Sunday Scaries

Author's note:

This is a very sensual story with an extremely gentle, female-led encounter. If you are turned off by stories with sensitive, vulnerable men, this is really not gonna be your thing.

This

is

for everyone who feels a kind of loneliness that can come only from our connected, modern world, and for everyone who has trouble turning off the thoughts they'd rather not have -- especially on a certain night of the week. I see you (:

Thank you to

thatsbogus

for reading over my work even at short notice. All characters are over 18.

~~~

Hayden stared nervously at the door. That was the way he did everything, but, especially tonight, the anxiety tumbling around inside him was louder than usual.

He never really understood why. There was nothing different about tomorrow. Nothing special to fear, nothing special to have to prepare himself for -- mentally or otherwise.

Maybe it was the quiet. Every other night of the week, he wished he had earplugs to help muffle the bass from the neighbors down the street, or the college kids living life to the loudest at the apartment complex across the way, or the trucks rumbling past on the highway outside his front door.

Now, it was deadly still.

Daytime was spent immersed in artificial voices -- the television, an online call with a friend, a Spotify playlist or an audiobook while doing chores.

But eventually, time seemed to slow, the activity would follow suit, and then...

Silence.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The noise gave him a start, even though he'd been expecting it. He wanted to smile, but there really wasn't anything to smile about. This was nothing to be proud of.

Uneasiness and relief washed over him in one, mixed-up wave when he swung open the door. That was how she always made him feel. At least when she first arrived.

Taylor wasn't her real name. He knew that. The warm grin that lit up her face every time he opened the door -- probably nothing was real about that either. Except maybe her glee at seeing such an easy mark yet again.

She was a little shorter than him and fit, although it wasn't obvious in her shirt and baggy pants. He always wanted her to come wearing something comfortable, something she would wear when she wasn't on the job -- when she was just

herself

. He had no idea if that's what she was really doing, or if she just knew what someone like him would expect to see.

Those were the kinds of thoughts, though, he was trying to expel.

"Hey," he said quietly, stepping aside to let her in. He caught a whiff of her lavender scent as she walked past him, toting the canvas bag she always brought with her.

He closed the door and turned to her so she could reach for him, like she always did -- a gentle hand on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, her cool fingers delicately stroking the stubble of his jaw.

They'd been through this so many times, maybe he shouldn't have felt embarrassed still about the way he so obviously craved that touch. But every time the warmth of her palm softly rested against his cheek, he couldn't help the shame of self-awareness from burning even hotter.

Hayden realized he must've closed his eyes, because when he opened them, she was closer, her deep blue eyes staring into his.

There was always a sadness behind the kindness in her eyes. He liked that about her. He couldn't relate to people who didn't have sadness in their eyes, couldn't

trust

them. The few people he interacted with during a given week -- an annoying coworker or two at the office, a pizza delivery person, maybe a cashier -- rarely got close enough or stayed still long enough for him to see what was in their eyes.

Like so much else, he wasn't sure if what he saw in Taylor's was really there, either -- the kindness

or

the sadness. But again, he was willing to believe in the façade, if that's what it was. For now, at least.

"Hey, Hayden," she said just as quietly as he had, the smile only getting warmer, more welcoming. It certainly

seemed

like the sigh behind her greeting was genuine relief. He hoped it was. He wanted her to be able to let her hair down here, to be herself in the same way he was during their rendezvous.

He smiled back sheepishly, feeling the blush where her fingertips slowly slid off his cheek.

"Looks nice," she said, glancing around casually. "You cleaned up a little bit, huh?"

"Err...yeah." He felt himself blush even deeper. "Guess it must've been a little cluttered if it's that noticeable, huh."

She snorted. "Eh, believe me. I've seen worse. In my own living room sometimes even." She made a little face that made his smile deepen, then gestured to the stairs. "Shall we?"

Hayden led the way and ducked into the bathroom to start the shower while Taylor put her stuff down in his bedroom across the hall. She never made a point of looking at it, but the cash was on the nightstand -- the best way to tip her if he really wanted to, she'd told him a while ago, when she hadn't known her way around his house like it was her weekend home.

Taylor let her dark blonde hair fall from the ponytail first while he unabashedly watched her strip. She did it slowly, removing her top to expose her perky handfuls of breasts. She knew what he liked, and his eyes were glued to her long, slender legs as she slipped out of her pants just as deliberately.

"Big day tomorrow?" she asked as she slid her panties down, revealing her perfectly smooth mound and the hint of the outline of her labia showing in the gap between her slim thighs.

He was halfway to naked himself, removing his own pants when she began to help him finish the job.

"Not really," he responded with a shrug as she tugged down his underwear.

They both walked naked to the shower without needing to exchange a word, the steady

shhhh

enveloping them behind the sliding glass door.

He loved the feeling in here, encased in a cocoon of white noise and heat that shut out the oppressive silence outside.

The hot water poured over both of them, and he made no bones of admiring her gleaming body.

"So what's the latest at work?" Taylor said casually, as if they were old friends. She dunked her head under the spray, letting her hair spill over her face before tossing it back.

He shrugged. "Not much."

She squirted some liquid soap onto her hands and started to gently rub through the hair on his chest, down his stomach.

"Come

onnn

, you have to have

something

going on," she said with a smirk as her hands roamed lower, down his thighs. She crouched her young, lithe body in front of him, the water pouring down his head and onto her.

Hayden didn't really have much to say. He was an uninteresting person, in an uninteresting job, living an uninteresting life. Doubly so to someone like her, he was sure.

"Umm, you remember Chuck?" he said.

She nodded as she stood back up and had him turn around, starting on his back as meticulously as she'd done his front.

"Yeahhh he's...the ice chewer!" She sounded gleeful that she'd remembered. "Right?"

"Uhh, yeah. He

is

actually." Hayden gave a little laugh.

"What? Why do you sound surprised?"

He shrugged again, zeroing in on every gentle press of her hands on his skin even as he spoke.

"I dunno, I guess I'm just always surprised you remember anything about me at all," he said, getting quieter as he went. He hadn't intended to sound so...

pathetic

.

"Why wouldn't I?" Taylor's voice was in his ear now, even quieter than his had been. He felt her hands wrap around him from behind and she kissed his neck in a way that felt dangerously affectionate.

Hayden didn't respond out loud, just sighed and let the subject drop. She knew him well enough by now to know the answer anyway.

Instead, her hands drifted along his torso aimlessly. She knew how much he enjoyed feeling any part of her against him. She'd probably pegged him as that type immediately -- probably knew exactly how to treat him. There was probably a whole script to it.

But he could only care so much.

The warm water was the only thing separating them, her smooth body pressed to him from behind, gently sliding in the mist as she kissed her way softly down his neck. He let himself relax, feeling some of the tension in him dissipate while she held him. Taylor must've been 20 years younger than him, maybe more. But it never seemed that way.

"So what about Chuck?" she said into his ear, her voice as soothing as her touch.

"Oh yeah. We're just working on a presentation for a client next month." He groaned. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to be in the office more than once a week. He

constantly

comes over just to chat about

nothing

and chew ice, I swear."

She laughed and one of her hands found its way between his legs. He was starting to relax enough that her fingers could entice some blood to flow there instead.

"Maybe he just likes hanging out with you," she said. "You're a good listener."

That was something she said to everyone. All the little details she'd sprinkled into their conversations were undoubtedly just as practiced, just as carefully designed to give him the experience he was looking for.

Taylor's fingers fondled his cock almost absent-mindedly while she held him at the back of the shower, letting the spray wash over both their faces. His eyes were closed while she touched him, concentrating on every sensation of the moment: her breasts pressed into him, her leg around his, the silky sway of her stomach against his back -- every inch of her was so smooth, her fingers so gentle, her grip around his torso so firm, so inviting.

All without any kind of hesitation that could indicate this was something she didn't want to do, didn't

enjoy

doing. And no sign she thought he should be embarrassed or ashamed that he felt such an overwhelming combination of cared for and turned on in her arms.

"How about you?" he said through a sigh that relaxed him even more, melting further into her embrace while she played with his gradually responding dick. It wasn't very big, not by anyone's standard, but certainly not by what hers must've been. Still, she'd never said anything about it, never seemed to take notice of it. Not where he could see or hear, anyway.

"Ehhh." Her tone changed, though her body language didn't. "My sister's coming next week to stay with me for a few days."

Hayden wasn't sure what he was supposed to take from that.

"Are you guys close?"

He felt her shake her head against his shoulder.

"Nooo, not at all. She's like 10 years older than me, has a few kids. Doesn't...

approve

of my life choices. Not really sure why she's coming. She said we 'don't see each other enough,' but...'" Taylor shrugged against him and he felt a sigh course through her. "Not really looking forward to it, honestly. Can't be good, whatever it is."

Hayden turned in her arms, blocking the water with his back. His cock responded to the direct contact with her slick thigh and pulsed at being trapped against her stomach. He ignored that and focused on her eyes, smiling encouragingly while her hands readjusted to pull him closer by the small of his back.

"Maybe you're just a good listener," he said, and she smiled wider at him, letting him take a nipple into his mouth.

Taylor exhaled deeply, almost contentedly, as he sucked, lightly swirling his tongue, and she let him continue for a little while before running her hand through his hair.

"Come on," she said gently. "Time to shampoo before it gets cold."

She reached for the shampoo, and he rested his head over her shoulder, his body pressing against her as she held him.

Taylor didn't say anything while her long fingers spread the shampoo through his hair. In the quiet

shhhh

of the shower, her touch, like always, was soft, methodical, caring.

Hunched down against her, he kept his eyes closed, his arms wrapped loosely around her smaller body. She had to reach back to work the shampoo into his scalp -- slowly, tenderly, letting him feel every movement of her fingertips. His favorite was when she would wipe through the mop of his hair with her palm, almost like she was petting a dog that had done something to please her somehow.

Hayden had long since stopped trying to figure out what he found so intimate about the shampoo routine in particular -- so calming and arousing at the same time. Frankly, it wasn't an answer he really wanted.

That didn't mean he'd stopped feeling ashamed and embarrassed about it, though. What kind of man got off on this kind of thing? How pathetic would someone have to be to

pay

for it?

Luckily, he'd never done anything with his life that would've made it worth it for Taylor to tell anyone the kinds of pathetic things he asked her to do. The only people who could judge him were in the shower. And he'd judge plenty.

Later.

Taylor always slowly moved, slowly

swayed

their bodies back and forth -- as if to the rhythm of a song he couldn't hear. Sometimes he thought maybe he could make out some humming, just under the steady spray.

"You like this, don't you," she said, so gently her voice was like a song itself. It seemed...mesmerizing, not judgmental.

Never

judgmental. Not even as his cock rose against her thigh with every rake of her fingers through his hair.

One of her hands wrapped around his waist, the other still leisurely running across his dark brown thickets, the shampoo long since washed out.

"It's okay," she said. She kissed his head as softly as she was speaking -- a long, quiet kiss that left her lips lingering on his wet hair. He felt his erection twitch even harder. "I do too, honestly."

She slowly slid her stomach against his trapped, swollen cock. "Really," she whispered with another kiss of his head nestled into the crook of her shoulder -- like he was a scared child instead of a pitiful excuse for a middle-aged man. She could probably sense he didn't believe her.

Still, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her neck, pressing himself against her and increasing the pressure on his cock between them. With every soothing touch of her fingers and body, he got harder and harder.

"I like the way I make you feel." It almost seemed like she wasn't even speaking to

him

anymore. Maybe just explaining something out loud. "You like to feel...

connected

, don't you." Again, it didn't seem like a question.

He clutched her tighter as she lightly ground against him at a quicker pace.

When she spoke again, it was even more quietly, barely above a whisper, directly into his ear. And this time, there was no mistaking whom she was talking to. "You just get kinda lonely here, not going out much, working at home. Hmm?"

She pet his head again and he had to shuffle his lower half away from her to make room for his erection, letting it pop free and poke at her stomach.

"You just want to feel someone else. To be seen. To confirm you

exist

."

Hayden gasped at her hand touching his stiff cock, her fingers gently playing with the head. He clasped at her back and she helped steady him with her other hand on his neck while his face dug into her chest.

"Shh," she said softly, stroking him steadily.

Everything

about her was soft and steady. "Cum for me Hayden." Her fingertips tickled at his neck, an affectionate graze that pushed him over the edge.

He groaned and bucked into her hand, pressing against the softness of her slim thigh.

"Yeah, let it out. Shh. Let it out Hayden," she whispered into his ear while he pulsed against her skin, grunting into her shoulder.

Her dexterous fingers kept moving along his cock, milking the last of him onto her thigh, drizzling down her leg. She kissed the side of his neck as long and tenderly as she had his hair.

"I like that," she said in that mesmerizing voice. "

Every time

I like it, how I can feel every muscle in you relaxing with me."

There might've been a tear on his cheek, or it might've been water.

"You have to say that," he said weakly, barely vibrating her collarbone. He felt her fingers caressing his neck.

"No I don't," she said after a beat, maybe offended, but it was hard to tell through the gentleness of her voice. "You know I don't. I don't lie to you, Hayden."

He wasn't sure how long they stood there while he recovered, her arms around him, her hands slowly moving over his body, letting him feel that she was still there -- still holding him in her silent sway.

Eventually the water turned cold and they got out. With the shower off, an even starker quiet than before greeted them -- seeming to close in around them, filling the space and then some.

Taylor dried him off, taking her time with the soft towel on his skin, and she let him return the favor. His work was just as methodical.

"I never could've been with a woman like you when I was your age," he muttered while he knelt, his hands and gaze lingering while he dried her long, shimmering legs.

"Not with that attitude," she responded with a smirk.

He felt his face fall in agreement. "Yeah." It was hard to have any other attitude. "Sorry...sorry I'm such a downer. I'm not like this

all

the time, I swear," he said, forcing a chuckle, trying to lighten things. It was true, he didn't spend every moment of every day trapped in his own thoughts. Just...certain nights.

When he finished, she stopped him from turning away, stepping one of those long, limber legs between his. Taylor cupped his cheek again, her fingers gently massaging his stubble.

"Hayden," she said in a low, earnest voice, barely louder than the air conditioner that kicked on. She leaned in closer, an inch from his face, maybe just to make sure he couldn't look away. "You're not a downer. Not to me."

For a frightful second, her lips were so close to his that he let himself think she might kiss him. His brain fought the ridiculous notion as the second of still silence stretched into two, then three of her deep blue eyes boring into his -- more kind than sad.

She was just good at her job. Very good. That was all.

Finally, she let the moment end, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a slight smile.

In the bedroom, she lay back on top of the covers, both of them still naked. Hayden couldn't help but take another moment to drink in her body, her legs spread to reveal the glistening, warm pussy beckoning to him.

The first few times, she'd been very hesitant to let him eat her out. But he'd convinced her that it was his time to do with what he pleased -- and what pleased him was pleasing

her

. Taylor knew him well enough now to understand that wasn't anything close to a lie.

He moaned at her taste, the warmth of her thigh on his cheek. Her fingers gently encouraged him, running through his hair again, helping him find the perfect spot for his tongue.

His own fingers rubbed soft circles above her clit while he licked at her, getting reacquainted with her taste.

It wasn't something he'd had a lot of experience doing, certainly not since he was her age -- or maybe younger. There just weren't a lot of opportunities for a single man his age...especially one who rarely left the safe, confining routines of his living room, the office, and occasionally the grocery store -- to pick up an online order, of course.

But she'd been patient, helping him learn her body: the way he could feel her relax as he fell into just the right pace with his fingers, just the right rhythm with his tongue teasing her clit -- he liked to believe that wasn't something even

she

could fake.

He could sense every sinew in her tightening as he gently sucked on the throbbing knob of her clit, and the heavy breath that escaped her excited him in a way receiving his own pleasure never could. There was something about making someone

else

feel...

something

...that filled a spot inside him he hadn't known was empty before.