Another quick piece of smut for your pleasure. I hope you enjoy it.
Thank you to arienette for the inspiration of this piece.
Please vote and comment when you're done. A clear idea of my efforts help me write better.
"Oh damn," I think as I enter our apartment. I can tell something's wrong from the soft sounds coming from the living room. Going there, I find what I expect.
My lady is sitting on the couch, curled up and wrapped around a pillow. She's got that serious look on her face, mouth set with anger and the glitter of tears in her eyes. I feel that tug in my chest that happens when I know she's hurting. Luckily, I know what to do.
I walk over to where she's seated and place myself on the floor in front of her. My hands go out, gently place themselves on a foot and start to rub.
Her mouth makes a little motion, trying to move into a smile. The scowl returns and two tears run free.
"Bad day today?" I ask, continuing my work. There's a slight relaxation of her shoulders as she responds to my soothing massage. She nods her head very slightly.
"Want to talk about it?" My hands take her other foot, pull it away from her a little. She doesn't draw it back. A good sign. Her head shakes a negative though and her arms grip the pillow more tightly.
"OK," I respond. My hands never cease calming her. After a minute her hold on the pillow loosens. So does her tongue.
"That bitch Cathy called today."
Inwardly I roll my eyes. Cathy is a person who thinks she's my lady's friend. In actuality, she's just a nasty cunt who bullies the woman I care for. I've been nudging the person who's feet I'm working on to stand up to her. My lady is too good hearted sometimes.
"And?" I prompt her.
My lovely woman pulls in a huge sigh. "The usual. How great her life is as 'personal assistant' to that bigwig. How she just got back from London with him. How much money she makes. How great her apartment is. How great her life is. Unlike
some
people." Her lower lip starts to tremble.
"Did Cathy tell you about the rest of her life?" is my inquiry. My sweetie's face grows a little perplexed.
"Here it is, Friday night, and you know she's working. Partly because her boss is a workaholic and partly because she's got nowhere else to go.
"Tomorrow, unlike most people, she'll be at work again.
"Sunday, she'll be at home, sitting on her couch, eating ice cream and watching movies."
My hands pull her leg out a little more. Stroking softly, I caress her calf through her jeans. She draws a quiet breath.
"That's her whole life," I go on.
"Now look at your life. On Friday night, you're home and someone who cares for you is giving you a a soothing rubdown. Tomorrow is your day. You can work, live, or relax, entirely at your decision. Your life belongs to you."
I start working both calves now. My lady spreads her legs a bit, giving me easy access to them. Her grip on the pillow slackens yet again. The dark look on her face lightens, but the scowl remains.
My hands move upwards, playing over her inner thighs now. She narrows her eyes, pulls in a deep breath. When her brown irises become visible again, her face shows a mixed expression. The shine is now more excitement than sorrow. Her lips curl at the ends, a smile tugging them upwards. She does want to hold on to her bad mood, but I'm making it very hard.