Control Ch 04 3

Gene awoke slowly, rising languidly though the sea of dreams. The sun was in his eyes and there was a woman in his arms.

Annalie.

Instinctively he curled around her, his face nuzzling in her hair, and breathed deeply of the sleeping scent of Woman (her). His cock was hard and nestled between her the softness of her thighs, seeking the warmth and delightful sweetness he remembered.

Michele sighed and stirred gently. Gene moved with her, cupping her breast and pressing against her. Eyes still closed, he nudged further in and found the base of her neck, and he naturally closed his lips over it in a gentle good morning nip. She startled, and Gene instantly became fully alert.

Michele. Oh, right. Damn. Feels good.

The smell of sweet cedar and the sea drifted across Michele's senses. Traces of her dreams flitted in her mind and she sighed in pleasure, savouring the moment. She felt the warmth of soft sheets caressing her skin, and

Wha-?

a strong arm around her, caressing her breast.

She squirmed, and realized it was Gene. His cock was ready, heavy and alive between her legs.

I must be dreaming.

Still muzzy with sleep, she lay for another moment and then startled as Gene's teeth grazed her shoulder. She froze - not knowing what to do.

Did we?

"Good morning darlin'." Gene said softly, removing his hand from her breast and resting it on her hip. "Did you sleep well?" He couldn't resist a gentle thrust against her.

Michele jumped as if he'd shoved a hot poker at her, throwing off the covers and leaping out of the bed. Gene rolled on to his back, grinning as Michele stared at his cock as if she'd never seen one before. She couldn't help it.

"Don't take it personal, darlin'. I have the same problem every morning." Gene shrugged, giving her his #1 winning smile. Michele's brain was still filled with images of her dream and unconsciously her hand reached down to her pussy, probing between her lips to check -

Gene's eyes followed her hand, and he chuckled. "Nothing happened, darlin'. We slept."

Michele blazed in embarrassment as she realized what she was doing and jerked her hands away. Gene decided he'd teased her enough, however gently. "How about some coffee and a shower, and then I'll take you back to your car?"

Michele was furious. He was playing with her. She wasn't sure if she was angrier with him for being aroused in the first place, for telling her she had nothing to do with it, or for laughing at her.

Cocky bastard.

Even worse, she was angry with herself. After that that had happened, she was reacting to him. Strongly.

Last night he'd been very, kind, very nice, but he was probably no better than any of the rest of them.

Let's find out.

Michele forced a smile on her face. "Personal or not, how about I take care of that for you. It's the least I can do - "

Christ, don't tempt me, girl.

Michele stood there, lips pursed in a cute little pout, his shirt barely covering her. Her nipples were erect, her dark pink areoles visible through the thin material. Gene scrubbed his fingers through his hair vigorously as if to clear the image from his mind. "Right now I'd like some coffee."

And a blowjob, yup, that would be sweet, allright.

He shook his head hard. "Why don't you get a shower while I make some?"

What is wrong with him?

Michele screamed internally.

What's wrong with me?

Her shoulders slumped and she turned, walking slowly towards the bathroom.

Poor baby, you're not used to being turned down, are you?

Gene pulled on his pants and went to the kitchen. Not many would. He busied himself with the coffee, and soon heard splashing from the washroom.

She'd left the door open again. An invitation, or habit?

He wondered.

She was humming - he listened carefully - sounded like that old Who song, "Behind Blue Eyes". Presently the coffee began to perk.

Cream and sugar, and lots of it, I'll bet.

He checked the fridge.

Milk will have to do.

Michele was frustrated.

Damn him already - twice!

She's never run up against someone like Gene. He confused her. She wanted him. She hated him. She knew he wanted her, but he rejected her.

What sane man wouldn't want this?

She plumped her breasts in the mirror.

The problem was, he wasn't like the men she'd preyed on before. Michele sensed he was much smarter than they, and he wouldn't let her play with him like they did. He's blow her off in a minute.

What am I doing here? He doesn't want me.

Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes and she turned on the taps hard, hoping to stifle a sob. She started humming to comfort herself. Oh, he'd fuck her all right - didn't they all? But he'd turned her down, even with his cock standing at attention.

Fuck. I wish I knew what he wanted.

She tested the water, adjusting it until it almost steaming.

I wish I knew what I wanted.

Michele washed her face, brushed her teeth, and shrugged off the t-shirt. She stepped into the tub, closing the glass door behind her. The shower caddy was fully equipped, she noted. Fresh bar of soap, fresh wash cloth, navy blue again, shampoo, conditioner.

She laughed in spite of herself - a fresh razor!

Must have been a Boy Scout

. She smiled to think of Gene as a boy, a skinny little redhead with a mischievous smile.

But what a man he had grown into.

She started humming again. .

Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.

Gene heard the shower start; Michele's tune had changed.

Oh, that's pretty.

She sounded happier now. He then realized there were no towels.

Not good. Better grab her a couple.

He strode to the linen closet and searched through them for his biggest, fluffiest ones, selecting a pair of thick ivory bath sheets. He checked a moment at the doorway to the bathroom.

If she didn't want me in there she would have locked the door, never mind leaving the damn thing wide open.

Walking into the bathroom he stopped dead at the sight of Michele stretched hands over her head on the showerhead, back arched under the spray. He noted the steam rising from her.

Damn. She likes it hot. Very nice.

Gene quietly placed the towels on the vanity and went back into to the kitchen for his coffee. He was beginning to regret turning her down earlier. She had made it sound like trading sex for a place to crash, and that bothered him. It just wasn't good enough. Gene smiled ruefully. Sometimes having a conscience was hard, especially if the part of him that didn't was also hard.

He adjusted his cock, having grown uncomfortable in his jeans, and went back to the bathroom with his coffee, leaning in the doorway. If she were not here, he would have taken care of this problem in the shower, by himself.

Michele had turned under the shower, obviously enjoying the pounding spray. She was oblivious to his presence, head down and eyes shut. Gene was glad he'd just cleaned - even with the heat and steam, the glass was still clear. Streams of water flowed down her in thick rivulets, outlining and defining every curve, every ridge of smooth skin.

Sipping his coffee, he took the opportunity to get a long, slow look at her. Conscience or no, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to enjoy the show.

Michele squirted some shampoo into the palm of her hand and rubbed her hands together. She raised them to her head and scrubbed. Gene's free hand clenched slightly, wanting to clutch her breasts. Raised by her movements, they were plump and full as large, juicy oranges, tipped with nipples dyed the crimson of perfectly ripe strawberries from the heat of the water. Gene chuckled quietly at his thoughts.

Do you want to fuck her or eat her?

His cock jerked and he had to adjust himself again.

Well - both.

His tore his eyes away and dragged them down her torso.

Gene drank in her movements, watching her abdomen flex, smooth muscle overlaid with a touch of softness. He could just make out the suggestion of a dimple in the small of her back before his gaze slid appreciatively over her ass. It was high and firm, perfectly in proportion to her hourglass hips. Gene could clearly see the muscles moving under the plush curvature, leading down to long, strong legs. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined feeling them wrapped around his waist.

Michele finished rinsing her hair, picked up the soap and brought it to her nose.

Mmmmm, how lovely!

It wasn't Irish spring like on the vanity, but white and delicately curved. A ladies soap, lathering generously in her hands with soft, creamy suds. Michele took it and lathered up the washcloth. She soaped herself down, not feeling her usual ferocity when showering. Her strokes were slow, leisurely, the suds downy on her skin.

This is nice, being here.

Everything one could need, everything in its place. Comfortable.And Gene. He was so -

perfect

- gorgeous. She formed a picture of him in her mind. Broad furry chest, perfect for running fingers through. Large gentle hands. Tall, strong, and oh! Sparkling green eyes, full of laughter. A square jaw setting a warm smile, framed by a soft dark beard.

I'd like to run my fingers through that, too.

Michele wondered what it would be like, what he was like, what it meant to be his.

I bet he could make me come.

But then her thoughts turned to the ones who had made her who she was, the ones that had ruined her when she was so young.

If only she'd taken better care of me, watched out for me. Dammit, Mom!

Michele remembered the parade of men that ran through her mothers life as if they went through a revolving door. The tinkling, brittle laughter when her mother entertained them. The snores when she passed out. The moist breath and the furtive movements when they -

That's over now.

But was it? Wasn't she doing exactly the same thing?

No. Not anymore. I can't do this anymore.

But was it too late? Could Gene want her?

Love me?

The way he'd treated her was enough for her to hope. She started humming again, and thought of how it would feel if he kissed her.

You're so fucking special.I wish I was special.

Gene listened to her hum, rapt in the intimacy of Michele's movements. The tone had changed from the longing of Dorothy's daydream to something darker, sadder. Michele seemed to be caressing herself as she smoothed the sudsy cloth over her breasts and down over her stomach. Absentmindedly he registered the soft alto of her voice, crooning throatily in a minor key.

I've never had a singer before.

He took another sip of his coffee, realizing belatedly that he'd finished it off. He put the cup down on the vanity quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

Michele rinsed the cloth, re-lathered it and turned away from Gene. She lifted her foot up and rested it on the edge of the tub, bending over. Her bottom pressed against the glass and Gene's breath caught in his throat.

Yes. That's it darlin'.

She slowly and carefully washed one leg, then the other, and her red cheeks shifted enticingly against the glass.

Show me.

Michele straightened up and she seemed to dance, washing her thighs, passing the cloth from one hand to another. She stepped to the side and Gene could see the navy blue caress her pussy. She dropped the cloth, bringing her hands in front of her and then

Oh, Christ!

two suds-soaked hands came back around her hips and delicately but thoroughly probed the crack of her ass. This time Gene allowed himself to pull on his cock a moment, pressing it down. He closed his eyes, groaning inaudibly. Michele continued her song.

A squeal of skin against porcelain brought him back - Michele had turned to the shower again. She ran her hands over her face, smoothing them over her hair, lifting her breasts, twisting under the spray to rinse - she was almost finished. She stood still a moment, then placed the arm furthest away from Gene against the wall.

Michele lifted her chin to the spray her head and Gene imagined he could see the faintest suggestion of a smile dimpling her cheek. She spread her legs slightly, placing them carefully back just a little. Michele slid her free hand between her legs. Her triceps rippled for a moment. Her voice got throatier, deeper, and then her back arched into the spray and she froze, every muscle tight, highlighted in watershine. Gene held his breath. Michele shuddered, her song dissolved into quiet exclamation.

They both stood still for a moment, catching their breath. Gene grabbed a towel and unfolded it. Michele opened the shower door, the rush of steam billowed out with her and she stepped out right into Gene's arms. She let out a squeak of alarm.

"Gene! You startled me!"

Gene was glad for the steam that made both their cheeks flush. "It's all part of the service, Miss. Wash and wax and the best coffee in town for a quarter. " He brought the towel up over her head and squeezed the water out of her hair. Michele was laughing, fighting him, so he pulled the towel just apart to let her head through, pulling her face right next to his. "You got a quarter, Miss?"

He saw! Did he? Oh god, I should have shut the door!

Michele was glad for the heat of the shower and her little fright - hopefully it hid what she had just done.

I'm not going to say anything if he doesn't - and I can be just as sweet as him!

Playfully she made a show of peeking inside the towel. "Not on me, I'm sorry. Give me some credit?" She cocked her head and batted her eyelashes outrageously.

"On account then." Gene resumed his efforts, toweling Michele off briskly.

"On account of what?" asked Michele.

Gene reached around Michele and under the cheeks of her ass to dry them, putting his lips to her ear. "On account of your sweet cheeks, darling." His beard brushed Michele's jaw and his breath made the small hairs on the back of Michele's neck stand on end. She was mortified to feel the heat as her blush rushed over her - she thought she was beyond that. He swatted her ass playfully, but couldn't help cupping one cheek for a moment, giving it a little squeeze. "All done now. Go get dressed and we'll have that coffee." Michele grabbed the towel, squeezed past him and scurried to the bedroom.

Wasn't expecting that - not so hard after all.

Gene smiled to himself. He went back to the kitchen and poured himself another cup, fixing one for Michele as well. Michele reappeared, looking bashful. She tried smoothing her skirt and straightening her blouse, to no avail. Gene was touched at her attempts and smiled warmly at her.

Looks like I've lost that pair.

She was wearing his socks, and it pleased him irrationally. "Three and three, that about right?"

Michele took the cup gratefully, cupping it in both hands and inhaling deeply before she took a sip. "That's perfect. Thank you." Michele gestured to her feet. "I hope you don't mind about the socks." She ducked her head and raised her shoulder, embarrassed. It's just that - "

"Not at all, darlin' - they're yours." Gene was struck at the difference in Michele. Stripped of her bar-room bravado, she was a little shy, sweet even. The hard glitter had had gone from her eyes and he could see a softer shine.

Not as hard as she thinks she is.

There was a lot more to her than originally met the eye. Gene could see her thinking hard about something as she sipped her coffee.

"I can pay you for them - " Michele furrowed her brow. She wanted - to impress him, to make him like her.

Don't be stupid - he doesn't want you, never will.

She shook her head , trying to focus on her feelings, instead of her thoughts. It was unfamiliar, wanting to please, almost frightening. No one had ever affected her like Gene, and she didn't know how to react.

What can I do?

Then her expression cleared and she finished her coffee. "May I borrow a pencil and paper?"

OK, I'll bite.

"Sure thing darlin'. Why don't you come into my office?" Gene left the kitchen, waving at Michele to follow. As they went down the hall, Michele felt a shiver run through her. Gene opened the door and held it for her, making her brush past him to get in. "Have a seat - you'll find everything you'll need."

It was exactly like she had dreamed - the large oak desk, black leather chair and

No! It couldn't be!

Michele's knees shook. There was a photo album there, a brown one, sitting on the top left-hand corner of the desk. Images from last night's dream came flooding back and she sank into the chair gratefully.

OK, concentrate, you can do this.

She scrabbled in the desk drawer for a pencil and grabbed a piece of paper. Gene leaned on the back of the chair, looking over her shoulder, and she felt her cheeks burn.

This is not helping.

Michele started to draw, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as she put her mind to the task.

Gene was surprised. Within moments the form of a pool player appeared, a few more and it became clear that Michele was drawing a picture of him, perhaps how she had first seen him last night. She drew surely and efficiently, quickly outlining his form and posture. The pool table appeared as if by magic.

She's very good.

Gene watched her face as she drew and was amused to see her blushing again. She filled in the details of his face and Gene was impressed by how accurate she was. Other small details followed, a little shading here, a scribble there. Her ears were pink, and she was breathing heavily.

"Are you all right, darlin'? Too hot for you maybe?"

Michele waved at him for silence, but felt herself grow even hotter. She imagined she could feel his breath on her neck. I must be purple by now. She shaded in the background and sketched in a rough frame. She twisted in the chair, looking up at him with cheeks blazing.

"There - that ought to be worth a quarter and a pair of socks in a few years time." She handed Gene the drawing.

"That's worth a hell of a lot more than two bits, darlin' - you've very good. But you forgot to sign it." Gene handed the picture back to her. Michele took it and signed the bottom right-hand corner. He asked again. "You look kind of hot - can I get you a glass of water or something?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I just - " She looked down, wanting to tell him, but afraid. She screwed up her courage and threw her chin out, but looked in his eyes, warm, and inviting, a small smile playing about his lips. She softened her posture. "I - I dreamed about you last night." Michele was sure her head was about to explode.

A faraway look came into Gene's eyes for a moment, and then cleared, and he smiled down at Michele. He reached down to curl his fingers under her jaw, and Michele shivered and relaxed against the chair, closing her eyes.

"I know all about it darlin'. I dreamed too."

A heavy silence fell upon them, both lost in thought. Gene dropped his hand and reached over Michele, picking up the sketch and looking at it again. Again, he was struck by the detail and he was flattered by her effort. "Thank you very much, Michele. I will treasure this." He came around to the front of the desk and opened the photo album, carefully placing it inside the front cover. "I have some things I need to get done. Let's get you home, now."

He said my name.

She hadn't realized how much she'd wanted to hear him say it, thinking he'd forgotten. Hearing him say it mellowed her embarrassment to a warm glow all over. "I'll just get my things - oh." She looked down at her feet, not knowing what to say.

"I'll drive you home." said Gene. "You can pick up something to put on your feet and then I'll take you to your car."