Copyright Darkest Fancies 2004
This story may not be retransmitted in any form, in whole or in part, without the express written consent of the author.
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Chapter One: "The One" ~Shakira
"Oh yeah! Now that's the way to do it!" Rio's voice drifted through the empty house. Sitting back on her heels, she looked down and smiled with utter satisfaction. "Few things feel as good as this." Standing, she carefully lifted the bucket and mop and walked into the bathroom. The kitchen was clean and the floors spotless... for about an hour. By then, Jared would return home with the dogs, their children. Once The Boys returned, chaos would erupt once more. The dogs would scatter furry bits of what was once a teddy bear, knock over plants, and leave slobbery chew bones on the couch. Located on a quiet cul-de-sac in Hyde Park, an historic district in Tampa, the location was the only thing quiet about the house. Four Standard Poodles, which are much larger than many imagine, are a handful. They're rather high-strung dogs and never quiet, not even in their sleep. But for the next hour, the house was clean.
Rio put the mop and bucket in the laundry room, returned to the bathroom, cleaned the tub, and began filling it. Time to herself was sacrosanct and it was time to worship at the bubble bath altar. Rio's thoughts quickly travelled to their usual destination – her husband, Jared. Born in Surrey, England, Jared Elliott was a gifted child who became a gifted surgeon. Eighteen years ago, he came to the United States for medical school and at thirty-nine enjoys a level of professional success and happiness few achieve. Her thoughts drifted from his sharp, sexy intellect to his equally sexy body. Jared enjoyed golf and daily walks with the dogs were quite a workout. Jared was five feet nine inches with blond hair slowly streaking grey. His eyes were deep blue pools in which she would happily drown. Her mental images of him sent a pleasant shiver through her.
As the water filled the extra-deep tub, Rio closed the blackout blinds, turned down the lights, dropped cinnamon-vanilla bath beads into the rising water, and lit her favourite pumpkin pie scented candles. From the vanity and wall sconces, warm light gently filled the room. Languidly, Rio shed her clothes and took a long look in the mirror. At five feet seven inches, she bordered on being tall. Rio received her height from her father, a tall, broad-shouldered Swede. Her golden skin and deepest mahogany hair were gifts from her Spanish mother. However, the origin of Rio's mint green eyes remained a mystery. Going back over four hundred years, there are no green eyes on either side of the family. Her mother pronounced her eyes "God's touch of spring." Her father, in his typical scientific fashion, called her a genetic aberration. Either way, she was an odd duck. Her April Fool's Day birth date sealed that general opinion.
Rio slid her shirt over her head revealing a slim torso. Turning to the side and tossing her shirt into the hamper, Rio's eyes fell to her chest. Although slightly larger than average, her breasts remained firm with upturned nipples. Cupping the globes, her thumbs deliberately rubbed across her nipples, hardening them. A tiny smile creased one corner of her mouth. Her hands slid lower to her shorts. In actuality, they weren't shorts but a pair of Jared's boxers. They were a little too big, so she turned down the waistband, which caused them to ride impossibly low on her hips. With little preamble, the boxers slid from her hips and puddled around her feet. Rio kicked them towards the hamper. She pivoted, revealing front and back to the mirror's gaze. At twenty-nine, gravity had not yet taken hold and her rear remained perky and round. Fifteen years of daily yoga kept gravity at bay. Her hands trailed over her rear and around to the front. Her pubes were closely trimmed and only slightly waxed on the sides. She lifted her hands to her bound hair and released it, allowing the dark, heavy strands to fall to her waist. Laying the clip on the vanity, she again glanced at her reflection. "Not bad," she assured herself, and then long legs took her to the water's edge. She turned off the faucet and slowly climbed into the hot, oily water.
Eyes half-closed, her head resting on a bath pillow, the world melted away as the scented candles burned in their pools of wax. With the low lighting, the bathroom became a cathedral of peace. The stress of her workday and of physical labour flooded from her in a confession of humanity. The only sounds in her sanctuary were the flames greedily licking their wicks and her prolonged sigh of contentment. Legs smooth, her well-toned muscles rippled as she stretched. Steam tickled her nostrils, a relaxed smile played across her full lips, and the waterline lapped at her breasts. Fleshy nipples involuntarily reacted to the subtlety of motion under the wispy waves of satin bubbles. Her right hand lazily dipped beneath the surface of the tub's ocean and her fingers lightly brushed her upper thigh. The response in her body was immediate and no surprise; Rio welcomed the feeling of want.
Rio wanted to feel his hands glide across her skin, palms down, slowly. He would begin at her knees, his hand ever-circling, moving at a snail's pace only to end where her lust now throbbed. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to feel the physical weight of his body. Her legs parted, welcoming her questing fingers. Fingers splayed, Rio softly stroked her trimmed mound. Her hand stroked straight down and her legs parted further. Between two fingers, Rio rolled one peaked nipple sending sparks of need across her flesh. Concentrating only on her own pleasure, Rio's first and third fingers separated her outer lips. Her second finger slipped into her tight wetness and sank deeply into her throbbing cunt. Enjoying the feel of her inner flesh, Rio unhurriedly and repeatedly dipped her finger into the well. Each withdrawal sent silky cream into the oily water. Her long hair floated around her shoulders and Rio sighed as her hands continued their motions. Her clit throbbed, echoing her increased heart rate. Rio slid her hand towards the apex of her slit and caressed the hood of her throbbing clit. Moaning her husband's name, Rio's hand left her breast and joined the other hand between her legs. Her second finger never paused as her other hand more forcefully spread her rosy lips; the same rosy shade as those unable to contain her sighs. Unhurriedly, she brought herself to the brink of orgasm. Then, the dogs barked. She smiled, knowing her very proper English husband would enjoy some impromptu middle-of-the-day sex. That is, after he blushed profusely. Her hands relaxed slightly, but never stopped moving.
