Trust Fall
Book One of The Trust Trilogy
Tess Quince
Chapter Eight
I WAKE. I WAS IN a deep, relaxed sleep. It was a full sleep. It isn't the restless, worried sleep of a single mom with a little boy and a man-child ex-husband and a mortgage and a career and a portfolio of loans to monitor. It was the sleep you get laying on the beach with a head full of daiquiris. It was the sleep of a stoned college kid. It was the sleep of a child in the back of a car on the way home from grandma's house after a full day of fun and turkey. It was a sleep I haven't had since before Danny was born. I lay there quietly with my eyes closed inviting the sleep back. It doesn't come. I wonder how long I've been asleep. I open my eyes and the clock says only a half hour.
My shower is running. Ben Sheppard must be in it. I get up and go to the bathroom door. I think of asking him if he needs anything, but instead I crack open the door and peek in. He's behind the curtain. It's a translucent curtain. I bought it when Danny started saying he didn't always want his mommy with him in the bath. He wanted privacy. I wanted to make sure Danny didn't slip and fall. On those days when he didn't want me in the room for his bath time, I left the door open and the curtain let me see his little body moving safely behind it.
Now I see Ben Sheppard standing still letting the water cascade over his body. It's not a perfect body. Tall, yes. But he is forty-seven and doesn't appear to work out. He gets his workout from actually working. There's a bit of a tummy, but the muscles across his shoulders and down his arms are muscular and natural looking. It's a nice ass for a man his age.
I watch him slowly duck his head under the showerhead.
"You're free to watch," he says. Damn, I'm caught. "Or you could join me."
I smile.
"Sorry. I was just going to ask if you need anything."
"I'm good. So what will it be? You watching or coming in?"
I pull my dress over my head and let it fall to the floor and pull the curtain back and step into the shower behind him. He likes it hot. I put my arms around him and hold his chest while I lean my face against his wet back.
"That's nice," he says.
I don't say anything. I like feeling the slight ripple of his back muscles against my cheek and my fingers are playing with his chest hair.
"There is one problem," he says after a few minutes.
"Ummmm," is all I can manage to say.
"I didn't bring any soap. I'm going to have to use yours. I won't smell like Irish Spring but what you have here." I feel him pick up the bottle. He says, "Honey hibiscus lavender fusion"
I laugh quietly at the thought of it and he feels it in his back.
"You think that's funny?"
I pull my hands from his chest and take the bottle from him and pick up one of my loofahs. I squirt some of the soap on it and begin to wash his back. I'm a little rough with him, but he seems to be enjoying the scrub. I make sure I get him from his shoulders to his lower back then take his right arm and scrub it. I do his left. They both stretch out what seems like the length of my shower.
I turn him around and lather his chest. I like how the soap and his hair look all matted up. I reach up to do his neck and stop over his Adam's apple. I hold it and he swallows and I like how it moves across my palm. I palm some soap and run it over his face and stubble.
I sit on the side of the tub and begin washing his legs. I feel bad that I've not appreciated them before. They're strong and muscled. His flaccid cock is inches from my face, but I avoid looking right at it. I work his thighs then his calves and the backs of his legs.
Finally, I look at his cock directly. It's soft and obviously smaller than when he's inside me. It hangs slightly to the left. I've never spent time looking at a man's cock. Not even Josh's. I've fumbled with them in bed but that's mostly with the lights off. I've seen them when Josh and old boyfriends were getting dressed. Aesthetically, I don't find them the most attractive things. They flop around and seem ungainly. Almost silly. I didn't need to look closely, did I? I got the general idea. But I do take a close look at Ben's. He's circumcised and the mushroom shaped head seems disproportionately bulbous compared to his shaft. I get some more soap, lather it then surround his cock with my hands. I feel it grow slightly as I do so and sense a rise in its temperature. I lift it up and look at its underside. A long ridge runs from his head to the base. He's not as hairy as I expect. His chest is covered in hair, but not so much here. I softly lather his balls with my right hand. They seem large compared to other men's I've felt. Is that an age thing? I lift them in my palm and they feel heavy for their size. With my left hand, I pull down on his cock watching the soap bubble and clean him. He doesn't harden as I expect. He doesn't guide my mouth to his cock as I half fear and am half curious about. He's not going to do anything except let himself be washed. I put my hands on the cheeks of his behind and soap them up and force myself to run my soapy fingers down the cleft of his ass. It feels taboo and naughty, but if he thinks so, he doesn't show it. I run my fingers just a bit deeper then stand up.
He looks me in the eye and says "thank you." He turns and rinses himself off and I watch.
He looks down my body.
"You shaved since last time."
My skin is red from the hot water, but I feel myself blush.
"Yes, you like?"
"It's okay. It's your body. However, I like the women I'm with to look like women, not little girls."
I'm a little crest-fallen and he sees that.
"But when in Rome," he says. He picks up one of my razors and tries to hand it to me. "Go ahead, shave my pubic hair. We'll be matched set."
I break out laughing and he interrupts my laughing with the question, "Hungry?"
"Starving," I say.
"We've missed our reservation. I was told of another place, but we may have to wait. That okay?"
"Of course," I say. I'll wait with you anywhere, I think. "I'll let you finish up, okay?"
He nods his head and smiles and I step out and dry myself while he shampoos.
As I'm about to leave I take another look at him.
"Ben, I was wondering if you'd do me one more favor."
"Sure."
"Don't shave—down there or your face."
He pauses for a beat and I think I can hear his smile.
"No problem but any whisker burn is on you."
I close the door behind me and let him finish.
He offers to let me drive my car, but I demure. I like riding in his big, loud, imposing truck.
The front seat of the truck has a wide bench seat and there's a place right next to him in the middle to sit close, but I decide to sit by the passenger door. This truck was built for big men doing hard work to sit in three abreast so there's room enough for me to curl my legs up underneath me. I'm leaning against the door and have angled myself so that I'm looking at Ben. I like to watch him shift the gears and hear the engine rev up or slow down to his command. I like seeing his hand gripping the end of the gear shifter and the cable like muscles in his forearm rise and fall as he does all this.
He takes me to Terry's Turf Club. It's only a ten minute drive. I've never been there. It's got an over-the-top roadside atmosphere with neon lights glaring into the night inside and out. Hamburgers seem to be the feature. It's late so we're seated quickly which I hear is unheard of for this place.
