This story builds to a climax chapter by chapter. You will enjoy it much more and it will make more sense if you read them in sequence and save Chapter 5 for last.
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Larissa thought hard about what Kiki had said, during the long drive back to the city. She decided that Kiki was right. So what if Turner was obsessed with her pussy and they had both made orally pleasuring it the center of their relationship. People lose their looks, men lose their erections, and some people lose their minds, but pussies are forever, she thought to herself. Hers wasn't going anywhere she wasn't.
Turner was going to be out of town all week at that big trial. His flight had already left, so when she reached the city she stopped at his house (she had a key by now) to pick up her very confused but very relieved cat. She was going to spend the week at her own apartment. It would give her time to think. She wouldn't stay at Turner's this week. That would be too confusing.
Before she left she went into the bedroom where they had spend so many ecstatic hours and looked again at the erotic black and white photographs on the wall. A pretty girl, who was then about Larissa's age now, was shown engaged in various sexual activities in most of them: masturbation (in six different positions using two different objects and her fingers), point-of-view penetration, from the rear, riding an unseen phallus, and a few head-and-chest views while in the throes of lusty orgasm. Larissa went over to the beside table and picked up the little pewter figurine, which if it was the same one could be seen in several of the pictures. The features on the face of the figurine were too small and rough in casting to make out but the hair and the breasts certainly resembled the young woman in the photo where she was orgasming. She was going to ask Turner about all this, too.
The next day she went to work and things were not very exciting. There were no new bond issues her firm was handling and just a few old loose ends to tie up at work. There was little to look forward too except to see her cat at the end of the day. The cat, usually so aloof and independent, seemed to crave attention now that it was back home. It spent the day trying to get into Larissa's lap and rubbing against her legs. Larissa assumed that it was the tuna salad she was eating in front of the television.
Larissa did not feel particularly horny that night but she missed falling asleep to that throbbing feeling in her snatch, the one that stayed with her after coming several times.
The next day was much the same, except that when she came home, there was a lovely bouquet of flowers waiting for Larissa! She didn't know the names of flowers very well but they looked like poppies, with broad light red petals, except that the centers of each flower were dark purple, almost black. They were arranged in a sort of oval and around them were pink roses, and on top a single white cala lily.
Poor Turner, thought Larissa. He just can't stop thinking of my pussy. She put the flowers in three vases, her clitoris flower in one and the labia flowers and the vagina flowers each in their own. The looked at them for a long time before she went to bed that night, thinking of him thinking of her and what he saw in that flower selection that reminded him of her and how she saw herself reflected in how he saw her. It made her want to masturbate.
And sure enough, the following day a messenger brought a beautiful pink orchid, with delicate ruffled petals, to her office. It was very pretty and all day she looked at it and knew he was thinking of her labia. That night she seriously thought about using a dildo on herself but she held off. I've got to snap out of this oro-genital fetish I have with Turner, she thought. I've got to get control back and decide whether I want this or whether I'm being exploited! She went to sleep frustrated, slept fitfully, and dreamed of being boned.
The following day, she received a bouquet of anthurium, the Hawaiian flower, with pink bracts surrounding a bright gold-yellow upright pistil that looked exceedingly erect. Mixed in were bright pink eremophilas, complicated and deep and looking very ready to receive an ejaculate. There were bright white specks of baby's breath all around. It was pretty clear what that flower arrangement meant. Larissa wet her panties looking at it and that night, another night of forced abstinence, she dreamed of it, strange dreams in which the bouquets came to life as all the parts of her pelvis, from the vulva through everything inside, her womb, the little knob of her cervix, her ovaries and tubes, and, of course, little eggs that began their journey every month, so far for naught, all made of flowers. It was now six days since she had had sex with Turner and it felt like six years. Before Turner, she could easily have gone six months between fucks, but for the last six months she had gotten used to regular, hot, almost daily sex.
She was crawling the walls, she was so horny.
On Friday, a bouquet of pink roses arrived -- the language of love in flowers! It was so sweet, Larissa thought, because the sequence of flowers told a story of the evolution of the bond between the two of them that only they could read and understand! Turner was due back that night but not until late --his team, on behalf of his client, and the plaintiff's lawyer were still talking about a settlement while the jury was out deliberating. If they quit for the weekend without a decision, he would come home and go back on Sunday night, but he wouldn't know this until Friday afternoon. So he and Larissa had decided that they would not see each other until the morning.
Larissa had another bad night and it took all her willpower not to masturbate. But she wanted to be strong and self-sufficient and not to give in to the whims of her sex drives until she had settled matters with Turner. If Kiki had been there, she might have told Larissa to do the exact opposite -- masturbate until she couldn't come any more, so she wouldn't be hungry for relief when she talked to Turner -- but she wasn't. "Most people, especially those who are smart, who believe in strength of character, and have strong wills," like Larissa, "overestimate their ability to suppress their most basic desires." At least, that's what the advice blog wrote a few years later when Larissa read it in on-line, but the insight came too late to help her that weekend.
Larissa came over to Turner's house early Saturday morning and the first thing Turner noticed was that she had not brought her cat back with her. That was ok with him: the cat always made such a fuss whenever it was brought over. She was also dressed more than he expected her to be, in a blouse and long skirt, and after greeting him with a kiss and a hug she sat down across from him in the living room without even taking her clothes off. That concerned him.
"Turner, we have to talk," she informed him.
His smile tightened. "Of course, Sweets. What is on your mind?"
