The drive up to the cabin was shorter than you remembered. You and Eileen both spent time doing the normal cabin stuff - airing the place out, placing food in the fridge or the cabinets, putting up clothes. All routine things that seem different now. It's almost like you're living together.
The layout of the cabin is pretty simple. There's a great room right when you walk in, with this ancient wagon wheel suspended from a stout beam with lights strung around it. No TV, just a fireplace and couches. The great room is attaches to the dining area, with a homemade table and nice chairs, a kitchen counter and the stove, fridge, all the "regular" amenities. Bathroom off to the side of the kitchen.
There's a loft above the kitchen with a huge king-size bed, looks over to the great room and has a nice wide window looking into the forest, a view of a slice of the lake. Of course, there is a guest bedroom and the master bathroom downstairs, too. So here's decision one - do you sleep in the loft with the bathroom a whole floor away? Or take the small, cozier guest room right beside the master bathroom and the nice garden tub?
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Eileen slides onto the bed on her belly, climbing quickly ahead so you have room near her. She's looking out the window, waiting for you. The bed is crazy soft, the kind of soft a mattress gets after years of use without falling apart. It wasn't a cheap mattress when your mom and dad bought it a number of years ago.
"This is crazy weird, isn't it?" Eileen says in a hushed tone. "I don't want to freak you out, but it feels kinda like we're. I dunno, playing house."
I want to say she could never freak me out, then I remember my wig-flip over "Killing Me Softly" earlier, so I keep my mouth shut. I look at the last rays of sun glinting on the lake, then turn my head to look at Eileen. Just look.
We watch twilight turn to night and I ask, "Dinner? Lights? Night hike? Skinny dipping?"
She grabs a few sandwiches out of her bag, "PB and J or ham and Swiss?" She'll hand whatever you want, takes the other. She pulls out a plastic jug of Ocean Spray, grabs some mugs from the cabinet and pours some drinks.
You have a candlelight sandwich dinner together. Talk about anything in particular?
After the toast, she takes a drink, then says, "I think you're more interested in the B and the J." Then she snickers again, finishes the cup.
When your sandwich dinner ends, she says, "You still up for a night hike? Skinny dipping, too maybe?"
She thinks for a moment longer, frowns a bit, "It is kinda cold. Hmmmn... would I be a weeny if we just stayed in tonight, laid down on the fuzzy rug in front of the fire?" She wiggles her eyebrows in a mix of suggestive and Groucho Marx.
Deciding against, I toss out, "Does milady have any requests for particular activities upon the rug?"
After the dash upstairs and back, you come around the couch to find the fire crackling and Eileen's sitting up, her back against the bottom of the couch, facing the fire, the light dancing in her eyes. "This is pretty awesome, right?"
Finally, I roll over on my back, strip off the slightly bloody condom without thinking about it too much, and toss it in the trashcan (remember to empty the trashcan). "Can't wait for 'second off'. Well, I'll have to wait, but you know what I mean." I grab her hand.
She rolls onto her side on the towel, facing the fire. It's quite dark out, and quiet inside, except for the occasional crackle of the logs. She reaches for you, hoping you'll crawl up behind her.
"Don't fall asleep." She says this a bit more sharply. "And let me know when you're done waiting."
My arm is draped over her side, fingers splayed across her belly. The position is both intimate and protective. We're skin to skin. "You'll know."
The second kiss follows into a third. She rotates a bit to press her chest against yours, hand roaming up to your hair, tongue teasing you. She pulls back, eyes questioning,
"Second off?" she asks sweetly.
I have never felt more lucky. Also, I'm very interested in the answer.
"I've always wanted to do it in front of people, like, you know, a big stage play or a porn or something." She's practically giggling as she admits this, barely able to hold your gaze, "But then, well, aftermath. And of course, under age, and all that. But, could you like, make an audience or something?" Her eyes flash when she finally gets to the asking part of her rambling proposal.
I concentrate, fix the scene in my head before trying to bring it to Eileen's eyes. The stage of the Opera House, gold-trimmed, red velvet curtains swagged to the side of the proscenium. The house is full, each seat holding a tuxedoed man or evening-gowned woman, those truly visible from the stage unique, diminishing to the impression of a crowd in the distance. The elaborate gold-and-crystal chandelier is just dimming, and the crowd audibly settles in for the show. Apparently, we're being simulcast, as there are two boom mounted cameras at the stage, and the red "filming" lights of three more in the balconies are like jewels in the growing darkness.
Gradually, the stage lighting comes up, and a spotlight focuses on the center of the stage, the giant bed where Eileen and I are laying, gloriously nude, on soft red sheets that show off both her dark skin and my paleness. The crowd gasps.
That is the scene I'm setting. The action is up to Eileen.
Let's see how this goes!
Exhaustion: (Rolled: 5d6. Rolls: 3, 4, 5, 5, 5. Total: 22)
Madness: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 2. Total: 6)
Still and all, the stage is set and we've got a performance to give.
Assured that you are okay, she looks around at the audience. Her nostrils flare and she takes deep breaths, finally sighing out one with the single word, "Ohhhh." A smile splits her face, and Eileen looks down at you, lying there. You pull off a good act of being alert, but you've never felt this tired before, ever in your life.
Moments stretch, and then you miss seconds, maybe minutes of time. You never fall asleep, not exactly, but the use of your Madness, the power of this moment, the raw sexual urge in your lover, even the smell of her blood, it's a concoction that sends you to and from wakefulness and... something else.
Images of Eileen's hair as she trails kisses down your stomach. The feeling of her wet lips as she engulfs you. The slight scratch of her nails along the inside of your thighs. The feeling of her humming something with you inside her mouth.
Another flash and she's above you now, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Eileen reaches down between her legs to guide you into her, sitting back, looking at the crowd as they gasp and chatter nervously.
The rhythm, the power of her on top of you, pulling your hands to her hips, her breasts. She's calling your name, performing for the crowd, for you. She's panting, gasping, for all of you. She's never been this animated, in the few times you've been together, she's never wanted it this much.
How does it end for you, Benny? What's the last moment before the stage show ends?
As we pant and hold each other, the lights dim.
--END SCENE--