Museum Piece (Starting with Dessert)

The thing about sex in bathtubs is that one mustn’t be in a rush. A frenzied fuck is better delivered against a wall, over a table, or in a bed. Splashing is for swimming pools but bathtub sex must, Stephen always insisted, start with a long delicious soak, interspersed with lazy bouts of fondling.

Lying in the cradle of heat and froth, I let the ball of my foot travel along the inside of his thigh. Opposite, in a pose that reminded me of the Death of Marat, Stephen lay back against the white porcelain, eyes closed, hair slicked back.  A thin sheen of sweat glinted over the planes of his face. It was not quite a handsome face, but it was beautiful: lined with decades of looking into bright horizons. A little too mobile to be pretty, his lips a little too wicked to be cherubic. They crooked upwards as I ran the sole of my foot up the shaft of his semi-erect cock.

“You don’t give me a moment’s rest, do you, kitten?” He said it without opening his eyes. The forward press of his hips sent islands of foam bobbing over the surface of the water.

I slipped a little lower, cradling his erection between both my feet. “You can rest when you’re dead.”

He groaned pleasurably. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not if you’re the death of me, first. There are worse ways to go.”

“Indeed there are. Come here,” he said, pulling one of my ankles up over his shoulder and plunging a hand between my submerged thighs.

* * *

Not all that keen to brave the chilly autumn evening, we decided to order room service. The food at the Langham is not exceptional, but it’s not bad either. We started with a warming lobster bisque, followed with venison in a hunter sauce. I was taking unladylike licks of the dark chocolate and Grand Marnier mousse that coated my spoon, when the doorbell to our suite chimed.

“Tell them we’re not finished yet, Stephen,” I whispered, giving the coated spoon another long slow suck and smiling playfully.  “We won’t be done for a long, long time.”

It was impossible to ignore the smirk of satisfaction he wore as he got up and pulled the belt of his bathrobe tight. “It’s not room service, kitten. I think our recently met friend has had a change of heart.”

“No!”

He went to answer the door without saying another word.

Lida looked a little overwhelmed as she entered the suite. She was dressed in the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier. Her hair, if it was possible, was even more windblown and wild around her face than it had been outside the museum. It gave her the air of something feral and yet vulnerable. I immediately imagined it spread and tangled against the snow-white landscape of a pillow. Reluctantly, I took the spoonful of chocolate out of my mouth, put it down on the saucer and stood up.

“Look who’s decided to come and see us, darling?”

“Yes, how wonderful you decided to change your mind, Lida,” I purred, giving each of her cheeks the lightest of pecks. She carried the scent of the rainy city on her skin, and the chill of the wind. “We’ve had our dinner, but we could order something up for you, if you’d like. What can we tempt you with?”

The large brown eyes darted around the room, taking in the towels strewn over chairs, the bedroom door open, the bed beyond it in disarray.

“I…I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I’ve already eaten. And…and I can see you are already…” she searched for the words.

As she did, I pulled her down to a seat at the small dining table after Stephen relieved her of her woolen coat.

“Oh, no! Lida. Don’t let it bother you for a moment. We’re very informal. Aren’t we Stephen?” I murmured looking up at him. “We like to be as comfortable as possible. Have you had dessert?”

I didn’t wait for her answer. Instead I scooped up heaped spoonful of chocolate mousse and whipped cream from my glass and offered it to her.

“Try this. It’s heavenly. Go on!”

Lida glanced from me to Stephen, who had reseated himself opposite us, and then back at me. She hesitated for just a moment, and then, with all the gorgeous eroticism of a budded rose opening, she parted her lips and allowed me to slide the spoon between them.

“Mmm…” I sighed, watching the divinely red, divinely plump mouth close around the utensil’s silver neck. I felt a tug as she pulled the sinful sweetness onto her tongue and swallow. The bowl of the spoon emerged gleaming and spotless.

“Nice?”

“It’s…it’s delicious.” Her voice was little more that a whisper.

“More?” It wasn’t a question. I’d already filled the spoon again, but this time I brought it to her mouth, standing beside her, forcing her lovely head to loll back and her slender throat to stretch as I fed her the next laden spoonful.

Her eyelids closed as she swallowed. I traced my fingertips over her cheek, grazing the skin of her neck, slipping warmly over her pale chest. Letting my mouth hover within inches of hers, the scent of chocolate and her skin mixing, filling my senses, I said: “I think Lida might be a very, very greedy girl, Stephen.”

“Do you think so, kitten?” He was also on his feet, stepping behind her.

Lida blinked, her glance flitting back and forth a little warily.

“Sh-h, little Lida,” I straddled her legs, and set to work unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it apart to reveal a bra that made the most of her petite breasts.