#Masturbation Monday – An orgasm a day…

I’m working on something new.  A story about a professional wine taster, Saffron and the new man in her life, Gideon, who works as a sommelier. They’ve just started dating, but Gideon has departed to Spain on business leaving Saffron with an instruction to help her deal with the separation – one orgasm every day he’s away.

I’m sharing part one on #MasturbationMonday, more will follow this week on Wednesday WipItUp.

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It came as an after thought, tucked up in bed. I stuck my fingers down my knickers, twizzled them about my clitoris and re-created the mental picture of Gideon sucking on my tits. It did the trick. I came, rather abruptly and not entirely satisfactorily. The usual sense of uneasiness quickly followed on the heels of the come down and I tried to dismiss the negativity.

I sent Gideon a text, not an email.

~ Job done.

I didn’t expect a reply that night, but it came swiftly.

~ Thank you, but I wasn’t aware it was a job.

I stuck my head under my pillow and smothered an annoyed cursed. “Stupid, stupid.”

~ I didn’t mean to imply that. ~ I texted. ~ It was enjoyable, but I’m tired.

~ What did you think about?

The man was an inquisitor, determined to prise open my tightly protected layer.

~ You ~ The truth at least.

~ Good. Tomorrow please have an orgasm while at work and send me a more detailed email.

Bloody hell! How would I manage that! I rolled onto my side, staring at the screen, wondering what to say in reply.

Be adventurous – that is what he’d said to me yesterday. I imagined my furtive little masturbation, perhaps under the desk, or in the toilet – no, not for me. Maybe, I should take the car and do the deed in the car park?

The more I plotted, the more excited I became and the so did my silly clit. I felt below, sliding my finger along the slit. Wet, not leaky wet, but slippery and oozy. Back and forth, I moved my hand. Opening my legs, I dragged down my knickers, wriggling them past my hips and rubbed my nub harder, letting it protrude – erect and sensitive. I whipped back the covers, exposing myself to the cool air of the bedroom. It heightened the sensitivity and I panted, my arm aching with the effort of championing my arousal. I turned over on to my belly and humped my fingers.

The second time I came, I moaned in delight, feeling the tension wash out of me, replacing it with a dozy, relaxed sensation. I reached out to the bedside table, found the tissue box and used one to wipe my hand before sending Gideon a text, answering his last request.

~ It will be my pleasure.

He replied with a simple smiley face. I fell asleep, warm and content with a scrunched up tissue in one hand and my mobile in the other.

 

I’d loads to do that week.

In between, amongst all the emails, phone calls and typing, I’d a small matter of an orgasm.

I put it off during the morning, too distracted. After lunch, I spend sometime in the tasting room. Walking down the corridor back to my office, I passed the small storeroom used to house the prize vintages, the best champagnes and other valuable items, such as the silver spittoons. I hesitated outside the door and fished the door key out of my pocket. Unlocking it, I peeked about before entering, then locked it again behind me, leaving the key hanging in the hole.

Two racks of shelves on one wall and the other a wine cabinet filled with the kind of bottles a connoisseur such as Duncan probably considered standard fare. Lucky man. How I wished I could have a wealthy hobby like his.

Why I chose to do it there, I didn’t know. It wasn’t a comfortable environment, slightly cold, windowless and air-conditioned. The draught from the ceiling vent hit the exposed skin of my neck. I stood with my back to the wall and leant against it.

My ears stayed tuned, waiting to hear if somebody tried the door and failed to enter. Nobody came – why would they? The room was rarely used and it acted as a strong room for whatever my boss Frank considered valuable.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and slipped my fingers under the waistband of my trousers, heading towards my knickers.

Ten minutes later, I locked the door and scurried back to my office, peculiarly warm and conscious of a dampness in my gusset.

How to compose an email, without referring to what I’d just done in a smutty way. I framed several version before opting to send the last.

~ I’ve attended to the matter you asked. I elected to achieve my mission in the strong room surrounded by our best offerings. It occurred following a brisk stroke of the surface and a gentle poke of the entrance. I hope you find this satisfactory.

I signed off with a kiss, but no name.

Minutes passed, the afternoon sun lowered, but remained hot and the blinds stayed down across the window. I imagined Gideon in the sweltering heat August heat of Navarra, the low terraces lined with vines and lush greenness. A man who I’d just started to know, who seemed intent on cultivating me into, what? What was his mission? His girl, he’d called me. It sounded old-fashioned and somewhat glib, as if he’d didn’t want to confer on me a romantic title.

Half an hour later, the waves of uncertainty bubbled up leaving me frustrated. Perhaps he’d simply not seen my message. He’d be busy. I should be busy, too. I fumbled with my mouse and brought up a report.

The email appeared as an icon in the corner of my screen. I clicked on it.

 ~ Sweet. Thank you. You didn’t mention whether you enjoyed it. I’m staring at blue skies, seated on a veranda, glass of rioja in my hand, thinking of you, the paleness of your breasts, the rose tint of your lips. The skies here match your eyes. I’m hiding my hardness under the table as I type this.

I smiled, but facial expression hid my disappointment. He’d written something that made me feel sexy and desired, however, I’d not exactly done the same for him.

~ I understand, I’m just not sure how to do it.

~ Empty your mind and be in the moment of nothingness.

Such an enigmatic statement from an inscrutable man. A man who for no apparent, logical reason, had ensnared me and instead of being repulsed by his technique, it drew me into his net tighter.

~ I feel like I’ve let you down.

~ Saffron. No!  You’re wonderful. It is me who needs to open up and when I can, I will. Please be patient. I’m not being demanding too much of you?

The heat of the room had gone up a notch, or so I thought. I roasted, sweating gently and I opened a window, hoping a cool breeze would calm and help me understand what was going on in my head. The blinds flapped against the glass and I heard the distant traffic of the busy roads.

I didn’t like mysteries, they had to be solved and explained. Gideon, ever since I’d first clapped eyes on him in Napa, had maintain the veneer of mystery and I confess, it intrigued me and still did. I had to hold back my natural curiosity and, as he eloquently put, empty my mind. Not easy for a woman who rammed various facts, fragrances and tastes into every fold her grey matter. I stared at the screen, reviewing his message.

~ No. I’m up to it. I like a challenge. I wish I was with you.

True, and scary. How far would I be prepared to go to explore my relationship with Gideon?

His reply came instantly. Another one of his frugal smiley faces.

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