caress of his voice over her skin.
What had he asked her? How should she act?
A long and awkward pause unfolded why she struggled to come up with a reaction.
She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled at Reza, who was standing over her and took her opened eyes as an invitation to sit on the edge of her lounge chair.
“I thought you weren't...here,” she said. She realized she was topless, and resisted an urge to cover herself.
Reza gave a glance back at the house, as though he read her scattered thoughts and plucked, from all of the things she was thinking, the thought about Zahra. Zahra her good friend, whose half-naked husband was sitting on the lounge chair, tan and sculpted.
“Zahra's going to be on a conference call with the bank for a bit,” he said casually.
Helena's pulse began to race even faster, so fast she felt dizzy. Her stomach twisted, her insides went cold and hot.
There was no denying, though she tried very hard, that she wasn't having the same immature thoughts about Reza that she had about many a boy when she was an adolescent. That in spite of the way it would violate her wedding vows, and her friendship, she liked to sit in the sun and fantasize about Reza running his eyes all over her again, and that he secretly was attracted to her, and then even more intense fantasies than that. She liked to think of all the places she could hide away with Reza and feel more than just his eyes on her.
But now? Now that he was right here? Staring at her? And she was topless? And Zahra was “on a conference call” just a short walk away, in her giant house full of windows?
Now she knew she should do something, like stand up and get in the pool. Or put on her top. Or something. Anything.
Instead her thoughts were empty, and the only thing in her mind was the acute awareness of Reza's thigh being pressed to her ankle. The heat of his body was stirring her up sexually, a sexual pleasure that was somehow radiating from her ankle, running along the inside of her thigh, and pooling between her legs.
She found her voice, remembering he had asked her a question.
“What?” she croaked. “is..is what true?”
She watched as Reza produced from seemingly thin air a bottle of sunscreen and poured some of it into his hands. Was this actually happening? She couldn't tear her eyes away from his big, strong hands rubbing the sunscreen together. His face had an expression of...what? Pure confidence? Desire? Satisfaction? Control It was hard to say, maybe all of these things were mixed into the face her wore as his lightly smiling lips said:
“That white people know all about sunscreen?” And then her motioned with one hand, and she knew that he wanted her to turn around, and let him put the sunscreen on her back.
What she couldn't believe is that she did precisely that.
Reza's hand was smooth and gentle, but an undercurrent of wild strength was below the surface of his touch, electrifying Helena's skin. She felt an involuntary spasm ripple through her. It traveled around to the front of her body and turned her nipples hard. But she was lost to the sensation of his hands on her back.
“It seems to me you haven't reapplied,” Reza said, but it sounded more as though he had something like, it seems to me I want to lie you down and fuck you.
Okay, she thought to herself. Okay. This is just a friendly application of sunscreen. After all, people need someone to apply sunscreen to their back. Friends do it, you can ask a kid to do it...so by itself this is not specifically sexual.
Of course it was not racing through her body in any kind of asexual way. She realized she was holding her breath.
His hands were moving in strong circles, ever-closer to her ribs, to places on her body that were not the sorts of places..well, the sorts of places a person couldn't reach herself with sunscreen.
As he rubbed the lotion into her neck, he stroked the lobe of her ear with his thumb, and her skin came alive with
What had he asked her? How should she act?
A long and awkward pause unfolded why she struggled to come up with a reaction.
She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled at Reza, who was standing over her and took her opened eyes as an invitation to sit on the edge of her lounge chair.
“I thought you weren't...here,” she said. She realized she was topless, and resisted an urge to cover herself.
Reza gave a glance back at the house, as though he read her scattered thoughts and plucked, from all of the things she was thinking, the thought about Zahra. Zahra her good friend, whose half-naked husband was sitting on the lounge chair, tan and sculpted.
“Zahra's going to be on a conference call with the bank for a bit,” he said casually.
Helena's pulse began to race even faster, so fast she felt dizzy. Her stomach twisted, her insides went cold and hot.
There was no denying, though she tried very hard, that she wasn't having the same immature thoughts about Reza that she had about many a boy when she was an adolescent. That in spite of the way it would violate her wedding vows, and her friendship, she liked to sit in the sun and fantasize about Reza running his eyes all over her again, and that he secretly was attracted to her, and then even more intense fantasies than that. She liked to think of all the places she could hide away with Reza and feel more than just his eyes on her.
But now? Now that he was right here? Staring at her? And she was topless? And Zahra was “on a conference call” just a short walk away, in her giant house full of windows?
Now she knew she should do something, like stand up and get in the pool. Or put on her top. Or something. Anything.
Instead her thoughts were empty, and the only thing in her mind was the acute awareness of Reza's thigh being pressed to her ankle. The heat of his body was stirring her up sexually, a sexual pleasure that was somehow radiating from her ankle, running along the inside of her thigh, and pooling between her legs.
She found her voice, remembering he had asked her a question.
“What?” she croaked. “is..is what true?”
She watched as Reza produced from seemingly thin air a bottle of sunscreen and poured some of it into his hands. Was this actually happening? She couldn't tear her eyes away from his big, strong hands rubbing the sunscreen together. His face had an expression of...what? Pure confidence? Desire? Satisfaction? Control It was hard to say, maybe all of these things were mixed into the face her wore as his lightly smiling lips said:
“That white people know all about sunscreen?” And then her motioned with one hand, and she knew that he wanted her to turn around, and let him put the sunscreen on her back.
What she couldn't believe is that she did precisely that.
Reza's hand was smooth and gentle, but an undercurrent of wild strength was below the surface of his touch, electrifying Helena's skin. She felt an involuntary spasm ripple through her. It traveled around to the front of her body and turned her nipples hard. But she was lost to the sensation of his hands on her back.
“It seems to me you haven't reapplied,” Reza said, but it sounded more as though he had something like, it seems to me I want to lie you down and fuck you.
Okay, she thought to herself. Okay. This is just a friendly application of sunscreen. After all, people need someone to apply sunscreen to their back. Friends do it, you can ask a kid to do it...so by itself this is not specifically sexual.
Of course it was not racing through her body in any kind of asexual way. She realized she was holding her breath.
His hands were moving in strong circles, ever-closer to her ribs, to places on her body that were not the sorts of places..well, the sorts of places a person couldn't reach herself with sunscreen.
As he rubbed the lotion into her neck, he stroked the lobe of her ear with his thumb, and her skin came alive with
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