In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (19 page)

I
said crossly to the sex kitten voice,
‘I swear to god, if he turns out to be a crazy serial killer with no heart after the day I’ve had, I am declawing your ass!’

‘But this is the man you love, how can you worry he’s a
crazy serial killer!’
protested the sex kitten voice
.

‘
I’m more concerned about the “with no heart” part, you dumb kitty!’
I hissed back, rolling my eyes in frustration under the blindfold.

Luke
was speaking quietly and the cadence of the syllables rolling in the air was deeply rich in a way I’ve never noticed before. He really has a sexy-awesome voice. “Is it too cold down here to remove your jacket, Anabel?”

“No,
I guess not,” I murmured, my response the only sound in the quiet room besides the rubbing whisper of my thigh-high stockings when I shifted my weight restlessly from one high heel to the other.

I
was hyper-aware of the rustle of fabric when my tweed blazer was removed and landed somewhere behind me. Being sensory deprived of sight was already heightening my other senses, and I was breathing quicker in anticipation.

Over
my short plaid skirt, I felt hands on my hips and strong fingers spreading to knead gently. The hands slid forward across my lower belly to meet in a V formation, and then moved downward to rub over my mound of Venus. I had to remember the splinters, and not grind my butt like I want against his groin in a rhythm with the stroking hands.

I know mound of Venus probably sound
ed goofy as hell, but my brain’s jam packed with all sorts of new names for body parts. I’ve learned them from my bedtime erotica books that I switch over to read every night when the how-to’s get a little dry. I have some dirty slang favorites, such as Bruce Lee, but most I would hesitate to say out loud. The names strike me as quite strange and often ridiculous, but in the privacy of my own mind I have to use some of them. Either that or the top of my skull may blow off from the pressure.

‘Oh my, aren’t we the lucky ones
!’
The mean mommy voice snapped.

It doesn’t matter because soon enough
I have another desire tormenting me and my mind goes blank. The hands moved up over the contours of my body and lingered to cup my breasts through my blouse. Those large, wonderful hands squeezed and pressed without the careful consideration they showed my hips. Fingertips lightly circled my nipples and my head fell back on his chest.

My breasts
were always extremely responsive to Luke’s touch, but tonight it was driving me nuts when his hands teased me. His nails were lightly running across the hard points poking impudently through the teddy and the blouse. I had visions of tearing his clothes off and going crazy on him, doing sexual things I never knew existed until I started cramming on the subject this past week. I’m glad the blindfold covered my face because I’m afraid of how I was spiraling out of control and what expression Luke would see. My bet is a wild, depraved animal of the feline species. I was sure over-stimulation of the brain explained why I felt ready to climax again, and just from Torquemada playing with my breasts.

Luk
e’s voice was a low rumble, and despite the fabric covering my ear, still caused me to shiver. “I’m taking off your blouse.”

“
Oh please, yes!” I said feverishly and then snarled, “But if you don’t get these splinters out of me, I’m taking off your head with my bare paws...hands!”

My brain doesn’t want to have any sort of sex until I am splinter-free and have a hot shower. My body
was flipping off my brain with both hands. Luke chuckled and made a soothing noise deep in his throat, as if I said something funny. His hands were already busy on my blouse again, this time swiftly unbuttoning.

‘
Holy crap, sometimes I am a few shades beyond blonde!’

In all the commotion, I’d never asked Dickie what drug he’d injected me with tonight!
How could I have forgotten something so important? Is there a drug out there that affected women like Viagra, some pharmaceutical cocktail that knocked you out and then magically made you wetter than a Brazilian rain forest when you get touched by a man?

I groan
ed when my blouse was pulled off my arms and I felt the cool air on my sensitized nipples, the lace cups of the teddy providing no protection. I felt hands unzip my skirt. It was tugged down and Luke directed me in a soft murmur to lift my foot.

S
tanding there under my blindfold, I still kept a tight grip on my purse because where I go, it goes. Seconds ticked by slowly and I was starting to wonder what Luke was doing when I felt his lips on my shoulder.

“You’re beautiful.”

So that’s what he’d been doing!

O
nce more I was happy for my blindfold to hide my blush. It’s surprisingly hard to stand still, practically naked, and let yourself be looked at when it’s all about your body. Most women worry their ass is too big or too small, their legs too short or too fat, and their breasts are just plain wrong whatever their size. Without sight, I don’t have any idea where Luke was looking and if he likes what he sees, but then I laughed. I may not think I’m at my best, but I doubted Luke cared if my hair was flat or my lipstick’s worn off when he can look his fill at my fanny. It was liberating to be blindfolded and I threw myself into the spirit of things.

Letting my purse han
g from its strap on my shoulder, I rested both my hands on my hips. “Do you like the torn up teddy and bloody buttocks look?”

“
Very urban guerilla sexy,” the silken voice replied from behind me again, and I smiled wider under the privacy of my scarf when hearing a gruff note in Luke’s tone.

A
n arm came around me to nudge me forward. I held onto the warm hand guiding me along. I felt Luke’s presence off to my side and trusted he wouldn’t let me run into something or fall. Putting some sass in the ass, I strutted in my high-heels and black thigh-highs. I felt the curled up silk of the stretchy teddy bouncing against my lower back and the burn of Luke’s eyes.

Luke wanted to see me in nothing
much but stockings and heels, and I wanted to figure out where he’s taking me. Hopefully I’m providing enough distraction that Mr. Secretive forgets he hasn’t spun me around to disorient me, like you do when playing blind man’s bluff.

If you’re ever lost in a maze,
whether it’s dark or not, a neat trick is to keep a hand on an outside wall and never lift it. Eventually, you will hit the entrance. I was not sure of any tricks to orient in the dark when being led somewhere blindfolded, so I just used commonsense.

I knew we were facing the wall to the left of
the bottom of the stairs where the glass display case hung when Luke tied on the blindfold. This put the bank of monitors and computers to our right. My estimate was the Bat Cave’s dimensions were about twenty by forty feet, with forty being the width. We’d been in the middle of the room. As we began walking, I kept my steps natural and counted silently in my head.

After
thirteen of my steps, Luke stopped us. I heard amusement in his voice when he said, “…twelve…thirteen…fourteen!”

“You damn man,” I muttered from under the scarf.

My shoulders are grasped and I am turned in circles several times, losing all the spatial perspective I had other than being somewhere close to the left wall. Luke led me a few steps and spun me again. Now I’m blind, dizzy, and totally disoriented.

‘J
ust the way a man likes a woman,’
drawled the mean mommy voice and I stifled a giggle.

Mr. Tricky
put an arm around my waist and held my hand, as if we were dancing figure skaters, and started walking. Luke was not talking and I didn’t hear anything, except the muffled scraping of our feet on the carpet and my soft exhales against the scarf. My hair probably didn’t smell too good, but I was happy my breath still smelled faintly of cinnamon gum and ginger. This time, I counted twenty-five steps in my head automatically, since I had nothing better to do, before Luke stopped us to fiddle with something.

I heard a
thudding sound of a door closing behind us. We walked about fifteen more steps. The only thing I noticed was the air had gotten several degrees chillier and my erect nipples had grown stiffer, if that’s even anatomically possible. My breasts have been rubbing against Luke’s arms with every step and I was surprised I could still remember how to count.

Finally we stopped.

“I’m trying to decide if I should leave the blindfold on or off while I remove the splinters,” Luke’s voice mused, his hand around my waist starting to glide in a seductive motion up and down my side. His fingers touched along the side of my breast, but never quite reached around to my nipple.

“Just remove the
blasted splinters!” I moved restlessly under his ministrations, my damn body squirming to follow his fingers. I was so turned on that even the prospect of pain wasn’t fazing me for once.

“Off it is,” Luke laughed, and he untied the scarf and slid it off my face.

I blinked owlishly at the bright light, and then moved my head from side to side in astonishment.

We
were in a room outfitted as a mini-hospital. Everything was stainless steel and stark white. All four walls were built-in glass cabinets with shelves from top to bottom. Behind the glass doors of the cabinets, the shelves were packed with medical paraphernalia. It looked organized with military precision and every surface was spotlessly clean.

Luke ignored my dropped mouth, bus
ily pulling supplies out of drawers and cabinets, and placing them atop a tray table on wheels. Behind him was a very long table. It reminded me of an autopsy table in a morgue on one of those TV police dramas. It even had the deep sink at one end. He pushed a button and a big, domed light hanging overhead blazed on, the kind on a bending arm that can be moved to wherever you want more intense light focused.

“Hop up here and lay on your stomach,” he directed
, patting the stainless steel tabletop without looking my way. He went to the sink and began vigorously soaping up his hands, whistling a happy tune. He threw over his shoulder, “Oh, and doctor’s orders--lose the teddy, but you can leave on the stockings.”

When I didn’t move, Torquemada
glanced over. Seeing my narrowed eyes, his mouth crooked up sideways. “I believe I did mention that I’m better equipped than Anna to operate?”

I
closed my gaping mouth and boosted myself up on the table, ignoring his orders to lose the teddy. On all fours, I glared at the man currently looking below my waist with a lecherous grin while he’s snapping on white surgical gloves.

“
I don’t mind if you’re Dexter’s long lost twin or a sadistic prepper, but if you tell me you’re actually a doctor just go ahead and stick a scalpel in my eye and put me out of my misery!”

“Such violence, love
!” Luke mocked chidingly, in a perfect British accent that made me wonder how I ever confused his delicious voice with Dickie’s for even that one split second when I was abducted in my parking lot. “Now come, Anerbel, don’t be timid. Let’s get that teddy off. We may as well do your annual exam while you’re here in my office.”

“
The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room” by Flight of the Conchords

Friday 12/07/12

4:16
AM

Waking abruptly,
my heart’s racing. Taking a deep breath, I was reassured by the delicate fragrance of rose and jasmine oils on my skin from my recent favorite potion. Sighing in relief, I settled back into the soft pillows on Luke’s bed.

It
was the reoccurring nightmare I’ve had for the last couple of weeks that’s awakened me, but with a new twist tonight. Now the bad dream was a combo meal of horrible stenches--the Hammer falling on me and splattering his disgusting gore all over my face and the rotten potato sack smothering me. I was sure these bad dreams will disappear eventually, once stinking people stopped trying to kill me. In the meantime, I directed my mind towards my happy place to help me drift back asleep.

Reaching forward, I
moved slowly, so as to not disturb Luke. He was enveloping me from behind like he does when we sleep together--arms holding me close, a knee wedged between my thighs, his face buried in my hair, and both big hands cradling my breasts. He’s such a cuddler.

I know, just another trial in life I have to bear.
Come summer, if our day-to-day commitment was still going strong, our A/C bills were going to sky rocket because I can’t sleep when I’m too hot.

Luke
wasn’t a doctor, but he did a great job removing all the splinters. He assured me that my cheekies will have no lasting marks, other than his brand. He had training as a field medic in the Army. The way he painstakingly washed all the iodine from every crack and crevice below my waist had me saluting the flag, although my screaming out about “the rocket’s red glare and the bombs bursting in air” didn’t happen until after we showered together and he’d kissed my hurts to make them better.