” Paul continued, sliding the sponge over my belly and around my navel. “Right leg,” he said. I lifted my right leg above the water. Paul started with my toes, worked around my calf, and pushed onward toward my thigh, paying close attention to the inner side. Twice the sponge’s edge grazed my pubic hair. I raised my hips upward encouraging his progress, but he carefully ignored my impatience. “Left leg,” he said. I did as he asked, and he repeated the same taunting pattern with my left leg. When he’d finished, he dipped the sponge into the water and sluiced it over my belly once again, only this time he moved in long strokes, from side-to-side, and with each swipe the sponge inched lower down my belly, dipping to the water and below, until the sponge was between my legs. He pressed its softness against my center, rubbing gently. “Oh, Paul. Oh, that feels good.” “Go with it, Em.” I rocked against the sponge as Paul pressed harder. My skin was on fire. Cooling water and inner furnace.. She didn't play at the club. She never took anyone back from the club. She had her partners when she needed them but on working days she just wanted to get home, shower and sink into her sumptuous king size bed and sleep. The throb of the engine in her new Ford Mustang made her impatient to get on her way, so she threw her kit in the boot, removed her jacket and she was hitting eighty down the slip road within minutes of leaving the car park. Hip hop tracks rallied out of the stereo and she rode her driver's seat like a true professional. After a swift gear change, she made a 90 degree turn onto the B road and she sped off into the darkness leaving the hum of the motorway behind her.One mile, two miles; she would be home around 4 am and had a good bottle of gin and ginger ale in to chill with before she would slip into a deep sleep, hopefully till at least 2 pm the following day. Looking in her rear view mirror she saw lights approaching her. It was unusual to see anyone on these.
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