River Walk: Ten Kinky Collaborations (29 page)

“Do you have anyone that you would like us to call to let them know that you’re here?”

I open my eyes to answer her, “No, dear, there’s no one.”

Sympathy flashes in her eyes for only a moment. “Okay,” she pats my leg through the covers, “I’ll be back in a little while. Just press the button if you need anything. Rest, Ms. Simms.”

I am so tired and just that small bit of conversation has taken its toll. It’s the next day before I wake again.

“How are you feeling today, Ms. Simms,” Akiyo questions during her first round with me on this new day.

“It’s Libby, dear,” A sly grin spreads across my face, “and I woke up, so I’d say pretty good. Besides, whatever you’re dripping into me doesn’t hurt either.”

Akiyo chuckles, “I see you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

I wink at her, “How old are you, dear?”

“Twenty-five, Ms. Libby,” Akiyo answers.

“You are quite a beautiful lady, Akiyo,” and I truly mean that when I say it. The young woman is slight, delicate with porcelain skin. Her chocolate, almond shaped eyes are framed by long, thick lashes. Lush peach lips display perfect white teeth when she smiles. Her heart shaped face is framed by shining coffee brown bangs and fringe. The rest is pulled back into a perfectly groomed pony tail. Perhaps, it’s the fact that she is my caretaker at the moment, and giving me such glorious meds, but she looks so angelic.

“Thank you.”

My laugh is labored, followed by a cough. “You know, I wasn’t always this old gal that you see here. No, I was vibrant, even beautiful if I dare say so.” I stare at the blue veins protruding beneath the tissue thinness of the pale skin of my hands.

“I’m sure you were Ms. Libby,” Akiyo replies with a grin as she marks numbers on a board on the wall before coming back to listen to my chest with her stethoscope. “Deep breath in…again,” she continues the exam. “Since you’re unable to cough properly or to get up some of this fluid on your own, we’re going to have a respiratory therapist come in to administer some chest percussion and postural drainage angling.” Akiyo sees the uncertainty in my face. “Don’t worry. It’s just angling your body and a soft pounding with cupped hands that helps move the mucus up. Most patients really like the way it feels, almost like a massage. Plus, it will help alleviate some of the fluids in your lungs and make breathing a little easier.” She resumes her examination. She repositions my gown and covers me with blankets.

“Do you have a boyfriend, husband, Akiyo?”

She grins, “No I don’t.”

It occurs to me that maybe I should be more politically correct in my good natured prying, “Oh, girlfriend then?”

She gives the cutest giggle, “No, not one of those either. I’m very much single, Ms. Libby. This job keeps me busy, and I don’t get to socialize very much.”

“That’s a shame. You’re so young and pretty. You should be out enjoying yourself with a boyfriend, girlfriend, one of each even, not working yourself to death. There’s an expression: ‘youth is wasted on the young,’ don’t let that happen to you.”

She just smiles that angelic smile and shrugs before telling me that the therapist will be in soon and to buzz if I need anything.

CHAPTER 2

I spend much of my time sleeping in a medicated haze. The super antibiotics not helping with the ill feelings. In truth, I don’t seem to be feeling much better. I believe I have slept through a day or perhaps two the next time I recognize that Akiyo is in the room.

As she injects another medication into my IV, Akiyo enquires, “May I ask you something, Ms. Libby?”

“Of course, and Akiyo, please just call me Libby.”

“I happened to notice that you have a small tattoo on your hip, and…”

I interrupt her with a slight chuckle, “Oh that? That’s a long story.”

“Well, I’m always here,” she laughs, “and it seems we’re going to be spending some time together.”

“True,” I think back to that moment of being marked with the ink, “and it is a good story,” I arch one brow at Akiyo.

“I knew you were a feisty one, Libby. Go ahead and rest, and we’ll talk when I come back. Just buzz if you need anything.”

The cocktail Akiyo administered takes hold, and once again I drift off.

It seems my times of true lucidity are few and far between this first week. It’s much like being in a fog, my brain addled at times to what’s really taking place and remembering where I’m at, struggling for air most of the time. There are moments that I wonder if I will even wake up. I recall moments of people in and out of the room. Automatically responding to requests, being just awake enough to help move myself when they need to examine or tend to me. However, when Akiyo enters, I respond to her. There is something about her that I’m drawn to. It has been a long time since I’ve had a friend to share confidences with. Maybe it’s because I never had children of my own, or even nieces or nephews. Maybe it’s because there is something about her that reminds me of myself when I was young and innocent, but there is a certain impish gleam beneath. I cannot pinpoint what it is exactly, but I want to share things with her, memories, milestones.

“Akiyo, I told you that I’d share with you the story of my tattoo, didn’t I?”

“Only if you feel comfortable doing so. I didn’t mean to pry.” However, there is no mistaking the curiosity and the twinkle in her eyes when she asks, “Libby, may I ask you something, and I hope I’m not being too forward? I happened to look up the symbol on your hip. I’ve found it is the ‘Nŭ’ symbol, and I asked a relative if I had read the kanji correctly. Female slave?” Akiyo whispers the last part as she is checking my incision sites.

“Yes, that’s true,” I respond wearily, “only for me it does not so much mean literal slave. You see, Akiyo, I am a submissive.” Her warm eyes open wide as her head pops to the side to meet my gaze. “I would say
was
, but I still consider myself one, though I have no Dom per se…who would be, in effect, my Master.”

Akiyo straightens and blurts out in a high pitched whisper, “Like, you like to be tied up and whipped?!”

A wheezy hoot escapes me, “At times, yes.” I’m sure my grin and eyes brandish a devilish glow, “But there’s much more to it than that.”

“Why?...how?” the poor girl looks thunderstruck, yet clearly fascinated. I can see the thoughts written on her face. I instinctively know that she’s envisioning all of those new-fangled novels that are such the rage right now. Oh, this gem of a girl uplifts my spirits in such a refreshing way. It amuses me, and fosters an urge to explain further my tale, my journey to her.

“It was most definitely a slow evolution to my realization of who I actually was. Now as for how I got the tattoo, that’s a long story as I said, and I believe for me to explain the marking and its meaning that I should start where all stories should, the very beginning.

For this tale, that would be 1967. I was nineteen and enamored with what I guess you would call my first love. He was twenty years old, tall, and handsome. Paul Osborne was his name
.
I was so young, so naïve, and just open for experiences and adventures, curious, and he was just the man to teach me. I had a naturally bohemian spirit, and of course, the sixties were the perfect time to test that.” Shutting my lids, I am transported back in time. I can see myself again, long tan hair, highlighted from hours spent outside in the sun. The straight fringe falling just below my brows. Large expressive eyes, pert nose, perfectly shaped lips, constantly smiling.

“I remember that one day perfectly. He picked wild flowers and placed them in my hair as we lay on a blanket under a tree listening to the radio, kissing, petting. It all seems so innocent when I think back on it now. It was broad daylight, but we felt we were hidden enough from anyone who may wander through that part of the park. In a way, I don’t think we cared. We were too far gone by this point. His hand was beneath my yellow mini dress, much as he had done many times before, slipping beneath my undergarments, teasing me, which I enjoyed very much,” I sigh a moment remembering.

“Then, though, he did something that shocked me. Now, you have to understand, it was a different time then. I had only just discovered the excitement of having a tongue enter the lips on my face. So when he delved between my legs to kiss
those
lips, I loudly objected and tried to stop him. I thought the act was something vile, you see, but he protested that it was a joy to him as he would prove it would be a joy to me,” I wink at Akiyo, and she instantly flushes. “Once his lips touched those,” I give a tilt of my head indicating downward, “I understood that he was indeed right. I had never experienced any sensation like that before. Even though I was still apprehensive of the act, as he continued the kiss, I begged him not to stop. His wicked tongue didn’t either not until I was screaming with my first ever climax.”

I notice Akiyo has stopped her duties and is leaning against the window listening intently.

“You see, I didn’t know at the time, but he was priming me for what was to come, which was so much more. When he climbed back up my body, I spurred his attempts to then kiss me as I was unsure that I wanted to taste the residue of my own arousal. So do you know what he did then?”

Akiyo shakes her head, “No, what?” Her tone is one of pure inquisitiveness.

“He dipped his finger back down, and brought it up to my face, shining with myself upon it. He pressed that finger to my lips and told me to lick it, and I did. He then, slipped it further in and onto my tongue and simply whispered, ‘
Suck
.’ Let me tell you, it was such a taboo task to even think of, much less act upon. There was a gentle sternness to his command which made me want to obey. Actually performing the task he asked reawakened the stirrings below. It was…erotic. Then when his mouth took mine, with my own taste still upon his, all I knew was that I wanted to feel everything all, all over again.”

Akiyo has her tablet covering her face from her nose down.

“Would you like me to stop, dear? Have I offended you? I’m terribly sorry if,” but I am interrupted.

Akiyo cuts in, “No, no, Libby. I’m sorry. I…No, you haven’t offended me. Please continue,” the poor girl’s neck and portion of her chest that is visible above the scrub top is fire engine red.

“As I mentioned, we had spent much time in innocent play with each other. I had, however, never actually seen or touched Paul, nor anyone before him. I fumbled with his jeans, the hard ridge of his erection straining against his zipper. He helped me in my struggle, pushing his jeans down and footing them off to the ground, and I was held in fascination of the sight of his stiff, thick cock presented before me. Apprehensively, I held my hand just an inch away from it, stroking the air, almost afraid to really touch him. When my fingers made contact with his skin, the thing twitched. I was startled when seeing the beast had a life of its own. I knew at that second, that I would be a slave to this entity that was attached to men. I can honestly say, thinking back over the years of the many that I have since seen, that Paul was in fact well endowed.”

I curl both of my hands and place them one on top of the other, pausing to spread where my fingers on each hand touch apart slightly. I nod toward my imaginary clasped shaft indicating what I remembered to be its size in length and girth, then smile. “Yes, I studied his member for a while, the thought crossing my mind about its size and how that thing would actually fit inside of me. Paul allowed me to stroke and trace his shaft and head, my face inches away from this rock hard rod. I was mesmerized by the velvety softness of his skin there and the heat of the flesh. Being emboldened by his slight groan from my touches, I cupped his, um, package below, enthralled by how they rolled about inside the skin. Hesitant, I gently pulled at them, squeezing softly at the same time. Then I went back to his entrancing shaft. There were thick veins protruding from the base to the tip of his organ, and I swear that I stared so intensely that I could see them pulsating. Hypnotized by that, I used the tip of my tongue to try and trace the lines.” I shrug. “I didn’t get very far. Paul actually growled, and grabbed me beneath the arms, dragging me up his body, flipping me on my back so that I was pinned beneath him.”

When I close my eyes, I am right there again. “I did want more. Oh, yes, he sensed it too, what I was yearning for. He knew exactly what he was doing, perfectly. Once again, he took my mouth. As the kiss became more passionate, his hand traveled back down working me into a frenzy, in and out.

Lost in those unfamiliar, yet unexplainably magnificent feelings, he took me, right there on that blanket in a swift, plunging stroke.” I open my eyes, thinking back before I speak. “You know, I don’t actually recall the pain that took place, but I know it happened because I remember him becoming very still and gently kissing my lips, cheeks, chin, and forehead. Now, well now, I only recall the exquisite pleasure when he began to move, rocking his hips against mine.” I bring my hand to my lips recalling the feeling of his lips against mine, his body pressing into mine. My smile is broad, and little butterflies tingle my stomach at the memory. “You see I have heard horror stories from ladies about their first time and how painful it was causing them to shy away from so much and not enjoy sex. Not me, he was a very considerate lover who made my first time,” sigh, “unforgettable. I discovered that I enjoyed making love very much, and he was equally willing to help me start exploring more than I thought was possible in the ways of carnal pleasure. I was an eager student. I am forever thankful to him, for he was the beginning of me seeing past what we called ‘hang ups’ back then on sexual taboos. Even though, one may find it silly now, just those simple acts surrounding his taking my virginity, were major stepping stones to finding what I would eventually seek out and enjoy, so far beyond the oral pleasures.”

“Now, remember the part when I told you about Paul asking me to suck his finger? There was something in his tone, his command when he told me to take his finger. It was so erotic to me, being told to perform, especially an act that was so forbidden. A part of me simply melted when he did that, and there was a feeling of indescribable pride knowing that I had pleased him when his finger was in my mouth watching the smile spread across his face. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way. I just knew it sparked a desire inside of me for more, however, I did not know what exactly that ‘more’ was. We ended a few months later as most young loves and lusts often do. It was the height of the sexual revolution anyway, so needless to say, a
relationship
was not really on my mind at the time. I will tell you that I was instinctively attracted to very strong men, not necessarily in the physical sense, mind you.” I put a finger to my lips in thought for a moment. “It is very hard to describe what they emanated exactly. The men that I was drawn to had a certain commanding presence about them, as if they were always in control, in charge of situations, themselves, and others.”