Unwrapped (6 page)

Just then, Dawn’s kneading fingertips stretched farther, onto the tops of Emily’s sensitized breasts. She felt the touch everywhere.

And her voice went softer. “I’m going to.”

“That’s so good, honey,” Dawn said, her tone sweet, comforting. “Now…no more talking. Just feel. Just imagine my hands are
Simon
’
s
hands. Just imagine you’re alone with him, and afraid of nothing, letting your body do what it wants.”

When Dawn’s hands slipped down over both her breasts, Emily thought to protest, but she didn’t. She was supposed to just feel. To teach herself it was okay. No more talking, Dawn had said.
Just feel
.
Just feel
. If she wanted to save her relationship with Simon…she had to just feel.

She clenched her teeth as pleasure spread through her chest and outward, downward. She tried to keep her breathing even, tried not to sigh with how good it felt.

This is Dawn
,
your friend
,
a
woman,
touching you sexually
! The thought rushed through her brain, but she held it at bay.
She
’
s a sex therapist
.
She
’
s helping you
.
Be quiet
.
Just feel
.

“Think of Simon,” Dawn whispered, her voice barely audible. Emily’s eyes remained shut, but she sensed Dawn moving around to the side of the chaise. Once there, she resumed gently kneading Emily’s breasts, her soft touch drifting down to caress her stomach, too. “Think of pleasing your man. The hands on you right now are his. Think of his cock, Emily. Think of it big and hard, just for you. Think of taking it in your mouth, wanting it there, letting it fill you. Hear his moans when you slide your 39

Lacey Alexander

lips up and down, feel his fingers in your hair.” At this, one hand left Emily’s breast and threaded back through the hair at her temple, making her sigh.

“You want to please him so much, and you want to let him pleasure you, too. Think of him parting your legs with his hands.” Dawn did that then, gently parted Emily’s legs. “Think of him licking your pussy.” She ran one finger smoothly up the center seam of Emily’s jeans between her thighs. “Think of his mouth on you, giving you such raw pleasure.” Dawn began to rub then, rub Emily’s mound through the jeans. “Think of him licking and sucking your clit deep into his mouth…until you come for him, so hard.”

When Emily felt the urge to lift against Dawn’s touch, she didn’t fight it. For once in her life, she didn’t fight something that felt wild, crazy, a true act of hedonism. She wasn’t into girls. She only knew it felt good. Like electricity zipping through her. She had to go with it, let it happen. Quit analyzing.

She followed Dawn’s instructions—she thought of Simon. For the first time, the idea of his face between her legs didn’t feel dirty or strange or wrong. She parted them wider, imagining his mouth on her, taking in as much of her pink flesh as he could. She thrust gently, her body swallowing the rhythmic pleasure—getting lost in it, not thinking, only feeling.

So good
.
So good
. Oh, how she wanted Simon. She wanted to throw herself on him.

Suck his cock. Then ride it. She wanted to touch her breasts for him—and so she let her hands glide upward, onto them, to gently squeeze. Her own nipples pushed through her bra and top into her palms. She thrust her pussy harder. She licked her upper lip.

She held her breasts tighter. She didn’t think, just felt, just moved, just reached—and then she came. It broke over her in startling waves of heat and light that devoured every other thought or sensation but all-encompassing pleasure. It moved through her like wildfire and nothing else existed. There was no shame, no guilt, no thought—only orgasm.

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Unwrapped

When finally it faded, she waited—for the guilt. Surely it would wash over her now, hard and heavy. After all—my God!—she’d just fooled around with a woman.

Only, the guilt didn’t come. Dawn had somehow made all this seem perfectly normal, and simply therapeutic.

She opened her eyes and met Dawn’s gaze. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Dawn only smiled. “I can. And my prognosis for you is that you’re going to be just fine. So long as you let yourself.”

When Emily left Dawn’s condo a little while later, she felt a new kick in her step as she made her way to her car parked along the curb in front. Maybe after today she could do this. Maybe she could be what Simon
needed
her to be, what
she
needed her to be. She’d have to practice, have to teach herself, like Dawn said—she’d have to truly let go of the unhealthy sexual ideas her parents had ground into her and accept herself as the sexual being she was. But maybe she could do it. Hell, maybe she could even do it by Christmas if she worked really hard.

She glanced up at Dawn’s front window with a smile, thinking,
Thank you
. And as she got in the car and pulled away, heading home, she had a feeling she knew what to get Simon for Christmas now.

Her, unwrapped.

41

Lacey Alexander

December 18

Simon wandered out of a jewelry store into the madness of the mall, where he’d been shopping for a gift for Emily without success. Harried shoppers rushed to and fro all around him and Gene Autry sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” overhead through hidden speakers. He usually
liked
Christmas. This year, though, not so much.

It was Emily. She’d seemed happy enough the last week or so, busy wrapping gifts and baking cookies and reminding him to wear the reindeer tie his mother had bought him last year—which he kept purposefully forgetting, since he liked the song okay, but just didn’t think reindeer made a good fashion statement.

For her, it seemed as if that night at his office party had never happened. He only wished he could feel the same way. But he remained torn. He loved her, yet he just couldn’t seem to move past their problems this time. And he knew it wasn’t her fault—

he knew this was all about the way her parents had raised her in a little farming community a few hours north of the city—but he also had grave doubts about whether they could truly be happy in the long-term when they felt so differently about something as big as sex.

Ahead, he spotted the big Santa display in the middle of the mall. Santa Claus sat in a large throne-like chair on a platform with mechanical reindeer scattered about and enormous round peppermint candies suspended on long cords from the ceiling far above. The little girl perched on Santa’s lap cried while her mother made silly faces at her from behind the photographer.

Despite himself, the sight reminded Simon of the dream he’d had last night.

Like so many dreams, it was somewhat nonsensical—but he’d definitely liked it.

He’d been dressed up, playing a department store Santa himself. He’d never done that or had any urge to, but in the dream, it seemed normal. He sat atop a throne similar 42

Unwrapped

to the one before him now, but he’d been surrounded by a cottony, glittery winter wonderland scene—which he thought he should tell the mall personnel about, since he’d found it much more appealing than the plastic reindeer and oversize candy.

Other major differences between his dream and this reality: There had been no crowd in the dream, no one else around but the girl perched in his lap. And that girl hadn’t been a child. She’d been Emily, wearing a red, see-through baby doll nightie and carrying a matching lollipop. She’d squirmed flirtatiously in his lap, sucking provocatively on the candy.

“Are you naughty or nice, little girl?” he’d asked in a deep Santa voice.

“Oh, definitely naughty,” she’d assured him in a sexy tone he’d never had the pleasure of hearing Emily use.

And then the damn alarm had gone off, and he’d awakened to find one of Em’s legs looped over his, which was both comforting and…frustrating. Given the dream. And the fact that he didn’t have the luxury of rolling over and initiating some nice morning sex with her as he would have with most women.

She’d smiled at him, having no idea of his thoughts, or that his dick was hard.

Happy as a clam these past days, his Em, and he had no idea why. The holiday spirit, maybe? He knew she was looking forward to the big dinner she hosted every Christmas Eve at one of the large local shelters—since Christmas was an especially tough time for the homeless, she liked knowing they had somewhere welcoming to go on that particular night.
And
it gave her an opportunity to convince newcomers to
stay
at the shelter, where maybe her agency could help them get back on their feet.

He’d gone with her to the dinner the past two years and would this year, too. He loved watching her do her job—she was no less than amazing with the people who wandered into the shelter looking emotionally battered, lost, afraid. Each time he saw her at work it made him fall in love with her a little more.

Although maybe he shouldn’t go this year, now that he thought about it. Loving her more would hardly help this situation, which, for him, was growing dire.

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Lacey Alexander

“Morning, honey,” she’d said.

“Morning, Em.” He’d glanced over at her. She was the sort of woman who looked good first thing upon waking, sans makeup, hair tousled.

“I’ll be late tonight. Cookie exchange at Lisa’s after work.” A neighbor friend.

He’d nodded against his pillow. “Maybe I’ll do some shopping then.”

But so far, he’d managed to buy nothing for her—no gift he could find seemed

“right” for right now.

Maybe, he thought then, the idea just striking him as he walked past Victoria’s Secret, he should seek out a baby doll nightie like the one in his dream. She’d look gorgeous in something like that.

But then he’d have to beg her to even wear it, and it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

With a sigh—and empty hands—he gave up and headed outside, where it was just beginning to snow.

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December 24

“I’m going to take a quick shower, sugarplum,” Simon said. They’d just gotten home from the annual Christmas Eve dinner at the shelter, where they’d helped serve a two hundred and fifty-two homeless people a decent meal. Emily had talked personally to as many as she could, handing out brochures and encouraging them to stay afterward. She would be lucky—and thankful—if thirty or forty took her advice, but if that many people had a better night, and maybe a few of them a better future, that made her efforts more than worthwhile.

And she was fairly exhausted, but not too exhausted to follow through on her plan now that they were home. She and Simon had already developed a few little holiday traditions—and among them was serving dinner to the homeless on Christmas Eve, then coming home and exchanging their gifts to each other. “Okay,” she replied.

“I’ll…meet you in the living room in a few. With your present.”

She smiled, and he did, too, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

But that didn’t change how strange things had been between them lately. As she watched Simon disappear behind the bathroom door, her heart hurt remembering how unhappy he’d continued to seem these past couple of weeks. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that he was “sticking it out” with her until the holidays were over and then might very well be planning to break up.

Every time that thought hit her, it was like a physical blow. And now, with
that
horrible pressure weighing her down, she had to give him the gift she’d been planning—and hope it wasn’t too late to save what they had.

She’d followed Dawn’s advice to the letter—she’d practiced touching herself, once even doing it in front of the mirror, so she could see what
Simon
would see. She’d grown comfortable with the feel of her own breasts, and even her pussy. She could say 45

Lacey Alexander

that now, and lots of other naughty words, without flinching. Because she’d practiced that, too—dirty talk—also in front of the mirror.

She’d thought herself pretty resourceful when she’d bought Popsicles to simulate sucking Simon’s cock. Of course, they were much smaller than what she’d be putting in her mouth tonight, and cold, too—but it had at least allowed her to develop some techniques, and she figured it was better than nothing. And she’d actually reached a place where the idea of taking his shaft between her lips held some appeal for her, some true desire.

So she was as ready as she
could
be.

But she also knew that putting her plans and practice into action would be an entirely different and more complex endeavor. So even though she’d gone through the last two weeks with a smile on her face—at some points truly happy about her new self-discoveries and plans for Simon, at others stressed out and just trying to keep the peace with him until she could complete her “self-education”—her stomach churned and her hands trembled as she went to the bureau to pull out the naughty little outfit she’d bought for this evening.

The shower still ran behind a closed door when Emily once again found herself before a mirror, looking like a December centerfold. Or at least she
hoped
that’s how she looked.

She wore a red velvet shelf bra sporting white fur along the top edge, the naughty lingerie built to support her breasts but not to conceal them, so her nipples were fully on display and hard with excitement. Below that, a very short, flouncy, red velvet skirt with more white fur at the hem—and no panties underneath, which had the desired effect of making her feel positively wicked, in a
good
way. Black boots came to her knees and a Santa hat sat perched on her head.
Mrs
.
Santa Gone Bad
.

She quivered a bit at the sight of herself, with both nervousness and excitement, imagining Simon’s surprise at finding his gift already unwrapped and ready to be played with.

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* * * * *

Simon ran a towel through his mostly dry hair, then stepped into a pair of underwear and the flannel pants Emily had laid out on the bed for him. Of course, they were dotted with tiny reindeer, ornaments hanging from their antlers. She’d given them to him last Christmas. Why were reindeer becoming such a theme in his wardrobe? But for Emily, he would wear them.