How Not To Fall by Emily Foster

Author:Emily Foster [Foster, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The Mechanoreceptors

After Charles goes into the lab the next morning, I spend Wednesday checking things off the shopping list he and I made, half-serious, half-giggling, over breakfast, and then I take all the stuff to his apartment. I nap in his bed in the afternoon, and by the time he walks in the door, I’m well rested, freshly showered, and vibrating with anticipation.

He suggests we eat, but neither of us has any interest in food.

“Come and see the stuff,” I say instead, and I lead him into the bedroom. “We’ve got”—I begin piling things on the dresser as I name each item—“black stockings, the garter kind not the stay-uppy kind; a blindfold—this is actually just a black scarf I had anyway; earplugs—not sure what those are for; some high-tech lube; and my one vibrator, yours for the asking.” I show him the remote-control vibrating Ben Wa balls I bought on impulse, thinking to strengthen my pelvic floor muscle. “Sorry I don’t have more to choose from.”

“It’s more than enough,” he says, returning my smile. We lock eyes, and I find I can’t smile anymore. My heart is thumping, and my knees are unsteady.

He says gently, “You sure about this?”

I nod mutely and kiss him on the lips.

He puts his hands on me—one on my face, one on my trapezius—and says, “The plan would be, I take off your clothes, I tie you to the bed, I do anything I like, for as long as I like. My intention. . .” He pauses, eyes still on mine. “I’ll make you come until you tell me to stop, or until you can’t move, whichever comes first. And then, when you’re exhausted to immobility, I’ll fuck you.”

I nod and we stand, looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then he begins to undress me with quick fingers as he says, “What will you say if you want me to stop doing what I’m doing?”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He pulls my shirt over my head. “I’m saying, all night—all month, if you like. If you want to stop for any reason at all, whether it’s because you want a glass of water or want to go to sleep or just don’t like what’s happening, what will you say?”

“Uh . . . ‘stop’?”

“That’s fine.” He undoes my shorts. “That means that if you say, ‘That tickles’ or ‘Uh-oh’ or ‘No’ or ‘Are you sure?’ or ‘That’s too much’ or ‘Don’t’ or ‘I can’t’ or anything else, I might ignore you.” He pushes my shorts and my panties in a bunch to the floor. I step out of them, and I’m naked in front of him, beginning to recognize I’ve taken on something that might be a little more than I bargained for.

I ask, “Um, can we have a ‘slow down’ one too, rather than a full stop? Like a yield sign?”

“Sure.”

“Then that one’s ‘wait.’ ”

“Right. ‘Wait’ and ‘stop.’ Are you ready?”

I nod and bite my lips between my teeth, heart thumping.

He stops. “You’re sure about this? You must be utterly clear with me.

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