Cabin fever

The jeep came to standstill at last, after hours of travel. She leapt out of the car like a jack in a box, stretching her long, jean-clad legs. The air in the Smokie Mountains was crisp and fresh, and she breathed in, feeling the air fill her lungs up with the scent of pine. The clouds dotted the bright blue sky, like cotton wool in jars of spring water. She allowed herself a few minutes to take in the beautiful surroundings, stretching out her body and legs. And after she was a little more relaxed, her heart began to beat faster.

This was THE trip. He had called her just before she started driving up here, telling her that he couldn’t wait to see her and finally be with her for two whole days, just the both of them. He promised to meet her at the Pigeon Forge cabins very soon, and then hung up. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up as she thought of him, her blood pounding in her veins, her skin tingling with excitement.

They had never intended to take their relationship this far. It started out innocently enough. The new advertising executive being shown the ropes by her manager, who happened to be tall, dark and handsome, extremely suave and smooth, and oh-so-kind. She loved the way his Hugo Boss suits hung on his lean frame, the way he’d rub his chin when he was thinking. She loved the way he sipped his coffee, slowly, generously tasting each sip with relish. She loved the look of his constantly ink-stained hands, the creative kind of guy who was always bouncing ideas of note pads and drawing charts, his long tapering fingers twirling a pen around. She had a tremendous crush on him, that went without question.

But he was the boss, and she was the lowly executive. She never thought that he would pay any attention to her, until he singled her out to assist him in a huge deal one day, and they spent night after night working together at the office. When the deal was done, and their client was happy, they celebrated at a sushi bar and then later at a buzzing nightclub, where she saw him throw off his inhibitions, downed whisky shots one after another, and danced crazily with her, his hands boldly roaming over her waist, back, buttocks, legs. She was so excited she felt like she was going to faint.

When he kissed her that night, his breath smelling of cigarettes and whisky, his 2-day stubble muzling against her cheek, she yearned for him so badly that her whole body ached. In the cramped bathroom of the club, his deft fingers found her centre under her pink cotton briefs and as his mouth tugged and pulled at her tongue, his other hand kneading her breasts, thick and swollen with longing, she felt her whole world spinning, frenzied, as he brought her to a climax, a magnificent burst of starlight.

For the next week after the incident in the club, they were cordial to each other at work, working with each other as colleagues did. He never said anything to her, and she presumed it was a one-off affair, never to happen again. Her heart, though, was bruised: she had wanted more from him, never mind that he was married, that he had a picture of his beautiful wife on his desk. Never mind that he would probably be bad for her, that nothing could come out of their relationship. She had never wanted to sleep with a man so badly before. For that entire week, she went home feeling hot and bothered, masturbating herself to sleep at night, imagining his lips on hers, his mouth gnawing at her body.

The following week, she bumped into him after-hours at the bathroom area, and he nodded as she said hello. As quick as a flash, he suddenly turned around, grabbed her arm and pushed her into the executive bathroom, locking the door behind him. Dazed, she allowed him to pull open her blouse, unbuckle her bra and bury his face between her breasts, his tongue licking the pink buds of her nipples, as his hands deftly tugged her skirt and panties down. Again, his fingers crept into her, and with his other hand clamped over her mouth, he made her climax, over and over again.

But not once, not once did he undress. Not once did he try to have sex with her. Not once did he ask her to pleasure him. When she was spent, putting on her clothes again, he said to her quietly, “You’re so beautiful, so young and sexy and you have no idea how lovely you are. You have no idea how much I want you. But I want you to want me first. You must want me badly enough.” And then he kissed her again, a long and lingering kiss, before he straightened his shirt and walked out of the bathroom.

Did he not have any idea how much she wanted him? she thought to herself later that night as she sat in her living room, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Did he not know how she would kill to have him inside her? Did he not see all that? Tomorrow, she determined. Tomorrow I will show him that I want him as much as he wants me. Tomorrow.

So, the next day, she dressed to kill, with 3-inch red patent leather stilettos and a plunging red V-neck sweater which showed off enough cleavage to be sexy-classy and a soft chiffon skirt which hugged her slim legs. As her luck had it, she saw him coming out of his car in the parking lot. From a distance, she waved at him, he waved back, and she started walking towards him. It was still early, 7.30 a.m., most of her colleagues would only come in later.

They greeted each other, briefly, and then she stopped him, her hand on the lapel of his jacket. His mouth opened slightly, surprised. “Come here,” she beckoned, holding his hand. They walked quietly towards her car. She opened the doors, pushed him inside. “I do want you,” she whispered. “I want you so badly I feel myself aching everytime I see you. Remembering what you do to me.” With that, she took his hand, guided it under her skirt and he flinched slightly, realizing that she wore no underwear. For 5 minutes, they sat in her car, looking at each other, eyes fixed, no words exchanged, as he caressed her gently and she tried not to squirm with pleasure. As abruptly as they began, she pulled his hand away, looked deep into his eyes and said brightly, “Time to get to work!”

She knew she had hit the jackpot, however, when later that day, he pulled her aside and whispered to her, “This weekend. You and me. The Smokie Mountains.” She could only nod at him, mouth open, but inside, her heart was screaming with joy.

So, fate had brought her here. For the entire weekend, she would be with him. Just the two of them. She didn’t give a damn if he had to lie to his wife. She just wanted him all to herself. Just this once, she told herself. Just this once, and I’d be satisfied. She shuddered as she imagined the things he would do to her, remembering how he was so good at pleasuring her. Tonight, she would return the favour.

She decided to unload her suitcase first. He had given her the key to their rented cabin, and as she unlocked the cabin door and pushed it open, she was greeted by a magnificent floor-to-ceiling stone stacked fireplace in the living room. The furnishings were rich and luxurious in warm, brown tones. A fully equipped kitchen. A deck extended out from the living room, offering a gorgeous view of Mt. Le Conte. A hot tub on the deck! She tread upstairs in anticipation, sliding her hands on the smooth bannister of the staircare. The master bedroom took her breath away: a magnificent king-sized four-poster bed, lush carpets, a fireplace, a walk-in bathroom with his and her sinks, a jacuzzi tub in the corner.

Smiling, she unpacked her suitcase and changed into her skimpy bikini, the pink one which left nothing to the imagination. She was going to soak in the hot tub on the deck, greet him appropriately once he arrived. And finally, finally. She would have him. All to herself.

Humming happily, she went downstairs and started the hot tub running. She tied her hair up into a ponytail as she opened the refrigerator, which was well stocked with juices, cordials, soft drinks, beer and some food stuff. Pouring herself a tall glass of orange juice, she stood at the kitchen counter, imagining once again her entire weekend with him, the man she longed for so badly, the man she was falling in love with because of the way he made her feel. She wondered if he felt the same way, or whether his obsession with her was born of lust. Either way, it didn’t matter. She hoped to work him round to her track of mind soon enough. She just knew that sex with him was going to be mind-blowing, that he would not be able to get enough of her. That she would have him wrapped around her little finger.

Gleefully, she made her way to the hot tub and gently lowered herself in. The water was hot and swirled around her and she gasped a little at first, but once she was accustomed to the feeling, she relaxed and allowed her head to tilt back onto the head rest. This was the life. Outside on the deck, it was peacefully beautiful; the view of the mountains, the trees, the greenery, the sweet scent of the air. She had never felt this happy in a long a time. She closed her eyes, embracing the feel of the water on her skin, as she made little circles with her finger on her chest, exciting herself a little, anticipating his arrival.

The water was so warm and comforting that she fell asleep for a while and woke up abruptly ten minutes later when she heard the sound of a car approaching the cabin. It must be him! She slipped out of the tub, patted herself dry with a towel and padded back into the cabin in her bikini. Her face was a wreath of smiles, as she saw the door knob of the cabin’s main entrance turn open. A sudden rush of inspiration hit her, and she quickly stepped out of her bikini bottom, undid the strings of her bikini top and dropped the bikini onto the floor. There, she would greet him, in all her naked glory. She held her breath in anticipation as the door swung open.