Adam is retrained as a castle slave.
Or doing long series of Kegel exercises with his hardon in her ass, the Kegel's something she'd begun during her search for his absolutely favorite activity. She cracked a brief smile over how on more than one occasion she had added slow strokes to the Kegels and managed to bring him off, phenomenally strong orgasms for him, a huge sense of power for her. Even, eventually, orgasmic simultaneity! If it hadn't been so at first, that became his favorite - her invention!
Goose bumps rioted over her arms at the thought.
Memories, detailed and realistic, were fun but didn't help her sudden nervousness. She extracted the contents - one sheet of plain stationery, matching the envelope. A business card fell out, landed on the desk face up. A tiny color photo of Jason in the card's upper corner, then his business information, phone numbers, email.
It had to be a recent photo - it showed him at about the correct age. No longer graced with the glorious red-gold full beard of his grad-student days, but perfectly recognizable. He looked good - still lean, too. She didn't touch the card, just studied it as it lay, then unfolded the letter, looking for any marks of the deodorant stick. She didn't really expect to find a trace, and didn't - he was better than that!
She studied the little patch of writing in its surround of cream. More perfect cursive - she wondered if he'd had to try more than once?
May I send you a copy of a book I've written? If okay, let me know by e-mail. If not okay -for any reason whatever- I will regard no e-mail to mean "Do not contact me." I will honor your wishes, whichever way. -- -J
She read it through several times. It certainly sounded like her Jason: the approach was simultaneously oblique (failsafe communications: no answer = no further contact. Good thinking!) and fabulously blunt (that SCENT! What a killer tactic! At least, she HOPED it was an actual tactic!). In any case, very Jason indeed - subtle, a totally personal sexual advance, understandable only by her, yet a missive in which 30 minutes post-opening all touches of sexuality would have self-destructed without a trace!
More or less on autopilot, she turned on her computer. The initial whine of the hard disc wound upwards to frequencies beyond human hearing-range. It was a functional antique, her machine, and would take minutes to finish booting. No hurry - she had no idea, yet, what she might do. Certainly the easiest and safest thing would be to shred the letter and not respond - she trusted his word.
But - did she WANT to do that? Amazingly enough, after 30+ years of perfect but uneasy fidelity, she found herself seriously considering the idea of playing!
Reminiscing, she stared off into space, focused on the lath behind the wall's plaster: what a history, she and Jason had. Such a team! They had met the summer between her junior and senior years in high-school. Daddy was director of the famous oceanographic school in which Jason was studying, and had finally sent her off to sea to participate in a research cruise, as he'd long-ago promised - each sibling in turn had done the same. On the vessel, she was an official jobless-but-available "gofer", for the 34 day cruise.
She was accompanied by her best friend Vicky, plus Vicky's father, their official chaperone.