"Okay."
Why was she listening to him?
His fingers left off stroking through her hair to move down upon her scalp in a pressured massage. She almost groaned with the pleasure of his massaging touch. Back and forth all over her head, her ears, her temples, even her jawbone and face. His touch was absolutely divine.
Sweat rolled off my face, as I worked back away from her face to her scalp again. I didn't think she knew how much noise she was making. I was quite curious as to how she heard at all. Sometimes I caught her reading my lips, but other times she'd heard me without seeing my lips. It was a mystery.
It was rewarding giving her a massage and yet very frustrating. Innocently meant or not the sounds she was making was like listening to an erotic soundtrack over and over. It was pretty hard to listen to and keep acting like a disinterested third party, but that was the sum total of the game for now.
Cautiously I let my fingers work down the back of her scarred neck to either side of the exposed alloy metal that encased her spine. Her moans grew deeper, but I felt hesitation to continue given the sheer mass of scar tissue that I felt beneath my fingers.
"I'm not hurting you am I?" I asked wanting to be sure.
Her voice came back to me in a husky whisper, "Don't stop! Oh please don't stop!"
I didn't. As I worked away gently but firmly on the healed over scar tissue she gradually crept over, until she was lying on her front. I massaged rhythmically across the roughed up terrain of her back. My thought was that surely I had to be hurting exposed nerves, but instead it seemed like I was relieving a great tension within her.
She lay melted against the rocky ground beneath her in a deep sleep. I didn't stop though, because she was asleep. Her moans and sighs told me that she was very much still enjoying the attention and I liked giving it to her. I doubted that she'd had any attention in a long time and it was good to give.
I decided to stop because the urge to continue the massage on down to her bottom was becoming overwhelming. That would be more about me than of any benefit to her. What was the use of tormenting myself any further than I already had this night?
I turned away from her and lay down to stare at the stars overhead. Patience it seems at times can be the hardest of all lessons to learn, often because it requires patience. She was dead to the world and I was very much throbbingly awake. It wasn't fair.