In this erotic story, a young woman is inspired by the scent of roses and a rather unexpected Valentine’s Day celebration. Read on…
Angelica pulled her hair up and looked in the mirror, she was tired. She returned to the motel room that had been her home for a few weeks, while she was away for work. It was not a Bates Motel affair, and was nice enough. Clean. And working as a field engineer, she was in such a remote area that it was the closest to the bridge she was working on. Usually, she had a team when she was working. But for this job an emergency inspection, she was solo.
Her eyes returned to her tired visage. She turned around, and looked at the pizza box on the bed. It was either Italian or Chinese that she ordered if she wanted to eat, and she had had surprisingly fragrant moo shu pork, like the kind Sharon Olds described in her poem, ‘Primitive’ for the previous few nights.
But Angelica was not really hungry, she was restless. She closed and picked up the pizza box, and placed it on a rickety table beside the bed. She went into the shower, which she was glad was working. It had not been in the morning. But Claude had assured her it would, he would see to it. Claude was the manager-cum-mechanic of the motel who she had become friendly with.
In the shower, she touched her body tentatively. Every time she touched herself, she wanted more. Whether it was to massage her temples, or soap up her breasts or pubic hair. She let her fingers linger within her pubic hair for a long time. Even the warm water between her toes….
The rose and sandalwood shower gel was fragrant in the shower. The scent of the roses reminded her that it was Valentine’s Day, even though the shower gel smelled far sweeter than any roses she had actually received. She dried herself carefully, and then not so carefully. Her body was ripe for pleasure, and she was going to provide it for herself.
She sat down on the bed, and picked up her toolbox–not the work one with mechanical tools. But the small one she kept for traveling. Angelica loved the black box that framed her toy, the way the box followed its curves the same way her toy did hers. She placed it on her thigh, and just the weight the black and silver toy made her tingle with pleasure.
It was Claude.
Angelica stood up quickly, what was he doing here so late? Then she saw that it was barely 6:30, and thought how ridiculous it would look that she was already ready for bed. She put on a pair of jeans, and pulled on her t-shirt that said simply J’aime.
‘Hi Claude,’ she said, smiling at him when she opened the door. She could not ignore, he was good looking. She had noticed that right away, when she checked in. The faulty plumbing had given her a reason to have to talk to him a lot, and he did not seem put out by it.
Claude wore a tool belt around his hips, and she felt lascivious looking at the smear of grease on his white undershirt and jeans.
‘Shower okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ she answered barely audibly, but she nodded so he smiled.
‘Anything else you need? Anything else you need me to fix?’
Angelica could think of something she wanted him to fix for her, but she shook her head.
‘No, thank you. I am good.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Oh, and here.’
The roses took her by surprise, the smell of actual roses contrasted with the artificial rose scent of her body.
‘Now, I don’t want you to think that I went and got you roses…but um, a couple came here and had a fight…She gave me the roses, and I am giving them to you because it is Valentine’s Day and you deserve them more than me.’
‘She gave you roses? I cannot take your roses from you…’
‘Naw, a pretty lady deserves pretty roses…’
Angelica smiled at him, and then she saw his eyes riveted over her shoulder and she looked over it. Rose red, she looked at her traveling toolbox on the bed. Feeling exposed, she knew he knew what it was for.
‘You deserve a lot of things…’ Claude practically whispered.
They looked at each other, and Angelica moved back into the room. Claude followed her, and kicked the door closed behind him.
Angelica groaned when he backed her up against the edge of the bed. She fell onto it, her arms swinging up and pushing her massager further up the bed by the pillow. Claude knelt on the bed to take off his tool belt, before he straddled her.
‘Do you want to play?’ He asked, looking down at her.
She rolled onto a rose, that she pulled from underneath her head and looked up at him nodding.
They kissed. Their kisses smelled and tasted like roses because of the close proximity of the bouquet. Her nose was deep in roses when Claude flipped her onto her stomach and used her toy on her. He played with the vibrations, and her body burst in small and large ways as he did. Angelica reached behind her to touch him, and urge him on.
He did not have her heart, but he had the heart of her. He had her core, and he filled her deeply.
And he gave her roses on Valentine’s Day.