Can I Give You a Lift? Pt. 02

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Amateur

Part II

Love on the rocks.

*

Author’s Note

If it’s not obvious from the title, this is a sequel to ‘Can I Give You a Lift?’ If you have not read the first one yet, you’ll be missing out on a lot of how Dani and Ava met, and how their relationship began. This one’s a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so hang on. It ends well.

Oh, and if you want to play Neil Diamond’s Love on the Rocks for the first part of the story, go ahead and get it cued up, I’ll wait.

Enjoy!
-Wax Philosophic

*

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

There are elements of dominant-submissive role playing in this story. It’s mild, but if it offends you, please find something else to read.

*

Can I Give You a Lift? Part II

“Dani, how come you never let me do that for you?” Poor Ava. I knew this conversation would come up eventually. I’ve been holding off on telling her the truth, afraid of how she will react. Not wanting to hurt her. And selfishly, at the same time not wanting to lose her.

“It’s enough for me just to make you feel good.” I don’t meet her eyes. I can’t. She’ll know something’s up.

Ava’s head is lying on my chest, a few strands of her dark hair still stuck to her cheek, as I share in her post-orgasmic bliss. I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm and hoping that my heartbeat does not betray me. “I like to make you feel good, baby.”

“You do make me feel good, Dani. So good. And I want to be able to do the same for you.”

“It’s enough just having you next to me, Ava. Please. Trust me on this.”

She says nothing in return. I know she’s not satisfied with my answer, but she’s too demure to make a fuss. Funny that this is what attracted me to her in the first place. Now it’s that same quality making it hard for me to tell her the truth.

I think about the results of my latest MRI. Think about words like ‘upper motor neurons’ and ‘lesions’ and ‘macrophages’. I do not want Ava to ever have to know these words, or the initials MS. I don’t want her to see what their effect will be on me over time.

Oh god, why did I have to fall in love with her? This would be so much easier if she were like all the other women in my life — transient flings, a brief rubbing together of flesh — no emotional underpinnings.

“It’s not you Ava, it’s me.” Totally cliché I know, and she calls me on it.

Six months ago she would have just accepted it, wouldn’t have even questioned me. Hell, six months ago Ava wouldn’t have even looked me in the eye, but oh how things have changed.

“You know I don’t believe that Dani.” She hasn’t stirred yet, still has her head on my chest, running her fingers gently over my arm. I’m going to have to push a little harder. God I hate myself for doing this.

“Ava, I really don’t care if you believe it or not. That’s all there is to it. Now, would you please just drop it already?” I’ve never raised my voice with her before, and I think she’s a bit startled by my reaction.

Ava lifts her head from my chest and begins sliding off the bed. “I should just go.”

“Good idea,” I say. Ava’s facing away from me as she gets dressed, so she doesn’t see me as I wipe the tear from my cheek.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says and turns to go. She doesn’t even slam the door. If someone just treated me this way, I’d be slamming the door. Why can’t you just slam the goddamn door, Ava? This would be so much easier if you hated me.

I bury my face in the pillow and cry myself to sleep.

*

Tuesday is the day I’ve been dreading. I’ve had another relapse, I’m back to walking like a peg-leg pirate again, and that means another round of physical therapy. I’m going to have to face Ava. I had thought of finding another clinic to visit, but I really like my therapist. Besides we’re all adults here, we should be able to maintain a level of professional courtesy.

My hand is shaking as I sign in. “Hi Dani,” she says.

“Hi Ava.”

“Everything OK?” She’s looking me right in the eye. She never used to do that. It’s going to make it harder for me to lie.

“Yeah. Just fine,” I manage, and turn away. I walk over to join my therapist standing amid the exercise equipment. I’m hobbling along like a pirate.

“Another relapse, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, frowning.

“Any numbness or tingling this time?”

“Nope, just the same stiffness and dull ache.”

“Alright, let’s see if we can get you walking again.” And she proceeds to put me through a series of exercises that, believe it or not, actually make a slight improvement. I’m not quite walking like a normal human being yet, but at least I’m not dragging my leg as I head toward the door.

“Dani,” she says, as she hustles over to catch me before I leave. “I know this is none of my business, but Ava’s been really worried about you. You should tell her.”

“She can look it up in my file.” But I know she can’t, not with güvenilir bahis patient confidentiality. Ava just schedules the appointments, she has no idea why I’m here and what’s wrong with me.

I push the door open and walk out into the summer air. It’s a gorgeous day, and I decide to play hooky the rest of the afternoon instead of going back to work. I hop on my bike and ride to the park. At least that’s something I can still do without too much problem.

As I’m whizzing down the trail I feel my phone vibrate. It’s probably work wondering where I am, so I pull off and take a look. ‘Call from: Girlfriend’ it says on the screen. “I really need to change that,” I think as I let it go to voicemail. Another half a mile down the bike trail and I feel another buzz in my pocket. I know who it is, so I just keep going. It’s a beautiful sunny day and I don’t want to spoil it.

That night when I put my phone on the charger, I happen to glance at the text message. It’s from ‘Girlfriend’. I really do need to change that. ‘Can we talk?’ it says. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I’d like to help.’ I delete the message.

I flop onto the bed and cry myself to sleep.

*

The next week when I sign in for my appointment, there is a plate of baklava sitting at the front desk with my name on it. Damn that girl, she just doesn’t give up. I finish up my exercises, grab my baklava and head out the door. I try not to catch Ava’s eye as I leave.

Ava knows I can’t resist her baklava, damn her. I summon all of my willpower, but it only buys me an extra ten minutes before I’m ripping into the cellophane and hoisting some of the luscious dessert to my lips. Underneath that first piece is a note.

‘Dinner,’ it says, ‘at the diner. My treat. If you don’t call to confirm, I promise I will make a scene at your next appointment. Trust me, I know how. I learned from the best.’

“I bet you did,” I mumble as I pull out my phone and scroll down to ‘Girlfriend’.

“You ready? Ten minutes,” she says and hangs up. I don’t even get a chance to say hello. Maybe that’s part of her plan. No time to back out.

Nine and a half minutes after her call, I enter the diner. Ava’s already there at the counter with a cup of coffee, so I take the seat next to her. I say nothing, just pull out a menu and contemplate today’s specials. Two minutes later I can’t even remember what they are.

“We can order something light,” she says, “I assume you’ve already pigged out on baklava.”

I allow myself a tiny smirk behind the menu that hides my face. She knows me too well.

“I hear the soup is good,” she offers, laying her hand on my arm.

“Not as good as yours.” I lower the menu a few inches.

“Dani, what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” Ava’s looking me directly in the eye. Six months ago I was practically begging her to do that. Now I just wish she’d stop.

“It’s complicated.” I shift my gaze back to the menu.

“Not good enough,” she replies, taking the menu from my hand and setting it down on the counter. She still has her other hand resting on my arm, and she’s stroking lightly with her fingertips, so I know she’s not angry. My stomach knots. I am a horrible person.

“Please Ava, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, I think it’s a little late to be worrying about that, don’t you?”

I pull my arm away.

“Sorry,” she offers. She rests her hand on the counter, in the space where my arm used to be.

I place my hand on hers in what I hope is a reassuring touch. I take deep breath. “Not here, OK?”

Ava stands up, throws five dollars on the counter and squeezes my hand. “Come on,” she says, “I know a place with much better soup anyway.”

“We drove separately,” I remind her. “What makes you think I even remember where you live?”

“I see you riding your bike by my place almost everyday.”

I shrug. “It’s on the way to the park.”

Ava just smiles. And for the first time in a long time, so do I.

*

I am just finishing up the most delicious bowl of soup I’ve had in weeks, when Ava lays her hand on mine. She says nothing, she doesn’t have to, I know what we’re here to talk about. I take a deep breath. Ava gives my hand a reassuring stroke with her thumb.

“Ava,” I say. “Do you know what MS is?”

“Multiple sclerosis? Yeah, I think a few of the patients at the clinic have it. That’s why they come in for physical therapy.”

I look at her. She looks at me.

“You?”

I nod.

“You’re so young, Dani. I always thought you had a sports injury.”

I shake my head.

Bless her heart, Ava doesn’t try to offer me any sympathy or any bullshit words of encouragement like, ‘I’m so sorry’ or ‘hang in there, we’ll beat this thing together’. All she says is, “I don’t see how that changes anything between us.”

I squeeze my eyes as hard as I can, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming. And after blubbering my way through half a box of tissues, Ava gives my back a final caress and stands up. “I’m going to make some tea, you want some?”

“Thank you,” I say as türkçe bahis she sets the steaming mug in front of me. She sits down and places her hand on my back, offering comfort, but waiting for me to continue at my own pace.

“It started with my leg,” I say. “I went in thinking it was a torn muscle. A simple blood test ruled that out. Then it was on to an ultrasound of my veins and an x-ray of my lower back. Nothing significant there. After a while it sort of went away.”

I feel Ava’s hand making tiny circles over and between my shoulder blades. The caresses feel so nice. Why did I ever push her away? I screw up some more courage and continue.

“A few months later it was back. I was limping again, but this time it came with something new. The clinical term is sexual dysfunction, but basically it means that even though I’m still fertile, it’s very difficult for me to enjoy sex.”

Ava frowns, but the caresses never stop.

“I suppose it could be worse,” I say. “I could have incontinence. That sounds like a real winner, huh?”

“Is that why you never let me …?”

I nod my head. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Oh Dani, I wish you would have told me instead of pushing me away.” Ava’s response surprises me. Again, there’s no false hope like, ‘Surely there must be some kind of cure, we just have to find it.’ Just a simple caress and an admonishment not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

I lean over to kiss her on the cheek. “So now you know,” I say. “I’m truly sorry for what I put you through. But unless there’s a major breakthrough, I’m not going to be getting any better. So if you don’t want to stick around and watch me go downhill, I won’t blame you.”

Ava laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed lately, I’ve got about ten years on you. We can go downhill together.”

I smile and lay my head on Ava’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dani. But I swear to god, if you ever treat me like that again, I will walk out on you. And you’ll have to find your baklava somewhere else.”

“I — I’m sorry.” A single tear is leaking from my eye and rolling down my cheek.

Ava reaches over and uses her thumb to wipe it away. “I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you. Promise.”

“I know.” I sniffle. “And just so you know, I still like sex.”

Ava grins.

“It’s just more cerebral for me,” I explain. “Basically, I get off from getting you off.”

Ava’s grin turns to a wry smile. She leans over and whispers in my ear, “Tell me more.”

*

It’s Saturday afternoon and Ava and I have just stepped out of the shower. Neither of us is going to be getting dressed today, but I do slip into a robe. I’ve got something else in mind for Ava to slip into.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Ava nods her head.

“If you feel uncomfortable at any time, just say slow down or stop and I promise I will. And there’s safety scissors on the nightstand.”

Ava grins as I pick up the first length of rope. I coax her to raise her arms. She holds them out to the side as I wrap around her, just under her breasts. “You’re gonna look so sexy when this is done.”

She’s still smiling as I come around for the second pass, this one over the top. I love the way her breasts look, peeking out between the two double-passes of cord. I’ve never had a girlfriend so well endowed and it certainly is a treat. “You can put your arms down now, baby.”

“I feel like an art project,” she laughs.

“You look like a goddess.” I pull the ends of the rope over one shoulder, pass under and over the cords wrapped above and below her breasts, and go back over the other shoulder before tying it off. I cinch everything up and check that it’s not too tight. “You are now properly shinju’d, baby. How does it feel?”

“Sexy.” She smiles. “So does this get you hot?”

I run my tongue where the rope meets Ava’s skin, and then take a detour to flick her nipple. “Does it get you hot?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Then it gets me hot. See how easy that is? You get to experience the pleasure. I get to experience the pleasure of giving you the pleasure.”

“Mmm. Can’t argue with that.”

I can’t help myself, I take a swipe at her other nipple with my tongue. “Delicious.”

Ava shudders momentarily. “But I can still move around. I thought you said you were going to tie me up and make me beg.”

“Patience, baby.” I fetch another length of rope. “Hands please.” Ava extends her hands toward me. “Inside of your wrists together.” I give her hands a gentle turn, and then proceed to wrap the rope around three times before running it between and securing it with a simple knot. “Comfortable?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Ava’s skin is flushed pink, and her pupils are like saucers. She’s very receptive to all of this, and if I had to guess, I’d say she’s enjoying herself quite a bit.

Taking the ends of the rope in my hand, I lead Ava out of my bedroom and into the living area. I tug on the rope, parading her naked form past the large sliding door that leads to the balcony.

It’s a sunny day and I know that anyone outside would have a hard time making out güvenilir bahis siteleri anything but shadows if they looked up. I wonder if Ava knows that. If she didn’t, would she even care? She looks pretty dreamy-eyed at the moment, and her nipples are like diamonds.

“I can still move my hands,” she says, extending them out to one side and then the other to demonstrate.

I give the rope a sharp tug and Ava comes stumbling over. “But I still control you, baby.”

Ava’s face is positively beaming. I’m guessing that all of the sex she had with her ex-husband was strictly missionary position, and strictly for his pleasure. Poor girl. Well, better late than never.

I take the ends of the rope that are in my hand and pass them through the wrap in the center of her chest harness. Taking a moment to inspect my work, I swirl my tongue over and around each of Ava’s nipples. Not only are they rock hard, but they’re now glistening. A little shiver runs through me.

“What were you saying about being able to move your hands?” I give the end of the rope a tug, and it cinches up, forcing Ava’s bound hands to land squarely between her gorgeous tits. I hear a sudden gasp, then her brain catches up, and she lets out a long lusty moan.

I drape the ends of the cord over my shoulder and parade her around the living area one more time. “Some day I’ll take you to the diner like this.”

Her eyes go wide.

“Relax, I’ll let you put clothes over the top. Only you and I will know.”

Ava’s look of shock has turned into a wide grin. I mentally kick myself for not introducing Ava to the kinky side of me earlier. She’s obviously into it and it certainly would have spared a lot of heartache.

“I’m going to make some tea. Want some?”

Ava shakes her head. I take the ends of the rope I’ve been using to tug her around and lay them over the back of one of the breakfast bar stools. “Don’t go anywhere, baby. I’ll be right back.”

As I move around to the kitchen to put on the kettle, I notice that Ava is fidgeting a little, shifting from one foot to the other. “You OK?”

She nods.

“You know it’s alright to talk. And you don’t have to call me Mistress or anything. Not yet, anyway.” I give her a sly grin. Ava looks like she’s ready to pass out. And I have a pretty good idea about the source of her fidgeting. I walk around to her side again and reach down between her thighs.

I press upward, and Ava moans.

I take a look at my fingers. Oh my god, she’s soaking. “You’ve really got a problem down there don’t you baby?”

Ava moans again. A little louder. A little more urgently.

“Poor thing. Let me take care of you.” I reach down again, and Ava does an odd little curtsy in order to give me better access. I waste no time, and plunge two of my fingers in until I’ve reached the spot that makes her quiver.

“Mm-ahh. Mmm-ahhh.” This is all I hear from Ava. She’s not exactly forming coherent sentences at the moment. I continue plunging my fingers in and out while Ava keeps on making noises.

Playtime is interrupted by the whistling kettle. “Sorry, baby. Duty calls.” I stick the ends of the rope between Ava’s teeth, and bring my hand up to inspect my fingers. I make sure she’s watching me suck them clean as I walk around to the stove.

Poor Ava is bouncing up and down and moaning, gritting her teeth against the rope. I almost feel sorry for her, but I know she’ll wind up satisfied in the end. “Keep going baby,” I tease, “I like watching your tits bounce.” I take my time pouring hot water over the tea bag in my cup.

“Mmm-mmmm,” I hear.

Returning to the breakfast bar, cup in hand, I retrieve Ava’s rope ends from her mouth. I throw them over my shoulder and sit down. “You can sit too.”

“Mm-ahh.” She’s bouncing again.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know what that means.” I lean over to pet her folds with one hand while I hold my mug in the other. She’s still squirming, but the desperate moans have died down a bit. “Sorry baby, but I’ve only got the one hand.”

Ava is shamelessly grinding away on my hand. I let her do it for a while and then pull it back just a little so that she has to struggle to maintain contact. My tea is still too hot to drink. Poor girl, she’s going to have to wait.

“Don’t you dare come on my hand,” I tell her. “I will be very disappointed if you do.”

Ava looks at me with pleading eyes.

“Alright, baby. Follow me.” I tug Ava down the hall to my bedroom, stopping in front of the dresser. I fetch two items from the top drawer — another length of rope, and a vibrating egg. The egg I set to low, and press it against Ava’s thigh. “You feel that?”

Ava nods. A grin is spreading across her lips.

“You know where that’s going, right?”

Ava’s nodding rather vigorously.

I pick up the rope. “And you know how we’re going to keep it in, right?”

Ava moans. I press the egg against her entrance until it is swallowed up and disappears. Her eyes are twinkling, and I swear if that girl’s smile gets any bigger she’s going to need surgery to remove it.

I wrap a couple passes around Ava’s waist and then run the rope twice, front-to-back between her legs. It’s close enough to the center to keep the egg from falling out, but easy enough to move aside when I want to get my tongue in there.

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