The White Canvas Operation

THIRTEEN (Sunny P.O.V)

Picture: 'The Walk' by AlbrechtDürer. 1498 

'White Canvas Operation' phase fourteen: encourage intimacy.

Penthouse on 998 Fifth Ave, New York.

"Oh my God! I'm so embarrassed I could die," I mumble walking out of the bathroom wearing my La Perla pyjamas made of dark blue silk, the shirt is embellished with a hand-applied floral macramé and, despite the pants are long, the outfit is quite revealing because of the delicate fabric. I tend to wear soft and beautiful clothes when I'm too stressed, the kind of garments I dreamed of buying years ago but I barely had money for food and basic things, I feel powerful and confident when dressing like this... I know the suit doesn't make the woman... but it helps. "I wonder if she noticed..." I ask to myself out loud while letting my back drop on the mattress. I put my hands on my cheeks feeling them burning again. "Yes, Stella is pretty observant, she must've noticed that I was acting really weird... and I want to die now..."

I cover my eyes with my hands exactly like I wanted to do this evening: I didn't want to look at her face, I've never felt so mortified in my entire life and seeing her eating, licking jam from her spoon, smiling amused at André, leaning back on her chair with that casual style that's her signature... it didn't help at all... not to mention that perfume that goes to my head every time she moves. Why does she have to be so beautiful? So sensual and interesting? Why can't she be more Australian, funny and easy going, instead of so French? I love her continental charm and elegance as much as I hate them... and that smirk will be the death of me.

"Damn it, Cassandra. What on earth were you thinking?"

I've tried to convince myself that what happened this afternoon was the result of many exhausting months taking care of my ill wife and then executing her last living requests. Sex wasn't high on my list of priorities but now I'm living with a woman who exudes sensuality through her pores and I think it's pretty reasonable being attracted to her. That would be the logical explanation for my behaviour but I know that I'm trying to lie to myself: my reaction wouldn't be this intense if I were living with another woman instead of Stella Carlin. She's the only star of my erotic fantasies.

When I came down from the studio in order to take a shower a change my clothes before the tea that was exactly what I had in mind. I arrived to my bedroom and got undressed before walking into the bathroom. I was tempted to fill the tub for a second and enjoy a long bath looking at Central Park through the wide windows but I didn't have enough time for that so I stepped into the massive shower made of grey marble, after all it looks like a box of glass and allows you to look at the park too while scrubbing your body. I turned the hot water on and smiled when I remembered that I had a new bottle of shower gel with argan oil added that I still hadn't tried. I'm one of those people who open the bottle of a new shampoo that I bought because the colour caught my eye even if I have three bottles already open and unfinished. I took my new shower gel thrilled and started to scrub my body, my hands slipped easily through my skin thanks to the oil and the sweet scent filled my mind. I leaned my back on the marble wall behind me, closed my eyes and slid my hand towards my...

It felt like she was with me in real life, in my shower... I wanted to open my eyes just for a second because I feared that she had come into my bedroom actually, even if I knew that was impossible, so I closed my eyelids stubbornly and got carried away with my fantasy:

"Give me that, Sun... I'll do it..." Stella takes the bottle of gel and squirts a generous blob into one hand, warm water falls on us like a soft rain, running down her skin and highlighting her colourful tattoos. I remain still like a doll, leaned against the marble wall, and spread my arms in order to make more room for her while she slides her hands over my neck, my shoulders, my breasts... her naughty fingers pinch my nipples and I bite my lower lip in response holding my breath. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through my veins and my uterus clenches hard... it's been a while since I don't... "It's too slippery here due to your shower gel, you should be careful... I don't want you to fall down," she whispers while rubbing my waist , my hips and thighs... before grabbing one and lift it in order to put my foot on the marble bench leaving me exposed to her eyes and hands.