Warning: descriptions of heterosexual situations and coarse language.

Chapter 4: The Tigress Emerges

Ellie, still sitting in the tub, was starting to get a little cold. She checked the ends of her fingers, saw the beginnings of wrinkles in the skin and decided to get out. But she couldn't leave the bathroom yet. If Devon was already in the bedroom, no more fantasizing about John, and if she was in the bedroom alone, there was no telling when he might decide to go to bed, so she would have to stay locked in for just a little while longer.

She got up out of the tub, leaving the plug in place so the sound of the water running down the drain wouldn't give her away. Grabbing a big, fluffy towel, she dried herself off and then wrapped it around her body as she tried to decide what to do.

She had just done the laundry yesterday, and the big pile of clean towels caught her eye. That was it!

Taking the towels from the shelf, she arranged them on the floor in a makeshift bed, reasoning that it was just for a few more minutes and they could easily be put back. No one but she would know that she had been fantasizing about sex with John, and she sat down on the floor beside the tub, finally reclining and closing her eyes so she could concentrate.

John would kiss her tenderly and stroke her face, whispering soft, loving phrases into her ear – wait.

Ellie paused and opened her eyes. This was her fantasy. And it was not about Devon. So why should she imagine that John would act like Devon in bed? She decided to let her mind go where it would and closed her eyes again, settling back onto the towels with an eager smile on her face, curious to find out where her imagination would take her.

He would shift his weight from her and they would rest for a while, warming each other with their bodies. Looking into his eyes as they spoke about nothing, John's arm around her holding her close, the fingers of his other hand brushing her temple, she would smile and suddenly no longer be content to just lie there with him.

First, she would kiss him – his lips, his eyelids, his nose, his forehead. Then she would work her way down to his neck, pushing with her hands on his hips so he was lying on his back on the couch. Traveling downwards, she would spend some time on his chest, tickling with her fingers lightly through the hair there, settling her mouth on a nipple and sucking and biting lightly, looking up to see him raising an arm and propping his head up to enable him to watch her, his face split in a languorous grin.

Then she would move lower, cradling his expanding penis in one hand while running her tongue down the length of it, getting it good and wet as she continues on to his scrotum and teases it with the tip of her tongue while encouraging him to bend his knees, one hand pushing under a thigh.

Trading hands, she would continue to stroke his firming cock slowly and smoothly, all the way up and down its length, and place her other hand behind his scrotum, cupping his testicles and undulating her fingers to massage them slightly, still licking and flicking from the front.

As he moans and twists his hips at the sensation, she would stop licking and take one of his testicles into her mouth, carefully holding it there while moving her tongue from side to side underneath, switching after a few moments to the other side and finally releasing him and bringing her mouth back up to his cock, fully erect now and pulsing in her hand.

Pushing his legs back down flat on the couch, she would position herself with one knee beside his hips, the other foot on the floor and slide him slowly into her until she has all of him. Then, lying flat along his abdomen, belly to belly, with his penis in place, she would reach up and bring his face to hers, kissing him and biting his lower lip as she rotates her hips, sliding him in and out of her in a circular fashion.

He would raise his knees once again, helping her with the motion by holding her in place and pushing and releasing her upper legs with his thighs, and she would feel the rasping of his chest hair on her nipples and breasts, moaning into his mouth and sucking on his tongue while running her fingers through his hair.

Finally, when she was almost ready to scream from the pleasurable sensations flooding her body, she would release him and sit upright, raising herself up to the full extent of his cock and pushing back down again slowly, still making circles with her pelvis and speeding up the strokes when he starts to moan loudly and pant heavily.

She would play with her own breasts, massaging them and thumbing the nipples, checking to make sure he was watching, then let him take over as she wets the fingers of one hand and places them on her clitoris, no longer rising and falling but sitting squarely on him for the maximum possible penetration. The friction she creates on the little strip of muscle would cause her to jerk and move her hips erratically as her eyes close and she drops her head down, spine bent, letting her hair fall over her face and onto his chest.

She would throw her head back and use one hand to brush the hair out of her eyes and, just as she begins to raise and lower again, still using her fingers, she would feel the strong ripples of her vaginal muscles, and this would begin his orgasm, causing him to grasp her hips tightly and hold her down on him, digging his heels into the couch to help push his hips up, and Ellie would rise into the air on him, helping him to come by flexing and releasing her internal muscles in a classic Kegel exercise.

His eyes would squeeze tightly shut, his mouth in a grimace, as if in pain, and he would call out incoherently, straining his legs and buttocks, back arched, his breathing stopped. She would feel the molten heat of his semen on the inside mixing with her fire and prompting her to work her muscles harder, milking every last ounce from him greedily, and he would finally fall back down to the couch and open his eyes, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. She would once again lie on his abdomen and chest as her breathing begins to slow, head to one side, a contented smile on her face, and they would rest there, his arms wrapped around her, her hands at the back of his neck, until his penis shrinks, some semen spilling back out when she can no longer keep him in her.

She would sigh and look at him looking at her and say, "Oh, Devon, that was wonderful."

Hold the phone. Now what was happening? This was all very confusing, and Ellie shook her head to try and clear it, wondering why she had been thinking of John one minute and Devon the next. Unable to figure it out and deciding not to try, she removed sticky fingers from between her legs and stood up, a little groggy, feeling the residual heat and wetness.

She cleaned herself up, let the water out of the tub and tidied the bathroom, picking up the towels that were on the floor and putting them back on the shelf.

Gathering her discarded clothes and throwing them into the clothes hamper, she unlocked the door and turned out the light, clutching her towel around her as she walked to the bedroom, hoping Devon was already asleep.

Lying on the bed, wrapped in each others arms, their legs intertwined to bring their bodies as close together as possible, Casey would kiss Ellie tenderly and stroke her face, whispering soft, loving phrases into her ear. This would give them some recovery time and get Ellie used to his talking to her this way so he could institute the final part of his plan.

Casey paused again. That had sounded kind of cold, like it was some NSA mission or something that he was commissioned to execute. Well, spend enough time in this line of work and it was hard to break old habits. But under other circumstances, Casey could see that it would be entirely possible for him to fall in love with Ellie and spend the rest of his life doing everything he could for her, especially after he had broken her in, the way he was fantasizing.

Mentally shrugging, Casey figured that thought hadn't been according to the generally accepted definition of romance either but decided to continue in any case.

Whispering into her ear, he would encourage her to do the same, paying attention not only to what she was saying but the way she was saying it. If it was just a long string of "That was amazing," and other clichés spoken in a light tone, he would know he had his work cut out for him. However, if she was saying something a little more inventive, maybe something about how great his cock was or how he had made her ovaries tremble, using a low voice coming from deep in her throat, he could easily lead her to the two words that she needed to learn: "I want."

These were the two most important words for someone like Ellie. She was so used to giving and having men take that she never asked for what she wanted, what she needed. And now that Casey had shown her exactly what it was she needed, she should never hesitate to ask for it as her due as a well-rounded sexual being. And one helluva hot woman.

And she was sure to be a quick learner. As much as Chuck acted like an idiot sometimes he really was intelligent, and Ellie would probably be just as bright in her own way. So it wouldn't be long before she was asking Casey for what she wanted, and she also wouldn't hesitate to begin taking it. And this is where things would really get fun for Casey, because he was the one who would have the privilege of giving it to her.

He would whisper into her ear between kisses, "What do you want, Ellie, do you want me to fuck you?" and she would maybe be taken aback by the language and stiffen. Or maybe she would whisper back, "Yes, John, I want you to fuck me." And he would continue on, "Ellie, do you want me to eat you out?" "Yes, John, I want you to eat me out."

When she had gotten used to the idea that it was okay to say it out loud, he would ask her the open-ended question: "What do you want me to do for you, Ellie?" and she would answer him boldly with, "I want you to fuck me up against the wall, John," and he would be a more than willing participant.

So there they would be, Ellie riding his cock, back against the wall, thighs around his hips, feet hooked behind him, her breasts brushing his chest as he summons up a reserve of energy from somewhere and gives it to her good. At least it would be easier to make it last longer this time, even without a mantra, and Ellie would help him out by flashing that look at him again, the one that gives him his second wind as he grunts with every push up and deep into her.

She would squirm around and cry out, demanding more friction, more sliding, biting the side of his neck and digging her fingernails into his shoulders, and he would hitch her higher up the wall so her legs are around his ribcage, giving him more room to manoeuvre his pelvis back and forth, powering his cock in and out of her along most of its length and causing her to pant heavily through her nose, moaning noisily.

She would start to come, and this time she wouldn't try to break away but would encourage him to continue, saying, "Faster, harder, fuck me, John," into his ear, her long, dark hair getting in his face and falling down between them, sticking in the rivulets of sweat running from their heads and down both their bodies.

Then he would thrust upwards and stop abruptly, hearing her growl deep in her chest, still wanting more as he comes, and even though he would like to give it to her, he's done and exhausted, unable to continue, barely able to breathe.

Then the tigress would really make her presence known, because Ellie wouldn't be finished yet. As he puts her feet onto the floor and lets his flaccid penis slip out of her, she would place her hands on his shoulders and turn him around, back to the wall, and straddle a muscular thigh, kissing him fiercely before he can catch his breath, and then, with inward-looking eyes, she would begin to move against his skin, the friction from the hair on his leg stimulating her vulvae, her only concern her own pleasure.

And he would do his best on shaky legs to stay in position for her, because this is the final stage of her liberation. First she let him give her what she wanted. Then she learned to ask for what she wanted. Now she was learning to take what she wanted, and he would be pleased – tired but pleased – as she has her final orgasm, leaving a wet slick of both their juices on his leg.

They would hold each other tightly, not saying anything as their chests heave, and then she would become the old Ellie again, thinking about cleaning up and getting dressed, looking at him shyly as if he didn't already know every part of her. But now the glow would be there, shining out from her so brightly that she would no longer be able to hide it.

Casey got up from the chair and tidied the table, picking up the plastic bag holding the soggy towel and taking the glass and ice bucket into the kitchen. He returned to the living room and made sure everything was in place for the morning briefing and turned out the light before going up the stairs to his bedroom.

After a quick shower, pee and tooth brushing, he got into bed, set the alarm and turned out the light. He looked into the darkness, thinking that if he had made a different choice, chosen a different path in life, Ellie could have been his and his alone, and he sighed at the futility of the thought and turned over, falling asleep moments later.

The next day, Ellie felt a tingle down her spine as she walked towards the apartment door. Changing her bag of groceries to her left arm and groping in her shoulder bag for the keys, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She unlocked the door and went in, and as she turned to shut the door, her hand still on the doorknob, she was sure she saw the blinds at Casey's window move. Surprised at the sudden sense of anticipation that flooded her mind, she shook her head to clear it and closed the door, going straight to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

But that first jolt did nothing to prepare her for the rush of feeling that surged through her when she heard a light rap on the door, and she paused a moment before walking over to answer it, her brain repeating, It's him, it's him.

And finally, when she had opened the door to see that it was in fact John Casey standing there, a small brown paper package in his hand, her stomach lurched and she flushed as she recalled what she had been fantasizing about him the previous evening.

She collected herself a moment later, however, and invited him in. He passed by her and went into the living room, and when his back was towards her, Ellie frowned in puzzlement. Was she imagining things or had he reacted awkwardly to the sight of her as well? Before Ellie could decide, he had stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face her.

"Ellie," he began, and then cleared his throat and glanced at the floor for a moment before raising his head again to look straight at her. "We have to talk."

"Yes, John, we do," she replied, and Casey knew by the fact that Ellie had answered him with a statement and not a question that, even though she probably thought he was referring to a completely different matter, she was more than ready to unburden herself about their mutual dilemma.

Inviting him with a gesture to sit, Ellie sank to the couch, her wide eyes glued to him as he sat too, turning a bit to face her. When he reached out to take the hands that she had clasped together on her knees, she jerked them back quickly, leaning away from him, afraid of what his touch might do to her.

"Ellie, Ellie," he said softly, grasping her hands and prying the fingers apart so each one was held in his, "I'm here to help. Both of us."

Ellie frowned slightly at his words, but a moment later her features smoothed, and the look she finally turned to him was one of surprise.

"You know, don't you?" She said in wonder, and even though it was a rhetorical question, he nodded gravely and squeezed her hands slightly. Ellie paused, thinking quickly. "But you said to help both of us. You don't mean..."

"Yes, Ellie, that's just what I mean. I know you're attracted to me, just as I'm attracted to you, and since it's probably not something that should continue, I thought the best way to deal with it was directly."

Ellie nodded, digesting what he had just told her. Well, that was a shot for the old ego, anyways.

Suddenly seeing her way clear of a potentially awkward situation, Ellie smiled brightly and squeezed his hands in return.

"Thank you for saving me from myself, John," she said, now feeling completely comfortable to be alone with him.

"No problem, Ellie," he replied, giving her his broadest smile when he had seen the turn her thoughts had taken. "I think it's just better for everyone, don't you?"

"Oh, I agree, John, I agree," she chuckled, as they stood up together.

"Wait, I almost forgot!" Casey exclaimed, reaching down to the couch for the brown paper package. "Any time you're looking for some excitement, look no further than this."

He handed her the package and, as she was taking it from him, he bent down and lightly kissed her cheek. As he was straightening again, Ellie went up on her toes, wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed his cheek, then pressed the side of her face briefly to his before releasing him, and he turned and walked to the door, letting himself out.

Ellie stood for a moment looking at the closed door, a reflective smile on her face. Remembering the package, she frowned and ripped the paper open to reveal a hardcover book. Seeing the title, her face split into a large grin, and she laughed with pleasure as she read it aloud:

"Spice Up Your Love Life: What To Do To Stay Together When You're Thinking of Cheating."

Later that evening, Devon was sitting on the couch sipping on a green smoothie and watching an Ironman competition being broadcast live from the interior of British Columbia, Canada, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he gasped aloud as he saw Ellie standing in the doorway, one hand on a hip thrust sideways, the other arm extended up the wall, and a sly, seductive smile on her face, dressed in a way he had never seen her dressed before.

His eyes focused on the top of her head, where her hair was pulled into two high pigtails, and moved to her face, luscious red lipstick making her lips appear even fuller than usual and slightly pouty. She was wearing a red gingham-checked blouse, the top buttons open low enough to reveal ample cleavage created by a specially engineered bra underneath.

As his eyes grew wider and moved lower, he noticed that the blouse tails were tied tightly up under her bust, followed by a large expanse of bare abdomen, and the cut-off jean shorts that she was wearing started a few inches south of her navel so that a thin line of pubic hair could be seen above the waistband as the smooth curve of her belly arched invitingly and disappeared beneath the fabric.

The legs of the jeans had been cut very high and left ragged, showing off to perfect effect her long, slim thighs and shapely calves, and the tantalizing ensemble was completed by red nail polish on the toes of her bare feet.

She was even chewing on the end of a long piece of straw, and Devon, whose attention was no longer on the television, smiled stupidly at her when she removed the straw from her mouth and said to him with a hill twang, "I hear it's Sadie Hawkins Day. And I choose you."

He was thoroughly enjoying the show when she turned her back to him and wiggled her bottom, but his eyes practically popped out of his head when she bent over, knees stiff, feet spread apart, pigtails swinging, and reached towards him between her thighs, slowly massaged her vulva through the denim fabric, then cocked a finger at him through her legs and wiggled it to indicate he was to follow her.

Ellie straightened up and sauntered out of the room, throwing Devin one last coquettish look over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Devon, momentarily frozen, suddenly gulped and pulled himself together, finally jumping up from the couch and hurriedly turning off the TV before running to their bedroom, where Ellie presented him with a battered straw hat to wear and tied a bandana around his neck before walking over and closing the bedroom door.

Around ten o'clock, as Casey sat in his pyjamas and robe, headphones over his ears, munching on a cookie while listening to Chuck snore, his curiosity finally got the better of him. With a couple of mouse clicks, he had switched his surveillance system to the pickup in Ellie and Devon's room, and he smiled as he heard Devon's voice, low and throaty, stuttering out, "Oh, Elly-May, Elly-May, oh, Ellie, oh, El, El, oh, ooooohhhh... Aaawww-sommme!"