Dream Lover

EIGHT

With a goal to work on, Elle went about cleaning the house. She’d worked in her family restaurant for half her life now; she had plenty of experience at picking up messes and doing it quickly and efficiently. She started by sweeping up the dust and soot that had collected on the floor for what had to have been months judging by the heights her piles reached. She worked the piles toward the hole in the floor and swept them out. She took a second, and then a third pass with the broom then found the scrub bucket and brush. She started from the farthest point from the whole and worked her way back to it. Night had fallen and Byron had finished roasting the little pig he killed before she finished she picked up his laundry and placed it in a corner when she found no basket for it.

While she was working around the bedroom area of the tree house, she stumbled into yet another of the house’s impossibilities. This time she decided to accept it and move on.

 The bathroom had running water with the option for both hot and cold. Indoor plumbing in a tree house might not have been so impossible if she had been able to find a pipe. The water was just appearing and then disappearing literally out of nowhere. After the mysterious pipeless plumbing, there was the role of green sitting next to the toilet. She supposed it could be some weird version of toilet paper but it felt like thin cloth and it looked like some sort of processed leaf. She could have given herself a headache trying to figure it out but instead, she went to work washing the grime out of the tub, toilet, and sink. She scrubbed the floor in there as well and dusted her hands together. He thought it would take days, she thought, smiling to herself.

When she emerged from the bathroom, he'd already pulled off his boots and marred her otherwise, spotless floor. "maybe you should start taking your boots off first thing." She swept up the mess he made. Then she took the boots to the window, slapped them together, and watched a cloud of dust float off in the night breeze. 

As a reward to herself she crossed to the chest of drawers opened it and found one of his shirts she pulled it out held it against herself and checked the length. Deciding she liked it, she found a towel and turned for the bathroom without a word. When she emerged a second time, she set her panties near the fireplace to dry, and turned to study the bed where Byron was sleeping. Before she could talk herself into sleeping on a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, she slid between the sheets with him, closed her eyes and waited for the seduction. 

Byron woke up in the middle of the night hard as iron. Elle had cleaned the entire house in one night, then she'd put on one of his shirts and climbed into bed with him. He had made sure the bed was made long enough but he hadn’t done anything extra with the width. She slept soundlessly inches away from him her breasts rising and falling gently the shadow of her n*****s barely visible in the moonlight and one long leg exposed to the hip. He reached out to touch her, planning on waking her and making love soon after.

 Her skin was cool to the touch, much too cool. Byron pressed his ear to her chest fearing the worst, her heart beat slow and steady. He tried to wake her again, this time, as reassurance the girl hadn't gotten sick as she complained she would because the tiny exposed cut on her arm.

 She didn't respond, not even when he lifted her shoulders and shook. At a loss, he got up to stoke the fire then pulled her close to him. She moaned a little when he pulled her into his side and then began to move.

Byron froze. She slid herself slowly over his body until she was resting on his chest. He slept nude, ignoring the feel of her soft bare thigh against him was expecting too much of his chivalry.

 He tried to adjust, to move her leg to the left but he didn't have the self control to stop at nudging her one way or another. His hand seemed to act of its own will caressing her thighs and her buttocks. He thought to explore further but decided against torturing himself. He withdrew his hand, quickly recovered her bottom, and wondered how he earned this punishment. 

Elle didn't stay so close to him the entire night; Byron even believed she wouldn't have stayed quite so long if he hadn't chosen the small of her back, for lack of a more comfortable place, to rest his arm. When he was nearly insane with need, he put his hands behind his head and almost instantly she slid off him then rolled on to her side to lay facing the fire. The instant he was free of her Byron sought the privacy in the bathroom and engaged in a type of relief he hadn't found necessary since he was thirteen.