The Tape

Maggie raised an eyebrow and Barbara looked down and sipped her wine. "There's no shame in not having climaxed. It takes time and an understanding of your own body. You're not born knowing, you have to learn. Do you know where you like to be touched? What makes you hungry for more?"

Barbara continued to stare into her wine glass.

Maggie reached into her pocket and found the audio tape she had somehow known would be there. She pulled it out and stared at the label. "I don't understand how this got into my pocket, but there's a lot about my assignment I don't quite get yet. This is one tape in a series that a friend of mine made. He creates sensational erotica and has a soft, sexy voice, so he found this unique way to package his stories." She put the tape into Barbara's hand. "I'm going to give you an assignment."

Barbara looked up and giggled. "Homework?"

"Sort of. You must have a tape player." When Barbara nodded, Maggie continued. "I want you to fill the bath tub with nice warm water and play this tape. Just play it. If you're tempted to follow the instructions you'll be given, do it. No one will be watching, no one judging. Just you. Will you do that for me?" When her friend hesitated, Maggie said, "Please?"

"If it's important to you and your assignment."

"It is."

"Okay."

"Good." Maggie patted the back of Barbara's hand. "And find a new bar of soap, one you've never used of a different brand than your usual. You'll understand eventually. And I'll see you tomorrow evening."

Before Barbara could react, Maggie strode through the kitchen door and was gone.

An hour later, Barbara tidied up the kitchen and ran herself a bath. She had always loved the huge tub in the master bathroom. It was deep enough to fully cover her body almost to her shoulders. "This is pretty silly," Barbara said out loud as she plugged in an old cassette player she had recovered from the back of her closet. But if it was important to Maggie, it was important to her, she realized. In two short days she had gone from incredulity and scorn to friendship. She rummaged in the back of the bathroom closet and found a new bar of soap, then pressed the cassette machine's play button and stepped into the steamy water.

Music filled the bathroom, music with a quiet yet pulsing beat and a soft, slightly mournful clarinet and a baritone saxophone. The sounds that filled the room felt like soft summer nights with the sky filled with stars. Barbara thought of couples in open-topped cars staring down at city lights from darkened lover's overlooks. She rolled a small towel and placed it at the back of her neck and stretched out. She sighed deeply and relaxed.

"Are you all relaxed?" a soft, sensuous man's voice asked as the music faded slightly. "That's very good." Barbara started to sit up. "No, don't move," the voice said. "Just lie back and relax. Let the music fill you, create dreams, fantasies. Let it evoke pictures of teenagers in parked cars."

How did that man know what she was thinking? Barbara wondered. The music swelled again and for several minutes the voice was silent. Then the music faded slightly and the voice returned. "I hope you're naked, lying in a tub of warm water. The naked female body is such a wonder. It's so beautiful."

Yeah, right, Barbara thought. For all he knows I'm a dog, a hundred pounds overweight with droopy boobs and three stomachs.

"Don't think like that. All female bodies are beautiful regardless of the way they actually look. Breasts are soft, firm, large or small. Nipples are chocolate brown or dark pink. Skin is deep ebony or almost transparent white. God, I love a woman's breasts. And your bellies are concave, with prominent hipbones or full and round. I love to feel the pulse in a woman's throat and know how it speeds up when she listens to me tell her how beautiful she is. Can you feel your pulse? Find it by stroking your throat. Go ahead. No one's watching."

Without really thinking, Barbara slid a wet finger up her neck and felt her pulsebeat.

"That's your life flowing throughout your body. You can feel it all over, in your wrist, in your foot, at your temple, in your groin. If I tell you that I want you imagine me touching your breasts, does your pulse speed up? I love that I can do that for you."

Barbara felt her pulse. No silly man's voice was going to make her pulse beat faster. But it did.

"I want you to make your hands all soapy. Please, for me. Feel the soap, so smooth and slippery. Rub your hands over the bar, touching it's contours. Close your eyes and just feel the soap as your hands caress it."

Barbara took the soap from the holder and rubbed it. She was strangely aware of the slick surface.

"Take the soap and make a rich lather, then slowly rub it on your throat. Feel the difference between the hard surface of the cake of soap and the soft, warm skin of your body. Move your hands around. Feel your jaw, the back of your neck. Now caress your cheeks. How smooth and soft they are through the lather. Keep your eyes closed and just feel. Feel rough and smooth spots, places that are warm and those that are cool. If you have fingernails, use them to scratch your shoulders, just lightly."

Barbara did, her eyes closed, her head resting against the towel on the rim of the tub.

"You need more lather so rub the soap again. Can you smell the perfume? Does your soap smell like flowers, or spice? Can you picture a field of summer blossoms or an oriental harem? Maybe lemons or blackberries. Inhale deeply. Fill your lungs with the scent and imagine."

As the music filled the room, Barbara breathed deeply and saw Parisian boudoir with perfume bottles on a mirrored vanity. She vaguely remembered her mother buying her this soap many years before. She lay there seeing the boudoir. A woman sat at the vanity putting on makeup. She was dressed in a filmy negligee, waiting for her lover. Barbara opened her eyes. Now why had she created that scene? Waiting for her lover indeed.

"I hope your eyes are still closed," the voice said softly. Barbara snapped her eyes shut. "I want you to feel other places on your body. Start with your breasts. Your soapy hands will feel so good on your soft flesh. I want you to use the pads of your fingers to stroke the flesh of your breasts, just around the outside. Press a bit and feel. Are your breasts full or small and tight? As I told you, I like them all. Can you feel your ribs or is there deep softness? Please. I can't be there to feel your skin so you must do it for me."

Tentatively Barbara sat up slightly so the tops of her breasts were above the waterline. She slid her soapy fingers over the crests then pressed her fingertips into the flesh. Deeply soft and pillowy, she thought.

"Find the areolas, just where the color changes, darkens. Open your eyes if you must, then close them again. Run one fingertip over the slight ridge there, all around. Keep swirling around that line. Can you feel your nipples tighten? No, not with your fingers, but feel it inside. Don't look, feel. Can you feel your nipples contract? Yes, I know they will."

They did.

"I wish I were there to touch your nipples. I would first swirl my fingers around the outside the way you are doing it. Then I wouldn't be able to resist sliding toward the tightened buds. I want to feel them but I can't, so you will have to do it for me. Touch. Squeeze. That's what I would do. I would squeeze those tight nipples. It's hard to feel it when you touch lightly so make yourself feel it. Do what you have to so that you know the touch of your fingers. Pinch, use your nails."

Barbara used her newly manicured nails to tweak the tips of her breasts. She felt it, tight, slightly painful yet very stimulating.

"I know you think this is strange and maybe you feel a bit guilty, but it's your body and you are entitled to touch it. It's God's creation and so beautiful. I know also that you're noticing that you're not just feeling your fingers touching your breasts. You are also starting to become aware of the flesh between your legs. You're feeling full, maybe getting wet, not from your bath but from your excitement."

Barbara was aware of her groin. This is ridiculous, she thought, yanking herself from her dreamy state. It's dirty.

"I know you feel that what you're doing isn't what nice girls are supposed to do, but that's nonsense. Feeling sexual and sensual is wonderful. It is what I would want you to be experiencing if I were there. Relax. You and I are alone. No one will know, or care, what you're doing. You are just making your body feel good. What is wrong with that?"

Nothing, Barbara thought, taking a deep breath. Nothing at all. He's right. It is my body and I can touch it. That's why it was designed to feel good.

"I know you want to touch the flesh between your legs and that's so good. I get so much pleasure out of knowing that I excite you. I know that the water covers the parts of you that you want to touch, but you must make your hands soapy and slippery anyway. Do it for me since I can't caress you myself. Rub the soap while I tell you what I'd like to be doing if I were there."

Barbara picked up the soap and rubbed, closing her eyes as she did so.

"If I were there with you I would cup your beautiful breasts in my hands and lick the water off the tips with my rough tongue. I would suckle and lick, and maybe nip the erect tip from time to time with my sharp teeth. Can you feel me? I hope so. Don't touch yourself just rub the soap and imagine my teeth and lips and tongue. Imagine what they are doing and how they make you feel. Are you getting tight between your legs? Do you want to touch? That hunger is what I want you to feel. Think of how my fingers would feel touching your ribs, your sides, your belly. If you're ticklish, I can touch you so it feels good, yet not make you laugh. I don't want you to giggle right now, although laughter is wonderful. Do you want me to touch you?"

The erotic music and the man's voice filled Barbara's ears, penetrating to her soul. Yes, she admitted, she did want him to touch her.

"I can't touch you, you know, and that makes me so sad. But you can touch all those places that I cannot. Rub your palm over your belly. Scratch the skin on your sides. Now the insides of your thighs. Rub, caress, stroke. It's your skin and it feels so good."

Barbara had never touched herself like this before and it was a bit embarrassing. But it felt good and she didn't really consider stopping.

"Move your fingers closer to the center of all that you need. You want to touch. Do you know how? Do you know what would feel good? Well, I do. It would feel good if you rubbed the wet, slippery place. Find that place and know the difference between the water and your own slippery juices. Feel that slick, slithery substance? Your body is making that to make it easier for me to penetrate you, but, of course, I can not. But you can.

"Have you ever wondered what you feel like inside? Under the water, make sure your fingers have no soap left on them. Then slide one into your passage. Touch the slick walls, rub all the places you can and find out which feels the best. I would learn that if I were there. I would know when you moan or purr, when your hips move to take me in more deeply, when you become wetter and more slippery. I would know the secrets of your pleasure, and you know them now too. Run your fingers over the outside folds. Use the other hand if you like the feel of that finger inside you."

Barbara did have one finger inside her channel, in a place she had never touched before. It felt very good and she wanted more. She used the middle finger of her other hand to rub the deep crevices, moving from side to side, enjoying her own flesh.

"Have you found your clit? I would have by now. I would have rubbed up and down both sides, feeling the tight nub swell and reach for me. I would have put one finger on either side and rubbed. Oh that does feel good, doesn't it. I can almost see your back arch, your eyes close and your mouth open. Put a second finger inside your body to fill it up, and a third if that feels good. Rub your clit and all the places that feel as good."

Barbara was stroking her body, marveling at all the spots that gave her pleasure.

"If I were there I would use my mouth now. No, it's not a bad thing. It's a beautiful experience. I would lick your clit, flick my tongue over the end, then wrap my lips around it and draw it into my mouth. Just a slight vacuum to suck it in and hold it while my tongue rubs the surface. Just don't stop what you're doing while I lick you.'

Barbara filled her pussy with her fingers and rubbed her clit, feeling the pressure build in her belly. This was dirty, but so good. She didn't want to stop, and she didn't. The words and the music and the rubbing and the fullness inside all drove her higher. She felt something build deep in her belly, then suddenly waves of ectatic pleasure spasmed through her.

"Oh yes, my wonderful girl," the voice said. "Make it feel so good."

Barbara continued as the clenching subsided.

"I will not talk any more, but leave you to the music and to your pleasure," the voice said. "Until the next time."

"Oh," Barbara said, panting. "Oh."

© Copyright 1997 by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

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