Post by ktotheb on Jul 5, 2017 3:13:01 GMT
OOC NOTE: Fucked up my word count for the RP "Last True Thraotcutter", this is the CD cut from it.
“No more worries, then” I say to the physiologist - Cassiopeia, I think her name is - a smirk tugging at my face as she quirks an eyebrow at me.
“No, everything checks out, you’re pectoral healed up quite nicely, go ahead and get dressed and I’ll just finalize the statement for your employer” With that she turns away from the massage table and ventures over to her desk, giving me the privacy to put on my shirt which always seems so odd to me, she’d just had her hands all over a my torso… a torso that both she and I knew had been cleared to go some five weeks ago.
I come to a stand myself, scratching my belly just about the waistline of my jeans before stretching my back and feeling several satisfying pops at the motion. Cassiopeia… actually her name might be Cassidy, is hunched over her desk, fingers gliding through some insurance forms, her free hand playing with a ballpoint pen. Fidgeting nervously.
This was not the same woman who wore the calm, easy demeanor I encountered when I’d first walked through her door… she was expecting something.
I have to suppress a chuckle, I thought Cassidy - Catherine? Damn - and I had gotten well past these games. Still though, if it let her save face to act like I was the one seducing her, then what’s the harm?
I leave my shirt a tidy heap on the chair I’d set it on at the beginning of my appointment and casually walk slowly across her office, eyes taking stock of the curvaceous form in front of me.
On a second thought, maybe the games were just something she enjoyed.
Stopping just short of her personal bubble, I loop my thumbs through the belt loops on my jeans and let out a slow whistle that I see gives her fidgeting hand a slight pause and cause her shoulders to tense. Her outfit which when I’d first started to come to physio had been strictly unflattering sweatpants and old band t-shirts had now been largely replaced by sports bras and LuLu Lemon shorts, I appreciated the gesture, and the flush of her oft-exposed skin told me she more than appreciated the attention.
“So, this is our last session hermosa”
She almost shivers but reigns it in admirably. I’m pretty sure my grin looks akin to a shark at her reaction. Latin lingo usually had that effect if you knew how to use it to their advantage.
“At least until you get injured again… Mister Garcia”
At that MY eyebrow quirks. That’s right… she actually had my personal information this whole time. I almost laugh as I close the gap between us, settling my hands on her hips I can practically feel her melt at my touch, she drops the pen and paperwork and leans her body back against mine, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her right arm curls around the back of my head lazily and I get an ample view down her top… and the nameplate on her desk.
T. Addison
Well damn, I’m way off.
“Aye Señorita, you mustn’t wish an injury on me, I’m just getting back on my feet, remember?” At that I bring my lips close to her ear and can’t help the slight chuckle that leaves my throat when even I can feel her knees weaken at the feel of my breath.
“Well…” she gets out huskily as she turns around in my arms to face me, eyes wide and doe enough to let me comb my hair in my reflection from them, “... if that does happen, be sure to come back and I’ll… take care of you again”
My grin goes wider as she leans in to kiss me.
Not a goddamn chance, Mamacita
“Sure thing, Mamacita”
Not when I can literally feel the diamonds on the wedding ring you forgot to take off this time digging into the back of my neck.
“... call me Tanya” She moans as everything below her waist quickly becomes visible before I lift her up onto her own desk, her arms sweeping out in a frenzy to brush aside her stationary and that oh-so important insurance form I hadn’t let her complete.
I laugh as I lift her bra over her head, her kisses and touches desperate and wanton before I gaze down at her
“Oh si, eso es correcto ... Tanya”
The feel of her thighs wrapping around my hips and pulling me in even closer is a good sign that Misses Addison was less adept at Español than I was.
-Detroit, Michigan, June 30th, 2017-
“No more worries, then” I say to the physiologist - Cassiopeia, I think her name is - a smirk tugging at my face as she quirks an eyebrow at me.
“No, everything checks out, you’re pectoral healed up quite nicely, go ahead and get dressed and I’ll just finalize the statement for your employer” With that she turns away from the massage table and ventures over to her desk, giving me the privacy to put on my shirt which always seems so odd to me, she’d just had her hands all over a my torso… a torso that both she and I knew had been cleared to go some five weeks ago.
I come to a stand myself, scratching my belly just about the waistline of my jeans before stretching my back and feeling several satisfying pops at the motion. Cassiopeia… actually her name might be Cassidy, is hunched over her desk, fingers gliding through some insurance forms, her free hand playing with a ballpoint pen. Fidgeting nervously.
This was not the same woman who wore the calm, easy demeanor I encountered when I’d first walked through her door… she was expecting something.
I have to suppress a chuckle, I thought Cassidy - Catherine? Damn - and I had gotten well past these games. Still though, if it let her save face to act like I was the one seducing her, then what’s the harm?
I leave my shirt a tidy heap on the chair I’d set it on at the beginning of my appointment and casually walk slowly across her office, eyes taking stock of the curvaceous form in front of me.
On a second thought, maybe the games were just something she enjoyed.
Stopping just short of her personal bubble, I loop my thumbs through the belt loops on my jeans and let out a slow whistle that I see gives her fidgeting hand a slight pause and cause her shoulders to tense. Her outfit which when I’d first started to come to physio had been strictly unflattering sweatpants and old band t-shirts had now been largely replaced by sports bras and LuLu Lemon shorts, I appreciated the gesture, and the flush of her oft-exposed skin told me she more than appreciated the attention.
“So, this is our last session hermosa”
She almost shivers but reigns it in admirably. I’m pretty sure my grin looks akin to a shark at her reaction. Latin lingo usually had that effect if you knew how to use it to their advantage.
“At least until you get injured again… Mister Garcia”
At that MY eyebrow quirks. That’s right… she actually had my personal information this whole time. I almost laugh as I close the gap between us, settling my hands on her hips I can practically feel her melt at my touch, she drops the pen and paperwork and leans her body back against mine, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her right arm curls around the back of my head lazily and I get an ample view down her top… and the nameplate on her desk.
T. Addison
Well damn, I’m way off.
“Aye Señorita, you mustn’t wish an injury on me, I’m just getting back on my feet, remember?” At that I bring my lips close to her ear and can’t help the slight chuckle that leaves my throat when even I can feel her knees weaken at the feel of my breath.
“Well…” she gets out huskily as she turns around in my arms to face me, eyes wide and doe enough to let me comb my hair in my reflection from them, “... if that does happen, be sure to come back and I’ll… take care of you again”
My grin goes wider as she leans in to kiss me.
Not a goddamn chance, Mamacita
“Sure thing, Mamacita”
Not when I can literally feel the diamonds on the wedding ring you forgot to take off this time digging into the back of my neck.
“... call me Tanya” She moans as everything below her waist quickly becomes visible before I lift her up onto her own desk, her arms sweeping out in a frenzy to brush aside her stationary and that oh-so important insurance form I hadn’t let her complete.
I laugh as I lift her bra over her head, her kisses and touches desperate and wanton before I gaze down at her
“Oh si, eso es correcto ... Tanya”
The feel of her thighs wrapping around my hips and pulling me in even closer is a good sign that Misses Addison was less adept at Español than I was.