Baby Come Back(17)

“Actually Tristan, it was pretty routine and boring. I was raised Catholic; attended parochial schools. I have an older brother, Peter. He was two years ahead of me in school. He was very athletic and popular. I was more of a wallflower. That’s about it.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I imagine you have some fairly colorful stories to tell.”

“Well I don’t,” I snapped, instantly regretting my tone. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I didn’t mean to snap. I just really didn’t enjoy high school.”

“Well who did, I suppose? That’s alright, babe. We can talk about something else.”

(Yes, please!)

Tristan and I enjoyed the rest of our dinner. I couldn’t shake the image of Amber from my mind; the intensity of her gaze on Tristan. He had seemed oblivious to it. Right about now I was wishing that I wasn’t estranged from Tylar. This was the kind of stuff a BFF could help with.

Once home, Tristan hit the shower. I gathered the appropriate props for our room. I had an idea brewing that might help. I lit some aromatherapy candles placing them around the bed. I switched on the flat screen and located a music channel that was playing relaxation mood sounds. I changed into a silk nightgown and dimmed the lighting. I rummaged through my purse, locating my pen size flashlight and tucked it underneath the folded quilt at the foot of the bed. There. Tristan was going to get a full body massage and I was going to conduct a covert birthmark search in the process.

Tristan emerged from the bathroom with a bath towel tucked around his hips. He immediately noticed the ambience I had incorporated into our room.

“What’s this?”

“This is my gift to you this evening, Tristan. I am giving you a full body massage, with a soothing ointment that is guaranteed to blow your mind.”

“Well, I like the ‘blow’ part,” he teased.

“We’ll save that for later. Come on; let’s start with your back since we know where this will end up later.”

Tristan obliged by dropping his towel and stretching out on the bed on his stomach. He crossed his arms in front of him, resting his head on them. I straddled him and started at his shoulders. I poured a little bit of oil on his upper back and started with firm, circular motions on each of his shoulders. He immediately relaxed, moaning in pleasure as I worked my way southward.

I continued the massaging between his shoulder blades, then his lower back, scooting myself back so that I could make my way to his nice, tight ass. I lifted myself from him and knelt at his side so that my view could be unobstructed when inspecting his butt. He was fairly relaxed almost dozing by this time.

I moved my massaging to his buttocks now. I was glad that I had tucked the small flashlight under the quilt. The dim lighting was not revealing anything obvious at this point. I had kind of figured that since I had seen Tristan’s naked tush hundreds of times and couldn’t recall a birthmark, it was not going to be real obvious. I was so hoping it wasn’t there.

I massaged his left cheek while my right hand dug beneath the quilt, feeling for the pen light. I found it and flipped it on with my right hand. I continued massaging his cheek with one hand while I focused the tiny light on his butt. His left cheek had been thoroughly examined. All clear. No devils’ fork.

“What happened to both hands, Gina?”

(Oh shit! He noticed the one hand massage!)

“You aren’t massaging yourself with your right hand are you?”

“Ha ha, Tristan. You wish.”

I stuck the pen light between my teeth and put my right hand back on his ass so he wouldn’t turn over and see what I was doing.

“Much better,” he sighed, relaxing once again. I continued to rub and knead his cheeks, lowering my face to get the light directed to the right places. His right cheek looked to be free of birth marks as well. I massaged down under the cheek, raising it up with my hands and there it was. Fuck! On the underside of his right cheek was a small, brownish flat birthmark which was indeed shaped like a three-pronged devils’ fork. Shit!

I hadn’t realized that I had stopped rubbing him to focus on the birthmark until I heard his voice.

“What the hell are you looking for, Gina? I promise I thoroughly washed my ass in the shower.”

(Oh shit!)

I dropped the pen light from my mouth and looked up to where I saw his head turned around watching me. How in the hell was I going to explain this? Anything other than the truth was going to sound like I had obvious issues. If I told him the truth, then it would appear as if I thought he had lied to me.

“I know that, Tristan,” I laughed, killing time. “I guess I was just curious about whether men ever got cellulite or not.”

He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing me suspiciously. He debated as to whether or not I was being honest with him. I was certain he couldn’t find any plausible reason that I would be lying about something so ridiculous.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do I have cellulite on my ass?”

“Nope, you’re good,” I said, giving him a slap on his butt cheek. “You do have an interesting birthmark under your right cheek though. It’s shaped like a devil’s fork. Did you know that?”

“That’s news to me,” he replied, shaking his head. “Of course I will have to take your word for it since I’m unable to swivel my head 180 degrees and maneuver it down through my legs in order to verify. I’m sure you and my mother are the only ones privy to that juicy little tidbit.”