They had almost finished the second season of Fleabag, she was sure Netflix marathon's with Harry but all others to shamed in length and loveliness. The show was amazing until it felt like someone was looking at her with no clothes on for the first time. As such, Elise had tapped out on episode 4, not because she did not need to see what happened. Fleabag had just been told to "kneel" and after the day Elise had had, the time in the gym, and with the shower head, and near Harry on the couch, she absolutely had to go to bed, or she'd be inviting herself into his.

"I think I'm done for." She kept her eyes half lidded to make it believable. She had a feeling the show needed to be turned off right now or she was gonna be out of control. This had been a trying day. Trying to her ability to control herself.

"Um, okay. I mean, there are only a few episodes left, but it is really late." He screwed up his face, but she closed her eyes before he could see her watching him. Things were so tense between them since their workout.

Except, he didn't seem tense at all, he was all gray sweat pants and feet in her lap and feeding her wine and making her take nibbles of whatever snacks he'd dug out of the cupboard.

And she had to close her eyes, because after his last trip to the kitchen he had come back and lay his dreamy set of curls into her lap with a sigh. Hot priest and Fleabag were kissing now and Elsie could only think of escaping.  She was thankful at her blessed physiology for needing to pee as well.

"Do you need a wee, you're wiggling a lot? I can pause it or rewind a bit so we can finish the episode." She had her eyes open now, she could feel him watching her.

"Well, you are like pressing on my bladder with your huge head, so...." he lifted up and she made a show of sighing in relief. "And I'm not even sure I can finish this episode. I think you killed me with that workout." In more ways than one. "I want to sleep for the rest of quarantine."

"Um, no, then I would be lonely and bored." Harry was shaking his shaggy head. He probably needed a haircut, the sides were grown out messily. She wanted to touch it, clutch it.

He sat up. "Ah, that's what you were really shopping for at Whole Foods, a quarantine buddy."

"You have me figured out, Elise." Wow! Her name on those lips was flattening. It at least made her want to be horizontal. He had said her name before, the first day, but, Jesus, she needed to go to bed. She looked down and he was looking up at her. This day had just been too much.

She flicked his ear, "up, I'm going to the bathroom and then bed."

He groaned but got himself off her lap and she wondered if when she got up there would be an imprint where he had been. "Why do American's call it that. You need the toilet, yes?"

She made a face.

"And they make that face about the world toilet, I've noticed."

"It's just not nice, like you shouldn't talk about the actual toilet I guess. It's not a great euphemism, though." She shrugged.

"Yeah that makes sense." He leaned in and gave her a half hug and a kiss on her cheek that burned through his murmured "good night, sweet dreams." It disturbed her hair, because it was more of an exhale than an actual word.

There was no red mark or imprint, on her thighs or cheek. She checked. That part of her anatomy was marked though. "Sweet dreams." She wondered if she could die of frustration. She thought she might be in the coronavirus clear, neither of them had any symptoms yet. Maybe tomorrow she'd wake with a fever. She felt feverish as she rolled around and tried to chase sleep. The heat wasn't in her head though.

She gutted it out and the last time she saw the clock, it was only two.

The sun was weak but willing as it came in through her windows the next morning. Her mouth felt cottony and she'd forgotten to bring up a water bottle.

Elise didn't feel like getting clothes on, she needed a gallon of water asap. And then coffee, which was sort of counter productive, but necessary.

She hoped she didn't run into Harry. Though, He usually made her coffee, which made her smile a moment on the way downstairs. She was capable of doing it alone, and her sheer sleep tank and small shorts meant she wanted to. Or, the tiny devil on her shoulder wanted to get caught with the bottoms of her cheeks extending below her shorts while she reached up for the mugs.

She'd make her own coffee and hope to get caught.

The water rivulets split and ran down her chin and she realized that very cold water when you're very thirsty was one of life's great simple pleasures.

As was hot coffee cups between your hands in the chill of morning. She decided, since there was no sign of Harry, to go to the back door and look out on his garden while she had her cuppa caffeine, maybe she would even get brave enough to step outside.

Elise never made it that far. She passed the hallway where Harry's music room was and found him by ear before she had sight of him. She couldn't deny herself the sight of him.

But she should have. Maybe should have stayed up under the covers and hoped Harry never came to ferret her out. Because then she wouldn't be drowning in her attraction. She was already wading in it, surely, treading the water of it last night with his head in her lap and his green eyes on her.

Her head just went under the water, she was wet entirely.

Because there, wet himself from the shower, in only a towel with a guitar over a thigh and a song on his lips, was her quarantine buddy.

She knew her face was anything but attractive, except maybe to bats looking for a cave.

He was toying with some chords, and singing softly, puzzling through words and occasionally leaning down, his stomach flexing- birdcage singing, laurels fluttering- to jot something down on the stool his notebook was atop and his guitar leg was propped up on.

She wasn't not sure how long she creeped on him, she finally must have closed her mouth to escape the drool about to run down her chin. The swallow must have been a gulp, because he looked up then.

Did stares weigh anything, or was it their consequences that were heavy?

It took a minute before they found eye contact. She'd already had a gander at his nearly naked form, but his gaze definitely caught on her face only infinitesimally before cascading down over the white tank and glorified boy shorts she slept in. There were a few places it lingered, she could tell because they heated more than the places his look just lighted over. Some tightened. He gulped again when he got to her eyes; she watched his Adam's apple bob.

She should just go back to bed.

Maybe they should go to bed?

Could she suggest such a thing? No, she had no idea if she was imagining his gaze, or the thick air they created in the gym full of pheromones and hormones, for that matter. She hadn't dated a ton. One long term high school boyfriend that really was inevitable, he was her childhood sweetheart, was Ryan. Them being together was expected, so they were. They drifted apart when he went off to college. She'd stayed local.

That was inevitable too. Like the silly hookups at parties and the couple of dates she had been set up on over the last couple years. And the one she avoided thinking about. Little had come of any of them except maybe she learned better how she felt when she liked someone. Elise was definitely feeling that now.

The lessons she'd missed, from the presumed boyfriend, drunken fumbles, bad first dates, and bad mistakes was how to know when it was mutual. How did you know when someone wanted you too, liked you back for real?

How did you know when it was different, better?

And how complicated did their situation make it? It's not like there was anybody else around. She was the only woman he'd seen in days, and vice versa.

Jesus, this was exhausting.

"Morning." He croaked after his swallow. "Sleep well?" Came out where she felt it in her toes.

She nodded. Tried for an encouraging smile and took another look at his face. The green eyes were as much a mine field as mapping his tattoos though.

"Sorry I didn't make you coffee. You were so tired last night I didn't want to wake you, again." Cheeky grin, was it called that because of the way someone's cheeks looked when they gave you one? She thought the word particularly applied to people with dimples. He had enough to share, and he did throw them around. She'd always wanted dimples, prominent ones, not the slight depression people searching for compliment fodder fell on.

"You don't have to make me coffee, Harry." She shook her head a little.

"I know, but I'm making myself some, it's no bother and just seems polite." He shrugged and his towel slipped with the motion.

It was kind of impressive how long it had hung on, but the motion caught her eye and there were shapes beneath it that made her miss geometry.

She looked up frantically and hoped he didn't notice her considering his angles and bulges.

His buckled cheeks were pink, she had no idea if it was because he was uncomfortable or just a little embarrassed. He'd caught it, and the guitar was good camouflage, sadly. "I guess I should probably go get some clothes on."

"Yeah me too. Can't wear pajamas all day." She gave an awkward chuckle.

"Well, I mean, you could." He eyed her and let her see. "Actually," his face brightened like a light bulb lit inside his brain. "Don't put on clothes."

"What?" She did not follow him around whatever bend he'd taken, though maybe she had already thought of it. The couch was where he bent her over in last night's imagined romp.

"I'll bring you a robe. I know what we should do today." He hurried out of the room with an excited face lit up with dimples and designs.

And that was how she found herself in a large fluffy robe, reclined on an overstuffed chair with a face mask on.

The knock at the doorframe came quickly after his bright idea and he'd found a robe, regrettably, it was funny how everyone still considered that naked, when it was usually more coverage than most of the outfits people wore in the current era. It was certainly more than she still had on. He noticed, but had a robe for her too.  "Put this on. Meet me in the living room in 10 minutes."

"What are we doing?" Elise shouted after his jaunt jog down the stairs.

He turned around at the bottom of the stairs and looked like a honeymooner full of optimism and ease after a good wedding night. He wanted to keep the surprise but could not contain himself! "Spa day!" His eyebrows camera flashed.

She couldn't help but grin.

He'd had tea, herbal tea which she teased him for being a bad Englishman over, steeping on the kitchen island when she came out.

"Grab your detox tea, madam." He instructed. He looked so boyish with his play acting, role playing? Whatever it was, he was giddy. "Alright, have a lay down on the sofa or get cozy wherever, sound bath time!"

"What is a sound bath?" Elise asked, puzzled.

"Aren't you supposed to be American?" He nudged her with his shoulder and laughed when she glared at him for making tea dribble over her hand. "They're all the rage."

"Maybe in LA or something, but where I come from, we take water baths, sun bathe maybe , but not sound baths. Sounds hippy."

"It is!" He cozies himself one a chaise. "It's lovely."

She went along with the sound bath. And it was very relaxing, the face mask he produced when she set down a mostly empty tea cup was luxuriant, and he'd helped her put it on.

He'd touched her face smoothly and apprasingly. She wasn't sure if he approved of her face of his work.

She was going to count the money she experience as wonderful, though it did distract her zen. Luckily for relaxing, it had only resulted in one too long moment of eye contact. He'd been unfolding the moist cloth, and she'd had the time to look at his eyes: the color, the shape, the way his lashes were lighter at their base. Elise couldn't help but notice when he was so close and most of his face was obscured otherwise l. He had pretty amazing eyes. He caught her staring at the end, but she supposed she had the opposite of plausible deniability, inevitable exposure. Where else was she supposed to look besides at him? Just keep her eyes closed?

She'd miss him then.

"Alright," Harry said after he took long moments at her temples. She was sure he noticed her shiver when he worked the excess of the mask over her neck. He swallowed. "Think we are all ready to relax." That was necessary but unlikely.

Elise lay on the couch, since he seemed to have made his decision in favor of the chaise. She made sure her head was facing the other way, she needed a break from his face.

They lay around long enough for her to be ready to read, or sleep, maybe even workout again. He still seemed like he was buoyed by the sounds. She'd cut eyes to check a couple times.

"What are you doing?" She giggled out when her eyes sidled over to check on him and found a mirror of what she expected to be on her face.

"Um," he blushed a bit and she remembered the pics of him as a little bit all over the internet, she could see this expression on his childhood face. He looked like he'd gotten into mummy's nail polish and written on his wall. But then he just laughed. And her voice joined his and the giggles made their face masks sag. When his got in his mouth and he made a show of spitting it out, tearing it off like he was offended, the laughing fit redoubled.

She laughed her mask off when Harry giggled himself onto the floor.

"Oh my god! Did you hurt your ass?"

"No, just my funny bone!" And suddenly even that stinker was hilarious. They may have reached the crazy stage of quarantine, and from the news, it looked like they had more coming to them, this time with plenty of long distance company.

What would be funny when they got out? Her thinking Harry was flirting with her yesterday? Him being turned on by her, ever, even in her imagination?

Ok, let's not go there, Elise called out that thought.

"Ok, the sound bath made us weirder than quarantine." She gulped in air and out her last laughs.  "We should do something else! Is spa day over?" She was done with sound baths and face masks.

"No!" Harry's second chin showed up. "We haven't even painted our nails!" He flashed his hands and they were very chipped. He was up and pulling her to his bathroom a minute later. His bed looked really lovely. And distracting and daydreamy. Unmade. Focus. "Pick a color!" He said and opened a cabinet that had a stacked organizer on the door.

"You have so many!" He had to have 5 shades of light blue, and the pinks were varied.

"I went a bit crazy for a while. I had people give me a lot of samples when I started wearing it all the time. I experimented." She quirked a brow. "Lots of time in hotel rooms?" He shrugged. He got on the floor on his knees too, "are you doing the  same color on your hands and feet? Or alternate! Oh! I can do little flowers!" He blinked at her, his breath was full of coffee and the gum he'd popped in when they passed through the kitchen.

"Um," she grabbed a pink and a blue without really looking. "I'll alternate."

He gave her a funny look. But grabbed a sunny yellow and a deep blue. She'd seen him in shirts this color twice. He must be favoring it at the moment.

"Right, so do you wanna do me first? Or me do you?" He was grinning.

"What?" She couldn't help where her mind went, the gutter was its home lately. And he knew it, the innuendo he dropped. His face was too expectant otherwise.

"You can do me then, you are welcome!" She chorused.

He had an amazing laugh. Lots of flavors, the one, like popped bubblegum was her favorite.

"Yes madam, whatever you desire," Jesus, he bowed too, and looked up through his lashes. She was glad her curling toes were still in her house boots. That would be a tell. She pressed her hands into her thighs to keep from rubbing any of them together.

"Well then get to it!" That wasn't breathy! Just sassy! She assured herself, and she kicked off a shoe and pressed back and down on his shoulder so he'd go to his knees. She meant it playfully.

He exhaled and didn't look up while he got the polish from her hand, opened his hand for her to drop them into, rather than just take them from her open fingers.

"I'm going to put this one," he motioned with the pink. "On your big toes?" His eyebrows punctuated the sentence.

Elise nodded, she still didn't trust her voice. The position was...

He was careful, and held her foot gently with long fingers, his thumb on her instep and pinky on the blade of the foot.

They took turns, and when he was finishing the last top coat on her last set of toes, he ran the knuckle of his thumb into her instep to draw a moan from her.

"Sorry!" She tried to laugh it off, she would never look at a nail salon the same again. That was erotic. Like it was intimate to hold his hand and blow over his nails, kneel at his feet and focus on a job, watch him hold her feet gentle as an egg, and lick and bite his lips while he worked.

She was sorry when it was over. "That was nice."

"No worries." He grinned "Actually, I think I have some idea of what we should do next." His smirk was full of sharp edges. "Meet me downstairs, keep your robe on." And he was gone. "And just your robe." He called back.

What the hell was he planning? She was keeping her boy shorts on, thank you very much. She took off the tank though The big fluffy robe had been plenty of covering Elise had decided earlier.

When she made it downstairs, she was wondering if he was planning a sacrifice or a seduction. There were lots of very deluxe candles going, and she wanted a cinnamon bun from the mall suddenly. Weird olfactory associations surfacing.

"Ah!" He smiled and he'd traded in his own robe for black joggers and a slim black t shirt. Elise really liked the fit on the shirt. "Welcome to The Styles Spa! Do you have any injuries or areas of concern?"

He was really going for this. She'd only had one massage before, but she vaguely remembered the spiel. Her cousin was getting married, and it had been a bonding activity, a weird silent one.

This was very weird, and she was sure she was in trouble, and she would feel very bonded to Harry after this, like she wanted to adhere to him after he spent an hour touching her skin. Was there a way around this?

"How come I get to go first?" She stalled.

"You're the guest!" He countered and smiled.

"I'm a guest? Captive is a better word." She quirked a brow.

"Very deluxe accommodation at this lock up. Massages and face masks—"

"Oh my!" Fell out of her mouth and they both giggled. Laughing with him was a favorite.

"Alright Dorothy, I'll step out and you undress and get under the sheet. I'll knock to make sure you are covered." He nodded to assure her and stepped out.

She had two choices, flight or submit. She was making an excellent job of freezing.

The robe was off her shoulders before the decision was conscious.

He was surprisingly good at this. Her shoulders were flush with the table by the time he moved down her back. He had big hands, and they were stronger than she would have guessed given their elegance. Elise had had to close her eyes when he was rubbing her shoulders, she could see the cross tattoo out of the corner of her eye and she had already indulged a similar image, only it was of his large hand over her breast while she sat in his lap, then in her periphery over her neck. It was a very short hop, skip, and jump to thinking of that hand slipping down between the v of her thighs and covering her mons. Only seeing the cross flex while his finger movements were exposed. She focused on her breathing and was thankful she didn't have a big stupid appendage to give away her arousal.

"You ok?" He asked while unwrapping a leg. Oh god! He was gonna touch the back of her thigh again. More of it, intentionally and thoroughly. Thank god she had no dick.

"Mmmm-hmmmm." It was kind of a moan.

"Your breathing just changed a bit. Like more rapid. Did it hurt?" His voice said through a smile.

Ok, maybe she didn't need a penis to give her away.

"I'm fine, I just have a lot of tension in my shoulders."

"And in your thighs apparently. Let me see if I can work that out." She would have rolled her eyes, not that he'd see, but her earlier prediction about this experience was coming true and she was biting her lip to keep from moaning.

He wouldn't notice if her shorts were wet through, right? Harry's hand wouldn't get that high, right?

"Relax and let go?" Her eyes popped open at his statement. "Take nice deep breaths."

She played along.

"No, like this!" He picked up her palm and put it in the hollow between his pecs. Elise could feel the top of the ridges of his abs too. He was counting she realized when he was starting back at one.

She was holding her breath.

"Like this!" He breathed in counting to 3, "hold it!" 1-2-3, "now release for 4." And he counted down.

They did it a few more times, and she may have relaxed if they weren't gazing at each other.

She was able to finish the massage though, somehow. Maybe because she didn't want his hands to come off her. She had even finally relaxed and stopped squirming, until he got to her hands. The lace of his fingers when he stretched her knuckles and his knuckle in the middle of her palm were connected all over her body. When knew that was a thing: hands?

They were tingling something fierce for moments, after he had moved on, it got worse though. When he rubbed the back of her neck and moved her hair. Really, he pulled her hair and she was so thankful when his words after the massage were, "You go take a shower. If you feel up for it later you can massage me. If you want, just go relax."

She was relaxed and aroused and Elise was absolutely not going to touch him. She could not massage him, or she'd shame every massage therapist ever and offer months of happy endings.

She tried to smile, despite her lip between her teeth, he turned around and she quietly slipped the fluffy cotton robe over her oiled shoulders and lit out like the fire in her veins was on her heels.

She didn't look back until she got to the top of the stairs.

He was still standing by the massage table. She'd think his having it was weird, if he wasn't so rich. Harry's large hand was still slick with oil, and it rested where the head of her body had just been. It stretched to the ends of his elegant fingers. Then he clenched his fists before shaking it. She couldn't think too much about his hands, but while she showered while taking herself apart, the pleased smile on his face was hotter in her mind than the water on her skin.

If he looked that happy after giving?

How happy would he be to receive.