Shadow Girl by Mael d'Armor Read Free Book Online

in her head.
    â€˜Good, Sandra. Very good. Now breathe in and fall back into the default posture. Breathe out. Spine up. Good. Concentrate on your diaphragm. On the flow. Excellent.’
    After a few minutes metronomed by soft-spoken instructions, Yaouen interrupts the routine.
    â€˜In order to help you better visualise the target sound, I shall place a headband over your eyes. Please do not be alarmed, there is nothing to fear. Blocking your sight will enhance your hearing. This is standard procedure, an intrinsic part of my methodology.’
    Sandra tries to dispel the hot mist wafting through her mind.
    Shouldn’t she object? Should she allow this perfect stranger to blindfold her? But his voice is so smooth, and so refreshingly cool, and so reassuring. And she can end all this at the drop of a hat, can’t she? Though she is not wearing one but . . . never mind. She is still in charge. And she can get this right. She can do it, she knows.
    Her pride gets the last word.
    She lets him position the headband he has pulled out of a pocket. The cloth is soft against her lashes. His fingers brush against her ears and she almost titters. The sudden loss of sight seems to tighten the sauna grip.
    â€˜Another sweet if you’ll permit. I can feel the tension ebbing away. This is very good. Very good, Sandra.’
    Ebbing away? She cannot, in truth, feel anything much ebbing. Quite the reverse. In spite of all her yogic efforts, the hot tide inside her has reached an equinox high.
    But her tunnel focus ties her to the task. Her tunnel focus, and something else besides. Something to do with that suave, captivating voice. With those eyes she can picture in her mind, pleading with her, pulling on her.
    Before she can comment, another chocolate has slipped past her lips and this time, she gets a slight taste of his thumb and finger. Spicy, slightly musky, and far from unpleasant. If she wasn’t so damn hot, she would find this a very appealing bonus to the cocoa.
    â€˜Now repeat after me,’ intones Yaouen. ‘R-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r!’
    She focuses, tries to vibrate her ovulation or whatever that thing is called.
    â€˜Whrrrriiii!’
    Oh no! She could cry in frustration!
    Then she feels it. A slap on her backside. It takes her completely by surprise.
    â€˜Not good,’ disapproves her tutor.
    She would normally be outraged — she should be outraged — but somehow the heat, the persuasiveness of his voice, the memory of those enigmatic eyes have numbed and twisted her response.
    Instead, more blood rushes to her face and a weird kind of shame overcomes her. Can she have deserved this? Perhaps she did, for he must know what he is doing. That cool, confident voice must know what it is doing. She must have brought this on herself. She must do better then. Try harder. Yes, she must try harder.
    Still, she issues a half-hearted protest.
    â€˜Weren’t you supposed to slap my hand?’
    â€˜I was,’ comes the reply, ‘but now I can’t, since you’re on your knees. Besides, we have to increase the challenge, don’t you agree? To boost your motivation.’
    Challenge, motivation. She can relate to those words. They’ve sustained her for years. I’ll get this right, I’ll get this right , she tells herself.
    Tiny pearls of sweat have appeared on her skin. Glossing her forehead, lining her upper lip.
    God. She is so hot, and not a little woozy. The blood in her face has begun to pulsate.
    â€˜Breathe in, breathe out, focus,’ hums Yaouen’s voice.
    â€˜R-r-r-r-r-r . . . R-r-r-r-r-r . . .’ she tries again, diffidently, then with greater vigour. Yes, yes, she’s got it! ‘R-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r!’
    â€˜Bravo!’ cheers his voice, nurturing her, caressing her almost. ‘This is a beautiful purr!’
    She is filled by a strange elation. All of a sudden, she has an acute wish to please him. She is so eager to. Yes,