Going Dutch – Chap 6: Edge by rowingbigboy..,
We hold hands as we walk, before Saskia pulls herself free so that he can wrap her whole arm around my body. She looks up, connecting with me not just with her eyes or her body, but also with her heart and soul. In an intense and intimate moment. She stops walking, turns to face me, and wraps me up. Her six-pack is pressed against mine, her hard nipples poke into my body.
We remain locked in that position for some time, our lips millimetres from each other, breathing each other in, watching each other intensely. Saskia is a multi-faceted character, on the one hand an incredibly gifted rower, on the other a real social lite. But then also comfortable in her own company, or with me when we are together. She’s also frighteningly smart and has an easy self-confidence that comes from perpetually winning at life. Not that she is arrogant. On the contrary whilst she is gregarious, she’s also humble and doesn’t big herself up by putting others down. Rather she wins people over by her infectious enthusiasm and beauty.
It was only after we’d been dating for a year that I found out that she’s the only daughter of very wealthy, well-connected parents who mingle with the crème de la crème of Dutch society. Think about links to royalty or a brewing empire and that’s where Saskia’s roots lie. She likes me because when I met her, I took her at face value. Her surname immediately gives away her aristocratic roots to those in the know, but as a foreigner I wasn’t aware of her grandiose upbringing.
Looking back, there were clearly some clues to who she was; most students don’t live in 200m2 loft apartments in the historic centre of Amsterdam, for example. Technically she was telling me the truth when she told me she was house-sitting. But the reality, I later found out, was that the whole building and not just the apartment was owned by the family business.
I also remember when the women’s boat needed repair work after a crash. In elite rowing, what would normally happen is that the repaired boat would be sold on since repairs weaken the boat and slow it down. But the club didn’t have money for this, so the women were expected to continue to use that boat. A week after the crash money was pledged from a large corporate sponsor for a new boat for the elite women’s crew, and when it arrived it had the sponsor’s name on it; a large brewing company.
When I asked Saskia about her parents, she was always a bit vague, saying that they lived in another part of Amsterdam. All of that changed one Saturday morning. We had been out rowing and were cycling back from the boat house with pangs of hunger. We stopped at “Holtkamp” on the way home – an excellent and well-known patisserie a couple of minutes cycle from the apartment. We were deciding what to have when a person I later found out was Saskia’s mother walked into the shop.
Saskia’s mum Lotte was the spit of her daughter. She had aged, clearly, but then in the same way that a fine wine does; the youthful exuberance had been replaced by something richer and smoother. We were bent over, peering into the glass display cabinets when she saw us. She yelled “Saskia!” at the top of her voice.
Saskia smiled, and kissed her but in a way that appeared to be stiffer and more formal than I had expected. Something about Saskia’s body language suggested that I wasn’t going to be introduced. Indeed, there was something in the way that Saskia stepped in front of me as we chatted that suggested that she was trying to write me out of the conversation As we cycled back the short distance to Saskia’s apartment, I asked who she’d been speaking to.
“My mum,” came Saskia’s curt reply.
I knew Saskia well enough to realise that she didn’t want to speak about the meeting, so I said nothing as we cycled the short distance down the Vijselstraat before turning left onto the Keizersgracht.
As we parked our bikes Saskia ventured “We’ve been invited to lunch today, and we have to go. My parents want to meet you.”
The cold, blandness of her language was a great contrast to the Saskia I know I love. It felt like we’d been lumbered with an unsavoury task. Rather than enquiring further, I let Saskia take the lead on how we move things forward.
As we entered her apartment, I grabbed Saskia with one hand, spinning her round so I could grab the other.
“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” I reassured Saskia. “Let’s make the most of the morning and then lunch will be a breeze.”
“Sure,” she said, “let’s.”
Saskia ran a bath as I put the cakes on a plate, made coffee and then padded into the bathroom, discarding my clothes on the way. Saskia was already in the bath enrobed by foam when I arrived. We sat there in silence, eating. I attempt to create some spontaneous fun by feeding Saskia, but it didn’t work, nor did it improve her mood. She seemed distracted and distanced.
After 20 minutes of silence, Saskia got out, leaving me to finish the cakes and luxuriate in the bath. The warm bubbles and the cakes were soporific, so lay back and enjoyed feeling by body relax after a hard training session.
“Nicky! Nicky!”
The sound of my name being called pulled me out of a light snooze; I sat up in the bath.
“Nicky, come here!” I heard.
I got out the bath, wrapping a towel around myself and padded into the bedroom to find Saskia lying naked in bed half covered by a sheet. Her face was puffy I slid into bed beside her and simply hugged her without saying a word since I realised what she’d been doing. When Saskia has unmet needs, she often masturbates herself to orgasm. It gives her release and the pleasure is a distraction from whatever is upsetting her.
As I lay there hugging her, I heard a gentle buzz coming from under the sheet and I realised that she was playing with one of her vibrators. The first time I saw her doing this, I felt threatened. But over time I fell in love with her orgasms. They are a delicious and incredibly sensuous experience for me as well as her. It connects us deeply and we play with the energy it creates as individuals and as a couple.
Lying beside her, I could feel her breathing change, and sensed pulses of pleasure reverberate around her body as she stimulated her clitoris. I watched as her eyes closed tightly; she pants as the feeling inside her grow. Whilst watching Saskia come makes me hard, the overwhelming emotion is one of deep connection. I see her at her most magnificent and at her most vulnerable. She trusts me enough to let me in on something deeply personal. When she touches herself like that, it’s not done as an act of foreplay, although it can lead to sex, but rather it is an act of self-soothing. It deepens our feelings for each other. It makes Saskia feel safe and accepted.
I hold her tightly as her muscles clench, the outline of her legs which are spread wide, are visible under the sheet. He face is a picture of concentration as she starts to reach her peak. Her cheeks flush and her lips open as she focusses on the sensations. One hand is clutching her vibrator which is pushed hard against her body. The other hand is jerking up and down as she finger fucks herself.