Page 47 of Jacking Jill

Jill struggled to turn her head as Jack carried her across the threshold. The room had midnight-blue walls with forest-green carpeting and matching green trim on the black ventilator grills. A black metal desk with a matching chair stood against the wall. An open closet stood beside a closed door that presumably led to a restroom.

Against the far wall, beneath the gently humming ventilator grill, lay a metal-framed double-bed with an air-mattress made up in military-gray bedclothes and matching fleece blankets. Jack lowered her onto the mattress, which was firm and bouncy, perhaps over-inflated. Jill giggled as she jiggled, then smiled when she saw Jack opening up the fleece blanket for her.

He covered Jill from her toes to her chin, then stepped back, rubbed the back of his neck, grunted, and finally strode over to the solitary desk and dragged out the chair. He sat down, lifted his legs and placed them on the table, positioning himself in an improvised recline that looked terribly uncomfortable.

“I think maybe we stumbled into the torture-chamber section of Darkwater HQ,” Jack grumbled as he tried a few different positions, then slid his body off the chair and landed on the carpet. He rolled over onto his back, cradled his head in his left palm, stared up at the ceiling, then turned his head towards her and smiled. “You need anything, Jill?”

Jill shook her head.

Jack nodded. “All right. Holler if you do need something.” He closed his eyes.

Jill watched him quietly. She was exhausted but still wide awake. It wasn’t that wired sort of alertness, though. It was a steady buzz that had started building when Jack lifted her into his arms. Being snuggled into his big warm body had affected her in a way that she didn’t want to admit to herself—let alone to him.

She watched him silently for several more breaths. The room was dark and still, nothing but the gentle drift of air from the ventilators. Jill swallowed, sighed, tried to close her eyes, couldn’t do it.

“Jack?” she whispered.

Jack grunted, opened one eye. “You need something? Water? Food?”

Love, came the thought from Jill’s buzzing body, but the word stayed tucked inside her because of course it couldn’t be said because it couldn’t be real.

“I . . . I’m fine,” she said hesitantly. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

Jack studied her with that one open eye. Then he grunted, shrugged, and closed the eye.

Jill sighed, turned on her side, the motion making her bounce on the over-inflated air-bed. She sighed again, turned on her other side, then yanked the fleece blanket down past her breasts because suddenly she was hot and uncomfortable, scratchy and cranky.

She’d left her shoes in the medical center after that nice woman Fay had checked her for shock. Fay wasn’t a doctor, but apparently both her parents—now deceased—had been doctors who’d trained Fay in both modern and some not-so-modern medical techniques while growing up in Iceland. Jill stuck her bare feet out the bottom of the fleece blanket. Her toes were free, but Jill still had her black tights on, and suddenly she wanted them off.

Jill glanced at the closed bathroom door past Jack the resting giant. She considered tiptoeing over him, but she’d been unsteady on her feet earlier and she didn’t want to step on Jack and wake him. She could wriggle out of her tights beneath the blanket, couldn’t she? It was dark.

She slid her hands beneath the blanket, found the bottom hem of her black dress, tried to pull it up over her hips so she could get to the waistband of her tights. She got the front of her dress up, but needed to raise her ass off the mattress to get the back of the dress up past the curve of her butt.

Sucking in a breath, Jill lifted her bottom off the mattress, yanked up her dress, then plopped back on the over-inflated mattress. The entire bed bounced frantically, the springs of the metal frame squeaking beneath her as the over-inflated mattress bounced like a darned trampoline as she wriggled and wrenched, shoved and shimmied, tugged and tore at her tights to get them off her.

Finally she got them off past her legs, but the effort had made her hotter than before. Still, the pesky tights were off now. She’d cool down soon enough.

The fleece blanket was all bunched up around her waist, and just as Jill gathered up her tights and was about to toss them into the corner of the room, she gasped in horror at the mortifying revelation that she’d pulled off her panties along with the tights and now her dress was hiked up past her hips and the fleece blanket had fallen away and her recently waxed pussy was exposed to the open air, plumped up like it was on display.

“Shit,” Jill gasped, flinging the crumpled mass of tights and panties away from her with one hand, frantically tugging at the hem of her dress with the other. She managed to get the dress down far enough, then got the blanket spread out over her bare thighs, relieved that she’d accomplished all of it without waking Jack.

Or maybe not.

“Hey, Jill?” came his muffled voice from the carpeted floor.

Jill froze, wondering if she should pretend to be asleep. Thankfully the room was dark enough that even if Jack had glanced over, he wouldn’t have seen everything, maybe wouldn’t have seen anything at all. Anyway, he must have heard her tossing and turning, wriggling and struggling. No need to fake being asleep. Her modesty was intact. Her dignity was preserved.

“Yes?” she said with measured nonchalance, languidly turning her head in his direction like everything was fine, totally cool, nothing to see here.

But then she saw why Jack’s voice had sounded muffled earlier.

“Ohmygod, I didn’t mean to do that!” Jill shrieked in horror when she realized that while tossing her bunched-up tights and panties, the two items of clothing had separated, and while the tights had ended up in the corner of the room like she’d intended, her panties had taken a different flight-path and had landed very much not where she’d intended! “Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I so did not mean for that to happen, Jack!”

“So it was a mistake? Well, that’s disappointing,” Jack growled from beneath her panties, which had landed squarely on his face and were still covering his mouth and nose as he rumbled with laughter.

Jill buried her face in the blanket, giggling uncontrollably for a few seconds before gathering herself enough to face him. But when Jill peered out and focused her eyes in the darkness, she saw that she couldn’t face Jack because Jack’s face was not visible through the crotch of her panties.

“OK, you can take my underwear off your face now,” she said, rolling towards the edge of the bouncy bed and trying to snatch her panties back. “Give me those, you pervert,” she giggled as Jack stuck his tongue stiffly up so that her panties rose off his face like a black butterfly. “You’re sick.”

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