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On the Rocks

By: Koba



Nancy walked along the path overlooking the ocean. The morning mist obscured the view of the blue sea which stretches far beyond the horizon on a clear day. All that was visible in the fog was the Hopewell Rocks. These giant stone monoliths rise from the beach floor to a height of over thirty five meters. The rocks tower over the seascape below. Their imposing size and dominance over the coastal vista have made them a major attraction in New Brunswick. And on this morning their ability to penetrate above the thick carpet of fog gives them an almost mystical appearance. 

Yet for Nancy the rocks only significance on this day is that this is where she was told to be. She had arisen very early to make the two hour drive in the darkness to get there by the appointed time, 6:40 AM. Indeed she had arrived much earlier. She had been sitting in her car in the deserted parking lot for forty minutes. There was no one else there which was not surprising in that an early Sunday morning in October is not a popular time for travellers to be out. As the first light of early morning broke through Nancy got out of the car to walk and wait. 

The tension was almost unbearable. Every minute felt like an hour as she walked along. She constantly looked at her watch. The hands were moving so slowly that she wondered if the time would ever arrive. Several times she thought to jump back in the car and race off. But she didn't. She waited. As she knew she must. Her need was too strong. For as great as her fear was Nancy knew that by leaving she would only be returning to the frustration and loneliness which had been a part of her life for so long. 

She was waiting for a man. A man whom she had not yet met but with whom she had been writing and talking for the last six weeks. A man whose words had inspired her to levels of curiosity and excitement which she had never experienced before. A man whom she had come to call her Master, whose domination she craved to feel with every fiber of her being. 

Her soul was alive with the need for fulfillment. As she paced along the paved trail, she looked back on her life. She had married young, in her teens. The relationship was a disaster from the start. He was a magazine husband whose luster tarnished and rusted soon after the taking of the vows. The next man in her life was an abusive alcoholic. She lived in fear of him until she found the strength to get up and go. And lastly was her husband whose love she had shared for over twenty years. He was a man who treated her like an empress on a pedestal. And although it was fulfilling in many ways, the relationship was very vanilla which left Nancy with an inner yearning that was not being satisfied. She felt the need to surrender herself, body and spirit, to a man who would take complete control over her, if even for just a short time. Now that she was free again she was determined to answer this calling which she had denied herself for so many years. 

She had searched for all the information she could find on D/s and bdsm. This newly found knowledge only whetted her appetite more. But the first attempts to make contacts turned her off. Her emails were answered by unsavory men whose only interest was in degrading her. She was not a doormat, a mindless being who would accept anything that came down. She wanted domination not abuse. And she wanted a man with experience not a rookie wannabe. After many months of searching Nancy met with a Dom from the States. The sessions were enlightening for her. The physical aspects were thrilling. She loved the powerless feeling from the bondage. She enjoyed the pain. She felt fresh and alive while experiencing for the first time the joys of submission. But although she had the utmost respect for this Dom she did not feel that he was the one who would take her to the level she desired. She wanted more. But she didn't know how to get to it . 

Then she connected with Him. From the very first exchange of emails Nancy was under his spell. His insights and perceptions amazed her. He could see inside her like no one else ever could. Indeed, at times, she believed that he knew her better than she knew herself. She felt naked to the soul before him. The erotic imagery in his writings induced a state of dreamlike reverie in her. She longed to feel the reality of his touch. She knew that he was the one who could take her where she wanted to go for she was ready to submit totally to his control and domination. 

Therefore, when a meeting was proposed she readily agreed. After receiving the instructions for the rendezvous on Friday, she took great care to follow them exactly. She had awakened very early. She left early to arrive early. Now she paced, eagerly awaiting his coming. But as the minutes passed she began to worry. There was no sign of him. She could see far up the entry road but there were no cars coming in. His instructions were so exact on the timing that she wondered if something was wrong. She looked at her watch. It read exactly 6:40. Yet she was alone. 

Then she heard a frightening sound which froze her in her tracks. She focused all her attention on listening. Her concentration was intense. She heard footsteps, yet there was no one in sight. She suddenly realized that the sound was coming from below, from the metal stairs which led down to the beach and the base of the rocks. The staircase was long, over four stories. It wound back and forth slowly climbing the heights of the steep bluff. She looked down but could not see very far because of the fog. But by the increasing volume of the footsteps she knew that whoever it was, was getting ever closer. Nancy trembled. She was numb, as much from the excitement as from the fear she felt. Her heart was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she thought it might drown out the sound of the steps. After the eternity of several minutes the figure broke through the fog. He was dressed in a long black cape with a black hood. As he reached the top of the metal landing he stopped and looked at Nancy who was standing about ten meters away. He removed the hood. She recognized him instantly. She waited for him to speak. 

"Come....follow me." 

He turned, descending the stairs. For a moment Nancy was too stunned to move. But as he disappeared back into the fog she hastened to follow him. The stairs were damp. As she had only sandals on her feet, she held the railing tightly as she went down, but it too was wet and slippery. She tried to keep up but by the sound of his steps she knew she was falling behind. The stairs were steep. The mist was so thick she could only see a few feet. She kept going. Her fears evaporated as she climbed down. The wildness of the surroundings and the experience thrilled her. Never would she have attempted this on her own. She felt like she was being led into the biggest adventure of her life. She had to stifle her laughter and her screams of joy. She felt so free. 

At the base of the stairs she turned to follow him up the beach. Again she could not see him for the fog was even thicker on the ground. But she could still hear his steps for the beach was stone not sand. The strong tides that pounded this area washed away all the sediment. All that covered the exposed ocean floor was a thin layer of grey mud. It was low tide. Way off in the distance the Atlantic waves could be heard rolling in. But Nancy did not hear them at all as she was focused on the sound of the footsteps she was trying to follow. She was making a great effort to catch up. At one point his outline came into view but Nancy slipped on the mud. The cold silt chilled her exposed legs. She slipped again trying to get up. The primeval environment was difficult to negotiate. Regaining her balance and bearings she continued her pursuit. 

He had walked over a kilometer on the flats when he took a path that led up the side of the bluff. This trail was steep. The climb was strenuous. Nancy felt winded when she reached the top of the path where there were two large rocks with a narrow space between them. She squeezed through it. On the other side was an opening to a cave. There was no sign of him, but she knew he was in there for there was nowhere else to go. Slowly she entered the cave. The path through the hard rock was narrow and dark. Her steps were tentative. She was feeling her way. After about twenty meters she could see a dim light ahead. As she moved onward and inward this light got brighter. Finally she came to the opening of a large chamber. She gasped at what she saw inside. 

The chamber was substantial, over a hundred meters square. The ceiling varied in height from less than a meter to over seven meters in the center. The cave was well lit by several hundred white candles which had been placed on every visible ledge and recess in the room. The flickering flames gave the chamber an eerie yet warm glow. At her feet Nancy saw two rows of candles illuminating a path between them. She followed it to the center where she finally met up with her Master who was standing there waiting for her. 

He motioned her to stand before him. He looked directly into her eyes. The effect on Nancy was hypnotic. She had studied his eyes in the pictures he had sent her. She knew they were powerful but not like this. The essence of her soul was wide open to him. Her surrender was already complete. She was his. 

He reached down to unbutton her long overcoat, letting it drop to the ground. Nancy stood there in a black negligee which per his instructions was all she had on under the coat. Around her neck was a chain with a silver cross. He reached over to smooth down her windblown hair. Nancy welcomed the feel of his hand stroking her. She felt confident and beautiful in his presence. Standing straight and tall with her chest pushed forward, her proud stance was an invitation for him to touch her. 

With one easy motion he opened his cape and threw it aside. He was naked. Nancy eyed his body from head to toe. She craved to touch his skin but did not dare to. Realizing her desires he pulled her head forward to his nipple. She sucked it lovingly for she knew of its sensitivity. She reached out to touch the other one. She heard a low moan escape from her Master. It pleased her. 

Knowing that this pleasure would soften him too much, he pushed her head downward. Nancy slowly dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth. She sucked it passionately. Whenever she had done this before with a man she had been doubtful and anxious about her performance. But now she felt a super confidence about her talents. She fellated him with strokes that were long and slow. She loved the feeling. Her submission in such a primitive surrounding served to bring out primal desires and instincts which she had no idea existed within her. It was as if the brute sexual impulses of ancient ancestors were coming to the fore. She wanted more. 

He told her to stand and remove her clothing. She was naked but for the cross. He reached over and fastened a collar around her neck. The collar was made of soft black leather inlaid with polished silver and gold. The ring in the front was solid silver. The precious metals shimmered in the flickering light. 

"This is my gift to you. You are special. You are beautiful. And while wearing this collar, you are mine." 

"Thank you Master Michael." Nancy felt tears swelling in her eyes. She had never felt such a sense of gratitude. She felt like a Queen who was in service to her King, her Lord and absolute Master. 

Taking her by the hand Michael led her over to a flat slab of rock which was almost a meter high and over two meters long. At the ends of the slab were two lit candles. But unlike the others in the cave these were not white. One was red, the other black. Michael laid a bright red cashmere blanket across the cold stone. He motioned for Nancy to lie flat on her stomach across the soft blanket. He poured warm scented oil on her back. Then he gave her a slow massage alternating between soft stroking of the skin and hard kneading of the muscles. The effect on Nancy was incredible. All the stress in her body evaporated. She felt as if she was floating on the rocks. 

Next came a flogging, backside first. Michael used a flogger with hundreds of thin rubber tassels. The whipping was done using rapid fire strokes so that Nancy felt the tassels beating her skin more than a hundred times a minute. After the relaxing massage treatment her body was highly susceptible to the erotic pounding of the flogger. 

Upon turning Nancy over onto her back Michael put iron shackles on her wrists and ankles, chaining them to rings on the sides of the rocks. She was now helpless. And she loved it. He flogged her front side. The pounding was heavier than on the back. The last area to feel the whip was her pussy. Michael struck it with strokes fired even more rapidly. Nancy screamed as she succumbed to a body wrenching orgasm which tore into her, sending shock waves of blinding heat to her brain. The sounds of her high pitched moaning and the rattling of the chains echoed throughout the cave. 

Michael then placed steel clamps tightly on Nancy's tender nipples. She pleaded for relief. Yet even her pleading, her begging and crying, was pleasurable. She loved being at the mercy of a man in whom she placed total and absolute trust. It allowed her to let go and let loose in a way that she had never experienced before. As he tightened the clamps even more she screamed at the top of her lungs yet she felt like she would scream even louder if he removed them now. She had crossed the line into a zone where pain is pleasure, and agony is ecstasy. She was beyond thought, beyond emotion, achieving a state where all she could do was experience. She was helpless and powerless. Her body and her senses were sponges which existed to absorb the powerful stimulations of her dominant Master. 

Michael climbed onto the rocks and mounted her. Their dominant and submissive impulses merged and flowed together in their lovemaking which brought a feeling of wholeness and fulfillment of purpose to both of them. Their shared passions and climatic orgasms left them both exhausted on the stone slabs. They fell blissfully asleep in each others arms. 

Waking at noon they went outside the cave to find that the tide had come in. The tides at Cape Hopewell are the highest in the world. The pathway down from the cave and the beach itself was under the deep and cold ocean water. They were trapped but neither one minded. Indeed Michael had planned it that way for he knew the tide schedule. To continue the delightful sensual activities he prepared a lunch consisting of boiled lobster, fresh vineyard grapes, and Vermont cheese to be washed down with a bottle of French wine. The exuberant couple feasted while sitting on granite rocks watching and listening to the waves pounding against the cliffs below. 

Afterwards they retreated once more to the chamber deep inside the cliff. Their second session consumed the remainder of the afternoon. Nancy was given the opportunity to explore her desires and curiousities about bdsm. She requested a spanking. Michael obliged by thrashing her naked ass with an oaken paddle. She responded to this hard whacking with primal screams which echoed and reverberated in the cave with a chilling effect. She loved it. 

For a finale, all the candles were blown out. The cave was pitch black. The darkness was absolute. They made love once more on the rocks at the center of the chamber. The utter blackness made for an exquisite setting for the final release of their heated passions. 

Low tide was at 7:05 PM. They walked along the beach back to the metal staircase. The air was free from the fog which had obscured the view in the early morning. The sun setting in the west was casting its last rays out to the horizon lying far out on the ocean. The coolness of an autumn night was descending upon Hopewell Cape. As Nancy climbed the last few stairs at the top of the bluff she gazed back at the Hopewell Rocks and smiled. It was a day she would remember forever. 

On the Rocks



NOTE: This story is not technically about incest since there is no blood connection between the main characters. I put it in this category because it almost qualifies.

_______________________

It's not news, and certainly no surprise to me, that statistics show that half of all marriages end in divorce these days. I think that probably another 25% should end that way. Maybe the idea of marriage is obsolete anyway. My own divorce ratio is two thirds, and my current one is in that second group. Why don't I divorce my wife? Well, to answer that I need to explain how I got to this point in the first place.

Shelley and I met through a mutual friend five years ago. I was just recovering from my second divorce and she was looking for a husband. She had been divorced for two years and was tired of dating "unsuitable men", as she put it. I'm still not sure what made her think I was suitable, but apparently her estimation was seriously off. We were married and had a nice honeymoon. Her daughters stayed with their father for the two weeks we were in Mexico fucking our brains out.

Shelley's girls were eight and thirteen when we married. Allie, the younger one was unhappy with our union. She had still held the hope that her parents would get back together. Billie had no such illusions. Being the older one, she was more painfully aware of the grievances her parents had toward each other. She and I hit it off, if not from the first, then from very soon after her mom and I got together. In those first months, when things were still good between Shel and me, we had a lot of fun. The good times the four of us had, picnicking, camping and such, helped to bring even Allie around to acceptance of the situation -- and of me.

While I've always been a believer in the "united front" approach to parenting, it didn't take long for the girls to notice the influence my presence had on their mother. I urged her (out of the hearing of the children, of course) to temper her discipline with more love. I urged more positive feedback. Billie has told me that before I came along Shelley was a harridan. ("Do it because I say so, dammit!") Don't misunderstand me, there are definitely times when that is the tack one has to take, but not every time.

We had two good years. Then Shelley's old habits (and probably mine as well) began to assert themselves. She became irresponsible about a lot of things. She spent too much money on things we didn't need. She got "great" ideas, invested money in them, then dropped them when another brainstorm came along. (It isn't that a lot of her ideas weren't intrinsically good. Most of them were. The problem was that she hadn't thought them through before jumping in with both feet.) She would fail to be where she was supposed to be at certain times. She'd be late without calling. All this overlapped onto the girls, both in disciplinary form and in Shelley's disappointing failures to show up for school events and other things.

We began to argue. I tried to keep things private, addressing Shelley's failures when the girls weren't around. She, however, didn't understand the damage it does when parents argue -- at least the way Shelley does -- in front of children. Shelley develops a foul mouth when she is angry. She doesn't care what she calls me (or their father, or sometimes even her daughters ) or who hears it. Increasingly, both girls began to turn to me for solace and support. That is the root of why I don't divorce the bitch. We didn't adopt the girls when we married, so I have no legal rights where they're concerned. Still, I won't abandon them to her tender mercies, even though they are now thirteen and eighteen. Billie will soon be out of the house but Allie has five more years. After that, Shelley can kiss my ass.

As I said, the closeness that developed between myself and the girls, especially Billie, was why I was reluctant to leave. I feel good about the fact that I have had no little part in helping Billie develop into a wonderful young woman. At thirteen she was a gawky, shy bookworm. She could count the friends in her class on one hand. At eighteen she ran for class vice president and won hands down. Her mother hadn't paid any attention to the whole thing, so I took the girls out to dinner to celebrate when their mom didn't come home from work.

Shelley's unexplained absences might lead a man to wonder about infidelity. I wondered, but couldn't, by then, find it in myself to be angry or resentful. I just had stopped caring. To me it was a plus that we didn't have to put up with so many of Shelley's free-ranging temper tantrums. The girls and I had barbecues, played games and went to the park near the house.

Last summer Allie went to camp for a week in July. I had suggested to Shelley that she and Billie and I take the week off and go somewhere. There is a nice lake about two hours drive up into the mountains. It is owned entirely by one family. They built a few rental cabins around the shoreline. It wasn't primitive, since they had electricity and running water. Still it was a nice rustic getaway from the city. Shelley and I took both girls there a few times when we first became a family. Shelley, however, wanted no part of it. "I never really liked all the dirt and grime of a camping trip," she said. "I only did it to 'bond' with you. You and Billie can go knock yourselves out. I don't care."

And that was just it. She didn't care any more, if she ever had. Maybe she had given birth to the girls to 'bond' with their father. It hadn't worked, I guess. At any rate, Billie was eager to get away for a while. I arranged to take my vacation from work and the same Friday afternoon we put Allie on the bus to camp, Billie and I set off for the lake.

We reached the cabin just before dusk. We sat on the swing on the covered porch of our little two room cabin watching the sky change colors. all we had to do that first night was relax. We had stopped for burgers on the road, so dinner wasn't an issue. Billie leaned into me and my arm went automatically around her shoulders. Many nights she and Allie and I sat and watched TV that way, one girl on either side of me.

I was drinking a beer. Billie asked for a sip. I sometimes let her taste my beers, but not often. We got to discussing her coming freshman year of college. "You know, Dad, I am probably going to be going to parties at school. I should learn how to drink."

"You aren't going to school to party, B.," I admonished. I knew that there would be parties, that there would be drinking -- as well as drugs, and sex. I had gone to college myself. "I suppose that you will go to some, though. That doesn't mean you have to drink. It isn't a sin to be a teetotaler, you know."

"Yeah, but what kind of friends will that leave me? Bible bangers and holy rollers? No thanks!" I knew she had a point.

"A lot of people never drink, but they don't fit into those categories. Still, if you want a beer, this seems like the perfect place to allow you one -- just one, remember!" She bounced up off the swing and slammed into the house to get her very first ( I hoped!) beer. A few minutes later she returned. She had brought a fresh one for me, as well. We sat and talked about what classes she should take and sipped our beers. At least I sipped. Billie was finished with her beer before I had drunk half of mine. She pleaded for another one.

I knew that I should probably let her drink herself sick while we were at the lake. Nothing like some aversion therapy. So that's what I decided to do. I told her to go ahead. I had brought enough for myself for the week. If she drank me out, I would either do without or drive to the little store a mile back down the road. When she came back with her second can I explained to her.

"I'll tell you what. I know the temptations you'll encounter at school. You are strong enough to resist them if you choose to do so. But I know how seductive it is to want to fit in with your friends." She was watching me with a little frown, wondering where I was going with this lecture. "So while we're here, I've decided to let you have as much to drink as you want. I'm sure you'll get drunk, maybe even puke. You'll wake up with a hangover and swear to never drink again. That's a promise you probably won't keep. But maybe the experience will give you some idea of your limits and teach you not to go overboard again. So knock yourself out, Kiddo." She raised up and planted a wet, beery kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks, Daddy. I'll bet you I don't get sick, though." Two hours and several beers later, those words echoed in my mind while I held her hair back as she deposited her five beers into the grass at the edge of the clearing where the cabin stood. She held her stomach and answered the frogs in the lake with her own croaks. Finally she was empty, but still drunk. Having been there, I knew what would make her feel the best she could under the circumstances.

I helped her inside and into the bathroom. I started the water and ran a warm bath for her. She sat on the toilet and groaned. I went out and got one of the long tee-shirts that she slept in from her backpack. I took it back in and hung it on the empty hook on the wall. Billie hadn't moved. "Can you get yourself in and not drown?" I asked her. She nodded. I walked out and pulled the door to, but not latched. I wanted to be able to hear her if she needed me.

I was sitting on the couch reading a few minutes later. "Daddy..." Billie's voice sounded so pitiful, but I knew she wasn't dying -- just wishing she could. "Can you come here...please?" I set my book aside and went to the door of the bathroom.

"What do you need, Honey?" I felt the steamy air drifting out.

"No, come in here," she said. It had been a couple of years since I'd seen her naked. I was perfectly aware of the developing breasts and womanly curves that had replaced the angles of adolescence. Still, when I walked in I was impressed. Her breasts bobbed at the water line, their nipples a beautiful deep pink. I was surprised when I glanced down to her crotch. Where I had expected to see a dark patch of pubic hair, there was just bare skin, just the way she'd looked at thirteen. My eyes went back to her face. "Can you wash me, please?" she asked me.

"Sure, Honey," I said as I knelt down beside the tub. I suppose that there had been obscure hints of fantasy about my stepdaughter in the depths of my mind. A foreshadowing of the shocking thoughts that began to drift into my consciousness then. They were shocking to me, since I had watched this girl grow up, helping her through some rough times -- times her mother properly should have taken on, but wouldn't or couldn't. Like when she got her first period. Like when she had her first date and second and third with the same nice-seeming boy -- the date when she had to fight the boy off to keep him out of her pants. My discussion with the boy's parents the next day. I eased her through those times with all the love of a natural parent. Why was I now feeling the insidious edge of lust rubbing against my love for her? The answer is simple now. That night I didn't realize that Billie and I had become more of a loving couple -- except for the lack of a sexual dimension -- than her mother and I were at that point.

I soaped up her back and rinsed her off, kneading her shoulders while she leaned her spinning head against my arm. She leaned back and closed her eyes. I took a deep breath and used the cloth to wash her face and neck. Then I moved down to her firm breasts and belly. My cock was stiff in my jeans and my own mind was spinning every bit as much as Billie's must have been, but my problem wasn't from too much beer. I resisted the urge to plunge down and run my hand over her soft mound. Instead I lifted her foot and scrubbed it roughly. She giggled and jerked away, telling me it tickled too much. I played with her the same way I had at other times, tickling her feet and ribs. Her attempts to shield herself splashed us both, my shirt and jeans becoming drenched in the process. My lust retreated, but never disappeared. It brought our play into a new arena, though I didn't think she was aware of it then.

I dropped the cloth into the water and stood up. She seemed to be feeling better. "So now you know how much beer is too much for you, don't you?" I said with my best parental voice.

"Oh, God!" she groaned, holding her head between her hands. "My head is pounding! I thought this wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow?"

"Throwing up sometimes accelerates things," I told her as I turned to leave. "Maybe you won't feel too bad in the morning to go fishing." I somehow had my doubts about a morning on a bobbing boat after that night of vomiting, but kids heal more quickly than adults. She already seemed more herself.

"Oh, yea!" she cheered. "I bet I catch a bigger trout than you do!" I laughed and made my escape. It stopped me when I realized the way I was thinking of what had just happened. It felt like I had simultaneously passed and flunked a test. Passed because I had beaten the lust away, but flunked because it had occurred at all. I was also still very horny.

There were three beds in the cabin. One was full size, the other two were twins. By the time Billie came out of the bathroom in her long tee-shirt, I had stripped to my underwear and gotten into the larger bed. She rummaged in her pack and retrieved a pair of panties. She turned away and stepped into them. I indulged the impulse to watch her perfect heart-shaped ass disappear into the little bikinis. My dick twitched again and I adjusted my position so it didn't show. Billie came to my side and bent to kiss me goodnight. I presented my cheek to her, but she took my chin in hand and kissed my lips. It wasn't the first time she'd done that. It always had happened when she really wanted to let me know how much she loved and appreciated me. My heart ached, knowing I only partly deserved her love -- and her bottomless trust. She got into her twin bed and I turned out the light.

The next day I was disappointed to see that she seemed to have no trace of a hangover whatsoever. We went fishing in the morning and swam out to the float in the afternoon. The lake wasn't wide, but it was about a half mile long. While we fished I looked around the shore. The only activity I noticed was at the far end of the lake. A man and a boy chopped wood and a plume of smoke floated above the roof. None of the nearer cabins seemed to be in use.

We had fresh trout for lunch, rolled in egg and cornmeal then fried over the wood stove. When she asked, I allowed Billie to drink a beer with her food. I was glad to see that she stopped at one. We rested -- I napped, I don't know about Billie -- then got undressed to go swimming. After that Billie took a nap on my bed ("It's a lot more comfortable!") while I sat outside and read. Later we played cards and backgammon while we talked.

Still later, I was sitting on the porch swing. Billie was on the top step of the porch, leaning against the support post. "Dad, there's something I have wanted to talk to you about," Billie sounded very serious. I told her to go ahead. "Well, remember when Thomas almost raped me?" That had been the first boy she'd gone out with. She had dated others since. I felt a little uneasy because we'd never talked about the extent of her sexual activities -- if any. I had been curious in the past. My feelings from the night before had reminded me that I didn't even know if she was still a virgin.

"Of course I remember."

"Well...it made me think -- a lot. I liked making out with boys, but I just wasn't ready to go any farther. But at the same time, I didn't want to get a reputation of being a tease. So when I was going out with Dave last year I decided to take the next step." I felt my muscles tense up. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear about this. I reminded myself that, while she certainly had shared all this with her friends, she needed a mature perspective. Her mother obviously wouldn't have taken the time to listen to her. I urged her to go on.

"It was our third date -- must be a magic number, eh? That was when Thomas decided I should put out for him. Anyway, I let Dave feel my tits." She had used the word before in my hearing. Language restrictions weren't high on my list of discipline requirements. I'd even overheard her say 'fuck' on the phone to her friends a couple of times. That was one she had yet to use in my presence. "Then he wanted me to play with his...penis." I wondered what term she and her friends preferred: a cock? A prick? A dick? Dong, willie, prong, rod, the list goes on and on. She was, so far, unwilling to use any of the euphemisms to me, however.

"So what did you do?" I asked.

"I did it. It was stiff and felt funny in my hand. He told me to rub it up and down. A couple of minutes later he squirted cu...uh...sperm all over us both. He wiped it all up with a towel he took out of the console. I remember thinking he must keep it there for that." The fact that he was prepared for something like that was what put her off of things. She went on to explain that it made her feel like he had set her up. I thought so too.

"He probably had some condoms in there, too," I told her with a smile. She glanced at me and smiled back.

"Probably! Are all of you like that? I mean all guys?"

"No. I know it seems like it, especially with boys your age. But there really are nice guys out there. On the other hand, you could look at it from another perspective. It is a good thing a boy is prepared if he is going to be sexually active. Towels and condoms are good. Better than getting a girl pregnant or passing on a disease."

She warmed to the conversation. She already knew I'd had a vasectomy several years before her mother came into my life. That point had been brought out when the girls had asked if they could expect a new sibling. I finally worked up the courage to ask her. "So, Honey, you haven't said. Are you still a virgin?" Her eyes darted to mine then quickly away. She gazed at the lake, struggling with her need to talk and her reluctance to admit to me that she wasn't "as pure as the driven snow". She gulped and turned back to me.

"No," she said, dropping her gaze from mine. I knew she was afraid she'd see disapproval there. She'd have been disappointed in that. I reached over and took her hand. She raised her eyes again.

"It's okay, B.," I said. "Really. I don't think any less of you. Want to tell me?"

She took a deep breath. he previous summer she had slept over at a girlfriend's house. They had sneaked out and met some boys. One of them was Dave, the guy she'd jerked off before. They went to a deserted park -- in fact the one where I'd taken the girls to play on the swings and slide once upon a time. The boys fucked the girls, the girls sneaked back in. End of story. I pulled her to her feet and drew her to the swing. We sat and talked a lot. I told her the only part of the tale that bothered me was the sneaking out. I finally convinced her that I didn't share the mainstream view that a girl should be a virgin on her wedding night. I also let her know that, conversely, I didn't approve of sharing her treasures with every guy she dated. It felt good to open up to her. Almost as good as it felt to have her open up to me.

We discussed a number of things about sex that day. She had all the questions everybody has. I was as honest as I could be, even though some of the topics were difficult for me to talk to her about. Oral sex, for instance. She had never given it or received it. Hell, she'd only given one hand job and been fucked once -- probably badly. Fortunately, it sounded as if the boy had taken care to prepare her for it sufficiently. It hadn't hurt much she said. She said he'd wanted her to blow him, but she wouldn't. Her girlfriend hadn't been so shy. Billie said it had kind of turned her on to watch Sheila suck on her boyfriend's cock (she finally used the word), but not enough for her to work up the nerve. She asked me about blowjobs -- how, what, etc. I laughed.




On the Rocks



"You're asking the wrong guy, Honey. Ask your mother -- or on second thought, don't. Ask the doctor the next time you go see her." The girls had been going to the same doctor that had brought them into the world all their lives. I was fairly sure she would give her straight answers. "Or you could look into it in a sex manual. Still, I'm sure nothing beats experience. That's the way it is with other aspects of sex."

"Well, then, tell me about when a guy goes down on a girl. What's that like?" This was where I got really uncomfortable. I felt my face heat up and was only able to give her the bare bones of an explanation. Again, I fell back on experience being the best teacher. She sat silent then for a while. Then she rose and said she wanted to take a shower. She went inside and I remained in the swing, thinking and swinging as I watched the lake. I tried not to imagine her in the shower. It didn't work. Last night's bath, my own sexual deprivation (Shelley and I rarely got along well enough to fuck), and our discussion had revved up my libido. I went to make sure she was safely in the shower. She hadn't closed the door. It stood wide open and I could see her through the blur of the glass door. No dark shadow at her crotch. I rubbed my erection through my pants.

Things got worse as I saw her hand drop to her own crotch. Her motions left no doubt but that she was masturbating. I undid my shorts and stroked myself as she diddled her little pussy. The idea that only a pane of glass and a cloud of steam separated us made me even hotter. It didn't take long for me to cum. I cleaned myself up and buttoned my shorts. I went back outside and down to the dock. I was dangling my feet in the water and feeling guilty when Billie came down. She had put her bikini back on and carried a towel, which she spread out to lay on. There was maybe another half hour of good sun left to the day.

"Can you rub some lotion on my back, Daddy?" I was glad to do it, but not because I didn't want to see her sunburned. She untied the strap of her top and lay on her belly. I rubbed her back as I spread the lotion. "We probably could just go naked here if we wanted to," she said. "There isn't anybody else except that family down the lake." The idea had occurred to me already, but I had been reluctant to suggest it. The way things had developed now, I knew that my new interest in my stepdaughter would be all too plain as soon as we got naked.

"You can if you want to, Honey." I said. I purposely said "you", rather than "we". It wasn't lost on her.

"Well, I don't want to be the only one. Come on, I've seen you naked before. And you gave me a bath last night. That felt really good, Daddy. I'll show you mine...again...if you show me yours." She lifted her head and looked at me with a grin. It was a challenge. A very knowing challenge. I knew then that she must have known what I was doing while she showered. Later she told me that she could see my silhouette in the living room. I had forgotten about the outside brightness. My face heated up and I felt really silly.

She rolled over and pulled her top off and wriggled out of the bottoms. On her knees, she lifted my shirt off over my head and began to unbutton my shorts. I pushed her hands away and sat back. "Come on, chicken!" she challenged. I sighed and pulled off my shorts. I hadn't bothered with underwear after we swam. My cock was already hard. Her eyes widened and remained glued to my erection. My own eyes widened as I saw her lick her lips. Then she turned away and lay back down. I got the feeling she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of all this. I already had been doubting it.

This was my stepdaughter, for Christ's sake! What the hell was I thinking? I stood and walked up to the cabin with our clothes. I went into the coolness of the cabin and took a deep breath. I got a beer from the refrigerator and drank it down in several swallows. I burped. I looked down to the dock. Billie basked in the sunshine. The devil on one shoulder reminded me that she was no virgin, and had a strong curiosity about sex. The angel on the other side screamed that she was my stepdaughter. The two imps argued back and forth:

-- She wants it!

-- She's only eighteen!

-- She's beautiful! Look at that ass!

-- She trusts you. Won't this be a breach of trust?

-- Trust, shmust! She trusts you not to hurt her. Making love to her would be a good thing! If you don't fuck her, she'll feel rejected!

-- You are married! To her mother!

-- That bitch? She's probably getting laid somewhere right now!

-- Even if she is, it isn't the same. And it doesn't make this right!

-- It's just an expression of your love for her. Show her how much you love her.

-- If you love her you will turn away from this kind of thinking.

-- Bullshit! You can teach her so much more than she'll learn on her own-- at least for years.

-- Teach her, but not by demonstration.

-- Why not? It isn't incest! Not incest! Not incest!

-- ...........

The angel had no reply for that. She was a woman and I was a man. She isn't my daughter, I'm only married to her mother. We do love each other. Finally the angel spoke up again, but only in a whisper as he faded out:

-- Talk to her first. Tell her you are doing this out of love, and for her own good.

I got out two more beers and slipped them into beer cozies. Naked as a newborn, and with my own towel in hand, I returned to the dock. At least my dick had subsided -- for now. We sunbathed for a while. She handed me the lotion and I rubbed some more on her back. I deliberately continued down and lotioned her delicious ass cheeks. She groaned and moved her legs a little apart. I was careful when I got to the junction of her thighs and ass. I slipped my hand down between her thighs, but made sure I didn't touch her cunt lips. I smiled to myself, knowing that I was teasing her.

I lay down and told her it was her turn to do my back. She rose to her knees at my head and began a little teasing of her own. Her crotch was right in front of my eyes. It was hot and she was sweating. She emanated the coconut aroma of the lotion. Beneath that, however, I could smell her musky, natural scent. My dick got hard again against the boards of the dock. She massaged the lotion into my shoulders. She moved then to my side and covered my back and my ass, then down my legs. She was as careful as I had been.

"Why did you shave your pubic hair?" I asked her. I'd been staring at her beautiful flower while she rubbed me.

"Most of the girls do these days, Daddy. Sheila says it makes sex better. I don't know about that. I hadn't shaved when Dave fucked me. Some girls just do it because it seems more attractive. Do you like it better shaved or hairy?"

"Definitely shaved," I replied. "It does make sex better. Especially oral sex for the guys. I always hated getting a hair stuck in the back of my throat." She laughed at that. "It's even better when both partners are shaved," I added. She glanced at me and saw I was serious.

"Is that from experience, or did you just read that somewhere?"

"I've shaved before. All last year I stayed hairless. I just got tired of the hassle and let it grow back." We launched into a discussion of shaving versus waxing or something called sugaring (I've never done either of those), how to do it best, how to avoid the bumps and rash.

"It's hard for me to get it all," she complained. "There's always some stubble down there, toward my ass."

"You could ask Sheila or somebody to help you," I suggested, knowing where I was going. She took the bait -- or maybe it was me on the hook.

"Could you help me?" she asked in a feigned innocent voice. "If you want to shave too, I can help do you, too."

"We'll see," I said. She turned over to sun her tits and belly. She handed me the tube of lotion again. I hesitated before I took it. She grinned at me, took my hand and slapped the lotion into it. "You can reach everything in front yourself, you know," I said sarcastically.

"It will be more fun if you do it, though," she said. She sat up and took a drink of her beer, burped a very unladylike belch and lay back down. I took a deep breath and began to play with my stepdaughter's tits. She spread her legs, wanting me to rub some on her cunt. I shook my head, but didn't explain why I wouldn't. I told her not to rub any lotion there herself, either.

We lay in the sun a while longer. I know she was disappointed that I didn't let her rub my front. But I insisted that she didn't. All the lotion did was to serve as a device to fondle each other, after all. As I said, the sun was almost down. When we finished our beers, I stood up and told her we should go in. She was ready, too. We walked hand in hand off the dock and up the path to the cabin. I opened the door and held it for her. She slid her hand across my belly as she walked inside. The wooden screen door slammed and we were inside. Billie crossed to the bathroom. She left the door open and in a second I heard the unmistakable sound of her peeing. Somehow it was sexy to me. By then, everything held a sexual meaning for me where she was concerned.

I was nervous. Somewhere between rising from the dock and the cabin the momentum had been lost. I grabbed another beer for myself and a pair of steaks from the fridge. Billie came out of the bathroom I asked her to season the meat while I went out to light the barbecue. When I came back she was building a salad so I set about scrubbing the potatoes. It was slightly bizarre, doing all these everyday things with her while we were both nude. We occasionally bumped hips or arms -- the kitchen corner of the large room wasn't itself very roomy. When she needed to rinse the cutting board, I was using the sink. She casually slapped me on my ass and told me gruffly to move.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "Knock that shit off or you'll get a spanking of your own!"

"Yeah? From who?"

"Whom! From me, that's who! Or is that 'whom', too?"

"Whom cares? You can't spank me these days, I'm too strong for you." She wasn't looking at me when she said that. I reached down and smacked her cute little ass sharply. A CRACK! echoed in the air followed by a shriek from Billie. She dropped the board in the sink and came at me.

It was really no contest, and the only reason she had challenged me in the first place was to get us into physical contact again. We both knew it. Nevertheless, I grabbed her hands and twisted her into a bear hug, her back pressed up against me, her ass cheeks sandwiching my erection. When I felt the heat between her cheeks all the struggling stopped. I released her arms but she didn't move. I ran my hands down her sides and back up to cup her breasts, the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I dipped my head to kiss her neck and was rewarded with a sigh and her hands caressing the sides of my thighs.

She turned to me and pressed herself against me. We kissed like adults for the first time then. She accepted my tongue and sucked it hungrily. Her hands squeezed and caressed my ass and I happily returned that favor. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I cupped her ass, lifting her from her feet. Her legs wrapped around my waist and the tip of my dick felt the delicious slickness of her crotch. I carried her to my bed and lowered her to the floor and her feet once more. As she descended, my cock, which had been released on the upward trip, caught in the embrace of her crotch. She grinned at me and squeezed her thighs together. Then she fell backward onto the bed. My cock sprang free and plopped up against my belly.

I bent down and kissed her in the center of her crotch. Then I let her feel my tongue inside her (She was startled when I slipped a finger back and rubbed her asshole, but she liked that, too.). She didn't mind the taste of her juices in my kiss. She didn't reach orgasm from my mouth, but she would another time.

For her part, she wanted to feel a cock in her mouth and I was more than happy to provide mine as a study device. I told her what I liked and how to do it. She really didn't need much instruction. When my orgasm approached I warned her. She did what I suggested and lifted her head and stroked me until I shot my load. Her eyes never left off watching while the throbbing subsided and my cum just oozed down over her hand. "Most guys like it if you swallow their cum, or at least take it in your mouth," I told her. "But I suppose it's an acquired taste. I don't care for the taste of mine, unless it's mixed with pussy juice."

She looked surprised at first, but she was nothing if not game. She reached out and licked some of the milky goo from the tip of my dick. I was so sensitive right then that it felt like electricity to me. After she savored that first drop, she began to lick both my cock and her hand until we were both cleaned off. I pulled her up to kiss me and she sighed. Then I rolled her over on her belly. "What are you...?" she began, but she soon realized what I was doing. I pressed my hand to the small of her back and held her legs down with one of mine. I began to swat her.

"Ow!... Ow, dammit! Daddy! Come on! I was just kidding!" But I continued to swat her ass. While I spanked her I told her that she was never to forget that I was the boss. After twenty or so strokes, she was getting into it. She laughed and wiggled her butt, telling me to swat harder. My cock had recovered and I knew she wanted to get fucked. There was just one other thing I wanted to play around the edges of first.

I released her but didn't let her roll over yet. I moved around and lowered my head to her ass. Pressing her legs apart, I kissed her tiny anus. She gasped and tensed, then relaxed. She raised her hips up until she was on her shoulders and her knees. She spread her knees as far as she could then reached back to pry those luscious cheeks apart. There she was, totally exposed to me. I made love to her ass with my mouth and tongue. I built gradually until I was tongue fucking her ass. Her breathing speed increased and she began to gasp. After a few more minutes, her whole body tensed in orgasm. Her sphincter clutched my tongue painfully, but I kept wiggling it as she came. When she calmed down I pulled my tongue out and she collapsed to her side.

She looked at me with wonder. "I never thought...I mean, my ass, for crying out loud! I didn't cum when you ate my pussy. How come your tongue in my ass made me cum?" It turned out that, while she had heard of anal sex, she just thought it was something gay guys indulged in. She had never thought a man would put his tongue in there. Or his cock.

"Did you like it?" I asked with innocence.

"Shit, YES!" she roared. Then she pushed me to my back and straddled me. I felt the juices making my hardon slippery down there. I pulled her forward and tipped my pelvis to angle my cock toward her tight cunt. She started to reach down to guide me, but I held her hands. After only a little searching, I felt the tip of my cock begin to enter her. Her eyes got big again and she began to aid me by wiggling her own hips back and forth. I had never been in a cunt that tight. I'd never had a virgin, nor a partner this newly deflowered. It was almost as tight as her mother's ass -- at least the way I remembered it. We'd only had ass sex once, and that was five years earlier.

Finally I was all the way inside her. She breathed slowly and told me that she hadn't been sure it would all go in. Apparently Dave hadn't been well endowed. I don't think I'm overly large, but it boosted my ego to know I had the biggest dick she had seen yet. We lay there kissing for a while. She rocked on top of me, feeling my length pressing the sides of her passage. After ten minutes of that she began to rock faster. She sat up and slid rapidly back and forth until she burst into another strong orgasm.

"Did you come?" she asked. I told her I hadn't. This surprised her, too. Dave's cock had lasted a matter of a few minutes before it shriveled and flopped out of her (and out of the condom). We rolled over. I lifted her legs up so my cock would come into contact with her G-spot. I gently felt around inside her until she jumped and gasped. "That felt like a shock!" I knew I'd found it.

I moved ever so slightly in the same area as I explained what it was. She said she'd heard about it. Then she began to join me in that age-old dance. Between stroking her G-spot and pinching her nipples, I brought her through four more orgasms. Then I went for my own. She was now so used to the size of my cock, and so well lubricated that I increased my strokes, both in length and strength. I let go of her legs and she wrapped them around my hips to anchor herself. The sharp sound of our groins slapping together was loud in the room. She began to groan and whimper again as another orgasm threatened. I felt mine building again. I released my control into the feeling of rapture. I roared out my pleasure as we came in tandem. I emptied myself into her and kept stroking until all my strength had drained from me. I lay forward on her, lifting one leg over her hip to take some of my weight off. I nuzzled into her neck and I swear she purred. I fell into a dreamless sleep.

By the time I woke up it was fully dark. I raised up off her and her eyes flickered open. She smiled the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. I returned it. My cock, incredibly, was still inside her. It hadn't shrunk completely, maybe because she had been so tight. I gave her a couple of strokes. She was willing to go another round, but I was ravenously hungry. When I mentioned food she realized she, herself was starved. We separated reluctantly. I was stiff. We went to the bathroom and slipped into and out of the shower, taking just enough time to rinse off. It was still warm, so we didn't bother to dry off.

The charcoal was nothing but ash, of course, so I lit a new batch. While they got ready we ate our salads. We didn't talk much, but whenever I raised my eyes, she was looking at me. There were a lot of warm smiles passed between us. After dinner we played some more backgammon. When we went to bed, she slept next to me.

The only time we put our clothes on the rest of the week was when we had to go to the store to buy more beer. Billie didn't get drunk again, even though I gave her free rein with the beer. We swam and fished, made love and talked. The night before we were to go back home, I decided it was time to broach the subject of how things would have to be when we got home.

"You know we are going to have to be careful at home," I told her. "As much as I hate to say it, we probably shouldn't make love again when we leave here."

She nodded as she replied, "I was thinking that, too, at least not if there is any chance we'll be caught. I don't know what Mom or Allie would do if they found out."

"I know what your mom would do. She'd have my balls. We even have to be careful how we show affection. I mean we can still snuggle on the couch like always. Hugs and kisses -- on the cheek -- are okay. We've always done that." I regretted that it had to be this way, I told her. She was wise enough to know that nobody, not just her mother and sister could know. Anybody else would think we had committed some mortal sin. "You especially can't tell Sheila." I knew that disappointed her. She was aching to brag to her friend.

"It could just be that we will never have the opportunity to make love again," I said quietly. She grasped my arm. We were sitting on the porch swing when we had this conversation. She turned and buried her face in the hair of my chest. She held on to me as if she was drowning and I was her life preserver. "Don't say that, Daddy!" I petted her hair and patted her naked hip. I told her that she had her whole life ahead and lots of guys to meet, as well as maybe one (hopefully only one) to marry. "I can't think about that now," she wailed. "All I want to do is stay here in the woods with you."




On the Rocks



"You know we can't. It's a great fantasy, but that's all. Besides, you'd get tired of me and kick my ass out when I got old."

"Older," she said with a grin. I poked her in the ribs and we threatened to ruin the swing with our wrestling. I pulled her to her feet and we went inside to make dinner. We made slow careful love that night, right up until the end when we rocked and rolled like wild animals. I rubbed her sweat covered back until she went to sleep. I lay awake a long time before sleep took me. I looked everywhere inside my conscience. Search as I might, I could find no trace of guilt.

There was little conversation during the drive back home. As I pulled into the driveway I saw that Shelley's car wasn't there. I opened the door and called out but there was no answer. Apparently Allie had not yet returned from camp. I checked the schedule on the fridge and saw that she wasn't due until 9:00 that night. When I turned around I saw the note on the table.

"Dear Pete:" it began. "You know as well as I do that things haven't been right between us for a long time. The girls hate me and I know you must, too. I was happy with you at first, and I know it isn't you that makes me unhappy now. It's something inside me that will never, I think, be satisfied with what I have.

"I'm such a coward that I can't even face the girls to tell them that I love them, but I can't live with them -- or you -- any more. They love you more than me anyway, and I know you'll be good to them. You'll all be much happier with me out of the picture.

"I won't tell you where I'm going, but I have a good job there. I'll send money through a remailing service to help out. Even if you divorce me like I expect you to do. I don't know how to close this letter. I don't think I love you any more than you love me by now. Take care of them and yourself.

Shelley"

Beneath the note was a typed sheet. It was a letter granting me formal permission to seek medical treatment for Allie (since Billie was eighteen, she was technically an adult). There was also a money order. I realized the amount was just half of what Shelley's paycheck would have been that day. She was showing more consideration than I would have expected. I almost felt sad she was gone.

I collapsed into the chair by the dinner table. This was a shock. I realized that under the anger I was feeling at her desertion of her children was a profound relief. Now I had to figure out how to tell Billie, and later, Allie. Just then Billie wandered out of the hallway. She had gone to her room, tired, but alive. Now she looked like a shellshock victim. She had a piece of the same notepad in her hand. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

I gathered her to me and we sat there in the dining room. Her note from Shelley said pretty much the same thing mine did. I wondered if she had left one for Allie, too. I eased Billie from my lap and stood up. In Allie's room there was a similar note on the pillow. I read it. The only difference was that she had urged her younger daughter to take good care of me when Billie went off to college.

We pulled ourselves together and agreed we had to be strong for her sister. It was likely to hit her the worst. The mood was gray that evening, but I still sensed a relief in Billie similar to mine. It would have felt wrong somehow to speak of it yet, though.

When Allie came home I sat her down on the couch. I told her the situation and handed her the note. She read it silently, frowning. When she looked up at Billie and me her face smoothed out. Then she broke into a big grin! "Great! Now maybe we can have some fun around here again." I looked at Billie and she looked at me. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. Then her lips curled into a smile. I felt my own mouth bending into the same expression. I hoped Billie wasn't readjusting our relationship and the agreements we made last night. I still intended to maintain a careful discretion between us for Allie's sake.

We walked down to the ice cream parlor on the next block for a late treat. I hadn't seen Allie so animated and truly happy for a long time. I realized it must have been the hardest on her of all of us. She was just now barely thirteen. Billie had been the one to help her through her first menstruation, not me. I was glad of that. It was difficult enough for me with Billie. Allie and I didn't have the rapport that Billie and I did when she was the same age.

At home, Allie emptied her backpack in the laundry room, then went upstairs to shower. Billie and I sat side by side on the couch in the living room. We held hands, but kept a space between us. It was all too much to absorb. First becoming sexually involved with my stepdaughter, then finding myself separated and a single dad all at once. I couldn't imagine how Billie was feeling. I looked at her. When she turned to me, she fell into my lap and sobbed for a long time. I was still sitting there rubbing her back when Allie padded into the room silently. She went to her knees and hugged her sister and my legs at the same time.

"It's okay Beebee," she said in her little sister voice, "We're still a family. Mom needed to be happy, too. Now we can all be happy." That, I realized, was the bottom line. I stroked my daughters' hair as the night deepened.



On the Rocks



Living alone has its perks. I can lounge around all day without showering, eat whatever I want, and toss my clothes on the floor without worrying about cleaning it up later. I was living the good life in my downtown apartment, only a bus ride from my University, and…say about 30 steps to my job. You see, I live in a flat above a café called On the Rocks; a trendy place where Toronto's finest sip on lattés and nibble on brownies, a la mode. I work as a waiter, catering these fine delicacies to composed men and gorgeous women, who lick their lips when I approach with my serving tray. The women alone are better than the tips I receive which, being an upscale establishment, are quite nice indeed. 

I woke up from my snooze as I heard a sharp rap at my white wood door. A hoarse voice followed soon after.

"Mike! Eh, Mike! Your shift started 15 minutes ago, get down here!" said the angry voice of my boss, Joey Cardone. Joey had a voice that could make a grown man cry if he had wanted to, but working for him for the past year had lead me to realize that his bark is much worse than his bite.

"I'm coming Joe," I yawned in the general direction of the door. I stood up, and groggily shuffled towards the door. To make things perfectly clear, no one wants to wake up seeing Joey Cardone's face. His mid 40's face had dark bags under his eyes, and his teeth were yellowed from 30 years of smoking. His hair, though still black, was beginning to thin at the back, and the constant nurturing of a pot belly gave his jeans a real run for their money. Rootbeer and I have a running bet going on how many buttons he pops in a year. The count's at 44 on today, the first of June 2007. I still need another 76 to go before New Year's, or I'm out 300 clams. Oh that's right, I haven't introduced Rootbeer yet. Nick "Rootbeer" Racinette is the head chef at On the Rocks. Rootbeer has been working there since the place opened, and has won numerous awards for his amazing desserts. His most famous would have to be his ice-cream float, hence his nickname.

 As I opened the door, Joey bumped passed me into my apartment.

"Holy shit, this place is a complete mess! Boy, didn't your mother ever teach you to clean? How fucking hard is it to pick up a god damn vacuum!" While this display of temper might have once shocked me, I now stared at my boss as if he was giving me a boring lecture on the mating habits of the Galapagos turtle. Even the most brutal of Joe Cardone's rants could make me yawn. He did have a point though. My room looked like a tornado had passed through it, and smelt of dirty laundry and decomposing pizza. Visitors wrinkled their noses, but I guess I had adapted to the smell. 

"I'll clean it up tomorrow," I promised him. "Just let me find my work clothes." After fumbling around for a few minutes, I pulled on a black pair of Dockers work pants and a clean white t-shirt. I walked to the washroom and stared back at the figure in the mirror. I thought I was always a decent looking guy. Not the one that got laid at every party he went to, but still managed to date some pretty ladies. The face that stared back at me was a 5'10 clean shaven man of 20 with short brown hair and a skinny body. Don't get me wrong though, even though I was skinny I still worked out. I had rock solid abs, and some decent biceps and quads from playing hours and hours of hockey and soccer. Stepping on the scale I frowned at a measly 150 pounds. I swear, I have a non-existent metabolism. I don't even think the food digests; it just goes straight from my mouth out my ass. Glancing at my watch, I was surprised to see that it was almost 9:00 PM. I had slept through the whole day, and the night time rush was about to begin. I could already hear the door begin to chime as couples, hand in hand, came looking for a table. I quickly rushed out my front door, down the stairs until I came to the entrance of the restaurant. Walking in, the smell of ice cream and coffee hit me, and I realized why I loved this place. The atmosphere is incredible. Already the tables began to get packed. I nodded at Rootbeer who, standing at 6 feet tall, was already attracting the eyes of women everywhere. I couldn't blame them. Rootbeer was an incredibly handsome Greek god. His short black hair matched perfectly with his strong chin, and his hours at the gym could really be seen through his slim white t-shirt. I was already starting to get jealous as I tied on my apron. Rootbeer would be, as usual, driving home with a gorgeous stranger sitting in the passenger seat when the night has ended, while I would be moseying back upstairs to make myself a quick bite to eat before I watched the highlights of the Toronto Blue Jays game.

As I scanned the restaurant for people who haven't been served yet, I caught the eye of Melinda, the only waiter at the place, other than me of course. Good ol' Joey had scared off the last 3 waiters, leaving the place (and the tips) for us to share. It also meant that we worked harder than ever, and Melinda barely gave me a second glance as she bent down to grab some menus for the customers that just walked in. At 5'5 Melinda was petite, but while she wore her gorgeous black leather pumps it could hardly be noticed. Her chestnut brown hair tumbled lightly onto her shoulders, falling just short of her amazing breasts, which on numerous occasions I would imagine squeezing gently, generously sized in my hands. Her body smelled of strong cinnamon, an allusion to the wild passion that undoubtedly ran through her veins. In short she could turn heads, and would as often as possible. As she bent down, rummaging through menus, I noticed a black Brazilian thong peaking out from her tight black skirt. I felt a light twinge in my pants, and stared for a few more seconds until I realized that a couple was ready to have their order taken. Composing myself, I approached the two and spoke a very well rehearsed line.

"Good Evening, Madame et Monsieur, and welcome to On the Rocks. Can I get you a drink to start your evening together?"

Corny, I know, and the French brings it over the top, but when you're exceptionally friendly with the customers, there's an exceptionally larger change that you're going to walk away with a larger tip. This guy looked like a big tipper. His wife sported Tiffany's diamonds in her lobes and a sexy Dolce and Gabbana purse. He himself wore an Armani jacket, and I noted the sparkle of a Rolex under his sleeve. Jackpot.

"Yes," he said importantly, as I imagined the tip that was going to be left on the table, "We'll start a bottle of your finest Chardonnay, and we'll both share an ice cream sundae."

"Sounds like a celebration," I said, feigning interest.

"It is," his wife exclaimed. "We're celebrating our second anniversary." That was the first time that I had given her a good look. The woman sitting across from her husband was absolutely gorgeous. Where he was an older gentleman, with a receding hairline and a belly filled with expensive caviar, she was at least 20 years his junior. Her blonde hair had a tinge of red, and it resembled liquid gold flowing off her head. Her breasts, though obviously fake for such a slender, fit woman, looked absolutely fantastic. Obviously Mr. Hubby could afford the best of plastic surgeons. Her nails were a shade of deep red, and her long, silky legs were covered by the thinnest of fishnet stockings. Her red dress pulled tight against her curvy body, and a gorgeous pink pearl necklace was the cherry on top. I even detected a light fragrance of vanilla radiating off her body. Thank God I was wearing an apron because if I didn't, I would have been trying to explain a massive hard-on to a disgusted wife and husband. I managed to stammer out an answer.

 "Alright, just give me a minute, and I'll get you two your wine." I said, taking a few steps back and turning on my heel. I heard a quiet giggle which stopped rather abruptly. I walked rather quickly into the kitchen, where I saw Rootbeer passionately kissing a drunken brunette. She was evidently oblivious to the icing sugar marks that Rootbeer was leaving on her black silk dress.

"Rootbeer!" I hissed. He detached himself from his catch of the day and came over.

"What is it bud?" he said, as he put his arm around me. I motioned over at the table to where Mrs. Gorgeous was sitting, trying to engage her husband in conversation. Her husband seemed to be paying more attention to his Palm Pilot than to the sexy piece of meat sitting in front of him!

"You think I have a chance?" I asked, in a business-like voice.

 "Dude, she's married." He told me, in his matter-of-fact voice. I looked over at her; she had obviously given up on trying to speak with her husband, who was now on the phone with some big-shot business buddy.

"But she's so unhappy! If I was over there, I would be making out with her already!" I protested.

"It doesn't change the fact that if you sleep with her, her husband will hire the mob to kill you."

I left Rootbeer to his bimbo as I went to our wine cellar, and pulled out a bottle of our oldest Chardonnay. I wiped the dusty bottle dry as I uncorked it, getting ready to bring it to their table. Walking back with two wine glasses and an expensive bottle of Chardonnay was dangerous at On the Rocks. There were always banana peels from splits tossed around the kitchens, spilt butterscotch, ice, and all sorts of objects that can trip a guy up. I really didn't want Joey on my case right now, screaming at me to replace that bottle immediately, if not sooner. As I walked up to their table and poured two glasses, I spoke only one word. Enjoy. Mrs. Gorgeous gave me a warm, inviting smile, but Mr. Business only gave a gorilla-like grunt. I bid a hasty retreat. 

The next few hours passed by in a blur. The rush kicked in about 30 minutes after I served them their wine, and we were all caught totally unprepared. After the line piled up, for people to be served, Joey Cardone began to physically drag young couples, who had been making out at tables for hours, out of his café onto the street to make room for new ones. I had to lie to Joe numerous times that Mrs. Gorgeous and Mr. Business were regulars, and it wouldn't be good for our image if we hoofed them out. I certainly didn't want to leave Mrs. Gorgeous behind just yet, seeing as how I was serving them bottle after bottle of fine wine. Melinda and I were both red in the face, frantically scrambling for menus, wine and dessert. I felt sorriest for Rootbeer however who, on top of making a dessert every three minutes, was being screamed at by his blonde companion for 30 dollars to pay for her dry-cleaning. He looked like he was about to crack. About two hours later the restaurant was almost empty. Melinda had went to the back room to do inventory and Joey was sitting at a bar stool, pouring shots for Rootbeer and himself. If alcohol did anything for Joey Cardone, it calmed him down when his blood pressure was exceedingly high. When we still had many customers after last call…well, let's just say that the cops have given our restaurant enough warnings.

Mrs. Gorgeous was completely drunk. Her husband had gone to the bathroom, and she was slumped very low in her booth. I looked around for signs of Mr. Business. Summoning up all my courage, I sat down across from her. Her eyelids fluttered open, and gave me a piercing look. Praying to god that what I was about to do was a good sign, I spoke.

"You don't have to be treated like that," I said to her drunken figure.

"Yes I do," she replied simply. "He's my husband, and he's important."

"Husband or not, a man shouldn't treat a woman like how he treated you. He should have been paying more attention to you. And who cares if he's important? You should be the number one priority in his life."

She shuddered. "I guess you're right," she said, as a tear began to roll down her eye. Fuck. This isn't what was supposed to happen. I didn't try and make her cry, I was trying to cheer her up! My mind raced for something to say, but I drew a blank. This opportunity was going down the tube.

"I need to go freshen up," she said suddenly, and half rose, half stumbled out of the booth. I couldn't do anything but watch her shuffle away. Now it was my turn to slouch down into the booth, until Joey screamed at me to do some work. I grabbed a cloth from the kitchen and began to wipe down the empty tables, long deserted by couples who were certainly getting jiggy right about now. As I began to wipe my second table, I heard a piercing scream from the washrooms. I dropped the cloth and sprinted in the direction of the facilities. Joey and Rootbeer, both being closer, were ahead of me, but stopped in their tracks so quickly that I slammed into Rootbeer and crumpled to the ground. I got up hastily, and gaped at what I saw. Melinda and Mr. Business were hastily pulling up their undergarments and pulling on their shirts. Mrs. Gorgeous looked absolutely livid, but looked so good while she screamed at her husband.

"Why would you fuck this little whore, Harold, and not your own wife? I'm a hundred times sexier than this bitch is! She doesn't even have long legs!" she sobbed and screamed at the same time. Mr. Business (who I should be calling Harold) mumbled something under his breath, but couldn't say much before Mrs. Gorgeous began to yell again.

"I don't care that you were getting bored! We are fucking MARRIED!" she shrieked. Harold gently grasped her wrist, muttering something about leaving. She yanked her hand out of his grasp, and slapped him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you! I'll get home by myself!" she yelled, as he left as fast as he could. I saw him drop a hundred down on the table where they had sat, even though I remembered their tab to be more than 200 dollars. It looked as if I wouldn't be getting that tip after all. Joey fired Melinda on the spot, who walked out in a huff, and turned back on me and Rootbeer. He politely told us to "Get back to fucking work, before I rip off your fucking nuts," and so we did. I resumed cleaning off the tables, sweeping, and brining the dishes back for Rootbeer to wash, as Joey was serving Mrs. Gorgeous, whose name was Ariel, a piping hot cup of tea, which seemed to sober her up. As she saw that we were ready to close up, she picked up her purse and glanced at the hundred dollars Harold had left, alongside their bill. Staring at it for a few seconds, she looked up fearfully at Joey, knowing full well that she didn't have enough to pay for the rest of their meal. I flinched, anticipating Joey's primal rage to materialize, but oddly enough it didn't.

"You've been though enough tonight," he said kindly. "Go home and get some sleep." Rootbeer and I gaped at Joey until he turned on us, scowled, and told us to get the fuck out of his restaurant. I was taking off my apron as I watched Ariel walk out the front door into the warm summer night. I must have been staring at the door for several minutes, because Rootbeer told me that if I hurried, I could catch her before she got on the bus. I ran like the wind.

Out of breath, I caught sight of a red dress and tore after it. I yelled as loud as I could.

"Oi! Ariel!" That got her to turn around, as I jogged up to her.

"Where are you going to spend the night?" I asked kindly.

"At home," she replied. I was flabbergasted. How could this woman return home to a man who had just cheated on her? I asked her that question, and was surprised to hear her answer.

 "I have no where to go, no money, no relatives in Toronto, I'm all alone!" she sobbed. I knew that this was my chance, and I prayed to God, Allah, Satan, and whoever the fuck else would let me bring this girl home. After a few minutes of mumbling, I popped the question. She seemed very surprised.

"With you? Are you sure that's ok? I really wouldn't want to impose." She said.

"Please don't worry about it," I smiled. "You can have the bed; I'll sleep on the floor. It's the least I can do for such a horrible night." I wheedled. She finally nodded her head in agreement, and a marching band played inside my head in celebration, but oddly enough it had nothing to do with getting laid. I genuinely felt happy that I could help this poor girl in any way I could. It was such a wonderful feeling, I felt like her knight in shining armor. The feeling lasted until we arrived at my front door. Suddenly I realized what was behind this door. A sea of dirty laundry, empty bags of chips, pizza boxes, my TiVo recording the game, the list went on and on. She's either going to think that my house got sacked, or that I was the last living Neanderthal man. She however, breathed a sigh of relief when I opened the door. I must have had my mouth dropped to the floor, because she laughed.

"At our house, Harold always has everything neat and tidy, and the maids clean up everything. It's relaxing to know that you aren't a neat freak." She laughed.

"No, I'm just the slob next door," I replied gloomily. She saw that I was upset, and told me that she didn't mind at all. In fact, it got her mind off Harold. I invited her to take a seat on the couch and watch the game as I went into the bedroom to prepare it for a lady. I put all the clothes into a hamper, changed the sheets, and lit two lavender candles so she could relax in peace. When I came back into the living room to announce her room was ready, she was no longer there. For a few seconds I thought she had left, until I saw the light shining from under the bathroom door. I sat down on the couch, and watched the next few minutes of the game. Bottom of the 7th with the Jays at bat, I didn't even notice Ariel crawl over the couch to sit beside me until I felt her leg brush against mine. I looked over at her, and saw that she had taken off her dress and put on one of my old t-shirts. I probed my mind, asking myself how long I had left that shirt in the bathroom, and while I was debating between 4 hours and 3 months, Ariel leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

I was completely shocked. The kiss itself wasn't passionate, but it was warm and long. Our lips were locked together for a good ten seconds, and I could feel the warm flush creeping across her face. As she pulled away, the look she gave me was one of pure horror.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," she whispered, mortified. I managed to stammer out a response.

 "It's, its fine. You've just had a rough night." I replied, not being able to keep my eyes of her chest. Her nipples were almost popping out of her shirt. The fleeting smell of vanilla I had detected in the restaurant was now a heated mixture of human sweat and the former. It smelt of passion waiting to be unleashed onto the world.

"Maybe I should," It was all I managed to get out before she kissed me again. This time I felt her mouth open, and mine automatically did the same. I kissed her again and again, feeling her suck on my lower lip as I slid my tongue deep inside her mouth. Her tongue joined mine and we began a dance in our mouths that seemingly lasted for hours. Her hands flew to my chest and began to caress my body through my t-shirt, still kissing me wildly. I lifted my arms and my shirt was on the floor, instantly camouflaging itself with the rest of my dirty laundry. The close game didn't matter anymore as Ariel's mouth sucked on mine. As she fumbled with my belt buckle, I began to lift her shirt from the back. The cotton material slid up her sexy spine, revealing the tip of a pink satin thong. As I pulled it over her head, she finally managed to get my pants down, and quickly stripped me of my boxers. Wildly we attacked each other, embracing one another in a tight hug, still kissing. I could feel her body warmth on my skin. Her body was so soft and smooth, there wasn't a hair on her anywhere, it was akin to being rubbed with silk. I lay back onto the couch as she slid up onto my chest. I could feel the wetness of her sex on my body, as it oozed closer and closer to my mouth. Her lips were fully flowered, revealing her pink pussy to my hungry eyes. I couldn't wait any longer, and I grabbed the backside of her thighs and pushed her beautiful pussy right into my waiting tongue. Not to brag or anything, but I am an absolute master of cunnilingus. My tongue boldly goes where no tongue has gone before, and my girlfriends had loved me for it. Ariel was no different, and as I began to work her clit into a frenzy, she tossed her golden hair back and began to moan. It was the sexiest sound I had ever heard, which pushed my tongue harder and harder into her clit. Her moan grew louder and louder until her body began to erupt in violent spasms. She arched her hips as orgasm after orgasm took her, and her warm secretion flowed freely onto my face and neck. Her moans grew softer and softer until they became a low purr, and I noticed a fire in her eyes I had not seen before. 




On the Rocks



Before I could react, she swung my legs into a sitting position, and pounced off the couch onto the floor, staring hungrily at my member. It stood completely erect at seven and a half inches, uncut. She took my cock in an iron grip, and I began to moan quietly as she began to stroke my shaft faster and faster. I could feel the foreskin moving at a rapid pace over the head of my cock. I let my neck fall back in a moment of pure ecstasy. I was about to come when suddenly my dick was engulfed in something very warm and wet, and the pace had changed from lightning quick, to slow and sensuous. Ariel's full lips had taken my cock into her mouth. I could feel her tongue flicking at my head as she bobbed up and down on my shaft, while slowly stroking the base with her right hand. I was in absolute heaven, as this gorgeous woman sucked on my cock. I weaved my fingers through her hair as I moved her head forwards and backwards. My eyes rolled into the back of their sockets as I announced that I was about to blow my load."

"Oh god Ariel, I'm gonna cum!" I moaned, and expecting her to pull out began to suck harder and faster. Her hand began to move like a piston up and down my shaft, and I could see the outline of my cock hitting her cheek as she bobbed. It was too much for me to bear, and I blew my entire load in her mouth. I felt streams after streams of cum explode from the tip of my cock right into the back of her sexy little throat. Never missing a beat, Ariel managed to swallow almost the whole thing. As I pulled out of her mouth, only small droplets remained in her mouth as she licked her lips seductively.

"Ariel, that was just fantastic." I breathed. I didn't think I had ever come that much in my entire life. It was the best orgasm I had ever had. My dick began to soften even as I said it, but Ariel again jumped back onto the couch and began to stroke my flaccid penis quickly.

"You don't think I'm finished with you yet, do you?" she said smugly, her eyes burning with passion as her hand managed to harden my penis almost instantly. It was still wet and sticky with a hybrid mixture of my semen and her saliva, but that didn't stop her from straddling me. She squatted above my hardened cock, teasing me as she would let the head go in, but then pull out. I couldn't take this little cock tease, so I thrust my cock upward into her wet, waiting pussy. I could tell I had done the right thing, because once I was ball-deep inside of her, she almost screamed. I was in absolute shock about the tightness of Ariel's pussy. It was as if dear ol' Harold had never stuck it to his wife on their honeymoon. I could feel the walls of her snatch tightening up on my cock as she rode my shaft up and down, tweaking my nipples with her free hand.

A few moments later I sat up, and pushed Ariel onto her back, and began to thrust in and out of her sex. She grabbed my back and held me in a tight bear hug, attempting to push me in even deeper than I already was. I could feel the marks her nails were leaving in my back as I continued to fuck this gorgeous woman. Her moans became wails as I pushed faster and harder inside her. As I felt her pelvic muscles clamp up again, I knew she was approaching her second orgasm of the night. Ariel began to shudder wildly.

"Jesus Christ Mike, I'm Cumming! FUCK I'M CUMMING!" she screamed as multiple orgasms rocked her body. She arched her hips as her face flushed; rocking her body with every spasm it gave her. She lifted her arms above her head, letting her body take control of her orgasms, as her urethra gushed a clear liquid onto my pelvis. It was too much for me as her cum dripped down onto my cock, and I began to cum as well.

"Oh God Ariel, I'm cumming too baby! I'm shooting my load into your tight CUNT!" I screamed the last word as for the second time in the night my cock exploded into this beautiful woman's pussy. I came for a good 20 seconds, and when my final drop of seed squeezed out of my dick, I collapsed into her waiting arms.

***

I must have passed out instantly after I came. Perhaps it was the fact that I hadn't eaten all day, or maybe it was the incredible orgasm that rocked my body. It didn't really matter though, because Ariel was long gone either way. After a quick search of the apartment, all I found was her thong and a short, hand written letter.

Dear Mike,

I want to tell you that I'm going back to my husband. Though he cheated on me, he's always provided for me an amazing life, to which I'm eternally grateful. I'm even more grateful to you however, Mike, as you showed me the pleasures of a forbidden relationship. Perhaps now we can mend this, or perhaps not. Only time will tell. I'll be over from time to time, to "catch up" on your life, so to speak. Much Love,

Ariel

I have to admit I was a little shocked that she had gone back to her husband, but I did realize that love ran deep, and a night of temptation would never be enough to make people change their feelings for their partners. Ariel had taught me an amazing life lesson, I realized as I sat on my couch. Who would have thought it? My train of thought was interrupted by a familiar rap on the door and a raspy voice.

"Mike! Get your fucking ass down here and serve some coffee. And if you ever make noise like that again during the night, I'll evict you so fast you won't have time to re-locate!"

I smiled. Some things would never change, but it's comforting to me that some things do.



On The Rocks



Something a little different. A few real events intertwined to make up the fictional romance.

---------------

I don't know how it was me who was selected to be the fourth member of the office staff who was to go to the exhibition. All I do know was that with the management going to deal with the joint unveiling of the new concept vehicle they needed someone else to go and make the rounds of all the contacts. I suppose I already knew a fair number of these, and so I was elected as one of them. With Wendy being selected as the other member of the team ahead of me, I expect the fact that I was more or less her self-elected bodyguard on these sorts of things practically guaranteed me the fourth spot. The management got to stay at the posh hotel, as guests of the manufacturers. Wendy and I got the rooms at the little out of the way place we had been using for the previous few years. It suited me, I'd been there before and like I said it was a little off the beaten track whilst still being almost right on top of the exhibition. The other bonus about the launch of the new vehicle was that we got to go for an extra night, four instead of three. Wendy and I travelled separately from the management, arriving mid-afternoon at the hotel. 

It had been a pleasant journey down. We had talked about the one or two other times we had been sent on business trips together, and the times we had spent in the same office, teaching one another things we knew about, filling in the blanks in each others knowledge. Basically we got to know one another again. We booked in and I got the room I had had before, a double with two single beds. Wendy got one of the rooms with a double bed. We were however right next to each other, which was handy. After I had unpacked I went to see if Wendy wanted to go and see how the exhibition set up was going. I knocked on the door and went in when she called. She was drying her hair in the bathroom and asked me to make us a drink. I was making us a cup of coffee each when her mobile rang.

"Answer it for me." She said. I did so; it was her boyfriend. I could tell he wasn't happy about something and handed her the phone as she came out of the en-suite bathroom, indicating I would leave if she wanted some privacy. She shook her head, so I continued to make the coffee. I heard her gasp, and turned around. Wendy had gone white, and was looking at her phone in a state of shock. I asked her what was the matter, and was stunned myself when she said. "He's says he's leaving."

"Are you sure?" It was all I could think of to say, as if anyone is going to misunderstand that sort of statement. Continuing on automatic I finished making coffee and handed her the cup with no sugar. She had dropped into a chair and numbly accepted the drink. I really didn't know what to do or say to her to be of any comfort. The only thing I could think of was to keep her mind occupied, and the only way to do that was to carry on and go down to the exhibition site and see how things were going.

Although it was only a short walk down to the site on the seafront, it seemed to take an eternity as I couldn't think of anything to say. Normally between the two of us we would have been swapping jokes or innuendoes, but suddenly this seemed inappropriate, and I was at a loss. I just hoped that the boss was on site and she could give me some ideas about how to keep Wendy on track. 

Down on the exhibition site I got lucky. The boss seemed to see that something was wrong with Wendy straightaway, and took her too one side. I filled in the other half of the management team and then got some words of advice from the boss. Then I took Wendy off down along the seafront with orders to be myself. Have you ever tried to be yourself? It's a very hard thing to do consciously. I managed to chat away about absolutely nothing at all, revealing more about my past than I ever intended until we reached the curve of the bay, where the waves were beginning to wash over the rocks. I stopped and started to climb over the rocks until I was close to where the sea was running in. Wendy called me to come back; I motioned her to follow me. A little hesitantly she took off her shoes and clambered over to where I was stood, watching the waves break over the shoreline around me. She put her hand into mine as if she needed reassurance that it was safe. The sight of the sea breaking over a rocky shoreline has always enraptured me, and I've always felt perfectly safe as long as I've kept my eyes on the rise of the tide. Wendy seemed a bit anxious. I looked around at her and told her not to worry; as long as she stood next to me she would be fine. "What did I mean?" She asked. I related a story of when my sister and I had both been sat on a rock, me on front, her behind, watching the waves crash in, when a bigger wave had broken over the rock, completely missing me, but soaking my sister. She laughed, and calmed down a little. Shortly I realised the tide was starting to rise and led her back to the promenade. We sat and watched the waves crashing in onto the rocky outcrop where we had been standing. Wendy cuddled up to me and sighed. Not for the first time I thought about how pretty she was, but quickly pushed the thought aside, now was not the time. 

"Come on." I said. "We're supposed to be meeting the management for dinner in an hour; we'd better go and get ready." I was about to start the walk back along the front when Wendy spotted the taxi rank and led me over to it. 

"Much quicker and a lot less tiring." She said.

The meal was almost like a rest for me, the management team keeping Wendy occupied, mainly with what we were supposed to be doing the following day. Wendy made notes, I just nodded a lot. Having attended the exhibition before I knew, or had an idea of what we could and couldn't accomplish and was at a loss to understand why we were being asked to see so many people. The boss looked across at me and winked, and I realised the whole program was entirely to give Wendy something to plan, both later tonight and in the morning. I relaxed and started to enjoy myself once more. Again, the thought struck me that Wendy was a very pretty girl, but I pushed the notion aside with a self-admonitory NO! Now is not the time. 

As we finished the meal, I asked Wendy if she wanted me to win her a cuddly toy from one of the many smash-and-grab machines dotted around the arcades. An hour and a half and nearly twenty quid later, I was ruing my rash promise that it would be easy. When I finally did hook a Garfield and drop it into the collection tray Wendy was even more excited than I was relieved. She hugged it tightly as we wandered our way back to the hotel, slipping her other arm through mine. She told me I should have given up after five pounds. I just shrugged, saying I always keep my promises. Getting back to the hotel, we had a couple of drinks before retiring to our separate rooms to get some rest before what was going to be a long day tomorrow, with the vehicle launch during the day. For the next few hours I wasn't going to be able to talk to Wendy, to keep her from thinking negative thoughts. I just hoped she would be able to get some sleep. I knew I needed some, but wasn't really expecting to get any, as I've always had trouble sleeping away from home the first night. Tomorrow would be another day. 

I did manage a few hours sleep, but woke up at some ridiculous hour again. This time it was about half past six. I lay awake for a good hour running through the day's possible problems. I don't know why I do this sort of thing, nothing ever pans out as I imagine. I got up and had a shower and a shave, then turned on the TV and had a look at the news. I had the sound turned right down as I was listening for some sign of movement from the room next door. Around eight I heard the shower running. When it stopped I picked up a couple of sachets of coffee and sugar. I went to her door and knocked. Wendy's voice seemed bright and cheery as she let me in. I made coffee as she dried her hair. I told her we had time for breakfast before we had to be down on the exhibition site. Neither of was hungry so we decided to make our way to the stand slightly earlier than required. There was a lot going on with people rushing about, making last minute adjustments, people checking on things that had to be done, people checking on people etc. I just stood and let things go on around me. Wendy, still believing in the instructions she had been given, began making notes, and was soon getting in the way. I pulled her to one side and got her to sit down out from under everybody's feet. We let the last minute preparations go on around us, until it was time for the grand unveiling. The boss stood up and introduced all the relevant people and then, taa-daa, the new vehicle was unleashed on the world. Forgive me if I sell it short, it truly is a remarkable vehicle, but I had seen it grow from a sketch on the back of a piece of scrap paper, and by now it was a case of same-old same-old. Still, she was well received and straightaway other concerns were interested. 

Wendy and I spent most of the morning helping answer questions, pointing out appropriate people to answer more detailed questions, and even fetching refreshments when we had to. By lunchtime the initial rush had subsided and we were able to go about our planned trawl through the exhibition to see what we could find. Of course Wendy had been checking the list of exhibitors against our list of things we 'must' find out about. I took the list from her hands, telling her lunch came first. We adjourned to a tavern on the seafront that was recommended as doing a good pub lunch. I just ordered a sandwich and a pint; Wendy had something like chicken in a basket. We settled down on a small outside table. I sat back and looked around, sipping at my drink. Wendy nibbled nervously at her meal. I asked her what the matter was. She looked up sharply. I realised what a dumb question that was. I decided it was time to tell her the truth. I explained we didn't have to go through the whole list of people to see, especially in one day. All we needed to do was wander around today, make contact with a few people, and just see if there was anything new we hadn't heard about that we could use. Quite a lot of our new initiatives had started like that over the past few years. I picked at her chicken as I talked.

"I see." She said. "All this is to keep me from thinking." 

I shrugged.

"I suppose that was the general idea, but we all know how hard it is not to think about, well you know, the break up of a long relationship." Just for a moment I thought she was going to slap me, and then she looked like she was going to burst into tears. I was completely at a loss as to what to do next. I couldn't bear to see her cry, so I shuffled around to her side and leant her head against my chest. "Cry on me if it will help." I murmured. 

She shook her head.

"No; he said he's going, so I'm not going to think of him and I'm not going to phone him either." I asked what she was going to do when she got back. She just shrugged. "I'll worry about that when we get home." I promised myself I would take her home personally, and not leave until she was sorted. She sat up and shook herself. "Come on, we've things to look at, and people to meet." I was about to say we didn't have to, when she smiled and said. "The sooner it's done, the sooner we get time to ourselves." I nodded in agreement, stood up and followed her back to the exhibition site.

We moved through the exhibitions for a good couple of hours, meeting with one or two people one or other of us had met before, exchanging ideas, talking and so on. We also had a look at a few new products, made a few notes so the boss could come and check them out. It was late afternoon when we found ourselves wandering along the short pier. Wendy motioned me towards a bench and we sat down and looked out over the bay. There were suddenly some things I needed to say to Wendy, but I was going to have to be careful about how I said them. I turned and started to speak, telling her how she had, however inadvertently, changed me. How I had been becoming more and more disinterested in my job, and how her arrival, with all her enthusiasm, had got me interested again, and, while I was never going to be as passionate as her, at least I was positive once again, and I thanked her for that. She smiled and gave me a hug and a kiss, telling me I was sweet. I didn't say anything, but my heart sank a little. 'Sweet' was not what a guy wanted to hear. It had overtones of 'nice', but I accepted it as it was meant, as a compliment, and said nothing but thanks. She got up and started to walk back to the exhibition, with me following. We made our way back to the stand and found the boss, who was by now looking a little harried. I let Wendy report on what we had found, and then, while she was finding the other half of the management team, I made my own report. The boss thanked me and said she was going to ask Wendy out for dinner that evening, so I was let off the hook for the night. I sighed thankfully, and then said I'd finish here if the others wanted to get away a little early. 

That meant I was one of the last to the leave the exhibition site that evening, and that Wendy had already left the hotel when I got back. I didn't mind that at all as I could feel myself falling for her and was finding it harder and harder to disguise this from her. I'd always felt mildly attracted to her, but this had been tempered by the knowledge that she was already seeing someone else, that she was unobtainable. Suddenly, this wasn't so anymore, and we were having to live and work in close proximity to each other, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help her as a friend, but there was this other feeling growing, this need for her, that I didn't know if I could control. I showered and had a quick meal in the hotel then slipped out for a drink or two. I meet a couple of acquaintances and talked to them for a while, promising to look them up in the morning, but I had no enthusiasm when they said they knew of a nightclub and bade them goodnight. I wandered down to the end of the bay again and sat and looked out over the waves crashing over the rocks and wondered what I was going to do. Tomorrow was Wendy's and my turn to man the stand for most of the day, and in the evening was the official launch party. I swore to myself that I would not have too much to drink and do something ridiculous, or embarrassing. As the sun sank and the sky turned darker, I heard a car stop behind me and someone got out. Suddenly Wendy was sitting beside me.

"The sunset looks lovely." She said.

I had to agree, it was a beautiful sunset.

"Almost as pretty as you." I said. She smiled and said thank you, kissing me on the cheek again. I asked her if she wanted to hit the arcades again. She shook her head, saying she just wanted a good night's sleep. I told her I couldn't guarantee that, but I could walk her back to the hotel. It was more of an amble than a walk, with Wendy holding tightly to my arm, her head on my shoulder. It took us nearly an hour to walk back to the hotel, and I couldn't help enjoying the feeling of Wendy by my side. By the time she left me to go to her own room I knew that it was too late, I was hooked. I sat on the bed and worried. 

The following morning was dull and wet. There were not as many people prepared to wander around the outdoor part of the exhibition so Wendy and I were not kept very busy. The management came up and asked us about who was here, where they were, that sort of thing. By lunchtime it was obvious that it didn't need both of us on the stand with all the people from the other half of the joint venture as well. I told Wendy that she may as well go back to the hotel, or call the boss and join up with her for the afternoon. She said that she thought she might go back to the hotel as there were a couple of things she wanted to do before the party tonight. I saw her fingering her phone and wondered whether she was thinking of calling him, despite her averring that she would not. Having had time to think myself I was beginning to speculate that my answering Wendy's phone, or always being nearby when he called might have given him cause for suspicion. If it was my fault then I was going to feel even guiltier than I did at the moment. Wendy left for the hotel, hunched against the wind and the rain. I sat back and let my thoughts take me to places I wasn't sure I wanted to go. Was I just keeping Wendy occupied? Or was I hindering her? Was my presence stopping her ringing her boyfriend and finding out what was wrong? I was starting to get paranoid when the management came back. I asked the boss if I could have a word, and then I poured out my worries. She just asked if I had said anything at all to Wendy, about my feelings or my worries.

"No." I said.

"Then let it ride." I was a little reassured by this, but was still worried about the evening's party. 

"What if I do something dumb?" 

Now she laughed. 

"We're all likely to do something dumb tonight." She said. "And on past form, you and I will be the only ones who remember anything tomorrow."

I had just finished getting ready when Wendy knocked on my door. She said that the taxi would be about another ten minutes. I let her in, and had to take a step back. Very rarely had I seen Wendy dressed 'out of work'. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a tight fitting black dress that clung to her body. I told her she looked wonderful. She smiled and said that I didn't look to shabby either. As she sat down, she took out her phone again. I had to ask her whether she'd phoned home. She was almost vehement in her quick reply of no, stuffing the phone into her evening bag. She said that tonight she was going to forget all her troubles and enjoy herself. Almost immediately I decided that put me on 'dad' duties again. When tomorrow came Wendy wasn't going to have any more troubles than she had now.

The taxi dropped us off a little early for the party. This was planned as we wanted to discuss a few things as a team, all four of us. I checked he was coming back to pick us up around one in the morning. We called up to let the others know we were there, and then went upstairs. I knocked on the bosses' door, toying with the bow-tie I was having to wear. Wendy slapped my hand down and was stood in front of me straightening it when the door was opened. The boss raised an eyebrow and I went red, remembering our earlier conversation. Wendy missed most of this as she turned around, but I could see the senior supervisor sniggering in the background. The four of us held a brief discussion about what was going on at the exhibition and what the boss had heard from home. It seemed that the management duo were going to have to leave tomorrow lunchtime, but Wendy and I were to stay on and help close up the exhibition and follow home the day after. This decided, we left for the party downstairs. I hung back slightly and asked the boss if she would ring someone for me when they got back, and that she would know what to say when she realised who it was I wanted her to call. She looked at the number I handed her, spotted whose number it was and looked at me quizzically.

"Are you sure?" She asked. I nodded. She shrugged and put her arm through mine saying that as the only gentlemanly type around it was my job to escort her to the party. I laughed and said all right.

The party went through three stages. Everybody had a meal, and then came the presentations, and then the dancing. Wendy and I were on the same table. Throughout the meal I hardly took my eyes off her. I was talking to other people around me, but my attention hardly wavered from her. Some of them must have thought I was rude, but at least one of the other women I was sat near whispered in my ear that Wendy was quite pretty, and that I was very lucky. If only, I thought. The presentations were amusing and serious at the same time. They were serious presentations but done in a wonderfully deliberate amateur way. Finally we came to the dancing. I have two left feet, and dislike dancing, but I made the effort because I wanted to be close to Wendy. It quickly became obvious that she had a much better sense of rhythm than me and I had to cry off. I sat down and continued to watch her. I kept up my half listening conversations as people moved around me. Everyone wanted to talk to someone about the new vehicle, and as someone connected with its inception, a few of them wanted to talk to me. I did the best I could, but my heart wasn't really in it tonight. Whenever Wendy sat down for a rest, she came over to me and we talked a little. Finally she began to unburden herself a little, telling me about her childhood, and crucially her aversion to being told what to do in her own life. A light dawned, and a small piece of information that I would need to pass on was filed away. Most of us had been drinking since the bar had opened, but as the boss had prophesised, I wasn't really getting drunk, nor was she. I looked across the room and she raised her eyebrow. I went over and had a word. 'It looks like we're going to have one each to look after' she said. I nodded and came to a decision that showed I had been drinking; the next slow dance which came up, I was dancing with Wendy. As if on cue, the DJ put on a smoochy song. I hurried onto the dance floor, almost elbowing someone out of the way. Suddenly, I realised how stupid a thing I was about to attempt was. I needed to look at my feet to stop from treading on hers, and if I was holding her close I couldn't see down. Wendy didn't seem to care, she just pulled me close and we shuffled around, barely dancing at all. I relaxed and dropped my hands around her waist. I tried to ignore the feeling of her bare back beneath my touch, concentrating on not letting my hands go any lower. She nestled her head into my shoulder. As the song ended I heard my name being called in connection with the taxi. I whispered to her that it was time to go. She looked up almost sleepily and nodded.




On The Rocks



Despite collecting our coats, it was still fairly cold as we got into the taxi. Wendy cuddled up to me, her head on my shoulder again. She was asleep as we left the hotel forecourt. I could see the cabby in the mirror; he smiled back at me, saying.

"Bad luck." 

I just half shrugged so as not to wake Wendy. 

"Probably for the best." I said. When we pulled up outside our hotel, I shook Wendy gently awake, not wanting to have to carry her and open the doors. The cabby gave me a hand to walk her to the door, and I thanked him and paid him his fare. Getting into the hotel wasn't that hard. The difficult bit was going to be steering Wendy up the windy stairs to her room. I managed it, and without putting my hands anywhere I shouldn't. I opened her room and put on the light. 

Wendy teetered in a little unsteadily, and flopped down on the end of her bed. She slipped out of her coat and then laid back. I eased her off the coat and slipped it onto a likely looking hanger. She looked up and asked if she was really that drunk. 

"I think that you probably are." I said.

"I'm not." She declared. "Look, I can still undo my shoes." She sat up and then leant forward, beginning to fiddle with her shoes. "Okay, maybe I can't." She said, giving up. I sighed and knelt in front of her, slipping her shoes off and putting them to one side with her normal footwear. She began to giggle. I shushed her saying that everyone else was asleep. She apologised, a little more quietly, saying that she'd often wanted to be waited on hand and foot. I shook my head, telling her that this was a one off. I asked her if she could manage now. Wendy looked at me, saying. "I think I might need a bit more help yet." I scratched my head, realising this could be tricky. Her dress left little to the imagination. I found her sensible nightie on the pillow with Garfield and a plan formed itself. I helped her pull the nightwear over head, and then unclipped the halter neck of the dress so that when she stood up, increasingly unsteadily, the night dress dropped down and the evening dress dropped to the floor. I helped Wendy under the bedclothes, then picked up her dress and hung that up too. I kissed her softly on the forehead as I turned out the light and left her. She was asleep already. I went next door to my room and sat down. Several thoughts ran through my head. The first was that it was a good job I had been with Wendy to keep her safe; the second was what an idiot I was. She had almost been coming on to me, but I hadn't realised until I sat down here. However the main thing was that I had kept my promise to myself. She wasn't going to have any more problems in the morning than she had the day before, apart from a huge hangover of course.

I awoke in the morning, a little later than usual, but still far too early. There was no sound from next door, but I wasn't really expecting any. After making myself a cup of coffee and having a shower, I felt a lot better. I looked at the time and it was obvious that I was going to have to wake Wendy if we were to get to the exhibition site at a reasonable time. I still had her door key and so let myself into the room. Wendy was sprawled on the bed, the sheets twisted around her. I crouched beside her and looked into her peaceful face, brushing her hair from her face. Then I gently shook her by the shoulder, murmuring her name. Blearily she opened her eyes, a smile creasing her face as she recognised me. She struggled to sit up, but found herself tangled in the bed linen. I told her I'd go and get some coffee, while she had a shower. I returned when I heard her shower stop. I knocked on her door this time, and still looking the worse for wear, she let me in, a towel around her head and a bath robe pulled tight around her. We sat down to drink the coffee, and Wendy looked across at me. She asked.

"Who put me to bed?" 

"I did." I told her. "Don't you remember?" 

She said the last clear memory she had was of me telling her the taxi had arrived. She was clearly worried about something. Timidly she asked if she had done anything stupid or embarrassing. I thought of teasing her, but the worried look she gave me convinced me to tell her the truth.

"I assure you that you did nothing at all. Nothing stupid, nothing embarrassing, and nothing you couldn't tell your granny about." She smiled and thanked me as I told her about the solution I had come up with to ensure she didn't sleep in her dress. I looked at my watch and said "We ought to be getting down to the site soon." She nodded and started looking through her clothes. I left her to dress and went downstairs to find some more coffee. 

We were first to arrive at the exhibition site, the management team not there yet. It was a beautiful day again, the sun not helping those on the stand with a hangover. Practically everyone was wearing dark glasses, including both of us and the management when they arrived. The boss and I went on a last tour of the entire exhibition, leaving the other two nursing their heads for a couple of hours. As we walked I asked her to make the call we had talked about as soon as she could.

"Why?" She asked. 

"Because I need to know. I'm not going to do anything, however much I want to, until I know." She nodded and said all right. I left it at that. Back on the stand, people were starting to pack up ready to go. I asked if they were sure about Wendy and me staying on the extra night. The boss said that there were still things to be done here, and we were the people to do them.

The main thing was to be a seminar in the afternoon, and then the official closing of the exhibition. After that our time was our own. All we had to do was call in when we got back the following afternoon, and then we could go home. It sounded easy enough and the official business was. But then came the evening. The exhibition site was emptying as all the stands were packed up and driven off. I asked Wendy what she wanted to do, was she hungry? She shook her head, but still not too vigorously. How about a last look at the sea? I asked. All right she said. I led her down to the rocky promontory where we had stood on the first night. She sat on the sea wall as I clambered over the rocks to where the tide surged between them. The sound of the surf was soothing to me. I didn't know what I was going to do now. I could see two courses opening up for me, but I didn't know which one to take. I needed one more piece of information and I wouldn't get that for a while. I turned to look at Wendy, sitting on the wall, the sea breeze ruffling her hair. 

She looked unconcerned and gave me a wave. I waved back and began to make my way toward her. I decided that at the moment I would not make a decision. We wended our way through the town, looking in shop windows, pausing outside restaurants to read the menus on display, and getting a little hungrier each time. Finally, Wendy suggested we eat. I was happy to agree. We picked a steakhouse and went in. As we ate I found myself watching her again. She spotted it too. She asked if she was doing something wrong, as she'd seen me watching her at the big do the night before. I said it was nothing she was doing; I just liked looking at her. For the first time in four days I think she suddenly had an inkling of my feelings. Hurriedly I made a joke and tried to misdirect her thoughts, at least for a while longer. As we finished the meal we both yawned. Time to try and catch up on some sleep we agreed. We parted at the door to my room, saying we'd have breakfast properly tomorrow, and wishing each other a goodnights sleep. My mobile was flashing with a text message. It was from the Boss. All it said was 'calling tomorrow'. 

I slept well for a change. All my worrying had been done and I was really very tired. When I awoke it was nearly half past eight. I rose quickly and showered. I was nearly dressed when I heard the door being knocked. I went over and opened it. Wendy was there looking as lovely as ever. She asked if I was ready to eat. I grabbed my key, smoothed down my hair and followed her down to the dining room. Although we were paying for Bed and Breakfast, up till now Wendy and I had not been eating much in the way of breakfast. Today we did it justice. The food was tasty, and we both agreed we had been foolish not to have taken advantage of this more often. Now it was time to pack our bags, pay the bills and say our goodbyes. We loaded up the car, and prepared to leave. I asked if Wendy wanted one last look at the sea, she nodded. So instead of starting straight back, we detoured and went along the seafront, until yesterday evening the site of the exhibition. The sky was blue and the sea was out, but it still looked pretty and there were always waves crashing into the headland. I headed for the motorway.

We had been driving for about two hours when Wendy's mobile began to ring. She looked at the number and pressed ignore. It rang again five minutes later, just as we came upon a service station. Sighing, I pulled in and told her to answer it. I left the car and went into the cafeteria. About ten minutes later Wendy came in and sat opposite me. I looked into her happy face and knew which course I was going to take. She thanked me for making her answer the phone. It had been her boyfriend, of course. The whole thing had been a terrible mistake, of course, and he was coming down to pick her up from here. I just said I'd guessed it was something like that, and that I'd wait with her. I'd not looked out for her for nearly a week to just leave her in some motorway café. She thanked me and went to get another couple of drinks. I pulled out my phone and rang the boss. She just said.

"You know then?"

"Yes." I said and thanked her for making the call. 

"Do you mean that?" She asked me.

"Yes, I suppose I do." I replied. "At least I know she'll be happy." 

Within an hour they were reunited. I helped to move her bags from my car to his. While he went to get a snack I stood face to face with Wendy. I told her what a fun time I'd had, and she agreed it had been good. I smiled wanly, and said.

"My mission has succeeded then; I've managed to keep you from harm." 

"You certainly have." She smiled back.

"Even from me." I said. 

She looked slightly stunned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the person you were most likely to be hassled by was me, but I kept me under control." I said. It sounded like gibberish, but if she thought about it, it would make sense, but she was too excited at the moment, and would hopefully forget it by tomorrow. I waved them off, then got into my car and prepared for a lonely ride home, only a stuffed Garfield for company. 

My mobile buzzed with a message. I waited until I could pull over and then read it. The message was from Wendy. It said 'I know how u feel about me thanx 4 not pushing w xxx'. She knew!