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Watch Out!

By: vagabondage



Mike set his books down as he walked in the door. Another long week of high school finished with. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and stretched as he walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. His parents had said they would be out of town for the whole weekend, giving him some solitude. Mike's sister Sarah was also going to be home, but she was usually out with her friends, who didn't see her while she was off at college. She was 2 years older than Mike's 18 years, with medium length golden-brown hair and 36c breasts. At 5'6, Mike had to look a bit up to her, 2 inches taller than he was. 

Mike got a soda from the fridge and was walking to his room when he heard a few moans coming from Sarah's room. They sounded erotic, and Mike being the curious guy he was, peeked through the crack in the door to see who was the lucky guy.

He blinked and went wide eyed. It wasn't a guy who was lucky, it was her best friend Vicki! They were naked as jailbirds, and Sara had her head between Vicki's legs! Mike rubbed his crotch, his 7 inch cock straining against his jeans, begging to be let out. He involuntarily gasped as he rubbed his cock through his pants and then slipped away when he saw Sara remove her head. He was about to walk back to his room when the door swung open, Sarah in all her naked glory staring at him. 

"How much did you see?" She glared at him. "Enough. I'm suprised, I never thought you were bi." he smirked. Suddenly Sarah grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the room and swinging him onto the bed. "What're you doing?" he asked. 

"Well, my vibe's batteries are dead and we both wanted to have some sort of male stimulation, so you're it Mike!" Sarah giggled as she held his hands down. Vicki handcuffed his wrists to the headboard, then swung her long black hair back, giving Mike an unobstructed view of her 40 D cup tits. Sarah had busied herself undoing Mike's pants, freeing his cock. "Oh my Mike. Someone's excited by all this." She grinned wickedly down at him. "No, sis..we can't..shouldn't." But Vicki put her fingers on his lips. "Sweetie, don't argue with her, she's a stubborn one." 

Being naked below the waist finally, Sarah proceeded to lick his cock ever so slowly, drawing gasps from Mike. He was torn. He knew doing this with his sister was wrong, but his cock told him it was right. She had the silkiest tongue he'd ever felt, and when she absorbed his swollen head into her mouth, he knew no woman's mouth was hotter. Vicki had straddled his head and lowered herself onto his face. With no way to really protest, Mike started eating her out, flicking his tongue around her warm wet pussy and brushing it on her clit. Vicki moaned and threw herself down, helping Sarah lick and suck his cock. Vicki took his cock into her mouth, sucking it harder than Sarah had, while Sarah sucked his balls. All Mike could do was moan into Vicki's pussy and lick it while they had their way with him. 

Suddenly, they both pulled their lips off his cock and Sarah put a ring around his cock. "I don't want you shooting in my while I'm fucking you, Mike. I don't want a baby from you." Mike moaned, looking pleadingly at her, like he needed to get off or he would burst. Sarah and Vicki were having none of it though, Sarah straddling him first and bouncing up and down along his hard shaft like there was no tomorrow. "Oooohhhh, yeessssss..he feeels so hard Vicki!!" she mewed. "I feel like I'm full of him!" Vicki grinned, watching her fuck her brother while she rubbed herself. Mike, never having seen a woman rub herself was turned on beyond belief. He moaned and begged Sarah again to let him cum. She leaned down and slapped him. "Shut up! No talking by you while I fuck you! Is that clear?" Mike nodded. 

By then, Vicki was kissing her and asking for her turn. Sarah reluctantly got off him and let Vicki have a ride. She cried out, coming to orgasm over and over, soaking his cock with her sweet juices. Mike groaned and begged some more to have the cock ring off, being slapped each time he did. 

After many orgasms between the two of them, Sarah and Vicki finally relented, taking the cock ring off. Mike smiled as he was uncuffed and said, "Ok, now who's going to get me off?" 

The girls laughed at him, pushing him off the bed. "Go to your room and do it yourself!" Sarah said. "We're done with you."

Mike, unable to do anything else, did as they said. He went to his room and fiercely began beating his meat, focused on nothing else until he heard a camera click. He stared in horror as Sarah held up a polaroid. "For insurance," she said. "If you ever tell anyone what happened today, I'll show this to everyone and say it was simply a vivid fanasty of yours." Mike could find no words as his cock exploded, shooting cum all over his stomach. Sarah threw him a towel. "Now clean up after yourself."

Watch Out, United



Wishy Pencildick was an investment banker of note. He liked to hold a piece of the action personally when someone was funding a new exciting business, and that was exactly what the lawyers, Smelliam Fart, and Hasta Toot were presenting to him today. 

Airlines come and go. But an airline where everyone rode nude, catering to the swingers of the world, was simply way ahead of its time, and would surely be a winner.

Smelliam explained that his business model had several major modifications to the usual airline business practices.

“We really see no need for two pilots. We intend to make the flight attendants be exactly that, and have them share the flying duties. Just like a ship captain that is seldom actually at the controls. That is the manner our aircraft will be flown.”

There is no need for seats. If New York commuters can travel hanging onto an overhead strap, the flying public can too, at least for takeoff and landing. The rest of the time, our passengers will be two people layered on the floor mats. 

“We will serve only booze on the flights. All you want. A drunk passenger is a happy passenger, I always say. Of course, I always say, too, Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!”

“The aircraft fleet would consist of Boeing 727, and DC 10 aircraft, each of which has a center engine on its tail. When airborne, we will use only one engine to save fuel.”

“We see no need for expensive mechanics, and will recruit Harley-Davidson mechanics instead. If you can keep a Harley running, you can keep anything running.”

“This will require some changes in FAA regulation. Senator Clinton has informed us that for $100,000.00 she will give us anything.”

“The manager at Newark, Paddy Accounts, has promised us ten gate spots, if we donate to a trust fund of his. We are all set.”

Wishy approved a five hundred million dollar loan on the spot. This was the most fun he had experienced since he gave Al Gore one hundred million dollars of the Chinese money to buy West Virginia. Money down the drain now.

Smelliam and Hasta got right to work. As general manager, they hired Slightly Crazy. Chief pilot was Off Halfcocked, and Director of Flight Attendants went to the ever popular, Shesa Cumming.

All ramp functions were contracted out to a family business, “Shit, Inc.,” whose motto is, “It will happen, with Shit.” Old man, Fulla, started the business. Now his sons and daughters have divided up the responsibilities.

Stinky drove fuel trucks. Bull moved the baggage. Deep provided plowing. Good was the catering guy, and Hafta provided security. Lotsa was the secretary for all the Shit operations.

Off Halfcocked, once a Navy pilot, immediately begin to hire pilots. He only would consider Navy Carrier pilots, known as “Tailhook.” Any guy that could manhandle a “Tomcat” in the morning and some Admiral’s daughter in the evening was his kind of guy.

Shesa Cumming filled the roster of Flight Attendants by recruiting at “Hooters,” and “Playboy” clubs. The pilots union had required that all Flight Attendants be at least a C cup. 

After purchasing the aircraft from Iraq, Iran, Libya, and other such sterling operations, the first flights were set for April 1. 

“A name, we need a name for this airline that fully conveys its potential,” Smelliam implored of Slightly. After much consideration, “Monica” was settled on. Instant name recognition, reasoned Slightly.

The first flight made history. Monica Airlines had a policy of never “Bumping” anyone. Four hundred and seventy five people made reservations. They put them all in a DC 10. The dispatcher, Raving Mad, estimated that the plane was seventy-five thousand pounds over gross weight, what with the people and the cargo of Nova Scotia sand they were sending out to LA for Shag’s personal sand box.

Just before take off, the PA system came alive. “Greetings everybody, this is your captain, Thickly Longbone. We welcome you to”Flight 69,” the maiden flight of Monica Airlines. I and the Flight Attendants will do everything we can to keep you cumming back for more. 

The mike switch was left open. As the engines came up to full roar, and that big bird begin to rumble down the run way, a shrill female voice could be heard saying, “Captain, I could do this better if your finger was not in my pussy. What does that thingy do?” Longbone’s voice could be heard saying, “ I hope this shiny mother fucker can get off the ground?”

The flight Attendants all begin to shed their blue dresses, each with a symbolic white stain on the chest. As they climbed through ten thousand feet, Captain Longbone emerged from the cockpit. A Tailhook guy can’t miss a good fuck and one was developing at that moment on Monica Flight 69. He spied actress “Pussy Galore” of Bond movie fame. In a moment he had buried his, well, his Longbone, in her. 

“Much nicer then Admiral Dewey’s daughter,” he thought as he bounced up and down on Pussy. Just as he was cumming, he saw Lovely Gash, the Flight Attendant that he left flying the plane. “ Who is flying?” he inquired. 

“The Auto Pilot,” she responded. “I have to pee, and then this nice man wants to humpy-fucky me a while... Silly?”

“Silly me, we are at Flight level 360 with Collin’s avionics in control.” Longbone mused. Back to the job in hand of pleasuring Miss Galore. 

Life was not that simple. Several very good looking women happened to be in the rear of the plane. Fucking them, and/or watching drew a large crowd making the plane out of balance. The Auto Pilot could not handle the pressure, so disengaged. Slowly the plane begin to rise and then fall, much to the passenger’s delight. Longbone with his head between Miss Galore’s tits did not notice. 

A drunk, Real Dumbshit, did. He stumbled up to the cockpit. A private pilot with almost seventy hours, Real was imbued with the spirit that, “If it has a stick and a rudder pedal, I can fly it. I wonder if you can do slow rolls with this beauty? Yyyeessss!!” Thus was started a tradition on all Monica flights of rolling over a few times, so that there was a massive changing of sexual partners in the cabin. Longbone later improved on the technique by diving at the same time so that everyone was weightless.

Receiving no response from several calls, Air Traffic Control asked an Air Force F-16 to check on Monica Flight 69. Moments later, a laconic Major Always Gunned reported that Monica 69 was presently at 40,375 feet flying up side down. “Y’all won’t believe what I’m seeing through the windows of this here plane?”

Longbone cursed,” Shit, they have sent the sheriff up here to check on me. “ Stark naked, he crawled to the cockpit. He thanked Dumbshit for his minding the store for him, and righted the plane. It took several minutes for him to figure out just where the hell they were. “Damn prissy Air Force always did get in the way of a good Navy gangbang.” He got on the mike and hollered to the Air Force pilot, “Hey big guy, follow me in and come to the party we all are having.”

“Y’all practicing safe sex?”

“Air Force all the way,” Longbone thought.

Wanton Slut and Takame Anyway, the senior Flight Attendants, came to the cock pit door, both naked, and panting from recent sandwich sex. “Captain, we are running out of booze,” Wanton announced.

“Well, we will just have to make an emergency stop at Kansas City.” Putting the plane into a dive, Longbone flipped the mike switch on and sang at the top of his voice, “Going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. Going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. They got pretty little women there and I’m a going to get me one.” He was joined by four hundred and seventy-five happy travelers.

Watch out, United.

I’m Softly



Watch Over Me



"Grief can manifest itself in so many ways. It can tear through your mind in a way that is hard to fathom. Even through all of that, there is that one sinfully sweet, erotic moment in life when you take the chance of falling over the edge and deciding to LIVE" Lissa




"OH GOD!!!!! PLEAS! NO! GGOD NO!!!!"

Distant screams made her shudder awake. She suddenly felt chill of the night air hitting her bare skin, the cold grass under her feet, complete terror enveloping her consciousness. All of her senses suddenly awake, quietly aware. That ever pleading scream dying away as she realized it was coming from her own lips. She was outside in the trees in the backyard. Wiping the tears from her cheeks and falling to her knees crying like her heart had ripped from her again. Shaking her head to remove that voice calling her to come save him. 

At least this time, she had awakened before she had to watch the water engulf him and take him from her. The doctors told her the night terrors would go away. Almost two years now and they seem to be escalating. She turned and walked back to the house trailing mud down the hall making a mental note to wear something to bed from now on.

She turned the shower on as hot as her tired body could stand it and washed the mud from her legs and feet. She stretched as she washed the leaves out her long red hair. She noticed scrapes on her hands and her knees and realized she must have tripped somewhere along the way. Drying her hair and wrapping up in towel she was lost in thought. 

During the day she played the part of the most adjusted and completely put together person that she could display. A person with no worries who didn't need anyone's pity. Only a handful of people knew she fell apart at night. Her friends knew the trouble she had sleeping and only one or two of them knew the true extent of it.

She smiled when she thought of them in that computer world where she could truly be herself. She didn't have to be put together or perfect. "Cant beat that", she thought out loud to herself. She started a fire in the fireplace and turned on her laptop. Curling up on the couch talking with her friends knowing they helped her through the night.

There was one that she had flirted with, emailed and called in the darkness of the night. When she would talk to him her body would hum at his words and she would fall apart at the sound of his voice. He knew how hard the nights were on her and did everything he could to distract her. He would chase her all over the internet and they would laugh and play and talk and have companionship...friends... until he would call. That low sexy husky voice would make her moan over and over in his ear. The rumble of his laughter would make her blush all over and his cries in her ear would give her chills and send over the edge calling out to him.

They had spoken of seeing each other as soon as possible again after their trip to Cumberland falls. What she didn't know was that he had already made plans. He had plans to be there when her sleeping body would come flying out the back door of her house. He wanted to watch over her and help her through the night. HE wanted to be the ONE who saved her and the one to bring her out of the darkness into the light. His plan was infallible in his mind, the perfect way to show her how much he cared about her. 

Through the next week she had those dreams every night. They seemed to be getting worse as she was letting go of the memories of her last 18 years. He kept mentally telling her to hang on for three days...two days...one day. He prayed to himself that she would sleep this night. 

As he climbed in the car to make the trip he had the biggest grin on his face. The drive went without a hitch. He had timed it perfectly. He told her he was working. He called her, texted her at the same times he did everyday throughout the drive there. Nothing was out of the ordinary to her. 

From the week before he knew that if a night terror was going to take her, it would happen within the first hour she was sleeping. He watched as the lights in her house went out one by one as he talked to her one the phone. He saw her stop at the window and look out back. He asked how the weather was there.

He watched her smile and heard her laugh in his ear and ask "how is it you always know what I am thinking?" She told him there was a thunderstorm coming and he grinned because the rain was starting to hit the roof of his car. He laughed when she told him how she wanted to make love in a thunderstorm at some time in her life and he told her she had a thing for water in general. 

She sounded so tired and they talked for awhile longer until his feigned sleepiness. He wanted to hear her sighing in ear and growling yes at him but he planned on getting to see that in person. He told her goodnight and that he loved her and then he waited. 30 minutes later when he stepped out of the car in the rain. He saw a shadow pass by the one light she had left on. He walked to the edge of the trees and jumped when the back door flew open. 

With red hair flying, completely naked and tears coursing down her cheeks, she ran down the steps screaming for him to swim. He caught her as she tripped. Her eyes wild, the scream dying on her lips, rain running down her body, terror showing in every move she made. She tried pulling him with her, still trying run to an unseen ocean. She started begging "PLEASE!!!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!! I HAVE TO SAVE........"

"Yourself" his voice and that single word snapped her back to reality. He watched it wash over her and then the recognition hit her face. Wonder lit up her eyes and she fell into his arms when the grief hit her again. The thunder rose louder and louder and he pulled back wiping the tears from her face. Moving closer to her and touching his lips to hers. The lightening crashing all around them as he kissed her.

She couldn't believe he was there as she felt the buttons of his shirt brushing against her breast. She pulled back completely embarrassed as she remembered she was naked. She tried to cover herself up as the lightening lit up the night again. He pulled her back in his arms. He held her there as he pulled his shirt off with one hand and bought her hands to his belt. He whispered in her ear "Can you feel the rain, the thunder and the lightening?"  He whispered how much he loved her and how he wanted to be the one who saved her from the night. He was there to protect her, to watch over her. 

Her hands trembled as she unbuckled his belt. His voice was good on the phone but the feel of his breath on her ear and his lips brushing her neck as he spoke made any trace of denying him unthinkable. She kissed him, running her tongue over his, feeling the thunder booming in the very depths of her soul. The storm was growing louder as she pulled off his clothes. She pulled him to the deck and pushed him down in one of those "A" shaped wooden oversized chairs.

She came to him full of pent up desire and lust. The loneliness she felt led her mouth up his thighs as she knelt in front of him. Licking her way up his thighs to the head of his cock she could hear his breath quicken. Wrapping her lips around him began sucking his cock like a starved woman. She stroked him with her hands as she licked his balls. The lightening crashed and he saw the flash of a smile on her lips. She sucked him deep in her throat as he groaned above her head. 

Wrapping his hands in her hair he held her head as he thrust in and out of her mouth, fucking her throat like he said he would. When he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he pulled her to her feet and picked her up. Kissing her lips, having never felt anyone fit so right against him. he laid her in the chair and pulled her legs up over the arms. He kissed her neck and felt her tremble. He licked the rain from her nipples, biting them making her moan louder than the thunder rumbled. He kissed his way down her body while she writhed and begged him to touch her. 

Wasting no time, he licked over her wet lips slowly while her body tensed and waited. He shoved his tongue in her hot pussy tasting her soul for the first time. He moved his tongue to her clit raking his teeth over it. Making her body shudder as she groaned above him with long slow teasing licks. Her hands pulled his hair trying to hold him there trying to grind her pussy on his face, pleading with him not to stop. Feeling her body tense, he sucked her clit in his mouth and as she cried out, he shoved his tongue deep in her wet pussy as she came all over it. She pulled him up as shudders coursed through her.

She kissed him hard as he pulled her out of the chair and bent her over. Legs spread wide, he cried out as he rammed his cock deep inside her. She rocked her pussy back moaning with the lightening. Thrusting in and out she met his every move. He never felt anything so hot and tight. He felt her pussy clamping down on him, bucking as she came again. He almost fell apart with her. 

Sweat dripped off his forehead mixing in with the raindrops. He could feel her legs shaking as he pulled out and ran the head of his cock over her asshole. Slowly pushing in, letting her stretch for him. He reached around and pinched one nipple as he filled her ass. His hand moved down her belly and flicked her clit as he thrust into her. She began meeting him thrust for thrust. She was yelling his name as she came over and over. 

He lifted her up and leaning on the railing took her in arms facing him and brought her pussy down on his cock and fucked her hard feeling her thighs slap against him. She was whispering in his ear that she had never felt anything as wonderful as him; she tensed all around him again. He watched her face as she came again crying out. Her head thrown back, rain washing over her face. He couldn't take it anymore and he growled her name and came harder than ever before.

Holding her to him he sank in the chair while both tried to catch their breath. He was kissing her face running his hands up and down her back. As she raised her head and kissed him softly, he knew that at least for this night he turned her terror into something good, something wonderful. Hoping he had washed it away with the rain and found a love he had never known existed. She whispered in his ear as she pulled him from the chair and into the house. "Thank you for watching over me. Thank you for helping me ...save me", she said with her captivating green eyes locked with his.



Watch Over Me



(Another somewhat long one, I'm afraid. Thanks go to Dawnj for helping out! Whatever mistakes there are, are entirely mine.)

I. Parents' Night

When Anne Tyler had dismissed her last class of the day she sat down at her desk and stared out of the window, without taking in the view. Three o'clock -- four hours before the parents' night would start. She rather disliked parents' nights. When she'd started teaching, almost twenty years ago, the general idea was that students with insufficient results ought to make more of an effort. Slowly, however, the idea had taken root that the teacher apparently hadn't done the student's best, and what was she going to do about it? What indeed! She'd liked teaching and everything about it then. But now most of her peers had gone on to different schools, or become important. She felt quite isolated, and she wished she had a friend to talk to. It seemed as if no one ever noticed anyone any more.

Then there was her housing situation. Gayle, with whom she shared an apartment, had a new boyfriend whom she abhorred. He really was a creep, and she felt unsafe in her own room. Moreover, Gayle officially rented the place, and she wanted her out. It was really impossible for her to stay. She made an effort not to worry about that just now, but instead she chucked her books into her old leather bag, ran her hands through her hair -- which didn't do anything toward making it look tidier -- got up and made for the teachers' common room. She almost ran into Mo Matheson, the head of English, in the corridor. 

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I wasn't thinking."

He grinned at her. "Is it tonight's do?" he asked. "I don't particularly like that either. Always the same silly questions. Will you go home in between?"

She shook her head. Home...no place like home, probably, if you really had one. She swallowed. "I'll see if I can find something to eat in town," she said.

Mo looked at her critically. "Are you alright?" he said. "You look rather blue. Can I help or anything?"

Anne shook her head. Damn -- someone being kind... She got tears in her eyes. "I'm fine," she said. "Really."

"Honestly?" Mo asked, and then the tears started rolling down her cheeks. Mo took her arm and herded her into the nearest empty classroom. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, and she sniffled and blew her nose. 

He patted her back and then said, "I've watched you slowly go silent and cheerless, you know. I know it's none of my business, but I'd love to help if I could. I'll go home for dinner. Why don't you come along -- if you don't mind taking pot luck? If you want to, you can tell me all about it then -- and if you don't, well, there's no bones broken, either."

He stood looking at her a little awkwardly. Mo was a self-confessed bachelor, who lacked the ease in dealing with women that many of his contemporaries had, though he was quite appreciative of them. He had had a girlfriend once, but she'd run off with a gold necklace he'd inherited when his parents died, and since then he'd just been pursuing his own road, a little lonely but clearly his own, and his alone. However, he thought Anne was beautiful, and a nice lass, too -- she was just a little younger than his forty-five years. She had beautiful auburn hair that she wore half way down her back, or put up with a comb in a slightly untidy bun, which made her seem quite attractive, and she had a good figure -- nice legs and curves where he loved them best, breasts and bottom -- into the bargain. He was more aware of her, and admired her far more than he had any other woman in a long time, though he had never acted on it. 

"Well, what do you think?" he prompted her, when she hesitated.

"Yes, please -- if you're sure?" she said. "It sounds nicer than eating out alone somewhere."

He nodded again, happy that they would be spending some time alone together. "I'm ready when you are," he said. .

She smiled a little wanly. "Okay," she said.

They picked up their coats, walked to the car park and got into Mo's car. "It's only ten minutes," he explained.

Anne looked at him from the corner of her eyes while he drove. She'd always thought he was a rather vague, friendly man -- the kind you take for granted, not someone you'd think would notice things. But the students liked him, she knew. And it seemed he was good at teaching. She had sometimes wondered about his life, and about what else he was good at. He had dark blonde hair streaked with grey, and he wore spectacles with very thin metal rims. She turned her head his way and looked at him critically for a moment. To her surprise, he actually looked quite nice. In fact, he was quite a handsome man, and it struck her with some force. She hadn't really looked at him before, and she realized she had been guilty of doing what everyone else usually did with him, and had not been paying attention to who he was. She looked ahead again, feeling bad about it. 

They left the outskirts of town and drove through the wood. When they came out at the other end, there were meadows and trees. The road went uphill for some time, and when they rounded the top, Anne saw a few big fields with clumps of trees and a few hedges separating the fields. Mo left the road and turned into a kind of drive that ran between hedges for a few hundred yards. 

Then he said, "We're here."

His house was fairly big and well kept, she saw. It was surrounded by a wide lawn, with some trees, most of them quite old, and very tall, and a few small flower beds planted with colourful perennials. He drove up to the front door and said, "Welcome," with a little smile. She got out and walked with him to the door, which he opened to let her in. Once inside, he took her coat, hanging it carefully in the hall closet. 

"It's a somewhat idiosyncratic house," he said, "but I rather like it. I'll shove the meat into the oven and make something to drink. Tea or coffee?"

Anne chose coffee. Mo showed her into the living-room and went into the kitchen. Anne walked around, checking out the room. It was big and light and, she thought, a typically male room. Books, music, a lot of pictures on the walls, and a fireplace that could be closed with glass doors and was obviously used a lot. There were two big loudspeakers strategically placed next to the CD player, where there was the latest CD by Laura Marling, and on the floor a cardboard sleeve that said, "Chet Is Back."

She looked at his bookcase and saw that there were a few shelves devoted exclusively to poetry. He seemed to enjoy the works of Graves, De la Mare, St. Vincent Millay and the Elizabethans. On the wall there was one watercolour that caught her attention. It was a picture of a woman in a red dress holding a fan. When she looked at it closely she saw that it was signed "Matthijs Maris" in one of the sticks. She wondered who the painter and his subject were.

"That's nice," she said when Mo came in and saw her looking at it.

He nodded. "Yes," he said, "I like it a lot. She always cheers me up." He smiled. "That one does, too," and he pointed out a small nude in oils. "It's by Ted Auld, a friend of mine. I bought it a couple of years ago." 

He looked at it pensively for some moments. He liked Ted a lot, and he wished he could paint and see a woman like that in the nude -- instead of only in paintings. He'd asked Ted who she was, but apparently it was a model with a few additions and changes of Ted's. He suspected the model might have been Ted's wife, Medbh, but she didn't have her looks. 

"Coffee," he said, bringing himself back to the moment with a shake of his head. He put a large mug and a saucer with biscuits on a side table, and directed her to a chair. He sat down himself, and took a big sip from his own mug of coffee.

"It's really good to live close by," he said, making conversation, trying to draw her out. "I hate hanging around at school when I can go home and be at my own place instead. You live an hour away, don't you?"

She nodded. She looked at him for a moment, and then stared out of the window at the view of a large meadow sloping down to the river, with another small wood in the background. Mo looked at her and waited to see if she were going to say anything. She looked back at him and shook her head. He could see the struggle she was having to say what was clearly weighing her down, and he felt immensely sad for her. She was too beautiful to be in such obvious distress, and he hoped he could help her with whatever was making her so upset.

"I'm in a spot of trouble," she said. "I think I'll tell you -- maybe you can think of something."

She lifted her mug and drank, and then she put it down and said, "I share an apartment with another woman, Gayle Morrison. I had a boyfriend once, and when we split, years ago, it seemed the best thing to do. Gayle and I didn't know each other very well, but we could share expenses -- I didn't have anything. My parents died leaving only debts. It is a furnished apartment, so I didn't need any furniture." She took another sip of her coffee.

"My parents died in a car crash. I had to borrow a lot of money for the funeral, so I had a hard time financially for years. That's why I don't have a car. I've been trying to save up since I paid off the loan to get enough money to rent a place of my own -- or buy one, better still. Gayle's the one who officially rents the apartment. She found a boyfriend, unfortunately for me, and now she wants me out. I don't trust the boyfriend so I lock my room when I go to sleep. It doesn't feel like home at all, any more. It feels unsafe, with this guy sneaking up on you silently, and just watching. He seems very possessive towards Gayle, but I shouldn't wonder if he has the odd girlfriend on the side. I don't seem to be able to find a place to rent in the neighbourhood. I don't want a room in a boarding-house..."

Her voice trailed off, her eyes seeing a clearly unsettling future as she stared into her coffee. Mo nodded. "No," he agreed, "you're too old for that, and I think you're the wrong person to be happy there."

Anne sighed heavily. "The estate agents don't have any apartments handy at the moment, apart from a few that are far above my budget."

Mo looked at her pensively. He saw no other way out but the one he was about to suggest to her. It would probably come as a shock to her -- it certainly was to him, as he had never acted on an impulse like this before in his life. But there it was, and he couldn't muster even a scrap of concern at his unexpected behaviour. Everything would be all right. He had to believe that. He shook himself mentally, and then he said, 

"I don't want to butt in, but if you need accommodation fast you're welcome to stay here. I've got a few spare rooms, and I don't think I'll be in your way." When she didn't respond at once, he added hurriedly, "Shall I show you?"

She raise her eyebrows and looked at him, still without replying.

"I know," he said, attempting to lighten the mood and lessen the shock of his offer, "I'm a dubious character. But I promise to behave." He grinned wryly at her, silently acknowledging the lameness of his joke.

"That's not what I thought," she finally answered, blushing. "It's just, er -- I don't want to be a nuisance..." Again her voice trailed off.

"Look," Mo said, "Let's have a look before we decide anything, okay? It might be too small for you."

"Are you really sure?" 

Her uncertainty was painful to him. "Oh yes," he replied immediately. "I'd hate to see you look permanently the way you did this afternoon."

He got up, and walked toward the doorway. Anne decided it might be worth having a look. She smiled at Mo a little nervously, but followed him out of the living room. He took her upstairs and showed her two rooms that obviously weren't often used, a bedroom and a sitting room. 

"They're intended for visitors," he explained. "But I hardly ever get any, and the few friends that do come to visit are all couples and I put them in a different bedroom."

She saw, as she looked out of the window, that the small sitting room must be on the same side of the house as the living-room. There was the view of the river and the wood beyond.

"Oh, look!" she said, her voice cheerful for the first time. "There's a couple of deer down there!"

Mo smiled. "There's a lot of them around," he said. "We can share the kitchen and the living-room," he added, getting back to the business at hand.

She nodded. "I think I'd love to come here for the time being, thank you," she said. "May I really?"

"Of course," he said, relieved to have the matter settled. "Let's go downstairs again, shall we?"

In the kitchen, Mo began by cooking the vegetables, while Anne wandered back to the living room and had a look at his CD collection. She found Joni Mitchell's "Blue", put it into the CD player and skipped to track eight. 

"It's coming on Christmas

They're cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on..."

She'd so often wished she could leave her old life behind, skate away and forget about Gayle, and her parents' death. Skating away on a river had seemed a brilliant idea. She wondered if she'd still want to, living at Mo's... Maybe not, she thought.. 

Dinner was good. Mo had made roast chicken and a vegetable curry. Anne found that Mo was a better cook than she'd expected -- obviously she was prejudiced about a man's ability to cook a decent meal, she realised with a wry smile. Her father hadn't been able to boil an egg, let alone concoct anything remotely edible. When they'd finished and packed the dishes in the dishwasher, Mo suggested that they could go and pick up the things Anne needed after the evening's talks. 

Anne nodded. "I think everything will fit into your car," she said. "I don't have much more than my clothes, toiletries and a few boxes of books."

"I wish I could offer you a drink -- later tonight, perhaps," Mo said. "It won't do for you to smell of alcohol now, though. Another coffee, then?"

They sat peacefully in the living-room for a while, not talking, just listening to another CD Anne had chosen. Anne felt relieved no end, and the approaching parent's night seemed rather less of a hurdle, all of a sudden. They drove back to school in time. Anne had six parents, five from seven to eight fifteen and one from a quarter to nine to nine. Mo had only two, and he sat reading in the teachers' common room until Anne had finished.

He gave her a warm smile when she walked into the room. "Okay," he said, "ready?" They went to his car and drove north on the motorway. Anne gave directions when they'd reached her town, and Mo found that she did so in a pleasant way, leaving him enough time to do as she told him. 

When they arrived at the apartment, Anne told Gayle she was moving out. Gayle greeted her move with obvious enthusiasm. It didn't take long to transfer Anne's belongings to the back of Mo's car. Gayle didn't lend a hand. When they had almost finished emptying her room, Gayle's boyfriend, Dwayne Tranter, walked in. He was a lean, gangly fellow with slightly slick, straight black hair. He just stood looking at them, leaning against the door jamb, but when Mo looked into his face he shifted his focal point. Mo took an immediate dislike to the fellow, which manifested itself in his being over-polite, something Anne would come to recognise over time.

When they drove off, Anne said, "Did you notice she didn't even ask where I was going? I lived in the same place as she for nigh on fifteen years!"

Mo shook his head. "Not very nice," he said. "That boyfriend of hers is a bad 'un if ever there was one -- you're better off without the two of them."

He drove on in silence. After quite some time he said, "I hope Gayle knows what she's doing. I wouldn't trust any woman with that man."

Anne nodded; it was what she'd felt all along. She let her thoughts wander aimlessly until they were once again parked in front of Mo's home. It was with a sigh of contentment that she carried her stuff into Mo's house -- or at least, the part he didn't bring up for her. When everything had been placed in her new rooms, Mo asked, "Care to come to the living-room for a drink, or would you rather go and unpack?"

She grinned at him. "A drink, please," she replied without hesitation. Her heart was lighter, and she felt as though she should celebrate her great good fortune.

II. Winter

Anne found Mo was an easygoing and engaging housemate. They ate together, they frequently spent some time together in the evenings, they went to school together, and they still led their own lives. She had unpacked her books and put them on a couple of shelves in the guest sitting-room, and she had put her CDs -- only a fraction of Mo's collection -- in alphabetical order, and after having been there for a few weeks she bought a bottle of whisky and invited Mo up for a drink at her place. They had a nice time listening to her music. She first played a CD with tribute songs to Dolly Parton. Mo especially liked Mindy Smith's version of Jolene. 

"Very nice," he said. "Can I have a look through your CDs?" He rummaged through them and found a copy of Dire Straits' first album. 

"Oh, nice," he said. "Can you play this, please? It's an old favourite of mine!"

Anne beamed, and took the CD from him. "Of course," she said.

She slipped the disc into the player and started "Sultans of Swing". Mo saw that for a moment there was a faraway look in her eyes -- not like the one he'd notice at school, looking ahead at trouble, but one looking back into a past that must have been nice. 

"Good memories?" he asked. 

Anne blushed a little and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I was in love then..." She let the sentence drop there, but she treated Mo to a brilliant smile. 

They ended up talking about school and the surroundings. When she mentioned how happy she felt he'd intervened that parents' night she looked at him straight, for a long time. Mo noticed that Anne's brown eyes had a tinge of green to them -- they were big eyes, too. He loved them -- nothing like his own! 

She did a lot of walking at weekends. There were some very good public footpaths around, one leading directly into town, and Mo had shown her a few tracks when she had just moved. Mo sometimes came with her, but he spent most of his weekends writing and making music. Anne thought it was because he wanted his privacy, and she would have been genuinely surprised if she knew that it was really because he didn't want to intrude but to leave her enough space to lead her own life in spite of being in a strange house.

They took turns cooking; when they did the cooking they bought and paid for the food, too. Mo clearly was the better cook, but he always seemed to enjoy Anne's cooking as much as she did his. He really enjoyed dinner together. He used to have his meals on a plate on his lap, sitting in front of the fire reading, or out in the garden listening to the birds. Talking, and smiling at a table partner was something he'd almost forgotten, apart from the few occasions when he entertained friends or was visiting them.

Two months after Anne moved in, as she was relaxing after her evening meal, having a coffee as she perused the evening papers, she noticed an article which reported that Gayle Morrison had been found strangled in her apartment. There were no traces of the perpetrator apart from DNA material under her nails, and the police were hoping some information might come forward. 

Anne hurried downstairs to Mo, not even thinking about whether or not she was interrupting his evening ritual, or about whether or not he might have a guest. She burst into the living room brandishing the paper and imploring him to read the news item. Mo took the paper from her and skimmed through the article. Then he read it more slowly before looking at Anne with a look of horror on his face. He shook his head. 




Watch Over Me



"Poor woman," he said. "What a way to go." 

Anne nodded. "Do you think it may be Dwayne?"

"I certainly wouldn't put it beyond him," Mo said. "It's definitely a line for the police to follow up."

"Do you think I should contact them?" Anne said.

Mo nodded. "Obviously," he said. "If he's the killer, you'll be doing justice a good turn."

"Okay," Anne said. She consulted the directory and dialled the number. 

The police were very happy with her information, and they sent a female officer round to take down everything she could tell them. 

The officer introduced herself as Mabel Johnson, and she asked if Anne would mind her recording the interview, which she didn't -- so she switched on a small recorder and asked Anne to tell her what she could.

Anne told her she'd lived in the same house, and she gave a very accurate description of Dwayne Tranter, and she told her the boyfriend's particulars, insofar as she knew them, and how he would stand and stare at her, and how he tried to rule Gayle's life in any way he could... 

"You did not like him much, did you?" Ms Johnson said.

"I was afraid of him," Anne replied. "He seemed very untrustworthy to me."

"Hmmm," Ms Johnson said. She looked at Anne as if to decide whether she was another of those excitable women who enjoy feeling important by calling the police. Anne hoped she'd pass muster, but she had at least given her a possible lead, she thought. 

The officer nodded and said, "We didn't know there was a boyfriend. It seems Gayle must have been very secretive about her relationship."

"I don't know," Anne said. "I lived with Gayle at that place for almost fifteen years, but I can't say I knew her well, really. She kept herself pretty much to herself..."

She thought back to those long days, and shook her head. "Oh well," she said. "For what it's worth."

"Yes. Do you have any other information that might be helpful to us?

"No. I don't think so. I've told you what I know."

"Alright then. I will have the interview written down. Would you mind coming into the station tomorrow to read and sign your statement?"

Anne said she would be there, and saw Ms Johnson to the door. 

She went into the living room. Mo put down his book and look at her questioningly. 

Anne raised her eyebrows. "She looked at me as if she were assessing me," she said. "I just told her the little I know."

Mo nodded. "She probably did. There are a lot of creeps about." 

He smiled at her. "You may well have helped them out of a difficult job."

"I do hope so," Anne said. "I could do with a drink. Want one, too?"

The next day Anne went to the police station after school and read and signed her statement. The officer who'd taken it wasn't in; she was received by an elderly gentleman who appeared to be the leading investigator. He was very correct and rather distant, and Anne was happy to have done with it.

They didn't hear anything about the case for some time until there was an article in the papers saying an arrest had been made. There was a DNA match with the traces found under the deceased's nails. 

"I wish I'd been wrong about him," Mo said. "Good thing you cleared out in time."

It gave Anne the shivers -- she knew.

As autumn took hold, the beautiful view from her sitting-room slowly changed colours. The grass started to pale, and the trees grew russet and brown and yellow, but she loved it still... She'd grown up on a cramped living estate in town, and the apartment she'd shared with poor, silly Gayle was surrounded by other apartment blocks. She loved the country and the changing seasons, and here she could see and enjoy them in abundance.

Temperatures began to fall, and some mornings Mo had to scrape the ice off the windscreen. Anne had offered to take her turn in doing so, but Mo didn't think it meet to let her -- it was no work for women, he said -- so she didn't offer to do so again. 

He was really nice, even though she could well de-ice a windscreen, she thought -- she wasn't certain if he was courteous or just old-fashioned, or both, but he was a good person to have around. She loved looking at him and listening to him, and he made her feel very much at home and at peace around him. She wished she could convince herself he might feel like that, too. 

They changed the clocks. It started to get colder in earnest, and Mo kept a good supply of firewood in the living-room. On the evenings when Anne came down from her own quarters to join him, she usually found him reading near the fire, but he would immediately put down his book to enjoy her presence the way she did his. She loved the way he'd smile at her, and the look in his eyes on her. He had deep-set, grey eyes that could see right through you -- as many a pupil knew only too well -- but that could also be soothing and, she thought, a little like honey, warm and soft. She wished she were as clever and educated as he. She always felt he must think of her as a little uncouth, entirely unaware of the fact that what he did think was that Anne was a station above him.

On one of those evenings, Mo asked her what her plans were for Christmas. He planned to have friends over on Boxing Day; he had invited Ted -- yes, the one who painted the little nude -- and his wife and daughters. They'd arranged that a long time ago. Mo always made sure he had visitors at Christmas, as it made the season truly festive. 

"Will you be going anywhere? Do you want to invite friends over, and if not, would you mind celebrating Christmas with me?" he asked her.

"No, no, and certainly not," she replied immediately, feeling a happy glow spreading inside her and warming her cheeks. They spent the rest of that evening making plans -- what to eat, and how to decorate the room, and what drinks to buy, and there was a concert in the village church that seemed nice to them both. It was nice and warm, and they both felt very happy.

Anne thought of the Christmases she'd had when living in her old apartment. She'd usually tried to ignore the idea as much as possible. It was a rotten time to be alone. Making plans together was new, exciting and very pleasant!

November ended with a sprinkling of snow; but it was short-lived, and December howled in with rain, lots of wind and too clement temperatures. Even so, Mo kept the hearth burning. Every night he closed the doors on the dying fire, and every evening he would light it again, because, he said, it was more pleasant than central heating. He loved looking into the flames, and the house was always warm and cosy, and Anne came downstairs rather often now the world was dreary and dark outside. He highly enjoyed those times when she did, though he never acted any differently toward her. He just soaked in her presence, and beamed at her obvious enjoyment of his company.

At school his colleagues sensed something different in Mo. He seemed a little less withdrawn, a little less aloof, perhaps -- quite human, actually. Anne's new address had been published somewhere but no one had bothered to find out about it, and they were mercifully spared any comment. Not that he would have been bothered had they said anything, but he felt that Anne would have been embarrassed by the attention, which he knew would be unwanted.

Moreover, there was a lot of talk as Murchison, the senior maths teacher, seemed to pay rather a lot of attention to young Mrs Wilkinson, a looker if ever there was one, though she generally wore dresses that were less than revealing, due to her husband's tendency to use force to settle any arguments -- and sometimes when there weren't any arguments, too, for good measure. It was whispered that she and Mr. Murchison sometimes, you know, that they... Well, anyway, those rumours kept tongues wagging -- something shocking to think about, instead of his and Anne's living arrangements.

When the holidays came along, it was still wet and windy. No white Christmas, hardly even a green one. There were blackish wet leaves on the paths in the wood, and grey clouds traversing the sky, and the wind howled in the chimney. Mo had put up a Christmas tree in the living-room, and they spent Christmas Eve preparing their Christmas dinner together. 

Anne prepared a mushroom soup with a hint of onion, and crunchy bacon and croutons to be added later. Mo was busy with a mutton roast with gravy and vegetables, and potato cubes, to be fried next day, and together they made a salad with greek cheese and a custard crumble. They spent a lot of time in the kitchen, with a CD of carols by the King's College Singers in the background. 

Then, after a light meal, they went out and walked the distance to the village church where they attended mass, smiling at each other now and then.

To their surprise Christmas morning broke silent and sunny. No snow, definitely not, but a welcome change after all those rains. 

Anne got up, and threw open the casement windows. The air was cold, but she inhaled it deeply. It felt good, going into her lungs, and she felt this was going to be a day of promise. She'd been looking forward to celebrating Christmas with Mo, and it seemed a felicitous sign that the weather was so nice. She wondered if she could tell him how nice she thought he was, but it seemed a bit daunting still.

She quickly made her ablutions and went downstairs to find Mo in the kitchen, whistling and busy making tea. He stopped when she came in and wished her a merry Christmas, taking her hands and kissing her cheeks. She blushed but kissed him back. 

They had breakfast together, and then coffee. Anne found there was a present for her under the tree; it was a bottle of perfume and a collection of poems. She beamed at Mo when she unpacked them -- and immediately put on some perfume.

"Oh, nice! Lovely, Mo -- It's just the kind of scent I like!"

She took a deep whiff, and smiled. "Do you think it smells good one me?" 

Mo sniffed, and nodded appreciatively.

They went for a long walk after that, with a nice pub lunch half way, and they made sure they were back in time to put the last touches to their dinner that evening. After dinner they sat in the living-room talking about past Christmases and listening to a series of Christmas concertos by some of Mo's favourite composers, and played Yahtzee over a glass of port, to turn in at eleven, at peace with themselves and the world.

Anne lay in bed thinking of the past year, and how happy she was to have escaped the apartment she had lived in for so long with its attendant gloom. Mo was a dear, she thought. He would never undress her with his eyes, the way some colleagues would, the way Dwayne, Gayle's boyfriend, did the few times they bumped into each other, and he was always nice and friendly, and very dependable. Yes. Life had gone right. All she should get now was a place of her own, so she wouldn't outstay her welcome. She wondered what Mo thought of her; it was probably good things, she thought, or he wouldn't be so nice. She glanced over a few of the poems he had given her earlier -- she'd read them later. 

Then she turned off the lights and closed her eyes, and lay thinking of Mo. If he weren't so aloof, she would have tried to find out if he'd want her, she thought. No, not aloof -- it wasn't that. She really looked up to him -- he had such an ease with a lot of things, and seemed to know so much... She sighed. He was clearly well beyond her station -- but he was a real, real friend. Sweet and nice -- damn! She lay still, thinking of his eyes and smile before she dropped off.

Mo couldn't sleep; he got up again and went downstairs. He hadn't felt so happy for a long time, even though he realised that Anne would probably be wanting to find a place of her own, and quite rightly so. But he wished she wouldn't; and he had started to wonder if being a bachelor was really what he wanted after all. There was a half moon, disappearing and reappearing again through the wisps of cloud that were passing overhead; it would be back to normal the next day -- rain, rain, and more rain. Oh well. It was a little disturbing sometimes to have Anne around -- he felt getting more and more enamoured with her, and it was hard not to be able to show it. She was in his thought more often than he'd like to admit. He wondered what life would be like when she'd found a place of her own -- he was afraid he might prove unable so fall back into his old groove easily. He sighed deeply. Life was very unpredictable. 

Their visitors arrived early the next morning. Anne took an immediate liking to Medbh, Ted's wife. She had an online second-hand bookshop (and a place in town, she said) and she was just as unusual as Mo. She thought that Mo and Medbh might have made a good couple, but apparently Mo didn't have any such ideas. When she asked him, later, he told her he'd known Ted for years when Ted met and courted Medbh -- he'd painted a very sexy portrait of her as a proposal, he said, and it had worked. Their elder daughters, both from a previous relationship, were beautiful, and the twins nice and bright. The eight of them had a lovely day, and Anne was very happy when Medbh invited her over for a visit at some future date. She said she'd certainly go, and she meant it.

It rained all week, and New Year's Eve passed uneventfully. Mo went out to the shed to prepare more firewood, and Anne stayed in her quarters for most of the day, marking papers and preparing lessons for the coming term. The highlight of the day was their meeting at dinner and then spending the evening in each other's company, reading and talking now and then, till ten when then played a new record that Mo had just bought, and had a drink together. Anne loved the fact that he still had one of the "old" record players, so she could enjoy the vintage sounds of the kinds of music he enjoyed, some of which were not readily available in any other format. They called it a day at half past twelve. The rest of the holidays followed the same pattern, more or less -- they saw each other at meals and in the evenings and went their own way during the remainder of the day. The weather was good enough for another walk twice, but it was a miserable show most of the time.

The winter term was long and cold. Teaching was okay, and they had picked up enough energy to make it till the next holidays without any trouble. Anne loved the quiet pace of the country, but she began to feel increasingly uncomfortable being a guest at Mo's. He would look at her quietly when they were together, wondering a bit uncertainly how and if he could make her understand what he felt for her. She apparently misinterpreted the looks he gave her completely, however, so she began to search more diligently for accommodations elsewhere. It was with a kind of relief, therefore, that she eventually got an offer for an apartment in town that seemed reasonable, and had all the facilities she wanted. It was situated fairly close to school and big enough for her.

When she told Mo at dinner, it was all he could do not to let his face fall and spoil her joy. He was genuinely happy for her -- it was what she'd wanted, after all -- and so he buoyed himself up to smile at her bravely and wish her luck. So that was that, he thought -- back to the lonely life he's seen as natural only nine months ago -- no Anne, no bright smile in the morning, no chance she and he -- he stopped that train of thought with an effort. Blast! He felt like like a schoolboy in love... He suppressed a deep sigh. 

They went to see the place together, and after having a look, Anne decided it was quite the right place for her. It was a nice apartment alright; even Mo had to admit as much to himself. He only wished he could think of an excuse to keep her at his place. He knew how he felt about her, and that the last thing he wanted was for her to leave. But he had no idea if her feelings matched his, as she had been friendly and companionable, but nothing more for the time she had been in his home. He wasn't an expert about women, and didn't know quite how to broach the subject of her staying on.

Anne moved out by the end of week. Mo drove her and her things to her new home, and helped her arrange them where she wanted them. She kissed him warmly on the cheek when everything was done. He took his leave and drove back home in silence, feeling empty, old and grey. When he got home, he poured himself four fingers of whisky and sipped the drink slowly, sitting in his favourite chair, staring into the empty grate, his emotions in turmoil, a mixture of moroseness and angry frustration. He didn't know whether he was angry with her for wanting to leave, or with himself for letting her go. 

III. Mark

Anne felt very lonely at first, having grown accustomed to Mo's presence and to doing things together with him. Now, however, she went home to a cold hearth, and spent the evenings working for lack of a better thing to do. She reread the poems she got at Christmas; lots of them were love poems. Mo apparently thought she must be rather romantic, she thought. She was afraid to believe it might be because he harbored any deep feelings for her. What if she assumed that, and she was wrong? She couldn't live with the mortification. But reading the poems, knowing where her own thoughts about him often led her, made her miss him even more keenly. If only he were a little less -- she couldn't find the word she wanted. She shook her head, trying to get thoughts of him out. But the little voice inside mocked her, repeating his name: "Mo, Mo, Mo..."

Eventually she settled into a new groove. School kept her very busy. She often had coffee during her breaks with Mo; he was always happy and ready to talk with her. They were still very easy together, but somehow it was a little different from the days when Ann lived at his place. Mo looked at her and wished, as he had so often, that he was more easygoing, more conversant with dealing with a woman -- he missed the point that it was his own feelings he could not handle entirely. Nor did Anne understand why she sometimes found it hard to talk to Mo -- it hadn't been like that before. 

Now that she lived in town she visited some of her colleagues, and went out with a small group of lady teachers once or twice. There was a flourishing literary circle with excellent speakers at times, and she often went there. Mo was there, too, most of the time -- she didn't know that he was one of the founding members, and arranged most of the evenings. It was always nice to see him there, though. They often sat listening together, and Mo was happy to notice that Anne was well informed about a lot of the subjects. It felt better than at school, somehow, and Anne was more at ease.

Another favourite outing of hers was the cinema. She slowly developed a liking for art house films and old black and white classics. There was a colleague who shared this enthusiasm with her, and Jenny and she often spent a nice Saturday evening watching one of their movies and talking about it afterwards. 

Jenny, who worked at the same school, was some ten years younger than Anne. She taught socials sciences, and Anne and she had become friends when they shared a project together. The project had been a success, and because of the close contact it required between them, they had come to respect and like each each other a lot.

She did compare the men she met occasionally, in town, or at the cinema, to Mo, and they didn't come close to what she'd come to see as the standard for a nice man. But how could Mo ever want her? She never suspected that Mo might think that she could hardly see anything in him, feeling as he did that he must seem quite old-fashioned and stuffy to her. She visited him at his place every now and then, and he came and had tea with her. But something made their time together a little strained. Mo tried desperately to be entertaining and to make her face light up the way it used to, and Anne tried to be the lady she thought Mo would like to see. t didn't work out well, and their visits became less frequent. They had become too ill at ease in each other's company.




Watch Over Me



She went to Crete on holiday with Jenny. They visited the classical remains, and lazed on the beach, and generally had a great ten days -- she couldn't afford to spend more money on her holidays, but this was fantastic. She came home tanned, and rested, and full of energy.

She called Medbh Auld, and was greeted by an enthusiastic repetition of the invitation to come and visit them. Yes, they were at home, and when would she come? She went and stayed there for five days. She recognised Ted's work immediately from the oil in Mo's living-room, and when she asked Medbh about the portrait Mo had told her of, Medbh took her to her bedroom and showed her. Mo had been right; it was a very sexy portrait, Anne thought. It must be great to have a husband like that!

At Christmas that year she invited a couple of colleagues over for dinner. To her regret, Mo declined; he had been asked to visit another old friend of his, and he would not be in town. Her face fell when he told her. She'd actually banked on his being there... 

Mo was rather sad about it. If he'd known Anne was going to ask him, he'd happily have declined his friends' invitation... He did go to the friends who had asked him over, and tried to be good fun for them, but his heart wasn't in it, and he found the visit very hard. Anne's absence brought last Christmas back to mind with an uncomfortable intensity. 

Anne's party was a success in itself; still, Mo's absence did dampen Anne's joy in it a little. She spent a long time thinking over her position. Mo... Mo was off. She would just never dare to make an overture to him, so she'd have to accept the thought that he wouldn't be hers. It made the day lose all colour, though.

Winter passed. By the end of spring, Mary LaCalle, a new math teacher, threw a housewarming party. Anne didn't feel like it too much, but she went anyway. It was quite a crowded do, with loads of people she didn't know, and one or two that she did. She'd bought Mary a nice desk lamp, and she stood looking at the other guests coming in for some time. One of them gave her a rather long look. He talked to Mary for some time, and then walked over to her and introduced himself as Mark Annison. He was a local sports champion, and a successful business man with a bright smile, a trained body with broad shoulders, big hands and a lot of dark curls. And he was tall -- he must be at least 6'2", Anne thought. His handshake was as warm as his smile, and he had a deep voice that somehow made her feel very feminine and a little vulnerable.

Mark had a way with women, and before Anne knew he had whisked her away from where she stood, made her a cocktail, and taken her to a more or less quiet corner -- Mary's place was fairly crowded and not that big -- where he entertained her with stories about his work and the silly ways of the sports world, and flirted with her openly. Anne didn't know the type; she had never felt so flattered before, and Mark went out of his way to make her feel happy and attractive. His smile and his voice did something wonderful to her. She felt important and beautiful, and when she left that evening, they had made a date for the next weekend, involving dinner and a concert -- Mark appeared to be an opera buff, and she'd never been to an opera before.

She felt excited all week. Mo noticed it, but as he didn't want to intrude he didn't ask, and Anne didn't tell. She felt vaguely uneasy about it, as though it were something forbidden or indecent.

She was wondering what it would be like with Mark, and if he and she might, perhaps, afterwards... It had been so long since she had been with a man... She didn't allow herself to finish her thoughts. She found it hard to concentrate on her work; fortunately she was experienced enough to run part of her teaching on automatic pilot, and she did make an effort. It seemed as if the week would never end. That Saturday, Mark came to collect her at five. She'd spent a long time deciding what to wear, and an even longer time seeing to her make-up, and eventually she was reasonably content with the results. She was ready at four thirty, and then it seemed as if the minute hand got stuck. But eventually, it crept closer and closer to the full hour -- and then, a couple of minutes early, there was the bell. She forced herself not to run to the front door like a schoolgirl on her first date, but she was at the door pretty fast nevertheless.

Mark was dressed in a beautiful suit -- handmade, yes, sirree -- and he whistled through his teeth when he saw Anne in her gladrags. 

"Wow, young lady," he said with a smile. "You are beautiful!"

Anne beamed. She took her clutch, went outside with him and locked the door. Mark opened the door of his car for her -- Anne knew nothing whatever about cars, but it was a beautiful, sleek sort of thing, with leather seats and a polished wooden steering wheel, and when Mark drove off she noticed it was very silent and pleasant. They drove out of town. Mark had reserved a table at Woodbine's, the connoisseurs' restaurant that Anne knew about but had never visited -- it would have been well above the amount she'd ever want to pay for food. But she enjoyed the atmosphere, and Mark was as entertaining as he had been at the party. The food was very good -- the restaurant boasted a celebrated chef -- and the wine even better. Yet she briefly wondered if she didn't actually prefer the kind of meals Mo would cook, but looking at Mark, and being made much of by him, did wonders to drive that thought from her mind.

They had some liqueurs after dinner, in deep leather chairs at the open fire in the lobby of the restaurant, talking about their lives. Anne told him about her time with Gayle, and her subsequent stay at Mo's. Mark's brow grew dark. He asked if she still met him. Anne explained that he was just a colleague, and that they'd only lived apart in the same house. No different from Gayle, she said. 

Mark seemed relieved at that. He had a rather jealous streak that he never allowed anyone to notice if he could help it -- and being successful in most things had given him the feeling he had a right to things, a fact Anne would not discover until it was almost too late. He certainly felt he had a right to Anne, and even the idea of her having had a boyfriend made him feel almost angry with her. 

As Anne went on to tell him that Mo had only been to her apartment to help her move, and once after that at a party with lots of other people, Mark nodded. That was alright. He was a bachelor, too, like Mo, but he did have a life, he thought. He'd seen Mo at a charitable do once, and he seemed a stuffy sort of guy, and besides, existing on a teacher's pay... Mo must be a loser, obviously. He, Mark, though, had had lots of girlfriends, and intended to get married some time soon, if the right partner presented herself, and Anne rather looked like the thing, beautiful and very presentable. He looked at his watch. 

"Come," he said. "We'll have to go -- it's half an hour to the Opera House."

When they arrived, Anne loved the ambiance. Red plush, gold paint, a broad stairway... Mark had bought expensive tickets, and they had a stall of their own. The cast performed Verdi's "Nabucco." Anne loved it; it brought tears to her eyes. Fortunately, Mark had a packet of tissues in his pocket, and he held Anne's hand and pressed it comfortingly, while she dabbed at her eyes and nose with her free hand. His hand was warm and firm, and Anne felt the magnetism of his touch. She timidly pressed back, which Mark took as a sign he could run his fingers over her palm, and press her hand more insistently. He used his thumb to stroke the soft flesh, and smiled at her whenever she looked at him for a second, wanting to make her feel the centre of his attention. It made it a little difficult to concentrate on the opera for her, as she felt herself get moist slowly. Nobody had made much of her like that since her one relationship ran on the rocks, over sixteen years ago. She felt giddy -- and maybe it might expel her loneliness? 

Though Anne fervently hoped that Mark wouldn't smell her arousal, he was too experienced to let on he did. However, he did feel himself stir at the thought of it. Later, he promised himself. His girlfriends all thought he was good in bed; he'd love to make Anne squeal under him. The thought stirred him even more.

The Russian company got a standing ovation. As they were exiting the Opera House, Mark held her upper arm, and said, 

"Well, Lady Anne, how did you like your first opera?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. "This was fantastic, Mark," she said. "Thank you so much!"

"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said with a grin.

It was dark as they drove home, and Mark drove with his right hand, his left one possessively on Anne's right thigh. He didn't move it, to let her get accustomed to the feeling, but he noticed to his delight that his touch there had the intended effect. Anne looked at him and pressed her legs together in an effort to stop him from smelling her -- to her dismay she could smell herself only too clearly. If it weren't too unladylike, she would have put her hand on his but it might get her even more aroused... Oh, she could really do with some relief.

Mark pulled up in front of her apartment, after a drive charged with mounting sexual tension. He got out, opened the door for her, and when she alighted, he put his arms around her and kissed her forcefully on the mouth. She felt herself go weak in the knees, and allowed his tongue past her lips.

"Mark, please," she said, when he withdraw his mouth. "Let's go inside!"

She fumbled for her keys in her clutch, and opened the door. They hurried inside, and Mark banged the door shut with his shoulder; then he lifted Anne with an arm under her bottom and hurried up the stairs. Anne giggled, and pointed to the right. 

"My bedroom's over there," she said. 

She felt his erection through his trousers -- it seemed a good sized one, she thought, and then he stood her up and unzipped her dress while he pressed his lips to hers and invaded her mouth with his tongue, as she undid the buckle of his belt. They broke their kiss for just a short moment -- long enough to shed their clothes -- when Anne felt herself being lifted up again. She knew what Mark intended, and she wanted it, too. She felt under her bottom for his cock and rubbed the tip along her pussy lips before she sank down on his length, accommodating him to the balls. She heaved a deep sigh, and shuddered as Mark started to thrust up into her depths. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, and pinched her nipples with his free hand. Then he slapped her bottom hard. The sudden sting made her pussy contract around his cock, and she started to push herself down on his member, clawing at his back and pulling his face into hers for a moment.

"Yes," she hissed, "Yes, yes, yes -- please -- yes!"

She went back to kissing him, and Mark started to stroke the crack of her ass, tickling her rosebud, which made her wild. He pushed a finger into her ass. She wasn't sure if she wanted that but at the moment it just made her pussy contract again, tightly around his cock. She growled at the back of her throat, and Mark rejoiced in the fire she put into fucking him back.

"Go for it, little firebrand," he encouraged her. 

Then he lifted her off his cock, and deposited her on the bed on her knees. He positioned himself behind her and slammed into her, slapping her bottom and then feeling under her for her swinging breasts. He rubbed and pinched her nipples, and Anne rocked back into his thrusts, hard, while she found his balls between her legs and she squeezed them softly. Her clitoris was painfully swollen and she rubbed her own juices into the hard nub, while Mark's cock found her g-spot and sent her over the edge. She felt her juices run down her legs, and she growled, hoarsely, 

"Oh yes please -- come for me, Mark -- please!"

Mark plunged back into her once more -- and then he felt his juices spurt into Anne's depths, hot and forceful, and when he was spent, he collapsed on top of her, holding her neck, panting. After a while he said, 

"Right. Clean me with your tongue!"

To her surprise, Anne complied willingly. She sat on the bed on all fours, taking Mark's half-hard member into her mouth and licking off their combined juices, and to her delight she felt him get hard again in her mouth while she was at it, and enthusiastically continued licking and sucking him.

"Wait," he said gruffly. He got up off the bed, and told her to lie on her back, and then put his cock in her mouth again. He slowly fucked her mouth and stroked her breasts while she lay looking at his cock and balls, feeling him with her tongue and softly biting him now and then.

"Do you like it up the arse?" he said.

Anne shook her head, as she couldn't talk too well. Okay, Mark thought, I'll give her some time...

"Come," he said, "it's my turn."

He went round to kneel between her legs and started to suck her pussy, nibbling on her clit, taking her pussy lips between his lips and pulling them gently, and finally putting his mouth over her entire pussy and sucking hard. It made Anne go wild.

"Ooohhh..." she sighed, "please -- I want you inside me again..."

Mark got off his knees and lay down on his back, and Anne straddled him and sank down on his slick cock in one smooth motion. She used her vagina walls to squeeze his cock, and then started to ride him in a rocking motion, hard, hard, harder... And when she heard his breathing go ragged she pulled up her legs until her knees were close to his armpits, and then started to move her bottom back and forth. Mark hadn't experienced this trick before. It felt fantastic. He gave up trying to meet her motions and just gave himself over to the sensations that seemed to aimed directly at his balls, looking at her face and breasts while she rocked him, smiling angelically. It was too much for him soon, and he felt himself go all tense...

Then he erupted into a long, long, seemingly continuous flow of sperm into Anne's womb, hot and heady, and plentiful, until he felt the sticky stuff cake his pubic hairs.

When she felt his come overflow inside her Anne came again, too. It was a very forceful orgasm, and she slumped down on top of Mark's well-trained body, joyfully spent. She tried to kiss him but he just put an arm round her back and held her close until they drifted off to sleep.

IV. Doubts

Anne's relationship with Mark steadily developed. He often took her out, and they invariably had wonderful sex together. He always was quite the gentleman, and Anne loved the way he made much of her. And yet... There were some little things that gave her a vague feeling of unease she'd find hard to put into words. It was almost as if she were his next asset sometimes -- a beautiful car, a beautiful house -- two beautiful houses, actually, one in town and one in the country -- and a beautiful girlfriend. She was proud of her work, of her achievements in education and even of her apartment, and she'd hate to see those belittled or ignored.

Mark was a driven businessman. He knew what he wanted, and he was accustomed to getting it; he hated to be thwarted or have his wishes denied. Anne had, so far, always fallen in with his wishes. She wasn't fully sure if things might not be a little less pleasant if ever there should be a reason for her not to. Mark kept coming back to the idea of anal sex at times, but Anne wasn't having any. It seemed dirty, unnecessary and unpleasant to her, and as there were more than enough other ways to satisfy a man, she didn't understand why he should go on about it.

She had been to a business meeting once or twice, to act as a hostess. Mark looked at her with approval; she wasn't so sure herself. She was very willing to help out, of course -- but it wasn't her sort of thing, really. All of this was not too big an issue, of course. What was much more disturbing to her was the fact that there seemed to be various points in time when they just didn't relate. When she tried to tell him about her love of the simple joys of the country he looked as if she spoke Greek, and she didn't understand what he could like about the rather ostentatious art he used to decorate his home with, or the just as ostentatious cars he had to drive, nor did she like sports quite as much as he did.

She tried to see the good thing in a brighter light -- and there were quite enough of those. Quite enough. They went on holiday to Salzburg, saw five operas in six days, spent a week on the beach in Turkey, being lazy and making lots of love -- very, very satisfying -- and he took her to various other nice concerts. She'd offered to take him to the movies in return, or to one of the evenings of the literary circle, but Mark politely declined. He didn't want Anne to use her money to treat him as he earned far, far more; a gentleman paid for his lady, didn't he? Anne nodded at that, a little dubiously.

When she discussed it with Jenny, she didn't react at first. Anne asked her why she didn't say anything, and Jenny said she wasn't sure she should. "I don't want to ruin our friendship, you know. I er, I don't know, but er... I'd better hold my tongue."

"Please," Anne said. "I promise it won't make a difference between us."

"Well -- alright then; don't you think it may be just because there is no status in old movies or literature? Dressing up for an art movie is a bit ridiculous, and it would be mightily out of place on a literary evening, too. I sometimes feel Mark is very busy being seen."

Anne scratched her head. It seemed rather possible Jenny was right. She wondered if she should confront Mark with it but decided against it. 

At Christmas, Mark had a party for a group of business associates. He had arranged everything perfectly; there was excellent catering and a beautiful tree had been installed by a specialised firm. The big dining room at his town house was decked out in season's greenery and there were candles and bowls of fruit -- and Anne suddenly felt very lonely. She thought back to the Christmas she'd spent at Mo's place. There had been only the two of them, and then Ted and Medbh and their children, but all these people didn't made life cheerful at all. She wished she could talk about it with Mo -- but somehow she'd rather not. Medbh? Hmm, yes. She decided she might do just that.

Mark wondered what it was that made Anne so silent at the party. He hated it when his treats weren't duly appreciated. But he couldn't put a finger on it, and let it go. He made love to her rather roughly that evening, and was very insistent about expecting her to allow him to fuck her in the ass some time soon.

V. Parents' Night

There was another parents' night by the end of January. Anne didn't have any parents wanting to speak to her for a change, so she stayed at home. Mark was to visit her at eight. He had kept on badgering her about fucking her ass; he had even given her a butt plug to make her back opening a little easier for him, together with a tube of KY jelly so it'd go up her ass a little easier. She'd put the things away; over the intervening days she'd grown more and more uncomfortable about the whole business. If she weren't good enough the way she was, then she'd rather he'd tell her so.

Eventually she took herself by the shoulders and decided she wasn't having any, and she was going to talk it out with Mark. Now Mo -- he would never badger his girlfriend, she thought -- he was too much the gentleman, too gentle, really. She sighed. Damn.

Mo had four parents that evening. He had an early dinner at home. Since Anne had moved out, parents' nights hit him hard, emotionally. He more and more regretted the fact he'd not told her how he felt about her, and he found his own stupidity hard to cope with. When his meal was ready, he took his plate into the living room, selected a CD by one of his favourite singers, programmed one track and put it on repeat, but after listening to it a couple of times it was more than he could stomach and he pressed the stop button. His meal didn't seem to taste the way it ought to, and he ate only half of it, and threw away the rest.