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Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 01

By: knownobounds



This story takes place in September 2004

Chapter One

I hit the fire door with the palm of my hand so hard, it slammed the wall and the boom echoed back up the stairwell. I stepped out into afternoon sunshine, it was a bright but cool early autumn day, but beads of sweat shone on my forehead and my shirt clung to my skin. My cheeks burned like embers and I panted as I tried by drag myself under control.

I leant against the bare brick wall, running my hands through my hair and drew in a deep lung-full of cold air. I held it until my heart began to slow, then blew it out through pursed lips.

I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips before staring across the street, suddenly conscious that I was drawing the attention of passers-by. I tried to smile at a middle-aged woman who fired me a nervous glance, but it even felt more like a grimace. She turned away and scurried off.

I turned to step out onto the pavement, but instead swivelled around and kicked the door with the toes of my black boots. The pain that flashed up my leg brought a moment of clarity that focussed my mind.

I pulled the door back open and looked up the stairwell to the first floor that led through reception to my office and immediately felt my anger rise again.

"Fuck it." I murmured, turning again into the street. They can fucking well do without me for the rest of the day, I thought and headed up the hill towards my apartment. My mind replayed the meeting on a loop, and I watched myself storm out before I said something that jeopardised my job, if, I reminded myself, I hadn't done that anyway by leaving - not even pausing long enough to retrieve my coat, I realised as the wind bit through my suit jacket.

I stuffed my hands into my trouser pockets and hunched my shoulders against the cold. Almost subconsciously, I stepped through the doors of a pub suddenly in need of a drink to cleanse the day away.

I helped the door shut with the sole of my foot and blinked heavily, again rubbing my eyes with my fingertips, finally feeling in control of my anger.

The bar was all but deserted, it was only about 4 o'clock after all, but I realised after a moment of staring unashamedly that I recognised the girl at the bar. In fact, I had a ticket to her gig the following night and I dimly recalled that tonight was a free night in her schedule.

Just as well. I thought as I approached the polished wooden bar. I could see from her posture and an empty shot glass that she was hitting it hard, already drunk and showing no signs of stopping.

She signalled to the barman with a dismissive wave and he re-filled her shot glass with ice-cold Absolut straight from the freezer, took her money without a word and then turned his attention to me.

"Hiya. Bateman's please mate."

"Pint?" I nodded as I rested my elbows on the bar and saw the girl drain her glass in one and wipe her lips dry with the back of her hand.

The barman placed my pint on the brass drip tray as a tablespoon of creamy head slid down the side of the glass. I slipped onto the high stool and saw him glance cautiously at the girl, probably wondering if she was going to be trouble.

"Anything else, mate?" he asked in a broad south Australian accent. I nodded.

"And another one of those." I said pointing at the empty shot glass. He shrugged, his body language said simply, Your funeral, and he refilled her glass before taking the note I offered him between the polished wooden beer pumps.

Our eyes connected via the Guinness branded mirror that hung behind the bar. I raised my glass in a toast before taking a few large mouthfuls. The girl returned the gesture, this time restraining herself to just half the shot.

"Thanks." She murmured, eye contact still only established via the mirror.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked standing, ready to pull my stool across the couple of feet of scratched oak floor that separated us. She shrugged and looked at the space between us, swaying slightly as her legs dangled in free-air, not long enough to reach the footrest that circled the stool's legs.

"Free country I guess." She slurred, still staring into the mirror.

I dragged my stool beside hers, the metal feet scratching bright new scars in the wood.

We sat in silence, just two afternoon drinkers in need of a hit. She finished hers and I polished off most of my pint, the alcohol buzz beginning to relax me and she smiled weakly at me via the mirror.

I turned to face her.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "what's this all about?" I asked, gesturing to the dry shot glass.

"Shit day." Her tone was gruff, suggesting any conversation would be one-sided.

"Now that I can drink to." I said and poured the rest of my beer down my throat, in three swift gulps, "Vodka?" I asked as the barman made his way over. She just nodded.

"Maybe just one more." She said, the veneer finally cracking and a smile breaking over her pale pink lips. The barman poured the vodka into fresh shots with a flourish, the thick glasses frosting with contact with the ice-cold spirit.

I loosened my tie and picked up my glass, holding it out towards her. Our glasses met with a dull clink.

"Shit days and cold cures." I toasted.

"Cold cures." She replied in a North American drawl and we both drank. The freezing spirit slipped smoothly down my throat, hit my stomach and spread through me like a fire-storm.

"Well," I started as the burn manifested into a warm glow, "my name's Philip and I know why my day was shit, but" I hesitated, "what's fucked yours up so badly? A multi-million selling album. A sold out tour. You're life must be a nightmare!" Having made it clear that I knew who she was, I extended my hand towards her and she shook it weakly. Her hands were small and cold and disappeared completely within my long fingers.

"Hi Philip," she said, her words like treacle, "my day's just been a pack of crap. I don't even know if there'll be a fucking show tomorrow." She shook her head, closed her eyes and drained her vodka, tipping her head back so far I thought she would topple off the stool.

Instinctively, I reached across and placed my hand between her shoulder blades, my fingers easily spanning the distance between them. She flinched and spun to face me, a dark look shrouding her gentle face, the corners of her soft mouth turned down.

"Hey." I said, holding my hands up in surrender. "Hey. I thought you were gonna fall off the damn stool. I'm sorry." I hoped my smile was disarming. "I just didn't want you to crack your head on the floor." She relaxed a little, smiled naturally and the ice-maiden seemed to melt a little.

"I'm sorry." I repeated. "Look, do you fancy grabbing a coffee?" If you have any more of that stuff, I'll have to carry you back to your hotel. How 'bout, I shout you some caffeine and you can tell me about your shitty day?"

She was silent, and the moment stretched. I figured she'd just make her excuses, crawl back to her hotel and sleep it off. I was about to say something just to break the silence, when she slipped off the stool and stood unsteadily, resting her hands on my knees as she fought for balance.

I looked down into her grey-blue eyes for the first time and realised just how beautiful she was in real life, despite her glazed stare. The faintest touch of black mascara contrasted against the perfect whiteness of her eyes, making them sparkle.  

"Come on then Philip," she slurred, "let me buy you a coffee."

…

We sat in the corner of Starbucks in purple wing-backed armchairs, unnoticed by the smattering of customers and she worked the day out of her system. This morning's rehearsal. This afternoon's fight with the band. Then her manager. Then her publicist, and finally, her afternoon in the bar.

"The only consolation is that no one knows who the hell I am, so I can get pissed in peace." She was sat cross-legged, her feet tucked under her and her hands snuggling a second cappuccino, as staff tidied up around us. "I'd have made the 'papers back home. The barman even asked me for I.D. and still didn't know who I was." She said and I realised that she'd enjoyed the anonymity.

Despite the second caffeine injection, the alcohol was still winning the battle of her bloodstream and the hot coffee seemed only to relax her, rather than sober her up. As she paused, she yawned, hiding her mouth behind her mug.

"Well look where my tantrum got me. Pissed, shattered, stranded God knows where with God knows who." It was a rare moment of clarity and despite her tender smile, I realised how vulnerable she looked.

"Well," I said, as I placed my empty mug on the tabletop, where it was immediately whisked away by a hovering staff member, "you've got no worries there. I'm just a full-time desk jockey, part-time guitarist and only occasional psycho. I only kidnap women on a Friday, so you're in luck" I said feeling strangely at home in her company. "I've lived here most of my life and have a pretty good idea where you'll be staying, so you're not lost."

She looked at me warily, her eyes betraying a life-experience that far exceeded her nineteen years.

"Look, if you want me to go, just say. I'll point you in the right direction and be off, but I wouldn't be happy leaving anyone in your state alone." I said, wondering why I was always on the defensive. Around us, seats were being stacked on freshly scrubbed tables, and a boiling mop polished the ceramic floor tiles.

"Do you fancy me?" She blurted, totally out of the blue, her eyes suddenly focussed with a pinpoint sharpness, boring into mine as if searching my soul. I laughed nervously.

"Well I think you're very beautiful." I replied and felt my cheeks flush. Her laugh sounded unnatural, almost cynical, but her eyes never left mine.

"That's not what I asked," she said, "I asked if you fancied me."

"Yes." I said simply, but alone the word seemed to hang between us and the silence stretched uncomfortably. "I love your music. You look like you would be fun and I already enjoy your company. I think you're beautiful and yes, I do fancy you." I snapped my mouth shut as my head replayed what I'd said. It was true, but it felt wrong. "But I'm not a stalker, if that's what you think." I said, but that sounded wrong as well, so I rattled relentlessly on. "Look, we need to get out of here before they chase us out with mops. Can I walk you back? I'd feel happier knowing you were safe." I finished, relieved that I had finally stopped babbling. Avril nodded back almost imperceptibly, blinked and her gaze finally fell from mine. 

"Yes please." She murmured.

She swayed as she stood but maintained her balance without support and I realised that despite the forty-five minute sabbatical, she was even more drunk than when we had left the pub. I guided her out into the evening; it was still bustling as people made their way home from work.

"So where's your hotel?" She paused and looked around, her gaze drifting from shop to shop, her arms folded across her chest. She shook her head.

"I have no fucking idea." She said and I realised as she spoke that she was shivering. The sun had also finished work and the evening was chilly, too cold for just a long-sleeved t-shirt.

I shrugged off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, swamping her petite frame. I immediately felt the wind bite through my shirt.

"Thanks."

"Do you know what it's called?" She shook her head.

"God you must think I'm a fucking idiot." I ignored her.

"Is it the Royal?" Again she just shrugged.

"Jesus, I feel so irresponsible." She muttered continuing her own conversation.

"Is it across from Rock City?" Finally recognition flickered across her face.

"I think so."

"Massive place. All sweeping staircases, marble and top hats?" This time she nodded more confidently, a feint smile teasing her lips. "Come on then." I said "It's not too far." As I set off, she caught my arm, just below the elbow and I stopped.

"Thank you," she said more sincerely. "I mean that. I'm pissed, lost and too damn proud to do anything but wise-crack you when you're just trying to help. Thank you."

"Come on, let's get you back," I said smiling, "before I freeze to death." And this time as I set off, she slipped her hand through my arm and pulled herself close. With her tiny body pressed against mine, her perfumed scent drifted up into my senses, taking my breath away, and as I caught our reflection in a shop window, I blinked hard and tried to work out if my mind was playing games.

…

Her room at the four-star Royal Hotel was spacious and plush without being extravagant. Most importantly, it was warm. The ten-minute walk in shirt-sleeves had been just beyond my comfort limit and as I closed the door, the heat began to seep back into my bones, and my chattering teeth slowed.

No longer afforded the comfort of my support, Avril meandered towards the double bed, caught her foot on something invisible in the thick carpet and fell face first onto the soft mattress.

I tried to stifle a laugh, but as she lay face down on the bed, her legs dangling out into space, I walked towards her giggling like a teenager.

I wrestled my jacket off her shoulders and laid it flat across the pillows. Rock star or not, it was a £400 Ted Baker suit not a night dress and I could ill afford to buy a new one right now, but as I did it, I cursed the evil demon of common sense that chirped inside my head, and wondered when exactly I had grown up.

I watched her and after a few minutes she rolled over onto her back and opened her big, glistening eyes.

"God, I'm wasted." She said, stating the obvious. As if to prove a point, she sat up, lifted her foot and reached out for her trainers, but as her centre of gravity shifted, she toppled backwards, bursting out laughing as she lay sprawled on her back across the foot of the bed.

I sat beside her and watched as she chuckled drunkenly, her chest heaving with each breath. It was a beautifully infectious sound and I laughed along with her, or more honestly at her as she lay helplessly on her back.

"Look, I'd better go." I said, when the giggles subsided, although it was the last thing I wanted.

"Don't." She said softly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped short and whatever it would have been never came out.

"Don't go." She repeated, as if she too felt something else needed to be said. She paused again, then sat up and took my hand in both of hers. My heart leapt at the touch of her soft skin against mine, her hands still cold from the walk.

"I've got nothing on tonight." She said, looking first down at her hands, holding mine, then back up into my eyes. "I just need a shower, a coffee, to track down the guys, eat some humble pie and then perhaps you could show me the sights. No more vodka, I promise." She said, those eyes boring into me again, in the bright light of the room, now more sapphire than steel.

"Don't you have rehearsals or sound checks or something?" I asked, giving her every opportunity to back out. She shook her head.

"Not tonight. I just need to catch up with the guys. I was a real bitch this morning."

I looked down at the diminutive girl holding my hand.

"Let me see," I said in mock contemplation, "an evening with a beautiful lady, perhaps a drink, then dinner." I let the sentence trail off, my attempt at nonchalance failing miserably. "You may have to pinch me, but that would be great." I said, thinking I sounded like a prick as soon as I heard my own voice. She pinched the back of my hand. I flinched and she grinned wickedly at my reaction.

"You're sweet." She said with an angelic smile, and I instantly fell in love with someone who until a few hours ago had been just a face on MTV.

"Brew me up a cup of something hot," she said as she stood. "I'm gonna grab a shower, then we'll get some dinner." Her voice was much clearer, but she was still unsteady on her feet.

As she headed for the bathroom, I flicked the kettle on and primed a couple of instant coffees. Three hundred quid a night and instant Nescafé, I thought as the small kettle began to rattle and splutter. You wouldn't get away with that in any other country.

There was a crash from the bathroom, a cry of pain and a loud, unladylike "Fuck!" Clearly audible through the thick, wooden door.

"You okay?" I called, concerned that she may have slipped and cracked her head. I could hear water running and didn't want to find her slumped in the shower.

"Smacked my fucking leg on the bath." She called.

"But you're okay?"

"Yeah, but I could do with a hand." She said and I heard the lock turn and the door opened an inch.

I stepped into the growing mist, the full length mirror already beginning to cloud over.

"I bet you were a boy scout," she said as I stepped in, "I've made a right fucking mess of these laces."

She was perched on the edge of the clinically white bath and as I came in she sat up, unashamedly topless, her breasts, perky and small, her dark pink nipples erect.

Instinctively, I turned away and muttered an apology.

"Don't be so fucking soft." She teased. "Just give me a hand with these damn shoes and if my body still repulses you, you can wait outside."

With my cheeks burning, I didn't even register that there was an option not to wait outside and I knelt on the hard tiled floor and began to pick at the knots. As the steam gathered and the temperature rose, I could smell her skin and as I worked I was conscious of her pale breasts just inches from my face. My imagination rioted and I pictured squeezing them, sucking them, feeling their hardness grow, hearing her moan with pleasure and immediately I felt my body respond.

She was right, I had been a boy scout and always crap at making knots, so consequently, an expert at undoing botched ones. All too soon, her trainers lay untied and discarded on the floor and I stood to leave, hoping my excitement was not obvious.  

"I'll leave you too it." I gibbered, my face a beetroot.

"I thought you fancied me?" She teased as she sat up and braced her hands on the edge of the bath, pushing her breasts out towards me. I could only smile weakly back, trying desperately not to stare at her perfect milk-white flesh, but unable to rip my eyes away.

I stepped forward an inch, my head screamed for me to kiss her, just to see her reaction, but as she stood and undid her jeans, I panicked, "I'll be, err," I stammered, and with that I scuttled out, closed the door behind me, and scuppered the only chance I was likely to get to taste those candy lips.

Inside, a million miles away, I heard her start to sing softly as she stepped into the shower.

Jesus.  My mind screamed. Did you just leave the room so you wouldn't see her naked?  I stood with my back against the bathroom door, bumping my head against the hard wood rhythmically, trying to believe that it was all real. She had been happy to undress in front of me and she mocked me when I reacted. What would she do if I just strode back in there now? Was she waiting for me to do just that? She had not re-locked the door. I shook my head. The moment was history, speeding off into an irretrievable past, like every other decision we make. I made my coffee and re-boiled the water in readiness to make hers when she re-appeared.

There was an acoustic guitar leaning against the desk on the far side of the room, so whilst Avril showered and my mind still howled in protest, I sat on her bed and played absent-mindedly, whilst my horridly bitter black coffee steamed on the table beside me.

…

"Wow. That's better." She said with renewed energy as she emerged in a cloud of steam, wrapped in a thick white towel. I spun around, almost dropping her guitar.


Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 01



"Don't stop on my account," she said, ignoring my obvious guilt. 

"It's got a great sound." I replied, just to say something.

"Well, play away." She said as she towelled her long brown hair dry. "So where do you want to eat?" She continued as I watched her, strumming softly.

"Depends what you like. There's most things around here and it won't be busy on a Tuesday." I finished, feeling strangely like this had been going on all my life.

"Something French," she said, "it'll kinda remind me of home."

"Well, I'm dressed for it, but they tend to be a little more formal." I hinted as she pulled on a t-shirt and faded blue jeans, whilst I made little effort to keep my eyes off her beautiful body.

"I'll change after I've seen the guys." She acknowledged. "Then I'll meet you in the bar. I'll come down and set you up a tab."

…

Perched on a stool holding a large, dry martini with a curl of orange peel sat at the bottom, I tried to make sense of the evening.

It had obviously started when I left the meeting so angry that I'd just grabbed my jacket and gone. I hadn't quit, at least I hoped I hadn't. The clock had just hit 4pm, so I'd only ducked an hour, which was nothing compared to what I put in after hours. I knew as soon as the meeting ended that if I'd stayed, I would have said something that would have made my job untenable. Avril wasn't the only one with a humble pie waiting for them.

Ironically, it was the first time I'd ever hit the pub on my own. Furthermore, I had simply ended up in the pub nearest the office – one I hadn't been in since before I went to university, almost 5 years ago.

So now, after a chain of firsts, I was drinking in the Royal Hotel on Avril Lavigne's tab and waiting for her to come down for dinner. I toasted myself and my bad day in the mirror behind the bar, then ran my hand over my chin, now dark with stubble.

I checked my watch. It was getting late. I was on my second martini and had read the evening paper. It crossed my mind that I'd been stood up. Perhaps she was tied up with the band, or more likely as she sobered up, she realised that she'd been stupid enough for one day, cut her losses and left me with her tab as a reward. Oh well, I thought. I'd reassess once my martini was spent, after all, it wasn't the worst place to watch the world go by.

I was dragged back to reality by the barman's voice, which I realised had been preceded by an almost imperceptible whistle.

"Looks like your lady has returned." He said nodding ever so slightly over my shoulder as he polished the bar, perhaps sensing that I felt I'd been stood up.

I swivelled around, my mind so lost in itself, it was struggling to re-connect with the here and now. My eyes focussed at the same time as my head, and I saw what had attracted the barman's attention.

Walking towards me, a wide and beautiful smile on her rose-red painted lips, she wore a simple, dark blue satin dress that just about touched her knees; with a velvet jacket over her shoulders to keep the evening chill at bay. Her hazelnut hair, which had been pulled back into a harsh ponytail earlier, lay smooth and straight, draped over her shoulders. Despite her slight frame, she stood tall, proud and confident in a pair of three inch heels, her head and shoulders held high, as she rode the wave of her own self-belief.

"Shall we?" she asked. "I'm starving."

"You look stunning." I said, almost choking on my martini, suddenly feeling crumpled and dishevelled in comparison. She stretched up and kissed me on the cheek and for the second time, I waited a beat for my heart to re-start.

"You can stare at me now I'm dressed." That wicked, teasing flicker back in her eyes.

"Yeah, typical isn't it. I can't tear my eyes away from you now. How did it go with the guys?" I asked feeling more comfortable to be changing the subject. Her naked, flawless skin was supposed to be a fantasy.

"Well, if you're worried about the show, your ticket is safe." She said in a tone that closed the matter. "Okay, where are we heading?" It was her turn to change the subject.

"Follow me. I have just the place." As we walked through the marble-lined lobby, she slipped her hand through my arm and when I looked down at her, a gorgeous grin spread across her face and her white teeth shone against her red lips. I could get used to this. I thought, before my demons told me to grow up and just enjoy the evening.

…

The meal, but more importantly the company, was amazing. Living on borrowed time as I was, the evening passed in a blur. I felt from the outset as if we had known each other forever and the conversation bounced back and forth like a ball in the world's longest rally. I knew with confidence that I could introduce her to my oldest mates and they'd just accept her as if she'd always been there. We liked the same things, the same music and we immediately had an instinct for what made the other laugh and so by the time the waiter presented the bill, we had the place to ourselves.

"Hey," she mocked "I like a man with expensive tastes." She said as she unfolded the bill.

"And I like a woman who can afford them." I returned.

"And is there someone who can?"

"Nah," I said, shaking my head, "it's just me and the job."

"Just you and a hand job." She blurted out before her brain had control of her mouth and she clapped her hand over her face and burst out laughing, drawing the head waiter's attention. My cheeks burned and I shook my head, unable to think of anything to fire back.

…

As we walked across the town square the clock struck midnight and she paused to look up at it.

"Thank you again." She said.

"No thank you, you paid."

"That's not what I meant." She looked up and took my hands. "I mean thanks for earlier. You were kind and gentle. The perfect gentleman, whilst I was drunk and rude."

"I wouldn't have swapped today for anything." I said. "Just a shame no one will believe I stormed out of work because I had a date with Avril Lavigne."

"Do you fancy one for the road?" She asked.

"Sure." I said, happy to stretch the evening further but realising that I had just entered the final straight.

We walked back through the lobby and the concierge bade us a good night, touching his fingers theatrically to the brim of his top hat. I thought I recognised her band in the bar, but as I headed that way, she stopped and took my arm.

This is it. I thought. This is the thanks, good night and have a good life speech.

"Not in there," she said, "there's a mini-bar upstairs, I think?" the question was an invitation, as she walked out of eye-line of the bar towards the lift.

…

We helped ourselves to a pair of brandies and whilst we sat in the warm lamp light, me on the armchair, plucking at her guitar again and her perched on the end of the bed, the conversation just naturally flowed. Bands, music, films, school days, holidays – one conversation poured into another and outside the bubble we had created, the world continued to turn.

The cruel digital clock on the television told me it was 2.30am.

"Jesus" I said in a rare pause, running my fingers though my hair. "I'd better make a move. I've got to be at work in a couple of hours." I said reluctantly. "And you need your beauty sleep."

"And I thought I was beautiful already." She said tossing her hair like a shampoo advert.

"I'm not going to rise to that."

"Not like you did in the bathroom!" She was an infernal tease and again I was lost for words, instead blushing yet again until sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Do you blush every time a woman speaks to you? It may explain why you're single."

"No." I responded. "But I do seem to blush every time you speak to me. Look. I don't want tonight to end, but I really should be heading home." I said, trying to convince myself. I placed my empty glass on the lacquered, walnut topped desk and stood up.

I held out my arms and was rewarded when she stepped into my embrace. I hugged her hard. "Thank you" I said for no specific reason. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

She looked up and stood on the very tips of her toes. Her lips, soft and moist pressed against mine. She pulled away the tiniest bit, but I could still feel the warmth of her delicious brandy-flavoured breath. Then she kissed me a second time, this time, I felt her lips part and her tongue flicked delicately out across mine.

"Don't go." She breathed, and I opened my eyes to see her staring back at me, our faces just inches apart. "Don't go." She repeated and this time I saw her speak and knew I had not imagined it.

I said nothing, just held my breath and the third time she kissed me, I kissed her back, our tongues dancing, exploring each others lips and mouths more passionately as the sexual tension grew and our hands began to wander, stroking and squeezing with increasing urgency.

We kissed for an eternity until I felt her curl her foot around my leg and run her toes down the back of my calf, making my blood freeze.

I scooped her up in my arms and she wrapped her legs around my waist, her dress hitching up, so I could see her pale thighs above the tops of her hold-ups.

I pushed her dress up further and placed my hands under her buttocks and she pressed her hips against me, her pussy rubbing on my stomach, separated only by her thin panties and my cotton shirt.

She buried her head in my shoulder and began to nibble on my neck. Her hot breath on my ear, sent ice-cold splinters down my spine and drove me wild as I kneaded her tight buttocks.

I wriggled my fingers inside her pants and touched the wiry curls of her pubic hair. She moaned and when I found her moist lips with my fingertips, she sank her teeth into my ear lobe.

"Oh God" she moaned as I teased and tickled her, unable to get more than my fingertip inside her from this angle.

I carried her over to the bed and lay her down. She immediately sat up and began to wrestle with my belt. I pulled my shirt off over my head without unbuttoning it and threw it across the room, cufflinks still fastened.

Bare-chested, I looked down as she delved inside my boxer shorts and wrapped her hand around my painfully hard erection. I gasped and watched mesmerised as she tugged my shorts around my hips.

She looked up at me watching her, before she bent down and slowly licked around the head of my cock before closing her lips around it. I could feel her hot tongue working around my penis as she sucked, slurped and licked.

The feeling was delicious and when I caught our reflection in the mirror, I watched her go down on me, rather than focus on the crown of her head.

My excitement was matched only by my stampeding lust and in no time at all, I could feel myself losing control, as my knees began to shake.

I had come this far, I had no intention of letting this end so quickly. I had been without a girlfriend for almost a year and without even the most casual sex for nearly six months. I was in no mood for a five minute knee-trembler and a swift kiss goodnight.

I knelt down in front of her and pulled my trousers and pants off in one.

"Hey, this isn't fair." I complained. "How come I'm naked?" I pushed her flat onto the bed. Her dress was already scrunched up around her waist and when she felt my fingers snake beneath her knickers, she raised her hips so I could sweep them off.





Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 01



"What's on your mind?" She asked, but when I said nothing she repeated the statement adding, "Tell me."

I bent down and kissed her inviting lips, the door was now open and I was stood on the threshold. I looked down on her beautifully innocent face and wondered how she could see through me as if I were glass.

"I think." I started, but what was caught on my tongue was going to sound so stupid, I just stopped dead.

"Go on." She urged. I took a deep breath.

"I know it's stupid, but I could very easily fall in love with you." I said, my cheeks alight once more.

"I think you already have." She said simply, as she touched my cheek with her hand. "Good night Philip."

I turned and walked away slowly, desperately hoping she would call me back, but the door clicked shut behind me.



Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 02



Another night to remember with Avril

If you missed the first chapter and would like to catch up, it's also in Celebrities under Love. Lust. Lost. (Ch. 01). Thanks!

The ear-shattering shriek of the alarm clock man-handled me out of the deepest sleep. The room was still blanketed in blackness and a sheen of sweat coated my skin.

 I reached out and fumbled for the clock, its shrill shout promising to split my skull. My fingers found the plastic case, but it slipped and landed with a thump on the carpet.

"Fuck."

I sat up, scrabbling for the bedside lamp. The stark glare assaulted my eyes and I scrunched them shut. I rubbed them with hands screwed up into fists and tried again, but they were still not prepared for the invasion.

I swung my foot blindly and connected with the clock. The pain that flared through my toes was sated as the clock hit the wall and spat out the battery, bathing the room in a golden silence.

With my feet flat on the carpet and my elbows on my knees, I rested my chin on my hands and finally managed to open my eyes.

Mornings are not my thing.

My mobile rang. I can't stand musical ring tones, so it trilled like a digital phone. It sounded too much like my alarm clock. I snatched it off the table.

"Yep." I barked.

"Oh dear." It was Dave from work.

"Er. Dave? What the fuck. It's…I don't even know what time it is."

"You told me to wake you, remember? We've got breakfast at the Moat House with BBH at seven. Assuming you still work here obviously."

"Yeah. Cheers mate. How was it yesterday?" I asked, my voice like gravel.

"Quiet. You did the right thing. This meeting goes well, and no one will give a shit anyway. You gonna be there in time?"

"Course I am. Look, what time is it? I think I just killed my clock."

"It's just gone six. You've got an hour. Shall I pick you up?"

"I'll be there before any of you. It's only ten minutes away and I need the air."

"Where did you end up last night anyway? You sound like you've only been in bed ten minutes."

I laughed humourlessly. "See you at seven." I said and killed the call.

"Six o'clock" I said to no one in particular and shook my head. I'd been asleep for about forty minutes and was still dressed.

I stripped and fumbled through to the bathroom. I flicked the switch and once again squinted against the invasion from the vivid fluorescent tube that stretched across the ceiling.

I squinted in the mirror whilst I waited for the shower to heat up. Where the hell had I been last night? I leaned closer to my reflection. Dark and swollen rings hung like bruises beneath my eyes, absurdly complimenting my dark stubble, and there was a red welt on my cheek. I touched it carefully and it smudged. I blinked hard, trying to focus my vision and my sleep-deprived mind. I touched it again. It was lipstick. Then in a sudden moment of clarity I realised I could smell perfume and the previous night came flooding back, wrenching the breath from my lungs.

"Fuck." Was the only thing I could think to say. I stepped into the shower and felt the hot water slowly inject a semblance of life into me and my mind flashed back to last night. Reluctantly, I washed her scent from my skin knowing that whilst I'd never forget it, I would also never really capture it.

My body was numb and my stomach churned. I was in love, but it was a dead love already lost and the pain was deep. I felt fourteen again. The same as I had on a cold winter's day at school. February the tenth. The day Jennifer Carter, every fourteen year olds wet dream, walked up to me after a school football match and kissed me as I stood with my hair steaming and mud streaked over my face. The day she had told everyone her parents were moving, so whilst my body exploded with feelings I had never felt before, I knew it was the only kiss I would ever enjoy.

But I was twenty-three, she was just nineteen. I had loved and lost before, so I knew the feelings that tangled inside me. But love at first sight? Reducing myself to a physical, emotional and mental wreck overnight?

I was stood back in front of the mirror dragging a razor across my face.

"Get a fucking grip on yourself." I mocked, my voice stronger now my body had submitted to consciousness. I stood up straight and took a deep breath, closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the meeting, the day ahead and saving my job. The rest would have to wait. I opened my eyes, but my stomach still boiled.

Stepping out into the damp morning, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, and sank my shoulders into my warm overcoat. My laptop was slung over my shoulder and I focussed on the meeting as I wandered almost alone though the dark streets.

I don't remember at which point my mind strayed, but when a female voice spoke to me my mind swam lazily into focus.

"Stay in or take-away?"

"Take away." I replied looking down at the till to see what I had ordered, but the screen changed before I saw and I reached for my wallet. I hoped I had ordered a straight cappuccino, it was too early for something sweet. My feet had trudged me around to Starbucks, but not just any of the four in town, but the one I had been in the previous evening. As I waited for the barista I tried to tell myself that it was the logical one to be at as I wasn't heading for the office, but I wondered just how long this would last. How long would I walk around the town where I had spent most of my life and think, this is where we did this, that is the place where we…and so on?

The barista cleared her throat and I looked up as she handed me the large take-out cup.

"Too early." She said and I nodded, wondering how many times she had tried to attract my attention. I smiled, mumbled my thanks and headed back outside.

Cappuccino with an extra shot - at least one part of me had a grip on reality. I responded instantly to the piping hot liquid, more at the thought of caffeine than the actual buzz itself, which I hoped would arrive in time for the meeting. As the warmth spread, I actually felt my body come alive. I straightened up, squared my shoulders and held my head high. My stride lengthened and my pace quickened. Finally, my mind turned to the meeting.

I drained my cup, pitched it into the bin and strode confidently through the revolving doors into the lobby of the Moat House Hotel. God, this place needs a refurb', I thought, and wondered how long it had been since I was last here.

Carl and Dom from BBH were already in reception, still in their coats and clutching their briefcases. Instinctively, I checked my watch and the clock behind the concierge's desk. I was early and had beaten Dave.

…

Dave and I stood shoulder to shoulder and watched as Carl and Dom disappeared through the hotel doors.

"Bloody hell." Breathed Dave beside me. "Bloody hell. You did it." His voice unable to hide his excitement.

"We did it." I said and a smile as wide as mine spread across his face.

The lobby was filled with the rising aroma of lunch. The meeting had stolen the whole morning. Breakfast was taken, then cleared and the restaurant cleaned and set for lunch and as staff realised we weren't going to budge, they simply made sure the coffee pot was full and steaming.

Finally, as morning surrendered to afternoon, Carl put pen to paper and slid the contract across the table. And that was that. They stood, shook hands, gathered their papers and left.

I blinked hard and when I opened my eyes they had disappeared. I turned back towards the restaurant and saw the waitress staring nervously after us. I dug Dave in the ribs,

"Think I'd better go and settle the tab." I said and turned towards the young woman, a look of instant relief spreading over her face.

"I'll call the office." Dave said, reaching for his phone.

"Not yet." I said and checked my watch. "I think I might buy you a drink first."

As the waitress waited for my corporate credit card to clear, I gathered up the paperwork and flicked absent-mindedly through the contract. One million pounds over four years. The largest single service contract the agency had ever signed. What's more, my MD was sat in his office waiting for me to bring back contract amendments, not signed paperwork. After yesterday, I figured Dave and I deserved to bask in our own glory for awhile before heading back.

…

The office actually stopped. Heads turned, conversation was choked off and all eyes followed me. It seems I was the only grape on the gossip-vine and I began to wonder if I had already been terminated.

I shrugged my coat off and hung it next to the one I had left yesterday, reaching immediately for the phone. Janice, the MD's usually friendly secretary picked up the phone and answered my request for a meeting curtly.

"He's waiting for you." She said with unmistakable authority.

I replaced the phone and took a deep breath, alarmed at the slight tremor in my clammy hands.

"Dave." I called too loudly, to where he was chatting up one of the junior account managers. "Upstairs. Sharpish." I grabbed the contract like a talisman and headed for the stairs.

"You alright?" Dave asked as the fire door swung behind us and the office resumed its previous bustle.

"Don't know." I said, stopping with one foot on the first step, my hand on the polished banister. "Something's going on." I turned to face him, looking down on my junior with the advantage of several inches of height and a step. "I think I may have fucked it yesterday." I paused, I wasn't comfortable with this, I had been taught not to lie, however small, by a previous boss, who seemed to be able to pluck the truth out of your soul, then use it to beat you into submission with. "Look, I may need you to do me a favour. I'm not going to land you in the shit, trust me. But if I go off on a tangent, I need you to go with it." He raised an eye-brow questioningly. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Dave. If I'm gone, I won't take you with me." I felt him relax beneath my hand and I nodded my thanks, then turned and headed up the stairs. Not only did I need this job, with this contract in place, I actually wanted it. It would make life very interesting, not to mention the bonus we were both due being not far short of our respective annual salaries.

I walked into the ante-room and Janice waved us straight through. I knocked out of courtesy, but stepped straight in, knowing he would not invite us in.

"Ah." Said the sexagenarian as he leant back in his huge, black leather armchair, his ancient mahogany desk dominating the room. He pushed his gold half-moon glasses up his nose and fired me a look that stopped me in my tracks. I could actually hear my heart and feel it pumping in my temples.

"So, you've decided to join us today." He said, turning theatrically towards the clock on the windowsill and I wondered fleetingly if he could actually see what time it was. For the record, it was ten past two. For the record, I kept that little nugget to myself.

"Erm. Look, I'm sorry about yesterday." I flustered, looking down at my shoes. "I, er, I'm sorry. It was unprofessional." I looked up to see him wave his hand dismissively.

"It was and I know you're sorry." He said still staring at me stood half-way between his desk and the door with Dave hidden behind me like a naughty school boy. "What I'm more concerned about is why you've taken until now to crawl into work – both of you."

"Um" Dave mumbled behind me, and I finally found my tongue.

"Mr Johnson, we've been with BBH about the incentive programme." I said suspiciously as I didn't believe his tack-sharp mind had forgotten anything in his life. This time he checked the time-piece on his wrist, a beautiful gold Patek Philippe treasure his wife had bought him on his fiftieth.

"The seven o'clock breakfast meeting at the Moat House." It was a statement. I nodded. "It's not that far away." He said, looking out of the leaded window as if he could actually see the hotel. Instinctively, my eyes followed his.

"Actually. Sir. The meeting's only just finished. It went on all morning. Plus a bit actually. They signed it. The contract I mean. No amendments. One mill. Four years." Dave machine-gunned behind me, and I stepped aside to give him room.  

"That it?" the MD said, pointing an arthritic finger at the paper I was still clutching.

The silence in the room whilst he scanned the contract was excruciating and despite myself, I shuffled my feet nervously. Finally, he looked up, head-masterly over the rim of his glasses.

"No changes?"

"None at all." I replied, shaking my head.

"How did you manage that?"

"Phil knows the product inside out, sir, he ran through it all, through the pitch, talked them around on the contract, they signed it no problem in the end." I was worried Dave wasn't going to take a breath. It was a ramble in total contrast to his earlier automatic fire.

I watched as Mr Johnson stood up and walked purposefully towards us.

"Hell of a job." He said, extending his hand. I shook it, amazed as always at the strength in his long, bony fingers. "Hell of a job." He repeated almost under his breath as he smiled a smile full of nicotine-yellowed teeth. "So, what the hell happened yesterday?" He said standing up straight in front of me, almost matching my 6"4 frame.

"Flipped out." I shrugged. "It just got to me and I flipped out. I'm sorry."

"So you've said. He's not good at not getting his own way." He said to Dave, before firing me a look out of the corner of his eye. I smiled and nodded in agreement. He was damn right there. He stopped and turned sharply back towards me, looking into my eyes with a blazing intensity. "Nothing wrong with that, young man." He said, then he poked me with the end of his index finger, just above the pocket of my jacket. "You just have to make sure you're always bloody right, that's the problem with that." He said with a humourless grin. "But this time, you're lucky. You were right."

He was back behind his desk leaning on it, his palms flat on the surface as he looked us both up and down, before turning back to me. "At least it looks like you were up all night preparing." He said and again I nodded in agreement. I knew I looked like shit. It had been a very long thirty hour day. "Or more likely out on the piss, feeling sorry for yourself, because you didn't get your own way and thought you're tantrum had cost you your beer tokens." I shook my head and couldn't suppress a smile. He'd got me again. Again he walked around his desk.

"Don't make a habit of it." He said and I found myself counting my laces again. "And congratulations!" I looked up from the floor. "Both of you." He shook our hands warmly again. "Now go home, get some sleep and we'll announce it to everyone at 9am."

…

I have no idea what woke me, but my heart was charging. The room was dark, my legs were numb, I could feel my pulse in my temples and taste the coppery tang of blood in my throat.

 I sat up and swung my legs onto the floor. They had been draped over the end of my couch.

I bent down and gently massaged life back into my calf muscles. I was still in my suit, my tie still tight around my neck. I peered at my watch. It was almost seven o'clock. I had been asleep for a couple of hours.

My stomach rattled, reminding me of how long it had been since breakfast. I was ravenous, and as soon as my legs regained enough life to support me, I hobbled off in search of anything instantly edible.

I flicked the wall switch and the spotlights banished the shadows from the four corners of the kitchen. The cooker's digital clock confirmed the time as 6.55pm. I stooped and pulled open the fridge, the seal giving way with a pop.

Reaching in, I grabbed a block of cheddar and a jar of mayonnaise and swung the door shut to reach for the bread. The gig ticket was stuck to the front with a Beefeater fridge magnet and I wondered briefly who had treated me to that, but my mind was not ready to relinquish that little gem.

I pulled a half eaten loaf from the breadbin and checked it over for signs of mould, but it was fine, if a little dry. Turning away from the freezer, I dropped the items onto the white work surface and started to reach for a knife to cut the cheese and froze.

I turned back to the freezer and stared at the ticket. I reached out and plucked it off the door, the magnet fell and bounced with a clatter.

Doors opened in half an hour with support at eight. Instantly my stomach boiled. I turned back to my sandwich, but my appetite was gone.

"This is fucking ridiculous." I said to no one and instead turned back to the freezer and retrieved a bottle of Ketel One, the glass so cold, my fingers stuck to the layer of ice shrouding the bottle.

I threw the first one down my neck and refilled the tall shot glass. The thick, icy liquid slid like oil down my throat before igniting and sweeping through my body like a fire-bomb.

I placed the second shot on the counter and picked up the ticket. Holding it in shaking hands, I twisted the paper and started to tear. If I skip the gig, I can start to put all this behind me and get back the confidence that seemed to have been stripped from me overnight. Besides, I had plenty to look forward to. When the client scribbled on that contract, it started the ball rolling on a twenty grand bonus in my next pay packet – eighty percent of my annual salary.

I stared at the tear. It had stopped growing, the pressure from my grip gone.

Why not go anyway. I thought. You don't have to go back-stage. Just go, watch and come home. I swapped the ticket for the shot glass, this time just sipping the top off the vodka. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back as if swallowing a tablet. Go to the gig and not go backstage? Well that wasn't going to happen.

Feeling like a love-sick teenager, my hunger was history and the fact that the ticket was not lying in shreds told me everything I needed to know. God knows what I would do if I got there and there was no pass, or if I saw her and she introduced me to the band, had a drink and then sent me packing, but I simply had to find out. I could not ignore the chance to taste those candy lips once more.

It was 7.15pm and I was just wasting time. Vodka in hand, I headed for the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, my hair damp, I grabbed my denim jacket and headed out. Rock City was just across town, so I knew, queues permitting, that I could still be there, pint in hand, by the time the support band started.

Walking briskly to generate defence against the chill, I strode through town and let my mind wander back over the previous evening. I was helpless to control my feelings, so I gave in and let them control me.

The venue was like a magnet and the closer I got, the sicker I felt. I was glad I had not managed to eat anything, I think it would have ended up in the gutter. It felt like a first date where I was convinced I would be stood up. At twenty-three I thought this was all behind me. The constant thrill and agony of first love is a marvellous part of being a teenager – with hindsight at least - but not now.

…

Standing in the short queue outside Rock City, the wind bit through my clothing and the film of sweat that had formed on my back seemed to freeze and sap the heat from my skin.

The two minute wait was an eternity and I shuffled my feet nervously as the queue crept forward.

Finally inside I felt the warmth start to seep back into my body. Initially, I walked straight past the ticket collection booth. I knew I could collect the pass at any time and was still trying to convince myself that I might just watch the gig and leave.

In the end, I didn't even get to the back of the queue for the cloakroom, before I turned and headed for the girl sat behind the window.




Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 02



"Er. Hi." I said so she looked up from her magazine, her jaws working overtime on a whole packet of gum. "I think there should be a pass for me. Is this where I pick it up?" The girl nodded and pulled a wooden box in front of her filled with sealed white envelopes.

"Name?"

"Philip er Jenkins." I mumbled, almost unable to speak, but my heart sank as she searched fruitlessly through the box.

"Who left you the ticket?" She asked, her face a mask of terminal boredom.

"Er. I'm a friend of the band." I said vaguely.

"Oh. Right." She said, her manner transforming and her face proving it wouldn't crack if it had to be subjected to a smile. Standing, she reached up and retrieved a second, smaller box from a shelf above the window.

"Mr Jenkins?" she asked. I nodded. She flicked more carefully though the box, but just looked up and shook her head.

"It's not here." She said. There was a slight shrug of her black clad shoulders. "Do you know who left it for you?"

"Actually it was Avril." I said "But if it's not about, it doesn't matter. I'll catch up with her later or something." I said, trying to sound nonchalant whilst my crestfallen soul lay shattered at my feet. I waved my hand and started to turn away, my eyes hot and stinging.

"You know Avril?" She asked, her manner totally transformed. I nodded and returned her shrug.

"Look, if it's a problem, it doesn't matter." I repeated, again turning to go, suddenly sure that it was time to make a break for it and head home.

"Wait a sec." She called, stopping me in my tracks. "Davey?" She called out of the side of the booth, towards someone I could not see. "Davey. Have you got a pass for a Mr Jenkins?"

Almost instantly an enormous bald head poked comically into view sideways.

"Mr Jenkins?" growled Humpty in a deep, gravely voice. I nodded and he appeared in full view, stooping to be seen through the window. He was no longer comical in any way, he must have been 6"10 and 350 pounds. "Come this way." He said and the girl nodded at me approvingly.

Hulk Humpty opened a door that was set into the wall with no handle on my side and beckoned me through. As I stepped over the threshold he handed me a red credit card pass on a length of matching ribbon.

 "Don't lose this. They're gold." He said. I slipped the ribbon around my neck. "Tuck it in." He said. "I'll introduce you to a few guys. Once they know you, you won't need it anyway. Basically, you can go anywhere with that, but I'll show you where anywhere is. There's free food, a bar and of course the chill-out room and bands dressing rooms."

He led me down a corridor and through another door which came out in a private bar.

"John," he called to a man of equal stature, "this is Mr Jenkins. He's a red." Humpty looked down at me. "Okay?" He asked. I nodded. "John's your man, but basically, that's it. There's the bar, the food's through there, the hall is through that one." He continued, pointing the way with colossal sausage fingers. "And the bands are through there. The support'll be on in about ten." He continued checking his watch. "They're worth a peek. Pretty good." And with that, he turned and left. I nodded at John. It all felt a little surreal, especially as I was now here on my own, whilst 1,500 people queued for a beer on the other side of the wall. I did the only thing you can do in these circumstances. I turned to the bar and put myself at the head of a queue of one.

I sipped my pint and listened to the muffled tuning up and sound checks. People, mostly event security, drifted in and out, some wandered through to the performer's area, others simply seemed to be filling time. A squat man in a dark suit strode confidently through, nodded to staff and looked at me suspiciously, then strode on without a word.

"Support'll be on in five." John called and I nodded in recognition.

"Where is everyone? Or does everyone with a magical red pass get their own private bar?"

"Not many people with an all-areas pass stop for a drink. They're in too much of a rush to get through there." He said, nodding towards the door with its misleading 'Performers Only' plague screwed to it. "I'm guessing you're not a competition winner."

"Friend of the band." I said self-importantly. "Thought they'd probably have better things to do with themselves. I can catch up with them after the gig." I looked briefly towards the door, my guts like a basket of snakes. I knew that just a thin piece of wood separated us, but I just didn't know if I could step through. What would I do if she treated me like a competition winner? What would I do if she jumped into my embrace and smothered me with kisses? I drained my pint and placed it on the bar next to its replacement already sitting their awaiting my attention. I nodded my thanks to the barman.

"Who's the support?" I asked gulping the head off my beer.

"Local guys. Hiding Place. They're pretty good." He finished as the noise levels rose, indicating that the roadies had probably left the stage.

I was busy nursing my pint and staring at a gig list pinned to the wall, ready to head into the hall when the support band took to the stage. I didn't notice the performer's door open.

"God, there you are. I thought you'd stood me up." Her drawl cut me dead and the condensation-speckled glass almost slipped through my fingers. As I turned, I just managed to fumble it safely on to the bar.

I turned to face her, blushing from my hair to my socks. She bounced towards me beaming, her hair kissing her shoulders. She was dressed simply in faded blue Levis and one of her own tour t-shirts tightly hugging her frame, her pert breasts pressing firmly against the stretched cotton.

I stepped towards her and opened my arms to greet her. She leaped into my embrace and I enveloped her in my arms and swung her around, feeling my heart race as she wrapped her feet around my calves, crushing her body against mine. She smelled fresh from the shower. Soap clean, with just a hint of perfume. Lost in her touch and smell, I felt my body react until my jeans were full and tight.

As our pirouette slowed, her feet found the floor and she withdrew her face from where it was buried in my neck, her smile replaced by a serious expression I did not recognise. Her eyes were moist and sparkling. She reached up on the very tips of her toes and kissed my lips. Our bodies were still pressed tightly and as her tongue brushed my lips, I heard her moan as she ground her hips against me before severing the kiss.

"Come on," she said, taking my hand, "we can watch the support from the balcony. There's everything you need. Food. Drink. Me." And with that she dragged me through the door as applause rose from the hall and the opening chords rang out.

…

Introductions to the band were a blur. It was nice and all that, but not why I was here and her reaction to me downstairs had simply rocketed my expectations into orbit. The bar was festooned with party food, but my tangled gut just flipped at the thought.

As the band played, the privileged crowd scattered around the balcony ate, drank and jostled for position with the band, so with a fresh pint, I found myself alone in a crowd, my eyes constantly following her as she PR'd the pack.

…

By the time the support struck into their anthem and their loyal band bounced to the beat, my body had been numbed by free beer and my eyes ached from straining unblinkingly at her through the gloom. As the rest of her band began to drift backstage, she walked across to me, her hands clasped behind her back, her shoulders swinging. Her familiar confidence had evaporated and she approached me like a nervous teenager.

"Are you coming back for a bit?" She shouted up into my ear.

"Yeah!" I blurted out, eager not to lose her now I had her attention. "Er. But I don't want to be in the way." I said, suddenly feeling very much like a competition winner. She just fired me a look that made me feel like a kid, so when she stretched up and whispered,

"I'll make it worth your while." Her hot breath tickling my ear, I followed her through the thinning crowd, eyes burning holes in my back.

…

She kicked her dressing room door shut and threw herself into my arms.

"God, I've wanted you all fucking day." She said and sealed her lips around mine, her tongue desperate and searching. "Last night really lit my fuse." She said staring impenetrably into my eyes. "You've no idea what you were doing to me. I thought you'd stood me up. I'm the kinda girl who gets her own way. I was fucking furious." The disbelief in her voice was clear evidence of her own rock-solid self-confidence. I shrugged.

"Fat fucking chance." I said and kissed her hungrily.

"Does that ever sleep?" She said, squeezing the painful bulge straining against my jeans. I simply moaned at her touch, just wanting more.

 She grabbed my belt and dragged me to the table by the far wall of the small room. She tugged on it frantically, then almost tore the buttons off my jeans. My steel hard, painfully restrained cock sprang free through the fly of my shorts and she sank her lips immediately around it.

I leaned back against the edge of the table as she scooped my balls out and held them tightly in her hand, squeezing them rhythmically as she swallowed my cock inch by inch, until I felt her flinch as I filled her throat. As she retreated back up my shaft, there was a ring of scarlet lipstick around the base of my cock, glistening with her saliva.

I ran my fingers through her long hair and each time she slid down, I pushed her the extra inch until I heard her grunt. As she sucked, her tongue explored every ridge and vein of my swollen shaft, always eager to please.

She wrapped her right hand tightly around the base of my cock and bobbed her head faster as she found less of my shaft to work with.

Kneeling down and changing the angle, she pulled my cock down more horizontally and rocked back and forth on her ankles. The sensation of her tongue working my cock was heaven and I let her dictate her own pace, taking my hands off her head and instead gripped the lip of the table until my knuckles whitened.

As she salivated over my dick, my shaft shone and her saliva ran over my balls. She looked up into my eyes, watching me watching her and grinned around my cock, enjoying the ride as much as I was. Her eyes were wide, wild and filled with lust.

"Oh fuck." I whispered as I stared down at her. ""Oh god, that should do it." I gasped and my reaction simply spurred her on. Her hand was a blur and she sucked greedily on my very sensitive tip, leaving the middle portion exposed and shining in the harsh lighting.

Her lips and tongue concentrating on my tip made my legs quiver and I leant more heavily on the table to take the weight off my feet.

"Shit. That's good." I panted. "Oh yeah."

Again she looked into my eyes and winked cheekily. It sent me cascading over the abyss. "Shit. Oh. Shit yes." I panted and felt my cock harden further, twitch and with that I came.

With her lips clamped tightly around my spasming shaft, she squeezed my balls and sucked me until I was spent, never once letting her eyes leave mine. She gulped once and then rested both hands on my thighs as she slowly ran her tongue around my tip until the sensation was simply too extreme to bare and I had to bend down and scoop her back onto her feet, whilst my legs trembled with the force of my orgasm.

She grinned at me, content at being able to reduce me to such a wreck. I bent down and kissed her, her lips slightly sticky with the residue of my semen. I moaned as she ran her fingernails lightly down my face.

Hardly a word had passed between us, since she had dragged me off the balcony and the silence was only broken by an authoritative rap on the door that had me clambering at my jeans.

"Stage in five." Came the holler before they strode off to the room next door.

 "I'd better…" She said and I nodded.

"See you later." I said as she turned to leave. "Knock 'em dead." I called after her, but she was gone. I waited a moment until I heard the second door open and close, and I knew she was next door with the rest of the guys.

Guiltily, I stuck my head out, but the corridor was empty, so I scuttled out, my legs still quivering, the stiffness in my jeans refusing to die.

…

By the time the band took the stage for the third encore, they were exhausted, but the crowd, not ready to let them leave, rose as one as the spotlight illuminated Avril, already stood, clasping the microphone in both hands, her guitar hanging from its strap around her neck.

I had spent the gig wandering between the pit and the balcony for two totally different views and atmospheres. It also ensured I neither had to pay or queue for a drink. This time, I was stood at the front of the balcony, my elbows resting on the rail, staring down at the band through the white hot lights.

As the guitars picked up the intro, I watched her as she looked around the crowd, then up to the balcony and finally to where I stood and her eyes rested on mine, staying that way until the end of the first line, before she resumed her very public love affair with her audience.

…

The buzz backstage was unmistakable. The sold-out gig was a total success. The band had enjoyed the never ending encores and the crowd, when it finally left, did so with a well satisfied babble.

The support band was milking the limelight and did their best to intercept anyone who they thought may be heading past their dressing room. I managed to escape their clutches as they locked on to a group of girls and headed off down the corridor.

As I past her dressing room, I recognised her voice and turned instinctively to it. Still in her stage gear, her long hair was wet and plastered to her face and neck, her t-shirt, dark with perspiration, clung to her skin. She saw me and motioned for me to stay where I was. She wrapped up the conversation and briefly introduced me to her PR manager, before ushering her out and me in.

Even dishevelled and sweaty her beauty was unmistakeable, perhaps more so as it was now pure and un-cosmetic. She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me into her arms. Her eyes were electric, her mind wired on adrenaline.

"What d'ya reckon?" She asked, her fist full of my shirt.

"Pretty cool." I replied. I've loved live music ever since my folks first let me out, and it would be fair to say it was up there with the best.

She smiled, content at the compliment and probably glad that I hadn't simply poured treacle over her for the sake of it. She reached up and kissed me, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth. This time it was my turn to moan as my heart dissolved. Her natural scent filled my senses and flooded my head. In an instant I was lost again, but she pulled away.

"Ugh. I need a shower." She grunted, turning her nose up and stepping away, running her fingers through her hair to scrape it from her face and neck. "You hungry?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Hungry for something." To which she responded with a sharp punch to my upper arm. "A little." I replied "What's your plan?"

"Shower, change, drink, eat." She said. "Sound good?" I nodded, still unable to tear my eyes from her.

"Do you want me to ring ahead and grab somewhere. It's getting late. How many are there?"

"Just two. I'll leave where up to you." She kicked off her trainers and started to pull her t-shirt off over her head, stopping just short of her breasts, leaving me with a tantalising view of her flat stomach and, excruciatingly, the initial swell of her breasts. "You might want to get a drink in the bar, I don't want to embarrass you again."

"I could always stay and scrub your back." She stepped back over to me, her hands still frozen in the process of pulling off her t-shirt.

"They'd better be time for that later. You owe me" She pouted and kissed me again, before turning for the bathroom, pitching her t-shirt into the corner of the room as she went.

…

It was knocking on the door of tomorrow by the time she made it to the bar and the place was deserted except for the crash and thump of the road crew dismantling the stage. Full of beer and bubbles, I had moved on to Jack Daniels and ice, by the glass not the bottle, so the rock n' roll image was not quite complete.

I was perched on a table chatting to one of the crew, a Hell's Angel living tattoo, when Avril walked in. In complete contrast to the previous evening, she had swapped the elegance of her satin dress for the plainly simple blue jeans and dark green long-sleeved t-shirt. Her hair, which was still wet from the shower, was pulled back into a tight pony tail that hung between her shoulder blades. She wore similar lipstick to the previous evening, although this is where the make-up stopped, showing off her pale and perfect skin.

"Vodka?" I asked. She screwed up her face and shook her head like a child refusing their medicine.

"No. Let's get out of here. I need some fresh air." She said taking my hand and dragging me towards the exit, her eyes still aflame.

"So what's the plan?" She asked as the stage door swung shut behind us.

"Well," I began, eager to know what she would think of my carefully hatched plan. "I thought if you were hungry, we could just grab a burger. There's not much else open at this time of night." I continued with a quick shrug. "Then, as you treated me last night, how about I treat you and we head back to the hotel for a bottle of fizz?"

"Are you going to go all stalker on me again?"

I shook my head and slipped my arm around her. The funny thing was, now I had got her to myself, I would be content with just enjoying her company. I knew this really was the end, there would be no tomorrow, and if last night was to be the only night we slept together, well, perhaps that would help preserve it in my mind. She returned the favour and slipped her hand into the back pocket of my jeans, pulling herself close and resting her head against my arm. On the other hand.

…

McDonalds was deserted and we bagged a table upstairs by the window so we could look out across the town centre. After what for me had been tantamount to a 40-hour day, I was famished - a feeling clearly shared by Avril. Within minutes what had looked like an impossible mountain of food was reduced to wrappers and with the detritus spread across the yellow plastic table, we both sat back and coaxed the food down into our stomachs.

Full and warm, my body submitted to an overwhelming fatigue and after the third stifled yawn, she leant across the mess and took my hands.

 "Am I keeping you up or just boring you?" I shook my head.

"It's been a very long day."

"Do you want to call it a night?"

"That depends on what you mean by call it a night." I said, suddenly aware that she may be looking for the opportunity to bail out. "I'm not ready to go home just yet, if that's what you mean."

"There's no way you're going home yet. I'm looking forward to what a man with your tastes classes as good champagne. Besides, I'm still wired. I could keep you going all night." She added with a sly smirk.

"For that, I could stay up all week."

"Speaking of which, what's your recovery time like normally?" She asked, leaning closer to me across the table, smiling wickedly.

"Pretty good." I replied "Why are you ready for it now?"

"Yeah. I am. Right now." She said, glancing furtively around the deserted floor. "I've been horny as fuck all night."

"Well what did you have in mind, just sweeping all this onto the floor and going for it on the table?" As she raised an eyebrow at my suggestion as she nibbled sexily on her bottom lip.

Without a word, she stood and walked past me. I craned my neck unsure whether I was supposed to follow, but she didn't look back so I watched as disappeared through the toilet door.




Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 02



Still not sure if I was meant to follow or if it was all a wind up, I stayed put. The growing bulge in my jeans was in no mood to be teased, so as I waited for her to reappear, I distractedly piled our detritus onto a tray.

She cleared her throat to attract my attention and when I looked around, she was holding the toilet door open and wearing nothing but a smile. Her hair out of its pony tail, lay over her shoulders, her pale skin, pure white against the harsh fluorescent glare.

The door swung shut behind me and I could see her clothes folded and piled neatly on the closed lid inside the single cubicle. As she had done earlier in the evening, she grabbed a handful of my shirt and pulled me through the door, locking it behind her.

 Fumbling with the buttons, she managed to unhook two, before simply pulling it off over my head, throwing it behind her.

"Come here and fuck me." She ordered as she wrestled with my belt. After a moments struggle, I took over, tearing open the buttons on my jeans and pushing them and my boxers down around my ankles.

As soon as she saw my hard cock saluting the ceiling, she wrapped her arms around my neck and when I lifted her slightly, she locked her legs around my hips.

"Fuck me. Treat me mean. Then buy me champagne and make it better." She pleaded as she reached down and guided my cock into her tight, wet pussy. The contrast to last night could not be more startling. Still wired, she needed release with the same energy and passion she used on stage. As soon as I slipped inside her, she ground her hips down, swallowing my length into her body.

Burying her head in my neck, she continued to urgently thrust her hips towards me and I held her weight by cupping her buttocks in my hands, aiding her own thrusts as I pulled her into me.

"Jesus." She moaned into my ear. "I'm cumming." She wailed out loud. I pressed her naked back against the cubicle wall and thrust into her as hard as I could. She yelped and moaned and as she came, she lifted her head from my neck and looked deep into my eyes, before kissing me, her tongue exploring my lips and mouth.

"Now it's your turn." She said, as her orgasm subsided and she regained some control over her body. "Fuck me hard." She ordered. "And cum on my tits." I looked at her and I admit I was a little startled. "What's. The. Matter?" she asked in between my increasingly frantic thrusts. "Did you think I was too cute to be dirty?" To which the answer would have been yes, had I given one. "C'mon" she urged. "Fuck me harder." I tried to oblige, propelling myself more frantically into her tiny frame. I felt her cunt tighten around my cock, gripping it. Her skin was hot and moist, almost slippery in my grasp.

"Shit" I groaned as I approached the point of no return. "Shit, I'm gonna cum."

"Do it." She urged, still fixing me with her electric stare. I groaned and thrust one last time into her taut pussy, then lifted her off my throbbing cock. "Do it." She repeated, kneeling down in front of me and squeezing her pert tits together.

I wrapped my hand around the base of my cock, the skin shining with her slick juice. I stroked it back and forth swiftly, our eyes still locked. I grunted and pointed my cock down towards her breasts.

"Oh shit." I grunted and watched as a jet of semen leapt from my cock and splashed across her knuckles and over her breasts. The second stream hit her neck and ran down her pale skin and the third fell short, falling below the target and running down over her stomach into her wild pubic mat.

With my cock spent, she leaned forward and took me into her mouth, cleaning it of both my seed and her juice, before holding it gently in her hand and staring up into my face.

I looked down at her kneeling before me, her hand, breasts and stomach plastered in my hot cum, then looked back to her face, beaming with joy and knew instantly that there was a sight I would never forget.

"Now wait for me downstairs." She said "It's champagne time."

- To be continued -

If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories. Thank you!



Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 03



- This is the third and final chapter of Love. Lust. Lost. I have broken the story down so reading them first is not essential, but if you want to check them out, they're also in the Celebrities section or you can find them by clicking on my username. Thanks. -

...

As we walked back through reception, I intercepted the concierge and ordered a chilled bottle of Bollinger accompanied by a pair of white and dark chocolate mousse off the room service menu.

"So where are the rest of the guys?" I asked as we stood by the bank of lifts.

"So where's the champagne?" She fired back, as ever ignoring any reference to the rest of the band.

"It's on its way." I said as I wound my arm around her slender shoulders. She looked gorgeously ruffled. Her hair hung down in parts and stuck up in others. Her top didn't look quite right somehow and as I pulled her close, I could smell sex steaming from her flushed skin. "You have never looked sexier." I whispered into her ear.

"I bet I look a mess."

"You look like you've been dragged through a toilet backwards." She turned, a wide grin stretched across her face, her eyes still hooked up. "So how long do you normally last after a show?"

"Normally a couple of hours, sometimes all night. Tonight feels like an all-nighter."

"I'll try and keep up." I promised. "And where are the guys?" I probed again.

"They'll be on their way to Sheffield. It's just me and Vicky, my PR. She's going to take me up to the gig tomorrow. I've got a signing in town in the morning."

"Doesn't that piss the band off?"

"Yep. But it's me the press want." She said and shrugged. "Tell me," she continued, "who was Alanys Morrisette's guitarist?" I held up my hands in submission.

"No idea."

"Exactly. That's the way it is. It does piss the band off, but my fame gets them paid and laid, so..." She just let the statement hang as the bell chimed and the lift doors slid apart.

...

"So what did you plan for the rest of the night?" She asked as the heavy hotel door swung shut with a bang and she kicked her trainers into the wardrobe. "I think I might grab a shower and freshen up."

She was stood facing away from me and I placed my hands on her shoulders, immediately feeling her lean back into me.

"I thought maybe we could run that giant bath and chill out, just you, me and the champagne." It had been nearly three years since I had enjoyed a bath with a girl, and with a bath you could almost swim in, it was an opportunity not to be missed. She turned around and looked at me quizzically, her forehead wrinkling.

"You're full of surprises. I thought you'd just want to jump into bed again." She said. "But you're quite the romantic really aren't you."

"Well it's been a funny sort of one night stand, so why not?" She took my hands in hers. "Do you regret any of this at all?" I was still seeking reassurance that this was at least a little special for her as well.

"You know this can't go any further, don't you?" She said over the thunder of running water. I smiled down at her, but my body sagged at the admission that there would be no fairytale.

"Hey, I'm a little more philosophical than last night. I've been a mess all day. I did nearly stand you up." I said as we stood in the bathroom. "Everything I said last night was true and tonight is not going to make tomorrow any easier but," I paused just a beat, "I wouldn't have swapped the last couple of days for the world." I was just about to say something else, when there was a sharp rap on the door.

When I returned with the champagne and glasses, the mousse placed on a bedside table for later, she was testing the water in the now full and foaming bath.

She took the bottle and glasses off me, raising her eyebrows in approval at my choice, and placed them on the tiled floor at the foot of the gigantic enamel bath.

She walked back over to me and placed her forefinger on my lips to stop me interrupting, then replaced the finger with her lips. Her touch was soft and caring, her lips moist and welcoming. She broke the embrace and looked up into my eyes.

"I want to say something and I need you to let me finish." My mind raced through a thousand scenarios, the last one was me sitting proudly on the tour bus, her acoustic guitar in my lap. "I've been on the road for almost six months. Every place I go looks the same and I've had almost no contact with my folks. Until yesterday, I can't remember when I last had a drink or a meal with someone who wasn't part of the crew." I watched the sparkle drain not just from her eyes, but from her soul and she seemed to sag with sadness. Suddenly she looked very young, very small and very fragile.

"This last day has been amazing, almost like a holiday and I know you agree that it seems like we've known each other all our lives. But." She paused, searching for words to follow, but I knew what was coming. She shook her head and blinked, unsure how to finish what she'd started. "But, I'd really like you to stay tonight, if you can. I know it's selfish, but trust me, this is not something I will forget in a very long time. It's just that there's no way it can work long term." I bent down and kissed her.

"Thank you." I said and she looked back at me blankly. "Thank you for being honest." I kissed her again. There was no way I would ever tire of doing that. "I'd love to stay and I promise I won't come up to Sheffield and hide in the bushes outside your hotel." That made her smile and the verve inside her re-inflated, the sparkle rekindled.

"Anyway stop stalling," she said as she started to strip down, "get that champagne open, I'm thirsty."

...

The hot water and cool bubbles left us both rosy cheeked and glowing as we lay stretched out and naked on the huge bed. The clock had passed two-thirty but the conversation refused to dry up.

I seemed to have found my second wind, although in reality it was probably the fourth or fifth. As she talked, I lay next to her, propped on my elbow with my cheek resting on the palm of my hand and captured every inch of her delightful body with my mental camera, storing away the images that I desperately hoped I would be able to recall at will for many months or years to come. From the tips of her tiny, almost childlike toes and up her pale legs to the brown thatch of pubic hair, passed the curve of her hips, over her flat stomach, beyond the crest of her firm breasts, with their raspberry nipples, to her full lips, soft smile and amazingly searching eyes. Eyes in which I was so completely lost that she obviously had to repeat the question before it broke through my overloaded senses.

She waved her hand in front of my glazed eyes and snapped her fingers. Suddenly, I blinked and focussed.

"Welcome back." She said. "I said, is it time for dessert yet?" I knew she'd been eyeing the mousse, since she'd found it on the bedside table and I was amazed that she had relented when I asked her to wait. I shook my head gently.

"Not just yet." I still had plans for that. For mine at least. I was desperately in need of a little recovery time and the mousse was my number one weapon of choice.

As if reading my mind, she slid effortlessly down the sheets until her head was level with mine and just inches away. She reached out and cupped my balls in the palm of her hand.

"Champagne makes me horny." She pouted. "How are your batteries?"

"Charging." I said, really not sure that I could go again just yet. After previous periods of abstinence, I have always been able to go again and again. I remember one particular time at university where I polished off a pack of twelve in a weekend, but I had had the chance to snooze in between, especially towards the end, but I figured that maybe another half an hour would probably do the trick. God alone knew how I was going to get through eight hours behind my desk tomorrow, especially if lunchtime turned into a celebration of the contract signing. Her hand dropped away and I could tell she was slightly disappointed.

"How the hell have you survived on tour by yourself, with an appetite like that?" She grinned back at me.

"When you don't get any at all, you forget that you miss it. It's like junk food. You can go for weeks without ever wanting a burger, but when you have one, you crave another and another, then suddenly one day, you realise it's been a couple of months and the cycle starts again."

She was right. I knew that from grave experience; unfortunately with regard to sex rather than burgers.

"So what will you do tomorrow night, when you're all alone, in a dark hotel room in Sheffield?"

"I can look after myself." She said with a sly smile and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes.

"Now that I would like to see." I said, raising my eyebrows and absent-mindedly licking my dry lips. She looked back with a puzzled expression that caused her forehead to furrow and the tip of her nose to turn up.

"Why would you like to see that?"

"That would be very sexy."

"It'd be gross." She said, her forehead wrinkling further but I shook my head in disagreement, pleasantly enjoying watching her squirm, her cheeks flushed red for a change rather than mine.

I leant over and kissed her cheek on my way to her ear.

"Show me." I whispered and sensed her shiver slightly as I breathed on her neck. When I pulled back, her gaze had dropped from mine and for once, she seemed unable to establish any kind of eye contact. "Do it." I urged quietly as she had done to me earlier. I closed the gap between us and kissed her gently on the lips. She moaned and shut her eyes.

"Show me." I repeated, and this time I ran my fingers lightly down her side, over her hips and felt her shiver. I kissed her again, working slowly from her cheek to her ear and neck. I could almost feel her tremble and kept each kiss, each touch, fleeting and teasingly soft.

"Show me." I repeated and heard her moan. Her embarrassment battled with her rising desire, leaving me to ponder which would win. I nibbled gently on her ear lobe, before returning briefly to her gorgeous full lips. Then I pulled back away from her completely.

Her eyes were still closed, her head propped up on her hand the same as me, her other arm, bent at the elbow, rested on the side of her ribcage.

I reached out and briefly intertwined my fingers in hers and she gripped my hand. Gently, I slid it down over her stomach until our fingers tangled in her public hair. She nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes still clenched shut. In the half light of the bedside lamps she looked more beautiful than ever and in time it was the image I would find the simplest to recall.

I lightly touched the folds of skin beneath her pubic hair and felt her melt. Still holding her hand in mine, I slowly rubbed her and whimpering, she yielded and moved her legs apart.

I slipped my hands between her legs and touched her warmth, my fingers gently sliding over her moistness and fidgeting between her folds of flesh. She slid down the bed until she lay flat on her back, her head just below the pillow, and gently, I dipped my index finger inside her. Releasing her hand from mine, I turned hers over, so the palm was flat against her pubic bone, with my hand on top of hers and pushed my index finger, and hers underneath, inside her. She groaned and as she pulled her finger back out, she ran it slowly up the folds of her labia and found her clitoris with owner's precision, causing her to twitch as her excitement flourished. I withdrew my hand from hers, pleased that she didn't stop when I did.

As she played with herself in a totally relaxed slow-motion, I kissed her lips, licking them as I tasted her. She was lost in herself and did not respond, so instead, I worked my way down her neck to her breasts, taking each nipple in turn into my mouth and nibbling on it until it stood stiff and swollen.

I continued my journey south and kissed her stomach and was pleased to be closer to her hand as it still worked with a gentle intensity around her sensitive button, her finger exploring the folds of skin and occasionally dipping into her pussy.

As I kissed past her navel, I could smell her scent and see her honey coating her finger. Above me, she groaned between snatched, short breaths.

I kissed down her right thigh to her knee, my tongue always on the prowl as I moved south, my eyes never once leaving her fingers.

I slipped off the bed and watched her masturbate. As her arousal intensified, the motions of her hand increased and she pushed her middle finger inside herself, using her index finger and thumb to massage her button. Her groans became moans and in between each, I could hear the soft squelch of her finger as her tight pussy began to flood and sucked on her finger with each penetration.

Her hips began to thrust upwards to meet her hand and her middle finger was joined by her ring finger as she slipped a second inside.

Her fingers shone with her juice and my gaze switched constantly between her hand, as she brought herself towards orgasm, and her gorgeous face, her teeth still biting her lip and her forehead creased as she controlled her own lust.

"Fuck." She giggled, embarrassed at her own voice. "Ummm." It was a long, drawn out moan and she began to rub her clitoris more forcefully with her thumb. "Yes. Oh yes." She muttered and then suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she focussed on me at the end of the bed. She pushed her fingers into herself with urgency and bucked her hips to meet her thrusting hand. 

"Oh. God. Oh. Yes." Then she paused and was silent. She sucked a huge breath into her lungs and let out the longest sigh that for a moment seemed would never end, then her body went limp and she was silent again.

I watched her for what seemed like an age until she opened her eyes again.

"Like that?" She asked.

"Exactly like that."

"Well it seemed to work." She said, her smiling face flushed and contented.

"It certainly did." I said referring to her orgasm, not realising that was not what she meant.

"Not just for me." She said and sat up against the headboard and pointed down the bed at me. I looked down to see the batteries had been recharged.

"Like I said. Very, very sexy." I climbed onto the bed between her open and inviting legs, slipped my hand under her neck and locked her into a long, water-tight embrace.

Reluctantly, I came up for air and rested the tip of my nose on hers.

"Would you like your mousse?" I asked, reaching across the bed and searching with my fingers before they closed around the glass.

"Umm." She groaned, still basking in her own achievement. I handed her the glass and she immediately dipped the spoon into the middle, so it was half light and half dark. She slipped the spoon between her lips and her eyes immediately widened. "Umm. God, that's delicious." She moaned and dived for a second spoonful.

I sat and watched her eat for a moment, then reached across and retrieved my own dessert, dipping the spoon into the dark chocolate. With her attention fixed totally on her own, I smeared the teaspoon over her nipple, the cold spoon causing her to flinch slightly. I smiled wickedly and bent down and slowly sucked it clean. She was looking at me with one eyebrow slightly raised.

"I can come in here for lunch whenever I want." I said. The hotel's several restaurants were favourites for client lunches. "But for one night only, I get to use you as my plate."

I smeared a second spoonful over her other nipple, then slowly licked it clean, lapping at it repeatedly, like the cat who got the cream.

Tracing a line of chocolate from the back of my spoon, I followed with my tongue as I worked painstakingly down over her stomach and navel to the top of her pubic hair.

I noticed Avril had succumbed to her fate and had closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of my wandering tongue and lips, and I took the opportunity to manoeuvre myself between her legs.

I rubbed the back of the spoon across her wet and swollen lips and heard her groan in appreciation. I licked the spoon clean and dipped it into my glass. Spreading the lips of her pussy with my spare hand, I flicked her smooth skin with my tongue, before replacing it with the spoon, coating her lips with the smooth chocolate.

Slowly, I slipped a finger inside her, then teasingly licked the chocolate from her lips with short jabs of my tongue. I felt her begin to wriggle beneath me as I cleaned every inch of her labia before stopping and leaving her to squirm in anticipation before repeating the process, this time finishing by dipping my tongue into her hot pussy.

Unfortunately, my dessert was almost spent and I rolled her gently over onto her stomach. Straddling her hips, I kissed slowly down her back, covering each vertebrae in turn, down the curve of her spine to the base of her back.

I lifted her hips off the bed and she shuffled her knees under her until she knelt on all-fours. She wiggled her buttocks at me provocatively, probably expecting me to push my rigid cock into her, but my mousse was not yet finished.

With the final spoonful in my left hand, I pushed the thumb of my right against her wet pussy, feeling it yield immediately and slip inside her as she pushed back to deepen the penetration.

Her legs were spread wide and her buttocks likewise, affording me a tantalising glimpse of her puckered hole. As I pushed my thumb further into her pussy, I smeared the teaspoon down the crack of her bum and over her star. She flinched away from the contact, but only slightly, so the spoon simply hovered as close as it could without contact.

I licked the spoon clean and discarded it, before kneeling on the end of the bed and slipping my thumb back into her dripping pussy.

I slowly licked down the crack of her bum and she flinched again, but this time pulled away from me. I shifted slightly back up the bed towards her and this time ran my tongue over the smear of white chocolate that covered her tight star.

"No," she gasped. "You can't." But this time she did not pull away and as I worked my thumb inside her pussy, she continued to push back towards my hand. I circled my tongue around her arse, cleaning up the chocolate until her most private area shone with my saliva. She groaned each time I licked her and with each new pass of my tongue, I applied a little more pressure, until I could feel the tip squeeze inside her.

Deep guttural moans escaped her throat as I licked her and I could feel her pussy flood as her arousal intensified.

"Oh God." She muttered. "You're gonna make me cum again." She groaned and in response, I pushed my tongue deeper inside her. Suddenly, she pushed her hips back with increased vigour and her pussy closed in around my thumb. I continued to lick all around her puckered star in circles, dipping my tongue inside her, each time feeling her squirm and push back towards me.

She was panting rhythmically, intermingled every now and then with a long groan, which I now knew was a sign of her approaching orgasm. It was time to tip her over the edge and I withdrew my thumb and replaced it with my swollen cock. With the slightest pressure, her tight pussy swallowed me and as I pushed fully into her, I rubbed my thumb across her star, before easing it in to the first knuckle.

Avril cried out loud, louder than anything else I had coaxed from her so far and she came. Her shuddering orgasm sending her body into a seemingly uncontrollable spasm. I continued to circle my thumb inside her and simply held my rigid cock as deep as I could, until her bucking subsided and her trembling knees collapsed on the bed with me on top of her.

She wriggled underneath me and somehow managed to turn over until we were face to face. Her cheeks were rosy red and her eyes glazed. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me closer to her.




Love. Lust. Lost. Ch. 03



"Take me." She purred. I needed no second invitation and I felt my tip nuzzle against her slick and swollen lips. I gently applied more pressure and felt her heat as I disappeared back inside her.

She gasped and closed her lips over mine, her tongue snaking into my mouth. I sucked on it greedily and she responded by biting my lip, drawing a deep moan from me.

Savouring every last moment I had with her, I made love to her in long, slow strokes, revelling in every single moan and grunt that spilled from her pouting lips. I lost count of the number of times I kissed them and each time I did, her eyes locked into mine.

The sudden influx of sex into my life after such a long abstinence had given me a control I never knew I possessed and as we writhed together on the bed, we were totally as one.

Avril pushed me as she had done the previous evening and I responded by rolling over, taking her petite frame with me, until she was perched on top. I held her hands, our fingers intertwined as she sat upright, grinding her hips down onto my shaft.

Her entire body shuddered as another orgasm flowed through her. We were both coated in perspiration and it dripped off her forehead and hair and landed on my stomach as she rode me.

"I love you." I said and somehow it sounded right. Avril smiled, stayed silent and bent over me and kissed me. I tasted her once more. It was heaven. Then she sat back upright and our hands intertwined again. I held them tightly and stared up into her piercing eyes and she responded by bouncing even more enthusiastically on my cock, now so stiff it was sore.

I sat up with her and wrapped my arms around her waist, and she responded by draping her arms over my shoulders. We kissed, her chest crushed against mine, and finally I felt my orgasm creep up on me. I pulled her hips frantically towards me and we grunted in unison as I filled her slender body.

"Shit." I muttered and she closed her mouth over mine as I came, my body immediately draining of every last ounce of strength.

Avril collapsed on the bed on top of me and giggled. "Wow, I thought you were going to keep going until dawn." I giggled back, the sexual tension and unbridled lust that had gripped us both finally dissipating.

"Wow. So did I." I replied and she laughed more heartily until I could feel her chest heaving against mine.

I wrapped her up in my arms and held her tightly. I was still inside her and simply couldn't let the moment end. I must have drifted off to sleep, her scent in my head, her sweat on my skin.

...

I woke up and it was light and therefore late. At some point, she had rolled off me. She was actually lying propped up on her elbow watching me.

"Good morning sleepy." She said as I stirred and opened my eyes. I grinned back at her and croaked a reply. "You're going to be late for work." She said and I focussed my eyes on the television clock. It was almost eight. I rolled towards her.

"Welcome back to reality." I said, still amazed at how completely natural it all seemed. But this really was it, it was time to go, otherwise I actually would lose my job. I guessed she wasn't about to ask me to come to Sheffield with her, so I simply rolled towards her and kissed her on the lips, pausing to savour her taste and smell, before rolling away and hunting down my clothes.

...

With an unmistakeable sense of deja-vu, I stood in the corridor on the threshold of her room and gazed one last time into her amazing eyes, her body wrapped in a hotel robe.

"Well Miss Lavigne" I said in my finest Queen's English. "It really has been a ball, but now I must fly." She giggled and I just could not resist her. I stepped forward and kissed her beautiful lips one final time before pulling away and placing the very last one on the end of her nose.

"You're an incredible person, Philip Jenkins." She said. "Find yourself a lucky girl and make something special." I grinned at her, but tears were beginning to prickle my eyes. I wrapped her up in my arms and squeezed her tight. 

"And you're one tremendous lady." I croaked. She was becoming a bit of a blur and I quickly swiped the rogue tear from each eye. "Set the world on fire." I whispered and stepped away from her embrace. There was a single tear running down her cheek and my heart shattered into a billion splinters.

"I will." She said and she touched my hand for the last time. "I won't forget you."

I turned away and took several purposeful strides down the corridor and heard the door click shut behind me. This was no fairytale. Tears flowed unabated down my face.

- THE END -

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