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The Woman

By: fuckbunny21



The day had been a hard one. One of many that had been plaguing him lately. Usually he didn't let his friends get a hold of him, but tonight it was all he could not to jump at the chance to get out of his empty place. 

"What the fuck, man..." Brian asked him. "What's been going on with you? You never come out anymore."

"I just don't have a reason." Joe replied. "I mean it's not like I really have anything really going on, so why bother."

"Dude, it's been months. You need to let her go and just find a good fuck and get all this bullshit over with." With that Joe just tuned out the boy's for most of the night. He drank and replied when needed in the conversations, but for the most part kept to himself.

After a good part of the night was over, Joe found himself really getting into the fun and beginning to calm down. Nice and buzzed, he listened to his friends talk more and more about a woman watching him from across the bar. 

"Just go fucking talk to her," Drew told him, "maybe this just what you need." After more than likely too long thinking it through, Joe finally walked over to her. 

From afar this woman had nothing really great about her. Just your "run of the mill" woman, but as Joe got closer to her, he really saw her. She was wearing a short black dress that showed off her legs very well and she had something about her face that made Joe awe as he stared in her lavender eyes. 

"Can I help you?" she almost cooed. It was only then when Joe realized he has been standing there like a dumbass. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stair, but I saw you from over there and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you are." Smooth, he thought to himself. 

"It's cool," her voice was like a drug he was getting hooked to. "What's your name?"

"Joe," it took a lot to keep from stuttering, "What's yours?"

"Are you sure you want to do this...Joe?" he wasn't too sure what she meant by it and truly didn't care. He was so trance by her body and voice that he simply nodded. "Good, that's what I hoped you would say. I'm Victoria." Even her name intoxicated him. As he stood there gawking at her, she got up, took his hand and said, "Come with me." 

He followed without pause, only stopping in his mind to wonder what the guys were going to say later and then decided not to care. She led him outside to the back parking lot and Joe couldn't help but continued to stair. They stopped in the ally.

"Do you want me?" she whispered into his ear. The power she had on him was growing. When he didn't say anything, she took it as a yes and led him further down the alley. When they stopped she began to kiss him. His hands started to move wildly over her body. He suddenly was out of the trance this woman had put him under. He grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. Her eyes were wild with excitement. She reached down with her free hand and rested it on his groin and began to stroke it. He could barely handle the pain of longing. He hadn't had any real contact in months. 

Surprising him she move swiftly and pinned him to the wall and undid his belt. She could feel his cock getting harder as she moved down to her knees. Still watching him, she pulled down his pants just enough to find his swelling member and ran her tongue up the shaft to the end where she put her lips around the tip. He could hardly breathe, as she moved her wet lips up and down his hard cock. He began to make small noises, which just seemed to make her move his dick further down her throat. 

Joe pulled her up in a swift movement once more pinning her to the wall. He slid up her dress, exposing her pussy. While his mouth was nibbling on her neck and top of her breasts, his hand found her clit. As he stroked it she told him to fuck her tight cunt. With his free hand pulled her knee up around his waist and with his other hand griped his penis and slid it into her tight wet pussy. He began to thrust his way into her, deeper with each pump. She began to shake as he pounded her, finding it hard to last much longer. 

"Do you like that?" Joe asked, "Do you like to be fucked?" she almost could speak.

"Oh, god, fuck me...fuck me... fuck me." Was all she could manage to say. He couldn't handle it as she climaxed, but he continued to penetrate her and her pussy tightened and she moaned with utter satisfaction. 

"Cum on me." She told him. He pulled out his dick and rapped his hand around it, as she got down once again on her knees. With a grunt, he came on her face like she asked...

+++

"Where the fuck have you been?" Brian asked 

"Just taking you advice," was all Joe said. He never did see Victoria, but always remembered her eyes.

The Woman



1

It was night time the first time I met her, although you wouldn't have been able to tell it from the harsh fluorescent overhead lights at the grocery store where I was wasting my life. I'd never seen her in the store before, but once I had, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was tall. Taller than me, with silky smooth straight red hair that ran down midway to her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark green, like two emeralds surrounded by a field of fire. They were framed by sharp black horned rimmed glasses that sat sternly on her noses. Her eyes were so intense. She stared at me as she placed a single bottle of wine and a greeting card on the conveyor belt at the end of the checkout station.

We made eye contact as the cashier, a senior from the local high school, picked up the bottle and ran it across the scanner. It beeped loudly, but it seemed far away. I was lost in a sea of green. The woman raised her eyebrow at me, a slow languid arch behind her sensible glasses and I looked away blushing. The cashier had set the wine down on the other side of the belt, and it was nearly to me. I reached out and grabbed it. It was a fancy white wine, but I didn't recognize it. Wine wasn't exactly my drink of choice. I slid it into one of the smaller paper sacks that were made for hiding liquor bottles, and then slipped that into a larger plastic bag. I looked up in time to grab the greeting card. It was one of the more expensive kinds, made from parchment and wrapped in its own separate plastic capsule. It said something about a wedding, but I didn't read the whole thing as I tucked it and the envelope into a smaller plastic bag, and put the whole thing into the larger bag with the wine. There's a subtle art to bagging groceries.

My task done, I looked up, and found that the woman had moved closer. She was down near the end on the lane, leaning down over the credit card machine, no doubt entering her pin number into it. I took the opportunity to check out the rest of her. She was wearing a long black pantsuit that fit her curves nicely. Her blouse underneath the matching suit top was dark sea foam green that didn't quite match her eyes, but played off them in a sympathetic rhythm. She wore high heels; not inordinately high, but high enough to get the point across that she was an important woman with important places to go. More than twice my age, she was beautiful in a commanding sort of way. I briefly imagined that she must run her own business, signing checks and telling people where to go and what to do all day.

She used the little pen attached to the credit card machine to sign her name after a few small beeps told her she should, as I continued to check her out. She had some makeup on. Not much, but enough in soft and muted tones to show that she was particular about her appearance. The cashier, a senior at the local high school named Katie, handed her her receipt and she turned in my direction. I tried to look away but I wasn't quick enough to avoid getting caught.

I blushed again as she took a step toward me and started to hold out her hand. The skin of her hands was pale and smooth and where she had gone with simple makeup for her face, her long and perfectly manicured nails were painted a deep, confident red. Trying not to look directly at her I held the plastic bag out to her. It crinkled out my embarrassment as it hung there limply between us for a moment. She made no move to take it. After a moment, I forced myself around my embarrassment and looked at her again. Her eyes were cold, like a shark, but there was the beginning of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I was under the impression that this store had carryout service...Ben." She said, leaning a little closer and peering at my name tag. Which listed my name and title as "BEN, CARRYOUT". Carryout service was one of the extra services that Muffin's Market offered to its customers to help keep its big box competitors at bay. As she leaned forward she reached up and tapped the hard plastic of my name tag with one of her smooth fingernails. It made a little clicking sound as it tugged against the maroon fabric of the apron all store employees had to wear.

"Oh." I responded intelligently. "Sure, absolutely." I tried to recover, taking a graceless step to the side and allowing her to step in front of me, to take me to her vehicle. He shoes made their own tiny clicking noise as she swayed gracefully past me, giving me an excellent view of her posterior as she passed. It was tight and round in her tight black suit pants.

I followed her out, feeling ridiculous with one small bag of groceries. She led me through the long automatic doors, which hissed as they opened, letting the humid summer night air was unpleasantly over me. The parking lot was mostly empty. It was after eight, which meant the evening rush was mostly over, and Muffin's didn't have many customers these days anyway. She led me to a large black SUV which was parked near the front entrance. Its windows were tinted dark and the parking lot lights shined brightly off the jet black paint and bright chrome bumpers.

There was a small beeping noise as she used her key fob to open the SUV's cargo hatch. It opened on its own with a slow pressurized sigh, revealing crisp new leather interior and an overwhelming breath of new car smell.

"Just anywhere?" I asked stepping in toward the hatch.

"Yeah, any where's fine." She said her voice chilly in the humid evening air. I stepped in past her and sat the bag in as close to the side of the hatch as I could. The back was empty so there was nothing to pin it against to keep it from rolling around, but there was nothing I could do about that. Instead I quickly tied the bag closed and stepped back, hoping to avoid staring at her again. At this point you probably think I'm some kind of lecher who always stared at the woman who came to the store. But that's not true. Well, maybe it is. I was a horny 20 year old, but this was different. There was something about her that drew my eyes. She looked so...powerful?

Maybe.

"Have a good night, Ma'am." I said trying to get out quickly, embarrassed with myself. But as I turned to go she spoke again.

"Do you leer at every woman who comes through the checkout line or is it something about me?"

I felt my face flush bright red and hot as I averted my gaze to my feet. She had caught me looking and it had made her angry. Of course it had. She was a rich, successful, beautiful woman headed to some fully catered wedding party and I was some stupid college non-attendee who would be spending the evening smoking a bag of weed that I would be buying later from Julio in the deli. I was so embarrassed, I wished I was dead.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am." I said shuffling my feet and staring into my converse high tops, "I didn't mean to stare like that."

"I don't want your apology." Her voice was cold and her footsteps were loud on the parking lot asphalt as she stepped in a little closer to me. A faint breeze picked up then and I could smell her perfume on it. It wasn't light and flowery, like the perfume the girls in the store wore. It was deeper, and darker. It made me think of a meadow right before a thunderstorm.

"I wanted to know if you stare at every woman." She said, taking another step closer. She reached out with her smooth hand and placed fingertip under my chin, raising my face to her.

"Or is it just something about me?" She wiggled her finger a bit, dragging her fingernail through my unkempt stubble. I took an involuntary step away and looked up at her surprised. Her eyes were still cold and deadly, but the smirk was back on her face. She arched her eyebrow at me.

"Ummm." I quipped, taking a stumbling step away. "It's just you. I didn't mean-"

"What is it about me that makes a young carryout stare so intently?" She said, maintaining her shark's gaze for another moment, then turning to her SUV closing the hatch, "I'm old enough to be your mother, you know."

"I don't know." I said, "You look so...I don't know. Professional?"

She laughed at that, a thick, world weary 'HA!' that broke my tension a little.

"Professional. How romantic." She transferred her keys to her other hand, then took a step closer to me. I could smell her perfume again, and I was drawn into the deep well of her eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that." I said, feeling my face flush ever redder. I wasn't sure how much a person actually could blush, but surely I was near my limit.

"I meant like...You'd know what you're doing and exactly what you want and stuff. I don't know. I was just checking out a beautiful lady. Don't put me on the spot."

She laughed again, and took another step toward me, leaning down, she got close to my ear, and I saw a generous expanse of her cleavage, at the top of her blouse. Had it been unbuttoned that far in the store? I didn't think it had.

"I'll tell you a secret." She whispered, her hot breath swirling around my ear, sending a tingling sensation through my whole body. "You should be more careful who you stare at. Because I do know exactly what I want." She leaned back up, and I saw that her blouse was definitely open another button. She stepped away, crossing around behind her SUV, and getting in on the Driver's side. I stood there dumfounded as she carefully backed her car out of its parking space. I caught a brief flash of green eyes in her rearview mirror as she pulled the SUV away. I stood that way for several minutes, waiting for the tightening in my pants to go away before I turned around and headed back into the store.

2

I had another four hours in my shift, but the rest of the night is kind of a blur in my memory. I know that when I finally got control of myself enough to sneak past the cashiers without showing off my trouser tent, I spent several minutes hiding out behind the dairy case. It's hard to be turned on when you are cold, and that place seemed to do the trick, but not entirely. For the rest of the evening, I found myself thinking back to the incident. Imagining those green, almond shaped eyes, looking down at me, then find myself flushing with embarrassment all over again.

I know that before my shift ended I spent at least an hour walking around the store with a big plastic jug of detergent in my hand, acting like I was looking for where it belonged. I wasn't the best employee to ever grace the fluorescent halls of Muffin's Market. I definitely got my weed from Julio before my shift ended. Julio was a squat Mexican with what I would have guessed was too much body hair to work in the deli, no matter how many hairnets you slapped on him. We had a very intricate system designed to hide the fact that Julio was dealing drugs to most of the staff at Muffin's. The person who wanted weed would go to the deli, and just...ask him for the weed...Which seems pretty stupid to me now. But back then? Foolproof, baby.

When my shift finally ended I ducked out the back of the store, past all the cute little high school girls smoking cigarettes behind the dumpster, not stopping to say anything to anyone and walked up to my truck. It wasn't much of a truck, a red Chevy S-10, which was only red by virtue of being so rusty. I looked at myself in the reflection of the window as I Pulled open the Driver's door with a long, rust squeak. I was and am tall, at around six feet. At the time I had kind of an unkempt mop of blonde hair, which sometimes flopped down and hid my blue eyes. I wasn't skinny, but I wasn't fat either. I probably would have been if I'd made more money, but between weed, Netflix and rent, there wasn't usually a lot left over for junk food. I'm not particularly muscular, but I am pretty solid, as evidenced by the rusty squeak of the truck as I leaned in ant sat behind the Driver's seat. Fortune favored me as I tossed my weed in the glove box, and the truck decided that tonight it would start.

It was about 10:30 when I pulled into my apartment complex and parked my rust bucket truck in my designated parking spot at the Woodfield Apartment Complex. The building I lived in was brown and tan stone with roughhewn wooden accents that clashed in unexpected ways. It was exactly a dive, but it was...kind of a dive. I was on the ground floor, with a tiny exterior patio that had a great view of my parking space, and the rest of the parking lot. There was one cheap plastic chair out there, but no BBQ or anything like that. I wasn't spending a lot of time outside back then.

I walked up the corridor with a flickering light and turned my key in the tarnished brass colored doorknob under the peeling 1B sticker, and let myself inside. The apartment was one of those "one Bedroom" Numbers with a Kitchenette, a hallway, a bedroom and a bathroom. The carpet was a thick brown shag, and the walls where a fairly clean white. The apartment was a mess. This wasn't unordinary for those days. There was a stack of dirty dishes in the sink, and there were several not so fresh shirts and pants littered around the living room floor. I took the tightly wrapped little baggie of weed out of my work apron pocket and tossed it onto the scuffed coffee table in the center of the room. It landed next to the hollowed out dictionary that I kept all of my other pot supplies in, then quickly peeled myself out my apron, and added it to the accumulated pile on the floor.

I turned on the television, and opened up Netflix while I ground up some of the new weed I had picked up. Julio had informed me that it was supposed to be pretty good stuff, apparently from a new dealer, and I was anxious to try it. Weighing my options, I decided to pack a quick bowl, instead of rolling a joint, and as I did, I flicked through the various shows in my Netflix queue. I settled on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, which, side note, is excellent to watch high. Kicking my shoes off and lighting up the bowl, I settled in to watch Captain Sisko and the crew get turned into Klingons for some reason. It was a good episode. It helped me forget all about my embarrassment earlier, but it didn't help me get the woman out of my mind.

I kept losing track of the show, mind drifting off to the thought of her cold green eyes, or her silky smooth red hair. I wondered what her legs looked like, under the pant suit. I thought about what it would be like to see them slowly fall down her long legs, into a pile on my floor. Then I saw all the other clothes already piled up there and the fantasy was broken beyond repair. I couldn't even imagine such a classy beautiful woman in my crappy little apartment.

I had finished my first bowl, and episode of DS9, and was starting to seriously consider what food I might have in my sickly yellow refrigerator when there was a knock at the door. My heart jumped into my throat as it usually did when there was a knock on my door. I had no idea who would be knocking so late. It wasn't like I had any friends who might want to pop by, as I was kind of a loner, and it...shouldn't be my dad. He wasn't really the 'pop by" kind of person. A flood of relief passed into me, as I realized who it must be. Mister Dinklage, my upstairs neighbor was a busybody type. A short, lonely man with more grey hair on his knuckles than on his head lived alone upstairs with his cats. He was always complaining about something or other I had done. My television was too loud. I came and went at odd hours. He could smell pot coming from my apartment. I wasn't too worried about the pot, though, since everyone called our building the Weedfield Apartments. The Super was generally pretty cool, but I wasn't really looking forward to a lecture from an old man about my television's volume tonight.

"Just a sec!' I called, as I shuffled my pipe and the weed I had ground up earlier into the hollow book. I stood up and grabbed a can of pine scented air freshener and sprayed the room liberally as I walked over to my patio window and peeked outside through the mini blinds. I wouldn't be able to see who was at the door, but I would be able to see if my Dad's car was parked out there or something. I didn't see his car, or anything unusual, except a large black SUV parked in Mr. Dinklage's spot. He didn't have a car of his own, but he watched his spot like a hawk to ensure no one parked in it. If it ever happened he'd run downstairs and leave a note under their windshield wiper.

"He probably thinks whoever that is, is here to visit me, and he wants them to move out of his space." I realized, as I let the blind's fall closed. I gave the air another quick puff of pine scent just to be safe, before crossing the floor to the door, and pulling the chain to open it up. But it wasn't short, fat, lonely Mr. Dinkladge.

It was her.

3

I didn't recognize her at first.

No, that's not right. I recognized her. I hadn't forgotten about those green eyes or that long red hair all night, but I couldn't place her. She didn't belong in my doorway, in the dark hallway with the flickering light. She belonged in a well-lit boardroom, with charts and graphs and some sort of long pointer stick that she could smack on the table when her employees didn't get the first quarter profits high enough. But she was still there, somehow, wrapped in a long black coat with lots of buttons, over the dark black pantsuit she'd been wearing earlier, a bottle poking out of a thin paper bag poked up out of the crook of one arm.

"Can I...help you?" I managed, after staring at her standing in my hallway for way too long.

"You can invite me in." She said, nonchalantly. "Or didn't you get enough of staring at me in the grocery store parking lot?"

My heart leapt at the idea (and my pot addled brain didn't out up a fight), as I stepped aside and allowed this tall, fiery haired goddess into my apartment. She walked past me without another look, heels clicking on the linoleum rectangle just inside the door, as she glanced appraisingly around the apartment, then shrugged elegantly out of the long black overcoat. She looked around for a moment, as though for a coat hook that I didn't have, then tossed to overcoat, and the suit jacket, which she'd taken off with the over coat, to me.

"Put that somewhere, won't you?" she said, stepping into the apartment and looking around. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the dirty dishes and the dirty clothes on the floor, as I silently kicked myself. I had already hurried past her, and draped her coat over the back of my kitchenette chair, before I realized that none of this made any sense. Why was she here? How was she here? Where was here? What year was this? My god she was beautiful.

I turned back to her, wanting to express all of those thoughts to her, but all that came out was, "How...How did you find me?"

Of course I regretted it the moment I said it. It sounded like I was some sort of mole in a James Bond movie. I'd just been uncovered by the sexy CIA operative, who was there to kill me so I could never talk. Wait...was that what was about to happen? I felt my eyes widen as I looked at her. She smiled her cold, predatory smile.

"You don't know who I am do you?"

I shook my head, which caused her smile to widen, showing white teeth. She regarded me curiously for a moment, then held the brown paper wrapped bottle out to me, jiggling it.

"Here, pour me some of this in a clean glass. You do have clean glasses, don't you?" She said, arching an eyebrow at the pile of dishes in my sink.

"Yeah, I do." I said, taking the bottle, and scurrying off into the kitchenette. I did have clean glasses, but none were wine glasses, I also didn't have a corkscrew. I slid the wine, the same bottle she had bought at the store out of the bag and stood looking at the cork for a moment. I heard the low voices of Captain Sisko and company go silent, and realized she had shut of Star Trek. God, why was I sitting alone in a dirty house watching Star Trek tonight? I beat myself up as I pondered the wine bottle.




The Woman



"Didn't your mother teach you to clean your room?" she called, as I opened up all my drawers as quietly as I could, looking for something that could substitute for a corkscrew.

"No. She didn't." I said, finding a small rubber wrapped wall hook in the bottom of one of my junk drawers. It was the kind that has the screw tip on the bottom that you can hang heavy duty tools on. I shrugged to myself and picked it up adding a "Sorry" over my shoulder about the state of my apartment. I didn't add that the reason my Mother hadn't taught me to clean was because she'd died not long after giving birth to me. It didn't seem like the sort of thing you say to a beautiful woman who has somehow invited herself into your house.

"Don't be sorry." She called back. "What's the status on that wine?"

"Umm, Just a sec." I said, hurriedly screwing the hanger into the cork. When it was in as far as it would go, I gave it a tug, and the cork slid free with a hollow pop. I tossed the hanger, cork and all, into the sink, and then opened my cabinet for a glass. My collection of drinking glasses wasn't particularly fine. It was mostly made up refillable plastic cups from a local sandwich shop that had been across the street from the grocery store for a while. But I did have a few glass glasses, somewhere in there. I rummaged around until I found one of the small highball glasses that I had bought when I first moved out of my dad's house. I had thought that I would be having sexy parties at my new place all the time when I bought it. I hadn't used the set a single time since I'd purchased it, or held a single sexy party.

"Maybe this will be your first one?" My brain whispered to me as I poured the soft white wine into the glass. Her green eyes flashed through my mind, as I poured. I briefly imagined how they would look staring up at me from my bed. Then I remembered the disgusting state of my bedroom, and dismissed the idea.

Why was she here though? Did she follow me home, or something? These questions, along with a sonnet I was trying to compose to her beauty in the back of my head all rattled around in my brain as I came back around the corner, holding the glass of wine out in front of me. I stumbled a bit when I saw her. She had made herself right at home on my couch. Her shoes were off, revealing a pair of long and slender black silk stocking clad feet, underneath her black pants. Her sea foam shirt seemed to be open another button, and I could just see the edge of a black lace bra peeking out from inside, shaping her large breasts nicely. Her red hair spilled messily onto the light blue of the sofa.

She reached out to take the glass from me. I could see her long sexy fingernails, still painted a deep red. I imagined how the might feel, sliding slowly over my back. The thought sent a shiver through my spine as I passed the glass to her. She held it up to the light, as though trying to decide if she was amused or not, then took a long sip. She sighed as she pulled the cup away from her mouth, leaving a deep red print on the rim. Was she wearing lipstick before? I didn't think so, but she certainly was now. It was a Dark red that matched her fingernails.

"Have a seat." She said, gesturing toward the opposite end of the couch with the highball glass, "I won't bite."

I moved around the edge of the couch and she followed me with her cold green eyes as I moved one of the blue cushions aside and sat down next to her. Her long legs stretched nearly the length of the couch. She wiggled her toes through the silk stockings, and I could see that her toenails were also painted a matching red through the thin material.

At the site of her painted toenails wiggling in the silk, I felt myself stiffen beneath my pants. I have always had a bit of a thing for a woman with painted toenails, and while I hadn't had much experience with them in my young life, I had always found them very sexy. I realized I was staring at her toes and pulled my eyes away and looked at her face. She was smiling at me again, the cold smile of a lion that has trapped a stupid messy wildebeest on the Serengeti. There were teeth in that smile, and I suddenly felt a little scared.

"How do you..." I started, but then faltered as she began wiggling her toes again. She slid her leg a little closer to me, the couch catching her pant leg and pulling it up, exposing the thin, smooth fabric of her sock. It ran up over her calf. Her foot touched my leg, and I felt her toes wiggling against me. I stiffened ever so slightly at her touch.

"How did I know where you lived?" She asked, pausing to take another long sip of wine.

"You really don't know who I am. I thought you were just a little star struck at the grocery store, but you really don't have any idea, do you?"

I shook my head.

"Good." She said, sliding her foot up into my lap. She wasn't resting against my crotch, but her foot was definitely penis adjacent.

"Be a good boy and rub my feet for me. It's been a long day." She said wiggling her toes at me.

I stared up at her wide eyed. I could feel my member coming fully erect inside my jeans at the thought of touching her smooth silk stockings. I moved to grab her foot, and then hesitated, my hands poised right over her wiggling toes. What was I doing? Who was this woman, and why was she in my house? I looked up at her. She moved her foot up into my waiting hands, roughly.

"Go on then."

I started massaging her foot. It felt wonderful in my hands; Smooth and silky and warm. She moaned aloud as I ran my thumb up the inside of her arch and back down again. Her foot smelled faintly sweet, and the scent of her mixed with her perfume in the air. I lost myself in the smell of her as I worked my way down to her heel, then back up to the top, rubbing each individual toe.

"But why? How are you here?" I asked, my head somewhat befuddled from a combination of lack of blood, weed, and the delicious smells wafting off the beautiful woman with her foot in my lap. She smiled and pulled her foot away, quickly moving the other one to take its place. I massaged it with a will, all the while being careful to avoid letting her brush against the stiff length in my pants. Something...magical was happening to me tonight. I didn't understand it, but I wasn't going to let her finding out I was hiding a boner ruin it.

"The why is because that wedding shower was dreadfully boring. The how is because your manager gave me your address pretty quickly when I came back by the store and asked. Apparently he recognized me." She said, moaning slightly as I hit a sore spot on her foot.

"But he can't do that, can he?"

"He did. I know, there outta be a law, right?" She said wiggling her foot a bit in my grasp. "Take my socks off for me?"

My erection grew even more as I grabbed the tip of her silk sock and began to pull it off of her foot. I did it slowly, savoring the smooth motion on the fabric as it came off of her foot. I was left holding her foot, bare in my hand as I tossed the sock onto the coffee table, near my hollowed out dictionary. Her skin was smooth and warm in my hands, and her toenails were exactly what I had been picturing through the thin sock. Dark red and smooth. I sat her foot down in my lap and leaned forward to grab her other foot. As I leaned forward, I felt the foot in my lap slide down the length of my erection, through the thick material of my jeans. Electricity shot through my entire body as it happened, causing me to freeze there, mid motion. If I had been any less turned on I'd have been embarrassed, but instead I felt my member throb at the touch. I expected her to pull her foot back and slap me. Instead she chuckled, a low and throaty laugh.

"I thought you might have a thing for my feet, but I had no idea." She said, slowly moving the heel of her foot up and down the length of my erection. She spread her toes wide as she did this; the site of it drove me wild. But I was also too scared to move.

I should probably take this opportunity to mention that I was still a virgin at this point. I'm loathe to admit it, but since I've included all the other embarrassing stuff, I might as well include this. I had never had sex before at all. I'd had one real girlfriend, but she'd been ridiculously churchy, and I'd never been able to do so much as touch her boob. And now, with this beautiful older woman, rubbing me slowly up and down, I began to panic.

"Take the other one off." She said her voice low and dangerous. She kept up her movement, slowly sliding her heel up and down my length as I leaned forward and pulled the other sock off. I didn't linger over the sight of the second sock sliding off, because at this point, my entire brain was in my penis. I wouldn't have noticed if the fire alarm had started going off, or if someone had burglarized my house.

"Take it out for me." She said sharply, surprising me out of my stupor. It wasn't a request, and it wasn't an offer. It was an instruction given by a woman who was used to being obeyed. I felt my hands quickly move to my belt, undoing the clasp, and pulling down my zipper. I struggled for a moment, trying to pull myself out of my boxer-briefs in a sitting position, but finally I sprung free, waving back and forth in the apartment air. I'm a normal guy. I don't have a porn star dick, but I do all right for myself. I'm about 5' 1/2'", maybe six, but at the time I had no idea how it measured up to the wider world, especially to a woman like this, who could have any penis she wanted.

"Not bad." She said huskily, bringing up one of her feet and spreading her first two toes on either side of me. She began to stroke me up and down.

"Oh god." I sighed as electricity shot through me. I could feel the sensation everywhere, my balls, my nipples, and the top of my head. It was the best feeling I had ever felt to that point in my life. She gently stroked me with the toes of one foot, and then moved her other foot behind my erection, pulling it gently toward her with the smooth top of her foot. Back and forth, back and forth until every sensation in my body seemed to be in my penis. I looked up at her, smiling predatorily at me, as she stroked me.

"Who are you?" I murmured, leaning my head back against the couch cushion as she gently teased me.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" She asked, increasing the pressure of the stroking motion, causing me to buck my hips up a bit to meet her. I was totally lost in her control then, unable to do anything but try not to come all over myself. I could feel the pre-come boiling up from deep in my balls, leaking out of me, and making her feet slide gently up and down my length. I moaned at the new sensation.

"I'm the woman that's going to change your life."

4

She kept up her work for a few more minutes, bringing me right to the edge, so close that I knew one more motion would have me emptying my load all over her perfectly manicured toenails, then slowing down, a little, just enough to kept my body in a constant state of ecstasy and tension. When she had had enough she pulled her feet away. I was bewildered as she moved her legs off of the sofa and stood up. Was she leaving?

"Please god don't leave." I though furiously, as she stood up and looked around, but she didn't make any move toward the door. Instead, she brought her hands in to her waist. I couldn't see what she was doing entirely, because her back was too me, but it became apparent soon enough, as her black dress pants slowly peeled down. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her bottom as her pants fell exposing a sheer set of black panties that clearly showed off her perfect smooth ass. She turned back to face me, her green shirt now hanging down to her hips like a too short dress and slowly stepped out of her pants. She didn't stop there, though. She hooked her beautifully painted thumbnail under the waist of her panties, near a small black bow right in their center and began to work them slowly down. I looked briefly up at her face, unsure of how to express my surprise or utter gratitude about what I thought was going to transpire.

She leaned forward, as she pulled the panties down around her knees, showing me the tops of her pale white breasts, encircled by her lacey bra, for just a moment, then in one fluid movement she leaned back up, stepping all the way out of them. I could see her naked sex then, a bright red patch of expertly trimmed red hair atop it. Her lips themselves were smooth and glistening. Was she already wet down there? Was she as turned on as I was? That was hard to imagine, as I currently didn't have a single thought left in my head, but I was hopeful that she was enjoying herself too.

I stood up, hoping to show her to the bedroom, but as I reached for her hand she stopped me firmly.

"Come on. The bedroom's this way."

"No." She said, drawing her hand away from me, and sitting back down on the couch. "You haven't earned that. Not even close. I mean, the state of this apartment alone is just...She looked around, sighing.

She kept her cold green eyes on mine as she spoke, but I could also see her slowly rubbing her body with her hands while she spoke. She ran them over her breasts for a moment, then down her stomach, finally stopping on the red mound just above her smooth vagina. She rubbed there in a slow circle for a moment, as I tried to divide my attention between her hand and her dark, sexy eyes.

"Well..." I said slowly, stupidly through a bloodless brain. "How would I go about earning that?"

"Well." She said considering, biting her lower lip, in an expression that made my erection throb ridiculously in the overhead light.

"Why don't you start by getting on your knees, like a good little boy?"

"Ok." I said, reaching to tuck myself back in my underwear. I don't know why I thought that would be a good idea, but the thought of just hanging in the wind seemed a little ridiculous. She stopped me though.

"I didn't tell you to put that away." She said, sharply. Her tone brooked no argument. I took my hand away, looking at her questioningly.

"I thought I told you to get on your knees?" Her eyes had gone cold again, and the predatory smirk that had played around her mouth for most of the evening was gone. I felt myself dropping to my knees. It was a good thing there carpet below was thick, because I might have been seriously hurt otherwise.

"That's a good boy." She said, letting her hand dip a bit, so that she was caressing smooth circles over her mound. "Now. Slowly. Crawl over here."

I hesitated, but only for a second as the site of her rubbing her hand over her smooth, delicate lips, spreading her wetness over them intoxicated me more than the scent of her perfume had done earlier. Carefully, I began to crawl forward. She was only a couple of feet away, but I moved as slowly as possible, almost afraid to cross the distance. I didn't want to do anything wrong that might jeopardize what was happening. I came slowly forward, feeling the ache in my engorged penis as it swung beneath me.

As I came, she picked up her wine with her free hand and took a long drink, draining the glass. With a sigh, she put it back on the coffee table accidently bumping my hollow book. There was a very un-book-like sound as the contents inside began to roll around. I was close enough to smell her then, as I inched little by little toward her smooth mound. Not the sweet, deep smell of her perfume, but a musky, powerful smell, that brought its own sort of intoxication. I was eye level with her sex. I could see drops of glistening wetness sliding free of her smooth pink lips, as she used her fingers to spread open her inner folds. I inched closer, I could almost-

"What's in here?" She asked as she withdrew her hand from her vagina. I felt her long fingers entwine in my hair as she placed it on my head, stopping me just short of her smooth wetness. I felt myself begin to shake uncontrollably as it hovered there in front of me, just slightly out of reach. My penis throbbed in anticipation but she held me firm, turning my head gently to look at the hollowed out dictionary on my table.

I didn't recognize it immediately, though. I was so caught up in the moment that I had to stare at it blankly for a few long seconds before I realized what I was looking at. It was the box where I kept my weed.

"Oh, that's nothing." I mumbled, trying to turn my head back to her vagina, but she held me firm.

"Stay there." She said, giving me a firm but gentle rap on the back of my head as she released me. She leaned forward and picked up the box, moving her folds a few scant inches in front of my nose. I felt my mouth begin to water as she held it there, tantalizing; teasing me. I'd never gone down on a woman before, but having read about it in numerous magazines and online stories, it was one of my fondest desires. I could feel the heat radiating off of her sex as she held it there, going through the hollowed out book. I sighed with relief and regret as she settled back into her place on the couch.

"This," she said, dangling the small sandwich bag of finely ground pot in front of my face, "is hardly nothing. Don't you know that marijuana is illegal in the State of Missouri?" She asked, bopping me on the nose with it.

I didn't know what to say. Even if I had known what to say, I probably couldn't have said anything at all. I was in such an advanced state of arousal that I was using everything I had not to beg her to let me touch her. Her skin was so smooth and pale, like you'd imagine a model in a Dove Soap commercial's skin would be. And that smell...

"This is very, very naughty." She said, punctuating each 'very' with a light tap on my nose from the bag. "If you were mine, I'd have to punish you for this." She said, bringing the bag up to her nose and smelling its contents.

"I think that I'll let you off with a warning this time, though." She said popping the bag open and reaching inside. She withdrew a pinch of tweed and sprinkled it onto a rolling paper that I hadn't noticed she'd also taken from the box, and began to roll a thin joint. I'd never seen the process done without a roller before, but I found the contrast of her pale skin, red nails, and brown rolling paper to be extremely sexy. I was drawn in even more as she licked the joint closed.

She studied me closely for a moment, rolling the joint back and forth between her fingers. After a moment she put it between her lips and lit it with one of the cheap plastic Bic lighters that had been in the hollow book. She inhaled once, long and deep, holding it in her lungs while she stared at me, then blew a thick grey cloud of acrid, piney smoke into my face. I breathed in reflexively as the fog surrounded my head.

"Do you think I have a pretty pussy? Is it what you imagined when you couldn't take your eyes off me at the store?" She asked raising her had with the joint up the arm rest. She held it there next to her bright red hair, looking for all the world like a model in a 60's cigarette add. She reached back down between her legs with her free hand and spread her lips again, idly running her long red nail up and down her slit, making a quick deep circle of her clit every few passes.

"It's so pretty." I said, so turned on that I found myself saying the first thing that popped into my head. "It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen." St that she dipped her middle finger deep inside her folds, moaning a little with the motion. She slowly pulled the finger in and out of herself a few times as I watched from my position, still on my hands and knees between her spread legs.

"Would you like to taste me?" She asked, pushing her finger in deeper, withdrawing it, sliding in two fingers this time.

I nodded weekly as my dick pulsated below me.

"I would do anything to taste you." I said, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.




The Woman



"That's a good boy." She said, leaning forward and running her fingers over the outside of my lips. They were smooth and slick with her heady juices. My whole body began to tingle as I ran my lounge out first, tasting her warm sweetness of my lips, and then hesitantly off of the tips of her fingers. She was sweet and sweet and sweet and musky and dark all at the same time. She tasted the way I you'd imagine ambrosia would have; a Grecian nymph letting you drink small sips from a vase high atop Mount Olympus.

"A very good boy." She said, suddenly withdrawing her hand from my mouth and entwining her long fingers in my hair again. She pulled me forward, not stopping this time, until my mouth was up tight against her warm wetness. Her small patch of bright red hair tickled my nose as she held me in place for a moment. She let out a slight moan as we touched, and I felt my dick begin to tremble.

"Mmmmmm." She said, pushing my face away from her again. My mouth and nose were covered in her warm, sweet juices.

"Have you ever eaten a woman before?" She asked me, pushing back on my head with the hand still entwined deeply in my hair. I shook my head, embarrassed.

"That's ok." She said, letting go of her death grip and slowly stroking my head. "I actually prefer it. That way you don't have to unlearn any bad habits." She stopped stroking me, and wound her fingers back into my hair again. With her free hand she took another puff on the joint, and blew the smoke at me. I felt myself slide into a new level of high as the fog surrounded me, the bowl I had already smoked really beginning to kick in. She pulled me in close again, and the smell of her flooded my nostrils.

"All right, I want you to lick me, slowly all around the outside of my pussy. Can you do that for me?"

I showed her that I could by doing just that. I gently and slowly ran my tough along the curve where her thighs met her pink mound. Over the smooth hills of her labia, up one side and back down another. She gave me gentle encouragement as I went, correcting me when I strayed too far to the side, keeping me on track. All the while I could feel the heat building in her, as she begin to writhe a little under me.

"That's so good." She said, blowing more pot smoke into my face. "Now work your way to the center. I want you to kiss me up and down."

I moved slightly, until I has hovering over the length of her slit. The heat baking off her felt wonderful in my mouth as I planted gentle kisses up and down the smooth, slick line. She sighed in appreciation as I followed my instructions. After a few minutes of that she pulled my head forward a little bit.

"Do you feel that?" She asked, guiding my mouth to her clit. It was stiff and engorged between my lips, and I could feel her shiver as they grazed it. I mumbled that I could feel it.

"I need you to lick slow circles around it" She said, tightening her grip in my hair. I stuck my lounge in the folds around her small, perfectly formed pearl and she moaned as I began to trace slow circles around it.

"Oh, just like that." She said gabbing at my head with her other hand and pulling me tightly against her. I had a vague hope that she had set the joint down, before grabbing me, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that I kept up the circles, increasing my speed as she told me to go faster and faster. Her hands clenched me tighter and she began to buck a little under my face, driving her mound up against me.

"That's it. That's a good boy. Make me cum." She commanded, and I felt her clit tighten, she humped against my mouth as a fresh torrent of juice flooded my mouth. She moaned loudly, and as she did, it became a cry or release. I slowed my licking as the motion of her hips slowed, stopping as she pushed my head away gently. I laid my head against her thigh and looked up at her. She was sprawled back against the couch, hair tasseled, breathing heavily. Her green eyes were closed, and her breasts were steadily going up and down with the motion of her breath. It was hypnotic.

We sat that way for a long moment, her recovering, me looking up adoring in eager anticipation of what I hoped would happen next. Finally her eyes opened. Cold and dark green.

"Are you still down there?" She asked, arching her sexy red eyebrow at me.

"I guess so." I said.

"Why didn't you come up to the couch when I finished?" She said, looking around, and then picking up the joint from the coffee table where she'd placed it. She lit it with the Bic and took a deep puff.

"Ummm. Because you didn't tell me to?" I said, shrugging my shoulders awkwardly because of the angle. It seemed like the right thing to say. I didn't know anything, but this mysterious, sexy woman had pounced on me, and taken control of me. I couldn't have explained why at the time, I probably still couldn't, but I liked the feeling. Being on my knees in front of her, waiting for permission to move, felt so dirty and good.

"That's a good answer." She said, ruffling my hair. She kept me like that for a few long minutes while she smoked the joint down. I never took my eyes off her, and my erection stayed rock hard. I could feel it twitch with frustration every few seconds.

Finally she looked pushed my head off of her leg and scooted back into a sitting position on the couch. I kept my kneeling position, and watched her as she regarded me.

"You can get up now." She said, indicating the couch. I got up slowly, my legs cramped a bit from kneeling in front of her for so long. I noticed my bulging erection and started to try to tuck it into my underwear but she stopped me again.

"I still didn't say to put that away." She said, looking at my penis thoughtfully. It was incredibly intimidating to be examined with her shark's eyes, and if I'd been any less turned on, I probably would have lost it, but I was possibly more turned on than I had ever been in my life and I stood proud under her scrutiny.

Finally, when I couldn't take the suspense anymore, I asked the question that had been burning in my mind the entire time I'd been staring up at her from between her legs.

"So...uh, did I earn anything now?"

She laughed out loud while she looked in my hollow book for somewhere to deposit the roach of the joint. She tossed it in the little ash tray, then turned back to me, thoughtfully, eyebrow raised.

"I don't know." She said, looking me up and down. My pants had fallen to down around my feet by then, making me feel awkward. I wanted to pull them up, but I also knew she would stop me if I tried, so I stood there, exposed while she considered.

"That was pretty good." She finally admitted. "I haven't come that hard in a while. But did it earn you anything..." She tapped the rim of her glasses with her fingernail, making a light clicking noise.

"I guess you've earned the right to come today." She said, scooting her naked butt back on the couch and bringing her feet together sole to sole. The motion spread her sex wide, in a way that made me think of butterflies in flight.

"Are you going to..." I said, hoping she would finish the sentence for me. She did, but not in the way I expected.

"Of course not, silly boy." She said, smiling a toothy, cold grin at me. "You didn't earn anywhere near that. Besides, you've been working at that store all day without a shower."

"Oh." I said, disappointed. "Then how am I going to-"

"The same way I expect you usually do." She said, her predator's grin flashing even brighter. "Only with me here to supervise, you'll do it right for the first time in your life."

I was a little taken aback by the idea. Did she mean what I thought she meant? I couldn't possibly jerk off in front of this beautiful woman, could I? It would be too embarrassing, wouldn't it? But as she spoke the words, "Go ahead and grab your cock" I found myself doing just that. I wrapped my right fist firmly around the shaft and gave a clumsy stroke, feeling it pulse in my hand. I was close. Much closer that I'd realized. This wouldn't take long at all."

"No not like that." She said, leaning forward and taking my hand in hers. I thought briefly that she was going to grab me, and I felt my erection pulsate wildly in anticipation, but instead she drew my fist back until I was only gripping myself with two fingers and a thumb.

"There." She said, smiling and leaning back onto the couch, bringing her feet back together. "That's better. Now I can see to supervise. Go ahead and start stroking yourself, slowly."

I followed her instructions, and began moving my hand, using a lot of pressure and holding the skin tightly. She let me go for a minute and I felt my balls begin to boil. Then she stopped me again.

"No, see that's wrong too." She said, running her lounge over her lips. "I want you to loosen your grip. Let your fingers slide over the shaft. Not too much pressure, that's it. Don't forget the head."

I moaned aloud as I loosed my grip and began to follow her instructions. I ran my fingers over the purple head and felt fresh drops of precome dripping out. It lubricated my fingertips, intensifying the sliding sensation, sending tiny shockwaves through me. I stared into her eyes as I stroked myself for her, lost in the cold green void behind her glasses. I heard a loud, moaning sound from somewhere far away and was surprised a moment later when I realized it was coming from me.

"Does that feel good?" She asked me

"Yes." I hissed, keeping up a steady pace with my hand, as I moved my eyes up and down her body. Her lovely sex was spread wide again, like a butterfly in flight, and when my eyes landed on it, I couldn't rip them away. She pulled her feet in as close to her crotch as she could and the site of her painted toenails so close to her dripping mound nearly sent me over the edge. I moaned even louder.

"Does my pretty pussy make you want to come? "

"Yes." I said again. My voice sounded separate from me somehow, like someone had turned on a television, but it wasn't because I could feel my lips moving.

"Or is it my sexy little toes?" She said, spreading them wide and wiggling them against each other.

"Yes. Oh god yes." I moaned, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Don't you dare come." She said her tone firm and commanding. "Not until I tell you to, do you understand?"

I nodded in affirmation, unable to speak. I squinted my eyes closed against the sensation in my throbbing erection. It was pain and pleasure and pain all rolled up into one, and I knew that my entire body would explode if she didn't release me soon.

"Keep your eyes open." She commanded harshly, and I snapped them open in obeisance. She was smirking at me, but her eyes were fixed intently on my dick.

"I like it when you look at me like that." She said. "The way you looked at me in the store. You need your eyes open to see, don't you."

I grunted; the only noise I was capable of making.

"Don't worry, I won't torture you much longer." She said, tweaking the rim of her glasses a bit. I'm just trying to decide where I should let you finish." She tapped her glasses with her nails thoughtfully.

"You can't come here." She said, running her finger lazily up and down the length of her sex.

"You haven't earned that, have you?" She asked spreading her folds wide, and running her index finger up the length of her slit.

"No." I managed weakly.

"How about my feet?" She asked, face lighting up as though the idea had just occurred to her. "You want to come all over my feet, don't you?"

I think I whimpered a response. I don't like admitting it, but the sweet torture had me at a point that if she didn't end it soon, I would be begging her to let me come. I would have come...in the sink, on the floor, in the bathtub if she'd told me to.

"You want to see your load, dripping all over my toenails, running down between my toes, don't you?

"Please yes!" I cried, feeling my balls throb underneath me. I couldn't hold out any longer I was going to-

"Come for me baby." She hissed in a rapid, commanding voice. "Come all over my sexy little toes."

And I was coming, then, wave after wave rocketed out of me, jumping the distance between us and landing on the smooth white skin of her feet, on my couch cushions, on the carpet. I felt myself spasm with the contractions from deep in my loins, crying out at the height of the sensation. The releases was so overpowering that I nearly blacked out. My knees buckled, and I fell to them, still stroking the last few waves of my orgasm out.

Then it subsided, leaving me an empty shell, devoid of energy, and unable to move. I slumped to the side and laid my head on the couch, resting.

5

"Mmmmmm. Was that good?" She asked. I could feel her running her fingers lovingly through my hair, stroking the back of my head comfortingly. I nodded my head against the couch cushions, my face buried deep in them. I was awash with an odd mixture of shame and thankfulness and I didn't know how to interpret what I was feeling, so I tried not to. I buried my head for a few minutes, until the feeling had lessened a little. After a few minutes she took her hand back.

When I finally looked up, I could see her sitting in the same place she was before. She had rolled another joint, and sat puffing it contentedly. I glanced down at her feet, and saw that they were still covered in the messy white globs of my seed. The site sent a quick jolt through my penis, but it was followed by an echo of guilt. I looked away quickly, back to her face. She smiled as our eyes met, still a shark's smile, but I also thought I could see a bit of tenderness in there too. Maybe it was just my endorphin flooded post orgasmic brain.

She leaned forward and picked up one of her long socks off the table. I watched as she delicately used it to clean my semen off of her feet, out from the valleys between her toes, off of her toenails. She was very thorough. When she was done she tossed it at my chest. It fell into my lap, cold and wet.

"Wash that for me before next time." She said, putting her other sock into the small handbag she had brought with her. "I assume this place has a washing machine?"

She raised her eyebrow at me.

I nodded that I did have a washer and dryer. I didn't tell her that there were in a common coin operated laundry room, though. She stood up and began pulling on her pants. I was sad as the perfect round globes of her butt cheeks disappeared inside of them. Then my brain caught fire with a sudden realization. Next time?

"There's going to be a next time?" I said, voicing my thought aloud. She smiled at me, as she fastened the button on her pants, then reached over to pat my face.

"Of course there's going to be a next time, silly boy. You're mine now. Consequently you can put your penis away now."

I felt my body tingle all over at the words, but she continued to get dressed, as though she hadn't just rocked my entire world. I quickly tucked my dick, slow to return to its natural state, away, while she slid her shoes onto her bare feet, then walked across to my kitchenette and put her coat on.

"How...How do I reach you? Do we exchange phone numbers or something? I asked, unsure of how something like this was supposed to work.

"Don't worry about it." She said, buttoning her thick black overcoat around her, and crossing the apartment door. "I've got YOUR number. I also expect you to clean this filthy place up before the next time I see you. This is completely unacceptable. And get rid of the pot. It's illegal."

I nodded vaguely, feeling embarrassed all over about the state of my house and my life. I stood to follow her, unsure of what to do. This night had been so strange and exciting and I didn't want it to fizzle out. I needed to say something cool to save what was left of my masculinity.

"But I don't even know your name." I said, not sounding cool at all.

She pulled my door open and stepped out into the hall, hesitating briefly. She leaned back in, and patted me gently on the cheek.

"You can call me Mary." She said, letting go of my face. With that she turned and walked down the hall and back to her SUV. Her heels clicking on concrete the whole way.

6

It took a long time for me to come down from the experience, after she had left. My mind was reeling, and it simply wouldn't stop. I was having trouble with the fact that for some reason, I'd just let a stranger who had stalked me and illegally obtained my address, come into my house. Admittedly, she'd been an incredibly forceful and sexy stranger, but still. I didn't know anything about her.

"You know she's beautiful." The tiny voice inside my head told me. It was hard to argue with logic like that.

"You know you liked the way she made you feel." The voice said to me

"What? No I didn't. She was all rough and bossy. It was embarrassing. We didn't even see her boobs!" I though right back.

"Yeah but you liked that." I thought to myself. "Face it. We're a mess. Look at this place. Look at our life. THAT wasn't embarrassing. THIS is embarrassing." I followed my own advice and looked around the house. I was a little piggy wallowing in my own filth. I was rudderless sailboat, too caught up in the freedom of captaining my own ship to realize that I wasn't on the ocean, I was lost in a stagnate pond. The site of the dishes in the sink and the clothes on the floor sickened me.

"She knows what she wants. She knows how to get it. You obviously need someone to tell you what to do."

I sighed, knowing the smug asshole inside my head was right. I sat back down on the couch and turned on the television. I could still smell the heady scent of her sex in the air. I breathed it in thinking about the way she'd felt and tasted.

"Mary." I said aloud,, testing the name out, trying to see how it felt. I liked it. It was classical, poised, self-possessed. The television flickered to life. An image of Captain Sisko stood out in muted grey on the screen with the words, "Are you still watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine?" writ large across it.

"Well? Are you?" The smug asshole in my head asked. I cringed, remembering that Mary had come in and seen that. I turned off Netflix, and turned on regular television. I hadn't turned on regular television in months, so I was pleasantly surprised when an old Cheer's Re-Run was on. Sam and Diane we're slapping each other for some reason. I listened to it with half an ear as I packed another bowl. After all, I had to get rid of all of the weed before next time, whenever that might be.

The laugh track faded out as I put the pipe to my lips and applied the flame, drawing in a ragged, harsh cloud to my lungs. Commercials. How jarring. A dark and sinister voice replaced the laugh track.

"Mary Cantori wants to raise your taxes."

The voice was so sinister that I had to look up. And there she was, back in my living room, staring at me with her cold shark's eyes. This time she was wearing a sensible red pantsuit, with a black blouse and a small rose pin on the lapel. Her long sexy raid hair was done up in a tight bun, that made her look colder and even more predatory than she had before. She was standing at a podium, addressing a crowd. The quality of the audio faded a bit as Mary began to speak. My mind went numb. I coughed out a huge gout of pot smoke as the commercial played.

"Certain Social Services are important, and taxes are what pay for them. It's as simple as that."

"Is it Mary?" The sinister voice asked, a slow, discordant noise playing under the words. "She also has no respect for the Sanctity of Marriage."

The camera cut to another clip of Mary behind a podium. This time her suit was blue, and her bun was looser, less formal.

"Any two consenting adults who want to get married, should be allowed." The discordant noise grew to a high crescendo, as the sinister voice came back in.




The Woman After Midnight



Janice -a Woman after Midnight 

I was late getting to Deborah's. I'd been away for three months reporting the mess we are making in the Middle East. 

I am Peter Fuller. That's what I do, I am a journalist/reporter but the job wrecks one's social life. I have already gone through two broken relationships, being away for so long.

Although Debs and I have been together for three years and purchased a nice little cottage near Winchester, England, she complains all that time that we have actually only been physically together for a period of six months.

"It is not like you are on a nine to five job and we see each other evenings and weekends and sleep together every night. You are off for weeks at a time and I get very stressed about it Peter."

It is understood, who would expect a woman to be that patient in putting up with long absences - unless she really was special, and that's my Debs, I don't know how she puts up with me but I know one thing, it makes me love her all the more and I am absolutely besotted by her, to seriously consider giving up the reporting lark and settling down to being just a writer - like doing my work from home with plenty of time for my girl and our social life, would be a hard nut to crack. I am in my element and love my work very much, I strive to report the facts as they are in my own words which are appreciated, and remaining freelance, I am able to offer my reports to the best bidder.

The vacant space in Deb's double bed has been like it on and off for far too long she complains. And she threatens that an admirer in the film studio has made several advances.

She gets to know the stars too in her work as script supervisor.

"Should I be worried?" I ask myself. I don't think so. She loves me too much.

But when I confronted her about how it must be so harassing for her, as it is with me, to withhold ones natural urges, adding that for a woman she is probably able to handle that; she looked at me daggers.

"You know very well the strength of my passion Peter so don't try to make it better for yourself."

"Well it is the same for me Debs. I just think of you and I am a goner. But that is not like being with you because I love you so much."

I aim to fill that void in our lives regularly; it is a crying shame that a woman like Debs has waited so long. I am taking up a job with Sky local news just undertaking local reporting. I shall miss the excitement of reporting overseas but it is a sacrifice I need to make. And anyway, it will enable me to have more time for my writing projects too

But though I am late Debs lets me in through the door, and greets me with a wonderful open hug , guiding me into the kitchen and fixing me something to eat and drink.

The male in me would much rather want to put that aside for later and be beside her to snuggle up and share her body with mine.

But a woman's practicality being what it is, I resolved that the best thing was for me to get my hunger buds sorted before anything else, and with Debs commenting on the way to my heart was through my stomach and that is what her Mum always said, I had no alternative than to accept.

"After all you need to get back some of that lost vitality if you want to share my bed for the night, Pete. I guess as usual this is just going to be a one night stand and you will be off again tomorrow, right?"

Now she was talking to me again after a brief silence, I knew the absence had made her heart grow fonder and I hoped her lust too. Of course I did, love and lust go together as far as she is concerned Correction; as far as we are concerned. Since I have known her has been a very passionate lover and that's for certain, but she always stipulates 'with the right guy' and so I consider myself very lucky to be her right guy because I have so very much to give her.

I tell her I shall be with her for the rest of the week. She looks at me happily and then says; "Well it is Wednesday today, that'll be four more days if you include the weekend - and then I suspect you will be away for another three months?"

"Yes but that will be the last time I will be parted from you for long periods. You see I have opted to go with the local TV news so I can spend more time at home with you, and perhaps get some writing in too."

"Are you serious Peter?

"Absolutely " 

Debs is so very special and I have never known a woman like her, and me treating her the way I do, sometimes I am thinking I ought to be shot. I would be so sorry if she gave me up and could never sleep if she went with another - me thinking that he was getting what should be mine, those so wonderful Debs special's like she was loving for England.

Just the thought that at last I would be sharing her bed and her being had besotted the mind for a week, since I managed at last to get whole week's leave, imagining a whole week with Debs. Heaven!

She smiled like I have never seen for a long time, she was one happy girl. She closed to me and planted the most delicious warm and simulating kiss.

Then suddenly she paused with a wry smile, one of those smiles like she was going to tease me; "Is this because I told you about the guy at the studio making advances?"

"It could be!" I said but then I continued; "It is mainly because I love you so much and cannot afford to lose you."

I thought it best to come out with it and tell her the truth. Debs was so alert she would know anyway if I lied.

I soon tuckered my pizza down as she watched me so endearingly, giving me the occasional smile which said so very much she loved me, her whole face lit up, then I returned her smile and touched her lips with my fingertips, she puckered her lips and smoothed them around my fingers. It was so very suggestive and sensual, then her eyes said everything, how much she needed me as much as I her, and soon we would be gratifying that need, what wonderful feeling that was always present with us.

She whispered how much she had missed me the last few months since we had not been with each other, and how she had endured many lonely nights aching and craving for me.

And I had been the same, so many times, thinking of her especially as my head hit the pillow and the throb set off the strong aching passion that wanted the real thing, and not just self-gratification with only the image of Debs there in my mind-set.

Now she was for real, looking so absolutely right and lovely in a sheer silk and satin negligee which, she said, she had just bought for my pleasure; along with a few other small 'knick-knacks' from Ann Summers, to keep me 'on heat.' (It was that Tiger thing about us again). Not as though she would need anything on that account that night, but the mind boggled as to what else she had bought - but she said as I often remembered her saying before, that I would have to wait, that perhaps if I was a good boy she may just treat me. 

"Awe!" I said, "and there was me planning on being a real naughty boy too!"

She chuckled in that certain way and took my hand and led me up the stairs, like we were climbing the steps to heaven, her heaven and mine shared...

She just stood there in her negligee and looked a million dollars, that's all she had to do, to lure me to her den, in my mind were those hot days of summer when she'd purr and make me growl like a tiger. It had been so very long that my nerves were all asunder, the waiting, the hoping, the sheer frustration was now in the past and here she was now, standing there in front of me, looking so wonderful, sexy and inviting.

I guess I had frozen in my stance just gazing at her beauty; she was as stunning as ever she was and then she closed to me, brushing her lips against mine and rubbing her nose to mine as her fingers gently clasped around the back of my neck and teased me there.

"I do think it would be a good idea if you get undressed, Pete if you are going to bed with me?"

Stuttering and still in a state of excitement I sort or trundled toward the bathroom.

"And where do you think you are going, lover mine?" Debs queried.

"I should shower and change! I replied." It's been a long day and all that travel dust.

She just stood there as if to say it didn't matter - as I remember she had done before, but she must have read my mind because I just felt I needed to be squeaky clean for her, she was my woman and I wanted to give her my best, and I would not feel comfortable unless I showered. The way she smelt, the way she looked. Her whole charisma demanded the very best

"If you must then Pete -you will find a clean towel inside. I will go and warm the bed, so don't be long huh? This girl has waited long enough!"

I ventured into the bathroom with her perfume tantalising my nostrils and soon it was off clothes and dowsing under the shower.

I heard Debs cry from beyond: "Sing for me, baby?"

It was part of our scenario, for me to sing in the shower, "Are you singing for your supper?" she added with a certain huskiness in her voice which drove me crazy

Drying myself I felt a surge - my mind saying 'down boy, save it for later - I guess it had become part of the shower scene- like it was force of habit to see to 'Freddy' with wild imaginings of Debs - but the substitute was not needed , definitely not for Freddy who would be well served tonight. Freddy was a name chosen by Debs, given to a very important part of me and not to be spoiled by a premature ejaculation.

And always remembered, Debs had her solution for that, given a pair of her panties and a quick tie in the right place ... I wonder if she will remember. I hope so because after so long without was bound to be like that tonight. Although as far as I was concerned, I knew it would not be a problem, I had saved it all for my baby and if it was quick at first, it would be better the next time, and the next, usually in one hour intervals given the spur. And Debs was expert at that. She just loved to play and tease me and always tied me there for the occasion. And then, releasing the tie, I knew the volcano would erupt but Debs would be there to cork it so to speak. That was always so special. And there she'd be, on top of me and taking control. It was nice. It was special. It was Debs taking charge which did not matter. Sometimes I would take the helm which was always fun.

As always, remembering Debs taste, I wore a pair of burgundy Calvin Kline boxer shorts, she hated briefs, much preferred boxers - closing the bathroom door behind me I made for the bed with its attractive burgundy duvet to match the decor, Debs was particular about that and there she was, my baby, sitting there beneath the duvet and looking wonderful and flushed, as I remembered her to be at times like these. She was beautiful and everything I wanted in a woman, I loved her to bits and it was definitely a love match - and as soon as I filled that gap beside her, the gap that had been vacant for so long, I snuggled down with her and instantly felt the warmth of her so tender -to- touch body through the sheer silkiness of her black negligee, she slipped down and first our lips met in a so passionate a deep searching kiss and we were almost complete again, I felt her body shudder;

"It's been so long, Darling!" She whispered as she turned facing away from me, she hadn't altered her habits, the way she liked me to snuggle up to her behind, except when she was being in charge, but at night this was usually the procedure; to clasp her firm bosom with my searching hands as I felt the urge grow and neatly slip between her diamond, that so wonderfully feminine gap between the thighs where Freddy could temporarily lodge and take in the beautiful feel and pulsations of her Cherry, the part of her just as important as Freddy - where he could sink into her and feel her love bring him to a head and she too, to reach that wonderful waterloo which would bond their deep lust and love so perfectly

"You are my Mr Perfection, you are my man as only a man can be," she whispered as our passion started to grow more demanding.

I heard the clock downstairs strike twelve times, glanced though the window and saw a big bright moon. 

"And you are my woman after midnight" I said.

Now we were together again, it felt so good, like our souls were as one. The feel of her body toned with the warmth of her soft curves were something I'd missed so very much.

Debs was the Debs I would never want to change; she was my woman forever and now my woman after midnight - when there were just us and no other distractions to hinder the magic of our loving.

I felt her hand go down to me as, still lodged there between she squeezed his head so very gently;

"I have missed you so much" she whispered as I felt the delicious tease of her finger tips there. I moved a little to enjoy the moment of her first touch there for so long, I moved to allow her more access and felt the tight clasp of her hand around me. 

"Mmm! My Freddy" she whispered and her massage was as good as always, the so delicate way she moistened her fingers and I knew then what would follow, something I felt was unique with us, which surely could never be emulated with so much love and so much pleasure. The way she teased and stretched him back, the; ' Oh! My God!' way she teased his 'plum' around and around.

We arranged ourselves comfortably and kissed awhile as we both enjoyed the magic touching. She feeling so very warm and soft and moist and welcoming, and to know that we were enjoying the moment together was utter perfection, feeling the actual throb of the thrill we shared so wonderfully. Those are the wonderful things I love about Debs. She has these 'dinky doo' Names for everything that helps make our inion complete.

Her kisses grew deeper and more exploratory, her tongue doing lovely things to mine as we sunk into our paradise like we were on a white fluffy cloud in space.

Then she was on top, spread eagled over me as she manoeuvred herself upwards, it was her special delight to nestle over me, letting me enjoy and take in her gorgeous curves and the magic of her femininity as she gently massaged my face with the moistness of her wonderfully stimulating burgundy thong. Teasing me but not letting me see her beneath, not yet!

It was one of the things we had both discovered in our enjoyment of each other, it was a very intimate thing to do, to sniff her scent, and taste her nectar which so very much enhanced our deep love for each other. I felt her squeeze the tip of my nose and the moment she did that always signalled the sheer heaven to come, when she arranged herself so beautifully, my nose tucked into her there; to stimulate that certain part of a woman's anatomy that would pleasure her to the hilt, as my lips were perfectly placed to sink in between hers, releasing the tie on her thong I pulled it away with my teeth until my mouth and my busy tongue sunk into her, taking in her taste of honey and all that was so beautifully feminine and complementary to our way of loving.

Wow! I loved this woman so much I wanted to give her my all. Holding my breath I was absolutely lost in her rich smothering and, given a nudge of my hand upon her thigh, she knew it was time, not to stop - because that would continue for some time - but for me to take air and then sink into her again, hearing the ecstasy in her sounds of pleasure as I suckled her. Then, her fingers were doing wonderful things below, the touchy feel of excellence and quality matching the same I would enjoy with her. Then, me on top and nestling down over her - just so gently teasing and rubbing her erect nipples with the touch of Freddy's head, which she adored so very much, then she; crying out for the touch of him and the taste of him, as I gently massaged my complete masculinity touching her face, she turning this and that way to feel his swell in different ways, I felt her warm deep suck and marvelled at the way she took him so deep, her fingers digging into the sides of my thighs as she manoeuvred me until I completely smothered her as she had done with me.

It was the woman I craved for, there was no other like her in mind, we were completely compatible and as I felt the ecstasy of her mouth taking me whole. I knew that is what she desired, now she was giving me the complete waterloo as I had done with her, and to see the utter pleasure and enjoyment in her face as I pulled away from her, her face glistening with my love - her fingers still teasing me there as still I came like it was a never ending volcanic eruption, she whispered I was her man for life, that she could never ever imagine being with any other, especially like that - it was something between us and we felt the absolute gratification enhance our beings as we fell into deep slumber, our complete bond still to come in the dawn with the rising of the morning sun as it shone through the window upon our naked bodies.

But first we needed a shower, we really did and my mouth so dry, as it always was afterwards, I went and boiled up the kettle and after our together shower we could enjoy the coffee and let our love flow once more.

She'd soon be touching me again and me her, stroking the rich softness of her curves and so very much enjoying my woman.

"I do love you so much, Pete" she whispered after a soft kiss, her fingers embracing the back of my neck. This was real love so complete.

We lay laid and talked. There was never any rush, the life out there was for rushing, but the life inside, with Debs, in her bed, was for chilling, just for being utterly as one with each other, feeling the rising sun soak our bodies, hearing the bird-song so good and soothing. Like making love with Debs, like it was last night after midnight.

"It will be so nice when you finish the reporting," Debs whispered with a sleepy smile, " I can imagine you sitting there at your computer, researching a new novel, me you reader and attender, bringing you in coffee and bundles of love, now and again enjoying mischievous adulations with you beneath your desk as you try to work"

Debs giggled, we'd been there, done that, it was always so enthralling, my knowing she had crept silently under there thinking I hadn't noticed, it was all part of the games we played, it was wonderful. Like when, likewise, I would try to surprise her; creeping up behind her in the kitchen, of course she knew what I was about, that is why she wore that certain tight black skirt that drove me crazy, that and the very sexy wiggle that invited a Freddy visit, she bent deliciously across the mahogany kitchen table where she served her delightful recipes, but then for me to serve mine to her, with the aid of a deep filled cushion to raise her to just the right position, the rolling back of her skirt above her waist, the stripping of those gorgeous red silk frilled panties, me on my knees before the visit, getting the taste of her once more, and then as she guided me there.

I felt her succumb to my entry so warm and massaging, she taking all of me deep inside, feeling the utter joy of her thrilling fuck - but then, when we found another way to share our love, she did want me like that, she did - I had often wondered, I had felt awkward about it but often imagined; wouldn't it be nice to have her like that, her hind so inviting and wanting, we made it slow first time, then when we got practiced it was part of our scene, and now it comes naturally, so long as she guides me there after I have visited Cherry, that is how she tells me, she would like it there, and it is lovely and all part of our perfect loving relationship, the kitchen table I guess has never been so well used.

Sitting there in the bed, we talked about those memories - some of more than five years back. "Don't you think it is time we lived together, Pete?"

Of course I did, I would tell the boss next day, my reporting days are done, there was so much in my head needing to come out, I reckon I had several books just waiting to be written inside my head, and the reporting had helped, all the things I'd seen and done, many were remarkable, there was surely a world out there waiting to read about my exploits.




The Woman After Midnight



And above all else there was sweet Debs to keep happy and warm, my veritable after midnight woman, but so much more than that when we live together`- it would be my any time woman, any time she wanted me I would be there, not miles away. It certainly sounds good to me.

The beautiful slumber done, our conversation expended, and the sun shining through the window seemed to herald our new life.

I tell her; "being with you, loving and nurturing you through and through, spoiling you that's what I shall do."

Feeling your warmth come to me again, "love me forever" you whisper so sweetly in my ear. 

"I shall, I shall, for ever and ever more" I reply, needing the feel of her love potion once more, it starts to drum inside me, I feel her wanting as her kiss finds mine, and her eyes close and our love vibes bond, I slip down between her breasts and enjoy the sheer warmth of the woman I love, then Freddy emerges once again, hungry and wanting his Cherry so warm,

She couples with me so perfectly, I feel her feet around my waist as I bend between her thighs, then her hands clasp tightly around my neck as she urges me to fill her will love, passion and lust combined. 

"Fuck me now, please fuck me now" she alerted and I am hers.

We both feel the magic of love between us, the wonder of her deepness consumes me complete, no need to rush, and I tell her. "Let's take it nice and slow, feel the throb of love from head to toe.

"Never want you to stop loving me, Baby" I hear you say, then; "Stop awhile I need it to last" 

I do and we enjoy the vibes come through, the need, the passion to hold us together, body and soul. Then I feel your fingertips start to move behind my neck, your heels tighten around my back, and a beautiful rhythm within as instinctively our love builds and the passion and lust drives me to take you deep and rough. You start to move with me, your body rising when each thrust is spent, to welcome another even stronger, until we feel the magic of our fuck enter our very souls and take control, then we reach that wonderful climax that really expends all our physical and emotional strength, and when it comes, we both yell out, it was so very good, so perfect.

Debs is and always will be my woman, my after midnight woman forever and for all time too.

******************************

CHAPTER TWO

You may have read about our sometimes problematic romance from Peter's perspective.

Now it is the turn of Peters 'woman after midnight' as he wants me to be, but the woman is invariably alone under the duvet most nights longing for the feel of her man beside her, but sadly left with the fantasies of dreams and erotic memories of our best times together, when he would make me feel like a real woman.

And I guess that is what has held me to him so far. I am not altogether sure I am really in love with him, whether it is just the sex element, that which with Peter, is rationed to the times he manages to get away from his overseas reporting.

My other half as he likes to call himself tells me he is besotted by me and loves me very much.

Peter is a very busy guy, devoted to his calling as a top line TV reporter which, unfortunately means that he is away weeks on end. And he does like to get involved in the Middle East and anywhere where there are wars going on. It is scary sometimes to see him in the midst of it when watching him on Sky News and I feel it is only a matter of time before he gets shot up or something even more devastating like being blown up.

He tells me all precautions are taken when filming the reports. But I know for a fact, because I have heard it said by one of his working colleagues, that the news company allocate the most dangerous reports to Peter because if his courage and calm, when all, around him seems to be in chaos.

When he does get home, which is usually for about a week he really spoils me, treats me to dinners and a theatre trip or whatever takes my fancy. And then we just close ourselves off from the world in Peter's holiday cottage in Cornwall, and let our emotions free.

We are both highly passionate people which is divine and lovely and I feel so absolutely wonderful to share all with Peter. He is my Adonis sublime I tell him and he loves me in the most exciting and thrilling way. When we are like that, when we are together nothing else seems to matter. All the trauma and anxieties of Peter not being there when I need and want him seem to dissolve into nothingness.

I am spellbound when we share a duvet which is often thrown off as we twist and tangle in the joy of allowing instinct to join us together, we are in that heaven on earth that only a combination of physical and emotional love can muster. It is perfect and every time we do it, his fuck seems as fresh as ever.

However, it is all very well being passionate but although everything seems perfect when he is with me, as soon as he has gone again, maybe for another three months or sometimes more, I am left with emptiness, and after a week's absence; I am left with just an alluring numbness of our prolonged activity and the passion within craves for more.

If only Peter would opt for local reporting. He vows that he is about to do so and his editor is fine with that. But I feel it is in his blood and he will have difficulty in changing. He tells me our relationship is far more important and comes second to what he does for a living. It is not like he will be giving up his job completely, he will still have lots of work locally, he has been promised that. But by the same token I understand his boss presses him to carry on with being the chief foreign reporter and I don't really know what I can do to persuade him otherwise, I am fed up with his empty promises and feel of late I cannot go on being his occasional woman.

My friends tell me I am worth more than that. They keep saying all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Not that refers to Peter, he is never dull. When he is with me is seems he is guilty about neglecting me and we spend days doing the things we both like. And always when we retire to our bed of wondrous delights I never have to look at the ceiling and think of England. Even during the rare occasions we do it in ministerial mode, much of the time I like to be on top taking control of the situation and that is lovely. And most times we reach that wonderful waterloo - like lovers do, in the early hours when all our foreplay has been well and truly exercised and we yearn for that final release, when our bodies fuse and static electricity strikes and we are as one.

And that is why he calls me his Midnight Woman. I have hinted many times that it is more like I am his occasional woman and I guess that is why our romance never dulls, because he is forever trying to make up for lost time.

Janice says she would like her guy to be away a bit more just for the rest. She reckons too much sex is as bad as too little. But I tell her there is a limit with Peter being absent for weeks on end. That I feel I cannot just keep going on this way, that there has to be some release.

"However do you manage without Deb? I am sure I couldn't."

"Sex isn't the be all and end all" I lied.

"I guess it is how you are," Janice quipped. "Some women are more passionate than others in that direction I am told."

Janice reads lots of magazines which I think put so many women into the same category. But I don't tell her just how difficult it is for me, that I have to rely on visits to Ann Summers to procure a vital substitute for abstinence. But no matter how good the latest Japanese job is, it can never compare with the real thing. And for me there is the emotional element. I can and I do image Peter in my mind when I use sex toys and pretend he is there, but when the vital climax is done and I am back on terra firma so to speak, I feel empty and cold again.

There has to be another way. I tease Peter about advances made to me at work, guys working on film sets can be quite frivolous and I don't mind that, so long as they don't take me for granted and try it on without my consent.

But I won't deny that one or two guys are lodged in my mind-set. I keep thinking if only I was free and how would it be just occasionally to play the field. As many do.

Janice seems to know me more than any others at work, she can tell if I am feeling melancholy as she puts it, and is a great conversationalist. I have come to trust her devoutly as a good friend and she seems to know me inside out.

I know she takes pity on my missing Peter so much, but she knows not to show it. Lately she has been trying to steer my thoughts away from my dilemma. She reckons there are other ways than one to skin a cat, meaning in her terms; other ways to ease the frustration of abstinence, because she knows all about me and how I become depressed in not having a regular guy.

I can tell she has her doubts about Peter. Because she queries why he is always away for weeks on end when others, one sees on TV - who report abroad, are back within a week.

I tell her in Peter's defence, that is how he gets the best stories, by being there and living like the local people who suffer the indignities of war and bloodshed. That is what he tells me and I believe him. But it doesn't make it any better. I just keep telling myself that I mustn't be selfish, remembering just how awful it must be for those poor people out there.

When Janice invited me, along with another friend of hers called Charmaine, to a Swingers Party where real hulks strip, I was immediately apprehensive to say the least.

"Come on Debs don't be a puritan, come and live a little, you deserve it" Janice announced as though I had been deprived of something vital. Then there again, I guess I have but I was a little dodgy about what she had in mind.

"I have heard of the Chippendales"" I said "and to be honest I cannot quite see myself, sat with a bundle of other females, gawping at a load of fella's in their next to nothings. When I am quite happy with what Peter has to offer!"

I put on a nervous smile and of course Janice had to say; "That is when he is here, but when he is away that is when the pussy will play."

"That is so vile, Janice!"

"Come. Come, Debs, don't pretend to be all puritan, you well know what I mean."

"I am not a cat, just a normal woman. I am thinking what Peter would think if he knew I was going to swinger's parties."

"He has no need to know Deb. It's not that you are going to have an illicit affair with one of the lovely guys, it is just a bit of fun that's all and very good for the soul -and anyway, they are not The Chippendales. We could not afford them. Charmaine says they are sexier and have this way about them to make you feel at ease. Come on Debs, give it a go, you just may enjoy. Get rid of some of those cobwebs."

I decided to go along with it, I trusted Janice and she was a good spirit. Perhaps she knew better than I what would please me. I have to admit there is an element of curiosity lodged in the mind-set which I guess has been clouded by the assumption that I could be cheating on Peter.

Nothing tried, nothing gained as they say and all of a sudden I felt I wanted to try. I got myself all sexed up in a very alluring black taffeta dress with all the trimming, bundled my hair into a bunny grip and boldly stepped out of my door to meet the girls waiting outside in a prearranged Taxi.

"So glad you came, Debs, you look really good. I reckon those guys called the Maroons will be watching you as much as you will be watching them." Janice said with a wink.

I laughed nervously and we were on our way to a venue which Janice called a very thrilling adventure. 

"Charmaine has already chosen her Adonis and so have I; I wonder who will be yours Deb?"

"You mean you have done this before Janice?

"Yep, been there, done that. That is why we want second helpings"

I was not quite sure what she meant but I guess I was about to find out as we drew up by the entrance of the swingers club. I had no idea what was in store, Charmaine and Janice had not divulged much except that the guys were very good with their stripping routine.

The guy at the door welcomed us with a wry smile and Janice said I was a new member and she was entitled to accompany me, and she would pick up my new pass from reception office.

"You mean there is an admittance fee, Janice?" I asked.

"No it is an annual membership fee which has been settled, so no problems about that. It is my gift to you for being such a good friend."

"So you had all this planned even before I agreed to come with you, Janice. But thanks anyway!"

"And besides, I just wanted to see you enjoy some harmless fun" Janice added with a mischievous smile.

I ventured into the low lit club and joined the girls on a table for three.

"What would you like to drink Debs?" asked Janice. "We usually have a glass of the house wine which breaks the ice. I can tell you Debs you are in for a real treat, these guys are really something. And please don't look so embarrassed, you are out for a good time okay? Forget Peter for a while and give yourself some time off."

I was shivering though with excitement. I was not naive enough to know what all this was all about. But Janice attempted to console me saying that when guys watch girls strip, their tongues are hanging out and they all look so serious. "We girls are much more cultured than that -for want of a better word- we laugh and have a load of fun. Just remember that Debs and enjoy, you shall not be disappointed I can assure you."

"I still can't help thinking about how Peter will respond when I tell him."

"But why tell him? As I said before you are not committing anything gross with another guy, you are simply watching that's all and having some innocent fun. Just chill out because here they come now, all four of them."

The guys took a line to some appropriate music and stood there in tight chinos and white flowing shirts. They all had sparkling smiles and looked to be really nice guys.

Janice pointed them out one by one; "He is Jason" she said pointing and then moving to the next; "He is John and then there is Mark and Bob."

There were a number of other girls there making quite a racket and urging the guys to commence their strip.

"What do you think so far Debs?" asked Charmaine with a real glitter in her eyes, which were mainly focussed on the guys torsos and not at me. I must have been blushing intensely.

"The blush tells me you are fascinated" she continued and Janice looked at me and glowed, prompting me to settle and enjoy the show.

At least I was in good company. I don't think I could ever have done this alone. Then one of the guys came up close to me, looked deeply into my eyes and gave me such a glowing smile I was absolutely captivated I must say. I saw Janice nodding as if to say I was doing just fine

"You are new here aren't you?" the guy said.

"This is lovely Jason, my favourite" Janice interrupted.

Answering Jason I said this was my first time.

"What do they say about there is a first time for everything?" he winked and immediately stripped away his shirt, throwing it on our table and staring at me all the time. Charmaine was quick to grab it and stuff it into her handbag.

Then he said; "I had better be on my best behaviour for you then huh?"

"My name is Deb" I said trying to ignore his question and then Charmaine yelled that would be no fun at all, adding that she wanted him to misbehave the way the girls liked it.

"Like this? He said standing upright but just gently twisting to the rhythm of the music, then leaning back to enhance a very appealing breakfast basket. That is what Peter liked me to call it.` I realised my whole being was responding to the thrill of seeing that, enhanced by the way he moved and jiggled, gently stroking his hand over there.

Charmaine was there like a jack in the box yelling that it was her job and replacing his hand with hers.

Jason removed her hand saying; "Perhaps it had better be debs first? it is her first time."

I was lost for words, there he was moving his credentials so close to me, prompting me to touch and I was responding. "What was in that wine?" I asked Janice.

"It's not the wine that heats you up but the vine" she laughed "Take a feel Debs, just a squeeze even, go on. It won't hurt, will it Jason?"

Jason came closer; he couldn't have come much closer. I was sitting and he was standing, need I say more? My hand wanted to touch but I was hesitant. One part of me was asking what the devil I was doing there but the other was driving me on, telling me that I would really love to touch Jason. He looked everything a woman could want in a guy, a gorgeous trim figure, great looks although very boyish, but I liked that. He looked about ten years younger than me but that smile! Oh Boy! It was irresistible

The other guys were already well away and girls were prompting them to "take 'em off pronto!"

I realised this was going to be a lot more than just an innocent strip show, these guys were out to show all and the girls were liking it.

Jason still continued to tease me until finally I took the plunge and touched him ever so carefully. His left thigh, that is. But he took a gentle hold of my hand and guided it upwards and I felt the smoothness of his very sexy silk thong which was enchanting. I could never have done that myself and when his hand came away from mine it was still there, smoothing his wonderful masculinity. 

"There, that's not so bad is it?" Jason whispered and Janice was all ears. 

But leaning down and whispering into my ear he told me; "We should meet privately Debs, I like you very much, not just for this but for you too, complete package."

I don't know if Janice heard but she looked a little envious. It all came as a surprise, could I be hearing right that this young guy wanted to become properly acquainted" I hesitated and as if he understood my dilemma he said to let him know later.

"Are you okay Janice" I asked, seeing she looked a little cross as she ran her finger tips along Jason's hind..

"It is just that he is my favourite" she said looking a bit daunted."

Jason heard because he said there was enough there for two and I couldn't argue with that. I felt the swell as he prompted me to squeeze it and it felt so wonderful.

"Come on then, my turn" Janice sizzled, "you seem to have stoked him up well and good!" and moving my hand, away - hers was there, but not just stroking, she was squeezing for all she was worth and the next thing I knew; she'd prized his masculinity well out of his thong and Jason was upright and standing to attention as Janice sighed and muttered something about the quality of his tackle.

By this time there was an awful lot of heavy breathing going on and a lot of laughter too. There were about ten girls there being entertained by four guys who certainly knew how to show off their best credentials; enhanced by the way they moved to the music and knowing just how to tease the girls, ensuring that no girl was left out.

I say girls but two of them were well into their late forties and even I felt a little bit ancient being in my early thirties, The guys all looked to be about twenties and gorgeously fresh.

"I didn't think the guys would go this far" I told Janice.

She looked surprised; "You mean you have never heard of swinger's parties and your being in the film business too."

"I have heard of them but never realised they could be this bold."

"You don't seem disappointed and that's good. Just let your hair down and enjoy. You may be delightfully surprised. Hey! Look at Charmaine with Mark. She wastes no time huh?"

Charmaine was busy doing something I could never have envisaged, and doing it in public too. 

Janice seemed to sense my thoughts saying it just didn't matter what we did. So long as it was congenial with the guys, after all it was just a casual fling and nothing serious.




The Woman After Midnight



"You mean that oral sex is okay with you too, Janice."

She laughed and told me I was far too prudent. All the time eagerly feeling and touching Jason everywhere and he just standing there, presenting himself like a prize cucumber. I really could see the funny side of it and Jason said he was happy I was pleased with his assets.

"He loves this, you just watch debs" and Janice kissed him there, gently bunching him beneath and he parted his legs a little more, showing explicitly how well hung he was."

I was beginning to get into the swing of things and strangely felt myself beginning to enjoy all that was going on so very much. Seeing all the other girls taking turns with the guys was incredibly thrilling.

"Now it is your turn" Janice said her face plum red. "Taking turns can be so much fun."

But I was still a novice and I still felt a little unsure.

"Come on Debs," Jason urged;" you know you would like to, I won't bite unless you want me to."

Jason looked down at me and I felt a certain stimulation erupt in my body. Like it was when I was with Peter for the very first time

But this wasn't Peter. For the first time in my life I felt myself being drawn to a complete stranger, and yet here he was, dangling his tackle delightfully before me, Janice had indeed stoked him up as she put it and I watched it jerk as Jason whispered 'go for it!" 

I was momentarily submerged in a flashback enjoying Peter beneath the duvet. He was nice and supple as we expressed our passion in basic terms, because somehow that always seemed to suit the occasion.

"Suck him then darling, suck my cock?" Peter's words rang in my ears. Not 'Freddy' when we began to made love, when I was his 'cherry' - now came the basics when we indulged in our sexual frenzies, Freddy was the name we called it generally, now it was quintessentially cock and 'cherry' was pussy. And there I was, in my complete element, enjoying my 'cock' to the full and then with a suitable position change, we could simultaneously enjoy the taste and unique intimacy of each other.

But now I am back to the present and contemplating if I should like to 'suck cock' with Jason. He was teasing me, prompting me to do it. And so was Janice.

"But I have only ever done it with Peter."

"So?" She quipped.

"Well it seems that it is not right doing it with another. You see, I believe I do love Peter in my own way and vowed when we met, and he tried to get me to do oral when we first started going out with each other. It was just something in me that said it wasn't right until I knew I loved the guy."

"Well perhaps you are right Debs" said Janice but this is just a bit of fun, no strings attached, it is surely a physical thing, see how the others are enjoying it, and some who have partners, say it helps keeps their relationship alive."

I thought about it, and frankly, I had the zest for it. Jason's glory looked truly magnificent but then I was concerned that I may get overwhelmed and want more and I told Janice so."

"Have you never got an orgasm without full intercourse Debs? Surely you have?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"Just with imagery. Not in actuality."

"Well now the time is ripe to go further. Look, Jason is so very patient waiting for your mouth, just do it and I promise you will love it."

"He is a lot bigger than Peter" I said without thinking>"

"I am not surprised with all the women around to spoil him to the hilt" Janice said taking Jason momentarily into her mouth. Then she glanced at me looking intent, then, letting it slip out again yelled;" "Quickly, whilst it is still warm."

He turned to me, almost rubbing my cheeks with it... I could take in the scent. That was the ultimate turn on for me with Peter. The smell of sex and now I recalled the taste in my throat; the taste of cock; of throbbing wanting cock alluring me to sample the flavour. Now I knew I was getting frisky, the language of sex in my mind -set, just as it is with Peter. Always so appealing and comforting.

Now I wanted to suck Jason, I really did. I closed my eyes and went for it. His gentle hand covered my head, gently pressing, his hand guiding me to him beneath. He liked the balling just like Peter did. I tasted the pungent familiar nectar of cock with just a hint of sea salt. I felt so good and wonderful sucking this dear guy who seemed fully to understand the needs of a woman like me, whispering to me that what I was doing was gorgeous.

I took my time, there was no hurry and. glancing about me I saw that Janice was now busy with Bob and Charmaine was with John. As I sucked profusely I still could not believe this was happening to me, but I was and there was no going back. Not as though I wanted to. This was so wonderfully soothing simply to enjoy the carnal pleasures available to us all that evening.

As I continued to suck and ball Jason I instinctively moved my free hand down and underneath my skirt and soon found want I wanted. It was so lovely to tease myself with my fingertips as I continued to enjoy Jason deep throat.

"You are doing magnificently" Jason whispered.

"Tell me if you want me to stop" I said taking a breather. I was concerned he would reach a climax before he needed too, like sometimes Peter did and he had to finish me off by other means, having lost his erection.

After all what Jason was doing was his job but I had no idea, until he explained what the ring was for, clasping the root of his length, me thinking it was just for show like the stud in his belly button. But I discovered it was to hold him back until the time was right.

Although to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have minded if he had gone all the way, orally I mean. It took me a while to do that with Peter but since that first time, it has become standard, like when we indulge in mutual deep oral. I love the taste of cock and all its facets and now, tasting another was so very thrilling.

"The time could be right later with you Janice, if I can meet you privately" Jason suggested massaging his fingers around the back of my neck. "It will be special I promise because seriously, I really like you and want to get to know you more."

It was food for thought. Jason was really nice every way and I could do with an awful lot more of this guy. But for now I continued to enjoy what I was doing and soon felt myself build into a crescendo and, when I did the short pants, the rapid breathing was ominous; Jason let me finish at my leisure. He was so considerate and I had to think seriously about this offer and how that would affect my on-going relationship with Peter.

But in the meantime, sitting back in my chair I relished all the wonderful sensations Jason had given me and then had to watch him indulge with other girls who were eagerly awaiting his unique service. Now there were no holds barred, the precedence had been set by Janice, Charmaine and I guess myself and I admired the way each guy spoiled the girls to their heart's content.

Eventually the guys were done, the hour allocated was up and the guys departed. But Jason took time to whisper once more into my ear and suggested I give him a buzz on his mobile, and he left me his card.

I went home well and truly a far more happier and gratified woman I was before the party. I dithered the next day whether I should take up Jason's offer, but as Peter was due back in a couple of days I did text him asking if I could take a rain check.

If I was going to pursue this with Jason I wanted to feel perfectly right about it. Doing the wonderful things I did with him at the club was one thing, it could not be considered as an affair. But what ii he came to my place, how would that be and where are the limits to what is just a fling and an affair?

I was ain a dilemma but the truth is I was aching for Jason. He had that effect on me and no mistake, like I was a teenage girl again having my first fling. But then there was Peter who had never ever disappointed me in bed or generally.

Perhaps I needed to put it down to experience, it was just a night out and that was that. It was nice and very impelling and I discovered something of myself I never imagined, that was truly exciting and the temptation to pursue that was very strong. Jason was truly a very thrilling guy to know, not just sexually but as a person too. I found myself fantasising how it would be with him beneath the duvet, or even on top of it and that was strong enough to set me off into a prolonged session with my cherished vibrator, which kept me primarily happy whilst peter was absent.

But what should I do? I wanted Jason, yes I did. All my passion buds fluttered every time I thought about that evening at the swingers club. I was besotted by him, I really was. But because Peter was due home I had to conclude that maybe it would be better not to take up Jason's offer and remain strictly Peter's woman. His midnight woman when he was back home and we had spent a wonderful evening in each other's arms and finally he made me his real woman after midnight beneath the duvet.

I consoled myself that Jason and I had not indulged in anything other than sex play; we had not had intercourse so it was not like I had cheated on Peter.

I would hold my ground and be a good girl for Peter on the understanding that he would shortly give up the foreign reporting stint and give me more of his time.

I was a deeply passionate woman to a high degree and that had become increasingly evident when I visited the club, and felt all my inhibitions dissolve when I took Jason by mouth. This guy set my pace as never before in such a short space of time and I would have done absolutely anything with him if we had met privately that night. But he had another gig to attend which took him into the early hours; but maybe that was just as well because it did give me time to gather my thoughts.

For all I know it could have ended up as a one night stand, which would have been lovely, but I want more than that, and I think Jason knows that. I don't know what it is but there was just something there, like we had met before and lived with each other. It was really odd but deeply impelling and now this was the one thing that was preventing me from dismissing any idea of seeing Jason privately.

It was still there in my mind-set. I wanted Jason. I usually follow my heart and everything seems to work out okay generally. Peter was due in two days and I would set myself up for that.

But all that changed when on TV a new uprising had occurred in the Middle East and I just knew that would delay Pete for I don't know how many more days.

I was right. Peter telephoned to say he was sorry and I felt I was left in a vacuum. Nothing mattered any more about being faithful and I made the call which would make me one very happy woman...

Jason said in his beautifully sexy husky voice that he would be around Sunday. That it would be so nice to see me alone and in my own environment and to resume our brief but memorable acquaintance in the swingers club.

I had made the first move to something I could never have envisaged a week ago. But the truth is; after having been invited to visit the club with Janice and Charmaine, I was made alarmingly aware of the void in my life since Peter took on the foreign reporting post and the bubble had finally burst.

I have been making excuses so long both for me and Peter pretending all was fine with us` and it was always worth the long wait just to have him back with me for a few days leave.

It was as if I had been programmed to believe that was alright with me, when all the time I suffered the pangs of not having the warmth of a man next to me in bed, let alone the stuff we did on the sofa and in front of a roaring log fire on the flush thick pile red carpet.

It was always so romantic too so I guess I kidded myself that the arrangement was fine, that it would not last for ever and soon he would be with me constantly.

But since meeting Jason I realise that in my early thirties I am in the prime of my life and the way things were going as far as Peter was concerned, I would be old and bedraggled by the time he got to have a regular local job, as he keeps on promising.

I have so much to give and, by way of giving; to take as well. I know my passion has been controlled for too long and now there is a chance of escape, with one of the sexiest and wonderful guys I have ever met. Not to mention his sexual attractiveness that is rather overwhelming. It must have been strong to influence me to do the things I did in public, thanks to the drink also. I'm sure Janice must have put something into it.

"Of course I didn't" she claimed. "Don't blame the drink or me for your uncontrolled passion."

She was right; it was an impending passion waiting to be free.

But what I did made me realise just what I have been missing for long periods of time and how beautiful it was. It was of course very explicit and for some there seemed to be no holds barred with some of the girls who had no hesitation at all in going the full hog with Bill, who seemed to lure them into a steamy sexual encounter.

But I had my limits. For me some things are best done in private and not for the pleasure of gazing eyes, and there were a lot in the club who were doing that, some close up too.

Although it was none of my business I was happy to see that Jason did not go that far. About three girls enjoyed him orally as I had done but when he quietly told me I was the best I felt quite privileged.

As soon as I cleared my mind that is what I wanted to do, and as soon as I took him into my mouth I felt the utter warmth there. The feel of it spreading my cheeks was something beyond description and I took so much pleasure just sucking him gently with all the feelings I could muster. Glancing up I could see he was enjoying too, his eyes closed and his head leaning back as I nudged it between my teeth in a daringly suggestive way, and feeling it jerk to my pleasure was all that it could ever be. I just didn't want to let go, however the other girls were demanding their pleasure. But not before I took one final plunge and took him deep throat, holding him there for just as long as I could hold my breath; and then releasing the hold of what must have been, seven inches of pure heaven, popped out a wonderful glowing masterpiece of true masculine fervour.

I felt nothing could beat that. I heard his vocal response and knew I had done so well. I was one very happy woman enjoying that which I had missed so much. I won't deny I am really into oral stuff, especially when the guy is as attractive as the dark haired brown eyed Jason and, coming away from him to make way for the others, his eyes focussed into mine and said that he wanted more.

I took one more admiring glance at his beautiful length and could still feel and taste it there in my mouth. It hung there just for a few moments until its vacancy was filled with another very hungry girl who seemed to emulate what I had been doing. Like touching it, as she started to suck profusely.

I was thinking how amazing it must feel for those guys who are fortunate indeed to enjoy the yearning of those sexy women. Then I said to myself I was one of them, that now was the time to do something about it, so the invitation from Jason was always a yes in my mind no matter how one part of me said I should remember Peter and be good for him.

I had tasted the joy of his sex. But now I wanted what most women want, the whole man, to feel his arms around me and his warm kisses console my being. Not just to enjoy sex with him but all that is the real living person.

What the hell, that was no fun at all. It was no f8n any more just being there for Peter. Come to think of it I was bored with Peter's sex by numbers efforts sometimes, pretending it was doing me a lot of good and satisfying the sex buds, there have been times I just stared at the ceiling and hoped it would soon be all over. 

Yes there were those times and lately they were becoming more apparent. Am I really about to be a 'part-time lover as needs be and when Peter has time?

It was time for change and hopeful time to change my lover big time. And if I had a chance with Jason, that would be so wonderful. But could I accept him doing the job he did; whilst all those other women enjoyed my goods?

I was already thinking in a possessive mode and I hadn't even met him properly. I should get to know him first no doubt. Roll on, Sunday. I am so looking forward to that. To simply have the prospect of maybe having a new guy in my life. Not just for the sex, although that would be paramount, especially with Jason, he is everything a woman could wish for, just that certain look in his eyes I noticed when he was looking down at me feasting on his gorgeous attributes, me glancing upward to see his expression as I went for it deep and whole.

I so want to regenerate that moment in slow time, like in the movies when something stirring is happening. It will be beautiful with Jason I know it. 'Steady on' I tell myself, there will be plenty of time to show my true passion on Sunday. I shall show him just how it will be like with a woman like me; a woman who has been so utterly starved, not just of sex but emotion too.

It would not be so bad if I could skype with Peter on the internet, but because of bloody security we cannot even do that. Same goes for mobile phone contact. I cannot even hear his voice. Nothing!

This woman badly needs a real good seeing too, putting it mildly and I just feel Jason will have the solution 

Jason is sending me lots of texts. I love to be flattered; He sends about ten texts a day telling me how special I am. He is looking forward to our first real date and is not slow in saying the most intimate things that make my heart flutter as well as other things that make me happy to be a woman.

At last Sunday came and I watched Jason pull up in his very expensive Audi convertible and hoped he would be giving me a ride in it. He could not make it until late evening because of his work commitments so it seemed I would become his woman after midnight.

But at least, if we did become an item, he would not be abroad, he could be there every night for me and each morning I would awaken him with a full massage and breakfast bed. I would truly spoil him in all ways.

I opened the door before he rung and gave him my best smile. And there he was. Open armed with that wonderful smile which glowed personality and excitement. He looked fantastic in his beige chino's and open necked silk shirt revealing just a glimpse of that wonderful torso I'd remembered when he showed me it all.

"I aim to take you to dinner, Janice. I know a beautiful restaurant called salmon's Leap with a glorious view of the River Dart. Is that okay with you?"

There we were still standing in the hallway; he did not seem to want to come in. There was I expecting that he would be frivolous, like he was at the club, and wanting to come in and test the water so to speak. But surprise, surprise, it was nothing like that, he actually wanted to spoil me to cahoots and I was going to get a ride in that beautiful motor car of his besides a very romantic late Sunday evening dinner out.

I guess I was stuck for words. He asked if I was still alright about dating him. He seemed to jump to the conclusion that because he does what he does, I may not like to think about something more than just the sex.

"You are something special and I want to impress you wholly. The show work is simply just a job; I can think of it nothing more. Yes I do it because I enjoy it and feel good about it, to give the girls what they want without commitment, That can't be bad but it doesn't mean I think of the sex any more than what it is, a stimulant to ease the stress of modern life"

"Is that what you thought of me, a sorry woman starved of sex and behaving very outrageously?"




The Woman After Midnight



"I thought of none of those things about you, I could see you were shy but there was something more too deep in those eyes of yours. I hope to make it with you Janice big time. So just give me a chance and let it flow, and then if we want, we can maybe shed our passion if we feel compatible to do so.

"It is one thing to have some harmless fun in the swingers club but quite another if you feel like I feel about you, as a person. Let's give it a try huh?"

"Let's just do that," I said, "give me a couple of minutes to put on some suitable glad rags, Take a seat in the lounge."

He smiled and obeyed and helped himself to some grapes.

I wanted some real excitement in my life. Could Jason provide that? `. Too long I have been hutched up with waiting for Peter when he is ready and all his work is done, until the next time.

He is going to be without this woman after midnight sure enough if all goes to plan. I want that to happen, I am ready and I am willing. Just having Jason there in my lounge awaiting, is one great big confidence builder.

I am singing and nearly ready, feeling on top of the world to be having my first date with Jason. Is it really happening? Am I actually getting a break in my life?

And then, down the stairs to the lounge and he is there, waiting. It is not a dream that seemed too good to be true. There he was as large as life, a very handsome and lively bulk of a guy who opened all my channels leading to heaven.

"You look ravishing and almost too good to touch" he said with a wonderful pleasing smile.

I dared to say; "I hope not, else I will have to put on my gardening garb. You would not like me in that I am sure."

"You would look good in anything you wear and anything you don't" he said with a cheeky look in his eyes.

"You will have to come see my garden" I continued. "Do you like gardening Jason?"

"Definitely, If you are in it... And if you have a blue rose I will pick it just for you."

That was a good omen because I do. I told him so and he gave me that mischievous look once more saying he adores the perfume that it reminds him of love in full bloom.

"You are indeed a flatterer" I said.

"You deserve to be flattered and much else" he said quietly, his eyes penetrating mine now and I felt a sort of magnetism spring up inside which was much more than a love sprout, the sprout like the rosebud was opening and if he wanted he could have taken me right there and then.

His warm kiss, his first was indeed explorative and very French and instinctively I found myself hugging him so tight. It was simply heaven on earth to be close to Jason, indeed this close with no space between. So close I could feel the throb of that which I had enjoyed just days ago and I wanted more. It felt so right neatly pressing into my groin. I wanted to touch it there and then, through his chinos and show him just how this woman could be with a special guy like him.

He kissed me some more, both of us stood in a beam of sunlight pouring through the window and I felt the ultimate warmth of his being encroach me.

Would he go further and restore the lusty woman in me? I felt his strong hands around my shoulder blades, holding me steadfast into his kiss.

My hands so wanted to explore and show him my need. A touch maybe leading to more? He was lovely and so very sexy. His kiss did everything for me. It changed me from your usual standard everyday woman into a beast, a brazen hussy and a slut all into one.

I simply wanted just to let go my passion to mingle with his and nestle afterwards in his arms like he was the guy to end all guys I'd known before, ever Peter.

But we were much too entwined for me to explore and I believe that is show Jason wanted it to be.

I was beginning to think maybe he was a big tease and he would not be going there at all, that he had his limits like those I had enjoyed and maybe he just didn't want more.

I don't think so though, going by that kiss. Both of us having reached a point where we needed air.

My lips seemed numbed as he stopped. Now my hands itched to feel him and refresh recent memories, but the body language wasn't quite right. He seemed to want just to take me out.

He told me so in so many words. But most enlightening and extremely promising when he asked if he could sleep with me tonight.

"What a darned silly question!" I replied and he laughed heartily. In a way his kiss was a tease and he must have known he was excited down under, a promise of things to come?

I had never ever been so utterly besotted by a guy before. He was like a great big Teddy Bear I wanted to hug and spoil to my heart's content. I had never quite felt that way with Peter. It is strange how the tide turns and what one thought was the best, turns out to be just an inkling of the sheer exuberance and quality Jason has to offer...

As he guided me to his posh car hand in hand I felt for the entire world I belonged. It felt I was in love with this guy, deeply in love with a passion that could not be denied, like the blue rose that would be opened tonight full blossom, the petals being seductively picked from the bud that nurtured them and sprinkled over my true love. 

It seemed I was in a dream world as Jason drove me along the narrow country roads, occasionally turning his head around like he was checking my response.

Once or twice he drew into the side of a quiet road simply to kiss me. Like he too could not believe who was sitting beside him. His warm lips, touching mine again was delightful, and the feel of his touch on my knee said that he wanted more than the kiss. He inspired a confidence in me I thought had gone forever.

It was perfect and when we arrived at the pub restaurant, it was exactly as he described a beautiful location with a river view which seemed to herald our new life together. Was I being presumptuous? I don't think so, why would he go to such lengths to please me when he could have got what he wanted without.

He was the sort of guy who could seduce any woman he wanted but he had chosen me as distinct from those who just wanted him for his body.

This was magic, the way he led me to a pre-booked table said that he had the confidence to know I would agree to dining out with him, And that meant something to me.

Immediately sitting at a table for two opposite him and deciding on our choice I felt the pangs of what Meg Ryan did in her famous bit in stimulating a fake orgasm in public.

But if I was able to do that, and it would have been so easy, facing Jason and sharing glances and touching ankles, it would not have been fake, but real.

Most women know about getting an orgasm without intercourse. It is what is in the mind, concentrating on that which builds and generates and explodes into a wonderful climax. It is often a means to an end but as for me, well I am not open to excite others other than just Jason and me, and that is best delayed until later when both the physical and emotional elements can make for a perfect fuck.

We had the perfect pace near a window. The late summer sun started to sink beyond the horizon and made for a beautiful red hue in the sky.

Now it was my turn to tease with the precise handling of my chicken thigh and the gentle swivel of its bone in my mouth, gently but provocatively nibbling the meat away and then, gently but provocatively licking the bone before depositing it on my plate.

Watching the element of longing in his eyes as he watched intently, and then afterwards enjoying a peach melba it was his turn to excite, teasing open his peach and dipping his tongue inside to suckle the juice.

Those images were there in my mind again. Translating what that meant. It will be so easy for him to enjoy me that way and it would be so utterly divine to feel the sensations of his sexual inclinations.

I shall be so rudely sexy for him later; he would see me at my very best. All this build up generated a need in me that could only be gratified by the hunk of a guy opposite, who now sipped wine like I have never seen it sipped before, touching my glass with his and openly declaring; "here is to later"

And I knew that meant a lot more than just touching glasses.

Dinner done he said; what now?"

I replied and said for the second time that day; "Silly question" and he knew whar I meant -the way he stroked my knee, lifted my skirt beneath the table and stroked my inner thigh, sending a shudder up my spine.

He whispered just how nice that was, that I have beautiful thighs needing to be explored and spoiled and how much he wanted to get beneath my skirt.

That was much more precise and meaningful and we were beginning to enter into a new phase I knew that.

Strolling out to the car we held hands and then he opened the passenger door like a real gentleman. I felt the devilish need to tease him and lifting one leg into the car I purposely displayed the gap between and slowly drew up the other so that he could see beneath my skirt, just enough to advertise the goods on display and I had been sure to wear my sexiest black fishnet stockings with matching suspender belt and a pair if sheer plum red laced panties.

He took a good focus there and I could see the lust in his stare. I felt certain warmth in my stomach which made me feel so special to be admired by Jason.

As he came around to open the driver's side I saw that he had a distinct swelling and I was happy that I must have been the cause of that. Of course he gave me another kiss and I took the bait, the way he was perched on the seat thighs apart. And it was so very special and gratifying just to feel him there again a he moved his tongue with mine and we enjoyed a beautiful moment of splendour. Gosh, I wanted him so much.

The kiss finished, he would have seen the longing in my expression and there we were secretly touching each other simultaneously. But it had to end because others, who had also finished their meal, were making for their cars.

And anyway Jason said it would be better to save for later, he would not think that a quickie in the back of the car would do me justice for our very first time; that I was worth a lot more than that.

I felt him once more, just a squeeze would do for now. It felt so good and at that moment I felt it was mine, despite all the women he had served touchy feely and orally. He said that was just work, that he felt no emotion, it was just like doing the everyday thing that's all, but being with me was different because he could really let go.

We were talking about it as we made for home and heaven! I was thinking wow! With all the absolute display of tempting ardour at the club, how better could that be?

"It must be very thrilling t to be spoiled by several women a night."

Jason looked at me like he didn't want to talk about it much. "It is just a job" he said, seemingly wanting to reaffirm that it meant nothing to him except maybe job satisfaction, that he was doing so good for those women. In some cases he read that it helps a woman recoup something she has lost with her partner so that makes it worthwhile, and those women who seek happiness maybe are lonely, or simply those who want just to have some naughty fun, knowing there are no strings attached.

"Maybe except with us!" I grinned

"We are different. We know that already, Janice. I want to achieve my own carnal ends, to show you what being with a real guy means."

All guys I knew were egotistic but Jason had good reason to be. 

Now he was humouring me and I liked that. I wanted that we could enjoy some mutual banter that will be a real ice breaker later on. 

He said he wanted to take me to the zoo sometime soon. He'd noted that I had a few animal pictures knocking around in my lounge. What a guy. He really knew how to treat woman, he was ever considerate. I told him the last time I had visited a zoo was with Peter, the laugh of the afternoon was when we saw a couple of tortoises making it.

"That must be really tough Janice, so glad we don't have that problem."

"Only in my shell like" I chuckled. "But when I make love I don't mind so much about the sounds, it is more the sensation."

"But sometimes the sounds can be very stimulating" Jason replied. "Like when you were busy having me for lunch at the swingers club huh?" he added with that glint in his eye.

"Was I that noisy?" I asked.

"I am not complaining, as far as I was concerned yours was by far the best, loved the way you succulently appreciated my glans and wowed my shaft."

"One could say I have had lots of practice" I returned not believing I'd said that. But that is how it was with Jason. It was like we had known each other in another place, another world or something. And I did so like sucking him and feeling the sense of him in my mouth afterwards.

"You have done it often then Janice" he queried. 

"My first boyfriend introduced me and then Peter who is rather partial to mutual sucking."

"Hey, you are getting me going here, Janice. I am aching for you, do you know that?"

"Then please let me do something for you" I said and I meant it. I was really in the mood like I had been all day.

He pulled up at a convenient spot. He could keep watch whilst I did it. He said doing it in the club with mutual consent was one thing, but he didn't want to be done for indecent exposure.

All the time I liked what I heard and, undoing his zip I liked what I saw. "You can indecently expose yourself to me anytime" I chuckled gradually fishing him out from behind his boxer shorts.

"I love you in boxers" I said appreciatively I love this too more than you will ever know, you are superb Jason."

"I am glad I please" he laughed and I went down to him, my heart beating one to the dozen. He was sort of half-mast, different to how I saw him at the club, but still as attractive and he was perfectly hung I remember. I intended to strip him down to his knees but he reckoned it best to wait till later. He said he wanted that and I went along with him. I was rather too eager for my own good. Better to save some for later. But now I had the privilege of going down on him and enjoying a sneak preview so to speak. And most importantly I had him all to myself.

It was divine taking him in my mouth again, but this time I could concentrate with no one gawping at me and that was special, also to feel him growing against my tongue was a real bonus.

"You suck cock like a natural" Jason whispered between moans of approval and I so liked him using basics.

I adored the taste of his nectar and teased some pre-cum which sat on his glans so delightfully. It was the taste and the feel of the guy I wanted now to be with, Peter would be just a glimmer in the past. 

I finished him off with a brisk hand job which was so enjoyable. I sparkled with the thrill of doing that for him, his cock full in the palm of my hand as I squeezed, pulled and released until he reached a beautiful crescendo. I imagined how it would be like with this beautiful sample of masculinity riveting deep inside me after all the thrills of foreplay. It was delicious and wonderful.

"Methinks 'tis Time to go home now?" I said in my best Devonshire accent. "Do you know something Jason; you sound just a little French sometimes?"

"Maybe that's because my mother is French" he explained zipping himself up and pressing the bulge which was still there, sensually into his crotch. I felt it would not be there for long. I wanted it out and about and that's for certain. It was sacrilege to keep such a beautiful instrument pent up for so long.

"It shows too" I said. There is just something about a Frenchmen that spells sex appeal and romance...

"You say the nicest things. Do you know something? I am really falling for you Janice" he whispered with that tinge of French in his accent and I was all of a tither once more.

As we drove home to my abode I felt he could have just stopped, pulled up and do anything he wanted with me. I was delirious for his fuck, after enjoying another sample of his magnificence. I still had the taste of him in my throat and was imagining just how it would be slipped nicely into me. For me now, that was the ultimate, I wanted also to show him just what it is like to be with a real woman who could just let herself go and indulge in the wonderful god given cause of life, when two people join to create something that can never be perfectly described. I shuffle in my seat as his left hand touches my thigh softly and generously, parting my legs to encourage him to go further, because that is what I would like, simply his warm touch there to stimulate the passion inside me. He does, with a little prompting from my hand, and his touch is divine and already I am moist for him.

He pulls in again, sighs and looks at me dauntingly, "we really should save this until we get home" he whispered but nevertheless, pulls up my skirt and goes down to me. I cover his face with my skirt and feel the warmth of his mouth explore me. It is divine just to relax and feel his presence there in my most private parts.

I need for him to mouth fuck me and he does, he reaches a point of no return and I would seriously scream if he stopped now. The building up was immense as he went to it mouth and tongue and I was his for the taking. I yearned for his fuck proper but was happy to enjoy the prelim and then the orgasm came and I was almost suffocating him, squeezing his head between my thighs to receive the maximum pressure over my palpitating pussy. He began to struggle and I knew then I had to release him from my clutches. His face was red and wet and he was severely out of breath as I licked the residue from his face and touched him there once again, like I could never resist it, even though it was just the feel of its exuberance beneath his chinos.

"We really should get home, this is getting serious, and I am boiling over for you. I want you like I have never wanted anyone," he said, releasing the gear stick and setting off again, my hand still rummaging there, so looking forward to his first fuck of me. I must have squeezed him all the way home, enjoying the rapturous feel of him.

"Just another little taste" I whispered, as you drive and he let me unzip him once more and indulge.

No wonder the girls at the swingers club adored him. With a presence so yielding and wanting it would be hard to resist. But I wanted to show him how this girl could do it with love, because that is how it was right then, as I moved to take him deep. With that and the vibration of the car traveling at speed it was a completely different ball game to before, it was lovely and the sensation made me moist again. All I wanted then was the feel of his fuck inside me. But we were almost home when I regained my senses, having been in a frenzied sub-conscious state.

Now at last we could really let go, no inhibitions, no others to disturb us from that something so very special. It was that we seemed just to dive in through the door and lurch up the stairs to my bedroom where our true needs could at last be fully gratified.

His gear was removed just as quickly as mine, except for my stockings and panties, which he wanted me to keep on, and there he was, my perfect Adonis ready for action.

The next hour we were transported to our heaven on earth and we were complete. We indulged in a lot of things I never did with Peter and his presence was like electric, he was like an animal playing with its prey; and I loved that. And all the time his erection was full and his balls ripe and wonderfully cuddlesome, he was being all cock for me, the same as I was being all pussy for him and we were as one, enjoying the flavour of the fruits in prime condition given the spark of deep passion.

I lavished in our sex. If it hadn't been for meeting Jason I would never have known what it is really like to be with a real man, a guy who knew how women like me ticked, he certainly ticked all my boxes, I guess in having to please so many sex starved women in his occupation as a male stripper gave him all the experience he shows with me, I love to feel him pamper me, he massages me with coconut oil until my skin is supple and yielding. He is so wonderfully romantic too; his kisses are warm and explore my whole being. Like my lust, my love for him grows and grows and I return his oral overtures with some of my own, taking him over and under and sideways too, head to toe with his raised stiffness up and ready between, I watch it jerk as I tease his p-hole gently with the tip of my tongue, I cradle his so warm and firm balls as the touch of tongue and cock develops, and I draw him in nice and strong and deep. Then with his mouth spoiling mine I hear his moans as I suck, stretching back to expose his glans and enjoying the taste of the man in my mouth, the feel of his firm girth and the soothing feel of his balls.




The Woman After Midnight



He takes my nipples, one by one, teases with his fingertips and I feel the warmth of his mouth suckle them.

"You are brilliant, baby" he whispers. He calls me that for the first time. I feel good and devoted to him. I take his cock deep throat and feel it slide into my throat. It is like I want to swallow him whole, that so superb sheath of ripe throbbing cock which has to be meant for me - all the women in the world could never suck him like I am, and he whispers and tells me. I can hold my breath for six minutes so I feel him lodged there so warm and snug as now, he continues to work his mouth and tongue into my circumference, teasing and nibbling my pussy lips and gently rimming my anus, another thing that Peter never does and yet it feels so good in this mode. He whispers he enjoys anal occasionally and perhaps? I release his cock and say yes. I want anything he can give to me and then we stop the oral and he straddles over me, rubbing his cock between my breasts and I feel my nipples stiffen.

I grab his masterpiece and guide the p-hole to my nipple, I tease it around and around and pull his foreskin over like a duvet and feel the sensation of cock to tit. That's what he mumbles and says it is now the other's turn and he does the same with that. He is lovely, his stiff cock so warm and perfect, I rub him some and we enjoy the motion of tit to cock as he soon pre-cums and a small nodule of white cream tops my left tit like a snow cap on a mountain top.

I frig him up some more and taste the remnants of his residue glistening on his glans. Licking it gratefully and we move to fuck. Now his cock is delving and moving around and around setting me up for the big deal. 

He tells me he wants to fuck me deep and I like that.

"I need your fuck" I reply and that is an understatement. All my body is geared to that. If he didn't do it now I feel I would go berserk, I had yeaned for this moment ever since I first tasted him in the club. Never imagining it could ever happen, but now it was, here and now and all at once I felt his bulk squeeze inside, stretching and wallowing like a big whale. This was cock with a vengeance, he was fucking me masterfully which was divine, I perched up my bum and straggled his back, digging me heels into his flesh as he began to thrust and thrust and thrust until I was sent to another place.

I heard him yell each time he thrust into me deeper and deeper until I felt he was piercing me right through. Now I was experiencing just how deeply stimulating` and wonderful having sex with Jason was, the image of his masculinity in my mind. It was glorious and I never wanted it to end.

But came the moment when we both simultaneously climaxed and his vocal sounds said it all, Ii was well fucked and then we collapsed on the bed. I felt his hand in mine. I felt so complete and at peace with the world like never before.

Now with Peter I knew that would be it for a day or too. And somehow I felt I was never fully gratified. For one thing his fucks were short and sweet and, although his kisses were divine and his tantalising slaps on my rear were appealing because the masterful approach arouse me, the comparison between him and Jason was so far apart and somehow Jason was more romantic too. I discovered although he could be masterful and vocally basic in Anglo Saxon terms he still managed to be romantic and that was so very much appealing and lovely.

Come morning, I never imagined that within the course of a half hour, after I'd fixed him a coffee and a bite, and after he'd teased me about walking bandy and was that the effect he had on me, he leaned back on the edge of the kitchen table quite stark naked and showed me his new growth.

This was truly a bonus and the dryness in my mouth, now resolved with a large coffee, enticed me to want him orally again. He looked so handsome and appealing, he sort of opened his beautifully sculptured thighs just enough to reveal his balls hanging over the edge and chuckled saying that felt funny. But it looked good to me. I ventured to place my fingers underneath his balls so as to lift them and in so doing it was a pleasure to watch his erection rise too. I played with it awhile whilst watching the lust in his eyes,

"That is gorgeous baby, I love it" he whispered

"And would you love this too?" I said going down to him again, pleasuring him with my mouth and tongue and just a little gentle nibbling too.

His rapturous sounds said he did and I was in my heaven again, cock in mouth, balls in hand and gently massaging on both counts. I was determined to pleasure him much more than ever those woman at the club and he said that the difference was that he loved me and that said it all.

I ventured to suck him again until he was there; I wanted to see him spurt for me. But he said he needed to hold on, that I could do that later, that I could still have oral with him, but not before he had ringed himself. And then I understood what he meant and I was quite happy with that. And anyway, having his cock like that led me to all sorts of wild imaginings which I hoped we could indulge in sometime.

Having him in handcuffs and pretending to take him against his will and vice versa. All food for thought and the idea of role play was very appealing. But now I was enjoying him in my throat again and ravishing him like I wanted to eat him all up.

Later we dressed and after tea he asked to see the garden because it was part of me, it was what I liked and he wanted to share that with me which I thought was so nice.

We strolled through the conservatory into the larger than average garden with which I was very proud. It was good to see Jason taking an enthusiastic interest in anything I did. I led the way, pausing occasionally to take in the herbaceous border and the rockery as I took the steps leading up to the rose garden.

For once the garden was taking second place. Even the beauty and grace of my finest Elizabethan rose could not compete with gorgeous Jason his blue summer chino's snugly complimented his figure and the fashioned silk open chested white shirt did everything for him, a real hunk was and no mistake, the slight movement of his hips and a sneak glimpse of his bread basket did everything for his trim shapely thighs.

I realised how good he looked in tight jeans: no other guy could match him. That tight bum filled them perfectly, the centre seam neatly separating those tempting mounds leading down to his well-proportioned inner thighs. I wanted badly to explore the terrain again but first things first; "A blue rose, Jason. It is my favourite rose of all time." 

I was away in my own little world but the lust was still there. Somehow I'd sunk into a perfect day- dream, imagining the rose petals falling over me.

"Janice" -Jason raised his pitch now. "It is not quite blue?"

I came out of the trance and apologised.

"Well, not quite a blue rose Jason but it's quite close. It's called Blue Moon."

"Blue Moon. Hmm... I like it, it sort of goes with our loving, lots of shades of blue." he said.

His eyes were wide, searching mine. I hoped he meant our torrid times together .He turned facing me and I took in the creases in the lap of his chino's which gave out a certain eroticism, the way they stretched across the breadth of his chino's then disappearing around his thighs. Hell! How I want him again

We spent an hour in the garden; I was intent in talking about every flower and shrub. The time seemed to drag and I wondered if he knew how frustrated I was. Was he just teasing when he insisted on learning every detail about a given plant? He said earlier she'd get the best out of me after teasing. I was like his dog on a lead, my thoughts not his. I conjured up the picture in my mind of a dog stalking a bitch in heat, catching the scent. How lucky a dog is, imagine the human species doing that in public - every time he wanted to make it.

Then we entered the greenhouse. My turn to tease now; 

"See the Cucumbers, Jason. Aren't they huge"? 

I opened the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and felt the breadth of the best in the house, then gently slid my fingers down the hanging vegetable to the stalk: "Quality there without a doubt, Jason."

He was looking down to where his prize specimen resided, then at the cucumber. I could see he was competing with the vegetable. That's sad. The cucumber was large. Who says size doesn't matter? It does with me and that's the truth. There is something so very thrilling playing with a good manful of unadulterated penis. But Jason needn't worry. After all, he attracted a good audience at the club so he had nothing to feel insecure about when it came to size and quality. 

He still looked beautiful with a new growing bundle- full of bountiful masculine charm.

There I was again, in my own little world of fantasy. Macho woman! In just seeing Jason rise again I was sexually preoccupied. 

"Strange about cucumbers, this variety anyway," I said

"Hmm...Tell me more, Janice?"

He was teasing, he had to be!

"Well, see this little brush," I said taking it from its hook, "one has to pollinate each plant before it will bear fruit. Watch me, look, there are some flowers already opening on these two."

I carefully brushed the centres of the opened flowers on one plant and then did the same with the other, transferring the pollen from one to the other and vice versa.

But he wasn't looking at the cucumbers any more, his head lifted slightly and his eyes found mine. The smile had gone; there was a certain blush in the cheeks and that staring look in his eyes. I just knew he was going to plant one of those unforgettable kisses on me. Our lips met and for a few moments I was in another place. Heaven comes to mind.

Ah! There was heaven again. How long I'd been without it. Nobody could kiss like Jason did. As his mouth moulded to mine so his hand seemed to slip from the staging, I heard small pebbles tumble onto the paved floor and his hand came to rest limply but provocatively near my pussy. Whether intentional or not I couldn't say, but when we finished the kiss and he stood back, his hand wasn't quick to slip away. He simply looked down, then up again and the sweet smile was back.

"Sorry, I seemed to have dislodged a flower pot or two," was all he said.

He turned again and closely examined some small cacti plants on the shelf above the rear of the staging. To do this he needed to lean across the waist high staging in order to remove and replace each pot. I stood back taking the opportunity to admire the curve of that magnificent rear

"Look at this one!" Jason urged. He held a large pear shaped prickly cactus with a deep yellow flower sprouting on its summit. I bet you wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of that," he chuckled. 

He'd just kissed me passionately. Surely it was time for the follow on. And by the way, there's nothing cool about a cucumber, not with Jason around anyway.

I couldn't resist the temptation any longer. I closed behind him. He was five inches taller than I and we nestled perfectly together, every crook and cranny nudged into place like a jig-saw and the soothing aura of his warm body making me feel so good.

Clasping my hands around his waist it was as if our bodies merged. This body belonged I had hold of It was part of me to do as I wished. As he leant over the staging once more, I gently pulled him firmly to me.

I let my hands drop to the place I loved to touch and feel. Touching him from the back was something new and very thrilling. I heard the certain sound he made in the throat, a sound which heralded the start of our loving.

I was mistaken. I just stood there rigidly because he did not respond. He was still nattering on about the cacti plants I had once loved but now hated. As if he took my actions to be quite normal and expected - but not, unfortunately, a 'let's get started' signal.

He just had to be teasing. His quintessential was fully erect and ready that's for sure

But when he started wiggling his bottom the lust bug was taking over again. I felt everything between us was okay. Go for it...My hands found the curve of his primed cock firm and the warmth of his supple balls, and were soon .smothering them, he was a delight. I wanted to get inside his chinos, to explore the wonderful joys of masculinity beneath; I would do everything he wanted. Not the selfish lover but he complete lover. I wanted him completely, every little inch of his rapturous body, his very soul.

Of course, that how he wants me to be. My confidence was building now. Time to get the ball rolling...

"Let's get back inside, darling," I ventured. My throat was dry in anticipation of what laid ahead. And low and behold I was calling him darling!

"Oh! Just as I was enjoying it out here," he quipped.

Did he want it out there in the greenhouse, across the staging? My mind was galloping but slowed to a cantor and then a trot when he said:

"You've worked wonders with the garden, Janice. Let us just chill out for a while. I want inhale the innumerable perfumes out here, the garden is out of this world. We could picnic in the garden - or a barbecue perhaps? I've got all the afternoon, there's no hurry. It has been a long time. There are lots to talk about."

He was winding me up, of course he was. My heart was pounding. I felt angry now. His eyes were glancing mischievously across mine. I'd massaged and played with him enough, I thought he would be well ready now. He must know what I'm going through.

But I needed to control myself. I needed to show him I was not fazed by his stupid antics. 

My mind worked it out: "hold on, don't jump to conclusions." As far as Jason is concerned, urgency isn't the keynote. If that's the game he wanted play so be it. Two can play. I shall get my own back later and that's for sure. I thought it was women who can somehow put sexual feelings into a box ready to be opened later. Then again I was thinking of his work, he needed to hold on to maintain his sexual stance didn't he? Of course that would be the reason. "Go along with him, you can be strong too."

I made some sandwiches, it was no mean task attempting to steer my mind from thoughts of beautiful divine sex with Jason. I really needed a cold shower right now; I couldn't bother with the barbecue, I always I had a problem getting the charcoal going. Sandwiches and tea were quicker. The sooner we got the eating over the sooner we could get down to the real business.

I returned to the garden armed with a tray and refreshment. Jason had found himself a fold- down chair. He'd found one for me too and a small plastic garden table would separate us. I was thinking; I bet that was deliberate. But I was concentrating on the guy sitting there close to me.

Did he know what he was doing to me? 

Putting down the tray on the table I was thinking I was ready to be his servant, to do whatever he wanted of me. He had complete control over my being. He was a whole lot of man and he was here for the taking - but how? 

I'd felt his closeness, touched his sex, savoured his kiss and inhaled his scent. I was inwardly crying out for him, aching to get beneath his chinos, feel his hands groping the small of my back, easing me to him as I pursued riding our souls into absolute oblivion.

He sampled a sandwich:

He chewed into it and looked thoughtful: "That's what you need, Jason" I said. I do believe now that Peter doesn't fit the part, he never did, but I didn't know it at the time. Then I never knew what I wanted anyway. But I know now.

"I'm not taking you for granted," I said. "Don't think I'm trying it on. Well I am I know that but you know what I mean." 

I immediately read his disappointed expression:

"Don't get me wrong, Jason I didn't mean...well to be honest I don't know what I really mean but it has been a time, with Peter gallivanting abroad and so on."

I had to get things straight. What was left of the sandwiches and the coffee cups went flying as I pushed the table aside, grabbed, and kissed him. Automatically my hands slipped down, groping him wildly there, pulling his body onto mine. His head jerked backwards and my mouth did things with his neck. But still he did not respond. His arms hung limply. He wasn't having any. The bastard! I was that frustrated and pissed off 

"Steady on you Wally," my mind yelled. "This is the guy you are hoping to keep". My mind knew best. Only my lusty feelings prompted aggressive thoughts.

He looked me straight in the eyes.

"Do you love me, Jason?" I had to know if there was anything, anything at all.

"Isn't that Bloody obvious" he said assertively, "don't say you haven't noticed?"

"That you want to make it with me, Jason? That is obvious and I am flattered - but I mean as an item. You know as well as me; most guys have fantasies about having a girl that take their fancy. I've learnt that lesson many times. I'm done with being a substitute for a mere fantasy. I'm talking about loving here, Jason. So why on earth do you hold back? You must realise I am completely yours for the taking. So far, so good and it has been wonderful. Or are you just a great big tease and that is your thing?"

"But you love Peter." He reminded me.

"That's precisely what I'm on about, Jason I thought I loved him, he thought and probably still thinks he loves me but now I know it was our obsession with lust that drew us together- we didn't have a lot more in common - apart from his profession, but, when the novelty wore off there wasn't enough to keep us together. It was hard to admit but there comes a time when we need to be honest with each other. Okay, the sex was good while it lasted and I won't deny that, but everything else stunk. End of story.

"I want you," I continued after a pause, "I cannot say how I ache for you. But sex alone isn't enough. This time I have to be sure Jason you see. It's got to be complete. Do you understand?"

"I've grown up a bit since I met you," Jason said looking quite serious now. "Maybe you won't believe that because of what I do, but it is just a job. I've said it before I know but I don't need to do anything except - to be blunt, - raise the necessary to keep them happy and that just becomes like a habit. I had a couple of girlfriends but nothing serious."

At last he seemed to chill and come close to me. This was love big time I knew that. Would he continue to tease me until I was a frantic or would a wholesome French kiss alert his magnificent male hood?

I stood there touching him as I allowed my arms to encircle him; with him being a few inches taller than me I needed to lift up on my heels to kiss him the way I wanted.

He responded well. We were both live wires and I felt an instant response pressing ardently into my skirt. No more teasing now this was going to be the real thing. I slipped down to my knees again, I wanted a lot more of that which I had initially with him at the club, but now I still had him to myself. No more taking turns and sharing with others. I took advantage of that.

I simply adored his warmth. I said that if and when we lived together, I would want to do this each morning when he awoke. It would be something of an achievement to feel him grow in my mouth each morning. I would dearly love that and I told him so. It would not be quick and rushed like the girls did it at the club, including myself I guess, we were all eager to get our fill and maintain that image and sensation until we were able to enjoy later, alone in our beds or wherever.

Jason was a beautiful guy but even as I sucked him at the club I was thinking this was just not good enough for a bloke like him, he deserved much more - not just the sex but all that goes with it, I could give him that kept going through my mind as I felt him throb lightly, my tongue doing a roly-poly around his appendage. 




The Woman Appeared In His Bed



Grouk sniffed the air and smiled. She was back. He made a bee-line through the orc encampment and entered his tent. The human woman looked up at him. She was laying naked on his bed mat.

"May I have your seed?" She smiled.

Grouk was already taking off his armor. A buldge was appearing in his loincloth.

His voice rumbled from his muscled chest "I always give it to you." He tossed his loincloth aside and lowered himself atop her. He kissed from her navel to her neck. He looked at the faded bite marks on her shoulder. They were healing well. It was clear that they were his marks. There were bigger and deeper punctures where the tusk-like canines of his lower jaw broke the flesh.

He grunted and bucked slightly as a jolt of pleasure shot through him. His human was caressing his cockhead.

"Impatient bitch." He growled lovingly into her ear as she guided his manhood to her entrance. A growling purr reverberated through him as her small human hands rubbed his cockhead against the wet lips of her pussy. So warm, so slick, the sensations, as his cock lined-up to her hole then moved up to put pressure on her hard clit. He waited for his chance then thrusted forward suddenly and skillfully burrowed only his swollen head into her. She moaned happily beneath him. A jolt of lust shot through him. That damn moan was so sexy. It would be easy to lose control, take her like a slut and spend himself in her.

Shit, his cock throbbed at the thought of it. He fought and kept control. He wanted to go slow and enjoy every second. She reappeared often enough but any fuck might be his last with her. He could die in battle or she might never return.

His thoughts disappeared as her mouth met his. Those soft lips then her hot tongue seeking entrance into his maw. He obliged, letting her explore as he began working into her tight pussy. With each thrust he went just a little deeper. His cockhead was in heaven, a tight pussy that never ended. Soon enough he did find her womb. His ground into that slick barrier making her mouth part from his as she moaned in pleasure. 

He grinned and looked down. His cock was two thirds inside. Good, he could work with that. He continued pumping in and out of her at that depth. He turned his attention to her face. Her eyes were warm and full of lust. She had a blush of pleasure on her cheeks.

She moan happily then spoke "What's wrong," a muffled moan broke through as he thrusted "my Grouk?"

"Nothin' just enjoying the view." He winked.

She laughed and pulled him into a kiss. Her fine human features against the face of an orc. High cheek bones, small eyes and tusks upon a large green face.

The human pull away from his black lips "Come on. Fuck me like an orc."

He speed-up his thrusts without going deeper "Those are dangerous words, little human."

She closed her eyes as her body trembled with pleasure. "Make me regret them." She moaned.

Grouk grinned and grabbed her hips with his coarse hands. He held her hips at an angle and started stuffing more cock into her with each thrust.

She moaned loudly and tossed her head back. He moved a large thumb to that slick clit. He began pushing and circling around it. She gave a short scream of pleasure as her hands gripped the mat.

Grouk felt another jolt of pleasure. Fuck yes. His favorite way to have a woman screaming in his arms. Her scent, the smell of a woman in heat, was heady now. Filling the tent making him high on lust. His eyes glazed over and the slapping of his ball on her ass became frantic.

"I'm so," she moaned "close... Fuck me. Fuck me, Grouk."

Without thinking his mouth moved to her shoulder. He could feel her hot tunnel tightening around him. Grouk began grunting with each thrust. His balls were tightening. There was a tingling was in his orc-ish cock. He was almost there.

Her hands moved to his back. She clung to him as he pushed her over the brink. "Fuuck. Grouk!" her pussy spasmed around him. So tight, so hot, so wet. He grunted and growled as his grip tightened on her hips. The pressure in his balls, his rock hard tingling cock, her moans. 

"Fuck!" he roared before slamming into her and biting her shoulder. His whole cock was in her womanhood. No room between her cervix and his head as he spurted into her. Thick orc cum erupted into her, he held her so close she could feel his balls throb as his cock pumped into her.

They froze there, panting as their climaxes subsided. After a time, Grouk moved into a sitting position bringing her with him before flopping backward onto the bed with her on his chest. He grinned and stroked her hair, enjoying the warmth of his cock still inside her.

Grouk woke sometime in the night. The human had vanished. If not for the smell of her musk he would have though it all a dream.

He slowly rose to his feet and began to wonder how long it took humans to get pregnant. He had been seeing her three months now and she showed no signs of pregnancy. He smiled, he needed to work harder.



The Woman at Stable Cottages



The cold north wind howled across the “Paradise Valley Airport” as the locals ironically called it. It is in fact a strip of bitumen just about capable of bearing the weight of a light aircraft, and a galvanised iron shed for people awaiting the arrival or departure of the occasional aircraft that does use the strip, to shelter in.

Earlier in the afternoon the wind had changed to the north and was therefore blowing over the snow capped mountains, the foothills of which began about eighteen kilometres to the north of the town of Paradise Valley. By mid-afternoon the temperature had dropped noticeably, especially on the open airstrip. I tugged the collar of my overcoat up round my ears. Damnation, why did I have to be the one to meet the old girl?

“Aden,” old Phineas had said that Monday morning, “would you go out to the airstrip? There’s a plane coming in with a Mrs.White on board. She’s the one who bought Stable Cottages. I’d like you to drive her out to the cottages and just see that she’s settled in all right. God knows why she’s coming in today. There’s no furniture in the places except an old kitchen table and a couple of chairs the last people to rent one of the cottages left behind.”

I vaguely recalled the transaction. Then I had only been working for about three months as a solicitor and accountant for “Phineas Willow, Solicitor and Property Agent,” but had no hand in the transaction. That was Phineas’s area of work.

I had had just completed qualifying as a solicitor and accountant, and was looking for a position when I met Phineas. He had advertised in one of the legal journals for a solicitor (“qualtions in accntncy advntge”) to work in his practice at Paradise Valley.

The advertisement went on, “Plsnt. Twn. pop. approx. 1 thou. Old est. pract. Outstd. op. yng man. Pos. Prtnship.” Then followed the address to be applied to. Phineas did not believe in wasting money on wordy advertisements.  

I applied, was interviewed, and got the job. Having said, “Phineas did not believe in wasting money,” I must add that the salary was very liberal. Phineas was a wily old law practitioner, but was also one of those people who saved every cent he could on small things so he could be generous in larger things. As I was to learn when I entered the practice with him, he did work for some of the poorer people in the town for what he called “A peppercorn fee.”

Now, having worked with Phineas for just over twelve months, I stood on the windswept airstrip waiting for the old girl that had to be transported to Stable Cottages. “Be nice to her,” Phineas had admonished, “She looks like she’s well-heeled, and there could be some future business there.”

I heard the buzzing of the aircraft before I saw it, then it appeared. It was single engine plane and as it circled to line up with the landing strip, it was clearly being buffeted by the wind. The pilot trying to steady the aircraft made an attempt to land, but at the last minute it was caught by the wind and tilted over so one wing almost scraped the ground. There was a roar as the engine was revved and the plane climbed to come round for another attempt. This time it made it, but only just.

The pilot taxied towards the shed and I went outside to meet it. It stopped, there was a pause before a door in the side of the plane slid back and steps were lowered. The pilot came down the steps and turned. A woman appeared at the top of the steps and the pilot held out his hand and helped her down. 

“Had a bit of a bumpy ride,” he called cheerfully, and went into the aircraft again. 

The woman was a surprise. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and why I had the impression I was to meet an older person, I don’t know. It might have been because we had a number of widows living in the town who had come here from Mine City some fifty kilometres from Paradise Valley, and I automatically assumed a woman on her own moving into the area would be a widow in her forties or fifties. 

At one time, a piece of machinery had been used in the mine that was so dangerous it was called, “The Widow Maker.” The women whose husbands had been killed by the abomination, used some of the compensation money paid by the mine company, to buy houses in Paradise Valley, firstly, because property tended to be cheaper than in Mine City, and secondly, because Paradise Valley is a very pleasant location.

The woman who stood white faced and shivering at the bottom of the steps was about five feet five inches tall, but at that moment, she looked smaller and rather vulnerable. I stepped forward to her extending my hand; “Mrs.White?” I asked. She nodded. “Aden Barclay of Phineas Willow. I’m to take you to Stable Cottages.”

Her hand was very small and cold in mine and she said, “Thank you, Mr.Barclay. I’ve some luggage to be unloaded.”

The pilot had started unloading suitcases, and as he brought them to the top of the steps, I took them and placed them on the ground. The last item was a canvas bag containing something I could not identify.

The last of the luggage unloaded, the pilot gave a wave and called, “See yer later.” The steps were pulled up, the door closed and after a few seconds the engine roared and the plane prepared to take off. We watched it wobble down the strip and take off for its unenviable wind battering flight back to Mine City from whence it had come. 

I said to the woman standing beside me, “If you like to wait in the shed, at least it’s out of the wind, I’ll get the car and pick up your luggage.” She nodded and entered the shed.

I drove the car onto the “airfield” which in fact was no more than an ordinary field, unfenced and with no one to guard the place. Any pilot landing here had no ground control to guide them in. It was a case of, “Enter at your own risk.”

I loaded the luggage, summoned Mrs.White, and we set off for Stable Cottages with the car heater going full blast.

Stable Cottages are about four kilometres outside the town of Paradise Valley. They have a rather strange history.

Back in the nineteenth century, world wool prices had at one stage gone very high. The owner of the sheep station on which the cottages stand had, based on those high wool prices, built a rather grandiose house. Along with this edifice, he had built large stables and two cottages to house stable hands. The cottages were semi-detached; that is, they shared a common “party wall.”

Eventually wool prices slumped and the then owner found the upkeep of the big house and it’s necessary staff, beyond his resources. Most of the staff were dismissed, the big house abandoned, and the owner moved into one of the cottages.

Many years later, after the Second World War, wool prices rocketed upward again. The owner at that time decided that he needed a residence more in keeping with his newly acquired wealth. By that time, the big house was badly decayed, and much of it had been plundered for materials to be used on other constructions around the property. The nouveau riche rural millionaire decided that a new residence was in order. It was built on a hill about two kilometres from the cottages. 

The cottages were let out to rent. In the following years many people came and went at the cottages, until finally, the current owner decided to sell them together with the stables, the remains of the old house and four hectares of land. All this had come to a tidy sum of money, hence old Phineas’s idea that the buyer must be well off financially.

There were questions I itched to ask Mrs.White as we drove to the cottages. Most of all, I wanted to ask what she intended to do with the place, but her demeanor did not invite questions. She seemed withdrawn, an isolated figure sitting beside me in the car, but somewhere else in her thoughts.

As we drove through the town, I asked if she needed to buy anything by way of food or other items. She simply replied, “No, thank you.”

She showed no interest in the passing scene as we drove in the gathering dusk, and simply stared straight ahead through the windscreen.

Arriving at the cottages, I asked which of the two she was going to occupy. Without a word, she pointed to one of them, and I opened the door, then gave her the keys to both cottages. Still without a word, she went inside, leaving me to bring in the luggage.

Having got her goods into the passage that ran the length of the cottage and terminating at a back door, I called out to her.

“In the kitchen,” she replied.

I found her contemplating an old wood fired cooking stove. There was an electric cooking stove, but the power and telephone were not due to be connected until the next day.

The place was bitterly cold, so I said, “Better light that wood stove. Warm the place up a bit.”

“Yes,” she replied, “but I don’t know how to. I’ve never had to light a fire in my life.”

“I’ll get it going,” I said, and headed out the back door to see what fuel I could find.

I found the spot where the logs were once stored and there were some still there. “At least enough for a couple of days,” I thought, and began to carry logs into the kitchen and pile them up beside the stove. I found some bark and a few dry sticks, and set about lighting the stove. Of course, the damned thing took and age to get going, but once properly alight and the fire door left open, it did cheer the room up a bit.

It was now almost dark, and of course, as there was no electricity, there was no electric light. Mrs.White had started to drag her luggage from the passage into the kitchen, and I asked her what she was going to do for lighting.

“Candles. Brought some with me,” she replied shortly. With that she opened one of the suitcases and produced the candles, which she then proceeded to light from the flames of the fire. I noticed that the suitcase also contained items of food.

The cottage was the one with the old table and chairs, and surveying these, another thought struck me. “Excuse my asking, Mrs.White, but where are you going to sleep tonight? There’s no bed or blankets here.”

“Camp bed. Brought one with me and some blankets. I’ll sleep in here.”

The canvas bag, the contents of which I had been unable to identify, was now shown to hold the camp bed. Mrs.White pulled the bed out and tried to assemble the bits and pieces, to no avail. I decided to play the Boy Scout, and offered to do it for her. She nodded, and I managed to save my male ego by getting the thing put together in one attempt.

I was reluctant to leave her alone in the bleak and empty cottage, then another thought occurred me; I had brought her to the cottage and she obviously had no transport of her own.

“Mrs.White, you’re four kilometres out of town, how are you going to get around without a car?

“I have one being delivered tomorrow from Mine City.” Then as if to forestall a further question, she went on, “My furniture arrives by road tomorrow as well.”

I was rather impressed that her vehicle was being “delivered” to her. Normally one simply went to the show room to pick it up. To have it delivered indicated something rather special, but I couldn’t think what. 

Her manner seemed indicate that no further questions were in order and that it was time for me to leave.

I gave her my card, bade her goodnight, and made to leave. 

“I shall call in at your office before the end of the week to settle up with Mr.Willow,” she said. “I may need your services in the future, so we can discuss it then. Thank you for your help, Mr.Barclay.” 

We shook hands. The kitchen had now warmed up, and she had removed her coat and stood before me in a light woolen sweater. It was then that I noticed where her rather large breasts pushed against the cloth there were two small stains that looked as if they were spreading. I also noticed a slight sour smell that seemed to emanate from her.  

I took my leave, a rather puzzled man.

The following days I felt worried about Mrs.White. It troubled me that she was out there alone, having to tackle the task of getting her house in order, so to speak. I was tempted to go out and see if she was all right, or at least telephone; always assuming her telephone had been connected. I set aside both these thoughts as I recalled her rather distant manner that did not invite interference.

It was in the early afternoon of Thursday of that week when Phineas put his head round the door of my office.

“Got Mrs.White with me. She came to settle up our business, but she wants us to take on other work for her that’s more in your line. Got time to see her?”

I was rather busy, but my inquisitiveness about Mrs.White got the better of me, so I said, “Certainly, bring her in.”

Phineas disappeared to reappear with Mrs.White, leaving her, as he said to me, “In your care.”

I invited her to sit, and for the first time, as we were neither out in the cold or semi-darkness, I was able to observe her more closely. She was very pale with a drained look about her, but behind this, there seemed to lurk considerable beauty. 

She had classical features and long dark hair that was tied back to give her a severe appearance. The feature that stood out was her dark eyes. Despite their tired look they had the promise of lustrous depths – eyes that when turned upon you, made it difficult to lie or deceive.

As she was sitting, I could not judge her figure properly, although later, when she rose to leave, I saw a slender figure with disproportionately large breasts. These appeared to hang heavily and looked as if they were a burden to her. 

“What can I do for you, Mrs.White?”

“I would like to put my financial affairs into your care, Mr.Barclay. At present I have an accountant in the metropolis, but I want someone nearer at hand. If I arrange to have my records transferred to you, would you be willing to take them over?”

“Of course, Mrs.White. Could you give me some idea of what this would entail?”

“Two main things. I have several investments and of course, the normal general running and domestic accounts. In addition, I shall be starting a business – possibly two businesses – I shall want these together with my taxation looked after. I would appreciate your advice from time to time, as well.”

“I should be happy to help in any way I can. May I ask what sort of businesses you intend to engage in?” I could not imagine what business could be started in Paradise Valley that was not already well catered for.

“A horse riding stable and interior decorating.”

I had to struggle not to laugh and keep a straight face. Apart from the incongruity of two such businesses, I could not imagine the residents of our town storming out to the cottages to ride horses or being in any hurry to have their interiors decorated.

Those eyes of hers must have read my thoughts.
“You don’t think I shall succeed, Mr.Barclay? Perhaps I will surprise you.”

“I sincerely hope so, Mrs.White.” 

“Very well, I shall arrange to have my accounts transferred to you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Mrs.White.”

“There is one other thing you might be able to help me with. I shall need some female help to start with. I want someone who is good with children. Is there anyone you could recommend?”

“I’m afraid I’m not very conversant with that sort of thing, Mrs.White, but Mr.Willow is very well acquainted with the people of the town, suppose I ask him, and let you know. What age are the children?”

“They are three month old twins. They are with my parents at the moment.” Her hands involuntarily moved towards her breasts. “They’ll be joining me in a fortnight.”

It was then I realised. “She’s breast feeding babies. She must be expressing her milk, that’s why she looks so uncomfortable with her breasts.” This thought only added to the puzzlement I had about this woman. Why had she come to Paradise Valley? And why the cottages?

She rose to leave, so I escorted her to the street, and watched as she got into the vehicle that had been “delivered.”

It was an absolutely top of the arrange four wheel drive. My battered Datsun parked beside it seemed to cringe away from this lordly conveyance. I waved a farewell to her and thought, “My God that must have cost her a packet.” 

I spoke with Phineas about a suitable woman to help Mrs.White, and he came up with the name of a fifty five-year-old widow named Mrs.Emily Carter.

“Very good type. Motherly but not the fussing interfering sort, could probably do with the extra money.”

I rang Mrs.White and asked if she would like me to approach Mrs.Carter and arrange for them to meet. She readily agreed to this.

When I met Mrs.Carter, Phineas’s assessment was confirmed. Plump and capable looking, she combined a caring with an “I’ll stand no nonsense” nature. I made the arrangement for the two women to meet and left it at that. Little did I know then what a significant role Mrs.Carter was to play in my life.

Just over a week later, Mrs.White’s records arrived from her city accountant. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I had realised that Mrs.White had a considerable sum of money tied up in the cottages, stables and land, but beyond that, I had thought that a few thousand dollars would be about all she had. Her records revealed that after all the expenditure on the property, her new vehicle, furniture and other equipment she had investments and readily available money to the tune of a million and half-dollars. 

Looking over her investments, I came to the conclusion they were all well placed and returning adequate, if not large, dividends. “Someone’s given her sound advice,” I thought.

I rang her to let her known that I had received her accounts, and got an invitation to pay a visit to the cottages, as she needed some further advice. Our clients usually came to see us at the office, but my curiosity and puzzlement over this woman led me accept the request. It was arranged for the following Saturday afternoon. 

Without knowing quite why, I felt a tingle of excitement as I drove up to the cottages.

Mrs.White welcomed me with a handshake and a smile. It would not be true to say that she looked radiant, but her pallor had diminished, and instead of giving the impression I was a necessary nuisance, she actually seemed pleased to see me.

Inviting me into the cottage she said, “The place is still a mess, and will be for some time I think. You’ll understand why shortly.”

On entering it was obvious little had been done to arrange the furniture but from what I could see, most of it was not new, but was clearly very tasteful and, my accountant’s mind coming into play, expensive. 

In that way she had, she seemed to read my thoughts. “I bought most of it secondhand – well, a lot of the pieces are antique, I think they’re rather lovely.”

I had to agree, and I could see how excellently the pieces would fit into the cottage. Yes, the woman certainly had excellent taste.

I was conducted into the kitchen that turned out to be the one room in which everything was gleaming and in order.

Although the electricity had been connected on the second day of her arrival, so all the electrical appliances, including the cooking stove, were working, a fire was burning in the old wood fueled cooking stove.

The rickety table and chairs left behind by previous tenants had gone, to be replaced by a large scrubbed white deal table and four cottage dining chairs.

Invited to sit, I was asked whether I would like tea or coffee.

“Tea, please.”

While Mrs.White set about the tea making, she began to explain why she had asked me to visit.

“I’m going to make the two cottages into one. I’d like an archway built in the party wall. I also want a number of other renovations done. I’ll show you after we’ve had our tea. By the way, were their any problems with my accounts?”

Over our cups of tea I asked her a few questions about her investments and which bank she wished to use in the town. That settled and our tea drunk, I was taken on a tour of both cottages.




The Woman at Stable Cottages



I was shown where the archway was to go, and which rooms were to be used for what purpose. The end product would amount to a four-bedroom house with lounge, kitchen, bathroom, toilet and what she referred to as “The Play Room.”

I was then taken outside and we inspected the stables. Her gleaming vehicle lived in one of them. They were in a state of neglect but not beyond redemption. 

“I shall want to have these put in good order,” she said, “ready for the horses when I buy them.”

I was beginning to wonder why she had asked me to come and listen to her intended alterations when she said, “I feel as if I can trust your advice. Could you recommend a builder who would make a good job of it?”   

Building was a bit out of my province, but I was serving as accountant to our one local builder, George Gardener. I had heard good reports about his work, so I suggested that Mrs.White ask him for an estimate, while approaching a couple of other builders in Mine City.

“If you would like me to make the initial contacts for you, Mrs.White, I’d be happy to do that.”

“If you would, I’d be very grateful.  The babies are arriving in three of days, and Emily starts on Monday, so I could be fairly occupied. By the way, I think Mrs.White is a bit unnecessary now, so why not Kym?”

I smiled. “Aden,” I responded. “I’ll get the builders to come out as soon as possible. I suggest that you put on paper as many details of the work to be done as you can.”

“I’ll do that, Aden,” she said. 

In the warmth of the kitchen, she wore only a blouse, and I began to notice the little stains appearing again where her swollen breasts pushed against the cloth. I think she must have noticed my glance for she said, “Excuse me for a few minutes, Aden, but don’t go, I’ve got something else to ask you.”

She left me to contemplate the kitchen while, I assumed, she relieved herself of the milk burden.

I wondered again what had brought her to Paradise Valley. Her children were with her parents, but where was Mr.White? With the money she had, Kym could have chosen far less isolated places than the cottages, and why the strange combination of a horse riding stables and interior decorating?

Kym was now treating me more as a friend than her accountant; in fact, I was wondering how I could possibly charge her for the time I was spending with her. I considered whether our relationship had advanced far enough for me to ask some of my questions, but decided against it. If I was involved in a blossoming friendship, I didn’t want to spoil it by stepping over the bounds into her private concerns. If ever she wanted to tell me, she no doubt would.

Kym returned and to a bachelor unversed in such matters, I thought her breasts looked more comfortable, and she had changed her blouse.

It was now fairly late in the afternoon, so I said, “You wanted to ask me something else?”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind a personal question, but are you married or anything?”

I laughed, “No I’m not married or anything, why?” 

For the first time in our acquaintanceship, she looked a little shy.

“I’d like to ask you to stay for dinner, but I didn’t want to get into trouble with a wife or partner. I’ve been more or less on my own since I arrived, and I’d like a bit of company.”

I laughed again. “You won’t get into any trouble with a wife or partner, and if you care to invite me, I’d be happy to stay. If I go home I have to cook my own meal or go to the pub and eat, but I do have to be somewhere at eight o’clock.

I did not tell her where I had to be at eight o’clock, but I had a little arrangement with my comfort lady in the town, an older woman, who helped me with my emotional problems once a week. It was no love affair, but two people who liked each other and served a need we both had. Actually, the affair had begun when I helped her out with her income tax forms, and she chose to show me her gratitude. I believe she showed her gratitude to a couple of other young men in the town, but made sure none of our appointments with her clashed.

So I stayed and had dinner with Kym. She was beginning to peep out from behind the reserve that had been present when I first met her. Over the meal, we discussed neutral subjects like the sort of music and books we liked, what painters we admired, and in this latter field, she proved very knowledgeable.

“I trained as an interior decorator,” she said, “and a knowledge of art is almost essential if you are going to do the job properly.”

That answered one of my unasked questions, so I boldly followed up with, “Do you expect to get much work in that line here?”

“Not in Paradise Valley itself, but in the mountains. You must have noticed that quite a lot of well off young couples are building or buying quite sizeable “shacks” as they call them, up there. There’s the lake for boating and swimming, the streams for trout fishing, wonderful walks and glorious views. They’re the sort of people who like to show off their wealth, and I think I might be just the person they need. In fact, I’ve already got a tentative client – someone I knew before…before I came here. If I do a good job, I’m hoping others will follow.”

I suppose I should have been aware of what was happening in the mountains, but as most of the people with “shacks” up there came and went intermittently, none of their legal or accountancy business came our way, so I just hadn’t noticed.  

I glanced at my watch. It was approaching the time for the rendezvous with my comfort lady, so I rose, thanked Kym for the meal and bade her goodnight.

She accompanied me to the door saying, “Thanks for your company, Aden, I’ve really enjoyed having you here. I was just wondering, would you like to come and see my babies and meet my parents next week?” 

It had been a pleasant time with Kym, but my interest in babies was minimal, and as for meeting her parents, I couldn’t really see the point. However so as not to stall the budding friendship, I agreed to pay a visit on the following Wednesday, which was the day after their arrival. I was to have lunch with them.

As I drove away I thought, “Friendship with Kym was all very nice, but how was I supposed to get on with my work when I’m out paying social calls with her in the middle of the day? Phineas might not be too happy about my absence from the office during working hours.” I decided to have a chat with the old fellow.

I told him of my semi-social Saturday call on Kym, and asked how we were to charge her, and what did he feel about my visiting her on Wednesday.

“Stayed to dinner did you? Damned well done, my boy damned well done. Been living and working in this town nearly forty years, always made a point of getting to know the people. Got heaps of friends and as you can see, plenty of business as a result. Get their trust, my boy, get their trust. Let ‘em get to know you. If you’re going become a partner and eventually take over the business, you need to know your people and them you.”

At my initial interview with him, Phineas had suggested an eventual partnership, but it not having been mentioned since, I had concluded that it had simply been a way of hooking me into taking the job. His mentioning it now made me feel quite elated. The old devil really did mean it.

Phineas, with a twinkle in his eyes, went on, “Get to know the lady. From what I can see, it shouldn’t prove much of a hardship, nice looking girl like her. Go out and see her kids and meet mummy and daddy, and never mind charging her, your salary won’t suffer.”

I left Phineas feeling partially elated and partially apprehensive. I recalled my father warning me, "Don’t go meeting the girl’s mother and father – very dangerous – never know what it might lead to. A young chap can be caught before he knows it. Next thing, it’s wedding bells and waking up next morning wondering, ‘What the hell have I done?’”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” I thought. “No wedding bells or other sorts of tie-ups while I can get what I need for no cost and no commitment. I’ll go out and meet the parents and see her kids, but no getting trapped.” 

Following that thought, instead of feeling pleased with myself, I felt a sense of shame. Kym had said or done nothing that indicated a relationship beyond a friendly business one. Why was I getting so defensive and suspicious? In any case, why would a woman in her position be interested in a small town solicitor/accountant? And where was Mr.White? Clearly, I was being ridiculous!

I contacted our local builder, George, and a couple of others in Mine City, all of whom promised to go out to the cottages in the following week. On Wednesday, I made my own way to the cottages, and as I drew up outside Kym emerged to greet me. 

This time I am afraid, I must use that overworked word “radiant” to describe her. Or perhaps “Sparkling” might be a better description. No matter, just say, she almost looked a different woman.

Her small hand in mine was no longer cold and the last of her reserve seemed to have fallen away from her.

“Come in and meet mummy and daddy, and look at my lovely babies,” she smiled.

For the first time I noticed what beautiful teeth, she had.

The furniture was still in disarray, and I assumed would remain so until all the renovations were completed, which would be some time well into the future. The kitchen was still the gathering place, and as I entered a tall, military looking man rose.

“Aden, this is my father, Arnold White, and my mother, Janice.”

I began; “Pleased to meet you Mr…” I stopped and gave a foolish chuckle. “That’s a coincidence,” I said, turning to Kym, “Your single name being the same as your married name.”

There was an awkward silence, and I realised that I had made a blunder, but wasn’t sure what sort of blunder. 

Arnold White saved the situation. “I’m delighted to meet you, Aden…I may call you Aden?  Kym’s been telling us what a help you’ve been.”

He gave a laugh. “Actually did a tour of duty in Aden in the old days when I was in the army.”

Mrs.White shook my hand. She was an older version of Kym and still a lovely looking woman.

“I believe we have to thank you for being so kind to our girl?”

Not sure how to respond to these plaudits I muttered something like, “Not done much really.”

“That’s not what Kym tells us,” Janice White said.  

“Come and look at my babies,” Kym almost pleaded.

The twins, also ensconced in the kitchen, were asleep side by side in a double cot. Looking at them, I did not know what to say. They looked pretty much like most babies, so I murmured something about them being looking nice.

“Nice!” said a voice behind me. Emily Carter had entered the kitchen unobserved by me, and now stood looking at me fiercely.

“Nice?” she repeated. “They’re two of the prettiest little sweeties you’re ever likely to see, Aden Barclay. Nice! Huh!” 

“I was going to say something like that, Emily, if you hadn’t interrupted,” I lied.

“And donkeys might turn into fish,” she retorted. “Lunch, Kym?”

“Yes please, Emily.”

Over lunch, I learned that Arnold White had been a Colonel in the British army, and had served mainly in the warmer climes of what remained of the old empire.
“Thought I’d retire out here where it’s a bit warmer than the old country. Not so sure about this place though. Damned cold when that north wind blows.”

“Damned hot in the summer when it blows,” I said. “The snow’s gone and we get the hot wind from the inland.”

We got around to talking about Kym’s plans for the cottages and the stables, and I ended up wandering out with Arnold to take a look at the remains of the old house.

“Really am damned grateful to you, old chap…looking after our girl. Been through a rough time. Told her and told her not to marry the bastard, but she would have her own way…sorry, speaking out of turn. Not for me to go on about all that to you. She’ll tell you if she wants to. Quite capable of speaking up as you may have discovered.”

I could not honestly say I had noticed this facet of Kym’s personality, but then, I’d only known her for a very short time, so I muttered, “I suppose so.”

Despite his resolve not to go on, whatever the problem had been, he could not completely hold back.

“Damned shame. Loveliest girl you could ever wish to see. Just like her mother. Damn fine horsewoman too. Taught her to ride myself. Could have had the pick of chaps, and she chose that…Damn it, said I’d shut up, so I will.”

This time he did “shut up.” We wandered round the vicinity of the old house and the stables, conjecturing what might be done with them.”

Arnold chuckled. “Won’t make a bit of difference what we think, she’ll do it her own way.”

Returning to the kitchen, Janice White lured me into the ruins of the front garden on pretence of getting my advice about what could be done with it. She had her own piece to say to me.

“I’m so glad Kym has found a nice friend. It’s been so hard for her…the babies and her breakdown. We were very worried when she made up her mind to get away and come here. We pictured her all alone trying to cope…and we had the babies…and then you came along.”

Between them Arnold and Janice had added to my questions about Kym at least threefold. What had happened to this woman to drive her to leave her babies and come here?

“When she bought the place the plan was for all the renovations to be done before she moved in, but suddenly she couldn’t wait. That bloody man…”

Her voice trailed off, and I was somewhat taken aback at her use of the word “bloody.” I said, “Shall we go in?”

We went back to the kitchen, and I was a couple of paces into the room when I saw Kym breast feeding one of the babies. I could recall when my two sisters were small, my mother breast-fed them, but always away from my sight. I had never seen a baby being breastfed.

My first reaction was to be overwhelmed by the beauty of what I was seeing. I had heard that some women do not like breast feeding their child, or are even revolted at the very thought. It was clear that Kym was not one of those.

She sat in a chair her head bent to look at the baby as it suckled I noticed for the first time her long slender neck with a most exquisite curve as she watched over the baby. The thought that came to my mind was “Madonna and child.”

Wrenching myself out of this contemplation of Kym I apologised and made to leave the room.

“No need to be shy, old chap,” Arnold said, “Kym’s not worried. Not been brought up to be troubled about this sort of thing. Lovely, don’t you think? Used to get enormous pleasure seeing Janice feed Kym when she was a baby.”

Without really thinking, I spoke what was in my mind. “She looks lovely.”

Kym may not have been troubled about being seen breast feeding, but she blushed as she looked up at me and smiled.

“By the way,” I said by way of diverting the conversation, “I don’t know if they are boys and girls.” 

“Girls” snapped Emily who was working at the sink. “Can’t you tell?” You don’t think boys would be as pretty as them do you?”

Not knowing how to reply, and having already stayed beyond the time I had allocated for the visit, I excused myself. “Must get back to work.”

“Of course, old boy, beamed Arnold. See you to the car.”

I said goodbye to Janice and Kym, and called to Emily, “See you in town some time.”

Her reply was “Humph.”

I found myself reluctant to take my eyes from Kym, who was now feeding the other baby. Something deep inside me that I couldn’t identify stirred.

Arnold made use of his escorting me to the car to thank me again.

“Damned grateful old boy. Can go back to town feeling the girl’s safe. Be damned glad not to be bottle feeding those kids anymore, even though they are sweeties.”

I drove away with, to say the least, mixed feelings. I seemed to have been cast in the mould of a knight-errant that had ridden to the rescue of a young maiden. My reaction to seeing Kym breast-feeding troubled me. I felt I had seen love in action, and this had awakened a chord of love in me.

“Careful, Aden,” I told myself. “Don’t want to get tangled up there. Stick to business and leave love to the simpletons.”

With that resolve, I began to apply myself to the future. Phineas was well past the age when most men retire. He had said quite clearly that I might become a partner and eventually take over the practice. He was not going to let me just walk in. I would have to buy my share of the practice.

My salary was good, and I had already saved a reasonable portion of it, but would now set about saving more. If when the time came for me to ‘buy in” I did not have enough money, I should have to borrow.

Now more than ever I applied myself to the work, telling myself that I had no time to go socialising with Kym. She was no longer alone, as she had Emily at the cottages five days a week for several hours. She had no further need of me beyond care of her accounts and the odd bit of legal work for her.

A month went by, and I heard that work had started on the cottage renovations and the stables were to follow. Having become somewhat parochial, I was glad to see that George, our local builder, got the contract.

Emily was used as a sort of go-between, bringing accounts and bills to me from Kym. Kym paid only minor bills from her personal cheque account. I dealt with the larger bills.

I was able to notice that her expenditure was well within the returns on her investments, but this would change when she had to pay for the renovations, and if she bought horses.

I met George one evening while I was having a meal in the pub.

“How’s it going at the cottages?” I inquired.

“Great,” he replied. “The places were well built from the start. Makes it easier when yer want to make alterations. The place don’t fall down round yer ears while yer working. She’s a lovely lady, ain’t she? Tell yer what, she’d be a right catch fer one of the lads round ‘ere, kids and all.”

He chuckled, “Don’t think the local boys have much chance though. Bit too rough fer her.”

He looked at me appraisingly. “Could suit you, though, Aden. Posh university boy and all that.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I don’t think so, George. Too busy working to be bothered with that sort of thing.”

George gave another chuckle. “Wouldn’t mind having a try meself, but I don’t think the misses ‘ud like it.”

I bought him a pint and changed the subject.

Another fortnight passed, and it was six weeks since I had had any contact with Kym, then in mid afternoon I received a telephone call from her.

“Aden, how would you like to come out and have dinner tonight? The cottage renovations are nearly done, and I’ve got a little something to celebrate.”

My first reaction was to excuse myself, telling her I was snowed under with work. On the other hand, I thought, I would like to see the renovations. After all, it wouldn’t be Kym I was going to see, but my client Mrs.White, and as her solicitor and accountant, perhaps I should keep an eye on where the money was going. “No, I won’t be going out there to see Kym!”

“I’d love to come,” I said. (“Careful, lad,” I thought).

“Come early,” she said, “about six o’clock?”

(“Bit of independence, Aden”) “I’m rather busy. Could we make it six-thirty?” (“Huh, some independence, Aden”).

“That would be lovely, Aden. See you at six-thirty.”

She rang off. Why did I wish I was arriving at six? 

The rest of the afternoon dragged. At last, it was time to leave the office. A shower, change of clothes, a bottle of the best red wine the pub could come up with, and I was on my way.

As I drove my throat was dry, and there was a sort of fluttering in my stomach. “Hunger, that’s all it is.”

I pulled up outside the cottages at six-twenty. I knocked on the door and Kym opened it.

“Bugger it, why did my heart seem to miss a couple of beats?”




The Woman at Stable Cottages



“Aden, its lovely to see you. It’s been ages.”

She kissed me on the cheek. 

I have read of innocent maidens blushing when the hero plucks his first kiss. I expected myself to be above such soft and feminine responses. So, why did I feel my face flush?

Conducted into the cottage I could see the changes immediately. Furniture was in place; the rooms were ready for occupation, except pictures were still unhung.

“They’ve finished in this cottage, and have only a bit more to do in the other one,” Kym said. “See the arch? Its all one house now.”

I stepped through the arch to peer into the other cottage and could see there was some plastering to be done and then painting.

Returning to first cottage I was struck by the colours used on the walls and doors. They were blue, green, yellow and orange. In most circumstances, I would have thought the colours both too many and clashing. Somehow, they had been used in such a way in the cottage so as to look just right. I could not work out why, but Kym apparently doing her mind reading again, said, “You find the colours unusual?”

“Er…yes, but they seem to work, somehow…”

She laughed quietly. “Give them time and you’ll find they give you a feeling of serenity.”
I took her word for it, and we proceeded to the kitchen, which, it seemed, was still the domestic focus. The babies were once more asleep in their double cot, and there was a feeling of “home.”

“I like it in here,” Kym commented. “By the way, Emily has been teaching me to cook. You are going to be the first outsider I’ve cooked for – so prepare yourself for the worst.”

I must have looked surprised because she went on, “I’ve never had to cook before, but now, with the babies, I can’t always rely on Emily or someone like her, so I’ve got to learn. There are some things on the go at the moment, so dinner in about half an hour.”

The mention of dinner, which I could smell cooking in the oven, had a follow on effect. One of the babies woke up and began to whimper. This in turn awoke the other one and the whimpers began to rise to a shriller note.

Kym smiled. “Sorry, it’s feeding time. You don’t mind, do you?”

She unbuttoned the top of her dress. She seemed to be wearing a special sort of bra that enabled her to easily expose her breasts. She picked up one of the children, sat down, and with a hand under one of her breasts brought the nipple to the child’s mouth. It began to suck avidly.

The other child was still in the cot, its cries growing lustier.

“I can feed them both at once,” Kym said, “but a prefer one at a time. Would you mind holding Jessica? I won’t be long.”

I had never held a baby in my life and it must have shown. Kym instructed me on how to pick the child up and hold it. Following instructions, I took the child in my arms. As I sat down its cries abated and it began to make sucking noises.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, little one,” I quipped, but despite my inability in the food department, it quieted completely, and lay staring at me. It was the first time I had taken a really close look at either of the children, and its eyes, even at its tender age, had the penetrating look of the mother’s.

“She’s gone very quiet,” I said.

“Babies often like being held by a man. They feel the strength and security, and they…”

“I don’t know their names.”

“You’re holding Jessica and this is Tania. They are being baptised in a couple of weeks.”

I was looking at Kym feeding the baby, and the impact was almost the same as the first time I saw the baby at her breast. I struggled to find a word that would describe what I was seeing and feeling. Words like, “Divine,” “Holy,” “Sacred,” came to mind. 

I sought to pull myself out of this nonsense. “Don’t be such a bloody fool, Aden,” I told myself. “You’re just looking at woman with a baby at her tit. It’s a mammary gland for stuffing food down a kids gullet.”
It was no good. I couldn’t convince myself of what I considered to be a rational view of what I was looking at.

Had I seen any other attractive woman with her breasts on display, I would have got horny. Looking at Kym, I was not getting aroused. It was something else – something more. But what was it? What I was feeling I could not define. My lawyer and accountant brain could not fit the situation neatly into any category I understood.

I became aware that I was staring at Kym, fascinated. I looked away, embarrassed and troubled that I might be discomfiting Kym.

Those eyes of hers read me again. “It all right to look, Aden,” she said gently, “some father’s love to see their wife feeding…” 

I looked up at her words, and she stopped abruptly. Her usual self-assurance seemed to desert her, and she stammered.

“Sorry… Aden… I didn’t mean to put it like that…it’s just that…that I would have liked…well…their father…”

“Its okay,” I muttered lamely.

The child at her breast came off the nipple and began to cry.

Kym looked at me and said, “Sometimes they feel the emotional state of the mother.”

I could feel Kym’s agitation myself, and I sought to pacify the situation.

“I think seeing you feeding the baby is beautiful.”

“Clumsy fool.” I had made things worse. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she bent her head over the child to try and hid it.

The baby I was holding had started to cry in sympathy with the other. I let a bit of paternal instinct come into play.

“I’ll just walk her around a bit, it might settle her.”

My purpose was to get away from Kym as much as to stop the child from crying. I succeeded in both objectives. I left the kitchen and took the child for a tour round the rest of the place. It seemed to enjoy the movement, and began to go to sleep.

Kym’s voice called me, so I returned to the kitchen. She seemed to have recovered from her emotional upset and was putting Tania back in the cot. She held out her arms for Jessica and in passing her over my hand brushed against Kym’s warm breast. I felt my stomach muscles tense, and there was a tingling sensation in my groin.

Kym exposed her other breast for Jessica, and this time I observed them unashamedly. Neither of us spoke – perhaps afraid that we might say the wrong things again.

I wanted to capture the vision. “If only I had a camera,” I thought, “Or better still, have the ability to paint them.” But then, no photograph or painting could replace the living reality of what I was seeing.
I made another effort to bring myself down to earth.

“Millions and millions of woman have been and are feeding kids,” I thought. “Why are you so wrapped up in this one?” 

I could not answer my question.

Ridiculously, I felt a pang of regret when Kym had finished feeding. Tania was already asleep, and Jessica joined her.

Kym now completed preparations for our meal, which turned out to be a very simple affair of roast beef and vegetables, followed by what she called, “A lemon thing,” which was delicious. When I poured the first glass of the wine I had brought, Kym said, “I told you I have something to celebrate. Well, it’s the completion of my first interior decorating design since I came here, and its acceptance. Not bad for a mother of two who has been up to her ears with moving, builders and accountants?

We laughed and drank to her victory. 

After dinner Kym put on a music CD, and she showed me some of the paintings she intended hanging on the walls. They were prints, not originals. In fact, the originals of the prints would have cost her whole fortune two or three times over.

Two of her prints really captured me. One seemed to fit in with the other business she had said she intended engaging in. It was called “Brood Mares and Foals,” by George Stubbs. The other, a humorous painting by Thomas Rowlandson called, “The Merchant,” or as it is sometimes known as, “A Money Scrivener.”

This latter picture depicted an eighteenth century Scrooge figure contemplating his accounts, while a clerk works away in the background. It seemed an unusual picture to hang on a cottage wall, and Kym, observing my interest in it, said: “It will serve as a reminder.”

I was tempted to ask, “Reminder of what,” but decided I might be putting my foot into a wasp’s nest.

By the time we had looked through and discussed all the paintings it was getting late. I had heard somewhere that nursing mothers often have to get up in the night to feed their babies, so I decided it was time to go.

I rose to bid Kym goodnight, but she stopped me.

“Aden, there’s yet another favour I want to ask of you.”

I anticipated something to do with the cottages or accounts, or perhaps a legal matter. I was wrong.

I’ve hesitated to ask you…and now, after what I said earlier you might think…I mean I shall understand if you say no…so please…don’t feel obliged…but I would appreciate…”

“Please Kym, tell me what you’d appreciate.”

“Well, it’s the twins…I er…”

“Kym, say it and get it over with, please.

In a rush, “The baptism.”

“Yes?”

“You see, Emily is going to be god mother, and George said he’d come with his wife, just to be there. So I wondered if you’d…just as a friend…mummy and daddy will be there…”

She must have seen that I’d just about reach bursting point at her vacillation, so she hastily said, “Would you come to the baptism?” 

“Oh my God, what have I got into?” This was all getting a bit too domestic for my liking.

She noticed my hesitation.

“Its all right Aden, I only thought…I haven’t been here long and don’t know many people…and I just thought…”

“Of course I’ll come.” (“Flaming idiot. Atheist Aden off to church”).

“Oh Aden, I’m so pleased. I mean…you have become a special friend. Er…would you hold one of the babies during the baptism?”

“Well you see, I don’t really believe…I mean, I don’t go the church, and all that sort of thing…”

“Its all right. You won’t have to take any vows or anything. Just hold one of them for me, that’s all.”

“Well I suppose so, yes.”

“Thank you.”

I got my second kiss on the cheek for the evening and left in turmoil.

I was so distrait I nearly climbed a tree with the car on the drive home. What was going on? What have I got myself into? 

I kept telling myself, “She’s just a client who happens to be a friend…just a friend, nothing more. You are doing her a favour…just as a …Oh, my God!”

The visit to my weekly comforter was more desperate than usual. I had a struggle to ejaculate, and she asked me if I was all right. I lied and said I was “just feeling a bit off colour.”

I found it hard to concentrate on my work, and in defending a client on a minor charge in the local magistrate’s court, the magistrate had to coax me on a point I should have seen for myself. It was that very point that got my client off the hook, so to speak, much to the annoyance of the police sergeant who was prosecuting.

I saw and heard nothing from Kym apart from a telephone call to inform me of the date and time of the baptism.
On the day of the baptism we all met outside the church. The congregation, so I was informed, was considerably larger than usual. Kym might not have many friends around the town, but she did have many people wondering about her. I suspected that a lot of them came to the baptism out of curiosity.

The baptismal party consisted of Arnold and Janice White, Emily, George Gardener and his wife, myself and of course, Kym and the twins.

Arnold was holding one of the babies. As they were identical twins I did not know which was which, but spying me, Arnold promptly planked the child in my arms saying, “Ah, here’s the fella. She’s all yours for the duration.”

I found myself holding Jessica or Tania. I didn’t know which. The child lay in my arms giving me the penetrating look I had observed before. “Wonder what the little blighter’s thinking,” I wondered.

We entered the church and were conducted to the front pew. It was a bit too conspicuous for my liking.

The service began and was not as boring as I thought it would be. The vicar or parson, or whatever he was, seemed to talk a lot of sense. I noted that when he prayed, he did not go about asking God for a lot of favours or special treatment. He asked that we might become aware of who are hurting in our community, and we be given the insights and ability to help them. Atheist or not, I liked that.

When it came to the baptism all seven of us plus the parson, gathered round the font. Only Kym and Emily had to say anything, and the rest of us were there just as friends, except I was a baby holder.

The parson, seeing me holding the baby, looked a bit confused. Kym whispered something to him, and glancing at me he said, “Ah. Perhaps, Mr.Barclay, you would give the baby to Mrs.Carter for the ceremony.”

I handed over the child to Emily and the baptism proceeded.

I had half expected that the babies would cry during the baptism, especially when having water splashed over their heads. As it was, they behaved like little angels, and as each child was held up before the congregation there were female oohs and aahs. 

A table had been booked at the pub for a celebratory meal to which the baptismal party, including the parson, repaired after the service. Red and white wine was available, and I noted that the parson enjoyed himself hugely.

When the meal was eaten the party continued to sit around the table finishing the wine, and Arnold came over to me and whispered, “Come and have one at the bar with me.”

The bar was nearly empty, and Arnold ordered a double whisky for himself and a brandy for me. While I sipped on my brandy he got through a couple more doubles, and having already had a fair amount of red wine, he grew tipsy and took on what I decided was an officer’s mess way of speaking.

“Don’t like to be nosy, old boy, but feel I must ask. Are you and Kym…you know…are you er…well, are you er…intimate?”
“Good lord no! I’m just her solicitor and accountant. We are quite good friends, but that’s all.”

“Ah! Yer see, Janice and I, we notice she talks about yer a lot. Love her heaps, old boy, the wife and I. Went a bit wild yer know…when she was a teenager. Probably my fault. Bit strict…army discipline and all that…see it now. Follow me?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely girl at heart…very bright too…just went off the track, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Beautiful kids, ain’t they?”

“Yes, lovely.”

“Been badly hurt, old boy…very badly. Would have shot the bastard, but not worth going ter jail for…see what I mean?”

“Er…yes.”

“Don’t want to see her hurt again. Learnt her lesson, but nice looking girl, lots of money…”

“Yes, could be vulnerable, but she seems very independent and capable.”

“Oh, quite, old boy, quite. Hope you don’t mind me goin on like this, just thought I’d ask. Well set up young fella like you…could understand if you and she…but as you say, just friends.”

“Yes, just friends.”

“Glad she’s got a nice friend like you. Another brandy?”

“No thanks. I think we ought to be getting back to the party?”

“Of course. Thanks fer listenin’ old chap.”

We went back to the others who were on the point of breaking up. Kym came over to me and kissed my cheek. Thank you for coming, Aden.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Did you really?”

Her eyes were on me, the truth would out. I considered for a moment. “Yes, I did, thank you for inviting me.”

Kym gave my hand a gentle squeeze. 

Mrs.Gardener was the only one who had stuck to non-alcoholic drinks, and Kym had been very moderate, so they now had the babies. I got bold and kissed each child on the forehead, and bade the company goodbye and left.

“Well, you can’t say you haven’t been warned, Aden,” I told myself. “Her parents have had me lined up as a potential husband, or at least, a lover. I bet the others have similar thoughts. Better listen to your father’s warning.”

I made up my mind that it had to stop. I would avoid Kym and her brood in future. 

Fate dictated otherwise.

Arriving at the office on the Wednesday after the baptism I looked at the appointment list placed on my desk by Anne, our secretary/receptionist. Glancing down the list my eyes glued to one name: “Mrs.White. 1.30 p.m.”

“Oh God, what now?”

I got through my appointments and other work with difficulty that morning. I was so tense I could not eat my lunch. 1.30 precisely Anne put her head round my office door.

“Mrs.White, Aden.”

“Show her in please.”

Kym is one of those horrible people who can wear old rags and make them look as if they are fresh from a top fashion house. She looked like that now.

“Hello, Aden.”

Good afternoon, Kym.” (“Damn her, why does she have to look so good?”) “Sit down, Kym.”

 (“Oh God, why did she have to cross her beautiful legs like that?”)

“They’ve started work on the stables.”

“Ah.” (“Its business, just business!”).

“I need to start thinking about buying horses, so I thought I might see how I stand financially.”

“I see.” My fingers flicked over the computer keyboard, bringing up her records. Well, when you pay for all the renovation work, and assuming there have been no additional costs, you will have reduced your readily available capital considerably. I have no idea what horses cost, or how many you want to buy, but my guess is that you wont have enough ready money to cover the purchase.”

“Should I cash in some of my investments?”

“That would be a pity. They are very sound investments, and while they don’t return big dividends, they do give more than bank interest on a loan. My suggestion is that we seek a bank loan. Of course, they would have to be assured that the business is sound.”

“What about if I put up the cottages as collateral?” 

“Yes, if you feel sure the risk is worth taking.”
And so we went on for nearly an hour. It was all very business like with nothing personal entering into the discussion. To my shame, I was so concerned to keep Kym at bay that I did not even ask about her welfare or that of the twins.

We ended up with what I hoped would be a satisfactory arrangement financially, and I rose to say goodbye.

Kym shook my hand and my stomach went into knots again, and my groin tingled.

“I hope we shall see something of you soon, Aden.”

“Er…yes.” I assumed that what she meant by “we”, was her and the twins.”

Negotiations with the bank were out of my hands, so until Kym got the loan and it was handed over to me, there seemed no further reason for contact, at least, for some time.

When she left, there was slight trace of her delicate perfume left in the air.

The loan came through very quickly and was paid into Kym’s working capital account.

Six weeks went by without further face to face contact. There were a few telephone calls to tie up odd pieces of business, nothing more, until early in the seventh week after her visit. She telephoned.

“Aden, the State Symphony Orchestra is coming to Mine City to give a couple of concerts. Mummy and daddy have sent me two tickets for the performance on Friday this week. Would you come with me? They’re playing a piece you said was your favourite.”

“Yes, I’ll come.”

“Lovely. It starts at eight, so if I pick you up about seven, will that be all right?”

“Fine.”

“Until Friday, then.”

She rang off.

There seemed to be two Adens battling away inside me, the trouble was, I didn’t know which was the demon and which the angel.

“What the hell are you thinking of, going to a concert with her?”

“I’m only going for the music.”

“Liar. You want to see her again, don’t you?”

“No. I’m going because I shall get a free ticket.”

“After all the resolutions you made about not seeing her socially again! You’re mad!”

“All right, I enjoy her company, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Of course, you won’t be noticing how pretty she is, and you won’t enjoy her perfume or remember how she looked when she fed the babies, will you?”

“Certainly not.”




The Woman at Stable Cottages



“Double liar. You are weak, Aden Barclay. The boy who could go it alone, hah! The one who didn’t want any entanglements with females. She’s got you hooked, old son, well and truly hooked.”

“No she hasn’t. She just wants me to go with her because she knows I like music.”

“Oh yeah!”

So, it went on for the rest of the week. Many times, I resolved not to think about Kym, but she kept exploding into my head. My comfort lady asked again what was wrong; “Your not really with me, are you? What is it? Have you fallen in love or something?”

“Certainly not.”

“Seems very like love to me. Come on tell me who she is. Or have you discovered you’re really gay?” She laughed.

“I am not gay, as you should know, and I’m not in love.”

“Some blokes like the best of both worlds.”

“Well I don’t.”

“You won’t tell me who she is, so I’ll tell you. It’s that woman at stable cottages, isn’t it? And don’t bother denying it, half the town have got you and her hooked up.”

“What!”

“This is a small town, Aden, people pick up things. Even the tiniest incident or hint is enough to get them speculating. If you didn’t want people to think you and her were getting together, you should never have turned up holding the baby at the baptism.”

“Let’s close the subject shall we?”

“If you say so. Come on, let’s go to bed and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

She was right; I wasn’t really with her. When I ejaculated into her, it was not she, but a fantasy of Kym. I began to see myself as a hopelessly lost soul.

Friday night Kym arrived promptly at seven. As I entered the car, the first thing I noticed was her delicate perfume. I forced my accountant self to come to the surface and thought, “Bet that perfume cost a fortune.” 

Unfortunately, my accountant self fled when she leaned over to kiss my cheek and say, “Thank you for coming with me, Aden.”

“Who’s looking after the twins?” I asked.

“Emily. She’s staying over night.”

“What about…er…the, er, feeding.”

She laughed. “I fed them before I left and there are a couple of bottles prepared just in case.” She laughed again; “I didn’t expect you to be so interested.”

“Well, I just thought…you know…” 

We let the subject drop.

It was only about a half-hour drive to Mine City and the conversation, such as it was, focused on her stables and the two horses she had purchased.

“Of course,” she said, “I shall need at least a dozen horses, and then someone to help with them and the stable cleaning and so on. Perhaps you might ask Mr.Willow if he knows of any suitable person? They can be male or female.”

“I’ll do that,” I said hoarsely, and thought, “Why is my throat so dry and my stomach all tensed up?”

We were a little early for the concert so we hung around in the foyer for a while. The first person I clapped eyes on, or rather, he clapped eyes on Kym and I, was Phineas. He had come to the concert with his wife.

He bounded over to us, eyes twinkling; he introduced his wife to Kym, then said, “ Nice to see you two here.” He turned to Kym and winked, “Until you came along I used to think that this boy was not making friends half enough. Glad I sent him to meet you that first day. Very suitable, very suitable, eh?”

Kym smiled and said, “I’m glad you sent him.”

I decided to redirect the conversation and asked him about a suitable person to work with Kym’s horses.

“Think about it over the weekend, old son, let you know on Monday. Better get into the auditorium.”

Mrs.Willow sidled up to me and whispered, “Haven’t seen her before, she’s lovely, Aden, you’re a lucky boy.”

The State Orchestra is excellent, and the conductor hurled them into the overture that happened to be Beethoven’s Leonora Number Three. Having nearly brought the roof down with the energy of the performance, the concert was off to a good start.

The Sibelius Violin Concerto followed the overture. During the course of this work, my hand brushed against Kym’s as it rested on the armrest, I let my hand remain on hers, and it was not rejected. After a while I felt her fingers entwining with mine. My blood pressure seemed to rise, and I could barely concentrate on the music.

During the interval, we saw several other Paradise Valley people, who seemed to give us ”knowing glances.” Some of them had never met Kym, so there were introductions to be made. Phineas did not approach us again, but I saw him twinkling at us a few times.

While I was getting a couple of drinks at the bar one of the newly introduced men came up and dug his elbow into my ribs.

“Lucky sod,” he chortled, “Some blokes get all the luck.”

So, it seemed that everyone had Kym and I paired off. During the second half of the concert we did the finger twining again, and the thought came to me, “Aden, you’ve been getting yourself all stirred up about this woman, and people are assuming all sorts of things about our relationship, but what is Kym thinking and feeling?” 

Neither I, nor the rest of the people who had us as good as married or as lovers, seemed to consider that side of the equation. Suppose Kym was merely being friendly? Suppose she was simply expressing her gratitude for the help I had given her? Handholding did not have to indicate a lifetime commitment, and many people kissed each other on the cheek.

Perhaps I had been getting myself in a state over nothing!  The thought did not help. It left me more confused than ever about my own feelings.

The conversation during the drive home centred around the concert, and Kym broached the idea that we might go and see the next performance by the “Mines City Theatre Company.” I stalled on this one, saying something about having to see what my workload looked like.

Kym dropped me outside the two bed roomed cottage I rented. As I was about to get out of the car she kissed my cheek again and said, “I have enjoyed being with you, Aden. Good night.”

I got out and she drove off. I watched the red taillight until she turned the corner of the street. When it disappeared, I felt a sudden hollowness inside me. I entered the cottage that for the first time seemed very empty.

Monday morning Phineas came into my office with the names of a couple of girls whom he said were “Horse fanatics.”

“Should suit Mrs.White nicely.”

“He sat down and looked at me penetratingly for a few seconds, then said, “Suppose we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon? Good idea, old son, good idea.”

I put on a haughty manner and replied, “If you are referring to Kym and I we just happen to be friends.”

He gave me another stare. “Are you out of your mind, old son. There’s fifty blokes and more in this town who’d give their right arms to climb into her bed. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it! If you haven’t then it makes me wonder what you do think about.”

I felt my anger beginning to rise and boss or not, I snapped back, “If you must know, I’m concentrating on getting that partnership you talk about.”

“No need to get upset, old son. Didn’t mean to interfere, but with a gorgeous girl like that in tow I took it for granted that you’d be…you know…even with the babies…I mean, she’d be quite catch.”

Phineas was not easily abashed, but he looked it now. I cooled down and spoke less aggressively. 

“Phineas, everybody in this town, it seems, has Kym and I getting married or becoming lovers. As I say, we are just friends. I have no intention of catching Kym, and I don’t think she is out to catch me.”

“You know best old son. Sorry I spoke out turn.”

He rose and got as far as the door, then turned, “You’re a bloody fool if you don’t try and catch her.”

Before I could protest, he fled back to his office.

I got Anne to telephone Kym to pass on the names Phineas had given me, and tried to settle down to work. It was not easy.

There was another long gap of time and no contact with Kym. I think it must have been about three weeks. Then one Thursday afternoon Anne put her head round my door.

“Emily Carter is here, she’d like to see you, have you got time?”

I felt a little alarmed, wondering if something was wrong out at the cottages, so I told Anne to send Emily in.

She came in looking very huffy. She did not wait to be asked to sit down; she simply sat and looked at me aggressively.

“Now then, Aden Barclay,” she said portentously, “It’s time someone had a word with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. What do you think you’re playing at?”

“What are you talking about, Emily?”

“What are you talking about, Emily,” she mimicked. “Don’t you play the innocent with me Aden Barclay.”

“Please, Emily, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. If I offended you in…” 

“Offended me? Me!” she almost shrieked at me. “What about that lovely woman, eh?”

I decided not to pretend I didn’t know whom she referred to.

“You mean Kym.”

“Ah, he’s woken up,” she said to the ceiling. “About bloody time to you…you…you philanthropist.”

Put in context I assumed she meant “Philanderer.” 

“You play around with that girl’s emotions, then don’t see her or speak to her for weeks. What’s your game, Aden Barclay?”

I decided on a dignified manner despite the quivering in my stomach and heart pounding in my chest.

“I do not have a game, Emily, and certainly not in relation to Mrs.White. She and I are merely friends. There is nothing more to it than that.”

She addressed the ceiling again; “Oh Gawd, does he really not know?”

“Know what, Emily?”

“Do I have to tell you? Been to university haven’t you? Pity they don’t teach some common sense along with all that other rubbish.”

I was angry now. “Emily, you will either tell me plainly what you mean, or get out of my office.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you plainly enough, and it’ll be a pleasure to get out of your office, Mr.Barclay.”

Threateningly, “Emily…”

“All right, all right. If you want it straight, here it is; Gawd knows why, but the poor thing loves you.”

A long silence followed. Emily looked exhausted by her verbal efforts, and I was in a tangle of emotions.

Finally, I managed to croak out, “How do you know that, Emily?”

From a shriek, her voice descended to a barely audible whisper.

“Don’t I see her day after day? Don’t she keep asking, ‘Do you think Aden will call today?’ ‘Do you think he’ll telephone?’ ‘Why do you think he’s avoiding me?’ ‘Have I done or said something to offend him?’ ‘I’ve taken the initiative each time in our friendship, but afterwards he just seems to ignore me’.”

“D’yer think I don’t know when a woman’s in love? And that poor dear with the twins, trying to get her businesses started, and my guess, someone’s given her a bad time, and now you. Don’t you think she’s had enough?”

“Have I been that bad, Emily?”

She softened towards me. “Aden, you’ve got the chance of a lovely woman – not just to look at – she’s good inside.”

“I know,” I said.

“Then what’s wrong, Aden? The babies, is that what it is? You don’t want to have someone else’s kids around? They’re hers too, you know, and they’re the sweetest little things.”

“No, no, it’s not the twins.”

“Look, Aden, if you don’t love her, then at least go and talk to her. I mean, if you’re like some people, all wrapped up in work with no interest outside – by the way, I know about you and that woman you visit – go and tell her. I don’t mean come blurting out with it, but see her and let your ideas drop into the conversation. She’s a clever woman; she’ll catch on. And if you don’t want her I hope she gets someone more appreciative than you, and then you can suffer about him getting into her bed.”

She rose. “I’ve said what I came here to say. What you do about it is up to you, but even if you don’t love her, at least be kind to her. It’s a bloody shame though, lovely girl like that with so much love to give – and who wants to receive.”

I rose and extended my hand. We shook hands across the desk.

“Thank you, Emily. You’ve really put me in the picture and made me see myself and what I’ve been doing to Kym. I promise I shall make amends.”

She smiled. “I knew you weren’t all bad.” She departed.

I sat at my desk staring into space. “Love?” I’d been “in love” many times at university, but that was the sort of love that said, “I want to fuck that girl.” It was infatuation and it didn’t last.

But Love with a capital L. That is something different. Did I want that? Did I want to give that? To be committed, to not only bed, but to care for that person, to share their good times and their bad? To be there for them no matter what? 

If once I decided to love, and such love must be a conscious decision, that is what it would mean to me. Perhaps that was why I had been holding back from Kym? It was a sort of fear of self – fear of the unqualified nature of my love once I decided to give it.

Did I want to give this kind of love to Kym, and with Kym, the twins? Did Kym want that love from me?

I thought of our relationship. A few pecks on the cheek initiated by Kym. Holding hands like a couple of lovesick teenagers in the concert. The soft warmth of her breast as my hand accidentally brushed against it when handing her the baby.

I did not know the answers to my questions at that moment, but I was going to damn well find them.

Emily had, perhaps unknowingly, hit the mark when she asked, “What’s your game, Aden Barclay.” I had been playing games – games with my own emotions, and apparently with Kym’s. It was time to call a halt.

I picked up the telephone and pressed in Kym’s number. I got her answering machine.

“Aden Barclay, Kym. I’d like to come and see you this evening. Would you call back and let me know if that’s okay?”

I rang off feeling discontented. There is always something unsatisfactory about speaking to an answering machine rather than a flesh and blood person.

I tried to work, but as usual, when Kym loomed large, my concentration flagged. I was on edge for her return call, and when by five o’clock she had not answered, I had a feeling of desperation. 

I was about to give up when the telephone rang. I grabbed it.

“Aden Barclay.”

“Aden, sorry I didn’t get back to you before. I was out in the stables and we don’t have the extension on there yet. You want to come out this evening?”

“If you’re free Kym.”

“Yes, but you won’t be able to see the stables or the horses. We haven’t got the power out there yet, either.”

“I’m not coming to see the stables or the horses, Kym. I’ve got something important I want to say to you, and I want it to be face to face.”

I sensed her hesitating, then, “That sounds ominous, Aden. Am I broke, or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s personal.”

Another pause. “I see. Well, what about eight o’clock. The twins will be asleep by then and I will have finished clearing up.

“Thanks, Kym. See you at eight.”

I put the telephone down. My heart was racing and I felt slightly sick. What was I going to say? How could I open the conversation? All my fine legal training and accountants jargon was of no help. Again, Emily had been right. If only the university had taught me “common sense.”

Once more, I remembered my father’s advice on not being hooked by a woman, and then I gave an inner chuckle. He was a fine one to talk. He got hooked and seemed to be very happy to be landed by my mother.”

I went home and tried to eat a wretched meal of tinned spaghetti, but I didn’t seem to be able to swallow it. I showered and changed into some casual clothing, then tried to watch the news on television. I saw and heard none of it. My mind was focused on Kym and my meeting with her. 

The time came to set off, and I drove with a buzzing noise in my head. I think I was tenser than when I used to sit for university exams.

Kym must have heard my car draw up, or was watching for it, because she had the door open before I got to it.

“It is lovely to see you Aden,” I got my kiss on the cheek. “You have me nervous. Are you going to give me some bad news?"

“I don’t know, Kym, I honestly don’t know.”

She led me into the kitchen that now had a couple of small armchairs on either side of the wood stove, and indicated that I should sit.

“Aden, you look so pale, what is it? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“No, at least, not the sort of trouble I think you mean.”

“What sort, then? Tell me and I’ll help if I can.”

Damn the woman! Why did she have to be good as well as beautiful?

“It’s about you and me, Kym.”

“Us?”

“Have you heard the stories going round the town, linking us?”

“Yes. Emily likes to keep me informed,” She gave her throaty chuckle. “Is it bothering you?”

“Yes…er…no, well, sort of.”

“You don’t seem to be sure whether it’s ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

I screwed up my courage. 

“Kym, I’ve been lectured by your father, by Phineas, and this afternoon by Emily. I get all sorts of sly hints, nods, winks and I’ve almost been congratulated on our engagement or marriage or becoming lovers, I’m not sure which. I keep saying we are just friends, but nobody seems to believe me. More to the point, they don’t want to believe me.”

Kym became very serious. “I see. What did daddy have to say to you about me?” 

I gave her a brief summary of his bar side lecture, pointing out that he had been most concerned that she should not be hurt again.

“Did he tell you why or how I was hurt?”

“No, although he did say you would tell me if and when you wanted to.”

“Do you want to know, Aden?”

“Only if you want to tell me…I mean…I have no right to…”

“Why would you want to know, Aden?”

She had caught me nicely. Why indeed would I want to know? I was not the scandal collecting type, always assuming there was something scandalous to collect, and so why?

Kym looked deep into me with her penetrating eyes.

”I can say why I would tell you – why I want to tell you. I want to tell you because I want to be honest with you, because I don’t want to hide anything from you. I need you to know me as I am, and what we all are is made up largely from what we have been and done. I will tell you what hurt me so deeply, because I love you, Aden.”

I was stunned by her openness. I would never have asked her if she loved me because a declaration of love must be given without the slightest pressure or duress. It must be freely and voluntarily declared. Kym had done exactly that.

“Do you still want me to tell you my tale of woe, Aden?” She had said this cynically.

I said, “If you want to.”

“Damn it, Aden, why do you always have to be a lawyer. Can’t you give a straight answer, to a straight question?”

“Tell me.”

“I make one proviso. When I have told you, if you must, have contempt for me, reject me, but do not pity me. I would prefer that you understand, but no pity.”

“Very well.”

“Do you remember when you thought it odd that my married name was the same as my unmarried name?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, my married name was different. I use the Mrs. title for the sake of the twins, but my married name was (she mentioned a name I thought I recognised).”

“I seem to know that name, but can’t place it.”

“You should know it, he’s one of this country’s multi-millionaires.”

Then it hit me. He was best known for crude but effective television advertisements. The sort that repels, but remains in the memory, which I suppose means they do what they are intended to do. He had his fingers in many other financial pies, and was known as someone who would do anything for money and power.

“You were married to him?”

“Yes.”

I was at a loss to know what to say, but Kym continued.

“I met him soon after I had graduated from my interior decorator’s course. His was the first house I was contracted to “do over” as he called it. I was young, and as daddy told you, rebellious. In my teenage years, I revolted against the discipline that daddy tried to impose.”

“I met this man, rich, famous, and he seemed a free spirit. He did and said what he wanted to. He rode roughshod over anyone who stood in his way. I was impressed, I even thought he was wonderful, the sort of person I thought I wanted to be, not bound by all that old fashioned moral and ethical nonsense. Just take what you want by any means you can.”




The Woman at Stable Cottages



“Can you believe it, Aden, I was very attractive in those days…”

I protested, “Kym, you are lovely now…”

“Do shut up, Aden. He asked me to marry him. He was in his mid-forties, and I knew he had been married five times before, but it would be different with me. How we delude ourselves! I would find the best in him. I would make him happy. Together we would conquer the world.”

“I won’t bore you with a long story. He was a pig. He might, as the media has told us, have had a horrendous childhood, but he was a pig. He didn’t care who he hurt, who he destroyed, so long as he came out on top.”

Kym had spoken strongly to this point, but now she seemed to wilt.

“Aden, oh Aden, you don’t know the things he made me do. He was a man of power, but in bed, he wanted to be abased…to be humiliated…I can’t…I won’t tell you, Aden… Can you understand? Please say you understand.”

I was not to pity her, but what do you call it when the heart bleeds for someone?

“I understand.”

“When I became pregnant, do you know what he said, Aden? Oh, Aden, try to understand, please…”

“Just tell me, Kym.”

She slipped from her chair onto the rug before the fire and knelt there as if praying. I wanted to go to her, hold her, but did not have the nerve.

“He said, ‘Get rid of the little bastard.’ We didn’t know it was twins then. He called it, ‘An accident’. I didn’t know, Aden, I didn’t know what to do. I still thought I could show him what love could do, could be, but I…”

I hated myself. Here was someone in anguish, and I hadn’t the guts to comfort her.

“Aden, when I was in hospital, just after having the babies, he was interviewed on television. I was watching him on the screen over my bed. They asked him about his many marriages. Do you know what he said?”

I did know, for I had seen that interview, but I let her get it out.

“He said, ‘I marry them, then after a couple of years, when I’ve had enough of ‘em, I give ‘em a couple of million dollars and piss ’em off’.”

“I was so humiliated. I felt like a slut. I was something to be used, then thrown aside. Aden, don’t hate me.”

“When I came home with the babies, I tried to tax him with what he said on television. He laughed. ‘Piss of now, if you like, I’ve had all I want from you. You can have your money now, that’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ve got your replacement lined up.’”

“Do you understand, Aden?”

“I understand.”

“I got very sick with depression. They called it ‘post natal depression’. It wasn’t that, it was the humiliation of his rejection, and my foolishness in ever being tied up with him.”

“Mummy and daddy did their best. I got my ‘pay out’ from him, and bought the cottages, but I wasn’t supposed to move in until all the work was done.”

“You know, I thought I had made many friends when I was with him. When he told me I could go, most of them didn’t want to know me. They all wanted to hold on to his coat tails - to get what they could out of him - he thought he could buy love, but all he got was obsequious followers.”

“When you met me off the airplane, I was trying to run away…run way from the memory of his world and all his pathetic, money grubbing ‘friends’. It doesn’t work Aden. You have to face things as they are. I suppose that’s what I’m doing now.”

She ceased speaking, her head bent as she stared at the rug. It had been a cathartic unbosoming. I felt somehow a responsibility as the recipient of her confession.

Kym remained kneeling on the rug before the fire, weeping as if her heart would break. She was a woman who had been used, a toy to be thrown aside. One of the plastic people of our time who, when their “use value” runs out, are sent like discarded plastic wrapping to a social rubbish dump.

At last, I found the courage, or whatever it was, to comfort her. I knelt in front of her and she looked up, her eyes still filled, her face ravaged by tears.

“Well, Aden?”

“I understand, Kym.”

She crumpled against me, pressing in against my chest as if she would hide in me. I put my arms round her. I felt as if I wanted to protect her, to shelter her and her babies. She began to speak again in a voice muffled by my shirt.

“I tried to be fair to him, Aden. I had heard all about his terrible life as a child. I would even have forgiven the hurts he had inflicted on me, but there was one thing that I could not forgive.”

“What?”

“After I left him and went to live with mummy and daddy, I contacted him about access to the twins. Do you know what he said?”

The sobs began again.

“He said…he said…’They’re you’re little shits, you keep ‘em’, and he rang off. He doesn’t want to see them, Aden.”

I knew how this man looked and sounded from his appearance on television. He came across as disdainful and brutal, and he made no attempt to hide it. I don’t like to admit it, but I think he appealed to something both basic and base in people, including me. He touched the worst, in us, almost making it seem the best. He displayed a, “Greed is good” mentality and made one think it a virtue. Yet even then it was hard to accept that he would reject his own children so crudely. 

“That’s the story, Aden. What do you think of me now? ‘A slut’? ‘A money grubbing whore’? That’s what he called the women he had been married to. Is that what I am Aden?”

“No.”

“What then? Tell me what I am to you.”

This I suppose is what people call, “The crunch point.” What I said now would have ongoing consequences for our relationship. It might deepen it or end it, depending what I said. Kym came to my rescue.

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, Aden, not right now. Hearing what I had to say your response at this moment might be different from that which you might make after it has milled around in your head for a while. Come and see me in a week’s time, and tell me then, if you wish.”

Kym had gained some composure, and it seemed that I was to leave. She rose and I stood up. 

“Thank you for listening to my miseries so patiently,” she said, then rising on her toes she put her arms round my neck and kissed me for the first time on my lips. It was not an erotic kiss, but tender and warm. She pressed her still wet face to mine for a moment and said again, “Thank you, Aden.”

She walked to the car with me holding my arm; I opened the car door and said, “Goodnight, Kym.”

“Goodnight, Aden.”

I drove away with the feeling that I was leaving part of myself with her.

I flung myself into work the following week, but her story still buzzed around in my head. My confusion over her had not been dissipated by her revelation, it had redoubled it. I suppose I could not equate the woman I knew with the image of a rebellious girl who married a coarse thug.

Then I took a mental walk up and down in my own past behaviour. The girls I had used, and even my present comfort lady. True, we both understood what the contract was but I now began to feel I was using her as a “thing” and not a person. 

I went to see my comfort lady that week and ended our arrangement.

“Thought it would come to this,” she said with a sigh. “Well, no regrets, Aden. I’ve had some lovely times with you. Just you make sure that girl has some lovely times with you as well.”

We kissed and I left her. I felt a pang of regret. She was some fifteen years older than I was, and a very motherly type. Sex with her was rather like fulfilling the fantasy of many boys, of making love with their mother.

I had, as it were, burnt my sexual bridges behind me, yet I had not clearly defined why I had done that. My legal brain was tormented by this lack of a definition. Was it so I could come to Kym with “clean hands”, or more accurately, “A clean sex organ”? But there was no guarantee that I would ever have sex with Kym. The arrangement was that next time we met, and if I so chose, I could tell her what I thought about her.

There was no compulsion for me to tell her. She had said so her self, but three little words she had used kept gnawing away at me; “I love you.” They had been said almost in passing and were the reason she had told me her story. They had not been said again, but the power they exerted was disproportionate to the number of times they were uttered. They are words, often used casually by people, but in the context of my meeting with Kym, they carried the overtones of commitment. 

Assuming for a moment that marriage or becoming lovers, was the matter to be decided, how did I feel about it?

Construed in the worst possible way, did I want that man’s cast-off? Did I want an association with his children? Kym her self had questioned whether or not she was a “slut,” “a money grubbing whore.” Did I now see her like that?

I had confessed nothing to her, but the question arose in my mind, “Do I want her to see me in the light of what I have been, the things I have done? Or do I want her to accept me as I am now? 

Yes, that is what I expected of her in relation to me. 

What hypocrites we humans can be. As someone said about two thousand years ago, “You judge others by rules that you don’t apply to yourselves.” 

Kym had suggested a week to pass before we met again. It was now less than a week, but I had reached the point where could not hold out any longer.

I telephoned asking that I see her that evening. She made no fuss about this, and a time was set for my arrival. I think we both understood that this would be the crisis and defining moment in our relationship.

Kym was there to greet me at the door, but there was no kiss this time. We were both very tense.

Once more it was the kitchen and the chairs on either side of the wood stove, although, being a warm evening, there was no fire.

We sat in silence for some time, me not knowing how to begin, she anticipating that I had something to say to her.

Finally, Kym broke the silence.

“Aden, you asked to come and see me. Am I to take that literally – that you just want to sit here looking at me - or was there something more?”

“Something more,” I muttered.

Another long pause.

“Well, what is it Aden?”
 “I love you, Kym.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Ah!”

“Is that it, then, Aden?”

“No there’s more.”

“What more?”

“You’ve told me about you, but I haven’t told you about me.”

“You don’t need to, Aden. I accept you as you are now.”

“But that not fair…”

“Aden, you’re not arguing a case in the magistrates court now, it’s me you’re talking to. Remember me, Kym?”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Remember you? You awful woman! I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“Oh?”

“Can we get married, or something?”

“Now that, Aden, is a really romantic proposal. My immediate answer to your delicately put suggestion is, I’d rather pass on the ‘or something’, and since you are so legal, I shall say that I’m prepared to negotiate on the ‘get married’ aspect.”

“There are two aspects to this case, M’lud. First, my client, the proposee is not yet divorced, and secondly, M’lud, will the proposer also marry the proposee’s offspring?”

Picking up her mimicking caricature of the court room, I continued; “M’Lud, my client, the proposer, wishes it to be known that he is willing to await the final dissolution of the proposee’s previous marital bonds, and undertakes to provide due care and sustenance for her two female offspring.”

We both nearly fell out of our chairs laughing.

“M’lud,” Kym, barely able to get the words out through her laughter, went on, “My client the proposee accepts the proposer’s offer, and is prepared to negotiate a date for the commencement of the nuptial ceremony.”

We came into each other’s arms still laughing and tried to kiss. It took a while for this to be really successful.

Some comments by people during the weeks following our decision to marry are, I think, worth recording.

Arnold by telephone: “Damn glad old chap, damn glad. Wife and I couldn’t be more pleased.”

Phineas: “Come to your senses have you? The day you get married, you become a full partner. My wedding present to you, old son.

Emily: “Well, if she wants you, she wants you, that’s all I can say.”

Comfort Lady: “You be good to her or you’ll have me to reckon with.”

There were many other comments, but one thing I noticed there was a marked absence of the coarser remarks that often go with these occasions, even within the pub fraternity. I think this was due, not to anything about me, but a respect for “The woman at stable cottages” who had been a bit of a mystery for the town.

On the day of the wedding, the whole town seemed to turn out. The church was packed, and the street outside crowded with people who had come to see.

I had arranged with the parson an extra and special vow of which I had said nothing to Kym. It was to the effect that I would protect and accept as my own children her twins.

Kym broke down and cried, and sobs arose from the females in the congregation, and I am sure there were tears in the eyes of some of the men present.  

All that was two years ago at the time of my writing this. Six months ago Kym announced she was pregnant. It seems as if she’s programmed to have twins, because the doctor has informed us that are what is on the way.

Perhaps it will be boys this time. But no matter, either sex will do. We’ll welcome either gender.



The Woman at the Window



I staggered through the streets as I tried to keep an even pace. Another early evening run that was no easier than the first ten. No one paid attention to me, just another man trying to hold back the ravages of time with some exercise.

I had pretty much decided that the effort was not worth the trouble until that fateful day I saw her at the window. A woman talking on the phone brought my already slow pace to standstill. I stared at her like a puppy in kennel looks at a boy.

She turned and saw me. I blushed at being discovered while staring and pretended to stretch a painful limb. I became concerned because she looked at me long enough to be able to describe me to police if she so chose. 

Trying not to panic I apparently did the right thing. I smiled at her and shook my head in seeming disgust at the idiocy of jogging in the night and ran off at a leisurely pace.

I actually ran the last two blocks to my home. After a quick shower I grabbed a beer and sat to watch TV. Concentrating on the shows was impossible. I could not get the woman at the window out of my mind. I realized that I had not even noticed if she was beautiful, cute, or plain. Yet all I needed to do was close my eyes and I could see her clearly.

The next evening brought something new to me, an eagerness to hit the streets. I told myself that I had just gone over the hump and that my exercise was paying off. Deep in my brain I knew that I just wanted to catch another glimpse of her.

I slowed as I approached the window. She was not there. I slowed to a walk. I moved as slowly as possible without faking an injury. I thought I glimpsed movement at the window but a quick glance showed it to be empty. Disappointed by her absence I walked the rest of the way home.

The next day my will power was tested as I forced myself to get ready for the run. I decided I hated running. Yet somehow all the health and conditioning arguments won out. They were aided, perhaps, by the faint hope that I would see her again. 

By the time I approached her walk the fact that I had never run three days in a row had become painfully evident. I was dragging, hands on hips, out of breath, feet and back in pain. 

This evening I was not sure I wanted her by the window. I was not in the most flattering condition. She was there of course.

When she saw me she gave me a small smile and a shake of the head as if to say, “you are nuts”. She left the window before I could nod in agreement.

My body was telling me she was right. But my heart had a second picture of her and knew I would continue. Her smile could light up the sky. She was beautiful.

Running past her window became the highlight of my day. I ran everyday. She was accomplishing more than any amount of will power or trainer could have. I began to make physical progress. Running became easier.

I had done some snooping and found out that her name was Debby. She was a teacher and much to my delight, single.

I would see her at the window only two or three times a week. Sometimes she would appear to take notice of my passing but most of the time she would not. 

My heart was telling me she knew when I was there. My mind disagreed.

About the fourth week of my regimen I found I had to leave my home a bit later at night. Work had piled up and my daydreams of her did not help get it done. This was serendipity. At this later hour Debby was often standing by the window talking on the phone.

It was a Sunday night when my world changed. I saw her as I approached and was elated as usual to see her. As I got closer I saw that she was wearing only a towel. Debby had apparently answered a call while in the shower. I came to a screeching halt and stared, not believing my luck. I searched and found deep shadows that afforded a complete view through the window. My heart was beating so loudly I thought she would hear it .

She was talking animatedly with someone, probably a boyfriend. The window was partially open and I could could hear her voice. My mind was racing and could not pick up on much of what she was saying, it was simply enjoying the sound of her voice.

Debby had her back to the window when I made my approach and found the shadows. She was now standing in profile to me. I could see her down to her knees.

I saw the telephone cord brush against the towel covering her breasts once, twice, until the breast was exposed. I had to force myself to breathe.

Slowly the towel slid off her body. The sight of her magnificent breasts buried itself into my brain. I found myself with my hand grasping my manhood through my shorts, every pore of my body aroused.

Her body was the definition of a woman to me. It was soft and curvy with a pale skin that seemed to shine with its own light. Her nipples were taut and became deep red as I watched. Her pubic hair glowed with its own aura.

I became mesmerized as a watched her free hand move to a breast and caress it. A moan startled me and I was momentarily confused. Did it come from Debby or from me? 

Her hand slid down her body to the inside of her thighs and caressed them gently. She was bringing her hand closer and closer to her love mound. Debby allowed a deep sigh to escape as her hand reached the core of our universe. A slight turn in her body brought sight of her glorious pussy to me. I saw one, then two fingers disappear.

I was in a frenzy. I scanned the streets and windows to make sure neither of us was being observed. Convinced that this was a private affair I reached under my loose shorts and brought my very rigid member out of its confinement.

She began to masturbate in earnest and I followed. I increased my pace when she did, slowed when she did. I wanted to time my release with hers. I almost lost complete control when Debby brought the hand coated with her sex juices to her lips and tasted her own essence.

Soon after she resumed masturbating her moans increased in volume and frequency. So did mine. We careened towards our orgasms. Her climax was near. 

I ejaculated as she arched her back, her mouth open in silent scream. Her body trembled and I heard her gasping for air.

My release was one for the ages, depositing large puddles of my cum on her walk. Her orgasm appeared to last forever. So did mine. It took several moments before we composed ourselves. 

Debby hung up the phone, a far away look in her eyes. She never glanced out the window as she stepped away from view.

I became concerned that someone may notice my presence in the shadows. I was still holding my rapidly diminishing dick. Tucking myself back to decency I forced myself to walk home on wobbly knees.

As I reached home strange thoughts jumped into my head. I wondered what she would think if she saw the silvery white puddles on the walk outside her window.

Would she recognize them for what they were? Would she guess that she was their inspiration? Would she guess it was me?

I could not sleep that night. I masturbated twice more while replaying the most erotic experience of my life in my head.

Eventually I got out of bed, got dressed, and drove to an all hours market. It was three in the morning. I bought a dozen red roses and placed them by her front door. I left no name, no note. 

I looked to see if the evidence of my passion was still visible on the ground. I pretty much expected it would have dried up and vanished by now. Instead, the evenings humidity had added volume and an eerie glow to my cum on the walk. It was clearly visible in the moonlight.

I thought that if she truly had no idea I was watching she would never guess who the roses were from. She might even assume they were from the boyfriend with whom she was speaking on the phone.

I had an irrational whisper of hope, however, that she would guess the truth.

The week went by and I never saw Debby by the window. The lights in the room were always off. At first I thought she may be on a trip, but that was unlikely since it was normal school week. I also saw that there were lights shining elsewhere in her home. She was there.

Had Debby guessed that she was been seen pleasuring herself by the window? Was she afraid of encouraging a voyeur? A pervert?

I came to regret my rash decision to leave the roses. By the end of the week approaching her darkened window would fill me with great sadness.

It was again Sunday night. The streets were deserted as usual. As I turned the corner that led to the window I saw that again the light was off. Depression was overtaking me when I suddenly saw the light come on. 

Debby was by the window watching my approach.

My emotions piled into my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. My pace slowed to a crawl.

She was wearing only a towel. A vase with a dozen somewhat wilted red roses was sitting on the windowsill.

Every hair on my body stood upright.

Our eyes locked. I came to a standstill directly in front of her, captured by her gaze. She slowly allowed the towel to slip off her body, never taking her eyes off mine.

I froze in place, mouth agape. I was so stricken by her naked beauty that no coherent thought could enter into my head. 

I at last noticed that Debby had moved her gaze away from me. She was now looking expectantly to my left.

I followed her eyes and my heart almost burst with emotion.

Her door was open.