How much do you really love me?

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Vandals

He sees me to my car, opens the door for me and leans in the window once I've started the engine.
"See you at home?"
The drama of our life; we always seem to have two cars to drive home. "I have to make a stop on the way. But I'll be home soon."
He leans in for a chaste kiss, tells me to drive carefully. Walks to his own car.

It's after one now; we caught the last train running. I pull out onto the highway and drive a few stations back up the line. One of the main depots sits right across the road from the beach, and there's a security guard stationed overnight. When I pull up beside his car everything is quiet. There's no road noise, nothing from the tracks. Just the distant surf. It's been stormy lately.

I can see T's base; it's the carriage with all the doors shut and a filmy torchlight illuminating the windows. He brings a laptop and books to work with him, writes his thesis in between sweeps of the yard. He says that after two a.m. a kind of sixth sense takes over; footsteps crunch on gravel like loudspeaker crackle, voices carry clearly on the wind. He's fast and agile; the kids don't often outrun him and the druggies don't stand a chance. I'm not surprised that he's already walking toward my car, arms outstretched.

"Ellie! God, I've missed you so much. Isn't this like old times?"
"Hmmm. Well, I'm married, you're studying - actually, this is nothing like old times." It's exactly like old times; this is the way we tease each other into a softness. The camaraderie belies the urgency of our bodies. Whoever said attraction is magnetic wasn't lying.

"Come on.  I made camp early tonight." He grabs my hand and marches me across to the dead train. My shoes weren't made for loose gravel, and I have to tiptoe geisha steps until T. impatiently sweeps me up across his chest and carries me up to the door.

I'd thought he'd left a torch on the floor, but he can still surprise me. Candles. Tiny tealights. Perhaps a hundred of them; they're barely diminished when the draft from the door shocks a few out.
I didn't realise I was holding my breath until he hops up behind me and pulls me up from the floor. "Shall we dance?"
"You said it was a waste of time."
"No, I said learning to dance was a waste of time. Actually dancing with you, on the other hand, is more of an investment. Nearly as good as foreplay. In fact, I think it may count as foreplay."

Our banter's the real foreplay. "So, your thesis attempts to address the complexity of the female psyche now?"
"No, I'm looking at the simple parts."
"Short thesis then."

He pinched me lightly, a hint of reproof in his grin. "Now, now, you like to make yourselves out to be incredibly complicated creatures, but we all know how much the simple things matter. Reliable shopping companions, non-chip nail polish, the perfect red lipstick..."

He held me more tightly to him as I thumped his shoulder roughly, laughing "Bastard!"
"Which, by the way, I notice you're not wearing. Although there seem to be some rather stunning suspenders at work under this skirt. Very fetching."
He'd taken advantage of our clinch to ruffle my skirt upwards and do a little exploring.
"And silk, too. I do like the way you're so robustly feminist about most things."
"Because suspenders and stilettos are so inhibiting, I'm absolutely bound and gagged and unable to function."
"Shut up and kiss me."

Monday, October 19, 2009

Carparks aren't just for cars.

I shrieked a little when he pushed me back against the car. The condensation hit my sweaty skin like a slap, and he dug his thumbs up under my ribs as his palms held me against the freezing metal. In a second the cold was overridden by heat; his mouth crushing my neck, chest hard against my breasts.

All I'd done was tilt my head to gaze up into the inky sky; all the warning he gave was a choked "Oh, I really want..." and then he lunged, pinning me.

His thigh was hard up against my pelvis and I shifted, looking for a hint of more friction. His urgency falling upon my neck had sent a rush of blood straight to my treacherous nipples, and now my clitoris was in on the game and screaming for attention.

"Nonono," he breathed into my neck, dropping a line of kisses down my shoulder and grazing teeth along my naked collarbone. "Can't have you doing that." He arched his body away from me and left me hanging, wanting.

One hand came up and traced a line from my forehead down my nose and across my upper lip. WIth a flick of my head I had his finger between my teeth and bit down hard. He grinned. I rolled the top of my tongue across his fingerprint and felt him moan deep in his diaphragm. "Mmm. Not so tough now." He smiled and placed his fingertip against my mouth. I lifted a leg and wrapped it around his waist, pulling him back into me. He was properly hard now.

Friction.
I took his finger into my mouth again, feeling it bump past my molars, fluttering my tongue along it. Not a terribly subtle hint, but I could feel myself wetter and hotter and ready. His left hand dropped from my ribs and I took the opportunity to reach past the waistband of his trunks and slide a finger along his erection, hot and smooth like wet velvet. His head dropped back to my neck and he murmured a long growl of arousal, coming close and sliding his hand under my raised thigh. Damn pencil skirts. Where's my Geisy Arruda mini when I need it?

His fingertips found the edge of my underwear and brushed against my swollen labia, straining insistently towards his pressure - all the encouragement he needed to drop to his knees and push my skirt up with both hands so he could nuzzle my heat and scent rising off tissue-thin fabric.He pulled my right leg around his shoulders so I was almost astride his body and snuck a finger inside my pants, revelling in the sudden moisture that opened under his touch.

I threw my head back against the passenger window; my hips grinding uncontrollably to bring his mouth in proximity to my clitoris. Suddenly he was inside me, two fingers massaging me, thumb playing over the hood of my clitoris, mouth nipping and teasing on either side of the main attraction. Oh, god.

Three fingers, thrusting and rubbing, making me rock back and forth in some kind of effort to keep up. His mouth was all around me now, sucking and fellating. His tongue rolled lazily across my trigger in just the same way that I'd teased his finger...
Once, back and forth, sending little warning jolts and starting a spasm in my thighs. Twice and the feeling spread through my torso.

He paused, stroked a little more deeply and found the base of my cervix, hardening and lowering as I ground my way to orgasm. Three. Oh my fucking god. I dug my fingers tightly into the base of his skull and felt him swallowing as I came in a brilliant, impudent rush of clenching muscles and convulsive clutching.

He held me upright from his kneeling position for a second then stood and wrapped me close in his arms.
"You're like a rock," I whispered, feeling him against my hip.
"And you're like a river. And now we're going home to finish this off properly."

Sunday, October 11, 2009

She works hard...

Seven-day weeks at the moment; not a lot of downtime. However, there may have been a lull yesterday in which I caught up with the ex of my teenage years. We were together ten years ago and a lot of time's rattled past since then.

There was a second where he looked me in the eye and said quietly "I'm not sure I ever knew you." This, from the guy who gently stole my virginity by degrees, who coaxed forth my first orgasm. We pushed our teenage selves so far together, decadent and unashamedly hedonistic... and a decade later he decides he never knew me? I should be clear: we weren't just about sex.

This boy and I never ran out of things to talk about. We never stopped dreaming up ways to rule the world. We'd be awake at four in the morning still drawing, writing, creating, dreaming. I thought I told him everything, but perhaps he wasn't listening.

There was another second, just after I said "But of course! You find adoration irresistible!" when I thought he was going to lunge across the table, hands clawing for my neck, and we would break each other again. He began - "How DARE you?!" only quieted when I - apparently unpeturbed - reached for my glass of red and sipped demurely.
Wrongfooted because he couldn't deny it, and oh, how he stumbled, trying to climb back up.

I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect the suggestion of my toes sliding lasciviously along his inner thigh may have upset his balance a little. He schooled me altogether too well.
We left, I drove: that too a blast of nostalgia, back to the days when I had a license and he didn't.

Back at his flat, I knew what was coming. The cliche just slipped out. "Would you like to come in for coffee?"
"That's so kind of you, but really I must keep going."
"Sure?"
He asked for it.
"Actually, I'm meant to be somewhere... now, pretty much."
Confusion, loud and clear.
"I thought.... J's away? You said.."
"Yep. He is. And I have somewhere else to be."
Suddenly he realised; the immaculate hair, my perfect scarlet mouth and kamikaze heels were never for him.
"Bye, darling. It was so nice to catch up. See you again soon."
I left a pale brand on his left cheekbone and drove away humming.

Stupid boy. It was never for him. It's just not always for someone else, either.