Thursday 6 August 2015

A little story I wrote....

The scene, I think a bar, crome fittings and fixtures mixed with old leather sofas, spot lighting casting shawdows and the buzz of the voices drowned out by their similar tones. I sit with the classic little black dress which makes me confident, primed and secure.

The rum which seemed so harsh earlier feels soft on my tongue, my throat, and my chest. Whilst thinking about how I look, feel, I trace the rum slide into myself, down my throat. I feel it warm and soft inside me, its been a while since I let myself go... freed my soul to something, something inside taking control of me.

The room is warm which makes me feel at ease, the short hem line feel neither revealing nor inappropiate, I think about my legs and think how I miss them being touched.

He has yearned for me, to be inside me for so long, yet at such a distance. He has seemed to creep in to my mind, caressed my soul, sparked my imagination, yet at a distance which kept me in doubt. Its like a curse now, a dangerous ride for a thrill seeker who isn't, but for when I speak to him. The phone spins in my hand in anticipation, the source of all the misery and fun. People walk in, and out, look at me and smile. not knowing which one, who it may be, I sigh, my chest raises and squeezes against the neck line. and I wait. Each idea of him sends me distracted, I'm moist already, distracted myself by thoughts of the conversation, the talk, the sounds of slow, deep breaths.

Suddenly the phone vibrates in my hand, and I jump as if startled by a shock of something impossible, my thumb stumbles nervously. "Hi" I say "hi its me" and I take a deep breath before I stumble on any other words. "Sorry, I cant come, held up in traffic, have you been drinking?".

Dissappointed but still with my heart beating, unsure to be relieved or sad, I simply reply "yes, i am slightly drunk, for dutch courage i mean".

"We are going to play a game, I want you to be a good girl, will you be good" the voice comes over the phone, soft, low and confident. "Yes" I reply. "I want you to have fun, have sex on the phone, now. will you". The reply, again, simply "yes".

The conversation starts, like before, but with both the sheer fear and excitment of the exposue, the people in the bar. It always felt like sex - real sex. This was whilst people walked past, whilst some stared.

After a while, I'm asked to put my coat over my lap, and then to rub my knees together slowly, whilst he talks. "Remember when you were young, and have never been touched?" he whispers "be like that for me tonight". and I think about it, when I was scared, and how I am scared now. The nervousness only fuels my legs, moving together in synchrony. My pants are wet and feel unconfortable against my legs. "you're a good girl, and a beautiful one" he says. "I wish I could wake up next to you, how do you feel?". moaning gently, I say that I wish he was here, to touch my soft skin. He askes where and as I sip the rum, and follow the line with my finger again. "everywhere".

Its ten minutes now, I'm hot and wet and embarrassed, I have had a few looks which have melted away by the distraction of a sports game on the television, I have privacy in the confusion. its just as well as my privacy has little else, when he whispers "Hand under coat, touch yourself!".

"I cant.. I am in" I start but snapped back "now or I hang up!" come the interruption. I meekly say no, but do it. moaning gently, out of my control, I whisper "why are you here". "What for?" he replies.

"to kiss me" I moan

"where?" he asks, louder, clearer

without an answer I touch my neck, without a word I hear "here?" and the lips kiss my neck, followed by a gentle and a single white rose falling on my lap....