The drums continued to thunder and fireworks lit up the night sky, as Lucas and Paulo led Sapphire hand in hand away from the crowd. Her head was spinning from the cachaca she had drunk. Its taste was still sweet in her mouth. “Where are you taking me, guys?” she asked with a giggle.
“We’re going to show you what Carnival is all about,” said Paulo with a grin. Lucas laughed along with him.
“Well you guys should know. You’re both such cool drummers,” she smiled. “I wish I could have taken part in the parade.”
“You look as hot as any of those girls,” Lucas told her, making her blush.
“No I don’t. You’re just saying that,” she laughed.
“A beautiful curvy girl like you?” said Paulo. “In that tiny costume? You’re the one we want to hang out with.”
Sapphire laughed with pleasure at their compliments. She looked about mystified as the two oiled muscular guys led her into a grove of palm trees. “What are we doing here?” she asked. “I thought we were going for something to eat.”
“We’ll give you something to eat,” said Paulo.
“Yes,” Lucas agreed. “We’re going to fill you up real well.”
Good grief, Neely thought. Her sense of shock on reading Odyssey of Lust had subsided from the first time, but her amazement at its heroine remained. This moneyed girl had been travelling the world for several months by chapter seven, yet had lost none of her propensity for getting into the same kind of trouble. There was no learning curve at work. Wherever Sapphire went she demonstrated an unerring tendency to slip up and land on cock. Here in Rio, for example. The girl had slicked herself in oil, then dusted her whole body with glitter, before going dancing in the carnival crowd wearing nothing but a gold-link bikini studded with rubies. She had danced herself into a sweat with a pair of barely-clad samba drummers and was about to be surprised that they were planning to fuck her. Utterly ludicrous. Which did not stop Neely turning the page to find out what happened next. It was predictable.
The two Brazilian hunks removed their extravagant feathered headdresses and closed in before and behind Sapphire, their hard sweaty torsos pressing against her skin. She gasped as they both unfastened their feathered tribal skirts to reveal thongs that bulged and stretched with their huge hard-ons. Her pussy moistened as she realized that it was going to happen all over again, only this time with two strapping well-endowed men. All she could do was go with the flow.
“Get down on your knees, beautiful lady,” smiled Paulo. She did, her moist flesh sliding against the two robust male bodies as she sank down to the ground.
“Go on,” Lucas encouraged her with a mischievous laugh. Once again Sapphire felt very far from home. She plucked the satin thongs away from the heads of both cocks and the guys’ long rigid poles sprang out and bobbed before her face, ready and waiting. She knew what these guys wanted and that they were going to get it.
“Pity you didn’t think of that when you were shaking your booty in front of them, you daft bimbo,” Neely muttered, but she followed the bimbo’s progress nonetheless.
Sapphire seized the two massive cocks by the base and began to massage them, her hands sliding back and forth easily along the lengths with the sweat of the hot Rio evening. Lucas and Paulo laughed and groaned with pleasure. Sapphire took the bulging cock-heads into her mouth in turn, swirling her tongue around them and then sucking the throbbing meat-rods deeper, while she continued to masturbate the guys and fondle their swollen balls. They tasted salty and were leaking pre-cum all over her tongue.
“That’s it, that’s very good,” said Lucas, as she sucked on him. He ran his hand through her long brunette locks and pulled her further down onto him. Paulo did she same thing when she returned to him, making her feel the huge veiny shaft in the back of her throat. She gagged and dribble ran down her chin when he pulled her off his dick.
They both gripped her under her arms and raised her to her feet. She stood helpless, her eyes wide and amazed, as they removed her skimpy jewelled brassiere and pulled her jingling panties down her thighs. Lucas molded his hands around her orbed bosoms and his friend molested her ass, slapping his hand to the cleft of her cheeks and thrusting his finger between them till it stroked her asshole. She gasped again with astonishment.
“Still the astonishment. Good grief, girl, you obviously enjoy it, so stop making such a fuss.” Neely could not quite believe what she had muttered.
“So who will fuck this beauty first?” asked Paulo.
“You, my friend,” replied Lucas. “But she can still give us both pleasure.” He braced Sapphire as Paulo bent her over at the waist. She felt Lucas’ stiff cock batting against her face, as Paulo fitted his pulsing glans to the swollen lips of her cunt and began to push. Oh dear goodness. Neely held her breath as she always did at such crucial literary moments. Sapphire gasped as Paulo slid his thick shaft inside her. Then he gripped her ripe ass and began to pound her hard, filling her up on every stroke. His balls bounced off her cheeks as he slapped against her. “This is the sort of rhythm I like to beat out!” he yelled to his friend as he shafted her. “Against a nice big beautiful ass, as I fuck a tight pussy!”
“I hear you, my friend!” replied Lucas, as he gripped Sapphire by the hair and shoved his sturdy cock back inside her mouth. He held her with both hands and rammed his entire length to the back of her throat. “Ohhh shit, I love Carnival!” he cried, as he sawed his length in and out of her spluttering mouth.
“So do I!” shouted Paulo over the noise of music and fireworks, as he continued to deliver hard strokes deep into Sapphire’s cunt. “Life gets no better than this!”
The dancing and celebration continued mere feet away, as Sapphire felt herself filled up at both ends by the hard dicks of these two lust-crazy guys. Once again she was having a whole different kind of party.
Party. That was what Ray was planning for her. Neely wondered how often he had used the word as euphemism for sex. But her man (how delicious to call him that) was reforming himself, so she had nothing to worry about. And the fact that he was going to make no move on her was not to be regretted on this, her twenty-fifth birthday. Not remotely. Despite the fact that Sapphire was now taking two cocks at a time, while Neely had yet to experience one.
Damn that bloody book.
Neely was positively blasé now in how she picked it up and leafed through a few more pages every day. Took her erotic hit. “We must be single-minded in our pursuit of holiness,” the pastor would say, and he was right. Because as she set aside Odyssey of Lust and proceeded to her room to prepare for the evening, her pussy was throbbing from all those smut-words and the images they conjured. Images she could ill-afford in the company of a hot real-life guy.
In her room she paused, then retrieved Jasmine’s and Leo’s birthday gift from where she had stowed it under towels in the bottom drawer the moment she got home. Taking it out of the box she examined its bizarre shape, running fingers over the surface to feel the silicone texture. So not like a cock, the colour and gentle contours somehow friendly and fun. A recreational item, far from the seediness she had always associated with sex-toys. To be enjoyed in the privacy of one’s home—a modern woman’s liberating plaything.
She experimented, touching one of the controls so that the power-tool hummed into life. The vibrations were curious under her fingers, she could feel them travelling to the tip of the main bulbous head, transferring to the smaller one in the circular motion Jasmine had described. The current in the vibrator triggered a shock of excitement in Neely’s brain; she imagined the sensations transferring to elsewhere in her body and switched off the device hurriedly, returning toy to box and box to drawer in brief seconds. She stared at the drawer a moment, almost expecting the gadget to start buzzing again on its own like in some comedy-horror. Then she took a calming breath and set about prettifying herself for Ray.
All her innocent preparations that afternoon had new and guilty associations. She had trimmed her pubic hair before, but did she have some ulterior reason for doing so today? Maybe she should have left it a tangle of red, like Bridget Jones wearing her ‘big knickers’, one more reason to keep her clothes on. Was there any need to soap her body quite so luxuriously in the shower? To linger at all on her private zones, since she was going to keep them private? To cup the squeezable handfuls of her breasts, considering how they made up for lack of volume in their pretty pertness?
And after the shower, why brush out her flaming locks with quite so much care? Why shave her legs again when they were still smooth from the day before? It wasn’t as though her powder-blue summer dress was going to be sliding off them that evening, pooling around her on the floor. Gosh, she shouldn’t really be wearing her ‘sexy number’ at all. Or the darker blue lacy bra and panty set beneath them. Ray was endeavouring to be a good boy, more than deejay Brian ever had, so she shouldn’t be testing his resolve with such an alluring outfit.
“Vanity, vanity …” She checked herself in the mirror with a reproving grimace. “All is vanity.”
So what if she dressed up on her birthday? Applied some bronze lippy and sprayed a mist of the Givenchy (a present from Layla) around her modest cleavage? She was girl-next-door, not red-carpet-stunner. She was scarcely going to drive Ray into a lustful frenzy.
Get a grip, Neely.
“Looking good enough to eat, girl,” Jasmine said as she waited for her taxi. “How does he not jump on you?” Not what she needed to hear.
It was seven when the cab dropped her off at Ray’s end terrace in Clifton. His greeting was not a lustful frenzy. It was a controlled breath-extracting smooch with lashings of tongue and full body-contact. When he set her back on the floor, she thought her knees might buckle. “Birthday kiss,” he explained, as she tried to refocus. “It won’t happen again. Unless either of us comes up with a good pretext. Which we probably will, because we’re both smart people. You look stunning, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She giggled like an adolescent once more as he led her through to the kitchen, where pots were bubbling gently on the stove.
“Sit down, let me pour you a glass of wine.” The bottle of Sauvignon blanc was already open. He poured a large glassful and pressed it into her hand before she could object. Well, he had instructed her to take that taxi after all, so what else could she expect?
“This is your night,” he insisted. “All you’re to do is sit back and let it happen.”
It was comforting to perch on a kitchen bar stool, legs demurely crossed, as Ray busied himself at the stove. He looked most presentable in blue jeans and maroon shirt undone to the second button. “First time I’ve seen you do your Heston Blumenthal impersonation,” she said happily, the wine warming her stomach.
“And it’s the first time I’ve tried this recipe,” he told her as he stirred. “So there you are. It’s an evening of firsts.”
“Re-creating a Medieval banquet are you?”
“No, just cooking tagliatelle. Experimenting with a new sauce though. Taste test?”
She opened wide as he fed the spoon into her mouth. Pesto with pine nuts and added sexiness. “Mmm … delicious.” She might have meant him, standing so close as she supped. His non-seduction was vastly more seductive than the attempts of any church-based guy to feel her up.
He chatted as he cooked, recounting his day and drawing her out on her own. She described it cheerily, omitting reference to sex-toys, erring ex-pastors and naughty novels. She was pampered, her glass topped up regularly and samples of food popped into her mouth. “Here, I got this Brie at the market earlier, it’s so creamy.” Her body goosebumped when he nuzzled her on each feeding foray. Her filmy dress swished against her legs as she shifted position to receive. It felt good to get a little drunk on her birthday with a man she trusted as much as she fancied. What a relief to abandon control, knowing there was no real danger.
She sat down to dinner with her charming host and personal chef, enjoying being there amid the masculine ash furnishings of his open-plan. David Gray was agonising tunefully on the stereo and candles were alight to supplement the fading daylight. They began with stuffed peppers—this man did courses!—and went to work on a second bottle of Sauvignon with their pasta.
“And he can cook as well,” Neely said in wonder. “If only you’d get in touch with your spiritual side …” Then you’d be Mr Righteous as well as Mr Right.
“I’m in touch with someone who’s in touch with her spiritual side, won’t that do for now?” Candlelight danced about his finely crafted features as he gazed at her.
“Yeah,” she said, returning his gaze more boldly than she normally allowed herself. “It’ll do fine.”
As they ate and drank, they chatted about writers who inspired them, about places he had been, and she wanted to go, about his rationalism and her faith. Never had their differences seemed less of a problem, such was his attention and respect. And maybe it was somewhat to do with the wine. The whole evening had a lulling quality. She felt sexy and able to show it. To tease her hair and give him the full emerald blaze of her eyes.
Her face was numb from alcohol by the time they reached the final course. “I don’t do dessert,” he apologised, returning from the kitchen with two plates, “not like you serve at the café. So I resorted to Bailey’s cheesecake.”
“Very disappointing. You’re really not trying.” She leaned across the table to kiss him on the lips before her first delicious forkful.
After dinner as they lazed on his rug, backs propped up against his sofa, he delved under a cushion to produce her presents. The first came with an instruction. “You’re not to open this till you get home. Otherwise you’ll get totally the wrong idea about my intentions tonight. It’s a luxury item, but it’s for you to enjoy on your own.”
Oh God, not another vibrator. She almost snorted with laughter at her funny thought before dismissing it. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Neely blushed and beamed at his consideration. “These, however …”
The second item was a box-set—ornate hard-bound volumes of Lewis Carroll’s Alice books. She caught her breath as she leafed through them, admiring the original ink illustrations of her favourite childhood novels encased in such sumptuous bindings. She threw her arms around Ray and kissed his face as he was setting about her smaller final gift. Inside the velvet case she found a tiny gold cross on a chain of fine gold.
“Is this appropriate?” he asked tentatively.
“It’s beautiful. And it’s totally appropriate.”
“Can I put it on you?”
“Mm-hm.” There was something overpoweringly intimate in how he brushed back her hair and hooked the chain at the back of her neck, so that the cross trickled down her cleavage.
“God …” He said it almost prayerfully as the necklace settled about her. “It’s so, so difficult.”
“What is?” Neely was anaesthetised by several glasses of wine, but still unnerved by his tone. That and the brush of his fingertips on the back of her neck. Worry which had lain at bay over several dates came surging back and his next words fuelled the sensation.
“Being good to my word with you looking so damn gorgeous.”
Oh God, oh Lord, help me, help me now, please. “But you will keep your word, won’t you?” Like she was pleading for mercy.
“I will,” he said, after the heaviest of pauses.
She succumbed at his assurance to a long searching tongue-kiss, the fingers of one hand light on her face, those of the other toying with the cross that newly dangled at her chest. Her body gave in to him as she had not allowed since the evening at her own place. Her fingers traced the contours of his face as he held her, then combed back through his immaculately groomed hair. He tasted of wine and smelled of Remus Uomo and he was making voiceless aching noises in the back of his throat which told all she needed to know regarding his level of desire. The sensory combination threatened to blot out rational thought, but she trusted to Ray’s honour and went where he took her.
All residual tension Ray smoothed from her with strokes back and forth on the curve of her waist. She was crushed against him now, half-lying across his broad chest, his palm reaching down to caress her hip. Their kiss was endless—passion filtered through tenderness and slowly, relentlessly filling her up. She was aware as never before of his physical strength, the power he might exert should he choose to. Her dress was flimsy, her underwear scant wisps of lace—negligible barriers between this man and her naked flesh. Alcoholic fumes were clouding her thought, obscuring God and morality and Pastor Simmons’ disapproving stare, as her body wrestled in slow-motion with his. Her hand was casually exploring the pectoral swell beneath his shirt; his hand had come to rest on her upper thigh, where it gently massaged.
He struggled for comfort and hauled his upper back up against the sofa, somehow drawing her with him as he moved, so that she ended up stretched above him. She shifted for her own comfort and ended up straddling his pelvis. With a shock she realised that her dress was splayed all about her, the fork of her crotch resting on his groin with only a thin lacy sheath separating her from that hard bulge in his denim. It would have been so easy to move, to shift into a position less intimate and vulnerable, but she did not. She did not sufficiently want to.
He drew her face to his once more and the fronds of her red hair draped all over him as they kissed. The rhythm of their mouths transferred to their bodies and Neely found herself moving back and forth on him just perceptibly. She could not think for sure who had initiated the movement or whether it was him alone who sustained it. The undulation of their lips fuelled the motion, caused it to build, until she became aware of something else—the phantom sensation of her wet, budding clitoris rubbing against his erect cock.
I should stop this, I should stop this, I should stop this … She was thinking it in rhythm with their movement. “I’m … I’m not hurting you?” she asked, her breath shallow.
“Not at all, babe,” he assured. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh …” On one level she was very okay, on another, not. She went with the part that was okay, tasting his mouth all over again, her new necklace trailing down to tease his partially bared chest and the sweet spine-tingling friction continuing between them. A dress strap fell free of her shoulder and she let it hang there, allowing him to view more cleavage. When he played with her hair and stroked her lips with his thumb, she wanted to push aside the other strap too, to tease him, but how could she? Not after the restrictions she had put in place. She let him brush the upper flesh of her bosom with the back of his hand, however, and run his finger along the lacy edge of her bra. And all the while she tried not to think of the wet needy hollow between her legs and the means he had to plug it.
“You don’t know what you do to me, Neely.” The breathiness in his voice made her nipples stand out harder than they had already done. “I can hardly stand it.”
“Ray… Ray…” Neely pleaded. She must be the biggest prick-tease she knew and hated that thought. “You know I can’t, right?” There was regret in her voice at what she couldn’t have, but desire enough to let him know she did not want this to stop.
“I know,” he said, as he rocked her gently on himself, and his understanding almost made her want to cry. “But there’s something else I’d like to do for you, Neely. Because it’s your birthday and because you deserve it. If you’ll let me.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips and stared into her eyes.
“What do you want to do?” Her words contained less “tell me” than “show me” and she knew it. Ray recognised it too, because he eased her off him and clambered after, till they were kneeling together. Then he raised her up by the waist and guided her till she was seated giddily on the edge of the sofa. Neely stared at him from her perch, confused, scared and wanting. Wanting to know…
“Ray … Ray, what are you …?” The fingers of both his hands were stroking their way up her thighs under cover of her dress. The higher they reached, the more shallow her breathing. This kind of thing kept happening to Sapphire, the fictional heroine she derided. Yet here she was, letting it play out the same way. Ray’s eyes were fixed on hers, questioning at every instant whether she wanted him to stop. His fingers arrived at her hips and closed around the band of her panties. Now was the time to speak, but she said nothing—nothing as he tugged the lace slowly apart from her wet sex, nothing as he drew the sodden fabric all the way down her legs, finally to disentangle it from her ankles.
The sensation of air on Neely’s pussy was shock enough, without Ray sliding her dress upwards to expose her completely. Her mind was a storm of guilt and desire, fear and need. She could not believe she was being so intimately uncovered before his face. And somewhere in the melee of emotions was relief that she had trimmed the excesses of her red pubic thatch. Ray was reaching under her bottom so he could peel the dress’s skirt away from her tender cheeks and crush it into a band about her waist. He was slowly parting her legs, then gazing avidly on the chaste secret she had kept stored away between them. She seized the arm of the sofa and stared as he moved in, tongue wetting his lips slightly in sweet anticipation. It was sinfully thrilling to be open before him, nothing between her and his tongue but diminishing spacial inches.
The tip flickered on her, right on her scared bud. She gasped as tendrils of sensation shot all though her body, her free hand shooting out to support herself against the back of the sofa. His expertise as he slithered back and forth over her nub and the thought that he was doing it at all immobilised her with a delicious shock. She clutched the sofa and stared at his face as he tongued, feeling it keenly right through to her nipples as he swirled in circles about her, lashed back and forth, worked her like he had found her control-mechanism. Apparently he had. She made no protest (the air was trapped in her lungs) as he slid his palms under her bare thighs to clasp and cradle her buttocks. Then his tongue dived inside her.
Neely cried out at the intrusion, but not to halt him. She could not think to do that. He had retracted again before she knew it and was gliding up and down her swollen-lipped entrance, teasing her clitoris, keeping her whole body stoked with fire. Then he slipped down and plunged inside again, lapping hungrily this time, exploring all her inner walls with a curling motion, before thrusting deep. He was gripping her hard, staring, his gaze not letting her go. Look at me, Neely, his eyes were saying, look at me. This is what I can make you feel … The thick muscle of his tongue was flexing and retracting, licking all around her pulsing button again, before it resumed its back-and-forth surge inside her.
This birthday gift Ray had saved till last and he took special delight in the giving. He loved her taste and texture—she could see it in his eyes. But he was feeding more off her excitement, the conquering of all her trepidation. This man could read her body and he lapped harder, intent burning in his eyes. He knew a wave was building inside her, one that would break soon. How he would relish her pleasure as she came for the first time in the presence of any man, all over his driving tongue. That in itself would be a kind of deflowering. He was hard for her too, she knew, primed to thrust his erect maleness where his tongue was now. And if he deflowered her one way, why not another? If she let him do this, then why not … why not …
Neely’s Christian instincts were deeper-rooted than Ray’s tongue could go. The new thought kicked her conscience back into full operation. It cut through inebriation and lust and in an instant she had wrested back control. “No, no, please, Ray, I can’t!” Her hand was on his head, urging him away from her; the need to climax receded like an ebbing flood-tide, leaving her shocked and wildly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t.” She pulled down her dress with one hand, trying to drag it back over her naked ass.
Ray withdrew completely, a curling red hair stuck disconcertingly on his tongue. “It’s okay,” he assured, plucking the hair away, and he actually helped her to tug the dress back down into place. “It’s all right. It’s what you want, babe, whatever you want.” He stroked her face and hair.
His concern endeared him to her all over again, even in her confusion. “Ray, hold me, hold me, please.” He did, sitting next to her and wrapping his arms tight, rocking her as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. It was comforting to drink in his affection, to know that he wanted her more than sexually. That he could accept her in spite of all her inner wrangles.
“You must think I’m such an awful tease,” she moaned.
“I don’t. I think you’re lovely.”
“You do?”
“Yes, as long as you don’t get all freaked out and tell me you don’t want to see me again. You’re not freaked, are you?”
“No, no I’m not,” she lied. “And of course I’ll want to see you again.” That part at least she meant. She enjoyed his cradling a while longer, then broached a delicate subject. “Ray, can I put my knickers back on?” Had that really come out of her mouth? She gave a brief hysterical giggle having said it.
Ray diverted his eyes as she wriggled back into her panties. Gosh, still a gentleman, fresh from having his tongue inside her. “Maybe I should call you a taxi,” he suggested. “Bit too much for one evening.” She nodded, relieved. She wasn’t sure how much more proximity she could deal with.
They cuddled again while she waited for the cab. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I wanted you to have an extra gift.”
“It was a lovely gift.” Maybe the most lovely I’ve ever had. She was light-headed at confessing this truth to herself and willed the cab to arrive.
On leaving she hugged Ray hard, as if that could resolve the broil of her emotions. In the back of the taxi she allowed the memory of their intimacy to come rushing back. Her brand new boyfriend, so tender and so skilled, so hot for her. Pushing nothing, yet taking so ravenously what she had offered. No, that was wrong—she hadn’t offered, had she? She’d gone along with what came naturally. And a boundary of such huge significance had collapsed like a child’s sandcastle.
He called her mobile when she’d scarcely got through the door and she answered like she was suffering withdrawal. “Ray?”
“Hey babe, just wanted to check you were okay.”
“Yes, yes I’m fine.” She could feel herself flush with gratitude combined with raw new memories. “I’m good. I’m …”
“You have a nice birthday?”
“I had the best birthday. I had a really really lovely birthday.” God help her, it was true.
“Don’t forget that first present, Neely J.”
The one he had forbidden her from opening in his presence. Like she could have forgotten for an instant. “I won’t, sweetheart. I’ll open it in my room.”
“Do. And take care. You’re beautiful, birthday-girl.”
“Thank you. You are too, Ray. Bye.”
She settled on her mattress, unwrapped the gift of its gold coverings and pored over the scented oils within—vanilla and musk, sandalwood, orange and freesia. Images were summoned to her fevered mind of hands on naked skin, massaging, smoothing, skating over slippery surfaces. Her hands on him, exploring that hard-muscled body—the one she had still properly to see—in lingering strokes. His hands on her, easing and squeezing away all her tension before gripping tight and claiming her heated flesh …
Neely’s nipples were hard once more, pussy aching for relief she had denied herself an hour before. Casting away restraint she fell back onto the bed, plucking up her dress and squirming her hand into her panties to supply what her throbbing clitoris needed. She was already at work on herself when she remembered it—her other present. The one from Jasmine and Leo. Exactly what she needed now.
She rushed to her chest of drawers and foraged in the bottom one until she found it, the purple and white play-toy which came to life at the touch of a button. For a moment she sat on the bed staring at its surface, listening to the steady thrum. Then she did what that morning she’d been sure she never would—tear down her panties and place the vibrator’s blunt tip to her swollen clitoris.
Neely knew she wasn’t using it right, but she didn’t care. She wanted those vibrations to buzz her into a frenzy, spreading sensation through all her feminine parts and thence to the rest of her body. Helping her relive the thrill of Ray’s tongue on her and in her. Oh my. Jasmine’s sex-toy worked well. The merest touch set her aflame, brought it all back. The thrash of his muscle, the clutch of his hands. That hot breath searing the lips of her pussy…
It brought her to the crisis-point fast, and this time, without the intimacy of Ray’s face thrust between her legs, she let it happen. Her whole body ignited as though paraffin ran through her veins. She blazed with glorious orgasm, fierce, long and sinful, her body shuddering on the bed all the while, and in that moment she was giving herself to her gorgeous boy. She imagined him, taking her any way he damn-well wanted. When the fire had burned itself out she lay on the bed delirious and despairing, the sex-device still buzzing on the duvet beside her. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye towards the bed’s surface.
“Sorry Lord,” she moaned, sinking into a post-coital mire of guilt and failure. “Sorry, so sorry. What am I going to do? Please Lord, what am I going to do? I think … I think I love him.”
There was a knocking on the door and she panicked, straightening her clothing and sitting up on the bed. “Yes?” She thought she had managed an ‘indisposed’ sort of tone, but Jasmine opened up and peered around anyway.
“Hey, Neely.” Her pretty Anglo-Thai friend surveyed her and her surroundings with the eye of a practised detective. It occurred to Neely too late that the vibrator was still busy next to her on the bed. Jasmine shook her head with a sad frown. She appeared to have worked out much about the evening past.
“God, girl, I don’t know who’s going to go mad first. You or him.”
~~~~
24/06/10 22:23 GMT
Okay, Carlotta. How do I tell you this? I appear to have followed up Birthday Night’s tour de force with something of a blunder.
The tongue-action hadn’t scared her off, there’d been calls and texts between us, so tonight I decided to capitalise with a surprise visit. I figured if I caught her off-guard, this could be the night. Long-shot, but worth the try. And on one level, the move paid off handsomely. I got unequivocally laid.
Thing is, it wasn’t with Neely.
As it worked out, I fucked her roommate instead. For all the breadth of my vocabulary, ‘oops’ is the word that springs to mind.
Look, it may not be a total disaster. It may not be a disaster at all, so let’s not panic. Hell, I’m on my BlackBerry here, I’ll tell you the rest when I get home.
—Ray.
24/06/10 15:27 PST
You−did−WHAT??????
TO BE CONTINUED
