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What She Wanted
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What She Wanted 'Fuck, it's weird being back here.' The man turned and looked at his wife, eyes searching for signs of comprehension in her face. She furrowed her brow and scrunched up her face before her brain solved the conundrum. 'Oh,' she said. Then grinned and playfully slapped him. Right there in middle of the fruit and vegetable section of the supermarket. No secrets they had agreed when they got married. So Jack had told her; he'd told her about his immediate previous girlfriend. Or rather, he had confirmed to her what they'd got up to; what he and his last girlfriend had done - and where they had done it. He didn't need to tell her about her, per se, because Jack's previous girlfriend, the one before he'd got married, was his wife's close friend. Jack met Sarah, his wife, through Rachael, his previous girlfriend. Apparently, according to Sarah that is, Rachael and Sarah shared a lot of secrets. A lot. As they walked through the fruits, Jack thought back to Rachael. Beautiful, quirky, individual Rachael. He'd liked her, she was truly beautiful, she was truly crazy and she was truly intelligent. Oh, and she was absolutely sex mad. A man could not really want more. Jack did want more though, or at least he wanted different. He wanted her best friend. He wanted Sarah. Sarah: beautiful Rachael's best friend; not beautiful like Rachael, but certainly attractive and most definitely very funny, with a smile that lit up her face like a firework lights the new year sky. He met Rachael one Friday in a pub after work. Normally on a Friday afternoon he'd be off to climb artificial rock faces in a disused church. This week though, the church was closed, a new rock face being put in, so he went with work to the pub just outside the office. He was waiting at the bar to get a round in: it was his round his colleagues had argued, because he never bought a round. The fact that he was never there, made no difference to the situation his workmates had laughed. Go get the round in. So there he was in the pub leaning against the bar, enjoying the coolness of the place, eyeing up the row of pumps on the heavily scarred old counter and deciding which beer to go for when she appeared beside him like a desert mirage. 'Hello,' he smiled at her without thinking. 'Hello,' she'd smiled back. Silence. He looked away, felt uncomfortable about holding this beautiful stranger's gaze. Didn't want to seem like he was staring. Which he was. He stole another glance. Man, she was beautiful. Long golden hair trailed over her thin, cotton summer dress, that hugged small pert breasts which needed no artificial support; nipples that strained against the slight material in the cool pub air, eyes that looked azzurri blue and tanned skin borne of plenty of hours under ultraviolet light ‒ whether natural or artificial. 'Ah fuck it,' he actually said out loud, 'don't suppose I can get you a drink?' She laughed: 'Oh fuck it?', she repeated a glint in her eye. 'Yeah, fuck it. You're bound to say no, but if I don't ask I might always regret it.' 'I'm bound to say no am I? Hmmm.' She rested her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hands. 'If I'm bound to say no, knowing how contrary I am, I might just have to say yes.' She thought a while with a faux puzzlement on her face then grinned. 'You know, I think you can get me a drink,' she finally said. She liked his kindly face, his lovely rich voice and cultured accent. He didn't have a bad body too she decided, as she quite openly looked him up and down. Jack wasn't sure whether to be shocked, pleased or both at being checked out by such a woman. Or by any woman for that matter. 'What's your name?' she asked him. 'Jack,' he said. 'Rachael,' she replied, holding out a hand. She held his hand with a good firm grip. As they shook she said, 'Tell me, Jack, do you like fun?' and he felt a tingle through him as he answered in the affirmative at her devilish smile. He'd taken the beers to his colleagues who'd been watching him chat to the beautiful woman and who watched with a mixture of open mouthed amazement and, in the case of his male colleagues, bare faced jealousy as he told them something had come up and he might be back later. He spent the next three hours talking to Rachael, who drank in every detail he was giving her. At times, she seemed to be interrogating him, wanting to know what he did, where he was from, what he liked, where he was educated, where and how had he grown up. She had patiently watched him, nodded where necessary, clearly hooked on what he was saying. At half past eight, she upended the remnants of her wine into her mouth, suddenly stood up and calmly told him she had to go. His stomach flipped that she was suddenly going to disappear from his life, just like that. She touched his arm and leaned closed to him. 'You're lovely, Jack, I'm going to see you again. See you at eight o'clock on Tuesday in the Lion.' He looked relieved and overwhelmed; as she kissed him on the cheek it sent a little shock though his being. She sashayed away, her peach of a backside swayed in the thin cotton dress, tiny panties visible and he grew hard at the thought of her naked. Maybe on Tuesday night he thought. Then: no, get real. She's so out of my league. I'm Kettering Town and she's Brazil ‒ we're not even in the same competition. Tuesday crawled around. The weekend, for once, seemed interminable and the first two days of the working week even more so. When Tuesday night finally arrived he was in a state of great nervous tension. The time that had crawled like a terminally injured tortoise now ran faster than an Olympic standard hare, and he was mortified when she stood up again and told him at ten o'clock she had to go. Once more she had leaned across and whispered into his ear while holding his hand, 'I still think you're lovely, Jack'. Come to my house on Friday and I shall cook for you. Come after your climbing. 57, St Thomas Drive.' 'I can miss climbing and get there earlier,' he said, rather desperately. 'No, Jack, that won't be necessary, I can wait until afterwards. Bring me some nice wine,' she said as she turned back to him and blew him a kiss. He wanted to sleep the rest of the week away. He wanted to jump into a TARDIS and materialise right then at her house on Friday. Instead though, he had to endure another three days of torture before he saw her again. Climbing finished at last on the Friday, the only time in the week where'd he'd been away from her, that had not inched its way agonisingly forward. He hammered it to her house. He'd already done a dummy run; had stopped at the end of the street. Pulling up outside her house on the dummy run would have crossed the line from desperate to stalker. He only had to find the actual house number. She answered the door in jeans and a white shirt, braless again, unbuttoned to show tantalising glimpses of her breasts when she leaned over. He was too nervous to eat, too much on tenterhooks to see whether this gorgeous female would reveal her body to him that night. Too preoccupied to take in any of her lovely house, to see the bookshelves, the tasteful décor, the lovely large kitchen/diner or the stairs that lead up to her bedroom. Dinner as finished as it ever would be, they lay on the floor, looking through her record collection, which was pretty awful. He finally found an album that wasn't too terrible and she giggled as she put it on. 'Not so keen on my taste, eh?' she teased as she lay back on the floor with him. 'No, no, it's fine,' he lied. 'You can tell me In a funny way, he hadn't been. He was too desperate just to be with this too-good-to-be-true woman. However, now he was so tantalisingly close to her, laying on the floor, lips close to hers , she had asked a question which suddenly showed she wanted him to be having a great time, that she wanted this evening to be a success as much as he did. So he kissed her. He would not have been surprised had she pushed him away and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing. She did not. She kissed back, and hard, sliding her hands down his back, on to his backside and he slid his hands to her breasts, feeling the rock hard nipples beneath her white cotton shirt. 'My nipples always got very hard when I get aroused,' she breathlessly said, breaking away from their kiss. There was a small pause as he looked into her so-blue eyes then: 'Would you like to come to my bed?' That was it. It was really that easy. He couldn't believe how simple it was and how excited he'd got. As they stood, she ran her hands down the front of his jeans. 'It would seem that it's not only my nipples that get hard when I get aroused,' she grinned wickedly. 'Come to my bed, Jack.' So he did. She pushed him to the bed and told him to lie back. He was clay to be moulded and she was the artist. She undid his shoes and socks, then slid off hers, knelt aside his body and inched her way up him until her groin was near to his. She lowered herself so she could rub herself along his erection and kiss him at the same time, her short staccato breaths a symphony in his disbelieving ears . She held his head in her hands and told him to enjoy her body. He needed no further invitation. She leaned back as she knelt over him, like a sex-craved princess over her subject; she She pulled herself up a little, bade him to continue with both hands on her nipples and, in a tangle of arms, started to undo his shirt until she could pull it aside and reciprocate his previous action, her hand along his flat stomach, her tongue training around his nipples. He was painfully hard, as aroused as he could ever remember and he pulled her down again, to push his tongue into her mouth, to drag his teeth along her tongue, entwine his tongue with hers; he found his breathing get heavier in tandem with hers. He pushed her off, and she lay back on the bed with a huge lustful smile on her beautiful face. He lifted her bottom after he'd undone her trousers so he could slide them down her slim legs and reveal a pair of pink panties with a small pattern just above where her clitoris would be waiting for his tongue. He kissed her silky smooth legs, moved down to her feet, taking her toes in his mouth which made her groan contentedly and involuntarily lift her backside off the bed again. He slid his hands up Rachael's perfectly tanned legs and started moving his way back up them, so to slide his hands under her panties to feel her arse. Again she lifted herself closer to him, so as he bent down to kiss her through her panties, he could smell her arousal. 'I think I'm going to find a very damp and aroused woman under these panties,' he said. 'You might,' she replied and playfully wrestled him to the bed. 'Though it's my turn to do a little bit of the undressing.' She took her turn at undoing his trousers; he in turn lifted his backside off the bed so she could slide his jeans away from him. 'Mmm, nice athletic legs,' she admiringly said, then looked up and sighed. 'Oh my goodness, Jack, look at this. He penis protruded from the top of his briefs; she ran her hand up the length of it and gently leant down so she could kiss the tip of his erection. 'This looks like it's going to provide me with some fun,' she predicted, and lay down on him so she could kiss his mouth and rub herself against the erection again, this time through thin panties. Jack really could not believe this was happening. Thank fuck climbing was cancelled last week he thought. Just one week, is that how long he'd known her? Unbelievable. He was jerked back to this unreal reality when she slid off him, to remove his briefs. 'I need to see this in all its glory,' she grinned as she peeled back his last item of clothing. This time he made no effort to lift himself, just enjoying the feeling of having this goddess strip him of his last vestiges of privacy, of having his sexual arousal worshipped at the tongue of a deity. And truly, she pleasured him greatly, the deity turning worshipper, taking him to the brink and pulling him back until she finally pulled her mouth from his penis. She flopped beside him. 'You have a lovely penis,' she said, turning to him and looking him in the eye, 'I hope to have it in my mouth again soon.' Then she lifted her hips, in an unsubtle hint that she wanted to be as naked as him. 'You can take them off,' she instructed. He never forgot that moment. It's not a moment you forget as you undress your new lover for the first time. He slowly pulled down her panties, wanting to elongate the moment, the feeling of easing the knickers over her hips; the elastic collapsing inwards until the unstretched underwear no longer had any purchase on her body. With her bottom still raised into the air, he supported her by cupping it in his hands, and eagerly, but tenderly kissed and caressed her most intimate parts with his tongue and fingers. She smelled and tasted as divine as a divinity should; her arousal left her warm and very wet. His tongue expertly weaved its magic on her; within a few minutes her breathing had grown very laboured and the contented moans emanating from her mouth had changed to language more becoming a street than a holy being. Her climax was a long, shuddering affair that hardly abated her desire. 'Inside me! Now! I want to feel the full length of that beautiful looking cock of yours as deep as it will go,' she hissed. He paused, hardly wanting to spoil the moment, but always the practical he asked, 'You got any condoms?' 'Oh. Yeah, of course,' she hesitatingly replied and pulled open the bedside draw to reveal a saucer with a large collection of different prophylactics. He thought it was odd: both that she should seem so distant about the need to be careful and that then she should have such a variety of contraceptives. He wondered whether she was on the pill, but thought he'd ask later, not to spoil the moment. 'Put it on for me?' he asked. 'I love it when a woman slides the condom on for me.' She ripped into the package with her teeth, the desire for him deep within her. 'I'll go on the pill,' she told him breathlessly, 'then we can dispose of this passion killing ritual.' He nodded a silent agreement as she slid on the condom and then slid herself on his penis to feel the pleasure inside her, impaled on his 'magnificent penis' as she liked to call it. She began to rock on him, then up and down on him, leaned forwards in an attempt to get his penis applying pressure to her clitoris. He pushed back and they began a rhythm that would lead to her second orgasm of the evening, but by no means her last. With her second orgasm done, she instructed him that he had to do some of the more strenuous exercise now and she laid face down on the bed, head buried in sheet, arse invitingly up in the air so ‒ in her words ‒ 'she could be fucked good, hard and deep and have my clitoris rubbed by your fingers.' Her wonderfully tight pussy engulfed his penis as he reached his own orgasm, and pumped into her from behind, his fingers rigorously working her clitoris to induce her third orgasm. They collapsed together on the bed, panting, but happy. 'Next time we do that, we do it bareback, I want to feel you explode inside me,' she said. 'Monday I'm on the pill.' As they drifted off to sleep she half whispered in the dark. 'I love sex; I like the naughtiness of it. Sometimes I walk around the supermarket picking up the vegetables thinking about sex, thinking about the people around me and the things they get up to when they are locked away in their homes at night. I like thinking of sex in incongruous places like that. Sometimes I like to do it in places like that. I wouldn't say no to fucking amidst the courgettes...' When they awoke in the morning, they made love again, this time more leisurely. They'd woken up in spoons; she felt his erection between her legs so she'd grabbed a condom, told him to slide it on and slide between her damp sticky legs. They'd both cum like that, her putting great pressure on his penis as he pushed inside her, and caressing herself as she felt his length deep inside her. Afterwards they bathed together and she'd persuaded him to make love one more time. He protested that he was supposed to be in the recording studio with the band he was in. She waved away his protests and he was powerless to resist. He had made himself late for his Saturday morning studio appointment and the band gave him serious shit about the smile on his face and his dream like state. He did not care one jot. The two of them couldn't meet until next Friday; he was away with work all next week, she was visiting friends the rest of the weekend. When they did meet, she arrived at his house on Friday evening and they made love on and off until two o'clock in the morning, only stopping to eat pizza, delivered by a bemused delivery boy who was treated to her naked form as she wickedly gave him a ten pound note and shooed him away by telling him to keep the two pounds change from the large pizza. This time they did make love with no condom. 'I'm on the pill now,' she excitedly told him. In the morning, she dashed off. I probably can't see you until Friday again, she told him. He looked like a who'd been told no more sweets for a week. She told him it would just make him enjoy it more next Friday and that she'd see him here again. It was a strange pattern that went on for a few weeks, sometimes interspersed with a Wednesday night meeting. Each time he was surprised that he didn't really miss her that much; just the sex. Everything started to change and get rather complicated one Thursday. He was playing a gig ‒ at least his band was ‒ at one of the small venues in town. They occasionally played an electric folky, rootsy sort of music, music that wasn't really her thing ‒ she was more into terrible boy bands. She came though, partly because she felt she should, partly because she was a little curious about what he looked like on stage. She didn't come alone. They hadn't really shared their friends; in truth it was a relationship based on sex. Very good sex and from his point of view, with a little slice of female perfection - but just sex. He liked her, but he wasn't terribly interested in her as a person; they shared few interests and he got the impression she felt the same. He wasn't going to rock the boat though, not with someone that gorgeous who was essentially a sex partner. This time though, she was sharing her friends. Or at least one. After the gig, she came to see him, smiled at him and told him 'he was good'. Her friend though positively beamed at him and told her she thought he was 'brilliant'. 'Do you like Richard Thompson?' the friend asked. 'I love him,' he replied, an eyebrow raised that she'd know who he was. 'Me too,' she excitedly replied. 'It really comes through in your playing. And that you cover two of his songs of course!' 'Thanks, er.' 'Sarah,' she quickly said. 'And you're Jack.' 'Yes.' 'I've been looking forward to meeting Rachael's latest boyfriend,' she laughed. He frowned at the 'latest boyfriend' bit, but before he could ask, Rachael had grabbed her by the hand and with a forced laugh told her to stop bothering him with girly gossip. 'I have to go, honey,' Rachael said to Jack. 'Sorry.' 'It's fine, I have to pack up all the gear. Glamorous rock and roll lifestyle and all that.' 'Folk-Rock lifestyle,' joked Sarah. He laughed, 'Yeah, true,' he said self-effacingly, 'like I could ever be cool enough to be rock and roll.' 'Oh I dunno,' started Sarah, then felt Rachael's eyes burning into her. 'Um, never mind. Best get off,' Sarah said. 'Nice to meet you. Bye.' Jack turned his attention to Rachael. He grabbed her hand, pulled her aside, whispered into her ear. 'You know your supermarket fantasy?' She pulled back, raised an eyebrow at him. 'Yes.' 'We can make it come true,' he grinned. 'My friend runs the local Sainsbury. It's just a little one with no night shift. He said if we come at 9pm, we can fuck ourselves stupid amid the courgettes.' 'We'll talk about this later,' she said, a little frostily. 'Here is not the time or the place.' They talked, or rather argued mildly about it the day after at their usual Friday night-in. She was a little unimpressed that he'd talked to someone about her fantasy, rather unsure about the practicalities of it. His friend might see, someone outside might see, a fantasy is sometimes only a fantasy and so on. He patiently allayed her fears. 'Mike gives his word he'll lock himself away in his office at the back. No-one else will come into the shop, because of the store layout - the door essentially being on the side ‒ no-one will be able to see us from the outside. We'll ring Mike when we're done, slip quickly out of the back entrance and he'll lock up when we're gone. No risk. Then every time you go round Sainsbury you'll be able to remember having my cock buried inside you when you pick up the courgettes. She was coming round to the idea. 'I'm more likely to remember you when I pick up the cucumbers,' she smiled. It was a weak smile, but he knew she'd forgiven him. 'When?' she asked. 'Mondays are the best time. It's quiet in the store and he has weekly stuff he can do once closing time has gone. She looked hesitant. 'Mondays aren't good for me.' He always wondered what she did on weeknights, but she'd never been very forthcoming. He sighed silently. Waited. 'OK, let's do it this Monday,' she relented, secretly very excited. This Monday, ironically, wasn't great for him; he had a gig the day after and a particularly tricky solo he really needed to practice, but he wasn't going to risk stalling. He was really into this idea now. He'd found it funny that he now needed something a little more risky to enjoy the sex with this gorgeous woman as much as he used to. 'Great,' he said. 'I'll sort it out.' 'Now,' she said, a gleam in her eye, 'I bought some lovely silk hankies today, you're going to tie me to the chair here and fuck me in front of the fireplace. Would be better in the winter with a real fire, but this will suffice.' In the end, he tied her arms to the legs of the big old armchair and her legs to the legs of the small sofa. She pleaded with him to rip her clothes off and fuck her hard, as she lay, spread in front of him. His heart, in truth, wasn't in it, but he put on a great act for her: ripped her shirt open, buttons popping open, some breaking off to reveal her breasts ‒ she was braless as always on these nights ‒ and he bit hard on her nipples as she squirmed beneath him. She pleaded him to stop, but silently implored him to continue. A reluctant anger grew inside him, this wasn't what he wanted from a relationship, no matter how drop dead fucking gorgeous a girl was, this wasn't really him. He pulled hard at her elasticated skirt and ripped the panties from her hips, a rent through the cheap white cotton material. 'Fuck me,' she screamed. He fucked her. No gentility at all. He was a little sad as they lay post coital. Her laying splayed out, tied by each of her appendages, gasping for breath; him laying on her shoulder, wanting for intimate tenderness. The spark of their relationship was dying. He could feel it. When he untied her though she was glowing. 'Jack, that was so good, I can't wait for Monday night. At that very moment, he could. What a contrast to those first days; time when he wanted to be in a cocoon, waiting for time to slip peacefully away until he could be with her. Now, the time rushed by until he was next with her, until he could have his next bout of meaningless sex with an unflawed beauty. This was fucked up. 'She still makes my dick hard,' was the thought as he waited outside Sainsbury in the small shopping centre. She is still the most outrageously beautiful woman. Most men would kill to be in his position he argued with himself, so make the most of the evening. She arrived, right on time, wearing a short, loose white skirt and blouse that tied at the front revealing her flat stomach and belly button. She looked, frankly, stunning. He'd seen her naked a whole host of times now, but 'You look amazing,' he whispered in her ear. 'I know,' she replied. 'I did it for you. Thank you for making this fantasy come true. He rang his friend, who let them slip through the door, gestured them through the warehouse to the shop. Mike couldn't help but stare at Rachael and wished he could watch his friend in action with this beauty. Rachael felt slightly uneasy under his blatant gaze. 'Go break an egg,' he joked as he turned and disappeared to his office, wondering whether he would be able to resist sneaking back to try to catch a glimpse of her naked. Rachael moved through the aisles, near to the store entrance and smiled broadly. She ran her hand over the apples, oranges and finally bananas. 'Just think, Jack,' she said almost skipping about, 'tomorrow, people will be wandering around here, oblivious to the fact that we have had copious amounts of sex among the potatoes, the bananas and the grapes.' He followed her, a smile on his face, a desire burning within to be with this woman again. Her physical beauty overwhelming any further doubts he had. 'Stop,' he said, and ripped a banana from a bunch. Approached her, she giggled. 'Oh, Jack, yes, take control.' He peeled back the banana and pushed it slowly between her lips; they parted slowly and she moaned appreciation of the act. She took his hand and thrust in under her skirt. He expected to find panties, but found only naked flesh, pubic hair and a very wet pussy. She gasped as he pushed his fingers inside her. 'I am so fucking turned on, Jack. I do not remember ever being so turned on.' She dragged him across the shop floor, to the courgettes, picked one up and demanded that he fuck her with it. 'Don't be too gentle, Jack, I am ready to be fucked.' He voice dropped to a whisper. 'Ready right now.' He slid the legume gently inside her, but she protested. 'No, harder. Harder,' she demanded through her teeth, don't spare me. So he pushed deep into her and she screamed with pleasure. 'Fuck. Me.' He couldn't believe this was good for her, the courgette wasn't smooth like a banana or a cucumber would be, but she demanded he kept going. She lifted her skirt so she could see her reflection in the counter and touched her clitoris while he vegetable-fucked her. She screamed encouragement and an orgasm absolutely ripped through her, spasms rendering her body uncontrollable. She was crying, utterly out of control and it took some while for her to come down from that high. 'Oh, Jack, let's have more of this.’ She wobbled, Bambi like, to the grapes, hitched her skirt up again and inserted , one then two, then several inside her, her pussy gaping wide from the pounding she'd taken with the courgette. 'Time for some desert, Jack, come eat me out.' She pushed his face into her, his tongue licked up and down her lips, before she reached inside herself and pulled out a grape, coated in her juices; he crushed it with his teeth and tasted the heady mixture of grape and Rachael. He found more and more; he couldn't believe how many she had pushed inside herself and looked up at her when he'd exhausted the supply. Her head was tossed back, almost in a different world of unparalleled pleasure. He licked her clitoris as he looked up and she shook. 'Oh, yes,' she cried, 'more of that.' So he brought her to climax again, partly with his tongue, and partly with a peeled banana that he nuzzled up against her clit. When the banana finally disintegrated, he took another and inserted it, unpeeled, inside her, while he applied more and more pressure and greater and greater speed to her clit with his fingers. She shook with her second orgasm, not quite as out of control as the previous time, but still finding standing difficult. He was rock hard, he needed relief. She sensed this, told him it was his turn. Walked to the peaches, bent over, face inside the delicious aroma and hitched her skirt up. 'OK, Jack,' she commanded, 'Fuck me good; now. Fill me with your cum, let me feel you explode inside me.' They both loved this position and he entered roughly and hard from behind, his trousers dropped to his ankles. He reached round and shoved his hands under her little top, to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples hard like she liked it. He really knew how to pleasure her these days and fucked her just how she wanted. Just like he'd fucked her on Friday, little tenderness, great desire and huge amount of lust. Even Mike heard her screaming upstairs and could not prevent himself from watching behind the door of deli counter. He stood and held his dick in his hand, masturbated as he watched his friend fuck his irresistible girlfriend. It was an act of wanton voyeurism, but surely even a Saint would not have been able to resist? Twenty-four hours later, the scene for Jack could not have been much different. From a surreal fantasy to standing on stage playing guitar. The gig, as always, flew by. All the tension before the gig washed away in emotion, sweat and the exhilaration of making music in front of scores of people. He liked playing at The Old Station. People went there because they wanted to hear music. Didn't matter who it was, or whether they knew them, they went there and were respectful to the musicians. Jack loved it. When the gig was over, he stood at the bar, in between acts. It would be a couple of hours before they, as a mere support act, would be able to grab their gear and make their way home. May as well stay and listen to what was next. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a beaming smile on the face of the girl Rachael had brought along to the previous gig. What was her name; what the hell was her name? 'Hi, it's me, Rachael's friend, Sarah.' That was it ‒ Sarah. 'Yes, of course, Sarah. Hi! How are you?' He smiled, hesitantly at her. 'I'm fine, thanks. That was great. Again.' She positively beamed back at him. 'Thanks. Um, sorry, I'm just a bit surprised to see you.' Her face fell a little. 'You don't mind do you?' 'No, no. Of course not,' he hurriedly replied and the full wattage beam returned. 'It's just, I'm not sure why you came again so soon.' She looked at him like he was stupid. 'Because you're good.' 'Oh.' She laughed, 'Oh,' she mimicked, 'that all you can say?' 'Um, no. How about, thanks?' 'Thanks will do I guess.' He took a large gulp of his beer and realised she had nothing in her hand. 'Drink?' he asked. 'Sure,' she said, 'that would be lovely.’ They sat and chatted for ten or fifteen minutes among the excited banter of a hundred music lovers and recorded music from the P.A. as the engineer adjusted mics, levels and EQ to those he'd previously set in the sound check. The next band started and conversation stopped; for the next forty minutes, both of them enjoyed the second support band. He stole a look at her halfway through the set. She was pretty. Next to Rachael she was plain: Rachael was special, an oil painting that made those around look like a 's crayon scribble, but Sarah's face was alive with excitement at the fantastic music and he smiled at her excitement. The set ended, so she bought another round. The bassist from the band briefly sat with him as Sarah bought the drinks and he asked Jack what he was doing chatting up such a plain girl when he had Miss World to shag. He sent the bassist away with a grin. 'Of course you're just chatting,' the bassist had laughed and slapped him on the back before he went back to the others. Sarah sat down with a couple of beers. 'So how was the Supermarket last night?' she asked, like it was the most natural question in the world. He actually spat his beer out over the table and she laughed heartily at his discomfort. 'You have got to be kidding me. She told you that?' he asked incredulously. 'Sure, why not. Girls talk about everything.' 'Fuck I hope not everything,' he said looking sideways at her for assurance. She said nothing, just nodded. 'Even down to all the fruits?' She tried to hold back the giggle, but she couldn't. 'Good grief,' she said, 'maybe she didn't tell me quite everything,' 'I seriously hope not,' he said and studied his beer a while. 'Sorry,' she said, ‘didn't mean to embarrass you.’ She also studied her beer a while. They looked at each other and laughed. 'So you like Richard Thompson,' he said, to change subject thus to spare any further blushes, 'which albums do you have?' They talked about music until the last act came on and he realised he had so much in common with this girl. Hell, she even drank the same beer he was drinking. When the last act was over, they talked as he packed up gear. Sarah helped him tidy up gear, coiled leads, clipped cases shut and carried light stuff to his car. 'Night then,' she said as he slammed his boot shut. I'll get a taxi now.' 'A taxi? I don't think so; after all that help, you can have a lift.' 'You're going in the opposite direction to me though,' she protested. 'How do you kn...' He paused. 'Oh yeah. You girls talk.' She smiled that lovely headlight-bright smile again. 'Come on, get in,' he said and when she was securely fastened in: 'Where to, luv?' 'I 'ad that gorgeous Rachael Granger in the back of my car once,' she grinned. He cocked his head. 'Had?' he asked, 'now that I'd like to see.' 'Oy,' she slapped him. 'Drive and stop having filthy lesbian threesome fantasies, isn't last night enough?' She laughed and showed him she was at ease. He drove back to her house, accepted the inevitable invite for coffee with only the slightest of hesitation and they sat and talked til four in the morning, surrounded by CD and album covers, and books she'd dragged from her shelves. They swapped numbers. Why not, they liked the same music, liked reading, similar films and could share recommendations. 'Going to tell Rachael you lured me back to your home?' he asked with a grin before he left, guitars in hand, to return to his car. 'Sure, nothing to hide here. No secrets,' she said as she looked him in the eye. 'After all, why would you look twice at me when you have someone like her?' He said it before he could even think about what he was saying. 'Because you have a true beauty, not just one that's skin deep.' Before she could reply though, he was scurrying away to his car, wondering why the fuck he'd said that. For four weeks, he saw Sarah during the week ‒ unless it was a Wednesday when Rachael could meet for sex ‒ and Rachael still on a Friday. They would sometimes go to the other's house to listen to music, share some wine, watch a film or just chat. Sometimes they would go to a gig, didn't matter who, they just enjoyed listening to live music. Rachael didn't care, she gave her blessing; after all, why would she be under threat from Sarah? By the end of the fourth week though, he had fallen in love with Sarah and felt he was being unfaithful to her by having sex with Rachael. One drunken Thursday night he told Sarah this. 'I love you too,' she'd said softly. 'There's nothing we can do though. After all, I can't run off with my close friend's man.' That was that. Friends and no more. Rachael mercifully solved the problem though. By leaving. Leaving and offering no forwarding address, no number. Just a note to each of them. Jack read his with a hint of regret, but no more. Dear Jack, I have to move. I am sorry. I enjoyed my time with you, but things have changed. I know Sarah loves you, I can see it in her eyes when we talk. I know we have nothing in common but a sexual desire for each other, and we both know we need more. Something different. Things are very different to what they were when we met. You gave me something I always wanted and I am grateful for that. Thank you so much. Take care of yourself and take care of Sarah. She deserves the best and that is you. Love Rachael. He felt a weight lifted from him. Goodbye to the beautiful, but unreal Princess. A new start with a lovely real woman. He rang Sarah. 'Did you get a letter this morning?' He asked, hoping this wasn't a terrible wind-up. 'From Sarah?' 'Yes.' 'Yes, I did,' she replied, not being able to keep her voice steady. 'I can't believe it,' he said. 'Sad?' she asked, the hope in her voice unmistakable. 'No, not sad,' he said, and she cried. Tears of relief that the door was open for her and Jack, and tears of sadness that a close friend would go so suddenly, with a hint of a warning. 'Did she say anything about me having given her something?' he asked, and held his breath. 'Yes,' she replied, puzzlement in her voice. 'Any idea what she meant?' Jack asked. 'No. No I don't.' A pause. 'Come to me Jack, I need you.' He needed no further invitation. It was like coming home. It wasn't like making love for the first time, but a paradoxical mixture of lust, new exciting sex and the comfort of friends. She opened the door to him, eyes sad but excited; she knew that for all she had with Rachael, the secrets and the closeness Jack would more than make up for the loss. She pulled him to her and kissed him; the shiver that ran through her as their lips confirmed all she'd known. This was right. They undressed each other slowly. As Jack pulled Sarah's shirt over her head he saw that unfocussed far-away look on her face he'd seen so often as they'd watched bands, the look of unbridled joy as a song played that took her away from the moment. His lips touched hers again - softer than he'd imagined lips could be - their tongues met, the taste of red wine that she had been drinking, to wash away the sorrow of being apart, invaded his senses. No longer a drink to forget, but a drink to celebrate. In a moment of impatience, she unclipped her bra. 'I want to feel my breasts in your hands, Jack.' The bra, fallen away, exposed her breasts to his touch. They weighed heavily in his hands and for a Her nipples were hard to his tongue; he cupped one in his hand. Sarah, sighed. 'That's one area I beat Sarah hands down,' she giggled. 'Boys always think I have a better chest than her!' Jack stopped and looked at her, agape. 'Hey, don't stop,' she scolded and pushed her breasts back to his mouth. He mumbled an apology through his now full mouth and she laughed as she ran her fingers though his hair. His fingers ran down her slightly rounded stomach and unbuttoned her skirt. It fell to the floor and she grasped the top of his t-shirt almost dragging it off his back. She took control, pulled him up, now shirtless, so she could press her breasts to his chest and took his hands, planted them on her backside, then eased herself away just enough so she could start to undo his jeans. She broke away from the kiss. 'I'm looking forward to this,' she said, a half grin borne on an impish expression. 'Rachael tells me you have the most gorgeous penis.' And with that she slid down his body to complete the unbuttoning of his jeans. The boxers came down with his jeans; she smiled and gave an appreciative little moan. 'Oh, she was right,' she said. 'Lovely indeed. And now I can take it in my mouth.' Before she did though, she ran her tongue up its length and cupped his balls in her palm so a trail of saliva ran along his penis. She pulled away as if to admire her handiwork, then enveloped his penis with her mouth, the welcoming warmth of her mouth making him gasp. He smiled and looked down on her. It was the most wonderful sight he could remember seeing. There was none of the wanton lust of the last few months, this was more than just the delight of seeing the most perfect physical specimen sucking his cock. She looked up at him, eyes boring into his as she slowly moved her head on his penis. She stopped, pulled away. 'Let's make love,' she said. 'I am ready. So ready. Take off my panties and make love to me. Let me see your eyes as you enter me.' He pulled down her panties, no longer wanting to take this slow. He gasped as he took in the sight of her pussy. Waxed, not cut, down to a small strip of pubic hair, her lips puffy and exposed. 'Wow,' he said, 'there's something I did not expect.' 'Mmmm, I like to be clean and hairless down there. Do you like it?' 'Fuck, yes,' he said and moved to kiss her lips. She pulled him back though, 'Later, Jack, just now I need you in me.' She took his penis and locked eyes with him, eyes alive with anticipation and smile large on her face. 'Enter me now, Jack. We will make love, for the first time. The first of many.' She couldn't help it. Much as she wanted to see him, she involuntarily closed her eyes as he penetrated her and she sighed so contentedly. She snapped her eyes open again, took his backside in her hands and told him to make her cum. He was not going to let her down. ** ** Jack and Sarah had moved away, she had found a great job down south and he had easily found a job there too. Ten years since Rachael had left him, seven since he'd moved away. A random weekend back up north to see old friends. Jack had talked to Sarah about Rachael of course. Asked her questions about her. It wasn't an obsession though, more of a detached fascination. There was one thing that he'd clearly remembered though. 'You remember the first time you came to one of our gigs?' he'd asked Sarah. 'Always I will.' 'You said, and I remember this clearly, “I wanted to see Rachael's latest boyfriend.” Like she had a lot. 'Yes, she did,' Sarah replied thoughtfully, 'She had lots and none of them lasted more than a couple of dates. She wasn't loose though, Jack.' He nodded. Funny that she still defended the friend who had abandoned the both of them. 'It was more like she was looking for something specific, but never found it until she met you.' she added. He'd always wondered what it was in him she'd found, other than a mutual love of sex. And if it was just sex, why had she disappeared? He'd actually asked Rachael once, when the relationship had gone past that initial first excitement what it was that made her come back to him. He knew she could do much better than him looks-wise. 'Looks aren't everything, Jack,' she'd said, 'I want your intelligence, your humour, your gentle ways and your loving nature.' Then she whispered so quietly he almost couldn't hear her. 'You must have good genes.' He'd puzzled over that, he was sure she meant genes. His Levi's were good, but not spectacular. And now, he found himself back in that supermarket, near to where Rachael used to live. Sarah had pushed him a couple of times when they first started seeing each other about the supermarket night and so had told her a bit about it. Not all, but a fair bit. He stared at the<b> peaches </font></b>and remembered the purely lustful sex. Looked up to his wife and wrapped his arms round her. 'C'mon, we don't want supermarket fruit, let's get what we need.' They rounded the corner of the first aisle and heard a female voice saying 'Jack, come here.' A very familiar female voice. A boy pounded round the corner into Jack, sending his basket flying. Jack and Sarah looked at the boy. Jack went white, Sarah held her hands to her mouth. The boy they looked down on was quite simply a ten year old version of Jack. If you had a machine to shrink Jack, it would have been the boy. 'Jack,' came the familiar voice again. The boy didn't move, just looked up at the man staring at him. Even at this young age he knew the truth. He knew he was looking at the man his mother said he would never meet. The man who was gone. Sarah looked at Jack. Jack's gaze was focussed directly on the boy. The boy who whose father could only have been one person. And that person was him. Then Rachael appeared, hand-in-hand with another woman. 'Oh my fucking God,' said Rachael. CESAR V TO ALL CUTIE LADIES FROM Adult Dating zone  |
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