Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Terracotta and Disbelief (Part 5)

The evening couldn't come quick enough. She stayed in her pajamas most of the day, had a shower at three and was wandering around eating fresh capsicum and hommus, when he rang. Despite the fact that her nerves were a-jangle it was her day off damnit and she was determined to claim some of it, at least, for herself.
"Hullo this is Abbey"
"Hey Crazy-Lady. How about I scratch you at 7?"
"You may do whatever you like" Abbey said dryly "Does this mean you have wheels?"
"I do"
"Ok. See you then, then"
And she hung up. Feeling silly, feeling as though she had over-estimated a situation, who talks like that? Was he a player? What provoked him to speak to her in his sleepy-casual tone (that he, no doubt reserved solely for women). It made him sound like a wanker. Abbey turned off the tv in disgust, she put on music.

By the time 7pm rocked around she was feeling mixed up about the whole thing. Her phone rang.
"I'm outside"
"Hullo. I see"
"Come down"
There was a pause.
"Don't forget your room keys"
She practically threw the phone down but smiled at his impertinence. In a moment she had grabbed what she needed and was making her way downstairs. He was waiting on the pavement, next to a Landcruiser. It was a nice car, a little too ostentatious but she didn't care. Not when a man like that stood in front of it. He was smoking, holding the cigarette leisurely in his hand as a single line of smoke curled it's way into the dusk. He wore dark jeans and an expensive, light green shirt, open at the neck. He must know it brought out the colour of his eyes.
Highfield grinned when she trotted down the front steps to join him, her breasts bouncing on her foot falls. He whistled and Abbey stopped before him. "May I?"
She looked up at him quizzically, as his lips descended on hers. He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips across hers. It was less of an embrace and more of a promise. Abbey grinned.
"Did you have a good day?"
"Better now"
He motioned for her to take the passenger seat.
"Where will we go?" He opened the door for her and she slid in. Tonight she wore powder-blue flares, that were all vintage good taste. They hugged her hips. She had paired it carefully with a linen, collared button-up blouse in two types of cotton. Her cork-and-leather shoes were tan, Abbey had swept her hair up into a high pony above her ears. She was a little uneasy at being dressed too casually, she'd gone for 60's chique. Who knew if it was fashionable? She knew it suited her and tried to remain at ease in her skin. He had whistled, that was a good sign, now he let his eyes linger on her breasts as he joined the seat across from her. The moment stretched. Abbey looked away, forcing her eyes forward, lest she reach across the gears and the hand brake and beg him to give her more kisses.
"We're going bowling".
Abbey raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As Highfield drove them out of town, they chatted and Abbey allowed herself a sneaky view of his profile. It made her breathe catch and desire pool in the centre of her stomach (or if she was honest, a little lower down). His long eye lashes framed those amazing green eyes, she couldn't see their colour at present but it was stamped in her memory. He was clean shaven tonight (unlike this morning) and he smelt of sandalwood and tobacco. It all added up to an appealing package alright, no doubt about it. The thought made her shiver.
Highfield broke off mid sentence.
"You're searing me with the way you're looking at me". His voice was low but he only glanced at her, keeping his focus on the road.
Abbey coughed and looked away.
"What are you thinking?"
The question surprised her.
"You're really hot". She chose to speak plainly, flushing a little at her honesty.
"I got nothing on you, Miss I've-stepped-out-of-another-era."
"You like it? I wasn't really born to wear 21st century fashion, my body is a ... different shape"
"I'd think you look stunning." Highfield spoke cool-ly but the words ignited the moment and Abbey found herself flushing again.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Maybe I like to be free to see who I want"
He didn't look like he enjoyed being free, not at that precise moment. Abbey noted his jaw hardened as if he chose to clench his teeth. He stared at the road, un-blinking. She turned her attention forward too.
"Not everybody will tell you everything you wish to know." Highfield added ambiguously.
"You're married."
"No. Not now..."
"You were?"
"I was."
"Yeah. This is the first time we have hung out together, outside of our apartment block. I don't want to talk about my ex-wife."
Abbey sighed, beautiful men were always taken. She shrank a little in her seat.
"It's not your sister's apartment is it?"
"No. We both own it. She took pity on me and helped me buy something, after the divorce."
"So you part own it?"
"Half. I half own it." He clarified
"Oh. Mine's a rental." She tried to say it lightly, all the while wishing the subject would change.
"See now, I know you've started thinking I'm damaged goods". Highfield spoke dryly. Abbey laughed.
"No actually I was thinking that as all the best men are taken, this is why I've met you. Because you were and now, unexpectedly, even for you, you're not"
"It's not a swear word".

They rode in silence for a while. Highfield pulled in outside a large complex and stopped the car. Around them dusk was falling. He felt awkward, shy, like he'd said too much and broken the magic of their new acquaintance already. Spoiled things and didn't know how to find his way back to where they had been. He flipped his green eyes to look straight at her.
"Do you want to go bowling?"
There was a pause.


Monday, August 30, 2010

Bacon and All Spice (Part 4)

Abbey woke the next morning with a sense of wonder. She lay back on the cotton sheets and gazed at the high ceiling of her room. The ornate centre- piece drew her eye in an elaborate circle. Again! She loved it, the bed was large and comfortable, sunlight streamed in from her high windows. What kind of a day would today be? After the drama and mayhem of last night, could anything be as exciting?
Abbey worked at a car dealership as a receptionist and wrote gory, scary, beloved b-grade movies in her spare time. She had sold two, without calling herself Abbey. Her lounge room sagged with its massive collection of shlock horror. Today was Saturday and for once, in her short life, she didn't have to be anywhere, or meet anyone.
Abbey pictured her room in darkness, a snap-shot of happiness - popcorn, a mug of milo a smile and a dvd. She sighed and felt the weight of her bedding on her chest. For now, she could smile contentedly at the ceiling, alive and warm from sleep. Her thoughts drifted to a sexy man in her apartment block. The way he had kissed her, beguiling, honest and sensual. It made Abbey wonder why on earth something had made her hesitate, bringing their games to an end.
She knew, after all that if he was interested in her. A dynamic relationship, fueled by more than just sex beckoned. Hell, being together in the same room as him seemed to create sparks. Perhaps she wanted more than just sex, and that was why she had shied away from a more pleasurable evening. Her thighs throbbed with the weight of an unspent promise. Abbey knew it had taken almost all her gumption to step from his embrace and slow things down. Highfield wasn't a man she wanted just to fuck, she realised. He had an enthusiastic take on the world, a languid humour and a lazy wit, she wanted to get to know him.
Abbey reached over to her night table, searching for the piece of ripped white-lined paper, the kind she so detested. A bold disregard for consequences made her dial it.
His mobile rang. Abbey's heart thumped in her chest. Sleepily, he answered, the deep, soft timber to his voice causing a shock of electricity to run right through her. Abbey adjusted the pillow near her arm.
"Goo' morning" having not spoken to anyone, her voice was hoarse and though she didn't know it, wary.
"Morning princess." Highfield put no emphasis on the word. He chuckled down the phone.
"Did you dream like I did?" he said in a rich, male voice that made her think of golden syrup and chocolate.
"You know what I think?" Abbey spoke boldly, she felt the blood quicken in her veins.
"What is it?"
"Come over?"
"You serious?"
"I don't know"
She hung up. The uncertainty of the next few minutes hung on the air.
The doorbell rang and then she knew. All of a sudden Abbey felt no remorse. It was one thing to tease a man and another to crave his company.
With the confidence of a woman that knows her fridge holds bacon and eggs and mushrooms, she opened the door to all 6 " 4 of him blocking her doorway. He wore flannalette space pajamas, only the bottoms and a dark blue singlet. He filled out both the singlet and his pajamas nicely, she noted. His well shaped arms spilled out through the arm holes and she wanted those big warm appendages, desperately, to hold her. What impulse prevented her from throwing herself into his sturdy arms? Abbey didn't know, but she was glad of it. Already she was shaking with anticipation.
Lifting her gaze to a broad, hard chest that spoke of pure masculinity and sunlight. Abbey took a deep breath.
"Goo' morning"
"So you say" Highfield said soflty, as he insinuated himself into her living room. He looked both perturbingly gauled and self righteous.
"I can't really explain it..." In the moment that followed, Highfield reached up and placed a wayward lock of Abbey's hair behind her ear. She could have felt a pin drop. As she drew a breath, the world seemed to stop,
"I invited you for breakfast."
"Good." Highfield said the word lightly, though his eyes tortured hers with another question.
"I'm hungry"
"Well I went," triumphantly "in the rain last night, to the shops"
"So I hear". Highfield's reply was as dry as her mouth when he looked at her. Abbey wore Elmo flannelette pajama pants, not dis-similar to his own, light blue singlet, no bra and a cheeky grin on her face. What the hey? And she could think of nothing she would rather do, than spend a little more time with this enigmatic, cheeky man.
"You know what?"
"No". Abbey looked up at Highfield, through her lashes. To hell with decorum, she wanted this man and was sure that he could read it in her eyes.
Highfield mounted a grin on his face. She leaned forward without thinking to receive a kiss. He planted his warm lips on hers.
"I don't want bacon. I don't eat bacon, You don't know anything about me Abbey. What I do want - is an evening with you tonight. I'll pick you up at 8."
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on over his pajama top.
"I'll see you then. You are crazy, beautiful and I don't know how I am going to stand it. But I'm walking away now, and I'll see you tonight"
He left. Abbey chewed her lip in her own sitting room. She got up after a minute and got out her kitchen skissors, she began to cut the bacon rind.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Willard and the Wet Woman (part 3)

"How can you be so sure?" Her lips were almost touching his as she formed the words.
"Perhaps because you're shaking". Highfield's voice was low and intimate. "Do you always shake?"
"No". Her response was feather-light, almost inaudible. His green gaze swept her face searching for something. For that brief moment Abbey thought he looked almost vulnerable, as though he was seeking her approval.
"Then if you don't want me to, I won't touch you". Highfield's hands drifted off her arms and back to his sides. Abbey could feel the cool air that separated them, the cold re-wrapping itself about her like a blanket. In the shadow after the warmth of his embrace, she began to fathom her regrets.
He was already sliding on his heel, backing away from her and widening the gap between them. Highfield's eyes never left hers.
Abbey swore, she knew a moment of indecision before a new and indescribable emotion welled up inside her slender frame. Before she could stop herself she practically threw herself at him, stretching on tippy-toes to wrap her arms about his neck, offering her lips to be kissed, hesitating only a second before the pleasurable feel of his lips met hers, causing her to murmur with relief.
"Hey Crazy-Woman" Highfield said softly "let's go inside?"
A door opened down the hall and their elderly neighbour peered out. Abbey made sure to shut the door softly before she took a lid off her giggles.
"I'm not in the habit/"
"I don't care. You're amazing. Less talk?" His large frame filled up her lounge room. The room had never looked smaller to her. Highfield took of his jumper and threw it carelessly onto an armchair
"Your turn" he challenged lazily, Abbey obliged.
Next Highfield stepped out of his leather shoes and kicked them away, his affected carelessness made her smile and he met her with a cheeky grin. He looked so sexy, his hair ruffled, standing in his socks. He humbled her, his openness and his eagerness to engage in the moment. She took a moment to appreciate his solid frame and broad shoulders that tapered to a lean torso. Highfield's thick, well defined arms showed he had the body of a man that worked, rather than worked out, to achieve his physique. Abbey eyed him silently, unconsciously tracing her lower lip with her tongue, she the thought of his naked chest.
"Abbey, it's your turn"
She grinned, and without a trace of the self-consciousness she was feeling, took off her shirt. Her full breasts were held in-check by a delicate, aqua lace balconette bra. Her bountiful bosom was almost bursting from it's constraints. It was her favourite lingerie and she knew she looked good in it, even though her nerves were on tenterhooks standing semi naked before this handsome man she barely knew. Still, she reasoned, he had helped her out of her clothes once already this evening so it was worth attempting to go the extra mile.
In admiration, Highfield offered a low whistle. He made no attempt to move towards her, standing his tantalising ground in the centre of the room. To her delight the next item he removed was his shirt. Dark hairs sprang from his chest and highlighted the path to his jeans. He was tanned and toned, she noted, suddenly self conscious of her soft, ivory midriff.
"Can I touch you now?" Highfield asked, unsteadily. He closed the distance between them in a few short steps and bent his head. This time he kissed her neck, warming the skin with his feverish breath and passing his lips lightly over her nape, Abbey shivered, afraid his caress would turn her limbs to water. He trailed his lips along her burning flesh, making a path towards the top of her breasts, her soft flesh reacting violently. There was no mistaking her pleasurable response as her nipples budded and hardened. The weight of Highfield's calloused, bronzed hand brushed her breast and she gasped, pressing herself closer to him. Highfield unwound just one of her hands that had somehow found their way around his neck once more, and let it rest on his body. She could feel the strange sensation of masculine strength, lightly peppered with hair, beneath her hands. He coaxed her exploring hand further, until it brushed the top of his jeans, of her own volition Abbey cupped the straining weight of his cock through his jeans. She heard his breathing quicken, he shifted his weight and played right into her waiting fingers, allowing her to feel along his length. Abbey was quietly impressed.
A tiny voice in her head registered that a man built as he was, probably got to enjoy pastimes such as this one on a not-too-infrequent basis. Abbey tried not to think, instead she shuddered. Highfield stopped abruptly and put a little distance between them.
"Am I going to fast for us?" His face was flushed but there was genuine concern, amongst the desire she could clearly read in his green eyes.
"I should see you tomorrow" Abbey began unsteadily. She went to the door and opened it. "I have to work in the morning."
Highfield ran a shaking hand through his brown hair. He picked up his shirt.
"You want me to go?" he said the words almost disbelievingly.
"I think it's best"
"Alright". Highfield tugged his ti shirt over his head and added more cheerfully
"Alright Crazy-lady but this isn't over"
In a moment he was out in the hall, closing the door discretely behind him without another word.