This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that
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.