Thursday night I had plans to go to the private view of an exhibition with my best girl friend Gale. We were going to meet some of her other friends and they were all planning to go to a gig together afterwards. I've been ill for ages, only beginning to feel normal now, so said I couldn't manage the gig part and would leave them to it.
That was not what actually happened.
I met the two girls Gale and Holly in town, it transpired that one of the boys had made a lousy excuse and would not be showing up and the other was going to be late.We headed for the tiny gallery and looked around the private view, drank some free wine and had nice chats with random people.
I had three especially enjoyable conversations.
One with a guy I had modelled with;
"Hi"
"I remember you... Where from?"
"I'm your dying mother, you're the man on the chair"
"Oh YEah!! How's it going?"
The next with a family friend of the designer I model for
"So I don't want to play up the fact I was on acid in this bit of the story, that's not the important part. But I broke up with this girl; she really fucked me up, y'know? So I took off on my motorbike and was camping out by myself in the New Forest. Have you been? It's beautiful there. So these young silly boys were camping out near me and..."
Last with a head designer at Nokia;
"I thought this phone was a good idea, but it's started going all spakky"
"Oh dear Oscar's a rubbish phone"
"Oscar??"
"Oh yeah, the technicians name all the phones. The reason Oscar is so terrible is the woman who was designing it left half way through the job and I had to...."
About an hour late the last of the friends, Sam, turns up. I must confess that I was a teeny bit sloshed by this time, and feeling very cheerful. He and I are ancient history; we had an interlude when we were 19? 20? He was always a bit too macho, very chauvinistic. To the point where he wouldn't make a woman a cup of tea. Never having been much of "a woman" I had never put up with his shit and we had had occasional vigorous bouts of....exercise. So it was pleasant to see him. Good to have a hug and a chat, and when they headed off from the exhibition towards the venue I went along as I was going that way anyway (it's on my way home).
On the tube I was talked into 'one drink in the pub', in the pub I was talked into 'coming for a bite to eat' and in the restaurant I was talked into coming for a listen. Knowing Holly had to leave quite early anyway, I thought 'I needn’t stay all night, just come in for a while, leave with Holly.'
Sam, proving that he has matured a teeny bit, shouted me half a ticket and we headed into the fray.Holly leaves halfway through the support act, she works for a government department and has to be entirely compus mentus in the morning. By this point I was very inebriated, and even though I have been sworn off coke for six years (the only lapse I ever had was directly linked to an industrial accident and a visit to casualty, so I’m quite firm with myself) I decided that a little sniff might not be such a terrible thing. I knew that I was bordering on heaving all my drinks up, and know no better cure....
I ask Gale if I may have a little bit, she says that Sam has it, so I go down stairs to where the bathrooms are and wait for him to come out. When he spots me I just smile, I don't say anything until he comes right up close to me and I say "give it to me", I love the look on his face as he tries to stay cool "Oh yeah? Give IT to you?"
"Don't be naughty" I reply, "just put it in my pocket". His hand goes for the wrap in his watch pocket and I look at him and say "This pocket here." I reach up my right hand and pull my left bra cup away from my body. He tries and fails to keep his face impassive as he slides the tiny white envelope between cloth and flesh. For my part I pretend not to notice any brush of fingertips on skin, peck him on the cheek and head for a cubicle.
When I used to use coke a bit too regularly I was obsessed by the ritual; I had compact mirror, shiny inside and out, polished steel cover, and it had a little space between the mirror and the casing in which I used to stow my scalpel blade, changed regularly for a fresh, brand new, razor sharp one. Very sharp, I still have a scar on my leg from where I became distracted chopping a line, slipped and forced the point through my jeans into the soft flesh of my thigh. Needless to say, 'making-do' bothers me, but I did my best. I always start by washing my hands thoroughly; I like to lick any remnants of powder off my fingers and don't want cholera to spoil my fun. Then using my sleeve covered hands I bolt myself into a cubicle and squat down. No surface in a shared bathroom is ever going to be clean enough for my taste so I rummage in my wallet and come out with an international call card and my national trust membership (this seems quite ironic at the time and I enjoy it). I chop out a long skinny line, very skinny, very fine, the way I like it and using a rolled up sheet of European stamps I polish it all off. I lick the cutting edge of the national trust card, then I wipe over the phonecard with my fingers and suck them clean, one by one. Putting everything back in my wallet, sliding the wrap back inside my bra, I try to compose my self... Leaning for a moment against the wall I tip my head right back and inhale to catch any spare crumbs, check around my face with my fingers for tell tale sprinkles and then leave the cubicle.
So a little sniff, a good live hip-hop act, another vodka and I'm really enjoying the music. I actually really like dancing but never usually join in due to an exaggerated feeling of self consciousness (I'm a hopeless case), but the sniff does away with that and lets me get on with shaking my thing.
So nice to dance, love live music, and when I feel him sidling up behind me swaying with my sway, bouncing with my bounce I'm not offended, I'm enjoying it. Hoodie hanging off one shoulder, arms open, wrists out like an invitation, fingers curved, eyes half closed I roll from the heel to the ball of my foot... Up on my toes, twisting my hips I slide down to the flat... swinging at the waist I twist up onto my toes again and feel a hand, a wrist against me, he pulls me back into him. I ignore him and continue... a little butterfly.... bend at the knee, bring them forward together, tucking my bum in and forward, weight to the fore of my foot, then opening my thighs... weight moves back... He grasps me again, wriggling into my behind, I act oblivious but hear him growl in my ear "Girl..." It's like a game I shouldn't be enjoying, but it's all cool...
Another drink, the next live act, the crowd starts jumping... getting a little frenzied, arms in the air, I spin and writhe, twisting away from him. Whether he's touching me or not I know when he's there and when he's gone, the air is electric, the space between us full of heat, there is a storm brewing. His fingers run up my neck over my face, I grasp a finger between my teeth and bear down, he doesn’t flinch but I hear the muted growl again… Another line and the finale, an unlikely looking little guy beatboxing, whips the crowd up again and I’m still so high with energy and cola that even when the DJ starts playing Drum n Bass I’m not too disgusted, I wiggle to the bar, drink a glass of tap water, and another … then find that my feet are still moving. I start to bounce in earnest, a flick of the foot, a bend at the hip and I’m dancing to DnB like I’m 19 again… He stands a little apart, watching, this dance is too manic to be companionable. Is he sulking a little? I can't really tell and I'm not going to stop and check. This new madness of movement tires me quickly and I do go over, he looks almost sad, I swing up onto my tiptoes (bless these skateshoes) and give him a hug.
"Come home with me"
"what? No, I can't. I’m riding the night bus with Gale"
"Girl...."
The music is over too soon, much of me thinks it is a shame it's a weeknight, this insane surplus energy could be most safely worn out in the wild dance. None the less we have to make a move, so we head into the street. Up to the bus stop and try to get comfy on those shiny sloping red plastic excuses for seats. All the while Sam has one eye out for his bus, the stop is further up than ours, but we say he should wait with us, his long legs will make it easy for him to reach his bus stop in time. Is this playing a girliness card? It could well be.
He asks me again to go home with him, once again I say no. I can't leave my girl to get the night bus alone. After a short while his bus turns up and he's gone. I wrangle a bit with Gale, she says I could've gone with him, and I say no, it wouldn't have been right.
Then my phone rings; "come home with me"
"where are you?"
"On the bus, but I’ll get off. Come back with me"
"I CAN'T leave Gale, really not."
"What if I pay for her cab?"
"Ok then...."
"Yes?"
"Yes. Ok. Yes. I’ll wait here"
As he walks back I wrangle more with Gale, she's looking displeased, although just a minute ago she said it would've been ok. It's pretty much too late now, it would be too cruel even for me to get the boy off his bus and heading back to get me, then change my mind. When he comes back he goes over to ask a cabbie how much it costs to Westie, as he's leaning in to ask, the girls who are getting into the cab call over to us that they're going that way and that there's room for one more...
As I'm putting Gale in the cab our bus turns up and Sam runs up to hold it, I'm trying to say goodbye and are you ok and is it ok to Gale. I'm not getting any response, but she's inside the cab and I’m begging the random girls to look after her before I have to run. The bus driver's impatient and I have to leg it or be left behind.
Sam is a bit sulky when I get on after him, he doesn't say anything in particular but I’m familiar with that set of his jaw. He hasn't grown up that much then... We find a seat and he hugs me up a bit. It's good to have a chance to chat. I’m not sure about what I'm really doing or why, but it makes me feel more comfortable to be able to catch up a bit.
When we get back to his place he makes me a cup of tea and some toast (to soak up the alcohol of which there is rather a lot) and we sit on his bed chatting about what we've been up to in the last few years. It's really good to talk, and I begin to feel comfortable and relaxed with him; gossiping away over a cup of tea like everything is normal.
Until he leans in. "It's weird" I say "After all that talking, it feels odd, like we're friends." He's frustrated, of course, he's male. And has to wait until the moods take me. I keep reaching a point with him where we're getting a heavy and suddenly I have to stop, I feel like I'm being smothered (he's 6 foot 5 and broad). He's also impatient, it seems immature to me to keep heading directly for 'the prize'. He's getting more and more frustrated with me, and I'm high and paranoid- "Don't hate me, I'm not doing it deliberately". Either way he's not doing everything entirely wrong and eventually I am as frustrated as he is, but still keep hitting that point when I feel trapped and smothered... It's a horrible sensation; out of control, unsafe.
I'm thinking to myself, 'How did this ever work before? I remember having fun with him' Then I have a eureka moment, I never let him get on top of me before, it's logistically all wrong, he's just too big, and hasty! I turn him over onto his back and growl "Be still", raising myself up over his body I slide myself over him, running my hands down his chest, grinding myself against him, I feel him growing again. Leaning in to him I kiss his neck, bite his shoulder. My nipples are erect and incredibly sensitive, brushing them against his smooth chest makes me moan with pleasure. his cock now fully hard against me, pressing urgently against the black lace of my panties. Sliding up his body and sitting on his belly I lean right over, face-to-face, and say, practically into his mouth, "Wrap him up for me". He quickly obeys with me whispering obscenities in his ear, and I pull my panties to one side and take him in my hand. He's big, not out of proportion, or 'it surely wont fit', but definitely big. I can wrap my fingers around his girth, just. With my other hand I peel apart the petals of my cunt, and stretching myself wide open I begin to feed his cock into me. I'm so turned on by being in control that I'm slick with my own juices, which is just as well or perhaps it wouldn't fit after all... inch after inch presses into me, stretching me wider open, I moan and slow down even more.
Putting his hands on my hips he tries to thrust, but I take hold of his wrists and pin them over his head with my left hand, I dig the nails of my free hand into his shoulder and growl again "Be STILL". He's much stronger than me and could easily overpower me and have it his way, but he submits, and that is a huge turn on. As I finally I take him all the way inside me I gasp and put my hand on my belly over the place where I feel his cock pressing against me. I start to move, oh-so-slowly, sliding myself up and gently down again onto his hardness. Growling quietly I claw his chest, pinch him, bite his arms... Each time he tries to change the pace I hurt him, and repeat my command "be Still boy".
Slowly I'm working myself into a frenzy; I begin to speed up, almost imperceptibly, until I'm riding him at a steady pace. As I begin to relax into the rhythm I let him hold me, touch me, stroke me, support me as I lift myself and lower myself deliberately down to be impaled again. As he strokes my face I suck his fingers gently into my mouth one by one, he moans "oh, girl", my thighs begin to tremble faintly and I quicken my movements. I start to gasp for breath as the tremble quickens, increases, like an earthquake it spreads through my body, the epicentre deep inside my belly where his prick is nuzzling against me, its swollen head coaxing me to come. When I do come I'm shaking all over and have tears in my eyes... I whimper squirm and shudder myself to ecstasy. When the trembling begins to subside I flop down against his hot body, snuggling into him, and let the pounding in my chest subside. My thighs continue trembling, sending shudders through my body, and I can feel my cunt pulsing slowly and deliciously.
I think at this point I might get a little sleep, but after only a short while he’s snuggling up and cupping my breasts. Kissing me forcefully, pressing himself against me urgently…. I had forgotten his appetite…
We go through the whole cycle again, and I am spent, totally and utterly. He falls asleep, but although I am so tired I am virtually passing out, the vestiges of the coke remain in me and I can’t sleep at all.
