Cooper raises an eyebrow, a half-smile accompanying it. Nathan looks startled.
'Nothing concrete. Is there a party on somewhere?'
'This is Fitzroy. There's always a party on somewhere.'
'True. But where is this one?'
Cooper is also just a little taller than me, and the two of them are like a picket fence circling me, all points and angles in contrast to my softness, shadows and secrets. I will have fun with these two.
'My place. You want to come around for a drink after the gig?'
Nathan does that tilt down of his chin again, and I stop myself from stepping over and licking his face there and then. Cooper nods.
'Maybe '
I make a show of scribbling down my address. ‘I’m just around the corner from here. You can cut down Fitzroy St.’
Nathan takes the piece of paper from me and scrutinises it, nodding as he mentally places the location of my address.
Cooper looks over his shoulder. ‘There’s no phone number on here.’
‘Fewer means of communication mean fewer excuses, I always find.’ I smile at him; his eyebrows raise and the corner of his mouth quirks up ever so slightly. He is just realising that I am something to be reckoned with.
The barman finally makes his way to me, a stroke of good timing because it means I've got an exit and the upper hand.
'Maybe I'll see you later.'
They nod, and Cooper is already a little distant, and I feel a momentary chill of uncertainty.
The headliners come on stage, and I turn to watch them, still aware of Nathan and Cooper in my peripheral vision. They murmur to each other, look over at me and murmur some more. They get interrupted by friends and fans every few minutes, but are never distracted for long.
Forty minutes into the headliners’ set, I can’t stand it any more. Nathan and Cooper are still over at the bar, the rest of their band is in front of the stage.
I take the long way around, circle back through the crowd, then duck under the archway and double back through the side of the divided room that the bar is in, where it’s less crowded and where Nathan and Cooper still prop up the bar. I catch their eyes as I make my way through the throng and say ‘see you later’, my words engulfed by the music and the crowd.
Cutting my way down Fitzroy St, I can barely think about what I've done. I start to shake, trying to smooth down my hair with fingers that won’t stop trembling. I get back to my flat, a tiny square corner of a slipshod block, and lean against the front door as I close it after me.
I pour a whiskey and put on some music. I refuse to look at the clock on the wall
My flat remains unfilled. I am about to give up, call myself a fool and go to bed when there is a hesitant knock at the door.
They tumble into my flat like nervous, excitable puppies, pausing briefly and not quite making eye contact. With them comes my bravado; I give a ‘hey’ that comes out even huskier than I’d intended, and they both look to me. I place myself between them and am immediately lost to hands and tongues. My questioning fingers find warm skin and hair under shirts and waistbands, my mouth finds each of theirs.
In the lounge room, I pour them each a whiskey, and then lead them into my bedroom before we have any chances to lose our momentum. They are quiet, polite, almost freakishly so given the strength of the booze I can smell on their breath. I point at the bed and they both take a seat on it, put their drinks on the bedside table, and unconsciously clasp their hands in their laps
There is almost enough space between them for me to sit, so I do. They move aside slightly so that I am comfortable; their heat comes at me from both sides, they both look at me – they’re still cautious. But oh I want them so much and I almost can’t believe this is happening, and I try to keep my face neutral and feel myself failing miserably.
I am wet, and have been since the knock on the door.
‘I’m glad you came,’ I say, and it sounds like such a terrible line, one of those things that should only be said if one is imitating some awful middle-aged British man.
A blush races up Nathan’s neck, and Cooper meets my eye and smiles. ‘Wouldn’t have missed it. Hey, thanks for having us.’
I roll my eyes, and Cooper’s smile turns into a grin.
‘I’m sorry. That was terrible.’
‘It was. It really, really was. I ought to kick you out on the street right now.’
‘Hey. There’s no need for that. Maybe I can make it up to you.’
He stands up and he pulls his tight fitted t-shirt over his head.
He draws Nathan to his feet and pulls Nathan’s shirt over his head. Nathan’s body is pale and smooth, with bones like etchings. They regard me silently.
‘Pants,’ I manage.
They reach for their belts.
‘Each other’s, please.’
Cooper pauses. Nathan looks hesitant. They reach out and unbuckle each other’s belts, then the button flies, and then they are helping each other remove those tight low-slung denim skins. Nathan hops a little and has to balance a hand on Cooper’s broad back. I have never been a fan of skinny jeans until this moment.
‘On the bed, please.’
I am nothing if not polite.
They sit close on either side of me. Cooper leans into me, confident and willing. Nathan hesitates, but I turn to him and see that while his shyness holds him firmly, in his grey-blue eyes is nothing but lust; his pupils are dilated and fixed on me. I cup his face in my hand and he melts against me.
Cooper reaches around from behind and his hand finds its way under my skirt from mid-thigh to cunt, slipping my knickers aside. His fingers have just the right combination of smooth and rough and I slick them down. His fingers circle my clit and already I am on edge. Nathan sits near, with his hands to himself, watching me. I lean over and kiss him; his lips are hot and forceful.
I turn to Cooper and direct him to lie down on the bed, as I stand to take off my underwear. Nathan goes to stand up, manners getting the best of him.
‘Stay right where you are,’ I say, and he stops still, embarrassed; he’s such a sweet boy.
I climb onto the bed and straddle Cooper’s head, lowering myself onto his face. He moans, low and guttural. The vibration of it spreads out from my vulva, through my pelvic bone and into my stomach. He puts his whole lower face into pleasuring me, his tongue and lips working my labia. My clit and his nose meet, protuberances meeting each other and making their presence felt.
Nathan’s hands cup my breasts, softly learning my flesh, nipples caught gentle-rough between thumbs and forefingers.
I run my fingers through Nathan’s hair and when I hear him give a little sigh, I wrap up my hand in a fistful of it and pull, and his chin jerks up, exposing his neck. He looks surprised, but his cock swells beneath his underwear. I smirk.
Cooper knows exactly what he is doing, hidden down there between my thighs, as his tongue strums my clit. He sucks my labia and I ride him harder and faster as the pressure builds in my cunt.
I pull Nathan to me by the makeshift ponytail I’ve made of his hair, thrusting my tongue into his mouth so he knows that, no matter how much they might think it otherwise, no matter how many times these boys make me come tonight, I am the one in control of the proceedings. I bite down on his lip and he makes a noise halfway between a yelp and a whimper of desire. I muffle it with my tongue.
He kisses me back insistently, a little sloppily, and what his mouth tells me is that he wants ever so much to please, that he wants to be a good boy and do what the nice lady says. I like the things that mouths can say without words. I like them a lot.
I pull back and he gazes into my eyes, cuntstruck.. I cup his cheek in my hand and he nudges against it. I smile, pulling it away from him and then bringing it back as a stinging slap. His eyes widen.
‘Did you like that?’
‘Yes.’ The word is a hoarse whisper, but I saw the way his cock jerked, a bold flesh underline to his assent.
I slap
him again.
‘Filthy slut.’
His cock has fought its way past the waistband of his underwear, and winks up at me imploringly, at attention. I slide my hand under the waistband run my index finger up the underside of it, from base to head; he lets out a surreptitious little moan. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cooper smile to himself, and I wonder if he’s seen this before. I wonder if he’s been the cause of this reaction himself.
‘Lie down,’ I murmur, stroking Nathan’s face. He doesn’t move. ‘Lie down for me, on your back. I’m going to ride you.’ I turn to look at Cooper. ‘You,’ we smile into each other’s eyes, complicit. This is not the way he was expecting this evening to play out. He is as intrigued by me as he is aroused. Top to top, we take each other in. I smile at him.
‘You can do whatever you like.’
He smiles back.
I grab a condom. Nathan lies back on the bed, watching me patiently, waiting for his next instruction. I ignore him, focusing instead on his cock, which quivers and jumps as I roll the condom down.
Nathan gasps, and Cooper gives an echo as he watches Nathan’s cock slide into me. I fuck him like my life depends on it, like everything in the world hinges on him and me and making sure that we get off. His eyes are saucer-wide, and his lips are stuck in a pursed little ‘o’, and it occurs to me that this is probably the most fucked he’s ever felt by a woman.
The brief thought of arse fucking him is almost enough to make me come then and there, and I banish it immediately, not wanting to give myself over quite yet
Cooper reaches around and rubs my clit. Hands and mouths and cocks and we are all just one beast given itself over to sensation.
My cunt grasps at Nathan’s cock, and I am forced to lean over him, our lips nearly touching, as Cooper continues to work my clit. I give myself over to orgasm once more, and in my fog I feel Nathan come, the pulsing spasms of his cock mirroring my own orgasm.
Cooper’s weight over me becomes too much, and I collapse on Nathan. Cooper joins me and we lie, panting, a pile of limbs and sweat and sated lust.
When I awake, the grey pre-dawn light infiltrates the curtains of my bedroom. The boys stir, and we disentangle ourselves with sleepy smiles and small sighs. I watch them find their scattered clothes and dress, and put on enough of my own clothing so I won’t get cold seeing them to the door.
I lead them to the front door and pause, not sure of the most appropriate way for us to say goodbye. Then they are on either side of me, hands everywhere, and I kiss Nathan, then Cooper, sweet whiskey breath mingling from all of us.
They slip out into the night and are gone, another figment, another footnote in my story of Fitzroy.
Lipstick
It took some time for me to hear the phone. It was only because the CD I was listening to, PJ Harvey’s 4 Track Demos, came to the end of a song that I heard it at all. I made a mad dash while the CD kept playing and answered the phone just as the caller was about to hang up.
‘Hello?’ I gasped.
‘Um…is this Ange?’ a vaguely familiar voice enquired.
‘Yeah,’ I panted, ‘Who’s this?’
‘My name's Jess, I’m a friend of your cousin Ellen? I’m ringing to invite you to her hen’s night next week. The twenty-fourth. You think you can make it? It’s at La Maison. Seven-thirty for dinner, then we go out raging.’
‘Uh, yeah’ I replied. Great, I thought, not another of these goddamn things. ‘Sure. I’m there. Anything special I need to bring?’
‘No, just yourself. We’ve got it all planned out. Nice to talk to you Ange! See you there!’
She hung up before I could muster the politeness for a goodbye. I put the receiver down and cursed her, Ellen, marriage and the whole world. I would have to go out and be sociable when I’d rather stay at home. And ‘raging’? Who even said that anymore? People who didn’t ever party as a general rule, I guessed. People who used the services of the Party Bus. Oh please, don’t let there be a party bus involved. The inevitable plastic penis regalia were going to be more than enough without a whole bus of screaming straight women. I hoped fervently that there would be no male stripper involved in any of the evening’s proceedings; a hen’s night celebration is not the time to come out to all your cousin’s friends.
Plus, while I loved my cousin Ellen, and her fiancé was, you know, fine, I really couldn’t see the point of marriage. Why would you put yourself through that if you didn’t have to? It wasn’t like it was a necessary requirement for doing anything else in life.
But I could hardly talk. It wasn’t exactly like I had a committed relationship myself.
I wandered back into the lounge room, where PJ Harvey was still at it, this time performing ‘Hardly Wait’: ‘It's been so long I've lost my taste…’
‘Yeah,’ I muttered, flopping on the couch, ‘I know how you feel.’
For once time passed quickly, and soon the week was over and it was time to go to Ellen’s party. In spite of myself, I was feeling a little enthusiastic, maybe even excited. I didn’t let it get the better of me though – I deliberately dressed down as much as possible, only checking to make sure my clothes were clean and the outfit didn't look too horrific overall, and applying a little makeup, including my signature lipstick, a bright scarlet red called Splendour. May as well pretend I was making an effort. It was, after all, Ellen’s night, and we’d been close friends growing up. She was one of the few people who seemed to respect me for who I was - which did make me wonder why she’d invited me, seeing as she knew how antisocial I am. Token gesture to keep up appearances, I guessed. Against my slightly misanthropic nature, though, I was kind of pleased to be included.
I made my way to the restaurant by foot, as it was within walking distance of my flat. The marks of autumn were already on the city; the leaves browning and falling off the trees, the air cooler than it had been for some months. I walked into the restaurant and realised I didn’t actually know what name the party I was with was under. As it turned out, this didn't matter anyway because a very hyperactive and slightly drunk Ellen screamed “Ange!” across the restaurant and came galloping to meet me, slinging an arm across my shoulders. The other patrons – not to mention the staff – looked on disapprovingly, but no one said anything. We walked and stumbled, respectively, to Ellen’s table, where she loudly introduced me as her dear cousin Ange and gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek. The others greeted me, and Jess told me how glad she was I’d come, gesturing me to sit beside her.
Ellen was a fright, dressed in some kind of veil someone had fashioned out of tulle and decorated with inflated condoms, sachets of lubricant, fake flowers, and several photos of her fiancé, Sam. The jokes and the sexual innuendo were running high, and I felt myself retreating into my shell, all too aware that I was out of place here, maybe even more so than the drunken female high jinks in this fancy restaurant.
While looking for some kind of escape, I noticed the girl on the other side of me. She looked almost as out of place as me, and although she was laughing and making jokes about Ellen and Sam’s sex life with the rest of them, she seemed a little lost, a little distant. Her hair was long and blonde, and looked bleached by sun rather than chemicals. Her skin was pale and covered with light freckles. She wore a tight black-and-white-striped t-shirt and a black skirt. Out of an unthinking curiosity, I glanced under the table and saw her feet were covered with strappy high-heeled shoes. I wondered if she felt the cold at all.
Maybe feeling the weight of my stare, she turned to me and gave me a smile.
‘Hi, you’re the famous Ange? Ellen has been loudly wondering where you’ve been for the last half hour.’ I blushed, knowing that my lateness was due to my hesitation about being there. She smiled. ‘Your cousin’s definitely an interesting person to be around. I’m Kate, by the way.’
‘Obviously I’m infamous around here, so I don't think I need an introduction. What dirt has Ellen been spreading about me?’
‘Only that you’re
her “favouritest” cousin the world. Oh, and that you streaked at your twenty-first.’
‘Great. All the keep-it-in-the-family stories are going to come out.’
She laughed, and for a moment I could admire her again without guilt. I noted with a little spark of pleasure that she seemed to have perked up considerably during the short time we’d been talking. She leaned across me to reach for the jug of water and I could smell her; hell, I could almost taste her. She gave me a smile and turned to talk to the girl on her left, and I struck up a conversation with Jess. About what, I couldn’t tell you now – only that it was trivial, and I was far too aware of Kate’s presence beside me. I nearly jumped out of my skin every time she moved.
For nearly an hour, we played this game. We would make small talk to each other, then pretend to talk to other people, almost ignoring each other, but we were both acutely aware of each other’s bodies, the heat we generated. At least I was, and I was positive she could feel my attraction to her from where she sat; it was strong enough to be a physical force. I was halfway through eating my main course when her thigh brushed mine, and I nearly choked. She began rubbing her leg up and down against mine in slow, deliberate strokes. I wished my skin were bare so that I could feel her flesh against mine without hindrance of clothing. I became ultra-focused on my breathing; it was becoming more jagged. I felt extremely warm. I glanced across at her and noticed that she seemed to be attempting to avoid my gaze, although a small smile flickered across her features. With no input from me, my hand began to slide under the table and towards her lap, seeking warmth from between her legs. I rested my hand on her bare thigh, just below the hem of her skirt, and she made no move to stop me. I inched the pinky finger of my left hand under the hem of her skirt, delighting in the feeling of the smooth silky skin usually hidden under her clothing. Without warning she grabbed my hand and pushed it up further along her leg, almost so that my index finger rested against her vulva. From where my hand sat, the hot moisture of her radiated out, telling me she was excited. I felt myself begin to respond, blood rushing to my pussy and thighs, making me feel slightly lightheaded and very aroused.
The Mercy of Strange Men: Erotic Stories Page 3