Champagne Secrets

by Amanda Brunker

  Seeing my amusement at the sight of his red polka-dot oven gloves, Rory said defensively, ‘They were a present from my mother!’ before slipping them on to a chair and making his way over to me.

  Not wanting him to think I was laughing at him, as it was a rare treat to have any man cook for me, I waved the book and asked, ‘Are you in it?’

  With a disappointed face he sighed. ‘No, not yet,’ he said, before giving me a cheeky wink and smiling. ‘My greatest work is yet to come.’

  Not sure if he was hinting at his personal or professional endeavours, I asked, ‘So, do you think of me as work, then?’

  Rory said swiftly, ‘No. I think of you as purely pleasure.’ But it wasn’t the answer I was looking for, and the expression on my face evidently reflected that.

  ‘Oh, don’t look sad,’ Rory pleaded. ‘I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just meant that I’m only just coming into my prime professionally. I’ve so much that I still want to achieve. But I also know that I’ve a great deal to look forward to in my private life, too.’ He looked me straight in the eye till he saw me blush. ‘There she is. Listen, it’s very early days with us, and I don’t want to come on too strong and frighten you off, but I’m smitten by you. And, well, I hope that we can make a go of things here. Is it OK to say that?’

  Not expecting such commitment, I felt myself go weak at the knees, and it was a few moments before I could find the words, ‘Of course it’s OK to say … I mean, it’s more than OK.’ As I looked into his dark green eyes, I could see a twinge of disillusion. Angry at myself for not responding better to his plans, I quickly kissed him and explained, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so down in the dumps. It’s just that I’ve had my heart broken before, and, well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t make big statements unless you plan on following them up.’ I put my hand over his mouth, as more words felt that they needed to pop out of mine. ‘If I’m honest, I’m gonna put myself out on a limb here and say that, yes, I’m also a smitten kitten. I think you’re amazing, and now the idea that you cook? Well, you’re starting to come across as too perfect. Which is a worry, because I’m not. And, well—’

  ‘Hold it there, please,’ interrupted Rory. ‘Stop.’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Stop panicking. There’s no need. No one calls me amazing until they’ve tasted my food. Then, by all means, you can give me a five-star rating.’

  Understanding that this was far too deep and meaningful a conversation to have with a sober head, I let Rory kiss me again on the lips as he held me lovingly. When he pulled back he gave me an adorable smile and simply said, ‘Let’s just sit down and have something to eat. No pressure, OK?’

  Nodding in agreement, I quickly changed the subject. ‘It smells gorgeous, by the way. What is it?’

  ‘It’s a lamb dish. I hope that’s to your liking?’

  ‘I’d eat the leg of the chair, I’m that hungry.’

  ‘Good stuff. Well, this is a favourite of mine. I hope you like it. I used to go out with an Indian girl who was an amazing cook, so I stole all of her best recipes.’

  Still slightly nervy, I teased, ‘I’m sure that’s not the only thing you stole from her!’

  But instead of giving a defensive reply, he came over all dewy-eyed, and smiled. ‘Nipa was great. She taught me a lot.’

  Curious if she’d broken his heart, I cautiously asked, ‘What happened?’

  ‘She died a couple of years ago now, in a road accident. Nipa was a motivational speaker. She was on her way home from a talk one evening when the car she was driving collided with a wall. They reckon she fell asleep at the wheel. Hopefully, she never knew what hit her.’

  Totally surprised, I apologized for making light of his ex, but he seemed to take it all in his stride.

  ‘It’s OK. She was a Hindu. She believed in reincarnation. I do, too. So I know that she’s around somewhere, happy and living life to the full.’

  ‘Wow! That’s a really positive way of looking at things.’

  ‘Is there any other way to look at life and death?’

  ‘No one close to me has ever died. A girl once did after being at a house party that Parker had a couple of years ago, and I found that quite hard to deal with. None of us knew her – she just arrived and then suddenly got sick. But that was nothing. It must have been so tough for you, to lose a girlfriend like that, in such a tragic way.’

  ‘It was,’ he admitted. ‘But life goes on, and I believe that she still watches out for me.’

  Chancing a joke, I asked, ‘Is she in the room now – like, a fly on the ceiling?’

  And, seeing the funny side, Rory laughed before saying, ‘Her name did mean “one who watches over”. Whatever about now, I’m hoping she’s not hanging around later. Well, I’d hate her to have to watch some of the things I have in mind for …’ He let out a cheeky laugh. ‘But seriously, I do feel that she has taken care of me in some way. Look, I’ve gotten myself into a few sticky situations when out working, and I just felt that there was someone looking after me.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Hey, I wasn’t trying to intimidate you.’

  ‘Gosh, might be a bit late for that. I’m just hoping she approves of me, and doesn’t poison me with her curry.’

  ‘Come here to me.’ Rory chuckled. ‘You’ve no ghost to live up to. Nipa was human, too. She wasn’t saintly. But maybe she found you for me? She wouldn’t have wanted me to be lonely.’ Seeing that he needed to put the fun spirit back into the evening, he put on a spooky voice and teased, ‘Yes, you are the chosen one! Waa, haa, ha, ha!’ And as he tickled me, my worries started to lift, and my inner diva began to return. I was never going to be able to compete with a dead woman, so why bother trying? If he was speaking from the heart, maybe she did matchmake us? It wasn’t exactly the most conventional of get-togethers after all. In the immortal words of Doris Day I just had to accept that whatever will be, will be …

  Although Lamb-à-la-Nipa was a little bit spicy for my Oirish palate, it did give me a thirst, which in itself helped me relax and forget my inhibitions. Not wanting to bring up any ex-partners, either his or mine, we talked work: mostly his adventures across continents vast and dangerous, as well as some of my hopes for the future. As always when I got misty-eyed, I spoke about writing a book, and how I would love to do a scriptwriting course, and it was only after I forgot myself and mentioned working for YES! magazine that I remembered that Rory only knew me as a waitress from Sir Charlie’s.

  ‘You’re a journalist back in Ireland?’ he interrupted, looking surprised. ‘How come you never mentioned it before now?’

  Doing my best to fob him off, I said, ‘Oh, it’s just a sideline thing, really,’ and kept my fingers crossed that he’d forget all about it. Of course he didn’t. Being a man who had worked in war zones and doorstepped criminals, he wasn’t the type to not be curious, and he wouldn’t let it drop.

  ‘So what sort of stuff did you write, exactly? Are we talking beauty, fashion, true life?’

  ‘Hardly!’ I laughed. ‘Just silly things, really. The odd movie or theatre review. A bit of red-carpet stuff. Nothing very important. It didn’t rate compared to your photography, so that’s why I didn’t mention it. Honestly, it was just a brief thing. I’d rather you forgot all about it.’

  Perplexed, Rory grabbed his mobile from the end of the couch and declared, ‘Well, let me be the judge of how insignificant you were at YES! I presume they have a website, yeah? Let’s Google that now, and—’

  ‘Oh! Stop!’ I pleaded. ‘Please don’t. I bet you, I won’t even be there.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, I can’t imagine I’d be credited anywhere on it.’

  ‘OK, here we are. YES! magazine. Ohhh, very sexy website, there’s Lunch With Lucy. Fashion, with some very badly dressed, over-accessorized he-slash-she and … No, there’s no Alice. Oh, that’s a pity, isn’t it? I can’t see you here.’

  Jumping up to kiss him and distract
his attention from any further research, I laughed. I said, ‘I told you so,’ before snatching his phone off him and throwing it back across the couch. Ignoring his pleas to be handed his phone back, I instead gave him my seductive eyes and whispered, ‘It’s getting late, are you not getting worried about the time?’

  ‘No, why?’ asked Rory. ‘What time is it?’

  Trying to keep a straight face, I whispered again, ‘I think it’s time you took me to bed.’

  ‘Ohhh, do you now, madam?’

  ‘Yes, I do, sir. And while there’s a time and a place for after-show party sex, there’s also a time for good, old-fashioned bed-bonking. This is that time.’

  ‘But what if I said that I would quite like to make love to you tonight all slow and sensual?’

  Liking where this was leading, I continued, ‘Well, firstly, I’d ask: where would you start? And then, secondly, I’d ask: when can you start?’

  ‘Well, my Irish rose, I can simply answer both of those questions in one go, by doing this …’ Then, taking me totally by surprise, Rory swept his arms around me, picked me up and walked with me to the bedroom like he was a groom carrying me over the threshold. It made me feel all girlie, and I whooped with joy as he talked me through his plan of action. ‘I’m gonna strip you. I’m gonna lick you. I’m gonna taste you. And then, when your body doesn’t think it can take any more pleasure, I’m gonna start all over again!’

  The second he threw me on the bed, I lifted my loose jersey top over my shoulders and started to wriggle out of my tight skinny jeans. By the time I was down to my well-thought-out and coordinating black-lace bra and thong, Rory had kicked off his jeans and tee, had kindly removed his socks, and was down to his crisp white boxer shorts, which were bulging promisingly in all the right places.

  ‘I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours …’ he teased, throwing me the glad eye. Taking the lead, I cheekily flashed him a nipple. Laughing with the frustration, Rory declared, ‘You might want to play hard to get, but I certainly don’t,’ and he pushed down his boxers and threw them straight at me. As they slapped me in the face so did his fresh, musky scent, and tingles instantly shot around my body. I showed my appreciation by keeping the pants over my face and cooing, ‘Mmmm. Delicious.’ Before I had a chance to look out from under them, Rory had straddled me, and begun to slowly push my shoulders back down on to the bed. Since Rory didn’t remove my blindfold, neither did I; instead I just relaxed and allowed him to circle my body with his hands and his mouth, while anticipating his next moves in my mind.

  In preparation for the night ahead, I had waxed and shaved every inch of my body, before tanning and polishing off my skin with a bronzer. Giving myself the best chance of looking cellulite and stretch-mark free, I felt as confident about my body as I was ever going to, and with that in my head I knew that I was going to have fun. Although there was a faint hum of music coming through from the living room, we were doing a pretty good job creating our own sounds. Both of us were groaning with desire, each of us needing and wanting this time together. This was a completely different experience to the last time we were intimate. It was comfortable, and there was no sense of urgency. Just as good as I remembered it, his cock had a powerfully solid feel as it rubbed off my stomach and across my thighs.

  Despite having played the submissive role up to now, I all of a sudden felt the need to take control, so in a fit of passion I threw off my cotton mask, demanded that he roll over, and jumped on top of him like a feral alley cat. Clearly happy to go along with any of my suggestions, Rory’s face beamed with joy as I swished my hair across his body and then, with a bit of effort, began to masturbate his dick between my breasts. Being only a B cup it wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but from the reaction on his face, I seemed to be doing an impressive job. So I kept pushing myself, and stroked him up and down, up and down, keeping my eyes looking up at his the entire time, watching his responses and, of course, striving to make it more intense with every thrust. Worried that I could be starting to chafe him, I kneeled away for a second, and quickly knotted my hair back off my face in a bundle.

  Looking concerned, Rory asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

  But all I offered back was, ‘How wrong is this?’ as I placed my mouth fully around his now bright pink, throbbing dick. He released a wave of noise as I almost reached the base of his shaft with my lips. I tried to get to the bottom, but I couldn’t – he was literally too big for me to swallow. He tasted good, though. It had been a while since I had had a cock in my mouth, and there was something extra-erotic about his. It looked nice – it was clean and tidy, and the little hair he had was well-trimmed and stayed where it was meant to. If you ignored the ghost of a dead ex-girlfriend, who was probably now reincarnated as a wasp and sitting on the wardrobe watching us in a jealous rage, this guy had everything I was looking for.

  For a split second I thought about stopping what I was doing, lifting my head up and blurting out my secrets. That way I could make him promise to forgive me. Let’s face it, men would promise anything during sex. As Rory’s panting and grunting became louder and more powerful, I brought my mind back to what my mouth was up to. With Rory close to climaxing, I didn’t want to lose momentum. I continued to run my tongue around the head of his penis, while firmly massaging him in a faster and rougher fashion. I had to make the decision: would I swallow? Or would I chicken out and let him cum over my chest? Thinking of all the effort he had gone to for me during the evening, I decided to give him the full diva treatment, and stayed with it. His body began to spasm and shake, and I watched his eyes and face crunch up as if in pain. As I worked his cock into the side of my cheek I suddenly felt his entire body tremble, almost violently, and my mouth began overflowing with his spunk. Trying to seem in control, I did my best to swallow as much as possible, which was fine as it wasn’t foul-tasting. Carefully whipping any excess leakage away with my hands, I left his body mess-free and Rory seriously impressed!

  ‘Fucking hell,’ he whooped, as he ran his hands over his beard, up over his eyes, and up through his hair to punch the air. ‘You have been sent from heaven, I tell ya. No one told me Catholic school taught ya that!’

  Basking in my glory, I snuggled up to cuddle with him, and nestled in under his arm, while twirling the small hairs on his chest with my finger. I was just getting settled in when Rory pushed me back a little and said, ‘And now for your turn.’

  Despite my pleas of, ‘I’m fine. I’m happy to cuddle,’ Rory leapt up off the bed.

  ‘Hold that thought,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in two seconds.’

  Not sure if he was going to return with a ten-inch dildo, a gimp mask or even a butt plug, I was relieved to see him brandishing a squeezable jar of maple syrup. ‘What’s that for?’ I asked playfully.

  ‘It’s for you.’ He smiled proudly. ‘I’m gonna lick it all into you.’

  My confidence was instantly knocked. I covered my crotch with my hands. ‘What’s wrong? Do I smell?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Look, would I do this if I thought you tasted bad?’ With that he pushed my thighs apart so he could slowly slide two of his fingers up inside me. Only to remove them and stick them in his mouth, cooing, ‘You taste, mmmm, finger lickin’ good, baby. This maple syrup is just for fun. So stop your worrying.’

  Liking his sense of adventure, my own naughtiness returned, and I began to bounce around the bed pulling different poses and asking, ‘Would you like to get saucy here? Or maybe you’d like to get saucy over here?’ Rory had to chase me a little to pin me down, but eventually he got a firm grip on my legs. Settling myself in a comfortable position, I found it hard not to scream with the giddiness. Dizzy with the idea of having my privates smeared in pancake sauce, I joked, ‘My boobs might be small, but at least this pancake chest of mine was good enough to do the business earlier, remember?’

  ‘Oh, I’m still remembering.’ He smiled. ‘And for that I am extremely grateful to you and your dirty mouth. But now the only resemblance y
ou have to a pancake is that I’m going to flip you over like one – on to your front.’ As he spoke he manoeuvred me on to all fours, pushing my shoulders down on the bed. This left my ass exposed in the air, and without any further talk Rory pulled apart my cheeks and began oozing lashings of thick maple syrup all over my behind. Feeling dense and cool straight from the cupboard, the sauce almost sizzled over my hot, sweaty body. As my excitement began to build, I pushed my head under a pillow, and opened myself up as much as possible to allow Rory to devour me.

  ‘You’re already sweet,’ he whispered. ‘Now you’re sticky and sweet.’ And with that he nuzzled his nose and tongue in close, and began licking and rubbing me, arousing me in his own sloppy and unique way. With previous lovers the loud squelching noises might have made me squirm with embarrassment, but that was not the case with Rory. Even though it usually took me about ten minutes to orgasm with oral sex, this time I was screaming for mercy within a couple of short minutes. Although I was disappointed that I couldn’t last longer, a big part of me was content that I was able to fall into his arms again afterwards and hold his skin close against mine.

  As he slid in beside me with the face of a child who had licked their plate clean, I pretended to slobber over him like a puppy, and the two of us laughed out loud with joy at such a successful make-out session. Unable to wipe the grins off our faces, we continued to giggle like teenagers for ages, until our body heat began to cool, and we needed to climb under the covers to keep warm. As much as I wanted my body to remain tangled up with his all night, I knew that I couldn’t stay much longer: Maura had told me she had errands to do first thing. Even if she hadn’t, I couldn’t let the kids witness me staggering in the door as they sat at the breakfast table munching on their porridge!

  I needed an exit strategy, but I also still needed to find the motivation to leave him. As we huddled under the covers, he tenderly played with my hair and rubbed my shoulders to keep me warm. We resumed our conversation from dinner earlier, and our chat about life and the pursuit of happiness went on late into the small hours. Eventually, though, I could sense that Rory was getting weak with tiredness, even though like me he was fighting it to make our date last for as long as possible. Making the brave move, I finally announced, ‘OK, that’s it, folks. The party is now officially over.’