by Jade Stone
I turned to look at him.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“I read your magazine. Sometimes your photo is next to your articles.”
There was a pregnant pause before he continued.
“They’re great articles. I really enjoy your writing.”
He obviously didn’t know I’d been fired. And I didn’t want to get into that.
“Good for you,” I said. “Glad to hear you can read.”
“Now why you gotta talk like that?” he asked. “I’m not being rude, but you certainly are.”
Not even I could believe how rude I was being. I also couldn’t believe he was staying. He must have really wanted that gin.
I finally relented somewhat. I lifted the bottle and poured some into his glass.
“I have lemonade in the refrigerator if you want to mix it,” I told him.
“This is just fine,” he replied, taking a swig.
We sat in silence for what felt like a very long time. Only the sound of the cicadas chirping, the breaking of the waves in the distance, and the rustling of the leaves in the trees could be heard. It was big news that he and his wife had separated recently. Again. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but I decided I would.
“I am really sorry to hear about you and your wife,” I told him.
Jamie shrugged.
“I think it’s for the best. She said it’s over for real this time, so I am adjusting. Its better it happens now, before I become a tired old man.”
I knew he was forty-three, and he looked far from an old man. He was ten years older than me, and looked no older than I was. As far as I was concerned, he and his wife would be getting back together. Even out of show business, I have seen these types of relationships all around me. They are addicted to each other, and they always go back. But I didn’t tell him these thoughts.
He was sitting close, but not close enough to touch me. As he moved, his arm almost brushed mine. I felt a twitch between my legs just at the mere thought of his touch. I looked out into the ocean, which was looking hazy already from the gin I had consumed before he arrived. I was almost glad I was drunk—I’m not sure I could have handled being in this sexy man’s presence if I was sober. Not when I was feeling such a lust toward him.
“Well, I think we can both guess why I’m here getting drunk during the day,” he began. “What’s your story?”
I took another sip from my bottle.
“I have no story,” I replied.
He chuckled.
“Aren’t you a writer?”
“Exactly. I got fired.”
“So get a new job.”
“I will. But I need some time out first. I got a large sum to leave, and I don’t want to work for a little while.”
He reached over and put his hand on my gin bottle.
“This is not the answer,” he told me, gently taking it out of my hands.
His hand almost touched mine as he did it, but not quite. My breath caught in my throat at the nearness, and the twitch between my legs turned into a throb. Jamie poured some liquid into his now-empty tumbler glass. He had some gall to judge me about drinking...
“Yes, I know, I’m the last person you should listen to, but you know I’m right,” he said, taking a sip. “Find another job and start working again. Don’t get mad, get even.”
I said nothing.
“You aren’t here just because of your job loss, are you?” he asked me. “What else happened?”
I guess it takes one to know one.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied.
“What was his name?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped.
I was now really drunk.
“Okay,” he said, putting up his hand. “Sorry.”
I suppose anyone who followed my articles would have noticed I started using a different surname last year. Obviously, Jamie had guessed correctly that it wasn’t because I got married. It was over a year ago, and it still felt weird using my maiden name again. I’d been using my ex-husband’s surname for nearly ten years.
“I better be going,” he said. “It was nice to meet you.”
As he got up from the grass, his arm finally brushed mine. Again, my breath caught in my throat, and the throb between my legs returned tenfold. I wanted to say goodbye, but I literally could not get any sound out.
As he was walking away, I finally found my voice.
“Hey!” I called.
He turned. I tried my best to smile.
“Uh, if you want to join me tomorrow, I’ll be here. Same time, same place.”
“Yes, I got the impression you’re here most of the time,” he replied.
I smiled my drunken smile and shrugged.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, slowly nodding at me. He held my gaze before finally leaving.
I returned to looking at the sea, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves and the throbbing that continued between my legs. I didn’t mean to be so rude to him, but I didn’t want to discuss my firing, or the end of my marriage, with anyone right now. Certainly not someone I hadn’t met before. Because it still hurt like hell. Because, unlike his marriage, which seemed to be hell, there seemed to be no reason for my marriage ending. It just wasn’t happening anymore. I’d heard about the raging public arguments Jamie had had with his wife, and that infamous sex tape that had been released, which I had actually seen. And I almost felt envious of them. Almost. Because arguing is still communicating. Because they were still having sex. My ex-husband and I never argued. By the time we finished, we hadn’t had sex for nearly two years. I can’t say what happened, because that was why we finished. Because nothing happened.
I hadn’t been much interested in Jamie’s infamous sex tape; someone had shown it to me on a phone at a party years ago. The video was mostly dark, but the viewer got the gist of it. He had a very large cock, and his wife certainly knew how to give a good blowjob.
It felt strange having met this man when I knew what his cock looked like. And how big it was. I remembered the way his wife sucked his cock, sucking it hard like she couldn’t get enough of it, and I could tell she wasn’t acting. I had sucked my husband off like that in the beginning, but until this chance meeting this morning, I hadn’t thought about sucking anyone’s cock for a very long time. I had almost forgotten what sex was like.
But something had been awakened. I put my hand between my legs and felt the dampness of my panties. I thought of the man next door, and that huge cock of his, and the moisture increased on my hand. I went back into the house and took a cold shower.
The next morning, I ensured I had another cold shower before I headed back to the garden at eleven o’ clock.
I smelt him before I saw him. The familiar smell of cologne, the same as the day before.
As he took his place next to me, I turned and smiled at him, feeling a much better sense of confidence knowing I had shampooed my hair and shaved my legs. He’d already seen me in my night time wear, so this time I made sure I was wearing a sexier night dress than the one yesterday. I was also wearing no underwear.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Better than yesterday,” I replied.
“Why is that?”
“You were right about me,” I said. “I do need to start working again soon.”
He smiled as I eyed the bottle of gin in his hand. He had obviously gone out and bought a whole new bottle to replace the small amount I had given him yesterday.
“Just not today,” I said, taking the bottle from his hand.
“But today you’re going to drink from a glass,” he told me, showing me two tumbler glasses.
I grinned and poured us both a drink. He raised his glass.
“To us,” he said. “To...whatever we are.”
We both laughed, and his arm brushed mine as the glass met my lips. I was so turned on that I almost choked on the liquid as it burned down my throat.
So far, I had received no indication that he was interested in me. But I had thought out my plan the night before. I had planned to get us both in the mood, and I was going to try my luck right here in the garden. There was no one around. No one would see us. If he wasn’t interested, well, that was fine as well. I was used to being here by myself for long enough now.
But my plan was instantly thwarted.
“I was wondering if you would do me a favour,” he said.
“Uh, it depends what it is...” I replied.
“The moment I saw you, I wanted to paint you. Would you allow me to paint you?”
I was stunned. I hadn’t seen that coming. I had seen his work, which was incredible. I was so flattered, I didn’t know what to say.
“Uh.... I guess...” I finally said.
“I would like to paint you as Medusa.”
“Medusa??” I spluttered.
Any sexual tension I had been feeling instantly evaporated. The thought of that ugly, slimy character was a right fantasy killer. Now I really didn’t know what to say. I felt too insulted. Jamie chuckled.
“Believe me, when you see it, you’ll feel a little differently,” he said.
He touched my arm and looked deep into my eyes.
“Will you come with me, right now? Before we get too drunk.”
His touch, and his gaze, was so powerful it had put me into a trance. Speechless, I rose from the grass and allowed him to lead me over to his beach house on the next property.
His art space was on the ground floor. It was like any artist’s space, cluttered with paints and canvas all over the place.
“Will you sit on that stool?” he asked.
I did as I was told, and he took a seat behind a ready waiting canvas. I don’t know if it was the alcohol I had consumed that morning, but I was able to contently sit on that stool for several hours. I asked a few times if I could see how he was progressing, but he refused. He was mostly hidden behind what he was doing, but every so often, he would look out and peer at me. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down my spine. So I sat in that chair, thinking bad thoughts about the artist, while he continued painting. I only got up once, for a glass of water and a restroom break. I’ll admit, some of my attraction toward him had waned. I simply couldn’t get my head around why he wanted to paint me as ugly old Medusa...
When he finally said he was finished, it was almost dark. He spun the canvas around so I could see it. I stared at what he had done. I could tell it was me in the painting, but even I was struck by my own beauty. The red and green snakes flowing from my head crowned my face. I was naked from the waist up, one hand raised to cover my breasts, the other raised to stroke the head of one of the snakes.
“Oh my god...” I breathed.
It was the most sensual, erotic picture I had ever seen. And the face was mine...
He picked it up.
“Here, it is for you to take home. Do with it whatever you want,” he said.
I was still speechless.
“How did you make me so beautiful?” I whispered.
“It wasn’t hard...” he whispered back.
I looked up at him, his face more handsome than ever in the soft evening light. I reached out to take the painting, and my hand touched his. Before I could take hold of the canvas, I felt his fingers against mine. Our fingers interlaced, and the painting slipped to the floor. He pulled me toward him, and my mouth met his. His tongue melted into my mouth as his arms wrapped around my body. His hands caressed down my back, slowly reaching my ass. I felt his hard cock against my stomach. I went to undo his belt buckle, but before I could, he swept me up in his strong arms.
“Do you want to see my bedroom?” he asked me huskily.
“Absolutely...” I replied, just as huskily.
Still kissing me, he carried me out of the art room and up the stairs. We reached the bedroom, and he lay me down on the bed. I pulled him on top of me. We made out for a while as I savoured the feeling of being in the arms of a man who wanted me, desired me. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years.
He peeled down my black nightdress, watching my breasts spill out as it came down. He lowered his head and his mouth met my nipple, his hand caressing my other breast as he sucked hard. I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair as his mouth released my nipple, leaving it erect and shining in his saliva, and he moved toward my other breast. My hands moved down to his muscular back, and his mouth left my breast and started kissing down my chest. He raised my nightdress and started kissing down my stomach, going lower and lower. I gasped as his mouth met the wet, awaiting flesh between my legs, which had been throbbing for him since we met. I raised one of my legs over his back as he licked my pussy with soft, long strokes, pressing against my clit, before sliding down again and flicking inside me. I moaned and writhed on the bed as he continued, making his strokes and licks a little faster, driving me insane with ecstasy. Just as I thought I was going to explode in his mouth, he raised his head and kneeled between my legs. He started to take his shirt off as I grabbed his belt buckle. I undid his belt and opened his pants, and his cock came out. It was even bigger than it had appeared in the video. I took it in my hand and stroked him down, but before I could do it for long, he pressed down, and I felt it at my opening. I almost cried out as his cock pierced into me, but the pain immediately turned to pleasure as my pussy accepted the hugeness of his cock.
I parted my legs as far as I could as he lay down on top of me again, his mouth meeting mine. He held me tight as he began to thrust into me. I cried out at the first thrust, and even louder at the second. I had never felt a cock this good. I continued to cry out in pleasure as he slammed into me, again and again. I felt him tense up at the same time I did, and we grasped each other as we both climaxed. I threw my head back hard into the pillows as his cock slid into me at the end, before he came inside me, filling me with his juices as my pussy convulsed all around it and I writhed beneath him.
We lay in each other’s arms for a long time. He finally pulled himself out and collapsed on the bed beside me.
He reached over and stroked my face.
“We need to end our addictions,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I replied.
“I’m not going back,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“No, I mean I’m not going back to my wife,” he said.
I almost snorted.
“I’ve filed for divorce. I’ve been following you in the magazine for a long time. I love your work. I want to get to know you a lot better, Simone.”
I remained silent.
“Is this the first night you’ve been sober since...how long? It’s the same for me,” he said. “Let’s start again. Sober. Together.”
I finally turned to him. We looked into each other’s eyes, and he stroked my face again.
“Deal,” I whispered.
He held me close as we kissed again. And I realised, for the first time in a very long time, I had everything I needed. Without one drop of alcohol.
Mrs. Peppermint Tea
We have a huge hedge maze at the back of our estate. It was one of the features that attracted us to the place, though for me it was actually the incredible indoor pool complete with a bar and movie screen. But Selena has always dreamed of having a hedge maze. Selena saw the hedge, I saw the pool, and it was a done deal.
The maze is similar to the one in The Shining: thirteen-foot-high hedges, perfect for hide and go seek, minus axes and Jack Nicholson. Thankfully, when we found the place, we had both just come into a large amount of money. I had just signed on for another three years with my football team, and Selena had just signed on for the third series of her very successful TV show.
I often smirk to myself when our friends come over and get so excited at the pool and the hedge maze. If they knew what we did in there, I don’t know if they’d be so keen to dive inside them...
My wife is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. She’s British, and is the epi
tome of an English Rose. Long, flowing black hair, ivory skin, and bright green eyes. Impeccable dress sense, and impeccable manners. She’s also the dirtiest woman I’ve ever met. You would never guess it by looking at her, but that’s what is so sexy about her. I was very sexually experienced when I met her six years ago—well, at least I thought I was... I was twenty-seven; she was a year older. We had been dating for six months, and our sex life was incredible—I don’t think there was a sex position we hadn’t tried. But we hadn’t tried one of my favourite indulgences... I decided it was time to ask if we could try anal. She had never given anything away about whether she was into it or not, and I had no idea how she would respond. I’ve had women in the past almost spit on me for suggesting it, and others who were keen only after they were asked.
To my delight, Selena was deadly keen for it...but I had no idea what she would suggest in return. I remain a bit shocked to this day. It is not something she does often, and it not something I would ever request, or even talk about. I do not speak of this with the boys at the club.
I always know when she wants to do it. She requests I bring her a cup of peppermint tea. It is part of her ritual, and almost as though she is testing my reaction, waiting for me to decline. But I have never declined. I would just never openly admit that I enjoy it.
After showering at the gym after training, I get a text from her. She asks what I am up to. I tell her I’ve just come out of the shower. When I’ve finished dressing, I get the second text. She wants a cup of peppermint tea. I feel my dick immediately twitch in my jeans, and my breathing gets quicker. I put the phone in my pocket, say goodbye to the boys, and get in my truck.
On the way home, my dick swells in my pants, knowing what I am coming home to. I will wait until I am in the driveway before I ask her where she is. It could be anywhere. She sometimes likes to wait for me in the middle of the maze, making me find her. Other times, she is by the pool, where she orders me into the water before she has her way with me. Or she could be curled up in bed, lying amongst the luxurious pillows and bedding.
I imagine what she is wearing. She’s always wearing one of her amazing negligees, usually black, which beautifully magnifies her ivory skin with the contrast. My heart begins to thud in anticipation...and discomfort. Even after six years, I am not fully used to this.