“I had Mickey taken care of,” he whispered as we lay in the dark, “he was becoming a bit of a problem.”
My heart beat faster in my chest for a moment and then I felt a ridiculous wave of relief. He had saved me again, just like he always did. I wrapped my arm tighter around his body and kissed his chest. “Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness.
Mad Fer It In Manchester
By Victoria Blisse
Bored. No two ways about it, I am bored. The worrying thing is we’re only half an hour into this day of training. I never used to tell my mum I was bored when I was younger, she’d find me chores to do if I did, but right now I could go for mopping the cellar steps or reorganising the linen closet.
I really didn’t want to come to this stupid thing anyway but I had to, it’s a required course and there are members of the company from all over the north west here today. At least I only had my usual daily commute into Manchester to negotiate. Nothing new there.
But the sun is shining, a real rarity of late in the murky north and I want to be out in it, soaking up the heat, enjoying an ice cream and ogling all the cute guys with shorts on and tops off. I’m otherwise engaged though. All day this stupid seminar will drone on. I do hope I don’t fall asleep.
“Geez, I’m sorry I’m late.” A flurry of suit, briefcase and hot guy explodes through the conference room door. “I got stuck in the most evil traffic on the M60 and then I got turned around in the one way system.”
“That’s quite alright,” the leader of this bore-fest says through gritted teeth, “please sit yourself down now Mr—?”
“Carter, Stuart Carter.”
“Take a seat, Mr Carter and let’s get on.”
Stuart smiles, nods and scurries over the room to sit in the chair beside me. I grin up at him sympathetically and he responds with a wink.
What a gorgeous man. His eyes are dark like treacle toffee, his hair a similar shade but with golden syrup streaks bleached in by the summer sun. His chin is chiselled, completely clean shaven and his lips are ripe raspberries, plump for the kissing.
All these food analogies mean I must be hungry. Though right now I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for Stuart. I roll my thick wodge of sheets over the table to share with him and point out where we are.
“Thanks,” he whispers and covers my hand with his and squeezes in gratitude. My stomach flips, heat pools in my cheeks and I wiggle in my seat as I become very aware of my damp, plumped up lower lips. Bloody hell, I’m so very turned on and he’s only brushed his fingers over mine. Now I’m thinking about other places he could run his fingers over. Blimey, it’s gotten hot all of a sudden.
I don’t think the informative training gets any more interesting, I don’t know because I’m not listening at all, I’m too busy day dreaming and taking sneaky peeks at Stuart. I swear I am an adult, all grown up and mature enough not to fawn over the boy I fancy. But I feel like a heady teenager when his gaze meets mine as I look at him again. My cheeks burn and I drop my gaze to the table before me. Why was he looking at me? Was I staring at him? Did I have half my breakfast stuck in my teeth, was I drooling?
Maybe, just maybe, he was checking me out, too.
“So, what’s your name?” Stuart turns to me in the queue for coffee at the break.
“Lauren,” I reply, “you’re Stuart, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Which branch you from?”
“Manchester, you?”
“Liverpool.”
Silence falls as I pour a cup of coffee for myself then for him, too.
“So, did I miss anything this morning?”
“Nah, it’s been boring as hell since the start.”
“Oh, I’m glad you said that, I thought it was just me bored out of my brains.”
“No you’re definitely not alone there.”
“So that’s why you were looking at me.”
I splutter mid-mouthful of coffee.
“No…well, yes but no.”
“As long as I’ve not got toothpaste all over my collar or something, it’s fine.” He smiles. I think he’s teasing me.
“No, no toothpaste, just a huge bogey on your nose.”
He raises his hand to touch the tip of it. I giggle.
“Cheeky,” he laughs, “I believed you then.”
Coffee break doesn’t last long enough at all and so I’m back at the table listening to Ms. Boring droning on again. I don’t really mind, I’m still not paying her any attention. I am trying to work out if Stuart is just friendly or if he’s actually flirting with me. I always struggle with the difference. I’ve been rejected by guys I was certain were into me and missed out on others who’ve been crazy over me. I always second guess myself. I’m bubbly and mostly happy with my curves but years of fat taunts have taken their toll on my confidence and so I spend too much time worrying instead of acting on sexy impulses.
I don’t have time to beat around the bush here if I want to get it on with Stuart—and I do, I really do—I need to act fast. I’m just pondering what to say to him when I am surprised to feel a warm hand brushing my thigh. I imagine it’s a mistake at first and then the pressure increases and my flesh is being squeezed and even I know that is a signal that a guy wants to be more than friends.
Holy shit, Stuart is interested in me. I glance to the side and he winks at me. I hold in a moan when his touch rises along my inner thigh and under my boring grey work skirt. Bloody hell, he’s not hanging around. My heart palpitates and I wonder just how far he’s going to take this, here in public. Okay, so no one’s looking under the table but still, I feel very exposed and I don’t know what he’s going to do next, I’m not sure if I am scared or excited or if there’s some weird mixture of the two emotions blending within me.
Both of my hands are on top of the desk so I surreptitiously slide one down and under the table. In a brave, or maybe stupid, move I place my hand over his on my thigh and squeeze. I wait a second, holding my breath and then he squeezes my thigh in response. Holy crap, I do believe I have just successfully made a move on a man. But what do I do next?
“Okay, everyone, we’ll call that quits for now. You’ve got an hour for your dinner, be back here at one thirty prompt, please.”
Luckily I don’t need to make a decision.
“Where shall we go for lunch?” Stuart asks as we stand and untangle hands and thighs.
“Let’s just grab some sandwiches, there’s a shop over the road and then we can eat them in the gardens near the fountain.”
“Good choice,” he smiles and my insides do cartwheels. I’m not really hungry, anyway. Well I am, but not for food. Maybe I should just drag him into the nearest empty room for a shag? No, I’m just not that brazen. We go to the shop, choose our sandwiches and drinks then take them over to the gardens. It’s busy, full of students and business people and workmen in overalls and mums and children stopping for a break from their shopping. We manage to find a spot on the grass opposite the water feature. It was something new they put in after the bomb, it’s all slick and white and minimalistic-looking but every now and then water shoots up from it into the sky, much to the delight of the children playing on it.
“Do you come here often?” Stuart asks.
“Oh come on, you can think of a better pick up line than that,” I tease and much to my delight his cheeks flush red in response.
“No, well yes…I mean - ”
“I come here most lunch times in the summer,” I take pity on him and his floundering. “It’s a nice place to relax and unwind in the middle of the madness of city life.”
“Do you like living in Manchester?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t live here in the city centre, I live a little out where it’s not quite so busy. But yeah, I like it here. I was born and bred in the area. How about you and Liverpool?”
I hadn’t detected any of the distinctive Scouse sound around his accent so I was curious as to what kept him there.
“Well, I
do love Liverpool. The people are really friendly and totally up for a laugh but it’s not where I was born. I’m just there for the job.”
“What’s the Liverpool office like, then?”
“Busy,” he replies, then frowns, “a bit lonely too. People avoid me ever since…” He pauses and I wonder whether he will continue, “well, you don’t need to know the boring details but I was going out with one of the girls there and now I’m not but the break up was a tad more complicated than that and everyone has taken her side of things.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I stroke his arm in an attempt to comfort him when inside I’m quite happy to have received confirmation he’s single.
“Yeah, well, these things happen. I’m looking to move office anyway.”
We munch on in silence and watch the kids hurtling through the water.
“I don’t know how they do it,” I laugh, “that water must be freezing.”
“Oh, it looks fun to me,” Stuart grins. “And I’m so hot in this damn suit.”
“Yes you are,” I reply without thinking and his smile expands to cover his whole face. I try to find some way of covering up my little slip. “So go on then, I dare you to stand on there with the kiddies.”
“I bet you I can do it and not get wet.”
“How much?”
“Winner gets a kiss.”
Now that sounds like a win-win situation to me.
“You’re on!” I settle back in the grass. He jumps up, pulls off his jacket and drops it to the floor beside me. It smells of him, spicy and fresh. I resist the urge to run the heavy material against my cheek. I carry on watching him and yes, he’s doing it. He’s standing in the middle of the fountain. It’s completely dry now but it’s obviously going to spurt soon. The little kids are laughing nervously, anticipating the cooling jets that will explode beneath them at any minute. I hold my breath. Will he get wet?
“Ha, see!” He taunts as the water shoots up a metre or so away from him, “told you.”
I’m just about to respond when a spout of water comes to my rescue and squirts up directly beside him, showering him in ice cold water.
“You were saying?” I clap my hands in delight.
He just laughs and wipes his wet hair from his eyes. His white shirt is clinging to his chest now and I can see the outline of his nipples and the dip of his bellybutton.
“Come on in, Lauren, the water is fine.”
“No, we need to go get you dry.” I look at my watch. “We’ve only got twenty minutes.”
“Okay, bring me my jacket.”
I stand and walk towards the fountain. He’s perched on the edge and holds out his hand. I pass him the jacket but he grabs hold of me and pulls me towards him. I follow him with a yell, leaping up the step and onto the wet marble top.
“What are you doing?” I squeal, “I’ll get soaked.”
“That’s what I am hoping for.” He spins me round right into the path of one of the jets. I scream as the water soaks through my skirt and my blouse and hits my heated cheeks. It’s icy cold and all my senses jump alive from the shock.
“You little…” Just in time I remember we’re surrounded by kids so I refrain from calling him a nasty name. He laughs, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.
“I like you wet,” he whispers, wiping a strand of clinging hair from my face. My gaze stays locked with his and I nervously lick my top lip. He follows the action with the movement of his eyes and then the space between our mouths is only millimetres and suddenly he’s kissing me. His flesh is soft, hot and giving in contrast to the coldness of my skin. Water rains around us, the kids’ whoops of delight and the hubbub of city life just fades away like someone has turned the volume down. All I am aware of is him. His wet chest pressed against my breasts, our sodden tops squelching between us. His hands in my hair, pulling and cupping at my brunette curls, bringing me deeper into the kiss and the touch of his tongue as it insinuates its way between our lips to spark off raw lust within me.
We are forced apart by a fierce shot of water directly between us to the delight and applause of the people watching. He laughs and pulls me away from the water and back into his embrace. His now wet suit jacket slaps around his back as I hug him.
“Now I think we should go find somewhere quiet to get dry, just me and you, yes?”
I nod in response, the cold water has taken my breath away and all my words too. We join hands and walk away from the cooling spouts and the kiddies weaving in and out of them. His wet jacket slapping against my thigh, my damp handbag hanging limply with it.
“Follow me,” I say to Stuart when we approach the main doors of my office building, “I know a back way in.”
“Hey,” I nod to Carl the caretaker as we walk in the open fire door behind him. Carl barely bats an eye, he just continues to suckle on his wrinkled up roll up and ignores us.
“Lunchtime means Carl’s fag break,” I grin, “I knew he’d have the fire door open. Now if we’re in luck…yes!”
I push on the door to the stock room and it opens. I pull Stuart in after me then slam the door shut behind us. I look to the side, pick up a brush and jam it beneath the door handle.
“Bloody hell, Lauren. Have you done this before?”
“Sometimes a girl needs a bit of space to finish reading a book or to enjoy a bit of self pleasure. It’s certainly more pleasant in here than in the ladies loos.” I drop my bag to the floor and look around.
“Point taken.” He nods.
“Now, let’s get these clothes off. If we hang them over the air conditioning vent they might dry a bit.”
“God knows, I love a forward woman.” Stuart fumbles open the buttons on his shirt.
I laugh and kick off my shoes then I undo the buttons on my blouse. I hope I’ve got on some fairly decent underwear under all this. I generally just pull out the first things in my drawer. My bra is cotton and practical but at least it is still white and not the well-worn grey of the majority of my collection.
Stuart’s moan seems to indicate he likes the way it clings to me in its current damp condition. He’s got his shirt off now and the breath catches in my throat. He’s hard and lithe and I want to run my hands over his lightly tanned skin. He passes me his shirt and I hang it with mine by the vent. I lay out his suit jacket and his trousers too then scoot out of my skirt.
It slips from my fingers and to the floor as Stuart grabs me and pulls me in for a ferocious kiss. I return it with passion, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to cling on I smooth my body to his and feel the significant bulge at crotch level. Fuck, he’s turned on like I am. My knickers, I don’t know if they’re decent or not, I forgot to check, are damp but I know it’s not from the water fight. Stuart has me so hot that I feel like my core is melting. My knees buckle under the pleasure onslaught as he insinuates a hand down between us and against the damp crotch of my underwear.
“These are soaking, better get ‘em off, Lauren.” He mumbles between dropping kisses in the dip of my neck.
“Okay,” I respond. He skims them off my hips to pool at my feet. I step out of the wet material then turn my attention to his boxers. “You better lose yours too before you break out of them.”
“Yes,” Stuart growls. I grip them and push down, “You make me so fucking horny, baby, my dick’s aching for you.”
“Oh, well then, I should give dick some attention then, eh?” I let his boxers drop and wrap my fingers around his erection. He groans and I shift my hand up and down, appreciating the heft of his manhood and wondering at just how hard he is. I need his cock inside me.
“One moment,” I whisper and he whimpers his disappointment when I pull back. I look around, locate my bag and hurry over to it. I bend down, aware he’ll be able to see my arse cheeks part as I do. His gasp indicates he likes what he sees. I unzip the bag, dip inside and pull out the box of condoms.
“Bought them with my ham sandwich,” I grin. “Now, I believe we’re ready to fuck.�
�
“Oh, yes we are,” He agrees and walks towards me. He takes the box from my hands and fumbles off the plastic wrapping. I drop to my knees and kiss across his stomach. I dip lower. He curses, trying to open the box to get to its contents. I run my tongue down his hard length and up again. He tastes musky and fresh. I lap at the pool of liquid at his very tip and the box clatters to the floor beside me, condoms spilling out.
I shoot a hand out sideways, scrambling a little as I lower my lips over his tip to take his meaty head into my warm mouth. A foil packet hits my fingertips. I wrap my hand around it then lift my hand up and offer it to him.
“Thanks,” Stuart rasps and I murmur a polite ‘You’re welcome’, eliciting a hiss and a thrust of his hips in response to the vibrations. I’m really enjoying the taste of him and I hope sometime in the future I will get to enjoy the taste of his cum as I suck him to completion but right now I want him to use that condom and fuck me. I pull back with a wet pop and he reaches down to cover his dick in preparation.
I wonder what to do next. Passion is coursing through my veins and I want to fuck but how, where? A store room is not the most comfortable of places.
“Here, lie on this. It’s still wet but it’s better than the floor.”
“Thank you,” I roll over onto the still sodden jacket, “I’m wet anyway.”
“I know,” He purrs and drops to his knees on the floor by my feet. I split them wide so he can crawl up between them. “Oh, I know and I can’t wait to sink balls deep inside you and feel just how wet you are.”
“Fuck yes,” I groan, his frank, dirty talk sending lightning bolts of lust directly to my aching clit. “Fill me, Stuart. I need your cock.”
He’s inside me before I finish my sentence. His girth stretches me, his length fills me and my pussy tightens in response to his violent entry. It’s so good. I wrap my thighs around him to hold him close as he thrusts. I reach forward and grip his biceps, bracing myself against him. My back jars against the cold floor beneath the wet material. I will ache later but I don’t care.
Smut in the City (Absolute Erotica) Page 12