by Fox Brison
Sarcasm. Ha ha. Not helpful. No she has two already. Look, Jessie, I know Devon likes Rachel. She likes her a lot.
Dumb and Dumber?
This woman is made for me. Yay, someone recognised one of my film quotes.
I love that film. So what are you suggesting? Jessie’s curiosity was working in my favour.
Nothing drastic, just a little set up involving a child free night of adult fun.☺
I dunno, Polly, are you sure Ms Up her own arse won’t slam the door in Rache’s face? She was clearly wavering now, I just had to go for the kill.
Trust me, Jessie, hopefully she’ll be slamming something into Rachel, but it won’t be the door in her face.
Crikey, Han, I didn’t know you had quite such a filthy side, I like it… so what’s the plan?
Chapter 24
Rachel
Friday 16th December, 2016
I couldn’t believe it when Devon WhatsApped and invited me to dinner. I was sure I had seen and heard the last of her. We needed to talk, she said, that I would thank her once I knew the truth.
Thank her? For twisting my heart and putting it through an old fashioned wringer draining my love for her into a bucket of depression?
I very much doubted it.
Naturally I was reluctant at first to accept her invite, but after an enormous amount of retrospection and soul searching (and surprisingly even more pushing and prodding from Jessie) I relented, out of curiosity if nothing else. I needed to know why I was given the cold shoulder treatment.
Besides, how could I say no when Jessie not only agreed to stay with Ruth all night, but she bought me an early Christmas present for the occasion.
And what a present.
A midnight blue dress with matching shrug and a pair of heels that screamed fuck me.
I was incredibly nervous and wasn’t sure I wanted Devon to take the heels’ advice after the way she’d treated me, but my biggest concern was that I hadn’t been with a woman for over five years. I know I joked on about forgetting what to do, but what if I had?
I’m not sure who was more excited to see me leave that night, my seven year old daughter or her nineteen year old twin! Or maybe it was Mrs Jessop, because she cornered me as I was leaving and handed me a bottle of red wine. “You go get your girl,” she wheezed, the cold snap playing havoc with her asthma.
“She’s not my girl,” I said, “not yet, anyway!” I looked at the wine she’d given me and almost dropped it. “Mrs J, no, this is too much!” The bottle cost more than a week’s grocery shopping.
“Not at all, I won it at bingo last night!” we both chuckled. The local parish vicar had organised an old folks bingo night and I’d arranged for a minibus to take some of the residents from the flats. Mrs Jessop had an amazing time and was seemingly very lucky.
Me too, looking at the bottle of wine again. “Thanks, Mrs J, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” I gave the blushing woman a peck on the cheek, trying not to smudge my lipstick or get a taste of the old lady powder she slapped on with a mortar most days.
I stepped off the tube at Tower Hill and walked around the Tower of London. It was dark, but coloured spotlights shining on the stone walls made the castle look aflame. I loved this building. The history, the drama, the ravens, the Beefeaters… I strolled the perimeter, imagining I was Anne Boleyn waiting for execution, or Moriarty planning to steal the Crown Jewels. The drama was so tangible you could easily believe it when some suggested more than one ghost haunted the halls and dungeons.
The ice rink that was introduced the previous Christmas was once again set up outside the walls for the winter. I watched the skaters cutting a swathe on the ice, circles and figures of eight decorating the top until it looked like a lace doily. There were cheers and laughs and the odd ooh and ahh as someone lost their balance, but was held up, giggling, by a supporting arm before setting off again. The ice white lighting of the rink made me feel colder than I should, but although I was perished (my nose rivalling Rudolph’s) it warmed me from the inside out.
The experts were soon overrun by the Bambis on skates, their legs spreading akimbo as bottoms polished the ice.
The Christmas spirit was clearly strong in this part of London as I heard the ever-present yuletide melodies playing through the loud speaker. As well as banning Christmas too early, maybe Parliament should ban the screams of Noddy Holder and ‘It’s Chrisssmaaas’…. I shook myself. I was in a happy place and should think happy thoughts. This was going to be the best Christmas ever and I was on my way to see the person who would help me make it so.
Walking quickly towards the river, I sniffed the air as the smell of mulled wine, hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts wafted through the crisp night, I hoped Devon had made something nice for dinner, although thinking of how much she protested about her cooking skills I revised that thought.
I hoped Devon ordered in something nice for dinner.
I arrived an hour early I was so nervous. To kill some time I wandered the embankment imagining what we might say to each other when we finally caught up. Tower Bridge stood out like a beacon above me, the traffic nose to nose. When I stood at a bus stop in a monsoon, I often swore my next stop would be the post office to grab the form for a provisional license. It was in these moments I was glad I didn’t submit to the pressure!
The River Thames was a midnight carpet, speckled with orange and red and green, meandering under the turreted bridge. An occasional honk or growl of a barge trudging through the somnolent waters were the only sounds I could distinguish in the low hum of background noise that accompanied the city.
I leant my arms on the railing of the footpath allowing my eyes to float over the scene before me, letting the big picture and small details occupy my mind. It was a trick I learnt years ago; it permitted my subconscious free rein. Foremost was the one where Devon and I spent the night revelling in our love.
I couldn’t wait any longer; I was going to be horrendously early, but I didn’t care.
St Katherine’s Dock caught me by surprise. I knew Devon was well off, hell it was obvious she was well off, but this? I stared at the colourful apartment blocks and indulgent high end yachts. I spotted a restaurant, a couple of cafés and several cute boutiques. I did a little window shopping, and chuckled. It would have been nice to go in, but it would have been a Pretty Woman moment, and not the good one where she tells the bitchy sales woman ‘big mistake. Huge.’
But I could feel my heart pounding again. What would a woman who lived in a place like this see in a girl like me? I nearly turned around.
Nearly.
But I wouldn’t allow myself to be as judgemental as Tommy’s bigoted family and appraise a person based on material wealth. No, her actions spoke far louder than the noughts in her bank account. I laughed at that. I had a couple of noughts after the three in mine, I bet she’d a couple or seven more. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the button and was immediately buzzed in.
Top floor, penthouse suite.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself.
Chapter 25
Devon
Friday 16th December, 2016
I missed Rachel terribly and it was affecting my health and my sanity, so much so Hannah and Jane were calling over on their way back from Norwich. She texted to say they’d just left the station, so when I heard the door, I immediately buzzed them in and uncorked the white wine.
The soft knock on my front door was unexpected. Hannah’s bang was usually loud enough to wake the dead.
Except it wasn’t Hannah and Jane.
“Rachel?” I stood looking at the vision in blue in front of me. Her dress was clearly new, as were her heels. O.M.G. Those heels, that dress. Would it be inappropriate for me to rip it off whilst she stood in the doorway?
“Hi… Devon? I know I’m early… it’s cold out…”
“Early?” I knew I sounded stupid but that’s how I felt. “Cold?”
“For dinner. I went for a walk along
the embankment, it was stunning. Maybe we could go ice skating one night, it looked fun. I brought red. Is that okay?”
“Dinner? Ice skating. Red? New dress?”
“You noticed?”
“Yes.” I also noticed my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t string more than four words together and then not even in a sentence.
“So can I come in?” By now Rachel was looking perturbed.
“Come in?”
“Yes, to your flat. For dinner.” She paled. “Wait. You didn’t invite me for dinner, did you? God I’m mortified. I’m going to kill her, I’m going to kill Jessie stone mmph.”
I shut her up with a kiss. I didn’t know how this had happened, although I could hazard a very good guess, but right now I didn’t care about anything but the feel of Rachel’s curves beneath my hands.
“Dinner?” she whispered when I finally stepped back. Her eyes were still closed and she rocked forward losing her balance a little. I took her hand and smiled when she opened them. “Dinner?” she asked again.
“Later,” I growled the answer, and closing the door I lifted her into my arms. I wasn’t letting her go, not now, not ever.
***
I think by now we were both on the same page, and I led Rachel towards my bedroom. She walked to the window. “This view is breath-taking.”
“Yes it is,” I said from behind her whilst slowly lowering the zip on her dress.
Reality was far better than anything I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.
“Devon,” she crossed her arms in front of her, “people might see.”
“No they won’t, it’s special glass. We can see out but they can’t see in. You, my darling, are for my eyes only.” I traced my fingers from the nape of her neck, over her shoulder blades and down to the small of her back, kissing along the same trail. Her dress fell to the floor in a heap, revealing her pert buttocks which I couldn’t help but squeeze.
She was stunning.
A primeval groan escaped Rachel’s lips and she spun to face me. Her body was perfect, soft, yet also hard. Running after a seven year old and working a full time job did a better job than any gym could. “Devon,” her voice was raw and full of yearning, “I need you.” It took every ounce of willpower I owned to control my urge to throw her onto the bed and fuck her hard and fast, right there, right then. But I wanted to savour this moment, to discover every inch of her and lock it tight in my heart.
I wanted to make love.
My tongue lazily licked around her hardening nipples as she writhed to my touch, the dance we were performing as ancient as the earth itself. Grabbing the back of my head she kissed and bit my ear and arousal arced through my body.
“Harder,” she gasped with unsuppressed desire.
Her commanded sent my passion soaring to the nth degree. What I felt was animalistic and I pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her, not once losing the intimate connection with her beautiful pale blue eyes which were now glowing.
With hunger.
I made my way down Rachel’s body, my lips barely grazing her skin, yet never once losing contact. I was breathless with anticipation and another emotion that would remain nameless, even though deep down inside I knew exactly what it was. I continued moving lower and gently prising her legs apart, I saw her glistening glory and experienced the sweet smell of her arousal.
She was so ready.
“Is this okay?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion.
“Anything you want is okay.” She said it so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
I think I was about to die through wanting and I could deny neither her nor myself any longer. I dipped to take my first taste and she almost leapt from the bed. The spark of electricity between us was so intense I thought I was going to explode. My hunger for Rachel was insatiable and when I felt her squirming become more urgent, I removed my tongue and slid first one, then two fingers inside her.
Thus I began the rhythmical dance so familiar, yet so foreign as I gradually learned what would bring Rachel closer to her heights. Each time she neared the crest, I paused, bringing her back down, until she was begging and pleading. I curled my fingers inside, seeking the sweet spot that would orchestrate the crescendo…
“Fuck… oh my god… fuck.” After the initial thunderous release she whimpered as she came down from on high, her orgasm pulsing and I felt each wave tighten around my fingers. I wanted to savour every second, to feel every little aftershock. “I can see again,” she finally smiled a smile I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I eased myself free and lay next to her, studying her body in the little light that eked from the street lights. She was an exquisite painting of shadows and an ethereal glow highlighted her slightly olive skin. “That was…” she whispered.
“Yes,” I agreed softly, “it really was.” She opened her eyes and looked at me. She touched my face, which I was embarrassed to say was a little sweaty and smiled.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you work so hard, or maybe it’s because you’re wearing far too many clothes?” She reached behind my back to unsnap my bra.
“You’ve done that before!” I chuckled.
“Not for a very, very long time.” Rachel leant forward and kissed me. “But I’m glad I waited for the right person.” She swiftly rolled me over onto my back, her fingers seeking, then instantly finding, just how aroused I was. “Devon, you really are quite stunning you know.” Her words were so unexpected but incredibly beautiful. I think she felt what they did to me as she began pumping her fingers faster. She was watching me, watching my face for the impending orgasm to make its way through my body.
She didn’t have long to wait, I was primed and ready to go.
“Yes… oh god…. Yes right there… ohhh… Rachel!” I screamed, which kind of shocked me, because I was normally more of a whisperer. Right now I didn’t care who heard me.
I had fallen for this woman and it was magical.
***
The next morning I jumped out of bed to make breakfast and she moaned a little protest before falling straight back asleep. I simply stared at her, her delightful blonde curls spread across the pillow, her face still flushed from the exertions of an hour before when we’d awoken and hungrily taken each other.
Again.
I could still feel her pulsing on my fingers, the rhythmical waves tightening around each digit as she screamed my name and climaxed.
Again.
I groaned softly; this walk down sexual memory lane was not getting breakfast, this was getting me wet.
Again.
I walked through to the kitchen humming All I Want For Christmas. Weird, I know, but I suddenly felt all warm and Christmassy. Minutes later a couple of arms grabbed me around the waist. I leant back into Rachel’s embrace. “I missed you,” she whispered.
“Not as much as I missed you,” I answered, just as softly. I think she understood my meaning, because she stood on her tippy toes and kissed my neck. “We have a lot to thank our friends for this Christmas.”
“We do.” Her hand reached around and stole a piece of the watermelon that I was preparing for our fruit salad breakfast. “I’m starving.” She hopped up onto the kitchen counter, grabbed a fork and speared another piece. I remember a few weeks ago thinking my home was like a hospital operating theatre. Having Rachel sitting on top of the chrome made it feel more alive. The shirt she’d borrowed from my floor hung loosely and barely covered her thighs and her eyes twinkled when she caught me staring at them.
“Who babysat for Ruth last night?” I asked
“Jessie. She wanted her to stay over and who was I to argue?” She stabbed a grape. “Although I’m going to be having words about her involvement in this little set up.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” I protested. “I texted Hannah and she told me Jessie was most vociferous in her displeasure with m… my behaviour, and was far from keen about getting involved.”
“Hard on her?” Rac
hel giggled. “I’m not going to bollick her, I’m gonna give her a big kiss.”
“Or, a nice shake of the hand would work just as well to show your appreciation.” I felt the green eyed monster in me stir. “Or a thank you card.” Her legs managed to grab me around the waist and she used them to pull me close. “You can’t beat a thank you card.” I reiterated before I started opening the buttons on her shirt.
My kitchen was now my second most favourite place in the world, especially when decorated with a naked Rachel.
Chapter 26
Rachel
Saturday 17th December, 2016
“Are you expecting anyone?”
The buzzer interrupted our second breakfast, this time in bed. Devon was no domestic goddess, but even she could manage toast and coffee. Coffee to die for I might add. I’d already decided that, if, god forbid, this did end, I was stealing that fancy machine of hers.
Making love all night raised an appetite to rival a hobbit’s. Who knew it? I certainly didn’t. Now I’m not what you would call experienced, in fact I’d only ever been with three women in my entire life, but as soon as Devon touched me I knew what we had was special. It was as if I’d won the lottery – the sex life lottery that is.
“No,” she looked worried when the buzzer went again.
“Aren’t you going to see who it is?” I chuckled.
“I guess so,” she grumbled and tied the belt around her robe. God she was gorgeous. I took the opportunity to check my phone. In between clouds nine and ten, I’d let Jessie know that I wouldn’t be home, and she’d replied with a knowing wink emoji. There was another message on her thread, but before I could open it Devon was back with a parcel and a blush.
“This is for you.” She passed over a large brown parcel.
“Me?” I gave it a gentle shake. Had Devon got me a present? No… no she looked as surprised I did. Wait, no, she looked a little nonplussed. I checked the name of the courier company and realised exactly who had made the early Saturday morning delivery. “Tori say something nice?” I asked.