by Bridy McAvoy
They weren’t that busy—I guess the lunch rush had gone—and the evening one would start in about an hour. As the smiling barista served me I noticed the manager watching her carefully. Obviously she was new. His gaze, though, seemed something more than that, somehow predatory—it made me a little uncomfortable. She didn’t make any mistakes though, and as I picked up my coffee and turned to go I caught sight of his name tag. Brad.
I almost dropped my coffee. Could it be? Could it really be him?
I found myself a seat near the window and tried to remember what Sam had told me about him. He’d be about Sam’s age, just four years younger than me. He seemed to fit that bracket, for sure—no wrinkles, but his hair was starting to recede. Thinking quickly, I got my phone out and started playing with it. There were no messages, no texts. Bruce had me on lockdown at work, so there’d be nothing forwarded there. I’d last seen him on Wednesday, and heard nothing since. Typical Bruce. He’d only ring you to tell you your house was on fire if he thought you were in it!
I wasn’t looking for my messages though. I flicked the camera app on and posed as if I was taking a selfie. I looked at the screen and grimaced, then posed again. In fact, I wasn’t even in the shot, but Brad and the young barista were. It took me three attempts to get the picture I wanted. I guess a couple of people thought I was a bit weird, but I didn’t care. They didn’t know me, nor why I was doing what I was.
I dawdled over my coffee for a while, then finished it and headed for the door. By then the manager, Brad, had disappeared into the back somewhere so I just left.
Two minutes later I rounded the corner where I was supposed to meet Sam, not expecting her to be ready, but she was there.
“Hiya.”
“Hi, honey.” She leaned up to give me a kiss.
“Did you get what you wanted?”
She laughed wickedly. “Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to show you.”
“If it’s that good I hope you bought two sets.”
“Why?”
“So it won’t matter when I rip the first one off you.”
She shuddered then blushed as she realized I’d spoken out loud and the woman behind me spluttered. I turned my head and she glanced past me and winked at Sam before turning away. When I turned back Sam’s blush was even deeper than it had been.
“That was a cruel thing to do.”
“Nah—that was fun!”
We walked back to the car hand in hand, both of us laughing and giggling all the way. When we reached the car I stopped Sam from starting the engine.
“I have something to show you.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t take too long in the shop, so I dropped in for a coffee.”
“Okay.”
“Recognize this guy?”
I showed her the picture. It wasn’t very well lit, but the Samsung camera was a very good quality one. She peered at it for a while, but shook her head.
“His name tag proclaimed him to be the manager, and his name is Brad.”
“Oh!” She grabbed the phone from me and took a closer look, even magnifying the guy’s face. “It could be…but I couldn’t be certain.”
I chuckled. “Well, let me take you back there and you can look for yourself.”
“You bloody well won’t!”
I just laughed. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later we were back at the condo.
“What are we doing for dinner?”
“Pizza?”
“Sure. Hawaiian?”
“Perfect. Just hang fire fifteen minutes, honey. I’d like a shower first.”
“No prob.”
“Just don’t go peeking in those bags. That’s for later.” Her laugh was wicked.
“I promise, cross my heart and scout’s honor.”
“And when were you a boy scout?”
“For about two weeks when I was about eight.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Get that ass of yours in the shower.”
Once she’d ensconced herself in the bathroom and I could hear the water running, I had the opportunity to stash the two watches in the room. Then I got the coffee brewing, and checked the fridge for beer—we still had plenty.
When she came out of the bathroom, naked except for the towel wrapped around her hair, she called out. “Order the pizza now, honey. I’ll be ready when it gets here.”
“One condition.”
“Which is?”
“You close the drapes and stay in the bedroom when he delivers it, or you put some bloody clothes on.”
She laughed and closed the bedroom door. I gave it a minute then ordered the pizza, quietly opening the ranch door and checking the bedroom window from the other side. She’d been a good girl, she’d closed the drapes.
When I stepped back inside she was leaning against the door frame of the open bedroom door. “Checking up on me?”
“Nope, just don’t want to be forced to give CPR to the delivery boy. Pizza will be twenty minutes.”
She stuck her tongue out at me then disappeared back into the bedroom.
Once we’d eaten the pizza she turned to me. “Honey, which do you want first? Do you want me to get changed so you can unwrap me? Or do you want me to continue where I left off?”
I smiled at her. “How long will it take you to get to the point where we got engaged?”
“Not long. I was quite a good girl through that period.”
“Then let’s do that tonight. We can finish off tomorrow.”
She nodded but I could see from the way she caught her bottom lip in her teeth that there was probably more to the story from the point of our engagement onward than I probably would like to hear. We had a period of about ten months to cover first, though.
* * * *
I meant it, honey. I was quite a good girl throughout that period. That Saturday evening with you was great. I did have some pangs about letting Max and his family down, but I’d have been fighting one or all of them off all night. You, on the other hand, were the perfect gentleman.
As you walked me back to the car you kissed me gently. I almost melted into a puddle in my panties. It was so nice, yet there was no pressure, no need for me to perform. Part of me wanted to drop to my knees and suck your cock in the street. Part of me wanted you to keep me on that pedestal forever. That conflict came to dominate my thinking for weeks and months.
I had a visit from my ALA assessor that Monday, and that didn’t go well. I was a lot further behind in my studies than I thought I was. Somehow I’d completely missed a module and was in danger of flunking out. The assessor was nice enough, but stern. She showed me a timetable for me to recover and it was tight.
I guess I’d let my free and easy sex life dominate for too long. I loved my job, and I needed to work for my own piece of mind, even if I found my Mr. Right—and I was starting to wonder if he’d already found me.
With you working in the evenings during the week, I had plenty of time to restart my studies, and I threw myself into them. Mr. Bryant had sat in on one of the meetings on the Monday, so he knew how far behind I was. I thought he’d be disappointed in me, but he was supportive rather than scathing. He assured the assessor he’d make sure I kept on track, and when she’d left he sat down with me for two hours after we closed and went through everything I needed to do. He didn’t once touch me.
Tuesday he didn’t touch me either, nor on the Wednesday. I wondered what would happen on Thursday but, after his kinky episode the previous week, it went back to vanilla. Confined to his office, too.
I was hardly in a position to object. For the next eight to ten weeks, I settled into a pattern. I spent Sunday doing laundry and getting the house clean, and baking and cooking food for during the week. It’s amazing how many individual meals you can prepare and freeze for the week ahead. Monday through Wednesday I spent the day at work and the evenings studying. Thursday I worked a half day, got sexed up by my boss, and then studied in t
he evening. Friday was a repeat of earlier in the week. Saturday was the highlight of my week. I nipped out to do the grocery shopping in the morning, then had a long soak in the tub before getting ready for our date. By the end of the second month, we weren’t going out in the evening, it had become a mid-afternoon meeting, followed by a walk or something, then a meal and a movie.
“You know something? Now I think about it, you never took me dancing during those three months. Why not?”
I shrugged. “Too scared I guess.”
“Silly, you’d been forgiven, and I’d decided how to react better.”
This time I laughed. “So I could have…”
“Well, I didn’t say I would have let you get past second base…”
She winked and then returned to her narrative.
Over the weeks that followed, Mr. Bryant became my confidante as well as my lover. He could see I was falling for you, and I needed advice about how to go from being the ice maiden to being the passionate woman I wanted to be every time I was in your arms. Slowly, I let you get a bit further—not every week, but progress. I remember the first time you realized I always wore stockings, not pantyhose. Your face was a picture. When you cupped my breast through my top, I almost moaned into your mouth I was so hot. I wanted you—no, I needed you.
Then of course, we hit another of those roadblocks. I’d caught up, even got ahead on my studies, and my next assessment meeting was all sweetness and light. They were happy, Mr. Bryant was happy, I was happy. I couldn’t wait to tell you, but you didn’t answer my call straight away. You couldn’t, of course, you were in class. When you did call me back, you were about to sign on to your shift at the shop and couldn’t talk. Your reaction to my good news seemed downbeat and that irritated me.
I didn’t realize it because you were hiding it from me, but you were in the hardest part of your dissertation, The Q & A and Professorial review. I knew you’d passed the peer review, but you hadn’t said this was coming up, and I had no idea how tough it was, or how tough it was on you. Remember, I had no experience of what college was like. My ALA studying was all home-based, assessments on a distance basis—I never faced anything close to what you were going through. Ignorance is no excuse, I know, but that’s what it was.
I wanted to go out and celebrate on the Saturday and you cried off because you were too tired. The previous two weeks my Thursdays had been rather frustrating. Mr. Bryant had hardly touched me, let alone given me an orgasm. Meanwhile, our dates had been getting sexually frustrating for me. I wanted you so badly, I’d actually made up my mind to give it up for you that Saturday—give you my assumed virginity—and you stood me up!
I guess I went a bit off the rails. I went shopping that Saturday, bought myself some very sexy clothes. I mean it, they were slutty. A denim dress with three buttons up the front—it showed cleavage to below the level of my breasts, and the lowest button was only just below my pussy, so every movement flashed leg well above the stocking tops. A new underwear set in royal blue went underneath. I knew the bra would show through the gaping front of the dress but I didn’t care. I was going out for one reason, and one reason only, and the sluttier I dressed the more chance there was of that happening.
I got changed at the condo, the first time I’d been in the place for a couple of months. Actually, it felt musty. That was when I decided to use a cleaning service. I left the car there and took a taxi into town. If I was going to dress sluttily, and dance sexily, I wanted to be able to drink. That meant I wouldn’t drive.
It was hard sitting in the back of the taxi—I hadn’t ridden as a passenger more than a handful of times since the accident. I was mad enough to do it but not so blind so as not to see the taxi driver admiring my body via the mirror. He was fat, old, and ugly, otherwise I might have asked what time he got off.
I knew which bars to go to, and which to stay clear of. This one was a pick-up joint. When I walked in, eyeballs clicked as I crossed the floor to the bar and asked for a beer. The barman actually I.D.’d me to make sure I was over eighteen. I guess I was dressed a little preppy—slutty but preppy.
Two minutes later I had a guy asking me to dance. He wasn’t my type, and besides I could see the paler circle on his finger where he’d slipped a wedding ring off. I down-checked him and finished my beer.
“Let me get you a refill.”
The deep voice from behind me seemed more promising so I turned my head to look. I’d been right—far more promising. Not exactly your cowboy type, but not a student-type either. He kept in shape and was maybe ten years older than me.
“Bud, please.”
“Coming right up.”
The two beers materialized and he clinked bottles with me.
“I could ask you if you come here often, but you don’t.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because, honey, this is my bar.”
“Your bar?”
“Yep, it says Skinner’s on the sign because I’m Jim Skinner.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Skinner.”
“You call me that and I’ll bar you.”
“Very well, Jim. I’m Sammie.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sammie.”
We chatted for a few minutes and I could see a lot of disappointed looks and glares at him from various men around the room. I guess my dress had made me the prime piece of ass in the place—the best bet in the bar. That thought made me shiver.
“Listen. I’ve got a couple of friends sitting over here, why don’t you come and join us.”
“Sure.”
Actually I wanted to get him off by himself and do unspeakable things with him—I’d made up my mind by then.
He held up four fingers to the barman and as soon as he got a nod back he grabbed my hand and steered me between the tables to a booth at the back. There he introduced me to Gary and Chad, his friends. I thought he’d get me to slide into the booth ahead of him, so he could trap me in there with him on one side and Chad on the other, but he didn’t. I guess he noticed that idea made me hesitate, because he slid in first and patted the seat beside him.
I sat down as he made introductions, and a minute later the barman arrived with four beers, one each. I was on my third now, and I hadn’t had a lot to eat before coming out. I noticed the way the barman looked down my cleavage as he put the beers on the table. Jim noticed too, but didn’t say anything. The other two men were staring at my chest as well. Jim, though, had his eyes elsewhere. When I’d sat down, my skirt had ridden up and the split at the front had opened—I was showing a lot of leg—and he was enjoying the view. As I glanced around I could see there were a number of men at nearby tables also enjoying the view. I got hot very quickly, and I don’t mean I was blushing. I was loving the attention.
For the next hour we chatted and joked and kidded around. The three guys were very good company and kept me entertained. Jim had his arm around me after about ten minutes and, after another fifteen, I was sitting much closer to him. His arm was behind me, but his hand was dangling around in front and, as I slipped closer to him, his hand moved from my arm onto my breast.
“Naughty boy!”
He laughed but didn’t move his hand, and I didn’t push it away. By then I was on my sixth beer and starting to feel the effects. In more ways than one, my bladder was under pressure. I pleaded with him to let me go—I needed to use the ladies room and, as I slipped out of the booth and moved toward the corridor beside the bar, I heard him say something about taking the party upstairs. I assumed he was talking to me, but I guess he was talking to his friends.
I don’t know what was said while I used the facilities and freshened up my lipstick. I’d worn most of that off on the beer bottles.
“Honey, are you sure you want to hear about this? I was acting like a spoilt brat rather than supporting you in what you were doing. I was drunk, and I let things happen I never would have sober.”
I sighed. I’d worked out where this was going, but she
had to tell me. “Yes, Sam, I’m sure.”
“I’ll need you to hold me when I’m done.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
When I stepped out of the ladies room, Jim was there. He didn’t say a word, just pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It was a hot, passionate kiss, his tongue seeking mine. I kissed him back. I’d already decided he was the one, so why wouldn’t I? His hands moved down my back, cupping my butt cheeks, pulling me in to him. I could feel he was getting hard, feel the way his cock grew and lengthened against my belly. I moaned into his mouth as he pulled me tighter. He pushed me back, pinning me between the wall and his body. His hands found mine, pulling them above my head as he continued to kiss me. With my hands above my head he pulled them together, then transferred his grip so he could hold them with one hand, freeing up his right one. That dipped down between us.
He pulled back a little, staring into my eyes as I panted for breath. His eyes were dark, deep pools of lust and I could feel myself melting into them. With a start, I realized what he was doing as he held me there against the wall. With three quick flicks of his fingers the three buttons holding my dress closed were undone. The denim slithered to the sides, exposing my underwear and the rest of my body. I shivered as the cool air-conditioned air hit my skin. I was on fire but scared of being seen.
“Not here.”
“Of course not. Your wish is my command.”
He pulled me away from the wall, allowing me to drop my hands. I used one hand to clasp the dress together as he grabbed the other and pulled me along the corridor to the office at the end. I guess I expected it to be an office—I was used to being sexed up in an office, after all, but instead it was a flight of stairs leading up.
He guided me through the door and flicked a light switch, lighting up the stairs.
“My personal stairway to heaven, Sammie, just for you.”
He pulled and pushed me until I was in front of him. Don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t being rough, just making sure I did what he wanted me to. Masterful rather than forceful. I was hot to trot too, so I wasn’t objecting. I had to let go of my dress to grasp the banisters, allowing me to pull myself up the stairs. As a result my dress flapped open. By the time I’d climbed up three steps he was right behind me. Another two and he had his hands on my shoulders pulling my dress back. Another step and I had to pause as he pulled the dress all the way down onto my arms.