Lucky With My Loves

Lying in bed, half-sleepy, waiting for the alarm to go off, dreamily thinking about women.

The sense of Laura still working its warm magic, our secret exchanged glances, her smile, her skin’s need for a man’s touch. Strange how the decision not to pursue her feels like liberation. Now and forever, we’ll be perfect lovers, unspoiled by physical contact or disappointment or actuality or life’s grinding down.

Just like the student at the supermarket, my day lights up every time I see her. Sometimes our eyes meet, there’s a mysterious connection, fleeting but unmistakeable, like a small electric shock. Other times, we pass each other unacknowledged, afraid of overexposure, exchange glances too often and it’ll become formulaic, tiresome.

The light outside beginning to seep through the curtains, not much longer now and the alarm will go off. But still a bit longer to doze and dream.

Laura and the student, both of them like a fragrance, transforming the world, difficult to capture, easy to tire of. Best to be taken by surprise, enjoy the ravishment whilst it’s there, accept its fading away, hope that perchance it returns one day.

Lying back, feeling happy. Lucky to have two such women, even if only in my mind.

Then there’s Jane. The polar opposite. Laura and the student, they float into my life, wonderful while they’re there, fundamentally unnoticeable when they’re not. Jane, she’s wired into my basic make-up, it’s impossible to imagine how life would have been if I’d never met her.

Strange how her sexual escapades don’t make any real difference. Just like when I heard she’d got married, I still felt close to her. My own exclusive closeness, unaffected by her having taken a husband. Or now, sexual clients. If anything, her adventurousness makes me yearn for her more.

Or Jenny, for whom I’m a sexual client amongst many. I wonder if she too has a special man, one she’s known since childhood, someone she emails with stories of what she’s done.

The alarm clock starting its ring. Reaching over, turning it off. Rising. Thinking, that list could go on and on, I’ve been lucky with my loves.

Moaning In Pleasure

Something to brighten up my day, an email from Jane.

Hi darling R, how’re things? they’re pretty sweet here with me, for the first time in about ten years i don’t have to worry about money, my little sexual adventures seem to be a nice little earner, all cash, taxman doesn’t get a dime.

One of my friends has a job as an office administrator, the other day she told me what she takes home every month, it was less than i do. and i don’t have to do the office hour thing. or get bossed about by some self-important manager.

Anyway i promised to tell you about that naughty thing i did, so here goes. there’s this guy that’s taken a bit of a fancy to me, first i knew about it was when the other girls started teasing me about it. well he led me to our special room for private sessions, not that they’re private because there are peepholes for anyone to watch, the idea is just that you can only go in if the people inside invite you, you can’t just join in like everywhere else.

So we get there and basically he wants me to kneel on the bed with my butt in the air and my shoulders down and my hands pulling my cheeks apart, so he can kneel behind me and lick me out. that was fine, it’s quite relaxing to be worked on by a man’s tongue, in fact, before i started this job i remember fantasizing about it quite a lot.

Then i felt his tongue just starting to explore my asshole, and you know what R, it took me right back to student days when you used to do that, i remember being a bit surprised at first but liking it more and more. but i had forgotten about it somehow, and this guy awakened my desire for it.

Anyway, the next thing i know, his tongue is deep inside my ass and he must have been playing with himself because he suddenly stiffens and ejaculates all over the bed and rolls over, his body all limp and a happy smile all over his face.

He told me later that the thing that made him cum was that apparently i’d been moaning in pleasure, it was the first time he’s done that with a woman who actually seemed to be turned on by it. other women either won’t let him do it, like his wife, or will do it but only on sufferance.

So there we are, R, my naughty thing, it reminded me of you. love Jxxx,

That Steamy Sex We Never Had

Driving back from the pub, mind filled with Laura. My wife chattering away pleasantly. Hey that was fun, those were good people, for some reason we only seem to get together about once a year, probably less, I don’t think you could make it last Christmas, probably won’t see them again now for ages.

This sad fact slowly percolating into my thoughts. Difficult to know what to do about Laura. Get her phone number from my wife somehow? How? Could invent a pretext, I suppose. Ring her up, arrange to meet for a coffee?

Rain coming down outside. My wife turning on the wipers. Traffic headlights twinkling. Light leeching from the sky. Nondescript music on the car radio. A dull damp day’s end, memory of Laura the only glow.

So we meet up for coffee. What then? Proposition her? Hard not to, our bodies seemed to be reaching out to one another. But maybe that’s just my imagination, what happens if I’ve read it wrong? Well, so what?, that’s just part of the great seduction game.

Except that this wouldn’t just be a normal rejection, where you just feel a bit embarrassed, then get on with your life, forget about it all. This would filter out into my wife’s circle of friends, Laura would whisper the story to one of them, the secret would be out, before long everybody would know, R made a pass at Laura.

Just like the news of Laura’s sexless marriage, no doubt a secret once, now common knowledge.

In the car, my wife concentrating on the road, both hands on the steering wheel. Her face with its characteristic expression of focus and care and awareness. Also somehow a sense of innocence.

Not someone lightly to betray. Or, if betrayal there must be, as with my escort adventures, let it be contained, not certain of discovery. And let it be remote, not amongst friends.

Oh well, Laura, I’m going to have to let you go. Fare thee well, gorgeous lover that never was. That steamy sex we never had, my fingertips imagined on your intimate body, it was wonderful.

Febrile Fantasies

Driving to Hampstead Heath, thinking about Laura. Since meeting at the party, hardly able to do anything but. Waking up before dawn, seeing her image in the dark, her face, her eyes, her smile. The sense of a connection. The feel of her hand on my cheek as she kissed me goodbye.

Suffusing her image, knowledge of her marital state, a cold husband, sexlessness. Mirror of my own situation. Her heart and mine, beating in lonely unison. Her skin in need of the touch of a caring man. Her neck’s nape waiting for lips’ caresses. My fingers on her shoulders massaging out their tension. Kisses on her spine.

And now here I am driving with my wife to see her on a grey winter morning, thinking, I must still be an adolescent, thinking like that, febrile fantasies set off by a chance encounter. Time for a cool head.

Meeting up with everyone, saying hello, hugs and pecked cheeks all round. No Laura. The day’s excitement deflating. Setting off on the walk, London’s skyline on the grey horizon. Some kites sailing off with the brisk wind, tugging their strings. My friends making amiable conversation. My responses sounding wooden to me, but nobody apparently noticing.

Somebody saying, hey, hurry up, we’re supposed to be meeting the others, we’re running late. My heart lifting. Which others? Unable to ask, don’t want to show too much interest.

Walking into a pub, bumping into a crowd of people coming the other way. Jostling around. Looking sideways by chance. There, three feet away, Laura. Looking at me. Our eyes meeting. An unexpected coincidence.

Smiling at her. Her face smiling back. Somehow, within the smiles, a sense of additional information, a mutual recognition, something beyond words. Her hair darker and shorter than in my memory, just as beautiful. Her figure slightly rounder, I had remembered her as very slender, she’s not. Either way, radiant.

The group of friends chatting. Difficult to know how much to look at Laura. Deciding not to, or not much. But eventually unable to resist. Sneaking a peek. Her eyes looking straight at me, darting away, looking back, a flashed embarrassed smile. My heart melting.