The following is a complete work of fiction.
Any comments/queries you may have, please feel free to email me at shstbs@gmail.com
Alison
The first pint is always the best. You know that feeling, when the barmaid puts the glass to the nozzle and the pump seems to take forever. Yes, it may take one hundred and nineteen seconds to pour the perfect pint but there's no need for her to be so methodical in her work when I have had such a horrendous day at mine. But finally, the swirling black elixir floats over the counter and into my hand, as I sink into creamy happiness the way a nomad sinks into an oasis.
"Why can't you drink lager like most people?" my friend Kate complains, embarrassed by my `butch-looking' Guinness.
"Because it makes me burp," I answer her frankly. She rolls her eyes at my uncouth demeanour and straightens her skirt for the thousandth time.
"Do I look OK?"
"You look beautiful."
"You didn't even look at me!" Kate's bottom lip is quivering and she looks like she'll start bawling any minute. I fix her with a more thorough stare and make a point of looking her up and down.
"You really do look fine," I insist. "But he already knows what you look like when you're at your worst, so why make all the effort?"
"Because it's a DATE." Kate's level of calmness has dipped drastically and I fear that she is at breaking point. I decide not to test her any more and instead ask her about her plans for the evening. She tells me about Mike's need to avoid anyone he works with. Kate says it's "some stupid rule about staff and patient boundaries." I try so hard not to raise an eyebrow at this point. The Left Eyebrow of Withering Contempt has troubled many people and rocked many friendships. Although in my defense, on such a subject as Kate's hot new man I feel I am allowed to be somewhat dubious. Mike is right to want to avoid people he works with. He met Kate as she was wheeled into the A+E department, screaming blue murder due to a horrendous kidney infection. It was whilst he was catheterising her that he remarked on her lovely long legs. Kate, as high as a kite on gas and air, promptly asked him for a date and he accepted and took her number, which she somehow managed to relay perfectly.
The eyebrow is not necessary as Kate notices my scepticism.
"He was thoroughly professional the whole time."
"Of course he was," I reply dryly. "Only, he's touched your lady garden without having ever even kissed you." Kate looks ready to kill me and I am saved by her sudden beaming smile directed over my shoulder and I realise Mike is here. She stands up and gives him an awkward wave and he comes over. The first thing I can't help but notice is how short he is, at least in comparison to Kate, who stands at five feet nine in just her stocking feet. Tonight, she is wearing green patent shoes with six inches of heel slapped to them. Mike is about five feet four and obviously not in heels. It doesn't seem to faze either of them, however, and they can't keep their eyes off each other.
"You two lovebirds have a fabulous evening," I say, shaking Mike's coolly perspiring palm and settling back into the comfortable leather chair with my pint. Kate barely says goodbye as she trots off her with her highly inappropriate nurse. It's blissful to have this time to myself after the day of work I've had. Three restraints in one day will take their toll on anyone but I am particularly sore after having been thrown across the bed by a highly paranoid patient. I thoroughly deserve this Guinness and am about to pull out my book when I look out of the window and notice how it's a really beautiful evening. I decide to go and sit in the beer garden. I sneak out my pint in its contraband glass by carefully placing it into the deep hip pocket of my uniform. If there's one thing I hate, it's watching my settled, unassuming pint unceremoniously dumped into a plastic beaker in order to go and sit outside. Now in my late twenties, I feel I have mastered the skill of holding onto a glass without breaking it. I walk out slowly, doing my best John Wayne impression, and sit at an empty bench.
The evening is quiet and still and the beer garden looks over a pretty canal with barges moored on its sides. The May sunshine is still going strong at six o'clock and I pull out my book and begin to read. My drink begins to drain away all too quickly and I muse over the chances of being able to sneak out another glass. As I am sat debating with myself a shadow falls over my book. I look up, squinting against the glare of the sun that surrounds a figure like a halo. The silhouette appears to be that of a woman with short blonde hair.
"You know you're not allowed out here with a glass, don't you?" A strong Northern Irish accent instructing me firmly is not something even I am careless enough to be flippant about. I decide feigning ignorance is going to be my best bet until her next comment takes me by surprise.
"How about I get you a plastic glass, with a fresh pint in it?"
"Eh?" My ignorant reply is mortifying but this woman has floored me.
"There aren't many girls around who drink Guinness."
"No... there aren't," I concur, wondering of someone with a hidden camera is conducting research into the reactions of authoritative Irish women. Never one to refuse a free drink, however, when she repeats the offer I accept.
"Thank you," I reply. "Is it on the house because of my blatant flouting of the establishment's rules?" The woman looks confused and then realisation dawns in her eyes.
"Oh, I don't work here," she says. She notes my confusion and adds: "I see a woman sitting alone with a pint of the black stuff and I feel compelled to support the cause."
"Ha." I am amazed at her forthrightness and her blatant flirting. What amazes me is that we're in a very straight bar in a very straight part of the city. I'm also a little perturbed at her knowledge of my fondness for women without her even having said a word to me before now. Is it the drink I chose? The book I'm reading is innocuous enough. I'm wearing my nursing uniform, admittedly with comfortable, flat shoes but I can't think of anything incriminating. I'm too bewildered to do anything but sit dumbly until the woman returns with two fresh pints, unfortunately in plastic glasses. She sets one of them down in front of me and stands in front of me hesitantly until I laugh.
"You're allowed to sit down, you know," I offer. "I don't bite people who buy me things." She appears less challenging now and there is a hint of a blush on her cheeks and a rather red neck. "Fabulous opening gambit," I add.
"Why, thank you," she replies with enthusiasm. "I've never even done that before, offer to buy a stranger a drink. I just saw you walk out with your pint in your pocket and I loved it. So I thought I'd take the plunge."
"Ah, I failed in my discretion." I shake my head in mock self-loathing. "The thing is, how did you know I'd say yes?"
"I didn't," she admits. "But I turn thirty in less than a week and I'm sick of waiting for life to come to me."
"Good on you," I say, genuinely in awe of her guts. "I'm glad you came over. And not just for the drink," I add. She nods, smiling. And nods some more, before looking around, as though desperately searching for something to say. Damn it. She's cute.
"Introductions?" I offer. Her eyes light up and when her lips open in a wide smile I notice how stunning she is, and how straight her teeth are, with the added quirk of a twisted incisor. It gives her a cheeky look and she offers her hand.
"Alison." It's a statement and I welcome both it and her petite, soft hand in mine.
"Sarah," I reply. "And thank you again for the beer." Admittedly the plastic glass sullies the taste but it's almost worth it, to be sat in the sunshine with her company.
We talk easily for well over an hour, and after I while I take stock of the scene playing out in front of me. I've had a god-awful day at work but now, sat in front of me is the cutest woman I've seen in a long time, melting me a little bit more with every word she says. She has a sharp, sarcastic side that gives the Left Eyebrow of Withering Contempt a run for its money. She talks with a soft, Irish burr she says originates in Derry. I have tried to be nonchalant and cool but she is making it harder for me. There's far too much I want to know about this woman than is appropriate for an hour-long acquaintance but strangely, I feel she could ask me anything about myself and I'd tell her.
Suddenly I realise I have not heard from Kate in a long while and make a mental note to text her next time I go to the loo to check everything is going well on her date. I realise that tonight, this is the closest I myself have been to a date in about six months. I swore off women for good at Christmas, after Lindsey cheated on me for the tenth and last time.
"Sarah?" Alison's voice snaps me back.
"Shit, I am so sorry," I apologise. "I've had the worst day, and then you are so lovely and you knock me for six by buying me a drink, and –"
"Sorry if I overstepped a line..." Alison looks genuinely crestfallen and I feel terrible for having zoned out on her.
"No, really, you haven't." I explain about the stress of the hospital, and the three restraints I battled my way through. She listens to everything I've said with genuine interest, the way she has for the past hour. I decide to take a leaf from her book and grab the bull by his proverbial gonads.
"I am in desperate need of a shower and am craving a pizza," I announce. With only a slight hesitation I add, "I can make it a large pizza if you'll forgive my ignorance just then and join me."
"Where?" She looks shocked.
"My... flat." I falter, feeling I may have been a little too forward. What I want to say to her is that this isn't a seedy, cheesy line I am feeding her to lure her back to my place. If anything, I just want to stay in her company. Her voice alone I could enjoy all evening. To say nothing of her mouth. I go red at the thought of feeling the twisted tooth bite my lip.
"OK..." she says quietly.
"Look," I say, looking her straight in the eyes. "I don't do this every week or anything, invite people back to my flat. But I understand if you don't want to. I'll tell you exactly where I live, and you can ring a friend and tell them where you'll be. It's within walking distance from here."
"It feels a wee bit strange," Alison says and I nod. "But I am having the best night I have had in ages," she adds.
"Me too." Admitting that to her is a huge relief. I was worried I would sound like a real idiot by telling her that. We finish our drinks and stand up. Maybe it's a combination of the beer and the evening sun, or maybe it's simply that I cannot wait any longer, but I pull her towards me by her waist and she doesn't object when I lean in and kiss her.
I can tell she's taken by surprise but she doesn't pull away. Instead she slowly brings her arm around my neck and I feel her twisted incisor with my tongue. She smells divine and tastes even better. Her lips are soft and she kisses like nobody I have kissed before. Her lips move with a pulsating sensuality and I was right: feeling the twisted tooth graze me infuses me with an urgent sense of having to possess this woman and have her possess me.
I am aware of our surroundings and three labourers in dusty overalls and steel toe capped boots start cheering appreciatively. Not wishing for one iota to be a fantasy for boys I grasp Alison and we quickly exit the beer garden and head onto the main road. Alison's hand stays firmly in mine as I abandon the idea of a pizza and a stroll home by getting into one of two black cabs parked in the taxi rank. The driver sullenly swings the car around and heads to my flat, barely a mile down the road. He pulls up and I pay him and grab Alison's hand once more. I let us both into the main building and into the lift. We exit on the fifth floor and I unlock my front door.
As we walk through the living area to the kitchen I consider what to do next. I tell Alison she should ring someone and let them know where she is. She sends a quick text as I rifle through my post and when she is finished she puts her phone in her pocket and lifts her head to look straight at me.
"I feel I should offer you a drink..." I begin, but my sentence is cut short as she walks the short distance between us, slides her arms around my neck and pulls me in for an even more intense, delicious kiss. Thus begins a passionate devouring of one another, as her tongue swirls with mine, her hands on my face, my hands on her hips. My fingers snake around her back and dance on her spine until she pulls them from her and holds me by my wrists.
"Take me to your bedroom," she instructs me in her commanding Irish accent. She makes me smile and then asks me what is so funny.
"It's the Amanda Burton-esque way in which you tell me what to do," I laugh. "You know that bit in Silent Witness, when she says-"
"-Don't touch that body!" she finishes for me. Her mock serious face cracks me up and breaks into its own grin. And I have to kiss her again, as I mutter in between kisses that she has to turn around, follow the corridor and make a left into the bedroom. She pulls me behind her, as though this is her house, and I am her guest, enticed into her lair. When we enter the bedroom she pushes me against the wall and kisses my neck softly, the action in itself a complete juxtaposition, yet intensely erotic. I can hear her breathing quickly as her lips wander up and down my neck and I conclude she is both nervous and excited; the idea that she is turned on sends a chill through my body. I lift my hands to her hips once more but she pushes them away softly, exploring my mouth again with her tongue. We kiss and kiss and by now she lets me touch her and I steer us both to the bed, never once relenting on the kisses. I lie down and she straddles me and brings her head lower to meet mine. Feeling her thighs wrapped around my waist is intensely powerful and makes me begin to move my hips upwards to meet her crotch. She moves with me, as though we are inside each other already, and she moans softly in time to the thrusts. She then shifts to the left and lets one of her legs drop between mine and rubs herself on my thigh, as we frottage together, still kissing. My ache for her is becoming unbearable and I cry out in frustration. She smiles and I plead with her with my eyes, silently begging her to relieve me from this rising craving.
"I'm going to fuck you," she whispers in my ear, tickling me with her voice and making me groan even more. Her breath is hot and she tastes of alcohol, a flavour that always drives me wild.
"Please," I croak. "Please just have me. I don't recognise what I'm saying. This isn't me. I do not get women buying me drinks. I don't bring them back to mine and I certainly don't let them top me like this. I'm bewildered by the strange, unfamiliar feeling of wanting to be dominated. But this woman demands, in some way, that I pay attention, that I submit to her. And by God, I want to. I stop her for a second and push her away gently, making her pause in her movement. I make her watch me unbutton my shirt. She watches as my fingers play with the buttons and doesn't make a move until each one is slowly undone and my top falls open. Alison lowers her head and licks the top of my breasts, above my bra. She is driving me crazy and she knows it. I lift myself onto my elbows and decide to play her at her own game, pushing my chest forward and running my tongue along her top lip, touching her teeth and nibbling at her. She responds by running her hands over my shoulders and pushing away my open top, and I wriggle free of it. She notices the scars on my right arm and retracts a little.
"They're nearly ten years old," I tell her.
"Did you do them yourself?" she asks quietly.
"Yeah, it's a long story."
"It's fine," she reassures me. "It doesn't change my plans."
"Your plans?"
"To completely and utterly own you, for one night."
"Then for Christ's sake, please just do it!"
She obliges by taking my hands and moving them to her own shirt, and I slip the buttons through their holes and slide the top off her. Her bra is turquoise with sequins and I stroke her breasts through it, feeling her nipples harden and watching her close her eyes and suck in her breath. I take the opportunity to catch her unawares and with my right hand I quickly snap open her bra from behind. Her eyes flick open and her mouth opens in what look like horror, but then she grins and shakes her head.
"I got caught off guard," she says, grimly, and pins my arms back down. She begins an all-out devouring of my body, licking my neck, and my chest, and my stomach. She undoes my bra with her own hand impressively and begins to tug at the button of my trousers, deftly opening it and without stopping, she yanks down my trousers and leaves me lying on the bed, naked but for my knickers. The satin material is dark in its wetness and she notices this and exhales, closing her eyes in rapture. I'm nervous and yet hugely complimented that this woman is clearly excited to see how turned on I am. She presses two fingers to my damp pants and I groan in surprised pleasure when she licks her fingertips delicately and savours their flavour. I shift my legs slightly wider, blatantly inviting her to fuck me. She grabs my thighs and dives into my crotch, licking me through my pants crazily. I feel her tongue press against my clit and I begin to see stars, crying out then clamping my hand over my mouth so as to hide the noises from my neighbours. She tugs at my knickers and pulls them down, over my thighs, my knees and then my ankles, before tossing them off the bed. I am completely naked and exposed but I do not care.
"I can see your wetness," Alison whispers, her eyes fixing on mine.
"You've got me unbelievably turned on," I gasp, beginning to move my hips in their rhythmic motion, enticing her tongue once more. She nibbles my thighs and moves towards my crotch once more; with the tiniest tip of her tongue she slowly licks me from the hole to my clit, scooping up my juices and letting them dribble down her tongue. I am blown away that someone so new to me would do something so intimate but it feels as though she has been doing this to me forever. She is past teasing me now and gently takes her fingers and opens my lips, exposing my throbbing clit. She whispers something I cannot decipher and begins to lick me slowly, sending electrifying bolts of lightening from my toes to the tips of my hair. She licks me rhythmically and I grab her head and push myself against her, panting loudly, not caring who hears me now.
"Oh, Jesus," I moan, as she reaches her hands up my chest and pinches my nipples hard. She makes me curl towards her with my body, holding her head with both hands, my shoulders off the pillow, my feet raised in the air. I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter but she deals with it like a professional, lapping up whatever I give her, sucking on my clit, grazing her teeth over the tip. The feeling is incredible and I am finding it hard to breathe, with every exhalation I am moaning louder and louder, but there is something missing, something extra I need. My brain searches for what it is but Alison answers me telepathically by taking her fingers from my nipple and instead introducing them to my cunt. She needs no lube and slides in two fingers, claiming me without permission. The feeling of sheer relief is overwhelming as she leaves her fingers still for at least ten seconds, as if to emphasise her action. Then she begins to stroke me from the inside, and instead of licking my clit she bites my thighs. The pain only intensifies the pleasure and as she presses on my G-spot with her fingers I can feel the pressure rising. She has been fucking me for barely five minutes and already the pleasure is becoming too much and I feel I am going to lose it.
"Wait," I say, panting. "I'm going to come."
"And what's wrong with that?" Alison asks, between pushing her fingers inside deeper and biting my thighs.
"It's happening quickly..." I don't even know why I am concerned but I am shocked that she has got me this close so soon. I start to pull away slightly and she grabs my thigh quickly, pinching my skin.
"Don't you dare move," she growls. "You're going to come right now. You're going to feel me fuck you to within an inch of your life, and don't you even dare to stop me."
I cannot do anything but surrender as she begins her rhythmic stroking of me from the inside, alternating between sucking my clit and biting my thighs and stomach. Once more the swirling intensity is building and I start to picture myself stood naked on the top of a hill in a vast expanse, and before I know it I am thrust forwards and am tearing down the hill at the speed of light, and stars are showering me all over, and I realise I am coming, pushing against her as she pushes against me, fucking me so hard I feel myself explode on her hand, soaking her as she moans, feeling me pulsate from inside my cunt, until I can't take any more and collapse back onto the bed, panting, desperately trying to get my breath and pushing her hand away as I can't possible stand to feel her fingers tease me any more. She begins to withdraw her hand but I stop her, enjoying the feel of her filling me up without moving. She is no longer predatory and instead gives me tiny kisses where she has marked me with her teeth, sighing into my crotch and closing her eyes. I watch her lie there, between my legs, as though she has done this to me a thousand times, and I tap her on the head and beckon her to come up and lie with me. She slowly removes her fingers from inside me and as she does so she makes me squirm. She giggles and finally her hand is free, and she crawls up to my chest, where she lies on my breasts and throws an arm over me.
"Holy shit," is all I can say. I am utterly exhausted and cannot for the life of me move. I want to kiss her, touch her, explore her body the way she has mine, but I have nothing left. Not one iota of energy. The physical exertion of my shift and the fucking of a lifetime have taken every shred of life from me. But as I lie there, my hand across Alison as her head is on my breast, I hear the faintest snoring and realise that she is asleep. I stare in wonderment at the mysterious lover who, in less than an evening, has stormed into my life, my bed, and my body, flooring me and leaving me as helpless as a child.
"Thanks for the drink," I whisper to her, as she stirs in dreamy unconsciousness.