Author: Mary Cook Feel free to email with with comments/suggestions at r.cook2@ukonline.co.uk This is my first erotic story.
Kate and Rachel
"Look, just take her, please. I promise I'll make it up to you." "She hates me John, and I hate her. Not much potential for conversation." "That's great potential for conversation - you can argue and when that's exhausted, you can discuss me in a demeaning way. I even give you my permission to tell her the Bra and Dress story." "Shut up, you'd never let me tell her that about you." "That shows you how serious I am. Come on, please." "Why can't you take her?" "I told you, I have to work and Rachel has always wanted to go to Italy - it's her dream. I can't disappoint her." "But why me !? Why can't she take one of her little friends, or go on her own?" "Come on Kate, be realistic, all her friends are high flying business people, they can't take three days off in the middle of the week for a jaunt to Italy. She can't go on her own because she doesn't know Venice, she's awful with maps, she couldn't navigate her way out of a small room with one door. I wouldn't put it past her to manage to spend the entire holiday finding her hotel." "I'll think about it. You say you'll pay for everything - wine, food, clothes, ticket..." "Yes yes yes. Thank you so much, I won't forget this." "What are sisters for?"
So, I had to take Ms Goddess, aka Rachel aka rotten apple of John's eye aka his wife. Still, I remained optimistic. Perhaps I could dump her in some art gallery while I went off in search of more invigorating company. And there was the all expenses paid aspect of it.
We were due to fly off on Tuesday afternoon which left me a couple of days to tie up any loose business ends. This took only a call to my boss telling him he would be a receptionist short for three days - my career wasn't quite as high flying as Rachel's friends'. I spent the rest of the time buying essential holiday equipment such as sun-tan lotion, film, Lilets (according to the advert, essential to the enjoyment of a holiday) and a suitcase.
I didn't know how Rachel had taken the news that she was not going to Italy with darling John but with nasty me. When I arrived at the airport, I saw her on her own looking surprisingly passive. No sign of John. Perhaps he had retreated to the Men's to regroup before the next onslaught of her temper.
"Hi. How are you?" I ventured. "Fine." said Rachel, still amicable. "Isn't John here?" "No, he had to leave a minute ago - all this work he's got at the moment. You know." "Yes. Lets get on the plane."
I inwardly grinned to myself. This trip might be OK, Rachel was in a good mood and if she had decided to be, so would I.
The journey was uneventful except for a drunken passenger who started behaving in an "unruly manner" according to the air hostess and who was "disturbing other passengers". I don't know about anyone else but I just concentrated on the inflight movie and Rachel was asleep.
We landed, got our luggage, found a cab, and got to the hotel all in the space of about 7 hours. By that time it was 8.00 in the evening (Italian time) and I was feeling slightly peckish. I decided I would be courteous and ask Rachel if she wished to join me for dinner. After all, I would be abandoning her for the rest of the holiday which I felt slight pangs of guilt about and I hoped to quell them with this gesture of kindness.
I wandered over to her room and found her in the corridor looking lost. "I was trying to find the lift." "There isn't one." I said as nicely as possible. "Ah." "I was wondering if you'd like to come and get some dinner. I'm feeling pretty hungry." "Yeah, me too. Where do you want to go?" "I saw this little restaurant when we arrived at the hotel. It's just down the road." "OK, that sounds good. Let me just get changed." "I'll meet you downstairs."
Rachel went off to her room and I got down to the lobby. I waited for five minutes wondering what would be on the menu, hoping there were garlic mushrooms. No sign of Rachel. I began trying to guess what she would put on. I thought probably a sharp business suit. I imagined it tight, black, with a stiff collar. I idly wondered what sort of underwear she wore. Probably lacy and sexy. I thought of my own and how it would pale in comparison if put side by side with hers. She came down the stairs. She was wearing the suit I had imagined. I had no time to ponder on the coincidence of this before she said: "Shall we go then?" "OK."
We got very drunk.
Bottle after bottle of wine seemed to appear on the table. There were garlic mushrooms on the menu but I decided against them and had pasta with a pesto sauce. I was so hungry I even ate the parsley on top. I couldn't make out whether she was as drunk as I was. She seemed to be swaying but that could easily be put down to my inability to focus. We got along better and better as the evening went on.
After paying the bill, we staggered back to the hotel, supporting each other as we climbed the steps. Blundering in through the door, I slipped and fell, cracking my knees on the hard tiled floor. Rachel, instead of bursting into laughter as I had done, looked down at me anxiously and said: "Are you allwright?" I laughed and said "Yesh. I'm fine. Shallright."
Somehow we got up the stairs and found our way to my room. I wrestled with the lock, turning the key round and round but it wouldn't open. Rachel must have had a sudden moment of clarity and hit upon turning the handle. The door opened. She turned round saying: "Ahhhhh, sho thatsh how it opensh..." She stopped. We were face to face, our noses practically touching. I was so drunk I thought she was going to kiss me. She coughed and roused herself.
"I must ge' to bed." She collapsed. I wasn't going to drag her all the way to her room. I carried her through my door and lifted her onto the bed. I undressed her to her underwear. In the dim mists of my mind, I noticed that it wasn't black and lacy, it was white and simple but still sexy. I fell down beside her on the bed and immediately went to sleep.
I woke up with a start. Light was pouring in through the windows. I got up and looked outside and saw lots of people on the street, all going about their business. I turned back to the room and saw Rachel was waking. She sat up and looked about her in puzzlement, then saw me and a look of horror crossed her face.
"What am I doing in here? This is your room?" "Yes, you passed out in the corridor when we arrived home from the restaurant." "The last thing I remember was turning the door handle of your room. After that, nothing." "Do you want some tea? Breakfast? I was going to get room service anyway." "Just tea please. I'll go back to my own room and get some clothes."
She got out of bed, seemingly unaware of the fact she was in only her underwear.
"Um, do you want to borrow a dressing gown?" "Oh, yeah, thanks."
She went to her room, dressed in the dressing gown. I telephoned reception for the tea and breakfast and was still waiting when I saw her clothes strewn across the floor. I picked up her shirt. It smelt nice - milky cinnamon. I couldn't quite hit upon what perfume it was. I folded the rest of the clothes and put them on a chair.
Rachel returned, looking amazing in a white two piece suit. I felt slightly inadequate. My smartest clothes were like the ones she wore everyday. I shuddered to think what she had brought for a really special occasion.
The breakfast came and I bolted mine. Rachel quietly sipped her tea and we didn't talk, just concentrated on our own activities.
Eventually I broke the silence "What do you want to do today?" "I'm not sure. Are you an art gallery person or a sitting-in-a-cafe person?" "Whichever. Probably today, since it's such lovely weather, I'm a cafe person. What about you?" "Oh definitely cafe."
Conversation slowed to a comfortable silence. I'd decided during the previous evening to spend the holiday with Rachel. I reflected on my opinions of Rachel and how they had changed. She was good fun and didn't mind consuming large quantities of wine (I'd thought her rather a prig before we came on holiday).
I finished breakfast and said "OK, I have to get dressed. Do you want to leave after that or later on?" "After you're dressed - I love being out in the morning."
She relapsed into thought again and seemed content to go on drinking her tea. I moved behind her and got dressed in my only suit. It paled in comparison to hers.
"Shall we go?" "Yes. I want to find a little cafe with roadside tables covered in red and white chequed clothes with a small waiter who serves coffee with the speed of light." "Ha, it'll be childsplay. Lets go."
We went downstairs and into the street and looked up and down it. "Which way" I said. "Left I think, my feminine intuition tells me left."
We walked for fifteen minutes passing only grocery shops and warehouses. So this was Rachel's famous sense of direction John had told me about. Still, I didn't mind, it was pleasant just to walk out in the sun, talking idly to Rachel.
"A shame John couldn't come. He never seems to stop working does he?" "No. But I don't mind so much him not coming. To be honest, I wasn't too pleased about coming with you when John told me. But now, I'm pleased, we get on well."
She said this in such a natural way, I was flattered. Eventually, we got to the end of the road and there was still no sign of a cafe, chequed cloths or otherwise. But just as we were turning I looked down an alley and saw something red and white flapping in the breeze.
"Rachel. Look down there."
She looked and smiled, took my hand and pulled me down the alley. We arrived and saw...a red and white chequered dishcloth, blowing in the wind. But, there was a small waiter at the end of it and he was standing in the doorway of a cheery looking cafe. It was decorated with hundreds of postcards from around the world. They adorned every wall. I grinned in happiness.
The waiter showed us to an old wooden table and we sat down and ordered two coffees and crossiants with strawberry jam and butter. They arrived almost immediately and we set about consumption.
"Oh, this is so lovely. I wish I lived in Italy. What a life it'd be."
I smiled in agreement. Rachel took a bite from her croissant and a large splodge of jam fell into her lap onto her white skirt. I was so distraught at that lovely skirt being spoiled I dived into the cafe and returned brandishing napkins. I got on my knees and mopped and dabbed and padded, not noticing Rachel looking down at me in amusement. She actually started laughing and I heard and looked up.
"I...I didn't want your skirt to get spoiled, it's so beautiful."
I looked down into her lap again and saw I'd probably made it worse. She had a circle of red about four inches across.
"I can lend you some tampax if you like" I said and started laughing and looked up at her. She was laughing so hard she was just silently shaking.
I sat down on the ground and we both laughed and laughed and laughed. My stomach hurt so much I had to stop or I felt I'd die. I got up and sat back in my seat.
"Well, I guess we'll have to stay here until it gets dark because I'm sure you don't want to walk back to the hotel like that." "Lets see how the day goes. Perhaps you could walk in front of me as protection from roving eyes." "They'll all be on you anyway so that's no good."
I realised what I'd said and felt foolish but after a moment, I was pleased.
The rest of the day passed in a whirl of more coffee, wine, food and laughing. I didn't tell Rachel the Bra and Dress story, there was no need - conversation flowed easily. We talked about John a little, and our jobs, what we wanted in life, how fun this holiday was.
Eventually, it got dark without either of us noticing. Rachel looked up at the sky in surprise and then looked at her watch. "It's nine o'clock. Time really does fly."
"Better head back to the hotel." We paid the bill, thanked the waiter and set off. I was slightly drunk again and we went quite slowly back to the hotel, arms linked. We passed the broken down old warehouses, most of them with broken windows and doors hanging off their hinges. As we went up the steps of the hotel, I felt so happy. Here I was with good company and on a holiday that was being paid for by someone else.
"Are you hungry?" "Not really...I'm thirsty though - want to go upstairs and have a drink?" said Rachel. "Yeah, good idea."
We went up to her room and she phoned down for a bottle of wine. We settled back on the bed, kicking off our shoes. A breeze was coming in through the window and I swung my legs off the bed saying "I'll just shut that window."
"No don't it's nice."
There was a knock on the door, I went to open it and in came a maid with a bottle of red wine on a tray. She set it down on the table and left. I poured two glasses and handed one to Rachel. Sitting back onto the bed I rolled my shoulders backwards and forward, trying to rid them of the stiffness I'd been feeling all day.
"Have you got sore shoulders?" said Rachel. "No, they're just stiff." "Here, let me give you a massage - I read a book about massage techniques a few months ago. John gets back pain sometimes."
I turned my back to Rachel. She laid her hands on my shoulders and began to work away the stiffness with her surprisingly powerful hands. I let out little sighs and gasps of enjoyment. I turned round to tell her she had wonderful hands and found myself looking into her face. She was breathing quickly from her exertion. We stayed looking at each other. Her breathing gradually slowed to the pace of mine and still we looked at each other. Then suddenly I knew I was going to sneeze, I turned away, pinching my nose and stifling it. It seemed to have departed. I let go of my nose and suddenly sneezed extremely loudly. It seemed to reverberate off the walls. I turned back to her grinning "That...". I didn't get any further, Rachel had put her hands round the back of my head and neck and pulled me towards her and kissed me full on the lips. I was about to spring away when I felt myself kissing her back, and we stayed like that, me half turned and her on her knees while we kissed and kissed and kissed. She had parted my lips and her tongue was inside my mouth. She suddenly broke away.
I was still half turned, staring dumbly at her. She began to stroke my hair and I saw that she had just stopped so she could move and sit beside me. I slid my hand down her neck and shoulder and onto her breast. Our kissing had become more intense and I moved my hand to her shirt buttons and undid them clumsily. Rachel was pulling me on top of her. My body was between her legs and her shirt was open to the waist. I carried on kissing her, not knowing what to do until she placed her hands over my ears and guided my mouth to her cleavage. I kissed at her breasts and found I was unconsciously pushing myself between her legs. I slid my hand down between us and rubbed her through her tights. She gasped and sighed, pushing against my hand as I rubbed her and sucked at her breasts.
She took hold of my hand and pushed it harder than I had liked to against herself. My breathing was heavy and quick and I looked into her face and saw a look of desire and need. Then she pushed my hand against herself with all her strength and crossed her legs, crushing my fingers and let out a series of short gasps and then she was still. Our breathing was the only noise as I lay down beside her and looked into her face.
She had her eyes shut. I whispered into her ear "Rachel. Rachel." She didn't reply. I lay my head on her shoulder and fell asleep.
I woke up and felt I had clothes on. Opening my eyes, I looked around me and saw I was in Rachel's room. I remembered. She wasn't on the bed. I stood up, feeling light-headed and my eyes fell upon a piece of paper. In Rachel's handwriting was written:
Kate,
Have gone to the airport. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.
It was all a mistake.
Rachel
I sat down and burst into tears. Last night, I had felt at peace at last, the missing piece in my life had been filled and now it had been torn away, irreparable. When I was at last cried out, I looked at my watch. Eight o'clock. There was only one flight per day back to England at eleven o'clock. I ran from Rachel's room to my own and started packing with no plan but to pursue her. I called reception and asked them to order me a cab to the airport. I dragged my suitcase downstairs, approached the desk to pay the bill and then remembered John had taken care of everything before we left. John. I didn't know where he fitted in with Rachel and I but that matter could wait. I went outside and found the taxi waiting. I ran down the steps and got in and told the driver to go to the airport as fast as he could.
The journey was a blur of buildings and thoughts about what had happened the night before. I remembered her tender kiss, all the more glorious because my sneeze had broken the moment, yet she still kissed me.
When I arrived at the airport, it was 10 o'clock and I went to the information desk and asked whether Rachel was on the 11.00 o'clock to England. They said they couldn't release that information. I showed them some ID, proving who I was. I said I was Rachel's sister (we had the same surname from her marriage to John) and they told me she was on the flight.
I bought a ticket, went through the X-ray gate and ran to the departure lounge. I looked around me, it was almost empty. I couldn't see her.
I walked down the aisles of seats, looking down each one. She wasn't there. I'd got to the end of the room and turned round to go back when I saw her coming out of a door at the opposite end. I quickly sat down with my back to her, trying to think what to do.
Why had she left? Was it as she said - a mistake. I didn't believe that. Had she got scared John would find out? Was it too weird for her to handle? I decided the best thing to do would be surprise her into showing her true feelings. I knew I would have a difficult time handling her not returning my, well, my whatever for her but I would have an even worse time if I didn't know how she felt about me.
I walked to her end of the lounge. Her back was still towards me. I knelt on the seat behind her, leant forward and gently bit her ear as I had done the night before. She whirled round as I had expected and I grabbed her face and pulled her lips onto mine and kissed her. She mmmmfffffed in protest and pushed me away. I fell backwards onto the floor and when I looked up at her, I knew I hadn't been wrong. I saw that same anxious look she had given me when I had fallen on the first night. Only this time it was slightly different. Softer. More gentle.
She moved round the seat and helped me up. "We really need to talk." I said. "Yes. It...it wasn't a mistake was it?" "No." I said solemnly but with my heart leaping. "All I know is that when I'm with you, I'm completely happy. And when we were together last night, my desire for you was on a higher level than I've ever experienced before. Even with..." she hesitated. "Don't say it. I don't want to come between you and John but if you feel more for me than you do for him..." "I think I'm in love with you."
I sighed a sigh of happiness, of relief, resign. I kissed her softly on the cheek and then on her forehead. I pulled her in close to me, resting her head on my shoulder and thought of everything that had happened. How much had changed. I was so sad because I knew my love for my Rachel was stronger than my love for my brother.
I looked down and kissed Rachel, knowing I could never be without her. "I love you." I whispered.
Mary Cook - r.cook2@ukonline.co.uk
Nonsense, lighter fluid is a far superior drink to meths
...Withnail and I