Jojo's French Escape

by Lorraine Wilson

  And whatever happens I will never, ever have sex near an open laptop or anything with the capacity for video so … I’m fine. It’s fine.

  My body is silently begging for more than touching. If Cal doesn’t take the lead soon the begging might have to become vocal. I call a truce between desire and the fluttering anxiety – this is sex, not love.

  It’s only sex. I can enjoy it while protecting myself. I just need to hold some of myself back this time, not be so naive.

  I think I’ve probably well and truly left my naïveté behind me, somewhere between home and the Channel Tunnel terminal in Folkestone.

  ‘You okay?’ he asks quietly.

  I nod.

  ‘I had imagined a different kind of … tasting but this … um … works.’ My cheeks feel very hot. All of me is very hot now I think about it.

  Callum laughs, breaking the intensity of the moment and the locked gaze.

  ‘Oh, that wasn’t the tasting. That was just the amuse-bouche before the tasting.’ Callum grins.

  ‘Amuse-bouche?’ I snort with laughter.

  ‘Yes, it’s a small taste of what’s to come, served before a starter. It literally means to amuse …’

  ‘The mouth, yes, I know what it is,’ I say. ‘Well it’s certainly worked. You’ve whetted my appetite. What else have you got on the menu then?’

  ‘Would you like my head between your thighs for starters?’

  My sex throbs a response.

  ‘God, yes,’ I blurt.

  He takes me by the hand, leading me out of the kitchen. ‘Your room or mine?’

  ‘Mine,’ I say quickly. As part of my self-protective strategy my room is the safer choice: definitely no laptops or devices with webcams that could possibly be activated remotely. I would never have known that was a thing, were it not for my special interest.

  First, we have to evict Flump from my bed and put him outside. From the look he gives me he isn’t impressed.

  Then Cal and I are kissing again, and I can’t think about anything. I can only feel. It feels so good to be touched again. I really have missed this, the human contact and the sense of connection. I want his hands everywhere. All of me craves his fingers, his mouth and …

  I reach between us and press my palm against Cal’s growing erection, feeling it stiffen through his jeans at my touch. Then I open the remaining buttons of his shirt and pull it open, stroking the hard muscle and the dark hair that snakes down into his waistband.

  Cal guides me back towards the bed and when the back of my thighs hit the mattress he pushes me down, gently but firmly persuading me to lie down. He tugs me back down towards him a little so that my bottom is close to the edge of the bed. Then he pushes my dress up to my waist and spreads my legs wide so his mouth can get better access from his position down on the floor.

  I expect him to strip me, but he takes his time stroking me through the lacy fabric of my knickers. The increasingly damp lacy fabric. He increases the pressure until I’m squirming and desperate to feel his fingers inside me again. It feels like an age before he pulls down my knickers, edging them down over my thighs.

  I exhale loudly when he parts my legs even further, stretching me wide open.

  When he slides two fingers inside me and scissors them to open me up my exhalation becomes a sigh of pure pleasure.

  I catch a glimpse of Cal’s reflection in the mirror opposite the bed and see that he is absolutely intent on what he’s doing, focused on my sex like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen in ages. When he curls his fingers back so that they hook my G-spot I almost buck off of the bed. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this responsive. Is this just my body being pathetically grateful to experience human touch after so long?

  Or something more?

  I prop myself up on my elbows so I can look into Callum’s blue eyes and I’m startled by the jolt of connection I feel. It’s unexpected, this emotional connection. Exposing myself emotionally as well as physically wasn’t part of the plan.

  I close my eyes and let feeling obliterate thought as Cal’s thumb circles lightly over my clit at the same time as he manually manipulates my G-spot. I’m lost in sensation, my breathing fast and shallow, getting closer and closer, when all of a sudden he withdraws his hand. I prop myself back up again and open my eyes to stare at him questioningly.

  He smiles wickedly. He’s teasing me and enjoying it. I narrow my eyes in response.

  ‘This, JoJo, is what I meant by a tasting menu.’ He lowers himself back down so his head is between my thighs. ‘And I don’t plan to rush it. I like to savour what I taste. This is just the starter.’

  With one hand on each thigh, stretching me wide, he lowers his mouth to my clit and sucks me hard, making me buck and moan. He alternates gentle pressure with firm – licking, kissing and tasting me everywhere. I have to say I feel … well, savoured, I suppose, does cover it. Just as I can feel my climax mounting he takes one hand off of my thigh and slips his fingers inside me again, fingering my G-spot at the same time as he teases my clit with his tongue.

  Fuck. I jerk off the bed so hard when I climax that I seriously worry I might’ve broken Callum’s nose with my pelvis. Is that even possible? I lie panting, rocked by the scale of the seismic orgasm. When I raise my head and look up at him I’m relieved to see an absence of blood. Phew, that would’ve been an awkward injury to describe to a doctor. Never mind what the internet would have had to say about it …

  That thought makes me want to giggle hysterically but luckily I’m too mellow for hysteria and I’ve recovered myself by the time Cal strips off his clothes and climbs onto the bed next to me. His erection presses against my hip as he takes off the rest of my clothes and fondles my breasts with that surprising tenderness again. He stares with fascination at my hardening nipples and although I’m still recovering from my climax his focused attention is sending my libido through the roof again.

  His erection twitches against my hip again and I reach out to stroke it. I want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given me. When I crawl down to take his cock in my mouth a flash of memory distracts me, the part of the sex tape that showed me giving Aiden a blow job. I try to focus but part of me wants to look over my shoulder to triple check there’s no strategically placed phone filming me even though this is my room and I know there can’t be …

  As if he senses my mental distraction Cal reaches down and threads his fingers in my hair, stroking it in a way that makes me melt and sets my scalp tingling. It definitely gets me focused again. His touch draws me back into the moment and I focus on giving Cal pleasure, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock and taking his shaft deep into my mouth. His moans tell me I’m doing something right. I’d forgotten the deep satisfaction of giving this kind of pleasure. I focus on his breathing and shut out the voices of the internet trolls who made me feel dirty, who said I didn’t deserve to live. The only voices that matter at the present moment are mine and Cal’s. The World Wide Web has shrunk down to the here and now, to the two of us.

  The present moment is all there is and I lose myself in it, in the sensation and the feeling and the joy of connection that I’ve missed so much.

  Only now do I realise how much I’ve been missing it. Of course, I knew I was lonely but I thought I was okay. Okay-ish.

  Now that Callum and I are touching each other in the most intimate way possible I realise just how disconnected I’ve been. I’ve always been a toucher, a hugger, tactile and easy with my affections. I’ve always loved easily and freely.

  Too freely.

  In hiding away from the world I’ve suppressed a vital, affectionate part of my personality. Allowing it expression again feels joyful and emancipating but also terrifying. Well, I’m feeling the fear and doing it anyway, like Mum’s fridge magnet tells me to. I focus on Cal, on his taste, on the sounds he makes and the feel of his cock as it slides between my lips. I focus on the tenderness he’s shown me, on all the times he’s been there to help me out, on all
the positive seeds of thought he’s been sowing in my mind on our daily walks.

  And on the core of strength I sense in him that makes me want to lean against him and let him protect me, just for a little bit. I know, I know, I’m a big girl and should be able to protect myself and all that but sometimes it’s just nice to know that somebody competent has your back. Because I’m so, so tired of having to be strong alone in this amazing, terrifying world. Holding everything inside has been exhausting. Can I really just let go?

  I feel Cal’s eyes on me and look up to see him watching me. I don’t stop but take him in deeper, continuing to mimic the clench of my sex with my mouth while I cup and play with his balls.

  He strokes my hair back from my face and the intense, tender expression in his eyes draws me in again. As our gazes lock the background chatter in my head fades away and I feel a kind of peaceful contentment, so mellow I feel like I’m a cat stretching out in a patch of sunshine. Just basking. Just being.

  For the first time in ages I don’t have memories from the past or fears for the future rolling in my mind like a constant ticker-tape. I’m actually in the present moment and it’s good.

  I taste salty pre-cum on my tongue and lap harder, swallowing when he comes, all the while locking eyes with him and never once breaking my gaze. After a year of self-imposed isolation the intimacy of the moment blows me away.

  I crawl up the bed and lie next to Callum. He lies on his side and gently strokes my face, my hair, my back … The caresses reveal more of Callum’s gentle side. That he can be both intensely commanding and supremely tender is threatening my ability to hold myself back from him emotionally.

  But I have to, have to … need to do things differently this time. Even if all I want to do is crawl into Cal’s arms and stay there forever. I quite fancy the idea of attaching myself to him like a baby koala and refusing to let go.

  I smile at the ridiculous image and Cal reaches out to touch my lips.

  ‘Where did you disappear to?’ he asks.

  ‘Uh … I …’ I consider pretending I’ve no idea what he means but I’d be lying, and he knows it. It feels wrong to lie to him after the intimacies we’ve just shared. I hesitate and consider how to explain without ruining this moment. ‘It’s hard to shut out everything that happened to me. You’re the first since … you know … it all happened.’

  ‘You’re talking about the show?’

  ‘Well, yes, partly. I ended up getting lots of vile trolls on social media because of the show but it was after the … the tape … it got really bad – you know, the tape Aiden leaked?’

  He nods and it’s an effort to maintain eye contact. I’m tempted to bury my face against his chest. To hide from him. I manage not to pull away but it’s far from comfortable looking into Cal’s piercing blue eyes. As always, it’s like he sees far more than I’m consciously allowing and that feels … disconcerting.

  ‘I suppose when you’ve been slut-shamed you’re bound to feel a bit funny about sex,’ I say. ‘It’s … awkward.’

  Fuck. Am I really talking about myself in the third person? And awkward doesn’t even cover it but the achingly painful places inside me feel too grubby to air, especially in this special space we’ve created in this room. Talk about ruining the mood.

  What if he runs a mile when he sees just how dark some of my thoughts are? And they are. I’m talking an abyss, black hole type of dark.

  ‘Why do you feel ashamed when it was Aiden who acted like a prick?’ Callum’s piercing stare is unwavering, not giving me any wiggle room.

  Shame. My biggest enemy, even worse than fear. Its thorns have hooked me, got under my skin, and it clings to me despite all my attempts to wriggle free.

  ‘I just do.’ I shrug. ‘I know in my head all I did was have sex with my boyfriend and … enjoy it. Somehow that makes me a slut. People don’t believe I didn’t know I was being filmed so I just got what I deserved but I really didn’t. Didn’t know I was being filmed I mean.’

  I know I’m gabbling but I can’t help it. After so much containment the words seem to want to spill out.

  ‘Your ex is the one who should be ashamed,’ Callum says firmly. ‘Please tell me you know that, JoJo.’

  I stare at him intently, looking for a sign he’s just telling me what I want to hear. Looking for any evidence that he doesn’t believe his own words. I don’t think he’s playing me.

  ‘But Aiden isn’t ashamed. Not even remotely.’ I laugh bitterly. I will never, ever be okay with the logic of the sexual double standard that has Aiden as a bit of a lad and me as a slut.

  ‘So, why on earth are you carrying his shame?’ Callum strokes my face again with that devastating combination of tenderness and unrelenting challenge that undoes me. I swallow hard and suppress the urge to cry. I just about manage but I still can’t speak.

  ‘Come here and have a cuddle.’ Callum’s expression softens and he pulls me into his arms. ‘You’re lovely, JoJo, and you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ I mutter into his chest and melt into the embrace, enjoying the sensation of being held, of letting go of the weight I’ve been carrying, just for a few minutes.

  I think he knows I don’t believe it. Not at an intrinsic heart-knowledge level.

  As if he reads my mind he pulls me up from the bed and over to the floor in front of the full-length mirror. He sits with his legs wide open and gets me to sit in between his legs, my back to him.

  ‘Open your eyes, JoJo.’

  Cal’s commanding tone gets me obeying instantly.

  He strokes my lower lip. I watch him, watch myself, watching him …

  ‘Nothing …’

  He strokes down my neck to my breasts, caressing them with soft sensual circles.

  ‘To …’

  Both hands reach down to my abdomen, continuing to stroke.

  ‘Be …’

  His hands reach the top crease of my thighs and he parts them, hooking each leg over his so I’m fully exposed to the mirror, both of us watching.

  ‘Ashamed …’

  He strokes my sex tenderly, playing with my clit, dipping first one finger inside me and then two.

  ‘Of …’

  I struggle to keep my eyes open as he brings me to my second climax. My sex contracts around his fingers and I watch myself … watching him … watching me come.

  ‘You’re beautiful, JoJo,’ he says, planting a kiss on top of my head. ‘You’re sexy and there is nothing wrong with that. Don’t you ever let anyone make you feel ashamed of your sexuality again.’

  I lean my head back against his chest and smile. He really does sound quite commanding, quite stern.

  ‘You’re pretty sexy yourself, you know,’ I say, wriggling my bottom back against him. ‘Are we ready for the next course yet? Ah, yes, I can feel you are.’

  Back on the bed Cal enters me for the first time and I welcome him, uncoiling and opening. I draw him in, deeper and harder, enjoying the weight of him on top of me, between my thighs, revelling in the unique energy we create together. It’s not just sensation, it’s both a release and a connection. It’s joy.

  Cal hooks both my legs over his shoulders and now the penetration is deep, so much deeper and harder. Sweat beads on our skin and by the time Cal climaxes inside me we’re both breathless and spent.

  We are still for a moment, Cal still inside me. Still one.

  That was …

  I have no words left and crawl gratefully into Cal’s embrace. He puts an arm around me and hooks one of my ankles over his so I’m lying half on top of him.

  It seems I needed this, for Cal to unhook thorns of a different kind. To disentangle me. I used to think strength meant having to do everything ourselves, to be independent and above all things to cope. I’m wondering now if real strength lies in asking for help, in letting a gentle pair of hands help to set us free. It’s not weak to be afraid and it’s not weak to ask for help if we get stuck.

  As we
cuddle and I hear Cal’s breathing deepen into sleep I’m remembering what he said to me about nature, how interconnected we all are and how the lone trees who don’t get to share resources suffer.

  I really don’t want to be a lone tree any more.

  I nestle my head against Cal’s chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

  Just sex … Yeah, right.

  Chapter 9

  ‘I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear’

  Nelson Mandela

  From callum@callum’scook-off.com

  To caitlino’connor85@hotmail.com

  Subject: Trouble

  Hi sis, I hope you’re okay and my little nephew to-be isn’t giving you too much trouble? Is he still kicking at night?

  So it seems working out what I want to do next in life is a little more complicated than I expected. I feel pulled in several directions and my agent obviously has very strong views but honestly, I’m still not sure what to do next.

  Also, a slight, teeny tiny complication – I may just have fallen for an ex-reality star. Yes, you know who. I know, after the way I slagged off Sex in the Suburbs it’s kind of ironic that I’m willingly taking a step into that world. If the press find out. Which of course they will at some point and it’ll be some kind of sordid love triangle or whatever. Meh. You’re laughing, aren’t you?

  I don’t know, it’s hard. She’s special but she’s been really badly hurt, I don’t want to put her through any more crap, but I feel drawn to her in a way I can’t explain logically. It’s thrown everything up in the air for me to be honest.

  Planning the Barn restaurant has been great though, it’s reminded me of the good old days when I cared more about substance than style. Part of me is feeling tempted … but we’ll see. I’ll let you know when things are a bit clearer for me.

  Take good care of yourself Caitlin and say Hi to Mike.

  From annabelgrant@thestickybun.co.uk

  To joannagrant@thestickybun.co.uk

  Subject: Thought you ought to know