Losing Inhibitions_Sexy in the Sun

by Jools Louise

  Unable to stay in the apartment he had shared, Jackson had moved into the apartment next to mine, wounded and raw. I had met him trying to shift a load of boxes up three flights of stairs as the elevator was on the blink again, and had begun helping him. We instantly clicked, which was a surprise to me as I’d never been friends with anyone who was gay before, and whilst not having any particular prejudices, I just had never really clicked with anyone so quickly, male or female.

  Jackson was just a regular kind of guy, kind, unpretentious, and nonjudgmental. He didn’t blather on about being gay, he just was. I found nothing more annoying than meeting a person constantly trying to justify their preferences to anyone within earshot. It’s like those people who go to church every Sunday, making sure everyone knows that’s what they do on a Sunday and anyone else is somehow inferior.

  I don’t care. I have my opinions and beliefs, but I accept that not everyone is the same. So I say get on with your own lives and stop trying to preach about the choices you’ve made. I’ve always thought that’s the same way with sexual preferences. If you like someone, it shouldn’t matter whether they wear trousers or a skirt, as long as they are willing and adult, and the attraction is mutual. If people spent as much time tending to their own relationships instead of worrying about what goes on in their neighbour’s bedrooms, behind closed doors, the divorce rates would probably reduce by half. That time devoted to their relationship would probably enable them to resolve quite a few issues and let them talk through problems.

  Anyway, back to Jackson. It was two o’clock in the morning by now, and I still hadn’t changed out of my work clothes, yet, but was too snugly comfortable lying against Jackson’s solid, warm body and listening to his strong heartbeat in my ear.

  “What happened?” Jackson’s deep voice was a balm to my ears, and I began to regale him with the visit from the new ASM, Karen. He growled a couple of times as he heard some of stuff the bitch had said, rubbing his hands over my back comfortingly.

  “You know what you need to do, don’t you?” Jackson stated, placing another kiss against my temple and wiping away the fresh flood of tears which trickled along my cheeks.

  “Go on a crash diet? Hire a fitness instructor? Liposuction?” I said sarcastically, somehow fixated on the fact that although Karen had insulted just about everything, the words which had stuck were about my weight.

  Jackson growled again, gripping my upper arms and sitting up straighter on the couch, with me curled up in his lap.

  “What is it with women and weight loss?” He sounded exasperated with me. “Does every woman think a man wants to cuddle a stick insect in bed? Men, real men, want a woman who is soft to the touch, not completely obsessed with their vanity, and can sit and eat a proper meal instead of turning their noses up at real food.” Jackson stared hard at me, his brown eyes irritated. I dropped my gaze, my lower lip trembling again.

  I didn’t like to remind him that he was in fact attracted to men, and whilst his reassurance was a balm to my ego, I wasn’t so sure he was the right person to be talking about what attracted men to women. A year ago, I had told him to decide whether he was gay or not, and he had reverted to best friend mode again. This surely proved he was not attracted to me.

  “Then why am I still single? Dave and I were together for eighteen months, and I did everything I could to make him happy. He even told me the same thing you just did, but in reality the men I meet, under the surface, do want a stick insect, or a Victoria’s Secret model,” I wailed, and his gaze softened.

  “She really hit a nerve, didn’t she? You know what, I would imagine she gets off hurting people who she considers vulnerable. She sees someone who is well liked by her team, who has had rave reviews from senior management for years, and didn’t you say she was a manager herself at one point? Probably no one could tolerate her at store level for long. Maybe you should check the turnover of staff at her store? Sometimes, rather than sacking someone, which is a minefield in itself, people like her get moved to other positions, rather than risking a tribunal. No one likes working for bullies for too long. You’re perfect just the way you are, Jess, so you don’t need to change anything just because some bitch in a power suit is jealous you have something she doesn’t have.” I’d never heard Jackson so passionate and angry before. It made me feel all warm and gooey inside.

  “What do I have that she doesn’t?” I asked hesitantly, and Jackson gave me a look.

  “A personality!” he said, then grinned at me. “Of course, you also have smears of chocolate, snot, and I think that’s maple syrup all over your face as well, but hey! No one’s perfect!”

  “Hey!” I yelped, then grinned at him, his snarkiness just what I needed. I slapped his bicep and he gave me another lovely hug before getting up.

  “You need to change, mate. Can’t have our resident manager looking like a slob!” He danced away after the teasing jibe as I got to my feet and looked down ruefully at my chocolate-stained, wrinkled shirt and trousers.

  “Everyone’s a bloody critic!” I snarked back, curling my lip at him. “I’m going to have a shower, now. Don’t let the door hit you too hard on the way out!” He snorted, not in the least bit offended. As I turned toward the bathroom, I paused, then looked back at him.

  “Thanks, J,” I said sincerely, before leaving to take my shower and get ready for bed. “I’ll go and wash my fat ass now,” I said cheekily and then left.

  “Pleasantly plump!” Jackson yelled after me, chuckling.

  Chapter 2:

  Vacation in Paradise

  Four weeks after my meltdown, I was keeping a lid on it, barely, but getting sincerely fed up with the petty bullying by the bitch ASM Karen. I’d had three more visits, a record, really, considering one visit a month was standard for a store which was overexceeding all its targets like mine was. Jackson said it was because Karen had a hard-on for me. We spent several evenings in stitches as we considered how she was really not a human at all, and the men in black were keeping an eye on her, because she was an alien flesh-eating monster from Zarg. The red power suits covered up the blood from her last meal.

  After those first meetings, I was back to my old self mostly, and certainly didn’t take Karen’s bitchy comments lying down. On one occasion she showed up with lips which were puffed up to twice their usual size. I was later told this was due to lip plumping injections which gave her lips less of a pouty look and more one of a startled puffer fish .I tried to remain professional, whilst trying hard to not stare at her lips, asking how she thought I should improve things in the store and challenging all the criticisms about my management style, especially when the store had won our in-house sales awards three years running.

  Apparently she didn’t have any firm answers, and I decided she was probably just going through the menopause, deciding to ignore her attitude whilst continuing to smash targets so as to not give her anything else to moan about.

  At one point, she threatened a member of my staff, a woman by the name of Gemma who was a young single parent and struggled to find a babysitter. Gemma was about two minutes late, as her youngest son Adam had kicked up a fuss and she had missed her bus, making her slightly late. I knew her issues, and knew she would make up the time, so wasn’t too bothered, but of course the Alien bitch decided this was a sackable offence and read Gemma the riot act.

  Waiting until we returned to the office, I remained calm and collected. “Karen, I realise you have a job to do, but these are my staff and you have no right to interfere in how I discipline or not discipline them, especially while their immediate boss is standing right there. I consider it unprofessional and rude. Particularly when you are not aware of the full circumstances or history, so please mind your own business and let me do my job.” Karen did not like my attitude.

  “I am your manager, and if I feel it necessary to reprimand employees I have every right to do so,” she spouted back, with a sneering once-over kind of look at me.

  “I’m sorry, Karen
, but is there something wrong with your lip?” I asked this with rapidly waning patience with her terrible attitude.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, now looking like she’d sucked on a wasp.

  “Your lip, Karen, looks a little puffy. If you need me to get some ice to reduce the swelling or have you taken to the emergency room, I can arrange it.” I raised a brow at her as she gasped in shock.

  Stuttering, she finally glared at me, having no ready retort, and subsided into sullen silence. Direct hit. After delivering my little zinger, I also told Karen in no uncertain terms that whilst I understood she was passionate about her job, she was still on probationary period as ASM, and I would hate to have her taken to tribunal by an unhappy employee who had just won an employee of the month award, voted for by the entire staff. Said employee may just decide she was being unfairly victimised and may take the matter to the local media, giving bad publicity to the store, something I was sure Karen, in her probationary period as ASM, would not be too happy about, since I was sure that employee would not be too bothered about naming names.

  She had stared hard at me for a while and, seeing me refuse to back down, had mumbled how she had more important things to do than worry about some young slut—her words—who couldn’t keep her legs together, and she was off to visit another store.

  Gritting my teeth, again contemplating “justifiable homicide,” I smiled sweetly as she swept out like a cyclone, before heading to the locker room to calm Gemma down. Thirty minutes later, Gemma was unpacking the delivery after a nice cup of tea and my reassurance that she would not be sacked, and I would leave myself before allowing anyone to be dismissed for such a trivial matter.

  I had the late shift that night, and as I locked up, I noticed a large black car parked on the road beside the store. Glancing at it once more, I began to walk across the car park to the main road. I rarely brought my car, preferring to walk if I could help it, unless it was peeing it down with rain. Tonight was lovely, one of the first mild days of early spring, and I needed to walk to help me unwind.

  As I began to walk, the early evening still quite light, the black car made a U-turn in the middle of the wide road and then purred up beside me. Frowning, I quickened my pace, looking around to see if there was anyone about in case I needed to scream for help.

  “Jess!” I could swear I heard Jackson’s voice coming from the half-open window of the car, and paused uncertainly.

  The back door opened, and sure enough Jackson’s handsome face grinned at me as he stepped out.

  “Hey, luv, thought you might like to eat out this evening,” he said cheerfully, planting a kiss on my cheek. I inhaled the delicious aroma of his spicy aftershave, thinking not for the first time what he’d do if I simply jumped him right there. It really was a shame he wasn’t into women.

  I looked at him, then to the car which I had never seen before. For all the years that I had known Jackson, he didn’t really speak much about what he did for a living, but judging by his clothing and now the large limo-style car he was being chauffeured in, it was apparent he wasn’t doing too badly.

  “Do I have time to get changed?” I asked, feeling slightly grungy after the long day.

  “I’ll drop you off so you can have a quick shower, and then we’ll head out,” he agreed. “I need to shower and get out of this monkey suit, as well.” I stared at the car again, then shrugged and slid onto the backseat. Glancing around, I enjoyed the feel of buttery soft leather upholstery under my butt, and slid my fingers along the surface.

  “You scrub up pretty well, ace,” I told him, grinning as he jumped in beside me. He chuckled, nudging me with his shoulder as I gestured to the expensive suit he wore, along with a really nice navy tie and what looked like Gucci shoes, and he smelled delicious.

  “Ha! This monkey suit was something I had lying around!” he retorted.

  I curled my lip at him in a sneer.

  “Yeah, ’cos Armani is one designer suit everyone has lying around!” I replied, nudging him back.

  It only took about five minutes to drive to our apartment building, and he leapt out as I did, telling the driver he wouldn’t be long before following me into the building.

  A glance at each other had us both grinning, and then our competitiveness kicked in, and like a couple of kids we shot into our apartment, racing to beat the other to get showered, changed, and back out again as soon as possible.

  Of course Jackson won, with me protesting as we got back into the luxurious car that he only won because he knew we were going out, and so he must have cheated and got his clothes ready beforehand. This set off an argument, and we bickered back and forth about sore losers, with him getting in digs about all that ice cream slowing me down, and me telling him that his inner queen was turning him into a clotheshorse as I gestured to the very nice outfit of casual lightweight sweater, button-down blue shirt, and chinos he was now wearing.

  Of course Jackson always looked well presented, with me usually looking like the wrong end of a dog’s dinner after I had finished work. Having to rush through a shower and changing clothes, my hair was left loose to fall down my back, its thick length gleaming like sable in the dim light of the car. My makeup was understated, merely a swipe of mascara and a blush of colour on my lips, as I was too lazy to do much else. I had grabbed the first pair of trousers I could find, and the lightweight palazzo pants flowed around my hips like silk, topped by a loose camisole-style top, over which I threw a silky black jacket which I loved, since it flowed like liquid ink around my frame.

  It took a little while to reach the restaurant, and when the bickering was over, we enjoyed a nice chat about a bunch of stuff. It had always been easy to talk to Jackson, and I enjoyed being with him. If he wasn’t so gay, I could really fall for him. What was I talking about? I had fallen for him years ago.

  I told him as much, which set him off in fits of laughter, before he got a slightly serious look in his eyes. He looked at me intently, and I swear my pussy wept at the flash of what I thought was desire as his brown gaze swept over me. Then that dazzling smile appeared again, and he gave me a kiss full on the mouth, which had me whimpering inside, before whispering how he thought I was quite okay, too, considering I was such an ice cream hog. As I yelped indignantly, he went on to say teasingly how if I let him share that tub of Häagen-Dazs I was hoarding back home, he might even consider keeping me.

  He was still laughing as we arrived at the restaurant.

  The place was one of my favourites, an Indian one located along the curry mile in Manchester. Populated by a large Indian community, the curry mile has literally a street with a mile of Indian restaurants interspersed with shops selling saris and gold jewellery, as well as grocers stocking Indian produce and spices.

  We were seated swiftly, and were halfway through the starter of papadums and dips when Jackson casually asked when my next vacation was due.

  Pausing, since I hadn’t planned anything, but knowing I had substantial leave built up, I told him I’d have to check when I could have time off.

  “My duty managers have already had their holidays, so as long as they can cover, and I get permission, I could go whenever,” I told Jackson.

  “I have tickets to fly to a resort in the Pacific Ocean, near Fiji, if you fancy going,” Jackson told me, responding to my raised eyebrow as I queried why he was asking about holidays.

  “Fiji?” I asked, eyes wide.

  “Not far from Fiji, it’s a fairly new resort, catering to adults only, so no screaming kids running around.

  I grinned at him, knowing his aversion to out-of-control children.

  “Can I think about it?” I asked, not telling him that I was uncomfortable with beach holidays, as I didn’t particularly like stripping off to let all and sundry stare at my saggy bits.

  He gave me a knowing look, aware of my hang-ups about my body. I’d told him about times when boyfriends in the past had made hurtful comments about my slightly heavy thighs and the slight bu
lge of my belly, and I had become more and more self-conscious over the years. Now, if at all possible, I made sure I was covered up since no one liked to see a fatty with her bits wobbling all over.

  “The resort is pretty exclusive. It has its own villas which you have one to yourself, and your own private bit of beach.” He didn’t push the issue, simply diverted the conversation to teasing me about my ice cream cravings.

  Our meal ended, and we drove back home, comfortably quiet on the way back.

  I thanked the driver, a hunky blond male called Max, who appeared in his mid-twenties and was seriously good looking, wishing him a good night, and then we made our way into the apartment building.

  “How long is the holiday? When do I need to let you know by? When do you need the balance by?” Jackson stared at me, big brown eyes sparkling with amusement as I rattled out the three questions as though he was under interrogation.

  “Take a month’s vacation and let me know as soon as you can. You don’t need to pay for anything since I had the tickets anyway,” he replied, grinning at me. Then his expression grew more serious. His hand cupped the side of my face and he moved in closer. His hands drifted down my back as he tugged me closer to his warm body and I couldn’t think straight, the heady aroma of his aftershave mixed with his own manly scent overwhelming my senses.

  “I want to be with you away from all the stresses of work. I like being with you. You’re my favourite girl, and I want the chance to explore some fantasies with you.” His soft lips brushed mine, his tongue sliding along the seam of my slightly parted lips and I sighed, my body sagging weakly against him.

  “You told me to decide.” Jackson’s tongue was soft and moist against my lips and felt divine. “I’ve decided I want to you.”

  “I thought you were gay?” I whispered, confused by the fact my body was suddenly throbbing in earnest. “You kept backing away from me, like you didn’t want to want me.” I could feel his lower torso rubbing against me and his cock was very hard and making my pussy wet and wanting. His mouth opened over mine, his tongue sliding wetly against mine and I moaned at the taste of him, gripping his broad shoulders as I let the delicious sensations of that first steamy kiss overwhelm me. His lips moved slightly away, peppering tiny kisses along my temple, jaw, and the sensitive line of my throat.