And I liked the way he used words. Not only was he gorgeous, he had a brain, too, although he probably thought I was a complete imbecile by now.
He smiled. ‘By the way, my name’s Adam.’
‘Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Rachel.’
‘Hi, Rachel.’
We stared at each other, eyes meeting, like two lovestruck strangers in a bad movie. Then he looked at his watch. ‘Well, Rachel, I’d better be off. Hope you collect lots more money for the animals.’
He started to walk away but then stopped and turned, saying, ‘Hey, would you like to join me for a coffee when you have your next break?’
‘I’ve just had my last break,’ I replied.
‘Well, when you finish?’
I hesitated. He seemed genuine, friendly. Then my mind flashed back to Mike and Josh. They seemed genuine, too. And look how that ended up.
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said.
‘Sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
Looking disappointed, Adam reluctantly walked away.
Yvonne, who was watching, came over, frowning.
‘Was he chatting you up?’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose he was. Actually, he asked me out for coffee.’
I expected her disapproval but to my surprise she said, ‘You lucky thing.’
‘I turned him down.’
‘But why? He seemed nice. If he’d asked me, I wouldn’t have hesitated.’
An hour later, we decided to call it a day, by which time I’d collected the grand total of six pounds and thirty- two pence, which Yvonne told me was pretty good, so I felt quite pleased with myself. Even so, I couldn’t help wondering about Adam. Perhaps Yvonne was right. Perhaps I should have said yes.
Still, too late now. I’d lost my chance. I was packing up to leave when a voice I recognised said, ‘Sure you don’t want that coffee?’
I hadn’t expected to see Adam again. ‘My train was cancelled,’ he explained. ‘Have to wait ages for the next one. I was on my way to the station cafe when I noticed you still here and I thought – well, if you weren’t in a hurry…’
I hesitated. Yvonne looked at me encouragingly.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’d like to have that coffee with you.’
‘Great.’ Adam grinned.
We grabbed a seat outside Starbucks and Adam ordered a black coffee for himself and a tall, steaming mocha for me.
‘So, Rachel, what do you do with yourself when you aren’t carrying out charitable acts?’ he asked, giving me a charming, boyish smile.
I dipped my tongue into the hot, bitter liquid, lapping up a layer of creamy froth.
‘I’m a receptionist. In a vet’s surgery,’ I replied.
‘Sounds like you’re a real animal lover,’ he said and there was something about the way he said ‘animal lover’ that gave the words an altogether different meaning.
‘Maybe you’d like to find out?’ I suggested, feeling my face flush. I hadn’t flirted like this for a long while. He sipped his coffee and gave me a long, thoughtful stare. As he leaned back in his seat, his legs brushed against my bare ankles and I felt a tingle as leather met flesh.
‘What about you, Adam? What do you do for a living?’ I asked, waiting for a moment before moving my legs away.
‘I’m an accountant,’ he replied.
‘Yeah, right,’ I grinned.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, genuinely puzzled.
‘Well, you don’t exactly look like an accountant,’ I said, not wanting to appear rude.
‘What is an accountant supposed to look like, then?’
I shrugged. ‘I just never imagined one in leather trousers, I suppose,’ I began, realising how lame that sounded.
‘You have this stereotype image of a guy in a pinstriped suit? Is that it? Someone boring and predictable?’
‘Sorry. Yes. Is that crass?’
‘Very,’ he replied. ‘Never judge by appearances.’ And he leaned across the table and gently mopped my mouth with a napkin, his long slender fingers lingering. ‘You have froth on your lips.’
I blushed. ‘Thanks.’
‘No trouble.’
By the time we finished our drinks, I was acutely aware of the sexual spark between us.
‘I think my train is in,’ I said, glancing up at the indicator board. ‘The 6.47 to Haywards Heath.’
‘Hey, that’s the train I’ll be getting,’ he said. ‘What a lucky coincidence. We can travel together.’
We found two seats at one end of a long compartment. Adam sat opposite me and as the train pulled out of the station he looked at me and said softly, ‘Lift your skirt, Rachel.’
‘What? Are you kidding?’
But there was something about the mesmerising quality of his voice that told me he wasn’t joking. That, combined with those hypnotic dark eyes, strangely melted me. I felt a shudder of excitement. He had an air of authority about him that was kind of hard to resist. But did I want to resist?
Coyly, I hitched back my floral patterned skirt above my bare knees, opening my legs slightly.
‘Higher,’ he said.
I giggled and inched it a little further.
‘You have lovely legs and very pretty ankles,’ he said, leaning forward, resting his hand on my leg, stroking, caressing. Then, before I knew what was happening, he was on his knees at my sandaled feet, kissing my cherry-red painted toenails.
I giggled again. ‘That tickles.’
‘Does this tickle, too?’ Suddenly, his head had disappeared under my skirt and I felt his tongue sliding under the crotch of my lacy blue knickers.
‘Adam,’ I gasped, shocked, ‘someone might see.’
But I didn’t push him away, because my pussy was throbbing to the delicious sensations he was initiating. I’d had fantasies of him doing this to me under the table when we sat in Starbucks. I threw my head against the seat and groaned. There were people sitting at the far end of the carriage, but they wouldn’t be able to see what we were doing. I closed my eyes, allowing wave after wave of pleasure to drown me, half aware that in less than six minutes the train would arrive at Clapham Junction station. What then? The thought of the astonished expressions on the faces of the onlookers as the train pulled in somehow increased the thrill and when I felt his fingers tracing the outline of my pussy lips…God, he was going to make me come.
The sound of the brakes squealing as the train reached the platform mingled with my half-muted cries. When I opened my eyes, Adam was sitting beside me, his lips full and wet. He had smoothed down my skirt and was holding my hand, a dirty grin on his face.
A crowd of people boarded the train and I wondered if they would notice the smell of sex that permeated the compartment. No one sat near us and the train pulled off again.
‘I’m not like this, you know,’ I told him.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t usually let strange blokes bring me off in a public place.’
‘Am I so strange?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Who cares?’ He leaned over, kissing me hard on the mouth and I could taste my juices on his tongue.
‘Would you like to return the compliment?’ he asked.
‘Are all accountants this randy?’ I replied.
‘I warned you not to judge by appearances.’ He grinned. ‘Now, on your knees, wench! We only have ten minutes before East Croydon.’
I giggled again. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun – especially on a train! I unzipped his flies, took his hard cock in my mouth, massaging the tip with my tongue, while squeezing the base with my right hand. Adam moaned softly. I decided to see how loud I could make him cry out. As I increased the pressure of my hand and simultaneously sucked and licked, Adam gripped my shoulders, struggling to keep the noise down, not wanting to draw attention to us. Finally, unable to keep quiet any longer, he pushed me away, even though he hadn’t come yet.
‘Enough!’ he exc
laimed in frustration. ‘I can’t bear it any longer.’
‘I think I won,’ I announced cheekily, as the train drew into East Croydon station.
‘So, you see this is as a competition do you?’ he said. ‘I think I can rise to the challenge.’
‘That is patently obvious,’ I responded smugly, discreetly fondling his erection as the train shuddered to a halt.
‘You’ll eat your words, young woman,’ he joked.
‘I can think of tastier morsels to devour,’ I replied.
The train moved off, and now we had people sitting in the seats immediately behind us. I was sitting opposite Adam, wondering what he would do next in the eighteen minutes before Gatwick Airport station. The train gathered speed, jolting and lurching forwards. The outside world flashed by us in half-light. Giving him a teasing smile, I slipped my knickers off, pushing them into my handbag. I opened my legs wide for a moment, giving him a tantalising glimpse, before shutting them tightly.
‘Come here,’ he whispered, gesturing me to sit on his lap.
I shook my head. ‘Too risky.’
‘Coward,’ he mouthed, smiling triumphantly.
‘Am not,’ I replied, sitting astride him.
He kissed me again, then said, ‘Turn round.’
With my back against his chest, my skirt spread out over my knees, I felt his fingers exploring my wet cunt, spreading me wide and his still-rigid cock slid easily inside as he put his hands around my waist, pulling me downwards until he was so deep inside me I started to wriggle.
‘Now let’s see who’s going to win,’ he whispered into my ear as he jerked me up and down, with short, quick thrusts. I gripped the seat either side of me, my breath leaving me in grunts and sighs. I wanted this to last as long as possible, but knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself coming soon – and neither would Adam. I needed to cry out, but trying to keep silent seemed to magnify the sensations, as if all the pleasure was imploding. I could feel Adam’s breath harsh and rasping against my neck and as the scream I could no longer suppress rose to my lips, I was thankful Adam clamped his hand over my mouth as I came. Seconds later, he buried his face in my hair to muffle his own cries.
As I rolled off and attempted to adjust my clothing on the seat beside him, I noticed the mixture of curious and disapproving stares of some of the passengers as they walked past us to get off at the next station.
‘So, who won?’ asked Adam, still trying to get his breath back.
‘I think it was a draw,’ I sighed.
Thirteen minutes later, when the train drew into Haywards Heath station, Adam said, ‘I have a confession to make.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked nervously, waiting for him to spoil it all, and tell me he was married.
‘Actually, my stop isn’t Haywards Heath.’
‘Where is it then?’
‘East Croydon.’
‘I think you missed your stop,’ I told him.
‘Yes. I must have got distracted, somehow.’
‘Well, I suppose we could always go for a drink somewhere, until you can get a train back to Croydon,’ I suggested, as we walked along the platform.
‘Where were you thinking of?’ wondered Adam.
I considered this for a moment. Well, they do say that charity begins at home. ‘My place?’
Amour Noir
by Landon Dixon
I stood in the rain, looking at the sign in the window, ‘Man Wanted’.
When I shoved the door of the diner open, I was blown inside by a wet gust of wind. The door sucked closed behind me, and I gave the joint the once-over: red vinyl-cracked stools fronting a white counter, red vinyl booths with white Formica tables along the wall, black and white tiles on the floor. The place was lit too bright and reeked of grease and urinal pucks, completely deserted except for a small, oily character dressed in white perched on a stool next to the cash register, reading a paperback.
A real Sioux City hot spot.
But it was way past midnight, and I was way past hungry. There were still eighty-five miles to go before I reached Sioux Falls and the Tri-State County Managers convention.
‘Sure coming down out there,’ I said amiably, slipping off my raincoat and tossing it over the back of a booth bench, sliding in opposite.
The little guy squatting by the register lifted a pair of liquid brown eyes and looked at me. His dark, shiny hair was parted down the middle, a brown, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. The nametag on his chest read ‘Sinjin’. He blinked his long lashes a couple of times and then bowed his head back down to his book, ‘You Play the Black and the Red Comes Up’.
I plucked a stained menu out of the rack on the table and opened it up, hoping the food was better than the service. Then the service got better - way better.
A red, plastic catsup container rolled across the floor, bumped against my foot. I looked up, and there she stood, in the swinging door to the kitchen – a cool, tanned blonde in a blazing white skirt and blouse, slender arms and legs gleaming bare, honey-blonde hair cut shoulder-length, wavy and glossy. Her eyes were blue, and they sparkled, her high breasts bobbing as she walked my way. The whole package dazzled these sore eyes.
‘See anything you like?’ she double-entendred, bumping up against my table. The nametag on her chest read ‘Chrissie’.
‘Weeell,’ I said, getting in on the game. ‘Matter-of-fact, my appetite’s really picked up.’
Her moist lips curved into a smile. ‘A hungry man’s good to find,’ she cooed, tossing a disdainful look over her shoulder at Sinjin. The guy had his foreign-made coffin nail lit now, was puffing up a storm.
‘Food’s pretty cheap here, too, eh?’ I said, glancing down at the menu. ‘I hope it tastes–’
‘You won’t find anything cheap around here!’ Chrissie retorted, eyes flashing.
I couldn’t come up with any other pithy come-ons, so I ordered the hamburger steak platter and a cherry Coke. It came and went, lying heavy in the pit of my stomach as the blonde dish pushed out her chest and asked, ‘Dessert?’
‘Something sweet and sticky?’ I suggested.
‘Pie?’ she responded, wagging a smooth, brown leg back and forth, toeing the tile.
‘Sure, what kind of pie do you have, Chrissie?’
‘Cora.’
I looked up her leg, to her chest. ‘Cora?’
‘That’s the ticket, Frank,’ she giggled, all sweet and sticky.
I didn’t know what kind of a game we were playing now. My name isn’t Frank, and hers wasn’t Cora. But I let it ride. ‘Uh, the kinds of pie?’ I reminded her.
She hooked a red-tipped finger into her crimson lower lip, blue eyes twinkling. ‘Hmmm, I can’t quite seem to remember. They’re all in the kitchen – come and see for yourself.’
The place was empty now. Sinjin had skulked off five minutes earlier, the joint going up a full star with his exit. The only sounds were the night rain washing against the steamed-up windows, the wind rushing down the empty ribbon of wet asphalt outside. And the thumping in my chest.
I climbed to my feet.
‘Cora’ led the way, round hips swishing, mounded buttocks sluicing, lithe legs whispering, through the swinging door and into a cramped, confused kitchen. She halted the parade in front of a flour-strewn counter and turned to face me. Slender fingers brushed across her soft throat, toyed with the top button on her blouse.
‘Where’s the pie?’ I asked, looking around. I do like my pie.
‘You’re a drifter, aren’t you?’ Cora breathed. She fluttered her eyelashes, unbuttoned her buttons. ‘A stranger in town.’
‘Uh, actually, I’m heading for–’
‘Don’t talk, Frank,’ she cut in, pressing a finger to my lips. ‘You rang twice, and I’m here. That’s all that’s important.’
The woman’s eyes were elsewhere. And so were mine, because she had her blouse open now, revealing a white, satiny bra that packaged her pair of cupcakes beautifully – up and out
. I licked my lips, the babe’s sweet perfume flooding my good senses. I didn’t understand any of her role-playing rigmarole, and I didn’t care.
She ensnared me in her arms, kissing me, her breasts pushing warm and insistent into my chest, soft, wet lips sucking the breath out of me. I grabbed her and hungrily kissed back, grinding my swelling cock into her warm belly. She moaned, running her fingers through my black locks, then clutching at my hair, really digging her hooks into me.
‘I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Frank,’ she murmured.
She was off in a world of her own, but the reality of her heaving chest was very near and dear to me. I grasped her breasts, squeezing the pert nubbins, forcing groans of pleasure from her lips. Then she popped her bra open at the back and I went skin-on-skin with her bikini-pale tits, kneading the smooth, heated flesh, pinching her pink nipples.
‘Suck my breasts, Frank!’ she implored.
I bent my head down and flicked a nipple with my tongue, watching in amazement as it instantly grew in size and rigidity. Cora’s body quivered in my hands. I lapped at the undersides of her rubbery nipples, swirled my tongue around and around their pebbly aureoles.
Cora squirmed in my arms, then dropped right out of them, down to her knees on the floor. She quickly unbuckled and unzipped me, dragged my swollen cock out of the tangle of my underwear and out into the steamy open. We both watched it grow rock-hard, her hand pulsing its heartbeat.
I flooded with heat, trembling. She smiled up at me, then sent her silky hand sailing up and down the throbbing length of my prick, sending shivers of delight radiating all through me. She stroked and stroked my cock, raw and hot and honest before finally squeezing the pulsating shaft and sticking out her pink tongue and swabbing the tip of my straining dick with the tip of her tongue. I flat-out vibrated with the wet, erotic impact.
Then I smelled smoke. I twisted my head around – there were puffs of white, acrid smoke billowing through the crack in a black curtain that marked off the entrance to some sort of storage room. I’d smelt that smoke before, scared now there was going to be fire.
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