Taking Sex Toys to Amsterdam

by Larissa Vine

  She caught him flushing the toilet.

  He turned and grinned at her. "Hey, you."

  Freya smiled back at him. “Hey to you too.” God, that had sounded sappy.

  Embarrassed she looked away from him and glanced at herself in the gilded mirror above the basin. The light was dim from the dusty bulbs. It was soft and flattering. Her hair was tousled and her skin glowed. Her eyes had a wild glittering look. They were so wild that she barely recognized herself. She looked so … brazen. But a brazen woman would have let Jake do so much more to her and wouldn't have chickened out after the love balls.

  He stepped behind her up to the mirror. The reflection showed a beautiful couple.

  "Was that okay?" she asked. "It wasn't too boring?"

  His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. "Boring? You're kidding. That was off-the-chain hot. You came, didn't you? I felt you."

  After the love balls, it was the second best orgasm that Freya had ever had.

  "Yeah, I came." She tried to act nonchalant. "Sorry about the toys."

  Jake's eyes were so soft that they were like liquid pools.

  "You didn't try things like that with your boyfriend?" he asked.

  "My ex-boyfriend. No. And we just broke up."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. He never—you know, satisfied me." Freya blushed.

  She looked away from the mirror and studied her hands. She'd never spoken to anyone about her sex life before. She'd always considered it private. But telling Jake didn't count, she decided. She was only going to see him until the end of the night.

  "Simon, my ex," she said, "he was the only guy that I'd ever slept with. I don't know if I was ever attracted to him, not really. But he kept turning up at the library with flowers until it became so embarrassing that I agreed to go out with him. I always guessed that sex could be better. It always is in the movies. Oh, and in all of the books that I've read. But well, I just settled for what I had."

  "You're gorgeous," Jake said. "You don't need to settle for second best."

  Freya flushed. "Sometimes second best is easier."

  "Never settle for second best again. Do you hear me, Freya?"

  She was surprised by the insistency in his voice.

  Her stomach growled.

  He grinned. The moment of tension was broken.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  "Mmm, starving. I guess I can't live on gin alone. Although clearly Madame Meijer can."

  He laughed. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

  ****

  They left the room and crept down the corridor. Freya was expecting to encounter Madame Meijer again. But when they got to the reception desk, it was empty. A sheet had been draped over Rembrandt's cage.

  "It's a good thing that she wasn't there," Freya said to Jake, as they stepped out into the night. "She would probably have tried to sell us a discounted boat trip or something. Not that a boat ride would have been so bad. We could have gone together and—"

  "I'm leaving tomorrow."

  Freya felt a stabbing sensation in the pit of her belly. It's just hunger she told herself quickly.

  Jake took her hand and led her through an alleyway and onto a street, which ran parallel with the canal. Rowing boats were moored along the banks. The bridges were lit with lights that cast magical reflections onto the inky water. Everything was silent and empty.

  Freya shivered as they picked their way over the cobbles.

  "Are you cold?" Jake asked.

  She nodded, flattered that he'd noticed her shiver.

  He took off his jacket draped it around her shoulders. It smelt of him—a combination of sweat from dancing and the musk from his aftershave. The scent was intoxicatingly male.

  They kept on walking. Freya's legs were now tired but she didn't care. She wished that the night would never end and that they could keep walking forever.

  They came to a tiny cafe. Jake held open the door and she ducked inside. Everything was infused with the smell of baking bread. They sat at a rickety table that overlooked the canal.

  Jake picked up a handwritten menu from the table. "The goat cheese omelettes are good. They come with a compote of stewed berries."

  Freya glanced around the cafe. They were the only customers in the place.

  "I'm surprised you found somewhere open at this time of night," she said. "You seem to know Amsterdam well."

  "I know it pretty well,” Jake said. “I fly here to have fun sometimes."

  Freya stiffened. "What type of fun?"

  Jake laughed. "Don't look so disapproving. I just go to the bars. That's all. My job's so stressful that I have to unwind somehow."

  "What do you do?"

  "I'm a Hedge Fund manager. I'm afraid I've sold my soul to the City."

  "What. No way." Freya's words came out in a rush of excitement. "I live in London too. I work in the library in Camden."

  Fantasies flew into her head. Of her and Jake standing at the top of the Gherkin at night-time with London stretching out below them in a sheet of glittering lights. Of them rollerblading hand in hand around the Serpentine like a celebrity couple.

  "I don't live in London," Jake said.

  "—Oh."

  "My company moved me to Frankfurt when England left the EU."

  Hot tears pricked Freya's eyes. She dropped her gaze and blinked them back into her eyeballs. She was being ridiculous. She could never have Jake. He was only hers until the end of the night.

  She glanced out of the window. Things were changing. The darkness was draining out of the sky. She could see the outline of the canal more clearly than she had five minutes ago. The night was nearly over, she realized in panic. She turned her attention back to Jake, as he studied the menu.

  "About the vibrator," she said.

  The menu dropped from his hands and fell onto the table. His gaze snapped to her face.

  "Yes?” he said. “What about it? Surely, you must know how it works."

  Freya took a breath.

  "Yes,” she said. “But you could show me how to use it on you."

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hmm. What shall we play with?” Jake asked.

  They were back at Das Vogel and he was peering into Freya's suitcase. He seemed to be speaking to himself more than to her.

  Freya sat naked on the bed. Once they'd got back from the cafe, they'd practically ripped off each other’s clothes. It was as if Jake, like her, was aware that the night was ending.

  She watched him reach into the case and pull out the ruler. Her shoulders tightened. The ruler? She'd thought that they were going to play with the vibrator. Was it going to hurt? She reminded herself that this had been her idea.

  Jake came back to the bed holding the ruler.

  “Ssh. It's okay,” he said. He must have seen her stricken face. “It won't hurt. It'll just sting a little. It will make your skin more sensitive. And remember,” he continued. “We can stop at any time.”

  He caught her gaze. “Right?”

  She bit her lip then nodded.

  “First,” he said. “I want you to lie face down.”

  Freya did what she was told and she flipped over on the mattress and sunk her face into the pillow. Her breath was jerky. She'd never felt so naked before. Or so vulnerable.

  She felt Jake lean over her. He lifted up her hair from her shoulders. Then he nuzzled the back of her neck with his lips. She felt the dig of his teeth. Her pulse quickened. The message was clear. He was reminding her who was the boss.

  She moaned and raised her hips. Something soft skittered over her pussy. Freya made a mming sound and lifted her hips higher. What was it? Oh, now she knew. It was the tassel from the ruler. She loved how Jake was teasing her.

  Twack. The whack came out of nowhere. Freya flinched as a line of fire burned across her butt cheek.

  It wasn't bad. It was more a tingling sensation like Jake had promised. She heard his breath over her grow harsher.

  He put his
hand on her butt and caressed it, making it better.

  The hand went.

  Whack. He hit her again.

  Again, he fondled her ass, making it better.

  Whack. She knew the drill and she waited for the caress. Sure enough it came.

  There was fire everywhere. Even in places that he hadn't touched. Fire in skin. On her pussy. It was as if the world had narrowed to two things. Jack's smoothing hand and the movement of the ruler.

  “Get onto all fours,” Jake said.

  Groggily, Freya clambered up to her knees and leaned onto her hands. She felt Jake part the cheeks of her ass. Then he spat onto her slit.

  "Just to lube you up," he murmured. "Not that you need it. I've never seen a pussy so wet. I'm going to fuck you so raw that you won't be able to sit down afterward. I'm going to show you how a real man fucks. Do you want it? Say it, baby."

  "I do," Freya groaned.

  "No, say it."

  "I want you."

  "What's that? I didn't quite catch that."

  "I want you."

  Jake gave a gravelly laugh. "Oh, you're going to get it all right."

  Cream slid down the inside of Freya's thighs.

  Jake thrust his dick into her, so hard and deep that she cried out.

  "Again?" he asked.

  "Yeah, ruin my pussy."

  Wow, she thought. Had she really said that? It had felt so hot. She imagined screaming it across the library. People would turn from shelves. Heads would bob up from books.

  Jake began to fuck her hard, moving in and out of her like a jack hammer. Thud, thud, thud. Freya heard the thud of his balls against her. It was harder than she'd ever been fucked in her life. He had so much stamina. Sweat beaded her forehead. She felt the rub of the sheet against her knees. She gripped the mattress to stop him pushing her forward. Her knuckles were white from the force.

  Suddenly, she heard a buzzing sound. He must have got the vibrator the same time that he'd fetched the love balls. It held it to her clit. She bucked and made a whinnying sound. Her pussy rippled around his cock. Jake was groaning too, making animal sounds. It was too much all at once. The pumping. The crazy feeling on her clit.

  The planets. The galaxies. Everything was colliding. Freya cried out as the orgasm shuddered through her.

  Jake started to grind her even faster. He gave one final thrust, groaned, then stiffened inside her. She imagined the spunk pumping into her body, filling her.

  For a second, he lay on top of her motionless. Then he rolled off of her and pulled the sheet over them. The cotton sheet felt so cool against her hot skin.

  “Fuck that was good,” he groaned.

  "What time's your flight?" she asked although she was almost too scared to ask.

  "I can stay for another five minutes," Jake said. "Look," he continued. "Why don't you come to Frankfurt to visit me? I've got a penthouse suite. The views of the city are unbelievable. Oh, and the cafe below me. It's run by Antonio. He's second generation Italian. He serves the best espressos. You'd love it.”

  "I bet you say that to all of your hook ups."

  "No."

  "Yeah, right."

  "Don't laugh it off. I'm serious. This is different." His eyes ate up her face. "We have a connection.”

  Freya smiled. “Well, we definitely connected all right.”

  Jake looked hurt.

  He took a strand of her hair and coiled it around and around his finger. It was like he was still getting their bodies to combine.

  Freya glanced out of the window. She'd been in such a state the previous night that she'd forgotten to close the curtains. The hazy dreamscape of dawn had gone. Light blasted through the glass. It was unrelentingly bright. She could see it bleaching the carpet.

  This was it. Their last few minutes together. She breathed in his smell and tried to hold it in her nose. She wanted to remember how he smelt forever. She tried to memorize the feel of his skin against hers.

  He climbed out of bed. She propped herself up against the pillow and watched him pull on his clothes. He took out his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. For one horrible second, she thought that he was going to pay her. Instead he handed her his business card.

  "Text me," he said.

  Freya laughed. But her laugh had a break in it. "Yeah, of course. I won't be a stranger."

  Jake's eyebrows leaped together. "Stop it. This isn't the end of it. I mean it. This is the start of something special."

  He leaned over the bed and kissed her softly on the lips. Then he planted a kiss on the base of her throat. After one final tender look, he turned and walked out of the bedroom. He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

  She lay in the bed. The scent of sex rose up from the sheet. Its feral animal smell filled the boudoir of the room. She felt like a Dutch mistress from long ago. She'd just had deliciously naughty sex with a man who would never belong to her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Freya was on a high all of that day as she drifted around Amsterdam. She barely took in the pavilion in Vondelpark or the monuments in Dam Square. Her head was filled with thoughts about Jake. She thought about the wall of muscles on his back and the line of hair that stretched from his belly button down to his naval.

  What they'd done. It had been so hot. Her eyes had actually rolled back into her head. She'd begged him to ruin her pussy. She'd actually said those words. Aloud. And she had meant them.

  ****

  It was only on the flight home that she started to come down from her high. She began to feel like crap. Now she understood why people didn't have one night stands. Because they felt cheap and used afterward. And she'd been naive to think that she'd be different. How silly to imagine that she could handle it.

  This isn't the end of it. This is the start of something special. Jake's words rang through her brain as she sat cramped on the plane, which smelled of sandwiches and feet. The start of something special, ha. She bet that he said that to all of his fuck buddies.

  And now she was going to have to deal with her split from Simon. God, what a mess. She guessed that she'd have to move her stuff out of their flat while he was at work. Hopefully, she could stay at Kat's place until she found somewhere to rent. But what could she afford on a librarian's salary? Probably a room in a shared house of strangers.

  ****

  She was still stewing about the breakup when the plane landed. She filed through Immigration. Then she walked through the nothing to declare section of customs with her head held high. She'd learned her lesson from the previous flight. Before she'd left Amsterdam, she'd dumped all of the sex toys into a garbage bin outside Das Vogel.

  She walked into the concourse through the teaming people. Heathrow seemed even busier than when she'd left if that was possible.

  "Freya." Someone called her name.

  Freya's heart leaped. Jake? Her heart dropped again. It was Simon.

  He pushed his way toward her through the crowds holding a bunch of carnations, which he'd probably bought at the airport shop. He came up to her, smiling. He wore the gingham tie that she'd always hated and had a ketchup stain down his shirt.

  He looked older than she'd remembered. Hollows scored his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't slept since she'd finished with him. He looked so heartbroken that she felt guilty.

  "Pumpkin." He held the bouquet out to her,

  The cellophane was so think that Freya had to squint through it to see the flowers.

  "Here," he said. "Let me take your case."

  She stared at him. "It's over. I told you."

  Simon's eyes bulged.

  “I didn't think you meant it,” he whispered. “I thought you were just angry.”

  A pallor washed over his face. He seemed to shrink into himself. He looked so devastated that Freya felt terrible.

  There was a pause. Then he reached out and squeezed her arm.

  "Look," he said, "you're probably just tired from the flight. You don't have to worry about this now. I'll
stay at my mum's place tonight, so that you can have time alone to think. Then I'll skip work early tomorrow and meet you after your shift. We can talk about things over a nice meal."

  Freya raised her eyebrows. Wow, she had unnerved him. He never skipped work early and he hardly ever took her out for decent meals.

  "I don't think—" she began

  "Tomorrow, Pumpkin," Simon cut in.

  Freya suppressed a sigh.

  ****

  They took the Tube back together, sitting side by side on the plastic seats. Freya watched Simon's profile go dark as the train went into the tunnel then light up again. She stared at the soft area under his chin. In ten years’ time, he'd have wattles. The corners of his eyes were starting to turn down. No doubt from frowning over computers.

  He didn't ask her about her trip and she didn't ask him about his work. Instead they talked about the Wimbledon scores and the weather. It was all so English, so frightfully respectable.

  The train went around a curve and flung Freya across her seat. She felt her weight shift onto the bruise on her left bum cheek. She flinched.

  Simon stared at her. "Are you okay?"

  "Of course I am," she said quickly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It rained overnight. It was still raining when Freya went to work the next morning. She left the Tube and trudged along the pavement toward the library, dodging broken bottles and soggy dog poop. Commuters hurried past her hunched under umbrellas. Cars splashed dirty water at her from the puddles in the road.

  This was it. This was her future. She knew how it would pan out. She'd already run the video footage of the next ten years of her life. She would still be with Simon in the same apartment. And he would still be rubbing his calloused foot up and down her leg in a prelude to them having sex.

  Maybe they'd have children, little Simons with pudding faces and ketchup stains down their clothes, who she'd have to look after twenty-four seven. Because nothing would have changed. Simon would still be continually working.

  But he was hers, wasn't he? She thought as she continued to walk. He still wanted her. She'd never be wanted by someone like Jake, well not forever. She had no right to dare to dream.