Vera's Itch
by G. M. Worboys
Published by G. M. Worboys
Website: gmworboys.com
First published July-2015
Copyright © 2015 G. M. Worboys
G. M. Worboys has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.
This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes
provided that the book remains in its complete original form.
Vera's Itch
Nice arse.
That was the first thing that caught Gavin's attention as he studied the figure at the bar with an educated eye. Shapely legs and a good body, slender without being anorectic, and that left a chance she'd have a nice rack when she turned around. The chic evening dress definitely stood out in this place, it looked new but of an old style, very old. It was strange but it suited her. The shiny, slippery material moved over her skin in a way that was very sexy. Thick dark hair hung to just below her shoulders. Very nice arse.
But the question was: would she be a disappointment when she turned around? So far he hadn't seen her face. He hadn't seen her arrive, which was a pity, he thought she would be nice to watch move. None of the bar flies were bothering her yet, that wasn't a good sign, but perhaps they thought she was out of their class – and they'd be right.
Gavin turned back to his beer and took a long drink, his first of the evening. It was barely dark outside yet, which made the evening dress on the woman all the more unexpected. He wondered if it was worth giving her a tug. She had to be waiting for someone, no lady of her class came into a bar like this one without company. Then again, Sophie was out of town so if he got lucky he wouldn't have to rush away. It could be worth a try.
Someone was standing near him. His eyes were already looking down, so they swung to the floor. Elegant shoes, they matched the dress. She was standing only a few feet away. Pleasing, rounded calves, the dress hid her knees. The material of the dress clung to her skin and offered an enticing hint at the what lay between her hips. Her stomach wasn't the flat hard surface of a model, but the gentle roundness of a real woman. And breasts proudly pushed out at the plunging neckline. “Oh yes, thank you God,” Gavin murmured under his breath. When he finally reached her face he was already expecting the perfection that lay there. It occurred to Gavin that he could be dreaming, reality was rarely this good.
The most surprising thing was that she was smiling at him.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked.
Even her voice was perfect, the sultry disdain of an actress from one of the movies that Gavin liked to watch. “Oh yes,” he replied.
She swung herself smoothly into the seat across from him. “Then maybe you would buy a lady a drink?”
“Sure thing. What would you like?”
She leaned forward. Gavin liked that.
“What do you suggest?” she asked.
Gavin pulled his eyes back up. She was still smiling. “Somewhere better and I'd suggest a martini, but in this place I think a G and T is a safer bet, they can't screw that up.”
She nodded.
Gavin went to the bar and ordered. The barman was quick for a change and Gavin turned back. She was still there. Her legs had swung out from the booth and crossed. She was smoking. The night just got better and better.
He strode back and slid into his seat. Her fingers touched his as she took the drink. He watched as she took a sip. Nice lips. He couldn't make out her eye colour in the dim lighting.
“That dress is like something out of a fifties movie,” Gavin said, and then added quickly, “One of the good ones, you know, classy.”
She smiled.
“I got a thing for the fifties,” Gavin continued. It wasn't something he talked about with the guys, they'd think he was strange, but he loved old fifties stuff, especially movies and the better class of music from those times. “Not the cheap kitsch they sell these days,” he explained, in case she got the wrong idea. “The good stuff.” He was not yet ready to admit that she might be out of his class too.
She asked about his favourite movies from that time, so he launched into his love of Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne and Cary Grant. He stayed clear of the actresses, it seemed safer. He didn't want to get carried away. She smiled at some of his references.
He looked down and saw that her glass was empty. “Want another?”
“Would you see a lady home?” she asked him.
Gavin gaped for a moment. In the back of his mind he'd been wondering how to work around to whose place they might go back to, but it was still very early, it seemed too quick. But if the woman was in a hurry then he wasn't going to argue. “A lady shouldn't go home alone,” he told her, feeling clever and smug.
They stepped outside and there was a cab right there in front of them. Its light flickered on as it prepared to pull back into the traffic. Gavin called out and the driver waited for them. Gavin couldn't help grinning. It was all going so smoothly, it was like he'd planned it this way.
The address she gave the cab driver was in an affluent area of town, he'd been right about her being classy. Gavin tried to sit up close to her in the cab, but she nodded meaningfully toward the driver. Not into public displays, Gavin thought, and backed off. The warmth from their brief contact continued to burn into his thigh and arm.
When the cab stopped, Gavin got out and assisted her from the car.
“Coffee?” she asked before Gavin could open his mouth.
A strange time of night to be settling in for coffee, most people weren't even on their way out yet, but Gavin nodded, and then he leaned in to pay the driver.
“If ya not gunna be long, I cud wait,” the cab driver said.
It was an unusual offer, but Gavin wasn't paying attention. “No thanks.”
“Gunna strike lucky?”
“I think I already have.”
“Dun wanna count ya chickens,” the driver warned.
“Thanks for the advice, but I think this one's hatched already.”
The driver shook his head but accepted the money and turned away.
Gavin saw that the woman was holding the door open, waiting for him. She was looking even better now than when he first saw her. The apartment building seemed to be built for someone just like her, elegant and stylish, and probably something like the era of her dress.
The inside reflected the graceful lines of the exterior. It was clean and sparse with the faint odour of wood polish. There was an alcove to one side where once there would have been a doorman, now replaced by the impersonal electronics of a modern security system.
A small lift carried them to the top floor. Gavin tried to kiss her, but she pushed him back firmly. “Not yet,” she told him, but she smiled.
The lift stopped and the doors opened, and she pulled him gently out by his hand. There were only four apartments up here. He followed her to the nearest.
Gavin waited for her to close the door behind them and then he moved in and pushed her against the wall. He ran his hands over the silky smoothness of her dress as their lips touched, parted briefly, and then touched again. His pulse was quickening and he was already breathing harder in anticipation of what was to come.
She pushed him back and their kiss broke. She placed her fingers on his lips to stop his question. “I need to freshen up,” she said quietly. She took his hand and led him further into the apartment.
The size of the place was extravagant even for this part of the city. Like the building and the woman's dress, the furniture was all period stuff, nineteen-fifties or very expensive replicas.
“I won't be long,” she told him. “Make yourself at home. Take a look aroun
d if you like, I don't mind. The drinks cabinet is over there. Make mine a martini.”
She smiled, kissed him briefly and then left him. He watched as she walked across the room. He was right, she did move well. She gave him a last brief smile and then the door to the bathroom closed with a click.
Gavin went to the large glass doors and stepped briefly out onto the balcony. A nice view of the city, this was definitely a premium property. The cooler air helped to revive him, and to convince him this wasn't a dream. Not that he hadn't done this sort of thing before, but it had never gone so smoothly. Not a step wrong, not a thing out of place, and the woman and the apartment were perfect. He turned back and looked over the room from the balcony door. It really was. It was everything he could imagine as ideal. He frowned briefly at that thought, and then the drinks cabinet caught his eye. He went to it and ran his hand over the varnished wood, this was seriously good stuff.
He could hear the shower running, she was going all out to be fresh for him. He did his best to make a good martini, and then poured himself a whiskey from a bottle of single-malt. He could get to like it here.
He sipped at his whiskey and considered that. What were the chances that this woman could get serious, that she might invite him to live here? Life with Sophie was good, a warm bed most nights, when she wasn't away with work, and a nice flat that she worked hard to maintain. Gavin was virtually a kept man, his own work was intermittent and didn't pay well. But life with Sophie wasn't in this league. This would be living.
He crossed to another cabinet and opened the doors. They hid
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