Uniform Behaviour

by Lucy Felthouse

  At the appointed hour she presented herself at the Captain’s dining room, and was surprised to see Matthew there. He was in dress uniform - smart white trousers, a white jacket with Navy-style epaulettes and gleaming buttons, and a peaked cap bearing the ship’s name on a black ribbon. The severe military style suited his toned figure; he saluted smartly as she entered, and then flashed a grin as he took her arm to present her to the Captain. She grinned back, conscious of the light pressure of his fingers and acutely aware of how very attractive he was.

  At the table she was pleased to be seated between Matthew and the ship’s purser, a jolly fellow who kept her entertained with his traveller’s tales. The food was excellent, four courses served at a leisurely pace with a jazz band playing in the background. All the time she was aware of Matthew sitting beside her, his arm resting on the table beside hers, occasionally touching when one or the other of them reached for some item. While the coffee was being served, however, a waiter came and whispered in Matthew’s ear. He rose immediately.

  “Please excuse me,” he apologised to the table. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He turned and strode from the room without a backward glance.

  Disappointed but conscious that she had no right to be, Judy chatted to the purser for a while, but before long people started standing up and moving to the edges of the room while the waiters cleared the tables. Apparently there was to be dancing.

  She removed herself to a seat by the full-length windows leading out onto the upper deck. The music started up again, louder now, and couples took to the floor; the Captain was partnering an elderly widow, and the banker and his wife who were Judy’s immediate neighbours were doing a passable foxtrot. She had never liked dancing; unwilling to be drawn onto the floor herself, when she spotted the purser trying to catch her eye she rose and slipped out onto the deck.

  Immediately she was cold; the night breeze was chill, and she had not thought to bring a wrap. Nevertheless, she decided she would rather be cold than dance, so she moved a short distance away and leaned on the rail, gazing out into the dark Atlantic night.

  She had been there for maybe five minutes, listening to the waves breaking against the Venus’ prow and feeling the distant thrum of the engines, when a warm coat descended on her shoulders. Surprised, she twisted to see Matthew standing behind her in his shirtsleeves.

  “You looked cold,” he said. “I brought you a drink.” He retrieved two glasses of red wine from the deck and held one out to her.

  She smiled and shrugged her shoulders deeper into the jacket, savouring the lingering warmth of his body. “Thank you. Are you sure you trust me to drink red wine in your white jacket?”

  He grinned. “It’s probably safer on you than it is on me. It certainly looks better on you.”

  “Flatterer.” She chuckled.

  He joined her at the rail and they stood close together, sipping wine and watching the stars and the waves slip by.

  After a while she sighed. “I love the sea. I wanted to go on a cruise for our honeymoon, but Simon hates boats so we went skiing instead.”

  “Simon? Your husband?”

  “Ex-husband. We’ve been divorced for - oh, about a fortnight.” She hunched her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  He frowned. “Did it go badly wrong?”

  “Oh, you know. I was young, naïve and easily impressed; he was rich, arrogant and wanted a trophy wife. He never loved me, not really, but I thought I loved him. I put up with him, anyway, even though he was rude, selfish and unpleasant, and he tried to control everything I did.”

  She ducked her head. “He had other women, whom I pretended I didn’t know about - it’s amazing, the lies you can tell yourself. But the final straw came when I got home early from a shopping trip, to find Simon-” she hesitated, but then ploughed on. “He was naked on our bed, handcuffed to the bedstead with my so-called friend Fiona sitting on his face. She ... they didn’t even stop when I came in. She laughed at me.”

  There was a silence, broken only by the wind and waves and the distant but ever-present throb of the Venus’ massive turbines. After a minute or so she took a sip of wine.

  “I divorced him then. He fought it, said it was me that had been unfaithful, but no one believed him. It was ugly, but I had a good solicitor and I ended up with nearly half of Simon’s estate. It was my solicitor who suggested I take this cruise, actually - he said I’d earned it.”

  She paused again, staring into the ruby dregs of her wine. “Of course, none of Simon’s friends want to know me now, and I dropped all my own friends when I married him. I have no family, so it’s just me, spending his money.” She tried to inject a note of jollity into her tone, without much success.

  He was regarding her, his blue eyes intense. He took a breath as if about to speak, but then swallowed his words. His hand rested very close to hers as it gripped the railing, and suddenly he placed his warm palm over her cold fingers.

  “I wouldn’t have cheated on you,” he said, so softly that for a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Her head jerked up.

  “I - what?” she stammered.

  “I wouldn’t have done that to you. You ... you’re lovely, and he’s a bastard.” He sounded angry as he turned away and gazed out at the ocean.

  She was flustered. “I ... ah, thank you.” She smiled weakly. “Yes, he is. A bastard, I mean.”

  His hand still rested on hers, his fingers curling around her palm and his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. It occurred to her that she ought to remove it, but his touch was so pleasant - more than pleasant - that she let it remain. Her skin tingled where he was stroking it, and she had goosebumps that were not caused by the sea breeze.

  Suddenly he moved, startling her a little. His hand slid up her arm to her shoulder and he turned her to face him. His eyes, sparkling in the reflected light from the party, searched her face, looking for something - she wasn’t sure what. And then, unexpectedly, he took a half step forward, leaned down and kissed her.

  It wasn’t a long kiss, really - just a short contact between his warm soft lips and her chilled ones- but it was enough to send a jolt through her. No one had kissed her with any sort of fondness for years; even in the days when she and Simon had been intimate the kissing was perfunctory and mechanical, more a ritual prelude to his clumsy selfish lovemaking than any real sign of affection or desire. This was very different. In the few seconds that Matthew’s lips rested against hers she inhaled his skin, felt the pressure and gentle movement of his mouth, tasted the sweet-sour wine on his breath as he pulled away from her. She gasped softly, her eyes wide and her entire body tingling with a sudden and overwhelming rush of desire.

  He stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. “I’m ... I’m sorry. I don’t know what ... god, I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink.” His face betrayed a range of emotions - shock at his own presumption, fear that she might report him, horror at what she must think. He was still babbling, trying to apologise, when she stepped forward and put a finger on his lips.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s alright. I think you’re lovely too, and I’d like you to kiss me again, please.”

  His eyebrows rose and he blinked, but then he smiled. “Good,” he said. He gently removed her glass and set it down on the deck beside his own, and then took her face between his hands.

  This time the kiss was longer and more insistent. His mouth moved against hers, and after a moment she felt the tip of his tongue against her lips. She parted them, and then he was exploring the inside of her mouth, teasing her lips and tongue. At the same time he slid one hand around the back of her neck and the other down the side of her body and into the small of her back, pulling her towards him so that the length of her was pressed against him.

  Then she was kissing h
im back, ravenous for the physical contact she had missed for so long. Her arms wound around him, feeling the play of muscles in his back as his arms tensed and shifted, and where their hips were pressed together she felt the unmistakeable stir of his cock.

  After a while she broke the kiss, but only so that she could explore his face and neck with her hands, lips and tongue. He threw his head back and moaned softly as she ran the tip of her tongue down the side of his neck and into the hollow of his shoulder, and then his mouth was back on hers; both were hungrier now.

  He slid his hands under the fabric of his jacket, still hanging around her shoulders, and she shivered as he explored her upper body. Skimming the silk of her dress he cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples, hard and erect as ball bearings under the layers of fabric, while she slid her hands past his hips and around his firm buttocks.

  Then, suddenly, he raised his face from hers. She gasped involuntarily and opened her eyes, to find him gazing at her from a distance of about two inches. He was frowning slightly, although his pupils were dilated with desire and he was breathing fast.

  “What?” she asked, suddenly worried that he’d decided he’d made a terrible mistake.

  He shook his head slightly. “I ... you’re ... I don’t usually do this. In fact, I’ve never - not with a passenger. Please don’t think...”

  Again she hushed him with a finger on his lips. “It’s alright,” she repeated. “I think I need this. It’s been a long time, and - well, I haven’t felt desirable in years. My hus- my ex-husband destroyed that rather. And besides,” she chuckled suddenly, “I’m on holiday.”

  He quirked a half-smile and reached up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear, a fond gesture she could never recall Simon using in all their years together. “Not desirable? Are you kidding? I noticed you the second you got out of your taxi. You’re gorgeous.”

  She smiled and wound her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. “Prove it,” she whispered.

  He laughed softly. “Glad to. But not here. Too close to that lot.” He nodded over her shoulder towards the Captain’s lounge, where conversation and music could be heard drifting out into the night. “Your cabin?”

  She considered. “No. Over there, I think.” She pointed further along the deck to a darkened area under an awning, where loungers were set out for passengers to take the air during the day.

  He looked surprised. “You’re sure? We might be seen.”

  She laughed, leading him by the hand. “Don’t care.”

  She chose the lounger furthest from the lighted windows, turning to face him as they reached it. Twining her arms around him she pressed her body against his, savouring the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton shirt. He ran his hands through her hair and then down her body, tracing her curves under the sheer silk, and then he caught hold of the zip at the back of her dress and pulled it down.

  She shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall on the lounger behind her, and allowed her dress to float to the deck. He caught his breath - as she stood in her filmy underwear, surrounded by ocean and stars with sapphires glinting at her throat and the sea-green silk of her dress flowing around her feet, for a frozen instant she was a goddess risen from the waves.

  Then she was back in his embrace, his mouth exploring her face and neck and their hands running over each other’s bodies. He found the clasp of her bra and released it, and she gasped as he ducked his head and took her right nipple in his mouth. He sucked, teased and rolled it with his tongue, causing her to moan softly, and then transferred his attention to the other side. Then his hands replaced his mouth, stroking and tugging gently at the slippery skin while he returned to kiss her mouth, her eyes, her neck.

  Her fingers were busy at the buttons of his shirt. She slid her hands inside and around his torso, raking his back gently with her nails, and then pushed his shirt off his shoulders and started tugging at his belt. He stepped back, the bulge of his erection obvious through the straining white fabric.

  She released the button on his fly and pulled the zipper downwards, and his cock immediately sprang into her hand. They both gasped as she began to move her hand slowly up and down the length of the shaft, running her thumb over the swollen head and tracing the line of the ridge underneath. The tip was already slippery, and suddenly she wanted desperately to taste him.

  He caught his breath as she sank to her knees, and then groaned as she began to tease the head of his cock with her tongue. She licked him gently, flicking and then lapping in longer strokes, tasting him as he strained towards her. She took the head in her mouth and began to suck, gently first and then harder, moving her lips and fingers slowly up and down the shaft and swirling her tongue over the sensitive skin.

  He groaned again, throwing his head back as intense pleasure flooded his body. She began to stroke and caress his balls, and he twitched in her mouth; she tasted salt as the head of his throbbing cock slid over her tongue. Then his hands were on her head, guiding her upright.

  “Not yet,” he said breathlessly. “I need you, first.”

  He stepped out of his trousers and they sank together onto the lounger, crushing his immaculate white jacket under her hips. She lay back, stretching her arms above her head, and he slid his hands down her body and removed her panties, dropping kisses on her stomach. Then his fingers were between her legs, pushing her thighs gently apart so he could explore the slippery wetness within.

  He found her clitoris, and she shuddered as he traced around it with his fingers. She moaned, her eyes closed as she concentrated on the feelings pulsing through her. Then, abruptly, those feelings intensified as he slipped one, then two fingers from his other hand into her molten warmth.

  Her back arched as he moved both hands simultaneously, teasing and swirling around her clitoris as he moved his fingers in and out of her. The sensations were almost unbearable in their intensity, flooding through her body and causing her to gasp in time with the rhythmic movements of his hands. Then, just when she thought she could take no more, he shifted position so he could taste her.

  Tongue replaced fingers on her clitoris, and she cried aloud. He licked her with long languorous strokes, still moving his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm and occasionally plunging deep inside her with his tongue instead. Wetness gushed from her, and she felt her orgasm approaching.

  Suddenly he moved again, positioning himself above her. She arched her hips upward and took the tip of his cock inside her; he threw back his head and groaned, but then looked down in surprise as she wriggled out from under him.

  “On your back,” she whispered, and he grinned.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He rolled over on the lounger and she straddled him, positioning herself above him and then sinking slowly downwards, taking him inside her an inch at a time. He held her hips and watched her face; her mouth opened in a silent O as she slid down his length, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  When he was fully inside her, straining upwards with her clitoris resting against his pubic bone, she began to rock slowly. Sensations grew in her body, flooding in waves from the feeling of him high inside her and the friction of his skin against her most intimate parts. Then his hips began to twitch, and her movements became faster. Rocking turned to thrusting, twitching became bucking; his cock pounded in and out of her and she rubbed herself against him, urgency building with every rhythmic motion.

  “Matthew, I’m ... ohhh ...” she panted as the sensations began to overwhelm her.

  “I know,” he gasped. “With me ... now ...”

  He grasped her hips and pulled her downwards, grinding her body against him as his cock filled her and then exploded, pulsating and pumping as he came, and came, and came. His orgasm pushed her over the edge, and she cried out as waves of sensation crashed through her. Her hips jumped and her vagina contracted and spasmed, sucking at his throb
bing cock and causing him to shudder and moan as they came together.

  After what seemed an eternity she collapsed on top of him, breathless and perspiring despite the chilly sea wind. He cradled her in his arms, still inside her, and they lay for a time without speaking.

  After a while he moved to retrieve his jacket, now crushed and creased, and place it around her. As she snuggled into it she realised that she didn’t care about the rest of her life - the next two and half weeks were going to be the most fun she had ever had. Smiling, she wriggled further into his embrace and whispered against his chest.

  “I think you’d better start calling me Judy.”

  Also Available from House of Erotica

  On Manoeuvres

  Jack Delaney

  It was just after two in the morning, five nights into the exercise on a cold and wet Salisbury Plain, and Corporal Jack Delaney tried to press his fifteen stones of muscle closer into the ground to get out of the biting wind howling across the hillside. Jack was on sentry, ‘stagging on’ as it was known, and he was supposed to be watching for enemy approaches to his patrol’s ‘harbour area,’ or temporary camp. Jack, however, wasn’t thinking of a possible attack; he’d already been told by the Sergeant leading the ‘enemy’ that no attack was planned for the night. The Sergeant was a female soldier from Jack’s regiment; Sarah was her name, and Jack and she had become very close the previous year.

  The ‘stag point’ was twenty metres in front of the next closest man, and as Jack tried in vain to keep out of the elements and stay awake, he looked at his watch. As he shifted his body to bring his watch close enough to his face to read the time, a torrent of water poured from the branches above his head and managed to find the one part of his body not covered in waterproof camouflaged clothing. Jack somehow managed to stop himself from calling out as the ice cold water poured down the back of his neck, soaking his back.