Sudden footsteps behind her, then a voice. ‘Can I give you a hand?’ Not foreign after all. She knew who it was before she turned round, because it was such a sexy voice it couldn’t belong to anyone else. And she knew where she wanted the hand.
‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, trying to sound casual, surprised her voice came out more or less normal. She’d been afraid of a pathetic squeak or croak. He strolled up to her then, removing the sunglasses, and she saw that he had dark brown eyes, almost black. His nose was a bit squashed, as if it had once been flattened in a fight and never quite recovered. He looked good enough to eat. He had a smile that made her feel like the only woman in the world.
‘Where are you parked?’ he asked her, taking the carrier bags out of her hands. Their fingers touched as he did so and she felt as though an electric current shot up her arm and down to her stomach.
‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘My husband’s got the car.’ Well, that was not only true but an easy way of letting him know she was married.
‘Then you must let me give you a lift home,’ he said. ‘I’m over there.’ She imagined something glamorous and sporty, but he pointed to an estate car attached to a caravan. ‘I’ve just collected it. I’m taking the family on holiday tomorrow.’
So he was married too. Well, that was all right; better really, it made them more equal. But surely he wasn’t buying all that luxury food and drink for his wife? She said without thinking, ‘God, how lovely, aren’t they lucky?’ because she had badgered her parents for years to take her on a caravan holiday and they never had and the disappointed little girl was still inside her.
‘It’s all we can afford this year,’ he said simply, not apologising, just stating a fact.
‘But it’s what I’ve always wanted,’ she said, thinking he probably wouldn’t believe her, he’d think she was just trying to make a good impression.
‘Come and have a look,’ he said, as if he knew she wanted him.
She followed him, knees shaking, across the car park to the caravan, but all the curtains were drawn.
‘I can’t see in,’ she said stupidly.
‘Then you’ll have to get in, won’t you?’ he said, undressing her with his eyes. Her inside contracted as if he had already entered her and she was trying to squeeze his cock by practising her pelvic floor exercises. She ought to run away; he might be a dangerous maniac. Would anyone hear if she screamed? Instead, when he opened the caravan door, she climbed in.
Instantly they were in another world where everything was scaled down, like children playing house, like Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass. He said, ‘God, I want to fuck you so much,’ and she said, ‘Yes please oh yes please.’ They fell upon each other, kissing as if they wanted to devour one another alive, pausing only when they desperately needed to breathe. His skin had the most wonderful smell and she felt his cock pressing big and hard against her through his tight jeans.
‘Take your clothes off,’ he said. ‘I want to look at you.’
She undressed slowly, watching the desire in his face as he watched her. Outside cars parked or drove away; there were voices and people. She stood naked in front of him, feeling suddenly shy and vulnerable.
‘Now you,’ she said, but instead he came across to her and knelt in front of her as if worshipping her body, burying his face in her pubic hair, finding her clitoris with his tongue and seeking out the magic spot, gently, slowly, quickly, roughly, stopping and starting and pausing to tease her. She sank her fingers into his hair to guide him, even to force him into her rhythm when she wanted to, and he glanced up at her and she stared into the dark, dark eyes and let herself fantasise about unspeakable things that she didn’t approve of in real life until she knew she was going to come and nothing could stop her; it was like falling over the edge of a cliff and she screamed with the joy of it, not caring who heard her, and he stopped just before it began to hurt, knowing the moment, and smiled up at her, before doing it again and again until she was sobbing with exhaustion and each time she thought she couldn’t come again but somehow she did.
‘You taste wonderful,’ he said eventually and stood up to kiss her so that she could taste herself on his lips. And it was true, she did taste wonderful, like some fresh delicacy from the sea.
She tugged at his clothes, ripping buttons from his shirt in her haste, but he had to help her unbuckle his belt while she unzipped his jeans. His whole body was covered with black fur and his cock was the right length for her and wonderfully thick, slightly curved at the end, and circumcised, which she liked. It looked so beautiful, so ready for her. She sucked it and played with it and scratched his balls with her nails, while he moved and moaned with pleasure and caressed her hair, saying, ‘Oh God, that’s good, that’s so good, but I’ve got to come inside you.’
They lay on the caravan carpet and he eased himself into her, a tight fit at first, pleasantly painful, then sliding blissfully because she was so wet from all the sucking and coming. ‘What a lovely cunt,’ he said, making it sound like a term of endearment, his cock striking some unfamiliar glorious place inside her, perhaps the G spot at last that she had read about. Then he drew her legs up on to his shoulders, turning his head from side to side to kiss her ankles, and that was a painful position, but so exciting, letting him go so deep inside her, that she loved the pain and didn’t want it to stop, until he rolled over and pulled her on top of him so that she was riding him and coming in great waves over and over again and crying out while he smiled up at her, playing with her breasts, looking pleased with himself and proud of her.
Eventually she collapsed on top of him, sobbing with pleasure, both of them soaked in sweat, and he kissed her and held her for a while before making her kneel and entering her again, telling her to play with herself and guiding her hand or letting her guide his hand until she hardly knew which hand was which, only that she was coming again, and then he was tugging on her hips and thrusting harder and faster until she thought she might burst and he came with several loud cries and she felt the pulse of his cock deep inside her and his semen flooding her, and she came again with the sheer bliss of feeling it, and then they both collapsed on the carpet and she was crushed by his weight, under her fallen tree at long last.
She had never been so completely satisfied before, floating back from some far off magical place in outer space, and she tried to hang on to him as long as she could, but presently she felt him shrinking and sliding out of her. They rolled round to face each other, smiling with absolute goodwill, totally at peace, like friends, kissing and hugging each other. She wanted to stay like that for ever but eventually they had to wrench themselves apart, sticky as they were, and get back on their unsteady legs, groggy with pleasure; and get dressed. They did not speak or arrange to meet again. It seemed to be perfect as it was. He picked up his shopping and got into his car; she picked up her shopping and walked down the road to her house. She felt renewed, as if the inside of her head as well as her body had been completely rearranged.
Rosie gave her a funny look when she came in but was in a hurry to leave and didn’t ask any questions. The children were mercifully asleep. She stood in the kitchen, dreamily unpacking her shopping, feeling an amazing orgasmic echo reverberating inside her, knowing she should have a bath before her husband came in but not wanting to wash the stranger away. Then it was suddenly too late. She heard her husband’s key in the lock and there he was, strolling into the kitchen with a carrier bag in his hand, from which he took smoked salmon and a lemon, peaches and champagne. ‘I thought you might fancy a little something special before the holiday,’ he said.
‘What a good idea,’ she said, staring at him. ‘Did you know you’ve lost a button off your shirt?’ Then they both started to laugh.
THE BEGINNING
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MICHAEL JOSEPH
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa
Michael Joseph is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published in Great Britain 1990
This collection Copyright © Andrea Newman 1990 and as follows:
Warmth 1973 (first published in Cosmopolitan); Poison 1982 (Woman’s Own); Secrets 1982 (Woman’s Own); Counting the Cost 1984 (Woman’s Own); Finding a Voice 1984 (Woman’s Realm); Fancy Seeing You 1985 (Woman’s Own); A Long Way From Paradise 1985 (Woman’s Realm); Jessica in Love 1986 (Woman); Christmas Magic 1986 (Woman’s Own); The Consolation Prize 1987 (Woman’s Own); Signs of the Times 1988 (Woman’s Own); Casualties 1990; Luke’s Women 1989 (Living); Memento Vitae 1990; Bliss on Wheels 1988 (One to One).
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-405-93440-4
Triangles Page 22
