Jane had no doubts about how to behave. She swept into the room behind the usher and allowed a waiter to slide a chair under her without acknowledging his presence. She looked so regal, Tim ordered champagne to toast his companion.
A waiter scuttled out with the ice-bucket and twisted out the cork with a soft pop. Jane's eyes sparkled as the golden foam splashed into their glasses. Tim raised his glass. “Here's to the Queen of the Java Sea!” She giggled and raised her glass to clink against his.
There are times in a man's life, brief moments for the most part, when the tide of happiness flows without a ripple and the troubles of the world refuse to intrude. Later, when he looked back, Tim realised that meal in its simple perfection was one of those rare moments. Even the little old Chinese waiter in his starched white coat seemed to catch the atmosphere and stood nodding happily as they raised their glasses to each other. The meal passed timelessly.
Afterwards, outside on the street, Tim was uncertain how to end the evening. Jane, the beautiful woman stood beside him, but in reality she was a billy-boy. She sensed the doubt in him and over-rode it by waving for a taxi.
“We go to your house and I give you a massage,” she said firmly. In the rattling car with its frayed seats and square wheels, she held his hand on her lap but said nothing. They arrived home too quickly for Tim to collect his racing thoughts.
He paused at the gate. “Come in and have a coffee with me.”
“OK. A coffee. And after I give you a massage.”
“No. No massage.”
She laughed at him. “Don't worry, Mr Tim. Just a massage for my friend, if you like. No sex, just massage.”
In his room she took command immediately. “I go shower, Mr Tim. You wait for me.” She opened her handbag and drew out a compact album of photographs. “Pictures of me. When I go in Singapore, but some here also. You will like them.” And she closed the bathroom door behind her.
Tim sat down and opened the album. As she had said, it was full of pictures of her. Glamorous photos of her modelling cocktail dresses; photos on the beach wearing tiny bikinis; at restaurant tables posing with fat Australian couples. And then the more intimate ones; lying face down on a bed, nude; leaning against a bar wearing shoes and feathers in her hair, with only a silver g-string in between; draped naked over an armchair with a coy hand concealing her secret. She was beautiful and Tim felt his blood race.
She stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a hand towel wrapped around her waist, and carrying her dress over her arm. She looked even better than her photographs. “You go now,” she said as she started to hang her dress in his wardrobe.
When Tim returned, wearing only a towel and feeling embarrassed, she lay stretched out on his bed with her hands behind her head. She jumped up and reached out both hands to him. She drew him close and for a moment they stood in silence. She was waiting for him. He could feel a rubbery button brushing his arm and he looked down at her breasts. Beautiful. Rounded, firm, long nipples set on tight rippled circles coloured nearly black.
“Lie down, Mr Tim. I give you massage.”
But Tim had lost interest in a massage. He threw off his towel and took her in his arms. She felt delicate, slim and exciting, and the satin curtain of long hair brushed over his forearm. He pulled her to him, and kissed her. She gave herself to him, hungry and open, pressing against him.
Holding her at arms’ length, Tim sat on the bed. “Take your towel off, Jane.” He watched as she threw her towel onto the bed. She wore black lacy panties, very modern, very narrow at the front. Nothing much could be hidden there. The sides swept right up over her hips, making her legs look even longer. When she saw she had his attention, she lifted her arms over her head and did a slow pirouette. There was very little to the panties. A lace band across the small of her back and a small lacy ribbon dipping down between the cheeks of her bottom. She looked entrancing. “You like me, Mr Tim?”
“Of course. You're beautiful. Your figure's fantastic.”
She pushed him back towards the bed, and came to kneel between his knees. “Oh yes,” she said with delight and seized his cock with both hands. She raised it to her lips and held a kiss on its tip, just as she had done offshore. She was looking at his face, wanting to see his expression as she sucked him in.
Tim did not let her. Tonight he wanted more. He pulled her up to lie beside him and kissed her again. His free hand drifted from her breast to her panties, and he felt her stiffen. She tried to stop him.
“Yes,” he ordered, and she brought her hand back to his shoulder. She watched his face as he pushed the panties down, and raised her hips to help him.
The flimsy panties slid slowly down, revealing a small patch of black curls, neatly trimmed. For a moment he thought she had had the operation, then, as the lacy garment reached her thighs, a penis sprang into view. Unwanted, it had been held in forced confinement between her legs. As he watched, it reasserted itself and uncoiled rapidly. It stood up and, fully extended, fell back onto her belly. Without taking his eyes from it, he pulled the panties down and off her feet.
Her cock too was perfect. It was circumcised, straight and delicate, and reached halfway up to her navel. Fascinated, he slipped his fingers under her stem and let it rest on his hand. It twitched as he held it. Still holding it, he moved to kneel between her legs, her open thighs over his. He leaned forward and supported his weight on his hands. His cock lay beside hers on her stomach. His own hairy pouch was pressed against hers. Together, they stared at the twin cocks.
The sight was exciting and Jane began to mutter, eyes opening and closing as her head turned from side to side. He felt her knees close against him. With her hands behind her knees, she suddenly pulled her thighs up to her chest, raising her hips from the mattress. Her legs again st his shoulders forced him upright. His cock pointed at her entrance between the hard, stretched muscles of her bottom. She had prepared herself. Oil shone in her furrow and on her dark purple knot. It was pulsing, mouthing an urgent invitation.
“Please, Mr Tim, please...” she begged. He leaned forward, pressed for an instant, and slid deep inside her.
Other Titles by
Jacqueline George
www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com
A Walk on the Wild Side Page 5
