The Debt

by D A Latham

  I snorted, narrowly avoiding spitting my wine over the table. "It's not funny," he said, annoyed at me.

  "Its your choice of words that's funny, that's all," I said, arranging my features into neutrality. "How come you haven't tried it out since?"

  "Because it's awkward. Nerve-wracking, you know." He concentrated on his food, avoiding my eyes.

  "Isn't a bit of awkwardness better than years of celibacy?" I was curious.

  "I don't know," he confessed. "All I know is that I tried everything, all the pills, pumps, and stuff. None of it worked for me. Charlotte thought it was her. I suppose she couldn't face a celibate life, or at least one without kids. Since then I've been… avoiding it. Until you that is."

  "You think you might be OK with me?"

  "I don't know, but I'd like to try. I just wanted to warn you, you know, beforehand. I know you're a little... fragile, and I don't want to hurt you any more than you've already been."

  "I appreciate your honesty." I didn't really know what else to say.

  He leaned forward. "Earlier, when you were people watching, would you have watched us two, thinking we'd have been having the conversation we've just had?" I shook my head, understanding dawning. "Exactly. Everybody has problems. The only problem you have is lack of money."

  "I've got more problems than that," I argued. "I'm in hopeless debt, I live in a bedsit and I lost my driving licence." I slipped it in at the end, sort of hoping he wouldn't notice.

  "All temporary problems," he dismissed.

  "So is yours," I purred in what I hoped was my most seductive voice. He glanced up at me and smiled. "Would it be better if we didn't try actual sex at first?" I asked. "Get comfortable with each other in other ways before we, you know, shag?."

  “Maybe, I don't know. Let's play it by ear."

  We resumed eating. My meal was lovely, but I was too preoccupied by Andy's revelation to fully appreciate it. Half of me was relieved that he hadn't revealed anything terrible, the other half was disappointed that he wasn't the supreme alpha male I'd expected him to be. In some ways, it made him more real, less of a remote Adonis. I figured the “Mr Grey” types really only did exist in novels.

  "Are you disappointed?" He interrupted my train of thought.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I'm surprised, mainly because you seem so confident and so very masculine. I'm pleased that you're not a perv though."

  "So you think I'm masculine?" He beamed at me.

  "Extremely masculine," I clarified. It seemed to please him. Despite his revelation, I still fancied the pants off him. I longed for him to kiss me, feel his hands on me. It hadn't put me off him, if anything it had become a challenge.

  CHAPTER 4

  We went back to my place. I was quite eager to see Andy's house, but he explained that his brother Phil would be there, and he'd feel quite inhibited. The moment we walked through the door, my nerves began to kick in. If he were impotent with me, my already-fragile ego would take another battering.

  He closed the door behind us, then stalked over, never breaking eye contact. I shivered with anticipation as he grasped my shoulders, pulling me into him. He leaned down to kiss me, softly at first, almost chastely. His lips felt incredibly soft pressed against mine. I relaxed into his hold, just as his tongue met mine for the very first time.

  As our tongues gently explored, his hands roamed over my back, into my hair and finally came to rest at my nape. His touch felt confident, almost soothing. I could let this man lead me without fearing him. There was nothing malevolent about him whatsoever; all I sensed was his reverence. He really wanted me. His mouth pushed harder against mine, devouring my lips in a show of barely-restrained passion. It was difficult to believe that he was a man with sexual hang-ups as he pressed kisses up my neck, tasting me.

  I threw my head back to give him better access to my neck, revelling in the feelings of nerve endings igniting as his lips caressed the sensitive skin. My entire body was responding to him in a way I'd never experienced before. I felt my nipples harden and my clit begin to pulse. He began to push my jacket off my shoulders. I tensed, knowing he wouldn't stop at just my outerwear. "What's the matter?" He murmured softly, obviously aware of my reticence.

  "Before we go any further, would you do something for me?" I asked.

  "Sure." He opened his eyes to gaze down at me. "What would you like me to do?"

  "Can you turn the light off before we undress? I don't want you to see my scars."

  I wished I had a beautiful body to present to him, one that was alluring and perfect. I'd always been ashamed of my scars and kept them covered as much as possible. The one on my tummy was a jagged, stretched mess, a particularly unfortunate one, as I had nice, perky boobs and a flat stomach. In another life, I'd have had a bikini model's figure. In this life, I had to put up with hideous imperfections.

  "I'm not worried about them," he said softly, "but if it makes you feel better..." I watched as he shed his coat and flicked the switch. The room plunged into darkness, punctuated only by the glimmer of the streetlights below, seeping round the edges of the ill-fitting blinds. I relaxed a little. I preferred sex in the dark, my body hidden from view. I could concentrate on how he felt, how he tasted, without pesky self-consciousness getting in the way.

  His hands were back on me, roaming over my torso, feeling their way around my body. I pulled the dressy top off over my head and flung it on the chair, desperate to feel him touch my bare skin. I worked on the buttons of his shirt while he kissed me. We were both getting hungrier for each other; our breathing was ragged as I slipped his shirt off his shoulders and ran my hands over his pecs.

  I could feel his chest hair. I longed to see it, to see him naked, but that meant exposing myself. It was vital that we were both relaxed, at least for the first time. Taking a deep breath, I unclipped my bra and let it fall to the ground.

  His hands immediately wrapped round my breasts, feeling them, kneading them gently. He groaned then dipped down to suck on my nipples, which were standing up proudly, begging for attention. As he flicked each in turn with his tongue, I felt the sensation travel straight to my groin. My clit was pulsating so hard it almost hurt. I prayed to God that he'd be able to give me some relief from the tension building within me.

  "I knew once I started kissing you that I wouldn't be able to stop," he murmured, before switching back to my mouth. I felt his hands move to the waistband of my trousers. He fumbled slightly before popping the button and sliding them down my legs, along with my thong.

  Not to be outdone, I made short work of opening his trousers. I could feel his erection pressing against the waistband of his Calvins. I ran my hand over the outline of it, making him groan. At that point, we both kicked off our shoes and remaining clothes, both impatient to get to the other.

  I grasped his dick as he bent down to kiss me again, pressing his chest to mine. His skin felt warm and wonderfully smooth, like satin wrapped around wood. I jumped with surprise as his finger probed my soaked pussy, sliding back and forth over the slippery folds. My own arousal intensified tenfold, and I was beginning to ache to be filled. His cock was straining in my hand, leaking pre-cum, so I knew he was as turned on as I was. I prayed that it would stay hard enough to at least bring me off.

  He guided me onto the bed, where he carried on kissing my body, alternating with licks and nips. His thumb found my clit and began circling. The ache inside grew stronger until I couldn't ignore it any longer. "Andy, please," I gasped.

  "Please what?" He said softly.

  "Fuck me, please," I begged. I felt the bed shift.

  I held my breath as he pressed into me, praying and hoping that it would work.

  It felt as hard as steel.

  "Oh Jesus," he gasped, as it slid in, right to the hilt, hitting that sweet spot inside. He began to move, cautiously at first, then bolder as he realised it wasn't going soft anytime soon. I reached between us to carry on rubbing my clit. He raised himself up on his arms to allow me ea
sy access.

  Damn, it felt good.

  He began to fuck me at a punishing pace, filling me totally. I felt a soul-shattering orgasm begin to brew. "Oh God, I'm coming," I called out, lost in the sensations overtaking my body. I was vaguely aware of his breathing becoming ragged before I fell into my climax.

  "I can feel it," he gasped, as my insides pulled upwards. "I'm coming too." He pressed in deep and let out a growl as he came. I felt it pulsate inside me.

  We stayed like that for a few minutes. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest as we both got our breath back. Eventually, I broke the silence. "Wow... That was incredible."

  He nuzzled my neck. "Sally, you have no idea just how incredible that was for me."

  We made love three times that night, interspersed with little interludes of talking and finding out about each other. I discovered that he didn't like sushi; he found out that I was terrified of spiders. He also confessed that he'd thought he'd never have sex again. "Nothing wrong with you," I said, giving his dick a little squeeze. If anything, he seemed quite insatiable, which he put down to the excitement of actually being potent again. He'd told me about how horrified he'd been when he'd struggled with impotence, how it would refuse to co-operate, and the terrible arguments and blame that would follow. He'd resigned himself to solo sex until he'd met me.

  "Somehow I knew you'd be different," he'd said, before tweaking my nipple playfully. Then he jumped me. Again.

  I think we finally dozed off just before the sun came up, snuggled together in my lumpy little bed.

  I woke up to a naked Andy making us cups of tea. As I struggled up onto my elbows, I got the first full view of this perfect specimen of manhood. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and slender hips. His bum was rounded and peachy and when he turned around to smile at me, I gulped. His dick was thick and meaty. Although I'd felt it when we'd made love, the darkness hadn't done it justice. "God you're sexy." The words were out of my mouth before my brain engaged.

  "Good morning to you too," he said, smiling warmly, "and I happen to think that you're dead sexy too, so we're even." He brought our teas over and placed them on the bedside table. I instinctively checked my fringe and pulled the covers up higher. He perched on the edge of the bed. "Last night... It was incredible." He began, "It's as though I never had the problem." He kissed me softly and chastely on the lips, avoiding the horrors of morning breath.

  "Do you regret telling me?" I asked. He shook his head.

  "Not at all. It was important to me that I was honest with you. If I'd kept quiet, it would've added to the pressure, and given that it was a psychological issue, might have made it flop." He smiled at me and stroked my face affectionately. I flinched as he touched my hair, pushing it back from my face, the scar on my forehead in full view.

  "Is this one of the scars from your accident?" He asked quietly, staring at it. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes as the full horror was revealed. I nodded, the lump in my throat preventing me from speaking. In daylight, my defects would put him off, I was certain of it. He traced the line of the scar with his finger, then bent down and kissed it. "You're still beautiful. I don't know what you were worried about," he said finally, "although you are doing a passable impersonation of a panda right now."

  I'd forgotten about the smoky eye makeup. In the heat of passion, it'd been the last thing on my mind. I licked my fingers and ran them under my eyes. Judging by the amount stuck to my fingers, I must've looked quite comical. He looked amused as he sipped his tea. "My scars are horrible. I wish they weren't there," I admitted.

  "If you hadn't been constantly tugging at your fringe, I'd never have even noticed it. It's very faint. Can I see the others?" He didn't wait for permission. He set his cup down and peeled back the covers, exposing first my breasts, then my tummy. I cringed. "You really have the most magnificent tits," he said. "They felt amazing last night— really perky and full. I love big boobs." He ran his hand over my stomach, over my scar. "Your waist is so tiny."

  "The scar is vile though," I pointed out as he stroked it.

  "Not really, it's only a scar. The way you spoke about it, I imagined it would be much worse."

  I started to relax a little. If he didn't scream when he saw the mess left of my right leg, then I'd be able to walk around naked in front of him. I pulled the cover down a little further and slipped my leg out. "This is the worst one," I told him. My leg had been trapped by a piece of the lorry. It had been touch-and-go whether it should be amputated or not. It was only still there due to a kind nurse who'd stood up for me and convinced the surgeon to try and save it. As it was, I had scars criss-crossing it. The muscles were lumpy and uneven, and due to the extensive damage, shaving was tricky, so hairs showed here and there. In short, it wasn't pretty, but it was better than the alternative and I didn't even have a limp.

  "That must've hurt," he said eventually.

  "It did," I replied. He didn't seem horrified, just curious. "I overheard the surgeon telling my nurse that he wanted to amputate it; said it would be quicker and easier than trying to fix it. I was too scared to sleep after that. I was convinced I'd wake up with no leg, that they'd do it without telling me. That was worse than the pain from the damage, the fear of losing it and the total loss of control over the situation."

  "You were eight when this happened?"

  I nodded. "My nurse convinced him to try and save my leg. After that, even if it hurt, I never let on. I thought if I complained, they'd cut it off to shut me up."

  He leaned down to plant a kiss on a particularly lumpy bit of my thigh. "I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm sad you had to face it alone. When Rupert was about eight, he was in hospital with a burst appendix. Cried like a girl whenever Mum tried to leave, so she stayed there with him. Dad had to take the week off work to look after the rest of us, which we thought was great. The four of us went feral, living off pizza and building a tree-fort in the garden. Mum went nuts when she found out none of us had changed our clothes all week." He smiled fondly at the memory.

  "Sounds like you had a great childhood," I said.

  "Yeah. With three brothers, all close in age, there was never a shortage of playmates." He was stroking my leg absentmindedly as he spoke, his hands rhythmic and soothing. "Rupes was immensely proud of his scar, used to show it off all the time, told people he'd got it in the Gulf War, stupid idiot. If he'd have had yours, he'd have been delighted and probably told people he'd got them fighting a dragon or something."

  I laughed, "I never thought of doing that."

  I jumped as his hand slid up my leg to the apex of my thighs. My breath hitched as he began probing gently, pleasuring me. He watched my reactions intently as he pushed first one finger, then two, inside me. I arched off the bed. The man had a magic touch. "You get aroused so easily," he mused as my legs fell open rather shamelessly.

  "It's you," I gasped, "I don't normally."

  "We didn't use a condom last night," he murmured, "I meant to but…" He trailed off.

  "I meant to as well, but you were on a roll, and I didn't want to interrupt. I'm on the pill, so you don't need to worry."

  He flashed me what I'll call his naughty smile and dove down between my legs to give me lush, long licks. I squirmed in delight, relishing every sensation. Somehow Andy had made me relax. His easy acceptance of my flaws made sex even more pleasurable, if that was possible.

  He managed to wring another orgasm out of me, the stud-muffin.

  I stretched lazily as he made another tea. "Can you get some coffee in?" He asked. "I normally drink fresh coffee in the mornings."

  "I'll see what I can do," I replied, my mind racing with panic over how I'd somehow come up with a coffee maker. I decided to check out the local charity shops for a cafetière. He really had no idea just what being skint actually meant on a practical level.

  "I'm going to have to go soon," he said, pulling a sad face, "I really don't want to, but I promised Mum I'd be there for lunch. I need to run
some errands too, get myself ready for work tomorrow."

  I felt a pang of disappointment that he'd be leaving, although I wasn't entirely sure why. I decided not to let it show. "I need to get this place cleared up and some laundry done," I told him.

  He left, after giving me a lush, deep kiss and a promise that he'd call. I felt strangely flat and lonely the moment the door closed behind him. It was almost as though the whole weekend had been a dream, and I'd finally woken up. Only the presence of the new phone and laptop reassured me that it really had all happened, and it hadn't just been a wishful figment of my imagination.

  I stripped the bed and put all the laundry in the machine to wash. Back upstairs, I began my cleaning routine, carefully washing down all the surfaces and buffing them till they gleamed. It was one of those mindless tasks I enjoyed enormously, as it gave me time to think. I wondered what Andy's house was like, whether it'd be all expensive, masculine fittings, or messy and cobbled together from mismatched hand-me-downs, as I believed most men weren't into interior design.

  A favourite fantasy of mine was mentally furnishing my imaginary house. I lapped up all the interior decorating shows on the telly and pretty much knew what I'd choose if I ever had the chance. My dream was to own one of the pretty little cottages in Bromley North, a two up, two down with a little front and rear garden. I'd have hanging baskets full of flowers by the front door and make the back garden into a courtyard with a water feature.

  I was interrupted by my new phone chirping. I knew it had to be Andy, as he was the only person who knew the number. Smiling, I opened the text.

  “Take your payslips/P60 and contract of employment into work tomorrow ;)”

  I quickly replied, “Will do,” and sorted out the relevant documents, slipping them into my handbag. I wondered if the suited taxman was one of Andy's brothers, and they were discussing my case over lunch.

  I was still smiling when I went to bed that evening, on my freshly-laundered and pressed sheets.