by C. B. Martin
‘Sorry, Tara. It’s this feckin’ trolley. Got a mind of its own, especially now it’s only got three wheels. By the way, if the neighbouring shop says anything about their car being dented; it wasn’t me, right? It’s just a coincidence. Me fourth trolley wheel is stuck underneath his car, along with me right shoe. That dent was feck-all to do with me,’ Siobhan stammered in a continuous stream of speech. She then hobbled through the door, dragging a wobbly Tesco trolley that was filled to the brim with wine boxes. ‘So you alright then?’
‘Yeah, I’m really happy about seeing my man on the TV,’ I replied, laughing at her scatty behaviour. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised Siobhan, but I have to ask… what’s with the trolley?’
‘Well, I was going through Tesco looking for a little something for tonight, right? I see these boxes of wine on offer. That’ll do nicely, I thought. So I pile them into me trolley and you know how it is, you try a little tipple on your way to the till. Who doesn’t? But I took a little detour and didn't realise I’d been through nearly a whole box. Anyways, I get outside and I can’t remember where I parked the feckin’ car. So here I am, trolley and all. I’ve paid a feckin’ pound for it anyway. That reminds me, Tara, I’ll be needing that pound back. Have you a fork or something so I can jimmy it out?’
‘Oh, Siobhan,’ I replied with mock reproach at yet another dose of her crazy antics. ‘Help yourself, but leave the trolley outside please. Now come on - the match is about to start.’
We all crowded into the staffroom, finding space as best we could around the tiny TV. As I took a seat, I began to gloat to myself; not only am I going to watch my future husband at work, I’m going to tape it so I can show everyone (including our future children). I was so very excited that I could finally see Travis in his kit. As an added bonus, I would be surrounded by my girlfriends and gay best friend. I felt so proud that at last they could get to see what I had been going on about since I returned from Ireland.
The game finally got off to a cracking start. For what felt like ages, I was glued to the TV but I still had not caught a glimpse of Travis. The camera was on everyone but him. I kept scanning the team and mistakenly shouting ‘there he is, there he is’ before correcting myself and beginning my search afresh. Luckily, after a few minutes of this, Jayde gently told me I was looking at the wrong team entirely.
After a quarter of an hour of pointlessly scanning the TV, the game broke for a few minutes while some man in a tracksuit ran on to rub an injured players leg. In the distance, I could see another man running on to the pitch with water bottles. Was it him? Please God. Please God, let the camera do a close up. With that, my prayers were answered.
There he was. Oh my god. I turned to my friends, my hands clasped to my face in joy.
‘Is he not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?’ I said, turning quickly back to stare at the man of my dreams. My face felt like it was on fire from the minute I saw him. I was glowing with pride, torn between serenely watching his every move and screaming and jumping up and down like a child. Then, he reached up with one of those wonderful hands and scratched his nose, just as he had promised. That was it for me. Game over.
I was hysterical. All hopes of playing the calm Goddess of Love were gone. There was my man, standing on a pitch, wearing the sexiest pair of shorts and trainers I had ever seen. And he was sending a signal to me!
God, he was so manly. I was beside myself. I couldn't help it, so I ran over and kissed the TV. I, Tara Ryan, had made love with that man.
By now, play had resumed and it had started to rain heavily on the pitch. I so wished I was there. The mud, the sweat, the ear pulling (they really shouldn't do that), the diving, the skidding and scrumming – the whole thing left us all ooh’ing and ahh’ing. Everyone in the staffroom was caught up in the excitement of it all and we were all chanting and singing so much we completely drowned out the commentary. Sometime in the second half, I caught another glimpse of Travis; soaking wet and running his hands through his hair. I squealed like a teenager and everyone else in the Salon joined in too. We laughed and embraced each other as though we’d witnessed our own team win the league.
By the time the match was over and Travis’ team had won, we were all completely hysterical; laughing, crying and screeching at the top of our lungs while swigging Siobhan’s supermarket wine. I watched with pride as the manager, Travis and the subs poured onto the pitch embracing and congratulating each other.
‘Tara, darling,’ sighed James, ‘does one know if the gorgeous Mr. Coleman is into spandex at all? That’s what the good Lord invented it for, sexuo-erotic Gods like him. He’s just so… so… so… dick-matising! Pwweeeese can we stay to meet him, just for a nanosecond?’
‘James!’ shot back Siobhan, ‘I’ve made a promise to Tara that we would vacate the Salon without a fuss.’
‘What? Huh? Sorry James, hang on, I’m just texting Travis,’ I said, utterly oblivious to his comments.
[Text to Travis]
Well done!! I’m so proud of you! You looked so utterly gorgeous in your kit Xx
‘But I want to meet him,’ pouted James, tugging at my shirt. ‘Can’t we just stay here for an insy-winsy bit, just so I can checkout his cute-t-cles? He might want a manicure or something. I’d be perfectly happy to give him a quick soak and a hand job.’
[Text from Travis]
Thanks babe. See you in 30 mins or so. I’m rock hard just thinking about you xxx
‘James!’ hissed Siobhan placing her hands firm on his shoulders and dragging him over to the corner of the Salon. ‘Shhhh. Don’t say another word.’
‘But…’ stropped James sounding not unlike a two-year-old.
‘Come here to me, James,’ ordered Siobhan cutting him short. He looked very sullen before she began to whisper urgently into his ear. Then, in an instant he started to grin like a schoolboy and even did a little excited jump.
I didn't give a second thought to their mischievous antics. I had far too much on my mind, such as my tingling lady-garden after Travis’ last text, for one. Turning, I raised my hand to calm everyone.
‘Sorry, James, what was it that you wanted to say earlier?’
‘Nothing that can’t wait,’ James stated, his eyes darting quickly over to Siobhan’s.
‘Okay, well sorry to be a party pooper guys, but I’m throwing you out,’ I said, trying to stop the grin that was spreading across my face. ‘I’m about to do some intense scrumming of my own - and guys, sorry but this isn’t a team game…’
Jayde already had her coat on and was rushing out the door. And surprisingly, James and Siobhan were also very compliant, heading purposefully to the door without a murmur of complaint or even a ribald comment. They really are great friends, I thought. Very understanding and supportive indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I squealed out loud like a child, excitedly sprinting around the Salon checking and everything was perfectly in its place. Finally, here was my opportunity to show off my Salon, Glamma-Puss, to Travis. It was, after all, the one thing that I had got right in my life. It was nothing but a shell when I had first viewed it but with blood, sweat, tears and sheer determination, I had achieved my dream of creating a successful, top-class Hair and Beauty Salon with a reputation to match.
Dashing over to the staffroom, I put on my all-time favorite CD from the ‘Bam-Buddah Grove’ collection. I’ve always loved its spiritual blend of tones that were relaxing, yet rhythmic; with hedonistic and erotic pulses. Just hearing the first few bars of its smooth sounds sent shivers down my spine. It sent me wild with thoughts of Travis and I getting up to mischief. I really must remember to take the disc home with me tonight. Oh-my-god! Just the thought of what was about to happen suddenly stopped me in my tracks. I could just imagine making love to him with those head tripping sounds in the background. That really is the ultimate setting for an all-night, steamy sex session.
I walked back into the Salon and switched off the main overhead lighting; preferring
the soft, seductive glow from the two huge Bourgie gold table lamps that were placed either side of the chaise longue. The Salon looked perfect; towels stacked and rolled, colour coordinated in minks and creams, large ornate mirrors gleaming and workstations neat and tidy. I was desperate to impress Travis. I would show him around the Salon, show off my entrepreneurial flair and then we would get a taxi to the fancy, romantic restaurant I had booked. After that, I’d whisk him back to mine. After all, he had set the standard so high on our last date, it was the least I could do for the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
I prayed the outfit I had chosen to wear was worthy of his presence. Pacing nervously over to the Salon mirror, I did a quick check of my efforts to pull off the perfect WAG-like look. Hair; ruffled and humungous, check. Acrylic, nude nails; still attached, check. Lashes glued securely, check. Oh, that one looks a little loose. Bugger. Well, I’m not risking fiddling around with glue now, it will have to do. Lips lined and dripping with nude lip-gloss, check. Black sheer shirt, daringly transparent; check. Lacey black bra; still visual check. Oh feck it. Pouting at my reflection, I popped open another button. Cleavage on display; very visual, check.
Suddenly startled, I swung around to face the Salon door. ‘Travis… is that you?’ I totted over and peered through the blinds. I couldn't see a soul. I could've sworn I heard someone.
Right, back to the preparations. After witnessing countless men dropping their jaws over Laura’s Christmas outfit, I had decided to copy it for my big date. Of course, my version had to be more expensive. This wasn’t deliberate one-upmanship; it was simply that the sales were over now, which forced me to spend considerably more than I had wanted. But hey, Travis was worth it. I smoothed down my horrendously uncomfortable tight black leather skirt and heaved the thick, black, waist-emphasizing belt-buckle in by one more notch. I had teamed it with a very elegant Yves Saint Laurent sheer black shirt with diamante fastenings and statement satin cuffs. Beat that, Laura.
I quickly shoved on my skyscraper Louboutins and straightened my stockings. No more hold-ups for me - I’d certainly learnt my lesson. This time I was wearing an extortionately priced silk and lace black suspender belt. I hoped they wouldn’t just be more reliable, but more comfortable too. So far, that was not the case. When I attached my stockings to the clips of the belt I’m almost sure I damaged my spine. How the feck are you meant to clip the damn things on behind you and keep your stockings straight? Thankfully Siobhan had lined them up for me earlier on.
By now I was starting to feel very nervous. Travis could walk through that door at any moment, flashing me one of those oh-so-sexy smiles. I glanced up at the Salon clock. It was nearly 7pm.
Where should I be waiting? I wondered, as I paced around the Salon taking up various nonchalant poses. I wanted to appear very busy and sexy as he arrives. Eventually, I decided the best first impression would be if I were on the Salon phone taking a pretend booking. Yes, that was it.
Just as I picked up the phone in readiness for my charade, I spotted him trying the door handle. My heart leapt.
‘Push the door harder Travis,’ I mouthed, busying myself with my fake conversation. To be honest though, I lost the thread of it the minute I saw him walk in. My gaze was completely riveted by his presence.
‘Hey you,’ he smiled.
I blew him a kiss and pointed theatrically at the phone, swinging myself around in the opposite direction.
‘Come on, come on,’ he whispered loudly, tapping at his watch impatiently. His eyes were wild with excitement.
I smiled nervously, indicating with an elaborate mime that I wouldn't be long. To raise the stakes in my game, I provocatively eased myself around the front of the reception desk. Now he was standing just inches away.
I had never seen Travis in his kit before, well not in real life. I had to pinch myself that this was really happening to me. One minute he’s on the TV in front of thousands of fans and groupies, and the next, he’s here, with me, in the flesh. The fact that he had mud all over that flesh just added to my aching longing to touch him.
Forgetting completely that I was supposed to be in an intense client conversation (albeit a pretend one), I exhaled in a rush. I became acutely aware that my breathing was now quite audible. In fact, I may even have been panting. Heated anticipation ran through me as I watched him casually stride back to the Salon door. He nonchalantly leaned back against it, propping his muddy boot up against the once - spotless sill. Without looking at me, he whipped out his phone and diverted all attention to seemingly more pressing matters than me.
‘Sorry,’ I mouthed, ‘I won’t be long.’ He didn't seem to notice.
A lump appeared in my throat. I began to kick myself that I hadn't jumped the bones off him the second he arrived, but not me, oh no, I have to plan a stupid staged greeting and he’s bored shitless with me already.
‘I’m gonna fuck you hard when you get off that phone,’ he stated without even looking up as he continued to tap into his phone.
‘Not in your dirty rugby kit, surely?’ I whispered back, pressing the button to end my call.
‘Oh yes I am,’ he added, without a trace of humour. He took one last, quick glimpse at his phone before tossing it over to the chaise longue. His eyes finally met mine as he peeled off his hoodie in one swift movement, pausing only to wipe his brow with it.
‘Tara, you look so fucking hot in that outfit. I want you - and I want you right now.’
‘This old outfit?’ I gestured down at myself nonchalantly, tutting and fluttering my lashes. ‘I haven't even had time to get changed from work yet, what must you think of me?’
‘Right here, right now I want to rip it all off you and fuck your brains out,’ he said in a low voice, stepping closer.
For a few seconds, I was completely taken back. This didn’t seem like my Travis at all. He didn’t seem to have any of his usual charm. He seemed utterly focused on one thing. It wasn’t that I was complaining because, to be fair, I was thinking the same thing. I just expected… well, I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps a yielding soft mattress would have been a good start. It must be the adrenaline still pumping around him from the match. I must be understanding. It’s very important that I support him at a time like this. I’d been reading all about this in my research on all the do’s and don’ts of a WAG.
‘Err, would you like me to show you around the Salon first? I simpered. ‘Or, we could go straight back to mine, freshen up and then dinner?’
‘Babe, I’ve already eaten,’ he said. ‘I grabbed a quick bite after the match and had a protein shake. I just haven't had dessert… yet.’
There was no mistaking it. His voice was laced with unfamiliar tones of urgency. I swallowed hard and picked up my glass of wine from earlier and gulped some down.
‘Okay, well perhaps you might eat later,’ I smiled, doing my utmost to appear calm and accommodating.
‘By the way, where are your bags? I asked suddenly, noticing he had nothing with him, ‘because if you have left them in your car, I’m happy to come with you to get them?’ Move over all you WAGs. I’m on top of this, big time.
Travis didn't respond. Without uttering a word he lunged over to me, shoving both his hands through my hair, causing me to lose my balance and fall backwards onto the desk. His lips pushed hard against mine and I could taste the saltiness of his sweat. He pinned me down with one strong arm while using the other to clear the reception desk in one foul swoop, sending everything in its path smashing to the ground. I released an involuntary moan, almost dissolving on the spot.
‘Fuck, I need this Tara,’ he groaned, keeping me firmly and masterfully fixed down to the desk as he buried his stubbled jaw into my shirt, tearing at the remaining fastenings with his teeth to gain further access. He breathed me in; inhaling my sweet perfume and nuzzled his stubble roughly over my décolletage; skillfully teasing, nuzzling and descending lower with his tongue. I felt wild with passion; encouraging him, pulling him into me,
weaving my fingers in and around his sweaty, sexy hair. I could feel him sucking, poking and prodding. His tongue was in desperate search of my erect nipples; finding them through the lace of my bra and teasing them with groaning sounds until he had one breast bursting over the cup. My breasts were heavy with aching for more stimulation. Every move he made sent shivers of lusty longing surging through me.
He abruptly stopped, tearing his black rugby shorts and boxers down over his trainers before kicking them away. He then began frantically hitching up my skirt, steering me effortlessly into position. I watched his eyes widen as he caught sight of my sheer stockings and suspenders. The sight seemed to encourage even more crazed, wild behaviour. He worked his way down my body, plunging his tongue through the lace of my scanty knickers tracing my lady-line folds, inhaling me and panting like an animal.
‘Travis, not here… we can’t! I moaned. ‘Anyone could walk in. The doors are not locked and the blinds are still open.’
‘I don't mind, if you don't mind,’ he growled, ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it into the air.
‘I mind,’ I said, weakly. I was both slightly disgusted and yet completely and utterly turned on by his suggestion. ‘Travis, stop!’ I whispered, slapping his hands playfully as he started again.
‘I can’t stop,’ he groaned, ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Please, not like this… Slow down,’ I teased determinedly, slapping his hands away again, pushing him off and pulling myself up and away from the desk. I clutched his beautiful hard-set jaw at arms length and stared deeply into his chocolate brown eyes before kissing him tenderly.
‘I need to lock the door and close the blinds, okay? There's no rush, we've got all night.’
I let out a huge, bewildered sigh and swallowed hard while I set about covering up my modesty. I popped my boobs back into their lacy cups, shimmied my skirt back down into place and headed over to lock the door.
