A Dream of White Horses-2
1905 Words
“Very sensible. It’s quite dangerous doing what you’re doing, especially for a woman.”
“I’m careful. I follow the rules. No name. No address. Meet in a public place….”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Have you encountered any…?” He hesitates.
“Freaks? Looneys? Yes, a few. Most of them I manage to weed out at the e-mail and messaging stage. Only one got past my first defences so that so that I actually met him….”
He looks intrigued. “Really? And….”
“We’d talked on the phone a couple of times before we agreed on a date. He had a beautiful speaking voice, all honey and cream. Y’know, a Richard Burton, or Morgan Freeman, or Alan Rickman kind of voice. But when I met him, I knew instantly that there was something wrong….”
He c***s his head. “Instantly? How?”
“It’s hard to describe. Something in his body language. I made a point of sitting on the opposite side of the table from him, but he moved across, all but pinned me into my seat. He kept coming too close, invading my space…. And there was something about the way he looked at me. Too.… oh, I don’t know…. Too eager…. He made my flesh crawl.”
“What did you do?”
“I sat with him for a polite hour; had a polite couple of non-alcoholic drinks, said graciously that it had been nice…. which it hadn’t… and we must do this again sometime…. which I was lying about…. Then I got in my car and drove off, determined never to see him again.”
“So, you never found out if he was really a screwball, or if it was just your imagination?”
“Oh, I found out. He was completely unzipped. Although he didn’t have my real name or where I lived, he did have my mobile number. The messages started coming in within five minutes of me leaving. They were polite enough at first, but when I said that it didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to see him again, they got first nasty, then strange….”
“In what way, strange?”
“Um, he started sending me very graphic descriptions of what he wanted to do with me. And some of them were…. odd; revolting actually. I’m pretty broadminded, but I wasn’t interested in going the places his mind roamed. I don’t know if he imagined it was some kind of seduction technique, but it felt like stalking… I changed my phone number in the end.… Um, do you mind if we change the subject….”
“Of course. Not at all. But after an experience like that, you still do this?”
I shrug it off. “Not everyone’s like him. And I’m not afraid of men in general. I just exercise a bit of judgement.”
“You trust your own judgement for this? How do you know that a man you meet like this isn’t a psycho in disguise? Me, for example?”
“How do any of us know that? How do you know that the woman you meet in the theatre, or the library didn’t just walk out of ‘Play Misty for Me’ or ‘Fatal Attraction’? Me for example?”
He grins, nodding. “Point taken. I exercise my judgement…. So….”
“So….?”
“So, if you and I hooked up, this would be strictly a casual thing. You’re not husband-hunting? Looking for a partner or long-term relationship?”
“Nope. Not me. I don’t want to be tied at the hip. I like a bit of fun a couple of times a week, and then my own life back.”
“So, no dreams of white horses then?”
“White horses?”
“Bearing princes in shining armour, come to carry you off for happily-ever-afters in some far away kingdom?”
I laugh. “Not me.”
He nods. “And would this be, um…. exclusive?” he asks.
“Your profile says you just want to pass by every few weeks… and you want exclusive?”
“I didn’t say I wanted it. I’m just trying to establish the guidelines; what you would expect of me.” His eyes are dark, thoughtful.
And he’s asking all the right questions.
He really is amazingly good looking.
My imagination is going into overdrive….
Ryan…. his weight on top of me…. my legs wrapped around his hips…. he, sliding down my body, his lips grazing my belly as he moves to go down on me.…
His tongue over my clit….
….in my p***y….
I’m drawn back outside my head. He’s still talking.
“…. I’m trying to choose my words carefully, because…. well…. even though we’ve met in the way we have, through a s*x-chat site…. I’m very conscious that I’m a stranger to you and I’m trying to, er, get to the core of things without scaring you off or weirding you out.”
I suck my cheeks in against a smile. “You think you might weird me out? Ryan, believe me, you’re not in the running for that.”
“I’m not? I wasn’t sure. I’ve never done anything quite like this before…. Do you do this a lot?”
“I do it all the time.”
“You have other…” He struggles for the word.
“f**k-buddies? Friends with benefits? Yes, I do.”
“Friends with benefits? Friends, plural? More than one?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“They come and go. Right now, there are two others.”
I see him digesting that, then, “Let’s cut to the chase.” he says. “Are you interested? If you want to say No, that’s fine. We’ll enjoy the rest of the meal together and be friends without benefits at the end of it….”
I chuckle. “Oh, no… No need for that…. I’m interested.”
“Ah… good.” His expression changes completely, from politely attentive to.… what…? I can’t quite read him. “That, er… that puts a different light on the evening.…”
He sucks his bottom lip, apparently deep in thought.
You can suck me too….
He eyes me speculatively. “Without wishing to seem pushy, did you have any plans for later this evening?”
“Not at all. I wanted to see how this worked out.”
A smile plays over his lips. “Rather well so far as I can see…. Can I offer you…. coffee…. back at my hotel?”
*****
And so, not for the first time, I enter a stranger’s hotel room. This is where I find out if he’s really what he appears to be.
A nervous tingle runs down my spine, the doubt of the unknown; the knowledge that, just possibly, I have misjudged and this man is…. a crackpot, a loony, a weirdo….
And of course, the doubt is part of the thrill….
“When did you book this room?” I ask.
“I’m staying here anyway. I wasn’t making assumptions. As I told you, I travel for my work and I use this hotel regularly.”
“Ah….”
He hangs his jacket neatly over a chair, then dims the lights
“Would you actually like some coffee? Or would you prefer wine?” he asks. “It’s always a little embarrassing, isn’t it? The first time with someone. So, just in case…. I got a bottle in….”
I nod. “Yes, those toe-curling minutes between the last cup of coffee and….”
He throws a side-glance at me then, chuckling, he produces a couple of glasses and a bottle from a cupboard.
“Music perhaps?” he suggests, waving me to a player. Have a look through the list, see what appeals to you. Make yourself comfortable.”
It’s a pleasant room, and looks expensive; beautifully decorated, with fresh flowers by the window, fruit in a bowl and elegant furniture. Eyeing the pale, thick carpet, I slip my shoes off.
I watch Ryan as he wrestles with the corkscrew, then pouring two glasses, passes one to me. Such a good-looking man; in the lowered light, his chocolate eyes are almost black.
Together on the settee, we sit in awkward silence for a minute. The wine glass is a handy prop, giving me something to do as I sip, waiting for….
…. for what comes next….
“So, who makes the first move, mmm?” he says, his arm slipping around my shoulders. “This may not be the last of the great romances, but I think we can both enjoy this.”
Taking my face in his palms, he brushes back a stray lock of my dark hair, finger-combing it back behind an ear.
He doesn’t smile, but his expression is intense as he gazes at me. “No, not pretty. Little girls and flowers are pretty. Kittens are pretty. You are beautiful.” He leans in to me, his mouth close to mine, not touching, but halfway, inviting me in closer. As I sway towards him, his lips brush my skin, just barely.
And now he smiles, his lips curving as he inclines his face to mine. This time, the kiss is deeper, the soft flesh of his mouth pressing to mine. He tastes of wine and a sweet, lustful masculinity.
The fingers of one hand twine through my dark chestnut locks. The other hand glides around my shoulders, pulling me in.
His face resting by mine, “How do you like it, Debbie? Hard? Soft? Do you want to take the lead? Or do you prefer me to?”
I didn’t expect him to ask me this. Most men simply get on with it.
“I like to be man-handled a bit….”
He pauses. “You enjoy pain?”
“No, not pain, or not too much. But I like the man to take charge.”
He nods. “Take charge? Dominate you, you mean?”
“Yes, that’s just what I mean.”
He pauses, collecting his thoughts I think, then, “Stand up.” He takes my wine glass from me. “Go on. Stand up.”
A little uncertainly, I rise.
“In there,” he says, head-pointing me through a door.
It’s the bedroom. Ryan follows me in, then spinning me by the shoulders, a hand on my chest, pushes me hard, backwards against the wall.
He’s strong….
“Like this?” Grabbing me by the wrists, he raises them over my head, pinning them, his body pressed against mine.
So close, he looms over me and my breath snatches….
“Like this?” he repeats, his voice fierce. “Answer me, Debbie. I’m not going to play these sorts of games without an answer from you.”
“Yes, like that.”
He presses against me harder, my heartbeat drumming through our joined bodies. “Do you undress yourself, or do I strip you?”
My breath juddering, “Strip me.”
His head tilts. “Really? Wish I’d known that before. I’d have made some arrangements over what you would wear….”
His hands sliding down to the hem of my pullover, he tugs at it, jerking it up and over my head. “I’d like to rip it off you, but not this time, eh?”
My heart is racing, chest heaving. He reaches back around me, deliberately rough, unclipping my bra and yanking it off me.
My breasts freed, he fastens his mouth around one, stooping to take it between his lips. The other, he kneads one-handedly, pinching at the n****e, which hardens and crinkles.
“You do enjoy this, don’t you?” he murmurs. “So do I. Let’s see just how rough you like it.”
Grabbing my wrists again, he pulls me away from the wall, dragging me towards the bed, then turning me, pushes me down on the mattress, flat on my back. The zip rasps as he unfastens my jeans and peels them away, leaving me in just my white lacy panties.
Propping myself on my elbows, panting now, I watch as he strips off tie and shirt, and shrugs off shoes. Through his black trousers, the unmistakable bulge of his erection presses tight. Bare-chested, he is tawny skinned, with a scattering of black hair and taut, lean abs.
“I’m going to enjoy this, Debbie. f*****g you….”
He’s pressing all my buttons…. all of them….
My clit tingling, my p***y knots and clenches, and my panties are wet…. very wet….
Ah, Jeez….
“…. Kirstie.”
“What?”
“It’s not Debbie. My name’s Kirstie….”
He c***s an eyebrow. “It suits you better. You didn’t really look like a ‘Debbie’ to me. That’s a ‘pretty’ name.” He clambers over me, hovering on all fours, straddling my quivering body. “I’ll rephrase it then. I’m going to enjoy f*****g you, Kirstie.”
- Writer
