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His hair was long – past the shoulders long; the kind of hair that you’d have to be pretty confident to grow, if you were a man. Normally, it was tied back in a pony tail (I know – a pony tail) but when he occasionally shook it out, I had the distinct urge to reach out and stroke it or tangle my fingers in it, like it was some kind of animal’s mane.
Dan had started work at the bar earlier that summer: he’d moved to London from Hicksville, Somewhere, and was already lording it around the bar and its inhabitants like only a small town attention-seeker can.
He was an incorrigible flirt even though he had a girlfriend, to whom I heard him talking to on the phone from time to time, and he always looked at me with a strange mixture of puppyish excitement and puzzled condescension, as though he couldn’t work out whether he wanted to push me up against the store-room wall and fuck me, or pat me on the shoulder and say, “Good girl.”
Speaking of confused, I couldn’t quite work him out either. Although he could be a macho dickhead and often rubbed people up the wrong way with his outspoken and ill-thought-through comments, you could kind of tell that at he had a heart of gold beating beneath that bronzed skin of his. And, when he stopped trying to entertain the crowd and turned that 100-watt smile on you, you couldn’t help falling a little bit in love with the bastard.
I was cooking dinner at home on my day off when my phone beeped.
“Thanks for sorting out the shifts, gorgeous. Oxx.”
Such a stupid thing. I read it and smirked to myself. What a flatterer. But at the same time, I felt a twinge of lust. For a tiny moment, a split second, I imagined kissing him, imagined sliding a hand over his solid, muscled body.
Later that week I was prepping the bar for another Friday night. I’d sprayed on some new perfume that afternoon, in an attempt to counteract the smell of booze and cigarette smoke that would become the inevitable fragrance of my night. In the stale before-hours air of the bar, I felt as fresh as a daisy. But I knew, come 3am, that daisy would be wilted, slightly stained and possibly trodden beneath the foot of some oafish man.
As I considered, slightly regretfully, my current choice of career, I heard the door from the back rooms swing open behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dan walking in. I turned back to face the bar, continuing to slice the lemons, and in a second he was behind me, hands on my waist. He sniffed my neck.
“New perfume, hey babe?” he breathed into my ear and the skin along my spine shivered involuntarily.
I carried on chopping, trying to regain my composure, as he carried on past me and started unloading glasses from the washer. I felt like I was hypersensitive to his presence, listening to his movements behind me, and rolled my eyes at my own susceptibility. Babe? FFS.
“Man I’m tired – didn’t get home ’til after the cock crowed if you catch my drift. Had to have two espressos to even get my eyelids fully open. It’s gonna be Red Bull all the way tonight,” he called, and I glanced at him over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. His dark eyes were twinkling despite his supposed tiredness, and he grinned wolfishly at me as though he was fully ready for round two of whatever he’d had last night.
Jackson, one of the other barmen on that night, rolled his eyes.
“Fucken’ typical,” he muttered, taking care not to let Dan hear. As he said that, the first group of customers walked through the door. I looked up at the clock. 8pm. It was going to be a long night.
“It’s freezing out there – d’you wanna lift?” Dan asked, leather clad, helmet in hand.
It was 2am, I was knackered and sticky, and I was still clearing up. I looked up from wiping the last table and clocked the solid dark mass of him, from his broad, leather-ridged shoulders down to his heavy metal rimmed boots, standing so insouciantly there.
“Ummm, ok. Thanks,” I muttered back, catching his gaze for a second and then glancing away. He stood there humming as I ran to the back room and grabbed my things.
Outside, in the yard, he mounted the bike and reached into the box for a spare helmet, which he passed to me. I gingerly lifted my leg and got onto the bike behind him.
“Hold on,” he said, “Wrap your arms round me.”
I shifted up so I was pressing into his back and my arms were around him. I was glad that the helmet was now masking my cheeks as I could feel them starting to burn. In spite of myself, I thought of another time and reason why my legs would be parted around him, my breasts pressed up against him.
Jeez. I was grateful that girls don’t have any obvious signs of horniness. My hard nipples and dampening knickers were safely hidden and there was no need for Dan to ever know what he was unwittingly doing to my body.
He revved the engine and we roared off through the streets, slick and shiny with recent rain. What a ride. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned in closer, my chin nudging his shoulder, my thighs tight against his hips. If he’d bursa escort looked at me in the rear-view he’d have seen my exhilarated smile, but he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him.
He dropped me off outside my flat, and I ran inside, heart pounding. I walked straight to my bedroom and leaned against the wall. Sliding my hand down inside my silky knickers and jeans I could feel how wet I was already.
I slid my forefinger and middle finger through the juices and started to circle my clit, still listening to the engine thrumming outside my bedroom window as I pictured him stripping out of those heavy leathers, leaning over me.
I was on a strange high – my breath coming in gasps, my groin throbbing, fingers moving faster and faster until I came, imagining his cock driving into me, glistening with moisture. Laughing to myself, fingers still splayed over my spasming pussy, I swore under my breath. God I wanted to fuck him. And God I knew I was a stupid gullible idiot for it.
The next few weeks were full of the ridiculous dance that two people who have the hots for each other do, if one or both of them are kind of in denial. Dan would tease me, thwack me on the bum with a towel, sniff me in an oddly animalistic way under the guise of admiring my hair products, moisturiser or perfume, and smirk at me whilst he flirted with the other barmaids and/or members of the general public. And I would roll my eyes at him, frown at his corny lines, and find too many pretexts to hit him, push him or grab him as he went by.
After work I’d go home, humming with pent-up sexual energy and too wired to sleep. I felt like I was constantly switched on – my body alert to his, my pussy starting to pulse and slide against itself as I moved. I’d start to think about Dan: the curve of his biceps; the vein pulsing at this side of his tanned neck; the dark swirls of hair on his forearms; the musky-sweaty smell of him at the end of the night; the way his back curved out to his round bum.
And then I’d start to touch myself. My nipples would already be standing to attention; I’d pull down my bra cups to tease them, feeling the softness against the rough lacy texture of the bra. Sometimes I wouldn’t even need to reach under my bed for my silver vibrator; I’d be so jacked up I’d come after a minute or two stroking myself, and then I could sleep.
It was coming up to Jackson’s leaving do and I was carefully not thinking about the possibility of spending some off-duty time with Dan. Up ’til then all my fantasies would be purely that – locked up safely in my brain. But after-hours, I knew from experience that things could change in a second.
The night of Jackson’s party, we all made copious use of the free bar facilities, and of course people started to cast aside their inhibitions (and that was only if they had them in the first place). Dan was always trying to initiate debauchery; lead us down the dark path like a lecherous, drunken Pied Piper. And, goddamn-it, there was definitely a part of me that wanted to be led astray.
Sitting on a leather banquette in a corner of the bar, he had let out his hair for once and the mane was free. I bumped up closer to him along the seat, reached out and pushed my fingers into the soft curls, smiling up at him, playing with the strands.
“You know, you’ve got the softest hair.”
His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. He leaned in and spoke into my ear.
“And you’ve got a great little figure…”
As his hand met the bare skin at my waist it was as if I could feel every nerve ending firing up under his fingers. A jolt of lust flashed its way down into my groin. Damn Dan and damn his stupid lines. Why was I so attracted to him despite it all?
“THREE…TWO…ONE…DOWN IT!” Dan roared, the rhythm of glasses thumping against wood filling my ears as I tipped the fiery liquid into my mouth. It burned against my tongue and ran a trail of warmth down my throat and into my belly.
I scrunched up my eyes against the strength of it and when I opened them Dan was laughing at me, slapping his hand against his denim-clad thigh in mirth, his white, white teeth gleaming. I stopped smiling and glared at him.
“What?” he asked mock-sincerely.
I glared again.
“Come on Sash, you know that looked hilarious. Like Mary Poppins with her first taste of moonshine.” He gazed at me, pouting his bottom lip, and I couldn’t help laughing too.
“Ok, ok,” I relented, “I can’t believe you got me to drink that rancid stuff!”
“There’s a lot more I could get you to do if I put my mind to it,” Dan replied, his voice soft and low. I looked across at him and his eyes locked onto mine. I felt his look of determination and lust physically, like a lightning strike running all the way down through me. Like a punch in the stomach. Like a challenge being laid down.
I turned towards him, and basically lost the power of speech. All my smart-aleck replies died on my tongue. All my reasons to resist him were drowned in an avalanche bursa escort bayan of lust. He looked into my eyes as he spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“I’m gonna get another bottle of Sambuca from the back room. You coming with?”
It was less a question than a statement: he knew as well as I did that I would follow him.
As the swing door closed behind us, Dan turned and grabbed my hips with both hands, manoeuvring me so my back was against the cupboards. I looked into his eyes again and they were dark and inscrutable. His face was suddenly serious.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time now,” he said huskily. Then he leaned in, running his fingers down the side of my face and across my lips, and kissed me.
Oh God, I knew he’d be a good kisser. I guess he’d had enough practice. His lips were soft and he was just aggressive enough. His tongue darted in and met mine, and a surge of feeling flew through me, like I was on fire. I was desperate for more of him, more kisses, more skin. I pulled away, panting, and then kissed my way down his golden brown neck, which tasted slightly salty on my tongue. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing under my lips. So gorgeous.
Dan’s hands were roaming over my bum and he was pushing me back against the cupboards, pressing his body against me. I could feel the lump of his erection hard against me, as he started to grab my skirt, pulling it up at the back. I could feel his hands sweeping over my bare skin, but as his hands ran up and met the waistband of my dress, they stopped. He pulled back and looked at me, curious, and raised an eyebrow.
“You are a bad girl Sasha. It’s almost like you wanted this.”
I gazed at him and smiled, enjoying his surprise.
“Fuck, Dan. You chase me around the tables for months on end but leave me hanging– what’s a girl supposed to do but show up in a sexy dress and no knickers?” I replied, smirking.
At that he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His hands grabbed my bum tighter and pulled my hips towards his, grinding me against him. A low growl erupted from his throat and I shivered. Skimming his hands up my arms, he reached my shoulder-straps and pulled them down roughly.
I arched my back as my breasts were exposed to the cool air, my nipples twisting into stiff, sensitive buds. I held my breath as he dipped his head down and circled my left areola with his tongue. Ohhh, it felt so good, strokes of pleasure zipping through my whole body, right down to my toes.
I held his head against me, pushing my fingers into his hair, and he sucked on me, nipping and licking like he wanted to devour me. I spread my legs a little more and his hand crept downwards, palm skimming over the surface. His fingers slid straight into the slit, smoothing over the lips, his forefinger searching out and nudging my swollen clit.
“Jeez you are so hot for this Sash, aren’t you? You’re so wet and juicy for me, I knew you would be…” he whispered into my ear, and all I could do was moan whilst his fingers busied themselves, pressing me, sliding over and over and over until I thought I would come right then and there.
Finally I found my voice. I grabbed his face with both hands and his gaze met mine.
“And you’re just hating every moment, aren’t you, Dan-the-man, although this is a bit of a give-away.” I reached down and rubbed my hand over his groin. I felt his dick throb behind the confines of his jeans.
Neither of us could stop. Neither of us cared that anyone could walk through the store cupboard door at any moment. It was just too good to be together finally, getting our hands on each other. But then, of course, someone did walk through the door. Jackson. I hoped that all he saw was Dan’s back and my head, thrown back in ecstasy. He may, of course, have seen more, but to be honest I was never going to ask.
Either way, he whistled.
“Woah…excuse me lovers!”
Then he swiftly backed out, leaving the door swinging. For some reason that seemed to change the mood. Reality had intervened. We straightened ourselves up: me pulling up my straps; smoothing down my dress, reflexively touching my face where I could feel the burn of his stubble; him buttoning up; tucking in; pulling his hair back. My pussy was throbbing. He put his fingers, covered in my juices, to his mouth and licked each of them in turn.
“You taste amazing. Don’t go thinking that’s the last of it. Definitely to… be… continued.”
He winked at me as he swung out of the room. Boom: the cocky bastard was back. I finished pulling my dress back into place and, checking the coast was clear, walked to the ladies’.
By the time I came out, everyone was clearing out of the bar – swaying between the tables, leaning over to grab their jackets, chatting in that, “Do-we-really-have-to-leave,” way which means that goodbye always lasts at least half an hour. I stood there awkwardly, checking my phone and wondering if I should head for the night bus and look like I was still running the show, or hang around on the off-chance that he meant escort bursa what he said and was up for more.
My phone beeped.
“Had to call it a night. Duty calls. OXO.”
I sighed and decided not to reply. If there was going to be more, it certainly wasn’t going to be tonight.
That weekend was a bright and sunny one, with azure blue skies and the heat of the blazing sun rising off the pavements. I had that nagging feeling that only the English summer can give you: seize the day or regret it tomorrow, when the heavens open. It was picnic time.
I picked up my phone and saw it was my voicemail. Dan’s voice, whispering.
“Hey Sash, I’m outside. Didn’t want to beep you in case your neighbours were in. You coming?”
My stomach flipped a little and I grabbed my bag, raced downstairs.
After a long, lazy picnic in the park with Jackson and Sara, his new (and very affectionate) girlfriend, I was even more worked up than I usually was when having spent time with Dan. Jackson and Sara had spent most of the time snogging, pressing themselves together on the picnic blanket and generally being obviously in love. I lay there, surreptitiously glancing at their antics from behind my sunglasses and trying to see if Dan was feeling the heat too.
So, when Dan asked if I wanted a lift home as well, of course I accepted his offer. The sky was aglow with streaks of pink, purple and red, and as we got back on the scooter, he spoke.
“My place has an amazing view – the sunset’ll look bloody fantastic from there. You wanna join me for one last drink there?”
Ok. A drink. We all knew what that meant: time for round two. Butterflies of excitement skittered around inside my tummy as I walked beside him.
A few seconds later, we were on the scooter, speeding through the sunset, the glow of the sky lighting up every street. I was dishevelled, stirred up. I could feel the heat emanating from his sun-warmed body and as I leant in, I could smell the delectable spicy scent of him. I could not wait to peel him out of those clothes and finally get naked with him.
His words from our store-room entanglement echoed in my head as we slowed to a block of flats: his place. He kicked out the stand and as I slid off the seat, he took my hand, leading me towards the door.
Inside the flat he took my helmet and set it on the sideboard. He stood there in his leather jacket looking at me, his eyes dark and serious. Looking back at him, I fumbled for the right words.
“I think-” I began, and then tailed off.
“You think too much, Sasha. Get naked.”
It was a command, growled. What was I to do but obey? I peeled off my jacket, pulled my dress up over my head and, with another glance and another nod, unclipped my bra and pushed down my silky knickers so I was standing there naked, my skin buzzing, nipples standing to attention. He still stood there, eyes roaming over me, a smile playing across his face. He walked across to me and reached out, placing his tanned brown hand against the creamy whiteness of my breast.
Before I could think any more his mouth was against my neck, his hand was pushing my legs apart and his thick finger was pushing through the puffy, swollen lips, meeting no resistance as I was already sopping wet, his thumb pressing against my clit. I felt his fingers exploring the wet folds, searching me out, and I leaned against him to increase the sensation, letting out an involuntary moan which made him press himself against me harder.
Pushing him back, I undid his shirt, ran my hands over his chest. My fingers pulled at his fly, the pop of each button marking the moment. As he kicked off his jeans I knelt down in front of him and pulled on the waistband of his boxers, freeing his cock, which was straining upwards, rigid, hot, shining at the tip. Just seeing it made my pussy convulse again, imagining him inside me, how good it would feel.
He ran his hands through my hair as I knelt and swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, opened my mouth wide to suck him. He grasped the loose strands of my hair into a ponytail in his fist, pulling and pushing my head as his cock slid back and forward in my mouth, over my tongue. I loved the feeling of him controlling me, directing my movements, and looked up to see him gazing down at me, slack-jawed with pleasure as he fucked my mouth.
After a few minutes Dan pulled me up and kissed me again, harder this time, and he guided me to the bedroom. He pushed me down onto the foot of the bed and I scooted up, towards the pillow. Advancing towards me, he laid me back and ran his hands over me, my shoulders, breasts, my belly, and over my mound, his thumbs gliding over my inner thighs, pushing them apart.
He dipped his head and kissed me just below my hipbone, and then looked up, the corner of his mouth creasing into a smile.
“You’re thinking again, Sash. Stop. You know you’re going to enjoy this.”
He leant down and pulled my lips open, concentrating as though he was splitting a ripe peach, careful not to bruise the flesh. A second later I felt the smallest tip of his tongue touch me, just at the very top where my lips start to pout out of the crease, and then slip slowly down into the slit. I exhaled, slowly, savouring the feeling of his mouth on me.
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