Most of my days were spent in the company of my co workers and the figments of my imagination or stopping at the building next door to say hello to Stella, the older woman from England that lives there. Her brownstone is still as original as she is and as old I think but, I adore her and she appreciates my silly stories. She constantly teases me about being an old Mum with no man in my life and I remind her that I don’t have time for love and that my career is finally taking off at the advertising firm that I got hired at in the city. She tries to show me childhood pictures of her sons and nephews in hopes that it sparks an interest. She is diligent with one of them too. He lives in England and is working on his lucrative modeling career and me in all my 5’2” glory and not so athletic body doesn’t see a future in that one.
It was a rainy almost fall day when I got off the train and headed home after I stopped at the grocery store just down from our block and I saw a black Escalade parked out front of her building. I was curious so I decided to stop up and see her. I rang the bell and she answered almost immediately. She hustled me into her place while she tugged and stripped off my wet jacket and telling me to fix my hair which was a bit of a wind blown disaster when she pulled me by my hand into her kitchen, stopped me, turned me and faced me towards her chipped painted cabinets and her doily covered kitchen table and there he sat perched on her counter.
He was looking away from me but I could see every inch of him as his long denim covered legs dangled off the old linoleum counter. He was absolutely ravishing. Stunningly handsome. Devastatingly gorgeous. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I just stared at him waiting for him to look my way. She interrupted my thoughts with an introduction and as she did he looked at me. He looked right into me. I shyly took in a breath and moved closer as to shake his hand and when I did he slid off the counter and stood so tall. His body moved with such ease and distinction towards me as he put out his hand towards me. We shook hands and he smiled as he came closer. I was nearly dead just from the sight of him but when he smiled I was sure I was 6 feet under and could hear the dirt being shoveled on my coffin. He was that beautiful. And when he spoke his accent rolled so delicately off of his tongue that I wanted to reach up to him and pull him down to me and suck on that British beak. Oh My God he was so pretty. I was so taken off guard by him and he knew it too. His gaze darkened as he closed the space between us. He could sense it as he kept talking to me and never dropped his eyes from me. He was studying me as I talked with him. His brown eyes watching my mouth as I talked. I could feel them burrowing like a mole under my skin as it warmed from the inside out. I couldn’t help but bite my lip and when I did he adjusted his stance and his eyebrow went up and I could tell he liked it. His long body leaning against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. As I spoke his lips would curl into a smile and his laugh was loud and deliberate. I watched those lips and imagined them on my neck kissing it so gently but I had a feeling his gentle wasn’t like I imagined it. Was he rough? Would he take what he wanted? Would I let him? And would I want more after he had used me up and left me molten and diffused? Oh the things that were rolling around my mind.
Stella was flitting about with her comments every now and then. I was examining his tattooed hands and how strong they looked. His forearms showing a bit as he shoved up his sleeves. I wonder how much of his body was taken over by the beautiful art decorating his lovely skin. Oh, that skin. It looked soft yet worn from the sun. I assumed he was older than me and imagined he was quite the acclaimed model in England. We discussed it a bit as I told him that my company was doing a new campaign for a cologne and I was trying desperately to find the right model for the ad. He quickly offered to do a test shoot for me and I took him up on that. He would be perfect. And I would make sure to find some way to get him out of his clothes and into that studio as soon as possible!
I realized what time it was and needed to get back with my probably now melted items and put them away. He offered to help me as I had about 6 bags and when I said no Stella jumped in and insisted he help me. So, I agreed and we gather the bags and walked down out the door and down the stairs and just over to my building. There was simple chatting about the damn rain on the way. It was coming down harder now and I was hoping I didn’t look like a drown rat with my black hair stuck to my wet skin on my cheeks. I got to the door and fumbled for my key to the building and he politely held the door open after I unlocked and I looked up at him to say thank you and when I did his hair had fallen down over his face from the rain making it heavy and he pulled his hand up to his head and ran his long tattooed fingers through it as to get it out of his face. As he did that I swear time went into slow motion as I watched him do it. I stayed under his other arm holding the door looking up at him while I licked my lips. I wanted so badly to run my tongue along his rain water laced jaw and feel his stubble with my wet red lips. He saw me looking at him and he moved me with his body and let the door shut and backed me up to the hallway wall. He asked me closely which one was mine as he nodded towards the three doors in the hallway. I swallowed hard and pointed to the one in front of us. He smiled as he moved me with his hands on my waist. Our bags knocking against each other. He took the keys from my hand and tried each one until he got the door open and he moved me inside. As soon as the door shut behind us he dropped his bags as did I and we stood there staring at one another.
“I don’t even know you” I said softly as my breathing got faster. “You don’t have to” he said as he came closer to me quickly. He unzipped his rain soaked jacket and let it drop to the floor which revealed his tattooed skin under his white tank top. His hands reaching for my jacket as I was unzipping as well. He stepped as close to me as he could with out touching me. I could smell him. He smelled of city rain and shampoo from his wet hair and his breath smelled of peppermint as he leaned in closer. His mouth just in front of mine. The air was so thick I could barely inhale but when I did it tasted like him. It felt humid and damp and hot. So hot. I was on fire as he just stood there. I had to move. I had to move with him. I put my hands on the bottom of my t-shirt and pulled it up and off and over my head throwing it on the floor. He then took a look at me up and down stopping at my red laced covered breasts. He dipped his head down to my neck. His lips burned into my flesh as he trailed kisses and licks and bites up to my mouth. I finally let my breath out hard making a sound that he reacted to as his grip around me tightened. When he came up from my neck he was smiling as if to appreciate the gesture of me removing my shirt and showing myself to him. Then, he kissed me. The kiss was powerful. Our lips were moving in a side show of lust and hunger. It was like I was trying to get every last bit of his lips with mine. I was ravenous for him. It was an obscene amount of kissing. My hands were around his neck and feeling his back then I slid them under his shirt and tugged on the bottom of it as to pull it up and off of him. He assisted me and threw it next to mine and as he did that he made a sound of relief. He wanted to be shirtless with me. He shoved his body against mine so hard that I had to take a few steps back and next thing I knew I was pinned against the door. The kissing continued and our bodies were touching so warm against each other. We were in sync with our delicious deviant debauchery. It was like we had done this before. My hands in his hair and his in mine. My fingers making a mess out of his wet locks. He told me to pull it, so I did. He smiled and groaned as I did it. His hand reaching up to mine, grasping it and telling me to do it harder and as I did he grinned and flung his head back up and the look he had was savage. He did it back to me and as he pulled my hair he dove at my neck and down to my chest. I moaned and whimpered as he made a meal out of my skin. His stubble was scratching my neck and chest. Surely it will be red and wounded. I hope so. I want to remember this. I want to remember him when I see it in the mirror. As the kissing continued he quickly turned me around and placed my hands on the door with his. My palms flat against the wood that was cool against my bare skin. He pushed against me and I could feel him. His body so firm and hard. I was trapped there by him. He told me to keep my hands there while he let go and moved his to the front of me slipping under the fabric that was left on me. I shuddered and squirmed as he told me to be still. His mouth on the back of my neck and over my shoulders. He moved further down to my back and lowered himself to his knees and told me to turn around slowly. I obeyed and looked down at him. His lips swollen and red from my lipstick and his hair a mess from my hands. I combed my fingers through it as I tried to catch my breath as he ran his hands up my legs and traced my back side with his fingers. He stayed there looking up at me and then began to pepper my stomach with kisses and before I could get my head tilted all the way back in pleasure his hands were tugging at my button and zipper on my jeans. He wasn’t stopping and I wasn’t going to ask him to. His face buried in my skin as he looked up at me with his russet cocoa eyes peering at me as if to ask if it was ok. I touched his hands with mine and with that he knew it was a go.
Soon enough it was a mere memory of two bodies left debilitated by pleasure. Emptied and expended by ecstasy. Left to lie in waste in the chalk outlines of rapture on my bed with pillows under our heads and the sheets barely able to cover our devoured and depleted figures. Our demented lecherous hunger was fed on by one another. A carnal feast of the flesh. Animalism satisfied by pure wantonness and desire. An instant infatuation of sinful indulgence and a manic need to satisfy and exhilarate each other with pleasure. And as I lay there fully quenched I have to say it was abso-fucking-lutely smashing to have finally met Stella’s lovely model son from England.
God Save The Queen!