Erotica (the collected works of Amelie) (2 page)

I wondered what I was doing. He hadn’t even
asked me to pose. I guess it was what they call an organic moment.

That was when he put the camera down.

He came over and pushed me back on the bed.

Without saying a word, he reached up to my
neck and unclasped my necklace for the second time that day.

He pulled it off slowly so that I could
feel the tiny bumps of each pearl against my skin.

He pulled it down to my cleavage and
stroked the pearls over my breasts, rounding my nipples at first in a way that
drove me wild, and then hitting the tiny, pink mountains so that they sent
waves of pleasure through my system.

Still he hadn’t touched me with his hands.

As the necklace travelled over my stomach,
I reached down to the hem of my dress and pulled the whole thing over my head
in one.

I noticed the goose-bumps all over my body.
I wanted him to lick them.

He ignored my wish.

Instead he brushed the pearls over my arms,
rubbing the inside of my elbows and my armpits as if knowing the sensitivity of
these hollows.

He threaded the necklace through my fingers
then moved quickly over my panties and down to my toes.

My toes tingled with pleasure at the
contact, as did the soles of my feet when he got there.

That’s when I realised my eyes were closed.

I opened them again when my lips parted to
gasp.

On the wall to my right, a huge black and
white photograph mounted in a thin, wooden frame. In the centre was a woman’s
cunt, the light catching in a drop of moisture which glistened at the top of
her slit. Above her pubic line, her fingers were laced together with those of a
man. I wondered who she was and whether the fingers were his. I wanted him to
make me glisten in that way.

As the pearls travelled up the inside of my
thighs, I felt my panties being pulled from me. Once they were past my ankles
and off, I parted my legs and invited him there.

The pearls seemed to notice the invitation.

They headed straight for me.

They bobbled between my labia and up to my
clit, bouncing over them and bringing every nerve ending to life.

A vibrator couldn’t have done a better job.

Up and down the pearls went, gentle then
hard and everything in between.

I wanted him inside me, and then forgot the
urge as my thighs and stomach went into spasm.

I forgot who I was.  Where I came from. My
name.

All I knew was that this was bliss. The
perfect moment in time.

The warm tingles spread through my body
again and again, throwing my body into the air and giving me the endless
pleasure of the perfect sex.

I felt my cunt’s heat radiate inside my
thighs, felt the honey dew drip down onto my delicate skin.

When it was over I shouted out.  “Ooh la
fucking la.” It was all I could think of.

The camera was in his hands again.

He took pictures of my pussy.

I imagined myself glistening in the light
that came across my body in straight lines through the blinds. Looked at the
picture again and touched myself, wanting to be mounted on the wall.

When the camera was down again, his hands
moved to his belt and slipped the leather from its buckle.

His trousers were off in one practised
movement.

I noticed his boxer shorts straining to
hold him in.

I sat up and tugged them down.

His erect cock sprang into my face.

It wasn’t the biggest I’d seen, but it was
the most beautiful.

He pushed me hard onto the bed so that I
fell back into its softness.

I reached back and clawed at the pillow,
the pain of longing almost too much to bear.

My friend straddled me.  Took his cock in
his hand and gently pulled back is foreskin so that I could see the bell of his
end.

“It’s a present.  For you,” he said, his
voice warm enough to melt my insides.

He took himself and rubbed first one nipple
and then the other.

On each of my breasts he left a slippery
trail that offered a silky glide to his penis.

He slid around me and then he rested
himself in between, right in the middle of my chest.

This time I kept my eyes open all the
while.  I wasn’t going to miss this for anything.

He took my tits in his hands and pressed
them into his cock.

I didn’t think I had it in me. Maybe the
heat had made me grow a cup-size, who knows?

He rubbed up and down, slowly at first,
then faster and faster.

The expression on his face was a joy to
behold.  He’d lick his lips and look up as if he was seeing the gods, then he’d
look warmly into my eyes as if he loved me and my tits more than life itself.

His mouth opened and I knew he was nearly
there.

I took my breasts into my own hands. Pushed
them hard and rubbed them fast.  I guess I beat him into submission.

He erupted onto me, the hot spunk pouring
down into the hollow beneath my throat and overflowing until it had taken the
shape of the necklace that had made me come only minutes before.

I saw the pleasure on his face, the
unbridled....

The door slammed.

Mike was back.

Shit.

My legs were shaking and I was feeling
hornier than I’d done for years.

God, I was like Crystal in the story, my
pussy hot and wet and needing to be filled.

I got up, ran over to my dressing table and
opened the draw.

It was such a bloody mess.

I rooted around as quickly as I could until
I found it – the fake pearl necklace I’d worn on our honeymoon.

I fumbled with the catch, my fingers
shaking with excitement and managed to get the necklace around my neck.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My tits were pert. My pussy glistened in
the light from the lamp.

Mike wanted Crystal, well he was going to
get me instead and I was about to show Crystal a thing or 2.

I’d just got back into bed when the door
opened and Mike came in.

“Hi,” he said.  It was a pretty grumpy
hello.

He reached down and started unlacing his
boots with his still greasy hands.

“What’s for tea?” he asked.

“I,” well I didn’t have an answer.  There
was nothing. “Me,” I told him, bold as brass.

“Don’t be daft.”

I’d never felt more sane. Or more
desperate. “I’m serious.” I leaned over and brushed the side of his face. “I
thought we could, you know, give it another try. And look,” I said, “I’m
wearing the pearls.”

Something must have clicked in him, because
he looked at me like he hadn’t for a while.

We kissed like we hadn’t in ages, our tongues
jousting like mythical creatures.

For once, I didn’t need to do any coaxing
and he didn’t need his book.  He was already hard and full and proud.

He was inside me before I could get the
pillow under my hips.

He thrust away and I felt his animal power
fill me up.

I came as soon as I felt his fire burst
inside me.  Big gasps escaped my mouth.

As I came to and put out my arms to hold
me, he rolled off.

“Take away is it then?” At least he was
smiling.

I watched him dressed and touched my clit.
It was electric.

And then I waited for the signs. 

I knew right then and there that I wasn’t
pregnant. And I knew right then that Mike was never going to father a child
with me even if his sperm were swimmers.

I’d just made love to a man from the pages
of a book. A gorgeous French man who took photographs for a living.

And Mike? He’d just fucked Crystal and even
for her he’d been too lazy to take the necklace from her neck.

Yes, they’d have a take-out in front of the
TV and then they’d go to sleep.  And in the morning she’d pack her bags,
jewellery and all, and say goodbye to her pokey council flat in Peckham for the
last time.

First thing she’d do when she got to her
sisters would be to book a flight to somewhere nice.  Spend the money they’d
been saving for their kid. Go somewhere romantic. Wondered how much it would
cost for a ticket to France.

the
end

and
the beginning ;)

S
kye had forgotten how cold it could
get back in her Scottish homeland. A whole term at University in the temperate,
city climate of London had softened her up. Meant she wasn’t ready for the
freezing Edinburgh air. The Big Smoke to Auld Reekie in 4 hours and it was like
she’d crossed some kind of invisible line from one continent to another.

She stepped from the train and let go of
her suitcase and blew into her hands to give them as much warmth as she could
before setting off.

Craig was there to meet her as promised. He
had his beanie hat pulled over his ears and his jeans falling way down below
his waist so that the top of his boxer shorts were showing. ‘Nice Ass’ they
said in pink, right next to a print of a braying donkey.

“Very funny,” she said as she fell into his
embrace.

“Aye, nice to see you too,” he said, his
grin broader than his stickman shoulders. “Welcome back.”

Their lips met. He tasted of a sweet mix of
beer and the mango lip-salve she’d left him with so he wouldn’t forget her
while she was away.

Craig slipped his tongue into Skye’s mouth.
She was ready for it. Hungry for the taste of his metal stud. The sensation
made her dizzy and she fell into his arms to a warming cuddle.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him. “Let’s get
a cab and go back to yours. See if we can’t do something about that hard-on
you’ve brought along with you.”

Truth was she had an itch of her own that
needed scratching.

She’d been faithful after a fashion. No sex
with anyone else, or at least there’d been no penetration. She’d had a few
snogs after hours in the student union bar and she’d swallowed the occasional
mouthful of ejaculate when things had gone further than she’d planned. Then
there was the head Simon Moore had given her after they’d popped pills on the
afternoon of the University Challenge prelims and then again at the Halloween
party. Simon was with some other chick now, so that was all in the past. Didn’t
matter in the slightest. She was home and she was with her boyfriend and this
was going to be the finest Christmas either of them had ever had.

The foreplay took place in the taxi under
the watchful eye of the driver, who loved little more than chauffeuring horny
couples around the city - to think they even gave him a tip into the bargain.
Craig had managed to get his hand right down into Skye’s jeans and had found
her clit as if it were as easy to locate as a shiny beacon on a very dark
night. Skye had come within seconds, which had as much to do with the fantasies
she’d been working through on the train as it did with Craig’s dexterity.

The cabbie dropped them off and they’d
hardly made it in through the front door of their pokey Barony Street flat
before they’d undressed each other.

Craig was inside before they reached the
bedroom. He took her standing against the wall. As he pumped away, Skye dug her
nails into his firm buttocks and gasped until she felt she might die of
asphyxiation.

When he came inside her and she felt his
heat warm up her womb it was like he’d pressed a switch that was connected to
her legs. Her thighs shook uncontrollably, her calves spasmed with delight and
her knees trembled as though the floor was shaking beneath them.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Craig said. “Happy
bloody Christmas darling.”

The couple slid to the floor and fell into
the side of Sky’s suitcase while they caught their breath and laughed about how
good they were together.

To earn some extra cash Skye needed to
be up bright and early next day.

Needless to say, Craig wanted a quickie
before he headed out to his own job at the bank. Skye was pretty fond of a
swift shag in the morning too. Her dreams would make her wet so that when she
awoke she was ready for anything. She liked the fact that there was no hanging
around and it was all just straight to the business of getting it on.

Craig was inside her before she’d opened
her eyes.

He tried to take it easy at first, like an
old-fashioned romantic, but after a few thrusts he was at it like a woodpecker
on speed.

“God, I love your pussy Babe,” he shouted
just as he came.

Just hearing the words pussy and Babe in
the same sentence was enough for Skye. The orgasm pulsed from her clit like
waves of electricity, exciting every part of her body and sending her into a
quiver. Her stomach did so many contractions that she wouldn’t need to bother
with her crunches that day. Sexercise, she thought, was so much more fun than
jogging and probably better for the joints.

Craig disappeared into the bathroom for a
while and Skye just lay there playing idly with herself. Her clit was sensitive
after the night of passion, so she was extra gentle. When it got too much,
she’d move her fingers down and inside so that she could keep the bliss going.
No way she was going to cum, but there were still glows passing through her
body like tiny strikes of lightning.

Craig came out wearing his suit and tie
with his hair gelled flat into a long fringe. He looked good even when he was
dressed for work. Skye would have taken him again if there had been time.

He kissed her, picked up his bag and rushed
out of the door. That left Skye with a couple of hours before she had to get to
work.

Craig’s dad, Mario, had featured
heavily in Skye’s life long before she knew that Craig existed.

His sweet shop had been the centre of
attention for her and her sisters when they were young. It was the kind of
paradise that only seemed possible to a child.

They’d save their behaviour points all week
and then, if they’d all been good, they’d get their 2 quid and head off.

They spent an age at each visit. Hours
sometimes. They’d check out all the jars and bars and maybe sneak the odd taste
when they thought they could get away with it.

However long it was, they always ended up
with a 10p mixture each and a couple of bags of something special. Bonbons were
Skye’s favourite. Alice loved boiled sweets and Petra was pretty much into
anything.

They carried on going in well into their
teens. By then it was just an occasional treat on the way back from shopping.
Irn Bru creams or Lemon Sherbets made for a tasty suck on the way home to the
Bridges.

By then they all had a crush on Mario. He
was so different to any of the teenage boys they fooled around with. Kind of
exotic and all-knowing.

His dark skin and Italian accent were part
of the charm, but that wasn’t it entirely. Nor was it just that he worked in
the most wonderful world the girls could imagine. It had something to do with
his dark eyes and they way they always looked alert and alive when they were
there. He could tell them anything with just a look and he’d always call them
great things like Bambini and Honey and Darling.

And then Skye met Craig.

After that, she was more interested in
getting high and partying than confectionary, so she didn’t get to the shop as
a customer at all.

Craig would walk her through from time to
time as they went upstairs to the flat, picking a handful of something to chew
on when they watched telly or when they got the munchies.

She’d still see Mario when he finished
downstairs, but his wife had just left him to fly back to Italy with a baker
from Valvona and Crolla and he pretty much kept himself to himself.

When Mario offered Skye the job over the
Christmas holidays, she was surprised but wasn’t going to say no. Her student
debt was already spiralling out of control and the only way for her to cut back
was to have less fun, something she just wasn’t prepared to let happen.

As she walked down the hill, she was
reminded of the history of the city around her.

Edinburgh seemed so old. So drab. Greys and
browns filled the view, exaggerated by the pale skin and washed out look of the
people who wandered by. It was a complete contrast to the vibrant energy of
London with all its bustle and colour. In spite of the drab shades of the Royal
Mile, she still felt more at home in the chilly Scottish air than in England’s
clammy capital.

At the top of Cockburn Street, she paused
for a while.

The baked potato shop had been one of their
haunts, as had the top of the ancient stairway that was the quick route back to
the railway station. It was still too early for any of her Goth mates to be in
town, but she’d check back at lunch time to see if any of them were still
hanging around.

She headed down the hill until she got to
the sweet shop.

It looked as enticing as ever, the gold
paint announcing Mario’s above the window and the Christmas display was cute
enough to have been from an old movie.

There was fake ski slope with tiny fairy
lights illuminating the scene. A ski lift made its perpetual journey to the top
and miniature skiers slalomed down until the disappeared underneath only to
return to the peak a few moments later to start their journey again.

Cotton wool covered the rest of the scene,
covered with white bonbons and Christmas stockings over-flowing with chocolate
bars of all shapes and sizes.

Above them all was a huge, neon Santa who
beamed down a smile that would cheer even Scrooge himself.

Skye took a deep breath and pushed open the
door.

The bells jingled as she went in and there,
standing behind the counter, was Mario.

He looked older than she remembered, a
little greyer around the temples and with enough salt in his stubble to spoil a
bag of chips. All the same, he looked better than ever. Sexier. More
distinguished. More experienced than the young men she was used to knocking
around with.

As soon as he saw her, his face broke into
a huge smile. It was enough to give Skye a tiny wobble in the knees and she
wasn’t sure whether it was from the sex of the night before or simply due to
the magnetism of the man before her.

Not even her white make-up could disguise
the blush in her cheeks.

“Skye, let me get a look at you.” Mario was
straight over from behind the counter and eying her up and down. A whistle
escaped his lips. “University life obviously suits you, princess.” He took her
hand and raised it to his lips. As he kissed, he made the slightest of bows.
“You taste like candy. Sweet as a strawberry and nice enough to eat.”

There went Skye’s knees again.

As their gazes connected for the first
time, Skye knew. Knew straight away that the old crush of hers had jumped right
back into her life. What she wasn’t sure of was whether she should stay or run
out of the door and keep running until she was safely home. In the end, it was
easier to stay. And was going to be one hell of a lot more fun, she was sure of
it.

She enjoyed her first day so much that she
could hardly believe she was getting paid for being there.

A steady stream of customers were lured in
by the window display. Mario and Skye played a guessing game every time someone
stopped to look at the ski slope, predicting what they might order. She had to
hand it to Mario, he certainly knew his trade.

When things grew quiet, there were other
games to keep them busy.

Skye’s favourite was the taste test.

Mario would sit her on the wooden stool and
slip an old British Airways blindfold over her eyes. When she was comfortable,
he’d get her to open her mouth and he’d pop a sweet in there for her to
identify. For every one she got right, Mario promised her little rise in her
Christmas bonus. He’d give her more if she could identify the sweets simply
from having them rubbed onto her lips or from having to reach out and touch
them with the tip of her tongue.

She managed to get pretty much all of them
right. It looked like her debt mountain would soon be a molehill if things
carried on like that.

By the time it was dark outside, business
doubled.

Commuters came in for their regular sugar
fix on the way to the station. It got so busy for a while that Skye lost
something of her calm.

It was when a solid gentleman in a bowler
had left without his 2 ounces of peppermint creams that she realised her first
mistake. She had to leave the counter and run after him, offering free sweets
the next time he was in. The old guy was a real diamond. All he wanted was a
kiss on the cheek and everything was forgiven.

Mario wasn’t quite so kind.

When Skye returned, he’d put the ‘Closed’
sign into the door window half an hour earlier that he should have.

In the middle of the floor, the stool was
waiting for Skye.

“Sit,” Mario said with authority. “If we
make mistakes like that every day, there won’t be a shop to look after anymore.
It’s a lesson you need to learn.”

Skye sat down and felt a little nervous as
Mario pulled down the blind on the back of the door.

“Put your hand out,” Mario said.

She did so without question.

“This is what I do to all the bad girls.”
Mario took his arm from behind his back and revealed a fistful of strawberry
whip. He raised his arm then pulled it down fast, the strawberry whip whistling
through the air until it slapped into Skye’s palm.

Skye felt a little sting in her fingers and
a tiny heat between her legs.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” Mario said,
and they both burst into laughter as he went on and on with his lashes until
the confectionary had fallen into bits.

That evening in Craig’s Barony Street
flat there was take-away pizza from Umberto’s and a feast of shagging for
dessert.

Skye joined in with a little more zest than
usual, imagining a thrashing from a strawberry whip as she let her boyfriend
bang her from behind. It helped her that she couldn’t see Craig’s face,
allowing her to substitute the image of him for some of the men she’d served
during the day and occasionally for Simon Moore.