Putty In Her Hands (12 page)

Oh, Dawn, I don’t won’t you
to think I just come here for that.
Perish the thought.

No, but while you’re
here
, she said, sliding her fingers beneath my shirt.
You’ve
been here all this time and you’ve not noticed that I’m not wearing
any knickers.

Oh?
That certainly
caught my attention.

She rucked up her skirt a
little, exposing her slender, well-toned legs. Gently, I ran my
hand along her thigh, up and down, barely touching her skin. She
shuddered. My hand inched upwards. She kissed me hard, her hands
gripping my face, her tongue seeking out mine. With just one finger
now, I stroked the inside of her thigh, high up. She began to
squirm, wanting me to go higher still.
I’m so fucking wet for
you, hon.
No longer able to resist the temptation, my finger
brushed her clitoris. I licked my finger. She tensed up, readying
herself, opening her legs wider. I rubbed her clit in circles.
Oh God, please, hon, lick me.
I went down as ordered and
most gently, with the tip of my tongue, slowly licked the whole
length of her wet, shaved cunt, starting at the bottom and working
up. Parting her labia, I lapped at her clitoris. Her fingers
gripped my shoulders as she widened her legs still further. I
pulled back and admired what was in front of me – this beautiful
woman, still wearing her top, her nipples showing through its
fabric, her skirt pulled right up, her legs akimbo, her
cleanly-shaven cunt glistening with wetness, the inviting redness
of her hole. I had to free my cock. Out it came from my boxers,
springing free. We each played with ourselves, staring intently at
each other, our faces rapt with lust – me wanking on my shaft, she
rubbing her clit. I feared I was going to come and had to slow
down. She looked down at me to watch what I was doing, and me at
her, watching her finely-manicured fingernail painted bright purple
as it slid up and down her engorged cunt.

With my fingers wet with
pre-cum, and more dripping from my purple head, I inched forward on
my knees. She reached out for my cock, her hand tightening round
its girth and guided me towards her. I slipped a condom on. I
paused at the entrance of her hole, wanting to delay the moment of
penetration, wanting to delay the utter pleasure. A hint of a smile
flashed across her face. With that, I dived into her. The
suddenness of my movement made her scream out loud. Her eyes rolled
back. The warmth of her cunt felt divine. I began to pump – slowly.
Each time I drew back, I purposefully withdrew my cock to the knob
so that each time I went back in, it was like another plunge. It
worked; each time made her yelp, a strange high-pitched noise I
hadn’t heard before. She started to swear, saying
fuck
each
time I went in. Withdrawing, I went down on her again and lapped at
her juices like a man parched, desperate for water. I came back up
for air, my mouth soaked with her wetness. She kissed me; our lips
drenched with spittle and cunt juice. I pushed inside her again,
this time pumping harder. She started swearing again; always a good
sign. She reached behind me and gripped my arse, grinding me even
harder into her.
Go on
, she urged.
Go on, fuck me, fuck
me, shoot your cum into me, give me your cum, give it to me, give
it to me. Fuck me, fuck me
. I came quickly, grunting deep
guttural noises, pumping as hard as I could, feeling the cum
shooting out of me in delicious waves. I carried on, making sure
that I’d emptied every last possible drop from me. Finally, I
slowed down and, catching my breath, came to a stop.
Oh my God,
oh my God
, she spluttered.
That was… I don’t know. How do
you do it? You are a fucking beast. How can I ever go back to my
husband after experiencing that, you bastard?

I made to withdraw but Dawn
held me tight.
On no, not yet; I’ll be distraught. It’s too
soon.
She was still breathless.
Stay there a bit; let me
recover.
I so wanted to take it out now. No man likes to linger
too long afterwards; it feels uncomfortable somehow. But, being a
gentleman, of sorts, I stayed put, putting up with that slightly
cloying feeling. After another minute, I tried again.
Not yet, I
haven’t recovered.

Dawn, please.

Ok, if you must.

With relief, I withdrew my now
shrivelled cock. In losing its hardness, the condom had slid off at
her entrance. I pulled it away but my cum was all round her cunt.
There was so much of it. I shuddered; it wasn’t a pleasant image.
Dawn, on seeing it, screamed.
Oh fuck, what’s happened?

It’s just –

Shit, it’s everywhere. Fucking
hell, there’s so much of it, shit.

Calm down, Dawn; it’s only at
the entrance.

Oh, and you know that for sure,
do you? How do you know? How do know that half of it is not inside?
You idiot.

What?

Don’t just sit there; get me a
flannel, a wet one.

I returned from the bathroom,
having got rid of the offending condom, still naked from the waist
down and had to fight the urge to cover myself and my now tiny, red
appendage dangling between my legs.

Snatching the wet flannel from
me, she wiped away my semen.
This is no good. Fuck knows how
much is inside me. Oh God, oh my God, I can’t believe this is
happening. This is your fucking fault; didn’t you think your cock
would go down?

I… I did try to say.

Not enough though. So now what?
I get pregnant. Fuck.

Dawn, you won’t be
pregnant.

No? It doesn’t take much, does
it? One little sperm.

Well, we’ll make sure; we’ll
get one of those morning after pills.

Lovely. Don’t they have side
effects? Long-term effects on your fertility, that sort of thing?
Anyway, don’t think you’re going home after this. You can’t leave
me like this; you have to stay the night.

Fuck. Now it was my turn to
panic. There was no way I could stay the night. Either way I was
fucked, I just had to decide which would cause me least pain. I
would have to phone Emily and say I was stuck somewhere and staying
with a friend. No – it wouldn’t work. She would just tell me to
catch a taxi, wherever I was. There was no way she would believe
me; I simply had to go home.

I took a deep breath.
I’m
sorry, Dawn, but there’s no way I can stay.

You’re not fucking going home,
not now.

Dawn, I’m not working tomorrow;
I’ll be back first thing in the morning.

No, I’ll never forgive you;
you’re not leaving me, this is your fault.

I left her. I left her curled
up and in tears. I turned my back on her, walked out and left her.
What a bastard. Distraught, I returned home in misery, my heart
pounding.

Saturday 19th January

Emily woke up poorly; I so
wanted to tell her my woes but instead trembled alone in my misery.
I felt sick with worry; my stomach turning over. What had I done?
Numerous times Emily tried to talk to me but found me with my
thoughts elsewhere. If only she knew. I told her I was meeting Paul
for lunch.
On a Saturday?
she asked. Personal stuff, I said.
I received a text from Dawn, as I knew I would, saying
Meet me
at de niros at 12. Don’t let me down.
As if I had a choice. And
so I drove over, my heart thumping with dread. I had to take Lola
with me as Emily was feeling too weak to look after her. Frankly, I
was pleased. Her continual talking and humming helped eased the
pain.

Lola and I got to the café
first and took a seat right at the back. We were so early the fish
fingers and chips I’d ordered for Lola had already arrived by the
time Dawn appeared. I saw her come in, looking for me. I could
sense her fury even from a distance. On seeing me, she came
bounding over, taking long strides. This wasn’t looking good.

Oh hello, Lola.

Hello,
said Lola, waving
a chip.

So, you didn’t text me; had to
wait for me to text you first.

Sorry, it was just that –

Save it, Rob. Well, you miss
the trip to the chemist.
You should have been with me, you
bastard.
It was so humiliating.
He asked all sorts of
intimate questions. You should’ve been there to support me. It was
horrible. I felt like a slut.

Never have I felt so hated.
Oh God, I’m sorry, Dawn.

Daddy, can I have a drink?

Wait a minute, Lola.

Anyway, he gave me this
pill. I was going to take it there and then but I thought no, take
it in front of Rob. Make him see what I’m having to go through.
She took the pill in front of me, wanting me to see her putting it
in her mouth and swallowing it. It was 12.30 pm. The packet advised
that if taken with 12 hours, it had a 95 per cent chance of
working. It was now thirteen hours after the act.

What we are doing is wrong
on every level,
said Dawn, her face red with anger.
It’s
wrong on an emotional level, on a physical level, moral, spiritual,
whatever.
I must’ve been mad. I’ve got a husband who loves
me, and he doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. And you, you
weren’t even man enough to face up to your responsibilities last
night – or today. Well, I’m telling you now, if this stuff doesn’t
work, you won’t be able to run away again.

I should’ve said it then – you
kept me there in your embrace, you wouldn’t let me go. But again I
didn’t. Given her anger and that we were in a public place I didn’t
fancy my chances.

You’re lucky you’ve brought
your daughter,
she continued
, otherwise I would have
screamed this place down.
I smiled weakly at little Lola as she
toyed with a chip dipping in and out of the ketchup.

I’m sorry, Dawn, really I
am. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.
OK, what I meant here
was that I would everything to minimise the effect on my own life
and to keep her as far away as possible.

So if I’m pregnant, what
exactly will that be? Helping me get an abortion? Becoming a father
to my first child? Oh fuck, what have I done? Well, we’ll know
Friday.

Friday?
My next period. I’m never late. Never.

Dawn and I parted. I’d never
been so pleased to see the back of her. I dropped Lola off at a
friend’s house and went home. Emily, to my relief, was having a
snooze, still feeling under the weather. I paced outside on the
garden patio in the drizzle, smoking, in a daze, trembling,
frightened. Our affair was over, after only six weeks. And what a
terrible way for it to end.

Later that afternoon, I went to
the computer and read up a bit about this morning after pill, and
tried to use my new-found knowledge to ease my mind. OK, it’d been
13 hours, not 12, but heck, surely one hour wouldn’t make that much
difference? 95 per cent seemed a good success rate. I tried not to
think of the one woman in twenty. I still spent the night in dread.
Her next period, she’d said, was due Friday. I think I prayed.

Monday, 21st January

What a horrible week. Dawn was
working her final week in Ipswich and didn’t contact me. I texted a
few times, asking if she was OK, but got no response. It was
difficult to concentrate on anything – at home or at work. What if
she was pregnant? What the fuck would I do? She was a Catholic. Not
a serious one, she once told me. But you don’t have to be to
maintain the faith, and I felt when it came to something big like
this she would return to it. And I certainly lacked the courage to
ask about the ‘a’ word. I didn’t feel as if I could; to condemn an
unborn innocent just to save my bacon. If she really turned out to
be pregnant and wanted to have an abortion – fine, I wouldn’t stop
her and frankly would be relieved but there was no way I could
bring up the subject or be seen to condone such a course of
action.

So, let’s assume she was
pregnant and decided to keep it. While it would ease my conscience
on the abortion front it would fuck up everything else in my life.
How could I turn to my wife and, even worse, my children, and say
I’ve brought you a new member of the family and by the way, let me
introduce you to my other woman… I wasn’t emotionally equipped to
deal with this; it was too much for my little mind. I just wanted
to hug my wife, tell her I loved her and to tell the world to go
away. I would learn my lesson from this.

Finally, on Thursday at about
five, Dawn texted me from Ipswich:
We need to talk
.
Nervously, to the point of feeling sick, I rang her back from
outside work. It’d been a difficult week, she said, but she was OK
and experiencing the pains she usually gets a day or so before her
period. I almost collapsed to my knees with relief. We talked for
an hour and we both felt better for it. It was still lovely to talk
to her as of old. I felt perhaps we still had a future. (So much
for learning my lesson).

Friday, 25th January

Today was Dawn’s last day in
Ipswich – her job there was over. She phoned me and told me to come
round after I’d finished work.
Has your period come,
Dawn?

I can’t say over the phone.
Just come round soon as you can; we’ll speak then.