He turns to look at me. Eyes narrowed.
‘I’ve never had sex sober.’
I shake my head.
And he shakes his head in amazement. ‘We must remedy that.’
‘At least for this time, the first time,’ I plead.
‘All right, bring your glass.’
We go into the living room. The late evening light has turned the room red gold. On the horizon the sun is a large ball of red. He sits on one sofa and I take the one adjacent to his. I don’t know why I am suddenly so nervous. Maybe it is him. He is so dangerously male. The breadth of him, the way his legs are open wide and claiming all that space.
I take a huge gulp of wine. He says nothing. I glug down another large mouthful. And another. There is another last bit left. I knock that back. He is watching me curiously, as if I am a totally different species from him.
‘No.’ I haven’t eaten and I am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. In a few minutes I know I will be wasted. In fact, the effect of the alcohol is already beginning to pour into my veins. Making me light-headed, brave.
‘Come over here,’ he says.
I stand up and go sit next to him.
‘Go on,’ he invites. ‘Show me what you can do.’
I frown. ‘I thought you were going to teach me things. What Yehonala did and all that. You know, seduction techniques?’
‘This is our first time. No techniques are necessary. The first time you go to bed with any man, the novelty factor will sail you through. Nothing like the first time.’
Boldly, I put my hand on his thigh. An odd sensation in my stomach. Must be guilt. Oh God! Jack. For a moment there I had completely forgotten him. I pull back instantly. I lick my lips. ‘Do you have condoms?’
I peek up from beneath my lashes. ‘I might need more drink,’ I say, even though my tongue is already numb with alcohol.
He shakes his head.
‘Can we at least have less light?’
‘Come on,’ he says and, getting up, pulls me up by the hand. I stand tipsily and nearly stumble. He looks at me curiously. I flash a brilliantly bold smile. He takes me to his bedroom and closes the blinds by pushing a button on the wall. The curtains are dark wood and the room is immediately thrown into gloom.
‘Dark enough for you?’ I hear the sex and heat in his voice.
‘I think so.’
‘Relax. It’s only sex.’
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’
The pause is almost imperceptible. ‘Quit stalling, Sugar.’
I did not realize that he had moved, but he must have, because his hands are around my waist. He smells clean: shampoo and soap. His breath is warm against my neck. I catch the scent of the beer, the meat, and the mash he has consumed. The faint whiff of beer reminds me of that disastrous time with Keith, his breathless grunts, the wet slop of his spunk sliding off my belly.
‘I can’t do this,’ I whisper, and try to pull away.
‘Pretend I’m him,’ he says, and I freeze.
In my head I enter into a fairy tale. I need to enter the forbidden garden to get the forbidden fruit. To awaken him from his deep slumber so he can escape the clutches of the wicked queen. I feel his hands untying the belt of the robe. I clutch at the edges of the robe. He pulls them away from my grasping hands. Underneath I am naked.
‘Your mouth is saying no, but your body is dying for it, Sugar.’ His voice is low and seductive.
Temptation floods into me. My breath becomes erratic. I let go of the material. The robe gapes. I am being turned around to face him. His hands are rough but warm. They span my waist. One hand moves upwards and cups my breast. I close my eyes and pretend I am with Jack, but it is impossible. I know I am with Vann. Vann is too large, too magnetic, too golden, too individual, too exciting for me to pretend he is someone else.
‘Jack,’ I whisper, as if saying his name will make Vann less and him more.
Vann says nothing, simply brings his mouth down on mine while the hands around my waist firmly pull me in so my br**sts are crushed into his torso. Something hard presses into my belly. That’s one massive erection you’ve got there, mate.
He takes my fleshy lower lip between his lips and pulls me closer to him. Helplessly my chin lifts. He lets go and starts to kiss me. His lips are softer than I expected. He kisses me as if he is tasting my lips, gently, thoughtfully, almost experimentally.
He opens my mouth with his lips and… Oh! but Vann. He is wet and hot and velvety.
We kiss. We kiss.
All of a sudden sex with a stranger in a dark room becomes insanely desirable. Fucking irresistible. I am no sex kitten but I feel daring, erotic, different. Inside my body, fiery flares of desire are shooting into my brain.
A vixen with needs emerges, fully formed and ravenous for fleshy spoils. She couldn’t give two hoots about Jack or my great love for him. All she wants is for this enigmatic stranger to f**k her. Hard. In this vast and anonymous flat she knows she can scream as much as she wants. With this stranger who has witnessed her complete humiliation she doesn’t have to pretend to be someone she is not. She can be her ugly self. In this dark there is no one to judge her.
She wraps her arms around that stranger’s thick neck and pushes her bare body against the gloriously unfamiliar hard planes of his, and feverishly sucks the tongue that is in her mouth. But he holds himself back; he is teasing her, controlling the pace of their kiss, exciting and enhancing the vixen’s anticipation.
So the vixen bites the man’s withdrawing lower lip and drags her teeth along it making him gasp with surprise and pleasure. Daringly her hands cup the man’s tight bu**ocks, and pull him towards her. She is very strong and the man groans with the realization.
By now the vixen has got used to the dim and can clearly make out her lover’s face. His eyes are full of lust, feral lust.
‘You’re bad, Sugar.’
The vixen smiles knowingly. He picks her up in one easy movement and takes her to the bed. When he has put her on the bed, he begins to unzip his trousers. The vixen draws the soles of her feet closer to her body and lets her knees fall open. With her body arched and her sex exposed, the wanton vixen leaves and Sugar waits to be ravished.
Without clothes he is indescribable. I mean, it’s not like I have never seen men like this, I have, but only in magazines. Never thought one of them would be leaning down, his hands on either side of me and running his tongue from the hollow of my throat down to my breast bone. His mouth closes around my nipple. And he sucks it.