The Monday Girl free porn video

It was my last day in Pennsylvania. The travel piece, 20,000 words on why the state was as culturally rich as it’s more popular near neighbour New York, (a presumption I thought I would struggle to validate but I had surprised myself and managed to give the place an ego boost) was emailed to my editor back in London leaving me a few days grace before the pedant came back with his endless notes and ideas to improve the article. We then engage in our customary email exchange where I quietly disavow him of his inane suggestions. Like most things, one’s instinct is usually more truthful and more rewarding than constant deliberation. It is the risk takers and the foolhardy who often have more fun, as I, much to my surprise, was soon to discover.

Stephanie, the photographer they had assigned, had left this morning. She had been an interesting travelling companion, adventurous but fairly dizzy, forever disappearing as soon as the day’s work was done, then turning up bleary eyed the next day with no explanation of her night’s activities. She had managed to leave her bag at the hotel which I would now have the pleasure of hauling back home for her. So now I was alone in Pittsburgh, but the city was mine for one more day and night.

I knocked around downtown, browsing for second hand books. A penchant of mine, I try to pick up something in every city I travel to - must be second hand and, ideally, have the original owner’s name jotted inside the cover - a hint at the book’s history. I found a dog eared, two dollar copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover that had been owned by a certain Mary Smithson. I imagined Mary as a young girl, turning each page with anticipation, her cheeks flushed as she read, the words seducing her, thrilling her, and wondered how she might be fairing now, long time married perhaps, her useless husband neglectful.

I wandered next through Saks, and found myself crossing the velvet rope that was hung across the Prada concession, with it’s gleaming counters, thick pale carpets and it’s air of privilege. Some ex model type Italian guy was the guardian of the rope, with his black suit and earpiece like he might be guarding the President rather than a few racks of women’s dresses. He gave me the once over as I passed him. I could tell he wasn’t impressed. My old Levis were worn and faded, my high top converse didn’t cut it with him, nor my faded linen jacket over my crisp white T. He was used to the be-suited bland hedge fund managers who would casually stuff a greasy 20 in his hand without looking up from their Blackberrys. My matey nod and genial ‘hello’ which I imagined he would prefer, met with an icy stare.

The Prada girls are better. They swish around in sumptuous fabrics, tottering on high heels, the straps and lines of bras and slips and stockings, drawing themselves through tight blouses and pencil skirts. They maintain the pretense of entitlement, belying their life out of this little chapel of luxury, where it’s sweatpants and vest tops and swigging on a beer on a Friday night.

I started picking my way through the dresses, looking for something for my wife. Mario, the rope dude, kept a beady eye on me until his head was turned when Mr. Derivatives waltzed in with his plastic wife. I picked up a few dresses, (I have a decent eye for women’s clothes, always have done, something I was once told is surprisingly unexpected in a man) enjoying the feeling that I had no plans, I could do what I like.

Glancing up I noticed a woman flicking through some jackets. The store was quiet and she was casually looking around, relaxed, unhurried. Something about her drew me and I found myself rooted, stock still watching her as she flitted from rail to rail, her hands feeling the fabric more than looking at the clothes. ‘Day off’, I thought to myself as I watched her. Her long dark hair tied in a simple pony, she was wearing what I imagined were her oldest and most favourite pair of jeans, with Birkenstock sandals, a Dries Van Noten T shirt I recognised from one of my many shopping trips under a grey cashmere cardigan, with a Mui Mui canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Her skin had a Mediterranean glow, her jewelry understated and when she walked passed me, her scent was intoxicating. She carried a very relaxed air about her, as casual as you like, but with an elegance and sophistication that went before her.

“Which one do you like?” She was talking to me. I turned and fell helplessly into her eyes, those dark pools mesmerizing and inviting like a cool lagoon. Her smile was broad, her voice soft.
“I’m sorry?”
“The dresses?”
I looked down and realised how ridiculous I must have looked, holding aloft a dress in each hand.
“Oh. These? Yes, shopping for my wife. A little present”
“Ah” she said. And I was crazy. Searching for meaning in that one word, like she might be disappointed that I am married, my mind racing like a schoolboy when the cute girl speaks to him.
“You’re not from round here then?”
“No. London”
“Really?”
“Yes” Then I got her.
“Well Scotland originally. Guess the accent is pretty obvious. It’s strange, everyone I meet in this country seems to have been Scottish at one time.”
She laughed. It was lovely, unexpected and even Mario scowled over.
“Hey, well here’s another Celt. I’m Siobhan”
“You must have fun when people write your name down” I said.
“If I had a dollar for very time I’m asked ‘is that Siobhan with a V?’....So which do you like?”
I glanced at the dresses.
“If I have to choose, usually the least expensive is how I call it.” I said.
She shook her head and again her delightful laugh reverberated through the hushed atmosphere. She had a confidence and ease about her which made me feel instantly at home with her.
“Let me try them for you...”

Before I could fully process the startling nature of her remark, she grabbed the dresses from me and walked towards the dressing rooms.
“Help you choose the right one, not just the cheapest”
“I’m not sure the word ‘cheap” has ever been uttered in here. I am sure they have some elaborate system where money leaves your account as soon as you step on the carpet.” I was babbling as I followed her easy stride to the dressing room.
“Wait here” and she disappeared.

I looked around, the Prada Goddesses floated by, offering me smiles, like I am just some guy out shopping with his wife. I tried to look nonplussed as I nodded back at them, all the time my head spinning.

The curtain opened and Siobhan walked out in one of the dresses. It was a wrap affair and the cloth clung to her body as she walked over to the shoes, picked a pair of killer heels and eased her feet into them. Now standing tall, her slender legs with their soft cinnamon glow, she walked towards me, the dress opening over her thigh, toned and perfect.

“I like this” she said “ it falls well and it feels sexy.” She ran her hands over her body, pulling the dress here, smoothing it down there, and I was captivated. She turned, regarded herself from behind and threw me a smile before going back into the dressing room. She pulled the curtain but left it some inches short and I glimpsed her as she loosened the tie on the dress. I was rapt, unable to look away. She slipped it from her, still tall in her heels. She was wearing soft sheer underwear, Calvin Klein I imagined. A thong with a neat mesh front in the palest green, the bra the same sheer with tiny bows on the straps. Her breasts were round and full, the bra pulling them together, her nipples dark against the netting. The straps of her bra lifted from her body as they came over her shoulders, the soft weight of her breasts making them strain. Her stomach was tight and the top of her panties stretched across her hips, that strap too lifted off her body where her hips indented to lead down into her. She turned. There was another bow on the back of her thong as it plunged, her ass quite the most perfect roundness, with a gentle movement as she bent to pick up the next dress. She pulled it on and suddenly she turned. Had she seen me watching?

“Help me with the buttons?”
She pulled the curtain more, looked at me, the smallest of smiles played on her full lips, and I stepped in. The dressing room was nothing like the usual cubicles at Gap, but had a chair, a rail and a full wall of mirror.
“Can you do me up?”
She reached up to pull her hairband out as I started to close up the buttons. The dress was a cool blue drill cotton with buttons all the way up the front. As I closed them, my hands glanced her skin, soft on her thigh. As I fastened the final ones, the backs of my fingers brushed over her breasts and I could feel the almost imperceptible movement as her nipples stirred under the fabric. My mouth was dry. She stood close, our mouths inches apart and her scent filled me, so completely feminine as to be almost other worldly to me. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders and her mouth opened slightly, she held my gaze for a moment then turned to the mirror. I seemed to breathe for the first time in minutes. She looked at herself in the mirror. I stood behind her. Again she ran her hands over the dress, adjusting it and smoothing it but this time, she lingered over her breasts and round her hips..like her hands were mine.
“This is the one” she said, her voice quiet and low.
She leant back against me and I could feel the shape of her bottom against me. And then I felt the blood rushing. I could feel myself starting to stiffen against the cleft of her as she rocked slightly, feeling me grow. She stepped away. Maybe she had brushed against me accidentally, maybe she hadn’t, I didn’t seem to knowing anything at that moment.
“I’ll let you get changed”
She started unbuttoning the dress as I turned to leave.
“You’re ok here” She said as she stepped out of the dress and I couldn’t help my eyes darting again over her body, her nipples now pushing against her bra and her throat had reddened slightly. She kicked off the shoes and pulled her jeans on, lifting onto her toes as she pulled them over her hips.
“Can you pass my shirt?”
She left her jeans unbuttoned, the belt buckle pulling them open, her underwear inviting. I passed her shirt and as she stretched up to pull it over her head, her stomach lengthened and her breasts rose and fall, her whole body rippling like the leanest of the big cats.
“I’d better pay” I turned and opened the curtain.
“Just stuff them in a bag and run.” She offered, casually.
I looked round at her and she read my confusion, laughing at the thought that I might think she was serious.
“You’re funny” she said as she pulled on her sandals and grabbed her sweater.

At the cash desk I found myself being relieved of nearly $1500 as I decided that both dresses deserved to be liberated from this fashion zoo, trying to convince my racing mind that I wasn’t just buying them for the hope of the lingering fragrance of this woman. I heard Siobhan share a word with one of the Prada Sirens, then she was at my side as we walked to the escalator.
“So when are leaving?’
“Tomorrow morning” I replied.
“And where are you staying?’
“The Hilton” I said. “ You know it? They’re trying to impress me. Keep leaving me fruit baskets”
“Yes I know it. I swim there sometimes” She smiled as I held the door for her.
“Thanks” I began “ Never had a strange woman try on dresses for me”
“Do you think I’m strange?” She smiled. She was smart this cookie. She leaned into me.
“I write a diary. But only one day a week. Monday is my day for myself, I head out into the city and I see what happens. Then I come home and write my diary of just that day.”
She fascinated me. I gazed deep into those eyes as she talked.
“You never know. You might just make an entry”
She raised an eyebrow. The pun she had, it seemed, intended and now it was me who was laughing. She then came close, her hand grabbed my belt and she gently pulled me to her. She lifted her head and kissed me softly on the cheek. She then turned, grabbed her phone out of her bag and wandered down the sidewalk. I watched her go and after a minute, without looking round, she waved. She had caught me, knowing I would have been watching her. The lunchtime workers and shoppers crisscrossed and amongst the throng, she disappeared.

2.

I had swam in the hotel pool everyday since I had been there. The pool and spa were handsomely decorated in cool marbles, the rooms quiet and luxurious. I found that late afternoon was the quietest and in my last three visits, I had the place to myself. My usual routine was thirty lengths of the pool and quick blast in the sauna. I would drift off as I lapped the pool, stories forming, plots twisting. It was proper thinking time, but there was only so much that was useful. That afternoon as I turned in the empty pool, I k**ded myself that the reason I was on my fiftieth lap was because my mind was running with a new story.

Then I heard her.
“Well, fancy seeing you here”

Siobhan walked out of the changing room, pulling her hair into a a hairband. She was wearing a dark blue one piece swimming costume cut high on her leg and tight across her body. Her countenance was relaxed, her eyes still captivating and her smile still a killer.
“You been here long?” She said as she dipped a polished toe into the water.
“Just got here” I lied and a smile formed on her lips like she knew. She then dove into the water and swam the length of the pool underwater.

We swam a while then hit the sauna. We talked easily and found books we liked, movies we loved and disagreed playfully about music, my British taste of course superior, but she was having none of it. The steam rose after Siobhan threw a ladle of water over the coals and we felt the sweat prick from our skin. We sat back on the wooden bench, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden increase in temperature. The quiet was broken by the door creaking open. A woman in her early forties, red corkscrew hair falling over her shoulders, stepped in. She had a towel wrapped round herself and seemed surprised to see us.
“Oh. Hi”
She climbed up onto the bench adjacent to ours. We all sat for a moment.

“Usually never anyone in here at this time” The woman offered after a while.
“That will explain the towel” Siobhan replied.
“Well...yes” The woman looked sheepish as she pulled her towel round her.
“Please” Siobhan smiled “feel free, don’t worry about us”
The woman nodded, still unsure.
“I’m Siobhan and this is..” A tiny glance and I realised she didn’t know my name. “I’m Al” I smiled. Siobhan continued.
“He’s British but don’t worry he’s not that buttoned up type from the South, he’s a Highlander” The woman laughed.
“You can take it off honey” Siobhan said, direct but with a smile that immediately relaxed the other woman.
“I’m Ann” She said as she untied her towel. She placed it on the bench and sat with her back against the wall. She had large heavy breasts with small rosebud nipples, her skin pale as porcelain, her tummy round and she had soft red curls between her legs. Siobhan had no problem with staring at Ann, regarding her body, taking it in then smiling as if to let her know that she liked her, wanted her to feel relaxed. We sat in silence, the odd creak and hiss from the coals as the sweat started to run in little rivulets down our bodies.

“I need to cool off” Siobhan hopped down and nipped out. I could hear the shower turn on and a little gasp as the freezing water hit her body. She came back in, her swimming costume now clinging to every curve of her body, gleaming with water. She ran her hands through her hair.

“Think I’ll join you Ann” Siobhan said as she peeled her costume off one shoulder, then the next and wriggled out of it. Her nipples were dark and hard from the cold water, her skin the deep colour of her heritage. The water ran down her exquisite body, nestling into her little triangle of hair that led down to her dark smooth labia, her legs strong and her feet delicate. Ann watched her as she arranged her towel next to me on the bench. Ann then laid down, with the soles of her feet flat on the bench, her knees up and her thighs together. I watched her heavy breasts settle as she lay. The water dripped. The steam rose. It was quiet and peaceful and part of me couldn’t quite believe I was sitting here, these visions beside me.

After a moment, I glanced round and noticed Siobhan’s hand casually graze against Ann’s leg at her ankle. She did it again, and this time Ann let out a breath. Siobhan, eyes closed and sitting upright at Ann’s feet, now lengthened her stroke, gently extending her reach round Ann’s calf. She took her time, gently caressing her for minutes until Ann slowly dropped one knee down, away from the other, the way a book might fall open and revealed herself to Siobhan. Ann closed her eyes as Siobhan’s hand circled slowly up her leg with a measured pace, stroking, massaging her calf, then behind her knee, next forming long strokes up Ann’s thigh, nearer and nearer her centre but without getting there. Ann bit her lip, anxious, her breathing quickening and then she opened her eyes. As she looked up at her, Siobhan took this cue and her fingers gently pushed their way onto Ann’s pussy. She toyed with her for a while, her strokes small, easing Ann’s pussy lips open and she glistened as her wetness was coming. Ann reached up, her hands taking in her large breasts and pushing then together, her fingers tugging on her nipples as Siobhan’s fingers quickened. Siobhan turned to me, her face inscrutable, but her skin now flushed, her tongue on her lips. I was mesmerised, my mind nowhere near catching up to what was happening. Siobhan turned and got up on knees and opened Ann’s legs wide. She eased her head down and nestled her face in Ann’s willing pussy. I could hear Ann’s wetness as Siobhan’s tongue darted over her hardening clit. Siobhan’s chestnut ass was raised facing me, the deep dark colour of her pussy towards me, her perfect roundness was astonishing and I found my hand gently slighting on the small of her back. Just as I moved my hand down, she reached behind me and grabbed my wrist. She lifted herself up from Ann, swept her hair from her face and stared at me. I was panicked, like I had over stepped a line, had not been invited. But Siobhan, this enigma, this beauty, simply smiled.
“I want you to watch us”

She led me over to the bench opposite, then standing in front of me, she slid down my body and grabbed the waistband of my shorts. She pulled them over my raging cock. Hard and erect, it stood before me, long and solid. Siobhan looked it, staring but not touching.
“Nice cock” She said moved back to Ann. “Do you like it?”
“Mmm” Ann’s voice was breathless, she stared at me too and I found my hand wrapping round the shaft as I stared to stroke it for them. Siobhan climbed onto the bench on top of Ann and their mouths were together. Their tongues soft, exploring as the kissed, gently for moments than hard and fast. Ann’s china white skin contrasted with Siobhan's dusky glow as I watched their hands find each others bodies. Siobhan moved down and starting sucking hard on Ann’s nipples. She groaned and leant her head back, letting Siobhan’s mouth have her stiff pink nipples. Siobhan reached down and her fingers slipped into Ann’s pussy, fingering her, pushing in, circling and stroking her glistening cunt. And then Ann was matching her, their fingers quick and alert, their breathing fast and their gentle moans syncopating with their pleasuring. Siobhan lifted herself up and offered a nipple to Ann’s eager mouth. She licked it, toying, watching it grow and stiffen then sucked on it greedily. The women then crossed over each others legs and their pussys met like lover’s mouths and their hips fell into a easy rhythm as their clits rubbed together. They both then turned to me, watching me stroking my cock, their eyes fixed on the head as my foreskin eased over it, the deep red imbued with the dew of my precum. My cock felt harder than it had ever done, like every ounce of energy was focused on it. The girls kept watching but after a moment, their Sapphic desire, that instinct they had for each other bodies, took over and Siobhan turned around and buried her face back between the red curls of Ann’s pussy. Siobhan turned and lowered her own wetness down for Ann’s tongue, long and precise as she licked her clit. The women’s breathing increased and Ann’s eyes closed - and soon that unstoppable force, that electric surge, the wave of her orgasm, was riding to her as Siobhan’s tongue worked her clit and suddenly Ann was moaning hard, her thighs tight, her cunt flooding and then she was cumming....shuddering, willing Siobhan to stop, her clit burning from her tongue as her orgasm shook her, filling her.
“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop” Ann was moaning. She writhed under Siobhan's touch as she came. Then Siobhan gently slowed, knowing the tingle that ran across Ann’s body like a current. Ann was spent and lay, her legs open, her breasts soft as Siobhan lifted herself up, her fingers gentle on Ann’s skin, running her hands in long strokes down her legs. She turned to me.
“Oh poor Al” She smiled. “No ones playing with him” Ann turned her head and looked at me.
“Do you want to try him Ann?” Siobhan looked at her.
“You don’t mind?” Ann’s voice was quiet.
“I’d like to watch you” Siobhan said and Ann spun her legs off the bench and walked towards me. Her heavy tits softly bouncing, her nipples still hard and inviting. I looked over as Siobhan sat back on the bench and lifted one leg up, the other splaying out and I watched her as her fingers found her smooth pussy and she spread her lips for me, showing me how wet she was. It was a very bitter sweet moment, the image of her, I knew, would be indelibly etched into my brain, but I couldn’t touch her, feel her. Her finger slipped into her cunt, then she rested it over her clit and started circling it. Ann was in front of me and she dragged her hands down my body and wrapped her elegant fingers round my cock and started stroking it.

“Take him in your mouth.” Siobhan instructed. Ann knelt on the lower bench and I felt the warmth of her mouth as she took me in. Siobhan’s fingers gathered pace and her other hand on her breast was teasing her nipple. She watched Ann suck down on me, taking my length deep into her. She had raised her ass high and with one hand, was working her pussy as she sucked on me. She let me out and licked her ready tongue over the head of my cock, then down the shaft and took my balls in her mouth her hand reaching up to stroke my shimmering cock. My eyes were locked on Siobhan’s as we watched each move other towards climaxing. Ann took me back into her mouth, faster and harder as she sucked. My heart was racing, Siobhan's now pulling on her nipples and finger fucking her wet cunt. She knew I was close.

“Cum in her mouth for me” Siobhan's voice was breathless.
Ann slipped me out of her mouth and her hand was tight round me, her red polished nails flashed as she pulled me, fast and urgent. My breathing stopped for a moment as I felt the adrenalin pulsing. I lifted my cock as it started shooting pulses of cum over Ann’s wet mouth and face, my load massive and hot as it spurted in her mouth, over her face and in her hair. Siobhan watched, mesmerised as her own wave was approaching. Ann took me back in her mouth, sucking hard down in me to extract the last drops.

“Let me taste him”
Ann turned, her fingers catching my cum as it dripped from her mouth and she was over to Siobhan, kissing her hard, their tongues melting with my cum as it fell between their mouths and ran down their bodies. I watched, spell bound as Ann started licking my cum off Siobhan’s breasts, lapping her nipples. Ann’s hand slipped down and her fingers mingled with Siobhan’s as they both now worked her cunt and after a moment, Siobhan threw her head back as her orgasm swept through her, rushing and flooding her.
“Fuck...suck me Ann. Suck me” She was moaning loudly as she buckled under the strength of the sensation as she came, waves breaking over her, her body alive, vital and she screamed in pleasure, her pussy oozing with creamy wetness, their fingers dripping. She shivered and rocked, her mouth slack, her nipples erect in Ann’s mouth and her cunt hot.

The steam rose as the room quieted to the sound of breathing from three naked, sweating bodies as we returned to the present from what seemed like a dream.

Ann was the first to speak.
“Wow” was about as much as she could muster. Siobhan smiled.
“Wow indeed”.

Ann rose after a moment, gathering her towel. She was now reserved, like when she had fist stepped in.
“I’d better get going” She said.
I smiled and she crossed over and kissed me softly. She then came back to Siobhan and they kissed, lingering slightly like the whole roller coaster might start again. But after a while she turned and left the hot room.

Siobhan watched her go.
“She is a beautiful woman”
She grabbed our towels and came over and sat next to me. She turned and our eyes met. I wanted to speak, try and say something to her as she sat naked and glowing, but the words wouldn’t come. Siobhan’s eyes then darted across to the window in the door and she threw a towel over me just as the door opened again.

A woman in a red swimsuit, must have been in her fifties with neat bobbed hair, tanned and shapely, came in, smiled at us and took a seat on the bench. She got used to the heat then turned and caught Siobhan’s eye. She sensed something from her smile.
“Hope you two have been behaving yourselves in here” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course we have” Siobhan said, like she was the church virgin. “We’ll leave you to it”
I stood up and climbed off the bench and as I did, Siobhan surreptitiously kept a hold of my towel and it peeled from me as I stepped down. The woman’s eyes fell onto my cock, lying heavy between my legs, still swollen, the vein that ran its length proud. She held her gaze on it, her mouth open every so slightly and for a second I imagined she might be Mary Smithson, the original owner of the well thumbed copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover I had found that morning, the same flush of red on her now as there was when she read it as a breathless teenager.

“Come on Tiger, put some clothes on” said Siobhan as she handed me a towel, a wicked grin on her face and she led me out into the glare of the swimming pool room and the rest of the world, the rest of my life.

She walked towards the changing room, her towel wrapped round her.
“I’m having dinner in the hotel tonight if you want to join me?” I offered as she wandered off.
“I’ve plans” she said, not turning. As she neared the door, she loosened her towel and let it drag on the floor and I was hypnotised by her naked form, her bronzed legs and perfect ass, her wet hair brushing her slender shoulders as she swung the door and walked into the dressing room and the door slowly crept closed like the sun sinking behind the horizon.

3.

I had packed, initially cursing Stephanie for leaving her bag but being unable to resist opening it, I discovered a side to her that I look forward to teasing her about. I answered an old email from a friend at The London Erotic Review, a supposedly high brow monthly collection of erotic writing. He had been pestering me for a submission, but I hadn’t the inclination until now. I pitched him a column called ‘The Monday Girl’ about a woman who takes every Monday out of her life for the pure pursuit of pleasure and writes a diary about it. He got right back to mean with a deal memo and I took my notebook to dinner to try and unscramble the days events, knowing it would make a substantive start to my new venture.

The hotel dining room was smart enough, but with an air of impersonality. The waiter appeared at my side opening a bottle.
“The 82 Bordeaux” he announced. I knew this would happen, The poor fellow couldn’t remember whether it was still or sparkling water so mixing up the wine didn’t surprise me.

“Sorry” I began, the British standard opening when someone else has got it wrong (we, for some unknown reason, always apologise for pointing out someone else’s mistake). “Really sorry” I continued “But I didn’t order the 82 Bordeaux”

“No. I did” Her voice. And there she was, next to the table.
“Shall I set another place?” Wonderboy said and I threw him my best ‘does a bear shit in the woods’ look and off he scurried.

“The 82 Bordeaux is much better than the Pinot Noir you had asked for” Siobhan said, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite me.
“Thought you had plans”
“Didn’t say they didn’t involve dinner with you” she said, taking her seat.

She looked stunning, her hair down and shimmering, her skin still glowing and her make up, heavier but simple, red lips and her dark eyes now smoky with mascara and eyeliner. She wore a simple black dress, belted and buttoned up the front, her legs sheathed in black nylon in black high heeled shoes. A silver pendant hung low in her cleavage, with small diamond studs in her ears. I suddenly felt under dressed in jeans and a grey T shirt, but Siobhan was too cool to worry about such things. She was in fact, a touch jealous when I told her I had never worn a suit outside of a wedding or a funeral. Something I was oddly proud of.

Dinner was delightful, she was the most amiable and charming companion one could wish for. We ate well and laughed long. We shared secrets, hopes and dreams. We sparred over art, my argument that conceptual art could hold its own with the great painters, she batted back with gusto. We grew quiet as we talked of loss and regret, but that laugh of hers was never far away and I sensed a woman who was never going to let life get the better of her. What I thought was her Mediterranean lineage turned out to be wrong, the alluring sun kissed tone of her skin came from a native American lineage in her family. We then found a common bond in political tastes, sharing a passion for equality and liberalism. It was almost surreal to imagine this was the same woman that I had watched in the dressing room and had shared the sauna with. We found ourselves having moments when we just found each other’s eyes, remembering the day perhaps.

Siobhan was looking at the menu when the idiot waiter appeared.
“Have you chosen a dessert?” He asked.
“We could share the Panna Cotta” Siobhan said.
“We could” I countered “or we can ask them to crack a bottle of 12 year old malt whisky and leave it in our room”
Siobhan looked up. She glanced at the waiter then back to me.
“Madam?’ The waiter asked.
“What he said” Siobhan replied, a smile playing on her lips.

We shared the elevator with an elderly couple who did all the talking, leaving Siobhan and I standing side by side, our silence full of anticipation. As the lift rose, I felt her hand brush mine and then our fingers found themselves entwining. It was a small intimacy, but nonetheless I found my heart was thumping in my chest, and could have sworn that Siobhan was holding her breath. Her hand felt small in mine, and I could feel the cold metal of her sliver rings and the edge to her nails, polished, immaculate. The old folks left us to ride the last floors alone and soon the elevator opened directly into the penthouse the hotel was trying to impress me with. We stepped out and turned to each other. Our eyes met. I was longing for this woman. Aching for her. And she was here, inches away from me. I knew she was feeling the same way, her eyes darting between mine and my mouth, like she was willing me to lean in and kiss her. She opened her mouth slightly, we stood, still, deep in each other’s eyes. She wanted me to kiss her so badly.

There would be time for that, I thought.

“Did you know what you were going to do today when you woke up this morning?” I asked.
Her voice was quiet.
“I had no idea. But it felt like the right thing. It was a good day. Fun.”
“Mmm” I nodded, smiling, and she was too, her smile dazzling.
“You’re quite a naughty girl aren’t you?”
“I am” She said “a very, very naughty girl”
“You are”
“I know’ She said. We were quiet, each trying to gauge the atmosphere.
“And I know that naughty girls deserved to be punished.” Her smile fell away and her eyes darkened.
“I think you need to apologise for your behaviour” I said, picking up her lead.
“I’m sorry” She looked me in the eye.”Sir.” That last word her signal.
Serendipity had stepped in as out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Stephanie’s zipped bag, the contents of which I was now familiar with.
“Naughty girl” I said as I walked away from her. I kicked off my shoes and socks, and poured two glasses from the bottle of Glenmorangie they had left out for us. I threw one back, the whisky hot and burning. Siobhan was watching me.

“Take your dress off” I said.

She inhaled quickly, responding to my directness and she unbuckled her belt. It fell to the floor and she then started on the buttons. When the dress was open, she eased it from her shoulders and it fell to the floor. I stared at her, taking her in, this time it was me who was distant. She wore a half cup bra and her dark nipples were barely covered by the lace trim, her round breasts held, restrained and heavy. Her suspender belt was black with chrome clips on her lace top black stockings. Her panties laced with a simple red silk ribbon detail. All from Agent Provocateur I would have guessed. Beautifully made, exquisitely detailed, the fabric as black as her hair, as black as her eyes that burned into me as she stood watching me. Her toned legs, clad in their sheer skin, were elongated by her heels. I walked over to her and stood inches away from her. I could feel her breath on my cheek. Her smell was flooding my senses, clean and fragrant and I wanted to take her in my arms.

There would be time for that, I thought.

I took a step back. I could feel her anticipation, wanting to reach for me.
“You really are a very naughty girl”
“I’m know Sir” She said.
“Take your panties off” I walked over to Stephanie's bag. She waited for me to turn before slipping her panties over her stockinged legs and stepping out of them. Her small triangle of hair was neat and led my eyes down to her pussy as she eased her legs slightly apart, letting me see the darkness of her lips, engorged with her desire. I opened Stephanie's bag and took out a selection of silk ropes and a small velvet bag. The ropes were a deep blue and felt cold in my fingers.

“Go over to the chaise and turn round” I watched her as she walked over to the black upholstered chaise longue that sat by the window, the lights of downtown twinkling through the glass. Her hair was soft on her shoulders, her skin flawless and her ass full and smooth.

I approached her. She turned, again expectant of my touch, but that could wait.

“Take your tits out of your bra”
She eased them over the lace cups, her nipples now growing as she touched them. She swallowed, her mouth drying as she watched me take a thin silk chord with two looped ends, one of which I slipped over one erect nipple, tugging the loop tight, being careful that my fingers never touched her body - that too, could wait. I strung the chord across and looped the other end round her other nipple. They were now both hard and pointed. I pulled gently at the chord and she let out the faintest squeal as her nipples were tugged, her breasts moving with the action. Taking a thicker silk rope, I swung it round one wrist then through the wooden rail at the base of the chaise, round her other wrist and back through the rail again. The rope was long but as I walked round to the back of the seat, I pulled and the rope tensed and she folded over the high section of the seat back, her spiked heels on the floor, her stockinged legs long and straight, her ass high and curved as the rope lengthened, pulling her over and down onto the long seat. Her breasts hung under her, the silk chord between them. I opened the velvet bag. Inside were a collection of tiny little silver horseshoes, each a fair weight. My mind flashed to Stephanie, I had no idea that this collection of goodies was her constant traveling companion. Placing a couple of the miniature horseshoes over the chord, Siobhan let out a sigh as they pulled harder on her already stretched nipples.

I walked back round behind, my feet quiet on the wooden floor and for a moment I just looked at her, restrained, bent over, her pussy now starting to glisten between her legs, her calves tight, her legs ramrod straight and tantalising apart.

“I have been a bad girl Sir.” Siobhan was breathless, expectant. “Very, very bad”.

I lifted my hand and it fell at first very lightly on that perfect vellum of her ass cheek. Her suspender straps were pulling tightly on her stockings as she was stretched over. I took my hand on her again, this time harder. And again. Siobhan was breathing fast now as I spanked her. Harder and harder. Her bottom now reddening, her moans increasing as I spanked her fast.

“Oh fuck” she said as I increased the tempo, her ass an angry red. I stepped round and slung another weight on her chord, her dark nipples like bullets, and then I was back and my hand now a rapid tattoo on her, the spanking now in time with her moans as she raised her ass to meet me. Then two harder passes that would have smarted and I left her trying to catch her breath as I went back to Stephanie’s bag. I threw down another whisky, my own breathing now quick and my cock now granite hard in my jeans,
I looked over at her, bent over, open, waiting. Out of the bag I pulled a gleaming silver vibrator and turned it on. It was smooth and long, not too thick and felt good in my hand. Back behind her, I placed the head of the toy at the top of her ass cleft and slowly moved it down. I rested the buzzing tip on her asshole, small, tight and the deepest hue of her skin, and held it there a while.

“Oh fucking hell” Siobhan managed between breaths. After a moment, I moved it down and it slipped so easily into her dripping pussy, her lips falling open to take it as I pushed it in.
“You want this in your cunt Siobhan?” I asked her, moving it in deeper.
“Please. Yes. Please.” She replied
“In your naughty slut’s cunt?”
“Oh fuck yes. Fuck my cunt with it” she said. “My slut cunt. Fuck it. Please.”
And I moved the shining tool in and out of her, her wetness flowing over it, in and out as she now found her voice.
“Fuck my cunt” she was loud now, not caring who might hear.
“Fuck me. Fuck my cunt. This slutty cunt”
I turned up the vibrator and she took it, stroke after stroke after stroke. It served her long as she became wetter and wetter. She was soon lost in the sensations as I pleasured her over and over with the toy. Then as she was getting close, I took it out and wedged it into a ridge of the black velvet upholstery, so it now started its insane buzz hard onto her clit. I went round and pulled gently on the rope round her wrists which pulled her longer over the back of the seat, forcing her pussy tighter onto the toy. Siobhan was loud now, panting and moaning and I watched her swing from trying to lift herself off the constant vibration to pressing herself further on to it. Back behind her, I took my hand across her bare ass again, each spank intensifying the buzz on her clit. I spanked her hard. Again and again. When it came, her orgasm didn’t so much approach her, but rather crashed through her like a wrecking ball. She held her breath for the longest time then was screaming at the top of her voice as she came. My hand still hard on her ass as she raised her head up, the ropes taut. Her orgasm was long and sustained, the crazy buzzing relentless on her burning clit and just as she felt the climax of the surges inside her, I dropped the last weight which dragged hard on her fierce nipples. She buckled and shuddered, her screaming almost primeval as she orgasmed. When she couldn’t take any more, she wriggled and bucked and the dildo slipped from its place and fell on the floor, vibrating madly on the wooden boards. Siobhan’s knees went and she collapsed under the tension of the ropes and the power of her orgasm. I turned of the vibrator and the room grew quiet save for her hot breath. I noticed a sheen of sweat all over her as she lay, spent, exhausted. I untied her ropes, then softly loosed the chords from her breasts. She unfolded herself form the chaise and stood. She was in front of me, her face flushed, her eyes rapid as she took me in. For a moment she just stood there, dazed. Then her voice was low and soft.
“What the fuck was that?” she said, still wild eyed and breathless. “I have never come as hard as that. Never. That was fucking insane.”
I smiled. Siobhan’s senses now staring to return and the smallest of grins was now played on her lips.
“Seems I’m not the only naughty one” she said.

We fell quiet as we stood, again, within inches, and the ache to touch each other was back again, now much more intense. Our eyes locked and the hubbub of the city outside suddenly seemed to fade as the sound of our breathing filled the room. I reached round and unclipped her bra, her breath hot on my neck as I came close. Then her suspender belt. I then took her heels off and rolled her stockings down her legs and over her feet. She leant into me and lifted my T shirt over my head, then unbuckled my jeans and pulled them off. She eased the waistband of my shorts over my cock which felt heavy, semi erect and pulsing.

And there we were. Naked, vulnerable, together. All the trappings gone. The talk, the accoutrements, the straps and buckles, the restraints, the manners and politeness, the form, the past and the future, all gone. It was just us.

And then the first of two moments. Our eyes drew each other closer and, at last, my mouth fell gently on to hers. It was like coming home, our feelings turning somersaults inside as we felt our tongues meet, soft and slow, exploring and sensing. It was exquisite and full of longing. Like we were figures from some Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel who had spent lifetimes apart waiting to be together. My head wouldn’t let me believe that I had only known this woman for some eight hours, not even a day. And later, maybe if my head did let me believe it, my heart would never.

Our hands then found each others bodies and they too went exploring, reaching and caressing. I felt the edge to her nails as she ran her hands down my back and round onto my ass, pulling me to her. Our kissing now deeper and harder, I could feel her breasts against my chest as my hands came round onto the still smouldering heat of her ass. My cock now growing, pressing into her as we held each other tightly. My hands now ran up her back and into her glossy hair, holding her. We moved over and fell onto the bed, Siobhan rolling back and allowing her legs to open as I moved over her. I took her delicate hands together and raised them over her head as she lay and held them there as I kissed down the lengths of her slender arms, lingering inside her elbows, gentle kisses, and down onto her body and onto her breasts, feeling her lovely nipples respond to my tongue. My hand fell down her body, over her and down, stoking and circling. She too had her hands roaming over me, teasing my nipples, stroking my chest then she plunged down and I now felt her hand caressing my cock. She wrapped her fingers round it and stroked it, holding it tight, the end now full and deep red. She pulled right down on it then up again, sending shock waves through me. My fingers now traced that slightest of valleys, that soft line between her stomach and her hips which led me down and into her centre. Two of my fingers eased her petal lips apart and sunk into her wetness, like she was sucking me in. My wet finger now finding her clit, hard and alive as she increased the strokes on my rigid cock. We were kissing again, our bodies hot, the sweat shimmering as we gave to each other, caressing, stimulating. Our hands explored over and over, tender one moment, then vigorous the next, until after a while she pulled me over her, opening her legs wide and steering me to her.

And the second moment. She placed her hands on my hips and moved me so the head of my now rock hard cock nudged the opening of her pussy, my hardness slowly opening her lips and I could feel how wet she now was as she controlled me so that just the end of me filled her soft opening. She held me there for what seemed like hours, the sensation incredible, the anticipation a sweet agony. I could feel her tighten and pulse, her pussy kissing my cock. I was above her as I gazed at her, focussing on details, the ink of her eyes, the iridescence of her skin, her soft lips, a perfect mole like an Eighteenth century beauty spot. Then I leaned in to kiss her and as I did, I felt her being, her wholeness, open up to me as our mouths met and my cock filled her, sliding deep into her soaking cunt, hard and long as we, for a moment, became one. She let out a gasp as she took me in, her hands now round on my ass, her nails digging as she willed me into her. I held myself there for a moment, before drawing myself out until just my swollen head was parting her before sliding back in again, deep and long. And then our rhythm gathered a pace. Building my strokes to match her writhing hips, her hands dragged down my back clawing me with her kitten scratches, marking me, owning me. Our soft, slow kissing a counterpoint to our hard bodies as they slammed together, the base of my cock pressing onto her clit. The bed became our island as we rolled across it, turning each other, moving our bodies to increase our pleasure, so she could feel me deeper, exploring each other as we made love. Pulling her round, she turned and raised that perfect ass to me, her knees on the bed as I took her from behind. I moved back from her slightly so my only contact was my hardpoint cock slipping on and out of her. Siobhan’s moans were deep and long as I penetrated her. She reached her hands round and pulled her ass cheeks apart, allowing my strokes to be deeper as she lifted her hips so the gentle curve on my cock might start its stimulus on her G spot. And now I placed my hands on her back, then round onto her hips and pulled her tight into me. She gasped and her hands shot down to steady herself as our fucking grew quicker. I took a hand over her ass, smoothing and stroking, then a finger found her tight asshole and I eased it in. Siobhan’s breathing quickened.

“I want you in my ass” She whispered as she took her hand down and pulled me out of her pussy. My cock sprang up, glistening with her wetness and I let it settle on the dark pucker of her asshole. I then slid it down as it pressed her open slightly, her pussy juices lubricating us. And then slowly, she opened, my head stretching her tightness as inch by inch she took me in. I could feel her tightness, hard, squeezing me, then as I entered in deeper she opened up like a sigh and again our rhythm took hold. I could hear her fingers in her sopping pussy as she was now fingering her clit, familiar for her, practised, and bringing herself forward towards her orgasm. She felt incredible, fastened to me and buckling under me. Eventually, as my strokes increased, I could feel myself getting close and I stopped, allowing the moment to pass and I held her on me as she worked her clit. I eased my self out of her, then grabbed her quickly and flipped her over, her small frame easy in my arms. I wanted to taste her, drink her in, and I lay her on her back, forcing one leg onto the bed and lifting the other to angle her pussy for my mouth and I was on her. Kissing her cunt, my tongue in it, around it, over it, lapping in her honey. Her taste was at once both familiar and exotic, dark and intoxicating. She reached down and her fingers spread her herself allowing my tongue to tease her clit. Again I flipped her so now she was on top and as I did so, she deftly span round and offered herself back onto my mouth and at the same time I felt her mouth close over my cock. I filled her as she took me in and started sucking hard, her mouth over me then off with her tongues working over my glans, making me harder than I have ever felt. She took me back in and into her throat, again and again, her pussy grinding me, her clit hard on my tongue. She must have sensed I was close again as she suddenly pulled me round and we were kissing. Our mouths filled with each others tastes, our tongues eager and hot. And now she forced me on to my back and was over me. Pinning my arms by my sides, she arched her back and kissed me all down my body, over my chest and down back onto my cock, sucking over it, long and smooth, her ass in the air, she felt coiled like a spring. Then she raised her head and the spring uncoiled as she reared up and pulled herself onto top of me, my hardness finding her warm pussy as she started her hips rocking onto me.

“Fuck me” She said. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me.”
She rode me fast, her hands cupping her tits and pulling on her nipples, her eyes closing, waiting to welcome her sensations.
“God that feels good. Your cock in me. Fill me honey. Oh Fuck me. Fuck me”
She slid off me every now and then and ground her clit along the length of my shaft squeezing it down against the head, then she would take me back in to her, then again, her lips eased over my girth, her clit aroused and ready. She threw her head back, her hips hypnotic in their pace as her orgasm built like a storm on a distant horizon. Like walking a tightrope, her path was narrow, the intense pleasure could pass at any time, but she was closing. Closing in and opening herself fully at the same time.

“I’m going to cum on you baby. Oh fuck, yes” She was loud now. Her being now a whirlwind, her emotions drawn into the absolute physicality of our bodies and after a second, a tiny moment of absolute stillness and focus, a distillation of this union of bodies, she was there. The storm broke over her, the way lightning strikes silently and full of charge and her orgasm filled her. She pressed down hard on me as she voiced her ecstasy, loud and free, and she came, wave after wave, taking over her. She had no control but to let it explode within her, rippling through her from her toes to the very ends of her. And as she came, she took my cock deep inside her and it was that last stroke that took me too. I was filling her, my cum pumping out of me like my thundering heartbeat. We held each other like we were falling through the night sky together, untethered, close, fulfilling each other as we fell, hurtling down. The peak of our climax catching us and lifting us back up again from our free-fall and dropping us back on to the bed.

We lay together, welded, as one. We lay for hours maybe. I didn’t know anything. And still we lay. Silent. Shared.

We showered together, our bodies tender but unable to resist each others touch again - sharing a glass of whisky, hot like the falling water. The alcohol drawing our mouths together again as we kissed whilst the soothing water fell over our us.

The night took us soon after and we fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. At one moment, my eyes opened and I could have sworn she was sitting up, propped against a pillow, her beautiful breasts just above the sheet and she was reading that old copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover, her tortoiseshell Moscot glasses on, as she tucked her hair behind her ear. A vision. But maybe my sleep was not dreamless after all.

And in the morning, she was gone. No trace of her.

I suddenly felt the loss. A crazy notion. Siobhan. A day ago I never know she existed. But her absence touched me. The room seemed unchanged, like we had never been there. In the bathroom, I touched the little scars her fingers had left on me, glad of these souvenirs, else I might have thought I’d imagined the whole thing.

I checked out and had an hour before my flight. I found myself back in the Prada concession. I wanted to get her something, figuring the hotel pool could pass it on. There was a linen dress, slate grey with short sleeves, a simple neckline and a full skirt. She would look good in it. I took it to the cash desk and started flicking thorough my wallet for a card.

“For Siobhan?”
I looked up.
“Ann?”
And there she was. Immaculate, rested, her sunset hair tied.
“She nearly never came home last night. And she never does that”

I stared at her, my mind racing.
“She came in to take me for lunch yesterday but I missed her. She left me a message saying she’d see me at the pool and told me not to bring my swimsuit.” She was grinning. Then she leaned in.
“You are leaving today aren’t you?” She looked at me.
“I am”
“Good” She smiled, teasing me.
“I’ll see that she gets the dress. She’ll look great in this” she said as she folded it.
“She will” I said.

The plane, like they always do, seemed to be struggling to heave it’s hulking self off the tarmac, but eventually the engineering defied gravity and we lifted into the sky, the city falling away from me for, perhaps, forever. We sailed into the clouds and I turned to my book. I opened it’s worn cover, there was Mary Smithson’s name. I turned to Chapter One. And there, in pencil, was a scribbled note. It simply read:

“Chailleann tu I”

I stared at it. Only this woman. This enigma. Teasing me again with this cryptic note. I read it again and somehow my mind sprinted through everything I had ever read, had ever known and then, like a fog lifting I suddenly recognised it.

Irish Gaelic. It translated, I remembered, as simply “I miss you”

I looked out. And her memory filled me as the clouds fell away behind us and we soared up into the cool blue of the endless sky.