Aftermath

Tammara had drank three to my two. She was like that. I could never match her pace neither at drinking nor at life in general it seemed. Of course drinking was just something to do when being social, not a life skill to be honed like Tammara did (or so I had always been led to believe), so as she polished off her fourth and set the glass - still with its unmelted ice - down firmly on the bar, I yet had barely made a dent in my third rye and ginger and was already feeling tipsy. The occasion had been Tammara's mother-in-law visiting and the break that she had therefore needed from her begrudgingly entreated house guest.

"Well, better get back to the bitch," she sighed as she slid her skinny butt from her barstool to stand. Her burgundy micro polka-dot dress fit her tiny frame snugly. Tossing her long blonde streaked curls back she shouldered her purse. "Thanks for comin' out, hon," she said. "I needed that." Even on her feet she had to look up to me. Then she opened her arms for an embrace before grabbing her coat and folding it over her arm. "Sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," I assured her. "I'll just finish this and call a cab." With that Tammara whisked herself away to return to her husband leaving me all by herself at the bar. I wondered why I felt so alone. It wasn't like I didn't have someone there waiting for me. It was just that even with the bitch that Neil's mother apparently was, she was so much more happy with her life that I was with mine. She was married and I wasn't, but Barry and I had been together for four years, living together for nearly the last three. Tammara was outgoing. Things were always happening for her. She could wear anything and get attention just for the sake of it. I couldn't. I was shaped like a tree - a thickly trunked redwood with clumsy branches. She was a lifestyle magazine editor. I managed the deli department at the local supermarket. I couldn't say that I was jealous of her, but any glimpse of excitement in my life was always experienced through her, and I was a poor coattail rider at that.

I took another sip of my drink and replacing the glass to the coaster I saw my reflection. The wall behind the bottles was a mirror. In between the bourbon and the vermouth I looked back at myself with cloudy grey-blue eyes on a pale complexion. Plain brown hair with bangs hung straight to my collar, exposed by the boatneck cut of my light sweater, horizontally striped in ochre tan and copper. The sleeves only made it halfway down my forearm. Finding clothes that fit were always a problem that way. At least this top looked like it was meant to have shorter sleeves. The hips in my loose jeans that I would eventually lift from my barstool were much wider than Tammara's. 'You're a natural hourglass,' people would gush their affections upon me when they felt the need to say something nice. I supposed that it was true although it would take a century or three for the sand to fill my bottom glass. 'Wow, how tall are you?' was the most frequent question that I faced on a daily basis. 'Six-foot-one.' While other women would be told how beautiful or even how hot they were I would always be reminded that my face had great bone structure. I'd settle for my consolation every time. It just wasn't me to retort that great bone structure without the rest of the package doesn't get you anywhere nor anything. Dropping my eyes from those high cheekbones and subtly tapered jaw to the bits of ice nearly disappearing in my drink, I took more than a sip. I supposed that I should probably hurry things up. The longer that I sat there, the more pathetic of a scene I would likely be making. Still, there was some sort of odd curiosity tingling in the air.

I had ordered it and was going to have to pay for it so I intended on finishing it. I was nearly there. Then I could ignore this strange anticipation within me and surrounding me, settle up and go home and this night would be just like any other night.

"Simon Idris. Join me for a drink?"

I started with a not-so-small gasp as I did a double-take of the man suddenly sitting next to me.

"Darby Conlan," I said, immediately feeling stupid for the automated blurting out of my name. He had offered his first and last, so I suppose that I felt as if I had owed him mine as well. After a moment I realized that he had also asked me a question. He was offering me a drink, and my delay was even longer as I weighed the pros and cons. I'd certainly had enough to drink already. Any more would only be adding to my impairment. I also wasn't single and leading him on would surely make me a bitch. On the other hand something was happening. That intensity in the air was now making my body squirm with a twinge of excitement. It was dawning on me that someone was interested and I specifically remembered the only other time that I'd been hit on (and it wasn't by Barry). It was shamefully flattering. I couldn't just turn him down. Considering that he didn't know that I was attached (I wore no ring) he hadn't done anything wrong. Flatly denying him would be rude.

"Well, I already have one," I blushed my non-committal answer.

"First off, why refuse my hospitality?"

His attention was certainly keeping me warm and fuzzy and I was loathe to leave this little cocoon of flattery that he was weaving around me. At the same time Simon Idris was well dressed - perhaps too well - and well kept. It puzzled me why he would be interested in me it all. It made no sense. Then he touched me with a subtle grip of my arm. I wanted to melt, to lean my temple against his shoulder, but it was wrong. It hit me that I'd have no help from Tammara in this situation. I suddenly felt naked without her.

"Tell me about you, Darby."

"What's to know?" I began awkwardly. I took a moment to find something interesting and came up empty. "I manage the deli at Value King," I offered as I stared down at the last swish of rye in my glass. I was failing miserably. To fill the silence I raised it to my mouth and swallowed it down, replacing the empty to the coaster. I had nothing left to say and nothing left to drink. I was lost.

There was a warmth in his touch that sent goosebumps rippling up my arm and across the back of my neck with a tenderness that I could not deny a longing for, even if I had suppressed and dismissed it all of my adult life. I couldn't help but silently blush as he extolled and clearly embellished the virtues of my common occupation. He was overdoing it, I could tell, but I was still hooked. Maybe I felt as if I was worth overdoing it for. The new drink that Simon had ordered for me soon arrived and feeling obliged to drink it, I took the first sip.

"When you finish that drink, I'm going to take you somewhere quiet and private so you can can unwind."

I immediately replaced the glass to the coaster. He couldn't be serious. I must have been a sugary shade of pink as I demured deeply and cowered to hide a nervous grin realizing that I was being propositioned. Even I could tell that he was asking me to bed just like that. It was all so terribly flattering and left me unsure of how much of my fuzziness was the alcohol and how much was his attention. At a loss for words I could only sip again.

"Thank you for the drink," I finally managed to blatantly change the subject and deflect his advance. They were words to fill the void at least while I bought myself some time. It would be so easy to just curl up next to him and indulge my body's wishes, but my commitment meant something and I wasn't just an easy lay. That notion had been something to cling to on all of my lonely nights while others around me were out living passionately - but something felt wonderful there next to Simon. I realized that I felt wanted by him, genuinely coveted in some way. He had lit a flame of terrifying excitement within my bosom.

Years before I had been approached by some guy with a gushing fetish for large tall women. This time was different. Simon did seem more sincere about me and not just my sore thumb form. I supposed that it wouldn't hurt much to bask in his adoration at least until I finished the drink. It was still three-quarters full. Once I gathered the courage to peer over his way, the bar light glowed in the fringes of his hair. His smile was intent and comforting and his hand was still on my arm.

"You're quite well dressed," I commented as I sipped again.

"I appreciate the finer things in life, but then you knew that. After all, I sat down next to you."

My breath escaped me again and I dipped my head subtly, just enough for the fall of my hair to slip forward and hide my profile. His latest decadent compliment was yet another savage blow to my weakening defenses. His hand was still on my right arm. I took the next sip using my left.

"You don't have to say all these things," I peered around the edge of my hair for a moment and told him after the latest wave of goosebumps had subsided. At a loss for anything further to say raised my left wrist once more, searching for a distraction. The bartender busied himself refilling his ice bin. Laughter burbled from the table in the corner of the room behind me. In the mirror the light only caught the end of my nose and the top of my left cheek. Putting the glass back down, I noted its level below the half mark, much of that still ice. It was going quickly. Like an hourglass it steadily drained its sand. A deadline approached and a crossroads awaited.

Looking down at the trace of liquid left in my glass, I sensed the fabric of the moment coming apart. This sweet alcove of time would not sustain. I sighed and embracing the fall I swallowed the remnants of my cocktail, savoring it and the cold water melting from what was left of the cubes, taking the time to let it all trickle down the back of my tongue and coat my throat. There was no more sense in stalling. I put the empty down and with my fingertips cold from the condensation on the glass, placed my hand on his.

"I'm ready to go," I told him with forlorn eyes. Ultimately it was wrong. I removed his hand from my arm, placing it gently and deliberately upon the bar. Then I stood, taking a moment to steady my stance. All the extra drinking was suddenly hitting me once I found my feet. Taking my tan corduroy blazer from the stool, I slipped my arms into the sleeves and straightened the lapels. Then I reached into my bag and pulled out enough cash to cover my tab previous to his arrival and left it on the bar. "Good night, Simon," I told him with warmth on my lips and sadness in my eyes. I took one last look at him with his smooth skin and handsome tapered jaw, his trim and capable physique. Then I shouldered my purse, turned and walked away.

As soon as the evening air outside hit me, so did a crushing emptiness. It was an opportunity missed, another failure in my life. All of my energy left me and the pace of my heels upon the concrete slabs of sidewalk slowed. At the first recessed doorway I turned in to hide, leaned my back against the bricks and began to cry. I fumbled in my purse for a tissue but couldn't find one so I dabbed my eyes with the corner of my sleeve.

"Darby?"

To say that I was startled was an understatement. I must have been a deer in headlights. Simon went to lengths to assure me that he hadn't been following me but it wouldn't have mattered if he had. He extended a kerchief my way and at first I shunned his offer, weakly raising a palm and shaking my head between sobs, trying to hide behind the fall of my hair.

"It's certainly better than your sleeve."

If I hadn't felt rude for declining, I certainly did then, and indeed as I checked, black mascara smudged the cuff of my jacket. He had me all figured out. My hand reached out, then retreated. Then humiliated in my indecision I reached out again to take it, admitting my defeat. I had never felt more pathetic. Adding dishonesty and ungratefulness to the litany of my flaws, the remainder of my virtues had toppled. No one would want me in such a sorry state, not even Simon. There was nowhere to crawl and hide and I was too embarrassed to even speak, so I could only bow my head to slowly wipe my cheeks in shame, wishing that someone would rush to my rescue, gather me up and put me back together.

"C'mon now. Just walk with me."

I found calm and comfort in his voice which lubricated his coaxing grasp and before I knew it my sidestep had me slipping right into his nuzzle, my cheek upon his soothing shoulder. Tension vented from me as my diaphragm relaxed from the crying and my breath became easier. We were walking with stressless and careless footsteps. The destination was Simon's car but it didn't matter. It didn't matter where he drove me, nor that he'd likely had too much to drink to get behind the wheel himself. It didn't matter what would happen next at all. The serenity of his protective halo was seductive. A decision had been made.

My breast brushed up against him as we walked, but I saw no point in doing anything to stop it. There was a tranquility in not resisting, in just going along for the ride. We stopped at his car, dark and sleek in the night, and he opened the back seat for me. There was a driver at the wheel and Simon soon joined me from the left hand side. He introduced us and soon we were off. Julia was certainly unexpected and her presence gave me somewhat of a jolt and kept me timid. His shoulder was too soothing to resist and I nuzzled against it once more as the car rolled on through the night.

The glow of the street lamps ebbed and flowed as we passed beneath them and the suspension absorbed all the cracks and bumps in the asphalt as the rubber of the tires rolled over them. Everything about the car was comfortable except its driver. I was sure that she was nice enough but I was feeling far too vulnerable and was in no mood for witnesses. Instinctively I sighed deeply as I tugged at the corduroy lapel of my jacket, reaffirming it as an extra layer between my breast and Simon's flank.

I was going to his place. The anticipation rippled through me. I was going to have an affair with someone I had just met. It was surreal. I just wanted to get to it while my conscience turned this blind eye. No matter how long the drive would be I was going all the way.

It wasn't too far. Simon's embrace was terribly soothing as the car rolled along, stopping at intersections, starting and turning with ease. Soon we were pulling through a gate and onto cobbles. I could hear them under the tires. Simon helped me out and guided me to the door of the house. It quite dark but the hedges cast black shadows upon shadows and there was much stone work.

Inside, we were in a room of comfortable earth tones, dimly lit. Rich tobacco was in the air, but only a hint, as if someone occasionally stepped out to puff a pipe with the door left open. From the ornate glass-doored cabinet, Simon produced a glass and filled it with liquor. He handed it to me.

"Drink up."

Stupidly, I sipped. Then I wondered why he hadn't poured one of his own, but before I could pose the question, his hands were on my waist.

"I'm thinking that the first stage is to get you into something more comfortable. More precisely, let's get you out of these clothes."

My breath escaped me. Then the tension in my hips deflated as he opened my pants. I felt his hand tugging down my fly and I reached for the end table behind me to put down the drink. My fingers slid under the collar of his jacket and over the sinews of his shoulders. I raised my lips to his and pressed.

My jeans fell past my knees and I let my bag drop to the floor. Simon's hand slid down my tummy and I felt a twinge of embarrassment at the dampness of my panties as his fingers explored them. Still I parted my ankles as my jeans would allow and shuddered as his palm indulged itself over my mons and clitoris, unable to stop my hips from rolling into the pressure. My mouth opened wide and I exhaled into his with a tiny sigh before pulling him close with a hand up the back of his neck and sucked ravenously on his tongue.

With a pronounced thunk, my back pressed into the wall as Simon stepped forward. I was flushed with heat and the thrill of being cornered by his want, pounced upon by his lust.

"If you want something slow, I'll take you upstairs and lay you down gently on the bed upstairs. Otherwise, I'm going to take you here and now."

If anything, he talked too much (it made me think and I was in no mood to) but his hand was inside my panties, his finger curling in my sweaty bush and inching downward and was a delirious distraction. I took his face in my hands and kissed him hard. The smacking of our lips was clear in the quiet. Then my hands slipped under his lapels again and pushed his jacket from his shoulders. It began to drop.

Once his jacket was off I went to work on his tie. Impatiently fumbling, I managed to loosen it but couldn't get it completely undone so I abandoned it and went to work unbuttoning his shirt. Soon I had it mostly open and my right hand slipped impatiently inside to palm his chest. Simon's fingers clawed around inside me, roaming brazenly about causing random pleasures that brought occasional bucks from my hips and gasps from my lungs. The tantalization as he dug around inside my panties eventually brought me enough frustration that I leaned back against the wall and yanked my underthings down past my hips.

Simon didn't seem all that interested in undressing so I'd have to do it myself. I mewled into his mouth as we kissed hard and my hands tugged at his belt. It took a moment between the writhing of our hips but he seemed to clue in enough to give my hands a little bit of space with which to work. Once I got his belt and fly open, his pants immediately dropped, clinking to his ankles.

We were generating a great deal of heat and I felt steamy inside my sweater and blazer. My body's instincts were to shoulder out of the jacket but pinned against the wall as I was prevented such a move. I was surprised to find an excitement in that and so gave in to it. With one arm around his shoulders and the other hand slipping up the back of his scalp I deepened the kiss, licking at his palate and the back of his jaw.

Then his hand left my pussy and I felt the heat of his prick approaching. The anticipation took my breath away and I gasped as he reached down to stick his glans into my wet entrance.

"Ohhh," I sighed heavily, my body shuddering as it took his length. He was in me, hot and thick and bare. I tried to lift my right thigh to accommodate his stroke. It was happening.

I couldn't lift my leg like I wanted to, but Simon's lust wasn't about to wait. He kept trying to fuck me as I struggled and I had never felt so immediately wanted and had never been more turned on in my life. I had no choice but to give him every last ounce of my passion. My jeans and panties around my ankles were in the way. He tugged on my leg but my foot was trapped in my clothes. I kicked but in my frantic impatience couldn't free myself. Finally I had to pause and reach down to work the strap of my clunky high heeled shoe loose. It took a couple of desperate attempts but it eventually slipped free and I kicked it away. It landed with a soft clunk on the carpet. Then between me shaking my leg and the support of Simon's arm, my ankle untangled from my jeans and panties and the unburdening seeming to elicit a sigh of relief from the both of us.

With his left arm beneath my right thigh, his right arm hooked under my left leg and soon hoisted. Simon was so determined to take me, and now that he had me pinned it was the hottest I'd ever been. I had something worth taking. I was something worth taking. I could feel the flow of my own wetness trickling down between my buttocks and I moaned in falsetto as he burrowed into me, sheathing into my depths. My legs were around him and I hung on for life as Simon handled me, trying to find more penetration with the angle of his thrusts. I tried to help by lifting my thighs and rolling my hips. Each stab was just a bit deeper than the last. I clung tightly to his body as we jostled cheek to cheek.

"Uh ... uh ... uh ..." I sighed with each quick jabbing thrust as he picked up the intensity.