gauchecritic
When there are grey skies
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2002
- Posts
- 7,076
For this years Valentine's Day Contest. I attempted to write a sex scene that didn't include sex. I've asked a few friends if it worked and their response was quite favourable.
Now I'd like to ask for other's opinions. The scene in question is below, what I'd like to know is: Did it work?
Before they had taken a seat in the café across the road a purring voice asked from clouds of steam behind a formica work top; “And what is it to be this morning my little Carlito?”
Venita squinted, as she took a rattan chair behind a plastic covered table, to see the outline of someone busy with an expresso machine from the 50’s. “Oh my!”
Carl stopped mid-way to the serving counter and glanced back enquiringly.
“This chair! It’s… very comfortable. I can’t believe it.” She wiggled in delight at the touch of the natural fibre.
Carl smiled and turned back to the steam wreathed voice, engaging in unsophisticated backchat, and heavily laced flirtation. “Just look at what this place is doing to your hair.” He spoke loudly so that Venita heard every syllable, painting a smile from eyes to lips. Holding a lock of the steamed hair in one hand, Carl stroked delicate fingers along the length, making the owner thrill with the physicality. With evident shock Carl cried “Grey. You’re going grey. Carmencita don’t be grey. Don’t get old on me.”
With loud laughter, the woman behind the counter pulled her head back and at the same time Carl away. Smiling hugely, he made his way to the opposite side of the table from Venita. “Tea and toast? Are you sure?” She nodded. His thighs resting on the edge of the chair, Carl brought his hand towards Venita’s hair, causing her to pull back quickly from the impromptu contact.
“I know you don’t I?” He prompted. Venita, pulling on the ends of her hair, in order to maintain a curtain of personal space, mutely shook her head in denial. “I know your face from somewhere.”
“I don’t think so.” Venita demurred. I’ve only just moved here.
“Must be me then dear. Never mind. Now,” he held her gaze “breakfast.”
Carl sat languidly in his seat, pensive and amused, letting his eyes flicker over Venita’s face, trying to put it in context of a place. For her part, Venita, gave profile; full and half, tilting her head this way and that and even turning around in her seat so that the scrutiny could be whole and entire. She challenged his memory.
“Still just tea and toast then?”
Venita was flustered at this return to such a seemingly mundane topic, when he should have been giving her ‘the third degree’ on where their respective paths had crossed previously. “Yes.” She blurted. “Tea and toast. What’s wrong with tea and toast?”
“Of themselves dear heart, nothing. But as breakfast? Oh no, no, no. Breakfast is the largest and most satisfying pleasure of the day.” The voice from the steam cut across the room and Carl’s words.
“Tea and toast for your lady Carlito.”
“Mui bien.” Carl kissed across the counter as payment and returned, hands filled with browned bread and a mug of hotness. “Here you are Tea-and-toast.” Naming Venita for her choice of diet.
“What do you mean ‘largest and most satisfying pleasure’?” Venita demanded immediately, curiosity spurring her onward.
“If you will give me a few moments” began Carl, “I shall demonstrate.” Whereupon he reached across to Venita’s plate and plucked up a piece of dry toast, between long and manicured fingers. “Poke your tongue out for me Tea-and-toast.” Venita, unsure and quite delighted, poked out the tip of her tongue between white teeth and pink/brown lips. “Oh my.” With feigned shock, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tongue so pink. More girl, I need to see it all.” Glancing around with vague discomfort and mild embarrassment, Venita stuck out the length of her tongue, and then withdrew it just as quickly when Carl almost screeched: “Oh my god.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Shrieked Venita behind horrified butterfly hands.
“Oh my god. What wouldn’t I give to have a tongue like that? Show me again. Come on Tea-and-toast, show me.”
“What’s wrong with it?” demanded Venita, then stuck out her tongue for inspection once more.
“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong dear heart. It’s exquisite. I’ve never seen a tongue like it. And let me tell you, I’ve seen plenty of tongue in my time.”
Venita giggled at this last, the depth of colour darkening her complexion, her embarrassment, evaporating along with the steam from her tea.
“Ok. Now we’ve got the silliness out of the way, we’ll begin. Tongue?”
Venita obliged and Carl, quite deliberately, started to rasp the piece of dry toast across her tongue and upper lip. “That’s your tea and toast, Tea-and-toast. Arid, and nasty. Nothing to taste, nothing to savour. Now this,” he announced, as the steam wraith placed a ‘Full English’ on the table along with a fleeting pressure of lips to his forehead, “this, is breakfast.”
Venita had witnessed ‘full English’ many times, but this halted her breath. This was FULL English. A red and orange ocean of beans with a shoal of plump tomatoes surrounded an island of white and yellow eggs; thoroughly cooked rashers of pink and brown with crozzled edging lay alongside deeply tanned torpedoes of sausage. A wreckage of sliced mushrooms littered the edges of the breakfast seascape and there, as a homage to food, stood the blood and fat monuments of black pudding.
Unwanted and unwelcome, saliva flooded Venita’s palate. Her slightly parted lips slipped liquid want down the side of her sculpted chin. “Can I take it that you have no objections to meat then, Tea-and-toast?”
“Have a sip of water,” Carl instructed, “then close your eyes, open your mouth, and lay out your delicious tongue.” Never once taking his eyes from her face, Carl, by touch alone, took pieces and parts of the food from his plate to give sweet, salt and sour delight to Venita.
Venita, self-blind, sat waiting, expectantly and with a certain anticipation.
Eyes from the steam took in the whole episode as Carl tenderly led Venita’s senses on a gourmet path of discovery. He dripped golden egg-yolk to the left of her extended tongue, which solidified where it fell and Venita tasted yellow. “Mmm” she crooned with concentration expanded taste momentarily defeating her senses.
“Don’t swallow. Yet.”
He lightly touched a finger-torn tomato to the right of her tongue and Venita felt quick burning fruit making her flick her tongue back between her lips and gasping “Oh”, then segued into a small moan as the tang vied with the taste of egg yolk. A sliver of mushroom was placed centrally and meltingly, tantalisingly, gave up its flavour to all sides. A wordless exclamation escaped her lips.
Venita, with no small reluctance, felt herself being carried along with the taste and soon enough, the textures of this unusual adventure.
Carl leered his enjoyment, knowing where and how he would lead his Tea-and-toast he laid open the skin of the pork meat and carefully held a small piece above Venita’s tongue, encouraging her to breath deeply, to take in the taste and smell. She inhaled and beneath her closed lids, her eyes rolled up and her jaw dropped at the pure pleasure of feeling without a touch and visualising without sight that perfume of spice and meat.
With his fingers, Carl delicately denuded the bacon on his plate of its crisped rind and placed a bare inch of it along Venita’s back teeth. “Slowly… Chew.”
She gasped in surprise. Her teeth ground easily across the hardandsoft texture, at once tearing, and sinking into, the fat. A fry-sharpened spike barbed Venita’s tongue spurring her to clamp teeth and bite down hard to savour the small pain as a compliment to the flavours flooding her senses.
Venita felt cold smoothness against her lower lip as Carl dominated her with the command “Open. Sip.” Flooding her tongue and teeth with clean water, he noted a furrowing of her brow. A thought. A query. A worry?
“Oh my god. I don’t know the ‘stop’ word” thought Venita as she began to struggle against this physical onslaught of her taste buds, but never even peeping, not once, trusting this just-met stranger completely.
“Oh Tea-and-toast. How could I hurt you? Don’t you worry for a second dear heart, far from harm; I’m going to delight you. The best is yet to come.” He dropped his voice to a whisper as he leant forward. “Be ready for ecstasy.”
Carl waited. Venita waited. Taking wicked advantage of her closed eyes he tilted his head to the side peering closely between her veil of hair and her brown jaw and witnessed the evidence he knew would be there. With the only grease-free finger he had, he gently touched the almost invisible spot at the top of Venita’s nose, between her eyebrows, making her flinch ever-so slightly, and felt the slightly drier patch of skin where perhaps spirit gum had been used too frequently. He smiled.
“Roll your tongue.”
Venita knew the taste of beans and of tomatoes, but this river of delight coursing down the channel of her tongue was a totally new experience. Her back arched and she was shocked to find that this caused her suddenly erect nipples to graze the folds of her silk shirt making her immediately self-conscious as she brought her shoulders forward to shrink from the feather touch. She swallowed. Carl delighted in his prediction of her reaction and visibly struggled with his need to administer the coup-de-monde.
Venita was lost in a miasma of original, sometimes frightening sensations taking her from surprise to delight and a myriad of places in between.
Carl bade her “Show me your beautiful tongue one last time Tea-and-toast, after this, you can open your eyes at any time. Tongue”
Anticipation, apprehension and a small niggle of fear swept through Venita. She new what was to come, what was left to have, what it would do to her and how disappointed she knew she would feel. The reality astounded her.
He laid a piece of the last part of his… their, breakfast on her flattened tongue and instructed her how to consume it. “No teeth. Just roll it around in your mouth with your beautiful tongue. Crush it to the roof of your mouth. Work it backwards to your throat. Caress it. Swallow when you must, but not too soon.”
“Oh my god.” Venita fought the impulse to open her eyes, to see what it was that Carl had been hiding. This wasn’t on the plate. This felt like… She dare not even think it but now she had the image and it wouldn’t leave. The familiar darkening of her cheekbones and across her nose told Carl she had the image he wanted her to have and if his timing was right, then her eyes would fly open with the fear of unspoken knowledge, that she would never tell and he could never guess.
That particular taste had been there all along, from seconds after she began to crush the black pudding to her upper palate. This taste was so familiar that it didn’t register for quite some time. This taste shouldn’t be now. This taste, to accompany the image, should have been slightly salty. This taste was a monthly taste. And this taste was the one that dampened Venita’s panties.
She swallowed.
Her eyes flew open and what she saw was Carl with a wide smile on his face, her flickering eyes caught the enraptured gaze from the steam and finally the last piece of delight held gingerly in Carl’s fingers. Venita didn’t draw blood, but she did bite hard enough around the black pudding, enveloping it and held Carl’s fingers between her teeth, in payment for rapture, as her stomach muscles clenched and relaxed in waves, making her small body relax and tense in consensual sympathy. The natural fibres of the chair too, seemed to move of their own accord, massaging where they touched and against all propriety, stroked, smoothed and lifted Venita to a never-before (or since) experienced height of sensual pleasure.
Carl fell silent and smiling broadly all the time, continued to eat the remains of his breakfast, glancing often at Venita’s face to watch for the inevitable downward, sad, spiral to the here-and-now.
As she sipped her fresh mug of tea, provided silently and with what appeared to be thanks by the steam wraith, Venita smiled and drew a breath of gratitude, but before she could speak, Carl had placed his finger on her lips, to gain her silence.
“There are two things you should know Tea-and-toast, one is, that will probably never work again. It’s a one shot thing, in my experience. Sad, frustrating, but true. Two. Abigail must like you very much. There’s only a handful of people at the office who she has asked me to ‘breakfast’. I think you’ll enjoy working with us.”
Now I'd like to ask for other's opinions. The scene in question is below, what I'd like to know is: Did it work?
Before they had taken a seat in the café across the road a purring voice asked from clouds of steam behind a formica work top; “And what is it to be this morning my little Carlito?”
Venita squinted, as she took a rattan chair behind a plastic covered table, to see the outline of someone busy with an expresso machine from the 50’s. “Oh my!”
Carl stopped mid-way to the serving counter and glanced back enquiringly.
“This chair! It’s… very comfortable. I can’t believe it.” She wiggled in delight at the touch of the natural fibre.
Carl smiled and turned back to the steam wreathed voice, engaging in unsophisticated backchat, and heavily laced flirtation. “Just look at what this place is doing to your hair.” He spoke loudly so that Venita heard every syllable, painting a smile from eyes to lips. Holding a lock of the steamed hair in one hand, Carl stroked delicate fingers along the length, making the owner thrill with the physicality. With evident shock Carl cried “Grey. You’re going grey. Carmencita don’t be grey. Don’t get old on me.”
With loud laughter, the woman behind the counter pulled her head back and at the same time Carl away. Smiling hugely, he made his way to the opposite side of the table from Venita. “Tea and toast? Are you sure?” She nodded. His thighs resting on the edge of the chair, Carl brought his hand towards Venita’s hair, causing her to pull back quickly from the impromptu contact.
“I know you don’t I?” He prompted. Venita, pulling on the ends of her hair, in order to maintain a curtain of personal space, mutely shook her head in denial. “I know your face from somewhere.”
“I don’t think so.” Venita demurred. I’ve only just moved here.
“Must be me then dear. Never mind. Now,” he held her gaze “breakfast.”
Carl sat languidly in his seat, pensive and amused, letting his eyes flicker over Venita’s face, trying to put it in context of a place. For her part, Venita, gave profile; full and half, tilting her head this way and that and even turning around in her seat so that the scrutiny could be whole and entire. She challenged his memory.
“Still just tea and toast then?”
Venita was flustered at this return to such a seemingly mundane topic, when he should have been giving her ‘the third degree’ on where their respective paths had crossed previously. “Yes.” She blurted. “Tea and toast. What’s wrong with tea and toast?”
“Of themselves dear heart, nothing. But as breakfast? Oh no, no, no. Breakfast is the largest and most satisfying pleasure of the day.” The voice from the steam cut across the room and Carl’s words.
“Tea and toast for your lady Carlito.”
“Mui bien.” Carl kissed across the counter as payment and returned, hands filled with browned bread and a mug of hotness. “Here you are Tea-and-toast.” Naming Venita for her choice of diet.
“What do you mean ‘largest and most satisfying pleasure’?” Venita demanded immediately, curiosity spurring her onward.
“If you will give me a few moments” began Carl, “I shall demonstrate.” Whereupon he reached across to Venita’s plate and plucked up a piece of dry toast, between long and manicured fingers. “Poke your tongue out for me Tea-and-toast.” Venita, unsure and quite delighted, poked out the tip of her tongue between white teeth and pink/brown lips. “Oh my.” With feigned shock, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tongue so pink. More girl, I need to see it all.” Glancing around with vague discomfort and mild embarrassment, Venita stuck out the length of her tongue, and then withdrew it just as quickly when Carl almost screeched: “Oh my god.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Shrieked Venita behind horrified butterfly hands.
“Oh my god. What wouldn’t I give to have a tongue like that? Show me again. Come on Tea-and-toast, show me.”
“What’s wrong with it?” demanded Venita, then stuck out her tongue for inspection once more.
“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong dear heart. It’s exquisite. I’ve never seen a tongue like it. And let me tell you, I’ve seen plenty of tongue in my time.”
Venita giggled at this last, the depth of colour darkening her complexion, her embarrassment, evaporating along with the steam from her tea.
“Ok. Now we’ve got the silliness out of the way, we’ll begin. Tongue?”
Venita obliged and Carl, quite deliberately, started to rasp the piece of dry toast across her tongue and upper lip. “That’s your tea and toast, Tea-and-toast. Arid, and nasty. Nothing to taste, nothing to savour. Now this,” he announced, as the steam wraith placed a ‘Full English’ on the table along with a fleeting pressure of lips to his forehead, “this, is breakfast.”
Venita had witnessed ‘full English’ many times, but this halted her breath. This was FULL English. A red and orange ocean of beans with a shoal of plump tomatoes surrounded an island of white and yellow eggs; thoroughly cooked rashers of pink and brown with crozzled edging lay alongside deeply tanned torpedoes of sausage. A wreckage of sliced mushrooms littered the edges of the breakfast seascape and there, as a homage to food, stood the blood and fat monuments of black pudding.
Unwanted and unwelcome, saliva flooded Venita’s palate. Her slightly parted lips slipped liquid want down the side of her sculpted chin. “Can I take it that you have no objections to meat then, Tea-and-toast?”
“Have a sip of water,” Carl instructed, “then close your eyes, open your mouth, and lay out your delicious tongue.” Never once taking his eyes from her face, Carl, by touch alone, took pieces and parts of the food from his plate to give sweet, salt and sour delight to Venita.
Venita, self-blind, sat waiting, expectantly and with a certain anticipation.
Eyes from the steam took in the whole episode as Carl tenderly led Venita’s senses on a gourmet path of discovery. He dripped golden egg-yolk to the left of her extended tongue, which solidified where it fell and Venita tasted yellow. “Mmm” she crooned with concentration expanded taste momentarily defeating her senses.
“Don’t swallow. Yet.”
He lightly touched a finger-torn tomato to the right of her tongue and Venita felt quick burning fruit making her flick her tongue back between her lips and gasping “Oh”, then segued into a small moan as the tang vied with the taste of egg yolk. A sliver of mushroom was placed centrally and meltingly, tantalisingly, gave up its flavour to all sides. A wordless exclamation escaped her lips.
Venita, with no small reluctance, felt herself being carried along with the taste and soon enough, the textures of this unusual adventure.
Carl leered his enjoyment, knowing where and how he would lead his Tea-and-toast he laid open the skin of the pork meat and carefully held a small piece above Venita’s tongue, encouraging her to breath deeply, to take in the taste and smell. She inhaled and beneath her closed lids, her eyes rolled up and her jaw dropped at the pure pleasure of feeling without a touch and visualising without sight that perfume of spice and meat.
With his fingers, Carl delicately denuded the bacon on his plate of its crisped rind and placed a bare inch of it along Venita’s back teeth. “Slowly… Chew.”
She gasped in surprise. Her teeth ground easily across the hardandsoft texture, at once tearing, and sinking into, the fat. A fry-sharpened spike barbed Venita’s tongue spurring her to clamp teeth and bite down hard to savour the small pain as a compliment to the flavours flooding her senses.
Venita felt cold smoothness against her lower lip as Carl dominated her with the command “Open. Sip.” Flooding her tongue and teeth with clean water, he noted a furrowing of her brow. A thought. A query. A worry?
“Oh my god. I don’t know the ‘stop’ word” thought Venita as she began to struggle against this physical onslaught of her taste buds, but never even peeping, not once, trusting this just-met stranger completely.
“Oh Tea-and-toast. How could I hurt you? Don’t you worry for a second dear heart, far from harm; I’m going to delight you. The best is yet to come.” He dropped his voice to a whisper as he leant forward. “Be ready for ecstasy.”
Carl waited. Venita waited. Taking wicked advantage of her closed eyes he tilted his head to the side peering closely between her veil of hair and her brown jaw and witnessed the evidence he knew would be there. With the only grease-free finger he had, he gently touched the almost invisible spot at the top of Venita’s nose, between her eyebrows, making her flinch ever-so slightly, and felt the slightly drier patch of skin where perhaps spirit gum had been used too frequently. He smiled.
“Roll your tongue.”
Venita knew the taste of beans and of tomatoes, but this river of delight coursing down the channel of her tongue was a totally new experience. Her back arched and she was shocked to find that this caused her suddenly erect nipples to graze the folds of her silk shirt making her immediately self-conscious as she brought her shoulders forward to shrink from the feather touch. She swallowed. Carl delighted in his prediction of her reaction and visibly struggled with his need to administer the coup-de-monde.
Venita was lost in a miasma of original, sometimes frightening sensations taking her from surprise to delight and a myriad of places in between.
Carl bade her “Show me your beautiful tongue one last time Tea-and-toast, after this, you can open your eyes at any time. Tongue”
Anticipation, apprehension and a small niggle of fear swept through Venita. She new what was to come, what was left to have, what it would do to her and how disappointed she knew she would feel. The reality astounded her.
He laid a piece of the last part of his… their, breakfast on her flattened tongue and instructed her how to consume it. “No teeth. Just roll it around in your mouth with your beautiful tongue. Crush it to the roof of your mouth. Work it backwards to your throat. Caress it. Swallow when you must, but not too soon.”
“Oh my god.” Venita fought the impulse to open her eyes, to see what it was that Carl had been hiding. This wasn’t on the plate. This felt like… She dare not even think it but now she had the image and it wouldn’t leave. The familiar darkening of her cheekbones and across her nose told Carl she had the image he wanted her to have and if his timing was right, then her eyes would fly open with the fear of unspoken knowledge, that she would never tell and he could never guess.
That particular taste had been there all along, from seconds after she began to crush the black pudding to her upper palate. This taste was so familiar that it didn’t register for quite some time. This taste shouldn’t be now. This taste, to accompany the image, should have been slightly salty. This taste was a monthly taste. And this taste was the one that dampened Venita’s panties.
She swallowed.
Her eyes flew open and what she saw was Carl with a wide smile on his face, her flickering eyes caught the enraptured gaze from the steam and finally the last piece of delight held gingerly in Carl’s fingers. Venita didn’t draw blood, but she did bite hard enough around the black pudding, enveloping it and held Carl’s fingers between her teeth, in payment for rapture, as her stomach muscles clenched and relaxed in waves, making her small body relax and tense in consensual sympathy. The natural fibres of the chair too, seemed to move of their own accord, massaging where they touched and against all propriety, stroked, smoothed and lifted Venita to a never-before (or since) experienced height of sensual pleasure.
Carl fell silent and smiling broadly all the time, continued to eat the remains of his breakfast, glancing often at Venita’s face to watch for the inevitable downward, sad, spiral to the here-and-now.
As she sipped her fresh mug of tea, provided silently and with what appeared to be thanks by the steam wraith, Venita smiled and drew a breath of gratitude, but before she could speak, Carl had placed his finger on her lips, to gain her silence.
“There are two things you should know Tea-and-toast, one is, that will probably never work again. It’s a one shot thing, in my experience. Sad, frustrating, but true. Two. Abigail must like you very much. There’s only a handful of people at the office who she has asked me to ‘breakfast’. I think you’ll enjoy working with us.”
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