Author’s note
Written in 2014, apparently.
I think this was probably an effort at trying to work out what a cupboard was. We certainly find the man in the story putting up lots of shelves etc. It’s like I was scared of the sexy bit I was preparing to write.
If you find erotic value in this, you’re a fucking trooper. Anyway, the heart wants what the heart wants.
Listening notes
Mainstream: Good Woman by The Staves
Instrumental: And One by Arthur Blythe
The sun, having briefly emerged from behind a bar of redly illuminated cloud, boiled towards the horizon as he waited for her at the station. She was on the way, the text confirmed, and she would be with him in a matter of minutes. Long enough to contemplate her and guess how she would be.
He didn’t have long to contemplate. She arrived earlier than expected, pulling up alongside him while he was turned the other way. “Get in!” she called from an open window and he obliged. She was, as she had warned, too thin. Her dark hair still spilled over her shoulders, which simply seemed narrower. She was enveloped by the driver’s seat, seemed to be slight enough to be part of it. He closed the door, they said hello with big smiles and they set off down the road.
She was excited about the house.
“So, I told you it’s nowhere near finished. Living room is done, because there had to be somewhere to sit. The kitchen is finished. The hall, stairs and landing have no carpet and they’re still rewiring those. The upstairs – well it’s a mess. The room you’ll be sleeping in is done, but it’s just full of boxes, sorry!”
He watched her as she spoke, her eyes fully on the road ahead as she seemed to drive towards the sun. “Hardly a problem,” he replied, and laughed.
“You’ll see how problematic it is when we get there. You’ll also see my ulterior motive for agreeing to have you over.”
“Christ. You’re not going to lecture me on flirting again are you?” he laughed.
“No. You may be lifting some things up on to shelves, though. After putting shelves up.”
“Ah, okay. Well, if I can help you know I will.”
“I thought you wouldn’t refuse a damsel in distress.”
“You don’t seem too distressed, to be fair.”
“Not now that you’re coming over to put up my shelves.”
She took a CD from the dashboard and pushed it into the player. Instantly, he recognized the first track and realized it was a mix he had given her years before.
“Take this Waltz” he blurted out. “Great track.”
She looked briefly at him and smiled, then turned back to the road.
It didn’t take five minutes to get to the house, and as they stepped out of the car the evidence of renovation was quite clear. Wood, bags of sand and evidence of torn out banisters were neatly arrayed by the garage door, whilst a light plaster dust clung pinkly to the windows on what he took to be the living room.
“Front door’s not sorted yet, so we’ll have to go round the back,” she called as she closed her own door and followed him down the drive.
When they had rounded the house and gotten to the back door, she turned to him.
“I’m very happy to see you, honestly. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
“You’re good to have me over. It’s been ages since I got the chance to put up some shelves, prove my manliness.”
She placed the key in the lock and struggled with it for a few seconds, until he stretched out his arm. She moved her hand away and he turned the key.
“It’s just a knack,” he said, as he pushed the door open for her and she went inside.
The kitchen into which they walked was perfectly complete, with new surfaces, appliances and utilities all installed. It was a modern suite – ivory units and an ivory set of work surfaces. He could see it was being used primarily for toast and coffee – no evidence of the other appliances being used at all presented itself. It was balmy warm in the room – she scowled at a thermostat as he looked around.
“Do you have a knack for making coffee while I wrestle with the heating?” she asked. He agreed that he did have such a knack and set to it.
She took off her coat, revealing a maroon cashmere sweater with a high neck, outlining the profile of her upper body with delightful precision. It clung to her shape all the way down to the dark, tight jeans she wore. She could tell he was looking although she didn’t look at him. She could almost guess the lazy trail of his eyes down over her ass to the backs of her thighs, towards the black leather knee high boots she had worn to keep out the cold.
She was self-conscious until she looked around and saw him beginning to fill the kettle. He had seen her, and he had taken her in one glance and held the image. She returned to the heat controller and stood, her legs crossed, biting her lip as she tried to remember how she’d been told to operate the timers.
Now, she thought, now he should be checking me out if he wants to – no time like the present. She adjusted the timer to knock the heating off and sensed him approaching her. He brushed up against her shoulder and looked at the controls as she pressed the buttons and, not expecting it, breathed out audibly in response.
“It’s fancy,” he said. “But it’s simple. Have you it fixed, or would you like me to have a look at it?”
She was embarrassed from her little murmur but in no great hurry to move away from him – she stood her ground as he reset the timers.
In a minute or so, they had negotiated the timers to her preferred hours and he walked away to finish making the coffee.
She went to the fridge and bent down to take out the milk – with no hint of a bend in the knees – she leaned over with a straightened back, pivoting from her hips, her small but beautifully rounded ass sticking straight out.
She looked over to him and was deeply satisfied to see him look away quickly – in her house, she could show, or not show, exactly what she wanted, and he would be, as he always had been, the perfect gentleman. And now, she thought, deviously, the perfect gentleman with that – that – on his mind.
She handed him the milk and hopped up on the counter, her back to the window. As he added the white fluid to the dark coffee and handed it to her, she cleared her throat. She wasn’t sure exactly how far she was prepared to take this, but she knew she was prepared to go at least to the deeply frustrating, if not absolutely to the extremely satisfying level of torment.
“There are biscuits if you’d like. I know I’d like some.”
He nodded. “Where do you keep them?”
She applied her most innocent face. “This cupboard.”
“Which cupboard?” he asked, slightly confused.
“This cupboard,” she repeated, pointing downward and tapping the cupboard door with her heel.
He looked at her for a moment, trying to work out what she was doing – and then he began to realize she was simply fucking with him. He was lost for words, but walked the few steps towards her slowly.
“You’ll have to get down so I can get them.”
“Nope. My house, my rules. I am very comfortable here.”
“Okay. Okay.”
He walked towards her and crouched- he tried to move her legs out of the way to the left, and then to the right, but there was no rational way to get the cupboard door to open than to go between them.
“Could you…”
“Nope.”
“Really? Do I have to lift you off there to get at them?”
“Nope. Not allowed to do that.”
“Okay.”
He looked up at her with a smirk as he took each of her ankle in his hands and slowly lifted both of them into the air, clearing the door and allowing him to open the cupboard door, whereupon he found cleaning products and appliance manuals.
“Oops,” she said. “I think they might actually be in the cookie jar over by the kettle. Silly Ben.”
He laughed a little.
“Bad Kathryn,” he intoned, and she pulled her ankles away from him and dismounted the work surface.
“How do you like my Kitchen?”
“It’s very nice. Tastefully done, which of course I expect from you.”
“My taste is something I always had in my favour,” she said, staring him down, again with the innocent face.
“Yes. I guess that’s probably true,” he responded. “And I think you have a great eye as well.”
She smiled. “Two of them. Let’s go put up some shelves.”
They walked out of the finished kitchen into the incompleteness of the hallway. Carpet wasn’t yet laid, but progress was clearly being made. She walked ahead of him to the stairs, then turned toward him.
“Bedroom on the left is yours,” she said. “Has a window, floor, bed and lots of boxes, as I said. Enjoy that later. For now we have work to do.” She walked on up the stairs and pointed straight ahead toward the open door of the bathroom.
“Bathroom. It’s not done yet. Redoing it when everything else is done – apparently it’ll only take a day. But anyway. The real business is in here,” she said, turning back to him. “The master bedroom. Voilá!”
“You’re going to love my bed,” she exclaimed, and leapt two stairs at a time until she was at the landing, whereupon she stopped still and looked round behind herself to see him. He noticed that her stance was most unnatural- she was forcing her ass out just a little bit again, showing off. He carried his cup up the stairs, sipping as he went. He could feel himself stirring a little, and wasn’t in the least surprised. She was, he felt, putting on quite a show, but it was just on the side of caution. He would watch to see how she played the next few encounters, but already he knew exactly what he wanted, and how he wanted her.
The master bedroom was beautifully laid out, and far too warm. He undid his overcoat and surveyed the scene – shelving units had been placed at the base of the bed, which was made up with crisp but soft-looking bright white sheets. The whole room smelled partially of clean linen and whichever perfume it was she wore.
She threw herself on to the bed.
“This bed is fucking brilliant. It cost a lot of money and I intend to make very great use of it.”
“Sleep is valuable,” he conceded.
“Sleep is boring. Other things are much more fun.”
“I agree. I like watching TV in bed, for instance,” he parried, half-heartedly.
She laughed out loud.
“I have no television in the house at all. I have a laptop, but I have no TV. The bedroom is for other entertainment.”
“Well, radio, I guess. And, well, entertaining.” He intoned the last to ensure they were on the same page.
“Indeed. I like entertaining. I intend to have you entertain me now, by having you talk to me and watching you put up some shelves.”
“How romantic,” he said. “Where do you want them?”
“I’m not particularly romantic. I’m practical, as you know, silly Ben. Exactly over where I have the books stacked.”
“You are romantic,” he replied, as he turned towards the shelves. “You are very kind and sweet and romantic and you know it. Do you happen to have a drill and a screwdriver?”
She pointed to the corner, where the electric screwdriver lay. He took the battery from the charger and mated it with the driver, for some reason glancing at her as he did so. She watched intently, laid back on the bed, as he inserted the bit and tightened the chuck.
The boring bits flew by quite quickly – he marked and drilled the wall, fitted plugs and installed the units relatively easily – he was certainly impressed even if she wasn’t. They exchanged smalltalk as he worked – he simply getting the job done, and she gently teasing him for the sport of it.
When he was done, he packed away the driver and turned back to the bed, where she was lying on her front, her chin resting on her hands, smiling. He smiled back.
“Right, that’s done,” he announced. “What else would you like me to do?”
“What would you like to do next?” she inquired.
“Well, ideally, have a drink and conversation.”
“Tough,” she replied. “Now you’ve things to put up on the shelves. Books.”
“I can do that, but you’ll have to order them,” he said, so she seemed to leap from the bed and over to him.
“No, sir!” she mocked. “These don’t go in order. Just put them up and make sure I can find them by reading! There are seventy books exactly.” She joined him by the books and began handing to them, and he did what he was told.
As she handed them to him and they talked about work and family, he could feel himself stirring again, but this time more determinedly; he didn’t check but he could feel a stiffening and began to be concerned that it was becoming visible – if she happened to accidentally glance in the direction of his crotch, he was certain she would see it and understand why it was there. He had to do something about it.
When the final book went up on the shelves, she thanked him for his work and skipped out of the room and towards the stairs. He laughed and followed behind her, as she bounded down the stairs and turned back to the kitchen.
When he arrived in the kitchen, she leapt back on the same surface as earlier. He leaned against the wall and smiled. “Need me to play hunt the biscuit again?” he asked.
“No, not at all. I think you know where the biscuits are.”
“Excellent. Anything else for me to do?”
She grimaced. “There is one thing.”
“What?” he asked.
“I can’t ask you to do this. It’s something I can do myself.”
“You could have put the shelves up yourself, but I was happy to do it.”
“You were very good. It’s too much, I don’t want to play the bossy boots anymore.”
“I don’t mind at all. Anything you want.” He could feel himself even harder in his trousers as he looked at her, and offering to do anything for her had made any effort to conceal it ineffective.
She grimaced again. “I don’t think I can get my boots off.”
He laughed out loud. “Shall I help you take them off?”
She cocked her head to the left. “Would you? I promise it’s the last thing I’d have you do.” He approached her as she spoke.
“I do hope that’s not true.”
He crouched down again and reached out. Taking her left leg first, he held her ankle in his hand and lifted it slightly – she could feel the warmth of his hand through the leather, and he could feel the shape of her leg. He moved closer, looking up to her as she watched him. There was something intense about the contact, and they both felt it. She hummed a little murmur of a laugh as he located the zip fob, on the inside leg just below her knee – and their eyes locked.
He slowly released the first few teeth of the zipper – so slowly that each tooth passed could be faintly heard and less faintly felt in her calf. Just as slowly, he pulled the zipper down – firmly gripping her ankle in the other hand. He knew what she could feel – the slight tap of each tooth being released by the fob as he lowered it inexorably to the bottom of the black leather boot.
There was now, they would both agree, something faintly indecent about the process. He held her foot up against his chest as he pulled the zip, all the time locked looking at her stunning, searching eyes. She wondered what he was feeling, why he was motivated to do what he was doing, and what had made it take her wanting her boot to be removed to bring it about. He reached the bottom.
“I wish these were thigh high boots” he said, suddenly, and lifted her leg to his shoulder, resting the ankle there. She sat back a little, still watching him. He found the zip of the other boot and began to release it too – almost as slowly, almost as sensually enrapt, but with more urgency. What on Earth was he going to do? Did this end with simply the boots on the ground and a return to the platonically inclined gentleman? She soon had her answer, as her foot was released from the boot. He placed the other ankle on his shoulder and turned to face the first released foot. He slipped off her sock and worried her for a moment that he was going toward her feet – she needn’t have worried about that.
He placed a gentle but firmly perceptible kiss on the bare skin of her ankle – a delicate, far too thin part of her body but with, she would have conceded, the softest most perfect skin. He placed a kiss on each ankle and moved slightly upward on each leg. Holding the calf of each, he began to place kisses up each leg in turn – in a minute he had reached the knee and she had realized the only sound in the room was her breathing.
She leaned back and allowed him to continue his strange progress. She could feel the heat of his breath –but only just- through the denim of her dark, skin-tight jeans. She made no effort whatever to stop him or slow him down as he kissed and rose, kissed and rose above her knee. She found herself, first involuntarily but then very voluntarily opening her legs to ease his progress, and heard her breathing rise and sharpen even further.
He took her by the legs and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter and moved higher still, until he reached the end of the road. His eyes were closed now – he was lost in the feeling, the scent and the eroticism of the moment. Kissing her now through her jeans, he had a sense that she knew how far she was prepared to go. As he kissed and nuzzled at her crotch, she reached out and stroked his hair, holding him, knowing that the sensation she now felt was simply not enough – she needed more and she sensed he did too.
She tried to make the undoing of her belt a subtle affair, but he could feel every tug she made at her jeans- and could feel and sense every button of her fly she popped open. He reached up and parted the lobes of her jeans and began to slide them off her.
With her jeans quickly pulled off, she slipped off the black silk underwear and he completed the job, dropping them onto the floor. She was beautifully, joyfully and lusciously wet – he immediately kissed the slight shock of dark pubic hair and extended his tongue to taste the dewy moisture on her slit – then buried his face in the soft folds of her lips. He tasted and kissed her and gloried in the slippiness of her. She was leaned back now on her kitchen counter, her arms holding her slightly up, her eyes closed, feeling every flick of his tongue and kiss of his hungry, passionately engaged lips against hers.
She spread her legs wide for him and grinded herself against his tongue – not caring for the moment of anything other than the sensation of his mouth licking her – and his obvious burning need to have her cum.
The thought, and the determination and effort to fuck her with his mouth had an instant effect on her. As he lapped and kissed her labia, She knew he meant it, and he showed her how much he meant it. She was seized by a powerful sense that she had nothing whatsoever to lose and a powerful – she shuddered – a powerful orgasm – she shuddered again – to gain.
Her breathing was ragged – it had raised to a whoop more than a breath, and suddenly just as she heard his satisfied moan occasioned by the taste of another slight wave of wetness against his tongue, she began to come.
He felt her begin – and he reveled in it, changing his pace and motions to match her out-of-control movements, bringing her home, willing her to satisfaction for what seemed like minutes.
When her breathing subsided, he stood, unbuckled his trousers and released himself from his underwear. She opened her eyes again and nodded, a vaguely lustful and mischievous look in her eye. She beckoned him closer and reached out her hand, taking his cock between her palm and fingers and guiding him into her.
“Don’t be gentle”, she asked. “Give me what I need.”
“I want to,” he replied.
“You will,” she demanded.