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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Monday morning was the best time to get things done. Walk into the town, coffee and catch up with bestie, a quick walk through town then home. The heat wave didn’t bother her the fire had burned inside for too long.
“Is your phone dead?”, “no why” “I haven’t heard from you in days, whats up” “nothing just been really busy”
Truth is she didn’t know what was up. The church happened three nights ago and she was still processing it. The lust was still inside her every waking minute she felt the heat between her legs, the gentlest of breeze on her neck the hardness in her breast. Every snatched moment of solitude was a chance to release her daemons, her bed had not been made for days instruments of pleasure lay scattered around. A walk in the park involved seeking temporary release in the woods, standing against a tree, skirt hitched up fingers exploring passion quelled but not for long.
“Another coffee ladies” “no thanks were good” “I see, just taking advantage of our air con then”, “actually its too cold for me” She never held back. She was not sure if the Barrista was the owner. Its not often you see a well groomed man over 40 working in a café and if he was the owner she could understand his tone.
“actually the aircon is warmer than the coffee” A wry smile passed across his face “well we are a business if you want somewhere to chat go to church” The last two words pierced her soul, for a split second he was fixed in his stare, where had see seen that stare before, where had she seen those cat like eyes before?”
“Tom, phone call” a voice from behind the counter called and the stare was broken. “L, you are trouble” “look I must go, try and not upset the whole of bury this morning it is a heatwave” “Cant promise she said with a smile half laughing after al these years why did she keep calling her L”
The charity shops in Abbeygate were always fun, lots of costume ideas for her games and parties. The one next to Prezzo was always a favourite. The tops rail was full but it stood out straight away. The simple white material the collarless neck, the touch. How the memories came back, the tomb her breasts rubbing on the rough stone. The buttons popping as she ripped the blouse off exposing her chest to him, her god, her fuck toy.
The walk to the gardens became a blur, the charity shop blouse in the bag reminding her, awakening the passions she thought she had controlled for the day at least.
She don’t know why she went to the cloakroom at the gardens but she found her self in the cubicle taking off her top and then the crisis happened, the black bra was far too visible. It was discarded. The need to wear the blouse was overwhelming the feel of the fabric. The memories. Its not far home and the blouse was not see through.
As she walked through the gardens she realised she had never read the information boards by the ruins. The one by the path next to the ruined stone arch was the nearest “The relics of the martyred Anglo-Saxon king St Edmund, whose remains were moved to this site in 903, and his shrine became a place of pilgrimage. The abbey itself was founded in 1020 and grew in power and wealth up until its suppression in 1539.”
The game of tennis in the background provided metranomic timing to her reading. As she finished the first paragraph she looked at the runs and it was there , the cat.
“these ruins were partilly restored by Thomas eldred in 1762”a soft deep voice from behind her read the next paragraph although she could not her the words she felt them on her neck so close was he behind her. All she could here was the beat of the tennis game nearby, getting louder and louder. She turned round his hands held her head still, the lightest of touches holding her still in his grip. His lips brushed against hers, how can the lightest of touches bring so much pleasure? His fingers lightly brushing her neck. The pulse in his fingers pulsing through her body. The cat called and they followed. The other side of the arch was unseen to the public exposed only to the summer sun.
Her fingers went straight to his shirt buttons, his soft touches feeding her passion. She explored his granite like chest with her first her fingers then gentle but powerful kisses all the while he undone his shirt exposing his strong chest. All the time the sound of tennis balls hitting strings was increasing was it louder?
No word were spoken, his hands had started their journey down her body, down to her chest undoing the button just below her breast. He knew what he was doing the button became worked loose, slipped out of its fastening, exposing the nearest hint of flesh. His hands now caressing the blouse she had purchased only an hour ago the blouse to replace the one from the churchyard, his finger tracing her nipples through the fabric, encouraging them, bringing them to life.
One more button became undone and then nothing. She was standing there waiting for him wanting him, looking at his body and those eyes, those cat like eyes. “game” came the excited call from the tennis court. His hands then ripped the blouse apart, buttons popping off, tears in the blouse her breasts now exposed to the summer sun. pulse racing she was exposed to him in the middle of summer in the remains of the priory. she collapsed into his arms this physical act was carried out so gently so caring, he laid her down on the grass holding her gently laying her down on the grass. On top of her but applying no pressure upon her his body giving her gentlest of touches all over. She was impatient now. She wanted him, she wanted to finish to be released. His hands pulled her black knickers to one side and she felt him, oh how she felt him. The feel of him inside her, the sound of the tennis increasing in its rhythm and intensity his ghost like ability to be on top but give no pressure. The only part of him pushing down on her was already inside her. She held his head close to her neck his gentle kisses the opposite to his thrusts all the time tennis providing the rhythm, the back drop the privacy.
She knew it was coming, her toes started curling her thighs tightened their grip. Her pelvic floor started shaking. However tight she gripped him his touch was till feather light then it happened. It happened first in her neck. His last light touch lighting the fuse. From here it went to her head, throwing her head back, open mouthed staring at the sun. It then travelled to her breasts gently brushing against his chest through her body between her legs, down through her thighs and finishing in her toes.
She was satisfied, for now.
She closed her eyes caught her breath, smile across those thin red lips, opened her eyes. He was gone, no trace, no discarded clothing nothing.
The cat leaned her against her protecting her, allowing her to regain her self. Summer breeze wrapping and cooling her body the thought of being naked in a public place far from her mind.
She only thought of her nakedness when the cat left her side. Once again her heartrate increased, laying on the ground with only her ruined blouse beside her . The cat looked at her and ran off, she could hear it calling and crawled to stay out of view, her rubenesque figure crawling towards the cat.
She opened the bag next to the cat. A white collarless blouse in her size was in the top of the bag. Hurriedly she put it on. She couldn’t help but notice the label. Thomas Eldred designs.
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