Reaching the Summit Ch. 03

Author's note: As always, my thanks to my partner and editor for her forbearance and assistance. And to my readers, especially those who have made public comments or mailed me. Your enthusiasm and support is a continuing inspiration.

There is some Scots in the dialogue in this story, and occasionally the characters lapse into broader Scots when they are upset or excited. That is how it is when one culture (Scots) has been overlain with another (English), for centuries. I hope most Scotticisms can be understood from the context.

It will help your understanding of this if you read Chs 1 and 2 first. Don't be put off by their 'romance' categories, there is lots of delicious sex! - as well as a developing tangle of interpersonal relationships.

Julie has just offered John her arse for the first time, after he had spent a very difficult evening with his ex-wife...

*****

He'd known when he licked her sweet arse before, that she was anally sensitive, open. But his cock throbbed at her enticing words and he followed her to the bedroom, excitement rising. It'd been a long time since he'd spunked in a woman's arse. He lusted for this. So did his cock. It was prodding his trousers.

In the bedroom she dropped the gown from her taut body and kissed him, pressing breasts and loins to him.

- Sweet man, I'm so glad you didn't stay with her. My whole being needs you. Do me. Fuck my hot arse.

- On the bed, Julie. On your back, I need to see your face as I take you.

He shrugged off his clothes while she lay on the bed, watching him. Her eyes widened when they fixed on his erect cock. He moved to the bed and raised her legs over her shoulders, scented her need, saw the wetness. Bent his head in adoration, mouthed her lovingly. Rubbed her copious juice round and into her arse, finger smarming it there.

- Do it man. Get it in me.

Sweet fuck, he was trembling with excitement. Such a wanton hussy... but he paused:

- Where's the lube?

- No need for lube. Stick it in me.

His cock was dripping, red and angry. She held her knees wide over her shoulders so her cunt and arse were open, exposed to him. Fuck, such gorgeous vulnerability! He nudged her anus with the head, felt her tremble. The sphincter relaxed and he inched in gently, not wanting to hurt her. Their gasps were simultaneous and they smiled in each others' eyes. He pressed harder, felt himself sink into her tight welcoming muscles. Jesus this was so beautiful. But his concern remained: she was dry in there. So dry it was almost painful for him, so he knew it must be worse for her.

- Stop faffing about John. Do me.

So he did. Edged back and thrust again, faster this time. Watched her grimace, felt his cock burn. Withdrew and pierced her arse again, and now she had one hand on her cunt, unheld knee on his shoulder. He looked down and watched her fingers slide into her vagina, realised what she was doing. Started to drive in earnest now, as her digits dug into herself, rubbed furiously. Eyes on her face as he fucked into her, feeling the heat of painful friction. She was panting and her fingers moved faster. Then her entire being spasmed, and he felt the warm liquid squirt him, trickle down round her arse. So fucking beautiful. He pulled right out and rubbed copious ejaculate into her, slabbered his cock in it. This time he slid in easily and she smiled at him, post-orgasmic glow suffusing her face, eyes soft with longing:

- See? Best lube in the world.... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

He lost it. Pummelled her arse so she was squirming and grunting as each stroke drove home, her hips rising from the mattress, muscles grasping him, sweet dirty girl, so beautiful. Sweat poured from both of them as they writhed and mated, thrilling to their unnatural union, so forbidden in the presbyterian world in which they had grown up. But he was past all care now, knew she was too, the needy urgency of fuckfever simmering just under boiling as they gasped and grunted their passion. Her hand went to her clit, rubbing in the wetness, and he watched her irises turn up, felt her muscles suck him in irrevocably. He exploded in her, lustspunking her bowels, and she wailed, an impossibly high pipedrone, as she felt herself fill with his juice. Her legs fell to his sides and he leaned into her to kiss her panting mouth:

- Love your arse Julie.

She smiled, pure serenity:

- So do I. Love what you do to it, to me. Glad you didn't stay with Pat? she giggled.

- I wasn't ever going to stay with Pat lassie. That was by a while ago, won't ever come back. I'm your man. Suspect I might be for a while.

He shifted to get more comfortable, slithering on their sweat, and slid out of her in the movement.

- Wicked bastard, she sighed, poor bum has cock-deprivation now...

- So glad you like me there sweet. Your arse can have him any time she wants.

They kissed deeply, lingered together lazily, immediate lust spent, the warm sweetness of faces and hands mutually exploring. Eventually she turned to glance at her clock:

- It's after one John, we both have work in a few hours. Can you sleep?

- Aye, my insomnia's having a break. And I need to get back and change into a suit for work. Maybe I'd best leave now?

- No fucking way you're leaving now John. How dare you suggest that! When d'you need to be up?

*****

His finger silenced the alarm as soon as it sounded. He gazed at Julie's face, still lost in sleep. Kissed her gently. Then cocked his ear to the muffled sounds of the city stirring outside. It had snowed he knew, and heavily, very unusual in Glasgow. Fuck. He was due in Edinburgh at ten, hoped the trains were running to time. Eased himself from bed and padded to the uncurtained window. Shit, about a foot of the stuff. He pulled his shirt on and went to organise tea. She was still asleep when he brought the mugs in. He gently kissed her eyelids, watched as they fluttered open:

- Good morning Julie. Your tea's on the cabinet. I just have time to drink mine, then I need to offski.

- Oh my sweet man, how lovely, being brought tea in bed two mornings running. I really can't remember when that last...

- Wheesht lassie. I don't want to know, least, not now. Let's just enjoy our new life? But -- he started pulling on his clothes -- I really must go. Need to be in Embra by ten, and fuck knows what the snow's done to the trains.

- John, we're still meeting after work?

- Oh yes lass. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Doublet at six? Now -- shrugging on his goretex -- must go. A bientôt.

A brief embrace, and he was out the door. She lay for a few moments, sipping her tea, reflecting on how right it was, how they perfectly matched each other's physical needs, the deep friendship and interests they shared. She shivered as she remembered him in her arse last night, the wonder of their shared orgasm. They had cum together every time they'd screwed. So far anyway. She smiled wryly: that cannie last! She eased from bed and grabbed her gown, made for the shower. Felt his spunk running down her arse. Aye well, another day!

*****

The nine o'clock Edinburgh train at Queen Street was crowded, as always, but he got there just in time to secure a seat. No indication, for once, that the heavy overnight snowfall had disrupted the timetable. Just as well, he had an important meeting in the Parliament. He tried to read the Herald front page as the train powered into the tunnel, but couldn't. His mind was on her. What a beautiful, natural, couple they made! His mind wandered, dreaming a possible future for them together. The keystone in the arch was that Dougal and Hamish loved her already. And Pat... well she'd made her bed. She was welcome to it. After all that had happened between them, he was no longer responsible for her. Julie and he were destined to be a couple. He hoped. Time would tell.

- Have your tickets ready please!

He snapped from his reverie, extracted the ticket from his pocket. Then got down to his day, studying the briefing notes for the meeting. His mobile sounded well past Linlithgow.

- John?

- Hi Pat. Good morning. To what do I owe this pleasure?

- Piss off. I need to know. The boys told me this morning that you were climbing with Julie on Saturday. Tell me what's happening. Please?

He sighed. She always needed to be in charge, had to know everything that was happening. Always had. Well, this time she could wait:

- We went climbing. For the hundredth time. So? You suddenly have a problem with that? You never had before.

- You slept with her afterwards, didn't you? That's the only reason you'd turn down a fuck with me. Or anyone. I know you John.

- Look, we'll speak about this presently, and not on the phone. The train's approaching Haymarket and I've a meeting. And a busy week. I'll call you and we'll fix a time to blether properly. See you Tuesday when I collect the boys. But we won't have much time to talk then, I know it's your night out. Now, I need to move. Bye. Speak soon.

He put the mobile in his pocket, sighed. He should've expected this.

*****

The Doublet was busy, as it sometimes was at this time: manual workers and professionals alike in for a drink after work. It was one of the reasons she liked this traditional place, its casual democracy. She glanced round the crowd, didn't see him. Looked at her watch. Five to six. Ordered a Laphroaig, took it to a table visible from the door, was hardly seated when John burst in, looking flustered. He squeezed through the crowd, bent to kiss her:

- How was your day Julie?

It was just a friendly kiss but it sent sparks through her:

- Fine. The kids were angels, for once! How about yours?

- I'll tell you when I've got my pint. He was grinning.

She couldn't help but watch as he was served, and wended his way back to her through the throng, pint in hand.

- So, your day? she smiled.

His eyes ran over her, demure skirt and blouse hinting at her fit sexiness beneath, exquisite Fair Isle jumper for the cold. He loved how she dressed, advertising nothing, suggesting everything. God, was he a lucky man!

- Busy and successful. Mission accomplished at the Parliament: I think I got our points across. Then the office this afternoon, the usual. But...

She saw his awkward hesitation, took his hand in hers, pressed it:

- Aye?

- Um...

He glanced up but couldn't meet her eyes:

- Pat called me on my mobile. On the Edinburgh train. She's put two and two together and got four.

Julie's smile faded:

- Well, as you said, she had to know sometime. Cannie tell you I'm happy it's so soon though. What did she say?

He outlined the conversation. She sank her back against him and his arms went round her litheness. Both were more comfortable for the contact, relaxed into each other. Absorbed their mutual strength. She pulled away from him suddenly, turned and kissed his mouth:

- John, I need to talk to her. She's my pal, and if I can avoid it, I don't want to lose her. Give me your mobile sweet, I don't take mine to school.

She snapped it open but realised that she couldn't have a conversation in the noisy pub:

- Not that I don't want you to overhear, but I don't want half the West End knowing our business. Just nicking outside to call her.

She made to hurry out, but he lifted her coat:

- Still freezing out there, numpty!

She drew the coat on with a smile, then pushed firmly through the pub crowd to the door. A few minutes later she was at his side again, clutching two new drinks.

- So?

He raised his pint to her dram, chinked.

- So, you and I aren't eating together tonight John. I'm invited round for dinner with her. And the boys. Now. After they're down, she and I need to have it out. I fear it'll be a stramash, but it has to be done.

- Heavens! You know you're entering the tigress' den? You sure you want to do this? I mean, I'm happy to take the brunt of it, please allow me to? You know how she can be? I know how to handle her anger better, I think. Call her back and cancel, please? Let me deal with it, it's my job; she's my wife. Was.

- Sweetie -- she kissed his brow -- you don't know all of me yet. This is my business, with my friend. For both of us. All five of us actually. Now go home, and please eat. And don't get pissed. I might need you later, sane and sober.

She handed him back the mobile, kissed him, and swept from the pub.

He sat back, drained the rest of her Laphroiag, glugged his pint. Got another. Knew she could match Pat's tigress. Whit a wumman! But he knew she was right, he couldnie get pissed the night, of all nights. Drew the Herald from his briefcase. Ahhh, salvation. Manon des Sources was at the GFT. If he hurried, he'd just time to grab a meal before it started. He left the pub, part-drunk pint left on the table.

*****

He was sitting in the bar at the GFT, still immersed in the power of the film. It was always a trial with French films, his mind flickering between subtitles and a struggle with the soundtrack. Nowadays as his grasp of French deteriorated, the subtitles were winning. His mobile rang:

- John, I'm just home. Where are you?

He told her.

- Get here. Now.

He heard the tension in her voice, but the phone clicked dead. Gathered coat, scarf and hat, donned them as he headed for the taxi-rank. Her face was tear-streaked when she opened the door to him:

- Oh my sweet, come here.

Her arms folded round him, more possessive than sexual. He kissed her face warmly, led her to the settee in the living-room. Kissed her again, concerned at the worry in her eyes:

- Tea?

- No John, something stronger please. She sniffled.

He returned from the kitchen, glass of ale for himself, G&T for her:

- Tell me? he murmured.

She gulped down the gin, held the glass out to him. He went to the kitchen, refilled it. Sat close beside her, sipped his ale, looked in her troubled eyes:

- Not the easiest of evenings then?

She was rolling a cigarette, offered him the pouch when she was done. Lit hers straight away, drew the smoke down deeply:

- Hardly! Christ, saw a side of Pat I didn't know existed...

- Aye, I can imagine. Please tell me? But first, how are you now?

She snuggled into him then, head against his chest:

- Och, I'll survive. But you were right enough, the tigress' den. And her fighting as she saw it to defend her cubs! Dinner with the boys was her delicious best, lamb casserole, and very civil blether of course. Your boys were all over me, wanting to know what I'd taught you on the hill on Saturday. It was lovely seeing them again, always surprises me that two young lads can be so gracious. They asked that I tuck them into bed, so I did, and read for them a bit. They wanted Roald Dahl and I indulged them, though I worry at the man's misogyny.

He stroked her head, ran his fingers down her flank.

- Pat and I chatted politely over coffee, till she went and checked they were asleep. Then she let rip. In the name of the wee man! Talk about Jeckyll and Hyde! She lost the heid completely, shouted. She trusted me, I'm her best friend, I knew she wanted you back. And I could do THIS to her, total betrayal, etcetera. I was beelin. Held my hand up in front of her face. Tellt her tae shut the fuck up, I wisnae takin this. Stood up to leave...

- Oh my sweet, glad you could stand up to her. It took me fifteen years to learn how to do that.

He bent to kiss her mouth but she pushed him away:

- She stood up and grabbed me, pulled me to her, kissed my throat. Apologised. Begged me to stay and tell her what was happening. We sat down. I... I had to tell her John. Honesty's the only way between friends. Tried to explain what happened between us on the hill. And after. Well, in outline ...She hudnie a clue whit I wis on about, but she heard me out.

All he could do was stroke her hair. Knew she wasn't really with him now.

- She asked me a million questions of course. Most of which I demurred to, couldnie directly answer. But I did let her understand that you and I are not a casual fuck. She knows me well enough. Knows I don't do casual fucks -- she smiled -- well, not very often! She calmed down a bit. I think we parted ... with a sort-of understanding. I hope so anyway. I called you as soon as I got home.

She pulled his mouth to hers then, but he sensed her heart wasn't in it; it was a politeness, a formality.

- I think... I feel that you need to be alone tonight Julie?

His heart was pounding, but he thought he knew where she was.

- Yes, you're right. Not tonight, my sweet. But...

She lifted her handbag from the table, drew two keys on a ring from it, handed them to him. He looked at the tag on the ring: her photo encased in plastic. She whispered:

- Nobody in the world has ever had my keys. Or brought me tea in bed three mornings in a row. Will you be the first John? Please?

He bent and kissed her mouth:

- You know I will. See you in the morning.

He slipped through her door before he could change his mind, strode out through the snow for his flat.

When he arrived the light on the phone was blinking. He didn't press the replay button, couldn't. But he keyed 1471. Aye, Pat's number. He couldn't cope, not now. Undressed and slipped into his cold bed. Lay trying to sleep, couldn't. Eventually got up, pulled on his heavy winter gown. Went to the phone and hit the replay button:

- John? You'll know by now that Julie and I have talked. Please call me back? I need to know you didn't fuck her tonight?

He glanced at the clock. Half twelve. Shrugged. She still thought she owned him - six months after she'd given him his marching orders! But. If it helped her to know, why not? He really didn't want her to hurt more than necessary. Hit 3 and waited as it sounded at the other end. She picked it upon the fifth ring:

- John?

- Reporting in. Unfucked, as you wished.

- BASTARD.

The phone went dead. He returned to bed. Eventually slept.

*****

Julie's eyes flickered open at the kiss. She was emerging from a dream, till she became aware the kiss was real. Her strange new man. He looked in her eyes, nodded to the tea on the cabinet:

- Three mornings in a row, as promised.

Her arms went round his neck, she wasn't sure how. Drew him to her sleepy mouth:

- Mmmm... I could get used to this. Promise me tea in bed for the rest of my life?

Her hand moved over her mouth:

- Oops, sorry. I didn't mean...

- Aye you fucking did! he laughed. And if you're lucky that's what you'll get! Now, whilst you get yourself organised, I'll make breakfast. I brought some stuff in. What d'you fancy?

She pulled him down to her mouth again:

- You, ya numpty! Get you clothes off and get in here. -- she glanced at the clock -- Just time for a quickie. Now. Do it.

Fuck he loved the command in her voice, the directness of her need. But this time it was going to be on his terms. He'd sensed something in her, just a couple of times: eye movements, body language. He needed to examine that, test his senses. See how far he could take her. He drew the flogger from the pocket of his heavy winter coat, laid it on the cabinet. The tendrils fell over the edge, stroked her cheek.

- If I do you might regret it.

She shuddered. She'd heard of such things of course, had never experienced anything beyond delicious rough fucks, a few slaps. But her cunt flooded when the tendrils brushed her face.

- Remove the duvet. And your nightie.

He smiled as she obeyed, saw her hands tremble. When the flimsy garment was over her head she sat there naked, nipples pointy. For once she couldn't meet his eyes. He knew then:

- Lie back Julie. Touch your cunt for me. Her eyes were in his now when she lay flat, fear there, but excitement too. Trembling fingers slid down her belly. Into the curls. Stopped.