Sarah's Hot Summer in LondonbyA_Little_Show©
Sarah knew she somehow lost her way again when she spotted the now frustratingly familiar Danish embassy. She couldn't help smiling around clenched teeth as she silently cursed the British for their aversion to straight roads. "OK," she thought. A tiny pearl of sweat slid behind her ear with a tickle. "That way is Hyde Park," she deduced looking over her shoulder and wiping her brow.
"London's not supposed to be this hot!"
A pair of business men turned in shock at her outburst, so she gave them an unapologetic smile of recognition. The men hesitated that tiny moment too long before resuming their way. Sometimes it made Sarah self conscious, but usually it just bewildered her.
Another tangled wisp of auburn hair loosened when she unthinkingly scratched her scalp. Sun and the exertion of brisk walking brought an almost unnatural glow to her fair complexion, but sun also made her detested freckles more prominent. A objective observer might have been enthralled by her healthy glow and rosy cheeks, but in that moment, Sarah felt like a mess.
Jogging across the road during a lull in traffic, a familiar looking Indian restaurant sparked a moment of hope. "Is that the enticing one I spotted from the cab?" she wondered. From the moment her plane landed, Sarah indulged her compulsion to plan every meal. Experience traveling in her youth taught her about lasting impressions. Years later, she could almost taste the exotic dinner or hurried farmer's breakfast punctuating her adventures. If she thought about it at all, it was only later she'd place the memory in the French Quarter of New Orleans or that childhood hike through the Ozarks.
Shady crescent streets eventually guided the wayward American to her flat in the Mews. She'd selected it sight unseen based on its convenient location near Imperial College and remained delighted by her good fortune even as she trudged three flights up carpeted stairs. The rickety 19th century lift looked slightly more appealing after an extra half hour spent bewildered on the hottest day of the year, but trusting her life to that contraption remained unlikely. Instead, Sarah marveled at the preserved 1920s decor and the polished bronze handrail.
The building was a virtual time capsule. There was once a young man who would adore it. Sarah flirted with the idea of emailing him before realizing she probably didn't have his address. A sprinkle of loneliness or maybe suppressed longing threatened to dampen her mood, but she wasn't the type to indulge. The emotion passed without recognition, and she undertook the tedious chore of selecting something less sweaty to wear for her evening seminar. "A slow shower and change of clothes are what I need," she mused while she laid out fresh panties. Anticipation of cool water cleared away other concerns.
Slanting sun through tall windows silhouetted Sarah, while simultaneously forming a halo of light through the loose fabric of her white blouse. She stumbled a bit on the step to the lectern, drawing everyone's attention. The elderly Chairman introduced Sarah to the group, but he seemingly struggled to make eye contact with his American guest.
Sarah's speech compared Washington Irving's biographies and the fairy tale of Ichabod Crane to Sir Walter Scott's historical fiction. She scored some points, but the crowd was never going to accept comparisons between English masters and American hacks. Student after student exploited question and answer time with vaguely condescending criticisms posed as questions. The American weathered the assault with determination but inwardly withered.
"Yes, Cupper, you have a question?" The Chair recognized one of the men in the back row.
"Acknowledging themes of larger than life virtues extolled by Scott's fictional histories, do you rate Irving's larger than life biographies similarly fictional?"
Students and colleagues nodded. Glances darted throughout the hall as Sarah composed her reply. She stepped to the side of the lectern with a renewed bounce. "That was my whole point," she thought, "at least one person gets it." The man awaiting Sarah's reply somehow commanded the attention of everyone present. An unfamiliar thrill traveled like a shock along Sarah's spine. She consciously restored her poker face and adjusted her body language to project confidence while she elaborated on her earlier point.
As the lecture concluded, most of the audience milled around in small groups. Several brief introductions were made. A slightly desperate seeming man approached. "This is Robbie Arkwright, our Senior Fellow," the Chair grumbled with forced enthusiasm.
The man called Cupper then stepped into Sarah's sphere and gripped Robbie Arkwright's shoulders in the familiar way of old friends. "Robbie fancies himself a future Labour Party MP for Leeds North West. That he hasn't set foot in Leeds doesn't seem to matter," the newcomer teased.
The Chair clarified, "According to Robbie, research proves Leeds is available for the taking."
"He never stops explaining the incontrovertible logic of it," Cupper added with a grin, "When are you leaving for parliament?"
Showing surprisingly good humor and ignoring the question, Robbie turned and announced, "My skeptical colleague is Colin George Cupperton Wallace Tynsdale."
"Colin Tynsdale," he confirmed with a smile and tentatively offered a free hand to shake. "Call me Cupper. Everyone does."
Sarah briefly clasped the man's warm, dry hand and felt the impact of his sly smile.
"Come on Robbie. I've got a committee assignment I need to discuss with you." Cupper guided Robbie away using the arm still slung around Robbie's shoulders.
The Chair seemed suddenly relived and confided, "I have my eye on Professor Tynsdale for the Chair one day. He's our most popular radical-centrist."
"Do politics feature strongly in your Literature department?"
"Well, ah, you see, Department politics at least," he mumbled. "We're all wishing Professor Arkwright great success."
Sarah guessed the department would be happy to see Robbie move on to greener pastures.
Striding back to fill the lull in the conversation, Cupper changed the subject and refocussed attention on Sarah. "I enjoyed your perspective. I'd like to hear your insights on some other topics when you have a moment."
The Chair smiled with relief. "I planned to invite our guest to a small reception at my home, but perhaps you young people prefer the attractions of town?" It wasn't really a question. A shocking absence of finesse betrayed the old man's breech in social protocol.
"Only the Chair would call me young," Cupper asserted and stroked the salt and pepper grey in his neatly trimmed beard. "It took decades of instructing London's greatest and most impenetrable minds to produce this gray."
Sarah guessed Cupper couldn't be much older than forty which was not too far from her own age.
"I was planning a light dinner and a glass at the Huntsman. Do you care to join me? It's London's finest basement." Cupper smiled again.
"I've enjoyed the most satisfying meals in hidden warrens known only to locals." Sarah agreed while simultaneously wondering why she should be foisted off to the strangely compelling man. Imagined male conspiracies crossed her mind, but gut instinct confirmed she was making the right decision.
"It's settled then. Why don't I meet you outside this building at 9:00, and we'll walk over together. It's not far."
Cupper's eyes followed her glance to a small pendant on a long braided chain around her neck. It concealed a watch face still on North American time reading 3:25.
"Back here in half an hour then?", she asked pulling his attention away from her hint of cleavage back to her eyes.
"Right. It's a date then," he presumed and turned to walk away.
"How shall I dress?"
"As you are will be marvelous," he called without looking back.
Sarah suddenly realized she remained in a lecture hall surrounded by aimless people intent on small talk with her. She should have been exhausted, but unexpected invigoration coursed through her. "It's the adrenaline rush from facing the challenge of rivals," she theorized. Her face flushed and her heart pounded. There would be no time to return to her flat before the meal, and small talk with the dregs of her audience hardly appealed.
"That's very kind of you," she deflected a sincere compliment from an anonymous young man. "Oh thank you," she replied to another fleeting comment. "Please excuse me."
Cold water slowly filled the basin while the American faced a mirror. "Why oh why do the British insist on having separate taps for hot and cold water?" Sarah splashed her face. "Yep, a bit too much sun today." The same face and unruly hair as always regarded her in the mirror, but something was subtly different. She experienced a brief chill, and her nipples hardened while she watched.
"I should have worn a bra," she mused, but the only one she could have paired with the blouse remained damp with sweat from the afternoon.
Regarding herself, Sarah thought, "Still firm. There's an advantage to small breasts after all, and once again mom has been proven right in hindsight. It's too bad I can't conceal the freckles better, but then, who am I trying to impress? I'll likely never see the man again."
"Vivacious," was the first word from Cupper's mouth. She didn't hear it. "Thank you for joining me this evening," he added with more volume.
"I'm looking forward to the experience," she replied even as she thought, "I hardly know this man, and I'm following him to some basement."
Sarah experienced a pang of excitement at the sight of his lips curving into a smile. She must have said the right thing. His dark eyes, glittering with amusement, dropped down to her blouse. She should have been offended by the blatant ogling, but instead she felt a kind of pride.
"The Chair spoke very highly of you," she remarked while they strolled down a narrow street.
"He seemed equally impressed by your speech," he retorted.
"Are you teasing me?"
"Not at all."
"How far is this place?"
"We have arrived already."
"I'd like to wipe that smirk off his face," Sarah thought but instead doubtfully inquired, "This is the place?"
"I took the liberty of purchasing a bottle and picked up the Huntsman's excellent shepherd's pie. They await you inside."
"This is your flat?"
"Welcome into my home." Cupper's smile almost gave off its own light.
Once inside, Cupper pressed her against the wall. Sarah sucked in a breath of air. She could cry for help, but she didn't. His hands held her gently in place. His eyes glinted with a light brighter than his smile.
Cupper's warm wet kiss where her neck met shoulder produced a shiver. An unfamiliar electric jolt traveled her spine for the second time that day. His hands glided along her arms to her waist. Barely catching her breath, Sarah let him unbutton the blouse. He moved swiftly reaching each button in rhythm with her pounding heartbeat.
Still against the wall, Sarah permitted the blouse to open. Kisses descended from her neck to the rise of her breasts. She reached out and clasped his arms. Her pulse beat in her ears. She could push him away. He paused. His hot breath contrasted with cool evening air felt on an erect nipple. She pulled him closer until his check brushed sensitive skin and pressed the nipple against his lips.
She pulled off his shirt hardly interrupting the insistent kisses.
Cupper's arms now wrapped around her, and his hands caressed the small of her back until they slid beneath the elastic of her panties. He lifted her off the ground kneading her buttocks while sliding his tongue into her mouth until she discovered herself lowered onto his bed with no memory of the journey from the the wall.
Cupper admired Sarah's body revealed by slowly peeling away the remaining clothes. The expression of lust on his face made her feel entirely under his control, and yet, she could still scream. She might have decided to scream if her mind had cleared before Cupper's nose parted swollen folds and his tongue lashed the side of her clitoral hood. Sarah knew her only scream would come from the inevitable orgasm her body and her mind demanded.
Hands roamed her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, and all the while, he lapped. A small disappointing orgasm surprised Sarah, and Cupper sensed the changing tension of her body. He stood, dropped his pants, and revealed the throbbing red cock she suddenly craved. She needed to feel it inside her. She spread her legs wide and willed him to thrust.
He crawled over her with one leg on either side of her hips slowly brushing his chest against her nipples until he kissed her neck and nibbled her earlobe. His rod hovered between them close enough for Sarah to sense rather than feel. She wrapped her legs around his back trying to pull him into her, but he just laughed softly into her ear. "Damn the man for taking his own time," she thought.
Eternity waited while every nerve in Sarah's body tingled until the moment he parted her lips and slid slowly, but firmly deep inside her. Penetration brought waves of sensation unlike any Sarah could recall. His was not the first cock her body ever craved, but he was the first man to completely satisfy that craving. Pleasure washed through her body. Sarah trembled under his weight now pressing her into the sheets. "So this is what a vaginal orgasm feels like," she thought in the moment before thought became impossible.
Sarah's hands clawed the bed, her head lolled side to side, a wail more than a scream crossed her lips, and she lost consciousness for a moment only to wake with the sensation of still pulsing walls gripping the motionless cock inside her.
Sweat rolled down Cupper's cheek. His eyes went wild. His body tensed. Sarah felt a sort of fear for the first time that night. There was an unrestrained intensity and energy like a bomb about to blow. Her lover was going to take her body now, and she was going to give it.
Somehow, without withdrawing for a moment, Cupper turned Sarah face down and thrust violently from behind. He felt so wide and his thrusts so deep. Sarah gasped breathlessly into the mattress. His body slapped against her ass, pressing her down. The rhythm grew faster and faster. To Sarah's surprise, another orgasm built. She wanted it and feared it and needed it and thought she might lose her mind.
The explosion spread within her like a wave, and Cupper collapsed at her side on the bed. They panted in unison for some time without speech, until Cupper said, "I still want to hear your insights on some other topics, but now, how about that shepherd's pie?"