A Chance Encounter

Deep breath, "Hell, of course you can stay. Stay for as long as you like!" She did!

She stayed for the whole weekend. She seemed insatiable. We watched movies together then did them. Things I'd never imagined doing with a woman. If the girl took it in her arse, she wanted to, and in the same position. On top, cowgirl, reverse, pile-driver. You name it I fucked her cunt and her arse in every way I'd ever imagined and then some. She deep-throated, she swallowed cum. Everything that you could imagine. It was as if she was trying to expand her experience -- for what reason I didn't know.

And the strangest thing. She didn't tell me her name nor ask me mine! We lived on what I had in the flat, tins, frozen stuff. She wasn't a bad cook, when she took the time that is. Most of the time she was trying to get me to screw her in one way or another. I lost count of my orgasms. Hers, well god knows. By the time we went to bed on Sunday night I was fucked -- well she was fucked, I was knackered. She was different as well, sad, melancholy. Kissed me a lot, stroked, petted. Didn't realise the significance until the next day.

The alarm woke me. Work called. How the fuck I was going to manage I didn't know. I felt like a hollow shell and my cock and balls actually hurt! She'd sucked me dry. I heard the paper come through the door so struggled out of bed, picked it up, and into the kitchen. She was still asleep, at least I thought she was.

Sleepily put on some coffee, stuck some bread in the toaster -- very stale bread -- then sat at the table and glanced at the paper. SHIT!!! It was her. Her picture staring out at me. Not a very good one but her nonetheless. Caught the headline, "Wife of financier sought after murder".

Very deep breath, deeeeeep! I read quickly. Seems her husband had been found on the kitchen floor with a filleting knife sticking out of his chest. Just one stab wound. Trousers half undone. I sat back to think. Strange, I wasn't worried. Too late anyway. It didn't seem like her. Mind you, the papers never get it right do they.

"You know then!" I turned to see her standing in the doorway. She was looking at the paper.

"Is it true?" Again, the answer didn't bother me. I stood and faced her.

"Yes." Sad. "I killed him. Oh . . . I am so sorry."

"You must have had a reason?"

"Oh no, I'm not really sorry about that. Well of course I am." she added sadly, "I meant that I'm sorry for using you."

"Using me?"

She reached up and stroked my cheek. She was so sad, defeated. "After," she nodded at the paper, "I just sat. I was stunned. Then I realised I would go to prison. Prison for a long time. Oh dear, I am so sorry." I still didn't understand. "I went out to find a man. A nice, kind man, who would make love to me. I found you!"

I swallowed. "I wanted to take some memories into prison with me. Good memories." She smiled, "Very good memories, and you gave them to me but it wasn't fair. I should have told you."

Do you know, I didn't care. I reached out and held her. "It's all right," I whispered, "it was great, wonderful. I've never experienced anything like it."

"Good," she said softly, "Now. I'd better go. They will be searching for me." I didn't want that. Just then I didn't know why but I wanted to protect her, cosset her, and shield her from harm. If she killed him she must have had a reason -- that was good enough for me.

"No," she said pulling away, "I must go. It's not fair."

"Look, just sit and have a coffee. I'll pop out and get some food and things and we can talk. Another couple of hours won't matter. Please!" What was going on here, inside me?

She reluctantly agreed and sat whilst I poured a coffee. I left her sitting at the kitchen table. I should have known really. She wasn't there when I got back. I sat, read and re-read the article in the paper. I wanted her, wanted her badly -- and not just for the sex. There had been more, I was sure. Hadn't there?

Fool, I thought, bloody fool. You're on the rebound. Down, sad, lonely. You're just some guy she chanced upon. Could've been anyone. Don't kid yourself. Just a chance meeting?

Now -- all my old readers -- you know me too well. I don't end it here because I like happy endings. Too much sadness in the world already to add to it with fiction. So, if you're happy to finish here please do so. Take the characters where you will!

If you want to find out the end I envisage then read Part 2.

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