Car Boot Bargain Changed my Life

I looked for pots and pans and found passion.

[Bedtime Stories Number 4]

I got more than I bargained for at my local car boot sale. As I wandered the aisles of unwanted household items, looking at kitchen utensils for my two student flats, a young woman put a set of almost new saucepans on a tarpaulin in front of her car. She knelt to organise her display more attractively and did so in a way she was not intending. Her black shoulder length hair hung forward, obscuring her face as she rearranged her items. Not hidden was her cleavage in her sleeveless white tank top. Her slender arms were a delicious caramel colour, as were her breasts that giggled when she moved things around. She looked up and caught me red-handed.

"They're not for sale," she said.

"What aren't, the pots?"

"No, the other things you were admiring. I'm afraid they're spoken for." I reddened as she laughed. My interest hadn't offended her. Now I could see her face, I put her at about thirty-five. Her brown eyes and healthy complexion betrayed a Mediterranean heritage. She was lovely, but I sensed sadness about her.

"How much are they, the pots I mean?"

"They are nearly new, so I'm asking eight quid."

I pulled out a tenner. She apologised; she had no change until her husband returned. "Keep the change. The attractive display was worth a premium," I said.

Now she blushed. "Your shadow gave you away."

I thanked her for the tip and noticed other bits on her stall that could replace my breakages. I said her things were too good for my student flats.

"We're moving house, it's all got to go." Her smile wavered, and I sensed the move was not by choice. She had a photo of a fridge freezer stuck on her car window. I squinted at it.

"You should put your glasses on," she chided and took the photo off and handed it to me. Her hand was soft and warm. "I'm an optician," she added.

"And I'm forgetful. They are reading glasses. I can see everything else just fine."

"So I've noticed," she said.

Our playful flirtation ended when her husband appeared, bearing two polystyrene cups.

"Seventy-five quid mate, no offers." He was about the same age as her. English bloke, blond-highlights, not bad looking, but a cockiness about him that would soon wear on you. Her body language changed.

"Okay, son. It's a fair price. When can I see it?" In deference to my age, I must have had fifteen years on him, and because I was a potential customer, he softened up and she relaxed too. I wrote their number on a scrap of paper and promised I'd call to confirm an appointment tomorrow. My attention shifted to the stall next door, then I remembered. I turned back to ask where they lived.

"Not far away," said the husband unhelpfully. The woman sighed and gave me their address. As I walked off, I heard him berate her for telling me. "You're too trusting, Lou. If he's interested, I'll tell him when he phones." I looked back and caught the woman's expression. A look of apology had replaced her carefree smile from our conversation. I made a sympathetic face and moved on. Once again, it surprised me what some woman put up with. I had him pegged as one of those controlling blokes who liked the sound of his own voice.

I didn't phone the next day; instead, I turned up on spec because I'd lost the piece of paper. She answered the door puzzled and then smiled as she recognised me. "That's a welcoming smile," I said.

"I said you'd turn up. Simon said you were a time waster. He hates it when he's wrong." She seemed pleased. "He's gone out, I'm afraid."

"Sorry, I mislaid the piece of paper with your number on it. It must be with my reading glasses. Do you think we can manage without Simon's help?" My expression betrayed my opinion of him. She didn't take offense. She showed me into the kitchen and we did the deal for her fridge. I went back to my van for my trolley. A cup of tea was waiting on my return. I handed over the money and she shook my hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know your name. I'm Noo," she said.

"I'm Tom Hollis. Is Noo short for something?"

"It's short for Anoushka. Blame my hippy parents. Anoushka Williams, soon to be Anoushka Da Costa again. We're getting divorced, that's why we're selling all this stuff."

"I'm sorry to hear that. If it's any consolation, Anoushka is too exotic to link with Williams. Anoushka Da Costa is the name of an actress, or a writer, or a painter, or even a clairvoyant. Anoushka Da Costa is a name with infinite possibilities."

She smiled and laughed, cheered by the prospect. "Well, it is the way you say it. Anoooushka. Much nicer than Noosh when I was at school."

"Perhaps it's time for a fresh start with a new name." We sipped our tea. She knew I was trying to cheer her up. It was a bit obvious, but welcomed all the same.

"We're selling some other bits if you're interested?"

Upstairs we stood in the hallway between two bedrooms. Both beds were doubles but with a single pillow on each. "Every picture tells a story, doesn't it?" I just smiled sympathetically. "It'll be a sad story you can tell you wife when you get home Tom."

"I'm afraid not. Sally's gone. Hit and run. Drunk driver. Five years ago." It hurt me less saying it that way, but I did not expect it to affect her.

"Oh, my god, Tom. That's awful. I'm all woe is me, and you're..." Anoushka started crying and without thinking I drew her towards me to comfort her. Her head was on my chest. She felt warm and smelled nice. We stood like that for a moment until we became self-conscious. She pulled away. "I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't be like this. I'm embarrassed. I hardly know you."

"That's okay, Anoushka. You're grieving like I did. Grieving the end of your marriage." Then she was off again, and this time she came to me. I put my arms around her and just let her sob quietly.

"You must think I'm pathetic and needy?"

"You're human. It's our only strength." She looked up at me through her tears and I brushed the hair from her face. I wanted to kiss her, but I did not trust myself to leave it at a reassuring paternal peck on the forehead. The same thoughts were going through her mind and the moment hung until I diffused the situation with a joke. "Actually, there are a few things up here I am interested in. That's an attractive freestanding mirror. What would it cost me?"

"Tell me everything you want, then we'll do a deal." We were back to the playful flirtation of the car boot sale.

We made up another job lot. She was pleased. "Good. The sooner it's all gone, the sooner I can get out of here," she said. "Simon said he would help, but he's—"

"Been dragging his feet. Likes to do things in his own time. Likes to be in control?" I ventured.

Anoushka sighed. "You met him for a minute, Tom, but you've got his measure. He wasn't always like that, or maybe he was, but I didn't mind before." She thought for a moment before sharing. "He's moved in with his girlfriend and her kids. Some woman from work. They've been fucking for ages." She was entitled to be bitter.

"The deceit must have been hard to take, Anoushka. You know a house clearance place would take the lot. Are you apprehensive about moving on?"

"I'm supposed to be the clairvoyant, aren't I?"

I pondered for a moment. "The flats I let are both free at the moment. I have a deal with the Medical School at the hospital. New trainee doctors move in the first week of September. That would give you over two months. A change of scene might help you think more clearly about the future."

She was surprised. "I don't know. It's a very kind offer, but—"

"Anoushka, it can't hurt to have options. I'm taking this stuff there now. It wouldn't do any harm to have a look, would it? I'll drop you back here afterwards. I have to come this way to return the van to my mate."

She brightened up. "You load the van and give me ten minutes to get ready."

She hopped into the passenger seat wearing a similar top similar to yesterday and a nice summer skirt. She'd also put on lipstick. But most of all, she looked happy.

"What?"

"You look lovely and I look like a housebreaker. I would have smartened up for our first date."

"We're not on a date, Tom!" She laughed.

***

We stood in the living room of the downstairs flat. "Not the student bedsit you were dreading, is it?"

"It's lovely. And there's a garden. So near the Centre, too. I could walk to work in twenty minutes." Anoushka was trying not to sound too keen and failing.

"Off course, if you don't want this place?" I saw her face drop. "You could always live upstairs." She pushed me for teasing her. "Let me get the bits out of the van so I can move it up the road, then I'll give you the proper tour."

We drank coffee on the small balcony of the upstairs flat. I was halfway through repainting all the woodwork, so we were outside to avoid the fumes. The converted loft gave the flat a second bedroom. It was nicer than downstairs. "It will be ready by the end of the week, Anoushka. Just the carpets left to clean. You saw the new mattress in the bedroom. The old one was a bit of a science experiment." She pulled a face. "Well, they were medical students."

"Seriously, you would let me have this place for a few weeks? You'd have no problem letting it."

"Well, I let it to the Medical School during term time. I found it's easier to leave it empty for a few weeks in the summer. I tried Airbnb, but you have to service the place between lets, it's too much hassle." She was hovering. "I said you needed space to work out your options. I won't be hanging around. It's yours, Anoushka, no strings."

"I'd have to give you some rent, Tom. I could not take it for nothing."

"If you insist. The rent is one pound a month. That's two pounds fifty for the entire summer. Cash in advance, please." She smiled at my silly offer. "I'll leave you to think it over."

I went inside and a few moments later called her through. "I thought I'd air the mattress. No need to keep the plastic on it now." She stood in front of the mirror I'd brought from her. I stood behind her. We looked at reflection of a couple. I'm six-four and there was a gap between the top of her head and my chin. Her slim frame fitted inside my silhouette.

"Thank you, Tom. This so sweet of you. I am very happy to accept your offer." There were tears in her eyes. I put my hands over her shoulders and wiped them away. A weight seemed to lift from her with the decision to move on. She leaned into me and I felt the heat of her body. She felt my hardness against her bum. We said nothing, but her cheeks flushed. I pulled her hair up and kissed her neck. She sighed. "That's nice, Tom. I haven't felt nice for a while." I caressed her breasts through the teeshirt as she moaned. "Take it off, Tom." Her lacy white bra contrasted with her caramel skin. She turned around in my arms and pulled my head down. Her mouth was so warm. Our tongues clashed and senses went into overdrive. The feel of her made my hands tingle. I fumbled with the catch on her bra for a moment. Her dark nipples demanded attention and my lips moved from one to another as I tried to get a whole tit in my mouth.

Anoushka had to pull my hair to get my attention. "Fuck me, Tom. Put me on that bed and fuck me!" She pulled my top off and threw it on the mattress. "I don't want any stains on my new bed." We were naked moments later. Her body was lovely. A thin fuzz of black curls made a triangle above her pouty cunt lips. My fingers dipped into her wetness and circled her prominent clit. Anoushka moaned. "Fuck me, please Tom." Her desperation was a turn on, I threw her down and struggled out of my jeans. My cock was so hard it hurt. Anoushka pulled her legs back and opened like a flower.

"Oh God. You are so beautiful." I dipped my head to taste her and she objected.

"Please don't. I haven't had a shower this morning." Her muskiness drifted up inflaming me. I batted her hands away and put my nose in her pussy. "No Tom, don't smell me. Oh God!" My tongue on her clitoris quelled further objections. I nipped her engorged lips between my teeth. "Jesus, you're trying to eat me." Anoushka shook with her impending orgasm and pulled the back of my neck, feeding her cunt to my mouth. She arched off the mattress as she came, anointing my face with her wetness, before slumping down. She panted, frightened by the strength of her passion.

"It's been a while hasn't it?" She nodded. I leaned forward to kiss her and she was surprised when I inserted two fingers, searching for the root of her clitoris. My other hand flashed across her splayed lips.

"No Tom, its to soon. I need to—" Anoushka's second orgasm was more violent than the first. External and internal stimulation seemed to short circuit her. Her legs snapped shut on my arm, like a wrestler about to spin an opponent. Her grip was strong and I had to promise no more tricks before she would let me go.

We spooned in silence, each making sense of what had happened. I put my arm around her and she shrugged it off. On second thoughts she pulled it back and gave me a breast to hold. I gave her the lightest of kisses on the shoulder.

"You can stop that; my pussy is broken."

I complied but twisted my hips to nestle my aching erection against her wet lips and pulsed gently.

"And you can stop doing Morse Code with your cock."

"But its an emergency, love." I moved my hips backwards and forwards. After a minute her resolve was crumbling and she backed against me.

"I'm sore but you're making me want it again. You've turned me into a whore."

"A whore would not have your passion Anoushka." I turned her to face me and got between her legs. She was so wet my cock found her entrance unaided. Despite my earlier attention she was tight and I thought the heat of her would make me cum before I was in properly.

"You're stretching me, Tom. It hurts."

I took it as a statement of fact not a plea to stop, which I could not have done. We kissed for ages and she relaxed enough for me to slide in to the hilt. Our pubes meshed and I began easy strokes. I was not going to last long. I need not have worried.

"Fuck me hard, Tom. Fuck me and fill me." Anoushka dug her heels into my arse to bring me to the gallop. I pounded her small frame and came in several spurts. "I can feel your cum, Tom. Its everywhere. There's too much." She grasped for my sweatshirt to catch the spillage. I collapsed on her and we lay silent in a cocktail of our juices. Cum, sweat, tears, saliva; a forensic fiesta.

Eventually we stirred. "I need the loo, Tom." I eased out and Anoushka did that comical cross-legged walk that only women can do.

***

I'd made a pot of tea by the time she arrived in the kitchen, fully clothed. She'd taken just long enough for the guilt to settle in. I smiled and she gave a brief one in reply and looked away embarrassed.

"Tom, what just happened. It was lovely and I would not change any of it. But it's too soon and I'm not looking for—"

"I agree. Besides, first you have to work out why you did it. Did you just want comforting? Do you really fancy me? Are you just spiting Simon?" Her mouth opened in surprise. I held up a packet. "Biscuit, Anoushka?"

She looked at me as she drank her tea. A thousand next lines went through her head, but none seemed appropriate.

I jumped in. "Shall I tell you what I'm thinking? I want to thank you for a fantastic, spontaneous, passionate experience. I have been a very lucky man. But you are a vulnerable woman and I fear I may have exploited you. That was never my intention, but I like you and you responded and we let our bodies do the talking. I'm making no demands on you and I mean what I said earlier. You can have this place for the summer, no strings. I won't be in your hair. You've got enough on your plate for the moment."

Anoushka found her voice. "Thank you, Tom. I've no regrets. It was lovely. You made me cum so many times." She looked away embarrassed, but her eyes lingered on the bedroom, where in her mind we were still coupled. It was safer to look at me. "My hormones are all over the place at the moment. I've never slept with a man on a first date and look at me now."

"Its not that bad, Anoushka. You told me we weren't on a date, remember?" I laughed and she leaned over and slapped my arm. "I just need to pop out and put some money in the meter." I got up.

"Oh God. We've been here an hour?"

"Two hours." I almost hid my smile.

"I have to go. I can't believe I've been here fucking for two hours. I have to get home." She stood up.

I followed her out and locked up.

"Two hours, Tom!"

"Yes, but we wasted forty minutes drinking tea and talking."

She went to hit me again, but my strides were too long for her.

I parked up just before her place. "Good, he's not back yet. It will give me a chance to get this smile of my face. I don't know what I'll say to him, Tom."

"He's got no right to know anything. You have a piece of paper which says you are entitled to a private life. He's making full use of his." I felt mischievous. "Why don't you say that bloke turned up, but because he had to move everything himself, he knocked you down on the price? Give Simon twenty-five quid for his trouble." She laughed and kissed me on the cheek and slipped out of the cab. "I'll be in touch in a few days when the flat is ready. It won't be long, Anoushka."

I dropped the van back at my mate and he asked what I was looking so pleased about. Twenty-five years ago, we'd have been sharing the ins and outs of my afternoon over a couple of beers. Now I wanted to keep Anoushka to myself. "I got a sweet deal on that fridge freezer and a few other bits, Martin."

***

I played it softly, softly. After three days, I sent her pictures of my completed redecoration. My message: 'Just the carpet shampooing, then it's ready'. I didn't expect the non-committal reply, 'Very Nice'. I left it almost a week before texting, 'Everything is ready, if you are?' Her tearful voice on the phone two minutes later surprised me.

"Tom, I'm sorry I've ignored you. Can you get your friend's van again? I have to get out of here as soon as possible."

I picked her up the next morning. The front door was open, and she looked a pitiful sight, sat on her cases like an orphan. Some other bits of furniture had gone. I was looking at the wreckage of her marriage. She just about held it together as I loaded her luggage and a few keepsakes into the back of the van. Not a lot to show for their years together. She was grateful for my silence as we drove. At the flat she made tea while I unloaded her stuff. She was doing okay until she saw the flowers in a vase and my welcome card. I went to hug her; she turned away, then she turned back. Warm body against mine, hot tears on my shoulder. She looked at me all red eyed and snot-nosed, but I saw beyond that.

"Don't look at me like that Tom, I'm hideous. I don't deserve that look." She shut her eyes and opened them again. "Stop it." She tried to laugh, but it came out like a snort with it an enormous snot bubble.

"Now that is hideous," I said.

"Oh my God, you leave me no shame." She took my tissue, but it was a minute before she could look me in the eye again. "I haven't even spent a day with you. I should not feel so close. I should not have—"

"You are so certain of what not to so. Do you know what you should do, Anoushka?"

"No. And don't keep saying my name like that." I lifted her head up and wiped her tears with my thumbs. I kissed her tenderly. "Say my name again, Tom."

I helped her unpack. I could hear the cogs whirring in her head as she worked. "How do you know when a marriage is over, Tom?" I had the sense to know it was a rhetorical question. "Is it when he stops fucking you? Is it when he starts fucking someone else? Is it when he says he doesn't love you anymore?" She opened her bag. "Is it when you have this stupid piece of paper?" I looked at the divorce nisi and put it on the table. Anoushka trembled. She cradled her hands across her belly. "Or is it when, is it when—"