Catch and Release

It was hard to walk away. He'd wanted to back her up against the wall lift all those petticoats and make her scream. Drive his cock into her over and over. Dirty that perfect Ice Queen façade.

A hand brushed over the erection pushing against the zip of his linen pants.

"My, my, what have we here? A present all wrapped up for me?"

"I'm not so hard up that I need you just yet Jules."

The young and impossibly pretty gay man laughed and gave Drew's cock a friendly squeeze. "So who made this?" He craned his neck and looked out over the crowd, pausing when he noticed Grace. "Aaah our new American Ice Princess. I was wondering when you'd notice her."

"I noticed."

"So I noticed," Jules said with a pointed glance at Drew's crotch. "Who's the hunk-a-hunk with her?"

"Her boyfriend. Dr Dick."

"Seriously? Oooh I'd love a prescription from Dr Dick!" Jules gave a dramatic shudder which made Drew laugh. Jules was nothing if not entertaining.

"No he's Dr. Brent Sutcliffe and he's a dick."

"So she's taken then."

"Involved, but not taken I think."

Jules snorted. "Trust you to make that distinction. "

Jules moved to lean his back against the wall beside Drew. "She's a cool one my friend, I think she'll be hard to catch. I'm not sure even you're up to it."

Looking over at Grace Drew nodded, agreeing. Even though he still had the smell of her desire on his fingers. He might've hooked her tonight, but he knew she was in no sense caught.

Jules made an odd sound that made him turn to look at him. Jules was leaning closer and looking at him with an intensity that made Drew uneasy. "What?" he asked.

"I think she could be the one that makes you fall."

"Fall?"

Fall? Unlikely. More like those grey eyes would suck him in. Trap him.

Jules turned so that his shoulder rested on the wall and he was facing Drew front on, "Very interesting. Quite Freudian really, I said fail, not fall."

"I don't think I'm in any danger of doing either."

"Whatever you say," Jules said with another laugh.

"So, it's been great Jules but I'm off now."

"Places to go, people to do?"

Drew looked down at the erection pushing against his fly. "I've got to find something to do with this."

He walked away with a smile as he heard Jules's muttered, "I've got somewhere for you to put it."

* * * *

After she came back from the bathroom Grace immediately asked Brent if they could leave. She couldn't stand to be here a moment longer, the weight of what she'd done was suffocating—even heavier that the Satin dress.

Of course despite her pleading a headache Brent wouldn't leave until he'd done the rounds, thanking the appropriate people. He was just as much a slave to convention as Grace.

Maybe that's why they were together.

Why was she cataloging reasons they were together? She shoved the reasons and the question to the back of her mind and slammed the mental cage door.

Brent came back to her and took her hand, immediately she contrasted the thick digits with Drew's long graceful fingers.

Stop it.

She must have grimaced because Brent apologized for the delay and helped her to her feet. Brent was not big on apologies. Sure he spouted the words but they were rarely genuine. Looking into his truly concerned hazel gaze she felt a well deserved stab of guilt.

"Are you alright Grace?" Brent placed his palm on her head, feeling her temperature.

"I'm fine. Fine really. I just want to go home. I think it's the heat."

Brent nodded, placing a hand on her lower back he shepherded her through the crowd. When they were at the doors leading up to the hotel foyer Brent cursed. "Damn it! I left the car keys on the table. Will you be alright waiting here?"

Grace nodded and moved away from the doors, wanting to be out of the light. A light was a beacon to insects. Australian insects attacked with ferocity. She stood near the garden path that ran down the side of the building. It was darker, lit only by a sparse row of low garden lights. Grateful for the darkness, she sighed out loud. She wanted to stay out of sight and be alone with her guilty thoughts.

What had she done?

She heard a moan and gasp and without thinking looked to her left. Down the garden path she saw two figures locked in an intimate embrace against the wall. A man in a white shirt was pushed up against a dark haired woman. She had one leg hooked around his waist and her red floral skirt was rucked up over her hips. In the low light Grace could see pale naked skin. She obviously didn't feel the need to wear traditional Christmas underwear. The man's hand cupped her butt, long fingers splayed on the rounded flesh.

The woman moaned again and she heard the man's deep low laugh in response. A sound she'd heard before.

It was Drew Maxwell.

The realization made her gasp, too slow she brought her hand up to muffle the sound. It wasn't enough, he'd heard and she stood frozen in shock as his face turned. The low light wasn't enough to mask the glint of his eyes. He saw her.

She watched him. He pushed the woman's leg down and turned her to face the wall, all the while watching Grace. The woman had her palms on the wall, her forehead resting on the smooth stucco. With a tug so hard it made Grace gasp Drew pulled the woman's hips back. With a hand to the small of her back he made her flatten out, pushing until her legs spread wide and her torso was almost parallel with the ground. She lowered her head, spilling her hair down like a black silk curtain, it was long, so long it almost touched the ground. She pushed against the wall and spread her hands wide for balance.

The clink of metal told her he was unbuckling his belt. She found the sound as erotic as the scene. Grace watched his pants fall open over his hips to reveal his penis. Plum tipped it poked up from under his linen shirt. They watched each other. Drew looking at her as Grace intently watched his hand run up and down the wet tipped shaft. Grace tightened her legs, locking them together to stem the throb of her swollen sex.

After a few slow strokes she watched him sheath his cock in a condom. The sight of him rolling the thin latex over his cock had Grace clenching her thighs in anticipation. With one hand on the woman's lower back and the other on the root of his cock he guided his shaft inside her. The woman let out a deep guttural sound of pleasure. Grace felt her nipples tighten and her pussy flood. She watched his hips move in slow deep thrusts. Without intent she found herself rocking in time with his thrusts, as if he was filling her.

She wanted him to fill her.

"Grace. Grace Grace!"

She snapped her head around when she finally heard him. Brent was standing in the light, near the doors that led up to the foyer. He was shaking his head and holding up the car keys that dangled from his right hand.

"Are you coming?"

She nodded and started to move forward as she heard the wailing sounds of what sounded like an orgasm coming from her left. She didn't look over. Couldn't. Not while Brent looked on.

The foyer, the valet, the drive home all melded into a blur. The sound of Brent's key in the front door surprised her as she hadn't even realized they were home. Nothing had registered since she looked down the path.

Before tonight, if asked, Grace would have said that she had a good sex life. Nothing that matched the intensity of romantic films and popular literature, but still quite satisfying. It ran to a predictable pattern that she found comforting. The nights that Brent would stay at her house they would have sex, Brent would initiate after they'd bathed and readied for bed. The signal to start was a hand to her butt that pulled her hips closer to him in bed. She would nestle for a moment against his erection and then turn to him and they'd kiss. She'd roll over on her back and he would enter her. She usually came, not during actual sex but after when Brent would rub her clitoris. Short, sharp orgasms she'd thought to be quite satisfying. But she'd never wailed, never issued a sound like the woman on the garden path.

Never been taken against a wall. Never been taken from behind.

After Brent locked the door behind her she turned to him and pushed him against the wall. He fell back with a surprised yelp. She pulled his head down and captured his mouth in a grinding kiss.

"What Grace? What are you doing?" he spoke against her mouth. She ignored him, instead flattening her palm against his crotch. He wasn't hard, but he wasn't altogether soft either. She curled her fingers around his penis and milked it into hardness. When he was stiff she unbuckled his belt, the sound of metal spurring her on, making her think of Drew and the path. She pulled down his zip. Moving like she was possessed, she turned to face the opposite wall, shoving her hands under her dress she removed her panties. Rucking up her skirt she leant forward and splayed her hands on the wall, just like the woman on the path. She looked back over her shoulder at Brent's startled face. He was looking down at her bared ass shocked, as it he'd never before seen it.

She spread her legs wider and pushed her butt out at him.

"Please," she said rocking her bare bottom back towards his bobbing cock.

He took the hint and entered her. His hands went to her hips, the fingers digging in with each thrust. He did it wrong, not deep enough, not long enough. She tried to move her hips in the rhythm she needed but he took over, frantically thrusting like a rutting animal. Needing so desperately to come she took one hand off the wall and brought it down to her clit. She circled the swollen nub as Brent cried out hard and came inside her. It was too fast and too little. With her finger making the strokes that Brent would not she brought herself to orgasm, clenching hard around his softening cock.

She felt him slide out of her and pull her dress back down over her ass. He didn't speak. He didn't touch her again. She stayed leaning against the wall as he left. Her chest heaved, she was wet with sweat. The heavy green satin had darkened in a v between her breasts. Panting hard with her cheek pressed to the plasterboard she heard a door open and close and the shower turn on.

While he was showering she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. The house they were renting was old; the plumbing creaked and groaned so she knew when he had turned off the shower. Sure that the bathroom would be empty she went in, bathed, and conducted her usual nightly routine.

He was in bed laying in darkness when she entered. He said nothing. Lay still on his side of the bed. She pulled back the covers lay down on her back and waited. Still he said nothing and it wasn't long before she heard the soft snuffle of his sleeping snore.

He was asleep as if it hadn't happened. As if he hadn't just fucked her against a wall. If he could pretend, then so could she. Grace rolled over on her side facing the other wall. As she closed her eyes she thought of Drew, of imagining him guiding his cock into her instead of the red skirted woman. She slipped her hand down her stomach and to her clit. She played with the swollen nub before moving down to finger open the sticky lips of her cunt and dipping her fingers inside. She pushed one, two and three fingers deep and felt the muscles of her vagina snap tight.

Orgasm came quickly. Sharp and intense. She bit down on her lip and rode out the sensations.

She wiped her fingers on her stomach and breathed deep, letting sleep take her hoping to dream of Drew.

* * * *

The University where Grace worked closed between Christmas Eve and New Year's Day. As Brent didn't have to work either they booked a hotel north of Cairns in a resort town called Port Douglas. For nine days they toured the local sights, ate too much and baked in the sun. It was a luxurious postcard perfect holiday that should have pleased her, but didn't. Rather than feeling relaxed she felt stagnant, resentful and restless.

It wasn't until the fourth night at the hotel that Brent initiated sex. It was the first time since the Christmas party. When he reached over and tugged her back against his erection she felt both relief and disappointment. While she'd feared a discussion of the hallway sex, she realized at the point he pushed his cock against her back that she'd also been craving it—hoping that it may have opened up a need in Brent as it had in her.

It obviously hadn't.

Their sex that night and for the next four nights of their hotel stay went exactly like the usual routine. While Brent pumped away on top of her Grace thought of Drew. His wicked voice, his long fingers and the slippery desperate need he'd awakened in her. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Brent's fingers as Drew's, but the thick fingered fumbling of Brent was no replacement for the slick nimble touch of Drew Maxwell. After only a few minutes she gave up and faked an orgasm. Fake orgasms quickly became a part of her sexual routine. It appeared that Drew Maxwell had ruined her ability to come in Brent's bed.

What would happen when she saw him next? Did she want something to happen?

She'd never thought herself the type to have an affair. Those kinds of people were oversexed and illogical. Not like her. Why would anyone risk a long term stable relationship for mere sex? She'd never thought sex to be that important. To her it was simply a bodily function like any other, as such she'd found societal obsession with it quite baffling.

Not now. Now she understood.

She too was obsessed with sex. It filled her every waking thought and simmered in her dreams. She masturbated like a teenager. The shower massager had become an intimate friend. She'd thought of nothing other than sex and Drew Maxwell since the Christmas party.

She'd dressed with great care on her first day back to work, in anticipation of seeing him.

One, two, three days past without a glimpse of Drew.

The office was barren; as the next academic year didn't start until late February. She discovered most of the staff were on holiday. Grace spent her first week back not only without Drew but as the only working staff member in the Department.

The International Office was located in the basement of the Administration building. The halls hummed with the labored pulse of the building air-conditioning unit which was in a plant room at the end of the hall. Constructed in the mid 1960s when odd shaped public buildings were de rigueur, the Administration building was a bloated oblong that apparently was supposed to resemble a sailing ship. As much as she looked she could not see it. In tune with the nautical theme her tiny office had impractical rounded corners and only one high porthole shaped window that let in negligible light. It was dark, dank and cavernous; a stark contrast to outside where it felt like the sun was 10 feet away.

The time alone was useful. Not only for giving herself the resolve to banish thoughts of an affair with Drew Maxwell, but also to learn her job as coordinator for visiting American students. The university had an academic exchange program with ten different United States Colleges. Her job was to liaise with those institutions and act as a counselor for the exchange students. When the academic year started in late February she would have 300 students to supervise and two part time staff to help.

Slowly over January staff began to return. The first of which was Jules Starling, the office receptionist. Jules was a font of information, both procedural and gossip. She found herself gravitating to him, which was odd because his vibrant personality was not one with which she would usually click. She put it down to proximity and also to Jules relentless good cheer. He was truly irrepressible and even if she put her mind to disliking him Grace wasn't sure Jules would let her actually do it.

"Ooh, grey today. Matches the eyes."

Jules made a habit of stopping by her office every morning to comment on her dress choice. As he usually brought good coffee with the fashion commentary Grace didn't complain. Despite the relaxed dress standards of her colleagues Grace had been unable to break out of the habitual need to wear suits to work. Jules, himself a slave to fashion, had decided that Grace was his kindred spirit—his fashion twin—she knew this because he declared it in a loud voice on his second day back.

"Stockings?"

Grace swiveled her chair and stuck a leg out from behind her desk so Jules could see her hosiery. He placed the steaming mug on her desk and reached over to run a hand up her calf. "Mmmm, silky,' Jules purred.

Grace was laughing and Jules was still bent with his hand wrapped around her calf when she heard that voice.

"What have we here? Do you covet the shoes Jules or has the lovely Miss Hawthorne convinced you to switch teams?"

Drew's voice made her jump, she shifted in her seat as if to stand but Jules had a firm grasp of her ankle and wouldn't let her move. Rather than be embarrassed about being found caressing her leg, Jules played it up. Moving into a crouch he held her ankle up as if to present it to Drew and with his other hand slowly ran it up her leg until it rested just below the elastic band of her stay up stockings. Something electric passed between the two men with her as a conduit. An undercurrent that was palpable if not easily understood.

"You're back," Grace said in an overly friendly tone, trying to dispel the tension. She sat upright and gently removed Jules's hand from her leg.

"Yes," Drew replied, his ice blue eyes following Jules as he moved up from his crouch to sit in one of the guest chairs. In a childish move Jules deliberately bumped his shoulder into Drew as his passed. Rather than frown or retaliate Drew surprised her with a quick and affectionate laugh.

"Did you spend Christmas with family?' Grace asked to make polite small talk, hoping in a way to reset their relationship. Making it seem as if she couldn't recall that the man standing in front of her had pressed his fingers inside her when she was slippery and wet.

"No family," he said as he sat in the other guest chair beside Jules. "How about you, did you enjoy Christmas with your boyfriend?"

"Dr. Dick?" Jules asked with an angelic face.

"Doctor what!"

"Dr. Dick." Jules looked back and forth between a shocked Grace and Drew. "Isn't that your boyfriend's name? Drew told me it was."

"Really?" Grace turned her head to look at Drew who didn't look at all flustered; he was looking at Jules with an amused half smile.

"Oh no silly boy. You must be confused with what you asked Santa for Christmas Jules. Boyfriend's name is Brent. Dr Brent Sutcliffe. Isn't that right Miss Hawthorne?"

Jules leaned towards Drew and gave a deliberate and measured look at his crotch. "No Drew darling, you misheard. I asked Santa for a Big Dick, not Doctor Dick."

Grace sat back and watched the interaction with curiosity. It was like a kind of smutty fighting. Drew didn't seem averse to Jules's obvious interest, not like any other heterosexual man she knew. Not like Brent. He avoided homosexual men as if he was afraid their sexuality might be contagious. No way would he ever sit and comfortably play flirting verbal games with someone like Jules.

"So did the good doctor get you everything you wanted for Christmas?" Drew asked.

Grace couldn't help the flush that rose at Drew's tone. It was blatantly sexual. Maybe just to her because when she flicked her eyes to check what Jules was thinking he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Yes Gracie what did you get for Christmas? You haven't told me," Jules said, standing up and making his way to the door.