Chanel Awakens Me from Myself

"I don't care, watch as much as you want, but stop treating me like one of the pornstars you watch. I don't want to be called slut, or dirty bitch, and I want some warmth back in our lovemaking."

He was not happy. I saw his eyes burning as he glared angrily at me. Having his sexuality brought into question didn't sit well with him.

At that stage, I had an epiphany: I didn't care. That shocked me; I had stopped caring. I was almost happy when he left. It was a moment of clarity; I was looking forward to him flying out.

It was Mum, surprisingly, who asked the most pertinent question. "Honey, do you want to save your marriage?"

"Of course I do," I spluttered. "If I could get my old Ryan back, I would be happy."

"It doesn't seem like it lately, Honey. If you do want to save it, then you need to try and lighten up."

It did cause me to question myself. I decided Mum was right. If we were to save this disaster, I would have to try harder.

On his next visit home, I tried to bring back some warmth. I started with a blow job, but not as he wanted. I took my time, made it slow, a long lingering luxurious blow job. His hard cock like a steel bar as I made love to him with my mouth. I licked and kissed his swollen knob, caressed his balls softly, sucked them into my mouth, swirled them around.

His response was to push my head down hard, making me choke. I pulled back, giving him a nasty glare. "What the hell, Ryan?"

He winced. "Sorry, but Jesus, you're driving me crazy here, Lou."

"Then just relax, and enjoy. This is going to take a while. I'm enjoying myself."

I went back to my blow job, I did go a little faster, a little deeper, but I wanted to make it loving and warm, rather than fast and furious. Every time I sensed his orgasm building, I backed off, using my tongue to swirl over the leaking head, kissing and licking the fat shaft.

"Lou, please, baby, you're killing me. If, you're not going to finish me, let's fuck."

I was knelt beside him on the bed, my body out of his reach. "Don't be in such a hurry. We have all day; we can make love afterwards, I'll make you come, babe, just don't rush me."

I was enjoying it, but he took matters into his own hands, I sucked him to almost the point of no return, enjoying his anxiety. I was about to back off when he grabbed my hair viciously and started thrusting into my mouth. There was no love in it. He just fucked my face like I was some cheap whore.

"That's it, slut, take it, fuck, I'm going to come, suck it, drink it down," he growled as he exploded in my mouth. He erupted violently, spurting jet after thick jet into my choking mouth.

Afterwards he flopped back on the pillow and sighed. "Wow, fuck that was awesome. Thanks, baby. I needed that."

I gave him an angry glare, and spat what remained of his sperm over his face. "Glad you enjoyed it arsehole, because it's the last sex we'll be having today."

"Aw, fuck. C'mon, baby. Jesus you were killing me. Don't be like that."

"Forget it, Ryan, I was trying to do something nice for you, but you had to turn it into some sleazy shitty act. Oh, and by the way. If you ever call me that again, you will find all your shit out on the road next time you come home."

That was the end of any intimacy on that trip, and the following ones were no better. I was quickly coming to realise it was getting to an irretrievable point. I was actually over it.

I had a cry on a couple of girlfriend's shoulders, which turned into a drunken pick on your hubbies night of giggles and laughter. Throughout it, though, they were quick to express what they thought, and they were adamant. "Just divorce his sorry arse."

I have to say, I was starting to feel like that was my only option. He refused to acknowledge he had a problem. His behaviour, if anything, became worse. Clearly he was getting advice from his redneck work mates.

I tried time after time to get him to give up the shitty lifestyle, but for whatever reason, he seemed to have fallen in love with it.

Back home, all his mates treated him like a god. He loved telling everybody how much he was making and how he was getting a really great reputation. He had been promoted three times, and was now a shift team leader.

When he went out with his mates, he paid for everything, he just loved to brag about how well we were doing.

We had another row when he discovered the vibrator he brought me was still unopened in the box. "Why haven't you used it? It might take the edge off, you know?"

"I don't need some plastic replacement. If I wanted a cock, I would just get a real one. I get plenty of offers."

"Fuck you, bitch. I brought this fucking thing to help because you said you were horny."

"Yeah, well, my fingers do everything I need. If I get the urge for something inside me, I'll get the real thing."

My determined stare annoyed him. "You ever have sex with somebody else and you'll find out how I feel about that. I'd never put up with a cheating slut."

"Don't worry, Ryan. I'll divorce you first, and I am putting you on a warning. I won't wait forever, I want my husband back. If this shit goes on much longer, we will be separating."

"Typical overreaction. Just use the fucking vibrator, and maybe you'll relax. Then perhaps we could have proper sex when I got home."

*****

That was when my world flipped upside down. I was busily putting the finishing touches to a woman's new hairstyle when I heard the bing-bong of the salon door. I peeked up as Sandra my apprentice said, "Hello, how can we help?"

The customer was elegantly dressed in a very trendy business suit, her gorgeous long legs shimmering. The pin-stripe pencil skirt fitted like a glove, every sensuous curve was on display. Her Louis Vuitton purse dangled carelessly over her shoulder. Her hair looked divine, long lustrous curls framing her very pretty face. "I'm looking for a new style, perhaps a trim and colour, please," she warbled. Her voice was velvety smooth, seductive and smoky.

Sandra opened the book, checking for a vacancy. "I'm sorry, we don't have a space today. Perhaps tomorrow?"

I would normally have ignored the interaction, but something drew me to the woman. I walked casually to the counter. "Excuse me, Sandra, sorry to intrude." I smiled at the woman who now looked annoyed. "Madam, we are fully booked; however, if it's important come back at five tonight and I will look after you personally."

She frowned, checked her watch, then sighed, showing her dissatisfaction. "Very well, if that's the best you can do." She turned on her very sexy Louboutin pumps and walked out, leaving a dark hole.

"Wow, what a bitch!" Sandra grumbled. "I'm sure I know her, though. She looks so familiar."

Her words did ring true, maybe that's why I was drawn in. I did recognise her from somewhere, I just couldn't put a name to her face."

The day passed easily; five PM rolled around quickly. I gave Sandra a hug as she helped me clean up, before she escaped out the door.

I thought the woman must have changed her mind. Five-thirty came and went, and she still hadn't showed up. It didn't help that Ryan chose that particular moment to call, and that degenerated quickly into a screaming fit. By six, I was sick of waiting. I was in the process of turning the lights out when she sauntered in, her hips swaying sexily like a runway model.

"Sorry I'm late," she said ruefully, with a sweep of her luscious locks.

I turned off the lights and stepped out from behind the counter. "Sorry, you're late. I'm closing up now."

Her smile disappeared as she gave me a very sullen scowl. "You asked me to come after you closed up. Well, I'm here."

"I asked you to be here at five, after I closed. It's now five forty-five. If you still want something, come back tomorrow."

Her scowl slowly deepened and she rasped snappily, "Wow, you are a bit of a bitch."

"Sorry, you caught me on a bad day." I muttered, feeling guilty for snapping, adding, "I just had a huge fight with my husband."

She laughed softly, her lips pursed in a thoughtful look. "Sorry to hear that. All right, can I make an appointment for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, no worries." I opened the book, and there was a spot at four. "Would four PM be okay?"

She nodded as we walked out. I locked up and she said softly. "I'm a bit stuck, now. I'm sorry I was late, I had a bad day, as well. Would you like to have an early dinner? It will be my shout."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. My daughter is staying at my Mum's house anyway. Where would we go?"

She shrugged. "There's that little bistro down on the corner, seemed nice enough when I walked past."

We found a small table for two in the corner. "Hi, I'm Channel," she said by way of introduction.

"I'm Louise, although my friends call me Lou."

"Gorgeous name," she replied. "I like Louise, very exotic."

The waiter came for our orders, and Chanel ordered champagne. "You do drink?" she asked.

"After the day I've had, yeah. Oh god yeah, I drink all right."

She laughed along with me, her voice soft, luxurious, sexy. By the second glass, I had told her my whole life story. I'm not a needy sort of person. I'm normally reserved, but somehow, she coerced my story from within.

"I'm sorry it's not working out for you, Louise. Ryan sounds very hard nosed; was he always like that?"

"No, never, he was always so easy going. Working on that damn mine site has changed him, and not for the better."

"Would he be open to some sort of counselling or something?" she suggested.

"I don't know, maybe. I will ask, it does sound like a good idea, because at the moment, we're not talking."

Our food arrived and we slipped into a fairly comfortable silence. "What about you, Chanel?" I giggled, with some embarrassment. "You now know my whole life story. What do you do?"

"I'm the Channel seven weather girl," she offered up, with what sounded like embarrassment.

Her little grin got bigger as my mouth dropped. "Oh my god, of course you are. I can't believe I didn't recognise you."

"No problem, nice to not be recognised, actually. Usually I'm surrounded by sycophantic dipshits. Nice to talk to a real person."

"God, I just blurted out my whole life. You must think I'm an idiot."

"Actually, I think you are very nice, and I was happy to listen to your problems. Sometimes, it's nice to just vent."

"Oh, hell yeah, I'm good with venting," I said between giggles.

Chanel laughed loudly, offering her glass by way of a toast. "Amen to that." She sniggered.

We talked a little about how she became a weather girl. As the drinks flowed, she gave an embarrassed sigh. "I never wanted to be the bloody weather girl. I wanted to be a serious reporter, a proper correspondent. I have a bloody degree in journalism, for god's sake. I just couldn't get in."

With another sip, she added, "This will sound trite. I know everybody has to start at the bottom, but I didn't want to be reporting on weddings and social events. So when the weather girl spot came up, and I was encouraged to apply, I did."

"Yeah, I can see why the weddings and funerals would be boring."

She ordered another round of drinks. "It must be nice being famous, though," I mumbled with a hint of envy.

"No, I mean, yes and no. My hours are short, I can plan my week easily, and the salary is amazing. But I never wanted to be recognised for my looks. I know I'm attractive, I just didn't want to get by riding on that. Believe it or not, I'm a good reporter, they just couldn't see past my looks."

"Oh yeah," I scoffed. "It must be terrible being beautiful, god knows why you came into my little salon. You must have a whole team of makeup artists."

"Yes, it was going to be my little protest. They control everything: what I wear, what I look like. I said I wanted to cut my hair short for the summer, and they had a fit. They told the set stylists not to do it." She leaned closer across the table, adding, "That's when I decided, fuck them. It's my damn hair."

We both broke into little giggles. "Wouldn't that mean you'd get into trouble, though?"

"Well, the good thing is, I'm sort of popular now, and they might like to sack me, but there would be a few angry fans."

"Oh, heck yes. You're definitely popular."

We talked until the waiting staff kicked us out; we were taking up a table. As we walked out into the evening air, she asked. "Would you like to go for a drink somewhere?"

Checking my watch, it was after nine-thirty. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm going to need a taxi anyway."

We walked along Cuba street until we came to Ivy's Bar. She went to lead me in, but I hesitated. "Isn't this a gay bar?"

She gave me a funny glance. Had I insulted her? "It is a nice place for a quiet drink, and you can drink in here without fear of being harassed."

She led me in and I was astounded by how nice it was. I was blown away by how many people knew Chanel. I shouldn't have been; she was a minor celebrity. As we ordered our cocktails, she was swamped by fans. She seemed to know most of them, and it was obvious even to little old me that they were mostly queer, or gay, or whatever the correct terminology was.

Chanel introduced me, and I was soon in deep discussions with a group of guys who wanted to talk hair styles, and trends. They were funny and charming, and without realising it, I had booked in ten people for appointments. I couldn't believe how friendly they were.

It took over an hour before we were seated by ourselves. "Wow, you have a huge fan club in here," I gushed in awe.

"Yes, sorry Lou, they can be a bit much sometimes."

"No, god don't apologise, they obviously all love you."

"Yes, and I love them just as much. In many ways, these people are like family. I come in here and it's always fun, no judgement, no sniping. Just good fun, and they have the coolest bands playing in here sometimes. I love to dance."

"Ah, dancing. It's been ages since I went somewhere with Ryan and we danced. He's gone that long, when he gets home, there's all these jobs stacked up, and then we start fighting."

"Lou, you don't need Ryan to go out. You should come with me. Me and the girls always have a blast, and you'd fit right in."

I giggled, the drinks making me sound silly. "Are they all celebrities? Wouldn't they hate having me come along?"

"There is only one other person you would recognise; the other girls are just my friends. We just go out for dancing. Some have husbands who are terrible dancers. Some are single, and a couple are gay, so we are a mixture."

I gave a big old sigh. "God, that sounds like fun. I could use some fun in my life."

We hugged goodnight as she helped me get a taxi home. As I undressed for bed, I giggled. Damn I felt horny, so very bloody horny... I wasn't intending to masturbate, but this was the happiest I had come to bed in ages. My fingers started walking, and soon they were between my legs, my sex already sticky and juicy. I loved masturbating, it went all the way back to when I first discovered my vagina. Those first times were such a shock.

I will remember forever the first time my finger accidentally slid inside, as I investigated the source of the wonderful tingly sensations, and how those feeling grew as I slid my fingers in and out, curling them around, feeling the gooey sticky walls of my vagina.

I loved starting slow, like I was seducing myself, my fingers just sliding back and forth in the crevice of my labia, caressing the lips, pulling gently on the skin, slipping just inside the folds of flesh, never venturing into my core, just the outer lips, fondling, and playing.

As my arousal grew and I squeezed hard with my thighs, I let a finger dip inside. I know it so well, I found my little pleasure spot easily and let the sensations grow, the blissful rapture take over.

I remembered the first time I found my clitoris; that was something else. The first time I touched it, again by accident, I almost jumped out of bed. I was more circumspect, these days. I waited until I was absorbed in my thoughts, and my fingers taking up Ryan's role, fucking my sloshy little vagina. I let a finger rub slowly over the nub, the fleshy wriggly little nub.

Swollen and engorged with lust, it fought back as I rubbed harder and harder. The explosions were so much more powerful.

That night, though, it wasn't Ryan in my thoughts. Surprisingly, it was Chanel. I say surprisingly, because I had never imagined a woman before. This was a first, and it shocked me, my thighs squeezing so tight it hurt.

Rather than suppress those images, I let them loose. Maybe it was the alcohol, I don't know. All I could think of was her smell, her wonderful scent, the feel of her as she helped me into the taxi, the feel of her lips on mine as she kissed me good night.

Those thoughts swirled crazily in my head as I let the mental imagery fuck me into a blinding orgasm. God, levitation might actually be a thing; the sheets were sticky with my sweat and a big wet spot saturated the sheet beneath my arse.

With my pillow trapped firmly between my legs, I went to sleep sated, although unsettled. Lesbian fantasies, really? I was stunned to find I had enjoyed it so much.

Chanel did come in for her new hair style the next day. I looked after her personally. "Are you sure?" I asked nervously. I was about to chop off the beautiful silken locks off one of the most recognisable women in the country.

"Yes, don't worry, it'll be okay. Well, so long as you do a good job."

As I shampooed her hair, I gazed upon her beauty close up. Her skin was just so smooth and it looked like silk, expensive Chinese porcelain. I had this almost uncontrollable urge to run my fingers down it, to feel it, experience it.

I had to bite my lip and focus. I was sure my hands were shaking as I slid the scissors into her locks.

As I wiped her down and she sat up to gaze into the mirror, a big smile crossed her lips. "Oh my word. That is divine." She ran her hands under the cute little bob, bouncing her tresses, enjoying the volume.

"Sweetie, you are a gem. I love it." She kept turning sideways, checking out her profile from different angles.

As she stood up, she reached over and kissed me on the lips. "Darling, it's perfect. Exactly what I wanted."

As she paid, she leaned over the counter. "Are we still on for drinks on Friday night?"

"Yes, as long as you don't mind me tagging along."

"Tagging along, rubbish. You are going to be one of the gang. You'll love the girls, and I know they are going to love on you, as well."

Friday, I dropped Bronny at my mums and raced home to get ready. I couldn't ever remember being so nervous about what to wear. My wardrobe wasn't exactly overflowing with expensive designer clothes. In the end, I selected an old favourite. It was my LBD, it always made me feel good. It was one of those dresses that just felt nice on, and it gave me confidence.

We met at a little restaurant on Cuba street. Meeting the other girls was fun. Chanel was right: they were a lot of fun. We filled the meal with drinks as we all got to know each other. I hadn't laughed so hard in my life. God, we laughed so much my sides ached painfully.

We finished up, and it was unanimous, we were heading for Ivy's bar. Inside, the music was loud and the dance floor was packed. The girls grabbed my hand and dragged me out onto the floor. With Chanel beside me, we rocked and danced like wild women. The music really amped up, and we all laughed and screamed, as random bodies ground against us. I was shocked. Okay, I wasn't complaining, but a couple of the girls went well past normal dancing. Geena ground her hot body against me ferociously. I could feel her pussy on my leg as she mashed herself against me. It got worse, or better, at that moment, I didn't care.

Her arms circled my neck and she leaned back, her head rolling crazily as she pulverised my thigh.