Hot Tramp I Love You So!

We're spinning each other round and round, laughing like hyenas, but still trying to sing it.

'Hot tramp, I love you so!'

And we have to stop. I've a stitch, and by the looks of Ray, so's he. I'm bent over, still laughing and out of breath, when I feel a grip on my wrist that's getting to be familiar. Conor. Standing in front of me, with an amused look on his face.

'You alright?' he's asking, and I try to straighten up, but it's still sore.

'Fine. Out of breath, that's all.'

He's not letting go, waiting for me to collect myself.

'Ah, fuck. Ok, that's getting better.' I straighten myself up. Look into his eyes, and see he's still amused.

'Ready?' he asks, and I nod. I turn and wave at Ray, who's still out there dancing out of his skin, and he waves back. Conor loosens his grip on my wrist. I slip my hand into his, and we lock fingers.

'I need a drink and a pee,' I say, as we fight our way through the people, back towards the bar.

'Well I can get you one of those,' he's laughing at me, 'but not the other.'

'Just tap water. Big glass.' He lets go of me, and I walk over to the loos, picking my way through the build-up of fag ends and discarded plastic pint and shot glasses littering the floor now.

In the mirror, I look sweaty and alive. Very much alive. More of my hair has escaped. I wash my hands, and walk back out. He's standing there, right by the door, with a pint of water in a plastic beaker in his hand.

'Didn't want to lose you again,' as he gives it to me.

'Yeah. Sorry about that.' I drink, thirstily, some of it trickles down my chin. He puts a finger on it, smudges the water off my skin and, when I lower the glass, moves his finger along my lips. I lick them, the tip of my tongue briefly catching his finger as it passes by. That intense look of concentration settles on his face. I can't see his eyes in this dark corner, but it feels like his body temperature has just soared.

'Need any more of that?' he asks, and I shake my head. He takes the water, drinks it down in one, giving me another chance to admire his neck where his Adam's apple moves as he swallows, then flings the glass on the floor with all the others.

'Come on.' He grabs my hand, locks his fingers into mine again, and I follow him across the floor, running slightly to keep up with his long stride. We bang out through a swing door and into a bare, painted, corridor, where he slows his pace.

'Seems like you needed that dance,' he says, still walking.

'Hm.'

'Simple Minds. That was your song, wasn't it?'

'Y-eah. Yes.' I halt.

'He played it all the fucking time, you know?' He's turned to look back at me. 'Drove us all completely fucking mad with it, he did.'

I close my eyes. Nod. 'He used to say I was his glittering prize.'

'He was a good wee lad, Jess.'

All I can do is nod again.

'But he's gone now.'

'I know. I know he's gone.'

The swing door bangs loudly, making both of us start.

'I know he's gone, Conor,' I repeat. 'It's ok. It's just hearing some songs -- that song -- well, I can't but help remember him. And it's not like I play it myself anymore, so when it came on like that .... It's a reflex.'

'Ray's good to you. I saw him taking care of you out there.'

'Watching me?' I smile a little.

'Course I was.' And he's bent down, and kissing me square on the lips, pushing his tongue past my teeth and deep into my mouth, insistent, hungry. I tip my head back to meet him. Kiss him back, just as hard. He finds my other hand and locks his fingers into mine, so we stand like this, holding onto each other's hands, me rising on tiptoe to try to compensate for my height. He tastes of beer. And I can really smell his sweat now, want to lick it from his skin, savour the saltiness of it, push my fingers through his hair and down his neck. I listen to the sounds of him breathing, and then he's pressing both my hands behind me, into the small of my back, so I'm open and trapped up against his body. The leather of his jacket feels cool and heavy against my skin, and I can feel one of the wide zips pressing up against my left breast, rubbing my nipple. It grows hard straightaway, and I jiggle to rub it up and down the zip. He pulls away.

'Sure you're the sexiest girl here, but you're too short to stand like this, it's killing my neck.' He drops one of my hands. 'Come on,' and still holding the other, he strides off further down the corridor, until he reaches a door that leads into a tiny box room that's obviously been used as a dressing room tonight. I took another look at his legs, bare between the hem of the dress and the tops of his boots, as he'd been walking, and was still thinking about what it would be like to push my hands up there, underneath the hem when he shuts the door behind us. The music is louder here than it was out in the corridor, thudding into the floor and walls around us. He's still clasping my hand, but with the other, is sweeping a bag, a coat, and a Tupperware box off the table and onto one of the chairs. When he turns back, I'm still standing by the door, and I look at him levelly.

'Jesus,' he says, and he's picking me up, holding my arse as I wrap my legs around his waist and he presses my back up against the door. He grunts as we find our place with each other, pushes his tongue into my mouth with the same energy as before, so bold, so confident. We explore each other like this, listening to each other's breathing, eyes open, his hands pressing me underneath my arse, pushing me into the door, pushing himself into me. I gasp, the air being pushed out of me, heat rushing to my tits, down to my pussy, into my feet, clenching my toes. I fight to push my hands underneath his jacket so I can hold onto him through the thinner fabric of the dress, and that helps to steady me, gives me better grip to meet his strength. We kiss again, and begin to find a rhythm with each other, him pushing up against me, his cock hard up against my arse, my pussy against his belly, both of us getting pretty hot and sticky. Someone cranks up the volume in the club, and the walls and door start to vibrate with the bass, and that makes us both pause, and smile. We stay still, until I have to start rocking my hips with frustration.

'I want to feel you more,' I murmur, kissing his neck.

We make more adjustments, him releasing one hand from my arse, pulling back a little on one side, twisting at the waist, and I too use one hand to help him pull the dress up above his crotch, freeing his cock more, pressing my back against the door, gripping him with my thighs. We both reach down to position it between us, but his hand gets there first. I smile.

'No underwear? That's daring.'

'Took them off once I got offstage.'

'Ah.' I touch the head, and he twitches. He gives me a bit more room to play with by moving his hand down, and I'm able to run my fingers down about halfway before I meet his hand. I press it, and we're both holding his cock. We are still smiling, watching each other's faces. I take my hand out of the way, and he moves back against me, this time with his cock pushed up against my pussy. I exhale. Much as I like girls sometimes, there's nothing like the feel of a really stiff cock, the promise and the anticipation of it. Again, we are quite still, both of us paying attention to the blood and adrenalin flowing through us, beating and pulsing together. We start rocking and grinding, working up a friction that has both of us panting. I push my mouth onto the front of his neck, lick at the sweat and the stubble, push the jacket back a little so I can lick and bite along some of his collarbone. He jerks as if surprised at the biting, then grunts, low. My thighs are trembling. I want to kiss him all over.

'You can take this down, can't you?' I don't know what he means until he adds, 'It just ties at the back?'

'My dress?' I bring my head up, and one hand from his back. 'You'll have to help me.' We both use a hand each to pull at the ties, and release them. He pushes the straps down, then uses both hands under my arse to push me higher up his body, as the dress drops away from my tits, bends his neck and fastens his mouth onto one of my nipples. Pulls and sucks at it, clamps his teeth around it, making me cry out. He moves to the other one, and I am quivering with the anticipation this time. Even more sensitive. Even more pleasure. I moan, and he raises his head, and grins at me.

'That's what I wanted to hear.' Swings us both round and bumps me onto the edge of the table, sets me down, with his hands still holding my arse, squeezing me really hard, but before he can do anything more, I push his dress up higher to see his cock. Because of his height, it's not going to be much for me to be able to take him in my mouth, sitting like this on the table, so I use one hand and push his chest back a little, to give me room to lean forward. And when I run my tongue around the top of his head, he clenches my arse really hard with both his hands, making both of us grunt a little. His cock is twitching like crazy, so I dispense with some of the preliminaries and take him into my mouth as much as I can, close my other hand around his base and squeeze him. He rewards me with some more squeezing and gripping of my arse, and I try to remain patient. But I'm not the only impatient one, because he's starting to push himself in and out of my mouth. I'm still holding him back with my hand flat up against his chest, so he isn't able to pull me closer, go deeper, and I smile then giggle at his mounting frustration. I guess this causes some vibrations around him in my mouth, because he grunts again, this time more loudly. I pull away so I can look at him, look at how wet and shiny he is from being in my mouth.

'You're fucking killing me,' he groans.

Waves of heat roll over me as I realise I have him. He's mine. His eyes are open, and dark. He's lost his free will and he's all mine now. I lean down again, take him back into my mouth, and he's twitching and jerking so much that I slow it down, lengthening my strokes, taking my time. One of his hands pulls away from my arse and then he shoves it into my hair. I give him a warning, letting him feel just enough of my teeth to let him know I don't want him to push me, but this just makes him gasp, and hold onto my hair. I move back up to just the top of his cock, kiss the head, tap my tongue there. He's close now. I can feel his body tensing, heating up.

'Ah, fuck.'

Now. I pull him all the way into my mouth, as far as I can. He's too big for me to take all of him, at least in this position, but I do my best. I don't usually swallow, but he tastes so good, and when I feel it, I don't release him, but drink from him as he calls out, shudders, comes. I feel him holding back, so he's not pushing into me too hard. I drop my arm away from his chest, raise my head, letting him go, trying to catch my breath, feeling him do the same. His hand is still in my hair, his fingers pressed into my scalp.

'Take this down.'

I reach up with both arms to untie my hair, shaking it out. It's long. I haven't had the money or inclination to go to the hairdressers for a while. He pulls his hand down through it, and then grabs me with both hands under my armpits. My arms are still raised, and he holds me like that, exposed, his wrists grazing the sides of my tits.

'Better.' He's still panting a little. 'You used to have it short?'

I nod, watching his face.

'I like it like this.'

He dips his head, then, and starts kissing along my collarbone and down into my armpit, moving his hand and pushing his tongue along my skin, licking me. I yelp, out of surprise, and I can feel him smile, a little release of air from his nose as he carries on licking me there.

'I like a girl who can get good and sweaty,' he's murmuring, and I start to shiver down my back and across my shoulders, drop my head back, look up at the ceiling, at the way the paint is marked and cracked, at the single fluorescent light. I close my eyes, giving myself up to the feel of his tongue, his firm grip. Sigh. He shifts his weight, and I feel his face close to mine, open my eyes. His lips touch mine, graze them, and then he's pushing his tongue past them, into my mouth, pulls back.

'You taste good,' and we both laugh at that, because we know it's not me he's tasting. We kiss again, for a long time, eyes open.

I feel his thigh pressing up against me, between my legs, realise what he's doing and shimmy further up the table, giving him room, and he crawls onto it, over me, on all fours, his jacket hanging open, heavy. The zip grazes over my nipple and I grab for it, pulling it over again, scratching my sore skin, jumping and shaking. He stops kissing me to look down, sees what I'm doing, and grins, pushes my hand away, pushes the zip hard against me, pulls and grinds my nipple against the metal. I raise my hips toward him, but he ignores me, lifts my breast to his mouth, runs his tongue around my nipple, takes it into his mouth and sucks hard. I'm bumping my hips in frustration. He lets go, and my nipple is burning. Moves his hand down and plants it on my knickers, grips and pushes me with his fingers, using the heel of his hand to rub me, finding my clit, rubbing. I grab his hair, panting, writhing against his hand, which I think surprises him, making him jerk his head up to look at my face. Now I'm the one who's lost. I don't think I've come like this, still in my knickers, since I was at school. I gasp, feel his dark eyes on me, and then feel nothing except the heat of it, tensing up, shuddering. I think I call out. He won't stop working at me with his hand.

'Stop,' I manage to say. 'Stop.'

He slows his hand.

'You look fucking gorgeous when you come,' he says, and even now, I feel myself blushing. 'Get these off,' he pulls at my knickers, and then he's climbing off the table, the dress falling back down to cover his arse as he pulls a chair over.

I push my knickers down over my hips, take them off, still lying on the table, waiting for my heart to stop hammering, and he's taking them out of my hand, bends down between my thighs and licks me, once, firmly, and my hips kick up into his face. He laughs. Pulls me off the table onto him, sits in the chair with me on his lap, my legs either side of him. We have to adjust both our dresses, pulling the hems higher, so we are touching each other. His cock is hard and when I touch him there, he breathes into my neck. I circle the head with my finger, press a little bit, run my hand down his whole length and start to shiver at the thought of him being inside me. I concentrate on stroking him with both my hands, my thighs still shaking. Feel his hand slide down my arse and pushing in-between my legs, but I don't know if I can stand it, and try to wriggle away which just pushes me into his cock, and makes us both grunt. He's not letting me go, and I feel his fingers pushing into me, two of them, as insistent and bold as he's been with his tongue, his kisses. He burrows them deep, getting to know me, and I'm moving with them, my belly cramping with desire. He's going through the pockets of his jacket with his other hand and, not finding what he's after, reaches out to the other chair, tipping us both sideways, and we laugh as we slip around until he's found the coat and is trying to go through the pockets of that too.

'Here,' I say, reaching out and helping, shoving my hands into any pockets I can find until I emerge, holding the little packet in my hand. 'This?' I ask, and he nods. We both straighten up on the chair. I lean in, kiss him hard, feel him quivering. We pull away, and I go to rip the packet when he takes it out of my hands.

'No. If I let you put this on, I'm gone.'

And he rolls the condom on himself, roughly. Pushes me upwards with his hands and moves me over him. I linger there, my feet planted on the floor, rubbing myself over his head, getting him wet, but he's pulling at my hips, pulling me down, and I can't stay patient either. Feeling that delicious moment of invasion, the pressure, the pushing, the stretching. I moan.

'Wait,' I say, moving my hips, and he realises I need more time, slips his finger around my clit and then around us both, brings his finger up to my mouth, pushes it inside where I suck him, pulls it out and slips it back around us where we are joined together. Does this again, and again, until I'm pushing down, and in a rush, we're there. My arms are around his neck as I grind my hips into him, and feel him jacking up into me.

'We're breaking this fucking chair,' he's muttering, lifting me up and planting me back down on the table. 'This was lucky for us before,' patting the table with a hand, and he's standing over me, looking at me, my dress bunched up around my waist, his cock still inside. Pulls me tight up against him, which makes me exhale, as it pushes him deeper, and I can feel I'm beginning to contract inside. He feels it too, moves his arms underneath me, gripping my shoulders in his hands, bringing his face down to mine. Another hard kiss, and he's thrusting into me. I push back, scrabbling at his dress, pulling it up over his arse to get a grip on his bare skin, pulling him deeper into me. He grunts, moves faster, urgently, until we are banging the table against the wall, fucking. I arch up, panting, but he tenses up first. Rigid. Hard. Groaning with every last thrust, deep, throaty, raw, he let's go. His weight on me feels good, and I can't stop pushing my hips against him. I feel him come to, his head tilting up to look at me and, thank Christ, he starts pushing again, still stiff, but moving against me more slowly now, watching me. He adjusts his position, raises his chest off me, and his cock is pushing up against me now, a different angle. My breath escapes me, I pull my arms away from him, and up over my head, hooking my legs around his waist.

'Don't stop,' I pant.

'Not a chance,' I hear him say, but I'm twisting and bucking against him; I shout out, clench my fingers and toes, and ride it out, stretching and shuddering, until I'm spent. When I open my eyes, he's leaning over me, hands planted on the table either side of my head, studying me with that intense concentration.

'What are your plans for the rest of the summer?' he's asking me.

I still can't speak, so I shrug, which, after all, adequately sums up my so-called 'plans' for the summer.

'I'm off tomorrow, over to a place I rented out Connemara way, to do some writing, get some peace for a few weeks.'

I'm listening, looking at him as his eyes are beginning to settle, his pupils contracting to normal size, his stubble a few hours darker than when I'd first set eyes on him, standing at the bar, drinking from the bottle, about to get onstage but looking all the world like he was just one of the punters, relaxed, hip leaning up against the bar, eyes roving over the gathering crowd. And I'd thought I was the one who'd caught him by surprise, getting so close to him before he even recognised me. Now, I'm not so sure.

'Come with me,' he says in that way where I don't know if he's asking, or issuing a command. He takes both my hands in his, threads his fingers through mine. 'Come with me, Jess.'

I pull myself up to him, and hold him tightly. 'Yes,' I whisper into his ear. 'Yes.'