Hugo and the Girl Next Door

"M. Hugo, thank you very much for everything you have done. Please let me explain," she said as she took the clothes but walked up to the living area. She placed the pile of clothing on to the centre table and softly asked if she could sit down. When he nodded, Anjali sat tentatively on a soft leather arm chair, cushions behind her back.

"My name is Anjali and I work for M. Marcel and Mme. Julie. I saw you at the party in their house last Friday and I have also seen you many times in the colony. Sometimes when I come home after dark, I can even see you from the road when you are working on your computer in the front room." Hugo remained silent as he continued to absorb everything she said; she told him about working as an au pair with his friend, about the weekends she gets to take off, about going out today and getting caught in the rain because she forgot her umbrella in the bus. She talked, uninterrupted for twenty minutes as she narrated the walk home from the bus stop, the electricity going off, the SUV that seemed to be looking for her, and her final desperate rush into his house.

Hugo suddenly realised that she'd stopped talking. He also realised that his eyes were glued to the dark shadow of her cleavage where the lapels of his bathrobe had parted. With no sudden movement, either of his eyes or his body, he leaned back into the sofa that he was sitting on; he hoped the near darkness had prevented her from observing where his visual focus had been.

"Gosh!. That's terrible. I'm so sorry to hear what you've been through. Are you OK now? Feeling better? You can relax here, feel comfortable, no worries," he mumbled, still trying to recover from the shock of recognising her, five feet away in his living room.

"Do you want to call Peter or Julie and tell them you're ok?" Hugo asked.

"Thank you. I'd like to just send them a message. Do you happen to have a mobile phone charger for an iPhone?"

Since he had a preference for all things Apple, he did have a phone charger; more than one, in fact. But since the power outage didn't seem to show any signs of abating, he went to an armoire at one end of his living room and unplugged a power bank that had been charging. He handed over the portable charger to her and asked whether she'd like something to drink, thinking she might do with a hot beverage or something.

Anjali had seen the glass of what looked like whiskey lying on the table so she said "Thank you, M. Hugo, I'll have what your'e having but without the ice. Just neat, please," saying which, she went to extract her cellphone from the sodden handbag she'd left on the floor by the entrance with her shoes.

Hugo went to his bar, extracted a fresh old fashioned crystal tumbler and poured out a shot of the scotch he was having. He took it back to the sitting area and saw the beautiful lady, phone plugged in to the charger, typing out what he assumed to be a message to her employers. He wondered how he had missed seeing her at Julie's party the previous evening, but his mind kept going back to the deep crevice between her gorgeously large swollen breasts. He had to stop, he told himself, trying to distract himself with other thoughts, but was failing miserably.

He placed the glass on a small peg table beside her, the same one he had bumped his knee against, and went across to sit opposite her on the three-seater sofa piece. She finished sending her message, put the phone on the table in front, and reached for the glass beside her. Raising it in a toast, she thanked him again and took a delicate sip of the whiskey. "Ahh! Wonderful!" She leaned back into the armchair, crossed her legs, folded the bathrobe over her thighs and smiled at him.

Hugo realised that she hadn't changed into the set of clothes he had given her, but decided not to mention anything about that. "So! Tell me more about yourself. I didn't see you at the party last night and I cant believe I wouldn't have noticed if you were there."

She smiled at the subtle compliment. "No," Anjali said, "I didn't actually attend the party because I was busy with their two girls, helping them out with their school work. But I saw you when I came into the drawing room briefly to give Mme. Julie a message."

Hugo decided to level with Anjali; at least to come extent. "Honestly, Anjali, I have seen you many times. In fact I find you so beautiful that I wait to see you everyday. From my window. I know you go past around 8:00 every morning so I keep looking out in the hope that you have not already walked past. I just didn't know who you were, and I hadn't yet gathered the courage to ask you even though we crossed paths a few times near the community centre."

She listened to him, knowing he had seen her, maybe even ogled at her, a couple of times. She was happy that he was telling her; she already felt she could trust M. Hugo and felt comfortable and safe in his house. A small shiver ran down her spine as she briefly relapsed into the memory of earlier in the evening. She took another sip of the scotch, tasting the peaty palate and the delicate aftertaste as the amber liquid warmed her insides. She also noticed that she had just sipped the last dregs from the tumbler, as she continued to listen attentively to the gentleman sitting in front of her.

"And that's how I met Peter the first time, on the beach in Okinawa," he said in conclusion of his long monologue, "and now, after eight years, I find him here." Anjali smiled at him, suddenly feeling a strange sense of affection towards M. Hugo and fascinated by his stories.

"I'm going to pour myself another drink if I may, please," she said as she stood.

"Of course! Here, let me get it for you."

"No problem," she said, walking to his bar counter.

"OK, then I'll help you, and get myself another one too," Hugo said, following her. He knew he had been talking too much, but he was so enjoying her company, her presence, that he couldn't help himself. And the fact that he had already had two drinks put his mind in a very happy place.

They were standing next to each other by the bar counter, the open kitchen beyond, as he unstoppered the bottle. Their eyes had long adjusted to the tepid light from the various flickering flames and had no difficulty in pouring their drinks. She was a head shorter than him and they both surreptitiously enjoyed the small touches of their upper arms and hands while she poured the whisky and he dropped ice cubes into his glass. Standing next to one another, his bare biceps grazed the side of her breasts through the cotton robe and Anjali felt a buzz run through her torso. For a moment Hugo thought of trying to kiss her in the soft light of the candles but decided not to display his carnal desire so obviously. Instead, he picked up both the crystal glasses and walked to the centre space, placing one on the side table next to where she had been sitting.

Anjali removed the towel wrapped around her head and shook her hair out, letting the damp wavy cascades flow down to her hips as she went towards the bathroom and hung the towel on the doorknob. He watched her walk back, thinking of how stately and graceful her gait was; back upright, chest out, head held high, hips swaying very gently without being too provocative. She picked up her glass from where Hugo had placed it, then side-stepped around the glass topped wooden centre table and came and sat beside him. Neither of them said a word; they took sips of their whiskey and placed the crystalware on their respective side tables.

For a minute they sat still, both looking ahead as though there was a television in front with a very absorbing programme on it. She knew she had been very bold in coming and sitting next to him, but now she was nervous, not sure she had done the right thing. What if he didn't approve and thought she was being unnecessarily forward? What if he was uncomfortable with her behaviour?

In the silence and near darkness, she chastised herself and wondered how she could rectify the situation. Perhaps get up again and go to the washroom. But she was unable to do so. She didn't want to go away; she wanted to sit next to him, smell the faint after shave lotion that his skin still exuded, feel the warmth of his presence, feel the unintended press of his arm against hers, the gentle graze of his thigh against her own. She felt like she had known him for a long time, not just the last hour or so, not even just the one month that he had been living here. Something more, something almost spiritual.

"Monsieur Hugo..."

"Just Hugo is fine," he interrupted, "unless you want me to call you Mademoiselle Anjali."

She loved to hear him say her name; the sensual baritone sending tingles through her body, his voice was like those of radio newscasters. "No, Anjali, just Anjali sounds great, especially when you say it." Damn! Was she flirting with him, she wondered. Again, she felt a sort of helplessness, and didn't want to stop the feeling. She'd forgotten what she was about to say. There was something so raw and earthy about his physical presence as well, and yet she continued to sink deeper into the warmth and coziness of his aura.

To her, it seemed the most natural thing when Hugo stretched out his left arm over the backrest of the sofa they were sitting on and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you feeling better now?" he enquired, "Comfortable? Do you want anything? Something to eat perhaps?"

"Thank you, but no," she responded. "I had a very late lunch with my friends this afternoon and I don't feel hungry now." She suddenly felt very selfish at not having asked about his own meal; she had, after all, barged in to his house at dinner time. She asked him but he said he was ok, not hungry either.

He kept his hand on her shoulder as he took another sip of his whiskey. Then his fingers moved slowly above the robe, small circles over the round of her shoulder and her clavicle. The loose terry cloth robe raked her nipple and she felt a stirring deep inside her being, knowing that her nipples were hardening as a moistness infused her genitals. Her legs parted slightly and she felt the relatively cool air against her warm wetness as a carnal craving began to rise through her aroused body. She sidled a little to her right and tilted her head so it rested on his left shoulder, took another large gulp of her whiskey and almost gagged as the spirit glided down her throat.

She could feel the bare skin of his biceps against the back of her neck as her cheek touched the soft cotton of his sleeveless muscle shirt. She knew that the alcohol was having a direct impact on her libido, and her state of arousal was definitely rising. But she had not been with a man for over three years, having kept a strict distance between herself and others ever since she got serious about her studies and later, when she started working. Even before that, Anjali had just one relationship with a senior in college and that hadn't lasted too long after she lost her virginity to him.

Hugo was struggling with his conscience; he so much wanted to take the woman of his fantasies into his arms and kiss her but he felt he may be taking advantage of her situation. As his fingers stroked over the robe, they gradually moved towards the bare skin of her neck despite his misgivings; he seemed unable to hold himself back. The darkness emboldened him and he began to caress the nape of her neck and ran his fingers behind her ear and around her ear-lobe. Her hair was still a little damp but there was a delicate floral fragrance that seemed to enshroud her. And through the subtle bouquet, he was beginning to discern a stronger overtone; the musky scent of her sex.

When she leaned into him initially, he had thought perhaps she was tired and the trauma of the evening's experience was getting to her. But with his hand around her shoulders now, she snuggled closer into his body and any remaining elements of conscience or morality dissipated into nothingness as he turned his head and sought her lips with his mouth.

The moment their lips met, Anjali knew she wanted to give herself completely to this man; she felt a certain heaviness of anticipation in her heart and in her mind, a feeling of complete surrender born out of trust. She felt his lips, soft and gentle as they moved over hers, giving her the freedom to move her mouth around his. She slowly drew his lower lip between hers and noticed how her breathing was getting harder. Hugo's hand was now on her cheek and along her jawline as he pulled her face a little closer to his, managing to get her lower lip between his as he sucked it in delicately.

Anjali turned her body so that she could face Hugo and brought an arm around his neck, pressing her mouth a little harder against his. He was allowing her to set the pace but she was very aroused and wanted to explore her man in a hurry. After three years, this sensual longing was like a drug to her, pushing her to heights she couldn't remember experiencing before. She tried to absorb every physical sensation, wanting to be conscious of his touch, his smell, his taste. As the passion intensified, she slid her hand around his neck, her fingers ploughing through the long curly hair at the back of his head. She felt him increase the pressure on her mouth just before the tip of his tongue probed deeper past her lips. Anjali dug her fingers into the thick waves of his hair and drew him closer, sucking on his tongue as it danced inside her mouth.

The lapel and collar of her robe slipped off one shoulder and she felt Hugo's warm touch against her skin, holding her upper arm, caressing it as he sucked on her lips, feeling an electric tingle buzz through her entire body. His forearm felt heavy and masculine as it pressed against her breast; nobody other than herself had touched her erogenous zones for so long, touched any part of her body for that matter. She felt his palm mover from her arms back to her shoulder and her neck as he pulled her towards him.

Anjali twisted her body to her right so that she could face Hugo more squarely and in the process raised her left leg and draped it loosely over his denim covered thigh. As she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, she felt his hand glide down over her chest and take one of her breasts in his palm. The calloused tips of his fingers chafed over her large protruding nipple as he took it between thumb and fingertip, rubbing gently along the hardened nub. She felt her breath escape in a deep long languorous exhalation as she pressed into him, losing herself in the libidinous sensations of his magical touch.

Hugo ran his fingers along the circumference of her areola, feeling the small goose-pimple like bumps that had erupted across the surface. Her nipple was hard and large between his fingers, her breast heavy and pendulous in his palm. Her skin was smooth as silk, taut and young. Her lips were soft and felt wonderfully submissive even as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He felt the pressure of her leg as her thigh moved up and down along his jeans, involuntary movements that brought her knee against the burgeoning erection in his denims.

They kissed passionately for a long while, probing each other's mouths with their tongues, sucking in one another's lips, osculating in a feverish frenzy. He felt her hand snake under his vest, fingers trailing along his upper abdominal muscles till they were in the centre of his chest, playing momentarily with his pectoral hair. His hand was still over her wholesome breast but as she pressed harder against him, he found it uncomfortable and constricted so he moved his palm over to her back. The bathrobe had parted completely, although the cord was still knotted around her waist.

He shoved the fluffy cotton material off her shoulder and she straightened her arm briefly so he could push the sleeve off. He then pulled one loose end of the belt and unknotted it. With his hand once again over her back, and hers under his muscle shirt, they continued their impassioned kisses. She was now almost over him, straddling one of his thighs, her bosom pressed against his chest as their feverish movements intensified. Her fingers found his nipples and he felt her rake them with her fingernails as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Her hips moved almost imperceptibly, a small back and forth motion as she pressed her vulva against the rough denim of his jeans.

As she continued to rub her cunt over his trousered leg, she was getting increasingly aroused, the fire in her centre now spreading out in radial waves across her body. She lifted her right knee and placed it next to his left thigh, then raised the other one on his right. Straddling his lap, her own legs wide apart, she slipped both hands under the bottom of his vest and pushed it upwards past his chest and over his head. Her breasts hung heavily in front of his face as he raised his arms so she could get the garment off, leaving his torso naked and bare.

Hugo's arms were once again on Anjali's back, cradling her as his palms slipped down along her waist and hips till they rested on her buttocks. She took one of her boobs into her hand and pinched the nipple with her thumb and forefinger, twisting it, teasing it, before she leaned forward a little and pushed it against his lips. Hugo hungrily opened his mouth and drew that taut nub into his mouth, sucking the stiffness and lashing it with his tongue. His hands gripped her rear and began to knead the buttocks with his strong fingers and palms.

Anjali let out a loud groan as she pushed her large tits against his face. "Ohhhh! Hugo," she whispered, "my Hugo." She breathed the words rather than spoke them, and Hugo felt the warm breath against his face. He felt a fine perspiration break out on his forehead and chest as well as on the small indent at the base of Anjali's spine. Removing his hands from her arse, she slipped the remainder of the bathrobe completely off her body and let it drop to the floor. She was naked from head to toe, just the thought of which inflamed Hugo's passion into a libidinous state he had not felt in a long time.

He brought his hands below her stomach and reached for the stud on the waistband of his Levi's, undoing it before pushing the zipper down. Anjali got off the settee and kneeled on the rug at his feet, pulling his denims off his thighs and legs, and then pushing them aside on the floor. She placed her hands on the massive bulge in his Garcon Francais boxers, feeling the hardness and the thickness of its girth. Her fingers moved along the length, nails tracing the swollen dorsal vein that ran from the base of his penis to the top. She pushed her face against his groin and breathed in the intoxicating smell of his manhood, still caressing his phallus with one hand.

Although the candle that had been stuck into the neck of a rum bottle had burnt down completely, the flickering flames of the other two still suffused the room in their golden glow. Both the lovers' eyes had long adjusted to the semi-darkness and they were equally enthralled with the vision of each other's bodies. Hugo had his palms on Anjali's shoulders and upper back as she began to pull his boxers off. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband and drew them down along his thighs as he raised his buttocks off the sofa momentarily. His penis, freed of its confines, stood large and erect, rising from the thick mass of his pubic hair along the flatboard abdomen.

She pulled the undergarment off both his feet and pushed it into the pile of other clothes on the floor before taking his huge erection in her hands. For the next few minutes, she absorbed the enormity not just of his organ, but also the sensations that were triggered by the momentousness of this situation. While lust and a wanton lasciviousness coursed through her nervous system, there was also a deep spiritual oneness that she felt with this man. She was too salacious at the moment to give it any considered thought, but she let the feeling soak into her and diffuse itself all though her body, mind and soul.