Late Valentine


'Chinese,' I say, and am rewarded with a squeeze of his hand around my arm.

As we walk through Soho, I remind myself of the things I promised I was going to ask him tonight, questions that will make him less of a complete stranger. I almost giggle at the thought I should have made a list of them on my phone.

'What?' he squeezes me again, evidently aware of the electrical currents running through my body.

'Oh, nothing. Not really. I guess I'm just a little -- ah -- what to say? Overcome? Excited? I don't do this often either, Rob -- meet up with strange men I don't know for dinner.'

'I'm not that strange,' he says drily, and stops in front of a tiny restaurant, the kind with whole Peking ducks hanging in the window.

There's a small line out the door and onto the street. We join the end of it. He fiddles with his phone, cancelling the reservation for the other restaurant, I guess. It's mild despite being February, and I look around me, enjoying the throngs of people milling around, thinking about what it'd be like to live here in this big city full of the contradictions between old and new. He takes a hold of my hand and I'm overtaken by a rush of elation at the idea of it -- of letting him undress me later, of leaving the States behind me for a while, of going in to work on the tube every morning.

'What are you thinking?'

He's looking down at me. I open my mouth to try to explain, but before I manage a word, Rob's being clapped on the arm by a smartly dressed Chinese man.

'Mr Montague, very good to see you. Why you waiting out here? Come, we have the best table for you inside.'

Well, that's one question I won't have to ask him, I think, as we get pulled past the line of people and inside the restaurant.

'Why you not here yesterday with this beautiful lady, Mr Montague?' the man teases him as he shows us to the table, pulling out a chair for me.

'We had very good Valentine's Day special.'

Rob holds up his palms in surrender.

'Terrible planning on my part, Bao. But what dishes can you tempt us with this evening?'

'I have just the thing to do Cupid's work for you,' he's grinning, flicking the napkins out for us and generally fussing to perfect the look of the table before leaving us.

'I gather you come here a lot?' I ask Rob, peering out of the window overlooking the street below.

'Yes, it's me and my sister's favourite place.'

'What's she called?'

'You'll laugh, but she's called Elizabeth. Goes by Lizzie though.'

'Is she married, or otherwise providing any heirs for your poor mother?'

He shakes his head.

'Nope. We're both walking disasters as far as that's concerned.'

'Shame on you both. What's her excuse?'

'She prefers girls.'

I cover my mouth, but his eyes are smiling, relaxed, so I let it go, me and my big wiseass mouth.

Except -- 'So, now, about this unrequited love of yours. What made her so dumb she didn't want you?'

He looks a little shocked I've brought it up again, but I reach for his hand over the table to soften the blow. And because I want to touch him. As I think I've already admitted, I'm not completely selfless.

'Ah -- well, she wasn't dumb so much as in love and married. And to one of my oldest friends from school.'

'That would explain it, I guess. Are you still in her thrall?'

He looks away, then back, then away again.

'No. She died five years ago.'

'Shit. Sorry -- I really shouldn't --,'

'It's fine, Elizabeth.'

'But --,'

Bowls of food arrive at our table, so we both sit back a little until the waiter has moved away.

'Look, she -- Ginny -- was deliriously happily married to John and, not that I'm slow to accept reality, but it only took me another three years to come to terms with it after their wedding. They got married on Valentine's Day, actually. Maybe that's why I usually manage to ignore it.' He glances up at me. 'Anyway, she was always most understanding about it.'

'She knew?'

'Oh yes. She knew alright.'

I watch him as he goes to another place and for some reason, images of their breath blowing steam together in the freezing winter air, her soft thigh pressing up against his cock, his tongue tipping her nipple fill my mind. I breathe in, surprised at how clear it seems. Not totally unrequited love, maybe.

'But in the end, it was John she wanted.'

'What happened?'

'They had two beautiful children -- I'm godfather to the eldest -- and then she found a lump on her breast.'

'Oh. So cruel.'


He returns to the present. Helps himself to some more rice.

We take a circuitous route back to my hotel. He'd offered to take me to his house, and although I'm curious to see it, I decided that my room was probably closer. Gave us both less time to back out? I'd seen something flick through his eyes, but didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved I'd chosen the hotel. And now that we're lazily weaving our way south, back through the streets of Soho I'm wondering if he's having second thoughts, or is just nervous. We both know what we want to do, or at least I think we do, but even now, liberated modern woman of the twenty-first century I like to think I am, I'm still hesitating over making the first real move. Perhaps I'm the most nervous of the two of us. I feel the pressure of his hand over mine change. When I look up, I see we're turning into the street where my hotel is.

'Elizabeth, I want you to know I'm not taking anything for granted.'

'That's ok, I --,'

'It's not that I'm not bursting with ideas about what I'd like to get up to with you tonight, but I want you to be in control of what happens -- nothing that you don't want.'

And with that, he picks me up off my feet and holds me to his chest, my feet dangling. Kisses me full on the mouth for long enough for me to feel like I've been set on fire, and then sets me back down on the sidewalk. I stare at the side of his face until he glances at me out the corner of his eye and grins, urging me to walk with him the final steps to my hotel.

I fumble with the key card, inserting it the wrong way at the first attempt, succeeding on the second, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. I cast a look at the armchair, recalling how good he'd looked yesterday in a similar chair in the fitting rooms, feet apart, leaning back to look at me. It seems he has other ideas, drawing me with him to the bed, and I'm beginning to wonder if he meant what he said about me being in control, until he turns to sit down on the mattress, pulling me close to him, but then sitting there quietly, waiting for me.

Standing like this in front of him, I can just about rest my chin on the top of his head. But, of course, I have high heels on, so it's an illusory height. I draw a deep breath to take in his smell and pull my fingers across the short hair at the nape of his neck. It's satisfyingly textured, like the moquette used for hard-wearing seat covers. His breathing is warm against my blouse. I peel off my coat, and lie it on the bed next to him, moving closer to him as he threads his arms around my waist. We stay like this for a few minutes, getting used to the proximity, his head resting on my breasts, his hands moving around my back and down my ass.

'Did I say how much I like this skirt?' he's murmuring.

I smile. Of course I'd worn it today.

'I think so.'

I ease him away, slip my hands underneath his jacket and begin to slide it from his shoulders. He releases my ass long enough to help me slide it all the way off, and I drape it on the bed beside him, me tapping the label sewn into it.

'This is a very nice suit you're wearing, Mr Montague,' I say, tracing his name where it's written on the square of fabric.

'I like beauty,' he murmurs, his eyes suddenly appearing far darker than before.

I move my attention to his tie. It's a beauty, for sure. Dark ruby red, a heavy woven silk with fine gold threads. I tug the knot loose, pausing when he runs a finger over my hands; leaning over to kiss it lightly, taking it into my mouth, rewarded by his sharp intake of breath. He pushes another finger between my lips as I pluck the knot open and snake the tie around and out from under his shirt collar, rolling my tongue over his fingernails, his knuckles, letting the rest of his hand cup the side of my face. It's as though I can feel the tension draining from his body as he sits there, letting me pull on his fingers with my mouth, and undo the buttons at his throat and down his chest. Still nibbling at his fingertips, I push his shirt open, rolling the soft cotton in my hands, and I think I'm humming aloud with the anticipation of it.

Of all of it.

It's incredibly sexy the way he's sitting there letting me take my time, waiting for me, but feeling it with me.

I dare to look again into those naked eyes. They're almost all pupil now. I release his fingers in favour of his lips, darting my tongue into him, retreating and advancing, retreating and advancing, until his hands surge into my hair and hold my head more firmly as he fills my mouth with his tongue. I pull away, gasping, to catch my breath, but bend over his mouth for more, hoping that's what my eyes are saying to him. He kisses me again with the same energy and lust.

It's sure in his eyes, clear as day. Have I ever felt this wanted? I'm almost laughing with it, this feeling of pure elation, and I see it in him too now, both of us laughing, both of us elated, both greedy for more of it, for each other. My arms and legs are trembling with it.

'Are you alright, Elizabeth?'

'Yes. No. Both of those things, Rob.'

'Hmm.' He drops his lips to my neck, pulling my hair out of the way, sucking and nipping at my skin, which only makes me tremble more.

I resume undressing him, pushing the shirt off his shoulders, watching it whisper and fold off of his body, momentarily confused when he pushes his wrists upwards, until I understand what he needs, and fumble at the cufflinks until they are undone and I can pull his arms free of the sleeves. Lifting it away, I peer at the label and see that this too has been handmade for him. Dropping it on the bed I run my hands over his shoulders and down his back. His skin is smooth, and very warm. I imagine him covered in sweat and can't help myself from laughing at how turned on I am.

'What?' He pulls his head up to look into my face.

'It's just the anticipation, Rob. It's kind of killing me, but I want it to go on forever.'

'Mmmhmm,' he's almost growling, and kisses the side of my face. 'You can do anything you want with me, Elizabeth. What do you like?'

A powerful ripple of lust climbs from the base of my spine, and I exhale loudly as it reaches my throat. The look in his eyes is overpowering me. I slip the buttons on my own blouse, pull it out of my waistband and down my arms, watching his expression as he takes in the white camisole that's underneath, the white bra that's beneath that. Touching the camisole lightly, he looks up.

'Keep this on, will you?'

I smile.

'You'd like that?'

He just nods and presses his face into it. I reach around to undo my bra, pulling the straps down my arms, bending them, pulling the straps free; push his head away to tug the bra off me from the front.

'How do women do that?'

I drag the camisole up over a breast and lift myself to his mouth. He groans against my skin and I wonder if I'm going to come right there. He uses his hands to lift the camisole higher above both breasts, his thumbs pressing against my armpits, his tongue delving underneath each breast, pushing at the undersides, dancing across my skin, pressing against each nipple. It's almost too good, and I drop my head down to look at him, the intensity of his focus, the glimpses of his eyelashes as he moves his face against my skin.

'You're beautiful,' I whisper.

He pauses. I hold my breath. And moan as he takes my nipple in his lips, pressing them together over it, releasing then pressing them again, trapping me in a hot vice.

'Oh God, Rob, what are you doing?'

He pauses again, but I push myself against his mouth, wanting more. He repeats the sweet torture, this time his lips a little more tense, and I realise he's smiling. I'm laughing with it too, my breathing catching in my throat. He switches to the other breast. I arch my back, trying to get closer to him, but with the way he's sitting on the bed, his crotch is too far back. It's frustrating the hell out of me. I lean in; he loosens his grip under my arms and I reach for his belt. With a firmer bite of my nipple that elicits another loud gasp from me, he releases me, and sits back a little to give me space. I unbuckle him, his stomach twitching and tensing as my hands brush against his skin while I undo his pants, my own heart thudding uncomfortably. His thighs are fidgeting again and then I realise it's because he's levering his shoes off by pulling his heels up against the bottom edge of the bed base.

'That's a neat manoeuvre,' I say, resting my hands on his knees, partly to try to calm myself.

'It's one of the finer motor skills boarding school teaches you. How to undress silently and with the least amount of movement, so as not to get caught after lights out.'

'Boarding school?'


'What other skills did you learn there?'

His eyes flash at me.

'Um, let me see.'

He runs his hands up my back again, clearly enjoying the feel of the camisole, but also imparting a much-needed sense of calm to me.

'I'd say most of us learned how to wank and come without making any noise.'

That makes me snort with surprise, not at what he's said, but that he's said it at all.

'What? You didn't think I'd tell you that?'

His face is lit up with one of his big grins and he hugs me closer.

'It's that you look so proper in your classily tailored suit, it's all the more surprising to hear you say something like that, is all.'

He looks down between us, at his bare chest and open pants.

'I'm sure how properly dressed I am, actually,' raising his eyebrows at me.

I giggle now, reverting to a sound I thought I'd left behind aged sixteen.

He rubs my back again.


I nod. He knew how nervous I'd suddenly felt just then. I bend to kiss his forehead and -- as he closes his eyes -- his eyelids and cheekbones, the corners of his mouth, just his whole delicious face. After some time enjoying this, I move my mouth to his ear.

'I think you should take your pants off, don't you?'

I tug at them, he lifts his hips, I slide his pants down, shaking them out straight and lying them on the bed. His underwear comes off too. He doesn't seem to have been wearing any socks.

'Have I said you're beautiful?' I ask him, brushing my hand over his cock, watch him close his eyes, feeling him twitch and bump against my hands.

I tease him a little, brushing my fingertips over and around him, drawing them down his inner thighs and then back again, his eyelashes flickering, his hips lifting up every so often.

He tastes good, but jumps at my first touch, apparently unaware I'd knelt down inbetween his legs, and growls quietly under his breath. I hold him firmly in one hand, press my mouth to his head again, dragging my lips around him, then opening them to take him into my mouth, rolling my tongue around him, listening to his breathing.

'I'm not going to last very long if you keep doing that,' he warns me.

I hum, pulling him deeper into my mouth, wanting him, stroking his belly with one hand and feeling him tensing up beneath my touch, sliding my other hand up and around his base. The sound of his panting fills my ears and I make love to him with my mouth and tongue. His hands are tight in my hair.

'Elizabeth --,' his voice urgent now.

I hum again, stay with him as his hips rise, take it as he comes in my mouth.

He wasn't joking; he comes quietly, a series of low, deep, breathy sighs.

I'm still swallowing as he lifts me up, his hands on my ribcage, pulling at me to stand up, hugging me close to his heaving chest. He holds me tightly, his arms pressed around my waist, keeping me close, calming himself. I kiss the top of his head, feel his breathing slowing down. He twists his head and urges me down to his mouth, shoving his tongue inside, filling me, his eyes filling mine, his hands hot and busy over my ass. Eventually, he releases my mouth and taps at my waist.

'I think you should take this off, before we get it messy,' he says into my ear, slipping a couple of fingers inside the waistband. 'What do you say?'

I kiss the side of his head, then step back to undress. He watches. I lift first one leg, then the other, out of the skirt. He takes it from me as I make to lie it on the bed, folding it carefully in his hands before putting it down on top of the rest of our clothes, then turns back to look at me pushing my stockings down my legs, stepping out of my shoes. He holds my arm to keep me balanced as I release my feet from the nylon, wriggling my toes, enjoying the feel of the thick rug at the side of the bed.

'Mmm. No better sight than a woman undressing,' he's murmuring.

'This?' touching my camisole.

'No, that stays,' he smiles at me.

'I think I'll move these clothes off the bed.'

I hesitate, then plunge on.

'Can you -- would you -- stay the night Rob, only I'd hate to wake up alone in the morning?'

He grabs at my wrists, presses his thumbs into my palms and when I dare to look at his face, see that he seems a little shocked.

'But Elizabeth, who could ever do that to you?'

Relief washes through me, and I tremble with it.

'I -- my last relationship -- uh, well, he couldn't ever bring himself to stay the night with me, and I ended up feeling lonelier than when I'd been single.'

I flex my toes through the woollen rug for the distraction.

'I'm going to find it difficult to leave you at all,' he says, massaging my hands and wrists in his.


I lean up against his torso, dropping my head to rest on his shoulder.

He kisses my ear, lets go of my hands and we move together; he picks up our clothes and takes them over to the armchair, draping them over the back of it, carefully but not fussily; I shake and lift the bedcovers, pulling them back.

Just as I'm about to climb in, his arm slides around my waist from behind and he presses me back against his growing erection, his other arm sweeping my hair to one side as he drags his open mouth back and forth across my neck, his stubble rasping against my skin. This is very nice, and I drop my head to give him more to play with. Heat races over my body as I feel his hand stroking its way over a breast, pausing just long enough to tilt his palm beneath it, cradling it, then feathering over my ribs, which is ticklish and makes me suck my breath in. I feel him smile against my neck and think his stomach muscles might be moving as if he's laughing.

'This is funny, is it?' I ask.

'I can't believe my luck, that's all,' he's muttering, then catches me by surprise as he flattens his hand across my belly, pushing me more firmly backwards to him, lifting and rubbing my ass up against himself.

I sigh.

'You like that?'

'Uh, yes. You've, um, recovered pretty quickly?'

'I think I said it was my dating skills that were rusty, Elizabeth, not this.'

He makes me giggle again, the way he's pressing and wriggling his cock against me. But as his hand dives down inside the front of my knickers, his clever fingers halt the giggling altogether.


She feels wonderful. Soft and warm and very wet indeed. There's so much I want to do with this woman I'm finding it difficult to focus. The feel of her breasts, their warmth and heaviness through the fabric of her camisole; the constellations of freckles that tempt me to touch and lick her skin all over; the matching dimples at the top of her hips. So much to explore. Except that now she's writhing and gasping like that, I'm tuning in to the way her hips are beginning to swing and rotate against me.

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bySara2000Z© 39 comments/ 125133 views/ 99 favorites

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