Single Red Rose

"A Valentine's?"

"Yes, a single red rose and a perfumed card, sealed with a kiss. It's just... just... just that the kiss was the same shade as your lipstick and the perfume matched yours too. I'm sorry if it wasn't you. I just need to know. Did you send it to him?"

There was a pause and for once I could imagine Rosamunde not knowing quite how to reply. There were only two answers: yes or no. How hard could it be to come up with one of them?

"So, you asked me if I sent a Valentine's to Dave. I guess you mean Dave Smith our salesman of the month, and the person you share a house with."

I nodded.

"Well, in answer to that question I will say—"

"I know you sent it. It was your lipstick, and your perfume, but Dave... he's mine and I'll stand in the way of anyone else who thinks they can take him from me."

I just couldn't help myself from talking over her, words coming out rapid fire as I put forward the case for the prosecution rather than listening to the statement of the defence. I never heard her last words, or at least they never registered.

"—no."

There was a pause as I waited for an explanation, an explanation which had come, but I hadn't taken on board.

"See," I continued, firing words out like a machine gun. "You don't have any answer do you. It was you. I know it was you. You just need to know he's spoken for. What do you say to that?"

This time I did sit back and listen, hoping to hear an apology, or even an acknowledgement of a mistake which won't happen again. I did finally get a reply.

"What I said," Rosamunde started, a serene calmness in her voice. "What I said was that I didn't send any rose or card to Dave Evans. So, the answer to your question is... no."

In that moment I sank back into the soft chair, hoping it would swallow me up right here, right now. I'd done it. I'd asked her, even more so I'd accused her, of sending the card and she had said no. I was still wondering what my next move would be when Rosamunde added a little more.

"But, if you were to ask me if I sent that Valentine's, I would have to be honest and say... yes."

For what seemed an eternity, the only noise was the gulp of whiskey being drunk quickly and the clink of glass as I put it back down on the table.

"What?" I responded, confused by the change in her answer.

"I think you heard. Yes, I set the card but, no, I didn't send it to Dave Evans."

"Then who did... you... send... it..." My voice tailed off. I couldn't believe I was asking the question when the answer was so obvious. I guess I just couldn't bring myself to accept what I had heard.

"The card... the rose... all those words you wrote?" I continued.

"Yes," Rosamunde responded, a smile on her face.

My heart skipped a beat as the realisation of what had I had heard sank in. I didn't know how to feel. I was so embarrassed at the way I had read the situation, and the accusatory tone I had taken with her. Then there was the relief of knowing nobody was after my Dave, and that he hadn't a secret lover. Hadn't? I was so wrong to have doubted him so quickly. For sure I owed Rosamunde an apology, and Dave too, not that I had let on to doubting him in the first place.

Was that why my heart skipped a beat? Or was it more a reaction to... I couldn't bring myself to think about it. I should have been flattered to have somebody send me a Valentine's card, to know I had an admirer, but I wasn't. If it had come from Dave, I would have been overjoyed. Another man and I would have had a warm glow inside, but from a woman?

I stared back at Rosamunde, trying to make sense of the confused thoughts in my mind, trying to find a suitable answer. Why did I feel like this? If you cut through the extremes of her outward character, there was another more attractive inner side to Rosamunde. You just needed to get to know her, to break through the chilly directness, and find the warmer personal side. But it was wrong, in so many ways. I knew I should be telling her, be outspoken once more as I set the record straight. I had my Dave, and there was a touch of excitement at receiving the card, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't... how could I say... I wasn't looking for another relationship, and not one with another woman. It was just wrong, wasn't it?

"Another glass?" Rosamunde asked.

"Y... yes please," I replied, knowing it would buy myself some time to get my thoughts together.

I took the glass from her, half full of amber nectar, and within moments placed the empty vessel back down on the table.

"I'm sorry, Rosamunde," I started.

"Don't be sorry. It was a surprise, and I should have found a better way."

"I mean it. I'm sorry... sorry to have reacted as I did... and sorry to say..."

"Don't say anything, not now. My words were from the heart, feelings I couldn't keep hidden any more. I'll understand if you say no, but not now."

"But, Rosamunde, I already have..."

My voice tailed off, my statement incomplete. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't admitting that I felt something for Rosamunde. It was just that I couldn't, or didn't want... shit, I didn't know what I wanted.

"There's a great Italian place and I took the liberty of booking a table for Friday night. I'd love you to join me."

"But what about Dave?"

"Tell him you're working late or tell him you're having dinner with a friend. You'll find something."

"You mean like his late meeting on Valentine's day evening?"

"Ah... yes. I guess I need to apologise for that, but I needed to make sure you were the one to find the rose and not him."

"You mean... it was a meeting?"

"Of course," Rosamunde replied, a sly smile on her face. "Sales forecasts don't write themselves and I guess it sort of killed two birds with one stone."

"And I doubted him, thinking he had another woman."

"I wonder if you need some time to think, to consider" came a philosophical response. "Is it him you doubt, or is it yourself? Now, how about that dinner? You can give me your answer over a bottle of their finest red."

"Friday?" I replied, surprising myself at the way I was being talked into an evening out.

"Another glass?" she asked.

This time I turned the offer down. I bid my farewells. There was a friendly embrace, and then I headed downstairs, my mind consumed with the events of that last hour.

"Working late?" came a sarcastic greeting as I reached my desk.

It was Dave. He had taken up residency on my chair. I didn't dare ask him how long he had been waiting.

"Sorry, Dave," I responded. "Meeting overran."

"You been drinking?"

"No... well... just the one. Now, shall we go?"

He drove, and I just sat there, quietly churning over my confused thoughts. For sure I owed him an apology of some form, for ever doubting him. I couldn't apologise though as I never really told him I had doubts, but I needed to do it for myself, to show him I loved him as much as ever... more than ever. Every thought I had about Dave though was countered by another. I just couldn't get the rose, the card, the Italian restaurant, out of my mind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Half an hour later, having picked up food on the way, we were back home.

"You hungry?" Dave asked, popping the takeaway down by the microwave.

"Never hungrier," I replied, a suggestive smile on my face as I traced my lips with my tongue. "Come here, you."

"Later," came his reply. "This food's not gonna keep hot on its own."

"Mmmm... hot, so hot," I responded, my mind set on something more than a takeaway, but something just as hot. I promised him an apology, and what better time to start showing him I was sorry than right here, right now.

If he wasn't going to take the lead, I guess I had to. As Dave, still wearing his work suit, started pulling takeaway boxes out of the carrier bag, I sidled up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"So very hot," I whispered into his ear, as my hands started to explore his body through his soft cotton shirt.

I worked my way up, across his stomach and chest, all the way up to his shoulders. Taking hold on his jacket, I pulled backwards, easing it off his shoulders and down his upper arms. For a moment, Dave left off the takeaway and allowed me to remove the jacket. The moment I did, his attention went back to food. My attention though was somewhere else.

Once more I snuggled up behind him, this time forcing my petite body close against his back, as my hands returned to caressing his chest. He was doing the best he could to get on with unpacking dinner, and I was trying my hardest to stop him. I shook off my shoes, then wrapped my leg around his, gently rubbing up and down his trousers with my stockinged foot. Still though I did not have his full attention, at least not until I placed a hand over his crotch.

"You're drunk," he retorted, finally turning around towards me.

I never let him say anything else, as I went up on tiptoes and placed my lips on his, my hands now interlocked behind his neck. It was like time stood still as I savoured his touch, our lips melded together in the most passionate of embraces. I probed with my tongue, searching for the merest gap between his soft lips. My heart skipped a beat as his lips parted and our tongues met, a tiny jolt of passion hitting me deep inside.

As we kissed, I continued to press hard up against his body, backing him up until he ended up leaning against the kitchen cupboards. Our lips never parted as I pulled one hand from behind his neck. Slowly I inched my free hand down his side, before pulling it around his front. If only he could have seen my smile as my fingers ran across the bulge in his trousers.

"Still hungry?" I whispered, pulling back from the kiss, but keeping my hands where they were; one around his neck, and the other cupping his enclosed manhood. I gave a gently squeeze, feeling him stiffen a little more in my grip.

"Starving," came his reply.

"Me too," I responded, pouting seductively before releasing my grip on him and sinking down to my knees.

Slowly I loosened his belt, undid the button on his trousers and lowered his zipper. I stared as his boxers came into view, a most obvious bulge inside. I couldn't help but run my fingers along his hidden length, smiling as he twitched against my touch. I placed a kiss against his boxers, then blew one up at Dave, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

The look on his face was a mix of excited anticipation and confused surprise. What was playing out in front of Dave was so out of character. The willing desire wasn't so unexpected, nor even the eagerness for sexual release. What was out of character was my spontaneity, the way I had taken hold of the moment and directed proceedings. Usually Dave would direct, and I would willingly follow, a most enthusiastic supporter to his every move. Today though I was no longer the supporting cast, but more the leading lady, leading him to just where I wanted. It wasn't the norm—I would usually submit to his every desire—but there was an excitement about it. Fast, slow, passionate, or sensual, the tempo was mine, and mine alone.

I returned my gaze back to his crotch. His trousers were held up by nothing more than the loose fastening of his belt, a triangular gap where his zipper hung open revealed the soft blue fabric underneath, and the significant bulge contained within. I was like a girl on her birthday, unwrapping the present she always longed for. At first, I peeled back his boxers a little at a time, getting a teasing glance of his manhood as his engorged head poked out into the kitchen air. I couldn't resist but to give a teasing kiss, nothing more than a playful peck on the end of his cock, but a clear suggestion of what was coming.

Then, without warning, I pulled hard against his boxers, tugging them down as far as I could and releasing him from his confines. It was a sight to behold. My darling Dave, still suited and booted in a most respectable fashion, was standing there with his trousers undone and his cock pointing directly out at me. I carefully lowered the waistband of his boxers down over his balls, easing them out into the fresh air and using them to hold his underwear tidily out of the way. Then, I knelt back and admired my handiwork.

'Oh yes,' I thought to myself as I stared at the long flagpole pointing towards me. 'Now, to show Dave just how sorry I was for ever doubting him.'

I glanced back up at Dave. It wasn't so much of a movement of my head towards him, but more just an upwards gaze with my eyes, a sort of 'can you guess what I'm gonna do next' cheeky stare. I gave him a wink, and did just that, placing a hand on his long shaft and stroking it slowly. My eyes never left his as I worked his shaft, feeling his hardness slide within my grip. The more I worked him, the more his foreskin eased back, revealing his engorged head. I wasn't one for blowjobs, but I knew he could never resist it if I did.

The gasp from above proved how right I was. The merest touch of my tongue on his exposed head, long licks along the sensitive skin followed by quick flicks across his hole, had him panting for more. By the time I wrapped my warm lips snuggly around his head, and sank forward on him, those gasps had become moans.

If I'd surprised him by my directness, then imagine his amazement when I let him unload in my mouth, something I had so far never let happen despite knowing how much he longed for the same. Today though, well today I wanted to show him what he meant to me. Show him? Was I really showing him, or was I trying to prove to myself?

Hands on his hips, I bobbed back and forth against his cock, keeping a steady suction as I worked him in my mouth. I listened to his less than manly moans, taking my enthusiasm from the noises above. Quicker and quicker, I worked his cock. Louder and louder came his pleasureful chorus. Then I did it, sinking down long against his manhood, feeling his head nestle into my soft palate as he filled my mouth. I took him as deep as I dare without making myself gag, pushing my mouth down onto his cock then keeping him there. I pulled away, grabbing a quick gasp of air, before repeating the same, trying as much as I could to push just a little further down on his manhood.

I pulled away for a second time. His cock was gleaming with my saliva, a trickle running down my own chin as well. I glanced up at Dave and gave him the eyes again. I had only one thing on my mind, which was to make him cum, to make him cum in my waiting mouth. To my surprise, Dave took matters into his own hands.

I could never fight against his strength, and soon found myself raising on my haunches as he looped his hands under my arms and pulled me upwards. Before long I was back to standing there, wondering why he didn't let me finish him off with my mouth. Had he really let that takeaway get in the way of a blowjob? Was he really that hungry for food, and nothing else? We stood there, our lips once again melded together in the most passionate kiss, the tingle of desire still deep inside as I felt his hands move sensually down my back, tracing the natural curvature of my spine before caressing my ass.

"Ughhh," I gasped, a muffled expression of surprise uttered into his mouth, as I felt my feet lifted off the floor.

In one swift movement, with no warning and not enough time to do anything but wrap my arms around his shoulders in an attempt not to fall backwards, Dave had grabbed firmly at my ass cheeks and pulled me upwards. I tried to lift my legs up, to wrap my feet around his rump, but even in this loose knee-length skirt it was a bit ungainly, and very unladylike. All I could do was cling on to him as best I could, my arms around his neck and his hands under my ass for support.

I gasped as he took a first lurching step, pulling himself away from the cupboards. Another step, a third, then a fourth, as Dave worked his way around the kitchen. I had assumed he was heading for the door, and furthermore the stairs, and finally the bedroom. It wasn't that I was heavy—my slight frame had always drawn complements—but I did hope he knew what he was doing. A playful carry around the kitchen was one thing, but all the way upstairs was something quite different. That said, an early visit to the bedroom did set my heart racing. He took one more step, half forward and half spinning, then dropped me most unceremoniously down.

"Owww," I moaned, releasing my grip from around his neck as my bottom landed on the solid surface of the kitchen table. "What was that f... ughhh."

My words faded into a painful outcry as Dave grabbed hold of my stockinged knees and pulled them upwards. Without any chance to steady myself, I fell backwards until I was lying sprawled across the table. My skirt rose in a heap around my upper thigh, an inch or so of bare flesh showing between the top of my opaque black stay-ups and the now heap of what was previously smart attire.

He released his grip on my knees, his hands moving quickly under my skirt, his fingers sliding nimbly under the waistband at each side of my panties. It was Dave's turn to have that 'what do you think I'm gonna do next' look on his face. I didn't need to ask as he didn't wait for my question. A hard yank pulled the front of my panties down, the back moving only half as far as it wedged between my bottom and the tabletop. Another pull, first at one side and then the other, eased the fabric further down. As he tugged for a third time, I lifted my bottom off the table and felt the black lace panties slide down my legs.

I wondered. Was the skirt going to follow, the stay-ups too? Dave did turn his attention to my skirt, but only in as much as to push it high up against my stomach. I could only imagine the view he had, my close-cropped bush forming a neat triangle above my already excited sex. I could feel the desire deep inside, the puffiness in my labia and the dampness within.

From where he stood, his cock still poking erect out of the front of his open trousers, I could only imagine how obvious my excitement was. I waited, holding my breath, wondering what was coming next? Would he go down on me, toying my aching sex with his mouth, just as I had toyed with his rampant ramrod? Or maybe he would use his fingers, easing open my puffy lips and diving deep into my pussy. Or as I half expected, he was simply going to plunge his cock deep into...

"Aghhh," I gasped once more as he grabbed at my knees and pulled me forward on the table-top, my ass now overhanging the edge.

I had my answer, and I couldn't wait for him to take me. I lifted my knees up, bending them back against my stomach, before splaying them wide. Staring back through the gap between my legs, I watched as he came closer, his cock still pointing forward like a sword ready to slide deep into its scabbard. I was breathing fast, my heart pounding as I anticipated his cock plunging deep into my waiting pussy, stretching my tight walls open as they spread around his length.

I shivered as I felt his head nudge gently into my sex, closing my eyes as I waited for his next move. When it came, it took me quite by surprise. I had set myself up for the thrust of hard cock, forcing its way up inside, but instead it was the gentle caress of his lips up against mine, as he lowered down and pressed his mouth up against my bare snatch. I moaned out loud as he worked his tongue up inside, running the tip along the length of my inner lips before teasing at my hole. Until today I hadn't been one for giving oral, but when it came to receiving it, I couldn't get enough.

I was purring like a kitten, my every nerve ending set on edge as he lapped at my now sodden sex. It was like he could read my mind, alternating between lapping at my sweet juices, teasing my now swollen clit, and then dipping into my love canal. I just loved the feeling of his warm wet tongue, tracing its lines across my sex. If this was Dave accepting my apology, then I would have to say sorry more often.