Tampa Gold Pt. 04

Bathurst - 2023 - The night before

Alison arrived home that evening angry with herself. She had just been given the perfect opportunity to show that she had changed and moved on with life, but she'd blown it.

Of course, it didn't help her mood that even though the sun had set; it was still stiflingly hot outside. The week long heat wave that had engulfed her part of the country still had a couple of days left to run and it had jangled her nerves no end.

When she had left her office, she was already on edge. That she then had to brave the heat of the carpark and her now sauna-like car only added to her temper. The drive had been mercifully short, but that was a double-edged sword. A short drive meant that there was not enough time for her car's air-conditioning kick in and take the edge off the apparent 48C her thermometer was showing. She had no option but to wind down all the windows and take what nature threw at her as the lessor of two evils.

Drenched in perspiration by the time she reached her door, Alison fumbled with her keys in the lock. Her much prized white and blue uniform clung and chafed her with every movement and step. The synthetic material might have looked smart and been easy to wash, but it was the worst fabric to wear in the heat.

Walking straight over to the evaporative cooling controls, Alison switched the system on, wholly unsurprised by the ungodly temperature the thermostat registered inside her house. She knew it would take time for the system to cool the house, but she couldn't wait. A cold shower now was the only way to cool down before she expired.

Alison peeled her polo shirt over her head, the fabric clinging to her like an unwanted scab. She dropped it to the floor as she walked toward her bathroom. The resounding plop on the wooden floorboards confirmed the weight of her absorbed sweat.

Not stopping, Alison reached both hands behind her back and unclasped her bra. Again, she had to peel it away from her skin rather than letting fall away. The day had now conspired against her in every conceivable way. Even the simple act of disrobing was proving a chore.

Leaving her bra in her wake, Alison again reached behind her, this time fumbling for the zipper of her skirt. Other days, she would automatically find the pull and unthinkingly slide it down, but her frustration that evening was causing every action to require multiple attempts for simple tasks. After the third fail, she had to stop walking and turn to look down at her waist. Frustratingly, she found it immediately and opened it with ease. Thinking that she could save time, she dug her thumbs into her panties as well and pulled both down together.

Her skirt clung to her thighs the same way her shirt had to her top. Just past her bum, both items stuck fast, no matter how hard she pushed. Feeling her anger rise to a tipping point, she realised how ridiculous she must look standing in the corridor of her house, topless and naked, all the way down to her thighs, trapped in her undies and skirt. Giving up on her shortcut, she released her pants and bent over, pulling at the hem of her skirt as she mooned her house. It mercifully gave way, but agonisingly still required assistance to ease it down to the floor.

She felt pathetic as she tripped over her skirt, with her knickers dangling around her ankles. She should have stepped out of them easily, but for her last items of apparel; socks and shoes.

In her haste to undress, Alison then realised that she had done it all back to front. With unusual effort, she had peeled away her damp and suffocating clothes first and inadvertently left her footwear till last. It should have been no problem to semi-gracefully step out of her pants as they finally slid down her legs and hit the floor, but this was one of those days.

She had selected the uniform for her staff, and now that choice had come back to haunt her. Not stylish flat soled work shoes. She had insisted on runners to give a sense of sport, health and the outdoors to her clients. But the flared midsole and attached tread of her shoes, which gave additional impact absorption, now conspired to tangle in her underwear and almost trip her up sending her flailing naked onto the floor. Finally admitting that her desperate attempts to strip and have a cool shower couldn't be any more frustrating, Alison simply plonked herself bare bottomed down on the corridor floor and yanked her knickers off and flung them away.

It wasn't until she reached the bathroom that she realised she was still had to contend with her socks and shoes. Looking to the ceiling to appeal to a god who had clearly deserted her that day, she sat her naked bum down on the tiled floor and removed her shoes. Her left shoe shot off and banged into the wall with a thud after she had lazily hooked it with her right and pushed. Stunned into sobriety, lest she do the bathroom some actual damage, Alison then brought her right foot within arm's reach by bending her knee and rocking slightly forward to balance herself. As she did, the cool of the tiles kissed her labia and sent a shiver of delight throughout her core despite the heat and her earlier frustration. Her last shoe gone, Alison placed her feet flat on the floor and spread her legs. She lingered a while longer, pressing her lips to the floor. Perhaps some good had finally come of this day.

She sat there with her eyes closed as the relative chill of the tiles tickled her with excitement. She had been angry before, but now her mood was rapidly improving. Angry for the stupidest reason too, her inability to talk dirty on the phone.

At her request, as she worked back late, Jeremy had been filling her on the next chapter in his life. She listened with intent as usual, but since they were apart, she'd wanted to use the call as an opener for a little phone sex. She had promised herself a dirty phone call with Jeremy but hadn't delivered.

And not that she hadn't wanted to; she had. It was as if there was some block on her saying the words over the phone. She could write it in a letter, she could act it out with him-in front of him-but she couldn't make herself say the words. They felt forced and weird. And that was what had made her so angry at herself. She wasn't a child; she was an adult. An adult that ran her own business employing a dozen staff. Respected in the community, she had multiple degrees and a thriving social life. In her life, she had had a handful of lovers and she read more than her fair share of porn, but she still couldn't bring herself to talk dirty over the phone.

And not that she wasn't capable of dirty thoughts and words. If anyone could see her now, naked, trying to get off on the floor of her bathroom without using her hands, she would have gladly let them watch. Not just anyone, him specifically, Jeremy. And when she next saw him, she would tell him what she had done. Maybe he'd ask her to do it again. She prayed he would. The thrill of being watched while she got off was something she hadn't suspected about herself until now.

At that, she opened her eyes and looked down. The house's cooling had taken effect, and she shivered. Yet, even as the perspiration dried, she could feel the moisture between her legs trickling down to the tiles. She felt it but could not see it as her short patch of blonde hair obscured her show. She imagined Jeremy seeing this moment through her eyes. The thought causing blood to rush between her legs and engorging her folds as her lust dripped audibly to the floor.

Alison wanted to see it, her sex throbbing with each heartbeat, but her hair hid it. Looking around, she saw what she wanted within arm's reach; the can of shaving cream. She snatched it up as she imagined her crevasse glistening as it begged for her attention. Her intent was to shave it all away immediately, but when she felt the stiffness of the cylinder in her palm, unbridled experimentation seized her. Could she fit it in? She pondered this for a moment, then decided against it. Not this time; that was not her. Instead, she held the cool phallus to her clit and caressed it along its length. Reaching her right arm behind her, she braced against the floor and spread her legs wider. The cylinder was cool, smooth, and firm, and each stroke brought her closer to the edge.

As her excitement built and she yearned impatiently for release, she wondered why she had never owned a toy. Quite passé these days if her reading or pop culture was any guide. But she had been young twenty years earlier and shopping for toys and whatnot had required visiting a shop. Canberra had been the sex capital of Australia in the 1990s, mostly because of its lack of local government and accompanying laws. But she had also been with Jeremy then and had no need of additional help. The irony was not lost on her now or then.

When she came, her sighs echoed around the bathroom. The combination of heat, dehydration and euphoria caused her to black out momentarily, but she stayed aware enough not to fall backwards on to the tiles. Her legs twitched with each little earthquake and, despite the discomfort of the hard floor beneath her bum, she forced herself to stay put until they had fully subsided.

Standing, Alison snatched up the shaving cream and set it upon the vanity along with a fresh razor. She opened the shower door and turned the water on. The air seemed much cooler, so she adjusted the water to a warmer setting than she had originally planned. As the water heated, she left the bathroom and headed back to the thermostat at the front of the house. As she walked, she stepped over her trail of clothes, smiling to herself at how quickly her mood had improved since she had stormed home only minutes earlier.

The thermostat showed that the house had cooled dramatically. Squatting down, Alison pulled out her phone from her backpack and idly checked through her messages. There was none of interest, but out of habit, she carried the phone back to the bathroom.

When she reached the door, she saw her shoe blocked its closing. She flicked it out of the way with her foot and realised that her socks were still on. She was about to remove them when she remember the rest of her clothes. Stepping back into the corridor, she looked back at the trail of her private striptease: shirt, bra, skirt and knickers all in a row from the front door to her feet. She held up the phone and snapped a photo. She was about to send it to Jeremy when she suddenly got a better idea. Heading back into the bathroom, she picked up the shaving cream and razor, stepped into the shower, and closed the door.