Tarton Ch. 02

I watch him close the doors and drive down the road. I'm after him, and I want my bag back.

He opens the back of his van, and then goes up the path of the next house. I grab the bag like a child who has found a much loved teddy bear after a few weeks of it going missing. I'm running back up the road as the van driver man yells at me that I'm mad. I turn up the path and my husband is standing there. I shriek and drop the bag. One of the shoes falls out almost in slow motion.

"What the hell is going on?" he asks picking up the shoe and inspecting it.

I point back to the van as the driver closes the back doors shaking his head.

"He.....I, um.........I gave him the wrong bag by mistake."

"Well this isn't your shoe. My god, are you stealing clothes from the bloody charity van?"

"You had better come inside."

He sits there with his mouth open, as I tell him I met Sylvia, and she just dragged me round the shops, and before I knew it I had bought the dress and shoes, and gone and had my eyebrows done. I don't mention the men who tried picking us up, but I tell him I went in a wine bar, before I know it I'm telling him which one.

"That's the singles bar. My god, it's a wonder you didn't get chatted up."

He picks up the dress and looks at it closely.

"And Sylvia helped you pick this, and those shoes?"

I nod, "it was supposed to be a surprise for you," I say with my fingers crossed behind my back, "but I chickened out. Then I thought I'd give it to the charity van, but I thought, well I wanted it back and I chased him down the street."

I'm waiting anxiously for him to say something. I rub my sweaty palms in the back of my skirt.

"C, you did this for me?"

"Yes," I say with a gulp, "Sylvia said you wished I dressed like her."

"Christ, not like her, I wouldn't ask you to wear the things she does, but well this looks alright. I mean sexy, and I like the shoes. Oh C, I know you're worried and I won't ask you to wear it until you feel comfortable. Maybe when we go out to dinner next week, what do you say?"

I nod with a relieved smile on my face.

I walk down the stairs in my new outfit. I've been back to see Sylvia's hairdresser Sharon, and had my hair and make up done. I've even had her paint my nails in the same blue as last time. I've bought new underwear too, silky panties not the cotton ones I normally wear.

Robert's eyes are wide open as I walk nervously in the lounge in my tight blue dress. I twirl, and he smiles.

"Very good, the tights spoil it a bit, but hell 10 out of 10."

I wriggle the hem up a bit and show him the tops of my black hold up stockings.

He smiles like he doesn't believe it.

"C, I'm all for staying in, but you deserve a night out."

We're walking up the road two hours later after our dinner. Robert has put his hand on my ass, which I kind of like. It's the happiest I've felt in ages. We round a corner and screeching fire engines pass us. We can smell burning, and when we turn the next corner the heat from a burning building hits our faces.

"My god, our fucking depot is on fire!"

My husband fights his way through the crowd. He bumps into Simon who is amongst those watching.

"Simon, good, can you walk Cynthia home. I need to get hold of Mr Murray."

Simon points to a man talking to a fireman. My husband calls out, and Nathan Murray turns and waves Robert over. Robert shouts back at us to go home.

I'm walking up the road with Simon. Toby races round the corner on his bike, he stops in his tracks.

"Dude, your dad's place is on fire."

"I know that Simple Simon, where do you think I'm off to? Hey you been on a date?" he sneers and cycles off.

"God, does he really think that?" I ask.

"It's just him being an asshole. You do look nice though."

I kick off my shoes and go and make Simon a drink. We talk about the fire, and how it could have started. My phone goes off in my bag and I reach down the side of the couch.

"I'm going with the boss. The police have found empty fuel cans round the corner of the one of the buildings that didn't go up. I don't think I'll be home until the morning, is Simon still with you?"

I look at the clock and realise we got home over an hour ago.

"No, he left quite a while ago. I'll see you in the morning then."

I reach back down to my bag pushing my bent leg out. I look round at where my foot is. I go to pull it back but Simon's hand grabs it, and presses it back on the erection which my toes touched. I try pulling my foot away but he holds on to it. I even try pushing my hem down to cover my stocking tops that he's gazing at, but his other hand stops me.

"Simon stop it, Robert could come home at any minute."

"That's not what he said a few seconds ago."

We just stare at each other for a few moments, until I twist round and lunge at him.

I'm sucking his tongue in my mouth, and pulling at the zip on the side of my dress. It drops to the floor and Simon stops his frantic fumbling and just stares at my body. He drops to his knees and I grab my panties as he pulls at them.

"Let me.......Cynthia, you have to let me."

He's begging with his eyes looking up at me. Slowly I ease my grip and close my eyes. Simon is now staring at my pussy, only the second person to ever do so.

I whimper as his lips brush my pubic hair. I gasp as his tongue finds my slit, and I grab his head so he can't get away, as his tongue slips in my wetness.

He pushes me back on the couch and I watch his frantic fingers fighting with his trousers. I groan and then yelp as he enters me. He starts fucking me fast, like he has somewhere to be. I'm clinging on and whimpering, feeling powerless to stop him, even if I wanted to.

My first orgasm in months waves through my body. I look up at the light, and every now and then, it goes dark and then lights up, as his bobbing head blocks and unblocks the beam. My hands are on his sides just laying there feeling his movement. He slows a little, so my hands grip him more firmly, and now it is me driving his pace.

"Come on Simon....fuck your teacher...FUCK ME!" I shriek, as another orgasm takes over my head.

He comes a few seconds later, panting and grunting and clinging to me, until he stops exhausted. He lies still in me but slightly to one side. I can feel his chest rising and falling as he recovers.

He pulls out and then pulls up his trousers. He is still panting but now it is more regular and not as deep. I lay with my legs still open, something I would never do, but the satisfaction between my legs, and in my head, says what the hell!

I pull myself up as I notice a cool breeze coming from somewhere. I hear the door close quietly and I straighten up, hiding my eyes from the glare of the light above me. I focus and the clock says 2.41. I fell asleep for a short time, maybe a little over an hour. Now I feel a chill. I notice that the curtains are parted slightly, and the window with the broken catch is open. I smile thanking Simon for letting the breeze in, and then I think that was risky, but the house is higher than the street, so no one would see in from the pavement.

I crawl into bed and cuddle the pillow, thinking about Simon and his energy as he fucked me.

My husband returns at 6 in the morning. He is tired and tells me no one died in the fire as far as anyone can tell. The two night watchmen are safe and it was they who raised the alarm.

I met Simon a few times after that over the next three weeks, while my husband was busy sorting things out after the fire.

But the next week Simon stopped messaging me. Every time my phone pinged I'd race to it, in hope. Maybe he was being more grown up than me, and we were lucky we got away with our brief fling.

I'm comfortable wearing skirts just off my knee, and 3 inch heels now and I've got used to my thin eyebrows. Even my husband takes the way I dress as normal. Sex went up with him to 3 times a week for a couple of weeks. It didn't really improve on him sticking his cock in me, and pulling out when he had finished, but even that has dropped down to what it was before.

Sylvia and I smile at each other, and I talk briefly to her in the pub. It is like we have a little secret, well we do. I don't want to get close to her, but she has helped me gain some confidence.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask her.

"Not tonight thanks, we're having a lock in. There's a card game going on in the private room. That Nathan Murray organised it, and they want me to....well serve them. In fact I'd better be getting ready, see you soon."

10 minutes later I catch a glimpse of Sylvia, through two open doors. She is carrying a tray of drinks, into the room at the back. She's wearing her usual high heels, a purple miniskirt which doesn't cover the purple stocking tops which match her skirt. There is more than a glimpse of black panties, but more shockingly, she is naked from the waist up. Just before the door cuts off the view, I watch a hand grab her breast, and I see a sort of evil look on the guys face. I recognise him as the gingered haired guy, which we ran from the day we went to the singles bar.

Olive the local gossip is stood by my side. She has warned me about Sylvia in the past, when she saw Sylvia and me chatting.

"Mrs Harrison, may I have a word in your ear?"

"Of course how can I help?" I ask as Olive finishes scribbling in her note book.

"I think I've told you to stay away from that one," she says nodding towards the door Sylvia has gone through.

"We were only chatting, I know she is a little, wayward."

"Wayward?" Olive says in a shocked tone as she raises her eyebrows, "Wayward," she repeats, "is hardily the term I'd use. She can't keep her legs shut, why do you think her husband ran off?"

"Olive, I'm sure there are reasons we don't know about."

"Stop defending her, and watch your husband, he has eyes on her like a lot of men round here. You might think she's being friendly, but believe me she'd have her way with him, and then drop in for coffee the next day with you, acting all sweet and innocent. It's all here in my neighbourhood watch book."

"Why are you making notes about Sylvia and what goes on in the pub?"

"Someone has to for decencies' sake. So she's doing a topless stint behind closed doors now. You see Mrs Harrison, I know everything that goes on around here, isn't that right Max, we know, don't we darling?"

I look down at her little dog, which is looking up at her from the floor of the pub.

"I, I have to go."

"Be warned, young lady, if your husband develops an itch in his pelvic region you'll know where he's been."

"Olive that really is a nasty thing to say."

"Remember, I know what goes on around here," she says tapping the side of her nose with her finger.

I'm rushing away wondering why she seemed to take great delight in repeating her words again.