The Ghost of Timor Ch. 09

December 1999

I have a theory that the most memorable moment of any relationship are the last seconds just before you first kiss. Not some drunken pash on the dance floor of a nightclub five minutes before the ugly lights come on. A kiss that you have had to work for. One you might not have even known that you wanted a day, a week or years earlier, but is now the only thing that you can think about.

I have had many first kisses over the years and every one of them was memorable. Not for the extreme pleasure of the sensation of warm moist lips on mine or for the strange that almost always followed. No, they were memorable for what happened moments before.

With Alison, even though her initial affection took me completely by surprise, I knew for the better part of a week that we were about to get together. The distance between us delayed our intimacy for six days, but as I drove those 200 km to see her, I knew what was about to happen. I have etched every second leading up to that moment into my memory. Her first lingering look and her cheeky grin; our first conversation; her nervous happiness when we exchanged numbers; my phone call to her; my early arrival; how she dressed; our walk to the beach and the moment just before we kissed alone, in the dark, on the shorefront of the Sydney coastline, looking out on to the Pacific Ocean. Not that we looked at the horizon. We were only thinking about each other.

I say I was certain, but I wasn't. At each step of that journey, something could have gone wrong. I remember dating another woman, years later, and her pulling me toward her and kissing me as the night ended. We planned to meet up just a day later but in less than 24 hours she had done a complete about face and cut me off by text. I never saw her again.

I suppose that is my point. It is when you know what is supposed to happen, but you also know how tenuous the thread is you tread makes any success that much more memorable. And there is a certain pattern for each first kiss. Once you know what to look for it does not make it any less intoxicating. In fact, it makes it even better.

But I had no premonitions of intimacy that night in Timor. I lifted the veil and turned the corner into my secret bedroom. The only thing I expected to see was my funny friend looking for a power outlet or perhaps fighting off some oversized tropical arachnid. The scene I walked in on took me completely by surprise. It is not the only time that I have walked into a room and found a naked woman waiting to please me, but it certainly was the first.

A gentleman in my predicament would have turned his head away and apologised for being ambushed. He'd have sworn on a stack of bibles that word of this moment of madness would never leave his lips. But I didn't. I looked, and I stepped forward.

Sally had brown eyes and black hair. Usually tied up in some military style bun, it now trickled down her neck and over her shoulders and ended just above her breasts. The long slim arm and fingers of her right covered her cleavage while she shielded her crotch with her left. Sally's long legs extended from her round behind and ended with her bare feet on a rug that peeked out from under my bed. Her skin was milky white but lightly freckled all over. Sally wasn't an athlete like Alison or a slip of a girl like Camilla. Sally was something else entirely. She wasn't just a woman. Sally was the mermaid next door.

It seems unreal to say now that this woman who was happy to burp in front of me; who was bold enough to strip naked and wait for me to enter the room; and confident that I would want her, was clearly nervous. She tried to smile as I looked her up and down and asked if I liked what I could see. Her eyes darted this way and that as she tried not to return my stare. I stepped toward her and stopped just inches away.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" I quipped, trying to set myself at ease.

"Shut up." Sally replied, trying to hide her nerves behind humour. I paused a moment longer, not touching her, wondering if there was any way out of this. Wondering if I wanted a way out of this. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"I haven't decided yet." I said.

Sally's lower lip begin to twist and twitch as if she was about to explode in rage while she shivered in fear of the unknown. "Hurry or I'll change my mind."

I paused a moment longer. Unsure if her leaving wasn't for the best. But it was too late, she was too close, and it had been too long.

As I placed my hands on her arms, Sally staggered, going weak at the knees, and her hands fell by her sides. She went limp and sighed. I drew her close and kissed her. She tasted like cola and bourbon, but she smelt like strawberries. Frozen strawberries because, for a moment, her lips were rigid and without passion. Then the moment passed, and she awoke. She smiled and opened her eyes.

"Again please," she sighed.

My hands slid up her arms, over her shoulders, and I cupped the back of her head. Her dark tresses dripped through my fingers like honey. I pulled her to me and we kissed again, the softness of her breasts upon me. Sally kissed me back, mouth open and with full lips, heat radiating onto me. Her hands were on me, clawing at my back.

I was fully erect now, each press of Sally's belly upon me a thrill unto itself. I told myself that if this ended right now, it would have been enough. But I knew it wouldn't. The genie was out of the bottle and there was no going back.

Sally let go, each kiss or touch further unmooring her from her vows. The press of her breasts against me increasing her pleasure. Her belly against me, increasing mine. She paused a moment to look me in the eye, skewing her bottom lip from right to left and biting gently. And then she went down.

We both knew in that instant that had been our last chance to stop. The last chance to end this madness. The last chance to stop the destruction of three people's lives. But we couldn't.

On her knees, Sally found the cord that held up my pants and released it. The cool air of the room caused me to twitch at the shoulder as if I could shake it off. A shiver ripped down my spine. My pants fell away, and I stepped out of them with ease. Sally regarded me without making eye contact, then took me in her hand.

The blood surged into me and I gasped, "Oh fuck!" After two years of being alone, I had forgotten how good a woman's touch could be. How inadequate mine had been.

Holding me steady, Sally glanced up quickly, then closed her eyes. She took me in her mouth and I closed mine. There are many pleasures in life, but a woman willingly swallowing you has to be one of the greatest sensations known to man.

She slowly jerked her head back and forth, her tongue curling around me, exploring every square inch. That moist muscle wrapped itself around me, squeezing tight. Bliss! I pulled my shirt over my head to get a better view and threw it to the floor. If someone had burst in on us, I couldn't cover myself and at that moment I didn't care.

Sally knew what she was doing, and it didn't take long for me to feel it. "Stop, stop, stop!" I begged her. "It's happening too fast!"

Sally pulled herself to her feet, smiled and kissed me. "Lie down," she said.

I held her hands and turned her around, lowering myself to my bed. I kissed her breasts and her belly, then pulled her down with me. As lay back, Sally straddled me and, reaching down, guided me in. I felt that immediate moist constriction and then the plunge inward. It had been such a long time since Alison that Sally felt like my first ever fuck.

Sally felt it too, that familiar yet oddly different strange sensation of somebody new. She tilted her head toward the ceiling, gasping in pleasure as we slid into each other. I watched her slowly and silently ride up and down, not caring a moment for the unromantic surroundings. She lit up the room with her skin and her smile.

As she moved faster, she let go of her guilt. Her grin first turning into a smile, her smile into a giggle and her giggle into a laugh. She gasped as her pleasure grew, pulling at her own breasts, biting her lip to stop from screaming through the soundproofed walls.

"So," she said, some joke clearly on her mind, "what's a nice guy like you doing in a girl like me?"

I laughed but said nothing, even though I could think of a hundred inappropriate things to say in reply. I didn't want to say anything lest I say something that ruined the mood. My mind was already racing ahead, hoping that this wasn't a one-night stand. But the one word that kept repeating in my head was "why"? I knew I was drunk, and that something stupid might slip out if I said anything at all, so I kept quiet. I had a raven haired beauty riding me in a secret room in a war-torn country. If I played my hand carefully, this moment would live forever in my dreams.

Sally eventually collapsed on me in a pile of sweat and panting. Her long black hair plastered to her face and neck and she had to peel it off from in between us. Her milky white skin was glowing red and lines where I had scratched her back and ribs were now raised up long straight rows of welts.

We lay there panting for ages until our heat faded and the air conditioning chilled us. I threw my blankets over her as she nuzzled my neck with affection. I could feel the warm trickle of cum flowing out of her onto my leg, but didn't give a damn about the next day's washing.

Eventually Sally raised herself up on her elbow and looked me in the eye, her passion subsiding and her personality re-assuming control.

"So," she giggled, "what is your middle name?"

"Theo," I said, "and you?"

"Marie."

Sally grinned at me like an idiot. She was silent for a moment, but then said, "That has to be my longest seduction ever!"

"Longest?" I replied. Completely stunned. "It took you thirty seconds to get me into bed."

"Are you kidding?" She retorted. "I've been trying to get you to fuck me for three years!"