The Other Woman Pt. 03

Night

Camilla woke, the clock next to her bed showing 3:44am. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, but something had woken her. Something didn't feel right. Drowsily, she tried to work out what was wrong. It wasn't a strange noise that had roused her from her sleep; it was something else. Something was making her uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable, that wasn't it. Something felt different. She wriggled and stretched, trying to get comfortable so she could go back to sleep, but her legs felt odd and the sheets felt strange against her skin. As she moved, she could feel the pleasant sensation of the cotton touching her all over. It didn't normally do that. "Why now?" she wondered. Then she remembered. The cotton sheets didn't usually caress her skin in bed because other nights she wore pyjamas. She was naked.

The events of the previous day now came back to her in a flash. She had gone to work as usual but then unexpectedly bumped into her old flatmate's ex-boyfriend. Old flatmate's ex-boyfriend and her one-time lover.

So shocked had she been at Jeremy's unexpected appearance at her place of work that she had wanted to crawl into a corner or run from the room. But she hadn't been able to. She'd had to tough out the humiliation of standing next to the last man who had seen her naked and the prime minister while the PM showered him with honours. Stand there drinking excellent wine and having pleasant conversion as they both listened to him recount the harrowing events that made him a hero and maybe preventing a war.

And then... nothing. No humiliation or petty revenge or lude remarks or leers at her expense. His time was up, so he just left to go home. She'd escorted him out, making small talk along the way, and that was that.

But in the ensuing walk back to her desk, she had hummed to herself, her mind drifting; unable to concentrate. She was almost back in the office when she realised she was just standing still in a corridor of the most important building in the country. Standing there and singing.

Running back to her desk, she collected her handbag, and left the office without a moment's thought or an excuse. She'd rushed to the carpark, found her car, driven out of the building and gone to find Jeremy.

She knew roughly which direction he would head; it was almost exactly a straight line between the parliament and Kingston. But as she didn't know where he was staying. Someone in the office could have told her where he was staying, but she knew that she couldn't ask. She had to catch him before he got to his apartment.

She had to intercept him somewhere along his route home. She didn't know Canberra well, but she had driven that road every day for months. As she drove along, she looked for him, almost causing several accidents as she drifted inadvertently into oncoming traffic or parked cars. She finally spotted him as she crossed the park next to Kingston. He was too far away to call, so she'd had to floor it to get around to the other side just as he emerged. She had caught him just as he was about to cross the last road. Without thinking she then offered to cook him dinner.

It was a harmless offer, yet she didn't know why she'd done it. She had thought initially that she was just being hospitable. Cooking a meal for a man she knew who had just flown home from the other side of the world. But she knew that there was more to it than that. She could have just let him go after he left the parliament and probably never seen him again. But maybe that was it. They weren't just casual acquaintances from long ago. They had something in common; quite a lot, actually! So letting him go was tantamount to shutting the door on her own past. And now that the past had reared its oh so handsome head; she knew that she just couldn't let it go.

She'd cooked, they talked, and they drank. It was a perfectly innocent evening. No pressure, nothing planned. But when Jeremy dropped his quip about her catering for sex, the penny finally dropped. That was why she had invited him over. She hadn't even thought about it until he said the words and then it screamed at her in neon lights ten feet high. "Fuck him!"

Round one ended with her on her knees in just her stockings, sucking him off until he let go. The stocking fetish was an unexpected kink that she asked him about once he had come back down to earth.

"I'm not sure," he said. "With your complexion and the stockings, you looked like a black-and-white photo of a model."

"Talk slow when you talk pretty," she replied.

"And this is going to sound stupid, but the stockings just made you look more, more... nude!"

At that, she'd climbed into his lap and kissed him; their moistures mixing in each other's mouths. Jeremy then lifted them up off the couch, Camilla's legs wrapped around his waist, kissing all the way to her room. Carrying her to her bed, he lay her down on her back.

Breaking away from her lips, he kissed her neck; under her chin. Camilla let go and stretched her arms out to enjoy his attention and his lust. He kissed and licked his way down to her collarbone; his hands kneading her arse. Camilla moaned and closed her eyes.

His hands glided up her flanks to her out-stretched arms. Camilla damned herself for not owning handcuffs, knowing that the only way that she could have felt better was if she had been restrained. She then forced herself to pretend she was bound, keeping her hands behind her as he nibbled and licked her tits.

As he worked his way down her belly, his hands slipped down to her chest. They stroked and kneaded her breasts as his mouth finally reached her sex. Camilla sighed as he licked her lips. She groaned when he nibbled her clit. And she squealed when his tongue slipped inside.

Breaking her imaginary bonds, Camilla grasped Jeremy's head, twirling his hair in her fingers; pulling him into her. Between her thighs, his tongue twisted inside of her while his stubble pinched at her skin. When he nibbled at her clit again, little earthquakes rocked her core and then shattered her world.

"FUCK!!!"

He caressed her with his fingers and nails as she lay panting dumbly in the aftermath. His fingers made her feel warm, yet his nails sent shivers all over her skin. She stared up at the celling in silence with only the muffled tones of her stereo in the next room to break through the sensation of floating and euphoria.

When he lay on his back next to her, she turned on her side. Propping herself up on an elbow, she returned the favour and toyed lazily with his skin, running her fingers through his body hair and tracing the outline of his muscles.

When she reached his crotch, she circled it but let her hands occasionally brush him slightly to illicit a response. Seeing that he wasn't finished, she coaxed him back into life. As he grew, he began to sigh and signal his eagerness to return to the fray.

Turning to him, Camilla said, "Why, Mr Holland, back so soon?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"Whatever could you want?"

"You know."

"Who do you want?" she teased.

"I want you!"

"What do you want to do to me?"

"I want to be in you?"

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked innocently.

"Yes."

"Say it!" she demanded

"I want to fuck you!" he pleaded.

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to..."

________________________________________

It was with that thought that Camilla finally realised what had woken her. After a bottle of wine and a mouth and vagina full of cum, she needed to visit the bathroom and drink some water. And her stockings too. She had been so exhausted after round three that she and Jeremy had just passed out. Him naked and her... well... almost. Now, after a full day at work, three fucks and God knows how many hours of sleep they had to come off.

Slipping out of bed quietly, Camilla left the bedroom and walked toward the kitchen. The living room was dimly lit by a night light near her front door. She had only taken about two steps into the living room when she got a shock. Someone else was walking around in her apartment.

It took all of her courage not to shriek out loud and wake the neighbourhood. The horror of finding someone else in her apartment at 4am doubled when she remembered she was all but naked and utterly defenceless.

But a moment later, her terror subsided when she realised that it was just her reflection in the glass sliding door. With no daylight steaming in, the night light behind her provided just enough illumination to render the glass door a dim mirror of the interior of her apartment.

Calming down, Camilla was about to resume her journey when she paused and looked closer at her reflection. Not a facsimile of real life, like in a proper reflective mirror. Her image in the door was more like a shadow. She could pick out some details, but they were distant and faint. She knew that that was no bad thing, given that she had just climbed out of bed after hours of shagging and sleep. But then she noticed. She looked closer at the stockings. In the shadows and blackness of her reflection, her black stockings made her legs look more or less invisible. With a third of her body gone, her eye was automatically drawn higher, above her knees, to her upper thigh and torso. All she could really see were her breasts, belly, and bush.

"More nude indeed," she smiled and walked to the kitchen.