The Shop Girl and the Priest

"Thanks, Gem," I said.

"No problem, Hun," she said. "It came while I was in the kitchen."

"No French maid's outfit?" I said.

"If I had one, Babe, you'd be wearing it," she hissed back, stepping back out into the corridor. "But if you'd worn it, he'd be screwing your brains out." She grinned. "Let the boy have his dinner first," she whispered, then shouted, "Have a great night, guys!"

I shook my head and pushed the door shut, turning the knob on the lock just in case.

We sat down and ate our excellent meal, chatting and bantering to each other.

"So what did you two plan, Lovely Jaime?"

"Plan?" I said in some shock and hand on my chest. "Why Russell, how could you think such a thing?"

"Lucky guess; you look like a million dollars and have just something about you, the dress is lovely but it's not one I've seen you in before. And the lovely Gemma? Yeah, she looked proper innocent when she came in and checked us both out."

I picked up my wine and sipped it.

"Okay, Russ, I must confess I do have a bit of a treat for you tonight." I walked over to my stereo and played the music selected by Gemma from my phone, then switched off the main lights, just leaving the candles and my two bedside lamps.

The first song was 'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran, and I took my boyfriend's hand and we danced. It was lovely and romantic and we kissed. Next was one of my favourites: Clapton's 'Wonderful Tonight' and I just moved with him, romantic, sweet, yet still as sexy as hell.

As Eric finished his song, it smooched into Nat and Natalie Cole singing 'Unforgettable.' I slowly danced him back to the sofa and pushed him down to sit. I tilted my angle poise lamp to illuminate the space Gemma and I had cleared in front of the sofa.

I started to unbutton my, sorry, Gemma's, dress, from the top down, exposing shiny black lace at my shoulders, the pale pink flesh of my cleavage, then my narrow waist before the thing fell open to expose the high relief of the lace at the bottom, the black suspenders holding up the black sparkly-topped stockings that I had wowed an entire Ann Summers party with.

It seemed I was doing the same for the 26-year-old vicar I was so enamoured of. Who the fuck was I kidding, I wasn't enamoured, I wasn't crazy about him. I was in love with the man in front of me, the man for whom I'd performed this quite elaborate strip-tease.

I stalked forward forwards and stopped just in front of him, weight on my right leg and hands on hips.

"So, Father Hughes, have you been a good vicar today?"

"I..." he burbled, then came back to himself, watching as I rolled then flashed my eyes at him, "Oh..." I crooked one knee in front of the other and posed. "Ahem... I've been an exceedingly good vicar today, Miss Connor. Do you have something for me if I have?"

I stepped between his legs and I knelt, unbuttoned his jeans and as I tugged at them, he raised his fine arse and enabled me to pull them past his knees, bringing his elasticated boxers down with them and his huge erection sprung forward.

"Oooh, look at you, Father Russ!" I said reaching out to stroke him.

"Oooooh, okay!" He flinched, pushing up. I put his hand into the centre of his chest and pushed him back down again.

"Stay just where you are, Russ." I smiled at him as I lowered my mouth onto his penis. "I owe you this one."

I'd gone down on him quite a few times, always stopping before he got too carried away as I always wanted him to make love to me afterwards, but tonight we were early and there would still be time.

I started to move up and down on him, mouthing, licking, sucking—hitting the stretched piece of skin just behind the head that I'd read about in Cheryls' books, and on the few porn videos I'd watched on the internet. It was obviously the right spot and the right thing to do, as I felt him tremble beneath me.

"...And it gives him something to hold onto when he comes in your mouth..."

I took his hand, either grasping the throw over the chair or reaching out for my face but not quite doing so. I helped him out with that and took it, wrapping it around my long dark ponytail.

"Oh... Jesus!" he gasped. It seemed it was just what was needed and I wanked him quite hard and fast, "Jai! Shit! Baby... I..." he gasped, "Ooooooooohchriiiiiist!!" he gasped, curling up almost as his come jetted into my mouth.

It was okay. Cheryl's books had it as a positive fountain that sprouted everywhere, including face, hair and down the heroines' tits.

No way did I want it going that far. I had promised to loan this outfit to Gemma in seven days. I didn't have the first clue on how I was going to wash this, heaven forbid have to take it to a dry cleaner with embarrassing white stains on it...

It was a tiny amount that I barely tasted and I swallowed, finding the slightly tart taste on my tongue. It was fine, and thus educated, I continued with my sexy clean-up, quite proud of myself that I'd joined that particular sexy 'club' my former work colleagues had joked about when drunk. I finished my mouthings, making sure there was nothing left that could mark my clothing; sexy and romantic huh?

Anyway, once finished I stood up, took both of his hands and pulled him to his feet,

"You taste nice, Father Russell. Your turn, I think."

"Hell yeah!" he said, sweeping me off my feet and into his arms. Walking across to my bed, he kissed me hard and long, not caring that a few moments before his own semen had been in my mouth. He laid me down on the bed gently and with great care, reaching down to tug my delicate panties off my bottom, down my thighs and kissing all the flesh he exposed.

I started to giggle. I'd had my porn star moment, I was back to being little ol' me again with my amazing man, my amazing man had a new lease of life, and he licked, sucked, mouthed and caressed every inch of me.

My corset had been untied, unhooked and thrown across the room (to the sofa actually), so he could feast on my tits and nibble my nipples as he masturbated me, and I came with that incredible stimulation alone.

Finally, as the clock moved towards nine and I'd lost count of the number of orgasms I'd had, I felt his rock-hard cock bashing up against me as we rolled about on the bed, stroking, kissing, caressing, so I rolled onto my hands and knees.

"Fuck me, Russ," I gasped, tugging up my stockings still clinging to my thighs without the support of the suspenders.

"Christ, Baby," he said swinging behind me. "I've seen you naked, kissed and licked you over almost 90% of your perfect naked body but HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK CAN YOU PUT ON CLOTHES AND LOOK SEXIER?"

"Dunno," I said, reaching back between my thighs for his weapon, "fuck me in my stockings and see if it's any different!"

He did so.

It had been a perfect night and we fell asleep in each other's arms, a totally wasted pair of lovers, totally fixated on that other person, THIS was what those writers had meant when they wrote about this kind of thing in those Mummy-Porn books that Cheryl had loaned me.

When I'd gotten so turned on as to dig out my vibrator and pleasure myself with it, this had been those life changing moments they'd written about that had inspired me and turned me on in equal measure.

This was it.

As Gemma had said, as Cheryl had once glibly hinted at with Pete, this was it.

We woke the next morning and everything was different; I opened my eyes, he opened his, we grabbed each other.

He rolled across me and started to make love to me again-or was he fucking me—no, this was all about love, at least it was for me. Our lovemaking was frenzied and passionate and his every touch was firing all of my sexy-motors.

"Russ," I gasped as he brought me to orgasm a second or third time, it was hard to tell, "Russ!" I gasped, "Oh Russ, make love to me! Oh God yeeeees!"

"Jai," he gasped out in reply, "Jai, shit... oh baby, Ooooh yeaaaah!"

His climax was obviously as strong as mine had been, and we lay together, coming down in the most wonderful sexual haze.

What was it Gemma had said? 'I knew for sure that I was in love with him'.

Well, I was pretty damn sure that I was,

"Russ," I whispered holding back the tears, "Russ, I'm saying this and you don't have to reply, but I... love you, I'm very definitely in love with you."

"Oh, Jai," he said with the biggest smile. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, too."

"Only pretty sure?" I giggled, kissing him.

"Definitely sure," he said, kissing me back. "Anyway," he leaned up a bit to look down at our naked bodies and where they were still joined in the middle, "how could I not be in love with someone as gorgeous and as kind as you are?"

"Fair enough," I said, feeling like I was floating on air. "On that perfect note, it really must be my turn to get the tea."

It was just the best day ever.

That evening I was walking home from work, laden with more bags for the night shelter and the chance to see the man who had told me he was in love with me.

"Good evening, Dinah," I said, pushing the kitchen door open with some sense of belonging, happy to see a few of the other regulars I recognised.

"Jaime," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Hun," I said with a big happy smile. "Is the Boss around?"

"He's in his office, Jai, hardly seen him all evening." She had a bit of tone about that.

"I'll leave these here and go and see if I can dig him out."

"See yah," she said loudly.

I walked down the short corridor I knew so well and stopped at his door, unzipped my corporate fleece, and undid the top couple of buttons on my blouse, giving him the view of my cleavage he liked so much. I pushed the door open,

"Hiya gorgeous..." I said making a big entrance, but the look on his face set my alarm bells ringing.

"Hi, Jai," he said with a real look of concern on that face I loved so much. Gone was all his usual positivity and bounce. He was flicking through his mobile phone and his retro 'flying toaster' screen saver was on his laptop.

"Wassup, Russ?" I said, stepping closer and trying to peak over his shoulder.

"I... I really don't know how to say this, Jai..." He paused, I waited. His mouth flapped a bit. "My six-month project in South London I told you about?"

"Yes," I said guardedly. "have they found out about me coming?"

"Well, it's not South London anymore. It's now Timbuktu..."

"Working with the homeless in Timbuktu?" I said with narrowed eyes. Whaaaaaat?

"No!" he gave a bit of a laugh. "No, it's a project that I did apply for but didn't get; suddenly I'm being sent to Timbuktu with a whole load of other priests, padres, rabbi's and mullahs on a church expedition." He swiped his computer and hit a web page. "Just looking for the gear I'll need, vaccinations and stuff." He sounded a bit distracted, with a hint of disbelief.

I took a deep breath,

"Timbuktu..."

"Yep, Timbuk-bloody-tu," He carried on looking at his screen, ignoring me.

"So, when did you find out?" I asked, stepping forward.

"About three hours ago," he said.

"And how long do have until you fly out?" I said, failing to control the tone in my voice. I must confess it was the end of a very long day.

"I have to be at Heathrow in thirty hours." He was still staring at the screen.

"And you can't get a later flight?"

"Nope, this one is all bought and paid for, with a shitload of connections." He tapped away on his keyboard. "If I don't get this flight, I don't go, AND," he added, "I'll be in a tonne of shit with Lambeth Palace at the highest level. This project is fully funded and arranged."

"Why the change," I said, stood by his still open door. I had hoped that by this point I would have been sat on his lap, drinking his Earl Grey tea and French-kissing him and talking about the possibility of him stopping at my rooms when he finished work the next morning for an hour before I had to get up for my first lecture.

There was a long pause.

"The other person... the girl that WAS going is now pregnant and the insurance company won't cover her." He looked up at me and smiled, but it looked a lot like an afterthought on his part.

I was beginning to get a bit suspicious now.

Timbuktu was a place that Bing Crosby and Bob Hope were on the road to, and fifties and sixties comedians my dad listened to bantered about being half the way there when shopping with their wives.

I knew from my studies that it was a massive centre of Islamic study and had been home to one of the most significant libraries in the ancient world, but the French and Malian governments had been struggling to keep it safe from Islamic fundamentalist rebels.

And he was going on a trip there?

"Can I get you a cup of tea, Russ," I said, trying to find an 'in.' "You look like you could do with a break!"

"A cuppa would be amazing, Jai," he said with hint of smile as he stared at his laptop screen again, "As for taking a break, that ain't gonna be happening soon."

"It's almost midnight, Russ," I said. "You need to stop for a few minutes."

"Jai, I've got to order and possibly collect appropriate clothes, I've got to head back to my rooms and collect my rucksack and pack whatever stuff I have that might be appropriate, my GP is sixty miles away and will probably only give me the right vaccinations and supply me with chloroquine and nivaquine tablets if I go private, and I haven't got that much credit on my card. The next time I get to sleep will be on the bloody plane!"

"Oh," I said, hearing the admonition in his tone, something I'd never had from him before. "I'd... better leave you to it then."

"NO!" he snapped, closed his eyes and shook his head. "Jai, I'm really sorry, baby. I've never done this before, the clock is ticking, and I'll be in 'S H one' waist-deep if I cock it up." He looked up from his computer at my face, which must have lost all its colour and the smile I'd been wearing for weeks and weeks now.

He leapt up and grabbed me, but I was sure I detected a hint of relief in him.

Relief?

Why would he feel relief?

The room went quiet as my brain computed everything that was going on. That morning I'd told him I loved him, and he did likewise. He seemed incredibly genuine, but now here we were. I'd told him I loved him and suddenly the summer we were going to spend together in London has been cancelled and had become three months away in an Arabian Nights destination the next day.

Seriously?

He looked at me, on reflection trying to read my look as I had tried to read his.

"It's only three months, Jai, I'll write to you and everything, email, Facetime..."

It sounded pretty feeble. I felt the biggest burn somewhere down deep.

"It's okay, Russ," I said. "Please, you don't have to..."

"Jaime..."

"Look, we both said some big things this morning and I know I took that big step of throwing in the 'L word' and all that..."

"No, Jai, I swear, this trip..."

"So, this trip comes up out of the blue hours after I tell you I love you?" My voice broke at the end of the sentence.

I'd heard the term hundreds of times, but I now could actually feel my heart breaking.

"Jaime Connor, will you just listen to me!" His tone was still admonitory, and I could detect 'I really don't have time for this' in there somewhere, as well.

"Okay, Russ," I snapped with tears in my eyes. "You've had sex with me a few times, I've gotten a bit clingy, but Timbuktu? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?"

"Honey, look, it's just a..." he reached out a hand to stroke my hair back from my face as he always had done from that first night he kissed me. At that point I wasn't sure if any of that amazing weekend-if any of it had been real.

Bright, happy, confident Oxford student Jai had taken a kick in the teeth. Jaime the angry, hormonal kid was back, and the love affair I'd lived for a month, the one that was just like the ones I'd read about, could all be nothing. I'd tried too hard and I'd blown it.

"Don't..." I snapped back, "Please, Russ, don't make this harder than it has to be, if this is it then just let me go," I leaned forward and kissed him.

"Jaime!" he snapped back at me. "Will you just listen to me!" It was the same tone that my dad had used, and that kind of did it.

"Goodbye, Russ..." I said, and walked away, happy that he couldn't be leaving his helpers in the kitchen, and then his rough sleepers in the church hall an hour or so later.

"Jai!" I could hear him shout, then an added, 'Oh SHIT! Not bloody now!' as his familiar ring tone of 'Happy' started to play.

I cried all the way home, getting some looks from others walking home at that time of night.

"You okay, love?" said an older bloke in a yellow 'security' jacket I knew on nodding terms from my many walks home. He stopped as I prodded the yellow button repeatedly as I waited for the pedestrian crossing to operate.

"Yeah," I said working up as much of a smile as I could manage under the circumstances. "Boyfriend trouble, he's dumped me," I grinned but it collapsed.

"Well..." said the bloke, looking me up and down. "He's a bloody idiot, honey." He took a breath, "Don't give the bastard the satisfaction of your tears," he snarled. "You don't need men like that, you're better than that, remember?"

I nodded and managed to blurt out a 'thank you' before I was on my way back to Oriel and my bed.

It was late when I reached the staircase and I slogged up them rather than my usual positive bounce. Gem still had another five days until Will was back from his trip, so I figured she would be on her own and I really needed someone to talk to.

I pushed her bedroom door open and the light from the landing spread across the room to her bed.

"Who?" she mumbled with a bit of a dazed tone.

"It's me..." I managed to blurt before I completely broke down.

Her bedside light came on and she saw my face.

"Jai, Babe!" she said jumping out from under her duvet, naked but for her panties, "Babe, whatever's the matter?"

She ran across the room to me and pulled me back to her bed, sitting with her arms around me,

"It's... it's..." I stuttered.

"Russ?" she said, "What did he do?" she all but snarled.

"We just broke up," I managed to blurt out, reaching out for a tissue from the box on her nightstand. "At least I think we did."

"What?" she sounded incredulous, "Take a deep breath and tell me all about it."

"He's..." I controlled my breathing, "He's told me he had to go to Timbuktu with the church, TOMORROW!" I gasped wiping my face. "It's just come out of the blue, he said." I felt my tears brim up again. "On the same day I told him I loved him, not twelve fucking hours ago!"

"Oh, Babe." She hugged me and did what I needed most: let me cry on her shoulder.

She pulled off my shoes and my jacket, pulled the duvet up over the pair of us and we cuddled, not something I'd ever done with another girl since my Dad told my sister she was too big for that kind of thing at around her eighth birthday.

She stroked my hair, wiped my tears and just generally let me get it out of my system. A while later she made two mugs of hot chocolate, and we sat on her bed and I told her the story.

"So is he ACTUALLY going to Timbuktu?"

"I don't know," I said. "He was going to London on a project—six months—I was going to be spending the summer with him, even worked out another store I could work at locally... but suddenly he had less than two days' notice, when he was telling me it did sound a bit... contrived."

"Don't you think you'd better check?"

"Yeah," I said taking a breath, "I'll ring him tomorrow morning."

"Ring his landlady, that Ronnie woman."

"Yeah," I said, "I might just."

"Slip your trousers off and cuddle down with me Babes, you don't want to be sleeping on your own tonight."

"Thanks, Gem," I said and finished my chocolate, slipping out of my work trousers, my blouse and my bra to slide up next to my bestie. I woke in the night to find that she had snuggled up close behind me and had a hand on my belly; it wasn't weird or lipstick, and I fell back to sleep almost straight away.