True Love Waits

"How to Stop Snoring?"

I just said it because I loved to hear her laugh.

"Not necessary. No, it's 'East of Eden.'"

"You like that? Good choice."

"I always remember how enthusiastic you were about it."

"I'm flattered that you remember."

" I remember quite a lot." And her eyes were wide and searching as they met mine.

"Should I order coffee?" I asked uncertainly.

She shook her head and her jet black hair wafted over her face, "No, you must see my flat. I'll do the coffee."

I was an adolescent again. Invited back for coffee. Any other time I would see it as an open door, an open invitation for me to pursue some sensuous pleasures. So why, with her, was I---yes, nervous. Scared that I would make some immature comment or show unwarranted expectation.

Her flat above the shop, which still carried her uncle's name 'Arthur's Books' over the window, was smartly furnished in a clever mix of old and contemporary. Gentle colours, blues and fawns. The main room had an annexe of a kitchen where Hazel went to prepare the coffee. I could have just stood watching her movement as she reached for cups, a movement that emphasised the curvaceous line from breast to waist.

"Put some music on," she said.

"Ah, yes. Music. That reminds me I've got a choice of two concerts tomorrow night if you're free."

"If you're asking, I'm free. The choices."

"There's that Cliff Richard at the Hammersmith. Or Cliff Barber Jazz."

"Oh, the jazz. I'm not into all these young rock merchants. Apart from Buddy Holly---he's special. I've got all his records there, as you'll see."

I went to the black box record player and saw the Buddy Holly image. I picked up an LP and put it on. The strains of 'That'll Be the Day' filled the room.

Hazel came through holding two mugs and placed them on mats on a coffee table. "His music just gets better and better. He's developing the whole idea of the modern stuff. You'll see, in ten years time---" She stopped, her face reddening.

"You're really a fan. So it's not just books."

We sat side by side and talked books and film. "I've seen 'East of Eden' three times."

"Not as strong as the book," I observed.

"It couldn't be," she admitted, then putting her cup down she turned towards me. I could smell the delicate lavender odour that came off her. I was lost. "I have that confession to tell you."

"Confession?" Her face was very close, close enough to kiss. In my normal situations with any of my previous women I'd already have her in my arms. But pleasant as this was I was fearing making a false move.

"About Thelma."

"Oh, that. But I do recall you weren't one of the teasing ones."

"But didn't Mrs Milligan say how she knew what Thelma was intending?

"Well, she said something--" And even as I spoke I guessed where this was going,"--about---a---girl----telling----"

"That was me. I couldn't stand seeing her get you into trouble. Not when I---" She stopped her face going a deep red.

I wasn't too sure what she was about to say, but now feeling real gratitude I was able to place a hand on her delicate cheek, "Well, thank you." I said, and kissed her gently.

She moved warmly against me, responding with lips and our tongues touched. The kiss was long and deep, her hands rubbed against my chest.

When we broke the kiss she lay back in my arms and murmured softly, "Since I was eighteen I've wondered what this would be like."

"Have you?" I asked, "Not too much of a disappointment, I hope."

"Oh, quite the opposite, " And she raised her face to be kissed again. My lips kissed her cheeks, her eyes, nuzzled her hair before settling on her mouth. This time our tongues meshed like wrestling snakes. I heard her moan gently. My hand was tight on her side and deliberately she turned her body so that her left breast was under my eager grasp. My fingers rippled gently over that thrillingly soft curve.

She was panting as she broke away. Buddy Holly was into 'Peggy Sue.' "Oh, I've wanted this--but dammit----we can't ---"

"I understand," I began, glad that I wouldn't appear demanding.

"No. No. It's not that I don't want----it----with you. It's just that I started the curse this morning." Her face was already flushed, so if she blushed then it didn't show. "I'm sorry."

I held her close, "Don't be. I never expected anything." Then I tried to ask the question I had been wondering about, "Have there been--have you had-?"

She easily divined my clumsiness, "I've slept with three men. All short term--my longest affair, three weeks." She straightened up and looked at me squarely and open faced, "And none of them made me orgasm."

Now there was a challenge that normally wouldn't have bothered me.

After the Chris Barber Jazz show we had another more passionate clinch and she wore a dress that unbuttoned so that I was encouraged to slip my hand onto the incredible smoothness of her brown tipped breast. "It's not torture for you, is it?" Her hand drifting to where my erection bulged my trousers.

"I can wait," I gasped. "But you're sure that you want---We've only known each other--" Me, trying to talk a woman out of giving herself. Unnatural!

"I've waited nearly two years," she whispered. "Since I was eighteen."

She was speechless on the following Tuesday when I produced theatre tickets for Her Majesty's Theatre to see ' West Side Story'. "But it hasn't been open that long---tickets are ---"

"Right here in my hand." I told her, holding them out to show her.

The show was brilliant, and when it ended I enjoyed kissing away Hazel's tears. "Wonderful," she sighed, "but I prefer happy endings."

As we parted, that night, she whispered in my ear, "Thursday night---you come here and I'll cook you a meal----something special." A most seductive tone and her eyes glowed in the dark.

It seemed that Thursday night would never come. I kept advising myself to calm down. From way back I recalled the advice of Laura, who guided me through my nervous first time anxieties "---never get yourself pent up in anticipation of a sexual encounter."

I had followed that advice religiously in all the, mostly casual, encounters I'd had at university and since. It had worked well. I'd never had any problems with shooting too early. Girls had commented about that ability. So why now? Why was I having to restrain myself from over-anticipation?

Thursday, the 29th January, finally arrived, with a shock. I did not draw back the curtains until I was washed, shaved and dressed. The only thing that had impinged on my senses was that there weren't many street noises from outside. When I finally drew back the curtains I discovered why.

FOG! Thick curling green/grey pressed at my window. I couldn't see the houses across the street. From my place three floors up I couldn't even see the street below me. The radio told me that the fog covered many parts of the country, but London was practically closed down. No underground, no buses, no taxis. Don't attempt to drive was the advice.

When I contacted the office I was told that some staff had been allocated to fog stories but otherwise we were advised to stay home and write up anything we had imminent and ring it in if it was urgent.

Fair enough. I had plenty to get on with. It was a weird sensation, as I sat at my typewriter, with no traffic noises and the clouded mass stirring at my window like cold porridge.

At midday my phone rang. Hazel's voice lit up the day, "Isn't it terrible? What about tonight?"

"Will you be there?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll be there. No taxis? I'll walk." And that was exactly what I had to do. The fog persisted but it was only one and a quarter miles.

Showered, shaved and dowsed in my favoured male charm enhancer I set off. I had resolved to just take things as they came. Play it cool. Expect nothing. But be prepared for whatever was offered.

That walk through that exceptional fog was quite an experience. Any approaching ghostly figure only became visible at a maximum of three yards. There weren't that many, but everyone who passed made some little comment about how grim it all was. One car coming towards me travelled no faster than the folk on foot.

Hazel greeted me at her door. She was gorgeous in a plain white blouse and red skirt. "Get out of your coat," she said as we mounted the stairs. "You look rather damp."

With my coat deposited on a hook at the top of the stairs, she turned and came into my arms. The kiss was long and adventurous.

When she broke away she said, "I hope you're hungry."

Behind her I could see the table laid out for two, with the ubiquitous candles burning brightly, and two bottles of wine already opened.

She seemed both nervous and excited as she hurried away to the kitchen. Watching her movement I became convinced that she was bra-less beneath the blouse.

"I'm not a great cook, but I enjoy it. I've done fillet steak, with potatoes, runner beans and parsnip."

"Sausage and mash would have pleased me."

The meal was delicious, beautifully cooked. We sat opposite each other , sipping wine, she the white, me the red, talking small talk and looking at each other, our minds clearly on what might follow.

I congratulated her on the meal as she removed the dishes and placed them in the sink. "Want a hand?" I asked.

She turned back to me, "They can wait," she said quietly, her eyes misted. "Coffee now? Or later."

Without hesitation I held out my arms and said, "Later." And equally speedily she came into my arms, her eyes alight. We just stood there meshed together her hips ground against my erection, which had been almost instant. Our tongues probed and stroked. I had removed my jacket during the meal and now her hands moving on my back were like electric charges.

My right hand had moved from shoulder to breast and began unfastening the buttons of her blouse. I had been right about there being no bra.

As my hand made to move inside her open blouse, she broke away, panting, "You haven't seen my bedroom, have you?"

A girlishly shy smile flickered on her lips, clashing with the smoky lust that shone in her eyes. She took my hand and led me to the door on the right. As she opened it a delicate incense fragrance emerged. The room had pale lavender curtains and bed covers. Candles had been lit on a small dressing table. On a bedside table I spied 'East of Eden', just as she had told me.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Hazel?," I said, jokingly.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked anxiously.

As a reply I took her in my arms again, my hands sliding the blouse from her shoulders. She shrugged out of it. Her breasts were as perfect as my hands had told me. Rounded, upright, brown tipped, with the nipples already aroused.

She reached out and began unbuttoning my shirt, while I slid my hand under the elasticated waist of her skirt and gently slid it down. As it fell loose she was pushing my shirt off my shoulders, and I shrugged it away as she stepped out of her skirt.

In just her skimpy pants she was sensational. Curved everywhere she should be curved. I could only stand and gawp as she pushed the pants down revealing a thin black bush.

I began loosening my belt. "No," she muttered, "I want to. I've wanted to ever since Thelma threatened you. I guess I was jealous that I didn't have her lascivious nature."

As she spoke she had stepped towards me, loosened my buckle, and began pushing my trousers and shorts down, while my hands caressed over her shoulders.

"I'm glad you didn't," I told her. "You've acquired a delicate sensuality that suits you. And we might have missed this." That last word became a hiss as her fingers closed around my erect penis.

"Now I'm being the pushy one," she said huskily. "Or should I say 'pully'?" With that she was, with measured gentility, easing me towards the bed by my erection.

She released me and lay back on the bed, "I hope I can accommodate that monster."

For just a moment I just stood there drinking in the wonder of her. From the rich flow of her black hair, her delicate shoulders, those perfect breasts and the curve from waist to hip, it was all too much to believe she was presenting this to me. Of all the women in my life, apart from my initiation with Laura, none had me so entranced, so captivated, so determined that this coming together had to be right, had to give her something she'd never had before.

As I moved to lie beside her, my hand tenderly caressed along her thighs, which, slightly parted , revealed the subtle cleft hidden in the dark bush. Then I was leaning over her, thigh against thigh, our lips and tongues working frantically. My fingers traced the smooth curve of her shoulder, traced down to her neck, threatened to trail onto her breast but returned to the tension of her neck.

Her hands had been moving feverishly over my back and buttocks like demented mice. Now she reached down for my firm penis. "In me, Harry. I want you inside me."

I leaned back and looked at her beautiful, eager face, "Sorry, Hazel, not yet. You have to be prepped."

Her eyes glared at me, "Prepped? Prepped?" She panted. "I've waited two years for this moment. You can feel how ready I am."

"Ssh," I whispered gently, knowing that I could afford a few shortcuts. "Just lie back and you'll soon know what I mean."

She gave me a hungry stare but did as she was told.

I allowed my hand to drift over her breast without lingering as I had intended. Down across her exquisite flat belly . My flat palm circled her pubis and then I allowed one finger to drift into her cleft.

She moaned softly at the touch. And she was indeed ready. Very wet and her clitoris took no finding. I stroked it gently while I moved my head, with lips and tongue working, down her neck, over her breast, lingering for a moment at the nipple, before traversing on down over her belly, into the teasing aroma of her.

My tongue caressed her clitoris as she cried out, "Harry---what?---No one has----I've never had---Oh, Harry, Harry. Pleeease!"

I suckled on her clitoris only briefly, knowing that she was right on the edge. I allowed two fingers to wriggle into the wetness of her labia lips, and gently poked into the dark cavern of her being, sensing her thighs parting further.

Her breathing and gasping was rising to a crescendo. Time.

I rolled on top of her and guided the tip of my erection into the opening of her eager vagina.

It had been my intention to enter her slowly, pulse by pulse. But as the head touched into her, she gave a massive heave upwards, plunging my penis deep, deep inside her.

I thrust and she thrust back, her head rolling from side to side. I listened to her laboured breathing, her moans and as I thrust and thrust again, feeling myself near to bursting, as her vaginal walls seemed to claw at me, there came a wild keening sound like a flock of seagulls as they circle food.

I knew my objective had been achieved and she was having her first orgasm, and, giving two more hefty thrusts my penis felt to strike at the very heart of her as I came massively, spurt after spurt that I felt would never end, while Hazel continued to gasp and grunt beneath me

At last we were still, I moved my weight sideways off her, as my shrinking penis trailed out and onto her thigh. I looked down at her sweated face, dark strands of hair clung across her eyes. I brushed them aside and her eyes opened. In the candlelight they took on a fiery glow.

"My God, Harry---" Her breath seemed to fail her momentarily. "Is that what I've been missing?"

"Don't think of it that way. Think of it as something you've found."

She lay quiet for a moment coming slowly down from the high she had reached. "Harry, you must have had so many women to know how to ---"

"I've applied what I know to a goodly few---but I learned everything from only one." And I went on to tell her all about Laura and the island of Agistri.

"One of the most important things she told me was how I could get maximum pleasure from a sexual encounter. "

She raised her head, "How was that? Can I do it for you?"

I laughed and told her, "You just have."

Her brow furrowed as she said, " But I was given all the pleasure."

"Not all. Laura advised me that my main aim always had to be to give a woman as much ecstasy as possible. That way, my pleasure would be heightened."

"She sounds very wise. How old was she?"

"Thirty six."

"Thirty six and you were only eighteen---very strange."

"She took pity on me."

"Just as you took pity on me."

"What we have just done had nothing to do with pity. You are without doubt a most beautiful woman ."

She raised her head to plant a kiss on my lips.

"What now?" she asked. "Coffee?"

"If you like. While you're doing that I'll take a shower."

Her head shook, "I'm sorry. I only have a bath."

"A bath will be fine---how large is it?"

Her brow furrowed, an impish smirk twisted her full lips, and within minutes we were seated, naked, face to face, legs entwined, keenly soaping each other in her tiny bath.

Soap on skin is so erotic. Stroking over her breasts became an entirely new sensuous experience. Her flat belly became a skating rink for my excited hands.

For her part, she fondled my chest and back and as her hands slid down over my belly they encountered my growing erection.

"Ah, he's coming to life--ooh!" Her last sound came as my fingers slid silkily between her thighs, bathing that glorious crevice.

Her legs were on either side of me and I urged her to move up closer, and helped her raise her buttocks from the bath . "Now slowly lower" I said, and as she did so I ensured that my swollen penis was waiting to receive her open promise. She gave a little sigh of pleasure as I slid easily into her.

We just kissed and held each other. "Oh, just to have you inside me is heaven."

For me it was just pleasant to be there with her wrapped snugly around me. But soon as the water cooled we were out, dried, and straight to her bed. Coffee was well down the league, as we explored each other all over again, but this time I was the weak one, coming before she was ready. It was her fault, she so aroused me.

"You see we won't always hit together," I explained, almost apologetically.

"But it was still lovely," she said.

Outside, the fog was as thick as ever.

"Please stay," she whispered.

So we spent that night together. Did it once more before we slept, and, waking early, launched into another cosy mingling. The fog had cleared and I had to get up for work.

"I need some way to pay you for what you did for me last night," she whispered before we parted

On the Saturday she had a friend, mind the bookshop for her and we spent the day strolling, well wrapped up, through a frosty London. Taking coffee when we felt like it. Hand in hand we walked the embankment, across Westminster Bridge and along the South Bank. All very familiar but brand new in each other's company.

Late afternoon we dropped in at a cinema and watched 'The Enemy Below', a Robert Mitchum film which we both enjoyed.

Then we both agreed that fish and chips would be a good idea. We took them back to my flat, which Hazel thought was smart but could do with a little tidying, as she gathered together loose papers which lay on my desk, the arms of chairs and on the floor.

"Hey, you're wrecking my filing system," I laughed.

Having enjoyed the fish and chips we were quickly naked on my bed. This time we took it slowly, although her inner sanctum, when I got to it, was readily wet. But first we lingered over each other's bodies. My hand and fingers favoured her breasts until my mouth took over, and my hands enjoyed the exquisite smoothness of her inner thigh.

Her hands were equally active, stroking over my chest and belly, her nails raking down my back, before moving down to grasp my erection with both hands, stroking, pulling, then gently clutching my scrotum.