Two Thousand and Ten Ch. 04

"Well, pleased to meet you Sandy." Peter replied, "I'm Peter Swanmore."

"Oh my Lord, that accent!" Sandy chuckled, "You sound so... sexy!"

Peter couldn't help but smile - he'd never heard his Sussex brogue called 'sexy' before.

They sat and chatted for a while, she with her southern drawl and Peter with his English accent. She joked that she thought he sounded just like Mister Darcy, to which he scoffed dismissively. After a while, Peter realised that Sandy was flirting with him - maybe this evening was looking up.

Tuesday, August 17th 2010 - 11:12pm

"So, these two women asked you to father a child for them?" Sandy asked.

"Sure did - it took me by surprise, I can tell you!" Peter replied, taking a sip of his third Southern Comfort and Coke of the evening.

"And... did you, y'know go through with it?"

"Well, let me put it this way." He replied, dipping into his pocket and fishing the ultrasound printout from his wallet.

"Oh my gosh!" Sandy exclaimed as she took the grainy black and white image.

"The two women - his mums plural, for want of a better term - are quite happy for me to be as involved with him as I want to be." Peter explained, "They said it's important for a boy to have his father in his life, even if he doesn't actually live with them."

"Him? You mean, it's a boy?" Sandy gasped.

"Well, that's what the ultrasound technician said." Peter replied.

"How exactly do they do that? Tell what sex the baby is, I mean."

Peter almost choked on his drink.

"How do you think they can tell?!?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes at her apparent dimness.

An expression of sudden realisation flashed across Sandy's face.

"What? Oh! Oh, I see!" She replied, blushing suddenly and placing her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, "Cause you can see his li'l..."

"In short, yes." Peter interrupted with a smile.

Peter looked at her and realised that he really liked her - he smiled broadly as he looked into her eyes. She was sexy, with a real southern charm and a body that gave him a slight tingling sensation at the very root of his penis, deep within his body. But then, a recollection from earlier in the year came and brought him crashing back to earth, as if taunting him to say 'not so fast buster! Remember what happened last time??' Suddenly he was no longer in the bar of a hotel in Georgia - he was back in England at the bar of the Sherriff's Head in Nottingham, and the woman sat with him wasn't a beautiful brown haired southern belle, it was the blonde haired Stevie Williams that looked back at him.

"Peter? Is... is something the matter?" He heard her say, bringing him back to reality.

"Hm?" He replied absently.

"I said is something the matter?" She reiterated, "Your face just... I mean... you looked really down in the dumps for a second there."

"It's... it's nothing." Peter answered dismissively.

"No it's not." Sandy insisted, placing her hand on Peter's, "I can tell something's bothering you. Is it... is it something I said?"

"What? No!" Peter hastily replied, "If... if you must know, it's... something someone did to me."

Peter hoped Sandy would leave it there, but to Peter's exasperation she persisted.

"Why, what happened to you?" She asked.

Peter groaned - and it had all been going so swimmingly up to that moment.

"Listen, it's nothing okay!" Peter growled, "If I told you what happened, you'll end up hating me - just like every other woman. Well, apart from one."

He slammed his tumbler down and stood up from his bar stool.

"Peter, wait!" Sandy pleaded as she grabbed hold of his arm, "Please - you can tell me. Whatever it is I won't judge you."

Peter sighed heavily.

"Okay - just promise me you won't just freak out and run away when I tell you." He said as he resumed his seat.

He told her everything - all that had happened to him in Nottingham. About how he had met Stevie Williams in the pub, how they had chatted exactly like they were chatting right now, how she had insisted she wanted to go to his hotel room instead of going clubbing after the pub closed for the night. He told her about their having sex together. And then, with an increasingly large lump in his throat which caused his voice to falter, he told her about how the police had come to arrest him and about how Stevie had accused him of raping her.

"She... she told them you raped her?!" Sandy said, clearly aghast at this revelation.

"I was strip-searched, interviewed under caution, thrown into a cell and a couple of days later I was taken before the local magistrate." Peter continued to explain, "The magistrate bought everything the police said and she refused bail - I think the American term is arraigned. Anyway, I ended up being sent on remand to Nottingham prison."

"Oh, gracious. That must've been terrible." Sandy said with genuine pity.

"It was." Peter confirmed, "Prison is no theme park, I can tell you!"

"So what happened then?" Sandy asked, "I'm assuming you were released in the end."

"If it wasn't for my friend Lindi I'd still be in there. She managed to track down the young woman that accused me and managed to get her to confess that she had lied to the police."

"She?? You mean, you already have a girlfriend?!?"

"Just because she's a friend, and a woman, it doesn't mean she is my girlfriend!" Peter said defensively, "We've known each other since we were kids - she's my oldest and dearest friend. It's quite okay for a man and a woman to be just friends... without any kind of... sexual thing between them."

Suddenly a little voice in Peter's head began to taunt him: "Liar, liar, pants on fire!!" He actually felt himself grimace as he forcefully ejected that momentary thought from his mind.

"I'm sorry I... I'm afraid I sorta... jumped to the wrong conclusion there." Sandy said contritely, "So Anyway, I guess your friend went to the cops, huh?"

"Yeah - she recorded the whole conversation with Stevie on her phone. She took it to my lawyer, who in turn took it to the police along with a couple of other things that basically blew their whole case against me apart, and the next thing I know I was released from prison. No apology, not even a paltry admission of failure on the police's part - nothing. Just, "you're free to go Mr Swanmore," and that was it."

"You mean, you were innocent all that time." Sandy gasped, "And the cops just stood by and let you get sent to jail and were just fine with seeing you sentenced to Lord knows how long for a crime you didn't commit?!"

"Well, technically there was no crime." Peter corrected, "At least on my part - the crime occurred when Stevie lied to the police."

"So, what happened to her?"

"Well, she got taken to court herself." Peter said.

"What? You took her to court for falsely accusing you?"

"No, the police took her to court - for wasting police time and perverting the course of justice. What she did was not a crime against me - it was a crime against the state. The case wasn't Peter Swanmore vs Stevie Williams, it was The Crown vs Stevie Williams. I was at least fortunate that the prosecution managed to get the judge to allow me to make a statement to be read out in court about how the whole thing had impacted me. The stupid girl decided to plead not guilty, even though all of the evidence was stacked against her, so I had to testify and tell the court about the whole incident in my hotel room - leaving nothing to the imagination."

"So, I'm guessing they ended up finding her guilty in the end, huh?" Sandy said as she sipped her glass of wine.

"It took the jury no time at all to come to that conclusion." Peter replied, "The judge ended up sentencing her to six months, suspended for two years."

"Suspended? What does that mean? Forgive me, but I'm not all that familiar with legal stuff!"

"Oh, well it meant that she didn't get sent to prison." Peter explained, "But she will be if she commits any similar crimes in the next two years. Hopefully she'll have learnt her lesson."

"So, what are ya gonna do now?" Sandy asked, "If someone had done that to me I'd sue their sorry ass!"

"I... well, I think Stevie's been through enough. This might sound ridiculous, but she was just a stupid, naïve young woman who did a stupid thing because of peer pressure and not wanting to be seen as a slut because she slept with an older man. I didn't want to ruin her life and her chances of a decent career just because of her own stupidity. In any case, the police and the Crown Prosecution Service were just as guilty for believing her unquestioningly and virtually railroading her into going along with the whole thing. They wanted a collar to make their rape conviction rate look better. The CPS has come under a lot of pressure from... y'know, the feminist lobby, to increase the number of rape convictions. It seems the CPS is getting sort of desperate and sending any old case with seriously flimsy evidence to court in the hope of getting lucky and banging up a genuine rapist. If a few innocent guys like me end up in jail... well, that's just a bit of 'collateral damage'. My life gets ruined by the whole thing, because even though I committed no crime, the mere accusation of raping a young woman stays with you forevermore. There's no smoke without fire, isn't that what people say? The net result is that I'm through with women - I... I just don't think I can trust them anymore."

Peter couldn't help the sudden rush of emotions and he sobbed into his drink.

"Oh my good Lord, Peter." Sandy said, "This whole thing has seriously messed you up hasn't it. Listen, I'm... I'm gonna put my cards on the table here."

She took hold of both his hands and held them in her own while she looked him in the eye.

"I believe everything you've told me." She continued, doing everything she could to convey her sincerity, "I think you're a handsome, sexy, decent man who has been through a personal trauma. I don't for one second think that you actually raped that girl. If I did, I'd have run to the hills by now! And I really do mean it about your accent - you sound so unbelievably sexy. And... I'd really like to... y'know, get to see how sexy the rest of you is."

"What?!?" Peter said aghast, "I... I don't want you to come up to my room or..."

"Shush!" Sandy interrupted, and placed her finger over his lips to silence him, "It's okay, I don't want you to take me to your room."

"Well, that's a relief." Peter replied.

"I don't want to come up to your room because..." Sandy continued, "...I want you to come up to mine."

Peter nearly sprayed the bar with Southern Comfort and Coke as the shock of Sandy's words hit him like a speeding juggernaut.

"I... I don't want pity sex or anything!" Peter replied once he had collected himself.

"Whoever said it'd be pity sex?!" Sandy admonished, sounding slightly hurt, "I don't pity you Peter - I'd never just casually drop my panties for a guy just because I felt sorry for him!"

"I'm sorry." Peter apologised, "That was totally out of order - I... I shouldn't have jumped to a conclusion like that. I... I hope you can forgive me."

"Apology accepted." Sandy answered, "I don't want to pity fuck you Peter. I would never do something like that just because I felt sorry for you. But... I do want you to come up to my room and... well, if something happens up there... it'd be because we both want it to happen."

"What... you mean?" Peter questioned.

"Women enjoy casual sex too you know. It's not just limited to guys, anymore."

"I know, it's just..."

"It's just that a woman has never propositioned you like this before." Sandy reasoned, "And you feel that a woman being, you know, the aggressor, makes you a little less macho. A woman taking the initiative makes you feel... emasculated - am I right?"

"What? I..." Peter stuttered.

"Sorry - I'm something of an amateur psychologist!" Sandy said contritely.

She stood up from her bar stool and offered Peter her hand.

"Look, we're both consenting adults, and we both have needs. And God knows we're both lonely and far from home. I think it'd do us both good, even if it's just for the one night before we both go our separate ways. So, what d'ya say?"

Peter mulled it over in his mind. Surely lightning couldn't strike twice, could it? But what if she was trying to trap him? What if she had decided that she didn't believe him, and that he was a genuine rapist and she wanted to somehow engineer a situation that would allow her to make an allegation and get him arrested for raping her?

But then, what if she genuinely was as lonely as he was and needed a night with a stranger to state her needs? What if she genuinely wanted a night of no questions asked, uncomplicated sex?

Peter stood and took her proffered hand.

"Okay." He said.

Tuesday, August 17th 2010 - 11:42pm

"Come on in!" Sandy said to Peter as she used her keycard to unlock the door to her room.

Peter felt his heart pounding in his chest as he followed her inside. His hostess flicked on the lights from a switch on the wall, illuminating the room with a cosy glow from a couple of bedside lamps.

"Lord, but you look terrified!" Sandy chuckled as she saw Peter standing in the short hallway between the bathroom and the rest of the hotel room, "It's all good. I don't bite, I promise!"

She sat on the bed and patted it, inviting him to sit beside her. He nervously stepped forward and then came and sat next to her.

"So... erm... how do you want to do this?" He asked her nervously.

Truth was, having only lost his virginity earlier that year, and with his only other sexual encounter being the ill-fated liaison with Stevie Williams, Peter was still very much unsure of himself when it came to sex and how to initiate things.

"Well, how do you think?!" Sandy giggled, now it was her turn to laugh at his naïveté, "I want to feel that sexy British cock of yours up inside my..."

"Okay, okay!" Peter interjected with a nervous laugh, "I think I get the picture!"

"Are you... are you nervous?" Sandy asked him after a few moments of awkward silence.

"A bit." Peter confessed, biting his lip.

"Don't be." Sandy reassured, "Listen, how about I take the lead here hmm? No pressure on you whatsoever - would that help?"

"I suppose."

"Would you like to kiss me?" Sandy asked.

"Um... sure." Peter replied.

Unsure of himself, Peter hesitantly brought his lips towards Sandy's and gave her a brief exploratory peck on the lips. In no time at all, Sandy reciprocated and placed her hand on the back of his head and slipped her tongue into his mouth. After a few uncertain moments, Peter began to feel his natural instincts kick in and in a matter of seconds he felt his tongue dancing in sensuous unity with Sandy's. He became aware of her hand gradually stroking up his leg and eventually coming to rest upon his crotch. With his own hand, he traced along her flank before softly cupping her left breast. Their lips parted, and a thin strand of saliva bridged the gap between them for a fleeting second. They stared silently at each other and Peter gazed deeply into her dark hazel eyes, probing her soul for any kind of malice. But all he saw in her eyes was a lonesome traveller like himself in need of company, if only for this one night before parting ways the following morning.

He thought he saw something else in her eyes - some hint of a long-forgotten or deeply buried emotion. He wondered if she had her own skeleton in the closet. Had someone hurt her in the past, like Stevie had hurt him?

He decided not to dwell on it - maybe he was just seeing things, he reasoned. Instead, he simply kissed her once again - this time probing his hand down the front of her blue dress and caressing her breast through the soft, lacy material of her bra. She moaned appreciatively at his touch as they kissed. After several minutes of soft kissing, Sandy stood and kicked off her shoes. She then reached behind her to unzip her dress. She shrugged the garment off her shoulders and simply let it fall onto the floor in a crumpled heap at her feet to leave her standing before him in only her bra and panties. Peter gazed appreciatively for a moment at the sight of this southern belle standing there in only her underwear before standing up himself and unbuttoning his shirt.

As he took off his shirt, Sandy stood before him and unbuckled his belt before slowly unfastening the button fly of his denims, taking her time to slowly unbutton each and every one. When she had completed her small task she took down Peter's jeans to leave him, like herself, in only his underwear - a pair of orange boxer briefs that Sandy immediately thought accentuated his package very nicely indeed. It had been several long and lonely weeks since she had last been with a man like this. A life on the road had its advantages, not being under the constant gaze of management for one, but with it came the flip side of not being able to spend much time at home, and therefore having a steady partner. She had a boyfriend once a few years ago, but he ended up leaving her in the end because of her constant need to travel for her work.

She took Peter in her arms and they kissed once again. This time, as they pressed their bodies closer together, she could feel his arousal growing and pressing against her thigh. She knew she wanted him inside her - her body was practically begging for the feel of a warm pillar of masculinity sliding inside her feminine inner sanctum - but she didn't want to rush things too much. She had to remind herself that Peter had been through a very negative experience that had severely tested his trust in women, and she wanted this experience to be memorable for him for all the right reasons. Quick-fire, rapid, 'wham, bam, thank you mister' sex would not be best for either of them, and she knew that she had to take things a little slowly.

Peter had come across as everything she had ever fantasised about her dream English man - he was handsome, charming and polite, just how she'd always imagined. But he also had a deeply sensitive side too, which endeared him to her even more. She felt like taking the young woman who had so nearly ruined his life across her knee and give her a beating that she would never forget for what she had done to him!

Suddenly, she felt his hands behind her back, fumbling at the fastenings of her bra. Several moments passed as Peter's masculine fingers struggled with the clasps. Sandy couldn't help herself and tried desperately to stifle her giggles.

"Some things never change!" She said with a chuckle, "You men never seem to learn how to unhook a bra! Here, let me help you out."

She reached behind her, and with well-practiced skill, she deftly unhooked the clasps that held her bra in place. She then took a half step back and waited. Peter softly slipped off the straps of her bra - first the left shoulder, then the right a few moments later - and then gently removed it. She gave a slight sigh of relief as her breasts were freed from their captivity. She never really liked wearing a bra. Whenever she was alone, either at home or in the privacy of the many hotel and motel rooms she had stayed in over the years, she always chose to forego a bra in favour of simply slipping on an old t-shirt instead. In some ways, she envied men for never having to wear such things.

"You like what you see?" She asked him as she displayed her bare breasts for his appreciative gaze.

"They're... they're very beautiful." He replied in his English accent that almost made her swoon right there and then.