Wacky Lindsey

Returning home after six years working in the UK and Europe, Lindsey Maris cooked dinner next evening for her parents (she's a professional chef) and then sat by the telephone thinking who to call.

In the months before setting off overseas, she'd found Tony to be a stayer, Max was great at whispering sweet nothings as he pounded her, Trevor had been so neat and tidy that afterwards it had been difficult to find that he'd banged her, the Harrison twins Harold and Henry were a bit too much and then there was Stevie.

Yes, Stevie!

The responses to the calls were all rejections of sorts:

"I'm sorry Steven got married and now lives in Brisbane, dear. Oh, I do miss him," said Steven's mother bursting into tears.

"Oh, don't you know, Trevor is now a priest."

"The Mason's don't live here any longer. Their son Max is doing time for driving the getaway car in a stuffed-up bank robbery."

"Oh darling. Tony has aids. Would you be kind enough to visit him."

Lindsey couldn't believe this. She'd expected to find it more difficult to find a good job than find someone to fuck in her old hometown. In desperation she'd tried the Harrison twins but they currently had a thing going with the Morrison twins Ann and Annie.

The first restaurant she phoned seeking an interview, hired her sight unseen, offering $15 bucks an hour more than she'd considered requesting. Philip the owner said he knew who Lindsey was and had tried to contact her in London when learning she was coming home.

Would you like to go to bed with me? Lindsey shouted silently as Philip said goodbye and cut the call.

That silent shouting made Lindsey sound either a promiscuous hottie or one of those unfortunates who only get lucky in the dark. She's neither, just a 34-four-year-old who's been used to a man in her bed and was very aware she'd not been shafted for almost three weeks.

Before departing the UK, she'd thought when arriving back home, the quickest way to settle back into Marsden City would be hook up with an old buddy and hopefully settle into joint accommodation with him; or as a last resort, with her.

Right, thought Lindsey intelligently, pull your reins in old girl. You rushing into this and it's not working. Just stay home and be kind to mum and dad and something will come up.

"Cum up, I hope," she giggled.

The attractive brunette with sloe eyes set in a pale face, bisected by wide mouth that seemed to fascinate some men, scratched an under bra-strap itch and thought she should get some info about Philip. Meg would know, and called her.

Meg and Lindsey screamed a dual greeting that neither considered it wasn't necessary to try; tone of voice told it all, as they were adult voices.

"Yes, Pete's almost two and Becca is due in three weeks.

"Don't have kids, Lindsey. Your social life virtually ends when they arrive."

That startled Lindsey, who'd always felt fussy Meg was born to be a mother.

With relief she heard Tom come to the phone and say, "Welcome home, Linnie. Don't believe what's she's just said; it's pre-birth pressures talking as she's into late pregnancy again. She's the greatest little mother in the whole world."

Well, that was reassuring.

Talking about Philip got Meg's neurosis onto the back-burner.

"He's a little over-weight and a bit swarthy, tall, dark and handsome, but not for you darling. He's gay. Aren't they all in the restaurant business?

"Omigod, sorry, you're a chef. You will be an exception."

Lindsey laughed and said, "So, what's the restaurant like?"

"What! You've taken a job yet haven't cased out the joint? You always were wacky, Linnie."

Lindsey smiled, "Well, someone has to be."

"Why's that?" Meg asked, sounding genuinely interested and Tom appeared focused waiting for the reply.

"We wouldn't have the good guys, the bad guys, sexy women, fat madams, skinny tramps and millionaires and wacky people unless there were people filling such categories."

"You haven't changed, Linnie," Meg laughed. "Still off-centre in your thinking. I desperately need you to come around frequently and hug me and hold me. I've got bottles of real champers in the fridge; you can drink the fucking lot while you're here. I'm on the wagon until three weeks after baby arrives. Look, I've got an even better idea: I'm sending Tom over to his mothers and you stay the night."

"Okay, Mrs Bossy Boots. I've got presents for you guys and don't let Tom go until I arrive and kiss him. I'm lonely for a man's kiss."

"I'll loan him to you for a week; he hasn't been getting anything to my knowledge, with me in this condition."

"Meg!"

"Oh, I suppose I was joking."

"Now look who's wacky!"

Lindsey arrived at the Armstrong home and was greeted by her closest friend, she came at her like a charging elephant, at a quick waddle rather and a run.

They cried and kissed and cried some more.

"Oh Tom," shrieked Lindsey, as tall and handsome Tom came into view. She jumped at him and he caught her, laughing handsomely. Meg was so lucky snaring this dreamboat from her office, her former boss, actually.

A little blonde head appeared around the door, with the bluest of blue eyes fixed doubtfully on Lindsey. She almost fainted, such was the welling rushing through her.

Small kid, very shy. Hold back you stupid girl, Lindsey's brain signalled, as for once she responded.

"Hello, darling," she smiled.

"Who's been training you?" asked the pregnant mother in surprise.

"Linnie was always the one with finesse," lied Tom, earning himself a cry of "Bullshit" from his wife, and everyone laughed just as they used to do. At that precise moment Lindsey knew she was home.

"Momma, I want" said Pete, walking straight at Lindsey with his little hands held upwards. Lindsey picked him up and he buried his face against Lindsey, looking at Meg as if she were surplus to his requirement.

"My God," said Meg softly. "He doesn't do that to anyone other than Tom and me, not even to his two grandmothers. You are going to accept our invitation of almost two years ago to be his godmother, aren't you?"

"Yes," Lindsey said, tears running down her face.

"Momma," said Peter, holding a hand out to Meg, as if realising his task had concluded.

On Monday at 11:30 Lindsey arrived at her new workplace as arranged and Philip greeted her coolly, Lindsey thought. A handshake, better still a kiss on the cheek, would have been nice.

Then he floored her.

"No one told me you look this good, mind if I assigned you to table-side cooking?"

On the phone Philip had said she would be preparing entrees. Table-side cooking required finesse, which she had, and a pleasant way of inter-acting with diners. Chefs who excelled in this role could boost the reputation of a restaurant and so executive chefs or proprietors selected such people with care. Philip was taking rather a risk with her.

"That would suit me very well. Thank you for your confidence; I will not disappoint."

After signing on Lindsey, Philip took her along the street to lunch at Pedro's, explaining that he only ate at his own restaurant at night, usually very late.

"Why did you pick me to approach?" he said.

Being wacky, at least that's according to Meg, it didn't bother Lindsey to tell people what they want to hear.

"I heard in London that your restaurant was on the move, upwards," she lied.

Philip looked as if he'd just won a restaurant award.

With the interview plus lunch, Lindsey knew she was facing up to an 11-hour job per day, but she'd coped with work and then social activity for much longer stints in London and so she was unconcerned. Table-side duties meant she'd be working to cook entrees as well as other courses including deserts.

She arrived at the restaurant on Monday at 11.50, to have coffee and put her feet up but had barely finished the coffee when called that pan-fired garlicked prawns were required by a solo at table 24.

Lindsey knew that she was under inspection as she wheeled out her trolley into the restaurant to serve the first meal of the day. Philip was nearby checking table settings.

"Sam," this is our new chef," called Philip. "Sam Dunstan, this is Lindsey Maris. Look after him well, Lindsey. He's regular and orders expensively."

"Sauté please, a double amount and then sit and lunch with me. Would you care to do that?"

"I regret to say sir that dining with guests is high on the list of no-noes."

"Regret? Do you mean that sincerely?"

Lindsey looked into laughing hazel eyes, well-fitted to a tanned face framed with curly brown hair that was showing early signs of receding. It was a strong face, the jaw was square-cut that suggested he might be a stubborn sod.

She had time to glimpse the athletic frame and decide he could be good in bed for any woman wishing to be bounced enthusiastically.

"Yes, you look to be a really cool guy but sadly, I guess, married."

"Well, you speak your mind. Philip! I want Lindsey to lunch with me."

"Your wish is our command, sire."

"Thanks, mate. Bring your recommended white to go with prawns. Come and join us for a glass."

Lindsey prepared the prawn dish during this byplay unconcerned; she'd worked in the heart of London where marriages broke up very publicly, new liaisons were made very erotically in booths and some patrons wore guns in under-arm holsters.

"Are you married, Lindsey?"

"No."

"With someone?"

"No?"

"Would you like to do something with me?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"If I rate you highly enough."

"Wow, you do speak your mind," Sam said.

"Lindsey, I was married with two kids, but now am divorced and Shirl has remarried and taken the kids by mutual agreement. I have casual girlfriends because I seem to be in demand but none have rated highly enough to be my girlfriend to date. Any questions?"

"No, let's cut the questions and just converse. It's so much nicer that questions and answers and I'll start."

"Prawns are one of my favourite dishes, to prepare for other people, as well as for myself. There is a uniqueness about them, and I believe they are prepared simply. That is why despite whatever your preferences are Sam, tonight you're getting them sautéed in garlic butter with a splash of HB sauce. I'm naming this little number Prawns a la London."

"There will be a touch of ginger, a dash of cognac and there will be served with lemon wedges and a raw mushroom and melon and cucumber side salad. If this is unsatisfactory, complain to management."

Philip joined them for 10 minutes, arriving with a bottle of dry French white and the conversation turned to restaurants in London.

The entrée was lovely and Lindsey returned to work, leaving Sam waited for his steak and began talking to the couple who'd just arrived at the table next to him.

When Lindsey was leaving for home at 10.45 that evening, she found Sam waiting outside the restaurant.

"I have a car, your place of mine?"

"I'm living with my parents."

"Well, late supper at my place then?"

"If this an invitation to a seduction?"

Sam smiled and said he was easy, although he'd been known to participate in such an event."

"I need a man."

"Right then, jump in and we've off. I'll talk to you more before I begin undressing you, just to ensure we are both very comfortable about this."

"What a gentlemanly thing to say."

"It comes naturally. You know, you're a bit wacky."

"People keep saying that and I disagree. But obviously one party must be right."

They went to a small apartment on a low-rise right on the edge of the harbour.

"This is very nice."

"It's my bachelor pad, Lindsey. I own a rather large home at the heads to the harbour which is leased out, currently it's being used as the embassy of a South American country. I may resume living there one day."

"Sell it, Sam. Cut the cord."

"What an extraordinary thing for you to say. I've been fretting about coming to that decision. Thanks, you have just giving me advice that my lawyer will charge me a few hundred bucks for saying exactly the same thing. A drink?"

"No thank you."

"Conversation?"

"No, I'm waiting with great anticipation to be undressed. Let's do it here on the carpet as the moonlight is coming in."

"You're wacky," grinned Sam, moving in.

Sam kissed her.

Lindsey sighed, running her hands down over his shoulders and pressing his arms as if searching for his strength.

"Here we go, this won't hurt a bit," said Sam, pulling off her sleeveless vest. "Oh, I say, what a dinky bra."

"I don't have much to keep in, so I spend heavily on special effects."

"They're lovely, and the large nipple shapes I see are appealing," said Sam, nosing her cleavage, a visitation that hardened the nipples. "Your nipples are in danger of bursting through this delicate and quite exquisite fabric. I must remove the bra to release them to safety."

Lindsey, comfortable that they were still standing, was amazed as most men called her breasts tits or boobs, and so far, Sam had only called them 'they'. Then he'd noticed the quality of her bra and talked to her about it and taking an almost proprietorial interest in it. How unusual.

She noted also the ease with which he draped his arms around her and unfastened her bra without attempting to look to guide his fingers. The bra was unclipped and being removed almost before she realised. Was she in the hands of a master seducer?"

Lindsey watched with doe-like eyes glistening, as he bent forward and circled a nipple with his tongue. The mini- protuberance appeared to have been firm, but now it was proud, standing like a fencepost. With her breathing becoming tight, her eyes closing, she felt him lick the nipple and take it into his mouth, nibbling it. Then he groaned and took perhaps a quarter of her breast into his mouth. Breathing heavily now, Lindsey was aware of a mini orgasm wetting her panties.

Well, if he was a master seducer, he'll be pleased rather than shocked at finding a moist panty crotch, she smiled serenely.

Lindsey's belly felt jumpy but the rest of her felt relaxed, for the moment.

Releasing her breast, Sam went on to his knees and felt around for the clasp on her skirt, that was on the side. He unfastened the holding button at the top and pulled the zip and she stepped out of it and kicked off her scuffs. That left only the panties to go.

Sam was unhurried.

His tongue explored her navel and then journeyed over the slight swell of her tummy until coming to the panty top. Drawing back his head, Sam said casually: "Ah, they match the bra; good."

Pulling them down a little way, he pushed his head into her lap and sniffed and sniffed again, heartily.

Lindsey's face flamed because she'd never had a man do that on his first encounter; it seemed, um, a little indelicate.

"A women's cunt juices are like an aphrodisiac to me," he whispered, and another small orgasm rushed towards the crotch of the panties. What a marvellous thing to say to her, thought Lindsey. Who is this man, a sex consultant, perhaps a doctor or a surgeon? He does have gentle hands.

The panties came completely off and Lindsey was pulled to the ground: the chef was in the hands of someone else deciding the menu!

They lay side by side, deep tonguing with Lindsey delighted to have two of his fingers deep inside her; they'd gone in their easily because she was very wet. He began muzzling a breast and bit the nipple, making Lindsey shriek, although it was simply a nip. It was just that she was on fire, ready to shriek!

The fingers popped out of her and the whole of the hand was now assisting he to get his pants down. Realising his intentions, Lindsey lifted her leg and managed to help push down the garment a little, earning an appreciative glance. With a grunt he lifted and removed his garments over his hips and that was that; no time to complete the undressing.

Lindsey reached down and her hand was filled by a hot, thick and slightly throbbing cock. She began inserting it while he began pushing, an effectively coordinated movement achieved without a word being spoken. Lindsey groaned as her vagina began to fill.

She'd been longing for this almost desperately and here she was having her wish, although the real feeling of excitement occurred only when she'd been pulled to the floor, thus triggering her mind to begin imaging obscenely about what was to come.

And come it did - impressive gushes of cum that Sam with a huge grin sprayed over her breast chin and mouth. Either due to his careful aim or because of good luck, none plastered into Lindsey's eyes. They had built to this moment with slowly increasing speed she thought, as if mentally they were playing in their minds the celebrated music of romantic lovers, Ravel's 'Bolero'.

Lindsey rarely had been placed in this particular position of having sex on a hard surface, in this case the floor. It was taxing enough holding her leg into the air, supported of course by her arm, while coping with the rocking of Sam's thrusting, but she managed a bit of counter-thrust to be an active partner in the action.

Soon she found the way Sam was operating had slowly driven her to distraction, as his thrusting was plunging deeper than, say, in the conventional 'mum and dad' position.

Instinctively pushing her right hip slightly forward his action became increasingly sensitive for her, forcing her to gasp, "Sorry, don't think I can last much longer; my body is about to explode."

"That's cool, honey. Let it rip, then I'll flip you on your back and jerk all over you," he'd panted. "Is that all right?

"Heavenly."

She didn't mind be messed up and 'heavenly' was certainly the right thing to say to a man who was giving his woman what she'd wanted plus promising her a cum bath tossed in as a huge extra.

"Uuuuugh. Oh glorious!" she'd cried as she got away for her climax.

Sam gave her five seconds to catch her breath. He then flipped her and began giving Lindsey a cum bath which she began rubbing into her skin, believing the natural lubricants and protein in male cum was an excellent skin conditioner.

"I don't know where I got that idea from."

"What idea?"

"That male cum with its lubricants and protein is an excellent skin conditioner."

"It must be, your skin around your tits and mouth is incredibly soft and glowing."

"Liar."

"It's the sort of thing women like being told, whether or not they've just been fucked."

"That sounds credible."

"It is, believe me."

Lindsey felt such a slut sprawled on her back, covered in cum and her own juices running down her ass crack and pooling into the carpet. She loved it, and assumed dozens perhaps scores of other women had similarly dripped into this same carpet. Sam must have to get it cleaned regularly.

But it was so much better allowing liquids to spew everywhere rather than spreading out waterproof sheets and piling up towels. This was how sex was meant to be, natural. She did, however, feel relax knowing she was artificially protected against pregnancy.

"That was lovely," Lindsey said stroking Sam's face. He grasped that hand and kissed it.

"I'll have to go," Lindsey smiled, "A close friend of mine is pregnant and I'm taking her shopping in the morning with her two toddlers. I don't want to be overly tired. to fuck-up being my usual charming self."

"That's understandable," Sam and added he had to attend a meeting starting at 7:00.

"Christ, what do you do to have the boss call you in at that extreme hour?"

"I am the boss, and they come when I call. Actually, it's how our industry works."

"What do you work at?"

"I own and operate the Southern Ocean Freight Forwarding Company."

"What, all those trucks, containers and goodness knows what else?"

"Add freight depots and that's about it."

"Christ, you are a millionaire. What are you doing with the likes of me?