Pearced (4 page)

Embarrassed I cry "I’m
so sorry
,” I need to go now. “Perhaps your driver could drop me at the nearest tube?” Besides, I have no idea where I am do I?

Working canter at C, and immediate 20 metre circle. I said, no idea brain!

Daniel looks at me, his eyes asking questions I have no intention of answering, I break the pull he has on me, pull on my parka and walk to the door, all at once disappointed in myself.  What sort of impression was that to make to my 'potential' new boss? I turn around swiftly to mumble some sort of apology and come to a stop face to face with Daniel, looking up at him I can feel his breath on me, he is so close I can smell his hair.  I close my mouth, take a deep breath, he isn’t backing away and neither am I.    He's looking directly at me, into my eyes, he's moving about in my brain trying to decide something. I can't breathe. I’m motionless. I want him so badly to touch me.

See what happens when I don't get enough tea, or go out without a guide?

His hand comes up to the side of my face, I can't move. I see clearly the tattoo of a bird trailing a long curled branch and some fine symbols along the inside pad of his thumb, his nails short and blunt. Still my gaze can’t leave his.   His soft warm hand is on my face. He has a pull on me, my sex tightens, my tummy contracts, my breathing shallows. We stand there, motionless except our breathing, he is feeling something too isn’t he? He's deciding something, he leans toward me, pauses half way and his lips very gently graze mine for a few seconds, warm, soft and sweet. Then he withdraws looking a little embarrassed.  No, that’s not it.

Do that again,
please?

"
Goodnight
Tharie,” he whispers softly, close to my mouth, I can feel his breath.  “Congratulations.” His eyes take in my face, run over my hair to my eyes, smiling at my mouth.  “We'll speak tomorrow then." He lowers his gaze and I feel intense disappointment deep inside me, it's an almost painful ache.  I want that moment to continue, want his hands on me, touching me, to conclude with us naked and sweating.

Get me home. 

He quickly looks down at me, directly at me, an earnest look on his face as if there's something painful he has to say, and he's making up his mind whether to say it or not.  He closes his eyes for a second to make it easier.

"I want to
fuck
you, Tharie.”   Did I hear that right? My eyes fly open in surprise.  And a quiet whisper barely audible,” what are you doing to me?" He breathes the words into my neck.

Bloody hell. If I ask nicely, maybe Gary will make some tea...?

Daniel is clearly from the 'say less, mean more' school of language.  He lowers his gaze, so low and quiet but I hear every syllable as if it's a punch to the ribs the air is forced from my lungs. “I want to take you home with me baby,” absolutely serious.  I’d be offended naturally, but I feel the honest intentions in his words, this is just how he is.  He forces a smile and looks away, "but it'll have to wait." Bloody right, I've got horses to feed!  Is that the point Tharie?

Down the centre line counter-canter.  OK.

It’s like we've had a perfectly normal conversation, and we both carry on like it never happened. Maybe that’s how he does things, direct and uncomplicated. Like horses, but of course wholly unlike them too. But his words have shot me between the eyes, my insides are cavitating like a sinking ship in a stormy sea, boiling in a turmoil.  Aware this sounds dramatic, but it’s how it feels. It’s not like me to be at a loss for words, but I can’t find the right response, I feel like I’m swaying about and need to hold onto the chair near the door.  I catch my breath. Daniel has his back to me as he’s putting his jacket on, the connection is broken, like an electric current with nowhere to travel. I feel hot, very hot.

MCH working trot.

“Thank you for...” I pause for the correct wording, “the
unusual
invitation,” I calm myself with a snap at the band around my wrist, the dressage just isn't working.  “But I’m going home Daniel.” I decide I handed that like a pro, and all pleased with myself I begin to ready myself to leave.  Then Daniel looks at me like '
that
', and all my confidence dissipates around me like vapour.   I want his hands inside my underwear, wait a minute, what knickers am I wearing? Spiderman ones! God no!

...then, down the front of my panties, lacy black ones (my mind can paint a perfect picture)
...I close my eyes, as the feeling builds again. 

“Tharie?”

We're both still standing there, by now people around the bar are watching as these two immovable objects stand facing each other. How long we stand there, I can't tell.  I close my eyes, take stock, remember you're Pony Club I say to myself, there's nothing you can’t handle, you proved that with Flash at camp. We could have gone under that jump it was so high, but we went over, phew!  "I’ll call you, tomorrow." I spin around quickly, pretend I don’t hear. 

Feeling the alcohol heating my body from inside and trading my usually quick reactions to a syrupy slowness I head back up the stairs and I leave him.  I have a terrible feeling of abandonment, I don’t want to be away from him, I had just met him and already I felt like this. I just stand there in the dark street, Daniel is still in the bar, He hasn’t followed me out. Did I hear him asking about tea? His car pulls up beside me, and I could hug the driver I am so relieved to be away from that man, alone and safe from myself.  Daniels driver, who turned out to be a Stanley ignores my silly tears on the journey, I don’t know why I cried, I am emotional, yes, that is it. 

Phone, yes I need contact.

PF: “He said
what
!!? Who said romance is dead?” I had to tell her didn’t I?

TC: “You heard me Pete.  And
I
do, every Friday night” aaaarrrgh, but boys, they’d just get in my way.

PF: “And...
What
did you say?”

TC: “Nothing, what's wrong with me?” don't actually answer that friend, I'm not after truths here, just guidance.

PF: “Some lipstick wouldn’t hurt, it’s all I’m saying” here we go, I check my reflection the partition, and look away not able to decide.

TC: “I’m giving you the finger you know” true story.

PF: “I do, love you” bye babes.

I close my eyes and float all the way to the train not recalling any landmarks or any of the journey.  Stan takes me to Liverpool St Station, where I catch the packed train home, and I sit there wondering whether the last few hours were written on my face easily read by the commuters around me, but I guess they have their own stories don’t they? I put my huge not-for-looks 'proper' headphones on, turned up the volume and try very, very
hard not to dwell on that kiss, had I really heard him right? Yes, Korn's live album thumps in my head, there's nothing wrong with my hearing clearly.

Still warm and aroused from the ordeal of the afternoon I feel frustrated, like an itch I can’t scratch, if I were alone in the carriage I could halt that feeling.  Work my hand into my jeans, close my eyes.  Slowly work my warm little fingers down inside the front of my panties, back and forth in a slow rhythm.   From the soft folds to the tiny tip of the mound where comes great pleasure, driving myself mad, making myself wait until I can wait  no longer.  Moving faster, getting out of breath, getting wetter and warmer, my head thrown back, my toes crunching in my boots, those beautiful hand-tooled boots.   Faster and faster finally relieved myself of this feeling, a crashing warm flow from top to toes and it's finished. Instead though, I suffer all the way home.

It is hard.

This is only Thursday

Chapter oneish, last Friday
:18thoctober2013, my weekend begins here, I don't work Fridays.

In a dream world, an imaginative swirl of denim, a very hot man, a naked scene and liquor, I fall back to sleep.

I wake feeling aroused, obviously my brain had been taking trips and writing stories whilst I sleep. I keep my eyes closed, and try to recall an image of Daniel, he's taken off his jacket and his shirt sleeves are rolled, nice. The fine intricate ink-work on his arms is as astonishingly beautiful as an archaeological find that'll need years to study the meanings, decipher the codes and hieroglyphs.  His arms strong and he has a drink in his hand. His jeans sit
low
on his hips, so low his hipbones are visible, he's staring at me.

Deep breaths everyone.

A warm feeling below is gradually building, my body is urging me to touch it, aching, I resist. He walks over puts a finger in the dark liquid of his drink and slips it into the corner of my mouth. I suck and lick it gently. I’m burning up! My hips involuntarily move, my breathing becomes laboured. I suck his finger over and over, licking the tip with my tongue and flicking the end with its tip. He closes his eyes, withdraws his finger and replaces it with his tongue, kissing me hard and quickly, leaving me wanting more.   His cock is hard, and I trace its magnificent outline with my fingers, its shape clearly visible and the fabric of his jeans under immense strain.  He releases a groan of pleasure. A frustrated feeling lingers inside me, I need a release, my insides are burning and quivering. He has his hand gently on my thigh, a warm soft hand, sliding up, up toward the top of my legs.  I take a deep breath and
will
his touch higher. He responds to my will and his fingers gently trace the edge of my underwear, the tips of his fingers slowly moving against the folds of skin and my clitoris tormenting me further. Stroking more, a little faster, my wetness slippery and warm and I just want a release, a hard push to achieve swift satisfaction. 

His finger wet from my mouth slides into me, aaahhh
god that feels so good. In and out very slowly, I hear his breathing, driving me crazy and lustful.  Building and building, my nerves quicken and my muscle pulses, and the feeling grows stronger. He strokes the front wall inside a two other fingers join in, he is stronger now and I grab his face pull it to mine and kiss him hard. My tongue flicking and circling his, to mirror his fingers inside me. I swiftly unbuckle his belt and pull open the button fly, there's no time to waste now. He is hard and groans loudly. Takes the last swallow of beautiful conker brown liqueur courage and throws the heavy tumbler onto the soft pillows.

He shoves me up against the cold window, and hope it can take our weight. We are in an office, the night skyline of London only four floors up from the street, someone will see... his fingers working harder, his thumb rotating over the crest of the little mound of joy in perfect synchronicity, and it's all I can think about, my mind is lost in pleasure. My own fingers are working, feeling the wet between my legs as I bring myself up to climax. My hand is in his hair, I feel the waistband on the back of my hand, and a warm hard and huge cock in my fist. Suddenly that's all I needed and I melt into an orgasm, my fingers slow and my breaths shallow, my eyes still shut tight. I will be thinking about that man all day, what he makes me do, makes me feel. Exhausted and hot I close my eyes and fall back into my pillow, the dream has evaporated away and it's just me here alone.

I have the vague feeling I have something important to do, I wake properly. No, the cats and horses are fed, I’m back in bed. My own bed, nothing to worry about. Daniel! I promised to call him.  Bugger, I’ll do it later. I fall back into unconsciousness into my black John Lewis sheets.  I begin to wonder, an opportunity to practically run my own brand, do the denim I wanted was what I had been offered I really wanted it, I really wanted him. Get a grip! I say to myself.

Get that kettle on.

The real chapter one, last Sunday
:20thoctober2013

“I am Tharie, 24 years old, Denim Designer.  My business card says I’m a
Guru.
Single, with cats and horses. I drink JD straight up and tea (not together obviously).  I love
very
loud thumpy music. I wear black and play the drums. I don’t share or play well with stupid people. I am tall and skinny, plain looking.  I drive an old Landrover, I won't hold hands nicely but I will ask for sweets. My brain mumbles to itself, its voices always talking!”

I say this to myself, because the only one about is Max, one of my cats.

Note to self, try to stop talking to yourself and blaming the cat.

I ache, my body feels war-torn and hungry for rest. Can't blame the cat for that. I strip of all my clothes carefully and slowly, the layers falling around me like drying petals from and old rose bouquet that's been kept too long.  Like
I’d
know what that was like!  Doesn't matter, can live without romance can't I?  I light a couple of Jo Malone grapefruit candles, the flickering orange shapes light up the steamy ambiance of my bathroom, it’s a seductive atmosphere, steeped in wonderful aromas and heat. I stretch my long body and feel every sore muscle in turn. I love my life and wouldn’t swap any unscheduled speedy dismount from George resulting in a bruised body for any spa treatment or manicure. I lower myself slowly into the hot water, the steam swirling around the room coating everything in condensation, making my skin slippery wet.  The water is good, and my body relaxes into the hot fragranced maelstrom as I begin to sink beneath the surface I close my eyes an audible hum escapes my lips.