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I have just had a most extraordinary experience, and I must tell someone about it.
I had a phone call from a girl, Cali Smith, she called herself. She wanted a copy of my new book, Counterpoint. She lived some distance from me, but she said she wanted it straight away. She said she lived alone and I could crash at hers, if I came straight away.
I was not going to disappoint this girl, her sweet pleading voice reached deep into my heart. I know what it is like to be alone and desperate for the carnal pleasures of a good thriller.
My voice sounded reluctant over the phone, I agreed to come, but I did not want to appear, easy. I did not know this girl, or what I was about to get into.
I left my mansion, just after 9pm, grateful for the warmth of my lined, navy blue, Burberry raincoat and homburg hat, as the torrential rain and storm force wind lashed and pushed me to my silver Jaguar XJR, gleaming in the beam of security lights. As the weightless door swung open, I quickly fell inside, greeted by the sumptuous smell of newness and leather. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree and I waited a moment for the system to stabilise. The car gave a brief, almost imperceptible shudder as it started, the tachometer was the only clue that the engine was running. I set off to keep my mysterious appointment.
I hope this girl is worth it!
A million thoughts ran through my mind, as I raced through the sleeping villages and desolate country lanes, in a vicious hiss of swirling spray. This was a bizarre situation; all this way, all this trouble for a book. I knew nothing about the girl, apart from the fact she claimed to live alone. She sounded cute and very quick witted over the phone, still, you cannot judge a person by voice and wit alone. There are millions of new books out there, why choose Counterpoint, why did she want me to deliver it in person? I was starting to worry now! She could be a stalker, this being her ploy to lure me into her clutches. She might have researched my bio’s on book web sites. Perhaps she thought of me as Max Fortune, the ingenious and likeable hero in my three books. Perhaps she saw herself as Carla Day, the stunningly attractive, kick ass bitch, his partner and lover. Hell, if she acts like Carla…
Cali’s small cottage was now in view. Through the swish, swish of the windscreen wipers I could see it, set back from the road, a narrow gravel drive down one side. It was a chocolate box picture, cottage. Red brick walls, slate roof, plants around porch and windows, probably English Roses and climbers. The hall, lounge and an upstairs room had lights on. The heavy curtains were drawn, so I could not see anyone inside. I decided to pull in on the verge outside and sneak in to see what was waiting for me. Max would do just that, he would not risk Cali hearing the crunch of the gravel as the car entered the drive. He would check things out before committing. As Carla always said, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” That was good advice!
The rain decided to come down in sheets, blown by the strong gusts. It even threatened to tear my hat off, if that happened, it would be lost in the inky black night. I held it down and crept across the squelching lawn in my black, polished leather shoes made by Jones.
As Max or Carla would do, I looked for security detectors and possibly CCTV. They would also use their phone camera to check for infrared beams, but I was not that paranoid. There was just the usual security light over the porch. I approached the porch along the front wall, effectively behind the PIR detector. I slipped a piece of paper from my pocket over the detector and let it stick on with the wet. I had disarmed the PIR detector, so I could walk freely about, outside.
There was no one in the hall, but I could hear soft, romantic music, faintly playing. Lonely people prefer music, to the television, for company, if they are roaming around the house.
I tried the downstairs window. The bushes prevented me getting too close, but I could see just the back of a girl in her mid-twenties, moving around. Mid-twenties, Carla is that age! I waited, Cali did not turn and face me, but there was no one with her.
I decided it was safe to meet her.
I removed the paper from the PIR, and went back to the car. I parked in the drive and walked along the path to the porch. The security lights came on as I approached.
Cali was obviously alert; she lit the hall and opened the door, as I got to it.
Wow! She was stunning! A 5 foot 5 inch tall, slim blond, dressed in a soft looking, cuddly pink dressing gown. Her hair was up in a ponytail that swished and flicked provocatively as she moved her head. Her face was intense and expressive as she went through the emotions of surprise at seeing me, joy that I had arrived at last, and expectation of what was to come. I could see in her laser blue eyes that she had examined me, analysed me and approved of me, all in a millisecond. The eyes had missed nothing.
With a noticeable softening of her face, in acceptance of me, the warmth of her smile made me feel weak inside. I could not stop thinking about the flow of emotions she was emitting. I was so absorbed that I stood there like a dumbstruck teenager. That did not escape her, either.
Hi John, she said in a gentle, slightly husky voice, thank you so much for coming over. She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hall. Oh! You’re soaked, you poor thing. Let me get these wet things off you. She shut the door and proceeded to remove my hat and raincoat. I remained standing on the coconut door mat, not wanting to drip over her highly polished wood strip flooring. This was the real thing; she was not a veneered ply kind of girl!
A synapse fired in my brain, as I struggled to break out of the spell she had placed on me. My heart rate was about 160 and my nostrils were flaring as I was starting to pant, through shortage of breath
“Hello Cali, I am delighted to meet you, so nice to put a face to the voice, don’t you think.” I blurted like a star struck idiot, there must be a better line than that, I’m a writer, for goodness sake!
She draped my soaked coat over her arm, I could see the diamond sparkle of water droplets all over her dressing gown.
“I am so sorry, I think I have made you rather wet!” I remarked.
“That makes two of us, then, but don’t worry, I am a big girl.” It was more the way she said it, than what she said. Her warm huskiness and disarming smile would have been enough, but her eyes had a twinkle that suggested more, so much more.
“Do come into the lounge, sit by the log fire and get comfortable, I have made hot chocolate, would you like that or perhaps something alcoholic, to stimulate you?”
“No, hot chocolate will be just fine, I am already stimulated.” Damn! Did I really say that? I thought.
She smiled to herself and left to get the drink.
I pulled the plastic wrapper off the new book, Counterpoint, that I had brought her and threw the wrapping on the fire. I idly looked over the cover, checking for the billionth time for any errors, or improvements that I might make for the next novel. It came to rest on my lap.
A few moments later, she brought me the drink and placed it on a side table next to the cosy chintz sofa.
Her eyes switched to my lap and opened wide with delight. A child with the toy of her dreams, sprang to mind.
There was no stopping her now, she grabbed it and gasped with joy.
“It is so red and hard and smooth. It’s so much bigger than I expected, so thick!” She muttered to herself as she ran her sensual fingers along its length and over its surface.
“I have longed for this,” she continued to murmur.
“Please forgive me; I have waited for it for so long, I just cannot hold back any longer, I want to start now!”
She snuggled up beside me and reverently examined it. As her anticipation built up and overwhelmed her, she laid back in the traditional position.
I was amazed at the concentration on her beautiful face. As the action unfolded, she became more animated and excited, she squirmed involuntarily with pleasure, and her facial expression told it all. Occasionally, she gasped, sometimes she cried out, she was in a world of her own.
“Oh! John, I can’t get enough of this, I never want it to stop.”
This was going to be taken slowly, savoured to the last. It was going to be an all-nighter!
I was wrong, she had an insatiable appetite. I could not believe her stamina. After two hours without a break, she rolled over on her stomach and with her back arched and tense, continued. I was wrong, because she continued all night and till mid-day the next day.
“What an ending,” she gasped, “now I want more. No one has given me so much pleasure for so long, I just cannot wait for the next time.”
I smiled, we were exhausted, we fell into a deep sleep, in each other’s arms.
So, dear reader, this bit of fun was rattled out for your amusement. If you desire the sort of pleasure Cali has just experienced, just go for it, read Counterpoint, it is free if you contact me direct, or on Smashwords at the moment,(what have you got to lose?) or for sale on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Counterpoint-Ma...
I had a phone call from a girl, Cali Smith, she called herself. She wanted a copy of my new book, Counterpoint. She lived some distance from me, but she said she wanted it straight away. She said she lived alone and I could crash at hers, if I came straight away.
I was not going to disappoint this girl, her sweet pleading voice reached deep into my heart. I know what it is like to be alone and desperate for the carnal pleasures of a good thriller.
My voice sounded reluctant over the phone, I agreed to come, but I did not want to appear, easy. I did not know this girl, or what I was about to get into.
I left my mansion, just after 9pm, grateful for the warmth of my lined, navy blue, Burberry raincoat and homburg hat, as the torrential rain and storm force wind lashed and pushed me to my silver Jaguar XJR, gleaming in the beam of security lights. As the weightless door swung open, I quickly fell inside, greeted by the sumptuous smell of newness and leather. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree and I waited a moment for the system to stabilise. The car gave a brief, almost imperceptible shudder as it started, the tachometer was the only clue that the engine was running. I set off to keep my mysterious appointment.
I hope this girl is worth it!
A million thoughts ran through my mind, as I raced through the sleeping villages and desolate country lanes, in a vicious hiss of swirling spray. This was a bizarre situation; all this way, all this trouble for a book. I knew nothing about the girl, apart from the fact she claimed to live alone. She sounded cute and very quick witted over the phone, still, you cannot judge a person by voice and wit alone. There are millions of new books out there, why choose Counterpoint, why did she want me to deliver it in person? I was starting to worry now! She could be a stalker, this being her ploy to lure me into her clutches. She might have researched my bio’s on book web sites. Perhaps she thought of me as Max Fortune, the ingenious and likeable hero in my three books. Perhaps she saw herself as Carla Day, the stunningly attractive, kick ass bitch, his partner and lover. Hell, if she acts like Carla…
Cali’s small cottage was now in view. Through the swish, swish of the windscreen wipers I could see it, set back from the road, a narrow gravel drive down one side. It was a chocolate box picture, cottage. Red brick walls, slate roof, plants around porch and windows, probably English Roses and climbers. The hall, lounge and an upstairs room had lights on. The heavy curtains were drawn, so I could not see anyone inside. I decided to pull in on the verge outside and sneak in to see what was waiting for me. Max would do just that, he would not risk Cali hearing the crunch of the gravel as the car entered the drive. He would check things out before committing. As Carla always said, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” That was good advice!
The rain decided to come down in sheets, blown by the strong gusts. It even threatened to tear my hat off, if that happened, it would be lost in the inky black night. I held it down and crept across the squelching lawn in my black, polished leather shoes made by Jones.
As Max or Carla would do, I looked for security detectors and possibly CCTV. They would also use their phone camera to check for infrared beams, but I was not that paranoid. There was just the usual security light over the porch. I approached the porch along the front wall, effectively behind the PIR detector. I slipped a piece of paper from my pocket over the detector and let it stick on with the wet. I had disarmed the PIR detector, so I could walk freely about, outside.
There was no one in the hall, but I could hear soft, romantic music, faintly playing. Lonely people prefer music, to the television, for company, if they are roaming around the house.
I tried the downstairs window. The bushes prevented me getting too close, but I could see just the back of a girl in her mid-twenties, moving around. Mid-twenties, Carla is that age! I waited, Cali did not turn and face me, but there was no one with her.
I decided it was safe to meet her.
I removed the paper from the PIR, and went back to the car. I parked in the drive and walked along the path to the porch. The security lights came on as I approached.
Cali was obviously alert; she lit the hall and opened the door, as I got to it.
Wow! She was stunning! A 5 foot 5 inch tall, slim blond, dressed in a soft looking, cuddly pink dressing gown. Her hair was up in a ponytail that swished and flicked provocatively as she moved her head. Her face was intense and expressive as she went through the emotions of surprise at seeing me, joy that I had arrived at last, and expectation of what was to come. I could see in her laser blue eyes that she had examined me, analysed me and approved of me, all in a millisecond. The eyes had missed nothing.
With a noticeable softening of her face, in acceptance of me, the warmth of her smile made me feel weak inside. I could not stop thinking about the flow of emotions she was emitting. I was so absorbed that I stood there like a dumbstruck teenager. That did not escape her, either.
Hi John, she said in a gentle, slightly husky voice, thank you so much for coming over. She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hall. Oh! You’re soaked, you poor thing. Let me get these wet things off you. She shut the door and proceeded to remove my hat and raincoat. I remained standing on the coconut door mat, not wanting to drip over her highly polished wood strip flooring. This was the real thing; she was not a veneered ply kind of girl!
A synapse fired in my brain, as I struggled to break out of the spell she had placed on me. My heart rate was about 160 and my nostrils were flaring as I was starting to pant, through shortage of breath
“Hello Cali, I am delighted to meet you, so nice to put a face to the voice, don’t you think.” I blurted like a star struck idiot, there must be a better line than that, I’m a writer, for goodness sake!
She draped my soaked coat over her arm, I could see the diamond sparkle of water droplets all over her dressing gown.
“I am so sorry, I think I have made you rather wet!” I remarked.
“That makes two of us, then, but don’t worry, I am a big girl.” It was more the way she said it, than what she said. Her warm huskiness and disarming smile would have been enough, but her eyes had a twinkle that suggested more, so much more.
“Do come into the lounge, sit by the log fire and get comfortable, I have made hot chocolate, would you like that or perhaps something alcoholic, to stimulate you?”
“No, hot chocolate will be just fine, I am already stimulated.” Damn! Did I really say that? I thought.
She smiled to herself and left to get the drink.
I pulled the plastic wrapper off the new book, Counterpoint, that I had brought her and threw the wrapping on the fire. I idly looked over the cover, checking for the billionth time for any errors, or improvements that I might make for the next novel. It came to rest on my lap.
A few moments later, she brought me the drink and placed it on a side table next to the cosy chintz sofa.
Her eyes switched to my lap and opened wide with delight. A child with the toy of her dreams, sprang to mind.
There was no stopping her now, she grabbed it and gasped with joy.
“It is so red and hard and smooth. It’s so much bigger than I expected, so thick!” She muttered to herself as she ran her sensual fingers along its length and over its surface.
“I have longed for this,” she continued to murmur.
“Please forgive me; I have waited for it for so long, I just cannot hold back any longer, I want to start now!”
She snuggled up beside me and reverently examined it. As her anticipation built up and overwhelmed her, she laid back in the traditional position.
I was amazed at the concentration on her beautiful face. As the action unfolded, she became more animated and excited, she squirmed involuntarily with pleasure, and her facial expression told it all. Occasionally, she gasped, sometimes she cried out, she was in a world of her own.
“Oh! John, I can’t get enough of this, I never want it to stop.”
This was going to be taken slowly, savoured to the last. It was going to be an all-nighter!
I was wrong, she had an insatiable appetite. I could not believe her stamina. After two hours without a break, she rolled over on her stomach and with her back arched and tense, continued. I was wrong, because she continued all night and till mid-day the next day.
“What an ending,” she gasped, “now I want more. No one has given me so much pleasure for so long, I just cannot wait for the next time.”
I smiled, we were exhausted, we fell into a deep sleep, in each other’s arms.
So, dear reader, this bit of fun was rattled out for your amusement. If you desire the sort of pleasure Cali has just experienced, just go for it, read Counterpoint, it is free if you contact me direct, or on Smashwords at the moment,(what have you got to lose?) or for sale on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Counterpoint-Ma...
Please post a review of my new book: "The Caleb Years."
Thank you, David Ingerson
www.thecalebyears.com