Love... From Both Sides (A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy) (23 page)

This usually leads to a strange combination of sexual excitement and neurotic anxiety.

It’s one thing to see someone else’s sweaty naked body, but the prospect of them also seeing
yours
– with all its blemishes and imperfections – is somewhat disconcerting.

Luckily, sexual excitement generally wins the battle nine times out of ten, and worries about self image are lost in the ensuing tangle of body parts.

The foreplay is brief. We both want it that way.

There will (hopefully) be plenty of time for long, languid sex sessions in the future, but right now we were both in such a state of excitement that delayed gratification really wasn’t on the cards.

I climb on top, look into her deep blue eyes, plant a gentle kiss on her lips and slide slowly into her, making us both gasp.

My eyes stay locked with hers as I run a hand down that long, tanned leg, marvelling at how soft and sensual -

‘MITTENS!’

What the bloody hell is that?

‘WHERE ARE YOU, MITTENS!?’

From what seems like right outside the window, the sound of a highly upset little girl’s voice breaks the mood like a badly thrown sledgehammer through a sheet of glass.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ I exclaim.

‘Oh Christ… it’s the girl in the block across the way,’ Laura says. ‘She’s got a cat. The bloody thing’s always going missing.’

For a few moments we stop, listening out for more from beyond the curtains.

When there isn’t I look back into Laura’s eyes and start to move my hips forward again, watching her reaction as I –

‘MITTENS!’

Bollocks.

‘COME HOME MITTENS!’

Now I’m really getting put off my stroke.

I stop again… and we both wait once more for another outburst.

This time a good couple of minutes go by.

‘You think she’s given up?’ I ask.

‘Yeah. She doesn’t normally do it for long.’

‘Okay.’

I kiss Laura and again start to move my hips back and forth.

I expect to be interrupted at first, but by the time I’ve worked up a bit of a rhythm, I’ve forgotten about Mittens and have my mind firmly back on the job.

It’s not long before Laura starts to moan loudly.

She’s starting to build to a climax and I increase my speed, her moans becoming gasps with each thrust.

We’re moving together now, faster and faster… the orgasm getting closer as our bodies work in harmony and our –

‘MITTENS!’

Laura starts laughing – partly at the timing, partly at the look of angry frustration on my red, sweaty face.

‘Astrid?’ a man’s voice says. ‘Will you stop calling that stupid cat? It’ll come home when it wants to.’

Judging from how annoying ‘Astrid’ is, I’d wager Mittens has done a runner in an attempt to avoid going deaf, and won’t be back any time soon.

‘But daddy! He might have been run over!’

‘I doubt it. Inside with you, I’m sure it’ll be back soon.’

I would have genuinely liked this bloke for dragging his noisy daughter inside, were it not for the fact the idiot had called her Astrid.

The moment somewhat lost, I climb off Laura and lie next her while her giggles gradually dissipate.

‘Sorry about that,’ she says, draping one leg over my body. ‘The flats are close together round here. You get to hear a lot.’

‘No worries. Let’s just hope nobody heard
us
.’

‘I was being as quiet as possible. It wasn’t easy though… you know what you’re doing, Newman.’

Excellent.

‘In fact, I feel like I should step up my own game.’

For once, I’m glad that Laura is a competitive little soul, as she now slides down my body and starts to give me the single best blow job I’ve had in years.

I’m in absolute heaven.

Before long I can feel my climax building again. I’m caught in a wave of total pleasure as she licks me with her tongue.

This is simply the best feeling I’ve had in months and I never want it to –

‘MITTENS!’

We ended up watching the rest of
Slumdog
Millionaire on Laura’s portable TV, figuring that Astrid would eventually go to bed and we’d be left in peace.

The credits rolled on the movie at about eleven, and Laura and I finally got to have some uninterrupted fun.

I just about managed to put Astrid and Mittens out of my head, but I have to confess I didn’t relax entirely until the deed was properly done and Laura was wrapped in post-coital bliss in my arms.

I ended up staying the night and was late for work the next day.

There’s nothing quite like waking up with a warm, soft female body next to you to put a smile on your face on a Monday morning.

In the end it was fantastic night, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look at a pair of children’s gloves in the same way again…

Laura’s Diary

Monday, September 19th

Dear Mum,

It’s at times like this I really miss your advice.

Something’s happened that has set my head spinning faster than a washing machine on ‘heavy soiled’.

I’ll try to explain. Maybe writing it down will clear my head and help me come to some kind of decision.

Last time I spoke to you, I was telling you about my first time with Jamie.

Despite the next door neighbour’s insistent attempts at ruining the moment, Jamie and I had sex for the first time - and it was quite exceptional.

There’s nothing like a hot, sweaty summer’s evening to kick start your libido… even if it does mean being part of one small girl’s hunt for her missing cat.

Having got past the semi-awkward first time together, Jamie and I embarked on what could only be described as a rampant sex-a-thon. Over the course of the next week we rocked the Kasbah every night.

Sometimes twice.

By the end of seven days I was so knackered from trying to combine a newly discovered sex life with work I could barely keep my eyes open.

I always tend to get emotional when I’ve not had much sleep, so I’m afraid I let the side down a bit last Wednesday when I burst into tears in front of Jamie as we lay together in his bed.

‘Are you alright?’ he said in a panicked voice. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong did I?’

‘No,’ I assured him as I wiped tears from my face. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. Today is my mum’s birthday.’

‘
Aaah
.’ He didn’t really have anything else to say, bless him.

Jamie already knew that I’d lost you Mum, but we’d never gone into much detail. Things were different now though, so I spent a few minutes explaining what had happened.

‘A friend of mine died of cancer about three years ago,’ he said when I told him what had taken you away. ‘I know it’s nothing like what you’ve had to go through, but it was horrible.’

He planted a soft, gentle kiss on my forehead. This made me cry again – for somewhat different reasons.

‘What was she like?’ he asked, wrapping his arms around me. I’d never felt so safe.

I told him all about you…

The big things and the little things:

How you brought me up on your own after dad left us, working yourself into the ground so I could go to college and university.

How you loved chocolate, eating and cooking with it, and the hours we’d spend in the kitchen when I was a little girl, rustling up all sorts of sugary treats… which led to three fillings in my twenties.

I even told him about my twenty first birthday, when you surprised me with the trip to
Rome
.

‘Why
Rome
?’ Jamie asked.

‘I’ve always wanted to go there, ever since I saw Roman Holiday. Audrey Hepburn was my idol when I was a girl. It’s a truly beautiful place. Mum started to get sick just after the trip, so it was the last time I got to spend quality time with her. It was the happiest weekend of my life.’

‘That’s lovely,’ Jamie said. ‘Nice that you have a memory of her like that.’

I’m going to stop writing about this. It’s getting difficult because I’m having trouble seeing through the tears.

Moving on then:

Suffice to say, things were going very well with Jamie at this point.

Then my bloody ex-boyfriend Mike comes along and throws a gigantic spanner in the works.

I hadn’t seen him for over a year and a half, and was at the point where the break-up was a distant memory, rather than the all consuming agony I’d carried around with me for months.

It was last Friday when Mike Adams walked back into my life and turned it upside down.

Again
.

It was lunch time and I was stood behind the counter enjoying a lull in foot traffic. I’ll never complain about having lots of people in the shop parting with their hard-earned, but it’s nice to have a break now and again when you’ve been on your feet for five solid hours.

Sipping a cup of coffee and munching on a prawn mayo sandwich from Marks & Spencer, I was neatly ensconced in a pleasant daydream about what filthy things I intended to do to Jamie that evening. It involved the French maid’s outfit that had been hidden at the back of the wardrobe for four years, and the tube of play lube stuck in the front pocket.

The speculative smile dropped off my face when I looked over to the entrance to see Mike standing there looking tanned and annoyingly healthy.

A jolt went through my whole body.

‘Hi
sugerbear
,’ he said and walked towards me.

My stomach rolled.

The last time I heard him call me that was the night he dumped me.

The night he sat on my bed, the sheets crumpled from the desperate sex I’d just had with him, and told me all about Le-Anne, the girl who worked with him at the gym.

‘We’ve done nothing together yet,’ he’d assured me, as if that would make it any better. ‘But we really like each other. I don’t know what it is about her. We just seem to get on so well.’