Marley was dead, well he wasn't dead, but he was dead to me. His name wasn't even Marley or indeed Jacob but it doesn't quite fit the narrative.
Anyway it came as no surprise when his wife left him and his boys toys, the yacht and the motorbike and the motorcycle club, the Flaccid Bishops or whatever they were called, to come back home for Xmas.
Landing about 60 miles from home and walking through customs she was surprised to see her sister so stoney faced, barely cracking a smile. However, the news that their mother had been hospitalised was a setback. They drove back and little sister filled her in on the prognosis which meant that the old girl would probably be in for a month or more, then would need rehab at home, which meant that her daughter's month at home would probably stretch into February.
By the time they reached the quaint terraced house near the sea it was too late for hospital visiting. However, despite the jet lag it certainly wasn't too late to get fucked.
She waved goodbye to sis and the door was barely shut and the security chain on when she picked up the handset of the landline and dialled the number she knew off by heart. As it rang through she cleared her throat and immediately regretted it as her throaty option had now gone. Anyway she needed him to know it was her.
He picked up on the third ring and she tried her most seductive voice. "Well hello there."
She was kind of relieved when he laughed in immediate recognition. She hadn't told him when she would be back, it was better, well safer that way, so that the little prick back home would be left completely in the dark.
The next five minutes of the call were just a repeat of the last time and every other time she had come home: how was the flight? when did you get back? how was the traffic on the motorway? who picked you up? how long are you back for? And finally "what time can you be here?" with the added caveat of "you'd better pick up some pinot grigio because I've got no white wine in."
The penultimate one was fairly redundant as she briefly filled him in about her mother's operation and given she had the house to herself, perhaps he should come round to hers instead, with the retort of "don't forget the pinot and whatever you want. l'm going in the shower, I'll leave the key on a string inside the letterbox, just come straight up, and do not forget to bring the wine."
He sniggered and his balls tingled at the thought of being deep inside her in short order. He smiled to himself as she finished the sentence in a rather dominant tone. Even though they had been friends-with-benefits for more than a decade, it was only in the last few years that she had told him about her dominant side which had blossomed after getting in touch with a long standing admirer who both adored and worshipped her. He summised that probably wasn't difficult for a submissive man to do, she was after all, absolutely gorgeous; very pretty but in a self deprecating way, with an infectious laugh, which was sometimes a giggle, sometimes downright filthy and raucous, but delivered with near closed eyes, which made them look even more oriental than they were, but which most men, and it must be said, many many women found absolutely captivating. The nickname 'slanty eyes' which her best friend had given her when they were in infant school might be decidedly non PC these days but she revelled in it, even more so since she had gone for a corkscrew hairstyle and her submissive admirer had during a video call, picked up the guitar and serenaded her with the David Bowie lyric "screwed up eyes and screwed down hairdo, like some cat from Japan."
Back at home from home, she had put the phone down and gotten the string from the telephone table, attaching the key to it and tied it to the eyelet above the letterbox, remembering to remove the security chain before she lugged her case and carry-on upstairs to her attic bedroom, pausing outside the bathroom and switching on the shower to allow the combi boiler to heat the water to above the lukewarm temperature her mother always left it on.
Once in her room she quickly looked round, fondly noting it had been thoroughly cleaned and the winter quilt laid out.
She stripped and left her travel clothes in a heap and ran down the stairs naked into the steamy bathroom and into the shower. She couldn't spend too long in there but quickly soaped up, nobody wanted to lick a sweaty cunt after all, and allowed the hot water to relax her tired muscles. Her hair wasn't too bad and could wait until morning and it shouldn't take her too long to freshen up her make up, not that she piled it on anyway.
No sooner had she dried off and freshened her lip gloss than she heard the rusty garden gate creak and quickly delved in her underwear drawer. She had left a brand new pair of black lace top holdups which her slave had sent her in the bottom of the drawer, broke the seal and paying attention to her red painted toenails to ensure she didn't ladder them slipped them on, pausing briefly to admire herself in the full length mirror, as she heard the key turn in the front door lock.
She opened the cupboard behind the mirror and selected her four inch red stilettos, slipping her feet into them as the bottom step of the staircase creaked, as it always did. She squirted one one short spray of her favourite perfume and sat on the bed. She crossed her legs waiting for him to step into the dimly lit room.
