Crush 20

Have you ever had a secret crush that you have kept, quiet but cherished, in one of those little compartments at the back of your brain? Not a model, or a movie-star. Someone real. They don't have model looks, or a perfect figure. But they have something extraordinary about them that is mesmerically attractive to you and you wonder whether other people see it too. Someone you could never tell anybody about. Someone you know.

Maybe it's just me. But I'm going to go out on a limb here and bet that you do too. And if you don't then, well, you should really try to find someone. You'll be amazed at all the little things you'll do for that secret someone. You'll take their side in every argument. You'll summon up your biggest smiles and your funniest jokes. You'll always make sure their favourite flavour is left in the packet.

And all the reward you hope for in return is a smile, maybe just a little bigger than everybody else got. Eye contact that lingers a moment longer than necessary. A trailing scent to inhale and remember. And each of those will be a little secret triumph that will make your eyes glint a little brighter and steps lift a little lighter as you smile your secret little smile to yourself.

Well, ok, if you are like me then that's not exactly all you hope for, down there in the below-stairs of your mind. Let's be honest here, there is sexual chemistry at play. You don't just admire this person, you want them too. And those little smiles, the look in their eye, the way they come close... they know. Surely they know? And they play along a little. Don't they? It takes two ingredients to make a chemical reaction after all.

So at some point you will definitely have asked yourself this; if by some strange contrivance the opportunity should ever arise, would you?

Well I don't know you or your secret crush's circumstances, so I can't answer that for you. Life's a complicated business after all. But let me tell you my story and maybe that can help you to decide one way or the other.

Her name is Hannah. She is married to a friend that I've known since school. When we were younger we would go to the pub in a big group and she would be there, always drinking white wine (medium dry) and laughing loudly. Later on it would be barbecues or dinner parties (in my mind, always with her hair tied up and wearing an elegant summer dress). Eventually our social lives slowed down; Hannah and Rob got married, others started families. I spent four tempestuous years with a crazy Irish girl before coming to my senses, but have a beautiful boy to show for my trouble. We would all still see each other, wives, kids and all, once in awhile. But more often than not I would see Hannah when we men gathered at their place to watch football, or to set off for a night of drinking and bad jokes.

Hannah is about two inches shorter than me in her heels, raven haired and has that natural, olive skin that suggests mediterranean ancestry. Over the years her figure has filled out a little, putting a little extra curve on the hips and just a hint of tummy, but without ever losing the grace and proportions that hooked my gaze all those years before. Her eyes are dark and large. Her lips, naturally plump and expressive (they quiver slightly just before she laughs). I could watch them for hours and occasionally I've suspected that she's caught me doing just that when they have suddenly gone to a little half-smile and I've looked up to see her eyes on me.

I'd always felt there was a little frisson between us. An sort of unspoken, mutual acknowledgement that said 'we both know there's a bit of chemistry going on here and we like each other for it'. An exchange of smiles would be like a little doffing of the cap between members of a secret society. But then that's the problem with 'unspoken', you are never absolutely certain whether it's all just a figment of your imagination after all. Unless something happens to break the wall of silence, that is; and that's what happened last autumn.

It started with a text message from Hannah's husband. It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was at work.

"Soz mate, can I ask a favour? You free this evening to help H fix a spreadsheet? I'm away and she is going nuts, Will owe you big time!!"

"What sort of problem is it? Can have a try but I'm no expert."

Just because I work in an office for a living, he often seemed to be under the illusion that I could solve all and any problems requiring the use of a mouse.

"Problem is she needs today and blaming me. Just give her 1 hour, do whatever she wants and will buy you many beers for trouble. Plz plz plz!!"

This was not what I'd had in mind for my Tuesday evening, but he is a mate and in the back of my mind I was also half-thinking 'it's for her'. Not in expectation of anything except maybe a little satisfying flirting. I can't really be sure which argument won the day, but I replied in the affirmative.

"OK. Many better mean more than 2. Tell her I'll be there after work at 6."

As the time approached for me to set off, I found myself checking my reflection, even admonishing myself over the state of my work shirt that I'd put on that morning (not my finest ironing). It was too late to change it now though. Anyway, what I was even thinking about it for? I knew perfectly well that nothing was actually going to happen. So I settled for tucking the shirt in straight and quickly pushing some hair back into place using the mirror in the office lift.

I arrived at Hannah's apartment just about quarter past 6. Childless, they had opted to stay trendy and central, while the rest of us had migrated to the practical suburbs. Their apartment was an airy, office conversion with views over the canalside and the industrial fringe, to the tree-tops and slate roofs beyond.

"You're late!"

I was taken aback by her abrupt greeting as she opened the apartment door. I must have looked it too as she quickly softened the contours of her face and opened up wider.

"Sorry. It's been a shit day, but that's not your fault. Come in."

Any lingering thoughts of cosy smiles and innuendo laced chit-chat died pretty quick. I really was here to sort out a broken spreadsheet. Fortunately, the problem was one that I'd come across before at work and in five minutes I had everything back up and running as it should be.

Hannah had just returned to the living room, with a mug of coffee as I gave her the good news. She sat next to me on the sofa, where I had her laptop perched on my knee, so I could show her what I had done. As she leaned in close to see the screen I could smell the delicate hues of her perfume. She was wearing a floral patterned dress with short sleeves, cut low enough at the front for me to glance over and down to the top of her breasts. I was so close that I could see the tiny little bumps on her skin and watch the slight swell as she breathed in and out. I caught myself in the act and tried to focus back to the finer points of Microsoft Excel.

"You are a life-saver" she said. "I've had such a shitty day, but you may just have saved it. Thank you. Perhaps I can get you to sort all my problems out for me."

She leaned right next to me, half turning where she sat, to give me a gentle hug, her hands on my shoulders and her cheek just brushing mine. As she leaned back, she gave me a big warm smile. Like a boxer's sequence, the rapid combination of complement, touching and that beaming smile caught me off guard and I was really self-conscious about how effortlessly she got me inside. When I replied, the words became unsteady somewhere between my brain and my mouth and their clunkiness only added to my awkwardness.

"Well, I aim to please. Rob did I should.. I mean, said I should... do whatever you wanted. So, you know, if there is anything I can do then you just have to ask."

Hannah was still sat close on the sofa, but now she leaned back, affecting a look of indignation.

"Oh, and I thought you'd come to help me. I didn't realise you were only here as a favour for him."

I knew she was teasing, but I wanted her to think highly of me and the playful accusation still stung.

"He thinks I'm here as a favour to him in return for beer..."

"Oh really..?" she interjected.

".. but actually, I would come anyway to help you. And do anything that you wanted."

That last bit was too much, I knew as soon as it came out that it was too obvious. I'd tried to add a little sauce of flirtation, but the way I said those last words, I'd accidently tipped the whole bottle out. I would just have to swallow my embarrassment and pretend like it was nothing.

"Well now, there's an offer!" Her lips quivered a little at the side, in a way that I knew from watching a hundred times, meant that she was amused. I hadn't offended her, thankfully.

"But, you know, I don't think you'd find that a lot of fun. I'd have you ironing all night."

She patted my knee playfully and stood up. Whatever awkwardness my embarrassment had brought up between us was gone, everything was cool again.

"Would you like some more coffee?" she asked.

"No, if you've got everything you need then I'll be off. Thanks."

"Are you sure. You are welcome to stay a little longer."

"I should probably get back. I really do have a night of ironing to get on with."

I picked up my coat and Hannah opened the apartment door for me. I stepped out into the hall and turned to say goodbye. As I faced her, she leaned her head against the door frame and there was the strangest, slightly distant, look on her face, that made me hesitate.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Like I said, shitty day."

But there was something in the quiet way she spoke, so unlike her normal poise and confidence. I didn't know what to say and just stood there, trying to convey concern with my eyes, as my mouth parted in silence.

She fixed me with her beautiful eyes and reached out a hand to brush something off my jacket breast.

"When you said that you'd do anything I wanted, you meant that; didn't you?"

What should I do? It was true, that's why it had been so awkward to say it. But she'd seen right through me. My mouth was dry and I was breathing faster than I should. I wasn't quite sure what would come out of my mouth in reply, not for a few seconds anyway.

"Yes. I meant it."

"But I've had a really bad day and I would be evil." She affected a slightly girlish tone of voice that lent the words a seductive edge.

Was I was mistaken, or was she leading up to something? My heart began to beat noticeably faster.

"You can take it out on me if that's what you want."

Had I really just said that? Here I was, practically offering myself to this woman. But, not just any woman, it was to her, and she had always been a special case. My head was starting to scramble. But I really, mostly, hoped this was going to go further.

"There would be terms" she said looking serious "and you would have to agree to all of them. And if you don't, then say so and we'll pretend this never happened, ok?"

"Ok."

"First, you must agree to do whatever I say and only what I say, without hesitation or question. No matter what."

I didn't quite understand why exactly, but the idea of doing this woman's bidding was turning me on a little.

"Ok, agreed."

"Second, your enjoyment is of no concern, only my pleasure matters."

A little part of me wanted to object to that one as unfair, but I didn't stop long to consider it. I was on the point of getting intimate with a woman I had desired for years. I was happy to take a backseat if that's what it would take.

"I accept."

"If you break the rules, I may punish you. If you displease me, I may punish you. If I just feel like it, I may punish you."

My cock was starting to swell and my head was spinning a little. I had no idea what rabbit hole I was jumping in to, but I knew I absolutely had to jump.

"You may."

She was still stood in the doorway, looking at me, her head cocked slightly to one side. She was smiling slightly and she looked pleased. And that made me happy.

After a moment, she turned, without a word and walked back into the apartment. She moved so easily that she seemed almost to float, effortlessly through the air; as though the swaying of her hips was just for the sheer beauty of it, unrelated to progress she made across the floor. The apartment door opened directly onto the open plan living space and from the doorway I watched her serene movement all the way to the sofa, where she sat down, her back towards me.

I wasn't sure what to do. Should I follow, should I say something? I was just standing in the open doorway like an idiot. I didn't want to make a wrong move now and break the spell that she was weaving. Standing here all day wasn't getting me anywhere though. I came in, shut the door behind me, hung up my coat and strode over towards the sofa. I was breathing quickly, struggling to catch my breath with nervous excitement and hoped that my laboured breath wasn't audible. As I got close, she spoke, this time sternly.

"Did I tell you to come in?"

"Er, sorry, no."

I was stopped about three feet short of the sofa where she sat. She didn't look round, but continued to address me firmly in this new voice.

"What was the first thing you promised to do?" She stressed the 'first' like an exasperated teacher.

"To do whatever you say..."

"And only what I say."

"I'm sorry, I won't do that again."

"No you won't. And nor will you speak again unless it's to answer a question. Come kneel in front of me."

I walked around in front of her and knelt. I didn't dare look directly into her face, but as I got down I glanced surreptitiously and there was a new look to her that I had never seen before: stern, content, sexy. I know that sounds contradictory, but she looked angry and yet at peace. The lines on her face smoothed out. The muscles relaxed. Maybe I was reading in too much from the context, but whatever the look was, it was damned attractive.

I knelt before her, head down, my eyes on her feet, delicately wrapped in sandal straps, nails painted red. Then she slapped me across my cheek, hard; enough to spin my face to the side and leave a stinging sensation. I quickly went back to staring at her toes. I hadn't expected that, this game was clearly going to be played harder than I thought. What the fuck was I getting into here? I was tempted to stand up and say 'come on now that's too much.' But I realised that it had also felt good. It hurt a little, but not too much. It was a little bit humiliating too. My cock twitched harder, looking for room to stand-up. I half hoped she would do it again. And that thought came as a real surprise.

"I had to punish you because you broke the rules. They are your promises and you should be grateful that I care enough to enforce them. Now, show me your gratitude by kissing my feet."

I felt a bit unsure of myself. I wasn't quite sure how to play this game, but I also felt like I wanted to play it. Not just because of how much I desired Hannah, but because the idea of serving her was unexpectedly revealing itself to be exciting in its own right. I bent low, and with as much reverence as I could silently convey, planted a series of tender kisses on her delicate toes. And I realised that this was the first time I had kissed anything other than her cheek.

"Good. Now there's a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge. Pour some. It's time for me to unwind."

Hannah stretched herself out languorously on the sofa while I set off for the kitchen area, separated from the lounge by a marble-topped breakfast bar. I found the wine easily but didn't know where the bottle-opener was. I experienced a slight panic. Normally I would just have asked, but that didn't feel like an option. I opened drawers hoping to get lucky. I was like a kid, afraid to ask, when a grown-up would just have owned it. Luckily I found one fairly quickly and opened the bottle with a pop that echoed around the room. I decided to pick out just one glass; I was pretty sure I wasn't meant to be included in this. As I poured I discovered that my hands were shaking. I took a couple of deep breaths as discreetly as I could and took the wine over to where Hannah was waiting in the lounge.

Hannah stuck out a hand for the glass, without even turning to look at me.

"Stand in front of me and take off your clothes. I want to see you naked.'

I moved round to stand about four feet in front of the sofa where she was now stretched out, holding her glass and taking occasional sips.

I began by loosening the knot on my tie, then undoing it and letting it drop to the floor by my side. Then I started to unbutton my shirt.

"Slowly. I've waited a long time for this."

So, she had been harbouring some sort of feelings for me too! That sent a warm feeling right through me.

My body is no model's, but I cycle and keep reasonably fit for a desk-jockey and I was carrying only a little bit of excess weight around the middle. It wasn't anything to be embarrassed about for a man of my age, but nor was it the sort of body you'd normally want to make a show of.

When I dropped my shirt to the floor, I was naked from the waist up. But then I realised I needed to get my shoes off. There was going to be nothing sexy about the getting down and untying my laces. I got my shoes and then socks off as quickly as I could and stood back up.

But now it was trousers time. And when they came off I would be exposing my stiff cock, which was already poking out of the top of my boxers. I started to blush. I knew that sooner or later getting naked would be part of the deal, but I had never been stripped down on show like this before.

"Slow. Slow now." Hannah instructed.

I unzipped, with as much control as my shaking hands could muster, until finally I was undone and I could let my trousers fall to the floor. I kicked each foot out in turn and then pushed the crumpled remains over to join the others in the heap to my side. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Hannah was looking straight at me, feet up on the sofa, knees bent and leaning casually against one of the arm rests at the end. She took a sip of wine.

I knew the boxers were next. They weren't leaving much covered anyway. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and slowly inched them down until my arms were fully extended. As I did so I was conscious that in the process I was gradually sliding them down the front of my cock, exposing my erection bit by bit to her gaze. There was no doubt that was where she was looking. When my arms were at full reach I bent to remove them all together and toss them over to join the rest of of my clothes on the floor.

Then I was stood, naked, dick hard. I didn't know where to put my hands, and suddenly being aware of my uncertainty just added to the awkwardness. I settled for clasping them loosely behind my back and looked into the distance into the kitchen, feeling the hotness of my cheeks and trying not to imagine what she was thinking of her... of me. It felt like an age before she broke the silence.

"Well, I can see that you enjoy being told what to do. We'll see if you still feel the same way by the time I'm finished. I may have a use for that cock later, I haven't decided yet."

Did that mean we might not be having sex? I was even more confused now about how this was going to play out. Maybe the teasing was just part of the game?

"It's been a long day. Go run me a bath. And make sure you use the bubble-bath in the green bottle."

I knew where the bathroom was and went off to run the bath as instructed. This wasn't where I had hoped to be going. Was I just going to run naked errands for a few hours? The bath took an age to fill, my cock deflated and I wondered what on Earth I was doing.

When I thought it was ready, I went back to the living room to find Hannah. I didn't speak, but she noticed my arrival and took the cue.