Tighter

"Not like that, wrap it around tighter."

The cable was snaking around Sarah's ankles and upwards to her thighs. She wanted it coiled around her, so she could feel the plastic gnawing at her naked skin. Somehow, she loved this. "I don't even have to be fucked up for it."

The sun was rising and it was making the room warmer, swelling the humidity up past what was already intolerable levels. Sarah's luscious white skin was coated with sweat making the plastic cable slip ever so slightly down her body. It made getting the cord tighter difficult.

"Make it tighter, so I can't move. I don't wanna be able to move."

The long night had started to make my head hurt, and I slugged back some whiskey to dull the throb in my head. It helped a little, and the trickle of alcohol back into my bloodstream brought my mind back into focus. Running the back of my palm across my forehead and wiping the sweat on to it, I held it out for Sarah. Trussed up and barely able to move, she brought herself forward and inched her tongue across my hand, her mouth greedily gathering up the perspiration. We kissed then, our mouths locked together fiercely, tongues entwined, stars in our eyes. But soon Sarah couldn't hold herself up anymore. Laying back she looked up at me, lust clouding her small face.

"You know what to do."

I met Sarah at a party, seven hours earlier. The kind where you get so drunk the wall is propping you up. I wasn't that gone though. Not yet anyway. The place, a massive split-level studio, was crammed with famous and semi-famous types, barely recognisable TV presenters, drunken newsreaders, radio broadcasters, musicians…all trying to out personality each other. Frankly, I didn't care for that. Meeting famous people can be cool, though. Especially when some are so drunk you're propping them up. Or when a certain famous person's equally famous wife has her tongue down your throat and your hand is down her pants while fifteen people look on, one of whom is not her husband because he's upstairs with his mouth around some guy's dick.

"How did I get here?"

"Who cares? have another drink."

"Seriously, how did I get here? I don't remember walking in the door."

"And you won't remember leaving either." Laughter. Above the babble of voices, Sarah's laugh rose on a pillow of wind.

I took a step forward, closer to her. Her eyes stared deep and straight into mine, dark like a pool of pythons. She stopped laughing and closed her mouth, her dark red lips jammed tight together. Sticking her bottom lip out she ran an index finger along it, and then back. For no particular reason it seemed.

"So, who do you know here?" she said finally.

"Nobody." I took a beer from her hand and tipped half the bottle down my throat.

After a few small seconds looking at/through me she spoke again.

"Looked to me like you know J's wife pretty well."

"I think I know you better than I know her."

Taking the bottle off me, Sarah laughed and said, " I'm Sarah."

I prised the bottle from her hand, "I know."

It was one of those strange things, were you meet someone you've never encountered in your life before and you already know about them.

I knew her age. 22.

Her birth date. March 6. "Actually it's the seventh but that's pretty weird." Even weirder still, it was a day before mine.

If you want to deem this as mere good guess work then that's fine, but the fact is it didn't feel like that it all. As sceptical as I am, I have to submit to this stuff coming from somewhere unconscious. Let's put it this way, with 365 days in a year the odds are quite long of guessing someone's birthday to within a day either side. Age is a little easier, but with some people it can be really hard to tell. Sarah didn't look twenty-two. She looked twenty-three.

I can't recall what we talked about, but I know we talked at length. Neither of us were so conceited as to accept or deny this bespoke so-called connection. Whether either of us wanted to believe it to be mystical or whatever I don't know. In truth, what really was at work was probably something more primal. Something like lust.

Perhaps it was lust that forced this hand, or maybe it was just pure luck. I'll never know. I guess it doesn't matter in the end. The whole thing felt like a dream, some fantasy I'd conjured up while staring dimly off into space. Yet here I was, at this party where I knew no one, with no idea how I got there, winning bizarre guessing games with someone I'd never met before but felt like I'd known all my life.

"It's too hot in here, I feel like I can't breathe."

"I know.", I said, lighting a cigarette. I offered Sarah one; she took it, lit it and inhaled in one seamless movement. I didn't even see her lighter.

Smoke curled around her long, slender fingers like rope.

The room started to fill and Sarah was pressed against me. Her breasts, small and firm, jostled against my arm. I slid my arm around her thin waist and pulled her closer to me. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. We talked some more. I t was a loose, free flowing conversation that jumped disjointedly from one sentence to the next. The kind you might have on LSD. There were moments when it felt I was tripping.

TV personalities sauntered by, and we laughed at them as they milled around trying to look important. Sarah had a line on everyone. We slugged back beers and felt drunk in the heat. Sarah's hand fell into mine and she squeezed it so hard it felt like it might drop off. Her grip was vise like.

"Tighter."

Sarah made her way through the posing crowd to get more drinks, not that I needed another. My head was starting to swim now, a combination of beer, humid, opressive heat and an ever-increasing crescendo of noise. I've often found that the volume of chatter in an average pub on a Saturday night can make my drunkeness more severe.

"Take me for a ride away from places I have known,

If I stay around I'll just remember I'm alone

There's someone in my memory making me move on,

What was grey and hazy is black and white

Now I have gone."

Minutes passed and crept into what felt like hours. I smoked cigarette after cigarette until my lungs strained for air. The heat soaked into me and the roar of conversation made my head spin. Sarah had not returned. I didn't dare move in case she came back.

The problem was, I had to get out of that room. How long had I been standing there? It felt like forever. Fuck it, I thought. She'll find me.

I stood near the entrance to the studio; a glassed in foyer lined with bamboo and bonsai. It was empty but in full view of the main room so Sarah could see me and I her.

Time was slowing down, crawling. My mind dimmed as I stood there alone, the Technicolor of the room slowly dissolving to monochrome as the realisation snuck into me that no, there was no connection. If there was I'd know instinctively where she was and why she hadn't come back. My brain was bending with the alcohol and possibilities on where Sarah had got to. I decided to look for her. A wave of nausea hit me as I stepped back into the room. I pushed through the crowds of people. J's wife, her tongue down someone else's throat, a bottom shelf rock star or two, groupies and a TV weatherman high on coke. Sarah was nowhere. It was late, I was drunk and felt ill in this heat. Drowning in sweat, I left.

The early morning air held the heat. Surveying the streets I found my direction and started to walk. I was a little unsteady, but soon found the walk sobering. The dawn chorus started.

My phone rang. I didn't even look at the screen to see who it was. I knew who it was.

"How did you know my number?"

"I don't know. I'm at home, come over."

She didn't even have to give me instructions. I knew where she was. She was just around the corner. Soon I was standing outside her house, a large grey warehouse.

There was no need to knock. I pushed the door open and walked down a hallway. I knew where she was. Another door.

The dim light of dawn was filtering through some windows high above us. In the half-light of dawn I could see Sarah sitting on the floor. The room was largely empty; a futon on the floor, a low table with a statue of Buddha in its centre. On the floor near Sarah, a bottle of Whiskey, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a large green ashtray with a half-smoked cigarette and a long length of black plastic chord, laying in a coil. Sarah had on a Chinese style dressing gown, deep red in color that matched her dark eyes and hair. In turn, it matched the carpet, which was a rich burgundy.

Sarah's eyes motioned to the statue. I took it from the table and placed it near her. I had this feeling that perhaps the Buddha wouldn't exactly approve of what was unfolding in this large, sparse room. But then again, maybe he would. I knelt behind Sarah and slipped the gown off her shoulders. It fell in a heap. Her hair was soft and as silky as the gown as I ran my fingers through it. My fingers traced an imaginary line down the nape of her neck, continuing down her spine. My lips found the soft, fleshy spot between her ear lobe and jaw. I kissed it, running my tongue down her neck to her shoulder. She sat in silence.

My hands ran lightly down her body, across her back and then up her stomach and breasts. I placed a finger in her mouth and she sucked our combined perspration from it. Turning her head, we locked lips in a hungry exchange of tongues. She pulled away abruptly and quickly swung around to face me. I cupped her tits and kissed her again, harder and deeper this time. My forefinger and thumb rubbed her nipples. They were slippery from the heat. It was exciting and electric.

We both knew what was coming next. No words were ever needed. Sarah lay back, prone on the floor. I tied the cord off at her ankles and began wending it around her legs and up her naked body. There was easily enough to wrap around her thin frame several times.

"Not like that, wrap it around tighter."

The cable was snaking around Sarah's ankles and upwards to her thighs. She wanted it coiled around her, so she could feel the plastic gnawing at her naked skin.

The sun was rising and it was making the room warmer, swelling the humidity up past what was already intolerable levels. Sarah's luscious white skin was coated with sweat making the plastic cable slip ever so slightly down her body. It made getting the cord tighter difficult.

"Make it tighter, so I can't move. I don't wanna be able to move."

The long night had started to make my head hurt, and I slugged back some whiskey to dull the throb in my head. It helped a little, and the trickle of alcohol back into my bloodstream brought my mind back into focus. Running the back of my palm across my forehead and wiping the sweat on to it, I held it out for Sarah. Trussed up and barely able to move, she brought herself forward and inched her tongue across my hand, her mouth greedily gathering up the perspiration. We kissed then, our mouths locked together fiercely, tongues entwined, stars in our eyes. But soon Sarah couldn't hold herself up anymore. Laying back she looked up at me, lust clouding her small face.

"You know what to do."

My mouth found her breasts; the cable nestled up against them pushing them higher. I licked the sweat from her tits, my tongue climbing up-across the cable which tightly bound her-to find the space where the neck meets the breastbone. A pool of perspiration had gathered there and I lapped it eagerly.

I removed my clothes. I felt good to be naked in this heat. My dick felt like fire, my balls like they were going to explode. I knelt over Sarah, my knees either side of her tits and began stroking my cock, slowly at first.

"I wish there was four of you,." she breathed.

As I found a rhythm to my stroking, I increased the tempo. It was clear that Sarah was getting impatient. Her breathing increased in sync with my own.

The orgasm rose through my body, starting at my feet. It felt like it could knock me unconcious, such was its force. Cum flew from my cock in hot, thick jets, coating Sarah's tits and neck. Blobs of spunk landed on her chin, several on her cheek. She gasped and let a long sigh escape her lips. She was shaking, like she was coming herself.

I kept coming, my dick spasming as the last of the jism spurted onto her body. I don't think I have ever, before or since, cum that much. Sarah was covered in glistening milky white semen. I began to rub it all into her skin, smearing it over her tits and stomach. There was so much that I could scoop it up in globules and spread it all over her bare pussy. As I rubbed the cum over her sex, my fingers ran down her slit-slick with juices-and probed inside. Sarah inhaled sharply as my fingers found the nub of her clit. I pressed down on it, my fingers moving back and forth across her swollen clit. Her breathing indicated the speed of my rubbing and soon-tightly bound and coated in sweat and semen-she convulsed as a tidal wave of orgasm flooded through her body.

Drops of rain started to fall against the window. Those large, heavy drops that you get in a summer Sydney downpour. The air was steaming.

I untied the cable at Sarah's ankles, loosening it so she could free herself.

She stood up and took my hand and together we walked outside into the deserted street. The drops grew fatter and fell faster, until soon we were standing in a subtropical downpour, the rain washing the drying cum from Sarah's body. Pulling her close to me and holding her tight we watched the growing storm.