Alexandra

On Friday I arrived about fifteen minutes early and stood on the street anxiously looking up and down, unsure as to which direction she'd come from. Under the clock outside Easons bookshop on O'Connell Street is a popular place to arrange to meet. Firstly it is a well known landmark. Secondly it is in a fairly busy and public place. And thirdly from the point of view of anyone waiting there are a number of buses that stop there, so you can pretend that people are not looking at you wondering if you have been stood up, and instead convince yourself that they think that you are just waiting for a bus.

Then just as the clock above me began to chime the half hour I saw her walking up from the direction of Abbey St. My heart stopped.

She was wearing a blue cardigan with a matching cotton top and long, flowing skirt, with sandals on her feet. Her long black hair and skirt were blowing in the breeze and she smiled as she saw me. I fell in love with her again. She was just so beautiful it took my breath away. And my heart started pounding in my chest.

"Hi," I said, restraining myself from grabbing her and hugging her off her feet. "How are you?"

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm fine." She shrugged, "A bit tired from work, but you don't want me to go into that."

I wanted her to go into everything. I wanted to know how she spent every minute of every day of her life. But I couldn't tell her that. So instead I just nodded and smiled.

"So," I gestured with my arm and started to walk towards O'Connell Bridge. She walked beside me. "There's a French film on in the Screen cinema that I thought you might like to see." I probably knew the name of it at the time, but I can't remember what it was now.

She nodded, "That sounds nice."

"Do you mind," I slipped my hand into hers.

"No," she smiled and squeezed it gently.

My heart leapt and my grin became ten feet wide.

"So you had a bad day in work then," I said.

"Yes," she sighed. "My boss gave me this load of stuff the other day, that he said he didn't want until next week. Then this afternoon he comes around looking for it. And got really annoyed when I didn't have it done." She stopped herself and smiled at me, "But then this is our first date, you don't want me bitching about work."

I just wanted to hear her speak, I didn't care what she talked about. "Not really," I agreed.

It was a bit early for the film so we went into a pub for a drink first. I had a vodka, as drinking a pint before going to a film usually spoils the second half as by that time I'm usually dying to go to the toilet. She had a rum and coke. We sat by a window and were bathed with late evening light filtered through the frosted glass. The sounds of the city traffic could be faintly heard from the outside.

We talked about this and that for a few minutes. I was half turned towards her with my arm on the back of the seat. She sat close to me with her legs crossed and her hands hooked over her knee. As we talked I took hold of her left hand. She smiled at me and squeezed it down into her lap. We slowly finished our drinks as she caressed my hand in her lap and I toyed with her hair, rubbing it across her neck and shoulder.

We stayed a little too long in the pub and when we arrived in the cinema it was quite full. But we managed to find two seats together in the middle of a row that was not too near the screen.

"So have you done much writing recently?" she asked as we sat down.

I sat beside her. "No I seem to have a terminal case of writer's block," I sighed.

"Well I'm sure it'll pass," she looked around the cinema.

"Yeah. But I keep getting itchy fingers, and thinking that I should be at home doing some work instead of being out enjoying myself," I explained.

"Well you might get some inspiration tonight," she looked back at me.

I laughed. "Inspiration! That's the last thing I need. I've got inspiration coming out my ears. What I need is to get some writing done. Not an idea for yet another story."

"Surely you need inspiration before you know what story to write," she said.

"I've got ideas for five novels and about fifteen short stories that I've haven't written. And probably never will," I replied. "I don't need any more."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Anyway," I smiled. "Inspiration is supposed to come from inside me, or from my own observations, not from copying other people's work. You wouldn't want me to plagiarise now, would you?"

"Of course not," she smiled back.

Yes I used to be that touchy about my writing.

Then the lights dimmed and the audience hushed as the projector sprang into action.

"Do you mind if I'm assertive," I whispered as I slipped my arm around her shoulders.

"Please do," she relaxed against me.

Normally when I put my arm around a girl I rest my hand on the outside of her shoulder, because if you droop your arm over her shoulder your hand almost inevitably comes to rest on her breast. Which is usually a bit too forward for a first date. But with Alexandra I found my elbow came to comfortably rest just past her neck and my hand brushed against her breast before I knew it. I pulled it away and didn't know what to do with it for a moment. But Alexandra came to my rescue. She solved my dilemma by taking my hand in her's, so we were actually holding hands and being intimate without me grouping her. Then she did something which I shall always remember. All through the film she ran her other hand up and down my forearm. Stroking the hairs on my arm and producing a sensation which made me shake with anticipation.

The film was a French romantic comedy about the director of a yoghurt company who falls in love with the cleaning lady at his office. She discovers a plot by one of the managers, who is also having an affair with the director's wife, to unseat him and take over the company. There was lots of intrigue, good one liners and even some social commentary, all rapped up in a fast moving plot, before we got the happy ending.

All in all it was quite a good film, but it was turned into a masterpiece because I saw it with my arm around Alexandra.

As we were coming out of the cinema I asked, "So where to now, Alexandra?"

"I know a nice pub up towards where I live," She waved in more or less the correct direction. "But I can't remember its name."

"That's OK," I said as I took her hand in mine. "Lets go." And we walked over to the pedestrian crossing to cross the busy traffic coming down Pearse Street.

We talked about the movie as we walked towards the pub, but by the time we reached the gates of Trinity College in College Green we'd both said how much we'd liked it a good few times and had told each other what the best bits had been and there was a lull in the conversation.

As we walked up Grafton St. I looked at a clock and realised that it was five to eleven. The pubs closed at eleven. I pointed this out to Alexandra.

"Don't worry we'll make it," she started to walk faster.

As we reached the top of Grafton St. and crossed into Stephen's Green I became more and more anxious. I don't know why, I mean it wouldn't have been the end of the world if we didn't get a drink.

"So where's this pub then?" I asked knowing that the nearest pubs were in Wexford St. or Camden St., both of which seemed a long way with only a few minutes to closing time.

"At the top of Camden St," she replied.

"Hold on," I stopped, and because we were holding hands pulled her to a stop. "Is it anywhere near Cassidy's?"

"Cassidy's," she smiled. "Yeah, that's the place."

"We'll never make it," I said.

"Well where else can we go?"

"There's got to be somewhere down Grafton St." I searched my memory. "I know," I turned around and we headed back down towards Davey Byrne's.

We rushed down and managed to get there before the doors closed. I asked her what she wanted and fought my way to the bar through the last-orders rush.

I got the drinks and fought my way back out to find Alexandra had found the one remaining free barstool. As I handed her drink I realised that with her sitting on the stool I could look her straight in the eye.

I smiled at her.

She smiled back. "Cheers," she raised her drink and took a sip.

I took a sip from mine.

"This is nice," she look around at the décor. "Have you been here before."

"Once or twice," I said. "I don't often drink in this part of town."

"Oh," she smiled. "And what part of town do you normally drink in."

"Well," I confessed. "It's usually Camden St. after Camera Club meetings."

We laughed. And as I lent forward I put my hand on her shoulder.

"So when's your last bus?" She sipped her drink.

"Oh don't worry about that," I wondered if that was a gentle hint that I wouldn't be going back to her place.

I sipped my drink.

"I'll walk you home if you like," I suggested causally.

"OK," she smiled back. "That'd be nice."

And I thought, Hey shit! She really likes me, then.

I put my foot on the bottom rung of her stool and stroked her hair. As I turned to take another drink and she ran her fingers across my head.

"Hey, it's soft," she continued to rub my spiky hair.

"Well of course it is," I said, wondering why she would think that my hair wouldn't be soft.

"I thought that you gelled it or something," she continued, stroking my hair.

"No," I smiled. "It's all natural. That's just the way it grows."

"And the way you brush it," she moved her hand down onto my face. "Hmm, you didn't shave tonight."

"Yes I did," the sensation of her hand on my cheek was sending shivers through my body and they all seemed to be gathering in my balls. "I shaved before coming out tonight."

"Oh," she said. "It seems so rough."

"I'm just such a 'macho' man," I smiled.

She smiled back. Then realising that we were in a public place she snatched her hand away and took a sip from her drink.

We talked for another ten or fifteen minutes, but I can't really remember what we said. All I remember is the irresistible desire she held for me. There was a huge passion for her building up inside me.

We finished our drinks and left. We were among the first to go after they stopped serving. I took her hand as we walked back up Grafton St.

"So where do you live?" I asked, wondering if we were going to have to get a taxi.

"I live in Synge St.," she replied.

"Oh," I said. "Just around the corner from the Camera Club."

"Yes," she smiled. "And my office is in Harcourt St."

"What?" I smiled back. "You only have a five minute walk to work every day."

"Yes, it's dead convenient," she looked at me.

"It's not some grotty little bedsit, is it?" I asked.

"No it's quite nice," she assured. "I've a very good landlord in this place."

"You mean you haven't always?" I teased.

"No," she replied. "I've lived in my fair share of grotty bedsits."

"And now you've found a nice place, that's convenient for both work and the Camera Club, you're going to settle down for a while?" I asked.

"Well yes," she sounded doubtful. "But you do get fed up looking at the same four walls all the time."

"Oh," I asked. "Are you planning on moving soon?"

"Well, usually I do," she said. "But where I am now is so good I'd have problems finding another like it for the same price."

We continued talking about the poor quality of affordable accommodation in Dublin as we walked. I told her about my own experiences and pointed out that I had found it just as bad when I had lived in London. Then we reached her house. I thought that she might turn to kiss me good night and not invite me in. But without a word she opened the door and walked in. I followed, closing the door behind me. She led the way to the back of the house to the entrance of her flat.

As you walked in there was a tiny entrance hall, where we hung our coats. With a door directly ahead that led into the bathroom and a door to the right that led to the main room. In the main room her bed was against the right hand wall, a small table and two chairs on the left, with the kitchen set in an alcove "behind" the bathroom. There was also a couple of armchairs, some bookcases and a wardrobe crammed in.

"I'll make us some coffee," she headed towards the sink.

I sat on one of the armchairs and asked, "Do you mind if I make myself more comfortable, by taking off my shoes."

"No," she smiled. "Feel free."

So I did.

She called over. "I won't need to put on a gas mask, will I?"

"No," I laughed. "I spend most of my day with my shoes off so there isn't time for the smell to build up."

We laughed and there was comfortable silence for a couple of minutes as the kettle came to a boil.

I looked at her as she moved in the small galley kitchen. The arch of her arm as she reached up to take two cups from a shelve. The swing of her hips as she turned to take a jar of coffee from a press. The tilt of her head as she spooned the coffee into the cups. Her tongue caressing her upper lip as she was careful not to spill anything.

The kettle clicked off and with a polished grace she poured the water into the cups and gave each a quick stir. Her back was towards me and I could see her shoulders shake as she stirred.

She turned and I quickly looked away.

She came over with two steaming cups. "Here you go," she handed one to me.

"That was quick," I said.

"Yes," she put her's down on the floor. "I got an express kettle a couple of months back and it's really brilliant."

She sat on the floor with her back against the other armchair and kicked off her sandals. We sipped coffee and chatted about the films we'd seen and about photography for a while. She sat back and looked up at me. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and looked down at her. Then I figured enough polite social interaction had passed.

I put my half finished coffee down beside the leg of my chair where it wouldn't be in the way. Then slid onto the floor beside her. I gently took her cup from her and put it beside mine. Then I slipped my left arm around her shoulders once more. She leaned into me and turned to kiss. Her lips opened and I pushed my tongue into her mouth. She put her arms around me and I put my right hand to the back of her head.

We kissed for a while, then I slowly moved my hand down to touch her left breast. She didn't object, so I gently massaged as we continued to kiss. A few minutes later we came up for air and I started to unbutton her cardigan. She smiled as I worked my way down the buttons, then pushed it open and put my hand back onto her breast.

I could feel the heat of her body through the thin cotton and her nipple pushing through her bra. She hugged me closer and we started to kiss again. I could feel her soft breast under my hand, with its nipple rubbing against my palm. I could taste her as we kissed. Feel my arm around her, her arms around me, our bodies close. I was in heaven for the next few minutes.

Then she sat up and moved a couple of feet away from me to take off her cardigan. I knelt on the floor beside her and put my arms around her waist. She reached up to my chest and started to unbutton my shirt. She slipped her hands inside and ran them around my body. I leaned forward and we kissed. A few minutes later she was nuzzling my right shoulder and I was licking and kissing her ear. I was feeling decidedly heated and had developed a serious erection.

Moving back slightly I pulled my shirt out of my jeans and slipped it off. She sat up, her hands still on me. We smiled at each other. I started to take off my shirt and she took her hands away. When I'd pulled it off and tossed it away I noticed that she was looking at me with a strange expression on her face. I'm not exactly rambo, I know, but there was enough hormones flowing that it didn't make much difference.

Putting my arms around her, I leaned close to start kissing again. She froze for a moment, then her lips opened and her tongue slid out. Her arms roamed up and down my back and we held each other close. I could feel the heat of her body as I held her. I could feel her breasts pressing against me as I hugged her. I could feel her arms on my naked body.

I pulled back. "So," I whispered. "Does this come off," I ran my hand along the neck of her top.

She smiled and shook her head, "No."

OK, I thought this is as far as it goes. I was disappointed, but not overly so. I'd never had sex on a first date before and hadn't really expected to have it now.

I don't know if she was feeling adventurous, or if she just took pity at the look of disappointment that must have come across my face, but she added softly, "But it does pull up."

I looked at her and she smiled.

I said, "Yes?" And smiled back.

"Yes," she replied and pulled it out of the waist band of her skirt and up to reveal her breasts cupped in their white cotton bra.

I was mesmerised. Slowly I put my finger tips to each breast. They were so sweet. The skin so soft, yet the flesh firm underneath. I spread my fingers across them and pressed my palms against her nipples. Then I pressed down under and gently pushed them up within her bra. I glanced up at her face. She was beaming at me. So I lent forward and kissed the soft exposed flesh. I ran my lips and tongue back and across them, then moved down to the cotton of her bra and kissed the nipples hidden below.

She shivered in my arms. I hooked my arms around under her top and moved my mouth up to kiss her. As I opened my mouth her tongue slid past my lips. Her warm body was pressed against mine. Our tongues worked in sync. Her hands raced up and down my back. My arms wrapped around and pulled her close.

Her fingers dug into my back and my face was buried in her hair. With my lips I could feel the heat of her naked skin neck and shoulder underneath the tangle of her hair. Her breath was hot and moist on my ear. We hugged each other as close as we could. The we pulled back to look at each other.

"So," I ran my hands across her cotton covered breasts. "Does this pull up as well?" I looked up at her.

She smiled and nodded yes.

"Yes?" I smiled back. And gestured with my hand.

She reached around and unhooked her bra. I ran my finger tips up from her waist and under her loosened bra to touch her soft, warm breasts. My fingers circled underneath the firm muscle. I ran my thumbs over her erect nipples and she sighed. So I pushed her bra up, bent down and kissed her left nipple. I ran my tongue across it, next my lips, then I opened my mouth wide and sucked as much as I could inside.

Her hands gripped my head and shoulder and she clenched and unclenched her fingers as I worked away. I switched from left to right breast and back again. Using my fingers and tongue and lips in all sorts of combinations. Then she put her hands onto the front of my shoulders and pushed me back. I looked up. She smiled at me. Then she pulled down her top and moved away to sit with her back against the bed.

"So, how far do you want to go?" I asked as I moved beside her and put my left arm around her shoulders.

"I think you better go now," she whispered.

I kissed her and she responded.

I thought, now don't do anything foolish to spoil it, Kevin. Just take it slow and gentle. Don't push beyond where she wants to go. I had this fear that my desire would get the better of me and I'd end up raping her.

I put my hand up under her top and ran my fingers around her nipple. She lapped her tongue inside my mouth. Moving my hand down her body I found her belly button just under the waist of her skirt. I rubbed my fingers in and around it, but she wasn't very sensitive there.

Our mouths and tongues still intertwined I pulled my hand out from under her waistband and moved it down to her leg. I felt her thigh under the thin material of her skirt. And as I ran my hand up and down I slowly moved from the top to the inside of her thigh. She let her legs open wider. I brushed my fingers lightly across her crotch and found that she was very hot.