Towards You The Weekend Pt 02

We arrived at Ben's house, a former worker's cottage of a much grander nearby estate, and he led me through the garden to the back door of the house. We went inside, I de-coated and de-scarved, and perched on a chair whilst Ben made tea. The taxi ride to the house had been pleasant, but tentative, and I'm sure the taxi driver thought we were both completely nuts, sitting there and grinning like mad and teasing each other.

Ben has been calling me The White Witch of Narnia, because after speaking about it together, Cambridge had their first frost of the season. In the car he'd handed me a package, which I opened at his table. Turkish Delight.

With his back to me, I looked around the room. Yellow walls, framed botanical pictures. A sideboard with a vast collection of spices. He cooks, I thought to myself. I wonder if he's learned when he's worked abroad. The kettle made some off-key whistling and Ben joined in, occasionally turning to me and flashing a white-toothed grin. He saw me nosing and gave a little nod of approval. Go on, it seemed to say. You can see me if you'd like. I wandered over to his book case and perused the titles, but their names blurred into one and my excitement meant I couldn't take them in. Under a paperweight a pile of postdated cheques. How odd, I thought, I wonder what they're for. As if reading my mind Ben appeared behind me. For my cleaning lady, he said. I'm often overseas so I leave them here for her to taken when she needs them. He handed me a cup of Earl Grey.

We chatted, and grinned some more, before we re-coated and re-scarved and after thrusting a particularly unattractive hat on my head, he led me out of the house and we wandered into Cambridge city. He gave me the full tour experience, chatting confidently about writers who had lived in the villages near him, the history of the place and the reasons that meant so many academics still revolved around this historic place.

He took me inside Cambridge, we saw King's College and Trinity. What heaven, and how marvellous to have studied there. There is a studious air there, and Ben was right, King's Student Bar was the only Student Bar I've ever been to where everyone is sitting around and talking about their subjects. We repaired to the cafe for a hot chocolate, and I think it was there that the first chipping away at the strangeness of my being there happened. It was ok, Ben seemed to say. This is ok.

We then started to wander somewhat awkwardly holding hands or walking arm-in-arm. The next day I realised he was nervous and wasn't sure how much I wanted to do that, and at the time I felt the same way. He didn't seem to overly want me to hold his hand, but maybe he was just better and seeming cool and calm than I was. So I just touched him when I wanted to. It seemed to work just fine. Outside Trinity College he kissed me, and I felt my knees buckle with the arousal that come from finally being taken the way you crave.

From then on, I was hazy with desire and my only real wish was to go back to his warm cottage and have him inside me. But there was a whole lunch to get through! We shared a bottle of wine and some pasta at a well known Italian Restaurant in the city centre. We talked and talked and talked. And kissed. He told me who he was and then so did I. We had the kind of conversation that makes you not want to leave the table, as you know that as soon as the spell is broken it won't be the same when you come back. Finally I had to excuse myself, and when washing my hands in the restroom I looked up at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognised myself, cheeks flushed, my hair falling in curls around my face. I knew somehow that this was just the beginning, and that I was standing on the precipice of a great big fall. I took a deep breath and sprang off, into the abyss. Here we go, I thought! Here we fucking go.

He stood up as I returned and told me I had the softest lips he'd ever kissed. I whispered that I was so turned on I could hardly stand it. He paid, we left, I got his coat whilst he settled and he was delighted that I knew which one it was.

Back at the cottage he tried to unlock the door, but suddenly it was too much and we stood kissing on his stoop and undressing each other. His warm, wet kisses enveloping my face, his hands touching my breasts whilst I unbuttoned his coat. I stole my lips away from him to whisper, open the door. We went inside.