It was the last thing I expected. It had been four years since I'd last seen or heard from Paul. Now, out of the blue, here was a letter and the memories came flooding back.
Dear Clare, it read.
I shouldn't even be writing this but I can't help myself.
It turns out that I'm going to be back in the UK. My company is expanding and, because of my local knowledge, I've been asked to help.
I'm going to be in Bradford, staying at the Regent on the 24th/25th. I shouldn't ask you this but if you are free I'd really like to catch up with you.
I know we haven't kept in touch and there are probably hundreds of reasons why you wouldn't be able or want to see me. If that's the case I'll understand. I just couldn't stand being so near you without even trying to contact you.
I hope you'll be able to make it but if not I'll understand. I know I'm being unfair trying to swan, however briefly, back into your life but I do still think about you.
All my love,
Paul
I must have read his letter a dozen times and as I did my mind slid back to the summer of four years ago.
Eight weeks. That was all the time we'd had together. Eight short weeks that seemed like an eternity at the time. We'd just graduated. Paul was jetting of to California to do his Master's and I was due to start my first job after graduation. The intensity of our relationship was frightening, perhaps because we knew our time was limited. Neither of us held any illusions that we had a future once the summer was over. We simply lived every moment we had as if it was our last, cramming as much experience as we could into the time we had.
We'd met, inevitably, at the end of term party. Paul was the "friend of a friend" that always seem to be present at these affairs. He was someone I knew to see and had probably said no more than a dozen words to during the four years we'd been at university. Our eyes met briefly across the room and he smiled. I smiled back, my knees strangely weak.
Paul was about 6'2", well built, I remembered that he played rugby. Not what you'd call stunning by any means but quite good looking in a slightly dishevelled sort of way.
I walked over to the table that was serving as a make-shift bar and helped myself to a another drink. I chatted to friends, danced and drank more than was probably good for me. There was a slightly frantic atmosphere that could probably put down to a mixture of the end of term need to let off steam and the fact that, in many cases, this was the last time we'd all be together. Many of the friendships that had been made over the last few years would begin to fall apart as we went out into the world to take up careers.
At some point Paul asked me to dance. We'd caught each others' eye on a number of occasions but finally he'd got me when we were both on our own. An excitement rose within me as we danced. I was drawn to him and I was pretty sure he was attracted to me.
I hadn't intentionally gone on a man hunt that night but I'd gone to a fair effort to do myself up, I always did. Without wanting to sound big headed I knew I was attractive. 5'6", with shoulder length, dark, curly hair. Body; slim but generously curved in all the right places, kept firm with regular exercise. A tight, black, v-neck halter top, figure hugging leggings, to show my legs off to good effect and a little denim jacket completed the look. I looked good and I felt good. My finals, a six week onslaught of stress induced abstinence were behind me and if a little excitement was to pass my way, I certainly wasn't going to let it pass me by. No, I hadn't gone looking for anything in particular that evening but I was alert to the possibility.
As Paul and I danced I became aware of the frustration that I'd endured and that only heightened the sense of excitement and anticipation that I was feeling.
Then, suddenly, the music changed. The DJ obviously decided the time had come to put on a few slow numbers. Paul looked at me with a quizzical smile. I simply smiled back and moved into his embrace. My body melted against his and as we slowly moved in time to the music I could feel his reaction, that gallant reflex, as our bodies moved together. I smiled, "What's this I feel?", I whispered, standing on tiptoes to reach his ear. Paul smiled then slowly, giving me every chance to break away, moved to kiss me.
Our lips touched. That was all it took. One fleeting contact and my passion, suppressed as it had been for so long, ignited. I wanted him. There and then; I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted him to undress me and explore my body with his hands, to tease me with his lips and tongue, to take me as he desired, driving me wild with passion, satisfying my every need. What, I suddenly realised, I needed was a good, hard fuck, and I wanted Paul to be the one to administer it.
As we danced the feeling of anticipation grew. I simply had to have him. From the evidence I could feel I was pretty certain Paul felt the same way. I whispered to him "Meet me outside on a couple of minutes". I gathered up my things and made my way out. Once outside I waited nervously. I lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, wondering what was keeping him. Finally, as I stubbed it out, I resigned myself to the fact that I'd misread the situation and that he hadn't really been interested. I was just about to give up when Paul, looking slightly flustered, emerged through the door.
"Sorry.", he breathed, "Couldn't find my coat."
"I forgive you.", I laughed and then we kissed. His lips pressed against mine and I could feel fire in my veins. Reluctantly I pulled away. "Come on.", I said, my voice hoarse with desire. "Let's go." I took his hand and led him the short walk to my flat.
The flat was empty, I knew it would be. Sarah, my flatmate was away with her boyfriend and wouldn't be back until Monday. Closing the door behind us, I kissed Paul briefly then led him to my room.
And then our lips were together again. Our hands roaming all over each others' bodies as we struggled to remove each others' clothes. Our jackets lay forgotten on the floor. My fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt and were soon exploring his tightly muscled chest. My top was lifted over my head, I raised my arms to let it be removed completely.
Paul cupped my newly revealed breasts in his hands then began to suck on them. A bolt of pure pleasure ran through me as his tongue teased my nipples. My hands feel to his jeans tugging at the buttons. With one movement I pulled his jeans and boxers down over his hips, revealing a cock that was long, thick and very, very hard.
"I want that inside me," I said as I stepped back, removing my leggings and slowly peeling off my black, lacy knickers. Paul rummaged in his jacket pocket. He dug out his wallet then extracted a condom from one of the compartments.
"Feeling lucky were you?", I asked with an wicked little smile.
"A good Boy Scout is always prepared.", he replied with a grin.
