Thank you to the readers of my first story 'London, 2020'; your positive messages and favourite ratings are very much appreciated and encouraging for a first-time writer.
I have created another chapter following the relationship between Kris and Callie. I hope you enjoy reading it.
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Walking back from the apartment, I feel a new lightness in my step. It's an easy task to nip into the shower and wash the scent of Kris from my skin; no-one questions post-walk hygiene these days. With my hair wrapped in a towel, I walk naked into the bedroom and lie down, closing my eyes. I relive the afternoon's events and let my fingertips trail slowly over my belly, just as Kris had done minutes earlier as a prelude to our goodbyes. After orgasm our bodies had melted together into a tenderness that surprised me, and we shared long, searching kisses before I reluctantly prepared to leave, dressing in front of him without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. It felt like we had been lovers for years.
"Next week, Callie?"
"Yes. Next week."
There aren't many messages exchanged in the meantime, life being what it is now, but on Sunday evening I'm thrilled to find an email with the subject title:
Thursday
. The text simply reads: '
Wear your heels.'
When Thursday dawns I wake up early with a knot in my stomach. In the bathroom, filling the tub with jasmine-scented bubbles, I stare critically at my reflection in the mirror. There are dark shadows under my eyes and I look washed out. I didn't sleep well. I've been struggling with guilt these past few days. Someone once said that the best predictor of future history is past history - and if that applies to fidelity, it was always going to be a safe bet that I would break my marriage vows sooner or later.
Although these days I'm the very model of a respectable London lady, my early twenties were liberally peppered with spicy one-night stands. Blonde men in tight t-shirts in Soho nightclubs. Dark, reserved businessmen in sober suits. Co-workers; bosses; friends. Some attached, some not. One who wanted biting on the chest until he bled; one who had me in the back of a black cab in Mayfair. It didn't seem so adventurous at the time. I was young, with a beautiful body. It seemed only right to share it.
As time moved on my priorities changed. I wanted a home and children; a husband to adore. The man I wed was loving, kind and stable. We began happily enough, but I never imagined in those early days how my marriage would alter completely with the arrival of two babies, barely two years apart, and the gradual distancing of my husband, swallowed up by his ever-more demanding city career. Wave crashes upon wave in the sea of life; the exhilaration of birth; the exhaustion of raising children; the endless repetition of daily chores.
And yet. I find myself today preparing for another visit to my lover - a man I hardly know. Am I simply the same woman I was twenty years ago? Or is it these strange times that have persuaded me to stray? Like so many people in this pandemic I've felt helpless, angry, fearful and lonely - often all in the same hour. Of course I'm thankful for my many blessings. But I so desperately longed to reach out to someone. And that moment I saw his smile...
I sink into the warm water and close my eyes. As I remember how my body responded to Kris; how his touch set me alight with desire, I realise the reason for my betrayal hardly matters. I just want it to happen again.
I follow my soak in the bath with a liberal application of coconut oil, massaging it into my skin and running a little through my damp pubic curls. The heat from the bath has put some colour back into my face and once I've applied a little make-up and styled my hair into a shiny, bouncy bob, I start to feel happier again. What to wear? Something simple today. White t-shirt, navy shorts, bronze leather flats. The outfit shows off my slim figure and tanned legs, and is casual enough to quell any suspicion on the home front.
'Wear your heels.'
Hah - not a chance. I'll have to stash them and change when I arrive. I scan my wardrobe for possible candidates. Red suede slingbacks? No. Too obvious. Gold kitten heels? Not unless I'm spending the afternoon in the 1980s...
Ah. Here we go. Nestling at the back are a long-forgotten pair of stilettos in black patent leather. Perfect. I wipe off a thin layer of dust, restoring their glossy beauty. I can't wait to wear them for my lover.
Heading for the front door a few minutes before 2pm, I have a narrow escape - suddenly the children want to join me on the daily walk. Quelling my panic, I remind them that sometimes Mum needs a break in my 'firm but fair' tone of voice. Thank heavens it works. I usher them to the games console and escape clutching my shopping bag, where the shoes are hiding under a pile of books intended as a lockdown gift for my neighbours. I take a quick detour to give the Nintendo time to successfully absorb the kids' attention and then walk swiftly back, taking the garden steps two at a time.
Kris has left the front door open for me. Once inside I feel a huge sense of relief, but barely have time to breathe before the man himself, effortlessly sexy in jeans and a faded t-shirt, appears and gathers me into an embrace; drowning my senses with a passionate kiss. The scent of his body is intoxicating and I let him take my weight, knowing it's an easy ask of his strong arms.
The tip of his tongue, flame-hot, darts against mine, then languorously explores my mouth. I stifle a moan of desire. His lips slowly pull away, and I gather myself and open my eyes. As always, I'm struck by the contrast between his hard face and tender eyes. We gaze at each other silently and I can tell he is once again weighing up the options; deciding how, when and where today's seduction will take place.
Who is he? Oh, he's given me the biography, sure - but a man who can make love like Kris must have secrets...
Without thinking, I blurt out, "How many women have you had?"
He laughs, amused by the question.
"Well..."
But that's as far as the answer goes. Still smiling, Kris lifts my arm to his mouth and, without breaking eye contact, licks my wrist with a long stroke of his tongue that jolts me into arousal. Feeling like I'm in a tiger cage at feeding time, I arch away from him very slightly but he senses it at once and increases the pressure on my back, pulling my body closer to his, and grazing my palm with his teeth.
When he hears a gasp catch in the back of my throat he releases me and I re-balance somewhat unsteadily.
"What's in the bag?"
"My heels. As requested."
I reveal the contents and he raises an eyebrow, smiling with satisfaction, before nuzzling into my neck and murmuring "Excellent". Oh god, I want him. I squirm delightedly as his lips gently explore my skin, licking and teasing deliciously. A final nip with his teeth, making me jump and squeak like a kitten, and he pulls away.
"There's tea in the pot, Callie. Help yourself. I'll be waiting in the bedroom. I want you wearing nothing but the shoes. Okay?"
I'm not about to argue. Kris can't be disobeyed. We both know that the rules I'm breaking - on so many levels - mean that in this space I have to be fully compliant. I nod my consent, lips parted with longing. He smiles and saunters off. In the time it takes to pour the tea and splash in the milk I become aware that my excitement is growing; I'm enjoying the idea of walking naked into the bedroom in my stilettos - making an entrance like a grand courtesan. But my sense of ownership over the situation is a false one. This is his place. Anything could happen here. All the power lies with him.
Breathing harder, trying not to get too nervous, I take a sip of tea. How long should I wait before walking in? Three minutes, five, ten? Time isn't on our side - we both know that. But the anticipation is far more exciting than I'd imagined. Simply being in a different house after so many weeks of isolation is a thrill. I take one more sip of tea before quickly peeling off my clothes. When I get down to my navy blue lace pants there's a damp, creamy stripe along the gusset. I smile to myself. I hope Kris will enjoy my arousal as much as last time.
I'm just reaching for the high heels when a brown leather wallet on the far side of the kitchen counter catches my eye.
Shall I peek? I glance guiltily over my shoulder; there's definitely no sign of Kris. Maybe a quick rifle through the contents would be revealing... What would you do in my place, dear reader?
Curiosity briefly battles impatience...and loses. Fuck it. I came here to have his dick inside me and I'm not waiting any longer.
I avert my eyes from the wallet and slip on the shoes. They're cold on the soles of my feet and I wobble very slightly, adjusting to the height change and a new, sexy posture. Giving my body a supple stretch, I raise my arms to the ceiling, feeling my ribcage lift. There's a deepening curve in the small of my back; breasts and bottom pushing outwards and upwards; thighs and calves toned and firm. As a final preparation I fluff out my dark cloud of pubic hair and pinch my nipples erect, admiring their rosy-brown hardness. It's only a few days until my period is due and my breasts are at their most full and sensitive, flesh straining against skin like ripe fruit ready to be plucked.
I lick my lips, take a deep breath and start heading slowly to the bedroom, exaggerating the natural sway of my hips. Owing to the densely carpeted floors there's no resounding click-clack to herald my arrival (secretly the real reason all women wear heels) but when I push the door open the lustful look on his face is reward enough. Kris is naked, lying on pristine white sheets with the casual grace of a man completely at ease in his own skin. The furniture has been rearranged - this time there is a low dresser covered with a towel at the foot of the bed, and the large mirror is leaning against the adjacent wall.
Kris approaches me, unsmiling now, stealthy as a cat. He leads me by the hand to the dresser and gently but firmly bends me over it. Now the towel makes sense; it softly cushions my waist and breasts as I lower myself down. I turn my head to the mirror. I see a woman pink-faced with apprehension and desire, her lovely legs in whore's shoes, her naked bottom raised and exposed.
The dresser is the perfect height and I find I can lean all the way forward to grip the cold metal bed rail. This spontaneous action is rewarded with a silent nod from Kris, who is circling me like a predator. I'm desperate to feel the heat of his body, but he is taking his time - quietly enjoying my anticipation. Watching me in the mirror, he strokes his cock, displaying his full erection. I swallow hard. The L-shaped position is reminiscent of one of my Pilates poses, but I've never done it naked in high heels. My muscles are straining and tense. This needs to happen now.
Making sure I can see his every movement, Kris reaches for a condom and smoothes it over his thick shaft. This is torture. I know I won't be able to stay quiet for much longer. But suddenly he's behind me.
Oh god.
He's in me, filling me faster than I'd expected, tipping my hips forward and pinning me to the dresser.
