Melanie

Author's note: I've been overwhelmed by the welcoming posts this story has received so far. Just glad I've been able to write something that has been good for some of you. I hope this will meet your approval too.

Sorry for the delay in getting Ch 3 up. I've been very busy getting started on a new University course, so I've been a bit distracted. There is however more to follow.

My deepest thanks go to my muse. I couldn't have even imagined this tale without her.

If this is the first time you've read of Melanie, you might like to read Chs 1 and 2 first.

*****

They were still giggling as they staggered from the torrent and into the residence. She fell back against the lobby wall, water streaming from her: So, my alley-assailant, your place or mine?

- I have the whisky. I could use one ... after I've washed my wildcat.

- There's a problem with this place Sandy. The beds are too narrow. How'll we get comfortable? My student days are long past.

- I'll just have to sleep on top of you. Or you on me? I think we'll manage for tonight. If we ever sleep that is? He pulled her to him suddenly, kissed her eyes: One thing's for sure, I'm not sleeping on the floor again. I'm not letting go of you all night Melanie. Just for now, you're mine, and you're going to stay mine.

She shivered, suddenly chilled by the soaking from their outing. Smiled at him in a way he didn't recognise: I may be yours for now, but we'll see. I usually just belong to myself. But I tell you this Scotsman. You have no idea what you've taken on here. Now let's go and get warm and dry. And she led him to the lift.

They shivered in the shower till the hot jet began to warm them. Her hand was round his limp cock as they embraced and she looked at him, still the gaze he couldn't recognise.

- This is mine, she growled softly, glancing down again. Her fingers moved and the flesh stirred in her hand. He stood slightly unnerved as the water heated him, felt himself grow. She knelt and took him in her mouth and his fingers moved on her hair as her lips closed round him. He leaned back against the tiles and felt her fingernails sink into his buttocks while the sweet sensations rose in him.

- I ... I'm sorry, he gasped, water pounding him as he looked down at this woman crouched before him, her knees spread lewdly round his legs. It registered in his mind that she had one hand at her own groin now. She was intent on his prick, didn't glance up.

- Sorry, he started again. My cock won't get up again I'm afraid, twice is about it for one night.

Her mouth left him and he felt her eyes flash, green tinge now to what had seemed brown irises.

- Is that so? Then her head was down again and gradually he felt himself harden so his cocktip was against her throat. Gasped as he knew his arousal was upon him, unheralded as a shooting star. He looked down and her fingers were a blur between her legs. She released him momentarily, gasping. Spasmed and clutched him hard. A finger pressed between his cheeks and entered his anus as her other fingers dug deep in his flesh. Her face rose so he could see the length of it, long and drawn over her cheeks as the orgasm shook her. He stroked her face, wondering, and felt the tension in her fingers relax where they clutched him. Pulled her up so she was against him, shaking, and enfolded her. Felt the pressure of her nipples. Crouched and sucked them, love and care for his wildcat welling. Her entire body was still quivering.

When he rose her eyes glinted into him: I think we're clean and warm now Sandy? I thought you said something about whisky?

She stepped from the shower and as he emerged, handed him a towel: Dry me. He gazed as she stood, head up, shoulders back, breasts jutting proudly, and knew in that instant that he had never seen such a vision of sensuality. Wrapped the warm towel round her, began to pat and rub. There was love in his fingers.

When they were both dry he hung his silk gown on her and put a shirt on himself, led her to sit on the bed. Poured the whiskies and they clinked glasses. Her eyes were fastened on his and she drained the whisky in one. He was sitting sideways on the bed, back against the wall, and she took the glass from his hand.

- Lie down Sandy. He shuffled as she rose, looking at him: On your back. He lay watching her eyes as they focused on his cock. They glazed and hooded, hungry, and she bent to take him in her mouth. As her lips closed on him she lifted her leg over his body and her pussy descended on his face.

- Ever been truly fucked Sandy? He shook his head unthinkingly and his beard brushed her cunt as she moved. She gasped and her teeth grazed him: Well, there's a first time for everything. Her mouth fastened round him and he felt his prick grow. Slabbered at her cunt as it moved on his mouth. Felt her engorgement under his lips and gasped as his cock hardened in her.

She turned and mounted him and he was in a daze as he slid into her, swallowed by her sex. Her eyes were shut tight so he didn't speak, just thrust into her. He knew now he was being used sexually, almost for the first time in his life, and as his mind accepted this, his excitement grew. Her face was a contortion of lust and she leaned onto him and kissed him, biting his lips hard.

Then she sat back: No more orgasms Sandy, you say? Mmm ... we'll see. I need you - in my arse.

And she lifted and twisted, put her feet in his oxters and holding his cock, settled her anus on him, her body folded forward. He felt himself sink in her, fierce heat in his cock as he became slowly engulfed.

- This is as close as it gets, uh? She husked, moving her ass on him now. He gasped, joy and exhilaration, his cock a hard pole in her. She moved again and he realised that he had met a woman who really loved him in her arse. She moved on him more, body twisting as his cock moved in her, rose and fell on him. They were both panting hard. Then she grimaced: But maybe just a bit ambitious. I like you raw, but I have to cum. More lube needed. She looked in his eyes: Don't you dare fucking move lover.

She lifted off him and stepped to where her handbag lay on the desk. He watched her back as she moved, her legs slightly splayed, and his cock twitched as he saw the glint of moisture at the crack of her pussy when she bent over the desk. Then she was facing him, small breasts swaying, left hand clutching a small container. Her eyes were smiling, but not warmly: hard and hooded. He sensed her focus on his cock and she knelt and squeezed lube on it, smarmed it in with her fingers. Then she knelt over his face and presented her arse, pulsing, an animal in heat.

- Wet me baby, she croaked.

He took the lube and squirted, rubbed it deep in her anus. She sighed as his fingers penetrated her. Then she twisted suddenly and, using her knees, her hand grasping his slick cock, she lowered her arse onto him. He was looking in her lust-hazed eyes and they widened as he felt her enclose him, then her irises rose up and she settled on him.

- You -- she gasped -- you Sandy. Now -- she grunted hard as she rose and fell on his cock. Now, you are mine. Her words were almost lost in the panting and gasping as she began to move on him. Hard and focused.

His cock surged in her. He knew now he would come a third time in this woman tonight, and his hips thrust into her, seeking, needing. His fingers moved to her clit and he was rubbing hard, sensing what she required.

He fucked into her and she rose on her knees, head back, proud breasts trembling high above his face. Her eyes were lost now and her mouth was open, panting, as they began to soar together.

Then as his balls began to tighten, she groaned and her hips fell on him. Her face was a paroxysm of lust as his seed released into her.

They hung there for moments, a trauma beyond words, suspended in something neither had ever felt.

Then, slowly, she began to collapse on him, her arse clutching his cock as she fell forward. His fingers moved from her pulsing clit.

He hugged her and licked her eyes: Melanie, darling, I love you totally. Physically he was wilting in her, emotionally he was somewhere he had never been.

They gasped, eyes locked, for some minutes. Not one word.

Then he said: Darling, I never met anyone like you before. Surely you are a lioness?

She pushed herself up on her arms, eyes still on his, so her head was above him as his cock twinged in her arse.

- ROOAAR!

They collapsed giggling together, and her muscles expelled him.

*****

They lay gasping. He fingered her eyelids softly, wondering at the incredible power and need of this woman. At what he felt for her. Sweat poured off them and he licked her neck, tasting it. She was drifting to sleep, coorying into him, but he knew sleep escaped him yet.

Eventually, when she seemed settled, he murmured in her ear, slipped unsteadily from the narrow bed, and pulled the duvet over her. Shrugged his shirt on. Poured a large whisky and moved to the wee balcony. He glanced back and she was resting, sleeping now.

He rolled a cigarette and gazed, mind almost blank, as the rain soaked the ground below, spattering heavily off the trees. He had in his life never been where he was now. He sipped whisky and wondered, the alcohol a familiar comfort in a strange new place. Leant over the balcony rail, rain splashing his head. Exhilaration suffused him.

Then there was a touch on his back and he turned. She was in his gown, eyes drooping but wee sparkles showing as he gazed in them.

- What's wrong love? she whispered.

- Wrong? What d'ye mean, what's wrong? She blinked and he drew her gently to him: Nothing in the world is wrong Melanie.

- You left me? You were with me and you left me?

- Sweetness, I'm not still recovering from jetlag. I knew I wasn't going to sleep, not yet, and I didn't want to disturb you in that narrow bed, that's all. He kissed her and they melted together. You must know that I am totally lost in you woman? I needed to think, that's all, is that allowed?

- And, he smiled, what's this 'love' word you just used on me? You told me words are dangerous? She grinned and her lips pursed as if to speak, but she remained silent. She kissed him, her full lips just brushing his.

- This is fantasy Sandy. A wonderful fantasy, but fantasy nonetheless. We both have real lives at home. But you must believe, I have never been like this with anyone before?

His lips grazed hers: I think I know that. I know that something awe-ful is in me too. Not sure what to do with it. That's why I knew I couldn't sleep then. He turned abruptly and took his whisky from the balcony railing, drained it. Held the empty glass before her: I need another. Join me?

She nodded and he moved from her. His eyes didn't leave her as he poured the drinks and carried them back out. He rolled a fag -- stupid to need such props, he knew -- and looked at her as he lit it.

- Melanie?

Her brows rose.

- Tell me about home? Your husband, your kids?

- Yes, I should. Now ... She paused and her eyes left his for a moment. Then she looked up into him again: It wasn't relevant before, no need to tell you, was there?

- No, no need, he breathed. But there is now.

She nodded: He's a bit older than me. I love him dearly, care for him deeply. And of course for my littlies. She smiled, tears in her eyes: But. He's ill, has been for a while now. Years in fact. She smiled through the tears and he knew her love for her family. She crumpled in his arms and he held her gently, stroking her back. She spoke more of her home, her sick man, her children.

- I don't need your pity Sandy, I'm fine, I'm in control. Or -- she smiled wanly, looking at him again -- I was till I fell for you. I suppose I've just been missing the caring bit, caring for me, that is. He does, of course, but ...

- And the sex! Her eyes flashed in his, definitely green there now, he wondered.

- So. That's me. In control, but a bit solitary. Needing to be loved. And -- she smiled again, but this time with a tinge of something like bitterness -- then I have to come here and meet you! She stood back from him, regarded him levelly. Her shoulders were back now and her nipples prodded the silk of the gown.

- So tell me Melanie, what should I do with my daft feelings for you? I want what's good for you ...

He reeled as her hand struck his face, just a wee slap, but he was surprised.

- DAFT? What d'you mean, daft. She was bent over as the laughter swept her, barely able to speak: You ... you horrible man ... how could you have -- she gasped as the wave of laughter hit her again -- how could you EVER have ... daft ... feelings for me? He held her in wonderment and she fell into him.

As her shaking subsided he held her reverentially, and he wondered at her power over him. He lifted her chin to kiss her and as the kiss deepened her hand led his to her groin.

- I need you Sandy. Love me now. Please.

He drew her into the room and slipped the gown from her. Pressed her back on the bed and knelt between her legs. She sighed and wriggled as his tongue moved up her inner thigh, and the sweet musk of her arousal transported him. His tongue probed and lapped and her hips began to move under him.

After her orgasm they settled tight and contented on the narrow mattress, clinging to each other. Drifted off wrapped together. No words had passed their lips since they had returned to the bed.

*****

A hand was shaking his shoulder and he slowly unwrapped himself from sleep. Melanie was leaning over him and when his eyes opened she bent to kiss him. He tasted fresh toothpaste as her tongue probed his mouth.

- Good morning my love, want some tea? She kissed him again.

He sat up slowly against the wall: Thank you. How did you know? Grabbed the mug, sipped, and the tea washed round his mouth.

They played with each other as they woke, but the clock ticked and they both had readings they wanted to attend that morning. Eventually she slithered from his arms: Sandy? I need to get dressed now. But my clothes are still sodden. She giggled and pointed to a bundle on the floor.

- Be a real sweetie and go fetch me some from my room? I can't go out there in your gown. She told him what she wanted, and exactly where to find it. He slipped into decency to run her errand and left the room.

Eschewing the lift and walking up the couple of flights of stairs to her landing, his mind was still a confusion from the previous night. He knew he had entered a new world, but had no idea where it might lead. If anywhere. She was married and committed. She lived a million miles from Scotland. He had fallen for her, totally. Where could that take him, except problems and heartbreak? His rational mind knew it was daft, that he was just silly for allowing this to happen. But there had been no choice in the matter.

He paused for a moment as he entered her room. She pervaded the space, her discreet scent, and maybe a trace of her sweat, even her arousal. He shook his head, searched for the clothes she required. Returned downstairs. The clock said seven-thirty when he entered his room. Splashing told him Melanie was in the shower. Yawning, he made more tea and settled on the bed for her to re-appear.

Eventually they were both showered and dressed, and they walked into the breakfast-room hand-in-hand. They smiled at the few faces they recognised and settled to eat.

*****

They attended different readings that morning, and over lunch discussed their experiences. He found the empathy they shared amazing, their ability to communicate how they had been affected by the pieces they had heard read. It was hard to believe that just two days previously they had never met. They were beginning to know the insides of each others' heads, wondering at how much they shared.

At one point she nodded at him as she was about to speak. Their eyes met and he could see into her. He told her what she was going to say and she burst into giggles, lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes as her cheeks glowed with the joy of their intuitive cerebral melding. He wanted to kiss her, but he just pursed his lips and her laughter re-doubled. They were dancing on moonbeams somewhere. But still sitting over lunch at a literary event in Paris.

They went and fetched coffee then, and as they sat back at their table the Norwegian professor approached them: Mind if I join you? His eyes were entirely on Melanie. She glanced at Sandy, he nodded assent. For the next few minutes the man focused entirely on her, and Sandy sat back.

He knew he'd have to get used to this. She was married and from almost as far away as you could get on this planet. And therefore unavailable to him in any way other than in the immediate present. Already he knew that she was by far the most wonderful woman he'd ever met. She breathed not just sex but an enormous human vitality, and every sentient male around her had to feel it. He knew by now that he was besotted with her.

He was unsure whether her assent to the Norwegian was because she wanted his company, or because she had too much human decency to turn him down. Sandy was upset at himself for feeling jealous, but he did. He felt as daft as a teenager. And it hurt a bit. He just didn't know what was happening.

Eventually the Norwegian glanced at his watch and rose, bending to kiss Melanie's hand before giving Sandy's a desultory shake, then leaving them. He wanted to talk to her but she was rising, so he left it, feeling uncomfortable.

The plenary lecture that afternoon was the highpoint of the event: Margaret Atwood reading from her new novella, The Penelopiad. The novelist's voice retold the ancient tale of Odysseus and Penelope, but this time from the woman's perspective.

Sandy sat transfixed as the tale unfolded, Melanie's hand loosely in his. He had to touch her, couldn't think now of a world in which he wasn't in contact with her. Atwood's words washed over them as they sat, thighs occasionally brushing. The magic of the storyteller's voice, and the tale she told, resonated with how he felt about Melanie. He sensed she was somewhere similar.

It was nearly four when the session finished, and the participants broke for coffee. Melanie turned to him, eyes sparkling.

- Let's get out of here for a bit Sandy? I want you to myself. Unless -- she gazed the question at him, but she had to know what his answer must be -- unless you'd rather stay here?

- No my sweet woman, I have to be with you, wherever you need to be.

- I'd like to go for a walk Sandy. I've had enough of this place for now. Take me somewhere lovely, please? And she pulled his head down to brush her lips on his.

Forty minutes later they emerged after two Metro changes, on the edge of the Bois du Boulougne. She gazed entranced at the rolling edge of woodland down the bank of the river: We're still in Paris, love?

His heart melted as she voiced the endearment: Aye, Paris yet lassie. He drew her to a refreshment booth on the edge of the wooded parkland.

- I could do with a beer. Melanie, I've no idea what's happening to me. All I know is, I'm in Paris, with you, but I really don't feel as though I'm on this planet properly.

A waiter took their orders and she smiled into him: Neither do I. But I know that wherever we are, we're on the same planet. Together. She took his hand and her knee pressed his under the table.

They chatted lightly for a bit and he slowly relaxed as he came to acknowledge internally that maybe she had no interest in the Norwegian, or anyone else. Except him. The idea overwhelmed him. He knew where he was, still wasn't entirely sure where she was. Dared not hope that, despite the awful intensity of their sex, she really wanted him.

She was pulling him up from the table now: Hey! I said I wanted a walk Sandy! Are you with me? He jerked from his reverie and rose, drew her to him. Felt her warmth as she sank against him.