Sara and Vincent

I had always loved spending time in smaller towns. It seemed easier to get lost in the vast unknown when the town itself fit into that category. The kind of towns surrounded by rolling hills, with treelines ever present on the horizon. The kind of towns where the locals would say "Yeah you know *insert major city name*...? Kind of near there." when describing where they were from. I never had the privilege of coming from somewhere unknown, everybody has heard of London. London has the opposite problem, when you say you're from London you then have to give a ten minute explanation of what part of London you grew up in, and why it either wasn't the rich or wasn't the poor side, depending on who you were walking to. So I always engineered situations that left me in smaller towns, and just told people I was from the south.

On the day in question, the town in which I found myself was as beautiful as them all. Old buildings, cobbled streets, indie looking stores with stickers that read "Buy Local!" in the windows. I was at a café, sat outside and enjoying the final rays of a late September morning. It was probably too cold to sit outside, after taking off my gloves I had to hold onto the steaming hot chocolate in front of me to stop my fingers going numb.

"If you're serious about the post grad, it's good to start thinking about it now." My coffee date. Well, maybe only I saw it as a date. He probably saw it as an act of charity, helping his friend's daughter sort her life instead of mindlessly studying music and not focussing on the real world. "Even teaching would open more doors for you, since you've already decided performing is off the table."

I wrinkled my nose at the mention of being a performer. He noticed, and the smile that took over his mouth lit up his kind, dark eyes. I spent a lot of time staring at his eyes, he probably thought I just had a weird obsession with eye contact. I was looking into them again when I answered, knowing my smile was matching his. "You know I've always hated being the centre of attention, Vin."

He nodded, knowingly. He'd known me my whole life. Vincent de Luca. Uncle Vinnie. I dropped the Uncle part shortly after I turned 16 and realised why he was the favourite of my father's friends.

"I know you do, Sara. I know." He dropped the pet names for me around the same time. Part of me wished it was for the same reasons, but all of me knew there was no chance he could even consider seeing me as the woman I had become instead of the kid he watched grow up.

"You know I'd always give you the best reference I could, and my name still carries some weight around the university these days." He was head of the music college when I was younger, the only reason I ever wanted to learn to be a musician. Listening to him brush his fingers along the keys of our otherwise obsolete piano was the soundtrack of my childhood.

"Or there's always other ways to make it an even better report of your skills."

He winked. I gasped. I just prayed that the chilled wind had already left my cheeks pink enough that he didn't notice the blood rush to my face. Of course the first place my mind would go would be there... The smirk on his face did little to reassure me that he meant otherwise.

"I...I-I'm not so sure I c-could... Like... With y-you? Are you suggesting that I..." My eyes were wide open, bright with the implications of his words. "W-what are you suggesting?"

"I could introduce you to some people. I think it's a well known fact, or at least well enough known, that nobody goes anywhere in the arts without a little nepotism."

Oh. Of course he didn't mean anything. My mind was just, as always, in the gutter. As always.

"You know I'd appreciate that. Networking is power." I mumbled, more than a little embarrassed.

His smile came back, flashing near perfect teeth as he sipped from his impossibly tiny espresso cup. "I'm having a bit of a thing tonight. Networking, as you called it. The department heads, some friends, some of the men I studied with." He waved one hand around as if the people attending wouldn't be important. "Maybe you can show us what you have to offer, and we can confirm your place on the MMus for next year?"

I nodded, almost disappointed my mind had wandered and returned so fast. "What should I wear? Is it casual? Drinks?" I looked down at my current clothes, as did Vincent. I could almost feel his gaze as it raked across my clothes: boots and an oversized jacket for the cold but worn open, contrasted with skin tight trousers and a shirt that could almost be described as inappropriate. I was always desperate for him to see me as the 22 year old adult that I was, and that always led to me flaunting my curves.

"You're impressive in everything you wear." He sipped the coffee again, denying me any flash of his feelings. I blushed at the comment, regardless. "It's not so important, I'm sure nobody will remember what you were wearing at the beginning of the night. Good wine, good food." He shrugged. "Of course, good music."

I nodded and agreed, again praying for the wind to cover my embarrassment. He told me when to arrive, of course I already knew where his apartment was.

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I looked at myself in the mirror one final time. First impressions were important. Today I was just one face on a long list of applicants, but by the end of the evening the entire committee of my college could know me by name. It was daunting, yet the prospect of having even one glass of wine with Vin was enough for me. Of course logic told me I was still just a dumb little girl chasing after her daddy's best friend, but I had come to terms with that role and decided to play into it. At least for tonight.

Heels, moderately high, but still walkable in. A red dress, Vin's favourite colour. He had once told me that red complimented my green eyes, so it became my favourite colour too. It was form fitted, showing the few curves I worked hard for. I turned to the side, making sure the swell of my ass was still hidden by the short skirt, but still leaving little to the imagination. It was a tight line to walk. I ran one hand through my dark hair again, trying to get a naturally tousled but still perfect look. The night had cooled into a mild storm so there wasn't much point when even walking to the car would ruin it. One last swipe of lip colour, red to match the dress. Red lips and dark eyes were a classic.

I called my Uber, surprisingly nervous. It was just like any other time I had called an Uber to his apartment, but this would be the first time there would be any alcohol present. Perhaps this was him finally recognising me as an adult, and equal. A potential g- I cut my own thoughts off as the driver started spamming messages to tell me he had arrived.

The drive was short, rain battering down the windows. I stared out at the streets of the town. It was just around time for the bars to start kicking out those who had drunk too much, so the pavements were peppered with men being held upright, and women carrying their shoes in one hand so they were less likely to fall. My friends had invited me out for a similar evening, they thought it was weird I turned them down to go to an event with my professors.

I could hear soft jazz playing around the doorframe as I rang the bell and waited. Vincent answered quickly, the glass of red wine in his hand clearly wasn't his first of the night. I could tell by his face, softened and gentle with alcohol.

"The guest of honour, Sara." In an exaggerated bow, he swept his wine hand low and opened the door. I'd spent a lot of time in his apartment, so it seemed a bit out of place.

Inside there were half a dozen men, all Vincent's age or older. Perhaps a little younger, one looked to be in his late 30s, but the rest were all greying at the edges and carried themselves with an air of maturity that 20-something year old students couldn't tap into.

"Wine?" Vincent asked me, gently leading me further into his den-like apartment. "Or you probably prefer something more spirited." He hummed a laugh at his own joke. "A cocktail?" He gestured to a brass cocktail set on the corner of the kitchen island.

"Anything is fine." I was nervous, I could feel my palms beginning to sweat. Somehow I was both the youngest person here, and the only female.

Vincent nodded, gesturing for me to join the others in the main room and telling me he would join us all soon. The men turned, I could feel their combined gaze burning through my dress. Something told me I should have worn more clothes. They introduced themselves, and I instantly forgot their names. There were a few familiar faces, the head of department and the lecturer from my composition class. I could tell none of them knew my name, and I was almost thankful.

Vincent returned a few minutes later, refilling glasses and handing me my own. I had no idea what he had mixed together but it was delicious. He always knew what I liked better than anyone else. He sat down heavily onto the sofa on which I was gently perched, like a bird ready to fling itself into the abyss at any moment.

There were three of us trying to sit on the two-seater so it was a little cramped, or at least I kept telling myself that was why he was so close. I could feel his hand hovering just inches behind me, resting lazily on the arm of the couch. His leg pressed against mine, warm and relaxed. He moved his hand, resting it on his leg. His fingers brushed against the side of my leg. I felt like every nerve in my body was alight, trying to contain myself was impossible. All I wanted was to ease closer to him, to relax and rest against his body and feel as he let his restraint leave.

Vincent drank more wine, I drank more of whatever delightful cocktail he had concocted. The other men drank, various coloured liquid sloshing in their glasses. They made jokes, their laughter bellowed around the room, they drank some more. I drank some more. I made jokes, they laughed as if I was one of them. Vincent continued to inch towards me. I didn't notice it at any time, until he absently twisted a lock of my hair with the fingers of his free hand. I was leaning into him, one of my shoulders and half of my back nestled into his chest and side. It felt safe, no wonder I was so comfortable with all of these strangers. He was like a comfort blanket, holding me together.

"It's getting late." Vincent gestured to the large clock above the bathroom door, using a head nod to point as his hands were both already engaged. One holding a near empty glass, and the other tucked around my back and gripped to my hip bone.

I nodded in agreement and looked at my own empty glass, sadly. This was the first time I had felt seen by him. "I should call an Uber to get home."

Vincent raised one eyebrow questioningly. The other men fell a little silent. "Or you could stay with us." The hand on my hip rubbed lightly down my thigh, and for the first time I felt as though I wasn't insane by assuming the implications.

I started to stutter and excuse, or an agreement, I wasn't quite sure. But Vincent stopped me. He put his glass on the side table, already littered with a few empty glasses and a half eaten charcuterie.

He sat back down, pulling me into his lap. I was only a little intoxicated, I had only had perhaps three drinks at most, but I felt my head swimming as both arms wrapped around my waist. The other men didn't even seem to notice anything was out of the ordinary. Vincent's mouth was less than an inch from my ear, I could hear the vibrations in his throat as he murmured to me, "I always thought I was imagining the way you looked at me, but you turned up at my apartment tonight wearing that dress." He shifted his weight to sit a little more upright. "You know I love that colour on you." His hands ran down my thighs again, his nails scraping along the soft nylon of my stockings.

I was shaking, my heart was beating so loudly I wouldn't have been surprised if the neighbours could hear it. I could barely answer him, I just nodded. I was too afraid if I tried to speak, a whimper would pass my lips and nothing more.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," one of his hands curved up to my hip, working gently to the side until he was cupping my ass. "But I think we're both two consenting adults who really want this right about now."

I nodded again. One hand on my ass, the other worked its way up my stomach, stopping just below the swell of my breasts. "You have to say it. Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me, Sara." I nodded, and he snickered a little into my ear. "Use your words, Sara."

"I want you, Vin." I tried to keep my voice low. The other men were still in the room, and somewhere deep in my subconscious I was aware of that apparently I tiled my head around to look at him as best I could. "I want this."

His lips brushed gently across my neck, just below my ear. "Good girl," he whispered, letting his hands roam a little more freely. The hand from my ass lightly swept to my inner thigh, gently pushing my legs apart. I held them together tightly, knowing the limits of my dress. The hand on my stomach grazed to my breasts gently. I could feel my nipple harden under the lightest of touches, and I know from the gentle chuckle behind me that Vincent felt it too.

I tried to bring myself back to reality, as his hands explored their conquest. I tried to focus on the conversation. My eyes locked on with the younger man, I had found out over the evening that he was 36, a PhD student. His tongue flashed over his lips hungrily, and I saw his eyes dart down to wear my panties were almost definitely exposed. I was lost to my fantasy as Vincent took what had belonged to him for the longest of times.

He shifted his weight again, and I could feel his erect cock pressing into my back. It felt good to know that I was having the same effect on him; I already knew about the growing wetness in my panties. He rocked his hips a little, grinding his cock against my ass and back, his hand beginning to cup my thankfully still covered pussy. I was quickly beginning to forget about the men around me.

I stood up, straightening my clothes abruptly. Vincent looked at me with surprise, before opening his arms when he realised what I wanted. I straddled his lap, facing him and looking again into the dark eyes I had grown so fond of. Feeling his lips crash against mine was more intoxicating than the alcohol, I felt like a teenager breaking all of the rules as the man I had grown up beside used his fingers to lift the hem of my dress.

With one knee on either side of his lap, just a few small pieces of fabric were stopping his thick cock from brushing against my wet pussy. It was driving me insane, and from the way he scratched at my panties I could sense that Vincent felt the same way. His fingers slipped beneath the soft fabric, and he instantly found them coated in my wetness. I heard him groan just a little as he brushed them higher. It was my turn to moan into his mouth as they brushed over my tight asshole. I had never even considered anything like that before, but in that moment I would have let Vincent do anything he wanted.

His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, we were joined by the mouth and refused to part from each other. His hands left my body and it took all of my self control not to demand he return them to their rightful position. He reached for his jeans, but I caught his hands. That was my job. I smiled and detangled our bodies, kneeling down and allowing him to help me undo his belt. After carefully shuffling his jeans off and sitting them on the arm of the sofa, I gently kissed him. My hands quickly found their way to his cock, it felt big in the palm of my hand and more importantly as hard as a rock.

He groaned as I continued to palm his cock through his underwear, and his hands found themselves all over my fully clothed body. It didn't take long for me to let his dick spring free. I could see precum beading on the head, and something primal took over. I quickly slid to my knees and ran my tongue along the tip, savouring the taste. I made sure to get every drop of precum off before sealing my lips around his head and working my way down his shaft. Slowly at first, gaining speed. I had always been told that the pressure was important, so I kept the pressure steady and firm, my tongue wrapping itself around the thick head as I went to work.

Getting lower and lower, I wrapped one of my hands around the base of his cock and pushed further until he hit the back of my throat. I gagged a little, pulling off and letting strings of spit keep us connected. In the silence, I realised he had been moaning and groaning the whole time, and that was enough encouragement for me. One hand wrapped around him again, I used the other to steady myself as I tried even harder to get his entire dick in my mouth. It was huge, but it felt so right to finally have him inside of me - even if it wasn't the finale yet.

"Fuck." He moaned again, putting one hand on the back of my head and gently holding my hair back so I could focus entirely on his cock.

"Fuck," another voice echoed, distracting me from my task. Even with Vincent's cock deep in my throat, I glanced quickly around the room. I had forgotten about the others, but there they stood, fisting their own cocks, and eyeing me hungrily.

"You're such a good girl. I know you say you hate being the centre of attention," he paused to grunt as I kept my eyes trained on his, my mouth too full to answer. "But I think you make an excellent performer." Both of his hands found themselves on the back of my head as he thrust himself down my throat. Resisting the urge to gag was becoming too difficult, and I pulled off gasping for air. Vincent ran one hand down my cheek gently, his beautiful smile made me feel the pride I craved from him.

He tugged his shirt off, before standing before me. I stayed on my knees, entranced by the man before me. Vincent gestured for me to stand up, I obeyed. He kept muttering his new catch phrases, "Good girl, such a good job, what a pretty girl you are for me," as he carefully unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor.

And that was how I found myself naked in front of many respected members of staff, at one of the best music colleges in England. And it was also how I came to realise that maybe I did like being the star of my own show.

I turned to them, thankful that of all days I had decided to forgo a bra. My panties were darkened with my own juices, and sitting askew from when Vincent had kindly kept his hand in them. I turned away from Vincent to the men around me, and slowly bent over to take them off. If anything, I was going to become more of a spectacle. Thinking of the way Vincent had rubbed his lubricated fingers over my tight asshole made me bite my own lip as I showed it to him once again. Finally, I kicked my panties to one side, and stood before the room in only my high heeled shoes.

Vincent sat down on the couch, his eyes telling me more than his words would ever have to. I took the three short steps to him, and once again straddled his legs. This time, his cock slid along the soft folds of my pussy with ease, no more fabric stopping us from connecting the most primal and simplistic way that man and woman know.

He rocked his hips, sliding his thick cock against me. Every time it brushed against my clit, the tiniest moan escaped from my lips. Another thrust, another gasp. He leaned his head forwards, taking one of my softly peaked nipples into his mouth. His tongue brushed over the tight nub and I moaned in pleasure. He was going to send me over the edge without even fucking me. He thrust again, this time his teeth clamping down on my nipple and eliciting a cry that was somewhere between pleasure and pain, but definitely enjoyable. I could feel his mouth stretching against my skin as he smirked at his own actions.