It wasn't the clergy but the decisive notes from the organ that signalled to the congregation of St. Andrew's Cathedral when the service was officially over. Cecilia could hear the organist fiddling still as she toddled down the main steps. What a nice-looking man, she thought, with big strong arms. Fair skin, deep brown eyes. Her clutch smacked against her side in awkward rhythms as she stepped into the afternoon light. He had looked at her too. Going up to receive the holy communion, and after mass, as she streamed out the parish with the rest of the flock.
On the main road a middle-aged Chinese man on a bicycle sprung into sight. Jamming his brakes, the man began apologising earnestly for stopping in front of her so suddenly, what a terrible shock she must have had. She smiled, waving her hand no, no, it's okay. But he simply smiled back, repeating himself. It occurred to her that he was waiting to see if she'd respond in Mandarin.
"Er, it's okay, uncle..." demurely, then off she went, no destination in mind. But places are like magnets, anyway. Dabbing on some sanitizer and rubbing her wrists, smooth palms, kissable fingers, Cecilia found herself steadily walking, already halfway towards Odeon Towers before she even realised it.
Her Saturdays she spent this way. Mornings in the church, with God, then a nice brunch somewhere not too loud, so that she could get some reading time in. That these places always happened to have the best drinks, your Singapore Slings, Mai Tais and such, was a bonus.
If she wasn't too tired, and if he happened to be free, in the evenings Cecilia would make the trip down to the godforsaken (really shouldn't cuss) west side to see Simon. Give him the titillating details in person. Most of the time he wasn't free, but he was always happy to get a call from her while she was out "in search of adventure."
So, Loof. A rooftop bar, with a view of the Raffles Hotel across the street, another magnet place she keeps coming back to. She sits at the counter, always, and the bar guy, Norman, brings around her usual Little Pink Dot, a delightful cocktail served in a lightbulb bottle.
Putting her bookmarked copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird' down, she noticed a young white man pass the big neon sign, which she'd thought had meant LOOF until Norman informed her the characters denoted something like 'fine, sunny weather'. The man passed her and sat on the far side of the counter. He ordered a double shot of whiskey and took out his phone.
She took out her phone as well and navigated to the browser, there had been something she'd wanted to look up... her eyes kept wandering back over to him. Dirty blonde hair, blue or maybe grey eyes. As she searched, she sucked on the pink and white straw, tasting too little marshmallow gin, and too much raspberry liqueur, but nevermind... Norman looked bummed enough. She returned her gaze to the young white man. If she had to guess, she'd say he was French.
He looked up, looked right at her, and smiled. She smiled back. Putting down his phone, he then lifted his glass and nodded, his teeth grazed over his full lower lip. It was too easy. Returning a smile that displayed her own fine set of teeth, Cecilia got up and went over to sit beside him, taking her drink with her.
*
The first thing Simon's eyes latched on to when he tapped the little green circle was the nails of his fiancΓ©e, perfectly trimmed and painted, wrapped around a sausage of a penis. Moving a loose strand back with her free hand, Cecilia's eyes met his for a moment before she shifted her gaze up, up to the man's cock she had just started sucking.
Maybe she's been sucking him for hours, he thought. Radio silence since before mass time. Glistening, glittering nails, sticky fingers. The engagement ring, he'd glimpsed it for only a second.
She was throating him, but he wouldn't go in more than two thirds of the way.
Up and down she licked, and when she brought her tongue up to the head and tried to put it in her mouth again... Jesus, it made her teeth look tiny.
Simon moved to say something, anything, even a customary "hi, honey!" and found that he was on mute.
For the first time, he realised that they were in public. There was a white riser behind them, the silver handle appearing and disappearing as the blushing girl bobbed her head, cramming the big pole down her gullet. A sign above her head like a halo that indicated "3rd floor", with kitschy sunflowers in the background.
This bastard hasn't even brought her into his home yet, Simon thought. But, here she was anyway, already down to nothing but her blue panties. He remembered the early morning selfie... all blue. Dress and sneakers. Nothing left of that outfit now, save for panties, ring, and the silver cross dangling from her neck.
She was lapping at his balls, bouncing them lightly with her little brush of a tongue, like they were snowflakes, or ping-pong balls. Her ring hand playing with the tiny turquoise bow at the brim of her panties, as her mouth moved over the length of his cock, left to right across his screen, trying to force more of it down her throat. Simon focused on her undulating body, so petite that her ribcage could be seen, and further down the perverse little bow, fluttering. The shimmer of her nails caught his eye again, all red save for the one on her ring finger, which had been painted a metallic silver.
Long dark and straight black hair trailed over one of her breasts; on the other he saw the bikini tan line, her very erect nipple. Simon had always liked Cecilia's tits, everybody knew this. Even back when they were in school, it was obvious that she had grown up a little quicker than the rest. She's skinny, sure, all the boys agreed, with a garden-variety flat ass, but have you seen how prominent her chest is, practically poking out her uniform? even when she's not bending over, and her back's perfectly straight?
It was a great view, and she was really giving it to him. Well, not really, because now he was giving it to her. Whitey was ramming something fierce; he had his hands on her hair, on the back of her head, pushing. And in the corner a twinkling star, the polished shine of the ring as her hand grabbed at her ass, massaging it. Simon watched her eyes shut, and though full up he saw her mouth expand, as if her body had suddenly found a novel way of imbibing more oxygen. To her the seconds must be passing so slowly, he thought in awe, small eternities spent gasping, waiting, obedient in lustful suffering...
Then he yanked her off his cock and she rocked back slightly, before promptly beginning to choke and cough and sputter saliva all over herself and her man's Uniqlo chinos. Simon was certain they were from Uniqlo, because he had the same pair.