Annabelle And James Pt 03

Annabelle and James: Part III

The Storm is With Us

Prelude

Annabelle will sit on the deck of a little boutique café. She will look out across the harbour, at the white sailed boats passing each other by. She will be aware of the way her heart thrums in her chest, the tell-tale tingle in her fingertips betraying her anxiety. Her excitement.

She will hear her phone receive a message, and will excitedly look to it, before remembering that the person she's hoping is texting doesn't have her number. Instead she will see the name 'Oscar'.

He will say -- I'm coming around tonight. You up for it?

She will feel a sad, shameful pull at her heart, and text back -- Not tonight. Sorry.

A moment later, another text -- You away for a seminar or something?

She will consider lying. Instead, she will say -- No.

She will turn her phone off, and when she looks up she will see the person she was waiting for. Her heart will flush with joy, and she will wave him over, feeling like the young girl from decades ago, before Oscar...

Lunch

I slept with Annabelle on a Monday evening. We fell to the floor, clawed and pulled at one another, and eventually settled into a long, sweaty embrace on the scratchy carpet, looking out on the city harbour. After our bodies had cooled, we got to our feet and dressed. We exchanged one long, final kiss at the door before Annabelle opened it, and we had to go back to what we were before: a university a lecturer, and one of her students. She sent me ahead, and I didn't see her again until the following Friday. Four days of wondering if it would happen again, of wondering if she regretted it, of hoping I hadn't made some enormous mistake. Four nights of lying in bed, thinking about the curves of her body, the warmth of her mouth and the ragged way she panted after she came. Of touching myself to those thoughts...

Friday came, and when I stepped into her classroom, we made brief eye contact, before she looked away furtively. My heart sank, and I started to prepare myself for the conversation I was sure was coming. It was a mistake, it was dangerous, it can't happen again.

I was surprised when partway through the lesson, during a quiet moment while we were meant to be studying for the nearing exams, she called to me. "James, would you like to talk about the email you sent me? I have found some resources that might help you."

I looked up with a start, and saw her standing by the door. She was looking me straight in the eye, and smiling. She was wearing pants today, and a jacket over her blouse. I wondered if she had decided to dress more conservatively, to try not to encourage me further.

Once outside, the classroom door closed, she looked quickly around at the empty corridor, then asked, "Would you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

I blinked. Rather stupidly. "Uhm."

She waited patiently, a small furrow in her brow. Concern? Anxiety?

I nodded, "Uh, yeah. I'd really like that. Where would-"

She was already pressing a piece of paper into my hand. The sudden touch of her skin sent a jolt to my stomach, and her fingers lingered, knuckles brushing against my palm.

"We can talk then," she said quietly. I felt her thumb run over the inside of my wrist, light and almost unbearable. "Don't be late," she whispered. Then turned away, leaving me stunned in the corridor.

The note went straight into my pocket and didn't come out until I was on the train home, hours later. The entire time I had felt it there, sitting like a lead weight. I finally unfurled it, and found her clean, looping handwriting:

The Boatshed in Swansea. 12:30. I'll be sitting on the deck.

She had drawn a little heart underneath.

I couldn't help smiling down at it. I suddenly felt very excited for the weekend.

I spent a ridiculous hour in front of the mirror, fretting about what to wear. Ordinarily I didn't stress about that sort of thing, but this would be Annabelle's first time seeing me outside of a classroom. What did I want her to see?

The button up blue shirt, to show I clean up nicely? No, too much of an affectation.

The bowler shirt? No, too casual.

The sleeveless... forget it, absolutely not.

I tried to simplify it. Jeans. Clean, maroon t-shirt. Boots. What did all that say about me outside of class? I couldn't tell you, I was too close to running late at this point to care.

The place she had asked to meet me was a forty-five minute drive south, taking me out of the city. Swansea was a small touristy village on the coast, and it was a perfect day to visit, with the sun out, balanced by a soft cool wind. I did see dark clouds in the rearview mirror, but they were well away. I didn't think it was likely we would catch any rain, not for hours at least.

Pulling up to The Boatshed I started to feel under dressed. It was clearly a very nice café, and scuffed boots and a t-shirt suddenly felt inappropriate. I tried not to feel self-conscious parking my paint-peeling Kia beside a pristine, white Tesla. I was extremely careful opening my door though. I didn't think I'd financially recover from dinting that car.

The Boatshed hung out over the harbor, with a polished deck for outdoor seating. The planks thudded nicely under my boots as I stepped onto it, and after a moment I spotted her. Annabelle was at a table in the corner, wearing a rich blue dress that stopped just short of her knees, revealing much of her long, toned legs. She was frowning down at her phone when I first spotted her, then put it away in her bag. She looked up and spotted me, and the frown vanished and was replaced by a wide smile and a beckoning wave. She stood as I walked over, and I thought at first she was just being polite, but as I approached she came around the table and gave me a quick, warm hug, followed by a peck on the cheek. My freshly shaven skin tingled where she kissed me, and I felt a flutter in my chest. She pulled back, smiling, then the smile changed, turned to something more serious. As far as I can tell, we both felt the same pull, and we followed our chaste initial exchange with a full, warm kiss. After, she sighed with pleasure, and said, "It's good to see you, James. Sit with me."

I sat across from her, and we found ourselves both grinning like idiots. After a moment she broke away, looking to the menu, "Have you been here before?"

I laughed, "No, no. I normally eat somewhere with more tradies and less," I waved a hand around, "parasols."

"Ah," she nodded, "Well, this is my treat, so don't be shy."

"Oh... are you sure, I'm happy to cover myself."

She shot me a stern, but playful look. "If I want to take you to lunch, then that's what I'll do, mister. Understood?"

I blushed a little, shuffled in my seat and smiled. "Yes ma'am."

"Good boy."

Oh. That touched on something.

After ordering, we handed our menus off to the waiter -- something I had done maybe three times before in my life -- and settled in, looking at one another.

"So, I suppose we should talk about this," Annabelle said, while her foot gently caressed my ankle under the table.

I nodded, "I guess, yeah. I was worried you were going to tell me we had to stop but," I shot a glance down at the table, indicating her flirty foot, "I assume that's not what's happening here?"

The wicked look in her eye faded a little. Her foot left my ankle, and she folded one hand over the other, one thumb tracing a circle on her skin. After a moment, she said, "Is that what you want?"

"Oh, no, no, I-"

"Because if it is," she cut me off, "I completely understand. You're a young, good looking man, and I'm... well... I'm not your peer. I could see you enjoying the moment, but then wanting to go back to what you know..." she looked down at her hands. "And I've really put you in a hard position. You might think your grade is in jeopardy, that I'm going to leverage it against you... God, you'd be within your rights to think the worst of me, some old woman preying on-"

It was my turn to cut her off. I reached forward and took one of her hands in mine.

She looked up, her usual confidence covered over by a film of anxiety.

"Monday," I said, "Was the best sex I've ever had. The hottest moment of my life. I don't regret it for a second. And I would really... really..." I lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on the spot where she had been drawing circles, "... like to see more of you."

That anxious film began to melt away, and she blushed and looked away a moment. When she looked back, she said, "I'd like that to."

By the time our lunch arrived, we were discussing details. We didn't notice the dark clouds quickly bearing down on the harbour.

"Nothing in emails," Annabelle said, "Not even coded messages. And definitely no phone contact, it's just too risky, if someone got suspicious and they did some kind of investigation. And obviously we can't keep having little meetings during and after class."

"Sooo, how do we figure out when we're going to see each other?"

"Well, I might have an idea for that." She leaned forward, "See these earrings?"

I looked. They were simple studs, but set with a brilliant blue gemstone that matched her dress. Then I got a little distracted, thinking about sucking on her earlobe. I blinked, trying to get back on task, and said, "Yes."

"I'll wear these if I'd like to meet that day. Is there something you could wear to send the same signal?"

I thought for a moment. "Yeah, actually. I have this necklace, just a normal silver one with a pendant, a Celtic knot. So, if we both turn up wearing those, that means we both want to meet later?"

She nodded.

"What if only one of us is wearing their signal?"

She shrugged, "Then just assume the other person can't do that day. And we wait for the next chance."

I smiled, "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you."

She gave me a crooked smile in return, and arched an eyebrow. "Haven't you?"

I leaned forward, "Actually... mostly I've been thinking about making you cum again."

She drew a breath, bit back on her tongue. She leaned back, acting cool, betrayed by her red cheeks.

"Small problem," I said, leaning back as well. "We only have class together Mondays and Fridays. You only want to meet those days?"

"No, but I have a solution for that too," she said. On the days we don't have class, we both go to the kitchenette on the second floor. It's just down from my staffroom, and across from the library. We both use the kitchenette at two in the afternoon, and that will give us a perfectly acceptable reason to be near each other, and see if we're wearing the signs. We just can't speak to one another. What do you think?"

The fact was, the idea of sneaking around with this beautiful, assured older woman was extremely exciting to me. "Sounds like a good plan to me. So, when and where would we meet?"

"Well... I thought we could meet during the evenings... at my house?" Annabelle watched me, hesitant.

I just nodded, "So, your house. Eight at night?"

She smiled and nodded. "I'll give you my address before we finish up here."

Lunch was finished, the sky had become overtaken by thick, slate clouds, and we were contemplating ordering something sweet when thunder suddenly cracked above us. Several of the patrons, including us jumped, and a few people made mumbled comments. Then, just as suddenly as the thunder had erupted, a wall of water came down on us. Within seconds, the deck was soaked, and people were scrambling to get into the restaurant, while staff members rushed out to start packing down things down. Annabelle and I were two of the last to get inside, and we were soaked to the bone. Beneath the din of the manager trying to organise new tables for the displaced customers, and the angriest of the customers already calling for refunds, we looked at one another. Her hair had been tamped down by the rain, and her dress was clinging to her long figure. Droplets twinkled on her chest as she breathed, and her nipples were beginning to show through the fabric. I caught her own eyes looking me up and down, and I realised we were holding hands. Under the cover of chaos, she pulled me close and said, "Follow me."

She pulled me towards the exit, completely unnoticed, and we ran back out into the rain. I heard her laughing as we dashed over to a grey, luxury four-wheel-drive. She pulled keys out of her purse, and the lights on the truck flashed. She pulled open the back door and jumped in, still giggling, and I followed her. No sooner had I pulled the door closed, pushing the roar of the rain back to a dull growl, than she was in my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips kissing my mouth hard, the way she had in the classroom. Instantly I began to feel heat rushing to my groin, and I let my hands roam over her body. The dress was chilled from the rain, but I could feel heat radiating from underneath.

She finally broke the kiss, and sighed, "I just couldn't wait any longer."

"I'm glad you didn't," I leaned forward and kissed her chest.

"I'd say we've got about," she thought a moment, slipping the straps of her dress down off her shoulders and pulling her arms free, "twenty minutes before things calm down and they realise they're missing a pair of diners, and assume we ditched on the bill. If we show up about then," she pulled the front of her dress down, grabbed the back of my head and brought my mouth to her warm, pert nipple, "hah, fuck... if we show up about then, we can tell them we thought we had jackets in the car, and spent the time looking for them. Then we can pay, leave and... ungh... I think it would be easier to just show you where I live, don't you James?"

I pulled my mouth free, and looked dreamily up at her, "I couldn't agree more."

"Gooood. Now," she leaned forward, cupping my chin with her hand, the ends of her nails tickling my cheek, "I haven't cum in the backseat of a car in twenty years. Fix it."

I growled and twisted, tossing her onto her back, on the seat. I gave myself a moment to be grateful for the spacious truck, even if Annabelle's owning it confused me, before I pushed her dress up to her hips and dove down to lick at her pussy.

As spacious as it was, things were still a little cramped at first. Annabelle's head was pushed up against the door, forcing her to bend her neck all the way to look down at me. Meanwhile I had to have my legs tucked underneath me, forcing me to lean down at an awkward angle to get my mouth to her pussy. But once my swept past her lips and tasted the red, hot depth beyond, and her aggressive moans and grunts started filling the car, I didn't care. One arm constantly locked around her thigh, pinning her pussy to my mouth, I tongue fucked her and teased her clit, vocalising my deep pleasure at the taste of her. Soon I had managed to tuck my other arm into my ribs so I could slip my fingers inside. Those moans and grunts shifted into a long, guttural growl, interspersed occasionally with a "Hah!" or a "Fuck!"

Soon her thighs locked around my head, and she bucked hard up into my mouth, yelling, "Yes, yes, yes! James, FUCK!"

Unlike the first time I had made her cum, she didn't drop slowly away from her orgasm. She seemed to intentionally finish it with a rough, intense twist of her hips. When I looked up -- my back crying with relief -- and saw her flushed, sweating face, hair plastered to the side of her head -- I felt a rush of lust more intense than I could ever remember. She answered whatever my expression became with a nod, and the words, "Get that cock out for me sweetie."

She manoeuvred me into a sitting position in the middle of the seat, while I fumbled with the front of my pants. The moment my cock was free she was bent over me, inhaling it like it was the only thing that could keep her alive. She went down on me hard, and deep, and fast, quickly coating me in a thick layer of hot spit. After maybe a minute of the most aggressive blowjob I'd ever received, she pulled back, as if observing her handywork. Then she spat a last bit of saliva on the tip. I couldn't believe it, I never would have imagined Annabelle Miller doing something so... nasty.

It made my cock twitch.

She smirked, then got in front of me. She was facing the front of the car, ripping her dress the rest of the way off, and grabbing the driver's seat with one hand, while reaching back between her legs with the other. She wrapped her fingers around my cock, and positioned it carefully, before lowering herself down. She let out another deep, guttural moan as her pussy sunk all the way down to my hips, completely swallowing my cock. For my part, I was panting hard, staring slack jawed down at her ass.

She grabbed the other seat, holding herself steady, looked over her shoulder, and said, "Fuck me hard. Fill me up."

I took a single second to be in awe of the contours of her back, before grabbing her hips and doing as she asked. Fog already coated the windows, and the air was thick. Soon it smelled of our sex, that rich, musky smell. And the sound was a mix of skin slapping, me growling and swearing, and her moaning. I fucked up into her, at one point grabbing hold of the front seats myself, my arms around her, in a sort of half squat behind her. I was able to hold this position for a good little while, pumping her hard as she bent over the centre console. Then when I had to sit again, her pussy followed my retreating cock, and she started to bounce herself. I held onto her hips, slick with sweat, and she let go of the seats. Sometimes her hands would be over mine, sometimes up in her hair, and sometimes pulling at her nipples as she bounced and writhed, apparently completely unconcerned with the volume of her cries.

Soon this all became too much, and I felt that familiar stirring. "Annabelle... I'm going to cum."

"Good," she panted, "Cum!" She started to lift and slam with long, deep swings of her ass. She would pull up almost enough for my cock to pop free, and ram herself back down. Each hit, each impact of that gorgeous, shining ass onto my pelvis pushed a more ragged grunt from me. Finally my fingers dug hard into her, and when she came down she started to grind down into me. My back arched and I tried not to be as loud, which resulted in a strangled cry. My cock, buried deeply inside this incredible woman's body erupted. Her pussy milked every drop, every spasm, every aftershock from my poor, savaged cock. She started to lift and drop her hips again, and I had to tap her on the ass and beg, "No... please... too sensitive."

I heard a dark chuckle, and she deliberately dropped her ass again before finally pulling free, excruciatingly slowly. She dropped onto the seat next to me, breathing heavily and her lips pulled into a permanent smile.

"Jesus," I panted.

"Mmmmm," she crooned in response.

As we settled, the sound of the storm outside seemed to creep in. But it didn't feel like an invasion. It felt like a barrier, protecting us from everything outside, everything that might try to stop what we were doing.

Looking into the foggy window, I thought, The storm is on our side.