It was September in Brighton and the Summer and me were each trying to hang on to our former heat and brightness. But time for both of us was running out, clouds were creeping across the vivid blue sky and also across my dreams and expectations.
My summer affair was cooling, I was certain of it. And that was why I was in this restaurant with Claire. For weeks, while my girlfriend spent the day at work, I had been in the flat, fooling around on Gaydargirl, the lesbian website. I was chatting and flirting, the usual stuff, fantasy fucking if you have to be exact. And then Claire sent me a message.
We chatted. She was married, she said, but was keen to explore new sexual horizons. I'm bisexual and I've been there. So, I said, I could totally understand her feelings. Her husband was sympathetic, she said, and, no. this wasn't one of those "Cpl43sums". That's the sort of polite shit you start with on Gaydar, very English perhaps, as you both cautiously circle each other in print.
The chat got more explicit. Her profile had pics of her in very tight shorts. So I remarked, somewhat graphically, about just why I found these images so interesting. In return, she sent me more pics, this time of her in a thong bikini on a windswept, stony beach. We chatted for hours and by now we were e-mailing. As our words got more intimite so did her pictures. She professed that pubic mounds turned her on, and that she loved spying on the bulges in women's bikini bottoms. As proof of her obsession I was getting close-up shots of her naked body sent just minutes after she'd taken them. Then one morning, she included her phone number.
"Claire?"
(sexy laugh) "That you babe?"
"MMMMMmmmmm Hi!"
And so here we are in Boardwalk, a beachside bar and restaurant. Two women in their 30's lunching alongside other women in their 30's - mums out shopping, friends meeting, several out with some man, in groups - a typical crowd. And who would guess by looking at us that we were any different? Who would imagine that our joint aim was to get into each other's pants.
Even our clothes didn't set us apart. Both in the Autumn look of tweedy jackets, low-slung jeans, cropped tops and very pointy shoes. And if you'd listened to our conversation you'd have guessed that two old friends, who had been apart for a while, were catching up. Both a little breathless with the excitement of the meeting.
We chatted through the usual stuff that people, who've only spoken by mail, use to get to know each other personally. Claire was more intense than I had imagined, a little humourless but she laughed at my jokes, so that was OK.
But while our mouths moved, our eyes talked a different language. As I walked to the bar to order cocktails I could literally feel Claire's gaze, taking in my hair, my bum and my legs. As I walked back, she rested her chin on her hand and her eyes flashed up and down, as if mentally stripping me naked.
We played with our salads and absentmindedly drank some wine whilst wholeheartedly drinking in each other's sexuality. In the flesh, Claire was handsome rather than beautiful, her tits were small but she was bra-less under her top and seemingly oblivious to the occasional exposure of a nipple. But her arse was awesome. If I was honest, it was what really caught my attention in her first pics. It was firm and round, jutting out slightly and gripped by her 'sprayed-on' jeans. As she left the table to pee, I watched it sway across the room, as did one or two others in the room, because it was that impressive. Then she teasingly looked over her shoulder cooly catching my gaze with a grin. Her white thong crept above the waistband of her jeans, hinting at the pleasures below.
The tables were close so our spoken conversation was pretty conservative: men, films, TV and back history. But, after a quick look round, I mouthed the words "I really fancy you" and she mouthed back "I want to fuck you".
And then it was the moment. The waiter asked if we wanted coffee. I looked straight into her eyes.
"Well, what do you think? We could always have coffee at my place" I said innocently.
"What a good idea, I'd love to see your flat" she replied in a matter-of-fact way. And I felt that tingle in my cunt.
But later, after that disturbing afternoon, I though back to this moment. Was there something she'd read into my manner? Had I missed the clues in her apparently harmless chatter? Had she interpreted some secret sign in my lusting eyes?
However all seemed normal as we walked back to the flat. We were a little pissed and giggled but, even in tolerant Brighton, we kept our hands and our feelings to ourselves.
Then, as two elegant women, we were in the hall of the flat, me reaching into my handbag for the key. The door closed and we became randy kids. Our lips locked, our tongues entwined and our hands explored the places our minds had been occupied with over lunch.
I wanted Claire badly. I sucked on her tongue and my hands gripped her bum cheeks. I'd had dreamed of this arse and now it was mine to play with. My fingertips probed into her crack prising her cheeks apart. She ran her fingers through my hair and for a second tightened her hands around my throat drawing me closer to her hooligan tongue. I caught my breath and let go of her arse. My reaction seemed to snap her out of some revelry and she looked keenly into my eyes then kissed me again.
I wanted Claire naked. She was panting and for a second she pulled away from my lips. Then grinning she slid the palm of her hand down into my jeans. Low slung pants make entry so easy and in seconds her fingers had slid down under my knickers, and true to her promised obsession she grasped the fleshiness of my pubic mound and squeezed it.
She stared at me, licked her lips and then her fingers played with my bush, tugging it rather painfully and then her forefinger moved down between my cunt lips.
Claire had made it clear, this wasn't just a kiss and a feel, we were going to fuck. God, I wanted her naked.
"Let's fuck" I said.
Her fingers probed deeper. "Let's make it special babe" she said, "I think you'll like it if I make it special" And, then she slowly pulled a finger out and sucked on it.
"Oh yes, let's make it fucking special" I said, not having the faintest idea what she meant. But then this was the kind of impolite shit people say before they start just sighing and moaning.
I led Claire to the bedroom. To be honest I'd expected her to be a bit nervous, a bit naive, after all I imagined this to have been a new experience for her, if not the first time she'd ever had sex with a woman. But she seemed confident, enthusiastic, taking the lead in fact.
But that was great, and why not, she'd fucked men for years. I slipped off my top and my jeans, while she watched. Then her jeans dropped around her ankles and her top slipped off and we stood before each other.
Two women in their 30's in their expensive underwear on a Brighton afternoon. Her body was like her pics, tanned with muscled arms and thighs, statuesque you might say. She just wore a white cotton thong, it fitted close and outlined her cunt lips but in the bedroom mirror I also saw the reflection of her bare arse cheeks, big, jutting and tanned. Mine to grip, to lick, to explore, to bite - to thoroughly enjoy.
"I think your bum is fucking stunning" I said.
She smiled at me, "I know you do, babe". She gave me a quizzical look and said the words that haunted me later. " You're going to get to know my arse really well"
"Ohhh pleeeeease" I teased her. "Pleeeese Claire"
She smiled thinly. "OK" she said " lets get you naked".
