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This is my first ever attempt at erotic writing; indeed my first attempt at writing for publication. I hope you enjoy. I didn’t use an editor this time, mistakes are all my own. Please be kind and constructive in the comments.

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Charlie was in a playful mood. She’d just finished painting a mural of sunflowers on her bedroom wall. Not that she should have done; her landlord would be furious, but she’d flirt with him with a vague promise to paint over it when she moved out. It wouldn’t be a problem. She was aware of the effect of her femininity on people, something currently amplified by a crop top and flowing skirt, cut to mid thigh. As was completely typical of her, she was very late to the party, one of many that would punctuate the summer. She carried with her a bottle of home made mead; these had been a product of a short dalliance with a beekeeper a couple of years ago. She’d made it for that Christmas, but found out the hard way that it needed at least a year to reach maturity before it became drinkable. Forgotten at the back of a cupboard, she’d found it when looking for paintbrushes. It was perfect for the warm summer evening; a rare sunny August bank holiday weekend.

The party, held at the house of one of her extended loose groups of friends was hot and loud. To enter through the front door was to push through from the world of cool evening air into the conversation, music and dancing of another universe; like pushing through some metaphysical curtain. She moved through the party towards the kitchen, acknowledging her friends and acquaintances as she passed through the house. On the way she spotted the back door open as the party had spilled out into the soft August air. Snatching an empty glass and still carrying the mead, she headed for the relative calm of the garden.

She didn’t see him, at first. He was lost in the crowd, just another stranger in the dark. Drink in hand and mead deposited, Charlie joined a group that included her ex-girlfriend Emily, with whom she was on good, invariably flirty terms. They acknowledged one another with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t think you’ve met Andrew yet, have you?” Said Emily, nestling up to a tall, dark haired man. He was more smartly dressed than anyone else at the party, wearing a jacket and an actual waistcoat, which exaggerated the width of his shoulders. He had an air of having walked out of another century and seemed ill at ease.

Emily laughed. She had remembered that Charlie could never resist a ‘diffident chap’. She was matchmaking, again.

“Andrew, this is my good friend, Charlie. You can call her Charlotte, if she’s been a bad girl.”

Charlie looked up at Andrew, meeting a blue eyed gaze and shy smile. He quickly lowered his eyes in an endearing, boyish gesture.

“Hi, Andrew.” She said, a playful edge in her voice. “Don’t listen to Emily. She’s just stirring, aren’t you, Em?”

Andrew was looking at her again, his expression amused.

“So, you’re never a bad girl, then?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Emily glanced between them both.

“I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

And she moved off, taking the rest of the crowd with her, leaving them alone.

Andrew was once more looking shy. Poor bloke. She would have to do the ice-breaking.

“So, Andrew.”

“So, Charlie. Or is it Charlotte?”

“Only my mother calls me Charlotte. When she tells me off.” She looked up at Andrew, searching those deep blue eyes and finding a spark of light in their depths.

He cleared his throat.

“Convention would suggest at this point, Charlie, that I ask you what you do.”

“A big fan of convention, are you?”

“Not at all. In fact, I was wondering if you would like to dispense with convention, altogether.”

Charlie moved a little closer to him. He smelled like fresh laundry, clean and innocent.

“Now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

Andrew offered her his arm. Very chivalrous.

“Fancy a walk?” He said.

She grinned at him.

“I should very much like to take a turn with you, good sir.”

“Taking the piss?”

“Only a bit.”

As they walked, he told her something about himself. He was an engineer, doing his post-grad.

“Hence the exhausted, hang-dog expression. I’ve been working my guts out. And, to be fair, I’m not really a party guy.”

She looked up at him, his face shadowed in the half light.

“I thought you looked kind of sad.”

He laughed.

“Well, that, too.”

“Dumped you, canlı bahis şirketleri did she?”

“She did. Broke my poor engineer heart.”

She slipped her hand into his. The warm contact in the dark sent a fluid rush all through her.

“Hearts can mend.”

Leaving the path, she led him into the park. He didn’t resist.

Charlie’s heart was pounding. She lead him into the closeness of the trees. She could hear his breathing in the dark, coming short and shallow. Turning her to him, he grasped the back of her head, finding her mouth, kissing her with fierce urgency. His hands slid up and down her whole body, making her gasp, then inside her top. Her nipple tensed against the sudden warmth of his palm, his flesh on hers, opening her up to his exploration. His hungry mouth against her neck, he pushed her against a tree, sharp in her back and shoulder blades. She slid her hands across his heaving chest and down, feeling him hard.

“I want you.” She breathed into his ear.

He turned her around; She smiled at his moan of surprise as his fingers failed to encounter any knickers. She was more than ready for him and he entered her with a small cry. She cradled her face against her arms – protecting it from the roughness of the bark – as he thrust inside her. They quickly gathered a rhythm as their momentum built. Deeper and faster, until she heard his long, low moan, feeling him contact inside her. He fell against her back, breathing hard.

“Better?” She said.

“Better.”

He slid down onto the soft grass at the base of the tree. It was a tree that had probably seen a lot of carnal activity, over the years.

She shuck her top and knelt down taking him into her mouth. She was not finished. His cry of surprise was quickly replaced by moans of building pleasure. She pulled his top off and removed her skirt as he slid his trousers down and off his ankles. She mounted him, her desires not yet close to being sated. Her pleasure rising, Andrew’s hands traced up her sides and she clasped them to her breasts, her nipples pushing against his palms.

“Pinch them. Hard!” He obliged and her centre exploded in pleasure.

As she lay on him, basking in the afterglow, she wondered why no one had investigated the noise. She had not been quiet.

Looking down at her he said: “So, Charlie. What do you do, then?”

She chuckled.

“What – apart from fuck strangers in the park?”

“Yes. Apart from that. I meant for a living.”

“What I do is paint. That’s my thing. What I do for a living, is something else. I didn’t want to tell you before, in case it put you off.”

“Are you a serial killer?”

“Close. I’m an estate agent. Are you put off, then?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, right. Not that I’m expecting much.”

“What are you expecting?”

She stretched up and kissed his cheek.

“For you to walk me home like the gentleman you are and never contact me, again.”

Charlie could tell from his silence that she was right.

*****

Andrew found the restaurant, a small, dodgy looking establishment half way along a darkened side street. The kind of street where you might get stabbed to death. Avoiding this fate, he went in through the door. The lighting was low, the music hypnotic. Turkish, apparently.

Sophie had suggested coming here, when she called him. They had met a week ago, at the same party that ended with his rather out-of-character dalliance with Charlie in the park. He didn’t intend to mention this to Sophie and hoped no-one had told her.

He hadn’t expected to hear from Sophie. They had swapped numbers as people do at parties when they’ve had a few but was pleased to hear her voice on the other end of the line, sweet and nervous. Sophie was far more his type than Charlie. Charlie would eat him for breakfast, spread thinly on her toast.

“Can I help you, Sir?” A greasy looking waiter asked him, in what had to be a fake Turkish accent. Andrew looked around the low lit room and spotted Sophie, sitting at a table in the corner, nursing a glass of wine.

“I’m with the young lady over there.”

“Very good, Sir.” Said the waiter indulgently. He almost winked.

Andrew ordered a whisky and water and walked over to the table.

“Hello.” He said.

She looked up and smiled. She was pretty; he had forgotten how pretty. Large, shiny dark eyes, like coal that has been left out in the rain, fresh, pink cheeked skin, softly mouldy lips that had been made to smile. She was playing with her canlı kaçak iddaa hair, fingering a soft brownish curl.

“Hi, Andrew. I wasn’t sure of you’d come.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I thought you were the prettiest girl at the party.”

“Really?”

He told himself off for sounding shallow. And probably insincere.

“As well as the nicest. I was really pleased when you called.”

“Really?” She said, again.

She was obviously nervous. The skin of her neck was flushed, extending down inside her dress, with its small, sweet glimpse of cleavage. Aware that he shouldn’t really be looking at her breasts this early in the evening, he lifted his gaze back up to her face and those pretty eyes. He smiled his encouragement.

“What do you do, Sophie?”

“I’m an accountant.” She flushed. “I know. Very boring.”

“And lucrative.” He said. “Nothing wrong with that. Do you enjoy it?”

She shrugged and he worried that he had failed to contradict the ‘boring’ part of her job description.

“It’s ok I guess. I’ve always been good with numbers, so it made sense to earn a living doing it.”

“Me, too. Hopefully, I’ll be able to earn a living, once I get my Masters.”

He was gratified to see that she looked impressed.

“So, you’re a student, then?”

“Yes. Complete with loans and overdraft.”

She took a delicate sip of her wine.

“I remember it well.” She smiled, spreading warmth all over her face. She really was very pretty.

Over dinner – he ordered a tagine type dish, swimming in grease, but totally delicious – he ended up telling her a lot about himself. After some prompting from her and encouraged by the gentleness of her smile, he opened up about his ex. Normally, he didn’t like to talk about Alice. It all still felt too raw. He had worked hard to blank the memory of the morning she left him, dumping her keys noisily on the kitchen table. His friends tactfully didn’t mention her name. She only re-surfaced in dreams, sometimes teasing, sometimes vengeful.

“So, what went wrong?” Sophie asked, softly.

“Not sure, really. It just seemed to run its course.” He sighed. “The truth is, I felt more for her than she did for me.”

Sophie’s bright eyes clouded.

“She wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.”

“I guess. I found that out the hard way.”

“Is there ever an easy way?”

The dodgy waiter came over to ask if they wanted to look at the dessert menu.

He looked shyly at Sophie.

“Shall we just get the bill?”

She smiled, encouragingly, “If you like.”

He thought that she understood what he meant. When the bill arrived she got out her wallet, but he laid his hand over hers. Her skin was soft under his fingers.

“I’ll get this.” He said.

They got a taxi back to his place. He hoped he’d remembered to make his bed. She held his hand shyly in the taxi, her fingers limp in his. He frowned, thinking that she hadn’t shared anything about herself over the meal, when he had laid himself bare. There was something about her that invited intimacies.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the softness of her naked body under his hands…

He paid the taxi and she followed him into the flat. Making her a coffee, he invited her to sit down on his rather shabby, second hand settee and worried that she might find one of his dirty socks lurking there. He joined her, sitting close, but not too close.

“Tell me about yourself, Sophie.”

She shrugged.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m a Maths graduate.”

“Which university?”

“Oxford.”

“Don’t tell me: you got a First.”

She blushed.

“I did. Well, I didn’t have much else going on.”

“No boyfriends?”

“A few. You know how it is.”

He touched her cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers.

“Bad relationship?”

She didn’t reply. Just nodded.

He leaned towards her. She didn’t pull away. Taking her face gently in his hands, he kissed her soft, moist mouth, tasting her. She gave a small moan, straining towards him. Sliding his hands along her back, he pulled her in closer, parting her lips with his own, loving the small firmness of her breasts pressing against him. She guided his hand there gently. Eager at her invitation, he slipped his fingers inside her dress and bra, feeling the intimate warmth of her flesh…

Abruptly, she pulled away. Her hand over her mouth, she stared at him, her dark eyes round with shock.

“Sorry…” She said. “I… can’t. Sorry.”

“Too soon?” canlı kaçak bahis He whispered.

“Yes. Sorry.”

She stood up, pulling down her rucked up dress. She was walking towards the door.

He followed, saying:

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to rush you. Can I see you again, another evening?”

At the door she stopped, turning to him with a sad smile.

“No. I don’t think so.”

And then she was gone.

*****

Sophie has had enough of being left behind. She had really liked Andrew. Not only was he gorgeous, with those big blue eyes and kind smile, but she’d been drawn to his conversation. It was comfortable and natural in a way she’d not experienced before. He’d not been like the other boys she had dated, and she’d relaxed into his company and indeed his arms by the end of the evening. She’d invited his hand on her breast, so why had she run away when he’d accepted that invitation? His hand had felt so good. She hated herself for not accepting what she had desperately wanted.

Unlike her controlling ex, Andrew was open and kind. Why couldn’t she get over it? Thinking about it, it was a reaction to her ex that had led to an encounter with a woman at another party, the weekend after her date with Andrew. She’d drunk too much, trying to overcome her nervousness around men, and found herself piled into a taxi with a woman she’d only just met. Charlie, her name was. She was all loose hair and flowing flowery skirt and a very low top.

Somehow, Sophie had ended up with another drink on another stranger’s sofa, knowing once again that she was desired.

She blushed, now, remembering Charlie’s hand on her thigh, the playful bob of her vivid red hair and the burning focus of those strange, pale eyes.

“Do you want to?” Charlie had said.

Sophie had never done anything like this, before, but found herself gazing into Charlie’s eyes and nodding.

“Yes. Please… though I’ve not kissed…” her words for stopped by Charlie’s soft lips. She groaned as Charlie’s tongue joined them in pillaging her mouth.

She found herself gently removed of her clothes, with kisses replacing them as each square inch was revealed. Charlie’s top had not only been low cut, she’d omitted underwear too. Her breasts and nipples had dragged over her’s as her mouth traced a line from her lips to between her legs.

Every touch was a first; her desire, heated by the wine she had consumed and the need to be touched, overcame any complaint. Her hands grasped the back of Charlie’s head as Charlie’s tongue teased between her legs.

What followed was a raging fire that would not be put out. She found herself driven to peaks of pleasure. “Yes…” should found herself saying.

She was overcome with a need to return the compliment, pulling off Charlie’s skirt (no underwear here either) and diving down between her legs.

“Slow down!” Charlie suggested, laughing. Sophie looked, Charlie’s face framed between the points of her breasts. She grinned, “Sorry!” She lowered her face once more, taking only a little longer to rouse Charlie to a shout of her own.

Holding her close during a brief lull in their lovemaking Sophie had marvelled at the feel of Charlie’s soft skin against her own. Was she a lesbian? She didn’t think so. But at that moment, it felt right to be pressed against another woman, certainly one as gorgeous as Charlie.

Reviving her memories while sitting at home, alone again, Sophie made a decision: She must see Andrew again. It might not be anything other than a one time thing, though she hoped not.

She wanted to prove to Andrew and herself that she wasn’t just a mousy haired accountant. She rifled through her wardrobe looking for something that could not be ignored. An open invitation for him to take her. Her earlier thoughts about her lesbian tryst and Andrew’s hand touching her skin finally made her mind up for her. She grabbed a coat and covered her naked body. The feeling of the smooth lining brushing against her skin fueled her arousal overcoming her fear and, grabbing some heels and her keys, she rushed out of the door.

The drive to Andrew’s house was not long enough for doubts to set in; it was not until she was outside his flat that she began to wonder if this was such a good idea.

Hesitating by the door, she took a deep breath and knocked. All was quiet and she was about to knock again, when the door opened. She rushed straight in and, seeing Andrew ahead of her, dropped her coat, revealing her nakedness to him.

Somebody else had opened the door. Not Andrew…

Blushing bright red, she spun around to see an equally naked Charlie holding out a glass of wine towards her. “Hello, Sophie! Long time, no see. Come to join in? That will really make it fun!”

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