LAID & BETRAYED (Getting wrong with Mr. Wright) by Chloe Thurlow Page A
Authors: Chloe Thurlow
Ads: Link
open for me. I stepped in and the sudden touch of his hand on my arm ma de me lurch forward against the steering wheel.
'You alright?'
'Yes, I'm fine, thank you.'
'Not nervous, or anything?'
'No, no, not at all.'
He swung his bag on the back seat and I felt a perfect idiot as I re positioned the rear-view mirror. He buckled himself in beside me and pushed back his seat to get more leg room . I turned the ignition key, touched the accelerator and the engine throb bed with impatience. It was hot , a heat haze rising off the cement.
I lowered the window to get some air as I joined the afternoon traffic.
' Is that al right? ' I said.
' I t's good for me , ' he replied.
I had only recently passed my test and drove slowly through the v illages dotting the countryside, lips tightly closed, my hands at ten to two on the steering wheel. I could feel his eyes on me, on my neck with its splash of colo r, my bare thighs, on my breasts pushing against the fabric of my blouse. M y body under his inspection gr ew sticky with embarrassment.
As I changed gear he watched m y legs dancing over the pedals. My skirt r ose over my thighs and my breasts tingled. That morning, after my shower, I had put my bra on, stared at myself in the mirror, then I t ook it off again. I rolled my nipples between my fingers until the sting made me grip my teeth in bliss. W ith those buds smarting and raw , I wriggled into the smallest, skimpiest most immodest little white blouse in the drawer. Having lost my holiday, if there was one thing I wanted to do that mo nth as an intern at Drew-Butler, it was sell a property and I ha d set out for work with butterflies in my tummy, determination in my step and a feeling that destiny was about to pay a visit.
This was my chance . Be cool. Be grown up. I turned momentarily.
' How do you like being an estate agent? ' he asked.
' It ' s only temporary, ' I replied.
' Ah, yes. The only permanence is change, ' he observ ed, his deep voice like the Bishop who had once given out books and trophies on prize day.
'I'm starting university after the summer.'
' Very sensible. What're you going study?'
'Literature,' I replied , and shrugged . 'All reading and dusty old books.'
'Don't forget to stop and smell the roses, you've got to have a bit of fun as well.'
'Don't worry, I inten d to … '
'Good for you , ' he said and patted my leg.
I swallowed hard and forced out a smile . It was my job to put the client at ease, but it was hard to know what to say. He had turned sideways in his seat and was openly examining my neck and breasts , so immodestly prominent with the seat belt dividing them. His eyes undressed me and the shameful thing was I didn't mind . My little fantasy before the bathroom mirror that morning wasn ' t exactly a first , it was becoming a ritual . There was a great big world out there. I was straining at the leash dying to plunge in at the deep end . Childhood is like a prison sentence. S ixth form was behind me and I felt like a freed slave sloughing off my shackles ready to run barefoot into the future. F ather was an unreconstructed Victorian, the school he had sent me to was famous for its strict discipline , and working with Mr. Butler made me feel like a Bob Cratchit in the Scrooge's office in A Christmas Carol .
As for my on/off boyfriend, Simon, that was definitively off . H e had taken off to go surfing after a blazing row that had brought me to tears and had made Simon so angry I'd thought he was going to hit me. Like me, he had been at boarding school , but we had spent holidays hanging out together since we were fifteen , the kissing growing to… well, just about everything except actually doing it.
It was Saturday afternoon. His parents were at a wedding in London and we were in his bedroom, my top off, the zip on my jeans down, his strong hands pulling at the denim, my legs crossed like we were in the midst of a bout of judo, at which I was a blue belt. He gave up and rolled off
'You alright?'
'Yes, I'm fine, thank you.'
'Not nervous, or anything?'
'No, no, not at all.'
He swung his bag on the back seat and I felt a perfect idiot as I re positioned the rear-view mirror. He buckled himself in beside me and pushed back his seat to get more leg room . I turned the ignition key, touched the accelerator and the engine throb bed with impatience. It was hot , a heat haze rising off the cement.
I lowered the window to get some air as I joined the afternoon traffic.
' Is that al right? ' I said.
' I t's good for me , ' he replied.
I had only recently passed my test and drove slowly through the v illages dotting the countryside, lips tightly closed, my hands at ten to two on the steering wheel. I could feel his eyes on me, on my neck with its splash of colo r, my bare thighs, on my breasts pushing against the fabric of my blouse. M y body under his inspection gr ew sticky with embarrassment.
As I changed gear he watched m y legs dancing over the pedals. My skirt r ose over my thighs and my breasts tingled. That morning, after my shower, I had put my bra on, stared at myself in the mirror, then I t ook it off again. I rolled my nipples between my fingers until the sting made me grip my teeth in bliss. W ith those buds smarting and raw , I wriggled into the smallest, skimpiest most immodest little white blouse in the drawer. Having lost my holiday, if there was one thing I wanted to do that mo nth as an intern at Drew-Butler, it was sell a property and I ha d set out for work with butterflies in my tummy, determination in my step and a feeling that destiny was about to pay a visit.
This was my chance . Be cool. Be grown up. I turned momentarily.
' How do you like being an estate agent? ' he asked.
' It ' s only temporary, ' I replied.
' Ah, yes. The only permanence is change, ' he observ ed, his deep voice like the Bishop who had once given out books and trophies on prize day.
'I'm starting university after the summer.'
' Very sensible. What're you going study?'
'Literature,' I replied , and shrugged . 'All reading and dusty old books.'
'Don't forget to stop and smell the roses, you've got to have a bit of fun as well.'
'Don't worry, I inten d to … '
'Good for you , ' he said and patted my leg.
I swallowed hard and forced out a smile . It was my job to put the client at ease, but it was hard to know what to say. He had turned sideways in his seat and was openly examining my neck and breasts , so immodestly prominent with the seat belt dividing them. His eyes undressed me and the shameful thing was I didn't mind . My little fantasy before the bathroom mirror that morning wasn ' t exactly a first , it was becoming a ritual . There was a great big world out there. I was straining at the leash dying to plunge in at the deep end . Childhood is like a prison sentence. S ixth form was behind me and I felt like a freed slave sloughing off my shackles ready to run barefoot into the future. F ather was an unreconstructed Victorian, the school he had sent me to was famous for its strict discipline , and working with Mr. Butler made me feel like a Bob Cratchit in the Scrooge's office in A Christmas Carol .
As for my on/off boyfriend, Simon, that was definitively off . H e had taken off to go surfing after a blazing row that had brought me to tears and had made Simon so angry I'd thought he was going to hit me. Like me, he had been at boarding school , but we had spent holidays hanging out together since we were fifteen , the kissing growing to… well, just about everything except actually doing it.
It was Saturday afternoon. His parents were at a wedding in London and we were in his bedroom, my top off, the zip on my jeans down, his strong hands pulling at the denim, my legs crossed like we were in the midst of a bout of judo, at which I was a blue belt. He gave up and rolled off
Similar Books
