A Dozen Dates (14 page)

“Is this a date..?”

“Maybe... I don’t care. I just want to kiss you...” Michael told her, beginning to understand that she had some kind of problem with the practice of dating, though not necessarily with the things practised on a date.

“You
want
to kiss me?” Gemma checked, the elements of surprise and relief in her voice confusing him.

“Of course I want to kiss you...” Michael paused and then asked, “Okay..?”

Gemma closed her eyes with shyness, “Okay...”

“Okay.” Michael smiled at her before he lifted his upper body, licked his lips and lent in to kiss her. He impatiently connected his mouth to hers, but managed to still kiss her softly.

Gemma raised her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, caressing his shoulder blades before raising one to the back of his neck. She dared to lift her eyelids and glance at him. He was gazing at her through misty eyes and looking into them made her feel a little drunk...

Michael tenderly kissed each of her lips, sucking and taking each into his mouth individually, alternately; and then relaxed and allowed Gemma to do the same to him. Her softness was entrancing, her innocence, captivating, and it wasn’t long before he started kissing her again.

Gemma gently entwined and twisted her curious fingers in his thick, sandy brown hair and massaged his scalp, as her lips began to tingle from his perfect kisses. His warm mouth closed over hers, threatening to steal away her breath – her sanity; her soul, and then Michael started massaging her tongue with his, never averting his sensual, almost loving gaze. She felt herself starting to drop into another level of consciousness as her tongue slow-danced with his - her head began to tilt back, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier... Her breathing shallowed and she closed her eyes, intensifying her awareness of his warmth and scent.

Gemma sighed as she felt Michael’s hand travel up from her belly to her ribcage and then slide up beside her breast – his thumb beginning to stroke the side of its fullness. She sighed even as she panicked – people could see... “Mi... peep...” she couldn’t speak through the sensual kiss, so Michael raised his head about an inch. “Michael...” she breathed as she partially opened her eyes, “People might see...”

“Okay,” he replied in a whisper, and then he reached behind him, grabbed the edge of the blanket and then rolled over her and landing on her opposite side, wrapping her within its protective veil. The sudden movement startled Gemma and her eyes shot open. Michael wiggled the blanket over him as best he could, then leant down to her ear and whispered; “Now they won’t...” He began to nibble her ear lobe and kiss her neck.

“They will know...” she whispered, her voice trailing as she struggled to compose the words, her body becoming fluid-like under his kisses.

“No they won’t,” Michael stated as he replaced his other hand on her belly and began to once again blaze a trail up to her feminine lumps.

“They... might...” Gemma tried to explain but her conviction was weakened by the love chemicals dancing in her brain.

Michael laid his other arm on the blanket around her head, and nudged her head gently with the flats of his fingers, “Kiss me, Gemma.”

The next thing Gemma knew she was engaged in a kiss, her mind swimming, her breasts being fondled and she forgot what the issue was. She teased his ear with one hand and she flopped her other arm over his shoulder, occasionally tracing it down the arm and hand which was moving over her breasts and back up again.

Gemma felt his hand slide off her breast and begin to move down to her belly again, and she involuntarily pushed her chest out in protest, desiring for his accomplished hand to return.

Michael lightly stroked Gemma’s belly with his fingers. He moaned as he felt her hand slide down over his shoulder and arm, slide off his bicep and brush across her own breasts, before returning and palpating his strong bicep. He started to trace his fingers down to her shorts, when he felt Gemma tense and grip his arm. He stopped and tantalised the flesh where his hand rested until she relaxed, and once again lost her self-consciousness, then he slid it over the top of the denim fabric of her shorts. “Uh!” she exclaimed, her heart pounding and feeling breathless. Gemma’s hands raced down his arm, where she tightly grasped his forearm, her eyes slightly opening again.

Michael slightly raised his head and inclined it nearer her ear and murmured, “Shhhhhh... It’s okay.” Then he started placing light pecks on her jaw.

Gemma relaxed her grip in her bliss, but she still retained a soft clasp, then she felt Michael slowly move his hand down over her pubic mound. She was nervous, her heart beating ferociously, but underneath that... She was in ecstasy. She felt him raise his head, his warm breath trail over her cheek and she once again saw into his hazy eyes as he dropped his mouth back over hers and leisurely kissed her. She sighed, the sweet wetness of his tongue exciting her, making her desire more. She kissed him deeply, and then her eyes closed, her head once again rolled back and her nerve endings electrified and shooting prickles all over her body, and then she realised that he was rubbing her pubic mound through her shorts... and she was letting him.

Her hand began to trace his arm up and down, in a sense, rewarding it for the pleasure it was gifting her. Michael nuzzled her pliant face over with his nose and began to kiss and nibble her throat again, sending more shivers over her already overstimulated body.

Michael slid his hand back up to the top of her denim shorts and popped open the button, before slowly starting to pull down the zipper.

Gemma panted and mumbled, “St-stop!” and Michael did.

He whispered in her ear, “It’s okay...” and then he started sliding the zipper down again. Gemma gasped and her fingers dug into his arm, and Michael stopped again. “Gemma, I want to touch you...” he claimed as he completed undoing the zip and slid his hand up to the top of her undergarment. “Will you let me touch you..?” he asked her as he tickled her abdomen just within her panties.

“People might see...” she whispered.

“I won’t allow that, Gemma... I promise...” Michael whispered back and fingers first, he pushed his hand under the fabric.

Gemma tried to control herself – contain her responses, but when she felt Michaels hand move down over her mound, one finger sliding between her delicate folds and stroking her swollen button she began to pant. His finger went down far enough to bathe in her moisture, but it didn’t enter her, and then he brought it back up to her clitoris. Kisses caressed her throat as her head fell back, and she was keenly aware of her legs twitching as he ran his large, working man’s finger down and up against her.

Michael was thrilled by her little gasps and sighs and moans, and excited by her southern wetness and the feel of her firm but delicate button as he slipped his finger over it, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. Her hand tickled his arm and then travelled up it before once again leaving it to sweep leisurely across her breasts and then back down his arm, placing it on his wrist and holding his hand in place, wanting him to touch her... needing his touch. Michael moaned in her ear – delighted by her responses.

Gemma started to feel strange, like she might faint, and sounds started accompanying her pants.

Michael noted her change in composure and lifted his face to watch her. He moved the hand stroking her cheek across and sunk a couple of fingers just inside her mouth and observed how Gemma started kissing and suckling on them. With his other hand he applied further pressure and continued stroking her rhythmically.

Suddenly Gemma’s stomach muscles tensed harder than she knew possible, one of her legs extended, she closed her teeth on the fingers in her mouth and she stopped breathing.

It spread over her body like a painful pleasure until it infiltrated every cell of her body, before the muscles inside her lower abdomen rhythmically began to spasm and she gasped frantically for air. Michael’s hand stopped moving and just pressed firmly against her and then every muscle in her body simultaneously liquefied into a languid pile of jelly.

Michael removed his hand from Gemma’s shorts and began to do up her zip when she reached down and fumbling, finished it for him. Then he reached up and began stroking her hair back behind her ears, “You are so beautiful...” he told her then watched as she blushed. “Uh! It’s too late to blush now...” Gemma looked at him, tranquillity in her expression, and he leant down and lightly kissed her.

“Was today a date?” she inquired, though peace still evidently reigned her face.

“I don’t know, Gem, do you want it to be?” Michael asked, his voice calm.

“If it
was
a date, what number would it be..?” she inquired and Michael grinned at her innocent, genuine curiosity.

“Well... Assisted masturbation... Outdoor orgasm... I would think that would at least be a number eight,” Michael concluded and Gemma smiled at him, pleased.

As Gemma listened to him prattle on, lying within his embrace, she felt a rare serenity. She was so content when she was beside him, his essence dancing about her. She wished she could stay there forever.

Chapter Six

Tuesday came and Gemma and Sam went shopping.
Firstly they went and selected the tiles for the bathroom and the new kitchen, and then they went and purchased the paint for the men. Afterwards they went clothes shopping, having a blast trying on multiple outfits just for fun – even the weird and trashy stuff. It seemed Sam liked to shop for clothes every bit as much as Gemma.

Hours passed and after spending way more money than they should have, they called into the eatery for lunch. “So how are you and Michael getting along?” Sam asked her, and Gemma was lost for words. “I can tell he likes you...”

“I can tell he likes you, too...” Gemma admitted to her companion and Sam looked downwards at her food.

“Not the same as he likes you...”

They ate in silence for a minute.
Gemma really liked Sam, and they had almost become friends in their own right. They respected each other’s careers on a level that not everyone could understand, for they were both creative and had a good eye for colour and balance. They both like the beach! And trying on clothes...
“He’s pretty fine, isn’t he?” she finally stated.

“Oh... He’s okay...” Sam said in an unimpressed voice and they both laughed.

The girls arrived back at the house with a Pavlova and coffee shop cappuccinos for afternoon tea and a few too many shopping bags.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Nathan, “You are never taking Miranda shopping!”

“Miranda’s turn next week...” Sam threatened.

“Did you get paint?” Michael inquired.

“Yes, we got paint... It’s in the boot! Can you not see our arms are full?” Sam told them.

“And did you have fun, Missy?” Michael inquired of Gemma.

The hugest grin flashed across Gemma’s face as she held out all of her bags and she confessed, “A little bit!”

“Gemma had so much fun she needs a raise!” Sam stated and Gemma laughed. Michael hadn’t really ever seen her interacting with a girlfriend and her manner was rather appealing, even if on this occasion... expensive!

“Well, Gemma can help us paint...” Nathan joked though there was a genuine job offer in there somewhere.

“Do you want to see what I bought?” Gemma asked.

“I know I’m going to regret this... Sure!” Michael replied.

The girls showed off their new clothes, and the men, to their credit remained engaged and pointed out which ones they particularly liked. They finished their cappuccinos and half the Pavlova and the men collected the paint from Sam’s boot before she had to leave. “Bye Gem!” Sam called out to her.

Gemma looked up from watering her gardens and smiled, “Seeya Sam.” What a great day she had had – and with her rival... How bizarre!

How bizarre that she should get along so well with Sam... How bizarre that they enjoyed each company... But especially how bizarre was it to talk to each other about Michael’s interest in the other – that was really bizarre...

Sam had actually told her that Michael liked her; and she had done likewise... What does that mean for their friendship... and their competition? She liked Sam, but she still liked Michael. She still hoped to win his heart.

Gemma considered how she and Sam actually had a lot in common, but at the same time... very different from one another - they were like country mouse and city mouse, and Gemma lacked the poise and sophistication that Sam exuded, and she couldn’t compete with it nor copy it... She was going to have to find another way to stand out in Michael’s eyes...

She stood out in her red dress, but Michael was right – it was more for a cocktail party and not really suitable for day work or the garden, and apparently a health hazard when he was working on heights or with tools. Gemma giggled to herself – proud as punch of the response she was able to trigger in him.

She decided that she needed a style that she could wear every day and was functional for work, but something that would make her prominent and eye-catching amongst her peers.

Gemma took Thursday morning off so she could revisit some of the shops that she and Sam had ventured into and go to the hairdressers – the bark wouldn’t arrive until mid-morning anyway.
Someone
... arrived at the house on Thursday just in time for lunch.

Michael looked her up and down... down and up! The boots were sensible at least – black and combat style but worn atop cheap looking, tattered fishnet stockings. She wore short black shorts which rested on her hips and were held up with a studded belt. A vest, mottled black red and white with skulls on it, jacketed a black bikini bra. Her neck supported cheap chunky chains with more skulls and a black leather collar with spikes which matched the cuff wrapped around her wrist. Her hair, changed yet again, was twisted into spikes with the ends died red. Her make-up was dramatic, with black lipstick, heavy mascara and eye shadow drawn out to the sides... like speed stripes! Now Michael was charitable and could handle the make-up... the hair - barely... But he could not...
Would
not... ever handle that grotesque bullring dangling from her nostrils!