Fur Coat No Knickers (19 page)

‘Holy Mary
Mother of God!’… Had I just fecking pissed myself…? O-M-G… like a baby? My eyes practically popped out of their sockets in horror.

Travis
- had released my hands and was on his haunches looking at me with unbridled gratification. Mortified, I used my newly-free hand to quickly cup my lady-garden in embarrassment, confusion and panic. I didn't want anymore to come out.

‘I love a squirter,’ said Travis, with evident satisfaction. ‘I want you to cum again, just like that.’

‘You do?!’ I asked, still feeling the humiliation. I was scared to look at him properly. ‘I’ve never… ever… ever cum like that before.’ My eyes fixed to the floor in shame.

‘Don't go shy on me now, baby
… We have unfinished business,’ he grinned, stealing a glance at his still rock hard cock. My face flamed a brilliant shade of red, whilst he moved closer to me, looking masterful. Throwing me down hard, he scooped my legs up high across his broad shoulders and entered me. His eyes never left mine as he began to thrust in and out.

‘I fucking love you
, Tara,’ he groaned as he gathered his pace. I had to close my eyes because I was on the point of reaching another orgasm.

‘I love you too
, Travis,’ I managed to whisper. I whole-heartedly surrendered myself - mind body and soul. I was vaguely aware of tears of joy snaking down my cheeks as I climaxed again. I just couldn’t get over feeling the wonder of him, all of him. I opened my eyes to drink in the sight of him enjoying my body and my well-watered lady-garden.

By now, he too had been forced to close his eyes. His slightly open mouth and blank expression told me he was now on another planet. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
He powerfully shot himself into me and promptly collapsed.

It was the most sexually erotic experience of my life.

CHAPTER NINE

I had mixed feelings when Travis began to unwind himself from our sweaty, post-coital embrace early the next morning.

I knew he had to go to a meeting here in the hotel in one of the conference suites. That was, in part, why we were at this incredible hotel. But I’d have given anything for him to say:
Sod it! I am with the most amazing woman in the world, let them get on with it without me for once.

Even though
part of me wanted a breather for a few minutes to mentally relive every detail of our night of passion, I would have said ‘yes, yes, yes!’ in a nanosecond to a repeat performance.

Instead, I felt Travis tenderly brushing the hair to the side of my face and kissing me gently on the lips.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he breathed, looking intently into my eyes. ‘Leaving you here… looking like
this
… after what we’ve just experienced… is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my whole life. You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen.’

As he stood up, he let his hands slowly trail down the whole length of my body. I felt the familiar tingle of anticipation and did my best to arrange myself in a coquettish pose to tempt him back.

‘Stop it,’ he grinned. ‘You know what that does to me.’

Without a word he dived back on top of me and kissed me long and hard, his tongue searching deep into my mouth. His hand roughly grabbed my breast as he began to work his way down my body, licking every inch of me.

I was in ecstasy. I could barely wait until he reached my lady-garden and stretched out my legs in eager anticipation.

Then, I heard the familiar
painful ring of Travis’ phone.

‘Leave it,’ I begged, not knowing if I could physically cope if he stopped right now.

It was too late though. With one movement and a hint of a growl he was off the bed, tending to his phone.

‘Hi, yeah, sorry, I got a little held up,’ he said, in a completely matter-of-fact tone which showed no hint of what he’d just been doing not
ten seconds earlier. In fact, if he wasn’t standing there with a massive, glorious erection, I’d never have believed he was the same man.
He was clearly a very accomplished actor,
I thought, with a glow of pride at his endless talents.

‘Yeah
. No problem,’ he continued, as he began to busy himself around the room, picking up his scattered clothes and putting them on as he spoke, his mobile cupped under his chin. ‘Yeah, well, if you have the contract ready, we won’t have any trouble. Okay. See you down stairs in a few minutes.’

Snapping shut his phone, he looked over at me as he dressed. He looked genuinely distraught to be leaving me. Standing there
with his fists clenched, he let out a groan.

‘Sometimes work
really
sucks,’ he said. ‘Will you wait for me? Order yourself some Champagne and something to eat. I will be back as soon as I can - sooner if possible.’

Then
, leaning over, he put his mouth close to my ear.

‘Don’t bother to get dressed, you’ll only have to take it all off again,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve got plans for you, Tara Ryan.’

Before I could respond properly, he’d walked out the door.

Lying back in the crumpled bed, I revelled in what had just happened.
We've just had unprotected, baby-making sexy times - that’s what just happened!
And, best of all, he didn't even seem the least bit phased, in fact he had almost implied that he wanted me – yes, me - to be the mother of his babies!

I shivered with
excitement, pushed my tummy out and then gently rubbed it. I didn't want to disturb his super-charged sperm after they had just left their testicular boot camp. I shoved a pillow under the small of my back to keep my oven at the correct tilt and lay still.
Swim my little ones, swim,
I thought, encouraging them on their long journey to my ‘petit poi’. I visualised the sporty ones in Nike tracksuits with cool Ray-Bans and others in Speedo trunks wearing swimming goggles. Some will get lost and just give up, some will be confused and idly shoot-the-breeze with each other; probably go cross-eyed from swimming around in circles, pissed after our Champagne-fuelled binge.

On the other hand, there will be those who will be swi
mming down a NO ENTRY ZONE. They’d be swimming past the tonsils and wondering where the feckin’ hell they were going. By now, my imagination was in overdrive, as I envisaged the sperm race.

‘Overtaking the lot of them with super charged stamina, comes the super-dupa sperm whale,’ I mentally commentated
, like an over-excited sports presenter.

‘His Olympic medals are shining brightly
- this dude is so relaxed, he’s even wolf-whistling and winking at the very receptive petit poi. Oh no, she’s barricaded the doors and appears to be throwing handbags and lipsticks. Ah no, it’s a poor defense. Old super-duper has simply flashed his medals and she’s opened the door to let him in. What a performance, ladies and gentleman!’

I don’t know how long I’d lai
d there going over it all in my head, but I was brought back to reality by the arrival of a text. Bursting with excitement, I dashed across to the side table to retrieve it and was rewarded with a message from the Love God himself.

[Text from Travis]

That was outstanding sex!! Never felt anything like it. Can’t concentrate on meeting Xxx   

I know Travis had told me not to leave the bed, but I was up now as I really needed to pee. Walking through the heavy door, I couldn’t suppress another smile. It really was
the
most incredibly posh hotel. There were mirrors everywhere in this hotel room. You could see yourself from every angle in the most intimate detail. That was not, as I quickly discovered though, such a good thing.

Peering into the largest of these mirrors I could see there were no two ways about it: I had a severe case of FFG (Freshly Fecked Glow). My face looked and felt like it had had a chemical peel. It was red
-raw and patchy. Meanwhile, my lips were so swollen they wouldn’t need filling for at least another six months. But worse was to follow, as I looked closer at myself in the beautifully lit bathroom mirror.

Oh my God
.
I had a great, big, pus-filled pimple staring right back at me - right on the end of my nose.
Shit. Is that why he was looking at me so intently? That’s so disgusting.
Horror took over me as I grabbed some tissue in preparation for the operation that was so urgently needed to get rid of the offending mass. I didn’t want to leave any marks on my face, as he would be back at any moment, but on the other hand, it couldn’t stay. Taking a deep breath, I positioned a finger either side of the offending spot and pushed them together - hard…
‘Feck, that really hurt!’
What made it worse was it wasn't that long ago I’d had a proper peel, so my poor face was super-sensitive. Still - no time to be squeamish. I was on full shag alert.

As soon as I was done and had carefully wiped my face clean, I remembered I was desperate for a pee. Following the events of earlier, I gave myself a treat and actually sat on the toilet instead of
performing the usual muscle-spasm-inducing hover, which I normally adopted over a strange loo, (even one as clean as this one). Alas, I had to sit on the perch, as my thighs were so sore I just couldn't squat anymore.

Seated at my throne, I could hear my mobile receiving text messages. I was reluctant to leave the bathroom though in case Travis decided to do a quick detour back to the room. I needed to check my face wasn’t bleeding where I had drained the life out of my pimple before I re-entered the fray. Eventually though, curiosity got the better of me and after a quick glance in the mirror, I stuck a piece of tissue on the end of my nose and made a dash to the bedroom to grab my phone before dashing back and locking myself into the bathroom. A sigh of relief washed over me because at least I could make myself look half decent before he returned.

[Text from Travis]

Hoping to break for lunch at 12 x

[Text from Laura]

Well??? Come on!!! How did it go???? X

I went straight into reply to Laura;

[Text to Travis]

I faked a couple of orgasms. But the real ones were brilliant!! Google ‘wet-the-bed orgasms’!! Woke up with a great big fecker of a pimple, but burst it. Talking of heads, get saving for a hat - I’m in love!! Call you later xxx

I giggled smugly as I watched the envelope on my phone whisk away to Travis…
Shit!! That was meant to be for Laura!!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

OH FUCK! OH MY GOD… NOOOOOO!

I could feel my face burning. What a stu
pid, stupid, stupid cow! I felt so completely helpless. I can’t believe I just sent that to Travis. I just wanted to put my hand into my phone and pull that awful message back. There was nothing I could do. It had flown off into the airwaves, around the swanky corridors of this five-star hotel and straight into the mobile phone of the gorgeous, cool and sophisticated man I adored.

Frantically, I read the text back. Then I read the text back again
, and again a third time. It got worse each time I read it.

I started to sweat and feel dizzy. Dropping the phone onto the sink unit, I ran away from it and stared at myself in the mirror in agony. Then, I
 ran back to the phone, picked it up and read that awful feckin’ message again. I switched the phone off and then back on again. I don’t know why I did this I knew it was working fine. Somehow I thought it might just un-send the text, but I already knew in reality there was no going back. I was doomed. There was nothing I could do apart from jump out of the window; but that would hurt - we were on the top floor, after all. Whilst I did want to knock myself out, I didn’t want to die.      

‘Pull yourself together
, Tara,’ I screamed silently to myself.
You can’t fall apart now. You have to think - and think quickly
. Quite frankly that’s not always something I was good at. With shaky hands, I began to compose a text.

[Draft message to Travis]

Hi gorgeous, sent you a text by accident. Really sorry…

[Delete.]

Shit! That’s crap.
I cursed at myself, sinking down to sit on the edge of the loo as my legs turned to jelly.

[Text to Travis]

A text has been forwarded to me from a friend. I meant to send it to Laura. But sent it to you, by mistake! lol xxx

I clicked send, accompanying my message with a silent prayer:
‘Please God, don’t let him think I was referring to him.’

I put the phone down on the toilet
, feeling utterly helpless. Obviously I’d need to leave the hotel right away. That was a given. There was no way I’d ever be able to see him again (that is, if he ever
wanted
to see me again).

Disconsolately, I turned the heavy lever that worked the shower to one side and watched as the generous spray of water
cascaded into the tray below. Jumping into the warm water, I tilted my lady-garden forward and frantically began washing the sperm away… there’s no way I was going to be a single parent from day dot! 

I began to plan how I would escape the building without running into
Travis. I couldn’t face him. Not now. Not ever. But I already knew in my heart of hearts; I couldn’t bear not to see him.

Maybe I should send another text, I thought
, as I practically poured the entire bottle of Molton Brown Black Peppercorn body wash onto my hand and began to soap myself. How could I undo this mess? Every time I thought about the text, I cringed. I can’t believe he will have read that bit about faking orgasms. For lack of any other options, I let out a huge, dramatic sob. Since it felt a little soothing, I did a few more for good measure. I did, however, frequently pause to peer across at my phone to see if a message had arrived. It lay deadly silent.

Maybe he hasn’t been able to read the testosterone-destroying text yet,
I thought, brightening.
After all, he is stuck down stairs in that meeting, so at this moment, in his eyes - I could still be the woman he wants to be with. Oh, that would be so perfect.
I smiled faintly, feeling calm for the first time since I’d sent that stupid message.

But, it won’t stay that way, will it Tara?
Feckin’ texting. Whoever came up with that stupid idea needs a breezeblock around their face. I wish I could turn the clock back. Bloody Laura and her need to know everything. Nosey cow. It’s all her fault. I’d called him a Sex God only a few hours ago, now he wouldn’t believe me. I’ve completely insulted Travis and made out he was a crap lay. To make matters worse, he was actually really good in that department. Most men need a feckin’ sat nav to find their way around our lady-gardens, but this one knew exactly where he was going. He didn’t think that my nipples were for tuning a 1970’s-style radio either.