The Solstice byVon Hauffen©

Note to readers: This is a work of historical fiction. It contains what some may consider intense, violent or otherwise taboo subject matter. It is not an attempt to be historically accurate, nor to portray any specific culture or person from the past; but perhaps readers may find some scenes both familiar and enjoyable all the same. As always, thank you for reading my work. - Von Hauffen.

*****

Characters of Note

Gerda: A widow returned to her people; fóstra (foster- mother) to Agilard and others

Agilard: An orphaned boy; now young warrior

Cyneswith: A friend to Agilard; wife to the warrior, Stuf

Gibuldus: A Druid

Stuf: Agilard's oath-sworn friend

*Baldr: A god of light and purity

*Frejya: A goddess of light, love, sexuality, fertility

*****

The Solstice

Chapter One

It was not like her to rise after the dawn of a new day. So, just like any other, she was up and outside her makeshift shelter: a wagon with leather hides stretched across to keep her life's belonging safe, and another that draped down its rear and sides to permit a semblance of privacy. The others had much more permanent places to call home; structures that made them feel less the wandering people that they were.

But she was not like them. She knew that this day would be like no other in her life thus far. For today she would pass from the realm of the living: to Odin's Underworld. A sacrifice to Baldr and all that her people held sacred.

Her "people."

They were no longer her people. In less than eight summers, they were all strangers now. She had returned from a banishment to actual strangers and now been rejected by those whom she thought she knew.

She despised the sense of uselessness, of hopelessness that had crept over her the past three days and nights. Never in her life had she not woke each day with so many things to do; hardly rested from the previous day's work. And what was more: it was she who had always helped the other women take care of their families as well - having never been blessed with a child of her own. Even her husbands had left no issues behind in order to carry on their names and deeds.

She was - had been - the youngest sister of a former chief and the widow of two brave warriors slain in battle; but that in itself held little status amongst her people. Her brother had given her protection with his wives and children, but now that they were all gone - dead or with families of their own - she meant nothing to any one at all.

And should that surprise me? I am getting long in the tooth and barren as well. Never included in the most beautiful of any people I called my own. What man would choose me now, when all I am is a husk? What man would I even accept into my heart that would take me in as a mere slave to his kin at my age?

She spent the rest of the fleeting darkness tending to her beast of burden: an old shaggy cow that had been with her for as long as she had been away. Seven Summer Solstices at least. A dowry from her new husband, a man she had never seen before that day.

The beast, tied to a nearby tree, nuzzled against her shoulder as she fed it dried hay. It was female just like her, thin with age and many years of traveling but it still had so much time left to prove her own usefulness in this world.

"If only I were a man, I would be able to prove my own worth," she said to the beast gently. "They won't even give me the chance."

The beast stopped chewing and swiped its large tongue against her hand, tried to reach the side of her face before she stepped away with a reluctant smile.

"Don't worry," she said in her soothing voice again. "You'll be taken care of for sure. You're a much too valuable maiden, aren't you?"

The animal liked the sound of her voice and went back to eating. Ignored its mistress as she brushed tangles from its hide and tail, made sure its cloven hooves were still clear of debris. The woman patted the beast on the side and headed deeper into the woods to relieve herself, and then made her way to the swimming hole that was furthest away from the camp.

The smell of the forest and the sounds of insects surrounded her everywhere. She took in the sights and scents as if they might be her last; for she knew that was more than likely how it would be.

The sun had risen on the horizon, causing an orange glow and a mist to form on the pond. She heard voices in the distance, but knew she was hidden by the tall reeds. It was so warm and muggy already, and even the night before had been sticky.

After slipping off her long tunic and pressing the mud between her toes, she caught sight of her reflection in the pool. The face staring back at her was hard after the past few weeks, but not entirely without beauty.

Her eyes had a weary look to them, not the overly friendly tone that brought children running with open arms and loosened the tongues of complete strangers. The lips had a more permanent downward curve than she remembered from the last time she had cared to examine herself so closely.

Altogether she was simply older, with the lines of a woman that had toiled every day for near forty summers at least. Stronger jaw than many of the smaller women: those women with the broad hips and the full breasts that seemed to drop children every other season it seemed. But if anything surprised her, it was the shape of her own body now. Never soft to begin with since she was always on the move, it was now more than lean. Only the sculpt of her muscles and the sharp angles of her bones remained. Nothing shapely or comforting that a man could ever want again.

She splashed into the water and then dipped below the surface to shatter the image; lifted her head and watched dragonflies racing by. The water felt so clean, so invigorating. She felt instantly that it was not meant for a woman who was preparing to part from the mortal world.

She hadn't slept at all really. Mindful of what this day would hold, but even more fearful of what the next life had in store for a woman such as her. Would her first husband, the love of her youth - the boy to whom she had given her maidenhood and her heart with no reservations - would he be the one waiting for her on the other side? With his long golden-brown hair, much like hers, and the eyes that still made her heart heavy at the very thought of him? Their time together had been so short.

Would it be her second husband? The one who was nearly thrice her age, but so very kind. They had had three years together at least, before his sword was returned to her and their home of orphaned charges.

Or would it be the last and third husband, the one who had recently taken his own life so as not to burden his people any longer, but had given no thought to her? Did the Gods allow a man to spill his own blood in shame and then receive his kin in the afterlife? And what of a man who had not seen to even tell his wife of seven years what he had planned to do? To have to be told by another that your husband had crossed the Bridge without even saying goodbye or expressing what he wanted of you...

She had always been strong for everyone around her in their time of need. Yet where were even one of them now that her own time had come? Feeling the tears gathering at her eyes, she quickly dipped beneath water again and stayed under long enough to feel they were forever washed away.

When she came up, she heard voices a little closer now. And a small boy laughing. Her heart broke for him.

Having only been among her former people for three very short days, she didn't know his entire tale. Only that he had the "empty mind" and laughed at both everything and nothing. His mother had died moons ago, but his father was an honored thane and elder until just recently. Until he had died in battle during the Eostre raids. And now the boy had no one to protect him. Or at least no one that would take him in permanently.

She knew the people would allow someone to do it if they really wanted, for she had been one of those in the past. She had taken it upon herself, much to her brother's wives' hostility, to care for many orphaned children. Some for just a few months until they came of age, others for many seasons until the Gods claimed them or they proved their worth on their own.

Fifteen children she had saved and raised with her husband, and then even her brother's reluctant protection. The number matched the years between the death of her first husband and being given to her final one of a distant but not unfriendly people similar to her own. Ten children had grown to become people of their own, only the last two was she forced to leave behind with years still ahead to grow.

Oh, how she had worried incessantly about their fates in the earliest months: a boy and a girl, both left parentless at younger even than the laughing boy. Did they grow in peace? Did the girl with the fiery red curls find herself a husband and family at last? Was the boy a strong man now, even if a very young one, protecting his own kin? Or had they been dragged out as an offering to Baldr just as she was about to be?

Perhaps one or both of them would be there waiting to greet her across the Bridge. Of course her own parents and ancestors may as well, but she could not even recall their faces now. The thought that someone who had loved her more recently would be waiting was the only thing that made things easier for her; especially during those times when she fell into the deepest pit of despair.

"It is all good, Brusi," she heard a woman say with a heavy heart "We must look our best for our trip today. You are such a good boy." The boy giggled and splashed in the water somewhere amongst the reeds. He sputtered and choked and even then didn't stop laughing.

Gerda fighting a battle within herself, wanting the boy who probably understood nothing anyway, to not be afraid; to think that this was just another day. Yet she also hated herself for feeling resentful of not having that one loved one, not even one friend to offer her those same meaningless but reassuring words.

You are not one for self-pity, she said to herself, concentrating on washing everything very, very quietly. You will have plenty of time for that tonight. And who knows? Maybe there will be nothing anyway. And you will never even know that either. Then you will have made it through this world without ever having felt that pity that so many seem to hold so dear.

She waited until she heard the pair leave, heard the boy's giggling and the woman's soothing voice get farther away. All the while she floated on her back, with her long hair all around her, breasts and knees and face the only things breaking the surface entirely. She floated there long after they had left, until she heard boisterous voices and the sounds of hundreds of people waking entirely.

The sky was absolutely beautiful: a clear blue, with little wispy clouds drifting by endlessly. Perhaps that was a good sign. Perhaps the gods were letting her know that they would be waiting, even if she had no one else to greet her as her own.

*****

Having donned her nicest dress, even braiding her hair like she had many years before, adorning herself with the precious necklace her father had given her when she was a babe, and the dark fur boots she had traded for just a few days earlier for some trinkets and a small but elegant blade, she went about eating her breakfast alone. Dark, hard bread with some tough, salted meat, and a little beer from her dead husband's traveling skin. It wouldn't last the day, which was something she had never allowed to happen in all her years of caring for her man or many orphaned children. But now, it wouldn't matter anyway. The days of being so meticulous and concerned about everything, from her appearance to the greased wheels of her wagon had certainly passed.

"You," she heard a man say suddenly, a certain unease in his voice.

She looked up to see a wiry young man of about twenty, long yellow hair pulled back and mustaches plaited, approaching from the main camp.

"I am Gerda," she said, standing and deftly stowing all the utilities of her meager meal quickly.

"Yes, yes. You must return with me," he said, trying to avoid her intense stare directly. "Veliefr has sent for you."

Gerda blinked, suddenly feeling her mouth turn dry. She knew enough not to question him; he was already blooded in battle with rings on one hand and a jagged purple scar on his bare chest. She looked back at her things, her entire life, and wanted to ask what would become of it, but she knew he would know nothing, and tell her even less.

Following him through the camp, she felt eyes on her, just like when she had joined her husband's people, what now seemed a lifetime ago. More recently, she had felt the same stare when just three days past she had literally stumbled with her wagon and possessions upon their vast camp. It had been three weeks since she had seen anyone but a lone hunter and two traders from the strange ones to the south; these same stares were what had greeted her when she had arrived.

And she knew right then it had been a mistake. She never should have returned.

The camp itself was already in the business of readying for another move. Where they would head next would be decided by the chieftains and elders after the Solstice was passed. Then the entire people would set out as one big rambling horde until they found another place at least as hospitable as this last one. Gerda had arrived right at the start of those preparations which would be over completely in ten or eleven days. Not enough time for the leaders to be concerned over a lone woman and her wagon.

Veliefr was actually a distant cousin of some sort, and of all the elders who had decided her case, at least he'd had some semblance of sympathy for her plight. But it was far too much too allow even the slightest bit of hope that something good might come out of this meeting.

His wife was younger than she was herself - both of them were in fact - and their small children were running around the thatched structure they called home. None of them minded her or the man with her at all really. The wife glanced momentarily before she went back to cooking.

If that were my family, they would be fed and bathed already, she thought to herself dryly just before being shown into the home. The warrior left completely, just as soon as Veliefr had acknowledged the other man's duty complete.

Clearly, the young elder had never imagined that she would arrive so quickly and so appealing to the eyes. It had not been her intention to look as beautiful as she did while standing at the entrance. Had she just woken, like his wife and the others, she wouldn't have had the time to be so alert was all. She knew that was the only thing that could have possibly made him stare.

"Have you found a husband?" he asked abruptly, turning away when he heard his wife chiding a child outside. Clearly he knew the answer already, so why had he even asked?

Gerda shook her head softly but didn't lower her eyes. She saw little reason in being overly submissive to this stranger. It was her life on its way out, not his.

Veliefr said nothing, just sat down with his legs folded under him and sharpened his knife as if to pass the time. He made no move to invite her to join him on the floor, and while Gerda thought it incredibly rude for him to sit at all so soon into the meeting, she was much more concerned about his lack of words.

She didn't hide her eyes as she let them roam all over the place; taking in bedding and food and the many leather bags and wooden trunks full of all the myriads of life's necessities. She felt him looking at her again, trying not to it seemed; saw him swallow when he took in the shape of her body.

Gerda crossed her arms across her chest almost defiantly. A moment later a hulking man entered the structure, lowering his head and blinking from the lack of natural light. She stepped aside to allow him more room, but didn't cow to him either. Every man she had seen since returning had looked at her with either scorn or morbid curiosity. Why should this one be any different?

"Married to a Ubii were you?" the man asked gruffly, after trying to stare her down.

She could barely see him with his shape blocking the light from the entrance. What she saw didn't impress her. He was going to waste, getting too fat. It wouldn't be much time before he found himself being clubbed to death at a Solstice too, she thought.

"Yes. But I was married to a man of this tribe when I was young. I am one of your sisters too."

"No children? Barren are you?"

Gerda's mouth went dry again, tightened at the corners, but she refused to look away.

"The Gods work in ways that do not always make sense to mortal men. Or women."

The man started to spit, realized he was inside an elder's tent, even if he was a young elder at that. He was quiet for a few moments, but had no reservations about looking at her very feminine form standing only a few hand lengths in front of him. He turned to Veliefr and nodded.

"And what will I get out of this?" he asked.

The other man frowned, glanced from his knife to the woman standing in front of them, completing their triangle.

"The woman is all you will get. Nothing more."

The man clenched his jaw and looked back at Gerda again. Saw the spirit in her eyes. A spirit that may take time to break. Yet her body...

"It is done." He looked at her and let a smile twitch his dirty mustaches. "Bring your things and I will decide what you keep. My other wives will keep what they want first."

He turned to leave, satisfied with his own generosity. But Gerda spoke, knowing the words would mean her life.

"No. I will not go with you."

The man stopped, already crouching at the entrance and turned to face them both. "What is this I hear? No?"

She didn't need to look at the elder to know he was not going to intervene. It meant nothing to him. He wanted nothing more than to be free from the whole ordeal.

"No. I am no longer a maiden. I will not be given away by a man who knows nothing about me and means nothing to me. And I will never bow to another wife." She turned her face and stared at the elder who was still slowly sharpening his blade. "The Elders will decide what become of my things. Not you."

The man spat that time; it landed between Veliefr and Gerda audibly. She was a little amused that the elder simply ignored it. The beast wasn't finished though.

"You brought me here to insult me? Is that it?" he growled. "Trying to pawn off the tribe's troubles on me, so you won't be blood-guilty? Thank the Gods you're on your knees or I'd kill you and send you both on your way."

Veliefr sighed, but when he raised his eyes even Gerda saw that they had changed. For the next few moments, she wondered if she were about to see men fight and bleed right before her eyes, but then the man at the entrance turned and stormed away.

Not two moments later, Veliefr's wife entered, a fierce, desperate look in her eyes. But seeing the expression on her husband's face, still seated on the floor with his knife, made her glare at Gerda instead. She retreated just as quickly and the left them alone again.

"Sit down, sister," Veliefr finally said.

When she did so, folding her legs beneath her so that only her boots were showing, he put his knife and stone aside.

"Sister -"

"My name is Gerda. I was born with these people before you. And I remember you from when you were a boy."

He closed his eyes for a few moments and then looked at her directly. 

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Long Hair bypearlescent©

His hair was long - past the shoulders long; the kind of hair that you'd have to be pretty confident to grow, if you were a man. Normally, it was tied back in a pony tail (I know – a pony tail) but when he occasionally shook it out, I had the distinct urge to reach out and stroke it or tangle my fingers in it, like it was some kind of animal's mane.

Dan had started work at the bar earlier that summer: he'd moved to London from Hicksville, Somewhere, and was already lording it around the bar and its inhabitants like only a small town attention-seeker can.

He was an incorrigible flirt even though he had a girlfriend, to whom I heard him talking to on the phone from time to time, and he always looked at me with a strange mixture of puppyish excitement and puzzled condescension, as though he couldn't work out whether he wanted to push me up against the store-room wall and fuck me, or pat me on the shoulder and say, "Good girl."

Speaking of confused, I couldn't quite work him out either. Although he could be a macho dickhead and often rubbed people up the wrong way with his outspoken and ill-thought-through comments, you could kind of tell that at he had a heart of gold beating beneath that bronzed skin of his. And, when he stopped trying to entertain the crowd and turned that 100-watt smile on you, you couldn't help falling a little bit in love with the bastard.

I was cooking dinner at home on my day off when my phone beeped.

"Thanks for sorting out the shifts, gorgeous. Oxx."

Such a stupid thing. I read it and smirked to myself. What a flatterer. But at the same time, I felt a twinge of lust. For a tiny moment, a split second, I imagined kissing him, imagined sliding a hand over his solid, muscled body.

----

Later that week I was prepping the bar for another Friday night. I'd sprayed on some new perfume that afternoon, in an attempt to counteract the smell of booze and cigarette smoke that would become the inevitable fragrance of my night. In the stale before-hours air of the bar, I felt as fresh as a daisy. But I knew, come 3am, that daisy would be wilted, slightly stained and possibly trodden beneath the foot of some oafish man. 

As I considered, slightly regretfully, my current choice of career, I heard the door from the back rooms swing open behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dan walking in. I turned back to face the bar, continuing to slice the lemons, and in a second he was behind me, hands on my waist. He sniffed my neck.

"New perfume, hey babe?" he breathed into my ear and the skin along my spine shivered involuntarily.

I carried on chopping, trying to regain my composure, as he carried on past me and started unloading glasses from the washer. I felt like I was hypersensitive to his presence, listening to his movements behind me, and rolled my eyes at my own susceptibility. Babe? FFS.

"Man I'm tired – didn't get home 'til after the cock crowed if you catch my drift. Had to have two espressos to even get my eyelids fully open. It's gonna be Red Bull all the way tonight," he called, and I glanced at him over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. His dark eyes were twinkling despite his supposed tiredness, and he grinned wolfishly at me as though he was fully ready for round two of whatever he'd had last night.

Jackson, one of the other barmen on that night, rolled his eyes.

"Fucken' typical," he muttered, taking care not to let Dan hear. As he said that, the first group of customers walked through the door. I looked up at the clock. 8pm. It was going to be a long night.

----

"It's freezing out there – d'you wanna lift?" Dan asked, leather clad, helmet in hand. 

It was 2am, I was knackered and sticky, and I was still clearing up. I looked up from wiping the last table and clocked the solid dark mass of him, from his broad, leather-ridged shoulders down to his heavy metal rimmed boots, standing so insouciantly there. 

"Ummm, ok. Thanks," I muttered back, catching his gaze for a second and then glancing away. He stood there humming as I ran to the back room and grabbed my things.

Outside, in the yard, he mounted the bike and reached into the box for a spare helmet, which he passed to me. I gingerly lifted my leg and got onto the bike behind him.

"Hold on," he said, "Wrap your arms round me."

I shifted up so I was pressing into his back and my arms were around him. I was glad that the helmet was now masking my cheeks as I could feel them starting to burn. In spite of myself, I thought of another time and reason why my legs would be parted around him, my breasts pressed up against him.

Jeez. I was grateful that girls don't have any obvious signs of horniness. My hard nipples and dampening knickers were safely hidden and there was no need for Dan to ever know what he was unwittingly doing to my body.

He revved the engine and we roared off through the streets, slick and shiny with recent rain. What a ride. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned in closer, my chin nudging his shoulder, my thighs tight against his hips. If he'd looked at me in the rear-view he'd have seen my exhilarated smile, but he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him.

He dropped me off outside my flat, and I ran inside, heart pounding. I walked straight to my bedroom and leaned against the wall. Sliding my hand down inside my silky knickers and jeans I could feel how wet I was already.

I slid my forefinger and middle finger through the juices and started to circle my clit, still listening to the engine thrumming outside my bedroom window as I pictured him stripping out of those heavy leathers, leaning over me.

I was on a strange high – my breath coming in gasps, my groin throbbing, fingers moving faster and faster until I came, imagining his cock driving into me, glistening with moisture. Laughing to myself, fingers still splayed over my spasming pussy, I swore under my breath. God I wanted to fuck him. And God I knew I was a stupid gullible idiot for it.

----

The next few weeks were full of the ridiculous dance that two people who have the hots for each other do, if one or both of them are kind of in denial. Dan would tease me, thwack me on the bum with a towel, sniff me in an oddly animalistic way under the guise of admiring my hair products, moisturiser or perfume, and smirk at me whilst he flirted with the other barmaids and/or members of the general public. And I would roll my eyes at him, frown at his corny lines, and find too many pretexts to hit him, push him or grab him as he went by.

After work I'd go home, humming with pent-up sexual energy and too wired to sleep. I felt like I was constantly switched on – my body alert to his, my pussy starting to pulse and slide against itself as I moved. I'd start to think about Dan: the curve of his biceps; the vein pulsing at this side of his tanned neck; the dark swirls of hair on his forearms; the musky-sweaty smell of him at the end of the night; the way his back curved out to his round bum.

And then I'd start to touch myself. My nipples would already be standing to attention; I'd pull down my bra cups to tease them, feeling the softness against the rough lacy texture of the bra. Sometimes I wouldn't even need to reach under my bed for my silver vibrator; I'd be so jacked up I'd come after a minute or two stroking myself, and then I could sleep.

It was coming up to Jackson's leaving do and I was carefully not thinking about the possibility of spending some off-duty time with Dan. Up 'til then all my fantasies would be purely that - locked up safely in my brain. But after-hours, I knew from experience that things could change in a second.

----

The night of Jackson's party, we all made copious use of the free bar facilities, and of course people started to cast aside their inhibitions (and that was only if they had them in the first place). Dan was always trying to initiate debauchery; lead us down the dark path like a lecherous, drunken Pied Piper. And, goddamn-it, there was definitely a part of me that wanted to be led astray.

Sitting on a leather banquette in a corner of the bar, he had let out his hair for once and the mane was free. I bumped up closer to him along the seat, reached out and pushed my fingers into the soft curls, smiling up at him, playing with the strands.

"You know, you've got the softest hair."

His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. He leaned in and spoke into my ear.

"And you've got a great little figure..."

As his hand met the bare skin at my waist it was as if I could feel every nerve ending firing up under his fingers. A jolt of lust flashed its way down into my groin. Damn Dan and damn his stupid lines. Why was I so attracted to him despite it all?

----

"THREE...TWO...ONE...DOWN IT!" Dan roared, the rhythm of glasses thumping against wood filling my ears as I tipped the fiery liquid into my mouth. It burned against my tongue and ran a trail of warmth down my throat and into my belly.

I scrunched up my eyes against the strength of it and when I opened them Dan was laughing at me, slapping his hand against his denim-clad thigh in mirth, his white, white teeth gleaming. I stopped smiling and glared at him.

"What?" he asked mock-sincerely.

I glared again.

"Come on Sash, you know that looked hilarious. Like Mary Poppins with her first taste of moonshine." He gazed at me, pouting his bottom lip, and I couldn't help laughing too.

"Ok, ok," I relented, "I can't believe you got me to drink that rancid stuff!"

"There's a lot more I could get you to do if I put my mind to it," Dan replied, his voice soft and low. I looked across at him and his eyes locked onto mine. I felt his look of determination and lust physically, like a lightning strike running all the way down through me. Like a punch in the stomach. Like a challenge being laid down.

I turned towards him, and basically lost the power of speech. All my smart-aleck replies died on my tongue. All my reasons to resist him were drowned in an avalanche of lust. He looked into my eyes as he spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"I'm gonna get another bottle of Sambuca from the back room. You coming with?"

It was less a question than a statement: he knew as well as I did that I would follow him.

As the swing door closed behind us, Dan turned and grabbed my hips with both hands, manoeuvring me so my back was against the cupboards. I looked into his eyes again and they were dark and inscrutable. His face was suddenly serious. 

"I've wanted to do this for a long time now," he said huskily. Then he leaned in, running his fingers down the side of my face and across my lips, and kissed me. 

Oh God, I knew he'd be a good kisser. I guess he'd had enough practice. His lips were soft and he was just aggressive enough. His tongue darted in and met mine, and a surge of feeling flew through me, like I was on fire. I was desperate for more of him, more kisses, more skin. I pulled away, panting, and then kissed my way down his golden brown neck, which tasted slightly salty on my tongue. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing under my lips. So gorgeous.

Dan's hands were roaming over my bum and he was pushing me back against the cupboards, pressing his body against me. I could feel the lump of his erection hard against me, as he started to grab my skirt, pulling it up at the back. I could feel his hands sweeping over my bare skin, but as his hands ran up and met the waistband of my dress, they stopped. He pulled back and looked at me, curious, and raised an eyebrow. 

"You are a bad girl Sasha. It's almost like you wanted this."

I gazed at him and smiled, enjoying his surprise.

"Fuck, Dan. You chase me around the tables for months on end but leave me hanging– what's a girl supposed to do but show up in a sexy dress and no knickers?" I replied, smirking.

At that he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His hands grabbed my bum tighter and pulled my hips towards his, grinding me against him. A low growl erupted from his throat and I shivered. Skimming his hands up my arms, he reached my shoulder-straps and pulled them down roughly.

I arched my back as my breasts were exposed to the cool air, my nipples twisting into stiff, sensitive buds. I held my breath as he dipped his head down and circled my left areola with his tongue. Ohhh, it felt so good, strokes of pleasure zipping through my whole body, right down to my toes.

I held his head against me, pushing my fingers into his hair, and he sucked on me, nipping and licking like he wanted to devour me. I spread my legs a little more and his hand crept downwards, palm skimming over the surface. His fingers slid straight into the slit, smoothing over the lips, his forefinger searching out and nudging my swollen clit.

"Jeez you are so hot for this Sash, aren't you? You're so wet and juicy for me, I knew you would be..." he whispered into my ear, and all I could do was moan whilst his fingers busied themselves, pressing me, sliding over and over and over until I thought I would come right then and there.

Finally I found my voice. I grabbed his face with both hands and his gaze met mine.

"And you're just hating every moment, aren't you, Dan-the-man, although this is a bit of a give-away." I reached down and rubbed my hand over his groin. I felt his dick throb behind the confines of his jeans.

Neither of us could stop. Neither of us cared that anyone could walk through the store cupboard door at any moment. It was just too good to be together finally, getting our hands on each other. But then, of course, someone did walk through the door. Jackson. I hoped that all he saw was Dan's back and my head, thrown back in ecstasy. He may, of course, have seen more, but to be honest I was never going to ask.

Either way, he whistled.

"Woah...excuse me lovers!"

Then he swiftly backed out, leaving the door swinging. For some reason that seemed to change the mood. Reality had intervened. We straightened ourselves up: me pulling up my straps; smoothing down my dress, reflexively touching my face where I could feel the burn of his stubble; him buttoning up; tucking in; pulling his hair back. My pussy was throbbing. He put his fingers, covered in my juices, to his mouth and licked each of them in turn.

"You taste amazing. Don't go thinking that's the last of it. Definitely to... be... continued."

He winked at me as he swung out of the room. Boom: the cocky bastard was back. I finished pulling my dress back into place and, checking the coast was clear, walked to the ladies'.

By the time I came out, everyone was clearing out of the bar – swaying between the tables, leaning over to grab their jackets, chatting in that, "Do-we-really-have-to-leave," way which means that goodbye always lasts at least half an hour. I stood there awkwardly, checking my phone and wondering if I should head for the night bus and look like I was still running the show, or hang around on the off-chance that he meant what he said and was up for more. 

My phone beeped. 

"Had to call it a night. Duty calls. OXO."

I sighed and decided not to reply. If there was going to be more, it certainly wasn't going to be tonight.

----

That weekend was a bright and sunny one, with azure blue skies and the heat of the blazing sun rising off the pavements. I had that nagging feeling that only the English summer can give you: seize the day or regret it tomorrow, when the heavens open. It was picnic time.

I picked up my phone and saw it was my voicemail. Dan's voice, whispering.

"Hey Sash, I'm outside. Didn't want to beep you in case your neighbours were in. You coming?"

My stomach flipped a little and I grabbed my bag, raced downstairs. 

After a long, lazy picnic in the park with Jackson and Sara, his new (and very affectionate) girlfriend, I was even more worked up than I usually was when having spent time with Dan. Jackson and Sara had spent most of the time snogging, pressing themselves together on the picnic blanket and generally being obviously in love. I lay there, surreptitiously glancing at their antics from behind my sunglasses and trying to see if Dan was feeling the heat too.

So, when Dan asked if I wanted a lift home as well, of course I accepted his offer. The sky was aglow with streaks of pink, purple and red, and as we got back on the scooter, he spoke.

"My place has an amazing view – the sunset'll look bloody fantastic from there. You wanna join me for one last drink there?"

Ok. A drink. We all knew what that meant: time for round two. Butterflies of excitement skittered around inside my tummy as I walked beside him.

A few seconds later, we were on the scooter, speeding through the sunset, the glow of the sky lighting up every street. I was dishevelled, stirred up. I could feel the heat emanating from his sun-warmed body and as I leant in, I could smell the delectable spicy scent of him. I could not wait to peel him out of those clothes and finally get naked with him.

His words from our store-room entanglement echoed in my head as we slowed to a block of flats: his place. He kicked out the stand and as I slid off the seat, he took my hand, leading me towards the door.

Inside the flat he took my helmet and set it on the sideboard. He stood there in his leather jacket looking at me, his eyes dark and serious. Looking back at him, I fumbled for the right words.

"I think-" I began, and then tailed off.

"You think too much, Sasha. Get naked."

It was a command, growled. What was I to do but obey? I peeled off my jacket, pulled my dress up over my head and, with another glance and another nod, unclipped my bra and pushed down my silky knickers so I was standing there naked, my skin buzzing, nipples standing to attention. He still stood there, eyes roaming over me, a smile playing across his face. He walked across to me and reached out, placing his tanned brown hand against the creamy whiteness of my breast.

Before I could think any more his mouth was against my neck, his hand was pushing my legs apart and his thick finger was pushing through the puffy, swollen lips, meeting no resistance as I was already sopping wet, his thumb pressing against my clit. I felt his fingers exploring the wet folds, searching me out, and I leaned against him to increase the sensation, letting out an involuntary moan which made him press himself against me harder.

Pushing him back, I undid his shirt, ran my hands over his chest. My fingers pulled at his fly, the pop of each button marking the moment. As he kicked off his jeans I knelt down in front of him and pulled on the waistband of his boxers, freeing his cock, which was straining upwards, rigid, hot, shining at the tip. Just seeing it made my pussy convulse again, imagining him inside me, how good it would feel.

He ran his hands through my hair as I knelt and swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, opened my mouth wide to suck him. He grasped the loose strands of my hair into a ponytail in his fist, pulling and pushing my head as his cock slid back and forward in my mouth, over my tongue. I loved the feeling of him controlling me, directing my movements, and looked up to see him gazing down at me, slack-jawed with pleasure as he fucked my mouth.

After a few minutes Dan pulled me up and kissed me again, harder this time, and he guided me to the bedroom. He pushed me down onto the foot of the bed and I scooted up, towards the pillow. Advancing towards me, he laid me back and ran his hands over me, my shoulders, breasts, my belly, and over my mound, his thumbs gliding over my inner thighs, pushing them apart.

He dipped his head and kissed me just below my hipbone, and then looked up, the corner of his mouth creasing into a smile.

"You're thinking again, Sash. Stop. You know you're going to enjoy this."

He leant down and pulled my lips open, concentrating as though he was splitting a ripe peach, careful not to bruise the flesh. A second later I felt the smallest tip of his tongue touch me, just at the very top where my lips start to pout out of the crease, and then slip slowly down into the slit. I exhaled, slowly, savouring the feeling of his mouth on me.
Fuuuuck that feels good Dan," I whimpered, and he responded by pulling me harder onto his mouth, licking and sucking with abandon. A moment later I felt his finger slide inside me as he kept up the assault on my clit. I didn't want to come but it was inevitable: I tried to pull away but he just grabbed my bum and kept going as I tipped over the edge into a body-trembling, hot-as-all-hell orgasm that made me squeal: actually squeal out loud.

As the tremors subsided, Dan finally released me from his ministrations and looked up at me proprietarily, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Did you like that?" he asked smugly, "It sounded like you did."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, covering my mouth with my hand.

"I don't think I've ever made that noise before so yeah, after careful thought I think I could say it was pretty fucking amazing," I replied. "What's next?" 

He rolled over to open his bedside drawer, reached inside and waved a condom at me, his dick standing up hard, pulsing. I rolled the condom onto him and knee-walked over the mattress until I was straddling him. As he slid inch by inch into me I exhaled, letting the feeling fill me. He stroked over my hips, his thumbs circling on the thin skin where my legs were stretched wide around him. 

He was fully inside me by then: hair slick sliding against each other as I started to rock on him, him tensing and pushing up to meet me. I reached down and tangled my fingers in the mane, my fingertips singing with the feeling of it.

Turning me over onto my back, he plunged into me, and I grabbed his hips and watched the little muscles there tensing as he rocked, his dick curving up inside of me, pulling out to nudge at the opening, twisting his hips to grind into me. Too damn good.

He leant down and kissed me again, buried his head in my neck and kissed me there before grazing downwards where he licked and sucked my left nipple, pulling it into his mouth. His hair hung down around us, skated across my skin, tickled me. I wanted to wrap myself in it like a cloak.

I pressed down on myself, pushing the base of my clit against him and splaying my fingers to feel the solid thickness of him sliding in and out of me as we fucked, his skin dark against my paleness. He leaned up on his arms and looked down at me, his eyes raking over my body, stilling himself. My insides clenched, clinging to him, and I could feel I was nearly there. I could tell he was too; his jaw was clenched and he had a far-away look.

I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes not to stop, to keep fucking me, and his movements sped up until he was pounding into me, my legs wrapped around his hips. Suddenly my orgasm hit and I cried out again, spasming around his dick. He buried his face in my neck and gripped me to him, moaning as he came too.

We lay there, tangled, his heart pounding against mine, and tried to catch our breath. He turned away from me and got up, padding over to the bin and disposing of the condom.

"Pretty good fit, hey?" Dan remarked, smiling like the cat that got the cream. 

"Yeah I guess you could say that," I replied, laughing to myself as I walked, naked, to the door, to retrieve my clothes from their resting place on the hallway floor. "I gotta go though – I've got a shift tomorrow and I don't want to get in your way." I struggled back into my dress, slid on my shoes, checked my makeup in the hallway mirror.

As I banged the door closed behind me I shook my head – what the fuck was I going to do now? He was right, we were a good fit: in the groin area, anyway, if nowhere else. I could still smell him on me, feel his hands on me. My pussy was still wet and puffy from our bout. I still wanted him and knew that I would be back there like a shot to continue with him.

----

A few weeks later and I hadn't seen much of Dan. A few texts, a few bum-smacks in the middle of a busy shift, but no more. In my mind I'd resigned our one-time fuck to the memory bin: something nice to think about and when I was on my own and feeling horny, but not something that was going to be the start of a full-blown romance. I'd started to think we had both known that what we had was something base and animalistic, something that needed to be worked out of our systems.

In the night, I woke up to the sound of my phone beeping. Text message received. The red light winked at me from across the room and I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and went over to retrieve it.

It was Dan.

"We broke up – thought you might like to know. Oxx."

I looked up from the phone and into the mirror, the room lit by the orange glow of a London night and the blue screen of my phone.

Mussed my hair. Slicked on some mascara. Pulled a dress over my head. No knickers needed. Pulled on my sneakers. Grabbed my jacket and walked out into the dark.

Fuck thinking for now: I didn't want to think anymore. I knew exactly where I was going.