The Blue Guide Read Online Free Page B

sure I wasamply lubed. Two fingers were pushed into my arse in an exploratory mission, then three. Over my shoulder I watched him wank himself to maximum stiffness, then, at a point where he deemed both of us ready, he brought the bulb of his cock to my entrance. He let it rest there for a few minutes, and I felt the silky polished skin of his head as it snuffled against my hole like some small burrowing creature. Impatient, I had the overwhelming urge to stretch my arms back behind me so I could hold his hips in place with my hands and force myself back onto him, impale myself. Only I couldn’t because of the damned stocking.
    â€˜Oh God,
please
– just fuck me,’ I heard myself moan, and I was shocked by the ferocity of my desire. ‘Please Dan, I can’t take this.’
    Acquiescing at last, he drove into me, slowly but powerfully, one hand clamped on my breast beneath me. My pussy ground against the wood of the boat as we moved back and forth, but not uncomfortably – in fact, the way my clit rubbed against its damp surface, the friction that was generated, soon had me on the verge of climax. I managed to stave it off until I felt Dan was nearing his, and then I closed my eyes and gave myself over to a darkness deeper than night.
    We’d fucked ourselves raw, and back at the hotel we wanted nothing more than to share a bath, a plate of pasta and a bed. The doors to the dome room opened invitingly onto the circular table where we had had such an extraordinary encounter the previous night, but even that wasn’t enough to lure us in. Propped up against a mountain of squidgy pillows, we lay together, me between Daniel’s legs with my back against his chest. He was in his bathrobe, though it wasn’t fastened; I was naked, and could feel his balls nestledagainst the crack of my bum, the soft hairs of his chest against my back. I felt safe, protected. We found a double bill of old Hitchcock movies on some cable channel and watched them before ordering up more hot chocolate. As I abandoned myself to asleep, I imagined I could still feel the rocking motions of the boat as we laying holding each other, our orgasms subsiding, lulling me.

4
    THE FOLLOWING NIGHT I stayed at home, recuperating from my two days of excess with Daniel over an Indian takeaway, a bottle of Kingfisher beer and a rental DVD of
Alfie
– the original with Michael Caine, not the inferior remake with Jude Law. Daniel had been in meetings all morning but I was scheduled to show him some of the key locations of the film the next day, including 22 St Stephen’s Gardens near Notting Hill, site of Alfie’s grimy bedsit. Needless to say, I was really looking forward to seeing him again.
    It wasn’t to be. The morning after, while I was still in bed, my phone rang.
    â€˜Ally, I’m sorry about this,’ Daniel began, and as I heard him exhale a mouthful of cigarette smoke I imagined his soft, hot breath against my neck as our naked bodies slid against one another. The thought made me swoon back against my pillow. I sat bolt upright again when I heard what he had to say next.
    â€˜I’ve been called back to LA at short notice,’ he explained. ‘There are some major post-production problems on a movie I’m involved with. But keep all your notes, yes? We’ll do the tours some other time, when I next come to town. Your research wasn’t in vain. And I’ll still pay for the time I booked, obviously.’
    I opened my mouth but the words didn’t come, and I was suddenly made brutally aware of how exposed my emotions had left me. I wasn’t at all sure, from the way Daniel was speaking, that our affair, or whatever youwanted to call it, had touched him on the same level. I determined to hide my disappointment.
    â€˜No problem,’ I said coolly. ‘These things happen. It’s no big deal.’
    There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Daniel said quietly,