1. A Question of Gender


    Date: 10/30/2017, Categories: Bisexual, Author: marlowe, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    persistent snoring kept him awake most of the night but it was the sound of a car pulling onto the driveway that got him to his feet. Peering through a small gap in the curtains, blinking his eyes a couple of times, trying to focus in the darkness, the shadowy silhouette of a uniformed man stepping from a police car and walking towards the front door, the unexpected visitor throwing him into a retreating panic and bringing a nervous lump in his throat. “Wake up Sarah,” he grunted, pulling the duvet back and shaking her arm, trying to interrupt her snoring slumber. “There’s a fucking policeman at your door,” he croaked, his voice melodramatic and a little too high, pacing nervously across the room, a touch of OCD forcing him to straighten a tilted picture frame hanging on the wall, peering through the curtains again, staring into the darkness, waiting for a knock at the door that never came. “Don’t worry,” she sighed, catching a glimpse of her naked body. “It’s only ‘Speed’ coming home from his shift,” she added, pulling the duvet back, decency demanding that she covered her middle-aged spread and an unsightly caesarean scar. “My leg hurts, you animal,” she croaked, ignoring his anxiety, leaning over the bed and turning the table light on, yawning into her hand and checking the time on the clock. A head spinning in confusion, his heart beat increasing by the minute, his voice growing into a cursing bark, “Speed.....Who the fuck is Speed?” “That’s his nickname. We live ...
    together,” she said, with casual ease. The ominous sound of heavy footfalls thudding across the timber floor of the living room suddenly fed his panic. He quickly gathered his clothes from the bedroom floor pulled up his pants and slipped into his shoes, nervously scanning the room, tracing the availability of opening windows should he need to make a quick exit. “Relax, Mark. Speed’s not a jealous or violent man,” she said defensively, smiling through big teeth and a long throaty yawn. “A fucking copper, who takes fucking speed, is not something I find amusing,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoe laces and slipping into his shirt, lost for any rational words, a claustrophobic quiet descending on the room. Watching and waiting. A polite voice echoing up the stairs broke the silence. “Sarah, sweetheart.... I’m making coffee. Would you like me to bring you one up?” He shuffled nervously on the bed, his eyes open like saucers, staring at Sarah, his facial expression steadfast and uncompromising, moving his head from side-to-side, a motioning gesture and wordless mouth signalling that her answer should definitely be no. “Yes please, Speed.....And will you bring one up for my friend, Mark?” she answered, in a calm voice with no emotion. “How does Mark take his coffee....?” he enquired, his echoing voice fading into silence as he waited anxiously for confirmation. “He wants to know how I like my fucking coffee,” he repeated, almost losing control of the volume of his ...
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