1. Wind of Change (Circa 1975)


    Date: 2/19/2016, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    that would make any heart surgeon frown in disgust he was surprised to see Fiona sitting at a table having breakfast. He mumbled a greeting and pulled up a chair at her table. A crippling moment of unnerving silence hung over the table. She glanced around the room at the empty tables, shuffled nervously in her chair and forced a smile. He thought the re-acquaintance of her knickers might break the apprehension. It didn’t. She just stared in horror and disbelief at the flimsy underwear on the table, forced another smile and kept her eye on the floor manager. A mouthful of greasy food and a couple of gulps of black coffee, the cobwebs of anxiety and her pretence of innocence dismissed in a coronary heartbeat, his enthusiasm brutal and uncompromising, her virtue and modesty fading by the second, a detailed narrative of their night of impetuous pleasure spilling between mouthfuls of food. He told her that her oral sex was a mind-blowing and unforgettable experience, apologising for making her gag when he delivered his sticky mess into her mouth. She choked back a nervous lump in her throat and shifted her weight in her chair, never once taking her eye off the floor manager. A friendly hand on his shoulder interrupted the shadier details emerging about the anal sex over the balcony, the unexpected gesture prompting him to look over his shoulder. The shock, the surprise and disbelief, his eye wide open, his jaw hanging loose, his face a comical mask of uncertainty, turning ...
    back and staring at the girl sitting at the table, moving his head back and forth like a spectator watching a game of tennis, opening and closing his mouth in wordless confusion, the cold chill of nausea sweeping over him, the weight of dread dropping into the pit of his stomach, his breakfast threatening to make an appearance. “I see you’ve met my twin sister Lorna,” Fiona replied, a playful smile curling the corners of her mouth, removing her hand from his shoulder and pulling up a chair at the table. “Can I help you?” a serious voice enquired, interrupting his holiday reverie. Turning quickly on his heels and almost losing his balance, a short pleasant looking fat man with wire rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose and sporting a neatly trimmed moustache peeked suspiciously through a gap in the door. “My name’s Mark Brand. I’m a building surveyor. I’ve made arrangements to carry out a survey for the building improvements,” he said, his words evaporating in a cloud of white mist, the fat man ignoring his outstretched hand as he opened the door. “I have a nine o’clock appointment with a Mrs Julie Reid,” he confirmed, lowering his hand and pulling his leather glove back, checking the time on his watch. The fat man brushed hair from his face, raised a cynical eyebrow and gave him a long look. He was clearly not interested in exchanging pleasantries and despite appearances he was disrespectful and ill-mannered. “Come inside,” he invited, the authority in his voice and ...
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