Walking Home

WALKING HOME

In winter it doesn't have to be late to be dark but in this case it was. I was on my way home from the movies and decided to take the long way home, taking the main roads instead of ducking through back streets. There were a few people out and about, mostly ducking from restaurants trying to close into cars parked nearby. Past a trio of restaurants I saw the gaudy sign for a strip club with a large man in a suit standing by the door. A few metres further down were a couple of women falling over each other a little the worse for drink and as I drew nearer they appeared to be familiar.

Voula and Mariana own a cafe I used to all the time when I was still studying. I visit on the weekends now, since it's still a great place to sit and read, or write and daydream and watch the world (or at least the local suburbs) pass by.

Mariana immigrated from Brazil when she married a musician who'd been touring with a low-billing world music outfit. They were together long enough for her to gain citizenship but not quite long enough for him to realise what a great partner he had. She was home, studying homeopathy at a college in the CBD and three months pregnant when she discovered he'd been having an affair. I'm told her divorce lawyer was almost vindictive and Mariana did very well out of the proceedings. The stress took its toll, however, she miscarried the baby and ended up having a hysterectomy. He fled the country, hoping to re-establish himself on tour but died in a bus crash - in Sao Paolo as it happened, exactly where they'd met years earlier.

Voula's husband was in construction and died in an workplace accident. He wasn't able to have children after an injury as a child but it made no difference to Voula: she married Odysseos, the man of her dreams, built the house of her dreams and threw open the doors to all her friends and relatives. Her sister Christina's family was usually there every other week, two sets of twins, a bear of a husband and a bear of a dog.

Voula met Mariana in the offices of the same lawyer she Voula was suing for compensation in her husband's death. They bonded over their tragedies and became fast friends. Their cafe, "Brazilian or Greek", became a novelty for both name and menu, where the double entendres continued through most of the meal names. Their bawdy senses of humour and their big-hearted warmth made it a great place to be and on more than one occasion I had worked shifts for them when staff had been sick.

In the almost strobing light of the strip club, Voula and Mariana looked amazing - despite their disastrously inebriated manner. Drunks don't do a lot for me but knowing these two put paid to that and I didn't feel at all like I was taking advantage when I stopped behind them and whistled.

"Evening ladies," I grinned.

Mariana took a moment to recognise me but Voula threw her arms around my neck and planted a slobbering kiss on my mouth. "'Ullo sweet-cheeks!" she drawled.

"Oh Sam!" exclaimed Mariana, finally recognising me. "What are you doing here?"

I laughed. "I might ask you two the same question! Were you on stage or off?"

Voula put a hand over her mouth in mock alarm. "What are you saying, Sam?"

"I saw you come out of the club, V. You two..." I shook my head. "Good thing it's me who spotted you. If it was Darryl you'd be in some serious bother..."

Voula and Mariana screamed with laughter and clutched at each other. "Oh, Sam," said Mariana, "you're such a good guy. We always feel safe with you!"

I bowed and replied, "That's the plan. Once I've got the keys I'll be able to tie you both up and have my wicked way with you!" Voula slapped my shoulder.

"You wish. You wouldn't know what to do with us."

"Maybe just one then - maybe the other would like to help..." I raised one eyebrow to their incredulous faces, then threw an arm over the shoulders of each woman and we started moving down the street.

"Now I'm sure you ladies didn't drive here, am I right?" I asked. They shook their heads, then started squealing with laughter again. "Oh for fuck's sake..." I shook my head. "So who's crashing where, then?" We were passing a park, swings and bubblers and seats for Tarago mums to watch their spawn playing during the daylight hours. "Vee, you're probably closest, yes?"

She shook her head. "Chrissie's there with the kids." She stopped short and turned and put her right hand flat on my chest. "You're nearby! We could crash there - "

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes, Samsamsam," mumbled Mariana. She tried to stand up on her toes to kiss my cheek but got my shoulder sleeve instead.

"Nononononono, Em," I said. "I want to be able to have coffee at your shop without feeling like you're wondering what I did while you're asleep. If I'm going to take advantage of you two I'd rather you be sober."

They looked at each other and then almost smothered me in a hug. "Awww, Sammmmm," they crooned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm such a good guy." I extricated myself and held out my hands. "Mariana, you're only about what, half an hour's walk? We'll be home by two," I stated, looking at my watch. "You have water bottles?" They nodded in unison. "Give," I ordered, holding out my hands. After much fumbling, I took the Mount Franklin bottles to a bubbler and filled them up.

"You two aren't going to get far without a drink. Sit down here and have a chug." They sat next to me on a bench and, to her credit, Mariana drank the whole bottle with hardly a blink of an eye. Voula took a while longer but when she was finished I refilled their bottles and we started on our way.

Though it was cold there was no wind and the exertion of walking warmed all three of us up considerably. I took off my jacket and carried it and soon Mariana and Voula followed suit. Mariana shucked her knee-length black Burberry to reveal a gunmetal silk minidress with a halter neck and black calf boots. Her naturally tan skin gleamed gold and her hair glossy black in the streetlamp light. Voula's fur coat only reached to mid-thigh and the cold night air on her black stockinged legs had already encouraged her to set a swifter pace for the three of us. Now that she was warmer, she too carried her coat revealing a black baby-doll dress with a red lace collar and cinched under her breasts with a wide red leather belt.

"Are you sure you girls weren't on stage?" I joked. Voula punched my shoulder.

"Blame this one," she said, pointing at Mariana. "Me?" Mariana protested.

"Yes, you. We're sitting watching television, finishing off the moussaka I brought and opening the next bottle of wine - "

"Third," corrected Mariana.

"Third," amended Voula, "and this one says, 'Oh, I feel like going out.' I say, 'Em, babe, it's cold out there and it's ten o'clock...' and she says, 'Oh let's go to that strip club! It'll be nice and warm there. I want a lap dance!'" Mariana chuckled and I looked at her.

"Well, I did get one..." she smiled.

"Oi," interrupted Voula. "My story. So we're not driving, obviously, so i called a cab and four hours later, there you go."

"Oh, you liked it," crooned Mariana, moving up against her friend and shimmying her body against her, then moving in for a kiss. Voula returned the kiss passionately and I stood for a while waiting while Voula and Mariana let the moment take its course.

"Done?" I asked. Voula looked at me from under heavy-lidded eyes. "Jealous?" she asked. I held up finger and thumb. "Just a little bit." Mariana walked on, tugging down the hem of her dress while trying not to drop her coat.

"Hmmm," she murmured, then quickened her pace to catch up with her friend.

"Hmmm," I said to myself and likewise hurried to catch up. We passed another park where we stopped to refill water bottles. Not long afterwards, about ten minutes, we arrived at Mariana's house.

The house is old, weatherboard, and has certainly seen better days. Mariana is in a never-ending process of working on it and there have been numerous working bees and middle-of-the-night callouts to help with some thing or other. I like it and have never thought it needed changing but I've never had to live with the memories Mariana does. The centres of the front bedroom and the lounge room were both piled with clutter while the rooms were being painted.

The girls were sobering up, thanks to the exertion of walking and the intake of water, but past that Mariana was tired and when she tried to get her keys out of her bag, Voula simply took over and draped her friend in my arms. I half-escorted, half-carried her into her bedroom and simply lay back onto her bed with her next to me, then gently pulled my arm out from underneath her. Voula leaned against the door jamb, watching.

"You want a drink?" she asked? I raised an eyebrow in query. "Water," she laughed and I nodded yes. "I'll be back in a sec'."

Mariana opened her eyes groggily and looked around. "Whazzip...?" she mumbled. "Sam? Oh, Sammy-sam-sam Sam, I love you," she crooned, snuggling into my side.

"Em, you love everyone when you've been drinking too much." She slapped my chest with her hand, then sat up.

"I have to go to the toilet."

I pointed towards a door in the corner of the room. "Through there, hun." I got up and crouched at the foot of the bed, tugging off Mariana's boots. "I'll just grab these first - I'd hate for you to get all the way home then fall off your heels..."

She smiled dreamily. "Oh, Sammy-sam-sam Sam - " she began.

"I know. Toilet." I helped her up and gently propelled her towards the door, then switched on the lamp beside her bed and turned off the bedroom light. The hall light drew a bright yellow oblong on the carpet and I sat again at the foot of the bed and lay back, closing my eyes.

"Don't get too comfortable," said Voula throatily from the door. She held out a bottle of water.

"Thanks," I answered, taking it and emptying thirstily.

Voula sat on the bed where Mariana had been lying and drank from her bottle. "So what were you doing out so late?" she queried.

"Walking home from the movies. I went to the Astor. I know it's a hike but walking on a winter night - it's one of the pleasures of this city." I shrugged. "It's part of why I moved here."

She nodded. "So what did you see?" I laughed. "They had a Dustin Hoffman double. 'The Falcon And The Snowman' and 'The Graduate'." Voula laughed too and, putting her bottle down beside her, turned to me and said, "Well, I'm glad you walked home tonight. I'm sure we'll both sleep better tonight for your... assistance?"

"'I dare do all that may become a man'," I laughed.

"Oh really?" she breathed, then Voula took my face in her hand and drew me to her, planting her lips on mine, gently but with growing vigour. I dropped the empty bottle to the floor and reached beneath her arm and grasped her body close to mine. Her breasts pancaked between us as we tried, it seemed, to pull ourselves into each other, kissing hungrily with hands behind each other's heads in case one were to withdraw before the other.

Voula stopped for a breath, our foreheads pressing together as we stared fixedly into each other's eyes. "I want to fuck you, Sam," she panted.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

Voula snatched another hungry kiss as she laughed. "Yes, Sam, I am... She shimmied backwards slightly on the bed, using the space created to reach for my belt and began to take off my pants. I in turn reached past her neck to undo the buttons at the top of her dress. I had the more success and I knelt awkwardly upward, at the same time giving Voula better access to my pants and me the chance to kiss breathily down her neck and along her shoulder. She was breathing hard and shuddered as I pulled the fabric of her dress forward to expose her left shoulder and kissed the top of her arm.

"Kneel up," I breathed and as she did so I pulled up her baby doll dress and gathered it around her waist. She finally managed to uncinch my belt and took as little time to undo my fly as it took long to take care of my belt. I felt her warm fingers slip down the front of my boxer shorts and wrap themselves around my hardening cock. I shivered with desire in the dim light as Voula stared with her black eyes into mine, milking me with slow, firm strokes. With her free hand she guided my left hand between her legs.

"Put your fingers in me, Sam," she urged. I drew the backs of my fingertips down along her flesh from the lowest part of her belly, expecting to feel underwear and feeling only the tight curls of her pubes. Her cheeks drew up in a broad smile as she felt my surprise, then her mouth changed to an 'O' as, finding the hair more and more wet, I turned my hand over and plunged my fingers into her slick pussy. She groaned and began to pull more urgently on my dick. Our foreheads pressed hard against one another as our breathing began to pick up, then Voula gasped, "Fuck, stop. I want you in me!"

She let go of me and ran both her hands up my shirt, magically undoing buttons as she went and practically ripped my shirt back behind me. She pulled my singlet straight up in one move, my left hand above my head and her juices running down my arm. I leaned down and lifted her dress up over her head and gazed at her creamy flesh in the lamplight. She was paler than I imagined, given her Mediterranean heritage, and it was only then that I realised her belt and stockings must have come off in the kitchen as she was filling the water bottles.

Voula rolled onto her back and with one hand guided my dick into her pussy. I gasped with the silky sensation of her flesh around my cock and barely moved in and out with Voula's other hand behind my hips clutching my body against hers. I dropped my head to her breasts, kissing a path along her clavicle, down into her cleavage and around each of her areolae. She hissed through clenched teeth and I could feel her muscles in her cunt gripping rhythmically around my cock. I raised myself up on straightened arms and looked down at her, her eyes and teeth clenched shut, her cropped short hair spiky around her perspiring forehead. "Voula," I hissed. She opened her eyes wide, looking around unseeing for a moment, then met mine.

"Do you know how beautiful you are right at this moment?" I leaned down towards her and with a fierce yet dreamy smile on her face, she leaned up to meet me and again we waged a war of lips and tongue against each other. She sucked my lower lip in between hers, sucking in until with an audible 'pop' she let go and plunged down onto the bed, bowing her back until our ribs met.

She growled under hear breath, squeezing her belly muscles and clinging to my arse cheeks with both hands. I did likewise, squeezing my belly muscles and thus moving my dick with tiny movements inside her. Her eyes flew wide open and she groaned, "Yesss, oh fuck, yes, keep doing that!" She ground her hips from side to side and I gradually managed to move my hips up and down, rather than in and out, until suddenly I could feel myself on the brink of climax.

"Shit, Vee, I'm going to cum, hold up for a bit."

Her face screwed up in frustration. "Fuck, no, Sam, I'm almost there. Fuck, do your times tables or something!"

I laughed out loud, then I said, "Roll over - get on top of me." She groaned and I rolled to my left and half-pulled, half-guided her on top of me. She leaned forward and kissed me again. "Okay?" she asked. I nodded. "Give me a second." I took a few deep breaths as she sat up and ran her hands down over her boobs, her belly, pressing down hard just over her pussy. It almost felt like I could feel the pressure from inside her.

"Now, you," she said, leaning down to kiss me and hissing in my ear, "you don't fucking move. I haven't practised all these exercises so you can cum first!" She leaned back and slapped me lightly across the face, then plunged down again and rolled her hips as we kissed. She knelt up again and took both my hands in hers, lacing our fingers and leaning hard on my outstretched arms.

I lay back and looked up at her, the curves of her breasts and belly, her thighs stronger than I expected gripping my hips. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, hissing hard between her teeth and I began to feel her clenching her muscles in time with her breath. I squeezed my buttocks, moving my cock inside her and she caught her breath and gripped my hands tightly, painfully. "Just let me," she breathed.

She muttered under her breath and I focussed on trying to keep my own breathing under control. It was hard to ignore the flood of sensations, her cunt gripping my hardness like a slippery glove and her belly undulating until it too kept time with her panting. She unlaced her fingers from mine and turned our hands into a monkey-grip, leaning further and further back. I could feel my cock being pulled with her, not roughly but gradually, smoothly, until finally I felt more than heard her catch her breath.

"Uh," Voula gasped. "That's it... oh, fuck - fuck - fuck... oh-ho-ho- "

Suddenly I felt the muscles in her belly clamp down hard like a vise and I could almost feel every fleshy crease rubbing against my dick begin to spasm. It was so unexpected my throat caught and suddenly every nerve in my body from my toes to the top of my head caught fire in a rush towards my dick.

"Vee - " I choked, "I'm - I'm - "

She looked down at me: I could barely see her eyes, slitted with pleasure. "Do it," she said, then rolled her head back, chanting, "Do it - do it - do it - do it..."

And I did, my toes curling until I could feel one calf burst aflame with cramp. My breath suddenly came like I'd run the fifteen-hundred metres and I could feel my balls drain as burst after burst of jism bathed Voula's insides. I came for what felt like five minutes, could feel Voula's orgasm as it rolled through her body again and again. As I came down I became aware again of my cramped calf and Voula could no longer bend herself back so far. In the sweetest movement she pulled me up toward her even as she pulled herself down to me and as we met in the middle, feeling like I was doing crunches I'd happily do forever, she hugged me tight and we kissed hard, teeth knocking together and tongues fighting like epileptic snakes. Before long we had no energy even for that and she simply lay down atop me while I lay prostrate beneath her. My right leg felt overstretched still and with a bit of effort I managed to swing it around and off the bed, swinging from the knee back and forth, hoping to work the cramp out of my calf but really past caring.

I felt exhausted, even though I'd done little more than lie there, and we were both covered with sweat. I kissed the crown of head, stroked her back, ran my finger up her spine and scooped up the perspiration, brought my finger to my mouth and licked it clean. Salty. Warm. Delicious.

Voula leaned up and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, leaning on my chest and looking into my eyes. "I'm going to have to get you a cock ring if you can't learn to control yourself," she said, huskily.

"Oh, really?" I was surprised. "You'd want to do this again?"

Voula smiled. "Baby, you're not very long and you're not very thick - compared to some that are one or the other - but you hit my spot - perfectly. And that," she said, kissing my collarbone, "is worth its weight in gold. Just like my O..."

I was shocked. Not that we'd just had sex - I'd hoped for exactly that for years; not that we hadn't used protection - I know that we trusted each other enough that we likely wouldn't have used it anyway; that I was put into the same sex-shaped box as her dead husband. Shock gave way to pride.

"Hmmm," I murmured, "well, thank you very much. I'd have been privileged just to watch - I'm glad you picked me to play..."

Voula yawned, catlike. "It would've happened sometime, honey. I'm glad I beat Em to you... Us curvy girls have to work a bit harder sometimes."

"Hey," I said. "Your curves would give Rubens wet dreams for life. I'm glad you beat Mariana too. Surprised there was a contest," I admitted, "but flattered to be worth it."

Voula looked deeply into my eyes. "You're a good guy, Sam," she insisted. "You'll always have some woman in a contest and you'll never know when you're the prize. If you're lucky, neither will they." She smiled, her eyes crinkling and, using her knees, she moved herself up to kiss me soft and deep. She pulled away and began to kiss my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids, murmuring, "Ah, so beautiful..."

"Well," I said, "I might clean up a bit." I reached up to my left and drew over the pillows from that side of the bed.

Voula was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Just brace yourself on all fours for a sec'," I replied. I shimmied down between her legs to the foot of the bed, kissing the roundness of her belly as I passed, inhaling deeply the smell of our mingled juices between her legs, and halted there. I drew the pillows above me and underneath her body and said, "There, rest on those." She mumbled something but I missed it.

The muscles around her thighs and belly still spasmed a little and I began to kiss around there, moving closer and closer to the fleshy flower between her legs. I heard her breathe in sharply as she realised what I was doing and felt her relax as she resigned herself to it. My tongue darted up to lick at the sticky white drops eking out from among the dark folds of her labia - the taste of sweat, my semen, her juices flavoured exactly as she smelled, so rich and delicious.

I deliberately avoided her clit but sometimes, in my eagerness to get to every drop as the still-clenching muscles in the walls of her vagina squeezed the liquids out, I would brush it with nose or tongue and Voula's entire body would shudder. I continued to lick, soft and light, firmly, deeply, until all I could taste was only Voula. I ran my hand along her left leg, tracing lightly up her calf and thigh until it reached her buttocks, then down again to the warm wetness of her pussy.

I had a good idea of how far to reach in: my fingers are rather long and I think I have maybe a better working understanding of a woman's anatomy than some men but as I dipped two fingers in and ran them gently and firmly towards her G-spot, Voula gasped. "No more!"

I froze. "No?"

Her voice was throaty - I could almost see her pushing her body into the mattress above me. "Honey it's too much. I'll pass out if I keep cumming." She rolled over onto her right side and dragged the pillows past and behind her. "Just get back up here and spoon me."

I hesitated. "Maybe I should do something about Mariana first?" Voula put a hand over her mouth in surprise. "Yes! I'll bet she's fallen asleep on the toilet."

I stood and walked over to the door in the corner of the room, opened it. The toilet faced the door; along the wall a basin stood opposite an electric heated towel rail; past that, a shower: the small ensuite for the master bedroom. There sat Mariana, dress hiked up to her navel, knickers around one ankle, a wad of toilet paper in one hand, leaning against the cold tile of the wall. Snoring.

"Ever the lady, Em," I said, smiled. I took the wad of paper from her hand and dropped it into the bowl between her legs, then grabbed another wad from the roll, wiped her briefly and did the same. She hadn't even had the energy to pee.

"Can you turn down the sheets?" I called in a stage whisper to Voula. I squatted on Mariana's left, took hold of her legs in one arms and, lifting her body in the other, carried her over to the bed. Voula lay dozing fitfully, quilt, blanket, topsheet all pulled back almost to the floor. I deposited Mariana beside her and kissed both on the cheek, then pulled up the bedclothes to cover them both.

"Voula," I whispered. She grunted. "I'll be in the spare room if you need me, okay?"

"Mmhmmm," she yawned, reaching over and, finding Mariana beside her, pulling her close.

"You two," I sighed, shaking my head. I gathered my clothes from the floor and walked into the spare room, a third bedroom Mariana used for her computer and business filing, put on my boxers and turned down the bed in the corner. I went and used the bathroom, checked the house for lights left on, had a couple of mouthfuls of water in the kitchen.

Voula and Mariana would be asleep until well after eleven, I was sure. I set the alarm on my mobile phone for six and went to bed. Three hours would be enough, I thought, drowsily. I'll go open the cafe and let them sleep it off. Who was supposed to be opening anyway? I knew that one of their weekend casuals would be helping in the dining room but they wouldn't have a key.

Well, if I sleep in, they've brought it on themselves. If I wake up, well, I'm a good guy. What else would I do?