Suck, Blow, Bang!

"Hey Babelicious!" shouted Stanley from the kitchen as I walked through the door.
"There's a letter for you".

I throw my keys onto the top of the side cabinet, kick off my high heels, fling off my coat and drop my handbag as I make myself to our big comfy sofa leaving a trail of accessories along the hallway.

"Dinner is in an hour, it's chicken casserole. I chucked in some of that red wine in it, you bought the other day". He licks off some of the sauce from the wooden spoon and continues stirring.

This was the norm on a monday evening for the occupants of flat 809, Kensington Road.

Stanley always cooked on a monday evening. Cooking for me was on the same par as toilet cleaning. You can get through life without ever having to do it yourself. Most of the time there was someone else around to do it.

Besides I did not have the time to cook and boiling an egg was as far as my cooking knowledge stretched to. I did at one time think of having cooking lessons but life is too short!

So I was delighted to have a flatmate who loved cooking and it was top class cooking. Stanley had the ability to rustle up mouth-watering concoctions with the minimum of effort.

"It smells nice! God! I'm starving"!

I pick up the small envelope that Stanley had left for me on the coffee table before flopping onto the sofa in one big heap.

It was addressed to me and it certainly did not look like a bill. Whoever wrote it had very neat hand writing.

Friends always wrote via email and anything else that managed to get pass the rottweiler from flat 810 were always bills. So I was a trifle intrigued at who it was from. And it appeared so did Stanley.

"Who is it from?" Stanley has now entered the living room and taking off his apron he enthusiastically sits next to me and starts to massage my feet.

I unfolded the lightly coloured "maison blanc" paper that was smooth as the envelope that it was in. Basildon Bond. How nice I thought.

"Dear Sandra,

I hope you do not mind me taking the liberty to obtain your address from Emma as I did not get the opportunity to ask you in person.

I trust you had a good train journey back to London. Hope your feet have recovered from the walk you did on Saturday?

It was great to meet you and I only wish we had more time to get acquainted better.

I will be leaving for my Kilimanjaro trip in a weeks' time and on my return I will be away for a further two weeks flying out to Zurich on a business trip. I am back on the 28th July. Perhaps we can meet up for a drink after I land at Heathrow.

Failing that I am in London on the 3rd August for a week at a Conference.
Do you like Japanese food? I know of a great Japanese restaurant in Chinatown.

My mobile number is 07856 001290

I look forward to seeing you when I get back in the country.

Yours
Michael"


"Who's Michael?" Stanley grins and starts sucking my big toe. He knows how much I love having my big toe sucked! I squeal with pleasure and hit him with a cushion.

Slightly distracted from the pleasure it takes me a few seconds to remember.

Emma. Of course!
Emma was my bosom girlfriend who I had visited and stayed with three weekends ago.
And Michael was the gentleman I met at her dinner party.

I remember now.
"He's a chap I met at Emma's party, he's very nice"
Stanley sucks harder which sets me off into fits of giggles.

Yes how can I possibly forget Michael. He had the charm and sophistication of a Mr Darcy, the witty humour of Hannibal King ( Ryan Reynolds) from Blade Trinity, and the looks and body of
Christine Bale and Josh Holloway put together!

I remember nearly choking on my Pina Colada when he came over to introduce himself to me and shook my hand. I had felt so aroused with his body so close to mine and when he planted a kiss on my hand before apologetically departing early from the party I had wanted to engage in bedsports with him there and then!

Stanley was getting well into the toe sucking now and he started to move his hands towards my panty at that point the phone begins to ring.
We both groan. Stanley presses the handsfree on the phone.

"Hello, the Huxtable resident"
The CosbyShow TV series was one of Stanley's old time favourites and occasionally he would act the idiot.

"Is Sandra there?" The deep voice belonged to Boris.

I gesture a no with my hands.

"No sorry she's not back home yet. Can I take a message?"
"No that's fine. I'll ring back a bit later".

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

I did not fancy another night with Boris. Three nights in a row was getting a bit too intense for me. And my bosoms were still sore from his excessive fondling last night.

Stanley seemed determined to get my panty off. We wrestle on the floor for a while. Giggling and laughing like little children. I could see that he was starting to get aroused.

He yanks my panty off from under my skirt. I yank off his trousers and pants in return and start sucking at him.
Before Stanley could reach his climax there comes a big bang from the kitchen.

"SHIT!"

We both leap up, Stanley nearly falling over his own trousers and darted into the kitchen.

We both stand with our mouth open.

The bang had come from the oven. There was black smoke coming off it.
Inside, the casserole dish had broken and the chicken and its juices started to overflow onto the floor.

"Holy SHIT!" I exclaim

"Holy FUCK!" adds Stanley

There was Stanley standing half naked and me with my half hanging bra and tousled hair and smudged lips. We both burst out laughing at the same time.

At that precise moment the door bells rings!



Copyright@ 2009 Sandra Fox

The Night Job

Sip.

“1977 – SNAKE
Those born under this sign are usually considered clever, passionate (Oh that’s me alright!), determined (let me think about that…), romantic (oh yes, yes, yes Brad, take me now!), intense and rich in wisdom (Stanley blurts out laughing, nearly choking on his coffee) and charm, but vain (me? never!)”

I take another sip of my coffee and continue reading my Chinese horoscope, ignoring Stanley pulling faces and his cheeky sniggers. He’s been very happy as of late with the news of his recent promotion at work.

“Women born under snake are often beautiful. (I smile). Snakes will be strongly guided by their intuition. They certainly will win a lot of money (I want to know exactly when?) but have to avoid procrastination (Ah! yes procrastination! I’ve still not done my CV yet and it’s been over a month since I promised myself I would) and stingy attitude towards money. Marriage with a Rooster or Ox not a Pig will be best."

Sip.

“I got to scoot. Thanks so much for washing the dishes this morning.” I give Stanley a kiss on the cheek before I dash to the bathroom to get ready for work.

I was not looking forward to going into work today. It was office meetings back to back and more meetings. I had pondered about having another duvet day but alas decided against it. I had exhausted my list of excuses. It was a bad migraine last month and previous to that a bad stomach.And I couldn’t very well use the same excuse again within two weeks that the pet dog died and that I was mortified sick. It was a surprise to many that I even had a pet dog!

I take my usual detour to Starbucks before work.
I’ve been sad lately having not seen Mr. Chiselled Drop-Dead gorgeous make his regular morning appearance.
It’s been a couple of months now and I had wondered what’s happened to him.

It was starting to rain heavily as I make my way to the office.
I felt as gloomy as the weather! And just when I think things couldn’t get any gloomier one of my shoe heel breaks and a tear on my new stocking.

“Rhubarb!” I curse as I enter the work’s building.

“Are you OK?” asks Tom.

“NO!” I reply back and push straight pass him without giving him a chance to ask why. I astounded even myself with the harshness of the tone. Tom scurries off with a look of bewilderment. I feel a pang of guilt as I had not intended my reply to sound so harsh.

I tell myself no time to ponder now and feel guilty.
It was going to be a busy day and a busy evening.

“You seem to be in an awful rush tonight, have you got a date tonight?” Lucy grins.

“Bye, have a good evening Lucy”

“Bye Sandra”.

Thank god the rain had stopped. My heart was pounding with excitement as I make my way to the tube station.

Tonight was the night I was going to try out my new dance routine at the Club.
I just had enough time to attend the Coffee Club meet-up, then rush home, grab a bite, shower and get my gear ready for the Club.

9.30pm. It was raining again. And the bus was late tonight.
10.00pm. Where is that blasted bus?!

11.10pm I rush through the back door of the Club.

“Where have you been?” Bryan looks flustered and hyper tensed.

“I was beginning to worry that I had to get a last minute replacement for you!”

“Have I got time for a coffee?” I cheekily ask knowing fair well that I didn’t have time. I was due on the stage in 20 minutes.

“Rosezetta! please do hurry!”

Rosezetta was my stage name that I used at the Club.

“OK! OK! I’m going to get changed now! Don’t panic!”

11.30pm. Bryan makes the announcement on the microphone.

“And now we have the beautiful ROSEZETTA. Please give her a round of applause”

The lights dim and the music starts. After many hours of practising and bruised limbs this was my moment of truth. I was eager to show off my new moves to perfection!

I felt sexy. I felt good. I do my twirls and slither up and down the pole, like a snake!
Clad only in a black silk G-string and an Ex’s tie and red high heels (£180 from Cobblers) I was proud to show off my curves.

The men whistled and applauded which made me felt even sexier!
I catch a glimpse of Bryan’s face standing by the bar. He looked pleased with the reaction from the crowd.

I clasp my bosom and bend over with my bottom facing the pole and the audience.
Bottom swaying and legs provocatively spread apart. I toss my long thick mane, enticingly.
My hair was my crowning glory. Having it cut and short would be like halving my sexuality.

I twirl some more and spin round the pole and upside down.

And now for the final touch to the dance.

“You can do it girl!” I hear myself saying.

From V invert to Butterfly to Superman and I land on my feet!

There was an uproar from the men. Some are now on their feet applauding and whistling, shouting and a few rubbing themselves!

As I do my bow and cheekily lick my finger to signal the end of my appearance, from the corner of my eye I catch the look of one of the applauding men.
He looked familiar. I turn to try to get a better look at him. My heart jumps a beat.

It was Mr. Chiselled Drop-Dead gorgeous from the Café in the mornings!
He was even better looking than two months ago when I last saw him and the blue silky shirt he was wearing accentuated his fit physique.

Harriett walks into the changing room. I am busy with wiping off the makeup from my face.


“I’ve been asked to give you this note from a dark-haired gentleman with a blue shirt.

By the way well done on the new moves”

I open the note it read: “Dinner Sunday 8pm. I wouldn’t take NO for an answer”

I scribble my answer next to his invitation.

I turn to face Harriett.
“Thanks! Can you be a darling and give this note back to him, thank you”

I smirk and continue with my facial cleansing.

On the note I had written “I will say yes depending on your answer to - Are you a Rooster, Ox or a Pig?”



Copyright @2009 by Sandra Fox

No Pain No Nescafe!

I'm lying on the floor in the middle of our living room. The TV screen is vibrantly alive showing a woman in a similar position. Her voice is of an octave pitch.

"And squeeze and squeeze"
There is a momentary pause. "And squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze!"

My thoughts are if I squeezed any harder the coil in the instrument between my thighs would recoil violently and spending the rest of my evening in the Accident&Emergency Unit with a dislocated vagina was far from appealing!

The idea was to strengthen the inner thighs making them toned. It was not suppose to be a painful ordeal. Which part of "no pain no gain" was I not understanding?

"Now onto our next exercise.... working those gluteus maximus"

She is too good looking for my liking. She looked like the typical french woman who was slim but thinks she is fat. While I was the typical British woman who was slightly plump but is convinced that I'm slim!

I follow obediently. I raise my pelvis and squeeze my bottom as hard as I can as instructed.

12 more.. 11... 10.... My right hand reaches down and touches the right bum cheek. I have to confess I like the feel of firmness. It motivates me to keep going before my derriere flops back onto the floor in an excruciating heap. My bum cheeks feels like they are on fire. Which part of "no pain no gain" was I not understanding?

It is a Friday evening and I had the whole flat to myself. Stanley had gone out for his usual religious drinks with the boys. After a hectic week the last thing I wanted was to be in company.

I was looking forward to a night-in on my own. And use the exercise DVD bought from last Christmas followed by a nice soak in the bath and read my book -"Secret Habits of Successful Bastards: the Self-Help book for people who are too Nice"

It was recommended by one of my fellow Coffee Club members. Fred. Ah yes Fred! My mind drifts to gorgeous Fred. He is not quite the Anthony Stewart Head but beggars can't be choosers!

The door bells rings. I lie there reluctant to move. I was not expecting anyone and I was finishing off my workout with meditation. Empty your mind...... I picture myself walking down the Catwalk and everyone is cheering me. Miss Derriere 2009! Concentrate! Empty your mind.

The door bell rings again beckoning for attention.

"Oh blast" I retorted. A trifle annoyed I grab my oversized tee-shirt and it slithers over my body effortlessly. Compliments of Henry. In fact, most of my tee-shirts were from "borrowed and not returned" Ex's.

I open the door. "Hello?"

"Oh Sorry to bother you but I'm having a dinner party and I seem to have run out of coffee."

It was our neighbour from the flat below. He had moved in about a month ago.

Wasn't this the part that he (I) invites her ( him) in?

It's been some time since I've seen the Nescafe Gold Blend advert. There was something very wrong about this one. I'm sure I remembered he was tall, smooth and sexy looking. But here stood a short, bald, fat man bearing a smile like a hyena.

I blurt out "No, Sorry I dont' drink coffee!" and quickly close the door.

I stand for a minute, not quite sure what to make of the obtrusion. I shake my head as I walk towards the DVD player. I take out the DVD and place it into it's case.

It was a good workout. And I was pleased with myself.

The door bell rings again! This time I am more than a trifle annoyed.
Which part of "no" did he not understand!
I swing open the door expecting to see my neighbour again, instead.

"Boris!" I exclaim.

"You fancy a coffee?" in his usual seductive deep voice. He moves swiftly and the next thing I know I feel his hands on my hips. I gasp with surprise and before I could even object his warm lips envelopes mine. His leg eases the door closed behind him. I give a muffled "No".
Was this the part when a woman says "No" when she really means "Yes"!?

Copyright@2009 Sandra Fox