Tuesday 18 May
~ Daisy ~
I gazed at the window display but didn’t see any of it. Instead, I watched the reflections of people behind me on the street. Waiting for Charlie.
We’d arranged to meet at this exclusive Chelsea Bistro, but I was early, and the prospect of going in alone made my stomach tie itself in knots. Instead, I pretended to be interested in the lingerie shop next door.
I’d been sleeping with Charlie on and off, for six months. At first, I was thrilled he wanted me more than one night. But then, I accepted the truth. I wanted more. I wanted the full deal.
More than rock star Charlie was ever likely to offer.
It didn’t help that we lived three hundred miles apart. I worked as nanny for his brother’s child, in a remote Welsh village, while Charlie enjoyed his playboy lifestyle in London. He partied with the best of them.
I needed to make some decisions. Carry on with our pseudo-relationship as it stood, tell him what I really wanted, or back away before he completely trashed my heart. The fuck-buddy approach hurt too much when I saw him with other chicks, but I didn’t like the other two options. What should I do?
Unable to decide, I’d called him and announced I’d be coming down to the city for the weekend. He immediately suggested we see each other, and now I was here. Waiting to meet him.
At last I caught a glimpse of his bleached spiky hair reflected in the window glass, and then a flash of his panty-melting smile. It was a month since I’d seen him, and my knees immediately went weak.
“Daisy. Baby.” He snuck his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. I breathed in his woody scent. Nobody smelled as good as Charlie. “You thinking of buying something? We can have a browse if you like.”
He pointed at one of the models in the display. “That’s kinda horny. I could see you wearing that.”
I huffed a laugh. “Oh come on, Charlie. That’s for tiny-skinny-women. Not chubby ones like me.”
He ran one hand down my back, and caressed my very generous bum. “You have curves, babe. They’re gorgeous.” Standing behind me, one arm draped around my waist, skimming the other up my side, he paused when he reached the curve of my breast. “Who says you’re chubby? And why would you care?”
This was so unfair. I wanted to keep the conversation light and frivolous, make him smile and be delighted by me, not zoom in on my insecurities.
“So,” he said. “Let’s go and check ‘em out.”
Not only would this high-class shop completely empty my bank balance, there’s no way they’d have anything in my size. I couldn’t go in there. “I don’t know. I just think this sort of thing is more suited to a glamour model. Not your more basic model. Not me.”
Mistake. Charlie grabbed my hand and propelled me into the shop.
My cheeks burned as the sales assistants in the shop gushed over me. I’m sure you could fry eggs on my face, it was so hot. They whisked me into a changing room, and before I knew it, I stood there in just my white cotton panties. They wielded their tape measures, muttering to each other, and jotting notes on a little pad.
36D on top, they agreed, with size fourteen bottoms.
Charlie, of course, loved the attention.
I heard him through the door, selecting one item after another. Brand names I’d never heard of. Swiss hand-crafted lace, and fine Chinese silk were mentioned.
Would they even have anything in my size?
What if I put my clothes back on, and walked out? Charlie laughed on the other side of the door, the dirty chuckle that was capable of reducing me to a trembling mess. He was having fun. I didn’t want to be a prude.
I sank onto the padded seat. Christ. This little antique-looking chair probably cost more than a year of my salary. They’d left me with a satin robe to wear, and I clutched the front to hold it across my chest. I was trapped in lingerie hell.
I’d barely wriggled into the first set, a silky bra in muted silver with black lace panels, matching panties and a garter belt with black stockings, when I heard a knock at the door. I tugged the robe back on, and called a reply. “Yes?”
I didn’t know whether to be amused or shocked when Charlie strolled in and locked the door behind him.
“But… what… you can’t come in here.” My voice rose to a squeak.
He just grinned, and my heart contracted at the sight. I swore his smile could melt glaciers. I still had to pinch myself sometimes, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Me and Charlie Jones. It was unreal.
I tried to look cross, but it didn’t have any effect. Without a care in the world he reached out and plucked the robe open, peeking at what lay beneath.
“Whoa.” He sounded genuinely surprised and I felt embarrassed all over again. God. Where was the hole in the ground when you needed it?
He didn’t say anything else and I died a thousand deaths. The silence stretched on.
Glancing down at myself, I felt a pang of disappointment. The bra had done a magnificent job of taming my breasts, while black stockings worked wonders for making my legs appear slim. But I still couldn’t compare. I was like a baby elephant in comparison to the waifs he normally dated. I raised agonized eyes to look at him, scared at seeing distaste, or worse, on his face.
Instead, he eased the robe back from my shoulders, sliding it to the floor in a soft swirl of fabric. His gaze was intent. He studied me as you might examine a rare piece of art.
“Jesus, Daisy. You look beyond stunning.” His voice was hoarse. What? I felt shy now. His hands caressed me, stroking the soft fabric, turning me to look at the back view, the sides, staring at the fine details. His hot fingers slipped inside the stocking tops, inside the panties.
I gulped. Desire, swift and urgent poured through me. “Charlie,” I whispered. “You can’t do that. Not here.”
“I told them to leave us alone. We can do whatever we like.”
I laughed and clapped a hand over my mouth. His eyes darkened under my gaze. The air felt charged between us.
Whatever we liked? Surely not that.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you, Daisy.” His voice was a rough whisper. “And now, seeing you so beautiful before me, I have to have you.”
I hesitated. Did he mean here? In the changing room? Heat uncurled in my gut, and the breath caught in my throat.
“Come here.” He pulled me into his arms, kissing my throat, and moving up to take my lips. It scorched me even before he slanted his mouth and eased me closer. Our bodies pressed together, my silk clad breasts against his shirt, our hips and thighs touching all the way down.
“Do you want me, Daisy?” His whisper brushed against my ear. I closed my eyes, the electric sensation of his breath against my skin sending a fresh wave of shocks down my body.
“God, yes.” Hungry for his lips I tilted my face, seeking him out.
“Take these off.” He slipped a warm hand inside the panties, and helped to slide them away down to the floor, to join the robe. “Yes, that’s good.” He parted my legs. I couldn’t speak. This was impossible. We couldn’t do this, here, in a changing room.
I moaned when he dropped to his knees, and pressed his mouth between my legs. With his hands smoothing up and down the black stockings, he slid his tongue into position over my slit, and I shuddered, swallowing down a groan.
“You can’t,” I murmured, my hands tangled in his short hair, not resisting in the slightest.
“Watch me.” I giggled softly, delighted by his nerve. He looked up, his brown eyes almost luminous. “Really, Daisy. Watch me.”
The mirrors. Entranced, I gazed around me. Without moving, I saw myself from multiple angles, standing there with legs apart, and Charlie worshipping me with his mouth. I felt as though I’d stepped outside my body for a moment, as though I’d become a voyeur, watching another woman with the man I loved.
I jumped back to reality with a groan I couldn’t suppress. One long finger joined his tongue, slipping deep inside me, pressing against me, causing another drawn out shudder. He murmured to me, his voice muffled. “Tell me.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.” I managed, my legs trembling as his finger plunged in and out, his mouth gently sucking. “Oh, God, I want you.” I came in a rush, trembling and quaking, my legs buckling and threatening to give way.
He grunted, slipped his tongue inside me once more while I gasped, helpless, drugged with desire. Daring now, any pretence of restraint gone, I hauled him upright, and fumbled with his jeans, pulling them open with my clumsy fingers.
“Condom?” I could hardly speak. He smiled, produced one from a pocket and covered himself. It took seconds. His triumphant grin sent another tremor through me, and my knees shook with the effort of staying upright.
“Kneel down on the floor,” he whispered in my ear. “I want to see your gorgeous arse while I fuck you.”
Oh. God. He moved behind me, nudged my legs wider apart, and then thrust deep inside me. I swear he’d never been so deep. Nobody had ever taken me like this before.
Rational thought ceased to exist. I became a puddle of sensations: his fingers on my breasts, his lips on my neck, his tongue swirling around the base of my ear, hot breath against my skin, my insides tightening and tensing around him as I came and came again.
~ Charlie ~
I watched Daisy pull the silk knickers back in place, sliding them up her legs with a velvety shushing noise. Her thighs, pale and soft, were endlessly tempting. I’d like to spend the next few weeks with them wrapped around me.
Her old bra and panties were stuffed into the bag with the rest of the new lingerie, while I explained politely that she’d wear the grey silk set to go. There were knowing smiles from the women behind the counter but I didn’t care. I burned for her again and judging by the incandescent smile on Daisy’s face she felt the same.
Grabbing her hand, I led her outside and paused for a lengthy kiss on the pavement. I loved the way she melted into my arms.
“Do you still want lunch, Daisy, or should we save ourselves for dinner?”
“Dinner.” She smiled fully at me, her eyes dancing. Meshing our hands together, we turned and headed down the street, as I contemplated the options.
“I’ve got some friends crashing in my apartment at the moment, so we won’t have the place to ourselves. Let’s go back and grab some things, then find a hotel for the night.”
I kissed her hard. Hailed a cab. Kissed Daisy some more. God, I couldn’t get enough of her.
Half an hour, and another cab later, I squeezed Daisy’s hand. “So, babe. Where do you fancy? The world is our oyster.”
“I didn’t bring my passport, so it’s a rather small oyster. I don’t mind. Where do you think?”
“Town somewhere? The Killers are playing tonight if you fancy a gig. Or we could head into the country.” I pulled a teasing face, and adopted a bad Welsh accent. “I guess you see enough of the countryside already, in deepest darkest Wales, boyo?”
“Boyo.” She snorted, amused. She smoothed her hands down the denim skirt she wore. “I didn’t bring much in the way of clothes, so somewhere I don’t have to dress up, please.”
I needed a drink, and a joint wouldn’t go amiss either. My decision was made. “Right. We’ll find some ridiculously overpriced hotel for a siesta, and then we’ll check out the Killers gig.”
I asked the driver to head for the city centre while I made some calls. Just one call actually, to Shirley, my scarily efficient PA. She recommended Blacks in South Kensington for an opulent boutique hotel, and rang back minutes later to confirm a room booking, and tickets to the gig at the Albert Hall. Bloody amazing. Now I could concentrate on Daisy again.
I hadn’t stayed at Blacks before. We both stared at our room in silence, then turned to each other and collapsed in a fit of laughter. Opulent? Yes. Completely over the top would be a more accurate description. From the red curtains draped around the four-poster bed, to the hunting prints on all the walls, it looked more like a stately home than a central London hotel.
Daisy explored the suite, giggling at the sight of the décor, while I busied myself calling down to Room Service for some drinks and snacks.
Daisy wasn’t much of a drinker, and she was hesitant about touching spirits in the middle of the afternoon. I compromised with a bottle of champagne and made us both some Bolly-Stolly cocktails—Bollinger and Stolichnaya vodka. Mine was heavier on the vodka. On reflection, Daisy had few vices, if any. She didn’t smoke, wouldn’t touch drugs and rarely swore. It begged the question, what the hell did she see in me?
One cocktail later she became giggly, completely ignoring my vodka top-ups as I dispensed with the champagne. Several glasses later, I felt more chilled, and I went to find Daisy and interrupt her bath. She’d been unable to resist the lure of the giant bathroom, and said she wanted to freshen up, but that was ages ago.
She reclined in a Victorian-style, black enamelled bathtub, singing happily to herself and sipping occasionally from her glass. I pulled up a stool and perched with my guitar across my knee, the vodka bottle by my side.
“Have a listen, babe. See what you think.”
I started strumming the song I was working on, the lyrics of which had fallen into place today.
Vodka is cold and brandy is sweet
I don’t need drinks when you’re here with me
I’m drunk on living, I’m drunk on you
Hangovers are perfect when I’m here with you
Draped over the side of the bath, damp hair falling onto her face, she sprawled with her chin resting on folded arms as I sang. She looked painfully innocent, big brown eyes huge against her pink cheeks. I finished singing and she clapped, blowing kisses to me.
“I love it. Do you want to come in here with me now? There’s plenty of room.”
“Actually, Daisy, I wanna fuck you and I don’t think I can wait any longer. Come on out.” I plucked a giant towel from a pile beside the bath and wrapped it round her; it was the size of a small sheet and I completely encased her from head to toe. Swathed in white towelling, I scooped her in my arms and carried her to the bed. Heedless of her wet hair and damp body, I deposited her on the quilt, sweeping the multitude of scatter cushions to the floor. What was it with hotels and cushions? They littered every surface.
Laughing in delight, she wriggled out of the towel, and stretched up to wrap her arms around me. God, she smelled good. I leaned forward to kiss her stomach, run my tongue up to her breasts. Oh yes, she tasted as good as she smelled.
Daisy was the first woman I’d seriously considered as a long term prospect, someone to spend more than just a night, or a scant few days with. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of her. And now, easing slowly inside her, watching her face as she gave herself to me, I knew I’d found a keeper. Was there a more beautiful sight, than a woman as she came, knowing that you’d taken her there? I gloried in the feel of her muscles contracting around me, waited a moment and then carried on, driving her to another, even stronger orgasm. Eventually, I collapsed beside her, reaching for the vodka, to top up our glasses.
It was a fine evening. We called up room service for dinner, and then headed out to the Royal Albert Hall for the gig. I ordered a limo for the short journey, much to Daisy’s amusement. I’d already decided I’d give her the full rock’n’roll experience tonight. We had excellent seats, enjoyed the concert and, of course, went backstage afterward to see Brandon and the guys. We’d met a few times, he was delighted to see me, and we jammed a little at the after-show party. From there we went as a large and rowdy group for a late supper, then on to a club, finally collapsing into bed sometime after 3am. Yep, a good time was had by all.
Part 2 coming next month…