Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Spanking, Oral Sex, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A follow up to 'Rebecca's Intrigue.'
Fiona clattered into the garage, Slim thought, 'like a Spanish galleon under full sail.' She immediately strode to her car, a neat little Alfa, and stared in the window before opening the driver's door.
Slim watched bemused as his two apprentice mechanics scattered to the back of the workshop to find something to occupy themselves. 'No-one wanted to deal with this bitch, ' he grinned to himself.
"Mr Hochstetter!" Fiona growled. "I hope your staff haven't left any grease?"
"No, madam," he replied. "I serviced this myself."
He was lying, of course, but if she was to find anything amiss he wasn't going to let her take it out on his boys.
"Very good!" she told him, unsmiling. "You take credit cards?"
"Sure - Amex, Visa?"
"Amex," she snorted back, as if the thought of having anything as lowly as a Visa was insulting.
She followed Slim to the counter and presented her card - a Gold one.
"Declined!" he told her, concerned. It was a genuine shock. He knew the lady was high class - worked for a big company as a legal eagle.
"Bugger!" she swore with conviction. "Clearly there's been some sort of screw up. What's the bill?"
"Good grief, man, what did you do with it?"
"Standard service, madam. They're an expensive make of car. If you'd like to check the service sheet?"
Fiona sighed heavily. She opened her purse with a snap and plunged her hand in. "I don't usually carry that amount of cash. Try this one," she said, brandishing a Diner's Club.
"No good!" Slim told her. He was now worried. The lady looked to be hard up. On the other hand, she was a good customer with a good job. He'd no doubt she'd be good for the bill - he just didn't want the hassle.
"I'll have to go to the bank," she declared.
"No problem," Slim told her. "Take your car and drop the bill in later. I know I can trust you."
He managed a weak smile. In fact, he wasn't that comfortable with the idea, but didn't want to lose her business by quibbling over some temporary hiccup.
"That's very kind of you." Fiona briefly smiled before taking the offered keys. Slim watched her as she clattered to the Alfa and got in. She was a little less haughty, now, he mused, but still kept her dignity.
When Fiona pulled up her drive she was shaking - shaking with embarrassment - shaking with apprehension. She stormed inside and went straight to the phone. It was silent - the dial tone ominously absent.
She retrieved the mobile from her bag - it was a company one - and quickly called her ex husband. It went straight to his answer-phone.
"Listen, you arsehole, you can't do this to me. We have an agreement. Pay my credit cards and phone bill or I'll have you back in court." She slammed the phone down on the counter and threw herself into the arm chair. She thought about calling her lawyer, but decided against it. She'd had enough for the day and just wanted to rest.
It had been over a year since her husband had walked out on her - left her for a Russian girl he'd met on the Internet. Nine months of legal wrangling had left her with the house, and the mortgage, although he kept his half interest. In return, he was to pay her insurance, credit cards and phone.
Robert had started his own real estate business and Fiona knew he was strapped for cash. Almost at once, he began to renege on their agreement and she'd had to take him back to court a couple of times' more.
The lavish old villa was worth at least a million dollars, maybe more. If Fiona sold, she'd be over three hundred grand the richer. But, that meant giving Robert his 50% and that she wasn't prepared to do.
It wasn't that she was particularly attached to the house. It had always been Robert's choice. He'd commanded the alterations and renovations and made most of the decisions about it. It was because it was Robert's house she was determined he wasn't getting one cent out of it. She knew it wounded him, financially and spiritually - it was her stick with which to beat him.
She looked around the lounge at the empty walls then out the window to the garden, Robert's pride. His pictures and prints were gone and his flower beds overgrown. She'd thought about getting a gardener in, but had changed her mind. She preferred it the way it was, choked with weeds.
Fiona rose from the chair and went into the kitchen. If there was one passion left to her it was cooking.
She used to enjoy the dinner parties Robert organised. She took pride in the pastries and dishes she turned out. She often mused it was her meals Robert's guests came for rather than his dry, boring chit chat. Now, no guests came to sample her cuisine, but she cooked anyway.
It wasn't that she was totally without friends, she thought. She got on tolerably well with her work mates, but she was a tough act, even she realised. Few she could claim to have a close relationship with, however. She was far too opinionated - intolerant of idiots and those too slow on their feet.
About the only person who was a fair match of wits was Rebecca, a fellow board member at the company she worked for. Rebecca was at least as clever, but they didn't get along. Perhaps they were too near in style, she thought, and clung too tightly to their respective positions in debate. In any case, she could hardly call her 'friend.'
Some of the other board members were affable enough, but she found it hard to develop respect for those she could easily best in free debate. Sam, for instance, was a nice guy but he gave in too easily. The Chairman was a doddering old aristocrat and she could run rings around him.
At least Sam and the Chairman had stayed with the same wives they first married. A few of the others had no sooner reached their positions than they ditched their partners for younger women. That kind of behaviour Fiona despised most of all. To dump someone who'd supported you throughout your career and then reward her by spurning her devotion - unforgivable!
Rebecca had taken herself a younger lover and she thought it a hoot. Bradley was an engineer in the company - recently taken on - and Rebecca had wasted little time in picking him up. It had surprised them all, because, she'd betrayed scant interest in dating before.
She guessed it just goes to show that love can strike when you least expect it - to others, perhaps, but not to her.
Fiona was in her fifties - she was always deliberately vague about her exact age - and no Spring chicken. She figured for someone to be interested it would be for her bank balance rather than her looks. Now, even that seemed unlikely. She was, after all, broke, in most ways that counted.
'Asset rich and cash poor, ' to be precise. She was living on a gold mine, but her determination to make Robert's life as miserable and penniless as she could ensured she had little money to throw around herself. It was an irony that even she could appreciate.
Fiona liked to retire to bed early and get up with the dawn chorus. There was something about the morning - the stillness and quiet - where she could truly feel untroubled. No-one rang her at 6am and the only arguments were the sparrows arguing over stale bread outside.
She liked the frosts and the steam rising from the roof as the first rays of sun struck. She liked the drive down from the hills as the blanket of fog lifted from the city. She liked the empty roads and the hum of the Alfa's heater. Most of all, she liked the solitude.
Nights, on the other hand, made her feel lonely. Robert and her would always sit and chat, or rather, Robert would talk about his plans while she listened. Strangely, she missed that part of their relationship.
Later on, he'd spend long hours in his office and she'd no idea that he was chatting, or cybering, or whatever, with his woman from Russia. His betrayal of her had come completely out of the blue and she'd remember that as long as she lived.
"We'd never had that good a marriage," he'd declared. "Physical, I mean, in the bedroom."
Well, she'd never complained - never once thought the 'spark had gone' - never once refused him.
"I think it best if we went our separate ways, you know."
'Best for who?' Best for him, of course, because his Russian was already on the plane over. No, it wouldn't do for her to show up on his doorstep with a suitcase. He'd already rented them an apartment. Robert always had things well planned.
Fiona could never compete with her on a physical level, of course. She was not young and tight with long legs and dark eyes. She hadn't that promise of passionate nights and silk lingerie.
The Russian woman would be high maintenance, she reasoned. Why else would she travel all this way for a boring old man like Robert if it wasn't for his money? It didn't make any sense, otherwise. Robert was foolish - she'd empty him out then leave him for someone younger. It was plain to see and she waited with anticipation for that wonderful day.
Robert had some kind of fetish about things Russian ever since they'd met, she recalled. The walls of their home had been studded with old Russian warships - from the days of the Tsar. His office had been a shrine for Russian maritime memorabilia. Ships in bottles or assembled from resin kitsets used to grace the cabinets in the lounge. Now all that stuff had been hauled off to clutter his little love nest with his child bride.
"Russia," she spat. She didn't care if she never heard that country ever mentioned again.
The next day there was a board meeting. Fiona was burning when she arrived - Robert had blown her off once again and she decided she had to call her solicitor. In the meantime, she was broke and her bank had refused to extend her any more credit.
She thought about asking the Chairman to sign off an advance of her fee, but she couldn't bear the humiliation. Most of these guys were loaded, she knew, but there was no-one she could ask to help her out while maintaining her dignity.
There was Rebecca, and there was little doubt she would be amenable. She observed her out of her eye - smugly grinning to herself over her recent marriage to Bradley. Rebecca aggravated her with her contentment, but, her options weren't extensive at the moment.
"Rebecca, may I have a word?" she hailed her after the meeting. She spied a brief expression of annoyance flash over the other woman's face. It didn't surprise her - she'd pulled few punches with Rebecca over the years. "I won't keep you," she told her. "I was just wondering, well, I'm a little short of liquidity at the moment, and..."
"I see," Rebecca nodded. "Robert being awkward?" The question was without insinuation and she passed it off.
"Yes," she answered. "Another solicitor's letter, I'm afraid."
"Come to my office, Fiona. I'll be glad to help out."
Fiona followed her down the hall wondering at people like Rebecca. If their positions were reversed, she wasn't sure she'd be that generous.
"How much do you need?" Rebecca asked, logging on to her computer. "I can transfer funds straight into your account. Don't be shy?" she added, when she saw Fiona's hesitation.
"Um, let's see..."
"There's no need..."
"Pay me back when you're ready... 10,000?" Fiona looked at her with her jaw hanging open. "Ten grand, then, no arguments. I know I'll see it back."
"I'll pay interest." Fiona said, floundering.
"Whatever you like. Come over for dinner, Saturday. We won't accept a refusal. You've been out of circulation too long."
Fiona found herself nodding, awestruck. She didn't imagine Rebecca would be prepared to help her out that much. She didn't know what to say. "Bring a date?" Rebecca added.
"I, I don't have anybody..."
"There's a few bars around here." Rebecca smiled.
"I don't think so, Rebecca."
"Don't have to keep him," Rebecca called after her fleeing back. She was laughing and Fiona wanted to escape.
Fiona spent the afternoon paying the accounts Robert, by rights, should have taken care of. She got the phone put back on and the electricity, she discovered, that was due for disconnection the next day. Last on the list was the garage where she had her car serviced.
She was thinking about Saturday night and growing apprehensive. She would like to bring a date if, for no other reason, than to wipe the smile of Rebecca's face. She was no charity case and was damned if she was going to be treated as one.
But, who could she ask at such short notice? She wasn't that close to many men, and certainly no unattached ones. In any case, what man would want to accompany her anyway? He'd have to be hard up or expecting some reward. A paid escort, she thought, wasn't part of her style.
Slim was pleased to see her and smiled a lot. Maybe he was in some doubt about seeing his money? In any case, he guided her to the counter and ploughed into the drawer to extract the account.
"Sorted everything out?" he asked her. "With the bank, I mean?"
"Oh, yes, the bank. Yes, everything's fine now."
"Banks, eh?" he tutted. "Screwed me around over the years," he continued. "Worse than the ex."
"Quite," she agreed, uncomfortably. "I have it in cash."
"Yep, good idea!" he smiled. "Can't go wrong with good, honest banknotes."
"It wasn't the bank's fault, you know," she felt compelled to add. "My ex husband was supposed to pay the credit card. We'd agreed!"
"I so know what you mean," he replied. "I've had my battles with the ex over the years. Cost me a fortune in legal bills."
"I see. You're divorced?"
"Three years this Summer."
"If you don't mind me asking," Fiona said, "but did you leave her for another woman?"
"Huh!" Slim looked put out. Fiona reckoned he was about 55, with sandy hair flecked with silver. He was quite good looking in that man's man, grease stained way. "Oh, uh, no," he said, embarrassed. "She, ah, left me for someone else."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Fiona suddenly felt contrite. It was a personal question and she regretted it the moment it left her lips. She had a reputation of speaking first before thinking.
"Water under the bridge," he shrugged. "Don't matter anymore. He's welcome to her."
"Yes. My husband did the same thing to me - with someone he met on the internet."
"Ah," he clicked his tongue. "And he's still doing you over? Got a good lawyer?"
"Yes, and expensive."
"I know what you mean," he agreed. "First it's one thing, then another. Never stops demanding. What's that slob of a husband's doing, I don't know? I think I'm keeping both of them, y'know."
"It doesn't seem fair, does it? You can't even sue them for desertion these days. Once upon a time, if they left you for someone else, you could take them to the cleaners."
"Exactly! She came into the marriage with nothing and she leaves with half of everything. Something's wrong with the system."
"How long were you married?"
"Two bloody years - that's all!"
Slim appeared to be getting upset so Fiona decided to drop the subject. The transaction concluded, she turned to go.
"Hey!" he called after her. "D'yer fancy going out for a drink sometime?"
Fiona was stunned. Uncharacteristically, she was struck dumb. Slim looked abashed, and it looked to Fiona he was about to apologise. "Look, I'm..." he stammered.
"No, I'm sorry," Fiona told him. "I don't usually have men ask me out."
"No?" he raised his eyebrows. "Pretty older lady such as yourself? One, with a shrewd taste in cars, I might add."
"My Alfa Romeo?"
"Their best model, that," he explained. "A mighty machine!"
"Really? I just bought it because I was told it was a good investment. They hold their value well, I believe."
"That model, yes!"
"You asking me out because you admire my taste in cars?" She smiled at Slim to demonstrate she was teasing.
"No, not at all," he said. "I just thought we could both do with a night out. That's all. If you're offended..."
"Not at all," she hastened to say. "As a matter of fact I have a dinner date with friends on Saturday and I was asked to bring a date. Perhaps you could help me out of a jam?"
"Be glad to," he smiled. "Only too glad to help out a lady."
"I bet! I'll pick you up, shall I?"
"Actually, madam, do you mind if I pick you up? I guess I'm a little old fashioned about these things."
"Ok, then," she agreed, bemused. "You have my address? Shall we say about seven?"
"Seven, then, madam."
"I think you should call me Fiona, ah, Mr Hochstetter, or are you old fashioned about that too?"
"Not at all, Fiona," he laughed. "And my name's Slim."
"Slim? Very Western, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he grinned. "I belong to the Western riding club. They've always called me Slim."
"Riding! As in a stetson, stirrups and lasso?"
"And country music?"
"The whole package!"
"Oh, good grief, a cowboy!" she laughed. "Just don't pick me up on a mustang."
"Actually, Fiona, it is a Mustang - a '69 Ford Mustang."
"Oh, my goodness! Wait till Rebecca sees this! A cowboy with a mustang and country music blaring on the stereo. She'll go absolutely nuts!"
"I could wear denim and chaps - riding boots..." he started to say, a little peevishly. Slim felt he was being made a fool of.
"Just whatever," Fiona told him as she swept out.
Slim wondered afterwards what he'd let himself in for. He'd only meant a little drink in a bar downtown - he wasn't sure why - but the lady interested him. Now, it felt he was going on display - some points scoring session with one of her snooty friends. It wasn't what he intended and he shivered at the thought.
Fiona, on the other hand, was bouyant. She could now demonstrate to everyone she could find a date anytime and anywhere she wanted. Slim was just the ticket - about as far away from Robert as you could get - and he'd blow Rebecca and Bradley away, she was sure he would.
As Saturday neared she began to have misgivings, however. Was it fair putting Slim into this position? Rebecca was sharp and witty - Bradley well travelled and a good talker. Slim would likely be out of his element - slumped in a sofa, lost and forlorn, perhaps, while she and Rebecca sparred. They would think she was dumbing down, maybe, with Slim and his cowboy pretensions and country music.
Bradley could talk to him about cars, she supposed, but then she remembered Rebecca's husband didn't own one nor showed much interest. Sure, he was an engineer, but not that kind. She feared the evening would be a disaster, but, she'd come too far to back out.
She was ready well before seven and waited impatiently like a girl going to a high school dance. She dressed casually, as befitting an evening with friends, and hoped Slim had dressed the same. God, she hoped he hadn't hired a tuxedo or something equally stupid.
Dead on time she heard the rumble of his colossal American Ford roll up the quiet street. Christ, she hoped it wasn't some damned hot rod. He steered into her drive and she waited for him to ring the bell. She remembered enough about dating not to appear too anxious.
Opening the door, she found him dressed in a set of faded denims. He wore a red shirt opened at the collar and a silver pendant on a chain. Not quite what she wished for but nothing like what she feared. It would do.
"Is this all right?" he asked, indicating his attire.
"Fine!" she told him. "I'm glad you didn't go to too much trouble."
Slim seethed, because he had gone to a lot of trouble in choosing his wardrobe. Nevertheless, he swung the flowers and the bottle of wine from behind his back and was pleased to see her taken aback. He watched her scuttle away to find a vase - telling him what a lovely spray it was.
"Is the wine all right?" he asked.
"Let's see," she considered, reading the label. "Hmm, Sauvignan blanc? Yes, it's a nice drop, this. You know about wine?"
"Not really," he confessed. "I asked at the local wine shop and they recommended that one. The guy said it would be suitable for all occasions."
Fiona had to hand it to Slim. He wasn't one for pretentiousness. He was honest, and she liked that in a person - even if it was a rare quality these days.
"What do you usually drink, Slim?"
"Beer, mostly. Now and again I'll have a bourbon, but it plays havoc with me."
"Would you like a quick one before we go? I believe I have a Molson's in the fridge?"
Slim nodded and she fetched him the beer. She sat nervously on the sofa and offered him a chair opposite. He sat, taking in the surroundings.
"Fine house," he declared. "Must cost you a packet?"
"Yes," she agreed. "There's a big mortgage and you've no idea how much it takes to heat a house this size."
"Maybe you should get a smaller place?"
Fiona grimaced at the thought. She'd wish she had a dollar for every time someone had told her that.
"Where do you live? Do you have a nice house?" she asked, choosing to ignore his comment.
"Bought myself a farmhouse with thirty acres just out of town," he told her. "Plenty of room for the horses."
"You have horses? Why, of course you have," she replied. "You ride!"
"Four. Two bay mares, a quarter horse and a part Arab gelding. He's my favourite - I call him 'Bey.'
"'Bey', an Arab called 'Bey?' As in the 'Bey of Morocco?"
"'Bey' is a Turkish word," he told her. "And, no, I didn't name her. The guy I bought him from named him. I just thought it fitted so I kept it."
"Quite!" she replied. Fiona felt chastened -she'd just received a linguistic lesson from a mechanic and she wasn't pleased. "It's time we left, don't you think?" He nodded and rose.
The car was a left hand drive, red convertible with a cream top. Slim kept it gleaming and it was clearly his pride and joy. Fiona was less than thrilled, however, because it made a little too much noise.
Nevertheless, she tried to ignore her discomfort and the stares the vehicle attracted as they drove though town. Sitting on the right, she garnered rather more interest from other road users than she liked. The novelty of turning up to Rebecca and Bradley's in this American monster car had worn off by the time they arrived.
At least the couple's hillside home had a car deck above house level. They couldn't see them arrive and that suited her. Slim opened the door for her and they went downstairs to be greeted by Rebecca.
Rebecca grinned slyly at her in a manner she didn't feel she deserved. Slim was, after all, the mechanic who fixed her car, not some hot shot businessman. They all sat in the lounge in an effort to get acquainted. Slim was a little shy at first, despite Bradley's attempt to engage him in conversation. All Fiona's worst fears about the evening seemed to be coming to fruition.
"What do you do, Slim?" Bradley asked him.
"I own a garage. I'm a mechanic."
"Civil engineer," Bradley explained. "Much work on?"
"I pay the bills," he shrugged. "Keep two boys on."
"Fiona," Rebecca intervened. "I could use some help in the kitchen?"
Fiona knew what that meant. Rebecca was going to firmly grill her about Slim. She was at a lost what to tell her. She couldn't just say he was the guy who fixed her car - that would be too galling!
Fiona, however, neatly sidestepped the question by bare faced lying. To Rebecca's inevitable question she told her Slim was an old family friend who'd been kind to her and Robert over the years.
"Funny you've never mentioned him before?" Rebecca continued to probe.
"You and I have hardly socialised a lot in the past. Is it any surprise you don't know my friends?" Fiona's tone carried just enough steel to warn Rebecca off the subject.
"I suppose you're right," Rebecca conceded. "We must try and make up for it."
'Why?' was Fiona's thought, but she decided to leave it unvoiced. Rebecca had, after all, loaned her a considerable amount of money and it would be churlish to spurn her offer of friendship - even if it wasn't entirely welcome.
"Let's see what the boys are doing?" suggested Rebecca when she felt an awkward silence descending.
They needn't have worried. When they re-entered the lounge they found the 'boys' had retreated to the balcony with a couple of beers. Fiona was relieved she didn't have to salvage Slim nor fish for something to say to him.
Bradley and Slim kept each other company throughout the evening leaving Rebecca and Fiona to chat mostly about work related subjects. Rebecca was having a hard time finding any other common interests with this woman so gave in in the end.
By about midnight, both women had grown tired of each other's company and the men had cleaned out the beer from the fridge. By tacit agreement they decided to call it a night.
Fiona briefly prevailed on Slim to pass her the keys but he wasn't having any of it. No-one, he insisted, drove his precious Mustang but him.
I any case, he drove carefully back to Fiona's place and she was relaxed he didn't appear too drunk.
Slim insisted on escorting her to the door and, reluctantly, Fiona invited him inside for coffee.
It wasn't that she wanted to, she insisted after, it was just she wanted to make sure he was sober for the long drive out into the country. She wasn't going to be accused of sending the poor man home drunk to run off the road on some country lane.
While she prepared a brew, Slim walked to the big bay window and looked out at her forlorn garden. He found the switch to the outside lights and turned them on.
"Garden's a bit overgrown," he told her idly. "You should put some bark down - cut back all that ragwort and prairie weed."
"Should I?" she replied, coldly. Fiona was tired of people giving advice about her house.
"Uh, huh. Don't you have any prints or paintings for all these walls? It seems so bare in here."
"As a matter of fact, Robert took all the pictures and those he missed I threw out. The garden's the way it is because I don't give a fuck about it. The roof needs the guttering replaced and there's a leak in the conservatory. I believe two piles need replacing at the back and the whole house could do with a coat of paint. If you have any more suggestions I suggest you make a list and leave it on the phone table on your way out."
"Hey!" Slim flashed. "I didn't deserve that. What's your problem?"
"My 'problems' are none of your business," she retorted, emerging from the kitchen. "I also suggest you drink up and leave. I'm tired and going to bed."
"Suppose you explain what I've done to get you riled?" Slim said, taking the coffee.
"Slim?" she subsided a little. "I'm just tired of men telling me what to do."
"I didn't mean it that way. I was going to offer to help. Maybe do a bit of gardening for you? The guttering shouldn't be too much trouble..."
"Slim, why? I'm not asking for any help."
"I know. Bradley explained a little about what you're going through..."
"Oh, did he?" Fiona's anger began to rise again. "And what things did you discuss?"
"Um!" Slim shuffled nervously, sensing a volcano about to erupt.
"Did he tell you about the money?"
"As a matter of fact..."
"The arsehole! That was a confidential arrangement between myself and Rebecca. It's not anyone else's business! Nor, for that matter, is it Bradley's concern."
"Well, they're married, for Christ's sake! You think Rebecca shouldn't tell her own husband about the loan?"
"And when did you enter the piece? I merely asked you to accompany me to dinner - not discuss my affairs. How dare you insinuate yourself into my life."
"For God's sake, cool down! I want to be your friend - help out. Why jump on people who only want to show a little concern?"
"For why? What do you expect to get out of it? What have I got you want, huh?"
Fiona's eyes flashed angrily. Slim seethed with injustice and reeled in confusion. This woman was real complicated, that's for sure, and prickly as a thistle.
"What do I want? I told you, friendship."
"I don't need your 'friendship'."
"Fine! I'd better go."
Slim made his way to the door. For some inexplicable reason, Fiona followed close behind. As Slim opened the door, she put her hand on the small of his back and made to give him a push.
He spun around angrily and held her by the shoulders. Fiona threw up her arms to dislodge them, but Slim grabbed them, fearing she was about to strike out. This reminded him of the fights he'd had with his ex wife. In truth, he was working to an old script.
"Get your hands off me!" Fiona demanded, but Slim held on. He wasn't going to be slapped by any woman ever again. By extinct, he pulled Fiona in and pinned her arms behind her back. She struggled, but Slim was way stronger and held her tight.
His face was just inches from hers. For a split second, Fiona was stunned to silence. No-one had ever treated her like this - never dared to put their hands on her unbidden. When Slim saw her passive, he instinctively kissed her full on the mouth.
Fiona recovered from her shock at his assault on her. She began to struggle again and Slim held on tighter.
"Stop!" she commanded, but Slim noticed a hint of desperation creep into her tone of voice. Emboldened, he kissed her again - this time more firmly. "No!" Fiona said, breathlessly.
Slim realised at that point he'd stepped over the line. He either needed to retreat with an apology or go on with it, come what may. She was a lawyer, he knew, and his rational sense told him this wasn't going to end here. Likely, she'd file a complaint with the police.
She was a good looking woman. Her full figure was displayed to advantage by her tailored clothes. A little V neck displayed a hint of an ample cleavage and her dyed blond hair had begun to unravel from its clasp.
"You need taming, woman!" Slim told her. It was a corny line and he knew it - the stuff of a host of erotic novels.
"Slim, let me go!" This time, her voice had recovered some of its strength, as if Fiona could sense some indecision and was taking advantage of it.
"I know I'm in the shit for this," he told her. "But you got me all fired up. Been a while since I held a beautiful woman like this."
"Now, you can let me go and take your hormones some place else."
Fiona's haughtiness was hitting a raw spot with Slim and he felt himself losing control. He believed in women's equality, sure, but that didn't mean he was going to be treated like a child by this overbearing bitch.
"That's one hell of a chip on your shoulder," he told her. "What's wrong with a man showing a bit of interest?"
"Interest? Is this what you call 'interest'? Forcing yourself on me? Assault? What else did you have in mind, rape?"
"Not rape, Fiona. But maybe all you need is a little coaxing?" With that, Slim began to walk her back into the room. "Maybe just a little making out?" His voice had an even tone, insistent rather than pleading. She wasn't fighting him anymore and he thought the idea wasn't entirely unwelcome.
"Slim, I, maybe sent some mixed messages..." she started to tell him. Slim felt her weaken a little more and began to scope the place for her bedroom.
"I think you really like me a little. I think you'd like to spend the night with me but you're scared."
"You do? You think?"
In truth, Fiona's head spun with conflicting emotions. Her outrage at being treated this way fought with some gut arousal at the very sexiness of the situation. He was, after all, very good looking, strong and earthy, but also she felt shame at her feelings - a kind of internal betrayal.
Confusion stilled her resistance until she found herself being pushed through the door into her bedroom. He let her go to shut the door and that spurred her to action. She grabbed a pillow and threw it as hard as she could at him.
But it was. after all, just a pillow. It hit him square in the face and he just laughed. Before she could find something heavier, he grabbed her once more, this time, around the waist. With his free hand, he whacked her firmly on the rump.
Fiona was gobsmacked! His hand had stung and cannoned her face down across the bed.
"You..." was all she could exclaim before the next blow struck her on the same place. "Ow!"
"That's for giving me a hard time when I was just trying to be friendly. Now, I think we need to talk - I would like to talk..."
"What about?" she asked, rubbing her backside.
"About you and me. I never meant for this to happen. I'm kind of sorry I treated you roughly. It's just, well, I haven't felt quite like this in a long time."
"Like what?" Fiona asked him, now more than a little scared of him. This situation was well out of her experience and she wasn't sure how to deal with it.
"You just get me fired up in all sorts of ways. I don't usually lose control like this. I've never met a woman such as you before."
"I can't say I've met many men such as you either. Robert would never dare push me around like that. And, as for hitting me on, on..."
"On my backside," she corrected. "He wouldn't have dared..."
"Sounds like you need to be in control? Don't you ever just want to let go sometimes? Like, just hop aboard and go for a ride?"
"No! I'm happy being as I am. I do fine 'being in control' and I like to know where my 'rides' are going. If what you mean is that I have to submit to every man who barges their way in here, then I'd rather not take the risk."
"Ah, so you don't like risks?"
"I never said..."
"Maybe, by taking a risk or two, you might discover some joy..."
"Oh, please, don't try the pop psychology on me. You're just a man with a penis who wants to prove he has what it takes..."
"Not true," Slim said, lying on his back next to her. "You haven't taken the time to get to know me."
"Of course not. Why should I? You've proved yourself a brute now you can get out of my bedroom."
"Is that what you really want?"
"Of course 'that's what I really want'. I'm not running any hidden agendas. You haven't broken through to some latent, suppressed desires. You've failed..."
"Then why are you breathing so?" he grinned at her.
"Because I've been fighting with you, you moron. I'm not used to doing twenty rounds with an ape."
Fiona looked up as Slim hovered over her, laughing. It incensed her and she lashed at his face with her hand, catching him across the cheek. Slim reacted, caught her hand and pinned it to the bed. He now half lay on her, his face inches from hers. 'In for a penny, ' he thought, before crossing the distance and kissing her on the mouth before she could avert her face.
Slim mashed with her for a full ten seconds. He noted she wasn't resisting. Her free hand flew to the side of his face, but there was no pressure, she wasn't pushing him away.
"Please stop!" she moaned as his face left hers. "I'm not ready for this. I don't want this. I'm not the woman you think I am."
"I think you're hot!" he grinned.
"I'm not, Slim. Men don't want me in that way. Look for someone who'll massage your ego - someone younger, someone pretty! You're barking up the wrong tree."
"I know what tree I'm barking up at. The docile ones don't work for me."
"I'm not a horse to be trained..."
"I dunno," he laughed. "Maybe with a touch of the whip?"
"That's not funny! You hit me again and I'll jam my knee where it hurts!"
"It seemed to calm you down. Maybe you like a little spanking?"
"And maybe I don't. I mean it, Slim!"
"Sure you do!" With that, he quickly pulled her onto her side and delivered another smack.
"Ow, Jesus Christ! Don't ever..."
Slim noticed her breathing quicken. There was no knee to his groin either.
"Ow! No more! Stop it!"
"Perhaps you'd like it on your bare arse?"
"Slim, don't! You've had your fun, now I think you should go."
"You're not enjoying yourself? What about a little more kissing? Give me another kiss and I'll go. I promise!"
"A quick one, then. Just a kiss. No pushing around with your tongue and no groping, understand?"
Slim bent down once more and kissed her. He didn't pull away in a hurry and he did use his tongue. Also, he was never in the Scouts.
When he rose, Fiona was breathing heavily and her face was flushed. Slim noticed a softening in her eyes - sure sign, he reckoned, she really wanted him to stay.
"Go, now!" she told him, but her voice carried no conviction. He didn't move and she didn't insist.
Instead, he kissed her again, firmly and passionately. Her body relaxed beneath him and an arm came up to encircle his head. He felt he had won the battle.
"Slim?" she said, in almost a whisper. "Please ... you must understand. It's been a long time since..."
"Yeah, I know," he replied, stroking her face.
"Hey! Let's kick Robert out the bed for a while, huh?"
"I know I do go on about him..."
"Just a bit."
"It's just. I guess I'm terrified of the same thing happening again. That's what it's always been like ... the same pattern."
"So you change the script? Let yourself go? Take that ride?"
"It's not that simple. It's never that easy to..."
"You like me?" he asked, gently running his hand over her tummy.
"I suppose. You're not what I thought."
"See? You're allowing yourself a happy surprise."
"Happy? You push me around, hit me on the bottom, shove me into my bedroom and molest me on my own bed? This is what you call 'a happy surprise'?" Her voice, though, carried no hint of genuine reproach. Instead, there was excitement and anticipation. Slim felt himself on firm ground and began kissing, and 'molesting' her again.
"Shall we get comfortable?" he suggested. "Perhaps you want to take off that dress. I could tear it off, but..."
"No! Don't do that. It's designer!"
She sat up and presented her back to him so he could undo the clasp. Once released, she stood and carefully shuffled the dress down and hung it up in the closet. Slim watched her move around in just a matching blue bra and pants set.
Her breasts were heavy and the flesh rippled around her cleavage. Her hips corresponded, but she was in good shape for a woman in her mid fifties. Slim kicked himself off the bed and quickly took off his shirt and trousers. He waited while Fiona turned back the covers, then slipped in beside her.
"You need to be out by early morning," she instructed. "I get up about 6 every morning. You can make yourself breakfast, but I want to lock up no later than 7."
"6? You serious?" he laughed. "It's Sunday!"
"I ... I go for a walk every Sunday morning!"
"So? You won't let me lie in a little?"
"I ... I don't know. I've never had..."
"Well, it's about time you did!"
With that, he rolled over, half on top, and resumed kissing. His hand moved up and over her bra, gently kneading the soft flesh. A hard nipple pressed into his palm through the silk fabric.
Carefully, he pushed his fingers underneath and slid the bra cup half off her left breast. Fiona emitted a gasp at his touch.
"You won't be rough?" she whispered.
"Turn off the bedside light?"
"I'm a middle aged woman."
"I'm not that exciting to look at."
"I'm embarrassed! You want me to take off my underwear?"
"You won't like what you see."
"I've liked what I've seen up till now. Neither of us are teenagers anymore, Fiona."
"You're in good shape. Men seem to age a bit later than..."
"Bollocks! I want you naked and I want to be naked beside you."
"Oh, Hell! If you insist!" she sighed. With that, she sat off and undid her bra. Slim watched as her two breasts fell free from their confinement, before seizing one with his mouth. Fiona trembled as she wrestled with her panties. Slim kindly assisted, running his hand back between her legs. "God, I've never felt this ... this way in a long time."
"Do we need protection?"
"Protection? Only from you." She grinned, teasing. "No, I can't have children ... immature ovaries."
"Who wants kids at 55 anyhow?"
"Masochists! Anyway, I guess you can do your thing as often as you like. You're off the hook, as it were."
"That an invitation?"
"Well, if it isn't I've just taken my clothes off for nothing."
"You've changed your tune," he laughed.
"Well, lets see what you've got to offer, shall we? Or do you make promises you can't keep?"
"Damn!" he laughed. "You've sure got a mouth on you."
With that, Slim rolled over and continued where he left off. He soon found she had particularly sensitive nipples for she gasped and moaned and ground her bush against his leg.
"What are you doing?" she moaned.
"Um, don't you know?"
"You want sex. I'm giving it to you. Get on with it!"
"What's the hurry? You need to be somewhere?"
"Enough fooling around! You want instructions? Get on top and do what you have to do."
"Hey! Easy with the orders, lady!"
Slim began to kiss down her tummy, getting lower, while Fiona squirmed with arousal. She scrabbled for his penis, finding it hard and rather bigger than she thought. She then pulled on him, trying to drag him over.
"Jesus, what have you got there?" She sat up and pulled the covers down. Meanwhile, Slim's tongue found her thatch and he began to probe. "What ... Oh," she breathed, then flopped back on her back. Slim pushed her legs a little farther apart before diving in with his mouth and tongue.
Fiona fell silent, except for her ragged breathing. She heaved her torso at him and Slim grabbed her around the arse. He reached up with his fingers and squeezed a nipple. Sensing her orgasm was nearing, Slim then pushed a finger into her and flicked her faster and faster with his tongue.
Soon she was wailing and thrashing out her crisis. As she calmed down, Slim rolled on top and directed his cock at her gaping pussy. Slowly, he pushed it all the way, eliciting more moaning from Fiona.
"You're big, uh..."
"Uncomfortable?" he asked.
"A little, uh, Robert wasn't, uh ... so full. Go easy?"
"Of course," he smiled, before passionately kissing her on the mouth. "Enjoying yourself?"
"It's all right. You going to finish? Uh, you can do it in me, you know."
"I know. You're going to get a few years worth. You ready?"
"Yes. You can do it now. It's okay."
Slim drew back and lunged. Fiona's arms flew over his back and held him tight.
"Of course I'm sure! Go!"
"Oh! Move, damn you!"
"You want me to fuck you?" Slim grinned into her face, teasing.
"If you want to put it that way? Come on!"
"Well, I think you need to ask me nicely?" Slim lunged again, but only once.
"Uh! God, you're frustrating!"
"Say, 'please Slim, I want you to fuck me and make me come.' Say it?"
"Slim, uh! You're getting what you want..."
"What do you want, though?"
"Arrghhh! Men! I want you to finish what you've started."
"Hmm," he thought. He withdrew and sat up. "Over!" he commanded.
"Over on your hands and knees."
"Oh, for God's sake," she complained, but, she did as he ordered. Slim moved in behind her ample, white backside and probed for her entrance. Grabbing the cheeks of her arse, he slammed into her, again and again.
He reached around and rubbed her clit as he thrust. Fiona moaned and wailed - pushed back with equal fervour. Slim then held himself deep inside while he brought her off with his jerking fingers.
"On your back!"
Fiona rolled over slowly, languid with coming. She held her legs open ready for the next assault.
Slim watched for a few seconds as she lay passive, heaving with passion and glistening with sweat. Her big breasts rolled on her chest, the nipples stiff and pink. Between her legs, her brown thatch was moist with lubrication, her pussy gaping.
Growling, he fell on her and recommenced the action. This time, he was for himself, although she rolled against him passionately as if getting a second breath.
"Fuck me, Slim," she gasped. "Do it in me?"
Slim complied, and emptied years of sexual frustration into her. Fiona wailed out another come as she felt the hot liquid shoot up her.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms, plucking at the hairs on his chest and snuggling. After about half an hour she was ready to go again, but Slim couldn't oblige. Instead, he brought her off with his fingers again, while she howled her orgasm into his chest.
When the pale dawn lightened the curtains, Fiona woke with a start and rose. She thought about going for her morning walk but changed her mind - the first time in seven years. Instead, she showered and dressed before going into the kitchen.
Slim found her there a little later, whistling to herself and preparing a large breakfast for them both.