Always Leave Them Wanting More Page 3

  “No, there isn’t time.”

  “But what about-”

  “THERE ISN’T TIME!” She yelled, almost in tears. Which was how Ritchie met her parents so early on in their relationship, naked apart from a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses.

  Mrs Fraser hadn’t known her youngest child was courting, though when she thought about it, there had been a suspiciously lengthy dissection of a gig this Ritchie person had performed at which she’d had to listen to. She’d only called to check that Siobhan was doing her washing. Still, the young man in the long leather coat seemed very nice. He didn’t get out of the car which was a little peculiar, but he did shake her hands through the open window. And Bob’s, who dashed off to a cricket match as soon as he was happy that his daughter wasn’t wasting away or overly pierced. It was all over in under an hour and later that night, Ritchie had a great opener for his Mc-ing gig.

  “Mum thought you were very sweet.” Siobhan said later, on the phone. He’d already sent her a rough draft of the story as he intended to tell it, and she’d called to say all was fine, but he hadn’t mentioned how much he’d looked like a badly-equipped member of the Gestapo.

  “Are you sure? And she didn’t see anything?”

  “Not that I know of. She could be sitting on that information for when I least expect it. I’ll keep you posted.”

  It was 7.30, he wouldn’t be needed til 8pm.

  “Who’s on tonight?”

  “Viv opening, two new spots I can’t remember the names of - nice kids - and Chip headlining.”

  “I forgot you’d managed to convince him to do it. Are you nervous?”

  “Nah, he’s a nice bloke, just had a case of right time right place all those years ago. He agrees to take peanuts for these gigs, likes surprising people.” He yawned. “Still, I wish you were on the bill.”

  “So we could have a quickie before you go on? Calm your nerves?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  She pouted even though he couldn’t see her and moved to a quieter bit of the house.

  “Wouldn’t you like to have me there so I can relieve all your... stresses?” she murmured. “I’m very good at that.”

  “Bonnie...”

  “In fact, it would be my pleasure to make sure you’re not all worked up when you go out on stage. Wouldn’t want you exploding from all that pent up... emotion, would we? In fact just the thought of it makes me...” She let the echo of her moan linger before hanging up. Back in her bedroom she lay on the quilt with her ankles resting against the wall, unbuttoned her dress and taking a snap in the half-light of her breasts peeking through it, sending it on to him with a good luck note.

  “You’re making it worse!” He replied.

  Against her better judgement, Siobhan found herself thinking about cars far more often than she would do of an average week. She got a lift home from uni with Simon and nearly drove him up the wall with questions like

  “How far do the seats go back?” and “Have you ever had a little sleep in here?” and finally “Do air fresheners inhibit erections?”

  “What?”

  “I’m asking for a friend.”

  When she turned to wave at him from her front door, he was inspecting the passenger area with suspicion.

  Ritchie’s car was tiny, she couldn’t imagine anyone climaxing satisfactorily inside it, even with the seats pushed all the way down. And having sex in a taxi was out of the question - the cabbie was sure to notice. Renting a car just to fuck in it seemed to be an extravagance, but the idea had her interested and she spent spare minutes googling car rentals and working on the logistics. What she eventually hit upon, she believed was genius.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Present.”

  “It’s not a present if I have to drive us.”

  “Left, then... Second right” She tilted her phone to read the directions more clearly. “No, straight on to the roundabout.”

  “Is... is this Blue Fountain Park? Why are we on an industrial estate? Should I be worrying?”

  “No, we’re nearly there, next right!”

  As he drove up, a fluorescent pink sign above the gates was briefly illuminated.

  ‘The Palms Drive-in Movie Theater’

  “What’s this?”

  “Look at what’s playing.” Siobhan pointed towards the screen. “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.”

  “How did you find out about this?”

  “I google. I google a lot. And I’m a good listener.” She passed the tickets to the assistant, who directed them to a spot.

  “Just like the Flintstones.” They both said with glee as the speakers were presented to them and placed neatly inside the could so they could hear every single moment of tomato-y goodness.

  “Popcorn, sir? Cold beverage?”

  “No thank you,” Siobhan cut in before Ritchie could launch into his popcorn manifesto and how he insisted on equal parts salt and sweet in one-and-one-and-one-and-one formation. “We won’t be needing them.”

  “Why not? Are you hiding secret sweets, are you packing fudge?” He laughed so hard she joined him in sympathy more than anything else, and when they’d finished spluttering he tried again. “So I don’t get popcorn?”

  “You don’t need popcorn, darling.”

  The lights in the park dimmed signalling trailers, and she undid her seatbelt.

  “I wish we were in a proper 1950’s car, without seatbelts. We could make out like the adults-posing-awkwardly-as-kids from Grease and have ourselves a pregnancy scare.”

  “That’s the dream. Why don’t we get in the back? It’ll make watching the film a bit tricky, I suppose.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” She replied, crawling in between the front seats and praying she wouldn’t get wedged between them. He gave her a helpful push on the bum. “It’s a film about Killer Tomatoes, it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  Ritchie took the more refined route and stepped out of the driving seat and into the back like a grown up. The big screen was lit with an advert for Orange Wednesdays.

  “Seen this one.” He whispered as they lay down along the narrow back seat, individually thanking God for making them small enough to fit in confined spaces with a degree of comfort.

  It was cold outside which made the air in the car and Ritchie’s body and in particular his mouth feel so much hotter than they usually did. He kissed her as though his life depended on it, all the while with his hands under her skirt, feeling, not trying to remove anything. She could hear the production company fanfares in her ears as he jammed his elbow against the back of the seat so he could raise himself and see her properly.

  “Do you always look this beautiful?”

  “I had my colours done at Boots. Slow day.”

  “Nice. I especially like this.” He leant down and kissed her again, his tongue parting her lips unexpectedly even though she’d been kissed before, and was aware of how it worked. She held his face in her fingertips, the feel of the stubble under them making her almost tearful with want.

  “Is this flashy enough for you?” She whispered, feeling his hand between her thighs.

  “Hmm?” He was preoccupied, particularly with a hole he’d discovered in her tights. “Can I rip these?”

  “Anything you want.” The sound was satisfying, as he pulled them away from her body and took her knickers down with them until they were trapped around her knees and he discovered he couldn’t move any farther back. He tried straightening up and only succeeded in hitting his head on the roof, letting out a frustrated growl.

  “Poor honey bunny, are you ok?”

  “Yes. Wounded pride more than anything.”

  “Just open the door.” She suggested, helpfully.

  “Are you sure? I think we’
ll get kicked out if they notice.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  With the door open and Siobhan now sat up a little against the opposite one, Ritchie could bury his head between her legs, and familiarise himself with the beauty mark he’d admired before. Even with the flashes of light from the screen, she could only sort of see his body in front of her, and concentrated on the feel of his stubble against these other parts of her. Of his fingers pinching her swollen, damp flesh and his tongue working in tandem. It was hard not to make noise, she only held his head steady against her, against and into her cunt, only partly worrying that she was cutting off his air supply. When she came she took one of her hands away from his ears to clamp it over her own mouth so she could bite her palm and not reveal their activities but he felt the undulation of her stomach before him and he definitely felt the pulsing of her cunt under his fingers and his face.

  Had she been in charge of her own orgasms that evening this would have been her cue to lick her fingers and turn out the light. But she needed more, she needed him desperately. Slightly dishevelled, she watched him clamber to his knees with difficulty and wipe his face.

  “That was,” he began, but she shook her head and carefully got to her knees to unfasten his belt. “I wore a shirt dress for a reason and it was a very good reason and if you don’t fuck me now I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  In a bed this would obviously have been the cue for an almighty shag fest, however when they took into consideration that both of them were now disabled from the knees down by their respective outfit choices, the upshot was that when Ritchie tried to join her along the length of the seat, he found himself sliding awkwardly to the side and getting jammed in the foot well for thirty seconds while she laughed hysterically, mainly because it was delaying her fuck. She had to grab him under the arms and hoist him out, which wasn’t easy with her knees clamped together, but they managed eventually.

  “Right, these are off for a start.” He closed the door and sat to shimmy the pants and trousers off completely. “Come here.”

  “One minute.” Siobhan wound down the window and peeled off her now completely sodden and see through knickers, which could be removed without bothering the tights further, leaving it looking as though she was wearing stockings that had been ravaged by wolves.

  “That doesn’t look comfortable at all.” She said, crouched gingerly between his legs.

  “Neither does that, but you’re right.” He reached into the foot well and retrieved his trousers, rolling them up and stuffing them behind his head. “Much better.”

  As the west coast of America was decimated by rampaging plant life, Siobhan sank her body onto his, gasping even though it wasn’t the first time, and unbuttoning her dress so she he could see her fully as she began working her body with him. She gripped the edge of the window and closed her eyes smiling as she felt the familiar tug of his mouth around her nipple. She opened her eyes fleetingly and caught the glance of the girl in the next car, who winked and then disappeared into the lap of the shadowy figure next to her.

  She didn’t tell Ritchie, but pulled her body up a little higher, hoping that the people in the other car could see her. She could see the girl’s blonde ponytail bobbing about in the darkness, but whether she was sucking cock or licking pussy was anyone’s guess. As her eyes grew accustomed to the poor light, she saw that the girl was naked from at least the waist up - her shoulders were visible every so often, fleshy and pretty even from so far away. Siobhan found herself very drawn to the scene, desperate to know who she was with. Her answer came when the blonde raised her head a final time and turned her head to spit a mouthful of what was presumably come onto the grass. She noticed Siobhan again, and stuck her tongue out.

  “Can’t have fancied him much.” She muttered, which piqued Ritchie’s attention. Sensing her attention wandering even though he couldn’t see, Ritchie pinched her nipple and called out.

  “Mind on the job, lady!”

  “Job? This is a job?”

  “You know what I meant. Besides, I like seeing your face. What’s so interesting out there?”

  “Nothing now. Just other couples.”

  “Other couples doing dirty things in cars?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Can they see us?”

  “Well... They can see me. I don’t know if you’re visible in that position.”

  He moved position to see her better and the shift made his cock hit some unexpectedly sweet spots, causing her to yelp.

  “Oh, you like that?”

  “Ahhhhhh. Yes and now I don’t want to move because I’m sort of trapped on a little mountain of ecstasy and I feel like if we make any kind of movement, my clit might fall off.”

  “Well, how about this,” he replied, moving forward just a fraction.

  “Ohhhh that’s it.” she reached out to steady herself against his chest, the other hand clinging tightly to the handle above the door.

  All thoughts of the couple next door forgotten, Ritchie kissed her décolletage and held onto her hips as she bucked against him a handful of times, threw back her head as she came and then toppled forwards with her chin on his shoulder, which she kissed. He wondered for a selfish moment if she’d be too tired to complete him too, and cursed himself for being a cock end when she started bucking again, manipulating her inner muscles and kissing his neck, ear and finally his mouth as he came inside her and a truckload of extras got smashed into pasta sauce.

  There wasn’t much time to bask in the love light as Siobhan noticed an usher doing checks to make sure nothing funny was going on. But when he arrived at their vehicle, he noticed nothing unusual about their situation, apart from the fact they were still sat on the back seat. He didn’t see Siobhan’s unkempt hair, or that Ritchie wasn’t wearing trousers, or even notice the creamy trail snaking down the car’s bodywork as he walked away.

  Free Fringe Three-way

  Part III

  They had their first argument of the Fringe directly after their first shag on Scottish soil.

  “I said tits, I distinctly remember it. ‘Come on my tits’.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. In the heat of the moment I forgot.”

  “You’re not the one who’s going back to her seat with an unreachable spattering of semen across her lower back.” She hissed, hitting the release mechanism and stepping aside to let the next cross-legged patron enter the toilet.

  “There wasn’t time!” he continued as they negotiated their way back to the seats. “There wasn’t time to pull out, turn you around, ask you to pull your top down - there just wasn’t!”

  Two elderly ladies in the seats opposite looked mildly concerned at this.

  Ritchie ignored them, whispering. “I did my best in the circumstances. And you came, didn’t you?”

  “Hmmm, yes I did. Ok then, you’re forgiven. Just remind me never to agree to that again. We’ll do it in the flat next time.” Under the table Siobhan reached for his hand, silently calling for a truce, and he took it, squeezing the fingers in agreement.

  “Did we miss anything?” she asked as he fiddled with his phone.

  “Couple of texts from Daniel.”

  “He’s keen. Everything ok?”

  “He’s got the keys to the flat and he wants to know if there’s anything you fancy for dinner.”

  “Nando’s? I thought you were taking me out to dinner. It’s our five and a bit month-i-versary, remember?”

  “Nice try. It’s not that easy to con a free meal out of me, young lady.”

  “What are you texting him?”

  “‘Chicken’”.

  “Nando’s it is then.”

  From the borders to Waverley was another couple of hours, then the station to the flat was a ten minute cab ride and after that six flights o
f stairs, though Ritchie did carry the heaviest bags.

  “Age before beauty.” Siobhan pointed out, holding the door open for him.

  “Say that one more time and you will find yourself denied access to my genitals.”

  “Like I believe that.”

  “Don’t push him - I’ve seen him do it before. It wasn’t pretty.”

  She looked up to find Daniel taking the case from her hands and into the bedroom.

  Ritchie’s erstwhile comedy partner, Daniel Armitage was thirty years old and, according to his programme blurb - the secret love-child of Hulk Hogan and Alan Sugar - only skinny.

  Since his move to Belfast a couple of years ago, their gigs had become irregular and sought-after - always sold out, night after night. This was the first year they would be doing any gigs at the Fringe, coming in the middle of a national tour. The tour would coincide with the first time Siobhan had been apart from Ritchie for more than a week since they’d gone official in April.

  “Don’t go fucking any groupies. Not even the ugly ones.”

  “Not this again.”

  “I worry!”

  “Well don’t! Nothing is going to happen. And if it does, it’ll only be a drunken, meaningless shag with Daniel. And that’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

  “I suppose not. Unless you get really attached to his penis.”

  “Not going to happen. You have nothing to worry about, honest. Scout’s honour.”

  Daniel knew about her, but they hadn’t met. Returning from the bedroom, he held out his hand to her.

  “You must be Bonnie.”

  She took his hand, frowning. It was a pet name Ritchie had given her a month or so in.

  “She doesn’t like it when strangers call her that, Daniel.” he called from behind.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that, then?” Daniel replied over her head, then turned his face down to her and said “Sorry, he never mentioned it was a nickname, Siobhan.”

  “Oh, that’s alright. He never mentioned you were eight feet tall and staggeringly handsome, either.”