Narrative 04: Itsilano

Author's note: This is the 4

th

instalment in the 'Narrative' series. Each piece is based on a real incident (although names have been changed), and each is limited to 5,000 words or less. Full disclosure: this is actually based on two separate events that took place a few weeks apart. They've been woven together for the sake of a better story. (And thanks to Jane G. for her sharp-eyed review).

*****

Margot and I had been living together for two years now. Finding Tofino too limiting, we'd reluctantly made the move to Vancouver about a year ago. She'd set up her own small catering company, and I'd left the survey business to resume work as a freelance photographer. To put it mildly, we were now living something of a hand-to-mouth existence.

We'd learned a lot about each other in the past twelve months.

I wasn't the golden boy that she'd first believed me to be. I still strayed occasionally, and didn't always come home at night.

She, like many people in the restaurant business, was drawn to the bottle. And then there were her former lovers (men

and

women) wandering around the city, still smitten, in various states of disrepair.

Evidently, we were having issues.

_________________________

We'd lucked out, finding a flat in the old Vancouver neighbourhood of Kitsilano. Taking up most of the second floor in a rambling pre-war house, we were spoiled by high-ceilinged rooms, stained glass windows, and a working fireplace. We may have been short on cash, but we were at least comfortable.

A young couple lived above us in a small attic apartment. Cameron was an apprentice architect working at a local firm, and Paige was a struggling writer moonlighting as a waitress. They were both in their mid-twenties, both very attractive, and they both liked to party. A lot.

Margot took to them immediately. I suspected she had a thing for Paige, though she'd never admitted it. I, on the other hand, quickly grew tired of hearing old Fleetwood Mac pounding down through the ceiling on Saturday nights. They

really

weren't my favourite neighbours.

_________________________

It was early May, and Margot and I were having another one of our rough patches. She'd moved back home to her mother's place in Victoria to cool-off, and I was batching it - enjoying the lack of stress in my life.

Taking advantage of my freedom, I'd opted to work from home that Friday. Around 2 p.m., the music from upstairs kicked in once again. I sighed. This was really getting irritating. Heading upstairs, I knocked on the door of the apartment. I heard Paige call out "Just a sec!" and the music cut off. A few seconds later, the door flew open.

Paige was standing topless, with an oddly expectant look on her face. It vanished the instant she saw me. Her hands shot up to cover her chest. I stood there speechless: she had the most exquisite breasts I'd ever seen.

"Oh..." Paige stammered. "I thought..."

"...I was Margot?" I finished.

She glanced down at her covered breasts, and then back at me. "Margot... right... well... is she okay?"

"She's gone home to her mum's for awhile," I said.

"Ah... I didn't know. We... well, she sometimes comes here on Friday afternoons. We have a smart cocktail or two."

Or three,

I thought sourly.

And probably more than just cocktails...

"Just a minute," she said. Turning away, she grabbed a sweater out of the closet and hastily pulled it on. I caught another glimpse of her stunning breasts, this time from the side.

Turning back to me now fully clothed, Paige asked, "So when's she coming back?"

"Absolutely no idea," I responded. "Maybe when she's sick of her mum again? Probably in a few days..."

"Huh," she replied. "So she left you to fend for yourself."

"More like

find

myself," I said abruptly. "My choice, not hers. I needed some space."

"Right..." she replied. Living upstairs, I knew they could hear us when things got heated. That happened all too often these days.

"Right..." I echoed back. "So - music down a bit? Would that be OK?"

'Absolutely," Paige said quickly. "Cameron's away, so yes. Real low.

Promise

."

"Perfect," I said. "Thanks." I turned and walked away. As I reached the top of the stairs, I sensed Paige hesitate before she softly closed the door.

_________________________

It was later that evening, and I was enjoying my time alone. Logs crackling in the fireplace, Nick Drake's

Pink Moon

playing on the stereo, a freshly popped bottle of white wine, and an omelette simmering on the stove.

Perfect.

Until there was a knock at the door.

Fuck,

I thought. I pulled the door open, expecting to find Margot standing there. It was Paige.

She had a fresh bottle of Oban in one hand, and a brown manila envelope in the other. She looked like she worked for Dial-a-Bottle.

"Uh... hi," I murmured, noncommittally.

"Hi!" she responded chirpily. "You up for company?"

I studied her. She seemed almost anxious about something. I almost said, "Not tonight," and then thought again.

Might as well,

I sighed to myself.

Besides, I'm out of single malt.

"You want some omelette?" I asked, and opened the door wider.

__________________________

After dinner, we sat in the living room sipping Oban, listening to Jeff Buckley's

Grace,

watching the fire. I was pleasantly surprised: Paige had turned out to be quite charming.

She talked about her life - her relationship with Cameron (a bit tense, like Margot and me), her work as a waitress (boring but stressful at the same time), and her love of writing. We ended up focusing on the writing.

She'd chosen a difficult path. The chances of getting published were always slim at best, especially for unknown authors. It was the early 00's, and online options were still pretty rare as well.

We talked about her interests (fiction), and her favourite writers (high-toned authors like Faulkner, Lawrence, O'Connor). I asked if she'd ever managed to get anything published.

"Only on the 'net, but not for cash," she replied quietly.

"On-line?" I asked. I knew there were some up-and-coming writer's sites, but I'd never actually visited them.

Paige twisted the brown manila envelope nervously in her hands. "Well... yes," she said. "Umm, they're called

adult

sites."

I looked at her, surprised. "You mean porn sites," I corrected.

"Not

porn,

" she snapped back. I was obviously using the wrong word.

"Erotic fiction,"

she said.

"Erotic," I echoed. "On the

internet

?"

"Mmmm. There's some great sites where you can submit pieces for people to read. They tell you what they think..."

"And you

do

that?" I asked. I was flummoxed.

"I really enjoy it," she answered defensively. "If I get good enough at it, maybe I can find a publisher who'd be interested in my work, publish an anthology..."

"An anthology..." I said sceptically.

"An

anthology,

" Paige cut in. "They say there's good money in erotica. People buy it, and some writers even make a decent living at it."

I sat back, unconvinced.

"Anyway," she hurried on. "I was thinking if I could get a portfolio of my writing together, along with some really good photographs, maybe I could get a publisher's attention."

I felt the other shoe suddenly drop. So

this

is why she was here. She wanted to know if I had any images that might help her to sell her stuff.

I put my hands up in front of me, silently waving

no

. "I

really

don't have any material like that

...

" I started.

"I didn't mean it

that

way," she quickly interrupted. "If you could just take a look at some of my pieces, I was hoping you could tell me how to find someone to work with me on the photos."

Jesus.

She wanted me to read her stuff. I didn't know how to respond.

"Look," she hurried on, "How about I read some to you, and then we can talk about it."

I sat back, feeling boxed in. If I said no, I'd be telling her I didn't believe in her. If I went along...

What?

I thought.

So I listen to a few minutes of smut, tell her I really don't know anything about that side of the business, and then change the subject?

Wanting to be as gentle with her as possible, I opted for the latter. "Okay... sure," I sighed. "Let 'er rip." I pulled my legs up onto the couch, spun sideways to face her, and relaxed back against the rolled arm.

"Great!" she burbled. Her face lit up, and she turned to sit the same way at the other end of the couch. I waited for her to start.

She looked lovely. Wearing a short cotton dress that showed off her long legs, her stellar breasts obviously braless under the thin material, her shoulder-length brown hair swept up in a loose bun, she looked every bit the innocent ingénue.

She started reading.

_________________________

Ten minutes later I sat there, now at a loss words. She had an exceptional talent.

She looked up at me after the read-through of her second piece. Her face was furrowed with worry; concerned I was going to dismiss what I'd just heard.

"That was...

remarkable

," I stammered. "Amazing. I felt like I was right there..." I was now incredibly aroused. My cock was jammed up against the waistband of my jeans, begging for air.

"Really?" she asked, breaking into a huge smile of relief. "That's

so

what I'm trying to achieve - make people feel like it's actually happening to them..."

"Well you definitely pulled

that

off," I said. I repositioned my hips awkwardly on the couch, trying to relieve the pressure on my trapped prick.

Paige glanced down at my crotch, her eyes growing wider. The music seemed to pause for longer than normal between songs. She looked back up at me.

"So it really turned you on?" she asked quietly.

"Mmmm,"

I hummed. "One way to describe it. If you weren't here right now, I'd probably be... uh... you know..."

"

Masturbating?

" she asked. The way she formed the word sounded almost naïve. Innocent, even.

"No question,"

I breathed back, throwing caution to the wind.

"Wow,"

she murmured, looking down at her papers. She shuffled them. For a moment, I thought she was getting ready to leave.

She glanced back up at me. "Do you want to hear another one?"

I nodded. "Oh

please

..."

my cock whispered.

"Great! And... umm... if you want to make yourself more

comfortable,

feel free..." She looked down at my bulge.

Christ... really?

I thought to myself.

Do I do this?

Ah

Jesus why not?

I was

so

fucking turned on.

Throwing caution to the wind, my heart pounding and my hands shaking slightly, I reached down and undid my belt. I popped open the snap on my jeans, and slowly pulled down the zipper. I was commando: my rock-hard prick sprang out into the open. I could almost hear it sigh with relief. Pushing my jeans down my legs, I kicked them off.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. Looking up, I saw Paige staring intently at my cock. Her hands, still holding her papers, were shaking slightly too.

"Go ahead," I croaked.

She looked down at the pages, took a deep breath, and began reading out loud again. Her voice quavered slightly.

Like the other pieces, this one was exceptional. The story of a first-time encounter, it unfolded with skill, and passion, and extraordinary grace. I was mesmerized.

As she read, my hand slid down over my cock. I couldn't resist. Gripping myself firmly, I began gently squeezing my shaft. A drop of fluid oozed out of its slit, making my strokes 'snick' with moisture. Paige shivered at the sound, licked her lips, and kept on reading.

As my pace picked up, so did her difficulties reading the story. She began to stumble over her words, going back, repeating herself.

Finally stopping, she let go of the papers and let them flutter to the floor. Dropping her hands to her lap, she slowly started hiking up her dress, still staring at my swollen prick. I could see her pale blue panties coming into view: a dark damp patch had spread across the crotch.

"I

promised

myself I was going to stay professional," she stammered. "But... ah

Christ..

." She spread her legs further apart, and pushed both hands roughly down inside her panties. She began rhythmically fondling herself as she watched me...

________________________

... and then the front door opened.

Margot walked in.

I froze in mid-stroke, suddenly understanding how a trapped fox felt. Oddly, Paige didn't skip a beat. She continued massaging her mound with a dreamy look on her face. "Hey, babe," she murmured to Margot. "Hey, hon," Margot quietly replied.

"Well... he's

primed,

" Paige giggled, now making moist sounds with her fingers as she slid them up and down between her folds.

Jesus,

I said to myself.

Have I just been played?

Margot looked coolly at me as I lay paralyzed on the couch. My cock was rapidly deflating in my hand. "I thought you'd be further along than this by now," she remarked.

"He liked my stories too much," Paige giggled again, then shivered, her breath hitching as she hooked two fingers up inside herself.

Margot stepped toward the couch, looking down at my wilting cock. "That's a shame..." she said. "You had such a

lovely

stiffie going. Why suddenly so glum?" She smiled thinly. I couldn't think of a thing to say.

"So here's the thing," she continued as she knelt down on the floor beside me. "For the past year, you've been going on and on about my exes... wondering if I was fooling around again... whatever." I nodded silently, now covering my limp dick with both hands. This was incredibly embarrassing.

"The truth is, I've only fucked two people since we moved to Vancouver. You, and Paige."

I looked at Paige, and then back at Margot. "Friday afternoons, right?" She nodded

. I

knew

it.

"I've

really

done my best not to screw up," Margot continued. "I'm doing better than you, anyway," she looked at me reproachfully.

My heart skipped, exposed. She was right. I'd been wandering a lot lately.

The squelchy sounds from Paige's pussy had stopped. She sat motionless, watching Margot and I navigate the conversation.

"So... here we are." Margot said, looking over at Paige, and then back at me. "Everything now out in the open."

Literally,

I thought.

I was still covering myself with my hands. She reached out, placing hers on top of mine, and squeezed gently. "Can we just agree that sometimes -

just sometimes

- we both need to play with other people? Can we work with that?"

I looked at her, nodding silently. She leaned over and brushed her lips against mine. Our kiss felt tentative at first, almost awkward after so long. And then it deepened, drawing us back to where we'd been months ago.

As usual, my cock was living in a world of its own, and I came surging back to life. Margot glanced down, saw it poking out from between my fingers, and murmured "

Good

boy..."

She moved down to kiss my cupped hands. I slowly pulled them away, freeing up my shaft. Paige began fondling herself again, watching us.

Margot lowered her head over my thighs, flicking lightly at the tip of my prick with her tongue. "

Much

better," she whispered, before sliding me in between her lips. Gripping the base of my cock with her left hand, she began sliding her mouth up and down as she gently pumped me. She was

so

good at this. I moaned with pleasure.

Paige, entranced, lifted up her bum and slipped her panties down her legs. She had a beautiful dark bush, full and lush, labia already swollen and glistening. Rolling gracefully off the couch onto the floor, she moved in behind Margot on her knees, snuggling up to her. Her hands moved around to Margot's breasts and began gently squeezing them through her dress. It was Margot's turn to moan.

"My pussy..."

she whispered to Paige over her shoulder.

Paige slid a hand down over Margot's stomach, rucking up her dress and slipping inside her panties. Shivering, Margot took more of me into her mouth, twirling her tongue faster over my glans.

Pushing herself back for a moment, Paige reached down, grasped the hem of her own dress, and pulled it off over her head. Her breasts were perfect large pears, nipples engorged, areoles puckered with excitement. Her neat, moist pussy glimmered in the firelight.

Paige slid down the zipper on Margot's sleeveless dress, and then tugged at the fabric. It fell, puddling at Margot's knees. Margot raised herself up ever so slightly, my cock still deep in her mouth, while Paige pulled the dress out from beneath her. Except for her panties, Margot was now completely naked as well.

Scooting close up behind her again, Paige pressed her breasts against Margot's naked back and reached around, sliding her hand back down to Margot's pussy. She began fingering her forcibly.

Pulling her mouth off my cock, Margot tilted her head back, eyes closed, groaning. "Yes...

like that... harder... like that...

" She thrust down onto Paige's hand, wanting more.

Two fingers now deep inside Margot, Paige began tugging at her in earnest, working her quickly towards orgasm.

I rolled off the couch, cock waving stiffly in the air. Stepping over behind Paige, I slid down on my knees as well, the tip of my cock now just brushing her ass. Still eagerly working Margot, Paige thrust her hips back towards me.

"Fuck me,"

she panted.

I eagerly pressed up against her, prick in hand, sliding it down the crack of her ass. She leaned forward slightly, moving her legs apart. She and Margot were breathing together almost in unison.

Slipping two fingers between Paige's moist folds, I slid them carefully into her opening. She was

drenched

. Paige moaned in frustration, pushing back at me harder. "

Fuck

me," she pleaded.

I shivered with anticipation, then slid the head of my cock down to her entrance, slowly easing myself in. "Oh for Christ's sake

FUCK

me!" Paige wailed.

"...for Christ's sake FUCK

her

," Margot echoed faintly, lost in her own world as Paige thrummed her cunt.

Doing as I was told, I began thrusting roughly into Paige. She was

so

wet... I was beside myself, and harder than I'd been in months.

I looked down, watching my prick slip in and out between her grasping lips. Every few seconds, fresh spurts of liquid flowed out onto my shaft, sliding down her thighs, and onto the rug. I wasn't going to last much longer at this rate...

Margot's breathing changed, picking up speed as she approached orgasm. Paige responded by working her even harder, now almost lifting her off the floor with her two fingers.

"Uh... uh..."

Margot panted, swivelling her hips from side to side frantically, her head hanging down, eyes squeezed shut. I knew she was close.

"Come on babe, come,

cum

..." Paige urged. "

Cum

for us..." she begged, frantically frigging Margot's cunt.

Margot, still not getting there, whined with growing frustration, "Shit... not yet...

almost...

" She suddenly collapsed onto the floor, close to tears.

"Jesus!"

she moaned. "I need a

cock

to finish..."

My thrusts into Paige had slowed as I watched Margot struggle towards her almost-orgasm. Paige looked back at me over her shoulders, shrugged slightly, and murmured, "

So

close..." She didn't look happy. Pulling away from me, my cock popped quietly out from between her labia.