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From: declan@weirdness.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Alexandra Ch07(Slow, Romance, Literary Erotica)
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Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2007 12:10:01 -0500
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Hi
I have posted various chapters of this novel to various newsgroups and
web sites over the last few years (and from several different email
accounts). I have lost track of where I post what. So I have decided
to post the complete novel here over the next few days.
The complete novel and my other stories are also available on my
website www.DeclanStanley.com.
-----------

Alexandra Chapter 7

Then a miracle happened ! Alexandra phoned me on the next Thursday to
arrange to meet me on Friday. I was stunned. I'd half expected her to
disappear from my life for good. But she'd phoned. She wanted to
continue our relationship. I shot from the depths of depression to the
highs of elation.
 And yet the elation was tempered with a hint of suspicion. I wasn't a
complete fool, I knew that she hadn't suddenly started to love me. By
this stage deep I was beginning to believe that she never would. And
yet my "master plan" had been to give to her as much as I could and to
keep giving, until there could be no doubt in her mind that I really
did love her.
Some part of me knew even then that I'd fail. That if she didn't want
to believe that I loved her, if she couldn't believe that I loved her,
then no matter what I did she wouldn't be convinced. If she believed
that I was lying when I told her that I loved her, then she could
believe that every thing I did to try to convince her of that love was
simply part of some plan I had to trick her.
This is where I first realised that guilt was playing a part in my
thinking, because I did have a plan to make her change her mind. I did
do these things to convince her that I was in love with her. And I
began to have an inkling that I was not only trying to fool her, but
that I was trying to fool myself. I was not only trying to prove to
her that I loved her, but I was trying to prove it to myself as well.
I was totally confused about how I felt about her. When I held her in
my arms and the hormones were flowing I could forget everything else.
There was no doubt in my mind. I had her all to myself and she filled
my universe. It was once she had come that the disappointment came
into it, when I had to get up and go home in the middle of the night.
And even when I got home and masturbated to relieve my frustration, it
wasn't satisfying any more.
Oh I still got a trill out of making love to her, but I found it
increasingly difficult to feel anything deeper. And yet this is when
she started to act as if she might have stronger feelings for me. This
is when she started to do the things I had wanted her to all along.
And this is when I could no longer believe that she meant them. Or
rather, that they meant the same things to her as they did to me.
I don't mean that she suddenly blurted out that she loved me. I mean
that she started to talk to me, and phone me, and behave as if she had
an interest in me other than as a biological vibrator. She started to
express an interest in doing things with me, in sharing at least some
part of her life with me. Though I never did get to meet any of her
friends or relations.
So it was with all these thoughts revolving around in my head that I
waited for her that Friday night. And once again when she arrived they
all fled from my conscious thought. She was beautiful, and I loved
her. And nothing else mattered.
She was wearing black shoes and heavy black silk tights. With a
straight, dark blue skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees.
She had a lighter blue blouse, with the top two buttons open and a
light blue jumper draped over her shoulders. Her black hair was tied
back in a pony tail and she had dark eye shadow that made the sparkle
in her eyes shine right out.
Once again her beauty took my breath away and my mouth went dry just
looking at her. I wanted to put my arms around her and crush her to
me. I wanted my fingers to touch her and my tongue to taste her. My
hormones raced and I felt an erection building.
"Hi," was all I could say.
"Hi," she smiled back.
She started a conversation and I responded automatically. I don't know
what we talked about. All I can remember is that we went to a pub for
a drink first and then went to the lighthouse cinema to see a French
film called the Hairdresser's Husband. All through the film I sat with
my arm around her shoulder, running my fingers through her hair and
brushing against her cheek, and her neck, and her shoulder, and her
breast. We were both very aroused by the time we started back to her
flat. And even though the cold night air served to cool us down a bit,
once she'd got me home it didn't take us long to warm up again.
When I first started going out with Alexandra, and making love to her,
I didn't take off my jeans or underpants because, at least on the
first few occasions, I felt that she would be shocked, or offended, or
would panic. Even then I think I knew she was pretending that we
weren't having sex. Anyway she didn't seem at all keen to get her
hands on me.
Then as our relationship progressed and she began to take off more of
her clothing, she never did get entirely naked with me, I began to
strip completely. And she defiantly knew that I was getting aroused
and that this was a sexual act we were performing. But she still
ignored me from the waist down. She'd kiss and neck, and her hands
would roam my torso, but they'd never go below my hips.
A couple of times I took her hand and deliberately put in on my
erection. I'd squeezed her fingers closed around it and give her a
couple of thrusts, as a gentle hint to what she should be doing. But a
few moments after I'd taken my hand away she'd move her's back up my
body.
So I was forced to accept that she wasn't going to do anything down
there. The couple of occasions that I tried, as gently as I could, to
push her in that direction I just ended up even more frustrated than
before. So I stopped taking my jeans off. It didn't seem to bother
her, she'd still strip down to just a T-shirt or blouse and I could
make love to her in a fashion she'd accept.
That night, as usual, I made love to her and she sighed in contentment
and cuddled up to me for a few minutes. She was lying across me
wearing just her blouse. My right hand was tangled in her hair and my
left cupped her breast. I floated in that sea of contentment I always
got when she came, where I could pretend that she really did love me.
She sat up and I let my hands fall away from her, the spell broken,
thinking that she'd say it was time for me to leave now. But instead
she started to unfasten my jeans.
I looked up at her puzzled.
She smiled down at me, "I think it's time you got some now. Don't
you?"
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. A thought flared,
was I supposed to express profound gratitude ! But she was pulling
down my jeans and underpants and a trill ran through my body. I could
tell by the way she touched me that she was inexperienced, that I was
maybe the first guy she'd done this to. Though I still didn't know
precisely what she was going to do. And why she'd suddenly picked this
time to start doing it.
She rubbed the palm of her hand against my testicles, gently pressing
and squeezing them. Then she brushed the fingers of her other hand
along the length of my half soft penis. Back and forth, back and
forth, just barely touching it as it stiffened and stood up. She
swallowed noisily and I looked up at her.
And found myself enthralled by the look of utter wonderment, mixed
with complete concentration, on her face. As her hands worked, I
looked up at her face. Her eyes were fixed, unblinking, at what her
hands were doing. I don't think she could quite believe what was
happening.
Her tongue flicked about her lips, disappearing inside as she
swallowed, then the tip just breaking through her lips as she
continued to tease me.
By this stage I was quite hard and the fingers of both her hands were
on my erection. As she ran one set along the top, she brushed the
other down the underside. Then back up and back down, one hand
reaching the base just as the other reached the top. The sensation of
her dry fingers barely touching the tip was making sparks fly.
She wasn't really touching me tightly enough to masturbate me, but I'd
been so aroused by making love to her, not just tonight, but over
months, that it wasn't taking much to make my juices flow. I could
feel my balls tighten already, as an orgasm built. She continued to
stroke me, seemingly oblivious to anything but her fingers on my
erection.
I closed my eyes and moaned, tilting my head back as began to come. My
balls tightened and the fire started to squeeze its way out. Then she
stopped and took her hand away. I lay there for a few moments,
breathing heavily, waiting for her to continue. She didn't. Slowly I
opened my eyes to see why she'd stopped.
"Well," she smiled down at me. "I think that's enough. Don't you?"
I couldn't say anything
She stood up and went into the bathroom, closing both doors behind
her.
I looked down at my straining erection. And at the tiny bead of pre-
come excretion at its tip.
"Fuck," I whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
But there was no real anger in my voice. I was to bewildered to be
angry. I was too stunned to feel anything.
I reached down to stroke my wilting erection, but my orgasm had
dissipated by then and I wasn't in the mood to start again.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom, I presume she was
washing her hands. Then a few minutes of silence before the toilet was
flushed.
She was smiling when she came back in and knelt on the floor beside
me. She put her arm around my shoulders and I automatically put my arm
around her waist. I didn't know what to say or what to do. Did she
know what she was doing to me. Because if she did she definitely
didn't love me. But I couldn't figure out what she thought she was
doing to me.
Did she really think that I enjoyed what she did. Was it supposed to
be like a kiss on the lips is the next best thing to French kissing,
at least when you're fifteen. Or was she so ignorant of sex that she
didn't know that boys are supposed to ejaculate when they orgasm.
Maybe she thought that I'd moaned because I'd come, rather than
because I was about to. Or perhaps it really was because "bringing
forth the seed when there is no chance of conception" is a sin and
stopping just short was saving her immortal soul from eternal
damnation.
By this stage she was running her fingers through the hair on my
stomach. She really liked the fact that I had hair on my body. She
didn't act as if she'd done something wrong, she didn't expect me to
be frustrated and angry. What the fuck did she think. And why the fuck
wouldn't she tell me.
In my most paranoid moments I knew she was doing all this to me
deliberately. Was she punishing me for falling in love with her? Did
she have such low self-esteem that anybody who liked her must be as
awful as she was?
Was she deliberately trying to frustrate and unbalance me as some sort
of test to see if I really loved her? Or did she just not understand
what she was doing to me?
And I meant that last question in every sense, both physically and
emotionally, and even spiritually.
But once again when I tried to talk to her about it I couldn't. There
and then all those questions burned too brightly in my head. I
couldn't focus on any one of them and I couldn't articulate them as
well as I can now. And when I saw her away from that room where all
our "love making" happened it all seemed so distant. Over the
intervening days all the frustration would be burned away by my
desire, fanning it and fuelling it, so that the next time I saw her I
wanted to possess her so badly that nothing else mattered.
So when she phoned me the next Thursday I was delighted to accept her
invitation to go out with her again on Friday.
Though I was exceedingly nervous as I waited for her to show. Strange
as it may sound I had gotten used to her not returning the complement
when I made love to her. I expected it. And I could accept it, at
least as long as I could explain it as her being shy and
inexperienced. But now that she seemed to be trying to respond to me
more fully it was confusing.
I didn't understand why she would want to make love to me now, if she
didn't want to before. I didn't even know if she was trying to make me
come. Did she think that she was giving me pleasure? Didn't she
realise that I wanted to be with her despite the way she treated me,
not because of it? Didn't she realise that what she had done to me was
worst than being ignored?
In the beginning I'd worked it out logically. I wanted to make love to
her, so I made love to her. She didn't want to make love to me, so she
didn't. I believe in freedom of the individual. I wasn't about to make
her do anything she didn't want to. I hadn't made love to her in order
to emotionally blackmail her into making love back to me. I could wait
until either she grew to love me or I stopped loving her.
But logic doesn't work with emotion. I realise now that my master plan
was working. She was falling in love with me. She was learning to
trust me, because I had tried so hard to prove that I did love her and
that she could trust me. But by this time I was no longer sure that
she was worth the effort. It seems at terrible thing to say, but I had
put so much effort into the relationship and she had put in so little.
And I hadn't gotten what I really wanted, and wasn't convinced that
she could give me what I needed.
However it wasn't so clear to me at the time. I was still convinced
that I loved her. Maybe it was just that I wanted so badly to love
someone. That I needed that type of intimacy. And I thought that it
would solve all my problems. To have someone to support and encourage
me, to tell me that what I was doing was worth the effort it took,
that I hadn't made the biggest mistake in my life by giving up my job
to concentrate on my writing.
I know now that I would have grown to despise anyone who would have
treated me like that. What I needed was someone to give me a kick up
the backside and tell me to get on with my life. I know now that
falling in love won't solve all your problems for you, that it just
gives you an extra hand over the most tricky ones.
But at that time I still had my sights set on her, even though
underneath I knew it was a self-destructive addiction. So when she
phoned the next week to arrange another date I jumped at the chance to
see her again. Jumped at the chance to convince her of my love and
make her mine for ever. Like a moth to a candle flame.
I could barely wait for Friday night to come along and then I had to
wait for her to turn up. There was a great pressure building up inside
me, I was brimming over with things I wanted to tell her, things that
would show her how I really felt for her. Things that would convince
her that I was in love with her. That would make her open up to me.
That would make her mine.
But once she arrived they all dried up. Every time I started to say
something it seemed so weak and insubstantial. Everything was a
clich�. Nothing sounded right. And so the conversation never got
beyond polite trivialities.
I kept saying to myself that now wasn't the correct time. Wait a more
minutes till the conversation is a little more relaxed. Wait until
after we'd seen the film. Wait until after we'd had a drink. Wait
until after we'd had coffee in Bewley's.
But when we came out of Bewley's, and I'd turned to walk home with
her, she stopped and put her hand on my arm.
"I can't invite you back tonight, Kevin," she looked down.
"Oh. Why not?" I asked.
"My sister's come to stay with me for a few weeks," she explained.
"And obviously I can't bring you back at this time of night."
"Obviously," I agreed.
She looked at me to see if I was being sarcastic, but I just smiled
sweetly at her.
"You see," Alexandra explained. "She was living with her boyfriend.
But now he's her ex-boyfriend. So she's had to move out."
"Oh," I nodded.
"But she's only going to be staying for a couple of weeks," she
assured.
"O.K.," I said. "Do you fancy doing anything else over the weekend?"
"Well," she hesitated. Then looked up at me, "I'll give you a call
tomorrow, Kevin."
"Oh, O.K.," I said, and went home knowing that she meant that she
didn't want to see me.
So it was a bit of a shock when she did phone the next day.
It started off as usual. I turned up early and had to wait for her to
arrive. And she breezed along fifteen minutes late, without seemingly
a care in the world. We went for a drink as usual, but I can't
remember what we talked about. My emotions were a mess. On the one
hand I was over the moon that she was taking a more active interest in
wanting to see me. But on the other I was scared shitless that she was
going to up and disappear on me again, with out any warning and with
out any explanation.
Maybe my memory has been revised by subsequent events but the trill of
seeing her wasn't as intense as it had been previously. And I clearly
remember that I didn't have an erection when we left the cinema,
despite having had my arm around her for over an hour.
As we where walking back up O'Connell St. I had a mischievous impulse.
"I thought you didn't like Science Fiction films," I said.
"I don't," she replied. "Not usually."
"But you liked that one," I smiled.
"That wasn't an S.F. film," she said.
"Yes it was," I looked across at her.
"No," she thought for a moment. "That was more a fairy tail."
"Well, yes," I conceded. "But that doesn't stop it being Science
Fiction as well."
"Oh yeah," she smiled sceptically.
"Yes," I replied. "S.F. is a wide field. You can have S.F. love
stories, S.F. adventure stories, and even literature that's also
Science Fiction."
"O.K., Kevin," she didn't sound convinced.
"You just think that you don't like S.F. films," I explained. "So if
you like a film, by definition, it can't be an S.F. film, else you
wouldn't have liked it."
"That's silly," she looked away.
"I agree," I smiled.
We continued down O'Connell St. for a few minutes then, just as we
reached Cleary's department store, she stopped. I looked around at
her.
"This is where I get my bus from," she gestured at the row of bus
stops.
And I realised that I wasn't being invited back to her place that
night either.
"Oh," I said.
"You don't have to wait, Kevin," she smiled. "There's buses coming
along all the time. I won't have to wait long for one."
I stood there for a few moments while I figured out that she wanted me
to leave.
"Oh." I shrugged, "O.K." And stepped close to put my arms around her
and kiss her good night.
She gave me a quick peck on the lips and stepped back.
I dropped my arms and turned to go. "See'ya," I spoke over my
shoulder.
"See you at the club," she called after me.
"Yeh," I answered back, knowing that she had said that so many times
and not shown up. But then, I told myself, that was the old Alexandra,
this is the new Alexandra. The one that appears to show some regard
for my feelings.
But I was wrong, she had decided to do her disappearing act again.

-----------
Copyright Declan Stanley.
The full story can be found at: http://declanstanley.com/novels/alexandra/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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