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From: declan@weirdness.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Alexandra Ch08(Slow, Romance, Literary Erotica)
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Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2007 12:10:02 -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 8

She didn't turn up at the club and she didn't phone the next Thursday
or Friday. So on Saturday I phoned her. She wasn't in. I left a
message but she didn't phone back. All day I waited. And once again
all the buried anxieties bubbled up with in me. All the thoughts that
she's had an accident and is lying dead in hospital somewhere and
nobody knows to contact me. All the anger and frustration at the fact
that I didn't know what she was doing.
And I have to admit all the anger and bitterness that she was out
somewhere enjoying herself while I was here sitting beside the phone
waiting on the off chance that she'd phone. I know I could have gone
out. I know I didn't have to sit in and wait for her. But I couldn't
make myself. I wanted to see her so badly that I couldn't make myself
miss the chance that she might phone. And yet, even thought I blamed
her, I knew that I was doing it to myself.
I finally admitted to myself that I couldn't go on like this. A few
weeks of bliss, a few weeks of agony . Trying to switch on and off my
emotions when she appeared and disappeared from my life. Trying to
convince myself that she really did like me. That I wasn't a fool to
give her so much and get so little in return. That one day she turn
around and tell me that she loved me. One day she'd treat me with a
little respect.
Every time I'd tried to broach the subject I'd failed to push it home.
I'd always chickened out because I'd not wanted to hear that she
didn't love me. While it was in doubt I could convince myself, pretend
to myself, that she loved me. But once I gotten her to tell me
straight, and if the answer was no, then I'd be fucked.
I was scared shitless that she didn't love me. That I'd invested all
this emotional capital in someone who just didn't give a shit. But yet
wasn't she acting like someone who didn't give a shit. Wasn't I just
throwing good love after bad. Wasn't it time to cut my losses.
Wouldn't I be better off without her.
But then I'd have to admit that I wasn't the irresistible catch that
my male ego was convinced I was. That my manly charms had failed to
woo her. I'll resist the temptation to include a sentence that claims
she must be gay. I'd have to admit that I failed to have as much of an
impact on her life as she'd had on mine. The fact that I'm writing
this proves just how deeply she'd affected me.
It was my own fault for wrapping my life around her when I'd barely
knew her. Like I said at the beginning of this novel it was my self-
destructive impulse to fall head over heels in love with complete
strangers that was to blame. I'm sure the psychologists have a name
for this type of compulsive behaviour, but I don't know what it is.
All I know is that it would take only a little more self pity to turn
it into suicidal tendencies.
So there it was. I'd finally come face to face with the thought that
I'd break it off with her. That she wouldn't be the centre of my world
for the rest of my life. That I'd be able to go with out her. I needed
to know once and for all what she felt about me. And I was willing to
contemplate the thought that she didn't love me. That there was no
future for us. I was willing to bring our relationship to a make or
break situation. I was going to have some resolution to all this
uncertainty and insecurity. I'd finally have an answer.
But first of course I'd have to wait for her to get in touch with me
again.
I didn't have to wait too long this time. She was only missing for two
weeks before she turned up at the camera club again. I was standing
upstairs sipping a cup of coffee after the meeting when she walked in.
My heart almost stopped dead.
She stood in the door for a second and smiled at me. Then she walked
over to talk, "So how have you been."
I forced myself to swallow. "Fine," I replied. My heart now racing.
"You haven't phoned me," she said.
"Yes I did," I snapped. "You never phoned me."
"Oh," she looked down.
"Listen," I calmed my voice. "We have to talk."
"Oh," she looked up again. "O.K.," she gestured at the coffee pot.
"Just let me get some coffee first."
I wanted to end it now. I wanted a short sharp ending. I wanted to be
finished with her once and for all. But all I could say was, "O.K."
Somebody came up to me and started talking about the lecture we'd had
that night. I responded automatically, not being able to concentrate
on anything except that Alexandra had gotten her coffee and come back
to stand beside me. Very close beside me, her free hand brushing
against my leg, my balls beginning to tighten.
I could smell her perfume and her hair brushed against my shoulder as
she turned to talk to someone else. I walked away and joined a
conversation on the other side of the room. A few minutes later
Alexandra was beside me again, this time rubbing her arm against mine
and once again standing very close. Every time I looked at her our
eyes met and she smiled.
She was giving me all these "Come on" signals and I knew that she
wasn't going to have sex with me. I knew that if I made love to her
that I'd end up even more frustrated that when I'd started out.
And yet, I thought to myself. If what I had said to her had struck a
cord. If she has finally decided to acknowledge her love for me, if
she now understands what making love to her means to me, wouldn't it
be foolish to throw it all away. To ruin it by dumping her just when
she's ready to really love me.
I thought, I've got to get out of here. I've got to get her alone so
we can talk about this. I've got to know if she's ready to love me
back.
But what it really boiled down to is that I was unable to make myself
end the relationship. I was unable to control my emotions long enough
to tell her it was over. I was unable to stop my dreams that one day
she'd love me back.
I walked over to the counter and put my empty coffee cup down. She
followed and put her's beside mine.
"I think it's time to go," I looked at her.
"Yes," she nodded. "Come on back to my place. We can talk there."
When we stepped outside the cold night air seemed to clear my head and
when she put her hand in mine there was no acute physical reaction on
the part of my involuntary muscle system.
We didn't say much as we walked around to her flat. I was nervous
about what would happen, about what I'd say. I knew one way or another
that all my doubts would be resolved, at least that's what I thought
at the time. I knew that it was make or break time for our
relationship. I just didn't know which it would be.
When we got into her flat I hung my coat on the back of the door
beside her's. Sitting on an armchair and I automatically took off my
shoes and stockings. While she started to tidy up in the kitchen
alcove.
"Do you want some coffee?" she called over her shoulder.
"No," I replied. "I won't get any sleep tonight if I do."
She put a few cups and a couple of plates away in the cupboard above
the sink. Then she walked back out into the middle of the room.
"Listen," she said. "I know I've been a naughty girl, not phoning and
going away and everything."
I didn't know what to say. "Naughty girl"? "Going away"? Did she want
me to spank her? Did she think I wanted her to ask my permission
before going away for the weekend?
"It's not that," I said. I wanted to explain that she didn't need to
ask me before going away. I just wanted her to tell me, to let me know
so I wouldn't be sitting around waiting for her to phone me. So I
wouldn't be disappointed when she didn't. So I didn't feel as if I'd
been dumped.
But more than that, was it so much to ask that she tell me what she
felt for me? That she'd talk to me. That she'd treat me with some
respect and not take me for granted.
I wanted to tell her all this. But when I opened my mouth nothing
would come out. After all those months of frustration it had all
clogged up inside me and I couldn't tell her. Now, the first time
she'd seemed interested in listening to me, I couldn't find the words
to explain.
There was a few moments of silence while I struggled with my feelings
and the words I needed to explain them. While she stood there looking
down at me. Eventually I ended up just shaking my head.
She looked me in the eyes, slowly sat down on the floor, pulled off
her sweatshirt and leaned back against the bed. She was wearing a silk
cami-top over her bra. Looking up at me she smiled invitingly. And I
was on the floor beside her, with my arms around her before I knew
what had happened. The feel of the silk on her skin and the taste of
her lips on mine was divine. Then her tongue was on my ear and I was
sucking the joint of her shoulder and neck.
I said to myself, I shouldn't be doing this. Yet her skin was hot
under my fingers as I unhooked her bra. I told myself that I'd come
here to talk to her, as I slipped the straps off her shoulders and
arms and pulled her bra from under her cami-top before tossing it onto
the bed. I thought, now would be a good time to stop and tell her that
I'm not happy with the relationship, as I put one hand to the back of
her head, the other to her breast and kissed and squeezed and hugged
her.
Her arms wrapped around me and pulled me close. Then both my arms
where around her and our bodies were pressed tightly together. She
tilted her head up and lay back on the floor.
I lay on top of her and she wrapped her legs around me. As we kissed
my mind went into over drive. I thought, here we are in a parody of
the missionary position. I knew if we where naked she'd never have lay
like that. I thought, but for a few layers of cloth .... That she was
bringing me so close just to deny me ....
I sat up suddenly.
She looked up at me, but my left hand continued to stroke her crotch
and she giggled. She was available. I wanted her. I couldn't resist.
With my other hand I started to untie her shoes. First one, and her
sock, then the other and her feet where naked. I ran my hands along
her legs, up and down the insides of her thighs, feeling her muscles
through the denim. Her breath came faster and I ran both hands up to
open her jeans.
Denim on silk, on silk as I stroked outside. Then silk on silk on
flesh as I slipped my hands inside her jeans. Then silk on hair as I
slipped them between her cami-top and her panties. Then straight flesh
as I slipped them inside that. Then hard nipples surrounded by firm
breasts as I leaned forward and ran my hands up the length of her
body.
She gasped. Then my lips where on hers and my tongue probed deep. I
rested my weight on my elbows and rubbed the bulge of my erection
against her silk panties. She squirmed underneath me and her hands
where inside my jumper pulling my T-shirt out of my jeans. Her hands
kneaded their way up my back pushing both my jumper and T-shirt before
them. I lent on one elbow as she pulled my other arm free. Then
reversed the process. Then she pulled them over my head and threw them
away. I pushed down and sucked a breast into my mouth. She arched her
body under me and her hands where stroking my body again.
I snaked my hands back down her body and slipped them inside her
panties. I pushed both them and her jeans down off her bottom. Then I
zig-zaged my lips and tongue and nose down her body as I pushed my
hands onto her the back of her legs. I stopped when I reached her
pubic hair. I could smell she was hot and damp. My mouth watered. But
I forced myself to sit up.
Slowly I pulled her jeans and panties off her legs. Caressing her firm
muscles as I did so. She sat up, keeping her legs together and to one
side, and put her arms around my neck. She smiled at me before we
started kissing again.
Then all my memories fade into an ecstatic blur of sensations. There
was warm silk scrunched in my fist. Her tongue probing deep into my
mouth. Her hair pressed against her ear as I sucked. Her breast
dangling over my mouth as I licked her nipple. The feel of her skin
under my fingers. Her hot breath on my ear, and my shoulder, and my
nipple. The weight of her as she rolled on top. The weight of me on
her as I continued the roll. The constant rush of hormones as we made
love.
Then my memory snaps back into focus.
She was on top. We where kissing. My hands where running up and down
her back, feeling the silk against her warm skin. She began to rub her
body against mine. She pressed her vagina against the bulge in my
jeans and started to masturbate herself. I froze. Something inside me
snapped and all my passion evaporated. I let my hands drop to the
floor. She continued to kiss me and rub her body against mine for a
few moments. Then she noticed I'd stopped responding. She sat up and
took a deep breath. Looking down at me she smiled.
I don't know if I smiled back. A sequence of thoughts burned in my
head. it's one thing to let somebody make love to you and not care if
they come. it's another stage of unacceptable to let someone make you
come and to deliberately stop them from coming in return. But it was
the straw that broke the camel's back to deliberately deny someone
their orgasm and yet to make sure you yourself came. I blinked and
looked down at her.
She was curled up across my stomach, with her head resting against her
left arm and the fingers of her right hand slowly circling my left
nipple. I couldn't read the expression on her face.
I put my right arm behind my head and reached down to run the finger
tips of my left hand through her pubic hair. She looked up at me and
smiled contentedly. I tried to push my hand between her legs, but she
squeezed them tight together to stop me.
I waited a few minutes for my thoughts to clear then said, "Listen,
Alexandra. About the sex ..."
"No, Kevin," she interrupted.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm not going to have sex with you," she sat up.
"Hold on a moment !" I was astonished.
"No," she stood up. "I'm not going to discuss it."
She stepped over me on her way to the wardrobe. I grabbed her thigh.
"Don't do this to me, Alexandra," I pleaded.
She didn't say anything, just pulled her leg away from me. I let her
go. She went to the wardrobe and took out her silk dressing grown.
I sat up and started to get dressed. She watched from beside the
wardrobe as I put on my T-shirt and jumper. Then I walked over to sit
on her bed and pulled on my shoes and stockings. I could feel her
looking at me, but I didn't look back. We didn't say anything until I
was putting on my coat.
"So," I looked down. "This is the end then?"
"Well ..." she paused. "I guess so."
I looked at her and she looked away. "Why, Alexandra?" I asked.
"Why what?" she looked back to me.
"Why did you treat me the way you did?" I leaned against the door.
"Why did you do the things you did to me?"
"What do you mean?" she started to smile, but stopped when she saw the
look on my face.
"I mean ..." no matter which way I looked at it all came down to the
fact that I'd make love to her and make her come and she'd not let me
come. I knew that there was more to the relationship. I knew that the
sex was just a reflection of the other problems that we were having. I
knew that I had never properly explained how I felt about her to her.
I'd tried and I'd tried, but I could never find a way that she'd
accept. So when it came to the crunch all I could think about was sex.
I cleared my throat, "I mean that you have no problem with me making
love to you and making me come, but that for some unknown reason I'm
not allowed come. I mean that you give the impression that you'll only
go out with me when you have nothing better to do. I mean that you
treat me with total and utter contempt."
She looked down, but didn't say anything.
"When I make love to you it means that I love you," I started to
explain. "When I hold your hand walking down the street it's because I
want to be close to you. The more physically intimate we are the more
it means that I love you."
I paused, but she still didn't have anything to say. "I've told you
that I love you so many times. And I've said it in words as well as
actions. You've never once told me what I mean to you."
There saw silence for a few moments then she said, "You see that
whenever I've had a boyfriend before we've always gone back to his
place ..."
I waited for a few moments, then asked, "You mean that if you'd come
back to my place you'd have had sex with me?"
"No, Kevin," she turned and walked away.
I just wanted her to once say something to me, to give me some
concrete fact, to tell me what she felt. Even if she didn't love me.
Especially if she didn't love me.
"I had a boyfriend when I went to collage in Dundalk," she spoke so
low it was almost a whisper. "I went out with him for over two years
and during that time I had other boyfriends as well."
I thought, is she trying to tell me that she wants some sort of open
relationship? If so why didn't she just tell me? And what has it got
to do with having sex with me?
"I mean," she continued. "I went to France on holiday and came back
with a French boyfriend. He even stayed with me for a bit. And this
other guy knew about him and didn't mind."
I shrugged, "Did you have sex with him?"
"Oh ! Kevin !" she stomped her foot and glared at me.
"I'm sorry," I held up my hands. "It's none of my business."
We didn't speak for another few moments. Then I said, "I just don't
understand why you'd let me make love to you and yet wouldn't make
love back to me." I took a step towards her, "I mean, if you like me
enough to let make love to you why don't you want to make love back to
me?"
"I told you ..." she stopped herself and looked down. "I mean its ..."
She dropped her hands to her sides. "You don't understand," she shook
her head."
I nearly cried with frustration. "Of course I don't understand ! I've
never understood. That's what this whole conversation is about. If I
understood I wouldn't be asking you to explain it to me !" I brought
my hands up and clenched my fists, "Just this once will you explain it
to me. Just this once let me understand."
I looked at her, but she was looking at the floor. We were both silent
again. Finally I tried one last time.
"I fell in love with you," I spoke softly. "And I wanted to share my
life with you. I desired you. I never made any secret that I loved
having sex with you. Or that I thought that having sex with you would
bring us closer together. That I thought if I gave enough to you that
one day you'd turn around and love me back. That you'd want to share
your life with me."
I looked down. She said nothing. "I guess I was wrong," I shrugged.
"I'm older than you," she whispered into the silence. "Not by much.
But I'm older than you. Does that make a difference?"
I wanted to say, "What the fuck has that got to do with anything?",
but there were so many thoughts swimming around inside my head that I
couldn't say anything.
The silence stretched on. I didn't know what to say. I'd told her how
I felt and she'd just seemed to have dismissed it out of hand. She
just wouldn't accept that I felt the way I did. And I couldn't see any
way of getting through to her. Any way of making her believe me. I'd
have thought that all the shit I'd been through over the last few
months would have been proof enough, that's the only reason I'd put up
with it, but no. Even that hadn't convince her.
Finally I said, "I guess I'd better go now."
"O.K.," she walked towards me, but stopped just short of touching me.
Suddenly I wanted her again. I wanted to make love to her so badly. I
wanted to feel her and taste her, to lose myself in the sensual
pleasure of everything we'd ever done together.
"Lets make love one last time," I stepped closer to her.
"No," she shook her head and looked down.
I put my arms around her, hugged her and she hugged me back. I pulled
back to slip my hands inside her robe and she pushed me further away.
"Come on," I whispered, my voice going horse. I really, really wanted
to make love to her properly to make up for not making her come
earlier.
"No," she repeated.
So I stepped away, feeling defeated, and walked to the door. She
followed me. I unlocked and opened the door to her flat and stepped
outside. She took hold of the door to close it after me.
"So this is goodbye, then," I stood awkwardly for a moment.
She said, "Yes."
Then I stepped closer and put my arms around her neck. We kissed
briefly. As she ended the kiss, I slipped my hand inside her robe and
gave her breast one last squeeze, before stepping away once more. I
turned away from her and walked up the stairs. I heard her closing and
locking her door behind me.
As I walked up and out I felt such an overwhelming sense of relieve.
Literally as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
There was a bounce in my step that I'd not noticed for quite a while.
Just like the first night I'd walked home from Alexandra's place. And
this time I didn't notice the distance either. I felt as if I was
walking on air because of the believe that finally I'd resolved all
the problems that I'd been having with Alexandra. All the doubts and
uncertainties and worries would be over. All the lose ends that I
couldn't tidy up had been severed once and for all. I knew all my
troubles with her were at an end.
How wrong can you be?

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

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