The Architect Read online

  The smell of his musky aftershave and the bouncing motion he’s controlling send me into a state of wooziness. With every thrust of his hips my clit touches his wet stomach and my orgasm grows. Three more knocks and I’m there. I let out a low moan as my pussy clamps down on him, and my clit pulses. He reacts to the warm liquid surrounding his cock and begins to quicken his actions in desperation.

  In the distance I see people walking towards us. Eager for him to climax before they reach us, I run my tongue around the inside of his ear and whisper, “Come for me.”

  Within several more jerks of his hips, his cock twitches inside me and he moans quietly with pleasure against my neck.

  He gently lets me down, and we stand and hold each other for what seems like seconds, but must be longer, as the group have disappeared and the rain has stopped.

  “Fuck.” He almost laughs as he steps away and pulls the condom off before tying it at the end and putting it in his pocket.

  Tugging my dress down, I gesture to his pocket. “A little keepsake?”

  “I hope I won’t need one.” He grins as he starts to do his buttons up. “Will you see me again?”

  My mouth committing to the words before my brain, I smile. “Hell yes, if you’re going to do that again.”

  He gives an almost childlike smile. “Can I have your number then, so we can arrange for me to do this to you... Again?”

  I’ve already snogged his face off and shagged his brains out again in my mind before I hand him a torn piece of paper with my mobile number on it. He takes a quick glance at my digits, folds the paper in half and tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Thank you. Now then, shall I get you home?” he inquires as he holds out his hand.

  I reply with a nod as I take his hand, and we head back out onto the humming city streets, giving each other the occasional smile and glance of approval.

  On our stroll to the hotel I realise how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed London, and having someone to enjoy it with. I love London. I love knowing that no matter what time or what day it is, there is always someone around. There’s always a taxi cutting up cars just to get to their fare, or groups of people sightseeing. You can bet your bottom dollar that there will be a bar or restaurant open. And they give New York the title of ‘The City That Never Sleeps’.

  As we arrive at Heath’s hotel, he pulls his keys from his pocket and opens the passenger door of his raindrop-covered Audi. I slip easily onto the leather seat and take note of his expensive-looking dashboard with silver trim.

  Sliding into the seat beside me, he starts the engine and looks at me, and I swear he’s going to do the car rev and the growl like Hugh Grant does in Bridget Jones’ Diary, but he doesn’t. To be honest, I’m a little disappointed.

  Pulling the black and silver gear stick into reverse, he smiles at me. “So which way am I heading?”

  “Out of the car park and turn left.”

  He nods, and I direct him to my street.

  As we pull onto my road, I ask him to drop me on the corner.

  A puzzled frown crosses his forehead as he glances around. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I convince him, not wanting him to know my exact address.

  Slowing the car to a stop, he leans over and kisses me. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Smiling at his words and hoping that he means them, I return his kiss. Then I get out of the car and walk away, fearing that I might regret this tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  Opening my eyes to the new day ahead, and trying not to think about my raw throat, I stumble to the en-suite with my hand on my head. Once there, I splash my face with cold water, as is my morning ritual. Pictures of last night flash through my mind. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe that I, Ruth Caitlin Watson, had a shag in an alleyway in the middle of London, with a man named Heath. Heath, of all names.

  Patting my face dry before wrapping my black silk dressing gown around me, I head downstairs and make for the kettle. A black coffee and two sugars just might do the trick, I tell myself, while scooping the chestnut-coloured grains into my extra large mug.

  Waiting for the water to boil as I lean against the side, I recall Heath’s promise from last night, and locate my phone, only to be greeted by a blank screen. A disheartened empty feeling washes over me, and I convince myself that he’s probably still in bed as I place my phone back on the coffee table and take tiny steps back to the kitchen, pretending to be a geisha.

  With hangover cure in hand, I proceed with my mission to wake myself up, and head back to the en-suite for a cool shower.

  Adjusting the temperature and stepping under the falling water, goose bumps return to my skin as they did last night. The draft from the window is chilling, yet it makes me smile as I think back to Heath and his beckoning breeze as he walked behind me last night. Reaching for my sponge and soap, I cleanse where he once was, continuing to daydream about him. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. What he’s wearing today, and what he smells like. Does he smell the same as he did last night? Will he call?

  By eight o’clock I’m dried, and dressed for work. Awake, respectable, and poised. Mission accomplished.

  Opening my current book and sitting at my ‘desert island’ in the middle of the kitchen, I continue from where I left off. I call it my desert island because it has all my desert island needs. It has books and CDs piled on it, magazines scattered around the surface, and half a bar of chocolate always hidden amongst the chaos.

  Getting lost in my book as it takes me on an adventure into the Australian outback, I realise that a sound has broken my concentration. My phone. Leaping up and running for my mobile, I knock my little toe on the edge of the coffee table and dive for the sofa, yowling in pain as I retrieve my phone. An anonymous text. Rubbing my toe better, I open it.

  How are we this morning? H x

  My heart thumps in excitement as I write my response. I’m great, thank you. How are you? X

  But just as I’m about to press send, I have a thought that I might come across as a little desperate if I reply straight away, so I decide to finish the rest of my chapter. After saving his number, of course.

  After retrieving my things for work, I finally press the send button. By the time I’ve unlocked my car and settled behind the wheel, I have a reply.

  Oh, I’m very well, thank you. Are you free tonight? H x

  Tonight? I am free tonight, and I don’t have to work tomorrow, so what’s the harm?

  I reply, telling him I’m free, and asking what he has in mind. Then I start the engine of my silver Ford KA and head to work with a ridiculous smile on my face.

  As I turn the corner onto the high street, I see my phone light up on the passenger seat. Still smiling to myself, and wondering what he might have in mind, I resist the hankering to pull over and read until I am parked up safely. Driving into the surgery car park and parking up in a ‘staff only’ spot, I grab my phone in excitement.

  I thought we could have dinner here at my hotel and then go up to my room for some more of what you got last night ;) H x

  My smile soon becomes a frown. Cheeky bastard! Furious at the thought of a man thinking I’m that easy that a meal will get me into bed, I soon realise why he would think such a thing. I was a bit of a tart last night. I mean, what kind of girl has sex with a man she’s just met? I’m sure there are lots of names for her, and now I guess I’m one. But it was totally out of the blue for me, I’ve never done anything like that before in my life. I’m just boring old Ruth, who works a nine to five and walks around the house pretending to be a geisha, for god’s sake.

  As a complicated woman with a bee now buzzing loudly in her bonnet, I reply to his text with no kiss, in hope that he gets the gist that I’m annoyed. And what makes you think I want some of what I got last night? />
  I wait for a reply.

  I thought the whole reason for you giving me your number was so I could do what I did last night, again? ;) H x

  Shit! Memories come flooding back. Now what do I say to that? I did say that. I did say I wanted him to do it again, and what’s the harm now anyway? We’ve already done the dirty, and at least he’s not just asking for sex. He’s also attempting to woo me with dinner.

  I try to make up for my snotty text. You’re right, I did say that. I’m a bad girl, aren’t I? Well, if you’re offering a dinner on top of what you gave me last night, then I should count myself as a lucky girl, shouldn’t I? X

  Waiting in my car, with legs shaking in anticipation, and for fear of being late for work, I hang on for a reply.

  Mmm, yes, you are a bad girl, aren’t you? And I should be the one counting myself as lucky ;) H x

  A playful smile shapes my lips. I drop my mobile into my bag and head for the surgery door, before my co-worker Liz collars me and drags me in.

  Greeting Liz as I hurry behind the desk to boot up my computer ready for the day, I grin to myself.

  “Good night, was it?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  I blush a tad, and pretend to be busy with paperwork on my desk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t give me that. I know that look.” She raises her eyebrow again. “That’s the look of a woman who’s had a good old seeing to.”

  Feeling my face burn, I give her the same response as I did before, and carry on trying to look busy. She gives in.

  “Well, I had a fab night, thanks for asking.”

  I deliberately try to avoid asking her how her night’s been these days, for fear of mental scarring from every sordid detail she inflicts on me.

  Not wanting to be rude, I ask how it went, and she goes on to tell me about her filthy night of sex, and what position they tried on what piece of furniture, while I try not to imagine or picture anything she’s telling me. Listening to her go on for what seems like forever, I nod occasionally and act as though I’m listening, until I cut her off and tell her she will have to wait to tell me the rest, as I have to open up for patients now.

  She tuts. “You’re such a spoilsport, Ruthie.”

  “What have I told you about calling me that?” I holler to her as I unlock the doors.

  “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

  Sitting back at my computer, I feel my phone vibrate in my bag against my foot. Desperate to check it, I wait until the reception area has calmed down from the morning rush, and sneak off to the Ladies’.

  Safely locked away in the cubicle, I tap on the text.

  So, you bad girl, is 7pm good for dinner? H x

  My cheeks rise as I grin and I have a quick rundown in my head of what needs to be done.

  Shopping (food and lingerie),

  Bath,

  Wax lady area,

  Find something to wear.

  Coming to the conclusion that I will have plenty of time to show up looking as fabulous as I can, and not at all under pressure, I reply to his request. Yes, 7 will be perfect. Where shall I meet you? X

  Within seconds my phone buzzes. I’ll meet you in the foyer. H x

  I send an Emoji smile back, then resume my position as the kinder face behind reception, until one o’clock finally arrives.

  Leaving the building and Liz behind, I check my phone. But there’s nothing. Deflating into my car, I search for a pick-me-up CD. Finding my good old reliable The Very Best of Dolly Parton, I stick it in the CD player and skip to my favourite song. Number nine, Baby I’m Burnin’. Making my way to town and singing along with Dolly, I head for a shop where they sell both food and lingerie to save me some time.

  Deciding to do my grocery shopping first, just in case I offend anyone by giving my knickers a little trolley ride around the food section, I navigate my way down the aisles and around the imbeciles as well as their abandoned trolleys, and select my items as I contemplate what to wear tonight. A dress? A skirt? Trouser suit? I think I’ll play it safe and go for a pencil skirt and blouse, as it’s quite a posh hotel. And since I’ve been told I have great pins, I will go au naturel and skip the sexy stockings.

  Having decided on my outfit, I head for the dairy section and smile as I hear my mobile humming in my bag. Tugging it out, along with half of my handbag’s contents, I see H flashing on the screen. Oh my god! He’s ringing me! I act out the game of hot potato as I try to find someone to pass the hot Heath to, but there’s no one. Like the potato had just exploded in my face, my cheeks heat as I answer, “Hello.”

  “Mmm, hello there, Ruth,” he replies, so confident and male.

  The area between my legs tingles. “And what can I do for you?” I question playfully.

  “Well, to be honest, I just wanted to know if your voice was as sexy over the phone as it was last night down that alleyway.”

  The potato just exploded again, and I feel my face glow as I envisage everyone overhearing our conversation and tutting at me for being such a minx.

  “Shush, you bad man. I’m in the middle of a shop.”

  “Oh really? What shop?”

  “It doesn’t matter what shop, but it’s quite a respectable one, so save that talk for later.”

  He laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll save it for later.”

  I smile. “Well, will that be all you wanted to know, Mr...” I pause. “What’s your surname, Heath?” I wait with strained ear in case I miss it.

  Testosterone fills his voice as he growls, “I’ll tell you later, if you’re a good girl.”

  God, I just want to shag his brains out for being such a devil. I grin again, and catch a lady looking at me, smiling with almost puppy dog eyes. I return her gesture and push my trolley along with one hand and one elbow, as unbeknown to me I have casually rested myself on the handle and stuck my bottom out. “Well, I look forward to hearing you, and your name, later.”

  “And I look forward to hearing you say my name later,” he teases.

  “Until tonight, then.”

  “Until tonight, you bad girl.”

  “Oh, one more thing before you go.”

  “Yes?”

  “Is my voice as sexy as last night?” I question, as sensually as I can standing in the middle of a shop without anyone thinking I’m running a chat line.

  “Hell, yes.”

  I smile as I hear the call end, and notice that my knickers have become a little damp. What a bad girl you really are, Ruth Watson. I give myself a little telling off for being so horny over a phone call as I glide around the shop wondering about Heath, and who he really is.

  After paying for my shopping and putting the bags in the car boot I head back into the shop and search for some sexy underwear. I head for my usual colour - black - and see what’s on offer. A cute little lace number catches my eye. The bra is a balconette, which is great for cleavage, and the bottom half is a thong. I take the set in my size, and in the same style I purchase a different colour, this time a lovely shade of dark green. Then, after paying and thanking the lady behind the counter, I head back to the car to get my butt home and ready for my night of Heath.

  Chapter Four

  Back at my humble abode with shopping now tidily packed away, I note that the time is 3:27, and I’m pleased I have sufficient time to tick off all of my to-do list.

  After nibbling at my snack of cheese and crackers, I make myself a café noir with one sugar this time, and hike up the stairs with it, grabbing my new lingerie on the way.

  Snipping off the labels, I lay the new underwear on my bed before dawdling to the bathroom to run myself a bath. Splashing a nice blob of lavender bubble bath at the tap end, I then roll the blind down until it kisses the window sill. I light four of my beeswax candles, then rummage through the
bottles and tubes on the side to find my wax. Not being able to find it, I opt for my six-month-old hair removal cream, and hope it still does the trick. It does, and I de-hair my legs and other vital parts, before rinsing the cream off in my en-suite shower, and returning to the bathroom.

  Relaxing down into the steaming water and hissing bubbles, my mind takes me back to Heath. I wonder what he’s doing right now.

  Lying in the dancing candlelight, my body protected in a layer of water and bubbles, I imagine him striding around in his suit, looking all important and sexy as he pulls a cigarette from his packet with his lips like he did last night. I soon find myself getting carried away, and I’m back down the alleyway replaying our shag in my head, but this time I’m watching from the shadows. As my memory starts to improve, I feel my clit start to ache. Kneading it gently with my palm to soothe the throbbing, I then reach out for my exfoliator and lather it up with shower gel before giving my entire body a good scrubbing.

  Submerging my head under the water and washing the soap from my body, I let my imagination run wild. The pictures in my head of Heath and of last night send my hand back down to my clit. Surfacing, I rest my head on the edge of the bathtub, shove my sodden hair back from my face and continue to masturbate.

  Flicking and rubbing at myself firmly, I watch the replay in my mind and imagine that I am back there. Pushing my breasts up from underneath the water, I tweak and tug on my left nipple, teasing it to stiffness. I see Heath in my mind’s eye, licking, flicking, and moistening it with his tongue, getting ready to bite it lightly. I feel him at my nipple as I tug, and at my clit as I rub. The scene playing in my head only sends me closer to the edge, until finally my legs stiffen, and that rush of pleasure washes over me. I think of a million and one things as I climax, but can’t remember a single one as I come back down from the high, feeling relaxed, satisfied, and terribly naughty.