The Gypsy Fortune Teller

Her face could tell many a tale, its creases betray her years. No one seems to know exactly how old she is, I’m guessing no one would ask, out of respect & fear. I know she has worked from this flat for over 50 years, my grandmother first visited her in 1965. She told me the flat was odd then, filled with stuff. When I asked what she meant, she just said stuff, you’ll see.

So now I sit here looking around she was right, it's filled with stuff. Near the window a table that's covered with a thick red velvet cloth, a plant pot containing a withered wilted poinsetta, that looks like it's been dead for years, next to it an old dusty radio, its dials worn away through use.

Shanti Dell ‘Orto enters the room her frail hands clutching the old gold coloured tray, on it the bone china teapot and matching cups, that like their owner have seen better days. The room fills with the heavy smell of lavender soap, it's so strong my head starts to swim a little.

I run my eyes over her pale skin. Despite her age worn face, she looks attractive yet she wears no makeup, needs none. Around her head a purple silk scarf from which her oddly reddish brown shiny hair escapes, little tufts making her look almost child like. I wonder if maybe that was her one little luxury, a little treat from a bottle. A small widow’s peak dipping down towards her nose, giving her weatherbeaten face an almost heart shape. She wears a dress that is hard to describe, a dark velvety material, the colour difficult to pinpoint, it seems to be between a purple and a red, but changes as she moves. Almost floor length, but this could be just down to her size, she is such a petite lady, that is clear as she perches in the manly size carver chair.

Around her neck a small silver antique locket, Its delicate engraving impossible to make out at the this distance, but after a look at her left hand I wonder if it was a gift from a lost love. She must have seen me looking as her she takes the locket between her boney finger and thumb, raising it to her thin lips and kissing it.

She smiles and as she does her deep brown eyes twinkle, she passes me the cup of tea.

“Now my dear child, shall we read the cards?” Her voice smooth, sugary even, yet powerful in its own way. She produces a small wooden box, her long skinny fingers that make me wonder how she supports the gold rings on each of them, as she removes a set of tarot cards. Expertly her fingers work quickly dealing cards on the threadbare table cloth, which like its owner looks like it has not seen the light of day in many years. As the reading goes on I continue to study my host, picking up her tea she blows across its surface before she sips it gently. Not gently enough as she starts to cough, her hands rise to her throat “My medicine” she manages to splutter pointing to a small bottle on the sideboard, I jump up to grab it for her. As I stretch out my hands I catch a jar or pencils, sending them flying across the room. I pass her the brown bottle, opening it she gulps it straight from the bottle. I watch as a trickle of the burgundy coloured liquid snakes down the wrinkled chin, like little streams.

Where the medicine had stood a black & white photograph is now visible, leaning in closer I can clearly see it's my host, she is younger so much younger. She is dressed in floral dress of 1930’s style, in her arms a baby swaddled in a shawl, a man in uniform stands by her side, his thick beard hiding much of his face, long handlebar moustache stretching out way past his ears. In the picture I can just make out the same locket that she does today. I do the maths in my head, she must almost 100 if she is a day.

She takes my hand in hers turning it over, her grip is firm, but yet fingers still feel delicate. Her skin is rough through hard work, tough little callouses scratched my soft hand. I could pull my hand away, but feel at ease with her as she traces a long fingernail along my hand. Her fingers like twigs, gnarled and her knuckles like woody knots.

“You have a sad heart my dear, but not for long” her finger ran across my hand “See your heart line is good and strong, and like me just one line of marriage” She smiled her face creased “You mark my words my girl you will soon find love, a love as strong as your mother found in 1966, after your grandmothers visit” My jaw dropped how did she know, I had not told her.

“I knew the moment I saw you, I know that you have it too, the gift, that's why you are here” I was confused was this old lady losing it, maybe I shouldn’t have come.

“I know you don’t understand it yet, but your dreams are vivid, believable, you get Dejavu afterwards, am I right?” I nodded how could she know. The corners of her eyes creased as a wide smile spread across her face. She seemed younger now, a glow in her cheeks  “You will find love my dear the dark haired man in uniform you dream of so often, you will meet him soon, very soon.” She passed me the photo, “look carefully what do you see?”

“You, your husband and baby” I said, as I ran my fingers through the dust on the photos glass “Your baby a little boy, called James” I shook my head how did I know that, I looked at her for reassurance, she had thrown her head back and was laughing “Am I right, how did I know?” rummaging in her pocket and pulled out a business card James Dell ‘Orto Theatre Design Consultant.

Sipping my tea I glanced at my watch, I had been here an hour and half already.

“I’m so sorry I must go” I said standing up “Thank you for the tea, and the reading” She smiled.

“I’ll see you soon” She said. I nodded, yes I would come back and see her one day, poor thing must be lonely, and I have so many questions for her.

I dash out of the flat, down the stairs to the street. Thwack, straight into the arms of ….

Shanti watches from the window smiling, as I stood in the arms of the army officer with whom I had collided.

“I’ll see you tomorrow my dear” She said out loud though no one heard her “I am sure you will have much to tell me.”

He's On TV

He’s on TV

Something from the news this week that grabbed my attention was seeing Professor Sharrock on Breakfast Television. To say my heart lept is to put it mildly, but not in the way you might think.

I first meet professor Sharrock about 2 years ago, when I was sent to Sheffield Hallamshire to see him due to some odd eyesight issues that Barnsley hospital couldn’t answer.

Having had my first appointment cancelled with him at very short notice I was given another appointment for seven o'clock one evening. As so often happens with the NHS his clinic was running late, so late in fact that the receptionist and the clinic nurse both went home while I was still sitting in the waiting room. It was one of the few times I have felt very alone, and briefly a little scarred. I had no real idea why I had been sent to see Professor Sharrock, other than Barnsley had no answers. However sat looking around the waiting room, I began to get an idea as all the posters and leaflets related to MS. I put it to the back of my mind, decided that it must be for another clinic that ran from the same location, after all I was here for my eyes.

Eventually at around half past eight I was finally called in to see Professor Sharrock, my husband had arrived by now and this may have been a mistake. Professor Sharrock ignored me and asked my husband all sorts of questions, which of course he couldn’t answer. He then sent me away telling me I would be called for tests.

Months later I was pestering my GP to find out what had happened to my tests, and she once again phoned Professor Sharrocks secretary. She got through to his new one, I found out later they never last long working for him. It seemed my paperwork like many others had got lost, or at least misplaced.

I was soon attending Sheffield again for a whole range of tests that involved electronic receivers to various parts of my head, and in my eyes, then watching patterns on computer screens. All whiles sat in a dark room for over an hour.

Still no one had told me what they were testing for, and it was only after a student doctor let slip that I did not have a brain tumour and that my tests were inconclusive.  That I managed to get him to admit that it was indeed MS that they were testing for. Was it a shock, no not really, well not for me. I had worked out a long time before what they were testing for. I have lots of symptoms, and know that the diagnosis may well come in the future. Am I scared, no not anymore, will it slow me down, no not if I can help it. When I asked the student why no one had said anything before, he told me Professor Sharrock doesn’t like to worry patients with scary names of medical conditions. He then went on to ask me not to tell the professor that he had blabbed.

I have seen Professor Sharrock several times since, but he has always been very rude to me. Maybe it’s because I ask questions he can not answer, maybe I don’t allow him to treat me a a little woman, I don’t know. I know other patients who think he is wonderful, but also others that have refused to see him again. I have seen other Neurologists, but have no answers. Professors Sharrocks comment beats all others “oh you must have always had those problems and just not realised”, is that really an answer you would expect from a professor. I certainly didn’t.

I watched his research with interest, well you never know, it’s always good to be informed. I watched the young man, bed bound a few months ago, now riding a bike, so clearly it works. Rebooting the immune system with chemo and stem cells, almost a miracle one said. I can see that maybe there is another side to the Professor.

So seeing Professor Sharrock, made my heart leap, because I remembered that secret that's always there, always at the back of my mind, but buried deep. It's not him so much as what I associate him with. I suppose I should be grateful to Professor Sharrock, but I still have no answers. Without answers it’s the only way to cope, bury it deep, don’t think about it, hope I never will have too.

The Meeting

The meeting

It was awkward, you know how it is when you know each other but not well. The meeting had been arranged to discuss business, but Sarah couldn't shake off that feeling that there was some sort of hidden agenda. She had tried, but there was something she couldn’t put her finger on. I suppose being asked to meet him in a Premier Inn hadn’t helped, I mean who has a meeting with two people in a Premier Inn in the evening.

So here she was stood awkwardly in the foyer, wishing desperately that she had worn something more demure. Did her bright red nails make her look like a working girl, oh god she should have dumped the gym bag made her look like she had some extra kit. She had seen the way the receptionist had looked her up and down when she asked for him at the desk. She knew exactly what Janine the receptionist was thinking, she would have thought the same in the circumstances.

The lift pinged, Sarah, resisted the urge to turn and look, not trusting herself to do the right thing. What was the right thing, should she smile enthusiastically, give a little shy naive even girly smile or keep a stern business look.  She checked herself in the mirror, well that was the excuse, she was actually checking who was leaving the lift. He was there, was that excitement, why was she excited. She was supposed to be cross with this man, he was the cause of all the distress she had been through, well not the cause, but she blamed him in part. That's why he had suggested this meeting so they could sort out the problems, make plans for her within the organisation. This was important, and she knew it.

“Sarah” The voice from behind her half stated, and half asked, She deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth, that's what she had learned in yoga. Come on girl turn round, come on. She told herself, before taking another yoga breath. “Sarah,” he said again a little louder. She turned, a smile on her face. Her knees went weak, only a little, but weak none the less. She stuck out her hand, which he took firmly first with one hand then covering it quickly with his other hand. He held it for too long, just a little too long. She didn’t mind, in fact, no she actually liked it. She felt briefly that he might pull her in for a hug, she almost hoped he did. She was equally relieved when he didn’t.

She lifted her gaze slightly allowing him to look her in the eye for the first time. She felt a jolt run through her, that was a mistake, she hastily looked down again.

“Sir” she replied to him at last, he smiled

“Christopher, please” She shifted awkwardly, it wasn’t right her calling him Christopher, it should be sir. She could feel a slight blush rising on her neck and in her cheeks. Was he mocking her, she was sure he was studying her. “Shall we get a drink, have a chat?” he asked stepping towards her. She nodded, biting her lip slightly. He moved towards her placing a hand behind her, though not actually touching her to guide her towards the bar.

She allowed him to open the door for her, and guide her to a secluded table. She glanced around, took in her location as she always did when somewhere new.

“What can I get you?” the sound of his voice brought her back to reality again.

“lemonade please” he smiled and left her to her thoughts. What the hell am I doing he must think I'm a complete idiot why can't I talk, I  can barely string two words together. She watched him as he stood at the bar she had never noticed before, but for a man of his age, he looked pretty good.  He obviously stayed fit, no gym or running but active like her. He glanced over his shoulder caught her eye and smiled. Oh god, he'll know I was watching him now what will he think. She looks down pretending to be looking for something in her bag.

“one lemonade,” he said as he placed the tall glass in front of her before taking his seat opposite. “so how are you?”

“not bad been busy writing, dancing.  I like to be busy. What about you, good Christmas?”

“great busy as always, yours?” he studied her face she could feel him looking. The blush in her cheeks rose again. She should be angry with him, she was mad at him, she was angry was everyone still.

“Not bad wasn't really able to get into the Christmas spirit.”

“I can imagine” he smiled kindly patting her hand. A jolt shot up her arm and into her loins, no anger you supposed to be angry with him not lusting after him. That's it you fancy him, damn. “we'll have it all back to normal again soon, and you have that big project to work on so we need to get you back in place.  You understand why I had to take the action I did don't you?”

“ Not really but there you go.”

“Sarah it wasn't something I wanted to do” She shook her head

“Forget it,  it's done over” the anger was back she was actually relieved.  She glanced across at him he was searching his pockets frantically.

“Bugger. Sorry excuse my French.” he looked rather flustered “sorry Sarah I've left all the  paperwork in my room are you okay to come with me when we have finished our drinks?” She nodded, what choice did she have.

#

Sarah could feel the receptionist watching as the waited for the lift, knew what she was thinking. It must have looked bad young woman meets an older man in a hotel foyer, one drunk in the bar before up to his room. Sarah turned to the receptionist gave her a huge smile and patted her back pocket. Ping the lift doors slide open.

#

Christopher opened the door and held it open for Sarah to enter first, always a gentleman. She walked in and stood awkwardly by the window. Her in started to drift as Christopher rummaged in his briefcase. Sarah half watched him.

The file slipped onto the floor, Sarah bent to pick it up as did Christopher. Their hands meeting, both looked up. There it is again, that jolt when he touches her, Sarah’s heart quickened. They stood up slowly together, holding each other’s gaze.

What happened next took them by surprise and details are sketchy for both. Sarah could not be sure how she ended up in his arms their faces so close their eyes locked. That was seconds before she felt his lips tasted him as he kissed her. Their bodies pressed hard together, she could feel him breathing, while she struggles to breathe he was holding her so tight.

“Oh Sarah, I don’t know what happened. Sorry” he said releasing his grip on her, she fell back slightly. Why did she feel like this? She should want to slap him, but she didn’t she felt a longing for him to hold her again. Looking back at him she smiled, she reached up and gently touched his cheek. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get a chance. It was the only indication he needed, “Oh Sarah” he muttered as his lips met hers again, his hand at the back of her neck supporting her legs. His other hand in the small of her back holding him to her, which was just as well as she wasn’t sure she could stand now. All the anger and frustration disappeared, turning into desire she wanted him. His lips left her mouth moving down to her jaw and onto her neck, she tipped her head back allowing him full access to her long pale neck. His hand was cupping her buttock now, gently caressing it, pulling her onto his leg that had slipped between hers. She let out a groan of pleasure, it stopped him in his tracks, he looked up at her.

Sarah wasn’t sure if it was an accident or planned, but he fell back onto the bed, pulling her with him so that they landed with her legs straddling him. He laughed

“Well this is convenient isn’t it?” He said, raising an eyebrow.  Sarah sat upright, their groins level, she could feel his cock hard beneath her. Her pussy moistened in response, betraying her feeling for him. His hand moved to her hips, maybe he was scared she was going to more away, he held her firmly in place. “Sarah….”. She put her finger to his lips and smiled. He licked his lips, and her finger of course. She giggled every inch of skin alive now, ultra sensitive, she wiggled slightly on him. He let out a small groan, closing his eyes. His hands moved up, his fingers tentatively brushing her breasts. Sarah looked down and smiled. Taking his wrists, she placed his hands firmly on her breasts.

“There you go” Christopher opened his eyes, and looked at her fully. She looked down at him, before bending forward and kissing him. He fumbled with her clothes trying desperately to find a way in, to get to her flesh. He wanted to touch her, caress her.

“Okay, I give up, how do I get in?” He said looking frustrated, Sarah giggled “Assuming I’m allowed, and you want me too.”

“Yes, I want you to” Sarah went to get up, he took her wrist.

“Where are you going?” He whispered. Sarah smiled, pulling her wrist free.

“Nowhere, but I need to lose some layers” Standing at the end of the bed Sarah undid her cardigan and let it fall to the floor. Christopher rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one arm to watch her. The oversized t-shirt was next, followed by a vest top. He laughed

“How many layers have you go on?”

“Almost there,” Sarah said slipping her arms out of a garment he could only assume was a leotard. She had already kicked her trainers off, so it was not hard for her to slip her thumbs into the yoga pants and drop them, step out. Sarah blushed aware that this was probably the least sexy striptease ever. She started to roll her leotard down.

“Stop!” commanded Christopher, sitting up and sliding off the bed. “I want to look at you” Sarah blushed deeply. He was next to her now. He kissed her neck moving on to her shoulder, his fingers ran down the side of her chest, gently brushing her breast through her sports bra. I wish I had known this was going to happen, I’d have worn nicer or at least matching underwear. Thought Sarah. His hand inside her leotard now, his lips moving up her neck, before back onto her mouth. They kissed passionately, Christopher pushing her back against the desk.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked suddenly. Sarah grabbed his head, she smiled, her cheeks flushed.

“I’m stood here semi-undressed, your hand down my leotard, and you ask me if I’m sure?” Sarah chuckled “I suppose you want me to beg.”

His eyes lit up, a wicked smile spreading across his face, oh god what had she suggested, she had apparently hit the spot with that suggestion. He nodded, licking his lips.

“Okay, please will you kiss me. Sir” Sarah said lowering her eyes, Christopher gulped, his trousers now stretched tightly over his cock. Sarah reached out, but something stopped her. No, not yet. She told herself. Christopher lifted her chin, his eyes wild with desire as he kissed her hard. His tongue probing hard into her mouth.

“God, I want you Sarah” He muttered between kisses, his hands now firmly in her leotard working it down over her hips. Sarah wiggled a little to allow the leotard to fall. Christopher pulled away. Bloody hell how many more layers to I have to compete with. Sarah turned her head to one side and shrugged a little.  He had just got to her tights.

“Sorry, here allow me” Expertly she slipped her fingers into the tight stretchy waistband, manoeuvring them down., using her feet to push them right off. Christopher moved back a little to admire the spectacle before him. He let out a sigh. Sarah’s hands moved to cover her belly, but Christopher stopped her as if he had read her mind.

“Don’t, you look so beautiful.” He said, his voice growing hoarse now. She doubted him, acutely aware that she was dressed in sports underwear, big knickers and tight elastic bra. His hands moved up her back, he fiddled with the bra’s clasp. It popped open easily, though of course being a sports bra it didn’t open fully. He leant over her shoulder, to see what was going wrong with her bra.

“It needs to go over my head” She whispered, in his ear. He kissed her neck in response, his fingers slipping into her bra lifting it. She raised her arms and allowed him to pull it over her head. “I feel a little underdressed now,” Said Sarah stood only in a pair of knickers, Christopher still fully clothed was looking rather hot and bothered. Sarah looked him square in the eye, she reached up, tugging at his tie. She soon removed his tie and started on the shirt buttons. He stumbled back a bit resting on the end of the bed, Sarah stood between them, slowly working down the buttons. As she reached the bottom of his shirt, Christopher laid back on the bed. Sarah dropped to her knees, quickly undoing his trousers. He gasped, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop her. Within seconds Sarah had pulled his trousers down and released his erect cock. It wasn’t free for long as she slid her mouth down over it, taking it entirely.

“Fucking hell” He shouted, sitting up, grabbing her head. She carried on up and down twisting slightly as she did, Christopher’s breathing quickened. She felt his cock thicken as she worked him. A wicked look in her eyes as she gently stroked his balls, teasing them with her painted nails. His cock leapt in response, almost causing her to gag. “Stop please stop” he begged, pulling her head away. Sarah looked him in the eye, before wiping her hand across her mouth. He looked down at her between his legs, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed heavily. They both watched each other for a few seconds before he took her hand.

“Stand up” she did as he asked, self-conscious now stood only in her pants. He stood up too, removing his clothes thoroughly. Before lifting her onto the bed, and removing her knickers. She laid back naked, her legs bent and spread slightly. Just enough for him to see her moist pussy glistening. He took a deep breath, before leaning forward and kissing the inside of her thigh, simple slow kisses to start, but as he moved closer to his goal, his kisses grew faster, harder. He licked, he sucked she wriggled beneath him. He was close now, she could almost feel his breath on her clit now. She tilted her pelvis towards him, desperate to feel him. She reached down, stroking his head. She wanted to pull him closer, forcing his tongue into her. Her belly tightened at the thought, her pussy growing wetter. She lay back closing her eyes, groaning. His hands slide under her arse, he pulled her towards his face, his tongue brushing her clit, teasing it. She groaned again, but then he stopped, pulling back.

“Open up for me, I want to see you bright red nails against your pale flesh” She hesitated, her head struggling to work out what was happening. She looked at him “Please” he begged now. Moving her hand over her belly, she slowly moved them down. She slipped her fingers between her lips, craftily she brushed her clit. She let out a quiet groan, he watched her closely. Carefully she parted her lips, stretching her pussy open for him as if inviting him. He didn’t need a second invite, he buried his face in her crotch, a finger inside her along with his tongue. His nose relentlessly bashing against her clit, Sarah tried to stay still, but she couldn’t help squirming and writhing beneath him. He slipped a second finger in, stretching her, teasing her. That was it she couldn’t contain it any longer, her pussy tightened, convulsing as she orgasmed. He head pushed back, crying out as she did. Her eyes rolling in her head, her chest and neck flushing. He lifted his head slightly watching her body respond to him, he smiled. Kissing her thighs again, she squirmed.

“Take me, please” she whispered, her voice weak. He moved up between her legs, kissing her breasts. Hr paused, his chest against her belly.

“Sarah, not wanting to kill the mood, but do I need to use a condom?” he frowned looking up at her face. Sarah thought for a moment, she knew what she needed to say. She nodded, dropping her head back onto the bed.

“Yes, sorry” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Next question, don’t suppose you have any?”  

“Nope.”

Christopher rolled onto his back next to her, she sat up running her fingers over his chest. She felt empty now. Was it over, was that it. Surely not, not like this. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, Oh God don’t cry, Sarah.

Christopher rolled off the bed, he picked up the phone. Sarah turned onto her belly and watched him.

“Hi, odd request for room service,” he said into the receiver, Sarah stifled a giggle. No, surely he wasn’t, the cow on reception would definitely think she was a whore now. Christopher coughed “Would you be able to send up a box of condoms please, and add it to my bill” Sarah laughed out loud. He turned to face her, his cock erect, pre-cum leaking from the tip. She couldn’t resist, she crawled across the bed, grabbed his cock and licked the top tip of him, causing him to close his eyes, dropping his head back. “Thank you” he managed to say before putting the phone down. “Sarah, no stop or we won’t need those condoms”. He stroked her head. She knelt up and pulled him to her.

“Was that the snotty receptionist?” Christopher looked at her and shrugged “If it is, she thinks I’m whore, I saw they way she was staring at me. Now she will be sure” Sarah laid back laughing, he watched her breasts bouncing as she laughed.

Pulling on a robe, he waited by the door for the knock. He opened the door, took the small packet and tipped the porter. He fumbled with the cellophane wrapping, giving up he threw it on the bed.

“Help us out” Sarah didn’t need a second telling she had that wrapper off, and the box open, tipping out the foil wrapped condoms onto the bed. Christopher’s robe was discarded on the floor now, he scrambled back onto the bed. There was no time to waste, he tore open the wrapper and rolled it down. Sarah positioned herself, ready for him. She didn’t have to wait long. He thrust his cock into her, filling her completely. She threw her head back orgasming again immediately. He sucked her breast, again she orgasmed, her back arched. She cried out, he cupped her breasts, flicked her nipples. It was too much for Sarah, she blacked out.

She opened her eyes,  she was laid on the bed, Christopher stood next to her a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Sarah blushed

“Sorry, sometimes when I orgasm I pass out if it gets too much” He stroked her hair, Sarah reached up and slipped her hand behind his head, pulling him down to kiss her. “So we can carry on if you want to” Did he need telling again, hell no he was between her legs entering her like a shot. She gasped, her pussy gripping him.

“Has that happened before?” he asked as he thrust into cautiously. She nodded.

“But not for a long time” He was gentler now as if he was scared that he would hurt her. He kissed her lips, his hand gently cupping her breast. She could feel his cock growing harder again inside her, as his tempo increased. Her faint soon seem forgotten, as he pounded harder. Suddenly he withdrew, getting down on his knees to lick her. She writhed and wriggled. Orgasms gripping her body.

“Are you okay?” he checked, she grabbed his head

“Yes, please carry on. Please” she begged. He smiled, kissing her, his body pressing on her. He pressed his cock against her, but not into her, teasing her. She thrust against him, but he pulled back, teasing her. “Please, Please. I need you” With that he thrust into her, harder than before. She cried out again, grabbing his arse digging her fingers in as she pulled him into her.

“Hands above your head” he ordered, she did as she was told. He grabbed her wrists, pinning her to the bed. He nuzzled her ear “Sarah, Oh God Sarah” he kissed her neck, he had so much to say, but couldn’t find the words. It was probably for the best, as he didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing. Christ, he was already doing the wrong thing, but he didn’t care it was great. He looked back down at Sarah, he had never really looked at her before, at least not the way he was tonight. “Sarah, can I let your hair down?”. She locked her eyes on his face.

“My hair down?” she asked to check she had heard him right, this actually freaked her out a bit, her hair was never down.

“Please” He begged again. Sarah wriggled free from his grip, in one swift move her hair bands were removed, her hair free.

Christopher rolled onto his back, Sarah straddled him lowering herself onto his cock. He grabbed her hips, moving her up and down. Her long hair flowing all around her, as he fucked her. Her hands ran over his chest, she bent forward and kissed him. She changed her angle slightly, it was too much for him. She felt that familiar twitch as his face distorted, he grunted as he orgasmed. Falling back against the bed, his cock pulsating inside her she squeezed it, causing him to groan louder. When she was sure he was done she rolled off to lay on the bed next to him, she stroked his chest. The afterglow still fully engulfing her body, she wanted to stay here forever. The reality, however, was creeping back into her psyche, shit what had she done, what had they done.

He looked up at her and smiled.

“Thank you, my sweet,” He said, she bent and kissed him.

The reason for their meeting now long forgotten, replaced by a new problem, an issue that would now need to be dealt with. Did they care at the moment? Of course not. If they did, both would know that another meeting would now be required, that could only be something to look forward to.

#

Waters Coming

Waters coming

Pitter, Patter, Splish, Splosh. The rain is coming	A1
Streams begin to flow	B
River banks straining, no escape the drenching	A2
Drains Full. The sewers are bubbling	A new
The level ever grow	B new
Pitter, Patter, Splish, Splosh. The rain is coming	A1
Fences Creaking, Bridges are Groaning	A new
Our flood defences overflow	B new
River banks straining, no escape the drenching	A2
Freshet rising, Islands are forming	A new
Street lights lose their glow	B new
Pitter, Patter, Splish, Splosh. The rain is coming	A1
Cars washed away, buses are floating	A new
Bridges soon to go	B new
River banks straining, no escape the drenching	A2
Not possible to escape the droaning	A new
Businesses face another blow	B new
Pitter, Patter, Splish, Splosh. The rain is coming	A1
River banks straining, no escape the drenching	A2

Alluvion

Alluvion

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

Down comes the rain

Pavements wet

Puddles forming

Sky's dark again

Splish splosh

Splish splosh

The Deluge comes

Harder faster

Coats pulled tight

umbrellas up

Rivulets trickling

Getting bigger

Total Inundation

Streams now

Torrents flowing

Streets are river like

Rivers swollen

Sewers gushing

Water  all around

Freshet rising

Islands forming

No escape the drenching

Banks straining

Defences failing

Water everywhere

Doors leaking

Walls creaking

Carpets soggy

Babies screaming

Adults crying

Sirens wailing

Sandbags pointless

Sluices overrun

The drought forgotten

Cars floating

Boats in roads

Caravans destroyed

Houses soaking

Bridges broken

Families parted

Businesses ruined

Lives in tatters

Floods everywhere

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Freshet - the occurrence of a water flow resulting from sudden rain or melting snow

Alluvion - the rising of a body of water and its overflowing onto normally dry land