Workman: Chapter Four - Part Nine

9

We left the Hunter’s Moon together into a fresh and clear spring night. There wasn’t a soul in sight and the street was silent. The sky was cloudless and filled with stars.

“We’ll go back to yours,” said Sangeeta, slipping her arm through mine. “I don’t want to see Rasheed if I can avoid it.”

I found myself shrugging. “Sure thing. If you like.”

I had no idea what I was thinking.

We were both quite drunk but it wasn’t far to walk. Sangeeta pulled me to a stop before the end of the row of shop fronts though and put her palm flat on my chest. “Can you just hang on a second? I want to pop in here.”

She was gone inside before I’d even had time to register that it was a convenience store. I saw her recede toward the back, checking left and right with her head as she walked. I scratched my head, turning away.

What the hell was I doing?

But what did it matter? It was like Sangeeta had said. There was only here and now. Nothing else mattered. I could over-think it but the alcohol on my veins coaxed at me not to bother. I could choose to contemplate the rightness of all this or I could go with the flow. I wanted to go with the flow. I really wanted that. Just imagine this was real – that I was really Geoff – that this beautiful and funny woman wanted me. And she did want me. I knew she did. And this wasn’t pretend. I was a man.

My brain was aflow with rationalisations, but the fact was that none of them mattered and neither did the thin girly voice beneath them all saying I was doing wrong. I was simply too pissed to care.

Sangeeta emerged, grinning, hiding the bag she brought out with her, but not enough for me to see that it wasn’t just one item. The items I was thinking – hoping – she’d bought might be in there, but there were other things too. She pushed the carrier into the top of her own bag and gave me a flouncy and very feminine prod with her fingers.

“Keep your eyes forward mister,” she said. “What’s in there is none of your business.”

We walked up the hill into the Chauncy suburbs, remaining arm-in-arm. The trees were ancient. There were street lights but the overhanging foliage blocked out a lot of the light leaving long swaths of blackness between amorphous zones of faded illumination.

We alternated telling long jokes, doing full characterisations and kooky accents for the different characters. Sangeeta was hilarious and shockingly politically incorrect. As for me: normally I was terrible at jokes – forgetting punch lines and losing the thread half way through. The new me was a natural comedian. I had a brand new grasp of timing and a portfolio of different intonations from all over the world.

When we turned into my drive I was finishing a joke off about the prime minister, the queen and Jesus arguing over the last parachute in an out of control plane and Sangeeta was hooting with laughter. It rolled out of her then raised in volume and pitch, rolling out again. I was laughing too and we crashed against the front door in another long clench, buried in the shadows, lips pressed together, tongues finding each other inside our mouths. Then Sangeeta remembered the joke and broke out from the kiss with laughter and I joined her, searching for the front door key while I went on chuckling.

“Wow,” whispered Sangeeta as I led her in. “This place is huge.”

“If you like things to be huge then you ain’t seen nothing yet baby,” I replied.

She smirked saucily. “I like the sound of that big boy.”

“You want the tour?”

“Later.” She came to me in the shadowy hall and slipped her fingers into the top of my jeans, tugging my waist up against hers. I leant down to kiss her again but she stepped away playfully and said, “Which is the lounge. Through here?” She started walking.

“Yeah.”

“And that’s the kitchen back there?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” She ran her fingertips down the join at the front of my shirt. Go into the lounge and sit down. Relax. I’ll be through in a minute. Put some music on if you’ve got it.”

She gave me a little push on the arm to twirl me round and urge me through the doorway. Mystified and intrigued I followed her instructions and she disappeared toward the back of the house with her bag.

I put some low music on and stood waiting; then I sat. I leaned back, then forward, then I followed her suggestion and reclined in the armchair. It was a big lounge with old fashioned furniture. The only light was a lamp with a fluted and dusty shade. It gave the entire room a dim glow but left long streaking shadows that made half of everything black.

Sangeeta was gone for longer than I was expecting and the liquor was making me drowsy. I closed my eyes, enjoying the enveloping peace and the gloom. I gave the tiniest start when I heard her enter the room behind me and say, “Stay sitting there. Don’t look round yet.”

“Sounds almost frightening.”

“Just wait until you see what I’ve got.”

She set something down on the oak table behind me then appeared above my head, stroking my stubbly cheek with her smooth hand. “Relax big boy,” she said.

“What have you got there?”

“Trust me.”

I smiled, closing my eyes and Sangeeta undid the top three buttons of my shirt, probing inside with her hands, stroking my broad hairy chest then working back to my neck, kneading the muscles there; massaging my shoulders.

It felt wonderful.

Then I opened my eyes in surprise when something unfamiliar touched my face and neck; something warm, closing over it. It was a towel, steaming and hot; a delicious and soothing sensation.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Something my father taught me how to do.” She smiled. She stroked my face again then wrapped the hot towel up around my neck and cheeks. “I’m going to shave you.” She smiled again and the lamplight sparkled in her eyes.

She went out of my field of vision and I lay back, enjoying the tranquillity and heat. She let the heat sink into me for a while then she reappeared, sliding the towel off me and lathered up my neck and the sides of my face.

“I’m going to leave you with a goatee,” she said. “I think you’d look gorgeous with one.”

I shifted, unsure, still coaxed into going with the flow, but wondering what that would be like. My stubble was thick enough but it was like it would be a further transformation deeper into manhood. The initial physical change had been just the first step. The mental changes and slowly encompassed me ever since, but I still seemed to be on that journey and having a trimmed beard seemed like a doorway somehow; as though it were an acceptance of entering another stage. I felt as though if I said yes to this then I was opening myself to a deeper immersion in masculinity.

“Is that okay?” she asked.

I looked at her pretty face; her playful mischievous eyes; and I murmured the word, “Yes.”

She leant into me, putting pressure with both hands on my chest, and kissed me tenderly.

She went back to the table and returned with the razor. The top button of her blouse was undone and the dip of her cleavage was enticingly visible. I couldn’t take my eyes off it until the blade caught the light, distracting me.

With one hand on my upper arm and a knee resting on the centre of the seat, between my legs, touching my inner thighs, she started to work, gently scraping the blade across my neck and down my cheeks.

She manoeuvred round me, always touching and stroking with her spare hand and I wallowed in the growing essence of pleasure and repose. Her expression was so perfect in its concentration and mirth and the more it went on – the more she pushed the transformation on – the more I wanted her; the less I cared about who I was before. My entire existence became just this series of moments. There was no Alison in the past or future. There was only Geoff and Sangeeta.

She finished the shave and used the towel to wipe away the excess lather carefully, then she smoothed aftershave onto my cheeks and neck with her hands, not taking her eyes off mine.

I reached up and touched my smooth cheeks. They felt lovely and still warm. Then I felt the bristles of my new goatee beard and the moment I touched it, the erection that had been building in my jeans swelled.

My body moved without my command with an almost savage urgency. I went forward, grabbing Sangeeta’s shoulders and kissing her hard, opening my mouth and tilting my head, over and over, needing to devour her. She kissed my back, fondling my sides, and then suddenly she was snatching at my shirt front with an equal fervour, fumbling with the buttons; undoing one, then another.

I gently nudged her out of the way, gripping the centre of the join then ripped the shirt open down its length in one movement.

“Oh! I like it!”

“You’ll like this better,” I said, grabbing her again and flipping her up into my arms, making her cry out in alarm and delight. I carried her to the table then set her down. Her eyes were clasping all the light in the darkness; reflecting it back. She struggled with her own top, pulling it at. I waited, impatiently, then I couldn’t stop myself and I went in with my big hands and tried to help her; but it was caught on something. It wouldn’t come.

“Rip it off.”

We shared a grin, then I clutched the fabric at the seam and tore it off in one great swipe of passionate fury.

I pushed her down onto the table as she grasped now at the buttons on my jeans. Her skirt came up easily revealing long muscular tanned legs, gorgeously soft and smooth.

I wanted her so badly. Nothing could have held me back now. There was no room in my mind for the fact of my fairer sex. I was nothing but a man. It was my encompassing identity. I wanted nothing on this earth but to couple with this beautiful and delightful woman.

She slipped a sheath on me from her bag while I kissed her neck and then she fell back and I drew her toward me. My jeans and boxers dropped into a pool at my ankles. I kicked them off and marvelled at the pulsing cock unfurled between my legs. Pulling on Sangeeta’s knees I slid her to the edge of the table

“Oh yes!” she cried. “Yes! Like that!”

I grabbed her hips and thrust forward, pulling her against me, forcing my cock into her burning centre, and the sensation was like no other. It was everything. It was all the world. It was the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was infinitely better than then the urgent lonely gropings of the night before. My entire body tensed rigid and a long scraping groan issued from deep in my throat.

Then again it was urgency and passion; Sangeeta, reaching up with her lovely slender fingers to caress my chest, as she curled her head back one way then the other, moaning in rising pleasure, the fingertips of her right hand stroking her lower lip back and forward.

It slowed; just the gentle rocking of our bodies, back and forth; back and forth. Sangeeta raised her torso, arms propping her up and I kissed her chest, her neck, her face, her mouth. I cradled her and her hands found my muscular shoulders, my broad pecs, my strong stomach, the top of my hips; drawing me back and forth; back and forth, just smiling at one another.

Her eyes closed and she groaned again, her head lolling back. I kissed her neck and she scratched my back with her fingernails. I gritted my teeth and whimpered from the abrupt spike of passion.

In my groin the power was building. I knew it was too soon but I needed it now. I couldn’t stop or slow down. I had to speed up. I had to ride it. I was like an animal. I had no will or desire to stop now – to draw it out. It had to be now.

My pumping became frantic and I rammed into her. I lifted her off the table, her legs wrapping round me. She started to cry out too but I could barely hear it. I had to do this now. I had to possess her in this way. She had to be mine right now!

A feeling came unlike anything I could have imagined – something completely new – but I recognised it nonetheless for the only thing it could be. Then it was gone. But I didn’t stop. I went on thrusting harder and harder. We locked our lips together and she went on stroking and scratching and groping. The feeling came back; vanished; came back; building.

I couldn’t believe it could feel so good. I couldn’t stop pumping. The sensation was starting to overwhelm and paralyse me but I didn’t let it. I went on doing it to her; with her. I went on crashing against Sangeeta until it really was too much; until the white razor edge of the ecstasy wiped out all cognisance. My legs shuddered. I barely kept us vertical.

“Oh God,” I moaned. “Oh Jesus Christ. Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes. Please. Yes.”

It wiped over everything. The world was gone. The room was gone. Even Sangeeta and I were gone. That nothingness lasted for a drawn out time and then the world started to creep back in. Only slowly. Only gradually. The pleasure went on buzzing throughout my body and my soul.

Soft lips found mine and we kissed again but I was breathless. I couldn’t focus enough to return it properly at first.

Then we were kissing long and passionately, still clenched at our waists, her legs still curled about me.

We kissed and kissed until we had to stop; trying to catch our breath and weary and very, very happy.