Page 14 of Vanilla Martinis
“It was a mistake, I swear.” She holds her hands up.
My phone chimes again with a message from Christopher. It’s taking you a while to reply and I can see you’ve read my PM. Should I be worried about my car?
Ainsley reads the message over the top of my phone. This time I don’t wait to reply. Your car is fine. We had a great night together. ;)
“And that’s my queue to leave. I’ll be home for tea.” Ainsley climbs off the bed and makes her exit.
Christopher: I’m intrigued. Are there any pictures of what you got up to?
Me: Maybe next time. When are you going to pick her up?
Christopher: Who says my car’s a girl? I’ll set off in an hour. Where is your car? Do you want me to take a look at it? I know a little about engines and might be able to help.
Me: I thought all cars were female. Mine’s next to yours. It would be great if you could have a look at the old girl.
Christopher: I’ll see you soon. Xx
My belly fills with excitement in anticipation of his arrival. I run my hand through my hair before climbing out of bed. Looking in the mirror, it’s obvious a comb-through isn’t going to cut it. I jump in the shower, ready for Christopher’s imminent arrival.
CHAPTER Eight
Christopher
“Are you sure this is the right place?” my dad asks as we get closer to the address on Nellie’s driving license. The streets are less cared for and the plants are overgrown. Some of the houses need repairs, and the garden walls need a coat of fresh paint. This is far from the location of the women I’m usually interested in.
“Yes. Over there,” I say when my car comes into view. He pulls up alongside it, and I get out.
“Do you need me to wait?”
“No. I’ll see you at home. Thanks.”
I wave him off, and he drives toward the end of the street before turning into the next one. The house numbers are next to the doors. Nellie’s car is right outside her house, next to mine. The rusty gate squeaks when I open it while the curtains twitch. Someone is watching me. A thrill runs through my chest. Lightly, I knock on the wooden door, and a few minutes later, Nellie answers.
A cloud of sweet vanilla perfume wafts in the air, and I lick my lips. She looks even more beautiful in her own clothes. Her hair is straight rather than up in a ponytail, and she’s dressed all in black.
“Hi, trouble,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
Her eyes wander down my body. Maybe it’s a mirror of how I looked at her. Either way, I like it. A rush of blood heads to my groin, which I don’t try to cover up.
“I’m a good girl. You’re the naughty one. Come in,” she says, gesturing me inside.
“Okay, vanilla,” I say, remembering the cocktail she mentioned when she gave me the idea of seeing someone causally but regularly.
“You’re right. I don’t have any kinks. There’s no shame in that.”
“No, there’s not.” I was only talking about cocktails, but it’s good to know she’s not expecting any roleplay.
Boldly, I touch her lips with my fingertips. I’m not one to take my time when I know what I want. Inviting me in is the only encouragement I need. Her tongue darts out, tingling my nerve endings. More blood rushes away from my head as I replace my fingers with my lips.
Kissing her is already addictive. Her soft lips glide against mine as she opens up for me. I want to savour every second. My hand slips up into her hair so I can pull her closer. Our mouths collide over and over until we’re both breathless.
“Do you want to take this upstairs?” she asks.
“Yes, I do.” Her confidence surprises me. She already knows what I want. I’ve been obvious about it right from the start. I’m glad she’s not shy about accepting it.
“Great.”
Taking my hand, she leads me to her bedroom. The house is old, with high ceilings, and her room is big, yet minimalist. The walls are painted white, and the furniture is wooden. A dusky pink duvet covers her bed, which she sits down on. Leaning back, she invites me to join her.