Chapter nine, Thursday:24thoctober2013, the next morning
I wake and wonder if the maid will notice my bed hasn’t been slept in. Then I decide I probably shouldn’t care, because she certainly won't. I pick up Daniels room phone, he's sleeping on his front beside me, I can get a really good look at his arse...I mean the ink on his back, there's one that goes from his shoulder-blade across his ribcage and ends past his hip bone into his amazing arse. Deep breath, I dial the kitchen and order breakfast.
Daniel is already dressed when room service arrives, we eat chatting about what the 'show' will be like, I have lots of questions. Some about Daniel it's too early to ask, not too early in the day, too early in the relationship.....relationship? Well whatever it is. “It's like sleeping with the Riddler.” he tells me.
On the idle hill of summer,
Sleepy with the flow of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
Drumming like a noise in dreams.
That's better.
I have a bowl of exquisitely tasting tiny strawberries, a warm sweet smelling croissant and wild honey cake, Daniel has cereal with blueberries and granary toast and we share a huge pot of honeysuckle tea, it's delicious. Well, Tetley would seem strange in Tokyo, I'm sure you'd agree. I am sore and achy from last night, so exciting being bound.
Note to self, buy handcuffs.
TC: “It worked thank you” I’m needy aren’t I?
PF: “You owe me big-time, do you have a vibrator?” Does she ever stop?
TC: “You bought it for me for my Birthday remember?” She feels sorry for me, I’m single.
PF: “You won’t need to keep it recharged any-more” hope she’s right.
TC: “Love you”
I am dressing whilst Daniel finishes his breakfast, I eat fast people tell me, probably because I have other mouths but mine to feed. I have on my black Elle McPherson underwear and balconette bra which barely covers my nipples and lacy short briefs to match, without hay. Suddenly I’m grateful to Pete for taking me intimates shopping. Stockings and suspender belt, this is the new me, and I like it, I pull on a jersey mini skirt, and tidy the bed.
Daniel is behind me, places his hand on my back to keep me bent, and moves his hand under my skirt to my knickers. It's an exquisite feeling, his touch light like a butterfly's wings, flicking and rubbing gently over the seams of my knickers. My heels are very high, putting my arse high in the air, in the perfect position, for him, and inviting him. I groan with immense pleasure, is this what being with Daniel will be like? Everything about seduction and incredible sex?
His fingers are sliding underneath the lace, I am still bent over, my hands flat out resting on the bed taking my weight. Daniels other hand is touching the tops of my stockings, where the lacy edge meets the trim, he slides his hand all the way round, stopping right between my legs where the softest part of my body is and the silkiest skin. He moves that hand to my arse, over my jersey skirt and his other fingers have gained access under my underwear. I groan loudly again, it's driving my nerves insane again, I bend my knees slowly to increase the pressure his fingers have on me, and he's busies himself making me wet and ready. He smacks me hard where my buttocks join my legs and an unbelievable feeling starts to build, my orgasm begins its journey, the feeling is delicious, I lick my lips involuntarily.
I can feel the end of his tie as it dangles on my arse, and he rolls the hem of my skirt to my waist. “Daniel,” my eyes are tight shut, “what are you doing to me?” I move my arse to meet his cock and I can feel it's hard and ready too. Slipping off my panties leaving everything else in place, he slides into me easily and incredibly from behind, it’s exquisite. I still have my garter and stockings and Christian Laboutin heels on, I feel sexy probably for the first time in my life. He pumps into me ruthlessly and we both climax quickly, and fall on the bed. Daniel doesn’t stop there, he can’t leave me alone, can’t stop using his fingers on me. My body burns for him, yearns, I am hungry.
He lifts me off the ground and sits me on the bar, which is much higher off the ground than the bed. He moves in between my legs kisses my mouth hard, our tongues massaging each other. I tear open the condom packet and enjoy the job of pulling the thin slippery fibre around his magnificent penis. I take my time and I do the job right, with a little flourish at the end I cup his balls gently in my hand and give them a massage which drives him even crazier his face tightens and his eyes shut tight.
He hands me his tie urgently, like he won’t wait any more, and I position it around his back so I have something to hold on to, position of the month August Cosmo, that subscription money well spent. I raise my legs so my ankles are on his shoulders and he enters me easily with a soft hum right to the end of my insides. I lean back using the tie to pull myself harder into him and he moves slowly very slowly in and out of me, in and out, then just the end bulb of his almighty cock in and out slightly faster. I pump my hips hard into him, up and down, taking my own pleasure, rubbing my cleft into the length of his wonderfully large cock. What was that poem about drumming? Bloody hell. My core tightening with every deep thrust, my mind going crazy as he denies my instant gratification.
“I want it hard Daniel” I tell him, “don’t make me say please,” I shift my arse on the hard surface closer to the edge, closer to him, pulling hard on the tie ends to get a harder, deeper contact.
“I know you do.” he hums into my ear, “you always want more of me.” We both lock eyes and don't flinch when he thrusts into me hard. “You just can’t get enough, “a steady rhythm is building. My aching tired body hungry for release again, its torment growing with every calculated thrust, deliberately keeping me from orgasm, making me wait, delicious friction, rubbing and grinding myself into him, needing the sweet release, but he still doesn’t give it to me. I angle my body back further, tilting my head.
“Daniel” I call his name, desperate for orgasm I reach for myself, he grabs my wrist.
“No.” He sounds stern, strong, I shudder, I like it. “I say when baby,” I angle my body into him to gain some pressure and friction. Waiting is almost unbearable, but I know from my experience of Daniel that when the storm comes it'll be a typhoon. He pulls out of me to the very tip of his penis, oh delightful agony, gently slowly, I’m almost unconscious with desire. My sex is trembling, I am on the brink of losing my mind, he pushes back into me slowly, sliding inside easily, the sensation of fullness, I am completely containing this man, its exquisite and frustrating. He denies me a climax time and time again. “Slide your cunt over me baby.” Those words almost send me to ‘la la land’, he grabs my buttocks and lifts me off the table. Further, deeper inside me, I am in agony, sweet, beautiful agony, this man is driving my body and mind insane, every nerve a wreck, nervously waiting for instructions to ignite.
Still waiting to set fire my body is surviving on adrenalin alone, my tendons and nerve bundles are torturously exhausted, I can barely cling onto him, luckily all my years of riding has built strong muscles in my thighs and core strength. In and out our bodies smack hard against each other, it’s a very arousing sound, trembling my blood is coursing through my body, my sex sliding along the whole length of him, to the tip then a pause and back in again, I need release, why does he do this to me, is it power? Am I being punished? What for?
Not everything is about me, I decide.
It’s hard to go there when I’m naked and being tortured, albeit in a wonderful seductive way. I can’t survive much of more this, my body will run out of fuel soon, its only my mind that gives me the energy to keep my legs around his waist ...my mind is crashing, it's intoxicated with all the stimuli my raging body is sending it. My nipples harden further, and my raw senses increase their charge.
“You like me to f*ck you Tharie.”
“Yes.” barely a whisper, I don’t have any spare energy. He pumps his glistening cock into me, sending me spiralling, closer and closer, and suddenly the flood gates open and I explode, wave after wave after f*cking amazing wave, my orgasm lasts forever, on and on, and I am completely exhausted. Bloody godamned hell.
Where's the bloody tea then?
“F*ck! Tharie!” His eyes close and his head is back, breathing laboured and covered in a fine film of sweat we crash into each other, hot ejaculate inside me. My eyes stay shut, I am relieved finally, and the wait was worth it, it intensifies the feeling, prolongs the length of the orgasm. But Daniel knows that doesn’t He? That’s why he does it... He drops me to the ground gently. Pulling out of me my sex is tight and trembling, Daniel smiles at me a smouldering seductive look, he is so hot, I feel a sudden release of arousal. He licks his lips and bends to me, kissing my *, flicking and blowing and using gentle sucks to get me off again, I can’t believe my body has any more orgasm in it, it's barely enough coping with breathing in and out, but here it builds again, and again, taking me higher, faster and faster, until I crash again and again, his skilful mouth returning me to delightful ecstasy over and over, leaving me trembling again, and completely exhausted.
Looking at me he licks his lips again “you taste wonderful Tharie, I could eat you all day.” His look sends further shivers running through me, still hard, his smile a friendly one, “I have more to give you baby.” My eager aching sex takes him whole once more.
Did we pack enough tea bags? Is all my mind can wonder?
Later in chapter nine, Thursday:24thoctober2013, a great start to the day
My skin is so sensitive to every touch, ready and waiting.
“You like that baby?” He asks, eyes smouldering and burying into me, burning faster and he thrusts faster, my legs are around his waist, he walks me over to the window and pushes my hot sweaty back against the cold hard glass of the window, hard. That feels so good. All the thumping has begun a cascade of nerves alight, building and building again, my body worships his, “oh f*ck Tharie!” He spurts into me once more, it's doesn’t take much to finish me off, a crash of hot flowing pleasure erupts all over me, just the sound of my name from those beautiful lips and I crash around him. “Baby, you’re mine.” His breath coming in low hisses between clenched teeth, “I want to f*ck you every second of every day.”
I release my grip from around his neck, unfold my legs from his waist, he lets me slide to the floor again, I can hardly stand. “I have to start buying energy drinks if you do” I laugh miserably feebly. Wobbly on my legs we go to the bathroom where Daniel gives me a gentle intimate wipe down with a flannel and we dress again, grab our stuff and leave.
Our car waits for us and as I get in Daniel puts his hand up my skirt again, this time just to prove he can, any-time he wants to, whether appropriate or not, and I find it so hot. Wearing my RANDom denim jacket, Daniel looks impressed but he has just f*cked me hard all morning, so I can understand.
My phone requires my attention.
PF: “Babes, how’s Japan?” Pete has family still living here I think.
TC: “Hot and wet” true story, writers would call that a double entendre.
PF: “Nice, all that expensive lingerie worth every penny?” She has a firm grasp of subtext.
TC: “I owe you a drink, a big one Tx” true story.
PF: “And the boy?” You have no idea what I’ve let him do to me.
TC: “Man Pete, man trust me” oh god yes, maybe the brothers have more than cheekbones in common?
PF: “I’m enjoying some of that myself right now, I can relate” true story.
TC: “Filthy” oh, yes please.
PF: “God yes!” I just want to bite his arse.
TC: “Where can I get handcuffs from?” In all seriousness.
PF: “You are doing well honey, I’m so proud” I’m being serious.
TC: “Thank you” I am quite pleased with myself and notice my snug look just in time.
Daniel glances at me on the phone.
PF: “Well good luck, see you at the weekend, I’ll order some handcuffs for you on-line” love her.
TC: “Love you”
Our entry to the event proves to be easier than it looks at first glance, you'd think we were trying to crash an underground illegal poker match. Bloody hell, I really do watch too much crime drama! We pull up, our Humvee idling at the side of the narrow residential cobbled alley, several oversized suited men lurking with intent. They stand sentry by the door. They have blue-tooth communication headsets, intimidating indigo blue gang tattoos that creep onto their hands and up their throats, making them look scary. At the door there's two posted as bouncers, they’re both sumo-sized, not tall, with no necks. Their chinless heads just balloon out of their shoulders, fat, potato shaped faces with tiny cold coal coloured eyes, thin grimacing lips, cruel. They don’t talk, just snort with a vague indication of approval from a subtle head tilt.
We stride confidently to the door, tall beautifully golden leaved bamboos stand either side as a welcome, blowing with gentle snapping noises as the wind picks up. We show our business card and the 'key' invitation, which is actually a key, and authenticated by the shorter, wider lurker, we are allowed to enter without so much as a sniff, the key opens the black metal door into the event.
A badminton court sized room like a school gym in appearance, I am a little nervous but I’m not certain why, there’s a strange feeling in the air, intimidating and cold. It’s quite dark in here too, and the walls are lined with stands with crowds of very serious collectors bidding for these denims. Tables and benches lay before us with jeans folded on them. Some items are clutched hard in the hands of people not willing to let go of their finds, desperate to strike a deal with the handler or auctioneer of the jean.
Money is changing hands here I can smell it, Daniel tightens the grip on my hand, fearful or simply affection, I can’t tell, and leads me to one stand in particular. A tiny old Japanese woman looking like a walking well-preserved date, leathery dark skin, shrivelled and old, sits on a tall stool the only one in the entire event smoking. A narrow black cigarette with a slim band of metallic gold between her twisted lips. There are two men working her stand I guess are her sons, there’s a similarity in the darting nervous expression. Her fingers dark like a fine layer of brown rubber is loosely draped over a foundation of delicate bone, her nails very long and tobacco stained.
She nods almost imperceptibly at Daniel, and he returns the gesture. They know each-other. Slipping off her stool, far too high up for her, I expect one of her sons helps her up there. She crouches under the table my eyes follow her, no there’s a little set of steps for her back there. She takes out a bag pauses with it tight against her body for a moment and hands it to Daniel with care, or is it pride I can’t tell. The smell inside the room is a mixture of strong colognes: potent and combined and cotton twill fills the air. A drama unfolding at every table, the passion with which the denims are being traded is incredible. There’s a loud throng of demanding voices raised in a cacophony, it’s like static as it carries energy.
I feel enlivened and my brain is taking in every detail, its sketching the scene for future reference. Its moments like these that start the creative cascade. It’s how trends begin, always as a whisper or a brief moment where an idea can begin and flourish, it’s never a flash or a light bulb, it’s more like a seeping feeling, subtle and quiet. You must be ready always to listen, because it’s easily miss able. Often it’s not until the voices are loud and obvious that most people take note of an emerging trend, but of course for me, it’s already spent by then.
An original Levis from circa 1900 just exchanged hands for $120,000dollars. Undoubtedly heading for a glass case display in the house of a wealthy denim merchant or mill. A confection of qualities lays before us, multiple sources of jeans are handled and revered. I hold the jean Daniels has handed to me, it’s come from inside a pressure sealed foil packet with a pull tab opening. I hold it to my face and smell it. This denim with the most incredible soft hand-feel and dry touch, a culmination of the ancient genealogy in indigo dying a processes created by artisans a thousand years previously, but the provenance of this jean is much newer. It’s hard and stiff to look at, but soft and light to touch, it has the appearance of tough raw denim but stretches nearly 100%. I look surprised at Daniel, my face says it all, this is the holy grail of jeans, it is everything but as light as nothing.
KAF collected canter. “Well?” He asks me.
My face flushes hot, what I think about this must be obvious to anyone. All I can manage however, is a nod.
FX half-pass to the left.
I spew a few indiscernible utterances finally, still moved by this garment, it’s what happens when the ripple of a trend begins for me, it’s a denim thing. I can’t bring myself to hand it back. Daniel just nods at the woman, hands her a black plastic wallet filled with U$Dollars. She places the money on a digital scale, and totally without emotion repacks the layers of paper and hands the packet to one of her sons. He takes the item from me with little reverence to its inception, folds it in a static free coated paper, lays a folded sheet of handwritten paper. I take to be a note of covenance or a numbered receipt of provenance, between the folds, and slides it into a calico bag sealed with a drawstring at one end with what looks like a heavy metal seal as a slider.
I am handed the packet, and I lovingly handle it as if it were delicate, whilst Daniel answers a text message, it makes him pause and frown. Still surprised by its total lightness, once he’s done I reverently hand it back to him. Daniel places the calico bag into his canvas hold all, looking around him furtively as he does. “Let’s get out of here” he’s in a rush, his eyes flicking nervously around the room.
“I’d like to look around some more if that’s OK,” I answer.
Looking dubious and with a final sweep of the room Daniel agrees, “Please, be quick.” He’s anxious, I can sense it. I take his hand this time squeezing it with an understanding smile, “come on, let’s go.”
His relief is obvious, he lets out a lungful of air as if he’s been holding it there for too long, and pulls me hard to the door. Eyes are on us from all directions of the room, they watch us leave. I’ve got an uncomfortable feeling and I don’t like it.
Daniel, motions to the car and it pulls up quickly and the door flies open by remote control it was the car he was texting. He pushes me in head first like he’s protecting me from something, or he's just trying to see the tops of my stockings, I feel his hand graze over my cunt in a second and then he stops, teasing me is something he enjoys, a control freak!
Daniel gets in behind me, slams the door...it doesn’t close by remote, he thumps his fist on the headrest of the front seat and our driver spins away. Daniel is tense. Blimey, this isn't the Sweeney!
“What was all that about?” I ask, a nervous feeling creeping inside my gut...or was it just lack of tea?
He doesn’t want to talk about it I can tell, but I maintain my glare and make him, he doesn’t remove his attention from his phone however, hum, rude boy.
“Several parties want this jean,” and finishing typing his phone goes away. He pats the bag now sitting on the floor between his feet. “They still want it.”
“You mean they will offer you money for it?” I ask naively, “you'll sell it?”
“No Tharie,” he smiles awkwardly, “I mean they’ll take it from me without asking.” Eyes forward, thinking, Daniel, has a masked look on his face, fixed and hard.
I decide to answer the call of my phone as it alerts me a welcome distraction.
HC: “Sis, how’s Japan” so transparent.
TC: “Your new single is on sale here, posters all over Harajuku” see? I did remember to look.
HC: “How amazing is that?” It really is.
TC: “And there’s a photo of you in all the papers with a model on your arm too” he is such a slut.
HC: “A boys got to do what a boys got to do” apparently so.
Back to the inside of the car, Daniel is still sulking.
Damn, I forgot to bring my hip flask.