Excerpt
The dreams were the worst. They caught her between sleeping and waking and were hyper-real and body squirmingly erotic.
She frequently had ones that were about being in a restaurant or maybe a pub – they spent a lot of time in both. They are sat at a table in a corner, it is lunchtime and the restaurant is busy though the other diners aren’t clear to her, only the noise of them talking and bursts of laughter.
It is a small table. They are facing each other. They already know they are going to go somewhere and have sex, but this is foreplay, stretching it out, layering the anticipation and the arousal. Lots of wine, nearly always Sancerre.
She has a many buttons on her blouse undone as she get away with and has no knickers on – which he knows. She has taken her shoes off and is pushing her toes in to his groin. She can feel the denim of the jeans straining with the erection and pushes her finger in to herself, pulls it out and licks it, leisurely and unhurried. She picks up a piece of asparagus from her plate and tips her head back slightly putting the tip of it on her lips and sucking it ever so gently and slowly before bringing her teeth down on it and biting the head off.
He is chewing on a piece of steak with his mouth slightly open and while the sight of the half-chewed food and blood should be revolting, the redness and the softness, the thought of it against his teeth and his tongue, the slow deliberate chewing, the glistening of buttery jus on his lips the very slightest trace of juices dribbling down his chin, is, somehow, a micro seduction and her body responds, creating its own juices.
The air round them is redolent with the scents and aromas of sex and she feels she wants to pull him up and find the nearest space to fuck him, but, as with so many of the dreams, something wakes her and she is left with the frustration of unmet desire and longing.
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