Fifty Cent Piece Ch. 04

We both twitched and spasmed as we came down from our ecstatic highs, gently stimulating ourselves in the way we knew would eke out the final traces of pleasure from our own bodies. We grinned at one another, aware of the deeply personal nature of what we'd just to done to ourselves but loving the intimacy.

I collapsed on the bench seat and my breathing began to slow. Anna's head was tilted back, her eyes closed, her breathing still ragged. I wiped my hand clean with a wet wipe and offered the packet to Anna. Her legs were still wide open, our combined fluids all over her body. She looked like the aftermath of a porn film. It should have been the most erotic sight but for some reason my post-orgasm come down kicked in rapidly and the nagging fear about what I'd got myself into seeped into my consciousness. Yet again my mind tried in vain to comprehend how I'd ended up in this situation. What was Anna's game? I pulled up my shorts and opened the door to let some more air into the stifling cabin. Anna took the wipes and began to mop herself dry.

"That was naughty, Sam," she said, coquettishly. "Look at the mess you made. I'm all sticky now."

I mumbled some words of apology and climbed out, suddenly uncomfortable. I leaned against the side of the van and took some deep breaths. I heard the passenger door slam.

"Sam, what's the matter?" Anna was beside me, a concerned look on her face. She'd covered herself up but some wet patches showed through the t shirt.

"God, I dunno Anna," I sighed. "I'm sorry. I just lost it for a minute there. I suppose I'm not really used to this sort of thing happening."

"What, wanking?" she giggled.

"I'm serious, Anna, you have to admit it's all been pretty mental. I mean I'm not used to beautiful girls picking me up and fucking me senseless when I don't know the first thing about them."

She looked hurt. Or maybe she was a good actress. "And you think I am used to it?" she asked.

"Anna, I have no idea. This has all just been a blur to me. We only met, what, three days ago? I feel like we've hardly had a proper conversation but we've fucked about twenty times."

"Jesus, Sam, most guys would be pleased a girl isn't firing questions at them all the time. I thought we were having fun."

I gave a snorting laugh at the insanity of the state of affairs. "We are, Anna. It's incredible. You're incredible, but I suppose I'm just a bit lost... Confused... It's like being on a rollercoaster. God, I dunno..." I trailed off, not even sure what I was talking about.

Anna took my hand and sidled up to me. She looked up, into my eyes. She really was beautiful. She wasn't just pretty, or sexy, or horny, there was something about her mysterious nature that went beyond that. Maybe her enigmatic way of being was what made her so beguiling. She smiled sweetly and raised herself on her tiptoes to give me a peck on the cheek. I felt my unease begin to dissipate.

"Don't worry, baby," she cooed. "I'm not a psycho killer, if that's what you're worried about. I just think you're cute, that's all." On tiptoes once more, she leaned into my ear and whispered, "And you've got the most beautiful cock I've ever seen." I think I blushed. Anna grinned again and let go of my hand. She looked at my watch and held it to her ear. "Hey, you were right, it's working!"

***

The town was pretty unprepossessing, a collection of mostly single-storey, wooden houses that gave way to similarly constructed commercial and public buildings clustered around the centre. I'd tried to spend as little time as possible in the more built-up parts of the country, preferring the natural beauty of the countryside to the identikit architecture of the more inhabited regions. I recognised that people needed to live and work, and that not everyone in the country was a wandering bum like myself but I did wonder why such a friendly country, with such stunning natural surroundings had built such characterless places in which to spend most of their lives. One positive of visiting civilisation, however, were the exceedingly good pies on offer at the local dairy. I hadn't been able to find out from anyone exactly why what were essentially bakeries were called dairies but I'd stopped worrying when I discovered the delights on offer inside such establishments.

I was happily chatting away to Anna about the merits of baked pastries and breads as we drove along. I got the feeling her enthusiasm for such delights may have been somewhat lower than my own but I'd moved on from the hormone-induced dip I'd suffered earlier and was riding high again, her lewd compliment still floating around my brain, tickling my ego nicely.

As Anna had literally nothing with her other than the clothes she'd left drying on the deckchair she'd said she wanted to have a look in some shops. I wasn't sure she appreciated the lack of choice I presumed would be on offer but she seemed happy enough with the prospect of wearing whatever small-town New Zealand had in the way of fashion. She hadn't broached the topic of who was going to pay but I'd already resigned myself to parting with some cash. Who knew, perhaps she'd even pay me back when her friends came back; whenever that was.

I slowed down to park outside a row of shops but Anna insisted I went round the back of the shops, beyond where there were parking meters.

"I've dragged you here, there's no point in you spending money if you don't have to," she said seriously.

I was surprised by her sudden concern for my finances but didn't argue and drove round the block, to a quiet side street. I parked the van and jumped out, making sure my bike and windsurfer were secure. I didn't really think there was much risk of anything being stolen but the headline in the paper I'd seen the day before made me double check the locks. Any thief would either have to bring some hefty bolt cutters or steal the whole van, in which case I'd be pretty fucked anyway.

Anna took my hand as we walked along the road and I basked in the sense of togetherness that holding hands with someone brings. Even dressed as she was in tracksuit bottoms, an old t shirt and dusty trainers she was attracting many admiring glances. Blonde and beautiful with a supermodel figure, I guessed she'd had a lifetime of being looked at and took it all in her stride. My previous girlfriends, Amelia in particular, had been very pretty but Anna really was exceptional. I was loving it and had to remind myself not to grin like an idiot.

As we walked along a pickup truck hooted as it passed, the driver and passenger craning their necks to eye Anna up as much as they could. A wave of protectiveness washed through me and I tightened my grip on her hand. Anna giggled appreciatively and said, "Sam, my big strong man, always looking out for me. What would I do without you?"

I smiled at her tease, relaxing my grip, keen she didn't think I was being possessive. It did make me think though, how easy it is for men to sail along, casually appraising every woman they see, whether consciously or not, without giving much of a thought to either how they look themselves or what the woman they are eyeing up might think. I'd always considered myself a step beyond the stereotypical lad about town, ogling pretty girls but the truth was every time I looked at Anna her appearance influenced whatever thoughts I had. I loved having people look at the girl I was with and think she was sexy. Perhaps the male ego and its need to be reassured really did supersede everything else.

"Do you mind that kind of thing," I asked, genuinely intrigued.

Anna laughed and flashed her radiant smile. "It depends who it is! It does get boring sometimes but I'm not complaining really. My mother always hates it when I say this but looks do count so why not use them? I'd rather people think I'm pretty than ugly."

"Trust me Anna," I said, "there's no danger of that."

She grinned again and stopped. She stood in front of me and kissed me, then said, "You're such a sweetie, Sam." On tiptoes once more she leaned in to kiss me again. As her tongue slipped into my mouth our bodies pressed together. Despite everything, the tingle in my groin that I had whenever she touched me began to grow, quite literally, and the result pressed against her tummy. Anna broke from our kiss, her sweet smile replaced by the lustful look I'd seen so many times since meeting her. Her hand slid between our bodies and she gently rubbed the growing bulge. "Good," she said, "I'm glad he still likes me."

She stepped back and took my hand again, leaving me to rearrange the aftermath of our kiss that was now pointing outward at anyone who looked at me. An elderly couple walked slowly past, the woman tutting, the man looking wistfully in our direction.

Having subtly adjusted my positioning I steered Anna towards the dairy a little further along the row, eager for her to experience the savoury delights within.

"You said you'll try anything once," I reminded her. "Now, for your first steak and cheese pie."

We ate lunch on a bench outside the dairy, soaking up the sun, watching the world go by. Anna's half-eaten pie sat beside her, her Scandinavian palette obviously unused to such delicacies. We chatted about nothing in particular and I was in no mood to try and tease out anything that might give me a better idea about who she really was, my previous efforts having been met with various forms of diversionary tactics. For now I was content to enjoy her company and wait for the next sexual escapade which I was sure wouldn't be far away. Whatever else it was, being with Anna certainly wasn't boring.

***

I was in a pub, drinking a cold beer, watching a repeat of a European football game that had been played the evening before. This being New Zealand, I was the only person in the place taking any interest in the game, although various other patrons stared blankly at the screen, as people are wont to do if a TV is on in a bar.

There were maybe a couple of dozen customers, more than I had expected; mostly seasoned drinkers, it seemed, and although I didn't pay much attention to the other clientele I thought I was probably the youngest person in there by a good twenty years. Anna hadn't taken me up on my invitation to watch the football and had said she wanted to have a look in a few of the shops while I sank a couple of beers. I'd offered to lend her some money in case she came across anything she liked but she'd, perhaps surprisingly, declined my offer, saying she'd come and find me if she found something she really liked. Looking around the bar I could hardly blame her for not wanting to join me; it had the same tired, utilitarian feel as the town itself. Formica tables and bar , and overly bright strip lights gave the place a feel of a community centre rather than a pub but the row of fruit machines, or pokies as they called them here, against one wall and the patrons working their way through pints of lager for the men or half-pints of sherry for the women marked it out as a place dedicated to drinking. I'd turned a few heads when I walked in but no one had paid me much attention after I'd ordered a drink and perched on a stool at the bar. The place smelled of beer, sweat and disinfectant but I wanted a cold drink and a chance to catch up with how my team were performing, halfway across the world. I wasn't going to argue if anyone decided they'd had enough of football and wanted the rugby on.

Halfway through my second beer a scruffy man in his mid-fifties stumbled through the door and staggered towards the bar. He propped himself up and began to drink the beer that the barman had placed in front of him before he had even asked for it. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck as I looked up at the screen and I was dreading the moment he decided I would make a good recipient of his pearls of wisdom. It didn't take long.

"Here, mate," he slurred, "I know who wins this." He had a slight English accent, perhaps dulled by decades in a different country.

"OK," I said, without turning to him, "I don't so don't tell me."

"It's the lot in red."

I rolled my eyes and paused, then looked at him. "Thanks for that, mate," I said.

He grinned at me, his teeth looked brown and rotten, his eyes were bloodshot and glazed. "You don't have to bother watching that shit now," he said, taking another gulp from his glass. "I've done you a favour".

The barman, cleaning a glass with a checked cloth shook his head and looked at the man. "Reg, you're such a bloody idiot, this poor guy wanted to watch the match and you've ruined it."

"Don't worry about it," I muttered, turning back to the screen, "at least it's the right team."

"See, there you go," the old soak said, a satisfied look on his blotchy face, "saved you the bother".

I didn't want to get into any kind of confrontation so I did my best to ignore him and carried on watching the match. I needn't have worried; within a couple of minutes he'd had another beer placed before him and he'd lurched off to annoy someone else.

With any tension sucked from watching the football I focused on trying to enjoy my beer, any form of cold drink being a bit of a treat for me. The atmosphere in the bar wasn't the greatest so I thought about abandoning it and going to look for Anna but we'd arranged to meet there so I slowly sipped and watched, counting down the minutes until I could return to the outside world. I'd realised that I didn't even have her mobile number so contacting her was impossible.

Even if I hadn't caused much of a stir when I walked in, when Anna arrived, things were a different matter. The match was winding down and it had indeed been a straightforward win for my team. I'd finished my second and didn't really want to have to order another, latest taste of New Zealand pubs having sated my appetite for the moment. The door suddenly opened and in walked Anna. Everyone turned to look at the blonde beauty that had entered the room. I certainly noticed, primarily because she was dressed completely differently. My tracksuit bottoms and jokey t shirt had been replaced by a pink halter top and short white skirt. Instead of her trainers she wore some white kitten-heeled sandals that accentuated her slender ankles even more than usual. She must have instigated sexual thoughts in every man in the pub; probably most of the women too. Aside from the involuntary tingling in my groin that almost everything Anna did prompted, two thoughts were foremost in my mind. How had she acquired this new outfit and where the fuck were my clothes? My stomach lurched in panic as I looked to see if my watch had gone the way of the clothes. To my enormous relief it was still there, dangling off her wrist, its size incongruous with her physique.

Anna saw me as soon as she opened the door and, her sexiest smile wide across her face, she walked straight towards me. Every eye in the place was focused on her but she didn't bat an eyelid. Considering the competition it was hardly surprising that she was attracting attention but the way she exuded her sexuality was almost indecent. Whatever method she'd employed to acquire her new attire hadn't stretched to include a bra but then her new top was backless, meaning she couldn't wear one anyway. As she walked her almost gravity-defying breasts bounced inside the thin material, her nipples clearly visible. Her skirt was free-flowing but short, stopping around the mid-thigh area and it too seemed to have a life of its own as she approached me, undulating with her gait, a delicious glimpse of thigh offered by every pace. I wondered if she'd found any knickers on her trip. Somehow I didn't think so.

Anna pulled a bar stool out and perched on it, then placed both her hands on my knees and leaned forward, greeting me with a kiss. I felt the eyes that had tracked her boring into me and instantly felt self-conscious. I realised that parading around with the sexiest girl in town certainly meant it was hard to keep a low profile. Her tongue slipped from my mouth and, her posture perfect on the stool, she caught the eye of the barman, not a difficult endeavour, and ordered a beer. I took her hand and led her round the corner of the bar, behind a pillar, in an effort to be slightly less obvious.

"You seem to have some new clothes," I said. "Err, how?" I hoped the incredulous tone of my voice wasn't lost on the Norwegian.

Anna's face was full of mischief. She ran a finger through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, and took a sip of the beer that had appeared on the bar. "I have my ways," she said, mysteriously.

"Right, OK," I said, "that's great. Umm, where are my things?

Anna laughed, "Surely you're not worried about those old rags? Don't I look better now?"

I suppose if I'd stopped and drawn breath I might have employed some logic rather than emotion. I mean, she did look better in the new outfit but that wasn't the point. I gritted my teeth and hissed, "I don't give a shit, where are my tracksuit bottoms? Eric Cantona gave me those."

Anna looked blankly, then burst into laughter. "Sam, really? I don't know who that is but you must be joking? They were so old and scruffy."

Maybe I was over reacting but this latest act of indifference towards ownership was a step too far. I'd had those for years. Someone I admired had given them to me. They were part of my growing-up. I couldn't help it; I reverted to a child-like state and sulked. I didn't care how hot Anna looked, this time she wasn't going to get her own way.

"What the fuck, Anna? What have you done with them? Where are they? Can you please go and get them back?" I tried to keep my voice low so the whole pub didn't hear our disagreement.

Anna looked at me with something approaching contempt. "I don't know Sam. They're probably in the changing room of the shop. Go and get them yourself."

"Fucking hell, Anna, the whole world doesn't revolve around you, you know." I was seriously pissed off now and my anger was becoming self-perpetuating. I saw a few people looking at me and turned back to the bar, silently fuming. Anna nonchalantly sipped at her beer, a look of innocence and serenity somehow coexisting with her preternatural sexiness.

I glowered for a few more minutes, angered more by Anna's mature response than anything else, I realised. When she'd sulked I'd spent the next couple of hours on eggshells, desperate to try and hold onto her. When I sulked she ignored me.

I slowly began to calm down and think more rationally. She wasn't to know the old clothes had sentimental value and even if her way with my possessions was irritating she was right, I wasn't materialistic so it didn't really matter. As my jaw relaxed and my fists unclenched, however, the more puzzling question of how she'd come to swap outfits came to the fore. My first thought had been that she'd bartered using my watch but, thankfully, that wasn't the case. I just hoped her nymphomania wasn't accompanied by a side order of kleptomania.

Anna had developed an interest in football, after all, and was watching the dying moments of the match. I nodded to the barman that I would have another drink to steady my nerves before tackling Anna.

The final whistle went, to nobody's interest other than mine and Anna's and I took a deep gulp of beer. I put my hand on her back, trying to convey that I wasn't angry any more. Anna turned to look at me as I spoke.

"Sorry I lost my temper then. It doesn't really matter about the clothes. I was just being sentimental."

She gave me that winning smile and put her hand on my knee. "It's OK, Sam, don't worry about it." She looked down at her new outfit and back to me. "So, do you like what I got?"

I admired her yet again, my eyes lingering on her nipples that were doing their best to force their way through her thin top. "You look great," I said. "Amazing, in fact."