Gemma: A Tale of Love

At that, she just laughed and ended up laughing so much she bucked me off her.

Interspersed with the laughter, she managed to say, "You're no virgin; you are possibly the best lover I've ever had and don't think I'm ever going to let you go."

I rolled onto my back, my head resting on the soft comfort of the huge pillow. I drew her to me, and she gave a little sigh of contentment as she curled up against me. One leg was thrown over mine and her head nestled into my shoulder.

Her fingers played with my chest hair as she asked, "What time do you need to be at the hospital?"

"Shift starts at two pm; I'm glad I only need to do one of these late shifts every month so I can get some out of hours experience with emergency cases."

She glanced at the alarm clock on the table beside the bed and "Cool, so I've got you for another few hours. Do you need to go back to your flat?"

I turned a bit to face her, caressing her beautiful breast. "I've got a change of clothes at the hospital so I can go straight there, but aren't you working today?"

"Not until mid-afternoon; there's a show this evening which I have to cover. Can you meet me at the gallery when you finish?"

"I'll get off about nine."

She nodded happily, "Good, I expect it'll go on until after eleven."

Then she ran a finger around her nipple and gave me an expectant look. I bent my head down and sucked on the proffered nipple, and she gasped, and her hand crept down my body to grasp my stirring cock. She smiled as I grew harder under her gentle strokes. She pushed me onto my back and raised herself above my eager waiting cock.

With a long slow deliberate motion, she speared herself on my throbbing flesh. She gave a long guttural cry as I stretched and filled her. Sensations of pleasure rippled through me as I was encased in the soft silky wet embrace of her vagina. Her muscles clutched at me in protest as I filled her, the crown of my cock caressing the depths of her sweet entrance.

She raised her bowed head to look at me, "Ohh, mother, I love you," she gasped, and then groaned as she started rocking. I rolled my hips to meet her every move. Her eyes were unfocused and her mouth open as she grunted rhythmically in tune with our movements. I whispered words of encouragement and she reacted, her movements becoming more aggressive, grinding her pelvis against mine.

We came within seconds of each other, her, first, followed by me pumping my cum inside her as she sucked me dry. She collapsed onto my chest, regaining her breath. Her lips sought mine and we kissed savagely before she worked her way down my body, kissing and licking as she worked her way down to my softening cock. She carefully licked the combination of our essences from me, apparently savoring the taste.

"We taste rather good," she murmured. Taking the last suck, she brought her mouth up to mine to share the last drop. We did taste good, a mix of my saltiness and her much more exotic honey and spice.

As she curled up beside me again, a bead of my cum traced its way down her inner thigh. She dipped a finger in it and brought it up to her mouth, sucking it off.

Again, that wonderful smile of hers lights up her face. "You know you are very special to me don't you," she whispered. "As soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted you, and boy you don't disappoint, do you?"

I grinned back at her and caressed her firm butt, letting my finger drift between the cleft and circle her puckered rose. I felt it twitch and flutter.

"Ohh, you can play with that any time you like," she moaned, as I slipped a fingertip inside.

I gave her a hopeful look, none of my other lovers had ever expressed an interest in anal sex, something I'd always wanted to try.

She read the interest in my eyes. "Yes, I enjoy it," she said in answer to my unasked question. "But only with lovers I completely trust, and they have been very few and far between."

Her hand traced a line down my chest. "You, I would let fuck my ass anytime you want. I'd ask you to let me prepare first, please."

"Huh, how do you prepare?" I had to ask.

She reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Pulling out a shiny black plastic object about five inches long and two inches at its widest with a flared base, plus a tube of KY jelly, she handed the plastic object to me and I was surprised how heavy it was.

"What the hell is it?" I asked.

"It's a butt plug," she told me in answer to my questioning glance. "It helps me relax my muscles. I like to put it in an hour or so beforehand."

She tried to give me a cute and innocent grin but failed miserably. "Hell, I just like wearing a butt plug as it feels so good. Would you like to help a poor girl out?"

She groped in the drawer and removed a second slightly smaller version.

I glanced at the alarm clock and shook my head regretfully, "I so want to do that," I said. "But I don't think we have the time to enjoy it really."

She gave me a disappointed grin and wriggled her oh so cute ass at me. "Arrreee yooou suure," she dragged out trying to entice me with a cute little grin.

"You hussy," I growled as I slapped her butt, then she rolled onto her back. She stared up at me before pulling me on top of her. She wrapped her legs around me locking me in place. My cock throbbed as it was trapped between us. She groaned as she rolled her hips to rub her clit against my shaft.

Her heels pressed down on the back of my thighs as one hand guided me back into the welcoming warmth of her soft slick passage.

This time we moved slowly, the urgency of our early coupling a distant memory. She came several times, soft gentle orgasms that seemed to mean much more to her than any of her earlier earth-shattering ones. Finally, she drew one last orgasm from me before I collapsed beside her.

We were silent for a long time. We just held each other close. Both of us murmured words of love. At last, she rolled over and led me back to the shower. We showered, and I borrowed her pink razor to shave. Gemma found a spare toothbrush for me, and I wasn't too proud to use her rather floral deodorant.

She was dressed when I got back into the bedroom; an elegant cream dress that came down to her mid-thighs and hugged her curves. I whistled in appreciation and she gave me a little curtsy. She grinned and raised the hem of her dress to her waist. A wisp of cream silk barely covered her ass; a matching garter belt fastened below her waist. She knew the correct way to wear them; the panties went over the suspender straps. Nude stockings covered her long legs.

It wasn't her lingerie she wanted me to see. She bent over the end of the bed and eased the gusset of her panties to one side. The black glistening disk of her butt plug nestled between the curves of her buttocks.

I ran my hands over the delicious curves of her butt. My fingertips traced the line of her cleft, lingering briefly over the hard disk. She shivered as I pressed it gently.

She gave me a sultry look over her shoulder, arching her back as my finger returned to play with the disk. "I told you I like using it. Just think how much fun you are going to have removing it tonight."

I cursed as I looked at the clock on the table. Not enough time to play now, and far too long to wait. I picked up my chinos and shirt that lay on the chair in the corner. As I did, Gemma adjusted her panties and pulled her dress down, smoothing the creases with her hands.

"I'll come into town with you," she said as she watched me get dressed. "There are a few bits and pieces I need to catch up with at the gallery. I'll call a taxi, and we can drop you off at the hospital."

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~~

I made it to the hospital with minutes to spare. I had a uniform in my locker into which I hurriedly changed. A&E was heaving when I walked through the door and over to the small X-Ray department tucked at the rear.

"You were cutting it fine," Rachael said as a greeting; then she took in the way I looked. "So your date with the mystery girl from the party was a success I take it?"

"I need coffee," was my answer.

She laughed, took pity on me and made me a mug of instant.

"The milk's off," she said, peering into the fridge.

"Black's fine."

"You look shattered; do you want to tell me about the date?"

I sensed it wasn't a question, more a demand that I wasn't ready to agree to.

I shook my head, "Not yet. I like her, and we're meeting up again later tonight."

Rachael gave me a considered look, then occupied herself restocking the x-ray film cassette trolley

Any further chance for us to talk ended with the arrival of the first patient. There were five of us working the department that afternoon; two senior and a basic radiographer, as well as Rachael and me, both of us first-year student radiographers.

The afternoon flew by. Fortunately, there were no seriously ill patients. I x-rayed a mix of broken bones, sprains and a couple of chests. It's odd, but we rarely thought of patients as people, but rather we defined them by their injuries or illness; the broken wrist in bay two, or the chest infection in cubical one. Over the years I've realized that it's a defense mechanism, a way for medical professionals to insulate ourselves from the horrors of our job.

At five, Rachael's shift finished, and she gave me a hug before she left. After five, most hospital X-Ray departments run with on-call staff. Ours was no different. Two qualified staff and little old me to cover the wards and accident and emergency.

I noticed I've not explained how I work. It sounds like I just walked in off the streets with a magical ability as a radiographer. Far from it, we weren't allowed out of the classroom for the first three months. Only then, after we had satisfied our instructors that we probably wouldn't kill a patient at our fist attempt, were we let loose in the departments on the unsuspecting public. We then disappeared back into the classroom for another block of study every few weeks.

Everything I did was supervised by a qualified radiographer. I was far enough into the course now that often the supervision of the more straightforward examinations consisted of a curt, "go and do that whatever and show me the films before you send the patient off."

That evening, the hospital was quiet, A&E had slowed to a crawl, and I appeared that there were few crises on the wards. I only had one patient in the first two hours, a woman who had fallen stepping off the curb and had broken her wrist.

Seven o'clock found me sitting in the staff room; my feet propped up on the chair opposite. A textbook was open on my lap as I struggled with the complexity of the human heart.

Maggie, one of the radiographers on duty that evening, sat in the comfy chair in the corner eating a sandwich.

She asked, "Have you got anything planned for later?"

I roused myself from my scrutiny of the Circumflex artery to answer her. "I've got a date with a girl I met last weekend."

"Where are you taking her?"

I mentioned the name of the gallery we were meeting at, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I hope you've brought something nice to change into; that's smart set country."

"No, I've just got a clean pair of jeans and a shirt in my locker."

She gave me a pitying look and shook her head. "That's not going to do." She considered me for a moment and then said. "We're quiet, so why don't you slope off early. That'll give you a chance to get something decent to wear."

I didn't need to be told twice. I was out of the door with hurried thanks, and into a taxi on my way to my place in moments.

I got to the gallery at half past eight. I was wearing an old comfy tweed jacket, a hand me down, from my older brother that no longer fit him, a soft blue sea island cotton shirt and a smartish pair of chinos.

There was a fair crowd present, several of whom had spilled out onto the pavement, clutching glasses of wine. As I tried to enter the gallery, an effeminate young man held up his hand and stopped me. He was holding a pen and held a clipboard with a sheaf of papers attached.

"Your name?" he asked in a high voice, glancing up and down me as he spoke.

I gave it to him, and he scanned the typewritten list.

"Sorry there's no Tony Davidson on the list," he said with what seemed a hint of satisfaction.

"Are you sure?" I asked. " Gemma asked me to meet her here."

He gave me a longer look and then flipped to the bottom of the second sheet of paper where a few scrawled handwritten names were visible. He tapped the pen on his teeth before finally deciding that one was mine. He waved me through.

The gallery was made up of three rooms that stretched back away from the road. There seemed to be over a hundred people milling around. Some were inspecting the painting on the walls, most in little groups talking loudly. The paintings in the first room were all abstract blotches of color.

I managed to snag a glass of something red from a tray and went in search of Gemma. I knew she wasn't expecting me for an hour so I guessed she wouldn't be looking out for me.

I found her quite easily and wished I hadn't. She was in the last room. The cream dress clung to her figure like a second skin. The only lighting in that room came from spotlights. Two lit the center of the room in a soft glow. The rest created pools of light on the paintings on the walls. These paintings were a class above the ones in the other rooms, scenes of South Coast beaches in acrylic, a large one of Brighton pier dominating the back wall.

Gemma wasn't alone, yes there were twenty-odd people in the room, but that's not what I meant. She stood in the center of the room, bathed in the soft light. Standing close to a man in his late 40's, and there was an aura of intimacy between them that was unmistakable. I stood against the wall in the shadows between two paintings and watched them. That's when I knew just how much I'd fallen for her because every small gesture between them cut deep into my soul.

I don't know how long I watched them, but my brooding presence must have finally registered on the man's subconscious. He stopped talking and peered around the room, his gaze settling in my direction. Gemma turned to see what he was looking at and saw me.

To my surprise, a huge smile flashed across her face. She grabbed her companion by his arm and dragged him towards me. It wasn't the response I was expecting. What was their relationship?

She hurried over and hugged me, her lips seeking mine and her body grinding against mine in a wordless expression of love. When she finally let me go, she said happily, "You made it, Tony; I wasn't expecting you this early."

"We were quiet, so I got off early," I said stiffly, looking at the man standing beside her.

"Hi, I'm Tony," I said and held out my hand."

"James," he said taking my hand. "And I'm pleased to meet you; Gemma's been telling me all about you."

I was confused, what I had been watching had been the intimacy between two lovers, and they knew I'd seen them. Gemma didn't seem to care and seemed really happy to see me.

My confusion and reticent must have been evident, and both of them were quick to pick up on it. Gemma looked around the room and then taking my hand drew me over to a door set in the far wall. She ushered me into an office and James followed us.

Gemma said, "Tony, you're upset, what's the problem?"

"I don't know, why don't the pair of you tell me."

"Gemma love," James said. "Tony was watching us, and he doesn't understand why you were behaving the way you were with me, while you're telling him you love him."

"Shit," she said. She pushed me back until I was forced to sit down on the sofa that pressed against my legs. She sat down on my lap and pointed James at a nearby armchair.

She held my face between her hands and stared deep into my eyes. "There is only one thing you need to know and that I love you. You know what I used to do. James was one of first my clients when I started out. We haven't had a sexual relationship for nearly two years, but we are still good friends."

"I've been working in Hong Kong this past couple of years," James added. "I only got back into the country two days ago. I didn't even know Gemma was working here until I saw her a couple of hours ago. We were just reminiscing, and she was telling me about the nice man she'd met. I got married while I was away and I've promised my wife that she's the only woman for me. She's here tonight, she and Gemma have met before."

Gemma said, "I don't know if I'm upset that you didn't trust me, or pleased that you're jealous."

"I know what I saw; you've still got feelings for her," I said to James. "I could see it between you."

"Of course I have, I'd be stupid to deny it. My relationship with Gemma was one of the most intense of my life; you can't just forget it, but it was in the past, what you saw was us saying goodbye as I'm moving to Hong Kong permanently."

He stood up, "I'm going to go and find Lynn and see if I can stop her buying too many paintings. Tony, I want you to meet her tonight, then you'll understand why you have nothing to fear."

He bent down and kissed Gemma on the cheek before leaving the office. I sat back, resting my head on the back of the sofa gazing up at the ceiling. My eyes closed and every little bit of anger and jealousy evaporated leaving me limp and anxious.

Gemma sat still and silent, I felt her gaze on me. At last, a fingertip caressed my face. My hand rose of its own volition and mirrored the gesture. I encountered moisture and realized that she was crying. I opened my eyes, and she smiled at me.

She whispered, "I don't think I've ever cried because I'd hurt one of my lovers before. You're the first person who I've had a feeling for; that hasn't been part of my previous life, and those weren't real relationships, more business contracts, and I wasn't emotionally involved with them."

She stopped to get more comfortable on my lap, and I used a tissue to wipe away her tears. She gave me a kiss, and I caressed her long hair, running my fingers through the silken strands.

"James was the exception," she said. "His was the first contract I accepted. I guess by the end I did fall in love with him, and I'm always going to have a soft spot for him, but he's not mine anymore, you are!" She tightened her grip on me.

I said, my voice hesitant, "I'm sorry, watching you with him scared me. He's just the sort of person I thought that you would be attracted to. Rich, powerful, experienced, everything I'm not."

She gave a little smile and said, "I knew just what I was getting when I made you ask me out. I knew that you were someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, that you weren't rich, and I didn't care. I knew all that, within minutes of sitting down beside you on that wall. I still don't care, Tony; it's you I want."

With that, she stood up and held her hand out to me. "I'm supposed to be working," she reminded me. "Come and see what your lover does."

She paused before opening the door to straighten her dress and reapply a hint of makeup, then taking my hand, we entered the hubbub of the gallery. As we did, she whispered, "I've still got our little friend in my ass, I think someone's going to get lucky."

I swallowed and stopped. She walked in front of me, and her ass wiggled in an unspoken promise.

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a promise she was eager to fulfill when we got back to her flat much later that evening.

Gemma had shown me around the gallery, introducing me to the owners before leaving me with James and his wife Lynn, since she was supposed to be working.

Lynn was a beautiful Eurasian woman in her mid-thirties. James had never hidden his relationship with Gemma from her. He told her all about Gemma when he'd proposed to her. It turned out that their visit to the gallery wasn't an accident; Lynn knew the Gemma worked there and had wanted to see her again.