Ms Thomas' Guide to Lovemaking

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The seductive alchemy of the carefree ebony cougar.
9.5k words
4.56
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 04/09/2018
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PanzerFeck
PanzerFeck
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Author's Note:

My most enjoyable project as of late, this is a very talkative piece with the emphasis on new friendships and that certain chemistry. It's very dialogue driven, carefully paced, and might feel a bit like a sitcom at times. All characters are over the age of 18!

*****

1

Aaron Bench had brought a new girlfriend to the party. Yes, another one. A devilish little voice hidden in the shadows of his brother Michael's secret mind contemplated smiling, shaking her hand in such a gentlemanly fashion, before declaring, 'Hello, January, nice to meet you...'

She would have been best described as elfish, and that would have been quite enough said before swiftly moving on. There was not much else to her. If there was, though, and had Michael wanted to do her justice, he would have called added the words cute, blonde, and reserved.

Otherwise had Michael put his psychology smarts to use, he'd have added the words deceptively sweet and innocent, with an emphasis on the deceptive.

He saw how her "Plain Jane" expression slyly transformed as his brother whispered incoherently against her ear. The schoolgirl was not quite exorcised from within this very young-looking nineteen-year old. No doubt Aaron had put himself up to the task and was doing everything within his power - so basically his penis - to ruin said schoolgirl.

Her name was not January. Her name, ironically, was April - April Dodd. Had Aaron skipped forward four months or would January come along in April? These were the important questions.

House parties though...

If anything the brothers Michael and Aaron would agree on, despite their differences, this was no house party. For some reason or other, their mother Victoria wanted them there, for work's belated Christmas party.

Yes, the men had processed this, each of their own accord. The late Christmas party for the recently expanded Victoria's Hair & Beauty was taking place in early January, in Victoria's house. Thankfully only half of Vicky's employees would turn up.

The rest had social lives.

Neither Michael nor Aaron appreciated having to keep up appearances just so that their mother could pinch pennies. Of course, Aaron was outgoing to the extreme of arrogance, so that didn't bother him. He wanted to be seen and heard. Attention stealing was his bread and butter.

Michael on the other hand...

Well Michael dreaded these things. He dreaded being the centre of attention, let alone being stuck where he didn't want to be when he wasn't under the spotlight; even if he didn't have an excuse not to be there. It made him feel like a child-hostage, unable to claim his right to be a free man.

And with the calibre of party guests in attendance, a gaggle of nattering middle-aged mothers and a couple of men in-between, compensating in loudness for what they lacked in quality of conversation - and being the stepping stone and soapbox of his older brother's ego - this could have been one long night in the making.

Michael had never in his life been subject to so much hairspray and perfume all at once. Elaine, Gaynor, Pauline, Jolene, and his mother combined, were in direct violation of Geneva Convention rules against chemical warfare. Mustard gas might have been a breath of fresh air in contrast.

The men's colognes - those of Gaynor's husband Gordo, a towering carrot-haired Scot, Pauline's short-arsed and short-sighted old Jeff, and Aaron who was dressed for elbow-dancing in his Ben Sherman and Burberry - paled in comparison, and yet combined to create a sickly fug that had Michael losing a battle of windows, doors, open-close, open-close, open-close.

Where was the UN-backed rescue?

2

Out of the snowdrift came his saviour!

The party had been crammed into the medium-sized kitchen up until then, forcing Michael into his airless corner and - what a surprise - with nobody to really talk to without feeling the burn of eyes upon him, helpless to do anything other than to absently nod along to god knows what anybody was talking about.

With a collective shiver the thrumming pile of mouthy polyester, glitter and perfume received an icy blast as the house's front door opened.

Faces contorted and looked that way, beyond the kitchen door, to see who it was - rudely interrupting good times with their chilly introduction. Nobody was making the effort to go and welcome their last guest of the evening, though, not even the boys' mother.

Michael wormed his way out of the kitchen, through the swarming crowd, using the arrival of a new guest as his excuse to vacate the area.

'Hey guys, it just me,' he heard a feminine but smoky voice call out from the vestibule, accompanied by the sound of kicking boots. He was struck by the sight of such unexpected beauty when he saw her. And then their eyes met.

Under the beam of the hallway light her ebony skin somehow glowed so softly. In the long wild curls of her raven-black hair, and all over her faux fur-lined leather parka, snowflakes twinkled like diamonds.

Her dark features were soft and smouldering, almost cherubic with the round curve of her cheeks and small but full lips. Her eyes, dark and intense like a warm chocolate liqueur, warmed him as she smiled. And behind her, the door still open, the night swirled with all the fairytale nuance of a novelty snow globe.

Well, Michael was prone to romanticising the little things.

'Hi,' she chimed, though apologetically as she kicked the snow from her leather boots against the doormat.

'Hey,' Michael responded disarmingly, making his way across the hall to close the door, and then to help with her coat. 'Let me get that for you.'

'You're such a helpful virgin,' his brother remarked from the kitchen doorway, which earned the laughter of the women stood behind him, all but for April who pursed her lips preventively. Michael met him with an ungrateful glare.

'Your name is?' the woman asked. His gaze, returned to hers, was now suddenly nothing more than obligatory. He hooked her coat into a hanger and put it up with the others.

'Michael,' he smiled thinly, and it hurt him to become so short with her. Still, somehow her eyes - mellow and wise - warmed him with gratitude. 'One of Vicky's,' he chatted casually, before adding, 'the one with the manners.'

'Vanessa Thomas,' she replied amiably, holding out her hand to shake, which he did so tenderly; 'Always a pleasure to meet a good-looking young man with manners!'

He considered himself flattered and gently received her hand before inviting her into the kitchen with the rest of the guests. Soon the party relocated to the living room. Michael stayed in the kitchen a while after that, the droning conversations on family life and teenagers, no doubt influenced by the brothers' interactions, gradually and thankfully drowning out.

3

'What are you doing?' Aaron challenged with sly insinuation as he chauffeured the very, very young-looking April into the empty kitchen. Michael was stood there, his back to the kitchen sink, with a glass of white wine, silently contemplating things. He responded only with a wary expression, which April noted with masked unease.

'Do I need to be doing anything?'

'It's a party, bro, make an effort!'

Michael rolled his eyes. Aaron - who at twenty-nine, was ten years older than his current girlfriend - then shrugged but with a cocky look as he quietly snickered into April's ear, which stood out a loud pink against her flat blonde locks.

Aaron poured her a Jager-bomb, and then another, and then handed her one of her little bottles of red alco-pop from the fridge. She'd be drunk before the evening was half-done, Michael guessed, and didn't wonder why his brother wanted her that way.

'Fancy a bit of black, eh,' Aaron remarked under his breath as he turned to his brother and winked. Of course, how could Michael forget? He couldn't even make himself useful without being made a laughing stock. 'I wouldn't,' he added. 'Just no!'

'You wouldn't what?' Michael challenged.

Again Aaron shrugged. 'Fucking black women,' he said under his breath; 'they're just...'

'They're just what?' Michael asked, growing uneasy.

'Just nah, lad,' Aaron struggled. There were no words that wouldn't have been offensive.

'No, please share,' Michael challenged immediately. 'They're just what? They're just... black?'

Michael made a point to grab April's attention with an inviting eye, but she wasn't biting. And when Aaron saw her back out, he did too. April then disappeared back into the living room without him. Feigning a shudder of disgust; 'Each to their own,' Aaron said and smirked over his shoulder at April.

'I took her coat,' Michael reminded him coldly.

'I'm only fucking messing with you,' Aaron dismissed playfully. He himself was already buzzed, and likely outmatched by his new toy. Speaking of which...

'She is very young by the way,' Michael noted uncomfortably, taking the context back to April. Aaron's smile in response was thick with smugness. 'I wouldn't really touch that now at twenty-five,' Michael stressed. 'Maybe if I was your age and she was six years younger...

'But nah, lad! Just no!'

'Well maybe you're just a prude because you're still a virgin at twenty-five,' Aaron, the vulgar cliché of every fuckboy in existence suggested. All the young girls seemed to fall for it, though. 'I'm just an equal opportunities love machine,' he joked, pumping his fists and gyrating his hips.

Behind him, Vanessa's face was a show of bewilderment. She blinked hard as if hoping not to see what she was seeing when she would open her eyes again. When she did, the other brother was still humping the air, while Michael was trying not to grin from ear to ear.

'I'm sorry you had to see this, Vanessa,' he called out to the woman standing in the doorway, shrugging apologetically as he did. 'Have you met my brother? Aaron isn't quite right in the head. He was strangled at birth, but our parents stopped me halfway and so, sadly, he survived.'

4

Aaron had skulked off with a red face, which he had tried to hide with a grin that insisted he wasn't ashamed. Michael savoured that moment - the moment that a grown man-child had felt shame and could not hide it. This Vanessa woman might definitely be his saviour after all.

Vanessa was now chuckling under her breath as Michael poured her a chilled wine. He found himself incredibly fascinated by her, and wasn't ashamed to accept that, yes, he did find her very attractive. Vanessa, who wore a snug black dress under a thin long-sleeve black tie-up top, and tights, otherwise glittered and glowed with modest allure.

She wore bronze eye-shadow and blusher which complimented her smoky dark appeal. The tiny diamond studs in her ears, and the simple silver chain and pendant she wore around her neck contrasted neatly.

The gentleman that he was, Michael quietly observed everything about Vanessa so not to stare blatantly at the busty preview that topped her curvaceous 5'4" hourglass figure, almost verging on the burlesque.

Well he did look and she noticed because they were standing right before each other. He handed her glass, filled to within half an inch of the brim.

'I find it hard to believe you work with those women in there,' he found himself saying, and wondering if it came off as crude. After all, what if she was the fiercely loyal type? But then he had never met her before. He had met the others a number of times.

She didn't answer him. Then again it hadn't been a question. He went on. 'You're very different.'

Sipping her wine, Vanessa arched her eyebrows questioningly. Then she thought about it. 'You think so?'

'Yeah, you have character,' he complimented, and then, double-whammy; 'Very stylish!' Michael flushed red, making it no secret that he was quite shy. Vanessa might have found that cute, but unlike him she wasn't showing it.

'Aww, thank you, really?' Vanessa looked down on herself. She wasn't even trying. Maybe if the party had gone out on the town, or to a nice restaurant.

Was there any other way to say it without coming across as a tactless flirt? He wanted to say that he liked her style. 'I like it. You work with what you've got.'

She smiled. She might even have been blushing, but he didn't see it. 'Like I don't paint myself as a cheesy Dorito?' she asked unexpectedly. Michael snapped his head to the side and covered his mouth to laugh, before he would spray her with wine.

Disarmingly, and sensing that her young friend was a little anxious, even if just socially, Vanessa suggested that maybe, since she was just dressing comfortably, it was more a matter of taste than of style. Still she appreciated hearing in so few words that she could look good without trying.

'So are you enjoying the Trump-face convention here so far?' Michael referred. Vanessa smirked, stifling a laugh. She shook her right hand from side to side. 'Comme-ci, comme-ca,' Michael randomly translated. Vanessa came off impressed.

'So why are you standing alone in the kitchen?' she asked. 'Do you do this at every party?'

'I prefer one-to-ones and smaller bunches, yeah,' he said. 'People who talk sense.'

Vanessa went from a smile to a frown and nodded. 'I noticed that. You shouldn't leave yourself out though because your brother's a dick. Give as good as you get,' she said and invited him to go back with her. Obligingly he followed.

5

'Aye-aye, where have you two been?' Gordo challenged boisterously as they returned to the living room. Avoiding eye-contact with everyone, especially his quietly observant mother, Michael found himself staring at the defined curves of Vanessa's calves, supported snugly by the high fleece-lined cuffs of her winter boots.

'We've been getting to know each other,' Vanessa replied innocently, more concerned with finding a seat. Aaron just had to scoff aloud and make it awkward. Vanessa deflected it easily, though, adding; 'It's nice to have a conversation with a handsome young man whose idea of communicating doesn't consist of thrusting his cock at people...'

Vanessa stopped talking, looked Aaron dead in the eye, and let connotation do the rest. Everyone in the room was now looking at Aaron, whose first reaction was to defend himself. Now it was Michael who was laughing as he insisted Vanessa take the last seat.

'Then again, Aaron has always been like that,' their mother said absently.

'While Michael is still a virgin,' Aaron retreated. Jeff laughed, perched on the arm of the sofa. Others smiled, but didn't laugh along. Aaron who almost always commanded the room when it came to telling jokes, was suddenly on bad form.

'How's university going, Mikey?' Elaine piped up in her plainest tone, suggesting that maybe she was forcing the conversation onward.

'I passed,' Michael declared, mockingly raising a fist to glory.

'Oh, excellent,' Elaine responded, almost emotionlessly.

'Yep, two and a half years ago now,' Michael added, straining at the reigns of sarcasm. Gordo covered his face with one huge bony hand, stifling his own laughter. Fucking hell, he thought. It's like nobody even knows me. Vanessa could read that much on his face. What was the deal with this family?

'Been doing nothing with it ever since,' Aaron chided. Michael bit his tongue.

6

Michael was stood quietly leaning against the wall, drink in hand, and outside the circle. It was either that or sit on the floor, cross-legged, which his mother had actually suggested so that he didn't feel left out. If anything would have made him feel more comfortable, she could have just not spoken to him.

Within the circle things weren't any better. This party was starting to feel more like tea and cake at the old peoples' home. Michael could tell that April didn't want to be there, especially when the guests casually started to talk about getting married and having kids. And true to form, Aaron had his head in his iPone, staying well away from that concersation.

Vanessa couldn't get a word in edgeways. Michael made the attempt a couple of times to help her engage, which she appreciated, but it was all in vain. She was getting restless, and then gradually losing interest - something he could easily relate to.

Welcome to my life, he thought. Enjoy your stay, and condolences!

Now it was Jeff's turn to speak, and he was talking - as he always did - about how much money he made in buying company shares. Jeff loved to talk about money. Jeff loved people to hear about how happy money made him and Pauline...

Michael had to get out. Once more he made eye contact with Vanessa. They attracted like magnets instantly. His mouth dry, his back hot from standing near the radiator, he peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth and dared to speak just loud enough so that she could hear him.

'Do you want a refill?' he suggested, holding up his glass.

Everybody else in the room was oblivious. It seemed they love hearing about money just as much. 'Have you got anything stronger?' she almost pleaded, but politely. Michael smirked and tilted his head, signalling for her to follow.

'I'm so fucking bored,' she whispered desperately.

'Cool, let's fucking kill ourselves,' Michael comically suggested. Vanessa laughed under her breath and nodded frantically. 'What's your poison?' he asked, reaching for the spirits.

'Actually, is there somewhere I can go to have a smoke?'

There was nowhere indoors. His mother abhorred smoking of any kind. Speak of the devil, Vicky sauntered in, her eyes fixed on Vanessa.

'Everything okay, love?' she asked. Michael knew the tone of her voice simply from life experience. As if she gave a shit about Vanessa. She cared more about her party. God forbid if anyone came off as less than grateful.

'Yeah, I'm just going to grab some air,' Vanessa replied. 'I'm getting high off all this hairspray and perfume,' she laughed. Michael noted how the tone of her voice changed when she spoke with his mother.

Maybe it was a work thing, the way people edit out their private selves and instead absorb the personality of the workplace. Then again, so many signals were lost on Michael's mother, the same way that different animals hear different frequencies. Reason was also lost on Victoria quite a lot.

'But it's snowing outside,' Vicky raised her tone in disbelief.

'Yes it is,' Vanessa positively beamed.

'Wouldn't you rather stay in the warm with us?' Victoria asked. It sounded even to Michael that she was going straight for the guilt card. Wow, so it wasn't just him she did this to.

'Mum, she just wants to have a smoke,' he interjected.

'Michael can keep me company and tell me about university,' Vanessa replied, and then, 'don't worry, I'll be back!'

Vicky turned to her son, eyes suddenly narrowed with suspicion. 'She could use the indoor bar at the bottom of the garden,' Michael suggested helpfully.

'It's snowing,' she repeated.

'Yes mum, not indoors!'

Victoria turned her attention back to Vanessa. 'Do you have to smoke?'

'Mum,' Michael scolded. 'You let Uncle Gary smoke in there at the summer barbecues!'

'Uncle Gary built it. I couldn't tell him what to do in it,' Vicky admitted with indignation, but after a pause too long, she must have realised how she came across.

'Do you have to tell your friend what to do?' Michael stressed. Vanessa wanted to laugh, but something told her that it wouldn't have been appreciated.

'Okay,' Vicky crumbled, as easily as a pile of table salt; 'Just don't be too long.'

7

They had a good lengthy back garden. Unlike most of the neighbourhood they even sported a couple of sycamore trees - not the frail little things lining the main roads, but grand old things that towered above the rooftop of the three-floor house.

Through the night Michael led Vanessa across the snow-laden lawn. It was already up to four inches thick. Their feet crunched softly in it as they made their way to the very back, where the L-shaped bar stood like a glorified wooden shed, painted like a beach hut abandoned to winter.

PanzerFeck
PanzerFeck
1,534 Followers