The Bet - Quit Smoking, Win My Body Ch. 02

At least I don't have to keep up any civilised veneer with Ade. "Chance would be a fine fucking thing."

"What do you mean? Oh..."

He cottons on as I burst into tears on his shoulder.

It's not the first time I've cried on Adrian, and probably won't be the last, but I've never been able to smell so much of his reassuring male sweat, before. I like his bare shoulders.

"No chance at all?" he queries once I've called myself enough to blow my nose, sip my whisky and down a glass of water he's fetched me. We're sitting, now, propped up on his fat pillows.

"That's the thing. It might happen. Just hasn't."

"You been under the doctor?"

"Yes. Five years, now."

"Ah. Any... I mean, is it Dave? I mean, just thinking, there's loads of guys would offer... that boyfriend what was your best man... or donors, if you didn't want..."

"It's not him. He's producing beautiful sperm. Firing well on all cylinders, apparently. It's me."

He holds me to his chest for a few more minutes.

"It's the whole stereotype. Uptight career woman, too stressed, can't get pregnant because she's not relaxed enough..."

"Is that what the doc said? Sounds like old wives' bollocks to me."

"The not ovulating was the key bit. So been taking hormones to kick-start a menstrual cycle. Periods, Ade, periods! That worked, only every few months I need re-booting and have to take them again."

"Right. So is that all you can do, take the drugs then get Dave to do his bit at the right time of the month?"

"Pretty much. Only you never know when the right time of the sort-of-month is -- the bleeding is around fourteen days after the egg is ready, so without psychic powers to see when in between three and ten weeks I might be fertile, the only thing to do is try fucking every other day."

His first envious reaction falls as he realises the constraints of that. "Does that not get... I don't know, feeling a bit mechanical?"

"It's OK. We've done OK at keeping it fun, mastering the ten-minute quickie. Taking more time every week or two." I sigh. "I can't pretend it's not taking a toll. I know he's hardly shagging Sheena at all, or anyone else he's been seeing. I've not been seeing anyone but Damien since Becky, and that's not that frequent. I miss the different stuff, you know? The wanting to talk about sex, the anticipation, know what I mean?"

"And this is where I come in? But serious, sweetheart, you can't go on like that for ever. Have you thought about IVF? Or giving up?"

"I'm never doing IVF. My mental health wouldn't stand for it, and the hormones... The stuff they have me on just to trigger ordinary ovulation -- it has side effects. Not as bad as the meds to produce a period first..."

"What happened?" I'm chuckling, so he's curious.

"Well, part of PMT is hormones telling you to fuck anything in sight and be pissed off if they won't. Imagine that, dialled up to eleven... My god, I was having to sit on my hands on the Tube so I didn't grope anyone gorgeous! And suddenly ninety percent of the carriage seemed gorgeous too..."

"Oh god!"

"Yeah. I was just about coping, then second time I was on it I had to go to a meeting near Hyde Park. Mounted police. I went down this alley and there's this cop in his black jodhpurs and shiny black riding boots..."

"Nice..."

"Exactly! Right next to me, and I'm gripping my coat pockets so I don't end up grabbing his inner thigh..."

"Wise. Don't grope cops without asking. Good rule for life."

"And then he swings himself up onto his horse so I get a huge eyeful of the inside leg on both sides, and the package at the top, and his arse..."

"Mmm..."

"You can't imagine how good it looked. Only I swear I was burning up inside, with the effort not to pull him back off his horse! He trotted off quickly; I have never been so relieved in my long life!"

"Oh, dear! Poor you."

"And the hormones for IVF are about ten times as strong, to get you to superovulate. So, just, no."

I knock back the rest of the whisky. "So I figure I'll give it a go until I'm forty, then resign myself to the happy DINKY lifestyle with lots of fancy holidays with Dave, being a disreputable aunt to Jack and Rosie and any other kids the gang produce."

"Nanny Ogg, basically?" He's got a cheeky glint in his eye, and I pull his ear and tweak it.

In response, he uses his legs to hold me down while he pushes me onto my stomach, and then sits on my ankles as he examines my outfit. He's running his hands up the stockings, tentatively pressing at the bare skin at the tops as if he were a naive teenager again, unsure how far he'd be permitted to go.

"Seamed stockings. Nice," he comments. Then he must have caught sight of my arse where my skirt had ridden up, as he calls out, "Whoa!"

His hands leap up to my bum cheeks, thumbs running down the edges of the little thong, then over the scrap of fabric. "I'm gonna have to readjust my fantasies, you realise. I'd always been thinking of you in far more sensible undies."

"You know how you're told clean underwear is vital in case someone sees it? Well, I figure if someone's definitely going to see it... Special occasion."

"I'm honoured, I truly am." He drawls the words out, hokey cowboy -- Irish freedom fighter? - all 'ah am', and I feel myself getting wet even before he touches me over sensitive bits.

And then I'm getting wetter. I hadn't really expected much, but he's diving in there, sinking his face between my legs, inhaling, loving it, pressing with fingers where that damp cloth is, kneading my arse.

"Turn over."

I obey. Why wouldn't I?

He lays his hand down over the crotch of my pants again, this time able to find my clit through them and circle it with one finger.

"Gotta feel sorry for Linz and Will, having us two influencing their kids," he says.

"Naah. It'll be -- aah! - good for them. Stop Will being so -- oh, yeah... - pompous git."

He grins and sucks one nipple, letting his hand continue driving me mad. Then he shifts to use his other hand on my tit, pinching gently but not letting it drop, so I'm pushing my groin into his fingers while he continues conversationally, "Be harder with Stu's kid. Can't see him or Julie being so welcoming of bad influences."

Julie's also a determined up-and-coming civil servant, with a temporary Directorship under her belt. She's lovely, but you don't cross her. I should put a fiver on her becoming the first black Permanent Secretary. I get the impression her word is law in their house. Though with maternity, who knows? Stu might become a trailblazer for taking his paternity leave and then some, or maybe she'll take a few years out and take over the school PTA?

Ade continues, "One thing's for sure, they won't have nearly so much time to do things like this... you'd best enjoy while you can..."

He's right, of course he's right, and with what he does with his body weight over my thighs, his hands and his face, his hair brushing over my sensitised skin, I'm not arguing. Not at all.

We're lounging in the bed still, with another excellent whisky -- a cask strength Ardbeg, glass of water on the side. I agree, a teaspoonful opens it up no end, letting the various notes shine out rather than being lost under the alcohol. And Adrian's bare chest is next to mine, my arm rests on his denim-clad thigh, and he's as relaxed as I've ever seen. I could really get used to this, hanging out with him, not having to worry about the sexual tension at all, because the tension's all gone, replaced by open curiosity and discovery.

It's really nice. I get dressed again reluctantly when it's time to head home, though I'm also looking forward to getting home and getting a damn good rogering from Dave! I'm nearly ready when it occurs to me.

"That Dan you saw again -- seen him since at all?"

That quirk of Ade's mouth must be a smile he's hiding. "Aye," he says curtly.

"Uh-huh. Going to see him again?"

A moment as he looks up, to his left, considering lying. Decides against. "Aye. I am."

I don't need to have known the guy twenty years to tell he doesn't want to talk about it because he's terrified of jinxing it. Bless him.

"That's nice. Him not bailing when he saw me that first time was a good sign, I thought."

"Aye, he's got balls. Anyway, that you? Safe home, text us when ye get in. Regards to Dave."

I spend the train journey from London Bridge sexting Dave, who pounces on me the moment I'm through the door, and does a great job of fucking me senseless. For once, I'm relieved to shove a pillow under my arse and lie back for ten minutes, attempting to give his sperm their best possible chance to get to my probably non-existent egg.

Great sex does exist. I try to count my blessings and focus on that.

It's nearly midnight when I get a text from Adrian -- I forgot to message him when I got home.

'You OK, woman?'

I tap fast. 'Very much. Sorry, just had to let Dave do his duty, and all that.'

'You mean he fucked you senseless'

'One could put it that way.' 'If one were a crude dirty-talking Irish bastard.'

'That great ten inch cock of his. Bet you had no problem taking it all, you were so wet when you left.'

'You know, I've never measured. How do you know, anyway?'

'Saw him in the gents at some shindig. Its a crying shame hes straight.'

'Diddums! Oh, he says it is ten inches and thanks for the compliment and for warming me up.'

'Any time, doll.'

'He says congrats on quitting. Keep it up, I'll see you again soon.'

'Night night. xx'

Life pootles along for the next month. I chat to Ade each week, send him bad-taste jokes off the internet. He concedes that he has seen Dan a few more times, but won't go into any more detail than that. His desperation not to jinx the thing they have going speaks volumes.

A painful period, more blood tests. My arm must look like a junkie's. Dave takes a couple takes off and we indulge in some rare filth, to help me forget.

Five days to go before I have my date with Adrian.

Adrian calls for a chat, which descends rapidly into the gutter. His fault. Then he had to share his newly discovered fact.

"You know, they say if a woman gets fucked by two men, even if the first is wearing a condom, it increases her chances of getting pregnant by the second one. The route becomes easier, or something," he claims.

"I'm still not fucking you."

"No, that's not what I meant! Not unless you ask me to. Just, if you were interested, there's objects that could be used, might have the same effect, or just make you a happy wee bunny..."

I changed the subject after that. Even if I couldn't stop thinking about his suggestion of applying things to my fanny that might have a side effect of assisting Dave's swimmers.

It's finally Saturday. I'm looking forward to this evening.

I've been considering Adrian's hands. He does have remarkably small hands for a man. No-one's fisted me since Becky left the country.

I went to have a little chat with Dave.

Dave's take on it is, if it's not a cock in my cunt, eat my heart out. He's never really understood the attraction of sex toys for such purposes, and winces at the very idea of whole hands, but then his hands are massive and he very much believes penetration is something that should only happen to other people. He says goodnight, with a typical, "you're weird, you are, but I love you."

I texted Ade this morning, to perk him up, with a suggestion. Don't want him thinking about work on a weekend, after all. 'If it's not a live dick inside me, anything goes. Bring it on.'

I follow up with, 'Same for you?'

Not that I was planning on pegging him or anything, but I'd love to see him all open for anything. The sight of him dropping to his knees in front of Dan, like it was the most natural thing in the world, sweeping his hair back behind his ear and sinking that whole cock into his mouth, has featured in a fair few fantasies of mine. I'll let him think on it.

I get a message back at lunchtime. 'Whatever. Hadn't thought much beyond your mouth over my cock. I'm a bear of little brain.'

I can't see Ade as Winnie-the-Pooh himself. Maybe, when he's happy, being the good host. Kanga, more like. Bit of Tigger, bit of Eeyore...

Anyway, this time I go for comfortable jeans, top and warm jumper, trainers, just some underwear I think he'll like and I know Dave will, later. Slightly dressy, but not at all dressed up.

Ade raises an eyebrow that promises the world, while surprised I'm not wearing anything fancier, and comes over to give me a big hug.

"I know, pet, but I didn't want you to think I mightn't deliver on my promise." Why dress up if you're only taking the clothes off?

I return his hug. He's looking well. Like he's been eating properly, as well as not smoking. Possibly a bit agitated, but not surprising in the circs. I point at his little wire glasses.

"Nice specs. Thought you only used them for work?"

"Eh, just catching up a bit, I was. It's been mental this last couple weeks, new big client we couldn't say no to. I've got a new minion starting soon, though. Wait til I tell ye, though! She knows Gareth!"

"What? How?"

"He's been mentoring students -- sixth-formers online, then once she got to uni, they invited him to the LGBT soc to do one of those inspiring talks, y'know?"

Britain's most eligible gay barrister. Guess he wouldn't mention that bit. "Good for him. So when does she start?"

"Two more weeks, and not before time! Everyone's pitching in, but most of it, it's got to be me and Naz, though Sam does what he can. Working til nine, ten, most nights." That's what he used to say at college, so I add an extra few hours a day onto that. This had better be a short-term workload.

"You're looking remarkably well in the circs. That desk wasn't there before, was it?"

"Been moving stuff about."

"Uh-huh. S'pose you want a good setup in your office, if you're working all hours."

"Aye," he says, sounding a bit guilty. "Look, there's pie and veg and stuff ready in the fridge -- could ye get dinner going while I finish what I was doing? Be about ten minutes?"

"No worries. See you in a bit."

He disappears into his office, closing the door like he's right stressed. I figure out his oven and put the dishes in it, Borough Market and M&S's finest. Forty minutes for them to cook. I look at the tall bookcase he's put in the corner. Various design and software manuals that must be for work. Bunch of audio books, which I hadn't expected would be his thing, but there's stuff I know he likes, Pratchett, Cadfael, Hitchhiker. Shiny Mac on the desk -- I'd have expected a PC for gaming and other non-work matters, but then he's the kind of guy who might be an Apple aficionado. I heard Civilisation and popular stuff like GTA were available for Macs, now, anyway.

I poke around the kitchen a bit -- plenty of options for pudding; he's been shopping. Some nice new steel saucepans out on the counter. Perhaps he has been splashing out with the dosh he's saved by not smoking, after all?

I connect to his WiFi, with details he's handily stuck up on the fridge -- the network's called Fuckoffyoucheapskatebastard, password yesyouatnumbertwelve, suggesting history with the upstairs neighbour. Adrian emerges a moment before the oven timer goes off.

"Really sorry. Anyway, that's me for the weekend, I hope."

He looks like he's lying, probably going to work half of the next two days, but at least he's got a new assistant to look forward to. "Hope you like roast veg. There's a good mixture there if you want to pick any out.

"No problem. Love the lot," I assure him.

"Grand. Pie's steak and mushroom, d'you want half or a third?"

"A quarter'll be plenty!"

"Sorry, forget dainty women's appetites. Here you go, cheers for that," as I flick two fingers vigorously at him. "You want the grape or the grain tonight?"

"I'll have water now, whisky later, unless you have something that would enhance the meal?"

"Of course." He rolls his eyes and bustles over to the dresser, which has a couple new additions. The top tier's been moved around and dusted, too. What's he been celebrating? "Try this Talisker -- it's often served with haggis on Burns Night, all a bit peppery, so should work..."

It does. I pace myself though, two glasses of iced water as well, and so does he. Good sign, not rushing the booze.

He eats faster than me, as usual. "So," he says. "Interesting texts you sent me this morning."

I know I'm blushing. And that that was his intent.

"Not that this night wouldn't have been fun anyway. So show us. What's under all those clothes?"

"Oi, let me finish eating! Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing how your cute little arse has weathered the years." Two can play the embarrassment game.

While he clears his plate to the sink, I sneakily slide my jeans down to the floor. He won't notice unless he looks under the table. Adrian returns to the table via acquiring a second dram, sits back down opposite.

"You want to see my body? It's no' really worth looking at, an' all."

"I'll be the judge of that. Get that shirt off."

He co-operates, adding "you, too," once the third button is undone. Once the shirt is hanging open, showing flashes of a perfectly nice chest, I pull off my jumper and let my top come away with it. I did put on the snazzy scarlet camisole bra for him to see, after all.

"Nice." He lets his shirt slide off his arms. He's got perfectly good shoulders and all, too.

I wriggle my feet out of my trouser legs and walk round to him, careful my stockinged feet don't slip on the marble floor.

He pushes his chair back from the table and I set myself down on his lap.

That giant smile is wider than Winnie-the-Pooh ever grinned at a honeypot. As he puts his arm round me, I feel his sudden erection pressing against my leg. Played for and got!

"You've dressed for the occasion after all, so you have."

"I wouldn't like to disappoint. Besides, it's not like this lingerie gets seen much. It's nice to have it appreciated."

"I'm appreciatin' it, all right. Thon's real pretty."

"I can tell."

He laughs. "Come on, woman, get a drink and let me take you to bed."

I try the eighteen-year-old Highland Park in a fresh tumbler, and follow him to the bedroom. He's peeled off his trousers and is lying back with his glass.

He has the great legs you'd expect from a cyclist, with a few scars -- a couple look more like knife wounds than traffic accidents, but I'm not going to ask. Open legs show off lovely thighs I have to get my hands on, soon as my drink is safe on the bedside table.

Oh yes, great thigh muscles... I leave my right hand clawed in his sartorius while I lie back next to him. He's got briefs on as usual, also from the to-be-seen section of the underwear drawer; snug, black and slightly silky.

They prove he's got the cute little arse he had as a student, still. The cycling must help.

On his back, sweeping his hair off his face -- it needs a trim or it'll look like a bob, soon -- other leg bent. It's a glorious sight, with his come-hither smile glowing at me.

"Hallo, gorgeous," I tell him.

"And yourself, darlin'. Like what you see? Not too girly?"

"I like girls. And you're not. Though, let's check..." I slide those slinky pants down, over his cock and over his legs.

His cock is standing to greet me. It looks curiously featureless, until I tentatively reach to touch and it explodes out like a jack-in-the-box.

Adrian laughs at my shock. "You never seen a tight foreskin before?"

"Not like that! Usually when I meet cocks, they're already like this, ready and waiting." I put my hand on his shaft and can't really tell that the foreskin is snugger than most. It looks normal, now, nice brownish head in proportion, whole thing in proportion to the rest of him. Not huge, but if he's taking me up the rear next time, that's probably good.