What She Wanted

Jack turned his attention to Rachael. He grabbed her hand, pulled her aside, whispered into her ear. 'You know your supermarket fantasy?'

She pulled back, raised an eyebrow at him. 'Yes.'

'We can make it come true,' he grinned. 'My friend runs the local Sainsbury. It's just a little one with no night shift. He said if we come at 9pm, we can fuck ourselves stupid amid the courgettes.'

'We'll talk about this later,' she said, a little frostily. 'Here is not the time or the place.'

They talked, or rather argued mildly about it the day after at their usual Friday night-in. She was a little unimpressed that he'd talked to someone about her fantasy, rather unsure about the practicalities of it. His friend might see, someone outside might see, a fantasy is sometimes only a fantasy and so on.

He patiently allayed her fears.

'Mike gives his word he'll lock himself away in his office at the back. No-one else will come into the shop, because of the store layout - the door essentially being on the side – no-one will be able to see us from the outside. We'll ring Mike when we're done, slip quickly out of the back entrance and he'll lock up when we're gone. No risk. Then every time you go round Sainsbury you'll be able to remember having my cock buried inside you when you pick up the courgettes.

She was coming round to the idea. 'I'm more likely to remember you when I pick up the cucumbers,' she smiled. It was a weak smile, but he knew she'd forgiven him.

'When?' she asked.

'Mondays are the best time. It's quiet in the store and he has weekly stuff he can do once closing time has gone.

She looked hesitant. 'Mondays aren't good for me.' He always wondered what she did on weeknights, but she'd never been very forthcoming.

He sighed silently. Waited.

'OK, let's do it this Monday,' she relented, secretly very excited.

This Monday, ironically, wasn't great for him; he had a gig the day after and a particularly tricky solo he really needed to practice, but he wasn't going to risk stalling. He was really into this idea now. He'd found it funny that he now needed something a little more risky to enjoy the sex with this gorgeous woman as much as he used to.

'Great,' he said. 'I'll sort it out.'

'Now,' she said, a gleam in her eye, 'I bought some lovely silk hankies today, you're going to tie me to the chair here and fuck me in front of the fireplace. Would be better in the winter with a real fire, but this will suffice.'

In the end, he tied her arms to the legs of the big old armchair and her legs to the legs of the small sofa. She pleaded with him to rip her clothes off and fuck her hard, as she lay, spread in front of him. His heart, in truth, wasn't in it, but he put on a great act for her: ripped her shirt open, buttons popping open, some breaking off to reveal her breasts – she was braless as always on these nights – and he bit hard on her nipples as she squirmed beneath him. She pleaded him to stop, but silently implored him to continue. A reluctant anger grew inside him, this wasn't what he wanted from a relationship, no matter how drop dead fucking gorgeous a girl was, this wasn't really him. He pulled hard at her elasticated skirt and ripped the panties from her hips, a rent through the cheap white cotton material.

'Fuck me,' she screamed.

He fucked her. No gentility at all.

He was a little sad as they lay post coital. Her laying splayed out, tied by each of her appendages, gasping for breath; him laying on her shoulder, wanting for intimate tenderness.

The spark of their relationship was dying. He could feel it. When he untied her though she was glowing.

'Jack, that was so good, I can't wait for Monday night.

At that very moment, he could.

What a contrast to those first days; time when he wanted to be in a cocoon, waiting for time to slip peacefully away until he could be with her. Now, the time rushed by until he was next with her, until he could have his next bout of meaningless sex with an unflawed beauty. This was fucked up.

'She still makes my dick hard,' was the thought as he waited outside Sainsbury in the small shopping centre. She is still the most outrageously beautiful woman. Most men would kill to be in his position he argued with himself, so make the most of the evening.

She arrived, right on time, wearing a short, loose white skirt and blouse that tied at the front revealing her flat stomach and belly button. She looked, frankly, stunning. He'd seen her naked a whole host of times now, but

'You look amazing,' he whispered in her ear.

'I know,' she replied. 'I did it for you. Thank you for making this fantasy come true.

He rang his friend, who let them slip through the door, gestured them through the warehouse to the shop. Mike couldn't help but stare at Rachael and wished he could watch his friend in action with this beauty. Rachael felt slightly uneasy under his blatant gaze.

'Go break an egg,' he joked as he turned and disappeared to his office, wondering whether he would be able to resist sneaking back to try to catch a glimpse of her naked.

Rachael moved through the aisles, near to the store entrance and smiled broadly. She ran her hand over the apples, oranges and finally bananas. 'Just think, Jack,' she said almost skipping about, 'tomorrow, people will be wandering around here, oblivious to the fact that we have had copious amounts of sex among the potatoes, the bananas and the grapes.' He followed her, a smile on his face, a desire burning within to be with this woman again. Her physical beauty overwhelming any further doubts he had.

'Stop,' he said, and ripped a banana from a bunch. Approached her, she giggled.

'Oh, Jack, yes, take control.'

He peeled back the banana and pushed it slowly between her lips; they parted slowly and she moaned appreciation of the act. She took his hand and thrust in under her skirt. He expected to find panties, but found only naked flesh, pubic hair and a very wet pussy. She gasped as he pushed his fingers inside her.

'I am so fucking turned on, Jack. I do not remember ever being so turned on.'

She dragged him across the shop floor, to the courgettes, picked one up and demanded that he fuck her with it. 'Don't be too gentle, Jack, I am ready to be fucked.' He voice dropped to a whisper.

'Ready right now.'

He slid the legume gently inside her, but she protested. 'No, harder. Harder,' she demanded through her teeth, don't spare me. So he pushed deep into her and she screamed with pleasure. 'Fuck. Me.'

He couldn't believe this was good for her, the courgette wasn't smooth like a banana or a cucumber would be, but she demanded he kept going.

She lifted her skirt so she could see her reflection in the counter and touched her clitoris while he vegetable-fucked her. She screamed encouragement and an orgasm absolutely ripped through her, spasms rendering her body uncontrollable. She was crying, utterly out of control and it took some while for her to come down from that high.

'Oh, Jack, let's have more of this.’

She wobbled, Bambi like, to the grapes, hitched her skirt up again and inserted , one then two, then several inside her, her pussy gaping wide from the pounding she'd taken with the courgette.

'Time for some desert, Jack, come eat me out.' She pushed his face into her, his tongue licked up and down her lips, before she reached inside herself and pulled out a grape, coated in her juices; he crushed it with his teeth and tasted the heady mixture of grape and Rachael. He found more and more; he couldn't believe how many she had pushed inside herself and looked up at her when he'd exhausted the supply. Her head was tossed back, almost in a different world of unparalleled pleasure. He licked her clitoris as he looked up and she shook. 'Oh, yes,' she cried, 'more of that.' So he brought her to climax again, partly with his tongue, and partly with a peeled banana that he nuzzled up against her clit. When the banana finally disintegrated, he took another and inserted it, unpeeled, inside her, while he applied more and more pressure and greater and greater speed to her clit with his fingers.

She shook with her second orgasm, not quite as out of control as the previous time, but still finding standing difficult.

He was rock hard, he needed relief. She sensed this, told him it was his turn. Walked to the peaches, bent over, face inside the delicious aroma and hitched her skirt up.

'OK, Jack,' she commanded, 'Fuck me good; now. Fill me with your cum, let me feel you explode inside me.'

They both loved this position and he entered roughly and hard from behind, his trousers dropped to his ankles. He reached round and shoved his hands under her little top, to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples hard like she liked it. He really knew how to pleasure her these days and fucked her just how she wanted. Just like he'd fucked her on Friday, little tenderness, great desire and huge amount of lust.

Even Mike heard her screaming upstairs and could not prevent himself from watching behind the door of deli counter. He stood and held his dick in his hand, masturbated as he watched his friend fuck his irresistible girlfriend. It was an act of wanton voyeurism, but surely even a Saint would not have been able to resist?

Twenty-four hours later, the scene for Jack could not have been much different. From a surreal fantasy to standing on stage playing guitar. The gig, as always, flew by. All the tension before the gig washed away in emotion, sweat and the exhilaration of making music in front of scores of people. He liked playing at The Old Station. People went there because they wanted to hear music. Didn't matter who it was, or whether they knew them, they went there and were respectful to the musicians. Jack loved it.

When the gig was over, he stood at the bar, in between acts. It would be a couple of hours before they, as a mere support act, would be able to grab their gear and make their way home. May as well stay and listen to what was next.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a beaming smile on the face of the girl Rachael had brought along to the previous gig. What was her name; what the hell was her name?

'Hi, it's me, Rachael's friend, Sarah.'

That was it – Sarah. 'Yes, of course, Sarah. Hi! How are you?' He smiled, hesitantly at her.

'I'm fine, thanks. That was great. Again.' She positively beamed back at him.

'Thanks. Um, sorry, I'm just a bit surprised to see you.'

Her face fell a little. 'You don't mind do you?'

'No, no. Of course not,' he hurriedly replied and the full wattage beam returned. 'It's just, I'm not sure why you came again so soon.'

She looked at him like he was stupid. 'Because you're good.'

'Oh.'

She laughed, 'Oh,' she mimicked, 'that all you can say?'

'Um, no. How about, thanks?'

'Thanks will do I guess.'

He took a large gulp of his beer and realised she had nothing in her hand. 'Drink?' he asked.

'Sure,' she said, 'that would be lovely.’

They sat and chatted for ten or fifteen minutes among the excited banter of a hundred music lovers and recorded music from the P.A. as the engineer adjusted mics, levels and EQ to those he'd previously set in the sound check. The next band started and conversation stopped; for the next forty minutes, both of them enjoyed the second support band.

He stole a look at her halfway through the set. She was pretty. Next to Rachael she was plain: Rachael was special, an oil painting that made those around look like a child's crayon scribble, but Sarah's face was alive with excitement at the fantastic music and he smiled at her excitement.

The set ended, so she bought another round. The bassist from the band briefly sat with him as Sarah bought the drinks and he asked Jack what he was doing chatting up such a plain girl when he had Miss World to shag. He sent the bassist away with a grin. 'Of course you're just chatting,' the bassist had laughed and slapped him on the back before he went back to the others.

Sarah sat down with a couple of beers.

'So how was the Supermarket last night?' she asked, like it was the most natural question in the world. He actually spat his beer out over the table and she laughed heartily at his discomfort.

'You have got to be kidding me. She told you that?' he asked incredulously.

'Sure, why not. Girls talk about everything.'

'Fuck I hope not everything,' he said looking sideways at her for assurance.

She said nothing, just nodded.

'Even down to all the fruits?'

She tried to hold back the giggle, but she couldn't.

'Good grief,' she said, 'maybe she didn't tell me quite everything,'

'I seriously hope not,' he said and studied his beer a while.

'Sorry,' she said, ‘didn't mean to embarrass you.’ She also studied her beer a while.

They looked at each other and laughed. 'So you like Richard Thompson,' he said, to change subject thus to spare any further blushes, 'which albums do you have?'

They talked about music until the last act came on and he realised he had so much in common with this girl. Hell, she even drank the same beer he was drinking.

When the last act was over, they talked as he packed up gear. Sarah helped him tidy up gear, coiled leads, clipped cases shut and carried light stuff to his car.

'Night then,' she said as he slammed his boot shut. I'll get a taxi now.'

'A taxi? I don't think so; after all that help, you can have a lift.'

'You're going in the opposite direction to me though,' she protested.

'How do you kn...' He paused. 'Oh yeah. You girls talk.'

She smiled that lovely headlight-bright smile again.

'Come on, get in,' he said and when she was securely fastened in: 'Where to, luv?'

'I 'ad that gorgeous Rachael Granger in the back of my car once,' she grinned.

He cocked his head. 'Had?' he asked, 'now that I'd like to see.'

'Oy,' she slapped him. 'Drive and stop having filthy lesbian threesome fantasies, isn't last night enough?' She laughed and showed him she was at ease.

He drove back to her house, accepted the inevitable invite for coffee with only the slightest of hesitation and they sat and talked til four in the morning, surrounded by CD and album covers, and books she'd dragged from her shelves.

They swapped numbers. Why not, they liked the same music, liked reading, similar films and could share recommendations.

'Going to tell Rachael you lured me back to your home?' he asked with a grin before he left, guitars in hand, to return to his car.

'Sure, nothing to hide here. No secrets,' she said as she looked him in the eye. 'After all, why would you look twice at me when you have someone like her?'

He said it before he could even think about what he was saying. 'Because you have a true beauty, not just one that's skin deep.'

Before she could reply though, he was scurrying away to his car, wondering why the fuck he'd said that.

For four weeks, he saw Sarah during the week – unless it was a Wednesday when Rachael could meet for sex – and Rachael still on a Friday. They would sometimes go to the other's house to listen to music, share some wine, watch a film or just chat. Sometimes they would go to a gig, didn't matter who, they just enjoyed listening to live music. Rachael didn't care, she gave her blessing; after all, why would she be under threat from Sarah?

By the end of the fourth week though, he had fallen in love with Sarah and felt he was being unfaithful to her by having sex with Rachael. One drunken Thursday night he told Sarah this.

'I love you too,' she'd said softly. 'There's nothing we can do though. After all, I can't run off with my close friend's man.' That was that. Friends and no more.

Rachael mercifully solved the problem though. By leaving. Leaving and offering no forwarding address, no number. Just a note to each of them. Jack read his with a hint of regret, but no more.

Dear Jack,

I have to move. I am sorry. I enjoyed my time with you, but things have changed. I know Sarah loves you, I can see it in her eyes when we talk. I know we have nothing in common but a sexual desire for each other, and we both know we need more. Something different.

Things are very different to what they were when we met. You gave me something I always wanted and I am grateful for that. Thank you so much.

Take care of yourself and take care of Sarah. She deserves the best and that is you.

Love Rachael.

He felt a weight lifted from him. Goodbye to the beautiful, but unreal Princess. A new start with a lovely real woman. He rang Sarah.

'Did you get a letter this morning?' He asked, hoping this wasn't a terrible wind-up.

'From Sarah?'

'Yes.'

'Yes, I did,' she replied, not being able to keep her voice steady.

'I can't believe it,' he said.

'Sad?' she asked, the hope in her voice unmistakable.

'No, not sad,' he said, and she cried. Tears of relief that the door was open for her and Jack, and tears of sadness that a close friend would go so suddenly, with a hint of a warning.

'Did she say anything about me having given her something?' he asked, and held his breath.

'Yes,' she replied, puzzlement in her voice.

'Any idea what she meant?' Jack asked.

'No. No I don't.' A pause. 'Come to me Jack, I need you.' He needed no further invitation.

It was like coming home. It wasn't like making love for the first time, but a paradoxical mixture of lust, new exciting sex and the comfort of friends. She opened the door to him, eyes sad but excited; she knew that for all she had with Rachael, the secrets and the closeness Jack would more than make up for the loss.

She pulled him to her and kissed him; the shiver that ran through her as their lips confirmed all she'd known. This was right.

They undressed each other slowly. As Jack pulled Sarah's shirt over her head he saw that unfocussed far-away look on her face he'd seen so often as they'd watched bands, the look of unbridled joy as a song played that took her away from the moment. His lips touched hers again - softer than he'd imagined lips could be - their tongues met, the taste of red wine that she had been drinking, to wash away the sorrow of being apart, invaded his senses. No longer a drink to forget, but a drink to celebrate.

In a moment of impatience, she unclipped her bra.

'I want to feel my breasts in your hands, Jack.'

The bra, fallen away, exposed her breasts to his touch. They weighed heavily in his hands and for a

Her nipples were hard to his tongue; he cupped one in his hand. Sarah, sighed.

'That's one area I beat Sarah hands down,' she giggled. 'Boys always think I have a better chest than her!'

Jack stopped and looked at her, agape.

'Hey, don't stop,' she scolded and pushed her breasts back to his mouth. He mumbled an apology through his now full mouth and she laughed as she ran her fingers though his hair. His fingers ran down her slightly rounded stomach and unbuttoned her skirt. It fell to the floor and she grasped the top of his t-shirt almost dragging it off his back.

She took control, pulled him up, now shirtless, so she could press her breasts to his chest and took his hands, planted them on her backside, then eased herself away just enough so she could start to undo his jeans.

She broke away from the kiss.

'I'm looking forward to this,' she said, a half grin borne on an impish expression. 'Rachael tells me you have the most gorgeous penis.' And with that she slid down his body to complete the unbuttoning of his jeans. The boxers came down with his jeans; she smiled and gave an appreciative little moan.

'Oh, she was right,' she said. 'Lovely indeed. And now I can take it in my mouth.'