This is a story inspired by our friend and a fantasy that grew out of our friendship. Real life hugs to the real life Angela and love to my wife Jodie for supporting me in my writing madness.
Oh – and love to all my lovely readers who have been asking me to write again. I’ve been kind of busy getting married and all.
Anna
xxxxxxx
Monday
I had just had a pleasant dinner in the hotel restaurant and decided I should head to the bar and maybe work on some edits to my latest book.
I was in London for a writer’s convention and, once again, had the evening to myself. Mostly, it has to be said, by choice. After a long day of workshops and seminars I was glad to be in a different hotel than most of the other delegates. It gave me more time to relax.
I’d dressed in my favourite grey silk wraparound, just above the knee as is my preference, with matching grey heels and silver hoop earrings. I had my red handbag, with matching lipstick and nails, the grey and the red is a contrast of colours that I always love. My long, wavy, red hair was loose. Unusually for me I had also dabbed a little of my favourite Givenchy behind my ears. My laptop was under my arm.
I walked into the bar and headed for the long, curved oak bar. There were only a handful of customers sitting around which, given the day of the week, was hardly surprising. That’s when I saw her, sitting on one of the bar stools, reading on a Kindle, a tumbler half full with some dark drink in front of her. She was wearing black jeans, a dark silk top and white sneakers with no socks. Her beautiful brown skin and thick, straight black hair, tied back in a long ponytail, made me immediately name her my ‘African Angel’.
She’d broken from reading for a moment and looked up and directly at me. I was only a few feet away, approaching the bar. She had beautiful, big brown eyes that made me shudder. I’d obviously been staring a little too long because she smiled quizzically and then stared uncomfortably down and back at her book.
I cleared my throat, “Um…”
She looked back up with a slightly quizzical expression. “Do you mind if I sit here?” I said, indicating the bar stool next to her.
She smiled, her beautiful face lighting up and said, in a slightly accented voice, “Please. Be my guest.”
I sat down, hooked my handbag on the back of the chair and placed my laptop on the bar in front of me. A twenty something barmaid with shoulder length blond hair, who’s name badge identified her as Kendra, asked me what I’d like.
“A large Chardonnay if you have it please, Kendra?” I said, and she duly went to the back of the bar, reaching into one of the many glass refrigerators, retrieving a bottle and pouring me a glass.
She placed it on a bar mat in front of me and I showed my room key, “Can you charge it to my room, please? Room twenty sixteen. Name of Gilbert.”
She smiled, “Of course. I’ll start you a tab.”
I thanked her, opened my laptop and took a sip of my wine while it started up. I was somehow intensely aware of my African Angel next to me and I thought to myself, ‘Get a grip Anna, What is wrong with you?’
I was interrupted by the beautiful tones of the Angel’s voice, “Cheers,” she said, and I looked at her. She was raising her glass.
I smiled back and raised mine to her. Our eyes seemed to connect as we sipped our drinks.
As we placed them back on the bar she held out a hand, “Hi. I’m Angela,” she said.
Of course she was. My Angel had to be called Angela.
I took her hand in mine and gloried in the warm softness of her skin on mine.
“And I’m Anna,” I said, “nice to meet you Angela.”
She smiled, “Likewise.”
She looked at my laptop, “I can see you want to do some work. I’ll leave you alone.”
There was no way I wanted to stop our conversation so I just shrugged, “Oh. Nothing important. Just doing some editing.”
“Editing someone else’s work, or your own?”
I smiled and could feel the slight blush in my cheeks as I said, “My own. I’m a writer.”
She raised a quizzical eyebrow, a look that I was slowly coming to adore. “Oh? A writer? What sort, fact or fiction?”
I wasn’t sure how much I should reveal about the sorts of writing I usually published but simply answered, “Fiction. I don’t know enough facts to write about.”
She laughed, “What sort of stories do you write? Are you published?”
I skirted the first question, “Yes. I’m published.”
“Would I have heard of you?”
We were getting into areas that I might find uncomfortable, or at least she might and I didn’t want her to feel that way.
“Possibly, but unlikely. My books sell well but don’t quite make the New York Times best seller list.”
She cocked her head to one side, “So, mysterious Anna, would I enjoy your stories?”
I swallowed. “That all depends, Angela. What sort of stories do you like?”
“I like a wide range of stories,” she replied, “I like adventure, romance, science fiction sometimes. All bahçeşehir escort sorts.”
Her voice, with its slight husky quality and African tainted accent, was mesmerising and having distinct effects on certain parts of my body. My nipples were hardening under my dress and I felt a distinct, familiar and welcome warmth and tingle between my legs.
“Well then, I suppose you would call my stories romantic.”
“I’d love to read one. It would be so exciting to know I’d met and talked to the author of a book that I’d read.”
I smiled and tried to change the subject, and also perhaps find out if my books would be something she’d enjoy. I hoped so, but there was something so clearly straight about Angela that I doubted it.
“So, is there a Mr. Angela?” I asked.
She laughed back, “You are trying to avoid answering my questions aren’t you Mysterious Anna? Okay. I understand. So no, There is no Mr. Angela. I have not been blessed with such a gift in my life yet. Is there a Mr. Anna anywhere?”
I saw how closely she was watching me.
I coughed and took a sip, “No. There is no Mr. Anna and there never will be.”
She raised that eyebrow again, “Never? Does this tell me that I am looking at someone who has been hurt and is running away from any commitment?”
In some ways she was close to the truth, but in others oh so far away from it. I decided to test the waters a little.
I smiled and blushed, “No. That’s not quite what I meant. I just don’t want a relationship with a man.”
I saw the puzzlement in her eyes and then a dawning realisation, “Oh my… you mean you… My god. In my country at the very least you would be shunned. Possibly worse.”
My heart sank. So, once again, an attractive woman who I seemed to click with was horrified that I am gay.
“Really? Shunned? Where are you from?”
“Zambia. Trust me. Never visit or, if you do, don’t tell anybody.”
I’d heard about some of the human rights abuses against gay men in Zambia but hadn’t realised it was also applied to women, although I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I thought a change of subject was needed again.
I smiled and said, “I’ll make a note of it if I ever have to do a book signing tour there but, from what you say it is unlikely my books would ever be allowed there anyway.”
Her eyes sprang open wide, “Oh! So that’s why you wouldn’t tell me about the sort of stories. They’re about your sort.”
That stung me but also confirmed that Angela was as straight as a ruler.
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, “My sort, Angela? I’m sorry I am not acceptable to you or your country but here we have a lot more rights and freedoms.”
I saw a momentary panic on her face, “No, no, no, Anna. Please. I don’t think any less of you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course your life is your life,” she placed a hand reassuringly over mine, “I’m not… a…”
She was clearly unsure how to identify me, so I helped her out. “Lesbian?”
She swallowed and removed her hand.
“Yes. I’m not a… lesbian,” she paused a moment, “but can I tell you a secret?”
I was glad we were back on an even keel and smiled, “Of course, anything.”
She had dropped her eyes away from me but now looked back up, and quickly looked around to see if there was anybody listening but the bar was quiet and there was nobody near.
“I sometimes read… dirty stories. Like, on the internet. That sort of thing.”
I swear that if she could blush, she would have been blushing right then.
I smiled, “Well, Angela, I started out by publishing on the internet, so maybe you’ve read… oh no. You wouldn’t have, would you. Not your sort of stories.”
“Um. Well, sometimes I do read those stories…”
‘Oh,’ I thought to myself.
“So you’re not completely…” I started but she interrupted me.
“I am. One hundred percent,” she said defensively, “but I quite like how sensuous those sorts of stories can be.”
Here was an opportunity it would be too good to miss.
“Would you like to read one of my books?” I asked.
She lowered her voice, “I’m not sure. Maybe I don’t want to. I don’t want to think differently of you because I like you.”
My heart was aflutter. Of course I knew there was no chance of anything happening between us, but the fact she liked me made me so unexpectedly happy.
“And I like you,” she looked up and I reassured her, “I don’t mean like that. I would never, ever want to be with anyone who wasn’t absolutely sure.”
She visibly relaxed and I felt the tension that I had been unaware of, fall back.
“Then I would love to read one of your books. Do you have one with you?”
I smiled, “Better than that,” I said nodding down at her Kindle, “I can put one on there for you.”
She picked up her Kindle and looked at it and then me, “You mean I have to buy it?”
I laughed, “No, silly. If you’re okay with it I can put it on there from bakırköy escort my laptop.”
She handed it over and said, “Yes. Please. That would be wonderful.”
I took it, and turned to fish in my bag for my cable which I always carry with me because I often proofread on one of my tablets. I connected my laptop to her Kindle and said, “Now, which one…”
She stopped me, “Well, which is your favourite?”
That was easy, “My favourite is my first child.”
She looked confused, “You have a child…?”
I laughed, “No, I think of my books as my children, let out into the world to, in some small way, have a positive effect on it. It is the first book that was published and tells the story of my first love. It’s a true romance.”
She smiled, a little excitement in her voice as she said, “That sounds perfect. What is it called?”
I had opened her Kindle and I dragged the file onto it. There was a soft ping once it was copied.
“It’s called Saturn Rising,” I said, disconnecting her Kindle and handing it back to her.
She opened the kindle and looked at the cover, a picture of two women in silhouette sitting together on a hillside at nighttime, a star filled sky above them.
“What an intriguing title,” she said. She lifted her drink and finished it, “will you be here tomorrow?”
“I’m here all week. What about you?”
“I am also here all week. I’m doing some work for one of our clients.”
I realised I had been terribly rude.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier. What is it you do?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m an engineer. We can save that conversation for tomorrow if you’d like to meet for a drink again?”
“I’d love to. It has been so nice to meet you Angela. See you tomorrow.”
She got off her stool, smiled and as she walked away she looked back over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Mysterious Author Anna.”
I watched her back as she left the bar. She had deliciously full hips and a slight sway that was instantly attractive.
I closed my laptop with a sigh, finished my wine, thanked Kendra as I signed my tab, gathered my things and went back up to my room. I closed the door, dropped my handbag on the chair in the corner, removing my earrings and replacing them with my studs, removing my shoes and putting them next to the bed. I then stood in front of the full length mirror at the end of the bed, undid the sash on my dress letting it fall open and pool at my feet. I could clearly see as well as feel that my nipples were stiff. I reached behind and undid my bra, dropping it on the floor with my dress revelling in the liberating feeling of my breasts being freed.
I crossed my arms and took both nipples in between my thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezed, which sent a delicious rush through me. I released my left nipple and let my hand wander down and stroked just above my clit through the soft material of my skimpy panties, all the time watching myself in the mirror, something I’ve done many times over the years. I brought an image of Angela into my mind and tried to envisage her naked before me, watching me. I imagined her breasts, a little larger than mine I was sure, with large dark areola and almost black nipples standing proud. I saw a dark black bush of neatly trimmed pubic hair, her black lips glistening before me. In my fantasy she mimicked me, softly squeezing a nipple and her other hand stroking gently on the hood of her clit, which was slightly lighter than the surrounding darker lips of her pussy.
I briefly considered getting out one of my toys, I always travel with a selection, but decided I wanted a ‘just me’ orgasm for now.
I put my hands down on either side of my panties and lowered them, revealing myself, in my imagination, to my African Angel. I felt her smile as she saw my sparse, bikini trimmed red bush. Shaking with passion and heat I sat down on the bed and watched myself play, picturing her playing. I could feel the warmth in my very swollen lips and the increasing tingle in my clit as I played. I fell back on the bed and spread my legs a little, stroking my clit slightly faster and that was it. As I fell over the edge I saw my African Angel come with me. Lying next to me. The rush ran out from my centre, my skin electrified as I imagined her. The peak seemed to last for an eternity and then slowly, slowly, I was coming down to earth again.
I felt rested and relaxed. My release was complete. With a smile on my face I crawled, naked, under the duvet and fell into a blissful, dream filled sleep.
Tuesday
I was awoken at seven with the alarm from my phone ringing from inside my handbag. I leaned over and took it out, silencing it. Memories of meeting Angela and my subsequent orgasm filled me and I let my hands wander, one stroking my right nipple and the other down through my bush as I felt my clit tingling once more. She was being her usual, rather hungry self, and I love her for it.
I pressed gently and felt her come alive, başakşehir escort poking out. Pushing the covers down I exposed myself and looked to see her stiff and proud. I could feel the warmth spreading up from inside, my wetness increasing as I moved my finger more rapidly. I could feel my orgasm close and reached for it, pinching my nipple a little as the wave started. At that moment my image of Angela lying next to me sprang to mind once again. I imagined looking into her eyes as we came together. My orgasm was intense and rolled on and on until I couldn’t take any more. I clamped my legs and dropped back onto the pillows my breathing slowly calming.
I needed to get on with my day and so rolled out of bed, showered, dried my hair and dressed in my pale lilac lace bra and panties, a long sleeve black top and a knee length fawn coloured summer skirt. The weather was reasonably warm, but I decided on dark tights anyway, deciding I should be more demure for my classes. I put my matching flats on. I thought I might change later for my ‘date’ with Angela.
I tried to put thoughts of her out of my mind and the day passed well enough, but a little too slowly for my liking. Finally it was six O’clock and I left the conference centre in an unseemly hurry and practically ran back to my hotel and up to my room, taking a brief look into the bar on my way past to see if Angela was already there. She wasn’t and I worried that I wouldn’t see her at all: That I, or perhaps my book, had scared her off. When I got to my room I put everything down and took a look at myself in the mirror. I decided I needed to change into something a little sexier. I took off my top, shoes, skirt and tights and looked through my wardrobe. Two items jumped out at me. I took them out and squeezed into the figure hugging, lilac, long sleeve knit mini dress with a polo neck and long sleeves, struggling as always in the zipper dance. Then I added my grey, maxi cardigan, leaving the belt undone. I then put on my favourite killer heels in a matching violet and put my hoop earrings back in.
As I swapped my shoes and earrings I was feeling little flutters in my tummy all the while. I finally sat at the dressing table and re-did my mascara and touched up my lipstick. Once more, I dabbed a little Givenchy behind my ears.
Finally, after brushing my hair, I was ready. I took a last look at my ensemble in the mirror. The dress was just above mid thigh and with the cardigan, which came to just above my ankles, I felt the match was perfect. I had a weird mixture of nerves and excitement as I headed back down. Of course, I knew that nothing would happen, but I often get these obsessions with people and my African Angel was now most definitely a new obsession. Just being in her presence was all I wanted.
The lift pinged and I walked out and towards the bar.
‘Thank God. There she is again,’ I thought to myself as I entered the bar.
She hadn’t seen me and I took a moment to take her in.
She was, once again, sitting at the bar with a tumbler of dark drink in front of her. Rather than jeans and a top, this evening she was wearing a knee length dress with a muted orange base and light brown paisley pattern which seemed to swirl in the subdued bar light. It was almost hypnotic. She had low platform heels in orange on her beautiful feet. Her long black hair was still tied back in a ponytail. She was, once again, reading her Kindle.
I approached the bar and she looked up, her face breaking into a smile. She stood up from her stool and held my arms in her hands, her eyes going up and down, taking me in.
“Wow, Mysterious Author Anna. You look stunning. I love that dress.” She then took me in her arms and gave me a huge hug. “So lovely to see you again, Anna. Really. Can I get you a drink?”
I was momentarily lost for words as her eyes stared into mine.
“Um… yes. Thank you Angela. The feeling is entirely mutual. I am so happy to see you again.”
We both sat down and I saw that Kendra was working behind the bar. Her shoulder length blond hair framing her elfin face.
“Good evening Ms. Gilbert,” I was impressed she’d remembered my name, “Large Chardonnay?”
“Yes… yes. Please. Thank you, Kendra. And call me Anna. Please.”
She smiled, “Of course, Anna.”
She went to sort out the drink while I took my place next to Angela at the bar.
“So, Anna,” she said, “How was your day?”
I smiled, “Busy, but pleasant enough. How about yours?”
Kendra placed my drink in front of me and Angela said, “Put it on my room please, Kendra?”
“Of course, Angela. Enjoy.” With that she went to serve a couple who had just entered.
“My day? It was the usual. Lots of measurements and fine tuning. I had a couple of successes so it was sort of fulfilling…” she paused, “Um… I started reading Saturn Rising…”
I wasn’t sure I liked the pause. Maybe she didn’t like it. It wouldn’t surprise me. Straight women aren’t really my market. “And… how far have you got?”
“I managed to get to the part where you met with your friend Jackie and then went home and were… naughty in the park.”
I needed to know what she thought. Her approval was important to me.
“And… are you enjoying it so far?”
She looked me in the eyes, “Yes, Anna. I am. I really enjoyed reading it in bed last night.”