Haunted by Love

Saturday came and I duly, if very apprehensively, presented myself at the very nice restaurant. Rick had offered to pick me up but I declined, partly because my flat isn't exactly the height of style and opulence, partly because I didn't want Lucy, my annoyingly nosey neighbour, meeting Rick but mostly because I thought it would be easier to decline any "let me take you home" offers and the possible subsequent, "May I come in for a coffee/a pee/a fuck?" type requests.

As it turned out, it wasn't Rick who was the problem, I was. Rick was courteous and charming, friendly and very open as we talked. I, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves, worried about where this would end up and, basically, if this evening would make or break my career. And so I did what many people do in such a situation: I drank rather too much. Oh, I wasn't falling down drunk by any means but I had got to that state where sound judgement was for other people and tomorrow didn't matter. This was not a good state for a single girl whose only sex in the last few months had been self-administered and who was now in the company of a satisfactorily handsome, rather charming and attentive man!

I'm sure you can guess what happened... yes, I slept with him.

The following morning, waking up alone in Rick's bed, I felt like a complete slut who'd whored herself out for the sake of her career. I expected Rick to want me out as soon as possible, having got what he wanted and leaving me to wonder, as I did, whether it had been worth it. However, I was alone only briefly because he came in carrying a tray with fresh-brewed coffee. "I thought you might need a pick-me-up after last night's er, drinking," he said with a slight smile.

I sat up, pulling the duvet close around my otherwise naked body, and thanked him as he poured the coffee, trying to piece together exactly what had happened last night. The recalled image of him on top of me pretty well confirmed we'd had sex and I was fairly sure that, the shame and awkwardness I felt now notwithstanding, I had enjoyed it at the time. The memory of an orgasm surfaced.

"I guess you'll want to be getting home," he said, his voice neutral. I couldn't tell if this was said in concern for my happiness or if he was dismissing me, which I have to admit I was half expecting. Whatever his meaning, I went with just a brief and rather awkward thank you.

The evening after the creative meeting we did the usual hour or two in the pub. I was in a good mood and so stayed later than I normally did. Rick was there and so was Terri. Indeed, she seemed to be determined to be the centre of things, always directing the conversation. Nevertheless, I had quite a good evening and went home still buzzing with the happiness of my new opportunity.

Work returned to normal, well, normal-ish. I had quite a lot of work to sort out and hand over to Gavin before I could swan off to Cornwall, so the 'go down there next week' deadline passed. I still felt rather awkward about having slept with Rick. However, despite what he said at the meeting, he didn't ask me out again. I felt both relieved and disappointed: relieved that perhaps this meant that the chance I'd been given wasn't because I'd let him fuck me but disappointed because, however plain and ordinary I generally think myself to be, I didn't want him not to fancy me!

It was rather a surprise, therefore, when a week and a half after the creative meeting, he invited me out on a second date.

This time we went to see some half-baked rom-com and then to a little Italian restaurant, where I insisted on paying the bill. However, I moderated my drinking this time and we got along quite well. As we left the restaurant his arm slipped around my waist and he said, "You know, I was furious when Marcus told me what he said to you, about being friendlier. I bet you thought I put him up to it when I asked you out?" he said and I nodded. "I just 'appened to mention to 'im in passing a couple of months ago that I thought that you was attractive but that I didn't think you'd be, you know, interested..."

"Um, actually, if he hadn't said anything I probably wouldn't have said yes," I confessed.

"Is that a fact? Well, looks like I'll 'ave to forgive the meddling gay bastard!" he chuckled and looked down as his hand took mine. "Do you want...to er..." he began and I knew what was coming. What should I do I wondered? I did quite like him, he'd been charming and good company this evening and it didn't seem like he was trying to pressurise me now so I could just decline... However, he had given me the chance to speak at the meeting and he could really help to get my career moving... I wasn't being mercenary, I told myself, which was fairly true: I did like him, much more than I thought I would.

"We could spend the night together again; I mean, if you'd like that." I remember grinning at the happy look on his face.

I return from my reminiscences as ahead I see the sign for my junction and pull into the left-hand lane. Then, a little further on, the sign on the gantry spanning the road confirming that this lane is for the A303 to 'The South-West, Salisbury and Andover'. As I leave the M3 another sign in the failing twilight tells me that it's 117 miles to Exeter as I turn Gumdrop's headlights on.

Despite it being my second visit to Rick's house, I was probably more nervous as this time it was without the anaesthetic of excessive alcohol. However, Rick led me indoors and upstairs. "I'd like to undress you," he said and my nervousness spiked: I've always been rather awkward about being naked, my figure being what it is. I know how to dress to emphasise the good bits and flatter the rest but nudity does not allow such trickery. Even though we had slept together already and despite the relaxation afforded by a couple of glasses of wine with the meal, there was no way I could just stand and let him peel away my camouflage.

"We can undress each another in bed," I replied, thinking that I'd make sure the light was off. Upstairs he didn't object to climbing into bed with just the streetlight from the window and the light spilling around the bedroom door that stood ajar. With much fumbling we stripped one another until, naked at last, we slipped into each other's arms. His body was not particularly muscled but he was thin and wiry, dark hair on his arms and chest. I raised my lips to his and we kissed deeply.

I could feel my nipples hardening as they pressed his chest. His hands caressed my back and my bum but gradually worked round until his thumbs settled on my nipples, rubbing them gently. It felt so good.

I reached down and felt the hard length of his cock that gave a twitch as my fingers made contact and wrapped around it. I pushed gently, sliding the foreskin back; the emerging head, wet with pre-cum, brushed the inside of my wrist. Rick moved and rolled me onto my back as he knelt between my legs and I thought he was impatient to slip his cock inside me, as is usually the case in my experience. However, before I could say anything he moved down. Moments later I felt his mouth on my pussy.

I've had a few guys go down on me in my time, some have been good, while others... well, I suspect they didn't enjoy it any more than I did. Rick was definitely one of the better ones, his tongue exploring and delving, parting my ever-moistening folds and depths. I found myself wishing I had been less out of it the first time we made love. His tongue slithered up, seeking the tingling nub of my clitoris. Once he'd found it I was never going to last long and my orgasm, when it struck, was wonderfully intense.

He climbed up beside me and moved to kiss me but hesitated. I could smell my sex on his lips and lifted my head to kiss him; I've always found tasting myself on a lover a wonderfully erotic experience. When he felt my enthusiasm he responded just as excitedly.

I lay back, raising my knees and spreading them wide, opening to him. He edged forward and I felt his cock pressing against my very wet and very willing lower lips. With a slight groan of pleasure, he slipped inside me, gently plumbing my depths. He pulled back and thrust again, quicker and more firmly this time. He built a rhythm and I began rocking my hips in counterpoint, making his member rub my g-spot inside.

Time seemed to float away; there was just his weight between my thighs, the rolling of my hips and the feel of him inside me. There was a hesitation and his thrusts became slower and harder as he threw his head back, gasping. He came, his hot cream jetting into me. "I'm so close," I gasped, not wanting Rick to stop as his orgasm made his movements erratic. He reached down between our sweat-glazed bodies and his thumb traced its way through my pubes.

"Oh yes!" I gasped as the questing digit found my nub and made my hips buck. I hadn't lasted long after that; I was so close anyway. As usual, my second orgasm was less intense than the first but good nonetheless. With a final gasp he rolled off me and we dozed, cuddled together.

Reality reasserts itself and I become aware of several things: the first is a signpost to Andover and Salisbury while the second is that the traffic has slowed somewhat and, finally, a distinctly gooey feeling between my legs. Perhaps daydreaming about my night with Rick wasn't such a good idea whilst driving as I cannot do anything about the consequences! I just hope I haven't made too much of a mess of my knickers.

As I take the second exit on the roundabout the traffic slows further, becoming a crawl as the two lanes of the dual carriageway converge to a single lane. I think this must be the section past Stonehenge but, as I look out I'm disappointed when I realize that I'm not going to be able to see the stones in the darkness. The traffic crawls on.

There are vague shapes out across the field to the right; so much for seeing Stonehenge. For some reason, this disappointment makes the crawling traffic even more frustrating. All I want now is to reach Cornwall.

Eventually, the road becomes dual carriageway once more and the traffic speeds up until I'm cruising along at seventy-five miles an hour and I feel I'm making up for lost time, a little anyway. However, the sat-nav on my phone has moved my ETA back from 21:33 to 21:59. When it changes to 21:58 I give a little cheer, "Come on Gumdrop!"

Despite running late I have to stop: I need the loo, to stretch my legs and I'm desperate for a coffee. In the Ladies I take the opportunity to check my knickers: well, it could have been worse but there's a noticeable damp area and a definite scent of wet pussy. I'm briefly tempted to bring myself off but when I hear someone else entering the toilets I know I cannot. I wonder what I'd think if I heard the soft noises of a woman fingering herself in the adjacent cubicle? I'd probably admire her courage. I could join in alongside her and then, as we both left, the secret shy smiles, both knowing what we'd each been doing... Stop it! God, what's got into me? I'm not normally this randy so I guess that it's Rick's fault.

As I head back to the car, my phone beeps to signal a text message. I don't recognise the number and open the message expecting some on-line dating or 'have you had and accident' lawyer's spam. What I see is a shock:

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN WHORE YOUR WAY IN YOUR CAREER DO YOU COOPER, YOU UGLY COW? REMEMBER THAT YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE PREPARED TO OPEN HER LEGS IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES TO GET WHAT SHE WANTS. WHEN YOU FUCK THIS ASSIGNMENT UP I'LL MAKE SURE YOU'RE GONE FOR GOOD.

At first, I can barely take in what I'm reading but, as I re-read it, a determination settles over me. Though I can't prove it, not right now, this has Terri's venom all over it, including the use of my surname. Well, I'll show her, the bitch!

Suitably relieved, stretched and coffee-filled I get back under way, fired with a new determination to succeed at this assignment. The road now alternates between winding roads and stretches of dual carriageway, some of these so short it makes me wonder why they bothered. Still, at least it all helps to keep my mind from wandering down sensual memory lanes to last Tuesday night with Rick (which had been good, but not quite as good as our second night) or to imagined scenes of retribution I'd like visited on the bitch Terri!

There is a long run of fast road as I approach Exeter, looping south of the city on the motorway for a short while before turning off onto the A30. I've kept to schedule, even making up the time I lost drinking coffee, but the weather seems to be deteriorating and it's growing misty outside as the road runs along the edge of Dartmoor. I press on, a little slower, still heading west and south.

The outside temperature displayed on the dashboard shows it's growing colder as I cross from Devon into Cornwall. Actually, the temperature is dropping like a stone and within a mile or so it has dropped seven degrees to a chilly four degrees Celsius. I guess this is what they mean by a 'cold front' on the weather forecast. The sat-nav instructs me to take the next turn and I find myself in a winding country lane. I should have remembered this about this sat-nav app: it seems to like backways and little roads, ignorant of the fact that, while the speed limit is, in theory, fifty or sixty miles an hour, the chances of meeting an oncoming car or something agricultural in the road mean that only a maniac would attempt it. When the first squall of rain lashes across the windscreen, even forty miles an hour feels too fast.

I notice a road sign that indicates I'm driving through a village with the improbable name of Polyphant. "A polyphant must be a giant parrot with a trunk, tusks and big, flappy ears!" I think to myself, smiling. The road continues its meandering and I pass through another village, the pub being the main building seemingly. I drive on until the sat-nav tells me to turn left and then, in its usual hesitant way, "In... two... point eight miles... turn... right." Just then, the phone rings and the screen changes: it's Rick. I reach out and press the answer button on the screen. "Hi, Rick!"

"Beth, 'ow's it going?" his happy voice emanates, tinny and with a hiss from the hands-free speaker.

"Not too bad; I'm in Cornwall at least, on some tiny road off the A30. I should be there soon. The weather's crap though."

"Well, at least you're not there on 'oliday. I was goin' to say I might be..." His voice fades out abruptly.

"Hello? Rick, can you hear me?" There's a bleep and the call ends. Damn, the mobile must have lost the signal. Perhaps he'll call back in a few minutes.

The road continues to twist and the rain increases so that even with the wipers on full speed, the visibility is atrocious. What I can see outside shows that the road is no longer a winding lane between hedgerows but is running across open country. I can't say why, perhaps it is just the weather, but I feel nervous and jumpy. I try to peer through the black rain as the wind-contorted shapes of stunted trees loom in the headlights. I speed up, anxious for this journey to be over, but my sense of foreboding increases; perhaps I fear an accident out here in such a remote place so I slow down again. It doesn't really help.

Let me think: it had been two point six miles to the next turn on the right, no, left. I glance at the sat-nav for confirmation and to my horror, the map is gone, replaced by a little spinning circle thingy. "Shit!" I curse, realizing that the phone must have lost its data signal too. "Fucking useless technology!" I shout at the phone. It occurs to me that, even if I knew where I was, there isn't actually a map in the car.

I see a turning on the left; good, there can't be too far to go now. I make the turn and the road climbs gradually. I notice the temperature outside is even lower here, just two degrees above freezing.

I notice that there is grass growing in the middle of the road between the tyre tracks and I begin to suspect I've gone wrong. A couple of hundred metres later and there is no road, just a track, and my suspicion becomes a certainty. Suddenly something large and dark dashes across in front of me and I break hard. Gumdrop skids on the muddy track and lurches sickeningly as the rear of the car twists to the left; I'm terrified the car will spin and crash.

Gumdrop slews to a halt; my right leg is locked in panic, pressing the brake pedal hard to the floor, my hands grasp the wheel in a death-grip and I sit there, motionless and panting as my heart races. What the hell was that? Colin's comment about 'The Beast of Bodmin' comes back to me... but, no: whatever it was, it didn't move like a big cat.

My hammering heart slows and I have that shaky feeling that comes after a near-miss. Whatever it was, I don't want to be here. In my panicked braking I stalled the car; don't you fail your driving test for stalling during an emergency stop? I put the car into neutral, turn off the engine and then back on. There is a low whine and a half-hearted cough from Gumdrop and the headlights dim and flicker. "Come on, Gumdrop, don't be a bitch!" I mutter as I turn the headlights off and try again; this time the result is even more feeble and I'm acutely conscious of the darkness pressing in around me and of the slight shaking of the car as the wind batters against it.

I grab my phone, pulling it from the mount stuck to the windscreen that held it so I could use the treacherously useless sat-nav. There's still no signal and I give a shiver that isn't entirely due to the cooling of the car now the heating is off. What to do?

I look around but can see nothing in the dark. Maybe I can get a signal outside the car, not surrounded by metal. I reach around and grab my jacket and begin awkwardly pulling it on, the cramped space and steering wheel hampering my movements. The jacket won't be nearly enough on a night like this but it's better than nothing. Finally, grasping the phone tightly, I open the door and my cheeks are immediately stung by icy raindrops. I stand up against the buffeting wind, pushing the door shut behind me. I try to let my eyes adapt to the dark and peer around. The dwindling road is faintly visible ahead while, to the left, I sense more than I see the ground rising in a moderate slope.

I look at the phone, the glow of the screen dazzling after the darkness. "Oh... fuck!" I curse. My head snaps up as I think I hear a shout or call but after the glow of my phone, I can see nothing. It's probably a sheep's bleating, carried and distorted by the wind. Whatever it was, I can't stay here all night. Height, that's what I need; if I can get higher then maybe I can get a signal on my phone and call someone, anyone.

Hesitantly, I head off the road and onto the tussock-strewn grass. I try to use the screen of my phone as a torch but the light that seemed too bright when I looked at it, now seems little more than a firefly's glow as I struggle up the hill. I try to peer ahead to keep a straight course but the ground is treacherous underfoot and I have to peer down or risk a fall. I am soaked through and very cold but at last the ground levels out. I check my phone but there is still no signal, not even the tiniest of the four bars. I am desperate and close to tears as I turn, scanning the darkness for a light but can see nothing.

There, what was that? I spy a deeper shadow in the rain-drenched night that I instinctively take a step towards. "Please, can you help me?" I call out. The dark shape seems to shift, to grow and suddenly I am filled with dread: this is not anyone to rescue me. I back away; I don't know what, if anything, is there but I sense a violent malice and know that this is nothing I want anything to do with!

The shape shifts again and I cannot help thinking that it -- whatever it is -- has become aware of me. Terror floods me and, trembling, I stagger backwards, two steps, three, four, before I turn and run. In the dark I am running blind, downhill, away; that's the key, just get away. I am moving as fast as I dare but I know it is not enough: the malevolent dark thing is behind me and closing in, I'm sure. The biting wind and the stinging, icy rain are nothing by comparison.