Read Letters Around Midnight Online

Authors: Carla Croft

Tags: #hetero, #chick-lit, #erotica, #romance, #sex, #fun, #music, #book, #library, #oral, #flower, #florist, #Italian, #teacher, #maths, #school, #lawyer, #office, #stockings, #Valentine, #coffee, #cycling, #cyclist, #shower, #motorbike, #leather, #jazz, #basque, #stockings, #lingerie, #music, #uniform, #policeman, #policewoman, #fireman, #soldier, #nurse, #doctor

Letters Around Midnight (6 page)

BOOK: Letters Around Midnight
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The coffee shop where I work is not a straightforward coffee shop. It's a bike shop, bike store, bike repair shop and coffee shop, locker room, all rolled into one. There are changing rooms and showers and places to store the bikes. Young execs who are into cycling can cycle into the City, shower, change into their workgear, walk or catch the tube to work, come back in the evening, change and cycle home. They don't have to go to the gym, they save on rail fares, its far quicker than driving and, well, I get to see cute buns in tight cycling gear all day long. It's great, and I get paid for it.

As the guys cycle a lot, they are extremely fit. Most of them haven't got an ounce of fat on them. Behind the counter at the cafe, there is a window onto the alley where they ride in and I can watch as they arrive in their cycling gear. They are all hot and steamy from their morning ride. I love the smell of a man after a good workout, it gets me turned on. It's strange the way men's sweat smells different. I've never had two boyfriends smell the same. If I don't find the smell of a man attractive, it's an instant turn off. The odour I love is fresh sweat; like right after hard, fast sex, which is how I want it. If I can't get my man to work up a sweat in bed, then I know he's not going to last. Soft, romantic, fluffy sex doesn't do it for me. It has to be fast and energetic. I have to feel my heart pumping in my chest as well as my man between my legs. It's why I go through so many men: there aren't many who can keep up with me. I burn them out fast. Unfortunately, the richer they are, the less fit they are.

There was this one guy who used the coffee shop, Adrian. He worked as a dealer in a Bank. He was polite. Most of the guys can be offhand but he was always polite. He kept himself to himself and didn't cycle in with the rest in a big pack. He started after them, around New Year; it must have been his New Year Resolution to get fit. I made it my personal goal to encourage him. He soon burned off his excess fat to reveal a good toned body. I noticed he was getting fitter as he got slimmer. Great thick thighs, long legs, broad chest, you could see he had a gorgeous flat stomach under his cycling vest. It made you want to run your fingers along the contours of his abs. He was keen, very focused; he had this intensity which gave me goose bumps; and his smell! Well, it sent me crazy.

Each day, Adrian came in before having a shower so I got to serve him his coffee at the bar. We have screens playing the CNN channel and he watched the news when he came in to order his coffee. I snatched glimpses of him as I made his coffee, a tall skinny latte. He has this habit of standing hands on hips, head on one side. I love the line of his chin, it's chiselled, strong, extremely masculine. His smell was gorgeous, so I always made up an excuse to walk around and stand alongside him so I could smell him better. There was this woody scent to him, it reminded me of the forests back home in the Ukraine, spice and pine all mixed into one.

Anyway, after a few months, he spoke to me at the cafe bar,

“What's the earliest time you open in the morning?” It was the first real conversation we had had, and it was the first time I had seen his eyes. They were a deep mocha with flecks of chocolate.

“The manager opens up at 7” I said.

“Oh,”

“Why? Isn't it early enough for you?” The machine was spluttering and spewing out huge clouds of steam as I heated up the skimmed milk for his latte. I was trying hard not to look at his crotch on those tight cycling shorts of his. He had to talk louder over the noise of the machine,

“For the next few weeks I'm coming in extra early and wondered what's the earliest time I could come in. I don't want to have to drive.”

“Oh, I see” the thought of missing out on his bum for several weeks was too much to bear.

“I could ask if you want?”

“That would be great, I'd appreciate it”

“It'll cost you.” I was feeling adventurous. The truth was, I didn't want the conversation to end.

“Oh in what way?” he looked nervous,

“Oh I'll think of something, how about a red hot tip.”

“Oh right, yeah. I didn't take you for a trading type.”

It wasn't what I had in mind but it would do for starters. He went off to get showered and I spoke to the manager. He said he couldn't open up any earlier as he had to get over from the East End and as he had a family, he didn't want to leave too early. So it was a no. I was disappointed, I had set my heart on helping Adrian out. Then I had an idea.

“I live close by.” I ventured, the glimmer of a plan in the back of my head.

“I don't mind getting up earlier and opening up for you. I've heard the other guys say they want to come in earlier as well” I lied,

“If we offer earlier opening times, we might get more customers,”

“Are you sure?” he looked doubtful,

“Well, why not try it? If it doesn't work out then we can go back to normal.”

“But, would you be safe opening up by yourself?”

“With a locker room full of guys?” I lied again,

“How much safer can a girl get?”

So that was it. It was agreed for a trial period I could open up early and if it worked out then I would get a raise, more hours and at least initially I would have Adrian to myself in the morning. I was pleased with myself. Adrian was surprised when I told him I had managed to persuade the boss to let me open up early for him.

“Of course,” I told him,

“I wouldn't do it for anyone else.” He laughed; he had no idea.

So for the next few mornings I opened up early and Adrian would arrive at six. We had the place to ourselves. The other regulars didn't start arriving until way after seven. He would come in, get his coffee and go into the locker room to get showered and changed. He kept saying how grateful he was. I enjoyed it being only the two of us. I was trying to think of ways to get him to ask me out but it never worked. I was frustrated. I don't usually have to try too hard; but Adrian was proving a hard nut to crack. I needed a plan, or a stroke of luck.

On the third morning, Adrian was late. He had worked up a hell of a sweat and came in dripping. It gave me an instant rush. I couldn't stop imagining him naked and sweating after sex. He hung his bike up on the rack. His muscles went all taught from his calves to his shoulders as he reached up. His bum was tight as rock in his shorts. I could feel the temperature between my legs rising. He came over to the bar and apologised.

“I was working late and overslept” he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm.

“I had to push to make up the time.” The sweat still dripped off him,

“Hell, I'm sweating like crazy,” he was breathing hard still.

“Don't worry” I said looking him up and down. The sight of him all sweaty had me going.

“You aren't that late,” I said.

“It's only just gone six.” He called me sweet and leant over the counter to peck me on the cheek. It was unexpected,

“You don't mind do you?” he asked.

I had his coffee ready and waiting for him, keeping it hot under the counter. I had my hand on it and could feel its heat through the corrugated cardboard sleeve. Then I had a thought,

“No, not at all” I left his coffee behind the counter before he saw it was ready. I had a plan.

“Look” I said,

“To save you time, why don't you go and get showered and I'll bring your coffee in to you.”

“You would? I mean, you don't mind?” Are you kidding? My mind screamed.

“No, just make sure you're decent when I knock.”

“Ah okay. You sure, yeah, you won't get in trouble for coming into the men's changing rooms?”

“Well, if you don't tell, who's to know?”

“Okay then.”

He walked off towards the changing rooms. I brought his coffee out from under the counter as he opened the door to the changing rooms and went in. Now I thought to myself, it's all down to the timing.

I walked to the changing room door, thinking about what Adrian was doing behind it. I chanted slowly, walk to the locker, open the locker; I heard the sound of a metallic clang from behind the changing room door. Top off, shoes off; clang, clang; they hit the inside of the locker. Now, I thought; shorts down, towel over shoulder and....

I opened the door to the changing room and walked in. Adrian was standing there with his towel wrapped around his waist. Damn my timing was off.

“Oh Christ. I didn't. God I'm sorry. Did you knock. I didn't hear” I stood there with his tall, skinny latte in my hands, piping hot and ready to go.

“You know, I have always wanted to know what it looked like in here” I let my accent go thick. Men love it when I talk in a heavy Russian accent. I don't know why, but it sends them crazy. I call it my Bond Girl voice. Judging by the towel, it was having the desired result. He tried to cover himself.

“Oh hell please, just put the coffee down, I didn't realise you'd be so quick.”

“Don't worry,” I said,

“I'm a fast worker. The coffee will keep” I eyed him up and down

“But I won't.”

“Excuse me?”

I walked over to him in my best long legged Russian, put down his skinny latte and stood right in front of him. I could feel the heat blasting off him like he was a furnace. A vein throbbed in his neck. He was damn lucky I wasn't Transylvanian or I would have bitten his head clean off. A drip of sweat beaded at his temple and ran down his face and then other little beads of perspiration began breaking out all over him. I ran my fingers over the sheen of his body. He was still trying to cover himself with the towel. I was glad to see the towel wasn't adequate for the job.

“It is hot in here no?” I said

“Ah yeah.”

“Then perhaps I should take these off.” I stood legs slightly apart in front of him. I unbuttoned my blouse taking my time over each button and slipped my blouse off. I have nice breasts; I'm proud of them and men like them because they are small and perky. My nipples were stiff with anticipation. He couldn't take his eyes off them. I undid the button to my trousers and took the zip between my thumb and index finger and slowly slid it down one tooth of the fastener at a time and then peeled down my trousers to reveal my panties. I had purposely put on my high heels instead of my work flats. I wanted to make an impression and I'm sure I managed it.

I reached past him and twisted the knob of the shower to get the water running. The spray caught my arm and I leant forward to wipe it off on his towel. The coarseness of it tingled my skin and I got a whiff of his scent.

“I think you need shower” I said and ran my fingers over his chest, shoulders and back as I walked around him in my underwear and high heels. The steam from the shower was starting to rise and so I got into it. I held my head back and let the hot water splash over my body. I soaked my hair into one long wet plait pushing it back with my hands. My underwear went see-through as I let the water play over me. The shower jet was powerful and I stood back to let it hit my pussy through my knickers. I'm completely shaved down there and he could see everything through the fabric. He stood there watching every move I made.

Adrian had hung a bottle of shampoo in the shower so I poured a big creamy pool of it onto my hands and then soaped myself all over. The suds felt creamy and luxuriant against my body and I was getting myself all lathered up. I pushed my hand inside my panties and fingered my pussy as he watched. He was obviously enjoying watching me. It felt good, I was his private shower dancer. I looked at him. The look on his face had changed. I could tell he wanted me is I stepped forward out of the shower and grabbed the towel,

“I need your towel,” I said, and ripped it out of his hand.

He stood there with his beautiful cock pointing straight out at me, it twitched as the blood pumped through it making it shine red and purple in the steam. He had made up his mind and got into the shower and pushed me back under the water, kissing me as the water played over us. Our bodies slipped and slid together.

We stood facing each other. I looked down at his sex and ran my hands over his cock and balls lathering them up. His balls were tight up inside him which accentuated the length and girth of his cock. I couldn't wait any longer and had to have him so I knelt down and took his cock in my mouth. It tasted soapy and the suds bubbled up at the corners of my mouth. It was a shame I didn't have his hot sweaty cock straight after cycling, but I was sure I could arrange it the next time. He held his hand softly against my cheek keeping the hair away from my mouth and guiding my head forwards and backwards as I worked his cock with my lips. I had to change position a few times as it was difficult to kneel in my heels but I was definitely getting his approval by the way he was gasping. I let his cock slip out of my mouth and moved my face directly under his balls and licked them, his wet hair sticking to my face. I took him in my mouth again and held him behind his knees to let him move his cock in and out of my mouth by himself. My mouth slurped and pulled at his cock as my lips stretched over his head and down his shaft. He asked me to stand and pulled my panties to one side and moved his fingers inside me.

BOOK: Letters Around Midnight
12.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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