Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With a Delivery Man (4 page)

Tuesday

Late

Where the hell is he?

It was already two o’clock. Over the past
months, even before things had become physical, Jenny had gotten used to John
arriving at almost exactly one in the afternoon. His failure to appear by two
was beginning to worry her. Sometimes he delivered her weekly quota of DVDs
five minutes early, sometimes he brought them ten minutes late, but he had
never been this late. Never a whole hour behind schedule.

 
Perhaps he’s on holiday… Perhaps he’s
ill? Has he got sick kids that he needs to look after? Has the van broken down
somewhere remote? What if the van’s been in a crash, what if…?

A multitude of crises, big and small,
roamed Jenny’s head. A sense of helplessness crept over her, and she started
pacing around the house without really registering what she was doing. ‘I don’t
even have his number, for goodness’ sake!’ Jenny railed at the kitchen at
large, fussing with the dishes she’d left to drain by the sink. ‘Does he even
have a mobile phone? Surely everyone has one!’

Peering out of the window through the
pouring autumn rain, hoping to see the film library van turn onto the road, she
gave herself a shake.
This is ridiculous!
You’re not some love-struck teenager. He’s probably been held up for some
logically dull reason. You pay his company to deliver your films, so they WILL
be delivered. Stop being pathetic, and go do some work, woman!

Forcing herself to be sensible, Jenny sat
at her computer desk and studied the wild arrangement of ultra-dull
spreadsheets that confronted her. She might as well have been trying to read
Mandarin for all the sense she could make of the invoices she was supposed to
be processing. It was hopeless. Consumed with desire, all she could think about
was that John was not with her. That his strong hands were not walking across
her flesh, that his mouth wasn’t against her own, that the arousal the
afternoon had promised had been left hanging. She got up again, returning
aimlessly to her vigil, pacing by the kitchen window.

Damn,
he promised we’d have time to share information about each other today. Will I
ever get to know more about my hot delivery man?

That was when it hit her. Jenny stopped
dead, her stockinged feet gliding a little against the tiled floor.
Approximately half an hour a week, that’s all she had with this guy. So far
that meant they’d been together, in the biblical sense, for less than four
hours. Yet it had assumed such massive importance. It was just sex, for
goodness’ sake!
And just sex without ties
is exactly what I need after the disastrous relationships I’ve had in the past!
But even as she thought it, Jenny knew it wasn’t that simple. After so long
living like a hermit, the genie had been let out of the bottle, and, like it or
not, she knew she couldn’t go back to being celibate again.

Trying and failing to ignore the
intensifying dampness between her legs, Jenny marched back into the living room
and glanced again at the clock that glowed at the bottom right-hand corner of
her computer screen. It was a quarter past two. Wiping her sweaty hands down
the back of her jeans, she decided to be practical.

So,
John’s not going to come; or if he is coming, he’ll be running so late that
he’ll be in a tearing rush and won’t have time to stop. Therefore, if I want to
get anything done this afternoon, I’ll have to take some personal action.

The instant she thought about going it
alone, Jenny’s breasts, craving the attention they’d been anticipating for the
last hour, puckered against her black satin bra. Leaning back in her swivel
chair, closing her eyes, she imagined that her fingers belonged to John.
Running them slowly across her thin maroon shirt, she undid the buttons one at
a time. Jenny couldn’t help but giggle as she pictured John’s chunky fingers stumbling
over the tiny fastenings, getting so frustrated he would jerk the whole garment
over her head.

Throwing the blouse to the floor, stroking
her palms over her tits, she teased her nipples through the soft material of
her bra. Exhaling slowly, letting go of some of the tension that had built up
in the seemingly endless wait for her courier, she allowed a single digit to
stray around the waistband of her jeans.

The insistent ringing of the front doorbell
interrupted Jenny’s musings and, half-naked, she dashed to the door. John hastened
inside, grumbling about road-work and customers who lost rented DVDs. His face,
however, showed amused approval at her
disheveled
state, and he grinned, ‘Nice bra,
Jen! You couldn’t wait for me, then?’ before he assaulted her breasts with his
mouth.

Sighing, Jenny asked, ‘Are you sure you have
time?’ Her question was genuine, but as she spoke, John’s fingers
travelled
firmly over
her rigid nipples sending a quake of need through her nervous system that she
couldn’t have hidden if her life depended on it.

‘Don’t ask stupid questions.’ John wrenched
his pants down a few inches. ‘I’ve been pumping blood down there for the last
two hours thinking of you, babe. Of course I’m up for it!’

Without bothering to remove his rain-soaked
coat, John hauled Jenny’s denims and knickers off. Positioning her so she was
crouched over the edge of the sofa, her face in the cushions, her knees spread
apart on the floor, John impaled his cock into her soaking pussy. Grasping her
hips in his calloused hands, he drove into her with such
vigor
that the sofa
shifted across the carpet.

Surrendering to his momentum, relishing the
solid weight of his muscular frame as it rammed against her arse, Jenny
whimpered an incoherent, ‘That’s so good,’ as he plunged harder, his hand
massaging her wetness in time to his movements. John’s tone was hoarse as he
said, ‘Talk dirty to me, Jen. Tell me about her.’

She didn’t hesitate, instinctively knowing
what he wanted to hear. ‘You really are a bad boy, making me all wet. I’ve been
thinking of how well you fuck all afternoon. I’ve also been thinking of a girl
I knew…’ John expelled an elongated sigh, boosting Jenny’s confidence. ‘She
used to spend hours just sucking my tits, but you suck tits better, much better.
I’ve never been as horny in my life as I get thinking about you and me together.
My vibrator batteries have worn right down since our last shag…’

John grunted into her ear, ‘Babe, I’m
nearly there.’ Increasing the pressure of his fingers over her clit, he peaked
alongside her. Jenny’s body shuddered against his bulk.

Only seconds after he’d moved away from
her, John’s trousers were back in place, and he was apologizing again. ‘Hell,
girl, I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll do the finding out about each other
thing next week instead, okay?’

Jenny nodded dumbly, trying not to show how
disappointed she was. After giving her a brief but fierce kiss, John hurried to
the door. Just as he was about to disappear, he turned back and looked her
squarely in the face, ‘Is it all true, Jen, or have you been making up the bit
about liking girls to turn me on?’

The hope in his eyes made Jenny smile as
she replied softly, ‘Oh yes, honey, it’s all true.’

Savoring
the aroma of sex hanging around the room, Jenny cradled the look of
utter, gobsmacked delight on John’s face as he’d returned to his van. Then,
resigned to having to wait another whole week before she could tell him
everything she badly wanted him to know, Jenny went back to work.

Friday

The Van

Can u meet me in the town car park at 12 tomo? Will have big library
truck. We need to talk. J

The note had been scribbled in fading black
ink on the back of a leaflet advertising the A to Z Film Delivery Service.
Jenny’s pulse raced as she read. The words ‘we need to talk’ struck a quiet
terror in her heart. They had been the death toll of so many relationships in
the past.
But then, this isn’t a
relationship. It isn’t anything. It’s just sex.

Cursing the fact that she’d been out when
John called, ruing missing the opportunity for another possible sexual
adventure, Jenny’s overactive brain began seething with the usual ‘what ifs.’

Has
he decided he wants out? Has his delivery round been altered? Or maybe he
really does want to learn more about me…

Assailed by nerves, a light perspiration dotted
the back of Jenny’s neck and palms as she spotted the DVD lorry in the far
corner of the car park. Its metallic bodywork shone in the midday sunshine, and
the unsubtle bold script of the A to Z Film Delivery Service was certainly designed
to not be missed.

 
The night before, tossing and turning against her pillow, Jenny
had been tormented by fantasy-laden dreams. Endless tableaus of John and her on
the living room floor with his face between her legs morphed into dreams of Jo.
The girl she’d once known. The girl she’d sort of told John about, but not
properly—not yet.

Within the confines of her night-time
restlessness, she had pictured John sitting on her armchair, his cock in his
hand, wanking off as he watched Jenny come beneath the ministrations of her
ex-girlfriend. His eyes were on stalks as he studied the striking redhead
cradling Jenny, her tongue lapping at Jenny’s breasts, her hands drifting over
Jenny’s stomach…

By the time she’d awoken from her fitful
slumber, Jenny felt as if she’d spent the entire night with a vibrator and
half-dozen pornographic books.

Now, taking a steadying breath, Jenny drew
her shoulders back and headed to the parked lorry. Abnormally conscious of the
clatter of her heeled boots against the tarmac, she weaved between the parked
cars.

A broad grin lit John’s rugged features on
her arrival at the passenger’s side of the truck’s cab. ‘I thought you’d be
late.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re a woman, aren’t you?’

Jenny peered at him over the top of her
sunglasses, ‘I’m me, and I’m always on time for everything.’

The smirk at the corner of his smile told
her he accepted this information, but didn’t necessarily believe it.

‘So?’ Feeling self-conscious as she climbed
into the van next to her delivery man, Jenny said, ‘Obviously I got your note,
then.’

John’s dark eyes pierced her own. ‘I didn’t
think you’d come.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m not the sort of guy you’d normally be
seen with, am I?’

Briefly Jenny considered lying to him,
telling him not to be so stupid, but the little they knew about each other
confirmed it to be a truth not worth denying. John was without a doubt the
lowest educated person she’d ever been with. Male or female, all the others had
held degrees, and many were doctors of some obscure subject or another.

‘To be honest, no, you’re not. But then, I
don’t suppose I’m the sort of person you’d usually be seen out with either, am
I?’

This time John laughed out loud, ‘This is
true.’ He placed his palm over her knee, and despite the fabric of her
ankle-length skirt, his touch all but singed her. ‘I don’t tend to do posh,
Jen.’

‘Posh? Me? You have to be kidding!’

‘You watch foreign films, read novels, and
unless your TV watching habits have changed since we last exchanged a coffee,
you don’t even like soap operas. And I bet if a world-famous celebrity walked
in front of us right now you’d have no idea who they were. That’s posh where I
come from!’

‘That’s not being posh, that’s having good
taste!’ She gave him a teasing sideways glance. ‘Well, if I’m posh, wouldn’t
that make you my bit of rough? After all, you have two tattoos, which makes you
virtually a criminal by my grandparents’ standards!’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘Nope,’ Jenny laughed. ‘So, why the
tattoos, then? What do they mean?’

‘Haven’t a clue. I was pissed and, well, it
seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘Did you never try and find out?’ Jenny was
already keen to know what secrets were scarred into his arms.

‘Nope.’ John gave her a quick look that
told her the tattoo conversation was over, and simultaneously conveyed precisely
how difficult he was finding it to restrain himself from leaping on her there
and then. He tore his eyes from the passenger seat, and stared blankly out of
the window.

Directing them back to the matter at hand,
Jenny asked, ‘Why did you want to see me today?’

‘I wanted the chance to get to know you
outside of sex. To ask you about
you
.
To see if you exist on a Friday as well as a Tuesday. Is that okay?’

Jenny nodded, and took her chance to say
what she badly wanted to say before she chickened out. ‘Look, honey, I know you
like that I’ve had sex with women, but that hardly makes me unique. Loads of
girls try it with other women – it’s fun, so why not? But with me, it’s
more…’ With her nails digging into her palms, she took a sustaining breath, and
went on. ‘Look, perhaps I should tell you just exactly how far away from my
usual type you actually are.’