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Summer Heat – Part Seventeen

24 January, 2013

When I started writing this it was going to be a series of erotic shorts, an excuse to write a load of rude stuff. The theme of the regular characters would legitimise the whole thing, i thought, would make me less embarrassed to be writing random slices of erotica. But then I found I was interested in the characters, who they were, what brought them together, what they were thinking while they were together and more importantly while they were apart. It became less about them as  sexual partners and more about them as people. I started out writing porn, you might say, but got sidetracked by plot.

You can decide for yourself whether you prefer the sex or the characterisation interludes by clicking here and reading the previous sixteen parts. And then you can read on with part seventeen below which again does not have any sex in it.


Summer Heat – Part Seventeen

The closing credits rolled as the audience on the Graham Norton Show clapped and cheered another Friday night’s comedy, chat and music. Jessica flicked the off button on the remote, and dropped the controller onto the cushion alongside her. The Irish comedian usually made her laugh, the stories in the red chair made her cringe, but this week she felt hadn’t enjoyed the show at all, she had felt flat and she couldn’t work out exactly why. Or more accurately she was fairly certain why, but didn’t want to admit this to herself, to admit defeat. She put her cigarettes and lighter in her jeans pocket, pulled on a thin white cardigan, and headed downstairs.

It had been four days since the lunch with Toby – she didn’t want to call it a date anymore – and he still had not been in contact. She had been checking her phone regularly all week, listening out for a text or a call which never came. Simon had called her of course, the morning after she had seen him, gone to the pub with him, come home with him, slept with him, been disappointed by him. He had told her he would call, and he had kept his word. But when his name flashed onto the phone’s display, Jessica had screened his call. She had considered answering him, seeing him again, giving him another chance. Maybe it was first night nerves on his part that had left her feeling unfulfilled. Maybe if they went out again, just for drinks, she would be more receptive to him and there might be a chemistry. Maybe she was still smarting from Toby that night and as much has she had been desperate to continue her wild weekend further by experiencing another night of surprising and revealing lovemaking, a night alone would have been better for her.

Or maybe she just wanted Toby, and nobody else would be good enough. And maybe this, she wondered, was another reason why she had ignored Simon’s calls. Each time he called, each time he left a sweet voicemail telling her how cute she was, how much fun that night had been, how he so wanted to see her again, she felt hurt that it wasn’t her neighbour upstairs calling. She wanted Toby to call her, to text her, to send her pictures, to flatter her, to flirt with her, to visit her, to kiss her, to strip her, to go down on her. But she did not want to admit this to herself, or to let herself believe that the reason nobody else would do, why it had to be him, was because after that one incredible weekend, she had fallen for him. And he didn’t want to know.

She sat on the tree trunk bench, blew wafts of blue smoke into the night air. She had been dismissing Simon’s invitations and advances all week, building a defensive wall of imagined prior engagements and sudden headaches, and his interest seemed to now be fading. Even though today was Friday, an ideal night for him to ask her out again, he had not called or texted. And neither had Toby.

The thought of texts called her to pull her phone from her jeans pocket again, to confirm that there were no messages. She flicked the browser open to Facebook, scrolled through the updates posted in her news feed since she last checked in an hour ago. She ignored the notification of a personal message, it would probably be from Simon. She closed the browser, returned to the phone’s homescreen, and before she was conscious of her actions, had opened the photo gallery. She deeply inhaled on her cigarette as she swiped past pictures she had taken during the week, smiling as she recalled the nights with her girl friends, sipping glasses of wine. And then there was Toby. Smiling cheekily, laid on his bed in just his boxers. Then her and Toby, taken at arms length, snuggling close together. Her finger kept swiping the pictures, her head telling her to stop, to delete the pictures, to move on, but her heart telling her how much she missed him, how much she enjoyed being with him. She looked back over her shoulder at his open window, wondered if he was still awake. There was no sign of movement and she breathed in more smoke, holding it in her lungs as she turned back to her phone, swiped another picture. Her and Toby, lying together on her bed, naked and unashamed. His hand cupping her breast, her free hand stroking his growing erection, both of their faces alight with anticipation. And happiness.

The memories of last weekend caused a flutter in her stomach, a surge of passion, and she felt a tug of desire between her legs, a trickle of honey. More pictures, her posing, him posing, their hands wandering across their own bodies.

With a deep sigh, she came back to the present, to her senses. She would not give him the satisfaction or herself the humiliation of being turned on by him. He was over, he had made his choice. He wasn’t worth it.

She lingered on one picture, a close up of his hand slipping inside her, and steeled herself to press delete.

She jumped as she sensed someone arrive, and turned, hurriedly closing the gallery.

“You’ve kept all our pictures,” Toby said, “So have I.”


  1. TheOthers1 permalink

    Good, I’m glad he showed up again. I was beginning to wonder. Building all that anticipation and I’m waiting for a fabulous climax. 🙂

  2. I am loving this! I jumped right in, but I’m anxious to read the first 16! And I will… 😉 ~ Jen

  3. Oooh! Yay! Go Toby! 🙂

    I’m really liking this story, TRG. It’s like finding little golden nuggets in my WP-reader. Thank you for writing it.

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