Wednesday, 5 December 2012

An Antidote To Writers Block (Part 37) Soldier Blue

When I awoke on Tuesday morning, early riser in hand, I reflected on the previous days events and determined it to be the best bonfire night I had ever had.
I didn’t even bother chastising myself for yet another notch on my totem of betrayal I just had to accept my shortcomings for the time being anyway.
Still gripping my horn I lustily anticipated revisiting Mahajak’s for some more customer servicing.
I do like the small shop ethos of being open all hours.
The good news was that Omid was still in hospital and would be for at least another week the bad news however was that Anjuli would only be visiting every other day.
I could quiet easily cope with only tasting her delights every other day
The thought of what had happened the night before and of what was to possibly still to come was not diminishing my erection so I took myself off to the shower to deal with it.

After my satisfying shower I set to work and I spent a day outlining future chapters and then spent the rest of the week on Gerald’s stories.
On the Thursday Lionel phoned me to say he had found a number of small publishers who he thought might be interested and could I send him any more finished pieces.
One of whom, he said, on hearing that the sample story was taken from a live recording by the author suggested releasing them as a recording.
I thought that might be a great idea the stories really did come alive when he told them, far more than my written format.

Having locked myself away from the sinful world for the best part of four days as I worked on the transcribed stories it was something of a relief to get out of the house and when I emerged from my home on Friday morning on a cold November morning it was in response to another phone call from Lionel Blum who had the name of an audio expert, or “whiz kid” as Lionel called him, who he had engaged to clean up the Overend recordings.
I liked the idea of a much wider section of people having the opportunity to bask in the illuminating light that shone from Gerald as he spoke.
But I was uneasy about handing over the tapes to a complete stranger, whiz kid or not.
In the end I reached a compromise with Lionel who suggested releasing into the “whiz kids” possession a small selection of tapes and after reviewing their quality a decision would be made how to proceed further.
Some of the recordings were just of Gerald speaking into a microphone and they were the most complete in terms of content, but the other ones where he recorded secretly as he told the tales to an enraptured audience.
So I selected ten recordings, five with an audience and 5 without on a variety of different media and slipped them into my inside coat pocket and away I went.
I called in at Mahajak’s on the way to the station and flirted with the two women as usual.
“How’s Omid?” I asked Shula
“He’s doing well” She replied Aunt Anjuli is going to see him tonight, aren’t you aunty”
Anjuli nodded and smiled in response
I gave Shula a wink and she smiled at me.
“Give him my best wishes,” I said to Aunt Anjuli
“I will, I will” she replied happily
“And while you give him my best wishes I will be giving his wife something else” I thought to myself

Once I had disembarked in Kiddingstone I took the first cab on
The rank and we quickly headed towards the address supplied.
When we pulled up outside the Sound Bite Studio’s I was in truth not impressed.
The premises were drab and dingy and quite frankly uninspiring.
My first instinct was to get the cab to return me to the station but Lionel had said he was an expert so I decided I would at least meet the “whiz kid”.
I paid the cab driver and walked towards the unimpressive front entrance.
Failing to locate a doorknob, I placed my hand on the push plate and put my weight behind it but the door didn’t open to my touch.
I looked to the left and saw an intercom so I pushed the buzzer.
Then the speaker crackled and a tinny voice said
“Simon Fisher to see Marcus Crossfield” I shouted at the wall
“Come up” the voice said and the lock, buzzed
I repeated my previous action with the door and this time it yielded.
On entering the dimly lit lobby my first thought was that at least it was in keeping with the fa├žade.
I trudged up the stairs wishing I’d stayed at home but when I pushed open the door at the top of the staircase I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Everything was shinny chrome and bright lights and there was hi-tech equipment everywhere, it was such a stark contrast to the outside.
“Can I help?” a voice said in a manner that conveyed anything but the desire to help.
Also I couldn’t help smiling as I thought I had done the speaker quality a disservice as the girl actually had a tinny voice.
She was a small girl in her mid twenties, Gloria, according to the name on her coffee mug, and she was about 4ft 10” quite slim but with the most enormous tits, rather too big for my taste, they were almost in the realm of comedy breasts, totally out of proportion to her tiny frame.
They were displayed in a very low cut black top and looked like two bald men sharing a coat.
Her face was not an attractive one but I suppose when you have tits like that, most men wouldn’t even notice her face.
“Yes” I said, “I’m here to see Marcus Crossfield”
“Name?” she barked
“Simon Fisher” I replied rather sharply as I’d already told her all of this over the intercom.
“Wait here” she ordered and walked away
I assumed that the boss employed her because of the size of her nork's and not for her expertise or personality.
A few moments later she returned
“This way” Gloria called and led me to my appointment, I have to say that her arse end was much more pleasing to my eye than her frontage.
When we reached Marcus Crossfield’s office she stepped to one side and grunted
“In there”
I stepped through the open door and was greeted by a middle-aged man dressed like a used car salesman, some whiz kid, I thought.
“Simon” he said standing up and proffering his hand.
I took his hand
“Marcus” I said shaking his hand, he certainly shook hands like a salesman.
“Please call me Marc,” he said pointing, “Take a seat”
I sat and thought Lionel had clearly been given some bad information about Mr. Crossfield and I thought there was little chance I would remain there for long.
“I must apologize for Gloria, she’s a lousy receptionist but did you get an eyeful of those magnificent jugs?” he said almost drooling
I wasn’t in the mood for male bonding so I pressed on him the reason for our meeting.
“Lionel Blum tells me you come highly recommended”
“Well not me” he interrupted “it’s my company but Tilly is the genius”
He stood up and walked around the desk
“I’ll introduce you” he said and led me along a corridor and into an office/studio, which had computers and mixing desks and every gadget imaginable, clearly Tilly was the whiz kid.
And sitting at a console was a young woman wearing headphones.
“Tilly?” Marcus shouted.
And she looked up, smiled and took off her headphones
Tilly was a tall girl, stick thin, with no visible bust line at all, clearly behind Gloria in that particular queue, She had no hips and from behind she looked like a boy.
I ascertained she was probably mid to late twenties; she had a pretty face, even prettier when she smiled which she did as she approached.
“Tilly this is Simon Fisher” he said to her and then addressing me “and this is Tilly Bushe”
We shook hands and Marcus excused himself leaving me with skinny Minnie.
I was still a little uneasy about handing over the tapes, as the company hadn’t so far lived up to my expectations.
But Tilly explained what some of the equipment did and the process she would follow.
“The recordings will be quite safe” she assured me “the very first step is a high definition copy, to protect the integrity of the media”
“Ok” I said and handed over the tapes.
“Is that all of them?” she queried, “I understood there were a lot more”
“There are” I replied “but…”
“But you don’t trust me” Tilly concluded
“I don’t know you” I said “or what you are capable of”
“You will” she responded, “I promise”
“It’s just that these recordings were entrusted to me by Gerald Overend’s widow”
“I promise,” she repeated
So I took her at her word and left the recordings with her but she promised to have something for me soon.
But before I left she asked one last question
“I need a working title for the recordings”
I had given it some thought on my way over, I had already settled on “Tales From The Club House” for the written work.
And I remembered Gerald telling me one time that in his youth he was a big prog rock fan, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, Jethro Tull, Yes, that kind of stuff and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if it was a song title or a lyric but I chose something that seemed appropriate.
“Raconteur Troubadour” I told Tilly then she took me to lunch and
Elaborated to me the methods she would employ and I think she was flirting with me.
Anyway we had a nice lunch and we had covered all the technical stuff so over coffee it was time to change the tone.
“So what is Tilly short for?” I asked expecting her to say Mathilda
“It’s not short for anything” she said, “It’s a family name”
“So what’s your actual name then?” I pressed
“Oh God” she winced “do I have to say?”
“Is it so terrible?” I asked
“Yes it really is” she buried her face in her hands
“Then yes you definitely have to say,” I told her
“Ophelia” Tilly said
I thought about it for a moment and then the penny dropped and I burst out laughing
“Ophelia Bushe?” I asked still laughing
“Stop it, it’s not funny,” she said laughing herself
“Oh it really is” I responded.

Well it was a bright sunny morning outside St Lucy’s church where the villagers were thronging around the war memorial as the Remembrance Day parade, Representatives of all the service, a proud bunch of Old soldiers, all arms of the scouting fraternity, local dignitaries et al came to a halt.

It was nice to see the Vicar had returned, looking a little pale and drawn, but nonetheless back in harness.
“A family crisis” was the reason, circulating the village, for her absence the week before.
I felt there was more to it than that but it was good to see her back.
It was a good service and then the village duly paid its tribute to the fallen in the time-honoured fashion.
I always felt a little humbled afterwards honouring those men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice, and if they had known the outcome their actions would not have differed.
I often wondered if the modern generation would be so resolute faced with the same challenges, I thought it doubtful.
Anyway I preferred to spend the rest of the day alone with my thought and so declined the invitation for lunch at the pub and headed home.

I walked along the quiet path that separated the houses from the golf course and was rather enjoying the peace and solitude.
When I was felled and left lying prostrate on the ground and then I felt a great weight on my chest
“Oh God” I thought, “I’m having a heart attach”
I closed my eyes and dark thoughts filled my mind and I wondered if I would be reduced to passive sex for the rest of my life, however short that life might be.
“Simon Fisher” a quiet voice spoke to me and I thought God is calling me to him, my time is over.
I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed, and not just about being taken at 29, I was expecting a great booming voice, a more commanding voice, not a soft female voice with an American accent.
And then I was appalled to think that God was an American, they get bloody everywhere, and a woman.
“Come on you wuss” the voice, said not very Godly and the weight lifted from my chest and I began to rise.
“Are you ok?” the voice asked, “Did I hurt you?”
I opened my eyes expecting to be at the gates of heaven but I was on the same path where I fell.
Being addressed by a soldier
“Are you ok?” the soldier asked
“Yes” I said a little puzzled
Then the soldier removed her hat
“Dakota”? I said with surprise
“Yep” she replied
“You didn’t say you were in the army” I was still surprised
“You didn’t ask” she replied
“No I didn’t,” I acknowledged
“That’s why I’m staying with Uncle Will” She explained “I’m on extended leave before we deploy”
“Where to?” I asked
“I can’t say” Dakota Replied. “Anyway, are you ok?”
“Yes” I said dusting my self-down
“You went down like a girl,” she said laughing hysterically
“On a Sunday in Bushy Down we don’t expect to be attacked in the woods by a ninja “
She was still laughing when she said
“Are we going back to yours then”?

“I do like a bird in uniform” I thought as we were walking back to the house.
Now I don’t know if it’s just a man thing or not, I don’t think it is.
I mean I’ve heard women go on about fireman a lot and they generally have a wistful look in their eye when doing so.
But what I do know is that it can’t just be me I mean uniforms are just phwoar.
Dakota was still ribbing me about how easy I went to ground as we walked down the lawn to the back door.
Dakota Browning’s uniform was well, as uniforms go I’ve seen sexier, it wasn’t the tailored skirt and tunic, brass buttons and polished belt, peaked cap, seamed stockings and khaki knickers kind of uniform.
It was yomping boots, combat trousers and battle dress jacket, although I was still hoping for khaki knickers.
But a uniform is a uniform and she was completely hairless remember.
I opened the door and let Dakota inside she bent down and began unlacing her boots.
I went in the hall and hung up my coat and slipped my shoes off and when I went back in the kitchen Dakota was stood on the back door mat wearing a Khaki vest, boxer shorts and her dog tags.
“That will do for me,” I thought, as I looked her over
“I don’t have long” she said “I have to report back to barracks on Tuesday”
Then she walked towards me and we kissed.
“We’d better not waste any more time then” I suggested and we kissed some more.
He body was solid, firm and muscular, and I’m sure she could have carried me off to bed if she wanted to.
“Where do want me sir?” she asked and threw a salute
“I think I want you upstairs soldier” I replied “on the double”
And she turned on her heels and ran upstairs I ran after her discarding clothes as I went.
When I entered the bedroom I was wearing one sock and my pants.
Dakota was stood facing me and pulled the vest off over her head and smiled as her breasts rearranged themselves before my eyes.
“Uncle Will told me that you have a reputation,” she said as I removed my errant sock “apparently everyone says that you’re a dog”
“People are prone to exaggerate,” I said as I dropped my pants
“Oh I do hope not” she responded looking at my erection
My pants were around my ankles and I lifted one foot out of the leg and kicked them at her face she threw out a hand to catch them and in that split second of distraction I crossed the room and manhandled her onto the bed.
“That’s dirty fighting” she yelped as I got her on her back and pinned her there
“Well GI Jane what are you going to do now?” I asked holding her immobilized on the bed
“I’m going to let you fuck me,” she said and I kissed her and her tongue was in my mouth in an instant.
Darting in and out as my hand released its grip on her wrist and instead grasped one of her firm breasts.
Her arms were around me now, her hands caressing my torso as I played with her nipple.
I stopped kissing her and she licked her lips and I began kissing my way down her skin from her neck to her pink proud nipple.
I licked her areola before taking the teat between my lips and sucking on it noisily.
Dakota wriggled beneath me and murmured contentedly as I suckled and her chest was rising and falling as her heart pounded in my ear.
With a slurp I released her swollen misshapen nipple and my lips began there journey south, kissing along the rim of her rib cage and down across her belly, a flick of my tongue in her belly button
And she squirmed.
I was knelt on the floor between her legs looking up at her, head turned to one side, mouth open, eyes closed, her tongue constantly licking her lips in anticipation.
I reached up my hands to her belly and slipping my fingers between the waistband of her shorts and her quivering flesh I tugged them gently over her hips and off her firm round buttocks and slowly down her thighs towards her knees and then they slipped easily passed her ankles.
And there she was naked and hairless before me, if she was at all self-conscious she didn’t show it.
She just squirmed a little and continued licking her lips.
And I was about to do the same.
I pushed her knees slightly apart and lean forward and starting where I had left off I kissed my way down from her navel to her silky smooth hairless mound.
She spread her thigh invitingly and there was her perfect soft naked pussy, the most aesthetically pleasing pussy I had ever seen
No razor burn, no stubble, no pimples, just a silky smooth mound and soft unblemished lips and as my lips moved to touch hers I thought the skin was the softest my lips had ever touched.
Then I open her with my tongue and she moaned in a hot velvety purr, a sound repeated often as I worked on her with my tongue until her back arched, her fanny farted and the velvet purr became a gravelly growl.
Dakota sat up and lifting my head from her juicy lips she kissed me and her spare hand began tugging on my cock.
As she kissed me I pushed her thighs wide open and let her guide my purple head between her moist lips.
As soon as I could feel her syrupy juice around my head I thrust my pelvis forward and I was in.
She stopped kissing me and let out the dirtiest whorish moan I’d ever heard, I hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Dakota wrapped her arms around my neck, her face was pressed against mine and I could feel every moan that came from her as well as hearing it, it was incredibly sensual, dirty and pure at the same moment.
Her thighs squeezed my hips in response to every thrust.
But the soldier was tiring and she released her grip around my neck and fell backward onto the bed, her thighs still gripped on and now her legs wrapped around my arse.
Dakotas head was rolling back and forth and she was moaning almost continually, her hands had grasped handfuls of duvet as she writhed and wriggled.
And I was so close, I slid my hands along her soft skin and cupped her full round breasts as I rushed headlong to the point of ecstasy, and then with one final nerve tingling thrust, Dakota roared as I jerked, spasm’d and spaffed.
“Woof” I barked to the hairless panting creature beneath me and Dakota laughed between the panting and her pussy jiggled my cock, which made me laugh.
In the after glow on that November afternoon we cuddled under the duvet very snug and smug.
“Can I stay tonight”? She asked
“Of course hon” I replied and kissed her bald head
“Good” she said and we fell asleep but awoke two hours later refreshed and horny.

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