Teardrops
Sad erotic tales by Jacqueline Applebee
http://www.writing-in-shadows.co.uk
Teardrops
Published by Jacqueline Applebee at Smashwords
Copyright © 2010, 2011
ISBN: 978-1-4581-7872-5
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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About the author
Jacqueline Applebee is a black, British, bisexual writer who breaks down barriers with smut. Jacqueline’s short stories have appeared in anthologies such as Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, and Ultimate Lesbian Erotica. She is currently working on her breakthrough novel, which will enable her to quit her day job, and live in a lighthouse with a few adoring fans..
Teardrops
Sad erotic tales
Introduction
Dancing in the dark
My mother’s voice
Pieces of me
Boys next door
British Summertime
Muscle Memory
Introduction
Are you only happy when it rains? Sad and melancholic tales of desire occur to me more than I wanted people to know; much more than seemed fitting for a happy-go-lucky creator of erotic fiction. As a writer I felt obliged to keep these bittersweet stories to myself, but now I’m taking a risk; I’m sharing these six sad, smutty tales with you. Be aware, there are more than kisses and flowers when it comes to lust. There are pierced hearts, wilting roses, and the ever present drip-drops of tears.
In Dancing in the dark, a woman hits rock bottom, only to discover that there are lovers waiting for her down there. My mother’s voice tells of a survivor of physical and mental abuse as she starts her recovery with sexual healing. In the paranormal story, Pieces of me, the central character is confined to her bed through illness, but that doesn’t stop her from having a wild time with multiple partners. Boys next door tells of a ‘standard Welsh loser’ whose first taste of sex drives him to an uncertain end. British Summertime is told moments before a flood hits. Finally Muscle Memory sees a woman who is fearful of losing her memories of past sexual exploits.
It is my desire that you find hope amongst these sad tales; that you are able to treasure all you have, and all that makes your life special. Especially the sex.
Dancing in the dark
Frieda’s birthday party was the last duty I had to perform. I carried her gift with me—a gold locket that I had inherited from a loveless aunt. I had no further need of possessions, but I wanted it to go to a good home all the same.
Frieda dangled the locket from its thin chain. She gasped with delight, but something must have shown on my face, because she asked me quietly, “Is anything wrong?”
I hugged my old friend, and dismissed her concerns. It was her birthday party, and I wasn’t going to spoil things by being melodramatic. I wasn’t about to start spilling my guts now.
I had arrived after ten, and the dance was in full swing. I had been in two minds about attending Frieda’s bash, but for some reason, my feet had moved of their own accord, so instead of popping by to give her my gift, and wish her well, I had stayed. The music caught me—it saved me really, because if I had walked on by that cold November night, and out into the fake-starlight of Blackpool’s illuminations, I wouldn’t be here now telling you about how things finally changed for me; how my life got to be so good.
As I adjusted to the warm room, I felt myself loosen up. My friend, Ted spotted me soon after I started shuffling to the classic tracks. Frieda was something of a Motown fan; I knew these songs, had heard them all my life. They were a part of me, a good part amidst all the bad.
Ted trotted up to me, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and then he moved to the music, occasionally looking up from behind his blonde fringe to smile shyly. It was almost painful to watch him dance; he looked so angelic, as if he didn’t have a problem in the world. My friend moved so beautifully; his whole body was in harmony with the music. It looked as if it had been composed especially for him. I thought about the real reason I had come here tonight, and blinked back tears.
The music changed suddenly to a Punk-Rock tune that had been popular a long time ago. As the track played, Ted’s movements grew wilder. He smiled as he bopped alongside me. I mouthed the words to the song as I danced, moving my body about in ways that I knew I’d regret later, but I went along with it. I had been feeling so bad lately, that this new sensation was more than welcome. Ted caught my eye, and he gazed at me, his intention clear upon his young face. I felt suddenly old dancing with him; I knew I was about ten years his senior. Where only moments before I had danced as if no one else were here, now I found myself rigid and brittle, feeling dozens of eyes on me, all looking at me make a spectacle of myself. I left Ted dancing to the track. I walked stiffly to the bar.
Soda water, ice and lime left me feeling hydrated, but lacking something other than alcohol. I stared intently into my glass, watched the thousands of bubbles as they fizzed up to break the surface and escape into the outside world. I wanted to join them. I didn’t want to be here.
I realised that someone was looking at me. I glanced up and into the intense brown eyes of a man I vaguely knew, called Nathan.
“Saw you dancing out there,” he nodded back to the floor, where Ted was still throwing himself around to the thrashing beat. “You hold yourself back,” he stated, and then he took a sip from his shot glass. The amber liquid swirled in the small vessel, hypnotic as it moved. I hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol in three years, but right then, I could almost feel the burn of good whiskey, the scorch on my tongue and the biting tingle as it swept down my throat. I gulped, and the sensation went from my throat straight down to my pussy. I nervously licked my lips, and stifled a groan. At that point, I seriously considered leaning over and tasting the drink right from Nathan’s lips. I had nothing to lose.
“Maybe I could join you when they play something slower?” he asked, breaking my thoughts. “Maybe you’d let go with me.” He took another sip of his drink. I nodded, even though I didn’t know why he was even talking to me; I barely knew the man. I turned to move away, but I bumped straight into Ted as he breathlessly stepped into my space. He nodded a greeting to Nathan, but he seemed content to stay where he was, sandwiching me in between the two of them. I grunted with the effort of removing myself from the cramped space.
I turned my eyes back to the dance floor as the music changed once more. A slow tune played, and the space was instantly filled with couples sensually undulating to the music. Some caressed each other as they moved, stroking along arms and the swell of a chest, whilst others kissed, tonguing each other as they danced in time, never missing a beat. I squeezed my eyes shut; everything was too beautiful, the intimacy was too much for me.
When I glanced back to the bar, I was going to just wave goodbye to Ted and Nathan, but I was surprised to see them both in an embrace, holding each other loosely as they gazed into each other’s eyes. And then they both looked up at the same moment, and they smiled at me. I took an instinctive step back, but they moved quicker than I anticipated, and they pulled me into the middle of their huddle. I didn’t know what had come over them.
“Is something wrong?” Ted and Nathan asked together. Why did people keep asking me that? I shook my head, not to say no, but to dislodge the sad confused thoughts that were swirling around up there.
I felt myself being led by the two men out onto the floor. Nathan held me close, but just as we were about to start moving Ted slotted himself behind me, and looped his arms around my waist. For a crazy moment, I thought that this was some kind of a joke they were playing, but no one was laughing as the two men swept me around the room. We moved seamlessly; smoother than I ever thought possible for three people in an embrace. Nathan closed his eyes, but a wide happy smile made him look incredibly peaceful. He reached out his long arms, and brushed my shoulders, but then his hands went further, and he pulled Ted in even tighter to me. They linked hands, and then Nathan slowly kissed Ted’s wrist in a soft intimate gesture. I didn’t know why they were including me in this — they looked so good together, and I was certain that they didn’t need someone like me in the middle of it. I didn’t want this taste of happiness. I wanted to run away, far from everyone. I wanted to disappear. I felt as if my whole life was a mockery, and the only way for me to experience affection was as a strange surrogate for two lovers.
But I didn’t move, and I didn’t tell them to stop, I just continued to dance, watching the men as they enjoyed each other.
“Will you stay with us?” Ted asked, his breath on the back of my neck made me tingle. And even as I opened my mouth to say no, I began to experience something else. I heard the nervousness in Ted’s voice, saw the hopeful gleam in Nathan’s eyes. I felt, for the first time in a long time, wanted.
My heart beat a little faster. I nodded. We kept on dancing to the romantic tune, and every tune after that. When the evening ended and everyone else left, I wasn’t ready to stop. I blindly led the two men down the streets and avenues back to my small apartment. I had meant to never go back there after Frieda’s party, but I was willing to give my life another chance.
I didn’t switch on the lights when I ushered the men indoors. I just shuffled out of my coat, and continued to dance with them in the shadows of my room.
Ted held me from behind, wrapping long elegant fingers around my wrist. I could feel his hard on pressing against my ass, an insistent knock at the door. Nathan cupped my face; traced the outline of my features in the dark. I fingered the short bristly growth of his hair, smooth like suede. I wanted to feel it rubbing over my breasts.
Ted laid his face against my shoulder, and he licked along from my bra strap to my neck. I shuddered as he gently devoured me. I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. A mere two hours ago I had been ready to say goodbye to everything and everyone I had known, but right there and then, I was grateful to be alive, thankful to have two amazing men in my arms.
But then, just like that, the cold light of reality intruded in on us. Nathan fumbled in the gloom, and he flicked on my bedroom light. I stood beneath the bright yellow bulb, aware of what the two men must be seeing.
“What happened to your room?” Ted asked in a shocked tone. “Where’s all your stuff? Where the hell is your bed?”
I felt the blood rush to my face, feeling ashamed at the situation.
“I was going away,” I mumbled weakly. “I didn’t intend on coming back.”
I saw realisation in both their eyes as I spoke, and then I saw a softness replace that. They drew me to them once more. Nathan kissed me; a ferocious kiss that made my head reel with pleasure overload. He angled my face to gain better access to me, and he branded me with his lips, marking me so that I would never forget it. Ted twisted me about, even as I thought that I would die from Nathan’s kiss, only to consume me with one of his own.
“Stay with us,” Nathan’s voice was almost drowned out by my moans. “Don’t go.” He switched off the light.
Ted pulled me down to the floor, and we tumbled in our embrace, only ending when I sat astride him. Nathan knelt behind Ted, and held his hands, restraining him as he gyrated beneath me.
“I can’t believe you got rid of your bed,” Ted complained, and pushed his bulging erection against me. My body responded with a language of its own, as I unzipped Ted, and swallowed his dick in a single urgent gulp. Ted’s hips rocked beneath me as I sucked him. This was permanence, I thought as I wrapped my lips around his shaft. This was where I should be. I looked up to see Nathan holding Ted’s hands, but now he was using them to rub against his own hardness.
Nathan eased himself away from Ted reluctantly, but in a flash he was behind me, with his hot torso against my back. At first it felt like we were doing the conga, but as I felt him press fingers into me, I knew this was no ordinary dance. He threw a foil wrapper onto the floor. I gasped as I realised what was going to happen. Fingers twisted into me, and I writhed against them. A thicker blunter press came next, and this time, my dance partners helped me out when it became too much. I lay atop Ted, as he held me in a clinch. We could be dancing the tango from our pose, with my ass jutting out, and various legs angled all over the place. Nathan grunted as he surged inside me; halfway in he paused, but I pushed myself back onto him, flush with my other dance partner.
We moved as a threesome, dancing in the dark, making our own crazy music. The cheap carpet on the floor was unforgiving; the next day we all had friction burns on various bits of our body, but I felt alive. I felt so good that I didn’t care.
****
The years have passed, but our dance has never stopped. Sometimes others join us for a number, but we always return to three. We haven’t slowed over time, always kept up the tempo, holding each other as we move about the floor, the kitchen table or the bed we all bought together. I’ve been happier than I ever thought possible.
There’s something I didn’t tell you before, about the night I first started dancing with my partners. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live either. Instead of becoming a missing person, I found the two men who have made my life worth living.
I don’t know how I got so lucky that night all those years ago, but I’m glad that I did. I get to dance in the arms of my two special men for the rest of my days, and there isn’t a single thing I would change about that. I learnt the sounds my lovers made as they came is the sweetest song of all. The three of us are going to move along together, forever, and no matter what music they play, we’ll always keep dancing.
My mother’s voice
“Stupid idiot!” I swore to myself, tossing the wooden spoon across the room and into the kitchen sink with a clattering crash. Kier looked me up and down, and then crooked her finger. I stepped hesitantly up to and into her space. She leaned closer, and growled in my ear.
“I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself by dat name again.”
Kier never raised her voice at me, but she didn’t have to shout in order to make herself heard.
“I don’t need cooking lessons, I made a mistake just that once …” I began.
“Your best friend was violently ill after eating your undercooked chicken.” She pointed a finger at me, and I stepped back instinctively. “Preparing a meal for someone is a privilege, Justine. It’s not an excuse to put them into hospital.”
“But this is so rubbish; when am I ever going to serve up a bowl of boring soup to someone? Can’t I start on the meat first? Or how about desserts?”
“I am not going to repeat myself,” Kier interrupted. “I am not going to argue with you. You start with the basics first, or you can just go home and poison someone else.” And then she stepped back, folding her arms, nodding in the direction of the bubbling pot. “Do it,” she said with a growing Caribbean accent that got stronger, the more annoyed she became.
I gulped, wiping my sticky hands over my apron self-consciously. I went back to the vegetable soup.
That is how my first cooking lesson began. I’d been told that Kier was a goddess when it came to food; that she could make a gourmet meal from a half-empty cupboard. I’d heard that she used to work as a chef in a big hotel in West London, until she left several years ago, going freelance. She was certainly magnificent to look at, with warm brown skin, a proud head permanently covered in an African headscarf, big brown all-seeing eyes, and wide full lips that made me want to kiss them all day.
I should be so lucky. I was a fat awkward gal who possessed no exotic qualities whatsoever. My parents were from Barbados, but I had been born and raised in England. I had never even seen the Caribbean except on holiday programmes. I knew little about my heritage, and had never been encouraged to learn. Kier and I were like chalk and cheese, and it made me wonder why she had taken me on as a student. Surely her pity wasn’t that strong? Even when I caught her looking at me strangely a few times, I couldn’t put it down to desire; that would be silly. Her intense gaze just made me feel as if I had a grease stain on my clothes that I couldn’t see. Why would someone like her be interested in me?