The door trembled slightly under the pressure of three, lazy raps upon it, administered by a woman’s slender hand. She was my world. All the men I had ever known. And more. As the echoing of her
final knock slowly died away, my heightened anticipation was exposed in the silent room; the only audible disturbance being my increasingly rapid, shallow breaths and heart hammering, rattling my
rib cage with every lust-driven beat. I could bear it no longer and, hurrying to the front door, could feel the familiar fleshy bumps of excitement line my forearms, intertwining with last summer’s
countless freckles. As I reached for the doorknob, my hand was a falling autumn leaf, shaking in the October breeze. I slowly, almost painfully, opened the door to behold the indescribable beauty
that stood before me. Hundreds of times I had gone through these paces yet each time the nervous, adrenalin-fuelled rushed ceased to fade.
Laurel. Even her name was exquisite enough to conjure up the most delicious scenes of summer blooms and endless Mediterranean vineyards, overbrimmed with luscious fruit. Yet these images could
never compare to Laurel herself. My personal goddess, heroine and saviour. Her smile. Her eyes. Everything so perfectly designed and crafted by God’s most skilled artists. My eyes immediately
dropped to the floor to meet a pair of ruby wedges, cheekily concealing all but a hint of manicured toenails dipped in blood. The crimson varnish subtly reflected the August sunshine and replaced
the nails with precious gems. Travelling upwards, my eyes rested on shapely calves, toned to perfection and then a flowing skirt came into view, cruelly hiding the perfect thighs that my fingers
knew how to trace so well, a smooth outline of the softest skin. Then her tiny waist. And my hands were longing to wrap themselves around, holding her close. Further up, enhanced by a plunging
neckline were her breasts. Those pearly mounds of fruitfulness, feathery to the touch and again my hands could remember well how exquisitely they could rest in my palms, so sensuous and the very
essence of a woman. Finally, framed by tumbling brunette locks was Laurel. Her face and the pathway to her soul, a route I had walked so many times, the twisting lanes and shadowy trees, I knew
every detail as if it were my own. It was my own. She was mine and I hers, our very beings interlaced for eternity.
Our eyes met and our worlds collided, happy to be once again in each other’s embrace. Daring not to shatter this idyllic moment with even a breathy whisper of her name, I simply opened my arms and
she immediately filled them. Our hands were searching over each other’s bodies, remind ourselves of every curve and texture so as to imprint it firmly and forever onto our memories. And then her
lips found mine with such urgency I felt tear well up and my cheeks became suddenly wet with tears of sheer elation.
“Scarlet, my god, I’ve missed you,” she rasped, her voice almost inaudible among the snatched breaths and
clumsy, passionate kisses.
Too soon, I felt her tight grip slacken. She held me at arm’s length and stared deep into my eyes; muddy green pools of delight. Then she smiled, and the bright summer’s evening seemed overcast in
comparison. Her shy, endearing smile that made her brown eyes twinkle was the very definition of infectious and my mouth immediately mirrored hers, in lovers’ symmetry. Suddenly a giggle escaped my
lips as I realised we were still standing on the porch of the house.
“Come in, my darling!” I exclaimed, hurriedly taking her two patterned suitcases into the hall. No sooner
had I placed the luggage on an area of particularly creaky floorboards, did I feel a gentle breath upon my neck and two arms lovingly grasped me from behind. More than pleasantly surprised, I let
out a tinkling chuckle and allowed myself to be led into my bedroom. There, Laurel, in her usual excitable fashion that I loved so much, dived onto the bed, urging me to follow suit. Within seconds
we were an entwinement of pillows, limbs and bed sheets with Laurel shrieking and squirming as I alternated between tickling and planting kisses on every available area of exposed flesh. Eventually
our laughter subsided and I toppled down to lie beside her, my head gently resting in the crook of her shoulder. She began to stroke the top of my hair hypnotically and I snuggled closer until my
head began to slowly undulate with each steady rise and fall of her breathing.
“I love you,” she whispered, breaking the silence.
“Oh, Laurel,” I replied. “I love you more than anything. When I saw you standing there at the door I
couldn’t believe you were mine. You’re beautiful and I’m the luckiest girl alive.”
“What a load of bullshit,” she said “but you know how much I like the slushy romantic stuff.”
“Everything I said is true!” I protested, before sliding a hand under her blue top while she began to
close her eyes and smile with pleasure. “I’m lucky, you’re bloody gorgeous. Now kiss me!” Not opening her eyes, Laurel bent her head until our lips met once again. This time our embrace was more
meaningful, an exchange of a thousand ‘I love you’s’ in the space of a second. I gently opened my mouth and hers responded at once. Our tongues circled and darted, leaving our hands to stroke and
caress. I felt a warmth stir below and my breasts began to tingle under Laurel’s touch. Her deft hands crept under my thin cotton dress and gently slid off my briefs in one fluid motion. I found
her bra fastening and expertly unhinged it, with the same effortlessness. Laurel, unable to bear our restricting clothes any longer, violently pulled away from my lips and ripped off her top and
bra and the, slightly more delicately, removed her remaining clothes before ridding me of my own. At last we were naked and the sensation of her cool flesh against mine was almost too much to
withstand. Everything was perfect.
My searching tongue found her dark nipples and massaged them until they formed delicious hard buds. She traced my breasts with her long fingers, varying the pressure, teasing. Then her
skilful fingers slowly started to work their way down my body until they found their resting place. Warm and wet, with tendrils of curling black hair. She stroked me there. Achingly slow at first
then more quickly and finally varying the speed until all I could do was let out a moan of pure pleasure as I leapt from my body, flying through galaxies. Returning to Earth, I felt kisses all over
my body and then gently opened my eyes to see Laurel staring down at me, a look of utter devotion spreading across her features. I hugged her tightly before wriggling my body down the bed to her
very own pearly cave. As I increased the pressure, her body arched in response and stifled cries of ‘Scarlet, Scarlet!’ filled the room. She climaxed, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks and I
went to hold her in her final moments of ecstasy. Laurel squeezed me tighter and buried her face in my shoulder while I softly stroked the smooth skin of her belly.
“Never leave me again,” she breathed.
“Never,” I replied and, falling asleep, we lay as one, only to be woken by the blinding first light of
dawn streaming through the open windows.
I could tell this summer was going to be every bit as perfect as I had imagined. Now with Laurel by my side it seemed as though anything was possible. Early the next morning as I couldn’t get back
to sleep, I decided to make my love a splendid breakfast to officially welcome her home and back into my arms. The only problem was that my cookery skills left a lot to be desired but I knew the
smile on Laurel’s face would be worth the trauma. I managed to conjure up a rather uninviting plate of scrambled eggs which hopefully tasted better than they looked and, as I started to clatter
about setting the table, Laurel wandered through, sleepy and dishevelled but nonetheless utterly gorgeous. I just couldn’t resist skipping up to her, giving her a rib-crushing hug before tenderly
scattering good-morning kisses all over her face.
“Sleep well?” I grinned. I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. Laurel was the heaviest
sleeper I knew, not even a raging thunderstorm a few years ago had been able to wake her from her slumber. She was always out for the count the moment her head touched the pillow which
unfortunately deadened any chances of spontaneous midnight love-making but I knew there were plenty of other opportunities...
My mind started to wander as I remembered the day Laurel and I first met. Some may say it was an unconventional meeting but we like to call it destiny. August 16th 2006, I was feeling
slightly out of place at a tattoo parlour in London. My younger, and rather more rebellious younger sister Mary who was already adorned with multiple piercings, had decided on a tattoo to add to
her collection of bodily embellishments. And, of course, being the supportive big sister that I was, had been dragged along for moral support. When Mary had finally decided on a suitable design,
she sat down on the tattooing chair, exposing her left shoulder and braced herself for the pain of having a butterfly permanently inked onto her bare flesh. Although I held her hand in support
and offered various words of encouragement, my mind was somewhere else completely and my eyes had become transfixed on the curvy, yet exceedingly graceful figure standing in the doorway.
It was Laurel, of course, but at the time I just presumed she was another beautiful woman infatuated by some buffoon of a boyfriend. It looked as if my predictions were scarily accurate
because, no sooner had she stepped into the shop, did an equally attractive male follow suit ‘Urgh...men’ I thought, before returning my gaze back to the sumptuous being I had laid eyes on
only moments before. Except I had quite a surprise when I realised she was returning my stare, grinning mischievously. I couldn’t help but to smile myself. Don’t get your hopes up, Scarlet.
She’s obviously straight. Remember the boyfriend? Immediately I snapped out of my daydream and turned my wistful smile into an encouraging grimace for Mary in her last few minutes of pain. When
the tattoo was complete and after Mary had squealed loudly one too many times in delight, she hurried to the toilet, leaving me with a thick wad of notes to pay for her tattoo. As I walked up to
the front desk, not really aware of my surroundings, I was violently bumped and almost fell to the floor.
“Oops, sorry!” came a gravelly voice from somewhere to my right. I turned to see Laurel’s boyfriend with
his nose buried deep in one of the design books, obviously trying to make the difficult decision. Without warning, there was a cool hand on my shoulder.
“Please excuse Max, my brother can be so inconsiderate sometimes!”
“Brother?!” Maybe it came out a little too loud and excited than appropriate but I didn’t care, I was just
happy that I might have a chance with Laurel after all, although whether she played for my team was an entirely different kettle of fish. Thankfully, she graciously laughed off my outburst and
“I’m Laurel, and this great oaf is my oldest brother Max.” I chuckled at this introduction before
“Scarlet Matisse, and the girl in the loo is my sister Mary. So I see we’ve both been dragged along here
for the same purpose. Supporting siblings in their time of need? What a coincidence!”
“Haha, well I can assure you I wouldn’t touch this place with a bargepole if it wasn’t for Max; I am
totally pathetic when it comes to pain.” We had little time to say much else before Mary reappeared, grabbing my hand, wanting to leave and show off her newly decorated shoulder to everyone in
sight. As we walked out the door, Laurel took hold of my left hand, stopping me in my tracks, and carefully rolled up the sleeve of my shirt to scribble her mobile number in a vibrant orange
permanent marker she had produced from her bag.
“Call me,” she whispered. I most certainly would.
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