101 Erotic Nights: The Sheherazade Diaries. The Diarists Secret
Читать онлайн книгу.
say anyone can draw if they practice enough. He taught me the principles of perspective one hot balmy day in Uzes … enough Beth, enough!
I’ve fetched my pad and charcoal from the bottom of the wardrobe. Miles is still asleep. I draw his face, every line and crease so familiar and I fall further in love with every stroke. His kind of love, constant, honest.
I’m tired now. It’s already tomorrow. I need some sleep.
Day Two – Tuesday 24th September
7.48 am
Miles has woken me with a cup of tea, kissed me on the head and gone off to work. I feel awful. I’m all tangled up in the duvet. My drawing pad is on the floor and there are charcoal marks over the sheets. Did I really draw Miles last night? Haven’t lost the skills then. Wonder if he noticed?
Can’t be bothered getting up, but must. First class is at 9. They’ll be expecting their essays back. The tea is good. Miles knows I like Earl Grey with lemon in the morning. He thinks it’s very middle class! I feel so tired … that dream?
Okay, up girl! Short cycle to work will get me going.
10.30 am
Coffee break – starving. Have taken a pastry from the canteen and am now sitting at my desk. Julie is wondering why I’m not staying to gossip as usual – told her I had work to do. The class were restless today, maybe it’s just me. Found the cycle run hard today, seemed uncomfortable! Maybe I need a new seat, maybe one of those soft gel ones for ladies! Don’t want to get a thrush infection at this stage in proceedings! Thinking of tonight’s story … Maybe I could just read Ghassan again since he fell asleep halfway through.
Text from Miles:
>>> Hi sweetie, sorry I fell asleep last night! Did you have a nice dream? Xxxx
How did he know about my dream …?
12.38 pm
Lunch. No time to write. ‘Leaving’ lunch for James the technician. He’s off on a world trip. Lucky him. Have bored him to death already with tales of my gap year!
5.59 pm
Busy afternoon. Too much paperwork. Home now.
Stripped the bed. Must not use charcoal in bed again! The drawing is good. Make a mental note to do some more.
Imogen’s on the phone.
“How’s it going Beth? Did he like Ghassan?”
“Hi Imo! He fell asleep.”
“Early days Beth, early days. Have you got one for tonight?”
“Maybe!”
“Okay I’m sending you an email with a PDF of some stuff you might find useful and I’ve challenged the writer’s club to come up with some stories for you!”
“Okay, that’s great, thanks Imo!”
“No probs! See you later. Bye…”
Oh God! It all feels so public somehow. Even though her club is online and anonymous, it still feels like other people are taking over. I’ll reserve judgement until I see what transpires but I must find some stuff myself.
What will I do for tonight’s story? Last night was a bit disappointing and I can’t get the ‘dream’ out of my head. Did it really happen? If it did, then Miles wasn’t so sleepy after all! I’m going to try and scribble it down before he comes home. This will be tonight’s offering. I’ll call it ‘2.00 am.’ I’ll write it from his point of view, that should give him a surprise!
7.35 pm
Managed to write something. Hope he isn’t shocked!
He should be home soon. It’s his squash night. There’s an M&S Jalfrezi in the fridge. I’m sitting watching Game of Thrones on Sky eating macaroni and cheese. I’m trying a vegetarian phase. Laurent was vegan. Very challenging. I found Miles such a relief after all of that – he’ll eat anything!
8.58 pm
He’s still not home. I’m having a cup of camomile tea. Will watch the news.
Ariel Castro has been found dead in his cell. David Cameron on Syria. Mall shooting in Kenya. Depressing stuff.
Thank goodness, I can switch this off – Miles is home!
11.45 pm
I am so embarrassed!
Miles came in. Heated up his meal and sat with me on the sofa. TV went back on. He wanted to hear about the elections in Germany … Arghh… I took out my Kindle and read some poetry, to get ideas. Then I got fed up.
“Do you want to go to bed soon, Miles? I’ve got another story. I think you’ll like it!”
“Sorry that I fell asleep last night Beth, it was very relaxing!”
He pulled me close but continued to watch the News Channel.
“I did have a nice dream by the way.”
“What?”
“Your text!”
He had forgotten.
“Busy day. Difficult day.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Hmm … better not. Too upsetting, want to forget about it.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk.”
“You wouldn’t like it, Beth. Had to sign a baby into care because his mother had burned his legs with a cigarette.”
“Oh Miles.”
“And more of the same. Why do people have kids? It’s a fuck awful world to bring them into!”
It’s so unusual for Miles to swear and he had descended into his ‘I don’t want any kids’ argument which I found hard to deal with. I left him sitting on the sofa and went to bed. I heard him play some jazz on the CD player and knew he would come to bed soon. When he did I held him close and kissed him softly on the lips.
“I wrote this for you Miles, to thank you for last night. It’s called ‘2 am’.”
2. “2 am”
He could not sleep and looked at the clock, 2 am. He looked across at his wife lying on her back, sleeping peacefully. Her silk chemise had ridden up and he gazed at her beautiful pussy illuminated by the silvery harvest moon.
He moved his head down and planted tiny kisses on her stomach and thighs. Then very gently he parted her legs. He lightly licked her labia, just pushing into her a little. He loved to give cunnilingus to his wife. Not because she might then reciprocate, but because he loved the softness of his tongue and lips against the softness of her clitoris and pussy lips. The closeness and intimacy, the taste and the smell, it was as though he were performing an act of worship to her femaleness.
With his thumb and forefinger he parted her inner lips and darted his tongue against the liquid walls of fleshy softness. With the tip of his tongue he lifted the hood and then licked her clit with slow tender strokes of his rough tongue, exploring her and relishing her smoothness. He stroked his tongue against her a little harder, a little faster. He carried on. Increasing the pressure then barely touching her. Slowing down, then speeding up. He heard his wife moan softly in her sleep and then he tasted the sweet honeydew from her pussy, glistening in the moonlight.
He put his head back on the pillow. It was 2.30. With a sudden rush he felt an overwhelming love for his wife. Then, weary, he drifted into contented sleep.
“Was this your dream, Beth?”
I