Kirstie's Tale

I sit on the dune, staring out to sea where, under a stiff breeze the surf rolls in, tossing its white horses onto the beach.The surf fascinates me, frothing and boiling as it dances over the sand, holding me in its spell in the way a flame will hypnotise, enrapturing the eye. A million white foaming bubbles race and toss and die, only to be reborn on the next wave.The dogs frolic in the waves; at least Emma, Meg and Archie do. Mac is far too dignified to get wet, and he settles for exploring the strand line, poking through seaweed, dead crabs and driftwood. Sometimes, he finds a plastic bottle or other floater that he identifies as entertainment, bringing over his offering and inviting me to do something interesting with this enticing object, like play tag or fetch, or make it go...If I'm really lucky, he'll find a dead seagull and roll. As it is, the car is going to be full of salt and sand, but everyone, me included, will have had a good day's exercise. The sky is blue a

"You can ask.""Is Debbie really your name?""No, of course not. On a dating site like that, do you think I'm going to hand out my details to anyone before I've had a chance to meet up and eyeball them?""Very sensible. It's quite dangerous doing what you're doing, especially for a woman.""I'm careful. I follow the rules. No name. No address. Meet in a public place...""I'm pleased to hear it. Have you encountered any...?" He hesitates."Freaks? Looneys? Yes, a few. Most of them I manage to weed out at the e-mail and messaging stage. Only one got past my first defences so that so that I actually met him..."He looks intrigued. "Really? And...""We'd talked on the phone a couple of times before we agreed on a date. He had a beautiful speaking voice, all honey and cream. Y'know, a Richard Burton, or Morgan Freeman, or Alan Rickman kind of voice. But when I met him, I knew instantly that there was something wrong..."He cocks his head. "Instantly? How?""It's hard to

Ryan cocks an eyebrow. "It suits you better. You didn't really look like a 'Debbie' to me. That's a 'pretty' name." He clambers over me, hovering on all fours, straddling my quivering body. "I'll rephrase it then. I'm going to enjoy fucking you, Kirstie."He kneels up, still straddling my legs. "So, you like being dominated... Do as you're told then." He cocks his head to my panties. "Show me.""Show you what?""You know what. Let me see what I'm going to fuck. Give me a show.""You want me to...?""Do as you're told." He looks down at my crotch. "If I thought seduction was what you wanted, I'd go for it. But you don't. I can see from here that you're dripping. And if you wanted to be coy, you should have worn black. Now..." he traces a finger over the dark stain on the crotch of my panties, then, pulling the satin to one side, slips it inside. "So, if you want me to fuck you, show me what you've got."He's not smiling anymore. Instead, his gaze alternates between my eyes a

I shake my head. "It was bright sunshine when I left home. Didn't think I needed anything else.""I've got a clean pullover in the car. Back in a jiffy..." He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later, his hair wet but carrying a sweater.Thrusting it at me, "Get that on you. There's a bathroom out at the back to change."It feels a bit odd, accepting clothes from a near stranger, but I'm in no position to argue. My jeans are still sopping, but with the warm jersey, at least my top half is warm and I do feel much better.The sweater is not a good fit and would easily accommodate another one of me inside. I'd not realised before how broad-shouldered Ben is, or for that matter, how much taller he is than me.A bit self-consciously, I return to the bar. He eyes me, mouth puckering. "Not exactly a fashion statement, is it?""Thanks very much. I owe you one." I say, pushing the sleeves up past my wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. "I r

Perhaps I'm not being fair to you. You want something you're never going to get from me.But... You're nice...... Is 'nice' what I want?We wander along the beach again, eating cornets, licking away the dripping edges."So, what is it you do?" he asks. "For a living, I mean? If you don't mind me asking?""I don't mind at all. I was a pastry chef. I know it's one of those dream jobs for a lot of people, but I hated it. I'm starting a new job in a couple of days.""Something different?""Completely different. I'm being taken on as a concierge in one of the office blocks in the new part of town.""That's certainly a change. Which offices?""The new Haswell Building. You know, the one that went up so quickly after the old headquarters got burned down.""Nice place," he comments. "My sister-in-law works there. What made you pick that one?""It's the sort of thing I enjoy doing. I'll be on their front desk, so I'll be seeing people all the time. And the company has a g