The Visitor by Karen Blayne

Oh by the way red tape first.

Be warned these short stories contain mature content or naughty bits and as such may corrupt you if you’re under 12, 16, 18, 21 or 25 depending where you live thus they are not suitable for you so put them back on the shelf and let them age for a year or two.

They were sort of scribbled for fun. They were first posted on asstr.org. If you’ve paid money for this book just be aware the author has not received any payment. In fact no one has permission to charge money for this book and copyright is retained by the author. All copies must be of the complete document. ©2015 Asstr.org accepts donations if you’re feeling rich or even if you’re not.

Luv Karen

Her parents were away for the weekend so she'd invited Mohammad over that evening, she'd even carefully prepared a meal. Mohammad, was the perpetual student, lived on student visas, but daddy was super rich and as a boyfriend he had his compensations, weekends in Paris, first class of course, best restaurants, best seats at the theatre. He was into playing chess at the moment, he'd even played a game against her old friend Richard and had been in a bad mood for days afterwards because he lost even starting with white. Her father refused to play Mohammad but after looking at the game Mohammad and Richard had played challenged Richard to a game in the kitchen whilst she entertained Mohammad in the lounge. She'd asked her father how he got on since she'd never seen him play “Richard isn't bad he should improve with a bit of practise.”

The doorbell rang, Mohammad early, no he was never ever early, “I was passing and wondered how you were.” Richard, her heart gave a little tug, “Come in.” She nearly dragged him in through the front door before Mrs. Melrose of the twitching sheers across the road looked out. He'd used to visit her often before going to university, but had tailed off because of studying which she hadn't understood at the time but having done it herself now she understood. He slid his arm round her and nibbled her ear. “Has your mother baked a cake recently?” Anyone would think it was her mother's cooking he came to see not her. She turned and looked at him, “Come through to the kitchen and I'll see what I can find.” Richard, the times they'd drunk a bottle of wine together in her room, when she'd lain against him and felt comfort in his arms, still that was then and now was now, Mohammad was due soon so it wouldn't do to think too warmly of Richard.

They stood and gossiped in the kitchen and he enquired after her parents. She mentioned they were away for the weekend. “We could go somewhere more comfortable.” He twirled his imaginary mustache and she thought seriously about pouring his cup of coffee over him. “Downstairs, Mohammad is due later.” He grinned “Might not look too good if he found us in my lady's boudoir.” She sat in her armchair and he sat at her feet leaning against her lower limbs. They gossiped about friends and times gone by. He eased her feet out of her shoes and stroked them gently. She practically melted at his touch, that was the trouble with Richard. He knew her body and all its weak points of old. She hoped he didn't recognise the fully fashioned stockings she was wearing to seduce Mohammad. These ones at least didn't wrinkle too badly on the ankle. She thought about Mohammad for a moment or two, how he liked her to be his demure English girl friend, below the knee skirts was what he favoured, ankle length if he had his way. “Do you remember the time we went to Clacton and managed to get a train compartment all to ourselves on the way back?” It had been a non-corridor train as well, a good job she'd recognised the approach to Liverpool Street station before they'd arrived. She blushed remembering the kisses and heavy petting that had help pass the journey, she could almost imagine his hand sliding up her thigh now, no it wasn't her imagination. That was the trouble with Richard he didn't play fair. Still it would warm her up a little before Mohammad arrived she rationalised and since he didn't believe in equality sex with Mohammad was more about keeping him satisfied.

The phone rang, Mohammad, Richard's thumb had crept even higher and was even now brushing itself between the two sides of her crotchless knickers, one of his fingers slid inside her and he was lightly kissing her thighs. She tried to stay calm as Mohammad briefly explained that one of his friends had invited him round to watch the desert camel racing on the Internet this evening but he'd be round tomorrow morning for brunch without fail. She felt like screaming at him but knew she had to keep calm otherwise the best restaurants might be at risk. “See you tomorrow morning then, bye, look after yourself.” She calmly spoke the words down the phone.

“Let me guess these were in aid of Mohammad?” She nodded feeling the worse sort of tart for having dressed especially to see if she could lure him into bed. “There's a meal in the oven, one of mother's casseroles, if you'd like to share it with me.” “You know I picked up a bottle of red wine. It's in my shoulder bag.” She'd never actually slept with Richard before but Mohammad wouldn't arrive before lunch time and she could always offer to show him the changes in her room after the meal, after all Paddington had been moved from one side of the bookcase to the other.