Helena by Leo Barton

Author:Leo Barton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica for women, pleasure and pain
Publisher: Chimera Books Ltd

It was strange to describe the atmosphere between us all afterwards. Initially there were lots of smiles, lots of openness and caressing, but soon the previous amiable banter started again.

A little later we went to a bar on the corner of the street. The place was dense with smoke, loud music pounded in the background. It was the sort of bar I had often seen but infrequently been in: all done in aquamarine, a parquet floor, and uncomfortable fixed stools that we all sat on around the bar.

I know you were a little worried about me then, thinking how quiet I was, wondering if some sense of guilt was washing over me. I know that I was quiet, but not guilty: Gregory was as far away from me in my thoughts as he was in actual distance. I was shy. There was only Adele who seemed as inexperienced as I was. For the others, as I am sure it was for you at that stage, pleasurable though I'm sure the experience had been, it had not quite had the momentous impact that it had certainly had on me. I had never even passionately kissed a woman before and there I had been spread out in the chair and french-kissed by Adele as Simone had licked and sucked on me.

Maybe everything was happening too quickly. No, I am not saying that I regretted anything that had happened. I had been so terribly excited, but, as I said, no Damascus-like conversions. You had thrown me in at the deep end, and I was wondering whether I would be able to swim.

You wanted to know what I was thinking. As you walked to the bathroom, you stopped by my stool and asked me. I told you nothing special, but what I had been reflecting upon as you asked me was my usual Saturday night with Gregory. A meal at about nine, a bottle of wine, a couple of hours either watching the television or going to the local pub as we had done the previous week, and then in bed by eleven. Maybe there was a kiss and cuddle, a chat, occasionally an argument, a little bit of lovemaking and then to sleep. I was a long way from there. I was not backsliding. I knew what I had to do and what I had already done was the only plausible thing that I could have done, and that I wanted to do, but the full immensity of it all was beginning to hit me. I was here at the watershed, at the outset of a new and probably dangerous future; a future that forsook everything. That was why I was quiet: I knew that everything was for real. I was no longer a mere protagonist in one of my fantasies.

Jean-Claude sat beside me and in his lovely charming way told me about his village in the south of France, inviting me to visit him amongst the Cezanne hills and the lush countryside. He was a writer of children's stories and he told me some engaging tales that he had written.

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