Mackintosh Encounter - Part Two
Posted: June 11th, 2012, 7:27 pm
Over the next couple of days, I found it difficult to concentrate either at work or at home. All I could think of was Alex in her lovely mac, and the fact that I was going to see her again on the Saturday.
When the day came, I made some lame excuse to Valerie about having to go to the shops to buy some stationery. I felt more than a little guilty about deceiving her, something I had never done before. I told myself that I wasn’t really cheating on her, I was just going to talk to Alex about her macs. I had never felt able to talk to Valerie about my passion for them, as I was sure she would think it weird. Nevertheless that little voice in my head was not entirely stilled.
At five to eleven, I arrived outside Jameson’s. I was wearing my grey shower-proof coat. It was dull and overcast, but not actually raining. I was a little disappointed at this, as I thought Alex might not wear a mac. Ten minutes later, I began to wonder if she had changed her mind and decided not to come. Then she came into view. She was wearing a gorgeous, light blue mackintosh, made of thin rubber. The hood was down and her shoulder-length hair flowed over it.
“Hello,” she said, “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, just a few minutes.”
I couldn’t help myself, I laid my hands on her shoulders and ran them down her upper arms. I was aware that I was getting aroused.
“You like it then?”
“It’s exquisite. The loveliest mac I’ve ever seen!”
We entered the café and sat at a table in the corner. She pulled her chair nearer to me so that we were sitting next to one another rather than opposite. I ordered a pot of coffee for two and some rock cakes.
“So, how many macs do you have in your collection?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “Oh, I suppose about two dozen.”
My erection was getting a little obvious and I felt embarrassed. I tried not to think about it and hoped she would not notice. She did, of course.
She gave a little smile and, leaning into me, whispered, “Please don’t worry about getting excited. I take it as a complement. At home, when Phil, that’s my husband, is away on business, I often put a mac on over my undies and sit and rub myself until I spend.” A dreamy look came into her eyes, as if she were reliving the moment. Then she snapped out of it and said, “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever told that to anyone before. Not even Phil.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve never discussed my love of macs with Valerie. She just wouldn’t understand.”
We chatted away, drank our coffees and devoured our rock cakes.
Suddenly, Alex said, “Look, Phil’s away until tomorrow. Why don’t we go back to my house now and I’ll show you all my macs? I know that sounds terribly wanton, but I have this irresistible urge to wear my macs for you.”
My first instinct was to say that it just wasn’t possible, as Valerie would be expecting me home for lunch. However, the desire to see Alex model her macs for me was too strong and I agreed to her suggestion.
I called Valerie from a call box and told her that I had run into an old school friend, who had asked me to have lunch with him, and, as I hadn’t seen him for such a long time, I didn’t like to say no. I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t feel at all guilty about lying to her.
When the day came, I made some lame excuse to Valerie about having to go to the shops to buy some stationery. I felt more than a little guilty about deceiving her, something I had never done before. I told myself that I wasn’t really cheating on her, I was just going to talk to Alex about her macs. I had never felt able to talk to Valerie about my passion for them, as I was sure she would think it weird. Nevertheless that little voice in my head was not entirely stilled.
At five to eleven, I arrived outside Jameson’s. I was wearing my grey shower-proof coat. It was dull and overcast, but not actually raining. I was a little disappointed at this, as I thought Alex might not wear a mac. Ten minutes later, I began to wonder if she had changed her mind and decided not to come. Then she came into view. She was wearing a gorgeous, light blue mackintosh, made of thin rubber. The hood was down and her shoulder-length hair flowed over it.
“Hello,” she said, “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, just a few minutes.”
I couldn’t help myself, I laid my hands on her shoulders and ran them down her upper arms. I was aware that I was getting aroused.
“You like it then?”
“It’s exquisite. The loveliest mac I’ve ever seen!”
We entered the café and sat at a table in the corner. She pulled her chair nearer to me so that we were sitting next to one another rather than opposite. I ordered a pot of coffee for two and some rock cakes.
“So, how many macs do you have in your collection?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “Oh, I suppose about two dozen.”
My erection was getting a little obvious and I felt embarrassed. I tried not to think about it and hoped she would not notice. She did, of course.
She gave a little smile and, leaning into me, whispered, “Please don’t worry about getting excited. I take it as a complement. At home, when Phil, that’s my husband, is away on business, I often put a mac on over my undies and sit and rub myself until I spend.” A dreamy look came into her eyes, as if she were reliving the moment. Then she snapped out of it and said, “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever told that to anyone before. Not even Phil.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve never discussed my love of macs with Valerie. She just wouldn’t understand.”
We chatted away, drank our coffees and devoured our rock cakes.
Suddenly, Alex said, “Look, Phil’s away until tomorrow. Why don’t we go back to my house now and I’ll show you all my macs? I know that sounds terribly wanton, but I have this irresistible urge to wear my macs for you.”
My first instinct was to say that it just wasn’t possible, as Valerie would be expecting me home for lunch. However, the desire to see Alex model her macs for me was too strong and I agreed to her suggestion.
I called Valerie from a call box and told her that I had run into an old school friend, who had asked me to have lunch with him, and, as I hadn’t seen him for such a long time, I didn’t like to say no. I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t feel at all guilty about lying to her.
