Segments - 16 - Doubts

01 - Meeting Her

02 - The Services

03 - Exeter Hotel

04 - Christmas

05 - New Year

06 - The Old Man

07 - Why He Started

08 - Cambridge

09 - Norwich

10 - The Party

11 - Millau

12 - Heading East

13 - Nice in Nice

14 - Making Progress

15 - Revelations

16 - Doubts

17 - The Connection

18 - Levelling

19 - Space

20 - Finale


The old man is right. He has to find out. Either it will break this whole nonsense relationship apart or clear it all up, but just wandering around like a perplexed zombie is not what Clem wants to do any more. Does he confront her or just let it roll a while longer? Maybe he'll play it by ear. Good god, I want to both shake her till the truth falls out and lust all over her.

Is she really falling for him? Or is that a development of the deception? He considers himself a fair judge of character, he's usually pretty good at sorting the wasters and pointless friends from those who he can trust and who are worthwhile. His gut instinct says that her recent warmth and touching means she is. The way she is with him, the way she snuggles into him at night. It feels right. Yet the doubt is still there. The lack of actual sex. They've not fully consummated this relationship even though they have shared both trust and a deep intimacy. Doubts.

He is sat in a large 8 wheeler across from the driver, a quiet, slim lady who although dressed poorly is attractive in a cheap white trash manner. Her advice after Clem's very brief outline is "Go for it honey, best to do something and regret it than don't do it and regret it." It's a curious logic but it will do for Clem, he turns on the tablet and the phone.

The phone immediately pings several times with text messages and answerphone messages. "Where are you?" "Are you OK?" "What's up?" "Please get in touch" is the gist of the messages from Joanna, or Tabitha. The answerphone messages sound desperate too. The emails are mostly spam and 2 messages from Joanna of the same nature and an email from David asking him to get in touch when he can. He feels guilty about worrying Joanna. Why? The bitch is playing me and I feel bad for taking some time out? Stupid selfish cow. He still feels bad though.

2 minutes later while Samantha the driver is singing along to the latest pop songs the phone rings, it's Tabitha according to the screen, Joanna now to Clem. "Hello"
"Oh wow! You've answered, you're OK!" Either she really is concerned or she's a great actor.
"Yes, yes I'm fine, just got all your messages."
"Where - have - you - been!" Oh crap.
"I've been poorly." Samantha turns down the radio to listen. "I had a funny turn, spent a day or two in hospital and I've been at a friend's place, recovering." It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie. Samantha smiles.
"Oh my god, where are you now, I'll come and get you, you can come back to mine." Which 'mine' he wonders, the one in the north west or the one presumably in Cambridge.
"I'm in a truck heading north, don't know where we're going, I'm just travelling."
"Oh please let me come and get you, I'm worried and I've missed you." Is he ready? What should he do?
Samantha smiles again and whispers "Go on, get in there, do it!"
"I'll get dropped off somewhere near Leeds then. I'll keep the tablet on so you can find me."
"Yippee" she sounds pleased, and happy. That's what makes her endearing, her happiness. Is it real happiness? "Ok, well I'll find you this evening, see you soon hehe!"

While Clem tries to sort out his feelings Samantha is thrilled. "Oh you're so going to get it tonight big boy, she's gonna rip you to shreds. I do wish I had something exciting going on in my life. My fella will be at home scratchin' his balls and trying to fix the shower. Aw hell he's a good fella my Paul, I just wish summat new would happen." It's a fair point. It's not everything he'd hoped for but she has certainly, definitely, without question made his life more interesting these last few months. Come on boy, things ain't so bad. Lets see what happens, lets see what she's like tonight. Let's just see. Let it be, let it roll. Be all Zen and just accept things as they are. Don't fight them, let things play out. That's better, these are better thoughts.

He's stood on the car park at Hartshead Services on the M62. Logic dictates she'll take him back to the house in the north west, it's not so far. He sees her big Audi screech into the car park through the dark cold rain. He starts towards the car and she opens her door and runs as hard as she can towards him. She grabs him and almost sends him reeling back. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god I thought you'd gone, I thought I'd lost you." If she's acting she's good. Fuck it, this is nice. He squeezes her and kisses her.

She grills him about the "funny turn" and his hospital stay. She grills him, demanding to know why he didn't insist on further tests. She makes him feel small and stupid for not insisting on a diagnosis and for not looking after himself properly. After a half hour he's had enough. "Enough woman! Enough, please. These things happen. I don't need you to lecture me. Please." She relents and sulks for a minute then places her spare hand on his knee, smiling.

It is obvious the house hasn't been used for a week or two. Junk mail by the door, no fresh milk in the fridge and the heating has been off so it's bloody freezing. She lights everything up and cranks the boiler to the max. It takes a while for the gas fire in the large living room to start making the house feel homely again. She orders a takeaway and starts to fluster around him, wanting to know if he's OK, how does he feel? He hates this kind of fuss, he's fine. It's his feelings not his well-being he's struggling with right now.

As she divides up the curry and rice he takes time to look at her. As ever she's dressed in those tight jeans, a big belt and beneath her faux fur coat is a soft, cosy thick knit baggy jumper. Her curves are a delight, her hair falling beyond her shoulders makes him want to stroke it. She turns and smiles. Blast! That bloody smile. That joyful, warm, lively smile. How can he be cross with her? Logic says he's been deceived and he may still be being deceived but his gut, his heart says she is here in the room with him fully, totally and honestly. The curry is good too.

"It's still cold upstairs, follow me, come and help."
"What, why?" She drags him by the hand up to her bedroom, rips the sheets of the bed and grabs the mattress.
"Come on, don't just stand there, help."
"Uh?"
"We're taking this downstairs to the living room, it's warmer down there." They heave and tug on the mattress to get it around the door frame, over the bannister and down the stairs. This is good fun actually. She trips on the final stair and falls forward into the mattress, bounces off then crumples in fits of giggles. The bed is eventually remade in the centre of the living room. It looks quite surreal. She looks happy, his mind hasn't given much thought about her deception this last hour.

Clem strips to his boxer shorts, she changes into a short pink satin nightie, he's not certain but it might be the one he came on that first night. This restarts his mental torment, he tries to dismiss it but it's there in his mind again. She does however look delightful. She straddles him on the bed and after a hug tells him to turn over. She starts to massage him. As her hands move across his back he can feel the soft satin hem of the nightie glide around his bottom and his upper thighs. He can feel the warmth of her vagina against his cheeks. As he relishes the sensations of her firm massage he's also aroused.

After 5 or 10 minutes she gently lies on top of him. To feel her body, he breasts placed on his back in the nightie is evocative and sensual. He turns over, struggling to shake her off, she giggles and makes it hard. Now he's face up beneath her, his erection uncomfortable inside his shorts. With a heave he slides her up a little until her breasts are in his face, he fumbles with the straps to expose a nipple which he teases with his tongue. His tease becomes a suck, he can feel her hips starting to gyrate and grind. "Harder" she whispers, he sucks an little more. "Harder", he starts to nibble, he can feel her response. "Harder!" He bites enough to hurt, she is tense and shuddering.

He hooks his arms beneath her legs and with all his strength gives a mighty heave. His intention is to bring her pussy onto his face, instead he sends her flying over the edge of the bed and without a headboard she lands splayed across the floor in a most undignified manner. She looks at him, he at her, for a moment he wonders what she'll do. She chuckles, he does, she laughs, he does, she laughs so hard she snorts like a pig as she breathes in. This starts a ridiculous laughing fit in both of them, Clem's stomach hurts as he gasps for breath and she is crying.

When they eventually calm down Clem explains his original intention. She crawls back onto the bed pretending to be a tiger and teases him by slowly and gracefully sliding her pink silk body across his face, getting ever lower to her pubic mound. She's sat on his chest looking down on him. Her hair falls either side of her face, her pussy is still covered by the nightie, she winks and with a swift movement she plops her wet vagina hard onto his mouth.

It takes him a moment or two to regain his orientation, to work out where her clitoris is and adjust his head accordingly. She lifts a little and he starts to lick. It takes a couple of minutes for her breath to deepen again and for her tension to build back up. As she gets closer he presses harder into his face. He can't lick any more, he has to suck and flick inside his mouth. He hopes she'll hurry up, he's struggling for breath! No matter, he looks up and from within the nightie he can see up to her breasts. Grrrrrrr.

"Don't stop don't stop don't stop!" She's getting close then with a painful press and judder on his chin he feels what he hopes is her orgasm. It's a pleasure but there is just this tiny, quiet question in the back of his mind, is it real? Doubt is a terrible thing.

"Yowsers Mr Willows!" as she moves back onto his chest.
"I like that, I like looking up your nightie."
"You like to look up skirts and dresses...eh?" This is phrased just slightly wrong. The first part was a statement, as though she already knows, the "eh" was added to turn the statement into a question. Clem registers but he's too engrossed and excited to act upon it.
"Yes, yeah. It's, well, I don't know. I guess it's a schoolboy thing. For as long as I can remember I've been attracted to girls. Part of that is the mystery of what's beneath their skirts, in the places young boys are not supposed to know about."
"Hmmm, yeah. I know a few boys at school used to try and lift the girl's skirts up."
"I was never that brave, I just imagined." She jumps off him and disappears. Clem mulls over the statement turned into a question.

She returns still wearing the nightie but also a mid thigh length underskirt, he guesses. The item is made of a layer of white netting and a layer of very fine light cotton. It is fitted around her waist as far as he can make out beneath the pink nightie then it hangs loosely, flaring out slightly from her hips. While it is not the delights of a real petticoat she still looks delectable. She stands at the foot of the bed, "This is all I could find right now, is it OK?"
"It's fine, grrrrrrr..."

She walks around to the side of the mattress on the floor, Clem is looking up. She winks at him then moves onto the mattress and stands, somewhat shakily on the unstable surface, over his head. He looks up. The skirt is light enough to allow enough light through for a shaded view of her femininity. He reaches down and pulls his shorts down and starts to stroke himself. She lowers herself slowly, as she does he gasps "Oh wow! you naughty little girl!", she has her glass butt plug in her bottom.

She is knelt above his face. He is in his own little hiding place, beneath her skirt. There is nothing but her thighs, her moist vagina and her butt plug in his field of vision. In her girly cute voice she says "this is what little girls have hidden beneath their clothes." She rests on hand on his stomach, the other joins him stroking his penis. Lower and lower she moves towards his face, he can feel the warmth. She wiggles her bottom and cutely states "you like it under there?"
"Yes...yes...nnnngh!" He cums and the relief is ecstatic. She doesn't move away though, "oh yes, hmmmm...gosh!" She moves her pussy back onto his face. Although he's spent and tired, ever the gentleman he ensures she cums herself, it doesn't take long. Although he's tired it feels good to be good.

With another brew and the lights out they settle into the bed. Clem's mind, relieved of the sexual tension, returns to thinking of her. It feels right. It feels as though she is enjoying this. IT feels as though she's happy to be with him. It doesn't feel as though he's being used or manipulated any more. The doubt is still there. Is it his ego that wants to feel like this? To feel like he really is good in bed with her? To feel like she likes him? To feel like she cares about him? The old man planted the seed of doubt, and he also believes that she is falling for him. He falls asleep, the brew only half drunk.