TABOO TALES(erotica)

“Jamie, did you ever read something that made you feel like you needed to take off your skin and wash it on the inside as well?” she asked me, her voice quavering, and knowing how near to tears she was I hugged her as close as I could, stroking her hair and back, calming her down, soothing her.

“You need to stop now, princess,” I told her, “this stuff can wait, don’t try and wade through it all tonight, you have to pace yourself. Little bites, princess, little bites.”

“I know, Jamie, but after so little to go on, this is a goldmine, but it still makes me retch with disgust, that a man could do that…!” She was near tears again, and I could only hold her as she echoed and resonated with all that she had learned, her heart breaking for all those children that man had taken, all those families he’d shattered for his thirty pieces of silver.

As I held her I rocked her, as though she were still the little girl who’d cry on my lap because she wanted something, or had lost something, or sometimes just had the blues,

I could feel her tenseness slowly dissipating, her breathing becoming stronger, slower, less angry, her jaw muscles against my cheek loosening as she unclenched her teeth and relaxed.

Finally, she looked up and looked into my eyes, her eyes clear and calm again, her face relaxed and peaceful. “OK Jamie, I’m good now, thank you, baby!”

I grinned with relief. “if you’re ready, Nia, you should have a shower, we’re supposed to be having dinner with the parents in…” I looked at my watch, “just over an hour, so you better get a move on, princess!”

Her eyes widened. “Shit, Jamie, why didn’t you…!” she said as she jumped up and darted around, rummaging in the linen closet for a bath towel, muttering at me “You could have said something, Jamie, I mean, you knew what time we’re…”

I held up a hand. “Less talk, more shower, now!”

She darted past me, clouting me on the back of the head with the rolled-up towel as she ran into the bathroom. I was starting to feel tired now, even though I’d slept for nearly the whole 12-hour flight from Hong Kong to Heathrow, but it was edging up to 6pm, and my body clock was telling me it was 2am, and I had the nasty suspicion I’d be passing out with my face in my plate. Knowing dad, he’d probably just decorate the top of my head with whipped cream and take pictures for the fridge; after all, I know what he’s like, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve starred in one of his little pranks…

Nia came bursting in and jolted me awake, muttering and fuming, still mad at me for not disturbing her sooner. I manfully held my peace, as I am allowed to be in the right approximately Zero percent of the time, and pointing out to her that she’s actually in the wrong is both futile and extremely hazardous to my hearing.

Nia eventually settled on what she was going to wear, which baffled me; we were going to have dinner at mum’s, not sip tea with the Queen, she could have worn sack-cloth and ashes and no-one would have batted an eyelid. I was wearing what I always wore at home, and I classed the parents’ as home as well as here; jeans and a sweatshirt. As I watched Nia dress, I was reminded of the old colonial cliche, keeping up standards abroad in front of the natives etc, dressing for dinner, everyone dressed in black ties and dinner suits and sipping sherry by 7pm, dinner at 7:30m sharp.

“What are you grinning at, Polar Boy?” snapped Nia, still miffed that she hadn’t had 4 hours to dress herself in exactly what she was wearing now, to go to dinner round the corner, at our parents place.

“Nothing princess, if you’ve finished, shall we make a move? Mum’s expecting us in 15 minutes, so di di mao, Nia!”

Nia grinned at me using Vietnamese slang at her, almost my entire vocabulary in one sentence.

“You’re a bloody disgrace, Jamie!” she grinned, “if mum heard you using language like that she’d slap you one! All those years trying to get some Viet into your thick head, and that’s all you can say, I’m ashamed of you!”

Well, at least she’d recovered enough to banter with me, that was a good sign.

Mum was all over me. I’d only been gone 3 weeks, you’d think I been gone three years the way she fussed over me, Nia looking at me from behind her with one slightly raised eyebrow as if to say ‘Lap it up, boy, don’t expect this when we get home!’

“So happy little boy come home safe! Vietnam still not safe place, maybe in holiday resorts in Nha Trang or Halong Bay or Hue, but tourists protected there, everywhere else you just wealthy foreigner, people want to take you money any way they can, you get hurt, they not care!”

I protested that I wasn’t wealthy.

Her answer was succinct. “They not know that, it enough that you look like you have dollars on you. Promise me you not go again, little boy!”

As I’d already been warned away, it was an easy promise to give, and the evening warmed-up again in no time at all.

Mum really is an excellent cook, a talent Nia had inherited, but there was something about mum’s cooking that kept us coming back. Many evenings I’d come home to find the flat empty, and I’d stroll around the corner and find Nia and mum chatting in the kitchen, usually cooking something together.

I’d brought gifts for mum and dad, a Peridot and Burmese ruby brooch for mum from Ho Chi Minh City, and a pair of ruby-inset silver cuff-links for dad from Hong Kong, both received graciously and with a thank-you kiss from mum.

Dinner was the usual, dad keeping us in stitches with his off the cuff remarks and stories about the antics of his team at work, his sense of humour coming to the fore as he gave me a run-down of the news in the three weeks I’d been away. He’d accepted that Nia and I were a couple, had no issues (or none that he ever raised with us) with us living together, had even helped us find the flat. Mum had put her foot down and insisted we live locally, which wasn’t as awkward as you might think; this is South London, move two streets away from where you were born and you become a complete stranger, entirely anonymous, so it was easy for Nia and I to be just another couple of young professionals in a sea of them. It was also for that very reason that if I was away for more than one night, Nia stayed back at the parent’s.

Sometime around 9pm I must have flaked out, the last thing I remember was sitting on the couch and chatting with dad about the global economy and the oil business in general, and the clock finally caught up with me. For me, it was 5am, Hanoi time, and the conversation became surreal, then just silly as I slipped further and further into sleep.

I woke at 4 am, according to my watch, slightly disoriented, and covered in a throw, my back killing me from being slumped on the couch for so long. As it was still dark, I thought I’d find our room, sneak into bed, and stretch out for a few more hours; today was Nia’s graduation, and we had to be at The LSE Old Building at 11 am to collect her robe, mortar-board cap and ecclesiastical purple tabard with the gold border, then walk her to the Peacock Theatre for the actual Graduation ceremony, then photographs etc, so I wanted to be fresh and alert.

I’d ditched my own Graduation ceremony, technically speaking I’d graduated as soon as I received my transcript showing I’d passed all course modules, so I’d collected my degree from the Course Director’s secretary and blown out of town to come home. I was anxious that Nia have a perfect day, she’d worked hard and long hours, working toward her Law degree with an Anthropology Honour, so she deserved to have her day. I’d managed a good Second Class degree, but she’d earned an Honours Degree, so a little bit of pomp was due.

I gently opened the door on the top-floor bedroom and eased it open, sure enough, there was Nia, just visible in the faint light from the pre-dawn sky, fast asleep with her arm thrown across the pillow next to her, her customary sleeping pose. Many was the night I’d woken and removed that arm from my face or the back of my head, or been woken when it conked me one as she turned in her sleep and dropped it on me. She was wearing a T-shirt and panties, and I stood and enjoyed the view for a few seconds before quietly stripping off, no thoughts other than to get a couple more hours sleep.

I moved her arm gently, sliding into bed slowly so as not to disturb her, pulling the covers back up, and sliding my arm around her waist.

“Mmm, hello Jamie” she sighed.

“Sshhh, go back to sleep.” I murmured back to her, rubbing her tummy lightly, something that always sent her back to sleep, and she turned on her side and spooned me, wriggling herself up against me and sliding her arm onto my hip, her hand gently patting me.

I tried to get back to sleep, but damn, my body clock was still ticking on Hanoi time, and it was telling me it was nearly midday; added to that was Jamie jr, who’d woken up and was nudging Nia in her delectable, panty-clad rump, so conveniently pressed right into my lap.

I tried ignoring it; she had a big day coming up, and she needed her rest, but then, to add to my discomfort, she began rolling her hips, rubbing her buttocks against me, pushing herself back against me.

“Are you awake?” I whispered, and heard her intake of breath.

“Uh, Yeah, Jamie!” she whispered back, squirming round to face me. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to bed for hours now, hold me, Polar Bear!”

I slid my arm under her, and pulled her to me by her tight little buttocks, kissing her soundly.

“You need to rest, baby, you’ve got a busy day ahead, you don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of it!” I whispered.

“I can rest later!” she whispered back,” right now I want to do this!” and she grabbed hold of me and pumped hard, twice.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.