Tuesday, 27 August 2013

An Acute Attraction - Excerpt


THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY DEBUT BOOK, AN ACUTE ATTRACTION. IT'S AVAILABLE FROM AMAZON, BARNES & NOBLE, LULU.COM, iTUNES...plus more!!

Feeling rather flushed, Marc and I right our tops brushing off twigs and dead grass. Looking up at him I see that he has the same silly grin up on his face, that I expect I am wearing. It’s the first time I notice the dimples next to his upturned mouth, I can’t help but smile even more. Dammit can this guy look any hotter. My inner woman crosses her stocking clad legs with a self-satisfied smirk- she seems to think so. I swallow hard trying not to think about it just yet. Dear God, I may just self-combust if he does. My facial expression must have changed enough to cause concern with Marc.

“Are you Ok Isabel. You've gone quite pale?”

Striding towards me Marc grabs a hold of my hand.

“Erm yes! I think I stood a bit too quickly.”

Holding me steady, I hear the worry in his voice.

“Just take a few deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Marc demonstrates this action which I then copy. In through my nose, I inhale the musky scent of this man. Out through my mouth, I release a soft moan. I shall pass out at this rate. Repeating the action, trying to stifle the moans, I then nod my head. "I'm feeling much better now. Thank you.”


“Okay. The heat isn't helping either” he says.

You’re telling me! I think as I feel it radiating off him. Come on Chambers, snap out of it! Getting myself together I gather up the argyle blanket to give it a shake. Marc is packing away what food is remaining when I hear him clear his throat.

“I have my presentation at Christ’s College in Cambridge tomorrow. I'm afraid once we get back to the hotel I'm going to have to finish off some last minute planning.”

I smile to show that I don’t mind. After all, this is what he is over here in the UK for.

“Yes of course. I hope it goes well. It must be quite daunting to stand up in front of so many prestigious academics.”

He lets out a small laugh. “It’s not the first time I have done something like this, so it’s easier than what it was. I've done the; picturing them in their underwear, to help ease the nerves. It made it worse though when you consider that some of these men and women are 60 years old!”

I shudder at the thought of a stereotypical wrinkled body wearing nothing but Y-fronts or thermals.

“Ew! Yes. I can see how that might be.” I shudder one last time.

Looking back to Marc, I see him laughing. I really must get used to the idea that this guy quite possibly has a super power in mind reading.

It doesn't take us long to pack up and walk back to the car. Oh gawd! I have to climb back into this monster of a vehicle. So in the most ungainly manner, I manage to get into my seat. Once we get on to the road I can take in the charming Suffolk countryside. Putting my head against the rest I can’t believe how exhausted I suddenly feel. I begin to close my eyes when Marc speaks up.

“There is a formal dinner and dance tomorrow evening at the college. I’d love for you to come along as my guest.”

Let’s just say my eyes don’t stay shut for long when I have to digest what he has said. There are so many verbs and adjectives in those two sentences that scare me. You can tell I'm a teacher can’t you?

“Right”, is all I can come out with! Once I have taken in what he’s just said, I swear my heart starts to palpitate. Come on Chambers, don’t have a panic attack now. It’s not like he’s broken it to me while we’re 35,000 feet in the air. Yes I have a fear of flying, don’t laugh. This is something my best friend Jackie only recently found out when we went to Spain. Sitting next to a sobbing, hyperventilating wreck on take-off, I'm surprised she didn't slap me senseless! It took much of the 2 hour flight for her to get the circulation back into her hand, only for the same to happen on landing.

Anyway back to now. Not realising how long I had been away with the fairies for, I hear Marc say,

“So when my pants split.”

Yup! That brings me back. I turn my head sharply to him.

“Huh?”

Marc chuckles, “Where were you? You were here in body, but certainly not in mind.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose I reply,

“Sorry. I'm sure you have just asked me if I would be your guest at a formal dinner and dance tomorrow evening.”

He looks at me briefly, “I did and I mean it. “


I think aloud, “I didn't imagine it then?”

“No Miss Chambers you didn't.”

The tone of his voice changes, worried slightly he asks, “Is that a real problem for you?”

I have to reassure him, but stumbling with my words, all of a sudden I feel coy. Taking a deep breath, I twist in my seat to face him.

“I've never been to a formal dinner and dance before. I've no idea what the etiquette is for these events and at such a distinguished venue I…”

Not knowing how to finish the sentence I trail off. Marc still manages to fathom out what I'm trying to say. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he reaches for my hand.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s no different to any other event like this. I suppose the word Formal does make it sound quite scary, the only formality is the dress code.”

Precisely I think to myself, another problem.

“I assume you’re saying its black tie for you and formal dresses or gowns for the ladies? I don’t own anything like that, never mind just happen to have it in my suitcase.”

I'm not being sarcastic, only truthful. I feel Marc squeeze my hand a little.

“I had thought about that, so what I'm going to suggest to you now I don’t want you saying no to. After all you’ll be doing me a huge favour by accompanying me to what could well be a tedious evening, as well as being; a beautiful, intelligent, funny companion.”

I hit him in jest. “Give over. You've done this before remember.”

He feigns the pain on his arm where I hit him. I see the humour in his eyes however.

“Exactly so I know what they can be like. Please Isabel. I’d like for you to go shopping for an outfit tomorrow. It’ll be on me as I'm the one that has dropped this bombshell on to you. So it’s the least I can do.”

I start to say “But!” when he interrupts.

“No buts Isabel. Let me do this this, and say yes.” He looks over at me with over exaggerated puppy dog eyes.

I sigh, “Yes, yes Ok. I can go into Cambridge while you’re at the University.”

I hear him release at a breath. He must have been holding on to it while waiting for my answer. I lace my fingers with his and rest our hands in his lap.

“Thank you”, I hear him softly say.

                                         *******************

Once we’re back at the hotel we both go up to our rooms. I'm completely worn out, God only knows how Marc must feel and he has to work now. I enter my room and head over to the bed dropping on to it.

Waking to the low sun, I must have crashed out as soon as my head had hit the pillow. Still dressed in the clothes from earlier, I feel the dampness on the pillow where I have been sleeping open mouthed. Feeling for my phone I look at the time. 7pm! Crap! 3 hours I've been out for. I read that I have one message off Marc, 2 messages and 4 missed phone calls off Jackie. I quickly scan Marc’s.

“Evening Beautiful. I hope you slept well. If you’re still sleeping, say hello when you wake.”

I text him back. “Evening Handsome. I've just risen from my pit. I slept like a log. Just need to text Jackie then I’ll call you.”

My phone alerts me of his instant reply. “No worries”

I sit myself up and prop my back against the head board. Having a feeling I'm entering the lion’s den I read the first message off Jackie.

“Hi hun. How’s sleepy Suffolk and Cambridge? Hope you’re having fun and text me as soon as you read this this. Love ya. xx”

I notice that was sent only 20 minutes after I had fell asleep. So not surprisingly, Jackie’s next message is well, not as loving.

“ISABEL CHAMBERS, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? You never leave it this long to text back. So this means you've either been kidnapped by gangsters or abducted by aliens! You had better call me within the next few hours or else I'm getting on that train. Shit Izzy, where are you?”

Apart from the shouty caps, I know when Jackie is annoyed with me. It’s the only time she uses my full name. Guilt twists in my stomach. Here goes nothing. Dialling her number, Jackie answers so fast she must have been sitting on the darn thing. Having to retreat away from the handset I hear her shouting down the phone.

“Isabel Chambers, where the hell have you been? I've been sitting here fretting about you. You could have been lying in a gutter!”

I hear her take a breath, waiting for the next onslaught of words I don’t speak. When they don’t come I put my ear to the back to the phone. Jackie sighs and continues in a softer voice. I think she may have got it out of her system now!

“Heck Izzy, I've been so worried and when you didn't answer the phone as well.”

Understanding how she feels, as I’d have felt exactly the same had the tables been turned. I close my eyes and let out a breath. For the next 10 minutes or so I explain to my wonderful, caring friend what has happened during my stay so far. Not going into too much information, obviously.

“You sly woman you!” is all she can say.

Promising to text her every day, we both hang up relieved. Despite the sleep I have had, I don’t fancy doing much. So I text Marc letting him know that I'm awake, live and kicking, but just want to veg out for the rest of the night. Reading Marc’s reply makes me giggle. I forget that he’s from across the pond, so most of our British slang can get lost in translation. Sending him another text, I reassure him that I have not turned into a turnip and that his offer of vegging out with him is indeed an offer I can’t refuse. He tells me he has to work, but I'm still welcome. So I shower to freshen up and throw on some yoga trousers and a slouchy top.

I knock on his door and what stands before me is nothing short of a portrait of an idol. Stood bare foot again Marc wears his faded jeans with a black V-neck T-shirt. For the first time I see him with his black rimmed glasses on.

“Isabel, close your mouth. You’ll be catching flies soon.”

I promptly shut my gaping mouth. What? You’d do the same if you saw him!

Standing aside Marc gestures me in to the room. For the rest of the evening both of us are sitting on the sofa; Marc is busy on his laptop, while I'm sat snugly with my feet resting in-between his rock hard thighs and the seat. There’s very little chatter as I watch Hitcock’s Rear Window. That is how the evening continues and it is perfect.

                                         **************************
Feeling rested and happy, Marc and I eat breakfast together in the lounge and he fills me in on his day ahead. I listen intently, but yet again I haven’t the foggiest about some of what he is coming out with.

“…a deficiency of lymphocytes can cause the immune system to cease working properly…”

As I say I'm listening, but!

 By 10am we’re full and ready to go. Marc offers me a lift into Cambridge seeing as we are both heading that way. On the drive in, it’s amazing to see the eclectic mix of architecture; from the modern day 3 bedroomed build to Art Deco mansions and 1970’s office block disasters to breath taking Victorian houses. Christ’s College is in the centre of the city right next to the shopping malls, so conveniently located for us both. The day is hot and sunny, so the sheen on Marc’s black 3-piece suit makes him stand out even more. I feel under dressed in my maxi dress and sandals, but for what I have in store today it’s just right. Marc collects his leather briefcase and laptop from off the back seat before coming around the car to say goodbye.

“Remember don’t be afraid to spend the money I've given you. Buy whatever you feel comfortable in, not what you think others should see you wearing. Tonight is for you and me, no-one else.”

With that he brings his head down to kiss me. The touch of his lips alone turns my head to mush, but when I feel his warm tongue, that’s it I'm done for! Marc grins knowing the effect he’s had.

“Go on Miss Chambers, you go and do what all women love to do. Enjoy yourself and I’ll text you in a bit.”
He kisses me on the cheek before heading over to the Porters’ Lodge.


It’s just after 1pm and I still haven’t found the perfect outfit. Even with Cambridge prices I have enough money, but unfortunately not the right body type for the small independent boutiques that lie in the side streets. I have so many scenes from Pretty Woman running through my head. Different circumstances obviously, but the same sentimental reasons; I'm different and no model! I feel I could cry at this point, so needing to take some time out, I decide to find somewhere for lunch.
Not wanting to break the diet I avoid the usual fast food outlets and head for an Italian restaurant named Don Pasquale. With its large green parasols covering the majority of the outdoor seating area next to the market, I know it will offer welcomed shade and light relief from the sun. Spotting a small table right next to the barrier that lines the street, I go over to it. The tables are all quite close together, but the ambience is calm and it doesn't feel crowded. Sitting down I scan the menu. What the heck, I’ll eat something healthy and treat myself to a refreshing glass of Rose. As the waiter arrives I order the Salmone Affumicato; Salmon and king prawn salad to you and me! I sit back to soak up the atmosphere when my phone whistles at me. Retrieving it from my bag I see it’s a text from Marc as he promised. Setting my phone to silent first I proceed to read and swap messages with him.

“Hey, how’s it going? Where are you?”

I know it will be a mixed message I'm giving him, but I want to be honest.

“Hey. It could be better. Not found anything as yet. Just stopped for some lunch. How are you?”

“That doesn't sound good. You’ll find something I'm sure. I'm fine, we've just stopped for lunch as well and then I’ll be doing the presentation.”

I smile at his optimism. “I'm sure I will also. You go knock ‘em dead Mr Sanders.”

“Haha!! I will do Miss Chambers.”

I'm just typing my reply when another message comes through. Don’t you just hate it when that happens? Anyway, I delete what I have started and read what’s been sent.

“How daring do you feel?”

Frowning to what’s on the screen I type, “That’s a bit cryptic. What do you mean?”

“Take a look around you, then you can judge how daring you are as I ask you to touch yourself.”

Yup! My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets too! The thing is, I know what he is asking me to do and the adrenalin has rushed to all of the right places on my body. My nipples harden to peaks against my white lace bra. My stomach does a somersault and the hairs on my arms stand on end. My sex clenches and yes, I even bite my lip. What sways my decision is that he is asking me and not telling me to do it. He’s giving me the option. Taking in my surroundings, I can tell by the layout of the place and where I'm sitting nobody would notice.

“Okay then, where?”

I'm not sure if that was the answer he thought he was going to get, as it takes a little time for him to reply.

My phone vibrates, “Your nipples, pinch them through your dress.”

Licking my now dry lips, I look up through my eye lashes checking the other diners out. No-one is looking at me, so I nonchalantly look towards the market. Leaning more onto the table I cross my arms and then with the fingers and thumb on my left hand I pinch my right nipple. I don’t stop there though, the electric surge I get from my breast encourages me to tweak, twist and turn it. Another text comes through.

“Did you do it?”

“Yes”

“How did it feel?”

I tell him honestly, “Amazing, electric…Hot!”

It takes a couple of minutes for the next message to come through.

“Good, I thought you might like it. Now I’d like you to touch yourself between your thighs. I want you to pretend that it’s my hand there. I want you to feel how wet your panties are for me, cos I know it will be because of me that you are wet.”

With shaking hands through excitement and not nerves, all I can type is, “Ok.”

It’s not that I don’t want to do this, but I pause wondering how I'm going to do it. My dress is long. Cashing in on my clumsiness I push a knife that is on the right of the table to the floor. With a clatter of metal against stone, the noise attracts a little attention from a woman on the next table. I smile and apologise, then she continues with her conversation. Apprehensively I reach down to pick it back up all the time looking around me. Grabbing the knife I don’t bring my hand up straight away. Instead I pull the hem of my dress up, hooking it above my knee. I shift in position a little so that I am able to bring the dress up my thigh and, rest the knife in between my leg and the seat of the chair. Feeling the air brush against my skin is enough for me to swiftly inhale. Thinking back to yesterday, we were outside then, but this is totally off the scale. An envelope symbol appears on the screen of my phone, opening the message it reads,

“Tell me what you are doing.”

It’s a good job I'm left handed, bloody hell!

“I've pulled the skirt of my dress up. I can feel your hand against my thigh.”

“Humm! That’s right baby. Now stroke the inside of your thigh.”

Casually I observe the happenings in the market which covers up the fact, that inside I am aroused to high heaven. I spread my legs a little and stroke the whole of that area. Slowly up and down, my fingers skim over the sensitive skin.

“Are you turned on by it Isabel?” is the next message.

“Yes” I type and I'm positive he’ll know that my breathing will have increased a touch.

“Good, I am with you baby. Now touch your panties. I want to be able to feel how wet they are. Slowly rub your clit like I did it.”

Without hesitation I do what he asks. I need this; I'm too far gone to want it to stop. As I hitch the skirt up further I touch the silk material and feel the dampness that has already soaked through. I hiss through my teeth as I touch my clit. The exertion of holding back the moans that are dying to escape from deep within my throat is causing beads of sweat to accumulate on my brow. I have to text him,

“I don’t know how long I can carry on, I'm getting close.”

Which is true! I'm so close to bringing myself to orgasm in a freaking restaurant. Marc’s reply is short.

“Do it!”

I curse repeatedly in my head. I have to bite my lip so hard I may draw blood. Grasping at a glass of water with my left hand, I bring it to my mouth so that I can gruffly moan into it as I tip over the edge of orgasmic oblivion.

Giving myself a couple of minutes to pull back together the seams that have been ripped apart, I straighten my dress again and place the knife back on to the table. Before I can type out a text the screen illuminates.

“Did you come for me Isabel?”

Understatement of the year so far goes to…

“Yes I did Marc and it was freaking awesome.” Sorry but I can’t hold back on the truth.

“Good. If it was as awesome for you as it was for me, then you must have one heck of a smile on your face.”

Confused by his text I decide to call him. 

“Hey!” he says.

“Marc, where are you?”

“Sitting in the car. I thought it was best to do what I was doing in private.”  

Cupping my mouth to mute the piercing cry of shock, I then start to laugh.

After that lunch flew by. The food was delicious by the way; I’d recommend it to anyone. Walking with a bounce in my step I felt more confident about myself. Was that his plan? Shaking my head I think to myself, I'm going to pick something to wear that will be for me and for Marc.


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