Free Don't You Want Me? by India Knight Page A

tie, thrusting allthe while, not quite in tune with the music. His clenched fists were down by his swivelling hips, pumping in and out like a choo-choo train. I constantly ask myself whether prowess on the dance floor is indicative of prowess in the sack; if so, then I was clearly in for a bit of a spasticated ride. I was just standing there, watching the display with mounting dismay and wondering whether I ought just to go home, when he spoke.
    ‘Come here,’ said Dr Cooper, his voice sounding all hoarse. ‘You make me hot.’
    ‘OK,’ I said, unnecessarily, moving forward. ‘Do you, um, want me to dance too?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Cooper, pushing his face into my neck and – eeeuww – licking it. ‘Dance with me, hot lady.’
    You know when you really, really want to laugh, but you’re not allowed to, and how the forbiddenness makes it so much worse? It was like that. I wanted to snort, to honk, to
bray
with laughter, to lie on the floor and clutch my stomach and
howl
, but I didn’t. I also really, really wanted a shag – and I know how bad it looks, or at least how mysterious, but you’ve got to trust me: there was something inexplicably sexy about him. He had a nice body, even if it was writhing about all over the place malcoordinatedly. So I danced.
    Eventually – quite quickly, really – I was dancing with his hand in my pants. This was when he turned me around and moved behind me, so that we were both facing the wall of mirrors. I’ve never had a great desire to watch myself bobbing about half-naked to Barry White, so I shut my eyes, which of course William interpreted as a sign of deepest ecstasy.
    ‘Do I make you come?’ his voice whispered wetly intomy ear, followed by an odd sort of whinnying noise: he sounded like Austin Powers crossed with a pony, and like the kind of man who spells ‘come’ c-u-m.
    ‘Mmm,’ I said, because, really, what can you say without sounding rude? ‘Not yet, actually.’ Which
did
sound rude, so I added, sounding to myself strangely like a dowager duchess, ‘But I’m, er, I’m sure you will. Soon, you know. Later.’
    ‘I’m gonna make you come so hard,’ Cooper stated, very categorical. ‘Harder than you’ve ever come before.’ He made the strange whinnying noise again: ‘Neeiiiigh.’
    ‘Jolly good,’ I said uncharacteristically. All that whinnying reminded me of Thelwell ponies, and I’d adapted my language accordingly, obviously. ‘Shall we, er?’ I asked, gesturing to what I imagined to be the bedroom.
    ‘You can’t wait, can you? You
can’t wait
,’ Cooper said, looking pleased. He stared at himself in the mirror, one hand quickly reaching up to push his hair back. ‘You dirty girl.’
    ‘Quite. Shall we go?’ I said, because really we had to, before I lost my nerve or started laughing dementedly.
    ‘Dirty, dirty girl,’ he repeated. And then he led me by the hand to the bedroom, doing his weird dancing all the while.

6
    I’m not going to go into too much detail here. On the plus side: the sheets may have been satin, but the ceiling was not mirrored, which was a bonus. Dr Cooper had rather a large penis, ditto. He was very athletic, though still in his oddly plastic way: I was reminded of contorting an Action Man into unlikely positions. He knew a couple of neat tricks. He left my bot alone, as decreed. I had one small orgasm. Mustn’t grumble, really, since that was pretty much what I came for.
    On the other hand, I’m not really the mustn’t grumble type. So, on the minus side: when we were in the bedroom and I was getting undressed, he crawled all over the bed and roared like a tiger. Yes, really: raaah. And then he talked
non-stop
. I don’t mind a bit of commentary, but this gave me ear-ache – not helped by the fact that the vocabulary used was, as I’ve already mentioned, on the Austin Powers side. Also, I think that if you’re going to go down the dirty-talking route, it helps to have an almost unintelligibly rough accent