World Cup Distraction

“Fancy a quickie? Drink that is!” Elizabeth quickly added.

We’d finished hockey practice and were getting changed. Unfortunately, we hadn’t had a chance to catch up during the evening having been allocated to different groups and I wasn’t going to throw a five year old’s tantrum that I wasn’t with my friend.

The answer was only ever going to be “Yes, great idea.”

The fact that Elizabeth had suggested it was reassuring. I’d wondered if my antics from Monday may have put her off the idea of having me as a friend but apparently not.

We were somewhat surprised on entering the pub. It wasn’t rammed but was busy for midweek. Mostly men but a scattering of women too. Then the penny dropped. A quick look in the corner at the Tv. The World Cup was on. I don’t follow it, but assumed England wasn’t playing as there didn’t seem that exciting buzz or dejected atmosphere that usually follows their matches.

We got our drinks and managed to find a table tucked away in a corner.

If I’d been on my own the sight of all these potential recipients of my flashing would have been irresistible but I didn’t want to scare Elizabeth off by having her think I was going to expose myself every time we went out. Not yet anyway!

“I should thank you,” Elizabeth opened with.

“What for?”

“Monday.”

“You enjoyed it then?”

“The bit in the pub? Not sure enjoy is the right word but no, the fallout.”

I assume I looked puzzled because she continued, “When I got in I told Chris about it.”

“And?”

She picked up her glass, took a sip, and coyly smiled. “Bedroom secrets.”

“Oh my. Turned him on did it?”

She hesitated. “I said I wasn’t saying what happened behind that door but yes to an extent, but it had me too. He gave me a gold medal!”

“Wow. Great. Are gold medals handed out often?”

“Ha. No, half a dozen times a year I should think.”

“So on reflection, it did turn you on?”

“Must have done. A bit like watching porn I suppose but being closer to the action.”

“Do you watch much porn?”

She went red. Not scarlet but a few shades darker.

“You do have mystic powers. I said I wasn’t going to be explicit and look.”

“Hardly a revelation is it? I would have thought most couples watch these days.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. Not my friends anyway.”

“Perhaps they’re too reserved to talk about it.”

“That could be true but I think one can tell from general conversation. They are usually quite down on that sort of thing.”

I didn’t want the conversation to veer off into a discussion about porn, I wanted to find out more about Chris’s reaction.

“So Chris hasn’t forbidden you seeing this naughty new friend?”

She laughed. “No, not at all. In fact, he asked if I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“You think he wants you to go home with another tale to tell?”

“What man doesn’t want his wife coming home feeling sexy?”

“But what about you? You’re not embarrassed?”

I’d had an idea of what to do but needed to make sure Elizabeth would be on board.

“Oh yes, I was embarrassed all right, but that wasn’t the overriding emotion was it?”

“No idea. You tell me!”

“No. If I’m honest as soon as I got in the car I realised I’d found it exciting in a sexual way.”

“Tempted then? To do it?” Until that point, it hadn’t struck me how Elizabeth was dressed. Jeans as before but rather than the sweater she was wearing last week she was wearing a blazer style coat and a white blouse. Certainly a combination I’d wear if I wanted to flash a little. My hopes rose.

“Oh no! Definitely not!” Damn!

“But you don’t mind if I do?”

“Here? In this crowd?” Her voice had an incredulous tone.

“No point without an audience is there?”

“Yes, but last time, I mean it was just that one man, but here,” she looked around the crowded bar.

“More fun.” I responded. I could tell from her expression she wasn’t going to stop me. That she was getting excited at the prospect.

“Go on then. Get us thrown out.”

“That won’t happen.” I was a little concerned that might happen if spotted, but had to do what I’d thought of.

I undid my jeans waistband and unzipped.

“My god, you’re not?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. I didn’t reply.

Our table was in a corner with no one behind us. I was sitting facing the main seating area so my lower half was hidden by the table. I pushed my jeans down to my knees and pushed a hand into my knickers. Elizabeth couldn’t see what I was doing but it didn’t take an Einstein to work it out.

“Oh shit. Tracy!” she hissed looking nervously around the room. No one was taking the slightest interest in us. Far too interested in watching the 110th repay of a goal scored by someone they’d never heard of against a country they’d never heard of. Choices!

My fingers went to work. I was soon wet. Exceedingly wet. That no one could see what I was doing was a disappointment but fingering myself off in a crowded bar was giving me ample tremors. My fingers were working hard. I brought my other hand down and played with my clit. Oh god, I felt it coming. Breathing shallow. Legs trembling. I wanted to show it. Let the whole pub know what I was doing, but feared that would be too much for Elizabeth. As far as I could tell, not that I had much ability to concentrate on her, she seemed mesmerised by my antics. Which I hoped was a good sign. Time would tell. I wasn’t in a position to change course anyway.

Then it erupted. Thankfully in some ways a controllable eruption. As much as any orgasm can be controlled. The violent tremors in my legs were hidden by the table. I managed to stifle any noisy groans. I couldn’t stop the leakage though. My knickers, a small black thong, had hardly stopped the flow. My trousers were around my knees. They would be well soaked. That thought in itself produced more juice. The thought of walking out of the pub with jeans soaked around the crotch was so horny.

I started to come down from my high. My breathing became more normal. I had control again and looked at Elizabeth. Shit. From her expression, I feared I’d gone too far. She didn’t appear angry, more stunned. Shell shocked.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “was that too lewd?”

She started as if coming out of a trance. She didn’t answer my question.

“Did you really just do that? Or was it your voodoo again? Making me think I saw something I didn’t?” The phrasing made me relax. She wasn’t angry. If she had been I would have been called all the names under the sun, slut or whore, but not accused of voodoo.

“Yep. I really did.”

She laughed. Could have been hysterics but I didn’t think so! “Now I’ve seen it all. You know, that’s the first time in my life I’ve seen a woman orgasm.”

“You must have seen it in porn?”

“No, I mean live. In the same room as me. I’ve heard it a few times in hotels with thin walls but I’ve never ever watched a real live woman orgasm. Amazing.” She was still giving the impression of someone coming out of a trance. I wondered if I should be worried.

“And what’s the verdict?” I asked.

She looked into my eyes. “Fucking amazing!” she said in a tone that might have signified she’d just witnessed an unfathomable magic trick.

“Well perhaps when you tell Chris tonight, you’ll get to witness another.”

She laughed, “You could be right.”

I so wanted to touch her, to give her that orgasm, but I was mindful of what she’d said on Monday. I’d play it slowly.

“Want another drink?” I asked.

“Yes, I need it after that and something strong. I’ll get a taxi home.”

“No need. I’ll take you. I don’t need any more stimulants.”

“That is very obvious.”

I pulled my jeans back up. Yes, they felt wet but not as much as I thought they might. I stood up and glanced down at them. Not a huge patch at the front I guessed there’d be more at the back. I leant over to Elizabeth as I picked up the glasses. “I’ll get you a brandy. You might need it if you watch me walk to the bar.” She was confused by my comment thinking perhaps I was going to flash the guys as I went, but upon my return she said, “If someone a week ago had told me I’d be sitting in a pub with a woman who had orgasmed surrounded by a crowd of people, and then walked to the bar with an enormous wet patch on the back of her jeans I’d have told them they were crackers. Not here in sleepy Ipswich. Christ on a bike. You do take the biscuit, if you’ll excuse my mixed metaphors.”

“Has it excited you?” I asked. After tonight it didn’t seem too presumptuous to ask.

“You mean sexually?

“Yes.”

“No. Not at the moment. But then neither did Monday, not until I got in the car. I’ve a strong feeling that’s going to happen again.”

“No inclination to do it yourself?”

“None whatsoever!”

The conversation drifted on, a semi-sexy conversation about what I can’t recall and we eventually called it a night and walked back to my car. I drove her home, remembering the first evening I’d been out with Mary and driven her back. Elizabeth wasn’t in the same state and may well have been safe to drive but I was hoping the confines of the car would have an effect on her.

No such luck. A pleasant enough drive but no indication from her that she had any sexy feelings in my direction.

We arrived and she exited the car and said goodnight. “I must fix a date for you to come and have supper,” she said, “providing you promise not to frig yourself off at the dining table.”

“That would be great and I promise to behave.” (I had my fingers crossed behind my back!)

Her next statement quickened my heartbeat no end.

“Oh and I nearly forgot. John asked me to ask you if I saw you if he could come round on Saturday or any day that suits you to talk about an issue he’s having trouble understanding in his course.”

I said no of course!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!