Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
This is my first foray into the world of writing erotic fiction. I didn’t want to create something that was simply about sex. Like all of of my other work on phicklephilly I like to tell a story. So I did my research and worked on this story and a few others over the last year.
I hope this works.
When Teresa invited me out for a coffee, I accepted quite happily. I had no idea that it was going to lead to one of the greatest weekends of my life.
I first met Teresa at university, when we were seniors. It took me three months to convince her to go out with me, then three more months to persuade her to sleep with me. Teresa never did anything by halves: once we consummated the relationship, so to speak, she was well-nigh insatiable. We had sex everywhere, anywhere, anytime.
But she was also a wonderful companion, and a superb conversationalist who frequently challenged me. Teresa was at least my intellectual equal, if not my superior.
And she was beautiful. She had long auburn hair, flawless skin, full lips, and the most amazing expression. I don’t quite know how to describe it: Teresa rarely showed her teeth when she laughed, or smiled. Instead, a half-smile would slowly grow and spread across her face, until she looked like the Mona Lisa’s happier – and hotter – sister.
As for her body – She was 5’8″, with 37-23-35 measurements. I know, because I took her dress shopping. She was comfortable in the nude, so that I got to admire her naked form on many occasions. And that’s all I’m going to tell you – for now.
After a phenomenal, passionate year and a half, she dumped me. She kept it simple, straightforward, and brutally honest: ‘You’re not ready, Colin’.
I wasn’t sure what she meant: not ready for what? Marriage? Of course not. A serious relationship? I thought we were in one.
She was probably right, though. I was still pretty immature. But I wasn’t ready to give up hope that we could possibly have a second chance. Over the next year, she dated a couple of guys – nothing serious, though. I went out with a few girls, too, but they didn’t last very long. It was impossible not to compare them with Teresa, and none of them could survive that. In the meantime, we remained good friends. We socialized frequently; many times just the two of us.
There was no pretense between us. Teresa knew that I still wanted her. She made it plain that she wasn’t interested in me that way. Instead, she would ask about whatever girl I might be seeing, or interested in. Teresa often had good advice for me in the dating department. I have to admit, it’s a bit odd when your ex-girlfriend is helping you score with your next girlfriend.
Teresa was waiting for me at the cafe, wearing a pair of very short white shorts, and a loose t-shirt. She saw me, and rewarded me with that patented smile. She stood up, greeting me with a kiss on both cheeks, and a warm hug that told me quite clearly that her wonderful breasts were not encumbered by a bra.
I got a coffee, and joined her. Teresa had her laptop open on the table.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked her.
– “Are you free Thanksgiving weekend?” she asked. (Canadian Thanksgiving falls on the 2nd Monday in October – it’s always a long weekend)
– “That’s almost two months away.”
– “Put it on your calendar. You won’t want to miss this.” she said.
– “Miss what?”
– “Murder Mystery Weekend.” said Teresa.
I grinned. She was right: I would not want to miss that. When we were still a couple, we had co-hosted a murder mystery dinner. You may know the type: you can buy a boxed game version, or download one online. The guests all play a part, and try to uncover the identity of the murderer among them. People dress up, when the story has a theme, and most really get into the role-playing, or solving the mystery. For those who don’t, there’s good food, good company, and plenty to drink.
– “Did you say weekend?” I asked. “A whole weekend? Where?”
– “Eliza’s cottage. The whole weekend.” she said.
– “I’m in.”
Teresa just smiled at me, as if to say ‘Of course you are’. Damn right I was. Girls and costumes? Somebody was going to get lucky – hopefully me. And I had already been to Eliza’s cottage. If you’re picturing a rustic cabin in the woods, think again: it was more like a mansion by the lake.
– “It was partly Eliza’s idea. Her family are all away, and they asked her to close the cottage for the winter. You know: take the boat and the dock out of the water, clean up, close the boathouse.”
– “Many hands make short work.” I said.
– “Right. So Eliza thought she should invite a gang up, and make it into a party. Then Claire said the party should have a theme …”
– “God Bless her. So you suggested the Murder Mystery?”
– “I most certainly did.” said Teresa.
– “Do you have one in mind?” I asked “All of the ones I saw before were for a dinner party – a single night. Are you looking for something that will stretch over the entire long weekend?”
– “That’s the plan.” she said.
– “Boxed version, or download?”
Teresa shook her head. “I’m going to write it myself.”
“Really? Wow! I’m impressed.” And I was. Teresa is a smart cookie. If anyone could pull it off, she could. “Do you need help? I mean – is there anything I can do to help you?”
– “Since you mention it … yes, I could use your help.”
– “Name it.” I said.
– “I need you to help persuade the other guests to get costumes. The better they dress up, the more they’ll get into it, and the more fun it will be.” she told me.
– “Can do. What kind of costumes? What’s the theme?” I asked.
– “Pirate ship.” said Teresa, and that half-smile crept across her face.
– “Niiice.” I liked the sound of that. “You mean skull and crossbones, Pirates of the Caribbean – that sort of thing?” I was picturing sexy pirate women in my head.
– “Exactly. Buccaneers and freebooters. The women just as much as the men. Can you locate some good costumes for people who may not know where to look?”
– “Costume rental company, theatrical suppliers – I can do that.” I told her.
– “Thanks.” she said. “Then I also need your help to round out the guest list. I have nine so far, but we need eleven. People willing to dress up and role play, preferably – but also people who aren’t tied down by family commitments. They have to be able to get away for Thanksgiving.”
– “Who do you have so far?” I wondered.
– “You and me. Eliza, Claire, and Leo.”
I nodded. Eliza and Claire were best friends, inseparable since grade school. Leo was Claire’s older brother, and my best buddy from high school. We were still close.
“Ben, and Barbara.” continued Teresa.
I didn’t nod this time. I knew Ben well, but didn’t particularly care for him. He was good-looking and personable – which I didn’t hold against him – but in the past, he had also gone after a few girls that I was actively pursuing. That didn’t sit so well with me. He was also ultra-competitive, just like me.
Barbara was a bit of a surprise choice. Teresa knew her from grad school, but I didn’t think that they got along. Barbara was extroverted, high energy, and brazenly sexy. She talked loud, and lived large.
– “Barbara?” I said, with one eyebrow raised.
– “She’ll be perfect.” said Teresa. “And I’ve invited Craig, too.”
No problem there. I didn’t know Craig very well, but he seemed to be one of those rare guys that everybody likes – a prince. A bit shy, but always ready to help out, never boastful or pushy.
– “Good choice, if we can get him to dress up.” I observed.
– “That’s your job.” Teresa reminded me.
– “That makes eight. And the ninth?”
– “I think you’ll like her. Her name is Lena, and she’s studying here on exchange for a year. Professor Hand put her in my tutorial group, and asked me to keep an eye on her.”
– “Why you?” I asked. ‘Because you’re so warm and welcoming?”
Teresa smiled. “No. Get this. He said: ‘You two should understand each other. You’re practically neighbours.'”
– “Where is she from?” I asked.
I had to laugh. Teresa was born in Romania, before her parents emigrated when she was about six. Romania and Slovenia are only about 1,000 kilometers apart. Say, 700 miles. And the languages? Slovenian is a Slavic language, while Romanian is Latin-based.
– “Do you get along?” I asked her.
– “We’re fine.” said Teresa. “She’s sweet. But she’s painfully shy because her English isn’t very good yet. I already know that she’ll be at loose ends for Thanksgiving, so I invited her. That just leaves two spots, and I’m fresh out of ideas.”
– “Has to be 11?” I asked.
– “I’ve already written the parts.” she confirmed.
The first people Teresa had chosen were mostly friends of mine. I had introduced her to them, or we both knew them from grad school. I tried to think of people she might know who would fit the part.
“Sheila.” I suggested.
– “The English teacher?” she said. “Would she be up for it?”
– “She loves theatre. And she goes all out on Halloween.”
– “Single? Or in a relationship?” asked Teresa.
– “I’m pretty sure she’s single – but I’ll double check.” I said.
– “I liked Sheila. If you can get her, that would be great. One more, Colin. Should be a male. For balance. And so I don’t have to change a part.”
It took me several minutes, and a second coffee, to think of someone.
“Eric?” I said it with some hesitation.
I have to give her credit; Teresa didn’t make a face. She had only met Eric once, and my old friend from 1st year political science had not covered himself in glory. At a dinner for six people, he arrived drunk, polished off another bottle of wine, and then passed out on our couch before the dessert could be served.
– “Why Eric?” she asked. She was giving me a chance to convince her.
I listed my reasons on my fingertips. “One, he’s pretty bright, and he would probably love a murder mystery. Second, he’s a history buff, so the pirate theme would work for him. Third, I don’t think he has any close family, so he’s definitely free for Thanksgiving. Fourth … I think you might actually like him, if he wasn’t passed out on the couch and ruining your dinner party.”
– “Maybe.” she conceded.
– “And fifth.” I added. “I can’t think of anyone else. I mean, I can think of lots of people who would enjoy the weekend, and the murder mystery … it’s just that so many of them have family obligations.”
– “Eric snores.” said Teresa.
– “I know.”
– “Alright.” she said. “Eric it is. You can share a room with him.”
Feedback (negative and positive is welcome.) This is all new territory or me!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, share, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish everyday.
“The sky opens up and she whips out an umbrella and we both huddle under it just like on our very first date.”
Here we are on New Year’s Eve. I wish you all a Happy New Year. As you read this I am asleep, because I worked a 10 hour day yesterday and then went to my beloved friend James’ birthday at a lovely dive bar in Kensington beyond midnight. (Monkey Club)
I edited this piece and then spoke with my buddy Church on the phone. We decided to meet up tomorrow afternoon for a few hours.
I’ll sleep in because we’re closed for the next 2 days. I’ll edit the blog for the week at Cavanaugh’s and enjoy my half of lunch as usual.
Thank you all for everything. I’ll be posting a special New Years Day post tomorrow morning at 8am to give you a glimpse into what is coming in this blog in 2019.
I wish you all a healthy and happy New Year!
I get to Suburban Station around 3:30. She should be here any second. I walk down to the platform when the train pulls in and I see her. She smiles and walks toward me. Great thing is, I saw her last weekend too. So, there’s some continuity here. When we’re apart for three to four weeks at a time I know it’s hard for both of us.
She looks great. Her hair is still all braided into light and dark dreds and she looks sexy as hell. We walk down 18th Street towards Rittenhouse. For the moment it isn’t raining.
“How long can I keep you today?”
“I have to be on a 9:30 train tonight.”
The sky opens up and she whips out an umbrella and we both huddle under it just like on our very first date.
It’ll be another short stay for Cheri. But She stayed over last Saturday and it was glorious. The downside of a short stay for Cherie is that she’s here, we do greatest hits and then she’s gone. The upside for me is that we do greatest hits and then she’s gone.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Cherie very much. She’s a wonderful girl. But let’s be honest, I think most men would agree that if they could have their alone time to do whatever they want, then a hot girl on the right side of thirty stopped by their house for a few hours of fun, and then simply left and you didn’t have to spend one thin dime on them, you’d totally love it. It’s all the kissing, and chatting, and holding and mind bending sex, and then she’s gone. It would be like you could bang Cinderella, and at midnight she turns into a pizza and a six-pack. A dream come true!
We get back to the house and we run the program. If we had gone somewhere and did something, or saw something, I’d write all about it. You know I would, but with her limited schedule she can only see me when she can see me. So we get down to business to fill her burning desire. I must feed the beast. And feed her I do, again and again.
Alas, Phicklephilly is a dating blog, not a sex blog. Maybe I should write a separate erotic blog, and call it La Petite Mort, and write a bunch of graphic sex stories. You could read the date stuff here and then link over to the other blog for the juicy stuff.
I love being in bed with Cherie. Her skin is so soft. Her body is absolutely beautiful. Just luscious curves of sleek brown flesh.
Our brief repose is wonderful. I’ll take her to the train, and then come home and have a vodka club and a cigarette. Just basking in the afterglow of my afternoon with my Cherie. Wondering when next I’ll see my lovely girl.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.