Flowers in the Bin

It had been six months of hell, and the fact that I was finally about to do something about it felt brilliant. As I sat on the train to Heathrow Airport I imagined in my mind what Jane's reaction would be when she saw me. The anticipation was killing me, and I was clutching my ticket to hard, as though I was scared of losing it.

Since graduating the previous summer I had been temping endlessly while I waited for the job in advertising that I wanted. Jane, who had been a year below me at the university where we met, was spending a year abroad in Australia, in Melbourne, as part of her degree. We had been together a little over a year when she left, and although neither of us had been looking forward to the year apart, this was something she had wanted to do for years, so who was I to stop her? She was staying there for the whole year, not coming back at all, as flights are not exactly cheap. We had kept the relationship alive by writing to each other the whole time and the odd phone call, when we were feeling particularly flush.

But now, I was coming to see her!! What made this all the more fun was the fact that she had no idea that I was flying over. I had been living as cheaply as I could since she left, saving everything until I could finally afford the plane ticket, and then I'd taken two weeks off and packed a suitcase. And so I found myself on the train, heading for the airport, and my heart was beating like that of a teenager about to go on a first date.

Finally I got to the airport, checked in, bought a sandwich and boarded my flight. Once in the air, I forced myself to relax. It was going to be a long flight, no point staying wound up or I'd keel over before I even got there. I made myself sleep, mainly to pass the time, but also to avoid the inevitable jet lag as best as I could. Every time I drifted off, though, my head was full of Jane, catching sight of me, running to meet me, with heavy romantic music in the background... I'd then wake and remember that my life was not a movie.

Finally, several hours later we touched down in Melbourne, and my heart began to pound again. It was early evening, but having just come from an English winter I was taken aback by the heat - it was mid summer here and I hadn't imagined it being this hot. We, the passengers, made our way through the terminal, collected our baggage, and then spread out, some being met by friends or relatives and some having emotional reunions with loved ones. When I saw these scenes I felt a pang of regret for not telling Jane I was coming and having her meet me at the airport, but these disappeared when I reminded myself how much she would enjoy her surprise. I found a taxi, and showed the driver the address I had. He loaded my baggage in the boot and we set off. "English, are you?" he asked, as we drove along. "Yep," I said. "Visiting anyone?" he probed further. "Yeah, an old friend," I told him. No need to come out to someone I'll only know for ten minutes. "I'm here for a couple of weeks." "You'll love it," he said, and proceeded to go off on an extended ramble about the wonders of Melbourne.

Finally, we arrived, and he gave me my suitcase and charged me fifteen dollars. As he drove off, I looked at the house that I now stood before. It wasn't that big, but I knew Jane as sharing with three other students. I remembered her saying that they knew she was gay, so I figured I would be warmly received. I climbed the few steps to the door and rang the bell. After a few seconds, a tall man of about my age opened the door. "Hi," I said. "Er, is Jane here?"

"No," he said, in a broad Scottish accent, "she's gone out. She didn't say she was expecting anyone." "Well, I'm here to surprise her," I explained. "I'm the girlfriend." "From England?" he said, suddenly comprehending the situation, "wow, you'd better come in." "Thanks," I replied, and hauled my suitcase inside. I quickly discovered that he was the only person home, and that he himself was going out shortly.

"Do you know where Jane is?" I asked, "only I'd like to find her." "Yeah, she's at this bar she always goes to," he said, "I can drop you off if you like... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." "I'm Anne."

"Pleased to know you, Anne. I'm Craig." About fifteen minutes later I was on the road again, this time in Craig's car. He told me that he was doing the same course as Jane at another university, and he too was spending his year abroad in Melbourne. Shortly we pulled up to a small bar, which he indicated was the one I wanted. I thanked him, and holding a bunch of flowers that I'd bought at the airport, I got out of the car. The bar was obviously a gay one, judging by the couples entering and leaving it. With my heart beating louder than ever, I took a deep breath and walked in.

It was fairly crowded inside, and I scanned all the heads, looking for the familiar sight of my Jane. As I did so I was not looking where I was going, and I bumped into a girl leaving the bar with two drinks. Fortunately the spillage was minimal, and I apologised. The girl went over to a corner table and put the drinks down before kissing another girl on the lips - a kiss of real affection. When she pulled away, though, I nearly screamed. The other girl was Jane.

I couldn't move, I just stared, incredulous, at Jane with this other girl. She was completely oblivious of me, and had her arms around the drink carrier. Every few seconds they would kiss one another, or Jane would nuzzle her neck, and I felt as though my world had just collapsed. I wanted to say something, but no words could convey my feelings, so I just stared. After a couple of minutes, Jane nonchalantly looked around the room. In any other situation her double take upon seeing me would have been amusing. Her face went white, and the look of guilt gave me a small amount of satisfaction. She wriggled free from the arms of the girl, and I saw her mouth 'Anne'. She started to get up, and this was the point at which I turned around and walked out, almost running. When I got out into the cool evening air I realised I didn't know where to go, and my pause allowed Jane to catch me. She placed a hand on my shoulder from behind, and I whirled around, angrier than I could remember ever being.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. I nearly exploded. "I came to see you," I bellowed, "because I missed you. And this is what I fucking find? I've flown from England to surprise you, and find you carrying on with some whore!" "Let me explain," she started.

"Explain what?" I yelled, getting angrier. "Don't tell me it isn't what it fucking well looks like! What were you gonna do, come home to me and pretend it never fucking happened? Christ, I trusted you, and this is what I get?" I paused, but only for a second. "You shit. You absolute shit." "Anne, listen," she started, putting her hand on my arm, but I swatted her away. "I'm not going to listen to a word you have to say. Go and fuck the little cunt, go on." Jane didn't move, so I continued, louder, "Go on!! Fuck off Jane, you cheating bitch."

She looked at me with genuine sadness in her eyes, but I had no sympathy. I felt such coldness towards her suddenly. Jane turned around, and slowly walked back into the bar. I watched her go, then turned around myself, and started to walk aimlessly. There was a park opposite, so I thought I'd head for that. On my way I passed a bin, and tossed in the bunch of flowers I was still holding. Finally I sat myself down on a bench and began to sob uncontrollably.

It must have been some twenty minutes later that I felt someone's presence beside me. I looked up and saw a woman, maybe four or five years older than me, sitting there. "Thought you might need some company," she said softly. I couldn't respond just yet, I was still too choked up. "I saw what happened," she went on, "I guess you are the girlfriend from England."

Ten out of ten, I thought. "When Jane and Mary started getting together," she continued, "we thought you and her had broken up. It never occurred to anyone that she was going behind your back." "How long has it been going on?" I asked. "Couple of weeks, no more," the woman said. "This must be awful for you."

"It's not great," I conceded. "Anne, isn't it?" she said. "I'm Sara. Where are you staying?" "I was going to be staying with Jane, but so much for that," I sighed.

"Look, I live just a couple of blocks away," she said, "and you could stay in my spare room tonight and sort things out in the morning." I finally lifted my head and looked at Sara. She looked fairly unthreatening, and I didn't exactly have an alternative. "That's kind of you," I said, "but I don't want to put you out." "Not at all," she said, "it's no trouble." So we left the park and walked the couple of hundred yards to Sara's building. We climbed the two flights of stairs, and Sara let us in. The flat was moderately spacious and very lived in, with a fairly old looking sofa in the centre which I immediately headed for. "Coffee?" asked Sara, and I replied in the affirmative while I made myself comfortable.

"You live here alone?" I enquired. "Yep," she said, "eternally single, that's me." I wondered why. She was certainly not unattractive. She was of medium height and had a slight build, and her mid length dark hair was cut into layers. Her face smiled often and she looked like a kind person, as much as people can 'look' kind. When she finished making the coffee she sat down next to me on the sofa. "So," she began, "how long have you and Jane been together?" "Just over eighteen months," I said, though this was hardly my favourite subject at the moment. Sara detected this. "We don't have to talk about her. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No need to apologise," I said, "it's just that I so didn't see this coming. Perhaps I should have." "You are worth more than her," she said. "You don't know that," I replied, "You've only just met me." "You came half way around the world just to see her," she said, "That is such a sweet and loving thing to do. It speaks volumes." I smiled. "Maybe," I said, "but I can't be that great for her to cheat on me."

"That's her fault, not yours," Sara reassured me, "Don't beat yourself up over it." I couldn't help it though. I felt absolutely betrayed, and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt the tears start to flow again, and once more I was crying so hard. Sara put an arm around me and I clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder, wanting the pain to stop. She put her other arm around me and hugged me to her, and I let out all the hurt I was feeling, all the agony, until I had nothing left. I don't know what made me kiss her. All I know is that I did, I kissed her hard, as though I needed her. After only two or three seconds she pulled back.

"I don't think that is wise," she said. "Why not?" I asked, still devoid of my usual sensibilities. "Because you are just very upset," she answered, "and I don't like taking advantage of people, and this won't make you feel any better." "Maybe not in the long term," I said, "but you are very attractive and I feel horribly unloved right now." "Sleeping with me just to get back at Jane is not going to help anyone."

"I don't want to get back at Jane, and I admit this is against my better judgement, but I couldn't possibly feel any worse and you strike me as someone who could, in fact, make me feel a whole lot better right now." "I just think..."

"Do you find me attractive?" "Well... yes." "If I hadn't just been dumped and you met me in a bar under normal circumstances, would you take me home?" "Probably."

"Well then." I smiled at her, and Sara laughed. "If this backfires on you," she said, "it's not my fault." I grinned at her and kissed her again, this time more gently. It was tentative at first as I just enjoyed the feel of her lips; they were beautifully soft. I felt her part her lips slightly, and the first touch of her tongue against my mouth, which prompted me to open my own lips and allow her access. As she started to explore my mouth I did the same.

She tasted of the coffee she had just made, with a faint hint of wine from earlier in the evening. As this kiss grew in passion and intensity I pulled her closed to me, I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine. As I did so, I felt her pushing me back, so that I was lying beneath her on the sofa. She weighed little, and we fitted together very well indeed. I ran my fingers though her hair, pulling her head closer still, and at the same time I felt her hands on my hips and her knee between my thighs. I remembered that it had been over a year and a half since I last even kissed anyone who wasn't Jane and six months since my last sexual contact with anyone at all, and it all felt wonderfully new again. Like the first time ever, only with the added advantage of knowing what to do. I began to franticly unbutton Sara's blouse, and she responded but sitting up and pulling my shirt over my head.

Then she placed a hand behind my back and undid my bra ('One handed!' I thought, impressed) and then pulled it away. I could feel her eyes tracing over my skin and felt momentarily self-conscious, but this was relieved when I undid the last button and she shrugged her blouse off. I was delighted to see that she wasn't wearing a bra (all that unhitching, it only gets in the way of the fun stuff) and I pulled her down on top of me once more. By now the pressure exerted by her knee between my legs was becoming unbearable, although I probably did myself no favours by grinding against her. I needed to be touched so badly, yet at the same time the way that she was now kissing my neck felt so exquisite that I didn't want to rush her. My fingers inspected the contours of her front and back, with one hand happily coming to rest on her left breast, which was a perfect size, the ideal handful!

The other hand slipped just under the edge of her trousers, and all the while her mouth was gradually moving down my body. I was moaning softly now, at the sensations she was invoking within me. She paused at my nipples, which were standing to attention, and gently took each into her mouth in turn, before sucking harder, making me writhe around on the cushions. My whole body was tingling, but one part of me in particular, and my need to be touched was starting to overwhelm me. I started to undo her trousers, and pushed them down as far as I could. She did the same, and then got up for a second to allow me to kick off my shoes and before she removed my jeans and my knickers in one go. Standing before me, she slowly took off her own trousers in the most deliciously teasing way. When she was fully naked like me, I reached out to pull her back to me, but she resisted.

"I know how badly you want it, but I need satisfaction too," she said in a low voice. "Stay there, I'll be back in a second." She went into what I presume was her bedroom, and while she was gone I had to fight the urge to touch myself, very difficult given the level of arousal I was feeling. Fortunately she was not gone for long, and she returned with a thick double-headed dildo in her hand. Realising her intentions I smiled.

She told me to sit up on the sofa, and when I did she parted my legs to reveal my soaking pussy. She smiled at the sight, and slowly started to run first one finger, then two, up and down it, pausing only at my clit where she concentrated her rubbing a little more. Then with the other hand she brought one end of the dildo to my opening. Without waiting for permission she pushed the cock inside me, up to the joint in the centre. It must have been nine or ten inches, and combined with the thickness and the way in which I was sitting, my pussy felt so full. I groaned with pleasure as it went in.

Sara then climbed on top of me and positioned her own pussy above the other head. She put a hand on each of my shoulders to balance herself, and I guided her onto the shaft, which she expertly slid down onto. I could hear how wet she was, and I took the opportunity to run a hand up her thigh to her clit, which I stroked. She clearly enjoyed this a great deal, and started to rock back and forth, only little movements at first, but enough to move my end of the dildo inside me. The internal friction felt so good, and I too started to rock, and we established a rhythm by which whenever it moved out of her it moved into me, and vice versa.

My wetness caused the faux-cock to slide in and out of me with ease, and shortly our small movements had turned into considerable thrusts, as we both moaned, sighed, gasped and held each other so tight on our way to orgasm. The floodgates opened for her first, and she was screaming the place down as she came so hard. I was not far behind her, and I felt wave after wave of pleasure pulsating through my body. As we came together we continued to thrust harder and harder, until finally she could take no more and we slowed. Sara climbed off me, and I removed the dildo from my spent pussy. She and I collapsed together on the sofa and lay still for a while. After a few minutes though, I felt a sudden need. "Sara," I asked, "would you lick me?"

"Of course," she replied, "with pleasure! You should have asked sooner." She lowered herself to the floor and I presented my pussy to her, still wet from our earlier exploits. Slowly she started to caress me with her tongue, and I shut my eyes and allowed my body to simply enjoy the sensations. I wasn't expecting to climax again, I just wanted to feel her tongue on my pussy.

She started to lap at my engorged clit, and soon I could feel the potential to orgasm grow again inside me. I was surprised, normally I was far to sensitive after coming once to be able to do so again for quite some time, but the way Sara was working me pussy was having an unforeseen effect on me. I was pushing my pussy harder against her mouth, and she was holding onto my hips. When she started to suck on my clit I thought I would implode, but the absolute last straw was when she pushed three fingers inside me at the same time. I screamed so loudly, half of Melbourne must have heard me. Every time I thought that was all I could take, she would thrust again and my body would spasm. I had never felt so good, it was so thorough, so raw, such pure unadulterated sex.

When I finally came down, I knew that far from regrets, this was exactly what I had needed. As Sara climbed back onto the sofa with me, Jane already seemed like a distant memory. And I no longer needed her.

That was the only time I slept with Sara, though we stayed in touch for a year or so afterwards. The following day she took me to Jane's, and fortunately she was out, so I was able to get my luggage. My flight was transferred and I flew home the same day. I never heard from Jane again.