When the Blood Pumps

Dear Avid Reader,

… I like scribbling but I guess you know that. And there is one thing you can do with this medium that is so much harder to do in others. I can only think of one film that manages it, but if i was to tell you that’d spoil the fun and… well, spoilers are no fun!


I love Fridays (and I hate them too). The weekend is almost here and as there is very little business on the streets round here on Saturday and Sunday the cafe is closed. The midday rush is upon us and the queue is out of the door. I keep looking towards the door and those queuing outside. I spy a head of blond hair, almost glowing in the bright summer sunshine, and wonder is it her. The other reason I particularly like Fridays is that where the object of my desire works they have a ‘dress-down Friday’ policy. She dresses so professionally Monday to Thursday, still very attractive, but on Fridays she is so much more relaxed and revealing in the way she dresses.

“Fuck” I swear under my breath as I manage to get a small steam burn off the coffee machine.

“Now, now!” admonishes Gus as he walks past. I glance at the array of customers; none seem to have heard me, as I turn on the cold tap in the sink beside the infernal coffee machine and hold my right small finger under the soothing stream of cold water while finishing the Mocha one handed. My eyes wander to the door once again and the blonde steps in. My heart skips a beat as I see it is Joanna. She is talking animatedly to a colleague as I glimpse a white man’s shirt covering her ample bosom. It isn’t quite see-through but with the sun behind her I can see she is wearing a red bra beneath it, the buttons undone so as to reveal a couple of inches of cleavage before the queue shifts and she once again obscured from my vantage point.

My mind is split in two as I serve the next customer and wonder what she wears when ‘out-on-the-town’. Slowly we fulfil everyone’s needs as she gets nearer to the counter. The lunchtime crowd are always quicker to serve as it is generally a drink and a pastry rather than something more substantial. I’m counting the customers between the counter and Joanna and realise, with some annoyance that Gus is probably going to serve her. She catches my glance and smiles at me; I hope that I’m not starting to blush as I return the smile.

Three to go and Joanna is destined to move to the left and into Gus’s care. I can’t help it but force a smile as the next customer steps up. I contemplate slowing down but I know Gus will make some comment and I’ll probably blush as he serves Joanna. Gus takes the next one and a few seconds later I take the one in front of Joanna. My eyes glance down to see she is wearing a tight deep blue skirt which hugs her hips and stops about six inches above her knee revealing her long tanned legs. A pair of Greek sandals on her feet and toenails painted black. I glimpse the small butterfly tattoo on the inside of her ankle and again wonder if she has any others.

I finish serving the city gent and look up to see Joanna still waiting. My heart beats harder once again as I see Gus with ‘Miss Diet-Mayo’. I smirk to myself at the nit-picking customer and Gus trying not to grate his teeth together too obviously.

“Hi Chris”

“Hi Joanne, the usual?” I ask. Her startling blue eyes flick to Gus and I feel a pang of jealousy.

“Please… and a black Americano as well” I can feel myself clamming up. About all I know about Joanna is her name and the company across the road she works for. How many times before this have I tried to open a conversation on anything other than caffeine and light snacks. Today is like all those other days. As I hand over her order she thanks me but I see her eyes flick to my colleague’s ass. I wonder if she knew how much of a ‘man slut’ he is would she still fancy him. She waves to him as she leaves with a friendly “Catch you later Gus!”

“Fuck!” I curse silently again deliberately pressing the fresh burn on my finger. The pain is sharp and clear unlike my thoughts.


My mood failed to improve through the rest of the day. Joanna didn’t appear again and as I travelled back to the house share on the bus I kept pressing the burn, some ‘out-of-kilter’ Pavlovian theory in my head. About nine o’clock my housemates (Paddy and Richie) dragged me down to a local watering hole. Even their best efforts failed to shake my sullen mood. Linda, a nineteen old student still fresh from the country and so excited to be in the big city, came over to me at the bar. She had been flirting with me for about a month and once again was making ‘doe-eyes’ at me. For a brief moment I looked at her blonde hair and imagined how easy it would have been to take her back to the house and strip her naked, forcing her to her knees and fucking her from behind till she begged me to stop while I imagined it was Joanne.

Instead I calmly and cruelly told her that if I wanted someone so young and “bloody naive” I’d be on a paedophile register. I watched the tears well up in her eyes and downed my drink and walked out. Paddy and Richie shook their heads at me as I passed them.


The next morning I awoke with a hangover. I was sure that it was as much to do with the guilt of having treated Linda so badly as to the amount of alcohol I had consumed the previous evening. I wandered downstairs to a frosty reception from Richie. Our other housemate, Emma, still dressed in her nurse’s uniform having just arrived in from night duty immediately picked up on the atmosphere.

“What the fuck happened last night?” she asked. I looked at Emma and a momentary grin appeared on my face. She spoke with a very posh accent and had a strange inability to swear with meaning. Whenever she used words like ‘fuck’ or ‘cunt’ it sounded like she was ordering sandwiches at an upmarket restaurant or hotel. Paddy was an unhealthy (as her parents would say) influence upon her. Richie caught the flash of my grin and immediately told her how Linda had been reduced to tears by my comment the previous evening.

“I thought you fancied her, Chris?” Emma said looking across the table at me while I sipped on a very strong black coffee.

“Look, I wasn’t myself…” Richie grunted, “I’m sorry… next time I see her I’ll apologise, okay?” I didn’t really mean it; I knew I’d probably do my best to avoid her though I did feel really bad about how I’d treated the young woman.

Emma looked from Richie to me and back again, “The wonderful Joanna?” Richie nodded and I blushed. It wasn’t the first time I had arrived back at the house disgruntled at my failure to attract the delectable Joanna. About a month previously after a Saturday night’s drinking we had played truth or dare and Emma had asked the question none had dared before about who it was that so often seemed to ‘fuck me off’ (of course sounding like she was a weather girl of the television) especially on Fridays. “The sooner you get into her panties the better, Chris!” she stretched her arms up into the air, I couldn’t help but drop me eyes down to her large breasts stretching the blue material of her uniform.

Emma caught my glance and winked mischievously as I looked back up. Could I blush anymore? Probably! “Right I’m off upstairs to fuck the mad Irishman and then get a few hours sleep and tonight we’re all off up the town to get completely plastered and hopefully get Chris a woman.” Emma began unbuttoning her uniform as she rose from the table exposing her very ample cleavage. Both Richie and I stared at those soft slopes. “If Paddy is too drunk to get it up I may be calling for assistance…” she said as she left the room.

Both Richie and I shook our heads at each other, grinning.


After a second cup of strong coffee I headed upstairs to shower. As I passed Paddy and Emma’s room I paused. I could hear the bed groaning from within and Emma, “That’s it… fuck my cunt… come on you bastard fuck me like you mean it…” Paddy was grunting loudly and I could still imagine Emma had just ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. I grinned broadly and wondered what Emma’s ‘Mater and Pater’ would think of Paddy if and when they met him. I hoped I would be there to see it.


The strobes flashed and the music pulsed in the club. The four of us had gone ‘uptown’ and after a meal had wandered down a small street towards the river to a ‘little club’ that Emma knew. It wasn’t really to my taste but the music was good and the company great. I’d driven and was enjoying my sobriety as my housemates got steadily drunker. I’d just been to the toilet and was weaving across the dance floor searching for my comrades when above the old eighties number I thought I heard my name called. I paused and looked about wondering if I had passed my housemates when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun about and almost fell over.

“Hi Chris” shouted the cause of my recent frustration.

“Ohhh… hi Joanna…”

She moved her mouth close to my ear, “I haven’t seen you in here before”

I inhaled her scent deeply before replying, “No… My first time…” my lips twitched as I wanted to press them against the flesh of her neck. “Is this a regular haunt of yours?”her blonde hair tickled my cheek. I wanted to pull back and properly survey the tight red dress she was wearing.


I pressed my mouth close to her ear, aware of my warm breath and how easy it would be to slide my tongue around that exquisite shell. I repeated my question.

“Most Saturday nights…” her lips glanced across my own ear and I felt my heart beat loudly within my own chest. I hadn’t realised but I had started to dance along with her and the blood ran instantly to my crotch as I felt her chest brush against mine.

I placed my left hand softly on her bare arm as I moved with her, “Pardon?”

She backed off slightly and took hold of my right hand and nodded behind her and then led me through the crowd. I looked down at her ass and bit my lip, images of my hands pulling up the red material and dropping to my knees to plant my lips on her glorious cheeks assaulted my mind.

We finally reached the bar where it was a little quieter. I was slightly saddened as it meant that the close bodily contact of dancing was gone but at least I had her to myself and the little red dress was even tighter than I thought. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it and a trickle of sweat had formed within her cleavage which I had a hard time not looking at. “I was saying I come here most Saturday nights… there’s a good crowd and it’s handy for my flat just across the river.”

I signalled one of the barmen who nodded to say he would get to me soon. “Must be handy for work as well, I guess, two miles?”

“Only a mile and a half, a good run there and back each day…saves on gym membership…” the image of Joanna ensconced in various limb spreading machines popped into my head unheeded. “I didn’t think you were local, Chris?”

“I’m not, I’m from way out west, it’s my housemate frequents this establishment.”

“Would that be Gus?” Joanna asked hopefully looking around the club much to my chagrin.

“Shit, I couldn’t ever live with Gus!” I blurted out.

Joanna raised a sculpted eyebrow, “Oh?”

At that moment the barman arrived, “What would you like?”

“I’ll get these-“

“Not at all, I sell you caffeine all week long, about time I bought you a drink” I interrupted.

“Okay then, I’ll have a Rum and coke”

“Light or dark?” I asked.

“Dark please, just one lump of ice”

I ordered a strong Jamaican Rum and a caffeine rich energy drink for myself. “Designated driver tonight… and maybe I had a bit too much last night” I replied to that questioning brow when the barman returned with our drinks.

“So, what was the answer to my question?”

“What question?” I answered innocently. I took a sip of my drink, my eyes dropping to her toned, tanned thighs; her red dress had ridden up her legs and I could imagine if the lighting had been better I would have been able to see her underwear. I wondered what it would be like to lick my way slowly up them towards her pussy.

“Why would you never share a house with Gus?” For the first time that I could remember Joanna had asked about Gus in a way that didn’t sound like she wanted his phone number.

“…err…I’m not sure I should say…”

“Oh, come on, spill the beans” she said placing those slim fingers of hers on mine.

It took all of my self control not to lace my own fingers through hers. For the briefest of moments I considered lying and saying that he was gay but eventually just told her the truth. “To be honest, our Gus, is a bit of a slut… I figure you’d never know who you might bump into the morning” I watched Joanna closely to gauge her reaction.

Her hand moved away from mine and she took a sip of her drink. She seemed to be mulling the information over in her mind before she replied, “I have to admit he doesn’t seem like the long term sort of bloke… and although I probably…would have, you don’t really want someone who has… been around the block a few times!”

I laughed, “Around the block …over it, under it and through it, forwards and backwards, more like!”

Joanna threw her head back laughing, her blonde hair flicking, to all intents and purposes in my mind like a model from a shampoo advert. “So… what about you, Chris…slut or virgin?”

“Somewhere in between I guess… though it’s been a while” I could feel myself blushing at my admission, wondering if my reddening cheeks would be obvious in the UV lighting of the club.

Joanna didn’t seem to notice my embarrassment or at least didn’t comment upon it, “I know the feeling… must be at least six months since I split up from my ex. Damn I miss his cock!” I sighed quietly. She looked about, “…and coming to places like this I never seem to meet anyone who isn’t blatantly just trying to get into my knickers. The fine art of subtlety is not to be found!”

I also looked about the club not wanting Joanne to see the look of disappointment in my eyes.

“What say you Chris? Two good looking girls like us and the big city; do you reckon we could find a couple of decent fellows?” as I turned back she noted my lack of smile. “Is there someone you’re holding out for? … I’m sorry, that’s none of my business!”

I could feel my eyes watering slightly and I quickly picked up my drink, splashing a little onto my right breast, muttering a swear word as the dark liquid stained my pristine white T-shirt. I picked up a napkin from the bar and dabbed at the stain aware of my hard nipple beneath my bra. “It’s okay… I’m pretty sure there aren’t any men out there for me.”

Joanna once again placed her hand on mine where it rested on the bar. I had to fight the urge to squeeze the napkin still on my breast with my other hand. “Don’t give up hope, girl!” she encouraged.

“Honestly, I’m pretty certain about it” my embarrassment was being replaced with anger as I wanted to say that I was a card carrying lesbian and all I wanted to do was get inside her knickers. I guessed I’d win points for subtlety at least.

I saw the ‘penny drop’ in Joanna’s eyes and she pulled her hand away from mine as if it had been electrocuted. “Oh!” she simply stated. I nodded. “You’re gay.” I nodded again. “I’m sorry… I never realised… I…err…” she stammered.

The brief flash of anger dissipated as I saw her cheeks colour, I guess it is just as obvious in UV lighting; I gave her a small smile and replied “I’m not.”

“Yes… no… I mean of course you are… not sorry” Damn the girl was even cuter when she was flustered.

“It’s okay, not as if I wear a sign or a T-shirt claiming ‘Glad to be Gay’!”

“No, of course not… I just… never figured… damn and I consider myself worldly wise too!” she laughed and called to the barman. Two more drinks arrived quickly even though I had barely touched my first. I could see Joanna re-appraising me in the light of this new information and questions pass behind her blue eyes. I suddenly realised that for the first time in her company, no matter how brief it normally was in the cafe, I wasn’t feeling intimidated.

“Do I take it you don’t know many lesbians?”

“I guess I don’t… though perhaps it’s just I don’t that they are… what’s it called…’Gaydar’?” I nodded. “None here it seems!”

“We go on special secret courses just so you ‘breeders’ can’t use it against us!”

Joanna had visibly relaxed once again and threw her head back as she laughed. “Breeders! Is that what you call us?” I grinned and nodded. “Okay, then, let us take another look at the sheep again and see if we can’t find a man and a woman for the two of us?”


I never did get into Joanna’s knickers though after that night the two of us became firm friends and I, seemly, became inoculated against her and no longer arrived back on a Friday like a bear with a sore head. I did eventually confess to her that I’d had the ‘hots’ for her for such a long time and occasionally I would catch a look in her eyes and see a hint of curiosity within. She is, and always will be a ‘Breeder’.

I should know as I am ‘fairy’ Godmother to her daughter, Christine.

The End


Hello, again, dear Avid Reader…

Yep, the ability to leave out salient facts and let your mind draw it’s own conclusion and hopefully spin you on your head at the big ‘reveal’! Scribbling is fun. I was going to let our heroine into the knickers of her heart’s desire but as I’ve said before some stories just have a mind of their own. The last line was literally the last line and only came to me at the very last. Well, as always, I hope you enjoyed.


~ by ftfagos on June 7, 2011.

7 Responses to “When the Blood Pumps”

  1. How does one NOT enjoy your ability to spin a story? Delicious as usual 😉


  2. Yes, excellant story writing.

  3. You brilliant bumlicker!!!! I know this was your plan… having the reader think that the main character was not quite “what” you thought on first impression. Now. Where did the inspiration for this one come from? And that last line? Perfect!!!

  4. Fantastic tale Hound! Had me fooled for a while there but loved the twist! As always..a pleasure to read your workings.

  5. Woman! You know me by now.. I have very little idea where some off my stories come from… maybe Harold ouught to let me know what o’ the name of the Meerkat in my head is called???
    Anyhows… i was just thinking on this story when i realised that the pre-conceptions and prejudices i was relying on to side track ‘dear avid’ are of course not shared by all. so i was wondering about those who read this who are of a different ilk, did they ‘Not get it’ or are society’s social constraints still strong. So (and you know i mean you ‘Isee’) are we ALL slaves to the machine? Hmmm…sounds like a story title… maybe a little too much rpm…?



  6. Harold shall return to comment when he has had a proper take-your-time-hold back for a while- then just explode orgasm. Rpm’s my fanny. PFFFT!

  7. […] Can you feel your heart beat…? […]

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