The Cure

I saw it was an unknown number when my phone rang. I answered it anyway. I was hoping it wasn’t another telemarketer.

“Hello?”

A woman asked if that was Mark, Mark Wilson.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Pauline.”

“Pauline?”

“Pauline Dyer, or Pauline Crook, that was.”

The name was familiar, but I was struggling to remember her. Then it hit me.

“Dave’s ex, from like ten years ago?”

“Oh, thanks. You only think of me via him?”

“It was ten years ago. So let’s skip how you got my number and right to the chase. What are you after?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I did know you for more than a year.”

“Fine! I need a favour…” I sighed. Of course she did.

“What?”

“I’ve got a big family wedding in a couple of weeks and I need to come back home for it, as I’m one of the cousin’s bridesmaids. And mum badgered me to book a hotel months and months ago, and I procrastinated and never got around to it.”

That was very much like her. Unless it was drinking or Sex, everything else could wait for tomorrow.

“Now, I’ve left it too late and everywhere is full.”

“Everywhere?”

“OK, not everywhere, but money is tight and I can’t afford to spend £100 a night. I’ve tried calling all my old friends, but they’re all married with kids, and I hate kids. You’re my last chance. Can I crash on your sofa? Unless you’re married with kids?”

“No, to the married with kids. And I’m not sure about…”

“Please? I’m begging and you do owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“All those times I let you get a peek at my goodies when I was dating Dave.”

“I seem to remember you tormenting me for your own amusement.

“Tomayto tomahto. Please Mark, it’s only for a couple of nights. Pleasey wheezy?” She finished in her little girl voice that used to annoy the heck out of me.

“Fine! But my place is tiny. When is it?”

“The wedding is a week on Saturday. But my train arrives at 6:30 on Wednesday evening. Could you pick me up? Love you, bye.” She hung up before I could object.

I sighed again and remembered her back then.

Dave and I were 20 and sharing a flat. One night we were trying our luck looking for girls, with limited success. He’d gone outside for a smoke while I minded our drinks. He must have been gone 20 minutes, and came back with a huge grin on his face. A girl had offered him a blow job for a cigarette, and to his surprise, she actually did it.

That was Pauline. She was into Sex and drinking, and she was into Dave. Or more accurately, he was into her almost every night. Multiple times. Whatever he was doing, she was keen. Sometimes, she’d be waiting on our doorstep, waiting for us to return from work. As Dave worked later than me, I’d let her in and offer her a coffee.

Sometimes we’d chat, others she’d let herself into his room to prepare for Dave. Frequently that preparation came with a low buzzing noise, that was a familiar sound with her about. When we chatted, she’d tease me about my lack of a girlfriend and joke about throwing me a pity hand job sometime when Dave wasn’t about.

I knew she was joking, but you could never be 100% with her. She seemed insatiable, and sometimes when the three of us were watching a movie and she got bored. She’d wander off and return in sexy underwear and inquire if Dave wanted to do something more interesting. Quite happy to parade around in front of me like that.

I knew she got a kick out of it and would sit on his lap and push her boobs into his face. She was attractive with shoulder-length brown hair, great tits, but a tiny bit overweight. On one occasion, when Dave was watching the football, and he was too slow to respond to her. She upped her game by slipping the bra straps off her shoulders, leaving her tits almost entirely on display.

Dave objected and pointed out I was only feet away. She looked at me in a slutty way and said that she didn’t mind if I saw her tits. It would give me something to think about as I wanked later. Dave dragged her to his room and the sound of Sex was louder than usual. But she was right. I did think about her tits as I wanked later.

They dated for just over a year, but I saw the writing on the wall before she did. Dave started to duck her visits. On one night, she turned up when he was out and asked if she could hang out with me. Her flatmate had her boyfriend over and she hated the sounds of them fucking. Which I thought was payback for all the times I’d suffered it.

We were friendly enough as we got drunk. She told me a load of personal stuff about her and the relationship with Dave. She told me she was beginning to think he was cheating on her, and I shrugged. But I felt bad, as I knew he was. She looked sad, and I wanted to comfort her. But I knew if I did, she’d either think I was making a pass at her or worse. We’d end up fucking, and I didn’t want to fuck my flatmate’s girlfriend. Even if she was going to be an ex shortly.

They broke up days later, and I was introduced to Julia, Dave’s new girl. God, she was a pain in the arse. Posh and snooty. Hated to have to share Dave with me and she was quickly dropping hints about them getting a flat together. But Dave had rose-tinted glasses with infatuation with her. I could see it coming, so Dave and I sat down and agreed to go our separate ways.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I really must be the last apple in the barrel for her to contact me. I wondered how she got my number.

I waited at the station for Pauline to emerge, checking each of the women walking out. I saw a skinny blonde with curly hair walking towards me, but I dismissed her until she called out my name. It was Pauline. She’d shed the puppy fat and looked amazing. The curly short blonde hair really changed her look.

“Wow, you look amazing.”

“So do you. Workout much?” She said, poking my stomach.

“I never would have recognised you. Come on, let me carry your bag and show you the car.”

“Does the Indian takeaway still exist around the corner?” She asked as drove through town.

“Yeah, but it’s changed hands 3 times. And I don’t live anywhere near there. Remember Cooper town.”

“That area of old factory worker’s houses?”

“I heard they tore them down?”

“They did, but rebuilt modern versions for first-time buyers and retirees. I got a place there. But I did tell you my place is small.”

I parked the car, took her bag, and opened my front door. You step directly from the street into the living room with an open staircase against one wall. The whole house was only 15 feet wide and the only other room downstairs was the kitchen. Upstairs above the kitchen was the bathroom, then at the front of the house was my bedroom. Leaving just enough storage space on the landing between the two.

“Cosy.” She said,

“Tiny, but it’s enough for me and I own it rather than renting.”

We got a take out and chatted. It turned out she’d got my number from my mum. A few times Dave and Pauline had come to my parent’s frequent BBQ parties and Pauline had remembered the address. It turned out she’d been married, but it hadn’t worked out. I told her about Dave and her replacement. They had married, and he was miserable for 5 years before running out.

Pauline asked about my Love life and I admitted it was patchy at best. But I tried to move the conversation on to the wedding and she said her entire family was descending on the town. Her mum had Pauline’s cousins even sleeping on the floors. The only way she could stay there would be to sleep on the living room floor with her two teenage cousins on the sofas. Which would be awkward when she changed.

“I seemed to remember you quite liked showing off?”

“That was ages ago, and besides my cousins. Ew! Can I ask you something a bit personal? Do you remember that night just before Dave and I split? We got drunk and talked for hours?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just something stuck with me from that night. I got the impression you wanted to kiss me?”

I blew out a long breath. “Yes, and no. I knew Dave was seeing another girl, and I tried to get him to tell you. But he kept putting it off. I felt bad for you and wanted to reach out to comfort you. But I wondered you’d freak out or…”

“Or we’d end up fucking? I’ll admit I wondered about that a few times. One time we were doing it doggy style in the living room and I imagined it was you.”

“I know.”

“How do you mean, you know?”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant that I caught you two a couple of times naked and fucking in front of the telly, watching Porn. It’s just you two were so caught up fucking you never heard me.”

“Did you stay to watch?” She asked cheekily.

“Of course not.” Which was true, but I’d seen enough of her bouncing breasts as Dave pounded her from behind. “How about you tell me your plans?”

She told me she had the hen party on Thursday, rehearsal Friday, and the wedding was on Saturday. So she’d be out of my hair sometime on Sunday.

When I left for work on Thursday, Pauline was still curled up asleep on my small sofa. I left her my spare keys and tried not to wake her. When I got home, she was in the bathroom getting ready for the hen party, and I waited as long as I could.

“Pauline, I really need to use the toilet. Can I get in there for a minute?”

The door opened to reveal Pauline in a pale green bra and panty set and nothing else. Except for curling tongues in her hair.

“What? You’ve seen me in less.”

“Yeah, but I gotta piss.”

“Who’s stopping you? Do it. I just can not leave the room with this in my hair.”

I stepped to the loo and lifted the seat, glanced at her. She grinned at me in the mirror. I unzipped and pulled my dick out, but then couldn’t go.

“What’s up? Bashful bladder, or worried I’ll sneak a peek.”

“Something like that.” Then my bursting bladder overcame its nerves, and it started to flow.

Taking careful aim, I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. The simple pleasure of relieving myself.

“Sounds like I’m in the bathroom with a pissing racehorse.”

“You’re only jealous.”

“Not bad.” She replied, and I jumped and looked at her.

She was standing at my shoulder, looking down at my dick in my hand.

“I at all times thought what it looked like.”

“Hey!” I objected and managed to splash the top of the bowl as I finished.

Pauline reached past me and tore off a few sheets of toilet paper.

“Here, to dry off with.”

“Guys don’t do that.” I replied, giving my dick a shake and putting it away as quickly as possible.

She shrugged and bent over to wipe up my splash, then flushed the paper away.

“Done? Can I finish getting ready for the hen night?” She asked.

“Of course.” I replied, and closed the door behind me. “Just for the record. You look better now than you did 10 years ago.”

“Thanks, but wait until you see me in my glad rags and full war paint.”

When she came downstairs, she looked amazing. Like she’d stepped out a glossy magazine. Short dress, that showed off a lot of cleavage, and had tiny sparkling gems sown in. She blew me a kiss as a taxi with other women picked her up.

I had a quiet evening and went to bed early. But around 1 am my phone rang. I swore and let it ring, but it didn’t stop. Then I wondered if it was mum or dad and something had happened. So I got out of bed to check it. Unknown number. I nearly cancelled the call, but answered it tersely.

“Hello.”

“Mark, It’s Pauline.” She was really drunk.

“What?”

“I need you to come and pick me up. I can not remember your address for a taxi. I’m at Pattersons.” She hung up.

Fuck! Patterson’s was a night club about 10 minutes drive away and in a rough part of town. Not a good place for a single woman this late and that drunk. I slipped on jeans and shoes. Not bothering with underwear or socks. Then swore to myself for forgetting my laundry was at my mums.

It’s a bit cheeky, but a few months back my washer broke and I couldn’t afford to replace it right away. So I asked mum if I could use her machine. Naturally, being mum, she not only let me, but did both my washing and the ironing. A job I hate, and I’d been accidentally on purpose delaying replacing my machine. Only problem was I was out of clothes.

I ran down the stairs and slipped on a leather jacket and zipped it up. It felt kinda nice on the skin, and I rushed off to find Pauline. I found her just in time. She was outside the club with a few guys milling around, looking like they were waiting for her to walk away and jump her. She saw my car and came rushing towards me. Only to trip and fall onto her hands and knees.

I helped her up, and she was crying in pain. Her hands were scuffed and so were her knees. The left one looked the worst and was bleeding. I brushed any gravel from it and helped her into the car. At home, I closed the toilet lid and had her sit on it as I found disinfectant and a tube of arnica.

Her hands weren’t bad, but I disinfected them anyway, then knelt to inspect her knees.

“What am I gonna say about my bloody knees? My dress will show them off.”

“Don’t worry, you can just say that its carpet burn. I’m sure your cousins will believe you.”

“Not funny. Ow!” she gasped as I cleaned her left knee.

“It’s not that bad, actually.”

She leant forward to look, and I was greeted with a massive cleavage shot. Right down her dress and halfway inside her green bra. I could see her areola, but not her nipples.

“I can not see like that.” She lifted her foot up to rest on the toilet seat.

In the process, it pushed her dress all the way up.

“I’m pretty sure you left wearing panties.” I said more calmly than I felt. Staring at her naked and shaved Pussy.

“Yeah, but it was part of the hen night. Each girl had to discover a guy to take her panties off for them. Right in the middle of the club.”

“Whoa, that’s wild.”

“Yeah, I felt sorry for Carrie as she was in trousers and worse for Stella. She was in a jumpsuit with no bra. She was fully nude. I wondered we’d get kicked out.”

I noticed Pauline had done nothing to cover up. If anything, she’d moved her legs wider apart.

“What’s up? I wondered you said you saw me and Dave naked and fucking.”

“I did, but he was kind of covering that area up. And I wasn’t expecting to see yours from this close. Here is some arnica. Don’t get it in the cuts. I’m off to bed.”

I had a bit of a chub as I undressed and crawled back into bed. The image of Pauline’s Pussy only two feet from my face was burning in my mind. If it wasn’t so late, I might have had a wank. Luckily I didn’t, as ten minutes later there was a knock on my door.

“Mark, I really can not sleep on that tiny sofa. Can I sleep in here? I promise you’ll hardly know I’m there.”

In typical Pauline style, she didn’t wait for my reply, but slipped into my bed. She was wearing a long t-shirt that came down to her mid thighs, and presumably panties. While I was naked. Ten minutes later, with her snoring filling the air, I slipped out of bed and put some underwear on.

I woke at my usual time of 6:30 and found myself spooning against Pauline. Not an unpleasant sensation, but I realised something was wrong. I felt her bare back against my chest and my morning wood had escaped my boxers and was nestled between her buttocks. Which meant she wasn’t wearing panties.

OK, I fantasised about sleeping with her ten years ago, but taking advantage of her now seemed wrong. Like I was charging her to stay by fucking her. So I pulled back and slipped from the bed. Standing next to the bed, I looked down at her and tried to remember the sight. Her blonde hair was messed up, and she still had her makeup on, even if it was a little smeared. The duvet was low on her chest and if I went around her side of the bed, I was sure I’d see her breasts in their entirety.

But if I did that, the temptation of her open mouth would be too much for my achingly hard dick.

Instead, I tucked it away and slipped into a dressing gown. Used the bathroom and got coffee and OJ. Then I grabbed some pain killers and went back up to check on Pauline. She woke up as I entered the room and looked around, confused.

“You insisted on sleeping here instead of on the sofa.” I explained and handed her the OJ.

“Ow, my fucking head is killing me!”

“That’s why I brought you these.” I rattled the pills in the bottle.

“You know I never take them.” She downed the OJ in a single gulp. “What I really need is The Cure.”

I frowned, then remembered what she meant. Back in the day, both Dave and she drank a lot. And while Dave and I were happy to pop a pill to get rid of our hangover. Pauline had her own method that she called The Cure. Basically, the human body had its own methods for dealing with pain and she believed she could beat a hangover with a good Orgasm.

Some people refer to this as the Horny hangover. Sex, provided it was not too vigorous, fixed most of the hangover without man-made chemicals.

“You mean The Cure, as in Orgasm? OK, but try not to make a mess of my bedding. It would be too hard to explain to my mum.” She frowned. “Never mind. I’ll leave you to it.”

“You know that never works for me?” She replied.

The night she’d confided too much about herself to me, she’d admitted she’d never got off with her own fingers.

“Really, still?”

“I’ve never had to worry about it. I’ve at all times had a boyfriend or a toy. I’ve neither with me now. So you’re going to have to do it.”

“Me?”

“Come off it Mark. I’m sure you know how.”

“Of course but…”

“But what? Are you seriously telling me you never wondered about the chance to finger me at least?”

“But that was ten years ago.”

“Didn’t you say I look better now than then? Please! 10 minutes of your time. 5 maybe, if you’re good.”

I thought about it and then sat on the edge of the bed and reached under the covers to touch her leg.

“Oh for god’s sake. If you’re going to do it, do it properly.” She flung the covers aside to show her nude body. “You saw my cunt last night, and you’ve seen my tits before. Get over it and get on with it. If I don’t cum in the next 10 minutes, I’m going to puke. So please help me and don’t jostle me around.”

She threw her legs and arms wide and closed her eyes.

You don’t get an invitation more clearly than that. So I moved closer and caressed her breasts. She opened an eye to look at me.

“What? I wondered I’d begin here, then work down.”

“You can, but I’m already wet in anticipation. I promise you can play with my titties when my head isn’t trying to kill me.”

I moved my hand between her legs and felt the damp heat emanating from her. She jumped as my finger touched her, then settled down. Her Pussy was very wet, and my fingers slipped between her labia and found her opening.

“Are you a clitoral stimulation only girl, or do you need something inside you as well?”

“Definitely the latter. Hurry up.”

I worked one, then two fingers inside her, then moved to kneel between her legs. Giving me the option of using my other hand on her clit. Pauline grabs her tits and moans.

“More.”

“More what, fingers?”

“No, more stimulation. Lick me, please.”

I hardly had to think about that. I flopped onto my stomach and brought my mouth into play, while my fingers still probed her opening.

Pauline started moaning more and was quite rough on her own nipples. Pulling them alarmingly. But I needed to stay focused. Her hips were moving, and I knew she was getting close. I pressed my lips about her clit and hood, then sucked it into my mouth and flicked my tongue against it as quickly as I could.

Pauline cried out and climaxed hard. Pulling my hand Free, I saw it was soaked. I knew mum would certainly ask me questions about who my new lover was. She opened one eye and grimaced.

“Give it a minute to kick in.” She said, and I stood. Looking for my clothes for work.

But in doing so, my dressing gown opened enough for my erection to escape.