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to phone the secretary. He put his arm back round my shoulders. "Very fine."
"Craig, careful," I stammered seeing clearly where this was headed.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a married woman," I replied rather ridiculously.
"I know that and so what?" He said as we reached the door, his arm still round my shoulders.
"I think you should remove your arm."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
We stopped by the door. We faced each other, his hand now on my shoulder, not round them.
"We have to phone Clive, you or me?" He asked.
"It doesn't matter," I stuttered as he reached across me for the phone on the wall. He didn't pick it up.
I turned, pressing my back against the wall. He stood in front of me, his arm was across me, his face very close. He moved closer. We were just inches apart. He reached down and gripped both of my wrists. I felt powerless to stop him. He pulled both of my arms upward and outwards. My back was pressed against the wall. He pulled my wrists until my arms were stretched from my body in a crucifixion position, which pushed my full boobs out.
"No," I groaned as he leaned forward.
"You sure you mean no?" he asked, his lips almost touching mine.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move or say anything. I was transfixed, scared, excited, worried, concerned and, yes I had to admit it, well I do now, I didn't then, interested and aroused. I didn't answer his question.
His mouth found mine. I pulled away.
"Stop it, please," I said, knowing full well I sounded totally unconvincing.
I didn't pull my body away, I didn't really struggle and I certainly didn't move away as his lips found mine again. This time he kissed me. I began to gain an understanding of the conflicts with rape; my body was saying yes, but my mind was screaming no! I didn't kiss him back, but then I didn't tear my mouth away. He was still holding my wrists with my arms pulled away out from my body and my back pressed against the wall. He pressed himself against me squashing my breasts and thrusting his erection against my stomach. His tongue was pressing against my closed lips, probing and enquiring. I had never been in such a situation. I felt my lips moving, they were parting, my mouth was opening. It was unconscious, involuntary and completely unplanned, but I was accepting his enquiry. His tongue surged into me finding my tongue and gums, pressing against them and licking all round my mouth. He let go of my wrists, one arm went round me downwards and the other landed on my breast. He squeezed and I moaned.
At last, somehow and I have no idea where the resolve came from, I regained my senses.
"No Craig, stop it this is ridiculous," I said sternly, pulling myself away from him.
"Ok, Amanda, I'm sorry," he said very contritely. "I didn't mean to push you like that, I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do."
We didn't say much more to each other that evening. I went home and showered and then found myself masturbating. You can guess what was in my mind as I stroked and rubbed and caressed my breasts and nipples and my lips and clit. And he was an exceedingly good mental fuck.
Perhaps the worst aspect of my evening was when Sara, my daughter, came home from a friend's house and asked if I'd had a good day!
We lost the next day. In fact we were well beaten by a pair against who we should have won easily. I would happily own up if it had been mainly my fault, but it wasn't. I played ok, Craig was well off form, doing many double faults, not getting his angles correct and missing several easy vollies.
In many ways I was pleased that we were travelling home separately for it meant we didn't have to confront the situation of last night. But we had to confront it again a few days later for once more we were the last two at the club.
As we left the court, I was hellishly nervous, even though Craig didn't put his arm round my shoulders. It was quite a lot cooler that evening than it had been the last time we practised so we were both wearing track suits over our tennis clothes. I had, though removed the tracky bottoms, but had kept the zip up top on. This time I was wearing a big, sports bra.
"I guess you don't fancy a drink do you?" He asked as we got near to the small bar.
"Probably best not to," I replied as we passed the closed and locked door and got to the back door of the club, right where we had kissed a few days ago. I stopped in roughly the same position and for some unexplainable reason I turned so my back was almost against the wall. He faced me.
"I really am sorry for the other night Amanda."
I smiled. "It's ok?"
