Hanky Panky

By Simon Morris

Explore the depths of desire and connection in this compelling collection of frank and intimate short stories. From the raw and passionate to the tender and sensual, these tales delve into the complexities of human relationships and the many facets of love. Dive into a world of emotions with "HANKY PANKY: A Collection of Frank, Intimate Short St

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Morris
• Release date: Nov 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781805413837

Book preview

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Hanky Panky

Hanky Panky

A Collection of Frank, Intimate Short Stories

Simon Morris

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by Simon Morris

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

First paperback edition

978-1-80541-382-0 (paperback)

978-1-80541-383-7 (eBook)

Contents

Emma’s Trip

Dèjá Vu

Conversation in Bed 1

Leather Tongue

Chimlin

Conversation in Bed 2

Ugly Beautiful

It Did Go to Plan and It Didn't Go to Plan

Conversation in Bed 3

Robin

Nowhere To Go

Conversation in Bed 4

Emma's Return

Emma’s Trip

I’m sat at a table in a coffee bar at Glasgow Central, with my suitcase at my feet, enjoying the hustle and bustle of a busy railway station. You get it in airports as well. I love this kind of atmosphere. Watching people hugging, running, kissing, shaking hands, patting on the back. I always feel as if it’s happening to me. It creates all sorts of expressions on my face, mainly of a joyful kind.

I’m on my own. I’m always on my own. That’s how I want it to be. I always holiday by myself, even when I’m abroad. Being very sociable, I can talk to anyone, so I can pick and choose when I want company and when I do not. You could say it’s a bit selfish, or even odd, but that’s how I like it. I generally go with the same plan. Book a room for the first couple of days and see what happens. Sometimes it does. For example, three years ago in Turkey, this guy grabbed my case from the carousel for me as I was frantically chasing it. It turned out he was returning home to see his parents. I ended up spending the entire holiday with him. Sightseeing and shagging. Another time, in Cyprus, all I did was read and work on my tan. Unfortunately, about halfway through the holiday, whilst sunbathing, I fell asleep. When the sun passed the umbrella I was under, I ended up getting burnt, so from then on, it was read only. And when I was in the Lake District, I was booked into a hotel where the barmaid fell ill, which left them in the big shit. So, I ended up working there for a week. Now, that was a cheap holiday.

You see, you can do all this if you’re on your tod. The only rule I have, with no exceptions whatsoever, is that I never, never keep in touch!

By the way, I’m sorry to be rude. I can get carried away when talking about myself. It’s Emma and I’m twenty-eight years old, and I need a pee. Whenever I have my case in tow, it’s always a bit of a nuisance, this.

Sat opposite, at the next table, was a guy buried deep in his mag. He was probably in his early sixties and had a cold expression on his face. The please don’t bother me look. I took a chance.

I’m really sorry to interrupt you, but er… He put me off when he raised his head. The apology hadn’t appeared to work. Er… um, you seem to have an honest face. Would you mind keeping an eye on my case while I pop to the loo? I’m on my own, you see.

He fiddled with his glasses and rubbed his moustache. He looked at me as if I was some sort of mirage. Silence.

It’s okay, I’ll ask… I trailed off.

No, it’s fine, he said, followed by a weak smile. I’ll keep an eye… Go on.

I nodded, half smiling, back. Thanks, I’ll be as quick as I can. He sort of waved a hand.

When I returned, I thought I’d lost my bearings. My table was now occupied, and there was no case.

In panic, I looked sideways at his and blew my cheeks in relief. He had just moved it across

Thanks. I’ll just go over and retrieve my coffee. It had gone. I came back to find his hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes, head lowered. It’s fine. There was only a bit left.

I’m really sorry… I didn’t think. Let me get you a replacement. What was it?

No, it’s fine. Honest. I don’t want another one, anyway. I’ll just… But he cut me short.

Please, I insist. He realised he was shouting. I jumped. Sorry, sorry. He lowered his voice. I insist, please. It’s the least I can do.

People were looking, so I thought it was best to sit down. Really, it’s not necessary but very much appreciated. I’ll have a white coffee, no sugar, and thank you.

He got up. Whilst he was away, more for something to do, I glanced down at his magazine. Pictures of trains. That explained a lot, I guess.

When he returned, he was carrying two and we settled into our seats. After an uneasy silence, I nodded at his mag. Trainspotter? I enquired.

Oh no, steam. Hobby of mine. It’s Colin, by the way.

Emma. I put my hand out, smiled and shrugged. We shook.

It transpired Colin was Scottish but wasn’t really. He was born in Scotland, but his parents had moved to Harrogate when he was one. He had remained there, in the same house, minus the parents who had died, but had recently bought a one-bedroom flat in Glasgow as a second home. Eventually, he said, he had sold up and moved here permanently. He loved Glasgow. He loved Scotland. God, one house in sixty-odd years. He had just retired, sixty-three he was, and had been an accountant. Worked for the same company all his life. He’d actually gone back twice to help out. This was third time lucky. God, one job in forty years.

I did my bit. I live in Leeds, have my own flat and I’m a beautician. I always holiday alone. He was staggered at that. You’re very brave, he said. Never heard of girls doing it. I burst out laughing, but he seemed genuinely concerned. Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I subconsciously put my hand on his and blushed a bit when I realised. He acted as if he’d been tasered.

He talked to the table. Not once did he look up at me. Look. I know your hotel. I pass it on the way back to my flat, actually. I’d be happy to take you there. It’s only ten, fifteen minutes at the most.

That would be lovely, thanks. I’ve got a crap, sorry, I mean rubbish sense of direction… Ready whenever you’re ready.

So, I took a last gulp of my coffee, converted my case to wheel mode, and off we went. It took just less than ten in the end.

I turned to him. Well, it was very nice to meet you. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, and um, thanks for – you know. I wasn’t certain how that sounded, but one thing for sure, it didn’t sound final.

The pleasure’s all mine. I enjoyed talking to you as well. Look, um, I was just wondering… he dropped his eyes, if you haven’t made any plans for tomorrow, I’d be glad to give you a guided tour of the city. If you’ve time, there are a couple of cracking art galleries to visit as well.

Well, this time, he asked my feet. At least it was a step in the right direction (excuse the pun).

It seemed to make sense to me, and anyway, I was in no mood to hurt his feelings. That was a huge effort on his part. I evidently took too long to answer, as he tried to regain his dignity.

Well, I understand. I remember you saying you plan the first… I interrupted him. No, no, sorry, I was just thinking, that’s all… I’d love to… It would be great having someone who knows what they’re doing. But on one condition, I said, firmly. Dinner’s on me.

I think he’d had enough for one day. He agreed and thanked me and nodded. Nine o’clock okay? I’ll come to you.

Bloody hell. Goodbye lie-in.

See you then, then. A little hesitancy between us. I shrugged and put my hand out. We shook, and I shrugged again. I leant and kissed him on one cheek, adding another smile. Bye…

He went a little red and toddled off.

In the morning, Colin turned up in Reception at nine o’clock sharp, which wasn’t the biggest surprise in the world. He was wearing exactly the same clothes as yesterday. It was a beautiful day, above average for May, and made walking around much more pleasant. Colin was quite formal in his tour. I think he felt more comfortable in this role. I could see him as a guide, explaining this and that, full of facts and dates. There is certainly a lot to do in Glasgow.

Taking a bus, we went to the waterfront, calling in at the Riverside Museum. We spent half the day in there. It’s essentially a transport museum. I’d thought I’d be bored stiff, but I found myself being swept away by his passion and knowledge. On a couple of occasions when he wasn’t looking, I studied him. He had the innocence of a child. He lived in a bubble. Can you fall for someone with no sex attached? I shuddered and shook the thought out of my head.

The plan was to go back, get changed, and do the food bit. But in the event, we couldn’t be bothered. We ended up going to a restaurant at the Waterfront. Very nice, too. I thought this might be when we would have those awkward pauses when neither of us could think of anything to say. There were a few, but they weren’t awkward. It was the contrary. It was relaxing and normal. I think it was because there was nothing at stake.

We took a taxi back to the hotel. We both got out and fought over the fare. I gave in. I didn’t want him shouting at me again in public. To avoid the stand-off at the end, I had suggested that we meet in the evening. It had dawned on me in the ride that I hadn’t been in a single shop or even looked through a window, for that matter. A girl needs to do what a girl needs to do! So, not wanting to drag him around (and he wholeheartedly agreed), it was best I went solo. He then suggested that I could come to his flat. Firstly, he could do with a bit of advice on the décor, etc., as he wanted to do it up and he also had some interesting stuff to show me. We could get a takeaway to eat. Was seven okay? Would that give me enough time? I wasn’t sure whether that was a joke or not. All this was delivered with a bit more confidence. After all, this time, we were sat side by side.

The following day, after a long hard slog (shopping), I had a recovery soak in the bath. I then sat at the dressing table, ready to apply my makeup. I looked at me in the mirror. English rose face, I’m told, mousey curly hair, shoulder length, light blue eyes, small ears. I picked up a lipstick. No. Then that one. I screwed up my face. Another no. I put that down and picked up the first… What the hell am I doing?… It’s not a date, for God’s sake. Just slap some stuff on… I did, not caring. I looked at the result… It took my breath away. Even he might notice.

We got a few stares when we passed through Reception. We walked to his flat but had to run the last bit as we were confronted with spitting rain, both of us being unprepared as it was still quite warm.

I was surprised. His flat was quite orderly and clean. I was expecting a mess. The only thing was the place had the look and feel of a study, books and mags in every room. There was too much wood. It just needed a bit of warmth, rugs, tablecloth, that kind of thing.

Even in the comfort of his own home, he was still quite formal, happiest when preaching his stuff.

He still found it difficult making eye contact, though, still shying away a bit when I looked at him. I’m used to being clocked. I wonder whether he’s neutered? (Was that a terrible thing to think?)

We ordered pizza. We watched a bit of telly. He did his bit of lecturing. I browsed through some of his books. I was having a very pleasant evening when suddenly, around ten-ish, there was a flash of light outside his window, followed by an ear-splitting rumble. I jumped out my skin.

My God, what the hell…? I put my hand on my heart.

Colin was laughing. It’s just a storm, he said as I raced to him for comfort. He stopped laughing as soon as he realised I looked genuinely frightened. We peeked through the curtains. There was a monsoon going on out there. I flinched and shielded my eyes as another light flashed and, holding his arm, braced myself for the inevitable din.

Ow… ow…

Sorry! I was squeezing his arm too much. When the thunderclap came, I had to hold all of him. I was petrified.

We all have our quirks and this is one of mine. When I was seventeen, it kicked off in the middle of the night. I ran straight into my parents’ room, followed by the dog. It seemed they were expecting us. Mum had already left me space, so I cuddled into her, and Dad held the shaking and whimpering cocker spaniel. As I willed it to go away, tears were rolling down my cheeks. Mum even had a tissue ready. You’d think I would’ve grown out of it by now, but I never have and probably never will.

Colin, who must have realised the situation was a bit more serious than he had first thought, didn’t quite know what to do next, particularly when he disentangled himself from me and saw my puffy face. Look, um, sit down, sit down. Er, I’ll get you a coffee. He led me to the sofa and grabbed a cushion. Squeeze that. He scuttled off to the kitchen. Another clap. A bit more distant, at least.

I checked the forecast on my phone. It was to carry on through the night and peter out in the morning. But tomorrow was still a write-off, with heavy rain continuing throughout the day.

If you think I’m going out in this lot, taxi or no taxi, and spending the night all on my own in a hotel room, you’ve got another think coming, I mulled. I said those very words when he returned with my drink. I waited. He just looked blankly at me. So I had to say it. This’ll do, I said, patting the sofa. Do you have a blanket or something? He still looked at me gone out. This must have been new ground for him. I was hoping he’d disappear out the room, but he beckoned me up, lifted the seat, and produced a duvet and two pillows. I gestured for a third. One to sleep on and two to bury my head in. Relieved, I grasped his shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. Then flinched. Another flash of light. I braced myself. At least I’d calmed down a bit. So had the storm, still a bit loud but not as.

You can take the bed if you want. I can sleep on the sofa. It was very flat-toned.

You’re fine. Thanks, anyway. This will do very nicely.

He then did leave the room but quickly came back, throwing a towel at me.

You go first. Just tap on my bedroom door when you’re done.

I quickly stripped down to my bra and panties and jumped under the duvet. I’d started to read the news on my phone when there was a tapping noise on the door.

Are you um…?

I smiled. Yes, I am.

He popped his head around the corner and then stepped into full view. He was wearing white pyjamas with purple stripes. He looked ridiculous.

Need anything?

No, I’m absolutely fine, and Colin, I’m really grateful… thanks. I smiled and made eye contact. This time he didn’t look away. Then he looked out the window.

Well, the storm seems to have calmed down, at least, but the rain’s still pelting down. It’s like a river down there. If you need anything, just knock. With that, he nodded and was gone.

Stretching back, I turned off the table light and snuggled down. I tucked myself in even deeper, and before long I was drifting, half awake, half asleep. I was in a slumber. This was so, so cosy.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was an almighty rumble. It was as if something had grabbed the flat and shaken it. Then a large bang. That was it, I was on auto pilot. I scrambled up and ran to Colin’s room, bursting through the door. I froze at the sight that greeted me. His duvet was rolled down to his knees, along with his pyjama bottoms. The look of horror on his face was indescribable. It rooted me to the ground. My heart went out to him, aching with sympathy. To be caught like this. His dignity.

Fixing my eyes on his, I walked steadily in. It’s okay, Colin; honest, it is. He still looked mortified as I reached the bed. I got onto it and lay beside him. He sort of shuffled a bit to the side, but he didn’t really have anywhere to go. I kept encouraging him. It’s fine, Colin, it’s fine…

I picked up where he left off. Despite everything, he was still stiff. I stroked him, evenly. Soon, he started to heave a little and throw his head back. I lost my grip a couple of times. His penis was quite small. I quickly had him on the verge, then I paused, unhooked my bra, and moved his hand over. He didn’t respond, but when I started on him again, gradually increasing speed, he, at last, lost his inhibitions and went berserk, thrashing about on the bed. I had to hold him down in the end as he frantically squeezed my breast. When he came, my God, what a turn-on that was, gushing out all over .

I didn’t waste any time. Jumping off the bed, I went to the bathroom to get a load of toilet paper. It was still pretty noisy out there, but not as. I was managing, though. Just wincing at each rumble. I stripped him and mopped him up. No objection on his part, for he was truly knackered, both physically and mentally, I suspect. After, I thought for a minute. Pondering, I took off my panties and got in. We looked across at each other nonplussed. I tried a shrug smile. No reaction. I edged towards him a little. He didn’t move. Suddenly, quite a long rumble. I winced and grasped the duvet. When I opened my eyes, he was there. We hugged each other. I’m fairly tall for a girl, so it took a bit of adjusting, but we got there.

This chuffing storm doesn’t know which direction to go next, I said.

Must be female.

Playful slap on the face. Ha bloody ha. I didn’t have you down as a sexist pig, Mr Colin whatever-your-name-is. You men, you’re all the same. That broke the ice. I began to relax. Suddenly, everything must have caught up with me because apparently, the next thing that came out my mouth was a snore.

It was in this position I woke up. Colin was still away with the fairies. My first thought was of him shooting off his load last night. I became moist. I decided to be his alarm clock. I moved my hand down and started on him. He didn’t disappoint. This time I aimed at me. I was covered in the stuff. Maybe, for him, it was catch-up time.

Morning, I said. I’m off for a wash.

In the shower, I masturbated. After all, I had everything I needed.

When I came out, wrapped up in a towel, he was sat up in bed reading a mag. He looked up. His expression said it all. What the hell have you been doing? Wouldn’t he like to know?

I peered through the curtains. It looks like a write-off today. You can’t go out in that, unless you’ve got a pair of flippers, that is. At least the storm’s gone, though.

Well, never mind. There are still a few bits I can show you, plus there’s the telly, I suppose.

I spread out my towel. Oh, I think we can do better than that. Now, that was corny!

Having a relationship with a much older man was a sort of a fantasy I had wondered about now and again, but it wasn’t really a must. It certainly had no room on what I call my Brad Pitt list. My concrete stuff includes the Pyramids (tick), Great Wall of China (next year), swimming with dolphins (when I’m older), swimming with Brad Pitt (anytime, anywhere)… that’s Brad Pitt (laugh)… those kinds of things. But here we are. No plan involved. It just happened.

Eventually, by the middle of the afternoon, we had found our sexual niche. Fucking didn’t do it for me. His penis was a bit too small, and I was forever having to guide him in. He always came super speed. I was on the pill, so it wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t pulled out in time, but the fact is, I’d hardly got going.

It was the good old reliable sixty-nine that did it for both of us. For me, he was really good at it. Sometimes the tongue fits. Also, I had more control, pausing at my end so it would last longer. I