‘Eddy’ is a character in my book. And to write about him – without the risk of being sued or embarrassing him – I had to change some aspects, fine tune one or two details. I couldn’t really describe too accurately the sexy way in which Eddy walks. I used to love to sit at the window and wait until it was time for him to arrive. From my fifth-floor flat, I could discreetly luxuriate in the sway of his hips, the length of his stride and the confident tilt of his head as he glanced from side to side to cross the road. Eddy strode to his own private rhythm; it might have been Prince with ‘Scandalous’ or Marvin with ‘Let’s Get it On’, but something in his walk communicated pure A-grade testosterone and made my heart skip happily. Something in the air around him made me smile all over just at the sight of this fine, fine man. And at the time, Eddy was still on the way to becoming just a very good friend.

I couldn’t describe in my books quite how deeply those dark brown eyes sang to me, or the deep bass notes of his voice reverberating somewhere beyond and beneath my comprehension. I only knew that it was good to listen to him as, so often, he made me laugh. And still, he was just a friend.

I didn’t dare write about the quirky tilt of his head, the slight tensing of his shoulders as he listened. I eventually teased him about it because he just couldn’t help himself and didn’t know when he was doing it, but it was as if he concentrated so hard that his whole body had to pay attention, as if every receptor had to open up to take in what you offered. Eddy was my good, good friend and I couldn’t tell you everything because there were too many others involved who might have recognised him.

You know, I’ve understood for a little while now that Eddy is kind of special. But still, I didn’t anticipate the reaction to him when I wrote Body and Soul. For those of you who haven’ read it, Eddy is a central character and I won’t give away how he fits into our heroine’s story. I was totally amazed by the number of letters and email to Brown Skin Books asking about Eddy (and wanting his phone number!). But many women suggested that Eddy was just too good to be true. The fact is that no, he was just too good for me at the time.

So, I’ve been bowled over by the interest in Eddy, but even more stunned by what has happened since I plucked up the courage the contact the real-life Eddy and give him a copy of my novel to read.

I don’t yet know if I have the courage to reveal absolutely everything about Eddy because so much depends on other people and what happens over the next few weeks and months – and the consequences for other people - but I know that I’d like to. I bow down to Faith Graham – author of Playthings. She could easily have written the novel without telling the whole world that it was based on an incident in her own life. But I guess she was writing with more honesty and bravery than I was. I kind of envy that. So I’ll try.

The story of Eddy and me is more complicated than I made it seem in Body and Soul. To understand what happened between us – and how things stand now – I have to go back to make you understand what made me react to Eddy in the way I did, the kind of tangles that I got involved in and the potential disaster that I’ve caused. We need to go back to long before Eddy became a potential hero in my novel.

I suspect that what attracts most readers to Eddy is that he understands the script. It’s not nuclear physics, but a lot of guys seem to find it hard to learn. And even though my relationship with Eddy isn’t based purely on sex, I have to tell you about my first time and one key lesson for you guys: Timing is key!

Until next time.

My first time. I was just over seventeen, younger than some, older than many, but certainly not wise enough to know better.

I met him when I got my first holiday job, my parents finally approving, impressed that I had been sensible enough to plan for a gap year and to start saving.

My upbringing had been more than sheltered, shackled by dire Caribbean warnings about the consequences of unwed sexual activity – consequences that both thrilled and appalled me. And so it was almost inevitable that I’d succumb to the attractions of the very first guy who made a beeline for me and made it clear enough for even naïve me to understand that he wanted me. Or, rather, my body.

We all bundled into the local pub that first evening for the ritual after-work drinks. As I sipped warm cola, my new-found friend, Amanda, whispered less than discreetly, ‘Ollie’s really got the hots for you.’

‘How do you know?’ I felt the heat rising to my cheeks.

‘Shit, Jade. You really are dumb, aren’t you? In those tight pants, he can’t hide it. Poor guy! He’s been like that all day – very time you’re around.’ And everyone’s stare focused on us as her peal of laughter rang out.

I sneaked a glance at Ollie and felt my cheeks burning even hotter.

‘You interested?’ Amanda asked. ‘Let me know if you’re not because I’m seeing him in a different light. I know they say size doesn’t matter, but…’

I couldn’t look at Ollie after that and kept my eyes lowered and averted when he offered to walk with me to the bus stop. The glance of his fingers on my bare forearm as we walked along the High Street raised unexpected goose bumps as if the summer evening had suddenly turned chill.

The next few weeks became a blur of constant sexual tension and confusion for me. I was completely fascinated by those deep blue eyes that often lingered on the swell of my breasts. The brush of silky blond hair as he bent to whisper into my ear, tongue flicking against the lobe. We’d sneak into dim alcoves for stolen, furtive embraces, momentary caresses, hurried fumblings. Ollie seemed to me so much older and wiser, though there were only eight years in it. I think I was in awe of the way he played me so expertly, kept me on heat. A flutter of hot tongue against my bare back as we queued for lunch, his steel erection pressed against my buttocks so fleetingly that I might have conjured it. The accidental brush of fingertips against my breast as he turned away from a customer, provoking a sharp intake of breath and the sudden sharp undisguisable swell of my nipples.

And then the next day… nothing. Of course, he’d be friendly, maybe suggesting a picnic lunch in the local park, but he’d keep his distance as we strolled, her bare flesh enticingly close to mine, across the grass, chatting amiably about shop gossip or world news while I longed for his touch but was too tongue-tied to ask.

A few days later, just as I would be about to despair, he’d grab my hand as we passed in the corridor and pull me into an empty office, slipping his fingers beneath my shirt, squeezing my breasts until I’d groan. Then he’d surround my nipples with warm, soft lips, sucking gently until I leaned against him, faint with pent-up desire. And then we’d have to separate, frantically rearranging clothing at the sound of voices outside. I’d feel deep physical loss in the pit of my stomach.

This groping towards my first sexual experience had nothing to do with love or even friendship. I can’t tell you know whether I actually liked Ollie. This was more about rebellion, freedom, growing, needing to understand the secret and – after several weeks of this constant, nerve-tingling expectation – about raw, open, blatant lust. I needed him and Ollie knew exactly what he was doing.

I don’t know if he planned the moment. I don’t think so. We were working late, stocktaking and updating excel files. When I finally logged off and looked up, trying to ease the tension from the tight muscles of my neck, I finally noticed that we were the only ones left in the office. Lights in the corridor were off – whoever had been the last to leave must have forgotten about us. As I gathered my things together and made for the door, Ollie got there first and closed it.

The soft smile on his lips set a pulse racing between my legs. Ollie opened my jacket and planted a trail of hot wet kisses across the swell of my breasts and before I could even react, his arms had encircled my waist and he was lifting me, twirling around as he laughed softly and set me down on the desk, standing close and wrapping my legs around his hips.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ he whispered, nipping the lobe of my ear with sharp teeth.

‘What?’

‘A nice surprise. Just wait.’

‘Tell me now.’

‘Patience.’

His thumbs were kneading the soft inside of my thighs in tiny circles, easing them apart in infinitesimally small movements and he kissed me, tongue swirling hungrily against mine.

And almost before I could react, he lowered his head between my legs, ripped apart my knickers and began to plant kisses along the bare flesh just above my pussy hair as his fingers teased through the wiry forest. No one had ever, ever done this before and the intensity of sensation was unreal. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, drawing the tang of salty blood as his bot breath flamed across my clit and his sharp tongue briefly seared the tip. I screamed loud, the feels more than I thought I could bear.

‘Ollie. Stop. Please. I can't bear it. Pleeeease stop.’

He didn’t. Wet heat pulsated deep in the centre of my being as he licked back and forth, back and forth, round and round, making tiny figures of eight as I felt myself drowning in a pool of hot, sweet, molten syrup as he eased his tongue further down, lower, lower…

We both suddenly froze at the clip of heels outside the door. Then Ollie was grabbing my hand, clutching clothes, bags and hurrying me into the darkened store cupboard. ‘Shhhh!’ He held me tight, hand across my mouth, silencing my breathing as we heard the door open. The cupboard door was open a fraction and we watched in sheer horror as our boss sat at his desk and booted up the computer. There was no escape. What the hell were we going to do?




Jade Williams
Author of Body and Soul

I was petrified. Almost literally. Frozen with fear, I imagined being locked in and trying to explain to my parents the next day where I’d been all night. Or, worse still, being found in this incriminating and embarrassing situation… I was so scared that I could hardly breathe and began to feel light-headed with shock and panic.

With one hand, Ollie was rhythmically stroking my arm as if trying to calm a hysterical toddler and gradually succeeding as the ritual motion had its effect. I could once again breathe more or less normally. What the hell were we going to do? No telling how long the boss would stay there at his desk while we were squeezed into this tiny space, hardly able to move without knocking something over, just listening to the rapid rat-a-tat of fingers skimming across a keyboard.

After a few more seconds of this, I began to lose sensation in my legs and I leaned back against Ollie in case I fell and revealed our whereabouts. He circled my waist with strong arms and before long began a slow, oh-so-measured caress of the underside of my breasts, thumbs lightly circling round and round, edging closer to nipples that were soon standing rigid despite—or enhanced by—my fear. I hadn’t noticed when he’d angled his hips so that my buttocks nestled into his pelvis, but as he slowly, slowly eased my skirt upwards over the roundness of my hips, I could sense the quick stirring of his penis beneath the rough fabric of his trousers. I turned my head towards him in half remonstration and he covered my lips with his, stifling any sound. In the confined space, we could barely move and in the dim light, I could hardly see, but when I pulled away from him, clenching my teeth to prevent a gasp, a strip of light from the door opening illuminated the sharp bones of his elegant fingers as he clasped my naked thigh, drawing me back against him while his other palm flattened against the tingling flesh of my stomach and then edged down in tiny graduations, through the tangle of dark public hair, his little finger hovering so tantalisingly close to the swollen ridge of my clitoris. All this in slow, slow, slow motion as our boss, unaware, clattered away at the keyboard.

And then a discordant screech as the phone shrilled and he pushed his chair back to answer it.

‘Oh, good evening. Yes, still here. No, no. Not at all.’

A lengthy silence as he listened intently and Ollie took the opportunity to slowly, notch by notch, inch down his zip, while his fingers fluttered rapidly, like the wings of a pollinating butterfly, against the over-sensitive peak of my clit. I wanted to cry out, but didn’t dare.

‘Sure. I understand, but this puts me in an impossible position.’

I couldn’t have put it better myself! Ollie had managed to release his penis from its confines and the hard-but-soft head nudged and teased its way up past my opening, slick with my juices, to the underside of my clit and gently made its way back again. Never before had I felt a hard cock against my flesh and the sensation was overwhelming, making me short of breath, heady with oxygen deprivation. This was so, so unreal.

‘Redundancy is always difficult.’ He must have been talking to the über-boss. ‘Creates uncertainty and unrest in the rest of the staff.’

Ollie lifted my buttocks and the head of his cock rested against the molten, pulsating, welcoming flutter at the entry to my pussy. All it would take was one, tiny motion from me and this would be the moment I’d dreamed of for so long. Ollie was tempting me, his dick asking a question as it gently circled round and round.

‘But, that’s a quarter of the workforce. That’s impossible.’

I was getting wetter and wetter, feeling the moisture oozing from inside me and the musky scent of sex rising with the heat. I arched my back and remained motionless for a brief moment—untutored, but knowing instinctively what I had to do. I reached behind me and circled his organ, steadied it and aimed for the precise spot. We both remained frozen for a tiny, ominous fraction of a second.

‘No. I understand that it’s not actually impossible… But… but…’

Ollie held me there, prolonging that ecstatic moment of no return, that gap between knowing and unknowing and before I had a chance to think any further, he cruelly thrust, plunging his cock deep, as far as he could reach, while covering my mouth with his hand and rocking back and forth before pulling out silently and then thrusting once more, hard, as if punishing me. And the sharp, intense, unbearable pain gave way to the sweetest pleasure as he slowed the rhythm and allowed the cream, the golden honey, the syrup to flow, stirring, bubbling, moulding, effervescing, threatening to boil over.

‘Yes. I guess you’re right. I’ll have to decide who will go. It won’t be easy... Yes, within the next ten days.’ We heard the click as he replaced the receiver.

Ollie’s thrusts eased as the office became silent. Softly, softly, inching deeper inside and then retreating millimetre by millimetre. Exploring the shallows, keeping me on the brink. The scrape of a chair pushed back and Ollie began to pull away. Involuntarily my muscles clenched tight and I held him just there. He stopped all movement. A deep, scary fluttering began, building, building, building…

The computer hum stopped suddenly and we heard footsteps, and there was sudden darkness as a switch was flicked. The boss had gone. We had to leave while we had the chance. Right now.

Ollie pulled out fast. We rearranged our clothing, got our stuff together and ran for the door, avoided the lift and dashed down the stairs and past security, out of the building. We collapsed with hysterical laughter and then Ollie walked with me to the bus stop. I could hardly look at him. What had we just done? As my bus slowed to a stop, he kissed me tenderly, exploring. That’s when my feelings began to edge towards love.

The next few weeks were a blur of emotion. Tears were shed as friends and colleagues lost their jobs but at the same time, I selfishly smiled inside at the thought of the next time that Ollie and I could be together, his cock pounding inside me as we feared and thrilled at the thought of discovery in our very public hideaways. Devastation all around me and I think I really did care about the fears and worries of friends. But, to be honest, a fog of lust had descended and desire was like an all-consuming disease. I could think of little besides the sensation of his fingers on my tits, tongue on my clit and cock inside my wet, hungry pussy. It was a long, languid, hot summer.

A few days before the holiday was to end and my summer job would be over, Ollie suggested a picnic in Regents Park. His job was safe, but he felt that we should all mark the changes in our fortunes. We hadn’t discussed what would happen with us, but I didn’t question that we’d somehow be together.

The day was English-summer perfect. Hot, a little humid, clear blue cloudless sky. We all wore as little as acceptable and lounged on the uncut grass around a tree. I sipped sparkling wine, heady with the unaccustomed alcohol and the nearness of his bare skin. Ollie nibbled at my earlobe.

‘Hey!’ he whispered.

‘Hey back!’ I smiled into those unfathomable blue eyes, knowing that this moment should never end.

‘What are you doing on 27 August?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ I fluttered my eyelids, pretending coyness. ‘What have you got in mind?’ I could sense the expectant bubbling of sexual longing deep in my core.

Ollie tickled my chin with a blade of grass and then looked down.

‘It’s just that I’m getting married on that day and I’d love you to come.’





Jade Williams
Author of Body and Soul

Read Jade's other blogs:

June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008

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