Gender: Male Age: 45 Location: N/A
AGENTS OF SHIELD: CHAPTER ONE
THE WAY SHE TALKS
By Wojo Martin
This is the three-part tale of young co-workers who are training at the fictional Shield Insurance Corporation. These stories are intended to be light and sweet and frequently lean toward the comic side.
This first story is a “slow burn” as it not only introduces our two principal characters, but other characters who take the lead in the two sequels.
Please do not read Brigid’s dialogue as being grammatically incorrect. She's really quite sharp. I relied on my friendship with some young Irish folk, and a sweetly profane Irish girl, many years ago to guide the attempts to phonetically recreate aspects of her speech.
This chapter features “straight sex” between two consenting young adults.
"She's not a bitch, goys! She's just feckin' Oirish!" Jerry mimicked, unfortunately well. The group of roughly a dozen people gathered around the pushed-together tables at Van der Voot's Varsity sports bar laughed, except for Oliver Blaine. Ollie had his reasons for being less than amused at the derisive comments about the Irish girl, but he hadn’t the courage to state them in front of Jerry’s adoring crowd. Ollie had long been the “go-along to get-along” type.
The "young wan" in question was Brigid Cassidy. Brigid was a member of the cohort of new trainees at Shield Insurance Company. They were "the new bunch" at the corporate headquarters of a huge nationwide company located (for some reason) in the thriving little industrial burg of Wanowee, Wisconsin. Every year, the company brought in two dozen raw college grads and put them through two months of orientation and on-the-job-training before either keeping them in Wanowee or sending them to satellite offices around the US and Canada.
Clever as they fancied themselves, they nicknamed their cohort "Agents of Shield," and made up elegant English translations for the Native American place name, Wanowee. None of them were as clever the cohort imagined they were, and most revolved around the fact that the town seemed to be composed almost entirely of blue collar workers, middle-aged Shield execs and the cohort. They stood out like sore thumbs, mainly because they behaved like drunken young assholes who thought they were just a bit better than the townsfolk around them.
Then there was Brigid. She had been raised working-class Irish. She actually took the time to know many of the “townies” and struck up a close friendship with Gretchen Van der Voot, the bar owner’s gorgeous twenty-something daughter. Even when times got better after Ireland reinvented her economy, the working class values of Brigid's family had stuck with her. Consequently, young Miss Cassidy had little time for those "puttin' on airs."
Her father and uncle had at last been able to find good jobs, and the bright and studious young Brigid had the resources to become the first in her family to earn a college degree. With her father and uncle's encouragement, she set out for America and an advanced degree in business. After that, she became, according to the corporate trainers, the star of the new Shield cohort. Less educated than she, less ambitious than she, but more pleased with their mediocre academic accomplishments than she, many in the cohort struck her as privileged brats. Brigid was not a snob or scold by nature and never shared that information unless somehow pressed into it. But on the rare occasions when co-workers got in her face a bit too much, Brigid had little trouble expressing her thoughts bluntly.
Amongst the cohort, she had grown close to only April Price. The tiny April dreamed of becoming a painter, and her Bohemian style of dress made her seem out of place in the button-down cohort. The studious Brigid and the flighty April seemed mismatched, but in truth they both felt like outsiders in the cohort and right at home with another girl who knew what it was like to experience a sense of isolation.
At the end of the second week, Jerry was the first to feel Brigid’s wrath. Clever and popular, Jerry had made his play openly and confidently, sharing with the boys that he was going to be the first amongst them to claim their pretty Irish co-worker. "But don't worry, Teddy. A few days after, she won't be too stretched out for your little pin dick anymore. It might take a week or two for her to get back down to your size, Mikey." With a few barbs returned his way, smiling Jerry Krauss left the "boy's table" and headed over to where Brigid was laughing and joking with Gretchen.
Ollie Blaine tailed, pretending to need another round, but really just needing to watch the proceedings.
"'Scuse me, Gretchen,” Jerry said, turning on his too charming smile. “Can I borrow Brigid for a minute?"
"Sure, Larry. Talk to ya later, Bridgey."
"It's Jerry." Jerry corrected Gretchen, a little pained that such a pretty girl had forgotten his name. The tall blonde smiled her "gotcha" smile, and Jerry knew he was being toyed with. "Right, GRETA," he said with a laugh, showing he took as well as he gave.
"What kin I do fer ya , Jerry," Brigid said politely. "Havin' trouble with the underwritin' manual ag'in?"
"No, no. Well, a little to be honest, but I'll figure it out, eventually. Underwriting is boring anyway. I'll never wind up in THAT department. We just need enough of an understanding of it to bluff our way through, anyway."
"Sure, until someone calls ya on it. But yer not here ta talk work wit' me, are ya?"
"No, I'm not."
"This is a boy/girl thin’ isn't it?"
"You are smart, Brigid."
"Well-deserved. Well-deserved. Look, I was wondering..."
"I'd love to. She'll be happy, ta tell the truth. She fancies ya, mate."
"Well, yer a good-looking lad, and she thinks yer funny."
“Gretchen, a course. Ya want me ta put in a good word fer ya?"
"Oh, no. I-uh-I was actually hoping to chat YOU up a bit. She’s gorgeous and all, but I’d like to avoid getting involved with the Townies. You see, you're an awfully good looking girl, and I thought maybe we could..."
"Oh..." Brigid looked a little sad. "Jerry, I'm glad ta know ya, and yer a fun one fer parties and all, but I can't see you and me...well, that's not the way I see us goin'."
"That's not the way I feel about ya is all."
"You said I was good-looking."
"And that ya are, Jerry. Quite handsome, if it makes a difference to ya."
"But—oh, shit—I get it. You always hang out with ‘athletic’ Gretchen or that Bohemian April chick from the cohort. I'm sorry, Brigid. Look there's nothing wrong with being gay. My favorite cousin, Tammy, she—"
"Jaysus! I don't want ya ta horse it up in me, so ya think I'm a focking bean flicker, ya neddy!"
"Got no fucking idea what you just said there, Brigid."
"I'm not a lesbian,” she said slowly and clearly, trying to make her accent disappear so that he could understand. “None of us is."
"De-nial ain't just a river in E-gypt," he said smugly.
"Look, maybe we both need to relax the cacks a bit. It’s only a misunderstandin’ after all. I'm just afraid that people thinking I'm a lesbian would make things hard fer me at work. Don't go spreadin' a rumor like that, okay?"
"Well, then go out with me and no one will think that."
"I don't want ta go out with ya, Jerry."
"I didn't know I had ta state my case like a barrister. But since ya insist, I think yer always actin’ the maggot—um—playin' the fool. I'm lookin' fer a man who takes his life a bit more seriously."
"You think I'm a slacker?"
"Good day ta ya, Jerry."
"Did you just dismiss me?"
"I came out tanoight ta try and blow off a little steam and have some fun. This just isn't fun fer me. Are you enjoyin' it?"
Jerry made a 'W' with his hands. "What-ever." He walked away.
"Get an earful, Ollie?" Brigid said, turning to the tall thin young man who had been standing behind her as she head turned to face Jerry.
"I was just getting another round."
"Don't feckin' spuff me, Oliver Blaine. Yer keepin' sketch."
"I love the way you talk."
"Why don't ya go back ta Jerry and his lads? I'm sure he's tellin' 'em all what a roight bitch I am."
"Well you did go all Maureen O'Hara on his ass."
"I did a bit at that, didn't I?" She smiled slightly and brushed her black hair back from her lightly freckled face.
"All Irish lasses so complicated?"
"Nah, some of me best friends are roight little Sallys. Buy 'em a drink and they'll give ya a good ride. Muggins here, I'm a weapon sometimes."
"I think I understood that. You can be sharp-tongued."
"So, how do I get them all ta think I'm not a complete geebag."
"You know how to play quarters?"
"We Irish invented it," she said with a sly smile.
"A smile goes a long ways, and a smile like yours could go all the way around the world."
“Thank you, Oliver. That was roight sweet.” She blushed. Ollie didn’t realize that the outspoken girl blushed about anything. Feeling like he had accomplished something, he headed back to the table. Brigid showed up about two minutes later, a pitcher in one hand and a quarter in the other. Gretchen trailed behind, bringing another two pitchers.
"I don't want ta look loike a stereotype, lads," Brigid said and turned on that smile. "So, let's not let the Irish lass be the only one who shows up ta work hung over tomorrow mornin'!" With that, two of the fellows scooted aside and let her sit down. Studious Brigid Cassidy proceeded to drink them all under the table, all but Jerry. He headed back to the bar behind Gretchen. He had something to prove to the boys, and nailing the gorgeous bartender seemed the best way to do it.
Brigid enjoyed a brief bit of popularity for the next few weeks, much to Jerry's chagrin. She and April ate lunch with the Triple V’s crowd and Brigid taught them Irish slang as she told hilarious stories about her friend, Kathleen Manihan. She was a "right spare arse," and stories of her exploits with "dirtballs" and "eejits" in parked cars, under piers, and on the roof of the damned pub were favorites of all the boys.
Time would prove to be Jerry's ally, though. Brigid the Weapon re-emerged a few Mondays later. The whole gang went down to the bar for a season-opening Packer/Bear Monday night game, and Mikey Skardowski, a strapping young Wisconsin native who had played D-III college ball for UW-Whitewater, took it upon himself to explain the intricacies of the game to Brigid. She was an eager learner, and her rapt attention to Mikey throughout the entire game left him with the wrong impression. He met her in the hallway on the way back from the bathroom and tried to get her into the backseat of his new car. Ollie first heard his voice rise above the din as the word "Pricktease" shot across the room. Ollie’s adrenaline rose as he realized that he liked Brigid a little too much to hear her called names. But he realized the absolute futility of his attacking Mikey in an attempt to defend Brigid.
Oliver had slightly underestimated the fearsomeness of Brigid’s wrath. She had been annoyed with Jerry. She was fuming with Mikey. "Get yer fecking hands off me, ya shitebag! I'm sorry ya got all chubbed up because I listened ta ya talk about football. Ye've been roight noice all night, Mikey, but if ya grab me by the tits again I'll shove yer clackers up yer arse!"
There were a lot more words that started with 'F' after that, and it didn't matter which of them was talking. Gretchen's lanky brothers were working the door, and they moved to get Mikey out, which could have been really ugly if Mikey had decided to make it go that way. Jerry sprang up to talk him down, and Gretchen led Brigid toward the backroom. April had been in a corner with Teddy, Jerry’s closest friend from the cohort. Her actions with him had supported Brigid’s assertion that April wasn't a lesbian either. When things flared up, however, she left Teddy and followed the girls. Jerry decided he needed to make one last nasty comment to Brigid, and that led to Gretchen tossing some harsh words in Jerry’s direction. The whole night was “banjaxed” for everyone. At least the Packers won.
Jerry used it all to his advantage, of course, because that was the sort of thing he was good at. And since his comments to Brigid had put him in Dutch with Gretchen—or rather out of Dutch, if you take the meaning—Jerry was pretty rough. That brought us to the night where the story began. Jerry was mimicking Brigid. Mikey remained silent but seemed sold on Jerry's line. Teddy was eating it all up and adding in cracks of his own. The flare-up with Brigid had kept him from taking the Bohemian April home, after all.
Then there was Ollie. The bold thing for him to do would have been to challenge Jerry right there. But he didn't. Brigid did combative very well; she didn't need Ollie to argue for her. And she sure didn't need him to apologize for her. So Ollie just thought for a moment about what it would be like if he wasn't friends with the “cool kids” anymore.
He’d always been with the cool kids. He was tall, and he had really cool hair. It was brown, with a natural wave in the front. That had been all it had taken to get him in the front door. Then he just went along with things, and he found out he was considered "cool." It had worked since junior high. Now, he caught himself thinking that he really didn't need to be cool. He made a decision in a more quiet and thoughtful way than had been his habit. He did what Brigid called "shlunking." He got up like he was going to walk to the bathroom and then just quietly slipped away.
It was still early, barely past when normal people ate dinner. He walked around for about an hour before he finally pulled out his cellphone and called Brigid. Most members of the cohort had given each other their phone numbers in the first week of training. They wouldn’t be listed in the local phone book until the following spring.
"Hello?" It was Brigid’s roommate, April.
"Hey, April, it's Ollie. What is Brig—I mean what are you girls up to?"
"Gretchen doesn’t have to work until late, so she's coming over and we’re going bowling tonight."
"I can't picture you bowling, April. It's a visual I'd like to see in person, if it wouldn't be too big a pain for you girls to have me."
"Really? Well, um—wait a minute..." There was some speaking in the background.
"Ollie...we need a girls' night out."
"I understand. See ya at work."
He went home alone and played with his Wii. Literally. Okay, he finally did break down and do what Brigid would call “pullin’ ‘is skagdick." Brigid was the focus of his imagination during the exercise. He pictured himself taking her in a wild romp while she uttered a string of filthy Irish slang. He felt a little guilty about picturing her in that fashion without her ever having given him any indication that she was interested in him in any way at all, much less down for such a filthy fucking.
The next day, Ollie was stuck down in underwriting all morning and didn't see any other Agents of Shield except for Scary Steve, the guy who didn't talk to anyone. It was at lunch that he saw the rest of the cohort. He silently observed, “Here we are in junior high, again. Cool kids at two tables pushed together and April and Brigid sitting at a table off in the corner.” There was one difference from junior high, though. For the first time in over ten years, Ollie didn’t care if he was at the big table. He walked past the two tables pushed together and strode over to the corner where the Irish girl and her tiny Bohemian friend sat. He tried to open with a cool remark. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” he said.
The two girls smiled slightly, but they didn’t gaze at him and give him the “You’re so funny!” praise that girls gave boys they wanted to let impress them.
He decided to change tactics to a more honest approach. Oliver Blaine had asked a lot of questions during his Shield training, but at that moment he asked the first one that really mattered to his heart. "Brigid, April, may I sit with you?"
Brigid looked up from her manual of federal insurance regulations. "Yer quite the chancer, aren't ya?"
"I haven’t been much of a chancer in my life, but maybe it’s time. Look, some people are just better company than others. Worth the risk, I think."
Brigid looked to the crowded tables that had fallen nearly silent as they stared at Ollie and the girls. "They'll eat ya alive, Oliver."
"Only if they catch me alone, but I'm hoping to have friends." He smiled hopefully.
"I think I'd better close me book, April. A MAN is goin' ta join us at our table."
"I don't know, Bridgey, with us being lesbians and all."
"I could use a beard," Oliver said. "I'm sure those bitchy little gossips will have me gay by lunch tomorrow."
April smiled at that. "I've been a 'fag hag' all my life, Ollie,” she said. “Have a seat."
"Miss Brigid," he said, "I know you're no Sally. But you are as beautiful a girl as I've ever known, and if it's okay with you, I'd like to call on you some time." He was pleased with the way it came out. It sounded like something a romantic lead would have said to Maureen O’Hara.
"Well, when 'tis a man who asks...I'll consider it. April, alroight if Oliver comes over to ar gaff for the movie this evenin'?"
"You'll love it, Ollie,” the tiny Boho girl said. “We're making popcorn and watching Sex in the City."
"Look at this one, April! We're actually watching Inglorious Basterds, young Oliver."
He looked even sadder. "Well, there's quite a choice for you. My chances of being entertained by the movie went way up, and my chances of getting the girl all romantic and stealing a goodnight kiss just went way down." It was a pleasant lunch, despite the cold stares he got from across the room.
Oliver could practically recite the movie's dialogue from memory. But he arrived at their little apartment above a flower shop happy with idea of watching it for the first time with Brigid. April, however, bailed out right after watching the Bear go all Ted Williams on the German sergeant. She was either very squeamish or the best roommate ever. He would learn the answer to that later.
Brigid and Ollie held hands like a couple of high school kids for a while, but grew a little closer as the evening progressed. By the fiery end of the movie, Brigid had let her head drop to his chest, and he was a little fearful she'd fall asleep, but her blue eyes never even fluttered.
"That movie was a bag o' swhag, Ollie."
"Oh, I thought you were enjoying it."
"I did. It was cla—brilliant."
"I actually understood bag o' swhag."
"Aren't ye the cute hoor?"
"I love the way you talk."
"It's not me best thing, Ollie." The inviting smile that came with the remark immediately planted itself in his brain as the epitome of what a smile should be.
"Oh, shite," he thought. Yes, he was actually starting to think in an Irish accent at times. "I'm going to actually get to kiss her, now." He was certain he had read things right, but he didn't want to summon Brigid the Weapon. He liked this girl way too much. He couldn’t hold back, and he kissed her good and proper. Her tongue proved capable of being a lot of things besides sharp.
"Ollie," she whispered. "I've been hopin' fer ya to come 'round. But, let’s not let things go any further tanoight. I’m not ready fer—everything, and I don’t want to be a tease."
“Brigid, I don’t think you’re that type at all. And to tell you the truth, while parts of me are yelling go, go, go—I’d like to think we’re maybe in this for the long haul. I can wait. For a treasure like you, I can wait.”
“A treasure, Ollie?” she put her hand to her heart. “A treasure? That’s roight koind.” She kissed him again with less heat, but probably more affection. “Walk ya ta the door before we get carried away?” She kissed him goodnight again, and turned away, only to turn back and kiss him one more time. “Sorry, Oliver. I’m doin’ what I just promised not to. If thin’s keep goin’ the way I think they’re goin’ I’m gonna have to really let ya run woild on me ta make up for it—when it’s foinally toime.”
Brigid had meant well by her last comment, and it really was her intention to let him run wild on her, and soon. In the meantime, it just made Oliver think about her all the more. At least he didn’t feel guilty about his fantasies anymore. Brigid had certainly given him reason to think of her that way. Oliver was developing a mild obsession with the idea of hearing her unleash a string of Irish profanity as he ravished her beautiful body. It was nowhere near as powerful a force as his growing fondness for her entire personality, but it certainly took over his fantasy life.
The next morning was another trip right back to junior high. Oliver found himself walking down the hall and met Jerry, Teddy and Mikey coming the other way. Jerry drove a shoulder into him as they passed.
“Really?” Oliver asked. “Did you really just do that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry if I bumped you, Ollie. It’s just crowded coming from this direction with all my friends.”
“Jeez, Jerry. He looks upset,” Teddy said.
“Please don’t be upset, Ollie. We wouldn’t want you to cry or anything.” Jerry cracked. Teddy snickered. Mikey stood back and didn’t say anything; he just looked huge and menacing instead.
“This is ridiculous,” Oliver said. “I’m not playing this.”
“Jerry, why don’t you, Crabbe and Goyle just leave me alone? Sure, I’d love to kick your ass, but I’m a grown-up now.”
“A grown-up girl,” Teddy muttered.
“Whatever, children. This is a professional office, and I’m not going to act like a junior high boy here. Hell, you might have a rich daddy to take care of you, but I NEED this job.”
Jerry opened his mouth to say something, but he swallowed whatever it was as Scary Steve walked by. Even Mikey stepped back a bit as the silent specter passed. Before Jerry could get another word out, Brigid and April showed up.
“There you are, Ollie,” April said. “Mr. V needs you.”
“April, sweetie,” Oliver said kindly. “We have at least twelve Mr. V’s here. More than half this town is Dutch.”
“Sorry, accounting Mr. V.”
“It’s on our way,” Brigid said. “Walk with us?”
The little trio tried to squeeze past the three boys. As they did, Mikey, stepping back into the middle of the hall, bumped into Brigid. It wasn’t much of a bump, but Oliver lost control. He launched himself into Mikey and shoved with all his might. Mikey didn’t move—well, maybe a few inches. He ignored Oliver and took Brigid by the hand. “Jesus, Brigid,” he said quickly. “I am really sorry. I would never...” Mikey turned to her friends, well maybe not so much to Ollie. “I really am sorry.”
Oliver started to try and shove Mikey again, but April got between them and pulled both Brigid and Ollie down the hall and out of harm’s way. Oliver threw a heated glance over his shoulder. Jerry and Teddy laughed and clapped Mikey on the back before continuing on their way. As Oliver rounded the corner, Mikey stood rooted to where he had been and banged his head against the wall. Oliver stopped and turned Brigid to see. Her angry expression melted. “Sweet Mary,” she whispered. “’twas really an accident!”
“Good thing I stepped in,” April said as the couple caught up with her. “Mikey might have gotten hurt.”
“Very funny, April. I get it. He could have wiped the floor with me.”
“Ollie,” she said, suddenly serious. “I wasn’t insulting your manhood. Really, I think you’re a brave and strong man. I just meant, well, Brigid’s a kicker, and Mikey wasn’t covering his groin.” Brigid looked innocent, but Oliver didn’t think April was really kidding.
He finally got to go bowling with the girls the next night. Brigid wasn’t bad, and Ollie was okay. April was, well she was a good sport, anyway. For a tiny creature who appeared graceful on the surface, April was a bit of a klutz. They all learned not to stand behind her when she brought the ball back, because there was always a moment of uncertainty as to which direction the ball might go. Long tall Gretchen had been Second-team All-State in basketball. If she was better at that than she was at bowling, Ollie was a little afraid to watch her on the hardwood. Very few men he had ever bowled with threw the ball as hard as the comely barmaid. As he looked around at the locals rolling their games, he realized that with respect to their fervent Catholicism and Packer fandom, bowling was the principal religion in Wanowee.
After bowling, and dropping Gretchen off for the late shift at Triple V’s, Ollie got invited up to the girls’ apartment for a beer. April suddenly claimed that she had promised to call her mother, and a frantic search for her phone followed. The girls went in and ransacked her room. There was a good deal of whispering and giggling. April finally found the phone—in her huge purse. Much to Oliver’s pleasant surprise, Brigid used the interruption as a chance to scoot off to her room and change into her jammys. She then snuggled in next to him on the couch for a little television viewing. Oh, the jammys? One of those huge cotton shirts that isn't form fitting but shows plenty of leg. And when she folded her legs underneath her, it pulled the cloth tight enough to show the upper curve of her bust and revealed no telltale bra straps. It wasn't exactly a schoolgirl outfit with the blouse buttoned down, but it sure worked for Oliver.
They sat and watched TV silently for a while. Brigid was quiet, and he left her to her thoughts. Ollie was good like that. Suddenly, Brigid grabbed him and kissed him passionately.
“What was that for?” he said when he could find his breath.
“Fer bein’ me man,” she whispered. “I want no other, and I believe ya want me, too.”
"Wow!" he whispered back. “I-I-do want you Brigid, and like you said, ‘no other.’”
She suddenly unleashed a torrent of words. He understood most of them and loved the way all of them sounded. "Ya were so close fer so long, Ollie. I fancied ya from the start, but I don't just part me legs fer any boy with a pretty smoile and great, great hair." She roughed up his brown hair for a second. "I needed a man, but ya never stepped away from that pack a' gurriers. But Gretchen was pickin' up her check when ya shlunked away from 'em that one noight at Triple V’s. She told me about it, but I still had to be certain. When ya called that same noight ta ask ta go bowlin’ with us, I hadn’t talked to her about it yet. When she told me, I was sorry I didn’t ask ya along. But Gretch said, ye’d find yer way to me if ya were worth a damn. And sure as loife, ya showed up at our table the next day, bold as brass ta do it, too. And I said, 'He's boxed off now, this one is. Brigid, ya got a chance at a man!’"
"I never really felt like a grown man until I tried to make myself worthy of you," he said with genuine humility.
"Oh, Jaysus, that’s a sweet thing to tell a girl,” Brigid said, obviously moved by his words. “You are a treasure yerself,” she added, recalling that he had once used that word to describe her. “I want ta do things roight and proper,” she continued, “but ya get me goin’ full speed, just lookin’ at ya. It's been a long toime, Ollie, a long toime without a man. But I want ya, tanoight."
He couldn’t believe the power merely having her say this had had on him. "Tell me again."
"I want ya, Ollie. I want ya bad."
He flashed a cocky smile. "Tell me Irish." He had been patient with her, and she had promised him that he could run wild when the time came. Some risks were worth taking. If his life the last few weeks had taught him anything, it was that.
"Tell ya Irish?” She was a little surprised at the firm manner in which he had stated his last request, but she found it to be compelling. “You have always been fascinated with the way I talk. Have you been dreamin’ about me talking like a roight little Sally while ya take me?” She could tell by his expression that she had hit the mark. “And now you’re tellin’ me that’s what ya really want from me? Ya told me once that you’d always been one fer playin’ it safe. But since ya met me… Ya really are a chancer now, aren't ya?” he smiled and shrugged, but then looked her right in the eyes. It was his best smoldering look, and it was a pretty good one; his desire for her had been simmering for a long time. “Alright, Oliver, I made ya wait long enough; it's yer lucky noight. Besoides, when I foinally give myself to a man, well, I give him what he wants… Here goes.” She took a deep breath and put on her best smoldering look. It was better than Ollie’s. “I ain't been flattened proper in ages. I been on me tobler, too damned long. Put me down on this couch and throw it in me, ya long streak a piss!"
"Oh, you right spare little arse,” he said with a grin. “I love the way you talk." He kissed her again and slowly worked his hands up and began to massage her breasts through the fabric of her night shirt. He felt all the tenderness in the world for this girl, but soon Ollie found his hands roughly groping her. Brigid looked at him with fire in her eyes; she desired this roughness from him.
She had had dreams of her own. She had tried to imagine his soft loving caresses, and had found the image pleasing. But truth be told, it had been too long without a man touching her body, and this greedy ravishment was exactly what she had wanted for some time now. Brigid’s own fantasies had turned to wild romps as well, and they had clouded her mind to the point that they were interfering with any attempts to focus on how sweet her new lover could be. The more she tried to concentrate on his sweetness, the more it made her want to give herself to him in a wanton fashion. Sweet men loved a good dirty fuck as much as any other type of man. The difference with them was that they deserved to be trusted enough to let them have one.
Sensing the moment for the wild passion she craved was at hand, she snatched the nightshirt off over her head in one quick motion, and her full breasts spilled out. She knew men loved her breasts, and that the way she responded to having them handled urged her lovers to great passion. She moaned as soon as he now touched them bare with the same rough hands that had pleasured them through her nightshirt. When he kissed her nipples and teased them with his long fingers, she gasped in delight.
Oliver put his mouth to them again, and let one hand drift south. He soon became aware that Brigid had come back out of the bedroom with no panties at all. He pulled back and grinned at her, feeling like he had caught her being the dirty little wench he had desired. She knew her brazenness had been discovered and felt like she should blush, but on this night, Brigid couldn’t muster shame. She grinned back and let Oliver realize that he been had foolishly sitting and watching TV with her bare pussy just inches away from him! She watched the smug look leave his face as he gazed at the new wonder he had discovered between her legs.
Oliver was not shy about staring at her womanhood. It was his to take now, wasn’t it? She had a neatly trimmed strip of very black hair with only a slight curl to it. He stroked her labia and teased her clit with his thumb. “Oh, I am going to have fun with this,” he whispered, declaring his lecherous intentions. “I am going to taste this sweet little Irish pussy, and you are going to love it.” He lowered himself face-first into her hot minger.
"Oh, I am yer dirty little girl, Ollie, me man. Eat me giblets, ya nasty focker!" She was playing up her brogue for him now. "Eat the giblets off me; get a good taste. Then root me like I'm a dirty little slapper." He must have known what that one actually meant from listening to her tales about Kathleen Manihan. He set out to do as he was asked, and Brigid was swept away on a tide of ecstasy. He kissed her sex greedily, and she writhed and muttered Irish curses as he sucked and flicked her little bean while probing her with his long thin fingers. She would never admit that she said something about Irish Crème, but he swore she did. It was heavenly for her, but Brigid had now tapped into her desire to be taken all the way. “Oh, sweet mother,” she gasped. “Don’t make me cum yet. I want you inside me when I do. Horse that thing up in me box, Ollie! Feck me rotten!”
He pulled down his pants and boxers and dropped them to the floor, kicking out of his loafers as he did so. Then he wrapped an arm around her and picked her up completely. Setting her knees on the seat, he bent her torso over the end of the couch. She reached back and stroked his long thin cock a few times. "Jaysus, look at the pipe on this one!"
"I'm gonna lay some pipe in ya right now, my sweet little Sally!" he said, intentionally picking up the accent.
Brigid laughed warmly at his attempt to match her Irish-ness. She turned and leaned up and to make a comment, but Ollie bent her back over the arm of the couch, then reached around and grabbed her breasts while he firmly drove his shaft deep inside of her. “Oooh, sweet mother,” she whispered. Ollie gave her a second to adjust to his presence inside her and kissed her shoulders a few times. Then he cut loose and began to firmly thrust in and out at a strong and steady pace. He realized that it wasn’t the accent that made her unintelligible for the next few minutes. It was a wild fuck. Not a mean one, but a rough one. They both knew it was just a bit of filthy fun between two people who were very fond of one another, but there were deeper emotions simmering beneath and they came out in the fierceness with which they were making love.
For him, it was a few months of fantasizing about her gorgeous body come to fruition. For her, it seemed even longer. Brigid had a lot of passion for Ollie, but her careful habits in choosing men meant that she had over a year of strong sexual desire pent up. The passionate young beauty had long needed the release a good romp could provide. Neither of them could truly sort out what their relationship was going to be in the long run until their craving for this purely sexual act was sated.
Oliver continued his steady pace. His length allowed him long and powerful strokes. Brigid snaked a hand down between her legs and played at her bean while he pounded away. She had been close to orgasm from the oral sex Oliver had hungrily provided, and she went over the top well before he did. She wasn't a screamer, but in this setting she moaned pretty damned loud as she had her orgasm. She had wanted to come with him inside her, and she had reached her goal. Much to her liking, Oliver did not pause in his efforts, and she stayed at a heightened level of ecstasy.
Oliver continued pounding away and said nothing, but he was overjoyed with her response. It’s always nice when you're able to tell someone is enjoying your work, and there was no doubt that he was pleasuring his little Irish beauty. Her frankness could make her a bit of a weapon, but it also meant that a man who pleased her was amply rewarded for his efforts. He flipped her black hair aside and attacked her gorgeous shoulders with fierce kisses and a few playful nips as he slowed his thrusts to long powerful strokes straining to get every bit of him inside of her. Her walls were full and responsive. He could feel her respond to every thrust. Her body gave ample resistance as he drove forward, but also seemed to be trying to grasp him as he withdrew. This slower, filthier pace was allowing him to go longer, but he knew that he could not hold out much for more than a few more minutes, if that.
She let him take her in this slow and commanding fashion, until she could sense that he was ready for his final flurry. She hated to see this torturously slow fucking end; each long stroke brought her so much pleasure. But she knew that there was plenty of pleasure to be had in allowing him to take her as wildly as he had in the beginning. “Oh, shite,” she gasped, when she could find words. “That is one long feckin’ dick! Hammer me, Ollie! I love the way ya put it to me.”
Her sounds and words had started to bring him close to his boiling point. He dug in and rooted her for all he was worth. She had fallen more silent, but was still meeting his every thrust. "Don't hold back when ye hit the vinegar strokes," she whispered. "I'm on the smarties." He hadn't even begun to think about that, to tell the truth. He had started without considering the finish, and then just decided he would pull out. The idea of spraying her gorgeous ass and exquisitely curved back had been very appealing. But she was offering him a better option. He had worried that he had fantasized about Brigid too much, creating an unreachable illusion of what fucking her would be like. He had found that the reality was far better than even his sweet anticipation of it had been. “Feck me, Ollie! Feck me hard as ye want, me beautiful man!”
That did it. Her voice was so beautiful, but her words were so filthy! He pulled her hips tightly to him and buried himself to the hilt as he unleashed his jets inside her. He began to feel exhausted as soon as the orgasm started, but it kept on coming in waves of ecstasy, driving his hips to move on their own. She ground around the base of his pipe to get every final drop out of him. She let out a loud squeal, and he realized that her grinding had hit her own sweet spot, and she had found her way to a second orgasm. His body kept going, her actions somehow prolonging his own orgasm far past any he had experienced before it. He thought his clackers were going to shrivel up! When he was finally fully spent inside her, he slid back onto the couch, his t-shirt still on and now soaked with a little bit of everything. She curled up on top of him, stroking his chest.
In the silence of the moment, they heard a slight buzzing sound coming from April’s room. They looked at each other and chuckled. They had forgotten she was only twelve feet away. The buzzing stopped and soon the stereo began playing loud music. Whether or not the buzzing resumed after that, they could not tell.
“We must have been quite the thing to hear,” Oliver said, turning crimson.
“And I imagine I was a bit too loud fer the poor girl not ta know how I was feelin’. Lord, Ollie, ya got me going thar. I came twoice, really close together. I never, ever made a sound loike that last one before. Apricot must have been gettin’ quoite the earful.”
“I’d better go tend to her needs,” he announced and pretended to get up. She pulled him roughly back to the couch and straddled him to prevent his escape. It had been just a playful moment, but her position and warmth began to arouse him. Still, he was exhausted. He wasn’t sure that he could… then she was sliding down and taking him in her mouth.
Ollie had never been taken by a girl in quite this manner. She was in enough control to prevent scraping or biting him, but she attacked him with a hungriness he had not expected on top of what they had already done. Then, she unleashed her tongue. She didn’t lick him as much as she stroked him her tongue, using the tip, then the flat, then swirling it around him and making darting little attacks. Then, she did something so crazy that he thought he was going to leap to his feet and scream. Irish girls roll their initial R’s sometimes. It’s not something American girls can do without effort and concentration, but it was as natural as anything to Brigid. It seemed that she could do it no matter what the rest of her mouth was doing. Men don’t often get wrapped up by things that vibrate, and despite how thoroughly he had emptied himself just minutes before, Oliver felt the build to a release. He began to moan and tried to reach for her chin to let her off of him. She slapped his hand away, fairly hard. She wanted to keep him in her mouth until she was entirely finished with him. Every drop of what he offered was swallowed, and when she lifted her pretty face to gaze up at him, she had a knowing look. “Still want to see to another girl’s needs?” she asked, knowing the answer.
“I want you, and no other,” he managed to whisper. They laughed fondly, and she crawled back up to him as they resumed the gentle touches of their afterglow. Finally, Ollie was overcome with the desire to sort out where all this had left them. “Brigid,” Ollie said, taking on a thoughtful manner. “We did things in the right order, didn’t we? I mean I’d like this to be something more than just really, really fantastic sex. Fantastic. Did I mention that you were fantastic?”
“Damn ya, Ollie, you are a sweet thing, but don’t worry. I needed ya ta do that ta me. I wanted ya so bad, I couldn’t think straight."
“I know what you mean, but now that you can think straight…?” he asked hopefully.
She kissed him gently on the lips and took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers in a show of intimacy. “Would ya loike to stay the noight, lover?” she asked in return. “I think we have some deeper emotions ta get to now that we’ve—gotten that wildness out of our system.”
“I’d like to talk and rest for a long while, and then try that whole thing again, but nice and sweet; you’re right about me having deeper emotions for you.”
“So ye’d like ta stay?”
"More than anything," He felt the overwhelming urge to say what he felt deep inside. "Brigid, I think I love—" she put a finger to his lips.
"Not yet," she said. "Not after all we've done is fock like this. Ye’ve heard lots of the dirty words from my home, and I’m sure you’re going to get to hear them again. But we Irish have beautiful words that speak from the heart, too. Ya need to hear those as well, my sweet man. And, I want ya to know about me family, and me dreams. Before we move on to say the most important words of all, I want ya to know what yer getting' inta with me."
"Fair enough. The fact that you can be with me the way we were tonight, and how fully you gave yourself, is amazing.”
“Ya make me feel amazing, Ollie. Thank you for that.”
He kissed the back of her hand a few times. “Alright, Miss Brigid, I do so want to make sweet tender love to you, and get to know all about you before we say those three little words. But I do have to say just one thing right now. I think I love—much more about you than the way you talk!"
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