It's RedHotPie, After All.

If you prefer your stories wham baam you’re going to hate this, but if you’re into a slow erotic literary burn, keep reading.

Victoria is standing on the side of the road, wearing jeans, a blue striped t-shirt, and a scarf tied loosely around her neck. I pull up on my Vespa, and she smiles at me, her whole face lighting up. It’s our second meeting – the first time was in the city.

‘Let’s just meet for a quick coffee’, she’d messaged me. ‘See if we have a connection.’

When I’d joined RedHotPie, I hadn’t imagined this. I thought it was going to be instant gratification: you message, you meet, you fuck, you move on. But here I was meeting my date in a café, just like you did on Tinder, or Bumble, or Hinge or any of those dating apps I’d decided I didn’t want to be on anymore. Anyway, we’d met for quick coffee and it’d had gone well. Really well. She looked just like her photo: slim, blonde, but bottle-blonde, the dark roots showing. And when she spoke, I could hear a slight accent.

‘I was born in Argentina,’ she told me. ‘But I was educated in the US.’

I’d thought the age difference might be an issue – she was twenty years younger than me, but she didn’t even mention it. And later that day she ‘d messaged me. ‘I like you. Let’s meet again.’

‘Let’s go for a spin on my Vespa?’ I replied.

So here I am picking her up. Unfortunately, it’s a cloudy day; I haven’t even bothered to bring bathers.

‘So where do you want to go?’ I ask. ‘Bronte? Bondi?’

‘Somewhere less crowded,’ she says, her smile slightly lopsided.

As I help her on with her helmet I tried not to study her face too much, I don’t want her to think that I’m checking her out. She’s pretty, but not in a conventional way, her features aren’t quite regular, and her forehead is lined.

No Botox, I think. She not trying to something she’s not.

I straddle the bike, and she gets on behind me. We take off, and she grips the side of the bike. But as we gather speed, her hands find their way to my hips, holding me lightly. I’m exquisitely aware of how close she is to me: the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume, her breasts pushing against the thin material of my t-shirt.

Something is happening to me, something is shifting. I feel alive, more alive than I’ve felt in years, not since my marriage had ended. Sure, I’ve been on dates with other women. Sure, I’ve had sex with a couple off those. But none of them had made me feel like this.

But this is RedHotPie, I tell myself. Message. Meet. Fuck. Move on. This isn’t supposed to happen.

We meander through the backstreets of Maroubra, but when we turn onto the main road, I open up the throttle. She presses herself into me, her hands tightening their grip on my waist. Now blood is pumping through me body, I feel it at my temples, and my cock is getting hard. Just before we reach La Perouse I take the turnoff into the National Park, slowing right down for the speed bumps. Finally, we reach the car park. There are only a few cars there, and I park the bike. We make our way along the path to the cliffs, the waves below smashing against the rocks, sending huge spumes of water flying upwards.

‘This is so beautiful,’ she says. ‘Wild and beautiful.’

I feel so pleased that she likes this place as much as I do. The last person I’d brought here had complained because it wasn’t like Bondi with its trendy cafes and its crowded beach and its Insta models. We follow the cliffs, and I’m sort of wishing we were still on the bike, her body pressing against mine. Then the coast swings around and a tiny beach, little more than a patch of sand between the enormous rocks, reveals itself. As we get closer, I can see some other people sitting on the sand, two couples.

‘There’s lots of this stuff here,’ I said, reaching down and picking up a piece of green sea-glass, handing it to Victoria.

‘Oh, it’s so pretty,’ she says, turning it around in her hand.

We spend the next twenty or so minutes collecting sea-glass before finding somewhere to sit. The clouds crack apart, and the sun appears. The sea, slatey grey before, is now sparkling blue.

‘I wish I’d brought my bathers,’ she says.

‘Me too,’ I say. ‘But I’m fine going in my underwear’

‘Actually, so am I,’ says Victoria, standing up, peeling off her t-shirt.

I’m actually a bit shocked: my ex would never have done something as spontaneous as this. Never.

Now I’m not sure where to look. But Victoria must sense my discomfort because she says ‘Phil, I don’t mind you looking at me.’

‘Really?’

‘No, of course not,’ she says. ‘You can even say something nice if you feel like it.’

‘You have a gorgeous body,’ I say, my eyes on her breasts, the way they swell over the lacy material of her bra.

‘You’re pretty well-proportioned yourself,’ she says, and I realise her eyes are on my crotch, on my stiffening cock.

‘Thanks,’ I say, slightly embarrassed. ‘Let’s hit the water.’

I lead, and we make our way past the two couples. The water is warm, and we wade a bit, and then dive underwater. Again, I think of my ex, how she would always make such a fuss about getting her hair wet.

‘I’m not a good swimmer,’ says Victoria. ‘But why don’t you go out further?’

I’m about to say ‘I’m fine here with you' but then it occurs to me: she wants me to go out further, to show my prowess.

I swim out, slow powerful strokes, and I think of all the ocean swimming I did after my marriage broke up, long reckless swims on rough winter days. Sort of crazy, but it helped me get through it. I make my way back to where she’s standing waist deep in water.

‘I’d like to swim like that,’ she says.

‘I can teach you,’ I say.

‘I think it might be too late,’ she says, and I see something cross her face I hadn’t seen before, a sort of melancholy.

But then she brightens again. ‘Let’s go back in.’

We make our way back to our clothes and I say ‘We could dry off on that flat rock over there.’

‘Great idea.’

I lay down on the rock, making myself comfortable. Victoria does the same. I close my eyes. From below, the rock gives up its warmth. From above the sun shines down. The sound of the waves collapsing on the shore. A gentle breeze wafts over me. And within an arm’s length, this gorgeous woman.

I so just want to enjoy this wonderful moment, to be right in it, but there’s also this feeling that I should do something, take the initiative. It's RedHotPie, after all.

But what – why not just enjoy what you have, Phil?

Then, her voice ‘Sorry, but the rock is a bit rough, do you mind if I use you as a pillow?’

‘No, of course not.’

She rearranges herself so that her body is now perpendicular to mine and rests her head on my ribs, her damp hair splaying across my stomach.

‘That’s better,’ she says.

Again, everything feels so beautiful. Again, I feel like I should do something.

‘Can they see us?’ she says. ‘The other people?’

I twist my neck to look behind. There’s more of them now, probably eight people scattered along the sand.

‘Yeah,’ I say, my heart starting to race.

‘That’s a pity,’ she says. ‘I feel horny.’

My hand finds its way to a lock of her damp salty hair, I twist it around my finger.

‘I like that,’ she purrs. ‘Do you think they can see me do this?’

I watch mesmerized as her hand slides down her stomach and under the band of her panties.

‘No, they can’t see that,’ I whisper.

How can she possibly know? I think, amazed. I’m pretty vanilla, but if I have one kink it’s this: watching woman masturbate.

‘I’m so fucking wet,’ she moans.

And I’m so fucking hard.

I can see that her fingers are working furiously now as she spreads her legs wide.

‘Grab more of my hair,’ she urges. ‘Twist it hard.’

‘How hard?’

‘Hard!’

I do as she asks, grabbing a handful of her damp tangled hair, twisting it around my hand.

‘Harder,’ she demands.

I twist it more.

‘Harder.

I do as she asks.

‘Oh fuck,’ she moans. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

Her back arches, her body shudders, and she cums, yelling out loudly in Spanish.

I relax my grip on her hair.

'Don't stop!' she urges.

I twist her hair harder, and she cums again, more violently this time, again yelling out.

'Do you think they heard me?' she giggles, nodding towards the people on the beach.

'I'd say so,' I reply, laughing.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ she says.

As she takes her hand out of her panties, I can see her juices glistening on her fingers. We quickly put our clothes back on and I follow her as she walks quickly away. She says nothing, and I’m not sure if she’s upset somehow, not sure how to initiate a conversation.

Back in the carpark we get on the bike and take off, her hands resting on my hips. But then one hand finds its way to my mouth, fingers sliding it.

‘Does my cunt taste nice?’ she says.

I nod. It tastes like the sea. It tastes like her.

Her other hand slides down into my pants until it finds my swollen cock.

‘It’s your turn now,’ she says, her hand moving. ‘Keep your eyes on the road.’