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FIVE WORDS
There was a stunned intake
of breath and hushed silence.
Faces turned from James to
look back towards her. She blushed, shocked as anybody. Mart’s expression was a
picture.
Suddenly James burst into
his deep, uproarious baritone laugh.
“Not literally.”
The tension disappeared, rapidly everybody was smiling and chuckling.
“No.” James continued. “She
is legally married to Mart and a very nice couple they make too. But
Kelly has invited me to share her home and I have accepted. In that sense,
we’re engaged to each other. So, a toast, please.”
Everybody raised their
glasses, big grins on their faces.
“To us.”
“To Kelly and James” echoed
round the dining room.
Kelly glanced over at Mart
who was stood quietly holding a bottle.
“Mart. I think a few
glasses need refilling.”
“May I ask a question ?” Naomi said, loud enough for the table to hear.
“Ask away.” Kelly replied.
“We’ll be having our usual
New Year’s Eve party. Should we invite you and James this year, or you and Mart ?”
“Oh me and James,
please.” She replied. “But if you need help in the kitchen, or parking cars,
why not book Mart for the evening ?”
Everybody laughed.
“How much is he an hour ?” one of Kelly’s tennis partners asked.
“No charge for friends, dear ! In fact, I shall be looking for employment to keep
him occupied during daytime hours so if any of you needs
a domestic servant, please just say so.”
“My place is a complete
tip.” A man’s voice said.
It was Dylan. Mart’s oldest friend. He’d been best man at their wedding
and closest mate in the early years of marriage. But Dylan
was a serial womaniser and he’d made one too many passes at Kelly. Once,
at Chantal’s fifth birthday party, Mart had caught them kissing. It was her
only fleeting moment of infidelity until Alain. From then on, Mart’s
relationship with Dylan had cooled and, eventually, all but died. How weird
that he could fall out with a friend over a kiss and yet now, years later, he
could accept another man taking over his wife and home.
“But you live an hour’s
drive away, Dyl.” Kelly replied.
Dylan shrugged. “I’ll pay
fuel. You can’t get good help in my area.”
She smiled. “Mmm … I see. Okay, let’s discuss it after dinner.”
“Mart !”
James voice boomed. “Everybody’s having a great time. Go back down into the
cellar and fetch some more bottles of this excellent 1996.”
“Can we see
?”
It was past one a.m. One
couple had left but the remaining guests showed no signs of leaving and the
alcohol was doing the talking. Jazz music played quietly in the background.
“Sure.” Kelly replied.
“Anybody up that end of the table mind ?”
James and the two women sat
either side of him broke off from their conversation and smiled. “Not at all.”
“Strip off.”
Everybody watched as her
husband slowly removed his butler’s uniform. Eventually, a blushing Mart stood
naked, but for his Gerecke tube.
“Does it hurt
?” Dylan’s young date asked Kelly.
“No.” she replied. “Not
unless he thinks naughty thoughts.”
She smiled at all the faces
ogling Mart’s embarrassment.
“How long since he … you
know … ?”
“Since he had an orgasm ?” she asked. “I’m not sure. Mart
?”
“Er … f … forty seven days, Ma’am.”
“There you are. Forty seven
days.”
Phew. Dylan whistled.
“Almost seven weeks !”
“Why don’t you let him now ? You know, jerk himself off.”
The speaker was one of her
tennis partners. Ingrid. A stunning blonde with incredible almost albino hair,
white skin and very long legs. She was half Swedish and had something of the
air of a female Nazi officer about her.
“James keeps the key now.”
Everybody looked at James,
who shrugged.
“Kelly has a strict rule
that he can’t masturbate himself. He used to make love to her once in a while
or she did it with her hand. But she hasn’t done that since I came on
the scene.” He rolled his eyes. “I get jealous !”
There was a silence.
“I’ll do it.”
Ingrid.
Kelly looked at Ingrid, then at Will, Ingrid’s date, who didn’t seem to mind.
Finally at Mart who was puce, shining with sweat. She winked at James. Why not ?
“Okay.” James said,
teasingly brandishing the key in his fingertips.
Mart stood to attention as
the blonde jerked him off in an offhand manner.
Please. A
bit faster.
She was casually holding a
conversation with several others while she did it. They were discussing,
inevitably, masturbation techniques, about why people do it, the best ways,
stuff like that. At one end of the table, Kelly and Dylan were in a deep
tête-à-tête but still smiling and watching him, while at the other end James
was serving himself more wine.
Ingrid removed her hand to
lift her coffee cup to her lips.
“Don’t you hate that ?” the guy who was Ingrid’s date laughed. “Women who stop mid-stroke.”
Ingrid looked up into Mart’s
eyes mischievously. Hers were ice blue.
Dangerous.
“I think he’s super grateful
for anything. Aren’t you ?”
Mart breathed in. “Yes,
Ma’am.”
She slid a teasing red
fingernail under his bursting scrotum.
“It looks a bit sore there. Where it’s rubbed.”
Kelly broke off from
whispering to Dylan. “No, that’s fine. We’ve never had a problem. I just had to
change it briefly to a plastic one a couple of times in the early days back in
July and August.”
Ingrid smiled. She started
milking him again, using just two fingers slowly on the ridge of his helmet. Totally blasé. Pre-cum wept from the tip onto the floor.
Please. Go on. A bit more effort. Yes.
She accelerated her hand,
suddenly pumping him properly.
“Get an empty glass ready.”
She murmured to Naomi.
Mart let out a whimper he
couldn’t control. His knees went weak.
Oh yes. He was going to
come. At last. He really was. It had been so long. 47 days and nights. Who knew when he’d be allowed to again. No, don’t think like that. Just enjoy this moment.
They’re all looking at me. What ? A
mobile phone. Somebody took a photo ! Unghh … cummmminnng ….
Ingrid recoiled as he
squirted pulse after pulse into the tilted glass.
“My !”
Everybody was laughing, one or two studied him in fascination.
His penis quivered,
drooling.
It hadn’t been ruined on
purpose. It was better than that. But she hadn’t finished him properly either. She
took her hand away much too early.
“He looks a little pissed
off with you.”
“Ungrateful sod.” Dylan called
out.
“Well …” Kelly drawled five
words.
“That’s enough until
Christmas.”
“Can I ask you a favour.”
They were in the ladies
locker room. It was three days after the dinner party and Kelly and Ingrid and
their two partners had played three close sets of ladies tennis. Afterwards
they’d all had a giggle at the photos of Mart ejaculating into the glass and
then drinking his ‘shot’, which Alice had saved onto her cell phone.
Now there were just the two
of them.
“Sure.” Ingrid replied.
“It’s quite a big favour.”
Kelly said.
Ingrid shrugged. “Ask away.”
“James has to go to America
on business. He’s asked me to go with him. We’re going to New York and then
he’s got to go to Chicago and San Francisco while I can spend time with my
daughter in L.A. Then he wants us both to have a vacation in Hawaii.”
“Wow !
Go for it.”
“It’s three weeks in total.”
“And you want me to look
after Mart ?” Ingrid’s blue eyes danced.
Kelly smiled apprehensively.
“You got it ! Would you ?”
Ingrid looked her straight
in the face, suddenly pensive.
“Er … yeah. Sure.”
“William won’t mind ?”
“Will ?
Oh no, he’s just a mate. Kind of friend-with-benefits thing.
He doesn’t live with me.”
Kelly relaxed. ‘Aloha !’ She could already hear the surf and see
the palm trees.
Ingrid’s blue eyes looked
concerned.
“Kel’,
you’re okay aren’t you ? You’re not in love with James ?”
Was she ?
“No.” she replied, a little
too fiercely. “Of course not.”
“Promise
?”
“Cross my heart. But I’ve
spent twenty years married to one man. You’ve divorced two in eight years ! I’m just having my turn.”
Ingrid’s expression was
inscrutable. “So you want me to have Mart.”
“Please.”
“You want to give me some guidelines ?”
“I haven’t really got that
far. I was too worried you’d say no.”
“Hey, you needn’t have been.
Actually, I’m … amused by the idea.”
“Well in that case, I don’t
want him to cause you any trouble. You’ve got a nice house. Have you got
somewhere you can keep him locked up when you’re not using him.”
“Actually I have just the
space. In the basement.”
“Perfect. You see … I really
see this as an opportunity, not a threat. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed the
past four months a lot. More than I thought. But dominating Mart is exhausting.
Not physically, but emotionally. I need a break. I want to recharge, that’s
all. In the meantime, I think it would be interesting for … us all, if Mart
experiences something new.”
“New ?”
Kelly took a sip of water
from a plastic cup.
“Yes.” She looked at Ingrid.
“I’m not sure what. I leave it up to you. I saw you the other night, you know …
fucking with him. That’s why I thought of asking you. I want you to … push
him.”
“Push ?
How hard ?”
“Oh don’t hurt him. Not much
anyway. Not like that. Just push a bit further than I seem to be able to … I guess I mean,
so that he appreciates me more when I return !”
“You mean you don’t want him
to enjoy it too much !”
“Exactly” she laughed.
Ingrid smirked. “My dear,
you asked exactly the right person !”
“Bye babe.” Mart said.
“Sorry I can’t make it this time. Enjoy your time with mum. Love you.”
Mart blew a kiss down the
phone to Chantal and then handed it back to Kelly. His conversations with his
daughter were few and far between. She had her frantic, fun new life in L.A.
And he had his new life.
“Right.” Kelly said. “Get
in the car.”
He drove her for twenty
minutes to a large Victorian detached home.
Kelly handed him over, with
his small suitcase. She exchanged a few words with Ingrid and climbed back in
the car.
“You forgetting something ?” Ingrid asked.
Kelly looked blank.
“The key to his
thing.”
Kelly laughed. “I nearly
forgot. James has it. Do you need it ? We’re only
going for three weeks.”
“I think I’d better have it
in case of an emergency.”
Kelly nodded. “Yes. I’ll
mail it. Got to dash. We have an early start
tomorrow.”
“Bye Kel.
Have a lovely time !”
“Ooh dear. Don’t worry, I
will.”
He stood nervously, in
silence, in front of his new ‘owner’.
He had only met Ingrid the
once. She was a new friend of Kelly’s from her tennis club. At least that made
her less embarrassing than, say Naomi, or another
longstanding friend. But she was a frightening woman. Apparently only 30, yet
she’d gone through two husbands and reputedly broken several more hearts. She
was stunningly beautiful; athletic, fit, short blonde hair, with prominent
breasts, a slim waist, and long legs. Yet there was a butchness, an aloofness, about her that wasn’t sexy.
“So …”
Her English was infallible
but if you listened hard, she had a slightly clipped accent. More
South African than Scandinavian.
“ … alone at last.”
She grinned. Or, at
least, she curled her lips and bared her perfect teeth.
“How does it feel saying
goodbye to your darling wife ?”
Terrifying.
“Er … kind of sad to see her go.”
“Kind of sad,
huh.” She mused. “Boy I wish my first husband had been like you. He caught
me fooling around and that was that ! But you see your
wife depart for three weeks fucking in the sun and all you feel is … kind of
sad. Have you ever sucked her boyfriend’s cock ?”
No way, Jose.
“No … Ma’am.”
Ingrid chuckled. “No limits.
That’s what you said to Kelly, right ?”
“Um … yes. That’s correct.”
“You know what she said to me ?”
He shook his head.
“She asked me to push your
limits. Way further than she can herself.”
Mart bit his lip.
This time she let out a full
blown laugh. “Yes. We’re going to have ourselves a whole lotta
fun !”
The cellar was down a stone,
spiral staircase. During World War II, when several officers had been
garrisoned in the big Victorian house, four ‘lock up’ cages had been built for
storing their suitcases and private possessions. Three cages were the same size
and the one at the end was smaller.
Ingrid had inevitably chosen
the one at the end !
It had a stone and brick
floor, ceiling and three walls. The front wall of the cage was made of steel
rods, like a prison cell, with a doorway cut into it. The door itself was made
of the same rods and there was a rectangular, mail box sized opening next to
the bolt and padlock. The opening was originally so any unforwarded
letters or packages could be posted into the officer’s cage ready for his
return.
“Welcome.” She said to him.
“Get in.”
He stooped through the low
door. The cage was about 6’ x 6’ square and about 5’ 6” high. He would have hit
his head if he stood up straight. There was a bright light bulb in the ceiling
with a protective wire tube round it.
“Strip naked.”
She watched him
dispassionately as he removed all his clothes.
“Hand them to me.”
He passed her the bundle of
sweater, pants, shirt, socks, shoes. He shivered. It
had to be only a few degrees above zero down here. He was dressed in his Gerecke chastity device and that was all.
He heard her turn the key in
the heavy padlock on the door.
“Stand to attention.”
He put his feet together and
looked straight ahead.
She pulled a camcorder on a
tripod out from the shadows and set it up facing him. He watched her fiddle
with a couple of wires.
“I can check up on you at
any time with this. I can watch from any one of three televisions upstairs. You
are being recorded on DVD. Smile !”
He grimaced for the lens as
she adjusted the focus.
“You will stand to attention
exactly like that unless I say otherwise. Is that understood
?”
“Yes … Ma’am.”
“Do not move. Do not speak.
Don’t even scratch your nose. I understand you are … toilet trained
?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“So do not do anything but
stand there until I return.”
With that, she was gone.
After about ten minutes, he started feeling ridiculous. He was stood under the bright bulb, staring out through the bars at the lens, and beyond into an empty cellar. He could see the little red recording light on the camera but had no idea if she was watching him or when she might return.
After about thirty minutes
his legs started to ache.
After an hour he was bored
stiff and his whole body ached.
After maybe two hours his
stomach started to growl. Kelly had only allowed him an apple for lunch because
he was busy ironing her clothes for packing. Also, he could have used a piss.
After another hour or so, he
couldn’t help moving about a bit to stretch his limbs and get his blood
circulating. He figured it had to be about eight o’clock in the evening by now.
In seconds, he heard
clacking footsteps of her heels on the stone stairs. She was carrying three
identical steel bowls, stacked one on top of the other.
“Why did you disobey me ?”
She must have been watching
him.
“I got too stiff. I’m sorry
but I had to move a bit.”
She put two of the bowls
down on the floor. The third was full of what looked like stew. It smelt good
and steam was rising off it.
She posted one empty bowl
through the letterbox in the door.
“Your toilet.”
He took it and placed it in
the corner of his cage.
She passed him the second
one.
“Your
drinking bowl.”
He took it. It was empty.
She held up the bowl of stew
and looked at him through the bars.
“It is much better to obey
me.”
Her hand turned 180 degrees
and she emptied the entire contents of the bowl onto the stone floor outside
the cage.
“Oh dear. My arm got too
stiff.” Her imitating voice mocked him. “I’m soooo
sorry but I had to move it a bit.”
She posted the bowl through
the letterbox. There was a smear of gravy left.
“Enjoy !”
she said. “And then you may go to sleep”.
He watched her turn on her
heels and walk up the stairs.
In seconds, he was plunged
into darkness.
He had no idea what time it
was when the light came back on. It might have been midnight, 4 a.m. or
morning. There was no sound and she didn’t appear. After a couple of minutes,
lying curled on the stone floor, he stood up and
assumed the sentry position looking at the camera.
Just in case.
It was hours later when he
heard her on the stairs.
“Good boy.” She said,
smiling. Or what passed for her smile.
She was dressed in a silk
robe and fur slippers.
“Pass me your drinking bowl.”
He handed it to her, knowing
what was coming.
She disappeared round a
corner into another cage. He heard her call out.
“Kel
tells me you’re not too fussy about what you drink.”
She seemed to be waiting for
a reply. “No Ma’am.”
“That’s good.”
He heard the sounds of her
urinating into the bowl.
Moments later, she
reappeared and passed it through the hole.
It was plentiful, dark,
almost egg-yolk colour, stinking of cabbages.
“Whoops, I forgot.” She
shrugged. “We are what we eat ! Too
many veggies last night.”
He stared down at it.
“No rush.” She sneered.
“Just drink it when you get thirsty enough.”
She waited while he placed
it on the hard floor, then opened the camcorder, extracted the disc and
inserted a new one.
“Today, you really will stand
to attention for the camera until I say otherwise. Is that understood
?”
He snapped into position,
feet together, arms stiff, eyes in front.
“Yes … Ma’am.”
“If you wish to eat tonight,
do not move or speak. Clear ?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“So do not do anything but
stand there until I return.”
And with that, she was gone again.
The hours crawled past.
He found that he had two
choices; either he blanked his mind which made the time go incredibly slowly,
or he thought about stuff – mainly sex in some shape of form – which passed the
time but increased the frustration levels in his balls. It was only six days
since he’d had an orgasm at the dinner party but already he was climbing the
walls. Six days ! Only a few months ago he almost
never went more than 24 hours without some sort of release. He felt tired,
uncomfortable, his armpits stank and his breath was fuggy.
Down in the cellar the world
was a different place. Was it morning or afternoon ?
Day or night ? Was she in, or had she gone out ? The camcorder’s red light, its probing lens and his
own boredom were all he had for company.
He thought about the past
four months. The evening when Kelly asked him if his offer
still stood. And everything that had happened since.
The restaurant. Alain. The chastity. The chores. The fitness regime and his diet. The things Kelly had made
him do. James. The trip to Rome. The
footballer. The dinner party. Dylan. And Ingrid. Was this really what he wanted
? Had it gone too far ? How was it all going to
end ?
Finally, who-knew-when, she
appeared. She was carrying another steaming bowl. It gave off a delicious scent
of curry.
“I’ve spoken to Kelly.
They’re in New York. Staying at the Mercer. She’s loving it. She didn’t even ask about you.”
Mart nodded. Frankly he
was too thirsty, famished and tired to care.
“I see your drink is not to
your liking.” She observed.
He glanced down at her curdled urine.
“I … I didn’t want to move.
You said to stay standing still.”
“Did I ?
Oh no. I wanted you to drink that all up.”
He started to kneel down but
heard a splatter on the floor. She had again tipped the entire contents of the
bowl of curry onto the floor.
She shrugged. “You’ll get it
right in the end.”
He couldn’t think straight.
“But …”
She didn’t even bother to
post the smeared bowl to him.
“Go to sleep.”
Moments later, he was
plunged into darkness.
He barely slept; cold,
starving and sore as he was.
He assumed it was morning
when she woke him. This is not fun, lady. But he dragged himself to his
feet to face her chirpily.
“Good morning Ma’am”.
She grinned. She was
carrying another bowl of curry. Curry for breakfast ?
Yuk. But he was so hungry he could eat a log.
“Good boy.” She sniffed the
bowl exaggeratedly. “Mmmmmm !”
“Please …” He murmured,
unable to prevent himself begging.
She glanced down approvingly
at the empty drinking bowl. He’d lapped it completely clean during the night.
“I see I need to refill your
drink. Well, eat this first.”
She passed the brimming bowl
carefully through to him. The oily brown sauce was hot and spicy. She’d even
garnished it with a leaf of parsley.
He looked at her. “How shall
I eat it, Ma’am ?”
“On the floor, of
course. Like a dog.”
He crouched, set it down, then knelt in front of the bowl.
“May I start, Ma’am ?” he asked, looking up at her.
She smiled at him
enigmatically. “When you like.”
Pieces of meat and vegetable
floated in the spicy sauce. It was too hot to eat. He blew on the surface to
cool it. He heard her lips tut-tutting.
“I haven’t got all day you know !”
He blew hard then slurped up
a mouthful of sauce. It was scalding. Too hot to taste.
He burnt his tongue and throat and choked it down.
“Hurry up
!”
He blew and slurped, blew
and slurped. Gradually it cooled slightly and he could taste more. The aromatic
spices overpowered the other ingredients.
“Finished
?” he heard her ask, impatiently.
“No Ma’am.” He gulped. There
was a chunk of gristle that he tried chewing through and spat out in disgust.
“I trust you’re not being fussy ?”
He shook his head, attacking
a large sausage-like piece of something.
“Last mouthful.” She stated,
hurrying him.
He vacuumed up a large piece
with sauce and bit into it. Slowly, or at least in slow motion, he gagged. He
realised what it was. He spat.
She was laughing above him. Afterwards
he reflected that it wasn’t a cruel snigger at him. It wasn’t a kind chuckle
with him either. It was something in between. Like somebody might titter at a
corny joke.
He spat, spat and spat, unable to get rid of it all. It was in his teeth, gums, under his tongue, at the back of his throat.
He heard her heels clacking
as she walked back up the stairs.
Later, much later, she
reappeared.
She was wearing tennis
whites, slurping an iced drink through a straw. Perspiration made her top stick
to her large breasts.
“Please.” He said. “I know
agreed no limits. But this isn’t … fun.”
Her blue eyes surveyed him
like he was something in a shop window.
“Fun ?
That’s a strange word. Whoever said this was meant to be fun
?”
He baulked, scared of
annoying her. “But … it needs … you know.”
“No. I don’t know.”
His instincts suddenly told
him this woman was dangerous. Like Sharon Stone in whatever that movie was.
“Please …”
She started laughing. “Okay
Mart. We’ll try things another way. You can be my maid. But disobey me once,
just once, and I’ll lock you back down here and throw away the key. Got that ?”
“Yes.” He enthused. “Absolutely.”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid.”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid !” he echoed.
After a shower, shave all
over, brushed teeth and combed hair, he dressed in the outfit she had purchased
from an online transvestite store for him; fishnet stockings, miniskirt, padded
bra, tight blouse. And an oversized pair of stiletto heels with locking buckles
that kept his feet arched at an uncomfortable angle.
She waved the key to his Gerecke tube.
“I’m going to unlock you.
But I’ll be watching closely. You must never touch yourself without
permission. Is that a hundred percent clear ?”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid.”
“I have three friends
arriving for drinks shortly. You will serve us.”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid.”
She gestured to a drinks
tray, a fridge and cupboard of glasses.
“Are you hungry, thirsty ?”
“Yes. Very,
Madame Ingrid.”
She smiled. “You don’t want
any more of my nice curry ?”
“No, Madame
Ingrid.”
“In that case do everything
I say.”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid.”
“Do not touch our food or
drinks.”
“Of course, Madame Ingrid.”
Half an hour later, Ingrid
and three other women all in their late twenties or early thirties were
lounging on chairs, gossiping, giggling and guzzling back drinks and nibbles.
He stood in the corner, cursing the painful heels, his dick poking out
underneath his miniskirt, wearing rouge, lipstick and eyeliner. He kept their
glasses topped up and the plates full.
“So who’s this Kelly girl ?”
“Oh she’s a friend from the
tennis club. Met her recently.”
“And she’s in the States ?”
“Yes. For three weeks. Maybe longer.”
What’s that
? Maybe longer ? Is that what she said ?
“With her new man ?”
They all laughed and glanced
over at Mart.
“Yep.” Ingrid replied,
giving him a wink.
“And meanwhile you’re
looking after him ?”
“You could put it like
that.”
Another round of
laughs.
“What does he do ?”
“Er
… pretty much anything. We’re just getting to know
each other first.”
“Anything
?”
Ingrid shrugged and raised
an eyebrow. He walked forwards as daintily as possible carrying two bottles and
refreshed the ladies’ glasses.
As he was withdrawing,
Ingrid reached and held his penis.
It was three-quarters erect,
even though he’d tried to control it.
“Anything.” She replied
coldly.
“Not the biggest.”
“Why do you think Kelly’s
across the pond getting some action.”
Yet more
hysterical laughter. Hah bloody hah.
Ingrid teased his shaft
absent-mindedly.
“Makes you think, doesn’t it ?” One of the three women asked. The
best looking. She was petite with small breasts and lovely dark eyes.
“What ?”
asked the plain one; overweight with a bulging cleavage.
“Well, you know, think about
what to look for in a husband. I mean, your Kelly friend did alright didn’t she ? Family, kid, company, money.
And now she’s off enjoying herself, just when most women are settling for a hot
drink and a comfortable seat in front of the TV.”
“Yeah. Shucks !”
“Some girls get all the
luck.”
They all rolled about on
their chairs.
“Too bad Kelly’s coming back
for this one.” The petite one said, eyeing Mart.
Ingrid glanced up at him and
then smiled at her friend.
“Actually, she might not
be.”
He realised with a shudder
that short, frightening sentence contained just five words.
It was five to eight in UK,
and 14.55 hrs in New York.
Kelly stared at the bedside
clock in the hotel bedroom as James pounded her from behind, both enjoying the
first lazy afternoon fuck they’d managed to fit into the trip so far.
Truth was she felt a little
guilty she hadn’t called Ingrid. She wanted to check everything was okay and to
ask about Mart. She had this uneasy feeling. Call it an intuition.
But she also had this wonderful
feeling. You spend time alone with a guy and pretty soon you know. James was
sophisticated, funny, intelligent and gorgeous. He could ring her bells
effortlessly as he was now. Giving her a wonderful feeling in
her head and between her thighs. But he was a lover, that’s all. She
didn’t love him. Never would. No threat. She loved Mart. Strange, she realised
something as another man drove her to a steadily mounting climax on hotel
sheets. She missed her husband.
The digital clock ticked
over to 14.56.
She watched it. Now would be
a good time to ring and check.
But she felt James’s breath
on her shoulder, nuzzling her hair, and his strong, elegant fingers cupped
underneath her hanging breasts, teasing her hard nipples.
Oh, fuck it, Mart would have
to wait.
And she twisted her face up
to kiss James, murmuring five words to him.
“I am going to cum !”
To be continued in Part Six
(“December”)
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