by Annie Dyer
My orgasm burns me. As it ceases I hear him call my name and feel him go deeper and slower inside me as he comes, his hands on my hips, stilling me. Only our heavy breaths move us, his skin pressed against mine. Then he gently undoes the tie, running his thumbs over the backs of my hands.
I hear his breath; feel his heat. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay. There’s a kiss to the place where my shoulder meets my neck that makes me shudder but my legs grow stronger.
“I’ve made a mess of you.”
“You made a mess of me when you left.”
“I had to go. Both then and this morning.” He brushes my hair out the way again.
“This morning was because of Lennox?”
He’s still inside me, still semi hard. I learned last night that ‘recovery time’ isn’t in his vocabulary.
“Don’t want to talk about him right now.” His voice is gruff. “This can only be simple.”
“I know.”
“Micky told me about your clubs.”
I’m going to fucking kill Micky.
“He shouldn’t have done.”
“He knew you needed an outlet.”
“He enjoyed it too. I saw many demonstrations of just what a butt plug can do.”
I feel him laugh.
“And paddles. And various engineering concepts put into practice.”
“I don’t need anything but my hand and the odd tie.”
“So you’ve proved.”
He starts to move in me again, slowly, shallowly.
“I want to be your secret. Like we were when we were kids.”
“Okay.” I’m not okay with this but I don’t know why, because there isn’t anything else we can be, other than a quick, hidden fuck.
“I want to keep you safe.” He’s moving quicker now, hands on my breasts, gripping them.
I hold onto the tree, needing stability. I don’t know if this is keeping me safe, because I’m pretty sure he could break me into fractured piece of porcelain, only suitable to be ground into sand.
“I want to make sure you’re looked after.”
He’s going faster now, sharper. I’m pulled back from the tree and we drop to the floor, my hands and knees on the ground and he fucks me hard from behind like we’re animals. My breasts swing with his thrusts and my cunt swells with his words which are now all about what he wants to do to me and how. He slaps my arse and I come, my groan wild and uncaring.
He pulls out and ejaculates over my back, spraying his territory. I turn my head and watch his face as he comes, eyes hooded, bottom lip bit.
“Next time it’ll be over your tits.”
He pulls me up off the ground and looks at me. “Fuck those dresses you wear, Blair, and when you have your hair up all fancy, this is when you look fucking beautiful.”
“You have an odd definition of beauty.”
His smile is shy, boyish. “I was never taught what beauty was supposed to be. I only know what I see.” He leans in and kisses me, softly, not one that lingers.
“The sea is that way. I should probably swim.”
He nods and I pull on my bikini while he dresses back in his discarded trousers, not bothering to button up his shirt. The sea when we get there is warm and I swim out far and fast, the waves kind. They wash away the evidence of what we’ve done, the semen from my back and the thick wetness between my legs. I kick and push against the water, cleansing everything but my mind.
August
August is that last flicker of fun and heat before everything fades and dies. The final moment of fun before the freeze. In the winter, everything changes. – Rasmenia Massoud
Chapter Eleven
August has just slipped in when my parents arrive, both tired and relieved to be somewhere out of the focus of the media. I’ve spent the end of July with all the books I’d never read, lazing on sun loungers and swimming in the sea, swapping sun tan lotion with Elise who didn’t run back to Scotland in search of Lennox.
The island’s privacy and calm pushed away any political goings-on and I forgot about reunification or hard borders or walls. The sun has become our centre and our days fixed around it; early mornings bring yoga sessions by water or in the trees and the evenings when the sky is black and dark, speckled with a million stars, is when Ben comes to my room.
If anyone has noticed, they don’t care or say anything. Elise has either not picked up on how I spend my nights or why I’m sometimes walking too stiffly, or she’s ignoring it. The former makes more sense.
My parents’ arrival pauses the island. Security is discreetly stepped up, but it changes the molecules in the air and even the sea birds hold their distance as the yacht anchors and a small entourage exit. They travel light; most dignitaries carry more than they do, and they’d rather wear a cloak of anonymity but that isn’t the life they have.
“You look well,” my mother says as she sees me by the pool. “I’ve never seen you this tanned.” She gives me a light hug, mainly because I’m covered in fresh sun tan cream. “And you smell of coconuts.”
My father smiles. He looks tired and colourless and I remember the morning when I found him unwell. Thoughts of him dying plague my waking moments at the point where sleep catches me. When he is gone, Lennox will be king. Lennox is a good man with a need to serve his people, but he isn’t my father who is discreet and subtle. My father has balance. Lennox will tip that balance.
I can’t think about my father not being there because if I do, it rips me in two. I know he’s ill, I know my mother’s shielding us from something in the hope it will be a problem that can be solved without us ever needing to worry, but something in my gut tells me that it won’t be solved.
The very idea makes me want to curl into a ball and hide because the thought of it destroys me.
“You look like you need a holiday.”
He gives me a hug and I feel his thinness when I return it. “You look good, Blair. I take it you haven’t been bored.”
“Not at all. It’s paradise here.”
He nods and smiles and retreats indoors under the premise of unpacking.
“He doesn’t look well.” I sit down next to my mother who’s presented with a copa of gin and tonic.
“He isn’t.” This is the most she’s confirmed about my father’s health. “When we return home he’s going to have to ease up on duties. We’ll have to manage the press. Lennox will need to curb his activities.”
“What’s the diagnosis?”
She’s never told me. Every time I’ve asked, she’s deferred the question somehow.
“Cancer. Of the liver.” The light has gone from her eyes and I remember that my mother never married my father for his status. She chose the man and accepted his position.
The word is a bullet. I won’t double over and start to cry because he’s my father but he’s also her husband.
“Is he going to get better?”
“No.” She sips her drink. “Franklyn can tell you more when you want to know. If you want the details.”
What she means is that there’s no point in having the details because they won’t change anything. And also she can’t bear to go through them because this could destroy her too.
“Okay.” Who knows what else to say. “What else has been going on?”
And this is how we will cope. We’ll carry on like good royals and save our mourning for our beds and our pillows.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. We shall mourn another day. Tonight I’ll lie in Ben’s arms after we’ve done unspeakable things and I’ll tell him about my father. He’ll wipe the tears away and I’ll pretend I’ve never shed them and we will carry on. Because we have to.
“Matilde Carrington has gotten engaged to Bruce Evans.” She mentions a girl Elise and I went to school with. “The wedding’s in September. Very quick.”
“She’s pregnant?”
My mother shrugs. “I’m not convinced. It would make sense if she was, but she was drinking heavily when I saw her last w
eek.”
We go through the gossip; the affairs, the divorces, the engagements and the wooers who were being rebuffed. We don’t talk about my father and she doesn’t ask if I’m okay because she knows I’m not and I know that she’s dying inside too because he’s been her soul-mate.
“William Goldsmith’s asked after you a lot.”
I don’t groan. I haven’t thought about the Prime Minister since I’ve been here, other than when he was mentioned by Voigt and then I tuned it out.
“Lennox wants you to be at a banquet he’s arranging.”
Which translates as Lennox wants me to soften up Goldsmith and make him more open to whatever Lennox is suggesting.
“I’m not a pawn.”
She nods. “I know. But Goldsmith worries me. I think you’re best manipulating him. Be nice. Play nice. Keep him hanging.”
“He may stick around waiting for whatever’s hanging to drop.”
“He may. He may be around long enough for someone like Elise to dive in there and he can make his own bed.”
“Maybe.”
She gets up, takes the glass. “I’m going to check on your father.”
My father. Her husband. The man we both love who is going to die.
“Mum.”
She stills.
“Are you okay?”
There’s nothing at first because she’s considering. “I have to be, Blair. Because life will still go on.”
As will my father’s legacy in my brother. Which is why I’ll attend Lennox’s banquet.
I’ll play the game.
That night, when Ben is in my bed and we’ve fucked a little more gently than normal, I curl up in his arms and tell him about my father.
“I’m sorry,” he says and strokes my back. “Your father’s a good man. I know you’re close.”
I feel the tears streak down my face and fall on his chest where I’m lying. “I can’t imagine him not being there. He’s stepping back from duties – I’ll be able to see him more, spend as much time with him as I can…” My body is wrecked by a sob.
Ben doesn’t say anything.
He lets me cry and holds me.
I don’t want my dad to die or suffer or be in pain. I don’t want him to go away and leave me.
I want this to be a dream that I can wake up from.
But it isn’t. None of us have that power.
Elise heads home a day later, but the guest suite doesn’t become empty. I see the island’s driver return with a dark haired man, one whose hair is curlier than I remembered but his stubble just as dark.
“Isaac!” My mother sounds pleased to see him, as if he’s a returning friend rather than the advisor to Goldsmith. My parents have known him for some time. His grandfather some connection to mine so I discovered, although he’s spent his youth and early adult life hidden in shadows.
I look up from my book, glancing at Ben who’s perusing a newspaper. He doesn’t seem surprised. Annoyance at the fact he hasn’t told me Isaac was joining us fills my lungs but I can’t vent.
Isaac’s dressed for the island in a plain collared T-shirt and linen trousers. His swarthy skin looks like it’ll turn the colour of leather after he’s been here for just two days.
“Maigread; Paden.” He greets my parents with their first names and I wonder when this happened and if Goldsmith is doing the same. “You both look well. Rested.”
“It’s the peace of this island.”
Ben turns a page of his newspaper. He hasn’t even looked up.
“Thank you for inviting me to share it. I need the break.”
It’s then I see the lines around his eyes and that beneath the swarthiness, there’s fatigue.
“I thought parliament had broken up for summer.” I also know that in reality it never breaks up. The summertime is when the informal deals are cut and politicians schmooze for what they need. It’s when scandals reign and summer madness needs to be cloaked in sensibility.
“It has.” He doesn’t say any more, his eyes land on Ben who looks up from his paper and the two make eye contact.
I’m spellbound and I don’t know why.
“Everleigh.” Ben stands up, offers his hand.
Isaac takes it. “Smith.”
“Good to see you.”
There’s that back clap than men do. And then that look again that speaks volumes in a language I don’t understand.
“Blair, why don’t you show Isaac to his room and give him a tour of the estate?” Mum mother speaks as a clock chimes the hour. Time for my father’s medication that is given in a darkened room. We’re coping by pretending it isn’t happening, burying our heads in the sand because if we talk about it, or cry together, it becomes real. We don’t want it to be real yet. He needs us strong, not broken fragments crying for our own pain.
“Of course.” I stand up, reaching for the kaftan to cover my bikini. The one Elise left for me.
I don’t feel just Ben’s eyes on my body. This time there are Isaac’s too, and I remember how we danced in the rain before breakfast. My nipples harden and the bikini I’m wearing is too thin and metallic to hide anything.
The kaftan hides little. Isaac follows me from the patio across the lawns to the guest suite, a detached two-bedroomed property that’s far enough away to give both us and our guests a sense of privacy.
“I’m sorry you weren’t told I was coming.”
We haven’t said anything since I stood up.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you. I need the rest. I’ll probably sleep for the next two days.”
“It’s been a busy time?” I hope his busyness hasn’t had anything to do with my brother.
“Very. You’d think the people chosen to run the country can manage to run their own lives, but that’s rarely the case. I think I’ve had about six hours sleep in the last week.” He gives me a watery smile.
“My advice - change, lotion up and find a sun lounger. Make the most of the weather and the lack of noise.”
He laughs. “Sounds like a plan. I know your mother suggested giving me a tour, but can we postpone? I need to shower and feel human again before I can compose a sentence that isn’t a complaint.” He stops outside the guest villa and faces me, his eyes are brown and full of magic.
I’m fucking another man. I shouldn’t be looking at Isaac this way.
“No problem. This evening would be a good time. I recommend sunset on the beach with a cocktail. Or beer.”
His laugh is happier now, not sarcastic. “You look amazing, by the way. The climate here suits you.”
“Thank you. I’m lucky.”
He gives a nod and I pause before turning, not able to look away.
He walks away first. Whistling.
The sunset is everything the day promised. The sky’s filled with oranges and reds, a smattering of black cloud as the evening enters.
There are only the three of us on this stretch of the beach, a private section belonging to the estate. Me, Ben and Isaac. We each have a drink, even Ben, who’s usually just on water, but none of us have words. An early dinner, because my parents prefer to eat early and Isaac’s planning an early night after travelling, and a quick plan to watch the sun fall below the horizon have brought us here.
The sand is soft between my toes and I’m debating a quick swim in the sea, given I have a bikini on underneath my sundress. No one’s expecting formal. No one’s been trying to impress Isaac. He’s here for a break, not to be impressed, although I’m still unsure how he was invited.
And I’m still unsure whether I can trust him.
I start to slip my dress off, a black bikini becoming exposed.
“It’s too late to swim, Blair,” Ben says.
I ignore him.
The dress pools on the sand and I run to the sea, ignoring his single call. The water embraces me as it does every time, lapping over my skin, the shock of the cold waking me. I dive into the waves and take big strokes into the depths of the wa
ter, then pin my arms by my sides and dive under, opening my eyes to the fish and coral. I can hold my breath for a while now, and I push myself through the sea, further out, knowing that I was chasing space.
We were outside, only us on the beach, but something felt claustrophobic. Too much isn’t being said. I come up for air, treading water. The sun has almost gone. A quick look towards the beach and I see dark seas, the lights from the land twinkling.
My scream breaks the silence of the night and I stun myself with its volume. Warm skin pressed against my back and arms encase me.
“Shhhhh.”
Ben. It’s just Ben. And Isaac, who’s now in front of me. Both are treading water.
I pull breath into me, kicking out to keep myself afloat even though Ben’s got hold of me. Indignance and rage hit me.
“I’m perfectly capable of swimming out here. Why the fuck…” I realise Ben’s naked behind me.
Isaac’s shirtless. The faint light that’s left lets me see the darkness of his features, his eyes glistening.
“We didn’t see you for ages, Blair.” His English accent isn’t that of a politician, especially now. “We watched you swim out and then you dived and didn’t come up.”
Ben’s hand is on my breast under the water. I don’t know if it’s purposeful or just because he’s clutching on to me.
“I’m a good swimmer.”
“I know.” Ben murmurs into my ear.
I feel his heart race against my back.
“But it’s dark and the ocean drops quickly here.” His hand is now under my bikini top, cupping my breast.
Isaac is watching us, watching how Ben holds me. There’s no way he doesn’t know Ben is more than my security lead.
“I know the ocean. I swim out every day.”
“But not at night. Don’t argue with me, Blair. I’m meant to keep you safe. Let me do my job.”
“Then if you’re doing your job, why is he here?” I nod towards Isaac.