Painted Faces

by L.H. Cosway

  “There,” he whispers. “All finished.”

  “Thanks,” I manage to croak out. He doesn't move from his position next to the tub as I lift my leg and take a soapy wash cloth to run over it. Before I know it, Nicholas is pressing his lips to the hollow of my neck and purring, “Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now?”

  I exhale and mumble, “Shut up.”

  “No,” he says, as he reaches around me and yanks the hand towel that had been covering my chest right off me. He grabs one of my breasts and moulds it with his hand, then pinches the nipple. I moan and when I turn to look at him he's standing up and pulling his t-shirt off over his head. He's just about to pounce on me again when there's a knock on the door of the suite.

  Nicholas groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Fucking room service would have to arrive at the worst possible moment.”

  “Go answer it,” I say to him, trying to pull myself together after that very brief moment of bliss.

  “Fine,” he grumbles, and leaves the bathroom.

  I quickly get out of the tub and dry myself off, before wrapping up in a bath robe. When I come out there's a tray with two covered plates and a bottle of wine on the table by the window. The member of staff who delivered the food is gone. Nicholas' gaze burns me. He's standing by the couch, devouring me with a single look.

  I make a move to go to the table where the food is waiting, but he cuts me off and drags me into the bedroom, throwing me down onto the bed. He hasn't put his t-shirt back on yet. He pulls my legs around his hips so that I'm straddling him and gently tugs at the tie around the waist of my robe.

  Before I know it the whole thing is open and I'm bared to him. He takes his time perusing my body and then begins planting little kisses over my breasts, murmuring words I can't decipher. I'm too lost in the sensation of his tongue as it snakes out around my nipple.

  Slowly, he kisses his way down my stomach and when he reaches my mound my breathing stutters. He looks up at me and grins. I strain beneath his hold, as he places his hands flat on top of my thighs. He looks back down, at the most intimate part of my body.

  “Prettier than I even imagined,” he whispers, just as he pushes my legs wider and touches his tongue to my clit, feather light.

  I let out a loud gasp that fills the room. A hundred tiny explosions go off inside my body. He begins licking me harder. I tangle my fingers in his hair and grip tightly. He pulls his head up to look me in the eyes again, and the expression on his face is evil.

  “That's it honey, hold onto me. You feel amazing against my tongue,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Fuck,” I bite out.

  “All in good time, Freda,” he promises, and then returns to licking. Jesus Christ. I've never had a guy do this so well before. There's no teeth or stubble with Nicholas, just soft lips and tongue. I close my eyes and push my head into the pillow as I feel an orgasm start to build deep inside of me. All I can see behind my closed lids are fireworks and shooting stars.

  He brings his thumb up to circle my clit as he kisses and licks. I'm just about to explode with the pleasure, but not quite, not yet. Soon.

  He reaches up then with both of his hands and massages my breasts. I look down at his head between my legs, his tongue going at me, his hands on my breasts and his eyes locked with mine. In that exact moment I fall part. I cry out his name, coming hard against his mouth. Several waves pass through my body.

  “That's it, so sweet Freda, so fucking sweet,” he says, watching me come.

  My body goes limp, and I smile to myself as I turn my head into the softness of the pillow, high off the chemicals of my own orgasm.

  “I'm going to feed you now,” he says, and leaves the room swiftly. What the hell? I hear him go inside the bathroom and turn on the tap. There's running water for a minute or two.

  Then the bedroom door opens and Nicholas carries in the tray with our dinners on it. Oh right. He's going to feed me. Makes sense. I pull on the robe to cover myself, and my face feels like an inferno is blazing just beneath my skin. Did that really just happen?

  Nicholas lifts the silver covers off the plates to reveal fillet steaks on a bed of sautéed mushrooms with a tiny dollop of mash potato on the side and some Béarnaise sauce.

  He slices off a piece of the steak, dips it in the sauce and raises it to my mouth. Okay, did he somehow figure out my ultimate sexual fantasy to be gone down on and then fed a five star quality meal? Perhaps it was just instinct. Or a lucky guess.

  I take the steak into my mouth and Nicholas smiles approvingly. He then slices a piece off from his own plate and does the same.

  “So, this must have been a special circumstance,” I say casually, referring to our conversation a few weeks ago about lady gardens when Dorotea had been leaving his apartment.

  He grins. “Your vagina is a very special circumstance.”

  I laugh loudly. “That's what I'm going to call it from now on, “my circumstance”. It has a nice ring to it.”

  “You come really beautifully too,” he goes on, his expression intense, as I'm taking my plate and placing it on my lap. “All little sighs and tremors.”

  I don't say anything, but I do breathe heavily as a deep red colours my cheeks.

  He puts his hand to my reddened face. “What's this for? Are you embarrassed? It might be wrong, but I find that to be a fucking huge turn on.”

  “It's very wrong,” I mumble, stuffing a forkful of mushrooms into my mouth.

  He laughs. “Eat up Freda, you're going to need your energy because I'm dying to fuck you.”

  I cough on the mushrooms and he pats my back so that I don't choke. He pours me a glass of wine and I gulp it back.

  “I don't think we have time for that,” I reply finally. “You've got to be at the venue for seven and your show starts at eight.”

  “It's only four, we've got plenty of time.”

  “You're going to make me die of mortification, Nicholas. Can we slow this down?”

  He eats a slice of steak and frowns at me. “If that's what you want.”

  I put down my plate and crawl over to him, taking his mouth in a soft, barely there kiss. I pull back and look at him. “It is. Thank you,” I whisper.

  He smiles warmly. “How about we snuggle up in bed and watch a pay per view movie?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I answer in relief.

  I think it's the anticipation of sex that makes me nervous. If he had of said nothing and just sprung it on me then I would have gotten caught up in the moment. The fact that he's giving me some warning makes me try to wriggle my way out of it.

  After we've finished eating we do indeed snuggle up on the bed. Nicholas picks out a movie for us to watch. It's some American comedy, but I can't find the will power to concentrate on it. I'm too aware of his body behind mine. He's sitting up with his back leaning against the head board and I'm sitting between his legs, my head resting just below his pecs.

  I turn my head to the side and plant a little kiss to his bicep, where it's all inked up with the tattoo of his mother. I shift my entire body to the side so that I can study it up close. I run my fingers over it.

  From all of the conversations we've had over the past few weeks, I get the impression that Nicholas idolizes his mother in some strange way. He mentioned something about her being the inspiration for him to sing and perform, since she was a performer herself. He also keeps a few of her dresses in his wardrobe, all tucked away and preserved like relics.

  I think the fact that I'm touching him is turning him on, because I can feel him slowly get hard behind me. It presses up against my back. With a surge of bravery, I turn around to face him before trailing my fingers over the bulge in his pants.

  “Fred,” he breathes, looking at me with fire in his eyes.

  “Don't talk,” I say quietly, as I zip down his fly and pull him out of his boxers. This is the first time I've seen his manhood in all its glory. I'm both impressed and daunted. I whisper my li
ps over the head before giving it a little lick. Nicholas exhales.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice strained.

  “Returning the favour, I guess.”

  “You don't have to. Fuck,” he swears, and I take him fully into my mouth. I keep my eyes open and watch him as he shifts his body and clutches onto the bedsheets.

  I move my mouth up and down the length of him, before swirling my tongue around the head, which seems to make him go crazy. Who is this brazen woman? I wonder to myself. Usually I'm all talk when it comes to sex, but here I am giving head to my boss/friend in a fancy hotel suite. Nicholas brings something out of me, something I never knew I had.

  I stop sucking him for a minute to run my tongue up and down his length. I keep my eyes locked on his as I do it, just liked he'd done when he'd been going down on me.

  Then I take him back into my mouth and he grabs a hold of my hair, wrapping it around his wrist firmly.

  “You're really fucking good at this Fred,” he groans.

  “I must be a natural,” I try to say with him still in my mouth.

  “Oh God, keeping doing that. Talk while you're sucking me, the vibration feels good.”

  I stop and glance up at him. “Why Mr Turner, are you asking me for a hummer?”

  He pulls on my hair, and it's just on the cusp of being painful, which feels really, really good.

  “Shut up and do it, you're killing me,” he mutters.

  I oblige him, making sounds at the back of my throat as I suck him off. A minute or two later he comes right into my mouth. I know that a lot of girls like to swallow, well, I'm not one of them. As gracefully as I possibly can, I let it drip out of my mouth and onto the bed and then I hear Nicholas groaning.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” he says in a low voice. “That has to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen.”

  “I thought men preferred it when girls swallowed.” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, like the classy lady that I am.

  “I don't know, there's something erotic about you spitting it out like that.”

  I laugh and slide up the bed to cuddle him. “We're going to have to call for the maid to come and change these sheets. I feel terrible now.”

  “Don't. I'll make sure to leave her a generous tip.”

  “Ever the gentleman,” I smile up at him and he runs his fingers over my lips.

  “Best blowjob ever,” he whispers.

  “Oh shut up.” I look away, embarrassed.

  He grabs a hold of my chin and turns my face so that I meet his eyes. “I'm serious, Freda.”

  I nod and grin. “Well okay then. I'm going to be feeling very smug with myself for at least the next fortnight.”

  “And so you should,” he says, fitting his palm around my neck and massaging it.

  I cuddle him close and shut my eyes. We just lie there like that for the next hour, soaking up the feel of one another.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Black Outs and Shopping Carts

  Nicholas' show that night goes off without a hitch. The venue ends up filling out nicely, perhaps because of all the effort we put in today out on the street doing promotion. The Polka Dot Twins show up just like they said they would, and towards the end of his set Nicholas calls them both up onto the stage to sing Tom Lehrer's “Masochism Tango” while he plays it on the piano.

  I didn't even know he could play until tonight; he never mentioned that he could. Back home he's normally accompanied by The Wilting Willows, so there's no need for him to play himself.

  Afterwards Nicholas gets changed and then we go with Bob and Bobby to the venue where they're doing their free show. For some reason they have a shopping cart with them and it's all decked out in cushions, with ribbons weaved through the metal bars.

  Bobby hops into it and Bob pushes her along, like she's a baby in a pram. Since most of the streets in Edinburgh are cobblestoned, I really don't see the appeal. It looks like too much of a bumpy ride for my taste. I guess it's a little quirk they feel the need to maintain, so that people can say, there go The Polka Dot Twins again with their modified shopping cart, the eccentric bastards.

  About halfway through their gig, which is in the upstairs room of a tiny pub, the electricity cuts out. It's eleven o'clock at night, so the entire place goes pitch black. Nicholas and I are sitting close to the window, and when we look outside it appears that the entire street's electricity has gone. For a few seconds I experience what complete and total darkness feels like, and it's slightly thrilling. Then people begin taking out their phones to use as sources of light. I do the same since mine actually has a mini torch function.

  “Okay,” says Bob, shouting from the stage since his microphone clearly isn't going to work at the moment. “It looks like there's been a power outage. Everybody stay seated and I'll talk with the manager to see what's happening.”

  He hops off the stage, illuminated by the accumulating light from the sea of mobile phones held by the people in the audience.

  Nicholas puts his arm around my waist, holding me close in the dark. He's been more tactile than ever tonight, and throughout his whole show earlier he kept on seeking me out in the audience where I'd been sitting with Bob and Bobby, looking at me with a little secret smile. I still can't believe that what went down between us earlier today actually happened. It seems like a dream, a really, really good one.

  We've been skirting around each other for weeks; I just never thought we'd actually get to where we are now. I thought we'd simply continue to tease one another with words and subtle touches for the rest of our sexual tension filled lives.

  He presses his lips to the side of my mouth and moves his hand over my thigh, before pulling me over onto his lap. The people all around us chatter with nervous excitement.

  What is it about power cuts that turns people into slightly more child-like versions of themselves? Suddenly you start getting ideas about breaking into sweet shops and stealing all of the candy. Without electricity the alarms won't be working, and therefore we will never get caught, mwah ha ha, the little devil on your shoulder urges you. It's funny how easily people will turn to law breaking when the fear of getting caught is removed.

  Nicholas' hand moves beneath the hem of the calf length black dress I'm wearing. He hitches up the material and runs his hand between my legs. When he reaches my underwear he presses his fingers hard against me.

  Breathing heavily, I whisper to him, “Stop it. The lights could come back on.”

  He smiles with mischief. “That's kind of the point.”

  “Don't,” I hiss, but he doesn't move his hand, and from the way his pressing fingers are making me feel, I don't want him to. Sparks and tingles consume me as I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from making any noises. His fingers move in a rhythm against me.

  A blissfully anxious minute or two pass, then Bob returns to the room and announces to everyone that there has indeed been a city wide power outage and therefore the rest of the gig will have to be cancelled. By this point Nicholas has slipped his hand beneath the material of my knickers and I'm coming in waves against him. He takes my mouth in a lazy, wet kiss, his tongue caressing mine.

  He pulls back and whispers, “Good girl.”

  It feels like my body doesn't have any bones, and I can't think clearly enough to say anything in response. Did we really just do that in public? I've had a couple drinks tonight, but not too many. Perhaps I'm just drunk on Nicholas.

  Bob and Bobby make their way over to us, and in the dim light I can see that Bobby has a litre bottle of vodka under one arm and her ukulele under the other.

  “We're going outside to have some fun in the dark before the power comes back on. Do you two want to join us?” asks Bob.

  “Sure,” Nicholas answers, pulling me up by the hand.

  We go downstairs and head out through the pub. Bobby silently takes a swig of the vodka before handing it to me. I take a gulp and then hand it back to her. God, it burns good.

  The girl
rarely utters a word. It's like Bob does enough talking for the both of them because he never fucking shuts up. I mean, I think he's cool and all, but he could do with shutting his motor mouth every once in a while. He's currently going on and on to Nicholas about how he gets great vintage outfits off Ebay for cheap.

  I walk side by side with Bobby, and it's kind of nice. We both know we're never going to see each other again after this one night, so we don't bother with any of the getting to know you girl chit chat. She repeats the pattern of taking a sip of straight vodka and then handing it to me. This is the last thing I can remember doing before I find myself drunk off my face, being pushed down one of Edinburgh's many steep, hilly streets in Bob and Bobby's cushioned shopping cart. Seriously, it's up a hill, down a hill almost everywhere you go here.

  Bobby is pushing the cart, while Bob and Nicholas run along just behind us. I look straight ahead as we gain a little too much momentum. Why the hell did I agree to this? Although since I can't remember how I got into this situation it could very well have been me who suggested the whole thing. Vodka does strange things to my IQ.

  We're going way too fast now, and all I can hear is the echoing laughter of the three people around me as I think, I'm going to die in a shopping cart when it inevitably crashes into either a wall or an oncoming vehicle.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as one of my knees bashes off the metal. Ouch. That's going to leave a bruise. The cart is going too fast as we near the bottom of the hill and Bobby loses her grip on the handle bar. The wheels bump against some cobble stones, causing the cart to become airborne, and for a few heart stopping moments I am sailing through the air in the dark, hurtling towards a busy road that's lit up with the headlights of moving cars.

  Before I can blink Nicholas has grabbed the end of the trolley with both of his strong hands and is swinging it around to stop me from crashing into a car. It bangs hard against the curb and comes to a painful stop. The cushions go flying and it seems like every part of my body is knocking against the cold metal. I'm going to be in a lot of pain in the morning, I think through my vodka soaked haze.