Change Partners

by Cathryn Cooper

  ‘Feeling his presence was like being warmed by a coal fire. All I felt was the heat of his body on my back. I knew he was studying me. I knew his eyes were running over me and assessing my shape and how my skin might feel; how I might respond if he touched me. Just being alone with him made me tremble with trepidation.

  ‘Once the door was closed, he moved closer to me.

  ‘‘‘Josie isn’t it?”

  ‘I replied that it was.

  ‘He didn’t say anything for a moment. He hung his head slightly as though he were examining the hole in the carpet. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and I remember thinking, “I wonder what he’s holding in them.”‘

  ‘What was he holding?’ asked Crystal.

  ‘Idiot!’ snapped Mariana.

  ‘Courage,’ Josie replied. ‘He was holding onto his courage. Dare he seduce me or not?

  ‘When he looked back up at me, he was frowning. He looked nervous and when he spoke he sounded gruffer than usual - almost as though he’d borrowed the voice from someone else.

  ‘He told me he was most concerned that I had not finished my assignment. He said he had expected better of me, that he had considered me one of the brightest butterflies in his class.

  ‘I thought it funny that he should use the word “butterflies” when imaginary ones were fluttering around in my stomach. I didn’t mention that.

  ‘I said I was sorry and that I would do better. ‘‘Will you?” He had sounded sad. ‘‘I will,” I cried, “I will!”

  ‘He shook his head mournfully. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said. “After all, you are only a butterfly.”

  ‘I didn’t know what he meant and it irritated me. I had to ask the obvious question.

  ‘‘‘Why am I a butterfly? Why do you call us bright butterflies?”

  ‘He straightened up and his eyes met mine. For the first time ever, I could not stop looking at him. No matter what I saw there, or thought I saw there, I had to hold his gaze. It was as if I were not just waiting for him to answer the question, but also challenging him.

  ‘He briefly chewed at the hair on his upper lip before he answered.

  ‘‘‘Bright butterflies flit from flower to flower. Their life is brief and their heads are empty. The only outstanding feature about them is that they are beautiful, but, as I have just said, their beauty is as brief as their lives. Once they are gone, there is nothing to remember them by.”

  ‘His statement made me angry. I protested that I was not empty-headed. I loved the subjects I was studying. I had every intention of being successful in whatever field I entered.

  ‘My breasts were heaving by the time I had finished. My face must have been flushed. It certainly seemed hot. Cado was staring at me in a different way now. His eyes ranged me from top to toe as if he were appraising me anew.

  ‘At last he spoke, but very slowly. “If you truly mean what you say, then allow me to take you in hand. I will ignite your brain. I will force you to learn and make you into more than just a butterfly. I will make you into a perfect human being. Will you agree to that?”

  ‘I had no idea what he had in mind, so I said yes.

  ‘‘‘First,’’ he said, “there is the matter of this dissertation.”

  ‘With a solemn expression on his face, he lifted up my dog-eared papers by one corner. Then slowly, and with the greatest deliberation, he tore up each and every page.

  ‘‘‘Now we will start again. I will instil in you the discipline you need. You will accept that discipline and, in doing so, you will grow in stature. In time you will begin to appreciate the atoms of artistic and mathematical merit that are in each and every person, each and every stone, plant, star and drop of water. Do you agree to this?”

  ‘I told him I did and it was then that my education truly began.

  ‘First I was to take off my clothes. He would remain clothed.

  “‘And then,” he went on, turning his back to me, “we will assess what you are in this mirror.”

  ‘I was trembling with excitement. This was a real man asking me to take my clothes off. The strange thing was that I did not feel used by him, or seduced. I felt I was getting the benefit of some truly monumental experience.

  ‘He turned his back on me as he positioned a long cheval mirror.

  ‘I caught sight of myself and blushed. I was surprised to see my reflection. There was something different about me to the person that had entered this man’s study. I could not define what it was, but I knew he had already started having a phenomenal effect on me.

  ‘I did as he asked, took off my clothes, and looked at myself again.

  ‘I didn’t question why I was doing this for him. I just stared at my reflection and told myself I was doing it for me and me alone. My flesh was tingling with a thirst for knowledge - not knowledge of ancient Greece, but a knowledge of my tutor’s body.

  ‘I never questioned the wrongs and rights of it. There were none. It was as done. It happened. I was naked, just as I really am beneath every item I have ever worn.

  ‘The cool smoothness of his corduroy jacket briefly touched my back when he came to stand behind me. I sucked in my breath and saw my nipples get bigger. I transferred my weight from one hip to the other and felt sweet wetness erupt between my legs.

  ‘This scenario was incredibly erotic. But of course it was erotic! How could it be anything else?

  ‘‘‘See?’’ he said as he placed his hands on my shoulders. “This is the real you, Josie. This is the flesh, this is all part of the butterfly. It is through this flesh that I will ignite your mind. When I have finished with you, you will see greater form, greater beauty and, ultimately, you will see perfection in everything you do.”

  ‘I hadn’t a clue what he meant. All I knew was that I wanted to please him in everything. I wanted to be his best, his brightest pupil. I wanted to see the world through his eyes - its artistry and its exactitude.

  ‘He took me by the hand and told me to bend over his desk. I did as he asked.

  ‘‘‘How does it feel?” he asked.

  ‘Somehow I knew what he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to know that I was frightened, aroused, or sickened by what was happening to me. He merely wanted to know what my reactions were to my surroundings and those things I was still in contact with.

  ‘I told him that the leather of the desk top was cold to my nipples. I told him my breasts were flattened against the desktop and its edge was nudging against my sex.

  ‘Besides telling him that the carpet felt gritty beneath the soles of my naked feet, I also told him that my belly was sticking to the desk.

  ‘‘‘And which part of your body is most in touch with the world around you, Josie?”

  ‘‘‘My mind?” I suggested.

  “‘Ultimately,” he replied. “But your mind is gaining perception through your naked bottom. Your buttocks are merely in touch with the air around them. Because of that it is sending more explicit messages to your brain than any other part of your body. It is telling your brain that it is vulnerable. After all, it is only logical that the roundness of a woman’s behind can attract a caress, a slap, or an act of buggery. So your mind is in tune with it... perfectly in tune.”

  ‘I closed my eyes as I lay there across that desk. He said sweet words. I can’t remember them exactly. All I can remember is the impression they left behind.

  ‘He spoke for some time before his hand ran down my back. I remember trembling as he fondled my bottom.

  ‘By the time he raised me up from there, my flesh was tingling. Full of admiration for this man, I gazed lovingly up into his eyes. I remember him smiling before folding his arms round me and holding me close. And, most of all, I remember the lumpy springs of the old settee beneath my bare behind, and him, once he had removed his clothes, pres
sing me down against those spiralling contours as he entered me.

  ‘The most amazing thing was that he did not touch my breasts or any other part of my body as he fucked me. Only his penis, his pubic hair and the outside of his thighs touched my body.

  ‘I understood what he wanted me to do. With my arms thrown over my head and my eyes closed, I was to concentrate only on the areas of my body that touched his. And I did concentrate.

  ‘Sex can never be the same with one man as another, and yet the differences are relatively slight.

  ‘With Cado it was completely different.

  ‘It’s hard to describe exactly what an orgasm feels like. It’s even harder to describe those initial shivers of apprehension as arousal becomes more intense, more urgent.

  ‘Behind the darkness of my eyelids, I truly experienced my climax taking over my body. Waves of pleasure crept over my skin. I’m sure I could also feel it creeping along just beneath the surface. On one level it seemed to be touching me lightly, no heavier than the caress of a bunch of peacock feathers. On another level it was causing my blood to boil and turn to steam in my veins.

  ‘When my orgasm came I shuddered but did not cry out. I held the experience within me. It had no sound because it had no form. It was part of me and would remain part of me forever.

  ‘Cado gave me that.’

  Josie smiled softly to herself. ‘I don’t care if I was only twenty and he was twice my age, he was one of the most enduring experiences of my life - perhaps the only one.’

  Chapter 13

  By the time Josie had finished her tale, the confident jut of Crystal’s chin seemed a little noticeable.

  ‘What a dark horse you are, Josie Clarkson!’ exclaimed Mariana, admiration hanging in her eyes like smudged ink. ‘Very interesting.’

  ‘Interesting?’ Mariana frowned as she looked sidelong at Crystal. ‘That’s a bit of an understatement, isn’t it?’ Crystal sat up very straight like she did when she was thinking of leaving.

  ‘I just meant that it was very interesting to hear something like that coming from Josie. I’m surprised.’

  Josie was eyeing Crystal speculatively, though Crystal did not notice.

  ‘That sounds a bit condescending. Why shouldn’t Josie have had a relationship with an older man? Are you saying she’s ugly or something?’ Mariana looked puzzled.

  Crystal flushed. ‘Of course not! Don’t be such an idiot! I only meant that I thought Josie was above that sort of thing.’

  Josie smiled that soft, secretive smile of hers. Her green eyes met the blue ones of Michael’s lover. ‘I have never been a nun, Mariana, and my period of virginal puberty was short-lived.’

  ‘Mariana is just making trouble!’ Crystal looked daggers in the direction of the smiling Mariana. ‘Ignore her. She’s being cowish!’

  And what are you being? Crystal asked herself. A fool? Up until this moment, everything had seemed so straight forward. Josie was - dare she say it - a mere shadow behind her dazzling husband. Wasn’t that why Michael was so besotted with his mistress? Crystal had pitied Josie and sympathised with Michael’s statement that his wife bored him. And of course she had done everything to exaggerate that contrast, to make herself more stunningly attractive and vibrant than Josie could ever be. In her! mind’s eye, not only could she see the slender Josie with her clothes off and hot as hell beneath the hands of her mature lover, she could also imagine her body against Michael’s.

  She’s lying, she decided. Josie is sexless; involved in her art and therefore in a fantasy world of her own making. She took a deep breath, followed by a sip of coffee. Change the subject, she decided.

  ‘Girls, have you seen that new designer shop down in Harrison Mews?’

  ‘Do you mean where the antique shop used to be?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Crystal brightly, and went on with unbridled enthusiasm to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go for the duration of her visit.

  Later, as she lounged in the bath with her breasts bare and a wet towel over her face, she had time to think about things in greater detail.

  She was feeling less guilty about screwing Josie’s husband, but she was more concerned with analysing why she herself had found Michael attractive in the first place.

  It wasn’t enough to imagine that wicked glint in his eyes, his lopsided smile, and the way his hair curled over and around the nape of his neck.

  Neither was it enough to recall how hot his body felt when he lay on her, his belly hard against hers, his chest squashing her breasts, and his hot, hard penis pushing between her legs.

  To analyse the reasons why, she had to go back and recreate each detail in her brain. To do that she must revert to the very beginning.

  Michael had been playing tennis when she’d first seen him. Sweat was running down his face, clinging in damp crescents beneath his arms. He glistened with it and, because of the way he looked, because the sun was strong, she ran her tongue over her top lip and tasted her own saltiness.

  Because he gripped the racquet so hard, the veins on his arms had stood proud of his muscles. Because he sprang so quickly and so resolutely to return the serve, his thigh and calf muscles had bulged beneath his tanned skin.

  When he took a breather, he had wiped the back of his hand across his brow and their eyes had met. He didn’t smile, but neither did she. She only knew, they both knew, that something had happened between them.

  From that very first glance, Crystal had decided that they would talk later, and that when they talked, each would confirm that they were thinking the same thing.

  She had crossed her legs as she sat watching him. Then she had uncrossed them, took deep breaths and leaned back in her seat so that her breasts thrust determinedly against her white shirt.

  He pretended he wasn’t listening or looking, but he didn’t fool her. He would have seen a flash of inner thigh and the whiteness of her cotton knickers.

  When he went back to his game, there was a new vibrancy to his serve, a certain flamboyant energy to the way he moved.

  He knows I am watching, she had thought to herself, and he wants to impress me. She remembered smiling smugly to herself.

  As a damp heat had gathered between her legs, Crystal had made no attempt to disguise her interest. She took in everything about him; the swatch of hair wetly plastered to his chest, the rippling prominence of his muscles as he leapt around the tennis court. She also imagined the heat of his body against hers.

  The sound of racquet whacking ball reverberated continually around the tennis court and the tall conifers beyond that.

  From the very start, it had been obvious that Michael was going to win the game.

  But the man at the other end, who she vaguely recognised as being her last but one bank manager, was playing for all he was worth. As he tried to ape Michael’s more agile movements, his thick, hairy legs landed heavily on large feet.

  He cried out in agony as he reached and swung his racquet in the hopes of hitting the ball. He missed and the game was over.

  Crystal had leapt to her feet.

  ‘Well done!’ she shouted. ‘Very well played.’

  He thanked her, then wiped the sweat from his face with a white towel. His gaze had fluttered back to her. ‘You move well,’ she said once he had come nearer, ‘Are you a good mover in everything you do?’ Temptation was in her smile. He saw it, caught it, and the message he threw back at her was every bit as provocative as hers.

  ‘Always. If ever you want to try me out...’

  ‘I might take you up on that.’

  After throwing him a winning smile, she had slowly turned and walked away, her hips swaying suggestively.

  I have him, she told herself as she tingled with sensuous excitement.

  Back in the clubhouse, still dressed in white sh
orts and clinging white halter-necked top, she sat on a bar stool, feet hooked beneath a rung, tanned legs gleaming. Slowly she sipped a long, cool drink. One should have been enough, but when it was finished and he had not reappeared, she ordered another one. She also ordered one for him and left it in a prominent place on the bar. How could he resist the misty look of the glass, the ice so tantalising among a sea of green lime and cool lemon.

  Almost as though she were willing him to appear, she had eyed the pale wood and gleaming brass of the double doors that led to the gym and the male changing room.

  The doors opened. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Not him. It wasn’t him.

  Next time it must be, she demanded. Next time.

  The brass of the door gleamed, blinked as it opened again and he entered.

  Their eyes met. Neither smiled.

  He looked sardonic, quizzical even.

  She looked alluring, as though she had every intention of seducing him.

  Even without her saying, he knew she was waiting for him. He walked straight to the bar stool next to hers.

  ‘For you,’ she had said.

  Eyes she could have died for looked into hers before he smiled.

  ‘Are you after something?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes. You.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you think I’m available?’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re not available. I’m going to make you wish you were available.’

  He laughed and she had liked the sound. ‘Enlighten me. How are you going to do that?’

  She had tilted her head so a shower of black hair had fallen provocatively over her shoulder and framed her face.

  ‘I’m going to seduce you,’ she’d replied.

  His mouth had dropped open. The hand that was taking his drink to his mouth jolted. Liquid was spilled.