Change Partners

by Cathryn Cooper

  His cries were lost in her mouth as his lips met hers and’ his tongue cruised over her taste buds.

  Desire demanded that he did not remain silent. The progress of her fingers would not allow him to.

  His penis pulsated as her fingertips touched the base of his stem. A contraction occurred between his legs that made him feel his balls were retreating into his body so that his penis might grow larger.

  Her breasts trembled in his hands. He cupped one and brought it to his lips. She mewed above him as his lips kissed her nipple, his tongue licking it as though it were indeed the ambrosia of the gods.

  Sucking at each breast in turn, he ran his hands down over her waist and found the fastening that held up her skirt. For a moment his fingers seemed to plait together in their rush to get the job done. He paused long enough to bring them under control then, with a new coolness to his movements, he undid that fastener and slowly began to push it over her hips and down her thighs.

  Kissing each inch of her flesh, Thomas slid himself down with the skirt until he was at last facing the thatch of red hair that he remembered so well from the tree house.

  Even now as he kissed and licked at her naked sex, he could almost imagine himself back there, her body girlish, naked and dappled by sunlight.

  He pulled all her underwear down with her skirt and smelt her femininity and the freshness of some gentle perfume.

  Closing his eyes, he breathed her in, drank the smell of her, the closeness of her and wondered - indeed hoped that she was as aware of what was happening between them as he was.

  While Thomas paid homage to her sex, Josie caressed the hardness of his shoulders, the firm chunkiness of his neck.

  With each rush of breath, she tasted the smell of him.

  With eyes lowered, she gazed at the darkness of his hair, raised her hand, ran her fingers through it.

  Just like before, she thought to herself. I feel the same way about him that I did before.

  As his tongue entered the beginning of her sexual divide, she threw back her head and reached for the hands that caressed her thighs.

  Drowning, she thought, must be like this. All thoughts, all strength ebbing away as the cool, brilliant green of the sea sucks you into its deep, dark currents. That’s what she was doing. Thomas was a deep, dark current sucking at her sex. The sea was her own sensuality and she was slowly drowning in it.

  There was a moment, a lull in the wonderful way their bodies moved one against the other as they made their way hand in hand to the bed.

  They didn’t exactly walk to the bed, they just seemed to go there, glide there, or even float to where the final consequence of their kisses, their passionate embraces would take place.

  Hunger was in her eyes, in her body, and she saw that same hunger reflected in him.

  There was no shallowness to that hunger. It was no quick snack, no hastily grabbed bite that was swallowed whole and soon gone.

  Shared famine resulted in a need for shared feasting.

  That, Josie told herself, is what we are doing. We are feasting on each other’s bodies with our hands, our mouths, and our genitals.

  There were still no words between them, no cries to cease, to give more, to say that this touch was better than that, or to say press here, squeeze harder, or caress more gently.

  Their hands and mouths explored all those zones that are said to respond more quickly and more intensely. Their eyes met intermittently and in understanding; unspoken messages that said it all.

  Still lying on her side, she raised her leg and folded it over his as his pelvis slid across the bed to butt against hers.

  The crispness of his leg hair caressed the softness of her skin as his hardness divided the curling hair of her sex.

  She mewed with pleasure; a thin, wavering cry as though she were frightened of this rigid pole that was entering her softness.

  Once he was in her, she arched her back as if she wanted his whole body to fuse with hers, not just his penis.

  She held him tight against her. She rained kisses upon his face and, between his gasps of growing demand, he heaped kisses back on hers. His hands, his fingers tightly gripped her backside.

  Don’t leave me behind, she wanted to cry, but didn’t. Determination that her orgasm should come at the same time as his made her shift her pelvis more vigorously.

  Her clitoris absorbed each thud of his loins. Higher and higher climbed an indescribable accumulation of stimuli, reflexes, tingles of sensation.

  As the first hint of climax began to run up from her sex, she pressed her cheek against his, her mouth an inch from his ear.

  Now came the time for her to tell him in small, short bursts of words that he was doing the right thing, that his timing was right, his action was right, his body was right.

  ‘Oh, no. No, no, no!’ she cried. ‘Yes. Yes. Give me more. Don’t stop. Keep going. Please... Oh, plea... se!’

  She thrust her hips against him. He clenched her bottom so that she stayed impaled on him whilst her clitoris throbbed its steady beat of pleasure throughout her sex.

  Like a river it ran through her. Wetness seeped from her vagina and spread over her inner thighs like a film of liquid sugar.

  Spasmed muscles held her position, suspended her climax.

  Thomas held her tightly against him.

  ‘I can feel you,’ he cried suddenly. ‘I can feel your body all the way down.’

  She breathed a little and, in that short moment, she sensed the tension of the body against hers and felt the pulsing inside her that told her Thomas had come too.

  Later they dined, drank the champagne and made love again and again.

  Cocooned by their love and the bedding, they lay tightly together, her leg across his.

  They’d left the curtains open. The mist had cleared so stars in the sky and lights from the houses across the bay dotted the blackness of night.

  The room faced east. Josie found that out in the morning.

  From behind the headland opposite, bright sunlight streamed uninterrupted in the hotel bedroom.

  Josie woke first, but even though the sun was bright, it was not the first thing to gain her attention.

  Dark hair against white pillow, Thomas slept on.

  She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. An overpowering feeling of love came to her. No matter what liaisons she had been involved in over the years, Thomas had been the boy and body she remembered best.

  Gently, so as not to wake him, she traced lines across his back from one dark mole to another.

  Glossy hair, almost black, curled around the nape of his neck. She touched it gently and smiled as she felt its silkiness against her fingertips.

  With the interest of an artist and the affection of a lover, she let her eyes follow the curve of his body beneath the bedclothes.

  Again and again she let her gaze drift up and down his sleeping form. There was a terrible need in her to store the way he looked to memory. The moment, too, was precious. That, like his body, must be indelibly marked on her mind.

  As if to confirm that all details were correct, she ran her hand down over the sleeping form.

  Thomas moved beneath her touch and muttered something unintelligible in his sleep.

  Josie smiled. She had no idea what he was murmuring about. She only surmised by the sudden movement of his body - the raising of his hand, his fingers on her, and the undulation of his hips - that she was the subject of this dream. She knew that if he could have spoken clearly, it would have been her name on his lips along with the one word that told her how he felt about her.

  Chapter 22

  ‘I want to talk to you, Michael. It’s time you told Josie about us, and I don’t want any more excuses.’

  The no-nonsense tone of Crystal’s voice on t
he other end of the telephone had disappointed Michael.

  There he was, looking forward to four days without his wife and with Crystal in his bed, and there she was insisting on him telling Josie that he wanted a divorce. He was glad to put the phone down and just wait for her to come over.

  As he had already planned, the wine was on the table, two glasses beside it, and the cork had been relegated to the kitchen bin. His body was honed, perfumed, and ready for action. A sizzling sensation covered his body just as completely as his skin and that old familiar ache was reminding him of what lay between his legs.

  Sighing impatiently, Michael poured some wine and drank it quickly as he sat on the settee. He tapped the glass with his fingers as he considered how best to handle the situation.

  He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes before Crystal got there. Ten minutes of time. Enough to get the words right.

  ‘But,’ he said out loud, ‘it isn’t going to be easy, Michael old chap. I need a good dose of courage.’

  On saying that, he looked at his wineglass. ‘That’ll do,’ he muttered, and downed the lot.

  He shook his head as if the wine would go down better and the words he needed to say might fall easily into place. The wine did go down, but the words did not come. He gave the bottle a steady stare before coming to a snap decision. ‘I could do with some more of that,’ he said, and poured himself another.

  He raised the glass to his lips but did not sip. He set it back on the table. As he stared at the dark, red fluid, he rubbed his hands together. They were damp with sweat and his fingers curled nervously into his palms. He rubbed them on his trousers, then sighed, rested his elbows on his knees, and clenched his hands together.

  His eyes continued to stare into the wineglass as if it were a crystal ball and could help him. The wisdom of the glass beckoned and overcame him. His hands flopped down and, before he knew it, he was again swigging at the wine.

  By the time Crystal let herself in the back door, there was only half a bottle left.

  ‘Having a party?’ Crystal asked, eyebrows raised, one hand gripping one hip.

  ‘Sorry.’ Michael swayed a trifle as he got to his feet. ‘I’m afraid I started without you.’

  Crystal flung her car keys onto a chair.

  ‘You can say that again.’ Her voice was sharp as scissors.

  Michael began to rub his hands together again. Judging by the icy blast in Crystal’s voice, their meeting was not going to be that convivial this evening.

  Be the old, bluff, breezy Michael, he told himself.

  He grinned in a boyish way that he’d been told women couldn’t help but fall for. He reached out and opened his arms.

  ‘How about going straight to bed?’

  Crystal glared.

  ‘How about you go stuff yourself?’

  Michael’s boyish expression crumpled.

  ‘Oh, come on, Crys. What’s the big deal? I didn’t mean to start drinking the wine without you. I just felt a bit lonely, that’s all.’

  Crystal stood with her hands on her hips. Michael winced and a frown came and went from his face. He hated it when women stood like that. It reminded him of Supergirl, or Catwoman, or some other dominant, female superhero. Dominant women were something he thought he could well do without.

  Her eyes were glaring - like a cat, he thought.

  ‘The big deal, Michael,’ snarled Crystal, ‘is that you’ve been deceiving me. Deceiving, Michael! “I can’t tell her yet,”‘ whined Crystal in a voice that was supposed to mimic his. ‘“I can’t hurt her. She’d be lost without me. She’d be devastated if she knew I’d been having an affair with you.” Bullshit, Michael. Utter bullshit! You and Josie have an open marriage and, before you deny it, it was Josie who told me about it!’

  Crystal’s face was now bright red.

  Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced at her, then steadied his gaze on the safer subject of the wine bottle. He shrugged. ‘Is that all?’

  Crystal’s cheeks turned redder.

  ‘All? What do you mean, all? In effect, my dear Michael, this means that we have not really been having an affair.’

  Michael frowned and, with his mouth open, he looked at her anew. This was not at all what he had expected her to say. ‘It’s all over, get lost, or drop dead,’ were the phrases that had come to mind.

  But she’s a woman, he told himself. Women have got a quirky kind of logic. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Sorry? I don’t understand. What’s the big deal about that?’

  ‘The big deal is, my dear Michael, that you’ve been lying to me.’

  Michael shook his head emphatically. Now it was his eyes that were blazing. ‘No, no, no! I haven’t been lying about anything. I just didn’t tell you the truth. It’s personal business. Mine... and Josie’s.’

  ‘Personal!’ Crystal’s voice seemed to hit the ceiling and echo off the walls. ‘Personal! You little shit. What the hell do you think we are if we’re not. personal? Never mind Michael and Josie, what about Michael and Crystal?’

  ‘I never...’ Michael spread out his arms, palms upwards, as he tried to explain.

  Crystal cut him dead. ‘Don’t give me your waffle, Michael. I’m not Josie - though neither is Josie. She’s no shrinking violet from what she’s told me about her sexual adventures. ‘

  ‘I never said—’

  ‘No. I know,’ interrupted Crystal. ‘You never said she was hot stuff, and you never told me the two of you had a special arrangement. But that’s not the point. The point is, Michael, there should be no problem whatsoever in you asking for a divorce. So why the delay?’

  Crystal set her jaw firm and folded her arms across her chest.

  Michael swallowed nervously and stared. Where was the hot little cutie whose hips went up and down like a yo-yo when his cock was in her? Who was this harridan that had replaced her?

  He shrugged pathetically as he tried to find the right words.

  ‘I... uh...’ The words didn’t come. He shook his head, then attempted to explain. ‘All that didn’t matter, Crystal. You see, whatever it was and whatever it wasn’t, my relationship with Josie has always been a partnership in the true sense. We both understood entirely why we were getting married. I needed a wife for my career, and she needed someone to bring home the bread while she pursued her art. We both had needs to fill, and we filled them.’

  He sighed heavily then, with sad eyes, he looked at her and shook his head in a mournful, regretful way.

  ‘We pursued our careers, and I pursued other women. That was the way it was.’

  ‘And Josie knew about these other women?’

  Michael nodded. ‘Yes. I had a need to have other women. One woman would never have been enough for me. I used to tell Josie all about them, right down to how we made love and how many times we had it. If we were in the mood for each other after I’d finished telling her, we’d make love ourselves, but it didn’t happen very often. That wasn’t really the point of the exercise. Josie was a good listener, you see. I liked telling her all about my women and my problems.’

  As Crystal listened, her hard expression began to change and the stiffness of her shoulders began to quiver. Her voice started to shake before turning to a sniffle. ‘You mean... you mean... you told her all about what we used to do together? All of it?’

  ‘Only about the others. Not us.’ Michael reached out to touch her. Crystal hit his hand away.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’

  ‘Crystal... please. That was the problem, you see. I just couldn’t find the words to tell her about you. I never ever mentioned to her that I was having an affair with you. You were the only one I couldn’t tell her about. You were different, and I couldn’t explain why you were different. That’s why it was so hard to tell her. It wasn’t just another seduction I was ta
lking about. It was you and I knew I felt something for you that I’d never felt for another woman.’

  Crystal stared at him through her tears. Her face looked a bit blotchy as she began to shake her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Please, Crystal.’ Again he reached out to touch her. She glanced at his hand as though in two minds to hit it off again; or as though it belonged to some alien being, someone she did not really know and didn’t want to know.

  But she didn’t hit it away. Instead, trembling with a fever that was directly linked to her contact with him, she let him hold her closer and closer, his arms gradually drawing her against his chest.

  Sobbing softly, she lay her hot cheek against his shoulder. His fingers caressed her hair and the warmth of his breath was soft against her ear.

  ‘You see, Crys,’ he said with a light chuckle. ‘You and me are two of a kind. We were made for each other, and that’s what’s so bloody frightening!’

  She raised her head. Her blue eyes looked at him through a wet mist of tears. ‘You’re a bastard, Michael.’ He grinned. ‘And you’re a right cow, Crystal.’

  She sniffed as she smiled. ‘Do you still want to go to bed?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Not bed. Let’s be a bit more adventurous about this. Let’s go out into the garden. It’s a lovely night. The neighbours won’t see.’

  He stepped back from her before offering his hand. It was as if he were giving her that space not only to decide for herself whether to go out into the garden with him, but also to re-evaluate whether she wanted to be with him at all.

  Eyes dry, confidence returned to Crystal’s seductive features. Here she was again, the old Crystal who could have any man she wanted but, at this moment in time - or perhaps longer - she only wanted the man she was with.

  ‘Well,’ she said in a voice as slow as the smile that spread across her face, ‘I’m not really the outdoor type, but for you I might make an exception.’

  She kicked off her shoes and bent her head to one side as he kissed her.