SEVEN DAYS

by Silence Welder

  Andre raised Maggie’s little skirt roughly with both hands and then pulled her knickers down.

  “We shouldn't be watching this,” Judy mouthed several times until Mark got what she was saying.

  He responded with another shrug.

  “Why don't you do a sketch?” she whispered, unable to hide from her jealousy now. “It will last longer.” His interest in Maggie was obvious.

  He appeared to be taking Judy seriously, because a faraway look came over his face, only he didn’t have a camera, nor a pen or pencil.

  Judy made an effort not to look up, but Maggie's sighs drew her attention.

  Andre appeared to be holding his cock and guiding himself into Maggie, who was pushing against him, bouncing gently, reaching between her legs to masturbate and make herself wetter.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s it. That’s it. Put it in me. Go on.”

  She yelped as Andre inched himself inside her, being very careful.

  “You’re enormous,” Maggie said, laughing, and continued to masturbate furiously while Andre swayed gently back and forth, spreading her, opening her.

  Maggie raised her head and stopped playing with herself, satisfied that he was inside her. There was a clang as her rings clashed against the ledge in front of her and she let her head fall back, her long black hair dangling free.

  Andre increased his rhythm and she began to groan. She seemed to disappear mentally in that moment and Judy related to that feeling, that ability or perhaps even necessity, to let go and think of nothing, not even the pleasure. The sensations overtook the body and mind, at once claiming them and swatting them aside.

  Andre had his hands on Maggie’s hips now, staring at her ass as he pushed inside her. He made very little noise. His breathing was more rapid, but that was all.

  Gradually his strokes became thrusts and Maggie’s groans became whimpers. She put her head down, taking the pain and the pleasure in whatever balance it presented itself.

  “Don’t come,” she said a minute later.

  “Hah? What?”

  “Come in my arse,” she said.

  Andre slid out of her.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking at his cock and then giving her ass a sideways look,

  Mark stifled another laugh then, his shoulders shaking.

  Maggie bent low and began playing with her anus.

  Judy looked away, because this was too much, too voyeuristic.

  Mark, however, was lost in the moment. His eyes were soft but absorbed. His expression was that of an observer analysing what he was seeing.

  Judy wondered if he’d be thinking of this the next time they made love, if they ever made love again, if Andre and Maggie ever got them back to the house.

  “Do it,” Maggie said and Andre tilted his head, as if to say: Okay then, you asked for it.

  Maggie kept playing with herself and Andre kept pushing his pelvis towards her ass, stroking her back and her neck, playing with her ass, reaching between her legs and using her wet folds to lubricate himself.

  Eventually Maggie began murmuring to herself. He was partly inside her at last. They took it very slowly.

  Judy couldn’t help watching. She wanted to see everything that Mark saw.

  The couple looked as if they had both had sex this way before. It was something that Judy had tried only once and not with the most success. Maggie and Andre seemed to have it down though and were soon in a rhythm with each other that increased gradually in pace as Maggie became more comfortable.

  Judy observed that Andre was remarkably in tune with her and wondered if that was because he was less desperate for Maggie than he had been for her, or because he was more in tune with Maggie than he’d been with her.

  Maggie winced and tapped her fingers against the ledge, still not entirely comfortable with her penetration. Andre slipped one big hand around her throat from behind and Maggie succumbed immediately, throwing her head back, and then moaning for him to fuck her.

  Judy watched as Maggie gave herself to him. Having thought that what the two was doing amounted to animal rutting, she now changed her mind. Sure, there was a place for rutting, but that wasn’t what was happening here. Maggie arched her back, changing the angle of penetration and Andre groaned, the two of them loving it.

  He slipped a finger into Maggie’s mouth and she sucked it as though it was his cock, taking it deep into her mouth, pouting, making a lot of noisy wet kisses and sucking sounds to turn him on.

  At that moment, Judy wanted Mark as much as she’d wanted him all day. She didn’t know that she’d be as bold as Maggie, demanding anal sex, but she certainly wanted him behind her with his hands on her shoulders, in her hair, around her throat even.

  Maggie’s voice became shrill. Her shrieks filled the bus and Judy hoped that they were parked far from civilisation, because if anyone came exploring or called the gendarmes, then not only would Maggie and Andre be exposed, but she and Mark might have to give themselves up too.

  Maggie wailed, high-pitched and joyful.

  Andre was fucking her hard. His hips were moving very fast and Maggie stopped responding. She was simply open-mouthed with silent pleasure.

  Andre roared like an animal and snapped something in French, still slamming into her. Maggie began to moan again, repeating the same sound over and over, drawing it out, like a machine winding down.

  Andre, who had a handful of her hair at this point, took hold of Maggie’s hips instead and slowed his pace, shortened his strokes.

  They rocked together, gently.

  When Andre pulled his cock from Maggie, making her whimper in the process, Maggie immediately turned on unsteady legs and dropped to her knees in front of him. She put his cock in her mouth and began sucking.

  “You are unbelievable,” Andre said, eyes closed.

  Maggie stroked his cock and sucked him at the same time, cleaning him and draining him of cum. She sucked as if she was trying to turn him inside out. This was an act of single-minded devotion.

  Before she was finished, Andre lifted her to her feet and they kissed again, not long and deep, but in short, sharp bursts, like cubs taking play bites at each other.

  Maggie put her hand on Andre’s barrel chest.

  “I need a beer,” she said.

  Please, God, don't let them fall asleep in front of the exit, thought Judy.

  Maggie used the edge of a handrail to pop the caps off two bottles of beer. They clinked bottles and then made small talk for a while about Trignac and the bars in which Andre worked and the weather in the morning compared to that at night. Their manner was easy, as if now that they had had sex they could relax with each other. Now they could be real. Now they could be themselves.

  They opened another beer each and then another and their conversation continued, winding down various alleys and finding dead ends and trying again, still easy and non-judgemental.

  Judy massaged her temples, exhausted. She was also terrified that she could feel the onset of cramp in one of her legs and would not be able to help but scream out loud if it manifested. She was thus occupied until she heard Mark's name mentioned.

  As before, Andre was saying what a great guy he was. He told Maggie that he couldn't show his face at the house at the moment, because they'd had a disagreement, but that it was entirely his fault. Mark, he said, never did anything wrong and he was an unreasonably kind guy.

  Maggie was agreeing that there was something about him and that she'd never been on a course like this. With anyone else, she said, it might have fallen flat, but with him, she had been moved. He had a way of getting the best out of people.

  “He sees through my bullshit,” Maggie said, laughing.

  “Me too,” said Andre. “He always has.”

  Silently, Mark breathed on his fist and shined it on his shoulder.

  “He’s not all that smart though. I think he's fucking that stuck-up bitch with the straight hair and no body,” Maggie said.

  She means me! t
hought Judy. No body?

  “No way,” said Andre, not as an exclamation, but as a matter of fact.

  “What do you mean 'no way'?” Judy said out loud and Mark shot her a warning look.

  “Did you hear that?” Andre said.

  The bus fell silent. Judy had never been so still in her life. She clung to stillness, knowing that it was the only thing that would preserve her dignity at that moment.

  “How many beers have you had?” said Maggie. “You’re hearing voices. Can you even drive?”

  “That's a good point,” said Andre. “I should drive us home while I still can.”

  “Okay,” Maggie said. “Get to it, big boy.”

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled up at the house and risked another beer each. Maggie downed hers quickly and said:

  “I've got to go pee. I'll see you around.”

  “It was a pleasure,” said Andre.

  “Come back to class,” Maggie said. “I've not finished your portrait.”

  “I don't know,” said Andre, clearly wanting to her to encourage him.

  “Sort it out with Mark,” Maggie said. “Whatever you've done, he'll understand.”

  When they were gone, the first thing Judy said to Mark, aside from a few choice swear words, was: “She's right about you and Andre, you know? But maybe you need to make the first move. He worships you.”

  “Maybe,” said Mark, crawling out from under the seat.

  “And it was my fault,” said Judy.

  “We don't have to go there,” Mark said.

  “I want to,” said Judy. “I was trying to make you jealous. In fact, thinking back, I think I was even trying to push you away. I think I wanted you to see us, because I was afraid. I was afraid of how much I….like you.”

  Mark offered Judy his hand and helped her up.

  “They've gone,” Mark said. “We'd better go before we get caught.”

  As they got off the bus, however, Judy couldn't resist asking one more question.

  “Why did you choose Maggie to come on the workshop? What did she submit to you?”

  “Herself,” said Mark. “She’s very dedicated.”

  I knew it, thought Judy, but she was surprised by how quickly he admitted it.

  “Or rather, she submitted her skin,” added Mark. “That tattoo is her self-portrait. It's a skeleton, covering about half of her body. A drawing of herself, drawn on herself.”

  Maggie had bled to get on the course. That was dedication.

  “It's still weeping in places,” Mark added. “It's pretty gross, actually.”

  “How much of it have you seen?” Judy asked.

  “Most of it,” said Mark.

  “Seen a lot of her, haven't you?”

  “I was on the judging panel and this is a residential art retreat. Yes, I've seen a lot of her.”

  “That's not what I mean and you know it.”

  “I don't know where this is coming from,” Mark said.

  “Then I'll give you some time to think about it. Alone.”

  She turned on her heel and strode away.

  She didn't look back until she reached the entrance. He was no longer visible.

  You fucked that one up, she told herself, but she wasn't listening to herself.

  Instead, she marched up the stairs and entered her room, heedless of the fact that Maggie would be there.

  As it turned out, however, Maggie hadn’t gone up and so Judy was able to throw herself on her bed, emotionally exhausted and scream into her pillow.

  When she pulled her head up, she had tears in her eyes.

  When she comes in, she thought, I'm going to have it out with her. Why did this have to turn into a competition between me and her? Couldn't I just be happy? This once?

  She had time to compose herself. She made herself a cup of tea and drank it. She tried to get a nap, but was unable to sleep.

  Still, Maggie hadn't returned to the room.

  So where is she?

  As the minutes ticked by, she saw the error of her thinking. It wasn't Maggie she needed to have it out with. It was Mark she needed to talk to. Once again, she'd slammed an imaginary door in his face as a result of her own fears and suspicions. She just couldn't accept that someone as great as Mark could love her as much as she loved him.

  Ten minutes later, she had her hand on the door knob of Mark's door, but forced herself to wait when she heard Maggie's voice inside.

  “I know you want me,” Maggie was saying. “What's the big deal?”

  A pause.

  “Why not??” Maggie whined.

  Mark's voice then. Low. Gentle.

  “Then what is it?” Maggie said. She sounded drunk, slurring her words. “What does she have that I don't?...What do you see in her?...Why her?”

  That's what Judy wanted to know. She'd have given almost anything to hear Mark's reply to that question. Anything but being found lurking with an ear against his door.

  “You drew her. I know that's her. You're a good artist, Mark. Of course, it's her. Draw me the same way. I can keep my clothes on. I just want you to look at me the way you look at her. Just once.”

  Heavy footsteps approached the door and Judy shrank back, but then she heard Mark's voice.

  “Okay,” he said. “I'll draw you.”

  He was quiet then. It was Maggie's voice that filled the silence.

  “You're so damn hot,” she said.

  And: “It's hot in here. Can I just take this off?”

  And: “You know, I think you need to get your brush wet. No, wetter than that. I’ve got just the thing.”

  And: “You like this? How about this? I could sit like this? I could sit like this for hours.”

  Judy couldn't stand any more. Why was he indulging her? He should have just kicked her out.

  Rather than return to the oppressive silence of her room, she went outside and walked around the courtyard. It was cool and did a little to soothe her, but not enough. Nothing could. Nothing but Mark could appease her and he was obviously otherwise indisposed.

  Two more days, she thought. I've just got to get through two more days and then I'll be home.

  The thought depressed her and she sat on a rock with her head in her hands waiting for the feeling to pass.

  It was perhaps an hour later that she finally dragged her exhausted body back inside, but before taking the stairs, she passed by Mark's room. At first it seemed all quiet inside and she thought that whatever the situation had been, it had resolved itself, but then she noticed heavy breathing and, for the second time that night, the sound of Maggie's yelps and her guttural groan of pleasure.

  Judy tumbled away from the door, as if burnt by it, and she made her way back along the corridor, passing her hand against the wall to steady her.

  For some reason, she thought that if she could just get to her room everything would be okay. Small steps. Room. Taxi. Hotel. Airport. Flight. She could do that.

  She let herself into her room and slammed the door behind her, her entire body shaking, tears hot in her eyes.

  “Hi,” said Mark, “I'm glad it's you that burst in.”

  “What the hell!? What are you doing in here?”

  He was sitting on her bed. It was the first time that she had seen him in her room and yet now he looked perfectly in place, as if the room had been built around him.

  “Maggie turned up at my room,” Mark said. “She's drunk. I called Andre to help me throw her out and he took over. I'm hiding up here.”

  Ahhhh.

  “I heard you,” Judy admitted. “She asked you to paint her.”

  “That's not all she asked me to do,” Mark said.

  Judy looked mortified.

  “But I'm here, aren't I?” Mark said.

  She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off the bed.

  “I'm sorry,” Judy said and kissed his face. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about?” Mark said.

&nbs
p; “Maggie asked you what you see in me,” Judy said. “I'm wondering that too. I’m wondering what it is we’re doing here. Where is this going to lead? Nowhere?”

  He cupped her face with his hand.

  “We don't need all the answers tonight,” he said. “We have time.”

  “Do we?” she said. “The course ends on Saturday. I fly back on Saturday night. What happens then? You're an international, jet-setting artist.”

  “Hardly.”

  “I saw some of the letter headed paper in your room. You've been asked to open a gallery in London, and to teach at the Tate. You're double-booked for conferences in Paris and Berlin.”

  “Really?” Mark said.

  “And I'm an office girl from Walthamstow. Where Maggie got the idea that I'm stuck-up, I don't know. I'm nothing.”

  “Don't say that.”

  “We're from different worlds. I thought you were just some guy working in an art gallery.”

  “I am.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don't. I'm the same guy and I do work in art galleries. Without them, I’d have nowhere to exhibit. You keep breaking my nose by slamming doors in my face, but it's still me each time you open up again.”

  “I'm afraid of making a fool of myself,” she admitted.

  “Get over it. Or get it out the way. We can be fools together.”

  “I don't want to be hurt again. I couldn't stand it.”

  “I won't hurt you.”

  “You can't promise that.”

  He didn't push. He waited, sensing that she hadn't finished speaking.

  “Mark, it's been an amazing week, but what we're doing can't last. I need to get my head round that. And I think it's better that I do that now. It's how I operate.”

  “It doesn't need to be over,” he said.

  “It already is,” she said. “You're so free. I never know what you're going to do from one moment to the next and neither do you, but I can't live like that. Not long term. I have a special diary for my chores and I tick them off as I go along. It's colour-coded. We're just not compatible.”

  “You're right,” said Mark. “That is kind of weird.”

  “You've got all the girls after you. If it's not Maggie, it will just be someone else. Someone beautiful and creative and free. One girl after another, throwing themselves at your feet.”