I knew with my cock so deep in her throat there was no way she could breathe so I began to pull back enjoying the way her throat squeezed to eject the foreign object out.
I kept my dick in the warm cave of her mouth while she took gasping breaths. When I judged that she had recovered I completely buried myself into her face. The slick capitulation, the depth of my penetration, and the total control I had over her served up a sensation that was like distilled pleasure. Something incandescent that pulsed down my length. I was coming and I was determined to hold as much of my cock down her throat as I could right through my climax.
As I began to shoot my load, emptying myself directly into her stomach, she began to make swallowing motions. Every spurt was a new wave of slick muscles running down my length. As the last few pulses hit my body I pulled out from her throat and filled her mouth with my remaining seed.
Before she could swallow it I used the extra lubrication of my cum to force my cock deep into her throat. Fucking her throat prolonged my ejaculation. Drops of semen and saliva escaped from around the corners of her lips and dribbled down her jaw. Her lips were slimy and her fine hair was glued to her cheek with my spill. Her breasts heaved. Tears from choking were set like jewels in her eyelashes.
She was every man’s fantasy come true.
I pulled out of her mouth and watched her lick her lips. She stood up, her lower face covered with my cream, and said, ‘Thanks for the drink, it was delicious, but…’ She took my fingers in her small hand and guided them between her legs. ‘You made my pussy wet.’
She was indeed wet. She was soaking.
I should have felt the sting of shame and guilt. How could I? I had never behaved in such an unprofessional manner before. I opened my mouth. I didn’t know what I was going to say—perhaps I was intending to apologize, even knowing that an apology was only going to make it worse—but she pressed my lips with her index finger.
‘Shh… Say nothing,’ she said, shaking her head slowly. ‘Nothing has changed. I’ll see you Wednesday at the agreed time.’
Then she was gone.
Ah, but, Lady Olivia, everything has changed.
18
Olivia
The earth laughs in flowers.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
After I left Dr. Kane I found it impossible to stay in London. All I wanted to do was go to his flat and let him fuck me, but I was afraid he would start to imagine that I was some kind of stalker. So when Ivana told me that she was sending around the car to take me back to Marlborough Hall in time for dinner I readily agreed.
I had ten minutes before I had to go and get dressed for dinner so I went into the conservatory and checked on the plastic pots where my flower seeds were germinating. I was putting on my gardening gloves when Ivana walked in.
‘Hello, darling. I wasn’t here when you came in.’ She kissed me warmly on my cheeks. ‘How are you?’ Her gaze was searching.
‘All right,’ I said quietly.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are your sessions with Dr. Kane coming on?’
I felt suddenly guarded. I could not let anyone know what had happened between Dr. Kane and me. It was my fault anyway. I had practically forced him. I took my gloves off, looked up at her and smiled. ‘Good.’
She smiled brightly. ‘Does that mean you are starting to remember things?’
‘A bit.’
Her smile faltered. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It just means that Dr Kane doesn’t want to push it.’
A slight frown was trying to form on her smooth forehead, but the Botox injections held firm. ‘What have you actually remembered?’
‘A few things. Nothing truly important. A birthday party. Walking up to the bell tower. Going to dance school.’
She was staring at me with an unimpressed expression.
‘They are little things,’ I said. ‘I know they sound unimportant to you because you have all your memories, but they are very important to me because I have nothing.’
‘I see,’ she said carefully.
‘The main thing is I feel really well.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘He hasn’t acted…in any way irresponsibly, has he?’
I could feel my cheeks becoming hot but I made my eyes large as if shocked. ‘Of course not.’
‘I hope not. Because I would be absolutely furious if he tried anything with you. I overlooked his past and gave him the benefit of the doubt, even though I was advised not to use him, because I trusted him.’
‘Ivana, I’m a grown woman. You don’t have to protect me as if I was a child.’
She looked slightly hurt. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to stifle you. I just can’t help it. You’ve always been so delicate. I’ve always felt responsible.’
I reached out and touched her hand. ‘Thank you. I know you want the best for me, but please don’t worry. Dr. Kane is a good man.’
She smiled suddenly, a bright Ivana smile. This one could melt icebergs. ‘On another topic, Wills is coming for dinner tonight.’
I cringed inwardly. No wonder she wanted me back. Wills, or William Henry Asquith the seventh, was the dullard son of a penniless duke who lived three miles away. It was always hoped that we would marry. He had the better title and I the money. To be perfectly honest I suspected he was a closet homosexual, but I knew she had gone to a lot of trouble to set up the dinner and I really didn’t want to upset her. Besides, my sister had said she would be there and I could always count on her to take the edge off a boring night.
‘That’s nice,’ I said politely.
‘Why don’t you wear your blue dress? The one with the sweetheart neckline that we got from Browns. It makes you look quite simply stunning.’
‘That’s a good idea. I will do that.’
She smiled with satisfaction. ‘Right. I had better crack on. It’s been a bit of a nightmare day and there’s so much to do. One of the horses foaled last night. Have to go and check how mother and son are doing. See you later?’
‘OK.’
She turned away and began to walk out.
‘Ivana?’ I called.
She turned around. ‘Yes, darling?’
‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I do really appreciate it.’
Her face misted over. ‘I’d love to do more. You are my daughter. Not of flesh, but of spirit.’
We smiled at each other and then she was gone.
Dinner was a dreary affair. It turned out that Daffy decided not to come after all. She went to a party in Fulham instead. Of course Ivana was a wonderful hostess, but Daddy couldn’t stop talking about the new foal. And Wills kept giving me puppy dog looks, which were irritating at best. It was even possible that he was plucking up the courage to ask me out. I invented a headache and excused myself early.
‘Do you want me to send Bertie up with some hot chocolate for you?’ Ivana asked, her face concerned.
‘No,’ I said, feeling really guilty. ‘Please don’t worry. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine once I take a couple of tablets.’
‘Goodnight, darling,’ she said with such feeling that I almost wanted to blurt the truth out to her. I was fucking Dr. Kane and I was missing him so much I couldn’t even bear to sit beside Wills and put up with his fumbling attempts to court me when I knew all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed with a man.
But I didn’t. I knew she wouldn’t understand. Ivana and all the people in my circle placed position and status above silly little things like love and emotions.
‘Goodnight.’
I went to my room and I lay down in the dark. For hours I tossed and turned and in the end I knew I had to go and see Dr. Kane. I got out of bed, dressed, left Marlborough Hall and nervously drove down to London. I hardly ever drove since my accident.
I rang on Dr. Kane’s bell at two in the morning.
Marlow
I was lying on the sofa, music muted right down, and dreaming of Olivia when the d
oorbell went. For a second my brain went blank. I glanced at my watch. Who the fuck was ringing my bell at two in the morning? Kids? A drunk at the wrong address? It rang again. I didn’t even think I expected anyone to reply when I said, ‘Yeah?’
‘Dr. Kane,’ she said and I froze. For a few seconds there was silence and then her voice said again, ‘Dr. Kane?’
I came to like a sleepwalker waking up. ‘Yeah, come up,’ I said.
I stood at the closed door and listened to the sound of her heels on the stairs. Then I opened the door. She stood at the second step of the stairs and looked at me with those huge eyes.
‘Come on in then,’ I said softly and she walked up to me. I stood aside to allow her to pass through. She had changed her perfume. It was subtle, expensive, mysterious. Exactly what I would have chosen for her. I closed the door, caught her by the arm, whirled her around and set her against the door. She looked up at me with wide eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’
Her seductive mouth moved. I could feel my blood heating up. My cock stirring, hardening. I stared at her, mesmerized.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said.
We stared at each other. I couldn’t sleep either.
‘I can’t,’ I said, my eyes moving from her mouth to her eyes and back to her mouth. Her chest was heaving. ‘Fucking resist you,’ I said, and grabbing both her hands, pinned them over her head.
She opened that plump mouth to say something and I crushed it with mine. She made a strangled sound. I slipped my tongue into her mouth. My free hand found the buckle and the zip at the back of her skirt. I slid my hand across the crotch of her panties.
‘You’re so fucking wet.’
I pushed the material to one side and plunged a finger deep into her pussy.
She moaned and arched her body so her breasts pressed into my chest.
I rammed two fingers in. ‘Is this what you came here for?’
She closed her eyes and shuddered. ‘Yes.’
I took off her top. The little half-cup bra I just pushed down. I bent my head and bit the rosy nipple.
‘Dr. Kane,’ she whimpered.
‘My name is Marlow.’
Her eyes fluttered open. They were dilated and smoky with desire.
I added a third finger into the mix.
She leaned her head back against the door and moaned. I pulled my fingers out and slid my track bottoms down my hips. My cock sprang out hard and ready. I lifted her right leg and draped it around my hips so her sex opened up all swollen and wet and hungry. Her clit was engorged and extended. I pinched the hood, pulled it back and exposed her center, small, white, über sensitive and mine. I wanted to suck it. But not yet. Now I was too riled. Too desperate to be inside her.
I grabbed her right thigh and held it so she could not move and I impaled myself on her. It was urgent and merciless and without warning. She screamed. I didn’t stop. I continued to push myself into her until I was balls deep.
I fucked her so hard her body jerked like a puppet. Watching her utterly powerless as she writhed and groaned and slapped into my body was addictive. I loved to see her in that position. Totally open to me. Vulnerable. Totally dominated. I felt Herculean.
‘Oh fuck,’ I growled.
I could feel my orgasm coming so I reluctantly pulled out of her and jerked off all over her blonde curls. Still panting I looked at my handiwork. Like water droplets caught on a spider’s web the milky white drops were all over her. With my hand I streaked it into her skin and gathering some in my fingers held it a few inches from her mouth.
We stared at each other. Her lips were trembling. She leaned forward and I pulled my fingers back and she leaned farther forward and caught my fingers in her mouth. We stared at each other as she sucked my fingers clean.
‘My turn,’ I said and got down on my knees. I threw her thigh over my shoulder and, burying my face in her pussy, slid my tongue into her and lapped at the dripping walls. She grabbed my shoulders and thrust forward desperately. I moved my head back.
‘That’s right, babe. Ride me,’ I encouraged lustily before plunging my tongue back into her throbbing sex. While I fucking devoured her flesh she rocked her hips on my mouth and teeth until she came with a piercing shriek and a rush of goose bumps.
Olivia
We went into his bedroom. More like a monk’s cell. Bare walls, a plain double bed, cheap scratchy sheets, a cupboard and two side tables. He sheathed that incredible cock of his and took me while I was on my hands and knees. It was wild and violent and magnificently beautiful. I tried to catch my breath, but our climax sucked us into a vortex of ecstasy. I shuddered uncontrollably. And when it died away my breath was ragged. I fought back sweet tears, but they would not be checked. The carnal smell of our coupling enveloped us like a fog. He touched a tear glimmering on my lashes wonderingly.
‘You’re so beautiful.’
I couldn’t tell him I was sorry he had not deposited his seed in my womb. That it had not coated my insides and grown into something.
I realized it then. He was my journey home.
He pulled out of me. ‘We have to talk,’ he said.
‘No, we don’t. Let it be just sex for a while. I know it will all probably unravel when you tell me whatever it is you are hiding from me, but for now I’m happy with this. I am asking for nothing more than what I have now.’
‘Oh, Olivia. What a mess I have made of this whole thing.’
‘It’s not your fault. I forced myself on you. And I don’t regret it. Whatever happens I will never regret this.’
He took off his shirt and I saw what I had not noticed the other evening at the office. Located on his fabulously muscular pecs, just over his heart, were two white ink tattoos in the shape of teardrops. They were not beautiful. Not in the least. They reminded me of scars, raised, white and born of pain. I reached out a hand and touched one of them. He flinched, then became still. I looked up at him, my hand hovering in the air. His eyes were deliberately blank.
‘Who are they?’ I asked, but even as the words formed in my throat I already knew.
‘My children.’ He looked down at the tattoos. ‘That’s Roxy and that’s Rick.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about them.’
‘Yes, so am I.’ All the light leached out of his eyes.
‘They were very young, weren’t they?’
‘Yes, Roxy was five and Rick was four.’ And he looked so bleak and wretched I wanted to hold him tight.
‘Oh, Marlow.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘It was another lifetime. I’ve learned to live with it now. I’m all right.’ And then he sank onto the bed and, running his hand through his hair, sighed sadly. ‘It’s OK,’ he said again, as if he was not talking to me but comforting himself even though he knew it could never be repaired.
‘Will you tell me about them?’ I asked.
He looked up at me, his beautiful, kind eyes pained. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. Not yet.’
19
Marlow
We depart with a thousand regrets in our hearts.
—Omar Khayyam
After Olivia left the next morning I went into the top shelf of my cupboard and brought out the envelope that was there. It was only two years old but it was gray with use. I had read it so many times I almost knew it by heart. Each word burned into my mind and still smoking after all this time. There were four pages to the letter. I opened them. The creases were so ingrained, they were soft and powdery, the ink gone from them.
I stared at the first page.
Her writing: neat, controlled, small and familiar. So familiar. Oh! Maria. I remember she used to write me love notes and put them into the lunchboxes she insisted on making for me. They wouldn’t say much…
I’m wearing no panties. When you come home, come find me, and without saying a word fuck me. xMina
Or it would say…
When you eat these corned beef sandwiches, just remember I t
hought of you while I was spreading the mustard and I will think of you all day until you return to me and spread my legs. xMina
But she had not left her last letter to be found by me. She had posted it. It arrived a day after the ‘incident’. At that time I was so shocked I read the whole thing twice and could not understand anything.
For days afterwards I had stared at it without any real comprehension. I mean, I understood the meaning of every word and I got each sentence when taken separately, but as a whole, in context: what the fuck was it all about? What the hell was she going on about?
Then I would think of her buying that grenade. I mean, who does that? Who blows themselves up with a grenade? People gas themselves in the privacy of their garage or take sleeping pills or slit their wrists, and the really scary ones launch themselves off buildings, but grenades? Wow! And afterwards, buying all those gas canisters just to make sure that nothing worth saving would come out of her bonfire.
If total annihilation with an audience was her intention she certainly succeeded. I saw it all happen in slow motion: the explosion, red first, then blossoming into orange, the middle turning white, then back to orange and red. Then smoke: thick, black, acrid smoke. I had lain on the ground and watched the car’s doors fly away, the glass shattering outwards and upwards, while all around me fiery debris rained from the sky. Roxy’s shoe was the hard part. The way it landed next to me, charred and heartbreakingly small.
Like a taunt. See, how powerful I am.
I used to stare into the bottom of a glass of whiskey and replay the memory of her, as she was the day before she died, chewing on an apple, laughing, an almost sublime expression on her face, as she watched me playing with the children. How could a woman wearing such an expression be thinking of ending it all the next day?
There had been nothing. Nothing to tell me she was unhappy, upset, or standing on the verge of committing suicide and taking our children with her. It was the most perplexing, shocking thing. Finally, I phoned her best friend.
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