They stared together at the centre of their universe, at the relentless pistoning that moulded the three of them into one. Gradually, their movements accelerated, and still they could not take their eyes away. Their climax hit them like a whirlwind, crushing them together in one ecstatic vortex.
They lay together intertwined, still wrapped in goodness. There were tears in Sonya's eyes, and she pressed against Pat's cheek. “God, how we love you, girl! You must stay with us for ever and ever.”
* * * *
Priscilla lay in her bed in the dark. Alone. Sleep was impossible. In the silence of the night, the events of the last day of the hearing ran through her mind again and again.
While the last story of Foreign Affairs 1 was read, she finally admitted to herself that she had lost the case. The realisation was forced onto her. Sitting on the other side of the footlights in absolute silence was a whole cinema full of people. Presumably ordinary people, devoting all their waking attention to a short story being read out. She could dimly make them out through the glare of the lights. Men, women, couples resting against each other, all completely absorbed in an erotic event. That alone would have been enough to convince her that she was out of step with the feelings of normal people.
But there was more to the awakening reality than just watching other people. She found that she, too, was being seduced by the soft male voice reading of love and sex in an Australian mining camp. She found that she cared for the people as if they really existed. Thinking about it, they probably did exist, and the male part of the trio was probably sitting almost within touching distance of her. She had looked across at Trehearne. He was relaxed and expressionless. The story moved on slowly, and Priscilla found some part of her vibrating in sympathy with it. A tension built up in her tummy and from between her legs her sex sent restless messages. From the audience came a stifled cry. A woman had anticipated the climax of the story. No one looked round for her, and the sound blended into what they heard from the stage. Priscilla heard more background noises, and from her vantage point she saw some of the couples caressing each other, joining in the magic of the theatre. It did not seem strange or offensive to her. Behind the velvet drape of her table she crossed her legs and squeezed tightly at the fire building up in her own body. Her attack on the book had been an irrelevance. Her efforts no longer mattered to the audience or even to herself.
The story had reached its climax and ended. The audience gave a sigh as they shook themselves out of the conjurer's spell, and then the applause started. Everyone was on their feet and making as much noise as they could. Clapping, cheering, whistling. The Board could do nothing and stayed where they were. Susan was clapping frantically, and even the Major was giving some polite applause. The shouting resolved itself into a rhythmic chant of “Trehearne, Trehearne, Trehearne”.
He had looked at Valerie for permission and then stood to speak. The volume of the shouting doubled, and for long moments he could say nothing. Eventually they quietened because they wanted to hear their hero speak. “Bless you! I love to see people enjoying themselves.” There was laughter, and the cheering restarted, but he calmed them down again. “Seriously—and there might have been a serious side to all this if you people had not come along and told us how you felt—seriously, a very significant event has happened here over the last few days. The good things that people knew in their hearts have been allowed to come out into the open. You have taken back some of the fun in life. And very good for all of us, I say! Now when you have the opportunity, enjoy yourself, and don't let anyone try to tell you otherwise.
“Enough philosophy! Life's too short for it. But we can't go without saying thank you to the people who made it all possible. I mean, of course, the Board! Come on, ladies!” He waved the Board out from behind their table. Susan shot out to his call and stood beside him, holding his hand. The Major moved heavily out with a smile on her face. Valerie was enough of a politician to know when to go with the tide. She, too, came to the front of the stage and took Trehearne's other hand. The four of them stood together in the brilliance of the lights and public celebration, bowing to their audience.
Priscilla had known it would be her turn next, but for the moment Trehearne had stood alone in front of them, holding up his hand for quiet. “Now I want your thanks for a very lovely lady, a lady who has had an extremely difficult job to do over the last few days. She has worked very hard, done her best, and believe me, this tremendous celebration would not have been possible without her. Please, let's call her out….”
“Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla,” chanted the happy crowd at the tops of their voices. Trehearne handed her to the front of the stage and stood back. She was alone in front of the cameras and the people of the world. The applause was literally deafening, and a warm bath of emotion flooded over her. She felt drunk and reckless. She knew she was smiling. She knew she had bowed to them. She did not know why, but now she was blowing kisses to them. She looked around for Trehearne, and he came to her rescue. He stood with his arm around her waist as she waved to the crowd. In the joy of the moment she had swung round to him and kissed him full on the mouth. The audience roared. As they both waved, the lights cut, and he led her quickly off-stage in the darkness. “Priscilla, you are completely unbelievable. You should have been a film star. They absolutely love you!” She had still been floating and could not stop smiling.
He picked her up at seven o'clock sharp that evening. She had spent the afternoon trying to put together a combination of clothes that would impress him, not too casual, not too formal. Above all, she tried to be at least a little bit sexy. For a wild moment she thought about leaving off her bra, or even her panties as well. She knew he would approve, but she was too proud to let him think that he had led her to it. She might have lost her case, but she had not lost her self-respect.
She had called her hairdresser and pleaded an emergency. Instant service turned out to be one of the benefits of fame, and they found an immediate appointment for her. She had let slip casually that Trehearne was taking her to dinner, and soon every stylist in the salon was discussing her hair. Even some of the other clients joined in. She let them get on with it and was frightened by what they created. It looked far too glamorous. Imitating a Los Angeles millionairess was not her style. In the end, it had been done and anyway, the day had been so full of fantasies that one more would not hurt.
She had settled on a loose red silk blouse and tight black trousers. When Trehearne had come to the door, he applauded. “Wow! The other Priscilla. Where have you been hiding her?”
They settled in the cab. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“It's my treat, so I guess I decide. I hope you like Mexican food?”
The meal had been fantastic. They were both hungry and Trehearne made a good host. They were recognised as soon as they entered the restaurant, but Priscilla did not mind. She was getting used to it, and they had a long and relaxed dinner. The world now knew what was likely to happen to single girls after an invitation by Trehearne to a Mexican restaurant, and still she did not mind. The day, and now the evening, had a pure fairy tale air to it, but she knew that Cinderella would soon have to return to reality.
And here she was, alone in bed, in the familiar surroundings of her Islington apartment. It was less than an hour since they had left the restaurant. Her bedroom door swung open and soft light flooded in from the living room. A wave of terror rose inside her and without thinking she rolled onto her tummy to hide from him. She sensed him moving closer. He smelled fresh from the shower. The sheet slid slowly down her body, and she buried her face in the pillow, unable to face him. The mattress moved as he knelt and whispered in her ear, “You're so beautiful.”
He came closer, and she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. His lips brushed lightly against her shoulder, and she lost control. Her body was tense and shivering as if with icy cold. Inside her head she heard herself calling for him. “Please. Now. Do it to me. Please.” His tongue probe
d the back of her neck. The shivering increased. In one swift movement his tongue sliced down the length of her spine. Priscilla's world shattered and fell to pieces.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jacqueline lives in the far north of Queensland, Australia, on the shores of the Coral Sea. She has a house built for the tropical climate--on tall stilts and with walls that open to let the breeze blow through.
She settled in Australia after living with her husband in many countries and cultures, and her travels have given her a fund of stories and locations she uses in her stories. We do not know exactly how far her stories come from her imagination, and how much from experience. She will not tell us but if you visit her website and ask nicely, she might tell you.
Jacqueline writes romantic stories because she is an unrepentant romantic at heart. In a world that is drowning in poverty and violence, she tries to hold up a cheerful light and make everyone's life a little happier. That is a big job, but it is fun to make the attempt and, who knows, it might just work.
When she is not writing, she is kept busy by her garden which is still maturing. Right now her coconut trees look young and scrappy, but come back in five years and they will be towering over the house. And what could be more romantic than a coconut palm?
Other Jacqueline George titles you may enjoy
The Prince and the Nun
Sister Therese is faced with a problem. The castle she is caring for has been taken over by the Imperial Army, and Captain Prince Mefist is turning her world upside down. He is going to billet soldiers in her domain, and that is not the worst of it. He will have officers staying in the family apartments, and he wants to set up a bordello in the attic...
Light o’Love
Studying love and witchcraft at university was always going to be difficult, but Shirley’s life is made much more dangerous when Dr Rostov of the Dark Light stalks her. She fights him off but finally submits to being the bait in a trap to catch him.
Light Her Master’s Voice
While her husband Tim works on the oil rigs of Borneo, Sherry is left alone in Singapore. She fills in her time by studying yoga with a guru who has very definite ideas about what makes a woman.
She will have to learn to be sexy all over again, and her friend Ranji soon has her playing magic flutes all over town.
But what will Tim do when he finds out what she has been doing? Will he send her away, or train her to be the wife he wants?
How to make Wild, Passionate Love
to your Man
Every woman makes love to her man with her heart, but just where do you learn how to do it with your mind and body too? Here is a chance to peep into the sexy world between your man's ears, and lots of practical advice on what to do to drive him wild.
Now you can be the most skillful lover he has ever experienced...
Other Jacqueline George titles include :
The Accidental Spy
Falling into Queensland
Where Gold Lies
Gypsy
Working for Jeremy
A Walk on the Wild Side
Jacqueline and a Sexy Year
Foreign Affairs Page 33