Lady in White

by A. J. Matthews

  She grunted with annoyance. "Still stirring. He tried to make out Marty was only aiming to live here with me so he could get away from the political situation in Britain."

  "Ouch! That's a lousy thing to say."

  "Tell me about it. Marty told him he'd live with me anywhere in the world, but Dad neglected to mention that part."

  "Gee, like he's never tried that selected edit trick before."

  "Tom, how the hell do I know what he's concealing? I'm not a fucking mind-reader!"

  "Hey, hey, steady there, sis! It's not like you to be a potty-mouth. That's my shtick!"

  She pressed her hand to her head. "Sorry, Tom. It's just been one hell of a night, you know. I'd better go speak to Marty and put this whole thing to bed. Thanks for the advice."

  "You're welcome and—though it pains me to say this—there's no charge."

  She laughed. "Tom, I don't care what they say about you, you're a gem!"

  "Thanks—I think. Have a good one, Claudie."

  "You too, Tom."

  * * * *

  An elderly woman was waiting next to the apartment's parking slot as Claudia eased the Taurus into the lot. The headlights picked her out quite clearly, a dumpy-looking woman in a black dress with white lace trim, peering down at her through gold pince-nez spectacles as she parked. In spite of the snow and intense cold, she wore no coat or any other protection. "Miss Mackenzie?" the woman said as Claudia got out of the car.

  "Yes, can I help you?" Claudia asked as she zapped the lock.

  The woman fixed her with a gimlet stare. "I'm sure I can help you. I'm Mrs. Ellis; I have the apartment above yours."

  "Oh." She couldn't think of what else she could say; memories of enthusiastic sex-sessions with Marty accompanied by the muffled thumping coming from the ceiling intruded on her mind.

  "Young lady, you're doing yourself and that young man of yours no favors at all by storming out on your relationship."

  She bristled. "Well, I don't see if it's any of your business…”

  Mrs. Ellis swatted the air with the back of her hand. "I'm making it my business! Too many people say 'it's none of my business but' when they intend to interfere. I'm not a hypocrite, and I do mean to interfere when an injustice is being done." She jabbed a finger at her. "You know very well that I hear everything that goes on in your apartment."

  "I know! We hear you pounding the floor every time we—look, we're sorry if our love-making disturbs you, but really…”

  Again the lady swatted the air, cutting Claudia off. "I'm not talking about that, although you do seem to be a very noisy young lady!" Claudia felt her face grow hot in spite of the cold wind. "Leaving that aside, I also heard what went on with that young woman who came here earlier."

  She stared at Mrs. Ellis, who stared right back with an air of self-righteousness. "My sister?"

  "Yes, the young reddish-blond girl." She leaned close, releasing a smell of violets that carried on the breeze. "I heard what went on, and it was exactly as your young man described it. Your sister attempted to seduce him, and he most gallantly refused her advances. She left soon after."

  Claudia began to relax. "I do believe you," she said. "I felt in myself that he told me the truth, but it's good to have a witness."

  "Yes. That's good." Mrs. Ellis nodded. "But it's even better if you trust your young man from the very first! Now go tell him!" She pointed at the passageway into the apartment, the security light over the front door shining cheerfully in the dark.

  Claudia nodded. "I'll do that. Thanks for helping to set my mind at rest, Mrs. Ellis."

  "You're very welcome, dear," she said in a much gentler tone of voice.

  Mrs. Ellis turned and began climbing the stairs up to her apartment. Claudia watched the old lady go then turned to her own door—and Martin.

  * * * *

  He was sitting on the sofa, the picture of dejection. The TV was on, showing an episode of Friends with the sound off. A pile of bed linen sat on the floor at one end of the sofa, tucked out of the way of passing feet.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi," he replied in a neutral tone.

  She gestured to the bed linen. "What's all this?"

  "I'm going to sleep here tonight."

  She shook her head. "No, you're not."

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if you're that mad at me, there's a motel just down the road. I think they're open twenty-four hours."

  As he made to rise, she stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder, pressing him down again, gently but firmly. "Marty, we've got a perfectly good bed through there. It's big enough for the two of us. You belong in it with me."

  Hope flared in his face and he smiled for the first time in hours, melting her heart anew. "Am I forgiven?"

  "For what? It was all Caroline's doing, and from what you tell me it wasn't even her fault."

  "It wasn't." He frowned. "Something was driving her."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know—but I'm going to find out and deal with it."

  "I'm sure you will." She sat on the sofa beside him and hugged him tight. "Do you forgive me for being such an idiot?"

  "There's nothing to forgive, darling," he said, holding her close.

  She savored the feel of his warm body in her arms, a twinge of near-agony shooting through her as she thought of how near she'd come to losing him.

  He drew back, stroked her cheek, and looked into her eyes. "We both made mistakes tonight. It'd be best if we learn from them and move on."

  "We'll do just that."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Burwell looked out of the office window at the monochrome world and reflected on the previous evening's revelation. It had been the last of that day's surprises; his morning had begun with another.

  The day was overcast; threatening clouds slid by overhead, borne out of the north on the infamous Alberta Clipper, but no snow had fallen yet. Lumps of piled snow occasionally fell from the black branches of the trees along the river, and he could just make out the housing beyond. Christmas decorations made muted patches of color, the only relief from the prevailing black, white, and gray. He sighed and reached for the phone, tearing his gaze away from the world outside. As a psychiatrist, he recognized displacement activity when he saw it, especially in himself.

  "Martin? It's John Burwell. Listen, I've got clearance for you to look through some files…"

  * * * *

  Martin was surprised at the news. "Thanks, John. If you text me the address, I'll get over there."

  He ended the call and looked at Claudia, still sleeping beside him. Only her nose, forehead, and a patch of tousled auburn hair showed above the cover. They'd both been too emotionally drained to do anything more than crawl into bed last night. The fight had been ugly; he ruefully acknowledged he had the typical Englishman's abhorrence of “making a scene,” and it had pained him beyond belief to think he might've lost her.

  She opened an eye and peered up at him sleepily. "You're still here, then?" she said.

  "I'll always be here," he replied quietly.

  "I'm glad, Marty." She half-rose, slid across the bed, and wrapped her arms around him. "I was acting the fool last night."

  He hugged her. "You weren't, love. We both got a nasty shock, but it's over and done with. We're together, and that's all that matters."

  "Mmm!"

  She pulled him down under the cover and cuddled close, her head on his chest, and toyed with his nipple. He could feel her breasts pressing against him, and began to get an erection. His cell phone beeped, announcing an incoming text. "Bugger!" Checking the screen, he switched it off and laid it aside.

  "Was it your phone that woke me up?" she asked.

  "Hmm? Oh, yes. John Burwell called. He's managed to get access to some files for me." He jerked a thumb at the phone. "He just sent a text with the address of the archive."

  "Burwell?" She raised her head enough to look at the bedside clock, and groaned softly. "H
e must be at the hospital. It's later than I thought."

  "What time do you have to be at work today?" He stroked her arm, reluctant to let the moment end.

  "I'll need to be there around eleven to finalize a sale." Her hand wandered lower, over his chest and stomach and through his pubic hair, until her fingers found and closed around his tumescent cock. "In the meantime, I guess I can find something else to do!"

  "I hope Mrs. Grundy upstairs has earplugs handy!" he said, grinning. "The way I'm going to make love to you, they'll hear you in Washington!"

  She cocked her head and laid a finger to her lips. "Do you mean D.C. or Washington state?"

  "Let's begin with D.C. and work our way up…"

  * * * *

  Burwell made his way through the hospital, checking in on patients and staff alike, but all the time he found himself missing one particular face. Eventually he approached the reception desk. "Marjorie, is Caroline here today?"

  She shook her head. "No, she phoned in sick."

  "Ah. I did think she looked unwell yesterday, so I just wondered if she came in today."

  Marjorie gave him a knowing look as she shook her head, and he beat a dignified retreat, his face hot.

  * * * *

  Claudia put a hand to Marty's chest and said, "Whoa there, lover! I need a pee, and then I've got some medication to take."

  He held up his hands and smiled, and she grinned and gave him a lingering kiss. "I'll be right back." She kissed the tip of his nose for luck, and padded off to the bathroom.

  She took the box from the cabinet, popped a tab from the foil packet and washed it down with a glass of water. Marty disliked using rubbers—much like the other men who'd shared her bed from time to time—although he'd used the things without protest. He was the only guy she'd ever gone to the length of getting a prescription for. She'd never liked swallowing tablets, but if it meant they could enjoy full contact with each other it was a small sacrifice to make. The thought of the full contact to come brought a surge of warmth between her thighs and she smiled with anticipation.

  When she returned to the bedroom, he was lying with the covers rolled to the foot of the bed, his erect cock in hand, stroking it slowly. "Started without me?" She chuckled, leaning in the doorway with her hands above her on the jamb.

  "I was just keeping the home fire burning while you were gone," he said with a smile, and she saw his gaze run slowly over her body.

  "Shall we stoke up the flames a little?"

  "Stoke away with a will! Damn, but you look sexy in that pose! I love the way your tits thrust out like that."

  "Mmm! Good!" She held the pose for a few seconds more, then crossed to the bed and knelt at the foot. "I like the way you stroke your cock," she said, watching him, admiring anew his long, slender fingers, like those of a pianist. The analogy with music tickled her. "It's a beautiful instrument you’ve got there!"

  "Give it a blow and they'll hear me in London!"

  She laughed out loud. "Damn, but I love a guy who makes me laugh!" He waggled his eyebrows a là Groucho Marx, and she chuckled. "Would you care for a sixty-nine, darling?"

  "Oh, why not?"

  She got onto all fours and turned around, presenting her butt to his gaze. With a grind and a bump at every step, she moved backward up the bed, astride his legs, then his chest, letting him watch her pussy coming toward him.

  He laid his palms on her hips, holding and guiding her toward his lips. She felt his hot breath on her pussy, then the first delicate touch of his tongue as it slid over her slit. Her pussy instantly grew wetter still, and she could feel him lapping her juice.

  His cock was below her now, thrusting upward, his manly scent warm and intimate in her nose. Marty had already rolled his foreskin back as he'd masturbated, and a bead of pre-cum gleamed in the light. Lowering her head, she licked it away with the very tip of her tongue, savoring the taste of her man.

  The head felt hot to her tongue as she began to slide it all over the engorged purple bulb, and she could feel Marty shudder with passion beneath her. His hands were slipping down over her tummy and ribs, seeking then finding her breasts as they swung with her movements. Firm fingers enfolded them, and he began to alternate between squeezing, caressing and pinching them.

  "Oh, yeah, that's so good!"

  "Mmm, yesss! I love the way you taste!"

  She could feel his lips pressing against her pussy, and then his tongue began to slide deeper and deeper inside. Her breasts felt hot and heavy, swollen with desire and love for him, as he squeezed and caressed them, pinching her nipples from time to time.

  Lowering her head, she draped her hair over his thighs and began to sweep it back and forth, letting the dark coppery strands brush and tickle him. His hips gave a convulsive twitch, and she grasped his cock once more. "Eat me," he said his voice urgent.

  "Okay, sweetheart," she whispered, and took him in her mouth.

  Firmness, heat, and Martin’s wonderful taste filled her mouth, and she lowered her head further, taking a little more inside her mouth, controlling her breathing with an effort to avoid choking. Eventually she swallowed him, the head of his cock way back in her throat, and he began to thrust even as his lips worked magic on her pussy and clitoris.

  She was pouring wet now, the heat and the tingling sensations flooding out of her pussy with increasing urgency. All she could do was to focus on breathing as her man's cock filled her mouth, jerking back and forth, guided by her fingers around the shaft. He pulled and suckled on her clit as if it was a nipple, and she felt her thighs tighten convulsively about his head. His grasp on her breasts tightened too, and she gasped as the pain stoked her own passion higher and higher, mixing and mingling with the sensations flooding out of her clitoris as he suckled her until she came in a long drawn-out moan of ecstasy.

  Hearing her cries must have tipped Marty over the edge, for suddenly his hands clasped her head, his cock filled her throat to the last hair, and it began to pulse violently as he shot his cum directly down her throat.

  The world was beginning to turn dark at the edges as she held her breath for far longer than she expected. As his gasps and grunts subsided and his cum ceased to jet, she drew his cock from her throat and gulped down a deep lungful of blessed air.

  "Oh, dear God!" he groaned, lying limp beneath her. "Are you okay?"

  "Just about," she gasped, swallowing the last traces of his cum that had remained in her mouth and inhaling deeply. "That damn near choked me!"

  "Sorry, lover," he said, and she knew he was genuinely contrite. Most men would have tried to hide the pleasure they felt at nearly choking their partner with their mighty manhood, for size was very much a guy thing. Marty had more than most, yet he never made an issue of it.

  Smiling to herself, she took his shaft, still semi-rigid from its exertions, and cleaned the head with her tongue and lips. She felt his hands roaming over her back, and around to cup and squeeze her breasts once more. "There!" she said, turning around and lying cozily alongside him. His face was flushed and sweaty, and she wiped it gently with her hand. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh, yes!" he said, and kissed her. "Something resembling a small nuclear bomb went off in my head when I came, but otherwise I'm fine. Was it good for you?"

  "It's always good for me." She stroked his chest, feeling his warmth and the regular rise and fall of his breathing, then glanced at the clock and smiled. "I've got time enough to do something more if you like?"

  "I rather think I like," he said, holding her close.

  She kissed him on the lips, cheeks, and brow, then down over his jaw to his throat. He held her in his arms, and she felt his fingers brush the undersides of her breasts. Sliding the flat of her hand down over his chest and stomach, she clasped his cock and began to manipulate it slowly, gently coaxing rather than driving.

  Marty's breathing began to grow deeper and quicker, and she straddled him about the waist, dropping her head to brush her hair over his face and chest, reaching behind her t
o keep hold of his cock. "Don't ever cut your hair, darling," he murmured. "It's wonderful!"

  "Did you know, when a Hassidic Jewess marries she has to cut her hair, because it's considered a magical substance capable of driving her husband wild with desire?"

  "I can believe that," he said, clasping her breasts and caressing them. His thumbs brushed her erect nipples, and she shuddered with delight at the touch. "They may have a point there."

  His cock began to stiffen in her grasp, and she coaxed it some more, running her nails over the perineum, feeling to judge his response. He smiled gently up at her, and she smiled back, feeling his love for her and her love for him. No words needed to be spoken now; they were attuned to each other. In her grasp his cock became as solid as an iron bar.

  Rising on her knees, she slid back a little way, until she could position his cock right against her pussy. She felt the heat of the head against her tender lips and slid it back and forth to moisten it with her juices, which were beginning to trickle down her thigh.

  Watching his face, looking for that momentary flicker of near-anguish as she went down on him, she braced herself with her hands on his chest, holding his cock just inside her with her labia alone. Taking a deep breath, savoring the moment, she began to lower herself onto him.

  His gaze dropped, as always, to watch his cock sliding deep inside her, the ultimate union of man and woman. She felt her pussy walls parting as he rose inside her. As always he let her decide the pace, how quick and deep she took him. He knew it was her favorite position, and she blessed the man for his tender concern for her pleasure.

  And then she was down, her perineum pressing firmly onto him, thighs clasped to his side jockey-fashion, as his cock filled her as deep as it could ever reach. Deep inside, her cervix was pressed upward by the head of his cock, an almost-pain that made her shiver.

  She began to ride him, leaning back in the saddle to bring pressure to bear on her G-spot. Clasping her about the waist, he matched her rhythm, his hips rising and falling to meet hers.

  The fires of her last orgasm hadn't died down entirely. They began to flare with ever greater urgency as she rose and fell, the tingling surging out once more to fill her mind with light, her ears with the pounding of her blood. Marty's hands left her waist to clasp and squeeze her breasts, and she held them there with her hands as she leaned back further, and further, the increased pressure of his cock against her pussy walls stoking her passion higher still.