Saxonhurst Secrets

by Justine Elyot

  Evie’s face transferred itself to his consciousness and he let his head fall back again, groaning. Julia swallowed loudly and released his cock, inch by inch, with teasing slowness.

  ‘Such a privilege,’ she said in a low purr. ‘The first taste.’ She kissed his now-flaccid prick, then sat back on her heels. ‘Oh good Lord. You look as if you might burst into tears. Do cheer up.’

  ‘I’ve crossed the line,’ he said, to himself. ‘I’ve crossed it. I’m damned.’

  ‘I’m damned. What a lot of nonsense, Adam. Good God. Men have blowjobs every day – some of them are clergymen. Why ever do you think it would damn them?’

  Adam tried to think. He didn’t even know any more. Where had his sexual mores come from? Did he have sexual mores? Had all these Saxonhurst sex fiends been right all along?

  ‘Julia,’ he said, looking at the ceiling, trying to focus on a lightshade. He repeated her name, singing it this time, Beatles-style.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said, less robustly. She came to sit beside him, rubbing his hand with sympathetic gentleness. ‘This must be rather epoch-making for you. I don’t mean to be a bitch.’

  ‘You aren’t,’ he said, turning his eyes to her. ‘You give me attention I don’t deserve. I wish I knew why.’

  ‘I’ve told you why,’ she said patiently. ‘Because I like you. I fancy you. I want to take you to bed. In fact, I want to keep you there. Wouldn’t you rather be in my bed than that cold old church?’

  He shut his eyes and nodded.

  ‘Come on, then. I’ve got so much I want to show you.’

  Julia’s bed was clean and white, in a clean, white room that smelled of lilies. She led him to its foot by her hand and then stood in front of him, smiling warmly.

  ‘I want you to undress me, Adam,’ she said. ‘Will you do that for me?’

  He was already naked, having left his trousers on the living room floor and his shirt and collar on the sofa. He’d had to remove his boots and socks before entering the bedroom too.

  His reply was to reach out his fingers to Julia’s shirt buttons and undo them, neither slowly nor quickly, but in a kind of dislocated trance. It was already out of the skirt waistband following his earlier explorations, so it slipped easily down her arms, revealing to his sight her pale pink lacy bra. Such a trim little stomach, such an elegant neck and fragile collarbone, he thought. She was nothing like Evie, with her spillage of flesh, her indecent profusion of breast. But Julia’s slightness hid a strength he could almost feel in his bones. She was more than a match for him, more than a match for Evie too. Why had he underestimated her?

  He reached around her waist for her skirt zip, then helped the garment over Julia’s hips.

  ‘That’s the boy,’ she said, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out. Her knickers were also pale pink and lacy. Behind the oyster scalloping, he could see tendrils of darker hair. Unlike Evie, who was shaven. He shut his eyes, remembering the image of her at the maypole.

  Julia, in her underwear, coltish of limb, bold of gaze. She was an invitation to sin. He was going to take it.

  Obligingly, she turned around to grant access to her bra hooks. He was grateful at not having to reach behind, sure he would have fumbled and taken too long. Instead, he slid them from their eyes and pushed the straps down.

  ‘Touch them,’ whispered Julia.

  He held the little mounds in his hands, enjoying the friction of palm and nipple. A woman’s body was pleasant to the touch. This was how men fell … But it was good to have the knowledge. Forewarned was forearmed.

  I am better equipping myself to fight the devil.

  He put his lips to Julia’s neck and kissed it, unprompted. She sighed and leant into him.

  ‘Oh, fast learner. Keep doing that to my nipples and I’ll come here and now, oh sweet God, you’re a natural.’

  No, I’m an unnatural. Always have been, always will be.

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘Damn right. You?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Knickers.’

  Still behind her, he pushed his fingers into the knicker elastic and lowered them. She bent slightly as they fell down her thighs, and her bottom brushed against his cock. He felt that low-down spark in the pit of his stomach, the first sign of approaching erection.

  Her buttocks were trim, pert and toned – by no means as lusciously spankable as Evie’s, but all the same, here was a woman’s arse, and it was in his reach, and he could have it if he wanted. He cupped it in his hands, unable to resist taking a handful of it.

  ‘You’re an arse man, are you, Adam?’

  ‘Stop it. Stop being so coarse.’

  ‘You are, though. I know it.’

  He didn’t reply, busy assessing the qualities of Julia’s bottom. It looked as if a few medium-strength swats might break it. He needed a robust pair of cheeks, like Evie’s. There was an arse that could take a real thrashing. His cock swelled again at the thought. The way it had looked when he rubbed in that lotion …

  Julia wriggled her hips and tipped her neck back to look up at him.

  ‘I want some attention elsewhere, love. Let me lie down and I’ll show you where and what to do.’

  She took her stealthy, feline little body to the bed and settled herself on her back. Adam watched as she scissored her legs apart and drew them up at the knees, giving him a full view of her parted lips and the lush pink-and-redness within.

  ‘Come and touch me.’ She patted her pubis, with its down of dark blonde hair. ‘Right here. Come and take a look. Find your way around.’

  He stood like a startled rabbit for a moment, then the mysterious territory of ridges and whorls, underhung by the soft half-moons of her bottom cheeks, drew him forwards and he knelt on the bed.

  ‘Do you need my help?’ Julia whispered, holding out a hand.

  Adam shook his head hurriedly. He knew what was what and where was where. As an adolescent, he had spent a very long time studying his human biology textbook, the closest he’d ever got to pornography. He knew all about the female reproductive organs, though he’d given up hope of ever seeing them in flesh.

  Prematurely, it seemed, because now here was a splendid example, open and ready to receive his attentions. He bent lower, inspecting the split lips and the complex of folds inside them. Dismal jokes about how men could never locate the clitoris came into his mind, but he was not one of those men. He could see it right there, ripe and deep pink. It looked too tender to touch, though, as if it were raw or something. Would it hurt Julia if he just …

  ‘Touch it. Touch me.’

  His hand strayed closer. The promised land, he thought irrelevantly, irritating himself. Was he able to forget the Bible for one moment? Now he felt her heat radiating outwards to his fingers. She would be wet and slippery and have that strong, alluring scent. He could smell it now. He wanted to plunge himself into it, take it, take her. The tip of one finger touched the outer part of her lips, stroking the wiry hairs.

  He felt her twitch beneath him. She wanted more.

  He turned his hand sideways and slipped all four fingertips between the inner lips. Such warmth, such soft, giving flesh, smooth and glistening. He stroked up and down, small movements, circling her bud, watching it grow and push itself forward more prominently than before. This was a feature of female desire, he had read, all those years ago. The clitoris, emerging from its hood, engorged with blood. He felt a little detached, as if he was watching a nature documentary, but Julia said, ‘Please, Adam, use your fingers, touch it,’ and he got to work.

  It was incredible to see the effect his manipulation of that little knot of flesh had on Julia. She began to moan and pant and wriggle fit to twist the sheets and pull them out of their tucks. The power she had exerted over him when she had him in her mouth had been reversed. Now he wielded it. He could give her pleasure or he could withhold it. The choice was intoxicatingly his.

  Rubbing away, he watched the colour bloom in her cheeks, and a shee
n appear on her forehead. She looked at him with imploring eyes, as if amazed that he could do this to her.

  He smiled.

  This was what he was good at. At last he had found it.

  ‘Stick your fingers inside me,’ she panted. ‘Fuck me with them. Please.’

  Oh, he could do that. Keeping his thumb engaged with her clit, he fed first his forefinger, then his index and ring fingers up inside the hot, tight, yielding little passage underneath. She sucked him in, her walls contracting around his digits, as if she meant to imprison them there. But he had the upper hand and he withdrew them a little way before pushing them back.

  ‘Oh God, you’re good, you can’t say you haven’t done this before … Oh yes.’

  He kept his rhythm slow and precise, yet at the same time his thumb on her clit was merciless, driving her towards that precipice he had seen Evie on, so often. Too often.

  Then something else occurred to him, and he pivoted down at the hips until he loomed over Julia. Her nipples, right there, just where he could get at them. Taking one in his mouth, he rolled the other in his free hand, still working the wrist of his other furiously. Now fully occupied with the occupation of Julia, he licked and twiddled and frigged like a man possessed until he felt the sweet surrender shudder through her. Her orgasmic cries were celestial music to him, something he was given freely, something he took as his right.

  It felt like so many things – freedom, victory, generosity, connection, happiness. What it didn’t feel like was sin.

  He waited for her vibrations to slow, for her movements to still, then he kissed her lips.

  ‘Oh my boy,’ she slurred. There were tears in her eyes, and he kissed those too. ‘I won’t let them have you.’

  He lay down beside her. His cock was hard, but he wasn’t hell-bent on dealing with it, as he had been earlier. He had given to her, and that seemed by far the higher priority. His own relief could wait until he was in the shower.

  He raised his fingers to his nose and gave them a curious sniff. Julia, at his fingertips. He had given her pleasure. He felt like a king.

  Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.

  ‘Was that – all right?’ he asked.

  Her low chuckle satisfied his pride.

  ‘All right, darling? It was absolutely all right. You are tuned in. You know the frequency, you uncanny little whore.’

  He widened his eyes. She called him a whore!

  ‘That was uncalled for,’ he said sniffily.

  ‘Darling, I meant it as a compliment. You should do it professionally. You’re that good.’

  Adam’s head hurt with all the reversals of his concepts of good and bad. He was good at a bad thing. Did that make him intrinsically bad?

  ‘I understand the lure of sin now,’ he said.

  ‘Oh God, don’t start with all that again. Sin hurts people. Sex doesn’t. Well, unless you like a bit of SM, of course. Does that float your boat, vicar?’

  He sat up in bed. The world swam before his eyes. He couldn’t pin down an emotion or a sentiment that would describe the way he felt. Looking at Julia, it wasn’t clear whether he saw a lover or a demon, sent to corrupt him.

  ‘You’ve gone terribly pale,’ she said, raising a solicitous hand to his brow. ‘As if all that good sexing has drained the life from you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to … Do you mind if I use your shower?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s through that door.’

  He sat in the cubicle and let scalding hot water stream on to him until his skin was lobster red. The heat only seemed to harden his cock even more, though, and he saw no alternative than to kill it with masturbation. His seed splashed on to the ceramic tray, mingling with the steam and water, disappearing down the plughole.

  He crouched on the floor and wept.

  When the time came to switch off, he found he couldn’t stand. He felt sick and his vision grew darker and darker until all was black.

  When he came to, he was still in the shower, though Julia had switched off the water and stood over him in a bathrobe, her face tight with concern.

  ‘Why on earth did you have it so hot?’ she scolded. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t blister your skin. You silly, silly boy. Come on. Can you stand up now?’

  She helped him to his feet and back to the bed, on which he collapsed.

  She brought him a glass of water and some biscuits.

  ‘Get your strength back. I’m not surprised you were feeling a bit – sapped.’

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  He sipped at the water, turning tragic eyes to Julia.

  She kissed his cheek.

  ‘Do what you want to do, Adam. Have you ever done that?’

  He shook his head. ‘I mean, about Evie. I’m sorry, Julia. I like you very much, so very much, but I can’t bear to see Evie with all those other men any more … I just can’t. I worry I’m going to lose control and kill them.’

  Julia sighed and fidgeted with the belt of her robe.

  ‘You know, my advice would be to stay away from her. But I don’t suppose for one moment you’ll be able to do that. Perhaps if I spoke to her …’

  ‘She doesn’t listen to anyone.’

  ‘Yes, she does. I know she does. Listen, Adam, leave it with me. Give yourself a break and try not to see her for a few days. You need some time to wind down, I think, or you’re going to give yourself a stroke. And not the right kind of stroke either.’

  She winked at him, but he was too doleful to brighten up.

  He knew he was on the edge now, close to being consumed by his obsessions. Somebody had to save him and, for the first time he could remember, he didn’t think he could put that faith in God.

  Chapter Thirteen

  EVIE’S FEET WERE bare and her hair streamed out behind her as she ran along the path to Palmers Barn. Sultry June had turned to scorching July and the grass verges were slowly changing from lush green to yellowish and tickly.

  When John emerged from the well at her summoning, he was on magnificent form, looking hale and hearty as a spirit could.

  ‘You performed the sporting rite?’ he said. ‘I know you must have done. I am closer than ever to my flesh.’

  ‘Yes, I did it. All was well. But, John, I still fear for the vicar.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s happening too fast, too soon. And the Shields woman has warned me.’

  ‘Warned you of what?’

  ‘That he can’t wait another two months. He won’t wait. He is too close to self-destruction. He’s even talked about killing my other lovers.’

  ‘Well, I know how he must feel. If they didn’t keep me alive, I would contemplate their murder myself. It is a paradoxical position for a man to find himself in. Come here, my Evangeline. Embrace me.’

  In his arms, she continued to speak, her voice low and anxious.

  ‘Shields thinks I should leave the village for a while, and I can see her point. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. If I write to him, I can keep him on the string without him going over the top, d’you know what I mean? And I’ve got a chance to go and do a film shoot in the south of France. Seb and Kasia want to do a beach orgy movie. So that might work really well for me. What do you think?’

  ‘The Shields woman – I wonder at her motives. None of her kind has ever been on our side.’

  ‘I know. She wants him for herself. But I don’t think he wants her. He’s dying for me, John, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t go after Julia Shields, no matter how much she flaunted herself in front of him. He’s a vicar, ain’t he? He’ll be faithful and chaste and all that kind of thing.’

  ‘No man can be chaste when he sees you in his visions. You have already driven him into a fever of lust. I see the quandary, however. A fever of lust is a dangerous thing and cannot be kept at a simmer until the harvest. Perhaps it’s as well if you do go away. Perhaps it will give him time to let his emotions steep. When you return, he will be at your mercy.’

  ‘So I�
�ll tell Seb and Kasia yes, then?’

  ‘Perhaps you should. And now, put the preacher from your mind and unbutton my breeches.’

  When Evie told him she was going away, Adam tried to change her mind.

  She was sitting on his desk, swinging her long brown legs, eating an ice pop. The ice pop was purple and it stained her lips, making him picture himself smearing blackberries over them.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘France. Nice, I think. Nice in Nice, ennit?’ She grinned at her own wit.

  ‘Who are you going with?’

  ‘Seb and Kasia.’

  He felt his facial muscles tense into a ferocious scowl.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s a work thing. Got to earn the crust, ain’t I?’

  ‘When you come to me, you’ll have to give all that up.’

  ‘What, my job? What if I don’t want to?’

  ‘I’m a vicar. I can’t be married to a porn actress.’

  Evie stared.

  ‘Married? You’re a bit previous, ain’t you?’

  ‘I’m not going to live in sin with you.’

  ‘Hark at him! Living in sin. So, come on, then. Where’s my proposal?’

  Adam, caught out and forced into action, looked around the room as if for an escape route before taking the ice pop from Evie’s hand and pulling her to her feet.

  ‘Evie Witts,’ he said, dropping to one knee. ‘Will you marry me?’

  He felt ridiculous, a character in a play. This couldn’t be reality, proposing to the beautiful woman who had slept with every man in Saxonhurst except for him.

  She giggled. ‘I really think you’re serious.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, a mite crossly. ‘Yes, of course I am.’

  ‘Of course you are. You always are. You’re very sweet, Adam, but can I think about it? I’ve never really thought about marriage.’

  ‘Marry me and I’ll get you away from all this.’

  ‘All what?’

  ‘All this sordid reality. Having to do these things for Saxonhurst. Who chose you for this? Who is making you do it?’