by Kenyon, Toni
Venomous, drunken wailing, just as he'd suspected. He could hardly bring himself to keep the receiver to his ear; the sound of her voice repulsed him. His desire to delete the message burned with a vengeance bordering on mania.
Trembling, he put the phone down. "For fuck’s sake, Matt. Pull yourself together."
The apparition speaking to him from the gilt-edged mirror hung on the wall above the phone barely resembled the man he knew himself to be. He made his way to the bathroom, running cooling water into the marble basin and splashing some over his reddened face with shaky hands. Under the glare of the fluorescent lighting he was even more afraid of the man who peered back at him. What the hell had the power to stir up these unwholesome emotions in him?
Tamsen's determination not to let Matt's sudden departure stop her enjoying the experience she'd looked forward to for so long prevailed. But she decided to walk the busy streets back to the hotel, needing time to compose herself. Difficult as it had been burying her resentment over being abandoned in church, it amused her - the thought of a witch being deserted by a Catholic on his home territory.
Surely, she reasoned, Matt should have been comforted by the surroundings. Instead he’d appeared to grow more and more aggravated the longer they were there. He couldn't have been worried she would be struck down, could he? She'd heard him whisper, 'Straight aim Hughie, she's the one you have to hit, not me.' He must have been joking.
The wind whipped her skirt around her legs as it pushed her down the hill toward the thickening mass of humanity accumulated in the concrete-and-glass labyrinth of the city. She shivered, wrapping her now inadequate crochet shawl around her shoulders, not sure if it was the wind-chill or her abhorrence of the city's vulgar display of wealth that was causing her discomfort.
The climate-controlled atmosphere of their hotel room was a welcome sanctuary, much as the cathedral had been. Tiptoeing around the spacious interior, thankful for plush carpeting as she tried not to wake the slumbering Matt, Tamsen collected her diary and settled herself on the luxurious couch in front of the window.
Panoramic views of the river winding its way into the distance settled the nagging, insecure feeling that had been on the rise. More calming water for her frazzled psyche. Mouthing a small prayer of thanks to the Goddess, she opened the pages to write.
Gina's name caught her eye and she remembered the phone. A quick check and she noticed the small light no longer blinked. Creeping across the room, Tamsen perched precariously on the edge of the large bed. Matt's quiet, rhythmic snoring brought a smile to her face. There was something special about studying someone you love while they made their tiny sleeping sounds. His lips twitched as she watched him, almost as if he were trying to whisper something to her; she felt connected to him in an extraordinary way when he lay defenseless like this.
All loving instincts bolted in a wave of anger as she heard Gina's voice on the line.
"Tamshen. Yoof jush got to come home."
How much and how long, was all Tamsen could think.
"I know weef had our differenshes." It was painful listening to the drunken drawl. "But I really mish you and want you to come home."
The blathering was broken by sobbing and pleading. Sorely tempted to hang up and pretend the call never happened, Tamsen stayed on the line.
"Pleash, pleash, jush call, Tamsh. I can't belief you've stayed away with that prick from the offish. Afta he sacked me and everything. I should have been on holiday wiv you. I jush don't know what to do without you here. I feel like shit and - " more sobbing and loud nose blowing " - you jush always know what to do. I can't go on. Not like thish." The message deteriorated into incoherent sobbing and babble.
Tamsen deleted the message, feeling more sick than usual. This was how it always happened after bad binging. First snubbed, and then the gifts and then when things got bad Gina came crawling back, expecting to be forgiven and that all would just be how it had always been. Maybe the answer lay in a different approach. Nothing would change if nothing changed. Surely it was time to cut the umbilical cord and force Gina to sort out her own life.
Matt stirred and opened one eye. "Hey, gorgeous girl. When did you get back?" His voice was sexy and deep with sleep, the drawling tone music to her ears.
Overcome with desire to lick him, she found herself devouring his prostrate form with her eyes. "A while ago. I didn't want to disturb you, but I'm glad you've woken up."
Her reward: the sexiest grin. A small surge of delight grew inside her. Much the same way a tiny spark starts a forest fire - and did she ever want to be burned by the solid and sexy man before her.
"That sounds promising." He lifted himself out of the cocoon of covers. "I'd like to continue that inappropriate discussion we were having in church."
"That wouldn't be the one that caused you to scurry away like a startled rabbit, now would it?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "I do believe that's the discussion I had in mind."
He brushed the linen aside, enough for her to take in the plane of his stomach but not quite enough to judge the state of his arousal. There was no doubt that she was interested, even if he was being coy about how interested he might be.
He suggested, "Why don't you let me give you a little demonstration of why I thought the topic was so inappropriate?"
She couldn't help herself. "Only a little demonstration?"
His laugh was slow and rumbled from deep within. Right at this moment she wanted him like she'd never wanted another man in her life. It didn't matter that Gina was causing problems, or that the morning she'd planned hadn't gone the way she wanted it to. What mattered was here, this instant in time.
A deep and primal urge overtook her; all conscience, worry and trepidation flew from her mind. "I want you to do what I say." Her voice sounded husky and the overwhelming desire to touch him drove her, but she wanted to make it last, to extract every single ounce of pleasure from the moment.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he settled back against the pillows, propping his hands behind his head, exposing the dark, downy hair under his arms. She longed to run her fingernails through it, scratch the soft flesh of his underarms until he moaned and begged her to stop.
Instead she walked to the door, hung the "Do not disturb" sign on the outside and clicked the deadlock into place. The air was thick with anticipation. "Don't want to be disturbed now, do we?" she purred.
"Better take the phone off the hook too then."
"Don't worry, baby. I was getting there."
"There was a message - " his face took on a worried look " - from your...friend." The last word came out as a strangled sound.
"I've listened to it and I don't want to talk about it. Not right now, anyway." She knew instantly from his relieved expression she'd said the right thing.
"What do you want now?" The look in his eye was wanton.
"You." She crawled up the bed, navigating her way around the tangle of legs and linen, planting a kiss in the cleave of his chest, drinking in the scent of him. "Mr Sex-on-a-stick."
"Tell me more," he almost moaned.
"I won't tell you..." She licked her way around a nipple, then changed her mind and upping the stakes, giving it a savage bite. "But I'll show you."
He sucked in a short breath that whistled through his teeth. "Show me what?"
"What I do when I think about you and you're not there."
Kicking the covers off him, she was no longer under any illusion as to the state of his arousal. She caught her breath. If ever such a thing as a perfectly proportioned dick existed, she thought, there it was sitting right in front of her.
"Show and tell. Does that mean you talk dirty too?"
"No. But you can." She felt suddenly depraved. "Tell me what you'd like to do to me."
"But no touching, right?"
She smiled; his hand was weaving its way down to his nether regions and he wasn't even aware of it. "No touching me."
"You're deliciously evil - you kno
w that, don't you?"
"Hmm."
Lounging on the end of the bed, she made herself comfortable, visions of all the things she was going to do with him after her little show running through her mind. The prospect of slowly torturing him played through her mind.
Returning again to the moment, she concentrated on the horizontal figure before her. One strong hand lay half open across the peak of his hipbone, as if he'd somehow become aware he’d been going to pleasure himself but was holding back, waiting to see where she would take him.
The thought of his hand on himself, his thumb gliding up his shaft, sent tingles of heat down her spine. She wanted to touch herself for him. Show him how she liked to be touched. It was too embarrassing to tell him, but showing him seemed, saucy and scandalous almost; it turned her on in the most delicious way.
"Are you going to be long?" He was beginning to sound impatient.
She felt the blush rise from her chest and was powerless to control it. "I'll be as long as it takes."
Feeling on display to the universe, not just one man, she closed her eyes and took a calming deep breath. She was at once aware of the sickly-sweet scent of lilies; she'd not noticed them before. "I smell flowers." Tamsen said as she opened her eyes.
"I had housekeeping bring them when they serviced the room."
"I didn't know you liked flowers."
"There're lots of things you don't know about me, but I get the feeling you're willing to learn."
He smiled at her, the kind of smile that clambers over your nose and erupts in your eyes. Not returning it would have been a sin.
"I'm very willing."
"Good. I'm willing you to take your dress off. I want to see what you do to yourself when I'm not around."
She'd often fantasized about displaying herself in front of a man, but now the opportunity was here she felt unnaturally shy. The burning surge of lust that had kick-started this trip had spluttered out. There wasn’t much option other than to get on with it and hope for the best.
Laying her modesty aside with her dress, she found solace in the fact that she'd had the good sense to put some pretty pale blue underwear on this morning. Nothing like a budding romance and a holiday to float the best bra-and-knicker sets to the front of the underwear drawer.
The blue lace couldn't hide her arousal. Familiar dampness began to form between her legs and she took delight in running her fingers down her belly and sliding them into the wetness. A growing sense of security from her own familiar touch eased her jangling nerves. Matt's eager attention and the fact he was expertly massaging pre-come over the head of his raging hard-on spurred her on.
"Taste yourself for me."
An overwhelming desire to please him surged through her and Tamsen found herself suckling her own juices from her fingers. A rush of excitement exploded from some dark place inside, sending tendrils of warmth across her body.
She removed her underwear with haste, finding it impossible to figure out a way to look sexy while doing so. Kneeling up over him again, beginning to enjoy the power, she played her fingers down her breasts, stopping to squeeze her now rigid nipples, even aware of the tiny buds on her areola.
"I want you to touch me too." Matt's words were more of a moan.
"Soon. I promise." She ran her finger down to her clit, picking up a little lubrication and circling the sensitive node of flesh. The look on Matt's face, his frantic squirming beneath her and the familiar sensation of her fingers was all too much. "Oh, God, I'm going to come for you, Matt - would you like that?"
He nodded, frantic, and let go of his cock, both hands clutching at the linen. She noticed the white of his knuckles before she lost herself in a sea of feeling.
Rubbing against his perfect cock, she came, fast and hard and with an openness she'd not experienced before. Panting and breathless, she collapsed on top of a sweating and squirming Matt.
"Don't you dare." She felt his words on the side of her damp neck more than heard them. "Don't think you can display yourself to me like that, turn me on and then just lie there."
He lifted her limp form and thrust his hard cock inside her in a single, piercing motion. A moan escaped Tamsen's lips as she felt him bottom out deep within.
"Look at me!" If his cock hadn't already snapped her back into the present moment his voice would have. "I want you to watch me come now - in you."
He started lifting her up and down - slowly at first, then building to what she could only hope would be a quick finish. Yet despite herself and her exhausted state, as she felt the tension in his body building beneath her she couldn't resist matching him stroke for stroke. Repositioning herself on the balls of her feet, without him missing a beat, she took control. She liked dominating him; there was a sense of wonder at the ability she had to turn an intelligent, competent, powerful man into a begging, gibbering wreck.
"Come on, come for me then." She couldn't help verbalizing her thoughts. Surely that would tip him over the edge? She was barely hanging on, so he couldn't be far away.
She leaned down and whispered into his ear, "I want you to come in me, right now."
That was all it took. A violent shudder beneath her, and then she couldn't work out who the moans were coming from - him or her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next three days passed in a blur of food, sex and sightseeing, not necessarily in that order.
Tamsen couldn't believe how picturesque were some of the out-of-the-way places they visited. Matt seemed to drop his omnipresent guard; the wide open spaces and harsh Australian scenery dug at his core, exposing a beautiful vein, clearly as precious as the gold mined from the very territory they visited.
He astounded her with his hunger for the arts - galleries, theaters, and even an evening with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra at the Town Hall. To her surprise she lost herself in Tchaikovsky's Pathétique Symphony, the combination of music and historic surroundings causing every cell in her being to scream in pure unadulterated delight at being alive.
She'd bored Matt senseless with her fervor for fine detail - especially on their visit, at his insistence, to the Botanic Gardens where Tamsen fell in love with a tiny, pre-fabricated cottage that had been brought out in pieces from England in 1839. As she regaled him with its history Matt seemed alternately amused and frustrated by her passion for diligent and thorough research.
The familiar toi toi sculptures before the harbor bridge signaled home to Tamsen, as did the pukeko strutting along the median strip, oblivious their passing vehicle, playing some sort of native game of chicken. But home meant Gina, and Tamsen realized her hands were tingly and sweaty with fear – though fear about what, or whom?
How she wished she could return to that safe place of oblivion her time away with Matt had been. A wonderful fantasy she hadn't wanted to end but now reality beckoning with a firm hand. As Matt slowed down for the entrance to her apartment block she shuddered involuntarily.
"Are you cold, sweets?" Matt looked concerned.
Despair gripped her and she fought not to cry. "No. I'm just not looking forward to being back. Things have been so bad between me and Gina." She sighed. "And I've had such a lovely time away with you."
"The harsh reality of living with the spinner from hell."
"She's not that bad, really." Even as the words fell from her mouth Tamsen knew he was right. Maybe it was time to think about moving on, giving Gina notice.
"Just throw the mad tart out." He had that look of disgust on his face, the one that screamed if things didn't quite fit Mr Solomon's view on the world they needed to be gone. And Gina had never fitted. It was an impossible state of affairs - her lover versus her best friend. Tamsen felt trapped.
As Matt pulled into the visitors’ park she noted Gina's yellow VW parked in its usual spot.
"She's home, then." Matt stated the obvious, his voice sounding as flat as she felt.
"That appears to be the case." Climbing out of the Audi, Tamsen wished for the first time in an
age that she hadn't given up smoking. "Oh, God!"
"What's the matter now?" Matt was busy unloading her case from the boot.
"I've just remembered. That phone call we had a couple of days ago - the drunken, abusive one."
"They've all been drunken and abusive for quite some time." Tamsen didn't miss the venom in his voice.
"I never called her back." She felt the wail rising in her voice. "Gina'll hate me."
Matt brushed the hair out of her eyes, tipped her chin with his finger and almost looked straight through her. "She was so drunk she probably won't even remember making the call. Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."
"Do you think so?"
"I think so. Now stop upsetting yourself and let's go and get this over with. I mean, really - how much trouble can a mad, drunken woman be?"
It hit her as soon as she opened the door. A foul stench that hung in the air, reminding Tamsen of the stink that comes from public toilets. She shuddered.
"Fuck. What's that smell?" Matt's mood wasn't getting any better.
"I have no idea." She spoke the truth. What the hell could Gina have gotten up to? Five days away and the world fell apart.
"I'll open the French doors and see if that helps." Matt headed off toward the lounge and Tamsen started for her room. No doubt her irresponsible friend would be sleeping off another hangover.
Partway down the corridor she called back to Matt, "I don't know if the windows will help - it seems to be getting worse the further down the hall I'm getting."
He brought her suitcase down to her bedroom. "You don't think the cat's gotten trapped somewhere and died, do you?"
"Oh, gross." Tamsen shuddered. "Don't say that, Matt. Azzie's pretty clever - and besides, there's not really anywhere he can get trapped." She added, "And besides I had Janice on the third floor keep an eye on him. I didn't think Gina could be trusted to make sure he got fed every night."