The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

Out.

  Slow.

  Fast.

  Soft.

  Hard.

  I almost scream again. I want to scream. I want to make Lenic know how I want it — hard, fast, without poetry and romance, but his mouth softens the noise. He slides his tongue inside my mouth as his fingers find a spot inside me that literally makes me see a million colours. He pushes roughly on that piece, making me close my eyes tightly.

  He rips his mouth away from mine. "Call out my name when you cum," he demands.

  His fingers slide out to go back to caressing my clit, before drilling his fingers inside of me again. His thumb softly flicks my clit as he pumps his fingers, again and again.

  "Oh God, Lenic," I scream, banging my head against the wall as stars explode in front of my eyes. He presses his body into mine, his mouth sucking on my swollen nipple, his thumb rubbing my clit as his fingers pump hard inside of me. This time I really do scream his name, as his tongue swirls around my tip. He licks, bites, sucks, and nips at my bud, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

  When he adds another finger, hits that perfect spot on every thrust … it is just too good to last. I know I am going to lose it quickly. I can barely keep my voice from quivering. “Oh Lenic … I’m cumming.”

  Having him four fingers deep inside of me, in a public place, has the panting muscles in the pit of my stomach go haywire. My hands go back to his head, fisting his hair, pulling on it painfully, as my muscles start to clench around his fingers.

  "Lenic…" I push my head back against the wall and I feel like I can see damn stars, and can feel the world beginning to white out around my periphery, as I look at those intense dark eyes and that handsome face showing more emotions than I think I’ve ever seen Lenic display.

  The rush of oxygen, the effect of the champagne, his touch, his fingers, the adrenaline, the orgasm exploding inside me … it all comes together at once, filling my head with a raw and dizzying blissful explosion that drains the blood from my body.

  I feel his rock-solid cock throb through his trousers, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a low, throaty groan. I’m beyond thinking at this point when I am startled back to reality.

  “Oh my god,” someone gasps.

  Both of our heads snap around at the same time towards the other end of the alleyway that leads to the main street.

  It’s Delphine.

  It’s too dark for her to see anything clearly, but my heat is still throbbing around his fingers as she stares at us, mouth hanging open. “You two aren’t having sex in the alleyway, are you?” she whispers hotly, glancing quickly to her left and right.

  I feel Lenic’s fingers slip out as he steps back, his eyes glazed and body panting.

  "What? Shit," I curse, covering myself up. I run a finger along my lips, wiping off the excess moisture, feeling them throb against my touch. My lips aren’t the only sensitized part of my body throbbing with each rapid pulse of my heart. “No,” I call back, clearing my throat.

  Maybe Lenic and I would have had sex; had mind-altering, universe-shifting sex. Now I will never know.

  Thanks to my cock-blocking friend.

  “Oh my god … you totally were,” she repeats, the expression on her face looking like she can’t wait to tweet the news. I hear her giggle, clapping her hands. “You lucky bitch. I’ll see you inside, Flick. Once he has done giving it to you something good.” She disappears.

  “Please, just ignore her,” I tell Lenic. “She can never handle her wine.” My face crumples when Lenic advances farther backwards, increasing the space between us, regret etched into his face. “Don’t worry … this wasn’t filmed.” A nervous giggle slips from my mouth, aware that something is off. “What’s wrong?”

  He is shaking his head, his eyes cast down. I don't need a mirror to know that the expression I'm wearing is much like the one a dog wears when it's not sure if it is about to be kicked.

  He might as well kick me with his next words.

  “This can’t happen again…”

  When I hold his troubled gaze, hurt fires in my eyes and erupts into a flame in my stomach. It is a full minute, maybe more, when I realise I haven’t answered. It almost feels like a slap in the face and not the 'wake up' kind. I have this sudden sense of abandonment.

  The way he kissed me, touched me … and then this? It's a contradiction that leaves me feeling like I am suffering from a bad case of whiplash, and I wonder if I’m not good enough.

  No.

  No, I won’t doubt my self-worth. I am good enough. And I deserve better than this. This isn’t about me.

  This is about him.

  My hurt turns to anger and my eyes become spiteful slits. “That’s low,” I whisper hotly, the pain and anger palatable in my voice. “This was one of the most incredible nights of my life and—” I give a short, mirthless laugh. “—and you regret it?” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice, but it is nothing compared to the way my heart feels inside my chest.

  He is still shaking his head, and it only further infuriates my indignation. “Felicity, I didn’t mean—”

  He tries to reach out but I smack his hand away, curling in on myself at the same time, wrapping my arms around my waist in some kind of vain attempt at protecting myself from the way he is making my stomach feel.

  “Fuck. You.” I spit out the words with as much venom as I can muster.

  Something twists painfully in my gut as I turn and walk briskly away, without another word, listening to the clicking sound of my heels echoing off the walls in the hollow alleyway.

  I leave him alone in the dead of the night to stand with his regrets … my own falling close behind.

  10

  “THE MAN SHOULD CHASE THE WOMAN. HE SHOULD WIN HER HEART.”

  FELICITY

  “BIG PENIS?”

  “MmmHmmm,” I mumble, looking up from the dough I’m kneading to find Delphine leaning over the kitchen table, reading the ‘Pros and Cons of The Tempest’ list that I’ve written in my notebook.

  She frowns. “But you’ve listed it under cons.”

  I dig the heels of my palms into the cool elastic dough and shake my head. “And your point is?”

  “Babe, how is that a negative?”

  “It’ll probably hurt too much to enjoy.”

  When I look up at her, she is staring at me like I've just said something outrageous. “Remember Antonio? The big Italian rugby player I dated in our second year?” I nod. “Trust me, it did not hurt. And I haven’t found a man who can satisfy me since Antonio.” She sighs, studying the list again.

  The memory of cumming over Lenic’s hand in the alleyway is a thorn pricking my hot and muddled thoughts. “Interesting you mentioning that. Because I’m thinking about sending Lenic an email: ‘Thanks for making sure I won't walk properly for days because of your terrifying range of sexual techniques with just your fingers. And thanks for ruining my sex life with all the other only-one-technique men. Keep up the bastard work.’ Do you think that’s too much?”

  “Overkill, babe.”

  I glance over at the cookies on the cooling rack. "Any chance you could put those in one of those Tupperware containers. I’m going over to West’s place tomorrow and he doesn’t let me in unless I’ve got my homemade cookies with me.”

  “Sure. Just make sure you leave plenty for me.” I hear the lid of the tin come off, followed by the sounds of cookies sliding against the thin aluminium surface. “I hope you’ve listed him saving you from drowning as a pro. I remember that moment so vividly. The way he ran so fast, and stripped off his T-shirt before he jumped in. It was so freaking hot. My mouth hung open so wide I think I must’ve flashed him my tonsils.”

  “As long as that’s all you flashed him.”

  “I think you flashed him enough for a lifetime. And don’t forget your little strip show.” She laughs.

  I groan. “Don’t remind me.”

  “So, what is going on between you and Lenic?”

  I keep my e
yes on the dough in front of me, punching the air out of it. The rolling anger of the last few days had me imagining Lenic’s face every time I did this. The torturous time I’ve spent around him and the damn knowing that all is not right with him, prevents me from conjuring up his features under my knuckles this morning.

  “God only knows. Whenever we’re together, whenever I’m near him, something happens. I can’t explain it. It’s like there’s this raw, animal attraction between us and we can't seem to keep our hands off each other.” I roll the dough up again and wrap it in cellophane to rise for a second time.

  “For once, wouldn’t you like something more than just someone to mess around with?”

  Lenic and I have only just met. It shouldn’t be this serious or complicated yet. Where is the harm in having some fun?

  I look at her. “You know I don’t do love. And that’s the problem.” My shoulders sag. “The way Cross was talking about Lenic, and from what I’ve gotten to know about him myself — he isn’t a player. No wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”

  And that scares me.

  I dust the cutting board with flour and grab the next ball of dough. As I unwrap it, I go on. “He never once satisfied his own needs the other night. It was as if he only cared about pleasuring me. And he did it so well…”

  “I went out with a guy once who only went down on me. He refused to sleep with me. He could only cum from giving me oral.”

  “That is … that’s weird.”

  “Actually, I quite liked it. It made me feel like his queen.”

  “I could have gone through life quite well without knowing that piece of information.”

  She shrugs. “We’re getting off subject. What is it about Lenic then that makes you so sure?”

  Brushing my flour-covered hands on my apron, I lean my back against the counter, weighing things up in my head, and try to balance out the complications.

  “I guess … it’s the way he looks at me. The way he doesn't look at other women. The compliments he gives me every time he sees me. The way he holds my hand. The way he kisses me, touches me. The way he gives me this lopsided flirtatious grin that he only seems to reserve for me.”

  I realise I am smiling involuntarily, and my cheeks are prickling with heat. “Honestly, Delphine, this is the first time I’m not plagued with doubt that a guy isn’t into me as much as I am into him.” I look her in the eye. “I’ve never had that kind of assurance before.” I feel a faint smile tug on my lips.

  She smiles back. “But why did he blow hot then cold on you at the fundraiser?”

  Initially, I’ll admit, I wanted to create a Lenic Reevus voodoo doll and curse him forever. But after a few nights of sleep, I now have a vague idea on why he went cold on me, one I couldn’t see in the red haze of my anger.

  In my experience, when someone tries to keep you from getting too close, it’s because they have something to hide.

  I glance to the side in thought. “He’s pushing me away for some reason, putting up a wall. I’ve noticed … I don’t know…” I sigh, rubbing my arm. “It’s as if he stops himself from...” I trail off, reluctant to go on.

  “Stops himself from what?

  I meet her gaze. “From living.”

  She nods slowly. “You might be right. About him putting up a wall.”

  “You think?” I ask, hopefully. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, Jack was a little drunk at the fundraiser, and he let slip that a few years ago something happened, and Lenic left the Navy, out of the blue, then just disappeared for half a year. He’s never been the same since. Jack said Lenic used to be a ‘right riot’ with the lads and now he doesn’t even laugh, taking life serious all the time. But the boys have started seeing a hint of the old Lenic they used to know and love ... since you came along.”

  “I didn’t know … What could have happened?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Jack doesn’t have a clue. He said Lenic bites his neck off, then shuts down whenever he tries to talk to him about it.” Her smile is warm, sending me a visual hug. “OK, has this list helped you decide what you’re going to do?”

  I shrug. “No. It’s bloody confused me even more. Most of the cons are pros. My futile list has somehow turned him into Superman.”

  “Forget the list. Sometimes you need to listen with your heart and not your mind.” She rips the paper out from my notebook, scrunches it up into a ball, and throws it in the bin. “Ask yourself: what is it that you want?”

  “I want all the colours of the rainbow sex with him. I want to screw hard and fast, slow and sensual.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Be serious, Flick.”

  Pondering for a bit, I smile for one, brief moment. “I like spending time with him. Alone time. I guess it would be nice to go out on an official date.”

  Dates always lead to one thing: SEX.

  “Go over to the gym and ask him out,” she suggests.

  I'm not chasing after him. If that is what he wants, he is dreaming in Technicolor.

  “He’s the man. He should ask me out.” Turning back, I cut off a quarter cup of cold butter into the flour and then dig my fingers into it.

  “You’re being sexist. I do it all the time.”

  “I’m being a traditionalist. The man should chase the woman. He should win her heart.”

  FOR THE REST of the afternoon, I bury myself in work. Filming a couple of make-up tutorials, Delphine and I finish the last piece of editing before cracking open a bottle of wine downstairs. Setting my iPod onto the dock, I select a relaxing playlist and lounge on the sofa.

  “Bitch face,” Delphine says.

  Cross rang her earlier in the afternoon, inviting her to a private WBC party this weekend at an exclusive venue in Queens Oak. Only the rich and famous are invited. To my surprise, she accepted. I asked her what happened to the investment broker.

  “He said he couldn’t put up with my moods. Constant bitch face, he said. Can you believe that? I told him I’m misunderstood because I have a resting bitch face.”

  “He’s an idiot, Del. Don’t listen to a word he said. I’ve never met a broker who didn’t put me to sleep, and he sounds like he lack’s any social intelligence. Rest assured, you don’t have a bitch face.”

  She does.

  A beautiful, stunning one, but her features are harsh and striking. Tall and thin, she was scouted as a model in the streets of Paris at age fourteen.

  “I do. A permanent one.” She slumps down on the sofa. “Whenever I tell a joke, people don’t laugh thinking I’m being serious.”

  I smile warmly at her, swirling the remnants of wine in my glass. “Delphine, you have a killer smile.”

  “Yes, but what you are forgetting, Flick — when I smile, it looks like I’m trying to take over the world.” I laugh. “My angry face and my happy face are the same.”

  My friend Delphine Bray uses hand movements more than she talks. And she talks a lot. Stresses a lot too. But she is kind and generous, always there for me when I need a shoulder to lean on.

  “That bastard dumped me. Can you believe that? Over the phone. Phone. He said I didn’t flirt. But I did. It’s my resting bitch face. He thought I was pissed off with him all the time.”

  “Were you even officially going out?”

  “We nearly were. He had such potential. A real job, a real future … Oh, Flick, will I ever find the one?” Delphine is the type of girl who has her whole wedding planned in a folder.

  “Do what I’m doing. If you wait long enough then your standards will drop. Then loads of guys come along when you need it.”

  We drink more wine, dancing the night away, getting extremely tipsy. I lean into Delphine, pitching my voice low, real low, as I say, “Hi. I’m Lenic Reevus. A Royal Marine. I’m really horny with highly-skilled hands, who’s riding a big boat, and occasionally I get curious.”

  Delphine giggles dramatically, batting her eyelashes and pretends to swoon, adopting her best bimbo voice. “Hi, I’m
Felicity Saint James. I’m in love with Lenic Reevus because he has such a huge penis and I can’t stop touching myself thinking about it. I don’t do anything else these days. I don’t eat, bathe or sleep.”

  “Shut up,” I laugh, and cuff her on the cheek playfully.

  My phone dings in my pocket signalling a text message. It’s West. I sent him a text earlier asking him if he’d like to do something on Saturday night. Delphine’s attending this party with Cross, and that will mean being alone in the house. Reading his message I frown.

  West: Can’t, sorry. Got a WBC function. Can’t get out of this one, babe. See you tmrw. Missing you lots xxxxx

  I feel a sting of rejection in the pit of my stomach, realising everyone is invited to the party, except me. The knowledge of Lenic’s attendance suddenly makes me feel strangely abandoned.

  I feel excluded.

  “Who’s that?” Delphine asks.

  I pour myself a large glass of wine. “West.”

  “Oh…” I drink half the glass of the cool red liquid. “You sleeping with him?”

  I spit out the wine in my mouth. “No,” I hiss, swiping a hand over my wet mouth. “God no. He’s like my brother. Why on earth did you ask such a question?”

  “I don’t know. You two are so close … and … I’ve seen the way he looks at you sometimes…”

  I pull a surprised face. “I don’t know what you’ve seen, but you have it wrong. I think you need to book in with an optician.”

  “But, he is stunningly handsome. Have you two never, you know, done it?”

  “I’ve known him way too long now for it to be anything else. He was my only friend in this town growing up.” I swallow the memory of my childhood away with more wine. “Wait, do you like him?”

  She shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. “I might have a teeny tiny crush on him. He’s so lovely to me, a real gentleman. We spent the whole night talking at your birthday last year. But, he is way above my league. He’s always going out with beautiful women with exotic faces … that’s why I thought maybe you two were…”

  “Stop it. You’re being absurd. You’re a sex kitten. A French sex kitten.” That investment broker has done a number on her. She is more affected by the rejection than I realised. “You make me so hot, Delphine Bray. Come here.” I wrap an arm around her neck. “Let me kiss that sexy bitch face of yours away.” We laugh together and pour more wine.