Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  Rupert smiled. “Ashley seems to like him. They’ve been working together for a few months now and she thinks he’s doing really well. And if Elisabeth has her way, he’ll be promoted to executive status pretty soon.”

  “What?”

  Rupert laughed, “Don’t worry, your job’s safe.”

  But James wasn’t smiling.

  Rupert noticed this. “What’s going on?” He asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just, with all of this funny business with the shares. Introducing strangers into the company doesn’t seem wise.”

  “James, we’re a multinational. We hire people all the time.”

  “You know what I mean. Introduce them into the inner circle. Allow them to get close.”

  “He’s hardly a stranger,” Rupert defended.

  “To the company he is. I mean, the guy didn’t even have any editorial experience, did he? Yet he’s managed somehow to get onto Ashley’s team. I just don’t think it’s wise to job create for people just because they happen to be banging your cousin.”

  Rupert was taken aback. “Wow, that’s a bit strong, isn’t it? For your information, Adam happens to be more than qualified to be working with Ash. He has a lot of journalistic experience, along with a bunch of honours in media studies or something of that ilk. Ash checked out his CV and his references, and she was pretty impressed, hence why she hired him. You know her. You know how she feels about Elisabeth. She’s hardly going to do my cousin any favours. She hired Adam on merit.”

  James realised he may have overreached. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  Rupert nodded. “I know you’re only doing what you’ve always done; you’re looking out for us, and I appreciate it, although I get the distinct impression that there’s more to this. Is there?”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door, it opened and Adam stepped in.

  “I’ve been told to come and get you for supper,” he said with a smile.

  “Thanks, Adam,” Rupert said, standing up. He then slapped a hand on James’ shoulder, “Come on, old grizzles,” he said loudly causing Adam to laugh unnecessarily loud.

  James pulled a fake grin which he lost as soon as he crossed eyes with Adam, killing the man’s laughter, instantly.

  5 THE SUPPER

  During her house exploration, Ashley had discovered a collection of records; one of them was a compilation of thirties classics. It was playing on an old record player in the dining room that was situated at the back of the house, with an enviable daytime view of the lake.

  The dulcet tones of Billie Holiday blended beautifully with the opulent red and gold colours of the dining room, recreating an era far gone, but forever revered.

  Ashley and Isabella had tastefully laid the dining table with gold rimmed china, red candles and gleaming silverware that they found neatly stacked away in various kitchen cupboards.

  Dinner was Spaghetti a la Bolognese, courtesy of Isabella, who may have been of Polish descent, but appeared to have all the skills of a Mediterranean chef.

  Initially, Elisabeth turned her nose up at the food, but then managed to devour her whole plate and even wipe it clean with a bread roll.

  Clarence, Kenning Hall’s administrator, had ensured that the wine cellar was well stocked. This meant that the alcohol flowed abundantly and thus adequately loosened tongues.

  True to the radio forecast earlier in the day, the weather had changed, and a northerly gale, with light rain, tapped on the window as if eager to join in the evening’s events.

  The guests of Kenning Hall were oblivious to this since most were well passed sobriety, and deeply immersed in a series of diverse topics that ranged, from politics to reincarnation.

  It turned out that Isabella was quite an authority on the latter, having spent a lot of time sitting in the corner of a tent while her mother read Tarot cards and peered into a crystal ball for a living.

  The profession was nothing but an elaborate illusion, but it fired little Isabella’s imagination. She used what she had learned to intrigue her dinner partners with stories of fortune telling and psychic reading. Even Rupert, a disbeliever, found her stories fascinating.

  “So, Isabella, what you’re saying is that we’re all just bits of energy piloting the shells that are our bodies, and that when we die, we leave said shell and float off to find another. And that can belong to any animal, like a dog or cat?”

  “Something like that, yes,” Isabella smiled.

  “So, when someone sees a ghost, what they are seeing is just this energy?” Adam asked.

  “Yes,” Isabella nodded.

  “Well, how come some people see them and others don’t?” That was Elisabeth’s petulant contribution.

  Isabella shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of us are able to tune into this energy and others aren’t. It’s a bit like tuning into a television.”

  “And that’s your scientific answer, is it?”

  “Elisabeth, I’m not a scientist. This is just my belief,” Isabella replied, patiently.

  “So what about poltergeists?” Ashley asked more solemnly than she had intended, just as a gale whistled around the building.

  They all looked at each other for a few seconds and then, like a bunch of silly schoolchildren, exploded into fits of laughter.

  Rupert mimicked her ominous tone, “Oooh, what about poltergeists?” and then added through chuckles, “Bloody hell, babe, you’ll have us wetting ourselves!”

  Ashley laughed. “Sorry, it sounded worse than it was supposed to.”

  “Yeah, well, let me just warn you, if you carry on like that, I’m sleeping with you two tonight!” James said.

  More laughter.

  “So… what about them, Isabella?” Rupert prompted.

  “Well, we all know that poltergeist is German for noisy spirit. I believe that a poltergeist is a frustrated spirit or energy, unable to leave this life and move on to the next.”

  “But haven't we just finished saying that ghosts are just harmless energy?” It was Adam speaking.

  “Yes, but I believe that, in this case, the mother and child principle applies.”

  “Mother and child?”

  “Yes. You’ve all heard about it; child is stuck under motor vehicle, mother lifts the vehicle and saves her child.”

  “Oh please,” Elisabeth sneered.

  “There are many documented cases proving this theory,” Isabella continued.

  “How does this relate to poltergeists?”

  “Well, as I say, a poltergeist is a frustrated spirit. Just like the mother defies nature so does it. Such is the energy generated by its anger, its rage that it’s able to interact with our physical world.”

  “But why? Why would it want to?”

  Isabella shrugged, “I don’t know. Myth tells us that these entities cannot move on because they have been wronged by something or someone, but I really don’t know. I haven't personally experienced this. Like the rest of you, I’ve only heard stories.”

  “What kind of stories?” Rupert asked.

  “Ghost stories. People or houses plagued by poltergeist who have been known to scratch, speak or physically touch people.”

  There was storyteller seriousness to Isabella’s words. It had captivated the attention of the diners, whilst riling the elements outside; rain spat at the windows, and a wailing cold draught crashed the dinner party by forcing itself through the gap under the door.

  “In one case a married couple had been happily living in their home for over ten years when, suddenly, they started to hear unidentifiable scratching sounds from the ceiling and walls. Objects would disappear then reappear days later in different parts of the house. They’d hear whispers and, most frightening, they had a constant feeling of being watched. Eventually, believing the house had something to do with the haunting, the couple moved, but the manifestations continued until, one day, they end as abruptly as they start.

  Later they learn that on that same day, the wife had in
vited the next door neighbour and her three-year-old son to the home. The little boy, while he play, he knock over and smashed a vase. That’s when she realise that it was since she had bought that vase that the trouble had begun. It seemed that by bringing the vase home, the woman had somehow invited the entity, which had attached itself to the object, into her house.”

  A loud scratching sound made everybody around the table physically jump in their seats; the needle had slipped on the record player.

  They gawked at each other and then, once again, burst into fits of laughter.

  “That’s it! No more wine for you,” James said, removing the glass from in front of Isabella, to everybody else’s amusement.

  And so the night moved on with more supernatural tales and more laughter.

  It was nearly 01:00 am when they finally retired to their respective rooms.

  Rupert was beyond tipsy, and was lying back on the bed as Ashley unbuttoned his shirt. His hair was tousled, where she had run her hands through it moments before, and he had a smile on his face as she planted kisses on his navel. He murmured his appreciation and looked down at her. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze. She was smiling.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, resting her face on his belly and enjoying how it rose and fell with each breath he took.

  “I’m just so proud of you.”

  Rupert grinned. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. Just the way you were with everybody tonight,” she sighed, “the way everyone relaxes around you. All that stuff about ghosts, it couldn’t have been easy. Even Isabella seemed to take a shine to you and, despite your cousin’s constant put-downs, seemed to enjoy herself tonight.”

  Rupert nodded his head, “Ah, well, I would like to take the credit for that, but I think the wine played a crucial part.”

  There was silence between them as the wind howled at the balcony windows.

  Rupert played with Ashley’s hair and marvelled at how it shone, crimson, in the lamplight. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch and listening to him breathing. The sound was mesmerising.

  “It’s amazing,” she said, distantly.

  “What is?”

  “To think that over a year ago, you didn’t even know I existed and now…” she trailed off.

  “And now?”

  “And now I’m incredibly happy. I just wish my father could have met you.”

  “So do I, Ash. And if he was anything like you, then I know he’d be an amazing man.”

  “He was.”

  “What do you remember about him?”

  There was a pause as if Ashley, eyes still closed, were searching her memory for images of her father.

  “Blackberry jam.”

  “Blackberry jam?”

  “He used to take me blackberry picking. Of course, we’d spend the first half hour or so eating the blackberries. By the time I got home, I’d be one big black stain. My mum would throw a fit. She hated us doing stuff together because she knew that my dad didn’t care about how I looked, he was much more interested in making sure I was happy. I was devastated when he died, we were so close.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve, I couldn’t get over it.”

  “What about your mother?”

  Ashley paused and then said, flatly, “We just didn’t get along. I don’t really remember much about her. Just certain things, fragments. It’s strange, it’s like she existed, but she’s just like some shadow lurking in my past.”

  “Both of my parents featured heavily in my life. At least they did before Ben died.”

  There was sadness in Rupert’s voice.

  Then there was silence but for the howling wind that appeared to be getting worse.

  “Tell me more about your parents, Ash, you hardly ever talk about them,” Rupert said.

  She took a few seconds. “Well, after my father died, my mother just faded away,” she said.

  “Faded?”

  She looked up at him and said, solemnly, “I love you.”

  He smiled. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she replied, earnestly.

  “Feel like showing me just how much?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  She looked down and noticed that he had not been immune to her closeness.

  She giggled. “That’s what I love about you; always ready for action.”

  She kissed her way up his chest until their mouths met. Then, without breaking the lingering kiss for longer than was necessary, she manoeuvred herself until she was in a sitting position on top of him. He was still clothed from the waist down, and she enjoyed feeling the encased hardness beneath her.

  He smiled a sleepy smile at her as she teased by rubbing her rear on him, gently feeling for that mound of pleasure. Rupert took his cue and pushed both of her dress straps onto her shoulders, and was delighted to discover that she was not wearing a bra.

  Ashley leant back allowing the dress to slide further, aided by his fingers that were now tracing their way, delicately, down from her slender neck all the way down to her now exposed breasts. He lingered on her nipples, running circles around them with his finger and then promptly replacing it with his mouth. He kissed and nipped them gently making her gasp.

  Ashley enjoyed the sensation for a few more seconds before she pulled back abruptly, but only to unbutton and unzip him as fast as she could. Then, their eyes met once again and they kissed, hungrily, greedily each yearning to unleash the passion that had been suppressed since their earlier encounter.

  When they emerged for air, he took a few more seconds to enjoy her breasts, running his hands over them, down to her slender waist and then under her skirt where he searched the mounds of velvet red fabric. It felt delicious to the touch as did her skin.

  Then, once inside, he pushed the soft material up her thighs, gently enough to tickle her in the process. Then, with one lightning movement, he tugged at her underwear, ripping the dainty fabric with ease.

  Ashley was as surprised as she was turned on by the action. The underwear had been a Victoria’s Secret gift from one of his many trips to America, and they were her favourites, but she had no time to consider this for his finger was probing the evidence between her thighs that she had enjoyed the action.

  She squirmed from the feeling of his fingers at the entrance to her sensual world, and sucked in gasps of air as he ventured deeper. His touch was as exquisite as her arousal that was amplified by the love she felt for this man. It fed her compulsion to feel him inside her.

  She lifted herself slightly so that she could take control, but he had already had the initiative and, within seconds, had freed himself and was pulling her back down onto him, invoking a small whimper of pleasure, as if she had only just discovered his size.

  Ashley searched Rupert’s chest with her hands, then took both of his arms and pushed them onto the pillow above his head.

  She was going to take it from here.

  Rupert offered no resistance. Instead, he closed his eyes and smiled as Ashley absorbed all of him into her as deeply as she could, breathing with delirious pleasure as she did so. Then she moved, slowly at first, savouring every delicious stroke, and she enjoyed this for a while until it was his turn, and, in one move, he flipped them over so that she was now on her back and him between her legs.

  There, he pushed deep once more, as her hands, low on his back, urged him forward, deeper and faster.

  They both revelled in the intoxication of the act which rapidly reached its climax, amplified by the fact that they were finally able to satisfy that which had been denied erstwhile.

  6 MONDAY

  Monday morning arrived too soon with the sound of pelting rain against balcony doors.

  It was 07:30, and Ashley, already dressed in a grey suit and white blouse, was applying the final touches of her makeup in the hallway mirror.

  She smiled to herself; it had been a good weekend.

 
; The sun had shone brightly on Sunday, in complete contrast to the day before. The wind had been cold but, dressed warmly, they had toured the estate.

  They came across an excavation area near the lake. Rupert explained that the deep holes, that had been covered over with planks of wood and cordoned off by yellow barriers, would house the foundations of a giant gazebo. It was being built in memory of his twin brother.

  It had been Clarence’s suggestion, and one Rupert believed was fitting, considering that the brothers had spent a lot of happy times there.

  It was a poignant moment for those present, made light by Rupert who recounted, in dramatic detail, tales of his childhood mischievousness.

  Later, they had picnicked near a fallen tree in the woods behind the house, much to Elisabeth’s displeasure, for she did not take well to lunching with wood lice, crows and even a pair of grey squirrels!

  In the afternoon, they played competitive tennis, boys against girls; of course, the girls had thrashed the boys but nothing new there.

  Then, they had set off on their way home, during which Rupert had resurrected the ever so familiar subject of her moving in with him. This had become a ritual between them, especially after they had spent the day with each other. He would highlight how right it all felt and how it made perfect sense that they live together.

  But Ashley had always resisted the idea.

  She wasn’t keen on moving in with her boss, at least, not as his girlfriend, mistress, lover or whatever the hell she was to him.

  Even if her whole apartment could fit three times into his penthouse.

  She had worked hard to make a career for herself and, as much as she didn’t believe in living her life for others, she didn’t want people to undervalue her achievements by attributing her career progression to the fact that she was sleeping with the C.E.O.

  And, every time she thought about their relationship in this way, it made her cringe. Not just because it portrayed her as yet another cliché, but it undermined what she and Rupert actually had together.

  And what they had was good. No, it wasn’t good, it was excellent and, most importantly, it was real.