by Viva Jones
But then came a voice he dreaded. ‘Richard, just the man I need to speak to.’ Ginnie, wearing a yellow caftan, bombed round the pool to greet him. ‘I need to pick your brains,’ she started, a defiant look in her eyes. ‘About corporate Cyprus. Sponsorship, that kind of thing.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that I can really help you,’ he started hesitantly as he spotted Anna sitting up attentively.
‘You know what’s going on in this place. I need help.’
‘Help with what, Ginnie?’ Anna asked.
‘Tiggles, of course. I need to start a campaign to encourage people to neuter their toms. There’s far too much feline aids being transmitted, and it’s got to stop. Only the other day we had to put down two sufferers, and it’s just not fair. So I want to launch a campaign, but I’ve got to get a backer somehow. Some company or other with the same objectives, a company which wants to do some good in this world and not just sit on fat profits all the time.’
Richard sighed. She was preventing him from getting that beer he so justly deserved. ‘And who did you have in mind?’ He started making for his house.
‘That’s just it, I can’t come up with anyone,’ Ginnie replied persistently, following him. ‘But you know what’s going on, you know who’s investing in what, which companies are open to philanthropic issues. You must surely have some idea?’
Richard stopped, not having a clue what to say next. Who did she think he was, George Soros? ‘I’m sorry, Ginnie, I really don’t think I can help you. Most of the companies I come into contact with are looking for finance themselves. I’m hardly in a position to - ‘
He was interrupted by the arrival of Tanya, wearing an elegant summer dress and towering sandals. Her hair was thick and shiny and backcombed to look fuller, and she wore an oversized pair of sunglasses on the tip of her nose.
‘You’re looking very lovely,’ he told her.
‘Thank you, Richard. Been for a swim, have you? Getting yourself fit?’
‘That’s right. And now I’m off for a beer to undo all my good work.’ Richard snatched the chance to escape.
Nathalie sat up now, admiring Tanya’s elegance. And suddenly she had an idea.
‘Why not a property developer, like Odyssey?’ she suggested. ‘If they’re investing millions in developing upmarket new complexes, they probably wouldn’t want the place crawling with cats, now, would they? Wouldn’t it be in their interests to sponsor a neutering campaign?’
Ginnie turned to Nathalie in amazement, as if she’d just kicked a locked door wide open. ‘Why have I never thought of that? Nathalie, you’re a genius! And Tanya, we’ve got to talk!’
Chapter Sixteen
As July drew to an end, the heat was stultifying. The air was devoid of any breeze, and all around her, the land seemed to be turning brown before Nathalie’s eyes. Just walking to her car left her with beads of sweat trickling down her back, and the plants on her terrace wilted at midday, no matter how much water she gave them. At night it didn’t let up, either, the air remained hot and still, like a blanket she couldn’t shrug off.
As she lay there, sleeplessly and drenched in her own sweat, Nathalie could hear raised voices coming from Anna and Richard’s house next door. So the heat was getting to them, too. She felt like an eavesdropper. Had he found out about her and Anna, she wondered. Was he jealous, angry, humiliated; would there be a knock on her door any minute; anger and recriminations?
Nathalie longed to be in the sea, floating on her back and staring at the moon, with only the sound of her own breath in her ears. But she’d had a beer and a couple of glasses of wine earlier, and didn’t like to drive. She got up and grabbed a towel, then made her way outside. She could still hear voices coming from number eight, and hoped that they were nothing more than a symptom of heat irritation. Certain that no-one could see her, she dived in and swam most of one length underwater. Then she flipped over onto her back and floated, letting the water soothe her.
***
Next door, Richard had woken up to find his wife masturbating, again, by his side. He’d tried to join in but she’d shoved him aside like an unwanted gift.
‘Have we come to this?’ he asked her. ‘My wife masturbates while I’m asleep? Is that our marriage?’
‘Oh Richard, for God’s sake.’ Anna was feeling particularly snippy in the heat. ‘We both know our sex life is a disaster and has been since our wedding. I have needs, and you’re not fulfilling them.’
‘A chance would be a fine thing - let me try?’
‘Oh that’s right, fifteen seconds of pleasure, silly me. Go on then.’ She opened her legs wide and raised her hands above her head. ‘Or won’t it stay up tonight, which treat have you got in store for me?’
Richard, who’d had an additional beer before bedtime to cool down, climbed to his knees, visibly angry. ‘Some of the things you say are deeply wounding. Emasculating. What you need is a good fuck.’
She raised herself up, meeting him face to face. ‘No, Richard,’ she hissed. ‘What I need is a good orgasm, there’s a big difference; not that I get either from you.’
He paused, winded, scared of where this was heading. ‘Perhaps if you paid me a little attention there - ‘
‘Oh it’s all my fault, is it? You need blowjobs, don’t you? OK then.’ Angrily Anna sank down to take his cock, which was fast retreating, in her mouth. She spat it out in disgust. ‘Pathetic.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice choking. He slumped back down on the bed, his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry to be such a disaster. I don’t know how I can change things. Maybe it’s time we faced facts and I let you go. Get divorced. Don’t worry, I’ll be generous. That way you can go back to London, find someone else. Be happy. I love you and I want you to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I can’t do anything for you.’
Anna let his words sink in, feeling her whole life slipping away with them, as if he’d opened up a large hole and she was tumbling down inside it. ‘Richard! I don’t want to leave here.’
‘You hate it. You’re always saying - ‘
‘Things have changed. I want to stay. I’m not ready for divorce. I’m sorry. I know I’m impatient and that I can be a bitch, but more than anything, I want our marriage to work.’
‘You have no idea how happy that makes me.’ Richard stifled his tears. He wrapped his wife in his arms and breathed in the warm smell of her hair. ‘I don’t want a divorce, and I don’t want to lose you, either. I’m sorry for being so useless.’
‘You’re not useless,’ Anna told him. ‘You’re just troubled. And I wish you’d tell me why.’
Richard fell silent. Not that, he thought. Please let’s not get into all that.
‘Until you do we’ll never resolve things,’ she went on.
‘Nothing happened.’ Richard hated himself for the lie. ‘It’s just been work and the move here and a feeling that I’ve never been enough for you, never been good enough. You hate it here and that makes me feel guilty. And so the circle continues.’
‘My fault?’ Anna bristled.
‘You see? There we go again. Of course it’s not your fault.’
Anna held him, feeling safe in his arms, breathing in his masculinity. She didn’t remotely believe that nothing had happened, but decided against pursuing it. She had her own secret, after all. She thought of Nathalie, and realised that, as much as she adored the sex they shared, it was here, in her husband’s arms, that she belonged. Suddenly, an idea came into her head.
‘You like Nathalie, don’t you?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘She’s very beautiful.’
‘I hadn’t really noticed.’
‘You liar!’ Anna had to laugh, thumping his chest in affection. ‘Do you think you’d be able to keep it up for her?’
‘What?’
‘Could you perform for her?’
‘Anna, what a thing to ask.’
‘What if it was the three of us? How would you manage then? What would you do, eh?’ Her hand brushed against his cock, stroking him.
‘Where has this come from?’
‘Just imagine, if I was Nathalie, how would you feel? What would you want to do?’ She continued stroking as Richard’s cock grew stiff in her hands. ‘This was her hand, perhaps covered in one of her sensual oil mixtures. How would you want to fuck her, on all fours? Or face to face, kissing her lips and throat?’
Richard groaned as his cock reached full size.
‘Her breasts, I bet you’ve dreamed of kissing her breasts. Would you lick then, bite them, how would you handle them?’
‘It’s you I want to make love to,’ Richard said, climbing astride his wife.
‘Imagine this is her pussy, imagine it’s her you’re entering. What do you want to do?’ Anna let her hand glide down the crack of Richard’s bum, tickling him lightly with her fingers. ‘Do you want to go down on her? Open up her pussy lips? To feel her clitoris against your tongue? How about her bottom, would you lick there too?’
At this, Richard thrust harder and groaned, coming fiercely inside Anna. Just imagining her husband fucking Nathalie had been a serious turn-on, and the thought of Richard’s cock coming inside her tipped her over the edge and, to her own incredulity, Anna thrashed beneath him, finding herself in a deep and powerful orgasm, like being caught out by a surprise hurricane, or whirled up in the midst of a tornado.
‘Anna, what were you thinking?’ he asked once he’d recovered his breath.
‘It worked, didn’t it?’
‘But Nathalie? I feel like we’ve just abused the poor woman.’
‘She could take it.’ She pictured her lover with them now. ‘What if we did? Have a threesome I mean?’
‘Anna, what’s got into you all of a sudden?’
‘I’d be open to it.’ She wanted to feel jealous again, Anna realised. Like in the old days, whenever Richard mentioned his ex, Helen, with whom he’d travelled to Australia and South-East Asia, and who’d apparently embodied womanly perfection, at least until she’d dumped him. Anna wanted to feel that sharp pang of envy again, that destructive emotion that told her she was alive, and that she loved with heat and passion. Without it, there was only indifference, which slowly ate away at the soul. She imagined the delicious hopelessness she’d feel watching her husband and her lover fucking, studying his cock as it slid inside Nathalie’s cunt, taking feverish licks at both of them, like a servant trying to please her masters. With these thoughts in her head, Anna fell into a deep and sensual sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Nigel, would you take a look at this, please?’ Ginnie asked.
‘What’s that, then?’ Nigel Wentworth looked up from his tea. They’d finished serving breakfasts and had cleaned out all the litter trays. Now was a quiet time until new residents started coming in or, more hopefully, prospective owners. Yesterday they’d re-housed two cats, which was a terrific achievement, and in return had been given some fair-sized donations.
‘It’s a proposal I’ve drafted,’ Ginnie told him. ‘On behalf of Tiggles to the Odyssey Property Company.’
‘A proposal?’ Nigel looked baffled. ‘What kind of proposal?’
‘Sponsorship. For an awareness campaign. You know, getting cats neutered to reduce the spread of feline aids? We did talk about it. We can’t carry on just putting cats to sleep because they’re infected, we’ve got to get to the cause of the problem itself. I feel quite strongly about this. And I think this is the company that might help us. You know they’re building the Odyssey Villas north of Paphos, as well as several other prestigious developments around Limassol and Ayia Napia? The last thing they want is to have loads of stray cats running around the place when they’re trying to position themselves as luxury, exclusive estates. I think they’ll be the ideal candidates to sponsor a neutering scheme. It’s all written up here.’
She watched nervously as Nigel skimmed through her work. How she wanted to make a difference.
‘And do we know anyone at the Odyssey Property Company?’
Ginnie flashed him a triumphant smile. ‘Oh yes, I have a personal contact there. We’ve had tentative discussions, and she’s willing to put it forward to the powers-that-be.’
For once, Nigel looked impressed. ‘Good show, Ginnie. And you’re willing to oversee everything?’
Ginnie saw a look in Nigel’s eye, and realised something very simple - he was only asking because he himself wasn’t. A former accountant who preferred computers and cats to people, Nigel had never been one for rocking the boat.
‘Absolutely,’ she said with confidence, her heart soaring. This was a real project! This was how she’d really get herself noticed! Ginnie could already picture the articles in the Cypriot press and the celebrity she’d become on the island. People might recognise her in supermarkets! Perhaps they could include her in one of those Brits abroad type programmes, to show what a success one could make of one’s life if only one had the courage and perseverance. She might go on to turn all this into a global campaign, become a leading authority on the subject and make appearances on breakfast TV.
‘Go for it, Ginnie, and good luck.’ Nigel raised his mug. ‘You have my full backing. Oh, and did you remember the worming tablets for Dennis?’
‘Yes I did,’ Ginnie told him, her fantasy somewhat deflated. ‘And thank you,’ she added. ‘This project means a lot to me. I’m going to give it my best shot.’
She drove home later looking forward to a fresh fruit smoothie and a dip in the pool. Some of the DVDs she’d ordered the other night had arrived, and she’d decided to have a healthy supper and indulge in a few hours of Downton Abbey. And once Tanya got home she’d give her the document and they’d plan the next stage. A sober Ginnie would write proposals and research statistics, and achieve something genuinely useful with her life.
She was just whizzing up some peaches, a frozen banana and some freshly squeezed orange juice when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Douglas there, holding out a damaged package.
‘This came for you, only it got ripped in the post. The postman didn’t want to leave it outside your door, and I was the first person he came across.’
Ginnie took the package, wondering what on earth else she’d ordered.
‘Seems you’re in for a good evening,’ Douglas added, his face nearly exploding in mirth as a bright pink vibrator fell out of the box.
Ginnie gasped. ‘There’s got to be some mistake?’
‘It’s your name on the address label.’
Next, a bottle of lubricator clattered out onto the paving stones, along with a contraption Ginnie could barely begin to identify.
‘This has got to be a joke,’ Ginnie insisted.
‘I’m not here to judge,’ Douglas told her, before turning away. A few footsteps later and his stifled laughter exploded, although at least he had the decency, Ginnie acknowledged, to make it sound like a coughing fit.
She rushed inside, hoping no-one else had seen anything. Then she opened up the package properly and went through the toys. As well as the vibrator and lubricant, the unidentifiable object, apparently, lapped at the clitoris like a tongue. Why oh why, Ginnie thought in despair, did it have to be Douglas who’d got the package? Sometimes she felt that the gods were laughing at her. Couldn’t it have been Tanya, or Nathalie, who would have at least treated the matter with the delicacy it deserved?
She checked her laptop, and sure enough, stored away in her cyber filing system was the confirmation email, received in the early hours of one morning the previous week. She’d ordered the toys all right, it was just hard to believe that she had no recollection of having done
so. She went through the website again, marvelling at some of the items on sale and noting to her dismay that, had she only spent another five pounds, she would have received a free gift.
Ginnie fought back her tears of shame. If she looked back at all her moments of madness these last few weeks, alcohol had never been far away. ‘My name is Ginnie, and I’m an alcoholic,’ she pictured herself saying in some dreary town hall meeting somewhere. Then again, she might meet someone at AA meetings, these things did happen. She was done with being lonely. She was a good person, she told herself, who was kind and did good things but got nothing but abuse for it. All she wanted was love. And a bit of sex, of course, but not necessarily with these toys.
She had another sip of her smoothie. She’d now gone for thirty-six hours without alcohol. She’d keep this up a month at least, telling the neighbours it was for health reasons, rather than she was an alcoholic. She’d say it mysteriously, so they might think she had something serious (which might, in itself, garner her more respect), and she’d sip smoothies and tomato juice and pretend her abstention wasn’t bothering her. She’d meet someone. She could consider AA meetings another social event. She’d fall in-love and they’d go on their journey of sobriety and wellness together. It would be a novelty to wake up without a hangover. She’d lose weight, too, and might even get rid of Derek, so there would be improvements all round.
What on earth were these things, anyway? Having bought them, Ginnie decided, she might as well try them out. She stole upstairs and into the bedroom, where she had to squeeze onto her bed in the gap made by her sprawling cats. She whipped off her knickers and applied lube to the tongue apparatus as per the instructions, before putting the machine against her clit. The buzzing sound surprised Mr Mouse and he leapt off the bed, but that just gave her more room to get comfortable. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine who was licking her. The machine was actually pretty good. Was it George Clooney this time, or perhaps Johnny Depp? She got herself more comfortable against the pillows. Who did she really fancy? She allowed her mind to drift and the next thing she knew it was Douglas down there, worshipping her; he was her slave and she his mistress, and when she demanded he ate her out, that was what he did. And his licks were getting longer and stronger now, and Ginnie was becoming increasingly aroused. She might just suck him off this time, for good behaviour, she thought benevolently. He was purring the delight of having her pussy so close to his face, he was worshipping her, devoted to her, he’d begged her earlier for the privilege of licking her cunt. With that thought, Ginnie hurtled into a deep and lasting orgasm which frightened away the two remaining cats on her bed.