wondered when you’d get round to that …”
I hear the top being pulled off a can. He really is enjoying this conversation. It’s as if a heavy
curtain has been pulled back and I’m being introduced to his secret place, where so few have ventured
before me. I feel like an intrepid explorer being welcomed into the new world.
Between slurps he explains. “We switch and I become compliant and you do whatever takes your
fancy. I’ll put myself completely in your hands because I know you’ll take care of me.” He swallows
another couple of mouthfuls of something refreshing. “There are no fixed rules Beth, we do whatever
we want and experiment. If it’s a turn-on we’ll keep doing it. If it isn’t we’ll stop and try something
else.”
He makes it sound perfectly natural. “You like your scientific metaphors, don’t you? What
happened to romance?”
“That’s just me. There’ll be lots of time for romance, wait and see.”
“And what if I don’t want to get involved in any of this kinky stuff? What then?” It’s just a
thought.
“We’ll figure it out, Beth.” There is a trace of disappointment in his voice or is it fatigue? It’s
getting late.
My brain takes me back to Alenka’s office and I use her photos as a visual benchmark. “We will,
but I think it might be fun.” He needs a positive thought to take to bed with him. “Who knows what
kind of fantasy fucking we might come up with?” I turn on my headlights to chase away the early
evening shadows. “You should get to bed. We’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”
With a weary sigh and a yawn, he prepares to leave me. Saying goodbye to Ayden is never easy, but
this is a make or break trip for him. So much depends on it. The fact he is having to deal with the
merger personally, face to face, speaks for itself. It takes more than a handshake and a signature on a
dotted line to secure a billion pound business opportunity.
“You’re right. We’ll save that discussion until I get back. It’s almost midnight and I’ve got a
monumental meeting at 9a.m. I’ll keep the lock close at hand, just in case. Right now I need to sleep.”
He remembered the lock of my hair. I can’t help but smile. Is there ever a moment when I’m out of
his thoughts?
“I won’t get into Heathrow until ten thirty tomorrow night but I’ll be out of it.”
“Of course. Go straight home and sleep off the jet lag. I’ll see you on Tuesday morning. Call me
when you’re back in the land of the living.”
He tries to stifle another yawn. “Good idea. And we’ll celebrate our successes: my merger and your
two mill fee.”
My God! In all the excitement I’d forgotten all about that. I respond with a simple, “Oh, that.”
“I’ll stay on the phone until you’re back at your apartment.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You get to bed and rest assured I’ll be spending
the next few days reviewing dirty pictures and thinking dirty thoughts about you.”
“That’s my girl.” He’s laughing, trying so hard to generate cheerful enthusiasm.
“Night Ayden, sleep well. “
“Bye Beth. I love you.”
He waits for my reply. “I love you more.” I switch off my new iPhone and slip it into my bag; turn
on the engine and merge into the traffic. I smile, noticing the silver car behind that keeps stopping and
starting, weaving and turning with me. Thank you for looking after me Ayden.
The sensation of having his heart squeezed and crushed through a combination of disappointment
and despair had taken its toll on Dan. Last night’s uncharacteristic display of bare knuckled brawling
was uncalled for but the only way he knew to quell the bubbling frustration which threatened to
overspill into his daily routine. Not surprisingly, his knuckles are bruised and grazed after having
come into contact with muscle and bone yet, in typical Rizler style, he brazens it out. He’s wiggling
his fingers, testing their flexibility, making a fist. “No pain, no gain,” he whispers into the early
evening air.
He’s standing on a stained and dirty island of flattened carpet, facing his cork board; before his
eyes his girl walks and talks and smiles, unaware of his prying eyes upon her. She had no idea then
and she has no idea now, but that’s about to change.
One by one he pulls out the coloured pins and places each faded photograph on the kitchen table.
What remains is a patchwork arrangement of squares, a checkerboard of used and unused space. The
dusty, coloured tinsel moults and faded strands of gilded threads flutter downwards, and settle on his
shoes like alien snowflakes. Only one picture remains, the most intimate of them all: the picture of her
sleeping. Soon, his girl’s weary head would be resting on his chest, those delicate fingers would be
caressing his face, and her breasts would be swelling at the thought of him coming inside her. So
weighty is the fantasy, it makes him throw back his head in rapturous anticipation; his hard cock
wrestles with the seams around his zip and strains to free itself from the confinement of his jeans.
Simply thinking about her is becoming physically painful. He wants to hold off on his orgasm, wants
to savour the sensation of it; he wants to save himself for her.
Having stripped the board bare, he lifts it from the wall. Behind it is a clean and brightly coloured
expanse of wallpaper, a reminder of a time when he had colour in his life. What it was to be a free-
agent. His future stretched out in front of him like an open road full of possibilities. Then their paths
crossed and he was knocked sideways. Consumed by vengeance, he takes the board across his knee
and snaps it in half like a piece of dried out bracken. The fact is, he’s not prepared to sit around any
longer; the time has come for him to shape up or ship out. Tonight’s the night.
For over a week he has been an invisible shadow. He’s seen her at her best and her worst, and
today? Today, he followed her into the city; waited while she spent the afternoon with some long-
legged model type, watched Stone’s chauffeur hand her a phone and then kept her under observation
as she sat, a solitary figure on a bench, crying. He followed her home and parked up, not even
bothering to turn off the engine. She was alone; there was no sign of Stone or anyone else for that
matter.
His hunter’s instinct tells him she’s fair game. After nearly seven, long years he can still smell her
fear and taste her tears; they cling to his tongue and he licks his lips, hungry for more. With total
assurance, he packs the crisp and curling photographs into a shopping bag, lifts up the pedal bin lid
and throws it in. The lid snaps shut. “This isn’t goodbye princess. It’s see you later.”
4
By ten o’clock I’m suffering from eye-strain and sensory overload. My empty bed beckons so I turn
off my iPod; companion songs seem like fair weather friends now, offering little in the way of
comfort or consolation. I cannot be pacified or lulled into a false sense of security by them anymore.
I’m possessed by love. It’s tangible, all consuming, addictive: I’m hooked on Ayden Stone.
My phone rings and I rush over to answer it, checking the time. It’s only just gone 5 a.m. in Hong
Kong. What’s wrong!
“Hello?”
There is no rep
ly.
“Hello?”
I’m sure someone is there but they either won’t or can’t speak. How strange. I check the call log
and it’s a withheld number. It’s probably someone randomly pressing numbers to see if one actually
connects. I set my phone on charge by my bed and walk with heavy steps to the bathroom.
Ayden’s email and his six photographic attachments have held my attention for the past three
hours. I’m undressing, getting ready for bed. My eyes are drawn to my wrists; the bruising has faded
but it’s still possible to tell I’ve been restrained. The soft cord has caused pink lines to circle the skin
like rose coloured bracelets. I trace the circle on my left hand with my forefinger and close my eyes.
Inside I’m tingling; it’s as if an electric current is building in my stomach and lancing through my
groin. My pulse is racing; the air in my lungs is escaping, making my shoulders dip. The memory of
that night in Rome, the blindfold, hands tied, pinioned beneath Ayden defenceless, hits me like an
overwhelming torrent of hot steam, suffocating me.
Wide eyed I sit, assessing sensations and self-diagnosing symptoms as my hands inch towards my
groin. It’s arousal. Not the kind I get from sex or oral stimulation, or even from Ayden’s words, but
the kind that is beginning to creep up on me when I least expect it. It resides in my brain as a memory
and grips me by the throat, leaving me gasping for air, powerless and totally helpless. He’s not even
here and I’m ready to submit, so staggering is my clawing need for sexual contact.
I miss him.
My body misses him ...
I collapse onto my bed a quivering wreck, floored by my own recollections. I close my eyes tight,
taking in slow, easy breaths, pushing out my stomach in an attempt to relax and centre myself. I’ve
got to get a grip. With what can only be described as self-restraint, I move my hands onto my navel
and feel it rise and fall steadily while my heart rate decreases.
My thoughts take me away from my physical manifestations of sexual craving to actual events of
the past few days, the peaks and troughs of our turbulent love affair. My attempt at deceit and the
disastrous consequences of lying to someone who’s trust in me was compromised and shaken to the
core. I hate myself for putting him through that and driving him to despair. What memories live in the
dark recesses of his mind, what demons drove him to seek punishment; to unbuckle a belt, to remove
his clothes? What has he had to endure at the cruel hands of so called carers?
My arousal fizzles like the dying embers of a spent firework at the thought of my Mr. P. being
subjected to that. ‘I’m a dominant man, ’ he said. And who could argue with that? ‘ I like to win. ” Well
why the hell not? It’s been the mantra that’s kept him on track for the past 16 years.
What about my demons? There’s only one; it haunts my dreams still and lingers in my psyche like a
bad smell, always there no matter how much I scent the air with happy thoughts. For now, I have to
deal with the present and, with each passing day, it’s becoming a taller order. Our engagement,
Alenka’s duplicity and the revelation that followed are more than enough to occupy my thoughts. Pile
onto that preparing for work and Charlie’s birthday party ... I’m mindful of the time. It’s almost
midnight. All this soul searching is exhausting. Tomorrow I’ll be able to face the world with fresh
eyes and a more astute mind. I need to sleep.
The familiar sound of an incoming text catches my attention. Cleaning my teeth, I read on:
Just got up, heard this song and thought of you. I’ve emailed it. It’s everything you are to me.
Take me to bed with you and listen. These words from my lips to your heart.
I love you. A.X
I collect my laptop off the kitchen table and carry it into my bedroom. It’s booting up while I
smother my face in moisturiser. With my bedroom door bolted and my body wrapped in Ayden’s
oversized T- shirt, I snuggle under the duvet.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 06.10
Subject: THINKING OF YOU
Lovesong: Adele
I recognise the song but haven’t heard it for a while. I press play, hear Adele’s hypnotic voice and
joyful tears fill my eyes. Instinctively, I’m wrapping my arms around my body, longing for his
embrace, allowing the words to spark my senses, to touch my heart. My future husband is about to
oversee one of the most important business transactions of his career and he’s listening to a romantic
love song and thinking of me.
I outstretch the fingers of my left hand and focus on my engagement ring. I don’t need to turn it to
the lamp, it finds the light and draws the eye, much like the man who gave it to me. I need to send a
message, one which will put his mind at rest; no song can do that for me. These words have to be my
own.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 00.17
Subject: CONFESSION!
Your song made me cry. I needed to hear those words from your lips. I know you’ve more
important things to do but, for the last four hours, I’ve been thinking about you, nothing but you.
You’re my obsession Mr. Stone.
The day you walked into my life our two worlds collided, remember? Since that day, every
thought I’ve had has been about you. I close my eyes and your voice is an aphrodisiac, I smell
you on my skin and I ache for your touch ... that’s just the way it is; the way it’s always been
between us.
But what we have goes beyond the physical, doesn’t it? It’s profound. It scares the shit out of us
but it’s undeniable. It’s that feeling of relief and thankfulness at having found one another.
We’re soul mates Ayden.
You’ve left me with three rings: one on my finger and two around my wrists. All three bind me
to you. I’m unconditionally yours; I belong to you.
Every day is a new chapter in the story of us and I know how I want this part of our story to
begin and end; with me as your wife and you as the father of our children. That’s my fantasy
Ayden. Do you think you can make it real for me?
These words from my lips to your heart.
I love you Mr. P (Go be powerful)
B. X
Before I can turn out the light, he answers me. I’m not sure what to expect. Have I said too much?
Is the price of my love too excessive?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 06. 30
Subject: REQUEST!
I DO. MARRY ME TOMORROW!
I love you, more than you know.
A. X
P.S. Pack a bag and be ready to be picked-up at 10.00 am. Remember to pack your travel
sickness tablets. It’s a 12 hour flight to Hong Kong and I don’t want you sitting on anyone’s
knee!
X
So astonishing is his email, it causes me to fall backwards onto my bed.
‘ Pack a bag …’
Is he serious? He wants me to fly out to Hong Kong so we can get married! Did he think I was
giving him an ultimatum?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th Oc
tober 2012 00.40
Subject: EXPLANATION!
Mr. Stone! Are you suffering from jet-lag or Hong Kong flu? You seem a little – impetuous. I
wasn’t suggesting you make my fantasy real for me TOMORROW! It was a simple declaration
of love.
B. X
In a nanosecond, he replies:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 06. 45
Subject: ANOTHER REQUEST!
Are you saying no? If so, I will have no hesitation in sending Lester over with a strong sedative
and two first class tickets. He will carry you onto the plane over his shoulder, if necessary! Pack!
We’re getting married.
Can’t you hear the wedding bells??
A X
Sedative! Bells! What the fuck! He’s completely lost the plot.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 00.40
Subject: ARE YOU INSANE?
I can’t hear anything other than men in white coats coming to take you away! Do you realise that
you’re talking about drugging me and carting me off to the Far East against my will!!!
There’s a name for men who do that!
This is not the stuff dreams are made of Ayden!
I’m going to bed…
I love you B.X
I think I’ve made myself perfectly clear.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 06.50
Subject: LIGHT RELIEF!!
Sorry! I can’t type for laughing … give me a minute.
A X
Bastard!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 29th October 2012 07. 55
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 7