by O. L. Casper
Kisses and much, much more
~J
Sophia Durant’s Diary
September 30, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas
After meeting Stafford at The Queen’s Men for a light dinner consisting of a walnut salad and grilled salmon, feeling quite tense the whole time about his earlier rendezvous with Emma Green and trying to conceal my ill feelings about the whole affair and about the microphone, I stopped briefly by my room before heading up to Stafford’s bedroom to even the score with Emma. In my room I ate some chocolate, primarily to stimulate the Serotonin production and elevate me to my prior boisterous mood. It’ll be easy to cover up the mic discovery, but I really didn’t like the thought of lying to him, even though I found his life as he told it one fabrication after another, each lie more grandiose than the last. How could I fall for such a devious character? I wondered. I also thought, how could I not fall for someone as secretive and steeped in mystery and strangeness as I? I loved him for all I understood him to be, even when he went off and fucked Emma like that. I loved him for that too because I loved the mad ones who did absolutely anything they pleased without a thought in the world for how it might appear to anyone else. I’m sure I could seduce Emma Green if I wanted to. After all, I did lust after her gorgeous looming tits. I wanted to run my hands along her curves, touch her waist and perhaps even finger her clit. I wanted to tickle that lush bottom grass most of all.
I reached Stafford’s room in a calm frame of mind. The storm had receded and I found him sitting on his bed with a glass of brandy, looking out over Anse Lazio to the setting sun. He handed me a glass and I sat on the bed beside him, wondering what unexpected turn this bizarre day would take next. The unexpected turn turned out to be a somewhat pleasant conversation.
“I hope you’re not freaked out by anything I may have suggested over dinner today.”
“Certainly not.”
I twirled the brandy in my glass, fingers wrapped round to warm it.
“I’m still coming to terms with the thought that someone wants to look into my personal affairs that badly. It’s a strange one to get my head around.”
“I’m sure journalists have tried.”
“But that I could always write off as unsubstantiated paranoia. Now it’s substantiated.”
He took a rather large gulp from his glass, all the while not taking his eyes off the horizon.
He continued, “For some reason everything that’s happened since she died has drawn me to question what I’m doing with my life. I guess I’m testing the efficacy of all I’ve done. And the rating isn’t high.”
“You’ve done so much. Accomplished so much. Seen so much. I’m sure you’ve done things that most others have only dreamed.”
“But for what? To be able to brag. I’m not that into it. To have stories to pass on to Savannah? No. I don’t care for her to know very much of anything that’s gone on in my life up to now.”
“Perhaps the brandy’s affecting your thoughts.”
“I had them long before the brandy came into the picture.”
“I was only trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. I know other ways.”
He smiles and kisses me. First just a peck on the lips. Then tongue. We set the glasses on a bedside table and begin to make out. Our eyes lock and we recline next to one another on silken pillows.
“You’re a friend like I’ve never dreamed of having.” He speaks tenderly.
“So are you,” I say honestly.
“There are some things that are going to come to light regarding Emma, if we continue down the path we’re on, that you may find unpleasant, to say the least.”
“You fucked her.”
He pauses. Then, looking out on the horizon, he continues, “Yes.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
“How did you know?”
“It’s the vibe I got from you since the afternoon.”
“Nothing gets by you. How do you feel about it?”
I can’t believe he asked me that.
“You’re a free man.”
“I didn’t ask whether I was free.”
“One the one hand, it hurts. On the other, both you and I are free. In that sense, it feels liberating.”
I smile, thinking of Julie.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m afraid I’ve become more attached than I previously thought.”
“Me too. I realized that when I was with her.”
“Are you saying you want to be exclusive?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Are you capable of it?”
“Fair question. I would say that I am…when I’ve found the right person.”
Not wanting to push my luck, I don’t ask him any more about it. Besides, I feel we have a way to go before we come to the question of fidelity.
“I saw this movie a long time ago called Sliding Doors. It’s about a decision a woman makes, but instead of showing the results of just one decision, it shows the results of both, revealing two parallel universes and contrasting them against one another.”
I listen intently, looking at the view of the sea.
“Since the plane crash I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of parallel worlds.”
“You shouldn’t torture yourself.”
“Listen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. What I’m trying to say is this. I’ve just been thinking, what if I did something slightly differently before it happened? Would it have happened at all? If I’d turned right at a light instead of left, or crossed my legs one way instead of another—would it have still all happened the way it did? Crazy right.”
“It’s natural. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not guilty of anything. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Obviously that isn’t entirely true, but I’m saying pretty much everything that comes to mind without filtering it.
“I know. But it feels like…I don’t know. I was reading something in a newspaper online the other day. It talked about the theory of relativity and how if light can be manipulated in certain ways it can alter time; in theory one could travel in time this way, but it’s believed that one would find parallel worlds with slight variations to our own. Do you know what that means?”
He’s fascinated with the sound of his own voice. I can’t imagine where he’s going with this utter nonsense, nor do I try.
“It means that there might be an infinite variety of worlds coexisting with this one with slight variations in each. Each parallel universe would bear expression to every slight alteration that could possibly happen in this one. Infinite worlds, and perhaps we just live in one variation. Or perhaps we live in several but only experience one. Perhaps we live in them all but don’t remember any but the one we’re dealing in now.”
“You could go on like this forever, but where will it get you. You have to live with the past that you know.”
“Perhaps there’s a universe where I never married Isabella.”
“But then you wouldn’t have met me.”
“Perhaps we met in another way.”
“Perhaps.”
I look down, solemnly.
“You’re right. It’s useless to talk about. Just an interesting thought at one time.”
“People think and experience a lot of strange things when they lose someone.”
I lean in for the kiss. The magnetic attraction draws our faces together and we embrace and undress. I feel inside his boxer-briefs before taking them off. He cock is long and hard. I take the underwear off and begin to suck it, licking around and sucking the tip before putting more in my mouth. He unsnaps my bra and I feel his hands coming down round the tips of my breasts. I feel the wet flow down one leg. As I perform orally, I think about Emma’s legs spread eagle and the thought invigorates me. I take off my panties and touch my lips to be sure. They are very wet. I spread it all over the labia, the clitoris and circle it round the ring of the hole. Facing away from
him, I put my lady lips on his hard cock and begin to gyrate my hips. The head of his cock tickles and massages my labia and my clit, as well as the entrance to the hole. I bob up and down on his cock for an extended period. He moans with pleasure and I conceal my moaning. I’ve never moaned loudly with him and I don’t want to do it at all now, feeling instinctively I must draw as much of a distinction between myself and Emma as I possibly can.
Between stretches of bobbing, I gyrate and listen to him moan in a different way as this happens. After alternating between the two he gets up on his knees and I spread my legs as wide as I can while still keeping my ass in the air for doggy style fucking. The pleasure has already reached and surpassed any heights we achieved previously, but, as he reinserts it, I arch my back and find a whole new plateau of ecstasy. As he thrusts forward, faster and faster, he is energizes me. Infusing the energy first into the base, my wet pussy, then expanding it upwards through my middle to my shoulders and beyond. The fuck is immaculate. What a brusque cock indeed. Nothing mild mannered about it. The sex is liberating and uplifting, shattering new records for the heights achieved. Explosive ecstasy. I find myself almost slipping away, almost losing consciousness, the pleasure is…I must concentrate on something else for a minute to remain conscious while holding this level, so I look outside to the pristine waters in the evening sun. My pussy holds him like a silk glove, the perfect shape for his contours, the perfect size for his massive prick. The level of ecstasy crescendos and I feel him explode inside of me, pumping me full of semen. I drink it in, absorbing him in full, taking everything from him, all the way in. In a few moments, he collapses on top of me. We lay together, my dripping pussy still astride his wondrous cock.
Sophia Durant’s Diary
October 4, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas
Minerva alerted me to texting between Stafford and Emma Green. I had set it to let me know of any messages or calls between Stafford and Emma. The program had been alerting me of their texts over the last couple of days. It was funny because as I watched her flirt I watched him in turn press her with extensive questions. The interest in her affairs probably sounded like deep flirtation to her, but to me it sounded like what it was; probing and interrogation. Of course I had placed the microphones and now I was spying on the interrogation regarding them (he never actually mentioned them in his interactions with her). I enjoyed the irony. I wished I could have a target who was a little more canny in matters of intrigue, one that presented a bit more of a challenge. Then I thought I should be more careful what I wished for.
In the notification I had just received Stafford asked Emma to meet him on the property and go out on a boat, ostensibly to have a look at it from the sea. I knew what that really meant and felt a corresponding surge of heat pass through my body accompanied by an intense form of rage I was not previously accustomed to. The meeting was to be in the afternoon, so I planned how I would get there, where I would park, and so on. I had left the mics in the house, reasoning that because they mostly talked about their prior meeting there, they would soon return. Needless to say I wasn’t disappointed in my logic.
As before, I parked the 911 Turbo in one of the barns behind a stack of hay bales, and hid in a part of the forest that is near where I hid in the dunes the last time. Much as the last, the present spot overlooked the back of the house. It had a greater vantage of the surrounding sea. I arrived a few hours before they were supposed to meet as to prevent any possible run-ins with Emma Green. The D-SLR I ordered, a Panasonic Lumix GH-3, had arrived in the mail the day before and it was my spy gear of choice as it had powerful telephoto and high-definition video capabilities. Using Emma’s phone number as a starting point, I managed to infiltrate her phone with Minerva and get the information I needed to turn it into a GPS tracker, which showed up on the digital map as a pulsating violet dot when I wanted to see where she was. I recognized that I was hidden among some banyan trees and recalled a Hindu myth I had read regarding them in my early youth.
“There is a banyan tree, which has its roots pointed up and its branches extending down, and the leaves are the Vedic hymns themselves. The one who knows this banyan, knows the Vedas,” said the Bhagavad Gita. The material world is like the banyan that’s upside down. If we stand on the bank of a river, or any body of water, with a banyan on the opposite side, the banyan in the water is reflected upside down. The branches extend down with the roots pointed up. Likewise, the material world is a reflection of the spiritual world, only it is reversed. The material world, being but an insubstantial shadow, has no reality. But from the shadow we can understand there is substance and reality in eternity. I juxtaposed these ideas to my own world. Transmuting the image of an ideal into my world was my present and all-consuming preoccupation. I could not quite discern how that translated into eternity. Is the realization of desires great and small also present in the eternal realm? Is it even necessary to do so there? It isn’t a realm I can picture so I dropped all thoughts of it and returned to the mission at hand; I would have plenty of time to deal with eternity when I got there. Even if there is nothing after death wasn’t that the same as eternity? Aren’t eternity, infinity, and nothingness one and the same? A part of me longed for nothingness as the violet and the blue dots converged and grew nearer on the map.
Switching to the app for listening to the mics on my phone, I plugged in the earbuds and put one in my ear. I listened to the ambient sound throughout the house as I faded through the mics by dragging a thumb across the screen. The muffled sound of two cars pulling up in the driveway came over the earbud faintly. I could hear it better with my own ears. I could not, however, hear the sound of the creaking steps as two people walked up to the front door and entered without the earbud. I heard Stafford and Emma laughing as they entered.
“To be completely honest I couldn’t wait to see you,” she said languorously. She sounded drunk.
“I was looking forward to it myself.”
“Really?”
“Quite.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Now that I’m here…with you?”
“Oh.” She laughed again. She was definitely drunk. “I’m sorry. Late night. I’m a bit tired. I had an energy drink on the way over here. A Red Bull. Something I almost never do.”
He laughed.
“Is Red Bull an aphrodisiac?”
“What are you looking for?” she asked suddenly, a note of concern in her voice.
The fucker’s looking for more mics, I thought. He’s subtle enough to be very successful at whatever business he does, can’t he be subtle enough to spy.
“Nothing; I thought I heard something.”
“What? Like someone else is in the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t do that to me. That’s creepy.”
“What? You think the place is haunted?”
“Perhaps. Why not?”
He laughed resoundingly. I feared he was in close proximity to one of the mics.
“You don’t believe in ghosts?”
“Oh I most certainly do. My wife passed away recently. I see her every day.”
His voice was tender, quavering at the end.
There was an extended silence before she spoke.
“I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Forget about it. It’s in the past. I want to focus on the future.”
“I’ll get changed into my swimsuit, then we can go out to the dock and get in the boat.”
“I’ll wait right here.”
There were some footsteps and the sound of a door closing. I lifted the camera and zoomed in on the house. Through the tree branches I could just make out Stafford in the kitchen. He was looking around rapidly. Scanning the floor and the counters. Looking for mics, undoubtedly. I was scared he might find one, even though I knew he would just bring it back to me and say, “I told you so.” Still, though I had done quite a bit of snooping by now, I wasn’t comfortable with it. There was the sound of a door c
losing and Emma emerged in a bikini that was so tiny I don’t see why she bothered with any swimsuit at all. She guided Stafford into the backyard, which was mostly just sand and a few stepping stones, and along a path that cut through the dunes to the beach. I followed them with my camera, though they weren’t far from my perch. About forty feet away.
Emma’s tan was perfect, no lines, dark. A natural tan from spending time naked on a beach somewhere. Her tits were large and natural, and, as nice as they were, her rear end was even nicer. Firm and muscular, each side flexed with every step. I watched it with cool admiration and contemplated the uses of going to the gym. I suspected she didn’t go to the gym, but had a naturally perfect body. I wasn’t really too jealous of it except for one thing; the perfect tan. Strangely, I could still hear their conversation as they left the house. It was sometimes dulled and accompanied by an occasional scratching noise, but I could hear most of what they said well enough. At first I wondered why I was hearing it, then I realized what was going on. The mic Stafford found the first time he had kept in his pocket. The stupid fuck. I felt lucky that I would be able to hear their chat.
I watched them as they neared an old dock, composed mainly of rotting wood. They walked onto it with great caution and quickly got in a small sailboat. It was from the fifties, about thirty-feet-long.
“Sorry about the condition of the boat. It’s an older Chris-Craft that’s been in the family for years.”
“It’s fine. Hopefully it doesn’t sink out there.”
I could see his smile with the camera.