What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story)

by Shaw, O. C

  “Stop,” I say, embarrassed, pushing his chest with both hands.

  “I was going to say bossy and a bit of a bully.”

  I laugh, and I see his gaze fall to my lips again. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk any more. I take his hand, and we make our way back to our room where we lie down together on the bed.

  “The thing is, Lily,” he says, “a man is very transactional when it comes to what is attractive. You only have to look at the type of porn a man goes for. Crappy videos with no real story featuring women with big tits doing sexy stuff to men. It’s all very superficial. With women it’s different; they like books where they can visualise the sex themselves, not pictures. It’s more cerebral. A woman needs to feel beautiful to allow herself to behave erotically; I think that’s why so many women don’t have orgasms with men, because the men are too transactional; they don’t help the woman to feel beautiful,” he says, stroking my thigh all the while.

  He reaches for the sash from my robe and wraps it around my eyes so that I can’t see anything, only feel the sensations as he touches me. “You have to give yourself to the moment, Lily, to the sensation,” he says, caressing me. The lack of sight means every new touch startles and thrills me, and I respond with little gasps because each touch is amplified.

  “Do you trust me, Lily?” he asks. I don’t have to think to answer:

  “Yes.”

  As soon as I say it I feel him securing one of my wrists with some sort of tie, and then the other one, before moving to my ankles. The fastenings are soft on my skin, but when he finishes I can’t move and am spread-eagled on the bed. I feel vulnerable but aroused at the same time. He resumes his touching, all the while whispering to me how beautiful I am and how much he wants me. I feel him move between my legs, and my heart rate accelerates. When his tongue touches me, my body jerks but the ties hold me in place. My natural instinct is to want to close my legs or reach down to touch him, but I can do neither. I am entirely in his control, with my body at his command. His tongue is teasing my swollen bud, and the sensation is intense; when he pushes his tongue up inside me, I groan. His tongue resumes its work on my most sensitive place while his fingers take over probing inside, seeking more response from me. I am writhing now, wanting to pull him to me, to satisfy the ache inside me. I would do anything to have him enter me now; my body is aroused, arching to thrust my breasts towards him, trying to tempt him higher so I can ensnare him within me.

  “No, Lily,” he says, “this is just about you first of all,” and he continues to tease until I am moaning in a place between despair and desire. I feel beautiful and desired as he worships my body with his hands, lips and tongue, until my body can take no more and I spiral into a climax made all the more intense because I cannot close my legs. For a few seconds I cannot think; I don’t even know my own name until I feel James, as he releases the ties on my hands and feet before he enters me. I am still sensitive at first, and he moves gently as if knowing what I am feeling. Eventually the pace builds and I feel myself rising again with him this time, my body craving the feel of him moving inside me, until we both cry out, his name on my lips. It is the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced, almost exquisitely painful.

  I don’t know how much time passes until he finally takes my blindfold off, my eyes blinking in the light of the room. I look up at him shyly, feeling embarrassed at the abandon I exhibit to him, and “thank you” is all I can think to say.

  “No, thank you,” he replies with a sweet kiss before pulling me back against his chest and wrapping his arm around me as we drift off to sleep.

  By the time we wake up, have a shower and dress for dinner, the wedding meal is well underway. James has booked us into the hotel restaurant for dinner, figuring we would want to spend most of the time we have left alone together in the room. I feel so close to him now, a deep connection I don’t ever remember feeling with Greg, as we walk together down the stairs and head for the restaurant. When James halts me, I am not sure why until he points to the mistletoe hung directly over my head and pulls me into his arms for a kiss.

  We are disturbed by a strangled voice crying: “Mum?” followed by the sound of a tray filled with glasses hitting the stone floor and smashing into a million smithereens. I pull away from James and turn to look straight into Ethan’s horrified face.

  Chapter 31

  “Ethan,” I say, my voice sounding appalled. I am so ashamed he has seen us like this.

  “Mum, does Dad know you’re here?” he asks, sounding much younger than his eighteen years for a moment, his voice almost pleading with me to give him some reason to make sense of all this.

  “No, Ethan,” I say gently as I put a hand out to try to reassure him, console him, but he steps away hissing:

  “Don’t touch me.” He’s getting angry now, and James takes a protective step in front of me, which only makes matters worse. “Sarah tried to warn me what you were like,” he says, looking at me, his eyes narrow and hard, his voice louder now. “We had a huge row, and I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was right, wasn’t she? She saw right through you,” he says, looking at the pair of us with hatred in his eyes. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

  “That’s enough,” James growls.

  “Please,” I beg the pair of them, “let’s not do this in public.”

  “Why not, Mum, are you afraid people will find out what a slag you are?” Ethan is shouting now. The entire wedding party in the room behind us has gone silent now, and they have all turned to watch the spectacle unfolding at the door. I am mortified.

  “I said that’s enough,” James says flintily, taking a step towards Ethan to try and calm him. Unfortunately it seems to be the final straw for Ethan as he pulls his arm back and slams his fist hard into James’ cheek. To his credit James doesn’t retaliate, stepping away instead with his hands up in an effort to try and diffuse the situation that is rapidly spiralling out of control.

  “Ethan Lambert!” a stern voice to the side of us shouts. When I turn, a middle-aged woman who can only be his work supervisor is standing and looking on horrified. I watch her take in the smashed glasses on the floor and the guest who has obviously just been assaulted. Ethan is looking unrepentant, though, more like the teenager he is than the responsible worker he has shown her up to this point.

  “Fuck you, Mum,” he says, “Dad doesn’t deserve this. Don’t think I’m going to protect your dirty little secret. I’ll be calling him in the morning to tell him what I’ve seen, you can count on that. The only reason I won’t call him tonight is because I don’t want to spoil his show. I hope he was worth it,” he says, squaring up to James again.

  “Ethan!” the supervisor intercedes yet again, desperate to end the horror show that is fast becoming a fiasco.

  “Fuck you,” he says to me and James, “and fuck your job,” he says, turning to the supervisor before shoulder barging James as he pushes past along the corridor and out the front door of the hotel.

  I stand there watching him go, devastated at the hurt I have caused him through the selfish pursuit of my own happiness. I have no idea how to begin to put it all right. I become aware of the whispering within the wedding group and James at my arm urging me to move. “Come on, Lily,” he says, gently trying to steer me back towards the stairs. “Please put the cost of the glasses on my bill,” he instructs the supervisor, who is still standing and staring at us as we walk past her.

  I think she’s unsure, judging by her expression, whether to treat us like guests or some sort of troublesome riff-raff that she needs to kick out. The superior tone James adopts ensures she assumes the former and defers to him with a submissive “yes, sir.”

  I manage to hold it together until we make it into the room and James pulls me against his chest, and then finally the tears begin to fall.

  “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he says, stroking my hair, as he continues to just hold me. I don’t know what to say, and what is there to say, real
ly? We stay like that for some time until my sobs subside, and he gently asks me: “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, just wishing the whole horrible nightmare would go away. “I never wanted to hurt him like that, and now he hates me, and I don’t blame him, really,” I say.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lily.”

  “Why not? I’ve been unfaithful to his father; he was just standing up for him in his absence.” I pause, remembering the altercation. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” I say, reaching out gently to touch the bruise forming on his cheek.

  “It’s nothing,” he says dismissively.

  “Thank you for not retaliating,” I say.

  “He was defending your honour in his own way, and I can’t blame him for that.” His voice is gruff as he continues; “I’m so sorry I have caused this to happen in your life, Lily.”

  “I had a choice, James. I could always have said no.”

  He looks at me anxiously for a moment before he asks: “Do you wish you had?”

  I think about it for about a second before I say: “No, I wouldn’t change anything except for how Ethan found out.” He looks relieved and yet still filled with guilt at the same time.

  “James, I’ll be honest. I’m not proud of how I’ve gone behind Greg’s back and been unfaithful to him, but I can’t regret what you and I have had, what we have now.” I pause, thinking about what I’m trying to say. “You’ve brought me back to life, shown me how life can be in a loving sexual relationship. I’ve been half-dead for too many years now. I was going to tell you anyway that I’ve been looking at bedsits and planning to sort something out for myself. I intended to tell Greg after Christmas I was moving out and wanted a divorce, and I guess this just sped the process up a bit.” I try to smile, but it comes over as a twisted sort of grimace.

  “Are you sure?” He pauses like he wants to say something, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to ask me to come and stay with him, but he doesn’t. “Do you know what you’re doing? It’s a big thing to leave a marriage after such a long time,” he says, looking at me intently.

  His comment surprises me. I’d hoped he’d be pleased I was leaving Greg, even if he didn’t want us to live together yet. I take a deep breath before I speak again. “All I know for sure is that I can’t live the next eighteen years in a relationship like the one I have at the moment with Greg, and I can’t have a meaningful relationship with anyone else, including you, that is based on deceit or dishonesty, which is what it would be if I stayed married to him and carried on creeping around behind his back. It’s not a good foundation for something you want to last,” I say with certainty.

  He nods as I continue, “This weekend has been wonderful, having all this time with you. I want to be able to do that all the time, not be sneaking around worrying who might have seen us. My relationship has been over for more than twelve years, and it’s well past time for me to move on now; I just hadn’t counted on Ethan getting caught up so directly as collateral damage. I always knew the boys would be shocked about me leaving Greg, but I guess I selfishly hoped I could tell them about you after I had left him, and not have them think of you as a cause of the breakup. You have to believe the marriage was dead well before I met you; you just gave me the strength to do something about it.”

  I take his hand as I say it and give it a squeeze. He smiles bleakly at me. To be honest, he’s taking this harder than I expected; he seems really unsettled.

  “Do you think it’s worth trying to get hold of Ethan? Trying to persuade him not to tell Greg?” he asks.

  “Why would I want to do that?” I ask, surprised by the suggestion. “Why would I want to tell my son to lie for me?” The very idea of it is abhorrent to me.

  “I don’t know,” he says, running his hand through his hair anxiously, “I just have a bad feeling. I like this bubble we’ve been living in.”

  I don’t know what to say, and I think my heart splinters a little just to hear him say it. I’ve been so focused on the future, our future, I had assumed he felt the same way. A tear slips down my cheek. “Don’t cry, Lily, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I know, it’s fine,” I say, but I feel just a bit more alone than I did before.

  James orders room service for us, as neither of us can face the restaurant for fear of bumping into the wedding guests again, but I can’t eat. My stomach is churning too much to cope with food. I have a bath and try to think about how best to approach tomorrow with Greg. I know he’ll be angry and want me gone, I suppose I’ll have to find a B&B to stay in until I sort a bedsit out. It’s going to be a miserable Christmas, I realise. How on earth am I going to tell Adam? All these thoughts are flying round and round my mind. Ethan will probably have already told him. The boys might not be close all the time, and they bicker like any brothers do, but when one of them needs help or support, they always have each other’s backs. I know in my heart that Ethan will already have called Adam and discussed with him how best to tell Greg, and I’m glad to know they are looking out for each other. I hug my arms across my chest, holding on to my shoulders, feeling hollow from all the emotional exertion, trying to give myself some sort, any sort, of comfort I can.

  Once I’m finally out the bath and ready for bed, James hugs me close again, stroking my hair and trying to reassure me that it will all be okay, but I’m not quite sure if he’s trying to persuade himself or me more. I know it’s ridiculous to think for one minute you can make this sort of change in your life and not hurt some of the people around you, but I wish I didn’t have to. I never wanted to hurt anyone, and it makes it all so much harder; but that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do, I tell myself. Now I just have to believe it.

  It’s a very long and lonely night – I spend most of it listening to James sleep. I watch him for a long time as he lies there in all his beautiful, breathtaking splendour, marvelling that this handsome man seems to care for me in his own way. It might not be quite how I would want him to just yet, but I know he cares. In the morning we pack our stuff, and James goes down to settle the bill. I’m glad to be away from the scrutiny of the other guests, who clearly remember us from the debacle the night before.

  “Will you be okay? With him, I mean?” James worries as we both walk to the cars. I know he’s been thinking about it for a while, but this is the first time he’s said it out loud.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say, because I know that’s what he wants to hear. In truth I’m not quite sure how Greg is likely to react to the news. I certainly would not have wanted him to hear it from one of the kids like this if I had had a choice.

  When we reach the cars James cups my face in his hands and looks intently into my eyes. “Call me and let me know what happens, when you’re away from him, I mean. I’m going to be worrying about you.” He looks like he means it, so I promise I will when it’s done and I’m settled. He pauses like he wants to say something more but then thinks the better of it and just kisses me goodbye instead. There are no worries about anyone seeing us now, but it seems it’s hard to shake the habit as I see James look over his shoulder to see if anyone’s watching us. I tease him about it as we climb into our respective cars, and he just gives me his funny twisted sort of smile.

  The drive back is frighteningly swift, which is so typical when you don’t want it to be. I know given the length of the drive he has to make that Greg won’t be back from Harrogate until this afternoon at the earliest, so I decide to stop at Emma’s on my way back. I want to let her know what’s happened, in case she gets any grief for me having used her as an excuse when I lied about my whereabouts. She comes to open the door and when she sees it’s me she bounces up and down on her toes – well, as much as a 38ish-weeks’ pregnant woman is able to.

  “Oh my God, Lil, it’s brilliant,” she enthuses, and for a moment I can’t for the life of me think what she’s talking about. “You have a gift,” she continues. “I just couldn’t put it down. I swear all I’ve d
one since you dropped it off is read. I literally finished it twenty minutes ago, and now I don’t know what to do with myself. There has to be another book! I have to know what happens next,” she beseeches me.

  I smile, finally realising she has read my book. I’m genuinely glad she liked it, but it is so far from my list of things to think about at the moment that the smile doesn’t really meet my eyes. “What’s the matter?” Emma asks, looking at me more closely now, her excitement fading. “What’s happened? You look funny.”

  “Can I come in for a bit?”

  “Of course,” she says, moving aside to let me pass and following me into the kitchen, where we both sit at the table.

  “What’s happened?” she asks again, more serious now, the book forgotten. So I tell her. I tell her about the beautiful time at the hotel with James, about going down for dinner, about kissing James and about Ethan seeing us. When she looks confused I explain he was working there, that the agency must have sent him because of the wedding. I watch her eyes widen in shock as she works through the implications.

  When I describe our exchange, what he said about telling Greg, what he called me, she just says: “Oh my God, Lil,” and then she moves to hug me. “I’m so sorry, darling. I know you must hate it happening that way.” I nod, glad she understands me so well, that she isn’t judging me, always my friend to the last.