by Tom Barry
“You look sensational,” he said, rising from the bed to hold her.
Isobel backed away tantalisingly. “I thought maybe if you really liked it, you might stay for the night?”
“If I only could, but I must be out of here by six.” He smiled briefly and apologetically before striding purposefully across the floor to take what was his.
He pulled her towards him as she melted into his arms and he held her tightly, his hands pressing into her buttocks.
“This is going to be good, Isobel, this is going to be so very good,” he whispered into her ear.
Isobel stretched up and kissed him, delighted at the ease of it with her heels on. She clasped her hands on his as they held her buttocks and pressed them there firmly, not wanting him to explore her as he normally did. They kissed, absorbed in one another for a long time before Isobel pulled away.
“I want to undress you, Jay,” she whispered, her fingers already at his collar. “But you have to stand still. You mustn’t move; that’s an order.”
He stood there as she undressed him slowly from the top downwards, until he was naked of all but his socks.
“No moving now, not till I tell you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his chest hair and then dropping slowly to her knees, because she knew it pleased him more than anything. He was not ready and she stayed on her knees before him until he was engorged inside her, as he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured with pleasure, powerful and guiding above her.
“Now your turn,” she said, rising to her feet and trying to appear commanding. “I want you to undress me the same way, but very slowly.”
Jay meticulously undid each button of her silk camisole, working down from the top as she arched backwards and let him put his mouth to each breast and nibble her nipples. He pushed the top from her form and it fell to the floor, unveiling her like a statue. He dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach. Isobel could feel the wetness between her legs and hoped it had soaked into the blue silk because she wanted him to see her excitement.
She felt him kiss her around her belly button, his lips gentle as a butterfly on her skin, and he put his hands on her hips and slid them down to the top of the panties. She shivered with pleasure as he rolled the silk downwards inch by slow inch, closing her eyes in delight as the light tan of her own skin gave way to snowy white as Jay slipped her panties lower. And as he did so he revealed a little more smooth white skin, and more white skin, and more white skin, until Isobel was fully exposed.
Jay admired what was in front of him, as he sat back on his heels. She looked down at him, pleased at his pleasure. “I did it for you, Jay. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
He kissed her and rubbed his chin against her smoothness and pushed his nose into her, teasing and arousing her with its hardness. He touched her smooth mound lightly with his fingers and traced patterns over it before his tongue explored her in the way she craved, that he knew she craved. He continued to kneel before her until she felt her knees buckle with pleasure and then he rose to his feet and pressed his hardness into her belly. When he stepped back from her she looked down and saw the fluid he had left on her, twisted like a symbol on her stomach. She scooped it off herself as if it were honey and put her finger to her lips. He stood and watched her glide it across the redness; she looked into his eyes and he ran the tip of his tongue back and forth along her lips.
As they stood, locked together, he swept her up, her stockings and panties still at her ankles. He put her on the bed and took them from her, throwing them aside and standing over her nakedness, deciding how best to take her. Isobel gazed up at him, holding his eyes and daring him to do anything. He grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her legs to his shoulders; she saw the fire in his eyes and knew he would be forceful but she did not care. She wanted him to take her with the same abandon that she gave herself, but he did not. He pressed the weight of his body down on her legs until she felt him deep within her, but he did not lose himself in the excitement as she did; he watched her as he took her in a steady, controlled rhythm until she could not bear his gaze. He continued with no rush to fulfil himself and he stayed inside her, shuddering from the sensation of her pleasure, as she reached her climax. When she was still he asked her if he could finish on her breasts, so that she could watch it, and she nodded assent as he rose and straddled her and she took him between her breasts. This time she watched him and they held each other’s gaze as he built to his own peak. But she sensed from the flame in his look that he did not want to come on her breasts, so when his breathing told her that he was near the end she released her hands from her breasts and closed her eyes, feeling him rise up from her and put himself lightly to her lips. She parted them for him so he could let his flood into her, and when he was spent she gently pulled him from her, and held his gaze as she swallowed because she wanted him to see her take him completely. Then he lay beside her and pulled her close into his body and, safe and contented, they drifted into sleep.
As they awoke some hours later, Isobel turned to him, made unsure and vulnerable by sleep.
“If anything happened, you’d look after me, wouldn’t you, Jay?”
He pulled her tighter and kissed her brow.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said, brushing her cheek, “it’s our secret, remember.”
She reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers in his, staring resolutely at the wall as she continued.
“Apart from Rusty, there isn’t anyone else, is there?”
“Why do you ask?” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“Well, the way you said things were at home, you know, I would understand if you had needed someone…”
“Let’s not spoil things by talking about home,” he said, playing with the creases of her ear, “we’ve got each other, and that’s what matters.”
But Isobel persisted, desperate for his reassurance.
“There was a striking young blonde woman with you in Cobham.”
“A blonde woman?” he replied vaguely, nuzzling his nose into her neck.
“Yes, you must remember, quite statuesque, she gave me the brochures.”
“Oh, the girl from the marketing agency, you mean.” He laughed and squeezed her hand, his touch full of affection. “I really only had eyes for you that night.”
“But now we’re together, it’s just you and me isn’t it? Because I couldn’t bear you touching someone else — like you touch me.”
He pulled her closer still, in silent answer, as she sank back into his calmness and warmth.
Eventually, Isobel pulled herself from the safety of his embrace and went into the bathroom, returning with a towel and a bottle of coconut oil.
“I want to give you a massage,” she told him, laying the towel down and cajoling him onto his front. She took the oil as he watched her and rubbed it into her hands and into her smoothness, and she straddled him and rubbed herself up and down his backside, feeling excitement rising within her. Then she put more oil on her hands and let her fingers dance along the inside of his thighs as he quivered in pleasure. As he pushed himself towards her in want, craving her touch, she tapped his side, encouraging him to turn over; she put more oil on her hands, massaging him tenderly and kissing him as she felt his blood rising within her palms.
“Now me,” she said, pushing her mouth into his ear as she spoke. Jay rose, shining and rippling beneath the oil. She lay on her stomach and he straddled her legs, oiling the inside of her thighs, his fingers inching upwards as she trembled beneath him. He poured the oil directly onto her and eased her legs wider apart, his fingers gliding around her most intimate of places as she murmured with pleasure to encourage him. He dropped his head to the pillow to look at her while he drew circles around it, gazing into her eyes and asking her silently, as his finger continued to draw circles, but more slowly.
She held the gaze wantonly, saying nothing but saying everything, and turned her face from him so he knew all of her body was
his. And she lay quiet and still as he took her because she did not want any pleasure from it, only needing him to know that she was his in a way she had been no other man’s.
They lay silent for a long time before he spoke. “Was that ok with you?”
She said nothing for a moment, not knowing if it was.
“It was different,” she said.
But her answer did not seem to satisfy him, so he pressed her. “Does that mean you would do it again?”
“Not every time.”
“But sometimes?”
“If that’s what you wanted.”
Later, Jay’s movement awoke Isobel as he sought to disentangle himself from her body. As he noticed her stir, he playfully slapped her twice on the bottom. “Chop, chop, it’s getting late; we need to be making a move.”
And before she could object or suggest an alternative, he freed himself and was heading for the bathroom; Isobel had hardly collected her thoughts before she heard the shower running. She followed him into the bathroom, saddened and feeling cheapened by his abruptness, and went into the shower. She opened the hotel shampoo and began to wash and caress him although she sensed that his business-like manner was intended as a signal that he did indeed need to make tracks. But nevertheless, as she used the shampoo to help glide her hands around Jay’s lower body she again asked him if he could stay, by now in hope rather than expectation.
“Can’t you take a flight in the morning; surely a few hours can’t make that much difference?”
“Sorry, I’d love to but I have appointments,” he said briskly, kissing her on the top of the head and walking out of the shower. Isobel remained a couple more minutes, letting the force of the shower beat down on her head and the water cascade down her body. When she emerged from the bathroom, her hair still dripping wet, wrapped up in the heavy cotton Savoy bathrobe, Jay was already dressed and seemingly ready to go. He was clearly waiting for her.
“If you need to rush off, then I’ll stay on here for a while and sort myself out,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, her posture languid.
“Unfortunately, the room is only booked till six. So we need to go. And anyway, I feel responsible to make sure you get away safely.”
“I’ll just call down and extend the booking. I’m sure that won’t be a problem, particularly as they know you so well here. And anyway, I’ve arranged to meet Maria here at seven.”
“At the Savoy? So you couldn’t have stayed over with me anyway?” He didn’t sound hurt but she felt a confusing sort of accusation in his voice.
“Yes, I could, and I still can if you want me to. Maria knows the situation. If I call her now there will be no problem.” Isobel stood in front of him, her hair scattering droplets of water on the carpet. She could see anxiety in his face. “It’s not the bill is it, Jay? You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll take care of it in the morning.” She headed towards the hotel phone.
“Isobel, I wouldn’t dream of letting you pick up the bill,” he said, moving quickly between her and the phone. “By all means, stay on here for an hour, I’ll sort it out with reception when I go down.”
“Well, actually, I thought, as I’m in town already, I would stay over. Peter’s half expecting me to anyway. So I’ll need the room for the night. That’s ok, isn’t it?” Again she saw him hesitate. “If you think there might be some problem, I’ll go down to reception after you’ve gone and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Jay shrugged. “That sounds great. And I’m sure there will be no problem with reception. You take as much time as you need. And it’s my turn to call you next, right?”
“That would be nice,” she said with a smile.
Jay grabbed his bag, gave her a passing kiss, and was through the door. If Isobel had looked down the corridor she would have seen him break into a run as he reached the corner.Thirty-eight
Jay almost flung himself onto the reception desk, panting with breathlessness as he stared desperately at the young blonde who watched him from behind the marbled counter.
“Is everything ok, Mr. Brooke?” she inquired.
“I would like to settle the bill.” Jay looked around, his face full of worry, and tried to regain his breath.
“Of course, sir,” she said, her expression suggesting concern. “Has everything been satisfactory?”
“Yes, everything was first class.” He forced his mouth into a smile and tried to focus on her as she printed the bill, too panicked to look around again.
“I will need to charge you for the night.”
“No, no, I am not checking out.” He waited several agonising seconds for a response but she merely stared at him in confusion. “I have booked the room for the night and I am staying the night. But I will be in a hurry in the morning, so I want to settle my account now.”
“But it is not necessary, Mr. Brooke,” she replied with a bright smile. “We have your credit card details. You can leave in the morning at your leisure and everything will be taken care of.”
Jay shook his head frantically. “I’m sorry…” He leant forward to read her badge, “Kaisa, I know that. But I would still like to settle my account now, if that doesn’t screw up your system, that is.”
Kaisa looked at him shrewdly for a moment and nodded. “As you wish, Mr. Brooke. Any additional charges will be added to your account.”
Jay gestured his consent and snatched the bill from the desk. It took all his self-control to remain in the building and he walked businesslike to a quiet corner to call Lucy, formulating a plan beneath the soothing light of the chandeliers. The phone rang for what seemed an eternity but yielded no answer. Jay checked his watch and saw that it was now six-thirty.
“Fuck,” he mouthed with a wary eye on the door, his panic increasing with the realisation that if he did not do something in five minutes, he and Lucy would run into Isobel and Maria in the foyer. He backed into the corner, although it couldn’t hide him, and called Lucy again but still he could get no answer. Was she ignoring him, fearing with foresight he would seek to change their plans? He wheeled to face the wall in despair, pushing the phone into his forehead as he screwed up his face in hopelessness.
“Are you all right, sir?” asked a voice behind him.
“Yes, yes, fine,” he snapped, waving away the bellboy with uncharacteristic rudeness.
A dark female silhouette loomed at the doorway and Jay closed his eyes slowly, sure it was over. But no cry of recognition pierced his fear and he opened them again, letting the light flood back in, to see an unknown woman conversing with the bellboy. Jay’s heart raced and he made the rash decision to break his own rule, the first commandment of adultery; he took out his phone and sent Lucy a text.
“Urgent. Call me now.”
He fired off the text, and waited for what seemed an age, yet despite his prayers, his phone remained still and silent. He called again, each ring sounding like a death toll. No answer; he composed a second text.
“Urgent, change of plan. Go directly to Ritz. Do not go to Savoy. I am waiting for you in Ritz. J.”
Jay knew he could no longer stay in the foyer of the Savoy; every second he remained pushed him closer to the end of everything. He briefly debated concealing himself outside, somewhere near the entrance, and intercepting Lucy as she arrived. But as six-forty heralded another stream of guests, he remembered that there were two entrances, and Lucy could use either. He agonised for a few moments, unsure what to do, and glanced at his watch again, ten to seven, Isobel would probably be leaving the room now, on her way down to collect Maria.
Jay sprinted for the concierge desk, slamming his hands down on it with relief and staring wildly up at the concierge, a tall, slickhaired rake of a man with a nose like a beak.
“Yes, Mr. Brooke, how can I help you this evening?” He looked at Jay blankly, battling to remain professional and keep the gloating amusement from his face.
“I need you to do two things for me, right now.”
The man all
owed himself a smile; he loved urgent requests, they were by far the most profitable. “If it is possible, Mr. Brooke.”
“I need you to post a man at the Embankment entrance this second, and to intercept the arrival of a young lady. She’s in her late twenties, tall, attractive, and blonde. You know the type. Her name is Lucy Baker. When she arrives, direct her straight to the Ritz. She must under no circumstances come in to the Savoy. Understand?”
Jay handed over two fifty-pound notes, and the concierge nodded to the man beside him who sped off through the foyer in the direction of the back entrance. Jay glanced quickly from his watch to the lifts, knowing Isobel might appear at any moment.
The concierge held his chin as he watched the beads of sweat form on Jay’s brow.
“And the second request, Mr. Brooke?” he asked with a knowing delicateness.
“The same thing, but at the main door,” said Jay, already holding out the money.
The concierge looked at him with the faintest trace of a sneer and did not move. “Unfortunately, Mr. Brooke, as you can see, we are very busy this evening. And my colleague, much as he might like to, cannot be at two entrances at the same time. And I myself am required to remain here,” he spread his arms wide, “at the desk.”
“I only need you to cover the door for five minutes, ten at the most.”
“That is very difficult, Mr. Brooke,” he said, looking pointedly at his pocket.
Jay peeled off another four fifty-pound notes.
“Does that make it easier?”
The concierge signalled across the foyer and a bell boy sprinted over. “Cover this desk for the next ten minutes.” He turned to Jay. “I believe I have your number, Mr. Brooke. When the young lady arrives we will put her in a taxi, and let you know when we have done so. Now sir, perhaps you would like to slip out through the porter’s entrance?”
The Ritz was illuminated in imposing grandeur, seeming to extend forever into the early evening sky, as Jay’s taxi pulled up beside it. A royal blue Rolls Royce embellished with the hotel number plate stood proudly outside, reinforcing that only the discerning and deep pocketed need cross the threshold. A man in a top hat and coat below his knees materialised from nowhere and held the door open, allowing him to step out onto the pristine pavement like some sort of king. Jay nodded his thanks as he crossed his palm, and all but ran inside, slowing only on the approach to the desk. He scanned the lobby as he walked through, but he saw no sign of Lucy, and had given up on any message from the concierge. The receptionist, uncannily similar to the blonde from the Savoy, smiled an empty smile as he reached the counter.