Extinction

by Carol Anne Davis

  He undid her top and discarded it, was equally adept at unfastening her bra strap. Olivia watched him intently as he tongued her nipples, loving the dark silkiness of his hair, the nape of his neck, the look in his eyes as he raised his head and stared at her. She lifted her hips, indicating that she wanted him to remove her jeans but he either didn’t pick up on her cue or decided to ignore it, instead continuing to play with her breasts. She stroked his thick, dark hair, ran her fingers down his back as far as she could reach, feeling his muscles move beneath her fingers. His arms were wonderfully hirsute so she stroked them too. She kept pushing her belly against his, wordlessly encouraging him to finish undressing her, was gratified when he at last reached for her zip.

  He tugged down her denims, threw them on the floor, reached for her panties. Suddenly self-conscious, Olivia unbuttoned his cords, wanting him to be as naked as she. She winced inwardly as he peeled her briefs away from her pubis and they made a slight squelching sound: she was very, very wet.

  She watched as he removed his trousers and boxers to reveal a sizeable erection. He was bigger than Marc and also thicker. She tensed slightly as she felt him probe at her entrance: was this going to hurt? She felt him slide in a little way, cried out at the rush of pleasure. He kept pushing slowly, methodically and she felt herself open up all the way. He stayed still inside her for a moment, as if letting her get used to his girth, then began to thrust.

  For a moment, Olivia wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She normally stroked her husband’s face as they made love, but it felt like too intimate a gesture to make towards Adam, too maternal. He wanted a modern young lover, presumably someone raunchy, so she grabbed hold of his buttocks and pulled him further in. She also fingered the area at the base of his spine, close to where his crease began, and felt a sense of power when he groaned and increased his thrusts.

  She was one of the many women who couldn’t come from intercourse, who needed some kind of direct clitoral stimulation, but she loved the feel of a man inside her, the sensation of being filled up, almost of being possessed. The only thing she didn’t like was when Marc couldn’t come, when he fucked on and on until she dried up and it started to hurt. Would Adam keep going until she felt bruised internally? No sooner had she asked herself the question when he gave a short grunt and flopped more fully on top of her.

  Had he come? A moment later, his penis slipped out, accompanied by a deluge of warm liquid. Ugh, she also hated this bit. She realized too late that she should have insisted he wear a condom, but she and Marc hadn’t used contraception for years so it hadn’t been something she’d thought about in the heat of the moment. Olivia closed her legs and tilted her hips upwards in a bid to stop more of their mingled juices from coating her thighs. She kissed his neck and he rolled onto his back, put his hands behind his head and seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.

  Was that it? Wasn’t he going to bring her off? Suddenly feeling low – and, if she was honest, slightly used – Olivia closed her eyes and listened to Adam’s increasingly deep breathing. For the first time, he reminded her of Marc.

  A few minutes later, she stirred as an assured male hand slid down her arm.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘You’ve worn me out.’

  ‘Likewise!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that I can revive you.’

  She gasped as he reached between her legs and teased her labial lips apart. She could tell that she was still aroused and soaking, that she wouldn’t take long to come. She always got there when Marc put his hand over her pubis and gently massaged the entire area, indirectly stimulating her clit.

  Ouch! She flinched as Adam put his finger directly on top of the little bud and gave an experimental rub. Feeling awkward, she pushed his hand away, murmured, ‘Not so direct, please.’

  ‘Mm?’ He returned his fingers to her labia.

  ‘Like this.’ She took hold of his wrist and guided his palm to her pubic area, put her hand on top of his and showed him what she liked.

  ‘I love it that you’re shaved,’ he murmured.

  ‘It’s good for oral,’ Olivia replied. She felt a frisson – was that word French? – run through her at the thought of Adam’s tongue lapping at her most sensitive places. Marc had never been keen on licking her.

  But, for now, she had to settle for his hand and he was still manipulating her too firmly. Should she just fake it? It would be a poor start to a new relationship.

  ‘Softer, please,’ she whispered, adding, ‘I’m too sensitive down there for my own good!’

  ‘Some women like a rougher touch,’ Adam said.

  Did he like rough sex? In the future, would he hold her down or tie her up? As he began to touch her more lightly, using the circular motion that she loved, she thought the usual shameful thoughts that she used when she masturbated, and soon felt herself getting close to the edge. She had her eyes closed but sensed that he had shifted his weight, then she felt his other hand pinching gently at her nearest nipple. The pleasure went in waves from her breast to her belly and she stiffened as she felt the familiar signal go off in her groin, followed by a few seconds of suspended animation before her climax began. She heard herself emitting the guttural, animalistic groans which always accompanied her orgasm, was vaguely aware of his sigh of satisfaction, presumably at a job well done.

  ‘You needed that,’ he said, as she curled into his side.

  ‘It’s been months,’ Olivia admitted, remembering her role as the frustrated widow. It had, indeed, been ages as Marc was always too tired nowadays.

  ‘Do you often touch yourself?’

  ‘Most nights.’ She wanted him to know that she was highly sexed, responsive.

  ‘Same here!’ he said, and laughed.

  ‘You must get lots of offers from women.’ She wanted to know more about him for personal rather than professional reasons. Whatever she learned now wouldn’t be passed on to other cops.

  ‘Some – but I never have sex with my patients.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘You, of course, are the exception.’

  ‘Why?’ She held her breath.

  ‘Because you’re not damaged like they are, just recovering from a specific difficult event.’

  ‘But you’ve counselled other widows like me?’

  ‘Mm, but they tend to be older. You’re young and beautiful and lively. What’s not to like?’

  He hadn’t mentioned any of her non-physical attributes, Olivia thought, such as her love of the English language or her irreverent sense of humour. There again, she’d been playing up her sexiness and coolness in the hope of attracting him.

  ‘You’ve got an amazing body.’

  His words broke into her daydream.

  ‘I used to go to the gym a lot.’

  ‘You don’t have to. My guess is that you’re naturally slim.’

  ‘And you?’ She ran her palm down his flat stomach, was gratified to find that he was erect again.

  ‘Oh, I keep fit through copious acts of masturbation,’ he said and laughed.

  ‘Want me to . . .?’ Olivia asked, wrapping her fingers around his cock and beginning to move them up and down.

  ‘I’d rather,’ Adam said breathlessly, ‘that you gave him a kiss.’

  Drat, she hadn’t had any practice at oral sex. She and Marc had hooked up when they were young and entirely inexperienced so had always just aroused each other by kissing and caressing. She’d read up on oral sex in her early twenties, had suggested that they try it, but he’d come up within seconds, spitting hairs, and looking green. Strangely, he had been equally unenthusiastic when she went down on him and, before long, had pushed her head away. In those days he’d wanted sex to be dreamily romantic, another way of getting close to her.

  Uncertainly, Olivia kissed her way down the therapist’s chest and stomach, paused when she reached his erection. She licked the top in an experimental gesture, felt pleased when he jerked and gasped. She licked it again then felt his hands on her neck, guiding her face further d
own.

  ‘Suck it like you would a lollipop,’ he said.

  Had he sensed that she was new to this? Did that make her more or less exciting? Olivia looked at him and was reassured when he smiled back at her. God, he was beautiful. She took the top two or three centimetres of his hardness between her lips and began to move her mouth rhythmically up and down. She was aware of his hand on the top of her head, holding her in place, a gesture she found both faintly troubling and exciting. He was a man who knew what he wanted, unlike Marc.

  Up, down, up, down. His fingers were entwined in the hair near her scalp now, tugging slightly. It was strangely arousing and Olivia redoubled her efforts to take him over the edge. She felt a pleasant saltiness coating her tongue, presumably as his pre-ejaculate increased, and was pleased when he began to move his hips up, breathing hard. She felt powerful, sexual, aware of the moment but also of future possibilities. There were so many new things that she wanted to try out in bed with him.

  He had to be really close now, as he’d started to make small noises, punctuated by gasps and increased movement. He cried out at the same moment as she felt a thin, warm squirt of liquid on the roof of her mouth. She swallowed, remembering an article she’d read in a magazine which said that men saw it as a sign of acceptance. It was followed by another squirt which she also swallowed down.

  ‘Wow,’ Adam said, stretching out.

  ‘You taste lovely,’ Olivia said, meaning it. She’d read that some men could take ages to come, even from oral, but Adam had been flatteringly quick. Maybe he’d been fantasizing about her for weeks in the same way that she’d been dreaming about him?

  ‘We aim to please,’ Adam replied.

  She curled into his side. ‘So, what do you do in your spare time?’

  She wanted to be able to picture his daily life, his routines.

  ‘I don’t have any!’

  ‘You can’t work all hours.’

  ‘Not here, no – but, as you know, I also do voluntary work.’

  ‘So, if you were celebrating, where would you go?’

  She sensed him hesitate.

  ‘I suppose that I’d choose the casino.’

  ‘You’re a roulette player?’

  ‘Blackjack.’

  ‘You must teach me to play sometime.’

  She smiled as Adam kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’m hardly a maestro.’

  ‘Compared to me you are – I’ve never played anything more challenging than Snap!’

  Again he smiled and, this time, ruffled her hair. ‘Ah, the old games are the best.’

  ‘Do you like eating out?’ She loved Indian food, was experimental in her choice of dishes.

  ‘Mainly just at the casino as it’s handy. Oh, now you have me down as an inveterate gambler!’

  ‘Not at all.’ She kissed his upper arm. ‘Do you like a curry?’

  ‘Love it!’

  She waited for him to ask her out for a meal but instead he closed his eyes. Olivia cast a quick look at her watch. She’d have to leave now if she was to make it back to Dorchester without arousing Marc’s suspicions.

  ‘Got to get home?’ Adam’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Sort of. I’ll better give my neighbour a break from Mia.’

  ‘Yeah, she’ll be needing her mummy.’ He looked around the room as he spoke, and she could tell that he wasn’t fully concentrating on their talk.

  ‘Oh, she’s not clingy. She loves being around new people,’ Olivia said. She didn’t want him to see her as unavailable or as a brood mare rather than an independent girl. He’d be so pleased when she told him that she didn’t have a daughter, that she was free of encumbrances.

  ‘Still, you don’t want to take advantage of this older woman.’

  ‘I guess not,’ Olivia murmured, feeling dismissed. She reached for her bra and panties and stood up to put them on, straightening quickly after pulling up her knickers, wanting him to see her body looking taut.

  ‘Love the underwear,’ Adam said. ‘I like the pure look.’

  ‘We aim to please,’ she laughed, echoing his earlier remark.

  She continued to dress, and watched him putting on his own clothes. Already she wanted him again.

  ‘I’ll just nip to the loo and freshen up a bit,’ she murmured.

  ‘You know the way.’ As she left the bedroom, she heard Adam opening the window. Was he airing the house before his next patient? He’d told her that she was the last client that he was seeing today.

  In the bathroom, she used a wet wipe to wash away their mingled juices, used two others to clean under her armpits. She also got out her travel toothbrush and cleaned her teeth before adding new make-up and scent. Now she looked presentable, albeit slightly flushed.

  ‘Alright?’ He was already standing by the outer door when she walked down the hallway.

  ‘Sorted.’ She smiled at him until she got close enough to give him a kiss. His mouth on hers was receptive but not passionate. Still, the poor man was probably orgasmed out.

  ‘See you soon,’ he said and lightly touched her arm.

  Was he planning to phone her and arrange the next date? She’d ideally have liked to know now about their next meeting but was supposed to be playing the part of the merry widow, a young woman who didn’t fret about anything.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she murmured, striving to sound cool. Maybe he wanted a day or two to consider his next move? She’d read that some men needed to create a degree of distance after making love but that they came back stronger if you left them alone. They were going to be fine, Olivia thought as she walked towards the railway station, a dynamic duo. She could still hear the noises of pleasure that he’d made when she sucked him, could feel the sensations left by his hardness between her legs.

  FORTY

  ‘You’re in a good mood,’ Beth said.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  She’d half expected him to be distant with her for cancelling their night of wine-drinking, and possibly song, at short notice.

  ‘No reason – but isn’t February supposed to be the cruellest month?’

  ‘That’s April. You clearly don’t know your T.S. Eliot.’

  Beth smiled. ‘And you do? Adam, you’re such a modern man that I didn’t have you down as a poetry lover!’

  He smiled back. ‘Oh, the mums of my younger clients are impressed if I spout a few lines so I make good use of my Golden Treasury Of Verse.’

  ‘That’s why I’m just doing voluntary work and you’re in private practice! I should bone up on Philip Larkin.’

  ‘You could consider going back to uni, doing a psychology course,’ Adam said.

  Beth shook her head. ‘I did an evening class every winter when Brian was alive, but, after he died, I gave up on further education, just wanted to have fun.’

  ‘And that’s where Matthew came into the picture?’

  She shook her head again. ‘Oh, I started having fun long before dating him! I don’t need a man to have a good time. Admittedly, he made me feel looked after for the first time since widowhood but when he changed . . .’

  ‘So you’ve given up on night classes for good?’

  Beth shrugged, not sure if she wanted to talk in absolutes. ‘At least for the time being. I don’t just talk to widows and widowers here, but do a lot of informal counselling at the hospital so there’s not much time left to fit in a weekly class plus additional studying time.’

  ‘I know what you mean – there aren’t enough hours in the day!’ Adam said and laughed. ‘God, my mother used to say that. It’s just that you’re so good with the bereaved that you really should be doing it full time.’

  It was the nicest thing that anyone had said to her for some weeks and Beth felt rather chuffed by the comment.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, touching his arm. They were seated together in the bereavement drop-in centre but snow had been falling all morning so no one had come in. This was her chance, she thought, to get to know Adam better. It would
be great to have such an intelligent and sensitive friend.

  ‘So, what made you do a bereavement course?’

  ‘As I think I told you, my wife committed suicide and it was a terrible shock. I wanted to talk to someone professional, but, at the time, there was a big waiting list in this area because of a lack of voluntary counsellors. So I went private in the short term then, when I’d recovered, signed up as a volunteer.’

  ‘As much as you do recover,’ Beth said. ‘I still have my occasional widow’s lows.’

  ‘Same here – well, a widower’s low. It goes with the territory.’

  ‘And how do you get through it?’

  ‘Just socialize like a mad thing!’

  Beth realized that they were more alike than she’d thought. ‘Me too.’

  ‘People who haven’t been through it think that you’re running away from the grief, but there are enough hours to grieve when you come home from a night out and when you’re getting ready for work in the morning. There’s no point in wallowing in it further,’ Adam said.

  She nodded, glad to have someone who understood. ‘I feel the same – but it’s amazing how many people have opinions on how you should live when they’ve never been through it. At the six-month stage, I even had my workmates – I used to work in insurance – hint that I was partying too much, that I’d recovered with indecent haste, but socializing was just my way of coping. It’s three and a half years now and I still miss him lots.’

  ‘Oh, they all think that they’re experts, even when they’ve never been widowed. You should have heard my parents – they wanted me to turn the house into a shrine for Helen,’ Adam replied.

  ‘It must have been a shock for them, though, losing their daughter-in-law so suddenly.’

  ‘Oh, it was. They said that she was like the daughter that they never had. She’d go round and see them all the time when I was working. There were four people in that marriage and I played the lesser part.’