I pass him one, and the look on his face is all I need to know, to make me realize I’ve made a pretty huge mistake.
“Not for me,” he says, “but please, don’t let me stop you.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” I croak, blushing to my roots, as I quickly hide both cans back in my bag again. How could I have been so stupid? “I’m not the kind of girl to drink on my own, on a train.”
He can obviously sense my embarrassment though, and to lighten the mood he reaches for the candies. “But I could murder a Percy Pig!” he laughs, tearing the bag open, taking out a jelly pig and passing me one, too.
He seems to know just what to say, so I still don’t know why I’m so nervous about telling him my big bad secret. This isn’t the right time though, but soon, soon. I promise.
§
We check in at the hotel, which is this adorable little boutique place by the seafront. Nothing too fancy, but you can tell they’ve made a real effort to make the place look special nonetheless. All the rooms are themed, and ours is themed like a 1950’s boudoir. It’s so cute and fun: all these kitsch knick-knacks everywhere you look, and in the middle a huge pink bed. It’s definitely not a place Will would have chosen in a million years, but he obviously loves how adorable it is.
“This place is so funny, Chrissie!” he laughs, looking around in amazement. “However did you find it?”
“I did some research on the internet,” I reply. “Why? How do you find all the amazing hotels that you stay in?”
“To be honest,” he blushes, “I get my assistant to do the research. But not Paris. I booked that one myself. I chose it because I knew you’d love it. And I love this too,” he adds, drawing me to him in a huge hug. “Really. I feel like I’m going to relax this weekend. I was a little apprehensive about the idea at first, but now I’m really looking forward to putting my shorts on!”
“Whoa, there,” I laugh. “Not too soon. This place may well be laid back and relaxed but I’m still not having you wearing shorts to dinner. That would be a step too far ...”
“Speaking of dinner,” he says. “I’m starving. Where are we going?”
“I haven’t actually booked anywhere yet,” I announce. “I thought we’d try a bit of what we Americans call spontaneity. Ever heard of it? How about we just go for a wander and see where we end up?”
“Spontaneity?” laughs Will. “Now that’s certainly a word I haven’t heard in a while, and certainly not something I’ve learnt in business. But I sure like the sound of it. Come on, let’s go.”
So after quickly running a comb through my hair we hit the streets, and wow! Brighton is just adorable; full of cute, tiny little streets packed with brightly colored shops and restaurants and cafes. And the people! The people are amazing. Just as individual as the place they live in. We pass punks and goths, and people dressed in all colors of the rainbow – it’s clearly a place for true eccentrics to congregate.
After a while, we come across a trendy-looking pizza place and at the same time, we both decisively say to each other, “Pizza!” and head inside.
It’s a buzzing, vibrant neighbourhood place, decorated in a stripped back, modern style, with a select menu of delicious-sounding pizzas. We grab a table and I excuse myself to head to the bathroom.
Alone in the toilet, I take a deep breath. Is this the night I say it?
I know I should.
I know that’s what this whole trip was about, right?
But do I really want to ruin such a perfect night?
It’s so great to watch Will relax and unwind in front of my eyes. I guess I’ve never really thought before about how stressful his life must be. He works long, hard hours, and running your own company like that must be so stressful.
And even our last trip away – he planned all of that, and it was perfect. Doesn’t he deserve a perfect weekend away, too?
I won’t tell him tonight, I decide, but maybe tomorrow – walking along the beach. Maybe that will be the right time ...
§
“What’s this?” I say, as I return, pointing at the flute of golden fizzy liquid, there on the table in front of me.
“It’s a glass of champagne,” he says.
“But ...?” I reply, taking my seat.
“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour on the train,” he explains gently. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. It was a kind and thoughtful gesture, and I realised that we’ve never really spoken about my feelings towards alcohol.”
“No,” I say. “I suppose we haven’t.”
And of course, he’s right. Because when I found out about Emma’s accident – about the drink driver that killed his wife – I just guessed that that was why he didn’t drink. And I assumed that he hated everyone else drinking, too.
“I made a personal decision to give up alcohol,” he begins quietly. “It was largely because of how alcohol robbed me of my wife, but also because, in the dark days following the accident, I took comfort in the bottle. But luckily, I realised quickly that it was becoming a problem, so I stopped before my behaviour hurt anyone – the way I’d been hurt too. It’s worked for me, the past few years, because I’ve needed a clear head to concentrate on my business and look after Tabitha. And I’m glad I stayed away, because alcohol can be a dangerous false friend to the lonely. I’m not saying I’ll never drink again, but it’s certainly not something I’m interested in revisiting just yet.”
He pauses, letting out a big sigh, like a huge weight has been lifted from him. This is obviously hard for him to talk about, and I feel so honoured that he’s finally opened up to me like this.
“I should also have mentioned that I have no problem with other people drinking, responsibly of course. And you’ve so very kindly abstained all the time we’ve been together. At first I though maybe you just didn’t drink either, but I realised tonight that you’ve been holding back on my behalf. And I don’t want to hold you back in any way, Chrissie. So please enjoy this glass of champagne.”
“Thank you,” I say, picking up the glass and taking a sip. “It’s lovely. But you’re right. It’s been so long since I’ve had a drink, this is gonna go straight to my head, so I’d best take it slowly! But most of all, thank you for talking to me, Will. It really hasn’t been a problem staying sober with you, I can promise you that. Honestly, I’m not a big drinker myself. I’ve never liked feeling out of control. But the occasional cocktail or glass of crisp white wine or champagne? I’m certainly not going to turn that down.”
He smiles at me, his handsome features lighting up, taking my breath away all over again, he’s just so damn gorgeous. And I’m impressed by how calmly and gentlemanly he’s handled this issue, too. He’s so ... well, grown up. So why does that make me even more nervous about telling him my secret?
I try to push the thoughts from my mind, because Will’s rapidly becoming more and more perfect each and every day, and it dawns on me for the first time how truly terrified I am that he might not be able to fix my problem after all – that I simply won’t be able to stay, that I’ll be forced back to the other side of the Atlantic, and we’ll be separated, and the magic spell that’s surrounded us up until now will finally be broken.
“What’s wrong?” he says. “Something’s up, isn’t it?”
The worry must be visible on my face, and I quickly try to hide it behind a smile.
“Nothing’s up,” I say, shaking my head as if to finally banish all the negative thoughts away into the corners of the room. “I was just thinking about you being lonely, and I don’t like thinking about that.”
“Me neither,” he says. “But it’s been so long now since I’ve been lonely, Chrissie. Life just feels full of possibility with you in it. I feel so much freer. Do you know, that train journey was only an hour. I can’t believe I’ve never even been here before. It’s so charming. Tabby will love it. We’ll have to come back here with her one day. All three of us.”
And so the evening goes. We feast on delicious pizza, and I slowly sip my
glass of champagne, as we talk – just fun, simple, relaxed conversation. And for this one evening, we’re like any other couple in here. Just a normal everyday couple. And it’s wonderful.
§
Back at the hotel, things take a more playful turn. There’s something about this room that seems to put us both in a certain kind of mood.
“I feel like we’re a married couple from the 1950’s,” I giggle.
“Well, darling,” he says, putting on a strict commanding voice, “in that case, I’ve just come home from work and I expect you to rub my feet, have my slippers and pipe ready, and the dinner on the table.”
“Oh, darling,” I say, pretending to be mega upset.
We’re both sitting on the bed and I move to the floor so I’m sitting there by his knees, gazing up at him dotingly.
“Oh darling, I’m so ashamed,” I continue, hamming it up. “You must think I’m such a dreadful, dreadful wife, but I burnt the dinner. It’s ruined.”
“Why you slattern!” he says. “I knew it! I’ve been working hard all day and you’ve been lazing about the house, watching your soap operas and eating chocolates. There’s nothing for it, I’m afraid. A man must discipline his wife, and you’re going to have to be punished.”
“Yes I suppose so, darling, I understand,” I say meekly, nodding and looking up at him through my eyelashes.
A wicked smile plays on his face, and I can tell just how much he’s enjoying this little game we’ve invented.
“Well, then, stand up,” he commands.
His eyes narrow and his face grows mock-serious, and I do just as he says, as he takes my hand and leads me over to the pastel pink, 1950’s boudoir chair in the corner of the room.
“Bend over,” he instructs.
And although it’s all just a silly game, it’s crazy – I can feel these electric chills of excitement running through my body, too. As I bend over the seat, I notice that Will is able to watch both of us in the large, gilt-framed mirror opposite. I fix my gaze on his reflection in it, that wicked, devilish smile spreading across his face as he tugs my dress roughly up around my hips, baring my ass.
“You’ve been a very bad ....”
He raises his hand and spanks me gently on my left buttock.
“Girl.”
I let out a little cry – half real, half playing along with this new kinky game of his. I didn’t even know I was into stuff like this; on paper it sounds kind of silly. But the way my body is responding, tells me a very different story.
“So?” he growls, his voice low and commanding. “Do you think you’ve had enough punishment yet?”
As he talks, I feel his fingers sliding between my buttocks, teasing my swollen pussy lips through the sodden fabric of my thong.
“No,” I whisper back, my voice trembling. “I think I still need a little more ... punishment.”
The last word comes out as little more than a breathy gasp, due to the fact that Will’s tugged my thong to one side and has started to tease my clit with his thumb.
“Very well,” he replies, pulling his hand away from my pussy, lifting it into the air, then bringing it down again in one swift powerful movement.
Crack!
The sound of his palm against my bare ass rings out around the room, and I watch us in the mirror – Will still fully clothed, his mouth flashing in a grin, while I’m squirming and sighing in his lap, my ass cheeks now both a glowing rosy pink.
He grabs hold of the waistband of my panties then tugs them roughly down over my thighs, and I keep on watching in the mirror as he spreads my ass wide with both hands, cupping my buttocks in his hot palms for a moment, then beginning to tease my pussy with his fingertips, using my own wetness to moisten my clit and stroke my swollen lips until I’m moaning and writhing.
“Think you’ve had enough yet?” he growls. “Or would you like some more?”
“More,” I gasp. “Please, more.”
God. It’s crazy how much I want this – and didn’t even realize it until right now. But the way he’s taking control, the way he’s dominating me right now? I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter in my entire fucking life.
“Very well,” he commands. “In that case, get on your hands and knees, now.”
“Y-yes,” I whimper, wanting nothing more than to do exactly as he says, quickly climbing off his lap and positioning myself for him on the bed, on my hands and knees, dress still pushed up around my waist, panties pulled down around my thighs, back arched, my whole body trembling as I feel him move up behind me, unbuckling his pants, freeing himself.
I feel his hand slide once more between my legs, cupping my aching sex, thumbing my clit for a moment before stroking my pussy lips, then working my wetness up towards my tight asshole, teasing me there in slow sensual circles, even pushing his finger a little way inside me, causing me to gasp and moan as I push my face into the sheets and arch my back even further, pushing my ass back against his hand, eager for more.
He pulls his hand away, just long enough to spit on his fingers, before again stroking me there, working the wetness deeper and deeper inside me, teasing me, stretching me wider.
“Like that, do you?” he grows, as he teases my ass with his fingertip.
“Yes,” I moan into the sheets, whole body trembling now.
“Think you could handle a little more of me?” he asks, pushing two fingers even deeper into my ass, sending out a fresh round of pleasure ricocheting around my writhing body.
“Please, yes, more,” I groan, unable to even form full sentences anymore, just knowing all of a sudden that yes, I want him, like this – want to take him this way, want to feel him deep inside me, want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole fucking life.
“Very good,” he growls, pulling his hand away, leaving me there, face in the sheets, ass offered to him, clit throbbing madly, as I feel my own wetness trickling down the insides of my thighs.
And a moment later, I feel him grabbing me by the hips and pulling me backwards. There’s a pause, and then I feel it – the hot crown of his cock touching against my asshole. My whole body’s trembling now with electric anticipation. I’ve never done this before, but I want it, so so badly.
He pushes, and for a moment I don’t know if I’m going to be able to take him. At first all I can feel is pain, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, if we’ve rushed into this too quickly maybe, but then slowly – oh so slowly – I feel myself relaxing and with a deep groan of pleasure I slowly take him inside me. And oh my god. The feeling’s so fucking intense, it’s almost too much to take. It’s like pleasure and pain are mingling into one delicious new sensation. He’s stretching me so damn wide already, and he’s only a little way in. I moan again, as he pushes another thick hot inch of himself inside me, and I arch my back and reach behind me, my face pushed into the sheets as I spread myself wide for him, another flash of that .
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Play with your cunt until you come.”
I whimper and nod in reply, feeling another intense flash of pleasure as my fingers touch against my swollen clit. And as I work myself there, I feel my ass yielding to him, as he takes me, gripping me by the hips, sliding his hot thick cock deep inside me with slow sensual strokes while I play with my pussy, my whole body quaking with pleasure.
A few moments later, the intensity builds to breaking point and with a final shudder I’m coming hard, muscles clenching tight around the base of his cock as I whimper and moan. A split second later, I hear Will cry out too and then I feel him, pumping that liquid heat deep into my ass as my own orgasm still flashes around my trembling body.
And damn. I’ve never felt anything like this before; so naughty and kinky, yet so right, so natural. And a moment later, as he draws me to him in a passionate embrace, smothering me with loving tender kisses, there’s no shame or awkwardness in what we just did. It’s like we both want the exact same things, and I just feel so happy to be here with him, so content.
<
br /> I just wish it could last forever.
In the late afternoon sun, we stroll hand in hand across the beach, taking in the sea air and enjoying the warmth of the sun on our bodies. And yes, I am finally wearing my shorts. We sit down on the sand and stare into the gently lapping waves, and I put my arm around her slender shoulders. She sighs contentedly and rests her head on my shoulder, and it’s like two pieces of a jigsaw fitting perfectly together.
“Just look how big the sea is,” she says, the excitement brimming in her voice. “There’s so much world out there, Will.”
“There is,” I say. “And I want you to see it all, Chrissie. I meant what I said last night. I don’t want to tie you down in any way. I know how important your dreams of travelling are. And I want you to know that when you’re ready to go exploring, I’ll let you go. But I’ll always wait for you to come back to me, too.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. But I can sense that something’s up.
I worry for a moment that she thinks I’m gently trying to get rid of her.
I’m not. Of course I’m not.
“And I want to come with you, too,” I add passionately. “Like Paris, I want to take you to all the romantic cities this world has to offer. Rome, and Vienna, and Barcelona. But I want you to be free to explore on your own, too. I know you’re young, and I know how much I enjoyed my solo travels. I want you to experience them, too. I know that you’re independent, and I really value that about you. The fact that you want to explore and do your own thing, not just get pregnant and be a housewife.”
“I do want to see the world,” she says. “And before I took the job with you, saving up was so damn hard. I thought I was never gonna get there. But now, my travel fund is actually looking pretty healthy. Thank you for being so generous – I know you don’t have to pay me as much as you do.”
I want to write her a cheque for a million pounds this very second, send her off around the world, first class.
But I also know that won’t make her happy. I know she needs to earn the money on her own – to forge her own path – and I respect that independence so much.
Barely Yours Page 12