Darkest Fantasies
Page 8
Kevin sat up in sudden shock. It took a moment to register the fact that he was in his own room, in his own bed, and Esther was staring at him, concern in her eyes. 'What have you done to your lovely hair?' he demanded, dazed, not knowing what else to say.
Esther hid her amusement behind brows raised with apparent sarcasm. 'You don't recall? I'm not surprised, but last night it came out as more of a compliment. You told me it looked really sexy.'
'I said that?' He had always liked her long hair, it was very feminine, he thought. She looked older, somehow, with her hair short. Less - what was it? - that was it! Less naive. But as she carried on his heartbeat increased in panic.
'That wasn't all you said. I thought you'd had a bit too much to drink when you came home in a taxi, but I was still a bit surprised that the poor man had to help you up to the front door. You were babbling nonsense, Kevin. I was most embarrassed, it's not like you at all.'
'What was I saying?' Kevin asked warily.
'I couldn't make it out. Something about bonds - equity bonds, I think - oh, yes, and something about whipping someone into shape. Perhaps you should stay home today, you really don't seem at all like yourself.'
'Today? What day is today?'
'Wednesday, of course.'
'Wednesday?' Had he only been away three nights? It seemed like a week. He was utterly confused. So, he had come back by taxi last night, he thought he vaguely recalled as much, but why had the cow let him go? He pressed fingers to his temples and Esther became instantly contrite, her voice soothing, her hand testing his forehead for temperature.
'Oh, poor Kevin, I'm being a real nag. You're not feeling very well at all, are you? Perhaps you've got a dose of food poisoning from something you ate at the hotel. You really don't seem like your usual self. I do think you should stay at home today. Let me call you in sick, tell them that they're pushing you too hard. It's not acceptable, the amount of meetings you have to go to these days.'
'Oh, no,' he said frantically. 'I'd better go in. Must have a lot of work to catch up on. I'll be all right. I could do with a cup of tea, though, honey.'
After she had gone downstairs he looked at his wrists, his arms, his legs, but there was not the hint of a mark to be seen. He scratched his hands through his hair, stretched, and yawned. Had he been dreaming? But in spite of the fact that he had no marks, he ached in places he shouldn't be aching. Someone really had had him trussed up in a soundproofed room. But if that was so, what had happened to her assertion that she would keep him forever? Had she had a change of heart? Somehow that didn't fit with the character.
He scrabbled out of bed and stood for a while under the shower letting the hot water run over his body, and gradually his experience began to become less real. After a while he gave a doubtful laugh; Christ, what an experience. It hadn't been all bad, at that. Shame he didn't dare tell anyone about it.
Esther smiled to herself as she saw her husband off for the day. He would be so confused, and would probably simply feign illness because he had no rational explanation of his absence. When she guessed he would also feel guilty and do his utmost to prevent her from phoning in to work with her irritation, she was right. On arrival home that evening he came armed with a bunch of flowers.
He was also comfortingly attentive, as though trying to prove to himself that he had done his wife no injustice, and for the first time she saw behind the façade. It made her think back on all the other times he had come home with boxes of chocolates or flowers. The expression 'guilt payments' came strongly to mind. Goodness, how many women had he been with, the bastard? She also wondered how long this present bout of loyalty would last.
That over with, as far as Kevin was concerned, everything was back to normal, and that night he informed Esther, 'We have to attend one of those company socials on Saturday evening. The chairman only told me today. Apparently we're trying to sweet-talk a new bank into going along with our latest project in the city. He's asked for you to be there. I'm really sorry, I know you find these functions a bit of a bore, but it's important to my career.'
Esther had been looking forward to the weekend herself. She'd had her own plans all worked out. Though he didn't realise it, they included Kevin. Her disappointment showed. 'Must we?'
He kissed her briefly on the cheek. 'The chairman is pushing this family firm thing until it's getting up my nose. I'm afraid I really need you to be there. Do it for me, honey? Pretty please? I'll take you out and buy you a new dress. We can show our faces and leave early, if you like.'
'Please don't call me honey.'
Reading between the lines, she realised Kevin didn't want her there at all, but if the chairman was going to insist, what could he do? Poor Kevin. Having to take his little dab of a wife out must make him feel quite inferior. It would also cramp his style; she would have to do something about that. Perhaps it was time, after all. She was about to agree, but Kevin was still talking.
'Don't worry if you don't understand what they're going on about. Just agree with everything anyone says, Essie, and we'll get along fine.'
She smiled sweetly at him, seething at his condescending manner. How long had he talked to her like that? She couldn't recall. 'I think I can manage that, dear. But I think I'll go into town and buy myself a new dress while you're at work. I realised last time that what I was wearing wasn't quite appropriate. In fact, I might buy two or three if your firm is going to make a habit of this. I really don't want to be the one to stand in the way of your promotion. I know how much it means to you.'
He looked instantly worried. He knew how much dresses cost. 'Wait until Saturday morning, and I'll drive you in and help you choose.'
She replied pensively, kissing him on the cheek. 'No, I think that will be too late. If I don't find something I like I won't have time to shop around. Besides, this will be my little surprise for you. I know you well enough by now to know your tastes in women's clothes. I won't let you down, I promise.'
He gave in and smiled tolerantly. 'Well, if you're sure you want to go on your own, sugar. Just don't let anyone rip you off with designer labels.'
'I wouldn't dream of it,' she replied.
It was just as well he didn't see her go into town, for he would hardly have recognised the self-confident woman who marched from shop to shop. She knew exactly what she wanted all right, and it took a while to find it. But this time she had no husband to take her round by the arm and talk to the shop assistants on her behalf, as if she was incapable of doing it for herself.
'Can I help, madam?' The thin assistant looked over her glasses at Esther's present attire, her narrow eyes seemingly calculating to a penny what type of dress the client could afford, and assessing it wasn't going to be one from her shop.
'Madam would like to try on that black dress in the window,' she responded, with sarcasm.
The shop assistant's manner gradually altered, and what with the sale of two rather expensive little numbers and a pile of silky underwear, she made a reasonable bit of commission, all things considered.
Esther then went on to a jewellery shop to purchase some costume jewellery that was almost obscenely ostentatious. Luckily it was not as expensive as it looked, though she doubted Kevin would know the difference. She enjoyed shopping for herself, and realised how often she had simply shopped with Kevin in mind. How easily she had forgotten to be herself. She was beginning to look forward to Saturday night with the gleeful anticipation of a teenager.
Saturday evening she dressed quickly, and shrouded herself in the ankle-length, plain black evening cape she had always hated because she felt silly in it. She now realised what it was for.
'Essie, honey, that looks lovely,' Kevin said, gratification on his face. The cape had been a Christmas present from him, and she had never seemed even slightly interested in it. He thought it chic. Esther thought it covered a lot. She was glad he didn't look down, though, because it didn't cover her shoes, which were tiny and strappy and high-heeled: a dead give-away.
When they arrived at the hotel she kissed him on the cheek. 'Go on in and get me a gin, darling. I just have to go and powder my nose.'
'You don't want me to wait?' He was confused at her self-sufficiency. She normally hated walking into a room full of unknown people without an escort.
She gave him a gentle shove in the back, clutching her make-up bag beneath the cape. 'Go on in. I'm not sixteen. I can cope.'
'Well, if you're sure...'
The function room was large. Kevin liked it because it had a sort of old-English charm, he said. Esther knew the truth; the hotel was posh and expensive and he hoped to patronise it on his own salary one day.
As he entered he fixed a professional smile in place, and greeted his work colleagues and the dark-suited bankers with his almost upper crust disdain. Very soon he stood with a drink in his hand, engaged in serious conversation with a tall greying man with the eyes of a crocodile.
Suddenly the man's protuberant eyes popped even further. 'Oh my,' he said, dwelling heavily on each word. 'Oh my, oh my! Who is that woman?'
Kevin looked around, choked on his drink, spluttered and coughed. 'That's my wife!' he gasped in horror.
Esther was dressed in the shortest black cocktail dress he had ever seen, and wore extremely high heels, all of which accentuated the shapely outline of her long legs. Not only that, her newly shorn hair was sort of frizzed up, her face was exquisitely made-up, and her earrings nearly reached the expanse of unblemished white flesh of her shoulders.
She gave him a warm smile from across the room, and her hips seemed to gyrate as she walked towards him. 'Jesus,' he muttered, stunned to petrifaction.
The banker turned to him. 'She can still make you feel like that and you're married to her?'
Kevin stared at him, then back to his wife, then around at the other men. He saw lust in their eyes and they all pulled in their paunches slightly as she approached.
'Do you like my new dress, darling?' she asked huskily, draping herself around him.
'I - I expected there to be a bit more of it,' he managed to blurt.
The banker roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. 'I like you, fellow,' he said. 'You and your charming wife must sit with me.'
Kevin gave a little helpless shrug, suddenly feeling out of his depth. What the hell had happened to Esther? She was going to embarrass the hell out of him. What was she playing at?
But she didn't embarrass him. The banker, he soon realised, was an accomplished lecher, and Esther seemed to take it all in her stride. From the other side of the table he couldn't quite see but he was sure the man's hand dwelt under the table more often and for longer than was strictly necessary. And the banker's wife, whom he felt obliged to engage in conversation, was a dry and humourless woman who bored him silly by just agreeing with everything he said. To his further annoyance, across the table, Esther seemed to be encouraging the man, giggling at his jokes and sexual sallies.
When they began to mix after the dinner - softening the target, his boss called it - Esther hung faithfully to Kevin's arm. This not only kept him continually surrounded by a pack of drooling admirers intent on buying her next drink, but it also put him flush to the most prestigious of his guests, something he would normally have been ecstatic about. He knew this would be followed the next day by a taxing debriefing session - how much information had he wheedle out of his mark - but for the first time in his life, Kevin didn't wheedle much. He spent the evening in shock, and far from feeling like continually apologising patronisingly for his unworldly little wife, he found himself in the strange position of being jealous of all those men who craved introduction to her. Before the evening was out he found himself invited to a dinner evening with the Mansells, company directors who had always ignored him before. He knew it was her fault. Fault? He had been angling for such an honour for longer than he would admit, and she had achieved it. What he wasn't quite sure, was how or why, and most of all he didn't understand the anger that filled him at the thought of his wife behaving like a tart all evening. Even though he had to admit to himself, she was stunning. If he had not been married to her, she was the kind he sure as hell would have made a pass at.
As they drove home he kept giving her sidelong glances. 'Are you out of your mind?' he said finally. 'You could have made me the laughing stock of the bank.'
'I rather got the impression the men weren't laughing.'
'No,' he said darkly, holding her elbow possessively as she hobbled up to the front door on feet that obviously hurt. All night his cock had been doing somersaults, almost as if she were someone else's wife and he the lecher. And on the heels of his lust was the greatest feeling of jealousy he had ever experienced. It all added up to one great itch which needed servicing. And she was asking for it, he found himself thinking. Before he was quite aware of his own intentions, he had kicked the door shut behind them and slammed her up against the wall in the hall.
He couldn't get his trousers undone quick enough, and while he was still fumbling he was sucking mouthfuls of succulent breast which he thumbed easily from her indecent neckline. When he was free he rubbed shaky hands up under her dress, over the smooth expanse of her tights, and ripped. Then, wedging her up against the easy-clean wallpaper he lifted her onto his spearing erection with a great groan.
Esther gasped as she sank onto him. His sudden and unexpected attack sent massive shock waves through her. She closed her eyes and indulged in her secret fantasy. She was a housewife. This big, strong, beautiful man had just burst his way in through the door, ripped her clothes off, and was raping her in her own hall because she was so desirable he could not help himself. She groaned out loud.
'Fuck,' Kevin cursed, hearing this new sound. 'I've hurt you.'
'No, no,' she said urgently, sucking at his ear, and her voice was low and husky with the euphoria of sex. 'Don't stop. Ram me. Hard.'
He rammed. Having been rampant half the evening there was no way he could be gentle or hold back. It was all or nothing, and he was past stopping. All too soon he came, a painful explosion he could not have stopped had he wanted to.
Quickly he plummeted down to earth. 'Darling, I...'
She put a finger to his lips. 'Don't apologise.'
'But I...'
'I enjoyed it.'
He was taken aback. 'You did?'
She kissed his nose. 'I enjoyed the whole evening. It was fun. Thank you. Come and have a night-cap with me before we turn in.'
They sat in silent, contemplative companionship for a short while, and drank to the success of the evening. Then Esther went up to bed first, as she always did, while Kevin sat in confused solitude for a moment. The bankers had certainly gone away sounding positive about the deal, and he was not unaware of the part his wife had unwittingly played. High finance and sex, it seemed, were interwoven, and if one was good, so was the other. He hadn't felt that strongly stirred by Esther for an awfully long time. He vaguely recalled that sex had been more exiting when they were courting, and that after they married things got sort of routine. He had supposed that was just what happened.
This new sexual excitement stirred his loins and before he realised it was happening, his tired prick was valiantly rising again, leaving him feeling more confused than ever; even when courting, once an evening had been enough. He thought back. Esther hadn't been a virgin when he'd met her, but she had been acquiescent and accepting. Her subservient role had made him feel confident and protective, and therefore dominant. For a long time now sex had been a mutual and unspoken agreement, a hasty fumble of removed clothing in the dark, and a fairly rapid consummation after which they both fell asleep.
That was why it was so different with the other women. The secretaries, colleagues' wives. It wasn't the consummation that excited him so much as the chase. The sex, in the end, was much the same with any female and, no matter how much the women made come-hither eyes at him, he never went back to the same woman twice - apart from his wife. That was his particular brand o
f loyalty. For in his way, he was truly loyal. He had promised to love and cherish, and he did so. He'd often thought it wasn't fair that men had appetites a wife was incapable of fulfilling. Yet that dominatrix woman had an appetite the like of which he had never seen.
He gave a short laugh at his own musings; obviously because he wished it could be that way, that was all. He told himself to stop daydreaming and get back to reality.
He had believed for a long time that the elusive and explosive sexual experience of which couples often boasted was obviously a fabrication. The sort of women who made sensible wives had been designed to be the recipients for a man's seed, and that was all. After that they fulfilled their own emotional needs with the messy and annoying process of child-rearing, leaving the male partner space to get on with his time-consuming process of hunting for further conquests.
Yet the woman who kidnapped him had enjoyed an orgasm. And suddenly, out of the blue, so had Esther. Even during the exquisite experience with her in the hall, when he let himself down and turned into the original caveman, he had felt her orgasm. What was going on?
Confused, he crept into bed quietly next to his sleeping wife, bringing with him a newly-awakened need for her which wouldn't seem to go away. He wished Esther could now and again be like that other woman, tie him up and make him feel exquisitely helpless, then play with his prick, bring him to fruition with her hand. He felt guilty, as though this desire were a betrayal of his marriage vows, but he could not help himself. And as he lay there, his hips moving just slightly in recollection, he realised with irritation that he had a real snorter of a hard-on that wasn't simply going to go away because he was tired.
Esther moved, turned over.
He froze.
When, to his shock, he felt a hand slowly slide to his groin, it was hard to keep back the groan that crept to his lips. But it was only when her teeth gently began to nibble his arm did he realise she was awake and knew exactly what she was doing. Shock kept him rigid. Esther never instigated sex. Well, only inasmuch as she would go up to bed, coyly letting him know she would be waiting. But her hand was undeniably beginning to caress him, tightening his balls and sending juices dribbling onto his belly.