by Lilian Love
Eve’s Room
Part one: Adam & Eve
Copyright © 2012 by Lilian Love
All right reserved. Except as permitted under the US copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted by any form or by any means or stored on a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
♥
1.
He was charming, and all charming men believe they’ll become rich, until they turn thirty, realise they’re wrong, and lose all their charm. Luckily I met him before he turned thirty.
It was summer. The sun shone in through my window and I woke to the sound of birds singing on the rooftop. It was like I fell asleep in my room and woke up in a Monet painting. Even my pastel blue walls looked like they’d been gently brushed with meaning in the night. I checked my watch. Almost midday. Who cares, it was the holidays. I kicked off my sheets and showered, leaving the bathroom door open so I could see the view from my window (I lived on the top floor of an old stone house on the edge of town, beyond the house were endless fields and woodlands. I’d occasionally stroll out there with a book of poetry or novel I was studying for class to read under the shade of an oak tree. Yes I’m pretentious, but who hasn’t been since Freud invented the ego?). While drying myself with a SpongeBob towel (I have no idea how or why it appeared in my cupboard) I poured a glass of water over the herbs on my windowsill before slipping into my favourite summer dress; a £2 fashion miracle from a charity shop in France.
The fridge was empty except for a half carton of Tropicana, a lemon and a lime. I’d been starving myself for nearly three days on the citrus detox (a squeeze of lemon or lime juice in a glass of water five times a day, nothing else) and found it curious that the hungrier I grew, the more the men I fantasised about became ambassadors of indulgence; pastry chefs, chocolatiers, French bakers, even a McDonald’s worker. My stomach was groaning and I had to fix my subconscious with a decent breakfast.
I slipped on some sandals and skipped downstairs. I bade good morning to Mrs Henley and her little scottie dog Daisy (Mrs Henley, who didn't have a first name as far as I could tell, lived below me. She was a lovely old lady who would always leave a jar of jam on my doorstep whenever she made some).
The air outside was dry and the sun was hot on my shoulders. The town was already busy; girls and gentlemen (there are no men in my town, just gentlemen— they’re like men but with better fashion sense and impeccable manners) cycled by, chatting merrily to one another as baguettes rattled around in the baskets on the front of their bikes. I strolled along the cobbled street lined with bushy oaks and followed a stray cat through the ancient archway, past the abbey, and into the graveyard. It chased a butterfly, then gave up and rubbed itself fondly against the base of an old tombstone before curling up in the shade.
2.
The café— Annabel’s— was on the oldest street in town. My best friend Alice worked there. And she made the best coffee in the world. Annabel’s was small and cosy with vases of fresh wild flowers on each table. As usual the cafe was filled with the scent of warm bread and coffee and an orchestra was playing quietly on a retro radio on the end of the counter. I was the only person inside; everyone else was sitting at the pavement tables enjoying the sun. When I entered, Alice was scribbling something down in a notepad, but the moment she sensed my presence she looked up, dropped her pen, ran around the counter and hugged me excitedly. I swiftly pulled her over to a corner table.
‘What happened last night, tell me everything’ I asked eagerly
'We met, we fucked, I left' she replied, eyes darting around to make sure nobody could hear. She was always beautifully blunt about matters of the heart.
‘Will you see him again? Did you leave your number?’ I asked
‘You know I only leave my number as a tip for guys who make me cum. He didn't deserve a tip.’
‘Does he know where you work? What if he walks past and sees you and comes in?’
‘I'll use my classic excuse; my auntie’s cousin’s step son’s best friend’s neighbour’s cat died’
‘You must drive these guys mad’ I said, amazed
‘Yeah, give me a sane man and I'll cure him for you. Black coffee?’
‘Latte’
‘Latte?’ she raised her eyebrows in surprise ‘What about the detox? Don't you have some sachets of powdered glamour you stir into a glass of water or something?’
‘Sachets of cyanide, free in this week’s Vogue. Can I have my latte with full fat milk please?’
‘Nothing tastes a good as skinny feels’ she said, raising her eyebrows in pretend warning
‘Except croissants. I'll have two, as well as the latte’ I grabbed the Times from the next table and scanned the headlines.
She leant forward, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then strutted off to bash about loudly on the coffee machine.
I was absorbed in an article about the success of Fifty Shades of Grey when Alice returned with the latte— a love heart on its smooth creamy surface— and two croissants on a plate with butter and jam. One of the croissants had a bite out the end. I glanced up and saw Alice chewing mischievously.
‘Help yourself’ I said, hitting her playfully in the side.
'Have you read that?' she asked, prodding the article
'Of course not, if my professors caught me reading it they'd throw me down a fucking well and pour burning oil over me.'
'Who was your professor who came in here last time?’
'Professor Jonas? The young Swedish one with the thick rimmed glasses? He's fuckable, yet married'
'Since when did that matter? I’d still fuck him. I haven’t fucked an intellectual in… Christ, have I ever fucked an intellectual?’
'There was that shy one you met at the gallery opening’
‘Oh yeah, Tim the sculptor. The after-sex pillow talk was deep, I miss that. I remember him asking me what I think happens after I die as he peeled the condom off. Intellectuals always talk about death. He was too scared to show me his art though. Never a good sign.’
We paused in thought, the orchestra on the radio reached a crescendo, then the café door swung open and in walked one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen in my life. He was tall and broad shouldered with neat blonde hair and a golden tan. He wore blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons popped open showing a glimpse of chest. A silver chain around his neck glinted in the light. His shirt was just tight enough to see the definition of the muscles beneath. He frowned as his eyes adjusted from the brightness of the street to the dimness of the café. Alice and I followed him with our gaze as he slinked between the tables and came to a halt at the counter. I slapped Alice on the shoulder, breaking the spell. She got up, hurried over and served him, her voice a little higher than normal. I took a bite of soft croissant and a sip of hot coffee and tried and focus on the newspaper, but Alice kept giggling, and there's nothing more distracting than hearing your best friend giggle with a man you want to be making you giggle. I glanced over, she was fluttering her eyelashes and handing him a free sample of brownie with a pair of tongs. He took the brownie, popped it in his mouth, nodded his head appreciatively and said something that made Alice giggle again. Then he turned and peered around the café. All the other tables were free, yet his gaze fell on the empty chairs around me. I quickly looked down at the Times as he strolled towards me.
‘Too many people eat alone these days. Mind if I join you?' he said self assuredly.
'Oh… please, be my guest.' I feebly reshuffled the newspaper to make room for him. He retrieved his orange juice from the counter and sat down beside me, a wave of expensive cologne filling the air. Confidence is the sexiest thing a man can have... I’d heard that quote somewhere, and suddenly found myself agreeing with it wholeheartedly.
‘Are you reading that?’ He asked, patting the newspaper
'Fifty Shades of Grey? Or The Times?’
He squinted at the article where there was a picture of the book cover
'Fifty Shades... haven’t heard of it’
‘Seriously? Everyone’s reading it. It’s about the sex life of a student and a billionaire’
‘Like, Rupert Murdoch and a marketing undergrad from Sheffield?’
‘No, the billionaire in the book is like, twenty seven’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ he said with a smirk.
‘Exactly why I’m not reading it’
‘Do you ever read the obituaries section in the paper?’ He asked, leafing through the Times to the obituaries ‘they're accidentally inspiring, make me glad to be alive. When I read them, I imagine my own obituary, and it makes me want to do outrageous things so it’ll be a better read. If you were in here, what would it say? Were it well written, of course' he fixed me with an intense gaze. His eyes were deep blue with a rim of fiery gold around the pupil. He was so fucking attractive. But my obituary…
'Let me think… perhaps something like this; Eve St Clair, died today while flying too close to the sun. The wax in her homemade wings melted and she plummeted to her death in the English Channel. A once promising English student, she was driven insane with lust after reading Fifty Shades of Grey and mistook the sun for her soul mate.'
'Very good, very good indeed' he grinned ‘Eve St Clair huh, that's a beautiful name. I'm Adam’
'Adam and Eve' I smiled
‘What a coincidence!’ his eyes widened with surprise ‘do you study the bible in your English class?'
'No but perhaps next year it'll come up in my historical fiction paper’
‘Ah, so you’re an atheist?’ he chuckled
‘I believe in evolution, so yes’
‘My theory of evolution is that Darwin was adopted’ he said quickly 'for an atheist you have the most angelic face Eve. You’re really very beautiful.’
I blushed and glanced over at Alice. She was stuck behind the counter, wiping down the surfaces and pretending not to listen. The radio had gone very quiet.
‘So you study English’ he said curiously ‘you know my uncle is a professor of English? Professor Jonas’
Alice knocked something over and it smashed. I jumped with fright, and Adam got halfway out his chair before Alice waved him down, saying everything was fine in a flustered voice as she scrabbled for a dustpan and brush.
‘Actually I had Professor Jonas for a poetry course last year. He’s an astute teacher, very clear and confidant’
‘So what’s your favourite poem?’ Adam asked, leaning his chin on his fist
‘It has to be The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, please tell me you’ve heard of it...’
‘In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo’ he said, quoting a line from the poem ‘is it that one?’ he frowned unsurely.
‘Yes!’ my heart swelled. Confidence is the sexiest thing a man can have, except an appreciation of good poetry. Adam was the first man I’d met since Professor Jonas who had both. ‘Let me force the moment to its crises, and ask you what your plans are for this afternoon?’ I asked.
‘I have some things to do’ he casually replied ‘but those things can wait’
‘I have some poetry books at my place, would you like…’
‘I’d love to’ he said, cutting me off with a wicked grin.
I wish I could’ve got a picture of Alice’s face as I left the café with Adam. I gave her a wink from the door and she shook her head in disbelief. She’d expect me back again first thing in the morning to tell her the exact details of what was about to happen.
3.
On the way back to my house we passed an apple tree, some of its branches hung over an old wall.
'Look it's the tree of knowledge, all we need now is a snake and this is literally the book of Genesis!' I said in genuine astonishment
‘Let’s eat one’ he said eagerly.
This is when we first made physical contact. He touched the bare skin of my forearm and offered to give me a help up. The moment he touched me I felt every cell in my body wake up. He smiled encouragingly before kneeling down so I could use his clasped hands as a stirrup to reach up for the apples.
‘Don’t look up my dress’ I said playfully before he hoisted me into the air.
After an awkward rummage through the leaves I plucked the rosiest apple I could find then dropped down to the pavement and buffed it on my dress until it gleamed.
‘I had a friend who worked in sales’ said Adam, gazing up at the tree nostalgically ‘he used to read Genesis for inspiration before leaving his house in the morning. He thought the snake was the greatest salesman ever. After all, Adam and Eve weren’t interested in that apple until the snake pitched it to them.’
‘You know it doesn’t actually say it was an apple in the bible. Milton invented that detail in Paradise Lost. Your uncle taught me that fact’
‘My uncle’s a smart man!’
I took a bite and passed the apple to him. He took a bite too. When he swallowed, I stood on my toes and kissed him. His lips were sweet with apple juice. That kiss jolted me profoundly, like a seismic shift had occurred deep inside my body. Sexual electricity sparked between us, I gasped as my breath hitched in my throat. We had to find a bed immediately. I grabbed his hand and we ran laughing with giddy excitement back to my house, in the front door and up the stairs. Thankfully Mrs Henley’s door was shut.
My flat was silent except for our heavy breathing. He grabbed me and spun me round and stared into my eyes, gripping my shoulders. His gaze was intense. His breathing changed, it became shallower. I grinned and shrugged him off. He followed me, his hands around my waist, smelling my hair, his nose nuzzling into my neck, as I went to my bookshelf for a copy of The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock. As I reached out to pick it up, he picked me up, carried me across the room and lowered me gently onto my back on the bed. He leant over me, his beautiful face an inch away from mine, and gazed into my eyes. Despite his size and build there was a saintly softness about him, like he'd just been sunbathing in heaven. I lifted my head and planted a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed me back, hard, then kissed my neck, down my collarbone and back up again, around the side of my face, and back to my lips. He discovered a red lipstick on my bedside table. He pulled the lid off
‘Pout’ he ordered, kneeling over me.
I puckered up and he ran the cool sticky lipstick over my lips, coating them neatly. I smacked them together then pulled him forward and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a print of my lips. The bulge in his jeans was now obvious.
I smiled as he lifted my dress over my head and tossed it casually aside. I was briefly left in nothing but my panties, but he swiftly pulled those off too and started kissing up the sensitive inside of my thighs. I lay back on the bed and let him do whatever he wanted. I was his. Warm waves of pleasure were radiating through me from between my legs. Every kiss he planted on my inner thighs tingled warmly. He kiss his way up between my legs and started gently using his tongue on my clit. He slipped one finger inside me and kept kissing and licking me, circling my clit slowly and firmly with the tip of his tongue. I wound the edge of my blankets tightly around my finger and pressed my head back into the pillow as my body writhed. He had to pin my hips down as I kept jerking my pelvis up in reaction to the hot sensations he was sending through my body. He was going to make me cum. I couldn’t take any more, I was delirious, I reached out and grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him towards me. He took my hands off his head, held them tightly in his, and le
ant forward for a long lingering kiss, then gently rose from the bed and undressed in front of me. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a six pack, toned chest and lean torso. He had on a silver chain with the locket resting between his firm pecs. He must’ve been a rower or a swimmer with a physique like that. Keeping his eyes on me, he removed his necklace and placed it over my head. The thin chain was warm from his skin, and the silver locket nestled cosily between my breasts.
‘What’s inside?’ I asked, tapping the locket with a hazy curiosity.
‘Nothing…’ he said solemnly
‘Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to...’
‘Don’t worry about it’ he said, kissing me strongly.
He undid his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor so he was left in his boxers, his erection pressing hard against the front. He pulled down his boxers and his dick sprang free- it was big and perfectly shaped. I crawled across the bed and knelt in front of him and gently wrapped my hand around it. It was so hard, yet the skin was so soft and smooth. As I started to stroke it, he rolled his head back and let out a deep, pleasured sigh. I wrapped my lips around it and started to suck, using my tongue to lick in quick circles under his foreskin. His dick was big enough to fit in my whole mouth and still have a hand wrapped around the base. He was moaning now. I tickled his soft balls with my other hand and pushed him deeper into my mouth until he was clogging my throat, then I pushed deeper still, so almost his entire dick was inside me. He groaned, his hands clasping either side of my head. I glanced up at him, he was in blissful agony, his beautiful eyes filled with pleasure pain. I didn’t want him cumming yet so I parted my lips and he reluctantly pulled his dick out.
'Where are your condoms?' He whispered desperately.
I grabbed a foil packet from my bedside drawer and passed it to him. He tore it open and turned away as he slid it on. Then he turned and pounced on me, suddenly he was right over me, his elbows either side of my head, his face just in front of mine. We kissed passionately, then I opened my legs and let him enter me. He slowly slid his whole dick into me, right up to the hilt. I moaned as a wave of satisfying tingles spread out from between my legs over my body right down to the tips of my fingers and toes. I couldn’t believe he'd fitted inside me. He rose up on his arms and gazed right into my eyes as he started flexing his hips. The second wave of pleasure— more intense and intoxicating than before— flooded over me. Still thrusting into me, he put the weight of his body on one arm and started plucking my nipples with his free hand. His stomach muscles tensed and released with every thrust. The pleasure was almost unbearable. I was moaning, writhing with him, grabbing at his back. I closed my eyes and enchanted shapes formed, melted and reformed inside my head. I was completely lost sensation.