Once she was tied he slipped a sleep mask over her eyes. She wanted to see him but this at least removed any final inhibitions, so once her lace knickers came off she was able to let her thighs fall apart for him. As he kissed his way down her body she was fizzing with excitement and with a smile spread across her face, knowing that this was already every bit as good as she had imagined it. He took his time, and so when he finally came back up to kiss her on the lips and let her taste her own bliss, she’d experienced her first ever climax whilst being tied; something new and secret to treasure and remember.
He kept her bound for just a little while longer, turning her to her side to spoon her, entering her for the first time this way. She felt hot as hell inside and he even gasped as he pushed slowly forward and slid into her. Apart from that he was almost silent, but then no words were needed here. She liked it best that way. He just stayed pressed to her, kissing her neck and face, his hand stroking her hip or over her breasts, her belly, or down between her thighs. Then she was on her front with him upon her, his breath at her ear. This time he did begin to move in and out of her, a slow action that was more about pressing into her than driving back and forth. His hands came up to hers and held them. At some point, while he was grinding against her behind and filling her, he untied her wrists and let her free. The mask was kept in place, there for as long as she wanted it on.
Her second climax came when he was on his back and she was riding him - not when she was facing him, although she had enjoyed the thrill of being watched for once, the blindfold stripping her of her modesty - but when he manoeuvred her to face the other way, a position new to her. She had allowed herself to really let go, to concentrate only on the lovely hardness within her and to not care about how she looked or sounded. Her mask only came off when she was facing him again, sat upon his lap with him as deep as ever. She couldn’t stop smiling - it was difficult to purse her lips for long enough to kiss him.
He finished inside her when she was on all fours, and she felt dirty and sexy and gorgeous in laying herself open for him like this. It was a fitting finale to the most thrilling time of her life. There weren’t many words after, but fatigue and contentment were washing over her. It was nice to just lie there in spoons, eyes closed, feeling the warm solidity of him, basking in the glow. Just for that time, he belonged to her. In the end it was she who had to go, a sudden dash to pick up the kids, the reality of normal life clattering back to mind. There was barely time to kiss him goodbye, to thank him and then to ramble on about how inappropriate it was to thank anyone for sex, all the time watching his smile spread. She didn’t know if this was it: the one and only time. It should have been. She should have been content, glad that it was better than she’d hoped and not a pitiful mess to rue endlessly. But humans are a greedy species and they seldom know when to stop.
I Spy
So what the fuck-a-doodle-doo was that sly cow Nesta doing coming out of Hunter’s house? Were those furtive glances she was giving in the direction of the other houses? And what was that big smile all about now she thought she was safe? Eva almost decided to go out there and confront her neighbour, but she could only imagine it leading to her taking off her jacket and laying into the sneaky redhead. That wouldn’t go down well. Not with Hunter, who irrationally thought Nesta to be some kind of muse of humour, or something - someone to hold dear.
Straws were mounting up on the donkey’s back and this might well be the final one. Worst still, this was the first Monday Eva had been off for ages and it was only coincidence that she had gone into her kitchen for a mug of tea at that particular moment. Who knew how often these visits had gone on? If she hadn’t taken leave that week to help finish her book she might never have seen this. The jealousy billowed, heading towards rage. She almost spat into the sink. You know, here she was cutting her sexual rations down to almost nil: just the two husbands very occasionally, plus the pink-haired girlfriend of course, and maybe a random girl here and there - all of it for him - and that sneaky ginger bitch was trying to get in there before she did! It wasn’t going to wash, no way. It really was the most hu-fucking-mungous liberty!
She had been on a roll as well. The writing had really been flowing. Just that one sighting had made her dry up. She had been right in the groove and she needed to be because she was up against it. Things had gone even quicker than she’d hoped. She’d put feelers out there based on the success of her current novel and not one but two publishers had bitten. Add those to the one she was currently with and she had herself the makings of a fight to get her signature, just as she’d envisaged. Figures to tempt had already been bandied about and they were large ones. The trouble was, the new novel had only been little more than a detailed synopsis back then, so she needed to produce a nicely fleshed-out first draft to please the would-be money-givers. Then, once the deal was done, she could relax and produce the final draft in good time. She had promised the first draft by the end of the week. Not being absolutely sure of the reaction to this was the only thing stopping her from marching down to Hunter’s right now and laying down the law.
It would have to be coercion: blackmail, essentially. That was a sobering thought. A girl with her looks shouldn’t need to employ such tactics. He had moved in as the last summer was fading. Now a new one was nearly upon them. She had spoken to him that first day he came, made him aware of her. In all that time, despite her thinking something between them was inevitable, now that she wanted to force his hand she was no closer to her goal than after that first meeting. There was no time-line of their growing relationship. For most would-be lovers it was about eyes meeting across a crowded room. It was all coy smiles and batted eyelashes; wining and dining; thrilling late night phone chats; roses delivered to your door. It was a build to a moment when bed was the obvious next step. It struck her that she had never known romance in all her life. For her it had always been about a spur of the moment choosing, of seeing someone she liked and assenting to let them adore her. That was just plain sad.
So, with him, there was no place to pick up from, no suggestion made to agree to, no understanding. Nesta, the bitch, would have such things. Just going round for an innocent afternoon visit would have spurned some looks, some innuendo. It was inevitable between two attractive people. From these little signs big things soon grew, until suddenly Nesta would find herself on all fours, her hair being pulled back as the man of every girl’s dreams spanked and fucked her beautifully. The point was, without such groundwork, you were effectively cold-calling on the sex front. It would have to mushroom out of nowhere. It was feasible with someone you had just met but when you had known someone for months and still nothing had developed between you, it was, in fact, distinctly un-inevitable that anything then would.
She slapped her fingers down hard on the keyboard and pushed back from her desk. It was pointless trying to force it when her head was full of other things. The words wouldn’t come so fuck it. Fuck the book and fuck everything. Imagine going through life without ever being swept off your feet - someone as good-looking as her, as creative and as free-spirited. She deserved such pleasures, didn’t she? Not by anyone either, but by the very best. Imagine not a single romantic adventure to pound the heart, to look back upon and cherish. Imagine missing out on the seat-of-the-pants, breath-stopping thrill of him. It couldn’t happen. It was against all known laws of fairness. How the hell, after nearly a year of knowing him, was she not able to simply go down there and give him that one whispered sentence, that single look, to spark the pent-up release of passion between them?
As ever it was a form of anger that drove her to act, just like that seething desire for power over the husbands she seduced. She went there feeling slighted and confrontational, marching down in the light of the early evening, not caring who saw her, actually hoping that everyone would. The jealousy would stop her being smooth or charming. It would be about stinging him into action. Since the indignation that made her spring from
her chair and head for the front door still gripped her, it would be that which formed her plan of action. She wasn’t feeling subtle. Just knowing he’d spent the day with Nesta schmoozing all over him was enough to stop her wanting to do the same. There was more than one way to skin a cat.
She was going to ring the doorbell but then chose the letterbox instead, knowing the clatter would be more audible around the street and might attract more witnesses. He’d want to get her inside, quick sharp. He took time to answer but she knew he was there. She even sensed he was there behind the door, checking her out through the spy-hole, wondering if he might successfully pretend to be out. That just got her insides scrunching even more. She rapped at the letterbox again and while the noise was still echoing around the houses he had opened the door.
‘Eva,’ he said by way of greeting, looking cautious or possibly even mildly annoyed. She managed a big smile but knew vehemence would drive her tongue until she got everything off her chest. He would see the fire in her eyes.
‘I’m looking for advice, actually,’ she said, launching straight in, her voice more strident than she wanted. ‘I bet you didn’t know I was rather a successful writer of erotic novels, but then you have never taken any trouble to find out anything about me. Well, it’s true, and I’m about to become a household name. I’m writing the book that puts all others of the genre in the shade.’
She paused to give him time to react but his face hadn’t changed. There was no smile, maybe even a look of disinterest. He was just stood there with arms folded, seemingly not even about to invite her in, the fucking bastard.
‘That’s great news,’ he eventually said, but only because he was obliged to fill the silence.
‘Yes, well, as I’m going to be rich and famous I thought I needed to cultivate some kind of image, which is where you come in. I was wondering, would it be better to be seen as sophisticated but secretive - you know, all moody black and white photos; a beauty to covet? One who knew exactly what she was writing about because her lover happened to be the most gorgeous, charming, older man? Or should I be a known as a garish minx, a man-eater, a seducer of husbands?’ She flashed another naughty smile and waited for a response but he remained largely unmoved, frowning and shaking his head a little, as if only barely grasping her insinuation. She pressed on. ‘Of course, images are only borne out by reality. There are bound to be articles in the press. If I was the secretive sophisticate then I could give little or nothing away, but if I were the garish minx then all the juicy details would have to be known: names, places, that sort of thing. It could be messy but it would certainly spark the most publicity and, as they say, all publicity is good publicity, is it not?’
There it was, unsubtly put on a plate for him to digest. He stayed quiet, chewing gently on his bottom lip, looking straight at her, the frown still very evident. She knew the penny had dropped.
‘Why would you want to give names?’ he said, eyes narrowing.
‘I wouldn’t, but you know what the press are like - how persistent, how much they tempt with financial rewards. And if I’m going for that image, I’d have to go the whole hog. If I’d not done the whole street they’d wonder why. So I might have to see about that neighbour of yours after all.’ She turned towards Number Eight and raised her voice as she said it, hoping to finally make him drag her inside to shut her up. The thought of bedding the big-footed nerd wasn’t actually that appealing right now but it was simply a case of bringing all her guns to bear. Hunter didn’t move, although she saw him quickly scan the street for signs of eavesdroppers. Invite me in, you delicious bastard, she thought, and let’s get this contract sealed between us.
‘Of course,’ she continued, ‘if I had my gorgeous older man, then I could be happy with him. He would know that I’ve given up all others while I’ve been waiting for him. He would soon realise that the two of us are exactly suited. We would make fabulous lovers. We would have no ties, no kids. We would only ever have great times - bike trips and other wild adventures. We would be rich and comfortable together. He would paint, I would write, and we would live in perfect harmony for as long as we wanted.’
‘What, amongst these people and all those secrets?’
‘Why not? It would remind him of how much better they were together than apart.’
‘And what if this older man couldn’t see the light?’
He was holding out, even now. Did he want her to beg? He was stood there in the doorway, arms folded, showing no sign of letting her in. He must be able to see reason. She had even managed to convince herself, having spoken her vision out loud. Once he was with her she would make him see. She would find out what made him tick, just like she always did. He would think her the best lover he had ever had, one to never let go. She could spend a couple of years with him, or even more if she didn’t get bored, flaunting him and her new success, revelling in the neighbour’s bitter envy. The two of them would live a life of riches, thrills and dirty fabulous fucking. There was no down side whatsoever, so why hadn’t he yet given in to her? She felt jittery having smelled triumph so close. There was an itching wet heat between her thighs crying out for attention, brought on by a combination of anticipation and the power trip from having him so far over a barrel. Yet still he would not yield, always wanting to be the master. Well, he could win this battle but he must have known the war was over, and now was no time to show mercy.
‘Look, Hunter, it’s simple: I’m going to submit my novel this week. After that the ball is going to be rolling and I might have little control over it. If you want to have any input into what kind of media image I’m to use, you just let me know. If not, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Personally the image of home-wrecking minx sounds pretty good fun to me, but maybe that’s because I’m getting a little frustrated waiting for you. I’m feeling a little under-appreciated right now. Still, I might easily be persuaded that a life of secrecy is much better, when spent with the right person. Incidentally, talking of secrets, I saw Nesta coming out of here this afternoon. She’s a nice girl, isn’t she? I really like her. It would be terrible if anyone was to find out she was married to such a dirty, cheating pervert, don’t you think? So, you think on that and then come see me at the weekend. You could wish me luck with my book.’
She managed a parting smile but stopped herself short of blowing a patronising kiss. She tried to depart with as much gusto as she could, holding her head high and her breath in, until finally she heard the door shut behind her. She was shaking - part nerves, part anger, part frustration. There was no going back. It was blackmail pure and simple, but hopefully he would see that it was a good kind of blackmail. It was nothing they couldn’t immediately joke about, once they were together. He could give her a rough, really dirty first fucking to reassert himself, and then they would be friends again, the closest of the close. He should see sense because he had everything to gain from it. If not, then she had no other option than to go through with her threat. Her ego would stand no less.
A part of her was not convinced she had done enough, and this filled her with spite and nastiness. If she couldn’t have him then no one could - certainly no redheaded bitches who had also refused her. He better play ball or she would blow the whole thing apart, shatter the happy family charade. She would bag the nerd at Number Eight just in time to light the fuse and let it blow, so no one was left unscathed. In fact, she would do it anyway, this Friday, whilst the girls were all out, just as a pre-emptive measure. It was no skin off her nose now.
It would be fun watching it all go up, remaining untouchable through it all; rich, successful and feted, scared of none of them. She could leave them behind whenever she wanted and all they would have left is the chance to sell their miserable stories, thus doing her publicity for her. It would only make her stronger. As for Hunter, he could watch and know he could have stopped it. Let him live with that. It was up to him now, and she was only prepared to give
him until the week was up. She wanted him above anyone, ever. It didn’t matter that it would be a relationship built on nothing. All that sentimentality nonsense could come after, if necessary.
Seriously, he had better do the right thing because she was more than ready to start smashing things up now. She was fifteen years his junior, funnier than Ginger Bitch, better-looking even than Roni and with an indisputably better arse, way sexier than Maria. She was far more entertaining and interesting than all of them put together. What the hell could he want more than her? They were just personality-free, visionless nobodies, with nothing going on in their lives but children or work or both. What did they offer? Even their husbands were bored of them, the people supposed to love them above all! If he didn’t give in then she would set it all alight and walk away with her middle finger held high. There might be other Hunters wherever she ended up. She would forget him but no one would ever forget her. No neighbourhood would ever have seen the like of her. It would be the start of her legend.
She pulled her phone out of her jeans and rang the pink-haired girlfriend.
‘Get your clothes off, have a shower and get that sweet backside of yours covered in baby oil,’ she said. ‘I’m coming to get you, and it’s going to hurt.’
Knowing
It took about ten minutes of conversation and then Roni saw it, as plain as day. Hunter was often popped into conversations at some point. All of them seemed incapable of not mentioning him whenever possible. Today though, with just the two of them, Nesta was going on about him even more than normal. There was a sparkle in her eyes too. It was a subtle change to other times. Others, who didn’t know her so well, might not have spotted it. Before, it had all been about fanciful imaginings. This, however, was about joyous recollection, of looking back on one’s memories, of having something concrete and wonderful and real to draw upon. There had been intimacy between her best friend and the newest neighbour; that was the only possible conclusion.
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