Objects of Desire

  He felt her push against him as he thrust into her. He liked her hunger for more of him. All the while he was moving the knob of his penis in and out of Anoushka. Her sighs of pleasure inflamed him. ‘Deeper, I want more of you, all of you inside me. Please, now, I’m so ready!’

  Reaching round her, he filled his hands with her breasts, now so sensitive to touch that she pulled back into him as if she had been scorched. He withdrew abruptly, turned her round and took her in his arms. His lips devoured a nipple and all its dark and sultry nimbus now puckered with passion, while he swept her up into his arms. There were tears of uncontrolled passion, frustration, pent-up sexual hunger in her eyes.

  ‘Everything. I’ll give you everything sexual you hunger for. We’ll take our time, get lost in the sexual depravity we crave. For us, tonight, there’ll be enough come to get drunk on, sexual bliss beyond measure.’ He smiled at her and demanded, ‘Now tell me you’re happy, that I know what we want?’

  She placed her arms round his neck and rested her head on his shoulder but remained silent. He smiled, understanding her inability to tell him how she felt. ‘That’ll do as a yes and “I’m happy”,’ he answered for her.

  Anoushka lay down on the bed. She held her hands out to Hadon and he took them in his and lay down next to her. He pulled her high against the pillows, adjusted them behind her head and shoulders and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. He took a nipple in his mouth. She squirmed. He had her raw, so sensitive to his every touch. Now he placed himself on his knees between her legs. He raised one and removed her shoe, kissed her ankle and dropped the shoe on the carpet. He ran his hand up and down her other silken-clad leg, and again dropped a shoe on to the carpet. Bending her legs at the knee, he placed her feet flat on the bed and pushed her legs wide apart. Naked except for stockings, she was even more sexy than merely naked; more whorish, more exciting.

  Her most private self totally exposed, cunt ready and waiting for him, Anoushka was filled with a sense of joy, as she always was when she could be that way for a man. It had always been like that for her from the very first time she had experienced sexual intercourse. She handed Hadon a pillow and he placed it beneath her bottom, then another. It was as if she could not show enough of herself to him, and wanted to be in a position to receive the deepest penetration during fucking.

  He placed his face between her legs and it was she who held back the outer labia of her cunt, she who showed herself pink and open and yearning for his lips. She felt his tongue, his teeth, nibbling at this most sensitive, tender place. Such exquisite caresses. Fingers tormented her with pleasure, put her on the edge. Desire released in a series of brief, gentle orgasms. Her come covered his fingers.

  He liked playing this sex game with her. For Hadon foreplay was delicious, but only as a first course to whet the appetite for more. He was on the verge of turning from such gentle lovemaking to the two playmates, lust and debauchery, who would take him over. Anoushka, a willing stranger, and one he would never have sex with again, was an extra bonus. Her openness doubled his excitement, added a frisson to uncomplicated sex. The only kind of sex Hadon ever practised.

  Withdrawing his lips was to release her, and sitting back on his haunches he viewed his willing prey before slipping on to his side next to her. Hadon took Anoushka in his arms and kissed her. A kiss of adoration? One of respect for lust unbound, the sexual freedom she possessed? She thought so, sufficiently to trust him to take her down the erotic path she yearned to travel with him. There would be no harm. Pure bliss would be there for her, a different kind of rainbow, the ultimate pot of gold.

  Before Anoushka slid down off the pillows and on top of him, slithered snake-like down his body, leaving a trail of sensuous kisses, culminating in one on the knob of his penis, and sucked him into her mouth, they already knew this was to be a sexual odyssey to remember but never to repeat. It was too perfect: the intensity of their desire for each other and where they wanted to go with it, the time and the place. A moment in each of their histories. Anoushka intended to make the most of it.

  ‘I’ll always remember you for this night,’ she told him. And he stroked the top of her head as she took his rampant phallus further into her mouth.

  Only a woman as experienced, as appreciative of oral sex as Anoushka, could take a man of such exquisitely large proportions whole, suck him so passionately deep into her throat. The sensational sucking rhythm as she fondled his scrotum lovingly in her cupped hands gave Hadon sexual pleasure so intense he lost himself in her. He gripped her head between his hands, pulled at her hair during those moments when he had to fight hard not to come, once, twice, several more times before he eased himself still throbbing with desire for orgasm from her. He was her object of desire as much as she was his.

  Once more he pulled her up and arranged her against the pillows. ‘Don’t move. Wait here, just like this,’ he ordered, and slipped off the bed and left the room. Anoushka’s heart was still racing, her mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of tasting his come, of having this virile sexy man’s sperm filling every orifice of her body. She closed her eyes and tried to calm the sexual fires raging within. But her imagination had taken flight and would not settle: the sweet and salty taste of come, a strong and copious orgasm flowing over her lips, her cunt wet with the mingling of both their orgasms, those moments when they would ride out on the wings of eternity into oblivion as they came together.

  Hadon returned to the side of the bed. She looked incredibly raunchy: sexual hunger raging in her eyes, her arm across her breast, her hand in her mouth. She was biting into the loose skin on the top of her hand, the soft flesh between her thumb and forefinger. She was holding her breath. He watched her body go taut. Anoushka came, and came again, and closed her eyes. Release, glorious release. Her body relaxed and went limp. It was all there in her face, that exquisite look of sexual ecstasy. He waited, choosing to remain silent so as not to divert her pleasure, nor his, for being there to watch it. Her eyelashes fluttered and, quite lazily, she opened her eyes, removed her hand from her mouth. A deep sigh, and a languid smile for him crossed her lips.

  Hadon had two plates heaped with thick slices of melting Baked Alaska on them. He spoke to her. ‘That looked as if it was very nice.’

  ‘Very nice indeed,’ she told him with no embarrassment for having come without him, or for him having seen her in the most intimate of moments.

  ‘They’ll get even better,’ he promised.

  ‘Oh, I know that. More intense. And they’ll last longer, because you’ll be there.’

  He leaned forward to kiss her, liking her very much for being so honest. He wondered as he handed her one of the plates and sat down next to her how long it had been since she had been as sexually honest with herself as she was with him? He spoonfed her from his own mound of melting ice cream and meringue.

  ‘This is wickedly good,’ she told him with a smile.

  ‘I always hate the pretension and performance of a great pudding, especially Cherries Jubilee and Baked Alaska, but my taste buds don’t,’ he admitted.

  ‘That’s me too. I hate the pretension of all the best things in life,’ she told him.

  Something as casual as two people sitting on a bed eating ice cream did nothing to dampen the ardour these two naked people had for each other. Hadon sitting cross-legged was still maintaining a massive, erect penis and Anoushka, reclining against the pillows, erect nipples surrounded by dark nimbuses of sexual excitement. Sexual tension was building, still building for them as they fed the confection from their plates to each other.

  Hadon handed his empty plate to Anoushka and walked back into the dining room only to return bearing the silver platter with the remainder of the Baked Alaska. He picked up a pillow that had fallen on the floor and placed it on the bed between them and the platter on it. He broke off pieces of the meringue and ate it, feeding chunks of it to Anoushka. She ate them from his hand and licked and sucked his fingers into her mouth, seductively, one at a ti
me. Playing with him, she would occasionally give his throbbing penis a long, wet and sensuous lick, trailing rivulets of vanilla ice cream over it. Her warm tongue, the cold ice cream … an irresistible tease and taunt. He retaliated by rubbing the back of the silver spoon between her cunt lips. Sexual game playing? She was good at that, seductive as hell with it. So could he be, but he had had enough. He no longer wanted to play with her but to fuck her.

  The mound of melting ice cream was all that remained on the platter. Anoushka scooped some on to her fingers and placed it on her dark nimbuses and nipples. The cold made her squirm and she laughed. Hadon watched it trickle over her bosom and lowered his head, enabling him to lick the trickling cream with his tongue, then suck it clean away. He fed her more ice cream, dribbled more of it over her breasts, and found her very erotic lying naked against the pillows, the ice cream on her lips, the warmth of her body melting it into pools of cream running over her breasts and down her torso. He had held back enough. He removed the tray from between them and placed it at the foot of the bed.

  ‘We can do better for each other than ice cream, no matter how good it tastes,’ he told her, and she knew he was right.

  Anoushka closed her eyes. She was trying to get possession of herself, but it was too late. She knew what he was promising and lust had her under a sexual spell. He had held back long enough. With a spoon, he attacked the now collapsed mound of ice cream still left on the platter. He would penetrate a cunt through swirls of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. The very idea both amused and excited.

  ‘Madness, this is madness.’ But it was not a protest from Anoushka, more an observation.

  ‘That’s right, Anoushka, delicious madness to pave the way for us,’ he told her as he raised her legs and placed them high on his shoulders. The tray clattered to the floor but they were barely aware of that. He grasped her by the hips.

  The cream made it easier for Hadon. One thrust and the knob of his penis was tightly lodged inside her. It felt marvellous, much too good for her to keep silent. ‘Hadon, how wonderful! More, now.’ Her heart was racing. She drew in a deep breath and held it.

  Hadon moved his hands from her hips to slip them under her arms and over her shoulders. He would pull her on to his cock as he thrust into her. Anoushka felt him move in deeper, slowly take possession of her until she could feel him tight up against her cervix, his scrotum slapping against her as he fucked her slowly, sensitising her to the slightest exchange, every nuance of a great fuck.

  He did nothing to stop her cries of pleasure. They excited him and he didn’t care who, if anyone, in the adjacent cabin heard them. Hadon and Anoushka took their time. This was to be no violation, this was to be sex and coming, carnal desire fulfilled at its very best. They were cunt and cock in flagrant togetherness, working in total harmony. So many positions to excite, for another sexual sensation so that they might go that little bit further into an erotic landscape from which neither one of them ever wanted to return. They revived themselves periodically with catnaps and a bottle of Bollinger, the taste and scent of sex at its very best. And so went the night and the beginning of a new day.

  Chapter 6

  ‘You don’t have to say anything about last night. In fact it’s better if you don’t.’ There was nothing nervy in Anoushka’s voice, it was more matter of fact.

  ‘Not even if it was to say thank you for a great brief encounter? You will at least allow me that?’

  Hadon reached across the table where they were having hot croissants and coffee and took Anoushka’s hand in his. They gazed into each other’s eyes.

  ‘No more than that, please.’

  There was something in the way she said it that made Hadon agree. ‘All right, but just answer me this – you’re not sorry about last night?’

  Anoushka was quick to tell him, ‘Certainly not. Overwhelmed that I should have had such great sex with a stranger, grateful to have come so alive again when I thought my life was over. Not sorry. But it will never happen for us again. I’m sure you understand.’

  Hadon kissed the hand he held and remained silent. He liked the romance of their situation: two people who gave themselves entirely and forever in one encounter, then passed on to other lives and other worlds. She was of course right, and once more he was surprised by this woman, how sensitive and romantic and very honourable she was, how incapable of tarnishing one night of perfection. For a greedy woman that said something, and he had no doubts that she was a greedy woman, or had certainly been one until her fall.

  They were sitting on the private terrace off his suite of rooms, Anoushka dressed in her gown of the evening with his coat over it. There was little wind, and the ocean looked calm as the liner cut through it. The sun was high in the sky but there was warmth in it. A waiter slid the glass doors to the sitting room open and announced breakfast was served, and they left the terrace to sit at the table with the red roses on it.

  There they were presented with omelettes stuffed with a ragoût of shrimps and mushrooms in Normandy sauce. They were accompanied by diced potatoes sautéd in black butter, purée of creamed spinach, and a mound of crisp bacon. Hot brioches and hot black coffee followed.

  After serving, the waiter reminded Hadon that disembarkation at Cherbourg was at eleven o’clock and Southampton at approximately four o’clock that afternoon, and then left the sitting room leaving them to dine à deux.

  The information seemed to Anoushka an intrusion of the real world she would rather forget.

  ‘My luggage goes ashore at Cherbourg, but I disembark at Southampton. By the time I get home tomorrow evening my luggage will have been unpacked and my things put in their proper places. I live in Nice.’ That was the only thing Hadon had volunteered about himself, and that was too much for Anoushka. Anonymity, Hadon as a man of mystery, was easier for her to deal with.

  ‘I’d almost forgotten that great ocean liners have schedules. They dock and people get off and resume their lives,’ she told him.

  ‘That’s what ocean voyages are for, to cut yourself off from everyday existence. You can meet yourself for the first time on an ocean crossing. Have adventures that can change your life, your thinking. Or some people can.’

  Anoushka listened to Hadon and had to agree with him. In his presence she felt somehow a very different woman from Anoushka Rivers, wife of the eminent Dr Robert Rivers of Harley Rogers Clinic, and it felt good. This man, the night before during their sexual escapades, and the way he was with her now, gave a boost to her damaged self-esteem. She was living every minute with him and enjoying it, feeling so very much alive that there was no time for thought, the past, the future, concern over what impression she was making; nothing mattered except being herself. She felt high on herself, as if she had had too much vodka, or, she imagined, had smoked too much dope. She was excited, but about what? A new life? No, just being alive.

  It was a strange sensation this feeling so good, having her head in the clouds. She hardly knew who she was, where she was going, what she was going to do – and it didn’t seem to matter. Strange sensation or not, that was how she felt and didn’t question it.

  She looked up as Hadon rose from his chair to cross the room and place a disc on the CD player. Music from the court of Louis XIV, fragile and sweet, the sound of harpsichord and the flute. It didn’t so much fill the room with sound as soften the atmosphere, whisper exquisite chords, ethereal sounds, that triggered the imagination.

  Hadon broke off a piece of brioche and buttered it. She watched him. Anoushka liked the way he ate, with gusto and appreciation of food; he had the same lust for it as he had for sex. He broke into her thoughts. ‘Is it Cherbourg or Southampton for you?’

  His question took her by surprise. That was the first time he had asked her about her life. Who she was, where she was going. All he knew about her until now she had volunteered. ‘Southampton,’ she answered him reluctantly.

  ‘And then what?’

  Again she was surprised that he should ask
her to explain herself. She had thought they had come to an understanding: no questions asked. A brief interlude, never to be forgotten or perpetuated. His questions were like invisible threads drawing her back to the reality of her situation: rejection, pain, deceit. Of having to face creating a new and different life for herself, maybe even a new persona. She was sorry he had asked, and didn’t answer.

  He was unabashed by her silence. ‘I’ll give you a card, my London agent’s. I’ll see him for dinner this evening and tell him I have met someone I would like to take on the translation of some of my manuscripts. He’ll have instructions from me that if you should want to work we’ll give you a chance. It’s what I would like, and it doesn’t matter when if you do decide to do it. It doesn’t even matter if you decide never to do something with your languages, not to me anyway. Everyone is replaceable, you’ll find that out soon enough. Unless you have already. For example, last night.’

  A mean and leading statement, the twinkle in his eye, the insinuation that it might have been he who had replaced Robert in sex with her. If he was trying to provoke her, he hadn’t succeeded.

  ‘I think you’ve spoilt me,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You’ve dined me so well and wined me and taken me to an erotic wonderland, a trip to be remembered, one to last a lifetime.’

  How clever she was in changing the subject of working on his books, with flattery, reminding him they were to be nothing more than a one-night stand. She was smiling at him. He couldn’t help but laugh and tell her, ‘You’re such a coquette, a seductress par excellence. You show me only flashes of it, but I do see it. One day I might write about a woman like you. Make you the heroine that I think you probably are. But I would describe you as a young woman before you married the wrong man.’

  He held up his hand to stop her before she made a protest. ‘No, don’t defend yourself or him. I don’t want to hear your story. I’m only telling you what I see, what I know from the few facts I have learned about you. A writer’s imagination will do the rest. Something I write one day might well be inspired by you. I’ll make a deduction. That is, if you will allow me?’