Blackmailed by the beast

by Georgia Le Carre

  When I have counted enough time for the camera to do its sweep of that patch of ground, I run to the wall and, stepping into the grooves in it, climb over it. I drop onto the other side as nimble as a cat (I have been doing this for many years) and casually walk down the road. The taxi with the minicab company’s name printed on the door is waiting for me at the end of it. I open the door, slip into it, and give the driver Noah’s address.

  My heart is hammering in my chest.

  Noah Abramovich

  There is beauty in everything.

  All you have to do is open up your heart

  -Mahinour

  There are no stars in the night sky above, and the air is strangely heavy and full of static electricity. A storm must be coming. I stand in my back garden smoking a cigarette, my whole body tight and strung out. It is waiting for hers.

  For so many years, I dreamed of her. I dreamed of conquering her, fucking her, branding her, pulling the stuck-up Princess’s hair, forcing her to take my cock, and seeing her on her knees cowed and submissive. All it took was one night. Just one night for her to turn my dream to ashes.

  If I was a tree, I lost, leaf by fucking leaf.

  The tip of my cigarette glows amber as I inhale deeply. I look at my watch. It’s already twelve thirty. She won’t come tonight. It is too late. The disappointment is like a crushing weight on my chest, but I tell myself it is for the best. It disturbs me to think of her taking a taxi at this time of the night. The world is a cruel place for a beautiful woman.

  I flick the cigarette away and roll my tense shoulders. Her black velvet box of earrings is burning a hole in the pocket of my pants. I take it out and open it. The jewels gleam in the light from the open doors. I tilt the box and they catch the light and look like green fire. I stroke the stones. They don’t feel cold to the touch.

  I have never done anything like this before. Always kept my emotions locked away. Nothing but ice-cold concentration for the job at hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought them, but at that moment I couldn’t bear for him to claim her as his. She belongs to me and she will be mine even if it is the last thing I do.

  Filled with a deep sense of restlessness, I close the box and drop it back into my pocket. I don’t want to get drunk alone again. I should go out. Maybe I’ll go to the club and have a drink with the boys, though the prospect doesn’t enthuse me.

  I start when I hear the doorbell ring.

  I turn to the sound, staring through the French doors. My heart suddenly pounding.

  Fuck. She came.

  I stride into the house and open the door.

  ‘Hi,’ she says.

  Oh, Tasha, Tasha, Tasha.

  I pull her in, kick the door shut and, taking her in my arms, crush her mouth with mine and kiss the shit out of her. She melts against my body. While I kiss her my hands are undressing her. Her sweater, her top, her bra, her jeans, her underwear. Suddenly I see them. I grab her wrist and bring it up.

  ‘He did this?’ I ask, my voice deceptively soft.

  She shakes her head and I feel her trembling. ‘It’s nothing. I bruise easily.’

  Fury like I have never experienced slams into my gut. I can’t even think straight with it. How fucking dare he? Who the fuck does that pompous sack of shit think he is? I won’t, I can’t take this lying down. ‘I’ll kill the fucking cunt.’

  She puts her palms on either side of my face, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. ‘Don’t. Don’t spoil tonight. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.’

  I look at the sad desperation in her face, and even though it makes me sick to my stomach, I control myself. For now. Taking deep breaths, I calm myself, but fucking hell, he has made himself an unforgiving nemesis.

  ‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ I demand.

  She bows her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘If you don’t tell me I’ll get it directly from him, and it won’t be pretty,’ I warn, my voice cold and quiet.

  Her head flies up. ‘No, don’t,’ she cries.

  I stare hard at her. She seems suddenly so pale and vulnerable I want to hold her tightly and never let her leave this house. I soften my voice. ‘Then tell me,’ I coax.

  ‘You shouldn’t have bought the earrings. You shouldn’t have showed your hand. It was a rash thing to do. Now he knows that you and I are …’ She shudders. ‘What if he tells my father?’

  I don’t tell her that I wanted to show my hand. I wanted to rattle his cage. I’m not going to stand for her having to sneak around in the middle of the night to see me. I want to blow it all out of the water. I want to stand in front of her father come what may. War or not, I’ll declare that she is mine.

  I bring her wrist to my mouth and kiss the blue marks his fingers have left on her skin. Her expression is troubled, and it kills me that I can’t erase that look of fear and worry or protect her. That tomorrow at dawn I will again have let her go. And while she is out of my sight anything could happen to her. Oh, God, even the thought of anything happening to her. I pull her soft body against mine and breathe in the clean, sweet smell.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that sick coward,’ I mutter into her soft hair.

  ‘It’s okay. It’s not your responsibility.’

  That is where she is wrong. She is my responsibility. Every inch of skin on her body is my responsibility.

  ‘I’m here now, so what’re you going to do about it, mmm?’

  I feel her body wriggle and rub wantonly against mine and immediately the uncontrollable lust she always invokes in my loins overtakes me.

  I pull away slightly, cup her bare breasts, and let my thumbs caress the stiff peaks. I can’t help being sinfully aroused by the startling contrast of my darker skin against her white flesh.

  There is a condom in my trouser pocket and I fish it out. While I gently chew her nipples she groans hoarsely. I unzip my pants and release my straining cock. I push her up against the wall, stabbing my tongue into her open mouth and my cock into her pussy at the same time.

  I plunder her mouth while my hands grab the firm cheeks of her ass and pull her even tighter against my cock. Wild and unashamed she sucks my tongue and rocks her hips into me. I release her mouth to return to her breasts. I want to see them twice their size, as they were last night. I draw the tips into my mouth and suck them roughly. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glazed with passion. She furrows her fingers into my hair and presses my head closer to her body.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she almost sobs with pleasure.

  I nip one of the buds and she gasps. The sound touches something dark and forbidden inside me. I bend down to pick her up then stride to the living room. I put her down in the middle of the room and take a step back.

  Let me see if she understands what I want from her.

  Tasha Evanoff

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_f56CZ99JY

  What A Feeling

  Breathing heavily, he stares down at me. The contrast between the snowy white dress shirt and his deep tan makes his face look predatory and fierce. He starts to undo his cufflinks. Dropping them to the floor, he unbuttons his shirt.

  His face is unsmiling and watchful.

  For a second I don’t understand, and then I do, and a thrill of excitement runs through me. I smile a little secret smile before I turn around and walk away from him. Four steps into the room and I slowly twirl back, sink to my knees, and assume the position. My head bowed, my knees well apart, my bottom on the backs of my heels, and my hands spread out on my thighs close to my knees. Complete submission.

  I hear the rustle of his shirt and pants falling to the floor, the thud of his shoes hitting the ground. He comes forward and circles me.

  ‘Look at me, Tasha,’ he orders.

  I obey.

  He puts his hand on my bare shoulder and strokes it. ‘You are mine.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘From the moment your eyes met mine that summer by the pool you’ve been mine, and you’l
l always be mine.’

  I rise to my knees and remain rock still, my mouth frozen open in front of him. He takes the condom off and his cock is dripping copious amounts of pre-cum. He moves closer to me, but not close enough that I don’t have to lean forward to an almost precarious angle to snake my tongue out and run it slowly up the side of his shaft and over his cockhead.

  He is so warm, his scent intoxicating. This is my man, I think with dizzy pleasure.

  He intertwines his fingers into my hair and plunges his entire shaft deep into my throat making me gag, and saliva floods my mouth. He withdraws temporarily from the tightness of my throat. Then, taking advantage of the extra lubrication of my saliva, he pulls my head as close as possible to him and fucks my mouth.

  ‘You’ve had this coming to you for a long time,’ he groans. ‘You deliberately teased me with your delicious body from the first moment you laid eyes on me, didn’t you?’

  My mouth stuffed with hard cock, I nod, making my head bob.

  ‘You’ve given me a fucking hard-on for years. Now you have to pay for that.’

  I nod.

  ‘Tell me,’ he commands, ‘that none of the fools you’ve known have ever fucked you like this.’

  I give a shake to my head.

  He pulls out of me. ‘Say it,’ he presses.

  ‘No one has even come close to this.’

  He smiles with satisfaction and saws deeper into my mouth. It doesn’t take long before he explodes, filling my throat with hot cum. He looks down at me.

  ‘Now go lie on the couch and spread your legs wide for me.’ His smile is pure evil, and I shiver with anticipation.

  I rise up and do as he asks, stretching myself over the couch so my legs are splayed open and my weeping center is exposed to his eyes. His eyes are hot wells of black tar as he approaches me.

  He kneels between my legs and uses his thumbs to pull apart my pussy lips, then repeatedly licks at the throbbing flesh as I gasp. His fingers dip into my slick entrance as his tongue rasps at my clit, lashing and stroking it until wild, high-pitched cries and shrieks stream from my mouth.

  I rock my groin helplessly against his mouth and tongue as he continues to devour me. I can’t even imagine what I must look like to him, naked, splayed wide open, and shamelessly begging for more, while he sucks my bud and fucks me with his fingers.

  He switches his fingers for his thumb, which he slowly rubs inside me, up and down until my skin grows hot and my hips are lifting off the couch. Then he thrusts his thumb into me harder and rougher. My body tightens unbearably as the tension ratchets higher. I hear myself moaning and pleading with him not to stop as he continues to stab into me. At this point though, things are so heated, he is fucking me as hard as I am fucking his thumb.

  His greedy tongue laves across my spread labia from top to bottom. I never imagined any man could be so committed to the enjoyment of my flesh. He devours me until I begin to shake and my fingers dig into his shoulder. Finally, I go rigid as the tension peaks. It holds me in its thrall before crashing over me in an earth-shattering roar. While I ride out the storm, Noah continues to use his fingers and mouth. He doesn’t stop, even after uncontrollable hot juices gush out of me and all over his thumb and mouth. My head rolls back.

  Oh my God! Have I just peed on him?

  Flushed, dazed, horribly embarrassed, and unable to move, I look into his eyes. As I try to recover, I realize how hard and horny he is just from watching me, and how much he needs to come again. He doesn’t try to take me. He just smiles softly and gathers me in his arms. ‘Oh, look at you,’ he croons. ‘You’re just a baby.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I croak.

  He jerks his head back in surprise. ‘For what?’

  ‘You know why,’ I mutter, too embarrassed to even say the words.

  ‘Actually, I don’t.’

  ‘I peed on you.’

  He chuckles. ‘You didn’t pee on me. I stimulated your G-spot so you squirted for me and that was beautiful to watch.’

  He kisses me on my mouth. Gently. Sweetly. Protectively. It is the safest feeling in his arms. I forget Oliver and his threats, and my father with his insect eyes.

  There is a sudden flash of light in the room then a rumble of thunder.

  ‘The storm is here,’ I whisper. ‘I’ve always loved watching storms. Even when I was a little girl.’

  He smiles at me. ‘Want to watch it in the next room while we eat?’

  My first reaction is to refuse food.

  ‘I have Chak-Chak,’ he says with a wickedly impish grin.

  Oh, deep fried little logs of unleavened dough topped with hot honey syrup. It’s been a long time since I had some. Come to think of it, I was wound up at the dinner and hardly ate any of it. ‘In that case, okay,’ I agree with a happy grin.

  ‘I’m going to have a bowl of zharkoye too. Want one?’ he offers.

  ‘Who made it?’

  ‘Irina brought it in this morning. She makes it at her home.’

  Homemade beef stew. The ultimate in comfort food and a definite must when watching a storm outside. ‘All right,’ I concur, ‘but only a little for me.’

  He uncurls himself and pulls me up with him.

  ‘Are you cold? Do you want something to wear?’ he asks.

  ‘I’ll wear your shirt,’ I say, going to his discarded shirt and slipping my arms through the oversized sleeves. It smells of him and I hug it close to my body.

  Noah rolls up the shag rug and slings it over one shoulder. We go through to the next reception room where the glass doors open out to the garden. Noah unrolls the carpet in front of the doors. Taking the cushions from the couches, he throws them on the carpet.

  ‘Do you want some blankets?’

  ‘No, I’m not cold,’ I reply.

  ‘Fine. Wait here for me,’ he says, and goes out of the door.

  Tasha Evanoff

  I lie back propped up against cushions on the shag carpet and look at the black sky as it streaks with flashes of white lightning. The power of it leaves me strangely excited. I count the seconds before the thunderclaps. One, two, three. Hmm … using the counting system of Baba, where one second is equivalent to one mile, the storm is only three miles away. It could get to where we are. The storm could break over us … if we are lucky.

  In minutes Noah is back carrying a tray. Two steaming bowls of stew and a plate piled high with Chak-Chak. I dip my spoon into the rich brown liquid and put a bit of potato and beef into my mouth. The meat is so tender it disintegrates on my tongue.

  ‘Mmmm … Irina is really good,’ I say. I close my eyes. ‘I can taste the cloves and the dill, but she’s also used another ingredient.’ I pause and frown. ‘I think it’s rosemary. No, wait. It’s not. It’s actually oregano,’ I decide finally.

  He looks at me with an odd smile.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You remind me of a joke my restaurant manager once told me.’

  ‘Go on then, share it. I can see you’re dying to tell me.’ I put a mouthful of food into my mouth and look at him expectantly.

  He grins. ‘There was this gourmet who had an amazing sense of smell. He was very proud of it because it was so damn accurate and strong. All he had to do was smell a fork or a knife and he could tell exactly what food had been eaten using that utensil. He could do this even after it had been washed. Every time he went to the restaurant he wouldn’t let the waiter or waitress show him the menu, or tell him the special. He would simply smell the fork and know every single dish that the restaurant specialized in.

  ‘One day he goes into this Italian restaurant and, as usual, before the waiter can tell him the specials for the night, he holds up his hand. “Let me see if I can guess,” he says.

  ‘The waiter looks at him strangely, thinking, Oh God, I’m getting too old for this job. Silently he gestures for the man to proceed. The man smells the fork. “Ah,” he says. “You have sea bass baked with anchovies and olives, but the Chef has put a touch too much lemon j
uice in that dish so I won’t have that. Instead I’ll have the chicken with Parma ham, and the baked potato which also smells good.”

  ‘Shocked, the waiter asks, “You got all that from smelling the fork?”

  ‘The man explains about his amazing sense of smell but, of course, the old waiter suspects it must be a trick. He must know someone who has been in that restaurant before. However, he wants his tip so he quietly serves the man’s meal to him. For dessert the waiter opens his mouth to tell him the specials. Again the man puts out his hand and smells the spoon. “Ah, it seems as if the Tiramisu is very fresh.”

  ‘Now the waiter is convinced someone is playing a trick on him. “Yes, Sir, the tiramisu was made this morning,” he says politely. “Yes, I will have that then,” says the man.

  ‘The waiter resolves to play a little trick of his own on the man. “No, no, before you make your decision there is a very special dish that the Chef has prepared that has not yet been served to anyone else. I will let you smell it and guess for yourself. And if you correctly guess it you can have your entire meal on the house.”

  ‘The man agrees.

  ‘The waiter goes into the kitchen to the back where Maria is working washing dishes. He gives her an unused plastic spoon. “Listen, Maria, can you do me a favor and rub this quickly between your legs?”

  ‘Maria is a simple girl. “Okay,” she agrees and she sticks the spoon into her panties.

  ‘The waiter washes the spoon, then wipes it down carefully, and carries it to the man.

  ‘The man brings the spoon to his nose and sniffs it. He sniffs it once, then twice. Looking perplexed, he turns to the waiter. “But, Maria works here too?” he asks.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘That’s a good one.’

  He laughs too and suddenly I feel really close to him. As if we have been together for years and years.

  ‘So tell me about you?’ I ask, putting the empty bowl down.