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  Jamie shook his head. ‘Incredible alright. Are you telling the truth?’

  ‘Would I lie?’

  ‘Why should you?’ Thomas spoke quietly as he got up from the bench where he had been sitting.

  Not once, Michael noticed, did Thomas look his way. It unnerved him, but he did not allow himself to be ruffled. ‘I’ve no reason to lie. You asked, I answered.’ He patted Jamie on the arm. ‘Your turn next.’

  Jamie laughed then smiled broadly. ‘Sure. I’ll tell you on Wednesday. That’s when I’m here next.’

  Michael slapped him on the back affectionately. ‘Hold you to it.’

  Chapter 2

  Michael smiled to himself as he drove home. Those listening could not have known that he had put into words a fantasy he had enacted over and over again in his mind for very many years.

  At school there had indeed been a teacher who stood spread-legged at the end of the pool. She had indeed been a lovely creature, her skin a tawny brown by virtue of her mixed parentage. Her eyes had been dark brown, her lips full and her hair a crinkly mass of blackness that fell to halfway down her back.

  The boys, him included, had looked up her wide-legged shorts and imagined they could see far more than was actually visible in the musty darkness at the top of her legs. Miss Redpath had been the stuff teenage fantasies were made of, a useful adjunct to a throbbing penis and a hard-working hand. That fantasy had stayed with him. The story he had told his friends had been the imaginings of what they might have done together, not what had actually happened. The truth of his first time was far less exciting.

  Deirdre Anderson, the sister of one of his friends, had been besotted with him. She had ginger hair and dusky green eyes. She also wore spectacles which left a red indent over the bridge of her nose. Curiosity had overcome taste when it came to shedding his virginity. Deirdre had been a lily waiting to be plucked, and he had plucked her. Because he didn’t want to be seen out with someone who wasn’t exactly top drawer when it came to looks, he had suggested that they meet in the garage at the back of his house which backed onto the same lane as hers did. It was the first time in his life that he knew himself to be on a sure thing.

  His parents and her parents were out, and her brother had a passion for cricket. Michael had been given a ticket for the county match for his birthday. With saintly expression, he had handed the ticket over to his friend who was gullible enough not to doubt Michael’s protestations that he wasn’t really feeling up to it and, besides, he was looking forward to rugger and the winter.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  In the garage, Deirdre allowed herself to be pressed tightly up against the cold grey of the concrete wall.

  Fumbling beneath her school skirt, Michael had grown more and more excited, his kisses getting wetter and wetter as he rammed his tongue into Deirdre’s open mouth.

  In order to prevent her crying out, he had sucked determinedly on her lips as he slid his hand into her white cotton knickers and his fingers into the slippery flesh that nestled within her sexual divide.

  Deirdre’s one redeeming feature had been that she wore stockings rather than tights, and the feel of her adolescent thighs had fired his enthusiasm so his cock was good and ready to penetrate the unknown and untried.

  Slipping his fingers beneath the crotch of her knickers, he had pushed her legs apart with his free hand and his knee. Elation had surged through his bloodstream as the head of his penis had parted the lips of her sex.

  Freeing her breasts from the constraints of her bra was easy once his penis was in her. Big breasts tumbled into his hands and her nipples stiffened, reminding him of ripe acorns.

  As the fierceness of his thrusts increased, her ample hips began to jerk towards him and her pubic hair mingled with his.

  It had been the first time and Michael had been a novice in the field of human physiology and erogenous zones. But one thing he had been aware of, even at that age, was the fundamental facts of procreation. He was well aware that what went up could result in a nine-month foetus coming down, a fact he wished at all costs to avoid. He had no intention of becoming a teenage bridegroom. Neither did he wish to become a father.

  Fast and furious, his semen began to rise up the length of his member. Excited as he was, breath quick, face hot, he kept his head. Just as his semen was about to spurt from his end, he pulled it out, leaving Deirdre sobbing with regret, and let his fluid fall into the pool of oil left on the floor by his father’s car.

  Deirdre continued to bemoan her dissatisfaction and he couldn’t quite understand why. Clitoris was a name he only vaguely knew. He wasn’t really sure where it was situated among those fleshy lips, or what its function was. Such information only became clearer as he got older. So poor Deirdre was left bereft of climax, her sex slippery with juice, and one leg of her knickers tom beyond repair.

  Michael sighed and shook his head. Deirdre and the true story of his first time was not for repeating but, thankfully, Miss Redpath had still been in his head.

  His eyes sparkled and he began to laugh as he remembered the envy on the faces of his friends.

  Chapter 3

  Soft white curtains were billowing over a honey-coloured pine floor in a white-painted studio at the house Michael shared with his wife, Josie. Michael was being the perfect host, refilling glasses as he explained his wife’s paintings and sculptures to his business guests.

  True to form Josie had provided a superb dinner. As well as being a skilled artist, Michael’s wife was also an excellent chef. Her Seafood Thermidor had been exquisite, her Steak Italienne tender and tasty. After the refreshing contrast of melon and apricot sorbet, the brandy and coffee had gone down well - very well indeed.

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Alan Frinton, Executive Director of Far East Investments, the company Michael was presently wooing. ‘What joy it must be to have a wife who is gifted, a good cook and beautiful.’

  He said this as he admired an erotic terracotta figurine that stood on an ebony plinth. He did not see the lie in Michael’s eyes, he only heard him agree.

  ‘You are so right. Josie is a treasure in more ways than one. With each showing of her paintings, her own personal treasure trove increases. I can honestly say her bank account is bigger than mine. If I didn’t do what I do, you could almost term me a kept man.’

  Alan Frinton laughed as his eyes followed the slender woman with the striking red hair. He was not entirely fooled. In his head he was comparing the dynamic, extrovert Michael with the ephemeral Josie. She was too pale for Michael, he decided, too sensual, and far too clever. If only, he thought to himself, smiling benignly, but he did not comment. He was not alone in admiring Josie.

  ‘Has she shown her work in many exhibitions?’ asked Doug Hammond, the most important man in the company - Managing Director and Chairman all wrapped into one.

  Hammond was admiring a pastel nude that echoed the cubism of Picasso but had a certain originality; triangles of colour and light accentuated the curves of the woman’s body. It was titled Ashanti.

  ‘Three so far. But there will be more. In fact, she’s off to Cornwall shortly to make a personal appearance at the new place in St Ives. It should be very successful if her previous exhibitions are anything to go by.’

  There was a certain pride in his voice when he spoke of his wife. Josie was part of his success story. When he’d first met her and asked her out, she had turned him down, told him he was much too much of a womaniser for her. And anyway, she told him she loved someone else. But he’d been persistent; had even given her the impression he’d become celibate on her account. Of course he hadn’t, but he’d never let on that he seldom went to bed alone when he was away on business trips.

  The day came when the man Josie loved seemed to have disappeared from the scene.

  Always adept at turning a sad situation
to advantage, Michael had swooped. With a keen resolve he didn’t know he had, he pursued her, wore down her resistance until making her his own became as fixed an objective in his mind as being top salesman, most promising executive, and probable director. Josie had become his wife.

  Michael’s success within the company had soared. Socialising and entertaining became a way of life. Josie had been a worthwhile investment, but Michael’s tastes were diverse and wide-reaching. Eventually, he had succumbed to more colourful women and more vigorous sex. His life had divided into two. Josie was home, and home only melted into his professional life when he allowed it to.

  Dutiful as she was, Josie played her part well. She came up behind them as they admired her paintings and asked if everything was alright. Asked them if she could get them anything else - anything at all. She smiled warmly as if she were there just to be beautiful for them, just to be willing.

  After the guests had gone, the phone rang. Josie heard it from the kitchen; heard Michael pick it up; heard his voice drop in volume.

  Eyes blinking rapidly and face flushed, she walked out into the garden, the white curtains swirling behind her. Shoulders rigid, she stood still on the patio and waited for his footsteps, for the hesitation in his voice.

  ‘The roses look so beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘And their smell is quite impossible to describe.’

  He came up behind her, rested his hands just below her shoulders. His palms were warm, yet she wanted to shiver.

  ‘I have to go out. That was Alan. Our guests have got more stamina than we gave them credit for. They’re having a drink at the Hyperion and fancy having a flutter. They’ve asked me to join them.’

  ‘I see. And you have to go, of course.’

  ‘Of course I do, darling. It’s business.’

  Not once did she turn to look at him. Not once did her voice betray what she might be feeling.

  The fact that she hadn’t seemed to notice what he said unnerved Michael. Just because there was no accusation in her eyes didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty. On the contrary, receiving no response made him feel more guilty. But why should he? Hadn’t he given her a plausible excuse? He’d been to the Hyperion before, and so had she. While he had played the tables with Jamie and Crystal, she sat on a bar stool with Thomas, Crystal’s husband, and Mariana, Jamie’s wife - until Mariana had gone off to dance with some young black stud. Calm down, he said to himself. The Hyperion is a plausible enough excuse.

  But that was it. That was all it was. An excuse, and although Josie never questioned the truth of it, she never voiced any objection. Such disinterest made Michael suspicious that she knew.

  Before anything could be hinted at, he left.

  Josie heard his car start and, as it drove away, the squareness of her shoulders lessened.

  From beneath her folded arms, she pulled out a mobile phone, dialled a number, and heard a well-loved voice. ‘He’s gone. I’m in the garden.’

  That was all she said.

  Placing the phone on a garden table, she threw back her head and smiled up at the moon. Then she kicked off her shoes and let the green dress she was wearing slide to her ankles. She wore nothing beneath it. Michael had not known that. It was enough for her to know it, just as she had known that Michael would take advantage of having important business guests and go out after dinner.

  Kicking the dress to one side along with her shoes, she threw out her arms, let out a yell and ran through the wet grass like a happy child.

  In the dark shadows beneath a Japanese maple, she lay out on the damp grass, rested her head on her arms, and stared at the moon.

  At first the only sound around her was the rustling of the trees.

  Then there were footsteps; light and swift on the long grass that prevailed in this part of the garden.

  He came into her vision and stood between her and the moon so it seemed to form a halo around his head.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. ‘My love. Here at last.

  Let me worship you.’

  Silently, he took off his clothes and lay down beside her.

  Although the grass was chill to her back, his body was warm against hers.

  Chapter 4

  Michael ran his hands around the steering wheel as he drove. They were sweaty - mostly with excitement. A throbbing expectancy ebbed and flowed in his lower torso.

  Swiftly, he switched his lights from main beam to dipped. Ahead of him was the lay-by - their usual meeting place. Her car was already there. Just thinking about her dark hair, her sparkling blue eyes, made him breathe more heavily. Thinking about her perfectly round and very full breasts, her voluptuous abandon when he made love to her, increased the aching throb between his legs.

  Accompanied by a cloud of expensive perfume, Crystal, Thomas’s wife, opened the car door and slid into the seat beside him. His hands left the steering wheel and grabbed her shoulders. He clasped her to him as their lips met in a hot and passionate kiss.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, his lips still pecking at her cheek, her ear, the soft waves of her hair. He smelt her freshness, her warmth permeating through his shirt to his skin.

  The firmness of her body excited him. The smell of her invoked an odd feeling in him of wanting to ram himself into her as a knife slides into butter. He wanted to eat her, mould with her, savour her body in such a way that all his senses would be satisfied.

  ‘I want you.’ That was all she said.

  As her hands ran down over his chest to his waist and his zip, Michael threw back his head. Murmurs of ecstasy emerged from his throat as she pulled his erection from the front of his trousers and began stroking it. Her head dropped to his lap.

  Michael groaned. ‘Crystal! Darling! Can’t you wait?’

  A murmured ‘no’ drifted upwards. Through narrowed eyes, he could see the• top of her head bobbing up and down in a steady tempo as her lips sucked on him. Her mane of dark hair hid his sex and what she was doing to it. Never mind. He didn’t need to see. He could feel what she was doing, and it was absolutely delicious.

  ‘That is so good.’ As he groaned with pleasure, he rested his hands on her head and adjusted his pelvis so she could get to him better.

  Hot, moist kisses fell from her lips and all along his stem. Her tongue licked at his pubic hair and her hands pulled on him with a steady rhythm.

  ‘Crystal. Oh Crystal!’

  His voice had a drifting quality about it - like a breeze blowing rushes along a river-bank. Like the rushes, he was helpless to do anything about it.

  ‘Oh, Crystal, I’m coming,’ he moaned.

  The moment of no return was nigh, but just as he was about to ejaculate, she brought her head up and kissed him.

  ‘Crystal,’ he moaned once her lips had left his. ‘I was coming.’

  ‘Have you told Josie yet?’

  Instead of replying, he kissed her. It was a short kiss.

  She pushed him away.

  ‘Have you told her, Michael?’

  ‘Oh come on, Crystal. I had guests tonight. Big-shot guys who I had to impress. Josie did a great job and, anyway, before I could get her alone you rang and demanded I get out to see you.’

  She turned her head as he tried to kiss her so his mouth landed on her ear.

  ‘You’re full of shit, Michael. I don’t know why I love you. I should hate you, the way you treat me.’

  Michael sighed and despondently rested his head on one hand. When Crystal had called earlier that evening, he had immediately wanted sex with her. He had come out with that specific intention in mind. Now, his penis was softening as the wetness her mouth had left turned chilly. Would she change her mind and stop pressurizing him to leave Josie and go off with her? He doubted it.

  Crystal sat and glared through the windscreen. She folded her
arms in front of her. It made her look quite formidable.

  With red, glossy lips, Crystal pouted like a self-willed child. Michael suddenly felt very vulnerable.

  ‘Well? When are you going to tell her?’ Her voice took on a certain cutting edge.

  Michael groaned. ‘It’s not that easy, darling.’ He reached for her.

  ‘Don’t you darling me!’ She hit him away.

  Michael’s penis was turning cold and his stiffness was going fast. He had an urge to put it away, but had a greater longing for her to go back down on him. The likelihood of it happening did not look too promising - not for the moment at least.

  But Michael wanted his own way and meant to have it.

  He softened his voice. ‘Look, Crys. Tonight was full of business. The moment wasn’t right, but it soon will be. Soon Josie will be off to Cornwall. Instead of just screwing each other ragged during that time, why don’t we go over things and get everything in proper order. What do you say?’

  When she turned the full force of her eyes on him, he felt like melting - or coming in his trousers. Crystal was beautiful and knew it. Sometimes he felt as though he were falling into those eyes of hers. It was as though each sparkling glint was a chip of glass that burrowed into his flesh and pulled him nearer to her like some weird magnetic field.

  Slowly, the wilful glitter left her eyes. Her jaw loosened and the sculpted perfection of her cheekbones seemed softer.

  A smile returned. ‘Alright, Mike. When Josie’s away, you and I will play. But we’ll also make plans, plans for us; for me and for you.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Michael placed his hands on either side of her head. He ruffled her long, silky hair as he gazed at her, then sucked in his breath as her hands ran down to his open zip. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said again, his eyes half closing as his mouth met hers.

  He was hot, he was hard again, and he was pretty sure that Crystal was about to resume what she had been doing so well.