His hand
ran across her cheek, pushing the hair aside from her ear. ‘So I can’t persuade
you to change your mind? It’s your final decision?’
‘Yes,’
she replied quietly, candlelight gleaming in hazel eyes, ‘my final decision.’
She looked down at her hands and bit her lip. ‘I’m very fond of you Richard,
believe me, but there are too many other things - things I couldn’t expect you
to understand. Anyway, I booked the flight last week - you know I did.’
‘OK,’
he said, laying down his knife and fork and pushing aside the empty plate. ‘But
can’t we keep in touch – won’t you give me a post box address or even your
mobile phone number? And if not that, at least an e-mail address.’
‘Richard
- please, it’s not that easy. Look, you have my parent’s address; if you still
want to keep in touch, she’ll forward your letters on to me.’
What
could he know about Karen’s secret life? It was a world far apart from his. It
was a world of sinister places – of voluptuous and lustful pursuits. It was a
world where, so often helpless even to voice her objections, she might be
driven to orgasmic heights she had never before experienced. The man she had
shared these past weeks with would never understand the mesmerising presence of
the one whose image drew her back to the villa in France.
Richard
remained silent, lifting his glass and drinking a little red wine. His gaze
took in the soft, flaxen hair that tumbled not quite unkempt about her naked
shoulders, the silver locket she always wore but was so secretive about, her
firm breasts confined by the thin material of the white dress. He thought of
how intimately each had come to know the other and how easily Karen was
sexually aroused. Yet, beneath that sensuality lay another Karen.
‘You
can’t blame me, can you though?’ he said at length. ‘You’re young and very
beautiful, and I feel as if I’ve known you for a great deal longer than I
really have.’
‘Yes,’
she smiled, reaching over the table to place her hand over his, ‘and nobody has
ever been sweeter to me than you. I’ve thought a few times that if I -.’
‘Excuse
me, sir, madam,’ cut in a voice at their side, ‘will you be requiring
desserts?’
He
glanced from the waiter to Karen, his head tilted questioningly.
‘No,
I think I’ve had enough,’ she said. ‘Just a coffee, perhaps.’
***
They
stepped from the warm intimacy of the restaurant into a side street. The night
air was chilly and damp and dark pavements glistened wet in the impersonal glow
of the street lamps. Karen pulled her fawn raincoat tighter. Opening the car
doors, he was about to speak, when words were drowned by the shrieking hee-haw,
hee-haw, hee-haw of two police cars careering, blue lights flashing out a new
discord by amidst the chaos of vehicles. Once in the car he took her hand,
saying, ‘You know I’m up in Birmingham tomorrow afternoon so I can’t even drive
you to the airport.’ He switched on the engine without taking his gaze from
her. ‘Look, what I’m saying is, why not come back to my hotel for another hour
or two and we can drive around to your flat later. I don’t want to say goodbye
until we really have to. What d’you say?’
She
smiled, the illumination from the instrument panel glinting in her eyes. Her
hand squeezed his thigh. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’
‘What’s
that?’
‘Well,
it’s no more bother for me to get breakfast for two instead of one. We can
still have a drink at your hotel first if you want to collect a few things from
your room.’
‘D’you know,’ he responded with a broad smile, ‘I might just
go along with that!’
They
edged through the city streets, through glaring lights, beneath rearing dark
office blocks, asleep with windows blank and anonymous against the darker sky.
The traffic slowed, stopped, then shifted reluctantly
once more in a stream of fluctuating lights.
‘It’s
raining again,’ he breathed.
The
wipers hummed and squeaked away crawling minutes.
‘I’m
lost,’ said Karen, peering from her side window.’
‘Next
junction we turn onto Bayswater Road - not too far after that.’
She
continued to stare through the window but gone were the lights and the rain,
gone the dodging back and forth of nameless people across wet streets and
pavements. Before her lay a calm blue sky, open and smiling above the
vineyards. There was the white villa with terracotta roof, portico and windows
letting in the sunlight through open green shutters. There were the gardens,
the pinewoods, and across the valley, the distant sea. There were her friends
and there, too, was the vindictive Pauline whose presence she had learned to
accept. Above all there was Sonia, head of the little empire whose tentacles of
libertine indulgence reached into the highest levels of European government,
finance and church. Sonia, whose house in Languedoc, where Karen had taken up
secretarial employment the previous year, was also venue for the enactment and
recording of diverse and bizarre acts of sexuality. A house visited anonymously
by those from the higher echelons of society to witness and to practise much of
what they publicly condemned in others. This was the Sonia who Karen had
resisted for a time but within whose web of sensuality she had become so
hopelessly entangled. Sonia, for whom domination was the rule and who, in those
secret times together, had treated her as a sexual plaything, owned and used
her under the strictest physical control. How could poor Richard – how could
anyone in his day-to-day world ever understand what had happened or why she
wished to return? She herself did not entirely understand.
‘You’ve
gone very quiet,’ he said.
‘Oh,
have I?’ she breathed. ‘I was wondering when this awful traffic jam would end.’
‘Not
long now.’ The traffic lights changed to green and they began to edge forward.
‘You don’t really want to swap the big city for an uneventful life out in the
sticks, do you?’
‘You
must be joking,’ she replied under her breath, then added, ‘It suits me –
that’s all.’
Once
on the main thoroughfare, heading away from London, their progress
improved. Soon, to the right, a large,
modem hotel proclaimed itself in a rising slab of light.
‘Are
you coming in?’ he asked, as they pulled up a short distance from the main
entrance.
‘Er, no,’ she hesitated, ‘I’ve changed my mind about coming
inside. I’ll stay here and listen to the radio. You won’t be long, will you?’
***
‘Is
it as posh as it looks?’ she asked as he negotiated their way back into the
traffic.
‘I’ve
stayed in a lot worse,’ he murmured.
The
wipers hissed hypnotic rhythm, reminding her of that day which now seemed a
lifetime ago, when the cab had collected her from that miserable shop doorway
and whisked her on an uncertain journey to the interview with Sonia. The muted
trees and iron railings of Kensington Gardens drifted by on their left and
Karen said, ‘I suppose it’s pleasant enough here in the summer.’
‘Steady
on,’ he responded, ‘we’re halfway through May already. It isn’t the
Mediterranean, you know!’
‘No,’
she smiled, ‘it isn’t.’
‘Oh
well,’ he continued, ‘wherever you end up later this week, next stop is Notting
Hill.’
***
‘You
have a nice little place here,’ he remarked, watching Karen draw red velvet
curtains across the lounge windows. ‘And only a few minutes’ walk from the
Central Line.’
‘It’s
not bad,’ she agreed. She lifted her raincoat from the back of the chair and
walked over to the bedroom, turning briefly. ‘Bring your coat in here if you
like. There’s plenty of hanging room.
I’ve packed most of my things.’
He
pulled off his jacket and followed her through, noting the two small suitcases
that rested on the floor by the end of the double bed.
‘My
travel bag - will it be OK in here too?’
‘Of
course,’ she replied. ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying.’
‘Er - no, I hadn’t actually,’ he answered, watching her
slim, curvaceous form in her short white dress as she pushed the two cases
against the wall.
Karen
turned to him. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Richard. I have enjoyed
myself.’
He
put his arms about her waist and kissed her. ‘I’m sorry about all the
hold-ups.’
She
returned his kiss, enveloping him in perfumed warmth. Pulling her closer-still,
his lips moved from her mouth to her neck and down over her bare shoulder, then
she said, ‘Look, I’m going to take a quick shower and get changed.’ She moved
back and pushed her hair over her shoulders. ‘If you want to get us both a
drink, there's some Scotch left in the kitchen cupboard. It’s all the booze
I’ve got left, I’m afraid.’
He
watched her walk toward the bathroom, hands above her neck, seeking the zip
fastener at the back of her collar. In the doorway she hesitated, pulling down
the zipper as far as her reach would allow. An arm passed around her waist and
she closed her eyes. His lips brushed about the back of her neck, making her
tingle. The zip fastener continued downwards until it reached her waist. The dress
fell away from her shoulders. Insistent lips moved to the side of her neck and
to her cheek while hands slipped around to cup her naked breasts. Fingers and
thumbs teased hardening nipples whilst Karen could feel his arousal against her
behind.
‘Is
there room for two in that shower?’ he whispered, desire shining in his eyes.
She
twisted her head and smiled. ‘Only just.’
A
minute later they were naked in the cubicle together.
‘You’re
right about it being cramped,’ he laughed, holding her close under the hot
cascade. ‘It certainly wasn’t built for
two!’
They
lathered each other liberally with pink shower gel - thick foam building up to
swirl about their feet. Hard and inflamed, his cock slid sometimes against the
base of her stomach, sometimes between her legs, the head slipping easily, but
only so far, between the lubricated folds of her sex whilst their hands played
a voluptuous game. When he splashed the foam away from her breasts it was to
let his mouth close upon her nipples, sucking and teasing them in turn until
they were reddened and hard. Their fingers danced the game of lust, his
stroking deeply into her, feeling her relaxed and unresisting, hers closing
about his erection and working it slowly back and forth, making him groan
softly whilst his fingers dug into her flesh.