“Are you sure?” she yelled, watching him bolt downstairs.
“Absolutely. See you later, beauty.”
He slammed the door and was gone, the apartment feeling empty without him. This was why people got dogs, she decided. If everyone went out and left you home alone, you’d still have a companion to keep you company.
She ate her breakfast in total silence and drank her coffee leisurely, in no rush whatsoever. What did she have to be in the office on time for? She paid her employees to take care of things; she was only there to direct them when they needed it. Plus, the whole enterprise was her idea, so she’d kind of done all the hard work already, hadn’t she?
Anabel strolled to the shower, took extra special care of herself and left the apartment grinning from ear to ear.
Perhaps it wasn’t her ideal to be pregnant before she was married, but maybe Isaac had caught on with regards to her growing unease about putting it off. They could even have a registry office wedding for all she cared – all she wanted was him and a family.
The Big Doubt
The morning dragged and she didn’t get any work done. She kept thinking that something wasn’t right. She hated that she felt this way, but he’d always said, “I really dislike that woman,” and yet the day he learnt Susan and she had met in town, Isaac suddenly rediscovered his sex drive. Perhaps it was their conversation last night and the reminder that Anabel had a heart in comparison to her childhood best friend. Or their talk had offered him the chance to open up about his hectic work life. Whatever it was, she felt insane, beleaguered by doubt.
Even more shocking was the text she received from Isaac midmorning, reading:
We haven’t got anything on this weekend? I thought I’d make plans for us x
Nothing on x
She sat behind her desk and shook her head, her cheeks red.
Something was up… but what? She didn’t know yet.
On Friday night they boarded the Eurostar to Paris and she struggled not to get her hopes up that this was all real. She so wanted to believe it was… that they were a couple in love, hopping over to Paris for the weekend… desperate to screw and eat and absorb the spirit of the City of Love. It frightened her how much she wanted to believe in all of this… and how little she actually did, in reality. Her heart and her head were warring, in such dramatic fashion, that whenever he said something or told her he loved her, she grinned like a lovesick schoolgirl and said nothing – in case she said something that might ruin the mood.
They were taken by taxi to their accommodation, the Hotel Le Royal Monceau, a place only the wealthy might afford, where discretion and privacy were practically knitted with the walls.
They made it to the room and he asked, “What shall we do first?”
“I’m exhausted,” she giggled, “long week… and I’m starving. Why don’t we eat and bed, then tomorrow we can give the city our best?”
“Sounds bloody good to me.”
She padded towards the bathroom in her stocking feet and flooded the tub with bubbles, sinking beneath the hot water with utter, unparalleled glee. It didn’t matter it was an impeccable suite or was a million per cent clean, she just needed to be held by water and get out of her own head for a moment.
“Room service will be fifteen minutes,” he yelled, “I ordered you the chicken.”
“Thanks, baby. This bath is too good.”
“You enjoy it.”
She enjoyed it even more when he entered the room carrying a flute of champagne and placed it in her hand.
“Complementary,” he said, “and we have other little treats.”
“Oh yeah?” She raised her eyebrows.
He’d changed out of his clothes and unwrapped his robe, donning that over his mostly naked body, his pants showing because he hadn’t tied the belt. Trains were the worst for making one feel grotty and uncomfortable. No wonder they’d both got naked so quick.
“Chocolate and rose petals and massage oils.”
She bit her lip. “No.”
“Maybe.” He left the room with a dirty look in his eyes.
She couldn’t remember the last time they’d massaged one another. In fact, had they ever? Or was it so long ago, she merely couldn’t recall?
They ate dinner by the balcony, a summer breeze drifting between their ankles, lights from the city the only candlelight they needed. Her chicken was delicious, served on a bed of rice with all kinds of citrus flavours and a delightful jus of some sort drizzled all over. He’d opted for steak and they shared the rest of their champagne bottle.
After a while, she plucked up the courage to ask, “May I ask, where did all this come from? We haven’t been away together in ages.”
Each year, she usually enjoyed a few weekends away with old university friends, but as for when she and Isaac last had a proper holiday together, she couldn’t remember. She thought hard and realised the last time they’d got on an aeroplane together was last year, when she’d accompanied Isaac on a trip to New York, but he was working so much while they were there, she’d been alone most of the time and her credit card had borne the brunt.
Isaac enjoyed skiing with his brother and parents at their place in the Alps but Anabel wasn’t a skier by any stretch of the imagination and since she’d realised it wasn’t for her, she’d always avoided that one. In the summer months they tended to vacate to Anabel’s grandparent’s house in Devon, but she’d never really judged that a real holiday – not when Isaac brought his work with him wherever he went, even in the height of summer.
“I just needed a kick up the bum,” he said, looking serious. “I can’t believe I only just realised that my work isn’t everything, but that’s the truth. I’m realising that now.”
Perhaps this was a mini midlife crisis. Or, the whole term was a misconception. Anabel’s stepfather had been having one midlife crisis after another since his early forties. Maybe men were just weird.
“Can this really be a new chapter for us?” she said, sounding more desperate than she wanted to.
“Absolutely,” he enthused, reaching for her hand across the table, “oh, entirely new chapter. I promise. Absolutely.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “So… about those chocolates… and the massage oil.”
He wore a filthy grin, licking his lips, his skin so pink she could even see it was beneath his dark beard.
“Let’s get to it,” he said.
He put on some relaxing music and it drifted from some speakers she couldn’t see but were definitely there. She lay her naked body on the bed, on her front, and waited patiently. She was delighted when he straddled her backside and she felt his balls rub against her skin.
“Are you lovely and relaxed from your bath?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
“Let yourself drift away then.”
Isaac had definitely had a massage or two in his time, she could tell. He was a member at some gym he occasionally visited after work or at the weekend, and she knew they had things like that there. As his practised hands got to work, she knew he was aware of exactly what he was doing to her.
After he rubbed all the knots out of her shoulders and spine, he focused on her lower back and she moaned, making him chuckle and her giggle. Then as soon as he got to her buttocks, his bare bum resting across her legs instead, she got it into as he went to town giving her a deep-tissue massage, spreading her cheeks apart and pulling them back together. Her clit was pushed into the bedcovers and her nipples hardened against the bed beneath her; she spread her legs apart a little more and he adjusted his position so his legs were together between hers. And just as she was beginning to enjoy the gentle thronging of lust inside her, he moved quickly and lifted her haunches, pushed his tongue between her folds and quickly found her clit, sucking savagely.
She drenched the bed as she came, rubbing her nipples against the covers and rocking back and forth against his face. He lifted her bum high in the air and jabbed himself into her, almost too pai
nfully, but she quickly recovered and got over the shock.
He went quick, then slow, continuing to gently knead his fingertips into her lower back and buttocks, then back up to her shoulders, her skin slick and malleable. But as he became more demanding and her body bucked back and forth with his lunges, she adjusted the height of her buttocks and his cock found a beautiful place to rub against, making her drench the sheets again. She fell on her front but he tugged her onto her back and shifted forwards, hammering his hand up and down his cock until he came up and down her torso, covering her in sperm.
She bit her lip.
He’d never, ever done that before.
Ever.
Now she had a horrible feeling…
Nay, a certainty…
He’d learnt some new things from someone.
The massage.
The spurting without apology.
Holding off his orgasm until he’d tired her out.
All this was new, really.
Unless this was another midlife thing.
She didn’t think so.
She could try to convince herself this was a new, wiser, improved version of Isaac, but the truth was, the sex in the beginning of their relationship had been exciting because it was new and they fancied the bollocks off one another.
She’d always been able to get off on him in the past… but now she was getting off on him and his moves.
It was new.
Anyway, he switched off the lights, kicked away the wet sheets and brought a thin blanket over their bodies. The terrace door was shut now and they could sleep comfortably like this.
He held one arm around her waist and fell almost instantly to sleep, his chin resting on her shoulder as she lay on her back, unmoved since he’d covered her body in his sticky cream.
She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t feel.
She had questions, that was all, and they would be answered.
The next day, after deliriously enjoying the most decadent breakfast in the privacy of their own room, they left the hotel in search of the nearest Metro and ended up wandering around Montmartre. The funicular up had been abhorrently hot and sweaty and she had no qualms about spending the rest of the day roaming the cobbled streets up here and admiring the limestone buildings, until it got cooler and they could go back down the hill towards the hotel.
They stood by the railing outside the Sacrè Coeur and were looking out over the whole of Paris from their vantage point. The sky was pure blue but the hazy smog of pollution made it just a little difficult to spot the Eiffel Tower with any clarity.
“Why do you like it here?” he asked, standing beside her, looking impossibly beautiful in cropped stonewash jeans, tan leather loafers and a baggy linen shirt, crisp white and offsetting his dark colouring to perfection. His brown eyes danced as he waited for her response, his eyes straying only very briefly to her cleavage, proudly displayed in a tight cropped top, her navy culottes giving her life in this heat with a little air between her legs. She was glad she packed her sandals because anything else would’ve given her major blisters.
She looked into the distance as she spoke. “I think it’s the whole romance of it sitting so high up in the hills, but also how it’s been in so many films, and I don’t know… if I lived in Paris, I’d come up here at night and just look out across the city, maybe say a prayer indoors or something… it feels peaceful. It’s strange when so much sin exists just at the foot of the hill it’s sitting on, like this was put here as a gentle reminder… or a little… maybe… I don’t know… counterbalance.”
He placed a finger under her chin and turned her face towards him, kissing her softly, like a gentleman. It took her breath away and for a few moments, she felt butterflies in her stomach and smiled inside, absorbed by his tender touch and the smell and presence of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, “inside and out.”
Something about the look in his eyes caught her up and she turned her body towards his, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. They were locked passionately for quite some time before a couple of people cleared their throats, perhaps a remember to be reverent – or maybe they were just in the way of a great view.
They pulled away from one another grinning, until his demeanour changed and it looked like he was going to tell her something terrible.
Instead, she realised it was nerves as he dug his fingers deep into his jeans pocket and pulled out a ring.
A diamond – an absolute rock – a sparkling band.
Her heart thudded in her chest when he dropped to one knee.
“Anabel, I can think of no better place to propose to you, than your favourite place, and there’s no better woman out there than you. You’re the truest friend and the most amazing partner. Will you marry me?”
Of course, she said yes.
Of course.
And people nearby clapped.
Isaac scooped her up and swung her around as people whooped.
And even Anabel – even she – got caught up in it all.
But later, after several ecstatic shags back at their hotel, that tiny element of doubt returned and began to eat away at her again.
Was his intention to get her all caught up so she forgot about the little problem they’d had for the past six months? Hmm…
***
When Susan called a couple of days into the new week, asking if she’d like to come over to her place for drinks, Anabel agreed – but without telling Isaac she was seeing Susan; instead she told him she was having drinks with colleagues and that she’d be home after that.
The address Susan gave her was super exclusive, Belgravia no less. She arrived at a tall, stucco building feeling a little more than intimidated – she was terrified.
She feared the truth, she feared herself, but more than anything, she feared Susan and her mystery. It didn’t sit well with her.
She pressed the button for an apartment that had someone else’s name alongside the buzzer but it was the number Susan had given her. She was buzzed inside and assumed it was Susan who had buzzed her in; she had no idea if she was walking to her doom to be stolen away by some random trafficker. Who knew if Susan could be trusted?
She climbed the stairs up a couple of floors and was met by a door that had been left ajar. Perhaps there was very little crime around these parts. Anabel walked inside, shut the door behind her and marvelled at all the Victorian touches in the typically grand high ceilings. The place she shared with Isaac was no doubt worth more, but Anabel had felt uneasy about buying something so new when old was what she really preferred – more character.
“Hello, darling,” Susan bellowed, as Anabel walked into the kitchen.
“Now then, this place is cute,” she said, admiring the spacious kitchen, everything white and sparkling clean.
There was a pot on the stove bubbling with some kind of spicy stew, and drinks had already been poured – mojitos by the look of things. Anabel had been grinning for most of the week and was still grinning, at least outwardly. Her doubts were shelved, for the time being.
“Well, well, well,” said Susan, “someone looks like she got some. Come, come. Spill the beans.”
It was obvious what Susan was insinuating but Anabel had a shock for her. She allowed a grin to spread across her face, then she lifted her hand to show Susan the ring.
“He popped the question in Paris, just this past weekend. Apparently, he’d been planning it for ages. It was so romantic.”
The lies stacked up, but Anabel didn’t care. She knew Susan didn’t really want her to be happy and was playing up to that.
“What—” Susan seemed lost for words, blinking and appearing shocked. “So, you two made up? Or… I’m a little stunned. I didn’t expect this. I suppose we should toast.”
Susan passed a mojito to Anabel and they clinked glasses, then Susan threw hers back almost in one go. Anabel knew her alleged friend was digesting it slowly… and not well.
“We’re planning a
family, hopefully moving out of London. It’s insane but, I don’t know, maybe these things just suddenly happen, you know? It feels right.”
Susan swallowed hard and it was so noticeable, Anabel thought she might even choke.
Her eyes wide, she said between gritted teeth, “If you say so, Bel.”
Susan was in shock, it was clear. She was looking at the floor, still blinking fast, as though trying to come to terms with what she’d just heard.
“Don’t you think he means it?” asked Anabel.
Susan gave a manic chuckle. “I mean, just the other day you were telling me you were sex-starved and a few days later, you’re engaged!”
Anabel laughed like it was genuinely funny, because maybe it was – all of it – but the funniest thing was that she’d scuppered Susan, who’d expected her to turn up today with confessions of a filthy nature.
“Well, I’m certainly not sex-starved now. He’s been very different the past few days, since the engagement.”
In the back of her own mind, Anabel knew it was tactical to conveniently neglect to mention that he had in fact been as horny as a seaman ever since that conversation a few nights ago…
“Well, good luck to you. Honestly, Bel. You deserve to be happy. Now, if you’ll just excuse me a second.”
Susan left the room and seemed to head out towards where the bedrooms were located. While she was gone, Anabel noticed Susan’s phone left on the kitchen counter.
Not sure how long she had before Susan got back, she decided not to brave a closer look. For all she knew, it was switched off, didn’t have any battery or was locked.
When Susan didn’t come back ‘in a second’ as she had promised, Anabel downed the rest of her drink and walked to the drinks tray to pour a couple more from the metal shaker.
It just so happened that as she stood in front of the tray pouring, the phone was positioned right nearby, and when it flashed with a new message, she looked down and read it.
Are you coming out to play tonight?
Bad Lover Page 4
