Obsession

by Cathryn Cooper

  He turned round, shouted out in time to see the two women hurrying across the road in front of an oncoming tram before disappearing into a store. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. It seemed a lame thing to do.

  They were already out of sight among the milling throng, but still he had to run after them.

  ‘Hey there!’ He waved his silver-tipped walking stick as he shouted, and without looking stepped into the road. There was the immediate screech of brakes, the jangling of a tram and excited shouting and screaming.

  Next minute, he was lying in the road, his coat tom, his hat lost, and his stick broken in two beside him. A sea of faces was looking down at him, and a babble of voices was asking if he was all right. Just as Imran’s face came into view, he passed out.

  Katie had been dumbstruck when Mister Webster had told her that her employment was ended.

  After lying with Gareth in the forest and letting him do what he wanted to do, he’d been uncommonly kind and affectionate to her.

  ‘All’s not lost. He’ll take you back, squib. He’s like that at times - not knowing whether he’s coming or going. All I can say about it is, that whoever he came across the other night at the abbey certainly had a remarkable effect on him!’

  Gareth, besides being an imaginative lover, could be very kind, and also very truthful.

  ‘I’ll miss you meself, squib.’

  It had made her smile even though her thoughts were occupied. ‘Perhaps,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘he’ll miss me, more if you keep reminding him of my existence. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.’

  Gareth eyed her with undisguised admiration. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  He meant it, and together they worked out all the ways in which Gareth could niggle Carew into remembering her face, her figure and everything she had done since coming to Thompson Towers.

  ‘Promise you won’t let me down, Gareth.’

  He’d smiled, and the fingers of both hands had run from her cheeks to her breasts. ‘I won’t. You can be sure of that, squib. But if I’m successful, you know there’ll be a price to pay.’

  Gently, he had taken each nipple into his mouth and, to her surprise, she had found herself aroused because it was Gareth, rather than pretending that it was Carew.

  ‘Now,’ she said, quelling her desires out of necessity rather than wanting to. ‘I will give you my address and my telephone number. Get in touch with me there if he should change his mind. But do not - and I repeat - do not give it to anyone else. Is that clear?’

  She knew he was looking at her with adoration - a bit like Phoebe did. She also knew he would do whatever she said.

  It felt strange to be wearing a skirt again and walking along in the sunshine past the shops with Phoebe clinging onto one arm. They had already done a fair bit of shopping and had arranged to pick their purchases up later.

  Phoebe wanted to go for tea and cakes and at every opportunity she brought up the subject. Katie remained non-committal and Phoebe began losing patience.

  ‘You are very quiet, Katie darling.’

  ‘I can’t help it. I keep thinking of what Carew must be feeling.’ And of what I’m feeling, she thought to herself, but did not disclose how unsettled she was to her friend.

  Self-consciously, she reached up and pressed her cloche hat more tightly upon her head. It had fitted perfectly when her hair had been thicker and longer. Now, because her hairstyle so readily aped the shape of her hat, it had acquired the habit of gently working its way off her head.

  ‘Why don’t you come clean, darling, tell him that you are a woman?’

  Katie snorted. ‘What! And let him treat me the same as he does those other women. No! I will not do that. I won’t!’

  But should I tell him? she asked herself. Should I tell him that it was my behind he crushed against the stone walls of the abbey ruins?

  She sighed. How I wish that could happen all over again. How I wish I had told him then. But he’d been drunk. There had been no guarantee that he would remember.

  Again, her hat threatened to escape from her head, so again - a little more angrily this time - she hit it back on.

  As she did it, she glanced up. Blue eyes; sharp, blue eyes. Immediately, she recognised to whom they belonged.

  He stared and stopped in his tracks. She stared too but quickened her step.

  ‘Did you see him?’ she muttered as she gripped the arm of the surprised Phoebe and hurried her along. ‘Who?’

  ‘Him! Carew!’

  ‘What?’

  Phoebe attempted to halt and look over her shoulder. ‘No!’ cried Katie. ‘Don’t stop. Don’t let him notice that we saw him.’

  ‘But you could tell him...’

  ‘No! Leave things as they are. Let him seek me. That’s the way it has to be!’

  In a crush of bodies, they disappeared into a busy store that seemed to be selling things for no more than sixpence a time

  ‘This is Woolworths,’ said Phoebe, and her eyes opened wide as she surveyed the packed counters and the crush of customers impatient to buy. ‘I think,’ she said, with a hint of wonder, ‘this is what the Americans call the dime store.’

  Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Katie hurried her along. Finally, Phoebe rebelled.

  ‘I want to shop,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘No. Not now. This is not the right time!’

  ‘It is for me!’ Phoebe got loose.

  ‘Why now?’ sighed Katie, wishing her friend could have chosen a more suitable occasion to become rebellious rather than just because she had fallen in love with a store. But she had to follow.

  She looked over her shoulder again. Only people with faces she did not recognise floated between her and the doors to the street outside.

  As Phoebe pushed her way to the next counter, Katie smiled to herself. Providence had worked for her again. Seeing her had made him stop in his tracks. He had not, she guessed, recognised her as being one and the same with the boy Oliver, but she was pretty sure she had reminded Carew of him. She was also sure that soon, Gareth would be in contact with her.

  A few days went by before anything happened. Katie was back in her home which was a Regency town house with a fanlight over a solid front door not far from Holland Park. It had neat windows of four panes each and shutters painted in the same green as the front door. The rest of the house was painted white.

  ‘Virginal,’ Phoebe had stated with a laugh when she’d first had it done. ‘Hardly you, darling girl.’

  ‘Practical,’ Katie had replied. ‘It reflects sunlight, so I stay cool in summer. The stone walls keep me warm in winter. It reminds me of Sorrento and Capri. Warm sun, cool breezes.’

  ‘A hot man!’ quipped Phoebe.

  ‘Or two,’ Katie had returned.

  The house had been left to her by an understanding aunt, an early stalwart of women’s rights, but sensitive with it. She had known that, like her, Katie was a woman who would not tolerate being shunted into marriage purely to gain somewhere nice to live. Her creed had been that if a woman wanted to support herself, then she should be allowed to do so. Thus, the house had been left to her.

  It was a Wednesday evening and rain was streaming down the Regency windows. Dark clouds were changing evening to night when Gareth came knocking on the door.

  Phoebe, recovered from her cheapskate shopping, had invited herself to stay, purely on the off-chance that something might happen and she was loath to miss anything. The moment Gareth knocked, they both knew something was about to happen.

  Gareth dripped rain over the green lino in the white hallway. His umbrella leaked water into the brass tray at the bottom of the bamboo stand.

  His face lit up when he saw Katie wearing make-up and a very short skirt.

  ‘You’ve got legs just like a woman!’ he e
xclaimed.

  ‘What did you expect? Legs like a horse?’

  He only grinned.

  ‘Shall I get you some tea?’ asked Phoebe. She draped herself in the doorway as she said it, her eyes raking over the sodden clothes that clung provocatively to a firm male body.

  Shivering, but beaming, he returned her look as he replied.

  ‘Something stronger would sit better on me.’

  Katie caught the sparkle in his eyes and felt the warmth that seemed to be seeping through the wetness of his clothes.

  She nodded at Phoebe. ‘Port would be best.’

  She touched Gareth’s arm as she spoke to him. ‘Well? Does he want me to come back?’ It was hard not to sound too keen, hard also not to grip him too hard. She felt his muscles bunch and harden.

  ‘I think so. According to Imran, he saw some woman in town who looked like you. Unhinged him a bit it did, him being as he is at the present time.’

  Katie frowned and, as if she felt a sudden draft, she wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders. ‘As he is! What are you talking about?’

  ‘The accident. Apparently, he saw these two women, one of whom reminded him of you. Ran after them, he did, or rather, he didn’t. Took no more than two or three steps, and was knocked down by a tram. Tore him up a bit it did. So he’s been lying around thinking, and it’s you he’s been thinking of - or rather, the boy, Oliver.’

  Feeling for its sides, Katie sat herself down in a square tub chair that was as white as the walls but banded with dark green braid. She no longer saw the room. No longer saw the people in it. She was shivering slightly and her mouth was open.

  Carew had had an accident and, to some extent, it was her fault.

  Phoebe, having heard everything, was stood by the door.

  ‘I’ll get three glasses,’ she said, and dived back towards the drinks’ cabinet.

  By the time they were on their third port, Gareth had told everything there was to tell about the accident.

  He grinned suggestively. ‘He’s alright, squib. Don’t you be fretting about the man. He’ll survive.’

  ‘And he asked for me.’ Knowing that calmed her in one way, but made her excited in another.

  Gareth shook his head. ‘Not exactly. It was Imran Jaffar’s idea.’

  For the second time that evening, Katie frowned as she looked at him. ‘Imran? Why was that?’

  ‘You’ll get wrinkles,’ said Phoebe. ‘Frowning like that.’

  ‘Shut up, Phoebe. I want to hear more.’ Taken aback, Phoebe winced as Katie leaned closer to Gareth, so close that their knees were almost touching. ‘What has Imran got to do with me going back?’

  Gareth shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. All I do know is that Imran was convinced it would do Mister Carew good for you to be there. The Indian was having no truck with me - said I didn’t know where you lived. Called me a liar, he did.’

  Temporarily, Gareth looked peeved, but the look did not last.

  ‘So I said I would get to you.’ A smile spread over his face. ‘I came.’

  ‘You can see and conquer as well if you like, Gareth darling.’ Phoebe had recovered from being slighted and was sipping her wine. Despite everything, her eyes had not left the best bits of Gareth’s body. She was brazen about it - brazen and enticing.

  Hot little bitch, thought Katie, and looked from her friend to Gareth Rawlings.

  As she turned over what he had said in her mind, Phoebe placed her hands on either side of Gareth’s head and clamped her mouth to his. As she kissed him, her strong hands peeled back what was left of his wet clothes and exposed his chest.

  Katie smiled and reached out to join her friend. Together, they peeled the very last of Gareth’s wet clothes from his body until he stood naked before them, his penis already hard and ready.

  ‘Poor you. How cold you still are.’

  Katie, who was stood behind him, rubbed the warmth of her belly against the hardness of his buttocks. She warmed the dampness of his back with the warmth of her lips and her hands.

  ‘And how well we could warm you, my darling man.’ Phoebe said, as close to Gareth’s chest as Katie was to his back. Like a cat anticipating its favourite fish, she purred and moved close against him so that her nipples pouted through her robe and his stiff member divided its front folds and headbutted her pudendum.

  Her lips sucking at his neck, Katie tasted his salty masculinity.

  ‘Phoebe’s right,’ she murmured between kisses that made his flesh tremble. ‘She and I will warm you.’ Knowingly, Phoebe smiled at Katie, then up at Gareth.

  ‘Come,’ she said in a sweet and sexy voice. ‘I will lead you to our favourite room.’

  Rather than taking his hand as he might have expected, Gareth gasped as Phoebe boldly gripped his erect penis and led him towards the stairs.

  Behind him, Katie’s fingers dug into his buttocks as she manoeuvred him in the same direction. He cried out sharply as one stray nail dug into his cleft before his muscles closed tightly over it.

  His breathing became more audible as he climbed the stairs and went where they wanted him to go.

  Shivering slightly from the damp that still lay cold upon his body, Gareth slid between the heavy covers of Katie’s bed, which was wide and made of brass with large white china knobs at each corner. Fine chains fell from these and tinkled as, sighing with expectation, he nestled down and pulled the covers over him.

  As Katie and Phoebe undressed, Gareth took in the details - or rather - the one overriding detail of’ the room.

  The carpet was white, the walls were white. Such uniform whiteness gave him the impression that the room was made of paper, just waiting for colour to be added. It was an incorrect judgement for, occupying a long, high mantle, was a large bronze statue of a naked and reclining man. A naked woman stood at his head, another at his feet. Both held whips picked out in brass. Brass manacles bound the man’s wrists, ankles and neck, and yet, he looked joyous rather than destroyed at their hands.

  Gareth stared at it and would have gone on staring if his gaze hadn’t been drawn by the now naked Katie and Phoebe who pulled back the bedcovers, then slid into bed beside him.

  How cold he feels, but how hot some parts remain, Katie noted as her hand met Phoebe’s around his virile stem.

  He moaned as they pressed their nakedness against his; their fingers explored him. Softly, they trailed through his pubic hair, stroked his rigid member from tip to base, then went on to explore the softness between his legs.

  Katie’s fingers left his penis and, with her palm flat, she ran her hand up over his groin, his stomach and his chest before dropping it back to take hold of his wrist.

  She rained kisses on his face. Her nipples were taught; her flesh trembling.

  Gareth was beginning to frown. He attempted to speak, but Katie covered his mouth with her own.

  Phoebe, aware of what was to come, and concerned that Gareth would not protest, used her initiative. She kissed his belly, licked her way through his profuse pubic hair. Soon, his penis was throbbing in her mouth.

  As she clipped the slim brass manacle around his wrist, Katie sucked fiercely on his lips and used her free hand to push Phoebe’s head more directly onto him.

  ‘Do you like this?’ Katie asked.

  His frown disappeared.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he replied between gasps of quickening breath.

  ‘Can we do with you as we please?’ she asked, smiling and kissing his parted lips, her hand now taking his other wrist - pausing to await his answer before that too was clipped by the other brass manacle.

  He groaned and jerked his hips up towards Phoebe’s mouth before replying.

  ‘Yes. Oh yes!’

  ‘Then, my darling Gareth, you are all mine.’

 
Accordingly, she clipped the manacle around his wrist then, cupping his face in her hands, looked lovingly into his eyes. Her tongue penetrated his mouth as she kissed him.

  Shivers of excitement ran through her body as she looked at her captive man. He was hers to do with as she pleased, yet he did not know it or, knowing it, did not care. Like Carew, she thought to herself, I am truly like Carew. The blonde in the dining hall, Prissy, and the clutch of girls at the shoot, came to mind. Carew had used them, just as she had used Gareth and was using him now. And, like Carew, she was thoroughly enjoying it.

  She reached down and tapped Phoebe on the top of her fair head.

  Her friend let the upright penis slide from her mouth. They pulled the bedclothes don to the bottom of the bed and fastened Gareth’s ankles as securely as Katie had fastened his wrists.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Gareth’s voice wavered, and so did his erection - but only from side to side as if looking for what might happen next. It was still firm, wet and shiny from the ministrations of Phoebe’s mouth.

  Katie exchanged smiles with Phoebe. Then, with sure purpose in their actions, they knelt on the bed, their bottoms upended and near Gareth’s face.

  Phoebe giggled as both her and Katie wiggled their bottoms and bent their heads to his groin. They slid their hands beneath him; Katie’s hands on one buttock, Phoebe’s on the other.

  As before, Phoebe took Gareth’s member into her mouth, sighing as she slid her lips down as far as she could go.

  Katie, ever the mistress of the piquant and the delicate, bent her head so that her mouth was on his scrotum, which she licked, sucked and nipped gently.

  Coupled with his cries of ecstasy, Gareth arched his back and thrust his pelvis upwards. As he thrust, the hands that enveloped his behind gripped him more firmly so that one cheek was parted from the other.

  As two fingers negotiated his smallest orifice, he arched his back more violently, cried out and raised his head in the direction of Katie’s exposed pussy which was so near, yet so far from his mouth.