The Eunuch's Ward (The String Quartet)

by Smyth, Silver

  Hugh returned with a couple of cheese sandwiches, the leftovers from the French supply. ‘Wet footprints leading to the stairs, another set, equally wet, leading back. Me thinks a quick wee and a quick splash under the shower. Right, Of course I’m right. Have I told you about my time in the scouts?’

  ‘Wet hair, dripping wet corner of the towel where it got caught in the splash. Me thinks, a quick wee in the cloakroom and a splash under the garden hose. Right? Of course I’m right. Have I told you about my action holiday with the Brownies?’

  He was laughing down at me and I thought, there, another small hurdle overcome on the way to intimacy. I so wanted to say on the way to love, but I didn’t dare. I was too much in love already. Giving it its proper name was like tempting fate.

  By a mute agreement, we returned to the sofa. I was ravenous.

  ‘I’ll cook tonight,’ I declared recklessly. ‘What do you fancy?’

  Hugh’s disbelief was comical. ‘Are you telling me that all this time I was keeping a dog and barking myself?’

  I rammed my elbow into his ribs.

  ‘Ouch! No, seriously, what have you cooked? Have you ever cooked?’

  ‘Don’t know, but I must have done. There was that rhubarb crumble in Mrs. Whatshername’s class. Home economics. I brought it home and Bakir fed it to the security chaps with shop bought custard. I was twelve.’

  Hugh sighed with relief. ‘I thought so. We’ll go out tonight. Know anywhere good?’

  I shrugged, ‘There’s a place called The Beer Garden. I’ve seen it in passing a few times.’

  ‘Don’t like sausages. Or beer, for that matter. I’ll google something later.’ He licked the tips of his fingers and wiped them off into his towel sarong.

  ‘Maybe for the best,’ I conceded graciously. ‘I don’t think that I ever saw those security men again.’

  Neither had I ever before had a snack and mundane chat without a stitch on.

  ‘Right, what about you?’ Hugh stretched out and pulled me down next to him.

  My head immediately reclaimed its place on his chest. ‘I think that it’s quite safe to assume that I’m not an eligible heiress any longer. Someone would have told me by now if the situation improved over the past few days.’

  ‘Shucks. Have I lost my status of a gold digger, then?’

  ‘It would appear so, I’m afraid.’

  He kissed the top of my head. ‘Well, don’t know if that helps any, but I’m not planning on dumping you any time soon. But, more to the point, how do you feel about it?’

  How I felt about being poor certainly wasn’t more to the point than Hugh planning to stay with me. That was a ‘for richer, for poorer’ statement if ever there was one.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t even have the perception of not having whatever I wanted. Not that I’ve ever been very extravagant in my purchases or... or anything really. I could never see the point. What I wanted was freedom of life choices, not rows and rows of shoes and handbags.’

  I felt his lips on the top of my head again. ‘And that’s why you’re running away? Why now? Surely, of your dad loses his empire, he won’t be able to control you as much.’

  ‘He thinks that I’m the answer to all his problems.’ I still couldn’t tell him about the weirdest ever marriage proposal. How could I? I hadn’t decided how to go about it yet.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘I very much doubt it. He’s delusional. And when it comes to big business decisions, my mother is as much use as a chocolate fireguard.’ I stopped myself from mentioning drug abuse and Bakir’s part in it. ‘I know what he thinks he’s doing. I can see straight through him. He wants to make sure that I’m well provided for, and doesn’t care what it takes to achieve it.’

  ‘Can’t you talk it over with him?’

  ‘I’ve tried and I’ll try again if he lets me. I owe him loyalty, Hugh. I love him. He’s not the easiest of fathers, but he’s always done his best for his family. Or, at the very least, what he thought was the best. He’s a self-made man. He’s built his fortune all by himself; he’s used to trusting his own judgement. Until now, it served him well.’

  ‘Only, this time it hasn’t in your opinion. The first time when it involves you in a major way, you feel unable or unwilling to go along with it?’

  I just nodded. If I told him about my father’s ludicrous idea, Hugh may have easily assumed that my reluctance had something to do with him. What if he tried to make it easier for me and removed himself from the scene? That would be unbearable, as well as utterly untrue. Whoever Leon Ganis’ Nemesis was, he simply couldn’t have wanted to marry me, not even in malice. Why would he? If he wanted to make my father watch me suffer, there were a million other ways, simple ways, less legally and morally binding ways of achieving it.

  ‘What do your instincts tell you?’

  ‘To keep running and not look back.’

  ‘Then do that. Whatever you decide in the end, I’ll support you.’

  We fell silent. His blood was thumping evenly under my ear. The healthy beat fused with the rhythm of my own heart. Absurdly, while staring at the abyss, I felt a sense of calm and wellbeing. Years ago when I was visiting here with my mother I’d heard someone say that a little pup was eating well, drinking well, his nose was cold and wet, his tail was wagging, and he slept like a baby. I could say the same about me, except that it wasn’t my nose that was wet.

  I moved even closer to Hugh and lifted my left leg over his hip. As I knew it would be, there was a sizeable bulge under his terrycloth armour. It required only a slight pull at the top edge of the towel for it to come apart and his cock shoot out. I had never handled it before. I encircled it and with only a slight upward move I repositioned myself so that I was able to bring its head to the mouth of my cunt. They recognised each other immediately. The cock surged upwards straight away, but I expected that. Holding it firmly in my hand, I could feel all life beat through it. It was a fantastic instrument. I slid the head all the way up under the clitoral hood and held it there, rubbing my clit unhurriedly against it. The cock rapidly swelled up, as half my left breast sank into Hugh’s voracious mouth. His tongue and my nipple immediately replicated the passionate kiss between the clit and the cock. I could tell by Hugh’s breathing that he was struggling to keep up with the challenge. So was I. The amazing sensation wasn’t the only reason why I was prolonging the clit game. I knew full well that once I take this burgeoning, heavy shaft downwards, my cunt was going to suck it in however hard I tried to stop it. Especially when Hugh used his special trick of rubbing his fingers firmly up and down my bottom cleavage. I hadn’t even known that I was hiding a highly responsive erogenous zone there, just waiting to be discovered and used. But, I wasn’t going to lose the battle, not just yet. The manoeuvre was delicate and required subtle execution. Imperceptibly, my right hand took control of the passionate lovers clinch in between our legs, my left slid down to his balls. They felt magnificently weighty in my hand. Some primeval instinct led me to insert my middle finger between them to enhance the effect. ‘I just love orchids,’ I whispered hotly.

  Within seconds, I found myself flat on my back, my legs wrapped behind his neck, his cock deep inside me, thrusting with increasing speed and force, his balls banging into my perineum as if it were a punch bag.

  Perineum! Jesus! Such a boring word. But frankly, as long as those balls kept hammering into it, I couldn’t care less what it was called.

  * * *

  ‘You’ll get bored with me,’ I said in the evening over a plate of steak and chips in the pub. ‘My bedroom repertoire may get a little more varied in time, but I don’t think that I’ll ever develop a taste for something more exotic.’

  Hugh shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t bother me at all. Sex is like food. Good quality, fresh food doesn’t need complex or powerful sauces and marinades. It’s the nauseating blandness of inferior or stale cuts that needs enhancement and masking. My sexual drive has always been strong and healthy, as is yours. We’ll
never need whips, bondage or chocolate lick-offs to keep us going.’

  Laughing, we both leaned forward and our foreheads met in the middle. ‘All I want,’ he peeped into my eyes and winked, ‘is to be permanently parked inside you.’

  As we straightened up to resume our meal I yelped loudly enough for a woman at table behind Hugh to turn her head our way. But, when she saw nothing but me grinning, her attention returned to her steak and kidney. What had happened was that I’d felt Hugh’s bare big toe clamber up my leg, slide up my inner thigh, and moving the gusset to one side, caressed my cunt with cheeky confidence.

  I found that I couldn’t handle food and heavy petting at the same time.

  ‘Look here, Harry bloody Carrington. I if you don’t stop this I’ll do a real-life Sally in a minute. This table will be visited by tourists from...’ I had to stop when his toe paid yet another skilful visit to my clit.’

  ‘On one condition,’ he said, chewing on a lettuce. ‘How about we give shower a miss and share a bath tonight?’

  That night I went to sleep with the thought that I still had almost two days to make up my mind about returning to London. It felt like eternity.

  Chapter 17

  To my surprise, when I turned on the Skype on Thursday morning, Rosie was already online.

  ‘Where are you? And why so early? It’s not nine yet.’

  She looked fed up. ‘It may be nine there, it’s almost ten in Milan.’

  ‘How are you liking it so far?’

  ‘We only got here last night,’ Rosie shrugged. ‘Between Ela and bridezilla, I thought we were never going to leave. What’s up with you? I don’t think I know that room.’ Her head tilted a little to get a better view of my setting.

  ‘Tell you later. Why? What have Ela and Bruna been up to?’

  ‘It’s Bruna’s brother who’s paying for everything, so Bruna’s calling the shots. She got it into her head that she could buy Elizabeth Taylor’s very first wedding dress, from when she married into the Hilton family. It took a couple of days for her mum and the family solicitor or someone like that to convince her that she was being taken for a ride. And all that time, her bridesmaids squawking about in Portuguese like a flock of demented repeater rifles...’

  ‘Just because you can’t speak any foreign languages...’

  ‘Shut up, Nat. I’m not in the mood for love and peace on Earth and all that crap. And just when that ended, Ela only managed to lose her phone. I thought that those diplomatic kids were well savvy, but it turned out that there were a few sensitive numbers there, private numbers to the members of one or another royal family... oh, I don’t know... A lot of fuss and bother, and Ela in tears as if she was deliberately trying to topple the Ruritanian monarchy all on her own... Finally, Bruna’s jet brought us to Milan. Having seen the interior, I swear that jet runs on gold-plated fuel and caviar. And now we’re slumming it in two suites thrown together in some 15th century nunnery, sandwiched between two most famous shopping streets in the world. Bruna’s Italian shopping assistant presented herself about half an hour ago, and she’s currently busy making appointments for private viewings and consultations for the afternoon and tomorrow.

  ‘And you could live for three years on what it all costs just for a single night,’ I anticipated.

  ‘I could live for three years just on the tips...,’ Rosie agreed and laughed. ‘Never mind, it’s fun. What’s up with you?’

  I’d been dying to tell Rosie everything, but now I didn’t quite know where to start. If I voiced what was uppermost on my mind I’d be crushing the poor girl under a truckload of pure pornography. How could I tell her that only this morning I had been woken up by a fully erected cock penetrating me slowly from behind, and by male fingers stroking my delicately gilded crescent of pubic hair on their way to my clitoral hood. Nor could I casually inform her that Hugh was a grunter and I was a screamer. I didn’t believe him when he first told me, but Hugh had secretly recorded one of my orgasms and I sounded like a herd of hysterical sopranos. As we listened to it I watched Hugh’s relaxed cock rapidly stiffen up. I’d heard of a blow job and a hand job, but I decided on a cunt job instead. No, I didn’t take him inside me. I turned on my side, nestling my behind deep into his lap, brought his cock in between my legs, squeezed it hard in between the lips of my pussy, and drove up and down his growing shaft until the recording was replaced by a new live production.

  ‘Me?’ I blinked innocently a few times. ‘Oh, nothing much. I’m being sexually overactive in Paradise.’

  ‘With the boy from the next roof?’

  ‘Less of a boy,’ I protested. ‘This one is a man and there’s an awful lot of him.’

  Rosie wasn’t exactly frowning, but she looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, so you said. Mr. Well Endowed. You are using protection, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, of course. That’s a story in its own right. If I told you how... whose... never mind all that. Yes, I’m on the pill.’

  She nodded approvingly. ‘Where’s the Paradise? Your roof or his?’

  ‘Neither,’ I giggled. ‘At an undisclosed location in the UK. Let’s leave it at that.’

  At that point I held only one half of Rosie’s attention. Her head was turned away, enough to display and new haircut. Not bad. The blade that created that line must have cost a lot of money. Bridezilla’s treat, presumably.

  ‘Rafaela’s saying hello and wants to know when you’re joining us.’

  ‘I’m probably not, Rosie. Another long story,’

  ‘Your parents?’

  I shrugged. ‘My father. Something very weird’s going on. If the worse comes to the worst, can I take refuge at the Barbican? Are your parents still there?’

  ‘You’re very welcome, of course. How long for? I mean, they wouldn’t mind having you there anyhow, but about now they’re leaving on a three weeks tour of... can’t remember, Germany, I think. You can have the place to yourself. The porter can let you in. Is it that bad?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I squeaked. ‘Possibly worse. I may only need it till school’s back...’

  ‘You’ll be definitely coming back for the last year, then?’ Rosie sounded relieved.

  ‘If I’m spared,’ I tried a joke, but it didn’t come off. This wasn’t like me. I never dramatised anything. My anxiety must have run a lot deeper than I thought. If I survive! Survive what? Pull yourself together, Nat. ‘I don’t want to hang myself around Hugh’s neck before we’re both ready for it. It’s very early days...’

  Rosie frowned. ‘We’re overdue for a long heart to heart, Nat. I’ll...’

  Skype suddenly cut off. I waited for a minute, but the buffering wheel was churning over ominously. I logged out but not before I left a message for her:

  ‘Please don’t do anything, Rosie. Not on my account. My new experience is making me over-emotional. I’ll be perfectly fine. You two must promise me to enjoy yourselves and send a lot of photos. Say hello to Asha for me if you catch her online. Haven’t heard from her in ages. Xxx’

  * * *

  I spent the next half an hour trying to revive the sense of freedom and simple, domestic happiness. True enough, I was a disaster in the kitchen but I had some experience with cleaning. I’d vacuumed up my room at the String at least five times throughout the school year, and I did my best to take an ink stain out of the sofa bed there after a red pen had leaked out. Once I read up the instructions, loading the dishwasher was a doddle, and the vacuum cleaner was set for the stone floor anyhow. Hugh had cleaned up the cooker after he’d used it. That left only the crumbs and little splashes, mug rings and a few inexplicable ugly spots all over the work tops and the breakfast table. I read up the labels on various spray bottles under the sink, chose the one that seemed most appropriate for the job. The kitchen and dining room were gleaming, with the smell of chemical flowers wafting about. It was only then that I realised that good will and brute force were not enough. One needed experience as well. I should have done the tops before I’d cleaned the floor for
that was where most of the crumbs, cornflakes and burned bits ended up. Got the vacuum cleaner out again, then used the mop over the tricky areas for good measure, and that was it. I was done.

  I checked both my phones and the Skype again, expecting little and founding nothing. I felt a little guilty about giving the Sanctuary a miss, they were always short-handed and desperate for help, so after a few desultory turns around the garden, I picked up my grandmother’s almost dry overalls from the washing line and headed over to the animal kingdom.

  I was in luck. No dirty, smelly jobs today. Mrs Brackett needed someone to supervise the food and bedding deliveries. Thirty six items altogether, and each needed to be checked against the order lists.

  ‘Ever since the suppliers started using the drivers to double up as delivery boys, we’ve had to do their job for them,’ she whined. ‘Even a total fool should be able to recognise that the bedding for rabbits can’t be used for finches.’

  I didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of bedding finches might need, but I agreed.

  ‘I’ve missed your boyfriend yesterday,’ she continued in the same tone, as if that was my fault or a cunning plan. ‘Very good looking, as the three girls who were on duty yesterday and Wayne assure me.’

  Wayne was a member of regular staff, in charge of the coffee shop. Yes, I thought that Wayne had been quite impressed by Hugh yesterday. He pointed out that he’d put extra wrapping around the tuna bake in case of spillage, and held the door open on the way out. I didn’t think that was for my benefit.

  As luck would have it, deliveries went off smoothly and relatively quickly. I was done in just over an hour and was wondering whether to offer the blessed Wayne a break after the lunchtime rush of about five people wanting sandwiches and cold drinks from the cooling cabinet all at once when I saw Hugh running down the slope from the bungalow.

  ‘Let’s have some coffee.’ He kissed me quickly on the temple and with his arm around my shoulders continued in the direction that I’d been heading in.