No More Laters

by Coleen Singer

  "Oh, of course," she stammered, stepping back to let him past.

  She couldn't believe he was really there, standing in her lounge room. He looked even more magnificent than she remembered, and all the force of her love for him came flooding back with such power that it left her shaken.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, noting her sudden paleness.

  "I'm fine," she lied, sitting on the couch, afraid she otherwise might fall down. "But what are you doing here?"

  "Surprised to see me, eh?" he grinned, looking appreciatively around at the small but homely flat. "I was in Melbourne on business, and decided to take you out to dinner, that's all. Any objections?"

  "No, but…."

  "No buts. Where shall we go? I'm afraid I don't know my way around the big smoke all that well. What about somewhere near the beach? I don't get to see the ocean very often."

  "Um, well, there are some nice places in St. Kilda. We could go there."

  "Sounds good. Come on, then," he walked toward the door, but Jill was still sitting on the couch. "What's the matter? You don't have to change or anything, do you? You look fine to me."

  "No, it's just that I don't understand why you're here."

  "To take you out to dinner, but if we don't go soon, it'll have to be breakfast instead!"

  Jill knew he intended it as a harmless joke, but the thought of them having breakfast together and what might have happened during the night preceding, was too much. Leaping to her feet, she practically ran to her bedroom mumbling she just had to get her bag. Once inside and safely out of view, she struggled to pull herself together. Okay, so he'd appeared out of the blue to take her to dinner. She had no idea why, nor where Rachel might be, but that was his business.

  She felt she should be affronted by his arrogance in turning up like this, especially considering the circumstances the last time she'd seen him. For a moment, she contemplated simply throwing him out, but in the end her curiosity as to the reason for his unexpected arrival, and the opportunity for company instead of eating a meal by herself in front of the television won out. She ran a comb through her hair, fetched a jacket to keep out the chill evening air, promised herself she would keep her emotions in check and then returned to the lounge room.

  It was dark by the time they parked outside the restaurant, so the view of Port Phillip Bay was limited to that illuminated by the lights on the marinas and the reflection of the street lamps, but the evening autumn air was crisp and sticky with ocean and salt. Conversation in the ute had been restricted to directions and a full bulletin on Elizabeth's health, so as she studied the menu, Jill still had no idea why Michael had unexpectedly appeared at her door. Why had he come? Where was Rachel? When was the wedding?

  "See anything you fancy?" Michael asked.

  "The barramundi sounds nice," she answered, doubting whether she would be able to eat anything anyway, particularly as it had just occurred to her that he might be about to issue her with a personal invitation to his wedding. She knew she'd be expected to attend. It would be an ordeal almost beyond endurance to see him joined in marriage to another woman, but an ordeal it would be difficult to avoid.

  "Is that all right with you?"

  "What?" She looked up startled, realizing she'd been so lost in her thoughts, she had no idea what he'd just said.

  "I'm having the fish too, so I ordered a Cape Mentelle sauvignon to go with it. If that's all right with you, that is. I just asked if you knew it. Although there doesn't seem much point in consulting you anyway. I don't seem to have your undivided attention tonight."

  "I was just wondering when the wedding is." The words came tumbling out before Jill could stop them, but she was relieved the question was out in the open.

  "What wedding?" Michael's face darkened.

  "Your wedding," she whispered. "Yours and Rachel's."

  "Never."

  "Never?" She repeated it as though it was a word she'd never heard before.

  "That's right. Never. The engagement's off. Now, let's talk about something else, shall we? Tim for instance?"

  "Tim?" She looked at him blankly. "Why Tim?"

  "Well, I just thought as you'd asked about Rachel, I'd ask about Tim. Still staying over, is he? At least when he brings chicken and champagne?"

  There was a pause in the conversation as the wine waiter gave Michael a drop of the wine to approve, then filled their glasses.

  "So?" Michael repeated when the waiter had left. "Is he still staying over or are you deliberately avoiding the question?"

  "He hasn't stayed since before Christmas and, as I keep telling you, he always stayed in the spare room!"

  "Well, I'm not sure you quite told me that before," he grinned infuriatingly. "So what's happened? He find someone with a more comfortable spare room? Maybe you should check the mattress in that spare bed."

  "Listen," she told him through gritted teeth. She'd promised herself she'd remain cool but she'd forgotten how maddeningly impossible he could be, and it was taking every ounce of her strength not to throw her glass of wine at him. "I could've had a pleasant evening at home by myself instead of coming here to be insulted by you. So, if you're going to keep on being a prick, I'd prefer it if you just took me home."

  "Oh, I'll take you home all right, after we've finished dinner. And your petulant outburst just then and your bad language, not to mention calling me names, means that when I've got you back to your place, I shall be putting you across my knee and giving that lovely bare bottom of yours a good spanking. I was so hoping you'd give me a reason to spank you, and as usual you haven't let me down." He grinned smugly and infuriatingly. "I think you enjoy it as much as I do, you know, Roo."

  "I do not," Jill snapped, dismayed to feel her cheeks flush with warmth. How had she let this happen? "And, no, you won't. Never again."

  "Yes, I will and you know I will, and any dissent from you will just give me cause to spank you harder, so I'd be careful if I were you. I was only showing the same interest in your personal life as you were in mine."

  "I didn't mean to pry." Jill felt her blush deepen, unable to deny the truth in his carefully worded barb. She could also hear an annoying tell-tale quaver in her voice. As much as she told herself that he had no right to spank her and she would make that clear to him later once and for all, the memory of past spankings and the thought of him putting her over his knee and slipping down her panties later tonight had sent a familiar thrill of excitement through her. Forcing herself not to think about that for the moment, she added "It's just . . ."

  "Just what?"

  "Just that the last time I saw you, you were engaged to Rachel and then suddenly without a word in the meantime you turn up out of the blue and, well, I guess you took me by surprise, that's all. And, you're still wrong about Tim and me."

  "I seem to remember him expressing a certain interest in you," Michael mentioned casually, but Jill could see the shadow in his eyes.

  "He might have given it a passing thought at Christmas, but I told him at the dance that we'd never be more than friends, and actually I think he was a bit relieved. In fact, I know he is now. He has a lovely girlfriend and he's very happy."

  "Tim has a girlfriend?" His tone was casual but there was something lurking in his eyes which, try as she might, Jill was unable to read.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, he does. Her name's Gaye, and she works with us at the paper."

  Michael's expression softened and the glint of amusement reappeared in his dark velvet eyes.

  "Okay, let's call a truce. Rachel and I are no longer engaged. She's in Spain being courted, I believe, by a rich Italian count and Tim's off who knows where so, now we've got that sorted out, let's change the subject."

  "Can I ask one more question, please?" Unwilling as she was to give him further reason to threaten her with a spanking, she had to know the answer. He didn't speak, merely raised one eyebrow, but taking this as tacit consent, she hurried on before she lost her nerve. "What happened? I mean between you a
nd Rachel."

  "I couldn't go through with it," he began, his voice flat and hard, and Jill noticed the tic in his right temple had started up, as it did when he became tense. After a moment's silence, he shrugged. "It was a mistake from the beginning. The families were keen, and I guess I'd always assumed I'd marry one day. Rachel seemed as good as anyone. From her point of view… actually I'm not sure what her reasons were." He laughed shortly, but without mirth. "I'm fairly sure grand passion didn't come into it for either of us. Anyway, we quickly realized we'd made a mistake, but she wasn't all that keen on appearing around town as the jilted bride, so we kept up the pretence until she went to Spain a few weeks ago. Once she was safely out of sight, she wasted no time in writing to her parents that she'd met a rich count and the engagement was off."

  "So you appeared to be the jilted party?"

  "Yes, but that's not important. I'm just glad the whole business is over with." He paused and looked at her intently, then, with another casual shrug of his shoulders, added carelessly, "I guess I'm just not the marrying kind."

  "Oh." Despite his feigned indifference, Jill had seen a flash of pain behind his eyes and was sure he had been on the verge of saying something quite different. She couldn't imagine what it could be, but at least she knew now that she could enjoy her dinner without worrying that an outraged Rachel might appear in the doorway. The image made her giggle, and seeing her amusement made him smile, too.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "Nothing really," she answered. "Tell me about the farm. How are Jack and Dave?"

  The tension between them quickly dissipated as Michael told her the news from the farm. He'd already reassured her about Elizabeth's health, but now added that she planned to ask Vicky and Alistair to help out on the farm for a couple of weeks after the baby was born so Jack and she could take a holiday. Dave had moved to town to be closer to his job, but would still help with the farm work whenever he could, so it would be more or less a holiday for the new parents, except for cooking and some light housework.

  With only a small amount of encouragement from Jill, Michael then opened up about the farm and his plans for its future. As Jill listened, she marvelled again at how deep was his love for River Gums, and taking care not to be obvious, she allowed herself to study him as closely as possible. She wanted to imprint on her memory, every feature, every tiny line on his face, every unique little mannerism, everything she could so she would be able to keep as much as possible with her when he was gone.

  At one point, he ran his hand through the heavy lock of hair that fell waywardly across his forehead. It was longer than it had been at Christmas, and as he pushed it back he caught her watching and grinned.

  "I bet you're thinking I need a haircut, eh?"

  "No, I was thinking how beautiful it is," Jill replied honestly.

  "Really?" He was surprised.

  "Yes." She coloured, embarrassed at her openness; the words had been out before she'd realized. "It's so thick and glossy. I suppose it is quite long, and maybe you do need a haircut, but I like it the way it is." She stopped with a jolt as he reached out and covered her hand with his.

  "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me. Not counting Mum, of course," he added with a gentle smile, and as Jill looked into his eyes, what she saw there told her beyond doubt that if she wanted him to, he would spend the night with her.

  As though the electricity that jolted through her at the thought was real, she snatched her hand away. Dewdrops of perspiration collected on her brow and her insides melted into a churning liquid ache. Sensing her reaction, Michael calmly resumed his meal, and turned the conversation back to general things, asking her about her work. Jill responded enthusiastically, glad of the respite and the chance to collect herself.

  As she told him about her newfound prowess as a journalist, her mind silently explored the possibility of spending the night in his arms. "I guess I'm not the marrying kind," he'd said, and he'd certainly made it clear that there was no point in her harbouring any dreams of a future with him, but could she endure one night of passion with him? Or, more aptly, could she endure the rest of her life without it? Her love for him was consummate. It was beyond sense, beyond morality, beyond convention, existing only in emotion, and she knew she would take of him whatever she could get. Tomorrow, the grey light of dawn with its cold sensibleness would arrive come what may, but she would at least have one beautiful memory to sustain her.

  Strange, though the idea was thrilling and even frightening, once her decision was made, she felt totally relaxed. She smiled at him, and his eyes told her he understood.

  "Would Sir or Madam like coffee?" the waiter asked as he cleared away the plates.

  Michael looked at her questioningly.

  "Why don't we have coffee at my place," she suggested, managing to keep her voice steady.

  "I'd like that," he answered, his voice low and his eyes holding hers, but she met his gaze without flinching. "No, thank you. Just the bill, please," he told the waiter.

  Neither spoke on the drive back to the flat, but although the silence was charged with expectations of what was to come, it was not uncomfortable. Jill was barely inside, before Michael pushed the door shut and pulled her into his arms. That first long sweet kiss was like no other they'd ever shared. There was no surprise, no hesitation, just their mouths melting together with undisguised honesty, as they wordlessly spoke to each other in a way they'd not done in the past. The next kiss would be ruled by their passion, but when Michael drew back from that first deep, gentle union, he refrained from taking her mouth again.

  "What?" she asked, nervously, sure from the kiss that all was right between them but suddenly apprehensive as he took her hand and led her away from the door and into the centre of the room.

  "First things first," he smiled gently.

  "Shall I make some coffee?" she asked, suddenly overcome with shyness and uncertainty about what was expected of her. But she needn't have worried. Michael was used to being in charge of situations.

  "I'm happy without," he said. "Would you like some?"

  Jill shook her head. It was him she wanted. Coffee she could have anytime. Right now, she didn't want to waste one precious second not touching or being touched by him.

  "Okay, then," he kissed her gently "why don't you go and get ready for bed." It was a statement, not a question.

  Her fingers trembling, her heart pounding, Jill went into her bedroom and changed from her dress into a nightie. She removed her bra, but left her white, lacy bikini pants on under the short pink baby doll nightie she had had hidden in her drawer but had never worn. Then, after cleaning her teeth and brushing her hair, she stood shyly in the doorway between the lounge room and the bedroom. Michael had his back to her, and as she looked at him, the sound of Mozart filled the room. The happy music reflected the joy and gladness in her heart, as Michael sensed her presence and turned towards her. She quavered before the naked look of desire she saw in his eyes, but her love gave her the strength to stand firm as he strode towards her.

  Half squatting, he wrapped his powerful arms around her hips and lifted her up against him, crushing her mouth with his as he carried her to the bed. Instead of lying her on it, as she expected though, he set her down next to it and then sat on the edge.

  "Your spankings," he gruffly answered her unspoken question. "The first for swearing, the second for pleasure."

  Jill didn't resist as he pulled her across his knee and positioned her the way he liked. She still barely understood it, but she knew instinctively that to submit to him, to offer herself to his authority and accept his punishment, gave them both a very deep and primal pleasure that couldn't be attained any other way. She moaned gently as he raised her nightie and she felt his strong, workman's hand gently caress her bottom, tenderly squeezing the pale, cool translucent cheeks that he would soon turn into fiery red balls.

  Without speaking, he raised his hand and brought it down, over and over again
in a flurry of hard, fast spanks. She was shocked. She'd imagined he was going to spank her slowly and sensuously, not distractedly and punishingly, but before she had time to do more than kick and wail in surprise and agony, he stopped.

  "Don't call me a prick again, okay naughty girl?" He said as his hand now lay still on her stinging bottom.

  "I won't!" she cried earnestly.

  "No, I rather think you won't, once I've made the point a little more convincingly."

  "Please, no more!" Jill gasped and wriggled, realizing it wasn't yet over.

  "Keep still, and we'll get this over with quicker," he ordered gruffly. "You look like an angel," he said slowly, matching his words with sharp cracks of his hand against her stinging cheeks, "and it doesn't suit you at all to use words like that."

  "I don't usually," the poor, semi-distraught girl wailed as her mind became clouded by a red mist of pain. "Please, Michael, I won't ever swear again, I promise!"

  "Well, perhaps this will serve as a reminder," he muttered, gathering her closer, and holding her firmly as his hand became a blur of punishing smacks.

  Draped across his hard thighs, Jill cried out over and over, whether from the pain in her bottom or the pain in her heart, she couldn't tell. She'd thought he would be gentle and tender tonight, and instead he was spanking her as hard and as calculatedly as if there had never been an unspoken agreement that they were going to make love.

  At last his hand stopped punishing her and began to gently rub some of the sting from her inflamed flesh. "Do you want to call me a prick again, Roo?"

  "No, never," she gasped and with deep conviction, unsure whether it was over or he was about to start again. Tears welled in her eyes. It hadn't been a nice spanking at all. It had been horrid. And it hurt badly.

  "Well, you'd better not because if you do I will spank you twice as hard next time. Okay?"

  "Yes, Michael. I won't," she promised, more miserable from disappointment than the now abating sting.

  "Good. Because I don't want to spank you any more for punishment tonight. So if you promise to mind your mouth in future, I'll consider that sufficient."