Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play

by Sydney Jamesson

  With the earthquake over, I reflect on the night’s events. Thank God he revealed enough about himself to allow me to see through all that pretence. Just imagining life without him makes my entire body stiffen.

  When I turn to face him, he’s gazing up at the ceiling. I position my head next to his and adopt the same position. “What are we looking at?”

  “Nothing, I’m thinking.” His left arm wraps around me and I snuggle into his clammy chest, flattening the hairs under my nose.

  “Oh? Good thoughts?”

  He turns to face me. “Yes, very good thoughts, thoughts of you and me, together.” I see a sensual smile. “I enjoyed the make-up sex.”

  “Me too.” I feel his hand brushing hair off my forehead, he’s examining my face so carefully it causes a wave of emotion to flood through me. “Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

  “I was just thinking how I’d like to spend tomorrow with you.”

  I smile and stroke his face, but I’m remembering the promise I made to Jake about Ayden’s crucial trip to L.A. “He’ll be there,” I said confidently. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to flaunt my powers of persuasion? Here’s Ayden talking about spending the day in bed as if he has nothing better to do.

  “I can’t take the day off Ayden, we break-up for half term in two days and I have lots to do before then.” I plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “But it’s a lovely idea though.”

  “Fine, I’ll take a rain check. But I just thought, after our misunderstanding, we should spend more time together, so I could make it up to you.”

  He looks a little too repentant for my liking. “I thought you just did?” I sit up and rest my hand on his heart. “I know what’s in here, I see it in the way you look at me, I feel it in the way you make love to me. So, we’re good. Stop apologising. You’re forgiven.”

  Two simple words fall from his mouth like the ticking of a clock: he has perfect timing. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You have such a sweet nature Beth, you didn’t have to forgive me. You’re soft on the outside and on the inside: a gentle genie wrapped in velvet.” I feel his chest rumbling beneath my hand as he laughs at the absurdity of his description. “I’m no different than everyone else. I’m drawn to your gentleness like the sea to the shore. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to.”

  “That’s a very romantic thing to say Ayden.”

  He tips his head. “I have my moments.”

  “Yes you do.” I stretch across his body to caress his lips with my own. “But, along with the tides, the world keeps revolving Ayden. The last thing I want is to turn you into a love-sick puppy.” I shrug my shoulders and arch my brows, leaving him silent and bewildered.

  “Imagine that, me a love-sick puppy?” He’s shaking his head in disbelief, stifling laughter.

  “I want you to be the media mogul you are and do what comes naturally, to be yourself.”

  “I am myself when I’m with you, more than at any other time,” he states with total conviction.

  “Then stop apologising, go and be masterful and order some Thai food. I need to shower.” I leap from the bed and scoot off into the bathroom, leaving him to ponder and, hopefully reconsider going to L.A.

  I’m in the shower, making the most of precious time to myself. I’m considering the state of play, doubting there is little I can say or do to persuade him to change his mind: he’s not a man to be easily swayed. When it comes to business, he means what he says and he says what he means, 100% of the time. What was I thinking, making assurances to a stranger about a man who already feels the need to demonstrate his commitment to me?

  Just when I’m about to reach for a towel, the door of the shower cubicle opens and I feel a gloriously naked torso against my back. Hot hands are slithering around my foam covered body, smothering my breasts in bubbles and easing their way down to my stomach. He pulls me tightly to him with his outstretched left hand while the other follows the flow of water to my thighs. I rest my hand on his and follow the flow.

  “Don’t you smell nice.” His nose delves into my wet hair and finds a resting place beneath my ear.

  “Don’t you feel nice?” I lean forward slightly, enjoying the sensation of his growing erection against the base of my back.

  He’s insatiable!

  “As commanded, I’ve ordered Thai food. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Don’t tempt me …

  “Nothing comes to mind at the moment.”

  His fingers deftly find my clitoris and rouse it into responsiveness, zeroing in on sensitive nerve endings with the accuracy of an Exocet missile. “Are you sure?”

  “You’re very skilled at changing my mind Mr. Stone.”

  “This is true Miss Parker.” He sucks on my ear lobe, sending such a delicious shudder of delight through my body that it has me folding onto his hand. He whispers softly. “Put both hands on the wall.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do as you’re told missy, you’ll see.”

  I obey. The tiles are slippery to touch and it’s difficult to find purchase, but I can duck away from the shower and enjoy the feel of the steaming cascade as it caresses my shoulders. This is turning into a very erotic experience and we’ve only just begun. “What are you planning to do?”

  A steaming whisper tickles my ear. “Number one, to give you an orgasm. Number two, to take you from behind and number three …”

  “Yes?” What’s happening to my voice?

  “Three. To eat Thai food.”

  The steam catches in my throat. “That sounds like a plan.”

  “Yes it does. I love it when a plan comes together … you’re close.”

  How does he know that?

  “Yes.”

  “Sit down.”

  What?

  He’s senses my surprise. “Sit down onto me …”

  I slowly lower myself, feeling the prod of his erection against my steaming folds, my skin tingling at his touch. I’m drowning in ecstasy.

  A primitive groan leaves his throat and vibrates around the cubicle. I’m tipping back my head, and the spray is finding my cheeks, making them prickle and burn: I’m on fire, inside and out. How can he take the weight of us both and balance me with one hand while the other teases me into an orgasmic surrender? This man has skills.

  He edges nearer to my neck and I want to lift my hands off the wall and touch him, to participate in this steamy, fucking event, but I daren’t. I have my orders.

  “You still want me to go to L.A?”

  Oh no. Now he isn’t playing fair…

  I can’t speak. Every time I’m about to, he doubles his efforts and shatters my resolve with inexorable pounding. My knees are buckling, I’m folding, letting go, allowing the ripples of molten lava to ignite me. My hands fall from the wall and I drop onto him, calling out his name. “Ayden.”

  “I’m here.” He responds to my cry and finds his noisy release; he comes inside me, straining to keep his balance. At that moment, the cubicle door flies open and he tumbles backwards onto the bathroom floor in a most undignified fashion.

  When I turn to check he’s ok, I am met with an unmistakably, shocked expression that touches a nerve and causes me to laugh out loud. Without a stitch on and royally fucked, I can’t control myself. As hard as I try, I cannot contain my amusement. The fact of the matter is, I have an Adonis of a man lying flat on his back on my bathroom floor, wearing nothing but a used condom and an embarrassed smile. That look is priceless.

  My fingers are trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back laughter. “Are you alright?” The floor is slippery and he stumbles to get up, making me laugh even more.

  Oh dear!

  I think he’s having trouble seeing the funny side. Losing his balance in flagrante delicto is clearly not something he has experienced before.

  “So how was it for you,” I enquire, leaning against the cubicle frame naked and folding my arms.

  “Fucking emb
arrassing!” He’s still trying to get to his feet but now, he looks less than amused.

  “Oh, you can’t be serious? Here, take my hand.” I reach out, but he pulls me on top of him. Now we are both rolling on the saturated floor. I’m laughing and trying to push him off, while he’s edging closer to my face. With every decreasing centimetre, the sparkle is returning to his eyes.

  “Miss Parker, I’m not accustomed to being laughed at by naked, hysterical women.”

  “Then stop making me laugh.”

  “If you continue to laugh at me I will take you across my knee and spank you.”

  Maybe, accidentally on purpose, I keep laughing. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “That’s it, I warned you.” In a move worthy of a professional wrestler, he flips me over his left shoulder, finds his feet somehow and carts me off into the bedroom, still laughing. I feel the sting of his hand on my right cheek and I scream out in happy surprise. He smacks my left cheek with the same force, sending a ripple of something unexpected through my body.

  Just when I think he has taught me a lesson, I find myself across his lap; the damp skin on his thighs has attached itself to my stomach and his left hand is keeping my upper body in place on the bed. This is turning into a very sexy game.

  “Now, are you going to say sorry for laughing at me, or must I seek atonement for your sins?”

  I turn my face to his. “That depends on whether you can maintain your balance long enough to keep me on your knee.” I state playfully, seeing eyes filled with love and lips curling into the kind of smile that literally takes your breath away.

  The air leaves my body in a wheeze. He really is enjoying this, but what is this?

  “How can someone so beautiful be so naughty?” He asks, stroking the cheeks of my bum with his hot palm.

  “You tell me. I was a saint until you came along.”

  “And now?”

  “And now you’ve spoilt me for anyone else.”

  That single statement has him rethinking his game plan. The sexual tension between us is morphing into something else, something more profound; less physical more metaphysical. He lifts me off the bed and sits me across his lap. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, but in a good way.”

  “Is there ever a good way to spoil someone?” He asks, his damp face shrouded in uncertainty.

  “You spoil me all the time with your kindness and your gifts and your body and your love. You overwhelm me.” I take his face in my hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

  “And, what about my ability to maintain my balance and equanimity in flagrante delicto?” Here comes the ‘spoil’ me part I love the most: funny Ayden.

  “Especially that.” He pushes back my matted hair with both hands and stares at me. He keeps staring, sensing a cosmic shift in the space between us as an air of total serenity envelopes the room.

  I feel it too. “What?”

  “It just hit me.”

  I tip up my chin, eager to hear more.

  “How much I love you Beth. I’ve always loved you, or the promise of you.”

  I want to respond with something equally as sincere, but words escape me. I hug him and flatten my breasts against his clammy chest, hoping the gesture is enough. Then the words come to me. “Thank you.” I place my fingers over his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

  “I love you more.”

  ***

  After tidying up the bathroom, throwing on a camisole top and a pair of pyjama shorts, I rejoin him in the lounge.

  “The food’s arrived, you must be hungry?”

  He’s right, I can’t remember when I last ate. I’m famished. “Great! What time is it?”

  “Eleven thirty, time for bed.”

  I give him a pre-emptive look and he starts to laugh in such a way my chest aches: he’s radiant. Before this moment I would have sworn he could not look any more handsome, but here he is wearing suit trousers and a smile and he’s awe-inspiring.

  He turns and reads my thoughts. “Assessing?”

  “Enjoying,” I answer, feeling caught in the act.

  “Well stop and enjoy your food. If you’re good, I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

  I clap my hands together and tighten the towel around my head.

  “Just eat.”

  The food is delicious. He may not be able to boil an egg but he certainly knows how to order the best food.

  Twenty minutes later, we stroll hand in hand into the bedroom. I tug on his hand but he’s reluctant to let go of me. “I need to dry my hair or I’ll look like the Wicked Witch of the West in the morning, if I let it dry naturally.”

  “Sit down. I’ll dry it for you.” He loves to give orders and, this time, I’m happy to oblige.

  I position myself on the bathroom stool and let him finger dry my hair; it’s a small thing but it’s so intimate for all kinds of reasons. Mainly because I suspect he’s never been close enough to anyone before to do it. “Have you done this before?” I enquire casually.

  “No.”

  Details please...

  “You’re very good!”

  “You’re my first customer.”

  I knew it.

  “A new skill to practise.”

  “Practice makes perfect.” He states, clearly enjoying the experience.

  “Yes it does.”

  “All done. Can I get anything else for Madam?” He lifts my chin so I can observe his role play.

  I act out my own wide eyed stare. “Only a bedtime story, you did promise.”

  “Yes I did, didn’t I? Get into bed.”

  The sheets are cold to the touch but soon warm once I settle myself under Ayden’s right arm.

  “Are you sitting comfortably?”

  I nod into his chest.

  “Then I shall begin ...”

  There once was a boy called Ayden who travelled the world looking for things to possess. At first, he bought precious gems, equipment and patents then manufacturing companies and distribution networks, before setting his sights on satellite technologies. He thought he had everything he wanted in life: fast cars, houses, fancy clothes, money and all the take-away food he could eat, but he still felt as if there was something missing in his life.

  So, one day he left his ivory tower and wandered into a school, and this was a very special school full of special children and very special teachers. He was lucky enough to meet one of those teachers and, do you know what she did?” He taps my shoulder.

  “No, what did she do?”

  “She lifted a spell off Ayden, such a powerful spell that he thought he would never break free of it. At that very moment, he realised he had found the one person he had been searching for. He promised to love that special teacher because she made him feel special, she transformed him into a better man and he knew, even if he searched far and wide, he would never be able to find the words to thank her for showing him what life could be like. He would never tell her, but she had probably saved him from a sad and lonely life by loving him unconditionally. Ayden and his special teacher lived happily ... ever ... after. The end”

  I turn my face into his chest, sobbing quietly while he kisses my hair and pulls up the duvet around my neck.

  “I know it wasn’t very good, but it wasn’t that bad,” he chides. “Poor baby.” He strokes my hair until I fall asleep.

  The sound of a car pulling up outside, alerts Dan to the arrival of the ‘object of his desire.’ He stands by the window in the darkness like a giant spectre watching and taking in every detail. It’s the chauffeur driven, silver Rolls Royce. He doesn’t bother checking the registration, he’s way past that. His nose inches towards the glass. It’s the closest he has been to her in almost seven years. From up high she seems diminutive and flustered; the quickness of her step and her fearful expression only amplifies her vulnerability. He likes that.

  At the sight of her handsome escort, he shakes his head disapprovingly and mutters under his breath, “Fucking Stone, I might have
known.”

  In an instant, she’s out of sight but not out of mind. He draws the curtains and switches on the light. It’s just a bulb, no need for window dressing. He won’t not be supplying roses or arranging candle lit dinners for two, that’s not his style. With or without the lights on, his dishonourable intentions will be the same: to claim what is his and to take what he wants.

  Ten minutes later, the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt has him flicking off the light and bounding towards his look-out post. A red Audi mounts the curb and almost collides with the Rolls. He cannot believe his eyes.

  “Fuck me if it isn’t Charlotte. This is turning into a fucking reunion.” If he had the energy, he’d punch the air, but he’s expended so much today already and wants to conserve a little for the early hours. He has a 55 mile drive to work in the morning and, if he’s going to make his 6 – 2 shift, will have to be on the road by 0430hrs.

  Chancing his luck, he slips out of his apartment and tiptoes, as well as he can for a man of his size, down twelve stairs and sits on the landing outside apartment 53b. Mrs. Knowles, won’t mind if he takes a seat and listens in to what their neighbour is saying one floor below.

  He’s fast approaching that point when he thinks it’s a wasted effort, when there are raised voices. Five minutes later Stone comes out of the apartment, looking like a man fleeing the scene of a crime. She’s not far behind him. They are face to face at the front door, talking, arguing. Most of their words are lost on the night air but Dan learns something revealing about Stone. He calls out, “You can bring me to my knees with a fucking smile.” Dan is dumbfounded, but relishing the ‘show.’ His mouth curls into a knowing smile. “You and me both Stone.”

  His words trigger a distant memory. From the moment he saw her that day in the refectory, eating a simple salad and giggling with her fellow undergrads, he knew she was the one. The time it had taken him to trace her, to work out where she was staying and with whom that, in itself, turned into mission impossible. But, what he did find out was how often she visited the College Bar and, from that, had numerous opportunities to observe her covertly, to follow her home; to take pictures and to worship her from afar.