by Paula Hawkes
Tentatively pushing the door open and entering the room she was surprised to see Philip sitting up in bed with the light on. He smiled nervously at her, and a flood of relief washed over her as she knew that he wasn’t angry with her. She was still angry with him however.
“Well,” she said. “Are you happy now?”
“You were fantastic,” he whispered. He sounded out of breath and she saw that he was shaking uncontrollably.
She was torn. His compliment made her feel great, and she was so glad that he had enjoyed her show, but she wanted him to be angry. The conflict raged in her head as she tried to convince herself that his lack of jealousy meant he loved her less.
“Weren’t you just a bit jealous?”
“Oh yes. Very much so. But that made it even more intense.”
She was still struggling with this concept. For her, jealousy was a destructive emotion that should hold no pleasure at all. How could anyone gain pleasure from jealousy? But then she recalled the intensity and chaos of her feelings when she had watched Esta with Mark and she was even more confused. “You’re impossible,” she spat out, not knowing what else to say. She dropped her bra on the floor, noticing the passion in Philip’s eyes as he watched it fall. She walked over to the bed.
His eyes searched her neck and she knew that he could see the marks there. Looking in the mirror next to the bed she was shocked at how dishevelled she looked. The bruises were developing nicely on her neck. She hadn’t brought any scarves with her as she didn’t think she’d need any on this trip. It would be impossible to hide her disgrace. She had all but forgotten her earlier intention to proudly display these shameful marks on her flesh. But then again, was it really her shame? Surely this was Philip’s shame she was openly displaying on her skin. The obvious bite marks would tell a story to everyone who had seen her leave with Leandro earlier. And that story cast Philip in the role of pathetic cuckold, and her as the irresistible seductress. She was sure some would actually prefer to cast her in the role of leading slut, but as she never had to see these people again after this week she could live with their temporary misreading of the situation.
Studying herself further in the mirror she saw that her hair was in untidy disarray, her make-up darkly smudged, and her dress was torn on one shoulder. Her breasts were very clearly visible through the thin material. Damn, she had to admit she looked hot when she was a mess.
She looked back to Philip and saw his nostrils flare and his pupils widen as he detected the natural feral aromas that she had brought into the room. She smelt very strongly of Leandro. There was the cigarette smell that clung to her clothes now, the dreamy aroma of his powerful after shave, and above that all she could smell sex, his sex and hers. The sharp aromas of Leandro’s semen and her own sexual fluids were obvious.
“You like that smell do you?” she asked. He just nodded, still shaking.
She knelt on the bed in front of him, straddling his hips. “Lay down,” she said quietly. He responded almost as quickly as Leandro had when he had been commanded by his mistress, shuffling himself flat on his back between her legs. She was getting used to instant obedience.
She crawled further up the bed until her knees were either side of the top of his head, and lifted the ragged hem of her dress. “Let’s see how much you really do like it.” And with that she lowered herself slowly onto Philips face. She ground out her third climax of the night on his mouth, listening to the wet snuffling sounds of him struggling to breathe but desperate to compete with her recent suitor in providing his wife ultimate pleasure.
In the morning she decided she would tell him about Mark. She no longer feared losing Philip over her extra-marital desires. His reaction tonight had solved her earlier quandary.
Chapter 34
The next morning as she was getting ready for the day she was aware of Philip’s eyes constantly on her. She glanced over and saw that he was enraptured by her preparations. She realized that she had already been subliminally aware of his attention and was naturally angling her body, posing to present him with a gracefully sculpted display, making every movement liquid and elegant so that her curves could be perfectly appreciated.
“You could be a lap dancer you know.” The way he said it, with the emphasis on the first word, stopped her in her tracks. Without that emphasis the sentence would have been meaningless, but with it…. it was as if he knew she envied those exotic women, as if he knew that she had been to the lap dancing pub a few weeks ago. But he couldn’t know. She had never told him about it and no one else at that pub knew him or her. When she looked at him panic flitted across his face so quickly she wasn’t sure whether she had imagined it or not. “You could,” he said, his composure regained. “You could be a model, a lap dancer, a film star. You’re so sexy.”
She liked compliments, but the suspicious feeling wouldn’t go away that he was complimenting in order her to take her mind off of something that he knew he shouldn’t have said. She needed to think about that a bit more, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it right now. It was too confusing and there was enough confusion in her life. He couldn’t know anything anyway. She had never told anyone about that trip, or written anything down. She wasn’t the sort of girl to keep a diary, or Tweet nonsense about her life to the uncaring but increasingly nosey world. Philip didn’t know Mark or Esta, and he definitely wasn’t at the pub that night. Maybe she was making too much of a throwaway comment that she had misinterpreted because she had coloured it with her recent experiences.
The next couple of days were a thrilling rollercoaster of emotions for China. Now that she had freed herself from the moral restraint fettering her to the social norms of a monogamist lifestyle, and with the obvious blessing and delighted support of her husband, the final shackles of guilt fell away like she was shrugging off a heavy wet blanket.
Each day they went out in their hire car, exploring the magical villages that peppered the hills around their hotel, often finding some picturesque historic location for a peaceful lunch. They would sit holding hands, kissing occasionally and revel in each other’s company. In the evening she would carefully select an outfit, aided by Philip, and then she would head off to Leandro’s room. The sex was intense and she was always fully in charge. By the time she returned to Philip her head was dizzy with power and her body was electrified from her recent satisfactions. Before she drifted off into a blissful sleep, she would always demand that Philip admired any new bruise or scratch that Leandro had left as a temporary mark of ownership on her soft skin, and then insisted that he worship her with his lips and clean her sticky body with his tongue. Sometimes she would come again, sometimes not. She didn’t think too much about Philip’s lack of demand for sexual release for himself, and suspected that he had probably exhausted his lusts whilst awaiting her return and imagining her antics with her magnificent Italian lover. Philip could be so impatient at times. If only he would have had the self control to wait, then he might well have ended up being very grateful for that composure.
She always fell asleep very easily and didn’t awaken until the hot rays of the Mediterranean sun reached in through the window to warm her face.
Chapter 35
Mark had been in the flat quite some time. Normally he would have left for work by now. He had been watching Mark long enough to know his precise movements, so this was not normal. He suspected that the visit from the police earlier had thrown Mark’s routine out somewhat. Luckily he had been paying attention when the police had arrived at Mark’s flat, so that he had been able to walk innocently down the street, just another pedestrian. When the uniformed men entered the flat he had cautiously glanced around and then settled into his favourite bolt hole, a narrow alleyway between two houses opposite the young photographer’s home. The shadows were heavy, and the owners on either side were out at work, as usual.
The police had been in the flat for exactly ninety-seven minutes. He noted that down in his book. He would need a new notebook soon. He had to admi
t to being a little disappointed that the blasphemous photographer had not been dragged away. They must have known that he was a vital link between all of the victims. After all, he had been sleeping with every one of them. He deserved to be punished for that at least. Those sluts had been corrupted by this devil of a man, and yet these supposed guardians of righteousness had left the sinner free in the flat. Free to taint impressionable and weak females with his heretical lusts. To rip precious fidelity apart and condemn their wretched souls. Their deaths rested upon his shoulders.
The police had left fifty-three minutes ago, and Mark had been due at work thirty minutes ago. He was rarely late, and never this late. He scribbled more notes down on the paper, though his scribbles were actually precisely defined, neat, miniscule and perfectly formed letters. Precision and conformity were important in all things. Life needed conformity or civilisation would not be feasible. Anarchy and godlessness were the twin horns of evil.
At precisely thirty-two minutes past three, Mark emerged from his front door. He was carrying his huge rucksack and wearing a large coat. He pulled the door shut behind him and posted something back through the letterbox that fell to the floor with a metallic chink. All this was noted down cleanly and clearly. As he walked up the street, Mark glanced guiltily over his shoulder a few times. At one point it felt as if he had looked right into the dark alleyway, as if their eyes had met and Mark had come face to face with his nemesis. He sent Mark a spiritual message through this unseen connection, one of ultimate retribution and hellish promises. When Mark left the street for good he was heading for his ominous fate.
Deliverance would be so sweet.
Chapter 36
China wanted to wear something special for her last night with Leandro. She was becoming more addicted to him, and she wondered if she was becoming a little bit too fond of him. He was supposed to be a temporary toy, a way of slaking her increasing thirst for erotic adventures and to treat her husband to his ultimate fantasy. She could easily put this increased affection down to Leandro’s ready obedience and subservient acceptance of her demands, but wondered if that was too easy an explanation. He was tainted with none of the sulky youthfulness that Mark had. He was more of a man than the man-sized boy that Mark had been. Maybe her stronger feelings for him were at least partly due to the fact that she knew more about Leandro, his background, his family, his story. She had never really got to know Mark, and suspected that beneath his good looks there had been only shallow pools of substance. Leandro was complex in character, and whilst his background was also mysterious, there were enough intriguing hints at a past that was rich with struggle and adventure. Factors that she didn’t doubt played an essential part in nurturing the character she was now quite fond of. There was also the fact that this relationship included her husband, albeit at a respectful distance. He was an integral and active part of the erotic dynamics, making it a much more complete experience than she had ever felt with Mark. His loving approval and ultimate worship made her interaction with Leandro more fundamentally satisfying as well as deliciously exciting.
It was Philip that came up with the perfect solution for her sartorial dilemma, as well as another little surprise for her lover, and thirty minutes later she arrived at Leandro’s door wearing only a fluffy white hotel dressing gown. When he opened the door she could see something wasn’t right. She brought her hand up to tenderly touch his cheek. “What’s wrong Leandro?”
“Apart from the fact that after tonight I will not see you again?” He stood in the doorway, blocking her way.
“Yes, apart from that. We’ve spoken about this. I thought you were ok with it.” She pushed past him into the room and although he reached to stop her she was past him before he could grab her. Another man, much older than Leandro, sat in one of the chairs in his room.
“Leandro. You didn’t tell me you had a guest coming.” The older man stood up. He was very imposing, as smartly dressed as Leandro, with silver hair slicked back and heavy jowls. He would have been very good looking once, and still had a certain attractiveness about him, China thought. He bowed slightly in China’s direction and picked up his coat. “I shall leave you two lovebirds in peace.” As he took China’s hand to kiss it he noticed her wedding ring and a brief frown darkened his face before he look mischievously at Leandro. With a smirk he wagged his finger. “Ahh Leandro, you must be careful. This way lies trouble.” He walked over to Leandro, held his elbows in his big meaty fists and kissed both cheeks.
“It was nice to meet you, pretty lady,” he said. “Please do not make any more trouble for our young man here. He has enough of that in his life at the moment.” He looked meaningfully at Leandro, smiled courteously at China and left.
Only then did China remember she was only wearing a dressing gown and she pulled it tightly around her. Something about that man had felt very threatening, and she could see from the worried look on Leandro’s face that her instincts were right.
“Who was that, Leandro?”
“Oh no one. An old business associate. Nothing to worry about.” But she knew he was lying. It took quite a few minutes, and a large Chivas Regal, for Leandro to properly relax but when he did, China felt herself relaxing too. It would be a shame for their last ever night together to be spoilt. And she knew Philip would be disappointed if she returned too soon. She decided it was time to take his mind off his worries for a couple of hours. She stood in front of him and dropped her dressing gown, pleased with his immediate and appreciative reaction. His mouth dropped open when he noticed she had completely shaved herself. He couldn’t speak at first.
“Having trouble with your tongue, Leandro,” she said. “I hope not, as we will be needing that part of your anatomy in the next couple of minutes.”
A couple of hours later, as China lay on the thick rug in Leandro’s arms she became aware that he was crying. She rose to look him in the face. One hand stroked his cheek as she asked, “What is it?”
“I will miss you.”
“I have to go home.”
“I know, but I love you.”
She was shaken by this revelation, and furious with herself. The games her and Philip were playing were just fine as long as no one got hurt. She had known enough about Leandro to know that the image he portrayed to the world, that of a brash, arrogant, rich man with more money than scruples, was just armour. A defence against the world. Inside he was still back in the slums of Naples, fighting his way through adversity and poverty. All these ostentatious displays were just his way of seeking approval from society, a badge he felt he needed to wear to gain attention and respect, even if it was begrudgingly given. Underneath all this he was caring and kind. Although she cared deeply about his feelings she certainly didn’t love him. There was only room in her heart for one love, and Philip fully occupied that space, so there was no chance that she could reciprocate Leandro’s feelings. She felt awful. She should have predicted this possibility.
“I am so sorry, Leandro.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. Be with me. Leave your husband and stay with me.” He was looking desperately at her, his eyes pleading with her. She looked away, unable to bear the sight of tears that were streaming down his face.
“I can’t.” She didn’t want to say that she didn’t love him. That she couldn’t love him. She knew she would have to say this, but she was not relishing breaking his heart so she held back. “I have to go back with my husband. You know this.”
“He can’t love you. He lets you be with other men.” Angry tears continued to flow down his cheeks.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “He loves me very much, I know that with all of my heart. And I love him.” A fresh sob wracked Leandro’s body and she quickly moved on, trying to explain. “It’s because he loves me that he lets me go with other men. He wants me to live life to the fullest, he wants me to experience everything I might possibly enjoy. He wants nothing but my pleasure.”
“I want that too.”
“Then you
need to know that my pleasure is to remain with Philip.”
“And what about me? Do you not want me?”
“Of course I do. I want you as my lover, my handsome, obedient, rich slave. I want that a lot.”
He mulled this last statement over and China guessed what was coming next. “Then I will come with you back to England. I will buy a flat in London and I will continue to be your slave. I shall continue to worship my goddess, Halcyone.”
“You can’t do that.” The thought both excited and terrified China. That this very rich and powerful man, with a career and life in Italy, would give it all up because he couldn’t bear to be parted from her. It was an intense ego boost at the same time as it scared her to have so much power over another person. She felt like she was an addictive drug, one that men, once sampled, couldn’t give up. But she also knew that she didn’t want this kind of responsibility over other people’s lives, not for more than a fleeting period anyway. It wasn’t fair on them, or her.
“I can. I can afford it. And I cannot be apart from you for so long.”
“No, Leandro. You have a life here. You have businesses here.”
At the mention of his business a cloud of fear passed across Leandro’s features and he seemed to think for a moment. “They will survive without me for a bit. I can run my business empire from London.” He seemed overly pleased at this thought, almost relieved.
“I’m sorry, Leandro. I do care for you, and I have really enjoyed our week together, but I don’t want a permanent lover. Not right now. I’m not ready to settle down with just one lover.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this. It would have been laugh out loud funny if Leandro weren’t so upset.
