by Paul Markham
Without any real sense of optimism, James finally withdrew from the magnetism of the portrait and went down to the main entrance, where he spoke to the young lady at the enquiry desk. He could hardly believe his fortune when he was told how he could contact the artist, which he had done within a matter of days.
James had sat in the old kitchen of the rambling Cumbrian farm property and had talked long into the night with his friend. Zoe, Simon's wife, who was very different from Eleanor but with a quality of subdued wildness and a physical appearance that grew on the observer, had given up trying to keep up with the two men and had left them to their beer and conversation. Once they had gone over every last detail of just about everything they had done during the intervening years in much the same way as boys would gather in excited small groups in the Common Room on the first day of the winter term, recounting adventures from their summer hols. James eventually got around to the main reason for his visit and recounted the disastrous events that had rocked the Penbury family eighteen months previously. He then produced the collection of photographs of Eleanor and Alastair and passed them across to Simon. The artist worked his way through them slowly, occasionally looking up at James with expressions of complete empathy. Eventually, after a long period of silence, he put the photographs back into their box and closed it. He looked at James again and smiled.
"You didn't think I would refuse, did you?"
After a lengthy debate, enlivened only slightly by the emptiness of several cans of beer, James had finally conceded to Simon's insistence that he would not accept a fee for this work. Nothing would budge him from his position and James knew full well that he would never find a comparable artist. He had been obliged to accept this generosity, albeit with great reluctance.
Late on the Sunday afternoon, James had embraced Simon with great warmth and had hugged Zoe with very genuine affection for this kind woman who exhibited no evidence whatsoever of the wild thing she had once been before her union with Simon had finally banished the spectres of self-doubt that had blighted both their lives up to that time. The couple smiled and waved enthusiastically as James' Range Rover disappeared along Mungrisdale towards the A66, on the way to the M6, home and James' precious ladies. James smiled to himself as he memorised the name of the builder who was carrying out part of the barn conversion work that was to add a new dimension to life at Beckside Farm.
Several weeks had elapsed before the telephone on James' secretary's desk had rung and the message had been passed on that the consignment was ready for shipment. With her usual mature efficiency, Heather had put James' detailed plan into action and had arranged for collection at Beckside Farm and delivery to the office on the following day. She had brushed away more than one tear herself as James had shown her the charcoal drawing of Eleanor cradling a sleepy Alastair, who was feeding contentedly in her arms. Somehow, using a technique that James could not understand, the artist had succeeded in depicting the scene, with a long, broad chiffon scarf draped over Eleanor's shoulders and enfolding their child's head, in exactly the same manner as he had in the portrait of Zoe that had caught James' eye in the gallery. This was a drawing that was Old Master, yet totally modern in its freshness. Only the senseless would walk way unmoved from this very private portrait.
The atmosphere in the master bedroom now changed like the profile of Atlantic breakers, peaking in exultation and reaching troughs as the memories flooded back. Michelle was reluctant to say anything, for fear of opening up wounds and inflicting further pain on Eleanor, but her fears were unfounded, for Eleanor had healed well and, far from re-awakening bygone pains, what they were admiring was a reminder that little Alastair would always be with Eleanor and James and, by extension, with those who were close enough as friends to be privy to this private family icon.
The shadows were lengthening in the bedroom and, eventually, Eleanor stood up and held out her hands to Michelle. "I hope you didn't mind me showing you this, Maisie".
"Mind! Eleanor, I don't know what to say, honestly. There aren't words for what I feel."
The two women embraced again and Michelle closed her eyes as she rested her head on Eleanor's shoulder. The hint of Eleanor's fragrance both comforted her and prompted her to hold on to her friend more closely. Eleanor responded in a perfect complement to Michelle's expression and felt the softness of her friend's breasts against her body. She sighed slightly as a deep sense of comfort filled her.
Eleanor asked Michelle what she would like for a night drink and then went off downstairs to prepare herbal teas and settle the dogs for the night. Methodically, she made her way round the house and checked all the doors before returning to the kitchen. She picked up the telephone and rang her friend Cathy to enquire as to how Sophia Louise and Elizabeth had been getting along. Comforted with the knowledge that the two of them were tucked up sound asleep after a day that had, miraculously, given the lie to the rumour that teenagers have boundless energy, she confirmed that either she or James would be round the next evening to collect the two girls and bring them back to Pendene, to allow Cathy and Michael to enjoy a rare quiet weekend together.
Eleanor picked up the tray and went back upstairs. She placed the tray on the chest of drawers, then picked up Michelle's clothes and placed them on a chair before going over to look out of the window. Sounds of bathing drifted out from the bathroom and Eleanor smiled as she thought of James heading back home from Australia after a very busy fortnight in the Antipodes. She heard Michelle climb out of the bath and dry herself and turned to greet her as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft bath towel and with a hand towel wrapped in turban fashion round her head.
Eleanor smiled. "I'm just ready for that bath," she whispered to Michelle. "Can you unzip me at the back please, Maisie?"
She turned and Michelle unzipped the back of the light summer dress. Eleanor turned round and kissed Michelle softly on the cheek, smiling at her with a warmth that radiated from her sparkling pale blue eyes. "Thanks for staying with me these past two nights, Maisie. I love it when you are here."
Michelle was unable to say why she slipped her fingers under the top of Eleanor's dress and slowly lowered it, neither was Eleanor really aware of why she simply held her arms out and then stepped out of the dress, which Michelle then threw casually over the back of the chair. The girls' eyes met and wordless communication between them set both pulses racing slightly, with a mixture of uncertainty and something they could not define. Michelle placed her hands on Eleanor's shoulders with the lightest of touches and leaned forward very slightly. There was just a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she looked down and whispered, "Rosie, you know I adore you, don't you?"
Eleanor looked at her and hesitated momentarily before taking gentle hold of Michelle's hands. "Yes, I do know, Maisie, I've known for some time. I feel just the same and I don't ever want to lose what we have."
Michelle wrapped her arms around her best-loved friend again and kissed her cheek. Eleanor entered willingly and warmly into the embrace and held Michelle's shoulder with one hand and rested the other hand in the small of her back.
The two women released one another and Michelle stood back slightly, looking enquiringly, first at the bed and then at Eleanor.
"Rosie, is this where James..."
Her words voiced an unnecessary question, for Eleanor had already anticipated what was going on in Michelle's mind. She smiled at her and walked slowly to the tall wardrobe. She leaned forward and Michelle felt more than a twinge of envy as she looked at her friend's beautiful shape, partially bent over in her elegant but simply-styled oyster briefs. Eleanor reached to the back of the cupboard and turned round. Michelle let out a gasp as her eyes fell on the cane in Eleanor's hand. Eleanor smiled reassuringly.
"Maisie, don't worry, this will never visit you as it did me that day."
"But Rosie, I don't understand ... how could he? I know he worships the ground you walk on. He is devoted to you and would give everything for you. So why did he do
this to you?"
Eleanor turned to put the cane back in the cupboard and then turned back again to address Michelle.
"Maisie, James is not just my husband, my lover, the father of our son and daughter. He is my Master. He has an uncanny ability to see what needs to be done in a situation. I'm not saying he always finds it easy, but he has courage and principles. I know he would never do anything unless he believed it to be necessary. When he believes that, he acts. I've never seen him get it wrong in all the time I've known him. If you want evidence of his courage, the proof is there behind me." Eleanor pointed over her shoulder to the portrait and Michelle looked up. When she looked back down again, Eleanor continued. "That took far more courage than caning me. Not only that, he did not cane me out of anger or for any reason other than that he loved me and that he knew that he had to release me from the horrible grip of the memory and guilt from the time when those boys drove off with Sophie."
Eleanor's voice cracked very slightly and she paused for a moment to take a breath. Instinctively, Michelle moved forward and embraced her again and kissed her cheek.
"That was as much my fault as yours, Rosie. I still feel the pain of that day every time Sophie comes to the boutique. I have sometimes wanted so much to get rid of the guilt too, but it just stays on and -" Michelle stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Eleanor. The gaze was returned and Eleanor's mind-reading skills were quick to decipher what was happening. She hesitated before placing a finger lightly across her friend's lips.
Slowly, she removed her restraining finger and placed her hand on Michelle's shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. There was a subtle change of atmosphere as feelings were aroused in Eleanor that were similar to, but most certainly not the same as, those she had experienced a few years earlier in that very room. She became acutely aware of her love for Michelle and of her sense of responsibility towards her, yet she was not entirely prepared for words that escaped almost without her conscious knowledge from her lips. "Do you want to do something about it, Michelle?"
The expression on Eleanor's face had lost its lightness, which had given way to affectionate concern. She continued to hold Michelle in her gaze. Her friend looked shyly down and remained silent for quite some time before she looked up again.
"I don't know, Eleanor. I'm afraid and irresistibly drawn at the same time. But I know I couldn't take what you did."
Eleanor smiled softly and maintained her compassionate hold on Michelle's gaze. "Nobody but James will ever use that cane, Michelle."
A flicker of a smile crossed Michelle's expression and she relaxed visibly. "Can I think about it, Eleanor, please?"
"Of course you can. There is no hurry. We'll talk about it after I've had my bath."
Eleanor brushed a light kiss across Michelle's lips before picking up her towel and heading off to the bathroom. Slowly, she reached round and unclipped her bra, then she stepped silently out of her briefs. She looked at herself for a moment in the mirror and reflected on past events. Outside the bathroom, she heard Michelle move to the bed and sit on the edge.
Several minutes later, as Eleanor soaked up the relaxing warmth of the bath, she heard Michelle start to move around again. Having been brought back to an alert mental state, she finished bathing, stepped out of the bath and dried herself very slowly and deliberately. After she had powdered herself and creamed her lovely long legs, she walked over to a cupboard by the door and took out a pair of cream high-cut briefs, which she slid up over her shapely behind in an elegant manoeuvre. She then picked a simple cotton night-dress out of the drawer, lowered it over her body and adjusted it before putting her towel over the airer and walking back out into the bedroom.
Michelle was standing by the chair she had moved into the wide space in front of the window and was looking directly at Eleanor, who moved wordlessly towards it. She held Michelle in that same warm and compassionate gaze and took her place on the chair. She held out a hand to Michelle, who accepted it readily as she watched her friend. No word was exchanged between them and, a few moments later, Michelle released Eleanor's hand and slowly lifted the night-dress before lowering herself across her lap. Once she was in position, she rested her palms and toes on the floor and closed her eyes. Eleanor looked down at the lovely, quite rounded shape of Michelle and placed her left hand at her waist, holding her securely in place. Her pulse was racing slightly once again and the new species of butterfly was becoming very active. She noticed how Michelle was trembling slightly and ran a soothing hand down over her pale blue French knickers. She continued to stroke the girl's bottom for several minutes and used her other hand to massage her waist lightly.
Gradually, the signs of nervousness began to fade, until Michelle was motionless, apart from her breathing. Eleanor took a firm hold of Michelle's waist again and brought her other hand softly onto the centre of the lace-trimmed silky blue fabric. She paused.
"Michelle, are you ready?"
Michelle uttered no sound, but nodded slightly and closed her eyes, her mind no longer in turmoil, but preparing, with that familiar mixture of apprehension and excitement, for what was to come next.
Eleanor transferred her gaze from the back of Michelle's head to her bottom and settled into the sensation of the warmth of her body as it formed a continuous shape with hers. Very gently she whispered to Michelle to lift her hips, which she did. Silently, the beautiful undergarment slid down off the roundness of the slightly plump bottom, exposing the pale skin with a very faint bikini brief shape from the summer's sun-bathing. Eleanor re-established her grip and rested her hand in the centre of Michelle's right buttock.
Neither woman noted how long the spanking actually lasted, but within ten minutes, the smacks had built up from what were almost brush-like strokes to firm, stinging swats, which spread right across the two cheeks and out to the hips, also down to Michelle's thigh tops. The skin had turned quite vividly pink and the wriggling movement of the spanked buttocks had left Michelle feeling very exposed and vulnerable, yet without any will to interfere with Eleanor's loving attention. Gradually, the intensity of the spanking reduced, to the point where, once again, Eleanor's hand was stroking the warm skin. Eleanor paused and listened to the quiet sobs coming from Michelle, whose body shook slightly as the tears flowed. Eleanor released her grip on Michelle's waist and whispered to her to stand up.
Slowly, Michelle rose to her feet and stood in front of Eleanor. She allowed her French knickers to slip to her ankles and kicked them casually off and directed them onto a stool by the dressing table. Eleanor rose and took Michelle by the hand before leading her to the bathroom.
"Bend over the edge of the bath, Maisie," she whispered, evoking an immediate response.
As Michelle bent over the edge of the bath, Eleanor opened a drawer in the vanity unit and took out a jar of cold cream. Carefully, she removed the lid and placed it on the top of the unit, then she walked the few steps to where Michelle was waiting and went down on both knees.
Eleanor lifted Michelle's night-dress and then applied a large amount of cream to the fingers on her right hand. Michelle winced slightly as the cold met the warmth, but her posture became more and more relaxed as the cream was worked delicately into the full expanse of her bottom, covering every bit of warm skin. A feeling of deep relaxation and comfort filled her as the sting subsided and Eleanor's kind and skilful hand went about its task. Eleanor leaned back slightly and dabbed a small amount of cream right at the base of Michelle's left cheek. After a further inspection and a slow brush of her hand across the bottom and then from base to spine, Eleanor stood up and walked back to the vanity unit. She placed the lid back on the jar and returned it to its drawer. She then wiped her hands with meticulous care on tissues. Having thrown the tissues away, she rose and turned round to where Michelle was standing, with tears streaming down her face. She walked across to her, took her by the hand and led her out into the bedroom. She pulled back the duvet and helped Michelle to climb in. As soon as she was happy that Michell
e was safely in bed, Eleanor walked round to the other side and joined her friend. She turned to Michelle and smiled at her. Michelle moved the upper part of her body towards Eleanor and moved a pillow onto her shoulder, where she then rested her head and closed her eyes, still streaming with tears. Eleanor reached round carefully and took a handful of tissues, which she used to soak up the freely-flowing tears. Every now and again, she would run her hands through Michelle's luxuriant hair and kiss the crown of her head. Very slowly, the tears began to subside and Michelle nestled into the pillow, close to Eleanor's neck. She reached her hand over towards Eleanor's arm and brushed lightly over her right breast. Eleanor shivered slightly and smiled as Michelle's hand folded very lightly to the shape of the breast. The two women lay silently in that position until nothing was to be heard but the gentle sound of two contented women at total peace with themselves.
So deep was the sleep that neither of them awoke as the gravel crunched under the tyres of James' car. Downstairs, Samson and Delilah recognised a familiar sound and roused themselves to go to the annex door. They knew their Master would never retire without greeting them and their confidence was not misplaced.
Very quietly, James placed his bags in the hall, went to greet the dogs and then ensured that the house was completely locked up before making his way silently up the stairs. He smiled to himself at how surprised Eleanor would be to see him home earlier than expected.
The door handle turned noiselessly and James crept into a room bathed with the light of the half moon that was shining through the translucent material of the fabric lining the windows. He looked across to the bed and his eyes fell upon Michelle, asleep in his wife's arms. He stopped in his tracks and thought for a moment. A brief frown gave way to the warm smile of a confident husband as the beauty of the picture of the two women worked its charm on his gentlemanly sensibilities. He turned, in complete silence, and left the room, closing the door behind him, before heading to the single guest room on the opposite side of the landing.
