“You’re insatiable,” she said, hoping this might be true.
“It has been said,” he admitted.
Back on the bed, Lydia lay naked and with legs spread, floating on a current of sexual magnetism and desire. Milan took his time, teasing her slowly with tongue and hands, covering every inch of her skin with thorough purpose.
He brought her to orgasm first with the tips of his fingers, then with broad strokes of his tongue. When the third wave approached, Lydia, sensitised to the point of madness, begged him to stop.
“Surely…you must want…” she panted, with a significant look at his growing cock.
“It’s about what you want now,” he said, bending and kissing her clit, folding his tongue over it in the process.
She shivered and tried to clamp her legs shut, but the position of his head prevented her.
“I want to make you come,” she said. “Like you’ve done for me.”
“I’d love to fuck you, miláčku, but I think it would hurt now…”
“No, I mean…” She tried to sit up, but he stopped her with a hand on her stomach.
“When you’ve come three times, we’ll talk about this.”
“But Milan,” she wailed, her clit throbbing and unbearably ticklish.
“I want you to know what I can do to you. And this is only the start.”
She lay back down. In for a penny, she thought. Then, ohhhhwooooowarrrrrrgh.
Afterwards, Milan let her wrap her grateful lips around his cock and suck him until he gave his essences to her, thrashing and moaning, finally in her power. Lydia adored the knowledge that she had reduced this emblem of arrogance and potency to this shivering, mewling mess just with a few flicks of her tongue. She revelled in the act, trying to spin it out until her cheek muscles surrendered and she pumped him to his final crisis.
“Do you like to give head?” Milan asked sleepily, cradling her afterwards. “Some girls don’t.”
“I like what it does to you. I like the power.”
Milan chuckled.
“So do I. This could be interesting.”
Lydia paused, not sure she wanted to mention the wilder shores of Milan’s sex life in this intimate moment of coupledom, but too curious to resist.
“Does Evgeny like it too?”
“Evgeny? What about him?”
“Does he like power?”
“No, Evgeny does not like power, except as a receiver.”
“And does he give good…y’know…”
“Head? Yeah. He does. Why are you so interested in Evgeny suddenly?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? If you want us to work as a threesome.”
“Tchah, Lydia, it’s just sex. You don’t have to fall in love with him. You barely have to know him.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes and no.”
“Do you love anyone?”
Milan sighed.
“Not in the way you mean, probably.”
Lydia looked away, then glanced up at herself in the mirror. This will never go anywhere. I should leave. But Milan looked so sad, so defeated. He missed having love in his life. He wanted it.
“Have you ever loved anyone?”
“It’s very soon to be talking about love,” he almost snapped. “It’s like music, it comes when it comes. You can’t force it.”
“But you must like Evgeny? And me?”
“What, you have to like people to sleep with them? You like me? You think I’m a nice person?”
Lydia was stumped by that one. Actually, no, not really. But she couldn’t say it out loud.
“I don’t really know you,” she said at last.
“No.” He sounded bitterly satisfied, as if her answer vindicated his own self-loathing. “And you shouldn’t want to, either. But you should want to fuck me. One thing I know how to do is fuck. And play violin.”
“And conduct?”
“Yes, and conduct.”
He turned his head to regard Lydia intensely.
“Like your friend,” he said. “Mary-Ann.”
Lydia chewed the inside of her cheek, sensing that the conversation was about to take a sinister turn.
“When did you get so friendly?” he asked.
“Last night. Bumped into her in Starbucks then went to see that film at the ICA. She’s okay, Milan. I like her. She’s just trying to do her job.”
“It’s not her job to do.”
“Of course it is. The trustees appointed her.”
“It should be me.”
“Have you ever asked them why it isn’t? Perhaps they don’t know you want to conduct. Perhaps they’d be delighted to hear it.”
“No, they wouldn’t. They like me where I am, at the front of the violins, drawing the crowds. And besides, the trustees would never appoint me. They think I’m too…I don’t know.”
“Too what?” Too Milan.
“Unpredictable, I guess.”
“Why do they think that?”
“I went missing for a couple of months once, before The Next Big String was made. I went to Brazil. I had to. But I didn’t tell them and they weren’t too happy with me.”
“I don’t suppose they were! Why did you disappear like that?”
“I need to get away sometimes. They forgave me because they knew I was going to be making the show and it would drive concert sales. But they don’t like me. They’ll never give me the conductor role.”
“So why even bother with all this intrigue?”
“Because I can’t do things through the proper channels, so I have to take matters into my own hands. You’ve seen how loyal the orchestra is to me. They want me. The public wants me. In the end, that will convince them, I’m sure.”
Lydia wasn’t so sure. But she was too tired to pursue the argument.
The next morning, over croissants and coffee, Milan suggested that she cultivate her friendship with Mary-Ann.
“I’m not going to be your spy!” exclaimed Lydia.
“I’m not asking you to spy.” Milan came around behind her, leaning over her chair, resting his chin on her shoulder so that his irresistible warmth and clean scent flooded her senses. “I just think it would be good to know what’s happening in the orchestra and she will know first. Besides, you know, she needs a friend. Since I’m such a bastard, making her life so hard.” He laughed, but Lydia didn’t join in. Plotting made her uncomfortable.
“I’ll be a friend to her,” she said, “but I’m not making any promises. Don’t make me this go-between. I like a simple life.”
Milan straightened. “Why the hell are you here then?” he said, a tad sulkily.
“Because I want you,” she said, the words coming easily this time. “I want to be with you.”
His fingers ruffled her hair. “I want you too,” he said softly. “Don’t think I’m going to let you get away now.”
Her heart skipped, but she wished it hadn’t. She wished she hadn’t fallen this hard, this far, this quickly. But now it was done, and there was no way around it.
Lydia and Mary-Ann’s friendship bloomed along with the snowdrops as January ice gave way to a February thaw. They settled into a routine of post-rehearsal coffees and occasional weekend dates with takeaways and DVDs, chatting long into the night about music and the frustrations of life.
Mary-Ann was certainly experiencing those.
Despite the nature of their relationship, with confidences and secrets regularly exchanged, Lydia never once let slip that she was involved with Milan as more than a colleague, although on several occasions she came very close to blurting it out.
Mary-Ann spent weeks trying every approach she could think of to get the orchestra on her side, but she seemed to be thwarted at every turn and, by the end of February, she was becoming resentful and paranoid, even beginning to doubt her skill as a conductor.
Lydia hated to hear Mary-Ann’s doubts and fears, but she found herself torn. Now completely under Milan’s spell, she could find no way of help
ing her friend that would not compromise his position. Sometimes she lay awake at night, thinking that he really deserved to have his mean-spirited little scheme exposed…but then he would reach for her, pull her close, murmur in his sleep. She would wonder what nightmare shadows were passing through his mind, what caused that expression of infinite sadness she saw behind his devilishly glinting eyes.
Despite her best intentions and the dictates of her head, she knew she had fallen in love. The stupid urge to fix him, to make him whole and happy, consumed her.
You can’t change him, she chided herself. Then her good sense would be undone by a little voice saying probably…
Floundering in these dangerous waters, she fell deeper into Milan’s vortex, knowing she was being groomed for her place in the threesome, but wanting to carry on, to find out what would happen, how it would work, if it would work.
To this end, she found herself, one blustery Saturday in early March, waiting in the restaurant of an art gallery for Evgeny to meet her for lunch.
Over the preceding month, Milan had divided his time between her and Evgeny, never pushing the ménage concept when she didn’t seem ready, though he occasionally speculated on things they could do in bed, to quite devastating and orgasmic effect at times.
Staring at the menu, Lydia thought of the previous night’s sex, her on all fours while Milan held her shoulders, all the better to pound into her.
“Next time you’re in this position,” Milan had rasped from behind, “perhaps you’ll have Evgeny’s cock in your mouth. Or maybe you’ll be riding Evgeny while I fuck your arse.”
Lydia had groaned and clenched her fists around the sheet. They hadn’t tried anal sex yet, but Milan had been preparing her—with well-lubricated fingers and a selection of toys—over the course of the week, so she knew it was on the cards soon.
“Would you like that, Lydia?” His words travelled over the rough slap-slap-slap of their connected bodies. “Would you like to be fucked by two men at once, using you hard, giving you what you need?”
Yes. But I don’t want to admit it. But yes.
“Are you okay?”
Lydia dropped the menu, aware of the heat in her cheeks, and looked up at Evgeny. She hoped he didn’t have the ability to read minds. Although, perhaps that would make this whole deal easier. Some things were just too hard to talk about.
“Yeah, fine,” she said. “Tube’s gone to shit again, hasn’t it?”
Evgeny sat down, grinning that sparkly-clean grin.
“Engineering works everywhere,” he agreed. “What’s good to eat here?”
“I was just going to have a club sandwich and coffee.”
“Okay, but I’ve just come from the gym. I need more than a sandwich. Maybe some pasta.”
They spent an awkward, artificial ten minutes discussing the finer points of the menu, studiously avoiding any conversation that did more than skate on the surface of the situation.
Only after the food arrived, when Evgeny had speared a pasta shell, chewed on it and swallowed, did he deliver the words they had both been putting off.
“Milan wants me to fuck you.”
Lydia’s bite of club sandwich turned huge and indigestible on her tongue. She struggled to get it down, then nodded.
“I know. He thinks we should get to know each other in and out of the bedroom. How do you feel about it?”
Evgeny raised his eyebrows, looking down at his pasta.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You’re a nice girl. You know, I’d maybe ask you out if I wasn’t with Milan, anyway. So…”
He shrugged.
“Do you…are you in love with Milan?”
“Of course.”
“Do you ever wish you could be exclusive?”
Evgeny sneered.
“I suppose you do?”
“I’m asking you.”
Evgeny sniffed and leant back in his chair.
“I like to play the field,” he said. “Milan allows me to do that. As long as I tell him who I’m fucking, he’ll let me do what I want.”
“So it suits you—this arrangement?”
“Sure it suits me. I get lots of sex, and some of it’s with Milan, who I love. It’s good.”
“I suppose so.”
“You sound doubtful. I know your type. I’ve seen this before. You want him for yourself. Well, it won’t ever happen. He won’t be tied down to one person. He won’t even be tied down to one gender, so why don’t you give up on that little idea and share the wealth?”
“You’ve seen this before?”
“So many times. Boy, it’s boring. Like your friend Vanessa. She couldn’t handle it, wanted Milan all to herself. Greedy bitch. He dropped her like a stone. So get your head together, Lydia. Accept that, if you want him, you have to share him, or get out.”
“Don’t you ever get jealous?”
There was a beat of silence before Evgeny said, “No.”
He’s lying.
“So, are we going to have sex?” said Lydia.
“That’s the plan.”
“Even though you obviously don’t like me?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
Lydia thought back to Milan’s words. She didn’t have to like Evgeny. She barely even had to know him. How odd it all was.
“A lot, surely! Isn’t it a bit weird to have sex with someone you don’t like?”
“No. I do it all the time. It’s kind of good. Different, but good.”
“You can cut the sex part of yourself off from the feelings part?”
“Easily. Can’t you?”
“Umm…”
“So you like Milan?” Evgeny laughed incredulously. “He’s a bastard. Come on. You have to agree.”
“He might be a bastard, but I love him. That makes the sex…that’s what the sex is about.”
Evgeny’s lip curled in disdain. “Love,” he said. “It’s such a stupid thing.”
“I know that. But we both love him, don’t we? And that’s why we’re doing it, when it comes down to it. It’s got nothing to do with sex—it’s all about love. Your love, and my love, for Milan.”
Evgeny’s lips turned down.
“Think what you like,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “I’m doing it because I fancy a shag and you’re here.”
“Well, that’s certainly not why I’m doing it.”
“I know. But you have to try sex with a person you don’t like. Let me show you how it can be.”
Lydia pushed her plate away. “This is weird,” she muttered. “Even by recent standards.”
“What’s weird? You fancy me, don’t you?”
She looked him over, long and thoughtfully. He was very attractive, beautiful really, with a look of Rudolph Valentino about him. Not many girls would pass him up, she supposed. If only he didn’t have the pouty, prima-donna personality to match.
“You’re pretty,” she said. “Pretty on the outside.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re from Minsk and you play the cello and you’re Milan’s lover. And you don’t like me.”
“And that makes me ugly on the inside?”
“It makes you unappealing to me. It’s only natural.”
She flinched as Evgeny’s foot brushed her ankle under the table.
“No, that’s not natural. I can show you what’s natural.”
“Evgeny…”
He moved his foot up her calf, rucking the denim, prodding little dints in the heavy fabric.
“Don’t you want what Milan wants? What I want?” he said softly, caressing the back of her knee with booted toes. “Don’t you want to have us both? All our attention on you and what you want? Wouldn’t you like to have four hands touching you and two tongues licking you? I know you would. I know what you are. I know you dream of getting fucked by two horny men at once. Don’t you, Lydia?”
Blood roared in Lydia’s ears. Her jeans were uncomfortable, hot
around the crotch. Evgeny found her thigh and moved his foot inexorably upwards.
“Answer me, or I’ll get under the table and get those jeans off you right here.”
Lydia’s throat was dry, but she managed to croak, “Let’s go.”
Evgeny beamed and gave her crotch a nudge of approval before withdrawing his foot.
“Milan’s out but he said we could use the flat. As long as we promised to film it all.”
“Film it?”
“Just for us. He likes to watch.”
Evgeny threw some money down on the table and drew Lydia away by the elbow.
For you, Milan, she thought, clattering down the gallery stairs behind the Belarusian. I hope you appreciate this.
Chapter Seven
Budapest, Hungary
One month later
From the hotel window, Lydia could look out across the Danube to the castle on the Buda side of the city. She took in its ancient winding paths and turrets before turning to Vanessa, her roommate, and sighing with appreciation of the beauty around her.
“What a place,” she said.
“The Paris of the East,” remarked Vanessa, unpacking toiletries from her suitcase and ranging them on her bedside table. “Or so they used to say.”
“How many times have you been here?”
“This is my third, I think,” said Vanessa, wrinkling her brow. “These tours all become a bit of a blur after a while.” Her expression softened and she smiled at the younger woman. “But you never forget your first. We’ve got a whole day to ourselves before rehearsals start tomorrow. Why don’t you get your coat and I’ll show you some of the sights?”
Lydia bit her lip, looking away.
“I promised Milan…”
Vanessa sighed heavily, thumping a can of deodorant down on the table.
“Oh, of course you did. Milan.”
“I know you don’t approve—”
“Damn right I don’t.”
“But he’s good to me, Ness. He’s never done anything to hurt me. We’re happy.”
“Secretly happy. Don’t you ever ask yourself why you can’t make your relationship public? He isn’t committed to it, Lyd. Don’t kid yourself he ever will be.”
“Perhaps I just want sex,” said Lydia belligerently. “Perhaps I’m not necessarily looking for happy ever after.”
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