The Poison Morality

by Stacey Kathleen

  “But there’s a lot of people in places like that aren’t there?”

  “Sometimes. Let’s go and whenever you want to leave, we’ll leave.”

  “I think I’m too stuffed.”

  “It’s not breakdancing, Sophie, come on,” he pulled her along by the hand.

  “It’s not what?”

  “Never mind.”

  ***

  Sophie’s eyes had to adjust to the coloured lights and bright flashes darting about in the bar. Too much wine blurred her vision more than the lights did. Distracted by the mass of people somewhat dancing and somewhat writhing on the dance floor, she had not noticed the woman that had approached Oliver until she heard the laughter behind her and he dropped her hand. A beautiful goddess approached him, not acknowledging Sophie at all, with a smile on her red lips. Her blonde hair hung sleek and long past her naked shoulders, her dress revealing cleavage almost to her nipples. The hem of her skirt was more than half way up her thighs, exposing long legs with strappy heels on her feet.

  It was obvious by the way her hands rested easily on his shoulder and then his chest that they were acquaintances. Sophie couldn’t hear what she was saying to Oliver but she saw her mouth too close to his ear as they laughed together, a joke not shared by Sophie, she felt left out.

  Sophie and Oliver were friends; there was no need to feel anything about the woman that stood too close to him, his hand on her elbow leaning in so he could hear what she had to say over the music. Drifting away from him now and looking around, her head swimming, as Oliver and the blonde shared their moment. She felt out of place in her simple black ensemble and low heels but no one seemed to notice as couples paired off flirting at the bar or dancing. The music was surreal to her, she didn’t know it could affect her so much and she found that she was swaying to it. The beat moved her and the melody coursed its way through her body as if it physically touched her. It was more than just music, ambient, setting a mood that everyone dancing understood.

  She looked back at Oliver and the woman, their familiarity. The music had changed to something slower and a feeling she didn’t recognize flowed through her veins, giving her courage to move towards the hive pulsing full of people, like it was sensuality itself. She closed her eyes and touched her face; it was warm, flushed by the champagne and wine.

  Lights were low, casting a romantic glow over the people, engrossed in their own rhythms, moving and swaying in sync, having sex with clothes on, it seemed to her. Mesmerized by the scene, it was hard to tell where one person started and another ended, so entwined were they, touching each other, touching everyone.

  Sophie floated towards the people wanting to be part of this delicious energy; a feeling of jealousy pushed her from behind and the music compelled from the front she glided, without looking back, hips moving independent of her torso and chest. Rippling effect of her body, she found that she had rhythm outside the foolish dancing around in her flat with the music player he had given her.

  Their bodies were the tangible reality of the music. Everyone moving in slow motion, matching the vibration of the music that floated through the room, the beat pumped up from the floor. Instead of walking on the edge of the crowd, she was moving through it, she had become brazen and her hands reached out as she did. The group of people together moving rhythmically was like a pulsating entity. She felt the heat of skin, the sweat, the muscles of men, and the softness of women. The pressing of bodies pushed her gently side by side, forward and back, allowing it. Strangers’ hands caressed her purposely and accidentally, tickling and tantalizing her, making her skin prickle with sensations like currents.

  Sophie stood in the middle, letting the music move her. Her eyes closed, she felt the chill of the air conditioning on her overheated skin. Finding her spot, on the edge of the crowd, she gave into the music and danced, moving her hands over her own body, sliding her hips back and forth. Someone moved up behind her. When he wrapped his arm around her waist, she could feel the condensed mass of his muscles; he moved his hips, matching her rhythm. Relaxing, she let him move her body for her; curiosity compelled her to give up control. She reached a hand up behind her to slide around his neck.

  This man was shorter and hard muscular, not at all like Oliver’s lean body, she blushed at the thought. Her head rested on his chest. She was aware that he could take her over if he chose to but he chose to move with her not against her, there was something very erotic about that thought and she pictured Oliver and the blonde dancing together.

  His hand skimmed her waist and down the curve of her hip until it found the hem of her skirt, pulling it up slightly above her knee. Before her slackened sensibilities could react, she was gently yet firmly pulled away from the warmth behind her. Chills tickled her back now covered in sweat cooled by the air and the absence behind her.

  Did Oliver just notice or did it take the raising of her skirt by a stranger for him to intervene? Actually, now that she had sobered up a little, she was appalled by the stranger behind her but he was gone now and Oliver was there, agitated but he was there.

  Opening her eyes, Oliver glared down at her, the muscle working in his jaw indicating the clenching of his teeth, his agitation apparent. Surprised by his jealously and the double standard, she jerked her hand out of his but didn’t move instead staring dazed into his eyes, his face shadowed and chiselled, his eyes gave the man behind her a warning and his mouth open as if he wanted to speak but chose not to, he licked his lips instead.

  Oliver was more upset with himself than Sophie. He had been distracted by Madelyn and saw Sophie dancing with another man, her defences down from too much wine he had urged her to drink. He didn’t interfere but watched her closed eyes, the way she was feeling the music, almost oblivious to the man that had walked up behind her. When the man’s hand began to roam on her body he knew he had to act.

  Her face glowed in the soft blue light. Her body swayed provocatively, her curves attracted several on-lookers; she was completely unaware of her allure of the opposite and the same sex. Women reached for her, just to touch her soft skin, even as Oliver stood before her, claiming her for his own. And Sophie, in this atmosphere had released any apprehensions and the caressing had either gone unnoticed or she yielded to it.

  Suddenly, furious at him for taking her away, her head was beginning to clear and she reacted physically to these thoughts by attempting to push him away with her hand on his chest but he didn’t move at all, his feet firmly planted on the floor, making her even angrier. It only resulted in her palm pressed flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, the steady, calm intake of breath. It quenched her anger, the beat of his heart matched the beat of the music and she left her hand there enjoying the sensation. His fingers pressed into her hand, his arm came around her waist where he held her. A sideways grin crossed his face and he leaned towards her, wanting to kiss her but resisted, pulling her against him instead.

  He was satisfied in her jealousy because jealousy meant that she cared about him more than she would admit. Swaying against her, Oliver let his body and the music speak for him, his hips shifted back and forth; she had no choice but to move with him, as one entity together his movements were smoother than the previous man.

  It was easier in the low light to succumb to these erotic feelings, her flushed face couldn’t be seen. The hollow at the base of his neck, the top of his shirt now unbuttoned, she watched as his adam’s apple moved in his throat when he swallowed. The skin glistened with sweat; she wanted to press her lips there, to taste him. Shocked by her own shameless thoughts, she stayed close to him, if she had stepped away, he would see her embarrassment.

  The only intoxication now was the moment, the touching, the heat, skin. As long as the music played, the tickles of strangers, gentle and inviting, and Oliver’s warm body protected her and moved her, she would follow where it lead. There were similar feelings welling up in her that she felt at Carnal but it was different, not sex driven but sensuality, beginning with her and
Oliver, not someone else.

  Oliver could feel the warmth of her breath on his cooling skin, her lips so close to his throat, he caressed her cheek in encouragement. He lifted his head, allowing access to her, waiting in anticipation for that delicious moment when her lips would touch him there. A woman approached, bypassing everyone to come to them. She had pale skin and huge, light eyes. She sauntered up to them, behind Sophie, like a cat, her long red hair hung down her back, her freckled shoulders exposed.

  The redhead reached over Sophie and caressed Oliver’s cheek with her right hand and her left bared Sophie’s neck moving her hair out of the way. Sophie gave a little giggle, her shoulder rising instinctively by the tickle of the woman’s nails.

  The woman seemed more interested in Sophie, however even though she touched him as well; her lips went to Sophie first. Oliver knew Sophie would be able to feel his arousal now. He stayed in rhythm fascinated by the woman’s unabashed conduct and surprised by Sophie’s lack of resistance.

  He watched as the woman kissed Sophie’s cheek and Sophie moaned, he could feel her smile against his chest and then the woman barely kissed Sophie’s lips proceeding cautiously. Sophie opened her eyes, the lovely woman staring back at her and Sophie jumped, startled, clutching Oliver’s shirt, his arm protectively went around her shoulders. It was Josie, Sydney’s possibly ex-girlfriend, thinking that Sophie was Sydney and Oliver didn’t know Josie therefore not making the connection.

  Smiling a sideways smile at her and then faded angrily, a woman scorned. Taller heels gave her an advantage and she stepped into the void between Oliver and Sophie undeterred, leaning into Oliver and the easy access to his lips.

  Oliver’s attention shifted to her. He didn’t move but he didn’t resist either. Sophie took it upon herself to stop her from kissing Oliver, her mind raced. Unable to push her without making a scene, she simply slipped her hand between them and covered his mouth, turning his head back to her. Standing upright and firm, she shook her head no at the woman.

  The burgundy lips frowned; she tossed her hair, turned on her stilettos and walked away. Sophie’s hand still covered Oliver’s mouth but she could feel the satisfied smile under her palm. The lines etched down his cheeks showed his amusement. She traced the outline of his lips with her finger. Nothing could have stirred him more than her claim on him, not even the redhead kissing Sophie.

  Pulling away, he took her hand and led her towards the door, pushing through bodies until they were on the crest again of the dancing crowd and seemingly another world than the one they were in ten feet away.

  Sophie saw the blonde, her elbows leaned back on the bar, her legs crossed, and staring at them and Sophie had a sense of power; power over the blonde, power over Josie, power over Oliver.

  Chapter 31: The First, The Second, and the Chime of Big Ben

  On the way to his flat, it was understood, that’s where they would go. She was just as comfortable there as her own flat that seemed particularly shabby and inadequate these days. “That was Josie.”

  Oliver slid next to her on the seat watching outside her window. He kissed her fingertips; she didn’t stop him, her breath quickening. “Hmm? Oh, she must have thought you were Sydney then,” he was kissing up her arm, tickling her.

  “And you, her new beau,” his lips came close to hers but she backed away, “You were going to let her kiss you,” she said somewhat agitated.

  “But you stopped her, didn’t you? Were you declaring me as yours Sophie?” He was whispering, his breath caressing the side of her face and ear. “Besides, that man was going up your dress.”

  “I can’t claim what isn’t mine to have and you intervened, didn’t you,” Sophie watched his lips trail up to the crook of her elbow. She leaned in close to be face to face with him when he sat up, their mouths meeting. His lips soft and kneading hers, only their lips sweetly joined.

  Oliver sighed, “You only think you can’t have me because of your own self-doubt. That doesn’t come from me. You already have me.” Oliver knew to keep his expectations non-existent and just accept all the little bits she offered, no more. She didn’t reply only smiling slightly and nodding her head at his silly notions.

  Inside the flat, he relaxed, putting on music as always and she clutching the table, anticipating not knowing what to expect. There was no answer to that. If she allowed herself to feel those expansive emotions she feared would crush her instead of making her exultant.

  He came to stand over her; she stared at the hollow of his throat, fearful to look at his face. Oliver’s fingertips floated down her arms and under her palms to detach them from the table afraid of a repeat of what happened last time. Holding her hands he turned them over kissing each palm in turn, his breath tickling her wrists.

  Sophie’s face was flushed as she licked her lips still tasting him there, tingling. His arms went around her, pulling her to him tightly. Arching her back, her breasts pressed against his chest. The feeling of his arousal was a familiar feeling now but she was not apprehensive this time.

  Chewing nervously on her lip, she watched his mouth, waiting for him to kiss her again. Wishing he would kiss her again. Finally, she looked at his blue eyes; half closed looking at her not with lust but passion, not sure how she knew the difference but she did.

  Sophie slid her hands around his neck and he bent to kiss her again. This time she gave into him completely. There was a craving in her she never experienced before. Warmth and longing spread throughout her body until every cell was reacting and matching his movements. What she was feeling was the electricity similar to what she felt the last time he kissed her but it wasn’t the want of sex only but the person she was with.

  His fingers went through the softness of her hair to hold her head in the kiss.

  She bent her head back exposing the white skin of her neck to him. The gentleness of his fingers clasped her throat and he felt her pulse from the artery merging with the pulse in his thumb, and then pressed his lips there, kissing the bruises left behind from her attacker.

  Little kisses all over her neck, the delicious anticipation of where his lips might land, his hand skimmed the side of her breast which startled her and she pushed him forcefully, almost knocking him off balance. It seemed easier this time and she was just as disappointed at her reaction as he must have been but he didn’t show it, “Sorry, I don’t think I’m intoxicated enough this time.” She said trying to make a joke but it just sounded like she had to be drunk to have sex with him and maybe she did.

  “I won’t, though, if you are,” his fingertips followed her hairline from her forehead, down her jawline, and rested under her chin, his thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “I would offer you a glass but you’ve had plenty tonight, I think.”

  “I have to go cause I feel like,” she shook not knowing if it was her thoughts or her feelings, “You remember when I told you when I broke the glass how the pain filled the room?”

  He looked concerned, “Yes.” Oliver gripped her arm but she looked at the door. It was an ache not only physically, if she left and he said the only thing he could say to her. “I feel like that, overwhelming….”

  He acknowledged what she said with another kiss. “Please don’t go. I won’t touch you anymore if that’s what you want but please don’t go, not yet or even not tonight.”

  Sophie didn’t want to go but she was afraid. It was different now, her emotional investment made the possibility of disappointing him even more foreboding. If he had just taken her up on her offer when she was pissed, it would have been fine if he was disappointed it wouldn’t have mattered.

  He held her gently but didn’t let her go. She couldn’t make the decision between what she wanted and what she was afraid of. Leaning again on the table, she pulled away, her head became heavy again, her head rested on his chest, losing herself in the beating of his heart. But she turned to walk away slowly towards the door, his hand held onto her elbow and the further she moved away, his hand slid down her arm, clutching
her hand, she stopped and he waited in nervous anticipation. What she did next would determine what the rest of the night held for him.

  When she resisted no longer and gave him a look that told him what she wanted, biting her bottom lip, he took the risk. Oliver pulled her to him and she came to him willingly, kissing him feverishly, she gave in.

  Brazenly, unbuttoning his shirt, her knuckles slid down his chest. Shirt open, she saw the pale flesh and soft hair underneath and touched him with speculation at this fresh experience and he watched her reactions as she was discovering his body for the first time, probably the first man she experienced willingly. Her face revealed only curiosity, not the usual expressions that crossed her face; expressions that revealed to him what was really going on in her mind.

  She took his hand and unbuttoning the cuff at his wrist and kissing it, she could feel his pulse beneath her lips. Then, one by one kissing his fingertips in turn; occasionally the tip of her tongue tickled one. He caressed her rosy cheek, as she did the same with his other hand, unbuttoning the cuff and sucking and nibbling his fingers, causing him to take a deep breath.

  His hand skimmed down her neck to the curve of her breast; he cradled it, feeling the peaks harden against his thumb through the fabric until she raised her arms, indicating he should take her top off. Pulling the bottom of the shirt up, his fingers tickled her stomach, all the way up her side, feeling the chill bumps he created, and then up her arms until the shirt was off.

  Oliver was surprised by her sudden willingness and lack of embarrassment. At that moment when she looked up at him, he couldn’t read her except that her face was flushed, eyes narrow, and licking her lips. He opened his mouth to question the change in her, his curiosity getting the better of him but her hands slipped inside his shirt, tugging it off of him and the words didn’t come forth.

  Walking behind him she traced the ripples of his spine and the outline of the muscles of his back and shoulders and where her hands touched him, light kisses followed, exciting him. He dared not make a move without her initiation for fear she would withdraw behind the wall that she hid behind for so long but thrilled at her exploration of his body.