Close Harmony

by Justine Elyot

  “Shut up.”

  “You were sick with lust for me, Nessie. You used to beg me to fuck you.”

  “No, I didn’t,” yelled Vanessa.

  “You did. Always in your short skirts and stockings.”

  “You made me wear them. You gave all my trousers to the charity shop, you controlling freak.”

  “You were such a dirty little whore back then. You’d do anything. You’d take it up the arse.”

  “You raped me,” she whispered.

  He rolled his eyes. “I think your memory is definitely on the blink. Perhaps you should see your GP.”

  “Perhaps I should see the police.”

  “I think you’re in luck,” said Dafydd as the next-door flat was buzzed.

  “Jesus, that was quick,” said Vanessa, stepping back inside the flat and trying to shut the door. Dafydd kept it wedged open with a boot in the gap.

  “It’s your word against mine now, babe,” he whispered. “Give it up. Come back to me and all will be forgiven.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “It could be so good, Nessie. You and me, the golden couple. I’ll take you away from this crappy flat, and your wimpy boyfriend. You’ll have everything you ever wanted, love. I’ll see to that.”

  “I’m too old for kids now,” she said sourly. “Move on to a younger model, if that’s what you want.”

  “You aren’t too old! You aren’t. Even if you can’t conceive naturally, there’s IVF…”

  “Oh Christ, you’re raving mad,” shouted Vanessa, just as a pair of police officers appeared on the upper staircase.

  “We’ve had reports of a disturbance,” said one of them, rather unnecessarily. “Is everything all right here, madam?”

  “No, no, it isn’t,” she said. “He’s harassing me. Make him go away.”

  “You heard the lady, sir. It seems you’re not very welcome here.”

  “The lady is my wife,” said Dafydd. “And see this.” He pointed to his gash. “She did that.”

  The police officers inspected the injury with interest.

  “Looks nasty. You should get that seen to.”

  “I will. After you’ve arrested her.”

  “You want to charge your wife with assault, sir?”

  He breathed deep and looked hard at Vanessa, giving her one last chance to let him in and save herself from arrest.

  She didn’t speak, or even move.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off Karl-Heinz’s hands, watching as he rubbed balm into Milan’s whip marks. They were so strong, so gentle, so manly, the perfect distillation of everything that drew her to him.

  She watched Milan twitch, heard him groan then sigh with relief. The redness of his skin was fading, but long livid streaks still stood out against his habitual alabaster pallor.

  “Is that better?” asked Karl-Heinz in a low voice.

  “Much. It’s so long since I was whipped. I forgot that it hurts.”

  Karl-Heinz laughed.

  “Try to remember it next time.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, so you are thinking of doing this again?”

  Lydia sat down on the bed by Milan’s head and stroked his brow.

  “Don’t expect me to do that to you,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t,” said Milan. “But Karl-Heinz is very good at what he does. Does he whip you that hard?”

  “Not quite as hard as that,” said Karl-Heinz. “Sorry.”

  Milan winced as Karl-Heinz’s magic fingers pressed a little too hard.

  “I’d like to watch him and you,” said Milan, after recovering. “I bet it would be hot.”

  “You never were the jealous type, were you?” said Karl-Heinz with a grin, putting the lid back on the jar and sitting on the bed beside Lydia.

  “What would I be jealous of? Lydia isn’t going to stop loving me. I know that for a fact.”

  “Oh, you do, do you? Cheeky bugger.” Lydia folded her arms.

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “It’s true.”

  “Whoever else she spends time with, she will always come back to me.”

  Karl-Heinz turned his face away from Lydia.

  She reached out for his hand.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “I can’t compete with him,” said von Ritter. “I’ve always known it.”

  “It’s not a competition,” said Lydia, squeezing his fingers. “It never was. It can’t be.”

  Milan spoke up from his prone position on the bed. “Are you finished with that lotion?”

  “Yes,” said Karl-Heinz tersely.

  “Pity. You have an amazing touch. If I pay you, will you give me a massage?”

  “Milan, now isn’t the time…”

  “Yes, it is,” said Lydia urgently. “Go on. Give him a massage. I’ll get the oils—I know where they are.”

  She skipped to the bathroom cabinet and chose the scent she thought would turn Milan on the most. She knew she hadn’t imagined the chemistry between them during the whipping, nor the spark of attraction she’d seen from Karl-Heinz when he looked at Milan. What if these two damaged souls could help each other to heal? What if they could all be together, a triangle of lovers? It hadn’t worked with Evgeny, but Karl-Heinz was so much more mature than that poor boy had been.

  She handed the ylang ylang oil to Karl-Heinz.

  “When did you last give a man a massage?” she asked softly.

  Milan twisted his neck to stare at them.

  “You’ve been with a man before?” he asked.

  “Yes,” admitted Karl-Heinz. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You’re bisexual?” A slow, seductive grin spread across Milan’s face. “I think that’s my business. I’d like to make it my business. But first things first—my shoulders are in crazy knots. Help me.”

  Karl-Heinz gave Lydia a piercing look that indicated he knew exactly what she was up to, and she’d pay for it in stripes on her bottom later.

  She giggled, hugging herself and shivering, then raised a questioning eyebrow.

  He shook his head, but not very convincingly, and straddled Milan’s thighs, oil bottle in hand.

  Lydia perched herself on the chair in the corner—a chair she had often bent over for Karl-Heinz to spank her—and settled in to watch the show.

  Karl-Heinz, kneeling up with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, set to work kneading and rubbing Milan’s back and shoulders. The oil seemed to irritate his whip marks at first, which gave Karl-Heinz some fairly obvious satisfaction.

  “Your punishment is not over,” he observed.

  “It’s perfect,” moaned Milan. “Pleasure and pain all at once. God, you’re good at this. How many men have you had? I’m very curious now.”

  “Curiosity killed the Kaspar,” said Karl-Heinz primly, pushing his knuckles hard between Milan’s shoulder blades.

  “God,” sighed Milan. “Please. Don’t stop. Tell me.”

  “I’ve only had one relationship, as a much younger man. But I have also played with a few guys, at private parties. BDSM scenes, always. They never developed into anything more.”

  “So you and Hackmeyer aren’t…?”

  Karl-Heinz laughed sharply. “God, no. No, he’s straight as a die.”

  “Such a boring little man,” said Milan with a dramatic yawn. “I think he’s in the closet. I think he’s wanted me to fuck him ever since we were students, and that’s why he hates me so much.”

  “You never made it as a psychologist, did you, Milan?”

  Lydia laughed and the two men stared at her, as if they’d forgotten her existence.

  “Look at our little Lydia,” said Milan. “She was such a virgin when I met her.”

  “I was not.”

  “Maybe not technically,” he said with a smirk. “But you couldn’t believe the things I did to you. Could you? You’ve
come a long way, baby.”

  “You corrupted her,” said Karl-Heinz, resuming the massage. “You showed her what she could have.”

  “Like the devil in her wilderness,” said Milan, obviously enjoying the symbolism. “But she couldn’t resist. She chose experience instead of innocence, and now look at her, trying to get her two lovers to make out with each other.”

  “Is that what she’s trying to do?” Karl-Heinz leaned further over Milan, his big hands clamped to the violinist’s shoulders. He bent and spoke straight into Milan’s ear. “Do you really think so?”

  “I really do.”

  Milan had turned his face towards Karl-Heinz. They were so close that Lydia could barely hear what they said now. She crouched forward, desperate for time to speed up and bring the conclusion she longed for.

  “I think that makes her a very wicked young woman, don’t you?” murmured Karl-Heinz.

  “You’re right, but that’s what I like about her,” said Milan.

  “All the same, I think we should deal with her behaviour, don’t you?”

  “Mmm. First things first.”

  Oh, kiss him, please, kiss him, Lydia’s inner voice begged.

  As if he had heard it, Milan puckered up his lips and planted the slightest whisper of a kiss on his male lover's mouth.

  Karl-Heinz, still crouched low over Milan’s prone body, made no movement away.

  Lydia bit her lip and almost swooned as Milan put his hand on the back of Karl-Heinz’s neck and moved in for a real, full-blooded, lip-smacking snog.

  He broke it only to dislodge Karl-Heinz from straddling his hips and manoeuvre him onto his back on the bed—Milan shifting onto his side and taking the uppermost position before diving back in.

  Lydia saw Karl-Heinz part his lips to allow Milan’s tongue to slide between them. Milan was like a long, writhing serpent, his naked body rippling over Karl-Heinz’s. Karl-Heinz held on to Milan for dear life, pulling him into his taut chest, deepening the kiss with wild abandon.

  Before much longer, Milan had pulled Karl-Heinz’s shirt from his waistband and was running a feverish hand over the other man’s chest. They clashed and grabbed and bit each other’s lips, their pelvises grinding together, two erections fighting for dominance. Which one would win, Lydia wondered? Could there even be one winner?

  She noticed, with a guilty shock, that tears were streaming from Karl-Heinz’s eyes and running down the side of his face into his hair.

  Oh dear. Had this been a miscalculation after all?

  “Milan,” she warned.

  He broke off and gazed into Karl-Heinz’s glistening eyes, brushing away the tears.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything is all right. You want this, don’t you?”

  Karl-Heinz nodded.

  “I didn’t know,” he said, choking on the words. “I didn’t know how much…”

  “Why don’t you get undressed and let me make love to you?”

  Lydia wondered why she didn’t hate hearing these words addressed by the man she loved to another. Oh, her life was strange, but so wonderful. This was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and it was only just beginning.

  Karl-Heinz stood up and took off his clothes. He looked so bashful and awkward, doing it in front of Milan, that she wanted to go up and give him a hug. He was completely different with Milan than he was with her—as if he had given up his precious control, and was finding it a huge relief.

  They kissed again, Milan kneeling up on the bed while Karl-Heinz stood over him. Milan put his hands on Karl-Heinz’s arms, then he moved them to his hips.

  Breaking the kiss, he cupped Karl-Heinz’s testicles in one hand and used the other to stroke the conductor’s erect shaft.

  “Hello,” said Milan softly. “Is this for me?”

  “How do you like it?” asked Karl-Heinz, sounding a little agitated. “I mean, I’m not sure…”

  “Relax. Lie down. I’m afraid my ass isn’t up to much today, so that can wait for another time. Tonight I just want to touch you, taste you, give to you. Is that okay?”

  Karl-Heinz lay on his back and put his hands over his teary eyes.

  “Of course,” he wept.

  Lydia thought she could hear music in the air, beautiful string quartet strains, but she must have been imagining it, because the only real sounds in the room were the sighs and kisses and whisperings coming from the bed.

  Milan squeezed and stroked and licked Karl-Heinz all over, until his tears were dry and his eyes rolling back in his head. He was such an attentive and sensitive lover, Lydia thought—it seemed odd that he could be so emotionally selfish when he was so sensually generous. Perhaps the tide really had turned and Milan could leave those bad old ways behind at last.

  But for now, she wanted no other thought in her head than the burgeoning desire provoked by the sight of the two men together.

  When Milan finally knelt between Karl-Heinz’s thighs and breathed over the tip of his straining cock, she thought she might faint. She could see the devastating, overwhelming lust that had Karl-Heinz in its grip and she empathised, knowing the feeling well. Milan had that effect on one.

  At last, oh, at last, he took Karl-Heinz in his mouth, feeding the length all the way in. Karl-Heinz arched his back and hissed. Milan used one hand to fondle Karl-Heinz’s sac, the other to hold the root of his cock firmly in position.

  Lydia loved seeing Milan’s cheek bulge as he struggled to take all of his lover’s length into his mouth. She knew that feeling too.

  She smiled along as Milan sucked and stroked while Karl-Heinz twisted and whimpered underneath. Then her jaw dropped when Milan let go of Karl-Heinz’s testicles, licked his fingers and reached behind, using one long slender digit to penetrate the conductor’s back passage.

  The effect this had on Karl-Heinz was startling. He came immediately and hard, shouting until he was hoarse. Milan drank it all down, making throaty sounds of satisfaction until he had drained every last drop.

  Well, Lydia supposed it had been Karl-Heinz’s turn for a massage. That it had turned out to be a prostate massage was just his good luck. Milan certainly knew all the moves.

  Milan removed his finger from Karl-Heinz’s rear and fell on top of his spent body, pushing his tongue into his lover’s mouth as if demanding he taste himself.

  “Oh God,” breathed Lydia. “That was so fucking hot.”

  She left them to it, going to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  When she came back, with a glass for each of them, they were lying side by side, Karl-Heinz on his back, Milan on his front, looking ragged and sweaty and very satisfied, even Milan, who had not had the chance to lose his erection yet.

  Karl-Heinz reached up for the water and smiled at Lydia.

  “So, did you plan this?” he asked.

  She sat beside them on the bed.

  “Maybe,” she said, passing the other glass to Milan.

  Milan snorted. “Maybe. She’s a schemer. She never told me you swung both ways, or I’d have planned this myself.”

  “You didn’t guess?”

  “I’m usually good at working these things out, but you fooled me completely.”

  He kissed Karl-Heinz, briefly and tenderly, on the lips. “You are an enigma,” he said.

  “Well, coming from you, I suppose that’s a compliment,” said Karl-Heinz with a laugh.

  He was so relaxed, thought Lydia with wonder. She had never seen him this relaxed before. She was so busy congratulating herself on her achievement that she took a few moments to notice that both of her lovers were looking at her with rather alarming expressions on their faces.

  “So, what about this minx?” said Milan, reaching out and ruffling her hair. “What shall we do with her?”

  Karl-Heinz sat up properly and drained the rest of his water.

  “What do you think she deserves for her scheming?”

  “I think it’s more your area of expertise than mine,” said Milan. “You’re
the disciplin… I can’t pronounce it. How do you say it?”

  “Disciplinarian,” said Karl-Heinz with a smirk. “Yes, that’s me. What do you say, Lydia? What do you deserve?”

  “A big kiss,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Okay,” said Karl-Heinz. “Come and sit here between us—the bed is big enough for three—and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Lydia climbed over Karl-Heinz and wriggled herself in between her two men, enjoying their post-coital sweatiness and heat. Milan was the first to claim her lips, putting his fingers to work on getting her fancy evening dress off her. Karl-Heinz joined in with his efforts, kissing the back of her neck and her shoulders as he fiddled with her buttons.

  She wasn’t sure how they did it so quickly, but her dress was off in a trice, leaving her semi-naked, for the dress had been strapless with a boned bodice and she hadn’t been able to find a bra that looked good underneath it.

  Four hands on her bare skin and breasts were better than two, she thought, vaguely, letting herself float in the deliciousness of it all. Two mouths devouring her…this hadn’t happened since…no, don’t think about poor Evgeny…this is different now…

  Kissed into a stupor, she knew she would let these men do whatever they wanted to her. But she was a little bit shocked when they both withdrew at once, Karl-Heinz holding her up on her knees with his arm around her stomach.

  “Well, then,” he said sternly. “I think you’ve earned a spanking, young lady.”

  “Oh, I haven’t!” she exclaimed, feeling the heat of her blush as Milan gave her a saucy wink.

  “You have,” said Milan. “Don’t deny it.”

  “Just a little one,” she said, pouting.

  “Okay, just a little one,” conceded Karl-Heinz. “But I want you to suck Milan while I’m giving it.”

  “What?”

  She looked wildly from one man to the other, but they presented a united front, each demanding her obedience with their set expressions.

  Lydia sighed stagily, then nodded.