by Silke Ming
“I’m sorry. I am truly sorry. What can I do so that you will forgive me?”
“I’ll have to think about it, but right now I want to be as far away from you as possible.”
“Does that mean you are leaving me?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet, but when I do I will let you know.”
“What about the Beetle? Will you sell it or should I tell him to call back later in the month?”
“I don’t know, Seamus. I just don’t know. I opened up my heart and my soul to you, and you just trampled my feelings,” she said as the tears ran down her cheeks.
“Please do not cry, Summer,” he said, wanting to hold her, but afraid to do so. “I love you. I am sorry that I hurt you. It will never happen again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was an Indian summer in Maine. The days were nice and warm, but an icy wind kept blowing through the glass house in the pine forest. Summer had again taken up residence in her room on the ground floor, and Seamus was spending most of his time in the Sistine Chapel. She was courteous and polite, but they kept out of each other’s way. Their conversations were difficult and strained. There were no visitors to the house, but she knew that Fred Podesta had called a couple of times.
Millie O’Reilly was troubled. She couldn’t understand how the happy couple she met a few months earlier had become so cold and indifferent to each other. She wondered what Seamus had done to deserve the wrath that Summer was heaping upon him.
One afternoon, Summer announced she wouldn’t be at home for dinner. She was going out with her best friend Toby. Seamus could only watch and feel rejected as she came from her room dressed in a white flared skirt and a tight-fitting blouse which fit snugly over her shoulders. He felt jealous of Toby. He was taking her out to dinner, something which she refused to do with him.
“You look beautiful, Summer. How long do you intend to punish me?”
“I am not punishing you, Seamus. Please understand that I need time to clear my head of that horrible vision.”
“How long is it going to take?” he asked. “I really miss you.”
“I don’t know, Seamus. I just don’t know.”
“It has been more than four weeks since this happened, and still you insist on punishing me.”
“Can we talk when I come back from dinner?”
“I will wait up for you,” he said.
Unlike the first time they met, it was a strained meeting when Toby arrived to pick her up. Both men were relieved when they parted.
“So, how are things?” Toby asked as they drove up to Port Collier.
“Not much better,” she said.
“Why is that?” he asked, turning to look at her.
“I just can’t get the picture of Seamus and Fred out of my head. Each time I think of the love I have for him, I find myself crying.”
“You know there is nothing between them. He was only doing him a favour to save him from becoming involved in anything that would’ve created a scandal. You must remember that man is a public official.”
“So are you telling me you understand this whole thing?”
“He made a mistake, Summer. He loves you. Forgive him. You must learn to forgive. Don’t continue to do what you’re doing to him, because one day he might just walk out of your life. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No I wouldn’t, but it is so difficult to forgive him.”
“Forgive him, and if he does anything like it again, kick him in the ass and say good-bye.”
“I really miss him, Toby.
“Then tell him that and allow your life to go on. If you keep punishing him, you will also punish yourself.”
“What makes you so wise?”
“Because I, too, have learned from all the mistakes I have made. Let’s have dinner.”
* * * *
It was shortly before midnight when she walked in the door and found Seamus still sitting on the sofa, his legs outstretched across the sofa table and a glass of wine in his hand. He refilled it from the bottle beside his legs before he greeted her.
“I waited up for you as promised,” he said.
“It’s late. You should’ve gone to bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you were still out there. Besides, you promised we could talk when you returned. Sit beside me,” he said, patting the sofa. “Did you have a nice dinner?”
“I did.”
“I want to propose something to you, Summer. Don’t speak. Just listen to what I’m about to say. I am willing to cut all ties to the Podesta family. My relationship with you means more to me than anything else in this world, and I don’t want to jeopardize it. My whole world revolves around you. I keep asking myself how I could’ve screwed up so badly.”
“I don’t want you to cut ties with your friends, especially those you have known for such a long time. All I am asking is that you end those extracurricular activities with them.”
“I am willing…Sorry…Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes.”
He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.
“As I was saying, Summer, I am willing to try anything that would take us back where we were before that awful night. I hate sleeping alone. Every night I reach out to hold you and you are not there. I wake up in the morning expecting to see you, but your place is empty. You will never understand how tortured I feel.”
“Do you think it hasn’t affected me, too? I walked into this house one day, saw you, and fell in love with you. Then out of the blue, someone stepped between us and almost ruined that love.”
“Are you saying you still love me?”
“You know I love you, Seamus, and I really miss you. I miss our talks, I miss your arms around me, I miss our sex-filled nights, I miss the way you wrinkle your nose when you have had too much wine, just like you’re doing right now.”
He moved his hand to his nose and held it. He was not aware that he did that.
“Then why are we doing this to each other?” he asked, staring at her. “You are tipsy, too. How much wine did you drink at dinner?”
“About four glasses!”
“Why so many?”
“I was trying to drown my sorrows.”
“My Summer,” he said, reaching out to her, “why do we do these things to each other?”
He kissed her on the lips, and her body became a bowl of jelly.
“I have been waiting for this moment, Summer. I have been thinking up ways to make you happy. I especially miss taking you to bed.”
“Speaking of bed, I’m going to bed,” she said, jumping up and leaving a half glass of wine on the table.
She went to her room on the ground floor, and he heard the door close. He wanted to open that door and take her in his arms, but was afraid she might reject him. He followed his mind and walked to the door, hesitating before he knocked.
“Summer, may I come in?” he asked softly.
“Why?” she asked.
“I want to talk to you.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, I want to talk to you now.”
“Okay. Come in.”
She was still fully clothed and was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I want to touch you, Summer. I want to hold you. I want to love you.”
She did not reply.
He sat beside and put his arm around her shoulder.
“I want you, too, Seamus, but I’m very afraid to let you touch me right now.”
“Dear God, Summer. I thought I would never again hear those words. At least I know you still want me, and I can wait until you’re ready. How I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing her.
He held her tightly. They didn’t speak but lay across the bed holding each other for a long time. Afraid of what her answer would be, he hesitated before he spoke.
“May I kiss you, Summer?”
“I don’t know if I can allow you to touch me just yet,” she replied.
“I w
on’t touch you if you don’t want me to. There are many ways I can make love to you without touching you,” he said.
She had never heard anything so crazy.
“Just how are you going to do that?” she asked.
“Are you wearing underwear?” he asked, looking longingly at her.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then remove them,” he said, his hands itching to touch her.
“Why?”
“Then I can make love to you. Without touching you, of course!”
In her inebriated state, she could only stare at him and try to decipher what he meant.
“Sit on the armchair,” he said.
She was in no mood to fight with him, so she got up and followed his instructions.
“Now pull your skirt up and put your legs over the handles of the chair.”
She sat before him totally exposed, but not really caring. His heart was doing somersaults, and the rigid piece of steel between his legs was pressing against his cotton pyjamas. He wanted to touch her but resisted the urge, so he could only admire from afar that part of her body which had always brought him so much pleasure.
“Summer,” he said softly, moving closer to her, “touch yourself.”
“I can’t do that,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“You can do it, Summer,” he said, using methods of persuasion. “It will really make you feel good, and it will also turn me on.”
Her body was aching for him. It had been five weeks since she had allowed him to touch her. As they stared at each other, she slowly worked her fingers down her body, finally ending between her legs. She couldn’t look at him and turned her face away.
“Why don’t you do it?” she asked. “You’re better at it than I am.”
“Close your eyes, Summer, and pretend they are my hands. Yes, I am touching you, Summer, and you are enjoying it.”
It felt good, so she was soon gyrating to self-gratification.
“Do you like it?” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.
“Yes,” she replied, almost inaudibly.
Sweet agony replaced embarrassment, and she gasped as the storm of passion swelled in her body.
“Would you like me to touch you, Summer?”
“Yes, Seamus. Touch me,” she said, begging him.
“I want you to come like this, and then I will touch you,” he said, sucking on her earlobe. “Now open your eyes and watch me.”
He sat on the edge of the bed gently stroking his cock. Soon he was sporting a full erection.
“Touch your breasts,” he said as he continued to pleasure himself.
She continued to massage her clit, watching him as he ran his palm over his purple crown. He licked his fingers and moved them back to caress his delicious looking cock. As he watched her, his pace increased, and he stroked it as if with fury. He stared at her, trancelike, as her body rose to meet her fingers.
“Yes, Summer. Yes. I am so turned on by just watching you,” he said, still vigorously stroking his enlarged cock.
She continued to stare at him as she caressed her breast with one hand and manipulated between her thighs with the other. She groaned and her head jerked back and lay on the back of the armchair. Her body stiffened and shattered like a piece of thin porcelain.
“Oh, Summer,” he called out, still stroking his magnificent beast.
She watched him. He groaned and a tremor shook his body. He fell back on the bed, still stroking his erect cock.
They both lay in a semicomatose state, trying to catch their breath. When he had sufficiently survived, he moved over to her and gently kissed her as she lay crumpled in a heap on the chair, her skirt still above her waist and her fingers still tucked between her legs.
She was embarrassed and turned her face away from him, closing her eyes. He was now ready to love her. After manipulating his prick back and forth a few times, his erection was sturdier than steel. He gently turned her head and kissed her passionately. Then raising her legs over his shoulders, he embedded his thick cock deep inside her. She felt full and her narrow walls widened to accommodate his size.
“Oh, Summer, I missed you so much,” he said, slamming himself into her. “I want to stay inside you like this forever.”
“Yes,” she said, clinging to him.
“I want you to come again,” he said, totally out of breath.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Yes you can,” he said, withdrawing and falling to his knees.
He gripped her thighs and kept them spread-eagled as his warm tongue circled her clit, and then he sucked and released it over and over again. The roughness of his tongue barrelling over her swollen sex made her body tremble.
“Are you ready?” he asked, continuing to assault her body.
She raised her hips and her body writhed, the scent of her lust filling his nostrils.
“Yes,” she said as he stood and injected her with a fury she had never before felt, slamming and thrusting into her.
His body vibrated as he came inside her, filling her. They lay still and neither of them spoke. Finally he stood up and, lifting her, collapsed on the bed and they slept in each other’s arms.
When they opened their eyes the following morning, she was still fully dressed in her dinner clothes and he in his pyjamas with his cock hanging outside the opening of his pyjama trousers.
“Seamus…”
“Shhhh!” he said, putting his fingers on her lips. “Millie is out there. I can hear her moving around.”
“I have a headache,” she said, rubbing her head.
He left the room and returned with a couple pills and a glass of water.
“You drank too much wine last night.”
“I know,” she replied.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“My dear,” said Millie O’Reilly with a broad smile and clasping her hands in front of her face, “you have patched up your differences.”
Summer’s smile said it all.
“My dear mother, God rest her soul,” she said, making a sign of the cross, “always said you should never go to sleep angry with each other, and if you ask my opinion, I would say that this went on for way too long.”
“You’re right, Millie.”
“Now this calls for a celebration. What should I prepare for the lovers for dinner?”
“Whatever you like, but remember Seamus doesn’t like liver.”
“So that eliminates my delicious steak-and-kidney pie.”
“I would say so.”
“Balsam,” said Millie, picking up the telephone.
She listened to the caller.
“Well, he is busy right now. Might I take a message, or would you like to talk to Summer?”
“Hello, Summer,” the woman’s voice said. “Seamus promised to get back to me, but he hasn’t,” the caller said.
“Well he is busy right now, so you will have to call him again.”
“He said he wanted to talk to you before he made a decision regarding my dinner party.”
“Well he probably forgot.”
“It’s not just a dinner party anymore. I’ve decided to celebrate my birthday. Will you both be coming?” Lana Podesta asked.
“When is it?”
“On the tenth of October.”
“All right, Lana, we will be there,” she said.
She put the telephone down and asked herself what the hell she had just done. She knocked on Seamus’s studio door.
“Come in,” he said.
“I’ve just accepted an invitation to a birthday party.”
“Whose birthday is it?”
“Lana Podesta’s.”
He sat as if in shock, and then he finally spoke.
“You accepted an invitation for us from Lana?”
“Yes. I thought it was time I stopped avoiding her and faced her head on.”
He felt a little confused.
“What’s this?” she asked, staring at a painting she had
never seen.
“I painted it about two weeks ago. Do you like it?”
She started to laugh.
“I can tell you were not in your right mind when you painted this.”
“Is it that bad?” he asked, turning to look at the painting.
“Worse!” she said.
“It shows what happens when thoughts are not clear and the brain is muddled.”
“That’s exactly what it looks like. A muddled brain! Is that the way mine looked for the past couple of weeks?”
“Perhaps! Just like mine. I hope that’s all behind us. Come here,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “I can’t live without you.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asked, pointing to the secret room.
“I will get rid of everything and will expand my studio to include that space.”
“Exactly what’s in there?”
“Let’s forget about it,” he said, trying to make himself look busy.
“I want to see what’s in there.”
“No you don’t,” he said emphatically.
“I want to see the room, Seamus.”
“Has Millie left?”
“Not yet. It’s only three fifteen.”
“Give me a few minutes, and then I will show it to you.”
“Hi, Millie, what’s for dinner?” Summer asked.
“My dear, I have made rabbit in a red wine sauce, with baby potatoes, and for dessert,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “I have made you something to top it all off. Guinness cupcakes!”
“Sounds delicious. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Summer said as her friend and housekeeper went out the door.
“Don’t let Michelangelo stay up there in the Sistine Chapel and ruin the dinner.”
“Did she leave?” asked Seamus, calling from the upper landing upon hearing the car engine.
“Yes.”
“It certainly smells good from up here. What did she make for dinner?”
“Hasenpfeffer!”
“What’s that?” he asked, not sure if he wanted any part of it.
“Rabbit in a red wine sauce,” she explained.
“Can you get two bottles of red wine and then come up to see me?”
The studio door was open when she returned. He was still busy, but acknowledged her presence.
