When he returned to her side, she was still sleeping peacefully. He crept in and was surprised when she turned over to nuzzle into him, her arm draping across his chest. Her hand stroked him and twirled in his chest hairs. He felt his body instantly reacting to her touch, and the desire mounting in his groin. He had such desire for her; he kissed her lightly and was pleased to feel the kiss being returned. He moved towards her and lightly stroked her skin, feeling the feminine softness under his fingertips. His penis twitched as he encountered her soft and trimmed pubic hairs, the landing strip of a Brazilian wax. He started to caress her clit, slowly moving his fingers in a circular motion. She moaned and her legs opened, allowing his hand to enter the warmth between her thighs. He was so eager to be inside her that he denied himself his normal pleasures of foreplay, as he positioned himself between her thighs. The tip of his penis throbbed so much, that he felt he could come, even without entering her. Gently he maneuvered the tip of his penis into her hot wet opening. He kissed her and tasted the wine, still on her tongue. His tongue probed into her mouth and played with hers. She moaned and moved so that he entered her fully, her eyes still closed as they kissed passionately. She pulled him to her and he began to move quicker, his thrusts becoming deeper. She began to whimper as his deep strokes quickened. His breaths came in short gasps and she held onto him and breathed heavily. Small beads of perspiration were forming on her temples. Nico began to grunt.
“I’m coming, my love, I’m coming.” He groaned as he started to come inside her.
“No, no. You are my brother,” Veronique said in her semi-sleep. Nico felt himself go soft, the passion instantly killed by her words. ‘You are my brother,’ repeated itself in his mind over and over again. It was an accusation; she had thought he was her brother. ‘Why would she think that?’ He watched her breathing as she slept again, and he withdrew from her and left her lying on the bed. Nico could not sleep now even if he tried. He had some thinking to do, and it wouldn’t be easy.
In the morning, he arose without waking her. He kissed her gently, stroked the hair from her eyes and started to put on his dressing gown. He was writing at his desk when he heard her stir and walk through. He turned, and was surprised to find her standing naked in the doorway. She was looking for her dress, which he had hung on the door of the wardrobe. The silky softness still held traces of her perfume and a few stains from the spilt wine. She was unaware that he had caressed the dress and felt it in his hands the night before, when he so wanted to be near her, any part of her. She blushed a deep scarlet when she felt his gaze on her, her mind suddenly realizing what had happened between them. Without a second thought, she then lunged across the room and raked her deep red nails down the side of his face, arcing her fingers so that she could draw blood. Nico grabbed her wrists and held her away, his anger rising. He felt blood trickling down the side of his face. Anger mixed with desire clouded his judgment as he held her at arms length, her naked and recently loved body glorious before him. Her musky perfume, mixed with his scent arousing him further. He felt the need to kiss her, bring her close to him, envelope her, absorb her into him. He wanted to kiss the life from her with such a force that nothing could stop them merging. He stopped suddenly. He had never taken a woman against her will. Pushing her against the softness of the sofa with the same attention he would give to swatting a fly, he raged, pacing the floor whilst he spoke in a hiss.
“You idiot! Nothing happened last night that you didn’t want. I have never ever, in my life, raped a woman. I never will,” he said angrily.
She pulled her arm across her breasts protectively, her eyes showing betrayal and hatred towards him. He turned and went into the bathroom to check his cheek and to bathe the blood from the scratches.
Throughout the morning, Nico fumed. He was in turmoil. He had never lost control of a situation before. No woman had ever had a reason to attack him before, nor had they, and no woman had proved so vexing and difficult before. Other women would vie for his attention when they met him. They loved his uniform, his looks and charm had served him well over the years. He couldn’t understand why she was so different. One thing he was sure of though, was the need to meet her family, which would give him further insight into her behavior. He didn’t think it was just him, or that she didn’t like him; on the contrary. He could feel it. There was an animal magnetism between them that drew them together. They were like wolves; wolves circling each other, each waiting for the other to reveal their move. They saw themselves reflected in each other’s eyes. They were kindred spirits. Well, now he had made a move. Something was stopping her from loving anybody. If she were free of whatever that was, then maybe, just maybe, she would be his. Leaving the bridge the moment they docked, he walked briskly to the disembarkation deck.
By the time he had arrived, she had already left the ship. The assistant cruise director was supervising the disembarkation of the passengers. He told Nico that she had been picked up by a tall dark man and they had driven away. Nico was furious to have missed her and was sure that meeting this man would be an important step in his relationship with her. He was determined to meet her brother. Now he would have to wait until the next day and try and catch them then when she came back, or he would have to wait another week before they returned to Nice. He turned and strode back to his quarters angrily.
In his cabin, he unbuttoned his white uniform jacket, and folded it over the back of the chair. He did the same with his white trousers that he removed moments later. His cabin was tidy, as the cleaners had already been and tidied his quarters. Selecting a pair of casual navy blue trousers, and a white short sleeve shirt, he placed them on the bed to wear later. He sat on the edge of the bed. There was no trace of Veronique ever having been there.
Without having seen her leave the ship, he would have no idea where she had gone, indeed, where she disappeared to every time they had docked by Nice. His temples throbbed and he lay back on the bed, and looked at the ceiling. He was surprised that he could smell Veronique’s delicate perfume on the pillow and he turned his head to inhale her scent from the fabric.
He had had many women over the years, but none like Veronique and he suddenly realized how futile the rest of his past experiences were. The other women that came on board were easy prey to his charms, his looks, and his uniform made things easier still. It gave him the power and the aura of authority. Female passengers were always eager to ‘capture’ him like a holiday trophy, proving that their holiday was successful, and that they still had their sexual prowess. They sated his desires and he theirs. They both received an ego boost, albeit temporary. They felt more attractive, wanted and desired, and he...well, he felt...empty. Nothing touched his soul any more. These on board romances, some lasting only a few minutes, meant that the women passengers left the ship and returned to their mundane lives, glowing with pride and happiness, whereas he stayed on board, and awaited the fresh arrival of hungry flesh. Although he had loved Veronique for years, he was sure part of her attraction for him, was the fact that she was unobtainable. She was a challenge. Yet now, even after he had lain by her side, caressed her, kissed her lips, he wanted her more than ever. He was thirstier for her than ever before. He had drunk from the ‘cup of her,’ and now, he knew without a doubt, that she was the one for him. He got up and proceeded to dress to go out for the evening.
Walking down the dark street, Nico looked through the restaurant windows that lined the narrow lane. Inside, diners sat at candle lit tables, a woman was laughing, but he heard no sound through the pane of glass. Further down the street, a door opened, casting light onto the night. The sound of dinners and laughter filled the air, and a well-dressed man stepped into the narrow street.
“Bye Matt,” someone shouted as he left. He staggered down the lane towards Nico. He leant against the wall, and belched, oblivious to Nico who was standing nearby. He was too well dressed to be a fisherman, or one of his crew. Catching him as he stumbled into Nico, Nico reeled from the alcohol on his bre
ath.
“Are you all right? Can I help you?”
The drunkard looked at the person holding him up. He tried to place the heavy accent of the person speaking to him. He was Greek, he thought, he eyed him sideways, and then immediately dismissed him.
“NO, I am ok. Out of my way. Let me go!” He pushed against Nico, and lurched passed him.
“Are you sure?” Nico asked, concerned.
The drunkard, wearing a light coloured suit, turned around. Even in the darkness, Nico could see his hair, a thick well-groomed mass of black, with a single lock of hair, which fell across his forehead, and his eyes glinting maliciously.
“I told you. I know my way!” He turned away, and staggered down the street. As he went he shouted into the night.
In the distance, Nico heard him cursing his sister.
Chapter Five - Ellen
Ellen opened the door to her flat, circulars and mainly junk mail, were scattered across the floor. Picking them up, she scanned through the envelopes. Her heart leapt at the sight of a French stamp and postmark. Putting her bags down in the living room, she went through to the kitchen, switched on the kettle, and tore open the letter to read its contents.
Nice, France.
My Darling,
No words can express the loneliness that I am feeling, here in France, without you. I am not one who can describe my feelings, and English has never been a language to shine upon me. So now I find myself in difficulty, trying to find the right words to express my sentiments towards you.
Ever since the party a few weeks ago, I have been unable to get you out of my mind. Yes, I say this, as a man who is not afraid to speak his mind, to open his heart to possibilities. I know this is not your British way, but I am not British. I am a passionate French man, and proud of it.
I am so happy to have you in my life. My every waking moment is thinking of the time that I can return to England and see you again. Please keep some time free for me, and allow me to take you out, to a restaurant of your choice. I shall call you upon my return. Think about what you would like to do and where you would like to go. The world is yours - no, ours to share.
Yours in anticipation
Matt
Ellen’s hand began to shake and she sat down. It was a love letter; there was no doubt about it in her mind. The kettle started boiling and so she got up and made herself a cup of Earl Grey tea, its fragrance curling around her as she drank; her thoughts on Matt.
She sat down again, and reread the letter several times. Should her heart be beating so much? She wasn’t ready for a heavy romance. She didn’t feel she could cope with the strong emotions it entailed. Sipping her tea, her mind thought about the last times she had seen him; firstly at the party, then at the bistro. At first she had felt elated but now, after her weekend fiasco with Dean, she felt confused. Dean had always been around. She felt comfortable with him, knew his background, his family, his friends. They shared the same childhood memories—so why now, was this exotic stranger pulling her towards him?
Both Dean and Ellen had grown up on their vast family estates. They were neighbors and their families had been entwined through the centuries. An alliance formed by both families, more generations ago than she cared to remember. They had had a stonewall dividing the properties, one that went miles and miles around their neighboring lands. A wall that served solely to entice Dean and Ellen to climb it when they were younger, jump it when they had been fox hunting in their youth, and later, when they were older still, they had sat together leaning against the old stones, reading their books and studying together. Despite the fact they had attended different schools, they still met up every weekend. Whenever they had visited each other’s homes, they had had to sit in silence in the large rambling, and often chilly rooms, both unable to feel free. Their parents, both sets, were unaware of the free and easy relationship the two had nurtured outside of the mansion walls. They despaired, looking at the two sat stiffly together, on the sofa in front of the fire, of ever marrying. Yet, it was necessary for the sake and survival of both families that they did. A joining would further cement the fortunes, and the history of them both.
Ellen had always known Dean, but it had never entered her mind that one day he would have feelings for her. She had left him at the train station that morning, in an utter state of confusion. For the first time in their lives, neither of them had felt comfortable in the other’s presence. Both of them had the knowledge of a stronger unseen and unspoken force between them. The peaceful air that had existed was no longer. His parting words to her this morning had been that he would forever be there for her, whatever she decided, whatever her choices were; he would stand by her. He confessed that he felt such a fool having opened his heart to her, but hoped she would understand what had pushed him on. Now, with the letter from Matt in her hand, the words burned into her mind. Both men had apparently declared their love for her. She would have to choose.
The phone ringing stopped her thoughts, and she got up to answer it, but it stopped before she could say hello. Moments later, the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. Sarah, from work, burst in beaming. She span around in the hallway, her arms wide and a wide grin on her face. Ellen closed the door and walked behind her. Sarah was skipping around the room like a six year old about to have a birthday party. Ellen sighed.
“This is IT! I had to come round straight away and tell you. I tried to phone, but you didn’t answer.” Ellen looked at her phone, the one that had rung only seconds before the doorbell had sounded.
“Hmmm ok, what is it?”
“I’m getting MARRIED!”
Ellen groaned, not again, she thought.
“What? To whom?” A few days earlier, Sarah hadn’t even got a boyfriend.
“Look he proposed!” She held out her hand and showed a large sparkling diamond.”
“Who proposed?”
“Edward.” Sarah plonked herself on the sofa and moved her hand up into the rays of sunlight to watch her ring catch the light.
“Who is Edward?”
“Oh, I told you about him months ago. We met at that nightclub, remember the one?” Ellen shook her head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Sarah looked dismayed.
“Oh well, never mind that. Are you pleased for me?”
“Of course I am, if you are.”
“You don’t look happy...”
“I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. It seems awfully sudden.”
“We are in love and besides he’s so rich.”
“That is NO reason to marry someone, Sarah!”
“I’m only kidding, but it is one of the reasons.”
Sarah’s eyes lit up when she saw the letter on the table, her eyes scanned it contents before Ellen could hide it.
“OMG, you kept that quiet!”
Ellen bristled. The last person she would want to know about her and Matt, was Sarah. Friend or not, this would be all over the office by lunchtime and in the gossip pages before nightfall.
“I’d rather not discuss it. I’m not ready to.”
“What? This is me you are talking to; your best female friend, your ally. We have no secrets.”
“I said, I’d rather not discuss it.”
“What is there to be ready about? He looks like he is in love, so where’s the problem?”
“Sarah, please.”
“Oh don’t mind me.” She stood up and walked towards the door, looking hurt. “I’ll be going. I am obviously in your way.”
“Sarah, please.”
“Doesn’t matter.” The door shut behind her and left Ellen feeling wretched. How could she tell her what had happened to her at the weekend with Dean, let alone expect her to keep the other relationship a secret? She would look like a total slut playing with the emotions of both men, and it just wasn’t like that.
Walking back into the living room, Ellen sat down and read the letter again. She didn’t like the situation at all. In fact, men had been something she
had always avoided until now, with good reason. She had known Dean all her life; he was a comfortable pair of slippers and a pipe, whereas Matt brought excitement, glamour and romance. Looking at the letter her eyes travelled the words. She understood what wasn’t written in the letter as well as those that were in clear black ink, and scrawled across the page. She wondered why he had chosen to write, and not email, or phone her. Either way, she said goodbye to Dean in her mind, and apologized that theirs was a relationship that was never meant to be.
The next day the atmosphere between Sarah and Ellen was frosty, so much so, that by the end of the day Sarah asked to be transferred to another department. Ellen had no option, but to grant it.
“Of course, but I am disappointed Sarah.”
“I will need a reference.”
“I shall give you a good one.”
“Thank you.”
And so, those few words had concluded years of loyal friendship, ended, because of men. They were both as stubborn as each other. As Sarah left the office, Ellen almost called her back, but the words just stuck in her throat. She watched her cross to her desk and start packing a box with her belongings. Others in the office watched in puzzlement, Sarah had been the longest serving employee in the department, alongside Ellen. After Sarah left, Ellen got back to work. Things were moving so fast since Matt had entered her life. Events were changing everything. She found herself looking forward to more and more wonderful things happening. A new life awaited her; Matt was so attentive, so romantic, so loving. He promised her love, excitement, everything she had dreamed of. He really seemed to adore her. When she thought of him her nipples would tingle and become erect, she was a well-coiled spring just waiting to release, to jump at the slightest touch. She would reveal her true goddess to him, her inner self, give herself as she had always waited to do with a man, and to give herself fully to him, in every sense of the word. She would be as a flower unfolding its petals, one by one, to the sun. Her whole life was waiting to start in his arms. She wanted him to declare his love; that he was hers, as much as she was his. He had only kissed her twice since they met, both respectful, both chaste. Not at all like the kisses Dean had planted upon her on his yacht. She had never ever needed a man in her life, but since meeting Matt, all her senses, needs and wants had been awakened. She had always thought she would save herself for her husband, until the wedding night, and now she realized how truly old fashioned she was being. Now she wanted to give herself, not to her husband, but to the man she loved, and hopefully, one day both would entwine into the one person. She was ashamed to think of the pleasure she had felt from the kisses. Her whole body yearned to be touched, stroked, kissed, and caressed. She was a veritable horny slut; her every waking desire on the need to have sex with Matt. She blushed at her thoughts. She was getting carried away like a lovesick schoolgirl and she was still at work. She tidied her desk and left for home.
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