by Janey Rosen
Alan suggests a very good hotel where they may like to have dinner, The Willows Hotel. I shoot him a look, which says, “I hope you choke on your lamb,” but he smirks back at me.
It’s apparent that he has already told Nathan about yesterday, as the two of them share knowing glances. Sarah, ever the diplomat, changes the subject but the digs keep coming from Alan throughout the rest of the meal.
It ruins the day and, when the family departs at six, I am simmering with rage.
“You just couldn’t bloody help yourself could you?” I hiss at him while I wash up the dishes.
“You humiliated me with all your sniping and made your family uncomfortable. Did you see Dora’s face?”
“It’s YOUR fault!” he hisses. “Don’t you blame me. I’ve had just about enough of you. Why don’t you bugger off with your Mr Range Rover, and leave me and my kids? You’re never here anyway, you’re always at work or up to God knows what…”
He’s drunk again, and at this moment I hate him more than ever.
I need some space and so I grab my bag, car keys and jacket and open the front door, unsure as to where I am going, but needing to be alone.
Bella yells from the top of the stairs, “bloody nice one, mum. Piss off!” I turn to go to her, to tell her I am sorry that she heard her father and I arguing, but she is gone and I hear her door slam shut.
Bereft, I leave the house.
I drive to the coast and park my car in the car park by West Way beach, it being a cold November evening the car park is nearly deserted. I decide to call Ruth and take out my phone from my bag. When I switch it on, I see there is a text message waiting for me.
Are you ok? S
Sebastian is so thoughtful, but he’s disregarding my request for space and yet seems so intuitive to my needs. I forget about calling Ruth and instead text him back, well why not?
Things bad at home, thanks for caring X
His reply arrives almost immediately
I’m here if you need me
His message is brief, but the fact that he cares is comforting. Feeling better, I decide to head home but I erase his messages first.
Alan’s watching television when I return home, and he ignores me. The children are very quiet, I presume that Joe also heard us arguing in the kitchen and I feel bad about that, I really do. Tomorrow will be a better day. This evening I will spend time with the kids and then take myself to bed and lose myself in the final chapters of my book. If only real life was like that book.
The week drags by incredibly slowly. As usual I’m running the children around to school, activities, parents’ evening and of course working and each day seems more arduous than the previous one.
I haven’t received any more messages from Sebastian despite constantly checking my phone. Thursday comes and I’m wading through reams of paperwork on my desk when my mobile phone rings. I don’t recognise the number as I answer.
“Beth Dove speaking” I say.
“Elizabeth, it’s Sebastian. Can you talk?”
My pulse races and I feel myself flushing, I didn’t expect his call.
“Sebastian, how nice of you to call,” my voice sounds just a tiny bit too high pitched and desperate.
“Are you alright?” he asks. So caring.
“Same old, same old,” I reply. “My day just got a whole lot better with your call,” I add cheekily.
“Glad to hear it. I’ve left you alone, as requested, but I’d like to see you.” Technically he hasn’t really left me alone as it’s only been a few days since his text, but I’m flattered and relieved to hear his voice.
“I want you to come to stay at Penmorrow for a few days. It’ll do you good.” My stomach does a back flip as the enormity of what he’s asking hits me. I would dearly love to go to Penmorrow and spend a few days in bed with Sebastian… I know that’s not actually what he said but it is my interpretation.
“Sebastian, that would be wonderful but I can’t. I have the children, work, not to mention how Alan would freak out.” I am categorically saying no. It’s the sensible thing to do. “Although, I could ask Mum if she’d have the kids for a couple of days. She knows how exhausted I am…” Oh my willpower is staggering.
“Good girl. Can you make the weekend or is Monday easier?” my thoughtful Sebastian.
“Let me call Mum, and text you back in a few minutes,” the last of my self control dissipates, “and, Sebastian, I’ve missed you.” I am a lost cause.
“I’ve missed you too. Call me back.” He cuts the call.
I call my mother.
“Mum, it’s Beth, I hate to do this to you, but you know how stressed I’ve been lately. Things aren’t good at home and work is manic, I’d be so grateful if you could please have the kids for the weekend for me? I thought I’d go to a spa for a rest.” I hold my breath, ashamed that I’m lying to my own mother.
“Beth darling, is everything ok?” Intuitive mothers.
“Alan’s being the same as usual. I wouldn’t ask you but I really do need this,” I tell her.
“Yes I can have them, of course I will, but on the condition that you go to a really nice spa and have a complete rest.”
A rest. I’m not so sure that resting will be on our agenda.
“Oh Mum, thank you so much. Yes, I plan to go to bed for two days and sleep. I’ll drop the kids to you at 10am on Saturday.”
We chat for a few more minutes and then I end the call. What am I doing? I wasn’t being totally dishonest, I did indeed hope to spend two days in bed after all.
I text Sebastian rather than call.
Mum said yes! I will be with you Sat pm. Can’t wait and thank you. X
My phone pings as a reply is received.
You’re texting – I said call. Plan on having fun.
He is so pedantic. Plan on having fun? That sounds so deliciously naughty.
Friday passes slowly and I can’t wait for Saturday to come. I’ve told Alan that Mother suggested I take a short break in a spa, which is almost true, so that I can recharge my batteries. He actually agreed that this was a good idea but I can see that he doesn’t trust me. However, he trusts my mother, and is satisfied that the children will be well looked after. I tell him that I will go from the spa directly to work on Monday and will be home that evening.
Saturday morning arrives and I rise early, and dress in a warm chocolate colour sweater dress and boots. I pack Bella and Joe’s overnight bags and a small suitcase for myself, hiding my new underwear at the bottom of the case along with my favourite perfume and various clothing. I pack my swimsuit out of sudden panic as I am meant to be visiting a spa.
The kids are in the car and, after Alan bids me a curt goodbye, I drive to my mother’s house. I kiss and hug my children and mother, feeling a pang of guilt as I do so. Then I am on my way and I haven’t felt so excited since I was a teenager. I feel I may burst.
Penmorrow is even more spectacular than I remember. Perhaps because I won’t be sharing it with countless other women, it seems even more inviting.
I drive slowly up the tree-lined drive and the butterflies in my tummy are doing back flips. I park and cut the engine and step from my car.
As I take my small suitcase from the trunk, I inhale the salty sea air – it is invigorating and rejuvenating, and my troubles seem a million miles away. I hesitate at the imposing oak door of the austere house, before raising the lions’ head and knocking loudly. Stepping back I expect to be greeted by Slave Girl, but instead Sebastian throws open the door. I hold my breath and look at this man and in that moment I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything before.
7
We don’t speak. Instead he takes me in his arms and hugs me tightly before kissing my hair. He smells so good, I breathe in his manly scent. Taking my suitcase from me, he takes my hand and leads me into the house. I hesitate in the hall but he has a firm, commanding grip on my hand. He puts my suitcase down next to the fireplace in the vast hall, and continues wal
king and I follow submissively.
Sebastian purposefully treads each stair, still gripping my hand he leads me up the Gothic looking staircase with cast-iron balustrade. We reach the top stair and he leads me to the left, underneath a vast octagonal lantern and down a long straight passageway off which are several closed doors. He stops at the fourth door on the left and turns the handle, pushing open the heavy oak door and I follow him.
Sebastian stops in the centre of the room and pulls me into his arms. All that I’m aware of is a vast four-poster bed with ornate carving and heavy, dark purple velour drapes. We kiss then, our tongues hungrily seeking each other’s. His lips bruise mine with his passion and I moan with desire, a warm trickle seeping from my sex. I feel his hand press into the small of my back and move downwards, where it grasps and kneads my buttocks. He takes a handful of my hair with his other hand and tugs it firmly. Still our tongues explore each other and I run my fingers through his short hair at the back of his head, pulling on it in my passion. He bites my lip and I wince but seek more hungrily.
I feel Sebastian unzipping my dress and, as he glides the zip down, my spine tingles. He slides it off each shoulder and it slithers to the floor. He unhooks my bra and I press my naked breasts against him, my nipples hardening painfully, elongating with the need for his touch. I pull back and lift his sweater over his head and he raises his arms to help me, then I take off his t-shirt and both are cast to the floor. He pulls me tightly to him and my nipples now press against his bare chest, the mass of dark hairs there tickling my skin. His muscles are well defined and hard as I run my fingers across his bare chest. He is the most beautiful male specimen I have ever seen and I am feral with desire for him.
He runs his hands firmly down my back and his fingers find the top of my panties, which he roughly pulls down over my hips and I step out of them. I am naked and squirming with desire, feeling myself gush with desire and yearning for his touch on my clit and his cock inside me, deep, oh so deep. I push my hips forward, rubbing my groin against his hard cock, which is pressing through the denim of his jeans screaming to be released. I undo his leather belt and tug down his zipper, my impatience growing.
“Mmm so impatient Elizabeth. You need it darling, don’t you…” he breathes.
A gasp escapes my lips as I take his huge, erect penis in my hand and squeeze it’s length, rejoicing at the way it throbs in my hand. It’s been such a very long time since I felt so desired, since I could be free to explore my own desires. I can’t wait any longer.
He guides me backwards until I feel the hard frame of the bed against the backs of my thighs and then he pushes me hard, down onto the bed so that my ass is on the bed, but my legs are draped over the frame. He bends and lifts each of my feet from the soft carpet, and I feel my legs lifted… so high and apart, exposing me, opening me wide. He kneels then, placing my legs over each of his strong, broad shoulders. Arching my back, I close my eyes and wait for what I know will come. His kisses trail moistly on the inside of my thighs.
“Yes, oh yes, higher… go higher.” He’s driving me insane.
“If you tell me what to do, I’ll stop Elizabeth.”
What? Oh no, don’t stop. Please.
He pauses a moment, to make his point, before his fingers part my labia, the tip of his tongue flicking slowly at my clit. It’s exquisite and I relish every flick, side to side, then circling as I throb down there. My fingers reach down, tugging at his hair, pulling his tongue harder onto me until the full roughness of his tongue is driving me wild, lapping again and again across my clit, circling until I feel my orgasm building. The warm flush builds from my pulsing sweet spot, and courses through my groin to my stomach, my nipples aching, the tremors rocking me unrelenting. He tastes my wetness as I come then moves up, his tongue tracing a line up past my belly button, to each of my nipples and up to my neck then my lips. He kisses me deeply and I taste the sweetness on his tongue, his mouth and chin drenched in my juices.
He moves away and lies next to me on the bed, as he does so he pulls me on top of him and I am looking down into his lustful eyes. He grabs a fistful of my hair again and I feel him pushing me down.
I kiss his neck, trail kisses to his chest, which is so strong … and down, following the line of his course black curls, which run from his taught stomach down to his mound of thick manly pubic hair. His erection is throbbing and I take him in my hand, he moans, “ yes. Take me in your mouth. Now,” and I need no encouragement. My tongue finds the first drop of salty dew on the head of his cock and then I take his manhood in my mouth, teasing him, taking him out, licking before taking him deep while my hand grasps and strokes his shaft. He’s moaning and writhing now, guiding me with his strong grip.
“Yesss, that’s right. Take it deep, good girl”. His hand is pushing my head down faster, rhythmically then suddenly, he pulls me by my hair, it hurts and I wince. He keeps the pressure on my hair forcing me up toward him then he releases me.
“Ride me.” He grabs my hips and guides me onto him, then down. I am so very wet that his cock glides into me, he is so thick, so long that I gasp as I take all of him into me, grinding down hard until he fills me completely to my end. My back is arched, my head back and I’m moaning, it feels incredible.
I’ve waited so long for this and I savour every inch of him. He is firmly holding my hips, moving me up and down setting the rhythm, his hips rising to meet me. Up and down, grinding and I feel my orgasm building again as his hardness strikes my sweet deep bundle of nerves. He grabs my hands, our fingers entwined tightly, and he is moaning louder now and I feel him climaxing too. He explodes deep inside me as I come hard onto him, my orgasm making my whole body shudder.
He calls out as he comes, and it sounds like ‘Libby’ but it could be ‘baby’ but the sound is gone and I can’t be sure. I flop down onto his chest, his breathing is laboured and he’s hot and slick against my skin.
“Fuck, Elizabeth, you have real potential.” What the hell does that mean? Was I good or was I crap with the potential to be less crap? I’ll talk about that comment later but for now I love being in his arms, lying on top of him, my head nestled against his chest, listening to his heart beating strongly. He feels so powerful, so full of testosterone, a real man. My man? At this moment I’m glad that he chose me, none of the other 25 women but only me.
We doze peacefully and when I stir it’s nearly nightfall. The light is fading fast and shadows are cast about the room. As I grow accustomed to the poor light, I take in my surroundings. The room is huge despite the dark, heavy furniture. There is a vast, ornately carved armoire and matching eight-drawer chest upon which photographs sit in silver frames.
A carved chaise upholstered in dark crimson silk, sits beneath the mullioned window. There is an enormous chest beside the door and a winged leather armchair is placed beside a wooden mantled fireplace. It’s a manly room lacking a woman’s feminine touch.
Sebastian stirs beside me and opens his eyes sleepily, then stretches and yawns before pulling me toward him and planting a kiss on my shoulder.
“Come, let’s go and eat, I’m ravenous,” he says, and he climbs out of bed and retrieves his jeans from the tangled mess of clothes on the floor and puts them on. Then he takes my hand and pulls me reluctantly from the bed.
“There’s a bathroom through there,” he indicates to a door next to the armoire. “Freshen up and put on the robe behind the door. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Before I can answer he turns and leaves. He seems distant, dismissive almost and I feel the old feelings of self-doubt creep back. What we did was amazing and I want him to share the glow I feel. I feel so insecure yet know that the feeling is irrational. I need to get a grip!
The bathroom is vast and I wonder if it was originally another bedroom. ‘Bedchamber’ is what it would have been called in days gone by. The white enamelled bath sits in the centre of the bathroom, on grey marble floor tiles – its’ weight is supported by curved black wrought iron legs, with brass ball and cla
w feet. I wonder if it is original or reproduction but it looks authentic. There are modern touches, I notice, such as twin basins with glass shelves above each.
On one shelf sits a variety of Sebastian’s shaving equipment, aftershave and a comb. On the neighbouring shelf are a selection of female perfumes in glass bottles, Chanel and Christian Dior. There is a bone-handled hairbrush and a silver cased lipstick. I pull off the lid and twist, it is a bright blood red and I can see it’s been used. The thought occurs to me that these may be Libby’s perfume and cosmetics. I wonder if he is therefore keeping his dead wife’s toiletries, and if so it is macabre. If not Libby’s then which other woman could these belong to? Evidently it’s a woman with whom Sebastian is intimate, or they wouldn’t be in his private bathroom. This is another thing to quiz him about and the more I reflect, I wonder also if the silk robe hanging on a hook behind the door also belongs to the other woman.
The warm water feels good. Cleansing. As instructed, I slip on the short black silk robe and tie the belt. It has a single red rose embroidered on the right breast and it feels luxurious and cool against my skin but a shiver travels down my spine as I ponder the provenance of it.
Studying myself in the mirror, the flushed, sex-tousled haired woman I see staring back at me - is the woman who has been waiting to be freed for seventeen long years. I blow the vamp a kiss in the mirror and head downstairs to find Sebastian.
A delicious smell greets me when I walk into the kitchen and I realise that I am ravenous. Sebastian is stood over the range, stirring something in a heavy copper pan and I kiss him on the back of his neck, my arms encircling his narrow hips as I peer into the pan to see what he is cooking.
“Hope you’re hungry, Elizabeth, I make a mean bolognaise sauce!”
“Mmm, it smells yummy and I’m starving. I can’t think why!” I wink at him and he gives me a sexy wry smile.
