by Penny Henry
She twisted her head away to avoid his mouth. His thigh muscle was working against the unneeded response her body was making. His grip was tightening round her waist. Imogen mind stayed cool despite the reaction of her traitorous flesh. She knew Karl's dangerous attraction was no longer a threat. There had been a time when her resistance would have melted and her spine turned to jelly. Now she just wanted to be rid of him. Imogen had slain the dragon of curiosity. "Get the fuck off me, Karl, and get the hell out of my apartment." She summoned all of her strength and shoved him hard in the chest, sending him staggering backwards.
"What's wrong with you, babe?" Karl looked confused and hurt. He always got what he wanted. He could twist Imogen round his little finger. "Don't you remember how good we were?"
"That was a long time ago, Karl. I've grown up since then. Maybe it's about time you took a long, hard look at yourself. You can't keep on pretending. You can't keep chasing girls that are young enough to be your granddaughter." Imogen was out of breath and trying to reason with him.
Karl's face changed. He scowled at her. It didn't pay to remind Karl that he was not getting any younger. "I don't need you. I can still pull the chicks."
He looked a sad and lonely figure. Imogen felt a wave of compassion. "I know you can, Karl. I also know you’re a damned fine musician. You don't have to keep up the act. Grow up, Karl. Stick to the music and find someone to settle down with."
“This is rock and roll, babe. This is what I do." There was wildness in his eyes that Imogen didn't recognize. Maybe it was desperation.
"You done it for long enough, Karl. You can change. How do you want to be remembered - as a great musician or as a dirty old man? You can't keep it up forever." She drew back from mentioning that his contract was unlikely to be renewed. Karl's destiny was in his own hands.
Karl bent his lip and staggered backwards as he struggled to concentrate on Imogen's brutal words. For a second she saw the worried man behind the brash front of Karl Wainscott. Then the old Karl bubbled to the surface. "Screw you, Imogen. I ain't ever getting old!" He lumbered into a turn to walk away before clumsily spinning to confront her. "You want to remember that I know all about you, babe." He pointed a finger at her. "You know it too, don’t you? Yeah, babe, sex, drugs and rock and roll. We did it all. You never even owned a pair of panties." There was a worrying look on his face. "I make one little phone call, babe. That’s all it takes. One phone call and that’s your pretty face plastered all over the Sunday papers. Then we'll see how high and mighty the wonderful Imogen Mercouri is then."
Imogen froze. She hissed out her words. "You wouldn't dare do it, Karl. You'd be finished in the music business."
He held his arms open wide. "Who said it has to be me?"
The flow of anonymous letters leapt to the front of her mind. Surely, Karl would never stoop so low? She hadn't realized how much he resented her success until now. She didn't know what to think. "Get out, Karl."
He stood swaying in the middle of the floor. A sick grin of triumph contorted his once handsome features. He was trying to make up his befuddled mind what to do next. He thought about making a lunge for her. She was wearing a robe with nothing underneath. The idea was sounding more and more attractive in his head. They had history. There weren’t any witnesses around.
"You heard the lady, buddy."
Imogen's eyes flashed to the tall man framed in the doorway. Karl twisted with a spiteful glare on his face to focus on the new arrival. His aggression vanished in the face of the unblinking stare from the stranger's eyes.
"I was going anyway." He staggered forward to aim for the door. "I know when I'm not wanted. I’ll be seeing you soon, babe. You can count on it." He lurched to one side and balanced on one leg for a heart-stopping moment before righting himself like a sailboat in a storm.
Gable stood to one side as Karl negotiated the doors, fell into the corridor and staggered towards the elevator. Gable flipped the door shut and turned to silently regard Imogen.
"I suppose I should be thanking you," she said through gritted teeth. "But I'm not actually talking to you."
Gable raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "What have I done? I've spent the last hour looking for you. You just disappeared. "
She threw a weary look at him. He was dressed the same as when she had last seen him. "Oh, really? Get dumped by your pretty girlfriends, did you, Gable?"
He smiled disarmingly. "Come on, Imogen. I had to be sociable. They did get me inside, after all. And you looked to be pretty well occupied yourself." He scrutinized her serious expression. "Imogen, I do believe you're a little bit jealous."
"I am not!" she rattled back. "I just don’t appreciate being taken for a fool. How could you?"
Gable raised his open palms. "You’d better explain that to me. You're not making any sense."
"Oh, silly me," she bit out. "Whatever happened to the bashful act? You seem to know your way round a beautiful woman without falling flat on your face." She turned her back on him and stared vacantly at the empty space where the music system had been.
Gable walked up behind her and followed her look. "What happened to the music system?"
"I've been robbed, that's what," she snapped.
Gable went quiet. He shuffled his feet before asking, "Have you called the police?"
"I'll do it in the morning. I really can't be bothered right now."
Gable placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her round. "I'm sorry, Imogen. It looks like you've had a rough night."
She glared up at him. "Yeah, like you care." She turned her eyes downward inspecting the pattern in the carpet. "You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself."
He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted up her tearful face. "I did it for you, Imogen."
What?" She twisted her face away before fixing him with a blazing look. "How dare you!"
Gable reached up to put his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling. "Listen to me, damn it! You said you wanted some excitement in your man. I thought you were disappointed in me. I knew where you would be tonight so I turned up and got lucky. I blagged it with a bunch of glamour models. I couldn't get away from them. It... It was supposed to make me more interesting. I know it sounds stupid now but at the time it seemed like a good idea…" his voice tailed off and the helpless look materialized on his face.
Imogen stared at Gable. His head had dropped like a small boy caught stealing apples. If only she could tell him how she really felt. It wasn’t all about excitement. Right now she felt she had seen enough excitement to last a lifetime. She had proved to herself that that the lure of dangerous men like Karl Wainscott no longer held the same attraction. Of course she wanted excitement with the man she loved. But there were other, more important traits she looked for. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She needed her man to be dependable. A sense of humor was a must. Integrity and being faithful to each other were on the list. But most of all it was about being honest. It was that last desirable quality raised the doubt in Imogen's mind. She was unable to shake the feeling that Gable wasn’t telling her everything. For the moment it was unimportant. She just needed him to hold her.
"Hold me, Gable, please."
He took her into his arms, pulling her close to his chest. He kissed the top of her head. For a long moment they clung to each other, drifting to their private place in a world of turmoil. Imogen clung to the safety of his strong arms. Their cares receded and they became conscious of a more pressing need. A heat that was impossible to ignore was building between their bodies. Imogen molded herself to the hardness of his frame. She raised her face and his mouth descended to claim a gentle kiss. His hands roamed across her back, pressing urgency into her flesh, dropping to her firm buttocks and lifting her against his erection to hear her sharp intake of breath. She reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and force his lips against her own, using the tip of her tongue to explore his mouth and massage the sensitive tissues. Gable released a low groan and wrenched their
kiss apart. He stooped to scoop up Imogen up in his arms.
He carried her easily for the few paces that led to the sofa and laid her across the cushions. Then he knelt at her side, kissing her eyelids and whispering his breath over her face. They locked mouths and their breaths mingled like invisible tendrils of smoke. Imogen arched against the curious hands that roamed over her body. She broke free to push the robe over her shoulders and down over her arms. The inviting swell of her breasts was exposed to his gaze. Her long nipples had already stiffened with longing. Gable took the chance to rise to his feet and strip himself of his clothes. Imogen ran her eyes over his body. She paused to take in the girth of his manhood and involuntarily moistened her lips. His need was obvious and urgent. He dropped to his knees again and floated kisses to her throat before moving to her breasts and lingering at each fiery nipple. He used his teeth to tantalize the engorged flesh with jolts of lightning. The torture continued as he followed his downward trail, peeling back the sides of her robe until it lay under her like a blanket. They were both unashamedly naked. Imogen's legs parted of their own volition as Gable turned her towards him. An effortless shift of position and his open mouth was covering her burning femininity. He sucked on her gently at first then with a demanding suction that had her lifting her hips in response. His tongue flicked out as she entwined her fingers in his hair, her throaty moans commanding the release of her passion. She held him by the hair, bucking against his shiny face and dragging him into her groin. She rocked her head and clamped her jaw as the first rolls of thunder crashed across her mind. Imogen was in another place. She was in a soundproofed room. She threw back her head and gave a strangled yell as her second orgasm exploded in a shuddering climax.
She held tightly to Gable’s shoulders as the shockwaves lessened before relaxing against the cushions. She opened her eyes and watched him climb above her. She wriggled her bottom and waited. Then he came upon her like a rogue on a maiden in a meadow. His head lowered to her breasts before his tongue slid between them to snake up her throat to find her mouth and lick her parted lips. Then his mouth was on her mouth. His oiled tongue transferred the taste of his pleasure to hers. Her dulled passion began to rise as she felt the large crown of his manhood press against her flaring lips. She pushed a hand between them and tilted her hips. She guided him to her, moving the head up and down her silvery slit before bringing him to the entrance of her sopping canal. She wrapped her legs round his waist and gasped as he eased himself inside her. He was slow and considerate, sliding into her and withdrawing halfway before moving within her again. Imogen groaned at each entry until she was filled with his length and the long powerful strokes began. She clung to him, biting his shoulder as he lifted her with every thrust. He was moving easily inside her and hooked an arm behind one knee to raised her up and totally possess her. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her fingernails were talons that dug into his back as he entered and withdrew at a controlled pace. Her fingers straightened and curled again with the indescribable highs and lulls that came with his evenly timed thrusts. She thought she might swoon and forced her eyes open to meet his gaze. He was studying her face with cool detachment. Gable seemed to be gauging Imogen's reaction to his measured stimulation. She didn’t have time to think about it. Her eyes clamped shut again as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. Imogen lifted herself to match the plunging motion, mumbling incoherently as the escalating sensations began to overpower her reason. The intensity of the pressure building in her loins was becoming almost unbearable. She thrashed mindlessly under his charging manhood. Then he grunted and held himself still as she circled against him and drained his jerking timber, reveling in the ecstatic tremors. He threw back his head and supported himself on the knotted sinews of his legs. His reflexes jolted his taut physique until his energy was spent and his head dropped forward.
"Damn it! I'm sorry, Imogen."
Imogen heard the words in the distance. Sorry? Why was he sorry? They had enjoyed a mind-blowing experience and now she just wanted him to hold her. She had never been so fulfilled. She reached behind his head and pulled his mouth to hers, softly screwing her lips against his. She kissed him sensuously, stroking the inner flesh of his mouth with her tongue and softly biting his lips. Then she rested his cheek against her own and allowed peace to descend on their shattered bodies.
"It was wonderful, Gable," she whispered.
"But… But I lost control."
She couldn't see his face but Imogen knew it would be set in painful self-examination. His voice betrayed the doubts he was experiencing.
Imogen opened her eyes, wriggled out from under him and sat up. She tiredly regarded his concerned features as he rested on his elbow. "Gable, it was a wonderful experience, believe me."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"It will be better next time, I promise.
"For goodness sake, stop worrying. You were amazing." She lay back down and stretched out to put one leg over his thighs and snuggle into his chest. "It was textbook loving," she murmured and instantly regretted her thoughtless expression as his body stiffened. She pulled back her head to look into his dark features. "Stop trying to analyze everything, will you?" she pleaded.
He returned her open look and suddenly his features relaxed. He wrapped his arms round her and hugged her. "You're right," he admitted. "I think too much."
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. At last he was happy with their lovemaking. Now they could rest in the contented euphoria and warmth of their intimacy. She had never felt so good about a man.
Then he bent his arm and looked at his watch.
Chapter Eleven
Imogen pushed herself upright. "What the fuck is that about?" she demanded. "Got a date with a couple of blonde bimbos, have you?"
Gable struggled up onto his arms. "I’m sorry. I was only checking the time. I didn't mean anything by it. It’s just a habit."
"We’ll it’s a fucking annoying habit. If you’ve got somewhere to be just tell me.” She pushed him out of her way and swung her legs to the floor before dragging the robe from underneath him. She shrugged it over her shoulders. "Don't let me keep you. I wouldn't want to spoil your image."
He sat up in amazement and put his feet on the floor. "For heaven’s sake, Imogen. Now who's over-reacting? You're upset. It's understandable; you've had a difficult night. You’re making a fuss over nothing - trust me."
Gable could not have chosen a worse request. "Trust you?" Imogen was incredulous. "Do I look stupid? I don't know a thing about you. For all I know you are just using me to boost your masculine ego." She had worked herself up with a mixture of strained nerves and irrational suspicion and dumped it all on Gable. She stalked away holding back the tears.
"Imogen, you don't really believe that, do you?" He scrambled to his feet and watched her go with a pained expression on his face. “We can be good together.”
She turned towards him and almost changed her mind. He was standing open-mouthed and naked. His body was glistening with the sweat of his recent exertions and there was a look of astonishment on his face.
"You'll never know. She tossed her hair and disappeared into the short passageway before the slamming of her bedroom door put a full stop against their heated exchange.
Imogen fell on her bed and rolled onto her back, gazing at the ceiling and wondering what Gable would do next. She drew a dozen calming breaths into her lungs and tried to work out why she had exploded. She could only put it down to the pressure she was under in her private affairs. Her Latin temperament didn’t help one bit. Life would be easier if she had someone to share her problems with. The irony seemed to be that she was impossible to live with. She rolled her head to stare at the door, half hoping that the handle would turn and Gable would step boldly into the room and sweep her up in his arms.
She was still imaging Gable's storming of her bedroom when she fell asleep. At some time during the few precious hours of sleep she woke feeling chilly and crawled i
nto bed. She kept her eyes shut as she groped to turn of the lamp and pull the covers under her chin, unwilling to lose her dream and confront the reality that she was sleeping alone.
The next morning was Saturday. There was no need to get up early. Then she recalled the events of the previous night. She rolled out of bed feeling depressed and irritable. She dragged on her robe before walking through the apartment. There was no trace of Gable's presence in the lounge. No sign that he had ever been there. He had even tidied up before he left. She made her phone call to the police and wandered through to the kitchen to make coffee. She carried a steaming mug to the bedroom and considered going back to bed. The police would be here in an hour. She needed to wake herself up. There was time for a leisurely shower before then.
Imogen stepped under the energizing spray and allowed her muscles to relax. She hadn’t yet decided what to do with her day. It had been a while since she’d seen her grandparents. That’s what she’d do later - if only Gable would get out of her brain. What sort of a man was he anyway? If he had been any man at all he would have shaken some sense into her and made urgent love until she was limp and compliant in his hands. Damn! Her every thought of Gable seemed to turn into an erotic daydream that sent frantic signals to her erogenous zones. She could still trace the exact path of his mouth on her burning flesh with her fingertips. She had been so correct when she had complimented him on his textbook loving. She had never been fucked so expertly. Nor had she ever felt more hollow and alone at waking in her empty bed.
She turned up the cold water pressure. There were things she could be getting on with until the police arrived. She didn't feel like working on the computer. The kitchen needed cleaning and there was a pile of laundry sitting in the machine. Imogen finished her shower, toweled her skin until it tingled and dressed in jeans and sweatshirt. She had made good progress with her chores by the time the police arrived. The next hour passed quickly. The police were friendly and thorough in their business and happy to spend some time talking. By the time they left she was feeling more positive about the day. She had already been busy and it was only mid-day. She had a final job to do in the kitchen and the rest of the day was her own. It was the clinking inside the bag of rubbish as she carried it to the chute that reminded her of the broken coffee jug. Had it really only been Wednesday that she had first encountered Gable in the elevator? So much had happened in the intervening time. She thought she might have fallen in love.
