by Demelza Hart
‘All right then, Paul Mason?’
‘Aye. I am now.’
He stood, still with that faint lopsided smile, staring hard at me.
‘This way then, you two!’ The bright voice of a production assistant brought us out of the moment. Paul smirked at me and turned towards her. After a short briefing of what to expect, it was time to go live.
I was surprised that the bright lights of the studio and the unshakeable stares of the crew didn’t put me off, but once we started, the intimacy you experience as a viewer seemed to transfer to us. I really did feel as if I was sitting in a friend’s living room, having a nice chat. That was the problem. It was all too comfortable.
Bob Rhys-Jones was the most relaxed, affable man I’d met, putting me instantly at ease with his lilting Welsh tones, and giving the impression of relaxed insouciance. Dawn Turner sat benignly, a gentle smile on her face, not saying much. I was happy to talk. Paul sat back as if he was making himself at home. His manner surprised me. I was expecting him to be tense and awkward. He hadn’t struck me as a media puppet, but his natural charm seemed more magnified than ever in the goldfish bowl of the studio.
After an item on the best places to buy back to school clothes, it would be us. As the minutes ticked away, nerves started to flutter inside me. I looked at Paul. He seemed completely relaxed. The seconds were counted down. We were on.
Bob launched into his introduction after the segment about children’s clothing. ‘Luckily, I’ve got three daughters. I think we’ve only ever bought clothes for Lucy, our eldest, the rest just get hand-me-downs. Bit unfair on them, really. Anyway, welcome if you’re just joining us. Now, we are so lucky to have with us today two remarkable people. We have all been deeply shocked and moved by the tragedy of the Maldives air crash. When it was discovered that two people had actually survived this horrific disaster, our hearts were fit to bursting with relief and joy for them. At least something could be salvaged from the horror. Joining me now are those two survivors, Paul Mason and Callie Frobisher. Paul, Callie, welcome.’
‘Thank you,’ I muttered, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
‘Good to be here,’ said Paul, smiling warmly.
Bob continued. ‘You two are being called the miracle duo. And I have to say, I can’t quite believe I’m looking at two people who have survived what you’ve been through. Thank you so much for taking time to come and talk to us today.’
‘Pleasure.’ Paul sounded completely at ease. He sat with his left arm stretched out across the back of the sofa, while one hand clutched the ankle of the opposing leg as it rested across his knee. A typical bloke-ish relaxed pose. And so sexy.
I was sitting awkwardly. I daren’t lean back for fear I would sprawl and became acutely aware of every part of my body and what I was doing with it. Nothing seemed to be right. I just smiled and looked at Paul for guidance.
‘You’ve been back over a week now. How are you finding things?’
‘I’m back at work. It’s all fine. I wanted to get back to normal really. It helps, I find. But, err … Callie’s still on holiday.’ Paul looked at me, indicating for me to speak.
‘Yes. We’ve been looked after very well. I’ll be ready to go back to school in September.’
‘Of course, you’re a teacher.’ Dawn smiled briefly at my response but her eyes quickly moved back to Paul. ‘And you’re a builder, Paul?’
‘I’m part-owner of a building contractor’s, yes.’
She nodded as though he’d just told her he was an astronaut on a mission to Mars.
Bob took over. ‘Now, we won’t press you on the details of the crash, but you said in your press conference, Callie, that it was Paul who unfastened your seat belt to let you swim to the surface.’
‘Yes, I was still strapped in when we hit the water, even though I could see the way out of the plane. I couldn’t move. I was being dragged down as I was still in my seat, when I felt a sudden release around my waist. But I didn’t think I’d make it. I lost consciousness in the water. Paul must have got me to the surface very quickly.’
‘Do you remember, Paul?’
‘Yeah. Callie was the one nearest me, the only one I could reach. Luckily, I managed to get her out. I wasn’t sure she was going to pull through. Again, luckily, we weren’t too far from this island. I managed to get us both onto some floating debris and make it to shore. I knew she was breathing and she was moaning and mumbling a bit. I did what I could for her but I’m not a medic. I had to wait and hope she came round, which she did.’
‘Didn’t have to perform the kiss of life then?’ Dawn asked.
‘That would be tellin’ …’ He glanced at me. I blushed scarlet.
Dawn laughed, a hand across her cleavage. ‘There you go, Callie. Given a life-giving kiss by a gorgeous Prince Charming and you don’t even know it. I think every woman watching will be jealous – you’re quite the hero, Paul.’
‘They haven’t seen me first thing on a Monday morning before my Starbucks double espresso.’
Everyone laughed more than they should have. I did the same.
‘You’ve had survival training though, Paul – you were in the army,’ prompted Bob.
‘Yeah.’
‘Did that reassure you, Callie? That you were with someone who knew what they were doing?’
I resented the implication that I knew nothing. ‘Yes, but I played my part too. I made the shelter, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah,’ said Paul, giving me a sidelong glance. ‘It were … interesting.’
I smiled. ‘It, err, fell down during … some high winds.’ Actually, it fell down during a particularly athletic bout of reverse cowgirl. ‘But at least I tried.’
‘Some people would say it was very romantic, two gorgeous strangers stranded on a desert island. Moonlight, a beach all to yourself.’ Dawn was milking it. I could see where this was going. I concentrated hard, focusing on the glass of water in front of me.
‘We were still in shock,’ I mumbled, managing a condescending smile to try to deter the line of questioning. I heard a terse sigh from Paul.
‘Now come on, the nation wants to know, did anything happen between you?’ asked Bob outright.
I laughed to cover it. Paul smirked and shook his head while looking at his shoes. He was rubbing his hands together distractedly, then glanced over his shoulder at me.
‘Nah. We’re two very different people, aren’t we, Callie?’
At a time I wanted to bury it as deep as possible, my desire for him suddenly surged, causing my insides to roll over tumultuously. I wished he’d stop rubbing his hands like that. I wanted to be in between them. I tightened my mouth and looked Dawn directly in the eyes.
‘That’s right. Very different.’
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
Rupert would be hanging off this. I scooted around a direct answer.
‘Well, I’m just sorting my life out again. No … Paul and I are just friends.’
‘And are you single, Paul?’
‘Aye, I s’pose I am.’
‘Hear that, ladies of Britain? He’s single!’ said Bob to camera with a grin. Paul chuckled good-humouredly, but he was now leaning forward, tension evident as his shirt strained across his back. If I reached up I could stroke it, feel those muscles again, smooth away his annoyance.
‘Don’t advertise it, Bob. I’m first in line!’ laughed Dawn, although her lingering gaze on Paul told me that she may not have been joking.
‘It’s a shame though, in a way. You know what we’re like in this country. You two are already national heroes. Just imagine if you ended up as a couple as well. You’d be great together.’
We were forced to turn to each other and laugh it off. ‘I don’t reckon Friday nights down the pub watching me play snooker is Callie’s idea of a good night out.’
‘Yeah … and I’d bore him silly droning on about the Wars of the Roses.’
There was embarrassed laughter all round, but as it died d
own, Paul muttered, ‘Edward III, remember, Cal?’
I made the mistake of meeting his eyes. ‘Oh yes. Edward III.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothing,’ I said softly, half to myself. I’d forgotten microphones pick up everything. ‘Something we said on the island. Something we have in common. An interest in the Plantagenets.’
‘Gosh. No wonder there was no romance between you – you were too busy discussing medieval history!’ said Bob.
‘That’s it,’ said Paul in concurrence, tearing his eyes from me. ‘Too busy.’
I stared hard at Dawn and Bob for the rest of the time. If I looked at Paul I’d do something I would regret, I knew it. The conversation turned to what we’d eaten, whether the nights were cold or not (not that I’d noticed). We touched briefly on our fellow passengers who didn’t make it and I felt a cold sweat prickling for release. Paul seemed to sense it. I felt him turn to look at me. Smoothly and imperceptibly, he steered the subject onto our rescue. Despite being so reluctant to do the interview, he was the ultimate in charm and courtesy. Dawn was eating out of his hand by the end. I got the distinct impression that wasn’t the only part of him she’d like to taste.
At last we were off air. I breathed an audible sigh of relief. After our mics had been taken off us and we’d been thanked, we were told we could help ourselves to refreshments in a waiting room before we left.
I wasn’t intending to. I hung around in the corridor, clutching one arm with the other. Paul hovered beside me, his hands deep in his pockets.
‘Thanks for doing that,’ I smiled. ‘I think we kept them happy.’
‘They ask a lot of questions, don’t they?’
‘It’s their job.’
I could smell him. He was clean and bright now. The light aroma of washing powder hung about him, but underneath he still smelt of that raw man I’d fallen into on the beach. It made my head swim. He was so solid, so close that I wondered if I could melt into him. I wanted to.
‘Paul …’ I murmured, just a thought aloud, consumed by him.
I had to move. I had to go. I turned away. He caught my arm, surprisingly hard, closing his fingers strongly about my wrist. We’d make a scene. I pulled, drawing him with me into the room we’d been given. He shut the door behind us, locking it. I was against the wall. He was there in front of me, looking down, his breathing heavy through his nose, his gaze casting over me.
‘You know it’s all bullshit, Callie, all that crap you spout about us being incompatible. Who’re you kidding? You know we work better than anything, we would anywhere. Can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop wanting you. Tell me you don’t feel the same.’
I could have gone. I could have run. He wasn’t blocking me in, just standing close enough to dominate my every sense. And it was wonderful. I closed my eyes to it, but he was still in my hearing and scent. If I lifted my hand, I’d feel him; if I opened my mouth I could taste him.
‘No, please …’
‘You’re only pleading with yourself, Callie. You’re pleading to convince yourself of a lie. Christ, it was hell sitting on that sofa with you. I wanted you then. I wanted to take you right then.’
‘Stop this. It’s not supposed to be like this.’
His voice was low and gravelly, but his words came with the intensity of a dying man. ‘Shut up with that! Who gives a fuck what it’s supposed to be like? Who cares if we came together through the freakiest fucking thing ever? Perhaps it were all planned. Perhaps it was meant to be. Thrown together through fate. You never thought like that?’
I nodded timorously.
‘Yes, Callie, yes. You and me, we think the same. We may talk different and dress different, but we’re the same; survivors. Life – take it, Cal, take it.’
He was right there, his breath warming me, his body overwhelming me. Again, I wasn’t threatened, only enrapt. I enclosed my hand in a fist, intent on pushing him away, but as soon as I came into contact with that indomitable torso, there was no way back. My fist opened into a palm and I pressed it hard onto him. His heart thudded relentlessly under my fingers. I met his eyes and I was lost. But it was me who launched it, me who curled my hand around his neck, me who pulled him down so that our mouths met so hard it robbed us both of breath, me who curled my leg around his and locked him to me.
But once I gave to him, he took. Oh God, he took.
He kissed me so brutally it could barely be called a kiss, and it was glorious. My mouth was pushed open and we kissed like we were trying to disappear into each other. He held my head for a time, pulling me toward him, not letting me get away. His lips were searching and determined, his teeth rasped, so violent was our need, as if our survival depended on being joined. But then his hands left my skin and were at my shirt. He struggled to undo my buttons and eventually gave up. I was more successful with his flies and pushed down his trousers and boxers. His cock lurched high, almost screaming with relief, searching me out. A laugh of delight escaped me. He hoisted my skirt up round my waist and tore at my tights – they were in shreds after.
Words disappeared; we acted only on instinct. Paul pushed me back against the wall, wedging me between it and him. I wrapped my right leg around his thigh and he grabbed my backside, lifting me fully off the ground. My back pushed into the wall and my bottom jutted out towards him. He was so strong he could move me right where he needed with one hand while the other guided his cock. And – there! He was in me again. Oh God, at last. Oh God, full again, full of him. I threw my head back, my eyes closed for a minute as I absorbed that feeling: Paul inside me, Paul filling me.
He grunted, a harsh grunt confirming his emplacement inside me. Twining my legs about his waist, I locked them at the ankles and wrapped my arms about his neck, binding us together.
He started to move, withdrawing as much as possible before powering back in, right to the hilt, pushing his cock so deep I was pinned to the wall. Rock solid, rock steady. He pistoned in and out, regular plunging thrusts which pushed through my welcoming flesh over and over. I looked into him. His eyes were brighter than ever, alight with his own wonder.
He took a step back, carrying me with him, still impaled, wrapped around him, clinging to him. My full weight rested on his cock and hands. We couldn’t be closer.
‘I’ve got you,’ he rumbled before stumbling over to a desk. I fell back onto it and stretched out, imploring him to fuck me.
Paul pushed my knees back, exposing me fully for him and pulled out. I missed him immediately and mewled in grief, but he acted swiftly, kneeling between my legs and planting his mouth right over my needy sex.
He sucked like a man denied nourishment. He licked, long quenching laves, drinking in my undiluted lust. I held his head there, working him on me, pushing into him, using his mouth to fuck me. I felt fingers squeezing into me and I clamped on them. His tongue circled and rubbed my clit so hard it almost screamed, but it was powerless against the onslaught of sexual desperation. When he attached his mouth again and sucked, I came, suddenly and completely. I sat up with the force of it and a hand was clamped over my mouth, muffling my cry of rapture. As soon as my pleasure had faded, he was back, pinning back my knees and plunging inside me with a groan so deep I almost came again. After my first orgasm, I was tighter than ever and gripped him hard. His face contorted with the extreme pleasure I gave his cock.
‘Fuck! Fuck, Callie!’ he hissed before ploughing into me again, long, as deep as he could, right through, right into me.
He pinned me on the desk, his groans and grunts unstoppable now. If he’d wanted to silence me, he was failing to stop himself. I loved his noises as much as I loved his body and his cock. I’d never known a man so at ease with his own raw being.
I’d come again. God, I usually only came once, but with Paul my body gave and gave. It was ready and it was deep, propelled from my G-spot this time, which had been coaxed to attention.
‘Oh God, again!’ I wailed, and he picked up his pace, wanting to come in
me at the same time. We locked eyes. He snapped his hips, profound and desperate, and then, as my mouth opened in silent wonder and I moaned out my second orgasm, he burst into me. Each spurt of come was accompanied by those wonderful sounds of undoing. His climax seemed to go on; time after time he pulsed within me, each throb tangible and real. Pleasure rippled through me to match and meet it.
Somewhere in the thick air of conjoining, it finished. Our bodies came down, still together, still bound. How could we not be now? I couldn’t imagine him withdrawing from me ever.
He leaned over me, his hair hanging down, his eyes closed as he drew in deep breaths. I could feel his cock, still hard, still embedded. Don’t go. Don’t ever go.
At length he dragged open his eyes, the lids heavy with satiation. ‘You all right?’
I nodded. I wasn’t sure words would come out anymore. I was just a big ball of perfect sex.
He leant over and kissed me, slow, touching, and intimate. I held his head gently and gave him my kiss back.
‘Don’t want to come out of you, Callie. I’ve got you, you know that, don’t you?’
I hummed in agreement. ‘Don’t come out of me, please don’t.’
He chuckled a little and pushed against me. His cock remained admirably firm. ‘So warm, my beautiful girl, so incredibly warm and tight. This is where I belong.’
I nodded. ‘So, what now?’ I asked with a lazy smile.
‘We stay like this forever.’
‘Someone may want a coffee at some point.’
‘Screw ’em. We can’t leave each other. They’ll have to work around our copulating bodies.’
I laughed and it pushed him out a little. So slowly, gently, he pulled out of me, and I was empty again. I could feel him leaking from me and I clamped my legs shut, not wanting to lose a drop of him.
Paul looked around. ‘Shit. Surprised no one wanted in.’ He tucked himself away and did up his flies before handing me some tissues. ‘Better sort ourselves out.’
