Distractions (15 page)

She loved fucking when David had no choice but to come. She never grumbled when he didn’t bring her to orgasm. She preferred him to be overwhelmed. She preferred him caught up in the act. Often she’d come faster knowing he was lost in the thrill of fucking her. She lay on him truly happy. None of the thoughts and jealousies she’d indulged before their fun had returned to disturb her.

David held her tightly, his eyes were closed. His body heaved, taking in great lung-filling breaths and he perspired. He was still the beast. The beast at rest.

Sally was now lost for words. Not only words, but actions. How does one act in such a circumstance? She had been left out in the cold, but she hadn’t slipped away. She had liked watching them. But now the room was so still. She listened to the
surf, surprised. It was as if, for a time, the ocean had been calm and now it roared once again. How intrusive the sound seemed now. How intrusive Sally herself seemed. These two exhausted lovers excluded her. She felt ashamed of her behaviour. She’d shown David more than he was entitled to have seen. She felt she had blown her mystery.

David had chosen Emma over Sally. Now Sally could only watch as Emma’s hand played with David. Emma had begun to stroke his shaft rhythmically, though it was spent. There was a potency, even now, in David’s recumbent figure, in the rise and fall of his chest. Had she been sure of a welcome she may have gone to lay down with them. Some very simple thing was occurring, something attractive, something vital and she wanted to share in it. She’d been experiencing such moments with Emma all week and now that she was excluded from it, she craved the tenderness.

She wanted to show her feelings for David, to share once again with Emma. Now that everything had calmed down she no longer felt the resentment towards Emma. She was remembering, instead, the first lovely night they had spent together as adult lovers. Just two days ago! Though she was loath to ever admit as much verbally, the sleepless night
she’d shared with Emma was the loveliest she’d ever spent with anyone. She’d never felt as much tenderness towards another. She’d never received such pleasure from another. She’d never known herself to give so much pleasure and to derive so much joy and pleasure from that giving. Watching Emma and David, their bodies pressed together, David’s hand roaming over Emma’s arse, Emma’s stroking of David, watching them kiss, witnessing David’s fingers emerge glistening from a foray between Emma’s legs, Sally was becoming flushed and eager.

‘You two are so beautiful,’ Sally said, spontaneously. Her voice sounded gravelly, like she had just woken. She meant what she said, too. They both had such lovely bodies, which were superbly matched, each being an expression of all that was attractive in their sex.

‘Thank you, baby,’ said Emma, reaching out her hand, and beckoning her with her finger.

David could not find any words. He’d forgotten till then that they were with company. Not forgotten. No. But … he was untouched by her presence. He knew she was there, liked that she was there, but had taken it as his due. He was feeling very kingly, very grand. Now to acknowledge her presence was to dispel the feeling.

Sally managed to step over to Emma, though her stomach was a flutter with a million butterflies. The movement was akin to stepping into a painting, or having fallen in love with a character in a play, having that character turn to you and invite you on stage. Sally had no way of knowing how to behave. So she sat cross-legged next to Emma.

‘I can’t see you if you sit there, beautiful,’ said Emma, who had laid her head down on David’s chest again.

Sally moved. She sat beside David and was close enough to a glass of wine to take it up in her hand and sip it. She then cradled the glass in her lap as though it were a safety jacket thrown from the deck of ship – she was in uncharted waters.

Sally noted David’s eyes following her. But he had otherwise left her alone. No word, nor wordy look had been shared, so she sat uncomfortably beside the lovers, tall and straight, hands holding her sarong down, till David reached out and touched her knee, if only briefly. Her body seemed to collapse in on itself, like an office block demolished, shoulders, head and spine falling into her lap. Again she had trouble finding words, not because of social restraints, but because none
were necessary. She sat folded into a ball, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, hoping to be petted again, ready to purr. He touched her head lightly, caressing her blonde hair, playing with the gorgeous masses of gold.

Emma had continued her less than idle manipulations of her husband’s cock. Though he had not become hard he had certainly filled out, becoming heavier, thicker and more encouraging.

All the while David was consciously suppressing his fears. He was sure this kind of behaviour was inherently self-destructive. The path he had taken tonight ended at a precipice. He had set notions about what women would allow, what transgressions they could forgive and what levels of restraint they expected of their mate. His notions suited Sally’s public face perfectly, and suited the Emma he wanted to believe in, but suited neither woman in this particular instance. He intuited rather than recognised that this unusual turn of events may just be an exception to every rule he had ever set. He therefore suppressed his thoughts and let someone else decide the limits of the moment. Sally would not take up his slack. Emma would not either. Until forced to.

Emma was watching her husband’s hand
playing with Sally’s hair. Emma would have liked very much to have kissed Sally’s soft lips, felt her soft cheek against her own, felt her soft palm on her breast. To exchange brute erotic force for sweet caresses and to then switch back would be a delight. To experience both at the one time would be pure self-indulgence.

She was feeling very tender towards her friend. They had had their disagreement, fought over David, and Emma had won. She’d received her sensual trophy and had nothing but praise for her opponent. She’d very much like to share her husband with her friend. Very much. She saw the three of them together, kissing and touching and rolling about on the large bed upstairs, flesh on flesh, no one moment would any of them be alone, they’d be entangled, united and messy. If this moment could last, if Sally would loosen the bonds which tied her, if David could turn a blind eye, if Sally could love her as she had done in private … There were a few too many ifs.

‘Is it bed time, darling?’ she asked David.

His body stiffened a little at the suggestion. He didn’t want to go to bed. He’d just been fantasising about having these two sweet women fighting over him – a blonde head and a brunette head hovering
over his groin; four lips, two tongues, two warm mouths kissing and sucking; two naughty faces looking up at him.

Sally’s refined beauty was once again manifest. He held her blonde tresses in his hand. She had kissed his fingertips, having dipped them in wine, and her blue eyes had fixed on him. His wife’s sensual beauty was intoxicating. Her body was pressed heavily against his own, her naughty fingers were on his cock, her brown curls were falling over his chest. He was bathing in two distinct forms of beauty.

‘Yes. We should go up now,’ he heard himself reply, somehow knowing these words would be regretted, not tomorrow, nor the following day, but further down the road, much further along when he would remember this moment with a stab of pain at his missed opportunity.

TWENTY

The following morning would prove to be an awkward one for all those staying at the beach house. There was no harmony between the couples and even less between friends. Too much had happened the night before and far too little had been said about it. Emma recognised David’s mood as soon as she woke to find him nearly dressed.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked, sleepily.

‘Yes, baby. Fine. How are you?’ he replied, tying the laces of his dilapidated boat shoes.

‘If you were fine you’d still be in bed with
me,’ she said, sounding annoyed. Her head was pounding.

‘It’s ten. We can’t sleep all day,’ he said.

‘Oh, but we can,’ she said, reaching out her hand.

‘I’m up, Emma. I’m going downstairs to see what there is to eat. I’m starving.’ He blew her a kiss and escaped out the door.

Emma could only stare at the space where he had been standing. She was astonished by his evident desire to be somewhere else. When they had reached bed last night David had rolled onto her and had made love to her slowly and tenderly. He’d been wrapped up in her. They had kissed with great passion and she had come before him, nearly reaching a second as he held her tightly and thrust those final violent thrusts to bring him all the way. No words had been spoken. Kisses were their ‘goodnight’, then sleep had overtaken them both.

How strange to wake to a cold bed? She climbed reluctantly out of bed and headed to the shower.

In the other bedroom Mark had woken with a thumping head and a throbbing hard-on. He had rolled over and held his wife in his arms, spooning her. She had felt him pressed against her but
had ignored him. He had played with her breasts, nibbled on her neck, but having received no encouragement the hard-on subsided. He needed water and a pee. He had struggled out of bed and had satisfied both needs in the en suite. Returning to the bedroom he collapsed into bed and tried to touch his wife but she shook him off.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked.

‘Why did you have to drink so much? You were embarrassing.’

‘Did I embarrass you in front of your friends? Did I, Princess?’ he replied, instantly irritated that she could be annoyed at anything he had done.

‘You embarrassed yourself.’

‘So I got drunk. What of it? No one cares. Anyway, I only got drunk because I was so bored. These friends of yours are so stuck up. Don’t they know how to have fun?’ he said, grabbing her arse.

‘We had lots of fun after you passed out,’ she said, wriggling away from him.

‘What did you do? Play
Trivial Pursuit
?’

‘We had a threesome.’ There was a deadened tone to her voice.

‘Did you now!’ he said, grabbing her again.

‘Yeah. I now know what all the fuss is about.’

‘What fuss?’

‘The fuss about big cocks, darling,’ she said, sounding very bored. ‘Why women go on and on about them.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because David’s cock filled me like no other ever has,’ she said, and felt her husband enter her.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Doesn’t that fill you, baby?’

‘Are you in yet?’ she asked, a bitter note highlighting her words. Mark could take a joke, he could, but wasn’t this going too far? He rolled over, taking her with him, rolling over her and climbing onto her. She lay on her stomach. With one hand he held her head down, and with the other he held her hip. He thrust his hips against her, pushing his cock deep.

‘Feel that?’ he said. Sally made no sound. ‘No?’

He pulled her hips up and crouched over her as David had crouched over Emma. He pressed his cock into her again. This hit the cervix.

‘You felt that, right?’ he asked.

‘Get off me, you jerk!’ she said, and pulled herself away from him. He could see she was crying. His whole demeanour changed.

‘Baby! I was joking. I was joking.’ He laughed to
try to make the whole thing light. ‘I didn’t know. Don’t cry, baby.’ But she wasn’t to be assuaged by any of his appeals, for in truth, she had no real idea why she was crying. They’d played that game before. They’d played many stupid sex games in the past. But today she felt dreadful. The tears would not stop. She hid her face in the pillow and Mark lay beside her, feeling terrible for something he had not done.

Everyone ate breakfast alone and at different times. David had been the first one down. He’d expected to find Sally bustling around the main room but to his surprise there was no sign of her. He’d have enjoyed being fussed about by her this morning. The added sexual charge would have been fun. She’d have touched his hand as she filled a glass with fresh orange juice. He might have touched her inner thigh as though by accident as she put toast on his plate. But instead he ate a bowl of cereal in silence, standing up in the kitchen, then walked down to the beach and contemplated the surf. He knew something had gone awry. He had gone awry.

Mark had tired of Sally’s morbid state and had gallantly offered to make her breakfast. But had been told to go down and get his own. Which
he did. Then, having conferred with the back of Sally’s head, drove off to buy some seafood for lunch.

Emma had a coffee on the balcony. She could see David on the beach. He cut a lonely figure and, though his back called for her, she restrained herself. She felt sure she could make everything better, but that is what bugged her. Nothing was wrong. Sally and David had manufactured a problem. If they wanted to fuck each other all they had to do was be honest with her.

Or not even that. They didn’t even have to tell her. They had to be honest with themselves. They had to act. Their not fucking was more offensive to her than the thought of the two sneaking off somewhere by themselves.

Now she was caught in the middle. Now she was the cause of two people she loved not getting what they wanted. And all this idiocy was to keep up the facade of marriage. Sure, life would be more complicated if they acted upon their desires, but life is dull without complications. Had she stopped herself from fucking Jason, or Sally? Or any number of others? Did it make her life more complicated? Hell, yes. But delightfully so. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only blessing the morning had brought forth was that Mark had gone out. She’d heard him leave. The rest was shit. The coffee she’d made herself was far too bitter. Her husband was acting like a child. Her friend was a coward. There were clouds on the southern horizon and she felt she was more irritable than normal. The very same deep sense of irritation she’d experienced month after month, year after year since her teens. But she was thinking far more clearly now, she thought. She was not going to be forced into motherhood, for one. That was that. She wasn’t going to be the wife David wanted her to be. She would make him the husband she wanted him to be. Everything was falling into place. If she looked at the world dispassionately she saw that everyone was fucked. Every damn person she’d ever met had disappointed her. Every damn one.