Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (10 page)

“I’m with you Beth, I can feel you, you’re
so close.”

I start to spasm wildly and my orgasm has
me falling to my knees. “Ah!” I’m helpless. I throw my head back and give in to
it.

“Argh!” A deep guttural roar comes from
the phone and resonates around the bathroom, letting me know he’s had a
spectacular orgasm. “Fuck!”

Gradually, his breathing eases, he sounds
exhausted but settled somehow.

I take a minute to gather my thoughts.
This isn’t the way I saw this little scene playing out at all. There I was, so
sure of myself and here I am having real phone sex.

“Are you there Ayden?”

“Yeah, I think so, just about.” I still
hear his breathing. “Make me a promise Beth, you’ll never do that to me again.
What if I’d been in a meeting?”

“I knew you weren’t.”

“How did you know?” He’s eager to hear my
answer. I’ve roused his curiosity.

“I called Charlotte to check and, you
should give that woman a raise because she was very helpful.” It feels good to
explain.

“Aren’t you the resourceful one? How did
you know I would go along with it?” I picture a wary expression.

“Because I saw you on TV and you looked
very handsome, but your smile was a little too forced and it didn’t reach your
eyes. I thought you might like to take some time out.” That’s what this was
really about. Not a power trip for me but a way of taking care of him. I just
had some fun along the way.

“You’re very special Beth, fancy you
knowing that.” There’s a heartfelt sincerity in his voice, it transcends the
distance between us. At that moment we are inextricably connected.

“You’re very special to me Ayden. I want
you back here in my bed.” The truth spills out of me like hot steam from a
kettle.

What am I saying?

“I can catch an earlier flight tomorrow
and land around nine. Do you want me to come over?”

“You’d better, or we’re going to have to
do this all over again.” I catch myself in the steamed-up mirror: I’m flushed
but I have a self-satisfied smile on my face.

“Should I bring anything?”

“Only a change of clothes and anything
else you think you might need. I’ll provide the entertainment.”

“Then I’ll look forward to being
entertained.”

 I see his boyish smile. “By the way, why
are you eating, you have a charity dinner at 7.30?”

“I never eat at those things and, you can
stop now. You’ve had your fun. Let me get back to work. I know my schedule.”
How quickly his armour plating is restored. All that softness is tucked away,
zipped up and he’s back to being fierce Mr. P. not for potential but for
powerful.

I sense it’s my cue to leave. I decide to
exit stage left. “Have a good night Ayden, I’ve some bedtime reading to catch
up on. See you tomorrow.” My briskness is uncalled for and the second the words
let fly from my mouth I regret their departure.

“You too, sleep well. Beth ... we’re good
right?”

“Yes Ayden, we’re good.”

“Beth …”

“Yes?”

“Check your mail.”

“Ok.”

“See you tomorrow”

“I’ll be here.”

I end the call, feeling a little disappointed
but not to the extent I will let it spoil my evening. It has been fun, after
all. I’m about to head to bed but, instead, I fire up my laptop, copy out his
email address off the back of his business card, and send him something to lift
his mood.

Prior to meeting him, my only companion
and flat mate was my music: I have welcomed it into my home with open arms like
an old friend who has given me comfort when I’ve needed it, and been here for
me at the end of my working day. Through good times and bad, I have found
solace in the melodies and lived my life to the beat of chorus’ that resonate
throughout the tracks stored on my laptop and on my iPod. They make up the
soundtrack to my life. I want to introduced Ayden to it, I think they are about
to become very good friends. Welcome to my world Mr. Stone.

From:
[email protected]

To:
 [email protected]

Date:
15th October 2012 21.45

Subject:
WHY THE SERIOUS FACE?

HOT!

I’m off to bed with my book and jiffy bag
in hand. I wonder what’s inside?

Have a great evening … be good!

See you tomorrow.

Beth.

X

I can visualise Avril Lavine strutting her
way through the song and that thought makes me smile. He won’t be mentally
prepared for this kind of email and it will throw him temporarily off track. But
isn’t that the idea?

Before turning out the lights, my
curiosity gets the better of me. I Google
Sex and Submission.
And, my
God, have I been wrapped-up in cotton wool? Unsure of what to think, I shut
down. My head is filled with the kind of images of domination which make me
shudder and flinch. Is this the kind relationship he wants? Is he that kinky
or, more importantly, does he think I am?

Up until now, all I had was a recollection
of Justin Timberlake singing about ‘shackles’ and ‘whips’ in
Sexy Back. But now, I don’t know what to
think.

The laptop pings. I have an email. I wonder
who from?

From:
 [email protected]

To:
 [email protected]

Date:
15th October 2012 16.55

Subject
: WHAT SERIOUS FACE?

(VERY) HOT!

I’ve, had over 96 personal emails today and
yours is the only one that’s made me smile. Thank you. Get to bed!

Enjoy the gift …

Ayden x

Now it really is time for bed, although
sleeping with
the after
effects of
that
orgasm still rattling around my insides will not be
easy.  If his voice has that effect on me, what will he be able to do with
those hands, or any other part of his perfect anatomy? 

And what the hell’s in this bag?

I tear it open. Inside it is a rectangular
black box. It’s jewellery, a necklace perhaps?

Oh! That’s unexpected …

It’s a black silicone, egg vibrator with a
charger and a remote control. Ha! A wicked smile is sweeping across my face,
stopping only when it threatens to split it in two: a giggle escapes from my
throat and a surge of arousal find its way to my nether region, causing my
breath to quicken at the prospect of using this aesthetically pleasing and
fully functional sex toy.

I snap my phone free of its charger and
compose a message.

Mr. Stone, your gift is making me blush.
You are a Very naughty boy who is turning me into a Very naughty girl … B. X

Thanks to the power of modern satellite
communications, courtesy of A.S.M.I no doubt, I have an immediate reply. With
excited fingers I click ‘read:’

Miss. Parker, you have no idea … Sleep
well! A.X

Time for bed, I think.

Despite the icy wind, Dan is sweating,
looking like a man who has done ten rounds with a sparring partner. He’s driven
home like a man possessed by some intangible force of will and determination,
having been distracted all day. He’s feeling exhausted due to a combination of
physical excursion and fatigue, brought on by lack of sleep and nervous energy.

Having had an extra, large lunch to
compensate for the fact he would be too busy to have an evening meal, he’s
reading through last night’s notes. For the first time in six years, he’s had a
break-through: he was in the right place at the right time. Last night’s
encounter with
her
was no coincidence. He’d been feeling as if something
was about to happen and, the fact it had, has him feeling pretty pleased with
himself. His instincts were good.

The day’s delivery of newspapers has been
dumped onto the sofa. He decided to forgo the scanning in favour of a personal
approach. He has to follow up his lead, pronto. His most important detail is
written down in big letters on his pad, it’s also etched onto is left forearm:
ASMED1A.

On his phone there are only ten contacts,
one of them belongs to Jack Simpson, a fellow infantry man with a knack for
computer hacking and all things electronic. The operation Dan has in mind calls
for teamwork and specific skills. Jack’s just the man.

His phone rings four times, “Hello Jack,
it’s Dan, Dan Rizler. How are you mate?”

“Fuck me! I thought you were out for the
count. How long’s it been champ?” The voice at the end of the line is
uncultured but friendly.

“Ne’r, I’m still alive and kicking. Need a
favour.” Dan doesn’t believe in beating around the bush.

“Sound’s serious, mate. You in a spot of
bother?”

“No but I know a fucker who’s about to
experience some.”

He’s sniggering down the line. “Oh yeah,
who’s that then?”

“You still cleaning the cop shop on Bolton
Street?”

“Yeah, has its perks. Why?”

“Wondered if you could give me some info
on a Reg? Some smart arse clipped my car and did a runner. Got the Reg. though
and thought I’d pay him a visit.”

“Poor bastard.”

“I hope not, because I don’t accept
cheques.” They both laugh cruelly.

“What’s the damage?”

“I’d say a monkey would cover it.”

“Right. Sound’s like a piece of piss. So
what do you need?”

“What are you offering?”

“I can supply you with a name, an address,
date of birth. What else do you want?”

“Nothing. That’s more than enough for what
I need.”

“Let me get a pen.” There is silence down
the line and Dan is growing impatient. “Right let’s have it.”

“ASMED1A”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s a fancy Reg. What sort of motor
was it?”

“A Silver Rolls.”

“Fuck me, you want to hold out for more
than a monkey. Sounds like you’ve got yourself a rich bastard.”

“Yeah.” Dan can barely speak, he’s so
overcome with a temper which is fast becoming an incendiary device. “Looked
like a right poser. You know the type?”

“Oh yeah. It’s always the pretty boys who
think they can get away with it. He’ll shit himself when he finds out he’s
about to become your new sparring partner.”

“Oh, I think he’ll give me what I want
without a fight.” The sneer says it all.

“No can do tonight, but I’ll get back to
you tomorrow. Got your mobile number, so I can text details or call. Either
way, I’ll get the job done.”

“Good man. I’ll give you a ton for your
trouble, if it works out.”

“Have I ever let you down before?”

“No, but there’s always a first time.”

“You’re an ungrateful bastard Dan.”

“That’s me Captain Cautious.”

“Right Captain. For a ton I’ll get
straight on it. I’ll be in touch.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

Dan ends the call, feeling very pleased
with the progress he has made: the game is in play and he knows all the moves.
He trusts no-one, but has some faith in Jack. Since Iraq they have stayed in
touch; when Jack had needed someone to throw their weight around, he was there.
So, now it’s payback time.

A hungry cat is weaving in and out of his
ankles, trying to gain his attention. “Evening Honey, you ready for your tea.
I’m late tonight, had something important to sort out.” He reaches up to the
top shelf and lifts out a fresh tin of cat food. He spoons it into her dish.
“There you go, eat up.”

The bowl falls to the floor with a clatter
and he gives it no more than a cursory glance: his mind is on other things. He
pulls the tab off a can of lager and makes his way over to his comfortable
chair, feeling optimistic about the prospect of getting back together with his
girl. His Cheshire Cat grin wouldn’t be quite so menacing if it was directed at
someone or something in particular. The fact that it’s merely a manifestation
of his inner thoughts makes for a disturbing expression.

He snatches one of the newspapers off his
daily pile and glances at the headlines: more economic doom and gloom and
concerns about the threat of war in the Middle East. The information is of no
interest to him. He rests the paper on his lap and throws back his head,
feeling chilled lager trickling down his throat. It’s been a while since he
allowed his lips to touch a drop, but today’s a special day. He has cause for
celebration.