Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (29 page)

Just when I think he has taught me a
lesson, I find myself across his lap; the damp skin on his thighs has attached
itself to my stomach and his left hand is keeping my upper body in place on the
bed. This is turning into a very sexy game.

“Now, are you going to say sorry for
laughing at me, or must I seek atonement for your sins?”

I turn my face to his. “That depends on
whether you can maintain your balance long enough to keep me on your knee.” I state
playfully, seeing eyes filled with love and lips curling into the kind of smile
that literally takes your breath away.

The air leaves my body in a wheeze. He
really is enjoying this, but what is
this?

“How can someone so beautiful be so
naughty?” He asks, stroking the cheeks of my bum with his hot palm.

“You tell me. I was a saint until you came
along.”

“And now?”

“And now you’ve spoilt me for anyone
else.”

That single statement has him rethinking
his game plan. The sexual tension between us is morphing into something else,
something more profound; less physical more metaphysical. He lifts me off the
bed and sits me across his lap. “Is that true?”

“Yes, but in a good way.”

“Is there ever a
good
way to
spoil
someone?” He asks, his damp face shrouded in uncertainty.

“You spoil me all the time with your
kindness and your gifts and your body and your love. You overwhelm me.” I take
his face in my hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

“And, what about my ability to maintain my
balance and
equanimity in
flagrante delicto?” Here comes the ‘spoil’ me part I love the most: funny
Ayden.

“Especially that.”
He pushes back my matted hair with both
hands and stares at me. He keeps staring, sensing a cosmic shift in the space
between us as an air of total serenity envelopes the room.

I feel it too. “What?”

“It just hit me.”

I tip up my chin, eager to hear more.

“How much I love you Beth. I’ve always
loved you, or the promise of you.”

I want to respond with something equally
as sincere, but words escape me. I hug him and flatten my breasts against his clammy
chest, hoping the gesture is enough. Then the words come to me. “Thank you.” I
place my fingers over his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

“I love you more.”

***

After tidying up the bathroom, throwing on
a camisole top and a pair of pyjama shorts, I rejoin him in the lounge.

“The food’s arrived, you must be hungry?”

He’s right, I can’t remember when I last
ate. I’m famished. “Great! What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty, time for bed.”

I give him a pre-emptive look and he
starts to laugh in such a way my chest aches: he’s radiant. Before this moment
I would have sworn he could not look any more handsome, but here he is wearing
suit trousers and a smile and he’s awe-inspiring.

He turns and reads my thoughts.
“Assessing?”

“Enjoying,” I answer, feeling caught in
the act.

“Well stop and enjoy your food. If you’re
good, I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

I clap my hands together and tighten the
towel around my head.

“Just eat.”

The food is delicious. He may not be able
to boil an egg but he certainly knows how to order the best food.

Twenty minutes later, we stroll hand in
hand into the bedroom. I tug on his hand but he’s reluctant to let go of me. “I
need to dry my hair or I’ll look like the Wicked Witch of the West in the
morning, if I let it dry naturally.”

“Sit down. I’ll dry it for you.” He loves
to give orders and, this time, I’m happy to oblige.

I position myself on the bathroom stool
and let him finger dry my hair; it’s a small thing but it’s so intimate for all
kinds of reasons. Mainly because I suspect he’s never been close enough to
anyone before to do it. “Have you done this before?” I enquire casually.

“No.”

Details please...

“You’re
very
good!”

“You’re my first customer.”

I knew it.

“A new skill to practise.”

“Practice makes perfect.” He states,
clearly enjoying the experience.

“Yes it does.”

“All done. Can I get anything else for
Madam?” He lifts my chin so I can observe his role play.

I act out my own wide eyed stare. “Only a
bedtime story, you did promise.”

“Yes I did, didn’t I? Get into bed.”

The sheets are cold to the touch but soon
warm once I settle myself under Ayden’s right arm.

“Are you sitting comfortably?”

I nod into his chest.

“Then I shall begin ...”

There once was a boy called Ayden who
travelled the world looking for things to possess. At first, he bought precious
gems, equipment and patents then manufacturing companies and distribution
networks, before setting his sights on satellite technologies. He thought he
had everything he wanted in life: fast cars, houses, fancy clothes, money and
all the take-away food he could eat, but he still felt as if there was
something missing in his life.

So, one day he left his ivory tower and
wandered into a school, and this was a very special school full of special
children and very special teachers. He was lucky enough to meet one of those
teachers and, do you know what she did?”
He taps my shoulder.

“No, what did she do?”

“She lifted a spell off Ayden, such a
powerful spell that he thought he would never break free of it. At that very
moment, he realised he had found the one person he had been searching for. He
promised to love that special teacher because she made him feel special, she
transformed him into a better man and he knew, even if he searched far and
wide, he would never be able to find the words to thank her for showing him
what life could be like. He would never tell her, but she had probably saved
him from a sad and lonely life by loving him unconditionally. Ayden and his
special teacher lived happily ... ever ... after. The end”

I turn my face into his chest, sobbing
quietly while he kisses my hair and pulls up the duvet around my neck.

“I know it wasn’t very good, but it wasn’t
that
bad,” he chides.  “Poor baby.” He strokes my hair until I fall
asleep.

The sound of a car pulling up outside, alerts Dan to
the arrival of the ‘object of his desire.’ He stands by the window in the
darkness like a giant spectre watching and taking in every detail. It’s the
chauffeur driven, silver Rolls Royce. He doesn’t bother checking the registration,
he’s way past that. His nose inches towards the glass. It’s the closest he has
been to her in almost seven years. From up high she seems diminutive and
flustered; the quickness of her step and her fearful expression only amplifies
her vulnerability. He likes that.

At the sight of her handsome escort, he shakes his
head disapprovingly and mutters under his breath, “Fucking Stone, I might have
known.”

In an instant, she’s out of sight but not out of mind.
He draws the curtains and switches on the light. It’s just a bulb, no need for
window dressing. He won’t not be supplying roses or arranging candle lit
dinners for two, that’s not his style. With or without the lights on, his
dishonourable intentions will be the same: to claim what is his and to take what
he wants.

Ten minutes later, the sound of a car coming to a
screeching halt has him flicking off the light and bounding towards his
look-out post. A red Audi mounts the curb and almost collides with the Rolls.
He cannot believe his eyes.

“Fuck me if it isn’t Charlotte. This is turning into a
fucking reunion.” If he had the energy, he’d punch the air, but he’s expended
so much today already and wants to conserve a little for the early hours. He
has a 55 mile drive to work in the morning and, if he’s going to make his 6 – 2
shift, will have to be on the road by 0430hrs.

Chancing his luck, he slips out of his apartment and
tiptoes, as well as he can for a man of his size, down twelve stairs and sits
on the landing outside apartment 53b. Mrs. Knowles, won’t mind if he takes a
seat and listens in to what their neighbour is saying one floor below.

He’s fast approaching that point when he thinks it’s a
wasted effort, when there are raised voices. Five minutes later Stone comes out
of the apartment, looking like a man fleeing the scene of a crime. 
She’s
not
far behind him. They are face to face at the front door, talking, arguing. Most
of their words are lost on the night air but Dan learns something revealing
about Stone. He calls out, “
You can bring me to my knees with a fucking
smile.”
Dan is dumbfounded, but relishing the ‘show.’ His mouth curls into
a knowing smile. “You and me both Stone.”

His words trigger a distant memory. From the moment he
saw her that day in the refectory, eating a simple salad and giggling with her
fellow undergrads, he knew she was the one. The time it had taken him to trace
her, to work out where she was staying and with whom that, in itself, turned
into mission impossible. But, what he did find out was how often she visited
the College Bar and, from that, had numerous opportunities to observe her
covertly, to follow her home; to take pictures and to worship her from afar.

Using the bannister he pulls himself up and turns,
only to be rooted to the spot again when the outside buzzer sounds. He knows
it’s not for him; the old lady will probably be in bed with her hot chocolate
so … he resumes the position and listens hard.

Charlotte’s voice carries the length and breadth of
the hallway and, for once, he’s grateful for that. “
No. Who are you? Wait
there.”

Dan holds back on a smirk. ‘Way to go Charlotte, you
always were a charmer.’ Doors slam, the new guy joins the party.

Back at base, standing in the darkness, Dan checks out
the new vehicle. “Another chauffeur driven Rolls. What is it with these posers,
can’t any of them drive?” He can’t make out the registration, but doesn’t have
to. His instincts tell him this guy is a lightweight compared to Stone.

He sees Charlotte leave, followed by guy number two.
What a night! “There’s more drama here than the West End,” he announces,
throwing a used tea bag into the sink. “People would pay good money to get a
load of this.”

With a chocolate digestive in one hand a mug of tea in
the other, he saunters into the bedroom. Everything he bought has been installed
and is ready. If it were possible, he’d give himself a pat on the back.

Finishing his tea, he puts down the empty cup by the
mattress and reaches into the box of latex gloves. They are sticky like toffee
paper and have to be peeled apart so he can wriggle his fat fingers into them;
they’re snug and need some adjusting before becoming a comfortable fit. He
looks down at them, feeling a wave of something uncontrollable rippling around
his groin. The thought of removing her from her safe little world stirs him
into arousal. He grabs his hardening cock through his jeans and instinctively
closes his eyes. She’s no longer a ghost but a living, breathing, seductive
little girl: his girl.

Hearing the security door shut with a bang downstairs,
he dashes to his observation post. No sooner does one Rolls leave than another
arrives. It looks familiar. His chest inflates and bile fills his mouth,
“Stone! You just can’t keep your fucking hands off her can you?”

Gloved fingers, the colour of stale yogurt, appear on
the glass in the shape of an elongated strangle hold. Dan stomps off into the
bedroom and rips off the gloves in a frenzied display of brutish rage; they lay
by the mattress shredded. His plan of attack is on hold and Stone’s
intervention has put a spanner in the works: it’s a non-starter. He checks his
watch, picks up his rucksack and prepares to leave. There’s always tomorrow …

The
tap, tap, tap of busy fingers on laptop
keys stirs me into wakefulness. What’s he doing at five thirty in the morning?
I throw on his T-shirt and stumble into the kitchen but he’s so engrossed in
his composition that I have to cough to get his attention.

By the light of a small lamp he’s typing
away furiously. I walk over and stand behind him, draping my arms around his
shoulders.

“Whatcha doing there?” I glance at his
lengthy email. Shit! I rub my eyelids and fear the worse.

“I’m composing an email, excusing myself
from the Conference in LA. tomorrow. I won’t be attending.” He continues
typing.

“Why?”

“Because I have other commitments, like
being here with you,” he answers, planting a kiss on the upturned palm of my
right hand.

This is not good!

Trying to conceal my panic, I remind him: “But
I won’t be here.” Thank God he can’t see my face.

“You will tonight. I’ll plan something
special, take you out to dinner. I know a romantic restaurant in Chelsea.”

Before he can finish I interject,
desperate times call for desperate measures. “But, like I said, I won’t be
here. I’ve made other plans.” I hate lying.

“When?” He asks pulling me around to sit
across his knee.

“Ages ago.” Think of something, think of
something. “It’s Charlie’s birthday next week and I said I would help her
organise her party.”

“On a school night?”

A chuckle escapes my mouth. “Yes, on a
school night.”

“Ok. Then what time will you get back?” He
presses me further.

For added effect I gesticulate with my
hands. “I’ll probably stop over and go to work from there. There’ll be wine.”

“Right.” He looks disappointed but,
thankfully, he’s stopped typing and is considering his options. The moment his
forefinger finds his lower lip, I know he’s halfway there. I go in for the
kill.

“Wednesday night’s likely to be a
write-off too. I’ll probably stay on at school to finish off my marking and
sort out photocopying for next term. I doubt I’ll be good company after all
that.” I run my fingers through his hair and offer a smile of resignation. “I’m
really sorry. Anyway, what’s happening in L.A?”

“It’s the annual meeting for CEO’s and
MD’s. Leading players in global communications.”

I present my widest stare. “Isn’t that
you?”

He nods, but his eyes remain glued to the
screen.

“Then you’re taking yourself out of the
game because of me?” I launch a loaded question and let it fly.

“Not exactly.”

“Yes, exactly. If you’re writing an apology
then you’re expected to attend?”

“Yes, I’m supposed to be giving the
opening speech.”

“What! And, because of me, you’re throwing
away an opportunity like that?”

“No. It’s not like that.”

“It looks like that from where I’m
sitting.” My attention moves from the screen to him. Taking his face in my
hands, I prepare for my final assault. “Ayden, you had a life before me,
remember. Your company is everything to you. I don’t want you to look back on
this and blame me for a missed opportunity.”

He rests his hand on my thigh. “I wouldn’t
do that.”

“No, but I would. You have to go.”

“I don’t
have
to do anything Beth.”
I detect an inflection.

“You
have
to do this, besides, I’ve
got Charlie’s party to help plan and books to mark before half term; I want to
tidy up the apartment ...”

His neck takes the brunt of my attack and
his hand massages it roughly. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Nothing will change. I’ll
still love you when you get back. I may even love you more. They do say absence
makes the heart grow fonder.”

He’s thinking.

How long must I keep this up?

“I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to give you
some time to yourself.” He’s folding.

“It’ll hurt a little, but you’re right it
won’t kill either of us.”

“Maybe I should?”

He’s going.

Stretching, I slither off his knee and go
for broke. “It’s your decision, but hurry up, decide and come back to bed. My
alarm will be going off in an hour and a half.” I take a quick look at the
screen and watch him press ‘
discard.’
 

Thank God!

***

Tuesday morning comes much too soon. I hit
the alarm with such force it bounces off the bedside cabinet, and it insists on
torturing me with its muffled cries from the floor. Leaning across Ayden’s
vacant space, my hand finds it and turns it off. There’s the aroma of coffee;
it’s drifting through the apartment urging me to rise and shine. The accustomed
sound of typing holds my attention. Surely, he’s not redrafting his apology? I
don’t have the strength to talk him round, not again.

I make myself presentable and slip on a
school blouse and a skirt, before tying back my hair in preparation for another
working day spent stressing the importance of accurate spelling and punctuation
to a generation of texting fanatics.

With a spring in my step, I enter the
kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Hey, you decided to get up then?” A
cheeky smile appears from round the screen.

“I had no choice, what with the alarm, the
smell of coffee and your incessant typing.” Why do I sound so grouchy?

“I’ve only been up half an hour. I wanted
to make a start on my speech.”

My sprits leap but I suppress a triumphant
smile. “Do you want to read it back to me, I’m pretty good with words.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” He offers a
knowing smile. “It’s still in the early stages.”

“Ok but if you need to, you can ask for
help. That’s what I’m here for, amongst other things.” I blow him a kiss: he
sends one back. “Don’t think of it as a power struggle Ayden. We’re combining
forces. That’s all.”

“I know, no need to call the therapist
Beth, I get it.”

I munch on cereal. “Good. Have you got a
theme in mind?”

“I did, but I’ve changed it due to recent
events.” He’s winking at me.

What does that mean?

I look at my watch. “Look, I’d love to
chat, but I’ve got to go.” I punch my arm into my black Mango jacket. “What
time’s your flight?”

“Midday. I’ll call you when I land, but
I’ll be seven hours back, so I won’t leave it too late.”

I nod, grateful for his explanation.

“By the way, I’ve organised something for
us on Thursday.”

“Another picnic?”

“No, I’m taking you to Rome for a couple
of days.”

I can’t conceal my excitement. He
remembered our first date.

“To check out intercity parking?”

A smile of remembrance plays on his lips.
“Not quite.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. It’s called the
Eternal City, you know?”

“No I didn’t know that.” He pulls me onto
his knee, inching in towards my face with every word. “I’ll pick you up at
eleven Thursday morning. I’ll have slept on the flight back.”

“And showered?”

“And showered.” We laugh and share the
joke.

I trace the shape of his face with my
right hand and enjoy the feel of overnight stubble. This is the first time I’ve
caught him unshaven and I love the look.

“You see, everything’s working out. Now
you won’t get under my feet while I’m packing and planning for our trip, and
you’ll be out there being my Mr. P.”

“Your what?”

“My Mr. P.  for Powerful.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” He can’t
conceal his amusement; the way his mouth twitches and his eyes sparkle is a
tell-tale sign.

I taste his lips and inhale the coffee on
his breath one last time. “Have a safe flight Ayden. I’ll miss you.”

His hands frame my face. “I’ll miss you
more.” Our kiss has to last over three days so we savour it. With immeasurable
tenderness he kisses me good bye, making me regret ever having promised to get
him on that damn plane.

“By the way, don’t be surprised to see a
silver Audi behind you. I’ve organised some security to and from work and
through the night, until we can get you fixed up with some security in this
place.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank
you, what would I do without you?”

He has no answer to that and can only
shrug. “Go, you’ll be late.”

“Bye.” He releases me.

“Bye baby. Be good.”

I blow him a kiss over my shoulder and
make my way to my car, giving my escort a wave as I pass. First order of the
day is to speak with Charlie; she’s my alibi and must be able to corroborate my
story. En route I call her mobile and put her on speakerphone.

“Hey honey, I’ve been waiting for your
call. How’s things” she sounds bright and breezy.

“Oh, how long have you got?”

“Not long.”

“Then, you’d better take a rain check. I’m
calling because I need a favour.” I know I only have to ask, but it’s only
polite not to assume.

“Fire away.”

“I had to get Ayden to go to an important
meeting in L.A. so I told him we had plans tonight.”

“Ok?” She sounds unsure.

“We’re meeting up so I can help arrange
your birthday party, alright?”

“Sounds plausible enough. And are we?”

“Sure, if you don’t have plans. I had to
think on my feet and you were my best alibi.”

“Happy to help, and are you stopping
over?”

“I said I might.”

“Then why don’t you? It seems like ages
since we had a girlie night.” In the background I can hear the sound of car
horns.
“And the same to you mister!”
She calls out.

“So I’ll see you later then? Say around 6
o’clock?”

“Sounds good. Bring wine, I plan on
getting you very drunk.” She laughs loudly.

I’m smiling. “I
bet
you are.
Anyway, I’ve got school tomorrow, it’s my last day and then I’m off for a
fortnight.”

“You lucky sod. I wish I worked part
time.” I refuse to take the bait. “Look, I’ve got to park up. See you later
honey. Have a nice day.”

“I plan to, same to you, Char.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

I give a little sigh of relief, having
sorted out my cover story. If Ayden rings her, for whatever reason, I know I
won’t be caught out. I hate being devious but it’s done with the best of
intentions. Besides, it’s a magnanimous gesture on my part, I’d much rather be
spending time with Ayden than trying to shake myself free from Charlie’s thumb
screws.

***

Morning lessons come and go and break is
enjoyed by one and all; the Head of Music is celebrating her birthday and there
is a selection of cakes and biscuits laid out in the staffroom. I take myself
to a quiet corner to text Ayden a safe flight and send him my love. His reply
is instantaneous, as is the promise of
more
love.

Having had my sugar fix, I skip lunch and
settle for an apple and a bottle of water. My new wardrobe is full of snug
fitting clothes. The last thing I want to do is stack on the pounds, risking
burst seems and uncomfortable waistbands.

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted but I
make an effort to check the duration of Ayden’s flight: it’s eleven hours. I
don’t expect to hear from him until midnight. That gives him ample time to
fine-tune his speech.

Before heading over to Canary Wharf to see
Charlie, I decide to call home to change and pick up a bottle of Charlie’s
favourite Carsi Vineyard Chardonnay.  Just as I’m about to exit my bedroom, I
notice something on my pillow, it’s my platinum kiss necklace. I grasp it
tightly in my right hand until my fingertips glow: he’s so thoughtful. It feels
good to have it around my neck, simply wearing it sends a warm, fuzzy feeling
through my body, much like the one I felt the day we met. I miss you already
Ayden.

After a morning spent unblocking drains
and repairing a leaking roof, Dan is ready for some rest and recuperation.
Unfortunately, neither activity features on his mental, ‘to do’ list. Getting
to his new apartment before
she
arrives home from work is his number one
priority, and that is why he is pushing his dilapidated BMW to its limit in the
outside lane. The finger on the speedometer is twitching between seventy and
eighty and still he’s being pushed to go faster by impatient motorists.

“I can see you, I’m not fucking blind!” He
calls out when the glow from the flashing headlights in his rear view mirror
pierces his eyes. Reluctantly, he pulls into the middle lane and stays there,
allowing his car to take a well-earned breather.