The Red Collection (26 page)

I climax furiously, burying my face in his shoulder, my head full of his cologne and his foxy male sweat as he holds my bottom and my back, clasping him close. I want to cry out, but I just sob against his T-shirt. The car we were watching drove away some time ago, but who knows who else might be around and listening.

Shuddering, I come down again, a bit weepy, but happy with it. I have good feelings about this. Better than I’ve ever had, even in the first days of my marriage.

With a sigh, Perry kisses me, as if setting a seal on my thoughts and my hopes. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers, still holding me. ‘So beautiful … I love to see you come.’

I look up into his warm brown eyes, and I know he means it. And I also know, when my hands rove to his crotch, that he needs to come too.

His eyebrows shoot up when I unfasten his jeans and get him out, but then his smile widens and goes sort of smug, and very, very male.

He’s a nice size. A very nice size. It’s a great shame we can’t put Tab A into Slot B on this occasion, but I resolve to rectify that situation sooner rather than later. Next time we come out for a walk, I’ll have condoms. Lots of them.

I begin to rub him and he cups his hand around mine, guiding my strokes. I don’t mind this. I want to please him. I want to give him exactly the kind of wank that he prefers, because, God knows, he got his fondling of me spot on.

We slip and slide, using the silky fluid that flows from his tip as a lubricant. He mutters and whispers, praising my technique and also letting out some far less cogent utterances. It doesn’t take long because he doesn’t hold back and, pretty soon, he’s arching and snarling silently, his penis jerking and jetting out his cream.

I kiss him as he comes, just as he kissed me while I came. And, as promised, his come
does
end up in the bushes.

On the way home, I don’t quite know what to say to him, and I find myself worrying about what lies ahead for us. Or for me, because, despite my hopes, there might not be an ‘us’. He’ll be getting a flat or a house soon, and he’ll move away, and out of my circle. My job and his university are miles and poles apart. Perry’s hand slips into mine and gently but firmly jerks me to a stop. ‘Why the frown?’

It’s hard to explain. I still want him. But I want more. And it’s awkward. To him this was probably just a frolic, an
illicit
‘liaison’, nothing more. I bite my lip and, just as I’m about to summon up some kind of explanation, not the real reason, but something acceptable and not too embarrassing for both of us, his impish, stubbly face settles into very firm and professorial lines. ‘Katie, what sort of man do you think I am?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I barely know you at all. That’s the problem. You must think I’m awfully cheap and easy and slutty.’

‘Please, don’t go there again. I don’t think that at all. Except only in the nicest, sexiest way.’ He pulls me to him, and gives me a very chaste kiss on the tip of the nose. ‘Now we’ve broken the ice, I’d like to go back to the beginning, and do things differently. Properly.’

My heart thuds. ‘What do you mean?’

‘How would you feel about dinner? A trip to the theatre? A stroll that doesn’t involve Adultery Alley?’

I’m speechless.

‘In fact, I think it would be nice if we took your mother out somewhere for dinner too some time. So she can get used to us as a couple, if you know what I mean?’

‘That’d be lovely.’

He smiles. ‘I want her to think that I’m above board, and worthy of her daughter.’ He gives me a wink. ‘So that when I get my own place and you stay overnight, she won’t be too cross with me.’

‘I can’t wait.’ I throw my arms around him and give him a hug, my heart lighter than it’s been in a long time. ‘But do you think we can still pop down to the Alley now and again as well? I’d still like to be naughty on occasion. And I still like to watch.’

He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Oh, don’t you worry. We’ll
still
be naughty too.’ He slides his arm around my waist, then lets his hand rest on my bottom. ‘We’ll be incredibly naughty. Naughtier than you can possibly imagine.’ My pussy ripples again in anticipation. ‘But I think we’d probably best not tell your mother about that.’

‘Yeah, probably not.’ I kiss him, and the future suddenly looks incredibly bright.

Red Haze

‘GOOD AFTERNOON,’ SAID
the tall, blurred shape at the centre of a fringe of red haze. ‘It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’

‘Er, yes … yes, it is,’ replied Megan, squinting and peering in its general direction. The surgeon had said her eyes would take their own time to recover from the operation, but she was already having some good days with sharper vision, as the spectre of losing her sight altogether receded.

Today, alas, wasn’t one of those sharp days. Today was a blob day, and the figure in front of her remained stubbornly rosy-edged and blurred, no matter how hard she tried to bring it into focus.

It was bloody annoying because the blob’s voice was gorgeous. Why couldn’t her vision clear up for just a second or two? All she needed was enough time to determine whether he looked as amazing as he sounded. Just a flash would do, really. With a voice that deep and resonant, which was playing havoc with all the bits of her that hadn’t had a good workout in ages, the law of averages said he had to be a hunk.

‘Would you like some help with that?’

That
was the sun parasol she was currently grappling
with
. Yesterday she’d managed to put it up in a jiffy, purely by touch, but today it was stubbornly defying her.

‘Yes, please, that’d be great.’

Should she really be encouraging him? She had no idea who he was. It was too late though, because with a couple of deft clicks, he had the parasol securely up and in place, and she found herself standing in a patch of pleasant shade.

‘Er … thanks very much. That’s fabulous.’ What to say next? Should she invite him to join her? Gah, decisions, decisions.

‘Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of water?’ the velvet voice went on, pre-empting her, and in spite of her natural caution, Megan felt a distinct desire to swoon. Since her op, she’d been feeling horny for no sane reason she could understand, and even though she could see nothing more than vague shapes, all her hormones were silently screaming ‘Phwoar!’ at her.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll get you one.’

Cautiously, she edged her way out from under the big parasol. By rights she should be alarmed; she knew that. This guy had obviously just wandered into the garden uninvited, and she didn’t know him from Adam. He could be a serial murderer or a rapist or a crack addict intent on harming a woman who was clearly half blind, completely vulnerable, and easy pickings.

‘Oh, please don’t worry,’ said the delicious voice. ‘Let me help. I know this house and the owner. I can get a glass myself. I won’t be a moment.’

‘Er … It’s OK, I’ll get it,’ Megan insisted, thinking,
Why ask me, if you know your way around, you perverse bugger!

Now this was a worry, actually. She couldn’t have him meandering around the house, unsupervised. There were all
sorts
of easily picked-up treasures, and this guy could be a thief, never mind a murderer or rapist, even if he said he knew Sylvia. She decided to go with him, even though there was probably nothing on earth she could do to stop him just taking what he wanted. Especially as it dawned on her now, peering in his general direction, just how big and lofty a shape he actually was. And he hadn’t mentioned Sylvia’s name at all.

For an instant, her focus sharpened, the red disappeared, and she got a flash of a tall, tall man with a massive frame. His face was broad, and his hair, what she could make of it, was short and dark. His big body was clad all in khaki, probably a shirt and combats, and just before the brief instant of clarity was gone again, she got the impression of a wide, white smile and a pair of dark, compelling eyes.

Then all the detail fuzzed up again, and he was back to being an assembly of ruddy-fringed vague shapes. And those shapes were moving in the general direction of the back door, which led to the kitchen. Silently cursing her temporary infirmity, Megan padded along behind him, feeling her way and trying to keep the army surplus-coloured mass just in front of her.

Once indoors, he went straight to the sink, and a moment later, Megan heard the gush of water from the tap, then the clink of a glass being taken from the drainer. ‘May I pour you a glass, too?’ the man enquired. Even though she could barely make out the shape of his features, she sensed he was looking at her curiously, perhaps assessing how he should deal with her.

Despite her doubts, some gut instinct told her she wasn’t really in the way of any harm. She didn’t know why, but the feeling she got from him was more a kind of empathy and
tact
. She sensed that he could see she’d got problems, but at the same time understood the way her pride compelled her to fend for herself.

‘No … er, thanks … Actually, I think I might have a glass of white wine instead. There’s some cooling in the fridge.’ She paused and then took a deep breath. He was a total stranger who’d just wandered in from the lane. She shouldn’t be encouraging him to stay, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘You could have some too, if you prefer it to water?’

‘That’s very kind, but I think I’ll stick to water.’ She heard the water in question gurgle into the glass. ‘Would you like me to get your wine for you?’ He’d obviously decided that she did need a bit of assistance after all. ‘I’ll bring it out to the garden for you. I won’t be a moment.’

‘Thanks. That’d be great.’

This is insane!
Megan berated herself as she shuffled back to the garden and her blanket under the parasol.
I’ve never set eyes on this man before … and I haven’t properly set eyes on him now! I shouldn’t be giving him the run of a house that doesn’t even belong to me
.

She could quite confidently predict that Sylvia would go nuts if she knew that there was a perfect stranger in her kitchen. Her generous friend had offered Megan the use of her country cottage for as long as she needed to recuperate, but had left express warnings about being careful, especially of a local tramp who was supposed to be in the area, petitioning for hand-outs, sleeping rough in people’s garden sheds and even stealing the odd item of washing off the line.

Oh my God, what if red and khaki shape is the tramp?

Megan almost collapsed onto the blanket.

He could well
be
a tramp in that ex-army gear. It was just the sort of thing a travelling person might wear, wasn’t
it?
And as far as she could tell, he had nothing with him, so maybe he’d left his bundle – or whatever tramps carried these days – under the hedge. Or maybe he’d already stowed it in the outhouse?

‘Oh bugger, what have I done?’ she muttered as a firm, even tread brought the possibly dangerous potential tramp towards her blanket.

The large shape hunkered down beside her, then reached for her hand and carefully put a chilled glass into it. Surprisingly, Megan didn’t feel the urge to flinch. In fact, the large hand that gently cradled hers felt decidedly nice. The fingers were big, and they didn’t feel soft or namby-pamby, but the skin was warm, and as far as it was possible to tell by touch, it felt clean and well kept. In fact, he smelt clean too, and not the slightest bit tramp-like at all.

The large man who now settled down beside her was accompanied by the scent of some kind of light, tangy, woodsy cologne, and maybe just a hint of fresh sweat. But it was the pleasant sweaty smell that came from healthy perspiration. The sort that filmed a well-showered body on a very hot day.

Not to mention the fact that it was full of male pheromones and intoxicatingly sexy. My God, who needed wine with a smell like that in the wind?

Even so, as she took a large swallow of the crisp, fruity Chardonnay, her wayward libido kicked hard for this man she could barely see. And who just might be an unemployed vagrant – albeit a sweet-smelling one.

I should ask him who he is, and what he’s doing here, Megan thought. But it was probably too late. He probably had a couple of Sylvia’s father’s antique silver snuffboxes in his pocket already.

But the words just wouldn’t come. It was as if her entire consciousness had gone primal and turned into one big hormone that was responding to the mysterious presence of the large man at her side. And her sudden desire seemed to be preternaturally intensified because she couldn’t really see him.

Oh hell, why, oh why couldn’t I be having one of my clear days today?

‘Will your vision improve?’ her companion asked suddenly, causing the glass to jerk in her hand. Swift as lightning, she felt his fingers enclose hers to steady her grip. Even though she was shaking more than ever now at the strange jolt of sensation his touch induced.

Having his large hand around hers confused her, and, as if reading her mind, he helped the glass to her lips and held it there, like a nursemaid, while she sipped again. The delicious taste of the wine and its coolness on her tongue settled her, and after a moment, she was able to speak again.

‘Yes … in time. The doctor says I’ll get my normal vision back. Or near enough … I’ll probably still have to wear glasses, or contacts, but I don’t mind.’

Suddenly tears welled up in her healing eyes, and the terror she’d experienced in recent months – and tried to put right to the back of her mind – overwhelmed her, and to her great confusion she began to sob like a baby.

A combination of relief and the release of a great swell of emotion barrelled through her like a tidal wave, and she was helpless as the man beside her took the glass from her fingers and then enclosed her in his arms and hugged her against his solid chest. Unbidden, her arms snaked around him, and she relished the rock-like feel of him. He seemed immovable,
like
a safe refuge after a voyage of insecurity. Like life and health after the fear of permanent deficiency.

‘Hey, don’t worry,’ he said softly, big hands moving slowly over her back. ‘You’ll see again, you know that. These things just take time. You just need to trust your doctor. It’ll happen.’