What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story) (18 page)

“Hello, Lily, it’s lovely to see you,” he says politely.

“James, I didn’t know you were coming.  Lovely to see you
too.  This is Emma, my best friend since college.” 

He holds a hand out to Emma and shakes hers warmly, saying, “It’s
a real pleasure to meet you, Emma.  Lily speaks of you very highly.”  I see
Emma blush under the intensity of his gaze and marvel again that this
incredible man who can seemingly melt any woman is currently into me.

“I remember seeing you at the coach when I picked up Lil,” I
hear Emma saying –
Jeez, does this girl miss nothing?
I wonder –
“What brings you to the gallery this evening?”  For the life of me I have no
idea what he’s going to say. I’d kind of like to know myself.

“I’m a collector,” he explains.  “I come to a lot of Annie’s
new artist evenings.  She’s got a great eye, and I’ve picked up a number of
pieces from artists who have since gone on to make names for themselves.  It’s
been a great investment,” he smiles. 
Of course
, I think, deflated now,
he’s
not here for me, he’s here for the art
.  I vaguely recall the artwork on
the walls of the rooms I saw in his house. 

Emma’s smiling at him, and I distantly hear them discussing
various artists he’s collected.  I can tell by the occasional gasps she makes that
Emma’s impressed by what she’s hearing, but I can only seem to gaze at him,
until I hear Emma saying, “Isn’t that right, Lily?”

“I’m sorry,” I say apologetically, “what were you saying?” 
She gives me a smug grin that tells me she sees straight through me and my goo-goo
eyes at James.

“Just that we all keep saying you need to eat a bit more now
you’ve lost so much weight.” 

They were? Shit, when did the conversation move on?
I
wonder. James is looking at me fondly while they wait for me to say something.

“Well, I’m about the right weight for my height now,” I
mutter, hating being the centre of attention.

“I keep telling her she’s getting scrawny,” I hear Greg’s
voice behind me say, as I feel his arm slip around my waist in a rare display
of public affection.  Ethan joins the group behind him.  My eyes flash to James,
and I see his scorching glare focused on Greg’s arm.  I’m panicking to have
them both standing here together, at a complete loss for words. 

It’s my beloved Emma that steps in to save the day.  “Well
she’s certainly looking particularly lovely this evening. To Lily,” she says,
raising her glass to me.  There are echoes of “Lily” from James and Greg and “mum”
from Ethan.

“We haven’t met before, have we?” Greg says, looking at
James.

“No.  James Lattimer,” James says smoothly, putting out a
hand for Greg to shake with the natural confidence of a man born to money.

“Greg Lambert,” Greg says, shaking it. The two men seem to
be sizing each other up, before Greg says, “How do you know my wife?”  I don’t
miss the possessive choice of words he uses, and I’m not sure if anyone else
does either.

“We met on a walking trip to the Peaks.  Lily was sharing
with Annie,” he says, nodding his head towards the place where Annie is
standing.  She’s looking over at us anxiously when we all lift our heads to
look at her.  I give her a small smile which she returns in kind, but James is
speaking again which drags my attention back to the living nightmare I have
found myself in.  He’s explaining what brought him here this evening, the same
as he did with Emma.  Before I know it James and Greg have moved away with
Ethan hot on their tail to look at Greg’s work.  I watch them depart.

My expression must describe some of the horror I’m feeling
because Emma puts a hand on my arm to steady me.  “Hold it together, Lily,” she
says quietly.  I look at her and she just raises an eyebrow.  “It’s written all
over your face, sweetie, and if I can see it, then so can Greg.  You have got
to get a grip; this is neither the time nor the place for a scene.”  I nod to
let her know I understand, and then take a long drink.  Annie moves to join us,
glancing anxiously over at Greg and James.   

“Well, shit, Lily,” she says.  Emma snorts her orange juice
out through her nose, and even I can’t help breaking out a smile.  It kind of
sums up the situation, really.

“I think you and I need to have a talk,” Emma says sternly.

“Ooo, can I come?” Annie says, jumping up and down on the
spot, which makes us all smile again.  I love these girls so much for helping me
smile at a time of such stress. 

The moment is broken by Ethan tapping me on the shoulder.  “Mum,
I’d like to introduce you to Sarah,” he says.  I turn quickly with a big
welcoming smile on my face, only to feel it freeze as I find myself eyeball to
eyeball with queen bitch Sarah from the Peaks trip.  Queen bitch Sarah who was
all over James, if I recall correctly.  Ethan is looking at me waiting for a
response as I try to reassemble my scattered wits once again into a response
that doesn’t sound like: ‘get your slutty claws away from my son, oh and James,
for that matter’.

“Sarah,” I say, “what a surprise, it’s so nice to see you
again.”  To be fair she looks equally pained at the situation she’s found
herself in. 

“Do you know each other?” Ethan asks, surprised by our
exchange.

“Yes, we met on the Peaks walking trip, when you were doing
your training,” I manage to say.  Sarah is scowling at me now, perhaps
concerned I might start to describe her behaviour with some of the men on the
trip once James made his lack of interest known. 
How old is she anyway?
I wonder,
to be going after James one minute and then Ethan, my beautiful
eighteen year old son, the next
.  I’m trying to wrack my brain for
something else polite to say that isn’t:
how old are you anyway?
when
once again Greg comes up behind me,

“That must have been one hell of a trip to the Peak district,”
he says to no one in particular.  “Hello, Sarah, I’m Greg – Ethan’s dad,
it’s nice to finally meet you.”  Sarah shakes his hand and starts to flatter
him over the quality of his paintings while Ethan looks on like an adoring
puppy dog.  I turn to Annie, whose expression at this point looks as pained as
mine must.

“Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

“Sure,” she says, “through the door along the corridor, then
it’s the second on your right.”  I nod gratefully before making my way over.  I
sit in the bathroom with my head resting on my hands, wondering how it is I am
participating in this comedy of errors. 
It’s karma
, I decide, before I
wipe my face and steel myself to engage in act two of the unfolding farce.

When I exit the bathroom it’s to find James leaning against
the wall waiting for me.  He pulls me towards him.  “Not here,” I despair,
wishing my body weren’t moving closer to him at the same time as I’m trying to
tell him not to.

“You look so fucking beautiful tonight, Lily,” he murmurs
into my hair.  “I wish you were coming home with me.  I want you so much.” He
kisses me then, and I forget everything but him.  When he finally lets me go, I
feel bereft.  “Will you be at the gym tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yes,” I croak.

“Bring some dates,” he instructs.  I nod and watch him
stride along the corridor and out the door.  When I follow a couple of minutes
after, the room is still abuzz.  Greg is talking to some new people while James
seems to have left.  I sigh with relief as I look for Emma only to find Sarah
staring at me with a smug expression on her face. 
Shit, she knows
, I
think.  The question is what is she going to do about it?

I wake late the next day.  The rest of the evening had been
relatively uneventful.  Emma had left pretty much straightaway, claiming
tiredness but promising to call me, which left me to stand around like a spare
part on my own for another hour or so while Greg spoke to his admirers and
Annie worked the crowd on behalf of her artists.  Greg had already sold every
piece on display, which was fantastic, and Annie had a list of people interested
in seeing other pieces.  They had all gone for a drink after the gallery
closed, but I had made my excuses and got a cab home, unable to face more
forced conversation.  Ethan and Sarah had already left to go wherever the
younger people were hanging out these days, but not before Sarah gave me yet
another of her sly smiles.   I know my choices are closing in on me, but I just
need a little longer.

Greg is already painting when I stick my head around the
shed door to let him know I’m going to the gym. 

“Well done again for last night,” I say, “it was wonderful.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” he agrees with a smile.  “I’ve been
invited to exhibit up in Harrogate next weekend,” he informs me.  “It’s late
notice, but I don’t want to turn it down while my stock is high.  Do you mind
if I go? I’ll go up Friday and come back Sunday morning.”

“No,” I say, surprised at the suddenness of his rise in
fortune.  It’s all happening so fast.  “I think it’s great for you, and I
couldn’t be more pleased, so you must do whatever you need to in order to make
the most of this opportunity.”  

“Thank you,” he says, coming over to me and giving me a hug.
“Maybe I’ll be able to take you on a holiday for the first time ever,” he says
with a wry smile.

“Maybe,” I smile sadly, knowing
it’s not going to happen.  He looks at me with his head to one side for a
moment, before he walks back to his easel and picks up his brush again. I know
I’ve lost him again to his first love.

When I get to the gym I change and start my workout, my head
shooting up every time I hear the door open.  The minute James arrives, his
eyes find mine and hold my gaze.  He looks stunning in his tracksuit bottoms, which
are hanging low on his hips, and t-shirt tight over his toned abdomen.  I can’t
believe how strong the urge is to touch him.  He starts his workout, but we can’t
stop looking at each other.  He is fucking me with his eyes, and my body is
responding.  I want to get my own back so I deliberately make every move as
erotic as I can, arching my back and spreading my thighs as if to stretch and
pressing my chest out.  The pec dec is particularly successful judging by the
obvious response I see bulging in his trousers as I sit there with my legs open
and my bust pushed out.  I look at him and bite my lip, and I swear I hear him
groan.  When I finally finish I head for the changing room only to feel someone
come up fast behind me, grab my waist and push me into the sunbed room, just to
the side.  I hear the sound of the door locking behind me and turn slowly to
face him.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warns as he stalks
towards me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I answer coyly, looking up at
him as he reaches me.

“Don’t get cute with me, Lily Lambert,” he says as he pushes
me up against the wall, his body hard in every way against me, grinding against
me so I am under no misconceptions about what he wants.  His hands are on me
now, touching my breasts and teasing the nipples through the Lycra of my top,
while his mouth claims mine and I respond with equal passion.  We’re pulling at
each other’s clothes, sweaty and panting.  This is not going to take long, and
I don’t care.  I just want him now.  He pulls my leggings off and hoists me
onto his hips, bracing my back against the wall.  Next thing I know, he’s
released himself from his tracksuit bottoms and he’s pushing into me.  It’s
animalistic raw sex, and I love it, as I feel the same urgency in him as I’m
feeling in me.  When he bites my shoulder, the pain is exquisite and the
combination of ecstasy and pain pushes me to orgasm, my muscles clenching
around him until he loses control himself and collapses against me.  My head
rests on his shoulder as he turns so his back’s against the wall and slides us
gently to the floor.

“God, Lily,” he says when he finally catches his breath, “what
are you doing to me?  I can’t stop thinking about you and wanting you.  Last
night nearly drove me crazy, seeing him touch you.  I was ready to do something
crazy, like kiss you in front of everyone just to make sure they all knew you’re
mine, and that they should keep their hands and eyes to themselves.  Did you
have to dress so fucking sexily when I wasn’t able to touch you?” he berates
me.

“I haven’t had sex with him since I last slept with you,” I
reassure him, resting my forehead against his.  He looks at me, and I see a
vulnerability he doesn’t normally display.

“Really?” 

“Really.  I only want you too,” I say simply.  He kisses me
then and hugs me tight for a long while.

“You do smell, though,” he says eventually.

“You’re fairly ripe yourself,” I say, elbowing him in the
ribs.  We stand and pull our clothes back into position.  “I hope no one was
waiting to use this room.”

“Well, you look flushed enough to have been on the sunbed,”
he observes.  I blush, and he laughs.  “Come on,” he says and grabs my hand.  “Wait
for me outside,” he instructs as he unlocks the door and pushes me towards the
changing rooms.  I glance around, only catching sight of some blonde hair
before I’m immersed in the gloomy depths of the changing room.  I stand in the
shower, letting the water run over my body, touching myself and remembering his
hands on me only moments ago.  I wish he were here with me now.  Then thoughts
of him standing waiting for me outside make me hurry to wash myself, and I
dress in record time.  When I leave the changing room, I run straight into
Sarah, who is leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest.

“Hi,” I say, determined to be friendly, “did you have a nice
time yesterday evening?”

“Yes, thanks,” she says sarcastically, “did you?” and just
the way she’s looking at me with that smug tone convinces me she knows exactly
what’s going on with James.

“See you soon,” I say as nonchalantly as I can before
walking out to the reception.  It feels like a big clock is ticking in my head,
and I know time is running out.  James is leaning against the wall in one of
the archways as I exit, moving to join me as soon as he sees me. 

“So when are you free?” he asks immediately as we walk
towards our cars.  I see he has parked next to me.

“Greg is going away Friday until Sunday morning, this
weekend,” I tell him, “if any of that is any good for you?”  He looks delighted.

“All of it, please.  I’ll take you away for a weekend.”

“You don’t have to do that.  I’d be happy just to come to
your house.”

“I know, but I want to.  Please let me.”  He looks so
earnest and excited at the prospect of a weekend together that I can’t resist
him and relent immediately.

“Okay, but let me contribute?” I ask.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says dismissively, “if I want to
take you away, then I want to pay for it.  I don’t want to argue about money. 
Let me look after you; it gives me pleasure to do so,” he insists.

I give in to him as ever, only insisting we can’t leave
until after my shift at work, which makes him pout because it limits how far we
can travel; but eventually he accepts, and we separate to get into our own
cars.  I haven’t even pulled out the parking space when my phone bleeps with a
text.  A quick look shows it to be from James.  All it says is:

I can’t wait

I smile at his obvious excitement, but inside my head the
ticking clock is getting louder all the time.