What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story) (15 page)

The new look at work has caused quite a stir, and I feel
uncomfortable about all the attention I’ve drawn to myself.   Several of the
patients even comment about how lovely I’m looking, and I guess the fitted
outfit has shown my weight loss off because most of the practice staff remark
on it and tell me how great my figure is now and how well I appear.  Well, my
body is, but I see big, dark bags under my eyes as I look at my reflection in
the staff toilet’s mirror.  The time actually flies for once, maybe because of
how apprehensive I’m feeling about seeing James and telling him what I’ve
decided.  At dead-on 12.30 I walk out of the surgery and into the car park.  I
can’t see the Mercedes as I scan the car park, but the door to a new model
Range Rover with darkened windows opens and I see James step out and wave at me
before moving round the car.  I quickly step over to where he’s waiting,
holding the passenger door open for me, and climb in.  He closes the door
behind me before moving back round to the driver’s side and climbing in beside
me.  For a moment he just looks at me – I see his happy smile fade as he
takes in my appearance and sombre expression.

“What the fuck did he do to you?” he growls at me, evidently
furious at what he sees in my face.       

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.  We
can’t talk here,” I say, looking anxiously around at the other cars.  His jaw
tenses, and I see his grip tighten on the steering wheel before he nods and
starts the ignition.

I have no idea what his plans are for the afternoon.  Didn’t
even think to ask. 
Is he taking me somewhere planning to have sex?
I
wonder. 
If he is, what am I going to do?  I really don’t know
.  Now I’m
sitting beside him, looking at his profile as he silently grips the steering wheel
driving us to our unknown destination, and I feel the same magnetism I always
feel around him.  I want to lean against his shoulder, I want to feel his arms
around me again, I want him to make love to me until the orgasms tremor through
my body.  Something of what I’m feeling must transmit to him because the next
time he looks at me his expression softens and he reaches out to clasp my hand
in his own.    We stay that way until we pull into a small pub in the middle of
the Ashdown forest.  It’s beautiful here, especially in the autumn when all the
leaves on the trees are changing colour to rich gold and red before they fall
to the ground at the onset of winter.  The pub is tiny, with just one main
sitting room area where we find an alcove to sit in.  We order drinks and a
bowl of soup each before settling in and finally turning to really look at each
other.  Before I can say a word he is pulling me towards him and crushing my
lips to his own.  All my protests are silenced as his lips begin to move
against mine, and rational thought is lost to sensation as I respond enthusiastically. 
I move closer to him, wanting to press myself against him and feel that same
urgent press from him against me.  It’s only the slightly embarrassed coughing
of the waitress bringing our soup over that breaks us apart. 

Jesus, we were nearly dry humping in a pub
, I
realise, flushing with embarrassment while James murmurs our thanks to her. 
She gives him a coquettish smile, clearly not put off James in any way, having
seen him making out with me.  I want to growl at her.  He laughs when he looks
at me and sees my expression.

“I only have eyes for you, Lily,” he says, kissing me
again.  I have to grip the chair to stop myself falling into his arms once more. 
He’s looking at me intently now, and I can see the tension in his face before
he finally asks me: “What happened last night?” 

I deflect the question by asking my own, “How did you know
something happened?”

 He looks guilty for a moment before admitting: “Stuart told
me he was meeting you and Annie at the pub last night, and I just texted him to
find out how it was, how you were.  He knows I like you and worry about you –
it seems I’m not the only one.  He told me Greg turned up at the pub and was
pissed at seeing everyone, but especially Pete.  He said he looked really angry
with you.”  He looks at me hard before asking in a cold flat voice: “Did he
hurt you, Lily?” 

I can’t speak immediately; I just shake my head mutely.  It
won’t help to tell him what happened in the kitchen, and it won’t change
anything.  Physically I’m okay, anyway, even if emotionally I’m a mess.

“If he ever hurts you, Lily, I swear I’ll kill him.”  I have
no doubt when he looks at me that he means every word he says. 

“I’m okay, really,” I reassure him, wanting to diffuse the
anger.  It works, as he reaches out to brush the back of his hand down the side
of my face.  I automatically close my eyes and lean in to the touch.

“I couldn’t stand anything to happen to you,” he says
fiercely, “he doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t deserve a wife who is unfaithful,” I say sadly.

“If he was good to you, if he treated you as you should be
treated, you wouldn’t have looked at me in the first place.” 

I have to smile at that.  “I think I would always have
looked at you, James,” I say with a grin, “I just might not have done anything
else but look.” 

He smiles back at me and reaches for my hand again.  “I’m so
glad I met you.  I’ve never met a woman like you.  You’re all I can think about –
I’ve never been like this with a woman before.”

“It’s just because you can’t see me all the time.  I haven’t
had the chance to annoy you yet.  If you were with me all the time you’d soon
get bored with me.”

“No,” he says adamantly, “I wouldn’t.”

“How do you know, though?  We barely know each other.”  It’s
true; we haven’t exactly spent much time with each other just talking.  It’s
always ended up becoming physical.

“Well, I’m going to put that
right this afternoon,” he says.  “We’re going to stay here and talk about our
views on life, the universe and everything until I convince you we
are
meant to be together.”

And so we do.  We talk about everything – where he grew
up (his parents are titled but relatively cash-poor while land-rich), went to
school (a minor boarding school from the age of eight, followed by Durham University),
made his first money (an early investment in a low-budget British rom com that
did really well and which I happen to have seen and loved) and how he ended up
in the same town as me – he’s a little evasive but seems to have ended up
here because a partner had property here. 

I tell him in turn all about my life pre- and post-Greg, the
boys, work.  It all sounds so dull in comparison to him and the things he has
done.  When we share our likes and dislikes there’s a frightening amount in
common.  He gives me a smug ‘I told you so’ look.  Before long he’s moved the
conversation to sex, wanting to know what I like and don’t like. 

We’re leaning in close to each other again now as I answer
him in a whisper, “I don’t really know.  You’re only the second person I’ve
ever slept with.  I like what you did,” I say shyly. 

He looks at me like he could eat me before gently asking, “What
about with Greg, what are the things you like to do with him?”  I don’t want to
think about Greg or our sex life.  A flash of me spread open on the kitchen
table as he forces into me comes to mind.

“Not much; it’s just pretty straightforward, really.  I
never really orgasm,” I add, knowing this will be bound to distract him.

“You never orgasm!  That’s terrible, Lily,” he says, truly
aghast.  His voice drops as he adds, “I can see I have a lot of work to do to
make up for the last eighteen years.” And he moves even closer to me. 

“I am going to show you just how much pleasure you’ve been
missing,” he says suggestively, and suddenly my body is already responding to
him without him even touching me.  He senses the change in me, and his eyes
become dark and intense before he says, “I want you right now, Lily, and if I
didn’t think it would put you at any personal risk I would be booking us into a
hotel for the night this very minute.  The things I want to do to you, Lily,
and the pleasure I want to show you...”

He trails off as we both lose ourselves in thoughts of what
we’re missing.  “When can I see you again?” he asks, and the words are heavy
with suggestion.  The next time I am certain won’t be spent in a pub all
afternoon…
if there is a next time
.  I remember suddenly that I planned
to end this today.  I don’t know if I can.  I look at my watch, and we really
need to be heading back.

“James…” I begin.

“No, Lily,” he interrupts immediately.

“You have no idea what I was going to say,” I say, indignant
now that he didn’t wait to let me finish.

“I know exactly what you were going to say, Lily.  You were
going to tell me we shouldn’t see each other anymore, but I won’t let you do
it. You need me, Lily.  And more to the point, I need you.  And while I know
this is difficult, it is meant to be.  We were meant to find each other.  I
will not let you cut me out of your life, no matter what.” I should feel
terrified by his words, this intense, beautiful man telling me he won’t let me
leave him, but I can’t.  I’m not afraid of him; I’m thrilled, and I know I want
him as much as he wants me.  He’s still waiting for me to speak.

“Friday,” I whisper.  “I’ll call in sick, and we can have
the whole day.” 

He smiles then, and it’s beautiful how it lights his face up.
 I feel my own responding.  He quickly moves to the bar and pays the bill
before reaching a hand out to me, saying: “Come, Lily,” and I do, without
hesitation.

In the car I tease him about just how many houses and cars
he owns, and he just shrugs, muttering: “It’s just stuff; it means nothing.”  I
love that he cares so little for ‘things’.  He drops me back at the surgery,
where I see my car is one of the last in the car park.  There is no one around,
so he pulls me to him for one last sweet kiss. 

“Friday,” he says as he holds my face between his hands, and
I nod. 

“I’ll text you where to meet me; you can’t leave your car
here if you’re dialling in sick,” he adds sensibly.  I can only nod again. 

He lets me go, and I force myself to climb out the car without
looking back and drive home lost all the while in thoughts of Friday, and
wondering how it is my life seems to be so very complicated suddenly.

Greg spends so much of his time painting, building up to the
appointment he has made to see Annie on Saturday, that we barely see each other
except over meals.  He doesn’t even seem to sleep for more than a couple of
hours at a time.  It is a blessed relief for me, as it means no sex.  As Friday
dawns I am in a state of fevered excitement about the day ahead with James.  I
spend more time than usual getting myself ready once Greg is safely entrenched
in his shed for the day.  I shave all the bits of me that need shaving and take
time doing my hair and makeup.  I still don’t have any straighteners, but my
hair doesn’t look quite such a frizzy mess as normal.  I choose my best black
skinny jeans to wear with a pink top, and I’m pleased with the result when I’m
finished.  I’m feeling nervous, wondering if I should bring anything with me. 
I’m wearing the underwear that Emma got me, as it’s the only set I can show
publicly, but I can’t imagine what else I might need.  With all the nervous
anticipation my appetite has fled completely.  When I stand on the scales I can’t
believe how light I am now compared to when I started.  I can see the
difference clearly now in my body and face.  I get into the car without saying
goodbye to Greg.  We haven’t really spoken at all since the kitchen table
incident; he’s just back to being surly and making snide comments about the
things I do wrong as far as he’s concerned, I’m getting better at ignoring him,
but it just seems to encourage him to be worse. 

James has texted me the address of a hotel near Gatwick, and
as I pull into the car park it is still fairly quiet.  For a horrible moment I
think James hasn’t bothered to come, but then I see the Range Rover parked in
the far corner and move my car over to where he is.  I get out and run to the driver’s
door which he opens quickly.  He jumps out and pulls me into a fierce hug.  “I’m
sorry not to pick you up closer to home, but the fewer people who see us
together the better for you, I think,” he says, sounding apologetic. 

I hug him again, just intoxicated by his presence as he
grasps my hand and leads us towards the hotel reception.  For the first time I
take in my surroundings and realise I am surrounded by luxury.  This is a
magnificent hotel with beautiful grounds, and as we walk into the reception I
am overwhelmed by its opulence.  I cower behind James as he marches up to the
desk, announcing his name and collecting the key to our room.  I feel as if
everyone must be looking at us and knowing we are here to conduct an affair. 
My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I feel the scrutiny of the receptionist
upon me, but on reflection maybe she is just wondering what the hell I am doing
here with a bloke like James, judging by the way she is devouring him with her
eyes.  I’m pissed, and the jealous streak rears its head in me again.  I
possessively stroke James’ arm as he signs for the room.  He looks down at my
hand, and I know he knows what I’m doing.  He smiles at me before leaning down
and kissing me so sweetly on the lips. 

Take that, bitch
, I think, as the receptionist purses
her lips and swiftly processes his payment before handing him the key. 

As we move towards the lift James whispers in my ear, “I
like it that you’re possessive about me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply impishly.

“I think you do,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me
into the lift.   I suddenly feel shy as we stand on opposite sides of the lift
looking at each other.  He’s got that predatory look in his eye again, and I’m
feeling nervous as we stand there and devour each other with our eyes.  I’m
relieved when the lift stops and the doors open.  James takes hold of my hand
again and leads me to our door.  I guess I should have expected it, from what I
already know of him, but when we walk into the room I am again speechless.  It’s
enormous, not a room like I was expecting, more like an apartment.   

“James, you didn’t need to do all this,” I mutter,
overwhelmed by his overt display of affluence.

“It’s just stuff, Lily; it means nothing.  What matters is
that you are here with me.  I just want you to feel comfortable, and since we’re
spending all day in here I wanted it to be somewhere you would be happy to be.”

“I would be happy in a cardboard box with you, James.  You really
don’t need to spend money on me.”

“I know that, Lily, and it’s one of the things I love about
you, but I want to look after you.  You deserve to be spoiled a bit.” 

My eyes fill;
God, what is it with all this crying?
 
It’s been so long since someone wanted to look after me, I feel pathetic that
at the first sign of kindness I have crumbled into a snivelling mess.

“No, baby, don’t cry,” he says, pulling me into his arms.  “Let
me do this, please.”

I stand there within the protection of his arms, just
breathing in the smell of him, and for the first time since I was in the Peaks
I relax completely, submitting to him entirely.  James must sense it as he
gently puts his hand under my chin and lifts my face, bringing his lips down to
claim my own.  The kiss is so sweet and gentle, a caress that goes beyond just
the physical contact, feeling like it touches my very soul.  I feel myself
respond, encouraging him as his tongue presses gently into my mouth and
entwines with my own. I don’t know how long we just stand there kissing.  We’re
like teenagers again who can’t seem to stop ourselves.  I just want to touch
him however I am able, but I defer to him entirely and wait for him to take the
lead.  Eventually he pulls away from me and takes my hand, leading me to the
king-size bed that takes pride of place in the largest room.  We stand in front
of it for a minute as he pulls my jumper off over my head and pushes my jeans
down, until I am standing there in just my underwear, before removing his own shirt
and jeans.  We just look at each other, and I see my own desire reflected in
his eyes.  I’m already wet for him; he barely has to touch me, and my body is
ready for him.  I know I am being completely wanton, but at the moment the only
thing I care about is the need to feel him touch me, press his skin against me,
push himself inside me.   He gently lays me back onto the bed whilst all the
while he is touching me; on my face, my neck, my breasts, abdomen, thighs.  No
part of me goes without his attention.  I whimper, wanting to spread myself
wide and pull him into me, just needing to relieve the ache that has taken hold
of me.

“Ssh, baby,” he tells me.  “Patience.  We have all day, so
no need to rush.”  I groan as I feel his hand move to the place at the top of
my thighs.  He can feel the wetness there now, and I hear him groan in
response, feel the jerk in his already solid erection that is pressing hard
into my side.  “God, you feel amazing. So wet.  I want you so much,” he
whispers.  His fingers trail lightly over my clitoris, playing there until my
body begins to thrum with sensation, and I am lost to it.  When he presses two
fingers up inside me, my body spills over into a shattering orgasm that has me
calling his name.  As I try to recover my senses, he is already kissing me
again, on my lips, my breasts, whispering that I’m beautiful – and I feel
it with him.  I want him again already.  The release was only momentary, and
already my body needs him again, this time wanting him deep inside me.  He senses
the shift in my emotions, and his response is swift.  I can feel the urgency in
him now to claim me.  He rolls me over onto my front, lifting my hips so my
butt is in the air while my elbows are pressed into the mattress, my face on
the pillow.  I feel him nudging my entrance, slipping and sliding as our juices
combine.  He enters me an inch and then withdraws, and I can’t help but groan
at the loss of him until he presses into me again.  I try to push against him,
wanting him deeper, but he resists, enjoying the control he has over me.  It is
the sweetest agony I have ever felt.  He begins to press deeper, each time
pulling back just when I think he is finally going to push home and claim me. 
I can hear small mewling sounds, and I realise it is me keening the loss of him
each time he pulls away, I want him so badly now I actually sob as I try to
draw a breath.

“Ssh, baby, I’m here,” he
soothes, and the sound of him whispering in my ear calms me as I feel him press
into me once more, as I feel the weight of him when he leans over my back. This
time he doesn’t withdraw; he pushes into me fully, and it feels sublime.  My
body tightens at his presence; my nipples become hard, and I arch my back to
allow him to press deeper into me.  “Oh God,” I hear him moan.  He kneels
behind me, his hands on my hips as he holds me in place and begins to thrust,
slowly at first but gradually increasing his speed until we are slamming hard
against each other.  I want it so much, and all I can think is that I want all
of him, my body is his to do with as he pleases, I would deny him nothing.  The
pressure is building again, deeper this time with the pressure of him pushing
inside me.  I can feel the same urgency in him as we hurtle together towards
our climax.  And then I’m falling over the edge into blissful release as I
distantly hear him call my name and feel the warm pulse of him spilling inside
me.  We collapse together, his body over my back, still joined.  I feel
boneless, unable to move even had I wanted to, even if he weren’t surrounding
me within his protective embrace as we lie there, breathless.

Eventually, after an unknown amount of time, I feel James
start to kiss the back of my neck, and we pull apart as he turns me to face
him.  The gentle look in his eyes is so tender as he gently traces the outline
of my body with his fingers that my heart flip-flops inside my chest. 
Oh my
God
, I worry,
I am lost to this man
.  I know it is already too late,
that I will do anything, risk anything, to keep this man in my life.  His mouth
is now trailing behind the path of his fingers, teasing and tantalising as my
body once more responds to him. 

He moves down the bed, pushing his face into the top of my
thighs and breathing deeply.  “I love the scent of me on you,” he murmurs, “the
combination is intoxicating.  I want to possess you completely, Lily,” he says,
and his words are so erotic they have my thighs parting again to give him
access.  The gasp I hear in response is not a gasp of erotic pleasure but a
sound of shock.  I push myself up onto my elbows to discover the source of his
surprise, only to find him staring at the bruises on my inner thighs, now
purple and yellow.

“Did he do this?” he literally growls at me, sounding
furious.  I grab the bedclothes and pull them over my body, feeling ashamed.  “I
asked if he did this,” he says again, his voice quietly menacing this time but
no less angry.

“Just leave it,” I try to say, not wanting to talk about it.

“No Lily, I need to know what he did to you.”

“Why?  Why do you need to know?” My voice sounds small; I
just want the conflict and thoughts of Greg to go away.  I want to return to my
erotic bubble of a few minutes ago.

“Does he hurt you like this often, Lily?” he asks, his voice
softer now.

“No,” I try to reassure him, “he was just angry after the
pub.”  I see his hand clench and his eyes close as he seeks to control himself.

“Did he force you?”

“No, not really, he was just angry, like I said.” I can’t
bring myself to say any more.  I am so ashamed to be talking about this with
him.  I feel disloyal to the pair of them now, and I look at his face expecting
to see disgust. 

His face looks frozen for a moment, “Did you enjoy it?” he
asks at last.

“No” I whisper, and I can’t miss the look of relief that’s
written all over his face.

“I know he’s your husband, Lily, but I swear to God if he
hurts you like this again, or forces you to do anything you don’t want to do, I
will kill him.”  It all sounds so melodramatic a part of me wants to burst out
laughing, but one look at his face and the clench of his jaw and fist tells me
he’s serious, and the laughter fades before it has a chance to emerge. 

He pulls me into his lap and cradles me, gently stroking my
hair before he continues: “I am struggling to share you, Lily.  I hate that he
has so much of you when I want all of you, that he even gets to touch you, let
alone sleep with you.  The idea he hurts you just rubs salt in the wound.  The
fucker doesn’t have any idea just how lucky he is,” he says, angry again now. 

I want to distract him, but I don’t know how. All I can
think to do is kiss him.  He’s startled at first, but then he’s kissing me back
at first aggressively, like he’s trying to make a point.  But then he calms
himself, and it becomes sweet and sincere.  His hands move to touch me again,
stroking gently, and my body responds by pushing against his touches, I’m
desperate to show him how much I want his caress.  When he enters me this time,
with me wrapped around him, he doesn’t take his eyes from mine.  We connect
like that, gently loving each other until we reach our release, with him coming
a few strokes after me.  I can’t say the words yet, but I fear my feelings are
written all over my face as we lie there with our limbs wrapped around each
other, perfectly sated.  I have no idea what the future will hold for us.  We
only have the present, but what I do know is I love him already, with a depth
that is frankly terrifying.