I don't know how long I had been asleep but suddenly Marcus appeared, kneeling at my side, smiling. “Are you feeling better? Here, drink this.” I managed to sit upright and took the drink willingly. My throat was dry.
“What is it?”
“It’s just a refreshing drink. I thought you may need one. Are you feeling better?”
I was feeling better. No nausea. No dizziness. I felt warm and comfortable, and not shivering anymore. He took the glass from me and took my hand. I looked around for Chas, not in a panic mode, more out of curiosity. “Where did Chas get to?” I asked.
“He had another whisky and promptly fell asleep in the other room. I am beginning to think I am a bad effect on you two.” He smiled as he stood up, and walked over to the chair I had been admiring earlier, before my fainting spell. It was a strange shape, like nothing I had seen before. It was tall, at least six feet and covered in studded deep burgundy leather, with a canopy which made it all the more mysterious.
“Do you like it? It’s called a Porter’s Chair. I found it in Europe. It came from a very old hotel in Vienna which was having a refurbish. It is very comfortable, come, try it.”
He held out his hand, and without hesitating, I rose and walked over to this man, this man who was at least twenty years my senior, and of whom I knew nothing about whatsoever.
The light had well and truly vanished and I had no idea of time. I noticed the room was dimmer, and flickering candles cast shadows that danced on the walls and ceiling, and sandalwood incense filled the air. Chas, or Marcus, must have removed my sandals after the fainting spell, as I felt my toes tingle against the soft pile as I walked the few paces to stand in front of Marcus, who was now sitting in the chair.
I hadn't noticed earlier when I awoke, but Marcus had changed into a long satin dressing gown, decorated with fine embroidery of oriental characters and dragons. He took hold of my hands and leant forward to kiss each one. I shivered, not out of coldness but something else.
“Are you going to kill us?” I whispered. I don't know what made me say it, but something in me felt a need to know. Marcus looked more hurt than anything. “Good heavens, woman. What made you ask that?”
Goosebumps tingled my arms and ran down my spine. I could have left, should have left maybe, but fear and curiosity are strange bedfellows, and curiosity will usually win over in the end. “I don't know . . . I'm sorry, Marcus, I . . . ,” but I was lost for words, feeling foolish and embarrassed.
He patted his left knee. “Come, sit here,” he said gently, never losing eye contact with me. I flattened my dress down as far as possible and gingerly sat on his left leg, feeling his hand on the small of my back, as if to support me. “How long have you and Chas been together?” His voice was soft and his tone was measured with that still unplaceable accent. Our heads were close, and I could smell the sweet fragrance of Southern Comfort on his breath.
“Since the New Year. We met at a party.” I whispered, holding down the hem of my dress.
“Put your arm around my neck, you will feel more comfortable.” I obeyed without question. I didn't want to give the impression I was scared or mistrusting again. I met his gaze and felt somehow reassured by his clear steel-blue eyes gently smiling at me. His pale moustache was trimmed neatly and seemed in contrast to his thick dark blond hair, loosely combed back on both sides. Many men his age would have killed for such a head of hair.
I felt his right hand touch the top of my leg, gently caressing it with his fingers in a circular motion. “It’s OK, Isabel. Do you know what ‘Free Will’ is?” His soft voice must have had a calming effect on me because I nodded in the positive, but not really knowing for sure.
“I will take you to another world if you want me to. One of pleasure and passion. A safe world where no harm will come to you, I promise.”
He sounded sincere in what he was saying and I was feeling more relaxed now; absorbed by his words, but saying nothing – not even NO or STOP, as you think I should have.
Sensing I was OK with the situation he moved his hand to my face and gently caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. His middle finger moved over my lips and I voluntary kissed it. My mouth opened, and I sucked in the tips of his fingers. I closed my eyes and my heart pounded faster, and the Goosebumps surfaced again. He leant closer to kiss my lips, teasing them open, his tongue parting them further to touch mine and explore my ready mouth. The back of his hand caressed my inner thigh, and I pulled back from his embrace. He smiled, again, reassuringly.
I bit my lower lip and he continued stroking my thighs. I closed my eyes again, enjoying the experience although something in me knew this should not be happening. “Chas. Where is Chas?” I whispered, letting this man, this stranger, continue to do whatever he wanted to me.
How was this happening? Chas and I are happy, and we have a good relationship which seems to be going somewhere. Sex has been good . . . it’s been OK . . . but nothing like this.
This is another world where it is impossible to tell right from wrong or good from bad, although nothing really bad has happened, so far, has it? I am in control, I told myself and murmured with pleasure to what was happening to me. I voluntarily parted my legs a little wider, now gripping Marcus’s shoulder for support as I was about to explode. Just when I thought this was happening, he stopped and kissed my neck.
“Do you remember Rosa, from the pub?” I opened my eyes and blinked several times, and promptly closed my legs, trying to hide my embarrassment at seeing this beautiful woman appear from nowhere.
“Hello, Isabel. I see Marcus has been taking good care of you.” She spoke softly, and she too, with an accent I didn't recognise. I looked around the room wondering where Chas was. “Don’t worry,” she said, “Charlie is fine”, and positioned herself on Marcus’s other leg, opposite me, and kissed him lovingly. “Can you take us both?” she said, smiling. Marcus grinned. “You are not that heavy my dear if that’s what you mean.” But I knew she didn't mean that.
Rosa was indeed slim, around five foot seven with thick shoulder-length black hair and a wonderful natural Mediterranean complexion. Her deep-set brown eyes were bright and alert. Her lips were full and moist and her tongue was pierced with a silver stud. She wore black satin pyjama trousers with a white embroidered oriental style top, fastened by red braided loops from the neck down. She looked gorgeous. She turned and smiled at me, then taking my left hand kissed it on each side. That overwhelming feeling of uncertainty returned. I shuddered again, but with inquisitive desire rather than trepidation.
“I want you to copy me. Do what I do.” And she kissed my hand again. I looked at Marcus for confirmation I suppose, but he just nodded a surreptitious smile. I took Rosa’s right hand and slowly raised it to my lips, kissing it once. She nodded, smiling. She took my hand again and turned it over, working her tongue between my fingers. I copied her, liking how she tasted of sweet coconut milk and almonds. She lowered my hand onto her upper leg, and leant forward, placing her hands on my thin clammy legs.
Our faces were almost touching. I could smell her perfume and her soft breath on my face. Our lips touched, and again, I did not resist as she parted them with her tongue and kissed me as I had never been kissed before. As we kissed she moved her hands slowly up and down my thighs, pushing my dress higher and higher until my knickers were in full view. I moved my hands to her shoulders to stop myself falling backwards, even though Marcus’s arm was holding my back.
“You are lovely,” she said, touching my face and kissing me again. I closed my eyes and let her hands find my thighs while Marcus caressed the back of my neck, and I felt a surge of ecstasy as he cupped my breasts – I felt I was