Catherine's Letters (2 page)

He licked and sucked hungrily and her loins stirred again. When his tongue found the hard nub of her clitoris the electric jolt of pleasure which shot through her was too much. She came, not as powerfully as before, but a smooth, relaxing release nonetheless.

James pulled himself level with her and kissed her, giving her a taste of her own muskiness. Then he rolled over again and they both slept.

They made love once more, when Adrienne returned from a dawn visit to the bathroom to find she had woken James, who was nursing a traditional first-thing hard-on. This time he wanted her from behind, and she was happy to oblige, her head buried in the pillows. She revelled in the extra depth of his penetration as he slammed into her, his thighs slapping against her bottom and his hands reaching forward to fill themselves with her dangling breasts.

He dressed and left soon after. ‘Visiting my parents in Birmingham, promised I’d be there by lunchtime, so I have to get an early train.’ Looking back, she could see how weak the excuse was, even if it sounded plausible to her as she dozed in the afterglow of really great sex. Now she was running through her mind, listing every unlikely explanation for his dawn escapes, or cancelled dates over the next six weeks. She had never stopped to question why they could never go back to his place, why she could not even have his home number (“really, Adrienne, I only ever use my mobile, I can’t even remember the landline any more!”). She had found out exactly why early this morning.

He had dozed off after another bout of energetic all-night sex, and she’d curled up on his chest. She watched him sleep in the grey light creeping through a gap in the curtains. His left hand lay across his chest and she began to rub it affectionately. Slowly, she started to examine it more carefully and found her attention drawn to his third finger. Then she was fully awake and studying it closely.

There could be no mistake. He had been abroad for work last week, to Italy, and was well tanned. All apart from a pale band of flesh just above his knuckle, the mark of a recently – and temporarily – removed wedding ring.

Adrienne rolled away. Making the best possible use of the large bed, she curled up on the edge. As James slept, blissfully ignorant of the heartbreak he had just caused, a tear trickled down her cheek.

Two hours later, he woke to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. The inevitable confrontation led to his confession. His assertion that he had not lied to her because she had never asked him directly if he was married made her feel even more stupid and used. And so what if he was married – to Ruth, he told her, for five years. Why should that stop them having a little fun? Who exactly was getting hurt?

She told him to get out, to stay out, and made sure he was in no doubt just how she felt about him. As the door slammed behind him, Adrienne lay face down on the bed and sobbed.

Chapter Two

Adrienne set the box on the kitchen table. She could not explain why it had caught her eye, or why she had felt compelled to buy it. A hundred and seventy pounds was a lot of money, even if she was on a good salary and didn’t have the responsibility of a family to spend it for her. But the box would look good on her desk in the lounge.

She undid the catches and lifted the lid, running her fingers over the red leather lining of its base. The material was rough and spoke of years of use. She wondered who else might have touched it during its long life. How many letters had been written on its smooth surface? By a man or a woman? How many different homes had it graced before finding its way to hers?

She was brought out of her reverie by the doorbell. At first her heart leapt as she thought it was James, then she recalled how things had ended that morning.

Adrienne opened the door to find Rachel beaming at her from behind a pair of Ray-Bans. ‘I need coffee. Quickly! But great sex always has that effect on me!’

‘For God’s sake, come in. You’ll have the neighbours calling the vice squad!’ Once inside the privacy of the flat, the vivacious redhead flopped onto the sofa. She was still wearing her sunglasses. Clearly she had been up late. Adrienne went to the kitchen and clicked the kettle on, then returned to the living room.

‘So where’s James? Worn him out already …? Oh babe, what’s up?’ Adrienne had sunk into an armchair and burst into tears, much to her friend’s shock. Rachel slid onto her knees in front of her and took her in her arms, gently shushing her until she was calm enough to explain.

It all came out. Rachel listened patiently, then kissed her on the forehead, and went to the kitchen. She came back with the coffees, handing one to Adrienne. ‘I popped a brandy in it – thought you’d need it. So he was a rat – well, he had me fooled, and if I ever get my hands on him …’

‘Rachel, I just want to forget about him. If I get angry then he’s won, and he’s just not worth it. No, I want to hear what you got up to last night.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. I want his name, and I want to know just what you did with him.’

‘Er, actually, it’s them …’

‘Them?’ Adrienne clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘How many men did you let fuck you?’

‘Just two. And I didn’t let them. I insisted. I found them in the same bar we met – him. They weren’t keen to begin with. You know how competitive men get, and I think they were worried about not performing in front of their mate. But I wasn’t in the mood to be a prize catch of the day. I told them I’d go in the bedroom and they could come in one by one to be blown.’

‘What? They must have thought they’d died and gone to heaven.’

‘You wouldn’t guess it from their faces. Terrified. So I just went in and started to strip for action. Number One plucked up the courage to come in first, and his courage wasn’t the only thing that was up.’

‘So you sucked him?’

‘And how! Big and juicy, a good seven inches.’

‘And Number Two came in after him?’

‘He did. I made him lie on the bed and leant over him with my arse facing the door.’

‘Then?’

‘I was naked by then, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. I took my time and he was making plenty of noise. Then I heard the door open.’

‘Did you stop?’

‘As if I could! No, I just carried on. I heard Number One tear a packet open and roll one on. Then his hands grabbed my hips. Then …’

‘Oh my God!’

‘That’s what I would have said if my mouth hadn’t been full. Anyway,’ Rachel went on, ignoring Adrienne’s look of shock, ‘he was in me and began pumping away and Number Two was in my mouth, so pretty soon my head was going up and down in time with Number One slapping against my bum. I’d have loved it if they’d come off together, but there was no way Number Two was going to last much longer.’

‘Well, it was his first shot of the night, Rachel.’

‘And didn’t I know it! He filled my gob, and then some. Number One had a couple more minutes in him, so I just let him hump away while I licked Number Two clean.’

‘And what about you? I hope you didn’t get left out.’

‘Of a performance like that? I should think not! No, I came twice before Number One, first a little one which kind of ignited the other. It was fantastic.’

‘The rest of the night must have been a bit of a let-down. I bet they couldn’t look each other in the eye.’ Adrienne was only too aware how jealous men were of their sexual conquests. Richard, her last serious boyfriend, although unwilling to move in, had been possessive to the point of obsession. It had been one of the reasons for their break-up.

‘I was a bit worried about that, so I took the bull by the horns, so to speak.’

‘You did what?’

‘Well, I was in the buff, so I insisted they get their kit off too. And when they were starkers I grabbed a limp cock in each hand and pulled them into the living room.’

‘You let two naked guys out of your bedroom? Rachel, you’re slipping.’

‘Only to get back to the drinks cabinet. A couple more shots, a bit of gentle coaxing, and they wanted to play again. Right there on my hearthrug.’

‘Did you let them take turns this time?

‘No, babe. I made them pamper me.’

‘Pamper you?’

‘Uh-huh. I laid back and told them to choose ends. Number Two got the top half, while Number One went to work down below.’

‘Oh, you are good. How do you do it?’

‘I ask nicely. And if they don’t get it, I demand. But it was brilliant, lying there in front of a gas fire, one hunky guy fondling and licking my tits, another kissing the insides of my thighs, then my belly button, then my tummy, then … Oh yes! And as I watched, their hard-ons got stiffer and stiffer, and I could reach out and touch them. And when I did … Hey, where are you going?’

‘To the kitchen,’ called Adrienne from the hall, ‘to get a bucket of cold water to throw over you. Or I might put more brandy in my coffee.’

‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Rachel, following her. ‘And my mouth’s had a lot in it in the last 24 hours.’

‘Pervert!’ Adrienne teased as she switched on the kettle and reached for the bottle. ‘So, after fucking their brains out, did you get their phone numbers?’

‘Well … Not exactly.’

‘Addresses? Street names, even?’

‘Not really.’

‘Last names?’

‘Not as such.’

‘I don’t believe it. Don’t you take any interest in a man once you’ve shagged him?’

‘They do lose a bit of their attraction once they’ve gone soft. Besides, what sort of a relationship could grow out of a lust-fuelled Friday night threesome?’

‘They probably realised they’d never be able to boast about their prowess to each other again – or the size of their pricks.’ The kettle clicked, and Adrienne picked it up and began to refill the coffee jug.

‘They’d nothing to be ashamed of in either department, believe me.’

‘I wonder what James told his mates about me? That I’m an easy lay, I should think. Oh, why the hell should I care? I’ll never see him again.’

‘And if not, it’ll be a day too soon – hey, what’s that, babe?’ Rachel had turned to see the box on the kitchen table.

‘It’s a Victorian writing case,’ Adrienne explained. ‘I picked it up this morning. Do you like it?’

‘I don’t know. What do you do with it?’

‘It was like a laptop. You kept your pens, pencils, and paper in it, and you carried it around with this brass handle. And when you opened it,’ said Adrienne, clicking the catch and lifting the lid, ‘you had a perfect writing surface wherever you were.’

‘Cute,’ said Rachel, ‘but how much?’

‘A hundred and seventy,’ Adrienne told her.

‘What?’ Rachel looked astonished. ‘You were done! No way is it worth that much!’

‘It is to me,’ Adrienne muttered defensively. ‘I like it.’

‘So what are you going to do with it?’

‘I thought it would look good on my desk or beside the bed.’

‘Are you going to fill it with quills? That would be a nice feature.’ Rachel’s red-taloned nails ran across the inner surface of the lid.

‘That’s a good idea. I could see if the shop I bought it from has any …’ Adrienne was interrupted by a loud click, then a snap. ‘Rachel! What have you done?’

‘I’m sorry! I just touched something and the inside of the lid flew out.’

‘A hundred and seventy quid’s worth of antique and you … Hey, maybe you didn’t. What’s that?’ Adrienne peered into the cavity exposed by what was now shown to be a fake lining. She reached in with tentative fingers and carefully pulled out a pile of folded papers, tied together with a faded ribbon. Her touch was delicate, as the paper felt brittle. ‘What did you touch?’ she asked her friend.

‘That little bump there. I thought it was a knot in the wood. What have you got there?’

‘Something someone went to an awful lot of trouble to hide. Let’s see how.’ Adrienne placed the bundle to one side and lifted the inner section back into place. It was hinged at one end, but the joint completely disappeared when it was folded away, and the whole section closed with a soft click. She pressed the little knob of wood and it sprang open again.

‘Oh wow! A secret compartment!’ Rachel’s joy was almost childlike.

‘And some secret papers. Still think it wasn’t worth one hundred and seventy quid?’

‘Depends what they are. Let’s have a look.’

‘Not so fast. Let’s take these in the living room.’ Adrienne picked up the papers and led the way.

The women sat side by side on the sofa and placed the papers on the coffee table. ‘OK, here goes.’ She carefully undid the ribbon and unfolded the first sheet, fearful it would fall apart in her hands. She stared at it for a few seconds. ‘It’s a letter – at least I think it’s a letter. The handwriting’s dreadful. It’s going to take forever to read.’

‘I can make out the date,’ said Rachel. ‘April 13th 1886. Wow, this really is Victorian! What a find.’

‘I’ll say. These letters must be worth something.’

‘I wonder why they were locked up? I bet it’s got something really juicy in it. Like something about the Royal Family, or who Jack the Ripper really was.’

‘I doubt it. That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d put in a fake letter or diary. But if it is Victorian, that would explain the handwriting. No Biros then, just scratchy metal nibs you had to dip in ink every few words.’

‘How come you know all this?’ Rachel asked.

‘I did Victorian social history as an option in my degree. Looks like it’s finally going to be useful!’ She grinned to herself. ‘It was a fascinating time. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to live then. It’s only just beyond living memory but so much has changed. Think about it, Rachel – no TV, no National Grid to heat and light your home, no fridge-freezer to keep your food fresh for months. You and I would have been married off by our families just after we hit adolescence. The only work we’d do would be raising a family and maybe a little seamstressing.’

‘A bit of what?

‘Sewing.’

‘Ugh! I’ve never been any good at that. I think I’ll stick to looking after the kids if that was the only other choice.’

‘With eight or nine, you wouldn’t have had much choice.’

‘What? Look, maybe I want to settle down and have a couple later, when I find the right bloke, but …’

‘That’s another thing. No trying before you buy. The Victorians were very prim about marriage. After last night’s performances you and I would be branded fallen women. Of course, you fell much further and harder than me.’

‘Cheeky tart! Just ’cos you’re jealous. Anyway, if the women were domestic slaves or baby machines we can assume the letters were written by a man. Who else would have anything to write about or the time to do it?’

‘Maybe. Let’s see what the name at the end of the letter is.’ Adrienne turned the three pages over and searched for the signature. ‘Well, well,’ she exclaimed after a few seconds’ careful examination, ‘I’m afraid your theory’s wrong, if “from your dearest friend and cousin, Catherine” is anything to go by.’

‘Maybe she was one of the lucky ones,’ Rachel mused. ‘A woman who bucked the trend and did her own thing. A woman just like us.’

‘No, she was probably just very rich,’ said Adrienne. ‘But why speculate when the answers are all here? Let’s read.’

She turned the pages back over and the two women began to study the document in earnest. An hour later, they had finished, and were staring speechlessly at each other.