SEVEN DAYS (22 page)

Judy sighed.

“I don't think he deserves to be on a pedestal,” Judy said. “The day the course started he was so hung over he could hardly walk. I know that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, but still...”

“He doesn't drink,” Andre said, shocked that she should think that of him. “He wasn't drunk; he was tired.”

Judy raised an eyebrow.

“The last people to rent the mansion were  animals. The rooms, the kitchen, the studio was a mess. He transformed it, all by himself. I was at the bar so I couldn't help. He cleaned everything. He fixed broken chairs. He made the beds. He even put flowers in all of the rooms. If you had seen it two days before you arrived...”

“He cleaned that whole place in two days?”

“He did everything but clean the kitchen, which was why we went for a meal out the first night. He cleaned it while everyone slept.”

Judy imagined him running around doing all that by himself. The place was huge. She wondered how much cleaning had needed doing. “Why didn't he hire a cleaner?”

“No money,” Andre said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “He doesn't seem to be the type to be good with money.”

“A lot of the original art supplies were stolen or destroyed. He had to replenish the stocks. Who pays for that? He does. He needs to run this week just to get out of debt. He'd earn more money working in the bar with me, but he says he's not a barman, he's an artist.”

“Why are we still talking about him?” Judy said, frustrated.

“You're right, we could talk about you,” Andre said.

“Maybe we've talked enough,” she said.

She stroked his arm, feeling electricity flying between her fingers and the hair of his forearm. She closed her eyes and focussed on her bodily sensations. A tingling sprung up all over her skin, triggered by Andre's touch, but its source was deep inside her. It was as if he had lit a sparkler in her belly.

Mark—that paragon of humility and apparent kindness that had nonetheless offered them all some unknown narcotic substance that would probably poison them all—had said that the effects would only last for a couple of hours, but then she had drunk more than he would have liked. And maybe its combination with her drinking the night before had affected the way it worked.

She was afraid that she would have another episode like the one in the bar, that she would wake up not knowing where she was or how she had got there. She was afraid that this was going to be one of the best moments of her life and she was about to miss it. She wanted to forget Mark and what he was doing with Maggie, she wanted to forget her prim and proper persona, she wanted to forget everything but this exact moment; no past; no future.

She stroked Andre’s handsome face. He must have shaved closely before the party, because his skin was incredibly smooth. He smelled good. It was cologne that an older man might wear and it was charming on him. It was his attempt at sophistication, when really all he wanted was to be inside her.

As she thought it, he shifted forward on the tree stump and kissed her gently on the mouth. She kissed him back, hungrily, adrenaline rushing through her.

Not long later, those beautiful lips of his were pressed against hers, forcing her back, his tongue seeking hers. The force of his ardour shocked her. She knew that he wanted her, but she felt like a rock assailed by waves.

His hand was on her left breast, massaging her through her long-sleeved shirt and she'd have told him to slow down if it didn't feel so wonderful. Her body went limp at his touch and he slipped an arm around her back to steady her, his firm hand squeezing her waist and making her feel tiny, doll-like, while his tongue worked voraciously at hers, as if it was a battle that he was determined to win.

She tried to surface for breath, but he kept kissing her, returning her passion threefold. He moaned as he kissed her and squeezed her so hard that it was painful. His desire made her feel sexier than any pair of boots or any dress or any amount of dancing on balconies.

As his lust for her became obvious, so did hers. She was wet for him and wanted him to lay her on the grass, but it would be more complicated than that. Why hadn't she worn something a little easier to remove?

He responded to her thoughts by shoving her T-shirt up towards her neck and massaging her breast again, his hand on the material of her bra now. A moment later, he was digging his fingers into the lace and tugging, impatient and almost brutal.

“Whoa, boy,” she said, breaking away from him.

She pulled her T-shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. Then she reached behind her. Slowly, gracefully, she unclipped her bra.

He was on her before her bra hit the ground. He took each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking one while toying with the other.

He was a similar lover to Peter, in that he was so focused on her body that it seemed as if he believed that he would have one chance only to consume her and he wanted to use her up. Hands down, he had the better physique though. She could feel his rock hard abs and solid chest through his shirt.

Her breath left her in shudders and he kept on mouthing her, her pleasure literally in his hands, her eyes on the glittery lights on the mountain that seemed to shine just for her.

She thought that he'd want to move on quickly, but he kept licking her, sometimes gently, sometimes sucking hard.

She was lost to his ministrations.

A minute or two later, unable to bear this pleasure any longer, she kissed him on the mouth and undid the buttons of his shirt. She slid her hands over him and he felt just as good as she had hoped. Better.

His chest was smooth, which she found unusual, but he was no less manly for that. Not at all.

As her fingers explored his body, he unfastened the button of her trousers. He had evidently used up what patience he had, because he was rushing again, tugging and tearing the fabric. His kissing faltered and then he pried her trouser button from the hole. He immediately yanked her zip down, then slipped his fingers under the waistband of her trousers, his fingertips coursing over her light covering of pubic hair, seeking her wetness.

As much as she had enjoyed her play with Lisa, she was looking forward to having a man touch her again and quivered in anticipation of his fingers.

First, however, it was his turn.

“We have time,” she told him. “There’s no rush.”

 She removed his shirt and threw it to the ground before applying herself to kissing his chest. She sucked on his nipples and he held her with one hand on the back of her neck, directing her mouth, preventing her from moving away. She had no intention of stopping so soon. She peppered his body with kisses, gradually lowering her lips to his abs, teasing his navel with her tongue.

He pushed his fingers through her hair and held her close to him. She could feel the strength in his hands. She could feel the strength of his desire for her. They were both trembling, hearts pounding.

Finally, he lifted her and placed her on the ground, doing so as easily as if she weighed nothing at all. He gazed down at her and she reached up for him, finding discomfort in his scrutiny. She didn’t really want him to see her. She just wanted to feel his body on hers.

“You read my mind,” she whispered as he lay on top of her.

She felt the bulge of his cock against her and gasped. It was her turn to be impatient and his turn to lay a hand on her naked chest and say:

“Shhh. Don’t rush.”

She laughed.

“You tease,” she said.

“You started it.”

He kissed her neck and she lost all semblance of composure. She moaned and allowed her eyes to close. Her body relaxed as if someone had cut her strings and she was only a shape on the ground, capable of nothing but experiencing bliss.

The only thing that made the sensation more powerful was imagining that these kisses and caresses were being administered by the man she had wanted from the beginning. She imagined his hair stroking her neck, her breasts, her stomach. She imagined his dark eyes bearing down on her, pinning her to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Andre murmured.

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

His weight on top of her was delicious. He prevented himself from crushing her by holding himself up, his large biceps bulging, ripe and ready for action. And his arms weren’t the only things that were bulging.

This was like a holiday romance, except it wasn’t quite a holiday and this wasn’t a romance.

“Are you sure you are okay?” Andre whispered into her ear.

“Yes,” Judy said. “Yes.” But she was trembling and a moment later she was shaking her head. “No,” she admitted and sighed a huge sigh that brought her back to reality. Her back was aching. She was shivering. She had dirt in her hair.

Andre sat up.

“What is it?” he said. His face was disappointed, but alarmed and she wondered what he had seen in her face that made him so concerned.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Judy said, breathing heavily and sniffling.

“Wrong time? Wrong place?”

Wrong guy,
she thought.

“Something like that,” she told him.

She glanced down at his crotch and, considering the way in which he was poised above her, she wondered if she hadn’t been too hasty, but it was Andre who had pulled away first and she admitted that part of her was relieved that he had done so.

Half-naked beneath the moonlit sky, she let another deep breath fly and gazed up at the stars. Andre lay beside her.

“I’m sorry,” Judy said.

“Me too,” said Andre.

“I do fancy you,” she assured him.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “But there’s someone else. I know. It’s clear. I don’t want to … step on his feet ...”

They were kissing again. His mouth was just so delicious. It took all of her will to put her hand on his shoulder and push him gently away.

“He’s a lucky man,” Andre said.

“He doesn’t even exist,” Judy said. “I have an idea of him, but he’s not really like that. No-one could be that perfect. He’s like a dream. The more I think of him, the more he slips away. And yet, I can’t be with anyone else. Even though you’re drop dead gorgeous, I can’t go through with it.”

As they dressed, Andre said:

“I’m sorry if I rushed you. I couldn’t help myself. There’s something special about you. You excite me.”

“No,” Judy said as she rolled her T-shirt down over her breasts. “I'm single. I'm available. That’s all that’s special about me. If you could have been here with Maggie, you would have been, but she’s with Mark.”

“No,” Andre said, unable to think of any other words of protest for a while. “No. I don’t think this.”

“I don't mind,” Judy said. “Be honest about it.”

Mark. He was the problem again. Even when she had been kissing Andre, she had been seeing Mark in her head, no matter that he was with someone else. She was unable to take her revenge on him. Truth be told, the idea of him with Maggie turned her off sex completely, even for the purposes of self-soothing or evening the score.

 “No hard feelings,” Andre said.

Judy glanced at his bulging crotch and burst out laughing. It was better than bursting into tears.

“Will you walk me back?”

“Of course.”