The Boleyn Effect (The Boorman Ending) (16 page)

He handed me a small black
box and I reluctantly took it from him. Opening, I can't help my
gasp and his face lights up. It was on a white gold chain, my two
initials LB moulded together encrusted with tiny diamonds and then
dangling below, a small enamelled white rose.

'I had it made especially.
It's one of a kind like you.'

'Like the white rose,' I
whispered.

'Exactly.'

I threw myself at him and
kissed him hard.

'I love it.'

'Now I hope you'll see
that I'm serious about you.'

I hid my face in his chest
with a small knowing smile. He's getting impatient. He hopes that
this beautiful piece will be the key to getting inside my pants
permanently. But after another week he stopped calling and
responding to my texts. Cut off once more. I just can't get my head
around it. Why give me something so beautiful in order to ignore
me.

He really knows how to
play this game well. I just have to be better, but something
strange is happening inside me and I don't like it. Like some
creature is stirring inside that I've managed to subdue for a lot
of years.

Now I am in his wife's
office absently fingering that same pendant while she writes me a
cheque. The photo prints are in an envelope for her to check over
and keep. The pictures I've taken to bring spice into a marriage I
want to destroy. Leaving her office with more money in the account
doesn't fill me with satisfaction, instead I just feel
empty.

Since our argument, I've
not spoken to George either. I've avoided his calls and texts, but
I can't help but notice the change in Clair. She and he are
definitely fucking and it just pisses me off further. I'm losing my
best friend and Harry seems to be losing interest. My winning
streak could be over or maybe I never truly had it in the first
place.

Later that evening, having
packed a weekend bag, I check the studio and any work emails. I
want to make sure it all ticks over while I am away. I know Clair
will have it covered, but the mood I am in, I don't really trust
her not to get too preoccupied with her new playmate. Once I’tm out
of the way, maybe they'd miss me and realise what I am to them.
Well I hope anyway.

A banging on the studio's
front door startles me. I freeze for a moment nervously. Who would
be here at that time of night? Guessing it's George, I prepare to
deflect any shit he'll readily aim at me. Going to the door, I
unlock it and fall back against the wall with shock. Harry storms
in, leaving me to do nothing, but lock the door and
follow.

His face is almost white
with restrained anger as he paces the floor. I move nervously
further into the room. This isn't good. I've never seen him this
angry and I am not sure my charm is that good.

'You fucking bitch. You
have played me. What was it? Get cosy with the Miss's and then take
me for a ride. I thought you were better than that.'

My temper flares at his
accusations. How dare he? But I have to try and remain
calm.

'I don't appreciate being
called a bitch or being accused of something I haven't done,' I say
evenly.

He turns towards me and I
see fire in his eyes. I need to stand my ground, because if this is
over I need to hold onto some dignity.

'The pictures... the
anniversary gift. I bet you had a good laugh at her and me,' he
throws.

'Well if I'd a told you it
would have kinda ruined the surprise and technically, she was my
customer before you and I. It may have escaped your notice, but I
have a business to try and make a living from.'

My temper is now so high
that I'm beginning to shake. I am losing control and I hate it.
He's making me react to him. He causes me lose all my self-control
and I think that lies the problem. He pushes me to the edge and I’m
always scrambling to some self-control.

'And for your information,
taking those pictures was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
Taking pictures of your wife looking sexy so she can seduce you.
Yeah, I had a right laugh. You know what,' I continue to shout, all
the past days frustration rising to the surface. 'How dare you come
here and have a go at me. You were the one to hit on me first. You
came here and tried to finger fuck me after buying me one drink.
You knew what you were doing and wanted it to happen just as much
as I did. You promised me that you wouldn't hurt me, but as soon as
I start to feel something you stop fucking talking. You buy me
this,' I point to my pendant, 'and say that I'm special and then
you leave me. No texts or fuck all. So tell me Harry who's playing
games, because I get the feeling you're the one fucking with
people's head.'

'I.. Leigh.'

'You know what, get out.'
I push him hard in the chest and shove him backwards. 'Get the fuck
out of my studio and take this with you.' I scream ripping the
chain from my neck.

I pound his chest hard and
shove him towards the door. I've never felt such anger before and
in that moment I just want out. I am hurting, really hurting and
that makes me even angrier. I push against him, but he fights
against me. Then, grabbing my hands he grips my wrists
tight.

'For fuck’s sake Leigh,'
he hisses.

Forcing his mouth against
mine, I try to wriggle free, but he holds me firm backing me into
Clair's desk. Wincing at the pain, anger turns into passion as I
free my hands and tear at his jacket and shirt. He wrenches my
t-shirt over my head and then grabbing my waist lifts me on to my
desk. Next, off come my jeans and pants, which are yanked down my
legs with such force I nearly fall off the desk.

Hot and breathless, his
mouth finds my breasts causing me to moan and arch my back. His
tongue works my nipples so much that I am pulsating to the point of
coming there and then. Using my own trick, he grinds himself
against my centre rhythmically and the friction of denim and naked
flesh cause me to orgasm quick and loud, but still he carries on.
He's not letting me go. I've pissed him off and now he wants to
exert his power, but I don't want him to have it.

Summoning all the strength
I need to recover, I grab his jeans and open them, yanking him
free. He winces as I take no care in how I pull him out. If he
wants to play hard then I will damn well play harder. Now it's his
turn to moan as he pulsates in my hand. He's so thick and rock hard
already as I thumb the smoothness of its bulbous head. He tries to
pull my hand away, but I round him off.

'Don't fight me,' he
hisses.

'I will always fight you,'
I moan back.

I push and tug at him hard
to the point I hear him hiss and in retaliation he nips me. Finally
he manages to pull my hand away from him and drags me to the edge
of the desk so I am barely upon it.

'I won't stop, even if you
say so,' he breathes.

And before I can either
protest or consent, he's inside me. Filling my insides and
consuming me with a heated mouth. Using one hand to anchor and the
other to hold onto him, I meet each thrust with equal vigour.
Matching him equally. Because that's what we are equals.

‘
You make me
so angry,' he hisses through gritted teeth. 'You make me feel...you
make me need you. Why do you make me need you?'

Every word matches his
pounding and it's driving me on. I am so damn close and this is
probably the hottest screw I've ever engaged in with anyone. I can
feel myself tightening around his thick hardness and I know damn
well that he's going to make me come so fucking hard. This is so
much better than I imagined when I made myself orgasm thinking
about him.

'Harry...Harder! You need
to do me harder,' I start to scream.

'Jesus, Leigh, you are so
fucking tight and wet,' he groans.

My muscles tense at his
words and I tighten my legs around his waist squeezing him deeper
inside me. He comes just before I do and fills me with his hotness,
but I manage to push with one more thrust to gain my own
satisfaction again while scream to the Lord God for
mercy.

A few hours later we are
still laid on my floor naked after another bout of sex. This time
it was much more prolonged and thorough. He’s by no means a selfish
lover and he certainly knows how to use what god gave
him.

I'm used to much younger
men, with toned bodies, but with Harry there are some flaws, that I
don't mind. His chest is still firm with a smattering of fair hair
that slowly leads south over a small paunch of a belly, which I am
currently running my fingers over lazily as we lay
together.

He apologized for being
rushed and careless the first time, but I'd assured him that I am
on the pill. Still the second time, he'd worn protection. He wasn't
taking any chances in this, but the last thing I want is to
complicate this game with some foolish accident. I am not some
stupid school girl. There are much easier and less life changing
ways to snare a man.

'I'm going away,' I say
propping myself on his chest.

'When? Where?' he
asks.

'Tomorrow, first thing.
I'm visiting my folks. I need to get away and get my head
together,' I say.

Harry strokes a stray hair
away from my face and tucks it behind my ear. There is a look of
concern there.

'Because of me?' he
asks.

There it is, the man's ego
and all I have to do is massage it further then I have already. I
place my head on his chest coquettishly so he believes I'm upset
and hiding my eyes.

'What we've just done's
made it difficult. I know you can't give me what I want and I
accept that. But if this is the last time that I see you, then I
need to go away and prepare myself for that.'

A fake sniff and the
wiping of fake tears. I'm almost convincing myself. He rolls me
onto my back and I turn my eyes away.

'Look at me,' he
insists.

Still I look away causing
him to nudge my face to his. There's a biting of my lip to add to
the effect of innocence and girly. Make him feel that he
intimidates me.

'Why would you think that
this is the last time we'd see each other?'

'Because you only do one
night stands. No mistresses remember,' I choke.

'You want to be my
mistress?'

'Yes...no...I don't know.
Harry, I just want to be with you. If that's the only way, then I
suppose I have to accept that.'

He looks down at me and I
can feel his heart pounding against mine. I wait for his response
anxiously. After all he's now had me. The mystery and thrill of the
chase more or less gone. It would be so easy for him to just get
dressed and move on, but I can see in the shadows of the studio
he's thinking. Mulling over in his head whether he can let me go
and I hope it will swing my way.

'I don't want you to be my
mistress,' he finally answers.

My heart sinks, I haven't
been enough. I start to move from beneath him, but he holds me
still.

'Let me finish. I don't
want you to be my mistress, because you deserve more than that. I
was telling the truth about Kat and I's marriage. We are barely
holding on and I suppose I needed something big to make that jump.
You have totally thrown me off course. Like a bloody whirlwind
that's shaken me up. Jesus Christ Leigh, that's why I never
contacted you. After those few weeks, my feelings were so strong
that it frightened me and it made me wonder what I'd end up feeling
if we were fully together.

'Then I saw those pictures
of Kat and I just lost it. I was so angry. I thought you'd played
me, but I was also furious that you'd had to do it. You left me
confused. I want you so much, it's like I can't breathe without
you. I know you may not believe me, but I haven't been able to have
sex with my wife since being with you. That's never happened to me
before. Never, even with the others. Now, we've...I don't want
anyone else to have you. I want you to be only mine and I want to
be only yours.

'I think you should go to
your parents and get your head together. Think about whether you
really want me and when you get back we'll go from
there.'

'What are you saying?' I
ask.

'I'll look into divorce
proceedings. I will leave my wife for you, Leigh-Anne Boorman, if
you'll have me.'

CHAPTER
TWENTY TWO

Walking through my
parent's front door fills me with mixed feelings. Home comings
always do. I love my family to bits, but sometimes feel like I take
a giant step backwards when I return. My mum fusses over apparent
weight loss while my dad rolls his eyes at her fussing. She asks
about my drive down and why George is not with me; my mum is one of
those that has fallen victim to his charms. I lie and tell her he's
busy at university. She doesn't need to know that we've fallen out
and why. She'd probably defend him anyway. It doesn't take a genius
to work out that my parents would not approve of what I am
doing.

The home I grew up in is
nothing like George's. I was brought up in a terraced house with
two living rooms, a small kitchen and three bedrooms. It's neat and
tastefully decorated. My mum is a very house-proud woman, who works
part-time in the local school where me and my brother went. My dad
works as a mechanic in the local garage and earns enough to keep us
all comfortable.