2 comments/ 50941 views/ 4 favorites Pas De Deux By: smj54ap Craig cleared the cocktail glasses from the coffee table as I stacked the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. All in all it was a successful dinner party but with an added twist. "Courtney seemed to be...oh...very interested in you," my husband commented in an off hand manner. At first, I thought his comment was a bit strange but in truth it was accurate as the faint odor of Courtney still resided on my lips. "Maybe you're reading too much into it hon," I said trying to deflect any intimation that Courtney wanted more than just friendship from me. "Listen Mia, I know she's your friend but there's something in her eyes that..." he said with his voice trailing off. As I readied myself for bed, I saw Craig gazing at me with a curious look in the mirror. Normally, Saturday evenings ended with a rousing sex romp but tonight was the continuation of a long dry spell for my husband. When I pulled back the covers and got into bed I turned my back to him. Instantly his muscular arms enveloped me and I felt his boner against my ass. "Not tonight hon, I'm really tired," I lied and moved away from him. Truthfully, I loved Craig but my recent activities had me seriously questioning my sexuality. "Humph!" Craig sighed disgustedly. "Tomorrow morning, ok babe?" I said trying to appease him when I knew damn well that he liked to sleep late on Sunday's. For the next hour, I tossed and turned as thoughts of Courtney dominated my mind. With mixed feelings, I recalled my first chance meeting with her mother, Elise, over two years ago. It was the typical autumn evening in New York, cool and crisp with a hint of winter in the air. I was hopelessly lost driving around the Greenwich Village area looking for a new restaurant that was all the rage with twenty something New Yorker's. "Make a right on Bleeker," Cleo whined impatiently. The tires on the Mercedes squealed loudly when I executed the turn. I was a firm believer that owning an automobile in Manhattan was sheer folly. "We should have taken a taxi. Why do you always insist on me driving?" I asked rather nastily. "My dahling Mia, you are the lucky owner of a Mercedes 450 SEL that I am guessing you pay over twelve hundred a month to garage. It only makes sense to take it out and let the poor thing stretch its legs," she said with wit. We were several blocks down Bleeker Street when I noticed a brightly lit building to my right. "I'm going in and ask for directions," I said with determination. I left the vehicle double parked and ran into a small art gallery. Craig had showed me how the GPS system on the car operated but under stress, I was drawing a blank. "Excuse me, but do you know if O'Hara's Grill is nearby?" I asked with pleading in my voice. A very pretty woman with lovely features and golden hair gazed at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm not sure but I believe that it's thirty blocks or better in the opposite direction," she said with élan. Quickly I glanced at my wrist watch, we were already twenty minutes late for our reservation. I thanked the vivacious woman and returned to the car with a line of honking traffic behind it. "Well? Where is it?" Cleo asked. "Practically on the other side of town," I stated with vehemence looking for a parking space. Luckily, one was less than a block away and I edged the Mercedes into the spot. "Why are you parking here?" Cleo mouthed with excitement. "Because, we're not only late for our reservation but they probably gave it to another party by now and I'm starving. I saw some appetizers and wine on a sideboard at the gallery. We can look at the paintings and discreetly stuff ourselves," I said adamantly. "Oh ok!" Cleo said resignedly. In spite of her socialite status and wealth, Cleo was a genuinely nice person. Inside the gallery, we were greeted by the same woman who gave me the directions. Cleo made a bee line for the food and I followed behind. With a glass of wine in my hand, I studied the paintings on the gallery wall. They were very good perhaps excellent examples from a talented artist. "The detail is exquisite," I marveled out loud as I studied the painting of a street scene. "Thank You," a voice at my elbow uttered. "Oh, excuse me but I thought you were my friend Cleo," I stated shyly. "I'm Elise, the artist in question and you are?" she asked with aplomb. "Mia," I said timidly gazing into the deep blue eyes of the lovely artist. "Why did you decide to come back and take in the art exhibit?" Elise asked. Without hesitation, I explained the predicament with our reservation and overwhelming hunger. "The gallery closes in a half hour and I know of a small but elegant bistro a few blocks away. I would consider it an honor if you and your friend joined me," she said in a breathy voice. I accepted but Cleo declined and hailed a taxi. At the Bistro, the maitre d' and staff acknowledged Elise when she entered. In spite of a lobby area filled with waiting diners, we were seated immediately. Elise spoke about her work as an artist as we supped on the most delicious food. "This exhibition has been my poorest showing so far," she stated wistfully. "I thought the paintings were wonderful!" I stated with honesty. "The critics gave me scathing reviews this time around and in a way deservedly so," she uttered mysteriously. "Why?" I asked naïvely. "I usually paint people as my subjects but my most experienced model, Courtney, flatly refused to pose for me. I had an entire series of nudes planned and she was the ideal subject but..." she sighed. As I watched Elise, I guessed her age to be about forty, in spite of her youthful appearance. "Was there nothing you could do or say to convince her?" I asked. "Oh, I suppose I could have but Courtney's my daughter and I guess she was feeling put upon," she stated with some sadness. "Your daughter's a model?" I asked somewhat incredulously. "Oh my yes, since she was twelve," she said with pride. I stared dumbly at her. Despite my marriage to Craig which afforded me a high social status thanks to his wealth, I still felt like the middle class girl from suburban Pittsburgh. Elise insisted on paying the bill and walked with me to the car. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?" I asked. "No need. My studio is next to the gallery," As I bade her goodnight, Elise hesitated for a moment. "This may sound bold but have you ever considered posing?" Elise's question caught me off guard. "Er...not really," I answered in an unsteady voice. "Here's my card. Call me if you think it's something that might interest you," she stated with elegance. As I drove home, the thought of shedding my clothes and having Elise paint me in the nude was oddly appealing. When I married Craig, my life became a whirlwind of social events, most of which I despised. My days were spent hanging out with a close circle of vacuous girlfriends in an endless circuit of shopping and lunches. It was incredibly dull and self indulgent behavior that I had little use for. I longed to do something fulfilling but Craig strongly objected to my seeking employment. My teaching certificate was a source of pride for me but was of little importance to him. As a teenager, I had done some swimsuit modeling for a local agency in Pittsburgh. The work provided me with enough money to pay for my college education and that's where I met Craig. While we were dating, Craig never revealed his Park Avenue roots. His grandfather started an investment firm that had grown into a highly successful multi national company. Craig's seven figure income provided us with the type of lifestyle that a majority of the population only dreamt about; A beautiful 3 bedroom co-op on Central Park West with magnificent views of the city, credit cards with no spending limits and frequent vacations to exotic locales. At first, the luxurious surroundings were seductively appealing but boredom quickly followed and within six months of our wedding, I felt like I was living in a mink lined prison. During the summers, we spent our weekends at a beachfront cottage in the Hamptons. It was a welcome relief from the choking city atmosphere but Craig was committed to socializing and the strain of hosting barbecues and dinner parties left zero time for intimacy. After two years of marriage, it was only my love for Craig that kept me from asking for a separation. Tuesday morning Cleo called to invite me to a sneak preview of Bloomingdales spring fashions. As I entered the date in my palm pilot, I remembered Elise's invitation. Quickly, I striped to my thong panties and harshly appraised my reflection in the mirror. "Not bad for an old broad of twenty seven," I muttered to myself. My fanatical devotion to exercise had hardened my body into a sleek appearance. My breasts were handful size but very firm with bullet style nipples. Taut muscle lay just below the surface of the skin and my complexion retained its youthful glow. I thought my butt was a bit small but at least it was hard from countless hours on the stair climber. However, in the back of my mind a suspicion about Elise's motive for asking me to pose kept intruding in my thoughts. "Is she a lesbian?" I asked myself. From my middle teens, I had persons of both sexes desire me. Although, I experimented to the fullest during my bi curious phase in college, I was a committed heterosexual. However, most of the women that I now socialized with were bi sexual, including Cleo. In spite of her outwardly vapid demeanor, Cleo was smart, and totally aware of her inner self. One afternoon at a small café in Tribeca, she propositioned me. "You know dahling, I have a thing for blondes, she said in a husky voice. "Oh, like Brad Pitt?" I naïvely asked. Cleo regarded me with amusement but also disdain. "Do I have to spell it out, hmm?" she inquired slyly. When I realized the intent of her question, my eyes widened in disbelief. "Dahling, you are quite the country bumpkin from Pittsburgh," she stated haughtily with a smoldering look in her eyes. Although, I declined her invitation, Cleo took me under her wing and educated me on the ways of New York society. Elise was pleased to hear that I was considering her invitation to pose. The following week I was sitting in her studio, naked under a robe and nervous as hell. She chatted informally with me and we sipped white wine in elegant crystal stems. Elise took a long time setting up the proper lighting and angles for the effect she wanted to achieve. Before she painted a subject, she took a series of photographs to establish what poses looked best. Once she started snapping shots, something inside me took over and I gave it my all. The session progressed slowly with the robe off my shoulders to slightly open and eventually off altogether. At one point, Elise asked her assistant to apply some makeup to my tits. When Tessa brushed some flesh toned powder on my nipples they hardened into jutting cylinders. "Perfect, thrust your chest out!" Elise commanded. After the session, Elise invited me to view the negatives with her. She seemed to be very pleased with the results and wanted to paint me in the nude. "I think this pose would work the best" she declared and the photo of me with my boobs sticking straight out was her obvious favorite. We agreed on twice a week afternoon sittings and Elise insisted that I let my pubic hair grow because it imparted greater authenticity to the painting. However I was still reluctant about posing and voiced my feelings. If Craig found out, it could very well end our marriage. "I can assure you that I am very discrete. I rarely disclose the names of my models unless they authorize me to do so," she said in her elegant way. A look of skepticism pervaded my countenance. "Mia, I more than understand why you are hesitant and clearly it is YOUR decision but you have a beautiful body that deserves to be painted," she stated gracefully and looked straight into my eyes. "Ok, I'll see you next month," I said with trepidation and left the studio. I agonized about my decision until the day I was scheduled to pose but the exhibitionist part of my psyche refused to be denied. There was something strangely erotic about showing my nude body to Elise, who was essentially a stranger. My crotch exhibited a downy coat that delighted Craig who ate me with a zealous hunger. With my back propped against the headboard and legs askew, I loved watching him devour me. When I nervously entered Elise's studio a ravishingly pretty young woman with raven colored hair greeted me. "You must be Mia," she stated in a musical sounding but smoky voice. "Hello, I...ah..." I stuttered foolishly. "Oh, sorry but I'm Courtney, Elise's daughter?" She stated in a husky tone. Courtney was visually one of the prettiest women that I ever met. A real stunner! For the entire posing session, she assisted Elise and her presence had my body quivering with excitement. When a tiny trickle of fluid from my creaming pussy worked its way down my inner thigh, I asked for a bathroom break. Gingerly, I toweled my face and took a few deep breaths to try and recover. I must have been in the bathroom a long time because a sudden rap on the door startled me. "Hey Mia, you ok in there?" I heard Courtney's muffled voice ask me. I answered with some garbled reply, took another deep breath and returned to the studio. "You look a little flushed Mia, everything all right?" Elise questioned with care in her voice. "Yeah," I answered regaining my composure. For the remainder of the session, I fought to maintain my self control. By posing nude in front of two very sexy women, especially Courtney, my libido was doing cartwheels. As soon as I returned home, I dashed to the shower and masturbated with a fury that surprised me. Craig was one lucky husband that night because I practically raped him when he came home from a business dinner. Courtney was absent from my next posing appointment and with Tessa assisting Elise, I maintained more control of myself. During a break period, I was sitting in the small lounge off the studio when I noticed two portfolios of photographs. Inside were dazzling photos of Courtney in all phases of dress and undress. She looked stunning, especially the nudes. To say that she displayed a magnificent body was an understatement as her proportions were about as perfect as any human being had the right to possess. Courtney was natural in front of the camera; it caressed her, favored her and brought out a quality inside of her that entranced me. The way she smiled, frowned or gazed with a faraway look at some distant point past the periphery of the frame. As I leafed through the pages, I realized my pussy was aflame with need. I was totally absorbed with the portfolio and never heard Elise enter the room. "She's a beautiful subject, don't you think?" Elise asked with pride in her voice. "Oh my yes!" I gushed a little too obviously. "Unfortunately, she won't let me publish them. I've been offered six figures by several prestigious publishers but..." she sighed with resignation. When I gazed at Elise with a puzzled look, she sighed again and sat next to me. "My dear, Courtney is a wonderful daughter but she's also petulant, egotistical and well...more self assured than most nineteen year olds," she stated with admiration and sadness. Elise was regarding me with a look of concern. "I've seen both men and women fall under her spell. And, believe me, she's very in tune to the fact," Elise muttered wistfully. With my eyes glued to the photos, I was instantly aware that I could easily fall victim to the sensuous dark haired goddess. For the rest of my posing session, I couldn't shake the images of Courtney from my head. On many occasions, I pleasured myself with her image dominating my thoughts. Luckily, Courtney was attending classes at NYU and I saw her only occasionally when I was posing. However, by early June her classes ended and she was more of a permanent fixture around the studio. Elise unveiled my painting one very warm day in July. She had captured my pose perfectly with my nipples jutting proudly and a slight, enigmatic smile on my face. "I'm very pleased with the results," Elise stated warmly. I honestly thought that I never looked better. The painting was displayed in the adjoining gallery and sold for a hefty price tag in under a week. Bolstered by the sale, Elise called one afternoon with a bold idea for a limited series of new paintings. "My dear would you consider posing with Courtney in a kind of pas de deux?" she asked enthusiastically. I was stunned and remained silent until Elise spoke again. "Please keep in mind that they would be very tasteful but sexy," she said with assurance in her voice. The very idea of physical contact with Courtney made my insides roil with desire but also fear. It would force me to confront some very real and conflicting emotions that existed inside of me. I reluctantly agreed. "I hope Courtney doesn't give you a hard time," I said with trepidation "I doubt that, it was her idea," Elise declared and every nerve ending in my body erupted. Because of Elise's busy schedule the photo shoot was delayed for a few months. During that time, I hired a personal trainer and honed my body into a super fit and lean appearance. But, the time delay did little to suppress my desire for Courtney. At the photo session, I tried to project an aloof air as a means of self control. I was posed buck naked with Courtney the object of some very intense masturbatory fantasies next to me. Elise hovered over us, bending and twisting us into various configurations as Tessa snapped multiple exposures. I avoided looking at Courtney as much as possible and my stiff gestures from the electric feel of her skin translated to the camera. When we viewed the proofs, I had a disinterested and stilted appearance. Elise was disappointed with the results but Courtney suggested a posing session without the camera, Tessa and Elise present. After a much needed break, we disrobed and took our positions on the stark white stage. "Relax Mia, I don't have 'cooties' you know," she said with carefree confidence as she knelt on her haunches facing me. But, it was impossible. I was incredibly turned on by Courtney and my creaming pussy pulsated with need. She was sure to notice the odor as it drifted in the air around us. Courtney's arms were extended for an embrace and as I held her woodenly, her face showed its displeasure. But, she saw right through my little ploy. "Mia, do you have the hots for me?" she asked boldly and her gaze held me in a trance like state. Meekly, I answered with a barely audible 'yes' and lowered my eyes. Courtney's silence was a little unnerving but necessary as I drank in the beauty of her tan flawless skin and marvelously sculpted torso. My body ached with desire for the dark vixen and as I tenderly rested my head on her shoulder, she lightly ran her fingers over my hair. "Ooh Courtney," I moaned. Our breasts were lightly touching and my nipples hardened with excitement. My hands with a will of their own caressed her round and very firm tits. "I knew you wanted me the first day I met you," she sighed as I palmed her sexy nipples. I knelt in front of Courtney and suckled her protruding buds with intensity. My lips tugged contentedly on the long cylindrical protuberances and she moaned her satisfaction. Courtney leaned back on her arms, legs wide and regarded me with a look of elation. Pas de Deux This is a story of fiction. Any similarity to persons alive or dead and to institutions is coincidental. My thanks to Erik Thread for his invaluable advice. * CHAPTER ONE Many people had heard of Toni Berwick. She was the new sensation of the Ballet, a young dancer in the classic mode who was thrilling the critics with her poise and skills. Even I had heard of her. I did lift my eyes from the laboratory bench from time to time; a break from the constant research that absorbed me. In those fleeting breaks I would catch up with the news and find time for friends. So yes, I had heard of this ballerina, but I had never seen her. I read the news and sports pages only, skipping the Arts and Entertainment sections so my recognising her even if I saw her was unlikely. My world and her world were different planets and were very unlikely to collide. That would have remained the case until our Director and fundraiser; Sir Henry insisted that I should attend a reception he had organised. Reluctantly I agreed, at the same time secretly planning a family emergency that would keep me away. I had little enthusiasm for being pleasant to the sort of people who would inevitably attend such functions. Politicians on the make, looking to get their faces on camera; minor celebrities seeking publicity and a sprinkling of Lords and Ladies taking advantage of a free meal. They clamoured to be there but none of them were overly keen to get their cheque books out. That was where Henry came in; he could coax donations out of the most unwilling of donors. We needed the publicity and funds for certain, but my contribution was in the laboratory, not in the glittering halls. I had qualified as a Doctor some ten years ago and opted to go into pharmacology research. The Leinster Foundation for which I worked was in essence seeking substances from the natural botanical world that would alleviate or cure the ailments from which human beings could suffer. My plans were torpedoed the day of the reception when in mid-afternoon the Director's secretary came into my office holding a suit hanger. "Simon, you forgot to pick up your dinner jacket. Anyone would think that you didn't want to go to this bash." I groaned as Shelley smiled sweetly at me. My secret plans foundered with her next words. "You know that the television cameras will be there, and Sir Henry wants to introduce you as the man who is getting positive results. I took the liberty of phoning your parents to let them know so they will be watching you with great pride." Damn! The sudden family emergency was scuppered. Shelley had probably suspected that I would desert. "Bitch!" I muttered. "Yes I know, Simon. But only to you. Anyway that ballerina will be there, Toni Berwick. She wants to meet you." "Why?" "Because you are important, that's why. Because without you our research will still be blundering around in the murk. So be a good boy and go home now. Shower, shave and put on your monkey suit. Oh!" She tossed me a small package. "Put some of that on and smell like a human being for once in a while. I'll pick you up at six-thirty." The package was gentleman's cologne. It was a standing joke around the research facility that whilst I did shower every day, after shave and cologne were foreign to me. I considered that their subtle fragrance could never compete with some of the noxious odours our chemicals exuded so why should I bother? Wearily I took the suit, the cologne and drove back to my flat. Shelley was as good as her word arriving at six-thirty on the dot in a black cab. Despite my grumpy mood the sight of Shelley cheered me up. Her dress almost fitted her, or perhaps it was designed to show off so much of her anatomy, and that which was revealed was very nice I thought. All the way to the Dorchester she gave me instructions. "Now for God's sake smile at people, they are not the enemy. Be nice and talk to them in sentences of more than one word, and in English, not that medical gobble-de-gook. Don't drink too much." "I don't drink." "Don't you?" Shelley was surprised. "In that case I think you should have one drink, it may make you more human... and stop leering at my tits. You know damn well why I am glammed up like this." I knew full well that she had designs on Sir Henry. "If he doesn't react to you in that dress then he isn't human. Let me know if you ever give up the chase." Shelley giggled. "That's better. That was almost like a red-blooded man talking. There's hope for you yet. Oh and Simon. I'm a girl with expensive tastes, so unless you have a few million in the bank I am not for you." The reception was all that I had feared. Pedagogues from all the political parties, luminaries from the world of the Arts, Luvvies from the stage who wouldn't stoop so low as to accept a part in television drama yet courted the cameras with a passion; and the peripheral of hangers-on who somehow managed an invite to events like this; all wearing that beaming false smile while greeting people they disliked; chasing celebrity for its own sake. I wandered around trying to remain invisible, yet Shelley seemed to have me on her radar, and would find me whenever Sir Henry wanted to parade me like some performing monkey. To keep me in order Shelley would cling to my arm ensuring that her bosom was in close contact. Who would try and get away with that wondrous experience to savour? Sir Henry talked, the celebrity listened and I would be invited to expound on our research. But as soon as my discourse started to get technical Sir Henry would guide the celebrity away, Shelley would disconnect abruptly and I would be left halfway through a sentence, with my mouth open like a prize idiot. Free meal or not I was getting myself ready for escape when Shelley found me again. "Stop trying to hide, Simon. Now come along Miss Berwick wants to meet you." She dragged me through the crowd to where I could see Sir Henry talking to a woman. He is quite tall so his bulk hid the lady from me. "Here he is Henry." Shelley called as we approached. He turned and for the first time I saw Toni Berwick who aimed a lovely genuine smile at me. "Hello Si." "Antonia! Bloody Hell!" "Nice to see you too." She laughed as for the first time that evening both Sir Henry and Shelley was struck dumb, something that ranks alongside of virgin birth in rarity. Antonia had been a variable commodity in my younger years. She was a friend of my sister, Rebecca usually known as Becky. Becky was six years younger than me and I supposed that Antonia would be about the same age. I didn't enquire after all what teenage lad would want to know his sister's friends, particularly when that sister was an absolute pain most of the time. Becky was at that age when she was still viewed as a girl, yet her hormones were trying to tell her she was a young woman. Her attitude reflected that quandary, she would leave the room as a child and re-enter two minutes later as a woman. Antonia had the same disposition, girlish and Jezebel within the space of a heartbeat. However as much as Becky would chatter, Antonia would rarely say anything. Yet when they went up to Becky's room she would be as garrulous as my sister. They spoke in whispers using that girl's language that no one else could understand. As I passed the door I could hear them, although their sonar would react no matter how quiet I was and there would be a sudden silence. I tried not to take notice of either of them, a difficult task as Becky for some reason or another always wanted to know what I was doing, where I was going and could she and Antonia come along with me. Of course when I said no, I became the unfair, unthinking, horrible big brother. That is until Becky appealed to the supreme authority, mum. There was no arguing with mum who was incapable of understanding that I didn't want my sister with me. It usually ended with the words. "Oh let them come with you Simon. Why are you so nasty to your sister?" I knew then that if I didn't allow the two pests to join me, sanctions would apply. So Becky and Antonia would tag along to watch me play Rugby in the winter, cricket and swimming in the summer. The two pests were always there. They would blight my activities which at that time were concerned with getting to know girls. Sitting outside the cricket pavilion waiting to go in to bat was an ideal time, the girls looked so pretty in their summer dresses. My attempts were often thwarted by the presence of Becky and Antonia, especially when Becky would arrive at my shoulder and enquire of me innocently. "Are you chatting her up, Simon?" Then to the girl. "He fancies you." It made any love life very difficult. I got some relief when I went off to University, studying medicine which meant that I would only have to put up with Becky and Antonia when I was between terms. I continued to play rugby and cricket even managing to get a 'Blue' in rugby albeit in the second team. Becky changed as she grew up and I found that sometimes I actually liked chatting to her. Antonia remained a frequent visitor at our home so I saw her a lot, but we never passed anything more than a polite "hello" and "how are you?" Her resistance to speech persisted. Mum and dad looked forward to calling me Doctor and I did eventually achieve the right to call myself that. They didn't understand my decision to go into research rather than practice medicine. To a certain extent my choice was influenced by my dealings in training with real patients and the twelve months obligatory service after graduation in the hospital. I took exception to patients whose lack of personal hygiene was abysmal and thought that the doctor could diagnose their condition without the patient describing the symptoms. By the umpteenth time I had gone through the twenty questions to discover the patient had loose bowels I had enough. So I chose a branch of medicine where they and I would not come into contact, although I have to say in my own defence that research had always appealed to me. I was intrigued by the way that some substances would react upon human cell forms. So I was now employed at a charitable institute researching the potential of new drugs, in particular drugs derived from botanic sources. Someone would eventually make a lot of money out of a successful drug, but it wouldn't be the Foundation nor would it be me. Whatever Sir Henry had to say about my contribution it was a team effort and it embarrassed me being singled out for praise. Although I had recognised her immediately I was astonished how Antonia had changed. Not just becoming Toni Berwick. She was always slim, and although she had filled out attractively in important areas was still lithe. Now however, she had about her a carriage and elegance that was never there before. Her elfin look had matured a little into the face of a woman who was confident in herself and also how she appeared to the world. She had grown a little taller. She had made that seismic shift from ingénue into a lovely woman. Think of Audrey Hepburn and Antonia was almost her clone. I offered my hand to shake, but she ignored that and moved gracefully towards me, hugged and kissed me on the cheek. A real kiss, not an air- kiss. Sir Henry and Shelley were still trying to understand what had happened here. "It's good to see you again, Si." She used the diminutive that most of my family used for me. "How many years has it been?" "I think it must be at least ten years. And it's really nice to see you Antonia. Your change of name fooled me. I can understand Toni, but where did the Berwick come from?" That was me being me, always researching. Some people had the nerve to call it being nosy! "That was mum's name before she married. It seemed to work better than Birtwhistle." "Birtwhistle is a good Yorkshire name!" I exclaimed. Antonia nodded. "Yes it is. But can you imagine what those hacks in the media would have done with it?" Sir Henry had recovered his aplomb by this time. "It is obvious that you two know each other." Henry had the ability to state the obvious and make it sound as if he was the bearer of astonishing news. "Yes." Antonia replied. "Simon's sister was my best friend. So you could say we grew up together, although Simon tried hard to get away from us. I, of course fancied him terribly, with dreams of him carrying me off in his strong arms to somewhere secluded, kissing me and ravishing me beautifully." She sighed theatrically."But it was not to be." I blushed, Henry smiled and Shelley gave me a look of approbation. Evidently being fancied by a top ballerina got you brownie points. Henry took charge of the situation. "I am sure that you two will want to catch up, so I'll leave you. But I will insist on our conversing later, Miss Berwick. He nodded and walked away with Shelley caught unawares unsure what to do, until she decided to chase after Sir Henry. Antonia watched in amusement. "She won't get him that way." "How do you know that she wants to?" "Women know when another woman is on the hunt. But dressed like that?" She shook her head sorrowfully. "Men like him see her as a tart and treat her accordingly. She needs to be a little less obvious." "She's actually a quite nice girl." I sprang to Shelley's defence. Antonia had a wry smile as she looked at me. "Are you sleeping with her then?" If I had a drink in my hand the glass would have shattered on the floor. I gulped. "No I am not. Anyway she's out of my league." "You are so wrong Si. She doesn't even qualify for your league; you're much too good for her." She looked around a little as waiters circulated trying to get the guests into the dining room. We watched the great and the good shuffle and push to get a table where the TV cameras would catch them. "Are you hungry, Si?" "Not particularly. Why?" "Let's bugger off and go and find somewhere quiet, then we can talk." The expletive coming from someone appearing so refined and wearing such an elegant dress was astonishing; however the suggestion was balm to my ears. I could get away from the great, the good and their boringly self-congratulatory speeches. "Yeah. Good idea." We walked through Mayfair and eventually found a little Bistro in South Molton Street and with coffee and a sandwich in front of me and a glass of still water for her, we could talk. Antonia ate nothing. "I have been on a diet for the last sixteen years." She explained to me. "I can't afford to put on weight; the male dancers wouldn't be able to lift me. I might just pinch some of that lettuce though." She reached across and pulled out a single leaf from the sandwich, crunching it without enthusiasm. I was wearing a dinner jacket and black bow-tie, she was wearing a simple pale gold, long dress which even to my untrained eye looked Haute Couture and very expensive. We were sitting in a little bistro in a side road just off Oxford Street and no one gave us more than a casual glance. That was London for you. Our talk was about the past and how we got to this present. I was particularly interested in her being a ballerina. "I didn't know you were doing that." I told her. "Becky knew. Didn't she tell you? I was taking ballet lessons from five years old." I shook my head. "Well she could have mentioned it. But it probably didn't register." "Didn't register?" Antonia laughed. "More likely you didn't give a toss." She was right. I wouldn't have. "But what about you, Si? We were all pleased when you qualified, and now this research stuff. Is it interesting?" "Yes at times. It is continual experiment, trying substances and reactions over and over again. Hoping that one day you would see a reaction that either proved that it would work or not. When you get the breakthrough that's when it becomes interesting, trying to isolate the substance that triggered the reaction." We talked on long into the evening, my coffee was refreshed frequently, Antonia's water was topped up and the conversation was good. I had never talked so much with Antonia ever before. The mute girl had vanished along with the years. I smiled as I remarked. "You seem to have discovered your tongue these days." She poked the aforementioned article at me. "I couldn't say much to you then, as you would have discovered my secret." "And what secret was that?" I bantered. "That I was in love with you." "Oh how sweet, young love, here today and gone tomorrow." "Don't mock me." The anger in her voice stopped my banter. The coldness in her eyes told me that I had overstepped the mark. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to poke fun at you. I fell in love with girls so quickly and fell out of love just as easily. I think all young people do that." "Some do." Antonia sounded slightly mollified. "Pardon?" "Some do. But I didn't." "What do you mean?" "I am still in love with you. I will always love you. I can't help it." Tears started in her eyes. "There! Now you know." I was unable to think. Fortunately Antonia gave me some time as she fished out a delicate lace handkerchief from her clutch bag and dabbed at her eyes. I gathered my thoughts. "I am sorry, Antonia. I didn't know." "Of course you didn't. It was my secret." "Did Becky know?" "A girl's best friend knows everything. Oh I knew it was futile. I was six years younger than you. You didn't even notice me; I was just the silly girl that hung around with your sister, someone you were always trying to get away from. But Becky had to be with you because of me, so that I would be near you." I was to say the least a little dumbfounded. But Antonia hadn't finished. "All those times that Becky would embarrass you when you were trying to chat up a girl. She did it for me, so that no other girl would get you. I nearly died when you went away to Uni. I was certain that you would find a girl and would be with her. I was in bits because I couldn't do anything to stop it." "Antonia." I started; she put her hand up to stop me. "If you are going to say all the stupid things that people do say, don't! I don't expect you to say you have suddenly discovered feelings for me or anything like that. You wouldn't even know if I hadn't let it out. You see? That's why I didn't talk to you because I knew I could not help myself but tell you. I should have listened to my head and not say anything. It hadn't been my intention to say anything like that, but what I had discovered was the sheer pleasure of talking with her. Something I would like to repeat. I decided to say what I had intended. "No Antonia, I wasn't going to say any of those stupid things. I was going to say that I am flattered for a start; it's not every day that a very attractive woman tells me she is in love with me. It is so unusual, well more than unusual it's actually unique; that I don't know how to react. You have grown into a lovely woman and it was so easy to chat with you. I was dubious about coming to the reception and I tried to get out of it. I am so glad now that I didn't succeed. Seeing you again was good but with you finally finding your tongue and talking with you was exhilarating and I would like to do it again. Can we take it from here? I don't know if I will come to feel about you as you seem to feel about me. What I will say is that if we don't see each other then there is no chance of that happening." She looked at me, examining my face just as my mother had, to see if I was genuine. "You're not just being kind to the afflicted?" "No. I am certain that I would enjoy getting to know you." She nodded. Then broke into a lovely smile. "Am I a very attractive woman?" "Antonia." I said wearily. "If you don't know that your mirror needs changing. So what do you say?" "I would like that." Then she grinned. "Who knows, after two or three dates you might get lucky." Pas de Deux I shook my head. "Not even then. I am not that easy." Antonia giggled then burst into laughter. It was time to go, we exchanged telephone numbers both land-line and mobile. I paid the bill and we walked out. Taxis were frequent at that time of night, yet neither of us hailed one as we chatted. It had been warm earlier and Antonia had not bothered with a wrap. Now it had turned cool, so I took my jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. She didn't say anything but her eyes thanked me. We remained on the pavement talking for another ten minutes when at last she flagged a taxi. The last thing she mentioned before getting into her cab left me speechless again. "I am still a virgin, you know. I have been saving it for you." She handed me back my jacket and then she was gone. CHAPTER TWO On Monday morning I arrived at the laboratory and went into my office to find my white coat. As if she had been waiting for me, Shelley burst in. "So, what have you got to say for yourself?" "About what?" I enquired mildly. "Vanishing from the reception with Miss Berwick. Henry had arranged that she sat at his table and when no one could find her he had to re-arrange things." I noted that it was the fact that Antonia being missing was cause for concern, not me. I also doubted that I would have been sitting at Henry's table. "Antonia had a head-ache. So, just as Henry would have wanted I escorted her home." Shelley was suspicious. "A likely story. Especially when only five minutes before she was quite happy chatting with Henry." "It's a strong probability that chatting with Henry brought on the head-ache." I couldn't resist a little dig. Shelley smiled now. "It's more probable that you whisked her away so that you could renew your acquaintance." She said this in a way that imbued 'renewing our acquaintance' with overtones. "Anyway, Henry wants to see you when he gets in." "On the carpet again?" "I expect so. Probably a spanked bottom as well." Henry was quite happy when I saw him. Antonia had suggested that I use the head-ache excuse and had left a message on his voice mail apologising. Henry had designs on using my friendship with Antonia to seek out more donations. "Simon, one of the reasons I wanted to talk with Miss Berwick, was to ask if she would consider taking part in a charity Gala performance for us. Something I have been thinking about for some time. But with the happy circumstance of your being an old friend it may come better from you." I thought quickly. If our possible relationship was to go anywhere, I did not want to start it by asking her for a favour. "To be honest Henry, I think that Antonia would feel under an obligation to agree if I were to ask her. She was my sisters' friend, not mine. So I would be pushing the acquaintance to its limits. Perhaps the request would be better received if you made it." Henry was disappointed but accepted my reason for refusing. "I understand, in retrospect it probably will be better if I write to her and ask officially rather than using your acquaintance to ask favours." That was Henry all over; no one ever rejected his ideas. He would turn them round and take another tack. We talked for a while about the research. We had been examining some plants from South America which folk tales suggested could be efficacious in the treatment of osteoporosis. That was our main reason for existing, examining old wives tales and treatments with natural ingredients to see if they could be synthesised to help us in the modern world. Later that evening I had a call from Antonia. "Did you get into trouble?" I laughed. "Only from Shelley. Sir Henry didn't even mention it, possibly because he wants to ask a favour of you." "Oh?" "Yes. He is going to write and ask if you would take part in a charity Gala he wants to organise." "I suppose I could, depending on dates. What do you think? Should I do it?" "It's nothing to do with me, Antonia. I told Henry that I wouldn't get involved. I didn't want to be seen as asking for favours, presuming on you after so little time." "Presume away, Si, but I appreciate the sentiment. However what is important to me is when am I going to see you again." "When are you free?" "I'm in rehearsal most days and performing most evenings at the moment. I am free next Sunday if you are." "I will make sure I am. Would you like to take the trip up river to Hampton Court?" "Sounds good to me. Shall I meet you at Westminster Pier?" "Good idea. Let's make it about eleven. Then we have the time to get up river and get some lunch at Hampton." "I'm looking forward to it already. See you then." "It's a date." I heard her giggle down the phone. "A date with my dream man, what more could a girl ask for." The weather Gods gave us the perfect day. A blue sky, just a gentle breeze and a beaming sun to warm the air pleasantly. Antonia was made for jeans; she was slim with a rear that must have made every other woman green with envy. Her short dark hair was simply brushed and decorated with a pair of bright yellow sunglasses that were permanently parked on top of her head, more of a fashion statement than utility. Our day was good, full of banter and conversation in equal measure. She walked close to me, her hand hovering near mine offering me the opportunity to hold should I wish. She was good company, yet I felt an inhibition. Antonia and Becky had been an indivisible couple. You saw my sister and Antonia was there beside her. I had always found it difficult to view Antonia as a person in her own right, more an extension of my sister and thus any intimacy with her would be akin to incest. There were times during the day when I forgot that and just enjoyed being with this pretty, fun girl, yet the inhibition would return from time to time. We were boarding the boat which would take us back to Westminster when Antonia slipped on the gang plank. I instinctively grabbed her. I still held her when she turned to thank me and my hand made contact with her breast. She smiled, and then grinned. "I told you. Two or three dates before you get lucky. But thank you for helping me." She held my hand to take the last few steps boarding the boat, and wouldn't let go even as we took our seats in the Bows. She was breathing quite heavily and I thought that it was because of her slip. "Antonia, did you hurt yourself?" She had lowered her face but looked up to answer my question. She was blushing. "I'm fine." She hesitated then went on. "It's just that when you touched me it was like an electric shock. I have fantasised for years of you holding me in your arms and touching my breast, in my dream it was exciting, but the reality was completely overwhelming." She smiled. "Don't be angry with me Si, please? I know I am pushing things but I can't wait for you to do it again." I was not averse to that. Any man would enjoy the experience. My action had been instinctive, yet I had no sense of it being wrong. I was happy to do it again. As the boat started its journey down river I turned Antonia on the bench we shared so that her back was to me. She relaxed as I supported her and my arms held her. She took my right hand and lifting her arm placed my hand close to her body. The invitation was obvious and as my body and her arm covered the action as she guided my hand to where she wanted it. She squirmed in pleasure. "Thank you my darling. That feels wonderful." I kissed her cheek. "Yes. It's beautiful." "How do you know? You haven't seen them ...yet." We stayed like that all the way. Our heads were so close we didn't need to speak any louder than murmurs. Our talk was desultory as you would expect from two people who were old friends. Even so we arrived at Westminster Pier far more quickly than I would imagine or wanted. Antonia skipped down the gangway lithely, I smiled asking myself if her slip before was intended rather than accident, not that it mattered. We walked up to the bridge. Antonia turned to face me as I asked if she would like to go to dinner somewhere. "I would love to, Si. But I have to say not now. It has been a lovely day, one of the best in my life, and I would enjoy the evening just as much. But there is a distinct possibility that my hormones would overrule my head and I would ask you to take me to your home tonight, so I shall say no whilst I have a semblance of control. I do want to see you again soon though." "I want to see you again soon. Are you involved in rehearsal and performance this week?" She nodded sadly. "Yes I'm afraid I will be." she sounded disconsolate and then suddenly brightened. "Would you like to see me dance? I can get you a ticket." "Aren't they like gold dust?" "Usually, but we always have complimentary tickets for important guests. Do say yes, please Si. We can meet after the performance and spend a little time together." "What theatre and what night?" I asked. "Thursday at the Coliseum. The performance starts at eight-thirty. Go to the ticket office and they will have the ticket with your name." "I'll be there." We parted then. Antonia took a few steps then turned back to me. With a little run she came into my arms and we kissed. This was not a kiss of passion; it was a kiss that two people who may possibly become lovers would give each other. An experimental kiss to see if emotions could be stirred, to see if the lips of their potential lover would excite, a kiss that would ask questions. The kiss answered all those questions very well. It had been tradition to wear formal dress when attending the Ballet or the Opera, a tradition that over the last few years had waned. When we spoke on the phone I asked Antonia if I should wear a Dinner Jacket. "Don't bother, Si. If you were in the Stalls or Dress Circle perhaps you should, but I'm afraid that the only comp ticket I could get you is in the Grand Tier. Sorry about that." "No problem, I would rather sit there and not have to wear formal. What is the piece you are doing?" "Coppelia." "Are you playing Coppelia?" "Yes and no. It depends on the choreography and interpretation, in some productions no one dances Coppelia; she is a life size wooden doll. But another character Swanilda dresses in Coppelia's clothes and dances as if she was Coppelia." "It sounds bloody complicated. So what part are you taking?" "I'm dancing Swanilda." "So in effect you play both parts, Coppelia and Swanilda?" "In this production I do. Now after the performance shall we meet? There is a little place just round the corner in William the Forth Street. It's called Greengage. We could meet there." I have to say that the whole thing went over my head. I understood that in ballet the actual movements and position of the arms were the language used to tell the story, but only an aficionado would appreciate that. What I did enjoy was watching Antonia dance. It was useful knowing what part she danced as all the ballerinas seemed to be clones. Their make-up and lack of facial expression making recognition a very difficult task. Antonia on stage was a revelation. I didn't realise that she had such long legs, or such shapely ones. She was graceful in all her movements especially when she went up on her toes. Later she told me that was known as 'en Pointe'. The programme told the story of Coppelia which was very useful; otherwise I would not have known what was going on at all. 'Greengage' was a little late-night bar, catering mostly to theatre, opera and ballet patrons. I found a small table and ordered my usual mineral water. The tables were quite close so listening to other's conversation was not eaves-dropping, it was unavoidable. I was amused to hear others talking in effusive language about the play they had seen also the ballet that I had just attended. How people could create so much drama in describing their experience that evening I did not know. But then they would probably not understand the excitement I would experience in seeing a culture grow that I had not expected. Antonia arrived round about eleven-thirty. I was amazed. The people next to me had just been discussing her performance, generally in glowing terms, yet when she sat down with me they didn't give her a second glance. I doubted they would recognise her without make-up. I did. Even without make-up and freshly scrubbed, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt, she was lovely. Her smile was addictive and I smiled in response. "What did you think?" She asked as if my opinion was important. "It's difficult to answer that. I have never been to the ballet before and did not know what I was going to see so I didn't have criteria to judge by. I wasn't really watching properly anyway." "Oh." She was disappointed. "No. I couldn't take my eyes off you." She was caught for a moment and then slowly a smile widened her mouth. I went on whispering. "I didn't realise that ballet was so athletic or that you have such shapely legs" She giggled. Then she leaned forward also to whisper. "You would be surprised at how agile I can be. Wait until we go to bed together." "As a Doctor I should be advising you not to undertake anything that strained the joints and ligaments." I was smiling as I said this. Antonia came back straight away. "I understand that Doctors shouldn't enter into relationships with their patients." I nodded knowing what she would say next. "So you are not my doctor and I don't have to take your advice; and you may enjoy my flexibility." Her smile was full of promise. I learned in our conversation that in ballet they do not 'play' a character, they 'dance' the character. Antonia was explaining the terms for some of the movements when a girl of similar age to her came into the 'Greengage'. She waved to Antonia as she glanced around as if looking for someone and upon not finding that person approached us. "Toni. Would you mind if I sat with you for a while. I said I would meet Martin here, but he's late as always." Antonia agreed, not too happily I thought, and introduced me to Pippa. Pippa looked at me boldly then without breaking her stare said to Antonia. "Nice." "Yes and he's mine." Antonia told her firmly. "Pity." I had made my mind up about Pippa very quickly. I didn't like her. She had boldly held my eyes ever since she sat down, even when she spoke to Antonia. I let my dislike show. "Toni and I have known each other for ten years or so. And if you talk to Toni at least have the grace to look at her when you do." "Oh!" At that moment her date must have come in as she got up saying. "See you." And left us. Antonia smiled broadly at me. "Thank you my gallant Knight. That was the third time you have come to my aid." I was perplexed not knowing what she was saying. "When have I come to your aid?" "Last Sunday when you rescued me from falling overboard and then there was the day that Becky and I had tagged along with you when you went swimming. You were messing around in the deep end with your mates trying to distance yourself from us. Some lad was larking around and had bumped me deliberately so I fell in the pool. Becky helped me out and the lad thought it was tremendously funny and was getting close to do it again. Suddenly you were there. You grabbed him and said something to him which scared him. Then you pushed him in. My heart was pumping like anything; my Sir Galahad had rescued me from danger. I just wanted to throw myself into your arms and kiss you. You just stalked away." Antonia said with mock anger. "I think I remember that. Christ! That was years ago." "I know, but it is stored in my memory, one of those little mementoes that deepened my love." Antonia had said this was the third time and for the life of me I could not remember another occasion so I asked. "I don't think you were in any danger of falling overboard last Sunday. I believe that was more deliberate than accident. However, what was the other rescue?" Antonia had the grace to blush, ignored my comment and answered the question. "You will have to think about that." She replied mysteriously. "You'll get there in the end." We left 'Greengage' in the early hours and slowly walked back towards St. Martin's Lane where taxis would be more plentiful. Antonia would take a taxi for Bloomsbury where she had a room. She explained that the Ballet Company owned three large houses split into bedsits, the whole complex referred to as the Nunnery where the Corps De Ballet would live. The accommodation was close to the rehearsal rooms and the theatres. My journey would be by Tube to Hampstead where I had bought a flat. It was close to the research centre and easy to get to the University Annex where we would carry out some trials. Back outside the Coliseum we stood and chatted. I put my arms around her and she snuggled into me happily. "This is heaven." She murmured. "Being held in your arms. I shall have to let you go soon otherwise I shall be making improper suggestions to you." She paused, thinking. "Hey! Is this our second date?" "I suppose it is." "Damn. I can't take you back to the nunnery; the concierge has a sixth sense if a man even gets within six feet of the doorway." "Antonia I am not ready for that yet. When it happens it will be a commitment. You are not a casual fling. It will be an important step in my life." She raised her head and looked at me and nodded. "You don't know how happy that makes me. And you said 'when' not 'if'. Now kiss me and let me go." Our lips met gently to start then her mouth opened and our tongues slipped together. She moaned and clasped me even more tightly. She drew back, breathless. I was amazed that a kiss could generate so many feelings. She offered her lips for another kiss. If anything this had more to say than the first. "Oh Simon!" She cried breathlessly. "You had better go before I get carried away." She nodded. "I never realised that a kiss could do that." She said softly, her eyes swimming with emotion. She stepped back out of my arms. A taxi had drifted to the kerb, the cabbie obviously alert to the possibility of a fare. "Call me." She got in the cab and closed the door. As it started away she sat forward holding my gaze as long as possible. CHAPTER THREE I thought a lot about Antonia over the next few days, trying to rationalise my feelings. In my teens I had tried to avoid Becky and Antonia as much as possible, although I hadn't been nearly as successful as I would have wished. Nonetheless having been saddled with them I was protective of them. The remnant of that guardianship was still with me. Yet I was now viewing Antonia as a woman rather than the innocent I was tasked to protect. She had grown from that gangling girl to a rather beautiful young woman, assured and successful in her chosen field. More than that I enjoyed her company. I looked forward to our meetings and was sad when we parted. Kissing her was wonderful and made me yearn for more. Was I, without realising falling in love? Over the next few months we did the usual things together, cinema, going out for dinner those evenings she wasn't performing although it was more a case of I dined and Antonia would pinch little morsels from my plate. I would go to watch her performance from time to time and became more knowledgeable of the ballet, although I had to confess to her that it wasn't really my cup of tea. I asked her once what got her into ballet. As always she was very honest. "It was something that I could do. Mum had started me when I was five and I danced well, although at that time I couldn't say that I was keen on ballet. As time went by I progressed. I was eleven when I first saw you. I had known Becky for years but her brother was a mysterious stranger. Then I met you and fell head over heels, even though I couldn't talk to you. You were so clever and everyone said you would go to University and become a Doctor. I was a complete dunce; the only thing I could do was dance, so I concentrated on the dance so that I had something I could do well and not seem such an idiot around you." Pas de Deux "So it was my fault?" I laughed. "Yes, Si. Your fault entirely." She smiled sweetly. At University I had often gone to Jazz concerts and liked the style, so decided to introduce Antonia to the music, so different to that she knew. There were many Jazz Clubs around London at that time and one evening we visited one where the band was particularly good. As usual with Jazz Clubs the place was warm, smoky, crowded and wonderful. I loved the music and was very pleased when Antonia, her face alight with a broad smile started tapping her feet and moving her hips to the beat. Jazz attracts an eclectic audience so we mingled with all sorts. Unfortunately the club had allowed entrance to a few young men who were rendered more confident by drink and an altercation took place when one thought that he could make free with another man's girlfriend. Punches were thrown and in the melee a surge started in the mostly standing crowd. I was buffeted but being over six feet and of a build suitable to rugby I stood firm. Antonia who was slightly apart from me was knocked over and many feet were treading carelessly near her. Without thought I bent down creating a shield for her with my body and picked her up. Still carrying her in my arms I bullied my way to the exit. She clung to me tightly until we got into the street and I set her down. "Are you hurt?" Was my first concern. I shouldn't have been as she had a beautiful smile on her face. "No, not at all. Excited? Yes. My Sir Galahad rescued me again. Now he should take the Maiden and allow her to show him how grateful she is." She reached up and kissed me. "And she is very, very grateful." I knew it had been dangerous in there and Antonia was making a joke of it. I was probably testy when I snapped. "Well I am happy for you, but this Sir Galahad was bloody worried." The smile vanished and concern etched her face. "I'm sorry, Si. I didn't realise." "No. It's alright for you. It's fun isn't it? I have seen the injuries caused by trampling and they are not nice. I...I thought for a moment..." "What? What did you think?" "I could see you being trampled underfoot. I was ready to lash out at anyone who had done that, who had injured you, although it wouldn't have been their fault." Antonia enveloped me in her arms. "Oh Si. I am so sorry for treating it as a joke." "Don't worry. Forget it. It was just the tension." She looked up and there were tears in her eyes. "I am sorry, darling. It's just this thing I have. You are my protector. Nothing will harm me as long as I am with you." "Another of your childish dreams." I said angrily. She looked at me sadly. "I think we need to talk." We found a cafe just along the street. Once we were sitting down with coffee Antonia talked. "I think I know what you believe. That I am still dwelling on my childish infatuation. Well perhaps when I was eleven it was, and probably remained like that until we met again. Yes, Simon an infatuation. I was in love with a dream and then you came back into my life, the reality, the man. My dream faded as I began to know you, know you properly. Then my feelings changed and I woke up. You weren't the Knight Errant of my dreams, you were flesh and blood. The dream of your carrying me off in your strong arms and ravishing me beautifully had gone. Anyway the ravishing part was always gauzy, indistinct as if something as basic as you taking my virginity was too prosaic to be part of a romantic dream. I got to know you again, a different Simon to the one I had known and over these last few months it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you all over again. Not the childish love but the real love of a woman for a man. It's not the stuff of Mills and Boon novels; it's no longer 'with one bound he was by her side' stuff. It's real. The gauze has been lifted, Simon. I love you as a woman should. I want you to be my first and my only lover, I will welcome the pain and the blood as you take my virginity; I will welcome the pain and the blood as I give birth to your children. I love you Simon and this time I am not dreaming." What could I say after such a declaration? I still viewed myself as her protector but could I protect her from me? I had been aware for some time how important Antonia had become to me. It wasn't just the physical appeal, there was so much more to her. She had called herself a dunce which wasn't true. We talked of many things, politics, music, books. Conversations that started on one topic then branched off into a myriad of others as some comment sparked another, fresh subject to dissect and analyse. It was amusing that we could talk for hours on end, go round the globe, and as circumventing the globe will do, so we would end up where we started. It was time to admit my feelings. "I love you too, Antonia." She didn't smile, she didn't grin. All that happened was that her face settled into a calm attitude of pleasure. A serene acceptance of our future. She gathered her bag and got ready to leave. "Soon, my darling, soon. But not tonight. I want to get used to being 'us' not you and me. Can you understand that?" "Yes." "Will you take me back to the nunnery?" "Of course." CHAPTER FOUR Sir Henry caught me a few days later. "Ah! Simon. I have heard back from Miss Berwick and she has agreed to dance for us. I have invited her here tomorrow afternoon so that she can see what we are trying to do. Would you be available to show her round?" "Well, yes. But I would have thought that you could do that better than me." He nodded in agreement. "I just thought that as you and she are old friends it would be less formal. Shelley will be with you, it will help Miss Berwick feel more at ease." I smiled inwardly. If only he had been party to Antonia's comment at the reception. I phoned Antonia that evening. "I understand that I shall see you tomorrow afternoon." "Yes. Sir Henry was most insistent that I should see what you do." "If you are not performing tomorrow evening, would you like to go out for dinner afterwards?" "That would be great. Will I have time to get back here and change? I would like to look my best for you." "You always look good to me." "Si! Thank you. That's just turned my insides to jelly." I got the call to join Henry in his office a little after three that afternoon. Henry and Shelley were there when I entered. Antonia was sitting in one of the leather armchairs that Henry kept for important visitors. She smiled widely at me. "Ah! Simon. Would you like some tea before you start?" Shelley smiled at me and Antonia positively beamed. As usual Henry talked about the importance of our work and how it could benefit mankind. That was his forte, that and his ability to ease money out of the pockets of the rich into our coffers. He left at three-thirty citing another appointment, and Shelley, Antonia and I set off for the tour. There was very little to see. The technicians were busy working at jobs that to the uninitiated would appear mundane and repetitive. I tried to explain that introducing an extract of a plant to a cell culture once would not be indicative of its effect. It had to be done many times to rule out contamination. If the reaction was the same then perhaps we had found something. We then had to try and isolate the chemical within the plant extract that was the reagent. Antonia followed the explanation with apparent interest. "It takes months, even years to get a positive result. Even then you can discover something by accident. Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin purely by chance. But when you consider how many lives that has saved it all becomes worthwhile." Shelley became quieter as we continued the tour, but she seemed to be watching Antonia and me very closely. After Antonia had left Shelley tackled me. "Are you two having an affair?" "We are seeing each other from time to time, but I wouldn't describe it as an affair." "If it isn't now, it will be soon." "How do you come to that conclusion?" "Simon, the way you look at each other. She's totally in love with you, and if Henry would look at me the way you look at Toni I would be over the moon with happiness." She brushed away a little tear. "She's very lucky. She will have a man who will always love, respect and care for her. If I ever get Henry I will have a superficial philanderer." I knew that Henry was a womaniser. His first divorce after his adultery had cost him over a million pounds. His second for the same reason had hit him for a similar sum. "So why chase after him?" "He's very wealthy, Simon. And I want the good life that money brings. Now you can call me a gold-digger if you wish. But if you were brought up in poverty as I was you would probably think as I do. My dad tried hard but money was always tight. Mum became quite inventive in making cheap food look and taste different, and second hand clothes patched and darned lose their appeal after a while. Henry could give me everything I want. All the same I envy you and Antonia." "You're throwing yourself away, Shelley." "Possibly, but I will get diamonds as compensation." I had arranged to meet Antonia outside Hampstead Tube station. I brought my car as the restaurant where I had made reservations was some distance away; also later I would take her back to Bloomsbury. I wouldn't be happy about her travelling back on the Tube late at night although I suspected that option may not be on the cards. I parked right outside the entrance and stood by the car keeping a wary eye out for traffic wardens. She arrived just as one of the yellow-coated predators came into view. Antonia saw me immediately and ran to greet me with her face upturned for a kiss. The traffic warden was of little consequence as our lips clung together. I opened the door and she got in. I did the same and was just driving away as the warden reached the car. The look of disappointment on his face convinced me that he and his fellow wardens were on a commission. Antonia turned to me. "Where are we going?" "There's a restaurant I found that should suit us well. It has a very good salad bar." She laughed. "I see. My diet has been committed to memory." "They also do some excellent steaks. And their fried potato is to die for." "Oh no!" She cried. "Something else to tempt me this evening." "What else is tempting you?" "You, Sir Galahad. You." "Well you should know Sir Galahad has made his last rescue until the maid rewards him." "Oh!" Antonia went silent. Then she giggled. As we passed the Heath she sat silently with a beatific smile on her face. We dined well. I with a butterfly Chicken fillet and Antonia with a selection of salads from the bar. She went for variety rather than quantity, even then didn't eat everything but pushed the servings around the plate to disguise the denial of her appetite. She did accept a glass of dry white wine. Later she sat swirling the wine around the glass watching me finish eating the chicken. "Do you live close?" With my mouth full I couldn't answer so I nodded. "Can we have coffee there? I would like to see where you live." I finished the food in my mouth. "Yes. It did cross my mind that you would want to see the place. It's just up the road to Golders Green. But it's only a flat." Antonia smiled. "Indulge me." I shrugged my shoulders. "No problem." "It's only a flat!" Cried Antonia in disbelief when we arrived. "It's a bloody mansion." I had bought the place shortly after starting work at the research institute. It had been an Edwardian family house with a large garden. Usually the developer would tear down the house to maximise the grounds where he could build at least six homes. This developer had different ideas, converting each floor into a spacious apartment and using the large garden to build four detached homes. I had bought the first floor apartment before the conversion was finished. The advantage of this was the roof garden built over an extension to the ground floor flat. The owners of that wanted an indoor swimming pool. They had to get my agreement to extend and as part of that agreement I insisted on the roof becoming my private garden. Paved with slabs and decorated with potted plants it was a very pleasant place to be when the weather was clement. Antonia walked around looking at everything, eventually opening the door to my bedroom. This looked out over the roof garden through glazed French doors. I pointed out the view from the windows but she wasn't interested, ignoring the view standing still and taking in the room. She turned to me. "It's a lovely apartment, and your bedroom colour scheme is so relaxing. I love it. If I could have dreamed of a place where I would lose my virginity this is what I would have dreamed of." "Do you want to stay?" Her eyes gleamed as she nodded. "I don't mean just one night. Do you want to stay?" She caught her breath. "Do you mean that?" "Yes." "Darling Si. Yes, yes, yes, yes." She blushed prettily. "Undress me, Si. Take me to your bed and make me a woman, your woman." Undressing her was easy. Her dress unzipped down the back and she had not bothered with a brassiere nor panties. She came into my arms and I picked her up, there were just four steps to my bed. CHAPTER FIVE It was a few minutes before seven when I woke up. Having another body in my bed was not completely strange, but the body next to me this morning was one I knew I would want there every morning from now on. I turned slightly to see Antonia propped on one arm regarding me with warm loving eyes. "Good morning my darling." She brought her lips to mine. "Thank you." "Why should you thank me?" "For loving me, for making my first time so beautiful, for making my dreams come true." "If I could have dreamed of a beautiful woman in my bed, you are the one I would have dreamed of." I paraphrased her comment of last night. If possible her eyes became warmer and slightly moist. My phone rang. I was inclined to ignore it but on occasions it had been because something interesting had happened at the laboratory. Still smiling I picked it up. "Hello." "Si?" It was Becky. "Hi Becky. How are you?" "I'm worried. I have been ringing Ant time and again yesterday and early this morning and she isn't answering. I know you and she are meeting from time to time. Do you know where she is?" I put my hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Antonia. "It's Becky. Wants to know where you are." She held her hand out for the phone; instead I pressed the button for the speaker. Antonia leaned over and rested on my chest. "Hello Beck." "Oh! You're there." "Yes." "I was worried. I thought you had an accident or something." Antonia had a mischievous smile as she replied. "You know I can't have an accident when I am with Sir Galahad. Becky! Now you should think about this. It's just after seven in the morning. You phone Si at his home, he is here and I am here. Put your dirty mind in gear." "You mean...You didn't, did you?" "Yes" "And?" "I am in Si's bed. I am completely naked, so is Si. I have been kissed everywhere, caressed everywhere. My pussy is a little sore but very, very happy, and I am over the moon." It sounded as if Becky was crying with happiness as she said. "I am so happy, my best friend has got together with the best brother a girl could ever have." "I am your only brother." "Splitting hairs Si." She then carried on her conversation with Antonia. I was becoming interested in other things. Antonia's breasts were close to my hands and lips. I used both to explore and titillate. Antonia's breathing became heavy with an occasional gasp. "Are you alright?" Becky asked her. "Very, very alright." Antonia replied breathlessly. "Your brother is interfering with me." "Oh do tell." Becky demanded. "Perhaps some other time, but at the moment Si has started something and I think he needs my co-operation to finish. I'll call you later." When Antonia finished the call it seemed that she was interested in interfering with me as well. Antonia was astonished that she had no pain when I penetrated her for the first time. I tried to explain that with all the barre work she would have done there was little possibility of her hymen being intact. She seemed disappointed. When we had got up Antonia had thrown the duvet back. I was in the bathroom when I heard her scream. I rushed in, my cheeks and chin covered with shaving cream to see Antonia dancing and laughing happily. "What is it?" I asked somewhat testily. "Look Si." She pointed to the bottom sheet. "Blood! I was a virgin." "I didn't believe for a moment that you weren't. But if you wish we can hang the sheet over the balcony." "Why would we do that?" Antonia seemed perplexed. "In days of old when other Sir Galahads took their maiden to bed for the first time, they would, in the morning hang the bottom sheet over the balcony so his friends and attendants could see the blood and know that she was brought to the marriage bed unsullied." "I don't think I want that." "No need my darling. Your screams last night told my neighbours all they needed to know." A pillow was flung at me and I had to go and put more shaving cream on. It was strange having someone live with you. After all those years, first at University and then working at the Institute when I had lived alone, now having someone else to consider was a hurdle to say the least. Antonia made her presence obvious, she took over the bathroom; filling the shelves upon which my few requirements had been neatly stored with a multitude of creams and lotions. My wardrobe was full of her clothes, so many pairs of Jeans and sweat-shirts in all the colours of the rainbow. I could no longer find my underpants or socks without a full scale search. My kitchen however remained as pristine as it had always been. Antonia never seemed to eat anything apart from a lettuce leaf, nor drink anything but water. I quite enjoyed cooking and disappointment set in when having prepared a meal, Antonia would nibble on the smallest of servings, just enough to say that it was good. She would then watch me occasionally picking a morsel from my plate. I worked odd hours at times as did she. When she was performing she would return home late at night, exhausted and discard the clothes she was wearing along the journey from the front door to the bed. She seemed to time the operation perfectly, just having her panties to remove the moment before she fell into bed. If I thought it was time for intimacy I was wrong. The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep. The morning was a different kettle of fish. I would be eased from sleep by hot breath and kisses all over my chest encouraging me to wake up whilst a hand would play with my morning erection. Antonia had gone from innocent to an experienced seductress in no time at all. Am I complaining? Is the Pope Catholic? The answer to those questions was no and yes. I had started to call her Ant, which was how Becky had always called her but Antonia put a stop to that. "Everyone calls me Ant. Becky, my mum and dad, all my relations. I'm Toni professionally. The only person who calls me Antonia is you and I like that. It is special. When I hear Antonia I know who is calling me. It is my man, my lover, the husband of my heart. I hear Antonia and my heart thrills. Please don't change that." Sir Henry had booked the Hippodrome for the Charity Gala, and had lined up a cast from the world of Ballet, Opera, the Theatre and T.V. to do guest appearances. The patrons could expect a very entertaining evening. He had asked Antonia if she would dance the 'Dying Swan'. She was derisive of that choice. "God! Couldn't he have chosen something a little less passé?" It was a Sunday afternoon and we were sitting on the roof garden enjoying some unseasonal sun. Pas de Deux "What would you suggest?" "The Rose Adagio from 'The Sleeping Beauty'. Now that's spectacular, but not technically a solo." "Why?" "Aurora does all the dancing, but she has four male dancers on stage for support. I'm sure I could persuade four of the boys to do that. We're all conversant with Frederick Ashton's choreography. Would Sir Henry let me do that?" "I doubt that Sir Henry knows his dying swan from his adagio. I wouldn't even ask him. Hell! Antonia you are dancing for free. You do what you want to do." She thought for a moment and I could see her decision firm. "I'll talk to the Director tomorrow and get the scores for the orchestra." The Gala went off well. It was a sort of 'spot the celebrity' evening. Of course Henry was in his element, glad-handing, back-slapping and air-kissing cheeks. I stayed out of it, probably for the best as my conversation was too dry and medical at these times. Nor did I get a good seat. The stalls and circle were reserved for the paying through the nose customers. The freebie seats were in the upper tier and well to the back. A very put out Shelley was with me. She thought that Henry should have seated her next to him. It's at times like this that you understand where you are in the pecking order. During Antonia's performance she watched with interest then towards the end turned to me. "She's bloody good. And she is sleeping with you?" "You sound surprised, Shelley." She shook her head. "No Simon. Probably envious of her." "I seem to recall a conversation we had about your being an expensive girl." "That's true. It doesn't mean that I wouldn't mind getting between you and your mattress occasionally though." "Sorry, Shelley. I'm a one girl man, and that's the girl, the one on the stage." "She's bloody lucky." I could hear the anguish in her voice. After the show the Bars opened and we entered the crush as the guests, having relieved their thirst for culture, now relieved their thirst for alcohol. The girl behind the bar was very surprised when I asked for champagne for Shelley and a sparkling mineral water for me. The first drink was free, courtesy of the theatre. I found a comfortable place half-hidden behind a potted palm. Shelley left me to see if she could get to Henry's side. The sound of clapping brought me out from my lair. It was for Antonia. My appreciation of her dancing was more about my love of looking at her than her technical ability. The clapping was for her performance. I had gathered from overheard snippets of conversation that she had danced this difficult piece superbly. She acknowledged the clapping and compliments with her smile even as she searched the bar with her eyes. Then she caught sight of me and graciously yet determinedly she made her way through the crush. I met her half-way and she came into my arms, uncaring of the people around us. She lifted her lips for my kiss. "Well! What did you think?" "Absolutely beautiful. And the dancing was quite good too." She laughed and punched me playfully on my arm. "Come with me as I pay my respects to Sir Henry and some others, then we can get off home." She stopped and a peaceful smile flitted across her face. "Home. I like that. Your home is my home, the Castle where my gallant Knight resides, where I can be me and be protected." A glint came into her eyes. "And be fucked so beautifully. Lets' get this done, Mister, as I need some loving." We did the rounds. Henry, with Shelley in attendance, was effusive. "What a wonderful performance, absolutely superb." He looked at me then back to Antonia. "A little bird tells me that you and my star researcher have become a bit of an item. Is that so?" "No need to be coy, Sir Henry. I am sharing Simon's home and his bed, so the answer's yes." Henry as ever took this in his stride. "Oh I'm so pleased. I do like my protégés to have a settled home life." As we chatted another man came to join the group. Henry welcomed him. "Miss Berwick. May I introduce Edgerton Cummings?" Antonia politely extended her hand to shake. Mr. Cummings took her hand and held on to it. "It's really great to meet with you, Toni. I had heard of you of course, but until tonight didn't realise how well you danced." Edgerton Cummings spoke with an American accent. "I have some great plans I would like to discuss with you." He kept Antonia's hand, gripping quite tightly, so tightly that white shadows appeared as blood was excluded from her epidermis. I could see Antonia trying to release her hand and becoming uncomfortable and I got pissed off with his impertinence. "Mr. Cummings. I do understand that in the U.S. people will use given names from the start. However in this country we don't until invited to. Miss Berwick was introduced to you as Miss Berwick, and you are hurting her by holding her hand tightly like that." Mr. Cummings turned his gaze on me. We agreed silently that we didn't like each other. "And you are?" Antonia made the introduction. "This is Simon Easton, my fiancé." Now that was the first I had heard of that. Cummings ignored me and addressed Antonia again. He did release her hand though. "Could we get together sometime, Miss Berwick." He emphasised the 'Miss'. "I have some projects I would like to talk about." "I'm sorry Mr. Cummings. I have a contract with the Ballet Company D'Anglais and cannot work outside of that contract. If you would like to contact the company's director, Mr. Ballinger, he could probably help you." "But you danced this evening." "Yes. It's a Charity Gala, and I had the Company Director's permission to perform." I had no antipathy towards Yanks, indeed quite a lot of my family had emigrated to Boston in the nineteen twenties. Also I had many conversations with other researchers in the U.S. with whom I got on well, so I had many relatives and friends on the other side of the Atlantic. It wouldn't have mattered what nationality Edgerton Cummings was, he was rude and overbearing. His worst offence was that he had treated Antonia disrespectfully. I was glad when we got away. Unfortunately we would encounter Edgerton Cummings again. CHAPTER SIX The Ballet D' Anglais, unlike other companies did not have a permanent home theatre so could be described as a touring company, although most of its productions were in London. In the time we were together Antonia had performed at three London theatres and with the company had danced in Birmingham, Manchester and Edinburgh. These were usually for a single week of performances. She had just heard that the company had been asked to tour the U.S.A. Antonia was excited and depressed, obviously excited at touring the States and depressed because she would be away for at least six weeks. We were having one of those fine spells that occur infrequently in England and we had gone up to the Heath to walk, enjoy the sunshine and to discuss the tour. "I'm in bits, Si. I shall be away from you for at least six weeks. The people who are arranging the tour are trying to get more bookings so it could be even longer." This was the depressed Antonia and then in the next breath I got the excited version. "We will be performing in New York, Boston, Seattle and then Los Angeles and Houston, we shall be seeing pretty well all of the States." Her enthusiasm was infectious although I was certain that this whistle-stop tour would not show her half of what the States had to offer. Then her happiness dissolved. "I am going to miss you terribly." I stopped and took her into my arms. "Antonia, if it's for six weeks or eight weeks, it is little enough time compared with the rest of our lives and when we are old you will look back and treasure the memories." "Are we going to grow old together, Si?" "Yes. You introduced me as your fiancé, so you can't back out of it now, and I think we should make it official." "Are you asking me to marry you?" "Yes, Antonia. When you came to the flat I asked you to stay forever. Your life and mine are intertwined, without you I am just a dried up medical researcher, with you I am alive and I understand things that I have looked at but never seen. I love you Antonia and I want you to be my wife and my soul mate." There was no hesitation. "Yes, Si. Totally and completely, yes. There's nothing I want more than to be your wife." "We'll go and choose an engagement ring as soon as possible." I decided. "Leave it until I'm back from the States, darling." I looked askance and Antonia went on to explain. "I can't wear jewellery when performing and once I am wearing your ring, I will never want to take it off." She paused and a mischievous smile spread across her face. "We'll phone Becky tonight and give her an update on our romance." "Do you keep her informed of everything?" "Oh yes, Si. She's my best friend after you. Becky got to know about the first intimate touch, the first kiss and of course you know about my telling her that we slept together." "Is there nothing private?" Antonia shook her head. "Not between a girl and her best friend." The phone call was made that evening. Becky answered and Antonia, without any salutation announced her news. "Si has asked me to marry him and I have said yes." Whatever Antonia was going to say then was drowned by the squeal of joy from the other end. "Oh Ant. that's great, I am so happy. I was hoping that you and Si would get together. Even if he is my brother I am so pleased that you caught him." "She didn't catch me." I had to say something. "I came willingly." There was a sudden silence and then giggling from Becky and sniggers from Antonia. I realised my unintended innuendo. Between giggles Antonia carried on the conversation. "Don't pay attention to him, Beck. He's a man and you know their thinking is always based down there." "Don't I know it?" Becky laughed. "So when will it be?" I answered that question. "As soon as possible when Antonia gets back from her tour to the States." "See! He's eager." Antonia told Becky. The fateful day, a Sunday arrived and I drove Antonia down to Bloomsbury where three coaches were picking up the company to take them to Heathrow. It appeared, wisely I thought, that they didn't trust the dancers to be on time for their flight should they be allowed to make their own way there. The dancers milled about, chatting to each other and with the well-wishers seeing them off. The Director, Mr. Ballinger was red-faced and perspiring as he tried to get his charges in order. Antonia was clinging to me as if her life depended on it, even as the last stragglers arrived and boarded the coaches she clung fiercely. The Director noticed and disembarked from the coach. "Time to go Toni." He said gently. Antonia buried her face in my chest denying the moment. "Come along Toni. We must leave now." Reluctantly and with a final kiss she parted from me. "I'll phone you as soon as I can." I nodded. To be honest this was hurting me as much as Antonia. She boarded the coach with Mr. Ballinger bringing up the rear like a shepherd dog rounding up the strays. The door closed and the coaches pulled away. The last I saw of Antonia was her waving at me from the back window. Unhappily I went back to my car and drove home alone. The next morning I was grumpy at work. The other researchers and technicians soon learned to keep out of my way. I was in my office at lunchtime when Shelley came in. "The boys and girls are telling me that you are a bear with a sore head." I grunted. Shelley went on. "Missing her already? It's only been a day." "She won't be back for six weeks at least. That I will find difficult." "I'll be happy to console you." "What?" "You heard." "Shelley I remember telling you that I am a one girl man. Just because that girl is away for a while doesn't mean that I can change that status." "You wouldn't. It would still be a one girl situation, just the girl being different." "What about Henry?" "Henry will never be a one girl man. Anyway I think I am giving up on him. He took me to a party over the weekend. It was all cronies and floozies, low cut short dresses and legs all over the place. I suddenly understood how he viewed me, and I didn't like myself." I could see her eyes moisten in shame. "I think you are being too hard on yourself." "Possibly." She nodded. "But you could say it was an eye-opener at any rate. So while I am looking for my next millionaire I could help you get over your loneliness, or at least prevent frustration." "Under any other circumstance, Shelley, I would be very happy to have you on my arm and in my bed. But Antonia and I are getting married when she gets back. If I can't survive for six weeks without her, I don't deserve her." "If only a man would say that about me." She wailed. The moisture in her eyes turned to tears. "Simon you are one of the best, and if I ever get the chance I will tell Antonia." She ran from the office. I heard from Antonia frequently, although some of her phone calls were in the very late hours or early mornings, she hadn't got the hang of time differences. It became obvious that as the company travelled west the time difference would involve one or the other of us making or receiving calls at ungodly hours. I tried to call her at the hotels they used, but that seemed to be at times she was either performing or out and about. A couple of times they had not booked into the hotel they were supposed to be staying at. When we did speak she was angry as the organisation of the tour seemed to be quite haphazard. One of Antonia's little idiosyncrasies was her forgetting that her mobile phone needed recharging, or topping up with credit so phoning her cell was a frustrating exercise as four out of five times she didn't answer. Consequently I had to rely on Antonia to phone me. Her sour mood mollified as the days rolled by. "I can't wait, Si. Just four weeks to go and I shall see you again." She was counting down the days and weeks and with every day passed she was nearer to being home. The next time she called me she was disconsolate. The tour had been extended for another two weeks Three days later Henry asked me to come to his office. He was as usual, urbane and full of himself. This is a good sign for him. "Ah, Simon." He welcomed me."Thanks for popping by." He got up to shake my hand and indicated the coffee pot on the side table. It was fresh and steam rose lazily from the spout. Being offered coffee was a good sign, or rather a sign that Henry wanted something from you. If he had poured the coffee himself it would mean he was to ask a very big favour. However I was left to pour my own coffee. It would be only a middling favour then. "Simon. I will be going to the States in ten days time. There is a meeting that I should attend. However it has come to my notice that included in the proceedings will be seminars and discussion groups, so I think your presence would be advantageous. There may be some representatives of the big drug companies there but mainly many of your research colleagues from other countries. The venue is a hotel and conference centre in Denver. Shelley will get your accreditation and make your travel arrangements. Do you think you could get away?" The question was largely superfluous. Whatever I thought I was going. It was obvious from what he said that much of the discussion would be beyond him so he needed me there to talk the technical stuff, whilst he did what he did best. Politicking and shaking hands. I thought to get a little something for myself though. "I will be happy to go, Henry. If I took a few days off before I could visit my cousins in Boston on the way. Would it be ok if I get Shelley to book me with a stopover there?" It was a spur of the moment idea. "Perfectly alright." He waved his hands casually as if giving a benediction. "Just make sure you are in Denver for the 30th." It was my grandfather's brother, who emigrated to the States in nineteen twenty-three. In those years emigrating was a usually a journey into the unknown. It also meant losing contact with your family. Some ties did survive with correspondence. But in the main those who emigrated never again saw nor heard from the relations they left behind. When I was at Cambridge University doing my medical studies I had used their library to trace as much of my family as I could. University libraries have far more detailed information than most online ancestry sites. Easton is not an unusual name and it took me quite some time and many blank leads before eventually I managed to contact my cousin Kent who lived near Boston. He was astounded when I got in touch and we exchanged long emails bringing both of us up to date. I teased him a little for his name, Kent, as that county in south east England was where our family had lived for over three hundred years. In phone calls he urged me to come and visit and meet the family, so when I phoned him and announced that I was coming to the States and would visit he was thrilled. His wife, Amelie came on the phone and in no uncertain terms told me that I would be staying with them. I had already made a reservation at the Marriott Long Wharf, courtesy of Shelley who told me that the Foundation would pick up the tab although they wouldn't know about it. Despite this I accepted Amelie's hospitality as from her tone I daren't do otherwise. I tried to call Antonia to let her know I was coming to the States, but her mobile was either in need of more credit or had run out of charge and the hotel she was supposedly staying at in Pittsburgh told me that the booking for the Ballet D'Anglais had been cancelled. They didn't know where the company were staying. Pittsburgh was on Eastern Daylight time and was five hours behind London so my phoning as I was at eleven p.m. should have been convenient for Antonia at six early evening. The following night Antonia called me, waking me up at twelve-thirty. Apart from mutual assurance that we loved and missed each other I asked what was going on. "Antonia, you never seem to be staying at the hotel your schedule indicates." "I know Si. I am as confused as you. The bus picks us up at the airport and takes us to a hotel of which we have no knowledge. Mr. Ballinger is getting extremely angry." There was nothing either of us could do about this so I went on to give her some good news. "I am coming to the States next week. I am staying with my cousin Kent in Boston and then moving on to Denver for a conference. I am sure I could get a flight from Logan to Pittsburgh and see you. Even if only for a day." The wail of frustration could not be mistaken. "Damn, damn. Si. We are flying to San Francisco on Saturday." My spirits dropped. "What date to you have to be in Denver?" "From the thirtieth for five days." "We will be in San Francisco for that time. Perhaps I could come over for half a day?" Antonia suggested. "Antonia that's about a thousand miles." "Oh! I thought they were quite close." "Not too close." I replied. "Where will you be staying in San Francisco?" "I've no idea. This venue has been sprung on us at the last minute. I'll tell you now, Si. This tour has been put together by amateurs." That surprised me. I had never known the Americans be anything but efficient. "Let me know where you will be staying as soon as possible. I am sure I can take a day off from the Seminar and grab a flight to San Francisco." "If you can darling. That would be wonderful, it would cheer me up so much, and I'd love to see you." Antonia said with hope in her voice. Having been allowed to enter the United States by Customs and Border Protection at Logan, I walked into a surprise. In the arrival hall I noticed a large cardboard sign with the words "Welcome Limey Cousin Simon." I walked over and was surrounded not just by Kent and his family, but his father and mother, sister and cousins both male and female none of whom I had ever seen before. Names came at me quick fire and my hand was shaken until it felt quite numb. Also more pleasantly I was hugged and kissed on the cheek by Amelie and other female relatives. My English reserve was shaken by their unabashed display of affection. I was relieved of every item of luggage and taken out to where their cars were parked. Pas de Deux The extended family took their leave at that point and told me they would see me later. Kent explained. "You will meet everyone later when we go out for dinner; you have an appointment to meet a real American steak." I looked forward to meeting this phenomenon. Kent had made a reservation at Franks Steak House for a large table. It was needed. My other cousins, second cousins and cousins once removed were all waiting for me. Again I was besieged with hands to shake and cheeks to be kissed. In between I answered questions about relations that they had heard of but never known. I had formulated a family tree going back to eighteen fifty-one and I had a dozen copies which I circulated, this engendered even more questions and in between answering questions I tried to look at the menu. Kent took it away from me. "You are getting steak. You don't come to this place and eat anything but steak." He ordered the eighteen ounce New York Sirloin for me. I stopped him. "No way am I going to eat eighteen ounces of steak. Is there a smaller one?" "Ok." He said wearily. "Give him a fourteen ounce." The waitress needed to know how I would like it done I answered. "Medium please." She stopped writing and looked at me. "Are you English?" I agreed. "Yes. I am English." "I knew straight away, I just love your accent, it's so cute...and you said please. My pa always said that the English were polite." I thought of saying that I didn't think I had an accent but desisted. Anyway it was good to know that she thought my accent was cute. The steak arrived and I blanched, it was daunting. The platter was twice as large as a normal dinner plate to accommodate the steak and the mashed potato that came with it. The waitress also placed to the side a large bowl of tossed salad. I waited for everyone else to be served and when they started to eat I did likewise. I picked up my knife and fork and started to eat in the English manner. There was a sudden silence. Everyone was watching me, including the waitress. "Will you look at that?" One of my female cousins, I think it was Jo-Anne, remarked breaking the silence. "Knife and fork together. Wow, that is so, so English!" Having tasted it and being transported to Heaven by the flavour, I tucked in and ate all the steak, the potato and salad defeated me. It took me some time as apart from the meal being generous I was constantly being asked questions and asking them as well. I finished and sat back with a contented sigh. "Right, Simon." Kent enquired. "What did you think of that?" "Best steak I have ever tasted. It's a pity I am a vegetarian." There was a shocked silence followed swiftly by laughter when I grinned and told them it was a joke. The English sense of humour is something the Americans don't always understand. Actually our European partners don't understand our humour either. But they are strange anyway. Kent and Amelie lived in Saugus which has a history as old as America, being one of the first places settled. I remarked to Kent when he showed me around that many of the historic buildings were very similar to those in the county of Kent in England. "You're kidding." He was astonished. "Yes. Your forebears would be quite at home in them." Kent had taken some comp time from work and assured me that he would take me round to see everything, and that on Saturday we were going to the Football to watch the Boston College Eagles. I was astounded that the whole family would be coming. I asked Kent if that was sensible as in the UK it wouldn't be safe to take wives and children to a football match. "Sure it's ok. It's a great family day. Why shouldn't it be safe?" I had to explain that at football matches and to some extent Rugby matches there was quite an rowdy element and even violence at times. He was shocked. "You Brits get me. You tell us that you are civilised and now you're saying that it's like a war at your football stadiums." "Not a war, Kent. But it can get ugly at times." "Jeez! What's the matter with you guys?" The Football match was an eye-opener. Not because of the fans, Kent had prepared me for those and he was right, it was a day for all the family. Neither was it because of the superb Alumni Stadium or the very athletic and lovely cheerleaders exhorting the fans to support their team, it was the actual game. Like many around the world whose only knowledge came from short clips on news programs, my perceptions of American football were of armoured giants slugging it out on a pitch. Now watching the game and listening to Kent explain what was going on I suffered my own Damascene conversion to the view that this was as much a cerebral contest with strategy and tactics allied to strength producing a winning combination. Yes, the linemen and the linebackers had to be strong but just as important as their strength there was guile, particularly in the person of the quarterback. This was a game of physical fitness, tactics, deception, bluff and counter-bluff. Once I understood that I became as enthusiastic as Kent. I loved the game! Amelie was very keen to discover my love life and I showed her the photo of Antonia and I together that I carried in my wallet. It had been taken by one of the photo touts on the Embankment who had recognised Antonia and insisted on taking the picture with the Thames as backdrop. He may have tried to sell the photo to one of the tabloids, but I didn't hear of it so he may have been unlucky. Amelie perused it carefully. "She's real pretty, and you say you are getting married?" "Yes. Quite soon." "She looks to have the build and posture of a dancer." Amelie observed. "You're right. She's a ballerina. Actually she's over here at the moment, touring with her company." Amelie looked up sharply when I said that. "You're kidding us. Would that be the Ballet Company D'Anglais? They were here in Boston a short while ago." "Yes. I think that was one of their bookings." "And could Antonia also be known as Toni." I nodded. "Toni Berwick?" She pronounced the name Burr-wick. I nodded again. "That's her professional name." "We saw her;" Amelie exclaimed, "they did three performances here in Boston." She immediately picked up the phone and pressed a speed dial number. "Maxine, it's Amelie." I had met Maxine, she was Kent's sister. "You will just not believe this. You remember the principle dancer in Swan Lake? Yes that's the one, Toni Burr-wick. Well your cousin Simon, who it turns out is a very dark horse, knows Toni very well, probably extremely well and what is more they are getting married soon. Now what do you say about that?" Amelie was quiet but I could hear the babble of excitement coming from the other end of the phone. Amelie put her hand over the mouthpiece and asked me. "When?" "Not decided yet but I suspect it will be sometime later this year." Amelie nodded and turned back to the phone. "Sometime this year he reckons." She listened for a moment then said. "I agree. Talk to you later, Maxine." She put the phone down. "Simon, if you don't send us an invitation to your wedding we will be very upset with you. Kent! You have been saying for years we should go to England to find your relatives and then you keep putting it off to next year. Well now we have a damn good reason to go, and you won't have to go looking for your relatives, they'll all be there at Simon's wedding." Kent held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to argue, Sugar. I know a 'honey do' when I hear one. Anyway I am looking forward to meeting this girl of Simon's. She's a doll!" The look that Amelie gave him could have withered a Cactus. CHAPTER SEVEN I flew out of Logan and American Airways delivered me in Denver four and a half hours later. In no time I was checking in to the conference centre Hotel. Henry had asked to be informed when I arrived and the receptionist passed me his message. "Sir Henry asks if you would visit with him in his suite when you'all have got settled." My room was fully equipped with everything including a fantastic view of the Rocky Mountains which stopped me in my tracks. I must have stood looking at that fabulous scenery for five or more minutes. Henry's suite was overwhelming, but then it would be as Henry never travelled anywhere unless it was first class. I could not begrudge him this opulence though. My account was being picked up by the Foundation. Henry paid for himself. He didn't think it right to charge that which he could easily cover from his own funds. "Simon." He welcomed me. "Good flight? And how were your relatives in Boston?" "Thank you, Henry. The flight was good and my cousins in Boston treated me to a slice of American life, which I thoroughly enjoyed." "Good, good." He murmured as he poured coffee. We sat down. "Simon apart from anything else the reason I wanted you here was to meet Professor Hartington from the Burgoyne Institute. His team are looking in a different direction to you, but have noticed some reactive potential that could be of interest to you. It may be another blind alley or possibly..." He left it hanging in the air. This was the way of research. The Burgoyne like us was a non-profit operation, funded by grants from medical charities and donations from the public. We would share information with others if it would help their research and vice versa. Anything we discovered was freely published for Drug Companies to pick up and develop. Theirs was the major investment as synthesising an agent into a drug, then trialling and getting the relevant national bodies to accept the drug as safe was a long and very expensive process "I would be happy to talk with them, Henry. Is there any area where you would not want me to discuss?" "No." He shook his head. "Feel free to cover anything that may come up with them. I would caution you that there are some representatives of Drug Companies here. Much as we would like their money, what we discover is freely available to all. We will not accept patronage which involves exclusivity." "Understood, Henry." The first two days of the meeting was intensive. This wasn't a conference nor seminar really. No one was giving speeches or tutorials. It was just an opportunity for researchers to get together and discuss ideas and projects. For most of our time we tended to live in a sheltered atmosphere, these gatherings helped us realise that the problems that beset us, beset others as well. I met Professor Hartington and his lead researcher, John Garrow. We got on very well and the information they were pleased to reveal would indeed be very useful. I was happy as I could return their help with some facts and results I had discovered that would be of assistance to them. I promised to email the full data when I was back in London. Professor Hartington, "call me Jake," he insisted, had brought along a friend. He was introduced as Richard Easton. Another Easton! We took some time trying to find out if we were related, but eventually having discovered no relatives in common decided that it was just a co-incidence. I asked him what area of research he was interested in. "Golf." He replied. "Same as Jake. I am no medical man at all. Jake coming was an excellent opportunity to introduce him to some of the more difficult courses here in Denver. So I am really an interloper. I'm an attorney by trade." I found out later he was a top man in one of the most prestigious practices in Denver. So much for an attorney by trade. Jake suggested that he and Richard would slide away for the afternoon and hit a few balls. "Well Richard will slice them if he's on form." "That's slander, Jake. Don't forget I'm an attorney." "Yeah, I remember, and a lousy golfer." Before they left Jake insisted that we had dinner together that evening. "Let's say six-thirty in the Grill." John Garrow and I had a good conversation and then split up to talk to other people, agreeing to meet later over coffee. I met a number of people I knew or had spoken with at some time or other and picked up some interesting data that could be of use to the Foundation. Allie's American Grille was very busy when Henry and I arrived. Jake had reserved a table and stood up and waved. We made our way to them weaving between the other tables and sat down thankfully as it had been a tiring day. I was pleased to see that John Garrow had joined us. Henry as usual started the conversation. "So, how did your round go?" He asked. "Will you be looking for a collection to cover the cost of your lost balls?" That brought a laugh from all of us and Richard grinned. "Well, Jake may. He tried to play his round mostly under water." "I have never played a course with so many water hazards." Jake replied ruefully. "But at least I didn't take five to get out of a sand-trap." That set the tone for the first part of the evening. I was asked about my relations in Boston and told them of my visit to watch the Boston Eagles. This brought about a discussion on the relative merits of American Football and rugby. Two Englishmen and three Americans, we weren't going to win. In that jesting discussion my rugby playing was mentioned. "You actually play that girly game?" Richard teased me. "I did play at Cambridge." "You were at Cambridge?" Jake seemed impressed "Yes." "So why are you slumming with Henry here." He quipped. "I take umbrage at that slur." Laughed Henry. "How can it be slumming when it is I who have introduced him to you?" "Good point." Said Richard. "Attorneys like to pose questions like that. It's a question that rattles a witness when you can't break them down, because there is no correct answer." For some time we had been hearing a loud voice from a table near us. I thought I knew the voice but couldn't place it, however Richard could. "For Chrissake! It's that asshole, Cummings." That was all I needed to place the voice, Edgerton Cummings." "You know him?" I enquired of Richard. "Yeah. Not as a friend mind. He should be in jail, but the judge accepted a plea. I wonder what scam he's up to now." I turned but with the restaurant being so crowded I couldn't see very well. I had my back to them but Jake and Richard were facing the other table and had a better view. "That little lady doesn't seem too keen to be there." Observed Jake. "I'm not surprised." Richard remarked. "Cummings has a very dubious reputation with women." I kept turning around to see, but other patrons were always blocking my view. Eventually Jake mentioned that she was getting up. "Probably going to the Rest room." I turned then and saw who it was. It remarkable how the mind plays tricks. The lady looked just like Antonia, but as she was in San Francisco it couldn't be. Then I froze. It was Antonia! "That's Antonia." I got up abruptly, tipping my chair backwards in the process. Richard got up as well and put his hand on my arm. "Simon you look fired up about something. Calm down. What's got you riled up?" I quickly explained why I was surprised and then mentioned what had happened in London. "I see." He said when he understood why I was upset. "Now Simon, I don't know how you would handle this in England, but you're in the States now and as an Officer of the Court I am not going to allow you to get into trouble, the last thing I want to do is post bail for you if you cause a ruckus. I suggest that you go and see to your lady friend and I will wander over and see if I can find out what Cummings is up to. Ok?" "I'll come with you." I wanted to confront Cummings as I was certain that he was up to no good. "No you will not, Simon. Your priority is looking after that lady of yours. You do not know that anything underhand is going on. If there is we will nip it in the bud." Reluctantly I did as he suggested and Henry came with me. Possibly to make sure I behaved myself. As we walked into the lobby area he suddenly caught my arm. "There's Ballinger. I'll go and have a word with him and you find Miss Berwick." I looked around and saw Mr. Ballinger, a very harassed man if ever there was. He was trying to organise some of his dancers presumably to get into the Grill. I was at first surprised that Henry knew Mr. Ballinger, but soon realised that Henry would have talked to Ballinger before the Gala. I saw Antonia come out of the rest room, Instead of making her way back to the Grill she headed towards the lifts. "Antonia." I called. "Antonia." I quickened my walk. She looked round to see who was calling and saw me. She went from a standstill to full run in less than half a second. I braced myself as from three feet away she launched herself into my arms. I held her close as she shook. Then we both spoke and asked the same question. "What are you doing here?" "I'm where I am supposed to be." I answered first. "In Denver." "No. This is Dallas, surely." "Who told you that?" "That's supposed to be the next venue on our tour. We performed yesterday evening and went straight to the airport. We got here in the early hours of this morning; I have slept most of today. I just assumed that this was Dallas. "Well my gorgeous ballerina this is Denver and however you got here I am so happy to see you." "When you called my name it could only be you and my heart jumped. I was so frightened. That man Edgerton Cummings is organising the tour and the whole thing is a disaster. Then he insisted I join him for dinner and he was objectionable. I was going to my room to get away from him, and then I heard you. My knight coming to the rescue again." She stopped for a moment. "So where's my kiss?" She demanded. I bent my head and our lips joined. I couldn't care less about the many people in the lobby who saw us; Antonia's lips were a powerful argument. We broke as the sound of clapping reminded us of where we were. Henry and Mr. Ballinger led the clapping. Red-faced I apologised. "Oh don't apologise, dear boy." Henry grinned. "It's good to let these colonials know that we English are not cold and standoffish all the time." "I would be careful of referring to the Americans as colonials, Sir Henry." Mr. Ballinger interjected. "I spoke in jest, Ballinger. Our cousins do understand our deprecating humour." The smile vanished from Henry's face. "Simon. I think Mr. Ballinger needs to have a chat with Miss Berwick. It would seem that all is not well with this tour." CHAPTER EIGHT Authors note: The word hooker refers to a position in Rugby Union, i.e. the player in the scrum who should hook the ball with his heel to gain possession. It does not refer to a lady who is very generous with her charms for financial gain. Antonia went with Mr. Ballinger who had called a meeting of the company. She told me later that the venue Cummings had booked in Denver, which was not part of the original tour plan, was totally inadequate. If it had been the Ellie Caukins Opera House it would have been a perfect venue, it wasn't. The theatre he booked was completely unsuitable. The stage did not have a proper floor for ballet, nor was it big enough. "Does that matter so much?" I queried. "Yes. For a start we couldn't get the whole corps de ballet on the stage at the same time, and second in one passage I have to do a series of pirouettes across the stage from back right to front left. I do fifteen pirouettes in time with the music. On that stage I would have managed ten and then on eleven would have fallen off into the orchestra pit. We could have re-arranged the choreography but we can't edit Tchaikovsky's score." Whatever problems the theatre posed it was not as much a problem as the company's costumes, which had been air-freighted to Dallas! There were many other problems, the hotel situation I knew about, but it would also appear that insufficient time for rehearsal was not given at venues. They needed at least two days rehearsal time to get the choreography right for the stage and back stage also for their musical director to rehearse the orchestra. At some places Cummings had only booked time for the performances. All in all it was a disaster. Ballinger had enough and had told Cummings that he was cancelling the rest of the tour. Cummings threatened to sue unless Ballinger completed the tour. Pas De Deux written as that dance in particular was just so sizzling and their overall chemistry through the season was a delight to watch, even if I'm technically late to the party but this is better than never. And yes, respective spouses conveniently hand-waved away for this one. No disrespect is meant to them at all, just had to be done. In other words, "It's just a fic, you should really just relax." *** If one were to ask Andy exactly how he ended up in this position- the position being perched on the edge of this bed with Allison half-writhing in his lap and staring intently- he would honestly have no good recollection. All his brainpower right now seemed to be focused on the gorgeous body in front of him. Her tall boots and dramatically-caped jacket had already been discarded, leaving her in just the black bodysuit hugging her curves. Shit, should he even be thinking that? She laid her hands on his chest and smiled broadly. "I knew you could do it, babe," she cooed, actually cooed. "Intense, aggressive-" "And bad-ass," came out when he could actually speak, goofy as it sounded to his ears. Allison laughed sweetly and pecked his cheek like she was wont to do after a show done well. "You bet, totally bad-ass." She rest her head on his shoulder, pressing her body close as possible, and Andy instinctively snuggled his arms around. "Seeing this side of you come to life...I feel so much more..." "More..." he prompted, using all his willpower not to caress the slender lines of her back. "Closer." She murmured her confession into his neck. "I haven't felt this close to a man since- a long time." Andy could count all the times she'd made reference to Weslie's father to him on maybe one hand. As far as he was aware of the situation wasn't abusive, the two just drifted apart, which was still rather sad. There was no doubt Allison was a loving mother, but being single could make for some lonely nights- something he knew all too well. "That sounds silly, doesn't it?" she asked when she pulled back to look eye to eye at him. Thankfully his heart didn't break at that question. "Not at all." He moved to cup a hand under her chin, slowly in case she needed to jerk away, but she stayed still. The tension that seemed to have been simmering between them for weeks- sweat and effort and closeness of bodies- hung in the air. Andy took a deep breath and the chance to ask, "Can I kiss you?" After what felt like an eternity, she whispered "Please," and licked her lips. The only word he needed. He moved closer to seal his mouth over Allison's, and her immediate sigh of contact breathed warm breath into him like a kiss of life. Lips teased and suckled around each other with soft sounds and moans. Oh, she was delicious- "Mmm..." Allison pressed deeply against his lap, and even in his snug dance pants Andy felt an unmistakable hard-on grow. So many parts of his body were aching for contact- was she just as soft and delectable everywhere? Image after image tumbled behind his closed eyes and he didn't bother to stop them. He soon broke the kiss and touched their foreheads together, watching her quietly panting. Beautiful. "I wanna make you feel good," his voice was a low rumble. She deserved whatever pleasure and comfort she wanted, and giving that to her would be good for him as well. The tension had already melted away, anything was possible now. Allison nodded and kissed a line down his nose. "Want you..." He had no answers or other questions, he had no words at all. His whole mind was a jumble of yes yes please. First things first. He settled a hand on her hair to feel for every bobby pin and untie the elastic holding the bun together until her natural tendrils fell loose around her face. He threaded his fingers into the silky waves and resumed kissing, even meeting her writhing with some grinding of his own. All of that for her and because of her. "Ahh-" Allison gripped the back of his jacket collar like she could fly away otherwise. "Hands..." Oh, these hands could do plenty. Andy smiled against her skin and felt for the bodysuit's zipper to gently tug down. Inch by inch the material fell away until her pert breasts and trim stomach were exposed, and he noticed a faint red flushing in the valley between them when she shivered. "Cold, hon?" he asked and pulled her close just as much for warmth as to feel the nudge of her breasts against his heart. She shook her head and kissed his top lip. "All good shakes. Don't stop now." Oh you bet he wouldn't. Slowly he rolled over so Allison laid against the mattress and watched her raise her arms with a languid and pretty smile. He pulled the rest of the bodysuit down to show her only other adornment being the simplest pair of small black panties that stood out against her light golden skin. In this moment Andy felt he was looking at perfection as warmth radiated from head to toe. This felt right, this was a good thing; two people who cared about each other sharing a moment to chase the demons away. Allison bit her bottom lip and wriggled her hips, a playful 'show me what you got' movement. He cupped a hand between her legs and they both sighed at the hot and damp contact. "Oh, sweetheart, what I am gonna do with you all wet like this, hmm?" The sly grin that had made many a fan swoon now crossed his face just for her as he tugged the garment down and away, a grin that widened when he noticed a neat and trim strip of hair that was no doubt made to accommodate the skimpiest of costumes. Even if he was a hound for thinking so, jackpot. "Such a guy," she teased and beckoned while opening her legs. "All yours." All his to play with and show her what pleasure could feel like- Andy laid flat for his face to be barely an inch from this beauty and get a closer look at nether lips that were a deep pink of lust. Right now that was his favorite color in the world. "Mmm..." He breathed over her hot skin and carefully opened her lips, silkened as flower petals. Her clit came into view sitting there so round and pink and sweet, he couldn't resist giving it a kiss. "Ooh!" Allison pursed her mouth and laid a hand on Andy's hair, definitely intent on keeping his head where it belonged. "Just like that, babe..." Oh, he had more tricks where that came from. He gave two fingers a liberal lick and slowly pushed them inside her, arousal hitting his full peak when she reacted "What- oh my god, ohhhh!" All her words were beautiful in their uninhibited incoherence. Once his fingers were in deeply as they could go, he let them still for a moment so he and her could both let the sensations sink in. Her pussy was soft and warm like being encased in velvet, with the added wetness of her arousal. It was paradise. Slowly he curled the tips to stroke along her sensitive walls while his tongue continued to lavish attention on the sweet cut ruby of her clit. "Ahhh-" He lifted his gaze to watch Allison grip the sheets and slightly stutter her hips. Her pleasure was truly poetry in motion. "Mmm..." With a teasing smirk, Andy straightened his fingers and began smoothly thrusting them in and out, slow enough not to hurt but deep enough to make it all too clear what he was mimicking. He knew he was hitting Allison's spot most of the time as he was rewarded with her shallow breaths, pink-flushed face, and more flowing of her warm juices that he dutifully lapped up. He could drink from her oasis and stay sated for ages. "So wet for me, sweet Alli..." Experimentally he opened and closed his fingers in a scissoring motion and heard a soft noise from within. So sexy. "Oh...ah yeah..." Allison had lolled her head to one side, eyes shut in bliss, and her chest and stomach gently rolled with her breathing. "Babe...faster...please..." Hell yeah. Andy let his fingers pick up the pace and his lips sealed over her clit for a gentle suction that still left it pulsating. Her body heat seemed to flow right into him that he could feel on his face. Their moans and the wet sounds of her pussy overlapped with each other to make erotic music that filled the air for a long period. "Mmmnngh!-" Allison rolled her head back and her lower body shivered and shook. Let go, babygirl. It's all right, Andy mentally willed and massaged a gentle circle inside her. As if hearing him she raised her hips with a high-pitched cry as sweet as the release he felt flood over his fingers and mouth. He sighed in satisfaction and soothed his tongue everywhere to clean her off, turned on even more by her breathy whimpers. "Oh...ooh..." Oh she was perfect, delicious and loving. Andy slid his fingers away to lick them clean, then crawled back up on the mattress to pull Allison's warm body into his hold. She rest her head and a splayed hand on his chest while her breathing was making its way back down to normal, and he could hear the settling rhythm of her heartbeat. Sounded just like his. He kissed her hair in adoration and praise and stayed silent in his embrace. "Oh..." Eventually Allison relaxed and she opened her eyes to look up at him with a small but happy smile. "Good?" he grinned. "'maaazing." She stretched out her arms and legs like a contented house cat and cradled Andy's face to kiss his jaw. "Thank you, babe." "Deserved t'feel good," he murmured and slid his hands to the small of her back to cup smooth muscle. "So sweet, so pretty..." "Mmm-" Allison rolled her hips to be grinding against him again, and a sly smile touched her face in recall. "Kind of unfair, though..." "Unfair?" "Because you're still dressed." She spread her hands on his chest again to push him flat against the mattress, straddling his hips with her hair hanging over each side of his face. Oh. Oh, he could dig this all right. He matched her smile and tucked a strand of hair behind an ear, even if some of it fell forward again. "You alright to-?" "Uh-huh." She leaned down to tenderly kiss his mouth, then moved his arms up so she could peel his jacket and shirt away. Andy lay back, content to let her take the reigns for this round and to continue being her pleasure toy. Once his lean chest was bare, Allison peppered it with kisses and loving nuzzles. "Mmm, so handsome." Andy chuckled from both the contact and compliment and settled his hands behind his head. "Yep, I was just a skinny little twig a few weeks ago," he teased. She pressed a cheek to his chest so he could see her open smile and the tip of her tongue glide along his skin. "Always handsome." So sweet. He puckered a playful kiss and watched Allison sit up to strip down the rest of his clothes. She pulled his belt from the loops with the slow care and tease of a burlesque dancer taking her time to remove a glove and still looking amazing doing it. "Mmm..." She cupped between his legs to rub deeply, and the erection that had been kept at bay for a while returned at full force. Andy bit his lip and rolled his head back with a groan much like she had as the thrill sensation shot right through him from dick to brain. Through his blissful haze he could just barely hear her ask, so playfully innocent and cute, "Ohh, is this all mine?" Thankfully a "yes" instead of anything awkward-sounding came out when he was able to speak. Wordlessly she finished disrobing him and soon he felt a soft and cool hand grip around his shaft, which just made him groan even louder. She was truly bewitching... When Andy rolled his head forward again, he saw Allison had raised her bottom and spread her legs, hovering over him as if getting ready to...oh, yes. He licked his lips in desire and reached to hold her shoulders, not pushing her down but keeping contact. This was all about her- "Such a good man," her praise was simple and sweet, and slowly she began the descent onto his ever-ready cock. Andy was torn between keeping his focus on her face or her body, but when the tip disappeared between her nether lips with slick noises and a sigh, he had to look down to see the erotic beauty in action. Yes, they fit together perfectly, the final barrier between them had broken and it felt so damn good. When Allison softly groaned, he looked to her face to see her eyes shut, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly opened, lost in her own bliss as she continued to sink. "That's right, babygirl, lemme fill you," he whispered, cut off by another bit lip and groan when the pleasantly confining wetness of her pussy walls gripped around him. The heat on his face manifested into small sweat beads on his skin and he welcomed them. "Yeah..." Once Allison was lowered enough she didn't need to grip, she cupped Andy's face again and leaned for their foreheads to touch. His gaze stayed directly in her beautiful eyes just like they'd look at each other on the dance floor, but of course a whole other kind of intimacy. Add to that his rushing heartbeat- "Having fun?" she asked cutely and clenched her muscles again before he had a chance to answer. Oh, fuck, yes, fit like a velvet glove. He stuttered his breaths and blindly in his rapture haze felt his way to hold at her just-right breasts, thumbs caressing her firm nipples. So much sweat on her skin she was wet inside and out. "Unh...yeah..." he breathed and arched his hips so she could keep on feeling him. "Mmm...good...ooh, love those big hands, babe..." He felt Allison's tongue glide along his mouth and wordlessly he opened to accept. Heated and slick, tongues lapped and tasted around each other as Allison started a quick rhythm of riding and rolling on him, pantings and groans punctuating every thrust. "Ahh-" Andy slid his sweated hands around to feel all her curves he could reach, from her long legs and powerful thighs to how her stomach muscles dipped in and out. Every inch was perfection... He pressed a thumb on her clit that had to be super-sensitive by now with the squeal of pleasure she released. "Mmm, more," she pleaded with wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and rolling her hips in a figure-eight. Yeah. He took Allison's bottom lip in his teeth and kept on pressing, working out a rhythm of touching every time her mound pushed out to meet his hand. They moved together with flowing grace, fervid passion, and the friction of skin on skin. Soon enough she cried out in a second orgasm, not as wet as the first but her pussy tightening enough for Andy to lose control and hit a high note of his own. His vision blurred and chest ached in the best kind of pain as he held to Allison's hips while releasing hotly inside her. If this was intense enough he could never think coherently again it'd be worth it. He fell back against the mattress hyperventilating when he finished, and with a final wet sound and sigh Allison slowly pulled off to curl in beside him. Kisses lovingly smattered in the crook of his neck and he felt around to drape an arm about her waist. His brain was a happy fuzz and he relished it. Yep, this was a good thing. "Hmm-" she kissed each side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "Y'ok, babe?" "Mmf...yeah." Andy wiped sweat from his face to focus and saw Allison still smiling. "You're beautiful," came out more timid than he intended in his post-orgasm bliss but he meant it. Fortunately Allison didn't laugh aloud if she found it funny. "So are you," she playfully grabbed his chin and pressed a wet kiss dead-center that made his heart quicken again. "Thank you for knowing what we both needed." Andy grinned dizzily and traced a line down her stomach. "Should we go clean up?" Even if his limbs did feel too wobbly to function more right now. She must have felt the same, as she answered, "Little later." Her mouth craned to his ear to add in a seductive whisper, "And you can use those fingers again when we do." Oh, hell, she'd learned his weakness quickly. His face reddened at the pleasant mental image but he still smiled and nuzzled his cheek by hers. "Totally taking you up on that offer, sweet Alli." Pas de Deux Ch. 01 This is the first chapter of a story for which my earlier submission 'Romeo and Juliet, a ballerina deflowered' can be read as the prologue. "You really make me sick!" With that she roughly grabbed me by the throat and slammed me hard against the wall. The impact of my back against the brick winded me but before I could even attempt a breath I felt a hard stinging blow to the side of my face. This double assault immediately caused my eyes to prick with tears and as I attempted to focus, all I could discern was the blurred shape of my lover running from the studio. Tentatively a few of the other dancers came to my aid and helped me to my feet. The ballet master was livid and as soon as I had recovered a few short breaths he simply gestured for me to leave the class. I really can't recall the details of how I negotiated the corridors to arrive at the changing rooms. All I can recall is that as soon as I had dropped my bag before my locker I collapsed with a pain that made all physical pain trivial. Not only had I been so humiliated before the company and lord, the way that dancers can bitch this would only be the beginning but more grievously I had humiliated her. The awful nausea of this realisation propelled me to a shower cubicle wherein I turned the taps on full blast and hid beneath a curtain of water and sobbed as if I were crying shards of glass. In the midst of this feeling of complete collapse the discipline of the dancer began to assert itself. I knew that the class would be finished in just under an hour and there was no way that I was going to hang around to face the gently thrilled inquisitions of my colleagues. I turned off the taps and tried to regain my composure. There I was like a drenched cat still clothed in my leotard, tights and pointe shoes which were now irredeemably ruined and would no doubt earn me a prissy rebuke from one of the queens in wardrobe. But to begin at the beginning... It was a rare Saturday night in which I didn't have to dance. I loved nights like that. It meant that I could stay at home put the place in order and then cook something for her so that it would be ready when she had finished her performance. I had just that year been accepted into the corps de ballet of the company in which she was now a principal. She had been my mentor while I was a student and was my first heart throbbing, belly dropping, leg shaking love. I didn't think then and I'm not sure now that anyone could have possibly been happier. Our first year together was characterised by an erotic heat that would leave us dazed and exhausted. She was a deliciously mischievous and demanding lover and more than anything when I lay in her arms after she had extracted from me pleasures that left me hoarse and limp, I would instantly rally as she murmured in my ear that I was her secret wife. Her secret wife. Its not as if in the world of ballet a homosexual alliance would succeed in raising an eyebrow nor did we feel any compunction to be particularly closeted. It was just that this whispered endearment excited in me a submissive ardour and confirmed me in my willing submission to her and her happiness. Actually one time we went to an S and M club to explore this latent aspect of mine. Beneath our overcoats she was stunning in a black latex cat suit, a Eurasian panther while I was trussed in virginal white lace stockings, shockingly brief tight white shorts that hugged my cleft, ballet flats and a leash we picked up in a pet store. We checked in our coats but apart from our outfits it was obvious that we had no idea what we were doing. Neither of us could successfully suppress our giggles and it was clear that the initial lustful interest that our fellow patrons had expressed was quickly turning to irritation at our antics. We left the club somewhat shamefaced but not before I had been shocked into momentary sobriety by witnessing in one of the 'dungeons' my very first fisting. Natasha tugged at my leash and we quickly decamped to our apartment where we spent the night howling with laughter as we took turns yelling at each other to "suck this bitch" and "please mistress, not in my pooh pooh hole". However the memory of the 'dungeon' still appalled and excited me and it was something that lingered vaguely in my memory as I finished preparing her dinner and changed in anticipation of her arrival. What ever I chose to wear I knew I wouldn't be wearing it long. She arrived home and I rushed into her arms. Even after a year her beauty could still disorient me. She pulled me close in a cheerful embrace and held me tight while I buried my head in the crook of her neck while she caressed the back of my head and giggled over my enthusiasm for her. We chatted and I sat by her while she ate. "Have you been in my wardrobe?" she asked. "I may have been, why?" "Are they my fishnets?" "I'm not sure, they could be I didn't really check." She insinuated her hand beneath the hem of my short plaid skirt and ran her hand up my inner thigh to stop just at my sex. "They are mine!" "How can you be so sure?" I protested. "Because you ripped out the crotch the last time I was wearing them." With that she playfully flicked her fingers against my dampening sex. I shivered with her touch. She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip while winking at me. I leant forward for a kiss and drank the wine from her lips. Her hand still nestled under my skirt, with a little pressure she made me stand and drew me close. She lifted my skirt and gazed at my cunt. "Ohh Lindsay, what am I to do with you?" She pulled me even closer so that she could kiss me on my now revealed and glistening lips. I clutched her head closer to me as she stooped a little further down to allow her tongue to trace the outside of my labia and to playfully stab at my entrance. "Take me to bed." I whispered. Having stripped me of my skirt she lay me on the bed belly down and knelt between my legs. In any long relationship there are certain routines of love making that can either dull the event or enhance it. This was one of my favourites. Belly down and my bottom exposed to her gaze I waited for the feel of her warm breath which would herald the exquisite dexterity of her tongue as it rimmed the outline of my anus and travelled the sensitive furrow from cheeks to cunt. I raised my bottom a little to allow her better access, Reaching under me she used both hands to rip my fishnet tights to the point that nothing could impede her explorations. This act of petty violence coaxed from me a deep groan of pleasure; again my mistress' plaything, again to be her object and her toy. Her hands on either side of my hips she me pulled up so that I was on all fours and with that she stretched my cheeks open and began her exploration of me with her tongue. Circling my anus, probing it, teasing me to such a desire for penetration. A desire that it would always be her tongue, always be her fingers, that it would always be her. She ran a hand under my belly, reaching up to my breasts. I smiled to think that once I had been self conscious of my breasts because of their lack of size. But Natasha had always taken such pleasure from them that embarrassment was banished and because she thought them beautiful I had begun to think them beautiful as well. The simple proximity of her hand to my breasts was always enough to bring my nipples to erection as if each pore of my skin, each organ of my body was ever jealous of her attention. As her tongue probed me her hand traced the small globe of my breast, brushing my nipple with the tips of her fingers and beginning a gentle tweaking. Now greedy I wanted the impossible; both her tongue deep inside my rectum and her mouth suckling at my breast. "Enter me baby, enter me." I murmured. With that I felt her tongue spear me deep. Removing her hand from my breast she trailed it down to circle my saturated cunt. Running her fingers over the groove of my sex while her tongue pushed deep into my anus. Her finger tips found my engorged clitoris and brought their delicious pressure to bear. I was now rocking on my hands and knees as the tension of my climax began its inexorable crescendo. Ever sensitive to my growing state she parted my lips and easily slipped in two fingers. She opened her fingers inside me stretching my vagina. I felt so particularly open and filled. With her free hand she played hard against my clitoris. This new force of love elicited a profound exhalation of pleasure from me as the rapid darting of her tongue in my rectum, her forceful opening of my cunt and the precision of pressure against my clitoris elicited contraction after contraction of pleasure. The tidal surge of my climax had me shouting her name as I felt the juices that she had extracted from me trickle down the inside of my thighs. I collapsed face down and felt her lay on top of me. Biting into my neck while whispering the most magnificent endearments. She rolled me towards her and I clung to her my legs wrapped around her. My favourite position, my head buried in the crook of her neck comforted again by her love and her subtle aroma. "Oh Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay." She murmured. "My mistress." I murmured back. I lay there a little while curling her hair around my fingers. Perhaps I was a little selfish in that I could feel her carnal ache and yet I could do little but drowse in the aftermath of her assault. She peppered my face with kisses and straddled a leg over my thighs as she rolled me onto my back. Her cunt against my leg like a wet kiss. She rode me a little while, running her hands over my belly and my breasts. I reached down and insinuated my hand between her legs bringing a sweeter pressure to bare than my thigh alone. She lifted a little. A plea for me to continue my hands journey to encase her sex. As my fingers explored the folds of her lips and the equisite shell pink flesh that hid just inside her entrance I could again feel the thirst for her sex well in my throat. "Let me eat you." I whispered. "Oh please." She whispered back. We rolled again bringing her to rest on her back. I eased down the bed to revel in her cunt. I was addicted to her. On those nights or days when for whatever reason we could not be in each other's company and I was feeling particularly needy or alone all I had to do to calm myself would be to raid the laundry basket. I would steal back to my bed with a pair of her tights or leotard and inhale the delicious tendrils of her scent. Immediately a slow calm would envelop me as I enhaled deeply amongst the bunched garment. Shadows of her touch would soothe me and only then could I fall asleep. I awoke once to her bell like laughter as she had caught me asleep entwined in her tights. But the look of love that radiated from her eyes as it occurred to her just how much I was her thrall forced a great clutching spasm in my heart. And now here before her. The font of her essence. I could feel my mouth water in anticipation of that first savoury kiss. Softly with the pads of my fingers I circled her sex as I lazily drew my tongue around the contours of her cunt. I am not a naturally proud person but pride was all I could feel when my fingers and tongue played in the wetness of her excitement. Proud because it was me who had prompted this. My touch, my love. I could hold back no longer and ravenously clamped my mouth to her thrilling sex. Her groan of pleasure caressed me as I locked to her entrance and let my tongue play within the wet velvet of her cunt. My tongue deep within her, lapping at her. Drinking her. I introduced my finger and played inside her while my other hand ran along her flank, her belly and the contours of her breasts. She clutched at my hand and brought it to her breast. Holding it first hard against her heart and then guiding it to her nipple, willing me to take this other bud firmly between my fingers. I would dart inside her with my tongue and then slowly circle her clitoris, alternating this cycle in time with her sighs. She opened her legs a little wider her hands reaching down to play in the tresses of my hair. I placed my fingers on each side of her slick pink lips and parted her cunt just a little more to allow me a greater depth. Her breathing now was aroused and tense. I placed my hands against her thighs and opened them to their fullest extent. My nether lip worked against her perinium and the first tender opening of her cunt. My tongue plunging in her. My mouth was an undulating limpet against her. She started repeating my name as I slid two beautifully slick fingers into her. She jolted with their introduction and any shock she felt I soothed immediately by my lips playing softly on her bud. I loved the feel of her ring of muscle as it clutched at my exploring fingers. I would withdraw them completely and then bring them back in. She had started to rock a little now and held her legs in the air. The tension of her pose, a lover's request to bring a quick consumation. My little finger found a home in the clutch of her anus while with my other hand I played my fingers against the spongy nut of her g spot. She was ready now, so open to tongue and finger. I flattened my tongue and pressed it firmly against her exquisite clitoris. Pulsing my tongue against her I could feel the simultaneous contractions of her anus and cunt clutch against my fingers. Her legs again opened to their furtherest extent as if in the splits, her toes pointed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed violently through her. My heart pounded with each undulation of her climax. to be continued... Pas De Deux "How many like me has she conquered?" I pondered and stared hungrily at her crotch. Mild feelings of apprehension pervaded my mind but Courtney's gaze bored into my soul and my willpower evaporated like a morning mist on a hot day. I leaned into her pretty pussy and licked the center with agonizing slowness. "Umm...umm...oh...umm," I moaned my pleasure as the flavor ignited a firestorm in my loins. Courtney's raven colored pubes were soon coated with a mixture of her juices and my saliva. With her butt flexing languidly, the swollen juicy flesh rocked against my eager lips. Her dewy moisture oozed into my ravenous mouth and glazed the lining of my throat. "Ooh, I can see your no stranger to pussy!" she brayed as I wantonly mouthed the furry mound. I was so freakin hot for Courtney that I wanted to eat her pubes and lo and behold a few got stuck in my throat. My entire being was focused on giving the dark haired Lolita the ultimate licking. "Ooh baby!" she crowed when my tongue went into overdrive. In college, I feasted on a several pretty coeds but this was way beyond any previous experience. My psyche was consumed with a lust that completely overwhelmed me. "Hmm...umm...ooh...suck my juices!" she howled and bucked her luscious slice on my face. Little waves of hot secretions dampened my throat and I hungered for more, much more. Grasping her hot ass, I pulled the sopping flesh tight to my mouth and lightly lashed her nub sized clit. "Goddamn girl!" she bellowed and rode my tongue to a thunderous orgasm. Every time I swallowed Courtney's oozing fluids, the curly hairs stuck in my throat gave it a tickle. To me it was like a badge of honor and I willingly became her sex slave. Elise's prophesy was accurate; Courtney held complete sway over me. The new photos projected a provocative atmosphere with tender embraces and loving glances. But, the look of conquest on Courtney's face was clearly evident. Our posing sessions were excruciating for me because all I wanted was to please the sexy young goddess in my arms. In the privacy of Courtney's small apartment, I relentlessly feasted on her pussy and butt. However, Courtney was anything but a generous lover. One lazy afternoon as I slurped her slobbering slit, she languidly ate an apple, occasionally glancing down at me with a look of disdain. Elise was completing the second painting in the planned series of six when I decided that enough was enough. I confronted Courtney in her apartment and told her in no uncertain terms that I was done with the sexual aspect of our relationship. "I'll decide when it's over," she stated with frightening self assurance and leaned back on the sofa with legs spread. Somehow, I found the strength to turn around and walk out of her flat. But, by the next afternoon my resolve wilted and I was hungrily servicing her magnificent young pussy with reckless abandon. My entire world was turned inside out. At social functions with Craig, I successfully portrayed the smiling empty headed socialite wife with ease. In truth, my brain was on auto pilot because it was pre-occupied with thoughts of Courtney. An abject fear of discovery gripped me. Although, I hadn't signed a pre-nup, Craig's lawyer would have a field day with my alternative life style should it ever come to light. Except for sex, I played the dutiful wife role to the hilt. Lunch and shopping dates with the vapid girlfriends were severely curtailed because of my posing schedule. Many cell phone calls from Cleo went unanswered and finally I responded to an angry message. "Dahling, do I have some exotic disease? Because you've been avoiding me like the plague," she stated slyly. "Of course not Cleo," I said somewhat timidly. I agreed to meet Cleo for lunch at the same bistro in Tribeca where she propositioned me. While she chattered away, I drank my second glass of white wine with a troubled look on my face. "My dahling Mia, what on earth is the matter?" she asked with concern. Of all the empty headed rich women that I socialized with, Cleo was by far the most trustworthy; or so I thought. "I've met someone," I stated barely above a whisper. Cleo's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Dahling, you know how to shock the shit out of me! Who on earth is he?" She asked with eagerness. "Not he; she," I muttered with my head down. Cleo looked like she was ready to burst from my revelation. She sat in stunned silence as I meekly confessed my sexual liaison with a younger woman and nothing more. When I finished my tale, Cleo's eyes glittered with fascination and her entire demeanor changed. "Dahling, there is only one way to ensure my silence," she stated with light menace in her voice. Instantly, I understood her comment and agreed to spend the weekend at her beach house in Cape Cod. When I strolled out to the deck in my bikini, I thought Cleo's eyes would pop right out of her head. My tight, semi-muscular body was proudly on display for her appreciative eyes. "Dahling, you've been spending a lot of time at the gym. You look...well...incredible!" she gushed. I did a slow pirouette and struck a sexy pose. For the remainder of the afternoon, Cleo ogled my taut oiled bod. After a brief excursion into the cold water, my nipples hardened into little stones and were plainly visible through my top. Cleo's hungry stares dampened my pussy and bolstered my confidence. Courtney never showed one iota of sexual interest in me and to have someone desire me was repairing my ego. Quickly, I straddled Cleo's lounger and sat on my haunches between her legs. "Dahling, not out here, the neighbors will talk," she cooed sexily. In the privacy of her bedroom, Cleo took me into a realm of pleasure that I never knew existed. Her soft hands lovingly caressed my boobs and silky fingers expertly manipulated my protruding nipples. Little jolts and waves of scintillating pleasure bored into my needy slit as hungry lips attached themselves to a straining bud. Cleo's suckling had me gasping and groaning out loud. "Jesus Cleo! Umm...hmm...umm...ooh!" I crowed passionately and gazed intently as she skillfully sucked my aching tits. But, it was Cleo's appetite for pussy that shocked me. With her face nestled in my muff, she licked me with fervid intensity. My clit throbbed uncontrollably as her masterful tongue sent me into outer space. "Oh! Oh! Fuck!" I shrieked, panting like a mad woman. When a delicate finger, then two and three expertly probed my gooey gaping hole, I experienced the most intense orgasm of my young life. How Cleo maintained a hold on me, I'll never know as I thrashed around violently. "Dahling, you are an absolute wild woman!" she sang sexily. My body was alive with the afterglow of great sex. "My God Cleo, that was...umm...ah..." I stammered. While magnificent, incredible and awesome came to mind, I failed to articulate the adjective that best described the experience. For the remainder of the weekend, Cleo explored every orifice on my body. She had an arsenal of dildos and used them on me with the precision of an engineer. As she noisily sucked champagne from my tits and crotch, my virgin butt took a large flesh colored contraption with ease. By Sunday afternoon, I was sore but sexually satisfied beyond my wildest expectations. Clad only in a sheer bra and thong panties, I was packing for departure when Cleo entered my room with a glint in her eye. "Oh no, not again?" I questioned with disbelief. I sat upright on the edge of the bed with an anxious look on my face as Cleo lightly rubbed her cheeks and nose against my raw crotch. Although my slit was sensitive, it quivered and dampened the front of my panties. A musky fragrance rose from between my legs and sliced through the air. With delicacy but swiftness, Cleo relieved me of my undies and her long tongue slid gently over my folds and creases. Because of my sensitivity, she exercised the utmost care with her licking technique and soon my pussy was flooded with juice. "Umm...ooh...delicious..." she cooed rapturously. In the stillness of the room, Cleo's sucking and swallowing dominated my ears. "The girl loves pussy," I mused to myself. I forced Cleo to the floor and knelt over her. She had a surprised look when I lowered myself to her mouth and lightly rocked my pulsating slit on her needy lips. Cleo's delicate hands gripped my butt. "Ooh...umm...oof..." she moaned as her wiggling tongue traced lightening licks over my throbbing clit. Along the opposite wall a mirror gave testament to the debauched scene as I rode her pretty face to an explosive orgasm. On the way back to the city, I seriously contemplated my relationship with Courtney. She conquered the weak willed with ease and my only defense was to avoid her. In her presence, her power over me would melt any resolve I possessed. I informed Elise via email that I wasn't interested in continuing our professional liaison. When I heard nothing in the way of a reply, I relaxed but it was short lived. Courtney countered with several sweet and pleading responses that wilted my determined attitude. I resumed the posing schedule but curiously I kept my distance from Courtney by leaving immediately after. For two long months I posed naked with the object of my fantasies without any further physical contact. Just when I thought I had my "problem" under control, I invited Courtney and Elise to a dinner party at my co-op. Craig had no inkling of my daytime activities and I saw it as a test of my will power. During the evening, Courtney shot me smoldering stares that weakened my resolve. Mental images of me on my knees with her juicy wet pussy glued to my mouth dominated my thoughts. My snatch was dripping as I stealthily made my way to the master bathroom. With my skirt hiked up and panty hose around my ankles, I strummed my slit into a sloppy pulsing mess. I was close to orgasm when a sudden light knock made me jump. Slowly the door knob turned. "Shit! I forgot to lock the door! I shrieked silently. Hastily I pulled my panty hose up but the door opened a little and Courtney's visage was plainly visible. "Thinking of me?" she said with a saucy smile. "Well...er...ah..." I stuttered like a fool. The blood was pounding in my temples when my lust for Courtney's pussy took control of me. As she stood before me I practically ripped her jeans off. "Ooh...umm...oh!' she quietly cooed when I buried my face in her dark muff. Courtney changed positions with me and wrapped her legs behind my head. As I lapped her with intense licks, the oozing wet flesh attached to my lips rocked up and down. "Oh Mia, eat me baby!" she howled fervently when I attacked her clit. Courtney's head lolled back and forth as I noisily drained the creamy secretions from her engorged gash and lashed her completely exposed sensitive nubbin. Suddenly, Courtney arched her back and groaned loudly. "Ooh baby, I'm cumming!" she panted quietly. In less than five minutes, I had brought the raven haired beauty to a thunderous climax. Craig was sure to be suspicious of my absence and come looking. In total silence, we cleaned up and speedily exited the bathroom. Courtney's triumph over me was complete as my lust for her body continued unabated. On several occasions we never made it to her small apartment above the studio and the posing session ended with my face planted firmly between her thighs or butt cheeks. Elise would discreetly exit the studio but it was Tessa who took multiple rolls of film showing me servicing Courtney. Every conceivable angle was explored as I diligently slathered her pussy and butt. Despite my pleas to destroy the negatives, Tessa insisted the photos were safe with her. But, I knew better and less than a month later they appeared on the internet. Unbeknownst to me, after the dinner party, Craig had hired a private investigator because of Courtney's suspicious behavior towards me. One dreary December evening, he confronted me with the evidence, including the internet photos. Surprisingly, no cold words of retribution crossed Craig's lips; in fact he displayed little or no anger at all. I shed a few crocodile tears for effect and agreed to move out. Our marriage had grown stale and we both knew it. Thanks to Cleo and without any strings attached, I found a modest apartment in the west eighties, a huge step down from my Central Park co-op. Without Cleo's help I would have been homeless as I had no job and no visible means of support. Until, I received my divorce settlement, I was impoverished. Looking back, it was for the better. I had little or no sexual desire for Craig. The endless social events, parties, mindless shopping and class conscious phonies had taken its toll on me. Secretly, I wanted out and this was the ticket. Everyone abandoned me except for Cleo, Elise and Courtney. Surprisingly, Courtney was very sympathetic to my plight and her attitude towards me softened. I was no longer a socialite who needed conquering and debasement via sex. I was lunching with Cleo at a small café near my apartment, scanning the Times job section. "Here's one for a teachers aide. Oh shit, it only pays seventeen dollars an hour," I said disgustedly. Except for the pay I received from the posing sessions, I was cash poor. Cleo picked up the tab and ordered a coffee. "You don't miss it, do you dahling?" She said with some sympathy. "If you mean that phony baloney upper crust crap, no I don't. I have more designer shoes and clothes than any human being has a right to own," I stated assertively with disgust. "I remember how naïve' you were when I first met you," she said lightheartedly. "Cleo, how is it that you never got caught in an uncompromising situation?" I asked. "Discretion dahling, the utmost discretion at all times," she said wisely. I must have looked confused. "Dahling, I like my life with the phonies, the wealth and the parties. I pick and chose my sexual affairs very carefully. Oh, I'm sure Charles knows of my infidelity but it stays within our circle," she stated with conviction. My relationship with Courtney continued but instead of the lopsided one way sexual association, she was much more generous and giving. While I cherished my bi exploration with her, I started dating a guy she set me up with on a blind date. My modest divorce settlement was finalized and in spite of everyone's plea to "take him to the cleaners", I refused to be a Golddigger and air our dirty laundry in public. Anyway, my marriage was never about the money. The gallery was brightly lit and packed with guests for the unveiling of Elise's six painting series. The nudes of Courtney and me in various poses were a smashing success. The critics were unanimous in their admiration for her work. The paintings were purchased by a Connecticut businessman, who paid a hefty sum of money. Courtney and I shared in the profits rather handsomely. At least I had the means to continue living without someone coming to my rescue. When I met Elise to pick up my check, she had an amused expression on her face. "All this because you took a wrong turn on Bleeker Street," she stated wistfully. "Yeah, none of this would have happened but something had to give. I was genuinely unhappy," I said with complete honesty. "You found some happiness with us, didn't you?" Elise inquired imploringly. "More than you can possibly know," I said with a faraway look on my face.