Barely Yours (14 page)

“Cut it out, Chrissie! Where
are
you taking me?” Brian demands, like some bratty kid.

“Like I
said
,” I reply, “I’ll tell you when we get there, okay? It’s a surprise!”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “But did I ever tell you how much I hate surprises?’

But I just know he’s not gonna hate
this
surprise. Not when he gets there. Because I’m taking him to this super fancy brunch place that we’ve both read about. I know he’s dying to see what it’s like inside, and it’s the kind of place that’s normally totally outside our budgets. But today this is my treat. I know I’ve practically disappeared off the face of the earth over the last few weeks, and I’ve got some explaining to do.

Just a few more steps and we’re there. The door is small and unassuming, but I know the moment Brian reads the name, everything will fall into place.

“Oh my god!” he gasps. “The
Garden
? Are you kidding? Are we really going
here
? But I thought it took months to get a brunch reservation at the Garden?”

“I might have pulled a few strings,” I reply, mysteriously.

“Shut up,” he says, shaking his head in amazement. “Anyway, are we gonna like share a coffee and a tap water? Because you need serious cash to eat in a place like this.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “This one’s on me. I know you must have been wondering where the hell I’ve been recently, so we’ve got a lot to talk about and I figured, why not do it in style for once?”

“Oh Chrissie,” he says. “You are just too good to be true. Right, come on. Let’s get inside, quick. I want to see which celebrities are here this morning!”

Even though we’re only in West London, the whole place is done out like some amazing tropical paradise. There are ornate iron tables and chairs with crazy patterned cushions, and mirrors and plants everywhere you look. As we wait to be seated, I breathe in the heady scent of jasmine, my ears filling with the buzzing chatter from the tables nearby, and I’m so glad that I managed to get us a table at what is obviously the hottest place in town. Well, it was all Will of course. I couldn’t have done it without him.

We’re shown to our table and the service is so fast that within seconds, we’re both sipping on delicious mimosas, made with fine champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice.

“So then, missy,” Brian says, leaning his elbows on the table and fixing me in a mock-serious expression. “You’ve got a
lot
of explaining to do.”

“I know, I know,” I say, holding my hands up in defeat. “First of all, I guess I need to come clean immediately. Of course I fell for my gorgeous, hunky new boss.”

“I knew it!” he giggles.

“And I guess I’ve been kinda preoccupied, what with my new job and, uh, I suppose my
extra curricular activities
...”

Despite all of the things Will’s teaching me about my body, I guess I must be still something of a prude, because I can feel a blush creeping across my face as I coyly let Brian know that things have got serious.

“So
that’s
where you’ve been, this past month!” he says. “Well, I can’t blame you. If your description of him is accurate, then he sounds like your basic, perfect dreamboat.”

“Oh, he is, he really is,” I say, taking a small sip of my delicious mimosa and savouring it on my tongue for a second before launching into a monologue about all of the many ways Will’s been so perfect and amazing.

And when I’ve finally finished, Brian’s looking at me in total admiration.

“You are a marvel, Chrissie,” he grins. “I knew you had it in you to bag a rich, tall and handsome slice of perfection.”

“There is
one
thing, though,” I add with a sigh.

“Go on,” he says.

And I know there’s going to be no judgement.

“I guess it’s not so much about
him
exactly,” I say. “But I met his parents the other day ...”

I pause, not quite sure how to continue.

“And?” Brian says.

“Well, I guess seeing as Will kinda ambushed them with my presence, we were coming back from Paris (I’ll get to that later, by the way), and they were in the house when we got back. He hadn’t told them a thing about me, but it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that we’d just been away on a dirty weekend together. Will promised me that they’d be ‘perfectly English’ and polite, and they were. But his mom! A kiss on both cheeks,
how do you do, how charming
, that sort of thing.”

Brian laughs. “I know
exactly
the kind of woman you’re describing.”

“So, from the outside, and I think to Will, it looked like a perfectly pleasant if somewhat awkward introduction, but Brian, you should have seen the look she gave me, done in a way that only I could see. It was like shooting a piece of ice into my heart. I didn’t know that a single look could be quite so expressive, but all at once she said, silently,
I know your type, I know what you’re after, I hope you don’t think you’re good enough for my son, and I’m watching you.
Not to mention this bitchy little comment about my tattoo, dressed up like a compliment, but I knew
exactly
what she meant. That I was trash.”

“Ouch,” Brian says. “She sounds like hard work.”

Just then our avocado, feta, mint and quinoa breakfast wraps arrive, and I’m pleased for a short break in the conversation. I don’t want to think about Will’s mom while I eat.

The food is delicious, and I’m so pleased to have spent this morning with Brian. It’s been too long and I’d forgotten how good it feels just to get things off your chest with a friend. It’s not like I even wanted any advice about what to do with Mrs Cavendish, just to get it out in the open – to say out loud that there’s this woman and she was a total bitch to you.

“You need to relax and just enjoy this crazy beautiful situation that you’ve found yourself in,” says Brian. “Even if his mother
is
the wicked witch of the East, ha, that’s just one problem, right? It’s small fry. Most couples have to deal with shit way more complicated than
that
. In comparison to most people, your relationship is a walk in the park.”

I sigh again, because of course Mrs Cavendish
isn’t
my only problem.

“Actually?” I say. “I’m afraid it is a little bit more complicated than that.”

“What else?” he says.

“I’m on this stupid work visa, aren’t I?” I remind him. “It only lasts for twelve months, and I’ve already been here nine. So that means, I’ve only got three months to go.”

A serious look settles on his face. “Don’t remind me,” he says, quietly. “I was trying not to think about London without you in it, so much so that I’d actually managed to forget about it completely.”

“You and me both,” I sigh.

He pauses to think for a few seconds, before adding, “But what about Will? If he managed to bag us a table here on a Sunday morning, then surely he can work some magic with the department of immigration, right?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “You see, the thing is, I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

“About what?” he says.

“About my rapidly disappearing visa,” I explain. “It never came up when he asked me for the job and I guess the time’s just never been right.”

“Oh,
darling
,” Brian says, “You need to talk to him, because you’ve got some more explaining to do.”

Two Months Later ...

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that before! We haven’t done it in the
kitchen
yet. For the last two months, I’ve been enjoying this little game with Chrissie where we make love in the various rooms of the house – the more public, the better.

The library was a particularly exciting tryst.

And now, of course, the
kitchen
– this is going to be fun.

While Chrissie idly flicks through the Sunday Times, I mentally weigh up the possibilities, to work out whether or not I’m going to pounce on her. It’s Tabby’s weekend to see her grandparents, so no need to worry about her. And most of the staff don’t work weekends. And the only other live-in staff are Mr and Mrs O’Callaghan, the housekeeper and gardener, who live in the Granny flat annexe at the rear of the house.

I can hear the soft buzz of Mr O’Callaghan’s lawnmower in the garden but he almost never sets foot in the house. So apart from the thrilling random possibility of discovery, someone popping by, or the doorbell ringing, the coast is totally clear. It’s time to make my move. 

I get up from my seat at the table, casually as I can, asking Chrissie, “More coffee, darling?”

“Hm?” she replies, looking up from her newspaper. “Oh, coffee. No thanks, I’ve had enough already.”

Her face is buried in whatever article she’s reading, so she doesn’t notice as I walk behind her, running my hands along her shoulders and down to join hers, burying my face in her neck and hair, in her delicious scent. She starts to sigh and coo with pleasure, as I slowly begin to massage her shoulders.

“Oh, oh yes, that’s lovely,” she murmurs, putting down her paper and leaning back into me. “Don’t stop. Oh, I had no idea. I thought I was
relaxed
until you started doing that, but don’t stop, it’s great, I love it.”

Still kissing her neck, I begin to make my intentions slightly more dishonourable. Because this is no innocent backrub, after all. Slowly but surely my hands work their way towards the neck of her blouse, massaging her skin and then slowly undoing the first button.

“Hey,” she gasps. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Exactly what it looks like,” I murmur, easing a second button open. 

I can feel myself growing hard at the thought of taking her perfect breasts in my hands.

“But
... here
?” she says, her voice trembling a little as I pop open a third button.

“Here,” I growl, opening a forth, baring her chest now, my hands scooping her breasts free of her bra, my thumbs toying with her hardening nipples.

“Now?” she sighs.

“Right fucking now,” I command, my voice tight with lust, my cock so hard for her. “I want to have you, just like I did in the library.”

“But what if someone comes in,” she sighs, but I can tell she’s warming up to the idea of our game. Her breath is coming in shallow little pants and she’s arching her back as I tug and tweak at her nipples.

“They won’t,” I reply. “But on the other hand, they might,” I add, as my hands carry on their wicked work, cupping her breasts.

“But I’m wearing jeans,” she sighs. “In the library I was wearing a skirt. It was easier ...”

“Well you’d better stand up and take off your jeans then, hadn’t you,” I say, and again, it’s more a command than anything.

To my delight, she does just as I ask, pushing herself to her feet, unbuttoning her jeans and then slipping them, along with her knickers, down over her thighs, then to the floor, stepping out of them, so she’s totally naked from the waist down.

“Good girl,” I growl, slipping my hand between her legs from behind, registering the sheer heat of her pussy, her wetness quickly coating my fingers as I toy with her with one hand while fumbling my cock from my slacks with the other.

As I take a step back to quickly sheath my cock with a condom, she eases one knee up onto the wooden kitchen table, spreading herself wide for me, turning to look at me over her shoulder, her lips open in a sexy pout, the sunlight that’s streaming through the windows shining through her hair like a halo, and she looks so perfect, like an angel, a goddess.

I quickly step forward again, taking hold of her hips, easing my hot thickness inside her, loving the way she sighs with pleasure, pushing her perfect bottom back against me, drawing my cock deep inside her beautifully tight wetness, her muscles squeezing me.

And like that, I begin to fuck her, first slowly and sensually but as she begins to moan and groan, faster and faster, until she’s crying out, arching her back, grinding herself against me, my hands on her pretty arse now, as I continue to fuck her, hard and fast, until we both seem to explode in orgasm at the same moment.

I fall forwards on top of her, my cock still pulsing inside her, her pussy clenching in waves around me, both of us moaning and trembling as the last of our pleasure courses through us, no inhibitions left, both of us lost in our own world. 

§

After we’ve dressed and put the disarray we caused in the kitchen back together, we cuddle up in the snug, to read and listen to music. We sit in companionable silence, occasionally chatting away, but I love that we can sit here without constant talk.

Even so, I can sense that perhaps something is not quite right with Chrissie. I don’t know whether I’m just being paranoid; I sincerely
hope
I am. But over the past few months, on and off, I’ve been able to sense a disquiet in her; like something’s gnawing on her perhaps. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but when I look at her now, there’s this concern etched lightly into her features. She’s chewing her lip, absentmindedly, and I’m sure there’s something on her mind. I just wish she could tell me.

After all, she’s been
so
wonderful for me, I don’t like the idea of anything troubling her.

“Everything okay, darling?” I say.

“Yes, of course,” she replies, looking up at me and smiling.

Her features relax and I wonder if it was all just a figment of my imagination. She leans over and plants a loving kiss on my lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she says.

And she’s right of course. Everything is so perfect. Why wouldn’t it be?