SEVEN DAYS (20 page)

She added her own moans to the sound of their play.

“Hold me,” she said.

He gripped her waist firmly and maintained his pace, fucking her hard as if he were banging a drum. She felt herself falling apart, her reason like loose change spilled over the floor.

She had reason enough, however, to keep her eye on that door at the other end of the room. Was it opening?

If so, Mark wasn’t paying it any attention. His attention was entirely focused on Judy. Her pussy. Her ass.

His hands slid over her spine and he drew his fingers down her back as he thrust inside her hard enough to shove the chair forward a few inches.

“Yes!” she cried.

He plunged his cock into her again and again and she backed into him each time to maximise the depth of his penetration. She wanted to be as close to him as possible and she wanted to come with him inside her. She was close. So close.

It started out as a tiny wave, but then there was another, and another, tiny flutterings building into one awesome wave that would have bent her double if she hadn’t already been prone over Mark’s chair. Mark continued to move inside her, not slowing at all, demonstrating an athleticism that confirmed all she had hoped about his sexual prowess. He was amazing through and through.

He reduced her to whimpers and it seemed to be this noise coming from her that made him come finally.

She bucked, her final orgasm more or less coinciding with his.

They hardly had time to enjoy an after sex glow before they heard footsteps and Mark whipped his cock out of her and tucked it into his pants while Judy raised her knickers and skirt in one motion.

Andre put his head around the door at the far end of the room.

 “Mark,” he said. “You're needed.”

Too right you are,
Judy thought.

“I’m coming,” Mark told him and Judy sniggered.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Andre said to Judy. “How's your head now?”

“All over the place,” she admitted, “but in a good way.”

* * * *

She didn't feel good for long, however, because it transpired that another event had been planned for that evening and it occurred to Judy that Mark deliberately hadn't mentioned it because he knew that she would not wish to go. Though her life seemed relaxed to her, it was in fact strictly regulated. One social event per week, by which she meant a meal with a friend, a trip to the theatre or a walk along the river was enough for her.

Last night had already sent her into overload and she really needed some quiet time now to make up for it, but that was not on the menu. She thought she might be able to cry off on account of still being hung over from the night before, but Andre informed her that it was considered compulsory.

“Since when is all this partying compulsory?” Judy asked.

“When Mark's the boss,” Andre said and indicated Mark who was now surrounded by the other women on the course, including Maggie. Even from a distance, she could see her false eyelashes batting at him and he appeared to be falling for it. Falling for her.

They were all laughing at one of Mark’s jokes.

She's probably laughing,
Judy thought uncharitably,
to make out that she understands the joke.

Mark seemed to love the attention and Judy became increasingly jealous.

Right,
she thought,
I'll give you something to be jealous about too.

“Andre,” she said. “Do you think you could help me out to the bus?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice dropping a semi-tone, and he extended his elbow so they could walk arm in arm.

The laughter died off pretty quickly after that. Mark left the girls alone.

“I see everyone's here,” Mark said. “Let's go.”

* * * *

Before letting anyone off the bus at the other end of their journey, Mark held up a bottle of clear liquid and described it as the essence, distilled and diluted, of a mushroom cultivated by a friend of Andre in the local area. He said that it was no stronger than weed nor any more addictive. It would have the effect of relaxing them and removing their inhibitions, without the unfortunate hangover the following day.

He didn't look in Judy's direction, but she felt everyone else's attention on her and she didn't thank him for that.

“I suppose drinking that is compulsory too,” Judy grumbled.

“Of course not,” Mark said. “I'm simply offering you something to help you let go. After tonight there are just four days left until your exhibition and you still have so much to unlearn.”

He stressed that it wasn't alcohol, but a natural material in liquid form for fast absorption into the blood stream. He drank a swig first, as if to show everyone that it was safe.

“What does it taste like?” asked Simon, taking the bottle.

“Nothing” Mark said. “Nothing much at all. Go ahead.”

Simon did.

“I'm definitely trying it,” Maggie said.

“I knew you would,” said Mark with a smile.

Yeah
, thought Judy,
I knew you would too.

Andre reached for the bottle.

“Not you,” Mark said. “You're driving. Free the mind and the body will follow. Free the body and the bus will follow.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No.”

Maggie took the bottle and upended it, her lips around the neck of the bottle and her eyes on Mark the whole time.

“Not too much,” Mark warned her. Adding: “I don't think you need too much more freeing up.”

“Me next,” said Judy, glad to interrupt their gazing at each other. She had never taken drugs in her life, but here she was, wiping the rim of the bottle with her hand and then chugging it as if on a losing streak in a drinking game.

“Enough,” Mark said. “Enough.”

Judy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The last time she'd done that she'd been sent to the headmistress. She’d been upset then, but now being bad felt good.

Their eyes locked and there was no denying that the connection between them was still there, stronger than ever. He chose, however, to break it, saying:

“Who's next?”

Several hands went up at once.

Drinking from the bottle hadn't seemed to impress Mark, which had been the point. She felt silly, shunned and disappointed. She had simply bowed down to peer pressure and he knew it.

On alighting the bus, the night's venue turned out to be an open air bar-disco affair.

“This is so cool!” said Maggie. She hopped up and down in another little skirt, Bernard and Kevin and even Simon drooling over her.

It had been cool when Maggie had downed a mouthful from the bottle. People had wanted to copy her. Judy had copied her. But the fact was, she could never be her.

She decided to be herself.

Time to find a corner to stand in
, she thought.

There wasn't much chance of that, however, because the music started soon after they arrived and the drug, whatever it was, didn't take long to kick in after that. She'd heard about the effects of smoking weed, because IT Jules had attempted to talk her into it on many occasions. She had resisted, because she was afraid, but also because she thought that it was just part of Jules' strategy to get her into bed and she didn't want to do anything that she wouldn't do 'sober'. She'd listened with interest the first couple of times though.

“You've gotta have a puff and hear this tune,” he would say. “Feel this bass line.” He said that the first time he'd listened to
Dark Side of the Moon
he'd been smoking and it felt as if the album had been written and performed just for him. He'd progressed to harder drugs since then, inspired by the experience, but she had steadfastly refused to partake in anything stronger than alcohol and that rarely. She didn't even like to take Paracetamol unless she was desperate.

And now here she was, feeling a bass line. In the corner, trying too hard, but gradually feeling like joining in despite herself.

Well, part of the reason she was on the course was to meet people and to have them meet her. She'd never expected that it would be all work. Partying two nights in a row was unexpected, but why not go with it? She was here.

This isn't me talking,
she thought,
it's the drug, whatever it is, and that's okay
.

She observed herself as if from a distance, moving away from the walls and away from her so-called comfort zones.

She was aware of her body and how it felt in the heat of the night, sticking to her T-shirt and trousers. Normally she would have craved a shower, but right now it wasn't an altogether unpleasant sensation, though she needed to cool off.

She headed upstairs where there was a balcony and a fan and found herself in the company of Andre again. She realised that he had followed her up to see if she was alright.

He said something in French that she didn't understand, but she caught one word.

“Belle.”

“You're not bad yourself,” she said.

He asked her to dance and her mouth must have made a 'yes' shape, because a moment later she was on a flashing dance floor being spun around by his strong arms. Talk about sculpted. He pulled her close and she slammed against his body. His torso was like a tree trunk.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don't apologise,” she laughed, forgetting that she had felt ill only an hour earlier, forgetting herself entirely.

Unusually, she danced with several men that evening, hands in the air in a way she had never done before, her hair flying about her head and feeling great as it flew against her face and neck. Spinning, she spotted Maggie glaring at her, but mercifully, wonderfully, she didn't care. She just felt slightly sad that Maggie wasn't able to dance in her boots. Those boots didn't seem to be designed for anything practical, neither dancing, nor walking, nor standing. They were extraordinary. She wanted a pair.

She danced with some of the girls too, and it was clear that she was inspiring them to loosen up. It felt good to be the centre of things for a while.

Nobody here knows I like filing,
she thought,
and then turned her back on it.

At some point, she found herself in Mark's arms, supposedly dancing. Tired by now, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I don't know what you've done to me,” she said, “but I love it.”

“Maybe you had a little too much of that concoction,” Mark replied.

“Oh no,” she said. “I'm not even talking about that. I wanted you from the moment we met.”

“Judy,” he said. “I've wanted you from the moment we met, too. You're all I can think about. I,,,you, Judy.”

“What?”

“I...you.”

“The music's too loud,” she said, pulling back. On doing so, she realised that it wasn't Mark at all. It was some tall, straight-haired guy who she hadn't seen before. “Who are you?” she demanded.