An adult stories – What If I Said I Love You? by oneagainst,oneagainst [Author’s note: A prequel of sorts to Wonderland. I have a number of precursor stories that never got used… here’s one.]
—
WHAT IF I SAID I LOVE YOU
“C’mon, really, which one?” Ellis asks, turning from the mirror to face her husband.
She’s holding a black dress in one hand, a grey pencil skirt in the other. On the bed, her husband watches her closely.
“Either.”
“Dan, c’mon. Which?”
She holds the dress up to her body again. She’s wearing a little lacy black lingerie set and nothing else.
“The dress, with stockings?” she continues, “Or if I put the skirt on, maybe bare legs, the blue top.”
“The tight blue top?”
“The tight one, what do you think? Look, it’s either evening-wear with the dress, or business-casual with the skirt and top.”
Dan gives her a smile, replying, “You always look hot in the skirt.”
“Skirt then?”
Ellis steps into it and pulls it up her legs. She turns to face the mirror, tugging the zip up the perfect curve of her bottom, smoothing her hands over her rear, feeling the way the tight material shapes her body.
“I remember the first time I saw you in a skirt like that,” Dan murmurs, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
Ellis turns back to her husband, suddenly coy in just her bra. “Why?” she asks.
“Something about the way you moved. The way your legs….”
“You mean, like this?”
Ellis steps into her high heels, doing a little twirl, showing off her shapely calves.
“You always were a closer, El,” her husband says, getting up from the bed and coming over to her.
“That’s why you married me. I closed the deal, right?”
She wraps her arms around his neck, and they kiss.
“You were a gun asset from day one.”
“And now?”
He runs his hands down her bare back, seizing her luscious behind with both hands and giving her a squeeze until she yelps playfully.
“Oh, now, you’re an absolute weapon.”
“I’m gonna close the deal, baby. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind, El. You’re fucking irresistible.”
Dan leans in for another kiss. They linger, then she pushes away, breaking off.
“Enough. Shit, you’re getting all sorts of ideas. We gotta go. We’ve got business.”
“We’ve got a little time, El. Enough time for….”
“Really? You gonna use a condom?”
“What?”
“Or you gonna be serving up sloppy seconds? How’s that gonna look, babe?”
Dan gives his wife a look, then shakes his head, relinquishing the embrace.
“Yeah, you see. I’m always working. You might be running the show, but don’t forget who your closer is.”
“Like you’d ever let me,” Dan laughs, watching his wife straighten the blue top.
“There, how’s that?”
“Lock and load, El. You look a hundred percent.”
“Bullshit. I look at least two fifty.”
Ellis slinks over to the bed, her hips swaying in her high heels, coming in for one last kiss. Her husband’s smile fades.
“I need you to close this,” he tells her.
“Don’t worry, I will. Mr. H is gonna sign. You turn up for breakfast and he’ll have the paperwork. I promise.”
“He better.”
“He will. Look, it’s a good arrangement. He’s happy with it, you’re happy with it, right?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“He’s opened doors, and he’s gonna keep opening them. The Sandford opportunity, he’ll be begging to invest when I’m done, just like before. We’re killers, you and me. We get it done.”
“How do you feel though?”
Ellis stepped back, adjusting her skirt again, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. She tucks her long, auburn hair behind an ear and nodded to herself.
“I think one night a month with him is a small price to pay, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, El. You’re so good. You got him right in the palm of your hand.”
“It’s where you want him, right?”
“And he wants you for the whole night this time?”
“It’s his stipulation. It’s how we close, babe.”
Dan shakes his head and replies, “He won’t know what’s hit him.”
“It’s the cost of doing business. Tomorrow night, I’m back here and I promise it’s gonna be a celebration.”
“I can’t wait, El. I can’t fucking wait.”
—
The bar is busy, but Martyn Holt is easy to pick out from the crowd. He isn’t especially tall, or even all that good looking, but he’s not the middle-aged silver-fox stereotype like the rest of the guys in the bar. His suit is sharper, his hair smarter, his eyes quicker. There’s something that he’s giving off as he walks that sets him apart. He doesn’t need the Rolex on his wrist like the crowd of guys he’s weaving through. He wears it not to show he’s top dog, but because knowing the proper time is valuable to him.
Dan spots him first and raises a hand. Martyn nods and plots a course towards them.
“He’s here. Heads up,” Dan mutters under his breath.
Ellis turns to see. Martyn’s attention shifts to her, and he smiles. She smiles back.
“Dan, good to see you. Ellis, lovely as always.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Dan asks.
“Vodka soda, splash of lime, please.”
“Sure,” Dan nods, “Take a seat. El, same again?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Martyn settles onto the seat next to Ellis, setting down his leather briefcase on the floor.
“Long day?” she asks.
“You have no idea. I’m at the business end of two deals, and the guys on the Fulton Heights project have just gotten a sniff of the new rail station being planned. They suddenly think it’s worth twice the price.”
He shakes his head.
“In ten years,” Ellis replies, “When the government finally gets around to it. What’re they gonna do? Just hold onto the vacant block for ten years?”
“I know. Some people need to take a basic course in addition and subtraction. But, now they think they’re geniuses, sitting on a pot of gold.”
“Which pot is that?” Dan asks as he returns, setting down Martyn’s vodka soda and a glass of white wine for his wife.
“Fulton,” Martyn replies.
“The railway?” Dan snorts, shaking his head. “They got the backing to hold on to the land that long?”
“That’s what we were just saying, honey,” Ellis chips in.
“Didn’t get one for yourself?” Martyn observes.
“Nah, I might split after this one.”
He takes the stool on the other side of his wife and picks up his half-empty beer. They make shop-talk, gossiping about land deals, about rumours. Dan is keen to demonstrate to Martyn that he has his ear to the ground. They don’t mention the Sandford deal. Dan doesn’t want to appear too eager. He downs the last of his drink and stands up.
“Okay, I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, nodding to Martyn and then leaning towards his wife.
“Have fun, babe,” he whispers in her ear, then gives her a kiss on the cheek.
Ellis gives him a little smile, replying, “See you later.”
Dan gives her a perfunctory pat on her bottom and pushes his way into the crowd. Ellis watches him go, until he’s out of her sight, then she turns back to her companion. He’s sipping his drink slowly, watching her. He puts it down on the table.
“So,” she begins, “What shall we do now? Back to your place?”
“If you like. Or….”
“Or?”
“Up to you, but there’s a gallery opening tonight. They’re showing Tomowicz.”
“Could do.”
“Or we could just go back to mine. But, I thought you might enjoy the art.”
“Marty, it’s your call. It’s always your call.”
“But if it was yours, just this once?”
Ellis picks up her glass for a sip. She’s stalling, trying to work out the next move. Martyn watches her patiently, giving nothing away.
“He’s an abstract impressionist. Terribly underrated,” Martyn offers. “I realise it’s not Dan’s thing, otherwise I’d have invited you both.”
Ellis puts her glass down, suddenly coy.
“I’d love to. And that’s crap.”
“What is?”
“That you’d have invited Dan.”
Martyn laughs, “Yes, complete crap.”
“Let’s do it. Then we can go back to yours.”
“Then?”
“Well, Mr. H, you can continue to study art in the privacy of your own room.”
“You have a high opinion of yourself.”
“So do you.”
“Mine is warranted,” Martyn rumbles.
He stands up, draining the last of his drink in one mouthful, then offering his hand to Ellis. She puts her hand in his and allows him to lead her through the crowd. She’s in front, but his hand is on her hip, his mouth close to her ear in the bustle.
“Yours is warranted too, Ellis. I’m going to enjoy studying you later.”
Ellis presses her hand over his.
“I’m going to enjoy being studied,” she replies.
Outside, Martyn hails a cab. It’s a ten-minute journey across town to a gallery in one of the classier shopping districts. Martyn’s clearly expected, and is welcomed in with a smile from the woman checking names on the front door. Ellis drifts in his wake, eyeing the other occupants.
“I feel a bit underdone,” she confesses, indicating an elegant older woman in a fur coat.
Martyn is checking in his briefcase at the door.
“You look fine. They,” he says, nodding towards the woman, “They don’t have to work for a living. We do.”
A young man approaches with a tray of champagne flutes. Martyn selects two and passes one to Ellis, chinking glasses.
“Cheers. To a night of cultural delights,” he tells her.
They wander through the gallery, viewing the artworks. Martyn makes little comments, but nothing seems to catch his fancy. Ellis sips her champagne awkwardly, casting sidelong glances at the people around them.
“What about this one?”
Her attention shifts to a large square painting. The palette is dominated by reds, splashed angrily across the canvas.
“It’s quite, uh, intense,” she offers.
“Yes. I was thinking that it looks like a murder scene.”
“Really, Martyn? You’ve seen one?” says a male voice from behind them.
Martyn turns at the interruption, brow furrowed, but then smiles.
“Harvey, how are you? I hadn’t expected to find you here.”
“I’m not quite sure how to take that.”
The newcomer is stocky, taller than them both. Ellis is drawn to his massive hands, the way they make the champagne flute look like a toy in his fingers.
“I didn’t know you had an interest in the arts, I meant,” Martyn continued.
“Oh, you know. I have many interests. I love things of beauty.”
His gaze shifts from Martyn to Ellis. There is a question there in his expression.
“I see you’re unaccompanied tonight, Harvey,” Martyn says.
“I see you’re not.”
“Ellis and I have a common interest in the arts.”
Harvey’s attention shifts to Ellis, and he says, “I’d guess you have a lot of common interests, right?”
Ellis doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t matter. Harvey’s attention returns to Martyn.
“Did you hear about the Raceway?” he asks.
“Yes. Were you looking at it?”
“Was.”
“Just missed out?”
Harvey laughs at that, a deep rumbling sound.
“Oh no, missed by a lot. Chinese money, paid over the odds. They’re shifting the market.”
Martyn nods in agreement, saying, “All out of Hong Kong. They’re trying to get their money out before the handover. The British are bad enough, but when the Communists take over, who knows what happens to all that cash?”
“Making life harder for us.”
“Might not, in the long run. Might lift the entire market.”
“We’ll see, I guess. Anyway, just thought I’d say hello. Enjoy your evening.”
Harvey lays a subtle emphasis on the word ‘enjoy’, then nods to them both. Martyn just nods back, then he turns back to Ellis.
“Shall we take a look at the reason we’re here?” he asks.
“Is there a reason, or are you just showing off?”
“Oh, you mustn’t think that. I genuinely had no idea I’d see anyone I know here. Do you feel like you’re on display?”
“Like the art you mean?”
“I suppose.”
“Am I to be framed and hung on the wall for viewing?”
“I’m not sure this is the place. They deal in still lifes, not performance pieces.”
Martyn’s eyes glint mischievously, but then his face softens and he leans closer.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to put you on the spot. Harvey’s a good sort, really.”
Ellis straightens, raising her chin.
“So, shall we view the art or not Mr. H? If that’s really what we’re here for?”
Martyn offers his arm and Ellis slips hers through his. He leads her to the back of the gallery, to a large piece that occupies most of the back wall.
“The Tomowicz. What are your first impressions?”
Ellis contemplates the canvas, the riot of intersecting splatters overlaid and twining around a set of strong lines in blue and yellow. Her eyes play over the shapes.
“It looks like chaos,” she murmurs.
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? They’re calling him a Jackson Pollock derivative, but I think they’re missing the details entirely. He’s of the same school, but he has his own narrative. Have you ever seen Pollock’s Blue Poles?”
Ellis shakes her head, her focus still on the painting.
“I was looking at a deal in Western Sydney a few years back, and I had to go down to Canberra, to Parliament House to see the man about the horse. I was standing there in the lobby area and there it was. You’ve probably seen pictures, but there, in the flesh, seeing the huge expanse of it, it’s something else. It dominates. You can see the riot, but also the structure, the energy. It was just me, Blue Poles, and politicians milling around in the background like sheep.”
Ellis is watching him now, the way his face lights up as he talks. There is an enthusiasm in his words that very rarely surfaces through the staid, steady control. When he smiles in recollection, she echoes the smile too. Eventually, he looks away from the painting on the wall and their eyes meet. He lapses into silence.
“Tell me something, Ellis. Look at the painting again, and tell me what you see.”
Ellis steps closer to the artwork, following the lines. She begins to follow them with her finger in the air, hovering above the paint.
“The lines are the important thing,” she states at last, “Among all the spatters and the randomness. They start out here in the corner, far apart, then twine together here.”
She points at a point on the picture.
“Then it looks like they’re parting, going separate ways, but they come together again here and then they finish down the bottom. They’re linked, in perfect circles. It’s a story.”
Martyn steps in close behind her, his hand settling on her waist. Ellis doesn’t pull away, instead she leans back into him subtly, her shoulder blades making contact with his chest.
“Yes, you get it. It’s a chart, mapping out the landscape of a relationship between the blue and the yellow. There are trials and tribulations, but it’s the story of a navigation through a complex, adversarial landscape.”
“To where?”
Martyn points at the interlocked circles, and replies, “To here. Home.”
Ellis shifts her hand, placing it over his.
“So, do you think I should buy it?” Martyn asks.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Would you buy it?”
Ellis’ mouth creases in a wry smile, and she says, “Oh no. Dan wouldn’t go for something like this.”
“Not his thing? What does her prefer?”
“Signed team jerseys, each in their own frame. He’s not a patron of the arts.”
“And yet his wife has a fine eye for it.”
“I suppose I do.”
“If you’re happy with this, I’ll buy it. I’ll hang it at home, and you can see it whenever you like.”
Ellis turns in his grasp to look up at him, laughing.
“So, I can start collecting pieces, can I?” she asks.
“If you have an interest. We can find places for them, I’m sure.”
“And Dan’s none the wiser.”
“As you said, it’s not your husband’s thing. But, if it’s yours then why should you sacrifice something that makes you happy?”
“I… uh, I don’t know.”
“I’ll have a word out the front, before Harvey moves in and tries to one-up me. Then, are you hungry?”
“Yes. But don’t you want to take me back to your place?”
“Do you really want to? Or, shall I take you to dinner?”
Ellis hesitates for a moment, but then replies, “Yes, I’d like that.”
“Then you can decide what happens next.”
He gives her a little squeeze but before she can clarify his meaning, he’s striding back to the front desk to work out the purchase details. Ellis is left on her own, her eyes following the journey in the painting again, down to the entwined circles. She wraps her arms around herself.
Martyn hails another cab, but it’s a short hop this time. They are disgorged on the curb in front of a restaurant she’s never seen before.
“Here, I thought this might be fun,” Martyn tells her.
“What kind of food is it?”
“Japanese. They’ve just opened, and I guarantee you’ve seen nothing like it.”
“Japanese? What do they serve?”
Martyn’s eyes widen and his voice drops, like he’s divulging a shocking secret.
“Raw fish. It’s called sushi.”
“I’m not sure….”
“Just, please, indulge me. I had the same reaction but, like I said, there’s nothing like it.”
“What do we do? Do we have to, uh, slice the fish?”
“No, come and see. It’s really quite amazing.”
Ellis allows Martyn to lead her into the restaurant. The waiter seats them at a little table and Martyn orders. As the waiter departs, Ellis leans over to him.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” she mutters.
“Ah, that’s the art. Even if you’ve no idea, you never show it. You should have learned that by now. You’re both very good.”
“At property.”
“At most things, I’d imagine. You project an air of competence.”
Ellis wrinkles her nose.
“You don’t agree?” Martyn asks.
“Your friend Harvey, he saw through everything in the gallery. He knows what’s going on.”
“And does that bother you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it does. It doesn’t show us in a good light, does it?”
“Us? Which us?”
“You and I. Dan and I. Both.”
“I disagree.”
“How?”
“Start with me. Do you think it harms my reputation to have a beautiful, smart woman on my arm around town?”
“I don’t know. Does it?”
“The beautiful, maybe. Richard Scott is fond of bimbos, and it does lend itself to a stereotype. But, the smart is the important thing. Harvey knows who you are, he knows you’re not eye candy, and yet you’re still attending events with me.”
“So, that’s good for your reputation.”
“It’s good for my reputation.”
“And your reputation matters a lot to you.”
“It does. A reputation opens doors, smooths the way.”
“And I boost that reputation, hanging off your arm.”
Ellis is matter-of-fact about it, but there’s an edge to her tone. Martyn picks up his chopsticks and splits them, rubbing them against each other.
“You make it sound transactional,” he says.
“It is though, isn’t it. What about my reputation? Or Dan’s? He’s allowed his own wife to go off with another man.”
“How much of a problem do you think that is for you both? Is it a problem?”
“It’s a problem, yes.”
Martyn’s watching her closely now.
“Why, Ellis?”
“What do you think people think about Dan when they see us together?”
“Shall I tell you?”
“How? How do you know?”
“Because it comes up in conversation.”
“And what do they say?”
“It may surprise you.”
“Try me.”
Martyn places his chopsticks down carefully. At that moment, the waiter returns with a plate. Arranged in neat rows are thin slices of salmon and tuna, and a dollop of wasabi on the side. He positions it on the table between them. Martyn looks up.
“Thank you,” he tells the waiter.
The waiter retreats. Ellis doesn’t pick up her chopsticks. She’s uninterested in the food. She’s waiting for Martyn’s response.
“Seeing you with me sends a message to everyone we deal with,” Martyn continues in a low voice.
“That I’m easy?” Ellis bristles.
“No. It tells everyone that you’re closers. You get the deal done, you’re hungry. Loaning yourself out to me once a month shows everyone you’re serious. When I back the Sandford deal, they’ll see you getting what you want.”
Martyn pours a little soy sauce into a shallow dish. Carefully, he scoops up a little wasabi and blends it into the dark liquid.
“You’re acquiring a reputation too, Ellis. You and your husband. You’re noted.”
He picks up a slice of salmon and douses it in the sauce, covering both sides, then holds the morsel up between them.
“You’re much smarter than your husband, Ellis. He was lucky to land you at his agency. He was spectacularly lucky to make you his wife. Try a piece.”
The salmon advances towards her lips, but Ellis pulls back.
“It’s actually delicious,” Martyn tells her.
“But maybe it’s not what I want.”
“Ellis, you could have whatever you want.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re doing some great deals.”
“No, I’m standing in short skirts talking to men who are busy trying to look down my cleavage. Meanwhile Dan’s doing the deals.”
“Because you’re there.”
“Yes. Because it’s a man’s world and he needs the eye candy to bring in the customers. Let’s face it, that’s what this is, too.”
“What is?”
“Us. So that you’ll sign the funding for the Sandford transaction.”
“I already signed it.”
“What?”
“It’s done and dusted. Our business is all wrapped up. You could leave now if you wanted.”
Ellis hesitates, unsure.
“Ellis, shall I call you a cab?”
The salmon is still suspended between them, poised. Martyn’s tone is affable, but his eyes are serious. With glacial slowness, Ellis leans forward again. Her lips part. She allows Martyn to feed her the morsel, taking it into her mouth and chewing slowly. She swallows, her eyes never leaving his.
“You’re right, it’s delicious,” she tells him.
—
Martyn has the penthouse in one of the new buildings on the fringe of the city’s central business district. The step out of the cab in front of the foyer and he offers Ellis his hand. She takes it.
“So, we’re getting to the business end of the night,” Ellis says.
“I suppose so,” Martyn replies.
He doesn’t make a move towards the doors.
“What’s the matter?” Ellis asks him.
Martyn shrugs, replying, “Like I told you, I already signed. Plus, it’s late. I think we overran our allotment, what with the gallery and sushi.”
“Don’t you want me to come up?”
“Depends, do you? Won’t your husband be expecting you back soon?”
“We’ve got time.”
She squeezes his hand.
“In that case, would you like a nightcap?”
“I’d love one.”
“Let’s see what I can conjure up.”
They enter the foyer and call an elevator, standing hand-in-hand. The building is expensive; the penthouse would be eye-watering, but it’s Martyn’s building. He reserved the top floor for himself. The elevator arrives and they get in. Martyn slots a key into the control panel and turns it. The elevator begins to ascend.
They get out in the top floor, in the lobby of his penthouse, and Ellis deposits her clutch on the side table.
“Nightcap?” Martyn reminds her.
“I was wondering if you had anything else.”
“Not drinks?”
“No.”
“I see. How much time do you have?”
Ellis moves, a single fluid motion into him, running a hand through his hair. She lifts her chin and stands up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. When she breaks off, she’s smiling.
“All night,” she purrs.
“What happened to the midnight curfew? What does your husband say?”
“I told him you’d requested me for the night.”
Martyn’s eyebrows raise, but then he smiles.
“See? This is exactly what I meant about you, Ellis. But tell me, is it what you want or what you think I want?”
“Martyn,” Ellis replies, craning her neck to kiss him again, “I don’t give a damn what you want.”
She steps back from him, wandering over to the windows of the penthouse. She’s a dark shape in the gloom, slinking in her high heels, silhouetted by the bright lights of the city. Martyn follows behind her. At the window, she stops. She’s standing with her feet together, hands clasped in front of her, looking out at the night. Her perfect body is on display for him. Martyn reaches out and settles a hand at the base of her spine, but Ellis doesn’t react.
A profound silence has settled on the darkened room, broken by the rasp of a zipper. Martyn’s fingers pull the tab down over the curve of her bottom, letting the tight fabric part to reveal dark, lacy panties and creamy, soft skin. He reaches up and undoes the little button at her waist and the skirt tumbles to the floor. Without a word, Ellis steps out of it.
She’s still facing the city, unmoving, as Martyn wraps his hands around her waist, tracing the skin of her tummy under the tight blue fabric of her blouse, rumpling it as he lifts. Ellis raises her arms above her head, allowing herself to be stripped of the garment. Martyn pulls it over her head and then lets it fall to the floor.
She looks at him then, over her shoulder. She doesn’t speak, but her eyes tell him everything. He fumbles with her bra clasp and she rolls her shoulders, shaking it free and exposing herself. The bra joins the rest of her clothing in a little pile at her feet. Ellis gathers her long hair in her hands, smoothing it out behind her, coiling it in her fingers to reveal the supple arch of her neck. She locks her fingers, putting her arms behind her head, baring herself. Martyn can see the reflection of her bare front in the glass, and his hands slip down her sides until they reach the waist of her panties. She doesn’t resist as he tugs them down her long, lovely legs.
Once again, she steps out of the little bundle of clothing at her feet, standing now in just her high heels, her back turned to him, completely exposed. She releases her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders, and presses her hands against the glass. Very slowly, Ellis leans forward, bending at the waist, until her breath is ghosting the window. Deliberately, she parts her legs, standing wide in front of him.
Martyn’s hand tracks the contours of her back, over the soft globe of her bottom, venturing at last into the little space between her legs. Ellis stiffens, her breath catching, as she anticipates his contact.
He spreads his hand, running two fingers along her outer lips, back and forth, over and over. He moves slowly, watching Ellis responding to his gentle, languid touch. His fingers pause, then press deeper, parting her. Her inner sanctum glistens in the dark. Slowly, Martyn edges her backwards, forcing her to bend over further until her bottom is sticking up in the air, her hands still pressed against the window. Her breasts hang down, shrouded by her hair.
He sinks to his knees, using his thumbs to keep her parted, and delivers a kiss to her inner lips. Ellis trembles, sucking in a quick breath, both otherwise she remains still and silent. Martyn begins to explore her, pursing his lips around her little nub, feeling her respond to him. His tongue laps against her slit, teasing up and down, promising more, but he’s waiting. She gives out a little groan, and that’s enough. He slides his tongue tip inside her and she begins to make a low mewling sound.
Martyn breaks off, drawing back and standing up. In front of him, her naked body outlined against the city lights, Ellis shudders at his retreat. He reaches around her chest to cup a breast, teasing her nipple between thumb and finger. Her hands never leave the window, letting him explore her body at will.
At last, he grasps her shoulder and pulls her upright. Placing a hand on the base of her spine, fingers spread across her cheek, he turns her body and directs her away from the window. They move through the darkened apartment, Ellis naked save for her high heels, Martyn still fully clothed, the only sound being the tap of her heels on the floor. He directs her towards the bedroom, and she doesn’t resist, allowing herself to be guided.
In front of the bed, Ellis kicks off her shoes at last, dropping in height. She climbs onto the bed without needing to be asked, lying down on her back with her head on the pillow. She looks up at the man standing before her and very deliberately slides her hands behind her neck. The effect is immediate, lifting her perfect breasts. She keeps smouldering eye contact with him in the gloom, and then parts her legs.
Martyn looks down at the naked, enticing woman on his bed. She’s opened herself for him, an invitation. He seems to hesitate, but then he starts to unbutton his shirt, casting it off. His belt is next, then his trousers. Ellis breaks eye contact then, her gaze shifting down to the bulge in his underwear. She bites her lip, and it’s enough for Martyn. He slides his underwear down his legs, stripping himself, letting his manhood rise unencumbered.
“I’m yours for the night, for whatever you want,” Ellis whispers.
Martyn doesn’t reply. Instead, he climbs onto the bed, working his way up until he’s positioned over her body. She glances down at his rock-hard erection, shifting her hips subtly, signalling that she’s ready. When at last Martyn’s body descends, she accepts him inside fully, in a single stroke.
“You’re eager,” he murmurs.
“You’re persuasive.”
He bears down on her, pressing her body into the bed as he begins to rise and fall. He’s in no hurry, taking his time to enjoy her. Ellis runs her hands through his hair, down his spine. He brushes his lips down her throat, over her chest, until he finds a nipple and begins to suck and tease. Ellis squirms, cooing.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to take my time?”
“I don’t mind. It’s a nice change.”
His hips bear down, over and over, in a steady cadence. Ellis stretches out like a cat.
“I’d like to take my time,” Martyn tells her, “I’d like to savour you.”
“I want to be savoured. I never get to be savoured.”
“That’s a shame. You’re perfect, Ellis.”
The words trigger something in her and she wraps her arms around him, nuzzling into his neck, applying her teeth to his skin. Martyn’s rhythm changes, becoming more ardent, driving harder now into the woman beneath him. Ellis responds in turn, making little sounds with each thrust, building up to her release.
Martyn’s pace increases, plunging deeper, faster, until her body is shaking with each thrust. She emits a high keening note, digging her nails into his back, as her body stiffens in climax.
“I’m not done,” Martyn growls, grunting from the effort.
“Take… do it. Please, oh, please.”
Ellis screws her eyes closed, her face flushed with her orgasm, letting it roll on and on as the man above her begins to break his rhythm, shuddering in little staccato movements now. She holds her breath waiting, and when he finally rams himself home she squeals as he fills her with his seed.
Afterwards, they lie together in the dark, folded in his crisp white sheets, their bare bodies still pressed together.
“What does this mean, staying the night?” Martyn asks, “What’s your plan?”
“What makes you think I have a plan?”
Martyn chuckles.
“As I said, you’re way too smart not to have a plan. What do you want out of all this?”
Ellis doesn’t reply immediately, and when she does, her voice is barely more than a whisper.
“I don’t know, Martyn. I really don’t. This all seemed so simple, so, uh, transactional.”
“And now it isn’t.”
“No.”
“Are you having fun, though, with us like this?”
“I suppose.”
“Just suppose?”
Ellis plants a little kiss on his chest, replying, “No. I know.”
“And Dan?”
“So long as the deals keep flowing, he doesn’t care. He does his part and I do mine. That’s what seems to be important to him.”
Martyn wraps an arm around her, pondering her response for a moment.
“How does that make you feel, that he doesn’t care?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ah, Ellis, we’re speaking the truth at last, so please… how do you feel?”
“I thought I was okay with it all. Higher heels, shorter skirts, losing weight, the proper hairstyle, all of it for the deal.”
“Seducing me?”
“Yes.”
“I am entirely seduced, Ellis. Your work is done. But you’re dodging the question.”
“I just feel like there’s more.”
Martyn’s laughter rumbles through his chest, and Ellis stiffens.
“What’s so goddamn funny?” she hisses.
“Nothing funny, just relief.”
“At what?”
“You finally coming out with it. You’re right, Ellis, there’s so much more, and I would love to be the one to show you.”
Martyn hugs her to him, nuzzling her hair. Ellis allows herself to be cocooned in his arms.
“We can keep this up, if you want. Once a month, as arranged. The deals keep coming. I keep up my end of the bargain as you keep up yours.”
“And do what?”
“Oh, anything you like. What interests you that your husband would never agree to? Do you want to come skiing? The ballet? Opening night at the finest new restaurants in the city?”
“The world at my feet for one night a month.”
“Yes. We could just go on like that.”
“With me as your little decoration, your plus one to all the events.”
“Of course. Remember, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, your precious reputation.”
“Yes. It precedes me wherever I go, clearing the way like some monstrous snowplough.”
“Heralding your greatness,” she teases.
Martyn glances at her, seeing the little smile, and he grins in return.
“Something like that.”
“Such a burden, to be so revered.”
“Feared, Ellis. I get what I want because they all understand the consequences of crossing me.”
“The man who can’t be played. He writes the deals to his terms and then takes his dues.”
“I suppose.”
“And what are his dues? A debt position, equity, bullion.”
Ellis lays her hand on his chest, a gentle touch.
“A woman,” she murmurs.
“Is that what you are, a form of payment?”
She kisses him, grinning, before answering, “Think of me as a dividend. The mighty Mr. H, unswayable, unflappable, decides when he gets paid and how, and it costs him nothing.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken.”
“Really? You’ve gotten everything you want. What’s this costing you?”
“I need to maintain my reputation. Once a month, so that people can’t say I’m going soft. That’s it, Ellis. I can’t stray from the path, because then it all crumbles. I have to have armour around my heart.”
She laughs, but it dies as she watches his expression turning earnest, his eyes on her.
“Martyn, what does that mean?” Ellis asks.
“All the deals, all the talking, all the pressure. I get to be free one night each month, away from the pantomime.”
He’s staring up at the ceiling now. The words hang over them in the silence. Ellis parts her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. At last, she speaks.
“What if I said I love you?”
At that, Martyn pulls her to him, and she snuggles against his body. He contemplates her for several long moments. She watches the play of emotions on his face, her heart fluttering in anticipation.
“Then I believe my heart might just crack,” he replies.
—
[Some background on characters in the Wonderland saga, set thirty years earlier. I hope it was of interest…? Follow me for updates to this and my other stories. If you like what you read, please leave a comment or a star rating. Constructive feedback is always welcome. If you want further adventures, or to check out my other stories, my story page is here]