Chapter 64: Chapter 64

*****

Al arrives home to find his wife waiting in the hallway with a suitcase. “Eve? Where are you going?”

Her voice is almost conversational. “I’m leaving.”

Slack-faced, he stares at her. “Leaving? What do you mean?”

“What part of the word don’t you understand, Al? Leaving. As in going away and not coming back. I’m only here now because I’m waiting for a taxi. I’m picking Shelley up from school. Then I’m going.”

Panicked now, “Why? What’s wrong? What’s happened…?”

For reply, she stabs a finger towards a letter on the telephone table. Headed in red. ‘Notice of Repossession’. “I couldn’t have stayed much longer anyway. None of us could. They’re taking the house, Al. And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me.”

Wild-eyed, he snatches up the letter. “No. It’s a mistake. I just need to catch up a little. I’m nearly there….”

Her mouth pinched, “Oh, give me a break will you. I’ve seen the rest of it too….” Eve huffs a laugh that has nothing to do with humour…. “…. or at least as much as I could find. You’re going to need new locks on your desk.”

The hoot of a car horn comes from outside. “There’s my taxi. Bye, Al. Have a good life, whatever you decide to do with it.”

She turns, opens the door and makes for the cab waiting out on the road.

“Eve…. Wait. Please… At least tell me where you’re going.”

“I’m staying with my sister to start with. I’ll take it from there when I figure what to do next.”

“What about Shelley? The boys?”

“Shelley’s going with me. As for Stephen and David, they’re old enough to make up their own minds. I asked them, and they said they want to stay with you. They’re both earning now, so I suppose they can help you with the rent wherever you end up.” She turns away, stepping into the taxi.

“Eve…” He calls after her, but the car pulls away and disappears around the corner.

It’s barely been five minutes since he arrived home.

Bleakly, unbelievingly, he goes inside. In the lounge he finds his desk, the drawers prised open. A hammer and chisel lie on the carpet, surrounded by a scatter of veneer and wood chips. On top of the desk is the sheaf of letters he has been hiding….

Demand for Payment….

…. Final Notice….

…. Court Order….

Five minutes later, David comes in. “Dad? Are you alright?”

Stephen follows him in. “We’ll manage, Dad. We’ll sort something out. And when we’ve done that, we’ll get Mom to come back. You’ll see.”

But neither of them likes seeing the tears on their father’s cheeks.

*****

Charlotte I pour myself a glass of wine. I don’t generally drink during the day, but I’m jittery.

“Charlotte are you alright?” It is my Master, watching me from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m fine, just a bit nervous I suppose, wondering what Beth is going to learn.” Holding up the bottle, “Would you like some?”

“I will yes.” He moves to stand beside me as I pour another glass. “You shouldn’t be nervous. Whatever Beth comes back with, will tell us something.”

“What if they still won’t talk to her?”

He lays his hand on my arm. “Then there will be another way of finding your mother.” His skin is cool on mine. He casts a sharp look down to where he touches me, then his eyes rise again, soft on me. “You are nervous….” The palm of his hand slides over my arm….

Testing me…?

“…. You shouldn’t be,” he says. “But I do understand how much this means to you.” He takes one of the glasses, presses it into my hand. “Drink some of your wine.” He takes the other, sipping at it, all the while, watching me.

I can’t help it. I’m trembling and with the glass in my hand, magnifying the movement, he can’t miss it.

“You need to relax,” he says.

He takes the glass from me, putting it down along with his own, then his hands on my shoulders, he draws me in, his lips brushing over mine teasing them apart.

Sweet and cool with the wine, his mouth captures mine. The kiss is slow and sensual and speaks of everything which lies between us.

He turns me, stands behind me, but the kiss continues, his breath warm as he nibbles and mouths the soft curve of shoulder to neck.

Fingers trace a line from the top of my spine, up and into my hair. “Bend forward,” he murmurs. His voice is slow and chocolaty and the lightest pressure between my shoulders pushes me forward and down. A tingle shivers down my spine, warming me inside.

His body lowers with mine, his face close by my cheek. “Ankles wide,” he whispers. “Grip the counter with your fingers.”

My throat is tight and I'm growing warm and liquid as I ease my feet apart. But his shoe nudges at my ankles, opening me further.

The hand at the back of my head slips along my spine then down over the curve of my hip and further.

Fingers trace my outline through my skirt until, as they drop to the hem, they flip inside, flicking the skirt up and over my hips, displaying my pantied ass.

The fingers roam, gliding to my inner thighs, stroking down to my knees and up again....

“You smell of arousal,” whispers my Master, his voice all honey and curling smoke. I'm quivering, longing for the fingers to rise further, but they don't, simply painting lazy spirals on soft sensitive skin….

My Master, the man who can bring me to my knees with a look.

“Please.” My voice trembles.

“Please, what? This?”

A single finger rises to trace my panty line, the nail digging in, so slightly, to the skin of my thighs.

Where cotton meets skin, the finger traces a circuit sending sensation sizzling to my core.

I’m still trembling, but not from nervousness any more….

My panties are wet. My clit throbs. I want him.

“Please….”

“All in good time. Remember who is Master here.”

The finger trails fire over my skin, slipping over the lower line of my ass cheeks, travelling forward and down. There's a brief tug, a pinpoint of pain that dances to my core; a thumb and forefinger tugging at a stray hair, before the finger slips inside, winding through curls already damp.

“Master….”

“Yes, I think you’re ready for me now.” His voice is so soft. The finger withdraws and a hand plants itself between my shoulder-blades, pressing just for a moment….

Stay there….

From behind me; movement; fingers hook into my panties, tugging them down. “Step,” he says.

I lift one foot, then the other. Something rustles, then there is the rasp of a zipper. And finally, pressing at my entrance, my Master’s beautiful cock.

He lies almost over me again, his face again close to mine. “And I’m ready for you.”

Slowly, exquisitely, he enters me, his body inside mine. It’s so gradual, so gentle. There’s no thrust, only a smooth penetration as he fills me with himself.

I reach back with my head and he reaches forward, his cheek pressed against mine. I scent his musk, the aroma of the wine. A little stubble spikes against my softer skin.

He begins to move. It’s still slow, a leisurely rhythm that slips out, stretches in, slips out, stretches in. It feels so good….

And I want it to be good for him too. As he eases out of me, I tighten around him, then relax to let him enter again. He shudders and chuckles. “Good girl.” His voice rumbles through his chest, pressed against my spine.

He steps up his speed and force, lifting his weight away a little as he does so. One hand slides along my arm, fingers curling around mine where I grip the counter. The other slips down between my thighs to finger at my bud, now slippery and stiff.

He’s thrusting hard now, spearing into me, raising a gasp with every stroke. Clever fingers, busy fingers, work my clit, sending pleasure stabbing through to my core.

I would writhe if I could, buck and jump as his hips piston against mine, but I can’t. Instead, my gasps turn to moans, then to wails. And as he plunges into me harder each time, ramming home, my wails grow and meld and become one, long satisfying scream….

“Come for me,” he says.

The heat inside me blooms and grows, releasing a hot gush down my thighs.

“Come for me.”

The tension grows, spiralling tight, poised….

“Come for me.” His voice is fierce as he slams me inside. And with a final thrust, the dam breaks and my climax explodes free.

Pulsing and howling, I throw my head back, my throbbing pussy snatching at my Master’s flesh. He drops down over me, his fingers vising around mine as he groans and quivers, spilling into my clutching core.

My heart is banging, but so is his, his body covering me as we lie together. We descend from the skies, my breathing and his slowing once more to normal.

His face once more resting against mine, “How do you feel now?”

“Much better. Thank you, Master.”

He kisses my cheek. “My pleasure.”

*****

Forty-Two Years Ago Edward Haswell enters, hanging his coat on a nail at the back of the door.

His receptionist intercepts him as he strides towards his office, her voice low. “Mr Haswell, You have a visitor. Al Kimberley is waiting for you….” Haswell curses under his breath. “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to get him to go, but he insisted….”

He holds up a hand. “It’s alright, Linda. It’s not you I’m annoyed at.” He inhales deeply, then exhales just a deeply. “I’ve been expecting this and I’m not looking forward to it, but some things….”

“Do you want me to bring in coffee?”

“No, he’ll not be staying long.”

*****

The man waiting in his office is a pale reflection of the one Haswell first met. Even seated, he seems stooped. His face is deeply lined, almost haggard and there are dark shadows under his eyes.

As Haswell enters, Al Kimberley stands, offering his hand. Haswell accepts, shakes then gestures back to the seat. “Hello, Al.” He seats himself behind his desk. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

“No… er… no. Mr Haswell, thank you for agreeing to see me….”

“Did I agree to see you, Al? I arrived at my office and you were here.”

“I’m sorry…” Kimberley twists his hands. “I know things are difficult, but you don’t have to cut me out of the project….”

“I’m not cutting you out of anything Al. You’ve cut yourself out. You’re bankrupt.”

“That's my land, Mr Haswell.”

“No, Al, it's not. It's mine. Bought and paid for and I hold the title.”

“Please, Mr Haswell…. Edward…. I’ve put everything I have into that land. I'll buy it back at whatever you paid.”

Haswell, doodles on a pad, apparently thinking. “And how would you do that?”

“I can borrow the money. I’ll….”

“Al, you're insolvent. You can't borrow the money. There’s no legal way of lending it to you until the bankruptcy is discharged, one way or another.”

“I'll raise it somehow…. . It was all my idea. You know it was….”

Haswell closes his eyes, fingers pressed to his temple. “Al…. I can’t….”

“Mr Haswell…. You remember my little girl, Shelley? I was doing it for her. I wanted her to grow up with…. With all the things I didn’t have. And now…. Please…. I’m begging you.”

Haswell regards him, eyes lidded, for some time. Eventually, he says, “Alright Al. I'll be as fair as I can.

I don't need to touch the land for another three months. If in that time you can raise the cash to buy it back at what I just paid for it, you're back in. And we'll get the lawyers to figure a way around the bankruptcy issue until you're out of it. But if you've not paid me by the end of three months, that's it. I'm a businessman and I can't afford to let your problems become my problems. Understood?”

Al launches upright from his seat. “Thank you. Thank you!” He seizes Haswell’s hand, shaking it violently. “I won’t let you down. I promise. I’ll be back.”

“Three months from today, Al. Don’t forget that.”

The wreck of a man leaves, Haswell watching him go. “Linda, I’ll have that coffee now.” He looks down at her desk intercom. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes…. Is there anything you want me to do? For when he comes back?”

“No. We have a hiatus anyway while the permissions go through the bureaucrats. He gets his three months. But he’ll not be back.”