Chapter Fifteen

Douglas was trying to write another article on manifestation, but his concentration levels were low and he couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the other night. It hadn’t been clever getting found like that by Nathalie, and it certainly hadn’t been clever to alienate a pack of grubby Russian gangsters, either. He’d slept fitfully that night, then got up early and cycled down to the harbour to retrieve his car. He’d been surprised to find it intact, expecting the tyres to be slashed, and was relieved to have driven it home without incident.

He leaned back against his chair and cracked his knuckles. Now Nathalie knew more about him than he’d have liked. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexual activities, he just hadn’t wanted to broadcast them, either. But now, he imagined, he should lay off visiting the seafront and all its delights for a while. Good grief, he thought, sipping his coffee, thick and dark and brewed the Greek way, by all accounts Ginnie was ready to oblige, if he got that desperate. Were his wires getting crossed somehow? When he’d summoned the powers of the Universe he hadn’t expected them to deliver her.

And then there was the problem of Ludmilla. Silly cow, she was a hooker, for God’s sake; what did she expect, his everlasting fidelity? So he’d discovered the glorious Svetlana - that was entirely within his rights, being the client. What was she doing getting emotionally involved like that? Yes, perhaps, in a moment of weakness, he might have muttered something about beginning to have feelings for her, or about wanting to keep her all to himself or some such, but he certainly hadn’t expected to be taken seriously.

What was the point in paying a hooker if she was only going to get all emotional on you? You might as well get it for free. Their cold-hearted lack of involvement was the whole point. Had she truly believed he was going to liberate her from life on the streets? Marry her, make her respectable, introduce her to his family? Douglas chuckled at the idea. Silly, stupid, girl.

But why had Nathalie had to witness everything, what kind of trick was the Universe playing on him there? Might have spoiled his chances somewhat. Vlad the pimp couldn’t have given the best of impressions. Douglas felt a wave of anger and indignation rising up. It was a free country, for God’s sake! He was a paying customer! He had the right to go with whomever he chose. What did they take him for, a charity for ageing whores?

God, women. Douglas shook his head in mild despair. Too bloody complex by half. When even the hookers started to fall in-love, you knew things were going badly wrong. They had to know their place. Why bother with a relationship, when you could simply choose a willing Russian on the sea front? Buy her a few drinks, hand over some cash and spell out precisely what you wanted.

Sexual manifestation, in a manner of speaking, he thought, returning to his work. Douglas enjoyed that control.

***

Had he known about the events going on just two doors away from him, Douglas would have been astonished at the power of the Universe. An ecstatic Anna had gone to Nathalie’s the minute she saw her returning from her morning swim.

‘I couldn’t wait for this damned weekend to be over,’ she whispered as they embraced and began unfastening buttons, clumsily mounting the stairs where their bodies fell in a tangle on Nathalie’s bed, kissing and nipping and laughing. This time Anna took control, peeling off her lover’s clothes like a restorer removing unwanted layers of paint to reveal the most exquisite piece of art underneath. She kissed and licked Nathalie’s breasts, relishing the texture of her nipples against her lips and teeth, and then kissed her chest and flat stomach, her kisses getting more fevered as she neared her prize. Forcing herself to go more slowly, she’d raised one of Nathalie’s legs, taking her time to kiss the length of her calf and thigh, all the time stealing glances at the place she most wanted to sink her tongue, her fingers, her whole being. If Anna could have crawled up inside Nathalie’s cunt, she would. She wanted to possess her, to inhabit her, to be her.

Finally, when Nathalie’s own breaths became more hurried, she allowed herself to sink into her cunt, raising her lover’s buttocks and opening her labia, taking time to lick and suck every bit of her, to memorise her shape, her texture, her taste and her smell. When Nathalie came on her face Anna felt all-powerful, as if she was capable of anything. Never had pleasing another person meant so much to her, more than her own orgasm, and certainly more than it ever had with Richard. She fell back, her lover’s juices still sweet on her lips, and concentrated on the blood which was pumping furiously around her own sex, throbbing and demanding and begging for attention.

Nathalie knew precisely how to quell her. She climbed on top, placing her wet pussy above Anna’s face so that she could still admire it as Nathalie licked her to orgasm. Was there a more beautiful sight? Anna felt she could stare at it forever, as if she could prize open her folds and find pearls and gold dust in there. As Nathalie increased the pressure on her clit, she lowered herself so that now just her anus was visible, and Anna gazed at that gently puckered skin, dabbing at it with her tongue, marvelling at her lover’s lack of inhibition. As Anna’s tongue probed Nathalie’s anus, so Nathalie’s tongue pressed harder at her clit, and Anna came in an explosive rush, a swell, a need, a desire so great it was as if a tsunami of pleasure had swept across her, taking with it everything she’d once considered important and leaving her new and bare and clean and ready to rebuild her life.

The lovers lay there, pussies at each other’s faces, and Anna felt she could die of happiness. Never had she anticipated feeling like this. Not once had she seriously thought she’d ever fall so heavily for another woman. It was as if nothing and no-one else mattered. Having felt numb and bitter and tired for four long years now, she felt alive and awake and alert and renewed. She imagined joining Nathalie for her morning swims, and making love in the waves, tasting the salt water in each other’s pussies, before emerging, Aphrodite-like, out of the foam.

‘Why don’t we go to the pool?’ Nathalie suggested, breaking the reverie. ‘A cool dip to cleanse ourselves?’

Anna agreed, although a part of her wanted to stay like that all afternoon, her skin covered in oils and smells and tastes, but minutes later they were swimming gentle lengths, two friends sharing some afternoon leisure, as if nothing was untoward. They climbed out and settled on two sun loungers, shaded by a generous umbrella.

Anna, feeling an overwhelming sense of well-being, dozed gently, the soft breeze on her skin. She loved knowing that her lover was by her side, and that her body had to be feeling the same sense of wellness. If they could spend the rest of the summer like this, making love, swimming and lying in the sun, then her life would seem perfect. She turned to admire Nathalie. How easy it was, being together. Had Nathalie been a man the neighbours would start getting suspicious, but as it was, no-one thought anything of it. They were two friends who enjoyed spending time together. Where was the harm? And somehow, it didn’t feel as if she was even being unfaithful.

Anna closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off.

***

At number three, Ginnie peered out of her kitchen window to see Richard arriving home and greeting his wife and Nathalie by the pool. It was a scene that made her want to rush down and join them all, in the hope that someone would open a bottle of wine and then Barry would fire up a barbecue and a spontaneous party would erupt. Ginnie had loved those evenings, but reminded herself they were a thing of the past.

She’d finished or poured away every last bottle in the house now, as her dependence had begun to revolt her. Now, her gleaming new juicer stood on the kitchen surface, and all around her were bags of peaches, bananas, red fruits and melons. This was going to be her evening treat from now on, a freshly-squeezed smoothie. She checked the recipe again and added more orange juice, before whizzing the blend up. A couple of ice cubes in a beautiful glass, and she was ready to go. Ginnie took a sip. It was delicious, and she didn’t miss the kick of alcohol at all. She really didn’t. Sitting at her dining room table, she flipped through the copy of Grazia that she’d removed from the upstairs loo. There’d be no reading up there from now on, she’d decided, determined to fix Derek for once and for all. Ginnie took another sip.

She peered out of the window. Would Richard be joining Anna? She needed to pick his brain about corporate sponsorship, and she fancied a bit of company at the same time. It would be good for her to be sociable and sober. She took another sip of her smoothie, before deciding to go upstairs and change.

***

Richard emerged wearing his swimming trunks and returned to the pool, where he found Anna and Nathalie just as he’d left them, snoozing idly in the late afternoon sun. He’d stopped off at a club that wanted financing on his way home, and had found the place depressing and oppressive - lowering himself into the cool water he realised how badly he needed to wash the stench of stale booze and tobacco away. Richard loathed night clubs. He’d only been to a few, but hated having to shout out above the music and couldn’t dance without looking like someone’s dad. At his age, he’d thought he’d seen the end of them, but then the boys had dragged him out to one on his stag night. Oh God, not that, please not that, he recoiled, trying to block out the memory.

That was where it had all started, at the FoxyChick on Damstraat, and life had never been the same again.

Richard shoved that thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on doing thirty lengths in the pool; penitence, good for both his body and mind. He had to turn his life around. How easy it would be just to arrive home, head straight to the fridge and pull open a can of beer as normal. Just thinking about it made Richard fill with longing. But that was the old Richard of yesterday; the new one had discipline and structure in his life. Only once he’d completed those lengths would he allow himself a beer. Thirty lengths this week, forty next, fifty the week after that.

He paced himself so as not to lose his breath. By the eighth length he was beginning to feel good about his new regime, by the fifteenth he was revelling in being half way, by the twenty-fifth he started relishing the idea that it was nearly over, and by the thirtieth he was positively exhausted. But he’d done it! He’d achieved something! He climbed out and began to towel-dry himself off.

But then came a voice he dreaded. ‘Richard, just the man I need to speak to.’ Ginnie, wearing a yellow caftan, bombed round the pool to greet him. ‘I need to pick your brains,’ she started, a defiant look in her eyes. ‘About corporate Cyprus. Sponsorship, that kind of thing.’

‘Well, I’m not sure that I can really help you,’ he started hesitantly as he spotted Anna sitting up attentively.

‘You know what’s going on in this place. I need help.’

‘Help with what, Ginnie?’ Anna asked.

‘Tiggles, of course. I need to start a campaign to encourage people to neuter their toms. There’s far too much feline aids being transmitted, and it’s got to stop. Only the other day we had to put down two sufferers, and it’s just not fair. So I want to launch a campaign, but I’ve got to get a backer somehow. Some company or other with the same objectives, a company which wants to do some good in this world and not just sit on fat profits all the time.’

Richard sighed. She was preventing him from getting that beer he so justly deserved. ‘And who did you have in mind?’ He started making for his house.

‘That’s just it, I can’t come up with anyone,’ Ginnie replied persistently, following him. ‘But you know what’s going on, you know who’s investing in what, which companies are open to philanthropic issues. You must surely have some idea?’

Richard stopped, not having a clue what to say next. Who did she think he was, George Soros? ‘I’m sorry, Ginnie, I really don’t think I can help you. Most of the companies I come into contact with are looking for finance themselves. I’m hardly in a position to - ‘

He was interrupted by the arrival of Tanya, wearing an elegant summer dress and towering sandals. Her hair was thick and shiny and backcombed to look fuller, and she wore an oversized pair of sunglasses on the tip of her nose.

‘You’re looking very lovely,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, Richard. Been for a swim, have you? Getting yourself fit?’

‘That’s right. And now I’m off for a beer to undo all my good work.’ Richard snatched the chance to escape.

Nathalie sat up now, admiring Tanya’s elegance. And suddenly she had an idea.

‘Why not a property developer, like Odyssey?’ she suggested. ‘If they’re investing millions in developing upmarket new complexes, they probably wouldn’t want the place crawling with cats, now, would they? Wouldn’t it be in their interests to sponsor a neutering campaign?’

Ginnie turned to Nathalie in amazement, as if she’d just kicked a locked door wide open. ‘Why have I never thought of that? Nathalie, you’re a genius! And Tanya, we’ve got to talk!’