Janie woke up with her heart pounding, as if someone had startled her or she had something urgent to do. She had barely slept all night, despite being exhausted. Her mind raced and her body tossed and turned. The rain had eased off in the night, and for a short while the silence had started to relax her. She thought about serious sunbathing and swimming, of the summer really beginning, but here was the rain again, cats and dogs, casting a dull light over the growing day.
She was in Ben’s huge bedroom with its whitewashed brickwork and dark beams crisscrossing the ceiling and walls. Lying like a starfish under the snowy duvet, she could briefly pretend that she was waking up to a normal seaside visit, just like every other time she had been down here: quiet, uneventful, usually solitary. If she tilted her head she could see the willow tree through the low window, and beyond it the hedge bordering the farm. Was Farmer Giles asleep in the ramshackle farmhouse, or was he staying in the grand Art Deco hotel up the coast, towelling himself after a shower and stuffing those spectacles onto his nose to brood over a sheaf of building plans? Had he and Maddock had a good laugh about her last night in the pub? Very probably. She curled her legs up, prickling with humiliation. The starkest picture she had from yesterday was of Maddock’s penis leaping and spunking down her throat, his hands warm and gnarled on her hair. She remembered her own fierce rush of triumph at successfully sucking him off. Then there was the weird knowledge that Sally had been sitting in the room with them, unusually quiet, watching it all. But she didn’t want to dwell on any of that. It had all come too fast after her encounter in the barn. Or maybe it was that very first bout of sexual contact for ages that had made it all happen with Maddock; made her permanently insatiable. That was what she wanted to revel in as her toes stretched to the end of the bed. Her sexual re-awakening at the hands of the handsome farmer.
There was a slight bump from the attic above her. She waited for more: the sound of footsteps, Sally getting out of bed. Janie tensed. She didn’t want to talk to Sally; she didn’t want to talk to anyone just now. But thankfully there were no more bumps. Sally would have turned over and gone back to sleep, hopefully. God knows what she would be dreaming of, but one thing was for sure: Sally would be seeing her mate Janie in a whole new light after yesterday.
She flung the duvet aside and got up. It was still only eight. She pulled on a tight T-shirt and her bleach-spattered dungarees and creaked down the wooden stairs. She was sure they were listing more violently than last year. Ben always said that subsidence in a remote place like this didn’t bother him. If the cottage collapsed one day, he would simply bulldoze it all and build another one.
Janie wanted to be busy. She picked up the cushions which had been left scattered on the floor the previous night and dropped them at random onto the sofa and chairs. There was a faint smell of wood-smoke in the room, and Janie found that her eyes were pinned to the spot on the floor where Maddock had jammed her face into his crotch and she had sucked on his cock like it was going out of fashion.
‘I should go back to bed,’ she muttered to herself, yanking the chairs and sofa round into some semblance of sociable positioning. But then she thought of Sally, still asleep, who had sat back and watched her sucking Maddock off. Worse, she had seen her frisking herself with her own fingers. She had seen Janie with her tits out and shoved in a strange man’s face. And Janie had let herself into the cottage and seen Sally right in front of her, coiled round Maddock as if he was a tree trunk, and rutting with him all over the hearthrug. What kind of holiday was this turning out to be?
Janie picked up the cushions all over again to plump them up, and saw one of her paintbrushes dropped there. As she dropped it into her pocket she started to flush, thinking again of Maddock and his big boots and his swinging bull’s balls and his muddy fingernails and sharp teeth. She knew his rough edges were right up Sally’s street, but she couldn’t deny that Maddock had pulled her into some pretty explosive action as well, made her do things she had never tried before, nor even had time to contemplate with her Farmer Giles. Her breasts ached this morning, and she had bruises on her hips and knees. There would also be scratches on her back from the straw. The farmer had been gorgeous and warm, and almost gentlemanly, considering what they were doing. She wanted to think about him, but his face and body kept merging with Maddock’s in her tired brain.
This morning there were no men, no Land Rovers, no barn doors and shovels scraping. Just the dripping of the rain off the thatch, and the grandfather clock ticking loudly in the hall. She punched a button on the radio to let the idle chatter of the DJ distract her, then went into the kitchen, set the coffee pot on the go and began preparing to sand down the cupboards.
‘Dressing like Andy Pandy isn’t going to disguise what you did last night,’ remarked Sally suddenly from behind her.
‘I thought you were asleep,’ mumbled Janie, scraping furiously. ‘Coffee’s on. I’ve got work to do.’
Sally pushed past her, yawning. Her matted blonde hair stuck up at the back like a baby’s, and she was wearing one of Ben’s striped office shirts.
‘That’s Ben’s shirt. Didn’t you bring your own?’ said Janie.
‘Found it in my bathroom. He won’t know. I was cold in the night. What’s it to you, anyway, misery guts?’
‘Nothing. Just that we’re staying here partly as guests. Doesn’t mean we can just make free with all his things.’
‘Bit late to start worrying about all that,’ said Sally, hitching herself up on the bar-stool beside the fridge, and reaching for the cups. All was silent and a little awkward until the coffeepot began to sputter and hiss. Sally slid lazily off her stool and poured herself and Janie some coffee and added three sugars for herself. She stirred and kept stirring until Janie stopped sanding her cupboard and looked round.
‘That’s better,’ said Sally, who had been watching her. She crossed her ankles, pulling the shirt as far down her thighs as it would go. She had white fluffy socks on. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what’s eating you? As if I couldn’t guess?’
Janie started ripping at the edges of her bit of sandpaper, but shrugged.
‘If I’ve done something wrong, just tell me,’ said Sally. ‘This is the first morning of our glorious holiday. We don’t have to fall out, do we?’
Janie shook her head, still concentrating on the sandpaper she held. She wished her mate would put some jeans on, or knickers at least.
‘Two things are wrong here, I reckon,’ said Sally, slurping her coffee and shifting back onto the stool. Her bare buttocks squeaked on the seat. ‘One, we both went over the top last night, exposing ourselves to each other like that, not to mention giving our all to that Maggot, or whatever his name is.’
‘Maddock.’
Janie blushed scarlet again, and even Sally clapped her free hand over her mouth at the name. Then she snorted coffee down her nose as she started to laugh, and that started Janie off as well. She plonked down her sandpaper, picked up her coffee, and leaned against the sink.
‘And we weren’t even particularly pissed!’ she said, relaxing some more.
‘Er, speak for yourself. I was bladdered. In fact, that makes your behaviour far worse than mine, if you were supposedly sober! That’s the funny thing.’ Sally wiped her nose.
‘So I’m the pot and you’re the kettle.’
They laughed again, and then just as abruptly stopped. Both stared at the floor, obviously remembering some of the really intimate details.
‘Sort of a case of, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine!’
‘Alright, Sal. I’m sorry. I think that’s it. If I’m completely honest, fantasising about hot sex with a guy is one thing, especially after my years in the wilderness –’
‘Certainly the wilderness down here.’
‘But seeing your mate at it, all her bits –’
‘Well, much as I love you, I wasn’t ready for that,’ said Janie. ‘And I wasn’t ready for you pushing me into it with that Maddock.’
‘We led the horse to the water, and it drank! You came into the room with that Wild Woman of Borneo look. I could tell you were up for it, even if you didn’t know it yourself. And Maddock could smell it a mile off, even though he doesn’t know you.’
‘But I can’t believe I did it – did something – with Maddock of all people! His dad used to scare us shitless when we were kids.’
‘Well, it wasn’t his dad, was it? This Maddock was like a bull in a brothel. He’d have gone on all night if we’d persuaded him.’
‘Do bulls go on all night?’
They creased with laughter again.
‘So am I forgiven for leading you astray?’ asked Sally, sliding off the stool and pouring some more coffee. ‘Though you’ve got just as much of the dirty slapper in you.’
‘I’ll forgive you if you go and get dressed. I don’t think I can take any more naked bottoms. I just want to get back to normal.’
‘But what the devil shall I wear? Versace, or West-wood? We’re not going anywhere, are we? Look at the pissing rain.’
They both peered out of the kitchen windows and sighed.
‘You can wear something suitable for cooking,’ said Janie. ‘That’s what you can do today, while I’m stripping these cupboards.’
‘And I’ve got just the dish.’ Sally picked up her coffee cup and started to stump towards the stairs.
‘What’s that?’ Janie called out.
‘Great. And I like it with plenty of shepherds in, please.’
Janie opened the back door to let some air in while she got out the white spirit. A brisk breeze and a handful of rain nipped in and slapped her round her hot face, and she closed her eyes. Today was going to be good, after all. Despite propping the door open while she cleaned the cupboards with the white spirit, it still made her feel light-headed. She left the cupboards to dry, and went into the little room.
‘Today’s a work day, madam,’ chided Sally from behind her. ‘No slacking.’
Janie turned round. Sally was wearing nothing but some expensive French knickers and a camisole, all topped off with a ruffled floor-length cook’s pinafore which she had tied in a huge bow at the small of her back.
‘Get the fire going, and then you’re going to dress up as well,’ she said, and Sally dropped Mastov’s negligee over her friend’s head. Janie let the silk slide lasciviously over her hair and cheeks. It barely made a sound as it merged with her own skin.
‘I’m supposed to paint the kitchen cupboards wearing this?’
‘Well, I’m supposed to fill your freezer wearing this.’ Sally sketched a little curtsey, nearly tripping over the pinny. ‘Now, show us yer onions.’
‘In the little pantry thing. Now, first the undercoat, then the petticoat.’
They changed the radio station to one playing constant music, and got to work. After fuelling themselves with toast and marmite, Sally began preparing the lunch. The aroma of onions soon filled the kitchen as Sally chopped and peeled the vegetables and got under Janie’s feet. Both the girls started sniffing and wiping their eyes at the combined effect of paint and onions, and Janie had to fling the back door open again.
‘Get the mince sizzling, and then come out of there,’ she instructed Sally, feeling quite peculiar and walking through to the sitting room. ‘My head is spinning with all the fumes.’
She twiddled the poker in the grate and picked up Sally’s negligee. Quickly she stepped out of her dungarees and T-shirt and dropped the garment over her head. It slithered down her body, making her shiver with its cool touch. She looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. The light from the flames leaped over her features. The creamy silk looked good, bringing out a slight flush in her own pale skin, but her bra looked too hefty under the delicate spaghetti straps. It totally detracted from the design of the bodice.
She glanced into the kitchen. Sally was dipping her little finger into the mince and sucking it. She frowned, then picked up the jumbo tube of tomato purée and squeezed it bang in the middle, letting a long red snake wriggle out into the steaming mixture. The tip of Sally’s tongue was trapped between her teeth as she watched the purée’s journey into the mince. Janie reckoned she could guess what was going through her friend’s mind as she flicked one last drop of purée from the tube’s nozzle and licked it off her finger.
At least she was engrossed, thought Janie, and she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. The negligee was so well cut that the bodice clung to her ribs and stretched tight across her stomach, forming a natural support for her breasts. At the same time, the constant slippery touch of the silk wandering across her nipples made them stiffen, and her tits firmed up in response so that they rode higher on her ribcage. She stretched her arms above her head, coiling her hair up, then let everything drop and turned to look over her shoulder. The back of the negligee was cut right down to the twin dimples above her bum.
‘Get in here and taste this, Janie!’ called Sally. ‘I reckon we could live on shepherd’s pie and Chardonnay all week!’
Janie glided into the kitchen, and Sally whistled.
‘I told you it would suit you better than me. You look like a princess. You even hold yourself better when you’re wearing that.’
Janie flicked her hair over her shoulder like a Hollywood starlet and blew Sally a kiss. Then the two of them bent over the bubbling, meaty mixture on the Aga.
‘This reminds me of Paris,’ said Sally, slurping on her wooden spoon. ‘Jonathan and I went to this restaurant one evening, and they invited us into the kitchens. He knew the chef, or something.’
‘A friend of Mastov, perhaps?’
‘Very likely. My God, very likely. That Mastov has fingers in all sorts of pies. As I’ve already discovered.’
They laughed, and Janie watched while Sally mashed the potatoes.
‘We ate so much in Paris, but the food and wine was so good it just made me feel full and horny, rather than full and bloated. It’s no wonder we had to shag at least three times a night.’
‘Don’t make out you’re suddenly some sort of gourmet,’ objected Janie, helping to fork the buttery mash over the meat. ‘It was just his incredibly long dick that kept you at it, you said.’
‘How do you open these old-fashioned oven doors, then?’
Again they bent over in front of the Aga, Janie holding the heavy door open while Sally heaved the enormous pie dish inside. Warm air wafted out of the oven at the same time as cold air whistled over their backsides.
‘Two Thin Ladies. I like it.’
Sally cursed as she slammed her finger in the door. Janie knocked her head against a cupboard as she straightened, leaving a dash of white undercoat on her hair.
A tall, fair man dressed in impeccable tweeds and cashmere was leaning in the doorway, arms folded and looking them both up and down. Suddenly Janie felt quite girlish and awkward.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ exploded Sally, turning on the kitchen tap full blast to run water over her finger. ‘Does no one ever knock around here?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied the visitor calmly, stepping into the kitchen and shutting the wind and rain out. He walked past her and untied the big bow at her back so that her pinafore fell limply down in front of her. ‘Cute butt, as ever. This the new style of television chef? Linguini in lingerie? Knocking it up in knickers?’
It was the first time Janie had ever seen Sally lost for words. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, and then she yanked the pinafore over her head and hurled it to the floor.
‘Just what the fuck –’
‘Language, in front of ladies,’ he said, stopping in front of Janie. ‘You always did have a mouth like a sewer. Now then, let’s remember our manners. Good morning.’
He took Janie’s hand, twirled her round once, then kissed her fingers, watching her all the time with navy-blue eyes. Janie couldn’t see past his shoulder, but she could hear Sally making rude puking noises. The man just smiled, still holding Janie’s eyes, and he waltzed her slowly backwards into the sitting room. The silk floated round her legs and, although she couldn’t dance like Sally, her body felt fluid as she moved. He twirled her round again, and her arms flew out as she spun.
‘I didn’t think you’d leave those mean streets totally of your own accord, Sally. Now I see how you were persuaded to come out to the country, to the back of beyond,’ he called out, lowering Janie down on the sofa and walking over to the CD player. ‘And now I’ve seen your delectable friend, it’s no wonder you never brought her to meet the lads in the City.’
‘She wouldn’t want to come to the City to meet odious creeps like you. I wouldn’t want her breathing the same air.’
Janie had seen Sally riled, but never like this. She was motionless with fury, her fists clenched by her sides, her small face tight with loathing.
‘But your friend – sorry, your name?’
‘Er, Jane. Janie.’
‘Jane, you look as if you could perfectly well choose which air you breathe, without Sally’s protection. She’s just a little upset, that’s all.’
Sally sprang at him then, unable to contain herself. She literally wrapped her fingers and nails round his neck, her bare legs round his middle, and hung onto him. Janie jumped back. Sally was drawing blood from the man’s cheek.
‘Sally, what’s going on? You two know each other?’
The man laughed, a deep, cold laugh, and unpeeled Sally’s frantic limbs from around his ribs. He tossed her easily over to the other armchair, where she landed on all fours like a cat.
‘The devil. We were talking of the devil,’ spat Sally, brushing her hair off her face. ‘And he’s appeared. How did you know I was hiding in this cottage?’
‘This is Jonathan Dart? The man from Paris? The bastard who shafted you?’
They didn’t answer her. They were now too busy circling one another. Or rather, Sally was stepping round him as if he might scorch her.
‘Maddock told me where you were. We got talking in the pub last night. He told me all about it, in fact. I knew, from his description of what this floozy was doing with a paintbrush, that it was my Sally. Nothing’s secret, or sacred, around here. Although I didn’t recognise the description of the “posh bitch” who was here with you. I gather you give great head, Jane.’
‘What paintbrush?’ asked Janie, glancing round at her decorating stuff.
‘You’ll have to show her. Cracking stuff, apparently, so Maddock told me.’ Jonathan winked at Sally, and she raised her fists again.
‘You two must have business to sort out,’ Janie muttered, standing up and elbowing her way round Jonathan, who had barely shifted his position in front of her, despite the attack from Sally. He caught hold of one of Janie’s wrists.
‘Business can wait. It can always wait, can’t it, Sally? I’ve seen something I’d far rather explore.’
‘You can keep your hands off Janie for a start!’ screamed Sally, launching herself at him again.
‘Hello? Anybody there? I was just looking for – whoa, cowboys, what’s going on in here?’
As Jonathan lurched sideways, Janie saw her farmer entering the room, pushing his glasses up his nose and tipping his cap back on his head. Her stomach lurched and she kneeled up on the sofa where she’d fallen in the scuffle. She found it was impossible not to move seductively in the negligee, and already Jonathan’s dubious attention had flattered her into life.
‘It’s you!’ she breathed, at a loss for anything else to say, and Jonathan and Sally both stopped fighting. Sally dropped off his shoulders like a discarded wrap, and skidded across the room. The two men looked huge, and she looked tiny.
‘It’s like bloody Piccadilly Circus here today!’ she cried, delighted. She pulled on the farmer’s sleeve, and he came to stand by the fire. ‘Come in, come in. Just in time to interrupt actual bloodshed. Perhaps you could get rid of this reprobate for us. He’s not welcome.’
‘It didn’t look like that to me,’ the farmer remarked, taking off his glasses to polish off the steam. ‘Looked like you were all getting on famously. What’s going on, Jonathan?’
‘Nothing, Jack, all under control. Did you know you had wildcats for neighbours?’
Janie and Sally gaped stupidly round. The aroma of shepherd’s pie began to permeate the room, and somebody’s stomach rumbled. Both the men started to laugh.
‘Do you mind if I find my way round your drinks cabinet?’ the farmer asked Sally. Janie fumed. It wasn’t Sally’s drinks cabinet. ‘I think we all need to start again.’
‘Well, I’d be very glad to start again,’ Sally said loudly, leading him into the kitchen to find some wine. ‘Just not with Mr Dart, here. Can you get rid of him for me? I swore I’d kill him last time I saw him.’
‘Not my place to get into your argument. In any case, I couldn’t possibly chuck him out of here. For one thing, it’s not my house. And for another, it turns out we both own properties close by, which makes us neighbours. Life in the country is known for its hospitality. I’m sure your friend told you all about that when she came back with the logs last night?’
‘Do you know, she didn’t say a word when she came back with the logs. Why? Did you bump into each other last night? What happened?’
He started to reply, but they must have moved to the other end of the kitchen, because now Janie could barely hear what they were saying, and, anyway, Jonathan was sitting beside her on the sofa and looking at her again with those unwavering eyes. He placed a hand on her thigh.
‘Do you mind? I adore the feel of expensive fabric.’
The silk wrinkled up her leg, ruffling over her fine hairs, and she caught her breath.
‘You know him?’ asked Janie. ‘The farmer?’
‘In the end everyone gets to know everyone else around here, even us weekenders.’
‘That’s just what he was saying.’
‘That’s Jack. He’s just bought the farm over the way.’
Janie tried to crane past him to look into the kitchen and hear what they were saying in there, but she could only hear muffled voices and then the familiar sound of Sally’s throaty chuckle. She might as well have had a megaphone to tell the world, I’m on the pull here.
‘Let her get on with it. He’ll have trouble resisting if she’s got the throttle out, believe me. But she’ll be crawling back in a minute. Did you hear what I just said?’
‘Yes, you said Jack. Ben’s friend, Jack? Ugly Jack? Jack from my childhood?’
‘Could be. He was saying he used to play around here as a kid. Said he’d bumped into an old friend just yesterday. Was that you?’
For some reason Janie’s eyes welled up. The pictures jerked across her mind’s eye like an old cine film. Not the wigwam fantasies, although she could ‘Jack’ those up easily enough, but the real pictures: the grubby boys and the irritating little girl always trying to join in.
‘Pushed you around, did they, as kids?’
She turned her eyes on Jonathan. He was too smooth and sophisticated for Janie’s taste, and had seriously damaged Sally’s prospects, but he had a way about him that was hypnotising. She understood how he had got through Sally’s defences. He seemed to be looking right into Janie’s mind; perhaps it wasn’t so difficult, particularly if Jack had already told him all about their escapades as kids, and their adventure in the hay barn, but to have five minutes of this man’s total attention was mesmerising.
She heard a scuffle and a cough in the kitchen and, as her eyes darted sideways to see what was going on, Jonathan caught her chin in his hand and kept her face in front of him.
‘Little boys are all the same. That’s how I know. They can be smelly and horrible, especially to little girls.’
‘He said he knew me, when I met him yesterday. But I didn’t recognise him. I thought it was just a line.’
‘If I’d spent my childhood climbing up trees and scampering across cornfields with someone like you, I wouldn’t forget, either. So he’s not such an idiot.’
Jonathan’s fingers were gentle on her face, and Janie couldn’t turn away. She shifted on her legs, and it brought her closer to him. The silk of the negligee moved across her skin, echoing his fingers, and rustled. He heard it, too, because the hand that was on her thigh tightened, and moved slowly upwards, taking the material with it, up towards her hip and baring more and more of her leg.
There was silence from the kitchen now. Despite the warmth that was stealing through her under this man’s fingers, Janie wanted to know what they were doing. She didn’t want Sally getting her paws on Jack. She heard the kitchen table leg scrape on the flagstones, and the sound of a wine bottle being put down on the counter.
‘She’s playing a game to annoy us both,’ Jonathan hissed, again reading Janie’s mind. ‘Both of them want both of us but, you see, their plan is about to backfire.’
Janie relaxed a little, and turned back to him. While he had been speaking the silk had rustled all the way up and over her hip, leaving it pale and gleaming in the dull wet light. He left the material draped there, and let his hand wander further on, underneath it, over her warm stomach, across to the other hip, then back to her stomach, where it paused. Janie tensed, staring at his face but seeing, from the corner of her eye, his hand spread across her hidden skin. She arched away from him slightly and, as one breast brushed against his cashmere sleeve, her nipples sparked into life.
‘That’s more like it,’ he said. ‘You may look like some uptight princess, but you’re hot, aren’t you? A little like Sally, but you keep it well hidden.’
As if in answer the kitchen door swung shut, either kicked that way or blown by the draught from the back door. Now they were completely separated from the other two.
Janie didn’t want to think of Sally’s little tits pressing against her farmer; pressing against Jack. He was Janie’s Jack. She’d seen him first. She wanted him to fuck her again. She didn’t want him entering that soft golden bush and groaning over Sally’s triumphant little body.
‘She doesn’t want me to have you, either, you know, but we’re going to teach her a lesson. It’s not why I came here this morning, but it’ll work just as well to bring her to heel.’
‘What do you mean?’ Janie had one ear cocked towards the kitchen while his words purred into the other ear.
‘I mean they’ll be more interested in us once they see how well we’re getting on without them.’
‘We should just use each other, you mean?’
His even features opened into a smile and, although Janie could see it was the smile of a man used to getting his own way, her own mouth started to curve up in comprehension. She liked the sound of her own voice, saying something so calculating, cynical, almost. She was learning to play this game. Learning either to pretend to be someone else, or learning to let loose the cooler Janie lurking just beneath the surface.
‘Honey –’ he chuckled ‘– tell me, is this really such a chore?’
All the while his fingers had never stopped swiping and stroking across her hips and stomach, never going higher or lower. That entire area of her skin was alive and singing with his touch, and warm, as if it was accustomed to this attention. Her body relaxed, folding into itself, but her mind still kept darting through that kitchen door.
‘Don’t look so anxious,’ urged Jonathan. ‘Can’t have that kind of tension when I’m around.’
No wonder he’d gotten inside Sally’s knickers quicker than you could say ‘elastic’. He was like one of those horse whisperers. A woman whisperer. He got them where he wanted them. But she wouldn’t wait around for the nasty side of him. She just needed him for this moment, to transport her away from the image of Sally wriggling up to Jack, teasing or even mocking him into submission, seducing him so that he had no choice but to ram up inside her.
‘What are they doing in there?’ asked Janie.
There was definitely something, a groan or a sigh, and they both heard Sally’s high giggle – the one that signalled she was in for the kill.
‘Not making apple pie, that’s for sure,’ remarked Jonathan.
Janie frowned, turning her face this way and that, but Jonathan just kept on watching her, and surreptitiously pulled the silk garment up her body so that more and more of her became visible.
‘She’ll have her tongue down his throat by now,’ Jonathan crooned. ‘She’s not always known for her subtlety.’
Janie’s lips parted in dismay, but he prevented her from speaking by brushing his dry lips across her mouth; not exactly kissing her, but leaving his taste on her lips to silence her, and it worked. He had an expensive, sharp smell about him that spiked the air around them both. Janie closed her eyes, and tried to persuade herself that it was just the two of them on the sofa, just the two of them in the cottage.
‘He’ll be making a feeble attempt to push her away, get back in here, but he’ll be getting hard, despite his desire for you. She’s very skilled at that.’
Jonathan dropped his hand from Janie’s face and brought it to her hip, so that now he had both her hips cradled in his hands. Despite her jealousy Janie’s own body couldn’t help responding to the constant sweeping of his fingertips. That fidgety warmth that she had felt yesterday, listening to Sally’s story, was back in earnest, the little muscles around her fanny tightening involuntarily and a definite moisture slicking from inside her.
‘And she’ll be unable to wait for long, once she’s turned on. She’ll be creaming herself by now, I expect, especially knowing that we’re next door, that we could barge in at any moment. She’ll be rubbing herself up against him. He may be resisting still, but it won’t work. She’ll see that he’s a bit of a gentleman, a bit shy, not like me, and she’ll make him touch her, feel her wetness through those French knickers, which, incidentally, I bought for her in Paris.’
‘What a naughty thought!’ gasped Janie, biting her lip and shifting on the sofa without realising what she was doing. ‘Wearing a gift from you while she’s making out with him.’
‘Honey, you’re getting the idea. A quick learner.’
‘And this negligee is not mine. It’s something she was given –’ Janie couldn’t resist adding her own little piece of spite ‘– by another man, last weekend.’
‘Really?’ It was Jonathan’s turn to be put out, but only briefly. He smiled again. ‘Better and better, though I can’t imagine her wearing it. While you look as if you were born to drift about wearing white gossamer.’
Just then one of the kitchen chairs fell over with a crash. There was an exclamation from one of them, followed by the heavy double thump of bodies falling onto a wooden surface.
‘Didn’t take them long, did it? She’ll have just removed that lovely underwear. Perhaps she’ll be fingering herself; men like to see that. She won’t be able to wait, though, and nor will he, not once that cute bush of hers is on display. Any man with red blood in his veins would be unable to resist her powers of persuasion, and she’s on a mission this morning.’
‘Don’t tell me any more,’ pleaded Janie. ‘Let’s just show them, like you said.’
He lifted her body across his tweed lap, shifting himself so that she was straddling him with her back to the kitchen. He continued to run his hands up and down her sides, underneath the silk, and she held her breath, waiting for the moment when they would make contact with her tits. She could feel the acorn-hard nipples making points through the thin fabric, riding high and hard on her round, eager breasts, and now everything was level with his face. It was only a matter of time before he touched them. The sharp sensations already slicing through her were too strong to ignore. It was as though she was constantly on the boil, or at the very least simmering, like Sally had said. It was as if, just under the surface, the basic urges that had been awakened in her yesterday were waiting to be jump-started each time someone came near her who even looked at her in a certain way. Not just that, but she realised, after five minutes with this guy, that just by the way she dressed or moved, just allowing a tiny shift in her attitude, her body was bursting with more promise than she had ever dreamed of. She couldn’t stop now, no matter who or how many friends or enemies might be rutting away in the kitchen.
She arched herself away from him, revelling in this new, constant sexiness that crawled all over her skin. She was learning to tease herself into the bargain. As his hands were busy under her legs, undoing his trousers, she brought her own hands up and started kneading her breasts through the slippery silk. She loved the feeling of fabric on skin, pushing her big mounds together so that their nipples stood out, then releasing them so that they bounced apart, and fondling them again. Jonathan’s eyes were still on her face, and that only excited her more. Her own hands on her breasts, touching them through the silk, was utterly delicious, and she wanted to make him touch her. Her breath came more quickly, and her hands worked faster and rougher on her breasts until she found her buttocks starting to gyrate on his knee. But although she was enjoying it, she forced herself to release them. She grabbed the back of the sofa, resting her forearms on either side of his shoulders, and pulled herself up so that she was raised a couple of inches above his groin. By kneeling up like this her tits were in front of his nose. Her pussy could wait. They were frozen in that position for a moment, challenging each other to move first, then, supporting herself on her knees so that her thighs started to shake with the effort, Janie hooked her fingers under the spindly straps of the negligee and flung her arms free so that the white silk spilled down her torso and settled around her waist.
‘He’ll have his trousers round his ankles by now and she’ll be totally naked and spread out on the table like a ploughman’s lunch. He won’t be able to help himself, he’ll be pushing his fingers into her cunt while she wriggles about and traps him between those dancer’s thighs of hers. She’ll be glancing at the door, mark my words. She’s just as anxious as you.’
‘I said, no more.’
At last Jonathan’s eyes snapped obediently down to the glorious cleavage in front of him. His hands roved up and grabbed her bare flesh, and he pulled her body towards him so that slowly he could slide his face inside the warm cleavage. Janie held herself very still, once again holding the back of the sofa. She arched her bottom right away from his crotch so that she couldn’t even feel what was there, although her pussy felt as if it was being dragged towards a magnet, the tiny muscles around her cunt grasping at the anticipated pleasure like mini tentacles.
Then the foot of one of the kitchen table legs started squeaking. There was a pause, then the table leg started to shift, rhythmically, across its square patch of tiled floor.
‘She’s pulling him into her, that greedy little pussy of hers, the golden curls parting to drag him in.’
Janie was split in two, one half of her poised over the promise of her own ecstasy in the shape of Sally’s ex-lover, the other half desperate at the thought of Jack being goaded and pleasured out there in the kitchen. Sally didn’t even know who he was. She didn’t know that only a few hours earlier he had been inside Janie, shoving her across the hay bale with the force of his screwing just like he was shoving Sally across the kitchen table.
‘She’s getting her evil way,’ remarked Jonathan softly. ‘She’ll be on her back on the kitchen table, she’s always liked hard surfaces, and she’ll have her legs wrapped round him like a limpet.’
Before the picture could lodge itself in Janie’s brain, Jonathan licked at the heated flesh of her breasts. She threw her head back, and pushed herself harder against his face. His tongue flicked over one stiff nipple, then across to the other, darting like a snake’s. Stabs of desire shot directly from her nipples to the opening of her pussy, tightening the furrow there as her knees weakened.
She pushed the back of his head towards her, forcing his mouth harder onto one aching nipple. His lips and teeth closed slowly round it, the pressure to bite increasing little by little. She fell against him and his teeth got a grip and pulled the nipple into his mouth. At last, he was sucking, his tongue flicking and circling. Then he was moving to the other nipple, and Janie was sinking her weight slowly down, unable to support herself on her weakening legs. She could have let him go on like that, but other parts of her were burning for release now as well. She was still seething at the thought of Sally and Jack humping on the kitchen table, but was also burning with a kind of reckless greed. The urge to lower herself onto Jonathan was overpowering her.
There was a muffled male groan from the kitchen and the thumping and squeaking of the table legs accelerated.
‘She won’t find in his trousers what you’re about to find,’ murmured Jonathan, emerging from between her tits and leaving them singing for more. His smooth blond hair fell over his forehead and messed up his groomed appearance. It made him look far more attractive, and made Janie feel far more powerful. She didn’t want to speak, though she didn’t mind listening to his insidious commentary. She just smiled, and finally lowered herself down onto him. She rested there, feeling the long, thick shape of his cock running straight across his lap, dividing her pussy-lips. She felt a manic grin spread across her face, and bit her lips so as not to squeal with alarm. It was like sitting on one of her logs.
‘Sally told me you were well hung,’ gasped Janie, drawing her hips back to find the end of his cock, and sliding back along it to land against his groin. ‘But I just thought she was bragging. I’ve never seen –’
‘And you never will, honey, believe me. Take it, feel it, feel what she’s missing right now.’
Janie reached down between her legs and took hold of his dick. It was worthy of legend. The smooth, taut surface was already damp from where she had been sitting on it, and that sent stronger thrills of excitement through her. She took it in both hands, hitched herself back on his thighs for a moment to lift it and stare at its incredible, swollen length. Though engorged with blood, it looked unusually colourless. As she held it and looked at it, and ran her hands along the shaft, it leaped up at her, the bulbous end already winking with a droplet of pre-come. It was as if someone was already sluicing her through with hot juices.
‘No need to be so gentle with it,’ goaded Jonathan. ‘Take it, princess, it’s all yours.’
Janie raised herself up on quivering thighs and placed his rounded tip against her pussy. Instantly it made contact with the burning nub of her clitoris and it was Janie’s turn to groan out loud. The very sound of her own uncontrolled voice sounded filthy in her ears, and she realised that Sally and Jack could probably hear it through the ajar kitchen door, but there was nothing she could do to stop it, and no way that she wanted to.
‘Listen to this, guys,’ she hissed, edging Jonathan’s cock inside her and letting her pussy-lips nibble their way down its length. She paused every so often to adjust her knees and to luxuriate in the huge, animal mass that filled her. She lowered herself still further, wondered how much room there was, and felt herself expanding to accommodate him; felt herself impaled on a great rod. It felt almost as if she could lift her legs away and balance herself, cunt on cock, spin round on it even. It was quite out of this world and accentuated by her sitting above him. He lay there, hands loosely on her hips again, her tits bouncing and brushing against his face as he watched her.
‘So easy,’ he murmured, tightening his grip on her hips as she finally reached the base of his cock and they both waited for the inexorable movement to begin. ‘You’ve made this so easy for me.’
Just then Sally called out in a stream of gibberish, and the two bodies in the kitchen crashed down once, twice, three times on the surface of the table before she cried out in a long, low howl, which gradually whimpered into silence.
Janie waited, put off her stroke for a moment, but Jonathan’s cock seemed to continue swelling inside her and she had no choice but to move, to start easing herself up and down the long shaft. Once she had started she couldn’t stop because, as she raised herself off it, every inch of it rubbed against every screaming inch of her, so she could only go so far before slamming back down on him, groin on groin. When she did that she could feel the end of his knob stretching her deep inside, testing her to the limits, teaching her, for heaven’s sake, what she was capable of taking.
‘No rush, honey. I’d like them to see us. But let’s catch up a little, shall we? Let’s have the last, long laugh.’
His hips echoed the rhythm of hers. He backed himself against the sofa as she moved off him, then slammed up inside her as she came back down, and she could hear her voice rising in a crescendo, saying nothing but trying to articulate the extraordinary, terrifyingly powerful sensation of being impaled on this vast pole. It gave her more and more pleasure, as rivulets of fire seemed to streak up the sides of her cunt, like his cock was some kind of torch. Her inner cavity becoming a mass of vibrating mad ecstasy. She kept her eyes open, and watched the shaft moving in and out, as his eyes focused on her bouncing breasts. He pushed back against the sofa and tensed himself, then looked her straight in the eyes and pumped his spunk into her so that she was thrown upwards with the force of his thrusts. She cried out each time he lifted her, her own screams and his thrusting and her finger rubbing over her clit finally giving way to a wild, shattering climax that had her arching her body and then collapsing onto him, her legs spread out on either side of him, and her bare torso smothering him.
The kitchen door opened with a crash and the other two shuffled in. Jonathan could see them across Janie’s shoulder, but she wanted to keep her face hidden while she regained her breath. Jonathan patted her back a couple of times, and then unceremoniously heaved her off him, then packed away his subsiding erection and did up his corduroy trousers with a brisk zip. Janie huddled away from him, pulling up the straps of her negligee, but still hiding her face.
‘Why so coy, Janie?’ Sally asked from behind her. She had the pinafore haphazardly wrapped round her, but the French underwear was missing. ‘That was a splendid show! But, then again, how could you fail to look superb, bucking about on that?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Janie flashed back. She was not having Sally hurling insults, particularly not in front of Jack. ‘I’m allowed to try out your ex for size if I want to. It’s what you would do!’
Sally whistled and fanned her face as if insulted.
‘So it is Janie. Little red-haired cousin Janie. With the marigold hair.’
Jack was staring at Janie as if Sally and Jonathan weren’t there. He had a different sweater on today, even scruffier than yesterday’s, and his jeans hung loosely off his hips where he hadn’t finished buttoning them up. Now that he had come out from behind the kitchen door and she could see him clearly, she wanted him even more. She started to draw her knees up in front of her, but thought better of it, and curled herself sideways instead, draping one arm along the back of the sofa. Jonathan crossed one leg over the other, for all the world as if they had just been sharing cucumber sandwiches.
‘I came to check if I was right,’ said Jack. ‘That it was you, that’s all.’
‘Yes, Jack, it’s me.’
‘Ugly Jack? From the wigwam?’ Sally butted in, hands on hips like a fishwife. Jonathan chuckled and swung one polished brogue up and down. Jack buttoned up his jeans, still staring at Janie, and her stomach melted at the glimpse of furry stomach under his sweater. He stepped past Sally to go back through the kitchen.
‘Hey, don’t go, Jack,’ Janie cried. ‘We need to catch up.’
‘Can’t you see what kind of gorgeous, horny woman she’s grown into?’ taunted Sally, staying close beside him and pointing at Janie. ‘You had your chance when you were kids. She was nuts about you. But now? Well, now she’s anybody’s!’
‘You were always so shy,’ Jack said, ignoring Sally, but not coming back into the room. ‘We always wondered how you would turn out, Ben and me.’
‘I’m not just anybody’s!’ Janie protested. Beside her, Jonathan cleared his throat.
‘I have to go,’ said Jack. ‘Things to do, sorry.’
‘Stay and have some shepherd’s pie,’ Sally chimed in, wrapping her arm round Jack’s waist. ‘You weren’t in such a hurry to leave ten minutes ago, when I had your trousers round your ankles and your cock right up the tradesman’s entrance!’
‘Get out while you can, Jack,’ drawled Jonathan. ‘These two are randy little polecats. I never dreamed that Sally here would have a friend who was as horny as she is, but the pair of them obviously need sorting out on a regular basis. Let’s face it, I’m not sure you’re the man to do it.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ replied Jack. His mouth hardened. He unwound Sally’s arm from round his middle and looked again at Janie. She started to get up off the sofa, but he was already halfway out the door.
‘I’m here all summer, Jack,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not like he says, despite what you saw here today. It was the paint, and the onions. They went to our heads. We’re just here to relax, me and Sally. Just minding our own business. There’s plenty of time for you to find out what I’m really like.’
To her relief a slight smile dimpled his cheek. Then he raised a hand towards Jonathan, and was gone. They all looked at one another, and then Sally could contain herself no longer.
‘How the hell did you find me?’ she demanded, marching across to Jonathan. ‘I came here to get away from the whole damn lot of you.’
‘Your agent, sweetie,’ drawled Jonathan, brushing a speck of dust off his sleeve. ‘She’s very indiscreet.’
‘I’ll kill that Erica when I get back!’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ sighed Janie, unfolding her limbs from the sofa. Jonathan’s hand came down on her leg and squeezed it.
‘No need, my dear. I’m going, too, but I’ll be back. This little cottage is like a honey pot. I doubt any of the local males will be able to stay away. I’ll sniff Miss Sally out when she’s in a better mood, and when she’s prepared to listen to what I came here to say.’
‘Hell will freeze over first!’ shouted Sally, and Jonathan roared with laughter.
‘I take it there’s no invitation for me to partake of the famous shepherd’s pie, then?’
‘No one will be eating it if I don’t rescue it from the oven,’ Janie remarked, and she slithered out from under Jonathan’s hand and darted into the kitchen. She was knocked backwards by the heat from the Aga, but the pie looked just perfect, and her stomach rumbled as she put it on the table and retrieved the abandoned bottle of wine. Jack hadn’t shut the back door properly and she went to close it, flaking off some old red paint from its surface and smiling as she did so. Her anger at Sally making a beeline for him like that had subsided into something more constructive. She was climbing up on to Sally’s level – or descending, whichever way you looked at it. Either way, she was only more determined, not less, to get the man she wanted back to the honey pot, as Jonathan had called it. She hadn’t planned to, but she could stay all summer if that’s how long it took.
‘Paint and onions.’ Jonathan was roaring with sardonic laughter in the sitting room. ‘Now I’ve heard all the excuses.’
Janie heard Sally swearing and shouting at him, and then there was silence. She wondered if they were making up, and couldn’t resist peeking through the door to see if it was Sally’s turn to swing on Jonathan’s big dick, but her friend was standing on her own by the window, staring out at the rain, and Jonathan had gone.
‘He really gets to you, doesn’t he?’ Janie said quietly, fiddling with the corkscrew.
Sally spun round, still pink with fury.
‘Got to you, more like. What were you thinking of, squirming all over him like that?’
‘Oh, no you don’t!’ Janie tilted her chin, quite ready to fight, but Sally’s shoulders suddenly drooped and she came slowly across the room.
‘He’s the only one who ever has,’ she admitted, taking the corkscrew out of Janie’s hand. ‘Got to me, I mean. You’ve seen what he can be like, but I’ll be damned if I’ll ever let him see it.’
‘Come on, let’s forget those blokes and eat this delicious pie. Never knew we could be so domesticated.’ Janie changed the subject, pulled Sally back into the kitchen and picked up the chair for her to sit in.
‘You’re cheerful,’ Sally grumbled, as she picked up her fork. ‘He certainly pumped you full of life, didn’t he? Just wait till I get my hands on him.’
‘You weren’t slow to jump on Jack, either. Come on, that’s what you always do, but for me, all this is like – it’s like ice melting, or something. Something’s happened to me and I feel like I’m waking up from a coma.’
‘Meanwhile, I feel absolutely knackered,’ said Sally.
Janie swung her arm round, scattering the mince and potato she was serving onto two plates. ‘Look, we’re going to eat this pie, and we’re going to do a whole lot more cooking this afternoon. We need our strength.’
‘Hark at you! I’m the one who should be in trouble, after snatching Ugly Jack from under your nose, and you’re suddenly Miss Domestic Goddess.’
Janie sat down and took a forkful of the lunch. She let the meaty goodness roll round her mouth while she thought about what Sally was saying.
‘Let’s just say I’ve had my eyes opened,’ she said, finally.
‘Your legs, more like,’ chided Sally.
Janie chuckled – a new, sexy, pleased chuckle. She helped herself to some more pie. She had never felt so hungry.