TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) (11 page)

I asked you not to
read my thoughts …

I wasn’t. I’m
allowing you to hear mine.

Discretely, I release
my hand from his, marvelling at his capacity to communicate silently. I focus
on Charlie. “I think I need to take things easy. Maybe see who’s looking after
my classes at school.”

“What?!” She places
down her glass. “Tell me you’re not seriously thinking of going back there!”

“Well …”

“Why would you even
bother?”

Ayden senses his cue.
“For once we’re in agreement, Charlie. I promised Beth a honeymoon and I have
yet to deliver on it.”

She’s nodding
frantically. “See. You could be lying on a beach sipping cocktails. What the
hell! Ask me nicely and I’ll come with you.” She laughs out loud, her flaming
hair bouncing on her shoulders in an exaggerated display of enthusiasm. 
“Better still, bring Jake along and we’ll make it a foursome.”

“You’re shameless,
Char,” I declare, giving her hand a squeeze. “I do like the idea of a
honeymoon, though.”

The sofa dips. I feel
a warm hand resting on my shoulder, sliding beneath my hairline, fingers
caressing, a thumb delicately stroking the skin beneath my right ear in a kind
of sensual torture.

I start to fidget and
tip my head into his embrace, trying desperately to quell desire pooling
beneath my navel.

Oh God!

What can I do? I’m
beginning to overheat. I gulp back my wine. “I’ll get you a top-up, Char,” I
say, attempting to stand.

“No need Beth, I have
the bottle right here.” Ayden kisses my right cheek and reaches down to the bottle
of Chardonnay that magically appears by his feet. “This is turning into quite a
celebration.” His seductive smile is a sucker punch, leaving me with no
alternative other than to remove his hand and take it in mine. There it rests,
encased in two slender hands, fanning out and positioning itself on my knee.

Better?

No!

He exhales loudly
seeking attention. “It was going to be a surprise, but never mind. I’ve
arranged to take you to Hong Kong and then onto The Great Barrier Reef for our
honeymoon. How does that sound?”

All I can do is stare
into his eyes, glowing with delight. “It sounds … spontaneous,” I reply,
shaking my head.

“Not at all. It’s all
part of my devious plan to spend time alone with you.” He smiles in such a way
I could slap him, but this is him taking charge with captivating charm; more
like Ayden than I dare to admit.

“Wow!” Charlie
announces. “That’s what I call a honeymoon.” She turns to Ayden and enquires,
“When were you thinking of going?”

“Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!” I cry,
tightening my grip on his hand. “Why so soon?”

“Soon? We were
married over a week ago, darling. I know you’ve slept through most of it but …”
He laughs at his attempt at humour. “But I did promise.”

I feel his lips
against my cheek and his hand ascending northwards on my knee. I offer a
retort. “You did and I love you for it, but you have ASMI to think about. What
with me being in the hospital,
sleeping
, you must have so much to catch
up with …”

He’s smiling
contentedly. “No, everything’s ticking along nicely. For the next couple of
weeks, I’m all yours.”

Charlie calls out,
“Friggin’ hell! Just go pack, Beth! Quick, before he changes his mind.” To the
left and right of me, the air fills with excited laughter. “Anyone would think
you didn’t want to go.”

I’m quick to respond.
“I do. But I don’t want Ayden to be put under any pressure.”

He removes his hand
from my knee and strokes my hair, gently. “There’s no chance of that, Beth. But
thank you for caring.” He pulls me to him and kisses my head, letting his lips
linger on my hair.

Instinctively I rest
my hand on his chest, savouring a rich cocktail of cologne in my nostrils and
muscles under my palm. All I can do is close my eyes and lean into him,
forgetting, for a moment, the who and the why, focusing only on the here and
now.

Charlie throws back
the last drop of wine in her glass. “Look, I can see you two have some packing
to do and so have I. I’ll leave you to it.” She stands and reaches for her
coat.

“You don’t have to
leave, Char, stop and have something to eat with us.”

“I can’t. I’m meeting
a Broker friend for drinks in Knightsbridge in thirty minutes. But thanks for
asking. When you get back from your honeymoon we’ll get together.” She eases my
disappointment with an affectionate smile.

I help her put on her
coat and step into the lift with her. I sense she is holding back, but whatever
it is she wants to say is bubbling behind her smile.

“Beth, I know you
love Ayden and he loves you; I can see that. But remember who
you
are.
Even before he found you, you were beautiful in your own right – you still
are.” Her hands take mine. “All I’m saying is be careful you don’t lose sight
of who you are and become his creation.” Her words are well-intentioned.

I pull her close to
me. The lie that my life has become is one I dare not share. All I can do is
pretend. “Don’t worry, Char, I know what you mean. I’ll be forever Beth and
you’ll always be my big sister looking out for me. I know what I’m doing.”

She sniffs away a
tear. “That’s all I need to know as you go gallivanting off around the world
with Mr. P.” She slams me against her chest for a farewell hug.

“A girl’s got to have
her honeymoon,” I state gleefully.

“I hope it never ends
for you, Beth. Bye.”

“Bye, Char. Drive
safely.”

I wave her off and
step back to close the door. At that precise moment a van pulls up a couple of
yards from me. Out steps a young man with spiky hair and a beaming smile. “Are
you Mrs. Stone?” he asks, consulting a piece of paper.

“Yes,” I answer, a
little bemused.

“Then these are for
you.” From the rear of the van he lifts out an enormous bouquet of red roses.
“Would you sign here, please?”

I press down lightly
on his clipboard and sign my name, writing the word
Stone
for the first
time, pausing to look at the signature, unconvinced that the name actually
belongs to me. The ‘S’ looks back at me like a note off a sheet of music that
simply does not resonate.

I fumble around in
the lift, reaching around petals and stems for the number two. When I step from
the lift, Ayden is nowhere to be seen. I want to call his name but the ‘A’ is
leaving my mouth in an exaggerated stutter. “Ayyy …den.”

No answer.

I place the flowers
on the kitchen countertop and expectantly make my way to the guest bedroom.

He’s lying there on
the bed, facing away from me, resting. “Did Charlie tire you out?“ I ask,
leaning against the doorframe. “The flowers are beautiful, by the way. I
haven’t read the card yet, but I assume they’re from you. Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer.

I sit on the edge of
the bed, trying to make sense of things. I touch his shoulder and he doesn’t
move. This can mean only one thing: “he’s” left, and I’m alone with Ayden.
Making the most of the moment I scramble around to the other side of the bed. I
kneel so we’re face to face.  I push back a stray curl from his forehead,
caress his cheek with my thumb and relay the events of my day.

“We made plans today
for our honeymoon. You have everything sorted out: Hong Kong, then on to The
Great Barrier Reef. I’m really looking forward to it, Ayden.” I try to smile,
but my smile dissolves into a quivering slant. “I miss you so much.” I lean in
and place a feather-light kiss on his cheek, but when I pull away his eyes are
open causing me to tumble backwards onto the carpet with an almighty jolt.

“It’s always nice to
be missed,” Ayden whispers, mockingly. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” He
raises himself off the bed and offers me his hand.

I take it and regain
my balance. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. It was
only a brief departure. I’m back now.” Keeping hold of my hand, he leads me
back into the lounge. “Your flowers have arrived, I see.”

“Yes and they’re
beautiful. I love red roses.”

“I’m glad. Would you
like to tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Why bother asking?
You can tune into my thoughts anytime, can’t you?”

“Yes. But I said I
wouldn’t.”

“But you did.”

“No, I merely spoke
to you. I made a point of not listening to your reply, although I think it
would have been quite amusing to have done so.”

I’m not convinced,
and merely answer with a carefree shrug.

“What does that mean?
You think I’m lying?” He raises an incredulous brow.

“I think you say and
do whatever you want,” I confess, briskly.

“If that were the
case I would have voiced my thoughts long ago.”

I fold my arms and
wait for his thunderous reply. “And what thoughts might those be?”

“Thoughts of you,
naked and splayed across my bed, waiting, aching for my touch, predominantly.”

The words explode
from his mouth, leaving a crackle of something sexual in the air that ripples
over me. I feel my cheeks glowing and turn away. “I see.”

He cocks his head to
one side. “Well, you
did
ask ...”

“I did. Thank you for
sharing. I feel so much better knowing that.” I reach for the bottle of
Chardonnay and slam the fridge door shut.

“Why are you
offended? Doesn’t every woman want to be desired?”

“Desired?” I huff and
walk away. Out of the side of my eye I see him raise his hand and then think
better of it.

“I ask the question
again, and for the last time. Why are you offended?” He follows me across the
room and stands over me like a handsome shadow.

I look into his eyes.
“Because …” I think through my reply. “Because you treat this as a game with no
regard for me.” I sip at the wine. “I thought you said we would find a way to
approach this
adventure
that would suit us both?”

“I did.”

“And yet …”

“Have I hurt you?
Demeaned you, forced you to do anything you haven’t wanted to do?”

“No, but …”

Finding it difficult
to control the tone of his voice, he prepares to explain the finer points
highlighted in our earlier discussion. “There are no ‘if’s’ or ‘but’s’, Beth.
Don’t you realise I could have fucked you and fled like a thief in the night,
and that would have been the end of the matter? I have revealed myself to you
and offered you honesty and yet here you are, taking every opportunity to
profess your love to your husband, reneging on our agreement.”

Thoroughly chastised,
I lower my head. “I thought you were off somewhere doing what you do. I didn’t
do it to offend you.”

He positions himself
besides me, tilting up my chin and holding me in place with a fierce stare
which reminds me, if I needed to be reminded, that Ayden is not here.

“This is not a game.”
He leans in and kisses me softly, leaving my lips tingling; brushes his lips
over my moist eyelids until I ache with a longing for Ayden that tears at my
soul. “Be my wife or be bereft. The choice is yours, Beth.”

When I open my eyes
again he’s gone. Feeling dazed by his decree, I wobble to my feet. My thumbnail
finds its way to my mouth and I’m quick to remove it, not wanting to appear too
shaken by his declaration.

Arranging the flowers
gives me time to collect my thoughts. A lemon envelope falls from the bouquet
and I open it tentatively, unfolding the flap like the petals on a daffodil.
Inside there is a crumpled piece of paper, yellowed and tattered around the
edges. On it is neat, slanted handwriting; some words have been crossed out and
replaced but there is a legible signature at the bottom. It reads:
S.T.
Coleridge.

Wow!

This is an early
draft of Desire. My prospective husband sent me the poem and now I’ve been
gifted the original. I can scarcely believe my eyes. It’s priceless. I can’t
even begin to think where he got it from … a museum? Or, maybe he retrieved it
from the man himself …?

Just thinking this
through makes my head spin; it’s an irreplaceable piece of history, if somewhat
ironic. I imagine what Ayden would be feeling right now; my Romantics man would
be smiling from ear to ear, and so would I.

Taking
energising breaths and long strides, I enter the lift and descend one floor.
The hallway is illuminated and the door to the master bedroom is ajar. I
approach it with my head held high. One single thought is on repeat in my head
like the chorus in a song.

Be bold baby.  

Feeling fearless, I
push open the door, catching sight of Ayden bathed in lamplight, undressing for
bed; his grey T-shirt has been carelessly discarded and thrown onto the chair.
His belt buckle is undone and he’s sitting on the bed removing his socks. He
turns to acknowledge my arrival with a half-smile, given more out of politeness
than any need to be forgiven for his blunt proposal. Unselfconsciously, he
lowers his jeans and they land on top of the T-shirt. There he stands before
me, a perfect specimen.

“You’ve chosen the
perfect man to possess,” I comment. “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,
Ayden.” I use his name purposely, feeling something sharp penetrating my chest
as the final consonant leaves my mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you, Beth.” He
outstretches his hand and I will myself to move forward even though my feet
appear to be glued to the carpet. I take one step and then another until I’m
standing before him, looking up into the dark indigo eyes of the man I love. 

With the gracefulness
of a magician he moves his hand to my face, slipping it beneath my hairline as
I tilt my head; I feel the strength of his palm on my cheek and close my eyes
to absorb it.

Keeping my eyes
closed, I lick my lips in anticipation of what’s to follow. He doesn’t
disappoint. I taste the lips I have come to love and claim as mine in this
exploratory kiss. I open my mouth in response, feeling the need to take in more
air as I succumb to the lush wetness coating my lips as the kiss deepens.  His
hands are framing my face and I’m being devoured. No one kisses like Ayden.

I’m rocking back and
forth, being slowly unravelled one limb at a time; my fists are unclenching and
my feet are gradually toward him. He’s doing very little, but his perfect
nakedness and kissing prowess is enough to have me in a hypnotic spin.

“Open your eyes,
Beth,” he whispers.

I do, feeling
intoxicated by physical longing and his oh-so-familiar cologne.

He tilts my chin up
to focus my attention on his words. “I want you to do something for me.”

I blink, knowing
what’s coming next.

“I want you to relive
your first encounter with you husband. Do you remember it?”

I do. I have visions
of Ayden stretched out across my bed, attached to the headrest by my stockings.
It’s not what I expected him to say. “Why?”

“Because I want us to
start over. I think you need that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“I will be totally
compliant. I am yours to do whatever you wish tonight.”

“And tomorrow night?”
I ask.

He tilts his head to
the right. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead …”

Liar.

“Alright.” I agree. “But
you’re already undressed.”

“Close your eyes.”

I do.

“Open.”

When I open my eyes
he’s dressed in the same clothes Ayden wore that night at the theatre. Even the
shirt looks crisp and freshly ironed. “Another party trick?”

He nods. “One of
many.”

“I like it. All we
need now is the music and we’re back in the moment.”

“I think we may have
very different tastes but I have a song in mind. May I?” He reaches around and
selects Aqualung’s
Strange and Beautiful.
“Do you approve?”

“Does it matter one
way or the other?”

“No, but I like it.”

I return his smile.
“Then so do I.”

The buttons on his
shirt are fiddly just as I remember them. This role-play isn’t so bad. The only
difference is that it’s undertaken in silence. I feel like I’m starring in a
silent movie. Surely there must be subtitles to go with this? That thought
makes me smile.

“What made you
smile?”

“This is not how I
remember it. I was jabbering on about nothing to hide my nervousness, taking my
time …”

He takes hold of my
hand, making me jump. “Then take your time … please.”

I take a step back
and close my eyes, remembering how it was - the pretence. Ayden already knew
who I was, and was already in love with me. The way he gave himself to me like
a gift I had to unwrap. I feel tears leaking from my eyes, and wipe them
quickly with my fingertips. I can’t back out now.

I straighten my back
and begin unbuttoning my blouse. “This is bullshit! I can’t relive a moment
like that. Just because it’s lodged in Ayden’s memory doesn’t mean it can be
re-enacted like some blockbuster movie.” I fling my blouse onto the chair. “Get
undressed and get into bed.” Covertly, I watch him remove his trousers for the
second time, pull back the bedding and stretch out beneath the sheet. Just as I
remember it, his erection holds my attention as it creates a ridge in the
bedding; but, rather than lying perfectly flat, he turns towards me, planting
his chin on his left palm. I’m the leading lady now and I don’t like it one
bit.

Oh shit!

This is beyond
embarrassing. I’ve never undressed in front of any man other than my husband.
Now look! I have a stranger in my bed. I’m rolling my eyes, feeling hesitant
again.

Instantly he wriggles
a hand out of the sheets and switches off the bedside lamp.

I’m grateful for
that. “Thank you.”

“I’m not totally
oblivious to your bashfulness, Beth; although why you would be shy when you are
so beautiful, mystifies me.”

I begin to unhook my
bra. “It’s because of who you are. You must have seen so many beautiful women.
I can’t compete with them.” I peel off my bra and place it on the chair then
settle my eyes on a spot on the carpet, bending my knees and covering my
breasts with my arms.

“Beth. I have
travelled through space and time to be here. Do you seriously think you could
disappoint me?”

I raise my head.
“Travelled? I thought you were brought here by Ayden crashing the car?”

He corrects himself.
“Yes, of course I was but we are not strangers. I have been aware of you for
some time. I explained that.”

I’m standing in my
panties, feeling as if I have nowhere to hide. “Yes, but you’ve not seen me
naked.”

“Oh… please. Come,
you’ll catch cold standing there looking like a quivering figurine.” He pulls
back the sheets.

Shivering, I clamber
over him. “My mother had one of those.”

“A quivering
figurine?”

My teeth are
chattering. ”No. A Lladro figurine.”

“Did she?” he
chuckles. “Is this the way you usually embark upon a romantic liaison with your
husband? Discussing Spanish pottery?”

“No, we usually begin
with wine and music, then move onto literature and take it from there.”

He wraps his arms
around me and I fold my forearms to my chest, hoping to absorb some of his body
heat.

“Why are you so cold”
He rubs his left hand up and down my arm.

“I’m frightened.”

He tilts back and
frowns. “Of me?”

I nod, knowing he can
just see the outline of my features.

“What can I do to
reassure you?”

“Just hold me and let
me fall asleep in your arms. It’s been a while since I felt safe and I always
felt safe in Ayden’s arms.”

“I understand.” He
kisses my hair. “Go to sleep. You’re perfectly safe now. No one will ever hurt
you again.”

Wrapped in his arms,
I know that to be true. Nothing in heaven or earth can touch me now.

When I awake, I’m
still encased in a kind of human force field, warm and untroubled by fearful
thoughts. I lift up my right hand and stroke Ayden’s left cheek.

Out of the darkness a
voice materialises. “I’m still here.”

At first I’m startled
but I settle quickly. “I know. You breathe differently than Ayden.” I continue
to caress his cheek. “Can I ask you something?” He nods. “Have you had many
lovers?”

“Define ‘many’.”

“More than ten,
fifty, a hundred, two hundred?” His silence causes me to raise myself and to
look down at him. “
More
than two hundred?”

He’s shaking his
head. “I think it’s best I don’t answer.”

“Why? Are you afraid
I’ll think you sleep around?”

He begins to laugh
out loud. “Why would I care about that?”

“If you want me to
fall out of love with my husband and in love with you, you’ll want me to
respect you and not to think of you as … promiscuous.”

“I hardly think
you’re in a position to judge.”

“I think I am. Why
won’t you answer? Are you ashamed?”

“Ashamed?”

I detect indignation
in his voice. “Yes.”

“I have nothing to be
ashamed of, Beth”

“How can I know
that?” I enquire further.

“Because I say so,
and I never lie!”

“Never?”

“Never.”

I lower myself onto
the mattress. ”Tell me about your last lover. Was she stunning and voluptuous
or one of your kind?”

“No and no. There is
only me.”

I turn to face him.
“Only you? You’re one of a kind?”

“I am.”

“Can’t be much fun
being you, then. No wonder you possess handsome men’s bodies.”

He raises himself up
off the bed and stretches out his left arm until it’s across my body. “Beth,
tell me. Were you like this with your husband?”

“Like what?”

“Utterly delightful.”

“I don’t know. I was
myself.”

“Then no wonder he
never stopped looking for you. I would have done the same.”

Without thinking my
answer through, I reply, “I think I would have gotten lost in the stampede …”

“The stampede?” He
looks quizzically at me.

“Yes, from all those
lovers you’ve had pursuing you to the ends of the earth.”

He’s laughing. “I
have outlived them all, Beth. They’re all sleeping peacefully.”

“Like Ayden?”

“Yes. But he has not
experienced eternal rest. It’s more of a … nap.”

“And what would
happen if you chose to wake him from his
nap
? Would he remember
everything you’d done or would it all be a blur?”

“He would have
recollections, if I allowed him to retain some memories, but it would be like a
dream.”

My face contorts into
a frown. “What a terrible dream; sharing your wife with another. I wouldn’t
want him to ever have a dream like that.”

“It wouldn’t be like
that. He would be the one in the dream, with you,” he states frankly.

“He wouldn’t know
anything about you?”

 “No. Does that put
your mind at rest?”

I sigh resignedly. “A
little. It eases my conscience.”

His flat smile says
it all. “Is that why you tremble when I touch you?”

“Not just that. I’m
afraid I may actually enjoy spending time with you. That’s the thought that
terrifies me the most.”

“Would that be so
bad?”

I turn away. “It
would be betrayal. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Betrayal would
involve deception and disloyalty. Surely you can’t find yourself guilty of
that?”

“No but I’d be
sleeping with the enemy…”

His eyes flash with
surprise. “You consider me your enemy?”

“No. It’s just a
phrase that came to mind. I don’t mean it literally.”

“Metaphorically
then?”

“Sort of …”

“And is this the part
where we discuss literature?” He’s smiling and I see the kind of glint in his
eyes that signals trouble.

“I suppose so. Thank
you for the Samuel Taylor Coleridge draft. That was the first poem Ayden sent
me.”

“I know. That’s why I
sent it.”

“But you’ve given me
the first draft.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

I lick my lips. “That
was the first time Ayden and I kissed. Can you kiss me like that too?”

“I think I could be
persuaded to try.” He raises a curious brow. “In fact it wouldn’t take very
much persuasion at all. You’re a brave and beautiful woman, Beth. I have put
you in a difficult position, but this is not the body of a stranger.” He places
my hand on his heart. “Can you feel a heart beating?” I nod. “This is your
husband’s heart, as is every other part of this body. I possess it, but it
belongs to you. I will make no demands, other than insisting on total
commitment on both our parts to love, without boundaries.” He moves in for a
kiss.