Act of Exposure (9 page)

In order to
control his voice and his urges, Stephen took a deep breath before
shaking his head and smiling. It was a boyish, innocent smile, one
that made her want to suck his lips between her own, invade the wet
cavern of his mouth with her tongue.

His voice was
low, hushed. 'So in one life you are an icon of respectability,
conformity, and the process of law. In the other, you are still an
icon, but one of fantasy, myth, desire. So far you've been lucky in
your choice of men to temper those desires, to give you what you
want - what you know you want. Now you need someone more permanent,
more in tune with your desires.'

'Are you
offering?'

'Would you
accept? A role play. A scenario to infuse and excite both our
libidos?'

It took her no
time to answer. 'Yes.'

The word
trembled on her tongue. Her desire was mounting. Vividly, she
recollected all that had happened at the Railway Hotel - and all
that could happen.

They left the
inn and drove along a forest track. Black battalions of fir and
pine on either side of them divided the ribbon of sky from the
ribbon of road.

'Is this where
you took Valeria?'

He didn't
answer. Something in the air, something in themselves had suddenly
changed. The division that separated their professional lives from
their private ones had crept silently into play.

Apprehension
made her sit rigidly in her seat, made her stare out of the window
into the darkness and see two naked bodies etched in the glass of
the car window and in the dense blackness of the trees.

Stephen could
almost taste her anxiety. He also knew that shortly it would turn
to desire.

His
inclination was to smother her with kisses, and yet he knew she
would expect more from him - much more. This was no back-seat
Venus, no clinging vine who craved security, domesticity, or the
humdrum sexuality of a pink bedroom in a red-brick semi. This was a
woman of dramatic tastes and infinite imagination. He had to give
her what she wanted.

The car pulled
to a sudden halt. Stephen turned to face her.

'Take off your
clothes.'

The tone of
his voice was noticeably harsher.

Abigail
experienced a thrill of excitement as she first removed the seat
belt. An item of restraint. The first item to leave her body. Her
businesslike shoes, her black suit, her white blouse, and her
underwear followed.

'Give it
here.'

He took it
from her, and got out of her car.

Looking over
her shoulder, Abby saw the car boot open, then felt the car shake
as it banged shut.

'Get out,' he
said to her.

She did as he
ordered, the earth soft to the soles of her bare feet, the night
air raising goose bumps on her naked body. She noticed Stephen was
holding some sort of straps and buckles. What was his intention?
For the first time that evening she felt very vulnerable again, and
a little afraid.

He saw her
wary look, drew her close, and sucked her lips into his.

As the feel of
his body warmed hers, any fear she might have had disappeared.
Again, fierce vibrations stirred deep within her. Her nipples shot
forward into the palms of his hands as she arched her back and
thrust her belly to his.

'Don't be
afraid, Abby. Let yourself go. Let all your professional restraint
crumble away. Leave it to me to give you what you want.'

'What do you
want?' she asked him, her lips a mere kiss away from his.

He smiled
again like a small, but very imaginative boy. 'I want a mascot for
my car.'

His mood was
infectious. A playfulness, a careless abandon came upon her. Like
him she became a child again, excited and happy to be losing
herself in her own imagination and a shared fantasy made reality.
Just like a mocking child, she laughed in his face, poked her
finger into the centre of his chest.

'So you want a
mascot, do you? Well, you'll have to catch me first!'

Catching him
unawares, she sprang from his arms and ran into the dark shadows of
the trees.

The earth
beneath her feet smelt rich and felt soft. Ferns and small bushes
brushed against her thighs, her hips, her legs and her naked
breasts.

She heard him
behind her, his shoes heavy upon the ground. Judging by the sound
of his footsteps he was gaining on her, but then she meant him
to.

'Got you!'

Strong arms
gathered her close to his body. She struggled, a naked, helpless
struggle against the hardness of his chest. The advantage was
his.

'No!' she
cried out. 'Let me go!'

But she didn't
want him to let her go. This game had been devised by him, yet she
instinctively knew the rules, knew what she was required to do and
to be.

'Certainly
not.'

He tied her
hands behind her which made her breasts jut forward just as they
did in her act. Then he hobbled her ankles so she could only walk,
not run.

'Get going,'
he ordered. A strip of the leather that bound her hands and also
formed a leash, landed on her buttocks.

She yelped
like a puppy, started, then began to stumble forward. Lacking the
freedom of movement that had made her feet fly over the damp earth
earlier, her step now was less confident, her eyes wary of the dark
that surrounded her like a chill cloak. All the same, she was still
shivering with excitement as she stumbled on.

'Keep
going!'

Stephen's
voice was accompanied by another stroke from the leather leash.

Back at the
car, he had her sit on the bonnet. It was warm, pleasant beneath
her bottom. Each leather leash remained fastened to her wrists. He
pulled the ends back and fastened them around the wing mirrors. He
undid the strap that hobbled her ankles, then tied it to something
on the front wing so that her right leg was spread out to one side.
He found a new piece of leather and did the same to her other
ankle.

Abby's breasts
heaved with excitement when she heard the car door slam. What was
he planning to do with her? Her arms were stretched out behind her,
her wrists secure. Because her legs were spread out to each side,
the breeze trifled with her pubic hair and the delicate inner lips
of her sex.

In her mind,
and probably in Stephen's, she was the Spirit of Ecstasy - but
improved. The original was made of metal and chromium plated. She
was real. She was flesh and blood. She felt something the original
had never felt.

As the car
moved forward, the breeze whipped her hair back from her face. The
black velvet bow had already fallen off in the car.

Because the
breeze was cooler on the move, the goose bumps returned to replace
the warmth she had enjoyed during the chase. Her nipples hardened
and swelled to three times their normal size. Partly due to the
breeze, and partly excitement, her stomach muscles tensed.

The track
through the forest became more bumpy. Behind the wheel of the car,
Stephen watched as her body which was held so tightly by the
restraining leather, swayed from side to side. Her bottom bumped up
and down on the shiny black car, her flesh jiggling slightly as the
engine intoned its monotonous note.

The sight of
her like that delighted him. From behind, he could imagine her
breasts jiggling gently then more vigorously as he purposely drove
over the deepest pot holes, the roughest gravel. Every so often,
the odd patch of fine gravel would be sure to fly up and pepper her
with its tingling sting. How exquisite that would feel to her; how
delightful the thought of it felt to him.

He was aware
that his erection had reached superb proportions. However, he knew
better than to stop the car and immediately push himself into this
woman.

Abigail
Corrigan was sophisticated, a woman of unusual tastes. It would not
be enough to slam into her and say thank you afterwards. She was
the sort of woman who needed someone to draw into her deepest well
and extract the last droplet of erotic arousal.

Stephen
Sigmund had no trouble admitting to himself that he had an
imaginative taste when it came to sex. The trouble was in
convincing someone else that such experiences could be mutually
enjoyable.

Valeria had
gone along with his fantasy, but only because he had presented it
as a dare.

To Abigail, it
was not just his fantasy, but also her own. For the first time
ever, he had not needed to explain himself. Incredibly, he had met
a kindred spirit.

When the car
came to a halt, Abby's breasts stopped trembling. Stephen turned
the headlights off and got out of the car.

It took effort
to keep to the part he was playing. For a moment he gaped as he
studied her. The moonlight made her hair seem more silver, her body
more unreal.

She turned to
look at him and he felt like drowning in her eyes. Such a feeling
made him want to pounce on her there and then. But this was Abby
and he could not allow that to happen. If he did, if he stepped out
of the role play and became merely a lust-filled lover, he might
never see her again, and that was something he could not bare. He
forced himself back into his role.

'Look straight
ahead and keep still. I want to look at you.'

She did as he
ordered.

For one sweet
moment he had seen the brightness of her eyes, and knew she was
enjoying playing her part, that nothing he could say or do would
offend her.

She trembled
as he reached out and cupped one breast. Her flesh was cold and
covered in goose bumps. And yet, beneath his touch, it warmed,
responded, her nipple pressing into the palm of his hand.

He could not
resist.

She moaned as
he bent his head and ran the hotness of his lips from her ear to
her shoulder. A wake of warmth blossomed wherever his mouth
travelled.

How soft her skin feels
, he thought to
himself,
yet how firm
.

Abby tingled
with pleasure, and in her mind, a door slammed shut on her
professional life that was spent among law books and oak-panelled
courts. With Stephen, her sexuality was freed from constraint.

Hungrily, she
sucked on his lips as his tongue entered her mouth. Her flesh,
which had been cooled by the night breeze, now warmed as his hands
covered her breasts, slid downwards over her taut stomach, then
firmly grasped her slender hips. His lips travelled from her mouth
to her breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at her flesh, his
teeth nibbling at her nipples.

Lost in a sea
of sensations, she groaned, closed her eyes, and threw back her
head.

As his tongue coursed over her pubic hair and gently tickled
her most sensitive flesh, she opened her eyes and saw thousands of
stars.
Not all
, she
thought to herself,
are up there in the
sky. Some are in my head, and some are set to
explode
.

Slowly,
softly, his mouth travelled back up over her body, his hair
brushing her skin before his lips warmed her flesh. He kissed her
throat, her chin, and the very tip of her nose before he kissed her
mouth.

The weight of
his body forced her backwards onto the bonnet of the car.

His hands
fumbled between her open legs. She heard his zip open, and was
aware of something warm and hard nudging at her open sex. He
steadied himself, pressed her down onto the bonnet of the car, then
pushed himself into her.

She cried out,
and would have cried out again as he thrust fiercely, his length
and breadth filling her slippery flesh. But her second cry was
muffled by his lips and lost in his mouth.

Still bound by
the leather straps, Abigail lost herself in enjoying what he was
doing to her.

His hands
explored her breasts, did as he pleased with them; stroked,
pinched, kneaded. It was as though they were made of something as
pliable as fresh dough.

Hot breath
mingled with half-strangled words as he moaned sweet exclamations
into her ear, kissed her cheeks, her lips, her throat, and sucked
on her breasts as if he were feeding from them.

And all the
time, the car bounced on its springs as he thrust against her.

Sometimes he
thrust slowly, drawing himself half out then leaving only his very
tip in her and lingering. He gazed at her, gauging her reaction,
hearing her moans of pleasure - and of regret that he could leave
her so - before pushing back in.

She could see
the fascination in his eyes, the pleasure of watching her, of
enjoying her mews of delight, and the desire that burned in her
eyes.

Once she was
purring with the slow, sensual tempo of his loving he altered pace,
surprised her with deep thrusts that brought loud gasps from her
throat, and caused the car to rock more vigorously.

But the point
came when he was no longer in control of his own urges. Sensations
as old as time, as powerful as the force of life itself, took over
his body. Hot blood ran through his veins and hot semen up his
stem.

Abby could
feel it in his flesh and in the stiff organ that was now embedded
so deeply within her. She too was being taken by it.

No matter that
civilization had made her into a woman that could survive in a
man's world, a woman that spouted law so very precisely and won far
more cases than she lost. Modern aspirations and values were swept
away by the primeval, the most basic drive of all.

Threads of
nervous energy spiralled throughout her body, cork-screwing
downwards to accumulate around her tingling clitoris.

Veins stood
out in stark relief around Stephen's neck as he threw back his
head, closed his eyes, and filled her with his essence.

Abby cried
out, arched her back and thrust her hips up to meet his. As she
climaxed, she gasped at her breath and at the sky. It seemed as
though the stars above were bursting, flying, falling around her in
one glorious explosion.