Authors: Toni Kenyon
Laying her modesty aside with her dress, she found solace in the fact that she'd had the good sense to put some pretty pale blue underwear on this morning.
Nothing like a budding romance and a holiday to float the best bra-and-knicker sets to the front of the underwear drawer.
The blue lace couldn't hide her arousal.
Familiar dampness began to form between her legs and she took delight in running her fingers down her belly and sliding them into the wetness.
A growing sense of security from her own familiar touch eased her jangling nerves.
Matt's eager attention and the fact he was expertly massaging pre-come over the head of his raging hard-on spurred her on.
"Taste yourself for me."
An overwhelming desire to please him surged through her and Tamsen found herself suckling her own juices from her fingers.
A rush of excitement exploded from some dark place inside, sending tendrils of warmth across her body.
She removed her underwear with haste, finding it impossible to figure out a way to look sexy while doing so.
Kneeling up over him again, beginning to enjoy the power, she played her fingers down her breasts, stopping to squeeze her now rigid nipples, even aware of the tiny buds on her areola.
"I want you to touch me too."
Matt's words were more of a moan.
"Soon.
I promise."
She ran her finger down to her clit, picking up a little lubrication and circling the sensitive node of flesh.
The look on Matt's face, his frantic squirming beneath her and the familiar sensation of her fingers was all too much.
"Oh, God, I'm going to come for you, Matt - would you like that?"
He nodded, frantic, and let go of his cock, both hands clutching at the linen. She noticed the white of his knuckles before she lost herself in a sea of feeling.
Rubbing against his perfect cock, she came, fast and hard and with an openness she'd not experienced before.
Panting and breathless, she collapsed on top of a sweating and squirming Matt.
"Don't you dare."
She felt his words on the side of her damp neck more than heard them.
"Don't think you can display yourself to me like that, turn me on and then just lie there."
He lifted her limp form and thrust his hard cock inside her in a single, piercing motion.
A moan escaped Tamsen's lips as she felt him bottom out deep within.
"Look at me!"
If his cock hadn't already snapped her back into the present moment his voice would have.
"I want you to watch
me
come now - in you."
He started lifting her up and down - slowly at first, then building to what she could only hope would be a quick finish.
Yet despite herself and her exhausted state, as she felt the tension in his body building beneath her she couldn't resist matching him stroke for stroke.
Repositioning herself on the balls of her feet, without him missing a beat, she took control.
She liked dominating him; there was a sense of wonder at the ability she had to turn an intelligent, competent, powerful man into a begging, gibbering wreck.
"Come on, come for me then."
She couldn't help verbalizing her thoughts.
Surely that would tip him over the edge?
S
he was barely hanging on, so he couldn't be far away.
She leaned down and whispered into his ear, "I want you to come in me, right now."
That was all it took. A violent shudder beneath her, and then she couldn't work out who the moans were coming from - him or her.
The next three days passed in a blur of food, sex and sightseeing, not necessarily in that order.
Tamsen couldn't believe how picturesque were some of the out-of-the-way places they visited.
Matt seemed to drop his omnipresent guard; the wide open spaces and harsh Australian scenery dug at his core, exposing a beautiful vein, clearly as precious as the gold mined from the very territory they visited.
He astounded her with his hunger for the arts - galleries, theaters, and even an evening with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra at the Town Hall.
To her surprise she lost herself in Tchaikovsky's
Pathétique
Symphony, the combination of music and historic surroundings causing every cell in her being to scream in pure unadulterated delight at being alive.
She'd bored Matt senseless with her fervor for fine detail - especially on their visit, at his insistence, to the Botanic Gardens where Tamsen fell in love with a tiny, pre-fabricated cottage that had been brought out in pieces from England in 1839.
As she regaled him with its history Matt seemed alternately amused and frustrated by her passion for diligent and thorough research.
The familiar
toi toi
sculptures before the harbor bridge signaled home to Tamsen, as did the pukeko strutting along the median strip, oblivious their passing vehicle, playing some sort of native game of chicken.
But home meant Gina, and Tamsen realized her hands were tingly and sweaty with fear – though fear about what, or whom?
How she wished she could return to that safe place of oblivion her time away with Matt had been. A wonderful fantasy she hadn't wanted to end but now reality beckoning with a firm hand.
As Matt slowed down for the entrance to her apartment block she shuddered involuntarily.
"Are you cold, sweets?"
Matt looked concerned.
Despair gripped her and she fought not to cry. "No.
I'm just not looking forward to being back.
Things have been so bad between me and Gina."
She sighed.
"And I've had such a lovely time away with you."
"The harsh reality of living with the spinner from hell."
"She's not that bad, really."
Even as the words fell from her mouth Tamsen knew he was right.
Maybe it was time to think about moving on, giving Gina notice.
"Just throw the mad tart out."
He had that look of disgust on his face, the one that screamed if things didn't quite fit Mr Solomon's view on the world they needed to be gone.
And Gina had never fitted.
It was an impossible state of affairs - her lover versus her best friend.
Tamsen felt trapped.
As Matt pulled into the visitors’ park she noted Gina's yellow VW parked in its usual spot.
"She's home, then." Matt stated the obvious, his voice sounding as flat as she felt.
"That appears to be the case."
Climbing out of the Audi, Tamsen wished for the first time in an age that she hadn't given up smoking.
"Oh, God!"
"What's the matter now?"
Matt was busy unloading her case from the boot.
"I've just remembered.
That phone call we had a couple of days ago - the drunken, abusive one."
"They've all been drunken and abusive for quite some time."
Tamsen didn't miss the venom in his voice.
"I never called her back."
She felt the wail rising in her voice.
"Gina'll hate me."
Matt brushed the hair out of her eyes, tipped her chin with his finger and almost looked straight through her.
"She was so drunk she probably won't even remember making the call.
Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."
"Do you think so?"
"I think so.
Now stop upsetting yourself and let's go and get this over with.
I mean, really - how much trouble can a mad, drunken woman be?"
It hit her as soon as she opened the door.
A foul stench that hung in the air, reminding Tamsen of the stink that comes from public toilets.
She shuddered.
"Fuck.
What's that smell?"
Matt's mood wasn't getting any better.
"I have no idea."
She spoke the truth.
What the hell could Gina have gotten up to?
Five days away and the world fell apart.
"I'll open the French doors and see if that helps."
Matt headed off toward the lounge and Tamsen started for her room.
No doubt her irresponsible friend would be sleeping off another hangover.
Partway down the corridor she called back to Matt, "I don't know if the windows will help - it seems to be getting worse the further down the hall I'm getting."
He brought her suitcase down to her bedroom.
"You don't think the cat's gotten trapped somewhere and died, do you?"
"Oh, gross."
Tamsen shuddered.
"Don't say that, Matt.
Azzie's pretty clever - and besides, there's not really anywhere he can get trapped." She added, "And besides I had Janice on the third floor keep an eye on him. I didn't think Gina could be trusted to make sure he got fed every night."
"Good thinking. What about the mad woman's room, could he be stuck in there with her?"
"Well...I don't know."
"Seems to smell worse up that end of the hallway." Matt screwed up his nose. It only added to his charm.
"It smells foul everywhere."
She hunted around in her drawer for some vanilla incense; that helped with most things.
"Why don't I go and check Gina's room anyway?"
"Not a good idea.
If she's in there, you're the last person she'd want to see."
He grumbled, "She's not exactly top of my hit parade either, but don't you think we should do something about this smell? It's disgusting."
"Here..." Tamsen held up a packet of incense sticks. The frankincense scent reminded her of church, but they were the only ones available for the moment. "Light some of these and pop them in the holders around the house - it'll help with the smell."
"Finding the source would help more."
"Maybe darling Gina can help us with that." Tamsen couldn't help the sarcastic tone, it almost matched his.
It wasn't on, she thought, coming home to this mess.
She could feel months of frustration building, ready to explode.
She'd made so many concessions for Gina's atrocious behavior - constantly repairing ailing friendships, smoothing over ruffled family members, dealing with despairing employers, not to mention the chaos the woman was causing with Matthew.
Enough was enough.
It was time to admit this just wasn't working.
Tamsen knocked on the door and waited.
The smell was definitely worse near Gina’s room.
Could
Azriel have gotten trapped there?
Her stomach knotted, the tension ratcheting up another notch.
Confrontations were just the pits, but at least she had Matt here with her for support.
He'd need to stay well out of the firing line, Gina could likely detonate, but then at least he'd be here for Tamsen afterward, a huge help with the post-explosive fallout.
Her own little bomb shelter.
"Gina, are you in here?"
Tamsen opened the door and was assaulted by an almost solid wall of the smell; she could damn near taste it, choking on it at the back of her throat.
The room was dark and warm and it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dim light; Gina never opened the blinds even though Tamsen always told her it was unhealthy.
She turned on the light and felt her knees go weak.
She'd found the source.
Overcome by nausea, she gripped the doorframe for support.
"Matt!"
"What is it now, babe?"
She had no words.
Opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Gaping, she thought of her fish.
"Oh fuck!" His words rang in her ears.
She felt his arms around her and then her knees did give way.
With Matt still holding her, the two of them slumped to the floor as if their bones had turned to rubber, unable to hold the weight of their flesh.
She didn't know if she wanted to laugh hysterically or cry.
Maybe screaming would be the best option, but she had the absurd thought that seemed melodramatic.
There.
In the middle of the room, suspended over one of her hard-won wrought-iron dining chairs that had been kicked out from under her, was Gina.
She was so obviously dead, all the life seemed to suck itself out of Tamsen too.
"She's hung herself."
An unemotional bald statement of fact.
"I know."
Matt's voice was a whisper.
She felt the words on the side of her neck.
"I suppose we know what the smell is now."
A little giggle escaped from her throat.
She couldn't stop it.
Somehow it didn't feel inappropriate.
"We do."
Rocking her gently backwards and forwards, he made her feel safe and she didn't want him to stop.
She couldn't stop staring either.
She'd never seen a dead person; an urge to avert her eyes was competing with a need to gawk.
A need to work out what the hell had gone through Gina's mind to get her to this final place.
Tamsen didn't think Gina would mind her staring.
She looked sort of serene, as if all her cares had been released - which in a way, she supposed, they had.