Twenty Tones of Red (22 page)

B
ound incredibly tightly James pushed her down the bar towards the waiting customers then forced her onto her knees. He ordered another drink as he undid his flies and thrust his cock into her mouth. He pushed hard, pinning her head against the wooden bar and leaving her held by the strength and size of his erection. She was gagging and drooling but quite helpless to resist.

It ha
d been at that point that she’d started to wake up but the scene was still so fresh in her mind she was able to continue the story in her own imagination. Rolling onto her front she arched herself up into doggy position and reached back to start stroking her clit. Now that she was producing her own pleasure she went back to the fantasy and made it even more outrageous.

She made James
urinate on her. It was a wild idea but alone in the middle of the night she allowed her erotic self to run free. She imagined what it would be like to be degraded in such a way and got even more turned on. She visualised his hot piss spraying over her helpless face and trickling down her body and heard the mocking laughter of the other drinkers. God it was so horny. Her orgasm started to rise and she actually slowed her hand a little so that she could prolong the moment.

James took another swig of his drink then
thrust his prick back into her mouth. She spent time focusing on the details of how it would feel; the taste of him, the texture of the tight skin and throbbing veins on his big solid penis and what it would be like for his hot pee to be running down her tummy and trickling between her legs.

She needed a scene to bring everything to a climax and decided to have James lift her
onto the counter. His strong arms swept up her helplessly bound body onto the wet bar-top and the other drinkers crowded round and poured the remains of their drinks over her. For a while she knelt; sticky, soaking wet and helpless then James and his companions found more rope and tied her legs to either side of the bar so that she couldn’t close them. Her pussy was held open in the bright lights for everybody to see and the exhibitionist in her absolutely loved it. It was then that James calmly and very casually walked his fingers down her tummy and slipped them inside her.

Sh
e reached her peak and bucked and moaned with intense pleasure before falling flat onto the warm mattress. Oh what bliss.  If only James knew how much pleasure he could bring her just by being a figure in her fantasies. With images of his handsome face and chiselled jaw line swimming around her mind she drifted back into a deep peaceful sleep.

She waited a whole day before texting him and suggesting dinner that Friday night. To test his commitment she chose a restaurant called ‘The Square’, a famous eatery in Mayfair with two Michelin stars and a great reputation. He immediately accepted and with the date set she decided to treat herself to something new to wear. Jen agreed to accompany her on a series of shopping trips to the West End and they had a lot of fun rummaging through the racks of clothes. She chose a beautiful little black dress and a black velvet jacket then selected a pair of silky stay up stockings as a little reminder of their weekend in the country. He might not get to see them, but she would know that they were there.

On the day itself she abandoned any idea of keeping the date secret. She let all the girls at work know and they decided to stay behind and help her get ready. She showered and changed in the little bathroom behind reception while the girls drank wine and peered out of the window to see if they could catch a glimpse of James.

“
God! Has he got a chauffeur?” Amy shouted when his big car pulled up outside. Siobhan glanced out of the window to check that it was him then after blowing kisses to all her friends set off excitedly down the steps to the front entrance.

             
James was sitting behind the wheel in a smart pair of grey woollen trousers and a dark formal shirt. His face flashed into a smile when he saw her climb in and then he very naturally and casually leant forward to give her a peck on the cheek.

T
hey set off south towards Mayfair and on the way she asked him why he had such a big car. It turned out that the vehicle had indeed once been used to chauffeur demanding pop-stars around London but he kept it because it helped him feel calm.

“Calm?” she asked.

“
Yes, the ride’s very smooth and it makes me more relaxed and tolerant behind the wheel. I can’t drive those fast little sports cars, they just make me manic.”

She was interested in
why he needed to stay calm but when she asked him about it he stopped her.

“
Listen. How about we do life stories over dinner? But you go first.”

It seemed
like a good idea and she started to tell him about her childhood in Yorkshire. He listened attentively as he manoeuvred them through the rush hour traffic and she was impressed by his concentration. She was just getting to the events of her late teens when he pulled to a halt in a parking space a few hundred yards from the restaurant. As they walked towards the entrance he put a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to steer her forward and she felt an exquisite electric shiver at his touch.

The d
oorman opened the door and the next few minutes were a whirl of action. The maitre d’ greeted them enthusiastically and took them straight to a table in the back corner of the big room. When they’d got themselves comfortable he suggested that they both try the tasting menu. This was eighteen very small courses that would enable them to experience the full range of the chef’s abilities. It sounded excellent and he went on to suggest that the sommelier choose an appropriate wine for each of the dishes.

“I’m not sure I could drink eighteen
glasses of wine,” she said with a smile and he laughed.

“
No, I think you can have the same type with several courses.”

When he gave the waiter their order
she was intrigued to see that he didn’t request any alcohol for himself; only a tonic water with lemon.

“You could have a few drinks i
f you’re eating can’t you?” she asked.

“
No,” he shook his head. “I don’t touch any alcohol at all now. Can’t.”

She’d seen him with
the same drink in the pub in Camden but she’d assumed that there was gin or vodka in it. Now curious she started to ask him about his drinking but he stopped her and reminded her that she hadn’t finished her life story. She returned to her personal history and was describing her time at university when she was served a glass of champagne and a small ball of hot crumbly pastry filled with a frothy lobster mousse. It was amazing; seeming to melt on her tongue before exploding with glorious savoury flavour. When she’d swallowed and taken a few more sips she continued with an overview of her time at school. He asked insightful and pertinent questions and for a long time became fully absorbed in the process of explaining herself and nibbling on the scrumptious little dishes and mind-blowing wines that were being brought to her at regular intervals.

She was glad t
hat he was happy to brush over the end of her relationship with David and when he was finally certain that he knew about her whole life from start to finish he sat back and congratulated her on her achievements. She had never seen her degree or her job as achievements before but he very genuinely and sincerely pointed out that she’d been very successful at a young age and she had done all the work herself.

Feeling warm and relaxed from the food
and delighted with his rapt attention she insisted that he take his turn. He did and the first thing she was amazed to discover was that he had been brought up above a record shop just a couple of streets away from her office in Camden. She couldn’t imagine babies or toddlers running around in the heart of north London but he assured her that he had very much grown up on the streets. His father had been a DJ, record collector and music promoter and his mother has been an artist and photographer.

W
hile it sounded like an incredibly creative environment to be born into, James was quick to point out that Bohemian parents could be a tad neglectful and he and Charlie had been left on their own quite a lot. When she heard the name Charlie she had assumed that he had a brother but it turned out that Charlotte was his older sister who now lived and worked in Australia.

James continued by telling her
about his education. He admitted that he hadn’t really applied himself to school and genuinely didn’t recall ever taking an exam. He said that in his teenage years he’d traded records in the market at the weekend and sold a bit of cannabis, or what he called ‘blow’. When pressed about his other entrepreneurial activities he also admitted to fencing stolen goods from time to time.

“
You sound like the artful dodger!” she exclaimed and he smiled and nodded.

“
Yes, not far from the truth. I fear.”

It seemed that in the summers he
had worked putting up big tents and marquees for special events. Touching his shoulders he explained that he’d developed big muscles wielding the heavy mallets that hammered the pegs into the ground. He also admitted that he and his mates would hang around after the events and inevitably get invited in for free food and drink. It sounded like hard work but also something of a non-stop party.

When he was a little bit
older he’d got a job as a cycle courier and had loved whizzing around London at high speed. He touched his nose and collarbone and described how they had both got broken when careless drivers had opened their doors without looking. It sounded dramatic but he shrugged and dismissed it as an occupational hazard.

At around this time h
e was still working in the market at weekends and started to develop an interest in vintage clothing, particularly mod classics. It seemed that because of his DJing and his access to rare garments he got involved with the London music scene and started to help source props and classic jackets for video shoots. As he had his mother’s artistic eye he’d soon got involved in setting up shots and then started helping the directors. It wasn’t long before he was making videos himself. It sounded fascinating and she was impressed by how matter of fact he was about his rise to success. There was no arrogance or bluff in him at all. He was surprisingly self-deprecating and it made him wonderfully endearing and easy to get along with.

The one thing h
e hadn’t mentioned was why he didn’t drink any alcohol and she was still curious to find out.

“Ah
that yes...” He rubbed his jaw line and his eyes glazed for a moment. “Yeah well, that’s quite a story.”

“
Go on then,” she urged. They were now perhaps on their eleventh or twelfth course and she was delightfully merry from the delicious wines that she’d been sampling.

“
Okay, so my routine was to get up early and have a coffee and a joint while I flicked through my records and chose what I wanted to sell and which ones to play in my next DJ set. Then I’d go off to a video shoot and we’d all work like mad on nothing but coffee and bits of sandwiches. Of course in the industry there’s also a load of charlie.” He paused and checked that she knew he meant cocaine. “So we’d keep ourselves going with tons of lines and at the end of a long shoot we’d all get invited to a bar or club somewhere and start the serious drinking. I loved my booze and the charlie helps you really cane it without getting sleepy. So I was snorting lines like a Hoover and knocking back the vodkas and I’d get to bed at about three and wake up just a couple of hours later and do the whole thing again.”

It sounded exhaustin
g and she asked him how long he was able to live like that.

“
Well that’s an interesting point. How long can a human survive that kind of abuse? I managed to do several years then everything went a bit pear shaped.”

She leant forward and he continued.

“O
ne morning I’m in a taxi and suddenly I slide to the floor and discover that I can’t breathe properly. I feel like everybody’s out to get me and I’m too scared to look out of the window. It’s a full on panic attack but luckily the cabbie notices and takes me straight to A and E.” He paused for a moment then smiled shyly and pointed his index finger at her. “You’ve met him actually. We’re best mates now and it was him who drove you home that time.”

She widened her eyes in ac
knowledgement then nodded to encourage him to continue.

“So, i
n the hospital they give me a sedative and listen to my heart. Evidently it’s not working normally at all and is actually just doing mental jungle rhythms. I’m just a few beats away from a heart attack. So the doctor quizzes me about my lifestyle and I’m fairly honest. They tell me that if I don’t change everything I’ll soon be dead. It was a pretty clear warning.”

She took a sip of wine. He’d paused and she noticed that
tears were welling in the corners of his eyes. “So go on. What happened? Did you change everything?”

He laughed and
his face wrinkled with sadness and humour, now more Robert De Niro than George Clooney. “No. Did I fuck. I carried on. I managed another year or so then the panic attacks came back.” Wow. She could see that he was finding this part of the story quite difficult and without thinking took his hand in hers. “So what happened?”