Fifty Days of Sin (10 page)

I can’t speak; all I can do is
look into his beautiful face as I get my breath back. His eyes are
dark with erotic intent. His mouth comes down on mine again, and I
taste my juices on his tongue. I’m touching him again, luxuriating
in the feel of the firm muscles of his chest, and then my hand
trails down, down to the delicious hardness of his erection.

And then he’s on top of me,
forcing my legs far apart with shocking suddenness. I reach out a
hand and open the bedside drawer, pulling out the little box of
condoms. Fumbling again, I try to get the foil packets out of the
container with my shaking hand. Then Adam takes it from me, and
with admirable speed extracts a foil packet, tears it and rolls the
sheath onto his rock-hard erection.

He pauses to look deep into my
eyes again, and I stare back up at him, wet and waiting and
desperate for him to penetrate me.

And at last he’s inside me. He
thrusts hard, and I cry out as I feel his full impressive length
fill me completely. I pull his face down and we kiss desperately as
he moves in and out of me, and my hands move down his body to grip
his behind as if I can pull him inside me even further. He moves
his face away to gaze down at me, and I look back up at him,
watching the change in his face as his pleasure increases. Seeing
him with his defences completely down just arouses me further.

Pushing my hips up to meet him,
spreading my legs wide as he slams himself into me again and again,
I feel complete, as if at last I’ve met the man I need with me, in
my life, in my bed, inside me, wanting him to possess me
completely, to claim every inch of my body for his own, and then he
rams himself into me harder still and I feel him pulse inside me as
he reaches his climax, pushing inside hard for the last time as he
cries out my name and comes.

We lie together for a long time,
drowsy. I nestle my head on his chest and he strokes my hair, my
shoulder, my arm, just revelling in the feeling of touching each
other, not needing to speak. It’s bliss; and it’s better, somehow,
than it’s been with anyone else before. In the short time that I’ve
known him, Adam has become very special to me indeed; I’ve never
felt this way.

And then as I trail my hand
lazily across his chest, something inside me freezes as, suddenly,
I remember what I was supposed to come clean about before any of
this happened.

I haven’t told him about
Michael.

Wednesday, 25 April

“
OKAY, THAT’S
ENOUGH FOR TODAY,” I tell the students who are assembled in the
lecture hall. As ever, there’s a desperate scramble to pack up
papers, pens and phones and grab cardigans and jackets from the
backs of chairs. They always seem to be in a desperate rush to be
out of the hall in the shortest time possible.

I pack away my things and watch
their retreating backs, allowing my mind to return to thoughts of
Adam. I pull my phone out of my bag and check my messages. It’s
been on silent – I tell the students to switch off their phones, so
it wouldn’t look good for me to get a call in the middle of a
lecture – and sure enough, there’s one from Adam. My heart thumps
and I open it.

Things are going well with Adam.
Really, really well. I was worried sick about telling him that I’d
been seeing another man, but I knew I had to for the sake of
honesty.

When I did manage to pluck up
the courage to broach the subject, Adam was surprisingly unruffled.
He seemed to accept the situation and if it bothered him he didn’t
let it show.

Needless to say, I arranged to
see Michael the next day afterwards and told him that our
relationship was over. I had not been looking forward to the
conversation at all. I’d been expecting him to be hurt, but nothing
would have prepared me for how devastated I made him. I knew
Michael loved the special kind of relationship we had together, but
I didn’t fully grasp just how emotionally attached he had become to
me.

So, breaking up was painful:
difficult for Michael to accept, and hard for me to stand firm and
resist his entreaties to change my mind. But I knew I had to be
strong and tell him straight that we couldn’t see each other any
more. In truth, since consummating my relationship with Adam, I
really haven’t looked at anyone else, so there was no temptation to
give in to Michael’s pleading. Wanting to be monogamous is a new
experience for me, and I have to admit that I like it.

I read Adam’s message: he wants
me to come over to his place tonight. I smile and feel a warm glow
inside, then hit ‘reply’. I’ve already arranged to meet Kathy, Matt
and Simon tonight for a drink, so I agree to go to Adam’s but ask
if he wants to come along for a couple of pints first and meet some
of my friends. My tummy does a little flip; it will be the first
time he’s met any of them.

Adam’s reply pings back almost
immediately. He’s looking forward to it.

******

I’VE AGREED TO MEET ADAM AT the
Royal Oak pub, and I turn up a little early, getting there before
him, to see Simon waiting for me. He’s only just arrived too, so he
buys me a drink – he insists on paying - as he gets his beer. I
choose a small glass of red wine, as they serve quite a nice Merlot
by the glass here.

We hardly have time to discuss
the typical late April weather – in like a lion, out like a lamb,
the old saying goes, and today fits in with that perfectly: mild
with a soft breeze and a reddening sky that promises a fair day
tomorrow. Then I see Simon looking fixedly over my shoulder and I
turn around to see Adam striding through the room towards us. The
sight of him lifts my heart. He really is entirely beautiful: his
face, his body, his whole being, I could just look at him all day
long and be happy.

Now I’m conjecturing what sort
of first impression Simon is getting, and as I glance back at my
friend’s face I am surprised to see a strange look pass over his
face, before he composes his features and schools himself to greet
Adam politely. I don’t know what to read into that look. Could it
have been envy?

“Hi, Justine,” he says, putting
an arm round me.

“Hi. This is Simon. Simon, this
is Adam.”

Adam greets him and shakes his
outstretched hand. Simon apologises that we’ve already bought some
drinks. Adam waves away his offer to buy him a pint and says he’ll
get some in when my other friends arrive. We find a table big
enough for all of us.

Adam is just starting to answer
Simon’s question on what he does for a living when Kathy and Matt
arrive, along with Matt’s girlfriend Kelly. “Adam!” exclaims Matt.
“Had no idea you were Justine’s new bloke. Small world!”

Adam looks pointedly at his
watch. “Six thirty? I hope that discretionary trust documentation
is waiting on my desk...”

“Bugger, I didn’t realise I’d
see you here,” he says with an exaggerated look of comical guilt.
“Don’t tell me you need it first thing tomorrow? I don’t fancy
going in at half past five in the morning.”

“Six will do,” replies Adam
genially. “You were just asking about my job, weren’t you, Simon?
Well, Matt can tell you.”

“Yeah, basically he’s the office
slave-driver,” jokes Matt. “Unfortunately he’s my boss, so I have
to put up with him eight hours a day, five days a week. Or, in
fact, twelve hours a day six days a week, if Adam has his way.”

“Ah, but you can get Justine to
persuade him to go easy on you now,” suggests Simon. “Anyway, hi,
Kathy, hi, Kelly, nice to see you.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Adam.
“I’ve heard lots about you from Justine, Kathy. But not much about
you from Matt, Kelly. I discourage my subordinates from having
personal conversations at work. It ruins their concentration.”

“Oh, right,” says Kelly, unsure
whether he’s joking or not. Then he winks at her, and she realises
it’s okay to laugh.

“So what the fuck is it that you
do anyway?” asks Simon. “Adam was about to tell me, but then you
turned up and apparently I’m supposed to already know all about
your job, Matt. Don’t you do some kind of office thing?”

“Yeah, some kind of office
thing, how eloquently you’ve put it. In fact that’s the precise
wording on my employment contract.”

“They work at Grantham and
James,” Kathy tells Simon. “You know, the big accountancy firm. In
the legal department. Honestly, Simon, you have a memory like a
sieve.”

“Not really. When you put things
through a sieve you keep the things you want to and lose the things
you don’t. My brain isn’t quite like that. I can tell you what
Piers Gaveston wore at Edward the Second’s coronation. But I can’t
tell you what I had for dinner three days ago.”

“But do you really need to
remember what you had for dinner three days ago?” I ask him.

“No, I suppose not,” he grins.
“But it would be useful to remember other things that I keep
forgetting too. Like people’s names, and what they do for a
living.”

“Isn’t it useful to remember
what Piers Whats-his-name wore at whatever coronation it was you
were talking about?” asks Kelly.

“No, not really. Except possibly
when I’m watching University Challenge. I don’t use my historical
knowledge any more now in my job.”

“What
do
you do, Simon?” asks
Adam.

“God knows. Can’t remember what
people do for a living, can I?”

Even Kelly realises she should
laugh at this. Then he tells Adam he’s a freelance journalist.
Simon enjoys his job, but the remuneration isn’t ideal: he’s fairly
low paid, and his income is unreliable, which is why he’s eking out
a half pint of Heineken lager until someone else buys a drink.

Adam gets up to buy a round for
everyone and Simon asks for a pint and a packet of crisps. While
Adam is at the bar, Matt leans over conspiratorially to me and
whispers loudly, “Bloody hell, Justine, you’ve fallen on your feet,
haven’t you?”

I am a bit surprised, but I
reply quietly with a smile, “Yes, he’s lovely, isn’t he?”

“I don’t mean that,” he goes on.
“Loaded. Absolutely loaded.”

“Really?” My eyebrows shoot up.
This is the first I’ve heard about it.

“Don’t you know?” asks Matt as
all the others around the table listen interestedly.

“Matt, do you really think you
should be telling me this?” I ask, looking around at Adam. He’s at
the bar and looks like he’s out of earshot, but I don’t want to be
talking about him behind his back, or hearing things that are a bit
personal.

“It’s not a secret that all the
directors at Grantham and James are on six-figure packages,” he
replies. “Or that Adam’s on track to for partner within six months
– he’ll be the youngest partner they’ve ever made.”

I’m taken aback. I hadn’t
thought about Adam’s income at all. I suppose I assumed he was
comfortable. But his bank balance really doesn’t matter to me.

“I had no idea, Matt, and I
don’t think it’s really any of my business unless he wants to tell
me.”

“Just thought you’d already
know,” he says, holding his hands up. “I thought he’d have a flash
car and live in a massive house. With a butler,” he adds as a
joke.

“I haven’t even seen his house
yet.” Of course, he’s right about the car, but I keep quiet about
that. “Anyway, can we change the subject? Kathy, how is your mum
now? It’s a couple of months since she had that surgical procedure,
isn’t it?”

Adam returns with his sparkling
water and the others’ drinks as we talk about the pre-cancerous
mole that Kathy’s mum had removed. I breathe a sigh of relief that
he didn’t hear us talking about him. I don’t suppose he’d have been
particularly offended, but I don’t want to be rude discussing his
private affairs behind his back. That said, I’m wondering now what
his home will be like, after Matt has built up my expectations. I
stifle a small smile to myself as the comical mental picture of
Adam being waited on by a butler flashes into my imagination.

“That looks like a secret
smile,” Adam whispers into my ear as the others carry on their
conversation. “Now I’m curious about what’s going on in your
head.”

I turn to look into his eyes.
It’s obvious that he thinks I’m having dirty thoughts about him,
and this triggers a completely different memory. In my mind’s eye,
I see Adam looking down at me as he enters me, his full length
thrusting hard inside me as I grip his behind with my hands and
pull him in harder, faster, loving the feeling and wanting
more.

“You’ll just have to wonder,” I
tell him, smiling even more.

Despite being pleased that Adam
is meeting some of my friends, I couldn’t help being nervous
earlier today about what he would think of them – particularly
Simon. My old sparring partner from when I read History here as an
undergraduate has a habit of teasing me about my unconventional sex
life. And although I’ve come clean to Adam now about Michael, I
don’t relish the idea of Simon bringing up the subject of my
lifestyle. But Simon leaves it alone for once, and when we leave
and head home, I feel like Adam’s first introduction to my friends
has been a success.

“I had no idea you knew Matt,” I
comment as I climb into the car and Adam shuts the door after me.
He gets into the driver’s seat.

“Oh, Matt’s a bit of a star, as
it happens,” he replies. “He’ll go far.”

I decide not to question him
regarding their work, feeling a little awkward about the
information Matt volunteered regarding Adam’s financial position.
But then as he drives us through Oxford and out towards the
outskirts, and pulls up in the driveway of a large detached house,
I wonder if Matt wasn’t exaggerating.

“Is this your place?” I ask,
incredulous at its size. It looks like an awfully large house for
just one person. Maybe he needs the space for the butler after
all.