Testing The Limits (6 page)

Oh God Oh God Oh God I can't think I can't think I I I I …

Pussy. Throbbing. Nipples. The pain. Alive. I am alive.

This. Him. Me.
Me.

All about me.

Every inch of me.

Alive.

Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me

Yes. Fingers, there. Push them in. More. More. Fill me. Please fill me. I need more. Fuck me fuck me fuck me-

-yes. There.
There.

Pull my nipples. Harder. Hurt me. Hurt me! I feel. I need to feel.

I cannot see. I can't see. I just feel. I … I am.

I'm coming. Am I coming? Oh God I am coming-

My ass is full, my pussy is full oh God-

Now his cock is in me. I feel it. His body, crushing me. Nipples, burning.

Oh
God

Yes-

I'm still coming, I'm dying, surely I am dying-

I arch, I scream, this must end; no body can-

No body could take this-

-endless-

Still he slams into me, still I am flying, floating, adrift, torn apart.

I am coming, I am coming, I - I - I…

* * * *

I don't know if I lost consciousness or what, but it felt like waking up from a deep sleep. My ass was kinda sore and my nipples hurt, and my pussy sure knew it had had a pounding. I was alone on the bed, curled on my side, a sheet pulled up over me.

I rolled onto my back. The room was empty. I felt a strange plummeting sensation in the pit of my stomach. So he just upped and left me? After all that?

All
what?
Jeez but that was the craziest orgasm I had ever had. And while I wanted another, just like it, a part of me did not. It was too intense. I couldn't handle stuff like that.

I had. I told myself I had handled it. I was a queen, remember!

No, I was
his
queen and therefore I needed him to reassure me of that. I pulled on a robe and walked unsteadily through to find him.

The rush of relief was like a hot shower of water over me. He sat there on the couch, looking mighty pleased with himself, as well he should, I guess.

As soon as I entered the room, though, he rose to his feet, glancing at his watch. That tiny movement crushed me. I approached him almost nervously, holding out my arms.

He smiled warmly and took me into his embrace. I clung to him, waiting for words of love and tenderness.

"I've got to be going," he said.

"But…"

"Don't worry." He stroked my hair, calming me. "You were amazing. Wasn't that fun? I promised you devotion and you got it."

Fun? He had no idea how it had felt. "Yes, it was amazing. Thank you."

"You're most welcome." He sounded lightly amused. I was still shaking, reeling, my heart burst open. I had not known I was capable of feeling so much.

"Please, can't you stay a little longer?"

He laughed. "Oh, you silly thing. I would love to. But you've slept for half an hour, and I need to get back; it's gone midnight, and I have to be on a train at six in the morning. I'm sorry, Jas. But surely you need some sleep as much as I do. So go on, have something to eat perhaps, and curl up in bed while it's still warm."

I longed to retire to bed - with him. But his logic was true, and painful. He pulled away, pecked a chaste kiss on my forehead, and left.

* * * *

I couldn't sleep. I got to that point where my brain just wouldn't shut up. I lay in bed, throbbing and tingling, and feeling so strangely alone that it almost hurt.

Part of me was appalled at myself. Me, Jasmine Turner, hard-ass bitch and go-getter extraordinaire, lying here in the dark wanting to be embraced! Jeez it was embarrassing. Since when did I need a man to complete me?

I knew the answer. Since Andrew Walker-Wilkinson unlocked secret rooms in my heart.

And then left.

I knew he hadn't
left
left. You know, walked out on me or anything. But right now I needed him here, to hold me and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Maybe I needed the reassurance that it wasn't just sex and I wasn't just meat.

I knew he cared for me. I would never ask a man to prove it. I'd never, ever be that clingy sort of woman who constantly needed reassurance.

And my throat was raw from refusing to cry about it.

* * * *

The following day was a weird one. I had a couple meetings which went well, but the afternoon was blocked out in my schedule so I could research on premises and business use and all the new insane shit I had to learn about rules and regulations and city ordinance laws in the UK. I struggled to keep my mind on things.

Finally I called up Carlee. I hadn't spoken to her for so long, and I'd ignored her calls. But true friendship never dies, right?

Oh, it dies. I learned that within a few moments of our conversation.

"So what do you need?" was her opening line.

"Hey, how you doing?" I said. "What's the weather like?"

"Hitting the high eighties. Humidity like one hundred percent and all. So what do you want from me?"

"Just checking in." I had a bad feeling. "You know. It's been kinda crazy here but things are settling down and I thought it was about time I touched base. How's Craig?"

"He left me."

"Shit, no, when?"

"Oh, about two weeks ago. I called you. But, you know. You were busy. I get that."

"Hell, I'm sorry."

"S'okay."

The silence stretched out between us. I would have done anything to reach through and give her a hug across the miles. But it felt like there was more than an ocean separating us.

"I've been a terrible friend, haven't I?" I said.

"You've been busy."

"It's no excuse."

"No, it's not. Look, I've gotta go. I'm in the parking lot and sweating my ass off."

"Can I call you later?" I had to ask.

"I'm going out."

An excuse. "Right. Okay, well, have a good time."

"Sure. You too."

Then she was gone, just like that, and I felt more alone than ever.

* * * *

No.
No.
This was not me. This was not Jas. It was time I got ahold of the situation. So what if my old friends fell by the wayside? I could always make new ones. So what if my family didn't want to know me? You never got to choose your family anyhow.

Life was what you made of it, right?

I'd been working hard. It was time to make a real life for myself. I realized that living in the same city all my life had made me lazy. I needed to smarten myself up and learn to adapt. What about military kids who went from base to base? They didn't sit around whining about being all lonely, did they? Well, maybe some of them did. But they had skills of resilience and adaptation, and so would I.

Of course it was kinda hard from a standing start. Without even a set workplace, I was at a disadvantage. I needed to join a gym and start going to some exercise classes; that was obvious. What else could I do? I didn't want to go to bars or join some part time college classes.

So who else did I know in London?

Amjad.

I dug his contact card out. I'd kept it the way I kept any networking chance. You just never knew what would be useful. And though I had no burning desire to make a friend of him, I could only start from the position I was currently in. Perhaps he was married. I could ask his wife for advice about gyms, or nice cafes, or places to hang out.

It seemed improbable but I had to grasp opportunities and if there were no opportunity to grasp, then I'd goddamn make one.

I called him up, my heart beating hard, but I stood up while I spoke to him and mustered all my confidence.

"Hey, Amjad, it's Jasmine." Shit, he would remember me, wouldn't he? I hadn't spoken to him since he drove me home after that terrible night and he'd given me his card. He'd driven us around a little but he'd been silent, the proper English servant thing. "Uh, so, you said to call you if I … if I …"

"If you needed anything. Yes, of course. How may I help?"

He sounded so calm and pleasant. And actually happy to talk to me.

"Yeah, this is kinda a strange request, but I don't know anyone in London yet and I thought maybe I could talk to you about checking out places to go and that? You know, some local knowledge is super helpful."

"But yes. Would you like to come around for supper tonight?"

"I don't want to impose," I started to say. Then I realized how over-apologetic and goddamn
British
I'd gotten, so I laughed and said, "Sure, actually, you know what? That sounds great. I'll bring some wine."

"I do not drink. Simply bring yourself, and that will be enough. It is my pleasure to help out." He gave me his address, and a time, and I had a few hours to put myself and my work affairs in order for the day.

* * * *

I rode in a cab to his house. It was a quiet residential part of London, maybe forty minutes or so from the center. I hoped fervently that he did have a wife. I started to wonder how this would look to Andrew, but pushed it out of my mind immediately. He had control over my body but he could never, would never say how I spent my free time.

Amjad must have been waiting by the window or listening for the slam of the cab door because he was there on the front step, silhouetted against a warmly lit hallway, welcoming me in.

"Please. Your coat? Thank you. Come through. You are well?"

"I'm good, yeah, thanks. So, nice house you got here. I hope I'm not intruding…"

"No, no, no! Please. Through here."

He led me into a strangely sparse living room. There were two enormous leather couches, a bare fireplace with artificial flowers in the space for the fire, and very rich, densely patterned wallpaper. It would have felt opulent but for the lack of
things
- no television, no ornaments, no pictures. It was a show room, untouched and unused. Visitors only, I guessed.

Amjad was dressed in a polo shirt and cream slacks. He waved me to the far couch, and stayed by the door, smiling warmly. "Would you like some tea? Or coffee, maybe?"

I was learning to like the way people made tea here, and I didn't want to stay awake all night with a coffee. "Uh, tea, please. Thank you."

"One moment."

He disappeared and I was left feeling awkward, sitting on the couch as if I were waiting to be called into an interview. Cooking smells wafted through as the doors opened and closed, and then he was back with a tray. He balanced the tray on the other couch while he fetched a small folding table that was stashed behind that couch, and then took his seat opposite me.

"I feel kinda silly now," I told him. "You're very kind."

He shrugged. "What we give, we receive nine-fold in heaven."

"Ri-ight. Do you … live alone?" It was a perfectly normal question but I felt I might be taken as impolite, I didn't know why.

"My wife, she is not here," he said, and though his words were sad, his face kept on smiling.

And what did that mean? Ill, divorced, on holiday, working? I didn't want to start jumping to stereotypical assumptions about his culture or faith here, but I wanted to know. Well, Brits all thought we Americans were rude and brash, so that kinda gave me an excuse to push on with my questions. "Oh, where is she?"

"Her mother is sick. How is your tea?"

"It's great, thanks," I said automatically, before I'd even taken a sip, and then waved my hand at my blatant lie. "Sorry. Yeah. Okay, so, I'm sorry about your wife's mother. Maybe when she comes back, I might get to meet her? I realized lately that I haven't been making many friends here." Scratch that. I hadn't been making
any
friends here. "And the way I work, I can't start mixing with co-workers, because I don't have any. So I guess I need to ask around, ask people that I already know and trust, for a bit of help."

"Networking?"

"Social networking, yes. Can you recommend a gym?"

"There are many gyms."

"Sure, I pass a dozen a day. But if you or your wife go to one, then I can go in and say you sent me, you know. You might get a referral fee. It gives me a conversation starter."

"I do not go to a gym."

Jeez. This was painful. This was a huge, massive mistake. I was going to have to go back to the drawing board with this one. What was I even thinking? You couldn't engineer friendship like this.

And I still had the meal to get through. I could fake a sudden stomach ache, but then he'd have gone to all the effort for nothing.