The Sweet Caress (8 page)

Luke was spending Christmas Day at his sister’s house some fifty miles away. He did not invite Jessica to join him there because he felt she might feel a family affair at such an emotional time as Christmas would suggest more of a
commitment than she was ready to accept, and he would have been right. Instead, he asked her to celebrate Christmas with him over dinner at Wiggin’s Tavern. A meal there on Christmas night meant old world New England dressed in pine and spruce and red ribbon, wreathes of holly, fresh apples and oranges and nuts, open fires, and a relay of carol singers. The men wearing black tie and the women long dresses and the children in their best party frocks. The menu was always the same: traditional New England Christmas fare of turkey with all the trimmings, and a fine claret.

Jessica knew that he was inviting her to dinner at Wiggin’s Tavern for
her
and she declined the invitation, for
him
. ‘Two traditional Christmas dinners in one day?’ she said. ‘No, I think not. Why don’t you come to dinner at Rose Cottage for our Christmas?’

He accepted.

Her invitation to Tom for that evening was a spur of the moment decision. She had been inspired to ask him when a few days before Christmas he had remarked that the best Christmas he had ever had was in Shanghai in the company of a young and beautiful woman, the mistress of a friend of his. She had been given to him for one night as a Christmas present. Her name was Jade and she had been instructed by her lover to amuse him with a night of sex, food, and other playmates, both men and women. Christmas had never seemed the same after that.

On Christmas Day a blizzard came whirling down from Canada and struck New England, crippling Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire. Luke was stranded in Connecticut and missed Jessica’s Christmas night dinner, ten succulent north Chinese dishes cooked to perfection.

In Rose Cottage she and Tom had just sampled the succulent Peking duck when Tom rose from his chair and made room for Jessica on the table. Taking her by the hands,
he helped her from her chair and removed from her the ivory chopsticks she was still holding. He placed them across a bowl and led her round to the end of the table where he told her, ‘I know a better way to consume this Christmas feast.’ He raised the skirt of her evening dress and placed his hands round her waist to lift her on to the table. Tom joined her there with trousers undone and his sex rampant. He wrapped her legs round his middle and thrust himself into her. Raising her on and off him several times, he felt the rush of warmth, that special female nectar sweeter than any drink of the gods.

Tom was enchanted with her erotic freedom; from his first sight of her he had sensed that he would be. He undid the zip at the back of her dress and dropped it off her shoulders to expose her breasts. He felt the weight of them in his hands and was delighted by how sensitive they were to his fondling of them. Her nipples went immediately erect, the nimbus puckered. He felt her grip his penis, fuck him with her cunt muscles, hold him firm within her, and again that rush of warmth. Jessica both gave and derived so much pleasure from their fucking that for a moment Tom thought he could no longer hold back his own orgasm.

But he did hold back. He caught his breath long enough to tell her, ‘For the moment, I beg you, not another move, be still.’

Jessica did as he asked. She felt the throb of his penis within her and closed her eyes to savour every thrilling moment of the sex they were engaged in. Tom kissed her for the first time. It was not a passionate kiss but a kiss of gratitude and appreciation for what they were experiencing together.

Jessica understood the kiss, for she felt the same way. This was a night of sex and orgasm, the chasing and catching of erotic desire, a night for unrivalled sex where nothing else mattered and the morning brought no recriminations. Here was sex as she had been taught to enjoy it. She had thought
she would never again experience it after Pierre. She was glad she had been mistaken. She was still able to enjoy her sexual freedom, wallow in it. She smiled at Tom and told him, ‘This is delicious.’

‘So it is. And this is how we’ll dine.’ He reached for the china bowls and spooned rice and shreds of duck into them and handed her a bowl and her chopsticks. She fed him and he fed her while they sat impaled by their lust. In between courses they came together among the porcelain dishes until he went on his knees and down on her to quench his thirst with the nectar their lust had created and to nibble and suck her genitalia. They were clever and adventurous in their debauchery and Jessica, as she was prone to do at times of such heightened sexual games, went over the edge of sexual reason. She told Tom, ‘How much more perfect this would be if we shared this dinner of food and fucking with another man. Jack Webster, for example.’

They called him. He was alone, as Jessica had thought he might be. She hadn’t forgotten Cissie’s account of his sexual reaction to her at the dean’s dinner party. She and Tom were blatant about why they wanted him to join them and in half an hour he was there.

The atmosphere was electric with lust, debauchery, depravity. Jack picked that up the moment he entered Rose Cottage. Jessica and Tom took him into the drawing room. Tom stoked the fire and before the hearth Jessica tossed down cushions for them to lie on. She turned off the lamps and the flames of fire sent a soft warm light dancing into the darkened room.

Jessica watched the two men, naked and rampant, their hunger for sex with her clear in their faces. Jack caressed her breasts and raised one of her legs and rested it on his shoulder. Her heart began to race. He looked admiringly at her, separated her cunt lips and fondled them, but not tenderly. He was rough as he forced his hand into her. She called out in pain but that was shortlived. Jack lowered her
to the cushions and into Tom’s arms. Jessica could hardly catch her breath for the excitement of having the two men at the same time, of the three of them coming into each other at the same time, of caressing them as the two men took possession of each other.

For hours the three lost themselves in depravity of the flesh until, exhausted, they fell quiet. The last thing Jessica remembered of the night were Jack’s words: ‘Jessica, this is a Christmas I will always love you for and will paint in a thousand ways. Thank you and farewell. There are some things in life too perfect to repeat, too dangerous to play with, and the loveless fuck is one of them.’ Then he kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

‘We are friends with a secret, Jack,’ Jessica said. ‘I will cherish that for all the many years we will know each other.’

Chapter 5

Libertines have many things in common apart from their sexual proclivities, not the least of which is that they conduct their erotic lives with great discretion. It was therefore easy enough even in a small town like Newbampton for Jessica and Tom to conduct their sexual liaisons in secret. Their friendship and work together was open and above board, considered by the gossips to be nothing more than platonic.

For the first few months Jessica was amused to have a sex life that was that and nothing else. She had laid down rules to ensure that nothing other than sexual pleasure entered their lives. They agreed never to dine together as a couple, never to partner each other socially, in fact never to see each other except at work or for sex. Tom was never to give her a gift or bring a bottle of wine, they would never inquire into each other’s day-to-day existence. It was to be sex pure and never simple, lust gone out of control. That suited Tom; it was, after all, what he believed sex and orgasm was all about. To treat each other as sexual objects and nothing more was for Jessica the final step in sexual depravity. She found it incredibly sexy, the one-night stand that went on for ever. During that time with Tom, she went beyond anything she had done with Pierre or Yves because she put no love or affection into the act and received none from Tom. The heat and passion of the sexual experience was twice as intense because of the cold and calculated approach they both had to it. Jessica never became addicted to sex as she had been as Candia Van Buren, nor enslaved by Tom as she
had been by Pierre. Instead she was burned out by the loveless erotic world she had entered with Tom. In time she became bored with it.

It was the lack of emotion, the non relating to Tom as a person, not being loved by him for all the things she was other than a sex object that drove her away from their depraved relationship. The excitement, danger, and pleasure she derived from sex with Tom was simply not enough to compensate for what was missing. Tom and the loveless fuck drove her closer to Luke. As their love for each other grew, so did their sex life until she understood that there could never be another man for her in sex or love.

In the middle of May, Jessica met Tom in his rooms at the college. Usually when she waited for him there, she was naked apart from a diaphanous silk organza robe. The moment Tom entered the room and saw her dressed in her street clothes standing by the window, he sensed it was over. His heart did a somersault when he spotted the key he had given her lying on the table in the centre of the room, a ray of light from the window highlighting it. He had not expected to feel as upset as he did.

Tom closed the door rather loudly to get Jessica’s attention. She turned round and smiled at him. ‘Hello, Tom.’

‘Jessica,’ he answered.

‘Do you remember when we started this escapade we promised each other that when one of us wanted out there would be no questions, no fuss? It would simply be over? There is no easy way to say this but, thanks but no thanks, it’s over,’ she bluntly told him.

‘I’ll miss you,’ he said.

‘I hope not, that was never part of the deal.’

‘Am I not allowed to say anything about these last few months?’ he asked.

‘I would rather you didn’t.’

‘And our work together?’ he asked.

‘This has nothing to do with our work together, it never
had. If you still want me, I would like to stay on.’

‘I would like that too,’ he told her.

‘Oh, good.’ She was pleased he had made it all so easy for her.

‘Am I allowed one question?’ he asked.

Jessica hesitated. Though she’d rather he asked nothing, she felt it would be churlish to refuse him. ‘Yes, but just one.’

‘Why is it over?’ he asked.

She appreciated the tone of his question. It was almost as if he needed to know not for himself but intellectually.

‘The sex and all the satisfaction, the highs we reached are simply not enough for me. In my sex life I need love. You believe sexuality and depravity is all. Maybe it is for you and millions of others. I thought it might be for me, but it isn’t. It’s simply not good enough. It never becomes less sexually thrilling but after a time, without love and togetherness, it becomes empty and sterile, passionless. It’s no more complicated than that, Tom. Please, let’s walk away from this interlude and never talk about where we have been. All you have to know is that it was great, the best while it lasted, and I’m the richer for having been there. I hope you feel the same way.’

Luke sensed that Jessica’s feelings for him were growing stronger. He became more cautious than ever in his wooing of her, giving her even more space to find on her own the life and love she yearned for. He could afford such generosity because he was certain that he was the only man in the world for her. And he was right. His love, like bedrock, was solid enough for her to build a love relationship as high as a skyscraper.

Life went on as normal for Jessica: Luke, her odd jobs, increasing her wealth by moving her money around in the world stock markets, something Pierre had taught her well. But it was the way in which Newbampton’s community perceived her and took her to its bosom that was so very rewarding. For all her charm and wealth, the townspeople
still saw her as an amnesia victim who did odd jobs to keep herself busy until something snapped and she regained her memory.

Jessica did in fact find something in her part-time jobs that strengthened her character and safeguarded her independence. In less than a year in Newbampton she had met a large cross section of the community, people she would never have come across in the past. They and her odd jobs added immensely to her life. But it was not all one-sided. Without even trying, she added to their lives. She became someone to look up to for the way she was conducting her life, modestly and unpretentiously, and for her charm which she used so well.

Bridget Copley was more puzzled than ever that for all her investigations not one clue came to light as to who Jessica Johnson really was or how she came to be in Newbampton. The more Jessica became integrated into the community, the more Bridget was convinced that Jessica would never stop living her lie. She confided as much to Luke, though not in so many words. ‘I give up,’ she said simply, looking him straight in the eyes.

‘Thank you for that, Bridget,’ he said, his relief evident. He knew she was telling him, ‘Let her be happy any way she wants to be, I won’t rock the boat.’

It was October, a year to the day since Jessica had arrived in Newbampton, and in all that time she had never travelled further than the area immediately surrounding the town. Luke had asked her many times to go away with him: a trip to Paris, a week in Barbados, a few days in New York. She had always declined and Luke stopped asking.

They were dining at his farmhouse, a house so very different from Rose Cottage. Luke’s housekeeper Mrs Timms was cooking dinner, Jessica was sitting by the fire in a wing chair, Luke was in his laboratory working with his assistant. Jessica had learned to appreciate and respect the
sparseness of Luke’s house: white walls, graceful eighteenth-century American furniture and several pieces of Shaker furniture, polished wood floors and oriental rugs, shutters rather than drapes at the windows. No frills, no
objet d’art
. Every room had a stillness about it that soothed. It seemed to Jessica that the moderate sized rooms were like imagination chambers because they allowed the mind to wander at will, undistracted and at peace.

Jessica’s mind was doing just that on this anniversary of her arrival in Newbampton. A life without Luke? Oh, yes, it was possible. She knew she could survive but a certain light would go out of her life without him in it. There was so much to be said for the way he loved her: without question, without manipulation or deceit, without strings. He accepted her as she was, he had allowed her to love him her way, he rose to the erotic world she enjoyed. He embraced her ego and her id, revelled in the power and passion of her libido. His love was all-embracing, rich beyond measure.

She had never before realised how much she liked being there for him. She remembered the last time they had made love, the look of ardour in his eyes when she came in a strong, copious orgasm which transported her into a world of ecstasy. Sex with him at that moment was so intense that she sobbed and tears of pure lust, exquisite bliss, trickled from her eyes. He had raised her from the settee she was bending over and held her in his arms. Then he had carried her up the stairs to bed, all the time kissing her face, tears brimming in his own eyes.

In the year they had been together Luke had come to understand just how much she revelled in a sex life that was totally devoid of morality and he embraced her for it. He learned from her about sex that has no boundaries and he loved the way she brought to their sex life a sense of their own, very personal, intimate world in which they were equal partners.

Jessica rose from the chair. Darkness was pushing the day
away. She looked out of the window and watched the wind stripping the brightly coloured leaves from the trees. She slipped into her long silver fox coat and wrapping it tightly round her rushed through the house and out of the kitchen door, the shortest way to the laboratory. The lab door was always locked. She knocked and the door was opened by Luke’s assistant. Jessica saw Luke through the glass partition, but he was too distracted to notice her. He looked handsome, vital, every inch the important scientist that he was.

Jessica turned to his assistant, Anabella Church, and asked, ‘Is Dr Greenfield a great scientist?’

‘Yes, I thought you knew that,’ replied the young woman, some disdain in her voice.

‘I assumed he was but how would I know?’

‘Well, I suppose you wouldn’t unless you were around the hospital and medical research people. How very stupid of me.’

‘Not at all,’ said Jessica taking Anabella’s hand in hers.

Embarrassed, Anabella released herself from Jessica. She was in awe of Jessica and envious of her relationship with Luke. She cleared her throat. ‘Dr Greenfield is Nobel Prize material. In his field, he has as good a chance of winning the prize as anyone.’

‘And you think I’m a distraction?’ asked Jessica.

‘Well, frankly, yes. But he’s happier than I have ever known him to be, and inspired in his work. You’re just a little hard to accept because we’ve had him all to ourselves for so many years. We’ve been spoiled by his dedication and brilliance. We thought his life would never include more than his young distractions.’

‘My god, are you frank!’ said Jessica and both women burst into laughter.

‘And a little jealous, you’re thinking,’ said Anabella.

‘Well, maybe just a little, but no more than I am of you. After all, the doctor, nurse, devoted assistant syndrome
brings its own attachments, wouldn’t you say?’

‘No wonder Dr Greenfield has fallen in love with you, Miss Johnson. You’re incredibly gracious to have said that,’ answered Anabella.

Jessica and Anabella realised they would have to share Luke and with the realisation came respect and friendship.

‘I’ll tell him you’re here,’ Anabella said.

‘No! Please don’t. We might as well start as we mean to go on. I had something to tell him, but it can wait. I’ll just slip out quietly.’

‘No. This once won’t matter,’ said Anabella.

So Jessica took a seat on the battered leather sofa in the anteroom and waited for Luke. Not many minutes went by before he walked through the door. She stood up immediately and he pulled her by the lapels of her fur coat tight up against him. He kissed her on the lips and then ran his spread fingers through the luscious fur of her coat.

‘Let’s go home,’ he said.

After greeting Mrs Timms in the kitchen, they walked through the house to the sitting room. Jessica, still in her fur coat, sat on the settee opposite the fireplace. Luke warmed himself by the fire for several minutes. The only sound in the room was the crackling logs, the only light the dancing flames leaping up the chimney. Finally he went to sit next to Jessica. She took his hand in hers and raised it to her mouth. She kissed his fingers and licked the soft crease of flesh between his thumb and index finger. Then, turning on the settee so she faced him squarely, tears brimming in her eyes, she said hoarsely, ‘Luke.’

‘What’s wrong, Jessica?’ he asked.

She took a deep breath. ‘Nothing’s wrong. On the contrary, it’s all so right that feeling has overwhelmed me. I’m trying to find the words to tell you I love you, deeply, truly. Luke, I don’t want to spend any more of my life alone or adrift. I want to be with you. Loving you has ruined me for any other man. It came to me as I was sitting by the fire
in the peace and quiet of this room. I want to shout it from the rooftops. If it were possible I would like the whole world to know how much I love you. But mostly you. That’s why I burst in on you over at the lab, to tell you.’

‘Oh, my dear Jessica,’ Luke said, a catch in his throat.

‘I do so hope you would still like to marry me.’

‘Every time I see you I want to marry you,’ he told her and together they rose from the settee and hugged each other. He took her by the hand. There was a new kind of joy in their laughter as they ran through the rooms to the kitchen.

‘Mrs Timms, you are the first to know. Miss Johnson will not be Miss Johnson for long. This is an occasion, it calls for champagne so we can toast the future Mrs Greenfield.’

Mrs Timms, prim, good old New England stock, put her wooden spoon down, removed her apron, fussed with the bun of hair at the nape of her neck and said, ‘Lordy me, there’ll be dancing in the town tonight,’ and a smile cracked her face and her eyes shone with approval.

‘Surprised, Mrs Timms?’ asked Jessica.

‘Only that it took you so long to say yes, miss. Best you ring through to the laboratory for Anabella. I dare say she’ll need a glass of this here fizz.’

Luke and Jessica did not dine at home that night. Instead they went first to Rose Cottage so Jessica could change into something appropriate for the occasion and then they went on to Wiggin’s Tavern. They glowed with happiness. No one had ever seen either of them so demonstrative in their love for each other. As they made their way to the smallest of the dining rooms, they saw Bridget Copley eating alone. Luke asked Jessica, ‘Shall we invite her to join us?’