Third Time Lucky (16 page)

‘It’s a difficult age, especially with you being on your own. I don’t know how you manage.’

Alexander sips his coffee. ‘We get by.’ He picks up the cafetière and I catch my breath as he grimaces in pain.

My mother frowns. ‘Is your arm giving you trouble?’

‘The odd twinge. Nothing to worry about.’ He lifts the cafetière higher and smiles. ‘Blythe, can I pour you some more coffee?’

Ouch.
I know exactly why his arm is hurting.

‘Are you planning on returning to active service?’ my father asks.

I cringe inwardly at the question but Alexander looks completely unruffled and cool as a cucumber. ‘I’d like to at least finish my service but when and how I’m deployed is up to the powers that be.’

‘I guess you need to be fully fit for your line of work.’ Butter wouldn’t melt in my mother’s mouth.

‘They won’t accept anyone back to combat operations who isn’t up to the job. The army paid for my master’s and I at least owe it to them to serve out my term.’

‘And what are your plans after that?’ my father asks evenly.

I cool my clammy palms on the glass, feeling very uncomfortable with my father’s line of questioning, but Alexander seems to take it in his stride.

‘I’ll make a decision when it comes to it. Blythe, would you like some more coffee?’, he repeats.

The smile is warm, the tone polite, but edged with a finality that no one could mistake.

A few days later, I emerge from my room into the sunlight of the Parks, like a mole scenting the outside world for the first time after a long winter’s hibernation. The days since the dinner have been a round of reading, research and writing essays, punctuated with a game of
tennis with Immy and a few snatched hours with Alexander. We’d both agreed to sleep in our own beds to avoid any distractions, but I succumbed to a hot session with him one evening when I could hardly see straight after spending all day in the Sackler. Professor Rafe would be proud of me.

My parents are leaving later today for a last couple of nights in London before they fly home. We stroll through the Parks, where the willows are all in full leaf and ducklings swim through the ripples. Daddy is in shirtsleeves, his jacket slung over his shoulder, the sun is warm on our backs and Oxford is at its idyllic best. A thud and shouts draw our attention to the cricket match that’s taking place on the field by the river.

My father turns at the sound. ‘I’ll never understand that game.’

‘Don’t even try. Alexander tried to explain it to me but I just switched off after about five minutes.’

‘I don’t understand most sports, or at least the time wasted on playing and watching them. Give me a garden or an
objet d’art
to appreciate any day,’ my mother adds.

‘Don’t I know it?’ my father says with a shake of his head.

‘I guess we’d better have some tea in town because we’ll have to leave later this afternoon. Daddy has some work to do and I guess you need to get back to your studies too.’

‘I
do, but I’ve loved seeing you.’

‘So you didn’t mind us surprising you by coming over?’ my mother asks.

‘A little notice might have been nice, but I guess I’ll have to forgive you.’

We stop on a steep footbridge over the river, where the punters have to duck their heads to slide underneath.

‘I’m not going to ask you your plans after this term is over. I can see it’s complicated …’ My mother smiles, presumably to soften the blow that’s coming.

‘But?’

‘I was at a lunch meeting with Leah Schulze before we came out here. You know she’s on one of my charity committees?’

‘I think I heard you say so.’

‘Well, Leah also chairs the board of a cultural committee, which raises funds for a major arts foundation …’

‘I see,’ I say, trying to work out where this tortuous trail is leading.

‘I hope you don’t think it forward of me, honey, but Leah knows you’re at Oxford and asked me what your plans were after your master’s.’

‘And?’

‘I had an email from her last night … and you don’t have to give her a decision now, but she told me there’s an opportunity coming up at the foundation, as assistant to the director. It’s a lead-in post with a good salary
and it would be a fantastic experience. It could lead on to bigger and better things.’ She pauses, then adds, ‘The director is Donna Ross.’

‘
The
Donna Ross?’ I say, in awe.

‘Yes, honey, how many do you think there are in the arts world?’

‘But she’s incredible. In fact, I read a profile of her in
Time
magazine on the flight over. Oh my God, the Ross Foundation has an amazing reputation.’

My mother beams. ‘Don’t get too excited because it’s not an absolute done deal, but Leah knows Donna
very
well and has already mentioned how well you did at Brown and how impressed Professor Rafe is with your work. I think we could make it happen.’

I can’t help but feel thrilled at the thought of this. ‘But would I really be up to a job like that?’ I ask, uncertain.

‘Don’t put yourself down,’ my father warns.

‘I don’t, but I’d hate Donna to think I’m some kind of art-world expert already. I’d have a lot to learn about working in a top organization like that.’

‘She’ll know that. Everyone starts out somewhere. Your father knew jack about politics and now look at him.’

‘Yes, look at me.’ Daddy’s smile twinkles and my stomach flutters. I am so amazed by this news.

‘We really don’t mean to pressure you, but the summer vacation isn’t that far away and apparently Donna’s already looking for someone to replace her assistant, so
Daddy and I didn’t think we should waste any time telling you.’

For once, I’m lost for words. Donna Ross
is
amazing and I admire her achievements. It’s a brilliant opportunity; it’s perfect. But there is a little nagging voice at the back of my head reminding me that it would tie me to the US, away from Alexander. I’m surprised by how much this bothers me. I’m twenty-one, too young to be tied to anyone, and I didn’t come here for a romance, I remind myself fiercely.

‘It … it sounds amazing.
Totally
amazing, but I need time to get my head around the whole thing.’

‘We knew you’d need time to take the news in, but if you are interested, I think you should let Leah know in the next few weeks.’ Daddy looks at me, kindly, soothingly, proudly, as if I’m still his little girl. I love him, I love my mother, and they’re presenting me with a dream opportunity.
But
.

What’s wrong with me?

‘Thanks. I’ll think about it. I really will think very hard about it.’

‘I hope we haven’t added to the pressure of your exams, but I had to mention it once Leah had made the suggestion. You do understand that?’

‘Yes.’

Daddy stands by, almost awkwardly. It’s not like him. ‘We also understand that there may be other factors influencing your decision. Anyway,’ he adds, cutting me off as he sees me start to speak, ‘we’re sure you’ll come
to the right decision in the end. You’re a smart girl, you know what’s right.’ Then he softens, and takes my arm. ‘I think we should be making our way back to Wyckham so we can say our goodbyes. I can’t believe how soon our holiday has gone by.’

And I can’t believe how fast my time at Oxford is flying by either, I think. Right now, the future yawns in front of me, a huge abyss that I can’t see the bottom of, let alone the other side. We walk back to Wyckham, and with every step I’m fighting unshed tears. The talk of this new job and the reality of life after exams makes me realize Alexander and I really haven’t talked at all about the summer, about our plans. I don’t think I can bear to, actually, as there is no simple answer, or any answer perhaps?

Alexander has so many decisions to make himself and whatever happens, his future is rooted on this side of the Atlantic. Mine, if I take the job, lies on the other.
It’s impossible
, I think bleakly.

No matter how close I thought we’d grown over the past few weeks, today has shown me that we’re still oceans apart.

‘Alexander, when you said come round for strawberries and cream, I didn’t think you had this in mind. Ahh …’

I suck in my stomach as a naked Alexander applies a squirt of chilled cream to my nipple.

‘Any complaints?’

‘No, but …’

‘Then
just enjoy.’ He pops a strawberry on top of my creamy nipple and sits back to admire his handiwork. In truth, I have no choice but to ‘enjoy’ because my wrists are bound with silk ribbon to each side of his bedpost. I could possibly free myself if I really wanted to. But I don’t
really
want to. In the weeks since my parents left, we’ve been studying hard, and college has an air of claustrophobic tension that’s finally got to me. We both needed a break and I have to admit Alexander has found a fantastic way for us both to unwind.

‘Ohh, that’s cold.’

Beneath the pyramid of cream he just squirted on my other breast, my nipple puckers.

‘Not bad for a novice artist. Don’t you think?’ He surveys his creation with satisfaction.

‘Don’t give up the day job. Oh, my word …’

He layers the cream over my mound and nestles a strawberry in the centre. Already the cream is beginning to soften and melt around my nipples.

I test the strength of my bonds, wanting to free my hands to touch myself. I hope he will touch me soon because I can hardly bear the sensation of the cream sliding over my body. Creamy trails have started to run down my breasts, tickling my skin.

‘I bet you’re going to taste delicious.’

He licks the cream from my stomach before plucking a strawberry from my nipple and swallowing it. A trace of red juice lingers on his lips so he licks it off and then puts his tongue to work on me, lapping up the
cream on my breasts as if it’s the topping on a sundae. The insistent rasp of his tongue on my skin is sensational, and my nipples tighten until I whimper with frustrated pleasure. Soon, the other strawberry is gone from my other breast and every drop is being licked clean away.

By now, my creamy bikini bottoms are melting too, and I wriggle as the cream trickles between my thighs.

Alexander retrieves the strawberry from my mound and says, ‘Open up.’

He pushes the berry into my mouth and the sweet tang of cream-soaked fruit bursts against my tongue.

‘Good?’

I swallow the berry before replying. ‘My mother told me never to speak with my mouth full.’

He arches an eyebrow, picks up the can again. ‘Time for second helpings, I think.’

I think I know what’s going to happen but I still gasp with horrified delight when he parts my thighs. There’s a hiss, then the shock of chilled cream coating every part of me, outside and in.

‘Oh God, Alexander.’

‘Really. You don’t
have
to call me God when we’re in bed, Lauren.’

‘You are beyond belief …’

‘And for good measure …’ He squirts even more cream between my intimate parts before dangling a strawberry inches from my nose, so its fragrance fills my nostrils. ‘You can’t have one without the other,’ he
says and then, without warning, pops the berry right inside me.

‘This is …’ I murmur, wriggling shamelessly while red juice trickles on to his Egyptian cotton sheets.

‘Delicious, is the word I think you’re looking for.’

Actually, strange, wicked, weird, wanton … all come close. My wrists strain against the ribbon bonds cutting into my skin. I try to lean forward so I can watch him while he kneels between my legs, parts my thighs wider and lowers his head. When he surfaces, he has the berry in his mouth and cream smeared all over his lips and nose. I giggle and wonder what his men would think if they could see him now.

He wipes the back of his hand across his face and approaches me, the strawberry held high.

‘Open your mouth,’ he says.

I can’t quite believe where he intends to put the strawberry. ‘No, you can’t!’

‘Yes, I can and you can’t do a thing about it.’

The strawberry that was inside me is now right in front of my mouth.

‘Open your mouth,’ he says, more insistent now.

At first, I keep my lips clamped shut but when the berry touches them, I give in and allow him to slide it between my teeth. I have no choice but to bite it, a fruit that’s ripe and sweet with my own juices. Part of me is appalled but most of me is just screaming to have him inside me. But he hasn’t finished. He’s back between my thighs, licking the cream from every part of me
until I’m whimpering like a baby and begging him to take me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted him so much – I’m almost in physical pain, tugging at the ribbons until my wrists are burning.

‘Please, untie me.’

‘Only if you promise to do as you’re told.’

‘I promise,’ I say, mentally crossing my fingers so it doesn’t count.

He undoes the knots and frees me, leaving my wrists burning a little from the ribbon. It’s heaven to finally be able to hold him and urge him inside me. I was so close after his fruit-flavoured foreplay that I come really quickly, helped by the groans of pleasure as Alexander climaxes inside me.

In these moments, the tension between us is so far from my mind I feel as if I could stay like this for ever.

Later, while we sip wine to help ease the pain of essay-writing and revision, I glance up from my laptop screen to find him watching me intently from the table where he’s working.

I arch an eyebrow. ‘Anything the matter? Do I have spinach on my teeth?’

‘No. I’ve been thinking.’

‘Dangerous,’ I joke.

He smiles. ‘True, but in this case you might enjoy the results. It’s halfway through term and I’d hate the Fifth Week Blues to set in. This may be a terrible idea, and I definitely wouldn’t suggest telling Rafe or my tutor, but
how would you feel about getting out of Oxford next weekend?’

My interest is piqued. ‘Where to? Rome?’

‘Closer to home. The seaside.’

‘To the ocean?’

‘Yes. I thought we might drive down to Cornwall on Friday afternoon and come back early Monday morning. It’s a bit of a hike for a few days but we could do some work while we’re there.’