prelude to humiliation. What the hell, it wasn’t as if he had any pride left.
He dropped his garments to the floor, casting them into the darkness where they were lost.
He stood there in what little moonlight managed to filter in through the window, broken up and carved by the blades of the palm trees outside. He looked down at his body, a scratchy projection of his past self, a grainy monochrome print of a man.
‘Close your eyes,’ Elizabeth said.
‘I can’t see a thing anyway.’
‘Close them.’
Nayland did so, forcing himself to relax, spreading out his hands and letting himself float in the darkness. Giving in to her as he always did. He heard her move closer, the soft breath of air as she came to him, the awareness of something else out there in this ocean of darkness, a big predator certainly, one that he had long ago accepted would one day eat him whole.
Elizabeth whispered in his ear. ‘I’m going to do what I want.’
‘When have you not?’ he replied.
Her fingers brushed his chest, his cheeks, ran their nails down his arms, so lightly that it was like being touched by a spirit, something without flesh. The illusion would not be maintained for long. After a moment of absence, left to float once more, he felt her take hold of his penis, her thumbnail dragging its way along it, promising pain as well as pleasure.
‘I’ve missed this,’ Elizabeth told him. He didn’t believe her, of course, but it was nice to hear. His body had no issue with her lies, and he stiffened between her fingers.
Nayland pictured her as he had seen her on the screen, imagined her hands reaching out from the projector’s beam and pulling him in. She tugged him towards the bed, leading him like the obedient old hound that he was.
‘Lie back,’ she said, feet still planted on the floor, toes curling against the marble tiles.
The spirit of Elizabeth vanished to be replaced with the animal that lived at the heart of her. She climbed on top of Nayland, hands forcing him down against the sprung mattress as she rode him as though he was an inanimate object. As always, the goal was her pleasure but that didn’t lessen his own. He gripped the sheets on either side of him and pressed his head back into the bed, stiffening at the scratching of her nails, the bite of her teeth, the hungry grind of her as she pounded against him. It was an act of vandalism and he loved her all the more for it.
Afterwards, she sat back among his pillows while he lay still, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his wet skin. He wanted to remember the sensation.
‘Why?’ Nayland asked, a question he hadn’t wanted to raise earlier in case it had made her come to her senses.
‘A celebration,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And a business proposition.’
‘Where do I sign?’
‘I think you just did.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’
‘Bedside table.’ Nayland made to sit up, reaching for the light, but she pushed him back down with her foot.
‘I can manage.’ She scrabbled in the half-light, opening the cigarette case and helping herself. There was a flash of orange fire and then the air was filled with the scent of smoke, eradicating the afterglow aroma of their sex, fumigating them.
‘I have not been happy,’ she said after smoking in silence for a while. ‘Not for a long time. Did you realise that?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But as you clearly didn’t want me to do anything about it …’
‘What could you have done?’ It was not a question that Elizabeth expected him to answer. ‘But if there had been a way, something that would have made me really happy, would you have done it?’
‘You know I would. I’m an idiot, but I’m consistent.’
‘You really love me, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Nayland could see no point in lying – she knew it, anyway.
‘Even though I treat you so terribly?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘There is a way.’
‘A way to what?’
‘To
He dropped his garments to the floor, casting them into the darkness where they were lost.
He stood there in what little moonlight managed to filter in through the window, broken up and carved by the blades of the palm trees outside. He looked down at his body, a scratchy projection of his past self, a grainy monochrome print of a man.
‘Close your eyes,’ Elizabeth said.
‘I can’t see a thing anyway.’
‘Close them.’
Nayland did so, forcing himself to relax, spreading out his hands and letting himself float in the darkness. Giving in to her as he always did. He heard her move closer, the soft breath of air as she came to him, the awareness of something else out there in this ocean of darkness, a big predator certainly, one that he had long ago accepted would one day eat him whole.
Elizabeth whispered in his ear. ‘I’m going to do what I want.’
‘When have you not?’ he replied.
Her fingers brushed his chest, his cheeks, ran their nails down his arms, so lightly that it was like being touched by a spirit, something without flesh. The illusion would not be maintained for long. After a moment of absence, left to float once more, he felt her take hold of his penis, her thumbnail dragging its way along it, promising pain as well as pleasure.
‘I’ve missed this,’ Elizabeth told him. He didn’t believe her, of course, but it was nice to hear. His body had no issue with her lies, and he stiffened between her fingers.
Nayland pictured her as he had seen her on the screen, imagined her hands reaching out from the projector’s beam and pulling him in. She tugged him towards the bed, leading him like the obedient old hound that he was.
‘Lie back,’ she said, feet still planted on the floor, toes curling against the marble tiles.
The spirit of Elizabeth vanished to be replaced with the animal that lived at the heart of her. She climbed on top of Nayland, hands forcing him down against the sprung mattress as she rode him as though he was an inanimate object. As always, the goal was her pleasure but that didn’t lessen his own. He gripped the sheets on either side of him and pressed his head back into the bed, stiffening at the scratching of her nails, the bite of her teeth, the hungry grind of her as she pounded against him. It was an act of vandalism and he loved her all the more for it.
Afterwards, she sat back among his pillows while he lay still, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his wet skin. He wanted to remember the sensation.
‘Why?’ Nayland asked, a question he hadn’t wanted to raise earlier in case it had made her come to her senses.
‘A celebration,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And a business proposition.’
‘Where do I sign?’
‘I think you just did.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’
‘Bedside table.’ Nayland made to sit up, reaching for the light, but she pushed him back down with her foot.
‘I can manage.’ She scrabbled in the half-light, opening the cigarette case and helping herself. There was a flash of orange fire and then the air was filled with the scent of smoke, eradicating the afterglow aroma of their sex, fumigating them.
‘I have not been happy,’ she said after smoking in silence for a while. ‘Not for a long time. Did you realise that?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But as you clearly didn’t want me to do anything about it …’
‘What could you have done?’ It was not a question that Elizabeth expected him to answer. ‘But if there had been a way, something that would have made me really happy, would you have done it?’
‘You know I would. I’m an idiot, but I’m consistent.’
‘You really love me, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Nayland could see no point in lying – she knew it, anyway.
‘Even though I treat you so terribly?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘There is a way.’
‘A way to what?’
‘To
Similar Books
