Destined to Play Read online

  ‘That’s better,’ I hear him say. ‘Not so scary after all, is it?’

  ‘Is this how you want to make me feel?’ I reply breathlessly, as his hands continue on their quest.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  If I had been in a more stable mental state, I should have known that question was coming. I knew he would expect an answer.

  I think about it and answer him honestly. ‘On edge, intense, relaxed, incoherent, pleasured

  … all of these words come to mind … and my body seems to be relieving my mind of its duties.’

  ‘Hmm, yes, that is almost exactly how I want you to feel. Do you like it, this feeling?’

  ‘I think so, but I may have to get back to you on that one.’

  His lips caress the nape of my neck as his fingers weave and explore further down my body, past my belly and linger between my thighs. The dull ache between my legs is now swelling with the anticipation of more.

  The room becomes hazy as I melt into his touch, his body still firm, smooth with a comforting sprinkling of hair. My body responds fervently to every caress. Just as he is about to arrive at the desired destination, his fingers pause, linger.

  ‘Doctor Blake, can I ask you something? I’d really appreciate your professional opinion.’

  ‘Sure,’ I try to say as calmly as my shortened breath allows. I can’t quite believe he has chosen this precise moment to have a ‘professional’ conversation. My heart pounds in unison with the throbbing ache between my legs.

  ‘Great, thanks.’ He sounds pleased with himself.

  ‘You see, I have a beautiful woman staying with me for the next forty-eight hours.’

  I moan in disbelief as he continues. ‘We are staying in the penthouse suite of the best hotel in Sydney. She’s as sexy as hell and I don’t want to waste a moment of the time we have together.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t waste a second, Jeremy! What’s the problem specifically?’ I roll my eyes as I try to make my voice sound as even as possible, which is essentially impossible given his carefully orchestrated strokes. I try to respond as if I’m going along with his game, but hope he will also move the conversation along a little faster.

  ‘Well, you see, she finds it difficult to switch off. I don’t think she will fully immerse herself in the experience I want to give her this weekend. A once-in-a-lifetime experience, mind you.’

  I try to manoeuvre to put some space between us so I can see his face. However, he has me in a position where I am firmly anchored between his legs. One of his arms is around my chest and the other underneath my arse, between my legs, all the while his fingers, playing, teasing, caressing … God, I had forgotten just how good he is at this. He tightens his grip when he senses my attempt.

  ‘She says she will,’ he continues rhythmically, ‘but you see, I know her well. I know that what I am proposing goes against her nature, potentially even her values, and that’s why it is so difficult for her to let go, even though I know she deeply wants to experience what I can offer her.’

  As he continues his controlled, even monologue, his finger work intensifies below.

  The strength of his grip remains unrelenting.

  His smell, his touch, his words, I’m delirious.

  I must be dreaming; this can’t be happening in real life, can it?

  ‘And then I attend a lecture this afternoon given by some professional psychologist, Doctor something or other, in the hope that she would give me some ideas, you know, to help solve my problem. By the way, you should meet her, I think you’d like her,’ he adds offhandedly.

  Oh, he is enjoying this! I am in no position other than to play along.

  ‘And did she?’ I almost squeak out as I groan inwardly, unsure of whether the sound derives from frustration or pleasure. Either way, I am utterly lost in his hands, his words.

  ‘Yes, in fact she did, so I’m going to follow her advice.’

  Additional fingers join down below and now the other hand is pinching and pulling at my nipples as if commanding my body to attention rather than my mind. His touch intensifies as my nipples and loins throb in unison. The motion of his movement makes me weightless against him in the bath. As the water is cooling, I am heating up like a steaming kettle hanging over an open fire.

  ‘So, I have decided I should remove one of her senses this weekend. The doctor’s empirical research assures me that this would achieve two things. Firstly, significantly heighten all her other senses, which can only be a good thing given what I’m talking about, don’t you think?’

  He pauses.

  I can’t respond. I am unable to focus on his words any longer.

  ‘And secondly, that her experience would therefore exponentially increase beyond all preconceived boundaries and perceptions. I couldn’t believe it, all my problems had been solved by this incredibly insightful woman.’

  I gulp, gasp, perhaps even choke, at his words. He tweaks and teases my nipples as if testing their elasticity, causing my back to arch in synchrony.

  He continues, almost lost in his own words. ‘I have considered the five senses and finally decided on the one that was the basis of her research, which will definitely have the greatest impact.’ With his other hand, he probes the inner depths of my vaginal passage, gently and carefully massaging, purposefully avoiding the area in greatest need of his touch. Precision fingers.

  I am way beyond a deer caught in headlights; I am now loaded and strapped to the roof of the car. Damn him for doing this to me. Damn my body for responding! My breathing becomes uncontrollable, while I am held captive by the intoxicating spell of his knowledge and experience.

  ‘You see, she is a highly visual person and I honestly believe if she lost this sense …’

  I can’t hear his words any more. My breath is shallow and swift as I desperately attempt to secure more oxygen into my lungs, into my brain. His fingers come to a standstill.

  I am going to hyperventilate.

  ‘God, Alex, you have become even more acutely attuned to physical touch, if that’s even possible. Sensations are rippling through your body. It is really distracting me from my conclusion.’

  I am distracting him? Insane!

  The pause is long enough for me to breathe again. Not long enough to prevent his words, nor his intentions.

  ‘Therefore, all she needs to promise is two things. To relinquish her vision for the weekend and not ask any questions for the next forty-eight hours. A weekend that will exceed all expectations; break through her preconceived boundaries. A truly sensational experience that I have no doubt she will love … so obvious in hindsight, I’m disappointed I didn’t think of it myself …’

  His voice wanders off and his breath is hot in my ear as his tongue tickles and his teeth nibble my lobe. His fingers are relentless in their mission, penetrating, but falling short of securing the relief I urgently desire. My body prepares to explode. Then his voice registers in my ear with profound clarity.

  ‘Alexandra, promise me this, right now.’ His words are strong, deliberate. My body is quivering in anticipation. ‘It’s simple. No sight. No questions. Forty-eight hours.’

  I have too many feelings and emotions to fully comprehend my circumstances. My brain, my body, my heart are all focused on one thing and one thing only — release! I’m not sure whether I love or hate that he can do this to me, has always been able to do this as no one else has. I always feel so helpless, so dependent on his next move. It’s as if my body renders my mind irrelevant.

  ‘Promise me.’ The deep low voice penetrates my haze, my stupor.

  Oh god, my throbbing lust becomes agonising as the room starts spinning. It is too hot for me to handle, heat erupting from within, steam billowing around me. I try to thrust my hips forward to create friction where I so urgently need it to relieve the intensity he has so cleverly masterminded. I am physically prevented from doing so. My jolting movement hardens his resolve, his body strengthening its grip around mine.

 
‘Promise me, right now.’ The strong voice sends its final command.

  ‘Whatever. I, I, prom —’ I can’t manage to complete the words as they stutter out in a tangle. ‘Ohhh god,’ I sigh. He is relentless!

  ‘LOUDER.’ His voice booms into my ear like a tribal drum quickening its pounding beat …

  ‘I promise,’ I pant. ‘I promise.’ I sigh. ‘I’ll do whatever you want … this weekend.

  Whatever, just …’

  At these words, his fingers plunge deeply into my vagina sending me into the orgasm my body so frantically, so desperately, so completely desires. A primal scream escapes me …

  ‘Thank you, sweetheart, problem solved.’ I hear a seductive, distant whisper in my ear.

  He finds the sweet spot of my clitoris, which sets alight a new series of convulsions that milk my juices for all they are worth, while pinioning me through relentless spasms of mindless release. Without considering for a second the implications or consequences of the words that have just escaped me, I greedily allow myself to pass through the gates of pleasure he has so carefully constructed, then guarded, then ultimately controlled.

  I’m not sure how long I have been in my own faraway world when I drift back to reality. I notice my skin is starting to wrinkle prune-like, so some time must have passed. I slowly float back to consciousness.

  ‘Are you okay? You were amazing.’ I hear the wonder in his voice. Ah, yes, in Jeremy’s arms, in the bath. That’s where I am, becoming fully aware. I am soft and full and voluptuous, still floating in a decadent haze of delirium.

  ‘Mmm … I’m wonderful, how are you?’

  ‘Let’s get you out of the bath before you catch a chill.’ He steadily lifts me up and out of the bath and wraps a towel around my shoulders. It is thick and soft and I embrace its warmth.

  As he stands behind me with his arms wrapped around me, we face each other in the reflection in the mirror. Seeing him like this, our height difference appears exacerbated and for some reason, I wish I were wearing high heels to compensate for the disparity between us. I am acutely aware of his nakedness behind me, which makes me literally weak at the knees.

  He slowly unravels the towel as our eyes maintain contact in the mirror and lets it drop leisurely but deliberately to the floor. I am left staring at our naked forms in the mirror. His eyes are rapturous. We say not a word but regard one another with a deep sense of lust and history that has become more astonishing and complex over the years than we ever could have imagined.

  ‘You are even more breathtaking than I remember.’ Jeremy finally breaks the silence.

  ‘You have always been and continue to be too beautiful, Jeremy,’ I say, not wanting to acknowledge his comment.

  ‘Alexa, open your eyes, and really look at yourself.’ He notices I am trying to look anywhere but at my own reflection. He steps us closer toward the full-length mirror so I have no option but to be face-to-face with myself. Sometimes it is a wonderful thing that others see differently to what we see of ourselves. Interestingly, I find myself looking for any obvious signs of childbirth. It’s strange that I have never had that thought before this moment. Thankfully, the light is good to me. As these thoughts flitter through my mind, Jeremy clasps my hands together and lifts them from my side to high above my head, lifting me slightly off my heels. Bending my arms backwards so my elbows are the highest point in the mirror, there is nothing obstructing my face as my body rests against his. Jeremy is utterly irresistible in this erect, virile form. The sight of both of us standing naked before the mirror, embraced by candlelight, becomes more sensually heightened and more emotional than I could have ever imagined.

  The electricity between us is palpable. It fascinates me, this closeness, this intimacy and I allow myself to linger at the image before my eyes. What a remarkable exercise, staring at each other like this, I think, taking a professional perspective. Instead of it being something to avoid at all costs, the intensely erotic nature of our steaming bodies in the mirror emanates sexual energy, even more so as I am still reeling from a delectable orgasm.

  ‘I want you to capture this moment in your memory. Take a moment to understand and absorb how much beauty is within you. Your flushed cheeks. Your buoyant, full breasts. Your glistening thighs. Your eyes, wild with lust and desire. Remember this is who you are, an infinitely sexual and sensual creature. I have never desired anyone as much as I have you.’

  I can feel the intensity of the truth in his words as much as I feel his manhood swelling thickly behind me.

  I barely recognise my reflection in the mirror.

  Who am I?

  Time stands still.

  The moment is utterly intoxicating, breathtaking.

  I can’t say how much time has elapsed between these moments and when he eventually releases me to wrap the towel around my shoulders.

  ‘I need to organise a few things and it is probably best if you have some space. Take your time; you’ll notice the cupboards are well stocked. I have a surprise waiting for you out here, when you are ready.’ Jeremy kisses the inside of my wrist and closes the bathroom door behind him. My stomach once again makes its presence felt in my body, as does the heat between my legs and my swollen breasts. How does he do this to me?

  I steady myself, placing both hands on the cold marble of the basin bench. I stare at the mirror, looking directly at my face, into my eyes. My body feels energetic, euphoric. I can’t remember a time I felt this physical and alive. My mind is desperately trying to maintain balance and perspective. What am I doing? Unfortunately, my body appears to be the weightier component as I let out a surrendering sigh and embrace the fullness of the moment.

  Jeremy was right about the bathroom being well stocked; once again his memory for detail is astounding. Little handwritten notes scattered here and there, Jo Malone perfume — one beautifully designed large bottle of my favourite fragrance blend, with enough room to add any finishing touches from the collection of smaller bottles. Body lotion that my skin devours so quickly, I indulgently allow myself a second helping. Yves Saint Laurent make-up bag with foundations, concealer, eyeliner, lipsticks, lip liners, mascaras, all in hues complementary to my skin tone — everything I could need for the weekend and more. Wow. I decide to let myself go a little crazy and enjoy all of them, thinking how much fun it is, like being in beauty boutique heaven and helping myself to anything from the skin care and cosmetic range. I let out enthusiastic little yelps as I open boxes, experiment and test an array of gorgeous products featured regularly in high end glossy magazines but never before seen on my bathroom shelf.

  I must have been lost in my own cosmetic wonderland for quite some time when I hear a light knock on the door.

  ‘Alex, you are still alive in there, aren’t you?’ Jeremy’s voice softly permeates my hedonistic atmosphere.

  ‘Oh, yes, ah, sorry, I can’t believe all of this. When did you have time? How did you know?

  I mean, well, it has been so long … This is absolutely amazing, I feel like a child opening all of my favourite presents …’ My words tumble over the top of each other.

  ‘Questions, questions,’ he says with a chuckle, although I detect an undertone of threat in his voice, which stops me dead.

  My thoughts immediately drift back to his words in the bath, the promise I made in a moment of weak, lustful desire. The hair on my skin automatically stands on end; my posture straightens like a cat tensing to sense imminent danger. What was it he was talking about in the bath? He wasn’t really serious, was he? Wanting me to be blind for the weekend and something about questions? Surely we’re too old for such silly games. Aren’t we? My intuition doesn’t help my apprehension as my mind instantly conjures up the memory of the first and only time I tried to get out of a promise with Jeremy back in our university days. Strangely, in hindsight, I am vague on the details of the promise itself; however, the consequences were embarrassingly clear.

  ‘So, you are absolutely positive you are going to renege on our agree
ment?’ Jeremy asks incredulously as he towers above me. We are in the quad at uni, just outside the Great Hall. I nod. The next second, he hauls me over his shoulders, grabs my ankles and slides me down his back. I am left dangling upside down, looking out toward everyone behind me.

  ‘Put me down, you embarrassing bastard!’ I scream, flapping around, trying to haul myself up. ‘You can’t do this, it’s pure brutality. Put me down!’ I scream louder.

  ‘I can and I will, until you follow through on your promise.’

  People are looking at me, laughing. Everyone knows we are best friends and are just mucking around. My T-shirt is down around my shoulders thanks to gravity and I quickly hold it up so I’m not giving everyone a free bra show. I try to bash him with one hand and hold my T-shirt with the other. Thank god I have jeans on. Jeremy starts walking off.

  ‘What are you doing? This is insane!’

  It is difficult to project my voice as loudly as I’d hoped given I am bouncing along behind his legs, upside down. I am completely incensed. He casually chats to others as we proceed along the corridor as if there is nothing unusual about me being slung over his body. His friends have a little chuckle as he informs them he is just giving me a lift to my next lecture. If I could, I would really hurt him very badly right now. Blood is rushing to my head by the second, making me look like a ripe tomato.

  We arrive at the lecture hall and he carefully lowers me down on to a seat in the front row. He acknowledges the Professor behind his lectern, as if everything is in perfect order. He bends down to where he has placed me, holding my hands together and says with a smile, ‘I’ll pick you up after the lecture.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’ I almost spit the words at him.

  ‘Oh, indeed I am, Miss Alexandra.’

  I give him my best death stare as I hear the Professor say, ‘Right, well, let’s get started, we have a lot to cover today.’