7.
Light came streaming into the room as the morning after dawned, thoughts clearing, senses coming back to the forefront of the mind, life outside the room continuing to turn, the comings and goings disturbing Connie of her peaceful sleep, dragging the complexities of her situation to mind, the guilty thoughts perturbing her as she stirred from her comforting position in Ric's arms, detangling from him made her fully appreciate just how brilliant the previous night's passionate actions had been. With Michael the comparable had always been to screw one another with intensity to rival other relationships, take as little time as possible to satisfy needs, turn away fro m the other and replace lost clothing items, as formal as their jobs, a reflection of the intense effort the drove towards it, towards topping the career ladder, the one thing they HAD to reach, no regard to feelings, emotions, loves, the job and the job alone. Ric couldn't be more polar opposing; true feelings had controlled their every move, heart to heart, lust-to-lust, indulging the other as though they would be gone the next day. Every second counting, not to the minutes till its end, to the minutes it would continue going. Realisation was beginning to dawn though, bitterly reminding Connie that Ric was not her husband, not the person whom sexual rights belonged to, but a bit on the side, more than that, a lover, a tease, a friend, a soul. Being in the crampt little bedsit was much more fun, risk taking, worthwhile a venture than safe little Mikey, the geek picked on at school would ever be. Slipping her feet the short distance to the damp floor Connie instinctively placed them back into the Prada heels that her brought her home, fumbling round the darkness for her clothes, picking them out from the myriad of stuff afore her. His hands lifted from their rested position and up to his sleep filled eyes, confused as to what was happening "Connie?" his body was telling him to follow the instinct that it was only she that could have been there.
"Ric, look I'm sorry this is a huge mess, I need to go, I need to get back to London with Michael," her voice was vagrant in hiding the confusion lurking beneath the surface
"No, Connie, don't go, you can't we haven't spoken," he mumbled in response, sitting up with considerable ease, figuring alcohol had been absent from the previous nights misdemeanours, surely a good sign that any action had been based on the correct, impulsive human response, not some lack lustier human poison induced flurry of over exertion and stress in the manic world of life.
"We don't need to, I want to, sorry I need to go home," her speech was brought to an end as Ric shuffled over the bed towards her, relaxing his rested hands on her back, moving them slowly and methodically up towards her neck, meeting the waiting hand at her shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on it.
"Can't we at least have some coffee first," Ric suggested mid philandering, speaking each word softly into her ear, letting her turn back round to face him, only the bra and thong set he'd bought her for her birthday, his gaze locking on the tiny rose bud resting on the flat of her chest, a focus point for his eyes, his heart.
"If you insist, but I can't stay Ric its not right, I belong with Michael," she protested, averting her gaze as he replaced his boxers and lifted his regaling carcass to standing, hopping about like a mad man as his foot felt something sharp beneath it, content at watching Connie feign a bout of the giggles, true emotions, however infantile.
"You do realise that if you tidy up once in a while it prevents that," Connie chuckled, happy to be taken off to the more serious topic in hand, anything to prevent thought was in her opinion worth the while and time of day.
"Ha, ha, if I knew you were coming I'd have tidied up," he sighed, moving towards the cupboards in the corner of the room that constituted a kitchen.
"It would have ruined the surprise,"
"No it would have heightened the pleasure, besides I would have to question your reasoning for coming back here, our phone call hardly revealed much beyond the fact Michael is a berk"
"Possessed by Lucifer more like it," Connie mused lightly, picking at the damp carpet with unconscious skill "apparently I was a bet, all those years ago when he first seduced me, I was a bet" tumbling the words down the rocky mountain Connie strained to see if Ric had caught them, be bowled over by them, or let them drop by the way side, the former.
"Does this man sing from the same hymn sheet as most men?" he questioned idly, feeding the two tacky mugs with hot water from the kettle, stirring the cheaper still granules methodically.
"I doubt it, I thought I was under his egotistical barrier, I figured if I stayed close to him it would be easier than battling with him, he was my boss and the slightest upset would wreck everything, he had a hold on me and I took his hand, grasped it as tight as I could"
"So you don't accept responsibility for the Beauchamp wrath of fury that leaves no stone unturned in its path," Ric slumped down onto the unmade bed, handing her the coffee, her hands cradling it like a baby.
"Hardly, I was the fearful sidekick to the shenanigans, the person whom kept his feet this side of the sun, he had power over me, Ric, he used it too, anytime I got to thinking by myself he'd suffocate it," her offhand tone was startling to Ric he'd always perceived her to be more caring towards her husband than that, yet in hindsight he understood, suffocating a woman from her feelings, making her feel devoid was morally unjust, he knew this from Ghana, woman had their uses, some cruel but they had hearts like men, portraying them in other ways, more vulnerable, more susceptible to persuasion.
"And you've told no one of this, Connie how could you go along with it,"
"Because I thought I loved him, love makes you do beyond stupid things, I decided that anything he wanted of me was word, that I was practically his servant"
"So you saw the sense then I take it"
"Finding out I'd been a bet made me feel so small that I couldn't bear it, I'd always had my dignity if anything else, that admission saw to that with untimely ease,"
"You should never of left," Ric regretted, taking their empty mugs and placing them on the floor, pulling the covers upon them both, her body language still reserved, attempting a hug, feeling it the right thing to do, reading Connie is like attempting to understand the workings a brief history of time, attempting and failing at every hurdle possible, second guessing a natural instinct with her, asking what she wanted out of the question.
"But he is my husband, we're bound by law, I needed to be by his side, he wanted it I had to follow"
"You need to start following your heart, Connie, it may not always be right but it's a clearer thinker than your mind, he had control of that, not your heart though,"
"No you'd have control of that," she admitted easily, her feeble body loosing the last of the ability to stay in control, stay away from him, denial. His face contorted into some form of a smile, his arms relaxing around her slightly shaking body, feeling its emotions seeping through, some weirdly sick form of release, as he did so a mental note struck to his mind to see to Michael upon their next meeting.
"That is a compliment few have paid me," Ric spoke his words gently, sincerely, reading the situation correctly, second guessing it right for once, intelligence of man winning one tiny battle in the reprimand of another's foolish selfish moves.
"What you mean none of your countless wives"
"No, simply, no, love is fickle its mysterious till you discover its enigma, then well its like a returning cupid, shooting you at every possible moment" her body had ceased to quake, progress, last night had clearly been the enticement to rediscover her soul, guarded tightly by the depressing choking smothering life she'd been living, a light blown out by cruel winds of want and held in a dark foreboding corner of the castle of lust, controlled by the son of Lucifer. Escaping it was like releasing the shutters, dusting the cobwebs and bringing her to the light, guiding her back to normality, but for the amount of time spent cooped reality, normality was slipping away from her, taking the high road home, an outward force entitled love springing her soul to home, airing it in the gardens of Eden, simple places where fickle emotions took hold, its form indistinguishable, this case being a stingy bedsit, north side of Holby, other cases, a far off beach in some romantic country.
"Since when did you become so full of wisdom" Connie smiled, her petite hand resting on his larger more masculine one, ivory on ebony, white on black opposites attracting, polarising their feeling, his of strength to protect her vulnerability, her light to brighten his dark, his optimism to her pessimism, attracting each other like polar opposites on a magnet, the magnetism between them confounding in that simple touch, a hand to a hand, lips to lips, all talk an no action making the relationship dull, time lost that needed making up, the need to pronounce their relationship back on track, last night trailing the run, skiing the slope for the first time, attempting to gauge each other, test the competition, race over, game won. It was easier this time, taking it slowly, enjoying each passionate moment, savouring it for the timeline to a life, diaries of memories, visual images of enjoyment, pleasure, lust, contemplative wonderings at life, deciding which side of the path the memento would take, good or bad, right or wrong, moral, ethical. The memories overlapping as she lapped up his attention, berating his body with kisses back again, his neck, his shoulder, relaxing on his abs, pausing as he undid the clasp of her bra, skilful releasing it in one movement, a seasoned pro, a lover, with clear evidential factors, her bare shoulders tickled by his deep breathing, the tiny minute hairs on her skin standing on end, goose pimpling underneath, expecting the expected, doubting nothing, the path already cleared from the previous night, brightening it with the untwisting of yet more bound ivy, caressing her skin like daggers, removed; released by his dexterity, replaced by soft tenderising lilies, soothing her skin, like his touch, taking the sting away from the scratches to her surface, healing it like phoenix tears, the lightening striking as he entered her, rhythmically dancing her, amusing each sensual nerve ending, titivating it to excitement, numbing out the emotional receptors, awakening the senses anaesthetised by Michael, furthering inwards, taking her dewy leg in hand, sliding on its wet touch, his body smoothly moving upwards, inwards, taking the process a stage further, her whimpering of life turning on its head, like a magnet, north to south, quiet to loud, piercing the room, the building to shatter point. Her squeeze tightening uncontrollably, spasming, a sign it was flaring, exponentially growing, twice within a day, quadruplicating in life. Right? Wrong? Neither could give a damn, teasing the sheets from around them so they were full onto the world, singing the praises from the rooftops, well from the inner sanctums of a run down Victorian terrace. Her turn. Guiding her hand south she could feel the intensity draw her to his north with speed, velocity greater than light, thrusting motion to match, same as last night, like several months ago, a teasing touch that drove him bananas, tickling with her finger, teasing with her thumb, tingling with her hand, his only task to sustain, passing with flying colours, as her kisses fell further down his body, teasing the skin just afore his navel, contorting her tongue, lips encasing it, sucking gently, pushing harder, sucking harder, pushing gently, constantly changing modes to never let the lightening go out, thunder rumbling along on their path, the wet rain produced on their bodies throwing them for cover, the cover of love, lying dormant on the edge, a safety net, a cocoon, a wholesome place to cower from life, from emotion shit aimed at preventing them from the unpreventable, surrounding them with fresh tulips, lilies, honeysuckle, mild scents arousing them still further, drifting from their Eden to another, more romantic, less subtle, progression from poor to rich, right to wrong, fast to slow, touch to touch, the end never arriving as they simply lay, exhausted by extravagances, fancied out of lust by gifts, not physical, emotional gifts derived at maintaining a hold on a fellow soul, grip it close to the heart, cease to let it go, maintain it as a constant, a necessary constant in life.