Part One Hundred and Twenty Seven
A little while later, when Ric, Carlos and Zubin emerged from a long afternoon in theatre, they converged around the nurse's station, to check up on their other patients. "How's George Channing doing?" Ric asked, when he reached her name on the ward list. "She didn't seem so good when I looked in on her at lunchtime." "Oh, she's better than she was," Tricia said matter-of-factly. "She took a bit of persuading to start talking though." "Oh, who by?" Carlos asked, wondering if his beautiful Tricia had achieved this result. "Connie did it," Tricia said proudly. "She did what all you men have been afraid to do, she gave George someone to shout at." "Really?" Ric said in astonishment, breaking into a smile. "By the sound of it, I think it was quite successful. George Channing is the only person I've ever heard giving Mrs. Beauchamp a real run for her money." "What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall," Zubin commented wistfully. "Well, god bless Connie," Carlos said wonderingly, lifting the vase of flowers on the desk in a toast. "And all who sail in her," Ric added dryly, thinking that for Connie to have met her match, George Channing really must be a first class sniper, having had years and years of target practice. "Ah, don't be mean," Tricia protested. "She looked really done in when she came out of there." Ric suddenly looked concerned. "Where is she?" He asked, thinking that as George was primarily his patient, he should be the one to thank Connie, for bringing her out of her refusal to talk or communicate with anyone. He had been seriously worried about George, knowing that her prior emotional instability wouldn't help the situation in any way. George had been taking absolutely no notice of anyone's presence from the first time he'd gone to see her that morning. He'd kept her on fifteen-minute obs, more to make sure that she didn't attempt to harm herself than from any particular medical perspective. But if Connie had managed to break into George's hiding place then all credit to Connie. "She's in the rec room," Tricia informed him. "Looks like she could do with some TLC to me." "And we all know that Mr. Griffin would be perfectly happy to provide it," Zubin drawled cynically, receiving a glare from Ric as he walked in the direction of the rec room, where they all occasionally took the chance for a coffee and a sit down.
When he quietly pushed open the door, he saw that Connie was the only other occupant, standing in front of one of the long windows that looked out onto the hospital grounds. Something about the slight hunch of her shoulders seemed to give off a clear signal forbidding anyone to approach her. Closing the door softly behind him, Ric slowly walked over to her. "Connie?" He said, breaking in on her thoughts. "That's the trouble with working in this place," Connie replied bitterly. "Because we don't hold actual, permanent positions here, we don't have anything like an office to afford us that very occasional, though necessary bit of peace. At least working for the NHS does mean that I have access to such a luxury." Ric had to agree with her on this. Zubin, Carlos, Connie and himself, not to mention the likes of Tom and Alistair, spent approximately two thirds of their time working for the NHS, and the rest of their time doing private work, which in his case brought in some extremely welcome extra revenue. But it was only those devotees of the private system, those philistines in the name of human equality, who were provided with permanent offices. Back on Keller ward, where he ruled supreme, he did have his own office. After all, wasn't it there where he'd had such a wonderful half an hour with Connie, at the end of her first day? "I hear we have you to thank, for getting George Channing to start communicating again," He said, for the moment ignoring her clear demand to be left alone. "Well, I think I got a bit more than I bargained for," Connie said dully, and Ric suddenly became aware of the slight tremor in her voice. Connie was still looking out of the window, still standing with her back to him. Walking right up to her, he stood to her left, seeing in an instant that she had her face turned from him for a reason. Silent tears were running down her cheeks, making her look more lost and desolate than he'd ever seen her. "What happened?" He said, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders. "Have you ever done anything so stupid?" She asked, the tenderness in his gesture persuading her to open up. "Something you did on the spur of the moment because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Only afterwards, when you discover precisely what you've done, you regret it so strongly that it hurts." Ric took in a deep breath. As a compulsive gambler, yes, there had been many such occasions in his life, more than he cared to remember. "The time Diane lent me her credit card, to buy some champagne for the staff on New Year's Eve, and I immediately used it to gamble in an online casino. I'd say that was pretty bad. Why?" This was Connie after all, and he did have a pretty good idea, but he let her tell it in her own time. "Just how aware are you," She asked slowly. "Of the precise nature of the relationship George has with the judge, and with that other barrister, Jo Mills I think her name is?" "It might have taken me six months of working with Tash to discover her persuasion," Ric said with a certain amount of amusement in his tone. "But I'm not blind." Connie managed a watery smile. "You know that trial Zubin and I had to testify in at the end of February? Well, that trial was presided over by none other than Mr. Justice Deed. Let's just say that the Deed himself provided a delightfully unexpected distraction." "Yes, I did wonder," Ric said quietly. "What do you mean, you did wonder?" Connie demanded, finally turning fully to face him. "The way you looked at him when he arrived last night. You used to look at me like that, as if you could swallow a man whole." Connie laughed despite her tears. "You never know your luck," She said dryly. "Does George know about this?" Ric asked seriously, thinking he could see what this might have done, to a woman who would now be extremely self-conscious of her looks. "She walked in on us, which is why she tried to crucify me so magnificently in court. Believe me, I wouldn't recommend being caught in post-coital afterglow. It's the most undignified position to find yourself in." "That's a matter of opinion," Ric said, a soft smile spreading over his face at the memory of how beautiful Connie had looked, lying in his arms, on the sofa in his office, her hair tousled and her face flushed from orgasm. "Don't look like that," Connie said abruptly, correctly interpreting his expression. "The point is, that down the corridor, lies a woman who has just had a breast removed. She is already going to be deeply concerned about the way she looks, and all I've done by sleeping with her lover, is to make that situation a thousand times worse." "When you slept with the Judge," Ric asked tentatively. "You didn't know he was involved with her, did you?" "No, but I did know about her lump," Connie said miserably. "I'm not sure which is worse." "Connie," Ric said insistently, realising where her thoughts were taking her. "For whatever reason, George told you about what she'd found. Just because she then found you in the arms of her lover, does not mean that she purposefully ignored the advice I'm sure you gave her." "Really," Connie said icily. "Because from here, that's pretty much how it looks." "Connie, listen to me," Ric continued. "Even if she'd never found out about you and the Judge, there's no way she would have come forward as early as that. Yes, she might have subsequently despised every word you said, in or out of court, but if that was a reason for not coming forward for treatment, it was only an excuse. She's had that lump a lot longer than February, I promise you." "I just wish I hadn't done it, that's all." Putting out his arms, Ric drew her to him. "Now you listen to me," He said gently but firmly. "You, are one of the most talented surgeons I have ever worked with, you give your all to your profession, and you save people's lives virtually every day. Yes, you don't always know where to draw the line between business and pleasure, but then, neither do most of us. George Channing's having lost a breast, and therefore an enormous amount of what little self-esteem and self-respect she had in the first place, is not your fault. You've been far more on the fringes than the rest of us this week, but it has probably still registered with you, just how close both the Judge and Jo are to George. You may use your body to give you power, Connie, but it hasn't allowed you to take the Judge away from his priorities, at least not for more than the odd half hour in chambers." Connie stood perfectly still, her head leaned against his chest. She didn't know why, but it didn't feel wrong to be doing this with him. With anyone else, it might have made her feel far less in control, but with Ric that didn't seem to matter. "Thank you," She said eventually, detaching herself from him and swiftly kissing his cheek. "For talking some sense into me." Ric smiled at her. "I think you've just had a hard day, and that you need to relax." "Oh, and how would you suggest I relax, Mr. Griffin?" She asked, slipping so easily back into her usual flirtatious drawl. "I would go home, put on some music, and smoke a joint, if I could lay my hands on the necessary ingredients." "Oh, yes, I've heard about your little line in police cautions for possession of cannabis," She tutted in mock disgust. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," Ric said firmly. "It's far more successful than alcohol any day." "I have, but not since I was sixteen, and behaving particularly badly. So, Mr. Griffin, how would you feel, about assisting this relaxation you appear to have prescribed?" Seeing the tell tale glimmer of lust in her eye, Ric breathed in through his nose, taking in the enchanting waft of her perfume, as erotic and distinctive as her meaning. "I would be delighted," He replied, running a lazy finger down her cheek. "After all, it's about time I taught you something about how to really behave badly." "Oh, I'll hold you to that," She said, walking towards the door. "My place, at nine." "Hey, but I don't know where you live," Ric protested, walking after her. "Then go and find out," Connie said with a grin, thinking that her day was fast beginning to get better.
After discretely asking Tricia to get Connie's address for him from the computer, he went home, to his depressingly tiny bedsit, took a shower, and made himself look as stylishly casual as he would allow. He didn't want to go over the top, but he did want to look good for her. That unexpected, incredibly exciting quickie with Connie on the sofa in his office had been sensational, but Ric knew it had only really been a taster of what Connie had to offer. He'd paid a quick visit to his supplier on the way home, the package of dope now nestling in one of his trouser pockets, the other rudiments of a joint in the other. Not having a car any more, thanks to his inability to stop putting vast amounts of money that he didn't have on the roulette wheel, he took a cab to Connie's address. As he walked towards her house, his eyebrows soared. Whoever Connie was married to, he must have money. The house looked like an upside down T from where he was standing, branching out on either side, one side being softly lit and the other in darkness. When Connie came to the door, she was wearing a very simple, little black dress, that clung lightly to her high, full breasts, and which was cinched in at the waist with a wide, leather belt. Ric's eyes travelled from her subtly made up face, down her shapely torso, to where the dress flared out slightly over her curvaceous hips, descending to midthigh, showing off her long, beautiful legs to perfection. "I'm not sure whether it's my house, or my figure that has your eyes out on stalks," Connie said mockingly, observing his scrutiny. "I'm sorry," Ric said, looking a little abashed as he moved into the hall. "Oh, please don't be," Connie drawled, leading him towards the lounge. "It's really rather flattering." "You look good enough to eat," He said, briefly touching her shoulder. "Let's hope so," She replied softly, locking her gaze with his, waiting until he dropped his eyes first. So, that's how she wants to play it, he thought, she wants to be the one in control. But then he thought that this was how she always played it. They sat on the sofa, drinking red wine and listening to some soft, sensual rock music that only seemed to intensify the charged atmosphere of expectancy. "So," Connie said, as Ric began to roll a joint. "Why this sudden urge to get me stoned? It can't be as a precursor to seducing me." Ric grinned at her. "Well, I have enough ego," He said, handing her the joint and fishing in his pocket for a lighter. "To think that I wouldn't need to get you stoned, in order to seduce you." As Ric flicked the lighter, the flame lit up Connie's face, showing him in the soft light that she was really beginning to relax. She coughed with the first hit, causing Ric to smile. "Take it gently," He said, putting out a hand to relieve her of the joint. Taking another, slightly less enthusiastic drag, Connie handed it back to him. "Whatever that is," She said, "It's strong stuff, nice though." "It comes from a very reputable supplier," He said, taking a long, practiced drag of his own. "Only you could describe a drug dealer as reputable," Connie said with a laugh. "I used to grow it myself, before I lost the house." They passed the joint between them, both feeling the gradual effects of it. "Why did you lose your house?" Connie asked, though after listening to grapevine gossip she had a good idea. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours," He said with a wink, handing the joint back to her. "Oh, so that's why you wanted to lower my defences," She said knowingly. "All so that you could find out everything you've been dying to ask since my first day." "In a manner of speaking," He said, taking the last drag from the joint before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "I can be summed up in three, no four, words. I'm addicted to gambling." "Hence Diane's credit card?" Connie asked, her theory having been confirmed. "Yes, definitely one of the more shameful moments of my career." "That can't be the only thing that defines you," Connie said gently, the dope taking the usual, abrasive edge away from her voice. "I'd like to think it wasn't," Ric said, as she refilled their glasses. "But add on to that four failed marriages, almost a fifth, nine children and owing various people over a hundred and fifty grand, and that'll tell you that I do everything in excesses." "Nine children? You don't hang about, do you," Connie said in astonishment. "What happened to the almost fifth marriage?" Taking a sip of the full-bodied red in his glass, Ric said, "Sam Kennedy was an SHO on Darwin. She gave me twenty grand to put a hole in my debts, and the night before we were due to get married, I put the entire cheque on a roulette wheel. You can guess the outcome." Connie winced. "My god," She said in awe. "You like to live dangerously, don't you." "It's far more under control than it used to be." "That wasn't a criticism," Connie said, briefly touching his hand. "The fact that you can actually refer to yourself as an addict is good. If, as you say, it's far more under control than it used to be, that's good too. You just need to try to keep it that way."
"Enough about me," Ric said, preparing to roll another joint, and feeling more than a little self-conscious. "Tell me about you, and why you remain married, when you clearly aren't happy." "Well, well, Mr. Griffin, that is perceptive of you," She drawled to cover up her shock at his accuracy. "I was twenty two, and was struggling to finance my way through medical school. I met Michael when I was at a particularly low ebb, and was in the process of getting very drunk in a bar, because I knew that I either had to drop out of med school and get a job, or start opening my legs for a living until I achieved my registration." Ric just stared at her. "That is an extremely desperate path to have to follow," He said carefully. "Oh, believe me," Connie said bitterly. "It wasn't a decision I was taking lightly. So, he offered to finance the rest of my medical training, if I would marry him, and provide the necessary accessory of a wife. Michael was a cardiothoracic surgeon, and still does do the odd bit of operating very occasionally, but his main accomplishment is politics. He works for the Department of Health, and sleeps with virtually every secretary to pass through his domain. We've always had an open marriage, because he wasn't prepared to drop the women, and he knew that I would find out about them if he said he would and didn't. So, he goes to work every day in the city, with the type of false respectability demanded of such a position, and I got to realise my dream. It's not quite as crazy as it sounds," She added, as he handed her the smouldering joint. "It's been pretty successful for both of us, really. He has lovers, I have lovers, and we both commiserate about people who fail to live up to expectation." After taking a deep draw on the cigarette, she handed it back to him. "Have you never wanted to break the arrangement?" Ric asked, trying to get his head round this, though he could see just how much sense it must have made at the time. "No," Connie answered without hesitation. "I don't go looking for emotional interference, so it's not an issue." Ric's brain began trying to put the pieces together. Something clearly prevented her from allowing anyone to get remotely close to her, something that had happened before her marriage. "Why don't you go looking for, emotional interference as you call it?" "Not even under the influence of cannabis, will you persuade me to tell you the answer to that very interesting little quandary," Connie replied, her tone a lot sharper than she'd really meant it to be. Ric knew he'd crossed a line, and inwardly kicked himself for his stupidity. "I'm sorry," He said, handing the joint back to her. "Just don't push it, Ric," She said a lot more gently. "Some things really are best left hidden."
Getting up to change the CD, Connie put on some Dido, the drifting, sensual tones sliding over her skin as skilfully as she hoped Ric's hands would later. Returning to the sofa, she sat closer to him, leaning up against him as his arm went round her shoulders. Ric knew that with the lowering of her barriers, he was getting to see the softer, far more gentle side to Connie's nature. He could see that she was itching to really let someone in, but that she was terrified of doing so. "Tricia said that George really gave you a run for your money this afternoon," Ric said quietly, incredibly curious to know just what had been said between them. "I bet she did," Connie said cynically. "That was the best and the worst row I've had in a long time. But then, I suppose I should have known better than to tangle with a barrister who'd already made mincemeat of me in court." "What on earth did she say?" Ric asked, his curiosity now really peaked. "A lot of things that were a bit too close to home. It was my own fault, because I brought up the subject of her anorexia." "You need to be very careful with that kind of discussion, you know that, Connie." "Yes, I know, I know," She insisted. "But it needed to be done. If she keeps on going the way she is, the anorexia will kill her quicker than the cancer." "I do hope you didn't tell her that," Ric said with a feeling of foreboding. "Not quite," Connie said, not entirely meeting his eyes. "I just pointed out that if she didn't start looking after herself, she would be back under the knife, only this time it would be mine, not yours." "And what was her response?" He asked carefully. "To ask me how I dealt with the areas of my life I wasn't happy with, to which she all too readily supplied an answer." When she didn't immediately continue, he prompted her. "She suggested," Connie said slowly, feeling slightly foolish that someone she should have regarded as a perfect stranger had got it so right. "That I sleep with more men than I cut up, her words not mine, because it fills a pretty enormous gap in my life." "And do you?" Ric asked gently, already knowing the answer. "Possibly," Connie conceded. "I'm not sure I would have put it like that, though." "So, how would you describe the way you live?" Ric asked, thinking that George Channing had pretty successfully hit the nail on the head. "I pick up men like..." "...Like Mubbs Hussein," Ric put in with a smirk. "How do you know about him?" Connie asked, momentarily thrown off guard. "You really should try to avoid sleeping with the one man who really does go out of his way to advertise his sexual conquests." "It must be a myth that women keep the gossip columns in business," Connie said, vowing to pay Mubbs back for this at the earliest opportunity. "All right, so I pick up men like Mr. Hussein, as a distraction. Is that such a bad thing?" "No," Ric said carefully. "But if you are honest with yourself, you might consider, that you do it for an entirely different reason." He felt her barriers go back up in an instant. "Don't even think of going there," She said firmly. "Why I do what I do, is not up for discussion. Is that clear?" Gently turning her face towards him, he caught the brief flash of fear in her eyes. "I'm sorry," He said, looking straight into her eyes to show his sincerity. "Forget it," She said bitterly. "Just don't try to find out things that I have no intention of sharing with you." Gently playing with a lock of her hair, he kept his gaze fixed softly on hers, watching as she gradually began to relax again. "Why was this afternoon the best and the worst row you've had for a while?" Ric asked, wanting to know more of this enlightening conversation. Connie appeared to have been miles away, Ric's question dragging her back to the present. "It was fantastic, because I'm not used to really finding my match when it comes to arguing, but George Channing really can fight. Even though she was barely twenty-four hours out of major surgery, she fought back with all the anger she threw at me in court. She'd have lasted a good deal longer, if she hadn't been so weak. I think the fact that she already had a reason to be furious with me might have helped. But there's a very basic fact that you're missing with George. Neither you nor Zubin, nor even Carlos would ever have persuaded her to start opening up." "Why so certain?" He asked, wondering what they'd all missed. "It's obvious," Connie said almost scornfully. "She couldn't bear seeing a whole, entirely complete woman." "Oh, I see," Ric said, the realisation beginning to dawn. It had been Connie's figure, as much as her actual self that had wound George Channing up to the point of snapping. "That was a pretty big risk to take," He said quietly, because Connie had been gambling with both George's sanity and her own career, in so blatantly forcing the issue. "Yes," She agreed. "But I felt it was a calculated one. Come on, Ric, you know this job is made up of just as many calculated risks as it is certainties." "And am I a risk or a certainty?" He asked, fixing his gaze on hers. "Well, now," Connie drawled seductively, "Whilst it would be terribly presumptuous of me to say that you are a certainty, I feel that doing so would be a calculated risk." "Is that so," Ric said softly, the deep, gravelly tones making her senses tingle.
When their lips finally met, it seemed to light a spark deep in both of them. They could both taste the spicy flavour of the cannabis, combined with the red wine they'd been drinking since Ric's arrival. It struck Connie that just for once, it was nice to be able to take things slowly, to allow the lust to begin to build, rather than attempting to achieve instant gratification. Seeming to sense this in her, Ric was perfectly happy to take this at her speed, thinking that a long, slow build up would probably increase her enjoyment of it a thousand fold. They remained like this for a while, soft and gentle words mingling with their kisses, the languid tones of Dido taking away the need for conversation. When Connie led his hand to her breast, Ric smiled, allowing her to take the lead for the moment, but vowing to really make her let go with him later on. It surprised him to feel that she wasn't wearing a bra, the soft material of her dress causing a point of friction, as he grazed a thumb over her nipple. She emitted a quiet gasp as he did this, her pupils dilating with lust. After some more of this, Connie said, "Let's go to bed," In a voice that he'd never heard before, a tone that bore no trace of the need to maintain her control. When she'd got what she wanted from him, on the sofa in his office, she had been in control almost to the end, only giving way when her orgasm had swept over her. "What the lady wants, the lady usually gets," Ric said, trying to coax his voice into a vague resemblance of a South American drawl. Connie laughed. "If that's suppose to be an imitation of Carlos, it's terrible." As she took his hand and they moved out of the lounge and up the stairs, Ric found himself wondering if Connie had ever slept with Carlos. "Never, before you ask," She said, astounding him with the level of her intuition. "He enjoys hitting on me, but that's as far as it goes."
Connie's bedroom was enormous, a king-sized bed on one wall, with a dressing table in the most elegant rosewood opposite, the bed having a fantastic view of the mirror. "That's very good planning," He said, glancing over at the positioning of the mirror, as he put his arms round her and began undoing the three buttons at the back of her dress. "Oh, isn't it just," She replied, one hand starting on the buttons of his shirt, and the other moving to his belt. Always count on a surgeon to do at least two things at once, he thought, his eyes widening as her dress slid silently to the floor. Connie wasn't wearing a stitch under her dress, her beautifully smooth skin just waiting to be kissed. He could never entirely remember how he got out of the rest of his clothes, but as soon as they met under the duvet, his hands began mapping every inch of her body. "Are you determined to learn every bit of me by heart, Mr. Griffin?" She teased, his hands setting fire to every nerve ending she had. "Every inch," He said, trailing a hand down over her hip and along her thigh. But as her hand moved to span the considerable circumference of him, he stopped her. "All I want you to do," He said, taking her hand and briefly holding it down to the bed. "Is to lie back and enjoy." "If you insist," She replied, wondering just what he had in store for her. As his hand slipped between her long, slim legs, she reached out a hand to the bedside table, picked up the remote control and flicked on the little stereo on her chest of drawers. As a soft, sexy singer's voice filled the room, Connie resolved to give herself up entirely to whatever Ric might do to her. Ric was immensely gratified to discover just how wet she already was, affirming more than any words ever could, that she really wanted this, wanted him. As he detached his lips from her wickedly sinful mouth, and began kissing his way down her body, mercilessly sucking and soothing her nipples in passing, she realised what was coming. This was yet another of the things that usually got left out of any random quickie she managed to obtain at work, because an office, no matter how comfortably furnished it may be, wasn't conducive to long, languorous pleasure giving, which in this case was only usually intended for one person at a time. It had been quite a while since she'd been accorded this particular delicacy, but as his tongue gently probed the soft, satiny place between her legs, she couldn't help letting out a moan of delight. But Connie wasn't the only one enjoying this. Ric hadn't done this since he'd been engaged to Sam, the quickie with Connie having been the first sexual company he'd had since Sam, not counting the near miss he'd had with Kelly York, who'd turned out to be the resident serial killer. Connie was responding with such alacrity, that Ric knew he couldn't possibly be happier. She cried out, as he gently took the bud of her clitoris between his soft, full lips. "God, you're incredible," She said, her voice not entirely steady. Ric softly laughed, his mouth being too full of her to say anything. As his tongue briefly dipped inside her, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. As he sensed her need to finish this, he returned his tongue to her clit, carefully inching three fingers inside her, feeling the gloriously silky walls that surrounded him. Her gasps increased, her muscles tensed, and her body slightly shook as she came, a strangled cry being dragged from her lips.
As she lay, utterly spent and with her breathing gradually returning to normal, he moved back to lie beside her. When she leaned over to kiss him, clearly taking in every bit of her own taste that he had to offer, he couldn't help but smirk. "That has to be the ultimate in sexual ego," He said as she lay back on the pillows. "What is?" She asked, her voice slightly deeper than normal from her extreme arousal. "Wanting to taste yourself." Connie laughed. "Well, you seemed to enjoy it fairly substantially," She said, laying a well-practiced hand on his rock hard shaft. He didn't try to dissuade her this time, wanting nothing more than to sink himself deep inside her, and to achieve his own release. "I didn't hear you complaining," He said, turning on his side to face her. "Not on your life," She drawled, beginning to kiss him again and still moving her hand on him. "It's been far too long, since I had that particular speciality." "Then in that case, I do hope I lived up to expectation," He replied, knowing that he had. "Oh, but you did," She said, easing a leg under his, to encourage him to move between hers. As he slid his substantial length inside her, she knew exactly why it was, that she'd propositioned him for a second time. He made her feel full to overflowing, her internal walls gripping him easily. He tilted his hips slightly to graze her G spot with every thrust, slipping a hand in between them to stimulate her clit. Ric knew he could last for ages if he wanted to, but as soon as he felt her internal muscles begin to twitch, a sure sign that her orgasm was approaching, he sped up his thrusts, locking his lips with hers as they crashed over the cliff edge of pleasure.
A good while later, they were reclining in the enormous marble bath in Connie's en suite, Ric having been persuaded to go downstairs and fetch the wine. Connie was sitting between his legs, with her back to him as he skilfully massaged shower gel into her shoulders. For tonight at least, she was simply going to let whatever happened to happen, enjoying every sensation Ric was creating in her. It wouldn't do either of them any harm to spend one night in true decadent style, indulging every minor whim. She writhed occasionally under his hands, as he came into contact with a knot of muscle, digging in his long, surgeon's fingers to untangle every tendon. "Is there anything you can't do with your hands?" She asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine on the edge of the bath. "I'm not very good at playing the guitar," He replied, loving the way her skin slid under his touch. "Well, you've been playing me like a pro," she said, leaning back into his chest so that his arms slid round her. He shifted her slightly so that her head was resting on his left shoulder. As both his hands began caressing her nipples, she turned her lips to meet his, both of them tasting of the fruity, earthy red in their glasses. When they came up for air, Connie suddenly thought of something. "You know something else George Channing said to me today?" "I'm all ears," Ric said dryly, seeing that her conversation with George had affected Connie in several different ways. "She said that I was incredibly sexy to the point of erotic fantasy, and that I have everything any man or woman could desire. That was certainly enlightening." Ric laughed. "Well, it seems that Ms Channing and I, actually do have something in common. Though that can't have been the first time you've attracted the interest of another woman." "No, but I've never had my assets pointed out to me so unequivocally by one." "Your assets, are many and varied," Ric said softly, his voice caressing her as gently, though with just as much promise as his hands were doing, one of them leaving her breast to slip down below the water. She gasped as his finger touched her already sensitive clitoris, her body reacting immediately, even though she'd had two very explosive orgasms already tonight. "You really are very naughty, you know," She said, as his long middle finger slid inside her. "I promised you I'd teach you something about behaving badly, didn't I." "Mmm, so you did, and I am delighted to see that you are one of the few men who really can take the pace." As she said this, she began running her left hand up and down his cock, as it rose out of the water like the predatory animal it was. "Well, it would be unforgivable of me, to disappoint you," He said, trying to keep his voice under control. When she turned fully round to face him, wrapping her legs around his hips, with him gently guiding her into place, he said, "You've done this before in here, haven't you." "Oh, many times," She said with such nonchalance that it made him smile. When her boiling heat enclosed him, he realised that she was already very close to orgasm. In this position, it was far easier to keep on touching her clit, perhaps making it the Holy Grail of female sex, the combination of intercourse with clitoral stimulation. They rocked gently back and forth because of the water, meaning that this time, Ric knew he really would last forever. But Connie couldn't, that hand of his was just far too good. She knew she could never go back to the likes of Mubbs up himself Hussein after this. "I'm sorry, I can't wait," She said as her breathing quickened. Increasing the speed in his fingers, Ric moved his other hand to tease her nipples as she clung to him, Connie burying her face in his neck, because she felt ever so slightly ashamed of her inability to last under his hands. He kept sliding in and out of her as her orgasm approached, pressing his lips to her cheek, in a little gesture of generosity, to tell her that her not being able to wait for him didn't matter. As a result of his continual movement inside her, during and after her orgasm, Connie felt another one building almost straight away. This time, Ric joined her in the gradual ascent, holding her to him as they came for his second, and Connie's fourth time. As they gently disentangled themselves, Connie slumping back into her previous position lying against his shoulder, she half laughed. "That was certainly unexpected," She said, taking a hefty slug of her glass of wine. "Hmm," Ric said, briefly feeling the pulse in her neck, which was galloping, just like one of the horses he used to back. "Definitely tachycardic, resulting from extreme sexual excitement." "You don't say," Connie replied dryly. "You'll have to cardiovert me if you do that again."
Half an hour later, they were lying again in her enormous king-sized bed, though this time with the duvet over them. Ric had found a spare toothbrush in her bathroom cabinet, and it had briefly occurred to him that she probably kept a few in stock for whichever man happened to stay over. She was lying in his arms now, her arms around him and her head on his chest. "It's funny," She said drowsily. "But it's really very rare that anyone actually spends the entire night in this bed apart from me." He gently ran his fingers through her hair, thinking that she might be about to drift into the melancholy stage of being a little drunk and a little stoned. "Yet you have possibly the largest bed I've ever seen," He replied, thinking that this must only serve to accentuate how alone she really was. Then it occurred to him that she might not want him to stay. "Do you want me to go?" He asked. "No," She said immediately, slightly tightening her arms around him for a second. "Stay. It's nice having someone here, and I will definitely regret saying that in the morning." "I'd rather you didn't regret any of this in the morning," He said gently, also enjoying the luxury of having a soft, warm female body nestling up against him. "We'll see," She said, always the one to have the last word. As he listened to her breathing becoming slow and steady, he wondered if tomorrow, after the effects of the dope, the alcohol and the sex had worn off, she would go back to her old, closed off self. He didn't want her to, he realised, he wanted to get to know Connie Beauchamp, to begin to undo the web of tightly woven defences that she kept round her, keeping anyone from getting remotely close to the woman she really was.