In her bedroom Neely had done the low-budget equivalent of lowering the lights. Two small lamps were burning, from bookcase and bedside table respectively, and both dresser and headboard had been decked out with strings of multi-coloured Christmas bulbs. Neely leaned into the mirror, swaying her bottom gently as Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie poured from her amped-up iPod. Her moves were vastly more sultry than she was used to, but several glasses of mulled wine were helping her swing into them. A daring theatrical performance for her audience of one.

Her old school tie swayed from its loose knotting down between her naked breasts. The only other garment she wore was the matching pleated skirt, the hem of which skimmed her upper thighs. In the absence of high heels, she stretched onto tiptoe, feet and back arching to draw the plaid up over the swell of her rump—revealing the half-moon curves of her lower buttocks, displaying her pussy’s plumped lips for the benefit of her bed-bound lover.

Literally bound, that was. Four lengths of red silk ribbon wrapped his wrists and ankles, stretching him out and securing him to the corners. That Duke of Edinburgh Award training from secondary school had finally proved its worth. Restraining a man in her modest boudoir, subjecting him to a schoolgirl striptease, it was all newly broken ground. A long stretch from anything her Alton Bridge friends might have expected, but a perfect expression of the secret Neely—the one sublimated since the first erotic stirrings of her teen years.

“My uniform from St Albans High School,” she explained, accentuating the thrust of her ass, allowing her hair to swish about her bare back. “Haven’t worn it since leaving the Sixth Form. Of course, we didn’t wear it quite like this. We weren’t allowed to go without tights.” She gave a Shakira-esque sashay with her rear and eyed him over her shoulder. “… Never mind the knickers.”

She spun around, seating herself on the dresser’s edge with one leg raised playfully, the sole of her foot stroking the polished vertical surface. Her head she cocked to one side, spilling luxuriant tresses over a shoulder, giving him the full Rita Hayworth. A touch reminiscent of her Gilda poster she hoped. “See what a naughty girl you’ve turned me into? Just watching you there makes me want to be positively shameless. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” With his eyes fast upon her, she wet the middle and index fingers of one hand and rotated them slick on a hardening nipple. So much fun to taunt him, make him writhe against his bonds. “You so need punishing.”

Impulse on naughty-girl impulse awoke within her and she acted on every one of them. Even to the point of reaching into her bottom drawer and drawing out her bulbous purple toy. “See what I had to resort to when you weren’t there?” she asked coyly, heart a-thump at her own sexy daring. She set the device buzzing and waggled it upright, so that the vibrating tip almost brushed her lips. “Well a girl gets lonely. Even one who works for the church.” She slung the beast so that it aimed downwards, then dropped it to her thighs and plucked at the hem of her skirt with the tip. “Would you like to see me use it?”

The affirmative was in his eyes. Not letting go his stare she teased the tip of the great throbbing pencil between her swollen labia. Bad girl. I’m such a bad sinful girl. It thrummed on her clitoris, causing a sensory mini-explosion that shuddered her to her toes and her pointed nipples. “Oh my, that feels good. So good.” She allowed the vibrations to shiver through her a moment longer, so that she trembled visibly for her one-man viewership. How deliciously wanton, to be perched there, insteps flexed, toes pressing into the carpet. This would send the guilt-o-meter’s needle into the red zone next morning, but it was worth it for how gorgeous and womanly she felt right now. The taut mask of desire on his face urged her to further misconduct.

“You’re wondering if I’ve ever put it up inside me?” She flipped the vibrator in her hand, directing it upwards between her thighs. “Put it inside and set it buzzing?” Her words and the touch of the dome on her engorged lips caused memory to swell and her head to drop back, eyes closing in reverie. Pussy tightly filled, finger flicking the device steadily up through its settings, sending ripples of sweet sensation coursing through her body as she lay, thighs splayed wide on her bed. The power of that throbbing engine within her loins, the whirr of the lower nodule insistent on her pulsing clitoris—sensation building and expanding till it consumed her with ecstasy, blotting all other thought from her head. Not quite as good as having a thick flesh-cock thrusting inside her, powered by a panting muscled guy, but pretty damn spectacular in its own right. “I think you know the answer,” she said, eyes prising themselves open to look blurrily on him again. “But only because you weren’t around. Maybe you’d like me to put it there now?”

Once more his answer was clear, but she held back from using her birthday toy. Partly through a flash of her once-characteristic modesty, but more due to the smorgasbord of options laid out before her. “No, I’ll leave it for now. I’d rather have you use it on me later. That’s if I decide you deserve it.” She flipped her purple-plastic friend away from her pussy and set it aside. “Besides, I want my wits about me. I’ve got something else to share with you tonight.” Delight bubbled in her stomach so she could hardly contain it. “I’m going to read you a bedtime story.” Her fingers tripped to the paperback lying on the dresser free of its pink wrappings. “It’s a Christmas present,” she confessed, “but I kind of knew what it was, and I couldn’t wait till the day itself. My temperance is shot tonight. Plus, it’s not appropriate reading matter for Christmas morning with the folks.”

Neely caught her lower lip between her teeth as she pushed away from the dresser and padded slowly towards the bed, letting her captive’s eyes rove all over her skirt-and-tie combo. She hoped the fairy-lights were playing prettily on her body. Her lover seemed transfixed, certainly. And what an attractive sight he was, manly form stretched long on her duvet, legs forked and that thick, engorged cock twitching helpless on his belly, craving attention. He was behaving himself; the plump tangerine with which she had gagged him was still in place when he could have spat it out at any moment to express his thoughts.

The book she tossed casually onto the covers. “Such a patient boy.” She climbed onto the bed, trailing trimmed nails from his ankles all the way up, lingering on his lightly haired thighs, then fluttering over his pelvis and stomach, not quite making contact with that gorgeous erection. As she swooped in to kiss his neck, however, her school tie brushed him from balls to swollen tip. “Got you where I want you,” she whispered in his ear, letting her tongue waggle inside before snaring his lobe in her teeth and tugging hard. He groaned and strained against his bindings and Neely paused in a moment’s wonder at having this finely-honed man defenceless beneath her. Such a sinner he’d been, but now he was ensnared on her bed and ready for chastisement.

She drew herself down his splendid body, his cock tugging against the pleats of her skirt as though trying even in its supine position to gain access to her pussy. Her cheek brushed against his broad expanse of pectoral, so that her hair fell all about him. Then she unleashed a flickering tongue on one nipple before sucking him in. His body seized at her mouth’s tight suction, and she held the moment, gratified at his response; then she released him and her tongue wetly soothed. In the interests of symmetry, she attended to the other nipple, the ardent thrash of her tongue slowing to hard suck, then melting into a luxurious licking. The recipient of her discipline grunted against his citrus gag, saliva trickling from the corners of his mouth. Neely stared up at the convulsion of his Adam’s apple, as his head rolled on the pillow, and wondered at herself. Transformation from seduced virgin to sexual tormentor. How she relished her new role. How her cunt dripped anticipation of where it might lead that night.

That thought in mind she dropped further down the bed and claimed her lover’s cock by its thick base, prising it from his belly. A moment of will-I-won’t-I tease extended, as did the smooth rigid column her palm was caressing. She revelled in his expectancy, the defiant not-quite-pleading in his eyes as her lips skimmed his velvety head. His desire fed hers and she took him into her mouth, sealing her lips tight around his glans, till its salty pre-cum discharge diffused all over her tastebuds.

She was alive with her own slutty power, having captured the throbbing source of his virility in her mouth’s succulent trap. Look at his stiff body attempting levitation under influence of her rhythmic oral attentions. Listen to that gurgling ache in his throat as her tongue squeezed his head against the roof of her mouth. Neely was transformed. Gone the virgin fellatrix of mid-summer and in her place a temptress who could use her tongue so that her man writhed with desire. She held him upright at the base and sucked down thick hard inches of cock, eying him through her veil of red hair like a wanton gypsy. That’s it, I want to see you squirm, hear you moan—I want my mouth to drive you insane.

Confidence mounting, she increased her downward plunge, getting his shaft slick with her saliva, staring into his near-frantic eyes as she pumped him. Look at me. This is me, Neely—fucking you with my mouth. She was in a groove now and, in a show of bravado she had not expected of herself, dived far, taking him into her throat. His cock grated wet in her airway, and she had to fight the gag impulse with sheer focus and willpower. I want to do this. I want him to watch me do this, to feel it. She came off him, spitting saliva like a dirty girl, holding him rocket-vertical for her repeat attempt. You think I’m done? Don’t you know how determined I can be? This time she went for it, fully relaxed with her mouth stretched wide, right down till her lower lip touched his ball-sac, swallowing his big rigid dick in the tight sleeve of her throat. Controlled breathing in such circumstances was a talent she had yet to master but she clung on, sustained by her previous intake of breath. Keep it there, keep it there, all of him, all his beautiful hardness inside me, inside my throat, oh holy heavens …

She reversed the dive and lifted off with a messy suction-slurp, gasping and trailing strands of drool which splattered about his thick rod and his stomach. Neely Jordan—whorish and victorious. Her lover was staring with astonishment that mirrored her own. His teeth had bitten through the skin of the tangerine deep into the flesh, all but slicing the fruit in two. She could not help but wonder, even in her excitement, how her deep throat compared with that he had experienced times past. Her cunt, she realised, was ready to take him as her throat had done and the crazed arousal on his face told her he craved the same. But she was not done with her torment. This moment was too exquisite to rush. “You want it inside my … my pussy this time?” The c-word eluded her. She could think but not articulate its nasty sound. Not yet. To compensate she added, “You want to fuck this naughty girl?” adding fricative relish to the ‘fuck’.

Dutifully he let the squashed gag dangle from his mouth; his burning stare was answer enough.

“Well she’s going to make you wait. She’s going to read you that story she promised.” She picked her book from the covers and drew herself up his body, nestling the wet slash of her sex onto his bone-hard length, skirt screening their intimate connection discreetly. She made sure he could see Odyssey of Lust’s heroine naked on the novel’s cover wilting into the arms of a ready male. Smiling she leafed to the final chapter.

“I never told you about this book. Believe it or not it was my summer reading. But, well, events conspired so that I never got to finish it. And I’d like to do that now. I skimmed it earlier and I must say I liked what I read.” She slithered her cunt-lips about his cock, making herself comfy and elicited a tortured growl from him into the bargain. The sound made her ache for him to her core, but this game was too much fun to relinquish yet.

“The story’s unfeasibly silly,” she explained, flicking her hair back so he could see her playful glance and her pert tits, “but somehow, I can’t help but like it. It’s all about this not-very-bright rich girl who travels the world and keeps kind of accidentally having sex. I mean—a lot.” He stared at her, nonplussed. She continued regardless, shifting about expressively to provide a sex-to-sex massage that made his loins hump in response. “So – she’s been rescued from the castle of the wicked and sexually deviant Count Buchenwald by Prince Sven, a member of the Swedish Royal Family. Only it turns out, I discovered today, that Prince Sven is even more wicked and deviant than the count. The whole rescue was in fact a set-up planned between the count and the prince as part of a financial deal and she finds herself added to the prince’s troupe of exotic women, forced to perform for him daily in a sort of lesbian sex-circus. It’s all whips and paddles and big jewelled phalluses. Kinky and disgusting and …” She pulled an embarrassed face. “… Weirdly arousing.

“But then …” She lit up as she came to the good part. “But then her real protector, a Romanian Gypsy King called Dmitry, shows up. He’s not been allowed into Castle Buchenwald, as the count didn’t recognise him as proper royalty, so he gazed up at the room in which she was imprisoned every night as she stood naked at the window. He’s tracked her to Prince Sven’s palace, frees her from the dungeon and challenges the prince to a duel, which he wins, just. He’s wounded, she nurses him back to health, it’s all very beautiful. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he whisks her onto his noble steed, and they gallop all the way back to Romania for sex.” She paused for breath, enjoying her lover’s bewilderment. “Which is the bit we’ve got to now.” She rolled her eyes as she made her confession. “Okay, it’s daft and … well, a bit rubbish. But it’s made me so horny—so, so incredibly horny—from the first time I read it. And now I want to share it with you.”

He ceased to worry about absurd plotting and focused all attention on her lips and the words they uttered.

“Dmitry took firm hold of Sapphire’s waist and guided her from Caspian’s back, setting her down among the blooming corn.” (Neely read it without artifice or satire, quoting it straight, allowing her lips to curl into a smile at the sillier moments.)

“He led the bay stallion to a nearby oak tree and tethered it there, then he turned to gaze on the young, voluptuous American girl he had brought all the way from Stockholm in her simple red dress. He made to remove his shirt but paused to question her. ‘Are you sure this is what you want, my beauty? After all you have been through … Perhaps it is time for you to go home.’”

“‘I know what I want,’ Sapphire replied.” (It was difficult not to lampoon the heroine with a high-pitched breathy voice, but Neely resisted the urge. She didn’t want to dilute the moment’s sexiness.) “‘You rescued me from all of them, but I don’t want anyone to rescue me from you. I want you to make me your captive. Forever.’”

“‘With pleasure my dear,” he said with a grin both kind and wicked. He unbuttoned his black silk shirt and stripped it away, revealing a muscular dark-skinned torso that made Sapphire gasp. He pulled off his boots, then she watched in delight as he unfastened his creased leather pants and pulled them away, letting his … Oh my, these bits always get me hot. … Letting his massive erect cock spring free. It was a cock worthy of the highest kings of Europe. Bit like a cock I’m acquainted with. You could have modelled for this character, babe.” (And Neely wriggled to enjoy the prototype organ to which she referred.) “Sorry, I digress. He strode towards her like a god, tall and strong with his long black hair blowing in the spring breeze, his high, proud man-length … The book’s crammed with phrases like that. They made me laugh at first, but sitting here they seem so damned apt. … His high, proud man-length swaying before him.

“Sapphire’s own dark stallion seized her and pulled her to his naked body, crushing her loins to his thick, throbbing protrusion. Oh …” (The sob escaped her inadvertently and spoiled the cool tease she’d tried to maintain.) “He kissed her hard and this time along with fearsome lust she tasted passionate love. Mmmm—lucky girl. ‘I carried you all the way back here without so much as kissing you,’ he said fiercely, ‘so that I could take you for the first time on my home soil.’ He pulled the straps of her dress away from her shoulders, so that the garment fell from her body, exposing her ripe bosoms. Then he clutched her panties and like on so many previous occasions she felt them being ripped away from her lovely ass, only this time with romance. Wow, are you going to be that kind of romantic to me? (The question, together with their eyes’ contact, made Neely pant. She struggled to go on.) ‘You are truly my captive,’ he said, crushing the swollen fruit of her tits to his chest. ‘And I will make love to you in fields of cornflowers and in the midst of dark forests and on the peaks of mountains and indoors as well. Tender, passionate love and the hard, terrifying love of mating beasts. Each day of our wild, naked lives together.’” (Purple prose regardless, Neely was leaking all over the cock on which she had positioned herself.)

“Dmitry drew Sapphire down into the grass with him, caressing her supple flesh with his strong, calloused hands, squeezing her full breasts and her smooth rounded hips. He took her on top of …” (Neely faltered, her breath catching in her throat. She could hear the rasp of his breathing as well and became aware of how intensely hard her nipples were.) “… Took her on top of him and she realised at the touch of his cock’s head to her pussy that here she had found her destiny. He was about to take her the first of what would be so many times, in so many delicious ways, and she would give herself to him each time with total abandon. Her … Her lips parted and she … sank onto him. Then he gripped her waist and … and pulled her down hard, so that the huge … granite tower of his cock filled her … her … her cunt … utterly.” (Neely clutched one of her own modest breasts as she finished the line and kneaded it with urgency.) “She screamed aloud to the Romanian sunset, as he ploughed her furrow from below. He … He gripped her thighs and … fucked her like a wild bronco, ramming into her lush, feminine grove, as she sat upright upon him … impaling her repeatedly … on  … on … 

“Fuck this. Danny Woodward, I need you inside me.”

She chucked the book away and threw herself onto him, plucking the ruined tangerine from his mouth with her teeth and spitting it off to the side. Then she seized his face and her mouth locked to his in a desperate thrashing tongue-kiss. He responded hungrily, tasting of orange and lust, his tongue coiling around hers to try and tame it. His arms were straining hard, chest heaving beneath her, upper body pulling the ribbon-knots tight in his efforts to get at the little tease who had been tormenting him.

“I’ve missed you.” The phrase, long and breathy, vented more than Neely’s sexual need alone.

“I was at a three-day conference. God, if I’m away a whole week it’ll be the death of me.”

“Don’t you dare,” she moaned, and kissed him with a hunger matching his.

Less ambiguous than the first they’d shared, the kiss-from-nowhere in October. One moment laughing and teasing him about his childhood Transformers collection, whacking each other with sofa cushions, the next her lips sealed to his. Then confusion on both their parts, him backing off like he’d committed an offense, her blushing and telling him it was okay, neither sure who had initiated the embrace. Too soon, way too soon. Three months prior she’d thought herself in love with someone else, yet here she was snogging her new best friend, her rock, the shoulder on which she’d wept herself dry. Whose phone calls and texts and movie nights had got her through and beyond the nightmare of Ray.

Neely recalled it from a distance as she licked his neck and rumpled his shaggy dark hair.

Turmoil all through work at the café next day—Was it me? Have I spoiled things? Will we even be friends after this—till his call at lunchtime. The one that told her what she knew she’d needed to hear: “I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t just mean since last night.”

 Blissful moment that had changed everything.

She prised herself from him on the bed, the fingers of one hand teasing his sweat-dampened chest hair, those of the other diving to their loins, fitting him to her, guiding them together for the hot union they both needed so badly.

How circumspect they’d been that evening at San Carlo Italian restaurant, their first ‘proper date’. Gentlemanly and ladylike, unnerved by the prospect of new intimacy. His suggestion when they’d driven to the harbour afterwards and made out like teens on his seat covers—those words she would never forget. “I don’t ask for more or need it. I’d rather be able to hold you like this than nothing at all. I used to be a churchman, remember? I get it.”

She looked into his eyes under a wash of harbour light and marvelled at the dark angel of Alton Bridge. “You’re … what … suggesting we both be virgins again?”

His smile made her heart flutter and her pussy liquefy. “I’m suggesting we do what’s best for us. For both of us. That we relax and let time work out what that is.” His offer laid to rest all her qualms; or most of them. In theory it was no less a sin than sleeping with Ray, but trembling in a Fiat Seicento under his touch, she knew all the guilt in the world would not hold her back from making love to this man. Two choices occurred in the light of her disastrous summer: scurry back into her chaste fortress and barricade the doors forever or stay outside and—well—climb back on the horse. And if she didn’t mount the horse with Danny, she realised, she’d do it with no one.

Their love in the velvet dark had been shallow-breathed and feverish, as intense as it was tender. Two naked forms undulating on the same tide, stroking and kissing as they fucked. He’d come like he was in his death-throes and at the point of her own orgasm she’d sobbed into his neck. Then he held her till morning, caressing her from sleep with his mouth before he went to the bathroom, so she wouldn’t wake and panic to find herself alone. Her gathering feelings for him crystallised some more in that crucial moment.

The same tenderness merged with horny confidence as she sank onto him now. Neely Jordan groaned with satisfaction, as her cunt took its fill of Danny Woodward’s cock. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve missed this!” She leaned into his chest once more and moved on him, knees digging into the covers, thighs tensed, as she slid smoothly up and down him, relishing his bulging pressure in her wet interior. His hard flesh tight to her softness—condoms cast aside ever since he, on his own insistence, had got clinically checked and she had gone on the Pill. (How decadent that decision had felt.) Now there was nothing between them and she loved it—physical closeness to mirror that of their emotions. She wondered how the past few days had caused her such confusion.

“God, you’re driving me mad …” Danny’s voice grated.

She clung to the muscles of his neck, hauling herself up and down on him, nipples trailing over his chest. “Am I?” she panted, staring into his lust-hazy eyes. “Am I really, baby?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you how much.”

“I don’t know.” She feigned breathless concern. “There’s no knowing what you might do.”

“You know exactly what I’ll do. You’ve read the book.”

Grinning anticipation, she pushed herself up and reached back for the silk knots which secured his legs. Her pelvic movement prised his erection far from his stomach and he bridled at what was clearly an exquisite sensation. She knew she’d be in trouble when she released him.

Their lovemaking had changed incrementally from the first night, Danny’s forceful side revealing itself at her body’s promptings. Two beautiful months had been spent discovering what iron there was in her gentle guy. Her nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as they coupled, suddenly his hand would crack against her flank. Or having teased his nipples beyond his endurance with her tongue, she’d find herself flipped onto her back and pinned, his face alive and animal as he readied himself to spear her. So it had gone, each drawing the other out, a mutual exploration of boundaries. There were gentle interludes too, and those which took on their own crazy momentum. She knew, as she finished unfastening his ankles, that this would be one of the latter. Knew it and welcomed it, leaning forward on the fulcrum of his cock to free his wrists.

“You’ve pulled them so tight, naughty boy.” Naughty boy … The sexual play seemed to well up from that secret place within her she’d always denied. She picked out the knot at one wrist and gasped in a shock of delight as his freed hand shot up to grip her hair, palm flexing amongst her tresses with tender savagery.

“Do the other hand.” His voice was low and hard.

“Yes, Pastor,” she said, affecting meekness as she set about the final bond.

“Don’t call me that. I haven’t been a pastor for two years now.”

“You’re the Pastor,” she insisted, as she undid the knot and eased away the ribbon from his wrist. “You’re the Pastor and I’m the sweet innocent girl in the front pew, hanging on your every—”

He grabbed her two-handed and dragged her face to his, kissing furiously. She clutched back in delirium. “You’re a bad, bad girl,” he informed her close up and seething, before his hands clapped to her bum-cheeks and he rammed it to her hard.

“Oh my God …” The sudden cock-pummelling expelled the air from Neely’s lungs. She grabbed instinctively for her boyfriend’s shoulders, but he released a hand from her rump to push her upright, resuming his double-grip to secure her in the saddle as he thrust.

“I want to watch you, beautiful, like I’m your Gypsy King.”

You are, you so are. Oh my sweet heavens … All she knew was her own ecstatic screams, as Danny squeezed his fingers to her ass-flesh and made her dance like a puppet on his upward-driving cock. There was nothing of his to which her hands could lay claim, so she clutched her own undulating breasts and massaged herself deliciously. Her excitement soared and she burst spontaneously into orgasm on top of him, the Christmas lights in her head more numerous and vivid than those she had strung around the room. Her school tie dangled before her and he used it to drag her back down, mid-way through her climax, into another fevered embrace. He held her shuddering body, passion flaming in his eyes, and subjected her cunt to a rigorous bout of shafting that lasted all through her ecstasy. “Danny!” The extended final wail was punctuated by the rapid-fire smack of his balls against her cheeks.

“Bad girl … Bad girl…” He growled the words like he meant them.

They had navigated their way to this place, her heat drawing out his, her reassurances easing away his caution. “Don’t hold back, show me what you feel. It’s what I want too.” If they were sinning, after all, they might as well sin properly. But this abandonment of all her rules in the heat of sex, it couldn’t be sin, could it? It was a gift … A precious gift come to her in her time of need. She couldn’t have denied him when she craved it so much herself—the unparalleled, indescribable joy of being fucked hard by her lover and closest friend in all the world.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he muttered between clenched teeth, as he gripped her shoulders and drilled into her most secret place.

“You too. You too.” Neely’s voice was weak, her head almost lolling. She clutched at his chest, hair swishing in a tumbled curtain all around him. She loved him, loved this. He and it had rescued her. There was no going back now. God, she supposed, would have to try and understand. That was the thought in her head when Danny gripped hard and rolled her squealing onto her back.

“Had to do that,” he grunted, maintaining his strokes inside her. “Can’t get enough of that pretty hair scattered all about you.” He raised himself off her chest as to admire properly her disarrayed locks. In turn she viewed his long hard torso shunting manfully on top of her, as it drove his cock so very deep. She gazed on all that sweating, hard-fucking beauty, her legs wrapped tight about his lower back, fingers clinging to his arms.

“Fuck me, Danny, fuck me …” She forced out the words more for their aesthetic than for any need to encourage her man; not once did he threaten to relax those cunt-cramming strokes. She gripped his head and he let her pull his body tight to hers, scooping under her and clutching her back. “Oh God, oh sweetheart,” she cried in his ear as the rush came on her, “I’m going to come again …”

His arrival was imminent too, for he powered himself into her, breathing fraught with the need for release. “God, Neely, fuck …” The words captured her major preoccupations of the summer past it occurred to her before all thought was obliterated. She came screaming, her lover jammed tight between her legs, dispelling his own tension deep inside her. Her nails dug hard as she shuddered her joy. Ray had uncaged the tiger, but Danny would bear the scratches on his back.

It took a long time for them to descend from their mini-Everest. Afterwards she ringed him in her arms, as they lay breathing their satisfaction. “I didn’t mean to leave marks,” she said, nuzzling his chest in apology. He smelled of sweat and body lotion. When she licked him, the taste was salty.

“You meant the rest of it,” he replied, hand gliding over her locks.

“Didn’t you find the ‘tied-to-the-bed’ thing cathartic?”

“Absolutely. I’m not complaining. It was very effective therapy, especially with all your personal touches. I was wondering what inspired it, that’s all.”

“You mean aside from your gorgeous manly personage?” Neely wondered how much to tell him. “Maybe I felt appreciative, not having seen you for a few days. Like you were a great big hunky Christmas gift and I wanted to make the most of you.”

“Well that’s understandable,” he said. She swatted him, giggling in response. “But I mean … your conscience won’t give you too hard a time?”

“What, for behaving like a disgraceful slut?” She chewed her lip and considered. “It’ll kick me around a bit tomorrow once I don’t have you near to hug. You know how it is.” Danny squeezed her to himself and kissed her forehead. He knew. “I’ll hear God’s voice, only it’ll sound like my dad’s when I was little. And he’ll say, ‘Cornelia …’ —Dad would always revert to ‘Cornelia’ when I’d been bad—He’ll say, ‘Cornelia, why haven’t you waited? Didn’t the summer teach you anything? What happened to waiting till marriage?”

“And what’ll you say in response?” There was no irony in Danny’s voice, and she loved him for that.

“I’ll say …” She stretched up to kiss his jaw. “… That if he’d wanted me to behave, he shouldn’t have sent you to my rescue after the Ray business. That was asking for trouble.” Their lips met in a lingering caress, and she snuggled back into his chest. “You know, Danny, sometimes I don’t know whether I’m able to make love with you because my whole view of God and the Bible and the church were already changing, or the other way around.”

“Your views are changing because you want to make love?”

“Exactly.”

Danny searched for a response as he caressed her. “One of these days, Neely, you’ll stop being so hard on yourself. Take that from one who’s been there. You’ll accept you’re a good person, one who puts everybody else before herself. And that God made you a sexually insatiable minx. Let’s not forget that.”

“He did, didn’t he?” She bit her lip and clawed lightly at his chest, then turned serious again. “I suppose my spiritual priorities are changing. Less about restrictions on behaviour and more about … you know, the big stuff. ‘Act justly and love mercy and walk humbly with your God.’”

“As Bible texts go, that’s a pretty good one to hold to.”

“I mean, just because I can’t take all Christian teaching literally anymore, it doesn’t follow that I’m rejecting everything which makes me who I am. When the shit hit the fan for you, you might have been mad at the church, but you didn’t reject God.”

“True. Not that I’ve any clear idea what ‘God’ means anymore. But I still thank him for you every day.”

His fingers traced strands of her hair. The pleasure she felt at his words, however, was marred by guilt, and abruptly she made her confession. “Danny … I saw Ray today.”

“You did?” Neely recognised the assumed nonchalance in Danny’s voice. He had always been fine about the intricacies of her past with the journalist-seducer. Right up to the point where he had begun sleeping with her. After that there had been a slight brittleness every time the subject came up. He’d been understanding when she betrayed a moment’s melancholy on the subject, but it nettled him, and she knew it. “Bump into him in town?” he asked casually.

“No.” She did not want to lie to this man. “He emailed me. Said he wanted to meet and set things straight. End them on a better note. So I agreed to meet him for coffee.”

“Okay…” Danny’s expression was the same, but his body had almost imperceptibly stiffened. “That’s fair enough.”

“No. It’s not fair. It was a self-indulgent piece of drama-queening. I didn’t need to see him.”

“I think perhaps you did. What happened between you two had a huge effect on you. It’s okay if …”

“Hush.” Neely put a finger to his lips and kissed him lightly on his cheek. “Stop being reasonable. Danny, I want you to listen to something I have to say. It’s important.” His dark eyes looked into hers and she told him. “I went to see him to get an answer on something I’ve agonised over these past months. Whether there’d been any point or meaning in what happened—in what seemed this huge, seismic experience in my life. Whether the guy I’d let take my virginity had had an ounce of truth in him.” Danny nodded. He’d always assured her he understood.

“Thing is,” Neely said, stroking his stubbled jaw, “I had a sense he wanted to see me for more than an apology. And the thought kind of freaked me. The same fear I think you’ve had, that maybe I still felt something for the idiot. That if he’d meant what he said and felt something despite all his conniving, I might be … blown away by the romance of it, I suppose.” Danny’s smile was wry and for a moment he could hardly hold her stare. “And then when I met him, he made this big declaration. He missed me, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. He … He loved me. And would I give him a second chance? He really put me on the spot.”

“So what did you say?” Danny’s voice was soft.

“I’ll tell you what I said.” She remembered the moment so vividly—the earnest hope in Ray’s face, the weight of his hand on hers—that she could paraphrase the whole thing very closely to the original.

“Ray, I’m with someone,” she’d begun, then soldiered ahead in the face of her ex’s melancholic gaze. Her only remaining emotion had been a profound sadness. “I’m with someone who helped pick me up when it all went wrong.”

“Maybe a rebound thing? I know, it’s not for me to say, but …”

“No Ray, no! I wasn’t ready to rebound off anyone. You have no idea how messed up I was, not able even to think that way. It’s a miracle I could trust anyone after that, but … amazingly the right person was there. Someone I felt I knew. From the start, instinctively. And Ray, I never knew you. Not truly. Not in a way that meant anything in the end.”

He did not divert his eyes, but it struck her that the light behind them dimmed a little.

“I can forgive you, Ray, and that’s an even bigger miracle. I hope in my heart that we, what there was between us, whatever it was, did mean something to you. I hope it’s showed you what you’re really looking for, and I hope you find that. I hope you find someone. Someone you can be real with. Someone you can treat the way she deserves to be treated.” Although she’d tried to stem her tears, two were racing for her chin by now. “But it won’t be me.” She set her hand on his and let it linger a moment. “I’m going to go now. Goodbye Ray. Take care.”

“After that,” she told Danny, welling up slightly with the telling, “I got out of there. I went slipping and skidding all up the high street with the tears freezing on my face. The whole thing seemed so damned sad and stupid. But … something occurred to me when I calmed down. Made sense to me like it hadn’t before.” She cradled her boyfriend’s jaw as she said it. “He was the first person I ever had sex with. Supposed to be the only. And so I invested … all this emotional, spiritual meaning in it. But at the end of the day, it was a shag. That’s all. So he shagged me. Big deal. You do that—really really exquisitely, I might add—and you care for me. And respect me. And get me.”

She nestled closer to him, sensing his body’s warm response. “And I do all those things back at you, sweetheart.” Their lips met and moved in union for a moment. “So that I want to let everyone know I’m with you. Start with Leo and then go on to everyone at church.” He went to protest, but she shushed him with another touch of her finger. “I don’t care what they think of you, or of what they’ll think of me for being with you. You don’t need to protect me from your reputation, ex-Pastor Woodward. I’m proud to be with you. I’d be proud to be seen with you. Danny, I love you.”

Danny’s sigh, as his arms enfolded her, was deep and heartfelt. “Well, thank God for that.”

“I do,” she replied. “Every day.”

They snuggled for the longest time, till kissing led to full-body caresses. And then, they fucked each other to Kingdom Come.

~~~~

01/01/11 14:23 GMT

So Carlotta,

Happy New Year. I’m sure you’ll treat the forthcoming twelve months with the same contempt as you meted out over the past dozen. Much joy may it bring you.

Actually, you might be proud of me again, though I doubt it. I was out partaking of the local Bacchanalian revels and bumped into none other than Katie the college slut whose debauching you felt I took too much pride in early last summer? The bumping was literal—I made her spill some of her drink and when she recognised me, I thought for a moment I was going to wear the rest around my silk shirt. She resisted the urge, however, and in her semi-inebriate state was surprisingly amenable to my charm. That’s despite the fact that the last time we’d been together I left her as the focal point of a university dorm gangbang. I laid on both sweet-talk and innuendo and somehow managed to win her back around. Result—we kissed at midnight and went back to her room in her student digs, where I fucked her into January of next year. Then I left.

As sex goes, it was perfunctory, hard, serviceable. An adequate January 1st ball-draining. It was also utterly hollow. And it’s left me today feeling rather sick. You ever feel like that, Carlotta? Or does the drive you have in your professional life get you through? Does it keep you from dwelling on the yawning void that is your soul?

I’ve never put much store in New Years. Ringing in the new, changing your life. But then I’ve never believed much in anything—Jesus or Buddha, Krishna or fucking Zeus. Worry beads or feng shui. I did believe in something for a while. In someone. But she’s not there anymore. And she’ll never be there again.

I’ve done blaming you, Lotta. The fault for this one lies squarely with me. Not that you’d give a damn one way or the other, or even open this email. In fact, now that I think about it, there’s really no one to share it with.

Guess I’ll send it to myself.

~~~~ 

02/01/11 11:33 PST

Jude,

Delighted to get your email as always. I suppose I should wish you congratulations on your New Year’s Eve engagement to the lovely Estelle. I’m flattered that despite your forthcoming matrimonial bliss you still found time to express your craving for me electronically. The fantasy scenarios you spun were so intense I pictured you pumping liquid lust all over the keyboard by the end of it. A certain bride-to-be would be shocked at the naughty fucker whose ring she’s wearing. I’m so glad we’ve stayed in communication, you deliciously dirty man.

I have blissful memories of last summer also. You rescued me from the tedium of my business trip when my original London fuck-friend—a journalist, name of Raymond—proved desperately disappointing. I’m glad fate had us doing business together, Jude, especially all that wonderfully sordid business back in my hotel room. How you ducked out of commitments with your then girlfriend, now fiancée, to get up to those messy games with me—you have no idea how arousing I found it. I still wake up in the small hours fingering my wet cunt to memories of what you did to me with your mouth, your fingers, and your gorgeous cock.

So, sweetie, you want to see me again? You’re craving one more interlude of hot abandon before marriage consumes you? Who can blame you, sexy man? Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more than to indulge you completely. Problem is, you can hardly find excuse to fly out here and it’s tricky for me to manufacture further business reasons to come to the UK. Of course, it’s an effort I’d be willing to make if you made resistance impossible.

You know, baby, all about my weakness for bad boys. Your willingness to take risks in pursuit of my pussy last July was so damned hot. The more a man is driven in pursuit of his sexual goals the more irresistible I find him. I think you’re that kind of a man—sinfully, gorgeously debauched—but some demon in me wants you to take it a step further. I can’t help it, Jude. When I meet a man as attractive as you, I want him to prove what a devious, devil-may-care fucker he really is—how far he’ll go to possess what he wants. I want him to push his wicked limits. We both know what that would mean for you, don’t we?

Sophie, your fiancée’s sweet sister—I haven’t forgotten the relish with which you talked about her in my hotel room that night. I teased and sucked your balls till you let the whole fantasy spill. How she flirted with you drunkenly at a family party and can hardly meet your eye since then. How the moment made your cock swell in retrospect. Are things still awkward between you two? That unresolved sexual tension and fabulous sense of taboo? God, the fever in your voice when you told me about her … I get so turned on thinking of a bastard bad enough to fuck his bride-to-be’s pretty sister. Are you man enough for that task?

Call it a sickness, but I swear—if I knew you’d nailed your future sister-in-law the way you want to, I’d be your quivering naked fuck-slave. I’d air-mail myself to you in nothing but high-heels and a butt-plug. I’d worship your cock and make you feel like a fucking king. 

Ignore me, it’s just the filthy slippery-thighed whore in me talking. Weaving a fantasy, making a stupid New Year’s wish. You’re still not bad enough at heart to take up my silly challenge, are you? To play my naughty game. Though what a magnificent stud you’d be if you did.

Kisses,

Carlotta.

~~~~

Epilogue: Neely’s New Year Prayer

Hi Lord, Happy New Year.

Okay, taking into account that you exist outside of and through all space and time, that’s pretty daft and conjures up the thought of a huge, bearded man setting off a vast cosmic party-popper, which is not a helpful image in expanding my notion of the Divine. But, well, Happy New Year anyway.

Thanks for last year, enabling me to take the bad with the good. That my dad’s in better health and mum’s not fretting so much. And that Layla and Phil and the kids are all okay and little Megan’s eczema has cleared up some. You know how much I love them.

Thank you for Jaz, that we’re talking again. Nice to chill out with her—almost like old times. Maybe better. More open. But we’ll see how that goes, right?

Big thanks for last night. It was great Danny and I could spend New Year with Jonas and Leona … that they forgot about his legendary status so quickly and got to know him for who he is. He and Jonas hit it off like they’d known each other for years. Leona’s a sweetheart, even if she’s an impossible cheat at Pictionary. Mind you, Jonas did say he’d call her on it when they got home and from the look on his face, he meant more than a good talking-to. I’m guessing they saw in the New Year in much the same way as me and Danny. Oops, blushing.

It was good to be able to share him at last, Lord. I’m thrilled he’s accompanying me to Leo and Graham’s do as well, that he’s not my big secret anymore. I’d let the wider church know, but I think Pastor Simmons has enough to contend with for now. Prospect of becoming a grandfather and all that. I suppose it was only a matter of time before Luke knocked up one of the youth group, but I’m sorry it had to be Lacey McMichaels. Such a sweet girl, but unfortunately not the brightest star in the firmament. I’m glad she’s able to talk to me about it. To say nothing of her prospective dad-in-law bending my ear every other day. Think there’s any chance I can convince him that emotionally blackmailing her into marrying his snot-bag son isn’t a good idea? No, I don’t either, but I’m damned (forgive the phrase) if I’m going to let her be saddled in matrimony with that teenage weasel, just because it’s ‘the moral thing to do’. I suppose that’s reason enough to stay on at Alton Bridge for a while, at least until I get onto a Masters course at Uni.

Thanks that Danny’s so supportive. And thanks for him—right guy, right time. And I suppose while we’re on the subject of last year, thanks for Ray, without whom I’d never, realistically, have got together with Danny. Certainly never had sex with him, not till we were legally wed. Thank you for lovemaking. And—going out on a limb here—thank you for … No, can’t say it. Yes, I can. Here goes. Deep breath … Thank you for fucking. There, said it. Still here. Haven’t spontaneously combusted. And thanks most of all for when making love and fucking are the same thing. Like around 3 am this morning. Thank you so much for that.

Think it’s going to be a good year? That you and I will get beyond all our misunderstandings?

Yes, Lord. Yes. So do I. 

The End