Bella sat expectantly astride one of the iron roof trusses high up in the roof of Madrid's Atocha rail terminus.

Far below, passengers were filing off the sleeper train which had just arrived from Paris. She scanned the tiny figures in search of Professor Maurice Kershaw and his wife Ursula. Bella knew they were on this train, as she had spotted their names on the passenger manifest in the SNCF offices. It was over two months she had seen her lover.

At last, at the tail of the column came the tall distinguished Englishman, followed by the dowdy figure of his wife. They crossed the palm-lined concourse and headed for the station's main exit. Slipping on her magic gloves, Bella slid from her vantage point and silently fluttered down, landing gracefully behind the overweight Englishwoman. "Shall we walk up to the apartment?" Kershaw called back to his spouse. "It's such a lovely morning."

"We'll get a taxi. I'm exhausted," his wife barked back. "I barely got a wink of sleep on the train last night." Her husband dutifully joined the long queue waiting for cabs and half-an-hour later they pulled up outside the Kershaw's apartment block, behind the famous Prado art gallery.

"And don't tip him, Maurice."

"Why ever not?"

"Because he didn't open the door for me to get in at the station."

The elderly woman lumbered into the building's entrance hall, leaving her hen-pecked husband to remove the luggage and pay the driver. As he turned around, Professor Kershaw was amazed to see the beautiful Bella leaning nonchalantly beside the building's front doorway. She had her arms folded and her signature blue SNCF ticket collector's cap was set at a jaunty angle. Her red ruby lips looked as inviting as the last time he had kissed them.

"Hello stranger," she purred. "Fancy seeing you."

In disbelief, Kershaw dropped the litre bottle of duty free gin he had been nursing under his arm. It smashed on the pavement. Before he could answer his lover's greeting, Ursula had angrily flung open the glass entrance door. "Maurice! What on earth's got into you? Get those cases inside. I'll get the conceirge to take them up. Then you'd better go round the corner to the mini-market and get me another bottle of gin."

Bella gave a wicked smirk, shook her head and pouted her lips as Maurice Kershaw slipped off on his errand of mercy. When he returned, the pavement had been swept clean of the glass shards by the conceirge, but Bella had vanished. He rode up in the elevator to the ninth floor.

As he stepped out onto the plush carpeted lift lobby, the professor found Bella now languidly draped along a long leather sofa. Her slim trouser-clad legs were crossed and she'd kicked off her black suede pumps. She held out her arms. "Come and kiss me, darling; it's been such a long time. And whatever you do, DON'T drop wifey's gin!"

Placing the bottle carefully on a low side table beside the sofa, the Englishman tenderly embraced the young woman. "I've missed you so much," he said.

"Me also, sweetie. I keep remembering that wonderful return trip we had up to Paris on the night sleeper. And all the naughty things we got up to in our first class compartment."

"Like the golden rain session in the shower?"

"Especially that!"

But before the couple's lascivious reminiscences could continue, the apartment's front door was flung open, revealing Ursula, now in a shapeless cotton housecoat. "Maurice! What on earth are you doing out here talking to yourself? Did you get my gin?"

Knowing his wife couldn't see Bella, the professor stood up, but held onto one of Bella's gloved hands. "Yes, my dear. It's there on the table."

After Mrs Kershaw had retreated to the kitchen with her liquor, her husband sat on the sofa alongside his phantom lover, before kissing her tenderly on her scented neck.

"Mmmm. I adore it when you do that, darling. So what shall we do this evening, once the old trout's gone to bed?"

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to get away, Bella."

The young woman consulted her watch. "She'll be in bed with one of her migraines, half-cut, by 8.30pm. I guarantee. Why don't we go up to the Retiro?"

"But doesn't the park close at 8.00pm?"

"I know a special way in. We'll go up to the old Palm House by the boating lake and make love amongst the bougainvilleas. It'll make me smell of the flowers' fragrance and your semen. How does that sound?"

"It sounds divine."

"Right, I'll be downstairs in the entrance lobby at 8.15pm. If she's still conscious, just tell her you're popping round the corner for a coffee." She kissed his forehead. "Arrivederci professore."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the light of the old-fashioned street lamps, Maurice Kershaw and Bella walked together hand-in-hand up to the huge city park, stopping by its gilded wrought iron entrance gates, which were closed and locked. Bella bent down and slid a loosened brick from the base wall of the adjacent railings, to retrieve a huge iron key. She winked at Maurice as she slipped it into the gate's keyhole, then swung one leaf open sufficiently for them to slip inside.

"Is it safe coming in here at night?" he asked nervously.

"How do you mean?"

"Don't they have night vision CCTV cameras fitted?"

She scoffed. "You're joking! They can barely afford to cut the grass these days, what with the state of the Spanish economy." She tugged his hand impatiently. "Come on, this way."

They made their way cautiously along a footpath which led to the huge glazed octagonal structure which overlooks the Retiro's boating lake. She took her smart phone from the back pocket of her slacks and switched it on. Its blank purple screen showed a cluster of winking silver lights.

"What's that?"

"It's an astral app. Shows me the location of all the other couples who are in the park tonight. Wow - look at that!" She held out the screen for him to see. "There's a threesome going on in a clump of laurels just off this path. Fancy taking a look? Might be some hot action."

"I'd rather not if you don't mind, Bella," came the coy response.

"Okay sweetie." She squeezed his hand. "Methinks my English professor wants to be inside his lover as soon as possible. Would I be right?"

"Something like that."

She reached across and gently stroked the crotch of his trousers, locating an inviting bulge. "Yes, just as I thought! OK, we'll soon be there, hun. Then Bella will strip for you. It's always warm in there at night because of the tropical plants. We'll fuck in the altogether, shall we?"

"I'd like that very much."

"Been getting any from wifey?"

"No way. The wretched menopause rules our sex life nowadays."

"Poor you. No bit of fluff on the side? One of your pretty students?"

"Nope."

"Just solo masturbation?"

"I'm afraid so. How about you?"

"I've had one or two sessions with strangers, on the night sleeper down from Paris. But nothing as remotely sexy as our first time together."

"Who were they, these other strangers? I think I might be jealous."

"Oh don't be. Just lonely businessmen. I have to say that the French are the most attentive. And the Russians are the worst."

"Really?"

"Two-and-a-half minutes to cum usually and that's it. Then little Bella gets the Order of the Russian Boot and I'm out in the corridor. Bastards."

They had reached the tall glazed entrance doors of the deserted Palm House. After locating another secret hiding place for a key, Bella let them in. The humid atmosphere was suffused with a heady night-time fragrance. She expertly guided the professor to a long slatted wooden bench set beside a trickling fountain.

"What's up?"

She squeezed his hand tightly. "Every time I hear running water I have an urge to do pee-pee. Odd isn't it?"

"Well don't let me stop you, darling. I'd adore to watch you piss into that pool."

"Truly? Like the Mannekin Pis?"

"Yes. But you're better looking than that Brussels statue."

Bella needed no second invitation. She slipped out of her railway-issue trousers and blouse, but left her black half-cup bra in place. Then pulling her panties to one side and pinching her labia lips, she began to direct an amber arc of her pee-pee into the pool. She smiled sweetly at her lover as she did so, knowing how aroused he was by this act of intimacy. "Now it's your turn. Like me to hold it for you?"

Afterwards, they dressed and laid their clothes along the bench, making a reasonably soft and comfortable bed on which to lie together. The moonlight on her beautiful firm breasts seemed to accentuate the blackness of her areolas and their firm nipples.

As he slid his erect cock gently inside her moistened lips, Bella's quim gave a satisfying squelch of welcome, making her giggle once again. His gentle rhythmic movements allowed him to thrust ever-deeper. Then clutching her slender hips tightly to indicate the proximity of his orgasm, he filled her to overflowing, causing her to moan softly: "Belisimo!"

After they had lovingly cleaned each other up and dressed, Bella told her professor that she was going to take him to the boating lake.

They cautiously navigated the narrow wooden walkway which projected out above the water, against which all the small rowing boats for hire were moored, clambering down into the one at the furthest end of the line. Seated side-by-side, they took an oar each and slowly rowed out onto the moonlit lake. They lited their oars, allowing the little craft to drift forwards through the water under its own momentum.

"Ever made love in a rowing boat?" Bella asked.

"Can't say I have. You?"

"Once. Off the coast of Siciliy. I was on the floor of the boat and he was a young fisherman. Made me violently sick, I'm afraid. Fancy trying it here? For Round 2?"

Maurice Kershaw stroked his lover's arm affectionately. "You have to remember, Bella dearest, that I'm not as young as I was. I need quite a long recovery time these days."

She stood up and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Okay. Then how would it be if I stood in front of you and you took me with your tongue? I remember how good you were at cunnilungs on the train - though I'm afraid I didn't bring any raspberries."

He gently unzipped her trousers and lowered her tiny pink panties until they were around her ankles. The boat had drifted to a stop.

As he went to push his coiled tongue into the opening she was making for him with one hand, he tasted the blended aroma of her love honey and his recently spent semen. He pushed on in and swallowed. This was a unique experience for the elderly Englishman; drinking your own cum from your lover's slit. She gently placed her other hand on the back of his head. "Go deeper darling. Eat me! Make me cum all over your face."

He was as far in as hs tongue would extend, but an encouraging nudge from above caused the tip of his nose to slip into her vagina. Instinctively he inhaled, causing her lovely juices to trickle into his throat to be swallowed. He rubbed his face greedily over her wetness and even gave a gentle moan himself.

Retaking her seat beside him, Bella pulled up her panties. "Ever done that before?"

"Never. It was mind-boggling."

"Wasn't bad where I was standing either."

Dipping an oar into the water, the Englisham turned the little craft around, before they gently rowed themselves back to the jetty.

On dry land, Bella checked her smart phone and announced that most of the park's other illict lovers had left. "What say we go down to that bar around the corner from your apartment for a coffee and a cognac? They stay open until 2.00am."

"Good idea."

Half-jokingly she added: "Then maybe we can plan Round 3", causing convulsions of laughter as they strolled down the hill. Half-an-hour later they were seated on the small terrace of the late-night bar. There were a handful of customers inside, but no-one was outside. Maurice Kershaw brought out therir second brandies.

"So tell me, Bella: how exactly does this spectral stuff work? How do you manage to move from visibility to invisibility?"

She tugged her snakeskin gloves until their edges touched her elbows. "These. They're like the TV channels on your remote control." She rolled the ends down to her wrists and nodded towards the bar's interior. "Channel 1.Those guys in there can see you talking to a dark-haired young woman out here. But this afternoon, on the apartment block's landing - when my gloves were up to my elbows: Channel 5. Ecco. Poor wifey thought you were talking to yourself!"

Mention of Ursula jarred Kershaw back to the present. "I hope she's alright up there." He nodded in the general direction of the apartments.

"She's fine, sweetie. Over-dosed herself on her headache pills, that's all. Got a bit squiffy on the gin and forgot how many she'd taken. She'll be out for the count until the morning." The remants of the brandy were knocked back with nonchalance. "Same again?"

He grinned. It was obviously going to be a serious session. He held out his empty glass. "Why not."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At 2.15am the bar's aluminium chairs were being pointedly stacked on the tables by the proprietor. He stepped outside and nodded at the professor, though he was clearly oblivious of Bella's presence. She moved around the table behind Maurice Kershaw, stroking the back of his neck with her long gloved hand. She bent forward and kissed it. "Bedtime I think," she whispered. "Okay if I stay at your place?"

He stood up. "So long as you're sure Ursula won't wake up."

"Trust me. She won't be back in the land of the living until morning."

Leaving the bar, the phrase 'land of the living' swirled around in Bella's head. "Would it be so difficult," she mused, "to despatch Ursula for good? Reverse the wiring on the kitchen's toaster, perhaps, and create grilled trout? Or wait until she's pickled with gin and just tip her over the balcony? Nine floors should do it."

As they approached the apartment building, Bella glanced at its brass-framed set of bell pushes, imagining that Number 92 might one day read: 'Sra Bella Kershaw'. Her lover took his latch key from his jacket pocket and pushed the big glass entrance door open for her. As they waited for the elevator, she asked sweetly: "How do want to do it? Round 3?"

"Oh you choose. You've got a dirtier mind. But nothing too active please, Bella." The bronze elevator doors slid open and they stepped in.

She snuggled against him. "How about if we make love on that sofa in your sun lounge? I'll give you one of my de luxe blow jobs and maybe your could finish by giving Bella a lovely facial? I'm sure it would do wonders for my complexion."

He pushed the button for the ninth floor. "On one condition. Promise me you won't scream when I cum?"

"You obviously remember our session on the train. Okay, but I may moan a little!"

As they rode up, Bella stroked the crotch of his trousers and purred with satisfaction at feeling a lovely large bulge.

To be concluded...