Читать книгу Indigo Bloome Collection: The Avalon Trilogy: Destined to Play, Destined to Feel, Destined to Fly - Indigo Bloome - Страница 16

‘How are you feeling?’

‘A little disoriented.’ I sit up on the bed carefully. It definitely feels weird, like I’m in a black dream. I can’t open my eyelids; they are dead weights on my face. I keep turning my head, searching for light, but of course, there isn’t any.

‘Now, was that really so difficult?’ Jeremy teases.

‘It wasn’t easy, I can assure you. And I can’t recall you volunteering in my place.’

‘This weekend is about you, sweetheart, not me.’ I don’t want to go there again.

‘What was it? That you put on my eyes?’

‘Rest assured, nothing that hasn’t been approved by the strictest pharmaceutical standards. I wouldn’t put you in any danger. I’m a doctor, remember, I take my oath very seriously.’

Great, moral standing and access to any drugs he so desires.

‘That’s very reassuring, Doctor Quinn, given my current situation.’

He laughs. ‘Honestly, are you alright? Can I help you?’

‘I’m sure I’ll need a lot of help with everything now that you have made me one hundred per cent blind! Are you sure this isn’t permanent?’

‘The drops last twenty-four hours give or take. I’ll redo them tomorrow. Let me know when their impact is fading.’

‘No problem. I’ll be sure to let you know the second any light comes in.’ My voice is laced with sarcasm. I raise my hand wanting to feel my eyes first-hand. They feel so heavy, so bizarre.

‘Oh, no you don’t.’ My hand is guided away. ‘No touching whatsoever. That is why you will also be wearing this blindfold, as a reminder to leave your eyes alone.’

‘No way! That won’t be necessary. I can’t see a thing.’

‘It is and you will.’ He places it over my head. It fits snugly against my eyes and feels silky soft.

‘Well, well, another perfect fit. Did you have it made especially?’ I say jokingly.

No answer. ‘Jeremy?’ There is a long pause.

‘Yes Alex, as a matter of fact, I did.’

***

‘Come with me.’ Jeremy holds both my hands and assists me carefully up from the bed. I forget I have high heels on and stumble a little before I regain my balance.

‘Wow, this is really, really weird.’ He places his arm around my waist and leads me out of the second bedroom rather precariously. I feel like an invalid. I am stunned this has happened, that I am now blind and fully dependent on Jeremy for the weekend. It makes me feel nervous and tense, but also excited somehow, not knowing what to expect. My dreamlike state has evaporated so I can only hope I’m not entering into a dark nightmare.

‘Here, let’s sit on the lounge.’ He guides me down into the soft velvet cushions. I feel either side of me for armrests but there aren’t any. I wonder how blind people do this every day of their lives? Not knowing how or when things are happening. The positive voice inside me is quietly grateful I had spent some time in the hotel suite earlier. At least I have some familiarity with my surroundings.

A knock on the door startles me.

‘Stay here, I’ll be right back.’ His hands leave mine before I can respond. Jeremy briefly greets whoever is at the door as I sit on the lounge silently like a complete idiot with a blindfold on. I am deeply embarrassed.

I hear noises of plates being efficiently set up and arranged and a bottle crushing into ice, perhaps refreshing the champagne? There is a vague aroma of food in the room. There is no discussion between Jeremy and the ‘door people’ as they go about their business and they remove themselves as quickly as they arrive. I hear Jeremy thanking them and securely closing the door behind them.

He sits beside me on the lounge and places a glass of champagne in my hand.

‘Thank you, Alexa, this means everything to me.’

It is so strange not being able to see that I find myself utterly lost for words, so I don’t say anything. I hear our glasses clink together and feel a desperate need to gulp the bubbles down fast. I swallow as much champagne as physically possible, so urgent is the need for me to drink it. I suddenly feel completely out of control, reality hitting me like a brick on the head. I find myself wishing for another shot of absinthe to numb me from it all. What have I done? Anything could happen … I have literally handed myself to him on a platter. Oh well, what possible difference could another glass of champagne make? At least if I pass out I won’t be conscious of how freaked out I am. The rational voice in my head quickly questions the sanity of this particular logic. I keep tipping the glass up but it must already be empty given nothing is coming out.

‘Whoa, Alex! You never drink that fast!’

‘No. I don’t, Jeremy.’ I finally find my voice. ‘But extreme situations can result in extreme behaviour.’ I place my glass out into the space in front of me.

‘Would you mind filling up my glass again, please? This champagne is delicious.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks tentatively.

‘Oh, yes, I am very sure I would love another glass of champagne. I would be very happy to pour it myself if you would be kind enough to direct me to the bottle, although I would hate to spill any on the lush, five-star carpet,’ I say pointedly.

‘You’re mad at me?’

Such an emotional rocket scientist, I think to myself sarcastically; maybe his EQ isn’t quite what I thought it was after all. Or maybe it is? I’m not so much mad at him as angry at myself for allowing this ridiculous situation to occur in the first place. The reality of being blind has caught me completely off-guard. It’s one thing to be enticed by the concept, the sensuality of the idea, quite another to know I’ll be living like this for the next forty-eight hours. My emotions are threatening to overwhelm me as the significance of what I have just done settles in to my bones.

As I can’t see him, nor read his emotions, I just keep holding out my empty glass, waiting for him to provide the refill, needing the alcohol to fill the void.

‘Alexandra, are you really angry with me? Honestly?’

Another Alexandra moment. I wait with my glass extended toward his voice. He takes it, refills it and places it back in my hand. Thank goodness. I’m relieved as I raise the bubbly liquid to my lips. I decide to ignore his question, believing it at least gives me some control.

‘Lovely champagne, Jeremy. What is it? I’m not sure I’ve had it before.’

I sense he is bemused at my avoiding his question. Unfortunately, he knows me well enough to recognise the more polite I am being, the greater the emotion I am hiding. Basically, he knows me almost as well as I know myself, if not better. Which is no doubt why I am sitting here in a ball gown, with a blindfold on, in the penthouse suite, trapped for the weekend. It is just all the more frustrating.

‘It’s Krug. We had it when I graduated. You loved it then as well, said it put you in a really great mood and —’

‘Oh, yes, I remember.’ I cut him off, not wanting his version of a trip down memory lane right now. My emotions are in overdrive, all the hypnotic calmness having taken its leave.

‘Well, all the more reason for drinking it now.’ I say as I take another sip. At least I am not gulping it now. I hear him sigh.

‘Will you at least have some hors d’oeuvres to go with your champagne?’

I have to agree some food wouldn’t go astray. Even though my mind is spinning and my emotions are all over the place, I’m sure my rational brain wouldn’t be encouraging me to drink any more alcohol without food.

‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ I say very politely, formally. I can just imagine him rolling his eyes at my behaviour.

‘Open your mouth, please.’ He is close to me.

‘In my hand will be fine, thank you.’ It feels good to assert myself.

‘Alex, this is ridiculous.’ I take another sip of champagne in defiance. Maybe being blind doesn’t result in complete dependency after all. I can’t help but allow a small smirk to ripple across my face. He quickly snatches the glass out of my hand.

My smirk vanishes immediately.

‘Open your mouth and I will give you your glass back.’

I am just about to answer back when something small and delicious lands on my tongue. Taken aback, and with a mouthful of food tickling my tastebuds, I decide to close my mouth and eat it. After all, it would be a shame to waste such tantalising cuisine. Another one arrives not long after. Blini — absolutely delicious. I can taste the strong flavour of smoked trout against the light buckwheat pancake and feel the salmon roe slide around my mouth. The slightest hint of fennel confirms they are just like the ones we had in Russia all those years ago, amazing! Though I’m pleased we are drinking champagne rather than vodka as we were back then. My stomach is very grateful for the food.

‘More?’ I hear him ask. I nod and turn toward him, not really wanting to give him the satisfaction of my words. Something warm and soft arrives this time with an aroma of garlic and herbs.

‘Mmm.’ This time I can’t help but let out a groan in delicious delight. ‘Gorgeous. Scallop?’

‘Indeed it is.’ He dabs the corner of my mouth with a linen serviette. ‘Another?’

‘Yes, please,’ I hear myself answer. After I swallow it he hands me back my glass of Krug. I sense he is happy that my frustration is dissipating alongside the food and champagne. Something about good food and wine that lifts the spirit, I think to myself.

‘Care to share your thoughts?’

I eventually come to the conclusion that my anger is a result of my anxiety about losing control, particularly as I am so used to being in control of everything. I allow the emotion to leave me, as it is serving no purpose. Given my current predicament it would make the next forty-eight hours downright miserable for both of us, so I relent and share my thoughts with him. Although I am still on edge with my blindness and the dependency that surrounds me, it feels better being at ease with Jeremy and allowing the conversation to flow between us.

After a few minutes of banter, Jeremy sidles up against me.

‘So tell me, honestly, how do you feel? Are you having fun?’ He lifts me slowly off the lounge to my feet.

‘Oh. Let me get this straight. You are allowed to ask as many questions as you want but I can’t ask any, is that the way it works?’ He caresses my neck and collarbone with his lips, oh so slowly, his breath like a feather against my skin.

‘Yes, that’s the way it works, for this weekend, anyway. There will be plenty of time for your questions later. So tell me, does this excite you?’ he asks again as his lips locate the top of my breast and I feel a little light-headed as my breath becomes radically uneven for the umpteenth time this evening. His touch engages the rest of my body and my vulva swells and moistens in anticipation. I can’t withhold a slightly muted sigh at the sensation.

‘Oh, so the answer is yes,’ he whispers into my ear as his teeth nibble my lobe.

‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly, ‘it excites me a little.’ Not wanting him to take away my words as he has my sight. His kisses feather and tease my lips.

‘It does me too, very much,’ he says as he lowers my hand to feel the bulge fighting against his trousers. It takes all of my concentration to prevent me from falling to my knees and devouring him then and there. The power of this raw, sexual emotion almost cripples me. I wonder if I know myself at all …

The phone rings at that exact moment which startles me from my fantasy back to reality. He continues to hold my hand so I blindly follow him as he answers it, taking exaggerated, careful steps to balance on my heels.

‘Wonderful, thank you. We are on our way.’ He hangs up. ‘Alex, you look panic-stricken, what’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all, why do you ask?’ I say nervously, wringing my hands together. Can it be that even with a blindfold covering my eyes, he can still read that much expression on my face?

‘Good, are you ready to accompany me to dinner?’ With these words, the panic infiltrates my bones. He can’t be serious, can he?

‘We aren’t really going out to dinner, Jeremy … I can’t possibly go out like this. Please, please tell me you’re joking.’

‘Of course we are. Why on earth would I waste you looking so exquisite and keep you confined to a hotel room? That would be absurd.’

I feel my breath shortening again. Keep calm, breathe, I say to myself, but I hear my words tumble out regardless.

‘How many times are you going to send me into overdrive tonight, Jeremy? I can’t take it, it’s too much. I try to get my mind around one thing you are asking of me, leading me into, and wham, then comes the rush of another and another.’

I draw breath momentarily before continuing on my verbal rampage. ‘I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or even what I should say to you. This situation is too strange for me, unreal, surreal.’

I hear myself talking erratically, quickly, searching for words to account for the emotion that is threatening to totally overwhelm me.

‘I have no filters, Jeremy. You’ve taken them away, or maybe I’ve allowed them to be taken. I don’t know. Either way, it can’t be good. I’ve trained myself for too many years to give considered, thoughtful responses and now listen to me. I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or doing. Why are you putting me through this?’

Jeremy doesn’t answer, but I sense his closeness and know intuitively that he is staring at me intently. I take a moment to catch my breath and attempt to regain some form of composure. I feel like a child lost in the wilderness, not knowing who to trust or where to turn.

He places his arm around the small of my back, while holding my wrist and firmly steers me toward what I assume is the door of the penthouse. I hear the door open.

‘Oh no, please, Jeremy, let’s stay here. What’s the time, anyway? Isn’t it too late for dinner? I’m not really hungry, we’ve had hors d’oeuvres. Really, it would be such a waste …’

I ramble on, wedging my heels deep into the carpet, as I attempt to throw excuses in his unrelenting path.

‘We can’t possibly be seen in public, don’t you understand?’ I’m scrambling for words as he edges me closer to the door. ‘How could you even think about taking me out like this? I’m blindfolded for goodness’ sake and I have no knickers on!’

My heels wave the white flag as they surrender their grip on the floor and I catapult into his arms, and presumably out the door. I try to steady myself as best I can and he holds me firmly in his arms.

‘Where are we going anyway?’ I ask him, desperate for some form of verbal response. His silence is exasperating. He suddenly pushes me firmly against the wall, his face close to mine, his body pressing powerfully against the silkiness of my dress.

‘I know you have questions, Alexa, you always do. As I have told you, this weekend is not about your questions. I have been counting how many you have asked so far and I strongly advise that you stop, as there will be consequences for each one. Now behave yourself!’ he adds sternly. ‘I am taking you to dinner; you look beautiful and you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now, one more thing … as we are on my time this weekend, I never want you to ask the time again. Do you understand me?’ He is so close I am dizzy with his questions and demands. I am dumbfounded at the sharpness of his words as his heady presence and aroma invade every facet of my space.

‘Have-I-made-myself-clear?’ He emphasises each word purposefully. I am at a loss as to this change of mood, the darkened edge to his voice, so much so that I am astonishingly not willing to risk an offhand or flippant comment in response. It is too strange, the tension palpable. So I defiantly remain silent, considering this to be the safest strategy, even though his erection continues to swell intensely against my belly. He grabs my shoulders and spins me around, pushing my breasts deliberately against the wall and swiftly slaps my arse so hard I am left with a stinging sensation that I cannot remotely fathom. This is the last thing I expect from him. I’m horrified. He just spanked me! Blindfolded, in the corridor of a hotel. He spins me back around just as rapidly, seemingly to inspect the look of utter shock on my face as a result of his handiwork.

‘I asked you a question, Alexandra. Are we clear?’ he says in his stern, metallic voice. All I can utter is ‘Perfectly!’ my knickerless arse sizzling against the wall. This is something new; he has done a lot of things to me over the years but never anything like that.

‘Good. Let’s go.’ He takes hold of my elbow and steers me firmly down the corridor, my heels clattering against the hardened floor to keep pace with him. The sensation of being spanked is not something I am familiar with. I can’t remember the last time it was done to me, even in childhood. Robert had certainly never done anything like that. He was always serious in the bedroom — perfunctory, never playful. I realise then and there that Jeremy is the opposite of Robert — playful, unexpected and oh, how I’ve missed this unpredictability in my life. Even now, humiliated in a hotel corridor, though I feel out of control, at the same time adrenalin is pumping through me in a way I haven’t felt in years. I am truly alive.

I hear a ‘ding’ sound and the lift doors open as he guides me in. I take a deep breath and pray. Please don’t let us bump into anyone I know. Please, please, please! The doors close and Jeremy doesn’t skip a beat before his hands are stroking my thighs, coercing the softness between my legs to moisten further and become even more accommodating, which started the second his swift hand slapped my butt. An unexpected insight … how can I be in shock yet so highly aroused and horny at the same time? Jeremy knows each and every one of my sensitive spots as well as any doctor knows the anatomy of the human body, and he isn’t missing a single opportunity to use my body as his personal radar, testing and paying attention to the response, to great advantage.

It is such a weird sensation not being able to anticipate arousal; obviously visual stimulation plays a major role in this. Stranger still is having no true sense of what is coming next. Being so frustrated you could scream, then wham, one light, smooth stroke and your body roars into gear proactively endorsing the sting and the caress and leaving you begging for more. How does that work? The problem is, I’m not sure whether my body is betraying me deliberately or whether it knows my mind far more effectively than I could possibly imagine.

‘Please stop it, Jeremy. It is hard enough to focus on what’s going on, let alone having your hands distracting me at every opportunity.’

‘The whole idea of this weekend is that you don’t focus on anything, Alex.’

‘Well, it is just not possible,’ I say, exasperated.

The lift door opens and we step out as a rush of air blows my hair back. Jeremy is greeted. I feel the blood rushing to my face and am sure it is flushed.

‘Dr J, how wonderful you could join us this evening, it’s been too long.’

My legs quiver beneath me as Jeremy holds me securely upright.

‘Lovely to see you again, Leo.’

‘Let me show you to your table.’ I am chaperoned to a lounge seat where Jeremy settles me into position. I quickly cross my legs, given my lack of underwear and inwardly curse Jeremy for making me feel as uncomfortable as I ever have in my entire life.

Who is Leo anyway and why can I hear the faint hum of voices around me? I can feel my forehead developing minute droplets of perspiration as my anxiety rises at the unknown yet again. Why am I so on edge anyway? Relax, enjoy, I tell myself. Impossible, comes the response.

‘What will sir be drinking tonight?’

‘We will have two martinis, extra dry, stirred not shaken, with a twist.’

Jeremy’s response instantly surprises me. He has just ordered my perfect martini, even though I haven’t touched a martini in the past ten years. Unbelievable.

I try to keep myself calm enough to at least decipher my surroundings and congratulate myself on maintaining a few moments of self-control. I notice the carpet is thick and lush and the voices are very low; some nondescript music is meandering around the room. As the fact that we are not alone comes to mind once again, my apprehension gains momentum until Jeremy’s voice interrupts its predetermined destination.

‘I’m assuming you are happy to have a martini? That is the way you always liked them in Europe.’

‘A martini is the least of my problems.’ I try to calm my voice as much as possible. ‘How could you have brought me here with other people around? What if someone recognises us? I can’t believe you are compromising me like this. You are putting both of us at enormous personal and professional risk. How could you? It is totally unacceptable.’ My tension builds like a tsunami through my bloodstream. My heart pumps faster than it can reasonably handle, perspiration not cooling my body temperature as effectively as it should be. He has gone too far, this is not right. My hands are twisting and palms sliding with sweat on my lap. My breath short and shallow, I easily diagnose my state as an imminent anxiety attack. Jeremy cups my hands together.

‘Calm down, everything is fine. You are overreacting.’

Overreacting? My internal voice is incredulous. ‘Nothing is fine!’ I exclaim, control almost lost. I rein it in as best I can as I have no idea who is in the room, who these people are. Does it matter? Yes, it does, damn it. I answer myself. And no doubt Jeremy knows this, knows I will attempt to contain my emotions in public.

‘How could you put me in this situation, Jeremy? How dare you? Who are these people?’

I feel vulnerable, alone and completely out of control. My body trembles as it experiences the invading cocktail of emotions. This is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be, and I’m a little disappointed in myself for not handling it more professionally. But what is professional about being at dinner with a frigging blindfold on? Goodness knows what they are thinking, seeing a blindfolded woman arguing with one of the country’s, make that the world’s most renowned medical researchers. Or maybe this just happens to be ‘Blindfold Friday’ at the InterContinential — as if!

Suddenly, a moment of complete clarity and confidence sweeps through me. I realise I am in control. I still have legs that can walk, hands that can at least remove the suffocating blindfold that may enable some form of blurred, dark vision, and a voice to say ‘No!’ — the one thing I have never, ever been able to say to Jeremy. If luck is on my side, I may even be able to engage some innocent bystander to help me escape from this outrageous situation. As I let these thoughts rapidly flow through my body, I suddenly feel empowered to act.

‘I can’t do this, Jeremy. I know you were hoping that I could, and I have tried, but I can’t. I’m sorry I promised you, but it was a stupid mistake. This situation is proving impossible for me to manage.’ At these words, I stand up and raise my hands to remove my blindfold and be free of the embarrassment and submission it causes me. Just as my fingertips touch the silky layer, Jeremy launches himself over my body sending me flying back into the lounge seat. He grabs my hands and roughly pins them behind my back. With his legs now straddling mine, I am anchored to the seat and breathless at the suddenness of his plunge. The emotion between us is sizzling hot. He secures his grip around my wrists and ensures I literally can’t move from under his physical presence.

‘You will do this, you promised me, you consented and you haven’t even given yourself time to adapt. You don’t need to manage or control anything. That’s your problem and until you stop trying you will be feeling like you do now. Let me be very clear — I will go to any extreme to ensure you keep your promise. I want you like this, Alex, and I won’t let anything stand in my way, including your insecurities.’ His voice is low, demanding, unrelenting. I can feel his muscles surrounding my legs, my thighs; I can feel his excitement swelling above me. My god! Now I can feel my own in response. How does he do this? He wants me, and how long has it been since I’ve heard that? Since forever, it seems. And I want him, but like this? And what about my insecurities?

Dumbfounded, I squirm ineffectively beneath him.

‘You will have your chance to remove the blindfold when we have been together forty-eight hours. You are not touching it, nor are you going anywhere.’ There is an irrevocable determination in his voice that is unyielding and compellingly X-rated. God, what happened to the empowerment I felt only moments ago? No eyes to see, no legs to walk, no hands to move. He really is taking every bit of control away from me and his physical response clearly tells me he loves it. And apparently so do I.

‘Well, you are certainly using over-the-top measures to ensure that I don’t.’ I acknowledge for his benefit that I can barely move. Even as I question why I am secretly thrilled that he is going to such extremes, my arousal skyrockets with each passing second.

‘Trust me, Alex, the fun is yet to begin and I know you will love it if you just give yourself the opportunity to embrace it.’

Is he my therapist now? I decide that struggling is futile, as it just seems to strengthen his resolve further both figuratively and physically; he tightens his hold on both my wrists and thighs. My brainstorming mind clicks into gear weighing up potential options. As if sensing my thoughts he states calmly, ‘Don’t fight me on this, AB, you will lose.’

Just as I’m about to speak Jeremy’s mouth comes hard against mine with his tongue forcing its way through my lips, probing my tongue, invading my throat, harder and faster as I am pinned beneath him. He smothers my face, leaving me literally gasping for air. His power is a carnal force that my body has no urge to reject.

‘You are mine for the weekend. Stop fighting so hard, you are wasting precious energy that could be put to much more effective use.’ His voice is laden with suggestive undertones. ‘God, you look absolutely irresistible. Shame we have company or I swear I would take you right here, making the most of the access under your dress.’

I am left melting beneath him; the hot, pulsing ache in my groin ensuring I am breathless and wanton.

‘So beautiful, but she does struggle so …’ he reflects, and for a long moment his palms cup my chin and cheeks as he straddles my body. I feel his erection harden against my thigh. He releases a long sigh as I anxiously await his next move.

‘You leave me no choice. Leo, please cuff her.’

‘Certainly, sir, right away.’

Jeremy pulls my shoulders toward his body and slides his hands down my arms to my elbows ensuring they don’t bend as they are anchored behind me. Leo, whoever he is, quickly straps something that feels like padded handcuffs around my wrists and clasps them together in record time.

I am left gasping, speechless, bound and blind as Jeremy secures the blindfold back into position. What on earth is going on here? This isn’t just some university prank that we can laugh about together. Jeremy said he would go to virtually any length to make this happen. Why? My thoughts are pulsating in my brain in tandem with my heart, trying to decipher what has just happened to me. I can feel the intensity of the energy in the room as if it is pumping through the air. What is driving him to be so dominating? What exactly am I missing?

‘I’d forgotten just how very stubborn you are. It’s quite astonishing.’ The old Jeremy is back, having a normal conversation with me. Unbelievable.

‘Stubborn,’ I shriek, emotion still overwhelming my muscles, my voice. ‘How can you …’

‘Please, keep your voice down. I won’t be able to feed you with a gag in your mouth,’ he states calmly.

‘You wouldn’t dare —’

He cuts me off immediately. ‘I’ve come this far, my love. You know I would. The sooner you surrender yourself to me, the more freedom you will experience,’ he whispers as if we are co-conspirators. What does he mean by that?

I shuffle around on the seat while trying to fully absorb the reality of my wrists being bound behind me. Although we have had an exploratory sexual past, Jeremy has never taken things this far before. There has never been this urgency, this underlying non-negotiable tone. I recognise now that perhaps I am in well and truly over my head. I just don’t understand what is driving this situation, and why …

One minute I feel so close to him, in every way. The next minute I have to wonder if I know him at all. I am a mother for god’s sake; how the hell did I let myself get into this situation? What if I really can’t get out of it, now that I’m here? Is he joking, playing? Is he testing me? Pushing me to the limit? If so, it is working. I am confused and panicked, and contradictorily and frustratingly, extremely bloody aroused.

***

‘Now, let’s not waste these martinis.’

Jeremy holds my chin upwards and carefully slides the cold liquid into my mouth. I don’t speak to him; I honestly don’t know what to say. I can barely move. I am petrified of going against his wishes after what has just happened, which is no doubt exactly what he intended, so I sit in silence, like a mannequin. It’s as if every cell in my body is electrified, awaiting his next move, on high alert. It’s strangely invigorating. I can feel his stare attempting to penetrate my thoughts. I try to calm my breath, my emotions, my thoughts … I fail. More silky liquid finds my tongue and slides down my throat. I don’t encourage it. I don’t prevent it. I’m frozen with some sort of fear of the unknown that I can’t define; it’s exciting and tantalising even though I feel utterly vulnerable with only Jeremy to rely on. What choice do I have, but to temporarily accept this bizarre sequence of events without protest or complaint? However, in accepting this fate I am also forced to concede that I have never felt more special or cherished by anyone in my life.

Presumably we have finished our martinis because I am guided to a standing position. Jeremy slips his arm around my waist through my bound arms. We walk away without words. Suddenly, my feet are swept out from beneath me and Jeremy carries me easily up some stairs. It makes me feel very small, even more fragile and dependent, when he can scoop my body up so effortlessly. I have no physical defence against him and my emotional ones are being systematically infiltrated. I have never relied on someone so completely. I am usually so self-sufficient and this gesture of complete possession makes me quite literally go weak at the knees.

I hear a door open and feel a flood of fresh air surround me. He lowers me directly into a chair. I can hear the noise of the city below and feel the warm humid air on my skin. I imagine the evening is as beautiful as the day was earlier. It feels good to be out of the tense energy of that room. My entire body shudders with relief at this new environment and sense of space around me.

‘Are you cold?’ He is obviously watching me as intently as I had supposed he was. Before I can stop myself, I shake my head, acknowledging his question. So much for ignoring him. I continue to sit as still and straight as possible. I sense that he continues his attempt to decipher my every mood and reaction.

‘Would you like some music, or would you prefer to sit in silence?’ He always had a knack for procuring an answer other than yes or no. I sigh inwardly but don’t answer him. This is his game, his rules, so I assume he will decide.

‘Music it is, then.’

Some light, mellow jazz music instantly commences at the end of his words. I am surprised — the music sounds live and I tilt my head in the direction of the sound. The music is smooth and melodic, vaguely familiar although I can’t quite place it at this stage. A light aroma teases my olfactory sense and I pause to consider its identity. I can detect wonderfully fresh coriander, chilli, some ginger, perhaps sesame oil. I realise Jeremy is allowing me to smell and absorb one of my favourite Thai dishes. He raises it carefully to my lips, teasing me a little. I let him play his silly games.

‘God, you look so gorgeous sitting here, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so stubborn. The night is spectacular, let me describe it for you. There is a full moon rising from the east, looking magnificent, not a cloud in the sky. The city lights are shining neon everywhere around us. We’re on the rooftop of the hotel, and we are the only guests here, so you don’t need to worry about anyone recognising us. The table has been set simply but is sophisticated, like you. I have ordered your favourite foods, your favourite wine, your favourite music. We are finally able to share these things in style with no expense spared. Alexa, I have longed for this moment with you and it is even more perfect in reality. I have you all to myself. You sitting there so still, bound and blind, being so brave, it is just melting my heart. I would release your wrists, but the vision of you sitting before me like this is giving me such a surprising hard on, I am selfishly savouring the moment a little longer.’

His words leave me speechless, my body responding as it would to his touch. I hear music floating around my ears.

‘May I have this dance?’ It appears to be a rhetorical question as I am escorted to my feet. He releases my wrists from behind my back only to refasten them together around his neck. It seems as if I’ll be dancing regardless. Does he honestly think I’m going to run away from a high-rise rooftop when I’m blind? The thought flitters flippantly through my mind … My brain finally recognises the riff that has been playing since our arrival. His hips start to move, I clumsily move with him, I don’t have much choice. He holds me close to him until we gain some form of synchronicity. He places my head on his shoulder and I can feel the smooth fibres of his shirt and, behind that, the heat from his chest. I’m intrigued by the specific choice of the song. I don’t resist the rhythm of his body. I inhale. I exhale. Words float into the music that he knows I love.

The saxophone, guitar, drums and percussion caress away the anxiety I experienced before, and I effortlessly glide in his arms as he leads me confidently around the dance floor. Jeremy carefully and skilfully dissolves my tension until I am literally melting into his arms. His touch is exquisite, not too much, not too little. The sexual chemistry cascading over our bodies is once again impossible to ignore.

We dance, we eat, we drink, we talk, we kiss, we laugh.

I am blind but no longer bound.

I allow myself to compartmentalise any fear I felt downstairs into a distant, shrunken corner of my mind. Maybe tonight is as much for him as it is for me, maybe it is about us, I don’t know. Finally the scales tip and I can say I am here now more by choice, rather than force. After feeding me dessert, an extravaganza of taste sensations: smooth, silky chocolate ganache, with a hint of something — orange perhaps or some other citrus — in crisp, buttery pastry, accompanied by a sticky dessert wine that leaves my tongue thick in my mouth. I am floating on air.

‘Alex, would you sing for me, while we have the band still with us?’

I smile at his question. ‘It’s been years since I have sung anything.’

‘Please, it is only us. Any song you choose. There is a guitar here for you.’

Jeremy used to love listening to my girlfriend Amy and I jam together on rainy Sunday afternoons. I was embarrassed at first but we became used to his presence on these occasions. Even though I have consumed a considerable amount of alcohol since my arrival, I’m surprised that I feel only a little tipsy, not drunk. Perhaps more hours have passed than I realise, or the degree of sheer emotion and nervous energy scorching through my body has burned off the alcohol. The idea of doing something I haven’t done for years suddenly appeals to me.

‘Why not? Just one song.’

He sounds surprised and excited that I agree so readily. I want to keep the mood this way rather than revert back to my previous antagonism. I think of the words of the songs we have just been dancing to and wonder what our relationship is really about, what it means to him? I remember a song we sang and which he used to love to accompany us with improvised percussion on saucepan lids. It was about best friends and was always special between us. Jeremy assists me with the guitar and I ask him to leave me with the band.

‘I’ll wait by the table. Enjoy!’ he encourages, as he kisses me on the cheek. It takes me a little while to get comfortable with the guitar and establish the right key. My fingertips have softened over the years from lack of playing; the strings feel raw and hard against them as I adjust to the sensation and slide my hand along the neck of the guitar. I have to go on feel rather than sight but thankfully I know the words and chords by heart. I begin …

A tear trickles out of my left eye as I finish the song to resounding applause from the band. It felt incredible, to sing again, to play, to do something I thought I’d forgotten. I loved it! I’m euphoric as I blindly thank the band for the opportunity and they help me to put the guitar down. I can’t help but consider I would never have done this if I could see … As I stand up Jeremy swoops in to give me an all-encompassing hug.

‘That was fantastic. You were amazing!’ He pauses. ‘Is that emotion I detect on your cheek, Dr Blake?’

‘I think I found my voice again.’ I wonder why I use these words.

Another drop of emotion finds its way from my eye to my cheek. I can’t understand why I am feeling this way but singing and playing somehow strikes a chord in me, one that hasn’t been accessed for many years. I remember reading once that it was important to understand where your tears come from as they have a direct connection to your heart.

What is he doing to me? Another layer removed.

Jeremy lowers his lips to mine and before I can say anything, he kisses me so exquisitely and delicately, the effect so heavenly, that the feeling and memory will be etched in my psyche forever.

***

Our night on the rooftop comes to a close as I hear the members of the band pack up and say their goodbyes. I feel like I have been on a roller-coaster from the second I arrived in the hotel foyer. I have never experienced such intense emotions in such a whirlwind period of time. I wallow in the sensation of the warm, gentle breeze and relax in Jeremy’s arms. To be honest, I feel exhausted fighting him and exhilarated being so close to him. Maybe I should just let go, like he wants me to. What would be the worst that could happen? He’d never put our professional reputations at risk, it means too much to him. And apart from that, I want to be with Jeremy. Mother, woman, wife, academic, all parts of me want Jeremy, have always wanted him if I’m completely honest with myself, and my body certainly requires no rationalisation. I desperately want to prolong the perfection of the moment we are sharing.

I am considerably calmer now. The ambience of the music, the singing, dancing, dining, kissing, and maybe even the darkness — though I’d never dare admit it — is simply intoxicating, like floating on air. I feel a warm, light energy within me, a sparkling essence that I don’t believe I have experienced before. It is an unnatural sensation for me, though I happily absorb its presence.

‘What are you thinking right now?’ Jeremy asks as he plays with my hands and lightly places his thumb over my bottom lip. I can tell he is in a playful mood.

I answer him directly. ‘I’m thinking I want you, right now.’

‘Oh, really?’ He laughs. ‘And do you think you can have me?’

‘Mmm, yes, actually I do, now that I have my hands back.’

I find his belt and unbuckle it, quickly undoing his fly and sliding his trousers down over his firm, round butt cheeks.

‘Do you need any assistance?’

‘I may not be able to see, Jeremy, but I know what I’m looking for.’

I sense his smile as I feel the considerable bulge rising from inside his underpants. I play a little before removing the obstacle they present. My palms longingly stroke the flesh of his cock, my fingers desperate to knead his balls. He groans in unison with my touch.

‘You still like it like this, after all these years?’ I inquire.

‘Some things never change.’

I lower myself to my knees, continue fondling his balls while firming my grip on the base of his penis and ever so gently dart my tongue back and forth on his tip, eliciting a slick of salty juice that casually cascades over his rim, and pause. His hands have caressed my hair until this point; now he firmly holds my head — for balance? From need? I steady myself with my palms gripping his firm, muscled buttocks and I continue to tease, taking a little more of him in my mouth, stroke by stroke. My tongue loses its focus and becomes hungry for him. My mouth is all-encompassing, his length teases the back of my throat and I readily welcome him in, his smooth, hard cock filling my mouth as I take him deeper and deeper.

I love doing this to him and I can’t deny the burning flame it ignites between my thighs as I continue to suck, now long, deep and strong. Jeremy groans loudly and I know he is close, nearly there. I ease off a little, playing, revelling in his need for me, before thrusting him wholly into the back of my throat and wrapping my lips around his base. I feel the throbbing before the explosion that almost comes into my mouth. At the last second, I pull my mouth away, still maintaining my grip on his balls. He convulses at his climax, while his liquid must be landing somewhere over my shoulder. I remain kneeling until he recovers and returns to reality and lightly kiss his tip before standing, licking the remaining residue. His breathing is heavy, uneven.

‘Why do you always pull out at the last minute? I would love you to swallow.’

‘You know I don’t like it.’

‘Have you ever tried?’

‘Not exactly, and I’m not planning to.’

‘So it’s not just me.’

‘No, not just you, Jeremy. It’s just not something I do.’

‘But it feels so unbelievable when you do everything else. It would be heaven if you swallowed.’ Ah, here is an opportunity; I wonder whether he is willing to negotiate.

‘Would you give me my vision back, if I said I’d swallow?’ I tease.

‘Ah, as tempting as that would be … well, let’s just say I’m loving you blind.’

‘Well, here we have an impasse,’ I conclude.

He kisses my mouth, long and deep as his hand creeps underneath my dress, finding and fondling my inner lips. His fingers begin to explore, to probe. I sigh, ensuring my hands are entwined around his neck, trying to resist the temptation to join him.

His fingers continue their magic and my legs loosen their grip and stability on the rooftop. ‘You will take me wholly and completely that way one day,’ he states with confidence.

‘We’ll have to see about that,’ I retort while sighing, attempting to stay upright.

‘Indeed we will.’ He laughs, as he eases his fingers from their mission and once again scoops me off my feet and carries me back to the room.

My dress is discarded before I register its removal and his fingers resume their conquest with greater intensity than where they left off on the rooftop. Jeremy’s skill and precision is even more highly tuned than I recollect. Every shred of concentration leaves my mind and my moans echo within the silence of the room. As my brain has exhausted itself in its attempts to grasp the reality of the past few hours, my body greedily embraces the physical experience on offer. Eventually, I fall asleep, warmly snuggling into Jeremy’s embrace. A deep, calm, strangely gratifying sleep.

***

There is a strange sensation on my feet. I try to push it away, dream it away, but it is like an itch I can’t get rid of. What is it? Someone? Something? I roll over trying to ignore whatever it is but this persistent tinkering with my feet is relentless.

Damn it, it’s still there … a finger?

No, too hard.

A brush? No.

A feather perhaps? Possibly.

These silly thoughts are making me lose my slumber. It is still dark so no need to wake up yet. I try kicking it away this time, ah yes, that works. I settle back into the gorgeous softness of the bed, crisp sheets and feathery pillow. Although, very different from my own. The thought makes my mind consider where I am. No, I think, as weird memories flood my mind, it must have been a really, really bizarre dream … My hand reaches out, wondering whether I will confirm a presence on the bed next to me. Nothing. No one. I have no idea how long I have been sleeping when suddenly it hits me. Where I am and who I’m with.

Reality strikes. I try to prise open my eyes, momentarily forgetting my current situation and hesitate before touching the blindfold, the memory of the same action from last night and the repercussions that followed preventing me from doing so. This was no dream and from what I understand, for me at least, it will be dark both night and day.

The persistent aggravation at my feet recommences, meandering its way past my ankles, along my lower leg, and toward my knee. A very ticklish spot for me, it has always been intolerable to be tickled there. I sit up, fully alert.

‘Hello there.’ Jeremy’s voice. Definitely not a dream.

I laugh nervously. ‘Hello there. How long have I been asleep?’

‘You ask a question in the first seconds of waking up. Be a good girl for me, Alex. No questions. Please just lie back down and keep quiet.’

I obey. I don’t want to argue. I feel the sheet being whisked off the bed, as I lie there, exposed, naked. The feathers continue their journey, making me squirm as they tease their way past my bellybutton to my nipples. I don’t need to see them to know how instantly they respond to this ticklish touch.

‘My body betrays me so easily,’ I whisper almost to myself.

‘It always has; when will you start listening to it?’

I ponder the question.

‘Please raise your arms above your head and keep them there.’ I do what I am told, his direct instructions for some reason becoming easier to follow as my mind flitters off on other tangents. The feathers play with my arms, my face, my neck. Being blindfolded, naked, and having feathers gently and carefully caressing my body without any idea as to where they could land is like nothing I have ever experienced. Their lightness is like butterflies fluttering in a gentle breeze, barely touching my skin, and the ever-so-mild sensation they deliver on contact sends shivers and goosebumps all over my body.

‘Please part your legs,’ Jeremy orders politely. Whether it is years of defensive or protective sexual behaviour I’m not sure, but these words immediately cause my legs to press firmly together and my hands lower themselves from above my head to cover my pubis.

‘Interesting …’ Jeremy murmurs. The feathers stop their crusade and nothing else is said. I can feel him waiting for my next reaction. My arms slowly return to their original position above my head.

Continued silence. My vulva pulses with so much anticipation I am scared to part my legs in case the throbbing looks as obvious to him as it feels to me. As if it wouldn’t be, I reprimand myself.

‘I’ll ask one more time, please open your legs.’

I sigh, embarrassed but enormously aroused. I slowly inch my thighs apart.

‘Further, please.’ His voice is adamant. God, he really has to make a point of things. I bend my knees as I open wider for him, the throbbing within me deepening with anticipation. I try not to move as the tickling recommences, but it is exceptionally difficult. I begin to wriggle and squirm, attempting to anticipate his next focus point on my body. An impossible task, but I manage to maintain my overall position as best I can. The tickling is insistent, teasing, yet so light, almost caressing, but not quite. My body yearns for more, longing for Jeremy’s touch. In all this time his skin never touches my body, not once. I am literally craving him. My breath grows shallow. How much longer can he keep this going? I can’t stand it. I need more pressure, more something, anything. I can’t help but lower my hands to my breasts as my back arches with the continuing sensation. I am hungry for him to be inside me, desperate for his physical touch. His patience is beyond what my body can bear and he knows it. He always loved testing my limits, pushing my boundaries further than I ever thought possible.

‘Jeremy.’ I call his name as I reach out for him.

‘Patience, sweetheart, patience. Until you lie completely still and do exactly as I ask, this will continue and relief will elude you. The more disciplined you are, the greater the reward.’

‘Oh, god,’ I groan, knowing all too well he is completely serious. His ability to tease, tickle and torment every inch of my body has been tried and tested on many occasions throughout our history. I sigh in utter frustration. I am too far gone to say no and he knows only too well I am craving release. I summon all my ‘inner zen’ to lie still, in the position he wants me in and accept the relentless torment without further protest or complaint. I try to count backwards from 100 and lose count as I arrive rapidly at eighty-nine, unable to focus my mind.

I squirm.

He stops.

I lie still.

He recommences feather warfare. I am frantic for his touch while attempting to maintain this position for him.

He is relentless, disciplined and patient.

I am not.

When I’m saturated with frustration and desire, his body suddenly slams on top of me, spearing his throbbing penis into my vagina so completely I cannot withhold the scream that escapes my lungs. My legs are spread far and wide as he penetrates deeper layers, sparing no force as he pins my arms above my head. He thrusts and thrusts, it is hard and it is fast and it is exactly what I need. My back arches at the force of him, flinging back my head. I feel winded without the dreadful pain. My lubricated vagina hungrily absorbs his entry as he explodes inside me.

Apparently his patience had finally reached its limit. Thank heavens!

He collapses on top of me, his weight smothering me into the mattress. We are speechless as we both pant for more oxygen. My tingles below return, deep longing in the base of my belly. This sensation began in the bath and will no doubt stay with me for some time. He snuggles into my neck.

‘That was unbelievable. I’ve never woken up like that in my life.’

‘Likewise,’ he agrees, kissing, almost eating, my neck.

‘Please don’t make me wait that long again. You almost sent me over the edge.’

He continues devouring my neck hungrily with his lips and tongue before admitting a dire truth. ‘I’m certainly never going to promise you that, sweetheart.’

I groan. Again.

‘You must be starving. Let’s eat!’

I can honestly say my body has never felt more alive. I have not been this sexed up since my early twenties but this is so much more than it ever was then. How we still have it in us, I don’t know. My lips above want to smile. My lips below are buzzing with greed and anticipation. I can feel sexual energy pulsing through my veins, in my blood. It is the weirdest sensation, sated yet hungry for more. What is happening to me? Can it really be the lack of visual stimulation enabling me to feel so much more than usual, or is it the result of the emotional roller-coaster Jeremy has carefully crafted since my arrival? It’s as if he is awakening sexual cravings that have been lying dormant within me for years, just waiting to be ignited. I can only conclude it must be the combination of all the above as my ability to conduct further analysis at this stage is without a doubt, defunct. I can’t help but ruminate on the irony that my attempts to connect with my analytical mind for research purposes are being constantly annihilated by wave after wave of Jeremy-created sensation.

Jeremy orders almost everything he can think of from the room service menu. We chat and we laugh and we caress and it doesn’t seem so weird that I’m wearing a blindfold. His voice is so reassuring and familiar that I almost feel totally at ease. The food arrives and we finally eat. I am ravenous.

‘Are you still hungry?’ he inquires as he places another strawberry in my mouth.

‘I honestly can’t get enough of these, they’re addictive. There is something about fresh strawberries and five-star hotels. It’s like they are designer made, perfect …’

‘Well there is only one left. Here, you have it.’ He places it in my mouth and then suddenly withdraws it.

‘On second thoughts, you have probably had your share. I might keep this one for myself.’ He loosens my robe and I feel the strawberry circle my nipples. It travels past my bellybutton before teasing my opening. I feel the juicy fruit enticing my vulva.

‘I think this one would like to play hide and seek.’

I whimper as his tongue commences seeking.