‘Hold onto the chair,’ he says, and bends her over.  He puts a hand on her back at waist level and pushes down, so her hips are angled, her sex is more exposed. She hears his zip and the soft sound of his trousers dropping.  Putting his palm on either side of her face he turns her head and makes her watch what he is doing to her.

‘I want you to watch me fucking you.’

With wild eyes she looks at the image their bodies make as he grabs her by the hips and his proud cock disappears inside her.

‘Now, let me hear your cries.  Purr for me, Lana,’ he commands and rams ferociously into her willing, dripping wetness.

She cries out with the sensations.  The fullness, the depths that he has gone into.

It is surprisingly painful, but such is her need to have him inside that she welcomes the pain and pushes against him to take more of him.  So he goes even deeper, until his thick shaft is buried all the way to the root.  One hand falls on her back, pushing her into the armchair, while the other grasps her shoulder.  The solid armchair rocks with his thrusts.  Then the animal in him takes over.  With bestial urgency he drives into her.  Harder and faster.  Grinding her against him.  At that moment she is utterly possessed by the man.  His to do anything with.

As he slams into her she realizes that the palm of his hand that is pressed against her pubic bone is bringing forth different sensations.  The rubbing is causing her to come again.  It is explosive this time, makes her body convulse uncontrollably and lasts, even through his last urgent thrusts and his groan of release.

She feels his body slacken against hers.  With both his arms around her waist he straightens her, and holds her close to him while he is still inside.  She looks at him in the mirror and finds his eyes unreadable.  He withdraws out of her and goes into the bathroom.

She looks in the mirror.  Without him in the mirror she seems alone and abandoned.  On trembling legs she moves to hide her nakedness inside the bathrobe.

Nineteen

Lana is so anxious she forgets to warn him of her mother’s wasted appearance.  It is only when her mother opens the door in her best blue dress, a new blue scarf, and smiling through freshly applied lipstick that she remembers.  But when she looks up at Blake he is smiling and suave.  He hands her mother the bouquet of flowers he has brought for her and steps through the door into their poor home.

‘Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Bloom.  It is a great pleasure to finally meet you.’

‘Nice to meet you too, Mr. Barrington.’

‘Please, you must call me Blake.’

‘And you must call me Nys.’

‘Nys?  Ah…French.’

‘Yes, not many people know that.  My mother loved the sound of it.’

‘I agree with her.  A pretty name it is.’

‘Come in, come in,’ Lana’s mother says..

Blake takes Lana’s hand.  She is surprised at how casually he does it.  As if he has done it many times before.  Her mother has decorated the table with fresh flowers and candles.  The door to the small balcony is open and the sound of children swearing floats up.  Her mother closes the door and puts on some music instead.

‘Something smells very good,’ Blake says.

Her mother glows with pleasure.  It is obvious she is taken with Blake.  ‘Oh, it’s just chicken and rice. A Persian recipe.’

‘With fruit.’

‘Yes, pomegranates.  How did you know?’

And so the night goes with her mother glowing and charmed and Blake urbane and genteel.

When the food appears it is delicious, and Blake makes it a point to polish his plate.  Occasionally, he looks with adoring eyes at Lana, and other times reaches for her hand, never too obvious, and so real it makes her freeze uncomfortably.  Once he even reaches forward and lightly brushes his lips against hers.  She blinks.  Another time he looks mockingly into her eyes.  She turns away in confusion.  This Blake she cannot understand or deal with.  This Blake is dangerous to her well-being.  This Blake she will want to keep beyond the three months stipulation.

Her mother serves a chocolate melt in the middle pudding.

Again, Blake makes it a point to finish every last drop.

When her mother offers Blake a strong, Middle Eastern coffee, he immediately accepts.

There is only one uncomfortable moment in the evening when her mother turns to Blake and asks, ‘Have you ever done anything that you wish you could go back and undo?  Something you regret?’

‘No,’ Blake says easily.

Her mother turns to her.  ‘What about you, Lana?’

Lana looks her mother in the eye.  ‘Absolutely not.’

They sit in the back of the Bentley with Peter driving.

‘How is it you know so much about Persian history?’

‘It was part of our school curriculum.’

‘I don’t remember learning anything like that in school.’

‘That is because you were right in what you said yesterday.  My education has been designed to make me a leader, and yours to turn you into an obedient worker.  It is how a capitalist system works.  No country can be successful without its workers.’

‘Is it right?’

Blake turns away from her and stares out of the window.

For a while neither speak, then Blake turns towards her.  ‘You needed the money for her, didn’t you?’

‘To send her to America for treatment.  She leaves tomorrow.’

‘Where is she going?’

‘The Burzynsky Research Center.’

‘I have heard of Dr. Burzynsky.  The FDA have taken him to court a few times and not been able to indict him.  A good sign for your mother.’  In the dark his eyes stare at her with an expression she cannot comprehend.

When they reach the apartment, Blake drops the key onto the side table. ‘Want a nightcap?’

‘OK.’

They go into the living room with its low lights.  ‘What will you have?’

‘Baileys.’

She goes to the long sofa and watches him pour her drink, drop some ice cubes into it, and then pour himself a finger of Scotch.  He holds her drink out to her.  She takes it and he eases himself beside her.

‘Would you like to go shopping with Fleur again tomorrow?’

‘No.’

He turns to look at her.  ‘Why not?’

She shrugs.  ‘I’ve still got things I haven’t worn yet.  Besides, I’d like to spend some time with my mum before she leaves in the evening.’

He nods.  ‘What kind of cancer?’

‘It is in her lungs, liver, femur bone and pelvis.’

There is a flash of something in his eyes.  He does not believe her mother will make it.  He drops his eyes to his drink.  He takes a sip, puts it down on the glass table.

‘Come here,’ he says.

She scoots closer, but he lifts her bodily by the waist while she squeals, and puts her so she is sitting astride him.  Her pussy comes in contact with the bulge in his trousers.  She stops laughing.  She can feel herself becoming wet.  She bends forward and runs her tongue along his ear.  When she reaches his earlobe she takes it between her teeth.

‘Hey,’ he says and pulls her away from him.

She looks at him surprised.

‘Where did that come from?’ he asks.

‘My best friend Billie taught me the technique, but I probably did it wrong.  Did I bite too hard or something?’

‘Or something.’  He rubs her plump lower lip absently.  ‘I can’t believe an innocent like you still exists,’ he says.  Then he lifts his eyes to hers.  ‘Here, let me show you a much more useful technique,’ and that night he unzips his trousers and teaches her how to take his silky cock entwined by its two angry green veins and pleasure him with her mouth.

She awakens in the dark and knows immediately that she is not alone. For the first time, he has stayed the night with her.  She feels the heat from his body and hears his deep, even breathing.  Carefully, she eases her body away from his and as silently as possible gropes across the surface of her bedside table.  She finds the remote control and switches on the bathroom light.