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“Are you sore?” asked Jason abruptly.
“I’m quite recovered from last night, thank you for asking,” I chirped back Jason. He looked pleased with himself and we both smiled with our collective memories of last night.
“Tell me about your parents.” I changed the topic of conversation to less dangerous territory.
“Dad is a lawyer.” Jason stared ahead.
“OK like father like son then?” I chipped in.
“Not quite, dad is a barrister, I’m not. He’s good at it and well-respected. Mum is a private music teacher.”
“Ah, explains you’re musical knowledge.” Remembering our first date. “I don’t recall seeing any musical instruments in the house?” I was intrigued.
“I played the guitar. It is probably in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I sang in choirs too. I gather I have a fine tenor range. Hard to imagine, yes?” he cocked his head at me and then returned to watching the road ahead.
“Soprano, though I never progressed beyond the university choir.” I thought of those long rehearsals, followed by even longer drinking sessions and my fling with a tenor. There was a definite need to change the topic. “What about the rest of your family?”
“Oh I’m sure mum and dad will regale you with my siblings’ achievements, ever the proud parents,” he stopped talking.
I knew the conversation was over and the reason was undisclosed. I could not imagine his parents being disappointed in Jason’s achievements. What more did they want from him?
The lunch was a great success. Jason’s parents were charming and quite the typical affluent couple, living in their substantial five bedroom house, set amongst fields in a quintessential English village. We sat in the dining room, looking out over the immaculate lawn and flowerbeds. Jason chatted comfortably with his dad, discussing markets and takeovers. The grey haired Mr Lucas senior was far more knowledgeable about Jason’s business than I would have thought given their apparent minimal communication by telephone.
His tall, lean father exhibited the same straight nose and chiselled features that made Jason such a handsome man. The blue eyes came from his mother though. She was poised, well-spoken and did everything with a neatness that made me feel slovenly. Her polish was probably what Jason tried to have me emulate when he criticised my posture or deportment.
Nevertheless, I did not feel inadequate, as I sat next to her at the dining table, because behind the façade of prim and proper was a friendly person. Hidden and tucked away, I eked it out with my own charming disposition. It was like talking to Jason all over again. She moved the conversation strategically about her like a chess piece on a board and while Jason and his father stuck to a minimal number of topics, I found his mum was varied in her tastes. I slipped into easy conversation and the common ground naturally was music and my interest in choral works. I held my ground well against her more extensive understanding of the repertoire and kept up a good flow of conversation.
When his parents enquired about me, I maintain the dutiful line of talking about my love of art, my experiences as an analyst and my family - all safe territory. Only one uncomfortable moment transpired when his mum asked how we met. I gave the photocopier encounter, which was the truth, and there was nothing awkward about the scenario. She referred to Jason’s solitude and work focused lifestyle, then she mentioned his lack of girlfriends. He did not blush or look embarrassed by her remark but he did not fill in the missing details, it was obvious the conversation had occurred before in the past. I could not help smiling at the knowledge I was far more aware of their son’s sexual preferences and personality traits then they could ever imagine.
“Lucky for me then,” I said. “Having Jason single and free was my fortune.”
His father scowled fractionally at the word ‘fortune’ and I bit my lip wondering if he thought I was after Jason’s wealth. Not once had the idea crossed my mind, but how did I tell them it was Jason’s dominance and control over me that was the attraction for me and not his millions.
Jason looked increasingly relaxed, as we sat in the living room watching the sunset in the late afternoon. The tension he had held back in the car seemed to have lifted and gone away. I must have hit the right note with his parents, or perhaps because they had not broached the topic of his long-term intentions toward me. They were content to see him in the company of a woman and nothing else.
We took our leave and I was allowed to give them a quick peck on the cheek. Jason looked relieved we were going home and that everything had gone smoothly. In the car, I snuggled down in my seat and I dozed off for the duration. The concentration of impressing his parents had worn me out.
He pulled up at the front door and left the car abandoned as if in his haste he could not be bothered to park it in the garage. Kicking my shoes off in the hallway, I heard a huge sigh from Jason. Making me jump, he grabbed me from behind and pushed me against the wall, spinning me around to face him. He leant down and took my mouth in his, kissing hard, almost suffocating me. I was taken aback by his keenness. His hand lifted my dress skirt up and yanked down my knickers. He cupped my sex and rubbed me vigorously with the palm of his hand. I gasped and parted my legs wider for him, inviting him in. His zipper down and prominent erection exposed, he thrust up into me in one sharp movement. I winced, unprepared for the extent of his desire to have me.
“Gemma, Gemma. I’ve wanted to fuck you all day. You. Beautiful. Girl.” His thrusts were becoming quicker and reaching further inside me.
He had never taken me so unexpectedly before now. Yes, he could creep up on me and start to nuzzle with his lips but he did not go straight to fucking me. Usually I was given the chance to warm up, become aroused and prepared for him. I was expected to be available to him but even with that proviso, I could not be wet for him without a hint or notification of intentions. Psychological I was willing but physically I was not there for him. Some kind of warning was required to let my libido ramp up and be ready for him. Regardless of my state, I would not deny him. It was the nature of our agreement and how my submission functioned - to be there for him.
The real issue was I hated being fucked up against a wall. I had never declared it even as a soft limit, it was a simple personal dislike. I gripped his shoulders tightly, wrapping a leg around his waist to accommodate him better and he had practically lifted me off my feet. I shut my eyes tight, gritted my teeth. This was about him and only him, there was no room for my needs in this frantic activity. He cried aloud and long as he emptied his lust in me. I was not ready to join him, too stunned by his sudden onslaught. Panting heavily he withdrew and propped against me, catching his breath.
“I’m so pleased with you,” he murmured in my ear. “You did brilliantly today,” he kissed me hard again.
“I’m glad, Jason. Is there anything else I can do for you now?” I was disconnected from him, emotionally and physically, my leg dropped back down and I smoothed my skirt down with trembling hands. He stepped back from me, as if he was suddenly conscious of our surroundings - barely a few feet from the front door.
“No. Not now, later.” He zipped his fly up and took his shoes off, putting them next to mine in the shoe cupboard.
“I’ll make something light for dinner,” I said.
I collected myself and headed to the kitchen door, then changed direction. I could feel his semen dripping down my leg, I did not like the sensation and I was keen to rid myself of th
e liquid trail.
“I’ll have a wash first, if that’s alright,” I desperately needed to pee too.
