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On the Winds of Change |
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By Margo Perry
William awoke naked, quivering on the edge of orgasm, his hard dick in his hand. He reached for his wife, but found rumpled sheets in an otherwise empty bed. It had been three months since he and Alice had made love and, even then, the act had been perfunctory. He felt like he was singing duo with a partner who was mute, and he was tired of it. He reached for cover as sadness breezed in through his open window, cooling his sweating skin.
Forget your cock, man. You have more important things to think about!
Right!
He was one contract signing away from the job of his dreams and, as much as this potential position meant to him, he believed it meant more to Alice. It was she who’d heard that head-hunters were on the prowl for young blood to join Victor Fawkes’ impressive legal team and had insisted that he apply, despite his protestations that every qualified lawyer around would be throwing his hat into that ring and that most would have much more experience than his five years of practice.
“You were top of your class,” she insisted. “Besides, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Do you want to stay working for the government forever? And, before you say it, damn serving the community. I want things!”
That was six months and countless interviews and proposals ago and here he stood poised to begin a job that would exploit the full weight of all he’d learned. Push his love of improvisation into overdrive. It was the challenge that drew him; the money, power and influence that drove Alice. She’d given him ten years to become a millionaire and hoped this success would place them way ahead of schedule.
You’d better get up!
Ignoring his still insistent hard-on, William headed for the shower. He regulated a near cold massage, stimulating both his body and mind, and then towelled himself vigorously before returning to the bedroom to dress for his meeting.
Alice joined him just as he was checking himself in the closet’s full-length mirror. She stood beside him unseeing, her head cocked to one side, lost in thought. But William didn’t need her opinions. He needed a woman. He needed to be touched. Everything about Alice was contained, from her tight body, narrow hips and perky tits to her mint coloured designer pantsuit and matching pumps. She looked up from her five-foot-little- bit frame and scanned her six foot plus husband from his neatly groomed head, dark pinstriped suit and vest, down to his wing tipped Florsheims. She nodded her short cap of blonde curls almost imperceptibly before slowly circling him, as though she were inspecting an exhibition-ready show horse.
“Satisfied?” William asked, heading for the door. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You need these!”
Alice rushed to the bureau and grabbed a set of car keys. She rattled them playfully in front of her modest cleavage, her pert extended nipples showing themselves off nicely beneath her creamy blouse.
William felt a familiar fear crawl into his belly. How many times had he been confronted with a price tag he couldn’t afford after Alice had concluded the purchase? She made sure that they entertained in fine restaurants and dressed to a standard way beyond their means, her eye kept unblinkingly on the life she expected to have. She chose her girlfriends carefully, all of them assets to their ambitious husbands.
“Come see,” Alice said, beckoning him over to the window.
William’s fists curled into a tight ball and his jaw twitched with suppressed anger when he saw the sleek silvery Mercedes parked in the driveway.
“Don’t get your undies in a twist,” she taunted. “I only rented it for the day. Take it back as soon as you’re through, but today, you’ve got to look and drive the part!”
Guess your Rabbit isn’t good enough for her.
It was all so ridiculous! If Victor Fawkes even saw the car, he’d know very well that William couldn’t afford it. But when it came to Alice, he picked his battles carefully. Her rage was cold, calculating and full of spite. He took the keys and escaped down the stairs. This was his day. He’d drive the car and enjoy it.
The earthy roar of the motor and smell of new leather was heady. He was about to join the big leagues and he was ready. William had grave respect for every legal mind in the firm and was appreciative of the courtesy they’d shown him during the vetting process. He turned on the radio to his favourite jazz station and soon found himself in front of the exquisitely renovated brownstone that housed Fawkes & Barnes.
He rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and presented himself to Mr. Fawkes’ personal receptionist, Clarice, a middle-aged, Chanel-suited woman whose smile was deliberate and aloof.
“Mr. Fawkes is expecting me. Hopefully after today, I’ll be part of the team handling his legal affairs.”
“You’ll be handling whatever Mr. Fawkes needs you to handle,” she said, picking up her phone. William couldn’t count the times he’d seen the woman, but she made him feel like an intruding stranger, one hardly worth her attention. “Come,” she said, leading the way to the office. “He’s waiting.”
Victor Fawkes was seated behind a huge ornately carved mahogany desk and he immediately stood and moved toward William, his hand extended in greeting.
“Welcome.”
His grip was all about power and his voice had the sonority and gravitas of a dramatic actor. Today it oozed charm, but William was sure that it could just as easily spout pure, unvarnished fury. Fawkes didn’t waste one moment on pleasantries.
“I’ve got a big problem,” he said, moving close to William, his tone conspiratorial. “Today is my tenth wedding anniversary. I promised to spend it at home with my wife, but something’s come up. I need you to deliver a package to her with my deepest apologies. Tell her that I’ve been called away for the weekend. On an emergency, of course. I’ll be back on Monday morning.”
He pulled a necklace case from his drawer and passed it to William.
Lazare diamonds! What Alice wouldn’t do for just one peek!
Just then, Fawkes’ senior partner, Charlie Barnes, burst through the door, unannounced.
“Is it true? Are you taking your slut to Dubai this weekend?” he barked, the twitch in his neck unleashed, his veins popping.
“Can’t you see William standing here? Be professional, man. I’ll talk to you when we’ve finished our business.”
“And what’s that?” Barnes asked, pointing to the jewellery box. “Aren’t you even man enough to deliver the pay-off and excuses yourself? At least let me take that to Marjorie. Our families have been close all our lives. She doesn’t even know William! It’ll be easier coming from me.”
“But I don’t want it coming from you. You’ve had a thing for my wife ever since I’ve known you and I don’t trust you to put the right spin on this thing.”
“There is no right spin and you should be ashamed of yourself. Her Papa must be turning in his grave!”
Barnes was marching in tight circles, his face flushed and his balding head gleaming with perspiration.
“William, please see that she gets the gift and my apologies right away. She’ll be at the house. Offer to take her to lunch. Or dinner. Whatever will make her feel better. I’ll certainly appreciate it.” He went back to his desk drawer and pulled out a platinum credit card. “Use this and keep it,” he said, passing it to William.
“Disgusting,” Barnes snorted.
Contracts had yet to be signed and William had already been given his first, and very questionable, assignment.
“I’m driving a rented car, sir, and . . .”
“My girl will take care of all that. Luxury Cars, right? Enjoy it for the weekend and we’ll see what Monday brings.”
William had been dismissed. He left quietly, closing the door on voices already raised in anger.
What have you gotten yourself into?
He didn’t know, but he was worried. If Victor Fawkes knew how bad a liar William was, he might have chosen Charlie Barnes as his emissary.
He left quickly and was happy to be out of the building and driving along the quiet tree-lined street. He put on his shades to guard against the fierce noonday sun and opened the car windows. He wanted to call Alice, ask her how best to handle the situation, but he knew better. She would see a situation to be taken advantage of and be rife with Machiavellian notions. William sighed as he tasted loneliness mixed with the salty winds blowing in from the sea.
Fairyland Estates Private Property. Do not enter.
For the first time in his thirty years of life, William Rhodes drove not past, but toward Fawkes’ gated property, his chest full to bursting with anticipation, excitement and dread.
“Billy Rhodes,” the gate guard grinned. “Remember me? I’m Georgie. We went to Towne Elementary together.”
“Of, course,” William said. “Long time, no see! Mr. Fawkes has sent me to deliver a message to Mrs. Fawkes.”
“Go on through,” Georgie said, raising the barrier. “I’ve heard some real good things about you. Congrats!”
“Thanks,” William said.
He remembered Georgie’s chubby face, but from an old life. A life when Billy rode happily on his father’s shoulders or, hugged close to his mother’s soft, sweet smelling breasts, learned unconditional love. That life had been kind and good. But everything changed when his policeman father died helping a variety store owner thwart a late night robbery. Coming only one week after his retirement, it plunged his mother into a dark, debilitating and isolating depression from which she never fully recovered. Billy, his father, had lived and died serving the public interest and at his funeral, without wasting tears, Billy Jr. had become William, a man determined to mind his own business.
Put all that out of your mind.
Right!
William drove through the entrance slowly, willing himself back to the present. He couldn’t count the times he’d passed this property going to and from school or to and from the island’s airport when he was continuing studies abroad, always wondering what it would be like to drive into the lap of such power and luxury. And now, here he was. He fondled the stick shift, loving the motor’s purr, its aggressive styling and prodigious power. William Rhodes was on his way and he’d never look back.
Towering palms lined the roadway, forming a swaying cathedral ceiling above him. On either side, seemingly stretching for miles, he could see rolling greens expansive enough for a golf course. He wished that his father could see him now, but with some trepidation. He feared that he might have been disappointed that his only son hadn’t followed his path into law enforcement. But William didn’t want to impel laws. He wanted to make them. And one day he would.
He was awed as he rounded the last turn and began to ascend the circular driveway. He heard the peaceful trickling before he saw the fountain generously bathing a statuesque and proud copper female form. Her crown and stola were missing, but she still reminded William of the Statue of Liberty and that freedom could be bought and placed in the care of those who could afford her … people like Victor Fawkes. And soon, he would be a fledgling member of that club.
He smiled as he climbed out of his car and handed his keys to the valet. The wind’s direction had changed from balmy west to gusting north and William could sense passion in its cooling currents. He bounded up the stairs and made his way across the veranda to the front door. To his surprise, it opened before he could ring the bell.
“Come in. Georgie let us know you were on the way.”
The uniformed maid was a squat, plump, bustling bowl of energy. Her dark eyes shone out of her dimpled cool black face.
“I’m William Rhodes and I’m here to see Mrs. Fawkes.”
“That means the man’s not comin’,” the woman hissed, slamming the door behind William. “He’s lettin’ her down yet again and on their anniversary, too.”
William looked up through the high glassed-in ceiling to the blue March sky. A series of trickling, sand-finished wall fountains lined the walkway from the front door to a beautifully landscaped back garden.
“What a peaceful place,” William said.
“Not with your news! We ain’t got half enough waterfalls to bring peace today, believe me. My name’s Tilly, by the way, and I been lookin’ after Marjorie Fawkes since she was a baby. She been plannin’ this day for far too long to be ready for this disappointment.” She stared at William. “You’re Billy Rhodes boy, ain’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” William answered.
This woman was more comfortable in her own skin and in this place than William could ever imagine being and there was a lesson in that. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he found comfort in her authority.
“Your daddy was my friend,” she said, “and one of the finest men born to breathe. My son got into drugs and I called your father and asked him to come by and arrest him. I’ll never know what he said to my Jerry, but he didn’t arrest him and I never had a minute’s trouble with the boy again. A great man, I tell you. You’ve got a lot to live up to. You watch your step, you hear?”
“Mr. Fawkes sent me here to explain and give Mrs. Fawkes her gift,” William said, brandishing the box.
“Whatever’s in that box, Marjorie Fawkes could buy for herself. Victor Minors was the one who took her name. She built that pedestal of his and sometimes I think he’s plumb forgot. But, that’s at his peril. What Marjorie puts up, Marjorie can take down and he better not forget it! And to send you into this mess, oh Lord, Lord!”
“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Fawkes was called away on an emergency.”
“You Billy Rhodes’ boy, alright - can’t lie to save your soul. All I’m saying is make your daddy proud. Don’t do anything that Billy Rhodes wouldn’t do and you’ll be fine.”
There was a subtext to what she was saying that left William unsettled. It was like she could see through to something uncertain, some battle deep inside him and he was relieved when she led him away from the door and her scrutiny.
They walked almost the length of the marble hall to a downward spiralling staircase that led to a world class screening room. It was a symphony in blue: walls, carpeting and seats and from the thick acrylic picture windows lining the left side, you could view their azure Olympic sized pool. A bar and concession stand lined the right wall. William couldn’t help wondering how much fun it would be to watch Lost in this beautiful room, on that huge screen.
As they entered, the lights dimmed and a seductive voice whispered, “Welcome Victor Fawkes, this is our life.”
William thought his heart would break. Marjorie Fawkes was standing in a spotlight, front and center. A red, floor length, backless gown, buttoned at the neck draped her voluptuous body and accentuated the roundest, largest breasts William had ever seen. Her hips were made for love, a Reuben’s masterpiece, and thick braids wound round and round her head like a crown. She was the most alluring woman William had ever seen and just looking at her made his legs tremble, his cock lurch awake and sweat pepper his brow. William was entranced.
Victor Fawkes is a fool of the first order.
“Have a seat,” the voice continued.
They were nearing the front, as an usher approached, a tray of Mimosas in hand.
“Sit,” Tilly commanded.
William did and Tilly rushed toward Marjorie. As they talked, their body language became more and more agitated and the box in his lap seemed as heavy, unstable and explosive as any homemade bomb. William didn’t know what to do.
Get out. Give the women some privacy!
William stood up and started toward the exit.
“Come back, William Rhodes. I’ll be with you soon. Have a drink,” Marjorie said.
William returned to his seat and took a drink from the tray that had been abandoned on the table in front of his seat.
The screen suddenly filled with images of Marjorie and Victor: Marjorie graduating from law school. Victor Minors, her father’s uniformed and grinning chauffeur. Marjorie running things with her father at Fawkes & Barnes. Victor later graduating from college and law school. Her father’s funeral. Her mother’s funeral. Marjorie and Victor’s grand wedding.
“That’s enough! There’s been a change in plans. You can all leave,” Marjorie said. Her voice quaked and she was clinging to Tilly’s hand. “Please, turn off that damn spot!”
The theatre went dark and then became bathed in soft, natural light. Bodies scurried from behind counters and computer boards, all heading for the exit.
“Oh Lord, Lord,” Tilly kept repeating. She started out, but stopped beside William. “She’s hurt bad,” she muttered. “Take care of her like your daddy woulda’ done.”
And then she was gone, leaving William alone with Marjorie Fawkes. In the dim light and ensuing quiet, he could hear his own heart beat, as she slowly walked toward him. He ached to take her in his arms; all he wanted was to comfort her.
“I feel ridiculous,” she said, quietly.
“You’re not ridiculous. You’re beautiful,” he said.
He couldn’t stop his voice or hands from shaking. He put down his glass and she patted his arm, smiling.
“You’re much too sweet for these hatchet jobs,” she said, sadly, “and I’m not going to let Victor do this to you. You’re a lawyer and I’m going to make sure that he treats you like one.”
William looked into her eyes and they were clear, blue and innocent. But, her tits were another thing. They were sirens calling him to places he had no right to be, places where raw, bawdy sexual exploration was the be-all and end-all. Marjorie began to pull pins from her hair, lifting her arms and showing her tits to even better advantage and William realized that he’d do anything, just to stay with her.
“I spent two hours in the salon torturing myself just to please him and he couldn’t even bother to call. Tilly said something about an emergency? What was so important?”
The red fabric of her dress couldn’t begin to hide the river of alluring cleavage that seemed to run right down to her lap as she relieved her coif of more pins. Her pendulous tits danced and swayed with each movement, beguiling him as surely as would a hypnotist’s watch.
“I don’t know. I came in to sign contracts . . .”
“Yes, I know. You’re Billy Rhodes’ boy, our new legal eagle. How selfish of Victor to send you here on this fool’s errand! He wouldn’t dare come himself.”
“It’s alright,” William said.
As long as I can sit here gazing at those tits.
Marjorie pulled a cell phone from the folds of her skirt and dialled.
Marjorie Fawkes, here ... Are we flying with you or commercial today? He told you it’s our anniversary … Yes, ten years … First class commercial to Dubai. Got it … I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful time. Goodbye.
She turned to William.
“He’s no good at cheating, no matter how much he practices,” she said. “I’m done!”
A wan smile softened the harsh set of her jaw.
William passed her the box. “He asked me to give you this and offer his apologies.” He wondered if he sounded as foolish as he felt.
“You’re married. Why don’t you give it to your wife?”
“She doesn’t deserve it.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Marjorie leaned into him, lightly touched his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. He could feel breast flesh pressing into him, dissolving codes of propriety, melting all resolve.
“Your pain is as raw as mine,” she said. “Help me get rid of these braids. I need to be free.”
She worked from the front, emancipating, turning thick binding ropes into rivers of crimpy gold strands that flowed generously over her mountains of breast flesh. William moved behind her seat, as his lawyer’s head gave way to his poet’s heart. He inhaled deeply, worshipping the lemony silk of her tresses as his hands loosened her hair. Smoky with desire, his dark eyes stayed glued to her massive breasts that loomed even larger from above.
“All done,” she said, leaning back into him.
The back of her head met his hard hot cock. It strained and leaked, needing to move past fabric to crevices and caverns warm and moist with female lust.
“All done,” he said, smoothing her hair with an open, tender palm. “Are you alright?”
Her answer was wordless. Her breath came in pants and her breasts rose and fell, giant swells on a stormy sea. She turned her head slightly, before leaning further back into the fullness of his groin. He thought he felt heat escaping her full lips. They were locked in a silence as pregnant with passion as any moment William had ever known and he was lost in her, in them, in mindless ecstasy.
Don’t fight it! She’s everything you’ve ever wanted.
“Let’s go for a swim,” she said, standing and moving into the aisle.
She took two steps and stopped suddenly. She turned to face him, a fire burning in her eyes. She placed her arms around him and pulled him tight into her. She moved against him, her soft rubbery breast flesh reaching deep inside to the very core of his maleness. His fingers found the buttons that held her dress, unfastened them and her dress fell to her waist. William had to close his eyes quickly to avoid orgasm. Those glorious, creamy orbs were displayed, almost in full, in softly-moulded, flesh-coloured stick-on cups. He re-opened his eyes and his poor cock leaked and surged and leaked again.
Marjorie twisted around and bent down to press a button on the seat’s console.
“I’ve locked the doors,” she informed him. “Now, hurry! I want you, William. Hurry!”
William ripped his jacket and vest, pants, shirt and boxer briefs from his body as quickly as he could. He watched Marjorie’s gown fall; watched her step out of her heels and panties. She peeled the bra from her body and her tits fell heavily past her waist.
“Lie down,” she ordered.
The plush carpet tickled his back. He drooled helplessly as she straddled him, legs on either side of his hips. She looked wild, untameable. She grabbed hold of his cock and he groaned with pleasure, struggling to delay his careening orgasmic climb. She lowered herself onto him and her pussy and juices welcomed him with moist heat and pulsing pleasure.
She was his Godiva and he, her ride. She leaned forward, her hand balanced on his chest. Her tits covered his torso. Her wild hair fell almost down to her ass and onto the carpet. Somehow, he knew to submit. Knew that she needed his cock and would use it. She rotated her hips in circular motions, describing 6 … 9 … 6. She raised herself up slowly and lowered herself again, devouring all of him.
“I’m so hungry,” she gasped.
She threw her head back, flailed from side to side, only to fall forward with such speed that her hair slapped his face. He breathed in the smell of her, lemon and sex, holding his breath, holding on to her scent possessively as if his life depended on it. She squeezed her pussy around him and released the pressure, only to squeeze again.
William knew that she was claiming him, declaring the race’s end and he knew what to do. He grabbed hold of her waist, enjoying the folds of her flesh, and began to drive into her – hard and fast and then faster still. She was riding him, matching his pace. Their eyes locked, male into female, one force riding bare-back across the line of no return.
They didn’t know they were weeping until a blessed silence filled the room and mixed tears stained their heaving chests.
They forgot about swimming. For lunch, she lay him down in one of the guest rooms and, beginning with his toes, kissed, nibbled and licked, feasting on every inch of him.
And then they ate Tilly’s famous spinach salad with crab and cornbread muffins.
For dinner, he stripped slowly on command while she played with her tits and her pussy. When she was ready, he spread her lips and sipped her wine, until she ordered him to drink with heart and gusto. She didn’t care who heard her wails of pleasure. And then they fucked again, this time with patience and finesse.
Afterwards, they ate Tilley’s steak and Caesar salad.
By the time he called Alice to tell her that he wouldn’t be coming home, they’d found themselves in an irresistible place, one they were incapable of leaving ever again.
“Alice can have the necklace. I’ll have you,” Marjorie said.
“And Victor can have his job. I’ll have you,” William said.
“I’m going back to the firm and I’ll need you by my side,” she said. “Will you be by my side?”
“Yes.”
The cool wind of change blew through the bedroom window. There’d be rough waters ahead, but they’d weather them together. They fell asleep spooning each other and slept like babies. |