MILLENNIUM FIREWORKS
Mallorca, Spain
Kate perched on the rocks at the far end of the sea wall. The wall, which encircled the exclusive yachting enclave of Puerto Portals, was a man-made construction; built to protect the hundreds of sleek and stylish boats from the openness of the Mediterranean Sea. As the sun beat down, Kate smiled with contentment and revelled in the joy of missing out on grey, murky mornings so characteristic of England at that time of the year. Staring out across the bay, Kate focused on her breathing, which was laboured and erratic. This morning marked the first time she’d run the entire length of the wall without a single break.
Kate had started running as soon as she was given the all-clear after the surgery, and she amusingly cast her mind back to her first attempt. Enthusiastically, she’d adopted a determined starting position, with her lovely new chest thrust forward and her eyes firmly fixed ahead. Only seconds later, however, it was game over as after a mere twenty steps, she’d crumpled into a very un-sporty heap. However, clutching at her side, with a stitch so painful she was convinced she'd developed acute appendicitis, Kate had refused to give up. Slowly but surely, twenty steps turned into a hundred, a hundred turned into half the sea wall, which led her to the tremendous achievement of that morning.
The sea wall had become Kate’s favourite place to go running. She loved the peace and tranquillity with nothing but the sound of the waves and the wind whistling in her ears. When she’d finished running, she would sit at the end of the wall, looking out to sea. She would stay for ages watching the magnificent boats come in and out of the port; wondering who owned them and imagining what it would be like to be out on one of them, losing herself in the fantasy of being in a different world of complete freedom. So deep in thought was she, that at first she didn’t hear him.
“Kate, is that you?” A voice called out from some unidentifiable location.
Who could that be? She wondered, trying to trace the source.
“Kate!” yelled the voice once more, this time closer, “Kate, it’s me, Robert.”
Kate’s jaw dropped and the blood once again started to pump fast around her body. Robert, the man from Salsa. Robert, who’d made her body tingle. Robert, who, unbeknown to him, had often played the leading role in her fantasies.
“Robert,” Kate gasped in surprise. Shit, she looked like crap now; all sweaty and with no makeup on. Bloody hell , why did she have to bump into him now? She’d visualised their meeting many times before, especially as she lay alone in her bed, her hands delicately touching herself, the very thought of him making her wet. She shot up with a start and began to look around for him. Finally spying him clambering down from a stunning, sleek, sexy-looking yacht—the Luciana—forty-five feet of freshly varnished teak and sparkling chrome and then … then there was Robert, exactly as she’d imagined him. Oh God .
Grinning as he jumped athletically over the rocks, Robert was edging his way closer to her. Bloody hell. Holy fuck . There really was no escape, so Kate did what any self-respecting woman who found herself cornered would do. She sat back down, fixed a grin on her face and called out in what she hoped was a nonchalant way, “Robert, how nice to see you again.” Help .
“You okay?” he said approaching, as if they were old friends. “What are you doing here, sitting on the rocks all by yourself?” He moved in to plant a kiss on her cheek, flirtatious as ever. Nothing had changed. Kate didn’t know what to do. She looked into his eyes; those big, beautiful eyes. Big mistake. Suddenly she found herself melting all over again, just as she had when they were dancing in the Boomba Bar. Uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete . Everything about his face was as she remembered it, exactly as she’d envisioned it. Oh so many times. Kate averted her eyes in a futile attempt to regain her composure and instead focused on his lips. Full and red and plump; perfect for kissing. Arrrrgggghhhh , this was useless.
Aware that she was staring at him a little too intently and further aware that an answer was required to his question. “ Running ,” she finally squawked. Running? Is that all she could manage? She had to do better than that. “Running the sea wall,” she elaborated, somewhat breathlessly. Well, four words were better than one. In an hour she just might be able to produce a whole sentence. “What are you doing here?” she finally said.
“I’ve been here for the Ruta de la Sal Regata, but I’m leaving tomorrow for a trip around the Greek Islands.” As he spoke he stared at her as if he’d noticed something was different but wasn’t quite sure what. Kate recognised this as she watched him trying to process what had altered and then he focused on her breasts.
“You look different,” he finally announced, curiosity having gotten the better of him.
“Boob job,” she said innocently. Bugger . Did she really just say that? What on earth was wrong with her?
Robert laughed. “That’s what first struck me about you, Kate, your honesty; you say it how it is. I like that.”
Ignoring the compliment and desperate to regain some semblance of dignity, Kate clarified, “When I say boob job, I mean boobs lifted, they're all mine.” With that she jiggled up and down, tits bouncing, in an attempt to illustrate that there was no silicone in residence.
“Actually … boob reduction,” she corrected. Much better; men like big boobs. Hopefully she’d be awarded bonus points for having such womanly, huge breasts that she just had to make them smaller.
Robert sat down next to her and for a moment, there was calm, silence. Nothing but the sea and the wind and the sun shining down on the two of them, where nobody else existed and nothing else really mattered.
“You never came back to Salsa,” Robert said slowly.
Lie, Kate, don’t tell him the truth, just don’t. “It scared the living shit out of me.” Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. What’s wrong with me? She blushed. Had he noticed? She became flustered; irritated that she had such a big mouth and couldn’t just lie and make small talk like every other normal human being. Suddenly Kate’s momentary calmness had gone, and the tingle was back and making its presence known like never before. Go away. Go away. As if it were thrusting itself through steel iron gates and abducting her helpless body. DESIRE. How can this be? Impossible. Kate doesn’t do desire. Kate doesn’t do the tingle; she’s put it away, packaged it securely and put it up where the vibrators live, in the top cupboard, collecting dust. Stop looking at him, Kate. Stop acting like a little lovesick schoolgirl. Make your excuses and just go.
“I ought to be getting back. David will be wondering where I am.” Finally, some common sense.
“How is your dance partner?” Not that Robert really gave a damn.
“Good.” But Kate didn’t want to talk about David, either.
“How is Latka, or is it Ingrid?” Kate attempted to be polite, if a little sarcastic.
“What were you scared of in Salsa then?” Totally ignoring her question. Tennis ball successfully hit and firmly back in the opponent’s court.
Lie, Kate, just lie, hit the ball back over the net, then get the fuck out of there.
“You,” Kate announced, honesty making a full singing and dancing performance that afternoon. Brilliant Kate, just brilliant, straight into the net. Arrrrgggghhhh.
“The dance?” he questioned, yet he knew the answer even as he asked it.
“Yes, the dance and the non-kiss.”
“The what?”
“The non-kiss. You know, in the rain.”
“Ahhhhhhhh.”
“Yes. Ahhhhhhh,” she agreed, and they nodded their heads in unison.
“You weren’t the only one to feel it, you know.”
But she didn’t know, she didn’t know anything. Make small talk, keep the conversation going and then extricate yourself without making a complete and utter prat of yourself.
“Beautiful boat," Kate said, averting her eyes over to his yacht. She shifted uncomfortably on the rocks, conscious of his proximity. Stunned by the intensity of the physical feelings she had for this man, this stranger practically. She couldn’t look at him any longer and gazed out to sea.
“Yes, she is,” said Robert flatly, making it sound about as glamorous and exciting as a trip to the supermarket. His eyes still on Kate. “I’m going to miss her.”
“Where’s she going?”
Reverting his eyes back to the boat, “I’m trading her in for a power boat after this trip.”
Kate wanted to ask why but just kept silent.
“How about you?” Robert turned the focus back on Kate.
She ignored the question and stood up. “I need to leave. I’ve been here for ages and I should be getting back. Lovely to see you.” Yes, that’s it girl, you’re doing well. Now retreat. NOW.
“Sit a moment longer … I always wondered whether I’d bump into you again.”
No, Robert, no, please don’t say that. On command, Kate sat back down, but this time she felt even more awkward as she’d unintentionally plonked herself down even closer to him than before; she could smell him for Christ’s sake. Freshly baked apple pie with a dollop of cream couldn’t have smelt better at that moment. It was intoxicating, pulling her in as she fidgeted uncomfortably on the rock.
Robert edged in closer still, his leg now grazing hers, the pounding in the pit of her stomach increased by about twenty decibels.
“I’m sorry if I’m being flirtatious. It’s very naughty of me. You just look so—”
“So what?” Kate interrupted. She wanted to know, needed to know.
“Beautiful … vulnerable … delicate … edible.”
Kate gulped. Beautiful. Vulnerable. Delicate. Edible. The words spun around in her head. She’d never seen herself as any of those things.
Kate was clueless how to respond; desperately racking her brains for an appropriate response. He shouldn’t be speaking to her in this way. Her very own moral code dictated that even allowing a man to speak to her in this manner was not one of the principal ingredients in the pot of a successful marriage. Yet she wanted to hear more. For the first time, she’d met someone who saw another part of her; a part that had been buried and was now enthralled, after a lifetime of being invisible, at finally being acknowledged.
“Serene.” Robert instinctively sensed her need, conscious of her descent into the melting pot. He was a pro, a ‘player.’ He’d played this game a thousand times before whilst she was a mere novice; na?ve and ignorant of this world of seduction. She tried to get a sense of this man who seemed so genuine but surely couldn’t be for real? Was she that na?ve? Get up Kate. Get up and go now. Run, run, as fast as you can. Yet, she couldn’t run. It was too late. Her legs had already turned to jelly; that and the fact that she was convinced a wet patch had emerged in the crotch of her grey running shorts.
She looked at the way he was dressed, casual but designer; a white T-shirt with jeans that fit perfectly. Oh my god, there’s a bulge in his pants. Kate blushed and averted her eyes. Moments later, Kate’s awareness of ‘The Bulge’ caused a curious turn of events. In the realisation that she was responsible for the swelling, ‘Kate The Prude’ was taken over by another Kate, the Kate who had appeared mid-dance with Robert all those months ago; a more sexually assured Kate. Kate, The Seductress.
Strong and confident, The Seductress spoke, purred even, “The dance was electric.” Surprising the old, meek Kate.
“Yes, it was,” Robert said with equal assurance.
“Why are you selling her?” The Seductress wanted to know.
“I want to start going to the Caribbean, and I need to get something bigger, but I don’t want a crew, so I’m switching to power. I like being on my own.” Robert paused, but no longer than the time it took for the thought to enter his dick and travel up to his brain.
“Would you like to have a look around? She's a real beauty.” What better ending for his last day in Palma.
Small talk. Is this small talk? Meek Kate wasn’t sure but was instantly put back where she belonged, as The Seductress was running this show now and didn’t care; she wanted to go and have a look at the lovely sailing yacht, which belonged to the man with the lovely bulge in his pants. “That would be fabulous.”
They both got up, but he didn’t touch her; he didn’t want to scare her away, not while she was being so uncharacteristically calm. In silence, they walked to the Luciana; the air thick between them. As they descended the rocks to where the boat was moored, still no words were spoken. As Kate went to cross the gangplank, Robert reached out his hand to help her. In that moment, when his fingers touched hers, an electrical current ran through her entire body but Kate couldn’t speak. The Seductress had implemented a ban of silence. Kate would’ve run, but The Seductress kicked off her shoes, thrust out her fabulous new tits and smiled.
“Would you like a drink?” He was the perfect host, smiling politely.
A pint of vodka would do the trick. “A glass of water would be lovely.” Kate attempted to stay as calm as possible.
“That would be down in the galley. Come, I’ll show you inside.” Robert beckoned her with his eyes before disappearing down a ladder.
She followed him, making her descent whilst a little voice, a very small muffled voice, cried out, no, no, don’t go. This is a baaaaaaaaaadddddd idea. But as conscious as she was of her meek inner voice, Kate’s voice, she was also aware of a small ache deep within. It was an ache in her womb. In her womb? Conscious that Robert was down there somewhere getting her a drink, she took it upon herself to go and explore. All dark wooden panelling and doors in close proximity. She wandered down the small galley and opened the door at the far end and gasped. This wasn’t a room; it was a bed enclosed by four walls. Quickly she pulled the door shut, but it was too late; he was behind her. Directly behind her.
She didn’t turn, and she didn’t speak. His breath was heavy on the nape of her neck. The ache in her womb had gone and now there was a small vibration; a pleasant, warm vibration. The vibration moved at a rhythmic pace, as if someone were playing the drum roll from Ravel’s Bolero . Unable to turn around, she could feel him, smell him. She closed her eyes and gave in to the pure pleasure that his smell elicited. He placed what must’ve been an ice cube from the glass he was holding onto the nape of her neck, and suddenly, with the unexpected iciness, the drum roll got louder. Still, she did not turn around; still neither spoke. The ice cube was melting as he moved his fingers slowly in circles round and round her neck before sliding them down, massaging the length of her spine, vertebra by vertebra, underneath the now wet cotton of her T-shirt. The sensation was exquisite, but still she did not turn around. Still, there were no words.
The ice cube travelled down slowly, sensually, and then curled around to her front, magically finding each breast; lingering for only a moment before continuing its descent. The ice was now melting furiously as the heat emanated from her body … then, without stopping, it reached the bottom of her shorts. Ice cube fully melted, his fingers pulled at her shorts and stroked the base of her spine. She knew that she needed to leave. This was the moment they called ‘the point of no return.’ Kate would definitely be retreating, but Kate was no longer there; she’d left a long time ago. The Seductress had command of this army now, and she was enjoying this man running ice cubes up and down her body, his fingers fondling her silky smooth skin.
Still, with her back to him, Robert wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck—moist from sweat and ice—with soft little delicate rosebud kisses that sent electric currents through her body. Skin all goosebumps and eyes closed tight. Still she had not faced him; she was in a daze, hazy as he was kissing her. Top off. Oh no. Please dear god no. Disgusting grey peacock patterned bra. Of all days. It came off quickly, thankfully, and her sensational pert upright breasts sprouted forth, nipples outstretched, as if they were crying, ‘touch me, touch me, suck me.’
Eyes closed he turned her around … and then … and then … the kiss. How could one possibly begin to describe the kiss? Just lips, touching, caressing, no tongues at first, just soft lips on soft lips; small short pecks brushing the side of her mouth and down her neck and then back up again, and then his tongue inside her mouth … firm … wet … soft … perfect. Kissing slowly, she moaned, even The Seductress whimpered. The kissing was overwhelming. Then his lips left hers to travel down to her nipples, her beautiful new nipples. Oh thank god they’d been lifted; by now they would’ve been down to the floor. But they weren’t. They were just thrusting themselves into his mouth. He took one nipple and slowly kissed it as he gently held the other breast. Another ice cube … more wetness … more electricity. He stroked both breasts, giving them exactly what they required, what they deserved.
Strange, there seemed to be two hands on her breasts, one caressing her hair and yet still two more now tugging at her shorts. Shorts now down—muggy grey full coverage knickers exposed—but who cared? Not her. Not at that moment. She cared about nothing except the pleasure. The wetness between her legs increased; should she be embarrassed? Was there such a thing as being too wet? She didn’t know, she didn't care and then came the fingers, the fingers were inside her … her legs crumbled … he held her up with his fifth arm all the while the fingers were moving inside of her, slowly, with great precision, as if he were a surgeon performing open heart surgery. Such precision that Kate gasped. Her mind was void of thoughts except the exquisite, infinitely delectable, most extraordinary sensation that was now tearing through her body. And then it happened. Just with his fingers, just as if he were playing Bach's Double Concerto on the violin. Just with her standing up, knickers around her ankles. Kate orgasmed. Kate screamed as if a thousand fireworks had simultaneously exploded inside her body. The Millennium Trafalgar Square fireworks display had just taken place inside of Kate Buchanan, and with the explosion, her legs totally gave way.
She started to shake, slowly at first, but then her whole body convulsed as the force of their connection ricocheted around the far regions of her being. As the shaking took over her body, Robert lifted her up; the knickers thankfully dropped to the floor and she was naked but not ashamed. He carried her to the bed, and gently laid her down. She was not ashamed because she felt beautiful. Quivering, she lay there in shock, in complete and utter astonishment, trying to recapture the sensation, and then suddenly he was lying next to her. Speech was useless and resistance completely and utterly futile.
With a frenzy and a passion and an impatience that belied her, she lay back with her legs open, welcoming, inviting, without inhibitions, she wanted him inside her. She pulled at his clothes; she didn’t even give a thought to her nakedness with this man who was all but a stranger. His jeans were slung across the cabin. Kate caught a fright, not even a pair of Calvin Klein boxers to be ripped down as he was going commando. His penis, which, having escaped from the confines of the jeans, stood proud and tall, like a sergeant major in front of his huge army on the verge of leading his troops into battle. More kissing, more sucking—deep, soft, sensual lips that fit perfectly with her own—pulling, tugging little nips that sent shivers up and down the entire length of her body. Smelling his smell, kissing his body, his face, they consumed each other, entwined around each other, like snakes, curling, stretching, folding, sliding into each other.
The vibrations started all over again in the pit of her stomach and then moved lower and lower until she knew she was going to have another Millennium fireworks display right there and then. The drums became stronger and harder. Boom. Boom. Boom. The big bass drum was deafening as he thrust himself inside her, expelling long, deep breaths as he strived to contain himself. She squeezed him, her legs wrapped around him never to let him go. They both held the moment and then he thrust again and then again and then suddenly she felt it; the explosion. She was oblivious now to where he was or what he needed, and selfishly for the first time in her life, she was consumed by her own joy. No longer Kate the wife, nor Kate the mother— just Kate. When she looked up to see the ecstasy on his face as he finally came, she screamed like she’d never screamed before. She swore, and she cried. She wrapped her arms around him as he lay shuddering on top of her. Then, from afar, she let out one final agonised howl as real tears streamed down her face onto his head buried within her breasts. It was a howl of pleasure and a howl of pain; it was a howl of just having experienced the most incredible thing she’d ever experienced in her whole life and a howl of knowing her betrayal.
Almost as quickly as The Seductress had appeared, she then disappeared … and it was Kate who was left lying naked, entwined around a man she barely knew, shaking and trembling uncontrollably.