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A Week in Europe

Category: Mature
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It was my third time in England and the big British Airways jet came in over London and touched down at Heathrow thirty minutes early. As usual, it seemed to take almost as long to taxi and disembark as it had to cross the Atlantic, but finally I made my way with the other passengers along a carpeted corridor with a one way mirror at the end and came out into the baggage area. I had my laptop, as usual, and a bottle of Scotch I’d bought at O’Hare.

I was making my way to the carousel when a hand touched my arm and I turned to see a tall man in a dark suit.

“Mr. Harper?” he asked. “Thomas Harper?”

I nodded.

“Would you come with me please, sir.” There was no question at the end of the sentence, and his hand continued to hold my forearm.

“What’s this about?” I asked.

“No need to worry, sir. If you would accompany me, please.”

I’d been on the ground only a couple of minutes, and already met someone who sounded like Dick van Dyke. Maybe the movies weren’t all wrong after all.

He led me away from the baggage area, opened a door with a swipe card and then along an uncarpeted corridor, and when he opened the next door we were outside again. A limousine waited, it’s back door open and he led me to the car, his hand on my arm once more, as if he thought I might make a break for it.

Me! This never happened to me. I’ve been through more airport security than most people, and even after 9/11, I was always the one they waved through with a nod. They rarely even asked me to remove my shoes any more. Safe face, I guess.

I made a token resistance between the building and the car. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir.” He looked at me and surprised me by shrugging. “I’m afraid I don’t know any more than you, Mr. Harper. I was asked to bring you here and put you in the car. That’s all.” He pronounced it as “awl”.

“And if I refuse?”

“I was told that wasn’t an option.” His face, which had softened, hardened up again.

I had not been nervous before, just puzzled. Now my stomach jumped and fluttered. Had they mistaken me for someone?

The hand on my arm was firm. The car idled, pale exhaust rising into the cool morning.

I’m no action man, no fighter, and there was nothing at all I could think to do so I ducked into the car and the man closed the door behind me. At least the locks didn’t suddenly click down, like you’d see in some thriller.

I looked at the back of the head of the driver, surprised, though I don’t know why, that he was sitting on the wrong side of the car.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” I asked.

He made no reply, just accelerated away and turned onto a perimeter road. I sat, uneasy in the seat, and became away of perfume trapped in the car. It was something familiar, musky with an undertone of spice and I associated it with heat and sunshine, but could not place it any better than that. We travelled fast around the airfield for a mile and pulled up in front of a Jury’s Inn hotel. It wasn’t smart, but I had stayed in worse over the years. Aircrew were coming and going through the doors and it was obviously where they stayed on stop over. The driver came around, opened the door for me.

I stepped out and walked into the hotel, stood for a moment, alone, wondering what to do next. Then the perfume returned, stronger and I turned to one side and saw Desi standing beside a pillar, arms crossed, glaring at me.

I smiled, held out my hand and she ignored it.

“Good to see you again, Desi,” I said.

Her features didn’t soften. “I just want you to know this was against my advice,” she said.

“What was?”

“This whole…” She shook her head, searching for the right words, gave up. “This whole stupid… thing!” She stared hard at me, then turned without another word and strode across the lobby.

Because I didn’t know what else to do I followed. I wasn’t stupid. Surprised, yes, but not stupid. I could guess where she was taking me, and my heart began to pound in my chest.

All the way up in the elevator (although it said Lift above the door as we entered) she stood in one corner, arms still crossed, face still pulled into an angry frown.

The bell pinged, the doors opened and we stepped into a corridor. Desi led me along it to the end, swiped a key card and nodded. She stayed where she was. I pushed the door open and stepped through.

Niki was standing at the window. The room was normal size, maybe sixteen feet long with an en-suite taking up most of one side by the door. The bed was enormous, as if making it bigger implied class.

She stared out through the triple glazing, and beyond I saw planes landing and taking off, unbelievably close, unbelievably silent, except I could feel a faint tremor in the floor each time they powered up.

“Niki,” I said, my voice fluttering.

She still didn’t turn. “Why, Thomas?” she said.

“Why what?”

“I thought we had something good together, something real. Why did you just leave?”

“Niki…” I took three paces towards her, and hearing me she raised her hand behind her, palm up and stopped me.

“Don’t, Thomas. Just tell me what was so wrong with me, so I know, and then you can leave.”

“Niki,” I said again, my voice breaking. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. Not one single tiny little thing. You’re perfect.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “So fucking perfect you walk out without saying goodbye. You leave and I never see you again. Thomas, can you even imagine how much pain that gave me?”

“Niki, I’m sorry,” and I started towards her again. Her hand came up higher, stiffer, but this time I ignored it, continued to her and up to her and put one hand on her waist, the other on her left shoulder. Her rigid arm slid over my shoulder, the muscle hard and trembling.

I felt her stiffen, go rigid.

“Dont…” she whispered.

I put my head close to hers. “Niki, I love you. I love you more than anyone I have ever loved in my life.”

She turned her head, just her head, looking at me from the side of her eyes.

“So why did you leave like that, Thomas? Why?” It was the cry of a young girl who has lost her first comfort blanket, a heartbroken cry that knew the world would never be the same again.

“Because it was a dream, Niki. Because when everyone else came in, I realized it was a dream. That was your world, not mine. I couldn’t believe I was a part of that, could be a part of that. D’you think it didn’t hurt me as well? But I thought I was doing what was best, for both of us.”

“But we felt right, Thomas. Me and you, it felt right. Didn’t you feel that as well?”

I pulled her back against me and she came, stiffly. “I felt that,” I said. “But it was a dream, Niki, for me. You are just so beautiful, your world so different from mine. I couldn’t believe it was any more than a fling for you. I didn’t want to hang around until you grew tired of me and broke my heart. I couldn’t stand that, Niki, I couldn’t have lived with that.” I realized I was crying, tears sliding down my cheeks.

“I loved you so much that week,” I continued. “It was the best week of my life, and you the best thing that ever happened to me. But I’m fifty in two weeks, for God’s sake, and you’re half my age, and a thousand, no a million times more attractive. Things like this don’t happen, not to middle aged men from Chicago.”

Her arm, until then still held awkwardly over my shoulder, softened and she moved it around and placed it over mine on her left shoulder.

“Did you not think of me, Thomas?” she asked softly. “Did you not think I felt love as well? I thought you knew I did.”

“I thought…” My voice caught and I stopped, took a breath. “I thought you believed you loved me. But I thought I knew better. Niki… I thought I knew your heart better than you did.” My voice trembled and caught again and I couldn’t continue.

Finally she turned, turned and came inside my arms and I hugged her close and put my cheek against hers. My tears rolled down my face and joined with hers and she gasped against me, taking air in with an effort, sobbing against me.

I held her, smoothing her hair. It had grown out in the three months since we had met, still fine and soft but falling now to below her shoulders.

I felt her slim body shaking against mine and stroked her back.

Her perfume enveloped me, filling my head.

I wanted to kiss her, but didn’t know if she would let me.

I waited while she cried. Sniffed and held back my own tears. Waited again.

Slowly, gradually, she stilled against me. She moved, let a breath out and softened against my body.

I lifted my hand and touched her face and slowly she allowed me to turn it and look at me.

We stood close, our lips almost touching.

“I love you so much, Niki,” I whispered.

“I cannot let you break my heart again, Thomas.”

“I would never do that.”

“You already have,” she said.

I felt tears well again in my eyes.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, Niki.”

“But it did.”

“Niki, I love you. I want to-” I stopped. Even now I believed she was too out of reach to be real.

She put her hand on my lips.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Thomas.”

My lips tingled where she touched me. Her scent, her warmth, drawing me in.

I thought about her, about me, and I did want to say it, I did mean it. I looked into her eyes, saw the need in them.

“Sit down,” I said. “I need to tell you something.”

She looked puzzled, but slid out of my arms and sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, rucking the covers with her feet when she kicked off her sandals, pulled her knees up and linked her hands around them. She stared at me, waiting. She was as beautiful and elegant as ever, even with her face damp with tears and her eyes pink from crying. She was dressed in a plain cream silk blouse, cream linen pants cut loose.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her and started to speak.

“I made a mistake, Niki. I know that now, and I knew it almost immediately then. I sat on the plane leaving Miami and before the seat belt sign went off I knew it was a mistake. But by then I couldn’t turn back. When I landed in Chicago I called the hotel, but you had gone.”

Niki looked at me, making no comment.

“So I waited,” I said. “I went home and thought it over, and then I tried to find you. D’you know how difficult you are to find? You have agencies and managers and protectors, and I can understand why, but it meant I couldn’t reach you. I left messages. I left a hundred messages in the first month.”

“I didn’t get any messages,” she whispered.

“I didn’t know that. I thought you were just ignoring me, and that’s what I thought was happening. Why would I think that someone as special as you would want to hear from me again? I thought we had something special. That week in Miami was different for me, and I thought, I hoped, it was for you as well.”

She gave the slightest nod, barely a movement, but it encouraged me to go on.

“So I stalked you on the web. I searched for your name and found news about you, managed to track where you had been, but never where you were going. I could have flown to Paris, to Moscow, to Bejing but it would be after you left. I knew where you had been, never where you were. And you didn’t reply to my messages.”

“I didn’t know, Thomas.”

“And if you had known?” I asked.

Tears welled heavy in her eyes again. She twisted round, moved down the bed and came to me. Her arms snaked around my shoulders, her head pressed against mine.

“I would have answered them, Thomas. Every one of them. Every single one. I thought you didn’t care! My heart hurt so much I didn’t know if it would ever stop.”

“You could have found me,” I said.

She drew back and looked at me, her hands on my face.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” she sobbed.

“Oh Niki, this is so fucked up.”

“No it’s not. We can fix this, Thomas. We can, can’t we?”

She waited. Her hands trembled against my cheeks. Her eyes searched deep into mine.

I could hardly breath, and the thought ran through my mind: Great, now I keel over with a heart attack!

“Do you really mean that Niki?”

She nodded, beautiful, tearful.

“If I didn’t mean it, Thomas, I would not have tracked you down too. I would not have paid men to bring you here. I needed to know, Thomas, I needed to know why you abandoned me!” She started to cry softly again. “Even if the truth hurt, I needed to know why.”

“There was no why,” I said. “Only a foolish old man who should have listened to his own heart and ignored his head. But I need to know if you really mean it, Niki. Because I’m on the edge of committing to something here. And I’ve not done that for a long time. I thought I was never going to do it again. And I don’t think I could bear it if I commit and you… change your mind.”

“Oh Thomas, why would I ever do that?”

“Because you’re young and beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, and I’m middle aged and ordinary.”

“You are beautiful to me, Thomas. More beautiful than anyone ever before.”

I looked down, suddenly unwilling to look into her eyes, to search for the real truth.

“We can fix it, Niki,” I said. “If you want, we can fix it.”

“I want it, Thomas. Oh God, I want it!”

And now, finally, she kissed me. Softly at first, her lips so full and sweet, then becoming hungry and her mouth opened and her tongue came seeking mine.

My head spun, my heart hammered in my chest, and all I could feel was Niki pressed against me. And then someone knocked on the door. We both tried to ignore it but the knocking came again, louder, more urgent.

We drew apart and Niki looked at me. “It’s Desi,” she said. “I’ve got a plane to catch in a couple of minutes.”

“Where will you be?”

“Madrid. Until Saturday.”

“And then?”

Desi knocked again, and I could hear her voice shouting through the door. Something about the plane was not going to wait whoever she was.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Thomas.”

I stared at her, couldn’t think.

“Call me, Niki. Call me this week, when I can think properly.”

She kissed me again. Clung to me a moment then tugged away. “I have to go, Thomas, I’m sorry. I’ll call. I love you…”

Eventually I got up from the bed, washed my face in the bright bathroom, and returned to the revolving doors to find the same car that had brought me an hour ago still waiting. The driver was sitting on the hood smoking a cigarette, and when he saw me he crushed it under his foot and opened the rear door.

“I’ve got some luggage,” I said.

“Taken care of sir. It’s in the boot.”


“Sorry. In the trunk, sir. I picked it up for you, Mr. Harper.”

I nodded, still not fully come round from my session with Niki, and slumped down into the soft leather seats.

We drove out from the airport and picked up the highway into London. Over to my right planes continued to stack up and follow each other in, only minutes between each one.

The journey took most of an hour, traffic building as we got closer to the center.

“I’m staying at the Holiday Inn,” I said.

“I think that’s been changed, Mr. Harding,” he said.


“I’ve been instructed to take you to the Park Lane Hotel, sir. I believe your booking has been re-arranged.”

Niki, I thought, and smiled.


I worked. I’m sure it was not the best work I’ve ever done, but I’ve been doing it so long now I can manage on auto pilot through most of it. The company was a large multinational, the contract for a huge amount, and I did try, and as the week went on I was sure I would get better.

In the evening I wandered the streets of London, ducking in and out of narrow streets around Soho, some full of cafes and bars, some sleazy and lined with strip clubs and sex shops.

I kept my cellphone charged and waited for a call. Nothing came that day.


I walked through the park opposite the hotel, moving slowly, watching people jogging, cycling, riding horses.

My cell was in my pocket, and every now and then I took it out, checked for a signal, checked the battery was charged.

I went to bed early, lay under the covers watching the lights filter around the heavy drapes, car headlights reflecting and washing the ceiling.

I was starting to drift, hanging in that place between wake and sleep when my phone sounded and vibrated across the bedside cabinet. I jumped, grabbed it and pressed answer.

I lifted the phone to my ear and listened.


“Thomas.” It was her, her gently accented voice. I pictured a suite in Madrid, Niki sitting there. My Niki.

“I’ve been waiting, Niki,” I said. “I wasn’t sure you would call.”

“I needed to think, Thomas.”

“And have you?”


I waited, could not wait. “And?”

“You hurt me very much.”

“I know. And if I could take that back I would do it, in an instant. I never meant for that to happen.”

“But it did,” she said. “And I have to consider that. I have to consider what it would feel like if that happened again.”

“Niki, it will never happen again. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You do?” Her voice sounded young, uncertain.

“I do,” I said.

“I’ll call tomorrow,” she said. “Same time?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

She rang off. I looked at the phone for a long time, stroking the plastic case as though that could bring me closer to her, then I put it back on the nighstand and rolled over. Three minutes later the phone buzzed again. I rolled back and picked it up, but it wasn’t a call. I looked at the screen, saw there was a picture message, scrolled through and opened it.

It was Niki, sitting in her room. She must have placed the phone on a chair and used the timer. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, half turned away, completely naked, staring into the camera. Her face was serious, but beautiful.

I stared at the picture, drawing her image in like a thirsty man draws in water. It was Niki. Beautiful, unbelievable Niki.


I searched the web and discovered John Hiatt was playing playing in Hammersmith with the Goners, took the tube and managed to buy a ticket from a tout at four times face value and lost myself in loud rock, my ears ringing as I clattered back to the hotel through the hot underground network. Sitting in the carriage I took my cell out, knowing there was no signal down here, and saw a missed call, number withheld. It must have rung when I was in the theater, the music too loud for me to hear it, not feeling the vibration in my pocket.

I swore softly to myself, tried everything I knew to return the call as I walked back from the tube station to the hotel, but nothing worked.

Sticky from the gig I showered and climbed naked into bed. I poured myself two fingers of the good malt I had brought over, sipped it slowly, savoring the peaty aftertaste.

My phone rang and I picked it up to hear Niki sobbing.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong.”

“That Desi is a cunt, Thomas. She’s a bitch.”

“What’s the matter?”

“She keeps on and on about you. Keeps saying you would be a big mistake. Says you don’t really love me. You only want my money, want me because I’m rich. Tell me she’s lying, Thomas, tell me!”

“Of course she is, Niki. She’s jealous, she’s scared… she’s probably insecure. She’s known you a long time. You’re close. She doesn’t know what to make of me.”

“I don’t want to hear these things, Thomas, not about you. I know your heart. I know it!”

“Tell me about it, Niki… tell me all about it.”

She talked for twenty minutes, and slowly her sobbing eased and then stopped. Desi did sound as though she was being been pretty harsh, but I could understand why she felt that way, and I tried to calm Niki down, to make her understand that Desi loved her too, she had to believe that.

“She’s not really trying to hurt you,” I said. “She’s just scared.”

“But she is hurting me if she says I cannot be with you, Thomas.”

My heart pittered. “Is that what you told her you wanted?”


“And is that what you want, Niki?”



“Cross my heart, Thomas. I’m crossing my heart now, look…” I heard a click, the stupid electronic shutter sound phones make when they pretend to be a camera.

Then Niki hung up, and a moment later her picture came through.

She was naked again, facing the camera, her face still red from crying, one arm stretching out to hold the phone, the other across her perfect breasts, covering them.

The phone buzzed again, a text this time: “Sweet dreams, Thomas. I love you. xxx”


I was sitting in my room looking out over the park when my cell rang and I picked it up without looking at caller ID and said, “Niki!”


“Oh, Hi Lil. I was going to call you.”

I heard her laugh. “Yeah yeah, like you always do.”

I laughed back. “No, really, I was. I’m in London. I wondered if you’d like some company over the weekend before I fly home?”

“This weekend? Sure. You’re in London?”

“I believe so.”

“Wow, because I’m going to be in London tomorrow. I’ve got a strategy meeting in Westminster. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

“That would be wonderful. I’ll book you a room here,” I said,” You can stay over, we can catch up. I’ll come back with you Saturday.”

“Uh… OK. Yeah, OK.”

We chatted for ten minutes and I told her which hotel to come to, told her everything would be arranged when she arrived.

After we hung up I sat and looked at the phone, willing it to ring again. I sat for an hour, and still it was silent.

Outside the light had gone.

I poured myself some scotch, shaking the bottle and holding it up, suprised at how little was left, almost dropped it when the phone buzzed again. I snatched it up, but it was a text again from Niki.

“See what a cunt Desi is,” was all it said. Then I saw there was a picture attachment and opened it and my jaw dropped.

I don’t know how she’d done it, but Niki had sent me a photograph of Desi sitting on the edge of a bathtub, completely naked, one leg lifted up so her heel rested on the edge of the tub, her other leg stretched out. Her pussy was completely exposed as she drew a small razor over the outer lips of her labia, shaving herself. Her legs were slim and muscled, her waist tiny and her belly flat. Her breasts were much larger than Niki’s swinging pendulously as she leaned forward to see what she was doing.

Her dark skin glistened with water as though she had only that moment stepped from the shower.

I am shamed to admit I developed an instant erection. The picture was completely and utterly unposed, unbelievably erotic.

Then the phone rang again and I answered.

“What are you thinking of, Niki?”

She laughed. “You’ve seen it, then?”

“What they hell were you doing?”

“I know Desi always shaves after her shower. And I know when she showers. I just pretended I had forgotten something. We are not precious about being naked in front of each other, and Desi has shaved in front of me many times before. Serves her right,” she finished, her voice harsh.

“I’m going to delete this, Niki,” I said.

“No. Keep it, please?”

“But why?”

“I thought it might please you,” she said.

“It’s an invasion of Desi’s privacy.”

“But she is a cunt!” Niki said. “She has been awful to me all week. I want to see you, Thomas, so much, I want to see you this weekend. Will you still be in London?”

“I’ve just now talked with Lilly,” I said. “She’s coming here tomorrow, and then I’m going to Strasbourg with her Saturday.”

“Strasbourg. I’m in Paris. It’s not too far. Can I come too?”

“To Strasbourg? I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I want to meet your daughter. Is she wonderful, like you?”

“I like her,” I said, laughing.

“Then I’ll come to Strasbourg.”

“But Niki,” I said.

“What, Thomas?”

“No more pictures of Desi, promise?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“But I’ll have another one of you, if you want to send one,” I said.

“You like my pictures, Thomas?”

“I love them.”

“And I will see you on Sunday?”

“Yes,” I said.

When the picture arrived it was fifteen minutes later. When I saw it I realized why it had taken so long. Niki had position her phone at the end of the bed, and lay naked and exposed to the camera. Her long lean legs were perfectly smooth, her thighs slightly parted, one knee raised. Niki had one hand on her breast, her fingers open to expose her rigid nipple. Her other hand was on her belly, her long fingers lightly caressing her pussy lips. She was smiling, looking directly into the lens.

The phone buzzed again, a text: “Think of me like this. until sunday xxx”


It was a long, long day. I spent most of it wrapping the job up. The company, like all of them, believed its problems were unique, and I went along with the notion, made them feel special, then recommended the same things I did to everyone. Stop wasting money. Concentrate on your core business. Tailor your systems to your business and not the other way around. I think it went well, but as I left around six my mind wasn’t on the job anymore.

Lilly was arriving on the train at about the same time. We would both be making our way back through the early evening. Traffic was snarled up everywhere, hardly moving, and I took the underground again, packed in tight with thousands of others. Lil might have been ten feet from me in the same carriage and I wouldn’t have known it.

I checked she had not arrived, double checked she had a room booked and was assured she did, and that it was next door to my own on the eight floor.

I went upstairs and showered, spent some time deciding what to wear, finally picked a pair of dark linen slacks and a white linen shirt. I had bought both that week in one of the big stores on Oxford Street, surprised at how warm London had been. It was not my first visit, but the previous ones had been in Fall and Winter, and there had been rain and grey skies. Now, in late June warm winds blew up from over Africa and as evening settled in the temperature remained high.

I had booked a table at a small restaurant around the corner from the hotel for nine. I hoped Lil was not going to be late.

I sat in a chair and again looked out the window over the park. My cell was in my hand. But Niki had still not called.

It felt as though there had been progress over the week, but also worried that I had hurt her so much she didn’t want to risk that kind of pain again.

I didn’t know her number, had no way of contacting her. Maybe, just maybe, she might have left instructions to pass my messages through now, but even then I doubted Desi would pass them on.

I wanted a drink, but waited, watching the shadows lengthen under the trees in the park, watched people drifting around the open space, watched the heavy traffic, black cabs and red buses mill around Park Lane and the wide road out to the west.

When the phone trilled I jerked and pressed the answer button, but it kept on ringing and I realized it wasn’t my cell but the room phone. I dropped it first time, picked it up and said, “Hello?”


“Lil. Are you here?”

“Here and settled in. Arrived an hour ago. D’you want company?”

I laughed. It felt so good to hear her voice, to know she was next door. “Of course I do.”

“What room are you in, Dad?”

“809,” I said. “Next door to you.”

“Next…” she laughed. “They didn’t tell me that. Open up then.”

I put the phone down, walked across and opened the door and my beautiful daughter stood outside grinning and I opened my arms and hugged her, kissing the top of her head, smelling the shampoo fresh in her dark blonde hair. She hugged me back, tight, then a little tighter.

Finally she stepped back and looked at me. “You’ve lost some weight, Dad. Deliberate?”

I shrugged. “I thought, at my age, it couldn’t hurt.”

“Looks good,” she said.

I stepped back, letting her into the room, hugged her again. “God Lil, it’s so good to see you. How long’s it been now?”

She shook her head. “Couple of years, I guess. Hey, and thanks for the room. This is one cool view.” She stood at the big window looking out, and I watched her, noticing how she too had grown, had also slimmed down a bit.

Lil was in her mid-twenties now, just reaching her prime. She had been a slightly awkward, slightly plump kid. As a teenager she was more into class than boys, and we had worried about her, that she wasn’t making friends. But she had always been a happy kid, and I was glad my wife had lived to see her go to college, even if she hadn’t lived to see her graduate.

The French influence showed in her dress; cut just below the knee, elegantly styled. Her hair and nails and makeup were the same, giving an air of something European. If I saw her on the street, I would have never guess she was American. Even her accent was changing. I listened as she talked, telling me her news, telling me of her job and what it involved, how much she loved it, how much she loved living in Strasbourg, the European headquarters almost straddling the border between France and Germany.

“And you, Dad, you’re really OK?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. Same as ever, Lil. You know me.”

“No romance on the horizon?” She grinned. She had given me a couple of years after Angie died, but then she believed I needed to get back in the saddle. She bullied me, and I enjoyed it.

I shrugged in reply, not yet ready to tell her about Niki.

“How about you, Lil? Some good looking Frenchman swept you off your feet yet?”

She giggled. “Not quite…”

An odd look crossed her face and she sat in one of the big chairs looking out through the window. I walked across and sat across from her.

“What is it, Lil?” I asked. A father can sometimes read his kids – most often not, but sometimes – like an open book.

“You know me too well, Dad.”

“Always have,” I said. “So there is someone…?”


I waited, then said, “So…?”

She looked at me. I waited some more. She nodded.

“Yeah, there is someone.”

“What’s his name?”

She hesitated.

“Frankie,” she said at last.

“And? What’s he like. When do I meet him?”

“Her,” Lil said, and waited a long time, looking at me, searching for a reaction. “I call her Frankie, but her full name is Francoise. She’s French.”

“French,” I said, playing for time, getting my head around what she had just thrown at me. I wasn’t shocked, but I was surprised.

Lily watched me, this time her turn to wait. She watched and tried to judge my reaction, as I tried to judge it myself.

“So when do I get to meet her?” I said.

Lil smiled. “She’s next door. If you really mean it?” She had moved forward and was sitting on the edge of her chair.

I smiled at her, relaxing back in mine. “Of course I want to meet her.”

Lil jumped up, suddenly the elegance dropping away and she was my teenage daughter again. She skipped across and gave me a big hug, smacked her lips on top of my head. She left the room and I sat back and waited. It only took a moment and then she returned, accompanied by a slim dark haired woman of her own age. They were holding hands.

“Dad, this is my special friend, Francoise.” Lily announced.

I stood and offered my hand. Francoise smiled and shook it, then approached me more closely and offered her cheek. First one, then the other, finally back to the first. Very French.

“I am pleased to see you, Mr. Harper,” she said, her voice heavily accented, words cut off at the ends, the Mr. very soft. “Lily has told me so much about you. I really wanted to meet you.”

“And I want to hear all about you as well, Francoise. And please, call me Thomas.”

“Thomas? You’re sure?” She said my name with the start slurred, the end missing.


She smiled, and I could see why my daughter was in love with her. She was very beautiful, her dark hair cut very well and very short, brown eyes large and sparkling, her skin bronzed and smooth.

“And you must call me Frankie, the same as Lily does.”

I laughed. “You’re going to join us for dinner, Frankie, yes?”

“English food?” she asked, pulling a face.

“I booked a table in a small place nearby. But it’s Italian. Will Italian be OK?”

She smiled. “Did you know that it was really the Italians that taught the French how to cook? When most of Italy was part of France?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know that, Frankie.”

We walked around the hotel, down a quiet tree lined street and found the restaurant. I had booked for two, but one extra was no problem, and we were shown to a good table at the window looking out over the sidewalk. Two good looking women sitting in your window, there was no better free advert.

Frankie told me about her childhood, her parents who were still both alive and lived on the West Coast near Nantes. Lil told me how they had met, skipping over any explanation of her sexuality, although I was curious about when she had known she preferred women to men. It didn’t bother me, not in the least, but I was curious. Most men, I guess, would be.

They were a real couple. Exchanging glances, touches and brushes of arms, and I could see the light in both their eyes when they looked at each other.

The meal, as it turned out, was superb. We drank more wine than we should, and over cheese the conversation turned back to me, and Lil said, “So, Dad, you were being very enigmatic before. Have you met someone or not?”

“I might have…” I started to say and was interrupted by my cell. “Sorry,” I said, glancing at the screen. Number withheld.

“Take it,” Lil said.

I glanced at her and nodded, pressed the answer button.

“Thomas Harper,” I said.

“Thomas,” Niki said. “I think I’ve missed you even more this week because I have been talking to you. I tried to call you earlier but you did not answer. I was worried. I love you, Thomas.” It came out in one rush, and I thought of her sitting, tense, worried I might have changed my mind.

“Niki,” I said.

“Tell me you love me too, Thomas. I need you to tell me, please.” Her voice sounded strained, and I pictured her alone in a hotel room in Spain, coiled tight.

“You know I do, Niki,” I said.

“Tell me then.”

“I love you, Niki. I love you so much.”

“How much, Thomas?” There was a catch in her voice.

I saw Lil and Frankie trying not to make it obvious they were listening, talking softly among themselves, but aware of me.

“More than anything. More than anyone ever before.” I said.

I heard Niki sigh over the line, her voice crystal clear despite passing through God knows how many miles, how many satelites and exchanges.

“I will meet you in Strasbourg, Thomas. Ask your daughter now. Is she with you?”

“She is,” I said, and looked across at her. “Lil, Niki wants to come to Strasbourg. I’ll get us a room somewhere, but she’d like to meet you. Meet you both.”

Lilly smiled. “That would be wonderful, Dad. And she must stay with us.”

“You sure? There’s room?”

Lilly looked at me. “I am assuming you’ll be sharing a bedroom?”

I might have blushed. “You assume right.”

“In that case she has to stay.”

“Did you hear any of that?” I said into the phone.

“All of it,” Niki said. “And I look forward to sharing a bedroom with you again, Thomas.”

“Me too,” I said.

“You mean it, Thomas?”

“I mean it.”

I heard voices in the background behind Niki, then silence as she put her hand over the phone. When she came back she said, “I have to go, Thomas. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can arrange where to meet. I love you.”

“I love you too, Niki.”

I thought she’d gone, but then she said, “I believe perhaps you do, Thomas.” Then she really was gone.

I slipped the phone back in my pocket, looked up to see my daughter and her lover staring at me, heads cocked in expectation.

I cut a slice of soft brie and spread it on a corner of bread.

“Da-ad!” Lil said.

I chewed slowly.

“Who was that?”

“A friend,” I said.

“A special friend?” She was trying not to grin.

“Could be,” I said.

“Tell me.”

So I did.


We took the train early from London, dipping down beneath the English Channel and came out into gray fog which cleared slowly as we sped south, the train traveling at over 180 miles an hour through flat countryside. We changed trains in Paris, seeing nothing of the city, and then sped east.

I had offered to get a hotel room for Niki and myself but Lilly insisted we were to stay with her and Frankie. She had a spare bedroom, and there was no way she was going to miss out on the chance to meet this new woman of mine. I had explained that Niki was a lot younger than me, and Lil had just grinned and said “Good. Because you’re young inside too, Dad.”

By mid afternoon I had unpacked my few things in Lil’s spare bedroom. Her apartment was in an old stone building overlooking the river which formed the boundary between France and Germany, although to listen to Lilly and Frankie talk national boundaries were now a thing of the past in Europe.

The apartment was large with tall windows, wooden floors and clean furnishings.

On their own territory Lilly and Frankie were more relaxed. They changed into clothes suited for lounging around, Lil in sweatpants and tee shirt, Frankie in a French equivalent that clung more tightly to her narrow hips, draped more softly over her breasts. I tried to avoid looking at her, but it was difficult, and though I guessed she knew I was doing it she didn’t seem to mind much. She was easy to look at, and I felt guilty for sizing up my daughter’s girlfriend while I waited for my beautiful Finn to arrive.

Still, I was a man, and there are times when we can barely help ourselves, so I spent a pleasant hour sitting on Lil’s couch watching my daughter move around preparing an evening meal, watching as Frankie helped her, admiring the smooth curves of her legs, her ass tightly embraced inside the black material of her pants that looked little more than tights. She has a small, rounded ass and I noticed when she turned how the material clung against her pussy, cupping a pronounced mound. I imagined her with my daughter. Imagined what they did with each other, and tried not to get turned on by the images. Tried and failed.

Just after four my phone rang but it was a text, brief and to the point, Niki telling me she would be arriving Sunday morning at 10. I tried to text her back to say I would be there, but again her number was blocked.

I was nervous and edgy so I went out and wandered the town, drifting through the older parts, then finding the new government buildings and admiring their architecture. Eventually I found a park on the river, with a modern footbridge and simply had to cross it, walking over the green deep water of the Rhine into Germany just to say I had been there.

On the way back I found a small cava and bought six bottles of wine, a mixture of white, rosè and red as I wasn’t sure what the girls would like. When I arrived back at Lil’s apartment it was early evening and they had started laying out the meal. I put some of the wine in their large refrigerator, left the reds out to warm, kissed Lil on the cheek and then, when she tapped her own face meaningfully, repeated the kiss for Frankie.

They both looked happy, relaxed and at ease with each other. As they passed they touched, sometimes lightly and casually, other times more meaningfully. I tried not to stare as Frankie slid her hand down inside my daughter’s track bottoms and held her ass cheek in her palm. I wondered if they were becoming used to me in the apartment. It must have been strange for them, having someone else around, particularly when that someone else was a father.

Lil and I had always enjoyed an open relationship. She knew her mother and I enjoyed sex. She knew I had had lovers after her mother died. She had never been shy around me, and growing up, as a kid she was often naked, and as she moved into her teens and I expected her to grow more conscious of her body she didn’t. I recalled a summer vacation, before Angie had died, the four of us staying at a beach house and both of them, Lil seventeen, John fifteen, Angie and me, then about forty, would wander around naked, swim in the sea, lounge on the beach, our house isolated enough that no-one overlooked us. They had seemed innocent enough times then.

I came back to the present to find the table laid, the food prepared and Frankie holding out a bottle for me to open.

I laughed. “What do you do when there’s not a man around?”

“I am French, of course, Thomas. We are weaned knowing how to open wine. But why waste a man when I have one around?” she said, smiling back, white teeth flashing in her dark face.

I poured for each of us and we ate around the table as the light faded over the river and streetlights came on. They both pumped me for more information about Niki, and Frankie said she thought she knew who she was. Lil had never been into fashion, but I thought that might be changing under Frankie’s influence.

By the time we finished eating it was full dark and the night was traced with patterns where streets ran and twisted. I helped the girls load the dishwasher and then we switched to red wine. They curled up together on the sofa, and I debated whether to leave them to it, but I felt relaxed, a little drunk, and instead leaned back in one of the large easy chairs, my legs stretched out.

They knew I was there, sitting off to the side, pooled in darkness away from the one lamp still lit, but they were also too aware of each other. I saw Frankie take Lil’s hand and lift it to her mouth, kiss the palm and hold it against her cheek. I saw my daughter smile and slide down on the sofa and lean into her lover. I saw Frankie slide her hand down along Lil’s thigh, and slowly Lil returned the move.

They slumped like that for several minutes, then Frankie’s hand began to move, drifting up, slowly, teasingly, until her fingers brushed against my daughters upper thigh. Lily moved, not away but towards, and her own hand started to move. Frankie’s tighter pants hugged her pussy, and had pulled tighter as she slid lower on the sofa. The thin dark material now clung against her, her mound prominent, the faint trace of her slit showing.

Frankie’s thin top could not hide her stiffening nipples.

I sipped at my wine, and found my glass empty. I debated whether to fetch more, or stay where I was and watch. I must admit it was turning me on. I should have felt some measure of guilt, watching my daughter being fondled by her lover, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. A foreign city, the wine, my mood, something…

I stood up, said, “More wine?”

They turned to me, not surprised. They knew all along where I had been. Maybe they just hadn’t cared.

“Mmm, please Dad.” Lil held her glass up to me. Frankie finished hers and held it out.

I took the three glasses and poured more dark red wine into them. When I turned back their heads were moving apart, and I guessed they had kissed.

“Your wine,” I said.

They took their glasses and I deliberately looked at my watch. It was gone eleven.

“D’you mind if I turn in? I’m bushed after the last week, and the journey.”

“Of course, Dad,” Lilly said. “I should have thought.”

“‘Night then,” I said and Lilly got up and kissed my cheek. I was turning away when Frankie rose as well, shorter than my daughter, slimmer and trimmer.

“Moi aussi,” she said softly.

I offered my cheek, but she managed, somehow, to get her lips half on my mouth as well.

I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and washed, said goodnight again as I slipped back into the living room. They were tangled together on the sofa, hidden by shadows as I went into my bedroom. I was about to shut the door when I heard Frankie say, “Ton père est gentile”, and Lilly laughed softly and said, “Yeah, he’s cool.”

I closed the door quietly, stripped off, stood for a moment looking down at my cock in its semi-aroused state. It was so tempting to stroke myself, but I wanted to wait for Niki, needed to wait for her, so I sighed deeply and slid in between smooth cotton sheets and tried to sleep. But it was a long, long time before oblivion came.


I rose early, nervous, and slipped out of the apartment and caught a cab to the station. There had been no sign of the girls but the living room still carried the scent of their lovemaking.

I ate breakfast in the station cafe then bought an American paper, Saturday’s. At just before ten I wandered out onto the station concourse and looked around. They called Niki’s train arrival, Paris to Strasbourg, and while the announcement still echoed there she was, tall, standing out above the crowd. Her long blonde hair was tied up behind her head and she was dressed in a sweatshirt and blue jeans but she still looked wonderful and drew the eyes of every man in the station, and a few of the women as well.

She saw me and stopped, her face blank, then she grinned and ran towards me. I met her halfway. She dropped her small overnight bag and threw herself at me, almost knocking me flat. She clutched my face and pulled my mouth towards her, kissed me hard.

When she pulled back she looked deep into my eyes, studying me.

“I’ve missed you, Thomas.”

“I love you,” I said.

She smiled shyly. “Good. Now, take me to meet your daughter. Tell me all about her.”

We found a cab and I gave Lil’s address. As we turned through the streets of Strasbourg I told Niki about Lilly, and about Frankie. Niki showed no surprise, only asked, “And do they love each other?”

“I think they do,” I replied.

“And you are… OK with this?”

“I think so,” I said.

She nodded with more certainty than I felt. “I know you will be, Thomas. That is who you are. You are so… understanding, of all things. And you understand love, I know that well.”

“I hope so.”

“And you understand love between all people. Men and women. Women and women. Men and men. You accept.”

“I try.”

What I did not try explaining was how I had felt, watching my daughter and her lover, wondering if, had I stayed, they would have made love to each other even though I would be watching. Now, in the light of day, the idea seemed ridiculous. But last night, in the dark, slightly drunk, aroused, it had seemed that if I had not moved that would have happened. It made me uneasy, made me question myself.

And then, I started to say that to Niki, because I felt had to. Finding her again I wanted no secrets from her. None at all. Nor her from me.

Niki held my hand and listened, watching me, smiling.

“You feel bad, Thomas?” she asked when I finished.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I didn’t. It was almost like it wasn’t real. But today…” I shrugged.

“Did you…” she stopped, her turn now to search for words. She looked at me, and I saw her making a decision. “Did you want to fuck your daughter, Thomas?” Her face was serious.

“God, no!” I cried.


I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that, Niki, not at all.”

“It happens,” Niki said.

I could still not fully read her mood, couldn’t tell if she was disgusted or accepting.

“Not to me,” I said.

“But you think she’s beautiful?”

“All father’s think their daughter’s are beautiful, Niki.”

“When you thought about them together, did it excite you?”

I looked at her, trying to decide whether the truth was the right thing or not.

“You were,” she said, looking back, and she smiled. “You were excited to think about your daughter fucking!” She almost seemed delighted at the idea.

“Maybe. I guess,” I said.

“It’s OK, Thomas. Do you remember, a long time ago, when we first met, I said anything is OK as long as no-one gets hurt? It’s OK to get excited watching your daughter and her lover. It would be OK to want to fuck her too, but I believe you when you say you don’t want that. I fucked my brother once.”

I stared at her, and I’m sure my mouth fell open. “Your brother…?”

“Only once,” Niki said. Her eyes took on a far away look as she thought back. “We were young. I was just eighteen. He was almost twenty. He is very good looking, and I was curious. It was fun…” She shrugged as if it had meant nothing to her.

“Fun,” I said.

She looked at me. “Yes, fun. I enjoyed it. And, Thomas, I don’t feel bad about it. It was fun, and it never happened again, but if we had wanted to we probably would have, but the situation never came up, I went away, he got married. He’s got kids now. He’s very happy.”

“That’s good,” I said, but my head was spinning again, still rolling with thoughts when we pulled up and walked into Lilly’s apartment block.

It was close to midday, and when the door opened Lilly stood there in a skirt and blouse with a cotton apron, flour on her cheek.

“Niki?” she said, looking over at my tall companion.

Niki nodded. “Lilly?”

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Lilly said, and opened her arms. Niki stepped inside and they hugged, kissing each other on the cheek.

“Frankie, they’re here,” Lilly called and her lover appeared, repeated the greeting, then they both turned and kissed me. It was an all out love-fest, I thought.

Niki went with them into the kitchen area and I carried her small bag into the bedroom, dropped it on the bed and stood there for a moment, thinking about later on, when we would be alone, and feeling myself grow hard again at the thought, a tiny worry still at the back of my mind.

When I returned they were all talking together, in French, laughing and giggling. Niki was sipping a glass of white wine and after Frankie said something she turned around, twirling for her, and they hugged.

“Frankie says she’s been to some of my shows,” Niki said, turning to me.

“A fan,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as grumpy as I felt.

Niki laughed, not picking up on my mood. “I don’t think so. But she said she recognized me as soon as I came in.”

“Small world,” I said.

“It is these days,” Niki said and turned back to her new best friends.

I tried to cheer myself up, told myself not to be stupid. I was feeling jealous, I realized, and wondered what I had been expecting: Niki and I to fall on each other as soon as we got through the door? I was still hugely frustrated from last night, and I needed release badly, but Niki wasn’t to know that, and I guess it was good she liked Lilly and Frankie. I guessed so.

I tried to still my mind, watching the three women, animated, each beautiful in their own very different way. Niki towered above them, elegant and assured even dressed in her sweatshirt and jeans. Lilly was four inches shorter, carried more weight around her hips and waist, her dirty blonde hair styled but lacking the perfection of Niki’s. Frankie was a couple of inches shorter again, slim, boyish, her hips non-existent, her bust hardly showing through her cream tee shirt. Each of them beautiful, each on them enchanting.

I wiped my mind clear of thoughts and drifted. It was a meditation technique I had learned years before, and tried to apply it again. Every time a thought intruded I watched it, let it drift untouched until it died.

Slowly my sense of betrayal faded. Slowly my jealousy disappeared.

I smiled. My girls. My lovely girls. And I was glad they were getting along, even if my rudimentary language skills meant I understood hardly anything they said. Niki’s French seemed good and they spoke quickly, words spilling rapidly from each of them. Words popped out and I grasped them, but they had no context amongst the underlying babble. Pere… il est tres bon… I let it wash over me, wash me clean of the bad mood until at last lunch was ready and we sat at the table and opened more wine and they switched to English so I was included.

Niki sat beside me, Lilly and Frankie opposite, and we ate salad and drank more wine than was good for us, laughed at lot, told each other stories about our past, each of us trying to outdo the others for shock value.

The meal stretched on into the afternoon, more wine was opened and consumed, and it was almost five before we got up from the table and made our way back to the seating area.

“You and Niki have the sofa, Dad,” Lilly said, and she dropped into one of the big armchairs and Frankie sat across her knee, light as a feather.

Niki sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her and I sat and she hugged me then kissed me.

“I hardly knew what to do with myself this week, Thomas. I kept thinking about you all the time. Everyone wondered what was wrong with me.”

“I was the same,” I said. “This might be the worst job I’ve ever done.”

“But we’re here now,” she said, hugging tight against my side, her slim strength pressed against me, and I felt my muscles relax all at once and I almost cried. I lifted my arm and she slid in against me, lifted a leg and laid it across my lap.

I glanced across but the girls were talking softly, engrossed in each other. I turned back to Niki and kissed her, a real kiss, our first since meeting at the station. It lingered, and we explored each other slowly.

When out lips eventually parted Niki put her mouth against my ear and whispered, “I want you to fuck me, Thomas. I want you to fuck me so much!”

I smiled and kissed her again. “We’d better make some excuse then,” I said. I touched her breast lightly through her sweatshirt, remembering the feel of them naked under my hands in Miami.

“They would know what we are going to do,” Niki said.

“I think they might guess.”

I looked across the room, only ten feet separating us. As if she knew of my attention, Frankie turned and smiled, nudged Lilly and said something softly to her. Lilly nodded.

“Dad, would you think we’re being really anti-social if we went to my room for a while? I’ve had too much to drink, and I need a sleep.”

“Of course not,” I said. “This is your home, Lil, don’t make any changes just because we’re here.”

Lilly smiled, an edge to it, and I knew she could never do what I said. If we hadn’t been there the pair of them would now be naked on the floor, fucking each other’s brains out. But we maintain the social niceties, pretend we’re civilized.

“Will you be OK?” Lilly asked. “I feel kind of bad abandoning you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Niki replied. “I’m tired too. Journeys always do that.”

Lilly nodded, agreeing. She gave Frankie a nudge and then stood herself once her lover had climbed off her knees. They gave us another glance, a smile, then went through to their bedroom and closed the door.

“Your daughter is wonderful, Thomas,” Niki said. “And very understanding.” She put her hand flat on my belly, leaned over and opened her mouth over mine, her tongue probing hard.

I was first to break the kiss, and stood up, offered her my hand and she smiled, took it, and I led her into the bedroom.

Niki dropped back onto the bed, arms wide, long legs stretched out.

“Fuck me then, Thomas. Fuck me now.” There was an edge of desperation to her voice. “No one has touched me since Miami, Thomas. I have not even touched myself. I waited. I have been waiting for your touch.”

I laughed. “I have a picture you sent me where you’re touching yourself.”

“Oh that.” Niki blushed. “But I didn’t do anything… I wanted to, I almost did, but I wanted to wait. I had decided, that I had to be with you, Thomas.”

“Niki,” I said, my voice catching. I lay beside her, held her breast in my palm.

She kissed me hard, and I felt her hands drop to my belt and fumble at it. She lowered her head, worked my buckle loose and tugged at my zip. She opened my pants, slid her hand inside and I felt her touch my rigid cock and I jerked and shivered.

“Careful,” I whispered. “It’s going to be real quick if you’re not careful.”

“Don’t want to be careful,” Niki hissed. “Be as quick as you like, Thomas. That would excite me.” She tugged at my pants, pulling them down my legs and as she freed them I looked over he shoulder at the window, drapes open. But we were high up, the view out over the river distant. And if someone on the far hill was watching with binoculars, good luck to them. It seemed more exciting, in the early evening brightness, to have Niki pulling my pants off.

Then Niki pulled on my shorts, tugging them hard and freeing my cock and it sprang out and slapped on my belly and she reached for it and lowered her head and pulled me into her mouth. I almost came instantly then, but held Niki’s head and pulled her away. She resisted and I pulled harder, and finally my cock jerked free with a small pop as she tried to keep me inside her mouth.

Niki’s head shook. “I want to make you cum, Thomas.”

“Too soon,” I said.

“Not too soon. I want you to let go, Thomas, let go and cum in my mouth. Now.” She pulled her head from my hands and took my cock into her mouth again.

Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue played around my glans, pressing against it, pushing down into the slit in the top. She sucked me in, deep inside, and again I thought back to Miami, to the way she could swallow my whole length, and she did it again now, letting me touch the top of her throat, letting me push down inside and her lips pressed against my pubic hair and she sucked tighter, forming a deep vacuum and I knew it was impossible to hold on.

I groaned and felt my balls churn, felt the pressure I had been holding back for months release and the cum exploded from my cock and shot deep into Niki’s throat. She swallowed, lifted back, let me spurt again into her mouth, kissing my cock as I came, splashing against her perfect lips, splashing against her cheek and chin, holding my cock as I cried out and jerked, kissing me as I let a final small jet fly, sucking me back inside her mouth as I started to soften, continuing to suck me until the softening stopped and I began to grow hard again.

When she was satisfied I was ready, she lifted up and kissed me, her mouth slippery with my cum.

“My turn,” she said, and I felt her mouth grin against mine. “Fuck me now, Thomas. I have been waiting as well.”

She rolled off the bed and stood, drew her sweatshirt over hear head to reveal her naked breasts, her nipples already hard and long. She pulled at her jeans and tugged them down to reveal tiny white panties, their front soaking, then tugged those down as well.

She leaned over me, pulling at my shirt and I helped her remove it, then she straddled me, feeling for my cock with her hand and guiding me into her. She was tight but slippy and I felt a moment’s resistance and then the wonderful warmth of her pussy enclose me. She sank down, moaning softly as I filled her, sank fully onto me and I kissed her again, kissed her perfect breasts.

She rocked against me, her movement growing faster quickly, rocked and moaned.

“Yes,” she grunted. “I have been waiting too, Thomas. Quickly… yes… make me cum quickly… uhn.”

It was moments, no more than three minutes after I filled her that she cried out and trembled against me, clutching at my shoulder, my arms, my chest, bucking hard against me and I felt a warm gush as she squirted against me, felt it drip down my thighs.

Niki collapsed against me, breathing hard, planting tiny kisses on my face.

“More,” she said, “I want more… yes?”

I nodded and kissed her back. “As much as you want.”

She laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“As much as you want,” I repeated.

She lifted off me slowly and my cock sprang free, cool in the air of the room.

I gripped Niki’s waist and turned her around so she was on her back, her hips over the edge of the bed, then knelt between her legs and started to work on her. I tasted her sweet liquor, tasted my own cock on her pussy, licked her and teased her, tugged her clitoris inside my mouth and sucked on it, lifted her hips higher and dipped my head and let my tongue explore her asshole and she cried out.

I kissed her thighs, her belly, her hips, her beasts, the full underside of them, their sides, their tops, I kissed her fingers and arms, lifted her arm and kissed the smooth skin beneath it, kissed her neck, her throat, her ears, her eyes and nose and mouth. I couldn’t get enough of her. I turned her on her side, kissed her back, her feet, her ass, the muscled curve above her buttocks.

Finally I returned to her pussy and kissed it softly, lingering on her full labia, pecked her inner thighs, let my hand slide back and stroked the indentation of her asshole, pushed a finger just into her ass and then I pushed my tongue deep inside her pussy and made her cum again.

I kissed her legs, but when she tried to move I pushed her back down and pushed my tongue inside her pussy again, then when she was ready lifted myself up and slid my cock inside her and fucked her hard until she cried out again. Before she finished twitching I pulled out and knelt over her shoulders and turned her around so her head hung back over the edge of the bed and pushed my cock into her mouth, working myself in and out, feeling myself start to build again but I wasn’t going to cum in her mouth again, I was just fucking her for my own pleasure. Her hands gripped my ass and pulled me deeper into her mouth. I felt a finger search along my ass and find its target, felt her push hard until she entered my asshole, felt her push again and sink all the way inside. It felt good.

I reached up and found her pussy, wet and slick, and pushed my own fingers inside her, leaning back, my cock in her mouth, my hand inside her. She twitched and I thought she might have cum again.

Then I pulled out, pulled away and her finger came out of my ass and she lifted it to her mouth and kissed it and I grabbed her hips and rolled her over, her arms stretched across the bed, her legs wide, her perfect ass displayed for me, and I lowered my mouth and instantly found her asshole with my tongue and began to work it around, then pressed and pushed inside her, tasting her musky sweetness. My fingers found her pussy again, worked her, continued to work her until she bucked and gushed against my hand, and before she could recover I lifted up and slid my cock inside her pussy, pumping hard from behind.

Niki grunted and groaned, then muttered, “In my ass, Thomas. Fuck me in my ass…”

“Later,” I whispered into her ear.

“Uh,” she grunted, cumming hard. I felt her tighten around my cock but I continued to stroke in and out.

“No, now,” she grunted. “Fuck me in my ass now!,” she said between gritted teeth.

I pulled out of her pussy and looked down at the perfect beauty splayed before me, touched her lightly along the deep cleft between her buttocks, touched her lightly on her asshole.

“Here?” I said, teasing her with my fingertip.

“Fuck me there, Thomas,” she gasped.

I let my cock slide along her thigh, slowly, gradually reaching its target. I rested it on her tight rear opening, felt the slippery wetness from where I had been licking her, and pressed my hips forwards.

“Oh God yes, Thomas, like that…”

I pushed harder, feeling resistance, then the resistance suddenly giving way and my cock entered her asshole. I held her hips, pulling her against me, reached around and let her swaying breast slide against my palm, felt her hard nipple against my fingers. I grabbed her hips again, speeding even more, ready… ready…

“Ah!” she cried out, cumming again, I’d lost count of the number of times, and I released at the same time, jetting deep inside her, feeling my cum shoot deep into her bowel, knowing she could feel it too. She jerked and I twitched. She moaned and I grunted.

Slowly, we relaxed. I pulled back, my softening cock slipping out of her. She rolled over and lay on her back, her chest heaving. I leaned down and kissed her pussy, so wet, so sweet, then worked my way up her belly to her breasts, stayed a moment there, then her chest, her neck, her chin, her eyes, her nose, her mouth. Finally I slumped beside her, my hand on her thigh.

Niki and I lay side by side, touching each other lightly.

I turned to her and said, “What now, my love? Is this going to last?”

I felt her head shake. “Tomorrow I have to leave again. I am meant to be in Paris today, but I told them no, not until Mardi.” She pulled me against her and I kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t want to lose you again, Niki,” I said.

“I cannot be without you, Thomas. I have decided.”

“Decided what?” I said, my heart fluttering.

“I am going to stop doing this. It might take a while, a few months, there are commitments. But then I’m going to stop and be with you. Is that what you want, Thomas?” Her voice was quiet, soft.

“More than anything,” I said.

“And you?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“I can stop as well,” I said, then, “Where will we live?”

Niki rolled over on top of me, held my face and I could feel her tears dripping down onto my mouth. I kissed her, kissed the salt tears from her eyes, kissed her soft wide mouth.

“I don’t know. But it will be next to the ocean,” she said.

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