Hidden Paradise

chapter TWENTY-FOUR



Lou

“This isn’t quite what I expected,” Mac said a few minutes later. “It’s like having a large dog in bed.”

Rob lay between them, curled around his pillow, fast asleep and occupying half the bed and most of the covers. After that wonderfully sexy kiss, he’d smiled in a goofy, sated way, slid down Mac’s shoulder and fallen asleep like… Well, Lou had to admit Mac was right—like a puppy.

“And he’s got a hard-on again,” he added in disgust. “He’s like the Energizer Bunny. I should have jerked him off before he fell asleep on us. Or do you think he wants a teddy bear?”

“Stop grumbling,” Lou said. “I loved seeing you kiss him. Thank you for that.”

He rubbed his face, yawning. “I’ve got to admit, I did it for your benefit, but I felt, I don’t know, tender toward him. I don’t think it’s turned me gay. At least, so far I don’t feel like listening to Judy Garland or discussing window treatments.”

“He’s exhausted,” Lou said, “and he has to get up in a couple of hours, so be quiet and let him sleep. And while you’re at it, stop being such a crass homophobe.”

“Me, a homophobe? I’m in bed with you both, aren’t I?” He lay a hand on Lou’s hip, his arm across Rob’s shoulders. “I guess we should try to sleep.”

“I guess so. Big day tomorrow—I’ll have to get to Viv’s later in the afternoon to call my advisor right when the sun rises in the States. She’s on the East Coast and gets up early.”

“You could call from the office here, couldn’t you?”

“No, my advisor’s vacation phone number is in my bag at Viv’s. I don’t have the number memorized.”

His thumb caressed her hip. “At least I get you to myself when our personal footman leaves. My demoralized, shocked penis might be brave enough to come out of hiding by then.”

* * *

A FLASHING LIGHT AND A TINNY ringtone a couple of hours later catapulted Rob out of bed, and he swore copiously as he groped for his cell phone in the dark. More swearing and rustling sounds followed as he retrieved his boxers and shirt. The servants’ door clicked shut behind him.

Lou regarded Mac with envy. He was fast asleep, hands peacefully crossed on his chest, the sheet covering him up to his navel. And below that… Delightful. And she didn’t have to share or worry about circus acts.

She kissed him. His lips moved a little. “You awake?” she whispered.

No response.

She slipped her hand beneath the sheet and stroked, marveling at the satiny skin, even more tender than her kidskin gloves, stretched taut over the ridged power and strength. Strength and sweetness, such a wonderful combination. And the head, as smooth as velvet with its surprising ridge, all those textures and shapes within a wonderful few inches.

Her mind wandered. She could get a condom and slide herself onto him, waking him in the best way possible. Or not waking him, pleasure herself with slow, subtle movements.

A hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled. “Having lascivious thoughts about me again, Lou?”

“Yes. Feel how hard my nipples are.” She guided his hand. “And here, I’m wet.”

“Has the kid gone?”

“Yes.”

His fingers fluttered against her * and withdrew. “Good. Get a condom and slake your lust on me.” A yawn. “Just keep the help out, okay? I want you to myself. And you can damned well do all the work.”

She took her time with him, leaning to graze her nipples against his chest, watching his face as the room lightened with the dawn, revealing dark stubble on his cheeks and chin, the handsome jut of his cheekbones, his lips puffy still from kissing. He abandoned himself to her desire, lying so still that at one point she wondered if he was asleep, but his eyes opened, drowsy and mischievous. He tried to control his excitement, but she knew the signs now, and slowed deliberately if his hips lifted or his breathing quickened.

So sweet. She shuddered against him, her nipples scraping against his stubble, her hair falling around his face.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His eyes flickered open. “You’re welcome, honey.”

“Thank you for this, and for Rob. For being so sweet to him.”

“Glad to have been of service, ma’am.”

She stroked his face. “You were wonderful. I know you were out of your comfort zone.”

“I sure was. I did it for you.”

“I know. I love you for it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. I love you, Mac.” It was both painful and liberating to admit it.

“Good. I love you, too, but you know that, right? And now…”

He came to life with a lusty roar, tumbling her from his cock, turning her and slapping her butt. “You’ve had your fun! On your hands and knees now. You’re going to get f*cked within an inch of your life.”

She caught her breath as he pushed into her, hard and powerful, his hand raking from her nipples to her *, his mouth sucking hot at her neck.

“Like this?” he growled. “Hard enough for you?”

A few strokes, that was all it took, hammering into her, flesh slapping against flesh. She took care of her * when he gripped her hips to pump harder into her, filling her. An orgasm wrenched her seconds before he cried out and slowed, sweat dripping from his forehead to her shoulders.

She collapsed beneath him.

“What the hell was that?” he said in a whisper, and stroked her back tenderly. “That wasn’t sex, it was some sort of seismic event. You okay?”

“Great,” she mumbled, wishing she had words or energy to tell him more as he rolled off her and enfolded her in his arms. But there were three words that expressed her feelings, and she had to say them, now before she fell asleep: “I love you.”

* * *

A TAP AT THE DOOR WOKE HER next. She snatched Mac’s dressing gown and went to answer it. She’d overslept. The light outside told her it must be late morning. Mac rolled over, pulling the sheets over himself and a pillow onto his head.

Di was outside with a tray of tea. “Sorry, I’m late, ma’am. We’re all a mess after last night. There’s an extra cup here if you need it. Do you need any help with your gown this morning?”

She was relieved Di hadn’t brought two extra cups. “No, I’m fine, thanks.” The young woman looked exhausted, shadows beneath her red-rimmed eyes. “Are you okay?”

Di nodded, a tear sliding from one eye. She shoved the tray at Lou, stepping away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Come on inside,” Lou said. “Mac’s here, but he’s asleep. I’ll draw the bed curtains. Have a cup of tea with me.”

Lou poured them both tea at the table by the window.

“Sorry, I’ve got a bit of a hangover,” Di said. “It doesn’t help. My boyfriend broke up with me this morning. Well, last night. He texted me, but I didn’t get it until this morning.”

“That’s horrible,” Lou said, and remembered Di and Rob together last night.

But Di continued, “He said he was fed up with never seeing me and he’d found someone else.” She blew her nose on a well-used tissue from her apron pocket. “I was having such a great time here with Rob and Viv and everyone. Now everything sucks.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lou said. She put her hand over Di’s. “Had you been together a long time?”

“About a year. I know, it’s not long but I loved him. I thought he loved me. And now I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to stay here but I can’t go back to London.”

Lou said, “If I were to offer you some advice, I’d suggest you stay here. For now, anyway. People like you, and you have friends here. It’s a safe place to be sad, if that makes sense.”

Di sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, that does make sense. Thanks.” She drained her tea and stood, offering Lou a weak smile. “I’d better get going. You have anything to go back to Viv?”

“Only last night’s gown. I’ll take it back later.”

“Okay. Mind out, though, Viv’ll be like a bear with a sore head. She was really putting it away last night and she may have company. I’m keeping out of her way today.”

* * *

MAC WAS STILL ASLEEP WHEN LOU, showered and dressed, her ball gown over her arm, left the room. It was late morning, about 5:00 a.m. on the East Coast, and while her advisor was a notorious early riser, Lou thought breakfast and a quiet stroll over to Viv’s would take care of another hour. The house was quiet, a few footmen, yawning and with aprons over their livery, taking down last night’s wilted garlands from the pillars and staircase.

She stopped by the breakfast room, where another couple of footmen, tired and unshaven, slouched against the wall. It appeared few guests were awake and nearly everyone had been up until dawn. Helping herself to a roll and butter to eat on her walk across the grounds, she drank some more tea and suggested the footmen sit, since no other guests were present. They collapsed onto chairs like rag dolls. One of them rested his head on the table and fell asleep.

The grounds were even quieter, not a soul around. Her discovery yesterday now seemed almost like a dream. What was the story behind those few words? What other treasures might they yet find in those two, last unexplored rooms or in other houses in the neighborhood?

She reached the lodge and tapped on the door, remembering Di’s warning about Viv’s state of mind. After a few minutes, the door dragged open to reveal Viv with mascara-ringed eyes, her spiky hair on end, a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

Viv removed the cigarette and coughed for a good thirty seconds. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in.”

Lou followed her flapping kimono into the lodge. One of the footmen—Ivan, Lou thought—sat at the table, smoking and reading a newspaper.

“You,” Viv said to him, “out.”

“Don’t I get a cup of tea, then?”

“No, you bloody don’t. Sod off.”

“Okay,” the footman said, not sounding too upset about it. “Bye.”

“It’s always a mistake to let them stay over, even when they have a cock that huge,” Viv said, running water into her electric kettle. “Throw the gown into the hamper. I thought it looked good, if I say so myself.”

Lou explained that she needed access to her bag.

“Sure. I’ll make tea and get back to bed if you don’t mind. Take as long as you need.”

Lou thanked Viv as she directed her to the storage area where guests’ bags resided in wire cages, each with a padlock, and reminded Lou what her combination was. Then, yawning, Viv left to return to bed.

Ever since she’d known Julian, he’d had this bag. It was entirely impractical for travel, the leather making it too heavy, and it had no wheels. In addition, she now found, there was a new tear in the lining. She scrabbled around in the dark before taking the entire bag into the kitchen and wishing her notebook was not small and black and almost impossible to find. Her hand closed on something within the lining, her fingertips brushing the leather seam, a bundle of papers wrapped around something that, from its size, had to be her notebook. She placed it on the counter and unfolded the papers that she saw now were email correspondence.

Oh, Julian. The whole point of email is that you don’t print everything out. Isn’t the house full enough of your printouts and notes and lists, and none of them any good to me?

At first, she thought they weren’t his emails, since the one she chose at random was sent to an account unknown to her, not the university email he used for everything. She was about to throw them away, but she saw his name on them and picked a random page.





Julian, I can’t wait until I see you again. I’m lying here, thinking of you and how much I love you....





Love letters. She was reading love letters to her husband, some of which included his passionate responses. In growing disbelief, she looked at the dates. They were in order, starting the semester after she and Julian had married, and the first ones did use his university email account. He wrote to welcome someone called Christine to the campus and thank her for finding and returning his appointment book.

Christine.

Did Lou know her? She couldn’t recall anyone on campus called Christine.

A week or so later, the other email address was in use and the messages were about when they could meet. Some emails referenced attachments, which thank God he had not printed out, the very special photos Christine had taken with her cell. He’d written after one of these: “You excite me so much. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve told my wife the Wednesday-night committee meeting is still on, so usual place? I can’t wait.”

The lying bastard. She remembered the Wednesday-night committee meetings, but she also remembered a lot of sex with him, loving, inventive, frenzied sex. And all that time....

She read on. More meetings, more photos, more references to sex—in his truck at the side of the road, in his office.

And Christine’s contributions—short, sexy messages full of abbreviations and exclamation points. Christine used c*ck and c*m and f*ck as if the full words were too weighty for her smartphone or her intellect. She frequently forgot to put on underwear—“LOL.” And her spelling was bad, her grammar worse.

Sex standing up, sex on his desk, sex in Christine’s dorm room.

Her dorm room?

A student. No wonder students had played such a large part in Julian’s fantasies and Lou was suddenly overcome with guilt that she had encouraged them. She thought of those dirty games with a shudder of horror now.

Julian wrote, “Even though you’re not my student, we have to be careful because of campus ethics. My wife doesn’t suspect anything, but when I’m with her it makes me miss you even more and think about you all the time.”

Lou’s stomach lurched.

Some angry emails a little later on when Christine demanded more of his time and attention, and insisted that he get a smartphone so they could email each other at any time. Julian, technophobe that he was, had refused.

A series of messages, building in intensity, were about going away together to a conference.

Then a panic. “Don’t order your plane ticket. Lou says she might want to come with me. I’m doing my best to dissuade her. More later.”

Lou remembered that. Julian told her she’d be bored and that the conference location was not that great; but she’d welcomed a chance to write, order room service and test the capacity of the hotel bed with him. Christine apparently wanted those last two items, too. But their neighbor’s wife went into the hospital for surgery and Lou found herself helping with chores and cooking for them, so she’d stayed home. She and Julian were inexplicably short of money the following month and now she knew why—Christine’s airfare.

The next email detailed a pregnancy scare, and Lou decided she had read enough.

Her marriage had been a lie. All of it, a lie. And today, of all days, she’d learned the truth.

Passion…inconstancy.

She knew what she must do now.