Misspent Youth

  ANNABELLE LAY ON THE MATTRESS listening to her pounding heart as her body slowly calmed. The euphoria she’d experienced was still there, ebbing slowly. She could barely believe what he’d made her body do. But that was always the way with Jeff, each time a little further. Her own sexual curiosity was his greatest ally.

  A hand stroked the side of her face as he smiled down. She lay there passively, reveling in the way his greedy eyes savored the sight of her. “Now it’s your turn to enjoy me,” he purred.

  “Give me a minute,” she said, her breath still coming in shaky gasps.

  He gently pulled her hand down to his erect cock. “This won’t wait.”

  “How can you possibly still be hard after that?”

  “That’s the effect you have on me.”

  Annabelle raised her head up, pushing a slick tangle of hair from her face. She looked right into his eyes, experiencing a scary little thrill at how intent he was. After all they’d just done, he still wanted more of her.

  And she’d thought last night had been pretty excessive. Once they’d gone up to bed, with the lights off and the big house’s silence engulfing them, it was as if they were the only two people in the whole universe. They’d celebrated with a furiously physical union.

  Unlike Derek, who made hopeful suggestions, Jeff knew exactly what he wanted her to do. Any reticence on her part only seemed to excite him further. He showed her how the big bed with its sturdy posts could support her body in a whole variety of new contortions, each one deliberately lewd and sleazy. The oils he made her rub into her skin made her look sensational, and she knew it.

  In the end, he was the one person in the world she gave up every inhibition for. She relished proving that commitment physically. Proving she was the best.

  “We should go out and make love in the rain,” she suggested. It would be a sweet contrast to his earlier ferocity. From the middle of the bed she could see the drops splatter against the windows.

  “Nice idea,” Jeff said. “Except, that’s not rain, it’s a bloody deluge.”

  She snuggled back into him, enjoying the warmth and touch of his body. “Next time then.”

  “Yes.” He caressed her hair. “Next time.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as he ran a finger lightly down her flank, tracing the curve of her hip. There was an expression of gentle curiosity on his face, as if he’d never seen her before, never known how it felt to touch her skin. She loved that aspect of him, that he could be as kind as he could savage, always knowing the right time. “I spent the night with you,” she murmured in wonder. “The whole night.”

  “And you’re going to spend tomorrow night here as well,” he said. “And the night after that.”

  She smiled bravely, knowing that she’d have to go home then.

  Jeff tightened his grip around her. “And when Tim comes back, I’m going to tell him that you’re here to stay now.”

  “Jeff!” There was a small instinct that wanted to say no, that not enough time had passed to cushion the shock. But just looking at how serious he was quashed the urge. “Do you mean that?”

  “Dead on. And I’m sober this time, too.”

  She giggled, and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  “I’m the one who benefits from this. You are the perfect male fantasy.”

  “I know.” She grinned proudly, looking down at her breasts as she arched her back. “They are good, aren’t they?”

  “The biggest and the best.” His tongue moistened one nipple before he started sucking.

  She ran her hands over his chest, enjoying the supple play of his muscle. Then her fingers touched his cock; he was still erect. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

  Jeff pulled away from her breast just long enough to chuckle contentedly.

  “I mean it,” she said. “I’ve been with twenty-year-olds before. They’ve never managed to stay hard for so long.”

  “I’m not twenty.” He switched from one breast to the other.

  Despite herself, her body was responding; she moaned as indecent fingers started to massage her, sliding smoothly over oiled flesh.

  There was a firm knock on the door. “Dr. Baker, sir?” It was Lieutenant Krober’s voice.

  “He’s got to be fucking joking,” Jeff grunted.

  The knock came again. “Dr. Baker, please, are you there?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Sir, I believe you should come downstairs, sir.”

  “What the hell is happening?”

  “Sir, it’s downstairs. Please.”

  Annabelle pouted teasingly at the irritation on Jeff’s face. “You’d better go.”

  “Bloody hell.” He took a deep breath and clambered off her. She started giggling profusely as he tried to tie the belt on his dressing gown. His erection refused to ease. He gave it an exasperated stare, and wound up holding one hand across his front, pressing his cock against his abdomen.

  Annabelle squeaked in alarm as he stomped over to the door, just managing to pull the duvet over herself as he opened it. Lieutenant Krober was standing outside. Jeff had never seen the Europol officer so agitated.

  “What’s the matter? Are we in the middle of some kind of terrorist attack?”

  “Sorry, sir.” Krober was in no way looking through the bedroom doorway. “You should come downstairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Please. There is a situation there.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Jeff stomped off down the landing, with his hand still firmly covering his groin. His anger chilled rapidly as he started down the stairs. Voices were arguing heatedly in the hallway below. Tim was there, halfway across the black and white marble tiles. Tim! Jeff’s heart jumped in shock. His legs refused to move, imprisoning him on the middle of the stairs.

  The boy’s shirt and trousers were soaking wet; rat-tail strands of hair fringed his forehead. He was attempting to carry a huge cylindrical canvas bag with a strap that kept slipping from his wet shoulder. His other hand was pulling at the extended handle of a big gray suitcase with tiny wheels. Natalie Cherbun was standing in front of him, halfheartedly blocking his progress.

  “—no I won’t!” Tim yelled as he tried to barge past her. His luggage kept overbalancing, hampering his progress far more than the Europol officer.

  At which point Lucy Duke came through the front door. She was out of breath from having run all the way through the village from the White Horse. Water dripped steadily off her black classic-cut raincoat. She started shaking out her umbrella, an act that suddenly halted when she took in the scene before her.

  Tim shut up and glared at her. Then Lucy’s gaze lifted to Jeff. Tim’s body became very still. He slowly turned around. Jeff waited for his son to see him, knowing how a condemned man felt as the gallows loomed through the dawn mist.

  The expression of anger and betrayal on his son’s face drained away the last of Jeff’s strength. “Look, son—”

  Tim sneered at him. He’d never, ever done that before. Raged and sulked, yes. But this was so adult, so contemptuous that Jeff wanted to kneel down and beg forgiveness. Right there and then he would have handed Annabelle back if it was at all possible. An evil thought sprang up: Why not? She does everything else I tell her to. He pushed that away rapidly.

  “Now, why don’t we all take a moment to think what we’re all doing,” Lucy Duke said with brittle calm.

  “Fuck off, you stupid bitch!” Tim bellowed at her.

  “I don’t think that’s very helpful, now is it?”

  Jeff finally managed to get his legs moving again. He hurried down the last few stairs. “Tim, just wait up.”

  Tim dropped the shoulder bag, and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, this should be good. Go on, Dad, tell me why it doesn’t matter. Explain how we can all live happily ever after.”

  “We were going to tell you.” Even before it came out, Jeff knew that was completely the wrong thing to say.

  “Really?” Tim said with acid swe
etness. “How were you going to tell me? Would I have to access it on your life site? ‘Hello folks, I am now pleased to announce that I am screwing my son’s girlfriend’?”

  Jeff wanted to close his eyes, to cast the whole nightmare back into darkness. The way Tim was standing, his whole body quivering and moisture glinting in his eyes, Jeff couldn’t tell if he was going to burst into tears or simply go berserk and charge at him with a chainsaw. Natalie Cherbun was giving him a look of pure contempt, while Lucy Duke had tilted her head back in despair, no doubt calculating what kind of damage-limitation exercise was going to rescue this one. It was the only time Jeff had ever wanted to consult with her on anything.

  Still, he thought, at least I know the worst of it now, that he saw everything. So that’s good. A desperate laugh threatened to rise up his throat, one which would tail off into a crazed burble if he ever let it out. “What Annabelle and I do together is between us,” he said with false dignity. “We didn’t tell you about us because we didn’t want to hurt you. Tim, I know this is hard, but she’s not your girlfriend. She hasn’t been for a while now. We were going to let you get over the breakup, but we were going to tell you.”

  “How long?”

  “How long, what?”

  “How long have you been screwing her, Dad?”

  “Don’t, Tim, you’re only hurting yourself.”

  “Night of the Summer Ball, wasn’t it?”

  Jeff found Tim’s keen gaze slicing clean into him. He hadn’t thought it possible, but he was actually feeling even more wretched. His shoulders slumped in confession.

  “Yeah,” Tim breathed, bitter with triumph. “You really waited, didn’t you, Dad. Does Annabelle know what a bastard you are?” He gave his head a brief shake, as if suddenly puzzled. “What am I saying? She’s as bad as you; I saw that clearly enough.” He picked up his shoulder bag, and gave Natalie Cherbun a very determined look. She sighed and stood to one side.

  Tim walked across the hall, his big suitcase juddering and squeaking along behind him. Lucy Duke gave him an uncertain look.

  “Please,” Tim snarled at her. “Try getting in my way.”

  “Where are you going?” Jeff called.

  “What the fuck do you care, Dad?”

  “You haven’t even got a coat on. It’s pouring down outside.”

  “So? I don’t catch cold.”

  The dull certainty of his voice made Jeff draw in a gasp of surprise. He can’t know that… “Tim, you can’t just walk out. This is your home. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  Tim opened the front door. Raindrops swirled in, splattering on the marble around his feet. “That would be melodramatic as opposed to having an illicit affair? Did that make it more exciting for you both, Dad? Sneaking round behind my back.” A last contemptuous snort, and he closed the door.

  Jeff put his head in his hands. “Oh, shit.” All he could think of was that he now had to go upstairs and explain to Annabelle. Then there would be a call to Sue. And—oh God—Alison.

  Natalie Cherbun coughed discreetly.

  “What?” he snapped at her.

  She gave his waist a very pointed look. Jeff groaned in frustration, and pulled his robe over to cover his continuing erection.

  Natalie Cherbun and Lucy Duke looked at each other. And what must they be thinking?

  “We should consider how to minimize the media interpretation of this,” Lucy Duke said.

  “You can’t minimize a total fucking disaster, you—All right. Okay. Not now, all right? We’ll do press releases and site revisions later.” He got to the top of the stairs, then turned round. “Natalie, he probably respects you more than anyone else here right now. Could you go after him and give him a lift, please? Don’t stay with him afterward, just help him get there.”

  “Very well.” She nodded shortly, then paused. “Where?”

  “He’ll be going to his aunt Alison. And I know Tim, he’ll walk the whole bloody way there even in this rain.”

  “I’ll get him.”

  The bedroom door was closed. Jeff squared his shoulders, and opened it.

  “I HAVEN’T USED THIS ROOM FOR AGES,” Alison said as she showed Tim into the bungalow’s back bedroom. “It might need a little freshening up.”

  Tim looked around, and managed a small smile. The bed was covered in big cardboard boxes full of books, stacked three deep. Not that it mattered; there was no way to reach the bed anyway. More boxes and plastic storage bins were littering the floor, along with other stuff, intriguingly shaped items wrapped tightly in newspaper that was yellowed and crumbling. Polyethylene shopping bags were stuffed full of clothes, or at least bundles of fabric. When he looked down at his feet, he saw a pair of ancient hiking boots, so old the dark brown leather had dried out and cracked. It wasn’t the kind of footwear he would ever normally associate with Aunt Alison.

  “Ah, those,” she said wistfully, following his surprised gaze. “I’ve worn those on three continents, you know—other than Europe. Tramped along the Peruvian coast, marched up the Uluru rock even though you’re not supposed to, and wandered over the Serengeti. Good times, before the world went the way we know it today.”

  “Yeah,” Tim said miserably. “It’s a pretty rotten place now.”

  Alison’s arm went around his shoulder. “I was speaking in general terms, not what happened to you. Now, come on, let’s get some space cleared for you.”

  They stacked the boxes along one of the walls, making a precariously high half-pyramid. Other containers were taken out to the garage, once Alison had inspected them and reluctantly admitted she might not use them again. The rear wall of the garage wasn’t even visible, there was so much junk stored inside already.

  When they cleared the bed and she found him a clean duvet cover they went back into the living room. The storm had cleared, leaving the sun glinting brightly off the leaves and flowers in the unkempt garden.

  Alison settled herself in a deep old armchair and poured a large gin and tonic. Tim was sent to the kitchen to fetch some ice. The freezer was badly frosted up, with just a couple of packets inside, both of them ready-made meals for one, long past their expiration date.

  “What do you eat?” he asked when he came back with a few ice cubes clinking round in the glass. “There’s hardly anything in there to cook.”

  Alison took a long sip, and relaxed even further into the squashed nest of cushions. “The thing is, Tim, I don’t really do cooking. Never was much good at it, not even the microwave stuff. I either pop down to the pub, or get myself a takeout. You don’t mind having those kind of meals, do you?”

  “No. That’s fine.” Tim was perched on the corner of the couch, staring out across the big reservoir without really seeing it.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “I think you’re supposed to. All my friends who talk native psychobabble say you should rationalize events back to their origin point so you can acknowledge their structural integration within your life flow.”

  “Alison, that’s…that’s…such a load of crap.”

  “I know that.” She grinned at him, and took another sip. “What they actually mean is, don’t bottle things up. They only hurt for longer.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Dad’s got my girlfriend. What can you possibly say about that?”

  “We could start with how you feel about it.”

  “Feel? Feel! Alison, she was my girlfriend!”

  “I thought it was all over.”

  He let his head fall into his hands. “Yeah, well. It was over because he moved in on her. I found that out today.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “Was that a joke?”

  “Let me put it this way. If it had been anyone else—anyone—other than Jeff, would you be surprised that Annabelle had found herself a new boyfriend?”

  “No. Suppose not. She’s so beautiful. Why, are you taking his side?”

  “No. I think what he’s done is de
spicable. It’s not something I’ll ever forgive him for, either. But knowing my big brother, I have to say I’m not surprised. And if you can withstand one more observation: I always thought Annabelle was sort of flighty.”

  “What do you mean, flighty?”

  “Let me put it this way, I don’t think the two of you were ever scheduled to get married and live happily ever after. I know she was the prettiest girlfriend you’ve had so far; and I know this is what I said last time, but you’ll find someone else just as nice. No, scratch that, nicer. Let’s face it, Tim, it takes two to tango. She’s not exactly innocent in all this, now, is she?”

  “No.” It came out as a hugely sullen grunt. “Suppose not.” He really didn’t want to examine that part of it. Simon was right about her. And she did to me exactly what she did to him.

  “You want a drink?” Alison asked.

  He was tempted. Just wash her out of his mind, his life, with a huge flush of drinks or synth8. The one thing he’d promised himself he would never do again.

  Because Annabelle didn’t like it.

  There were synths that would make this a whole lot easier to handle. Taking them would be so simple, making his life a pleasurable thing once more. He just had to stop being true to himself.

  With every cell in his body screaming to say the opposite, he said: “No thanks, Alison, my head’s in a big enough mess as it is.”

  “Tough it out, eh? Good for you.” She took another big sip of her gin and tonic. “Have you told your mother yet?”

  “No.” He shifted around as if the sofa was suddenly crawling with ants. “I was sort of wondering if you might do that.”

  Alison cocked one eyebrow at him. “How long till you leave for university?”

  “YOUR SISTER IS CALLING,” the domestic computer said.

  “Put her on.”

  Alison’s face filled the big living room screen. At the best of times that scale was intimidating. With a scowl on her face she appeared more than a little frightening.