Lustfully Ever After Page 8

  “Didn’t touch you,” replied sister two, laughing.

  “I know you didn’t. Something—ouch!”

  “What?”

  “Well, that felt like an elbow in the tits.”

  “Lily, have you been drinking?” asked Gina disapprovingly.

  Man, she is so uptight. “No, Gina. It’s the crystal meth kicking in.”

  I caught a waft of masculine scent, as distinct as the aroma of someone nearby. Confusingly, no one was nearby. I breathed deeply, thinking, since ours was a walk through history and mist, perhaps they surrounded us, the faces of the lost, the drowned, and the long gone, ghosts of boatmen, brawlers, merchants, and dredgers from an era when the city stank and the river banks were sludge.

  At the halfway point, when we met our men, I pressed a kiss to the lips of Leander, looking askance at Gina who was drawn close by her Gilchrist, his hand cupping her ass as they embraced. A knot of pain and jealousy pulled below my heart. In his arms, she was as stiff as a board, recoiling from the kiss he sought.

  I saw his face tense with a moment’s impatience before he regained his composure. He’s such a gent—although actually, he isn’t. At least, not when it counts, if you know what I mean. He probably would have dumped Gina ages ago if I hadn’t given him hope. Oh, idiot, idiot me. If I’d thought more about the consequences, I’m sure I wouldn’t have done it.

  Well, to be honest, that’s probably not true. When I’d stumbled upon Gilchrist in the cloakroom, I was so horny and restless, frustrated by Leander’s permanent primness. Leander treats sex like it’s a big deal, as if me fucking him means I might want his babies. But I don’t care for him that way. He doesn’t make my heart sing. I’d simply like a shag every now and then till I’m ready to settle down with someone I love. The problem is, I can’t imagine ever wanting to commit to monogamy. I like men too much to limit myself to one. Plus, I’m so accustomed to hanging out with eleven that coupledom is a lonely prospect.

  Maybe Gilchrist could make me respectable, but he’s my sister’s boyfriend and I am evil and wicked for having such unsisterly thoughts.

  And Gilchrist, unfortunately, was a man sustained by hope. He still acted as if Gina was The One. I appreciated his spirit but at the same time feared he didn’t know when to quit. Determination’s an admirable quality, but blind optimism’s a bitch. The way he’d caressed Gina’s butt when they met on the bridge suggested he hadn’t quite got the message. But I’d mixed up the message, hadn’t I? I’d made him think his girlfriend might occasionally be up for it, so you couldn’t blame the guy for trying. And, although I say it myself, I did give him a spectacular blowjob.

  Memories of sucking Gilchrist’s cock and an unexpected hand on my own ass got me briefly excited. I thought Leander had turned lustful but when I looked into his eyes, that staid, Thameside Ferris wheel churning slowly behind him, they were as dead as ever. I dismissed the touch as the randy hands of London phantoms but by the time we reached Club Sub, I knew we were being followed.

  Our stalker, I soon realized, was wearing one of those new invisibility coats made out of, what was it, negative index meta-materials? I’d read about the technology but hadn’t known the coats were on the market. How infuriatingly typical that some sly, skeevy journalist had gotten hold of one. Wouldn’t have minded an invisibility coat myself. Damn, he smelled good though, unlike my Leander who smelled of sweet, sanitized nothing.

  At Club Sub, we danced under fake stars, over sparkling snowscapes and through sinister forests, each floor of the venue themed like stories from our childhood. When my soles were worn thin, I drifted off from Leander to grab a beer, trying to harden my heart to the sight of Gilchrist whisking Gina around the dance floor.

  En route to the bar, Mr. Invisible started harassing me again, a nudge here, another there. Hell, he was annoying. I tried to escape him and wound up on the cold, concrete stairwell of the fire exit. I paused for breath, enjoying the calm of muffled music and my near-dark surroundings, a soft green emergency light the only illumination.

  Finding sanctuary turned out to be a smart move, because when Mr. Invisible joined me (jeez, he was persistent), he was manifested as a pale shimmering ghost, outlined in luminous green. I lunged for him, taking him by surprise, and after a few moments’ struggle, I had the meta-coat off him and was scampering for the exit. Back in Club Sub, I slipped on my new garment and vanished. Poof!

  When Mr. Visible emerged, looking a mite hacked off, I had to stop and stare. While he didn’t suit ghostly, he most definitely suited visible. Something about his stature or maybe his short, coppery curls gave him an enchantingly majestic air. We were in the forest zone, and against the backdrop of replica trees with pale, dappled disco lights swooping across the room, he could have been a medieval prince on an heroic quest.

  Color me superficial, but I suddenly changed my mind about him. I might have stared till sunrise if I hadn’t been distracted by the sight of my Leander and Gina on the far side of the room, deep in troubled conversation. I threaded my way through the crowds, quickly realizing there was an art to being invisible that I hadn’t yet mastered. I left a number of people accusing innocent strangers of feeling them up and gained a new insight into Mr. Invisible’s difficulties. Perhaps I’d been over-hasty in my earlier dismissal of him as an opportunistic lecher. Funny how much more forgiving you can be of someone when you’d like to get in their pants.

  Leander touched Gina on the elbow, stepping closer.

  Oh, I thought, it’s like that, is it?

  Gina pressed her hand to her heart, shaking her head, but she didn’t retreat. I moved nearer.

  “But it’s you I want,” said Leander.

  “And I want you,” said my sister, “but it’s not that simple.”

  Well, I never! Fancy the two of them sneaking around behind my back! How very dare they? I realized my anger made me a total hypocrite because after all, I’d sucked off Gina’s boyfriend. However, that didn’t ease my temper. If anything, I got ever crosser because I was cross with myself for not having good reason to be cross. I searched for excuses as to why my betrayal was different to theirs but found nothing that convinced. Nonetheless, their duplicity stung.

  I stomped off to get a beer. By the end of the glass I could see the main damage was to my ego and pride. And hey, didn’t this leave the way open to Gilchrist? After all, we were sisters. We’ve been happily swapping stuff since we were born. Okay, so we’d never swapped boyfriends—well, not officially—but there was a first time for everything. The thought rallied me. Now where on earth was my big-thighed, black-skinned, dark-eyed soldier?

  I wandered from floor to floor before checking out the cloakrooms in case he’d taken refuge in there again. Cloakroom attendants at Club Sub smoke a lot of weed, and security’s lax. But I was invisible so I didn’t have to cajole anyone into letting me pass. Instead, I clambered over the counter, and when I accidentally kicked the book of tickets to the floor, the guy in attendance simply giggled.

  The cloakroom was large and L-shaped, an extravagant room tiled in Egyptian green, with honey-colored benches and golden lockers, coats on rails waiting to be reanimated by their owners. Sure enough, tucked away around the corner was Gilchrist. But this time he wasn’t resting, not by a long shot. He was standing, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. As ever, because he has a wonderful theatrical streak, he was wearing a military jacket, this one a deep indigo adorned with silver buttons. Again it was open, his chest bared. He was naked from the waist down. His elegant hands, tipped with shell-pink nails, were resting lightly on the flame-red curls of my newly visible journalist friend who was on his knees, shirt off, lips wrapped around Gilchrist’s cock.

  I stared like a slack-jawed idiot. My heart and hopes went up-down, up-down, much like Mr. Visible’s mouth. My thoughts veered from a fear I’d lost my guys to man-love to a brand new awareness that, wowzers, this scene was horny. My groin thumped with lust, my lips swelling fast. I drew closer, worried that th
e drumming of my heart might alert them to my presence.

  Mr. Vee’s hands were clamped to Gilchrist’s thighs, his skin pale and stark against the velvety darkness of my darling. Well, my sister’s darling, technically speaking. Rich, purplish shadows hollowed out the dip in Gilchrist’s buttocks, and he seemed so sturdy and corporeal compared to the kneeling beauty whose shoulder muscles shifted under translucent, blue-tinged skin, his armpit hair a wisp of fire. Gilchrist was a mighty storm and Vee was a forest wraith, strong but otherworldly.

  Gilchrist groaned quietly and clasped his lover’s head, his dark fingers sliding through Vee’s russet curls. He held him close on the downstroke, and Vee, adjusting his position, edged toward Gilchrist’s black-haired crotch, slow and steady, until he’d taken him throat-deep. “Oh, mate,” croaked Gilchrist, eyes shut, knuckles blanching, “hold it there, oh fuck, that’s good.”

  Vee’s neck bulged with the effort. My cunt pulsed as I remembered how Gilchrist had directed me to do similar. I moved closer, prepared to run the risk of discovery in return for the joy of being near them. They looked edible, like ginger snaps, licorice, brown sugar and ice cream, but man-sized and a lot less sweet. They smelled of skin and beer, of being underground for too long. I wanted to taste them, and so I did, leaning in to lick Gilchrist from the base of his spine to his neck, careful to touch him with nothing but my tongue. He was warm and salty, and he made the strangest sound, arousal warped by disbelief. I blew on the back of his neck then stood on tiptoe to stream cool air across his gleaming, stubble-shadowed head.

  He moaned again and dusted the back of his head as if an insect were bothering him. I dodged his hand, ducking sideways to see his thick length slide from the grip of Vee’s mouth, his shaft cabled with dark violet veins, saliva lending him a silvery sheen. Avoiding Vee, I cupped Gilchrist’s balls, fondling their shifting weight, making him moan. He didn’t seem to know or care that my touch was surplus to possibility.

  Then Vee moved. He withdrew his hand. I was too close, didn’t budge fast enough. He knocked me, realized I was there. He snapped back from Gilchrist and flailed in my direction. Hitting and clawing at me, he tried to grab what he couldn’t see.

  “You!” he said.

  “What the fuck?” said Gilchrist, staring at Vee in amazement. “Oh shit, are you having a fit? Do I call an ambulance? Don’t swallow your tongue! That’s all I know. Don’t swallow—”

  “Give me my coat,” yelled Vee. I wanted to run but Vee had hold of me, arms around my thighs. “She’s got my coat!”

  I fell to the ground, wriggled and kicked. “Get off, you’re hurting me!”

  “Oh fuck,” said Gilchrist warily. “How do you do that? In that girly voice? Mate, you’re scaring me now. Ouch, ah! Who the—” Gilchrist frowned at Vee’s wild antics, eyes flitting in search of something.

  “She’s invisible,” said Vee. “Get the coat off her, you’ll see.”

  Gilchrist dropped to his knees, and I then had a seriously hot time as the two men grappled to undress me, their confused, eager hands flying all over my body, ebony and porcelain tugging at this, pressing on that. Before long, the coat was off and I was on the floor between them, visible, disheveled, and breathless, my dress torn, my arousal threatening to melt me.

  Gilchrist stared. “Gina?”

  “Well, don’t just kneel there,” I said. “Fuck me!”

  “Lily!” he said, clearly relieved.

  “Is it obvious?”

  Gilchrist grinned. “I never forget a blowjob.”

  “But I thought you thought I was—”

  “Gina? As if,” he said. “Anyway, I can see it in your eyes, Lil. Your dirtiness twinkles.”

  “Doesn’t it just,” agreed Vee.

  “Now get on all fours,” said Gilchrist in a bossy tone that made me weak, “and show my new friend your skills.”

  Gilchrist pumped his length, working himself back to stiffness, while Vee hurried out of his jeans. I swiveled on my hands and knees, ready to take both men, and take them hard. I wasn’t going to waste time pretending I wasn’t sure this was a good idea because at that moment I was hot and wet, and it seemed like the best idea in the world. Gilchrist flipped up my dress and yanked down my knickers. He circled his hand over one cheek while Vee presented himself for my mouth, his boner jerking up from a thatch of rich, copper curls. I tongued his tip and slurped on his end, squealing around him when Gilchrist landed a glancing blow across my butt.

  My cheek juddered, a sting flowering to heat, growing hotter and hotter as Gilchrist continued with his eager, erratic spanking. “Great ass,” he said.

  I slid my lips to the root of Vee, groaning in frustration as Gilchrist ran a soothing hand over the pain he’d generated. Vee reached for my breasts, rolling their heaviness in his palms and gently squeezing my nipples. My desire to be fucked consumed me. I pushed back in search of Gilchrist, then had to stop myself because I didn’t want to lose contact with Vee. My poor body was torn in two, and they hadn’t even started on me yet.

  I heard Gilchrist chuckle, amused by my torment. He continued to tease me, stroking my skin with those supple, slender hands. I’ve often thought how his hands are like those of an artist or pianist, and under his touch, I felt he was making something of me, transforming me from a mortal body into a shimmering Sistine Chapel or a glorious sonata. When he slid his fingers inside me, his other fingers on my clit, my consciousness became a mess of music and trippy, pulsating images. I was lost, wanting his cock, wanting to come, pleasure waltzing with sanity until I barely knew who I was.

  Then, oh, he pulled away when I was on the brink and his cock nudged at my wetness, so firm and stout. I lifted my head from Vee, wanting space to gasp, but Vee drew me back. “Keep my dick in your mouth,” he warned, clutching my head.

  As Vee surged past my lips, Gilchrist plunged into my depths, and I was strung between them both, on ecstasy’s edge. I reached for my clit, circled and rocked until I was coming over and over, my body buffeted by two guys as they thrust and froze, trying the keep their rhythms in synch as mine scattered into orbit.

  With a gasp, Vee snatched himself from my mouth, jerked his fist along his length then offered himself to me. His come was light, swift and fluid. I drank willingly, happy to consume his bliss, and then tenderly he kissed the remnants from my lips. Gilchrist was a stayer. He didn’t come for a long old time, by which point I’d peaked again and so had Vee. I’d been turned this way and that; I’d taken one guy in my mouth while another had feasted between my thighs; I’d straddled Vee and sucked Gee; I’d sucked Vee while he’d sucked Gee; I’d bobbed from cock to cock, and on and on we’d gone, relishing all the hot, sticky permutations available to us.

  Together, we were like a new creation, working in harmony to take ourselves to dizzying new heights. I went to heaven and back, and so did they. We loved our own peaks, and we loved each other’s. In our easy, instinctive choreography of lust, there was a unity, trust, and understanding that transcended fucking. I felt we were a team, and we had a secret to cherish and nurture, far away from the world.

  Afterward, we lay in a tangle on the green tiles, lips and fingers maintaining languid contact. When the smug glow of contentment began to fade, I said to Vee, only half-concerned, “You’d better not put this in the papers. I don’t want my dad thinking I’m a tramp. Although he probably does anyway. Who do you write for?”

  “I don’t write for anyone,” he said. “I’m just a huge fan of yours, Lily. You’re beautiful, you’re funny, you seem—”

  I sat up, alarmed. “Oh hell, I fucked a fan. Don’t stalk me, please. If you do—”

  “No, I’m cool, I swear.” He reached to tweak a nipple, making me laugh. “I just wanted to…to talk to you. To say hi.”

  I smiled down at him. “Hi.”

  He grinned. “Do you come here often?”

  Gilchrist guffawed, taking the filthier meaning.

  “Every sodding night,” I said. “I’m like Pers
ephone, forced to spend half my life in the underworld. It sucks. We’re famous for being famous. My sisters love all that crap, and so they’ve created this big mystery to make it seem like we’ve got something worth hiding and being famous for. But we haven’t. There’s nothing to us except people’s fascination.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vee said guiltily.

  I sank back into their loose embrace. “I’m sick of it,” I continued. “I’m going to pack it in soon. I want to go to college and do media studies. I’ll make a pair of shoes last a year, no repairs.”

  “Oh god,” said Gilchrist, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What are we going to do about Gina?”

  “Gina’s cool,” I said. “She’s hooked up with Leander. I think they’re a better match. And so are we. Don’t you reckon?”

  Gilchrist laughed darkly. “I’ve always thought that.”

  I slid my hand across his chest. The thud of his heart beat in my palm like something hatching in a dawn of new possibilities.

  Vee sat up and shrugged. “Well, hey, this is all very nice but you know what they say. Two’s company and—”

  “And three’s even better company,” I said, pulling him back down. “Twelve, however, is pushing it.”

  The three of us fell into light, lazy conversation until Vee asked, “So what next?”

  “Same again tomorrow?” suggested Gilchrist.

  I laughed. “I’ll be fucked to pieces. But okay, I’m game. Let’s see how it goes, shall we? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.”

  Somewhere in the distance, the stoned cloakroom attendant giggled.

  “Save the last dance for me,” said Vee.

  “And me,” said Gilchrist.

  I reached out to caress them both. “And me.”

  NAME

  A.D.R. Forte

  They called the girl, Elisse, clever. Her fingers were the nimblest on the shuttle for seven villages round, the work of her loom without flaw. She won first prize each year at the fair, and the traders filled her father’s pockets for the scarves she painted with scenes of dappled leaves over the mill stream and hollow hills beneath towering oaks.