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Greg Martin walked out onto the gravel drive and turned to look at the house, this ‘mini-mansion’ as Tania had called it at the outset. Within eighteen months she was talking about it being too small.
Greg shook his head now as he viewed the imposing frontage with the pillars supporting the arch over the large front door. Four large bedrooms, plus a spare room which had briefly been his workplace, a vast sitting room, a lounge with a 48 inch television on one wall, a dining room, a spacious conservatory that overlooked a wide lawn and neatly laid out rear garden.
And it was too small, for just the pair of them?
Greg had always found it difficult to keep up with Tania’s tastes in general, and her whims in particular, which took into account her wild sexual demands. He had, over the past year, wondered whether he would have physically survived her libido beyond the two years they’d been together.
Looking up above the doorway arch, Greg regarded the large decorative window, which was at one end of the upstairs corridor, and he recalled the day he had returned from a trip promoting his book. Stepping out of the car, he had glanced up at that window and had found himself gazing at Tania’s voluptuous naked body, legs wide, arms spread, red hair flaring, as she pressed her fiery bush against the glass, and smiled that constantly provocative smile at him.
Greg had known that within minutes his rising erection would be poking into that bush, trying desperately to quench the fire that was always aflame there. Tania was constantly ready for it. There was not one room in the whole house where they had not carried out some sexual activity, nearly always at her instigation. Blowjobs in the bath, anal in the annexe, cunnilingus in the conservatory, and screwing just anywhere, including on the lawn, they were all fairly standard, and interchangeable.
Ten months alone in the house had been time enough for Greg’s anger to subside, as he had advised himself that he might have recognised that Tania could never be fully satisfied. Her final betrayal should have been no surprise, but it had left him with a sense of inadequacy which had somehow been eased when friends told him about her activities during one of his book promotion tours.
Looking up at the building which, at Tania’s instigation, he had purchased on the strength of the success of his second book, Greg knew that he was now doing the right thing. How he had managed to survive these past months within its walls he’d never know. He was now awaiting a visit from the estate agents Manners and Garrett, to both consider the value of this house and to secure himself a residence that would most fit his needs.
Julie Simmons first sight of the house had her nodding appreciatively. She turned to Victor Manners, who had slowed the car, “This looks fairly special,” she observed, and the older man’s wrinkled face regarded her with a kindly smile.
“I thought you’d appreciate the chance to market a more up-grade property,” he told her. After a few years with several agencies, Julie had been overjoyed to be appointed junior partner of this well established firm just three months ago.
Up until then it had felt that she had hit a dead-end. Life seemed to crush in upon her. The divorce eighteen months ago had been bitter and cruel. In spite of the obvious evidence of his frequent infidelities, Mike had contested the case with such blatant lies about her conduct that in the end, although granted the divorce, he had kept the house, and had to make very little financial reparation to her.
Being with a smaller estate agent she had managed to secure herself a tidy enough place, which was far removed from the comfortable three bed roomed house she had shared with Mike. Anyway, the whole affair had left her with the belief that ‘all men are bastards.’ Fortunately she had a couple of friends, both divorced, who agreed with her assessment.
The recent past, working with Vincent Manners and Clive Garrett, both in their early sixties, had been a pure joy compared with what had gone before. They had allowed her to ease herself gradually into the business, and this visit was another forward step in her progress.
“The gates are remote controlled,” Victor commented as gravel crunched under their wheels. “Mr Martin agreed to leave them open especially for us. I believe that could be him standing outside.”
“It’s quite an imposing frontage,” Julie said enthusiastically, “I like the front door and that large window over the top of it. I wonder why he wants to sell.”
“For something bigger hopefully,” Victor said, with a smiling sideways glance at her. “He’s an author, you know. Greg Martin, heard of him?”
Julie shook her head, although somewhere in the back of her mind was the sense that she had maybe heard or read the name before. As Victor brought the car to a halt in front of the house, their client, Greg Martin, walked towards them, a warm smile on his face, which was quite handsome under a tumble of dark hair. He pendik escort was fairly tall and looked quite well trimmed in a blue shirt and navy pants. There was only one fault—he was a man.
As they climbed out of the car, Greg Martin held out his hand to Victor, and said, “Good of you to come so quickly.”
Victor chuckled, “Where business is concerned I’m very quick.”
As Julie made her way around the car, he said, “May I introduce Julie Simmons, a new junior partner.”
As she held out her hand, Julie sensed a momentary hesitation on Greg Martin’s face. His eyes appeared to take in more than just her face. She didn’t like that. Was that the look of a wolf? Then his hand held hers briefly in a handshake that at least did not try to impress with its grip.
“I’m looking forward to seeing inside the property,” she said, wishing to appear friendly. “It is very impressive from here.”
For Greg something else was impressive from his standpoint. In recent months, as he worked on his next novel, he had paid little attention to good looking women. He had no wish to be attracted. Just getting over Tania’s perfidiousness had been task enough.
However, this Julie Simmons, had set something ticking inside him, like some long unwound clock. Under a flow of tawny hair, her rounded face had a glow and spark about it that suggested a lively spirit. Green eyes, allied to that tawny hair, wasn’t that cat-like? Her figure, trim in a navy skirt and waistcoat style jacket, open to reveal a white blouse, gently raised by the subtle push of neat breasts.
Did he really take all that in with one first glance? What was going on here? Could he put it down to his long period of celibacy? Not really, hadn’t he put his lack of response to other women down to a form of recovery from Tania’s wild sexuality? So, why this reaction to an estate agent called Julie Simmons?
Shaking all the questions from his head, he led Victor Manner and Julie Simmons into the house. She immediately produced a notebook from her small handbag and began making hasty notes as they moved from room to room. Greg had to make a deliberate effort to keep from staring at her.
Then in the lounge, among the generous furnishings, she dropped her pencil. She bent to pick it up, and her pert buttocks pointed up at him through her tightened skirt.
Unbidden, the memory came of this being the place that Tania had first coaxed him into entering her anally. Giving him what he came to call her ‘sex smile’, she had flicked up her flimsy robe, leaned forward over the thickly upholstered arm of the sofa, and said, “I’m already lubricated.” She had been, and Greg had been surprised and only a little disgusted, at the way his erection overcame initial tightness to slide up into her.
“Have you a figure in mind?” The female voice tore him back to the present, and he was looking, slightly bemused, into those green eyes, as Victor Manners nodded his approval at her question.
“Er—I –well-” God, he couldn’t let such memories interfere with his involvement with these people. He managed to tell them that nearly two years earlier he had paid just short of one and a half million. “I’d be happy to hear your evaluation now,” he added, glad to overcome his initial diversion, but aware of Julie Simmons’ furrowed brow.
As they moved around the house, Greg found it increasingly difficult to avoid thoughts of Tania associated with each room. He had thought he had left that problem behind, and knew it could only be the presence of Julie Simmons, that was provoking him. He was taking it as a sign that he desired her madly, but rationalising such thoughts he realised that she was the first female to be in these rooms since Tania’s time. Yet he was uncomfortable about what might show on his face whenever their eyes met.
In the main bedroom Victor Manners murmured, “Mm, very cosy.” Julie Simmons concurred, adding, “And such a neat lay out of cushions.” Even before she’d finished saying it, Greg was recalling Tania lying back naked on the bed, grabbing a cushion to tuck under her buttocks, legs spread, so that her fiery bush was thrust upwards as she whispered sensuously, “Eat me, Greg. Lick me out.”
To kill the image Greg strode over to the window and said, “The view over the garden is always relaxing.” Pathetic, he told himself, you’re selling a building not a view.
So it went on. Room to room, the presence of a delectable female body alongside him brought unwanted images of Tania’s passionate influences. In the second bedroom she had introduced him to what she called her Indian rope trick. After a hectic session, as they lay sated and showered, Greg was ready just to doze off, but Tania had made the suggestion of doing heer Indian rope trick.
“Your what?” he had asked. She had given him ‘that smile’ which always preceded some sexual excursion, and whispered, “You’ll see.”
Her fingers had reached down and began running back and forwards along his very dead, limp penis. As she did that, Greg had recalled an escort pendik earlier girl friend shrinking from the very idea of touching a flaccid penis. It hadn’t surprised him that Tania had no such qualms. What did surprise him was that, given the activity they had just been through, he felt his penis begin to twitch as she lifted its limpness, and continued her stroking.
When she lowered her head so that her tongue joined in the caressing motions, Greg knew for certain that, amazingly, he was beginning to harden. Triumphantly, Tania gripped that hardness and cried, “See, it’s up. I’ve performed the Indian rope trick.” Having said that she dropped her head and enveloped his new erection right to the back of her throat. Greg didn’t need to do anything, as Tania’s mouth and tongue worked up and down his solid length until whatever juices he had left in his scrotum spurted down her gulping throat. Then he had really slept.
Leading the two estate agents into the large bathroom with its generous corner bath and large shower cubicle, Greg had to admit to himself that there were, in fact, too many erotic images to recall. So much had happened there.
The smaller fourth bedroom was their last viewing. “Narrow windows here,” Victor Manners commented.
“Not out of place for this room though,” Julie Simmons added.
Greg could only nod in agreement, but he didn’t say anything about the room being easier to black out. Only a vague memory remained of Tania and he doing anything in this room. What was of greater significance was what two male acquaintances had told him a few months after Tania had taken her leave. On separate occasions, and cautiously, each had spoken of a ‘swingers’ party Tania had held while Greg was away on a book promotion trip.
“All very impressive,” Victor Manner said, as they descended the stairs. “Julie and I will discuss a price for the property, and contact you tomorrow for your approval. Then we’ll go ahead from there.”
At the foot of the stairs, Julie Simmons turned to him, those green eyes doing something to his equanimity, “You live here alone, Mr Martin?”
“For the past ten months,” Greg told her, trying to convey a secret offer by looking squarely into her face. All she did was lower her face to her notebook.
Victor Manners broke into any further considerations he might have, as he asked, “And are you looking to upgrade for your next property?”
“God, no, I don’t need this kind of space. Three bedrooms maybe, detached, modern.”
“On an estate?” Julie Simmons asked.
“I’m fairly open about that—I wouldn’t mind something isolated.” He gave her what he hoped was an open look as he was tempted to add, ‘Where we could be alone together.’ Whoa, what’s wrong with you, Greg Martin? You surely have more control of your emotions than this.
Having agreed to make early contact, first of all with a proposed valuation, and secondly with any suitable suggestions for his new abode, Victor Manners and Julie Simmons walked out to their car. Opening the driver’s door, Manners gave him a cheery farewell wave. Julie Simmons climbed into the car without looking back.
After watching the car move away up the drive, Greg sighed, and turned back into the house, wondering how his equanimity had been so disturbed. An attractive woman, surely it was more than that, the world was full of them. But he could not convince himself.
“A very pleasant fellow,” Victor observed as he steered the car out onto the main road. “A fine house, too.”
Julie tried to keep her thoughts on business, “I’ll have a value worked out for tomorrow,” she said, taking a quick glance back at the imposing building they had just left.
“And you could see what we have already on our books that might interest him.” Victor said, adding, “A lonely man, and a successful author. A lovely catch for some lucky lady.”
Julie turned her head to see the little smirk on Victor’s face, “None of that, Victor,” she scolded. Victor, happily married himself, had recently started to tease her about her unmarried state. When she tried to tell him that she was not interested because of her bad experience with Mike he always came out with the same reply.
“Okay. Okay.” He said now, with a shake of his head, “But he’s your case. Make of it what you will.”
“Strictly business,” she said firmly.
“Julie, I would expect nothing less from you,” Victor said, as he negotiated a roundabout. “But you’re—how old?”
“See? The clock ticks on. Yes, you got hurt, but —“
“I know, Victor,” Julie sighed. “One frosty experience doesn’t make a winter. How many times have you—?”
“And I’m going to keep on,” he interrupted. “Like the old song, ‘You’re nobody ’til somebody loves you.’ Not your era maybe, but true.” And he went on singing the song quietly in his rough gravelly voice.
Julie looked out of the window and wondered how this conversation had started. Was it Greg Martin’s lonely state? It’s not that he was bad looking. But pendik escort bayan he was probably lonely because his woman had left him. Good for her. She was probably escaping his lustful demands, just as she had finally done with Mike.
Had she imagined it, but hadn’t his eyes been on her every time she looked at him? There had been times when they seemed to bore into her, trying to read her mind. Even when he was behind her she was sure his gaze was boring into her back. It was very creepy. Was she really going to have to face that until she got his business settled? The thought of perhaps having to be alone with him as he lusted after her was not appealing.
“–but gold wont bring you happiness when you’re growing old.” Victor’s rough tones quietly rumbled on. He just wouldn’t give up, and keeping her cool, Julie tried to shut out his vocal advices.
For some crazy reason as she viewed the passing countryside, it was those awful final months with Mike that plunged unbidden into her mind. So many times since they’d been apart she had fretted over the fact that it had taken her the full two years of their marriage for her to admit to herself that her nook was not the only one being ploughed by the horny bastard.
For the first few months their intimacies had been acceptable. He did occasionally take her to a high, but more often he was too rough or unwilling to care about her pleasure, yet, often he was not in the mood himself. It took her six months to consider that his ‘not being in the mood’ might indicate that she had a rival, and pretty soon she was certain that there wasn’t just one rival, but many, as he spent more and more time out of her company.
It was in those later months leading up to her move for a divorce that his only sexual demands were to have her take him in her mouth. There was no caressing, no foreplay, and for her, no pleasure, only disgust at the way he imposed his filthy, degrading demands upon her. She was sure it was when she finally found the strength to fight off such advances that he began to formulate his case to present to a judge. There was no doubt about it, Mike Simmons was a total bastard, and she intended to make a move to erase that surname.
“—so find yourself somebody to love.” Victor growled into the conclusion of his song, as he threw her a swift sideways glance.
No chance, Julie sighed to herself. Hell would freeze over before she’d commit herself to another man.
When the estate agent’s car had disappeared onto the main road, Greg turned back into the house, wondering why he was feeling so distracted. There was the round, bright face of Julie Simmons, those green eyes, the tawny hair, all locked behind his eyes. Yet her presence had triggered the memories of Tania which he had hoped he had buried.
Unwillingly he went upstairs to that fourth bedroom with the narrow windows that could be easily blacked out. Greg stood just inside the door and tried to envisage just what had happened in this room while had been away.
He had been annoyed and disbelieving when the first male acquaintance had, when they met at a local party, had spoken of the event.
“Honest, Greg, I wouldn’t be mentioning this if the two of you were still together,” the guy had said guardedly. “But she invited about a dozen men and women. A ‘Swingers’ party she called it. Hell, it sounded intriguing, and the activities, Greg, well, you can imagine. All the usual. Car keys in the centre of the floor, cards with parts of the body written on them and a man could choose from one pile and the name of a woman from another. He then had to stroke whatever body part was listed. Oh, all kinds of coupling went on. There was bare flesh everywhere.”
Greg had found his fists clenching as the guy went on, “But it was what she called the ‘Black Room’ that was so fascinating. A room would be totally blacked out. At any time a man or a woman could go in there after leaving a card outside telling what sex they were. They had to be completely naked, a member of the opposite sex could go in, and they could indulge in any activity that pleased them.”
Greg remembered the guy’s eyes fixing on him, almost apologetically, as he went on. “Just after nine, one man went in and was closely followed by another. Somebody told us about it, and we knew it was Tania that was in there. Sometime later we jeered wildly as the two men staggered out as though all the sauce had been sucked out of them. ‘Wanted it everywhere, she did’, one of them gasped. Turns out that she’d told each man, quite separately, what time she would be in that room. She really set up the threesome. Some sexpot, eh?”
Greg would have dismissed the story if, about two months later, chance had him listening to a near identical version from another guy who had been there. Had he known at the time might he have kicked her out? He would never be sure, but it could have spared him the shameful, unmanning circumstance of their actual split.
With both women still circling in his head, Greg moved into the room he called his office, and sat in front of the computer where he had completed twenty chapters of his latest thriller. It was to be a story of a man disposing of his unfaithful wife, and, perhaps, getting away with it.
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