ALL THE COLORS BLUE

M LESLIE

ONE

Speed silver dream.

Was I flying?

Was I floating?

I'd just woken up.

I lit a cigarette. The calming flutters hit my heart. I was miles high over the sea. I was on my way to Martin. I lost my virginity to him. The rest of me went to other people.

Alone in the aircraft I had time to weigh up all my thoughts and feelings. I had started now, my journey had begun, I stuttered and almost gave up on occasion but I got there eventually. I found a man to love me as much as I loved him back. All I had dreamed of, all I ever wanted was coming true.

I reclined in the gilded leather aircraft seat and relaxed. I could relax now, from floundering in the sea I had now jumped ashore. It gave me chance to think about Martin and me, how well I knew him or guessed I knew him, set against how little of himself he gave away. Man to boy and back again he was still a seraphic mystery, just revealing part of himself at a time to me, as if to say I don't think you could take all of me at once. Try me big boy, I might be still growing but I was learning fast and these chubby hands with their bitten down nails hands once so amateurish were becoming more skilled with experience. Likewise my senses, not just my sex senses. I was a match for him and he realized that. At first we were so different, me the penniless London girl, he the American billionaire but now we were equals.

Character wise he was kind and attentive when he wanted to be, other times he could be short, distracted, but too kind to be cruel. Boring and beguiling in equal measure. Any hurt was the accidental kind, not the malicious kind. We were good to each other. I brought out a more emotional side to him, he set free my carnal side.

I got almost a hint that relationships were not his strength, at least where people were involved. Time would tell. I also got the impression he was lonely, even a little bit lost, drifting maybe and I was his anchor or his safe port of call. He was a powerhouse intellectually, but it came at a price, he went deep into himself, over and over again and once upon a time, when he resurfaced, I was there. Was I the one? I've asked myself that so many times, but deep down I already know the answer.

Creativity drove him. His art was his life and his life was his art but it came at a price. Wasteful, extravagant but sometimes the end result....................

He seemed to be caught between two worlds, the world that made him and the world he created. One he was part of and one he wanted to escape from. Sometimes when I was talking to him I would sense an emptiness, a slight weariness creeping into his voice as he spoke. I was also aware of that tiger in his eyes, the one I saw and could never decide if it was crouching in wait to pounce on it's prey or hiding in the shadows safe from the hunter.

To devour or deceive. It was conundrum I hadn't figured out yet. Perhaps in Blix I would find out. I also might be able to swim off some of my puppy fat.

I'm not short, just above average height, but he was a good head taller than I was and he loved high heels, court shoes, stilettos, boots from ankle to thigh and he'd get them. And the high stepping swaying scraping clipping tottering catch me if I stumble vulnerability that went with them. People noticed me, him, us, more when I wore them. He also liked me to tease ever so slightly, almost a bit wanton, on the way to a well fucked slut but still presentable. He also loved anything stolen, especially if it was stolen in plain sight as if he wanted every man to see him with me and envy him the way every girl there envied me. It was his teenage years coming out, the friendless girlfriendless geek who was screaming at the world, look at me now!

TWO

It all began with a song, isn't that how all the best romances begin?

This one had a repetitive riff that drove you insane and a backbeat that stopped you flying off somewhere in your insanity. I chose it, it was my track. In every club I went into, every car ride radio blaring, every party, and every fayre and street market it was there with you, and me as well.

You may even have seen me, skinny but fleshy, the puppy fat slow to go, long dark hair and blue eyes, clear skin (somedays), that was me. Everything about me in proportion. Balanced. I was a perennial don't look at me twice girl. You get it all in one take. There were no hidden depths.

I heard the song till I knew all of its eight words off by heart. I chose it or it chose me, but I knew it intuitively and set it free.

Intuition and freedom.

Two words I would come to know well, trusting and despairing of them both in equal measure and this time with no backbeat to keep me grounded.

And the song?

The song was e-mailed to the office where I worked, Ricochet Records, although we didn't do records, we e-mailed tracks to DJ's in the clubs and took the profits if there were any, and we did O.K.

We is Steve the owner, and me, I was a runner, office based and largely immobile. Hamster. Wheel. Phone bound rather than foot slogging, an e-mailer rather than miler, and the song came through one Sunday evening when I was still in the office checking royalty returns from the weekend of parties, raves, bashes, discos, hen nights and stag nights and wherever else we could sell to.

If you wanted music that made the neighbors complain, music so loud it caused oblivion and made you forget to count the hours minutes seconds down to Monday morning we could supply it. Music to drink by and get randy by, music to hide behind, music to spend money to without thinking but most of all it was music to get laid to.

Except I didn't get laid.

Everyone else but me.

All the time.

Without fail or remorse, a second thought or regrets, guilt or guile. They didn't beat themselves up over sex, deny it, and run away from it, they just did it.

I didn't.

I hadn't.

It was a much a mystery to me as most of life is to a twenty-year-old London girl with a minor public school education and no great parental ambitions for her or her for herself for that matter. All I had was a minor media job in a minor media backwater that would lead me nowhere.

Or so I thought.

As regards the lack of sex, there was no reason for it. I had a normal healthy stable childhood, perhaps too stable I sometimes thought, I know what I like and I like what I know. Surprises and shocks like the punch lines of gags I don't get. I neither chased nor chaste nor made myself bait; I just made myself wait. Why? No idea. I was attractive enough for a quick snog in my early teens, even a quick feel in my late teens but now at twenty I wanted to go a bit further.

I was tired of acting like a young woman without actually being one, tired of nodding along with the comments and gags of the other girls as if I was up there with them. Sometimes they would mention something, and I would act pleased for them to cover my own disappointment but I knew that some doth cheer too loudly.

I was one.

Was I a second division screw?

I was becoming isolated from the other girls. They sat in the toilets and cried and whined, playing he loves - he loves me not. I was beginning to avoid them; I was running out of fantasies about my fantasy man. I was tired of being me. I wanted to be a crowd. There must be more people inside me than I had met already. I didn't want to share my bed with fantasies and phantoms, I wanted flesh and blood and a pulse to go with it.

I wanted a sex life.

Martin provided me with that.

THREE

I stopped hanging around with the other girls, I'd tried to be skippy heeled like them, they talked of their boyfriends, and I made up stories about my non-existent one. He was big and broad, maybe fair with piercing blue eyes, powerful and strong. He excelled at sport, was cultured and an heir to a fortune. He was a demon lover that left me too tired for work.

Martin is nothing like that, except for the blue eyes. He's a geek as I said, taller than average and wiry, sport is a mystery to him. The only fortune he has is the one he's made himself. But that wasn't all he'd made in life, he'd made himself too, from a self conscious adolescent to the powerful figure he is now and that is where the contradiction lies with him I always thought. Part of him is still that friendless geek, wary of people and wary of situations that require complex social skills, at other times it seems he wants to get even with people, the world, pay it back almost.

It's a heady mixture and no one, even Martin, can control everything one hundred per cent. He'd shy away from the spotlight as if he feels he's not worthy of it, then embraces it fully. He set his own rules as a device to avoid dealing with people and situations he may not fully understand, he is self conscious in the spotlight, but still expects the spotlight. Although he is ten years older than I am he was still growing.

FOUR

Speed silver dream.

I reclined on the plane seat and lit another cigarette, listening to the rhythmic thump of the engines and let my memories entertain me.

Scene one take one and cue the music.

Don't forget the music, there was always that.

We were on set for the shoot of the video to accompany the song and the director was marshaling the boys and girls with some help from the choreographer, trying to get them to feel Saturday night on a soggy Monday morning in London.

We were on an industrial estate surrounded by car dealers and double glazing companies and I'd come here with Steve and where he'd gone to I'd no idea, perhaps checking out the pretty boy dancers, he didn't do girls, I didn't do boys but in a different way and for different reasons I still couldn't fathom.

The song boomed out, the same incessant riff you found yourself tapping your foot to and dee dee dooing along with till you stopped suddenly. Embarrassed the hook had hooked you. It was an earworm song. It got in and you couldn't dislodge it.

From what Steve had told me an American music company was working on my song, the song I'd chosen. The company was called Caracol. I didn't know them but again that was the way the system worked. Some songs got a video and some didn't. The money for the video, promos, adverts and tie-ins, Caracol were picking up the bill for everything, the boys and girls came from an agency called RentaRiot, and the boss picked up the bill for that as well.

The video was a work of art. Apparently. The only art it had it seemed to me was to turn a spotty faced virgin into the next sex god or a stoned slept my way to the top tart into the desirable girl next door. Their art confused clotheslines with coke lines. Their art though was mostly selling something you couldn't buy.

The dozen or so dancers milled around the studio trying to create that hot Saturday night feel on a dull drizzly Monday morning. They had my sympathy. I stood there hating normal 24/7. Rescue me!

No one did.

I went home.

Alone.

Wine in the fridge waiting, and I'll get some chocolate on the way for company tonight...

FIVE

Speed silver dream.

I thought I'd seen the last of Martin until. Until. I poured myself another drink from the aircraft's cocktail cabinet and replayed that until moment over in my mind. A few days after the video shoot the buzzer rang when I was in the office alone.

'Hello,' I said.

'Nash,' hissed the voice through the intercom static.

'Nash?' I said perplexed. Then I got it. The boss.

'Martin Nash, from the shoot...' he said in that mid Atlantic drawl I wanted to match with my London moan.

It's the boss, be cool, deep breaths.

'OK. I'll do you,' I said, all bated eagerness.

'Do me?'

'Sorry, buzz you up!'

He came in from that sweet September rain shaking his dark hair from his forehead, not exactly dripping but moist. I knew the feeling.

'He's not here, Steve,' I said, before he could ask about my employer.

'No I know, I was on the phone to him told him I'd pop in and drop the first rushes in for him to look at, see what he thinks of them. You must be Natasha, right?'

'Yes, I am.'

'Steve rates you and if he rates you I rate you too. I'm Martin Nash,' he said holding out his hand, we shook.

I touched him. I squeezed his hand harder than he did mine, bless him.

'Sorry, can I get you a coffee?'

'Sure, love one.' He flashed a brilliant smile at me and just as quickly it died. It was a perfunctory smile. I thought he could do better. I thought I could make him do better. I thought he wanted to do better.

'Everything come out OK?' I said as I poured the cups with a giggle and a gush.

'Yeah pretty cool, won't be a sitter!'

'OK, milk, sugar?'

He nodded yes to both.

'Anything else I can get you.' A rub down maybe? 'Want another?'

'No, no time, unfortunately, I'll pop in sometime and go over a few things with Steve, see ya Tasha, thanks for the coffee,' and with a bright toothed smile he was gone. He was gone as if he wanted to be gone, as if being alone with a woman in a confined space was difficult for him.

Up close I could see the man inside, and was something in his eyes, something hurting and raging at the same time, like a tiger crouching there, watching and waiting, either to pounce on its prey or hiding from the hunter. Time and chance would tell. I wanted him. Even then I wanted him. I wanted him to knock on the door, and I wanted him to knock on the door and say...

'Natasha?' he said suddenly peering round the door.

'Sorry,' I said. Have I missed something?

'Do you get seasick?' he asked. 'Boats, rivers, that sort of thing.'

I shrugged, 'not normally,' I replied.

'It's nothing really but I've been invited to a party tomorrow night, opening of a friend's restaurant, I was wondering could you make it with me?'

I hesitated, confused. Me?

'Sorry, if you're too busy I'll try RentaRiot,' he said with a self-conscious shrug.

'No, no not busy, I'd love to go.'

'Pick you up at eight then,' he stated not queried.

'I'll be ready,' I said in a voice that was more an animal pant than human.

Then he was gone.

SIX

Speed silver dream.

He'd be waiting for me when I landed, big smile on his face, bulge between his legs. We've come a long way from that first date I thought as I raided the aircraft's drinks cabinet again, a long long way. I kicked my shoes off, rubbed my feet against each other, bliss, and thought back to the first stuttering stop start evening out together, who'd have believed I would now be on that very same date's private jet headed to who the hell knew where?

Blix?

I purred as I rubbed my feet together and watched the clouds out of the aircraft window and recalled that first date. The shoes, yes! 4 inch heels in dark nude. The dress caused me least debate. It was black, lowish cut, any lower would highlight my lack of cleavage, any higher clashed with my choker, the crowning glory around my neck. It was plain black with an inlaid gold motif, classy and sassy, rock and roll with a hint of reticence, a find the fuse and light it piece of jewelry, a keep you guessing icon that said sex style and status all at once.

I bought it for myself last year.

My hair was a bit up and a bit down, it could be bed hair if you wanted it to be but it could also be going home in the taxi alone hair, I played it safe. Both ways. I arranged it myself in the bathroom at my flat, disarranged it then arranged it again half way. Neither here nor there Natasha I thought as my mobile went.

'Two minutes away Natasha,' said Martin from the car.

'OK, I'm cool, see ya!'

No I wasn't cool, feverish and gibberish came to mind not cool but I put the phone off before I could prove it to him and myself and lose the game before it had even started. I had just stepped out of my flat when his car crept up, a muted steel gray menace in the early evening sun, a car that seemed to scythe effortlessly through the other traffic to park beside me.

The door swung open.

'Hi Tasha, you look...'

'Yes?' I said as I got in.

'You look, just look, you know what I mean.' Martin said gazing straight into my eyes with a faint smile. A strange mixture of sureness and reticence. Maybe that was his attraction?

'OK, ' I said slowly and with a giggle as we set off scything again, the car engine a muted rhythmic pulse, a low pitched hum, a hint of the power it possessed, it didn't so much threaten as promise. The sort of car that made a statement and that statement was it kept its word. It took you there, gave you the ride of your life and brought you back.

Satisfied.

And wanting more.

Martin had kept his word as well to his friend and we turned up at his new restaurant. Now I understood what the reference to seasickness was about. The restaurant was on a Thames river barge called 'Curzon'. Swell.

He'd said in the car he didn't want to go, didn't really enjoy social occasions but he was a friend, it was hard to refuse. I got the impression he valued loyalty. A friend calls and he answers, old debts maybe? Obligations from a misspent youth? He owed him one? For what?

When we parked up, he waved to his friends and took my arm as we got out, almost as if to hold hands but not quite yet. We looked good, as good as any other couple abroad that night, Martin, and me. He taller by a head, cream silk shirt, dark gray trousers and dark well cut jacket.

Yes, we matched and passed.

We got papped, sort of. The photographers took a couple of snaps of us together. I smiled; Martin tensed but smiled also, again that rather unsettling ambiguity in his character. And again that turn on turn off perfunctory smile. He steadied me as we approached the Curzon, high heels and quayside cobblestones don't match, then we stepped on to the gently rocking barge and after a welcome from Martin's friend we took our seats in the small dining area, reflected and distorted by the brass and copper maritime themed fittings. All the way to his chair Martin had carefully dodged the low ornamentation.

We went with the fish and a bottle of wine. It was a meal ordered with no preamble or debate. It was a meal to eat, not show off with. It was direct, a meal to start the evening as if more and better were to come so why waste your time on what didn't count?

Martin took a moment to settle his tall rangy frame at the table. Small talk time.

'So was it always your ambition to work in the music industry Natasha?' he asked.

'No I just drifted into it, I didn't do university, so I was at a loose end, a friend of a friend of a friend said someone wanted some help, you know how it is,' I replied with a shrug.

'How long have you been with Ricochet Records?'

'Two years, I found a rut and I got into it!'

It brought smiles from both of us.

'You're what, twenty now? Still plenty of time. Other ruts are waiting, lonely and empty I'm sure.'

We both laughed but were you having a gentle dig at me with that aside Martin? I'd noticed in his character there was a slight tendency to put people down one minute and boost them the next, as if he was unsure of dealing with people. He was still searching for boundaries, both his own and other peoples.

'You made a good choice with the song, Steve told me you chose it, made the running with it,' he continued, now he was complimenting me.

'What made you pick up on it?'

'It's complex, multi layered, simple but with plenty going on underneath, it suits the market and that's a market that dominated by gays and girls,' he said and I got a smile in return, slightly shy, a smile that had it's own ambiguities.

It was difficult not to be drawn to him, apart from his physicality, his sheer presence; there was energy in abundance about him. But it was fenced in, held back. He reached out to pour some more wine for me, his cuffs rode up, his wrist was thin, if I was kind I would call it lean and corded, the fingers were straight and strong. The grip on the bottle precise and balanced with no wasted flourishes. All grace and danger I thought.

Again.

'You said you didn't go to university, was that lack of ambition, grades too poor, fear of failure or getting homesick, boyfriend in the background holding you back, drugs problems, maybe you're a single mother, perhaps mentally unstable or already just too much debt?'

As he paused for breath I smiled then answered. 'None of those things, well except for the debt bit, it wasn't really expected of me, my parents never pressured me and I never pressured myself.'

'If you had have gone what would you have studied?' he asked.

'English literature or drama maybe,' I replied. 'I leaned more towards drama and words, words and more words. Shakespeare I worshiped and still do, his collected works are my bible.'

'Did you act much?'

'Yes, at school.'

'But not since?'

'I attend auditions every so often, but nothing yet.'

'You haven't got a callback?' he asked.

'Maybe one day,' I said wistfully. 'It's just so competitive, so many actresses chasing a few roles.'

'It can make someone bitter, if their talent goes unrecognized,' he said.

'I'm not bitter yet. I'm sure there's the perfect part for me out there.'

'Those make or break roles,' Martin said in agreement. 'It can be tough relying on others.'

I nodded but said nothing. I was good, but.....

'Are you something of a drama queen?' Martin suddenly asked with a smile.

'Not really,' I said but I was. 'And what about you?' I said. Fill me in, conversationally at least. For now.

'I'm ten years older than you.'

'So you're a music industry veteran?'

'Not really, well, sort of, music's just one of the strings to my bow as it were, property, media, electronics, computers, the usual modern portfolio.'

'A bit of everything?' I asked wondering if there was room for a bit of me in the mix.

'Yes, I try to link at all together, get one discipline to feed on another, get some synergy at work, look for patterns. Fuel the creative process.'

Our conversation was interrupted as two people, a man and woman, approached Martin, he shook the man's hand and kissed the woman slightly hesitantly. He was a curious mixture of arrogance and diffidence, as if he felt is was his due worth to be feted but he didn't really enjoy it.

Something else too, as the man made small talk with me Martin hung back, as if letting me decide whom I liked most, as if he feared the competition even. But for me it was interesting to see the effect he had on the woman. Almost overwhelming for her in fact. It both surprised him and seemed to make him nervous. If I had a relationship with a man like this I would have to be very careful. And so would he.

'Whereabouts are you based?' I said when they'd gone; I was still here and still interested.

'America but most of my time is spent traveling. One bleak hotel room after another, endless airports, endless lines, endless everything, so goddamn lonely and soul destroying sometimes.'

'Don't you have staff with you to keep you company?'

'Not normally,

'You're single then obviously from what you say?'

'I am and likely to remain so.'

'Why do you say that?'

'I can be difficult to live with, what about you?'

'I'm single too,' I said far too quickly and desperately.

'I'm glad, don't want you to upset your boyfriend or anything. Glad you're not that type.'

You know where I live, you know Steve well, and you must have known I was single Martin, stop being so disingenuous. You also know the type I am.

'Will you be staying in London long?' I asked him.

'Just for a few more days and then I'm off. Typical mid Atlantic man,' he twanged. Sexily.

'So whereabouts in America are you from?'

'Manchester.'

'Err, Manchester America?' I said hesitantly.

'No, Manchester England.'

'Oh you were born here then, you're one of us,' I said crassly. 'Best of both worlds.'

'And worst of sometimes. Not sure who I am or where I belong, I'm a bit of a mongrel really.'

'Where do you feel most at home?'

'In here,' said Martin tapping his head to make his point with a bright natural even toothed smile.

'How did you end up in America then?'

'My dad was a marine engineer and we traveled all around the world, wherever his work took him, with me and my mum in tow, new school every week or so, new customs, new ways of doing things, new country sometimes, even a new language.'

'That can be rough on kids.'

'Two sides of the same coin, yes you're on your own a lot, and all those new first days at school can be a drag, leaving friends before you've really had time to make them, always moving on, always going somewhere. Makes you a bit wary of commitments sometimes. It's either a godsend or it's a trip to hell, depending on your disposition?'

'And your disposition?'

'I made the best of it, I reckon.'

'Did you have brothers and sisters to help out?'

'No,' said Martin with a laugh, 'I'm the typical indulged only child. Beware.'

'Beware?'

'I bite, and I sulk. The prerogatives of an only child.'

'And eventually you ended up in America?'

Yes we settled in San Diego when I was about twelve.'

'Just orientate me on San Diego,' I said slowly, wishing I'd fancied the geography teacher when I was at school as much as I fancied the drama teacher.

'It's in California, just down the road from LA, on the coast.'

'Beaches and sunshine?' I asked innocently.

'Both. Endless,' he replied with a smile.

'Sounds awesome, how can you bear to be away?'

'I go back a lot, mum and dad are still there, and I'm still welcome.'

'Sounds good.'

'It was, a great childhood and I thank them every day for it.'

'Yeah, same for me.'

A quick toast to our parents, and some more wine for me.

'Where did it all begin? How did Martin the much-traveled boy end up doing a video shoot in London?'

'I love San Diego, became a beach bum in a small way until I decided to get my head down and do some real studying so I got my degree.'

'What was your degree in?'

'Trig.'

'Pardon?'

'Trigonometry, angles, shapes and things.'

'Did you find it easy?'

'I like numbers,' he said with a shrug.

I had my answer for him forever in my memory. I sang it tunelessly.

"Girls let me warn ya,

the quadratic form'la,

is something you don't need.

Don't trust your life,

to a man,

who calculates Pi to infiniteee."

It felt good to laugh together; we matched our moods to the evening and each other, give me the ending I want. At least I think I want.

'So what was that Natasha?' he said teasingly.

'It's a rhyme we made up at school,' I said blushingly as the years fell away.

'You didn't like mathematics then?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'I think I'd lean towards something a bit more creative.'

'And you don't think it is creative?'

'Mechanical creativity maybe.'

Martin sat back and looked at me for a long time before he spoke. 'Creativity is all about patterns, artists, mathematicians, poets, even Shakespeare...........'

'I never thought of it that way,' I said, slightly rattled by his intensity.

'Which are the most demanding creative pursuits in the world do you think?'

I said, 'Tell me,' but didn't say don't bore me. I should have.

'The most creative subjects in the world are chess, mathematics, poetry, music and art. They require the most discipline and knowledge, they are all about patterns and the manipulation of patterns, an addiction to patterns if you want, ….' Martin's intensity continued. 'They were so difficult to live with, they lived for their creativity and built their lives around it....'

FOR GOD'S SAKE MARTIN STOP YAKKING ABOUT NUMBERS AND JUST FUCK ME!

'The amazing thing about creativity,' he continued, 'is that it hard wires your sex drive, creativity floods the brain with dopamine, sends the mono amines into overdrive, it makes you randy, that's why doing things, being creative and so on, influences your sex drive.'

I was silent, mulling over what he'd said. This is getting interesting.

'The history of creativity is made up of victims, usually pretty females, they were the casualties of the creative process,' he added. It is a very destructive process.'

Too much wine for me.

'Martin, excuse me for a second, I've just got to go and powder my nose.'

He looked at me perplexed.

'Powder my nose,' I repeated slowly, he got it and just as I got up he spoke again.

'You are coming back aren't you?' he asked quietly.

'Yes of course,' I replied, 'what do you mean?'

'I dated a girl years ago in Paris, she went to powder her nose and she didn't come back, I sat there for two days waiting for her.'

'Well I'll be back, don't worry, stay there, two shakes of a lamb's tail.'

I turned my back on him, then smiled at him over my shoulder but Martin wasn't there anymore. In his place was a plain, tall scrawny friendless geek the girls didn't want. A man who had woven his own life and edited the past plenty.

As I'd thought before there was a tiger in his eyes crouched to attack or hide. This man was a contradiction, a confusing conundrum that you felt would either rip you into shreds or never let you know he was there. When I got back to the table he looked relieved and smiled up at me as if to thank me.

Go tiger!

We ate some more, drank some more and he bored me some more.

We drove home and he came round to my side of the car and helped me out then hugged me. That's hugged as in non-threatening non-sexual touching.

'We've been everywhere tonight, Shakespeare, mathematics, art, music, and all the rest,' he said enthusiastically.

I smiled indulgently the way I would at a small child; yes Martin we have, but we haven't been in each other's underwear have we?

Another hug that again took me by surprise and he turned on his heels and with a quick goodbye, jumped in his car and that was it.

He went to his lair.

And me to my nest.

SEVEN

Speed silver dream.

Natasha Nash Natasha Nash Natasha Nash.

I said it over and over again in my head to the rhythm of the jet miles high over the Atlantic, I couldn't decide if that matched and passed.

Looking back on the start of our relationship I realized it was difficult living with someone creative, dangerous even. Like swimming with sharks in a sea of LSD. I had a taste of this already...

Hello I said to his back, hello he said without turning round.

It was the first time I'd seen Martin in nearly a week, he hadn't got in touch with me and I haven't got his number but there he was in the office when I went in, huddled around the computer with Steve as the pair of them wrapped up the final edit and mix on the video that was going to take the world by storm.

My offer of "some coffee for you guys" was met with two noncommittal grunts that I assumed meant no. Martin looked very different to when I'd seen him a few nights earlier on our date. He looked tired and unshaven with bleary eyes and his clothes looked crumpled as if he'd chosen to sleep in those instead of in bed with me.

Natasha. Suck an ice cube and calm down.

Forget the suck, just go ice.

Eventually Steve and Martin seemed to get just what they wanted, lucky them, and with that Martin got up abruptly and left with just a grunt in reply to my cheery stop and talk to me inquisitive sounding goodbye oh are you really going?

Not for the first time I thought this is a hell of a guy for keeping you guessing. He was a strange mixture of the humble and the petulant.

EIGHT

I lost my virginity to Martin. It wasn't thrown away, wasted or regretted. I have good memories of it, what the hell I thought, as I entertained them again. I cherished that first time. I ran it over in my mind as I poured myself another drink, sat back in the aircraft seat, and stretched and purred, splaying my legs slightly...

Skinny black jeans, white t shirt, sensible flatties, matching bra and briefs in pale blue, if I'd have know there was a party coming up I would have dressed for it. Not for the first time I thought it was a blessing Steve didn't do women, he wouldn't last five minutes. I'd just got back to the office after a very late lunch break when Steve grabbed my arm, said "let's go babe" and dragged me down the stairs and threw me into his car.

Was that how he treated his boyfriends I wondered as I scraped my hair back into a long tailed squirrel, added a dab of lipstick and hoped for the best. We were on our way to a city center hotel to celebrate the song. The party was in full swing when we arrived minutes later but was Martin here?

If he were which Martin would it be? The sweet attentive Martin who seemed to want a mixture of a mother and a lover or the creative Martin who was blind to everything except reaching deep into himself? Would today's Martin be reaching out? To me?

He didn't on our date, unlikely he would here I thought as I circulated. The RentaRiot boys and girls were in but no sign .l,k, of Martin.

The room was hot and full, PR, execs, the high and mighty and the hangers on all mingling, dancing, groping and snorting. Welcome to the zoo. All would get screwed. Some would get fucked. I wouldn't. Either way.

'Tasha, Tasha!' a voice from behind me and I spun round.

'Hello Martin,' I said wide-eyed and cherub lipped.

'You've come then, great, Steve said he'd fetch ya!' he said as he hugged me. I got a hug, what is it with this guy and his hugs? Treat me like a woman, a sex machine, a lover to be, someone you wanna screw and not your maiden aunt.

'Get a drink?' he said as he guided me to the bar area and the half naked barman, between gymnastics, somersaults, various gyrations and ultra cool moves gave us a pair of cocktails that had been shaken, stirred, thrown and concussed into drinkable submission.

'Good time, good party,' I said jigging around, hint Martin, and ask the lady to dance!

'Good luck to them,' he said looking at the groovers on the floor between the furniture, 'I've got two left feet.'

'You're not a dancer?'

'Uh uh,' he said with a shake of his head.

How about horizontal dancing sometime? Flat out?

'We could get on the dance floor and just sort of hug?' I suggested. Huggy huggy?

'I don't think I could even manage that Tasha, I'd be all over you!'

Please!

We made small talk, we moved closer; I stopped jigging and leaned into him slightly, smiled indulgently when well wishers spoke to him. Again that mixture of diffidence, self-conscious embarrassment and expensive arrogance. I wanted him all to myself; I didn't want to share him with anyone else. His arm was around me, light and soft so as not to startle, to calm rather than caress but.

Something was happening.

And the speed of it took me completely by surprise. It started with Martin saying innocuously did I want to circulate, maybe get some air or something? Yes. Something! Where? A few steps found us in the corridor, a few more in one of the bedrooms, half light half furnished and the noise from the party still throbbing into the room. The room had all we needed; there was a bed. Martin shut the door. We stood facing each other. I've waited all my life for this moment. This is my life I thought, whatever I had before faded as we kissed.

We kissed.

We kissed again.

Then longer.

My arms went around his neck, his arms around my waist as we leaned into each other as if to test each other's commitment and strength, to challenge our willingness and to become one immediately. He whispered in my ear. Natasha. Natasha. Natasha?

That's me!

How good it feels!

My breath was now raged, my mind whirring as the oxygen overdose hit my senses. I was becoming whole, inside and out, I felt alive. The desire became more urgent and the grip on each other tighter - the kisses longer the feelings deeper, the arousal more intense because it was shared, not stolen or begged. And for me the first time ever. And with every kiss and every caress I became bolder.

And older.

He pulled back, and held me off him slightly as he breathed deeply. We looked at each other and saw the same thing mirrored there in our bright eager faces. What will happen in the next few minutes will change our lives. We trusted, most of all, which was unspoken.

We trusted each other.

And we had found each other, this was meant to be, it was meant to be now and it was meant to be this way, I thought, but more than that I knew in a way that could not be voiced so deep and private was it, but most of all it was a voice that did not doubt. I did not doubt. I believed. I trusted.

We hugged like the friends who'd never become the lovers we would, his arms light around my waist and mine heavier around his neck. Again he whispered in my ear.

Natasha.

Natasha.

He buried his head into my neck and pressed his mouth to my ear, his breath slowing and becoming more rhythmic, more calming. I matched my own ragged sighs to his, a breath for breath rhythm as we fought to bring each other down, down to savor the pleasures to come. To not spoil the feast in our urgency to devour it or miss an emotion in our haste to climax. To taste all to it's full entitlement. To taste each other.

His lips again found mine, crushing and bruising, then light and playful as his tongue teased mine and each entered the other's mouth, withdrew and then returned. Repeatedly.

More.

And more was to come as his hands tugged my t shirt out of my jeans and then they lay on my bare flesh, cool then hot, hot then cool as his fingers slowly stroked and fluted my skin.

Again that beautiful masterful rhythmic pulse fired through me as I took my lead from him and again matched him breath for breath and sigh for sigh. I quickly pulled my arms from around his neck and in one movement my t-shirt was off.

No man had ever been closer to me, and on these terms one never would again. The girl was going now, the girl who had been me all my life, her time had come to be gone, to become part of my past, a sexless lonely past. Her days and nights would be no more. Savor the moment Natasha that girl whispered to me, her voice fading as she accepted her time had come to leave me.

Mark this time and mark this space for you will never pass this way again I told myself in a jumble of emotions and thoughts that struggled to be caught by my fevered heightened conscience.

We kissed more, harder and eagerly as my hands caressed his neck and pulled his face closer to mine the better to get to his mouth his tongue his fire as his hands gently touched my breasts through my bra, then tighter and tighter they squeezed.

Oh God and tighter still!

I lifted my arms as he pulled my bra off without unhooking it, again we came together. His fingers now teasing my nipples, squeezing and rolling then gently then a sharp pinch then gently again as if not to startle me.

I became the rag doll I didn't want to be, the effigy, the sex machine and Martin felt it. He loosened my arms from around his neck and pulled them to his chest, instinct took over as I undid his shirt and circled my hands on his chest, firm rather than muscular. My head then buried in his sparse but coarse hair, my tongue tasting his skin as Martin, head back exhaled deeply.

No rag doll me now.

I'm a player!

Bolder and older by the second!

The girl was going, going......

Abruptly Martin gripped my arms and pushed me down till I sat on the edge of the bed as he turned away. Two paces to turn the bedroom light off and in the darkness I could sense a well choreographed move as he sat himself beside me on the bed, his hands on my neck, my hair, my breasts, my God, my moment.

In the dark, my senses intensified, without seeing I tasted, without looking I felt, without asking I took. In the dark the images were now all in my mind as we helped each other out of our jeans and our underwear, a sharing before commitment, a mutuality before surrender and satisfaction.

I lay back on the bed, naked, as tense as a melody waiting for release, to be caressed and cajoled, enticed and loved, to take flight, to soar, to become alive, to become flesh, to become someone. To be loved.

'Oh Martin,' I sighed into his face as he lay on top of me.

'Where I'm going you're coming with me, somewhere you've never been before, higher and higher,' he said

'I'm ready, just let me down easy.'

I spoke in a voice that wasn't mine, a body voice, not a head voice, a breathless eager sound, discordant and rushed, not measured and settled, it was a voice I had not heard before, and one I once doubted I possessed.

We fit each other perfectly, this is the way it's meant to be I thought as my legs opened then closed around him as he entered me. This was the first time.

It started a spark that began in my groins and ended in my head like the crack of a whip, getting more powerful with each gentle flick as we rose and fell and sex flooded my senses, taking over my mind.

How those gentle movements magnified with each thrust, at first so rhythmic and mechanical, then fluid and balanced as each played each other's desires for a sweet victory and we became as one. The carnal bargain was made each for each other in equal measure. Heartbeat for pounding heartbeat, ragged breath for ragged breath, the rise and fall of our bodies a compliment to each other and testament to lust.

And the girl broken but satisfied.

The girl who woke up a woman alone that following morning, a morning that told it's own tale of the night before. There was blood.

On the bed.

Bright.

Shining.

Red.

NINE

I was leaving behind the summer, my first ever summer I thought as the jet sped ever onward.

We stayed in touch more than daily, almost hourly as he traveled round the world. Sometimes he was up and sometimes he was down. It depended on his creative juices, at the moment they took precedence over my juices, however sweet his drink, surely he hadn't had his fill yet?

I hadn't.

We didn't do phone sex, I guessed he wasn't that sort and he guessed I wasn't either. We both guessed right. I wanted it face to face, in my face, but most of all you know where I wanted it. He did send me a present though, gold, five and a half inches long and a perfect fit. I played with it. Frequently. My second best friend.

Five and a half inches of heaven.

And the song? It song did better than OK, it was a big worldwide hit, Steve dined out on it, got himself a new boyfriend courtesy of the BBC, he also got a new car, several new leather jackets that all smelt the same. I got a new mouse mat and some bin fresheners.

Stick to boy's Steve, a woman would ruin you!

For Martin too perhaps his interest in the medium was waning, he moved from thing to another, obsessing about them till he'd learned as much as he could then he moved on.

I missed Martin, pined for him, my pussy ached my tits tingled and my stomach tightened. I'd catch my breath and almost be dazed some days with desire. Although I wasn't getting any cock I was hot, I'd spent hours in a randy fog, thinking ahead and thinking back, resenting now and still hating normal 24/7. Hating not being with him.

I wanted him, to taste him to smell him to suck him and to lay myself out as a feast for him. Take the best and there'll be nothing left. Without Martin I was alone. We couldn't touch but we were so close. Without Martin all I knew was what I'd always known, an aching loneliness, an unfulfillment, an unspent desire. But suddenly....

A text from him. He was back in London.

TEN

His penis was pink and shiny, would he think my pussy clean and tidy?

Would he thank me as I thanked him as my lips pouted to kiss the top of his cock, kiss it again and then once more before taking the head into my mouth. I savored it for a few precious moments as the head swelled and his shaft stiffened and thickened in my loose grip.

Suddenly for a split second I was looking down on myself in this most forbidden of poses with this most precious of gifts. The feeling passed but left it's mark on me as his hands teased my hair, tressing it through his fingers and letting it fall to my shoulders. Like the lightest of lashes of so many whips riding my desires.

I love this man I thought as I took more of him inside my mouth. His hands were soft now, gently holding my head, giving me a rhythm to match his sighs. At first gently, then hard then harder, his grip on my hair roughening, less teasing and tressing more twisting and pulling as his cock fattened and stiffened still more.

I sucked I stroked I caressed with my tongue, his head his shaft all mine as was his pleasure.

'Fucking hell Natasha,' he breathed rather than said or perhaps I imagined it as I fondled his balls and gripped his shaft tighter and stronger, from amateur to accomplished I went as his head filled my mouth, moist and ready.

Almost ready, almost now.

I sensed his moans rather than heard them as they vibrated through his body into mine through his beautiful beautiful beautiful cock.

Almost ready almost now....

He put his hands under my arms and pulled me up.

We kissed an ocean.

Then it was my turn as Martin laid me so gently on to my back on the bed and again ever so gently spread my legs. We would have no secrets from each other from this moment. We had opened up and exposed ourselves to each other, we had made a bargain, and we would keep it, that precious gift. Trust was its name.

Was it me I heard? Was it my voice, that strange woman's voice again? That body voice? It was.

'Martin, please, please, please!'

Yes.

It was me.

I palmed myself, was it really me so hot, so swollen, so wet?

Martin's hand met mine over my vagina, a slight pressure as his hand matched mine in its rhythm, and then my hands were on my breasts. I squeezed and squeezed then some more, my nipples I pulled I tweaked and then I pulled further till they stood so proud and so womanly, and my hands were at last free to cradle Martin's head as he lowered himself between my wide open legs.

This isn't real, this is not fucking happening, and this is not me. And it wasn't me. Not anymore. It was another me, a new me, he'd taken me, turned me round and made me something new.

His lips met my lips, his tongue my clitoris. Teasing and enticing, inviting it to awaken and to tell him all it's secrets and every nerve in my body was linked to it, I could feel his hot breath on me as he teased me wilder and wilder. But still tender was my love.

His right hand rested so lightly on my lower belly, on my pubic hair, his other hand was on my slit, caressing with a slow up and down motion, palming me gently then fondling me with his fingertips, probing, probing.

First one finger then two fingers entered me, slipping by my wet lips, listening for that gasp from me that told him what he wanted to know, feeling and feeling. His mouth again gently teased my sex as my vena labialis swelled and throbbed.

I was going to come - I could feel it, that quiver, that flutter, that trembling vibration, as my hands gripped his head harder and pulled him deeper still between my legs.

My thighs, wet and sticky, crossed and uncrossed his shoulders as each orgasm, bigger than the previous one coursed through my body, my wet pussy, my tits, my nipples burned, my mouth was dry, my eyes open then closed tight shut as another orgasm pulsed through me.

Fucking hell Martin, don't ever stop.

Almost, almost, almost.

I wanted him on top of me, riding me, riding me, and riding me so fucking hard now, right now!

'Martin,' I gasped as his fingers buried themselves deep inside me, I arched my back and my tits thrust up to heaven as I made to let him reach deeper and deeper, almost, almost now, almost.

And then he was on top of me, kissing me, our hands fighting each other as he grabbed my tits and sucked hungrily on the jutting nipples then his teeth teased and bit, too hard, but never hard enough.

I slipped my hand down between us got his shaft and guided it into my so wet aching hungry vagina. I felt the pain taking away the hurt of so many years!

It felt so good, it felt so fucking good as we drowned out each other's ecstasy with kisses and tongues as Martin rode me and I drove him harder and faster harder and faster till I was sure he couldn't get any deeper into me.

Each thrust pushing me closer to the edge, each thrust a jolt of pain and pleasure.

Almost.

Almost.

Then with a mighty gasp it was over for both of us at the same time, with one two three four five final thrusts Martin shot his load into me.

All of it.

Bless him.

He lay on top of my sweat soaked body for a second or two catching his breath on the damp sheets, he half rolled off me, his hands so kind and careless over my tits. Together we lay arm in arm; sweaty flesh melted to sweaty flesh and the only thank you was our ragged breaths and entwined togetherness.

We slept away our satisfaction and fulfillment. There would be other times with Martin, but this time, like the first, was special.

Then he was gone again and I was alone most nights with his toy, work a blur, my heart ruled my head, my desires my life. The fuse was lit and burning. And then? An email from him came with the first snows in the capital. Want some sun? Pick you up Friday. Let's go to Blix. Blix?

Blix here I come.

Martin was as good as his word and sent a car to take me to the airport, the luxury lounge waiting area then my own private runway to my own private jet, or at least his. I checked through check out in seconds. I was so blasé and poised, there really was a crowd living in me and every so often they'd pop out and surprise me, say hello and I'd meet the new me. Still growing Tasha I told myself, still growing babe. The crowd and me were now on our way to Blix. All of us. With more to come in all likelihood.

Wherever the hell Blix was.

The pilot didn't let on, he just said prepare for a long flight, either the Caribbean or San Diego I guessed. Time would tell as I settled back into the reclining seat, bedroom towards the rear, bathroom en suite with it and bar in front of me and I watched the world go by from on high.

ELEVEN

Speed silver dream

The aircraft passed over the deep and mysterious Sargasso Sea, which slowly turned to turquoise and, in the distance, I could see land. We came lower, passed over islands, reefs, yachts and an endless ribbon of sand, brilliant white, dazzling. We left all that behind going deeper inland and came lower over the lush terrain, a rich vibrant green. Welcome to the lover's playground.

'This is the captain speaking, please fasten your seatbelt and extinguish all cigarettes.'

I did.

'This is your captain speaking, we will be landing in three minutes.'

Nearly there I thought settling myself down.

'This is your captain speaking, please prepare for a emergency landing.'

What the hell! I thought.

I braced myself in my seat, thought of the future rather than the past and then the aircraft landed with a bang and a roar then a scream as it tried to slow itself down. It had lost the battle with gravity but won its next fight as it slowly slowly slowly wound itself down to a standstill.

Recovery time for me as well.

The captain came in with a big smile, opened the side door and pushed the steps down. I needed no second invitation; I pushed past him out of the jet and stumbled down the steps. Martin was waiting for me as promised, in his jeep, an All-American southpaw. He was parked beside the apron and I threw myself in his direction and he rushed to meet me.

The switch from the air conditioning of the jet to the outside air was amazing, immediately my clothes stuck to me and I found it difficult to breathe for a second as the wall of hot humidity enveloped me and hot humanity embraced me. In his arms I came down, his laughter became my laughter, his concern my relief, and I became calmer in seconds as all my tears he kissed away.

I went from blind breathless panic to jelly in his arms, he was there for me, and yes we did hug, hug hug and I felt so safe in his arms. I was so turned on, from high to low to high all in the space of seconds, emotionally on the edge, so loaded, wired and ready to roll.

We tried to make ourselves heard over the roar of the jet which was preparing to depart, but we said the same things to each other, read each others faces and lips so we didn't care, we knew what the other was saying. We were together, that was all that counted!

We hurried back to the jeep and loaded in my luggage which the captain had brought down, just two medium cases, Martin has said travel as light as I could and I did. More attempts at conversation were drowned out by the jet taxiing for take off, we watched it for a few moments as it lifted up in to the air with a wave from the two crew then we set off in the jeep.

We were alone.

At last.

Only later would we share the secrets of how much we missed each other, how we coped, and what we could do to each other as soon as we could.

I looked across at him, he was tanned, and his hair lightened by the sun, his teeth whiter and his eyes a deeper blue. His body looked harder, leaner, rangier. The nerd was going, probably to the same place as the girl inside me.

'Martin, where are we?' I said when I could make myself heard.

'Blix.'

'Blix?'

'You're in Blix with me,' he said squeezing my thigh.

'Just orientate me on where Blix is,' I said to giggles. Shades of San Diego.

'It's Belize.'

'Belize?' I said vaguely.

He nodded. 'Central America, on the coast, just down from Mexico, almost facing Florida, just a few thousand square miles and the population of a small town. The Caribbean if you want.'

Yes I did want, oh and by the way.....

'We nearly had a crash landing when we came in,' I stated.

Martin laughed when I told him what had happened.

'Common sense precaution,' he said, 'short rough runway, big jet, accident's happen.'

'Do your pilots pull that stunt on all the girls you bring here?'

'What makes you think other girls come here?'

'They don't?'

'You're special.'

'Prove it later,' I said squeezing his thigh and then leaving my hand so casually there.

'I will bitch,' he said with a quick kiss.

'Can't wait,' said I paying back his kiss, three fold. Then a hug. Me. A hug!

We were climbing higher now and leaving that far distant view of the coast behind us, the air was noticeably cooler and less humid but still blisteringly hot. He moved through the gears easily, steering just ahead, trying to minimize the bumps and bangs that jolted us, and yes I noticed the repeated glance at my bra less boobs bouncing along with us. What you want I want too babe I thought licking my lips.

'I live in the Maya Mountains,' Martin said as he gunned the jeep up the rough path through the tropical pines with their rich scent filling the air, 'it's cooler, less sticky but it's miles away from anywhere, we'll be on our own up there. No one to bother us.'

'No staff?'

'Sometimes, but not right now, on occasion I have seminars or board meetings here, amazing what tequila and a few topless girls do for business.'

I can guess.

The vehicle roared up ever-steeper inclines, I was bouncing in my seat, getting hotter, I sensed we were almost there in more ways than one. Without warning we crested a hill and Martin stopped the jeep. Welcome to the Garden of Eden.

'God, it's beautiful,' I said as I got out to take in the view.

In front of me was the most beautiful house, single story long and lean and dazzling white with a deep thatched roof. Breathless, I looked at the line and shape, so balanced and so fitting this wilderness, the bushes framing it, the orchids rich and varied waving in the gentle mountain breeze like an ever changing palette, and the swimming pool shimmering its invitation of escape from the heat. We set off again and Martin swung the jeep to a stop in front of the doors.

'Go on then,' he said smiling, nodding at the pool, I need no second invite as I jumped out, kicked of my boots, undid and dropped my blouse and scarf and stepped out of my jeans. One jump and I was in. It felt glorious. I was splashing in delight rather than swimming, porpoising with pleasure.

Welcome home Natasha I thought.

I got out and stretched out at the side of the pool in the cool grass and a shadow crossed me. I wondered where you'd got to I thought as he pulled his shorts down, and I'd wondered where you'd got to as well.

He lay beside me and in the still hot afternoon air looked deep into my eyes and I into his. We kissed passionately in the heat of the day, deep and sensual, against my thigh I could feel his cock stiffen as his hand moved so easily to my breasts as the kisses became fiercer and more intense, as if kissing wasn't enough and wouldn't satisfy.

We were so sexed up, but this we were savoring, no quick fuck this, this was going to be hardcore therapy, long and slow and sweet and deep.

'Just for you and me.'

His hand moved between my legs, my underwear was sodden and offered little resistance to him as he slipped his fingers in. His hand massaged gently at my vagina as if welcoming an old friend he had missed, then moved to my clit as the tempo picked up.

Then it was my turn as I pushed him away and on to his back and rolled up to straddle his waist, it was the third time we'd had sex and it was third time lucky. I was on top of him now.

The sweat dripped into our eyes and down our bodies, it fell between my breasts and mingled with his on his chest. Almost there I thought as that becoming familiar tingle between my legs took hold and my breath caught for a second, Martin's hands on my breasts, mine on his chest, then kissing each other, then pulling away then coming back for more.

No bang this, sex was becoming more special to us every time, almost sacred, as I lifted up slightly with Martin's hands on my hips and took hold of his cock. This was the moment I treasured most.

That first entry, that first tease, that first parting of my lips, the first rub of his glans against my clitoris and I made it last, teasing him harder and more erect as my hand guided his cock almost in then out again, and again. Almost in then out, trying to make this most exquisite of moments last.

To be on the edge and not fall.

Or to be falling and not land.

Or to land and feel no pain.

I love this fucker!

Then I let his cock take my weight, and Martin went deep, sinking his shaft slowly into my moist hole. Welcome home. This is where you're meant to be. Don't doubt it.

Ever.

Not for one second.

I rode him, at first gently, very gently, feeling each wave of pleasure as it rippled through me, then less gently as the ride took hold, but I was still in charge. I looked down at Martin, part smile of pleasure part smile of denial on his face as he held himself back for me. It was my ride and he was going to make it special for me.

The pace quickened along with our breaths, our hearts pounding in unison, we speeded up then slowed down together then kissed some more, the better to savor the moment, to draw it out and to make it wait.

Then I let go.

I rose and fell, my breasts heaving and bouncing, Martin's hands gripped my hips tighter and tighter as he arched and thrust upward to go deeper into me as I pushed down for the same reason. Hot flesh slapped against hot flesh, sexy, rhythmic and hypnotic under the hot sun as our breaths became more ragged, moans of joy became gasps of pleasure, and those gasps became screams of ecstasy and I rode and I rode and rode his cock.

Until.

His hot juices shot up into me, mine down onto him.

I collapsed onto his chest and he held my shaking satisfied sweat-drenched body.

Spent.

Yes, spent.

Till next time.

We lay there together in the still air and the hot sun and I drifted away.

Far far away.

Somewhere else.

Somewhere strange.

Alone.

TWELVE

Are you flying? Are you floating?

Are you flying? Are you floating?

Someone was speaking

Are you flying? Are you floating?

Speed silver dream.

I was back in the sky looking down; Martin had someone in his arms, naked, he was carrying her.

Tenderly.

Are you flying? Are you floating?

I tried to speak but I couldn't. Five and a half inches of heaven, five and a half inches of make believe. Fantasy. Heaven. Was I in heaven already?

So soon?

Was I a sinner?

Perhaps it was hell. Mercy doesn't wash with sinners and salvation wasn't my name. My name is Natasha, hello. Hello?

Can anyone hear me?

Mercy doesn't wash with sinners and salvation wasn't my name. Only one place I'm going since you took my shame. I looked down again. Where was Martin going carrying that girl?

Now the gates of hell are swinging right on open for me but I'll go through them singing don't you give me your sympathy. It must be hell, my skin was burning and the sun grew bigger and bigger.

Are you flying? Are you floating?

Who was that woman with Martin?

Why was she naked?

Why was he carrying her?

Why was she laughing?

Still the sun got bigger and bigger and bigger till I was at its heart, burning burning.

Burning.

Then.

I was cool now, the room was white and the fan turned overhead, it's gentle breeze on my face. Was I in hospital? The room turned and swayed, I shut my eyes for relief. Martin I heard myself saying. Martin, did you come with me?

'Tasha?'

I heard a voice again.

'Tasha?'

'Martin,' I said weakly, trying to sit up.

'No stay where you are,' he said from his seat at the side of the bed, 'you're OK now.'

'Where am I?' I said, still groggy, still reeling.

'You're here with me,' he said kindly, reaching out to take my hand.

'What happened?'

'You fainted,' he said with a concerned smile.

'Fainted? Why?'

'Too much sun, too much change of tempo, you're at altitude remember?'

So confused. I'm a long way from home.

'Here, try this,' he said gently cradling my head, 'put your tongue out.'

I did as he asked and Martin cracked a small red nut open and let its juice drip on to my tongue, I felt nothing for a few seconds then the taste hit me, a bitter bitter taste that made me gag and retch.

Swallow - don't spit. Swallow!

'Take it all in,' Martin said settling me back down, 'just relax, lie there nice and quietly and sleep, it's all going to be alright Tasha, just sleep, just sleep, sleep...'

I woke up in the dusk of a Caribbean mountain evening trying to collect my thoughts, I felt better but idle, rested but weak still. I watched the fan turning slowly above my bed for a few moments sending cooling drafts my way, each one a blessing. Then I saw a small silver bell at the side of the bed, leaning against it was a note in Martin's scrawling hand writing, it said simply,

RING ME!

I did.

'Hello darling,' he said quietly coming in to the room and sitting on the bed, 'how are you feeling now?'

'Million times better thanks,' I said and hugged him. This hugging thing was catching. 'What time is it?'

'You've lost about 24 hours or so,' said Martin with a smile.

'You're joking!' I spluttered. 'and you........'

'I watched over you, close but not touching........for every second.'

THIRTEEN

We walk but we don't talk. We speak and say nothing. Content and confident in each other's company as we walked through this magical paradise. Macaws, multicolored and raucous, wheeled around us, butterflies as large as birds buzzed us as we strode through the jungle paths, past exotic flowers and vines, through wild sugar cane and coffee bushes, their scents filling the air in this perfumed garden. I was under its spell, then the spell was broken.....

....to be replaced by another one.

This time I broke it.

'Martin, what is it? It looks like something from ancient Egypt,' I said as I looked around in wonderment.

'A lot of people think that about pyramids but it's nothing to do with Egypt, it doesn't come from them, these structures are fairly common in all ancient cultures, as if it's something hardwired into our psyche. You want to get closer?'

Yes I did and for once Martin wasn't boring me, his passion and knowledge, his enthusiasm had caught me as well, I was rolling with him on this. All the way. As we walked along the processional route towards the huge pyramid at the end of it, Martin stopped and pointed to a stone about my height, one of several that lined the route.

'This is called a stele,' he said, 'can you see what it shows on it?' he gently rubbed some of the centuries of dust and mildew of it.

'It's a corncob!' I said in surprise.

'That's it! It's maize, the main part of their diet, it's a symbol that crops up everywhere.'

'But who were they?' I asked.

The Mayans,' he replied simply.

We moved closer to the pyramid and shielded our eyes from the blinding sun as we looked up at its majesty.

'It's made of limestone, that's why it's so dazzling, do you want to climb it?' he said holding out his hand.

'Can we?' I said as I looked down the processional way at the steps leading to its summit.

'No one around to stop us, except spirits and ghosts and I don't think they'll mind, besides, it's yours and it's mine, it's here and so are we.'

I looked up at the pyramid shimmering in the haze in front of us.

'We need this,' said Martin taking another water bottle from his rucksack and we both drank gratefully.

'I'd never have believed it!' I said.

'Belize has dozens of them and more are being discovered all the time, hidden away in the jungles around here, all overgrown.'

'Anywhere else it would be one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world.'

'No one comes here, yet. See how it fits in, placed on a slight rise, like a beacon rising out of the jungle.'

'Sort of a lighthouse, you could see it for miles around.'

'Especially when it was built, it would be dazzling.'

'What happened to them?'

Martin shook his head, 'nothing,' he said with a smile, 'they are all around us, millions of them, they were never wiped out, people still speak Mayan, still observe Mayan customs and live the Mayan way of life, a strange fusion of past, present and future all mixed up together.'

We walked further toward the temple as Martin filled in more of their history.

'This was their city, typically groups of buildings around the palace or temple, great care was taken with the alignment and symmetry of their structures, it projected aesthetic and moral values to a wider area.'

Patterns.

On each side of us stele and pillars, buildings and houses lined the main route to the temple.

'The building of temples and shrines probably lead to the development of settled populations and agriculture in the dim and distant past, people who farmed were smaller and died younger than the hunters so there must have been a powerful reason to settle in one place and put down roots,' he continued.

I looked around at the monuments in awe.

'From being simple hunter gathers they settled in one place and began building and growing the food they needed. Why? They discovered the moon and the stars, and the Gods. But most of all they discovered mathematics! That allowed them to create, it was the desire to create that drove human development, look around Natasha.'

Martin was expansive and voluble.

'The first settlers, the first mathematicians, the first creative people paid a huge price for this though, Creativity is destructive.'

Near the temple there was a wide-open area the size of football pitch.

'See that?' Martin said pointing at it. 'It's a ballpark, a sort of basketball court. The trees around here gave them rubber, from this they made balls for games, the games were a substitute for war.'

I imagined the walls around me echoing with the voices of those who came before.

'And this was where they lived?' I asked.

'A place for their king and queen.'

'This was their capital?'

'It was one of several, that is why they were so difficult to wipe out. This was their home too, they were traders and merchants, and they adapted and thrived on change, for them drama was not the old Greek ideal of conflict, for them drama was change. Change and creativity.'

'And they survived?'

'They still exist, from Mexico to far south of here. They were too spread out to destroy by the Spanish, besides,' he added with a shrug, 'they had no gold.'

We walked along the processional way, as wide as a modern road with the ruined overgrown buildings on each side of us, the way led straight to the stepped building at the end, just like a pyramid.

'This was abandoned long ago, so in a sense the Mayan failed but failure is fundamental to the future. Here's another stele.'

I stared at the post and the strange writing on it, 'what does it say?'

'It states there is only one path to follow and it leads there,' said Martin pointing to the pyramid at the end of the way. 'That was where the King and Queen, and the Gods, lived.'

'Martin, this is unbelievable, like Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids rolled into one, where are all the tourists?'

'No one comes here, it's so far off the beaten track.'

'This is another world, another place and another time!' I said as we continued along the processional way hand in hand.

'It was one of those tragedies of history that a less advanced people, the Spanish, inflamed with their righteous Catholicism, disposed a better, brighter, more sophisticated people.'

I suddenly stopped as something caught my eyes.

'Martin! The colors, flashing! What are they?' I said as sharp lasers of light, dazzling blue reflected back from the grayness. I suddenly saw patches of color all over the ruins.

'That's Mayan blue, it has weird chemical properties, it has lasted for centuries, it will always be there.'

'They painted all this?' I said looking round in awe.

'All the colors blue.'

'This is surreal Martin, like another planet. They must have been remarkable people.'

'They were. They reached their peak around the time of Europe's dark ages, while we were burning witches the Mayans were studying the stars, making calendars and doing sums, writing their codices and even predicting the future.'

Still we came closer to the temple at the end of the way. Eventually we stood at its foot and looked up at it. It towered above us, like a stepped pyramid and running up the front of it were steps.

'364 steps Natasha think you're up to it?'

I set my face and nodded yes, 'but why only 364, have they lost a day?'

'The last step is the altar and there they made their sacrifices.'

'Who of?'

'Criminals, prisoners, but mostly young girls, usually virgins, you're safe,' he said with a smile.

'Why so much barbarity among this beauty?'

'To appease their gods, but also I think a deeper reason.'

'Which is?'

'Think of creativity Natasha, think of creative people, think how many hearts they break, how many lives they ruin in their need to create, then look around at all you see here, for the Mayans their art was their life, their life was their art, there must have been a price to be paid.'

'And the sacrificed virgins paid it,' I said quietly as I thought of the virgins led along the processional way to their deaths.

I stood at the foot of the pyramid and took my first step onto it. The stone stairs were pitted and scarred, indented from those who came before, so many of them, I was just one more. We climbed under the blazing sun, Martin a solicitous step behind in case I stumbled. Higher and higher we climbed, the air thinned, the sun was stronger, the sweat rolled into my eyes blurring my vision but still I climbed ever upwards.

The actress in me took over as I tried to imagine the feelings of those virgins, little more than children as they took their last journey on this earth. They were casualties of creativity. This was not to my death, I was no sacrifice but I could feel the worn grooves on the steps under my feet where so many had come this way before me, my breath was now ragged, I was sexually aroused, and, although I couldn't see him, Martin was behind me.

Wasn't he?

My nipples didn't tingle, they hurt, pushing through my thin bra and t-shirt. I wasn't moist between my legs - I was more, and still I climbed in the heat, breathless to get to the top.

The altar!

I told Martin, kind caring sweet Martin I was up for a trip to the jungle and I was, with every step I was almost there. Higher with every step.

Almost.

The altar.

My clothes were now sodden and sticking to me, this was the journey taken by so many, creativity was all around me, so was destruction. Sex and death. I was taking this journey under the burning sun, in the still air, thinning now with every step and I found it harder and harder to fill my lungs. The lack of oxygen was getting me high. Now I was gasping but in didn't stop. I was doing this for every virgin sacrificed here, everyone who hadn't the chance to live and love as I had. Those who died not knowing a lover's touch and penetration, desire and fulfillment.

Almost there.

Almost.

The sweat ran off me in rivulets, my hair was lank, wet and matted, I looked at my hands, dusty and dirty where I had used them to steady my climb up to the 364th step and there in front of me was the last step, the 365th.

The altar!

Those poor girls, all the sacrificed virgins. I felt their pity as I approached the alter and climbed on to it, fingering the grooves made to allow the blood to run down it as they had their beating hearts torn from them but their hymens left intact and bloodless. This would have been their last view of earth, the endless green, and the temple all around them; it dazzled me.

All the colors blue!

I felt alive!

I felt I was living for all those that never had chance, those who passed this way once only. I spread my arms to heaven; I was energized and alive, forever. I looked down at the ground so far below and then looked up as the sun above me grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

Was I flying was I floating?

I realized I was seeing what those virgins saw as their last view of earth, of life itself.

All the colors blue!

'NATASHA!'

To be on the edge and not fall.

Or to be falling and not land.

Or to land and feel no pain.

Instantly Martin's arms were around my waist pulling me back from the edge of the altar. Suddenly I saw I was standing right on its precipice as if to fall.... Martin swung me away and held me as I held him.

Was I the only girl to survive this?

Truly.

What shines a shadow also casts.

FOURTEEN

I faced Martin on the big leather cushions by the pool, we had been swimming, had a kiss and a cuddle, fed and groomed ourselves, touched each other up, frequently, and freshened up, feasted on cheese and home made bread, we were tipsy. The first bottle of wine was already gone. We weren't. We had all night ahead of us.

'You look good,' he breathed across to me from where he sat on the cushions opposite.

Just beyond arms reach.

Fuck.

Bra less and barefoot, tight jeans and t-shirt.

I know I look good.

Clean fresh and pink to slightly tanned.

'What comes next?' I teased him.

'Your call,' he said but made no move towards me, his gaze was level, almost challenging. I can take a hint.

I touched myself through my jeans and then some more, I began to rub myself slowly and rhythmically, feeling the coarse stitching against my mound and feeling good. I thrust my pelvis up and rubbed harder, both hands, alternative hands, then both together again, rocking my hips and rubbing my thighs as an involuntary sigh escaped me.

He raised his glass in a toast to me sexing myself up.

I took the hint some more and carried on rocking my hips, this time a little more suggestively, rolling them slowly from side to side, enjoying him enjoying the show I was giving him. Keep watching lover, there's more to come.

A lot more.

The sensation of muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing, my thighs, my loins exhilarated me but I played it slow and cool. We were going nowhere but here. My audience was special to me that night. That night was special.

I was getting hot down there, too hot, so I slowly, oh so slowly unzipped my jeans, lifted my bum up and slid them part way off, making eye contact at every move with him, then I took them right off and kicked them away. What the hell. It's party time with Tasha and Martin.

Keep watching.

He did, eyes bright and lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling evenly under his shirt. Without any underwear I was free but I played coy, covering myself up between my legs gently with my hands, playing now you see it, now you don't. His gaze was still level, still challenging, still baiting. How far do you want me to go Martin I thought as my fingers rubbed my lips then gently circled my clitoris?

I slid a finger into myself and then out again so swiftly but his eyes said he noticed it as he caught his breath slightly. The gentle breeze played across this sexy little scenario carrying its exotic scents and rich spices, the lanterns swayed and shadows danced across the lovers in paradise. Truly I was a long way from home. Primeval savages.

'Such a sexy girl you, so sexy,' Martin breathed it.

'How much do you want me?' I breathed back, a sibilant hiss in this Garden of Eden.

These were heady days and nights but more, much much more was to come. So much more. I teased my clit more vigorously, spread my legs wider, all the time keeping eye contact, all the time challenging him as he was challenging me. I was moist now, moister then normal. Too moist?

When Martin came over to kneel between my legs, I pulled my hands away to my breasts, tore off my t-shirt and splayed my thighs.

His expert touches.

He teased my labia, twisting it between his lips, gently then almost angrily as I banged the side of his head with my hand. I could play rough too; I could take the pain and cause it I thought as the heel of my hand slapped his head again harder. He took the hint, pulling my labia up and out between his lips again, then with his left hand he massaged my clit in a slow slow motion, his other hand he slipped between my legs, making a fist, which he pushed into my mound.

'No Martin, no,' I heard myself mutter as his fist pushed in deeper and deeper, trying to force its way through my lips then that slow rhythm on my clitoris began again. This time, one then two then three fingers entered me, sliding fast and urgent against my walls, twisting and pushing, turning and teasing as they moved inside me. Then he was stretching and unfolding my lips, Christ, how much bigger did he want me?

He reached over for one of the wine bottles, then poured the wine over my Venus, my mound, massaging it in and licking it up from the folds of my skin. Sucking and slurping, missing nothing.

Every drop savored.

Then together we inserted the cool hard bottle between my lips, the raised lettering round the neck rubbing against my clit.

So sweet.

Something was happening; I'd never felt like this, never felt so randy. Something truly wonderful was happening to my body. I was going somewhere I had never been before.

The wine bottle was now deep inside my wet pussy, my hands were rocking the bottle back and forth, once so cool it was now so hot and sticky.

I lifted my fingers and offered them to Martin. He licked eagerly then I thrust the bottle deeper and deeper inside me, could it really go that deep I thought as the ribbed neck rubbed my clit even more, teasing it back and forth, so slight the movement but so powerful the feeling, on the precipice, right on the very edge.

Ready to fall.

Catch me again Martin.

My moans he smothered with kisses, his hands strong firm and unrelenting on my breasts, his strong fingers kneading them expertly as equally expertly I was masturbating myself with the bottle.

Don't stop, please please please, don't stop!

On and on we went getting higher and higher in a passion I'd never known before, more abandoned and raw, we were going somewhere sacred and divine as orgasm after orgasm after orgasm surged through me, driving me mad with desire, racking my body, I heard my screams.

Almost now.

Almost!

I was ready to come, my tits tingled, the nipples so red and so hard, my pussy swollen and sodden, the bottle, once so cool was burning, almost too hot to touch. I was on fire. I screamed for release, I begged for it, set me free set me free set me free from the pleasure surging through my aching body.

Martin suddenly took the bottle out of my pussy.

He reached down to insert his fingers into my slit simulating me roughly and eagerly as he sensed the moment was now now now.

NOW!

MAKE ME CUM MAKE ME CUM MAKE ME CUM.

No woman's voice this; this came from the depths of my carnal soul, a harsh banshee wail, and a rasping discordant scream in the throes of ecstasy.

MAKE ME CUM MARTIN PLEASE MAKE ME CUM MAKE ME CUM. PLEASE

PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING HELL MAKE ME COME MARTIN MARTIN MARTIN!

I came.

He pulled his fingers out and jerked my lips roughly apart. His hand gripped my throat, pushing me back.

Gushing and squirting, once twice three times then more and more, a fountain of cum that brought me blessed relief as it ejaculated out, so pure and rich. I arched my back and fought against his grip on my throat and splayed my legs even further apart as still I came. I screamed and screamed and kept screaming in the throes of passion. Agony and ecstasy impersonated each other as I rode the waves of rapture as they rose up over me.

I twisted and bucked as it flowed, jetting and streaming out, higher and higher as my vagina pulsed with pleasure.

MARTIN MARTIN HOLD ME HOLD ME FUCKING HELL HOLD ME HOLD ME FUCK FUCK YES MARTIN YES HOLD ME MARTIN MARTIN MARTIN MARTIN HOLD ME HOLD ME HOLD ME I SCREAMED AS THAT FOUNTAIN OF VENUS SHOT INTO THE NIGHT.

So fucking hot so fucking hot so fucking out of control I came I came I came I came!

Then it was over.

Again he held me.

FIFTEEN

I felt safe in with him and fell asleep as the furies of Charybdis raged around us. They were still raging when I awoke. How long have we been here now?

It seemed like hours, in the dark, away from harm, though there was fear I was strangely content, as if my fate was now in the hands of the immortals. I drifted off to sleep again still cuddled up to Martin, my head on his chest, his arms calm and kind around my shoulders. Here we would stay till it was safe.

The roaring grew louder, the screams of demons and denizens, all you fear deep inside came to visit that endless night, the night the mountains shook and the Gods raged and stormed at us, the mere mortals who dared, now safe in our womb.

We hoped.

Like creativity it was all in the mind.

That reward would be to cheat our existence, to leave more in this world than we brought into it. To have more in our lives than the Gods had ordained for us, and that was all it was, cheating the Gods again.

The Gods didn't like being cheated, that is why they made the very act of creativity so hard for mere mortals, we had to overcome our earthbound limitations and fly, or float. Most people never slipped the surly bounds of normality. We did. But it came at a price.

The Gods viewed that they alone should create, and destroy too, for both belonged in the same painting or poem, the same song or sum. The Gods would not punish us though.

That punishment would come from our own devices. The creativity and then the destruction was in our own hands, and fates.

SIXTEEN

Another flash, another bang, another scream of surprise and delight as the fires arched through the sky and showered sparks on the spectators.

'How do you like our fiesta?' said Martin.

'Brilliant,' I said breathlessly, our faces lit by more fireworks.

'We survived the hurricane, this is our reward,' he said.

It was just last night we had spent in the cellar of his house, lying on cushions till the storm abated. We went into the world at dawn when its fury had spent with renewed energy and life, celebrating in a paradise remade as we were reborn, fresh, new and glistening.

We had taken Martin's jeep the hour or so drive to one of the local villages to join in the party. We watched the fireworks, sampled the local food, and drank the bark wine, a heady earthy tonic, a milky white fluid tasting of excitement and exotic adventures in a place where I was a long way from home. In more ways than one.

The village the fiesta was being held in was a fusion of old and new, a gathering of modern houses and leaning shanties built among more ruins, this though was smaller than ours was. The temple had long since been mined for its stone over the centuries, they had been recycled into roads and dams, schools and hospitals for the locals. What the hell they were Mayan, it was their temple; they could do what they wanted with it.

They were their Gods after all.

Martin and I followed the crowds as they made their way through the town till we came to a large rectangular amphitheater, along with everyone else we took our seats on the warm stone gallery surrounding it.

'Remember the ball court?' said Martin, 'the one at our temple?'

I nodded.

'Well, watch what happens now!'

To a deafening roar two teams came out onto the court, one in red and one in white, seven a side. They were dressed as for a soccer match but with pads on their knees and elbows. They faced each other and then looked up at the stands where we stood cheering. One of the teams pointed at me and approached with a large ball, slightly bigger than a human head.

He moved through the crowd and handed me the ball; it was heavier than I thought, as I took it Martin spoke. 'You have to throw it onto the court so the game can begin,' he shouted over the cheers.

Could I do that? It was heavy, but could I not do it?

No way was I going to let anyone down so with a scream from me and another roar from the crowd I threw the ball down to the court over the ten rows in front of us.

Then the game began!

The players could not kick or throw the ball; they used their knees, forearms, chest, and thighs, even their heads to move it down the court and score. A score was achieved when they got the ball through a large stone hoop mounted twenty feet up a wall at each end of the court. The hoop was mounted on a stone wall, smooth and clear that sloped back at a slight angle so if the players got enough momentum they could run up the wall and put the ball through the stone ring. Alternately others in their team could make a human pyramid and help them up. More pyramids. During the game Martin explained a little of its origins, in olden days the ball would have been a human head covered in the natural rubber that abounded in the forests all around here.

We both joined in enthusiastically as the play swung from end to end, as in battle no quarter was given and every score sent the crowd even more delirious, till after an hour of play the game ended a draw and we left, the high still not exhausted.

Night falls, the laughter fades and the voices grow faint. We walked hand in hand till we came to a small stone gazebo, almost a bandstand, a small covered stage well away from people.

Tonight's entertainment wasn't over yet. I was still high.

Very high.

You're hot in your heels hot in your stockings you're hot in your heels, you're hot you're hot.

Yes I am Martin and what are you going to do about it you randy fuck I thought as I groped him roughly between his legs and felt his cock grow hard. He didn't speak, his actions were enough as he reached out and squeezed my breast and pushed himself forcibly against me and we rubbed each other up. I felt it between my legs, that urgency, that warming up don't let me boil over feeling, that ready and waiting feeling. Natasha wants it. Now!

Martin spun me round till my back was to him. I felt his teeth on my neck, that most exposed and sensitive part and his hands were rougher still on my breasts and my hand, busy behind me, pummeled his cock. I wanted more than sex this time; I wanted sex and something else, something different. I wanted to feel more, to match the intensity of the evening, something that would take me higher than I was already.

Fuck me Martin.

Hard.

A rip as the front of my dress came down, the thin straps no resistance to what he wanted and what I wanted as well as my head rolled back, and the bites and nips on my neck intensified. His hands brought my breasts up as close to my mouth as they could be, just enough for my tongue to tease my own nipples as Martin pulled and pinched.

Can you give it me the way I want it?

His hand was then up my skirt, bunched it up at the back, a sharp tug removed my panties and I leaned back on him for support and raised my left leg, jarring the heel against the rough stone to lever myself into him.

A rough moan escaped my mouth as his fingers sought me between my legs, a slow deft circular motion that sent wild spasms through me with a series of mighty sighs as he pressed deeper and deeper into my slit.

I was ready for more; I wanted both pain and pleasure. I wanted taking to the edge again and this time I didn't want saving, I wanted to fly without falling.

You fucking whore!

Martin's hand was still up my skirt, my underwear now gone, his other hand was around my neck squeezing harder and harder, his tongue and teeth alternately teasing then raking, nipping and biting my neck my earlobes my mouth. We were going further than we have ever been. Martin you fuck that's too tight!

I felt dizzy then his grip on my throat relaxed, then he squeezed again, harder and harder, I now rode with it, I could take it, in fact I wanted more.

His other hand was palming me between my legs, hard and rhythmic, the night was spinning, it was more than the music and the wine. Martin was taking me somewhere I'd never been before and I was not going to miss it, whatever it took, whatever price I had to pay I would pay it.

Come on you dirty fucking whore!

The dress was now around my waist, my breasts reddened and bruised, the nipples hurting with sweet pain as Martin's roughness raged, now it was my turn. I could take it. And I could give it.

Look at this size of this fucker I heard him say as he got his cock out, pushed me to my knees and rammed it into my mouth, the first made me gag, the second didn't, then I took it all in, deep throating him as much as I could. He face fucked me, pulling my hair, and pushing himself even more violently inside my mouth.

I pulled away from his cock and took over with my hand, twisting and constricting his shaft, watching as the blood swelled it bigger, then I pulled his skin back over his glans till it was raw. I took it between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed it, making the slit at it's end wider, ran my tongue over and into it then my nails too till the pain shot through Martin's body. At the moment we both realized that the hurt passed two ways, him to me and me to him. What you give is what you get. Bring it on!

He pushed me up against the wall, that old rough wall, hard and bare and I braced myself against it as if that was my only friend tonight.

Come on you whore, you dirty fucking whore!

Martin was then behind, teasing my lips as he rubbed his penis against them, but he still wasn't inside me. Then with a mighty heave he entered me, pushing me hard against the wall, then pulling me off it as his hands gripped my hips. I was going nowhere and loving every fucking minute of it.

I squealed as Martin gripped my hips harder and rammed into me more frenetically, there was nowhere I could go and nowhere I wanted to go. Flesh slapped against flesh, getting angrier at each sound as if to drown itself out or better itself every time in its wildness. My moans, his rasping breath, come on you fucker come on harder and harder I screamed, was that the best he could do?

Do me harder, dirtier, rougher and tougher.

Use me.

Hurt me.

Trust me.

I trust you!

Martin pumped his cock into me faster and faster and faster!

With a huge roar from him and a deep throaty scream from me it was over, for a few seconds we were locked together as in passion. Then we parted.

'OK Tasha?' said Martin breathlessly.

I just nodded blankly. I didn't trust myself to speak, nor to walk for that matter, my lips were so sore. My dress was gone; I arranged it over my shoulders as best I could but it still exposed my breasts. What the hell. I didn't care. I was sweaty sweary smelly and spitty.

As we left the bandstand we both smiled at the two old ladies who had been watching us. They smiled back.

We sat in the car, Martin gave me a kiss on my rough disheveled hair and we set off. I looked around at myself, yet another person had popped out and surprised me. Still growing babe. I was also still as high as a kite. I was going to take along time to come down from this.

SEVENTEEN

We got back into the Jeep for the drive home, traveling along dark roads, headlamps beaming bright, Martin sure and in control as he raced through the gears, me napping a little despite the bumps from the increasingly uneven road. The air was supercharged, another storm was gathering. There was a strange stillness all around us. We were on a deserted jungle track when Martin spotted it first and suddenly killed the lights and tried to swing off the track but it was too late!

A truck was coming towards us, its lights blazing. It stopped right in front of us, blocking the road and spotlighting us. Two, three, then four men got out, dark and muscular, bare chested and wearing just shorts. They had bandannas around their heads and machetes like long curved swords at their sides. They surrounded the Jeep and ordered us to get out with fast aggressive gestures. I took a quick glance at Martin, he just nodded. We got out and stood together. Who were they? A drugs gang? Terrorists? Bandits?

I stared at them, the sweat gleaming on their bodies and the danger in their hard dark eyes. They walked around us and the Jeep in obvious disdain. They were unimpressed by that or us. I held Martin's hand as I watched them, dark, swarthy and well armed.

Martin seemed calm and collected, as if nothing could hurt him. I knew gangs operated here, the border was porous, and anyone could come or go as they pleased. I knew little Belize was slowly been taken over by the drug cartels. It was the perfect place to ship drugs into the US.

'Americano? Guarani? Mexicano?' Martin spoke fast in Yucateco, the local Mayan dialect and catching them slightly off guard, then switched to English, 'what do you want?'

'Off you? Nothing, you have nothing worth having!' the alpha bandit laughed at his own joke, the gold jewelry on his wrists and the chains around his neck rattling. 'You might just as well be dead,' he added with another laugh.

He stopped the laugh suddenly as if killing us would be more fun than laughing at us. Had I come all this way to die? I moved even closer to Martin, if we were going to go we were going together.

The man who spoke was obviously in charge, his muscles gleamed; real muscles, not from a bottle or a gym. The muscles of a hard ruthless man. He spoke English perfectly with a slight drawling Caribbean infection.

Suddenly he grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. 'What is she worth to you?' he demanded, his bright white teeth gleaming. I struggled but he only gripped me tighter. 'What would you pay for her safety?'

'I wouldn't hurt her if I was you,' said Martin calmly. This wasn't the geek Martin, the nervous nerd. This was another Martin I hadn't seen before. This Martin was sure of himself. I knew why too. For the first time in his life he was fighting for someone else. Not himself.

'Oh, is that a threat?' the gunman said laughing and looking round at his henchmen who joined in the joke.

'It's not a threat, it's a promise,' said Martin evenly, all the while holding the bandit's gaze.

'Do you know what I can do to you?' the bandit hissed at him.

Martin shook his head slowly, 'there's nothing you can do to me that can hurt me. Ever,' he said slowly and quietly.

The leader pushed me to one side, drew his machete and faced Martin, facing him and ranting in Yucateco. He waved the razor sharp blade in Martin's face as he shouted.

Martin didn't flinch; when he'd finished ranting Martin spoke, replying slowly and quietly in English. 'You know nothing about me, where I'm from or what I've done, but let me tell you this, I can deal with any situation you give me, and I do mean any situation.'

The leader waved his machete and ranted again, more ominously, his henchmen coming ever closer, the headlights gleaming on the blades and the bodies. Their grip on me tightened but Martin stood impassive, his body language strong. He spoke quietly in Yucateco again, making eye contact first with the leader then his henchman one by one. They faced each other in the dark lit only by the headlights, suddenly the gunman spoke in Yucateco to his henchmen. One of them grabbed Martin as the others dragged me away. They bundled me into the back of their truck as Martin struggled to get free. I could feel the electricity in the air, the flashes of lightening coming closer. The storm was about to break!

I looked back as we set off. I could see Martin, a machete at his throat as they held him back. Suddenly one of them struck him and he fell, his neck pouring blood.

 

EIGHTEEN

I was lying on a bed, a bed somewhere. It was hard and digging into me, and I could hear something, but what?

I tried to move but I couldn't. My drug and drink bedeviled senses lost their footing. Reality was fleeting. Foxed, I was mentally reeling and rocking. A crackling, a rustling, then a hiss. Then silence, then it started again. I tried to remember but it was so hard.

I didn't know where I was. I'd traveled here in the back of a truck, then I'd been given some food and some drink, it made me sick. Then I was thrown into a small room. They'd kidnapped me, Martin was left behind. Slowly parts of the last few hours came back to me.

It was a shack. Yes, I was in a shack somewhere, in the jungle. I could hear the sounds of it all around me. Jaguars growling and howler monkeys howling. It was a camp, a clearing in the jungle. There were barrels of fuel there. I saw them when I arrived. Martin had said small airstrips were carved out of the jungle for aircraft carrying cocaine. They would land and refuel on their way north to the lucrative US market. Martin? Where was he? With a jolt I suddenly remembered when I had last seen him. At the side of the road. A machete to his neck.

Suddenly there was a crashing sound from outside and a shape was moving towards me. Tall and rangy he came to the bed, I watched as the shape came closer.

I reached out to it.

NINETEEN

We raced away in the Jeep, we heard shouts behind us but they quickly faded. They didn't seem to be following us. I looked over at Martin; there was a smile on his face, so slight, as he looked across at me. Suddenly he stopped. A few spots of rain began to fall and he drove under a canopy of trees for shelter.

'You came back for me?' I said reaching out for him.

'I wanted to, I couldn't leave you with those savages. Without you,' he faltered.

'They made me drink things,' I said trying to remember the ordeal.

'We're safe now,' he said holding me, 'they've gone.'

'I was so frightened,' I began to sob as the events caught up with me. He wrapped his arms around me.

'It's OK now,' he said. 'It's all over now.'

'How did you get away?'

He shrugged.

'Did you kill them?'

He didn't answer.

I pulled away from him and looked down at myself, I was still naked and something was glistening on my breasts, slick and wet. It was blood.

'You're injured? Your neck,' I said in shock.

'Just a nick,' Martin said with a shrug that made him flinch.

'Martin no,' I said as I saw the savage wound on the side of his neck still oozing blood. 'Let me bind it, take your shirt off.'

He did as he was told and I made a rough bandage for him out of it. The cut was at the side of his neck, where it met the top of his shoulder. Thankfully it had missed the arteries, but it was still bleeding.

'We need to get you to hospital,' I said.

'It should heal OK.'

'No Martin, this is the tropics, even a small wound can go septic.'

'There are remedies, local ones......' the rest of his answer was drowned out by an almighty crash of thunder as the storm broke at last. The rain poured down. Within second rivulets ran down the road. We were trapped. The canopy of leaves above kept the deluge from us. We had no choice but to wait it out here. The road was now a river and impassable. No one had followed us from the camp, I guess Martin had set fire to the vehicles or the fuel or something. I wanted to ask but I knew he wouldn't tell me.

Together in each other's arms we dozed.

I awoke at first light and looked across at Martin, the bandage I had made was caked with dried blood. It had slipped slightly. There, on his neck was a small scar.

The wound had almost healed.

TWENTY

The news playing in the background had no news. Wars, celebrities, politics and things that just happen pushed my Martin out of the headlines. Out of my life. It just ended, once he was there beside me, inside me, enveloping me in love and warmth. Then he was gone.

And never again that sweet goodnight kiss.

TWENTY ONE

The Mayans predicted the future.

They also predicted the end of the world.

December.

I spent Christmas with my parents.

I had my memories, my tokens, but I also had something else. Something far more precious.

Martin's last gift!

TWENTY TWO

There was no escape from my grief and guilt.

My holiday ended and I went back to the UK. Martin had some work to do in Belize. He would then go to the US and I would fly out to join him.

I never saw him again.

He was presumed dead in a helicopter crash in his beloved jungle paradise.

Search parties found nothing, no helicopter wreckage, no bodies, nothing had been found. It didn't surprise me. Belize was largely virgin jungle. Away from the coast road the infrastructure was poor. It also had one of the highest murder rates in the world as the Latin drug cartels moved in. The government tried but it was a losing battle. Their beautiful country was lost to them. Other people had gone missing, medial workers, missionaries and so on. None had ever come out alive. I still hoped Martin would.

I did all I could to find out about Martin, whether he was missing or dead. I contacted governments, diplomats, embassies, and even posted a reward.

None of it helped.

Martin was gone.

I blamed myself.

There was so much about him I didn't know, things he didn't share with me. That blame was because I failed him.

TWENTY THREE

Another me another time another place another life.

You wouldn't recognize me now, I almost don't recognize myself sometimes, and so many things have changed.

Still, I won't get to thirty something semi detached suburban semi satisfied and suffer looking back on what I'd missed, when a good day was when it didn't rain or the plumber kept his appointment.

I lived.

Just once.

I VOWED I WOULD LIVE AGAIN.........................

 

THE END