Enjoy the Silence

From Enjoy the Silence 2

"Ok, it has to be your room, Emma."

"That's the correct choice," she said and she picked my bag up and walked into her room.

I sat on the edge of the huge king bed, my feet about six inches off the floor as she sat easily beside me.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"You have great taste, Emms," I said. "This house is a credit to you, but this room is just perfect, it's you in every detail."

"Thanks, Chris, coming from you that's a huge compliment."

She kissed me softly, her eyes searching mine as I returned her kiss and took her in my arms. We separated after several minutes and she rested her forehead against mine, a whispered, "Thank God," clearly audible.

"Keep talking like that and you might just get lucky tonight, young lady," I said.

I sensed her smile before I saw it as she lifted her head. Her hand touched my face.

"Is that right?" she said.

"Yes," I said, touching my lips to hers.

Escape the Silence 3 of 3

She clutched my head with her hand as her lips met mine in demonstrable desire. I held her tightly for fear she'd stop and returned her kiss with equal, if not more, desperation as my fingers touched her breast in passing, a loud sigh indicating her yearning. In my haste I fumbled clumsily with the top three buttons of her blouse, the depth and passion of her kiss almost scrambling my brain and inhibiting my motor skills and coordination as I finally slipped my fingers inside.

She moaned as she felt my hand gently cup her pert breast before slipping it below the swell and holding it for a beat as I savoured the softness and the tangible beauty of its construction. She broke the kiss to open the rest of the buttons before slipping it off and pulling me down onto the bed with her, out to guess engaged filly as my fingers touched her nipple, slowly tweaking it and testing its tolerance.

"Oh Christ!" she moaned as I took her nipple between my lips, feeling her hands pulling my polo shirt up at the back, and off over my head.

I moved slightly to assist, easing us both on to the centre of the bed as our lips sought each other's, meeting hungrily for sustenance before returning my attention to her breasts and focusing on her other nipple as my hand found the zipper on the side of her skirt, slipped it down a short distance and watched as her hand opened a large green button before pulling the skirt off and kicking it away, leaving her with just a very brief white lace thong.

"Chris," she moaned seductively, almost as a reflex.

I could sense her heightening arousal as her agonised whimpering became more and more anguished. I could feel the effect of the heavy flexing of my rampantly erect penis as it oozed heavily in anticipation and heightened desire. I slipped my hand between her thighs, a light haze enveloping her skin just below her vagina.

Remembering the strength and volume of her ejaculation, I moved my lips swiftly to her abdomen, kissing her skin with my lips and tongue whilst slipping her thong away before resting my face between her opened legs as she pleaded for my touch.

I kissed the inside of her thigh, just millimetres from her groin, as I unzipped my trousers and slipped them off, leaving us both naked. She bent her knees and I pushed them apart as her glistening vulva seemed to shimmer in want and need, her pitiful sighs pleading for my touch, distracted and impatient as her hips rose and fell until I acceded to her desires and slowly touched a soft tongue to her soft inner pink petals as she whimpered almost in gratitude at the gentle intrusion.

I longed to just remain there, savouring her taste and her scent, both part of my dreams for many years, but her body betrayed my longing as a loud cry signalled an onrush of an uncontrollable release as an orgasm ripped through her and a viscous explosion of her delicious ejaculate squirted over me, covering my face before I could do anything to limit the flow onto the bed covers.

She clamped my head between her thighs as she sought succour through the interminable waves of a prolonged period of aftershock, her release an intoxicating inhalation as she held me fast while the convulsions abated. When I could look up at her I saw that she was watching me with a smile of joy on her face, her eyes shining as her beauty shone through the tears that flowed from her eyes. It was a defining moment for me and I just wanted to hold her in my arms.

I moved to hold her, cradling her to me as her tears flowed down her face before pooling on my chest. She breathed deeply as she fought the powerful emotions that almost overwhelmed her, eventually quieting as a serene calmness descended on her before she mumbled something and ran to the bathroom. I rested my head on the luxurious pillow, my eyes trained on the door as I waited for her to return. My thoughts were of the sublimely perfect previous thirty minutes or so as visions of Emma in the throes of aroused desire and orgasm reeled across the panoramic screen of my mind's eye.

She returned to the room with a shy expression, turning quickly to close the door fast and padding softly across the beige carpet before slipping back into my arms and kissing me as I smiled at her return.

"Sorry, Chris," she said. "I was a little overly emotional for a bit."

"Are you ok now?" I asked.

"Yes, you're so good at that and I'm not used to such intense intimacy or tenderness."

"I can tone it down if you prefer," I said, hoping that she didn't ask me to leave her bed.

"No you won't!" she almost shouted. "It's the most beautiful feeling in the world."

"For me too," I said, relief coursing through me.

"Are you tired?" she asked, stroking my chest.

"A little but not overmuch," I said, "you? We didn't get much sleep last night if I remember correctly."

"Tired would be the wrong word," she said, "floating works better."

"Let me get you under the covers," I said.

"Not just yet, Chris, you're still hard. Can we fuck?"

"If you're ok to," I said.

"I think I'd die if we didn't," she said as I turned her on her back.

She was beautiful as her head rested on the white pillowcase beneath her. Her face glowed in the dim light from a pair of wall sconces above the period fireplace of the Victorian bedroom. Her eyes shone and a shy smile danced around her mouth as our lips slowly met and resumed our luscious connection. Her hand felt for my penis as it rested against her thigh while our kiss deepened, a low groan rising inside me as her soft hand wrapped around my shaft.

"I want you," she whispered in my ear, her arousal evident in the cadence of her voice and her hand encouraging me to move between her legs as she opened them to receive me.

She led me to her damp vagina, slowly stroking her vulva with the head of my penis as she sighed in tortured anticipation. We kissed as she placed my tip inside the mouth of her pussy, deep breaths accompanying the first incursion as her warmth shrouded me and I penetrated her with a slow progression that made her tremble as her arms wrapped around me and held me close and clung to me when I felt fully inside her.

We lay still for a few precious moments, her vaginal muscles squeezing me as though ensuring it was really in place. A tremulous murmuring sound rumbled from somewhere inside as I moved slowly within her, using my full length to tantalise her with slow deliberate movements as her sighs ramped up and became louder as her breast heaved and fought for air. I rested on my elbows and could see her eyes closed fast as her lips made silent utterings. She was even more beautiful as her inner fire began to rage and her sighs gave voice to her desire.

"Fuck me, Chris," she pleaded breathlessly and I increased the tempo of my thrusts.

She moaned loudly as my entire length slipped deeper inside her, our hips moving quicker together, her movements matching mine as we found our true rhythm.

"Oh God," she cried out as I felt her vagina almost grasp my cock and hold it while she battled against the stimulation, attempting to prolong the sensations coursing through as her ardour built and her moans reached a crescendo that quickly developed into a loud cry and an accompanying release of ejaculate from her that perfumed the room with her sweet scent as her orgasm rolled relentlessly through her, the delicious movements of her hips carrying me along as mine followed quickly behind, shattering my resistance completely as my penis flexed wildly inside her whilst stream after stream of my seed surged flooded her vagina, leaving us both almost catatonic together on top of the counterpane.

Emma's head rested on my chest, over an hour of exquisite lovemaking wiping her out after what appeared to have been a restless night for her. Although she painted it over in broad and happy hues, I was aware that this whole affair was preying on her subconscious, despite her outwardly optimistic expressions. I thought back to her words and compared them with her actions and my heart was at peace. I dozed off beside her and we woke some hours later, still in each other's arms. I strained my neck to check the time beside the bed. It was a little after noon. My movements disturbed her and she woke with a softly spoken greeting.

"Hi," she said, her hand flat on my chest.

I placed mine on top of it.

"Good afternoon," I said. "Happy Saturday."

She laughed quietly and moved onto her back to stretch her arms above her head.

"I need coffee and a shower," she said, "and not necessarily in that order."

"I'll make the coffee while you do the rest," I said.

"Thank you, do you know where everything is?" she asked.

"The important stuff," I said and she laughed.

"You certainly do," she said, "I can testify to that."

"Yes, but not on the stand at your divorce trial."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "some of these judges need to be reminded sometimes."

She touched my face and kissed my cheek before easing herself out of bed and walking, naked, to the bathroom. I pulled on a shirt and shorts and made my way to the kitchen, where I started work on the coffee. I heard the shower running as I switched on the radio that was built into the kitchen cabinetry, mindlessly singing along to 'Panic' by The Smiths. As I waited for the percolator to do its thing, I picked up my work satchel and pulled out the file for the College of Surgeons' proposal, placing it on the table and quickly becoming engrossed in it once again.

"Are you going over the accounts again?" she said as she joined me in the kitchen.

"No, I'm not really wired for that, Emma," I said. "This is real work to me."

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a proposal and estimate," I said. "I'm miles behind on it since everything blew up."

She poured coffee for us and came to sit beside me, her hand touching my upper arm as I explained the project to her. The sun shone through the window as we sat together. I could see the trees outside in the huge rear garden, almost denuded of their leaves. Her eyes followed my gaze.

"A penny for your thoughts," I said, taking her hand.

"I'm just thinking how Jake never appeared to even think about work in his downtime," she said.

"That's Jake," I said. "I don't think he bothered too much during his work time either."

"What's his actual role in the company?" she asked.

"Vice president in charge of fucking around, by the looks of things," I said. "Officially, he's supposed to be the front person, taking meetings, making proposals, networking on sales and stuff like that. Mine was technical and design."

"It looks like you've traversed into his territory though," she said indicating the open file on the table.

"I know," I said, "I don't mind, it's taken me a while to become comfortable doing that side of it, Emms. I was like a fish out of water the first time I tried it."

"When was that and why did you have to?" she asked.

"It was back in June. Jake wasn't available," I said simply.

"Where was he?"

"Fuck knows, Emma, I just got on with it," I said. "It started when we were running low on funds at the bank and we found that there was an unsettled final account that had been overlooked by him."

"Is that part of his role?" she asked. "Chasing money?"

"Yes, but this was a big account, Emms, and we were talking over €75,000 that was over three months outstanding."

"Did you bring it up with him?"

"Several times," I said. "He ignored me, so I took it upon myself to meet with the client and iron it out."

"Did you get it sorted out?"

"Yes, after a lot of haggling, we got a cheque for €68,000 out of them," I said.

"I thought it was €75,000 that was due," she said.

"Jake just said to take the hit since it kept us liquid," I said. "This was a normal occurrence for him."

"A ten percent discount?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "We took it and moved on but he said not to take any more work off them again."

"Who was the client?" she asked.

"Veritas Analytics. There's actually a new enquiry came in from them only yesterday," I said.

"Has anyone followed up on it?"

"Not with all of this stuff going on," I said, "I just saw the email last night."

"So if you took this on, could you handle the College of Surgeons job too?"

"Yes, we're also in the middle of two other jobs with one more supposed to start in two weeks' time," I said.

"Maybe Jake was too busy working on those," she said.

"Hah! Doing what Emma? He might as well be looking into an empty barrel," I said. "He has no expertise in the actual project management or knowledge of the scope of the work involved."

"So who does it all?"

"We muddle through with Jess, Paddy, a new guy, Ronan Kelly, and me, while Jake is out schmoozing new clients and finessing money out of them."

"Which isn't working," she said.

"Yes, but I just step in then."

I heard her stomach growl and felt the emptiness of mine. We laughed at the noise.

"Let me take you out for lunch, Emma," I said. "I'm fucking starving too."

"Where to?"

"There's a few good spots in Ranelagh," I said, picking up my phone and checking them out, "although FXB's on Pembroke Street would be my choice."

"Is it not too late for lunch, Chris?"

"I'll tell you now," I said as the FXB web site loaded on my phone. "No, it ends at 3:00 and there's a few tables available at 2:00. Do you fancy it?"

"I've never been, but I hear it's the best steak restaurant in town," she said.

"The sixth best in the world, allegedly, but their Crème Brûlée is to die for."

"Fuck it, I'm convinced," she laughed, "you shower while I get dressed."

We arrived at 1:55 and enjoyed the cosy dining room, some fabulous food, wine, and each other for over two of the most perfect hours I'd spent in what seemed like forever. She held my hand across the table as, Anna, our waitress, sidled up to us.

"Can I interest you in dessert?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm on a promise," Emma said to her with a wicked grin.

"Oh," she said, feigning something akin to mild shock whilst attempting not to laugh. "You'd prefer a different type of dessert then?"

"Touche," Emma said and they bumped fists, "he promised me a Crème Brûlée, he said it was the finest in the land."

"I've never had better," Anna said.

"Nor have I," Emma said, "but back to dessert. Can you bring us one to share please?"

"One Crème Brûlée and two spoons coming up," Anna said and turned to leave, I stopped her by taking hold of her wrist.

"Just one spoon please, Anna," I said, as Emma blushed and smiled at us.

"This is such a wonderful day," Emma said.

"We should enjoy it while we can, Emms," I said. "Situations, like those in which we find ourselves, have the propensity to change quite quickly and without warning."

"I realise that, Chris," she said, "but I'm damned if I'm going to let myself be defined by something that I had no control over or had nothing to do with."

"You drive very fast," I said, somewhat out of the blue.

"What?"

"You drive very fast," I said. "In your car."

"What? Where did that come from?"

"Nowhere, it just occurred to me there."

"I didn't break any speed limits did I?" she asked.

"I wasn't watching your speed," I said. "It just seemed to me that you were driving fast."

"Yeah, it's the car that makes you think that," she said. "I often have to check myself but I'm usually well under the speed limits. I've never been stopped for speeding."

"They probably couldn't catch you," I said laughing.

"When I bought it Dickhead wasn't too happy," she said. "He said it was an extravagance we couldn't afford."

"But he forced you to leave a job that paid you six figures per annum?" I asked. "What an idiot."

"I was the idiot for leaving it," she said. "It gave him an authority that he didn't have, buying that car was part of my retaliation, but I wanted it too."

"It was also €50,000 that he couldn't spend on prostitutes," I added.

"True but it was over triple that, Chris."

"Wow! Well done, Emms, I admire you," I said. "Is it an MSport?"

"Yes, it's an M440i xSport Coupe," she said. "I always wanted an MSport but never had time to drive it."

"It beats the shit out of mine, Emms," I said. "But I bet my stereo is better than yours."

"You and your music," she said. "You've never changed have you?"

"We should test out your stereo, just for kicks," I said. "There probably isn't a CD player in it though, is there?"

"Not that I'm aware," she said.

"That's because of the inferior harmonics," I said as she smiled at me with a long suffering expression.

"Yes, that's what it is, the fucking inferiority of the harmonics," she said, laughing, "whatever the fuck they are."

"Oh, well you see..."

"I'm joking, Chris," she said. "I don't really care. The best I can do is to Bluetooth your phone to my car and let you make your case."

"The winner has to accept an evening of oral attention," I said with a grin.

"Can it be broken up into say, fifteen minute periods, for consumption over, say, a thirty day period?"

"The winner makes the rules on that, but my question would be who's timing it?"

"Would it be better measured in orgasms, do you think?" she said, her voice lowering in the hushed atmosphere of the restaurant.

"That can be considered," I said. "But, occasionally, a multiplicity of orgasms may occur. There are also other factors to consider such as are the orgasms reached orally, digitally or by penile stimulation. In that case does the multiple count as a singular orgasm or several separate individual climaxes?"

"I don't think I've ever experienced one of those, Chris," she said, "so I'm not in a position to respond from a knowledge based position. However, so that this can be established, I would be prepared to assist in conducting the appropriate research beforehand."

"You're very thorough, Emms," I said. "I've always admired that about you. The only questions I have are when and where can this research take place, and does it take the form of calculating an average, based on a longer experimental period?"

"I think the latter should be the consideration, Chris," she said. "After all, there are external factors that have an effect on these things."

"Such as?"

"Without offering a conclusive list, I'd say that a lot depends on the mood of the participants, the air quality and temperature of the room and the setting," she said, "I'm sure other factors would reveal themselves as the process evolves."

"Do you have a putative testing period in mind?" I asked.

"Well no," she said, "but most research projects can take over ten years to complete satisfactorily and I'm sure that you, like me, would prefer a definitive outcome to one that was a simple Ad Hoc, thrown together model that could be stripped apart by a simple argument from someone who is not qualified enough to determine the intricacies inherent in the process."