Chapter Twenty-Seven
Caroline reached out and stroked his flank, feeling like a character in a historical romance novel trying to gentle a wild horse. Frank shook his head slowly as he cleaned himself off with the towel, still with his back to her, his naked buttocks and legs, the intricate muscles of his back such a beautiful sight that in other circumstances she could have stared at him for hours. What if he climbed out of the Jacuzzi and walked away?
But Caroline refused to panic. Pleading with him – being as vulnerable as his wife was insulated and tough – had got her what she wanted before. Why shouldn’t it work again?
‘Please, Frank,’ she said softly, ‘can you sit down next to me for a little while? I feel really funny.’
With a deep sigh, he turned around. His face was smoothed clean with physical release: he looked ten years younger for a little while, before his forehead started to crease with worry and guilt about what they had just done.
‘Please, Frank,’ Caroline repeated, and, with another sigh, he sat down on the edge of the Jacuzzi, slid his legs into the water and dropped back into the foaming bubbles. She nestled against him and his arm came around her, which emboldened her to rest her head onto his shoulder.
‘That was amazing,’ she said softly. ‘I know we shouldn’t have done it, but it was amazing.’
‘Jesus, Caroline,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe that just happened.’
‘I know, me neither!’ she lied. ‘But it was wonderful.’
There was no answer, but his arm tightened a little around her. They sat there for a while in silence, and though Caroline was burning up with eagerness to say more, she managed to control herself, knowing that she must not rush him.
‘This is a mess,’ he said finally. ‘A real mess.’
She turned her face into his shoulder.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘This is all my fault. I begged you – I wanted you to . . . I should never have done that, but I wanted you so much . . .’
When this didn’t immediately provoke a response, she pulled back, covered her face with her hands and pretended to cry into them. There was so much water around them that he couldn’t possibly tell that she was faking, not if she gave her eyes a good rub to redden them a bit.
‘Caroline, don’t cry!’ he said, as she had known he would. He wrapped her in a hug; resting her head gratefully on his chest, she kept pretending to sob.
‘I just feel so bad!’ she mumbled. ‘I care about you so much, and it was so wonderful, so amazing . . . it hurts to think it didn’t mean anything to you . . .’
‘I didn’t say that!’ he assured her immediately. ‘I never said it didn’t mean anything to me! It was great, really great.’
‘Being so close to you just felt so right,’ she tried, pushing things further, and for response she got another sigh and a slightly tighter hug, which she took, at least, not as a denial.
‘You’re really sweet, Caroline,’ he said after a while. ‘A really sweet girl.’
Pulling back, he looked down at her, gently pushing some loose strands of hair back from her face. Then he reached down and took the edges of her bikini top, lifting it up, covering her breasts once again. Caroline didn’t know whether to see this gesture as an ending, a definitive line drawn under what had happened between them, or him taking care of her, wanting to preserve her dignity.
‘Thank you,’ she said, deciding to take in the best possible way everything he did that could be interpreted ambiguously. ‘I probably shouldn’t say this –’ she ducked her head shyly – ‘but I’m so happy. I shouldn’t be, but I am.’
‘Oh, Caroline,’ he said almost tenderly. There was a long pause, and she waited eagerly for what he would say next.
‘We should get going,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s late. Time to go to bed.’
She nodded as he reached over to turn off the Jacuzzi.
‘Can you help me out?’ she said in a small voice. ‘I feel really wobbly.’
‘You should drink some water,’ he said, concerned, starting to climb up the moulded steps, holding out his hand to her. ‘Let’s get you hydrated, okay?’
Once she was out of the Jacuzzi, he told her to wait there while he got her robe and slippers and a cup of water from the gym area. She thanked him, looking up under the fake lashes, letting him help her with her robe, watching him stare involuntarily at her breasts again as she drew out the process of slipping it on; once he had donned his own robe and flip-flops, she asked if she could hold his arm as they went, because she was still feeling dizzy. Frank turned the lights off on the main panel; they stepped into the lift, and she half-collapsed against him, apologizing for her weakness, so that his arm came round her, holding her up.
When the lift stopped on the first floor, and they both stepped out, the master suite was immediately to the left, with Caroline’s guest suite all the way down the other end of the corridor to the right. She felt Frank hesitate, his arm not immediately leaving her; within its curve, she turned and looked up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them.
‘Please, just stay with me for a little!’ she pleaded under her breath. ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight . . . I still feel dizzy . . .’
The kids and nanny’s bedrooms were all on the third floor. No one could possibly overhear her and Frank; this conversation was entirely safe.
‘Oh, Caroline,’ Frank said, looking down at her, his forehead creasing, but his eyes soft, as conflicted as he had been ever since they had had sex. ‘I really shouldn’t . . .’
‘Please, Frank, please! Just till I go to sleep!’
She managed to get a little sob into her voice.
‘I don’t want to be alone – it’d feel so sad, after being so close to you . . .’
He pulled her close, hugging her, for a moment. Then he turned in the direction of her room, taking her hand, mumbling:
‘Just for a short time, okay?’
Curled up in bed, Frank’s arm over her waist as he spooned her, both of them naked, Caroline’s heart was still racing so fast that she felt as if she had taken amphetamines. Even with him in her bed, she was in disbelief that she had pulled off her plan so successfully. She didn’t care how much she had had to beg or plead with him; in fact, every time she had done so, she had felt a strange sense of power. Making herself vulnerable, oddly, had also made her strong, because it had caused Frank to behave in a way he knew that he shouldn’t; her will had overpowered his many times that evening, and he still didn’t realize it. Ironically, he thought he was taking care of her.
She snuggled against him, but didn’t say a word. Having lured him back with her, she had seen, as they were towelling off in her bathroom, how nervous he was: the whites round his eyes were showing, his movements were jerky and nervous. He was like an animal she was convincing, slowly, tentatively, to trust her.
What he did not realize was that she had a secret weapon. She was particularly well-informed on everything that he liked the best.
Frank loves naked spooning! Lexy had said, in one of the many stream-of-consciousness monologues recorded for the book, open confessionals that she had made with Caroline’s Dictaphone running. Caroline had listened to it live, and then again as she transcribed the tapes. He’d do it all night, Lexy had continued. I get too hot and I have to wiggle away after a couple of minutes, and he gets so whiny when I do . . .
Caroline remembered those confessionals very, very well indeed.
‘I didn’t want to be alone either,’ Frank eventually said against her shoulder.
She had thought he was falling asleep, hadn’t expected him to say a word. She whispered back: ‘I was scared you wouldn’t stay with me. I’m so glad you’re here.’
‘It’s been so tough,’ he mumbled into the pitch dark, where he was finally safe enough to confess to a sympathetic listener how isolated and sad he had been feeling these last few weeks. ‘With her never getting in touch, literally as if the kids and I didn’t exist any more. Not a word from her. Nothing. I’ve been so lonely.’
Caroline reached around to touch the hand that was lying on her hip, and stroked it comfortingly. Frank’s fingers twined around hers, holding hands with her, and she felt his lips touching her shoulder in a light kiss.
‘I didn’t realize how lonely I was,’ he said. ‘Touching you, holding you . . . it’s what I want. Someone to hold at night, every night. I’ve been missing that so badly.’
Caroline’s hand, clasped in his, pulled his up to her lips so that she could kiss his fingers.
‘I keep thinking, what if she doesn’t come back?’ he said, the words sounding as if they were being dragged out of him. ‘What if the only thing I hear from her is a letter from her lawyers? And if she hasn’t been bothered enough to get in touch by now, do I even want her back?’
Caroline smiled into the darkness. She was picturing Frank’s iPhone, his Gmail, the messages and emails that must have pinged so frequently against the blocks she had set up before Lexy went to Switzerland, the letters she had removed from the hall table and burned, ritually, in her bathroom. It was a delicious pleasure to be able to smirk with triumph as Lexy’s husband lay beside her, telling her he wasn’t sure about the state of his marriage.
Lexy, who had nicknamed her Ghost Mouse. Lexy, who had everything Caroline wanted. Lexy, whose husband’s hand Caroline was holding as she lay beside him naked.
Without saying a word in response, Caroline lowered their linked hands until Frank’s palm was resting on her breast. Their hips were not touching, but soon, very soon, she knew his body was stirring, could feel his breathing get faster, shallower, his heartbeat speeding up. He shifted, and the head of his cock butted against her buttocks; she let out a moan and edged herself backwards, just fractionally, pressing into it.
Frank becoming excited again so fast was no surprise to Caroline, one of the reasons she had pushed so hard to have Frank come back to her bedroom was because Lexy had frequently boasted to Caroline about Frank’s sexual prowess.
He wants it all the time, she’d said. It’s like being married to a horny teenager. I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong – I’m really horny too. We’re at it like rabbits! But Frank uses sex like a tranquilizer. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t gamble. Working out and sex are his two big things. He’s got to do both on a regular basis or he gets a bit mental.
It hadn’t remotely occurred to Lexy that her ghostwriter was not just listening, but internalizing every single word she said, bitterly resenting Lexy for not just her great good luck but her willingness to show off about it. Caroline didn’t need this level of detail for the book. Frank had stipulated from the start that details of their private life were off limits; he would appear on the show with good humour, be filmed in family scenes, but absolutely not shoot anything intimate between him and Lexy. Other reality shows put the stars’ sex lives very much on display, filmed scenes with them naked in bubble baths, making out; the wife surprising the husband in sexy lingerie, the husband, oiled up, doing a stripper routine for the wife clad in just a skimpy thong.
Lexy would have done all of this and more for ratings, but Frank was the sticking point. Their sex life was not put on television, and it would not feature in the book either. So there had been no need at all for Lexy to overwhelm Caroline with unnecessary details about her wonderful husband with his big cock and strong sex drive, to make poor, single Ghost Mouse listen to this torrent of bragging. Caroline had sat there silently, burning up with envy, imagining herself married to Frank, having sex with him all the time, anywhere, everywhere; sucking his cock with the technique Lexy described for the book; letting him do anything he wanted to her, anything at all.
Did Lexy know, when she told Caroline all these details, that Caroline was in lust with her husband? Often, Caroline had thought that Lexy did. It would have been different, maybe, if Lexy were warning Caroline off because she considered Caroline a rival. That would have been flattering, in a backhanded kind of way.
No, it had been much worse, Caroline decided. Lexy had been absolutely oblivious to Caroline’s feelings, incapable of imagining that drab little Ghost Mouse was capable of attracting Frank for a moment; she had been showing off gleefully to someone she felt was beneath her in every way. It had been obnoxious, insufferable. She deserved to be punished for it. She deserved to have her silent, intent listener take everything she had been told and use it to seduce Lexy’s husband.
After all those confessional tapes of Lexy’s, Caroline knew, better than Frank could possibly imagine, what he wanted. She took his hands and pressed them once more to her full, bare breasts.
‘Please,’ she sighed. ‘Hold them, hold them tight . . . God, I love it, I love to feel you squeezing them like that!’
Frank would seriously just walk around the house holding my boobs if he could, Lexy had said. I wake up and he’s got his hands round them. I go to sleep and he wants to hold on to them till he passes out. And when we shag, he’s always at my tits – fucking them, motorboating me, everything you can think of. Just can’t leave them alone.
Frank let out a deep grunt as he grasped her breasts, started to knead them, play with her nipples.
‘I love having my boobs played with,’ Caroline said, wriggling her buttocks even closer against his cock. ‘Oh my God, yes, like that . . . oh Frank, you’re so big . . .’
He shifted down the bed, climbing over her, his lips finding her nipples again, licking them, mouthing them, as Caroline’s hips started to buck.
‘Oh yeah,’ she moaned, ‘I love it when you kiss my tits like that!’
Tell guys how much you love what they’re doing, Lexy said. They can’t get enough of that, trust me. Then you can ask ’em to do what you want much more easily, because they think everything you’re saying is totally positive.
Frank was kissing down her stomach now, his hands firmly clasped around her breasts. His knees planted themselves between her legs, pushing them wide, and she moaned louder when she realized what was going to happen. She was clean and fresh from the Jacuzzi; she had no embarrassment about him going down on her, not since she had broken through her previous limits, learned how to ask Riz for what she wanted. She spread her legs and tilted up her hips and as his mouth closed around her she pumped against it and thrashed her head and let the sensations build as she closed her hands over Frank’s, squeezing her breasts still more, delighting in the fact that she knew that her crotch was exactly how Frank liked it: neatly trimmed, but not shaved.
Frank doesn’t like a woman to be hairless, Lexy had said. He’s always says how creepy that is – only a perv would fancy that, he says. I had to grow my pubes out for him. Tidied up, but a natural shape, you know? Not a landing strip or anything too fake-looking.
And certainly, the way he was eating her out could not have been more enthusiastic.
‘Just this once more,’ Frank groaned after she had come again and again, kissing his way back up her belly, reaching down to his straining cock, guiding it between her legs as she gasped eagerly. ‘God, you’re so wet . . . just this once more . . . I’ll pull out in plenty of time, I promise – I just need to fuck you once more . . .’
‘I can suck your cock,’ she moaned. ‘I want to suck your cock . . .’
‘I need to fuck you now,’ he said with great conviction, and she switched gear immediately.
‘Yes, Frank, please, please, do it!’ she sobbed. ‘Please, fuck me, please, I want it so bad!’
She had realized already that a shift had happened. She was still pleading for her needs, but now he was vocalizing his too.
‘Just once more,’ he said, hissing between his teeth, lifting her, pushing her back so she was half-sitting up against the pillows; this way he could hold her breasts as his cock slid into her, starting to pump away. ‘Oh, fuck, yes, I need this, I need this, just once more . . . I need to be inside you . . .’
Caroline wrapped her hands around his muscled, hairy forearms, more glad than she could say that it was too dark for him to see the swell of her stomach in this position. She was as limp as a rag, drunk on happiness, as she held on to him, as he worked up a rhythm, pounding away at her; she had come so much already that just lying here was more than enough for her. Frank’s scent was all around her, his hands heavy on her breasts, his knees holding her legs wide as his cock thrust inside her.
If I can just keep this going, she thought, if I can just keep giving him what he wants . . . a wife with big tits who’ll fuck him twice a day . . . please, please, let me be clever enough and quick-witted enough to keep this going, so that when Lexy comes back he’ll be conflicted about who he should be with . . .
As Frank pulled out, threw himself onto his back beside her, groaning as he came again, his sperm running down his sixpack, Caroline ran through a to-do list in her head:
Buy a really slutty push-up bra
Buy condoms
Poke holes in them
And, after a moment’s consideration:
Ring Lexy’s pap agency.