A Month of Summer Ch. 1

The room was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the chime of glasses, a drift of soft music rising from the piano standing at the corner of the room near the doors to the terrace.

He moved through the rooms, greeting and smiling, inserting himself into conversations, effecting introductions with casual energy. It was like a dance whose steps are so well known that partners could be acquired and lost without the pattern faltering - indeed, the discard became part of the pattern and between his solicitations for new companions he moved with thoughtless power through the weave of bodies.

He stopped to claim a cold beer from one of the small bars scattered around and stood with it beside a clutch of potted trees, drinking and surveying the possibilities of the room. He heard a soft swarm of laughter next to him, his eyes caught a smooth coronet of auburn hair, a rush of black silk, she moved past him towards the bar and he heard her laughing protest to her companion.

'No, Jeffrey - really - just a small glass of wine! I don't dare have more than that, I'll be stumbling over my fingers!' and she took the glass smilingly proffered and sipped.

The sounds of the room fell into an unimaginable distance, his fingers tightened around the slick coldness of the beer bottle and he was conscious that his heart had sped up. It couldn't be . . . he moved closer.

Her voice was filled with laughter, teasing. The laughter sent an unmistakable shiver down his spine, he was suddenly sure.

He watched, sipping at his beer, speculating. When she excused herself and stepped through the glass doors out onto the terrace, he followed.

She stepped across the deck and leant upon the railing that separated it from the sea, slender form covered in light and shadow, long neck arched as she gazed at the tattered clouds racing across the moon. He moved closer.

She heard him, turned. The breeze had torn tendrils from the smooth waves of her hair, tiny columns of curl twisted against her throat, her temples. She watched him calmly, her fingers toying with her wine glass.

'Hello there,' she said finally, as he came to stand beside her. The fitted lines of her dress clung to her in the face of the wind, he could feel the warm smoothness of her skin reaching out to him. He took a step closer, set his bottle down upon the railing, looked at her.

She turned away slightly, nervous of his silence, his eyes over her. His fingers reached out, closed about her wrist.

She started, looked up into his face, faltered. His eyes were intent on hers, his fingers slid down to lift her hand from the wood, rubbing gently over the long fingers.

'What are you doing here?' he asked finally, his voice a low inquiry, his hand raising her fingers towards his lips.

She tried to pull away, but he held her hand in an inexorable grip. His lips brushed across the back of her hand, then his eyes rose to meet hers. They were wide, blue, incredulous.

'Margaret,' he said, and watched her eyes widen with sudden recognition.

'Carter?' she breathed at last, and he could see the sudden speed of her pulse against her throat.

'What are you doing here?' he asked unsteadily, mouth dry with the unexpectedness of her.

'How did you -?'

He could not stop himself, both of his hands found on her shoulders and his body closed with hers until he could feel the warmth of her through his clothes.

'It was your voice . . . all those phone calls . . . your laugh . . . I don't know, I just knew. What are you doing here?' he repeated, his eyes on hers.

Her hands flat against his chest, she looked up into his eyes, breath caught in her from tension. 'I'm working,' she said. 'The next month . . . I've got a job at the hotel, playing.'

His heart pounded. 'Here?'

'Yes. Here.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I was going to, after I'd settled in and - '

'Where's your room?' he interrupted, very conscious of her, aware that they couldn't be alone much longer.

'I can't leave until after my next set,' she said, 'and even then, I think we should wait -'

His fingers tightened, shook her, crushed her against him. 'I've waited. Which room?'

'110,' she whispered, and he could feel her legs tremble.

He ached with the need to touch her, but forced himself to pull away, recede from her. 'In an hour,' he said, his voice raw. 'I'll be there in an hour.'

Against the pale light, he could see her nod, see the way her arms wrapped around herself. He left her while he could.

Back in the hot room, too brightly lit for him, he circulated automatically. He became aware of something that plucked at him, called him, stopped for moment with his head turning to isolate the sound.

The woman standing next to him caught his eye and nodded towards the piano. 'It's lovely, isn't it?'

He slipped over to join the crowd around the piano. Her hair was still torn by wind, curling about her face, her fingers moved gracefully, surely across the keys. Delicate passion twined through the room, the music barely restrained. He could feel it surround him, stroked into being by her hands, her face dreaming, unaware.

His hands clenched at his sides, aching to capture her. He forced himself away from the piano, to where the music still called but could not inflame him. Slowly the room cleared of people, he sensed her rise to close the piano, acknowledge compliments, moving through towards the door. She turned at the last to search for him, finding him at last and letting her eyes fall, a slight flush on her cheeks as she turned into the hallway and disappeared. His eyes followed her, then fell to his watch. Only a few moments.

He forced himself to wait.

When he stood outside her door, the sense of immanence was crushing. But she had been listening for him, and the door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. He came inside silently, pressing past her to stand in the center of her room.

She closed the door and leant against it, watching him. She was still dressed for playing, the thin black silk of her dress setting her hair into flames in the dim room.

'Come here,' he said hoarsely. And she stepped towards him, slowly, until untouching they stood face to face.

He had intended tenderness, but his hands were rough on her as he pulled her to him, crushed her body against his and groped for her mouth with his own. She resisted him, twisting slightly in his arms, until his mouth locked on hers and he kissed her with a passion that left her dizzy, defenseless.

Inside of himself a heat that would not wait, a desire he could not master. His hands slid beneath the skirt of her dress, sliding up over the cool silk of her stockings to the warm smoothness of her bare thighs to where he could feel the warmth of her through the lace of her panties. He groaned low in his throat and his fingers bunched in the thin fabric, pulling until the lace shredded, tore, came away in his hands. Without warning, his fingers plunged into her, found her wet, her flesh hot. He heard her moan, try to marshal her body to pull away from his sudden invasion, but he was too strong to let her escape. Back onto the bed he pressed her, his mouth still locked on hers, his fingers plunging between her legs with a desperate violence.

He ignored her wordless protests, with his free hand he undid the belt at his waist, then the button, then the slow rush of the zipper. He kicked the trousers free of his legs and grabbed one of her hands, forcing the fingers around his cock. He saw her eyes leap open as she felt him, then he was in between her legs, his body forcing her knees apart. He was nearly dizzy with the heat of her.

He arched himself, then in one swift thrust he was inside of her at last. Dimly he could hear her cry out as he entered her, but she was so hot around him that he lost all control. Gone was any thought of slow, of tender, of teasing. Desperate with the need of her, he took her, plunging into her shuddering body again and again, merciless. Took her with his hands hard on her, took her until he could feel her body arch, twist, rise beneath him as she gasped helplessly at her climax.

Into her, sinking, losing himself until he felt the tight clutch of heat begin to dissolve through him and he impaled her on his cock, holding her still, grinding into her and then filling her with the hot explosion of his orgasm.

He fell forward against her, gasping for breath, hearing her soft moans beneath him as her heart slowed. After the longest moment, he was able to look into her face, kiss her slowly. Her eyes were wide, dark, astonished, but her arms slid around him, pulled him towards her.

Her lips beneath his were filled with promises.