Trinity Ch. 01

Then Robin and I made love. I didn't want anything anal, I just wanted to feel as Ela had felt, so I lay back on the bed and opened my legs, drawing him on top of me and inserting my cock between his thighs. I kissed him deeply, clutching his sweating back and smooth, taut buttocks as we rocked back and forth together. Unexpectedly, Ela began caressing our bare feet, kissing and stroking them as we moved in rhythm towards climax. We gripped each other tightly and kissed as our cocks throbbed together. Our sperm spurted out, mingling between stomachs and thighs. After a moment, we disengaged. Clearly, they were both well and truly shagged out and not up to any repetition of the previous night, but somehow I didn't want Robin sleeping with us, so I bundled him off to the spare room. The Ela and I dropped off to sleep, lying side by side, not touching. Something moist, dark and invisible now crawled between us.

On the Sunday morning, Ela and I showered and dressed, then I went to wake Robin.

"No, I'll do it," she said. "You're too much on edge. Get the breakfast ready."

She seemed to be taking her time, so I went to the spare room with disquiet curling inside me. She was kneeling by the bed, they were kissing and she was stroking his hair. They gently drew apart as I entered.

We had our usual 'wet' breakfast, then Robin took his leave. He left us another couple of bottles he'd brought with him the night before.

"You keep the booze," he said with a slight tone of contempt, "I think you two are going to need it."

And that was the end of the encounter. Although we met up with Robin a couple of times afterwards, we didn't repeat the experience. It was difficult to say who had manipulated whom - after all, we all got what we wanted. I had indulged my masochistic fantasies to the hilt. Robin had got to thoroughly fuck the girl he wanted and would no doubt boast about it - especially in that bar. Ela had also indulged her fantasies to the full. She changed as a result. She was more self-assertive now, more radiant and sexy than ever before. She was far less reserved, walked with more of a bounce, her hairstyle changed to tumbling curls. She also dressed more provocatively - often in black leather - and wore far more make-up.

I kept pressing Ela for another threesome - with a girl this time. But she was adamant.

"We've realised our fantasies - more than enough. That's the end of it," she replied.

I also kept pushing her for more details about what had happened that Saturday night, but she wouldn't co-operate.

"Look, forget it, it didn't mean anything - it's over. It's you I love and only you".

I wasn't convinced.

"But why did you go with him?" I asked, almost in tears.

"I didn't expect to get laid. We just wanted to talk."

" About what?"

"You mostly."

"Oh yeah? And what were you saying?"

"He just gave me some good advice," she replied.

"About what?"

She turned to me and gave me her direct, intense look. "That's between him and me," she said slowly, quietly and with emphasis. I was stung to the core.

"But how did you end up on the… on the… on that fucking waterbed?" I persisted. I was determined.

"I don't know," she answered. "I didn't intend to, it just happened. I suppose we just wanted to do it once together in private."

"But how many times did you do it?"

"A few times, I don't remember exactly," she faltered.

"What do you mean, you 'don't remember'?"

"Oh fuck off!" she burst out defiantly, swearing for the first time since I'd known her. "What do you think I am? You all think I'm some kind of great fucking 'love machine' but that doesn't mean I keep a fucking tally!"

I'd never called her a 'love machine'. And what the hell did she mean by 'you all'?

"Didn't he notch the bed?" I asked, with what I hoped sounded like cold contempt, although I was burning up inside.

"Just try doing that on a waterbed," she replied, smiling sweetly, thrusting in the knife.

"Did you 'come'?" I asked, determined to drive the knife even deeper.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fucking hell! What do you think? I suppose I was a fucking virgin that night, right?"

"Maybe you'll find out you're pregnant after two nights of having your brains fucked out," I sneered. "Whose kid would it be?"

"No way I'm pregnant," she replied.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Didn't you use any condoms down in…that place?"

"Did we use any on Friday night?"

"Maybe you've caught something."

"Yeah. And maybe you have. Maybe we both have. We'll just have to see, won't we," she said, with another sweet smile. And that was that.

She absolutely refused to give me any more details about what they'd done, but from then on, if ever she mentioned the waterbed, her voice would became more guttural and sensual, and her eyes seemed to assume a mocking expression. She would use the waterbed as a weapon, gently taunting me with it whenever I deserved it - which I often did.

No, there was no pregnancy, no deadly, flesh-devouring STD's, but this was the beginning of the end for us. I just couldn't continue living in that apartment, passing every evening beneath that sinister, crimson-lit, veiled window above the bar. It didn't seem to bother Ela at all.

"Look, you'll just have to live with it," she would say. "It isn't important, really. Just forget about it."

But how could I? I couldn't avoid passing under that window every day and when Ela and I were together I kept watching to see if she'd glance up there, if there'd be any subtle change in her expression - something lascivious, reminiscent. Though I often imagined I saw it, I couldn't be sure and couldn't openly challenge her for fear of her twisting the knife in.

Yes, maybe it had been stupid doing what we did, but I think the mistake was not so much in doing it - we freely acknowledged to each other that it had been a terrific, supercharged encounter - a peak sexual experience for both of us. No - the mistake was in my subsequent attitude, my jealousy of Ela's obvious liberation, and of that secret she now held with Robin, the one from which I was excluded forever.

It doesn't take much to see who wore the fool's cap in this story. Yes, I'd got what I wanted all right - but I'd bitten off more than I could chew, I just couldn't handle it. It was a case of "careful of what you want - you might just get it." That old Pandora's box. Shortly afterwards, in retaliation, I began an affair with a student of mine I'd always fancied. This, of course, is another story, albeit a continuation of the same strangely unfolding web, but it was a stupid and hurtful thing to do for all concerned since I knew I still loved Ela desperately. Eventually she had enough. We separated and divorced.

I'm now back in Europe. I often visit North America these days, but never that 'dark city' where I made such a fool of myself - where I lost her. She's still there. We remain close enough friends at a distance - both of us unhappy about our separation. She hasn't remarried, but obviously there's been a succession of boyfriends. I even heard from a mutual friend that she and Robin had got together again shortly after our separation, but that it had only lasted about a week. After all, he'd got what he wanted and couldn’t be bothered with her any more now that he'd 'notched her up' - he needed fresh conquests. I've also had other relationships since then of course, but nothing - nothing - like what she and I once had. It's the same old story - I keep looking for her in others, never seeing those others as themselves. Maybe it's horrible to say this, but sometimes I think the real physical death of a loved partner is far easier to bear than the living death of separation.

I could easily try to analyze and explain what happened, but as I've said, knowledge, and feeling are not the same thing. I still have frequent, bitter, lucid dreams in which Ela and I eternally seek each other among the glittering towers and endless corridors of that 'dark city'. A ruined castle with a crimson window lies in the heart of that city - I think you know why. We never find each other. The premonitions have come full circle, the worm still flies in the night, in the howling storm at the core of the heart, his dark and secret love still searching for more crimson beds of joy.