Watch Over Me

She went to Crete on holiday with Jenny. They visited the classical remains, and lazed on the beach, and generally had a great ten days -- she couldn't afford to spend more money on her holidays, but this was fantastic. She came home tanned, and rested, and full of energy.

She called Medbh Auld, and was greeted by an enthusiastic repetition of the invitation to come and visit them. Yes, they were at home, and when would she come? She went and stayed there for five days. She recognised Ted's work immediately from the oil in Mo's living-room, and when she asked Medbh about the portrait Mo had told her of, Medbh took her to her bedroom and showed her. Mo had been right; it was a very sexy portrait, Anne thought. It must be great to have a husband like that!

At Christmas that year she invited a couple of colleagues over for dinner. To her regret, Mo declined; he had been asked to visit another old friend of his, and he would not be in town. Her face fell when he told her. She'd actually banked on his being there...

Mo was rather sad about it. If he'd known Anne was going to ask him, he'd happily have declined his friends' invitation... He did go to the friends who had asked him over, and tried to be good fun for them, but his heart wasn't in it, and he found the visit very hard. Anne's absence brought last Christmas back to mind with an uncomfortable intensity.

Anne's party was a success in itself; still, Mo's absence did dampen Anne's joy in it a little. She spent a long time thinking over her position. Mo... Mo was off. She would just never dare to make an overture to him, so she'd have to accept the thought that he wouldn't be hers. It made the day lose all colour, though.

Winter passed. By the end of spring, Mary LaCalle, a new math teacher, threw a housewarming party. Anne didn't feel like it too much, but she went anyway. It was quite a crowded do, with loads of people she didn't know, and one or two that she did. She'd bought Mary a nice desk lamp, and she stood looking at the other guests coming in for some time. One of them gave her a rather long look. He talked to Mary for some time, and then walked over to her and introduced himself as Mark Annison. He was a local sports champion, and a successful business man with a bright smile, a trained body with broad shoulders, big hands and a lot of dark curls. And he was tall -- he must be at least 6'2", Anne thought. His handshake was as warm as his smile, and he had a deep voice that somehow made her feel very feminine and a little vulnerable.

Mark had a way with women, and before Anne knew he had whisked her away from where she stood, made her a cocktail, and taken her to a more or less quiet corner -- Mary's place was fairly crowded and not that big -- where he entertained her with stories about his work and the silly ways of the sports world, and flirted with her openly. Anne didn't know the type; she had never felt so flattered before, and Mark went out of his way to make her feel happy and attractive. His smile and his voice did something wonderful to her. She felt important and beautiful, and when she left that evening, they had made a date for the next weekend, involving dinner and a concert -- Mark appeared to be an opera buff, and she'd never been to an opera before.

She felt excited all week. Mo noticed it, but as he didn't want to intrude he didn't ask, and Anne didn't tell. She felt vaguely uneasy about it, as though it were something forbidden or indecent.

She was wondering what it would be like with Mark, and if he and she might, perhaps, afterwards... It had been so long since she had been with a man... She didn't allow herself to finish her thoughts. She found it hard to concentrate on her work; fortunately she was experienced enough to run part of her teaching on automatic pilot, and she did make an effort. It seemed as if the week would never end. That Saturday, Mark came to collect her at five. She'd spent a long time deciding what to wear, and an even longer time seeing to her make-up, and eventually she was reasonably content with the results. She was ready at four thirty, and then it seemed as if the minute hand got stuck. But eventually, it crept closer and closer to the full hour -- and then, a couple of minutes early, there was the bell. She forced herself not to run to the front door like a schoolgirl on her first date, but she was at the door pretty fast nevertheless.

Mark was dressed in a beautiful suit -- handmade, yes, sirree -- and he whistled through his teeth when he saw Anne in her gladrags.

"Wow, young lady," he said with a smile. "You are beautiful!"

Anne beamed. She took her clutch, went outside with him and locked the door. Mark opened the door of his car for her -- Anne knew nothing whatever about cars, but it was a beautiful, sleek sort of thing, with leather seats and a polished wooden steering wheel, and when Mark drove off she noticed it was very silent and pleasant. They drove out of town. Mark had reserved a table at Woodbine's, the connoisseurs' restaurant that Anne knew about but had never visited -- it would have been well above the amount she'd ever want to pay for food. But she enjoyed the atmosphere, and Mark was as entertaining as he had been at the party. The food was very good -- the restaurant boasted a celebrated chef -- and the wine even better. Yet she briefly wondered if she didn't actually prefer the kind of meals Mo would cook, but looking at Mark, and being made much of by him, did wonders to drive that thought from her mind.

They had some liqueurs after dinner, in deep leather chairs at the open fire in the lobby of the restaurant, talking about their lives. Anne told him about her time with Gayle, and her subsequent stay at Mo's. Mark's brow grew dark. He asked if she still met him. Anne explained that he was just a colleague, and that they'd only lived apart in the same house. No different from Gayle, she said.

Mark seemed relieved at that. He had a rather jealous streak that he never allowed anyone to notice if he could help it -- and being successful in most things had given him the feeling he had a right to things, a fact Anne would not discover until it was almost too late. He certainly felt he had a right to Anne, and even the idea of her having had a boyfriend made him feel almost angry with her.

As Anne went on to tell him that Mo had only been to her apartment to help her move, and once after that at a party with lots of other people, Mark nodded. That was alright. He was a bachelor, too, like Mo, but he did have a life, he thought. He'd seen Mo at a charitable do once, and he seemed a stuffy sort of guy, and besides, existing on a teacher's pay... Mo must be a loser, obviously. He, Mark, though, had had lots of girlfriends, and intended to get married some time soon, if the right partner presented herself, and Anne rather looked like the thing, beautiful and very presentable. He looked at his watch.

"Come," he said. "We'll have to go -- it's half an hour to the Opera House."

When they arrived, Anne loved the ambiance. Red plush, gold paint, a broad stairway... Mark had bought expensive tickets, and they had a stall of their own. The cast performed Verdi's "Nabucco." Anne loved it; it brought tears to her eyes. Fortunately, Mark had a packet of tissues in his pocket, and he held Anne's hand and pressed it comfortingly, while she dabbed at her eyes and nose with her free hand. His hand was warm and firm, and Anne felt the magnetism of his touch. She timidly pressed back, which Mark took as a sign he could run his fingers over her palm, and press her hand more insistently. He used his thumb to stroke the soft flesh, and smiled at her whenever she looked at him for a second, wanting to make her feel the centre of his attention. It made it a little difficult to concentrate on the opera for her, as she felt herself get moist slowly. Nobody had made much of her like that since her one relationship ran on the rocks, over sixteen years ago. She felt giddy -- and maybe it might expel her loneliness?

Though Anne fervently hoped that Mark wouldn't smell her arousal, he was too experienced to let on he did. However, he did feel himself stir at the thought of it. Later, he promised himself. His girlfriends all thought he was good in bed; he'd love to make Anne squeal under him. The thought stirred him even more.

The Russian company got a standing ovation. As they were exiting the Opera House, Mark held her upper arm, and said,

"Well, Lady Anne, how did you like your first opera?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. "This was fantastic, Mark," she said. "Thank you so much!"

"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said with a grin.

It was dark as they drove home, and Mark drove with his right hand, his left one possessively on Anne's right thigh. He didn't move it, to let her get accustomed to the feeling, but he noticed to his delight that his touch there had the intended effect. Anne looked at him and pressed her legs together in an effort to stop him from smelling her -- to her dismay she could smell herself only too clearly. If it weren't too unladylike, she would have put her hand on his but it might get her even more aroused... Oh, she could really do with some relief.

Mark pulled up in front of her apartment, after a drive charged with mounting sexual tension. He got out, opened the door for her, and when she alighted, he put his arms around her and kissed her forcefully on the mouth. She felt herself go weak in the knees, and allowed his tongue past her lips.

"Mark, please," she said, when he withdraw his mouth. "Let's go inside!"

She fumbled for her keys in her clutch, and opened the door. They hurried inside, and Mark banged the door shut with his shoulder; then he lifted Anne with an arm under her bottom and hurried up the stairs. Anne giggled, and pointed to the right.

"My bedroom's over there," she said.

She felt his erection through his trousers -- it seemed a good sized one, she thought, and then he stood her up and unzipped her dress while he pressed his lips to hers and invaded her mouth with his tongue, as she undid the buckle of his belt. They broke their kiss for just a short moment -- long enough to shed their clothes -- when Anne felt herself being lifted up again. She knew what Mark intended, and she wanted it, too. She felt under her bottom for his cock and rubbed the tip along her pussy lips before she sank down on his length, accommodating him to the balls. She heaved a deep sigh, and shuddered as Mark started to thrust up into her depths. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, and pinched her nipples with his free hand. Then he slapped her bottom hard. The sudden sting made her pussy contract around his cock, and she started to push herself down on his member, clawing at his back and pulling his face into hers for a moment.

"Yes," she hissed, "Yes, yes, yes -- please -- yes!"

She went back to kissing him, and Mark started to stroke the crack of her ass, tickling her rosebud, which made her wild. He pushed a finger into her ass. She wasn't sure if she wanted that but at the moment it just made her pussy contract again, tightly around his cock. She growled at the back of her throat, and Mark rejoiced in the fire she put into fucking him back.

"Go for it, little firebrand," he encouraged her.

Then he lifted her off his cock, and deposited her on the bed on her knees. He positioned himself behind her and slammed into her, slapping her bottom and then feeling under her for her swinging breasts. He rubbed and pinched her nipples, and Anne rocked back into his thrusts, hard, while she found his balls between her legs and she squeezed them softly. Her clitoris was painfully swollen and she rubbed her own juices into the hard nub, while Mark's cock found her g-spot and sent her over the edge. She felt her juices run down her legs, and she growled, hoarsely,

"Oh yes please -- come for me, Mark -- please!"

Mark plunged back into her once more -- and then he felt his juices spurt into Anne's depths, hot and forceful, and when he was spent, he collapsed on top of her, holding her neck, panting. After a while he said,

"Right. Clean me with your tongue!"

To her surprise, Anne complied willingly. She sat on the bed on all fours, taking Mark's half-hard member into her mouth and licking off their combined juices, and to her delight she felt him get hard again in her mouth while she was at it, and enthusiastically continued licking and sucking him.

"Wait," he said gruffly. He got up off the bed, and told her to lie on her back, and then put his cock in her mouth again. He slowly fucked her mouth and stroked her breasts while she lay looking at his cock and balls, feeling him with her tongue and softly biting him now and then.

"Do you like it up the arse?" he said.

Anne shook her head, as she couldn't talk too well. Okay, Mark thought, I'll give her some time...

"Come," he said, "it's my turn."

He went round to kneel between her legs and started to suck her pussy, nibbling on her clit, taking her pussy lips between his lips and pulling them gently, and finally putting his mouth over her entire pussy and sucking hard. It made Anne go wild.

"Ooohhh..." she sighed, "please -- I want you inside me again..."

Mark got off his knees and lay down on his back, and Anne straddled him and sank down on his slick cock in one smooth motion. She used her vagina walls to squeeze his cock, and then started to ride him in a rocking motion, hard, hard, harder... And when she heard his breathing go ragged she pulled up her legs until her knees were close to his armpits, and then started to move her bottom back and forth. Mark hadn't experienced this trick before. It felt fantastic. He gave up trying to meet her motions and just gave himself over to the sensations that seemed to aimed directly at his balls, looking at her face and breasts while she rocked him, smiling angelically. It was too much for him soon, and he felt himself go all tense...

Then he erupted into a long, long, seemingly continuous flow of sperm into Anne's womb, hot and heady, and plentiful, until he felt the sticky stuff cake his pubic hairs.

When she felt his come overflow inside her Anne came again, too. It was a very forceful orgasm, and she slumped down on top of Mark's well-trained body, joyfully spent. She tried to kiss him but he just put an arm round her back and held her close until they drifted off to sleep.

IV. Doubts

Anne's relationship with Mark steadily developed. He often took her out, and they invariably had wonderful sex together. He always was quite the gentleman, and Anne loved the way he made much of her. And yet... There were some little things that gave her a vague feeling of unease she'd find hard to put into words. It was almost as if she were his next asset sometimes -- a beautiful car, a beautiful house -- two beautiful houses, actually, one in town and one in the country -- and a beautiful girlfriend. She was proud of her work, of her achievements in education and even of her apartment, and she'd hate to see those belittled or ignored.

Mark was a driven businessman. He knew what he wanted, and he was accustomed to getting it; he hated to be thwarted or have his wishes denied. Anne had, so far, always fallen in with his wishes. She wasn't fully sure if things might not be a little less pleasant if ever there should be a reason for her not to. Mark kept coming back to the idea of anal sex at times, but Anne wasn't having any. It seemed dirty, unnecessary and unpleasant to her, and as there were more than enough other ways to satisfy a man, she didn't understand why he should go on about it.

She had been to a business meeting once or twice, to act as a hostess. Mark looked at her with approval; she wasn't so sure herself. She was very willing to help out, of course -- but it wasn't her sort of thing, really. All of this was not too big an issue, of course. What was much more disturbing to her was the fact that there seemed to be various points in time when they just didn't relate. When she tried to tell him about her love of the simple joys of the country he looked as if she spoke Greek, and she didn't understand what he could like about the rather ostentatious art he used to decorate his home with, or the just as ostentatious cars he had to drive, nor did she like sports quite as much as he did.

She tried to see the good thing in a brighter light -- and there were quite enough of those. Quite enough. They went on holiday to Salzburg, saw five operas in six days, spent a week on the beach in Turkey, being lazy and making lots of love -- very, very satisfying -- and he took her to various other nice concerts. She'd offered to take him to the movies in return, or to one of the evenings of the literary circle, but Mark politely declined. He didn't want Anne to use her money to treat him as he earned far, far more; a gentleman paid for his lady, didn't he? Anne nodded at that, a little dubiously.

When she discussed it with Jenny, she didn't react at first. Anne asked her why she didn't say anything, and Jenny said she wasn't sure she should. "I don't want to ruin our friendship, you know. I er, I don't know, but er... I'd better hold my tongue."

"Please," Anne said. "I promise it won't make a difference between us."

"Well -- alright then; don't you think it may be just because there is no status in old movies or literature? Dressing up for an art movie is a bit ridiculous, and it would be mightily out of place on a literary evening, too. I sometimes feel Mark is very busy being seen."

Anne scratched her head. It seemed rather possible Jenny was right. She wondered if she should confront Mark with it but decided against it.

At Christmas, Mark had a party for a group of business associates. He had arranged everything perfectly; there was excellent catering and a beautiful tree had been installed by a specialised firm. The big dining room at his town house was decked out in season's greenery and there were candles and bowls of fruit -- and Anne suddenly felt very lonely. She thought back to the Christmas she'd spent at Mo's place. There had been only the two of them, and then Ted and Medbh and their children, but all these people didn't made life cheerful at all. She wished she could talk about it with Mo -- but somehow she'd rather not. Medbh? Hmm, yes. She decided she might do just that.

Mark wondered what it was that made Anne so silent at the party. He hated it when his treats weren't duly appreciated. But he couldn't put a finger on it, and let it go. He made love to her rather roughly that evening, and was very insistent about expecting her to allow him to fuck her in the ass some time soon.

V. Parents' Night

There was another parents' night by the end of January. Anne didn't have any parents wanting to speak to her for a change, so she stayed at home. Mark was to visit her at eight. He had kept on badgering her about fucking her ass; he had even given her a butt plug to make her back opening a little easier for him, together with a tube of KY jelly so it'd go up her ass a little easier. She'd put the things away; over the intervening days she'd grown more and more uncomfortable about the whole business. If she weren't good enough the way she was, then she'd rather he'd tell her so.

Eventually she took herself by the shoulders and decided she wasn't having any, and she was going to talk it out with Mark. Now Mo -- he would never badger his girlfriend, she thought -- he was too much the gentleman, too gentle, really. She sighed. Damn.

Mo had four parents that evening. He had an early dinner at home. Since Anne had moved out, parents' nights hit him hard, emotionally. He more and more regretted the fact he'd not told her how he felt about her, and he found his own stupidity hard to cope with. When his meal was ready, he took his plate into the living room, selected a CD by one of his favourite singers, programmed one track and put it on repeat, but after listening to it a couple of times it was more than he could stomach and he pressed the stop button. His meal didn't seem to taste the way it ought to, and he ate only half of it, and threw away the rest.