Going Underground

Chapters Forty-six to Fifty

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

THE BITTEREST PILL    

            “Sod off!” ordered Jonathan, as the tent zip went up.  Whatever it was Mickey P. or The Ace Face had to say to him, he most certainly didn’t want to hear.

            “Is that any way to talk to a lady?” said Olivia, letting herself in regardless.

            Upon hearing a female voice, Jonathan suddenly sat bolt upright, wondering what on earth it was she could possibly want.

            “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. – not that she bothered to wait for his response, Jonathan noted. 

            “I mean you can’t expect a girl to sleep out in the cold, not when there’s a nice warm bed in here she could be sharing...”  

            Much to Jonathan’s Oh my God please no, shock, horror, she began to slowly unbutton her dress.

            “What’re you doing?” he asked, somewhat shaken and feeling the need to protect at least his own dignity, he found himself automatically pulling his sleeping bag right up to his chin.

            “What does it look like...?” she replied, with a knowing smile.  “Besides, it’s not as if it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” 

            Not sure quite how to respond to that, Jonathan was left lost for words.

            Please stop, he nervously thought to himself.  However, as much as he knew he should have actually been voicing this request, or at the very least diverting his eyes to give her some privacy, he couldn’t actually bring himself to do either. 

            Not that Olivia seemed to mind his gaze, he realised.  In fact, if anything, she was actively encouraging it.  So much so, that with every item of clothing she removed, she seemed to become increasingly provocative in the way she went about it.  And, unfortunately, for Jonathan the more he told himself this shouldn’t, indeed, be happening, the more he secretly wanted it to continue.

            He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made such a display especially for him and he was forced to acknowledge that not only was this kind of foreplay not in his wife’s nature, but for a long time now, sex with Tracey had been all about hormone levels, temperature charts and accurate timings.  It had become a means to an end, rather than the love making it was supposed to have been and as far as Jonathan was concerned, he was just the sperm donor, in what had come to feel like a mechanical process. 

            Here with Olivia, however, it didn’t just seem to be all about pleasure, she seemed to be making it all about him.  Consequently, it was as if he was back to being a real, blood running through his veins, man again – the definite stirring in his groin only serving to confirm this.  

            Not that a respectably married bloke should be comparing his wife’s bedroom activities to those of another woman to start with, he reminded himself – and wasn’t his marital status something he should be explaining anyway?      

            However, as thoughts of telling her to cease what she was doing, once again, began running through his head, unfortunately words, once again, failed him.  Even more so when Olivia silently crawled into the sleeping bag with him, ensuring her soft, smooth skin rubbed against his. 

            Jesus, he thought to himself, his body all at once tensing. 

            Not that it stayed that way for long, it seemed.  Moreover, as she began expertly caressing his neck with her lips, gradually working her mouth and tongue down to his chest and eventually his abdomen, Jonathan didn’t just feel his body begin to melt, he realised his feeble yet internal arguments to resist had been completely and utterly futile.