Harry Richardsons - 'Karma' from 'The Gun and Other Stories' - A Short Story 2/4 OC
Part 2
Too late to move away, time blurred and we were in each other’s arms, locked in our embrace; our lips exploring each others. Her arms around my neck, the softness of her breasts against my chest; the heat of her body, the thump of her pulse, my hands sliding under the hem of her blouse as she entwined her leg around me, pulling closer and . . .
And then it was later!
We clung together in the huge soft bed in the master suite. Gradually as the bewitchment faded we sipped more wine, still giggling under the heavy duvet.
At some point I slipped out to the en-suite; wandering around naked presenting no terrors for me. As I came out Clare was shuffling towards the bathroom wrapped tightly in the duvet from head to foot.
"I'm shy." she giggled, but I knew she wasn't.
She came back similarly attired, "You're hiding from me." I said, but she didn't answer, merely giggled nervously as she lay back beside me carefully unwrapping herself and throwing the duvet back over me.
We cuddled together, kissing and caressing some more, but the glow had worn off and I knew something was amiss; the Clare from ten years ago was not inhibited. I could remember skinny-dipping in a freezing mountain pool, we had shared a tent, she . . . she had sunbathed topless.
A lump formed in my throat, damn! I had really screwed up!
We talked for ages, then suddenly she said with a thin smile, "I must go, children are around my friends, I need to get them to bed"
I nodded, "What about Simon he'll be wondering?"
She shook her head, "He won't have missed me, he goes straight to the pub most nights."
I mouthed an 'oh' then said "Shower?" but coyly she shook her head and pulled her clothes back on beneath the duvet.
By the time I finished she had straightened the bed and gone.
Next day was given to opulence, my marketing team where there entertaining the press, champagne and flowers everywhere, scores of intrigued prospective purchasers, back slapping all around. But of Clare there was no sign!
I called several times to no avail, and began to worry. She should have been sharing the limelight; far more photogenic than me, I had planned to get her to speak to the press on behalf of the company.
Much later I had a chance to return to my site office, where to my relief I found her at her desk. At once I knew something was wrong; she made nothing of it, so eventually I persuaded her to come over to the show house and join the fun.
The rest of the day past in a blur and for me ended on a high, my sales agent announced that they had taken five solid reservations at full asking price!
Five thirty came and went, along with the last of my tradesmen and I found Clare in the show house clearing away the remnants of the buffet.
She saw me and smiled, “It went fantastically well today Jimmy, everyone was so impressed.”
I smiled, but I was watching her like a hawk; grabbing an open bottle of fizz I decanted it into a pair of handy glasses passing one to her. “It was your hard work as well; I was hoping that you would read out our press statement.”
She shuddered and lowered her head; stepping forwards I embraced her, she went very quiet but burrowed closer to me.
Sometime later she started to open up, but only after I told her that I could see beyond her makeup, no matter how carefully applied. A long time later she got up, took my hand, led me back to the bedroom and sat next to me on the bed, I could see tears glistening against her mascara. She tried to protest, telling me to forget about her and get on with my own life.
I stopped her reminding her how long we had known each other, told her how I had felt the night before, how I wished I could turn the clock back ten years. Later still after much coaxing she took her blouse off, and even in the dim light of the bedside lamps the extent of the bruising on her arms and upper body fairly turned my stomach.
As I struggled to master my own emotions one thought blazed through and I had to ask, “Is this my fault?” But I already knew the answer, there were bruises on bruises, some were weeks old, she buried her head in her hands shaking it the while.
“He started after we were married; it was as if his personality flipped.”
I asked her as gently as I could why she had stayed with him, her explanation was as long as it was ridiculous. But no normal man can ever really understand; then it struck me that there was nothing particularly normal about me.
Later still we made love again, this time though it was born of empathy and rediscovered feelings for each other that had been simmering just below the surface since we had met again months earlier.
I didn’t want her to go back, but she convinced me it was necessary, and so as I drove home that night I set my mind to work on a new challenge. It didn’t take me long to work things out, and in the end it was easy. I made my decision and stepped out of my old life.
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Please check out more of the book at: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Other-Stories-Harry-Richardson-Book-ebook/dp/B00HY4CSX2/ref=la_B00HOGD3XY_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470869269&sr=1-2
There's also a full book available!
https://steemit.com/steemit/@mrkuujo/harry-richardson-s-the-encounter-sneak-peek-at-his-first-book-1-4