Triad Read online

  I chew my steak. “You talk as though you do this kind of thing regularly?”

  “It’s a trick I learned from my father, when I was a youngster and he was showing me the ropes.”

  “Your father?”

  “Ah-ha. I um.... served my apprenticeship.... in business with him.”

  “I didn’t realise that?”

  “No reason you should. It was a long time ago and I’ve taken his methods a lot further since then and added a few of my own.”

  Interesting stuff....

  .... I didn’t expect him to open up like this...

  “So, what did your father do?”

  “He was a property developer too, in a much smaller way. He built the Imperial.”

  “The Imperial Hotel? Where I had the apartment?”

  “That’s right, but it was much smaller originally, more like one of those guest houses across the road. In fact...” He plays with his wineglass, revolving it in his fingers, his eyes far away... “... in fact, he built those too, in partnership with various other businessmen.”

  “You’ve had an interesting life, Richard.”

  “Oh, this was before my time. I was only a twinkle in his eye when all this was going on. So....” He downs a mouthful of the Merlot. “.... What do you think of my idea?”

  “It’s a good idea, Richard, a very good idea. Can you put me in contact with this contractor of yours?”

  “I’ll get Francis to do it for you tomorrow.”

  *****

  “Oh, there you are. Wondered what had happened to you last night.” Michael looks more closely at me. “What's wrong? You look like your best friend just died.”

  “You look alive and healthy to me. And sorry, yes, I should have called. I had dinner with Richard and Beth. They invited me to stay over. I was tired. I didn’t think.”

  Michael grins and shrugs, “I’m not your keeper. You don’t answer to me. But come on, what gives? There’s something wrong.”

  “Richard told me the police want to interview Charlotte about Blessingmoors.”

  His face falls and he stares at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, crap.”

  “You took the words out of my mouth.”

  “When?”

  “I agreed to talk to her about it, but only when she's back here for Christmas and she's had chance to relax for a few days...”

  “And with both of us to give her some support?”

  “Quite.”

  He paces the room, then, “Do you know if she’s still having nightmares?”

  “You talk to her as much as I do, phone, message, email.... She’s not said anything to you?”

  He sucks in his cheeks, shaking his head.

  “Thought as much. When I try to ask her about it, she brushes the question off. So, I’m guessing, yes.”

  His pacing continues. “We could simply refuse on her behalf....”

  “I’m not sure we could, but even if that were possible, do you think we have the right to do that?”

  His jaw sets. “It might make her nightmares worse.”

  “Or perhaps it could help. Give her closure?”

  He’s colouring up, beginning to look angry. “You didn't have to agree to it. You should have talked to me first.”

  “You weren't there to ask.”

  He folds his arms, scowling at me. “You're not going to lose it are you?”

  “Lose it?”

  “Yes, lose it.” Michael squares up to me, a finger jabbing my way. “If anything new comes out of this, something we didn’t know about, will you keep a cool head...?”

  Ah....

  “.... Because if you can't behave yourself I’d rather you weren't there....”

  You've got to be kidding....

  .... Was I that much of a shit over the summer...?

  .... Probably....

  “Okay, calm down. I'm with you. No, whatever comes out of it, she has my support. I know she was a victim and she's been living with and dealing with the consequences ever since. I won't overreact.”

  Michael relaxes a bit. “Good. Hold on to that thought.” He sits, staring out of the window, tugging at his chin. “I don't like it.”

  “You think I do?”

  “You think there's anything we can do to make it easier for her?”

  “Just be there for her is all that comes to mind.”

  “We don't let them take her to a police station, surrounded by strangers.”

  “Good notion. It could be done in the Haswell Building, with us in the next room. She’s comfortable there. I think Beth and Richard might join us to give her some backup as well.”

  “And until we tell her about it, we’ll give her a memorable time at home.”

  “I think we can arrange that.”

  *****

  She’s here. Michael messaged me to say she’d arrived, so despite dismal weather and a hairy drive up the mountain on icy roads, I’m smiling. I keep finding myself laughing for no reason....

  .... no reason at all....

  As I pull in she’s there, waiting....

  Outside? In this weather?

  .... and I steer the car to one side so as not to splash her with the liquid mud that is taking over the site.

  As I step out, she’s here and close to me. I embrace her, kissing her lightly, but am conscious of many pairs of eyes watching us: builders, plumbers, men operating the earth-movers and mini-diggers.... or trying to....

  And my nose tells me a lot of what I want to know....

  Michael’s already had her....

  .... He’s a fast worker....

  “Welcome home,” I say quietly to her. “Um, not too private here, are we?”

  She glances around with an expression that clearly says they can all go jump....

  I take her hand, noticing her icy fingers....

  How long was she waiting outside?

  .... but inside the range is blazing and something smells very good.

  “You’ve been cooking?”

  “It’s not as good as yours, Master, but it will keep us warm.”

  Michael arrives with an armload stove-lengths for the range. He stacks them neatly on the wood-pile, looking cheerful.

  “You moved fast.” I murmur from the corner of my mouth.

  His grin is unrepentant. “And you wouldn’t have if you’d arrived back early?”

  My tone dry. “You have me there.” I rub my nose. “Um, you good for later? What we talked about? Are you still up for it?”

  The grin widens. “Oh, yes. Definitely. I’ll be up. Never fear.”

  *****

  Charlotte didn’t do herself justice about the cooking. The casserole isn’t going to win any prizes for haute cuisine, but it’s hot and tasty and it sticks to the ribs, perfect food for a chill, damp winter’s day. She’s dumped most of a bottle of red wine into it, so we open another one to share.

  With the range all but glowing with heat, the glimmer of candles for lighting and knowing we have several weeks ahead of us until Charlotte returns to her college....

  .... It doesn’t get much better than this....

  I push less pleasant thoughts to the back of my mind.

  .... Time for that later...

  “When can we expect electricity?” I ask.

  Michael’s face falls. “I’m hoping we’ll have it for Christmas.” Then he looks over at me. “Sorry Charlotte. I just couldn’t....”

  She doesn’t let him finish. Her face dimpling, green eyes bright, “It’s perfect. Don’t worry about it. We’re together. That’s the main thing.”

  He doesn’t say a word, simply settling back into his seat, eyes creasing at the corners, cradling his wineglass. And he sits there, watching her.

  She looks down into her glass, then after a minute looks up again. He’s still watching her. She looks down again.

  Another minute or so, and he’s still watching her.

  “Um, I’m not going to dissolve if you look away, you know.
” she says, blinking a bit.

  Give the man some support....

  “You’ll have to forgive him, Charlotte,” I say, huffing a laugh. “Michael has worked every waking hour on the house since the day he got the keys. He’s been looking forward to your arriving here.”

  Her eyes widen and Michael shoots me a grateful look.

  She reaches out, a hand to each of us. I take it, holding her fingers....

  .... and the touch sends my heart pounding and a shock through my groin....

  Jeez....

  .... Let her settle in....

  .... Michael didn’t though....

  But her eyes are brilliant, flickering green-gold in the shimmering light and the reflected candles making a flame of her hair. “Me too,” she says. “I did as much work as I could back at college so that we could enjoy being together.”

  Is Michael ready...?

  .... It can’t be more than a few hours....

  Then he meets my eye, flashes brows....

  .... Yup.... He’s ready....

  She saw us. A smile dawns over her face, broad and bright and white...

  She knows what’s coming....

  I thumb her to the bedroom door. “In there, I think, Madam.”

  We start in our usual way, standing before and behind her, sandwiching her between us.

  I’ve seen her more alluringly attired. She’s dressed practically, for the cold and the damp, but now in the bedroom, with the range on the other side of the thick stone wall, it’s warm enough to improve on the heavy jeans, boots and numerous thick woollen layers.

  “Strip,” says Michael, gazing down.

  She sounds startled.

  .... As we intended....

  “Strip?” she repeats.

  I stoop to speak softly by her face.

  “Michael wants to get his cock into your mouth, and I want to fuck your cunt, so.... strip.”

  And at my words, her breath hitches.

  She’s a little pink, perhaps with excitement, perhaps from her many layers of clothes. Either way, as she unravels herself from Michael’s woollen, pulls another thick jersey over her head and off, kicks off boots and jeans, her perfume surges over us. Michael tilts his head back a little, pupils dilating and the white of his teeth showing.

  We wait, for the right moment. Did we plan this for her? Of course we did.

  As her bra drops away and she steps out of her panties, we pounce. As a pair, we grab her, an arm apiece, hauling her, in gales of laughter, onto the bed.

  I have rope in my pocket, as we arranged. Michael pins her hands while I lash her by the wrists to the bars of the bedhead. Then, he at one ankle and myself at the other, we pull her down the bed, tensioning her, pulling legs and arms taut.

  She’s quivering and shaking....

  .... and smiling broadly....

  .... Aching to be fucked....

  We don’t bind her at the ankle. I want easy access and already the glint of moisture appears at her thighs.

  We don’t rush it. As much as I’m ready....

  .... more than ready....

  .... to blow off, we have all evening.

  We stand so she can see us, watch us. Michael pulls his heavy sweater over his head, then works through the buttons of the undershirt. I unfasten cuff-links, unknot my tie....

  .... Should I gag her with it...?

  .... No, I want to hear her....

  Her eyes switch from one to the other of us, then back again as we undress. She follows my fingers as I unbutton down my shirt, then set it aside. As I remove my shoes, her gaze lingers over Michael, his muscled torso as the shirt comes off, leaving him stripped to the waist.

  She enjoys watching him like that....

  .... but then most women did....

  Finally, naked above the waist, barefooted, we stand and look down at her from the end of the bed....

  .... Make her wait....

  Her mouth is open, showing a little of the white of her teeth and her chest rises and falls rapidly....

  Michael reaches into a pocket and pulls out one of his favourites, a black silk scarf he has used many times before.

  He raises her head with a pillow, but not to give her a better view. Binding the silk around her eyes he knots it at the back of her head.

  He murmurs something. I can’t hear it, but she shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, but please.... don’t make me wait too long....”

  He chuckles, a finger against her lips as he climbs up to straddle her. It’s a wicked sound with all the promise a voice can carry. His hands work over her chest and breasts, her neck and hairline, fingerpads pressing in, kneading at muscle, stroking over the sensitive areas....

  Did he become a masseur because of his interest in women?

  .... or did he just find it a useful skill...?

  .... I must ask him sometime....

  I have her beautiful thighs and pussy to play with. I love the contrast of her pale skin against the glisten and the red of her loins, the deep pink of her vulva.

  Already I can scent her, the aroma of arousal, but as I part her legs, lifting and opening at the knee, it washes over me in a tide and my cock is abruptly at attention....

  I’m pleased she can’t see my face as I stamp down hard on my own ache....

  She wants more than five minutes....

  .... and so do I....

  Stroking her pussy, not yet open for me, but swelling and with a glisten of moisture, I try to pace myself. She might not be fully ready yet, but it’s a-coming. She reacts to my touch, twitching, her thighs and knees straining as she tries to arch. Of course, she can’t. With Michael bestride her, she’s going nowhere.

  I take a few seconds to entertain myself, to simply enjoy having her here.

  .... Jade....

  .... My Jade-Eyes....

  I kneel on the floor, leaning in close to Aaahhhh.... my heat over her. She shudders and there’s a moan from the far end of the bed. Her thighs strain again, her feet pressing down on the bed as she tries to lift her hips to meet me, but still, she’s pinned by Michael’s weight.

  That glisten at her slit is growing to a trickle. I ease her open with a couple of fingers then slide in. She’s hot and wet and there’s a quivering in her flesh. I pull out again, suck away her salt-citrus tang, then give Michael a silent tap on the shoulder.

  He twists, silent, but brows raised in question. I give him a ‘shove over’ jerk of the head. He smiles, nods and moves to lie alongside her. His mouth poised over a nipple, he teeths at it. She can move now, and she twitches and jerks with his movements....

  .... and with mine. I work to open her, taking her pussy lips into my mouth, sucking and nibbling. She’s responding beautifully, and I up the ante. Wiping a finger through her juices, coating myself, I reach back to slip in the finger in behind her....

  .... and now she does move. As I penetrate her she rises on the soles of her feet, her spine curving up and over against her restrained wrists. And the sound she makes.... somewhere between a gasp and a wail...

  .... It’s a good sound....

  Michael’s voice, “That’s a nice smile.” he says. “We must be doing something right, eh?”

  I look up from my pleasant spot by her pussy. She’s reaching to kiss him and he drops down to her, open-mouthed, fingering at her tautly crinkled nipples. She moans again through their joined lips and I help things along by turning my attention to her clit.

  Small, red and nubbed, it slides under my tongue. So small a thing, so tiny a part of a woman’s body, but she reacts, wailing out, her thighs spreading as she offers herself to me.

  She’s quaking. A palm against each of her thighs, her muscle tension transmits through....

  .... She’s close....

  .... but she’s not coming yet....

  I meet eyes with Michael and we both break away, to leave her lying, all a-tremble, blind, bound and quivering. Mouth open, her breath rasps....

  And as we leave her there for a
long count, her tension eases and as her wailing falls to whimpering, her hips drop back to the sheets...

  As she relaxes, Michael drops me a wink, nodding me down to her before wrapping his mouth around the other nipple. A hand glides south over her belly, heading for her clit I think.

  I drop down again to lick my way through her now swollen pussy. Scarlet and succulent, her outer lips press against my face as I push in to tongue-fuck her. To her rear, I return the finger, thrusting gently in and out of her ass in time with my tongue movements.

  There’s another movement, close by; Michael fingering her bud.

  Her orgasm hadn’t receded far. It’s still there, lying in wait. We have her between us, working her in almost every way a woman can be worked....

  .... I wonder what it feels like to her...?

  No matter, the tension rises in my balls and groin as her climax rises again, her body answering ours. My cock is rock hard, and it throbs in time with the spasmodic jerks of her pelvis and her rising cries....

  She’s close again, brinking on the edge of climax....

  Michael’s fingers leave her clit, giving me quick tap en route. I withdraw, tongue and finger and we wait, watching her.

  Michael has the devil in his eyes as, her chest heaving, she protests, “Hey Guys, c’mon. I need to come....”

  All she gets for her complaint is a couple of soft laughs. She subsides, and Michael, eyes crinkling at the corners, holds up three fingers, then counts down....

  .... Three.... Two.... One....

  He returns to tormenting her clit, making one-fingered spirals that tease and play. Setting it to a rise-and-fall rhythm, I insert a small vibe up her back, then push two fingers inside her pussy, reaching for her g-spot....

  She’s fighting/welcoming it. Her whole body writhes and twists against the assault of sensation we give her. She’s crying out again, but now there’s an edge to it....

  .... She needs to come....

  She’s about to fall over the edge.... again.... and we stop. I tug the vibe away and she lies there, shaking violently.

  “Oh god, please, let me come. Let me come.”