That Filthy Book (10 page)

Sighing, I had the abrupt urge to get out. To go somewhere, even if just for a walk.

I was lying to myself. I wanted to go and investigate the garden.

For places to have sex.

Instead of beating myself up over these new thoughts and desires, I shrugged away what was deemed ‘right’ and ‘normal’ and decided to fully embrace this new me. I’d said this before, but the old Karen kept creeping back in. Finding a balance between the two was proving harder than I thought. But I could do this, couldn’t I? Other women managed just fine—and not just fictitious women.

Look, if I want to have sex outside again, why shouldn’t I? The world won’t go to Hell in a hand-basket if we fuck out there. Just because I’m a mother and a wife, it doesn’t mean my life has to change to the degree that I lose my identity.

I’d already done that once and I wasn’t about to do it again.

With fresh determination, I strode to the hallway, pulled on my boots and put on my coat, my mission firmly rooted inside me. With the keys and my mobile phone in my pocket, I left the house and walked around to the back. I stood in front of the kitchen window and glanced around.

A wooden table and chairs sat on the crazy-paved patio, a brick barbecue beside them. I could lean over that table… A small fountain, water splashing over protruding rocks, gurgling in the quiet. Stretching out naked beside it on a blanket would be nice, but not until the summer. We could get one of those patio heaters, have a private barbecue, feed one another and drink wine until the cows came home. That would be a romantic night, nothing like the torrid, frantic fucks we’d engaged in so far. I found myself looking forward to it, filing that sultry summer evening into my mind for when the seasons changed.

I stared ahead at the trees, far enough away that we’d feel secluded, just us in the world with no one else in it. I smiled.
That
was what I wanted more than anything else. Yes, the sex was an added bonus, but it being just me and Jacob, concentrating on one another and not the girls, the bills,
life
…

Strutting across the damp lawn, I shoved my hands in my pockets. The day was crisp, with a bite to the air that chilled my fingers and pinched at my cheeks. A wayward breeze pushed my hair back from my face, and my eyes watered at the sudden assault. What would it feel like to have that breeze on my naked skin, the coldness perking my nipples? Springing goosebumps, Jacob’s hands melting them away?

Exciting.

I reached the trees slightly out of breath, keen to find a suitable spot. Birds scattered at my approach, their safe haven invaded as I walked through the copse. Their squawks echoed, as did the sound of their flapping wings, and I supposed they were fleeing to roost somewhere else, waiting for the human to leave their place.

I gazed around, hands on hips, and frowned as I studied the area. The oak trunks were all rough, and I imagined the bark biting my arse as Jacob fucked me against one of them. My shoulder blades chafing. Twigs and natural outdoor debris digging into the soles of my feet.

It turned me on.

I ran a hand up the bark, skating over the knobbly protrusions, skin tingling from the contact. Moss, soft as velvet in places, dusted my fingertips, and the image of my back and arse streaked with it after sex filled my mind. I almost asked myself what was wrong with me but stopped.

There’s nothing wrong with me. I just…

I didn’t allow the next thought to bloom. Constant analysing wouldn’t change anything. I was different now, back to who I used to be, the young woman who had first met Jacob, and I just had to accept it. No more Mrs Good Girl, doing what other people thought I should. We’d do things our way, when we could, how we wanted. We’d plan it all out, right down to the last detail, and enjoy it.

There, I’d told myself off for the last time.

Feeling as though a burden had been lifted, I walked further into the mini forest, searching for a less ragged tree trunk. I found several, belonging to blackthorns. Two, with slim, relatively smooth trunks, stood close enough that if Jacob were to tie my wrists to each, I’d be spread-eagled between them, my body star-shaped and perfect for the germ of a new fantasy that popped into my head right then. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to lean over comfortably, though, without my shoulders and armpits screaming with pain. Would my tied wrists be able to take the strain? Would the ropes chafe my skin, leaving it sore and broken?

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

I moved between the trees, reaching out to lay a hand on each trunk. Bent over to test the pain level. It wasn’t much, and without the encumbrance of my coat and clothes I’d have more freedom. Jacob could stand behind me, too, with enough room to strike my arse using a twig with the bark stripped off.

Where the hell had
that
idea come from?

I knew really, just didn’t want to admit it.

I stood upright, fingers tightening on the trees, my breath coming hard and fast. Exhilaration steamed through me, as though a part of my brain had registered that unlocking what I’d obviously held inside had produced a kind of liberty. And it had, hadn’t it? As another gust of wind wended through the trees and ruffled my hair, flapping the open front of my coat so that they billowed at my sides, I had the urge to laugh. To let out all the old parts of me, the sound carried away by that wind, never to return. My smile hurt my face, but damn it felt good.

I dropped my arms to my sides and twirled in a circle, feeling young again, with a new purpose, new ways in mind to bring me and Jacob closer. Just us. Time together.

I wanted to strip naked, right here, right now, and dance around the garden, testing the cold on my skin, seeing if it fit.

I didn’t.

Instead, I went back into the trees, my gaze on the ground in search of a sturdy yet flexible branch. One that wouldn’t break when Jacob struck me with it, or hurt because it was too rigid. My few minutes’ search proved fruitless—the branches were mere twigs—so I resorted to looking upwards and finding one I could snap off a tree. The perfect candidate jutted off a long, thicker branch, low enough for me to reach up and wrench free. It broke away, the jagged end sap-coated and smelling sickly. I ran my palm up and down its length then swiped it through the air in an arc to see whether the other, tapered end was
pliant
.

That word zipped a torrent of lust to my cunt, and I wished Jacob was home so he could bring me off, give me release. I brought my legs together, squeezed them tight to make the pulse in my clit go away. My stomach rolled with excitement as thoughts of what we could do out here swished through my mind. I imagined myself bound to those trees, a full moon hanging in an almost black sky, casting strong light that filtered through the leaves above and dappled the ground. From behind, Jacob’s breath warmed my naked skin—my neck, one shoulder—his body heat so intense I knew he was almost touching me. I saw it as though I had already entertained this before, but I hadn’t. It was all new to
me
, the wanting of this scenario, the tree branch, being tied to the trunks.

As with my other fantasies, once the seed of turning them into reality had been planted it grew, raging through me, growing tendrils that snaked off in different directions, different possibilities that could occur from one basic idea. For our first time out here—would Jacob even want to do this?—I wanted my original desire, but on other occasions… God, there was so much to explore. We could play out the rape fantasy again, Jacob chasing me across the garden as I escaped the house. He could be an intruder, intent on taking me in our bed, but I’d get away, come here, try to hide behind the thicker trunks. But he’d find me, take me roughly on the ground or bend me over that tree stump over there, the moonlight showcasing my bare arse and breasts.

Quickly, I walked towards the house and sat on a patio chair, beginning the task of stripping the bark from the branch. One scenario at a time, I told myself. We had plenty of days to investigate every single one that entered my mind in the future, and I hoped Jacob would provide some too. It would be interesting to know what he thought of in his private moments, what he wanted to do to me, and whether it was something I’d thought about too. Or perhaps there was something he wanted me to do to him.

I stripped the branch and felt along its new, pale skin, slapping it across my palm to test how it felt. A sharp yet pleasing sting. I had no idea whether it would turn brittle before Jacob used it. Did I need some kind of resin to stop that happening?

The sweet scents from exposing the layer beneath the bark wafted up, earthy and primitive, and gave me that sense of freedom that I’d experienced earlier. Was there something inside all of us, something archaic that harked back to the beginning of time, of man, where the aromas outside linked to our baser instincts? I had discovered something I hadn’t thought would turn me on before, hadn’t thought I needed—the burning desire to be taken in the open air with the smell of nature around me.

It was one of the most pleasant revelations I’d ever had.

* * * *

Jacob had called around one o’clock to let me know he’d be late home, something to do with him having to finish up some paperwork so it could be couriered tonight. At first I was disappointed. I couldn’t wait to let him in on my new fantasy, but in a way it had been a Godsend. Trying to tell him while the girls were around—interrupting and just being within earshot, me trying to convey what I wanted in a coded way—wasn’t ideal. No, I wanted to tell him every delicious detail, gaining his whole attention, with us relaxed in the knowledge that the children were asleep and wouldn’t know what their parents were getting up to.

Seven o’clock rolled around, in the slow way hours do when you’re excited about something, and I went about our usual nightly routine, bathing the girls and reading them a story. Once I’d closed their door and made my way downstairs, I had no idea what the books had been about. A touch of guilt got to me then—I’d been thinking of bundling the girls into bed and whilst doing it I hadn’t given them my full attention.

In the kitchen, I lit the hob to reheat a beef casserole and put a pan of water on to boil for the potatoes I’d already peeled. With Jacob working late, I didn’t want him coming home to a dried-out meal, or eating alone as he usually did. As the food cooked, I laid the table in the kitchen nook, placing a stout church candle in the centre and lighting it. We could chat about his day while we ate.

And then chat about mine.

Pleased I’d taken another step towards ‘us time’, I left the table and finished preparing dinner, my stomach contracting at the sound of his key in the lock. Was it silly that I felt like this, like a giddy schoolgirl who couldn’t wait to divulge a secret? It was nice, this feeling, this new life we’d allowed ourselves. I waited with bated breath for him to go upstairs as he always did when he’d been working late, peep in on the girls, then return down here to me. In the past, he’d have found me sitting on the sofa watching TV alone, or reading, having already eaten. Things would be different from now on.

Only two minutes had gone by and he was already standing behind me, hands spanning my waist, his lips brushing up and down the side of my neck. I wanted to abandon dinner, turn to him and be held close, kiss him and forget the casserole and the table awaiting us in the corner. But a slow seduction called louder, eking the evening out so it would stretch on forever. Making me want him even more than I already did.

“Hey, you,” he said against my ear. “Something smells good.”

A shiver went through me. The good kind that tingled my skin and exited through the tips of my toes. “That’ll be the beef.” I stirred the casserole and switched off the heat, trying to act casual when all I wanted was to throw myself at him.

“That and you.”

I smiled. God, I loved him.

“How come there’s so much food?” he asked.

“I thought we could eat together when you work late. Take a breather just for us, instead of me in the living room, you out here. I don’t want to lose what we’ve found again.”

He squeezed me, brushed his cheek against my head, and a lump came unbidden to my throat. I thought of how, if we’d continued the way we’d been before, we could have lost so much. Maybe even found we had nothing in common anymore and taken the path to divorce. It had happened to so many of our friends. Damned if I’d let it happen to us.

He kissed the top of my head then moved away, leaning his elbow on the countertop as I walked to the sink and drained the potatoes. I blinked away the sting of tears and told myself we would be okay so long as we made time for one another. That was the key.

I
knew
he was watching me, watching my movements. His stare burned deep from behind, bringing back the memory of going outside and imagining him behind me in an entirely different way.

Fuck, could I get through this evening, holding back what I was bursting to tell him until after we’d eaten? As I dished up the food, I decided I could.

“Want some help?” he asked.

“You could pour some red wine.” I smiled at him, loving the sight of every single angle of his face, his slightly stubbled jaw, the dark smudges under his tired eyes.

“Wine? Wow, we’re going for it tonight.” He reached into the drinks cupboard for a bottle, then went to get two glasses.