Astronomy 1 - Eclipsus
As Patrick turned off the main road towards the idyllically picturesque village that was now home he believed himself to the luckiest man alive. He had plenty of reason. After a few years of moderate struggle he was now forging a reputation as one of the finest guitar builders in Europe. What had once been a hobbyist's obsession was now a profession. As importantly, things were really taking off for his wife, Jane - the only woman, besides his mother, he ever had and ever would love. As obsessed as Patrick was with the precision engineering required to create beautiful instruments to produce perfect sounds, so Jane was obsessed with the imprecise mystery of infinity and all the moons, stars and planets within it. The only difference between them was that whereas Patrick's genius had taken a little while to flourish, Jane had been recognised as the most gifted astronomer of her generation almost from her first day at Oxford.
Having rushed through her degree, her doctorate and a couple of pieces of ground-breaking research she was the unchallenged candidate, even at 26, for the new, yet immensely well-funded and prestigious post of Director of Astronomy for the Universities of Sussex and Texas. So, flushed with an advance on a franchise deal Patrick had signed for a range of electric guitars and basses and the not inconsiderable salary Jane now commanded, they had left their cramped flat in Oxford for a sumptuously refurbished Georgian house, on the edge of what was simply the most perfect village on the South Downs. With part of the attic transformed into a glass roofed observatory for Jane and an old stable block converted into a workshop for Patrick they felt truly at peace with the world. Added to which, they each had reasons to look forward to annual trips to Austin, Jane to play in the McDonald Observatory, Patrick to play for commissions amongst the country and western aristocracy.
This attractive and increasingly successful couple were welcomed into the village community. Despite having always been a little shy and frankly gauche in any social situation or conversation not focused on stars and guitars, Patrick and Jane found themselves slipping comfortably into a life of fetes and charity receptions, pub cricket and quizzes. Despite - or perhaps even because of - their complete lack of faith they had already been to dinner at the rectory a few times, forming, through the rector's easy-going hospitality, a number of casual acquaintanceships and a couple of closer friendships. It was therefore of no great surprise to Patrick to see Helen Lamb's distinctive orange roadster in the drive as he approached the house.
Helen was something of a non-celestial star in the village. She was everything red-heads should be: vivacious, funny, warm and full of compassion for the plight of anyone and anything not having the greatest time, be they an endangered species, a dispossessed tribe, an under-funded pop-in centre or just a soul in need of cheering up. She was no fragile daughter of sheep though. Her temper could be as fiery as her mane of thick auburn hair - a characteristic displayed at the first of those rectory dinners, when she went into a rant at the church's failure to challenge the Government's record on tackling real poverty, earning a round of applause from a range of folk who plainly had little first-hand knowledge of the issue.
Friendship with Helen had, Patrick reflected, really helped Jane settle and come out of herself just a little. Whilst not as close as sisters, Helen, older by a couple of years, had carefully guided Jane into a couple of organising committees and even got her to work on one of the stalls at the most recent village fete, the kind of thing Jane had always dreaded. Helen had also encouraged Jane to spend a little of her new-found affluence on herself, which reminded Patrick why she was there: the two women had planned a shopping trip into Brighton, ostensibly to help Helen choose a dress for some high-society wedding she was attending but more likely as an excuse for them to treat themselves to something frivolous and do lunch. No doubt they were now surrounded by bags and wrapping. Certainly, they were not expecting him. He hadn't been due to leave Madrid until the early evening, but having clinched the contract to make a range of guitars and lutes for the Conservatoire the day before he taken a leisurely breakfast and caught the lunch-time flight. Of course he had missed Jane as much as always, but he didn't really want to break into her fun with Helen and besides, it would be good to get straight into the workshop and start designing. So, he parked round the back of the barn and slipped into the sanctuary of his workshop.
No sooner had Patrick started to draw up some designs than he realised he needed a couple of books from the house. Not wanting to disturb Jane and Helen he slipped in quietly through the utility room and down the rear hallway to the library. Books in hand, quietly he left the library and headed back down the hall ... save something made him stop. Standing there in the still quietness he suddenly became aware of Jane and Helen's voices in the sitting room, familiar voices yet there was something strangely unfamiliar about them - a husky, whispering delicacy, a close familiarity. Like a moth to a flame he silently tiptoed past the library, stopping opposite the partially open doors to the sitting room. Unable to see either Helen or Jane, or be seen by them, he listened in wide-eyed amazement to their sweet and now unmistakably intimate voices.
- hmm, oh Helen that's lovely
- you like it
- oh yes, oh yes ... so nice ...
They could have been talking about dresses, but there was a breathlessness in Jane's voice that Patrick barely recognised, whilst the way Helen had whispered those three syllables was so gentle and low as to be almost ... seductive.
- oh, I've wanted this for so long
- have you
- you know I have
- how do I
- don't tease me Jane ...
- no, please, don't stop, don't stop ... hmm, oh that is so good
- you did know, didn't you
- well ... I don't know, I mean, it's not as if ...
- you're used to women fancying you
- no ... well I suppose I don't really know whether they do or not ... but I suppose I did feel there was something between us, you know, like I could feel something special in the way you look at me sometimes
- like I think you are completely and utterly wonderful
- do you
- of course, do you think I'd try to seduce just anyone
- I don't know
- no, I didn't mean it like that Helen ... I mean I don't think it's any of my business ... I mean, I just think being seduced by you it's just the loveliest thing
- oh Jane, that's so sweet
- oh yes, hmm, that's so nice, oh Helen, that's so good
Patrick was both amazed and mesmerized by the sound of Jane's willing seduction, for that he could not doubt was what it was. Whilst Helen was obviously the seducer and though he may have missed some earlier moments of indecision or resistance on Jane's part, she was clearly now beguiled by the temptation of Sapphic love. With a sense of indignity at his inability to resist the base desire to spy on his wife's pleasure, he crawled silently across the floor to peer voyeuristically between the door and its frame. Though almost completely out of view, Jane was sitting on the sofa beneath the window to the garden, clearly unworried that someone might wander round the side of the house and see her. Helen knelt between her thighs, her face beaming with playful delight as she teased and pleased Jane somewhere beyond Patrick's sight. Another sofa between him and Helen left him clueless as to what either woman was wearing, if anything - he blushed with shameful arousal at the thought that he might have witnessed them making love naked had he walked up the garden side of the house. For the next five minutes, during which he hardly dare breathe less he be discovered, Patrick watched and listened as Helen eased his wife to a level of womanly confession and fulfilment that was so deeply erotic for its intensity as to be humiliating when contrasted to his own ability to please her.
- hmm, oh Jane, you're so lovely ... I've been wanting you so much
- yes baby ... wanting to hold you, feel you ... smell you, hmm, your pussy smells so good
she loves what you're doing to her ...
she feels wonderful, so juicy ...
- oh that's lovely ... I want to come for you so much ...
- do you baby
- oh yes, so very much ... all warm ... and wet ...
- oh yes Jane, do it baby ...
- hmm, yes ... oh that's so nice ... I'm going to come so much, going to make my panties so wet ...
- oh Jane, you're magnificent ...
- oh yes, that's it, don't stop, don't stop Helen, I'm going to come ... that's so good, so good ... yes, so wet, oh yes, make me come, make me come ... yes ... yes!
Patrick stared through the slender gap with wide-eyed astonishment. Never had his wife ever expressed herself so freely when in the throes of orgasm, indeed, never both she sounded so overwhelmed with wanton emotion. He was, simultaneously, deflated by her need to find such lustful commitment elsewhere and vicariously elated for her. Whilst his mind was too confused to judge whether her flagrant infidelity - for that was what is was - would damage their love irreparably, he was rational enough to believe it must not sour the love they had known. He had always desired and loved Jane and at that precise moment, as she came so wildly beneath the sensitive touch of another woman, his desire for her was as intense as ever it had been. As intense as his desire was his envy of Helen. With unquenchable jealousy he imagined Helen's delight at watching his wife's beautiful face beam with pleasure as she came, of feeling the wetness as it soaked her panties, of breathing the sexy scent of her come. His envy turned to fresh humiliation as her heard Helen and Jane confess the depth of their mutual desire.
- oh Helen, that was gorgeous
- so are you
- thank you, thank you so much ...
- angel, I've been wanting to do that for weeks
- I know ... and I've been wanting you to ...
- I know
- something in the way I look at you sometimes?
- huh, huh
- like I'm undressing you and caressing you with my eyes?
- yeah, something like that!
- I confess it's true ... did you feel me doing it in your car earlier
- yes baby
- I wanted you so, I couldn't take my eyes off you, you just looked so sexy ... and did you know that every time you turned a corner your blouse fell open just a little, just enough ...
- I knew you were teasing me, tempting me ... and I confess I was so-o-o tempted, I wanted to lean across and slip my hand inside and touch your soft skin ... and then whenever you changed gear and your tiny skirt lifted just enough to let me see your tight white panties, I wanted to lean down and kiss you there ...
- oh Janey, I wish you had ...
A tear of embarrassment clouded Patrick's vision for a moment. It felt so discourteous to spy on such loving intimacy, dishonourable even. His chivalrous compulsion to leave was, curiously perhaps, reinforced as he watched Helen stand up. She was, he could not deny, an extremely attractive woman. From the side he could appreciate to the beauty of her face, the gloriously charismatic cascade of her thick and wavy red hair, the luscious sweeping curves of her body. He could not stop his eyes gliding over her round breasts, so plainly defined by her tight wrap-around blouse, and her long, toned thighs, so wonderfully exposed by the shortest skirt he had ever seen her in. For a moment animal lust conquered chivalry and he stared shamelessly as Helen began to untie her blouse.
- ... and then, on the way home - maybe it was the wine, maybe a feeling that something magical was going to happen ... or maybe just dirty lust - but I felt that unless I stared up at the sky and tried to think of stars I would be unable to stop myself reaching beneath my dress and masturbating there in front of you
- oh Janey, what a wonderful thought ...
- maybe I'll do it next time
- hmm, please baby ... oh, Janey, you turn me on so much ... hmm, I'd love to watch you Jane, love to see you unbutton your dress and let the sun and the breeze caress your skin while you slip your hand down inside your panties ...
- and tell you how wet my pussy is ... hmm, oh Helen, she is so-o wet, so hot, so longing to come for you again ... oh Helen, you are so gorgeous, will you open your blouse for me while you drive
- and pull up your skirt
- wantonly ... and tear off my panties so you can stare at my pussy will you make yourself come ...
- oh yes, oh yes, do it with me Helen, oh yes ... hmm, that's lovely ... Helen, I have a confession
- what angel
- I've been doing this a lot lately ...
- making yourself come baby
- yes, while thinking about you ... imagining you masturbating, dreaming about how sweet and wet and sticky your pussy would be when you came
- ... and I've been doing the same Jane, every time I see you I can't wait for the chance caress my body and imagine you're watching ...
Patrick crept away from the door, chivalry finally conquering his voyeuristic impulse. Slipping down the hall, the sound of Helen and Jane's mutual masturbation fading in his ears but no less intense in his mind. Unsure of what would happen next he returned to the sanctuary of his workshop and tried to concentrate on guitars until at least an hour had passed after Helen eventually left.
...continued in Astronomy 2 - Flagrante