Tom and the Dazzling Fiona Ch. 02

Tom and the Dazzling Fiona Ch. 02

He wanted to get married but she was doubtful.

This story is entirely fictional.

*

Tom Cassavettes's mother was what some would disparagingly call 'a typical upper class British woman'. As well as coming from a titled family she had been brought up in a staunch Church of England household where Sunday attendance at church was considered normal.

On this occasion her only son had his own reason for accompanying Margaret to morning service but was left with the feeling that he was being a touch hypocritical. Having over time lost his faith Tom eased his conscience by deciding that he was merely acceding to his mother's often repeated urgings. But of course it was all solely Fiona Napier's doing.

The dust having been thoroughly disturbed by the worshippers was being caught and coloured softly by the rays of sunlight spilling through the stained glass windows. The congregation was sparse, and the pews were upright, hard and uncomfortable, which was not helping Tom to concentrate.

His attention which was already wandering far from the service was now directed solely at Fiona who was perhaps six metres away in the front row.

Tom was transfixed by the vulnerable nape of her elegant neck which was being lit by yet another shaft of light. Her heavy ash blond hair was twisted up in a coil on her head and topped by a straw boater but his increasingly powerful day dream was suddenly broken by his mother's sibilant whisper.

"Tom, that beautiful blond girl, the vicar's daughter, I seem to remember that you spent quite a lot of time together just before you went up to University."

She half pointed, half nodded in the approximate direction that Tom's lustful gaze had been fixed for the last ten minutes. Did she suspect his state of love and admiration? Maybe she did for Margaret was pretty clued up and could keep her own council.

"She has bewitched all the young men hereabouts, but that's not surprising for she has grown into a very beautiful woman."

Tom listened mutely as Margaret moved on to make acerbic comments about the rest of the congregation, all in a voice that threatened to compete with the vicar's sonorous tones. She was easy company on an occasion such as this particularly when she never stopped for, nor required, a reply.

He had become convinced that monologues such as these were the province of all her class of Ladies whom he often met. They, without exception, had no notion of moderating the volume of their voices even when talking disparagingly of others.

Fiona smiled secretly at Tom as she returned from the communion rail all unseen by Margaret Cassavettes who was still receiving the blood of Christ. Fortunately he decoded the smile correctly and knew in an instant that it was his job to work out a way for them to be alone after the service.

"You go on ahead," he said as he helped Margaret up into her Range Rover. He was privately amused when she then kicked off her high heels and pushed her feet into the sensible flat shoes that lived under the driving seat. "I'll walk back across the churchyard."

Fiona tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they strolled along the avenue of yew and thuja where it took her hardly a moment to return to the subject of last night's telephone conversation.

"Will you volunteer?"

"It is obviously my duty and my destiny, so yes. Bloody right I will."

She giggled and after a quick look around kissed him fleetingly on the lips. This brief second kiss after three years of erotic memories only served to stoke his desire and make him even more her slave.

"Where could we go?"

Tom was brought back to the present and pretended a bewilderment which he did not feel.

"For what?"

She sighed in exasperation and squeezed his arm against her breast.

"Thomas Cassavettes, you know very well what I'm talking about."

He laughed at her lack of humour but continued to poke fun.

"What about your room at the vicarage?"

"You must be joking" she replied in exasperation, then immediately realised that the joke was on her. "Stop it at once and be serious, I can't bear you making fun about this of all things."

"My parents are going back to town in the morning," he said immediately, regretting having upset Fiona and suddenly becoming fearful of her doing an about turn, "you could come round to Tremaine Place."

She thought about the daily staff and then discounted them. But the housekeeper was a very different matter.

"As long as Mrs Varco doesn't see me, she's so thick with my mother it's bound to get back to my parents."

"She's actually going to Chichester with your mother. There're having a day out together," now Tom had really surprised her, "on Tuesday. So if you can get the day off then we would have the house to ourselves."

Fiona was so pleased with this simple solution to what had at first seemed an insoluble puzzle that she actually danced around Tom before bestowing another soft kiss on his lips.

"See you on Tuesday then."

She was looking like the cat who'd got the cream when she went through the vicarage gate and gave him a final wave.

............

Tom watched Fiona emerge from the driving seat of her mother's little car with all the elegance of a finishing school pupil. Knees tight together and her back straight. She then disappeared from his sight to enter the house through the kitchens and he hurried to intercept her.

The alterations to Tremaine Place which had been initiated by Tom's Greek/American father had transformed the mansion. Tom knew that the Architect had been forced to fight hard with the listed building authorities and with the local town planners but because of his persistence they had got one hundred percent of what they wanted having wisely asked for far more in the initial application.

The building was now restored to its original appearance as an elegant mellow early eighteenth century stately home but had also become a comfortable country house with the large rectangular courtyard at the rear now completely glassed over to form both a conservatory and an indoor swimming pool.

All the later Victorian additions had been removed, modern electrics, plumbing, heating and hot water had been installed and the roof had been stripped, releaded and retiled. It even had ensuite bathrooms installed to the majority of the bedrooms not to mention a state of the art kitchen for the housekeeper.

He caught up with Fiona in the conservatory and was relieved to see the look of welcome on her face when he appeared.

Tom had woken that morning full of doubt, not for his decision to help her out for what red blooded male wouldn't, that she might have changed her mind. Then his doubts had gone further. What if she was merely using him? What if once the act was done she blew him off? Or was this part of a devious plan to get a rich husband and she was playing her cards very carefully?

But having accepted that he couldn't second guess Fiona's motives then he would just play along.

"Come and swim," said Tom temptingly as he escorted her into the pool area.

"I didn't think to bring my costume."

She was already shrugging in disappointment even as she was forced to decline the offer.

"Do you need one?" He asked while boldly stripping off his clothes then diving in naked.

She watched as if frozen, obviously struck dumb by this unabashed act, and by the time she had recovered her wits he was already watching from the middle of the pool curious as to how she would respond. But after a moment of uncertainty she also undressed completely before primly folding and making a neat pile of her discarded clothes.

Now he forgot to breath as a naked Fiona stood motionless at the water's edge looking statuesque in the diffused sunlight. Was she taunting him for his doubts? Her breasts stood proud but his eyes were drawn inescapably to the drift of blond hair which covered the secret place between her thighs.

"You are gorgeous."

He whispered his admiration before letting out a long appreciative sigh being well aware of the effort it had cost this fabulous woman to copy him rather than wimping out. Tom felt both sympathy and admiration in equal measures as she stood there defiant and proud but then, as if a spell was suddenly broken, Fiona raised her arms and pushed off in a racing dive.

Using the momentum of her entry she stayed beneath the water for half the length of the pool before surfacing beside him and shaking out her long hair in an arc of spray. Then with a whoop of triumph she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her legs to encircle his waist.

The feel of her erect nipples against his chest and her pelvic bone against his partial erection turned his mind instantly to the purpose of the day before he spluttered as her weight pulled them under.

Later they put on towelling robes taken from the poolside changing area and left a trail of slowly drying footprints across the stone paving to the doors which opened into the Main Hall. Fiona had never been up the formal staircase and marvelled as they took the left hand branch leading to the West Wing and towards Tom's suite of rooms. The enormous portraits looking down upon them as if in judgement made her giggle.

"They know why I'm here that's for sure; just look at their expressions. That one," she had stopped beneath a dissolute looking Regency dandy "looks as if he knew his way around a woman's bedroom."

The thought of past illicit liaisons in this ancient building made her pause again.

"And I bet I'm not the first virgin maid to be deflowered in this house."

He smiled in admiration of her courage but also in sympathy for he actually thought that all this chirpy conversation was merely an effort to appear unconcerned and worldly wise. But in that assumption he was entirely mistaken. Not in his guess that she was nervous but in assuming that it was because of what was about to take place. In fact Fiona was scared almost witless by the overpowering evidence of power and wealth which Tom took for granted.

He then, quite bizarrely, found himself thinking that even their heights were compatible. Walking with this woman was comfortable for without high heels her shoulder seemed to fit snugly under his enveloping arm and he found himself imagining Fiona being around Tremaine Place permanently.

However he postponed considering that pleasurable thought as he ushered her through a heavy door.

"Oh my God," she said on crossing the threshold, then, "what a ginormous bedroom," followed shortly by, "and you've even got a separate dressing room with all these built in wardrobes."

Fiona was then rendered silent but not for long.

"And a fabulous bathroom thrown in...is this all yours?"

"All mine," he replied but was suddenly forced into a bark of laughter as she continued.

"And just look at the size of your bed."

Laughing in sheer high spirits she flung herself onto the waiting expanse.

"If you can't sleep you can just lie on your back looking up at the painted ceiling. Those cute little cherubs doing mucky things to each other would make anyone randy."

She followed Tom into the bathroom and let her dressing gown slither to the floor obviously totally unconcerned now at being naked in front of him, before shimmying into the shower.

When soaping each other clean of the pool chemicals they started by fooling about but that soon died away. The intimate proximity and then the direct contact of hands on bodies turned swiftly into exploration followed predictably by rising passion.

They had transferred to the bed with their naked bodies strained together when she whispered in his ear.

"I would usually have copped out long before now."

"Oh god not today,please." He groaned in genuine alarm but her subsequent actions soon turned his sudden fear into intense excitement.

Fiona's rounded body was firm and without blemish. Her skin was silky smooth, and even after the shower she smelt and tasted of the mysterious East. It was a perfume with which Tom was not familiar but he decided it was probably sandalwood and that he liked it a lot. So much so that he would move heaven and earth to make her his own.

"What are you thinking about." She asked, tweaking his nipple to gain attention.

"Oh, nothing much," he lied outrageously as he moved down to kiss her tiny puckered navel and then followed the trail of silky blond hair which lead downwards all the while thinking 'please don't let her find somebody else'.

In the event she was so ready for his entry that the first time invasion was not difficult and contrary to what she had read in the women's magazines Fiona orgasmed twice before Tom groaned and filled the contraceptive.

............

Later when sitting in the conservatory and with a bottle of cola in her hand she searched his face for the answer to her question.

"You don't think me a slut to have asked you so brazenly, do you Tom?"

He pulled her to him feeling strong and protective before realising with a jolt of surprise that this was an emotion he could get used to.

"Never" he was smiling with pleasure "you are too genuine to ever be accused of being vulgar".

She laughed but then grew serious.

"Tom that was a wonderful surprise. I don't know what I expected but never such expertise."

He was secretly very flattered by her praise but then told a half truth.

"I think it was you who bought out the best in me."

She smiled but was obviously determined to get something else off her chest.

"Hanging on to my virginity had originally seemed such a good idea but then it became a joke. Okay a secret joke, but I can't thank you enough for coming to my aid."

Very much later they were nearly at her mother's car when he mentioned something which he feared would make his hoped for future with Fiona a lot more difficult.

"I'm going back to Uni in September. In fact I'm going back to the LSE up in London to do a Master's Degree. When I eventually join my father's company I want to be well prepared."

To his disappointment she didn't seem at all disturbed by this news and he thought bloody hell I've only just gone all the way with her and she doesn't seem to care that I'm not going to be around. But what he actually said was equally to the point.

"Still I suppose I can get home pretty often and I might even be able to persuade you to come up to London occasionally." Then he brightened, "and we've still got a few weeks left of my holiday."

...........

Tom had survived the first month or so of the Autumn Term. Now well into the first year of his Master's degree he had become resigned to the long haul. Three years as an undergraduate and now a further two on top was becoming very daunting to someone who wanted to get on with the real thing, namely working for the family firm.

But, as he had been reminded by his father who knew precisely what buttons to press, if you wanted to become a lawyer or a doctor or even an architect then five years was the very minimum just to get on the first rung of the ladder.

And to be truthful it was a big help to have unlimited funds at his disposal, no worries for him about whether a grant would stretch to cover everything, and to have the use of the family penthouse in the City was incalculable.

He had slipped into the timetable without any problem and thankfully the 'Master's' was very different from his degree course as it gave him far more time for extra curricular activities.

But however hard he tried the image of Fiona and of her delicious perfume kept intruding and he somehow never got round to taking up any of the blatant invitations for sexual dalliance that he regularly received.

Did Fiona ever think of him? Did she remember that first occasion at Tremaine Place and their subsequent meetings? He hesitated to call them dates, in fact they had almost exclusively taken place in his bed which she had grown to know rather well.

"You came my rescue." she had said on one memorable occasion, "so I owe you. Besides which, sex with you is pretty damn good."

So why the silence from her end? She had implied that he was a good lover so that didn't seem to be the problem. Was there already someone else in her life?

In the end however he cracked and phoned Fiona. He was determined to sound casual and cool but at the first sound of her voice he nearly lost it. His body betrayed him and his voice had very nearly followed suit so he got quickly to the point of the call.

"Do you fancy coming up to town one day next week?"

He held his breath until she confirmed which was her day off and then hugged himself.

............

Tom met Fiona off the train at London Bridge and by the time they were having coffee in Covent Garden he had regained his confidence and his normal self assured manner.

She had clearly taken a lot of care with her outfit which was carefully chosen to suit the autumn weather and maybe to compete with the fashionable London women she would encounter. Her wonderful hair was up under a mohair beret, and beneath her calf length navy coat she wore tweed slacks and a soft angora roll neck sweater.

They sat drinking espresso's at a small table in the lower concourse and listened along with the other customers to a trio of classical musicians who were probably from some nearby conservatoire, but Tom only had eyes for Fiona.

Later he took her across the square to a smart Italian Restaurant and was amused to see the reaction of the waiters when the delectable Fiona followed him in. During the process of shedding her coat assisted by one appreciative attendant and then being shown to her seat by yet another, Tom was captivated once more by the sensual aura that she so effortlessly radiated.

"How's your job going."

He asked although immediately regretted the banality of the question which immediately got the answer it deserved.

"It's Okay, nothing ever changes much, but here we are together and with the whole afternoon before us and all you want to do is ask about my boring job."

He held up his hands in an effort to call a halt but she was now in full flow.

"And all these beautiful women everywhere I look. I keep thinking that if I had only made a better job of my time at school then I might be working up here in London."

Head lowered she then peeked at him and his heart lurched.

"Not that I would ever have been clever enough...but enough of me. Have you met the love of your life?"

Since her visit's to his bed Tom found the thought of sex with any other woman insipid and without attraction. In fact his libido was restricted to salacious thoughts of the woman sitting opposite and to masturbation at the memory of their times in bed.

So it was not difficult to reply with a partial truth.

"Well you know how it is, I have so much work to do that I never seem to have time for a social life let alone going out with women."

During lunch she was clearly devoting her considerable talent to enjoying the whole experience of dining out in such an expensive restaurant but when he asked if she would like coffee she turned her face up and devouring him with her devastating eyes whispered,

"No thanks. I would prefer to go back to your place."

Well she had once said that she enjoyed sex with him so that suited Tom. He phoned from the table for a cab and by the time he was paying the bill the Head Waiter came over.

"Your taxi is here Mr Cassavettes, and did madam enjoy her meal?"

"Madam did, very much," said Fiona as she smiled all round and it was a tribute to the self effacing qualities of Tom's security guard that Fiona had never for a moment suspected his discreet presence until on leaving the restaurant the pair were jostled by a couple of soccer fans obviously up in London for a match.