All Things Come... Vol. 2 Ch. 07

BRUSSELS, MARCH

E-MAILS

ANGELA FISCHER TO LUKE

Dearest Luke

Ulrike gave me your e-mail address nearly a month ago, after your weekend in the Ardennes, but it's taken me this long to think everything through.

Luke, have you got any idea how happy she is? She paid a flying visit the other weekend and we talked for I don't know how long. She hasn't told me everything, I'm sure, but something's happened and it must be you. She's happier with herself, and more relaxed about the problems with the person she's seeing at college, and she can talk about you without that strained look that she had for a while. I suspect she loves you more than she knows, and when she said she'd managed to say something about that, I nearly cheered. If it were anyone else I'd be worried to death, but with you I know she's safe.

She's told me something about your life in Brussels. It sounds as if you've been having a fine old time there. God knows what the diplomatic community must make of you. If they're anything like the ones I know then you're a most salutary treat for them.

When Ulrike and I were talking at Christmas I jokingly mentioned that it was about time I had my twice-yearly crack at you. When she took me seriously I tried to pull back, but she wasn't having any of it, and I felt terrible. One, because mothers and daughters don't share men, and two, because just the thought of it got my juices flowing. I don't know what poor Klaus imagined was happening. I was demanding his special massages every day and driving him wild. You know he doesn't really like touching women in that way. Still, he's less clinical than a vibrator.

And now, without pulling any strings, (I solemnly promise), an invitation has arrived out of the blue. There's an EU Interior Ministers' meeting in Brussels in two weeks and the Austrian Ambassador is hosting a reception. And I was at school with his wife, and one thing led to another and... I swear I didn't angle for the invitation, but it arrived. Serendipity, I think it's called

So... could you bear the idea of escorting an old hag to the reception? It'll be nice safe territory for us to say hello to each other again, and decide if it's OK to have fun, or whether it might not be such a good idea. Ulrike explained how she'd brought the subject up, and she told me your reaction, and that I shouldn't take you for granted: don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs, I told her. It was so wonderful to see her really caring about someone else, even if it was only me. (Maybe it was you as well – I've only just thought of that.)

Tell me if it's a good idea or not.

With love, Angela

LUKE TO ANGELA

Old hag be damned. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to escort, (virtuously if necessary), the second most beautiful woman in Austria to a diplomatic reception. New experiences are the spice of life. Uli is something else, and it's a privilege to know her, and I'm working at understanding and responding to what she said. (Why do you still call her Ulrike, by the way?) But apart from that, you and I are the people who know best how hard she's worked and how much she's achieved, and we're allowed to get together and gloat over her success. Tell me where you're going to be staying, and I'll pick you up, do the diplomatic bit, and give you supper afterwards. It'll give me a chance to show off my new suit.

Love, Luke

ULI TO LUKE

Hi, darling,

Mum's so excited about her trip that she can't sleep! She called me to ask what you meant about the suit and I told her to wait and see. Don't worry too much: I trust you and I trust her, and I know you'll help her if she lets you. She could probably help you too, if you've got the balls to talk to her. Anyway, if the two people I love most in the world can't help each other, then what have we come to?

Work here is horrendous, and I'm not going to surface till Easter at least. Lottie and I are designing and cutting and sewing all night, and lectures and classes are still in full swing all day. If they could bottle sleep and sell it I'd buy a case.

Things with Dieter are difficult, but I'm handling them better than I thought I would: some of the problem is work, and the rest isn't his fault and I'm not going to bitch about him. When we see each other I might ask you for some Luke-type advice.

Please be nice to Mum: she deserves it, and she's due some good times. The bed bit is up to the two of you, as long as she has some fun and starts thinking positive: I've thought about it and I'm not going to be jealous of my own mother. If Trudi and Inge and the Brussels chorus-line don't worry me, why should she?

Luke, everything we said last month is burned into my soul. If you want me not to love you, you'll have to turn yourself into someone I can't love.

Always, between the ears,

Uli

LUKE to ULI

Message received. Keep helping me. Easter together, please, if you can spare the time. Would you like to come to Spain? I need to do some work on the house. Ears, XXXXX

ELENA, MAGDA, ANITA

There really is nothing like a long luxurious bath, Magda decided as she added more hot water to the steaming tub. She was small enough to stretch out completely, and only her face and nipples broke the surface. She felt at peace with the world, and thinking about the reception and what might happen afterwards gave her a pleasant fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew Jurgen would be there, and that if she played her cards right, then maybe... Her hand stole to her crotch and she pulled and twisted her pubic topknot gently, enjoying the feel of the hot water seeping between her heavy labia.

The classes were going better too, she mused. The first time after her talk with Luke had been awkward, but he'd been as confident as ever and had helped her to handle it as well. And the night she'd spent with him last week had been the best yet. She pulled her pubic tuft a little harder as she remembered his cock nudging the mouth of her pussy and sliding in, slowly, oh so slowly, so that she could feel every vein as she drew him into her, the broad head stretching her with its familiar, gentle insistence, always the same, always fresh and different. The taste of her on his lips as their mouths met in a languorous kiss had excited her beyond belief. He was completely honest, she thought fondly. He'd explained what had caused the post-Christmas problems, admitted that he'd failed, letting his own emotions affect their learning relationship as well as their personal one, how he'd been forced to accept that his feelings for Uli had been blocking him, how he owed her for pointing this out to him... How many men, she wondered, would have taken the trouble to say so much? Now that she knew why a part of him was missing, and understood that he wasn't withholding anything except the corner of him that needed the Austrian girl, she'd been able to relax back into the innocent sensuality that had helped turn her into Magda mark II.

'I've said this to Anita and Elena as well,' he'd murmured wryly, 'and I suppose you'll be comparing notes. When you do that, remember that I try to tailor classes to individual students. I say the same things, but in a way that I hope will engage each of them most directly. I've got to say that I've done the same with you three. No deception, just trying to connect completely. I've told them that bit as well,' he'd added. 'It's my own fault for having such bloody smart students, I suppose. Next year I'll make sure I get cretins.' The laugh had died in her throat as he'd begun again, caressing her breasts with his tongue and then moving south, using his mouth to excite her to fever pitch before driving into her and guiding her to another thrashing, moaning orgasm. Her hand snaked down from her mound and began to stroke the tingling lips of her pussy.

'What are you doing in there? Wearing out the soap?' Anita's clear voice rang out and made Magda jump. The door swung open and Anita hurried in and flung herself onto the toilet. She exhaled contentedly and began to piss. Magda smiled as a look of relief spread over her friend's face and Anita grinned at her.

'That's better. I thought I was going to burst. I'm only going to shower, so you don't have to rush out. What are you wearing? It's not black tie, is it?'

'No, thank God.' Magda sat up and started conditioning her hair, combing it carefully. Her slim torso glowed in the steamy warmth of the bathroom.

'Are you calmer than you were during class?' she asked mischievously. She knew that Anita had stayed behind to "go over a few things" with Luke. Anita blushed, and then smiled reluctantly. She wiped herself delicately, wincing a little, then stood up and began to strip off her clothes.

'Bitch. It was wonderful. He could tell I was gagging for it and he took me from behind, over the classroom table, without even taking my knickers down. Just spun me round, pulled them to one side, and forced it into me, right between the tattoos, and I was so wet he slid straight in. My jeans were round my ankles and I couldn't move, and he wouldn't stop... God he's incredible: it was all over in twenty minutes, but it felt like an hour. I came like a train, three times, and I'm still feeling wobbly.' Her bra and panties followed her other clothes into the laundry basket and she turned to the mirror to inspect herself. Her pussy lips were slightly swollen, and Magda could see faint bruising on her hips: marks that could have been caused by strong fingers digging into delicate flesh. Her own pussy prickled enviously and she smiled to herself in anticipation.

'You like it a bit rough sometimes, don't you?' she said idly. 'That's not what I thought when I first met you. I thought you were little Miss Prim.' Anita squinted at herself, examining her face.

'Only a bit, and only sometimes,' she said quickly. 'Not what I thought either, and that's why I was crawling up the walls. And I was a bit prim, I suppose. Too shy to ask, too repressed to masturbate, too silly to realize. But here I am, stark naked, with his cum still dripping out of me, talking to you about it. He's sorted me out, bless him.' She stood up and ran her hands over her breasts, twisting her nipples gently till they stiffened, the areolas puckering. Her body shone with health, every muscle defined and toned without compromising her femininity. 'He made me look at myself. I always knew I was physical, but I hadn't made the connection between working out hard and liking hard sex. If he gives me a good seeing-to every two or three weeks that's fine by me, and to be honest it's all I need: I don't get distracted, and I can get on with my work. I'm not as complicated as you or Elena. You didn't say what you were wearing tonight.' Magda was using the shower attachment to rinse her hair.

'Well, it's lounge suits, so I can go short. I'm going to put my hair up and wear that maroon dress I bought last summer. It looks expensive, and there'll be enough skin showing to excite Jurgen. I've decided I'm going to have him or bust in the attempt.' She giggled and turned the spray off. Anita grinned at her as she stepped into the shower.

'Slut. We're both happier than we were a month ago, aren't we? I hope Elena feels the same.'

'She does,' said Magda. 'Didn't you see her on Monday? She had that well-fucked look about her, and she couldn't stop yawning.' The two girls caught each others' eye and started laughing.

* * * * *

Elena finished dressing and sat down to do her make-up. She gazed at herself critically in the mirror. Not bad for an old broad, she thought. She looked at least five years younger than her age, and the stress wrinkles that had begun to worry her after Christmas had gone. That Luke, she chuckled to herself, he's something else: just waltzed back and fixed the situation, calmly telling her that he was fonder of the Austrian girl than he'd imagined, but that he wasn't going to let it affect him any more. He'd apologized politely for not sorting himself out sooner, and... she'd been completely disarmed, she realized, and hadn't protested when he'd casually told her that he was planning to bop her socks off as soon as they finished dinner.

'That started out as an apology fuck,' he'd said hoarsely afterwards, as they sprawled on his bed, her breath still whistling in her throat as she hugged the warm glow of her second orgasm, trying not to lose the feeling, 'but I guess it went beyond that. If you carry on like this the next one won't be apologetic at all.' He'd smiled ruefully, drawing her into complicity with his confession, and she'd reached up and ruffled his hair, realizing with a start that she believed him, and that the relaxed intimacy she valued so much had been magically restored. She wondered again how he'd managed it, then tossed the thought aside. It was enough that he had. She discovered that she was humming to herself as she applied mascara to her lids, and shook her head again at the strangeness of it all.

ANGELA, LUKE

The phone rang and Angela jumped to her feet.

'Yes?' The smooth voice of the receptionist spoke.

'Mr. Lancer has arrived, Frau Fischer, and is waiting for you in the bar.'

'Thank you.' She put the phone down and took a deep breath. It was ridiculous that she should be feeling like this. Rich, sophisticated, blasé, seen it all, and she was like a schoolgirl on a first date. She moved to the full-length mirror and checked herself. A slim, youthful figure looked back at her, its slender body expensively covered with a miracle in emerald silk. Her hair was recently cut and styled and the top-up surgery she'd endured the previous autumn took fifteen years off her. You're forty-four, she thought sternly, so just grow up. Her heart was light and she stuck her tongue out at herself before turning and leaving the suite with a spring in her step.

As she entered the bar a familiar figure rose from a small table and started towards her. She couldn't maintain her poise any longer and quickened her pace, a delighted grin spreading across her face.

'Oh, Luke, it's so good to see you again.' She turned her face up and he kissed her lightly on the lips, as if they'd seen each other only that morning.

'Angela. You look stupendous and sexy and younger than ever ... and everything. How are you?' His voice was the same, soft and carrying a hint of amusement, and she put her arms round him and kissed him again, her nervousness gone.

'Suddenly I'm much better. What are we drinking?' He smiled.

'Practical as ever. Rumor has it that your friend the Ambassador will be serving "gluhwein", so I thought we'd better get a head start by having something decent first. There's a bottle of Sancerre waiting. I didn't want to start without you.' His German really is surprisingly good, she thought irrelevantly as he took her arm and seated her, then himself, and leaned back to look at her properly. A waiter arrived and the ceremony of wine-opening was performed. When their glasses were full and they'd toasted each other wordlessly he winked at her.

'Have you noticed that every eye in the room is clocking us discreetly? If I keep hanging out with the Fischer women it's something I'll have to get used to. How are you going to introduce me to people tonight?' Angela blinked.

'I hadn't thought about that. Will "friend of the family" do?' He nodded, and she suddenly realized that she'd never seen him formally dressed before. She looked more closely. 'Luke, where did you get that suit. It's beautiful. They must be paying you a fortune. What is it? Armani?' He shook his head.

'Fischer and Lottie. It's a one off.' It took her a moment to understand.

'Fischer and ...? You mean Ulrike? She made it?'

'Designed it, cut it, made it, with her roommate's help, she insisted on saying. It was a sort of New Year's gift. And you really should call her Uli. She won't thank me for telling you, but she hates Ulrike. It reminds her of Frau Kurtz.' Angela was only half-listening. She leaned forward and ran her fingers over the material.

'My daughter? You mean she made this? My God, Luke, it's incredible...' He took her hand.

'Calm yourself, Angela. She's the beautiful, rich daughter of a rich man and a beautiful woman. Don't be surprised if she creates rich, beautiful things. Get her to design for you. She'd absolutely love it if you asked her.' Angela shook her head.

'I can't believe it. Give me some more wine immediately: I think I'm in shock.' Luke's eyes looked quietly pleased as he poured and she felt a stab of emotion. He's thinking of her, and how she'll feel when I tell her what I think, she realized, stifling a twinge of envy. Luke was looking at her again.

'Don't worry about that,' he said. Tonight's for us, and for fun, and we'll decide the details when we get there. What time is this shindig meant to kick off?' She managed a smile.

'You really are dangerously perceptive,' she said seriously, 'and I'm damned if I know how you do it.' He shrugged in that familiar way.

'When they'd made me they broke the mold. In fact there was a petition signed by hundreds, begging them to break it .If we've got time I'd like to take you for a better drink and a nibble at Annette's. I'm aching to show you off, and there's a good chance there'll be people there that I know, and I'm not going to trust the Ambassador's canapés.' He looked like a kid with new shoes, and despite herself she laughed.

'What's Annette's?'

You'll see. Her wine's just as good as this place's, and about a tenth of the price. Come on.' He reached out and took her hand, and a thrill ran through her as he pulled her gently to her feet.

As they got out the taxi she burst into laughter.

'A bistro, an old style bistro! I haven't been in a place like this for years and years.' He put his arm round her and squeezed gently.

'High time you did, then. We'll be a bit overdressed, but the owner's a friend, and it'll be a nice contrast to the Embassy'. He opened the door for her and smiled ironically. 'After you, milady.' She gathered her shawl round her shoulders and entered.

Inside it was bigger than she'd expected. The décor was old fashioned and the room smelt of warmth and food and Belgian tobacco. A vast middle-aged woman approached, then saw who she was with, and pushed past her.

'Luke, my bad Luke, you look so smart! What a suit, Mon Dieu, you're like a prince.' She gathered Luke into a crushing embrace and Angela watched in amusement as he struggled to escape.

'Annette, Annette, control yourself. I can't be yours tonight. What would Pierre say if he found out? Tonight I'm being escorted, let me introduce you.' His French is really very good too, thought Angela as Annette turned to her and kissed her politely, then stood back and inspected her. She turned to Luke, her lips quirking into a smile.

'You are bad, really bad. You've brought her here to make me jealous.' She winked at Angela. 'Be careful with this one, ma cherie: he'll break your heart and you'll grow old and fat like me, and then where will you be?' She burst into gusty laughter and led them to a table. 'White wine and a bowl of mussels?' she suggested. 'You're going on somewhere, but a little sustenance is always necessary.' She dug Luke in the ribs. 'Would you rather have oysters, you bad boy? I used to make Pierre eat a dozen every night. They're very good for the male energies, I remember.' Angela stifled her laughter as Luke flushed. Annette chuckled wheezily again and waddled off, and Luke turned to Angela with a rueful shrug.

'What can I say? Her husband is the finest unknown chef in Brussels, and she's a gem. I come here a lot, because I plain love the place.' Angela realized that the other patrons were stealing surreptitious looks at them, and smiling as they caught Luke's eye. He nodded back at one enthusiastic voyeur and then glanced at her slightly shamefacedly. 'I said I wanted to show you off. My stock's rising by the minute. What do you think?' Angela blew him a kiss.