Fashion is Our Name Pt. 01

Dear Readers - This is a modern story of love and danger in many parts. Enjoy.

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Fashion is our Name - Part 1 - They had to carry on

Chapter 1 - Philip Disappears

Her hand on his shoulder woke him. "Let me in there."

He sleepily moved over, saying, "I don't have anything on."

She was very cold and pressed herself to him.

"Neither do I. Don't worry about it."

"How did you get so cold?"

His strong arms gathered her in. She was shaking and he discovered she was crying.

"I miss him so."

Adrian's father, Philip, had failed to return from a business trip. Obliquely, he had warned them them this could happen. When it did, they were miserable, knowing that he was in some obscure way part of the intelligence community, and normal inquiries would be hopeless.

They did what they had to do, which was to go on with their lives. Adrian was about to pass out of public school and Nicole was a designer in a furnishings emporium catering to upper class residents and Londoners with country places nearby.

Almost three months to the day after Philip's trip had begun, a man in nondescript clothes appeared at their door at dinner hour and said he would like a word with them. A look at his face dashed any hope they had of good news.

"I am very sorry indeed to inform you that Philip is dead. We don't know the exact circumstances because it appears he was on an unofficial mission." The man opened his satchel and removed two cardboard packages. "One of these is a few of Philip's personal effects, and the other is his ashes, or at least part of them. They were delivered to us by an agent of the Czech government, who said he was an intermediary and not able to say where they came from or who gave them to him."

The gentleman would not identify himself and departed in a few minutes, leaving no more information than he had just provided. At the door, he pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled a phone number on it. "If you find yourselves in a genuine emergency, call this number and use Philip's name, not the Sandringham alias."

The boxes sat unopened on the table in the foyer for several days. After meals, Nicole would gaze at them as she came into the front room and fall into Adrian's arms on the sofa, sobbing.

Finally, on the weekend, Adrian announced he was opening them and took a knife to the wrappings. He carefully placed the contents on the dining table. It was a pitiful collection. A sturdy plastic sack with the ashes could easily have been mistaken for ordinary mortar powder. The small pile from the other box included his NHS card, in the name of Alex Sandringham. A British passport in the same name. A nylon keychain with three keys on it. A notebook, about the size of a wallet, with a great deal of small and fine handwriting in code. A tiny container of waterproof lip balm. Several one Euro coins. A rail receipt from Paris to Geneva on the TGV dated four days after he had left on the trip.

In the dark of his bedroom, Adrian tried to console Nicole, patting gently on her shoulder. She guided his hand to her breast and pressed back against him harder. He had an erection and moved to get it away from her rear.

"It's all right," she whispered. "Guys your age are always hard."

As she warmed, the sniffles stopped and she was asleep. He lay there for a long time, wondering what they should do. Philip's way of life left them with few connections to the places where he purchased houses. Adrian had never met his mother, although Philip spoke fondly of her from time to time. Nicole was a teenage runaway dancing in a Paris club when Philip connected with her and promised a good life if she would become his companion. He spoke Parisian French and wooed her carefully and sweetly. Nicole told Adrian she never doubted his affection even after he revealed the existence of other women friends.

As the black outside turned to gray, his eyes closed and sleep claimed him.

He woke to find a naked Nicole climbing back into his bed with a tray of coffee and croissants.

"That was nice of you to take me in last night." She handed him the small cup of thick coffee and a large piece of pastry. In Nicole's view, the day could not begin until coffee and croissant has been consumed. It was Saturday, and he was expected to return to school in a week. He thought they had better talk through some plans before then. When Phillip was home, an air of exquisite organization pervaded the house. For every eventuality, short or longer term, he seemed to have already created a plan. Adrian felt a vacuum in their lives, which had been on hold for more than three months.

The unexpected intimacy of Nicole's body next to his was powerful. An unmistakable odor coming from under the sheet covering her left no doubt that a woman was in bed with him. If he had any doubts, his cock didn't. It was fully erect and making a tent in the covers.

Nicole gestured at him and smiled. "I've never told you how handsome and manly I think you've become. If Philip were here, he probably would not like my making eyes at you."

He emitted a small noise of embarrassment. At school, there was a lot of gutter talk about girls, but truth to tell, he had no close up experience. Until last night, he had never had a woman's breast in his hand. Worse, to his mind, he was still a virgin, even though his eighteenth birthday had passed last fall.

She ran her hand through his auburn locks. Until recently, his friends, all boys, had kidded him about his girlish looks. A year of growth, a vigorous beard, and muscles from varsity rugby had changed that around. Girls looked at him, and his teammates respected him. It didn't hurt that he was always at the top of the Dean's list.

She said, "We can't just lie around here. Philip would not have wanted that. After you graduate, what then?"

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. She turned so the nipple on her right breast was in reach of his tongue, and he licked it.

After Philip enticed her to come back to Britain with him, Nicole realized she needed to be more fit. Somehow, in their first wild bouts of sex in his Paris hotel room, she had not noticed what a tight, hard body he possessed. The house she first lived in with him and Adrian was outside York, in a small village on the edge of marshlands. He had an adaptation to cold, and perpetually went around the house in short and tight briefs. He introduced her to commando style dressing, which shocked her French upbringing and love of lacy underwear. He favored her black boy shorts with the elastic band, so that he could slip up unnoticed and have his hand down her front and in her bottom in seconds. She told him if he wanted the easy access to continue, he had to help get her body into shape like his. This was a bit of a joke, but they enjoyed bantering about how she was going to best him at arm wrestling any day.

Her hand on the back of Adrian's head was filling his mouth with a large amount of firm breast. "Yes. Use your tongue on me." Her fingers were running up and down his back, digging here and there, finding muscles to massage.

He came up for air, only to find his mouth now mashed against hers, with their tongues exploring each other.

"I suppose you are old enough to know what my problem is?"

Adrian may have been inexperienced, but he wasn't a fool. "You need sex. You got a lot from him and now he is gone."

"I have a confession to make. Ever since you came home a week ago and I got a look at how big you are, how handsome, and how you have erections around me, I've been juicing and fantasizing about sex with you."

He waited to see if she was going to say more. She was still kissing him lightly.

There was a hard note in his voice, "You are lying in my bed, stewing in your juices, having teenage makeout with me, and asking if I want you."

He added, "Guessing that you will be my first."

Their eyes locked and he saw the vulnerability there. She was ten years older than he was. Too young to be his mother, too old to be his girlfriend. She had given up her whole life to be an unmarried companion to his father. He'd heard them having sex many times. Active, sometimes violent loving with wailing screams at the end. She lay beside him, every schoolboy's fantasy, offering him her body. His hand delicately felt between her legs, finding the lips and the cleft between them.

"Harder. We don't break. You aren't messing with china, after all." Her laugh was very loving. He hadn't heard her laugh since Phillip's disappearance.

"Does every guy feel totally foolish the first time?"

"I'm not a guy. I think you can tell that, can you?" She laughed again.

The silence lengthened, and finally she turned into him and whispered, "You've got a big hard thing, and I've got a warm wet hole that wants him. It's as simple as that."

She rolled them over, grasped his cock and guided it right where it belonged. She was lubricated from the talk and playing around. He went further with little resistance. She rested her hands on his ass and humped up at him. He grunted and felt their front bones collide.

"Yes. That's it. You are a man now. Fuck me properly."

He had read about it, but was still embarrassed when he ejaculated after the fourth hard stroke. The sensation was incredible. Nothing to match it, ever. She let him rest for seconds, and urged him back to work. "You can't stop until the girl comes. It's not fair. If you leave a girl hanging, there will be trouble in your love life."

He liked it. They made a rhythm together. She called him a no good fucking bastard. He drove harder and faster into her. Her words turned to moans and rising, into wails. The orgasm was long and deep, shaking her to the core, and him with her.

He sensed the moment to roll over again to get his weight off.

She kissed him and wiggled and shook above him. His hands massaged and slapped her buns.

Between kisses, she said, "There's a lot of porn about older women and younger guys. Have you read any of it?"

"No. Should I?"

"As long as this old lady's body pleases you as much as it seems to, I think you are better off doing it than reading about it."

She laughed and wiggled around. If she did that much more, he was going to be hard again.

She climbed out and said, "Let's see if that ridiculous shower will hold two."

In the kitchen, she fixed them each a soft boiled egg on white toast. There was bitter orange marmalade and he had another piece of toast.

"Fucking my lover's son. That's not in the etiquette book, is it?" Her eyes were dancing, her voice carrying a hint of French accent. He was falling for her, minute by minute.

He said, "Are we going to stay together, you and I?"

She moved into his lap, straddling his thighs. Her fresh womanly smell drifted up between them. His cock lengthened out beneath her.

She pressed bare boobs into his chest. "Let's go shopping before it rains. We can talk about us on the way. When we get back, it is time to see what we can find in Philip's office."

Their cottage was isolated on a country lane about a quarter mile from the road leading to the village. It was a typical Phillip choice. Privacy, but still fitting in. The sort of thing regular folks on a long term visit would do. They were on the outskirts of Rye, a neglected channel port that went back to medieval times and retained much of its original character. One of the towers in town dated to the thirteenth century. Philip had frequent need to cross the channel unobserved, and found remnants of smuggler families going back centuries whose descendants appreciated his contributions to making their daytime fishing vessels into fast cross channel cruisers at night, outfitted with the latest in radar and satnav gear.

The shopkeepers knew Nicole and Adrian and gave them friendly hellos. Nicole usually received a festive Bonjour, and replied in French. The Normans had held sway here for hundreds of years, and French visitors were frequent. It had enhanced Philip's reputation in the village that his girlfriend was a pretty, vivacious Parisian.

To date, the two of them had maintained the fiction of an extra long business trip for Philip. On the way to town, they agreed this facade should continue for now. Their conversation was warm and agreeable and easily avoided the issue of 'us.'

On the way back, she said, "You are young and smart, but need life experience. I don't want us falling in love and closing off opportunities for you. What if we design some sort of business partnership? I think Philip held onto his houses when he moved. I know he did with the York place. It is let to a couple at the university. I'd like to move from here, the memories are hard on me."

He walked hand in hand with her the rest of the way back, silently dissecting her suggestions.

Finally, he said, "I am ok with moving, although we should keep this house. It is a fine part of England and we may end up wanting to be back here some day. Being your business partner is great, especially if we get to settle arguments in bed. As for relationships, I am already in love with you, so you are not permitted to unlove me."

At the front door, he turned and bestowed a long kiss that went through both of them. She led the way into the house and delivered the grocery bags to the kitchen. Taking two beers, they went to Philip's office, whose tidiness reflected its owner.

"He was private and secretive. I was never invited to join him here. Never got beyond the doorway, calling him for meals."

Adrian said, "Not likely we will get a full story in his office papers, but maybe some clues to other places and secrets."

They found a metal file container in his closet full of financial records and several pass books. In one of the folders was an envelope marked, "In the event of my death." Inside were a simple will and a brief handwritten note acknowledging that if they were reading it, he was dead, and apologizing for his lack of family love. Cryptic, just like Philip. The will, dated and witnessed two years previously, left everything in equal shares to the two of them and identified an executor at a law firm in London.

This diminished their need for digging through the rest of the papers. She walked back to the living room and pushed him down on the sofa. Sitting on his knees, sipping her beer, she unbuttoned the pretty blouse. Underneath was an expensive lacy bra, from Paris no doubt, that beautifully framed her striking breasts. A flip of her fingers and the cups were hanging loosely.

"Why did I get to hold these last night?"

"I was kidding around with myself that I just needed you to warm me up. I got in there and felt your heat, and felt you poking my behind, and I knew my problem was missing a man. I did what I did with Philip when I was needy, gave him a boob to get him excited."

"But you went back to sleep. I lay there for a long time trying to figure out what we should do."

She leaned over and kissed him, her breasts hanging down.

"You were so sweet not to attack me right then. I would have deserved it. Naked women don't climb in a man's bed without expecting some reaction." She laughed and giggled at him.

He kissed her lightly, caressed the hard tips of her tits, and asked, "Do I get more privileges tonight?"

"Only if I get to nap with you here. I am feeling so much better. And not just because I got good sex this morning."

The twilight was deepening when they wandered to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He took on the man's job of fixing drinks. He put the scotch bottle and the tequila bottle on the counter and glanced at her.

"Tequila and orange juice and soda, please."

He fixed that and poured himself a short tumbler of Philip's expensive single malt scotch.

They tipped glasses and had their separate thoughts about where two survivors went after a family disaster.

He asked, "What is our money situation?"

She looked at him and smiled. "That is mostly a mystery. He gave me a generous house account and had everything else taken care of by a bank in London. Someone there makes sure the mortgages are done, and all the other bills and taxes covered."

"He was the same with me. The school gets paid directly from his bank. I have a checking account that gets a hundred pounds a month. He told me there would be more when I was not incarcerated behind high walls."

She browned the roast and he cut up vegetables and potatoes. "Salad?" she asked.

"Yes, please. School beat nutrition into us."

They sat side by side at the kitchen table, heads together. He put her hand down on the table surface and covered it with his. "I've never imagined how it would be like with a girlfriend, you know. Will you teach me? The relationship part, not just the sex."

"Adrian, you are growing on me already. I think what I said outside is nonsense, isn't it?"

He licked her ear and kissed her cheek. Very softly, "Yes." His arms went around her and they rocked gently.

She served and asked if he wanted a tray so they could watch the tv.

He did and found some red wine to go with the meat. The news was stupid, as always, and they switched to a mystery about the Elizabethans, where some duke was after another duke for stealing his betrothed.

She knocked his head around, laughing. "You see, it can be dangerous romancing pretty women!"

He put the trays on the coffee table and pulled her into his lap. "You said you've been watching me get hard around you. Well, I am. What are we going to do about it?"

She was kissing him again and his hands were investigating under her skirt. He discovered that her briefs were missing and the warm flesh intoxicating. She jumped as his fingers ran up and down her moist crease. He mumbled, "It's nice to have a girlfriend who is available and interested..."

"This is not right. I am supposed to be playing hard to get. Telling you to get your hand out of my bottom. Saying we don't know each other well enough for that."

He had her in his arms, striding down the hall to her bedroom. She slipped out of her clothes and flopped herself on the unmade bed on her back. Gazed at him with sultry eyes that widened as his large and erect cock came into view. He stood fisting himself and examining the intimate details of his father's mistress, for whom he was now responsible.

"You haven't had many chances to see a naked girl up close, have you?" She was smiling and lasciviously flexing her hips up at him. She was 5-7 or so, with long dancer's legs. The fur between her legs was well trimmed and her sex was plump and open to him.

"No chances. You are beautiful. This needs to be in there again." He stroked slowly, not wanting another too soon accident.

She pulled her knees up and asked, "Are you going to use your tongue on me? Girls like that, if you do it right."

He stuck his tongue at her as far as it would go. "Yes, that will do nicely. Come here." As he approached, she handed up a pillow and raised herself. He knew his mouth belonged in that perfectly positioned pussy and plunged forward, leading with his tongue.

"Hmm. Keep that up. Yes, more. Use your fingers in me."

He did that for several minutes while she talked dirty to him and got wilder and wilder in the arms wrapped around her legs. "Ah god, Adrian, I'm coming!" She shook and shuddered on him for minutes.

Her open eyes gestured for his cock. It was incredibly hard after the oral sex. She was wet and ready for his hard shaft. They collided explosively. He bottomed and she moaned and twisted under him, feeling the rigid cock remake her insides to his great dimensions.

His mouth covered hers, choking off moans as she thrashed to a hard climax and his young cock filled her again.

They woke later, needing to clean up. Drying after the shower, she said, "I don't feel guilty."