He Was To Be Unavoidably Detained

Martha always enjoyed her days in London, especially when David asked her if she would like to spend some time there while he was away on business. Before the trip, if David gave sufficient notice of it, she'd go on a diet and plan her stay down to the last detail. She always wanted to look her best when she went away with him.

The arrangement, as before when he asked it of her, was that they would drive down, settle in, take in a show, and have a day together in a hotel overlooking Hyde Park, and he would then leave for his trip, usually taking an evening flight. Upon his return, they would spend another day or two 'in town' before going home to their place in Norfolk.

The added bonus for Martha, and often David too, was that she could see her grandchildren. But, she always resolved not to overdo it, not because of her not being the mothering sort, but simply that it was all too much for David, the shopping, glamming up for a show or ballet, and the rest of it. She preferred to look on her stay in London as a treat, a minibreak, and David agreed simply to humour her.

Because of that attitude, which he did little to moderate, she also wanted time to herself; to be indulged and pampered in the hotel's sauna and there to enjoy a massage; to be soothed by having warm oils smoothed into her skin and to feel the languorous pleasure that could bestow upon her. That way, Martha thought, she could look on her stay as a diversion from the loneliness she often felt when at home and David was away overseas on a business trip that he rarely spoke of upon his return.

The Civil Service still had a use for him; called David in when there was a particularly tricky matter to deal with. The task was never dangerous, or so risky, that it put his life in danger. It was work that required his diplomatic and negotiating skills.

She had learnt a trick or two from David in those ways of it. The talks always came down to bartering, something in exchange for another. That way, no one lost face and each party believed that they had won.

So it was that, in early June, she found herself in London once more and in the same plush hotel, feeling happy and energised. David had given her some notice of a 'possible' trip. A provisional booking of the hotel had been converted into a certain one, and something of a crash diet had been rigorously pursued so that she had even been able to wear again, comfortably, some of her favourite clothes, items that she had kept, just in case age and nature were kind to her.

'What shall I bring back?' David asked of her as he made to leave for the airport.

'Oh, I don't know, surprise me,' she sighed, looking at him fondly as she adjusted his tie. 'Aren't you a bit over-dressed for the flight?'

David shrugged. 'You know me...'

She did, her husband never could get used to the 'slovenly' ways of the age. 'Where are you going to, remind me?'

'Oz then Singapore...it's a bit of a trek. But, someone's got to do it.' David brushed back his thinning grey hair and studied his lined, lean face in the mirror. 'Well?'

'Well, I've always wanted a few opal beads that I could string onto a gold necklace. I could have one made up.'

'Not here, in London, you won't. It would be far too dear. Besides, white gold might be better with them.'

Martha smiled, just to please him. 'Well, we can decide on it together when you come back...with the opals.'

'I'll do my best for you. Now, I'd better get going.' David kissed her in his rather perfunctory, but kindly, way of it.

'I'll be here, darling, when you return. I'll try not to overdo things.'

'And mind our things, won't you?' he said in a distracted tone as he took one last look around their room. 'Enjoy yourself and don't spend too much will you?'

He grinned, knowing that request might well fall on deaf ears.

'Yes, now off you go.'

Martha followed him to the elevators and waited until the doors closed him off from her view.

Yippee, now for the shops!

She skipped down the corridor and back to their suite, the electronic fob soon making the light on the lock glow green before she pushed open the door. It would be a good time of day to try and strike a bargain, the shop attendants might be having a slow time of it and might cut her a better deal than they might have done earlier. She could indulge herself without being too extravagant.

She might even fit into some of the clothes that she had tracked down on the internet. Her diet and some exercise had toned her body wonderfully; her white, blonde hair shone with good health and hung to her shoulders. Her blouses fitted neatly across her full but somewhat sagging breasts and her slacks didn't pinch at her waist. Pleased as she was with how she looked, she could not deny that she was becoming scrawny, her arms thin and lacking the tone of her younger years. Still, her slacks flattered her thighs and, to David's ways of seeing them, her bum cheeks. Furthermore, she felt that she could walk comfortably in her low-heeled shoes, their straps no hindrance and not digging into her skin. A dab of powder to her pronounced cheekbones, and the wipe of a tissue over her full, lightly rouged, lips was enough to satisfy her.

The door was closed and the key fob was put back into her small clutch bag. It, along with a silken colourful scarf, was put in a stylish tote bag that she slung casually over one shoulder.

She groaned, inwardly, as the lift descended. Just where was she to start? Did she have time? An old school friend would call by for a drink and maybe to share a light supper in the hotel's bistro. Until then, the rest of the day was for her to enjoy.

She would be alone for much of the time but would not miss David too much. There were enough distractions to be found -- somehow and somewhere. Her David always seemed to be a different man after his trips. It was as if he had been recognized as someone of value, again.

It was what she took from these trips away also. She looked upon them as a holiday and felt rejuvenated by them, ready to face again the quieter ways of a rural life.

'Jenny!' she cried out on hearing her friend's cultured voice.

'Martha, I'm...I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to see you tonight or this evening.'

'Oh, that's a shame...I was looking forward to meeting up with you again.'

Martha cursed. She had been caught out in the rain and very few taxis seemed to be about or available to be flagged down. With her bags of purchases, in hand, she had been in a hurry to get back to the hotel.

'Yes, I know. I wondered if Friday would be of any use to you. I know you're here for a few days?'

Martha thought quickly.

'Yes, that would be okay. Oh! Wait...' Martha thought about it some more and scrabbled in her handbag for her iPhone to check things out. 'If you could make it for lunch then it's fine. My David's coming back that day but won't be with me until after four...'

She heard Jenny laugh in that way of hers. 'Great! I'll see you at twelve!'

'Yes, until then...bye!'

A taxi finally drew up and she gave the driver the details of the hotel. An emptier evening seemed to be stretching out before her, but a late booking theatre ticket site might be the answer to that.

♥

It was still rush hour and the traffic was heavy and slow-moving in the downpour. It beat a rhythm on the roof and Martha met the taxi driver's look as he cursed. He had also glanced her way in the rearview mirror and shrugged.

'It's okay, it can't be far.'

'No love it's not, and it's not getting any easier even when the weather's fine. Too many people and not enough space is what I reckon is the problem.'

'That's true.' She wasn't going to debate the point and held the bags a little tighter by their thin, stringy handles.

One of them contained a racy, see-through nightie. She'd bought it on a whim and had thought to treat herself. She could still pass herself off as the attractive older woman, even for a fifty-five-year-old married to a man of sixty.

The taxi driver dodged and weaved and soon slewed to a stop in front of the hotel. The doorman stepped out to meet her, a large umbrella shielding her from the deluge.

'Keep the change!' she told the diver and rushed away.

'Ta missus!'

'Phew! I'm glad you were there to meet me,' she laughed at the man before she scurried into the lift lobby and pushed the call button.

What now? She took to thinking of the evening ahead. A swim and then maybe a supper...or...try a theatre...see if there was anything worth rushing out for again and into that rain.

Martha fumbled for her door fob as she drew near to the room. Only...only...she noticed that the door was unlocked, just pushed to as if to give the appearance of being shut. She had seen a housekeeper's trolley at the far end of the corridor but thought nothing of it.

She peered through the crack and saw a shadow moving across the wall, cast by the lights from outside and below in the street. She saw a man's tall, slender figure in a white shirt and black trousers; a duster and bucket in hand. But he was more interested in what he took up from the bedside table...on her side of the large bed with its ornate headboard.

Martha put her hand to her throat. Damn, she'd not put on her gold chain and locket, nor her engraved gold and white gold filigree bracelet. How could she have been so careless after David had cautioned her? The rush to be in the shops was quite forgotten now.

The man took up the items and shoved them deep into the bucket before he piled some cleaning cloths over them.

'What do you think you're doing? Thief!' she cried out from the doorway before it was kicked shut behind her.

The man looked round sharply before he met the blows of a bag to his outstretched arms and hands. He soon dodged away to avoid further blows and saw that the door had already been closed behind the woman. Who would hear her?

'You stupid to leave them there...' he said in a deep and challenging tone of voice

Martha heard the Spanish intonation and was disconcerted on seeing his sullen good looks and the dart of his eyes over her, given the circumstances.

'That's no excuse!' she hissed, even as she realised the truth of what he had told her. She looked at him and met the impudent man's continued appraising glances upon her. 'Take them out of the bucket, what you have stolen from me! My husband warned me that this could happen.'

'He knows about these things, then, señora?'

'He certainly does not! Now, give me back my jewellery!' she demanded and held out her hand. She saw it tremble. The young man's eyes remained upon her and she could not keep from meeting that look.

'And then I go?' he asked, standing closer, as if to intimidate her. 'You...you won't report me to anyone, will you? You have lost nothing, señora.'

His command of English was surprisingly good.

Martha took the items from him and felt the lightest of touches to her hand as she did so. It felt like a soft caress, a means to win her forgiveness, and she looked up sharply at him; her senses suddenly alerted to what he might yet choose to do, to persuade her not to report him.

'What's your name, tell me?'

'Does that matter?' he asked, pushing a hand through the mass of unkempt dark hair and holding her gaze upon him. 'I have done what you asked so there is no loss to you, señora.'

He made to push past her but Martha instinctively, stupidly, put a restraining hand to his arm. 'Your name, just give me your name!'

'Andrés! Now I will go and I leave you.'

'I haven't answered your question, Andrés,' Martha now said in a softer, conciliatory tone, 'whether I will report this, or not...have I?' She kicked off her shoes and placed the bags of shopping on the small chair set by the dressing table and turned to him once more. She had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and the reflection of Andrés, still looking at her hinting at what might be at work in him.

It was crazy, utterly bizarre, but an idea was forming even as she saw him draw near once more.

'I am sorry for what I did, señora...but...but I have only just got my work permit and I am allowed to stay here. There is nothing for me in Spain. You will understand, I hope, and not take more revenge on me.'

'I know as I do read the newspapers and see it on the news. So why put it all at risk?'

He gave a phlegmatic shrug.

'Then...maybe there is a way for me to say...or show you...that I am sorry and that you will not report me?'

Don't....don't! This is crazy!' she whispered as Andrés touched her cheek with the lightest slip of his fingers to her face. 'Haven't you got work to do?'

'I finish soon,' he said looking at his watch. 'It is now. I was here to bring a bottle of champagne up to your room and put it in the frigador. I work in the bar and the restaurant...your husband order it.'

'Good of him but I'd be drinking it on my own...'

She had yet to go there, to the lavishly furnished and decorated cocktail bar. If what he had told her was true she would have seen Andrés, the good-looking young man coming on to her now. It was crazy, yet she sensed that her resolve was slipping away on account of his looks and touches upon her. What madness...but what a change from prosaic ways of life in Norwich! It was one of the reasons to be in London, to live it all out and to do so differently.

The chance to do that had arisen, even for her.

'A beautiful woman like you should not do that, drink on your own,' he murmured, his arm now encircling her waist to draw Martha to him.

'What do you think you're doing?"

She clutched at his hand, fiercely, but she could not suppress a sudden surge of longing aroused by the slow touches to her body through the slightly damp fabric of her blouse. She hadn't escaped the effects of the deluge completely.

'We...we share in a favour, señora. I would like that and maybe you would as well.'

'Oh sure,' she said, quivering nonetheless as his fingers brushed the front of her blouse, lightly. 'Just like that...we share in this or what you now want from me or want to do with me.'

She sought to pull away but Andrés detained her. 'If we do not reach an understanding señora...and you report me...it will be difficult for me...muy difficile...me entiendes?'

Martha wavered and understood only too well what he was suggesting to her.

She took the necklace and made to fasten it at her throat, loosening a button of her blouse to see that the pendant was placed at her cleavage. As she looked up she met his wondering smile once more and gave voice to what they both sought of the other.

'Do what you have to and finish with your work, Andrés. Then you may....then you should....'

'Then I come back to you, here?' Andrés tilted his head enquiringly, as he stood before her and offered a light caress of his fingertips to her face before his hands moved over the swell in her blouse and onto her hips to draw her to him. 'We forget everything else señora...and after that...everything is forgotten, si?'

'Si...si!' She met his kisses and fell into his tightening embrace upon her. She felt the wash of unbridled longing course through her body, the gnaw of longing in her belly. This was crazy! So impetuous and unexpectedly crazy to be succumbing to him and at her suggestion as a means to make good what she had caught him doing! 'Be quick...and come back to me, Andrés. Be quick, before I change my mind.'

'You...you wouldn't be so cruel, señora, would you?' he murmured on breaking free of her claims upon him. 'Fifteen minutes and I will be with you.'

'No, I wouldn't be so cruel.'

Martha knew it too, and that her anger had simply fallen away. She had retrieved her jewellery and soon she would lose any sense of restraint and do that in his arms and be taken to bed.

She pushed the door shut and chained it. He would have to knock to gain entry. Everything else would be there for him to take, and for her to enjoy the claims of another and much younger man on her body.

'Just a minute,' she called out. Martha rushed to the door and saw him through the tiny spy hole; Andrés, a waiter, simply standing there, a soft smile creasing his lips.

She felt weak with longing even as she in the grip of a guilty conscience provoked by what she wanted from him. She would be turning over settled ways as if in the blink of an eye upon him, and all because she had not the heart, or the courage, to report him and all that would flow from that.

'Come in, be quick,' she urged and closed the door behind him.

'Aieee, tan belleza...what beauty,' he murmured as Martha held out her hands to him. Andrés gripped them; and saw how the short-hemmed nightdress clung to her body and revealed all that she could bring to his gaze and, now, to his seducing touch and caresses.

'You asked for room service, señora,.' he murmured, his hands and fingers caressing her naked skin under the flimsy nightdress.

'And what is that to be, I wonder?'

Martha couldn't help but laugh as she watched him undress before her and noted how tall and lean he was, the ripple of the muscles in his chest and belly. Here was, Andrés with his youthfulness and obvious vitality, along with all that he would soon bring to her and that she would know of.

'Come to me and settle the claim I have, but in your ways of it, please?' Martha asked. What had been a feckless idea, when she had seen him with her possessions, was now to become a distracting reality. She would be humped by a young man, by a generously endowed and much younger man. 'I'm...I'm not joking, I promise...when I say come to me.'

He sensed that she was struggling to find just the right words to explain what she wanted from him.

'So, no more talk.'

'Si, no more talk.'

Andrés gazed into her eyes, and she into his, and on a moan they crushed their hungry lips on each other's mouths.

'Madness...madness!' she gasped as he pulled her nightdress over her head, and soon entwined her fingers in his hair to guide his kisses to her enervated skin. She was in shock at her brazen behaviour and the fevered clamp of her hands on him; her touches eliciting soft gasps of his breath.

'I want to fuck with you, believe me,' he told her.

'I know! I can feel that!'

She held his head and guided him to her, watched in wondering anxiety what he would do as his tongue traced a slow and tantalising path over her skin, down over her belly as she felt his hands push her legs apart. He placed soft lambent kisses on her trembling thighs and probed into her with his fingers before his tongue slicked a path over her vaginal lips, his tongue flickering and probing before poking into her.

She shuddered in response to these practised ways, the older woman being eaten out by a hungry young lover as she stood over him, her hands in his hair and guiding him. She was being shackled to his raging lust, her satisfaction the ultimate goal and his reprieve.

'Madness...madness...that I should do this!' she cried out; shuddering as she failed to conceal the rush of fulfilment that coursed through her body, the gush of wetness that his tongue aroused as it slicked over her pussy's lips and into her. She pushed her body forward to meet his claims upon her and groaned as she succumbed to the cramp of her orgasm. 'I want more so take me to bed...find me on the bed, please!'

Martha clung to him as they took faltering steps towards it. She felt him pull away the heavy silk coverlet, all the while placing kisses on her in acts of unrelenting homage and pursuit of his satisfaction.

'You do it for me too, señora'

Martha looked up at the ceiling and gave a deep laugh of satisfaction. 'Martha...you may call me Martha...but...but don't stop! Your debt is not fully repaid, not yet!'