Impact 18: of The Bull

I don't wait for the water to warm up and the cold water does me good. I drink greedily from the spray, suddenly aware of how thirsty I am.

Drying off I step out of the bathroom. Claire is still sound asleep and doesn't stir as I change into the high waisted short-shorts Claire had loaned me the day before, and a little baby-t of hers that is way too tight. I decide to wear her sun hat and glasses as well, but trade the little leather flats for a pair of her sandals that have a heel.

'Lolita,' I think, looking in the mirror and doing a flawless James Mason... in my mind. I'm pleased with what I see and hope Helen will be too.

I am glad my crush on Helen doesn't make Claire jealous. She had teased me about it at Kip's, and later while she was fucking me.

"You're thinking of her," she had said as she rolled me onto my belly, and she was right. She had caught my glancing out the window.

"I was just wondering if she was watching. If she can see," I admitted, keeping my breasts pressed against the mattress, but lifting my ass and spreading my knees wide. Claire had been up on her knees, stroking The Bull in her fist, lubing it, but she lay across my back as she prepared to enter me from behind. She let me take her weight, as she positioned The Bull at my entrance. But first she played with it, smearing the lubed head over my clit. Her mouth by my ear, her breath short with excitement, mine labored with the effort of raising and lowering her weight, but also I was still recovering from my most recent orgasm, stunned by how powerful it had been - was that when I had cried?

I felt Claire overshoot her target, pressing the pointed silicone head against my asshole.

"No," I pleaded. "It's too big Claire, please no!"

After hesitating and pushing The Bull against my back door, for what felt like a very long time, before sliding it back down and burying it in me with one smooth motion.

"AH FUC-"

"...but I am going to peg my baby," she'd promised as she began to hump me from behind.

I am standing over Claire. She is still on her belly snoring quietly, The Bull is on the comforter, near her feet. I pick it up and pull the flat sheet up over her shoulders. Going back to the bathroom I spend a moment washing The Bull in the sink. It's big enough that the task is a bit awkward in the little oval basin, but I'm able to get both its parts soaped up. Pumping the fallopian phallus clean I wonder what it would feel like inside me, what it would feel like to fuck Claire with The Bull, the idea of holding her down and shoving it in her ass, of pegging her, excites me.

"Chevillage," I say, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, the big alien looking double-cock in my hand. I almost drop it, trying to rinse the suds in the tight space beneath the spigot. My hands are shaking.

"Who do you think you're kidding, Sarah Beth?" I ask my reflection. "You are the wife."

I wonder what it will feel like to have The Bull in my ass, to be fucked in the ass with it. I think of how long and hard Claire had fucked me, how tireless she was, try and imagine if it was my asshole.

"Would you consider leaving the Times?"

Helen's question takes me by surprise. Brunch was fun. A little flirty but we didn't talk about sex. After she was done complimenting me on my red hair, we talked about my dad's death. I told her about the funeral and Claire coming. I got a little choked up but I didn't cry. And Helen opened up about herself, telling me about her life, her career and her travels, about her marriage. And I surprised myself by talking to her about my life, about Keith and Ben, my mother, Wes and Kelly, about Buffalo and how hard I worked to escape and how guilty it makes me feel to have escaped it.

Still her question throws me off. It's a bit of a non sequitur.

"Leave the Times?" I ask, confused.

"Mmm," she says, sipping her tea. "Would you leave New York - for work?"

"I never-"

"One of the fashion houses I work with - have worked with almost my entire adult life - is owned by a Dutch company, family controlled. I've told them about you, about your work."

"Oh."

"They want to meet you... he wants to meet with you; Henk - the patriarch if you will."

"Patriarch of what? Meet me for what?"

"Look Sarah. I know this is unexpected, and that we don't know each other very well... yet. These are very serious people and this is a serious offer."

She pulls a business card from her purse and slides it across the table to me. It's very thick with lacquered edges. It has Henk's full name on it, a European phone number and a New York number. The only other thing printed on the card are the words, FAMILY OFFICE.

"They want to make an offer," I ask, "and all they know is..."

"InfoPorn and your work at the Times - look, before you ask, their interest in "Big Data" is well outside my remit, and not something that would have caught my ear before I met you, but when it came and I told Henk about you..."

"But I'm just someone random you met at a bar?"

"A bit more than that, I like to think. You are someone I've taken a great deal of interest in, and whom I've... researched."

I think she was going to say "watched" but decided against it. Still she gives me a knowing smile.

"But listen, all I've told Henk is about your public profile, but I'm sure he's done his own research - and Henk is far more thorough in these sorts of things than I am, and has greater means. The point is he very much likes what he's learned."

"I'm not sure what to say."

"Say you will meet with him - this week I'm afraid... I know this is sudden, but I promise it's worth your time. He starts early. If you can, I'll make a breakfast date for you to meet him this week. Will you do that?"

"You asked about leaving New York?"

"Henk is here this week, but the job is in Amsterdam."

"Oh."

"These are serious people with very deep pockets, Sarah."

Claire is right where I left her, still face down. Part of me wants to sneak back out and let her sleep. But her jet lag was so bad, and I don't want her to get thrown back off now by letting her sleep all day. I decide to wake her.

I pull out the breakfast tray I'd spotted folded away on a deep narrow shelf beside the fridge. Opening it I place it on the island and set it with a porcelain plate, linen napkin, and flatware. I transfer the ice coffee I got into a pint glass and pour her a wine glass of juice. Up above the sink there's a miscellany-shelf of glassware. I choose a vase for the flowers, and put them out on the island. But I save out a small tulip, its bloom still tightly closed, and place it on the trey in a tiny bud vase I found among the full sized vases.

I had asked the guy at the bodega to wrap her already foil-wrapped egg and cheese in paper towels, to keep it hot, and it's still warm when I plate it.

"Good morning..." I sing softly as I step up to her side of the bed.

"Nooooo...." she moans into her pillow.

"I have Tylenol..." I sing gently.

"Mmmnnnn..." she moans back.

"And ice coffee..." I sing. "From Blue Bottle!"

""Really?" she asks. Her voice, muffled by the pillow.

"...and egg sammy."

"Shammy?" she asks, finally lifting her head, eyes still closed and face marked by lines of laying unmoving on her pillow for so long.

"Oh baby," I murmur. "Sit up and let me take care of you.

There are so many times I hear my mother's voice come out of my mouth, but usually it's when I'm upset - angry or scared. But this voice, this comforting and gentle voice is Amelia. It's coming from some deep place in me; a memory of being picked up and held. I wish I could hold Claire in my arms right now, that I could protect her from anything that might harm her or hurt her, even me.

The end draws nigh... but still a chapter or two away. Thanks again for reading, for supporting these stories, and helping others find them, with your ratings and comments.

I hope everyone is having a lovely summer (or winter).

XOSNS