Spies and Lovers Ch. 01

Helena could feel his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her coat and then, deliciously, the buttons of the jacket beneath it. The kiss hadn't faltered at all as he slid his hand under her hair along the side of her neck and then beneath the curve of her breast. She was sure he could feel the breakneck beating of her heart. She thought she could hear it -- either that or the rain was producing a most peculiar series of echoes. She was frightened that someone would walk by and at the same time wallowed in every sensation. These were sensations she'd always wanted to experience but seldom had. Even when she did, it had been in fits and starts and frustratingly incomplete portions. Never enough to want to keep someone around for long. Why now? With someone too young and otherwise inappropriate? And why should Tom volunteer for something this insane and dangerous? A distant rational impulse suggested that he'd only made the promise to get her into bed. But she couldn't make herself believe that. It was, literally, impossible not to trust him.

Helena made a brief effort to distrust, and failed abysmally. Then her body drew her mind back into Tom's orbit and she fell completely under the spell of his mouth, his hands, the other parts of him pressing more and more urgently against her.

She grabbed the lapels of his coat. "Take me somewhere," she whispered against his mouth, "take me somewhere dry where we can continue this... discussion... without risking pneumonia." His chuckle was a little ragged, but quite sincere. He dipped down and kissed her again, hard and fast, put his arm around her waist, and struck off down the street. She had to trot to keep up. Damned shoes.

"Three blocks," he said.

"Give me your hat," she demanded. "Three blocks is too much for my hair. Unless you want to see a drowned rat at the end of journey." She appropriated the hat and managed to tuck most of her hair under it. Good thing, too. The three blocks were really five. There should be an investigation into the motives of women's shoe manufacturers, she reflected. With a firing squad at the end of the story. Finally.

It was a second story walk up. The narrow staircase was dark. Tom kicked mail that had been pushed through the slot in the door aside as you led the way upstairs. Another door. He moved through the darkness and found a light switch and Helena was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't neat, exactly, but it was attractive. A couple of red and blue and gold oriental carpets covered a dark wood floor. There was a large couch with curved arms covered with some kind of oriental brocade and a couple of stained glass floor lamps. Books, floor to ceiling. She struggled out of her coat and left it dripping on the floor. Just as she reflected that they had similar tastes, Tom swept her up in your arms and carried her to the couch, which she immediately apprehended was even larger than she had at first supposed.

He lowered her to the couch. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, damp and slightly tangled. There was still moisture glistening on her lips and eyelashes. She reached down and untucked her blouse, but his hand stopped her.

"I want you to understand something first," he told her, and he saw the worried look in her eyes. "This isn't going to change anything. I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I walked into your office."

She blushed slightly, and the color rising in her cheeks made him want her even more.

"I know this is sudden and probably seems impetuous and foolish, but I'm ready to go wherever fate takes us." She was still looking at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Steeling his nerves, Tom said what was on his mind. His hand was resting on hers, which was still holding her blouse, resting on her stomach.

He looked into her eyes and took a deep breath. His voice quivered slightly.

"I think ... I mean, I AM in love with you," and suddenly words came tumbling out. "I don't know why. I know it's foolish because we've only known each other for a few hours. You don't really know anything about me and I don't know anything about you. You probably think I'm crazy. Heck, I think I'm probably crazy, but I just know that I love you and I want to go to the ends of the earth and back with you and whatever happens happens, you know. It's just sort of ..."

She sat up, putting her arms around his neck and silenced him with a passionate kiss. He felt her fingers in his hair, holding his face to hers and he responded, slipping his hand under her blouse and feeling the cool, soft skin of her stomach. She gasped slightly, a small intake of breath that she pulled from his mouth. It felt as though she were taking a bit of his soul and he gave it to her willingly.

Tom stood up and started to unbutton his shirt and Helena slid from the couch onto her knees in front of him, reaching for his belt. She began to unbuckle it and suddenly he had trouble even working something as simple as a button. He managed to get his shirt buttons undone and started to slip out of what was once a crisply starched white shirt but had since become an almost translucent mess from the rain.

Helena's hands unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. He felt her pull his trousers down as well, her hands dragging down the sides of his thighs. Then she reached up and he felt her hands on his chest as she moved forward. He stood there in his boxer shorts, his arousal obvious through the thin fabric.

Her hands slid up Tom's chest and around his sides, pulling him to her gently and he felt her mouth against him. Through the cloth of his boxer shorts, he felt the heat of her mouth against his throbbing erection. She exhaled and he felt vibrations as she moaned softly, feeling him pulse against her lips.

Hooking her thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, she slipped them down and his shaft sprangs into view, the head swollen and red, inches from her face. Her hands slid his shorts down and he stood there with his shoes still on, his pants and shorts down around his ankles and he felt her engulf me in her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue slid along the tender underside of the shaft teasingly slow, as though she were savoring every ridge and vein.

"Oh my god," he managed to mumble, and reached down to lift her by her shoulders back up onto the couch.

He tried to finish unfastening Helena's blouse and found himself fumbling helplessly with the buttons. Placing a hand on either side of the collar, he pulled the two sides apart. Buttons popped and he heard them clatter against the floor on the other side of the room as he ripped her shirt apart, pulling it off. Her bra followed as he pulled it over her head, too impatient to figure out the clasp.

He reached behind her and unclasped her skirt and she lifted her hips and allowed him to slide it down her legs. When the waistband reached her toes, she gave a deft kick of one leg and slung the fabric off into the corner.

Now, she sat before him in only panties, garter belt and stockings. Tom pushed her back onto the couch. He kicked off his shoes and pants and crawled up onto the couch with her. Putting his knee between her legs, he urged them apart and put himself between them, bringing his body down on top of hers.

Helena felt him pressing against her through the thin silk of her panties and he felt her shiver. "Rip them," she said in a hoarse whisper. He reached down and, in one fluid motion, tore them off, leaving her completely exposed to him. She felt him, throbbing, against her. Her moistness betrayed her. He could feel her body opening up to him, wanting him, needing him inside her.

Tom reached down and guided himself in, gently pressing himself between her lips and into her soft, warm depths.

As he penetrated her, the pleasure washed over her in a wave so completely overwhelming that she could hear the air expelled from her lungs come out in something louder than a moan. And now he was moving. And she was going crazy. And it was almost -- no, it was just impossible, embarrassingly impossible to stay quiet. She had no restraint left.

And Tom was REALLY enjoying her loss of control, aiming in exactly the --oh -- exactly the right place to keep her reaction going. The cocky grin was certainly back. He raised himself a little on his elbows and grinned down at her, raising an eyebrow, keeping the motion steady, keeping her absolutely beside herself.

"You like that?"

She tried to ignore the question.

"You like that, don't you?"

He punctuated the question with a particularly acute thrust. She moaned.

"Tell me."

Oh Jesus. "I love that. Oh God. Do it some more."

He laughed. And did it some more. She could only hope that no one was home down below.

But he couldn't have it all his own way. Helena levered her leg over to the side and rolled strategically. Hah! She'd managed to get on top and she hadn't even knocked them off the couch. Though on reflection, it was kind of a near thing. His hands moved around her waist and then down to cup her ass and stoke her thighs above the tops of the stockings. Ooh. She loved feeling him so deep inside her. She begin to move, rubbing herself against him, breathing hard, breathing harder, gasping, propped up on her arms, brushing his face and chest with her hair. The orgasm ripped through her with the force of a tsunami. She thought she heard herself shout, and then he was kissing her urgently, whispering words she couldn't quite make out into her mouth, rolling her beneath him. Evidently, they weren't anywhere near finished.

"That's it," he growled into her mouth. "Let me hear you. I don't care who else hears."

He knew the conventional wisdom and medical science would say there was probably something wrong with any woman who enjoyed sex this much, but he loved it. He loved the feel of her fingernails digging into his shoulders. I felt her arch her back and for a moment, he was sure she was going to bite his tongue, but he loved it.

He loved slamming himself into her with such force that it knocked some of her breath out and jerked the couch an inch or so along the floor. He felt her tilt her hips and then he was hitting something deep inside her that threatened to send him to join her in orgasm. He wasn't ready yet, though. He pulled back from her a little, gritted his teeth and stared into your eyes. She stared back at him, defiant, almost challenging him to give her his best. He began to move, a pounding rhythm that was almost savage in its intensity. He started to grunt and sweat and he hear her voice, as though far away.

"Give it to me," she told him through clenched teeth, "Yes."

He felt her wrap her legs around him, her heels digging into his ass as she tried to pull him deeper. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up off the couch, leaning over, tasting the rivulets of sweat trickling down his neck and chest. He felt her teeth gently nip at his skin and the muscles in his neck stood out like steel cables stretched to the breaking point. His pulse pounded in his head and his lungs burned as he gasped for breath. He supported her weight almost effortlessly. Her arms and legs around him carried most of her weight, but left her swaying, almost like a pendulum as their hips met with each stroke.

Her words and her body were milking the orgasm from him. He felt his nerve endings tingle as her muscles contracted around him. He felt her tongue on his skin and he heard her voice in his ear, telling him to how she wanted to feel his orgasm erupt inside her.

Suddenly, with a low groan that sounded more like a muted roar than anything else, he sat back, taking her with him. Sitting up, holding her tight against him, He impaling her on his raging erection in a single stroke. Just as he began to come, his body went rigid and his muscles and nerve endings screamed as the feeling began at his toes and rushed through him like a geyser building pressure until it burst and he felt every emotion and feeling and thought in his body coursing into her as she drained him.

She sat on his lap as he shuddered and shook in the throes of a massive orgasm, brushing the hair from his forehead and lightly kissing his neck. Her fingernails traced slow languid swirls over his back as she wait for him to relax.

Slowly, his hold on you loosened. He could see the blanched white fingermarks around her waist where he'de held her so solidly.

He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No, but your neighbors probably thought you were killing me," she responded with a grin.

"Ah well. They needed some excitement anyway," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly.

Helena stretched her body beside Tom's and leaned her head on his shouder. "I think I love you."

"You think?"

"Well, the thinking part isn't working too well at the moment, having been comepletely vanquished by feeling. As far as I can tell, yes I do. But at the moment the cognitive apparatus is broken."

"Nonsense."

"You'll have to lead me around by the hand and pretend I'm your simple minded relative who has to be watched lest she..."

"Hmmm. One of those women with a mania for sex."

"That's it. My true nature is revealed. I will never be able to harbor two consecutive thoughts without the intervention of---"

His fingers were inside her. She was distracted. He was establishing the point in record time. When he leaned over to kiss her, she was well and truly lost.