The Chasm and The Bridge Ch. 03

With that she quickly slipped inside and closed the door. As she suggested he used the time to strip, unceremoniously and with no concern for where his clothes ended up.

When he entered their room, naked, Julie was standing where she was lit by the light coming in through the window. Her hair was still delightfully tangled in that way that most men love. She was wearing thigh-high white stockings with lacy tops. And nothing else.

"I am wearing stockings for you darling. Do you like them?" Julie said and gave him a coquettish grin.

Then she saw his erection and said,

"I guess that answers my question."

She then surprised Jake by sauntering towards him and without hesitation kneeling, taking hold of his cock and placing her lips around the tip while gazing up at him with a look of adoration that was both play-acting and at the same time utterly real.

Jake strangled at birth the slightest hint of a reaction from the old Jake, who would have been unable to believe that she would really want to do this. It was his right and he would accept this gift from his wife.

Julie found that she revelled in the act. How had she never realised that she could feel so powerful on her knees, worshipping her man's cock and being the sole source of his pleasure? When he came, so much faster than she could ever remember, and he was unable to suppress a loud groan of ecstasy before emptying himself into her greedy mouth, what she felt was a sense of satisfaction that was just as powerful as any orgasm.

She delighted in the fact that his legs had given out and he had needed to sit on the edge of the bed. Julie had managed to swallow most of his load, but a small globule had escaped and trailed down her chin, and she had resisted the urge to remove it and was rewarded by his fascinated reaction to the sight.

Seeing his wife standing before him, smirking mischievously as his semen leaked from her mouth, released the last of his inhibitions.

Summoning up the Jake Greville who had no trouble dominating an audience and who he was now accepting was in some sense his true self, he growled out,

"You do realise that this wanton behaviour is going to get you punished, don't you?"

Julie pouted provocatively at him, put a finger to her mouth and said,

"And who is going to punish me?"

Before she realised what was happening, he had grabbed her and thrown her, face down and arse up, across his knees.

"I am, you little brat," Jake said.

He easily pinned both her arms behind her back in one of his large hands. Julie had never felt so powerless or so vulnerable, and she was stunned to realise how much it aroused her. How could this be when she had never even fantasised about it?

Jake paused a moment, and she wiggled her bottom provocatively and said in a ridiculously fake scared voice,

"Please don't smack me, I will be a good girl, I promise."

That was enough to push him into action and he brought his hand down smartly on her right arse cheek, bringing an excited squeal from her. Then he brought his hand down again on the other cheek and repeated this several times over. She could feel that his cock had hardened already and in response she could feel her pussy liquifying.

For a moment the old Jake surfaced and asked,

"I haven't gone too far, have I?"

Julie quickly responded, in a voice that purred with lust.

"Oh no, Jake. You haven't gone too far. I want you to go a whole lot further. Take me. I need you inside me and please don't be gentle."

And that was the last that was heard of the old Jake, at least for that day.

He picked her up, threw her face down on the bed and quickly lay himself down on top of her prone body, roughly pulling her arms out and pinning them above her head with his. Using his legs Jake forcefully parted hers and before she could prepare herself, he had thrust his rigid cock fully into her.

Having already cum once and being blessed with above average stamina, he took her without mercy. Julie felt the strength in his hands as they held her arms. She wondered if there would be bruises and found herself hoping that there would. She felt the wiry hairs on his chest roughly scratching at her back and loved the sensation.

She quickly orgasmed and he ignored that completely, carrying on regardless and so driving her through discomfort to a far more powerful climax before he finally came with a growl of triumph she felt through her whole body.

Both finally sated, they held each other and began to say the words they both needed the other to hear. However, they quickly discovered that the other understood without it needing to be said.

When they talked, later over the pizzas they had ordered in, it was about their plans for the future. She downloaded the pictures she had taken in the woods that morning and he marvelled at her talent. Later he picked up his acoustic guitar and she was the first to hear the latest song that he had written, still a work in progress, and immediately grasped that it was a love song for her.

The following day she made Jake sit down and tell her the full story of his past, including all that was painful. Both of them cried at various points. Then they returned to talking of their future, now confident that they had one.

***

Once more Julie was standing in the audience while Jake was playing, but this time she was not hiding away in the shadows. She was right at the front below the stage.

A little earlier an overzealous official had come bustling up to object to her taking photographs with her professional-looking camera. Julie had enjoyed showing him her official accreditation as photographer to the band, and he had obviously seen her name and twigged who she was.

Maybe she would even get some shots that she could use on her new website, which had gone live earlier that week. She had been amazed at how many people wanted to buy prints of photos she had taken in the surrounding countryside, but Jake had just smiled smugly and said, 'I told you so'.

Julie could see Greta and her husband Paul a little distance away, enjoying the experience. Together with Jake they had invited Greta for lunch earlier that day, and after a certain initial awkwardness, she had got on so well with her that Jake began to complain that they were ganging up on him.

At one point after a song in which Jake had just taken a particularly powerful solo, the girl next to her actually threw her panties at him, and Julie's only response, aside from bemusement that there were really women who did that, was pride that her husband could provoke that reaction, as well as satisfaction that she had managed to capture a shot of the said item of underwear in flight. That probably would not go on the website, but maybe she would frame it and put it on the wall at home to embarrass her husband.

At the end of the concert, Jake came back on stage alone, carrying a twelve-string acoustic guitar and spoke to the audience.

"Normally I write songs for others to perform but tonight I want to play a new song that I wrote for myself. My great-grandfather managed to build a bridge over a chasm they said could not be bridged, and maybe his example inspired me. Anyhow, this song is dedicated to my wife, Julie. It is called 'The Chasm and the Bridge'."

With that he sat simply on the edge of the stage, only a few feet from Julie, and looking right at her he launched into the hauntingly beautiful song she had first heard when Jake had played it just for her. By the end she had tears streaming down her cheeks, but then when she looked around, she saw she was not alone in that.

After the audience had made him play it again, twice, and the applause had finally died down, the girl next to her somewhat broke the mood when she turned to Julie and said,

"Shit! He's got a wife."

Julie could not help but start giggling, before responding, trying hard to keep a straight face,

"I guess it's true what they say -- all the best ones are taken".

Epilogue

Henry Urquhart-Drago looked again at his expensive, top-of-the-range Satnav, annoyed that it could not sense his distaste, or rather to be honest, his fear of the bridge across the chasm. However, he guessed that it really was the only route that would get him to his midnight rendezvous in time, and while punctuality was something he generally saw as being for 'the little people', it probably was not a good idea to piss off a hitman. The thought made him smile.

Still, it would be worth it, to be finally rid of the Grevilles, and not to have to worry that one day, having waited until the time was right, they would take their revenge on him. No, his family had not achieved their eminence over so many generations by passively waiting for events to unfold, and he would prove himself a worthy heir to their traditions.

He had tried subtle, and it hadn't worked, and far from being driven to take his life as Henry had assumed, Jake had forgiven his wife and his marriage seemed stronger than ever. Why couldn't life follow the script he had written for events?

He had even had to accept the humiliation of being saved from possible serious legal problems by Julie Greville being willing to write a statement saying that he had not in any way sexually harassed her. And the bitch had refused to accept any money from him or the company.

Then on top of that Jake now had a massive international hit with his song, The Chasm and the Bridge. Henry felt like fate was mocking him, trying to ram some kind of morality tale down his throat.

Enough of being subtle. He looked across at the nondescript black holdall on the passenger seat, with its neat packages of banknotes, totalling a hundred thousand pounds, and decided it would be cheap at twice the price to finally be rid of both Jake and his sister, and so to end their line. He would then be able to get on with recovering for the Urquhart-Dragos their rightful place in the world. Free of that niggling distraction he would be able to fulfil his destiny. He would be an MP after the next election and perhaps as soon as ten years after that he could even be prime minister; these days it was just a matter of finding some simple populist message and the plebs would fall for it.

He wondered what the etiquette was for discussions with professional killers. Could you specify the means or was it best left to the man's professional judgement? Could you negotiate a bulk discount? Something along the lines of 'pay to have two shot and have one stabbed for free'. In that case he would have Julie Greville dispatched as well.

Maybe you could even send a message, like when sending a bouquet of flowers. He kind of wanted Jake to know who had ordered his death. In fact, ideally it would be great to be there, but Henry was sensible enough to know that would be rather risky. He would have to forgo that pleasure. No-one could say that he was not able to show self-control.

As he approached the bridge he began to speed up, anxious to get over it as quickly as possible and have it behind him. Only as he was nearly there did he notice that the mist that always seemed to linger about it had thickened considerably, so much so that he could hardly make out the other side. However, reasoning that at such a late hour there was not likely to be any other vehicle on the road he did not slow down, even though the fog was becoming denser by the second. He hit the bridge going over seventy and so when headlights suddenly appeared ahead, he swerved on instinct, self-preservation the aim, though paradoxically his actions preserved the life of the driver in the oncoming vehicle rather than his own.

The momentum of his SUV was more than enough to break through the railings on the bridge and then he was in a dark place, falling. In that moment it seemed to him that he had been falling all his life, waiting to hit a bottom that did not exist.

'The driver of the van involved stated that the oncoming vehicle appeared out of nowhere, and despite there being perfect visibility, unusual in a locality where it is often foggy, it swerved violently and crashed through the barriers on the bridge. The police have stated that the deceased did not have any traces of alcohol or other banned substances in his bloodstream. They have so far been unable to establish why he had a large amount in cash with him, nor the reason for his late-night journey.

'Henry Urquhart-Drago was the last surviving member of an ancient family, and since he died intestate it might take some time to discover his legitimate heirs. Whoever it is will not carry the name of Urquhart-Drago as that line is now extinct.'

Extract from a report in the Wolfsden Gazette.

The End

A note from the author:

I would like to thank everyone who has read, voted on and commented on this story. Obviously, I loved the praise, but in truth I also appreciated those who were critical since they had taken the time to read the story and it clearly evoked an emotional response, even if negative, and I have to accept that at least some of the points made were valid.

For those who wanted to suggest where the story should go after the first chapter, the sad truth is that the ending was almost the first bit I wrote!

Judging by the comments I will have disappointed some with my ending, but since there were a variety of preferences expressed, including someone who wanted Urquhart-Drago to emerge victorious, that would be the case no matter what the ending was.

All I can suggest if you feel disappointed, or that you would have made a better job of it, is that you should try writing a story and submitting it. I am not being passive-aggressive here. I mean it. Writing and submitting a story is rather scary but exciting -- a little like going on a first date! The outcome can range anywhere from meeting the love of your life to getting your face slapped.

For those of you who saw the Urquhart-Dragos as being a bit excessive in their villainy, I will let you in on a secret. They are based on a combination of real-life models. The bit about compensation for slavery is true, however! What could legitimately be called unrealistic is the fact that the villain gets his comeuppance, which is sadly rare in real life, but I indulged myself.

Since we are not writing for money here on Literotica the only valid currency has to be attention, so I thank you for yours.