The Hyacinth House Pt. 01

There was something about the Floating World stories though, that drew her back to them again and again. There was wistfulness and tenderness in the way Adam wrote about his women that Maddy enjoyed, and she felt safe in the world he'd created, identifying with the women he wrote. They were gentle too, but had a quiet strength about them that they got from the inside, whereas Maddy's strength was physical, from the outside. She wanted to look outwards through their eyes and see Adam's blue eyes gazing back at her.

She wondered what it would be like to be desired the way Adam wanted his women, and she loved the tiny moments when he gave himself up to them completely. Sometimes the phrase was so quiet, if she wasn't reading carefully she'd miss it; only seeing it the next time she read.

She liked, too, how his secondary characters deserved stories of their own, Flick especially. When Maddy read Flick the first time she thought, my god, she's me. When Flick nearly cried with longing when she came, Maddy nearly cried too, when she came.

Then, after a horrendous week at work and completely unaware of what was about to happen, she read the opening scene of the first Madelyn chapter, one Wednesday night in the middle of July. She read it twice, the first time with a slow recognition, the second time with open eyed astonishment.

"Jilly," she said the next day, "read this. That's me, this guy's written about me. I remember him, in the street. About three years ago. Something about him, we were just chatting while waiting for the lights, but I stopped in the street ten seconds later and introduced myself. I gave him my name, Jill. My name."

"Maddy, you don't give anyone your name."

Jillian rang her a couple of days later. "Mads, have you finished the whole series yet? I've just read the last part. Fuuck. I don't know how many times I came, reading that story. Your guy, he can write some fucking hot scenes." They exchanged notes, then Jillian said what Maddy had been thinking, but hadn't dared say out loud.

"Maddy, you should contact him. Find out if the writer guy is like his Adam character. You could be his Maddy, for real."

"Jilly, don't be stupid. I can't do that. I mean, that's just weird, isn't it, contacting someone you don't know, out of the blue?"

"But Mads, you do know him. You met him in the street, remember, and gave him your name. You're urban buddies. You're in his bloody story, for fucks sake."

"That's not me. No way. Besides, she's spelt differently, with the y and the n."

"Fucking hell Mads, where's your sense of adventure? This bloke chatted to you in the street, and you clearly made an impression, coz he's just written a spicy hot story about dommes and ropes and stuff. He's written you both like a pair of wild animals. How often does that happen in suburbia, in your little house down by the beach?"

"It doesn't."

"Precisely. Do it, Mads, it'll be an adventure." Jillian was relentless. "If it was me, I'd do it. How old did you say this bloke was again?"

"Jilly, stop it. Don't tease."

And they'd changed the subject, just like they always did. But Jillian had sowed a seed in Maddy's head, and it didn't take very long to grow.

Early on the Sunday morning then, lying in her bed, her breath still fast from her orgasm - crying out when Madelyn cried out for her father but Adam was there instead - Maddy had clicked on the feedback form. She'd written a slightly rambling, slightly clumsy message, her fingers trembling on the keyboard, and, before she'd thought about it too much, she'd added her email address and the bot prevention code, and sent it.

And now she had a reply.

* * * *

Adam set the dishwasher to rinse and shook some dried food out for the cat. He wandered downstairs to turn off the outside lights and to make sure the back door was locked, before coming back up the stairs to the main body of the house. All the blinds were down against the cold, so he moved silently around within a darkened cocoon, lit only by the few lights he'd left on.

He brushed his teeth, standing naked before the mirror in the bathroom, his eyes focussed meaninglessly on a point in mirrored space, somewhere behind his head. Existence revolved, and he was alone.

Shaking his head to clear it, Adam shut the bathroom door and made his way down the hall to his bedroom. Still naked, he got into bed and reached for the Kindle on his bedside table. After scrolling through his Tumblr feed for a minute or two, he clicked on the email tab.

To: writingbyaacain@notarealemailaddress

From: Maddy88$$@notarealemailaddress

Date: July 14, 2019, 11:11 PM

Ten minutes ago? Was the woman from the street lying naked in bed, having spent however long composing her email, just sent? He remembered her long legs, but his mind's eye picture of Maddy, of Madelyn, was his own creation from his stories, and his cock began to thicken.

Thus primed, he read on.

Hi Adam,

Goodness me, that sounds so familiar, because I don't know you. But I do, in a way, because it was me introduced myself to you in the street that day, wasn't it? and I did touch your shoulder, like you described your Maddy doing. Your Maddy. Does it sound strange, if I say I'm bit jealous of your Maddy? I'm not her, but I sort of want to be.

I've read all your Floating World stories now, and omg I have to agree with those comments, especially the girl who wrote, she felt tingles all the way to her toes. That's what I felt, reading those stories. Do you get people saying they masturbate to your stories? Well I did, and I'm not embarrassed to say it, because your writing made me feel really really good, and it's only right you should know. God Maddy you can't write that he'll think you're some sex starved idiot."

'No, I don't,' thought Adam, 'I don't think that at all.' His cock shifted, hardening to her words. He liked the way she talked to herself in the email; that was quirky, unusual. He pictured Maddy in her bed, long red fingernails flickering over a keyboard, every so often pushing hair away from her face. He recalled the length of her hair that day in the street; just over shoulder length, but that was three years ago, it was probably a different cut now. The trail of his memory shifted and reset itself.

He'd written his Madelyn with russet red hair, but this Maddy was someone new. She was real and he was intrigued; he'd have to ask her the cut of her hair, and whether she still wore the dark grey pencil skirt that was so deliciously tight. Did she wear a scarf that day? His glimmering memory thought that she did. It must have been cold, an early spring day, and she'd covered her neck to stay warm.

He continued reading, his cock fully hard now, its heat pressed down onto his belly by the bed-covers. He stirred lazily, grazing the head on the sheets. The shaft bounced, once. He imagined her lips touching his.

Maddy's message continued:

And your Adam character, I love the way he adores the women he is with, and his respect for them. Even Madelyn who is as crazy as a cut snake, he pays her proper attention too, loving her gently, even when she's gone nuts. Is she based on somebody you know? Inside her head I mean, because I know physically you were inspired by me, my long legs and as tall as you. In heels, anyway. She's sexy as anything, though. I don't know if I'm sexy like her. I mean, yes, I'm tall and I play a lot of sport, so I'm fit. Actually, I'm way fitter than the time you met me, because I do weights now. Not big heavy body-builder type weights, but good for muscle tone workouts, you know?

But look, I'm just going on. Can I just tell you before I finish, that Flick, in your Gabriela story, she's my favourite. I'm a Flick, I reckon, if you met me for real. Is that okay, to be more like another character, than the Maddy you wrote about?

Anyway, Adam, it's late now, and I've work in the morning, so I'll send this. I'm still in the city, and walk down Crawford Street occasionally. Next time I do, I'll think about you that day! It would be really nice to bump into you again, one day, if you still work there. But it was a few years ago, wasn't it, and you're probably somewhere else. Ships in the night, then, whatever the saying is :)

You be warm too, if it's still cold where you are. I'm not very glamorous right now, in my flannel pyjamas. Like Madelyn's fluffy slippers, they made me smile. Sucking on the milkshake, too. Not always immaculate or perfect, was she? It made her more real.

Maddy.

Adam lay quietly in bed, his fingers idly stroking his shaft with a slow, almost unconscious movement. It was a part of his being, his cock, part of his central essence, and the movement was meditative, a slow contemplation. His mind, though, was full of this woman. The memories of her in the street came thudding back, interwoven with the visions of his story creation, Madelyn with her fingers in her cunt and the zip of her skirt high up her thigh. 'Oh no, Mister Cain, I don't do that.'

And Juliette, the brat Juliette with her flowing, flowery dresses and her heart-shaped pubic hair; the vision implanted in his head from the photos of Erin that he'd found in a photographer's blog, the perfect embodiment of Juliette. In his head.

In his head. This woman Maddy, she seemed from her emails to be straightforward, no messing about. 'I masturbate to your stories.' Apologising for not being like Madelyn, wanting to be like Flick; telling him she did weights, she was even fitter than before...

Adam's hand stopped moving. With his other hand, he lifted the bed-covers and looked down at himself, his cock. Maddy's cock, because this erection was there in response to her. 'It's only right that you should know.'

Adam read her emails again, and his own quite neutral response. Maddy was more open about herself than he was, in these emails, and he suspected that much of it was subconscious, unknowing. She'd written, 'It would be really nice to bump into you again, one day, if you still work there. But it was a few years ago, wasn't it, and you're probably somewhere else. Ships in the night, then, whatever the saying is.' That sounded like someone who day-dreamed from time to time, but was more practical in reality.

Then he read her closing paragraph again, and smiled. Maddy's honest, unpretentious mention of her snug flannel pyjamas. How down to earth was that? He lay pondering for a couple of minutes, and made his mind up. He sat up in bed, clicked on the email tab, and began to write a reply.

His erection subsided. Like his character, Adam was an unhurried man, and there would plenty of time for that.

* * * *

"Fuck Jilly, what do I do?"

"Let me see those again," Jill said, turning Maddy's laptop towards her. She scrolled down through the message thread, reading the call and response and, knowing her friend very well indeed, reading between her lines.

Jillian looked back to Maddy and saw the panic and excitement on her face. She melted, thinking, 'Oh my baby, you are just so fucking gorgeous, I want to eat you all up, hug you till you can't breathe, take you home to meet my mother. God, you really don't know, do you?'

But what she said was, "My, my, Mads. Goodness me, you're a naughty girl, aren't you? Telling this writer fellow you've been jilling to his stories. And I thought you'd be jilling over me." She winked.

"Jilly, don't. This is serious. What do I do?" Maddy pulled her laptop back towards her, nearly knocking over a coffee cup. She grabbed it, and took another sip. Her lipstick marked the touch of her lips on the cup, and she left a trail there for a waiter to find.

"Here, let me," said Jillian, swivelling the keyboard back towards her. She quickly started typing.

"Fuck, Jill, what are you doing? Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare!"

"It's okay, Mads, I won't say anything you don't want me to say." She kept typing, batting Maddy's hand away as she did so. "Careful Mads, you'll knock the computer onto the floor. Trust me, I'm your best friend, remember." She finished typing, and turned the laptop back to Maddy. "There. It's saved as a Draft." She carefully shut the laptop screen down, and calmly, deliberately, placed it back into its carry satchel and placed it into Maddy's big shoulder bag. "Promise me you'll look at it. You have to send something, it would be impolite not to reply."

"Jillian, you did just save it, didn't you? You didn't send it?"

"Of course I didn't send it. This is your adventure you've got yourself into, Mads. It's up to you to press that Send button, when you're good and ready. Use your clit finger. He'll know." Her eyes sparkled with delight as she predicted Maddy's reaction.

"Jilly, don't! God you're bad. Stop teasing."

"I only do it because I love you, baby. You know that."

Maddy did know that, just as she knew she'd look at Jill's draft reply later on and decide what to do. "Can we talk about something else, please."

So they did. But Jillian looked at Maddy and saw the very faint blush on her neck, and she wondered, 'Am I becoming Maddy's Flick, the best friend forever, left behind?'

* * * *

To: Maddy88$$ (Maddy)

From: writingbyaacain (Adam)

Date: July 15, 2019, 12:18 AM

Hello again, Maddy,

Many thanks for your last message, and the delightful image you left me of a young woman curled up snug in flannel pj's on a couch. Not quite the glamorous Madelyn, but far more practical these cold nights, don't you think?

Since we've been introduced already, maybe next time I'm in town, I could buy you a coffee? I'd like that, and it would make up for my automatic haste to get back to work that day, when really, I should have walked at least another block with you. No obligation, and I don't have a card! "Oh no, Mister Cain, I don't do that." But that's my Madelyn, not you :).

Please let me know, and I completely understand if you'd rather not. I assure you, I'm not as smooth as the Adam in my stories, and I don't own a purple shirt so you'll be safe. We could go to On The Square if you like. It's the one in my stories.

If you say yes, please let me know a time, and I'll see what I can do.

Best wishes, Adam

* * * *

To: Adam

From: Maddy

Date: July 17, 2019, 8:29 PM

Dear Mister Writer Adam Cain,

My name is Jillian, and I'm Maddy's best friend in the whole wide world, and she's always asking me to keep her out of trouble. Truth be told, some days I'm the angel on her left shoulder making sure she's a good girl, other days the devil on her right, making sure she's bad. She'll edit this out, of course, and then I'll be nothing at all. How sad!

Miss Madeleine will be delighted to accept your invitation - haha, she almost spilt her coffee, trying to see what I'm writing - on a convenient day for you, as I'm sure you're a busy man with no time to spare, and certainly no time for a floozy like Maddy. She's really quite shameless, her emails, oh how I blushed!

I've just checked her calendar and, oh look, on Friday morning she's doing nothing at all, and even less at eleven. She's not got anything listed for any morning, actually, only silly meetings in the afternoons. I really don't know what they do where she works, it doesn't look like very much at all. I must have a word with Mr. Carruthers. Those lawyers, I don't know. Harrumph!

If that is a convenient time for you, Mister Cain, please reply. A one word answer will do. If it's a nice day, you two can perambulate around the square and I shall keep watch from a distance (I'll be the one in the flouncy dress, hiding behind a tree).

If Maddy's not available, I will be. Do you like short women? I've read your stories too, of course you do. I'm perfect for you, much better than those skinny tall girls with no boobs she'll edit that out too, you'll see.

Yours truly madly deeply, Jillian "Jilly" Smithers, Lady's Maid and Confidante and all round Good Girl

ps: Adam, this is the real Maddy. I'd love to catch up, if we could. Is Friday okay? Jilly is such a dag, but I love her to death. This is what I put up with, every day! But an escape to one of your slow cafés would be just what I need (to get away from her!)

* * * *

To: Adam

From: Maddy

Date: July 18, 2019, 12:42 PM

I am not a dag, and I'm not her friend any more. So there.

Jilly Smithers xxx

* * * *

To: Adam

From: Maddy

Date: July 18, 2019, 12:48 PM

Adam, please ignore Jillian. I just went to the loo and this is what she does!

Maddy

* * * *

Adam wandered into the café about five minutes before eleven and saw Ruth, the owner, behind the counter.

"Hi Ruth, long time no see. How are you, business been good?"

"Hey, hi, Adam. Yes, busy as always. It's good to see you, too. It's been a while, hasn't it? You're not in the city any more?"

"No, been working up north, driving across town. Bad greasy Joe's at lunchtime, that kind of thing."

"Poor you! Coffee?"

"Not just yet. I'm meeting someone. I'm early. I'll order when she gets here." He turned to find a table.

"Okay, just let me know. It's before the lunchtime rush, so no need to come to the counter. Not for one of my special customers!" Ruth smiled warmly, liking as always the way Adam paid her his full attention. "I see Amanda occasionally," she added. "Lucky girl, she landed on her feet with that job up the road. She comes in with clients from time to time, she's loving it."

Adam, who kept in occasional touch with the vibrant young girl, smiled back. "Yes, she's a honey. I got a postcard from her, from Japan. Her and Ant, still together. That's really sweet."

Ruth looked at him; and the fond look in his eyes and those few simple words confirmed everything she'd guessed. Amanda and Adam, they'd got to know each other beyond the space of her counter. Knowing Adam's charm, and being a little susceptible to it herself, she'd keep an eye out for the woman he was meeting.

"Just over there, by the window, there's a quiet table." Ruth pointed to an empty part of the café where small booths with wide windows overlooked the square. "Lizzie, keep an eye out, would you, and take their order when Adam's companion turns up."

"Sure, Ruth. Hello," the young waitress said to Adam, "I'm Lizzie."

"Hello, Lizzie. I'm Adam." He acknowledged the girl. "Did you take over from Gabriela?"

"Yes. We worked together for a while, 'till she went back home. Did you know her?"

"Oh yes, I know Gabriela. The beautiful Gabriela. How could I forget?"

Adam made his way to the booth Ruth suggested, and slid across to the window. Lizzie saw a sudden stillness come over him and she thought, now there's a man who waits. After five minutes, she saw him get up, go to the stand by the door where he picked up a newspaper, before returning to the booth. She wondered if he'd been stood up, but somehow, she doubted that. He didn't seem like a man you'd stand up, you'd probably only do it the once.

Lizzie served the next customer, watching Adam from the corner of her eye. She saw him turn the pages of the newspaper, quietly, regularly. Perhaps time moved more slowly in that booth, or wherever Adam was. Lizzie, for whom time passed in a frenzy, for she was still young, continued to observe.

Suddenly, there was a swirl of movement outside the front door. Adam looked across to see a tall woman push on the glass, and it seemed like she in turn was being steered through the entrance by a shorter, curly-haired woman, almost pushing her through. He heard, "Jilly, don't..." and, even though it had been three years and really, just the briefest encounter, he recognised Maddy.

Not the poised, confident Maddy he'd met in the street, but a flustered woman trying to stop her bag sliding from her shoulder, trying to look around the café, trying to keep her balance from the force propelling her from behind; all at once. Adam slid across the bench seat and got to his feet.