The Night Manager ReduxbyWhiff666©
Synopsis of "The Night Manager" by John LeCarre'
Le Carre's book takes thirty five year old Jonathon Pine, who is trying to escape uncomfortable memories from his past, into an undercover venture to attempt to bring the "worst man in the world", Dick Roper, to justice. Pine is a man of many parts, and eventually falls under the spell of Roper's mistress, Jebediah. They fail in their mission to get Roper, and Jonathon is beaten nearly to death, but they eventually find solace in each other on a rocky pinnacle in West Cornwall, hiding from both their pasts. Pine's recruiter is Leonard Burr, a down to earth Yorkshireman who is dedicated to destroying Roper, and his ilk.
The novel is one of LeCarre's most romantic, and is the beginning of his recent imaginings(?) of worldwide conspiracies among unlikely crooks. But I have always felt that I didn't read enough about the subsequent relationship between the confused, sensual, yet adorable Jeb, and the somber, multi-talented, brooding Jonathon.
Herewith, Whiff steps bravely into the vacuum.
His romantic demon coveted desperately these occasions when she would return from a surrepetitious visit with her ailing parents. She always contrived to arrive at sundown, in time for dinner, and he always went full out. The mussels ala Mama Low, the steak au poivre, the carrot cake. And afterwards, the long sweet night with no demands on tomorrow's time.
Jeb had the uniquely english beauty which came in a package, a tall, slender body with surprisingly heavy breasts, long legs, and chestnut hair which she was letting grow in a vain attempt to hide her lovely, sensual features. "A reasonably good looking girl gets a lot of attention, Jonathon, and I was never terribly certain of myself, as you have pointed out to me on occasion. I do think I have a sensual nature though. I must say I never expected you to be such a good fuck, you seemed so well controlled. Oh my, that's quite nice darling. Quite........ahhhhhhh.......nice."
When they first got to their little shack, two rooms and a loo, their love making was frantic and enthralling, trying to make up for time lost. Even though he was recovering, his stocky body healing faster than his damaged, pugnacious face, she would mount him as he lay staring up at her, his heart full of need, and she would smile as they climbed a ladder of desire they were still not sure they had. He would prod her self examination, and his own, as they lay gasping together afterwards, while she would worry that she was hurting him. He would reassure her, even though she did indeed touch the wrong places some times, but he found he didn't care. She liked to imitate the arch, high handed conversation she had practiced with Roper, as a way of showing him her disdain for a past that haunted them both, but quixotically nurtured the obsession they felt for each other.
At least that was what Jonathon called it, obsession. He was somehow afraid to call it love, for not only did he fear his own understanding of their bond, he wasn't sure she understood it as something outside the usual affection she slipped into so easily. Jeb avoided even a mention of their feelings, instead letting him jibe her gently about little habits from the past, affectations which had become second nature to her, and as she realized their artificiality, she would bite her lip and whisper, "I'm trying darling. You know I am. And its working, don't you think? I feel much more, oh, open. I'm not afraid to show myself to you. Imagine, me, an aristocrat, with an army sergeant. Really, darling, we should invent a more interesting past for you. You could play the role of a Prussian cavalry officer and noble quite nicely I think. Though Jonathon, now really, you must learn to sit a horse. That would go with the story. A Prussian cavalry officer does not bounce."
There were certain times, however, when he couldn't imagine life without her. Although she was not a sailor, as he became well enough to take the twenty foot skiff out into the bay, she would sit beside him and squeal with pleasure when they were racing before the wind, tilted nearly into the sea. Her shirt plastered to those lovely tits, squinting into the spray, with an excited smile as she imagined the situation was dangerous, yet never seeming to be afraid. "I can tell when someone's good at something dear, and you are good at this." They would kiss as the wind whistled, and the salt water in their mouthes made the contact unforgettable. It was then that he thought about love.
But tonight was about lust. She had arrived a bit unkempt from her long drive, kissed him briefly, eyed the kitchen's contents, smiled her blazing smile to him, and said "I must shower and dress for you, my love. Give me fifteen minutes." But she would always take thirty, emerging from the bedroom in clinging outfits designed to provoke him. Tonight was a red strapless silk thing she had retrieved from home, he supposed. Her nipples, pubic bone, and navel were on vivid display. She walked in that longstepped way to the chair he was holding for her, put her hand on his face, and sat herself, wiggling her butt. Then she looked over her shoulder with her fuck me smile and whispered "Can you wait, darling? I think I can, but just barely." They had ruined a couple of meals when they couldn't.
But they ate a relaxed, elegant meal in the rustic confines of the small, yet well maintained cabin which had had a few improvements courtesy of the Whitehall budget of 1991. She told him about her parents, about a man she imagined might have been following her, and the lengths she went to escape him. She had written down the number, so that Burr could check during his next visit. He described a walk during which a couple of the locals, in their countryside way, had quizzed him about his relationship to Jack Linden, an alternate identity now wanted in several countries. "I visited three stores to find the meat. I wonder if Burr can bring in a good butcher." It was one of their jokes, for surely they owed their lives to Leonard Burr.
As she finished her second piece of cake, "Just a sliver, dear", they rose together and dumped their dishes into the small sink. He had the rest of the pots and pans already cleaned and put away, for he knew how intolerant she was of delay on evenings like this. He could hardly hide his erected cock, and she eyed it rather outrageously, then reached under her arm to unzip the dress. Her eyes hooded and she sighed as the bodice dropped to her waist, revealing those gorgeous breasts. They had another joke about moments like this, that her "aristocratic whore", or "oversexed duchess" persona emerged still intact.
She had gained a little weight in their hiding, and it had given her figure a new voluptuousness. Her tits had certainly grown slightly, and her hips, in spite of her constant riding, were more womanly. She had never been self conscious, and now as she leered at him, with her chest exposed, the nipples stiff in the cool air, and her hips rotating ever so slightly, he felt that surge of need, attraction, and desire she had always caused, and embraced her roughly.
She grunted as he collided with her, then kissed him with open mouthed passion, gasping, as he pinched a nipple with one hand and the other held her against him. They were nearly the same height when she wore heels, and the kiss went on and on, comfortable, erotic. As always, his head spun as they stood there, wanting each other even more than twelve months ago when they had arrived. "Come on, Jonathon. You have a long night ahead of you. And let me warn you, there are no knickers under this dress, in case you hadn't noticed, but there is a tampon inside me. You know I can't get near you without getting wet, don't you? Yes I know you do, you naughty man." After that, conversation stopped.
In the bedroom, on these occasions, they had a routine which suited them and never seemed stale.
As she approached the bed, she pushed the dress down her legs, not without difficulty, and threw herself down, legs spread, well short of the head. She reached down, extracted the tube of the tampon, and threw it at him as he tore off his clothes. He caught it and sucked the juice which had indeed been absorbed in it. It tasted like Jed. His heart soared again.
Her pussy had been shaved fashionably up to six months ago, but she had let it grow, as somehow more fitting for their rural retreat. So there was a thick column in the middle of a wispy triangle, though she insisted on keeping the area around her cunt lips smooth. He leaned down to smell her, seeing the wet, thin slice of pink seeming to wink at him, as he straddled her head. He heard her murmur "Jonathon", then felt her begin to suck in his cock, feeling little swipes of her tongue, as he licked up the gash of her cunt. Her hips jumped when he came to the top, and he raised his head to watch the clitoris extend, seeming to pop out of its sheath. He had always thought that with such a large, responsive sex organ, it was amazing she hadn't gotten in more trouble than she had.
He began to lick and then suck vigorously, for this would be her first climax of the night. She was incredibly sensitive when she had been away nearly a week, and her orgasm was not long in coming. His cock popped out of her mouth as she groaned and grunted, humping to his mouth while her torso twisted and writhed in passion. It went on and on, and after savoring the tart gush from her twat, he pivoted to watch her lovely face with the twisted smile she seemed only to get in the throes of her passion. "I always pledge I'm going to hold off, darling, like you do, but I can't seem to manage it. I mean its you, and it feels so good, and, well, it just is too strong to resist. You are good for me, you know."
Then they kiss, sharing her taste, as he caresses her heated body while she holds his penis lovingly. It is a small resting period that presages their next step, as he mounts her and their bodies merge, united in their desire. He dominates this time, stroking gently at first, feeling her encompass him, while she settles her legs on his calves to help her surge to him as they rise. She repeats his name constantly, and they share the wonder of their survival, and this glorious joining. She waits for him, whispering "Go ahead, darling, fill me, stay with me Jonathon, own me darling, own my puss, it's yours yours,.........yes , god, oh shoot it in me , ahhhhhhhhh......." Their completion is not as frantic as her first, but they are together, and it is long lasting, seeming to unite them in an overwhelming sphere of pleasure.
In his past, this had been enough for an evening, but she had changed him, holding him, cooing softly, keeping him inside her even though he had shrunk. "You recover very nicely, darling. I think there's an animal hiding in there, between the civility and the romantic. I know there is, I've seen it. I'm ready for the animal, Jonathon."He feels her cunt squeezing him in a rhythmic way. "I suppose you know you're rather big, don't you? But you don't think about it. I would love to see you, just once, parade it for me, show it off, advertise your masculinity. But even if you don't, my dearest, I know it's there. Perhaps that's what I can help you discover, while you teach me what I am. Aside from your whore, Jonathon. Always your whore."
They did not have a routine past this point, and one or the other would often seek some new ways of finding thrills. Their first experiment with sodomy, "My bum is a virgin darling, you must take it.", surprising them both with the pleasure they got from it. When he regained his strength, he liked to pick her up, and hold her while standing, or leaning against a wall, while she bounced on his rigid prick. The first time he had done that, after feeling the flood of fluid from her climax, he lowered her to the bed as she whispered "Oh Jonathon, my bull, god." She loved being on top of him, sometimes lying, sometimes squatting, opening and closing her legs.
Tonight, she pulled a dildo from its hiding place under the bed. When she twisted the end and it began to hum, he made a face. She smiled and whispered "Wait until you see how I use it darling. Its not a replacement for you, but a supplement. Did you notice my bum was greasy? I told you it would be a long night." Her smile was dazzling as she twisted to her hands and knees, and leaving the little plastic cylinder on the bed, pulled the cheeks of her firm, delectable ass apart.
Jonathon gently eased his cock into her tight anal passage, burying it as she sighed. He leaned over her back, his hands covering her breasts, tingling as he began to fuck, her body tight as always but welcoming in some perverse way. Suddenly, he felt vibration, and even more tightness, and realized she had inserted the dildo into her foaming snatch, and was wiggling her hips fiercely as her groans echoed in the room. He found himself riding a wild woman out of her mind with spasmodic pleasure. Their passion seemed to escalate beyond control as they rutted mindlessly, minutes on end, lost in whirling passion. "My god, my god, oh Jonathon stay with me darling, aiyeeeeeeee.........."He could feel spasms in her ass even as he felt the dildo ejected by her cunt, as her cum boiled through her. He fought for control, but her climax seemed to be never ending, and he finally whispered "You've done it, Jeb, here I ....mmmmmmmm."
As he lay beside her after this strenuous hour and a half, their closeness seemed to him at its most intense. Though he had never said it to her, he thought their love making confirmed rather than consummated their relationship. She cuddled and wiggled, content to plant small kisses wherever was convenient. Finally she sighed, as she realized that her best efforts would probably not succeed in reawakening his soft member, and said "Well alright old man, that will be quite enough." Then she paused, and Jonathon's antenna went up immediately. She was going to make one of her pronouncements, something she had been thinking about, and wanted him to agree to. But it was actually something he could quickly, and gladly, agree to. "Darling, I stopped the pills last week. So it could well be that you just made a little Pine. I do hope so Jonathon. You can send me away, you can curse me forever, but I want a child, your child. I don't care if we marry, I don't care if you desert me, I want to raise your child and watch him grow." She never asked him what he thought about her pronouncements, since they were usually their principal topic of conversation for several days.
But now he lay thinking that against all good sense, he was filled with a happiness he had thought unavailable to him. Suddenly, there might be a future. There could be a life of some normalcy. He could talk to Burr, perhaps some new developments might let them rejoin, in some tentative way, the human race. He turned to Jed and embraced her, feeling his cock suddenly stiffen into the space between her thighs, choking in his unfamiliar joy. "I would love a child, Jeb. Ours."
Her leg moved over him, and she reached down to insert him inside her. As her pussy engulfed his raging tool, and their mouthes locked together, he felt tears wetting his face. He wasn't sure whose they were.
Two weeks later they were sipping coffee, both a little down. She had started her period the night before. He was, as usual, more stalwart than she, and talked instead of Burr's visit. "He seemed rather excited on the phone. I'm not sure what an Eton Don can do to rival his old life, but he would not have called out of school if something weren't brewing. And he's bringing Rooke. That's a sign."
She asked "Mightn't that shakeup of the new cabinet have something to do with it? Perhaps our Leonard is back in favor. God knows he did in that bastard Bradshaw, with his own people."
Jonathon shrugged. "He might not tell us if he were, just spin out some story. He's all spy and a mile wide." She frowned at his contraction. But she brightened when he suggested a sail on the morning tide. Burr always came for dinner. Jonathon had learned his culinary trade very well.
"Oh let's darling. I brought a new bikini from home, and its a nice warm day. If you're nice, I'll take off the top for you."
Burr had to admit he felt a surge of attraction every time he saw Jebediah. She had never lost the kind of english gentlewoman enthusiasm she projected as she came loping down to embrace him, and shake hands with Rooke. But he was unable to work up any jealousy towards Jonathon. He had seen brave men, and foolish men, and talented men, but thought Jonathon the best combination of these he had ever known. He had feared that Jonathon would lose the capacity for illusion when he first escaped Roper, but time had given him back his imagination. Yet his smile of greeting was still the reserved, careful thing that only partially hid his independence.
Burr knew he had no real hold on them. They were in fact totally devoted to each other, and to no other. Pine had a carefully hidden bank account, and her parents were going to leave Jeb a substantial estate. They were joined in the turmoil of the past, their intimate knowledge of each other's sins and failures, and their shared hate for Roper and his ilk. Burr had, through his contacts in the shadow world, arranged their false identities, though Jeb's cover was shallow. But they seemed content here in this rustic, remote hideaway, and he sometimes sensed that Jonathon was waiting for a chance to go to war once again. He harbored an anger that Burr knew to be fierce, and unresolved. He was counting on that.
But he bided his time with small talk and gossip from Whitehall. "They are still really overgrown adolescents, though Mrs. Thatcher did her job well. The market forever, and bugger any government interference. Rex is sort of coasting to retirement, but there are still a couple of believers scattered about. And he has me buried so deep no one can find me." They were still sipping cocktails, with Jed and Jonathon relaxing on the wooden couch and Rooke and Burr in chairs. From the first, Pine had insisted that Jeb always hear their plottings. "She must grow up, Leonard. And I don't want to ever surprise her."
Finally, as they gushed over Jonathon's "langoustine locale", the base for which he somehow contrived to trap in a local spring, Burr charged into the breach. "We've discovered that Roper has not exactly retired from the scene, old chap. To wit, he has charged a cousin of Lord Langbourne the job of finding you two. There is something a trifle mysterious about that, since the man lives within thirty miles of this very spot. I hope it is but chance, though that stretches credulity a tad, don't you think? Aha, but Leonard to the rescue, an old chum has prevailed on the minority leader for a sanction on said renegade. Possession of state secrets, etcetera. So what do you say, old man? As a favor to Leonard? A forty mile sail up the channel, a sniper's justice, a little message for the Roper camp?" Silence settled over the table.
It was not quite off the wall for Jonathon, because Burr had occasionally averred to "little favors" which might come up that an ex-army, special force trained man could do for him. But this was a bald invitation to murder. It would not, of course, be Jonathon's first, nor his worst, though he had a somewhat strained and extended definition of murder. He sat there , staring at Burr, feeling his heart beat, sensing the abyss facing him, but with a fire of revenge burning bright in his gut. Before he could even sort out his feelings, Jeb pulled him from the table and into the bedroom, closing the door and pushing against him feverishly. She whispered savagely "I've met that man Jonathon. A true villain if ever there was one. Tell him you'll do it, that I can help you, and I promise you I will be your slave forever. Oh please, darling."