The Poisonous Cuckoo - Secrecy

The Poisonous Cuckoo - Part Two of Three

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Part One available via the Series connected to this story

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Chapter Four - Doubling Down

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Breathlessly I look into her eyes as she looks up at me.

I feel the last of my ejaculate seep from me into her as our fingers let go of one another's and I release the hold over her outstretched arms.

"Maybe blondes do have more fun," I offer as I look up from her eye-line towards her fringe.

"Hardly blonde," Jana Anderson states in reference to the new lighter shade she has dyed her hair since I last saw her, nearly a week ago.

"I like it," I offer with a mischievous grin, "Although I'm sure there's a popular theory regarding cheating partners changing their hair styles."

"Is there?" Jana states raising her hips from the bed beneath me and pressing her pelvis to mine clenching the walls of her vagina tightly around me as she does so. "I've never heard that."

For over three months now Jana Anderson and I have taken every and any clandestine opportunity presented to us to seek one another's company in the throes of our adulterous affair.

Opportunities mainly taken across weekdays and late morning rendezvous that ultimately continued on to middle to late afternoon sessions of deep carnal pleasure. That I worked to all intents and purpose from home and given that Jana did not work at all presented numerous opportunities whilst her husband, Simon Anderson, slaved away working hard at the desperately failing Clarkson Copper. A company in which I had invested substantially and in which I was now beginning to fear I had over invested in as major share holder.

The midweek liaisons that were frequently intersected by midweek overnight stays whilst Simon worked away. To the point I actively encouraged his attendance at the networking events that facilitated nights spent away in hotels up and down the country. Selling him the belief such events generated much needed exposure for the Warehouse Facilities Management company he ran on my behalf, when all the while the ruse only served to gain me ease of access to his Wife's less than hectic schedule.

The only fly in our ointment proving to be the Anderson's eighteen year old Son, Paul, who still lived at the large rural home set in several acres of land in a village twelve miles from the City.

Jana hid her overnight absences to Paul on the lies of a friend enduring a particularly torrid divorce. I cared little if said friend even existed so long as the deceit made Jana available to me.

"I need to get going," Jana offered with a tinge of regret. "Sara is back for the weekend... I'm picking her up at the station at four."

Glancing to the digital display of the bedside table clock I note the time at twelve minutes past three.

"The station's five minutes drive from here," I mischievously state.

"You're insatiable" Jana chuckles, gently pressing her hands to my chest.

I take heed of her unspoken command, slipping myself from her body as roll over to lay across my back. Jana immediately slips from the bed and heads towards the adjoining shower room.

Five minutes later I watch as she peels skintight black Lycra leggings up her legs before slipping into the complimenting design of the equally tight Lycra sports vest which accentuates every curve of her perfect physique. The style of outfit regularly worn to so explain her absence I have no doubt. As I watch her I consider how the thirty-nine-year-old must actually take good care of herself, much to my benefit.

"You enjoyed your work out?" I state on a chuckle.

"Very thorough..." Jana states looking back over her left shoulder as she zips a black Nike hooded sweatshirt over her upper body, "...although I've had more strenuous sessions."

"Be careful what you wish for..." I offer in response to her gentle baiting, "...I can think of some very strenuous... compromised sessions."

"Oh..." Jana states placing her hands to her hips as she stands at the foot of the bed, "....now you have me intrigued."

"Simon's away in Zurich for three nights in a couple of weeks..." I casually state on referencing her husband, "...maybe then would be a good time to explore... to demonstrate."

Jana's eyes narrow as she attempts to second guess what I allude to. My mind dwelling on the wooden chest that sits beneath the bed, and more particularly the contents of the chest.

"Not before?" Jana seductively enquires

"I'd prefer to take my time with such pleasures," I respond as I sit up in the bed. "I can be patient... can you?"

"You tease... have you any plans for the weekend Mister Halliday?" Jana offers stepping around the bed to retrieve her phone from the bedside table.

"Very few," I honestly confirm, "Meeting a former colleague for dinner tonight but beyond that I intend to be doing very little."

The second part of my statement being a lie contained within my potential plans for the evening, plans that could so easily influence the way the rest of the weekend falls.

"Don't have too much fun without me," Jana teases as she steps towards the bedroom door to see herself out.

"I won't," I offer sincerely, whilst contemplating otherwise.

**********

She bored me.

As visually attractive as she was as she sat across the table from me she failed to stimulate any genuine interest let alone trigger any aspect of my sordid imagination.

Her long blonde hair fell past her shoulders over the sheer black loose fitting top that was worn over a visible black bra.

Such was the mundanity of the meeting arranged via an online dating app that as we finished our second drinks my only thoughts were on a reason to leave both the venue and her company.

I had to keep reminding myself of her name such was my lack of concentration or her ability to hold my intrigue. I'm eighty percent certain her name is Millie. As my phone sat between us on the table, a matter I usually considered to be a hideous breach of polite etiquette I watch a notification appear across the screen.

Snatching the phone into my hand I made the pretence of opening the phone.

"Shit," I stated softly shaking my head from side to side. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Everything alright?" Mille enquires after finishing the last of her glass of white wine.

"No..." I offer immediately, "...Not really all the servers have gone down on the IT systems where I work... I'm going to... I have to go... I'm really sorry."

I see the suspicion creep across her face as she casually leans back against the leather seat of booth behind her.

"And let me guess only you can sort these servers on a Friday night?" She offers with a hint of disdain.

"Afraid so..." I state looking up from a pretend scroll of my phone, "I'm really sorry Millie... perhaps we can reconvene some time?"

"Reconvene?" She sneers at me, "I'm not some fucking business meeting... oh and my names Mollie by the fucking way... not that you've been fucking interested in a word I've had to say you miserable bastard."

Mollie snatches her jacket from the seat beside her, before I can even be bothered to offer a response she's taken to her feet and is headed through the crowded bar at a considerable rage fuelled pace.

Draining the last of my drink I look around the busy Irish Bar that we had met in at her suggestion. The venue is busy but far below the level of sophistication I am accustomed to. Finishing my own drink and setting my glass down on the table I decide to brave utilising the Gents toilets as I slip from the booth only to be immediately replaced by a group of five girls who raucously squeeze themselves into the space I vacate.

Minutes later as I push myself back through the crowds that jostle impatiently at the bar for the opportunity to be served with a drink the stench of the men's facilities is still seemingly in my nostrils. Brushing past a male who stumbles back a little, spilling lager from a pint glass that splashes on the floor at our feet I step aside to let an attractive brunette pass by me in the opposite direction.

As I turn my back on her I feel a gentle hand upon my shoulder.

"Hey I know you don't I?"

Turning back towards her I look into slightly inebriated looking eyes of the same girl I've just let pass me, eyes set among stunning if a little too heavily made up features.

"Do you?" I offer with a polite smile, despite no genuine recognition of the brunette.

"Yes..." she says on a beaming smile, "Yes... you work with my Dad."

Given the portfolio of companies under my stewardship and the number of employees across those companies her insinuation hardly narrows the potential of identifying who she is, let alone who her Father might be. Studying her features more closely is I attempt to make recognition.

"Simon..." she states before I can even begin to think, "...Simon Anderson."

In the moment of realisation and revelation I am not entirely sure how to react. I know who she is now, immediately, not just by her revelation of her Father but by her Mother. Believing to the best of my knowledge I've only met the eldest child of the Anderson's once in a very fleeting introduction at the Christmas Dinner Dance hosted five months ago.

"Sara?" I question despite knowing.

"That's right... and you're..." she takes a moments hesitation before stating, "...Markus."

"That's me..." I offer, "...What are you up to?"

"Just back for the weekend..." Sara immediately replies, "...me and my girls are all out for my friend Jessie's twenty first."

Of all the coincidences she points to the group of girls that had crowded into booth I had vacated.

"Few drinks and then we are headed to that club The Dark Star."

"Really?" I offer, knowing the establishment only by its salubrious reputation, "...I've heard it's a little rough there... full of perverts."

Sara chuckles at my statement, a chuckle that suggest an alternative answer to the one she gives.

"I'd better watch my back then... what about you... why are you here?"

"Let's just say I was here for something that didn't exactly work out." I offer honestly.

"That's a pity..." Sara offers, "...but the night is young and all that."

I cast my eye down her svelte slender frame swiftly then look back to her eyes which instantly remind me so much of her Mothers.

"It is..." I concur, "...although I was considering one for the road and heading for home.... Can I get you a drink?"

Sara glances fleetingly towards her group of friends who don't seem to notice us.

"Sure," she confirms with a disarming smile.

On pushing my way bullishly through the crowds between us and the bar, unconcerned by the etiquette of patience I eventually turn back to Sara who squeezes up close to me in the confined proximity of the warm claustrophobic space.

"What's your poison?" I enquire of her.

"A Cosmopolitan would be great please." Sara offers looking up as she's takes a step forward whilst another girl jostles away from the bar.

As I look down into her eyes I fight the urge and the sordid thought that crosses my mind.

Holding her gaze for just a moment longer before being interrupted by a red haired bar girl who hurriedly enquires on a soft Irish accent.

"What'll it be?"

**********

I stand alone in the gloom of my study watching out into the darkness of the street that's only illuminated by the soft orange glow of ornate street lights.

A solitary black cat slowly saunters across the quiet street before being startled into a faster pace as a vehicle turns into the road, a taxi, a silver Mercedes that slows to a crawl as the driver looks for his destination.

Stepping away from the window I cross the study into the hallway. Sophie's gentle snores echo along the hallway from the plush bed she sleeps in sat in an alcove under the stairs. She does not stir even as I step across the hallway towards the front door.

The gentle ticking over of the car's engine is audible from where I stand, punctuated by a car door opening and then closing. Moments later I hear the sound of spiked heels on the concrete steps that lead to the front door before a gentle rap of knuckles falls on the rear of the hard wooden surface.

Pausing for fractions of a second so as to not appear to keen I wait in the softly lit hallway. Her arrival had been pre-empted by the exchange of text messages some half an hour or so earlier the last message received having informed already her of my address simply stated:

•I'm on my way•

Unlocking the door with my left hand I press down the door handle with my right hand. Without invite and without any hesitation she steps in from the dark night. I close the door letting my eye fall over her.

A little navy denim jacket, covers the black cropped vest underneath, a pleated snakeskin effect short skirt covers the tops of her legs which extend clad in black fishnet hosiery to meet the black knee high boots which are complimented with a fierce looking silver spiked stiletto heel.

"The fuck was I waiting over an hour to get into a fucking nightclub," she offers on a sharp tone.

"I'm glad you saw sense," I softly state as I approach her.

She turns to her left and moves towards me. With surprising confidence, she steps forward and her left arm reaches up to fall around the back of my neck, I look down into her eyes, those somewhat familiar eyes.

As I hold my gaze she continues to press herself forward, my left arm slips around her waist as I pull her into the passionate kiss she places to my lips. The feint taste of sweet alcoholic beverages taints the taste of our kiss but nowhere near enough to deter me. As we embrace the intensity of her kiss, our kiss, only heightens.

Moments later I back her along the hallway towards the study door. In the doorway she breaks the kiss, as she looks up at me gently biting down on her bottom lip. I do not doubt the devilment or the intent within her dark sparkling eyes.

Both her arms wrap my neck as I back us into the dark study. My impatient mind already considering the long dark red leather sofa set against the wall to the right of the bay window.

Catching me slightly off guard she leaps up and wraps her slender thighs tightly around my waist. Kissing me once more intensely as my hands slip across the backs of her fishnet clad thighs and I hold her and kiss her back.

Moving assuredly, cradling her I turn my back to the sofa before stepping backwards whilst holding her svelte body. Feeling the sofa at the backs of my legs I hold onto her as I fall, as we fall, into a seated position that leaves her straddling me on the sofa in the darkness.

Pulling away from the kiss she hurriedly loses her denim jacket, pulling the tight garment awkwardly down her arms. In doing so she kneels. I glance up at her as she discards the jacket, she holds her knelt position as my hands slip up her thighs. My hands keep moving until they meet and gently press between her legs.

She bites her lip once more, then gasps in pleasure as I harshly tear open the fishnet material.

Her hands lunge for my belt which is unbuckled within moments, her slim fingers pulling apart the button waistband and fly of my jeans in haste. Her ferocity deliberately slows as she slips her right hand into my jeans and slowly pulls my fully erect dick through my wide-open fly.

Eye contact fleetingly made, eye contact that confirms desire in the absence of words. Shuffling her knees forward, keeping a grip over my length she slowly lowers her body. Positioning my dick as she slowly lowers herself onto me.

Her slow satisfied gasp on an inhale fills the room as I feel her press her body down onto me, the tight dry warmth of her cunt feels divine.

"What are we doing?" She finally whispers as she begins to buck and roll her hips upon my penetration.

I don't respond, as my hands slip under her vest top and over her firm young breasts her nipples stiffen at my touch as her hips begin to build momentum.

Sitting back against the sofa I let her take control, I let her give herself to me, I let her fuck me, fuck herself upon me as her wanton breaths build in intensity.

Sara Anderson fucks me as I press my hips up and press my dick higher into her perfect young body.

**********

"And I thought the perverts lurked at the night club." Sara softly states on heightened breaths of anticipation

Smirking I keep my eyes locked on her as she references our conversation of several hours ago.

Words spoken not long after we had met and before we had spent several hours in one another's company. She had captivated me, fascinated me, far more so than the sterile online date that had brought me to the bar in the first instance.

Over one drink that had become several drinks while she extricated herself from the company of her group of friends we had spoken as though we had known one another for years. I had been mildly disappointed when the allure of her friends heading off into the night towards their intended visit to the Dark Star nightclub had finally prised her from my metaphoric grip.

At the time it had seemed wrong giving her my business card with my private mobile number embossed on it. I'm glad now I had, the first message being received literally as George my Driver had dropped me back at the Town House.

As I stand before her I appreciate the twisted nature of the circumstance. The bed behind me on which only hours earlier I had made love to her Mother in. The sheets straightened out but not changed prior to heading out for the evening. That matter doubled down on the fact that her Father, Simon, was my business partner tainted my mind but did not deter my actions in any way.

"Are you calling me a pervert?" I respond to her insinuation.

"Everything might suggest so," Sara states on an unperturbed and mischievous tone.

Sara can no longer see the bed sat behind me, her vision restricted by the thick black leather blindfold that covers her eyes.

She had been reticent to being blindfolded, ironically nowhere near as reticent as she had been to the application of the silver steel handcuffs that hold her slender wrists in the small of her backs as she stands before me.

Stripped of her vest top she still wears the short pleated skirt, the ripped open fishnets and the delicious black leather knee high boots. Leading her upstairs following the delight of her earning my climax on the breathless energetic performance she had given straddling me on the sofa in the study.

Pure desire had led us to this moment, or perhaps my desire and her complaint nature.

Several lines of cocaine at the kitchen table washed down with Vodka and Cranberry juice may also have played Sara into my hands. Her glazed wide pupils now sat hidden under the tight fit of the blindfold. The second girl in my company in this room to be held in the grip of restraint.

My eyes cast from her to the contents of the wooden chest that lays open on the surface of the bed. A collection of purchased objects that had until tonight all remained unutilised.

As I glance back to the contents of the chest I set my attention on just one other adornment come restraint, to push too hard too fast might scare young Sara in the intensity of the accepted coercion that has transpired so far. Turning to take the object my attention is soon back on her as I remove my t-shirt and take half a step towards her.

Sara gasps gently as my left hand harshly squeezes over her left breast as she stands rigidly still before me. A pained little gasp passing her lips, a little gasp that's soon replaced by a shocked gasp as I pinch open the silver nipple clamp and without warning let it close tightly gripped over the erogenous stiff skin.

"Jesus..." she breathlessly offers. Causing an unseen smirk to pass my own lips as I press my jeans down from my hips and step out of them, leaving me completely naked as I kick them to one side.