The Scientist

Now there were no more questions: he had asked, and I had answered.

My head was whirling. I could not separate out this ridiculous,crazed thing inside me that wanted something more than anything; that did not even know what it wanted- from my, Sissy, the good friend, the docile daughter, the loving helpmeet I had hoped I could be to Bobby, whether he wanted it or not.

Now I couldn't see who that person was; what that person wanted. Because the new Sissy, she knew exactly what she wanted. Or at least, I could not have described it, but I wanted it more than anything I had ever known.

Both our desserts sat, untouched. I couldn't even play with mine; could not even lift the fork; it seemed to be in another universe to me,or behind a window. I swallowed hard.

"Leave" came the low voice. "Say you're leaving."

"Where should I say I'm leaving to?'

"I don't give a fuck"

He said it casually, but when I looked at him, he didn't seem in the least bit casual; instead, like someone very much trying to keep themselves under control.

"The upstairs bedroom if you have to."

"I think it's got children in it" I said, suddenly terrified and excited beyond words and what lay ahead. It was incredible to me that the entire room did not know what was happening; it felt like a cartooon; that there should be wavy lines coming off us, or the smoke of someone on fire. I was on fire. I stood up. My legs were unsteady. I do not know where I found my voice.

"Margie, that was so lovely" I said, sounding quavery. "But I have to get home."

Margie looked puzzled.

'For Bobby?"

"Uh, yes. For Bobby."

That was the worst thing I said.

A frown crossed her face.

"But we're going to play bezique!'

"Uhm,I know. I'm sorry. That dessert was delicious, will you drop me off the recipe?"

"I'll drop it off" said Carly, a wicked smile on her face. "I'll talk you through it."

I swallowed and thanked them, hoping against hope that my reputation as a colourless mouse would save me. And simultaneously giving not a damn if it would not.

Dick jumped up.

"I'll walk you" he said. "Can't let a lady out alone in the desert."

"Well, that's just great" said Margie, looking almost tearful at her party breaking up so early. "Are you coming back?"

"Very heavy schedule" said Dick. "But thank you so much, dinner was... it was one of the best I've ever had."

*

There were few street lights then; power was in short supply, plus many simply hadn't been built, as promised, on the compound itself. And people went to bed earlier; past 9, many houses were dark.

Neither of us said a word as we crossed the road, not touching, walking in parallel away from Margie's house, and the eyes I thought might be following us down the street, my heels on the cheap asphalt of the road making a noise like the clappers. I was breathless.

There was a children's playground by the edge of the next block, deserted most of the day in the pounding desert sun; busy only at sunset when the heat abated, but now once again rusting, deserted.

He did not press me, nor hurry me. He offered me his arm,and I took it, quite properly. He turned into the park, looking at me, saying nothing; an unusual state for such a voluble man. Then he found the thick wall of the shady park building, and pushed me, quite hard, up against it.

He looked at me carefully to make sure I was where he was.

I was so far beyond where he was, I think he was the last thing holding me up. This was not new to him. But this was a whole different, extraordinary world to me.

He kissed me, and it wasn't the dry, passionless, polite kisses Bobby used to occasionally give me, which were a little like being nibbled by a bird.

The was something entirely different: it was fierce; carnal, entirely invasive; it was one part of his body telling me what the whole of his body wanted to do; with some urgency.

At first it was shocking; completely odd and out of the blue: then I gave myself over to it completely: I was in it now, I reasoned to myself. I wanted to do it beyond anything on earth, so if I was going to do it, I was going to do it body and soul. Although truly I was beyond reason; far, far beyond.

And then, it was wonderful.

I kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness, then we were both, wrestling with each other, pressing up against each other, closer and closer. At one point, in abandon, I raised my arms above my head and let him pin them there, giving him closer access to me and my body, his knee between my legs.

Wild-eyed, out of breath he broke off eventually.

"You kiss like a girl who hasn't been kissed in a long time"

I stared straight at him.

"I've never been kissed like that" I said.

He blinked.

"We... you don't...I mean, it's not very gentlemanly of me..."

The breath was ragged in my throat.

"I don't want you to be gentlemanly"

He smiled at that. Then he cupped my chin in his hand.

"Oh Siss, you are so young."

"Too young" I said, as boldly as I was able, 'to spend the rest of my life without..."

Those eyebrows arched again.

"Where's your husband?"

I shrugged.

"He goes into the city, to Santa Fe... I don't know where he goes exactly. I don't ask."

He nodded.

"Is he home?'

I shook my head.

"I doubt it."

"Mm. Would you... would you like to come home with me for a little?"

I swallowed.

"What are you going to do"

He turned to him, mostly in shadow in the dark of the playground. I could barely see his face. He could be anyone. A shiver of excitement ran through me.

"I'm going to fuck you" he said. "Properly. Would you like that?"

I nodded.

"Yes please."

*

His rooms were tidy, clean but devoid of personality. There was not a single picture, not even of his ex-wife, which I assumed he kept somewhere private. There was a blackboard, covered in scribble that meant nothing to me, and a large pile of papers, and that was all. There were three rooms and a deck, and an enthusiastic labrador called Bongo, who greeted his master delightedly.

He took the dog out, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to leave a strange girl in his apartment. Perhaps it was, to him. I looked around me, and wondered what to do. I saw myself in the rainbow- rimmed mirror above the unused fireplace; I looked different. My green eyes glittered; my dark brown hair was a terrible mess from being pushed against the playground wall; my lips were parted and damp. I put my hand to my chest and unbuttoned the top loop of my dark green silk dress, the best I had for dinner parties. Then another. I couldn't believe I was being so brazen. I didn't dare turn on another light; made do with the small lamp he had lit as we entered.

I tried another. My brassiere was of the old sort; it tied with ribbons, and didn't yet have the taut engineering that became fashionable after the war. Bobby had never shown the least interest in my breasts: they seemed to be large for my frame, which was slender, but to think so was a little worldly, and I had paid them little attention.

The dog didn't come back in the house, I didn't realise anyone was there, till I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Jesus" he said, his tall frame outlined in the doorway. "Jesus, look at you. Look at you. You glow."

He crossed the floor in four paces. "God. Can I?''

I swallowed heavily. "I think" I said, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. "I think I should tell you I haven't really done this before."

He gave me that intense, quizzical look.

"What, ever?" he said.

"Uhm, nine times" I said. I didn't understand why this made him burst out laughing.

"Nine times" he said. "How long you been married?"

"Three years" I said, hanging my head.

"So, what, birthday, birthday Christmas?"

He was teasing me, but it made me miserable. I lifted my head, and he could see the pain there.

"Sssh" he said.

"He doesn't want to" I said, close to tears. "And I don't know what's wrong with me."

Dick shook his head.

"There is nothing- nothing- wrong with you" he said. "You have no idea how lovely you are. No. Poor old Bobby, it's not his fault."

"I know" I said.

"The world isn't very good at dealing with unimportant irregularities" he said and held out his hand.

"Come here" he said, and I went to him. He smelled of graphite and limes and carbon paper and I felt tiny in his arms. He crushed me to him.

"Shall we begin?" he said.

*

Chapter Two.

The bedroom was plain too, overlooking a small raked back yard. There was a large double bed with a white sheet, endless books, but nothing else. He turned on a small lamp on the wall which gave out a weak light into the room. Books lined the walls and the shelving; were piled high to the ceiling. I felt unbelievably nervous, although Dick was holding my hand. No: because he was holding my hand.

He smiled, slightly, and pulled me closer to him; dragged me straight up against him. After spending my life with a man who was diffident towards me at best, here,now, was absolute and solid proof of how much somebody wanted me: I felt his cock- although I didn't think of calling it that, not at all, not at the time, goodness, no: I was suddenly slightly horrified that a few hours ago I had gone to a dinner party, and now I was in a strange man's bedroom, feeling something extremely thick and hard through his trousers. This was not me.

He pulled me closer to him- he was not aggressive, but he was firm: put his hand under my chin and lifted it to him, so he could kiss me again. Then he sat me down on the bed and smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing" he said. "It's just very nice to look at you."

My lips felt puffy and tender, and I touched them experimentally.

"Take down another button" he said, his voice hoarse. I looked straight at him and did so, and he rubbed his own hand across his mouth. It was warm in the little room, although when darkness fell the desert became cold.

Suddenly, with a flourish, I whipped the circle of green silk up and over my head, pulling the dress off. The silk fell on the bed like a pool of water and his eyes followed it, wonderingly. Then back to me, and he shook his head in astonishment.

"Sissy Masterston" he said, shaking his head. "You are like a flower unfurling."

He moved forward.

"Everything in nature is beautiful to me" he said, as he lightly touched the ribbons - two strands of pistachio coloured satin which held the cups of my brassiere together in the middle. "But you, particularly so"

He held the ribbons then lent forward slowly, and, still fully clothed himself, forcefully drew out one of my nipples, and took it in his mouth.

He did not see my 'oh' of surprise; it was the most forward thing that had ever happened to me. So far.

He held and caressed it there, then lifted up his left hand to withdraw the other over the top of the my bra, although he left the bra on. He pulled it forward, caressing the nipple hard between his forefinger and thumb. I gasped. I had absolutely not known they could feel like this. The nipple was swelling, growing harder and longer in his mouth, as he sucked and pinched to a level almost painful, but it wasn't.

The lights of a lone car scraped the bedroom ceiling. I had absolutely no idea what was happening to my body. I was hot and cold; shivering violently, trying to cram more and more of my breast into his mouth. My breath was coming in harsh gasps, and sweat was popping out on my forehead. He noticed.

"Like this, huh?"

I could only nod, still trembling and he smiled and went back to his work, patiently, as if we had all the time in the world; as if he was completely oblivious to the tumult he'd awakened within me.

Gently caressing my face, and keeping his mouth and tongue occupied with my breasts, he started to move his left hand down the smooth flanks of my body. It caressed me everywhere; the curve of my hips; the flat of my stomach; grazing the top of my suspender belt. He felt down my side: we were still sitting at this point,face to face, and he nudged me backwards on to the bed.

"I'll take my shoes off" I muttered, worried about his sheets. They were black high heels with a peep toe and a little ribbon on the front; I rarely had a chance to wear them. He shook his head vehemently. "Keep them on" he said sternly.

His mouth moved up to my neck and he pressed closer. I wasn't sure what I should be doing, and said so. He broke off and smiled.

"Don't do a thing' he said. "Don't worry"

I looked at him. He was strong, powerful and handsome in the dim light; the most beautiful; the best thing I ever saw.

"How do you know what to do?" I asked, nervously.

"I like being good at stuff" he smiled.

Then he focused on me again, gently laid me down on the bed as my heart started to pound dangerously loudly. "And you are just so very very lovely, and I do not think you have been treated well."

*

He took a long look at me lying there, as if trying to imprint it on his memory. He had moved my knees apart so my legs had fallen open, quite naturally, and to my astonishment I left them there. My breasts protruded far over the top of the brassiere, the nipples rock hard; they felt incredibly tight. I felt flushed and red, and still could not control my breathing.

"Sheesh" he said, shaking his head. He took his trousers off, quickly. Now I could see it; huge, purple topped, it was straining through the gap in his boxers. I much have gasped when I saw it- it was far larger than, as far as I could tell, Bobby's, although I had never really seen my husband's penis; we were always in the dark. I looked at it curiously, and he grinned.

"Seriously?" he said. "You wanna see it?"

I nodded. I was hungry for everything tonight. He drew it out slowly, until now he was lying naked and I was still half-dressed. I saw the heavy pulsing vein on the underside; the huge bulging end of it. It didn't look like anything that would fit in me.

"Can I touch it?" I asked and he rolled over, groaning and smiling at the same time.

"You know what?" he said. "Not yet."

He propped himself beside me on his right elbow, and started, once more with his left hand tracing up and down my body, around now my bottom and the tops of my suspenders; now the inside of my thighs, gently, mercilessly up and down, closer and closer to the centre of me which now felt like it was on fire. As if completely separate to me, not controlled, I feel my pelvis twitch, move of its own accord towards him. I am pushing myself towards his fingers. Someone makes a loud gasping noise. I realise it is me.

His fingers carry on their slow tormenting stroking, up and down the inside of my thigh, ,and I am completely alive and desperate with need, everything in the universe centering on the place at the heart of me that he has not yet even touched.

I wonder now, I do. Was it easier then, before constant sex on television and that internet box; before sex was everywhere, being sold, repackaged, to teenagers as dance moves, to girls as clothes; before it seemed the whole world seemed to be pulsating with angry, joyless, airbrushed fuck- puppetry in the very air we breathe; was it easier then to overcome a woman so intensely, to be so incredibly exciting, simply because we were all so damn ignorant?

Truly, I am not sure. I think, unless you were very lucky, there must have been many more unsatisfied women then, because we did not- could not- know what to ask for, nor how. We were imprinted with shame.

But I also think there is no era in which he would not have been something very special: a man who liked women, who wanted to please them and had taken the time to work out precisely how to do so. He was a scientist to his very bones.

*

I tried to grab his hand, to force it to where it suddenly and urgently needed to be, and he smiled at me again, his eyes black and unreadable in the dim light.

"You are greedy" he said, but I could barely hear him, was no longer focused at all; something was happening to me; something new and entirely different and with every fibre of my being I could only follow it through to the end; needed to force it now to happen. He lifted his hand from my body, and I let out a huge sigh of frustration and anger, and he hushed me.

"Patience" he said. Then he looked at me once more, and then his thick long fingers touched me there.

My hips jerked as if I had been given an electric shock, bounced right up off the bed, as I cried out. My entire body was covered in sweat now, and down there was suddenly thick and heavy and damp, swollen and pulsating. He really did very little; ran the back of his fingers across the budded front, rubbed it gently between his thumb and his forefinger. but that was enough, and now I really couldn't breathe; was simply compelled to move.

"Please" I said, although I had no idea what I was begging for, not really, it was just random words coming out of my mouth. "Please."

He did it again, and I let out a completely inchoate cry, as everything started to rush, like the blood through my veins, and my vision got blurry and my hips started to pump.

"Well" he said. "This appears to be happening more quickly than I anticipated. Experimentation trumps theory, again. "

Quickly, he mounted me; rolled on top, covering me and I felt his heavy weight. Now our two bodies, slick with sweat, were pressed up against each other,and I could feel his heart beating just as heavily as mine was; his chest heaving just the same. I was still pushing my crotch towards him, desperately rubbing it on anything I could reach: and then he stopped me completely, in my tracks, simply by inserting a long, thick finger inside me. I froze.

To feel him inside my body: it was a stark and massive intrusion, his alien finger in itself filling my aching passage, and I twisted and contorted on it, even though it hurt me.

"Christ, you're tight" he said, breathlessly. "You're ridiculously tight. What the hell have you two kids been doing, playing poker?"

I couldn't answer; couldn't stop my hips now, they were writhing, beating to their own drum.

"Ssh" he said, kissing my neck, which was meant to calm me but only inflamed me further. "Ssh. Darling. My darling.'

His fingers- he had introduced another, stretching me further apart- were working, slowly, but steadily, as my face tensed as I accommodated them, and my hips slammed now, again, and again, on the counterpane.

He looked at me as I thrashed, on the very outskirts of control.

"Darling" he said, and he didn't sugarcoat it, and he didn't pretend it would be better than it was: he simply told me. "This is going to hurt."

"I don't care."

"Tell me to stop if it's too much"

"Just..." in my fever, I didn't know what I was asking. "I want it. I want it."

I kept repeating the words, and he opened my legs again, pulling them apart, further than I knew they could stretch, then he looked briefly at my satin knickers- french knickers, then, with the suspender belt over the top,and the stockings, of course, and still those ridiculous impractical shoes: then he simply tore down the seams of the knickers; one side and then the other, leaving me totally exposed to the cool desert night air, ripe and overwrought, the fine delicate hair utterly damp; fragrant and he kissed me there- there! something I had neither heard of nor contemplated; then he supported himself on one arm, and, deliberately, but not gently, not particularly, he teased my lips apart, rubbing me with his thumb as he did so, and forced the wide swollen tip of his huge cock inside.

That was it; that was all it took. My body jumped off a cliff: I screamed, I think, or made some noise at any rate, as he pushed himself in: and there was pain; my confusion was overwhelming. I had simply no idea what was happening to me; to my body; I felt like I was being ripped into a million pieces, and as the waves consumed me, tossed me up and down, again and again, he continued: drove up, more and more firmly inside me, but the extraordinary pain of this somehow mingled with the pleasure; prolonged it even as it spirited it away, so I came- as I realised it was,later, realised what was actually happening to me- but then, my mouth was a complete "oh", Dick said later, of total and utter surprise; as I came: unbelievably hard, for the first time ever, right on to that rock solid cock, again and again and again; the pain pushing me away and the pleasure bringing me back in like a riptide, and, seeing this happening, Dick had no reason to hold back, as he saw it, or to prolong matters- he was no show-off- and he thrust, heartily then, with all his might, joyously, again and again and again, grunting heavily and I could not seem to stop making these ridiculous noises too until with a great roar, he thrust so far up me I wanted to die, then his back arched, and something pulsed and pulsed inside me and I felt a great warm flood, and then I felt something warm too trickle down my face and I realised it was sweat, mine and his, intermingled, as well as something else I think might have been a tear; mine, I suspect.