Trials of Love Pt. 01

She hadn't been keen on me going with her, but I'd insisted, as we intended to go on to one of her friend's birthday party afterwards. We'd arrived together, but she'd quickly distanced herself from me. I stood and watched her. Soon I was experiencing a feeling similar to that suffered by wallflowers at school dances, standing at the side, watching all the popular kids enjoying themselves.

The worst point came when I saw her talking to a semi-famous musician and a critic, both graduates of the academy. I went over to join her, but she ignored me, and following her lead, so did the others. I stood there growing more upset and embarrassed by the second. Finally, I passed her the glass of wine she'd asked for earlier, said "Sorry," and walked away.

As I did so, the musician asked, "Do you know him?"

"Not really, he's just someone I see occasionally," Kayla replied. Her words cut through me, and I kept on walking right out of the building and into the chill of the night.

I'd made my way across town to my old pub and met up with a couple of old school mates. We'd got pleasantly hammered, and I'd ended up crashing on Tony's couch.

I left Tony's flat after his girlfriend had cooked me breakfast and headed home. I saw her as soon as I reached the top of the stairs leading to my lounge. She was curled up on my sofa, and it looked like she'd cried herself to sleep.

I wasn't sure what I felt about her anymore. I covered her with the blanket she'd kicked off at some point and kissed the top of her head. I stood under the spray of the shower until the water ran cold, forcing me to retreat. Wrapping a towel around me, I went into the bedroom.

Kayla was sitting on the end of the bed. Her eyes red from the crying, dried tears streaking her cheeks.

"I don't understand you," I said. "Am I your boyfriend or am I a passing fancy?"

"I love you."

"You have a funny way of showing it, and that wasn't the question, are we a couple?"

"Of course we are, silly."

"Then why don't you act like we are?" I said exasperatedly. "Why do you ignore me when we are out, like last night."

"But I don't really..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, what was it you said to the guy last night? 'He's just someone I see occasionally'. Do you know how much that hurt?"

"It didn't mean anything; I just don't want strangers and the press to know anything about our private life. So, if anyone asks about you, that's what I say."

It made no sense to me, and I said so.

She sobbed and said, "I won't let them break us up. If they don't know about you then they can't."

I sat down beside her and put my arm around her. "What aren't you telling me, love? Why are you doing this to me?"

Her tale was both simple, and complex. She was scared that the press, who'd always been interested in her extended family of world-class musicians, were now growing interested in her. At first, I couldn't see why this would be an issue

Her core reason to want to keep our relationship private was a gut reaction to the recent breakup of her Aunt Samantha's marriage, and that breakup wasn't the first her family had suffered recently. Samantha was fifteen years older than Kayla and a world-famous violinist.

Samantha's ex-husband was a university lecturer. They were teenage sweethearts and he had travelled with her in the early days, when she was touring. As he consolidated his career, he couldn't travel nearly as much.

As soon as Samantha began touring alone, the gutter press began speculating. Every time she was seen with another man in public, the world was informed that she was having an affair. Her husband just hadn't been able to cope with the pressure the constant speculation created. Ultimately, it drove him into a severe bout of depression and they finally ended up divorced.

Kayla vowed that wouldn't happen to us and the easiest way was to only let our closest friends and family know about our relationship. This was something about which she was adamant, I wasn't as convinced, and felt that our relationship was strong enough to survive any spotlight we would be under. Kay disagreed, and since I loved her and was afraid of losing her, it was just easier for me to agree. Once I'd agreed, I forfeited the option of forcing her hand.

She created two personas: one private, for our very close friends and family, and a public one. To the press, the public and her fans, she was Kayla Ortiz, the rising star of the classical music scene, a single woman who was dedicated to her music.

For me, she was my lover Kay. Two years later, she became the even more private persona who was Kay Ryan, my wife. We were married in a very small and extremely private ceremony on a private island in the Maldives. As much as possible, at her continuing insistence, we kept the two personas from meeting.

As her star was rapidly rising, becoming a world-renowned pianist, mine was rising, too, slowly, very slowly. A year after we first met, I got an agent and she was able to sell my second novel, a romance inspired by Kayla, to a publisher for a small, but nice advance. My publisher also snapped up a heavily re-edited version of my first novel. That led to a five-book deal. I could go part-time at the paper and concentrate on writing almost full time. My books have never been blockbusters, but they do sell in real numbers and with wise investment, we will never be poor.

As I wrote in several different styles, I created a pen name for each one. I wrote romance stories as Marion Peters. Sylvia James was the name I used for my more erotic ones, and Ryan James for my adventure novels. I, like Kayla, was somewhat shy of publicity and media attention; it was only as Ryan James that I would turn up as for the book signing tours.

The next few years saw us both continuing in the same way. We were rarely in the public eye together; the only exceptions were the events our agency held.

We were both using the same management company. It was one that the son of a very close friend of Kay's parents opened, with our help. His name was Stephen, and we were his first clients and silent partners. In fact, Kay and I owned sixty percent; we'd started out with seventy-five percent, but over the years, we'd let him buy more of the company.

Our current home was a penthouse apartment in New Orleans, leased in the agency's name. If we were visiting the same city, the company would book us two adjoining interconnected rooms or suites, and they were always booked in the agency's name.

To keep Kay happy, our secret relationship became a game with us. We were always asking each other the question, "could we meet in public without raising any suspicion we were more than nodding acquaintances?" The agency was notorious for the number of events it held or sponsored, and as their most valuable clients, we were, of course, invited.

Now that I know the consequences of our actions, I can't believe that I let our games continue as long as I did.

So, fast-forward eight years from our first meeting, which brings us back to the almost empty bar at the hotel and Kayla's arms wrapped around me. I passed her the glass of wine I'd ordered early.

"First things first," she said expectantly and held out her hands. I pulled the rings from her right hand and placed them on the ring finger of her left hand. This was our ceremony, which we did every time we'd been away from each other and in public for a while.

"Married again," she chirped, and pushed them home onto her finger

They were a continuing bone of contention between us. Both her wedding and engagement rings were made and designed by a close friend. They were very stylized, blending into each other, and could easily be mistaken for a piece of costume jewelry. I wanted her to wear them on the correct finger all the time, but she refused when she was in her Kayla Ortiz persona. I compromised and suggested that she wear them on the other when we were apart.

It took me a while to convince her. Oh, she was happy to wear them correctly when we were alone or with close friends, but not in her public persona. As a pianist, her fingers were long and elegant, but more importantly for me, both her fore, and ring, fingers on both hands were the same size, so, she agreed to wear our rings in the forefinger of her right hand when we were apart.

The act of transferring them from one finger to the other became a ritual when we got back together. It was her way of reaffirming her commitment to us. For me, it was a bittersweet moment.

She took a sip of her wine and grimaced as her phone buzzed. She'd placed it under her handbag and seemed reluctant to answer. She let it buzz several times before I went to pick it up. She picked it up first, looked at the screen and rejected the call.

"I told Laine not to call me tonight," she said. Laine was her assistant.

"You sure, it's late, and it might be important if she's calling now."

"It isn't," she said. Changing the subject, she asked, "So how come you managed to get in so early. I wasn't expecting you until much later?"

I smiled and said, "My lunch time meeting was cancelled, so I was able to get an earlier flight. I thought I'd see if I could catch you with your lover. Which one is it supposed to be now, by the way?"

She gave me a mock punch and said, "I thought I'd entertain the violin section tonight. They have such a delicate touch." She smiled at me as she said this, but for a moment, there was a flicker in her eyes that I hadn't seen before.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged off my concern, "I'm just tired; this has been a long tour, and I'm so glad tomorrow's the last performance."

That was the reason I had a ticket for tomorrow night, the final concert of what had been a full year of touring. We had decided that we were finally going to let the world know about our relationship. We were both going to take at least a year off, most likely two, and hopefully, start a family. Kayla would be thirty this year, and we had both agreed that we wanted children. She'd told me to expect a lot of demands on my body over the next few months.

The reception after the concert tomorrow was her last engagement of the tour, and I'd just finished the book signing tour for my last novel. We, or rather the agency, had bought a small country estate in Cornwall. Yes, we were coming out, but there was no reason to erect a neon sign for the paparazzi. We were due to be flying home to England in forty-eight hours.

We took our drinks over to a quiet corner, and she curled up against me. I pulled her close and stroked her long hair

Kayla Ortiz rested her head on my shoulder and then kissed me.

"I saw you in the audience," she murmured.

"I thought you'd seen me at the end, I saw the glance."

"No, I spotted you after the first piece; you know, when they raised the house lights for a moment when the conductor spoke a few words. I can always sense when you are watching me."

I smiled; that was the point when the woman beside me had started passing me bits of gossip about my wife. The affair with her music teacher at the Royal Academy of music before we'd met was the only true thing she'd mentioned. That reminded me...

"She did say one thing that intrigued me; the gossip mongers are saying you have a new lover. Is there something you want to tell me?"

She gave a silly little laugh, "Christ you know what it's like. I only have to be seen in someone's company and he's my new boyfriend." She gave me another long kiss and then studied my face. "What about you. Who's the new girl in your life I've heard about?"

I looked at her blankly for a moment.

"The redhead," she added.

Comprehension flashed across my face, "You mean Stephanie," I said with a smile. "She's Julia's new girlfriend and assistant, and I've definitely got the wrong set of chromosomes for her!"

"So, you've been with a hot lesbian couple since I last saw you. Have you got anything left for your poor neglected wife?"

I laughed, "For you, I always have something left in the tank." I gently caressed her cheek with the back of a finger. "I've missed you," I told her. I hadn't seen her for almost four weeks; sometimes our schedules were brutal.

She'd been very needy the last time we'd connected for a glorious five days. She'd barely let me out of the bedroom and jumped my bones at every possible opportunity. She had reluctantly left for rehearsals and two concerts, and she'd insisted I accompany her everywhere. I'd been surprised, but had enjoyed it immensely.

She gave me a kiss and murmured, "I do love you, I'll be so glad to have you all to myself. It's been a hard tour, and I don't think I want to see another piano for months. How's the new book going?"

"Almost done, just the last couple of chapters need to be polished. Janice sent me the edits today."

"Have you got anything planned for tomorrow?"

"Other than your concert and the reception, nope. I intended to keep you prisoner in the bedroom until you cry for mercy."

"I'll cry alright, but it won't be for mercy, just for more. Are you sure you want to come to the reception," she asked, rather diffidently. "You know it's just going to be a lot of stuffed shirts who I'm going to have to let monopolize my time. I hate it when we can't be a couple at these dos, I feel so guilty as it's me who wants to keep our private life out of the public eye."

That's odd, I thought; that's the first time she's not wanted me to go to one of her receptions. Even with all our precautions, we'd always found a moment for ourselves. My spider senses kicked in.

"Aren't we supposed to be making our grand announcement at the reception?" I asked feeling concerned.

She gave me an embarrassed glance, "I wanted to talk to you about that. My publicist isn't sure it's the right event for that huge an announcement. She thinks we should wait a few weeks and do a magazine interview."

"Hang on love, since when did we agree your publicist could make those decisions for me?" I said with a hint of steel in my voice. I wasn't happy, and she could see it in my expression. She knew how tired I was of denying our relationship. What had seemed fun, in the beginning, thinking of secret ways to show our affection, had quickly lost its appeal.

She held her hands out to me, "Please Pete, she knows what she's talking about. She's convinced that we will upset a lot of people if we tell the world that we've been married all these years. She's sure we need to control the way we tell the public. We've lined up an interview with Hallo magazine in a couple of weeks."

"Damn it, Kay, don't do this. I'm tired of hiding our marriage, I get the feeling you don't want me there tomorrow night!"

She shook her head and with tears in her eyes said, "I'm sorry; of course, I want you there, and I don't want you to hide away. I love you more than you can imagine." Then she added so softly I could barely make out her words, "Be close to me, I'm going to need your strength."

I nodded, "I'll be okay, I'll find someone to talk to. Maybe this famous pianist might come and say a few words to this impoverished writer at some point during the evening. I warn you, if anyone asks me about us I won't deny our relationship."

Kayla gave me a startled look, seemed to shake herself, then laughed.

"If you're sure you won't be bored then. What I do know that right now this famous pianist is going to take her favorite author back to her room and make him her sex slave for the rest of night."

That is just what she did. The door to the suite was barely closed before her clothes were scattered around her feet and she was tugging at mine. She let go of me briefly, as I pulled my polo off, only to pull my jeans and boxers off my hips and down my legs. I kicked them away, scooped Kayla up and carried her to the bed.

We fell onto the bed, laughing as we bounced. I gathered her into my arms as we kissed and caressed each other. Again, there was an urgency to our lovemaking that was too like our couplings at our last meeting. If this was what she was like after a few weeks' abstinence, then I should consider going away a bit more often. We strained against each other, racing to a strong mutual conclusion that left us both speechless and gasping for breath.

In that long pause as we lay in each other's arms gathering our breath, I sensed that something had changed between us. Her lovemaking had been more frenzied and desperate than I'd ever remembered.

"Is everything all right?" I asked.

She gave me a look that I couldn't define and pulled me close to her. "I just missed you; these past few months have been hard. Why did we agree to a year of touring?"

I caressed and kissed her and she gave me a cute little smile as she continued. "I've been bad; I threw away my pills last month."

"So, we may have..."

"I very much doubt it; it's probably far too soon, but next month my body will be fertile and more than willing."

She grinned and gave me a cute look, "Wanna do some more baby making practicing?" Without waiting for an answer she rolled on top of me, her hand sliding between us to grasp my rapidly firming cock. The little blood left in my body rushed to my groin, and my cock was aching it was so hard and throbbing.

She wriggled down until she could use her mouth on me. She licked and sucked, drawing gasps of pleasure from my lips.

"Hmmm, you are so tasty," she murmured between licks. "I dream of this, and I've missed you so much."

"God, that feels so good," I groaned as her mouth swallowed the crown, her tongue flicking over the surface. She gave me a blowjob that left me gasping and her, licking her lips. If it wasn't the best one she'd given me, it was in the top five.

As I slowly regained my strength, she kept lightly stroking my softened cock, who decided that he liked all the attention and began growing again in appreciation.

Kay grinned happily and gave me a long cum tasting kiss before swinging above me and spearing herself on me with a cry of satisfaction that morphed into loud groans of desire and need.

Having come several times in the past few hours, I knew I was going to last a long time. Kay took full advantage of this fact as she rode me vigorously to first one, then a second orgasm, squealing and shuddering each time as she came.

Her movements grew more languid and deliberate, and I felt the first urges of my own orgasm building up. I was pushing up into her with more urgency and she responded in kind. She was grinding her pelvis into me at the end of each of her down strokes, which ensured that my cock rubbed over her G-spot each time.

I gasped, "Gonna cum soon."

She moaned happily; she loved to feel me pulse into her. "I'm close; make me sing. Cum in me, love." She bent forward and whispered in my ear.

I reached up and pulled on her hard nipples, sending her over the edge. Her cunt clenched tightly, triggering my orgasm, and I pumped my essence deep inside her, grunting as I shuddered in release.

Spent, Kayla collapsed on top of me, looking and sounding like the cat that got the cream as she gave little throaty gasps of contentment. She licked and kissed my neck before settling down in her favorite post sex position; stretched out on top of me, my slowly deflating cock still inside her.

"I love you so much; promise you'll never leave me, Pete," she whispered.

"I won't, love."

She sighed happily and relaxed. A few moments later, I sensed she had fallen asleep and whatever had been worrying her seemed to wash out of her. I had grown to realize over the past few months that I couldn't go on like this much longer. I loved the woman I held tight in my arms, but this paranoia of hers over the rest of the world not knowing about our relationship had to end, one way or another.