LITMIR.BIZ

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eat and chat and chat. And chat and eat and drink as the wall I have carefully constructed to protect me from my feelings for him over the past decade crumbles more completely.

      ‘Can I ask you something?’ the voice beside me says.

      A flash of anxiety passes through me for a millisecond and I send it away.

      ‘Sure. What would you like to ask me?’

      ‘Do you ever do it back there, any more?’ I must have looked as confused as I felt because his hand slips under my crotch and gives a little push toward my butt. ‘You know, back there.’

      ‘Of all the things to ask! No, I don’t. Not since you anyway,’ I explain, not in the least expecting this change in topic.

      My arsehole must remember the feelings of the first time as it starts to react to our discussion.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Why should I?’

      ‘Alex,’ he says flatly.

      ‘This question thing is ridiculous!’

      He returns to the subject he wants to discuss. ‘But you loved it.’

      ‘You loved it and that’s why you did it. You were obsessed with it, ever since the butt plug night and still are by the sounds of it,’ I add.

      ‘But your body loved it.’

      ‘I’m not so sure …’

      ‘Oh, but yes it did. Your body loved it a lot.’

      He rolls me over on to my stomach and simply cups his hand over my leathered behind. Tingles immediately zap through my body as if to prove the point.

      ‘Well, it may have, eventually, but I didn’t,’ I say quickly, attempting to close the topic. Why is he talking about this?

      ‘Isn’t it one and the same?’

      ‘Obviously not,’ I reply.

      ‘Really? So you are actually admitting that your mind and body might be thinking and feeling different things?’ Oh, here we go, our age-old discussion …

      ‘Why are you trying to trap me with your words, Jeremy? Honestly, you are making me doubt every assumption I’ve ever made in my life this weekend. It is really disturbing me.’

      ‘Ah, this just keeps getting more perfect by the hour,’ he says, laughing with confidence.

      ‘I don’t find it even vaguely amusing, actually.’ I say nothing more in the hope that he will move on to another topic of conversation.

      ‘I’m only asking because I’m involved in some research that deals with exactly this issue.’

      ‘What, arseholes? And back door entry?’ Now it is my turn to chuckle as I consider exactly what this sort of research might have involved back at uni. No doubt Jeremy would have eagerly volunteered.

      ‘No, not arseholes, Alex,’ he says more seriously, then jokes, ‘Well, not yet anyway, but I am happy to experiment with yours whenever you’re ready.’ He strategically strokes my leathered behind. ‘More about that later. Right now, we need to get going.’

      ‘Oh, do we have to? The sun feels so good it would be lovely just to stay here a little longer and have a siesta, don’t you think?’ I settle into a sideways sleeping position.

      ‘It would be, but it is not going to happen. I’m not wasting my hours with you sleeping when we are on a time limit. I am making the most of every minute.’

      ‘How much more can we fit in, Jeremy? Drinks, baths, dinner, dancing, singing, sex, orgasms, breakfast, bike riding, coffee, skydiving’ — I say with great emphasis — ‘and now a picnic. Isn’t that enough for a week, let alone one day? We’ve already done everything. Let’s rest a little, just half an hour or so. There’s still plenty of time.’ I say the words although I’ve no idea how much time is left or where we are. I place my hand out to try to find him and pull him toward me but he has moved.

      ‘You haven’t changed, have you? There’s so much more to experience, to awaken within you and so little time.’

      ‘Isn’t skydiving the ultimate experience? I promise you, Jeremy, I feel well and truly awakened, probably more so than I have for many decades.’ My mind wanders back to this morning and the pulsing sensation reignites in my groin from the memories.

      ‘I can assure you, sweetheart, I have barely begun.’ He strokes my cheeks and lightly kisses my lips. Shit! Barely begun? What more is there? My heart starts racing — again.

      ‘There is an amazing innocence about you, Alexa, even after all these years.’

      I’m not sure whether to be offended or not.

      ‘We need to get moving now so we can rectify your innocence. There is no time to be lost.’

      ‘No. I’m not moving. What innocence? What are you talking about?’ I would never use that word to describe myself. I stay stubbornly seated.

      He completely ignores me. ‘If you’re not going to move, I’ll just have to do it for you. A man’s work is never done these days.’ He sweeps me up from the blanket, his hand firmly grabbing my arse in the process as if to reinforce our conversation. After taking a few steps, he places me on a warm seat, fastens a seat belt around me and readjusts the sunglasses to ensure they are in the correct position, once again ensuring I am utterly in the dark.

      ‘We’re in a car?’ The engine roars to life, as does the rhythmic, tribal trance music coming from the speakers and off we go. We must be in a convertible given the wind once again whips around my ears as we hit the open road. At least this will be a little more comfortable for the journey back to the hotel. Although on second thoughts, after a long bike ride, a plane trip, the parachute jump and now being in a car, I have absolutely no idea where we are or where we could be heading. We could have crossed state lines for all I know. My curiosity regarding our whereabouts is peaking, as I’m sure is Jeremy’s intention. Even so, I dare not entertain asking the question. So I sit silently, enjoying the psychological space the music freely offers my mind.

      Part V

      The eye — it cannot choose but see

      We cannot bid the ear be still

      Our bodies feel; where’er they be

      Against, or with our will

       — W. Wordsworth 1847

      Our journey continues and I am surprised at how energised I feel given my presumed emotional exhaustion. It is as if Jeremy has discovered and unleashed a fertile oasis within my body, which I’d previously regarded as a barren desert. The pores in my skin feel like they are oozing pheromones. I have never felt this intensely alive, so sensual, so sexual, so female. I consider my marriage to Robert as a contrast and my feelings are numb, almost non-existent. But how could they ever compare to the magnitude on the Richter scale that Jeremy creates — could anyone else create such emotional seismic shifts for me? My thoughts are interrupted by Jeremy’s voice as he places his hand on my knee.

      ‘Do you mind if we talk about some aspects of my research now, while we are driving?’

      ‘No, not at all.’

      ‘Just wanted to check, as you looked deep in thought.’ I shake my head to dislodge my feelings.

      ‘Please, I’d love to hear about it.’

      ‘Okay, great. As I mentioned earlier, there is a group of doctors and professors from around the globe collaborating to research the connections between physiology and cognitive neuropsychology in regards to sexual activity. I am now heavily involved as a result of my research into the explicit links between sex-related issues and depression. To cut a long story short, I had the good fortune

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