Julie Simmons nodded appreciatively as the house came into view. She turned to Victor Manners, who had slowed the car. “This looks rather special,” she observed, and the older man’s wrinkled face regarded her with a kindly smile.
“I thought you’d appreciate marketing a more up-grade property,” he told her. Julie had been overjoyed to be appointed junior partner of this well-established estate agency just three months ago, after several years with other smaller outfits.
Up until then, life had been crushing in upon her. A bitter divorce had been achieved twelve months earlier. Mike’s frequent infidelities and brutal manner had ensured that.
Anyway, the whole affair had left her with the belief that ‘you should never trust a man’. Fortunately, she had a couple of friends, both divorced, who agreed with her assessment.
The recent past, working with Vincent Manners and Clive Garrett, both in their early sixties, had been a pure joy compared with her past. She had been eased gradually into the business, and this visit was evidence of further progress.
“Remote controlled gates,” Victor commented as driveway gravel crunched under their wheels. “Left them open for us. That’ll be Mr Martin standing outside.”
Julie said enthusiastically, “God, that large window over the imposing front door. So impressive. Why’s he wanting to sell?”
“Something bigger hopefully,” Victor said, with a smile. “He’s an author, you know. Greg Martin, heard of him?”
Julie shook her head, although the name was vaguely familiar. Pulling up in front of the house, Vincent opened his door, as Greg Martin, walked towards them, a warm smile on his face. Julie was thinking, tall and looking trim in blue shirt and pants. There was only one fault—he was a man.
Out of the car, Victor shook Greg Martin’s offered hand.
“Good of you to come so quickly.”
Victor chuckled, “Where business is concerned, I’m very quick.” Then, as Julie moved around the car, he said, “May I introduce Julie Simmons, a new junior partner.”
Holding out her hand, Julie sensed some uncertainty on Greg Martin’s face. His eyes were taking in more than just her face. She didn’t like that. The look of a lecher. His hand held hers briefly, at least he did not grip to impress. “I’m looking forward to seeing inside the property,” she said, wishing to appear friendly. “It is very impressive from here.”
For Greg, something else was impressive from his standpoint. In recent months, as he worked on his next novel, he had paid little attention to good looking women, having no wish to be attracted. Just getting over Tania’s perfidiousness had been task enough.
However, meeting this Julie Simmons had set something ticking inside him, like some long-unwound clock. Under a flow of tawny hair, her rounded face had a glow and spark about it that suggested a lively spirit. Green eyes, allied to that tawny hair, wasn’t that cat-like? Her figure, trim in a navy skirt and waistcoat style jacket, open to reveal a white blouse, gently raised by the subtle push of neat breasts.
Did he really take all that in with one first glance? What was going on here? He could put it down to his long period of celibacy. No, he put his disinterest in other women down to his recovery from Tania’s wild sexuality. So, why this reaction to an estate agent?
Shaking all the questions from his head, he led Victor Manner and Julie Simmons into the house. She immediately produced a notebook from her small handbag and began making hasty notes as they moved from room to room. Greg frequently had to make a deliberate effort to keep from staring at her. She was so shapely.
“Have you a figure in mind?” The female voice tore him back to reality, and he was looking, slightly bemused, into those green eyes.
“Er—I – well -” Finding his voice he told them, “I paid nearly one and a half million just two years ago. I’d like you’re your present valuation.
Moving around the house, Greg realised that this Julie Simmons was the first female to be in the house since Tania. Was his fascination with her showing on his face?
In the main bedroom, Victor Manners murmured, “Mm, very cosy.” Julie Simmons concurred, adding, “Neatly decorated.” Greg was fighting off the image of Tania lying back naked on the bed, arms and legs spread invitingly.
To kill the image Greg strode over to the window and said, “The view over the garden is always relaxing.”
So, it went on. Room to room, the presence of a delectable female body alongside him brought so many unwanted images of Tania’s passionate influence.
The smaller fourth bedroom was their last viewing. “Narrow windows here,” Victor Manners commented.
“Not out of place for this room though,” Julie Simmons added.
Greg could only nod in agreement, as he recalled what others had told him after Tania had left.
“Yes, I like it,” Victor Manner said, as they descended the stairs. “Julie will consider a price for the property and contact you tomorrow. Then we’ll go ahead from there.”
In the large hallways, Julie Simmons turned to him, those green eyes doing something to his equanimity, “You live here alone, Mr Martin?”
“For the past ten months,” Greg told her, looking squarely into her face. All she did was lower her face to her notebook.
Victor Manners moved the conversation on by asking, “And are you looking to upgrade for your next property?”
“God, no, I don’t need this kind of space. Three bedrooms maybe, detached, modern.”
“On an estate?” Julie Simmons asked.
Greg looked into those eyes again as he told her he had an open mind about that. “Perhaps something more isolated.”
Having agreed to make early contact, first, with a proposed valuation, and secondly, with any suitable suggestions, Victor Manners and Julie Simmons walked out to their car. Opening the driver’s door, Manners gave him a cheery farewell wave. Julie Simmons climbed into the car without looking back.
Greg watched the car move away, taking with it a new image to fill his mind. Hell, the world was full of beautiful women. But he could not convince himself.
“A very pleasant fellow,” Victor observed as he steered the car out onto the main road. “A fine house, too.”
Julie tried to keep her thoughts on business, “I’ll have a value worked out for tomorrow,” she said.
“See if there’s anything in our properties that might interest him.” Victor said, adding, “A lonely man, and a successful author. A lovely catch for some lucky lady.”
Julie turned her head to see the little smirk on Victor’s face. “None of that, Victor,” she scolded. Victor, happily married himself, was often teasing about her unmarried state, but when told that her lack of interest stemmed from her bad experience with Mike, he always came out with the same reply.
“Okay,” he said now, shaking his head, “He’s your client. Sell his house for him.”
“Strictly business,” she said firmly.
“Julie, I would expect nothing less from you,” Victor said, as he negotiated a roundabout. “But you’re – how old?”
“See? The clock ticks on. Yes, you got hurt, but…”
“I know, Victor,” Julie sighed. “One frosty experience doesn’t make a winter. How many times have you…?”
“And I’m going to keep on,” he interrupted. “Like the old song, ‘You’re nobody ’til somebody loves you.’ Not your era maybe, but true.” And he went on singing the song quietly in his rough gravelly voice.
Julie looked out of the window, unwilling to have her thoughts turned towards Greg Martin. Why his lonely state? Because his woman had left him? Good for her. Probably escaping his lustful demands, just as she had finally done with Mike.
His eyes had looked lustful every time she’d glanced his way. At times they seemed to be boring into her, trying to read her mind. Even when he was behind her, she was uncomfortable. Very creepy. And she would be facing this until their business was settled. Having to be alone with him as he lusted after her, worried her.
Victor’s rough tones quietly rumbled on. He just wouldn’t give up, and, keeping her cool, Julie tried to shut out his vocal advice.
Crazily, it was those awful final months with Mike that plunged unbidden into her mind. At first, their intimacies had been acceptable. Occasionally, he could take her to a high, but more often he was too rough or uncaring about her pleasure. Pretty soon there were sure signs that her furrow was not exclusively ploughed by the horny bastard.
When divorce was already on her mind, his sexual demands became more unpleasant. No caressing, no foreplay, and for her, no pleasure, as, on occasion, she caught the stench of another woman on him as he imposed his filthy, degrading needs upon her. There was little doubt, Mike Simmons was a total bastard, and Julie had already moved to erase that surname.
Victor growled into the conclusion of his song, as he threw her a swift sideways glance.
No, Julie sighed to herself. Hell would freeze over before she’d commit herself to another man.
Having watched the car move out of the drive, Greg could not decide why he was feeling so distracted. That round, bright face of Julie Simmons, those green eyes, the tawny hair, were all locked behind his eyes. Yet her presence had triggered the memories of Tania which he had hoped he had buried.
Greg turned to return to the house. ‘Mini-mansion’ Tania had called it at first. Within eighteen months she had been talking about it being too small.
Greg shook his head now. Her sexual demands had him wondering whether he would have physically survived her libido beyond the two years they’d been together. That large window above the pillared doorway always recalled the time he returned from a book promotion, and, glancing up, he had seen Tania’s voluptuous naked body, legs wide, arms spread, red hair flaring, as she pressed her fiery bush against the glass, and smiled that constantly lascivious smile.
Captivated by her then, he was ashamed now, to admit that within minutes he had his rising erection buried deep into the heat of that bush, desperate to quench the fire that flamed there. Nowhere in the whole house was there a room where she had not instigated some eagerly demanding sexual activity.
Greg’s anger at her subsided eventually. He had known her sexuality could never be fully satisfied. Although her final betrayal had left him with an unfair sense of inadequacy.
He hoped for a quick sale, as living there had become unbearable.
Unwillingly, he went upstairs to that fourth bedroom with the narrow windows that could be easily blacked out. Greg stood in the doorway recalling what a drunken colleague had told him guardedly after Tania had gone. Almost apologetic, he talked of the ‘swingers’ party she had held. “Bare flesh everywhere. Especially Tania. In the ‘Black Room’ pairs could get together, always naked. Tania went in with two guys, who staggered out as though all the sauce had been sucked out of them.”
Now, Greg slammed the door and went to his office. Would he have kicked her out if he had known? Certainly, it would have spared him the unmanning circumstance of their actual split.
Sitting there at his desk, he couldn’t concentrate. That awful final episode which saw Tania flounce out of his life persisted. Starting with the unexpected phone message from Carl Sanchelle, entrepreneur and suspected gangster, saying he’d enjoyed Greg’s book and invited him to a small party he was holding on his yacht ‘Gargantua’
“Bring your good lady with you.” That should have warned him, especially when he expressed his uncertainty to Tania, and she would hear of nothing but acceptance. Later, Greg would know that the whole thing was a set-up.
When she dressed in her most revealing pale green gown, Greg should have guessed it was not meant to impress him.
Carl Sanchelle, tall, turning to fat, practically gave the game away, when he brought Tania’s hand to his lips, while his dark eyes ate at her nearly exposed cleavage. “Delighted to meet you, Tania. You look quite delectable.”
Much later, Greg would recall that he had never mentioned Tania’s name.
The evening looked like it might have been quite special. Champagne abounded, other guests, all from the wealthy end of society. Excellent cuisine. Then at some point, Greg lost contact with Tania. The Gargantua was more like an ocean liner than a yacht. To search for her seemed futile.
Around midnight, he saw people pouring into the lounge he had been shown earlier. It had cosy seats and a massive screen on one wall. Then an older lady someone wanted to talk about his book, and he was happy to respond. When she moved away Greg noticed the light in the lounge was dimmed, and the glow from the screen dappled the many watching faces, all wide-eyed.
Greg stepped inside the door and that’s when he saw Tania. Up on the screen in colour, her bright red bush glowing as she grinned at the screen. A naked, fat-bellied Carl Sanchelle, smiling lewdly, bent a willing Tania over a sofa.
Hearing his own voice yelling her name, Greg rushed out of the lounge and blindly flung open the next door along the corridor.
Sanchelle pulled himself out of the bent over Tania, yelling, “Camera off.”
Tania turned her head and yelled, “Oh, fuck off, Greg. This is what I want. I’m not married to you.”
That might have been the cruellest blow, but as he tried to find words, “Tania, you can’t—” hands grabbed him from behind.
“He’s sailing me to the Med tomorrow. This is real living, Greg.”
A fist was driven into Greg’s kidneys and gasping he was dragged off the yacht by some different route. Punches rained on him before he was dumped on the quayside. Pain was his only signal that he was still alive.
How he ever managed to drive home he could not remember. But Tania was gone from his life. And Greg had spent months castigating himself for his blind stupidity at not recognising all the signs.
One small consolation came some four months later. A newspaper pictured a smiling Carl Sanchelle clutching a lady with vivid blonde hair and thick lips. A caption read, ‘Rich socialite steps out with his future bride.’ Tania? Greg had little curiosity.
Standing up from the computer, he went to the window and tried to rid himself of negative thought by conjuring up the face of Julie Simmons. Standing there, he was delighted at how pleasingly definite her image remained.
Julie Simmons quickly settled on a price for Greg Martin’s property. That kept him in her mind. Her only concern was that regular meetings were unavoidable. Victor had requested that she handled this sale and try to find a new place for him. Worrying about how he had looked at her on their first meeting, she resolved it would be strictly business meetings. So, when she phoned him with the suggested price, she remained very formal. “Yes, Julie Simmons, from Manners and Garrett. I have a suggested price for your property.”
“Oh, yes, Julie Simmons,” he said, almost hesitantly, as though he had difficulty recalling her name. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you.”
Well, Mr Martin, even if you do have a deep manly voice, all you’re going to hear from me is a price. “I thought a figure of one million seven hundred and fifty thousand would be a reasonable starting price.”
“How about a drop to say one million six hundred thousand to complete a sale?”
Why was she finding this so awkward? “Then, yes, if that gets the sale.”
“Is that an estate agent view or what you would do as an owner?”
Was he teasing her? Or was it just her imagination? Well, she could play along with that. “A bit of both, I suppose.”
“Then I’ll accept your judgement.”
“Good, in that case, I’ll have it advertised immediately, and see how it goes. Thank you, Mr Martin.”
She was ready to hang up when he quickly asked, “Anything on the purchase side?”
Julie told him, “Nothing suitable at the moment.”
“Well, I’m relying on you,” he said, and Julie was sure that was a laugh in his voice. After hanging up, she found herself wondering what kind of look had been on his face. Had he really been teasing? And just why had that simple conversation bothered her? Anyway. she would get the advertisement out and take it from there.
It was two weeks before an enquiry came in. During that time Julie had scoured their lists for something that might be suitable for Greg Martin, but she had rejected the only three-bedroom detached villa because it was close to a railway line.
The house enquiry came from a middle-aged couple seeking a move up in the world. Julie was troubled that this would be her first encounter with Greg Martin since the first evaluation. How many similar visits had she made at other properties?
She had lost count, but the way Greg Martin had looked at her produced this reluctance. That look of lust in his eyes, wasn’t it? Whatever, she just felt uneasy about being with him, especially since she liked to arrive ahead of the prospective customer.
Having made a hasty, cool telephone call to fix a time with Greg Martin she set out to arrive just five minutes before the customer.
Greg Martin had it timed perfectly. Knowing when the first prospective buyers were due, he was looking forward to finding out how easy or difficult selling this place was going to be. But, more than anything, he was going to have the chance to see Julie Simmons again. The passing weeks had slightly faded the image of her in his mind. He was standing in the hall when the doorbell rang.
Quickly, he opened the door, and there she was, looking as he knew she would. The hair, the green eyes, looking slightly surprised at the speed at which the door had opened. “It’s so good to see you again,” he told her. “Have you time for a coffee?”
Greg had stepped aside to usher her into the house and was both shocked and disappointed when she, without looking directly at him, said, “It’s such a lovely day, I’ll just stay out here. The clients will be here soon.”
What had produced this coolness from her, and, if it was such a lovely day, why did she have her suit jacket buttoned up to the neck, disguising her elegant figure? He saw the client’s car appear on the drive, and within minutes Julie Simmons was efficiently showing the couple around.
Her cool detachment and avoidance of any socialising with him continued for two of the three further viewings she conducted. Every time she arrived, Greg’s heartbeat increased, but what began to bother him was his own behaviour. If he was so attracted to her, what was preventing him from making some standard friendly approach himself? But he really knew the answer to that one.
Julie Simmons had so captured his imagination that because of her apparent coolness, he feared to make a move that might increase the rift that she had already placed between them. However, by the third viewing, he determined to make just a token gesture of goodwill.
On that occasion, he had felt that, at least, her wonderful green eyes met his more frequently, although she remained buttoned up and coolly asexual. As she followed the viewing pair out, Greg made his move and held out a copy of his book.
“I don’t know if you’re a reader, Ms Simmons…”
“Call me, Julie.”
Now, was that progress? “And I’m Greg,” he said as if she didn’t know that obvious fact, “as it tells you on the cover.” He held out the book with a smile, “If you’d care to read it sometime.”
Standing in the doorway, she hesitated, looking at the offered volume as though it might be a bomb. But then, she held out her hand, and took it, with a quick nod and a brief, “Thank you.”
Then she was away, leaving Greg unsure whether he had made any real progress, but at least they were now on first name terms. That had to be progress. But would she ever read the book?
In fact, Julie was an avid reader. She was also a slightly confused lady. From her initial decision on the type of male Greg Martin would be, he had shown no indication of moving in on her. The gift of his book was the only gesture he had made. In fact, her own relaxed attitude had prompted her to exchange first names. Of course, he’d had no need to indicate his name on the cover of the book. From the outset, he had been only her customer, Mr Greg Martin.
Arriving home, she placed the book on her bedside table. For the first few nights, the vivid green cover kept catching her attention, but she was set to finish another book. She resolved that Greg Martin’s book would be next. It might reveal more about the nature of the man.
After another unsuccessful viewing, Julie sensed that Greg was dying to ask about the book. Deliberately, she avoided making any comment and acted out her coolness to him. That was when it occurred to her that was exactly what she was doing. She was ‘acting it out’. Did that mean she didn’t really feel cool towards him? Damn that, she thought, she had to continue to be cautious.
After two weeks, she picked up the book, and began reading, hoping that she would learn something about him. From the start, she was impressed. His prose was terse and the chapters short, always leaving her wondering what happened next.
There was only one real sex scene. Early In the book, a drunken young lady offers herself to the hero. To Julie’s surprise, Greg’s hero lectures her on saving her body, ‘as a gift for someone you love.’
The sex occurred in the final chapter, where the hero and the lady he has longed for throughout the story, are finally together in a hotel room. Reading was sure that of them standing and viewing each other’s naked body, Julie was certain that now Greg’s writing would reveal tell her something about his lustfulness.
Julie was quite stunned to find the love scene written with such delicacy. Even with intimate detail, every touch, every lick was written with such gentility, such genuine warmth of feeling. When the hero eventually entered the lady, the deed was so subtly presented, his caring, tender, thrusts were clearly aimed at giving his lady maximum pleasure and delight.
It was so gently erotic that Julie was shocked to find that between her thighs had moistened. How long since she’d experienced that sensation so readily? Never, with a book. Seldom with any man.
With a sigh, Julie closed the book, and lay back, with her mind full of questions, about herself, her twisted sexual experience, and her attitude to this Greg Martin.
Briefly, the degradations she’d suffered from Mike impinged into her mind. Get out of my head, you bastard. Was it any wonder she was cautious about all men? However, as she drifted into sleep, she took with her an image of Greg Martin, standing in his front doorway, smiling, and inviting her in for coffee.
After a gap of four weeks, Julie phoned to say there was a lone male buyer interested. Greg had the front door open before she’d mounted the steps. Immediately, he sensed a change in her demeanour, but was cautious, not trusting his own, variable imagination. Yet, as she came up the steps, wasn’t that the warmest smile she’d ever bestowed on him?
Another bright summer day and her suit jacket over her arm revealed how her breasts swelled a pale blue blouse. The very sight of her took Greg’s breath away, and once again he made his standard offer. “Coffee?”
“That would be nice,” she said, and she was looking straight at him, as his knees went weak. God, could this be true? In the large kitchen, she sat at the table while he tried to muster the best coffee ever.
When they were sitting facing each other, Julie apologised, “Quite honestly, I’ve found nothing that meets your criteria.”
Greg shrugged, “Well, that’s less of a priority while this place is sticking.”
Sitting there, he was thinking, ‘God, she is so beautiful. You really have to push on, Greg Martin. She is more relaxed with you.’
The door-bell broke into his thoughts. This client, a tall man, dark hair lightly grey at the temples, instantly got under Greg’s skin, just from the way his eyes roamed up and down Julie’s body.
Moving into the hallway, Greg said, “I’ll come around with you.” And he caught Julie’s look of gratitude.
“That won’t be necessary,” the man said, with a lewd smile in Julie’s direction.
“I think it will,” Greg told him, and, consequently, the tour became very swift. The viewer left inside twenty minutes.
Greg looked at Julie frankly, “I’m sure he was more interested in you.”
Julie’s lips were tight as she said, “His eyes had my clothes off at least three times.”
“Four,” Greg said, with a smile to lighten the mood.
“He came in yesterday. Asked if I would show him around personally.” Julie glanced at her watch, looked at him apologetically and said, “Oh, I have another appointment. I must fly.”
At the door, she turned suddenly and said, “Oh, so remiss of me. I read your book, and I thought it was terrific.”
“Terrific?” Greg laughed. “You’re the first one to use that word for it.”
“I really couldn’t put it down. Thank you for showing me.”
When she had gone, Greg felt a greater emptiness, given the way their relationship seemed to have lightened. He had to make greater steps towards getting to know her better.
He didn’t have long to wait. That meeting had been a Friday, and the following Tuesday morning, she phoned to say there was a property he might like, but it could only be viewed later in the afternoon.
Every time he saw her was a new experience. Greg knew very well that he was well and truly hooked on this lovely lady. Now all he had to do was to woo her like a bold knight of old. Oh, yes, that was all. Some hopes.
The property turned out to be less than attractive and as they reached their cars, Greg knew that now was the time to make his move. He glanced at his watch before saying, “The Willow pub serves a good meal and I’m due to eat,” Greg drew in a deep breath before asking, “Would you join me?”
Her look at him had a momentary uncertainty in it, then she smiled and told him, “I know the Willow. That would be very pleasant.”
For Greg, her acceptance was like hearing that there was a Santa Claus.
Accepting Greg’s offer had been no real problem at all for Julie. Her momentary delay in responding to his suggestion had been pure wilfulness. Even though she had few doubts about him, she felt that caution was still needed.
Just being in his company as they’d viewed the house had told her something about herself. Julie Simmons had moved in one very short step from being a declared man-hater to having a sense of warmth about a man whose intentions she had initially feared. She was one very confused lady.
Over their food, they talked, and Julie found that, what had once chilled her, she now found pleasingly complimentary, as he looked at her. Did she imagine her blood pumping faster? Julie told him of a couple she would like to bring around on the following day. “They’ve driven past your house and might be keen. But don’t build up your hopes.”
With the meal finished and as Julie downed the last of her cider, Greg asked a question which helped her into the query she had wanted to make about him.
“Are you married, Julie?” His question was tentative as though he might be worried about her answer. Without any detail, she simply told him of Mike’s frequent infidelities.
His response to that made her heart give an extra thump. “Some men just don’t appreciate when they’re well off.”
To cover her pleasure at that, Julie quickly asked, “Your wife left you?”
His eyes looked briefly saddened, “We weren’t married. But we’d been partners for two years. She talked me into buying the house.”
“Yet she left it? A famous author, a beautiful house…” Julie checked, feeling that she was being too inquisitive. For a few seconds Greg gazed across the pub, and she was sure he was considering what to tell her.
Eventually, he leaned across the table and, told her the basics of his time with Tania He paused, before drawing in a deep breath and adding, “Plus, she was a highly-sexed lady, and I guess, I didn’t come up to her demands.”
Wow, Julie thought, that was quite the opposite to what she had theorised about him. In a way, she almost regretted having him talk about it.
She changed the subject and admitted she lived only one mile from ‘The Willow’
“Only another mile from my little cottage,” he joked
“Some cottage,” she said, and it was good to sit there and laugh together. Strange sensations were beginning to disturb her whenever she looked at him.
Out on the car park, as she wondered if they might kiss, Greg, his dark eyes firm on her, took her hands in his, gave them a quick squeeze, before saying, “Thank you for a very pleasant evening.”
“I’ve enjoyed it. And tomorrow might be hopeful.”
A kiss had been in Greg’s thoughts, but fear of mistiming his approach to Julie held him back. Holding her hands for a few seconds was something of a treat. Their verbal intimacy in the pub had prompted him into being able to say something about Tania. Not seeing her until one o’clock on the following afternoon, left him feeling very impatient.
When that time did arrive, it was with an initial sense of disappointment as the two viewers drove up at the same time as Julie. There was little time for anything other than quick introductions to the two prospective buyers.
He had become pessimistic about these viewings, but to his surprise, this younger couple seemed very enthusiastic. Greg was delighted to see Julie’s green eyes looking bright and hopeful.
She told him that they wanted to go back to the office with her. A very positive sign. It was at four thirty that his phone rang.
Julie’s afternoon had been very satisfying. The lady had been so enthusiastic the whole time, while her husband only nodded his head, and said, “Whatever she wants.” Deal closed, Julie couldn’t wait to phone Greg.
When she told him, she delighted in the way his voice rose as he said, “Julie, you are a wonder. Will you let me take you out for a special celebratory dinner tomorrow night?”
Just a little taken aback, she could only stammer, “Oh, honestly? Where–?”
“How about Calluccio’s?”
“The best – for the best.” And Julie thrilled at the fervour in his voice.
Overwhelmed and just a little dizzy, she quickly agreed and gave him her address so that he could collect her by taxi since there might be a little wine drinking.
Putting down the phone, she saw Victor watching her, his eyes wide. “You have the look of the cat that got the cream.”
“We’ve sold the Martin place.”
Victor tapped her on the shoulder, expressing his delight. “Is Mr Martin pleased with you?” The old eyes were teasing.
“He wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night.”
Those wicked eyes looked at her seriously, “You refused, of course?”
“Calluccio’s. Wow!” Victor gave a thumbs up gesture before turning away, and she heard his rough voice singing that love song.
Had he been right all those weeks ago?
A fine warm evening. And it was a delight for Greg just to be sitting in that cab, next to the image that was Julie Simmons, stunning in a dark blue dress. His comment, “You look so elegant.” Seemed so inadequate.
Calluccio’s was all sparkling chandeliers, waist-coated waiters, gentle music, and glorious food, was brightened, Greg believed, by Julie’s dazzling presence.
Together they chose tiger prawn starters and agreed on a shared boeuf bourguignon main course. A bottle of Chablis was at Julie’s request, as she completed the talk about the afternoon’s deal.
As they ate Julie told him about a property, new on the market, that could be viewed on the following day. The evening just flew by. Delicious meal, gorgeous company, were the bounty for Greg.
They talked and laughed as the evening wore on. The wine was well down, and Greg could tell that they were both high. At one point as they laughed Julie reached across the table to touch his hand. Did the wine cause that?
The wine probably started Julie revealing her husband’s unpleasantness, and that had triggered his admission about Tania.
Julie already knew about her sexual intensity, now he told her about Tania’s final betrayal and his belief that was prearranged. He almost enjoyed the shock in Julie’s eyes as he recounted that final rejection of him and being thrown off the yacht.
“And you haven’t seen her since?” Greg wallowed in the sympathetic look in those green eyes.
“Not a sight,” Greg told her, adding how seeing Sanchelle’s picture in the newspaper had been a panacea.
“So you don’t know where she is?”
“Somewhere in the South of France, I guess.”
“What will she be doing?”
”Not singing for her supper, I’ll bet,” he chuckled, and it was wonderful to hear her laugh ringing out.
Side by side in the taxi home, Greg half turned towards Julie, and whispered, “I have had a wonderful evening in your company.”
Julie’s reply was as he’d hoped, “It has been so good for me.”
Her eyes were on his, her lips were slightly parted, and Greg was pretty sure that a gentle kiss would be in order. Carefully he placed his lips against Julie’s.
For Julie, it had all been dream-like, and Greg had been so open in talking of his past.
In the taxi, as Greg’s lips moved towards hers, she felt herself fill with desperate eagerness. As their lips touched, she knew he was being deliberately gentle, as in everything so far. The wine or her own deprived libido? Whatever it was, she needed to press closer and mesh her lips more forcefully on his.
Greg’s immediate response made the kiss much wilder, with a quick flutter of tongues. Julie found herself quickly enveloped in his arms, and their kisses were even more passionate, moistly warm with their tangled, searching tongues. Julie ran her hands over his chest and thrilled to Greg’s hands rubbing over her back and shoulders, sending blood coursing faster through her veins.
But Greg was holding back when she longed to be touched more deeply. How things had changed. His right hand was just under her armpit, and, with a sense of devilment, she twisted her body so that his hand was covering her silk-clad left breast.
Greg’s hand came alive, sending charges of electricity down into Julie’s insides. That hand smoothed and caressed over her. He had guessed she wasn’t wearing a bra, as his fingers began squeezing her nipple, lighting tiny fires deep down inside her. The longing to have his hand reach her thighs stunned her. She had never been this avid. Or could it possibly be the sheer abandon Greg promoted in her?
That was the moment that Greg broke the kiss to place his lips to her ear, and murmur what she later considered magic words. “Julie, I have longed for this from the moment I first saw you. Didn’t you notice the way I looked at you?”
With a little giggle, she replied, “I thought it was simply lust. Like that guy who pretended to be viewing?”
“Not lust – adoration.”
Julie’s heart was pounding and sending out signals to every part of her body. She reached out intending to place his hand on her thigh, but then the driver called, “Twenty One, Thursby Avenue.”
Julie pulled back and looked into Greg’s face, “I would, now, if you demanded. But I need to know it’s not the effect of the wine. I want it to be perfect if it’s going to happen between us.”
If Greg was disappointed, it didn’t show. One last tender kiss, then, uncertainly, Julie opened the cab door saying, “Thank you, Greg. Tomorrow, one thirty at our offices.” She left without looking back.
Greg slept fitfully that night. Such a night. So much promise. Their clinch in the taxi had been unbelievable. Had he been too cautious? With Julie twisting her body so he could fondle her breast. His belly twitched at the thought of her nipple stiffening under his fingers.
Dressing carefully in a sports shirt and thin slacks the next day, he looked forward, not to seeing a prospective new home, but to having Julie succumb to him. Promptly at one thirty he drove into the Manners and Garret car park, delighted to see her waiting by her own car.
More deeply pleasing was noticing that she was wearing a pale lemon, front buttoning summer dress exposing her tanned arms, not her formal gear. But, as he greeted her with a cheerful, “Hello,” he was disappointed, when, without returning his smile, Julie gestured towards her car.
She said, “Good afternoon, Mr Martin. Good of you to be on time.”
He had half-expected, no, hoped, that they would be hugging as soon as they were in her car, but she said, without any sign of humour, “This is strictly a business trip, Mr Martin.”
Mr Martin? No point in causing aggravation now. As she drove out onto the road she explained, “The owners of this property, the Pearsons, are away for the next few days but left the keys. That’s why we’re in the one car.” Then, without any trace of a smile, she added, “Otherwise you might have got lost.”
I’m lost now, Greg might have replied, stunned by her coolness, when he had been expecting a new warmth. Then, she shocked when she said the property was a bungalow. He had never considered a bungalow, but he said nothing. “I’m told that the spaciousness is amazing,” Julie said, without the least sign of dropping her businesslike attitude.
Greg caught sight of the sea, and then, at a junction on the left, there was a dead-end sign, and Julie turned onto a narrow lane. A short drive and he had his first sight of the bungalow. He had to admit at first glance it was striking. A wide frontage faced inland with an extensive area of grass in front of it.
They left the car and Julie led him around the whole building before going inside. Immediately, Greg could see what a fabulous view there would be, but he was still confused by Julie’s attitude.
Julie’s information about the interior was correct. Every room had so much space. The kitchen was huge with a central workspace. Even what had been an office had floor space despite a large desk and a massive bookcase.
Wonderful views through a large window, or French doors, enhanced every direction. Back in the wide entrance, Julie faced him, challengingly. “Well,” she asked, her face looking rather severe, “was I wrong?”
He looked into those lovely eyes and said, “Julie, it is marvellous.”
Greg was immediately overjoyed as Julie’s coolness was discarded like an unwanted cloak, and she flung her arms around him, “Great, my role as estate agent is now over.”
The kiss she delivered was highly charged and Greg clung to her, his relief at her change lifting him. Breaking the kiss, he asked, “So this hour has been a tease?”
Eyes glowing, she said, “A set-up, and not over yet.” Smiling, she said, “Now, take a lone walk around the place, every room, before you commit to a final decision.”
An unexpected instruction, but Greg willingly pleased her, although already positive he wanted the bungalow. Slowly, he judged every room, ending up in what they’d already identified as the master bedroom, with its king size bed. Greg leaned his arms on the windowsill to gaze over the vast blueness of the sea.
Julie’s voice at his elbow startled him, but he kept looking out to sea, as he said, “You haven’t told me the asking price.”
“Just under one million,” her reply was prompt.
“Sounds reasonable,” he told her, without looking at her. “Only one thing wrong with it.”
Her voice sounded worried, as she asked, “What’s that?”
Slowly turning, he said, “Would I have to live here alone?”
Her relieved smile was dazzling. Then her voice, slightly husky, asked, “Might I tempt you towards a decision on that?”
The next second they were clinging together, and, as their lips met, Julie’s body pressed hard against him. Holding her tightly for a moment, Greg eased back, to encourage mutual clawing at each other’s clothing. Reaching the last dress button, he pushed the garment from her shoulders.
With an erotic wriggle, Julie helped it on its way to the floor. There was no bra, and Greg, while Julie fumbled at his belt, felt her tremble as he stroked her shoulders and down over taut breasts, where the nipples were already stiffening. Her moan gratified him.
Julie knew that she was heading for the heaven she had craved. Greg’s hands on her body had already moistened her eager crease. Last evening, after reluctantly breaking away from him, she had thought of how she wanted this day to go.
Her fake businesslike approach and her eventual surrender were all part of it. She felt so wanton, and that delighted her.
Now, having pushed Greg’s shirt from his shoulders, she fumbled at his belt. His fingers on her nipples made her blood flow with electric sparks that coursed down to her lower body. Amazingly she had been hoping for gentility, yet now her own long deprived libido was craving wilder action. Greg’s hands were sliding under her panties and easing them down.
Desperate to keep pace, she unbuckled his belt and tugged at his pants which dropped away immediately. Julie pushed at the waistband of blue boxer shorts, which snagged on a not unexpected bulge. Pulling the waistband wider, she lost her hold on his boxers as they fell away. She could sense her panties at her ankles, and simultaneously, along with Greg, she performed a wriggling dance to be rid of them. They were together, naked.
Now Greg broke the kiss, took her hands and leaned back so that they could each view the other’s body. His erection, purple headed, pointed at her, without menace.
“Just like in your book,” she murmured. The very book that had begun to change her mind about Greg.
“That was fiction. You are a sensuous reality,” Greg told her. His eyes were a special caress passing over her skin. Those eyes lingered on her bush, and she crazily wondered if he could have any idea what waited for him behind that delicate shrub.
Once more her eyes took in his solid hardness bursting from a surround of black hair. God, she so needed the penetration that was coming. Needed it to be comforting as well as exciting. It had been so long.
Greg whispered, leading her towards the bed, “You are so beautiful. Do I really deserve this favour?”
“I don’t do this for all my clients, you know,” she said with a lightness that surprised Greg. “Think the Pearson’s mind us defiling their bed?”
With his hands on her shoulders, Greg carefully eased Julie back onto the bed as he said, “We’re going to give it an experience it has probably never had before.”
Moving over her, Greg slid one arm behind her head and pressed her body to his. They kissed with initial restraint but as his hand caressed her breast, Julie’s tongue darted into his mouth and set sparklers bursting around his inner cheeks. Greg’s deep intake of breath through his nose caught the full lavender aroma of her. This lady, set to become the centre of his life, was, at that moment, the focus of his desire.
Now, he would proceed with the caution she was probably expecting, having read his book. Well, he could make it like that, couldn’t he? Fingers, mouth and tongue, they would be his tools to achieve his aim of giving Julie the best climax he could.
Accordingly, he broke their kiss, and his lips moved lovingly over her neck, her shoulders and his tongue took up the caresses as his mouth moved over her breasts. Her little yelp of pleasure was a rewarding start.
Julie’s body was already alight when Greg’s lips and tongue began working at her breasts, and she could not restrain her cry of pleasure. His controlled sucking of her nipples sent urgent messages into her deeper parts, and she knew her thighs had parted, wanting him, needing him. Nothing in her memory recognised these reactions.
Madly, his delicate tonguing of her nipples did not seem enough. Some weird, long dead desire wanted to feel his teeth gently gnawing there. Where had these urges sprung from? Now, without stopping his mouth’s service on her breasts, his free hand had slid down and was slowly, very slowly, circling over her belly. The movement was so subtle, but so obviously, closing in on her bush.
Yes, yes, she wanted that, but she was becoming so desperate for more. Was she imagining it? Or were her inner walls pulsing, eager for invasion? Greg’s fingers reached and rustled through her bush, as though searching for something. The sensations he was creating inside her were worrying. She was needing every possible lascivious experience.
God, how selfish was she being? Her hands had stroked his shoulders, his back and chest. How was it, with her channel crying out for something wild, how was it that she hadn’t tried to touch his erect cock. ‘Cock?’ Now there was a word she had rarely used, but that implement was pressing hard against her thigh.
She shivered as Greg’s hand slid lower from her bush but moved beyond her soaking crease to stroke with such affection along her inner thigh. His tongue continued to coax her nipples to maximum firmness, as she reached down and touched the hot head of his erection. Greg shuffled his body slightly to enable her to gain a firm grip.
His hips gave a little jerk so that his solid member moved within her grasp, as though her hand was the target of his need.
Greg’s stroking of her thigh had moved higher and higher until the moment came when she knew his fingers had fluttered into the wetness that abounded in her cleft. As he lingered there and began to move from back to front, Julie sensed a great rising of heat, an unbearable heaving inside her. Her fingers tickled at his hardness, but then he slid further down the bed so that he was out of reach, his face pressing into her belly, while his fingers continued his delicate stroking along her soaking crease.
“What are you doing to me?” she sighed.
“Learning about you,” he replied, wriggling his fingers into her moist folds. “I need to know what gives you the greatest pleasure so I can go on applying that.”
“You give me the greater pleasure than – oooh.”
Her broken sentence was the result of Greg’s finger touching her clitoris, which was already well risen under his encouragement,
Julie’s breath was delightfully short as she moaned, “You’re spoiling me.”
“No, you’re spoiling me by just being on this bed with me.” And he moved his lips down to take over from where his fingers were on her clitoris, and his tongue took up the action.
“Oh, God, Greg—you’ll make me—oh—”
Greg trailed his fingers back to stroke her royal entrance, tracing around it before poking one finger deep into her. He knew where he’d learned this move but had to give Julie the maximum he could. “All right?” he asked, moving his tongue briefly from her clitoris.
“Stop and I’ll kill you,” she hissed. “See, you’re making me selfish.”
“If you are selfish for what I’m doing to you, then that is all I could ask for,” Greg said fervently.
Julie was in raptures, and just a little uncertain how this was going to end. She was sure that his tongue would bring her to climax and now – Oh, God—he had introduced a second finger inside her.
Her brain was fizzing with wondrous images as Greg continued his gratifying exploration of her most sensitive regions. As his fingers twisted inside her, she knew that her body was demanding something deeper, something even more compelling. She knew there was only one way for that to happen, but at that moment he withdrew one of his fingers and allowed it to slide further back.
Further back? Where was it going? The next instant she felt him touch around the tight ring of her anus. That was all it took.
She heard her own voice squealing, “Oh, please, Greg, into me. Part me, split me…”
His reaction was instant, he was up, over her. Then very gently he poked his erection just one inch into her cavity. Her instant moan and jerk told him that she was not far away from her climax. Her gasping breaths had already signalled that. Another push, another moan, more high-pitched this time. Being inside her moist eager passage was amazing. Greg began a slow steady further intrusion, but without warning, Julie heaved her hips upwards, a move that thrust his erection to strike at her very core.
Greg’s initial entry into her was an exquisite moment, but instantly she knew she had to have it all, up her and hard. Damn the gentility mentioned in his book. She had never felt like this, so demanding, so needing this fulfilment.
There came another small but not urgent push from Greg. But she wanted urgency, she wanted to feel him hammering into her. So, when his next impulse came, she could take no more of the caution. Every fibre of her body screamed for release, and the uncontrollable heaving of her own hips was rapturous as she felt Greg’s cock strike against, what? Her cervix? Whatever, it was magical. His hardness filled her, was massive inside her.
God, was it sliding out of her, secretly spent? No, she wanted to scream, but then Greg thrust instantly. Julie knew her whole body was teetering on the edge of something. She knew she couldn’t hold her head still, as once more, her hips rose to receive the blessing of this lovely cock.
And she was aware of fires lighting up inside her lower belly, as more and more she received Greg’s increased thrusting. The fires were stoking higher, her body was no longer her own. There was no bed beneath her, there was only Greg’s all-devouring thrusting, thrusting. At some point, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.
That was all it needed. Enflamed, her muscles clenched ecstatically against the fullness of his heaving erection. Julie was lost in a place she had never been. It was as though her brain had melted, but as it solidified again, she became aware of the frantic pulsing of Greg’s lovely organ as he climaxed, moaning loudly. And that was an additional pleasure for her.
Julie could almost feel them come down together, first mentally, then physically.
After a while, Greg whispered, “Julie, that is as great as I’ve ever known it.”
Was he just being kind? But she said, “You did all the work. I just can’t recall ever having such wonderful feelings.”
“It wasn’t as tender as I wanted.”
Julie gave him a half smile, “That’s what I mean. I’ve never felt so demanding – so urgent for it.”
They lay quietly for a while, stroking each other lovingly, until Greg sighed, “This is the place for me.”
“Excuse me, don’t you mean ‘for- “
“Us,” Greg laughingly added for her, and the kissing began again.
Copyright © Copyright edgiver83 2018
The right of edgiver83 to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design, and Patents Act 1988
<a href=”https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/-house-for-sale-with-extras-.aspx”> House For Sale, With Extras </a>