Margaret Ch 5

It was my long weekend. When we change over from one shift to another, just occasionally it works out that we get a few days spare and so it was this time, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, all free. On Friday morning I woke up as usual at 7 and started to get out of bed. Margaret, to my surprise was already up and moving around.

"Stay," she said.

"Thank you." I rolled over and heard the sounds of her showering, drying her hair and coming back into the room to dress. I lay and watched as, to my surprise, having selected her clothes she carried them out of the room to dress. She came back a few minutes later, dressed and looking for her simple jewellery. I was surprised because she knew that watching her dress was something I regarded as one of the great privileges of my life. It was almost as good, sometimes better, than watching her undress.

"Is something wrong?"

"Go back to sleep."

"Margaret."

"I said, go back to sleep." Shortly after, I heard the front door of her flat slam. Her flat. I couldn't sleep, of course. I lay there in the empty flat and thought abut her. This was so unusual. I tried to think back over recent days. In retrospect she had seemed….what? Remote, somehow was the best I could come up with.

*

I went out to walk alone beside the sea. It was a cold day and I could feel my skin glowing as the wind whipped over the sand and pushed against me. I thought life was perfect. I loved my job, despite Sister Bennet, the demonic Alice. Every time I thought of her, I sang the extract of the song, "Alice, Alice who the …. etc." I knew that, after the party, she and Margaret had met, once I understood, for coffee. They liked each other and, to be honest, Alice had been easier on me than before. I continued to submit to Margaret and I loved her; loved her to distraction. I sat by the shore and smoked an illicit cigarette, a wicked deceit which was strictly forbidden. I explained to a seagull that it was rebellion and laughed at the thought.

I walked back to my car with a strangely heavy heart and slowly drove home, back to her flat. Her flat, why was there a curious resonance in that phrase. There was no message from her on the answering machine. I got out the ingredients for dinner and started to prepare a Chicken Provencale for her return. By 7 I was concerned. Normally if she was going to be this late she would have phoned. A bottle of white wine was open in the 'fridge for our Friday evening aperitif, a regular pleasantry on days when I was home in time. I called her mobile but only got her voice mail. I took a glass of wine and sat, rather morosely, listening to Carly Simon sing My Romance - a favourite of mine.

At 8 I called her mobile again.. No answer. I called her office. No answer. I was worried.

At 8.15 the door opened and she came into the hallway. I almost ran to meet her and stopped dead. She looked at me, and I could tell she was drunk. I had never seen her drunk before. She was unruly, absolutely different from her normal demeanour when arriving home. Her pupils were dilated; I could almost smell the drink.

"Margaret?"

"I'm tired." With that she threw her coat on the floor and staggered, yes, staggered into the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed and within minutes was snoring gently.

I made sure she was safe, eased off her clothes, as far as I could, and covered her and then went to finish cooking and save the meal for another night. One question raged in my head; "What the fuck is going on?"

About 11 Margaret came into the sitting room. By this time she was sober and it was me who was nearly drunk.. I'd taken Whisky, a rarity these days and was slumped in front of the tv watching something. Margaret was in a dressing gown, her eyes puffy and her hair dishevelled.

I looked at. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"What."

"I know."

"Know what?"

"Just tell me. Who is it?"

She nodded and walked through to the kitchen and came back with a glass of wine. "You've had enough."

"It's someone I used to know." I sat, stunned. "He was wonderful. I was everything to him and he was mine. I lost him." She sounded so sad. Despite myself, I felt sorry for her.

"Who?"

"She turned on me, eyes blazing. "You."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just listen. When we first met you gave yourself to me." I started to speak but she gave me a look that warned me not to. "We grew into our relationship together. We explored your submission together. We found ourselves in each other. Why did you stop?"

"Stop. What do…"

"You stopped. You don't seem to want to go any further. Your like a middle aged man, settled and comfortable."

"I am settled and comfortable."

"I'm not." She said this quietly and her eyes filled. Then she shouted. "I am bloody well not." I went to stand, to go to her but again, her eyes stopped me. "You don't give any more. You don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I bloody well do - all of me." It then descended into "Yes I do, no you don't" row between two people with too much booze in them. At some point she hurled her glass at me and ran off back to bed. I took the whisky as my lover and slept with her in the cold of the early morning, uncomfortable in the chair.

*

I awoke to see her walking past me to the kitchen. I rubbed my eyes and followed her into the kitchen where she was making coffee.

"I was with Alice."

"What?"

"I told her. She let me get drunk and cry. I talked to her."

I couldn't believe it. Bennet. What the hell was happening here. Margaret poured coffee and handed me a cup, absently. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her that you had given up. That you made no effort to develop. That instead of the glorious submission you gave me 7 months ago you have settled into what is, for you, comfortable. I told her I wanted to grow and explore. I do."

"What do you want, for Christ's sake?"

She looked at me a long time and heart pounded. "I want…… more."

"What does that mean?"

"I want more. That's it. A static relationship is no good to me. I want you to submit more and more."

"How can I?"

"Do you want to?" I didn't know what it meant.

"Can we go for a walk?"

"Yes."

On the cliff, cold and wrapped in sweaters and gloves, we sat on a bench and looked out over the sea. My ears stung.

"What does it mean, Margaret?"

She hesitated a long, long time. "I want to share you." My heart stopped.

I went for a walk along the cliff, leaving her on the bench. I knew who she meant. Bennet, fucking Bennet. Margaret had once told me that she had never been afraid of her sexuality, nothing to fear, she ad said. I realised what she meant now. I walked back to her. "I need to think."

"Then do."

"Tell me - have you, with Bennett?"

"Alice? Yes."

"Right."

She went back by car and I walked the seven miles. It took me two hours and I was cold and resolute when I got back. I had no key and rang the bell. She let me in. She turned away and walked back into the flat. I followed and went to the shelf. It was dusk and I was cold. More whisky, but I needed courage for this.

"Yes, please," I said. She turned to look at me. I raised my glass sardonically and she wept.

*

That night we lay in bed and she held me. She knew I didn't like Bennett and so she knew I was doing this because the alternative was worse. She just held me and stroked my hair, occasionally murmuring "little one."

*

I didn't know what to expect the next day when Bennett came round for lunch. I'd cooked Margaret's favourite, lamb with rosemary, onion sauce and crisp roast potatoes.

When she arrived I answered the door and took her coat. She smiled at me and said, "surprise!" I hung her coat and, I suspect sullenly, offered her a drink. "Got any Gin? It's so cold" I poured her a gin and got Margaret a red wine and had one myself. "Margaret, don't you think you should leave me alone with him for a while?" Margaret nodded and went to the bedroom and shut the door.

"Now look. I know you don't like this. I've already arranged to change shifts so we don't work together, that would be quite wrong. It's what Margaret wants and it's what I want. Do you understand?"

"No."

"Look, you ass. Margaret and I are lovers. No, no, not for long," in answer to the unasked question. "But we are. She loves you to distraction but she likes lesbian sex. We're bi. Bi women need women. You have to come to terms with it. Part of her love for me," she stressed that last word, "is to share you. You never got it did you?"

I looked at her. "I want you too, have done for ages. There, I've said it."

"You loathe me."

"I never showed you favouritism. I couldn't. Give it time……. little one…give it time."

She went to the bedroom and opened the door. "I think lunch is ready."

We ate. It felt like a visit from a less than favourite aunt. Margaret was soft and gentle, her fingers occasionally brushing mine. I was out of it, mind completely overloaded.

After lunch, Margaret turned to Alice and said, "Take him. Take him to my bedroom and …. well, take him."

Alice stared at her, so did I. "Go with Alice. Call her sister. Do as she says."

I nodded and stood. Alice stood and led the way."

*

"Undress." I did and stood looking at the floor. She came and stood close in front of me and just held my penis softly as she kissed me. My erection grew in her hand and she kissed me harder. "You are not being unfaithful. Don't worry." She sucked my tongue and stroked me. She stood back and walked behind me. I could hear as her clothes were undone and removed. She walked around in front of me. She was wearing stockings and her heeled shoes and her body was fantastic. She cupped her breasts. "What do you think?"

"Oh, Sister, this is so hard."

"So's that," she smiled. I couldn't help smiling too. "You're beautiful," I said. "Not bad for an old one," she admitted and took my hand. She led me to the bed and pushed me gently so I knew to lie on it. She took my penis in her hand and straddled me, holding it at her entrance and slowly lowered herself onto it until she was halfway down it. I could feel her muscles tighten around me. "You will cum when I tell you, understand?"

Now. This was a bone (no pun intended, however good it may be) of contention between me and Margaret. She had always tried to control my cumming but it was not always successful. Of course she punished me but she wanted it, really wanted that control.

"Margaret says you've given up trying for her. Well, you'd better not give up trying for me." I heard inside my head the words she had spoken to Margaret as we had left her party that time, "You should be harsher with him." I shivered and she felt it. "Exactly!"

She leaned forward and let her nipple rest on my mouth. I kissed it and suckled it as she rose and fell on me. She sat up, grinding down on me the turned so her back was to me and slid down on me again. She reached between our legs and caressed my balls. It started. It seemed like it was erupting from my kidneys. "Not yet, little one," she said as she rolled my balls so tenderly. She didn't stop and I couldn't. I said, "Marg….Sister, it's impossible."

"No it's not," she said kindly and squeezed my balls. I yelled. That worked but I lost my erection, immediately. She turned.

"There you are," she said smiling. "You can do it."

"You did it. Christ."

"Yes, but next time, you will." She went to Margaret's drawer and took out her black, silk scarves. How did she know they were there? She moved around the bed, still In her heels, and tied me to the corners of the bed. She sat down and stroked my chest, her short, neat nails running across my nipples. She leant down and kissed me. She moved down and took me in her mouth. I hardened again. "Please Sister." But she was relentless, working me wonderfully until I was almost there and she stopped.

She stood and walked to the door, opened it and went out. A few minutes later she returned with Margaret, holding her hand. "Oh dear," she said as she saw that I had cum on my stomach and she turned and kissed Margaret. "Now, my love, he will learn."

"Yes."

Bennett led Margaret to me. "Look." Margaret looked.