Chapter 11.
Homecoming
When Barbara’s two weeks with the Bitch had expired Ludlow drove down to London to pick her up. They kissed inside the car; just a brief meeting of lips, the slightest flick of tongues together, tip to tip. Not much was said during the drive back up to University, they just quietly held hands as Ludlow drove the powerful Jag. It was almost as if they were meeting again after a long absence of many, many years. In some ways the gulf of their separation was just as vast.
For it was a more sophisticated and infinitely wiser Barbara who now sat next to Ludlow. She had received training in the use of weapons, clandestine communications, offensive driving; all the basic operational tactics, techniques and procedures of the secret agent, including, of course, advanced sexual techniques. She was still the same Barbara, still lithe and young, carefree and winsome in her mannerisms, but there was something in the way she now carried herself. A certain self-assuredness and confidence in her manner that bespoke volumes of a woman who truly knew herself, was comfortable with her body and with her sexuality. Although he had anticipated some slight adjustments in her character, Ludlow was fascinated with the subtle changes Barbara exhibited.
Once inside his apartment they kissed, longer this time, she holding his face in her hands as her tongue explored his mouth. His hands rested on her hips. Ludlow marvelled at how he had missed the tight curves of her body; her willing lips, her pillowy tits against his chest. He was already very stiff; as they kissed she ground her smouldering mound against his solid rod. Barbara’s hand travelled down to discover his cock at full length and hardening beneath her very fingertips.
“God I missed you,” she breathed as she gently stroked his hardening length, gave it a playful pinch. Jonathon moaned his approval, sucking on her tongue. Then Barbara broke the kiss. Looking into his eyes and smiling, she said, “not right away, lovey. Could we have a bite to eat, perhaps? Maybe a bath, perhaps? That bitch drove me into the fuckin’ ground, even on the last day!”
Ludlow raised an eyebrow at Barbara’s uncharacteristic use of crude language. She was beginning to show the hallmarks of a hardened professional. “But of course, love. You go hop into the bath and relax, I’ll put something together in the kitchen.” To this Barbara closed her eyes and delivered a quick kiss to his lips, then turned to leave the room, giving his hand a little squeeze.
“Love you, darling.”
“You too, sexpot.” When he called her this she laughed.
* * *
Barbara was already awakening into a very sexual creature when Ludlow first met her; she now revelled in her abandon. As he had originally introduced her to different and exciting aspects of sex, she now sought to pleasure him in ways unique and original.
She intentionally left the door to the bathroom open so that he could observe her undressing, left the door to the shower stall ajar quite on purpose so that she could display her naked body. As Ludlow went about the place tidying up and preparing some refreshments he couldn’t help but notice Barbara leaning over, nude, in the shower. She was slowly rubbing a bar of soap up and down the crack of her ass. Quite aware he was watching, Barbara was afraid he’d put his neck out of joint. She turned to rinse her ass, then straightened up and cupped her tits, pinched her nipples beneath the jets of steamy water, pretending all the while to be quite unaware of his eyes upon her.
Ludlow attempted to regain his composure as he went about what he had intended to do in the first place, which was to put on some light classical music while he prepared their supper. He owned a large component stereo system, an older Bang and Ullfson number that included a regular turntable, practically an antique. When CD’s had come around Ludlow felt he couldn’t face starting all over again compiling a collection, so he kept all his old LP’s. Besides, he maintained that better fidelity was delivered from an analogue groove in vinyl, as long as the needle was replaced regularly, than in a series of one’s and zeroes embedded in a plastic CD and mathematically converted into sound through an electronic process. Ludlow shared this belief with an elite group of music connoisseurs who were able to acquire and maintain their stereophonic systems via a loose association of second hand stores that dealt in the long-obsolete albums and playing systems of the by-gone era.
By the time Barbara finished in the shower and was prowling around the flat clad in one of her customary skimpy white lace panty and bra combinations, Ludlow had finished in the kitchen and was placing dinner on the table. In anticipation of the evening’s activities he’d prepared a light repast; a goulash, some French bread and a bottle of wine. Just enough for refreshment, not enough to load them down with food. The buoyant strains of Beethoven on low volume filled the background, piping in from his concert-quality speaker arrangement.
They ate quietly, simply taking pleasure in each other’s company after their two-week absence. Ludlow enjoyed the sight of Barbara sitting across the table in nothing but her underwear, the rounded tops of her breasts practically bursting out of the lace trimmed cups of her push-up bra. A black velvet ribbon tied about her neck as a choker seemed to give her body the appearance of being gift-wrapped. With her long hair tied up, the black velvet choker allowed Ludlow to more fully appreciate the beauty of her neck. As she looked at him over the blue-tinted lenses of her wire-framed granny glasses, a smile playing on her lips, it occurred to him that Barbara seemed to have achieved a sort of classic beauty that amplified her sexuality a thousand fold. Even the simple sight of her pursing her red lips to sip the Beaujolais from her glass seemed an erotically charged vision.
Suddenly, a stream of images floated across Ludlow’s consciousness. He could not help but have fleeting thoughts of past relationships, the bedroom antics of other women he had loved; thinking of them he marvelled at how Barbara seemed to surpass each and every one of them in so many ways.
There was Theresa, the Spanish flamenco dancer he’d carried on with a few years ago in Barcelona. A long, slim Latin beauty with a head full of raven-coloured hair that fell down about her shoulders, olive-hued skin, a narrow strip of jet-black fur over her pussy, wide hips just made for fucking and a set of legs that seemed to automatically wrap around his midsection at the earliest possible opportunity. The woman was remarkable; she loved to fuck in every way imaginable, every position that Ludlow knew of and even a few he had never thought possible. They even did it upside down in the shower. The trouble with Theresa was that not only did she love to fuck; she loved to fuck everyone. Ludlow was certainly open-minded enough to handle a certain degree of free love. He tolerated her affair with the bullfighter, he tolerated her fling with the group of rock musicians, and naturally he had no complaints when she shared her lesbian lovers with him.
