SIX MONTHS

by Dorothy Strangelove

Later :

I had to write it down.  I couldn't say it  any other way.  The letter had been composed in my heart long before it had come to this point, I don't know when, maybe the first time he looked into my eyes, or the first time he touched me, or the first time he took me in his arms. Maybe it was even the first time he buggered me and we both came so hard that we fell together onto the wrecked sheets. All I knew was he had said, six months. And now it had come to this I had to tell him the only way I could.

So I put pen to paper and started to write:

'When I first met you my life was going its own way and I did not think someone like you would come along and make such an impact. I didn't expect you to steal my heart. At first I enjoyed our friendship but somewhere the line crossed and I fell in love with you, not for a moment but forever and I can't change that. The first time I ever saw you I was too drunk to say so, but I thought you was amazing and I imagined you must have a woman at home who was your equal, someone beautiful who wrapped herself around your body every night while she welcomed you inside her. I was surprised to find this was not the case. I was even more surprised when you made your proposal to me. And when you told me how long I knew I had to say yes. But now that is over and all I have left is the memories in my heart. I still love you. Everything I have done has been out of love for you. I will love you until the day I die...'

Previously :

I woke up with my head spinning and hurting. I wondered why. Oh yes, last night. It played back as my mind came up to speed slowly. Night out with the girls. Me in a tiny black dress, taking two steps down from the entrance, walking into the wine bar. Started slow, few glasses of wine. Then later, coming out of the wine bar, I'd stumbled up those same steps on the way out. Called a taxi and we piled in. Went to a club.. I rolled over and found a cooler spot on the pillow to press my warm face into. I took a deep breath. Time to get up. I went in the bathroom, didn't feel as dizzy as I expected to but all the same I had a headache so I swallowed two painkillers to shift it quickly. I got in the shower and hit the button, as the water streamed down on me and brought me back to life, I leaned against the tiles, they felt cold against my skin. More scenes were flickering through my mind now: Out of the taxi. Queuing up outside. Oh god, did I really grab hold of my cleavage and push it towards the doorman? No wonder he just smiled and stepped aside to let us in without another word. Embarrassing! In the club. In the dark, with the neon lights and the music pumping through me. Crowded. Taking shots at the bar. Then I dropped my bag. Someone picked it up and handed it back to me. No, not handed it, I was still on my knees in the club groping around on the floor wondering why I couldn't find it, then someone touched my shoulder. He leaned down and I looked up at him. I'd turned my attention away from the floor and seen sexy, black polished shoes, an immaculate suit, and when I saw his face he was the most totally gorgeous man I had ever seen. He helped me up. He bought me a drink...and then...and then - Oh, no! As the water streamed down on me and brought everything back with no gaps, I saw the whole thing:

I went outside with him. Round the back. He lit a cigarette. I was still drinking because I'd smuggled my glass out down my cleavage, between my tits? I put the glass down and started talking. Oh, no...I went on and on about how I was struggling after me and my ex broke up, about how I couldn't find a decent job and I was sick of everything and I'd started crying. My mascara had stung my eyes and I'd wiped off my tears with the back of my hand..What a mess! So there I was, with a gorgeous man, and drunk and crying and my make up all over my face. But his touch had been soft and gentle as he.....What did he do? Oh, fuck, NO. His touch had been gentle, but the only way he had touched me was when he held my hair back, while I puked into the gutter. He called me a taxi. While we waited for it I opened my bag, searched through it to get my phone out and give him my number.  But then the taxi turned up and at first the driver didn't want to take me but he said, she's okay..she won't be sick, she's been sick.. and he gave him a fifty? I leaned hard against the shower wall and gave a heavy sigh, telling myself : You fucking idiot..one time you meet a handsome, sexy guy who takes you outside and actually behaves like a gentleman and you blow it big time... After the shower I dried myself and went back to bed, thinking, fuck everything. I needed sleep. I made myself a promise that I would stay sober next time, although I knew I'd had my chance with him and it wouldn't come again, because life didn't give chances like that twice.

I went to bed to sleep myself well again. There would be other nights and other men, but I doubted if I would ever find someone like him again. I comforted myself with the thought that I was very drunk that night and maybe he wasn't as attractive as I'd imagined, maybe it was just the drink making everything seem better than it was. But deep down I knew that was not the case. I had no gaps in my memory.. I'd been drunk enough, but not that drunk. He had been gorgeous and I had blown it.

I stayed in bed for the rest of the day and recovered from my hangover.

Three weeks passed. I was still out of a job and not finding another one. The agency now had a new copy of my CV but so far it had not made any difference. I had gone back to the club a couple of times just to see if my mystery man was there but of course, he was not. Probably drinking somewhere else to avoid drunken tarts like me. And so life went on like that, me still in the same position, no job, no money, and things getting worse by the day with bills piling up.

Then the agency rang. I was told a client was interested in interviewing me. He wanted a housekeeper... and could I come today?  I got the details, the address and I hoped for the best. I threw open my wardrobe and took out some clothes that I thought might be suitable for the interview, it was summer so I laid out my selection and took a look at it: The white dress, the pink dress, a white, layered cotton skirt and matching low cut top, or the yellow dress. They were all thin and light, perfect for this weather but I wanted to make a good impression and feel comfortable at the same time. I chose the yellow dress, it was short and light, let my skin breathe and the cleavage was moderate with enough hidden support underneath to give me a lift and hold my tits in place. I couldn't have them bouncing around, it just wouldn't have looked right. The material was light and shifted with my body as I walked, it would be perfect, pretty and comfortable. The skirt was a little short, dropped down just below the top of my thighs, but I slipped on a pair of flat shoes and took a glance in the mirror, liked what I saw so I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs, then called a taxi.

Right up until the moment the cab arrived, I had a weird feeling that I'd forgotten something. I checked my bag. No, had everything, keys, phone, purse, phone, CV and references, I had nothing missing.

And yet it still nagged at me. Something I should have done that I'd forgotten about... But the taxi was moving now, I was on the way and had to think about the interview. All the same, that feeling nagged all the way through the journey.

The taxi pulled up outside a big, detatched house and I paid the driver, got out, took a deep breath and walked up the path, rang the doorbell and waited.

He answered the door quickly.

"You must be Tina." He said, "Hi, I'm Darren, nice to meet you."

I reached out to shake his hand.

I looked at him.

And I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. It was him, the gorgeous guy from the club and by the way he was looking back at me, he recalled me, too. I felt my face go red.

"How's your hangover?" He remarked.

I was blushing myself to death now.

"Gone, ages ago. I don't often let myself drink that much."

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if there was any point trusting me as his housekeeper when he had seen me pissed, sobbing, stumbling about and ultimately puking up and missing his shoes by about an inch.

"This is a little embarrassing." I said, "I can leave right now if you want, I'll understand if you want me to go."

"No, no, you don't have to leave," He replied, "Come in, I'd still like to see if you're right for the job."

And so I went in, my face still flushed, and followed him down a big hallway with a high ceiling and into a smart and well furnished living room.

He sat down on the arm chair.

I sat on the sofa.

There was a glass coffee table between us.

And a silence.

I sat back, made myself comfortable. As I shifted on the seat I felt a cool breath of air between my legs.

Then it came to me. Now I knew what I'd forgotten. Knickers! I had no knickers on.

I hastily brushed down my short skirt, my face growing red again. He looked at me and I looked at him as I wondered, Did he just see my cunt? My face was burning hot now. I drew in a breath and spoke first.

"If you don't want to interview me I'll understand, I mean..after meeting me in the club like that. If you don't think you want me as a housekeeper I can go for other interviews for other jobs. It's fine, really. I won't be offended."

"I'm going to tell you what I expect and if you don't like anything I say you can always walk out the door." He told me.

I blinked, looked back at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You know where the door is," He said, "You can get up and walk out and leave the way you came in, at any time, if you don't like what I'm going to say. Is that ok?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling there was more to this interview than I had first been told.

"I don't want a housekeeper." Darren said, "I told the agency I did because I wanted a legitimate way to find someone who can fill a vacancy for me, of a different kind. I have interviewed a dozen women so far and none of them have been right."

He paused, deep in thought. Then he took a deep breath.

"This isn't easy for me to say, no matter how many times I've had this conversation I still find it difficult. I want you to know I mean no offence to you by saying it."

I had found him attractive from the moment we met. I liked him. I wanted to get to know him. I couldn't imagine anything he said could have shocked me.

"I'm looking for a woman to help me with something I need to do. And I don't have a lot of time to do it in. I used to have a career in the military, to give you a brief background, many years ago I was involved in an explosion and I got shrapnel injuries. One of those fragments is deep inside me and it's moving, not all the time but slowly it's getting deeper, it can't be removed and when it goes deep enough, I'm dead. I've been told I have maybe another six months and that's it. So I want to do all the things I've never had the chance to do, while I still can. Do you get what I mean?"

I had not expected that, and I was shocked. Not because of what he was proposing but the reason why. He looked fine. He looked as if he was in perfect health. I wanted to hug him when he told me, but I stayed in my seat, mainly because I was still shocked by his revelation.

"So do you want to walk out the door?" He asked me.

I shook my head.

"So you want to hear more?"

"Yes." I replied, "I'll hear you out. And I won't get up and leave, I want to know what you are proposing."

He seemed to brighten up a bit when I said that.

"You're the only one who has stayed long enough for me to explain." He told me, "I'll tell you the rest and if it's not for you, just say so, ok?"

I smiled.

"Stop apologising." I told him, "I want to hear you out."

Darren laughed, and suddenly the ice between us was broken.

"I've had woman slap my face, another threatened me with the police, I've been called cunt, wanker, pervert - all in the course of two days because no one has understood. You don't know how much it means that you even want to listen!"

"Well I do." I promised him.

So he told me everything.

"I want a woman who will help me live out my fantasies. All my fantasies. It's nothing scary,  just stuff involving me and the other person, things we can share. Role play, adventurous sex that involves more than the missionary position."

Now I had stopped blushing. I had wanted him from the first time I saw him in the club. But while it was true attractive men have no problem getting girls, they had just the same problem all men had - not all girls liked sex and not all girls liked adventure or experimentation. He was lucky, choosing me. I'd had plenty of adventures.

"Tell me what kind of sex you want." I said honestly, "Because I'm very open minded."

Now the final barrier between us was down.

"I want to fuck you orally, vaginally and anally." He told me.

To my surprise, now he was the one who was blushing a little.

"I want to have risky sex. I mean where there's a chance we can get caught. I want you to dress for sex sometimes. Only on occasions where I want to choose what you wear. On these occasions I need you in clothing that is either revealing or gives me easy access."

I found myself laughing.

"Like today?" I asked him, "I forgot my knickers!"

He smiled.

"Yes, I know. I saw your cunt when you sat down!"

And we looked at each other across the coffee table and I knew I was the one who was not going to turn him down.

"Would you like to see it again?"

"Not right now," He told me, "I want us to talk some more, sort all this out so you know what I want."

And so I carried on listening.

"I've never tried bondage." He confessed, "But I want to. I'd prefer to dominate you, like tell you what to do, or make you do things to me. But I want to have you on top at least once just to have the experience."

I was over the embarrassment and the initial shock of what he had told me. Now I was warming up. I was getting wet, too. I had felt a natural attraction for him right from the start, so the conversation flowed much easier now. I sensed he was hesitating, so I coaxed more out of him.

"If I'm going to do this, I need to know everything. What do you want to do the most?"

He took another deep breath, looked into my eyes and told me everything.

"I'm a nice bloke, I'm not aggressive or nasty but I do have a fantasy about forcing myself on a woman. I mean, a fantasy where I rape her."

I smiled again.

"Me and an ex of mine used to play roles all the time. I can do that for you."

"And I've always wanted to know what it's like to have a woman lick my arse."

Now I was laughing.

"That same ex told me I earned a gold star in rimming. I used to come while I was doing it to him sometimes!"

We looked at each other and if this wasn't such an important discussion, I think he would have had me there and then, but he was business like about it, wanted to tie up all the loose ends.

"I'll pay you five grand."

Five grand for six months work was not much considering the work involved, but he didn't have long and I liked him and this was a chance I wanted to take. He had a nice house but that didn't mean he was rich, he had probably not worked for a while because of his health. I wasn't going to make an issue out of it.

"Fine." I said, "It's a deal. Five grand."

And then he added,

"Five grand a month it is, then."

I stared at him.

"A month?"

"Is that enough?" He asked me, "I can make it six if you need more."

I shook my head.

"Five is enough." I told him, still feeling stunned that he would offer me so much money for something that, to be honest, I would have done for free because I liked him so much!

Then he added: "But you have to remember this is a business relationship. Don't start getting feelings for me because I won't be here in six months time and you'll hate me for it if you get emotionally involved."

I nodded. Inside I knew I was lying, I liked him already and that could only grow and get deeper as time progressed.

He made no attempt to touch me at all, just took note of my shoe and clothing sizes and said he would buy some things he would like to see me wearing. And then he showed me the door, let me out, said goodbye and told me he would call me in a week's time.

I went home feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while, the wages would clear my debts and make me more comfortable and his proposal excited me. It seemed like nothing could go wrong..

That following week passed impatiently for me. I thought about him often, wondered about all the possibilities for our role play and all the things he wanted to try with me. The rape scenario actually made me a little nervous, I hoped he would not go into that one until I knew him better. I found him to be the kind of man I could actually fall in love with if I was not careful (and when it came to emotion I tended to listen to my heart anyway), but all the same, the word rape set me on edge a little. He knew he had a limited lifespan. Maybe that would lead him to take more chances, to take things further than he intended to... I pushed those thoughts away, already sick of sleepless nights, partly out of desire for him and partly out of anticipation of the unknown.

Sometimes, lying on my bed and watching the sun go down I would wonder what he would be like. He seemed like a nice bloke. But until you get behind closed doors with a person, who can tell about anyone? Sometimes that doubt nagged at me. Then I'd tell myself, He's gorgeous. He wants you. He's even paying you, for fuck's sake - stop it! And then I'd replace those thoughts with erotic ones, me and him locked in an embrace, his tongue deep in my mouth while he slid his hands down my body, one hand sliding up between my thighs to take away that aching that was so bad it was hurting me. I laid on my back alone in the bedroom and slid a shiny silver vibrator in and out of me, slowly, imagining what it would be like to feel him inside me. This was nothing new, I had done this right since the first night we met - but now as I slid it, I switched on a tiny bullet and turned it up and massaged my clit with it. I held the large one inside me as I came and felt the walls of my vagina squeezing it in rhythm with my orgasm. And through it all I had thought only of him. Then I knew for sure that no matter what came next, even if it went wrong, I wanted this and I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. It was as simple as that; he wasn't forcing me. I wasn't reluctant. I wanted this. And with that thought in mind, I spent a final night at home, packing a few things, shaving my body silky smooth, painting my nails, making myself look as beautiful as I could, to make his dreams come true.

That week passed quicker than I expected and he called me and I took my stuff and went over to his house. As soon as I got there I was already into this new experience and all the nervousness I had felt for the last seven days seemed to dry up and die. I walked in, left my bags in the hallway and he led me through to the living room.

"I'll take your stuff upstairs." He told me, you just relax and make yourself at home."

He left the room and while he was gone I took a look around and decided I liked this place. It was beautifully decorated, the furnishings were soft and tasteful. I went over to the window and looked out at the large garden beyond, in the centre was a large, circular fountain that sprayed a jet of water high in the air through the mouth of a laughing mermaid.

I glanced at some old photos that were stood beside the window on a shelf. One was turned down, I lifted it up and instantly felt guilty for looking. It was a picture of Darren, beside him stood a tall, elegant woman with the body of a catwalk model. She looked a little younger than him, maybe late twenties - and she was stunningly beautiful. Her long fair hair came down to her shoulders and he was standing with his arm around her, the two of them smiling for the camera like they were so happy together.

He came back into the room and there I was, holding that picture.

"Sorry." I said quickly, and put it back down.

"Don't be sorry," He told me, "She was my wife. I just turn her picture down because I can't bear to think how she would have felt if she saw us together like this, in this house, under her roof. She would have gone mad!"

"Where is she?"

"She died." He said, "A few years ago. I've been on my own ever since."

Then he took me by the hand and led me away from the pictures.

"I want you to go upstairs for me and take a look at what I've put in the wardrobe for you. And I want you to wear the really short black dress, the light summer one. Put the black stillettos on as well, but no underwear, please. And the black lace hold up stockings. Make sure you have those on. Then I want you to come back downstairs and go in the kitchen and start making dinner. I've just put a roast on, in about an hour you can start on the vegetables."

This seemed oddly domesticated for a man who had said he wanted to live out his fantasies.

"Is that all?" I asked him.

Yes." He replied, and turned to leave. Then as an after thought, while his hand was still on the door handle, he turned back and added :

"No, there's just one other thing, while you're cooking the dinner I'm going to break in and rape you."

Then he smiled.

"See you soon." He said, and left me alone with my thoughts.

The first thought that went spinning through my mind was Run, now, while you have the chance. But I took a deep breath and reminded myself, it was only a game...

I opened the door and went out into the hallway.

I called his name.

I was met by silence, the only thing to break it was the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall near the front door.

Instinct told me I was alone, really alone, I had no idea where he was, but I knew I wouldn't see him again until he was ready to play his game.  I went upstairs, saw the door was wide open at the end of the hall and I walked in. It was the master bedroom, a beautiful white room with drapes and a canopy over a four poster bed that had a pattern of delicate lilac flowers all over it.  This seemed more like a woman's room with such a romantic touch to it, I guessed she must have chosen the furnishings.  I saw a wardrobe door open and I looked inside. This was my half of the wardrobes, he had put my bags on the floor beside it. I took a good look inside and was quite surprised. He had chosen well, nice, pretty things, short dresses, skirts, some new jeans too but they were paired with lycra tops that had plunging necklines that left nothing to the imagination - obviously he either wanted the bottom half of me on display or the top, depending on his mood. There was some lingerie too, satin and lace and sheer see through baby dolls, in black, white and pink. What caught my eye the most was the darker items - the black fishnet body with a hole in the crotch, a PVC mini skirt and a leather harness that had holes in the nipple and pubic area, more like an arrangement of straps, made to enhance a naked body more than cover it. There were shoes of all colours, with high heels and lower heels, a pair of thigh length shiny black PVC boots and a pair of see through shoes that looked like they belonged on a lap dancer. There was a drawer full of thongs and stockings, some that needed a belt and some that had hold-up tops. He had chosen some really hot clothes. But I selected the short, sheer black dress and slipped on the high heels he had asked me to wear, then I went back downstairs and found my way to the kitchen.

At first the silence unnerved me a bit, everything was set out for me to carry out my role - the saucepans were lined up, potatoes and carrots ready next to a chopping board. The thing that unnerved me the most was the way a set of knives had been left in their wooden holder, handles facing outwards, either ready for me to choose one to cut these up or - the alternative made me shiver. We hadn't talked about what this scenario would involve... I pushed those thoughts aside and opened a drawer in front of me, found a small vegetable knife and started on the carrots. A couple of times I stopped, taking a look behind me, but each time I did, all I saw was the empty kitchen, the table behind me, the worktops empty and clean, the light blinking the time on the microwave, no shadows, nothing out of place, nothing at all to indicate I was anything other than alone.

The carrots were chopped and in the water. I put the saucepan on the hob and turned the dial, as the gas ignited the click was more like a crack that cut through the air as the ring of flame encircled the base of the pan.

As I stepped back, his hands were on my shoulders.

He squeezed me and then wrapped one arm around my neck.

"If you scream," He whispered in my ear, "You're dead, understand?"

And he held up something solid and silver. I caught my breath as he pressed the button and extended the angular blade - He had a fucking stanley knife!

"Don't try anything stupid." He warned me.

Then he let go, took hold of my arm instead and twisted it behind my back.

My mind was racing now. I hadn't expected any of this! As he turned me around to face him I got even more of a shock. He was dressed all in black with a balaclava over his face. His eyes looked cold. He looked like what he was pretending to be - he had broken in to rape me, and that is what he intended to do.

"I think we should calm down a bit.." I said, shaking as I looked again at the blade in his hand, "I'm really scared.."

He pushed me down on to the table, grabbed the hem of my dress and used the knife to slit it all the way to the top so it fell open and exposed my body. I tried to get up but I was shaking so much all I could do was raise my hand.

He caught me by the wrist, threw the knife to the floor and unzipped his trousers.

I was tugged down the table by my ankles, so that I was stabbed right away with his hard waiting cock. It made me cry out, it bloody hurt because the fear had made me go dry - but he did not care in the slightest. He pinned me down with the weight of his body, slamming into me as he panted in my ear. With each thrust my body shook and the table wobbled, antique wood groaning under the weight of such a vicious fuck being carried out on top of it.

"You," He said, stabbing me with his cock again, "Are a dirty whore, I've watched you from the window every night and I can see your cunt, your arse.. everything.."

He thrust again, panting harder, "..And I had to give you a good fucking seeing to because it's what you deserve, to be raped..by me.."

Then he tensed, buried it in me and came hard and hot, pushing it deeper still as if he wished he could impale me on the end of it. He took a deep breath, pulled out of me and stood up. He leaned with his hand on the edge of the table for a moment and got his breath back, then he put his cock away and stepped back. He looked at me one last time, lying there, too scared to move, my dress slit down the middle and my own slit spilling his seed all over the kitchen table.

"You were asking for it." He stated, and turned his back and walked out, closing the door behind him.

I laid there for a moment - in fact for quite a while. I just stared up at the kitchen ceiling getting my breath back, feeling slightly sore because he had fucked me roughly and wondering if I was actually sharing this house with a lunatic. Then I wondered if I was the lunatic for even agreeing to this...

Then Darren opened the door and glanced at me. He had changed out of his costume and he smiled at me, taking a good look at the naked woman spread on his kitchen table with his cum running out of her open legs.

"Now that's what I call laying a table!" He said, and all my fear dissolved and I burst into a fit of laughter.

He finished the dinner while I went upstairs and threw off my torn clothes and washed myself. When I came back down in a short bathrobe he invited me to sit at the table and we had dinner together. While we ate we talked.

"Did you like it?" He asked me.

I had to be honest.

"It was intense, I mean, I was a bit scared, I wasn't expecting the knife. You are one hell of an actor."

He smiled at that remark.

"I've had a bit of training." He told me, "I did a drama course once. I was quite good, as well. Sorry if I scared you, I wanted the whole thing to be a surprise, it made it more real for you and I loved your reaction - made me feel like I was the real thing!"

"What's coming next, or do you want to surprise me?"

He paused for a moment, then said quietly, "Just sleep with me tonight, hold me. Please, I want some closeness. If you want to, of course."

"I'd like nothing better." I promised him.

Later, after dark, I slid under the covers naked. When he put his arms around me all I could do was hold onto him, as he kissed me and whispered in my ear that he cherished me, I replied only with a kiss, then slept with a wonderful bubble of warmth around us that told me I was disobeying him, I was falling in love with him, but as long as I did not say it, he would not know, no one would ever know except for me - and my secret would only be shared between me and my heart.

As he fell into a deep sleep I kissed him gently, he shifted slightly, murmured something I couldn't make out, then moved closer, his head on my shoulder, his breath against my skin. As he slept I ran my had over his body, he felt firm and warm and his skin was so soft all I wanted to do was enjoy this closeness forever, to melt into him so we merged as one and stayed that way for ever more. Then my fingers brushed across uneven skin, I felt it trace a path across his hip to the centre of his body. He was sleeping deeply, so I switched on the bedside light and carefully raised the covers. When I saw the size of that scar it only brought home to me the fact that his injury was slowly killing him. It was there to remind me that. And he had said, do not love me. I already loved him, and as I imagined life without him, tears came to my eyes. I turned off the light and slipped back into his arms, where his warmth and the rise and fall of his chest reassured me that I could sleep here in his arms, his reassuring even breaths seemed to promise that he would wake beside me in the morning.

Next day I woke late, he was up, dressed and woke me with a kiss, telling me to hurry up and get ready, we were going out and he had chosen me an outfit, it was hanging on the wardrobe. I wondered what had happened to Good Morning or even breakfast, but got up and took a look at my outfit. He had put a white mini dress on a hanger on the outside of the wardrobe, it was so short it would barely cover my arse. If it was not such a hot summer, I would have refused to wear it, but it was a hot day and I guessed it would be comfortable, and the shoes he had put out to go with it were flat, so I had a rest from heels today. I showered and got dressed, put on some makeup and dried my hair, then I was ready to go. We went for a drive, out of town to a small village that had an open air market, we spent a couple of hours looking around, he bought me breakfast in a tea shop and then we wandered around some shops. As the clock struck twelve he paused and leaned against the stony wall that surrounded the churchyard, and looked up at the clock face on the tower of the ancient church.

"It scares me sometimes," He told me, "When time goes so fast - it just reminds me I don't have long left."

I closed my hand over his.

"You don't have to think about anything," I promised him, "Just look forward to everything we will do, think about that and nothing else, because as long as I'm around, I'll make sure you're happy."

And he blinked back tears and looked away for a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Come on," He said, "Let's go somewhere else. I have plans and they don't involve me getting depressed."

He led me away from the church, down a narrow alley way, then out the other side to another parade of shops. We started to walk towards a pub at the end of the road. It was a big, old place and when we went in the door squeaked on oil-thirsty hinges and a bell above the door jangled.  A few of the drinkers looked up, I felt eyes burning into me as the men took in my flimsy dress, with the sun shining behind me as I came in I was aware my naked body beneath would be outlined perfectly and I made an effort to keep my legs close together,  in case as I walked my gash became the first ever in history to put on its own shadow puppet show, with lips parting and clit visible, it would have looked like a mouth chattering away to itself, lips moving as my thighs did.

But the stares of others meant nothing, I was with Darren, who I knew I loved, even if I knew I could not say so. I felt safe with him. The way he clung tightly to my hand told me loud and clear he would let no other man touch me. I was pretty sure he would hit them if he even suspected they were thinking about it. I was owned, I was his property, and his embrace, his touch, it all felt like a shield - and I loved it.

He ordered two drinks and we went out into the beer garden. It was a pretty place, with white painted metal tables and chairs to match, the lawn was green and flowers stood bright and proud in the borders. It smelled of summer and beer and cigarettes and warm bodies as the garden became more crowded, drinkers all seeking a green sunny place while the sun was at its highest point. We sat at a table at the back of the garden, near an old brick wall. He put the drinks on the table and sat down, then pulled me onto his lap.

"Kiss me." He said.

I turned around and kissed him. As our lips touched I felt his hand moving beneath me.

I gasped and pulled back. There was a wicked look in his eye and he laughed softly.

"Don't draw attention to us." He said quietly, "I'm going to put my cock inside you."

I stiffened.

"No!"I said sharply.

But something was stiffer than me and it was sliding deep into my wetness, he gave a discreet thrust and I breathed in sharply, straightened my skirt, glanced around and was relieved to see that although I'd just been shocked by the unexpected, all the other people around us were oblivious. To them it must have looked like he was shifting position as he took my weight on his lap. Oh, god, if we got caught..I'd be so ashamed! But all I could do was sit here and take it, and I certainly was taking all of it....

I picked up my drink. I sipped it and put it down again.

"It's too strong."

"What did you want?"

"Lager shandy, this is lager and lime."

He took my drink and swallowed a mouthful of it.

"I'll get you another one when I go back to the bar." He told me.

Then he carried on drinking his pint, cock still inside me. He drank it quite fast. Then he put the glass down, shifted and slid out of me, putting his cock away discreetly, his hand hidden by the fall of my skirt.

I got up and he stood up, picked up the glasses and went back inside. I sat down and waited.

He was quite a while, when he came back out he pulled up a chair opposite me, placed our drinks on the table and sat back down.

He looked into my eyes.

I looked back at him.

I felt something pass between us, deep and warm, and as I sipped my drink I took another mouthful, this was the best lager shandy I'd ever tasted and here with him in this garden on this sunny day, it seemed like a perfect moment when everything was right with the world. I wanted to tell him I loved him. But I couldn’t stray into that area, he had told me that was not allowed.

"Nice?" He asked me.

I sipped the drink again.

"Lovely."

"Drink some more." He told me, then he smiled at me and said three little words.

Those three words stunned me. I couldn't believe what he had just said.

"What did you say?"

He giggled. He repeated it.

"Drink my piss!"

I  stared at him. He was laughing at a joke and only he was getting it.

"You want me to ..what?"

"You're already drinking it." He told me, "I topped your glass up in the toilets!"

I put my glass down sharply.

"Darren, you should have warned me, I didn't know, you didn't ask me.."

He was still laughing.

"But you like it. You couldn't get enough. Go on, drink the rest of it!"

I reached for my glass and carried on sipping. I still couldn't taste piss, I had played a few watersport games with an ex of mine (the same one who taught me the art of analingus), but I had not been expecting this and it made me wonder how the hell his mind worked. Did he not understand the importance of asking a person first? I didn't get the chance to say that.

"I might piss on you later if you're lucky." He told me, and sank the rest of his pint.

"You should slow down." I told him, "You're driving, remember."

He shrugged.

"It's one of those days." He replied.

Then he got up again.

"I'll get you another drink, but I won't piss in this one, too much piss might make you throw up."

We stayed in the pub for another two hours. He was drinking quite heavily and all of a sudden it dawned on me that this was probably an average day for him. I guessed he was living recklessly because he knew he had limited time, but I decided when he sobered up we would have to talk about this - it was bad enough he wanted to drive himself home but he was taking me along for the ride too. When he finished his last drink and I had forced my last drink down, I finally spoke up.

"You shouldn't be driving."

He glared at me.

"I'll do what I like. Shut your mouth!"

And so I did, I was seeing a very different side of him now, I was starting to think maybe this was the reason why he was paying me so much to live with him, I doubted whether many women would put up with the way he changed with a drink inside him.

He took his phone out of his pocket and got up again.

"I have to make a phone call." He told me, "Stay there."

And he walked off to the other side of the beer garden, chatted out of my hearing distance for a short time, then came and sat back down.

"We've just got to wait a minute," He told me, "My mate's turning up, I have to see him about something. You stay here, I won't be long."

Now I was getting nervous. If he thought I was up for a threesome he was wrong. This was an agreement between the two of us - no third parties, and if he expected that, as much as I wanted the money and as much as I liked him, I'd be quitting this job right here and now. I sat in silence while he went to the bar and got yet another drink, he sat down again, drank it slower this time, then his phone rang and he answered it, cut the call off and said:

"I won't be a minute."

He walked around the side of the pub, towards the car park. I followed and watched.

An old car pulled up, the driver, a young guy in a hoodie, wound the window down and Darren leaned in and the two of them had a chat.

Then Darren handed him some money and the driver gave him something that he quickly put in his pocket. To my relief the car drove off again. Darren glanced up and saw me standing there. He came over and told me we were leaving, he just needed to have another piss first.

When he came out again he seemed refreshed and all the tiredness the drinking in the hot sun had caused was gone. He took his car keys out and led me by the hand over to his gleaming black sports car. He opened the passenger door for me.

"I think we should get a cab." I told him.

He shoved me into the seat and slammed the door, then got in the drivers side and slammed the keys into the ignition.

"Shut up." He said again, and started the car.

He drove straight towards the open gateway, as we went to pass through there was a loud crack and something flew into my lap..his wing mirror. He laughed.

"Hold onto that..I'll have to see if I can fix it back on. Think I've got some masking tape indoors."

Masking tape? I said nothing, just covered my eyes as he slammed on the accelerator and we shot up the road with a squeal of rubber on tarmac.

We cruised steadily down the motorway, he was driving fine and I was starting to relax a little and think maybe I would see out the end of this ride in one piece.

"You're driving well." I told him.

"I'm fine, I'm wide awake." He told me.

Then he glanced at me, his eyes saying he was anything but fine.

"I did a line of coke."

He said it like a reassurance, but I just fell silent and prayed for the ride to be over. But he had one more surprise for me.

"Suck my cock."

"What?"

"Suck it while I'm driving."

And he had it out and hard, ready for me. Feeling this couldn't get any more crazy, I went down on him and stayed down, his cock in my mouth all the way home.

We got back a lot quicker than I expected, mainly because he was exceeding the speed limit, then he led me by the hand, up the path and stopped at the front door.

He searched his pockets. Searched them again.

"Fuck it," He said, "I forgot my keys."

And he stripped off his t shirt, wrapped it round his hand and punched a hole through a small pane of glass beside the window. He reached in and unlocked the  front door. We went in, he just stepped over the broken glass and left it there. As he went to close the door he stopped and laughed.

"Oh look!"He exclaimed, pointing to the car, "I can see my keys..I left them in the ignition!"

"Maybe you should lie down?" I suggested.

"No, I got two three litre bottles of cider in the fridge." He told me, "I'm going to sit in the garden. I've got an idea, you go upstairs and get all your sexy under wear and I can take pictures of you while I drink!"

I heaved a sigh. But then I remembered, he was living on borrowed time. He wasn’t going to think about tomorrow or the next day, he didn't want to rest. He just wanted to have a good time.

So I went upstairs and grabbed some lingerie and came back downstairs. He told me the rules. The kitchen was my changing room, I had to come out in the garden in different outfits and he would be sitting on the grass and taking pictures. Not very exciting for me to be constantly changing my clothes, but great for him. So I agreed.

I put on the black fishnet with a hole in the crotch and a pair of high heels, then walked out into the garden. He was on the lawn with a pint glass half finished and a bottle of cider beside him, it glowed golden in the sunshine and the bubbles rose to the top in a lively way, he was ready with his camera and gave me instructions.

"Walk over to the fountain."

I did, I leaned against the fountain while he took a picture.

"Put your leg up." He told me.

I did, bending one leg high up on the base of the fountain, exposing my slit and making it brightly exposed by the sunshine.

He took several more pictures, then said it was time for the next outfit.

He photographed me in a white basque and stockings, then the leather harness outfit.

Then I put on a see through top and tied it at the waist and zipped up the PVC mini skirt.

When I came back to the garden, he laid on his back, camera ready.

"Stand over me." He told me.

I did, and he just laid there for a moment looking up my skirt.

"That is fucking perfect." He said, and took a picture.

Then he put the camera down.

"Sit on my face."

I got on my knees and lowered myself downwards, he started to lick me so hard and so fast I was gasping out loud, he sucked on my clitoris and licked it over and over, I was wet and gushing on his face and he just kept going. I felt myself coming uncontrollably and pressed harder against him, as I came a cried out, as I cried out he licked and sucked and took all of my juices as the orgasm flooded me through.

As I got off him, he wiped the remains of my cum from his face and sat up.

"If I didn't have such a short time left I'd fall in love with you." He confessed.

"Same here." Was all I said.

I took the clothes back upstairs, then showered. When I came back down stairs he was in the living room, crashed out on the sofa with the empty cider bottle beside him. I let him sleep and spent the rest of the day in bed, my head sore from too many drinks.

Next morning he apologised for being 'a bit reckless'. He was somewhat hung over and for the next couple of days we stayed at home, he took things easy, had a wank over the pictures and asked me to give him a blow job, but apart from that all he did was eat and sleep. That day out had really burned him out for a while. I spent my time in the garden, sunbathing, I cooked him dinner, we talked some more, but he said nothing about his next plans for his sexual adventures.  I guessed he was going to keep me in the dark about that.

He slept beside me every night and now he held me and kissed me, sometimes held me till morning. I was in love with him now, despite his faults I loved him and there was nothing I could do about it, or wanted to do. I knew he wanted to live the rest of his life as wild as he liked, and I had no right to stop him in a way because it was his choice and it was not as if he would regret anything a few years from now - he didn't have that luxury. He left the broken wing mirror and didn't bother replacing the glass in the door. He drank in the garden and took more pictures. And that was how the rest of the week turned out, until Sunday night.

It was raining and I'd just had a shower, I put on a bathrobe and went downstairs. He was sitting in the living room looking at the pictures he had taken over the past few days, I guessed he loved them but all I could really see was me, slightly drunk and standing with my legs open, posing with my tits out, in some pictures all I could see was up my own skirt.

"Are you glad I'm still here?" I asked him.

And he looked up at me. His eyes glazed over with tears.

"I know you must think I'm a right pervert, but I just want to have this life for as long as I can, it's hard to explain how I feel, it's like I have to do everything now, before it's too late..."

I sat beside him and took him in my arms.

Then I finally told him. The words had waited to come out but now there was no stopping them.

"I love you," I told him, "I know you don't want me to but I can't help it, I love you and I can't change it. I'll do everything I can to make you happy because I know what you're facing."

He gave a sob.

"No, you don't. Only I know that. I'm scared.."

I held him tighter. As he calmed down a little, he wiped his tears away and kissed me gently.

"Come upstairs with me." He said.

So I did.

He led me to the bathroom and pushed me to my knees on the tiled floor, pausing to pull on the tie that held my gown together. As it came apart, he got his cock out.

"Open your mouth." He ordered.

I looked up at him, wondering why he suddenly wanted a blowjob in the bathroom. Then he ran out of patience, clamped his hand on my jaw and held my mouth open.

"I want to piss on you, in you as well." He stated, and a stream of piss hit my face, ran down my neck, over my tits, he redirected it and I was splashed in the mouth, then he finished off by wiping his cock on my hair.

"Take the dressing gown off and wipe the floor with it." He told me, then come to bed and give my arse a lick."

I cleaned the floor, realising today he had decided I would be his slave. Ok, I didn't mind, I loved him and I wanted to please him anyway, but I wished he would warn me about these things.. I never knew what was coming next!

I showered for a second time that day and joined him in the bedroom.

He was lying naked on the bed, the evening light cast an amber glow over his body and all I wanted to do was run my hands over him and cover him with kisses. He spread his legs.

"I've wanted this for a long time."

I lay on the bed, right between his legs. My hands rested on his arse - what an arse he had, it was perfect, rested nicely in my hands and as I squeezed his cheeks he gave a sigh.

"Oh that's so good.....please lick it for me, you're my slave today..lick me, slave."

I spread his cheeks. His arse was perfect, I just wanted to lick it and lick it, shove my head down there and never come back up. As I leaned forward some more I felt the blood rush to my clit. He was a lucky boy, he had no idea how aroused I got doing this.. I licked the length of his crack, then ran my tongue around the tight, perfect hole. He was shuddering and shaking with the intensity of it, and had no idea what I was about to do next, and for once, it was me who was keeping a secret - I couldn't wait any longer! I sucked on his ring, slid my tongue inside, darted it out and back in again, just about fucking his entrance with my tongue, in and out, while I felt him shiver and heard him gasp as he begged me for more. I buried my face against him and licked harder, harder still, till the burning ache between my own legs was too much and I reached down and rubbed hard at my clit, the orgasm burst through me and I was moaning in pleasure, coming with my mouth pressed against his arse. As I raised my head and took in air he was still shaking, he rolled over and I had never seen a cock so hard and ready to come, he looked as if he was about to burst.

"Sit on it." He ordered, "Do it now!"

I collapsed onto his hard on, still feeling wrecked, and slid up and down his length. He pumped into me hard and rough, then spurted deep inside me. He came sharply, as the orgasm flooded him he grabbed me and pulled me down into his arms, still breathless as he whispered:

"What ever happens in the future, I want you to know that I do love you. I fucking love you and that's all that matters."

And it was all that mattered, for a while. We went out, he got drunk, we had sex sometimes on the way home, he would pull down a quiet lane, take me out of the car and fuck me. Other times he would piss in my drink, he really got off on seeing me drink it. He did drugs sometimes, often making me stay out late with him because he did not tire. I got used to it. I accepted it. And the time began to pass in a frighteningly fast way. Soon, it was almost the end of summer. Good things had to come to an end eventually, time had to pass. I hated those facts but knew they were true. So far he still seemed well enough to carry on and showed no sign of the condition that threatened to kill him. I started to think that maybe he would have much longer, but every time I started to think that way, my commonsense and a natural urge within me not to lead myself astray reminded me, he was dying and there was nothing I could do about it.

One night he asked me to dress in the PVC mini skirt and boots, and wear the smallest, tightest top I had and meet him in the garden.

It was growing dark and the garden was lit up with spotlights all around the pathway and the fountain, it was a lovely warm evening and as I walked up to him dressed like a hooker he got his cock out and ordered me to bend over the fountain.

I did as I was told, then gasped in alarm as he pressed his cock against my arse.

"We need lube." I said quickly.

"No, we don't!" He replied, and rammed it in me.

I screamed. He thrust deeper, pulled back and started to thrust again. The pain sent a ring of razor-sharp tearing sensations around my arse. I cried out with every thrust. The harder I screamed, the harder he fucked me.

"Stop it.." I begged him.

"No," He said breathlessly, "I want to take you deep and dry..I want to rip your arse wide open so you always remember this fuck."

Then, to my relief, he shoved it in hard and deep one last time, flooded me with spunk and pulled out.

"Sorry," He said, "But I've always wanted to do that."

Then he went back inside, leaving me to lean on the fountain, my arse on fire.

I went to bed late, after bathing and cleaning my bruised and hurting arse. When I got in bed beside him he put his arm around me.

"Sorry." He said, "I mean it, I went too far. I do sometimes, I want you to know I didn't mean to hurt you, I never have. I just wanted to do all the things I've never done, and I wanted to do them with you. I love you."

He was tearful. I held him tightly, then he held me all night until morning.

I awoke before he did. I had the weirdest dream that someone was coming up the stairs. I dreamed they walked in the bedroom and shouted WAKE UP.

I opened my eyes. I sat up, looked around.

She was in the doorway.

It was definitely his dead wife, standing there looking very alive, glaring at us.

Then she spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" She demanded.

And then I realised I was actually awake. This was no dream..

She tossed her long hair off her shoulders and indicated to Darren.

"Get that prick out of my bed NOW!"

Darren woke with a jolt, sat up, stared in horror at her.

She glared back at him.

"That's right, you fuckwit, I'm back EARLY! What the bloody hell have you done? The glass is broken by the front door..and my car, Darren...my sodding car! How could you? I trusted you to house sit for me, for six months, and this is how you treat my home?"

Darren looked at her, looked at me, looked at her again.

"Sorry, Sis!"

Sis? As in 'sister'?

"He said you was his wife!" I exclaimed, "He said you was dead!"

If looks could kill, he would have been the dead one right about now.

"You sick, sick little CUNT!" She screeched, "Get out of my house and take your slag with you!"

I grabbed my things, just random stuff, ended up getting out of there in a PVC mini skirt and a lycra top and bright red flat shoes, the first pair I could lay my hands on. I left them to argue. She was slapping his face as I ducked past them and got the hell out.

I had enough money in my bag to get home.

I hated that journey. I looked like a prostitute all the way home. When I got in, I changed out of those clothes and had a bath. I cried and told myself this was what I got for being so bloody trusting. Obviously, when I checked my account, no wages had gone in. He was a liar, all the way through. He was not dying. He was not the man I thought he was. Just taking advantage of his sister's house to use me to live out his fantasies.

Time passed. I still hurt. Eventually although I was angry I missed him. I could not switch my feelings off. He called me. He apologised to me something like fifty times in as many calls on my answer phone. He even gave me his address and said, would I like to come round and see him? I ignored him.

But not forever. Eventually, I sat down and wrote him a letter. I told him everything, how I had fallen in love with him and how I could not change that. Then I posted it.

The Present :

On Friday I waited for the doorbell to ring. I had said, come round Friday morning if you want to explain.

He turned up. When I saw him I wanted to hold him, but not yet. I had not finished with his lies just yet...

As soon as he stepped through the door, he said sorry again. I ignored him and walked through into the kitchen. I sat down. He sat down too and we looked at each other over the table.

"Speak then." I said, "Go on, tell me why."

He took a deep breath. His eyes looked tearful and his hands were shaking. I knew he loved me too, but he had fucked up in every possible way and now it was my turn to show him how I'd felt.

"When I met you in the club, I fell in love with you. But you was so drunk and all I could do was get you home. But you dropped a copy of your CV when your bag went on the floor - I picked it up, that's how I found out about the agency. I waited and then got you to come round and I told you the story that I was dying to make sure you said yes to me, I know I was wrong but my sister was letting me house sit for her for six months and I thought if I impressed you enough you would be okay when I told you the truth...I never meant things to go as far as they did, Tina, I swear! But it was all so bloody good, the best I've ever had.."

I glared at him.

"And when exactly was you planning to tell me the truth?"

"Soon, I swear I was going to tell you soon..I could just never find the right moment.."

" I can think of several." I snapped, "Like, before you raped me. Or before I drank your piss. Or how about before my tongue went in your arsehole? That would have been just about perfect!"

He blinked back tears again.

"I'm sorry!"

"What about your scar?" I asked him, "How did you really get it?"

"Got locked out when I was sixteen, I was drunk, tried to climb up to the bedroom window and I fell through the conservatory roof."

"You're a twat." I stated.

Then I simmered down.

"Well," I said, "Those lies you told have come to haunt you now. Because when I realised I loved you, when I thought you was going to die I decided I wanted to remember you forever. I came off the pill. I'm pregnant."

He stared at me in shock.

"You're having my baby?"

"Yes," I told him, and shoved the pregnancy test across the table.

"And what's more," I added, "If I have this kid of your's I'm making sure it never, ever gets to meet you."

"No, please.." He said, crying again, "I haven't got any kids..I want this baby.."

"I'm not surprised," I told him, "What woman would want a baby by you? I don't need you in my life. I have an arsehole, I shit out of it every day, why would I want a spare one? You're useless. You're a liar."

He was sobbing and crying.

"Please, " He begged me, "Please, I'll do anything to make it up to you.."

I smiled.

I got up and stood over him.

"Well," I said, "Here's my proposal. You move in with me and pay my bills. If you haven't got a job, you get one, anything, just as long as you take care of me. And no drinking, no drugs, no sex games unless I say I want to play them and definitely no more lies. If you don't like what I've said, you're free to leave right now, walk out the way you came in. So what do you say? New start? My rules?"

He got up and hugged me.

"Yes, Tina,” He said gratefully, "I promise, I swear to you, anything you say, I'm all yours, any way you want me."

And I carried on hugging him, knowing this time he was right where I wanted him, and how I wanted him...And I was going to take my time, get him to sort his life out, be the way I wanted him to be, change him in every way I could, and it would be a long, long time until I actually revealed that I'd coloured in that false pregnancy test result with a felt tip pen...I was going to spin this out as long as I could..maybe, even as long as six months!

The End