“Turn her over,” I tell him.
Blair hears and switches herself, her head going towards the ground, her ass in the air for him. He smacks her pussy with his cock and then places the head at her entrance. She’ll be tight and swollen from her orgasms, slick with my cum and hers, the very thought making me hard again.
I watch as he fucks her from behind, the dirty words now switched to ones of praise, encouragement. For minutes, I stay where I am, taking Isaac’s usual role of watching.
They’re beautiful. They’re everything.
This gives me all I need and I know that.
I don’t need to search anymore.
Isaac pulls her hair as he ejaculates, her yell telling me that she’s coming too. Before he pulls out of her, he beckons me closer and takes my dick in his mouth, licking and sucking until he’s pulled whatever release I can muster from me.
Then we collapse. Sated. Under a Scottish sun we lie, laughing. Talking. Holding each other because we know what it’s like to have to let go.
And we don’t want to do that again.
Epilogue
September
“September is the month of maturity; the heaped basket and the garnered sheaf. It is the month of climax and completion. September! I never tire of turning it over and over in my mind. It has warmth, depth and colour. It glows like old amber.” –Patience Strong
September
Blair
I don’t have any help to get dressed, something that defies all tradition. Since Franklyn, I’ve kept the people I trust close by: Ben, Isaac, Ivy, Nate, Micky. I proudly wear my friendships but I keep my prized secrets close, private.
Except today.
Today is different. Today is when I show myself to the watching world, take the weight of a tarnished crown on my head and stand on the balcony to present myself to the watching crowd.
The watching world.
My mother had suggested a dress, a blue one the colour of Scotland. It would be dignified, feminine, show off my curves and my waist and women would’ve queued in the shops to buy copies of it.
I choose a suit instead; trousers, a blazer, fitted shirt that was feminine enough. Franklyn would turn in his grave.
I can’t help but think of him. For fifteen years he was in my life; the caretaker of it and there are times when I still hear his voice, when I fail to hang something up or leave my shoes in the middle of a room. There’s the voice of reason I’ll never forget and I don’t want to.
Ben and Isaac don’t have the same patience for his name. For them, he is the epitome of when we nearly fell apart.
When we nearly lost everything.
But we didn’t.
We live on.
I check the mirror once more, hear words of encouragement and compliments from the team that I’m half way to trusting, and then I’m ready.
It’s like a marriage. It is a marriage. One to my country instead of a man.
I wear robes over my suit, the velvet heavy, the gold brocade awkward as I walk. A thousand eyes in the room watch me and I pray I don’t trip. Another thousand million watch via cameras; the eyes of the world.
I look up, see my mother, see her wipe away a tear. Then I see Isaac, here as Prime Minister, make out the words he mouths to me.
I smile. See the flash of a camera.
