She was, without a doubt, a handsome woman, and Johan understood at that moment why his mother had been so put out by the description. Prettiness could be groomed into a face; handsomeness was innate.
When the boys had left, and Opal brought up Ruby, Johan felt that constriction in his chest that he had recently gotten used to. Back in London, he couldn’t remember ever having felt this way about a girl. Perhaps they were too abundant to miss, and so readily available to him. It was the only explanation that made sense of why Ruby had gotten under his skin.
When he’d realised that she was spending her nights in Heather’s bedroom, he had felt bereft, raiding the liquor cabinet he’d found in the library and polishing off the best part of a whole bottle of gin. He’d made the martinis how his father did, at room temperature and with a very roughly approximated measure of vermouth.
He’d been told before that he must be one of these men who was onlyin it for the chase. It was so cliché that he’d laughed. He thought it more likely that he was so easily bored by the women he fucked, that regardless of whether they ran from him afterwards, he’d never have any interest in pursuit.
Ruby had tested that hypothesis, and shown up the flaws in his theory. When played at his own game, he found himself falling into the same trap as his own past conquests: he began to believe that something so hard won must be a valuable prize.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly the moment that the mood shifted, but over the course of the evening, Johan began to seeOpal was the woman that she was. No longer just his host, or his muse, but a beautiful, if slightly lonely, wanting woman. Maybe it was because she was no longer lusting after that silly boy Noah, that she so suddenly seemed … viable.
Both of them had been wrapped up in the fantasy of the exotic, but really it was this that made the most sense. They came from the same world, after all; they understood each other. Where her age had seemed at first like an insurmountable barrier, when he saw her blush at his approach, gasp at his touch and almost come at his fingertips, the decade between them seemed like a paltry excuse for denying themselves the pleasure.
Once Hetty had left, Johan pulled Opal onto his lap; she gave only the slightest pretence of resistance, and it melted away completely as he brought her in for a kiss. She seemed to him so starved of passion that she received it gratefully and greedily. He hardened against the inside of her thigh and she pressed herself into him; the thought of her wetness slowly soaking through the thin material of her knickers made his mind grow static with want. He couldn’t wait any longer to have her in his bed.
Johan scooped Opal into his arms, her legs straddling him as he carried her out of the room. She giggled girlishly as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘You can’t get me up those like this. I’ll get down and walk.’ She tried to lower her feet to the floor but Johan hoisted her more firmly onto his hips.
‘I can get you anywhere I want, Opal, and I don’t intend to let your feet touch the ground all night.’ She yelped as he threw her over his shoulder and marched towards his bedroom.
He laid her down on the bed and stepped back as he slowly removed his clothing. He watched her as she watched him, and he revelled in the look on her face.
She reached for the top button of her blouse, eager to join him in his nakedness, but he knelt before her and he grabbed her wrist.
‘That’s my job,’ he whispered, and she nodded obediently. He pushed her back on the sheets, pulled up her skirt and pulled down her underwear. He admired her, exposed before him.
Her breathing was heavy, and he paused for a second to watch her stomach rise and fall softly before spreading her legs. Ruby hadn’t let him taste her, and it had made him ravenous for the flavour of a woman. He ran his tongue over her, as Opal pulled at his hair, her moans growing in frequency and in pitch until she convulsed beneath him. And even then, he didn’t stop. Even as she begged, he brought her back to the furthest tip of the ledge, before pushing her into the abyss again.
She clamoured for him, once her breathing had steadied, and there was something akin to desperation in her eyes when he came up to face her. She kissed him almost forcefully. He deftly unbuttoned her top, unclasped her bra and removed her skirt, before rolling on top of her. She let out a deep sigh as he slid inside her, something between satisfaction and relief.
It was so different to fucking Ruby, who held pleasure at bay until she was overcome, seemingly against her will. Opal embraced every morsel of it, welcomed it, savoured it, and made her enjoyment known. She was his to read at will, every tightening, every shiver, every moan; there was nothing to bedeciphered. He could tell when she was close, or when he had found the perfect spot. He could even tell when he needed to speed up or slow down. Her body was the road map and it was designed exclusively to the contours of her pleasure.
He didn’t try and count how many times she climaxed beneath him, as he had done in the past; instead he gave himself up to the journey, and let his mind be absorbed only by sensation.
When his time came he followed Opal’s example; he didn’t fight it, or try and hold on. He continued at pace, watching the approach of an old friend and resting assured that the moment of meeting would come at exactly the right time. The release was ecstatic. It took a moment after he’d collapsed beside Opal for the white noise in the aftermath of the explosion to fade.
Johan was pleased to find her still resolutely in place as he regained his faculties. He’d grown used to scrambling out of his postcoital bliss as fast as he could, if only to catch a moment with Ruby before she left. Opal, though, settled in, reaching to pull the covers over them both.
She nestled into his armpit and he drew her into his chest. How long had it been since a woman had listened to his heart beat?
‘I enjoyed that very much,’ Opal said softly. ‘I daren’t tell you just how overdue it was, but rest assured you’ve restored my faith in sex.’
‘That’s no small feat. I’m honoured to have been of service.’
Opal looked up at him, and he wondered if he should lean down and kiss her.
‘Can I take your photo?’ he asked instead.
‘What, right now?’ Opal seemed suddenly self-conscious, and Johan felt a pang of guilt for having ruined the moment until she added: ‘I guess, why not?’
He beamed and rushed for his camera bag. He felt her gaze on him as he sat on the edge of the bed, changing the film and fiddling with the lens.
‘How many “muses” do you have back in London then?’ Opal asked, as though trying to fill the silence.
‘None. I don’t usually like to mix business and pleasure,’ he replied honestly, gently running a cloth over the viewfinder.
‘I see, so which category do I fall into? Actually maybe don’t answer that, especially if the answer is business.’ Opal laughed nervously.
