things like any other couple they had passed, enjoying the clement weather and time spent just with each other.
It was good being away from their normal lives, in Iain’s case a life that was getting to be too hectic these days, in Natasha’s case a life that was rather humdrum and boring on the whole if she was honest with herself. This was just the sort of spice she needed to perk up her week. Personally, she would have chosen to be clubbing and dining in London, but as Iain still insisted on a degree of secrecy they had to be more circumspect. It certainly leant a little frisson, a sense of naughtiness, to their being here together.
They had visited Castle Ashby House as Iain was considering it as a venue for a business meeting - what a luscious wedding venue! Natasha thought - and they picnicked by the river with oodles of champers. Having decided that Northampton had little to offer in the way of satisfying their current needs, they had headed west into Warwickshire and had strolled round Stratford-on-Avon until the mass of tourists heading for places like Shakespeare’s birthplace in Henley Street and the like became too much for them. Iain suggested the theatre but she had drawn the line at actually seeing a Shakespearean play. Her personal taste was to be seen at the latest West End shows.
Mainly she had enjoyed their lovemaking in the grand half tester bed in this bewitching 16th century manor house. The hotel, as it now was, was filled with fine antiques and they were treated like royalty.
She let the sheet slide beguilingly as she leaned forward to replace her coffee cup on the tray, almost, but not quite, revealing her large dark nipples. She stretched languorously, knowing Iain loved to see the way her breasts tautened when she raised her arms above her head, the way they were thrust forward so provocatively beneath the thin covering. Today, however, his eyes remained glued to the article he was reading in The Times, something about more eco-warriors she noted with annoyance. How could that be more interesting than her?
She turned sideways, allowing her full warm flesh to brush against his arm. “Come on, Tiger,” she invited him, running her hand slowly up his thigh. “Show me again that fabulous new move we tried last night.” He had really turned her on and she wanted more. To her annoyance he remained distracted.
“Tasha, you are totally insatiable.” His clipped voice was an icy douche to her amorous intentions. He got out of bed and folded the paper at the article he’d been so engrossed in and placed it on the desk. He padded towards the bathroom. “Look, go and have a session in the salon or a massage or something and put it on the room bill. I have some phone calls I’ve got to make.”
Natasha paced the room in frustration. She always got her own way – except with Iain.
I should ditch him and find someone else.
Peering in the mirror, she checked carefully for any sign of wrinkles around her eyes and neck. Apart from anything else, she admitted privately, she needed to snare another husband before her looks started to fade. Iain was a challenge and it was tremendous fun knowing more about him and his life than his little mouse of a wife and vomit-worthy Princess. And he did get her the most fabulous presents, when she hinted clearly enough. She was experienced enough to know that if divorce hadn’t been mentioned by this stage of their relationship it never would be, and having exes littering the place was just so messy.
Time and tide waits for no man – or woman.
She needed her tide to sweep her in a new direction.
She glanced at the newspaper while she waited for her turn in the bathroom.
Interesting! Milward Farm - that’s where Iain met those other colleagues and workmen on Friday, while I was left kicking my heels in that ghastly little village. So now it’s big news, awash with eco-warriors, and Iain’s having forty fits. Well, well, well! It looks like a major delay
It was good being away from their normal lives, in Iain’s case a life that was getting to be too hectic these days, in Natasha’s case a life that was rather humdrum and boring on the whole if she was honest with herself. This was just the sort of spice she needed to perk up her week. Personally, she would have chosen to be clubbing and dining in London, but as Iain still insisted on a degree of secrecy they had to be more circumspect. It certainly leant a little frisson, a sense of naughtiness, to their being here together.
They had visited Castle Ashby House as Iain was considering it as a venue for a business meeting - what a luscious wedding venue! Natasha thought - and they picnicked by the river with oodles of champers. Having decided that Northampton had little to offer in the way of satisfying their current needs, they had headed west into Warwickshire and had strolled round Stratford-on-Avon until the mass of tourists heading for places like Shakespeare’s birthplace in Henley Street and the like became too much for them. Iain suggested the theatre but she had drawn the line at actually seeing a Shakespearean play. Her personal taste was to be seen at the latest West End shows.
Mainly she had enjoyed their lovemaking in the grand half tester bed in this bewitching 16th century manor house. The hotel, as it now was, was filled with fine antiques and they were treated like royalty.
She let the sheet slide beguilingly as she leaned forward to replace her coffee cup on the tray, almost, but not quite, revealing her large dark nipples. She stretched languorously, knowing Iain loved to see the way her breasts tautened when she raised her arms above her head, the way they were thrust forward so provocatively beneath the thin covering. Today, however, his eyes remained glued to the article he was reading in The Times, something about more eco-warriors she noted with annoyance. How could that be more interesting than her?
She turned sideways, allowing her full warm flesh to brush against his arm. “Come on, Tiger,” she invited him, running her hand slowly up his thigh. “Show me again that fabulous new move we tried last night.” He had really turned her on and she wanted more. To her annoyance he remained distracted.
“Tasha, you are totally insatiable.” His clipped voice was an icy douche to her amorous intentions. He got out of bed and folded the paper at the article he’d been so engrossed in and placed it on the desk. He padded towards the bathroom. “Look, go and have a session in the salon or a massage or something and put it on the room bill. I have some phone calls I’ve got to make.”
Natasha paced the room in frustration. She always got her own way – except with Iain.
I should ditch him and find someone else.
Peering in the mirror, she checked carefully for any sign of wrinkles around her eyes and neck. Apart from anything else, she admitted privately, she needed to snare another husband before her looks started to fade. Iain was a challenge and it was tremendous fun knowing more about him and his life than his little mouse of a wife and vomit-worthy Princess. And he did get her the most fabulous presents, when she hinted clearly enough. She was experienced enough to know that if divorce hadn’t been mentioned by this stage of their relationship it never would be, and having exes littering the place was just so messy.
Time and tide waits for no man – or woman.
She needed her tide to sweep her in a new direction.
She glanced at the newspaper while she waited for her turn in the bathroom.
Interesting! Milward Farm - that’s where Iain met those other colleagues and workmen on Friday, while I was left kicking my heels in that ghastly little village. So now it’s big news, awash with eco-warriors, and Iain’s having forty fits. Well, well, well! It looks like a major delay
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