Under His Influence

She would need every shred of protein and carbohydrate from her king prawn pad Thai over the course of the night. He bent her and twisted her, licked her and tasted her, marked her and filled her, in every permutation he could think of until exhaustion won over imagination and he permitted her to sleep at last.

It was her first dreamless sleep since they had met, and her brain made the most of it, sinking deep into the black oblivion, taking its time to repair and renew her overused body.

She woke, slowly and foggily, to his face bent over hers. Startled, she forced her eyes wide and sat up, staring around her at the unfamiliar room. John was fully dressed, suited and booted and ready for the City.

“Wass time?” she mumbled. “Shit. Shit, m’late for work.”

He kissed the panic out of her, diligently, unhurriedly, before breaking off and saying, “Don’t go in. Take the day off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Course you can. You look wrecked.” He chuckled, seeming to admire his handiwork and the dishevelled mess he had made of her. “Can you even walk?”

He had a point. Every muscle felt as if it had been warped out of shape. Her face was raw and lips swollen from kissing. As for lower down, she felt bruised, as if she had been kicked, almost. But the pain and the sting were sweet; she revelled in it, the evidence of John upon her body.

“Not sure,” she confessed, blushing. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Call in sick, if you must. But you know…” He bent his head closer, lips to her ear. “You don’t have to go there ever again, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, John, I need that job!”

“Not anymore. I’ve got money enough for both of us.” He sat down on the side of bed, taking her limp hand in his, looking into her eyes in that peculiar, ferociously intense way he had. “Come live with me and be my love,” he declaimed.

“You mean… Are you serious? John, it’s been one night…” She trailed off, not wanting to put him off this idea, which seemed, suddenly and blindingly, the absolute culmination of her every dream. She ignored every nagging “it’s too soon” impulse, letting his eyes drive them out of her head.

“I don’t know much,” he said, the smirk at the corner of his lips betraying the falseness of his modesty, “but I do know that life is short, love is rare and happiness has to be caught and caged when you find it. I don’t care what the normal form is, Anna. You’ll learn that about me. I do what I think is right, always—and if that happens to clash with the conventional wisdom, well…” He shrugged. “So be it. What do you say?”

“I say…all right.” Anna giggled, wanting to hide from the enormity of it. I’m signing up for something incredible. He took her in his arms, his eyes smiling along with his mouth now, his forehead meeting with her

s before the kisses started all over again.

“Oh God, I can’t,” he groaned, releasing her lips, which sang and stung with joy. “I wish I didn’t have to go into the office…”

“Take a sick day,” Anna suggested, grinning mischievously.

“Alas, a sick day is not an option for me. I have important meetings; meetings which I have to attend if I want to keep you in the style to which you will become accustomed, my love.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. But I ought to go back to my flat and collect a few things, otherwise what shall I do all day?”

“Rest. Sleep. The house is at your disposal—there’s a very well-stocked home cinema if you fancy watching a movie or two. Popcorn in the kitchen. I haven’t got the pool yet, but I’m working on it. If you’re up to the gym, there’s one upstairs. You’ll find plenty to entertain you, I’m sure. Now, I really must go soon, so why don’t you hop into the shower and I’ll cook you some breakfast.”

Anna’s mobile rang while she was tucking into bacon and eggs with a large pot of tea. She tried to stand—which was difficult—from the massive table in the huge kitchen, but John turned around from stacking the dishwasher and frowned at her.

“Ignore it,” he commanded.

“Why?”

“It’ll be your office. Let them live without you, just for one day. They’ll manage. You need to take some time out. Be kind to yourself, Anna, or you’ll force me to be kind for you.”

“It might be Mimi…” she demurred.

“Ah. Mimi. That’ll be your friend, will it? The one who took your phone off you? For your own good?”

“She meant well.”

“I’m sure she did.” His features softened. “And I mean well too. So perhaps you should give your phone to me.”

“Why?”