Under His Influence

Mimi trudged towards John’s beckoning finger. With each step, the air around her thickened and grew rich with sensuality, heating her skin and making her wetter than ever between the legs. By the time she arrived at John’s armchair, she craved his touch and she slid easily, gratefully, onto his lap, sighing with relief at the feel of him against her.

He enclosed her with one arm and passed the glass to her with the free hand.

“No, that’s awkward.” He frowned, taking the drink from her again. “Let’s do it this way.” He took a sip, and held the liquid in his mouth, seemingly taking the measure of its full-bodied flavour, then he tilted Mimi’s chin up, signalling that a kiss was coming her way. Before she knew it, he had her lips prised open and his tongue inside her mouth, while the stream of fiery brandy seeped from John to her, his taste mixed with alcohol, turning her chest and stomach to flame. She moaned and pressed closer, giving in to fate, understanding and accepting that his strength surpassed hers and the fight was lost.

The lascivious imbibing continued, sip after sip, kiss after kiss, John rubbing the silken blouse against Mimi’s nipples as he fed her until her body passed beyond her control, weakened and inflamed at the same time, a vessel in which to pour his desires.

Her buttons were undone, one by one, slowly but deftly, and when the glass was empty, Stone took the soft flesh of her neck between his teeth and sucked at it, hard, a vampire smelling blood, a satyr smelling sex.

Mimi ground her bottom into his crotch and let her legs fall open, wordlessly begging his hand to move lower. He took her hint and used the hand that was not kneading her breasts to attend to her knickers, diving down inside the elastic and finding the luscious slickness within. Mimi’s first semicoherent thought since landing on his lap was, A man who can find the clitoris without even looking, he exists. She began to push herself onto his wicked fingers, jerking and grunting, giving herself to him.

“You’re going to come,” whispered John, exerting the perfect amount of pressure on the greedy swollen bud. “For the first time of many tonight. Do it, Miranda, come for me now.”

Her spine stiffened, then sagged as the orgasm of her life took her over, mind, body and soul. Tears fell, her helpless cries poured out and her ears were still pounding minutes later.

Except that wasn’t just her ears.

“John, I think…there’s someone at the door.”

The hammering started again, loud and insistent. Then a deep voice, unfamiliar to both, through the letter box.

“Mr. Stone. Police. Please open the door.”

“What the fuck?” John cursed, tipping the still-depleted Mimi from his lap and scowling down from the window. “Two coppers. What’s happened?”

“Has something happened to Anna?” Mimi asked with urgency, buttoning up her blouse and joining him at the window.

“No, no, I’d know. The psychic link. Anna’s fine. She’s safe.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, shouldn’t we find out?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Miranda.” He flapped the curtain fiercely shut and began pulling on pants and a shirt. “I suppose I ought to go. Luana won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Police aren’t her thing.”

“Is she an illegal?”

“Shut up. Wait here.”

Barefoot, in open-collared shirt and unbelted trousers, John sped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Mimi, unable to obey this command, pulled on her trousers and followed him, hanging back just far enough to be out of his earshot.

She watched him pull open the huge front door and stand, arms folded, head cocked to one side.

“Officers? How can I help?”

“Mr. Stone? John Stone?”

“I am he.”

“We’ve had two separate reports of domestic incidents at this address—both callers expressing concern for your wife. Can I ask if everything’s all right, sir?”

“Everything’s fine. As you see. If it’s my sister doing the reporting, you should know that it’s malicious.”