Mission Impossible 4

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Fortunately it rained heavily that Friday evening and a deep raincoat pockets could hide a multitude of sins; underwear, a snub-nosed 22, a razor sharp stiletto, or a small tin containing a soft compound for making key impressions.
Christian certainly had an interesting group of friends. Who knew that artists had such talents?

“Just press gently,” I’d been told. “Make sure you copy both sides of the keys.”
I’d practiced the technique a few times, just to make sure I got it right.

*

Marco’s man opened the door to me barely a minute after I pressed the bell. “Good evening, Miss,” he said, in that north London accent of his. I always found it amusing that he called me Miss, even though he knew that I was a married woman. “May I take your coat?”
I slipped off the damp garment and watched him hang it to the left of the key rack.

As usual a small supper had been prepared; sandwiches, vol-au-vents, dips – party food for two, before they got down to the real reason for the visit.

Marco always liked to talk about his day, just like he was a husband home from a hard day, conversing with his wife. That night he seemed even more talkative than ever, now and then breaking into Italian as his passions rose; which was something he did while we were making love, when he was near climax.

Half an hour later we were in the bedroom, Marco slowly stripping off my clothes, laying them in a neat pile on a beautiful Louis VX1 chair, stroking my skin, my breasts, my mound as he removed their coverings. Then he stood still while I removed his clothes, smiling as I returned the favour, finally grasping his fat penis and manipulating it gently until it had swelled to full hardness.

“How long do we have?” he asked.
“When I arrived we had an hour and a half,” I replied.
“Then we’d better get on with it.” His lips took possession of mine, his hands cupping my bottom, pulling me up so that I could wrap my legs around his hips.

I had to remind myself of the main reason why I’d wanted to see him; remind myself too that this man had lied to me about the pornographic photographs, and that somewhere in that room was hard, damning evidence of my infidelity.

Plan A

I rolled carefully away from him. He stirred, eyes flickering open.

“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home.”
“So soon?”
“It’s past time.”
“Shame, I could do that all over again.”
“If you think you have the energy, go ahead.”

He chuckled softly. “Give me ten minutes, Madam, and I’ll take you up on that.”
“I’ll be gone in ten. You’ll just have to hold that thought till next time. Go back to sleep, I’ll see myself out.”
“No. A gentleman always sees a lady to the door.”
My skin tightened. I had to stop him from coming to the door with me. “I know where the door is.”
“But I said-“
“I insist, you worked very hard to please me, and this lady is very, very grateful.”

He propped his head up on his hand and watched while I dressed. “You certainly have the strongest legs of any woman I have ever known.”
“All the better to squeeze you with,” I said, sitting down on the chair and sliding my shoes back on.
“However, I think your own performance was sufficiently memorable to make me behave like a gentleman, and see you out.”
He sat up and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I couldn’t keep insisting that I didn’t want him to see me out.

Plan B

“I just remembered that I have something for you,” I said.
“You have? What?”
“A present – but I left it in my coat pocket. I’ll be back in a second.” I was out through the door before he could move.
My heart was hammering as I descended the stairs, hoping that he didn’t decide to follow me.

The keys seemed to jangle over loudly when I lifted them, but the practice I’d done in Christian’s studio helped, and I was on my way back up the stairs in a couple of minutes.

Marco was wearing a loose trousers and an un-tucked shirt by the time I re-entered the bedroom. I held out the small box.
He smiled and took it. “It’s not my birthday,” he said, “and it’s certainly not Christmas.”
“I just saw them and I thought of you,” I answered, glad that I’d considered that he might ask why.
He flipped up the lid of the box. “Sono Belli! Magnifico! You are very kind. They are perfect.”~
“Now I really must be off,” I said.

He reached out and took my hand gently. “For that, you deserve to be made love to again,” he said.
“If I let you, I’ll be very late and how am I going to explain that?”
I kissed him lightly on the mouth, turned and walked out of the room, conscious of him following close behind.
At the door he helped me on with my damp coat, and then opened the door for me.

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