Friday Oct 14
My body tensed with my overwhelming lust, my longing, to touch him. Suddenly, his face was so close to mine that I could taste his breath filling my mouth. I was fucking lost. My desire for him was so powerful it ripped open the knot that had tormented me all day. The pain dissipated into the air with his hankering lips, his seductive words. He filled my void for passion so completely, to the point that it was almost stretching it, overwhelming me with infatuation. Every inch of me crumbled with pleasure and relief. Chris once again captured my mind and heart. We looked at each other and we both knew that I would give up everything to have his stares, breaths, kisses, laughs, bodily fluids, touch, affection. I was back fully in love.
Saturday Oct 15
The day of the money bomb launch. Sneaking through a gap in the curtains was a beautiful sunny, warm day. Dublin weather was not predictable, so this was a bonus. What a pity it’s taking place in a pub, I thought. This beautiful weather makes no damn difference. I heard the shower running, so I got up and went to the bathroom, where I balanced my bum on the wicker laundry basket. Through the misted glass of the shower, I watched the rivulets of soapy water that ran down the ridges of Chris’s abdomen and thighs, down his long legs. In his usual systematic fashion, he ran his hands through his hair, down his neck and shoulders, along his flexing arm muscles. I love his body, I thought. I love touching it, tasting it, feeling his weight on me. Turning off the shower, he reached out through the condensation to grab his robe, and I handed it to him.
“I am enjoying the spectacle,” I teased him. The recognizable scent of shower gel stirred my sense of pleasure for a man who drove my body to delirium. I watched him intently as he casually rubbed his robe over his beautiful thick cock. He stood straddled in front of me, his firm legs apart, robe open.
“Take my cock,” he asked with a wry smile.
“You’re incorrigible, “I chuckled. My clit and thighs were still wet from the semen that he had erupted on me just before his shower. I felt so lucky to be the woman who woke up his desire.
“Come on, babe,” he said impatiently, his cock hard with craving.
I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “How would you suggest I do that?”
“Anyway you want.”
I kissed his lips and he responded with fervor. Suddenly, I stopped and stepped toward the door.
“I don’t have enough time to do you justice. I don’t want to have to stop just as you are in a state of ecstasy,” I explained.
He shifted and faced me head on, and his gaze slid over my face like a tangible caress. His face impassive, his stunning soft blue eyes were full of tenderness and love. With a quiet vulnerability he said, “I am all yours.”
I got down on my knees, cupping his cock in my hands. “You are all mine and I am all yours,” I murmured as I took him in my mouth.
With a pang of warmth, I picked up my set of keys to Chris’s house from the kitchen counter. They were a special gift from Chris.
I drove home at speed to dress for the money bomb launch. I slipped on the Michael Kors orange fitted shift dress I had purchased for this event and paired it with high black wedges that lengthened my slender frame. Chris had suggested I wear a black suit, but never being one to conform, I resisted. The strong, deep orange reflected my personality and gave off the exact aura of elegant sexiness I wanted.
The launch was, as I expected, a flop. Lillian and I strutted our stuff up and down the street in an attempt to entice people into a dark, stinking pub on a rare sunny Dublin day. Chris was amazed that I had no problem approaching strangers, offering them free coffee and tea if they came to the launch. Terrified the place would be empty when the press arrived, I had no choice. The band was setting up to sing their song “All I Wanted”, which was the fundraising theme song. Lillian was randomly putting up banners and placing bar mats branded with the money bomb logo and website. I looked around, wondering if I’d missed something. The PR event was being organized like a bingo game in a local community hall. I was shocked.
Chris stood at the back of the sparsely filled room shoulder to shoulder with Cathal. I stood on the stage, concentrating my view on Chris.
I delivered my speech in the dim light and the stench of old beer to a divergent solicited group of people, all of whom looked on in bewilderment as they sipped their refreshments. In my speech, I introduced the management team of the campaign, deliberately leaving Cathal out. I glanced at Cathal and noticed his face flared in the dimness of the room with fury at my slight. It was one of the most miserable events I had ever participated in or, for that matter, attended. I announced the arrival of the Candidate, who entered in his usual gregarious, bombastic way. He appeared oblivious of the ghastliness of the place and quickly worked his way to the stage, greeting the bodies along the way. He graciously complimented me on how I looked, then proceeded to introduce the money bomb fundraising drive. The band played the theme song while the fundraising video played on a large screen behind them. The event ended as it started, like a damp squid. I looked around for Chris but could not see him. Lillian told me that he and Joe had left urgently.
“Cathal is furious you omitted his name in your speech, so I think he demanded a meeting with the men,” she told me laughing. We both got a real chuckle at the idea of upsetting Cathal. He terrified Lillian. He was always abrupt, brash and downright rude in his interactions with her. Without lingering we departed the stinking, dingy pub, returning to the fresh air and sparkling sunlight.
I walked the few minutes to the campaign office to ensure that our social media was promoting the money bomb and to check my emails. I stopped at the reception for quick pleasantries with Liana.
“You look stunning today,” she kindly complimented me. “And you spoke well.”
I thanked her and climbed the steep stairs to the office space. As I rounded the corner of the last step, which faced the meeting room door, I noticed the “In Use” sign up. I passed quietly to my desk, placing my bag slowly and gently on the desk, and looked behind me, thinking I heard Chris’s voice. I stood for a few seconds intently listening to the slightly raised, frenetic quarreling going on behind the closed door. I tiptoed to the door. I put my hand on the door handle, turned it and pushed the door open, holding it ajar with my outstretched arm. There was instant silence, and there I stood with three sets of eye staring at me. Chris was at the head of the meeting table on one end, and Cathal was at the other end furthest from me. Joe was standing with his back to the window.
“What’s going on?” I expressly directed my question at Chris. His demeanor was subdued. His eyes looked strained. Before Chris could respond, Joe moved over to the door.
“We are having a private discussion.” The coldness of his tone cut through the air as he firmly shut the door against my body with my hand still on the doorknob.
I went back to my desk and turned on the computer to see how the money bomb was performing on Facebook and Twitter.
Incredulously, I couldn’t see any posts on Facebook or Twitter promoting it.
I felt exasperated. How did these idiots think the money bomb was going to work with no presence anywhere across our platforms? I hastily wrote a stinging email cc’d to everyone on the campaign including the Candidate. I caught up on unread emails. Each one brought bad news. Everyone bloody respected the candidate but did not want to offer financial support. To date, I had managed to bring in a mere €20,000 from a couple of uber-wealthy guys I knew well who were helping me out. To compound things, Lillian had forwarded me an email from our contact in London:
Dear Chris and Aliki,
It was good to see you both in London. Unfortunately, I am emailing you with some bad news. Firstly, I have not heard from your office Chris with information we agreed you would forward. Secondly, after some preliminary investigation, I am not getting a good response in relation to supporting the campaign. So I think at this stage, not to waste any of our valuable time, it’s best if we don’t move forward with what we discussed. Will follow with interest.
I replied to Lillian, ‘They are falling like flies.’
The only possibility we now had of fundraising was by small donors, powered through the money bomb. No one, especially Chris, seemed to get it. Just as I was about to shut down my computer, thinking the day couldn’t get any worse, an email from Chris came in. I was surprised he was writing to me when he was right next door.
Please find attached an email from Cathal that he has asked me to forward to you. You let off another one of your grenades with that speech. The Candidate is attending an awards ceremony in Mansion House this evening. He asked me to accompany him, why don’t you come with me?
Attached was a note from Cathal:
Thanks for your email with instructions on how to manage the campaign. With all due respect unlike you I am extremely experienced in running such campaigns and don’t appreciate comments from a novice. Secondly you are the fundraiser on this campaign, so please get on with your job. It does not appear to me so far that you are doing a good job in that capacity. I want a comprehensive list of funds raised to date and projections. I am at a meeting with Chris and Joe. We agreed that in the you will liaise with Joe, who will in turn relay messages or pass on emails to me. I expect your report by tomorrow five pm. Cathal
I was not angry or taken aback by either the email or the fact that Chris agreed to forward it. I now found the whole scenario comical.
In my usual impulsive fashion, I pinged back a response to Cathal and cc’d it to Chris and Joe.
I am tired of your rude and ignorant attitude.
Firstly I have no intention of answering to you regarding fundraising or any other matters relating to the campaign.
Get on with your job at which you are failing miserably and let everyone else get on with theirs. The low poll yesterday as a result of your unimaginative campaign strategy is detrimental to fundraising. You concentrate on getting the Candidate up in the polls. The only success you have had with this campaign is alienating me and collapsing the Candidate in the polls. Great legacy!!!
Just as I pinged it on I thought “This is crazy.”
I swung my chair around. I bounced over to the shut door and thrust it open. Standing right in front of me, about to leave the room, was Cathal.
“Who do you think you are?” I demanded between gritted teeth. Ignoring me, he roughly pushed past me and proceeded downstairs.
As though I were a ghost, Joe turned to Chris in exaltation, “Chris, you were magnificent with Cathal. You forcefully took him over.”
Joe applauded Chris.
Turning to me, Joe said,
“You should have seen Chris perform. As we walked into the room, Chris slammed the door and went for Cathal’s jugular.”
I had no idea what they were talking about.
“What’s going on? What happened?” I asked with bated breath.
“I will take you to lunch and tell you everything,” Chris said, pulling himself up from the chair like a proud peacock.
“Your speech was excellent. I was proud of you,” he said, adding to my confusion.
“Thanks, darling,” I cooed sarcastically.
“I am out of here, leave you lovebirds alone.” Joe gave Chris a smirky smile, collected his briefcase and left.
“Why did you send me that email?”
“Just optics. Keep Cathal happy. He is not too bad.”
“Are you nuts, ‘he is not too bad’. He shafted you, for god’s sake.”
“Well, I am back on the road show. I think it’s your grenades that are causing the problems, babe. So pleeeeeease no more grenades.”
At that moment, I realized that Chris was like a chameleon. He reflected whatever wavelength suited his intentions at that moment. He was like a child, excited that he was, in his mind, liked once again. Cathal, Chris told me over lunch, had nothing but respect for him, and he respected Cathal in turn. Chris believed Cathal when he said that he respected him. Chris was happy, beaming with the developments from the meeting. I did not have the heart to break his bubble and tell him that I believed Cathal was playing a game.
Eventide Love #8 part 3 Thursday 20 August.
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