A few minutes later she learned the answer. She was wearing a long silk skirt with a slit up the side almost to the top of her legs. She knew Marcus found it sexy. She was chatting with the guest on her left now, and she could hear Marcus talking too, but she knew his eyes were upon her, his gaze boring into her. Then she felt something stroking her leg. Good God, it was his foot. He had his shoe off and the touch was smooth. But then, he always wore silk socks. A second foot found its way inside her skirt and eased her knees apart. This was ridiculous. She felt herself flush. She shot Marcus an imploring glance, but now he wasn’t even looking in her direction. He was deeply in conversation with the politician’s wife on his right who looked as if she would like to take him upstairs immediately. Typical bloody Marcus. He could always do about ten things at once and give nothing away. Nobody in a million years would suspect what he was doing with his feet. The second foot had reached its target now, he was using his toes expertly. On some kind of automatic pilot she felt herself widen her legs. Immediately the second foot joined the first and with much wiggling of toes he eased her flimsy knickers to one side and pushed a big toe inside her, playing with her. Valiantly she tried to compose herself and to carry on listening to the Sunday paper editor sitting next to her pontificate about privacy and the press. Fortunately he barely drew breath, so she didn’t have to speak, and he was so carried away with his own self-importance that he didn’t notice the curious expression on her face. She knew she had gone quite red, and she was having difficulty controlling her breathing.
She was vaguely aware of Marcus making something of a show of dropping his napkin. When he bent down to pick it up he grabbed her right foot, slipped off her shoe, and placed her stockinged foot firmly on his crotch. He was still talking and had completed his task so smoothly she was sure nobody would have noticed a thing. Anyway, who except Marcus would get up to tricks like this in public with his own bloody woman, she thought to herself. Good Lord. Her foot was actually touching his naked cock, she realised with a slight start which she hurriedly tried to disguise as a hiccup. Marginally less embarrassing than revealing that you were involved in a mutual masturbation session at the dinner table. His flies were undone beneath his napkin. How on earth had he managed that? OK you bastard, she thought, now stay cool, Jennifer. She slipped off her other shoe and with her two stockinged feet went to work on him like crazy. By the time dessert had been served she noticed with some satisfaction that his conversation had at last started to falter. His eyes were shining, and he had that tremble in his lip which always happened when he was terribly excited. It will serve the bastard right if I make him come right now, she thought. Then she realised he was speaking to her, and that her own breathing had quickened to short sharp gasps. This was terrible. She was losing control.
‘Darling, I knew we shouldn’t have come,’ she heard him say sympathetically.
She looked at him in horror and realised that only she would be remotely aware of any possible double meaning as he explained to the assembled throng that poor Jennifer had been suffering from an asthma attack that day and it had been a little optimistic to attend this dinner but they had both so wanted to be here. It seemed to be coming on again. He paused and looked at her. She could cheerfully have throttled him. He must take her home, he continued, and so with apologies he was on his feet and around the table and helping her out of her chair. Her knees felt shaky. Asthma indeed! Still, at least it meant nobody expected her to speak. With some concern she looked down at his trousers. His flies were done up. How had he managed that so quickly and without even her noticing? He was a magician. She couldn’t trust herself to attempt to say goodbye.
They left quickly. Marcus walked her down the driveway towards the main road, assuring his hosts that he could pick up a taxi there easily. As soon as the front door was shut he took her by the arm and dragged her into the shrubbery to the side of the house. He flung her against a tree trunk and pushed her skirt up around her waist.
‘You bugger,’ she said.
But she was referring to the sweet torture of the dinner table, not what he was doing now.
‘Yes please,’ he said.
She pulled his face towards her and clamped her mouth on his, forcing his lips apart with her tongue. Eagerly he sucked her tongue inward and their mouths became fused together. His hands tore at her and he crumpled her skirt carelessly with his urgent embrace. That would never be the same again. He clawed at her tights, reducing them to shreds as he ripped them apart. She fumbled urgently with his flies, she wanted to get at him every bit as much as he wanted to get at her. With one strong arm he lifted her slightly off the ground, her back wedged against the tree, and she wrapped her legs around him. He forced her pants to one side and thrust himself straight into her. He knew he wasn’t going to last, he adored this kind of sex. Within a couple of minutes he exploded inside her and he was far too quick for her. He came out of her and she stood there before him with her legs apart, still gasping for it.
‘Do you remember by the dustbins all those years ago?’ she asked, her voice dry with desire. ‘It was like that again, wasn’t it?’
When he could speak he agreed that it was and said to her: ‘Come on, let’s go back to my place, and then I’ll make it happen for you again and again, I promise.’
She could still barely breath. The itch inside her was driving her mad and she told him she couldn’t wait, he had to make her come where they were, he had to. Obediently he dropped to his knees, his fine dinner suit probably ruined for ever in the mulch of leaf mould on the ground, and sucked her into a climax. She shouted in triumph and it lasted a long time. When he raised his head for air he said he hoped nobody inside the house had heard and she told him graphically how little she cared about that.
‘You started it, you sex-crazed beast.’
Laughing together, they adjusted their clothing as best they could, walked out into the road and hailed a taxi.
By the time they reached Marcus’s house he was ready again, and they made love for hours on the big bed. He never seemed to tire of her. In the middle of the night when he was deep inside her he asked her to marry him. She was shocked; she had not expected that. She had never given a thought to marrying Marcus, and they had never before discussed marriage. To her surprise she heard herself say that she would, she cried that she would. When they had finished he reached under the bed and handed her a small package. It contained a beautiful diamond engagement ring.