His Mistress’s Voice Read Online Free PDF

bathrobes but instead had chosen the more provocative outfit in which she had arrived. It was almost as if she had read his mind and had known that this would please and excite him.
    ‘Will you dry my back, please,’ she asked. Tom took the towel and she turned away from him to present her wet back. Tom rubbed her down and draped the towel over one of the chairs. When his hands were free, Beth leaned back against him and rested her head on his shoulder. Tom put his arms around her from the back and held her breasts in his hands. Beth brought her own arms up over his, hugging him to her tightly. Her damp hair was cool on his chest.
    ‘You really don’t have to cook an elaborate meal. A sandwich would be fine and takes less time anyway.’
    ‘I wanted to do something elaborate. And anyway, I’m getting tired of sandwiches. We always eat something fast. This time I’ll take the time to make a proper meal for you, and I can put in the time admiring your bod. You go sit there,’ he said, indicating a chair across the table, ‘where I can see you. I’ll get on with the food.’ He released her and gave her a gentle shove.
    ‘Do you really want to just look?’ Beth asked with a grin. ‘I can think of other things I’d enjoy more.’ That was the kind of remark which he’d remember at odd moments during their time apart, when he was supposed to be doing the things that made up the other part of his life, and he’d lose himself in reveries of their last encounter – to the dismay of the other people he had to deal with. His absences and vacancies were becoming more marked. His work was beginning to suffer. He was close to believing that Beth was the most important thing in the world, and their weekend trysts the only reason for getting through the rest of the time. Understandable in a teenager; not so in a man of thirty-four who had to earn his own living.
    ‘If you’re absolutely committed to the idea of cooking, I have an idea that may liven up the process for both of us. Do you have any rope in the flat? Grocery string or clothes line, for example?’
    Tom thought for a moment, mentally taking an inventory of his closets. ‘Have a look in the airing cupboard. There should be something left over from my linen line.’ He knew that she intended some sort of bondage, but couldn’t guess exactly what she had in mind. It was characteristic of Beth’s approach to sex that she was always full of ideas which he would have called bizarre in someone else. Indeed he had found them so when he first met them in Beth, but the bizarrerie had become commonplace, helped by Beth’s matter-of-fact approach to whatever she had in mind, and by his increasing reliance on her judgement in matters sexual. He was much readier to suspend his own judgement and bow to Beth’s whims than he had ever been with any other woman. She was very close to becoming the arbiter of his taste and the major influence in his life.
    Beth went to search the cupboard and Tom continued with his preparations. He heard the sound of doors opening and the sound of her high heels rat-tat-tatting on the floors as she searched the flat. Eventually she came back with a little grin of triumph. In her hand she carried a coil of clothes line. She uncoiled it and measured it by eye. ‘About 30 feet,’ she said. ‘That should do. Tom, I want you to take enough time out from your cooking to tie me to one of these chairs. Then you can use your imagination about where to go from there.’ There was an impish grin as she looked at him. ‘You’ll probably need to cut off some convenient lengths, but I’ll leave the details to you.’ She handed the rope to him and sat down on the chair nearest the stove.
    She crossed her legs with a whisper of nylon and he felt his stomach lurch with the glory of her. And she’s here with me, he thought. The ball was in his court. Tom picked up the rope and ran it through his hands, taking the kinks out of it. There was a carving