Page 64 of Always Alchemy

I have a very clear vision in my mind for this scene. My wife, undone on the table, an intoxicating concoction of silk and legs and lace, while I’m the marauding invader who’s been caught plundering her. I want it to look exactly asthough Graf has intruded upon a private moment while giving the viewer—or voyeur—precisely none of the access to those parts of her that delight me so much.

I put a hand behind her head and lower her gently down onto her back. Her arms fall out to the sides. It’s a wonderfully submissive pose. ‘Lovely. Now, shimmy back a little and put your legs up. I want your heels on the table.’

She obliges, raising her knees and planting her nude stilettos on the polished walnut. As she does, I push the skirt of her dress up so it pools in a soft pile of silk around her waist, giving me and me alone a perfect view of her thong and the camera, a beautiful old Leica M6 already set up on its tripod to one side, the lovely sight of the lace tops of her stockings, her suspender straps, and the golden curve of her arse.

I stroke it gently. ‘How’s this? You comfortable giving everyone this view?’

She smiles up at me, trusting me. ‘Yes.’

‘Excellent. You know, my wife looks very, very sexy lying on my old boardroom table.’

Our eyes lock. We’re both thinking the same thing.

‘I wish it had just been you that time,’ she whispers.

I nod. ‘I know. So do I. But we got here in the end, didn’t we, darling? And we’re here now, so let’s make it count.’

I lean forward and begin unbuttoning her blouse. This ivory lingerie she has on today is veryHitchcock heroine, and it’s making me hard. I get the buttons down to just above her navel and tug at the blouse so it falls prettily open, exposing not only the curves of her breasts but the lace of her corset. Once I’ve got her just exposed enough, I fan her hair out so it lies in platinum locks across the glossy wood.

‘Now, you lie nice and still until they get back,’ I croon, brushing my knuckles down her cheek and over her jawbefore trailing my fingertips down the valley of her breasts and further south. ‘Let’s see what we have here.’

Hereis the scrap of lace bisecting her legs. It’s damp and warm and wispy enough to move easily when I drag it to one side so I can shove two fingers deep inside my wife. She gazes up at me, lips parting in an O of approval, and I have the oddest feeling of being in two places, two times, at once. I’m here with her now, and I’m back in that—this—room again, watching like a drooling fucking dog as Max and David touched every place on her body that I craved.

She’s sohot, so wet; she’s home and heaven and everything I’ve ever wanted. And I am the only man on this earth who gets to touch her. To explore her. To drive her higher and higher.

‘Feel that?’ I murmur, and she nods.

‘Mmm. Yes. Just like that.’

I stroke my thumb over her clit for a few moments, noting with extreme gratification how it swells under my touch. She starts to move, starts to grind her needy cunt against my hand. I’m rock fucking hard as my wife fucks my hand.

‘God, darling, hurry up,’ she moans, writhing on the table. Her eyelashes are fluttering, her head is turning from side to side as I work her.

‘I intend—’ I begin, and then stop abruptly at the intrusive click of the office door opening.

‘Fuck,’ Gen says feebly. It strikes me that she’s too close to actually give a shit about us being caught. I jerk my head around, my fingers still inside her.

It’s Graf.

‘Give us five minutes,’ I order.

‘No fucking way,’ he spits out. ‘That’s the shot, right there.’

He’s right, I realise. Even without having his vantage point, I know instinctively that we’ve just arranged ourselves in precisely the way I’d envisioned being shot—without the extra touch of my cunt-soaked fingers, possibly.

‘Okay,’ I concede. ‘If Gen’s happy, let’s go ahead and get this done.Quickly.Your gang can stay outside.’

‘Go for it,’ Gen manages, and I turn to her and smirk.

‘That’s quite the breathy little voice you’ve got there, darling,’ I say under my breath.

‘Fuck you,’ she mouths, and my grin broadens. That’s my girl.

I withdraw my fingers delicately, both to piss Gen off and for the sake of common decency, and pull her thong temporarily back over her pretty pink cunt, but I keep my hand there, resting on her pubic bone.

Graf has advanced to the camera which, if Gen’s head is at twelve o’clock, is probably at four or five o’clock. Whoever looks at this image should feel exactly like a voyeur. From what I can tell, this angle will capture my arse in its bespoke trousers, that perfect curve of arse and leg and stocking, and my wife’s aroused face.

‘Okay, turn your faces towards me, both of you,’ Graf orders, stooping to look through the viewfinder. ‘Genevieve, I want yours twisted but relaxed, as though you’re in the throes of—yes, not unlike that, actually. Very good. Anton, I want a more aggressive twist of your body. Bring that right shoulder towards me. I want you looking outraged that you’ve been caught in the act. Understood?’

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