Warhol's Prophecy

‘I want you,’ she breathed and kissed him again.

She felt his erection pressing against her as they clung to each other, and with one hand she squeezed it through the material of his trousers.

Walker groaned as he felt her urgent movements and he allowed one hand to glide up inside her skirt, brushing the smooth flesh of her thighs, his fingertips trailing over her skin with featherlight delicacy.

Hailey parted her legs slightly, allowing him better access.

Wanting him to touch her in that most intimate place.

When his fingers caressed the damp cotton of her panties she gasped aloud, feeling the pressure slowly and gloriously build.

Walker’s touch was expert, teasing. Allowing her excitement to build to even greater heights.

She allowed her head to loll back, allowed him to flick his tongue into the hollow of her throat, and then across to her earlobe.

He pushed her back towards his worktop, closing strong hands around her waist. Lifting her until she was sitting on the edge of it.

She lay back, stretching one leg out before her.

He slipped off her shoe, his gentle fingers stroking her foot, gliding between her toes. Then he dipped his head and took her little toe into his mouth. He sucked it gently for a moment, then moved to the next one, and the next, his tongue now probing where his fingers had been.

Hailey arched her back as she felt that slippery tumescence gliding up the inside of her ankle – then her calf. He paused at her knee, kissing the soft flesh at the rear, and she gasped aloud as he pushed up her skirt and continued to lick his way up her slender leg.

She felt his warm breath between her legs, even through the flimsy, sodden material of her panties.

He kissed her there, tasting her through the cotton.

Hailey lifted her bottom slightly, gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, pushing her pubis towards his eager mouth. Allowing him to slide her panties down her thighs.

Her skirt was up around her waist now.

She opened her eyes as she felt his tongue glide into the slippery wetness of her sex.

The pleasure was exquisite and growing by the second.

When the tip of his tongue slid across the stiff nub of her clitoris, she felt the first unmistakable feelings of warmth spread through her lower body.

She gripped the worktop even more tightly, her breathing now almost uncontrollable.

Hailey pushed herself against his tongue and mouth, her back arching once more as the sensations became stronger.

She turned her head to one side.

The portrait of Becky stared accusingly at her.

What are you doing?

Hailey could feel his tongue working more urgently, playing in and around her swollen vaginal lips and clitoris, as anxious to bring her to a climax as she was to reach one.

No, you can’t do this.

She felt two of his fingers outlining her labia, smearing her moisture through the downy hair of her pubis.

Stop it now. Stop him!

She stared across at the portrait of Becky, and those painted eyes fixed her in a piercing gaze.

No more. This isn’t just betraying Rob. It’s betraying Becky.

The waves of pleasure were building. Her climax was seconds away.

No.

She said it aloud.

‘No,’ she gasped.

For a second, Walker continued with his expert ministrations.

‘No,’ she insisted.

This time she pulled away from him, squirming across the worktop, her face flushed, and flecked with the perspiration of pleasure.

Walker stared at her.

At the expression on her face that had turned from one of pure pleasure to one of

(shock?)

distaste.

‘What’s wrong, Hailey?’ he asked, genuinely concerned.

‘I can’t do this,’ she breathed, pulling up her panties, pulling down her skirt.

He opened his mouth to say something.

‘This isn’t right,’ she said, stepping into her discarded shoe. ‘I can’t.’

Walker was also breathing heavily, his own excitement evident.

‘I’m sorry,’ she told him, and she was already heading for the door.

‘Take the painting,’ he called helplessly, motioning towards Becky’s portrait.

He heard the front door slam.

Heard the sound of her car engine bursting into life.

Walker bowed his head and exhaled deeply.

Almost painfully.

43

SHE WASN’T EVEN sure where she was when she at last stopped the car.

Hailey had been driving as if she was in a trance, grateful that the roads had been so quiet.

Now, finally, she pulled the Astra over and switched off the engine, her breath still coming in deep, racking gasps.

For what seemed like an eternity she sat behind the wheel, gazing aimlessly out of the windscreen at the trees that rose tall on both sides of the road. A light breeze whipped along the road, stirring fallen leaves – occasionally scooping them up into miniature whirlwinds that died as quickly as they had risen.

When Hailey shifted in her seat, she could feel the wetness between her legs – the desire still strong.

She looked into the rear-view mirror.

The face of Adam Walker looked back at her.

She blinked hard and looked again, but the image was gone.

She was looking at her own flushed features.

Hailey fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette and lit up, the Superking quivering between her fingers.

She closed her eyes and allowed her head to slump back against the headrest.

She thought about Walker.

About his tongue sliding so expertly between her legs.

Her eyes jerked open, as if to banish that image.

To force such feelings from her body.

You wanted him.

She sucked hard on the cigarette, took another couple of drags, then clambered out of the car.

The wind ruffled her already unkempt hair and she pulled her jacket tightly around her as she walked, unsteadily, along the path at the roadside.

There was a wooden bench about twenty yards further along, and she made for that, finally seating herself. She sucked in deep lungfuls of air, glancing up and down the road as if expecting to see Walker’s Ford Scorpio approaching.

What did you think you were doing back there?

She massaged her forehead with her fingertips.

You wanted him, and then you turned your back on him. Why?

Hailey knew that what she had intended was wrong.