Indigo Bloome Collection: The Avalon Trilogy: Destined to Play, Destined to Feel, Destined to Fly

Patrick swiftly clamps my mouth shut with his thick fingers. Jeremy shifts my arms above my shoulders, which Patrick obligingly pins to the bed with his solid football legs. I groan without much success of creating any real noise.

What now? I think. They must be exhausted. I am.

Apparently not.

Jeremy reveals an ice bucket overflowing with ice cubes that he sits up on the bed. He then ever so slowly works the ice over the skin on the inside of my arms, round and round my underarm, across my chest and then repeats the sequence on the other side. My body begins to react to the sensation of the freezing ice sliding and dripping over my overheated body. As he reaches my breast, he circles and circles, needing new ice cubes as they disintegrate into droplets over my burning skin. At the same time as Jeremy is tantalising my nipples, Patrick has ice rolling languidly over my lips, teasing ice into my mouth and playing with my tongue. My arms are numbing under the weight of his legs, becoming useless weapons of protest. I am thirsty for the ice in my mouth so I let him torment me until he relinquishes each cube down my throat. So focused am I on this that I barely notice Jeremy finishing with my nipples and continuing his mission further south, leaving a small bundle of ice jiggling around my belly button. Patrick doesn’t allow my nipples to feel neglected for a moment and continues where Jeremy left off. I am literally drowning in sensory stimulation. Jeremy begins thoroughly and completely icing my vulva, sending shivers all over my body, until he eventually slides a cube skilfully into my vagina. My back arches instantaneously at the sensation.

‘Please …’ I say breathlessly, to someone, anyone.

Jeremy slides another ice cube deeply into me. The sensation of the frozen cube being pushed into a tunnel so hot sends my body throbbing internally as it tries to reject the frozen, harsh invader biting into my over-sensitised flesh. Before it has the chance, he gently coerces another ice cube along the same path, his eyes completely absorbed with the impact his actions are having on my body.

Just as I can’t take any more of the fire and ice competing within my body, Jeremy squeezes my legs together tightly, bound either side by his and devours my mouth in his. As Patrick holds my head in his lap, I can feel his throbbing erection next to my skull. He repositions himself to once again ice my surprisingly sensitive underarms before slipping my arms out from underneath him and pinning each arm to my side, thereby trapping the ice in position. Jeremy had ensured my mouth and southern tunnel were inundated with ice as his body restricts and limits my movements. I feel like an inside-out igloo. The sensation of so much body heat on the outside and being trapped frozen from within is like nothing I have ever experienced. My entire being ripples with the sensation of freezing and burning simultaneously, ripples with uncontrollable tremors as the heat from my body aggressively devours the ice in my oral and vaginal cavities. The frozen intruders compete with the natural habitat they are invading as my brain becomes numb with the sensory overload my body is experiencing.

I can’t scream. I don’t scream.

The boys don’t release me until I achieve meltdown.

When I do, Jeremy lowers himself to dramatically exhume the diluted juices he has created, wholly and completely. Although consumed with frost, I am wet with lust and desire and erupt volcanically.

‘See, Alex, I have told you many times only good things come from a sincere vodka cheers. Quite an experience, wouldn’t you agree?’

I am too fervently spent to comment.

The strange thing is, I never did find out whether they had planned it that way, or the whole experience just happened during the flow of the evening …

I attempt to dislodge the salacious memory from my mind and focus on exactly what Jeremy is doing.

‘That looks very technical. What on earth are you preparing over there?’

‘Not as technical as it looks, but we may as well make it worthwhile. It’s not like we’re together very often, after all. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve opted for the Hemingway version given it is Friday afternoon. It is a little more involved than the French version and the Bohemian version is sure to set off the fire alarms.’

His explanation doesn’t help my confusion.

He ceremoniously scoops up two frosted glasses of opalescent milk and hands one to me.

I lift the glass to my nose to sniff the contents as I raise my eyebrows in suspicion. It smells heavily sweet with an anise or liquorice undertone.

‘It is the drink of Vincent van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway.’ If this is meant to enlighten me, it fails. Before I have a chance to question him further, he makes a toast. ‘To you, Alexandra, to exploring and discovering the enlightened version of yourself. And of course, to the blossoming of your roses,’ he adds with a mischievous and knowing wink.

I may be wearing the most beautiful dress I have ever worn, feeling more glamorous than I have ever felt, but all of a sudden, we are back at uni, about to embark on some playful, boundary-breaking adventure together — again. I am as excited and apprehensive as a small child going to their first theme park and I allow myself to be swept away in the alluring, mysterious unknown of this weekend, knowing Jeremy would never do me any real harm.

And I know better, for many reasons, than to decline him at this point.

‘Skol.’

‘Slainte,’ I respond, as per our tradition of saying cheers in the language of one of the countries we have visited together. I look up directly into his eyes, before allowing the icy-cold liquid to slide smoothly down my throat, its potency striking alarmingly fast, warming my blood without delay.

‘That’s the spirit, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. This weekend is meant to be.’

‘What on earth was that, Jeremy?’

‘Absinthe, sweetheart, the green fairy.’

Jeremy sets his glass down and walks over to me slowly and assuredly. I can’t accurately pinpoint the look in his eyes.

‘So, Alexandra, are you ready to say goodbye now?’ I look at him quizzically.

‘We’ve only just said hello. I thought you wanted a full forty-eight hours.’ The rush of the absinthe permeates my brain as I wonder what he means.

‘It means it is time to deliver what you promised me.’ He takes my hand and strokes ever so gently beneath my palm, his fingers barely touching the skin. I take a deep breath and try to stay as calm and even as possible.

‘You mean to stay the weekend? Jeremy, you know I’ve already promised you that, it’s okay. I will still stay.’ My words sound weak and wasted in their attempt to sound conversational. Jeremy can feel my pulse start racing at his previous words as his fingers are cleverly positioned on my inner wrist. What was I thinking? Trying to fool a doctor. Trying to fool Jeremy!

‘You are toying with me, Alex. You know exactly what you promised.’ He continues keeping track of my pulse as I attempt to look elsewhere, anywhere but him.

‘Oh, you mean in the bath? Is that what you’re talking about?’ He shakes his head in condescension, but still has a smile on his face.

‘Yes, GG, that is exactly what I’m talking about. You didn’t think I had forgotten, did you?’

His words are loaded with innuendo from our ancient past whilst melding perfectly into this present moment. I pull away from him, attempting to put some physical and emotional distance between us.

‘What was it again? I wasn’t fully focused on our discussion at the time. Something about the lecture … senses, was it?’ I say flippantly, trying to lighten the mood, although something inside me wishes I hadn’t asked given his furrowed brow, his silence intensifying the moment.

‘You weren’t serious, Jeremy? You can’t have been. I thought you were just teasing, you know, just wanting to heighten the experience …’ He interrupts me.

‘I asked you to promise me two things. No vision and no questions.’ He pauses for effect. ‘For forty-eight hours. Simple really. Nothing a smart, intelligent, woman such as yourself can’t understand I’m sure.’ My palms moisten at his words. He continues, in a serious, no-nonsense manner.

‘Alexandra, you know better than anyone that I don’t ever, ever joke or tease about promises.’ He looks at me intently but allows me to keep my distance. Oh god, he was serious, he honestly wants to follow through with this. Typical, just when I’m starting to relax and have some fun. Such a Jeremy thing to do, to take the situation to a whole other level that puts me on edge all over again. I know full well that he is right. He takes promises more seriously than anyone else I know. What was I thinking? Making stupid mindless promises, all for the short-term satisfaction of a mind-blowing orgasm. Ah, but what an orgasm … and I haven’t had one for soooo long … And the promise of more is almost too much to bear. Focus! I castigate myself.

‘Well, Jeremy,’ I say in a serious voice, attempting to harden my resolve and stand my ground. ‘You did make me promise under duress and you know as well as I do, that it doesn’t count.’ I can only hope I am matching his language and energy as a last resort at getting out of this.

‘Ah. So you do remember. We have progress. Would you really call that duress, sweetheart? It certainly seemed to me like you were more than enjoying yourself.’ His words are as wry as his smile.

‘Even so, it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t duress. You knew I was in a situation of weakness and just played on it.’ I’m trying to sound convincing.

‘Are you ready?’ he says firmly. Obviously the time for discussion is over.

‘Really? You want to go through with this stupid promise thing? It’s so silly, nonsense really. We don’t need our time together to be like this, Jeremy. It would be so much nicer to spend time together without … well, without … having this tension between us, without playing games. We’ve grown up, there is no need for this. It is just childish,’ I say, my rising alarm giving way to a little exasperation.

His eyes narrow and zero in on mine as he steps toward me. I automatically take a step back; I can’t help myself, as if erring on the side of caution, attempting to avoid the enveloping sense of danger, as enticing as it may be. He continues to close in on me. As I step back again I realise I have reached the edge of the table. What was I meant to do now, run? It seems ridiculous, running away from my best friend, my ex-lover. I don’t want to run and therein lies the problem. I have to reason with him.

‘Please, Jeremy, please, must you do this?’ I say urgently, almost begging for both time and space. He places his arms on either side of my body, wedging me firmly against the table. His body presses against mine, my personal space vanishes and I have nowhere to go other than hold firm or lie backwards on to the table. I feel his eyes penetrate me, seeking my soul with their glare and know I must avoid looking at him at all costs, knowing that if I do, they will bore straight through me and penetrate my inner sanctum. There is no need for him to feel my pulse now; he can sense it all over my body. Like a Formula One racing car driver, my pulse only has one pace — fast.

‘Alex.’ He is close, firm, dominating. I sense his patience is diminishing rapidly. ‘You promised; you know what that means between us. You know we never promise something we can’t commit to, to ourselves or to each other. It has been that way since we met. Our word is our bond.’

The intensity of his words and the force of his response momentarily stun me. I hadn’t anticipated the heated emotion trapped within them. A deep shiver runs down my spine. Once again my mind replays the promise memory again as if on cue, conjuring up the same images as before. I remember his words had a similar tone and finality.

‘You know I am serious, Alexandra, I won’t let this go.’