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This
is a work of fiction, loosely based on the real person, Russell Crowe. No
insult or injury is intended, this story is for entertainment purposes only. This
story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual
situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any
"discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these
situations.
Remission by:
©
11/2004 Chapter
5
Mari has received a letter from
Alan Richardson, director of SOHO Galleries in Sydney. He is interested in her
work and has suggested a meeting. She is going to Sydney in a fortnight. The studio is in a mess, all
around her canvases on display. She needs to choose which ones she will take
with her. She is arranging them. Acrylics on one side, mixed media on the other.
Her work is very modern, mostly abstract. She prefers to work with acrylic
paints, but also uses oils, ink, graphics and collage technique. Not all of her
canvases are out. Some are safely locked away. To stay there. Not to be seen by
anyone. She hasn't heard from Russell
all week. Mari dismisses him from her mind, not allowing herself to miss him.
She can't stop her dreams though. He's in her dreams constantly. She feels hungry. Almost eight,
no wonder. She goes to the kitchen and checks her fridge. Not too many options,
it will have to be steak with potatoes and a salad. She turns on the oven,
washes the potatoes and slices them in parts, leaving the skin on.
Marinating them with a little olive oil, garlic, rosemary, pepper and salt. She
uses her hands to mix the parts with the oil. Dish in the oven. After a few
minutes the warm smell of garlic spreads through the kitchen. She slices and
mixes some veggies. She turns to get the steak and there he is, standing in the
open door. Before she has time to think
she's in his arms, kissing him with a passion that frightens her. Jesus, how she
missed him. He looks tired. Dead-tired. "Oh, darling, you look
completely bushed. Why didn't you let me know you were coming back? How are
things? Are you hungry? Do you want something the eat?" He would like to eat something.
She gets two beers out of the fridge and he sits down at the table. "Just
sit there and tell me everything while I finish dinner." He tells her about the new
movie. He will play a British naval captain. "Lucky" Jack Aubrey.
Peter Weir has written a script based on Patrick O'Brian's canon. Time's set
during the Napoleonic Wars. It involves sailing ships, sea-battle and sword
fights. He has been doing a lot of research. Reading the books. Training. He has
to learn to play the violin. Lot's of new challenges. She serves him the steak. He
eats like a wolf. ~*~ He's flat on his back, out cold.
Mari made him strip down to his boxer briefs and put him to bed. She on her side
next to him, fully dressed, observing him. His hair is getting real long now.
Her fingers trail down his forehead, the bridge of his nose, lightly touching
the perfect cupid bow of his mouth. Caressing his cheek, the scruffy beard.
Further down his neck. Feeling him. Down his naked chest, light brown hairs
shining golden in the glow of her night light. Stroking his tummy, slowly, in
circles. He is so beautiful she could cry. How could she think that she has any
choice in the matter? When he's around she has no will. All her planning, making
up her mind about things, out of the window. Oh,
please, God, let there be a chance for us. She cuddles closer to him, laying
her head on his shoulder, crossing her leg over his. Closing her eyes. Happy
now. Mari wakes up. Opens her eyes.
He's watching her. Slowly stroking her arm. He turns on his side and takes her
in his arms. Kisses her. Gently at first. Nibbling on her upper lip, lower lip.
His tongue softly searching its way around her mouth. Taking her full mouth,
hard and demanding. She's wide awake now. His hard body against hers, making her
feel how hard he is. Needing her. His hands are all over her. Under her shirt,
softly squeezing her breasts, hardening her nipples. She reaches above her head,
takes the shirt off. His mouth on her bra, softly biting her nipples through the
satin. She moans with pure delight. Her hands in his hair, down ward caressing
his strong neck, shoulders and back. He gets on his knees between her legs.
Unbuttoning her jeans. His mouth on her soft belly, tongue tracing, licking her
bellybutton. His breath warm on her wet skin. He tugs at the jeans. She wriggles
to be free of them. His mouth on her panties, wetting the delicate fabric.
Pressing. She is losing her mind, wanting
him so badly. Pulling at this hair, wanting him on her, in her. "Oh,
God.....I want you inside me, baby, please....I need to feel you inside
me...please, darling..." His boxers are off. She sees how hard and big he
is. He takes off her soaked panties. Lowers himself on top of her. She feels his
hard cock searching for her entrance. She is so wet, so ready for him. He's
slowly moving inside her now, careful not to hurt. She pushes her legs up.
Around his hips. Pushes her pelvis up. Eager for him to go all the way. With one
hard thrust he is deep inside her, moving in and out, in and out.... Her hands
frantic stroking his back, his ass. Squeezing. Pulling him deeper and deeper.
She is lost. Never ever before has she felt so close to someone. His hoarse
voice. "Mari, come for me, luv. Look at me. Oh, fuck, baby, you are so
beautiful....look at me..." His face, so intense. She tries
to focus. Can't. She screams his name out loud, coming hard, her orgasm taking
over her body and mind, wave after wave. She feels his muscles stiffen under her
hands. Close now. Groaning. "Oh Fuck! Yes! Yes, darlin', fuck me,
fuck me hard, ....Oh, Jesus, baby..." He collapses on top of her.
Spent. She holds him in her arms,
rocking him gently. Her hands caressing every inch of him, her mouth sucking up
the sweat from his temples, licking his neck. She never wants to let him go. His
breathing slows. He turns on his side, taking his weight off her, holding her
close. His eyes smiling so brilliantly, bringing tears to her eyes. "Hey,
luv, you OK?" So tenderly. She nods, not able to speak. She is okay.
She buries her face in his
armpit, breathing in his masculine scent, her nose deep in his soft wet hair.
She kisses the mole under his arm. The little moles above his nipple. His skin
is smooth, soft over the hard muscles. Licks his nipples, sucks, gently bites
them. They get hard in her mouth. She pushes him down, turning him on his back.
Crosses one leg over, taking off her bra. Bends over him so her breasts touch
his skin. She caresses him with her breasts. His chest, his tummy. Lower now.
Her breasts on his cock. He is breathing faster. She feels a tremble in his
legs. His cock stirs. Awake again, getting hard between her breasts. She goes
lower, taking him in her mouth, her tongue tasting him, tasting herself on him.
Gently first, softly sucking and licking. Observing him. His body arches, head
thrown back. Sucking harder now, taking him as deep as possible. He moans. She
lets him go. He wriggles his hips, searching for her. She poises herself over
him. Slowly lowering on his cock, moving her hips back and forth, back and
forth....
His hands are on her, moving all
over, caressing her swollen breasts. O God! His hands....her skin burning under
his touch. She is so close again. Needs him to touch her there. "Russell,
touch me, please, touch me...." He presses his thumb against her clit,
gently rubbing her, sending electric vibrations all through her body. "Oh,
yes! Oh, harder, baby, please....Oh, God help me....I'm coming. Oh, baby
....yes, YES!" She falls against his chest. He raises himself. Holding her
up, still moving inside her. His mouth on her breast. She finds his rhythm
again. Moving faster and faster, pumping him, watching his face. He throws his
head back and shouts her name. His whole body rigid and shaking. They crash on
the bed. Their hot and sweaty bodies close together. Her back against his chest. Her ass against his loins. His arms around her. His mouth against her ear. "Tired, luv?" She is. Tired and more happy than she's ever been in her life. He reaches for the covers. "Sleep, darlin'."
Chapter Six or Index for Remission
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