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He was sitting in an armchair reading the newspaper. Seeing Gemma walk into the room and grind to an abrupt halt, Jason tossed his newspaper on to the floor.

“Surprised?” he asked without smiling at her.

“I shouldn’t be really.  What about tomorrow?” Her hand remained on the door handle.

“I can work from here tomorrow.  Nothing requires my personal appearance.” He settled back in his favoured chair.

“I’m tired, Jason,” said Gemma exasperated. “My brain has been wiped out by a minor hangover, a morning of mathematical algorithms and a walk down Princes Road to the National Gallery.”

“You had some spare time?”

“Just enough for a little personal indulgence.  The conference finished at lunchtime.”

“I don’t need your brain,” he said with a dispassionate shrug.  “Makes no difference to me.”

“My intellectual attributes mean nothing to you then?” She let go of the door handle as her grip had become painfully tight on the metal.

“Not for what I need.”

Gemma shut her eyes.  Her mind was not in the mood to fight him and he would know from her stance she was not there for him.  However, she had been cooped up in trains and cars for the nearly six hours and had to admit she was fidgety and restless.

“It’s simple, Gemma. Either go to bed and sleep, or stay with me.”

Gemma did not want it to be that simple and even though it was her choice, she was being indecisive and soon she would start to infuriate him. His internal engine of control would have preferred her to have no choice in the matter. He wanted her to believe all her desire for him would be driven to an immediate pinnacle just by being constantly available to him. However, their existing agreement required consent for any of his contrived scenes.

“I’m going to get a drink, have a pee and then I will decide.” It was the best she could manage to give him until she felt acclimatised to his presence.

“Alright.” He leaned down to pick up his paper again.

Her thirst quenched and her bladder emptied, Gemma found the sitting room was luring her back in.  She could just dash up the stairs and bury herself under the duvet. The vision of him sitting there, in his scruffy jeans and black t-shirt, was tempting.  Very tempting. He would be rough – a given after being separated from her and she really was not prepared for his physical demands. Still, he was a magnet and she was that iron filling, drawn towards him with little resistance. Try as she may she wanted him to put her in the right frame of mind. Ludicrous though the situation was to her, she walked past the stairs and grasped the same metal door handle as she had done earlier.

“Come here.” He said when she re-entered the room.

She risked moving to be near him.  He caught her hand and drew her closer to him.   Her knickers were pulled down and he plunged two fingers inside her without any decorum. When he removed them, he rubbed his fingers together.

“Slippery thing up there.  You didn’t hardly flinched, did you?”

Gemma did not answer.  The evidence was irrefutable.

“Well?”

“I missed you.” It was the truth and ignoring her ridiculous libido was impossible.

“You can miss me  on all fours on the floor.”