Masters And Lovers 1-4

The aromas drifting from the kitchen are sumptuous. “We’re ready to serve,” announces James. “If you would all like to come through. Do bring your wine, but there’s plenty more on the table.”

The dining room is the image of Christmas. It could have come straight from some Dickensian film-maker’s set.

The scent as we step inside is a delicious assault; pine, beeswax, oranges and cinnamon. A huge fireplace glows to the side, spitting and popping as Michael adds another couple of logs. Candles on the mantel glimmer against the mirror which sits above the hearth, and everywhere, the room is bright with berried holly which drapes over shelves and is swagged across beams.

Beautiful room…

Beautiful renovation work….

And Michael did a lot of this himself?

Useful man to have around….

The table is dressed in red and gold and green, laid out with napkins in Sydney Opera House arrangements, crackers, and more candles mounted on a log….

…. More homemade?

Looks like it….

And another Christmas tree….

More from the woods?

…. sits in a corner, again beautifully decorated in gold and red ribboning.

…. The cake and petit-fours and other tit-bits Elizabeth and I brought are set out on a sideboard with the liqueurs, cheese-board and candied fruit.

“Beth, why don’t you sit there, next to Michael,” says James.

Points of colour rise on my beautiful wife’s pale cheeks. She knows what's coming and as Michael holds out her chair to sit, I see her taking his measure when she thinks he's not looking, her eye roaming his body….

Keeping my face straight, I try to see James’ handsome blond friend with a woman's eye….

Michael has avoided the curse of the jolly reindeer sweater and is simply turned out in a plain white linen shirt, and black pants, but the pants are well cut….

I look under hooded lids…

… Very well cut…

He didn’t know Elizabeth was going to be here….

…. So, he dressed to please Charlotte….

James and Michael between them serve the meal: turkey and all the trimmings, ferrying plates and trays and steaming tureens from the kitchen.

“Richard….” James, from his place at the head of the table, nods toward the collection of wine bottles at the end of the table. “…. would you like to open the wine while I carve?”

“Of course.” Turning to where Charlotte sits between me and James, “Red or white? Or cava perhaps?”

“Um, red please.” But she doesn’t meet my eye….

Something I said…?

James waves expansively over the table. “Help yourselves, everyone.” Michael takes up Elizabeth’s plate, serving her with a little of everything.

The meal is excellent but Charlotte picks at her food, moving it around her plate, poking at it. I’ve seen Charlotte’s eating habits often enough to know this isn’t normal.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas and the New Year, Charlotte?” I say. “Anything special coming up?”

“Um, not sure, really.”

Hmmm….

I try again. “What have James and Michael given you for Christmas? I know James was racking his brains.”

“Don’t know yet.” She stirs a sprout around in a pool of gravy.

Nervous?

Of me?

Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea…

Since James’ invitation, I’ve been anticipating with relish the idea of ‘playing’ with Charlotte. I’d thought after Elizabeth’s birthday that Charlotte would want to too, perhaps even be enthusiastic about the idea…

Once more….

always loves watching Christmas movies…” I

mouth, swallowing down a mouthful of something, gulps, then, “The Snowman. I don’t know how many times I watched it, but I still always cry at

like it too.” But her

a fact that Charlotte enjoys old

movies, you know, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘Christmas Carol’ and all the rest, I’ve never had

Yes…. It’s me

She doesn’t want…

doesn’t want me touching

my stomach and my erection, which I’ve been beating down with a stick all

the corner of my eye I see James, brow creased, also surreptitiously watching his

spoons extra cranberry sauce on to her plate. She won’t meet his eye, but there’s

She’s happy….

to where a roasted parsnip is being diced into smaller and smaller

Not happy….

cuts it any smaller,

Ah, well….

watch Elizabeth

let off steam when I give my beautiful wife another

hand, lifting it to his lips. He kisses the fingers, then pushes her hand into mine, pressing to close my

eye-points down to my and

Ahhh….

Got it….

for a moment in a soft kiss. She looks

and reaching over the table to where Michael is offering across a dish of

our eyes meet once more, he flashes brows at me, taking

my belt a notch. And now it’s

that James enjoys

Where from?

helped out the chef on

was just

the stuffing fragrant and appetising, the vegetables not overcooked. And the gravy is thick, rich with wine and herbs. I chew thoughtfully at a

Rosemary?

is excellent,” I say. “Where did you learn to cook,

between us, fork in hand as she engulfs a

a student, I worked in a hotel kitchen to help make ends meet. The chef there rather took me under his wing, taught me some valuable

face drops and the fork which is half-way to her mouth freezes

Crap….

up between us didn’t

Poor kid….

none of us care

woman to take that route

when they gave out grants to students. I didn't have to pay my university fees, I only had to find enough money to live on. Extraordinary measures were not necessary

the table, Elizabeth is reaching out a

on, James.

are indeed works

Handmade to order?

your standard ‘twenty in a box’ from the supermarket variety. Each one is sumptuously beautiful and slightly different in

he speaks. “Come on, Beth,

she accepts, tugs and is the happy recipient

sprays her wrist and sniffs, then ‘Aaahhhs’… “Oh, it’s lovely! I only

personalised fragrance I had

did James

unrolls the slip of paper. “Who

James, in a voice as

his hand. “Elf-ish

ripples around the

you pull a cracker with

as deeply as Elizabeth, but now there is a sparkle

a bottle of my own favourite after-shave, one I

how did you know I use

a sense of smell?” But there’s a smile haunting the

on Charlotte. Let’s

“Why did the turkey cross

dry. “I don’t know. Why did the turkey

Charlotte rolls her eyes

“James,” he says. “I don’t know how much you paid for these crackers

his finger-nails.