Epilogue

Sated, they both slept, wrapped in each other’s arms. They awoke twice briefly before morning broke. The first time, Sophie was pleasantly surprised to find him kissing her pussy, savouring her before, now that he had confirmed her both awake and wetly receptive, sliding himself in deep and making love to her slowly and lovingly. Moving her small body beneath him in waves that he rode until he came inside her, holding himself still and deep inside her as he spurred and she hugged him close.

The second time, she woke him, wanting him again, coaxing his cock erect with fingers and eager mouth before sliding him inside her as she rode atop him. Her orgasm was slow and delicious, savoured as their eyes locked before he rolled her over and took her roughly, holding her little ankles high and wide in his hands, penetrating deep and hard, thrusting fast to cum urgently inside her once more.

By the time he next awoke, Sophie was gone. The space next to him in the bed was vacant and the sheets cold, the wrinkled condom from the discarded American leaking a stain and a memory.

Smiling, he luxuriated in the memories of the previous night, growing hard again as he recalled the willingness with which she spread herself for him, the enthusiasm of their mating. The rapture as she had hugged her small frame to him as he spilled his seed inside her.

It was a while before the stark realisation that she might not be returning to his bed hit home. In the next few hours and the days that followed he unearthed few traces of her aside from the facts that she had checked out early, alone, and with minimal luggage. She didn’t answer any phone calls.

He stayed in the resort some days longer as he continued his investigations but he quickly bored of the place. It felt empty without her. He brooded.

On his return to England he, similarly, found few traces of Sophie. The apartment was undisturbed apart from a few personal items of hers. She was nowhere to found in their usual haunts and the few friends they had in common drew a blank when it came to information as to her whereabouts.

And so his life descended back into the lonely solitude he had inhabited before their meetings. The only company a few keepsakes of hers and the memories of their time together.

Some memories came unbidden, alone in bed at night, frequent erections that recalled their passions. Images of their last night together etched in his memory, his hands holding her ankles widely spread as he ploughed his seed within her. Other memories more welcoming as he discovered perfume bottles that reminded him of her, and her scent, underwear in bedroom drawers, tiny shoes in the closet.

He even tortured himself with imagined sightings of her turning a corner ahead of him on the street, in crowded trains, in bars. Always the same, he would fight his way, breathless, to meet her only to find himself mistaken, embarrassed, alone.

And so it went on, for months, then a year, and slowly it became bearable if still painful. An existence rather than a life.

Until one day, in a different part of North London, he once again caught sight of her, or her likeness. Ahead of him, through the crowd, walking into a park. By now he was more resigned to his habitual disappointment and so was less hasty in his pursuit with little hope of any success.

But entering the park, his heart fluttered at the small, slender form he saw walking ahead of him along the path between the trees. So like her. His pace quickened as he sought to close the gap until, reaching out a hand, he spoke her name timorously, just as she turned to sit on the bench by the duck pond.

“Sophie?”, he questioned, nervous, lacking confidence after all this time.

Seeing her face for the first time in nearly a year, the recognition was instant and she flushed red. For once, she seemed lost for words but glanced down and to her side.

He followed the direction of the glance and saw a pair of blue eyes beneath a mop of blonde hair in the buggy next to her. The resemblance was unmistakable. His own eyes looked back up at him.

His heart leapt as he turned to face Sophie again.

“Is she?”

“Oh yes, Daddy”, she smiled, “all yours”.