One-man Woman

by Jessica Ayre

  'You're just a few doors away from me,' Jennie heard Derek say softly at her side. 'Perhaps you'll come and visit.'

  She flushed at his tone and turned away, quite unsure of the direction.

  'The lift's to your right,' Derek called after her, a taunting edge in his voice.

  Piero came up behind her and pointed the direction. 'Would you like to have some lunch after you've unpacked?'

  Jennie nodded gratefully, 'I won't be long.'

  The room, Jennie noted as she opened the door on to dimness, was comfortable but unspectacular: two single beds, separated by a night table, a large chest of drawers, a mirrored wardrobe, a door opening on to a spacious tiled bathroom. A low knock stopped -her inspection and she turned to find the porter with her case. He deposited it on a rack and then moved to draw the curtains slightly. Jennie gasped: there in all its tantalising blueness was the sea. She slid open the glass door and stepped on to a terrace which stretched the width of the room and fed her eyes on the sight. Minutes slipped by before she remembered that she was meant to be meeting Piero for lunch. She unpacked quickly and pulled on her new white sun-frock, washed her face and tried to brush some order into her windswept hair. Then, not worrying too much about her reflected image, she went downstairs to find the dining room.

  It was a semi-circular room, its light muted by shutters, but she spied Piero waiting for her at the far end. He had gravitated towards one of the few tables which looked on to an expanse of blue.

  'I thought you'd prefer this to shadier corners, despite the heat.'

  She smiled her thanks and looked around. She could see Derek at a table across the room, deep in conversation with Matthew. Piero followed her gaze. 'I should really be with them to catch up on what Derek's managed so far, but I thought I'd enjoy your company briefly first. I stress your company, because the food is bound to be dreadful.'

  As if on cue, a waiter arrived with two plates of steaming risotto.

  'But it looks good,' Jennie exclaimed.

  'On the first day, perhaps,' Piero grimaced, 'but after a week of it in this weather—well, you'll see.'

  Jennie sipped her wine slowly and heaped large forkfuls of the oddly comforting rice into her mouth. She could feel Piero's eyes on her as she gazed out at the sea's inviting blue, but somehow they didn't discomfit her. She looked at him languorously and gave him a warm smile. He returned it.

  'I can see that you have all the makings of a mermaid,' he chuckled. 'You look at that sea with such longing. If that gaze were turned on me, I would find it irresistible.' He passed a finger down her cheek, tracing its curve, while his eyes held hers. Jennie looked unafraid into their depths, losing herself there for a moment.

  'I hate to break up this amorous duet, Piero,' a deep voice at her side intruded, 'but Matthew and I would like to have a word with you—if Miss Lewis can bear to let you go, that is,' Derek added with an abrasive irony.

  Jennie felt a flush creeping over her face. But Piero's voice was cool as he replied, 'I'll be over in a minute.'

  Derek left them, a hard glint in his eye as he nodded to Jennie.

  'Sorry to have to abandon you before coffee, Miss Lewis,' Piero imitated Derek's tone and then laughed. 'Perhaps I can make up for it by taking you into Cefalu for dinner this evening?'

  Jennie nodded her acceptance and returned her eyes to the sea. Yes, it was what she most wanted now, the feel of that water on her skin. She left her table, kept her eyes well away from where the men were sitting, and went to her room. There she discovered that Kathy Walsh, the wardrobe mistress, had now settled in and was comfortably stretched out on the terrace.

  'This is heaven, Jennie. Slip into something skimpy and join me,' Kathy called out to her.

  Jennie walked out into the terrace's bright light. 'I think I'll take a stroll down to the beach first. I can't wait to get into that water.'

  'Suit yourself. I wanted a bit of a tan before exposing myself to other eyes.' Kathy looked down at her white flesh disparagingly. 'This bright sun makes all this pallor look ghastly.'

  Jennie shrugged. 'Everyone will be napping now in any case.' She slipped a bikini on under her sun dress, put a towel and her sketchpad into a canvas bag, and went down to reception to ask the way to the beach. She was directed towards a narrow pebbly path which seemed to have been hewn out of the grey-black rock bordering it on both sides. Almost like a tunnel, Jennie thought, except for the blue sky overhead. She followed the steep incline, meeting no one on the way, and after a few minutes found herself face to face with the dazzling turquoise of the sea.

  The beach was a small sandy cove sheltered from all eyes by towering boulders which dipped into the waves. A mid-afternoon sun played on the water, the rocks, the sand. Jennie threw off her sandals and let her toes taste the warmth. Then she stretched luxuriantly out on the sand, propping her head up on her bag and gazing out at the sea through half-closed lids. Still fiercely bright, the sun baked her body, burning out any tautness, making her mind blankly indolent. Images floated randomly past, none carrying more weight than another. Only the warmth of the sand beneath her and the blazing heat above seemed to have any reality. Her fingers roamed sensuously over the sand's surface, smoothing its texture. She lay there blissfully remote from past or future, simply soaking up the sensations of the moment, the rhythmic lapping of waves on stone.

  Only when she felt the sun had penetrated her very bones did she rise and in a kind of lazy stupor make her way towards the water. The coolness of the waves played round her ankles, and after a momentary hesitation, she plunged her hot body into the water, swimming with strong regular strokes beyond the boulders into the open sea. To catch her breath, she turned over on her back and gazed towards the shoreline. From this distance she could see over the cove up the incline to the hotel and beyond it, to the purple outline of the mountains. To her left, clearly visible, was the little fishing town of Cefalu and other small coves. She closed her eyes, relaxing on the gentle waves, letting the sea carry her where it would.

  Suddenly she felt a tug at the bottom part of her bikini and the sound of aggressive laughter. Her eyes bolted open and she began to tread water frantically. On either side of her were two taunting, coarse-featured youths. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but the sense of their words was clear to her. Jennie began to swim towards the distant shore, but their rapid strokes brought them to her side and, laughing loudly, they grabbed at her legs and arms until her panic mounted into a scream. She thrashed about wildly in the water and at one moment felt it submerge her. An image of the giant one-eyed Cyclops which Piero had laughingly described darted across her mind, and gasping for breath, she forced her head above the waves. One of the youths lunged at her, encircling her waist with his arm. Jennie felt a scream rising to her throat again, but it was strangled by a wave.

  Then as her mind focussed once more, she made out a new voice, resonant with authority, felt the arm leave her waist and as her head dipped again beneath the waves, a new pair of arms pulling her upward and firmly guiding her towards the shore.

  Without knowing quite how she had arrived there, she felt sand warming the length of her frame, strong hands rubbing sense back into her body; heard a voice enquiring gently, 'Are you all right?'

  She turned over, too breathless to speak. Derek was kneeling beside her, his eyes filled with concern. He was massaging her arms, her wrists, her legs, her ankles, and as the warm sensation removed the panic from her veins, she found her voice.

  'Thanks for helping,' she said softly, lifting herself up on her elbows and then sinking back on the sand as her head filled with dizziness.

  He stretched out beside her and looked at her sternly. 'Whatever made you swim out so far alone?' he asked gruffly.

  She shrugged, her eyes filling with tears.

  He placed his arm around her waist and rubbed her gently. 'Never mind, you'll be all right in a few minutes. Just breathe deeply.'

  Jennie did as she was told, surprised at
her own lack of resistance, but too weak to move or to demur. She closed her eyes to the sun and then as she grew aware of the strokes becoming a caress, she raised herself slowly, loath to break the quiet rhythm, but sensing a new danger.

  'I think I'm all right now. I'd better go back to my room.'

  'Are you quite sure you can walk?' Derek looked at her sceptically.

  She nodded, rising unsteadily to her feet. Derek put out an arm to help her and then as her legs trembled visibly, wound it round her, giving her the support of his hard body. She leaned against him heavily for a moment and then drew away, steeling herself to walk free of him. His eyes had a gleam of irony in them as they met hers. 'I won't bite, you know, or do anything uncouth.'

  Jennie could find nothing to say in reply, but as she took in the full hard length of him as he stood before her, long muscular legs planted firmly in the sand, golden chest bare above black swimming trunks, tousled hair wetly gleaming in the sun, she could feel a magnetic charge drawing her towards him. She turned away abruptly, pulling her sundress over her shoulders, happy to be able to hide her face from him momentarily. As she emerged again, he was beside her, running a large hand through the tangled wetness of her hair. She shuddered.

  'Come on,' Derek picked up her bag and put his arm around her shoulder. 'And stop playing games with me now, or we'll lose you before the filming even starts!'

  Jennie flushed, but let him guide her up the narrow path, grateful, if she dared admit it to herself, for his steadying presence.

  He led her to his room without giving her a chance to protest, sat her down in a comfortable armchair, and turning his back ordered her to take off her wet bikini. She obeyed, slipping it out from under her dress. As she huddled back into the chair, shivering a little, he threw her a large towelling robe. She snuggled into its dryness and curled up in the large chair.

  He looked at her and shook his head. 'Didn't your mother warn you about Sicilian men?'

  Without knowing quite why, Jennie found herself laughing stridently. 'She didn't have much chance to warn me of anything,' she said, and found all at once that the laughter had turned to sobs. They came fast and convulsive and were still shaking her as Derek handed her a large glass of brandy and ordered her to drink up. The burning sensation from throat to stomach brought her back to herself. She wiped her tears with the robe's floppy sleeve and looked up to meet Derek's eyes. He seemed to be watching her closely and she stiffened with embarrassment.

  'I'm sorry about all that. I must be a little hysterical,' she said in a low voice.

  'Silly woman! What is there to be sorry about? It would be unnatural if you didn't cry from the sheer shock of it all.'

  He looked at her questioningly. 'Why didn't your mother have a chance to warn you?' he asked.

  Jennie swallowed a returning sob.

  'She died when I was seven.'

  'I'm sorry,' he offered gently, reaching for her hand which she quickly pulled away. 'And your father didn't make any paternal gestures of advice?' he queried after a moment.

  Jennie looked beyond him, towards the blue which crept through the shutters. 'He died before her, in an accident,' she said flatly, a note of hardness entering her tone.

  'I see,' Derek breathed reflectively. 'So that accounts for a little of your remoteness, your insistent self-reliance.'

  Jennie shrugged.

  'Who brought you up, then?' His eyes were hard on her, urging her to meet his.

  'Relations. An aunt and uncle,' she said tersely, and rose to her feet gesturing an end to the session.

  'Sit down, Jennie,' he ordered her with a firmness which harboured no defiance. Then, his voice gentle, he added, 'You're in no shape to go anywhere yet.'

  Jennie sank back into the chair and closed her eyes. The room started to whirl round her and she opened them again quickly, only to find Derek's gaze fixed on her.

  'You're a very beautiful woman, you know, when you relax your mouth a little.'

  She threw him a scathing look. 'I hardly need your compliments at the moment.'

  He chuckled. 'I'm sure that's right. I shall have to plan them to meet demand. Do you think there might be a time when that demand is made?' The mocking tilt returned to his lips. 'Or have you given up our sex for ever, oh, mysterious lady?'

  Jennie flushed and turned her head away from him.

  'Why do you avoid men, Jennie?' he asked, his voice suddenly soft. 'Did one of us behave badly towards you, hurt you? Was your uncle unkind to you?'

  She glared at him, hating him for his questioning, for the way he was groping near the truth; wanting to hurt him for tampering with her composure, infringing on that private self she so carefully shielded.

  'I simply don't like them, any of them,' she said defiantly, and lurched out of her chair.

  Derek followed her movements with a wicked light in his eye, and then springing lithely to his feet, put a stopping hand on her shoulder. 'Funny, I sometimes get a distinctly different impression. It's when you look at me with a particular light in your eye.'

  She gazed up at him now for a long moment. Words had left her and she was intensely aware of his hand on her shoulder, suddenly aware too that the broad expanse of his chest was still bare, of the golden smoothness of the skin stretching tautly over shoulders, the muscled trunk of neck holding up the head with perfect symmetry.

  Derek's laugh broke the silence. 'There you go. You look as if you're just about ready to start on that nude study again. It's not a look that testifies to a dislike of men…'

  The blood came rushing into Jennie's face. She turned her glance from him and bolted from under his hand. 'I think I'd better get back to my room now. Thanks for saving my life,' she added, managing to put an element of politeness into her tone.

  'I don't know about your life, but certainly your honour. I think you'll just have to leave it in my care while you're here. No more solitary escapades without my specific permission. Is that agreed?'

  There was a seriousness beneath the banter in his tone and in his eyes as Jennie met their gaze.

  She shrugged. 'It was just that first burst of sun, the sheer delight of the sea…' She closed her eyes for a second, remembering the bliss of it all. 'I think it must have stunned me, but I'll be on my guard now.'

  She took off his robe and handed it to him. Her dress, still moist from her bathing suit, clung a little transparently to her skin, moulding her slender curves. Derek's eyes roved over her body and as he took the robe from her, he pulled her towards him, wrapping her in his arms. 'As long as it's not against me,' he whispered in her ear. 'I want to test this supposed dislike of men for myself.'

  Before she could move away, his lips sought hers hungrily, forcing her mouth open with a searching intensity. His large hands roaming over the small of her back kept her pinned to him and as she felt the tautness of his firm body against hers, strange new sensations enveloped her. Little licks of flame leapt up her thighs, making her pulse beat heavily. Taking on a life of their own, her hands tasted the tight satin of his skin, finding their way along his back, his chest. His kiss deepened and she felt her limbs swaying powerless, turning molten. He pressed her more tightly against him and with one sure step lifted her on to the bed. She could smell the, sea on him, taste the salt on his lips. Her mouth opened to his with its own hunger. A low moan escaped him and his hand cupped the shape of one firm breast, delicately tracing the outline of a nipple.

  'Are you sure, you don't like us, Jennie? Quite sure?' he whispered huskily, stifling any response she could make with a kiss which seemed to reach every part of her body. Then, through the thudding in her temples, Jennie distinguished a remote voice, not her own, calling, 'Derek!' and a knocking. He jumped up with a mumbled 'damn' just as the door opened to reveal Daniela's shape in the muted light of the room.

  Jennie closed her eyes, unable to move, unwilling to have to confront anyone, wishing somehow that the moment would vanish like a bad dream. She lay quite still. She could hear Derek wh
ispering, 'Ssh!' and then in low tones saying, 'It's Jennie, she's asleep. She had a rather nasty turn at the beach and I made her come back here.'

  Jennie opened her eyes and sat up on the bed. She felt oddly cold, irritated at Derek's half truths, at the way he was obviously placating Daniela. 'You can stop whispering, I'm awake,' she said loudly. 'Hello, Daniela, has Derek been filling you in on my Sicilian adventure?'

  Daniela eyed her suspiciously, taking in the crumpled bedclothes, the flush on Jennie's cheeks, and she looked slowly from her to Derek and back again.

  'Tell me about this Sicilian adventure,' she said to Jennie, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, smoothing out the bedspread with exaggerated gestures.

  'I think Jennie's in no state to chat,' Derek intervened, his voice calm.

  'Too true,' Jennie replied, a hint of malice in her tone. 'And I'm sure Derek can tell you about it far better than I can. He did a wonderful job of defending my honour.' She got off the bed, anger now making her movements steady. 'And miraculously, it's still intact,' she threw Derek a contemptuous look.

  'It was pure luck that I came along… and that I can swim.' His voice was politely cool, but Jennie read an anger in his eyes that matched hers.

  'I was born lucky,' Jennie flaunted back irrelevantly. 'Well, I'll leave you two now.' She reached for her canvas bag, sensing Daniela's eyes on her back. Then she turned to face her and offered casually, in a semi-whisper, but quite loud enough for Derek to hear, 'I'm off to dinner with Piero tonight and I want some time to make myself fetching.'

  Daniela smiled, the suspicion leaving her eyes. 'Have a lovely evening with him,' she said, emphasising each word for Derek's benefit and giving Jennie a large wink.

  Jennie turned to Derek. 'Thanks. For everything,' she added tauntingly.

  He opened the door for her, 'Any time, Jennie. Any time.' His voice beneath its controlled coolness bore a distinct challenge.

  Jennie went back to her room and flung herself down on her bed. Her heart was racing, inchoate thoughts pounding through her head. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but it served only to release the tears. They streamed down her face on to her pillow and she wasn't too sure whether she was crying because of the panic brought on by the youths' assault or because of Derek and his evident preference of Daniela over her. She should, she chided herself mentally, feel exhilarated. Touching Derek, being touched by him, was so unlike anything she had experienced before, so different from Max. That shuddering repulsion that she had felt, that sense of her skin crawling, had been replaced by… She moaned softly and shut her eyes tight, forbidding her body to live the memory, the exquisite delight of Derek's skin on hers. It was as if she had been jolted into sensuality. She licked a salty tear from her lip. The sea. It was the sea that had done it. The taste of the sea on Derek's mouth.