Love Patterns

by Michael B. Malone

  After walking all over Dundee, he’d somehow arrived at Kirsty’s road. He walked backwards and forwards along the main road before the turn off to her house, as if he was on a treadmill. He wanted to force Kirsty’s hand, but felt that if he failed it might be his last attempt. The tension was getting to him, he couldn’t take much more.

  He went on pacing slowly up and down the road.

  Claire glanced at Kirsty, sitting forward on the settee trying to get the tangles out of her wet hair, using a brush and a comb together.

  “You really should do something about that hair of yours,” she remarked. “Every time you wash it, it sticks out in all directions.” Moving to the mirror, she put the finishing touches to her make-up, frowning at the faint lines that were beginning to appear at the corners of her eyes.

  “Well I’m off to the disco, sure you won’t come? I’ll wait till you do your hair.”

  Kirsty smiled. “No, I’m just going to relax and enjoy not being a schoolgirl any more. I might clean the house, it’s getting in a bit of a mess.”

  “Do some housework?” Claire opened her mouth in pretended shock. “What’s come over you?”

  Kirsty ignored her sarcasm. “Who are you going with?”

  “Frank, remember him?”

  She saw Kirsty half close her eyes. “A dark haired man about your own age?”’

  “That’s right,” she confirmed. “He’s an electrician. I was quite keen on him a couple of years ago. I met him the other day and he asked me out. It’s taken me a while to get over that creep Alan.” She noticed Kirsty’s forlorn look at the mention of Alan’s name. “Remember your promise, don’t weaken. You’ll soon get over him, it just takes a while to get the poison out of your system. If he calls again, throw a bucket of cold water over him.” Laughing at the vision this conjured up, she collected her handbag, and as she was leaving, again reminded Kirsty of her promise.

  Wrapped in her thoughts, she didn’t notice a furtive figure disappear around the corner, as she approached the main road.

  As Alan waited impatiently for Claire to walk farther away, he heard raucous laughter some a distance behind him. He glanced around at a group of youths approaching and recognised Kevin among them. He decided to move and sidled around the corner into Kirsty’s road, praying that Claire wouldn’t spot him. His luck was in. He managed to get into the road and around the corner without Claire turning around. He hesitated outside Kirsty’s house, then bracing himself, strode down the path and rang the bell.

  Kirsty, her hair finished, was sweeping the hall. Her schooldays were over, and she was glad and yet, in a way, sorry. The sixth year had a party in the common room and had then gone around the various classrooms saying goodbye to the teachers. Some of the sixth-year boys had organised a party at someone’s house and Kevin had invited her. She’d had to put him in his place when he’d taken umbrage at her refusal.

  The bell rang, startling her, interrupting her train of thought. Somehow, she knew it was Alan. She felt a thrill but struggled to suppress it. It was becoming harder and harder to push thoughts and memories of him back below the surface, his eyes, his smile, his lips. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted, her body remembering. She moaned and pulled her thoughts away. She didn’t dare open the door, knowing she’d rush into his arms.

  She shouted, “Who is it?”

  The reply came back. “Alan.” His voice was a love-song, her heart pounded. Her resolve wavered.

  She took a deep breath then pleaded. “Please go away. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “I’m going mad. Why are you doing …” she heard him falter. The depth of despair in his voice terrified her.

  She leaned her head against the panel of the door and sobbed. “Please Alan…” but couldn’t finish.

  Alan rested his head against the panel of the door on his side. He was silent for a while. He’d caught a glimpse of himself, he was pleading like a lovesick schoolboy. It hurt, and he knew the raw, gnawing emptiness inside him would never be filled now, but that was life. He had his pride. He was a grown man and ought to be able to take his licks.

  Kirsty, hearing nothing more, thought with a sick feeling in her stomach that he’d gone, but then she heard his voice again, deeper with a new certainty in it.

  “I give in Kirsty. I’m leaving Dundee. I won’t embarrass you anymore.” There was a pause, then he continued. “But I’ll always …” his voice broke, hesitated, then he went on … “remember you.”

  She heard a long sigh then his footsteps retreating along the path. She felt her heart was being torn from her body. She breathed in short gasps and her hand gripped the broom until her knuckles whitened.

  ‘Don’t leave me Alan’ something inside her cried. Again, her heart and her head battled, as memories of him sprang unbidden into her mind. She tried half-heartedly to halt them, but they slipped past her guard.

  She’d known in her heart of hearts that she would eventually get back with Alan, but now she felt a sudden fear that she would never see him again. This wasn’t a game she was playing his loss would affect her for the rest of her life. She knew she wouldn’t ever “Get over him.” As if in slow motion, she watched her hand reach for the door handle and felt her mouth open to shout. She regained control and snatched back her hand, to stick her knuckles into her mouth. She bit hard, but an anguished wail forced its way past her fingers.

  “I love him Claire.” It was the cry of a heart’s despair.

  Chapter 32

  “So, she’s turned you down as well?” sneered Kevin. “The stuck up lesbian bitch.” The youths sniggered.

  Alan pushed Kevin violently out of his way. Enraged, Kevin swung a punch. Alan blocked it and smashed his fist into the sneering face, feeling the shock of the blow all the way to his shoulder. He watched Kevin stagger backwards onto the road, where his legs seemed to turn suddenly to rubber. He fell on his back and lay still. There was a long silence. The other youths seemed stunned.

  Kirsty’s door opened, and she ran out shouting. “ALAN NO! COME BACK.”

  As four pairs of eyes turned towards her, she stopped, aware of the tension, the rigid postures. As if her entrance had broken the spell, the three youths attacked Alan, punching and kicking

  him.

  Kirsty didn’t at first take in what was happening. One youth staggered away, blood pouring from his nose. She saw another behind Alan holding him by the neck while the third tried to sink kicks into his body.

  Screaming, “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” she dropped the broom and threw herself on the youth behind Alan.

  With one hand she jerked back his head by the hair and scraped his face with the nails of her other hand, feeling for his eyes. She felt her nail sink into something soft. He gave a shriek, shook her off and turned to face her. She came right back at him, spitting like a wildcat, her hands raised to rake his face again. She saw him hesitate, one eye wide, the other, half closed, then take to his heels, almost knocking down the other youth who was doubled up, groaning and holding his groin. As Alan grinned at her she saw Kevin climb groggily to his feet and join the other three. They helped each other stagger a short distance away, where they held each other up to examine their wounds.

  She threw herself at Alan, muttering incoherent endearments. As she hugged him to her, she felt his warm blood on her cheek. She stood back to inspect him as he stood swaying. He had grazes on his cheeks and forehead, and blood was trickling down his neck.

  “They’ve hurt you!” she cried. She felt an incandescent fury surge inside her.

  With her cheeks smeared with Alan’s blood, she screamed. “I’ll kill the bastards!” and started after Kevin and his gang.

  The youths fled as if a demon was after them. Alan grabbed Kirsty from behind, wrapped his arms round her and held her, dumfounded by her sudden strength. She dragged him out of the gate, and only when the youths disappeared around the corner, did she stop struggling and shouted a few dire imprecations after them.

 
; As he held her to him, he felt the thump of her heart under the softness of her breast, and the muscles of her body straining against him. He was suddenly aware of the softness of her and it did something to him. This was a flesh and blood woman he held struggling in his arms. He felt her relax and released her. She turned in his arms to press her cheek against his. The nearness of her seemed to sharpen his senses. He felt the heat in her cheeks, he heard her quick breathing gradually slowing, and smelled the musky, woman smell of her mingled with her scent. He felt a kind of euphoria. Part of him was agog with admiration, and another part was laughing at the way the four youths had fled from a girl. He laughed out loud. She gave him a concerned look and curled her arm around his waist.

  “Are you alright Alan?” she asked, leading him to her door. He grinned down at her. She pushed open the door with her foot. “I’ll soon get you cleaned up,” she promised.

  Alan stopped, still swaying slightly, and gave her a long measuring look as she gazed up into his face.

  He steeled himself. “No, I’d better go.”

  She looked shocked. “Alan!”

  “No! I don’t want to make trouble for you with Claire.”

  “Bugger Claire, I want you to stay,” she pleaded, close to tears.

  “Why?”

  “I want you to.”

  “Why?” he repeated insistently.

  She looked down at her feet, her face red, and mumbled. “You know why.”

  “No!” Alan insisted.

  “You’re cruel!” she wailed trying to look at him without looking. Despite her tears he was merciless. He turned as if to go.

  “I’d better leave, thanks for helping, Kirsty.”

  “Please Alan. No!” She pleaded clutching his jacket sleeve frantically.

  He turned back to touch her face and asked again. “Why Kirsty?” Her last defences crumbled.

  She pulled his head down, kissed him softly, then looked him straight in the eyes and admitted at last. “Because I love you Alan.” And as she finally confessed her love, she felt a surging joy, even more wonderful because of her misery of the last two weeks.

  She declared again, savouring every word. “I love you Alan Balfour.” Alan grinned and replied in kind.

  “And I love you Kirsty Gillespie.” They looked long into each other’s eyes and each had the thought that it had sounded like an unofficial marriage ceremony.

  Kirsty knew she’d been manipulated but was glad. “Well are you happy now?”

  He gave a huge smile. “I’m the happiest man in the world.”

  “How can you say that? Look at the state of you,” she retorted but with a joyful face. “Will you come in now?” and she led him into the house, leaving the broom lying, forgotten on the path.

  She sat him on the settee, then left him for a moment. She came back with a basin of water, a facecloth and a towel, helped him take his jacket off and began to dab his face with the cloth.

  Her ministrations took quite a while, as she spent as long kissing as she did dabbing, and Alan’s hands stroking her face and hair kept getting in the way. After cleaning the blood from his face, she unbuttoned his shirt and washed the blood from his neck and the top of his chest, then rinsed the cloth and wiped his hands. While she was drying him with the towel, he stroked her hair away to watch her face.

  “I’ve been through hell the last two weeks. I thought that I was going mad,” he confided.

  Kirsty stayed silent until she’d finished, mentally flaying herself for the way she’d hurt him and the cruel things she’d said.

  She apologised. “I’m really sorry Alan, I’ve been awful to you.” She pulled his head to her breast and stroked his hair, feeling the scar, and remembering what had caused it. “I don’t know what got into Claire, but she made me promise not to see you again. I felt so guilty. I didn’t know what to do. Claire’s taken care of me since I was eleven. I think she was in love then, but she gave him up to look after me. She’s given up a lot for me, I felt I was betraying her.”

  He straightened up to pull her to him. “I didn’t know. Did I really break her wrist? I only tried to hold her away.”

  Kirsty thought back. “I think she put it on to make me feel guilty, she’s all right now.”

  She saw his eyes look inwards. “There’s something inside Claire.” He paused. “I wouldn’t mind having her for a sister.”

  “She’s sometimes more like a mother. She feels she has to protect me from the wicked world,” she paused, giving him a calculating look. “She thinks I’m still a virgin.” She smiled at his embarrassed laugh.

  He recovered. “You don’t need protecting. I’ve never seen anything like it, you scared the hell out of me. I don’t know who got the bigger shock, those yobs or me. I thought you were going to kill them!”

  She giggled, then became serious. “I was a woman protecting the man she loves.”

  Another long look at each other was followed inevitably by a kiss. She ran her fingers over the fair hair on his chest, noticing that his nipples hardened under her touch. She was surprised, she didn’t know men were sensitive there. She continued her stroking, smiling at the effect it had on him. She noticed more blood oozing from the grazes on his forehead. She rose and almost stepped in the basin of water. She moved it behind the settee, then stood over Alan, dabbing at his face.

  Alan watched. The tip of her tongue was between her teeth, moving over her lips as she concentrated. He found it intensely arousing. He took in the swell of her breasts under her blouse, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He remembered the softness of her when he’d held her outside. He reached up and fondled the soft firmness, feeling her nipples rise under his fingers through the thin material. Kirsty flashed him a smile and kept her arms out of his way. He unbuttoned her blouse and continued his fondling, stroking with the backs of his fingers. She stopped her ministrations, and breathing heavily, responded pushing her breasts close to his face.

  He bent his head and she gasped with pleasure at the slickness of his tongue. She pulled his head closer avid for more, her fingers stroking the short hairs at the back of his neck. His hands caressed her back and waist and every part he touched seemed to become an erogenous zone. His hands slid down her body. She felt the melting wetness of desire and started arching her hips as delicious thrills of pleasure pulsed through her.

  ‘Don’t stop Alan,’ she prayed. Racing half thoughts mingled with waves of overwhelming desire. It’s going to happen!

  What will it be like? Oh! God! I love him. His lips found hers again and she felt his tongue thrust between her teeth, demanding and passionate. She felt she was aflame. He tried to pull her to the settee, but she resisted.

  “Not here,” she moaned. She grabbed his hand to pull him roughly to his feet, and led him to her bedroom.

  Chapter 33

  Alan held Kirsty while she sobbed quietly against his chest. He stroked her hair.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice choked.

  She glanced up. “No, it was nice.”

  He felt deflated. Tear drops glistened on her eyelashes. His love was an agony like a red-hot knife. She looked so small. He pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her head and he buried his face in her hair.

  “I love you,” he groaned.

  He felt her hands stroke his back and hips. The lightness and softness of her touch comforted him. He kissed her ears, exploring with the tip of his tongue. She giggled, and he smiled, his tension easing. He breathed in the scented young woman smell of the sheets. It sank in. He was in bed with her lying naked in his arms. He looked down at the head buried in his chest, the flaming hair spread over his arms. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest.

  ‘GOD!’ he exulted silently. ‘I love her.’ He kissed her tears away.

  Kirsty wondered if there was something wrong with her. It had been good but not the fireworks she’d dreamed about. She sat up and saw his eyes on her breasts and smiled shyly. She clutched
the top of the duvet, quivering slightly, but didn’t raise it. He stroked her breasts gently with the backs of his fingers. She loved his touch and felt her nipples harden again. He bent his head and she gasped and stroked the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Then his lips were on hers, one hand behind her neck, the other caressing her body from her breasts to her thighs. She felt like putty in his hands. His kisses burned her skin, moving down her body to her stomach then to the inner softness of her thighs. A long moan escaped from her throat and her hips started arching convulsively. She was all sensation again. His mouth moved up to hers and she tasted her musky oiliness on his lips. She gave herself up to him in wild abandon.

  Then it happened. Something inside her began to spasm rhythmically. She felt that her whole being was opening, he moaned into her mouth and she abandoned herself to the full soaring glory.

  They held each other while their breathing slowed, and the furnace heat of their bodies dissipated. He stroked her face and kissed her, his lips now soft. She took a deep intoxicating breath and let her fingers follow the muscles of his back all the way down to the firmness of his bottom, stroking gently. Her hand crept between his thighs to hold the strange twin weights in her cupped hand, squeezing gently. She explored further wondering at the magic that could make something so small and soft grow so hard and strong. Smiling, she let her hands slide back along his body, occasionally pausing, then creep languidly around his neck She wanted to sleep, to wake up in his arms, but she knew it wasn’t possible.

  “We’d better get up,” she sighed. “We can’t stay in bed all night.”

  His slow smile almost made her change her mind. She sighed again and jumped up, pulling the duvet off him. They collected their clothes, which were in a trail from the bedroom to the lounge, giggling as they helped, or hindered each other to dress. She left to make coffee, leaving him sitting on the settee.