by Judy Nunn
‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the cut-crystal port glass. ‘Oh, isn’t that lovely!’ She held up the glass, examining the sparkle of the light on the crystal and the velvet colour within. ‘It’s too pretty to drink.’
‘We can always fill it up again,’ Franklin said, as he toasted her with his brandy balloon.
What an attractive man he is, Millie thought, sneaking a look at him over the rim of her glass as he inhaled the brandy fumes. With his thick hair starting to curl at the collar and his fine cheekbones and patrician nose – and those eyes, above all those compelling blue eyes! She looked away in case he should glance up and catch her staring at him. When he didn’t, she stole another look. The way he carried himself, the way he wore his clothes. He was a good deal younger than she was, Millie was sure of that, but there was no callow youth about him. His air of authority and command was palpable. All night she’d noticed the effect he’d had on others – not only the waiters in the restaurant, but those dining as well. Once she’d established the fact that they weren’t staring critically at her, she’d been aware that the other diners were wondering who the aristocratic young man was. He was class, Franklin Ross, all class.
Far above her station, of course, but she could fantasise, couldn’t she? He obviously found her desirable and if she allowed him to sleep with her … well, anything was possible, wasn’t it? ‘Allowed’ him to sleep with her? Why pretend? She wanted to sleep with him. She wanted the touch of his hands on her flesh, she wanted the weight of his body on hers, she wanted to feel him inside her.
Millie genuinely missed a man in her life. Not only did she want to cook and housekeep and sew for a man, she needed a man in her bed. It was a terrible thing to admit, but the truth was that Millie liked sex. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she did.
So when Franklin wasn’t quite sure where to start, it was Millie who took the initiative.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said after he’d poured her a second glass of port and seated himself next to her on the uncomfortable hardback sofa, a little too close, obviously unsure of what to do next. Millie put down the glass and turned to him. ‘I enjoyed myself very much.’
Franklin could contain himself no longer. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, his hand seeking her breast, his body pressing against her at an uncomfortable angle.
Millie was taken aback. She hadn’t expected this. She’d registered that Mr Ross was shy, but this was gauche, this was ungallant, this was … She pulled away from him, unsure whether to slap his face or … Then she saw the desperation in his eyes. The desperation of a boy embarking on his first sexual adventure. Mr Ross was inexperienced – that was it! Perhaps he was even a virgin.
As Franklin once again lunged towards her, Millie deftly avoided his embrace, rose from the sofa and walked to the door. ‘I think I should be going now, Mr Ross,’ she said formally.
Franklin was mortified. He walked over to her. ‘I’m sorry, Millie, I’m extremely sorry. That was unforgivable of me, I – ’ He stopped.
Millie had reached up and taken his face in both of her hands. ‘Thank you again,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been a beautiful evening.’ She stood on her tiptoes and he allowed her to gently lower his head until their lips were touching. Then her arms were about his neck, her mouth was slowly parting as her body melded itself to his.
Franklin lifted her in his embrace and carried her to the bed. Again he forced himself upon her, brutally, demandingly.
Millie pushed him away with all her strength, averting her face from him. ‘No, please,’ she said, ‘please. That’s not the way.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Although he was apologising again, Franklin wasn’t quite sure why. She was obviously going to allow him to have sexual intercourse with her. So why did she keep stopping him? He watched as she rose and turned off the overhead light.
‘Gently,’ she said. ‘Gently. Turn on the bedside lamp.’
He did. She stood before him in the rosy glow and slowly showed him how to undress her. When everything but her shift was removed, she stopped him.
‘Now you,’ she whispered. Together they undressed him. Each time he tried to rush the process she made him linger, tantalising herself as well as him. Finally, when he stood before her, naked, she lowered her shift.
Franklin had never been naked in the presence of a woman, nor had he seen a woman fully naked. In their wild couplings above the stables, Bronwyn had always kept her shift on and he had never bothered to remove his upper garments.
Millie’s full, lush body with its milky white skin was a source of wonder to him, and, as he gently ran his fingers over a breast and watched the nipple harden, he thrilled to the pleasure he could sense in the woman. He let his hand stray over her stomach, the small of her back, her hip, until finally, with the tips of his fingers, he touched the copper-gold thatch between her legs.
‘Yes,’ Millie murmured, her head back, her eyes closed, ‘yes.’ And her fingers returned his caresses, travelling down his body, over his chest, his buttocks, his groin.
Then they were on the bed again, Franklin quivering with the desire to plunge himself into her, the ecstasy almost more than he could bear. But he was aware that he mustn’t. He must hold back. He must take his lead from her. Her pleasure was exquisite to him and he mustn’t break the spell.
She lay on her side facing him and, as she kissed him deeply, he felt her legs part. He was rock-hard and, when she placed her hand upon him, he shuddered in anticipation. But she didn’t guide him into her, she clamped her thighs tight around him then moved herself backwards and forwards along the shaft of his penis. He could feel her, moist and ready, and her thrusts quickened as the friction stimulated her desire. Finally, when they both felt they could resist no longer, she opened her legs and took him into her.
They’d so prolonged the agony of their pleasure that the final act didn’t last long. ‘Oh yes! Oh yes!’ Millie cried. ‘Now, now, now!’ And, as Franklin responded to her urgency, his own excitement reached fever pitch. He clasped her tightly to him, buried himself deep inside her and let go with a strangled cry.
For several seconds he lay next to her, fighting to regain his breath, overwhelmed by the experience. And then confusion set in. It was over. He found their nakedness confronting. And, as Millie snuggled up against him like a contented kitten, he leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp.
She was aware of his confusion and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she propped on one elbow, kissed him gently on the lips and said, ‘I must go back to my room.’
He made as if to protest – he supposed he should – but she interrupted.
‘It’s too small a bed to sleep two.’ And she was up and dressing deftly in the dark, leaving him fumbling for his trousers.
‘Shall I see you tomorrow?’ he asked.
Millie wasn’t sure whether he meant it or not but she smiled reassuringly. ‘If you wish.’
Franklin certainly did wish and the following evening found him tapping on her door.
‘I wondered whether you might care to dine,’ he asked, aware that he was actually asking much more and wondering how he could avoid it sounding the way it did. He couldn’t, but Millie’s engaging grin banished any need for embarrassment.
‘I’d be delighted, Mr Ross.’
He smiled back. ‘Do you think, under the circumstances, we could make it Franklin?’
Millie dined, and slept, with Franklin three times over the next ten days and, on the fourth time, exactly a fortnight since their first evening together, Franklin mentioned that he had a surprise for her.
‘There you are. What do you think?’
He’d opened the door to his room to reveal the brand-new double bed which sat in pride of place beneath the bay windows. ‘Now you can stay the whole night,’ he said. And Millie thrilled to the words.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘The whole night. Oh, Franklin.’
They kissed deeply and later, in her pass
ion, she cried out, ‘My darling, my darling’, again and again.
Franklin learned a lot that year. He learned how to become a good restaurateur from Lumet, who was only too eager to appoint him manager of Le Cafe Gustave; and he learned how to become a good lover from Millie, who was only too eager to teach him the joys of sex.
Franklin grew very fond of Millie and took great pleasure in his new-found sexuality, but he couldn’t rid himself of a deep-seated guilt. It didn’t seem quite right, somehow, to be so abandoned. His plan had always been to marry a respectable woman who would bear him sons. But there would be time for that, he supposed. And Millie seemed to quite happily accept the relationship as it was; she made no demands upon him, and appeared to have no false expectations.
Indeed, when Franklin had discovered that she’d lost her job it had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her that he should pay her rent. ‘Very well,’ she agreed finally. ‘But only until I find another position.’ As Solly accepted the money he said, ‘You’re a kind man, Mr Ross’, fully aware of the situation. Of course Solly had been fully aware of the situation even before the double bed had arrived. The lust shared by Millie and Mr Ross was positively palpable.
Gradually Franklin’s room took on a new look. As Millie grew bolder, she insisted he allow her to buy a new counterpane, a pretty lace tablecloth, fresh flowers daily. Franklin liked it. When a job opportunity came Millie’s way he told her not to take it. The hours were too long, he said, and she hated factory work. Eventually she agreed to accept his support, insisting upon doing his washing and mending by way of exchange and all the time wishing that they had a real home so that she could cook and keep house. But the idea never seemed to occur to Franklin and of course Millie never dared suggest it, so they continued to live in their separate rooms.
Eighteen months after they’d been working together, Gustave Lumet suggested a deal which Franklin was only too quick to accept.
A partnership in an upmarket new restaurant was the offer. Gustave had already chosen the site, a prime piece of real estate overlooking Sydney Harbour. The house was of the grand colonial style, built in the eighties, surrounded by wide verandahs, with large rooms, high, decoratively moulded ceilings and open fireplaces. A grand central staircase led to a second floor, the rooms of which opened out on to balconies bordered by ornate iron lacework.
‘Elegant,’ Gustave explained. ‘People pay for elegance. We cater for the rich, mon ami.
It would be a costly exercise – not only did they plan to buy the property, but the conversion from house to restaurant would be expensive and it would most certainly take time to accumulate clientele.
Gustave dismissed the severe economic climate with a derisive snort. ‘There is always money, mon ami – in times like these it just takes a little longer to find it.’
Once they’d acquired the property, the plan was for Franklin to front it. No one was to know Gustave was involved. ‘A different image,’ he said. ‘You understand? I am known to cater to the Bohemian. We need a true aristocrat, a man who will be known to cater to the patrician.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘And to those who pretend to the patrician.’
It had taken Franklin quite a while to recognise the fact that Gustave wasn’t really a snob at all. He was a very astute assessor of people and their requirements and he played his role of the flamboyant French poseur purely because it was the image which most suited his purpose.
Franklin’s accumulated funds would not stretch to a half-share in the deal and his only option appeared to be an appeal to his father. He loathed the idea of fielding all the questions Charles would ask and putting up with all the lectures on the responsible handling of family finances. And, after putting himself through the ordeal, who could say what the outcome would be anyway? He would end up being either refused or deeply in debt and answerable at every turn to his father. The prospect of that was odious.
He said as much to Millie one night – she had become his regular sounding board.
‘But you don’t need your family at all,’ she answered. When he stared at her uncomprehendingly, she spelled it out for him. ‘Solly. Solly, my dear. He has finances. He is quite a wealthy man and you know he has always wanted to go into business with you. In fact, he’s been biding his time for just such an opportunity.’ When Franklin was about to interrupt she concluded, ‘What’s more, he’s a very good friend and an honourable man.’
Solly was, of course, thrilled with the idea and they found that, between the two of them, their funds were more than adequate for a half-share in the venture.
Franklin thought it only fair he tell Gustave that he was bringing in a partner. He wondered how the Frenchman would react to a Polish bootmaker from Surry Hills being a part of his elegant project aimed at the patrician market.
Gustave merely laughed. ‘You think the money I put in is all my own? I too have silent partners, my friend.’
Of course. Franklin remembered Catherine telling him that Le Cafe Gustave had been quite a front for the sly grog trade in the earlier days of prohibition and Gustave had formed a cosy alliance with Kate Leigh. Well, no questions would be asked – if Kate and her mob were Gustave’s silent partners, it was all right by Franklin – just so long as there was nothing illegal expected.
Gustave was quick to read Franklin’s reaction. ‘A property investment only,’ he said. ‘My partners remain silent, I promise.’
Solly didn’t remain silent. In fact Solly was so excited by the whole prospect that he was more voluble than ever. And many of his ideas were excellent. They should furnish the five bedrooms on the first floor luxuriously, he said, and rent them out to top-class clientele. And when Franklin had set up his wine cellar, they should convert the smaller adjoining room to a showroom.
‘People come to dine, they taste the wines,’ Solly said. ‘That way you teach them about your Ross Estate.’
Regular wine tastings – what an excellent idea, Franklin thought.
It was hard work but it was exciting, and to Millie it was positively thrilling. Far from being left out, she was very much a part of the whole project. Again, Solly’s idea.
‘I tell you, Boss, you give Millie a job.’ For the past six months Solly had taken to calling Franklin ‘Boss’. Despite their being partners, he couldn’t quite come at ‘Franklin’ – it didn’t seem right somehow. ‘You give Millie a job and she will do the work of three people, you just see. You will have housekeeper and maid as well.’ It was a deliberate ploy. Solly had been aware of Millie’s utter devastation when they had decided that Franklin should occupy one of the rooms at the house. This way she could remain a part of his life. ‘You could even move her in with you,’ he said boldly.
Franklin stared back at him. ‘You mean live together?’
What was so bad about that? Solly wondered. The woman would lay down her life for Franklin. They spent most of their nights in the same room and in the daytime Franklin was out working. Why not let her keep house for him? Why not even marry her, for God’s sake!
But, because he could sense Franklin’s disapproval, Solly made light of his suggestion. ‘Just an idea. Sure. Why not?’
Franklin could have told Solly why not, but he didn’t. He changed the subject instead.
There were specific reasons why Franklin Ross would never marry Millie Tingwell. He believed he loved her. He probably loved her as much as it was in his capacity to love a woman. But there was a much stronger driving force to be considered. He was twenty-seven years of age; he must start a family before he turned thirty. And with the right woman. The right young woman. A woman of breeding, no older than twenty-five, with plenty of child-bearing years ahead of her. Millie was working class and in two months time she would be thirty-five years old.
It was a pity, Franklin thought. Millie could have made him happy. There was nothing he would like more than to have her cook and keep house for him the way he knew she wanted to. He was fully aware of how deeply she loved him.
/> He never discussed the situation with her, careful not to encourage false hopes in any way. And he was most particular about the precautions they took to prevent conception. Each night after they made love, he would insist that Millie douche herself immediately. When she wanted to curl up beside him, he ordered her out of bed. ‘Straight away, Millie,’ he’d say. ‘It doesn’t work if you don’t do it straight away.’ And Millie would dutifully traipse downstairs and out the back to the bathroom. She did it to keep the peace more than anything. She wasn’t actually sure if douching worked and she wasn’t even sure if she could conceive anyway. She’d certainly wanted to during her eight-year marriage but it had never happened.
For the first year Millie hadn’t questioned the need to avoid conception – of course it made sense. She quite understood that Franklin would one day seek a young wife of his own class and in the meantime she was only too grateful for his support and friendship. But as she grew to love him and as she sensed his love in return, she couldn’t help but feel hurt. She knew she had no right to, Franklin had never promised her anything. But each time she squatted in the bath and flushed herself out, she felt humiliated and rejected.
They called the restaurant The Colony House and it took them nearly two years to get it up on its feet but eventually it proved every bit as successful as Gustave had predicted. The Colony House gained an international reputation and catered to the elite from all corners of the globe.
‘Didn’t I tell you, mon ami? Gustave boasted as they set up a private poker game for a guest in one of the upstairs suites, ‘there are always people with money. You just need to give them a little time to sniff you out.’
