He led her to the stairs but as they ducked under the strings of joyful balloons he stopped again, heat and sexual energy flooding from his body and he looked to her, deep into her eyes and he spoke again. “Mary, is it okay?” She smiled and they went upstairs and into his bedroom. It was good and a relief that he hadn’t taken her into her own room, though she knew she would have gone, but this was better, this was right.
She sat on the edge of the mattress and he knelt on the floor in front of her. Leaning down to him she kissed his full lips again and then he reached to the front of her blouse and began to unfasten the buttons. With her arm loosely around his shoulders she drank in the nearness of him and the smell of him and the youth and strength. He shuffled forward on his knees and pushed the blouse down from her shoulders then pulled at the straps on her bra and she shrugged them off. He reached around and flicked at the fastenings.
As her breasts were freed from the lace and silk she had a moment of panic and drew back covering herself with her hands. He leaned away from her holding up his palms giving her space, allowing her time. She looked at him kneeling before her, his hair dishevelled, his T shirt creased and marked with a splash of cream cheese and she felt her heart would burst with emotion. She bent and slipped the leather of his belt through the buckle and then twisted the button through the hole and pushed down the zip on his jeans. He took her hands in his and half dragged, half pushed her backwards onto the bed and she shuffled on her behind across the covers and then swung her legs around and up. He stepped out of his pants and dragged the T shirt over his head. She had wriggled out of her trousers and in a moment of modesty grabbed at the corner of the duvet and pulled it over her. He slid underneath the covers, the firmness of his chest against hers, the bulge and swell of his muscles on top of her legs and stomach, and she closed her eyes and her mind to everything but the sensations.
At first she was hesitant, she stroked at his chest, almost hairless and sheened with youth. The end of day roughness on his chin was a counterpoint to the smoothness of lips against her mouth, her throat and the skin of her breasts. As he kissed her nipples she raised her head to look down on the dark brown cap of his hair and he pulled back and grinned at her. His hands stroked at the rise of her belly and down to the promise of her thighs as she let her head fall back against the pillow. He raised himself above her and waited for the final permission, she shifted under him and the moan that escaped her throat was pure pleasure and guiltless joy lost in the moment and conscious only of his strength and the drive of his passion.
Chapter 18
Mary opened her eyes. She was full of stars, a deep relaxed satisfaction overlaid the overcrowded heat around her. Her gaze wandered across the cream walls and blue curtains of the guest room as reality drove aside the quiet peaceful feeling. Now it was hard to breathe, she turned her head. Surely this was a dream, the truth must be other than she knew it to be.
No.
He was there, asleep, his hair dishevelled on the pillow, an arm thrown carelessly across the covers, at ease and peaceful.
What had she done? What the hell had she done?
Sudden tears ran from her eyes and trickled across her face, tracking under her ears. She had to get away from this rumpled space, and even as she slid her feet to the floor other feelings crowded in, memories that were warm and mortifying at the same time. Shock made her shiver and still the ghost of what had happened whispered, his arms, his lips, his loving – generous and energetic, unquestioning and straightforward; Jacob making love to her.
Clothes were heaped on the carpet and she gathered them up scuttling past as quietly as possible. Once in the sanctuary of her own room and dragging on a bath robe she struggled to calm her jittering mind and examine what had happened.
The wine had made her silly. The tension, the misery of his leaving had made her needy and vulnerable but it wasn’t fair, wasn’t true to imply that he had taken any sort of advantage. It had been mutual, all of it. He had given her every opportunity to step back, to regain the miserable sanity which would have been the right way to go. There had been no coercion; she had wanted it to happen.
Perched on the end of the bed she tried to calm herself and make sense of it all. What had he thought, this young man, how had he seen her? Had he wanted it to happen as much as she had? Events would say yes but then he was a young male, hormones raging, sex as much a need as food and drink. What would he think now, when he woke and remembered? Would he recall sagging arms, cellulite on her thighs, the appendix scar that puckered her belly? Would he think her ridiculous and laugh at her? A sob broke from her throat. How could she face him now?
He was moving, the quiet bang as the headboard shifted against the wall and then the creak of the one dodgy floorboard. The toilet in the tiny en-suite bathroom flushed, she heard the tap. The door whispered against the carpet.
She stood. There was no way to avoid this, to not see him, to speak to him but if the earth had opened right then and offered a hole to lose herself in she would have leapt without a moment’s hesitation.
She heard him on the stairs, “Mary, hey Mary, where are you?”
Her throat was too dry to answer. He was still calling, “Mary.” Now the sound of feet running back up the staircase. She glanced down, pulled the robe tighter across her chest, ran fingers through sleep flattened hair and took one pace across the bedroom floor. He knocked and waited. “Hey Mary, you in there?”
“Yes, I’m here Jacob.” He pushed open the door. He wore his soft gym pants, his chest was bare, hair rumpled. He was grinning at her, a great goofy, little boy grin that lit his eyes, his face beamed with happiness. He stepped to her and wrapped her in his arms.
“Hi gorgeous. I wondered where you’d gone. I’m starving, what about that steak? Can we have that steak now?” and he bent and kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her in his embrace. She raised her eyes and saw nothing there of mockery or shame or embarrassment, all there was in the sparkling gaze was open good humour and yes, affection and friendship and as the fear and worry melted away she was happy, so very, very happy.
Chapter 19
Mary washed salad, baked potatoes and then griddled the steak. She had sent Jacob into the little used dining room with candles, condiments and instructions. Now they sat in the dim light, hours later than they had planned. Flickering shadows danced across the walls and quiet jazz stroked the edges of hearing. It was blissful and romantic and for Mary the nearest thing to perfection that she could imagine.
They raised their glasses of red wine and Jacob leaned across the corner of the table. “To you, lovely, lovely lady. I am so very happy that I met you, I am so thankful that you let me into your home and I am so grateful that you have allowed me into your life.” As he spoke, his voice low, intimate and his eyes bejewelled by the candle flames, Mary felt the tears well against her eyelids.
He reached across and curled his fingers around her hand where it lay against the dark wood. “Mary, I bet you are in turmoil. I am, and so you must be. I know that this must seem odd to you and a bit – well a bit scary I suppose.” She didn’t try to speak because she knew that her voice had flown and so she nodded dumbly. The tears escaped and with an embarrassed giggle she brushed them aside. “Don’t worry lovely Mary, please don’t worry. Tonight we will just leave things, let them sit as they are. You are very special to me and please believe me that I won’t ever ask you to do anything that you don’t want to. So, let’s just enjoy this,” he raised his hand and waved it over the table settings, “let’s just enjoy this, and then – when you are ready we can talk about – us, but for now relax and be happy. Yes?”
She was overwhelmed, how could such happiness, such kindness be hers. How was it that this young man had such maturity and sense whereas all she felt was surprise and confusion? It was wonderful and though there were doubts, fears and worries pushing at the gates of her mind she slammed them shut, looked into his eyes and smiled...
The food was good. �
�I’ve got dessert, I don’t know what it’ll be like, a meringue thing.”
“Yum, I love meringue, is it one of those with fruit?” She nodded. “Is there cream, oh please tell me you got cream?” Another nod. “Oh wow, how much better can this all get? I’m in heaven.” Though she knew that he was joking and it was simply a turn of phrase Mary felt it echo deep inside and for her, right now at this hour, on this night, she was in heaven.
They took their coffee into the lounge and lit more candles. Jacob threw himself onto the couch and reached out to take her hand and pull her down beside him. He wrapped both his arms around her and they lolled, sated, slightly fuzzy from the wine and the warmth and the aftermath of sex and they were at peace.
Mary wasn’t stupid she knew real life was still out there. There would be problems, a reckoning. What they had done wouldn’t hurt anyone but she wasn’t a teen, she had never taken sex, lovemaking, call it what you will, lightly. Until Jacob, she had only had sex with two other men. There had been her husband of course and a long term boyfriend when they were students. She didn’t know about Jacob, about young people these days. It wasn’t to be doubted that they were more informed, more knowledgeable than she and her contemporaries had been, but how important it was to them, what it meant was something that she had never examined and now it seemed she would have to.
The tension, the sex and the food had made them sleepy, and struggle as they might they both felt their eyelids drooping. Jacob’s head lolled forward, and he jerked upwards with a start. Mary stood and pulled him to his feet, “Come on, I think we should leave the dishes and…” the sentence had no end. What should she say, “erm.”
“What do you want to do Mary, we can go into my room if you like but if you want to, you know, sleep on your own it’s fine as well.” She thought of her bed, cold and empty, she thought of his rumpled and creased and she thought of his arms, the comfort of body heat in the night, the gentle sigh of his breath and a desperate loneliness overwhelmed her.
“Would it be okay, if I came into your room? Just for now, tonight, I would like that. It’s your last night and…”
“Come on, what about the dishes?”
“No, leave them, I can do them tomorrow, it’s Saturday.”
He took her hand and they went together up the stairs and into the rather denuded room and as he curled his body around hers, his arms across her waist, they drifted away each into their own reality and each to their own thoughts and emotions.
Chapter 20
Coffee, rich and warm, the smell of it dragged Mary from the depths of sleep. Before she opened her eyes she took stock. She could hear the shower running and smell the coffee, the bed was warm beside her. She hesitated to fully emerge from the dim cocoon that wrapped her around. In her mind she replayed the earth shattering events of yesterday and thought quite simply - Now what?
Jacob was singing in the bathroom. As he turned off the water she heard a vaguely recognisable tune, something new that she had been aware of but hadn’t really registered. As he filled in forgotten words with strange “dummy dumm de dumm” sounds she began to giggle and he opened the bathroom door to peer out at her.
“I’m sorry. Was there something?” By this time she had pushed herself upwards to recline on the pillows. At the appearance of his shower reddened face, dark hair dripping onto the carpet and his skin glowing with heat all she could do was to laugh even louder and shake her head. He shrugged one shoulder and pursing his lips in a mock petulant gesture he turned, the movement caused him to drop an end of the towel and she had a glimpse of his behind as he stepped back behind the door. His legs were strong, muscular and covered with fine brown hair, his backside plump and rounded, a faint tan line above the waist and on the top of his thighs. He was beautiful, like a painting or a statue of a perfect young animal.
He had left a tray on the side table with a cafetiere and two mugs and a couple of the special chocolates that they hadn’t eaten after the meal last night. She reached over and plucked up a liquid cherry. As the dark chocolate melted onto her tongue to be followed by the taste of bitter cherry and liqueur she snuggled back onto the pillows and pulled the duvet up to her chin. What a luxury, simply having someone else make her coffee in the morning and bring chocolate, liquid cherries at that, it was perfect.
Jacob ran from the bathroom door and leapt onto the bed. He had pulled on a pair of boxers but his skin was still damp and his hair dripped onto the pillowcase. He took her face in both hands, “Morning lovely lady.” He kissed her lips, deeply and slowly. “Hmm, cherries, nice.”
They sat side by side cradling mugs of coffee, Jacob slid his bare legs under the covers. With the heat of him beside her there came deep inside a delicious stirring such as she hadn’t felt since the early days of marriage when it was all new and exciting and magical. The thought drew a mew of pleasure but also her eyes filled with sudden tears. How sad that this had been lost for so many years. She turned to the young man at her side, overwhelmed with emotion and unable to speak.
Without a word he put down his mug and turned and took her into his arms. “Don’t cry lovely lady, please don’t cry. It’s all okay, there’s nothing to worry about.” He cradled her gently until she was able to collect herself and turning her face up to smile into his eyes.
“Jacob, thank you.” It was all she could think of to say. Her heart was so full, there were so many things that she wanted to tell him, so much to discuss and so many, so very many fears that must be verbalised and all she could say right then was, “Thank you.”
He tipped his head to the side, his lips curved upwards in a small smile, “No, thank you ma’am.”
It was all to be faced. It would be discussed and the fears must be recognised and dealt with but for just another few minutes Mary decided to gift herself the pleasure of sharing the morning with him. She tasted the bitter chocolate and rich creamy coffee and leaned against his firm body and listened to the bird song and early morning sounds from outside in a world changed irrevocably since the last time she had walked in it.
Eventually, the coffee gone, the day already in full swing, she rolled onto her side and began to slide across the bed. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Well, I thought, you know, it’s nearly half past eight, time to get up.”
“Why?”
“Well, there are things to do, stuff to sort out…” She shook her head, puzzlement drawing twin lines on her forehead.
“Well, if you like but erm…” He lifted the covers and she saw that he definitely had something on his mind that was far from tidying the dining room and sorting the laundry. For a moment she hesitated, long years of sense and order arguing with this urgent invitation to debauchery.
A time of youth, a backward glimpse of lazy mornings and careless weekends flicked across her memory. She looked at him for a few moments longer until, with a grin that was part mischievous little boy, part passionate man, he pulled her back under the cover. She lay in the middle of the bed as he rolled to her and stroked her goose-pimpled skin. He nibbled at the lobe of an ear. His hands caressed her breasts and the worry and fear and all the rest of it slid away to be replaced by warmth and thrill and the utter bliss of lovemaking in the daylight in a safe warm place with a person to whom she was learning to give her trust and, maybe, her love.
Chapter 21
The lump in her throat was choking her. Mary tried to eat a piece of toast but it simply wasn’t possible. She pushed her plate away.
“Aren’t you eating your breakfast?” Jacob had scoffed a bacon sandwich and was now making short work of toast spread thickly with butter.
“No, I’m not hungry.” As she watched him her stomach clenched. There were things that needed to be said, stuff that should be addressed but it was impossible to know where to start. Was he still leaving today, this morning, as was planned, and if so what did that mean?
“So, today?” She let the question hang in the air, vague and unfinished. He nodded.
“Yeah, well. Most of my stuff is already moved, there are just those two boxes in the hall. Steve said he might be able to come over later in his car and give me a lift with them but if not I can get a taxi.”
“Oh, right. I could always give you a lift.” It was the accepted thing to say wasn’t it, the right thing to do? But really she wasn’t sure she could. How would it be to meet the others in his house, the young men – oh and women – were there women? She didn’t know. How would it be to say hello and cart his stuff in and leave him there. Would he introduce her as his friend, or maybe not at all? Tears filled her eyes, she was out of her depth, floundering in a sea of confusion.
She had hoped that he would stay now, after what had happened, but found it impossible to ask and if he did how were they to go on? What would she tell her friends, her family? She looked at him, his head bent over the plate. What was he feeling?
The chair tipped as she pushed away from the table, he started and half rose to his feet. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, of course I’m fine.” Without a backward glance she left the kitchen, pounded up the stairs and locked herself in the bathroom where she lowered herself to the little wooden stool, wrapped her arms around her shivering body and let the tears come. He was leaving, okay it wasn’t far away but it might as well be another country. She couldn’t see him, not in his new place. It wasn’t her territory and what did it say to her, the fact that he was carrying on with the plan, that he had made no move to discuss what had happened?
She dragged a piece of tissue from the toilet roll and dabbed at her streaming eyes.
Last night he had been wonderful. This morning in the sunlit bedroom there had been warmth and loving but now it was as if none of it had happened. Yes, he had smiled at her when he came into the kitchen and thrown an arm about her waist, hugging her to him and planting a kiss on her cheek but nothing had been said, no discussion about the future, about the sex. She had still felt warmed by the memory but Jacob, he had been hungry, had gulped back a glass of water and then pushed bread into the toaster. Normal, ordinary. She hadn’t known what to expect but this seemed wrong, or was it?
PICTURES OF YOU: a gripping psychological suspense thriller Page 5
