by Susan Lewis
“Tell me,” she said, “did you actually mean it when you . . . well, you implied that you actually wanted me to stay?”
“Naturally.”
“Even though we didn’t win the account?”
“It was never that important,” he said. “What was important was that you should be able to stay, and that Candy wouldn’t be in a position to make the agency, or me, suffer for it.”
Ashley swallowed hard. “This is all a little too much for me to take in.”
“Maybe you would like to sit down now?” he suggested.
“No,” she shook her head. “No thank you.” She walked over to his desk and put her cup back on the tray. “One other thing,” she said, after all, she might just as well have it all out in the open now. “I’m curious, but was it Candida who Alex met when you took him riding at the weekend?”
Conrad seemed uncomfortable with the question. “Ah, yes, it was Candy. She arrived unannounced, and with the results of your pitch still not decided I wasn’t in a position to ask her to leave.”
“I see,” was all she said.
He put his cup beside hers on the tray, and then, to her utter confusion, took her hand in his. “You don’t, but I’m not going to explain.” Reaching out for her other hand he added, “I’m glad you want to stay.”
She looked up into his face, and her heart suddenly tightened as she saw the serious look in his dark eyes. He grinned and then, putting his hand behind her head, he pulled her towards him and kissed her full on the mouth.
“Oh,” she said, as he let her go.
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
She realised that once again she was impersonating a goldfish. She gulped and tried to regain control of her mouth. “I can’t think of anything else.”
He laughed. “Did you know that I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you?”
“Oh Conrad, that’s not true, and you know it.”
“If it’s not,” he said, “then it should be,” and pulling himself to his feet he took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. She looked back at him, not daring to speak for fear that one word would shatter this moment and bring them tumbling back to reality. That any moment she would wake up and find herself back in London. He lowered his head very slowly towards her, his lips parting as he pulled her to him. He pressed his mouth against hers, and as she reached up to put her arms round him he pulled her hard against him.
She clung to him, feeling her body melt against his, wanting to be even closer to him, forgetting everything, knowing only that this was what she wanted, more than anything else in the world, to be here with him like this.
The buzzer on his desk brought them abruptly back to reality. Not letting her go, Conrad leaned over and flicked the switch. “Your car’s out front,” said Candice, and the line went dead.
He turned back to Ashley, and smiled to see the question in her eyes, and the disappointment too. He couldn’t be going out, not now.
“Come along,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
He stopped at the door and turned back to take her in his arms. “Do you seriously think I can wait a moment longer?”
She felt herself begin to shake, and he caught her to him. “Say you’ll come.”
They said very little as they drove. The air between them was charged with a desire that had been suppressed for too long. Occasionally he turned to look at her, but she didn’t dare to look back. She knew if he touched her she might lose control all together. She wanted him so badly, her body ached.
When they pulled up outside his apartment block he tossed the keys to the doorman and ushered her inside.
By the time the elevator reached the ninth floor every inch of her body was on fire for him. He closed his apartment door behind them, and pulled her into the bedroom.
With desperation they tore at one another’s clothes. Naked, she stepped into his arms. He lowered his head to kiss her, moulding her body against his so she could feel the hardness of his thighs against hers, the strength of his arms as they circled her waist, and the thrill of his hands pressing against her buttocks. Then pushing her back onto the bed, for a moment he stood looking down at her. His eyes were like a caress on her skin, and she moaned softly as she felt her body responding. He stepped towards her and her eyes dropped to his penis, pushing up against his belly, achingly swollen, ready to take her. Her eyes flew back to his and she began to tremble as, taking her legs in his hands, he lifted them apart and dropped to his knees in front of her. His tongue was hard and manipulative, making her cry out as she snaked her fingers through his hair. Cupping her breasts roughly in his hands he took her nipples, squeezing and pulling them until they rose like hard beads from her body. And then his mouth was there, kissing them and soothing them with his tongue. She reached down and took his penis in her hand. He gasped then groaned as he felt his control slipping away. And then he was beside her and his fingers were pushing into her, and she thrust her hips towards him. He opened his mouth wide and took hers in a bruising embrace. Catching her savagely about the waist, with one swift move he was inside her. She cried out with a voice she barely recognised as her own as she felt the full depth of his penetration. His passion was violent, and his tongue demanding as he pushed it deep into her mouth. She clutched at his hair, and dug her nails into his back as he ground into her, faster and faster. And beneath him she drove her body to his, meeting him with unleashed urgency. Briefly he raised his head and looked down into her eyes, and then as the seed began to rush from his body he called out her name, and as if from a long way away she heard her own voice, crying out for him, as their bodies burst into waves of the most intense and exquisite pleasure they had ever known.
It was several minutes before either of them had gained enough breath to speak. When she looked into his face she saw that his eyes were tender and he was concerned that he had been too violent, but she only smiled and pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. He laughed then, saying perhaps it was her who had been too violent with him. She sank her teeth into his fingers, making him laugh again, and he rolled over onto his back, pulling her into his arms. Idly he ran his fingers over her skin, pausing at her breasts and teasing her nipples back into the achingly erect buds they had been before. She groaned and turned in his arms, taking the laughter from his face as he saw the dark look in her eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, as he felt himself begin to respond. And this time they were tender and patient, holding one another close, allowing their bodies to speak in a way that words never could.
Later, lying contentedly in his arms and idly running her fingers over his thighs, Ashley sighed and turned to kiss his shoulder. She felt a warm glow ripple softly around her heart as his arms tightened about her, and feeling him looking down at her, she turned to gaze into his face, his lopsided grin appearing more precious to her than she could ever have imagined. “I love you,” she whispered.
“Sure you do,” he said.
She opened her mouth to deliver a hasty retort, but he caught her face in his hands and kissed her. “And I love you,” he said, as he let her go. And then his eyes were teasing again. “Hell, I ought to, you’re the best roll in the hay a man’s ever had.”
She choked.
“Yes?” he said, and she fell against him laughing.
“You know there’s one thing for sure here,” he said, after a few minutes.
“And what would that be?”
“This afternoon beats the pants off the first time we made love. And I didn’t think that was possible.”
She lifted her head from his chest and looked into his face. “What do you mean, the first time?” she asked, finally.
He cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb along her cheek. “Remember the swimming pool?”
Ashley pushed herself away from him, but before she could speak he had caught her in his arms and planted his mouth very firmly on hers. At that moment the
phone started to ring. Swearing under his breath, Conrad reached out and picked it up.
“I’m sorry,” Candice’s voice came over, “but this is important.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“‘Fraid not,” she said.
Conrad sighed and pulled himself up from the bed. “OK, go ahead.”
“Ashley’s maid is here.”
“What does she want?” Conrad turned to look at Ashley, who smiled at him and began to trace tiny patterns across his back.
“She’s brought a note with her, that she found in Ashley’s apartment.”
“What do you mean, a note? What sort of note?”
“Well, it’s from her husband, uh, ex-husband. It says that he has gone back to England, and taken her little boy with him.”
“What!” Conrad almost shouted.
Ashley’s hand stopped on his back. A sixth sense seemed to tell her that this might be something to do with her.
“Does it say anything else?”
“I’m afraid so,” Candice answered. “It says that if she tries to get him back, then, hell look, I’ll read it to you. He says, ‘I told you, Ashley, that you would never have Alex in New York. Now perhaps you will believe me. I have taken him back to England, and if you do anything, and I mean anything, to get him back again, then I will not hesitate, I will kill him, and kill myself too. This time it is not a threat. I told you you would never win. Now perhaps you will believe me.’ He signed himself, your husband, Keith.”
Ashley was watching Conrad’s face, and he was only too aware of her eyes on him. He turned away. “Get on to the airport,” he said to Candice, “book two tickets on the next Concorde out. Or the next flight, whichever gets there first. Send someone round to her apartment,” he glanced at Ashley, “and collect the necessary and have it sent straight over to Kennedy.”
“Right on it,” said Candice, but Conrad had already put the phone down.
“What is it?” said Ashley, her face ashen. The uneasy feeling she had started the day with suddenly hammered against her head.
He put his arms round her, but her body was tense. “Just put your clothes on.”
“No,” she said, “no. What’s happened, Conrad? Tell me. Alex, it’s something to do with Alex, isn’t it? Tell me, please!”
“Sssh,” he tried to soothe her. “Come along now. I’ll tell you on the way to the airport.”
“But where are we going?”
“To London.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Phone for you, Jenn!”
Jenneen turned back, looking at her watch. “I’m already late for editing,” she said, as she took the phone from the secretary. “Who is it?”
“Didn’t say,” the secretary answered, and walked off to her own desk.
“Hello, Jenneen Grey.”
“It’s Matthew.”
Jenneen froze. It was the first time she’d heard from him since the day he had beaten her up.
“I want to see you tonight, Jenn. Seven thirty, your place.”
Jenneen was surprised, it wasn’t like Matthew to make an appointment. “Well,” she said, “I’m glad you do, because it so happens that I want to see you too.”
“Good,” said Matthew. “I won’t be staying long so you don’t have to cancel any engagements.”
“How considerate of you,” Jenneen remarked, and hung up.
She wandered on up to VTR on the fifth floor, her mind only half on what she was doing or where she was going.
But it wasn’t Matthew she was thinking about. She was still in the hold of the strange and alien feeling that had been with her ever since the weekend. At first she had been unable to identify it. It wasn’t a bad feeling, in fact it was quite the reverse. She liked the way it seeped into her bones when she woke in the mornings, the way it followed her through the day and sometimes into her dreams. And as the days went by and she and Vicky spent more and more time together, she finally began to understand that the feeling was one of completeness. Completeness, and honesty. Finally she was facing up to the things she felt inside. There was nothing to run away from any more, because she had found what she always needed, had she but known it.
It was still a little difficult to grasp sometimes, that she and Vicky had become lovers. It seemed incredible. And even now as she remembered the softness of Vicky’s skin, the beauty of her eyes, and the way she kissed her, a part of her still burned with shame. But the shame was becoming less and less as each day passed, and Jenneen was growing to accept that other part of her that almost rejoiced in the feelings. It was right. So right. For some reason it didn’t seem sordid, not like she might have expected it to. And not like all the other times, the times when she had been with a man. It was clean and gentle and good.
She had talked to no one about what had happened, not even Dr Bryant, the psychiatrist she had seen the day before; that would have to come later. One step at a time, Vicky had told her, there was no hurry. Jenneen could see her face now, looking at her, her eyes shining, her voice gentle.
“You’re not the first person in the world this has happened to,” Vicky had smiled, “and you won’t be the last. For some it is easier. All the prejudices that have been implanted in you by your family over the years won’t go away quickly. You must give it time. But you will see, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Jenneen smiled. Dear Vicky. Of the two of them she had always been the strong one, the one who would never let life get her down. But this morning she had seemed vulnerable, and almost afraid. Jenneen wondered if Vicky was already in love with her, and surprisingly the thought didn’t frighten her. She had to admit to a certain sense of foreboding, and there was no doubt the whole thing would be complicated, but Jenneen knew that in her heart she wanted Vicky to be in love with her.
She wanted to call her now, or go round to the shop and see her. She wanted to hold her in her arms again. It was a strange sensation, holding another woman, in a way she had only ever held a man before. There was something so exhilarating about it, as if she could become drunk on the mere aroma of another woman’s skin.
Jenneen laughed out loud. To think that she was fantasising about something she had never even dared to think about before. And now it was already beyond fantasy. The touch of Vicky’s lips, moving so gently against hers, sent waves of emotion through her that she had never experienced before. The feel of her breasts against her own, and her small hands running lightly across her neck and down over her shoulders. Less than a week ago it would have been something that Jenneen thought she might have found repulsive, and unthinkable. Yet now all she wanted was to feel her close again.
She walked into the VTR booth where an insert was being edited for the following day’s programme. Greg, the editor, looked up as she came in. “I carried on without you,” he said. “Do you want to see what I’ve done so far?”
“If you like,” said Jenneen. “But I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
Greg’s fingers hovered over the buttons. “Shall I spin back, or not?”
“Go on then, let’s have a look.”
Moving his fingers like a clumsy pianist he pressed the appropriate buttons and sent the machine outside spinning back to the beginning of the tape. Jenneen wandered over to the door and looked out into the main area that housed the large video tape machines.
“How many machines have we got?”
“Two.”
“Silly question,” she said. “When do we ever get more than two? But I thought we were getting three today?”
“We were,” he answered, “but the news have taken one for an hour to transmit some interview on the six o’clock.”
She looked over at the machines again as she heard the tape wind off the end.
“Damn!” Greg muttered. He got up from his chair. “Hang on, I’ll just go and lace up again.”
Jenneen followed him over and watched him as he threaded the tape back into the machine. Suddenly she thought she heard a voice she recognized
. She looked around, trying to see where the voice was coming from. “Hey,” she cried, looking at the little monitor on the machine adjacent to theirs, “isn’t that Bob McElfrey?”
Greg looked up. “Know him, do you?” He sounded impressed.
“Yes. What’s he doing here? Which programme is that?”
“The news.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Jenneen, and she disappeared into the booth next to theirs. “Mind if I watch?” she asked the engineer who was transmitting the interview.
He cleared his briefcase from the chair beside him. “Be my guest.”
The interview was already half through. She had been battling with her guilt for days now that she had not been in touch with Ellamarie, but she had been so busy since she had returned from Vicky’s. Still, if she watched the interview, she’d ring Ellamarie after and tell her how wonderful she thought Bob was.
Bob was talking about the Arts Conference that he was attending later that evening, and Jenneen remembered that she too had been invited. She was rather regretting not accepting now that she knew Bob v as going to be there, when the camera pulled back to a two shot, to reveal the woman sitting beside Bob.
Jenneen sat forward as the woman began to speak. “. . . yes,” she was saying, “yes, I still do some eventing myself on occasions, but not often. And Bob used to, in his younger days, didn’t you?” she said, turning to look at him.
Bob laughed, and it was then that Jenneen noticed that they were holding hands.
“Have you ever found it to be a strain on your marriage; with you being so busy with your horses and Bob being away such a lot?” the interviewer asked.
“Not a strain exactly,” was the reply, “but I have to admit I do miss him when he’s not at home.”
The interviewer turned back to Bob. “I believe that you are flying to New York on Friday.”
Bob nodded.
“Would that be anything to do with the rumours that you are to make a film of the Queen of Cornwall?”
Bob laughed.
“We’ve heard rumours that you might have found someone to play the part of the Queen. Can I ask who it’s to be?”
