by Primula Bond
I envisaged Tom in my mind with his face buried between my legs, supporting my thighs with his strong arms, his tongue gently lapping at the labia and clitoris, with sighs issuing from his throat between breaths, his eyes adoring me. I closed my eyes and bucked with pleasurable agony. I slid my hand under the sheet and tweaked my nipple as if it was Tom’s lips. The sensations from my clitoris and nipples made me arch upwards and bring my knees together.
‘If only I could feel you inside me.’ My breaths became shallow as tingles rippled down my thighs toward the toes. Sensations raced through my body; as I looked at Tom’s photograph, a mist descended over my eyes. Through the tears, I was trapped with burning sensations that needed to erupt, but I was forced to create the climax I desired Tom to give me.
‘I wish you’d hold me, make love to me, just one more time …’ My legs squeezed together and trapped my hand. Everything was meaningless without Tom. Inside my core, I burned with lust, ached from unfulfilled pleasure, and needed so badly the ecstasy of orgasm, but grief and anger imprisoned me. I kissed the photograph and switched off the light.
As the glow faded and darkness accentuated my surroundings, the young lovers’ laughs faded into the night. I closed my eyes and stifled tears as Tom’s face became hazy. ‘I miss you so much,’ I murmured. The streetlamp shone a small amount of light on his facial contours. I kissed him again and laid his photograph upon his pillow, my arms trailing across the bed as though I lay next to him. For all the years I’d fallen asleep next to him, my arm across his broad, hairy chest, it was the one place where I felt completely safe. Even when he was tired, there was never a time when he rolled away from me. I’d been fortunate to find a great husband who loved me just as I was.
The six o’clock alarm roused me from sleep as daylight forced itself through the curtains’ fabric. I rubbed my eyes and saw Tom’s photograph balancing at an acute angle between the bed and locker.
I draped my legs over the edge of the bed, too tired to move, or just unwilling to face the day ahead. Every muscle ached. In the full-length mirror, I looked at my tired eyes and naked body and quickly covered myself with the bathrobe that hung over the vanity table chair. The early-spring chill invading the house was put to flight by the soft fabric tightened against my skin. A yawn crawled from my mouth. I pulled the curtains apart just as the streetlamp turned itself off. As the amber glow faded and the first signs of daylight rose on the horizon, there was no trace of where the lovers had stood. They had their whole lives before them. Maybe next year they’d have different partners. At least they’d have somebody. With a sigh, I looked down the avenue where they had disappeared under the elm. Make the most of it, I wanted to tell them. It doesn’t last forever.
Across the street, my lifelong friends Robbie and Jeanette kissed and headed towards their separate cars, ready for the drive to work.
‘Don’t forget to buy a card for Stella,’ Jeanette said, her voice echoing around the silent street.
Robbie looked toward my window. His reply of, ‘Thanks, love. Whatever would I do without you?’ sounded loud in the empty avenue. He stole a final kiss from her then they climbed into their cars. The clutch ground in Jeanette’s, as it always did each morning. Like clockwork! I watched her reverse into the road and wave at Robbie through her open window. As I ambled from the net curtains toward the door, a brief glance at Tom’s photograph caused my thin smile to evaporate.
Two years ago, and almost to the hour, I’d become a widow. The intervening years had felt like a post-operation haze – fuzzy; and forward movement was non-existent. As much as I needed Tom, I needed closure. Life was too bloody short to sit here moping until I was an old woman. I’d got a good few years left yet … There was nothing to lose and everything to gain.
The brochure on my bedside locker enticed me to look once again. I flicked to the page where the happy couple held each other in Naples. It was time to reawaken my desires and fulfil all the dreams I’d put on hold when I’d married Tom.
No time like the present, I told myself. Naples it is, then.
Chapter Two
I was wrist-deep in the washing-up bowl when the kitchen door swung open and Maddy strolled in, concentrating on a conversation on her iPhone. I dried her lunchbox as she sauntered past me and dropped her school bag by the dining table.
‘I’ve made your sandwiches, love.’ The typical non-response from a sulky teenager was forthcoming. I rolled my eyes and swallowed hard. ‘Maddy.’
‘What?’
‘I said I’ve made your lunch.’
‘Oh … OK.’
‘Thanks, Mum!’ I whispered to myself. I grabbed my coffee and sat opposite her at the dining table. It didn’t seem too long ago that she had been a little girl, laughing and giggling as Tom ran around the garden with her on his shoulders. Now, she’d grown into an awkward 15-year-old girl, with teenage “problems” and one parent left to sort out all the crap she threw at me every day. But I told myself she’d get through it all, and to see her standing there with furrowed brows and a sudden smile at whatever was going on in the conversation, I knew she was stronger than me. ‘Who’re you chatting with?’
‘Tasha.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What’re you talking about?’
‘Nothing much. I’m trying to concentrate.’
‘I’m only asking …’
‘Christ! Please Mum, can I just talk to Tasha?’
Tasha was my niece. She was the same age as Maddy, but they were so different. My sister Dawn and I often joked that we’d mixed up our daughters because Tasha was like me and Maddy definitely had Dawn’s fighting streak. Maybe she could stay with Tasha while I go away, I mused. I’m sure Dawn won’t mind having her for a week.
I hated the silence between us each morning. If Maddy realised how much I was hurting inside, she might have acted differently. But she was locked in her own world, dealing with things in the only way she could. And if that meant I was her sounding board, then that was OK because I didn’t have the energy to fight with her. Life was hard enough each day. So, all the second thoughts of a holiday abroad without Maddy disappeared. A lifetime’s dream with minimum stress levels, without a precocious teenager in tow, was just what I needed.
‘I’m going to the cemetery later to change the flowers,’ I told her. ‘Want to come?’
‘I’m going to school!’
‘I know … after school?’
‘No. I’m going out.’
I was about to reach out and touch her arm, but she never noticed, just picked up her bag and strolled from the kitchen.
‘See you later, love,’ I said.
‘OK,’ she shouted from the hallway. The front door slammed behind her and the walls seemed to shudder. I swallowed the last mouthful of coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste. From the kitchen sink, I looked at the darkening sky outside. I’d better get a move on before it poured down.
One of our wedding pictures hung on the far wall where I could sit during the day and look at Tom. He looked so smart in his wedding suit and I looked so young, vibrant – ready for a whole lifetime with my Mr Right. And he had been so right. I walked over to the picture and straightened it with meticulous care, just as I did with his ties and collars. I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.
‘I know you’re gone,’ I told his image, ‘but I still miss you every day.’
‘I thought I’d pop in … I’ve just been to Tom’s grave.’ Excess rain dripped from my umbrella into the storm porch as thunder rumbled in the distance. ‘What a horrible day.’
‘Are you OK, sis?’ Dawn held onto my coat as I slipped my arms out of it. Raindrops dripped and formed a little pool on the parquet floor. ‘Don’t worry about that … I’ll wipe it later.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘I was just making a coffee … d’ya want one?’
‘Yes, please.’ I followed Dawn into the kitchen and sat at the dining table. Opposite, the French windows were glazed in a veneer of
condensation and heavy rain beat against the glass. A fork of lightning lit up the kitchen for a brief moment, and we both waited for another roll of thunder. Dark skies diluted the light within her kitchen. ‘It’s getting nearer,’ I commented. ‘I bloody hate this weather.’
As Dawn made coffee, I looked through her as if she was a mirage. Even when she placed the mugs on the table and called to me, I felt as if I was somewhere else. The thought of Naples loomed in my mind; the lush, green hillside lined with beautiful rustic buildings looking down upon the blue sea in the harbour. But I’d be on my own. I sighed heavily, unaware that she was waving a hand in front of my face.
‘Stella?’
‘Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘That’s OK. Here you go.’ Dawn pushed a mug of coffee toward me. ‘This’ll warm you up.’ Cupping her hands around her own hot mug, Dawn stared at me, clearly wondering what was going on in my head. Just the touch of her hand on mine made me smile and I felt my heaviness disappear. But nobody could touch my mind and take away the layers of hurt and loneliness. Her eyes widened and her head tilted to one side in a silent plea to me to tell her how I felt.
‘I miss Tom. I know it’s been two years, but every day seems as bad as the first. Lately I’ve been feeling like there’s nothing left to live for.’ I smiled at Dawn. ‘But last night I realised there’s everything to live for. It’s taken a while, but I see it now.’
‘You should’ve told me you were feeling like that.’
‘I didn’t want to bother you.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you should’ve told me.’ She stroked my arm and gripped my hand. ‘You’re my twin. When you’re hurting, I hurt too.’
‘I need to get away somewhere … away from home. There’re too many memories here and they’re holding me back. It’s time I had a holiday.’
‘Now you’re talking. So when are you thinking of going?’
‘In the summer.’
‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Naples.’
‘Wow.’ She rolled her eyes upward and grinned. ‘You’ve got me thinking about all those dark-haired Italian men now … I won’t sleep tonight. You watch yourself … they can be really smooth talkers. Don’t be a Shirley Valentine.’
‘He was Greek.’
‘Who was?’
‘The guy who sweet-talked Shirley Valentine.’
‘Well, whatever he was, you deserve better than that, so watch yourself and don’t be taken for a mug … or else he’ll have to deal with me!’ Dawn lifted her fists and furrowed her brows to show her don’t-fuck-with-me stare. But then she laughed and her cheeks rose under her sparkling grey eyes.
‘God help them,’ I said, shaking my head as I remembered some of the hormone-charged arguments I’d endured when we were both snappy teenagers. ‘They won’t know what’s hit them.’
‘Damn right they won’t.’
‘I remember Dad saying it would take a very special man who could handle your temper, and stay around afterwards.’ Dawn regarded me with a look of playful disgust. ‘He used to call you Tyson.’
‘I never knew that. Tyson had nothing on me.’ Our laughter filled the kitchen just as blinding post-storm sunlight blazed through the windows.
‘That’s more like it. I can’t stand the rain.’ I shivered as warmth invaded the kitchen. ‘I’m a sun worshipper.’
‘So why Naples?’
‘I want to visit some museums and appreciate the arts … see what I’ve missed. I never had the chance before and I’m going to make up for lost time.’
‘Enjoy yourself … God knows you deserve it!’
‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I tossed and turned while thinking about Tom. But I need to move on … I hate being alone. I still have needs and desires.’ I stared at the steam rising from the hot coffee and watched my knuckles whiten as I wrapped my hands around the mug. ‘I don’t want to be alone any more. I need somebody to share my life with. Maybe I wasn’t ready before, but I have desires …’ I looked across at Dawn, hoping she wouldn’t see my new venture as a betrayal toward Tom.
‘I understand. It’s a perfectly natural way to feel.’
‘Apart from Tom, I’ve never – you know – done it with anyone else. I’m scared.’
‘Aw, there’s nothing to worry about. Jesus, you’ve had enough experience. That’s always been your problem; you’re too repressed. Get out there and shake your booty, sis. Seriously, when you’ve made yourself up, you look bloody hot.’
‘It’s just the thought of doing it with someone else that frightens me.’
‘It. Don’t be so bloody stupid! It’s sex. It isn’t supposed to be cold … Just go with the flow. Let yourself go … like a wild animal.’
‘I want somebody like Tom.’
‘But Stella, he was so laid back, he was practically horizontal.’
‘He made me feel good.’
‘I’m sure he did, but did you ever have that angry sex? You know, the moment right after an argument when you’re both ready to rip each other to shreds?’
‘But we never argued.’
‘Exactly! Jesus, you’d better hook one of those Italian men after all. Get him all agitated … Tell him you want it right where you are … in the middle of the bloody traffic.’
‘I’m visiting museums, not a male strip show. I’ll probably meet tourists and loopy professors with bad haircuts and bow ties.’
‘That’s what I want to see … your humour. I love the way your cheeks lift when you smile. You’re beautiful, Stella. I can’t see any reason why they won’t be falling at your knees and begging for you.’ She paused and lifted her eyebrows to emphasise her wide eyes. ‘That’s only going to happen if you let them. It’s time to open up, have fun, and be a little more trusting. It won’t kill you.’
I shrugged my shoulders. I knew she was right. It was a trait of mine to hold people at bay. ‘Well, I need to get there first and then I’ll see what happens. Can I ask you a big favour?’
‘Sure … fire away.’
‘Can I leave Maddy here? She’ll be good company for Tasha. I just need to do this on my own.’
‘Sure. Is Maddy OK with that?’
‘I haven’t told her yet, but she won’t want to be alone with me. You know how it is, don’t you?’
‘I sure do.’ Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Maddy will be fine, Stella. Tasha doesn’t speak much these days. When she does, it’s with monosyllabic grunts.’
‘Thanks, Dawn. I owe you.’
‘No problem. Enjoy yourself. That’s settled, then.’ She looked at my dark blue blouse peeping through the thick woollen cardigan. A grimace replaced her smile and she said, ‘We’ll need to do some serious shopping. You’re gonna need a new wardrobe. Let’s show those Italian women that we English birds are just as classy. Sorry, sis –’ she tugged at my cardie ‘– but you’re representing us over there.’ Dawn kissed me again.
‘No pressure, then!’
‘Are you ready for some retail therapy?’
‘I’m a woman … I was born to shop.’
‘You should get your hair done too … something that’ll show off your lovely blue eyes.’ Dawn shaped my hair in her upturned palms. ‘How about getting it cut short?’
In my compact mirror, I could see that a short style made the most of my neck, but with long hair, I could always bunch it into a chignon. ‘I’ll have it styled but not cut.’
‘It’s your hair!’
‘I know it is.’
‘Clothes first, though. It’s not going to take much to make you look like a princess.’
‘Under all this make-up, I’m looking old. My eyes have more rings than Saturn.’
‘Why not treat yourself to an Indian head massage? I had one last year. Mark never knew what hit him!’ Dawn winked. ‘I was like a wild animal for weeks. I’ve never seen him so tired!’
‘I may give it a go.’
‘Not may, you will. Repeat after me … I wil
l have a massage.’
‘OK, OK. Whatever you think’s best.’
‘You won’t regret it, sis … trust me. It’ll make you feel like a new woman. Those Italian men won’t be able to keep their hands off you.’ I saw her eyes in the compact mirror, cajoling and understanding me. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Chapter Three
Hushed whispers and footsteps echoed through the Museo di Napoli corridor. The warmth of the afternoon sun blazed on my shoulders and a clammy sheen covered my skin because of the humidity. My hair was up in a chignon, and the mid-length summer dress exposed my upper back and shoulders. But in the shadows, the cold stonework left a chill on my body. Through the thin fabric, my nipples protruded. Since arriving in Naples, I’d acquired a warm sienna suntan, contrasting with the white marble statue of Venus standing just in front of me.
Within the still air of the mid-afternoon siesta, I followed Venus’ plaited hair, pulled backwards and bunched from the forehead to reveal her slender neck. A diadem laced with a string of pearls crowned her forehead, forcing my attention on her cool, oval face dominated by her slanted eyes, looking downward toward a conquered lover. Her pursed lips oozed sexuality.
Slowly, my focus dipped over the sloping shoulder of the statue’s right arm, half-covering her breast. From somewhere deep within, I fluttered from an irresistible urge to be embraced within her arms, to feel the cold marble against my hot back. I shuddered and cast my eyes down to her semi-naked hips and the pleated fabric that half covered her sexuality. As clouds blocked the sun, a chill ran through me.
Vibrations from my mobile phone roused me from my musing state. Dawn’s name flashed underneath the envelope icon. As much as I loved her, I wanted to be left in peace. I opened up the message and read:
Just checking that you’re OK. Met any nice men yet? LOL. X.
