He collapsed. “Why didn’t you let me take your head away?”
“Because I didn’t want my head taken away.” She raised herself up the bed and snuggled against him. He placed an arm around her. She didn’t think she had ever seen him quite so content as he was now. She said, “Nancy said that would be the best BJ you’d ever had.”
“Nancy knows what she’s talking about.” His face glowed and his eyes sparkled.
They lay like that for the longest time. And then Baptiste said, “Your ass is clean, too.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Lie on your front, my angel. You can dish it out; let’s see if you can take it.”
‘Seeing if she could take it’ meant the same sort of licking her ass as she had done to him, followed by a lubricated finger inserted into her derriere. Charlene might have thought this a little unfair, since his finger was quite a lot longer than hers, but she wasn’t thinking about fairness; she was thinking that she had never in her life experienced anything quite so delightful, and wondering what other little secrets Nancy might be in possession of.
She was vaguely aware of his heavy breathing as his body hovered over hers. Clutching the sheets with her fingers, her body screaming with pleasure, she lost herself completely to the intensity of it all.
And then she was on her back, and the finger was still in place, and his tongue was deep inside her vulva. She arched her back, moaning, “Ooohhh, god...” His tongue explored her slit, rubbing, sending electrical sensations throughout while his thumb pierced agonizingly from behind. Finally, he sucked her clit into his mouth and held it between his teeth, sending shock-wave after glorious shockwave throughout her body. She was in the grip of an orgasm so total, so volcanic, that she felt as though her soul was being ripped from her body and flung into the vastness of space.
And then it was over. Neither of them said a word. They slept almost immediately. When they awoke, the sun was high in the sky. Baptiste looked at his watch. “Ohmygod. Listen, honey, I have to go, I have things I need to do this morning. You need to get up, too. Your aunt will be here in half an hour.”
Charlene gave him what she thought of as her demure look. “Shall we shower together?”
“No, you little minx! I’ll shower. And then you can shower. Doing it together will have to wait till another time.”
“But we will?”
“Oh, Charlene, my darling, I promise you: we will.”
Chapter 6
Aunt May’s visit that morning was as short as she and Charlene had both known it must be. Hugs and tears and apologies for not having stayed in touch were followed by Charlene pulling her aunt into the kitchen, sitting her down and pouring her coffee. May said, “I know you have to leave at noon. And I know you can’t have been up long. Really, I just wanted to say hi.”
“Baptiste said he suggested you come for dinner tomorrow.” She set Aunt May’s cup in front of her.
“I’d really love to, Charlene, if you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
“Of course, you won’t be in the way. You’re all the family I have.” She smiled. “Would you like to bring Michael Rooney with you?”
“Once again, if you’re sure...” May took a sip of her coffee.
“Aunt May. There is no question of being in the way. And I’d like to hear a little history. Baptiste thought there might have been something between you and Michael Rooney. When you were younger.” Charlene’s eyes twinkled.
“We were more than good friends.” Her eyes sparked with the memory.
“Well, that’s great.” Charlene leaned toward her, concerned. “When Mom died, you weren’t well. How are you now?”
“I had cancer. They think they got it all. Maybe they’re right.” She gave a little shrug.
“Oh, Aunt May!” Charlene gasped.
“Yes, well, there’s no point in getting upset about it. There’s only one way out of this life. Of course, we all hope our exit will be painless. For some people, it is. Never mind about me. It’s been a long life – I was ten years older than your mother, for heaven’s sake – and I’ve had more good bits than bad. Which is all I think anyone has the right to ask for. Tomorrow. I’d like to spend a bit of time with you, if I can. Just the two of us?” Her eyes glistened as she looked at her niece.
“Sure. Come at two. We’ll have about three hours then, before Baptiste gets home. But what about Michael?”
“He can come on his own later. We’ll have a good old talk, you and me.” They hugged good-bye.
NEXT DAY, WHEN CHARLENE woke up, she turned onto her side and found herself staring into a pair of deep brown eyes. “Baptiste! You’re still here.”
“I don’t need to go out for a couple hours yet. Probably, I won’t be back till about six.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
“That’s okay. Aunt May and Michael Rooney will be here, but I’m not planning to eat until round about seven. That suit you?”
“That’ll be fine.” He caressed her hair, bending to kiss her lightly, his teeth nipping at her lip.
She stretched languorously. “And now? I mean, right now?”
The brown eyes smiled. “What did you have in mind?”
“A long, slow, languorous fuck. Since you ask.” Smiling wickedly, she reached up to run her fingers through his thick, black hair.
He tilted his head back, looing at her from the corner of his eye. “I see. Anyone you’d particularly like to have it with?”
“Well... Since you’re here...”
He placed a hand on her belly.
“And now that you’ve done that,” she said, “I realize that, first, I’d better run to the bathroom.” She kissed him on the lips. “Don’t start without me.”
When she came back and climbed into bed beside him, she asked, “Did you study much Shakespeare at school?”
“I’m sure we did. But I didn’t take any notice.” A smile danced on his lips.
Charlene laughed. “No, he wasn’t too popular with the boys at our school, either.”
“Charlene, I didn’t take much notice of anything at school.” He gave her a puppy-dog look.
“Well. Never mind that. One of the plays we read was Hamlet. And there’s a character – a woman – in Hamlet called Ophelia. And there was a line in Hamlet – a stage direction, something to tell the actors what to do – that always made me smile. It said, ‘Enter Ophelia from behind.’ What Shakespeare meant was that Ophelia comes onto the stage from the back.”
“Yes, Charlene, I understood that. I said I took no notice of Shakespeare at school. I didn’t say I was an idiot.”
“No. Well. The reason ‘Enter Ophelia from behind’ always made me smile was because I thought it could mean something completely different from that.”
“You know, I think I’m probably there with you.”
“So when I said that what I’d like was a long, slow, languorous fuck, I think I might have changed my mind.”
“Yes? What do you think you’d like instead?”
“I’d like to be Ophelia. When we staged the play at school, all the girls wanted to be Ophelia, and I wasn’t chosen. But now I can choose myself.”
“Okay, Ophelia. And what would you like me to do?”
“I’d like you to enter me from behind?” She raised her eye-brows, looking at him coyly.
“My darling Ophelia, I cannot think right now of anything I’d rather do. Why don’t you kneel up?”
“Not quite as fast as that, my love. I need to get into my costume.”
“Costume?”
Charlene went to the drawer where she kept reminders of her younger days. Days without Baptiste. When she came back to bed, she was wearing a long white nightdress in broderie anglaise. “What do you think?” And then she looked down at where Baptiste’s penis was rising like the periscope of a surfacing submarine. “Actually, my darling, you don’t need to answer that. I can see exactly what you think.” And she knelt on the bed, leaned forward to take her weight on her elb
ows, and left the rest to him.
When it was over, she was not dissatisfied.
After breakfast, Charlene went out and bought meat and vegetables for the evening’s dinner. She had brought home from the restaurant some herbs and spices that the chef had given her so that she could turn raw materials that had not cost a great deal into a meal that those who ate it would remember for a long time. Or that was the plan – Charlene knew that she was a passable cook for normal purposes but always felt a little nervous about events like this. She didn’t buy any alcohol, partly because that was usually Baptiste’s job, partly because she didn’t have a great deal of spare money, and partly because Aunt May had said that she would bring two bottles of wine.
She hoped it was going to be a pleasant evening for the visitors, but most of all she hoped that Baptiste would enjoy it. She wanted to think of them as partners. Since they’d had that conversation, though, about condoms and assumptions, she knew that they didn’t really have a partnership. They were in a relationship that she wanted to hold onto and that she fervently hoped would grow into something more. So far, she had kept the promise she had made to herself to put no pressure on Baptiste. Did Baptiste also hope that their relationship would grow into more? She wanted to believe it.
She got home in time to make a quick lunch before starting work on dinner. She didn’t want to be spending the whole afternoon in the kitchen; she wanted to be able to give Aunt May a proper amount of time and attention.
And that was another thing. ‘She got home.’ Was it really her home? Well, it was where she lived. And it was certainly Baptiste’s home, and he had the paperwork to say so. And she lived with Baptiste. So... And there it was again. That whole line of thinking she didn’t want to go through. She would blank it from her mind.
Nancy wasn’t the only person at the restaurant that Charlene took advice from, and sex was not the only subject. She had talked several times to the chef about things he did to make an ordinary cut of meat or piece of fish look and taste exceptional. She did so again that evening.
When May arrived, the bulk of the work on preparing dinner had been done. The meat was in a pot with the spices and herbs. The vegetables were in other pots, ready to be cooked. She welcomed May, and took her and the two bottles of wine she had brought into the kitchen. “Wine! Tea? Water? Juice?”
“Wine would be lovely, dear.”
They settled down in the sitting room, one on one sofa and the other on another, to talk. May said, “My goodness. I was thinking about this earlier today. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen you since you were nine years old. Isn’t that amazing? You had pigtails, and you used to ride that bike all over the place. Your mother and I were frightened for you.”
“She never said anything.”
“No, I know. She didn’t want to put a rein on you. There are enough limits on what a girl is supposed to do, without her own mother imposing more. And she was glad – we were both glad – to see how much courage you had. It’s always been a man’s world, Charlene, and although it’s getting better it still is that way. A girl with courage has more chance of breaking out than a girl who’s always been told, ‘Don’t do this,’ and ‘You mustn’t do that.” She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head a little. Then, looked back at Charlene. “Tell me about your work.”
And so Charlene did, including mention of her good friend Nancy but without any hint of the specialist areas of advice that Nancy brought to the friendship.
“And the chef? Is he good? And is he a friend?”
“You’ll be able to put how good he is to the test this evening, because I’ve prepared dinner according to his instructions using some ingredients he gave me.” Charlene held up her crossed fingers, chuckling a little.
“That will be wonderful. And Baptiste. He refused to tell me how he’d met you. I suspect that may have been because it was to his credit.” She looked at Charlene inquiringly.
“It was. I was being hit on by four men. They wanted... Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what they wanted.”
“Swine. When your mother and I were young, men thought that we were somehow there for their pleasure. Men would think they had the right to touch you, in places you didn’t want to be touched.” Her nostrils flared and she raised her chin high.
Charlene smiled. “In church, you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Charlene. On the ass. On the... Here.” She put her hand on her bosom. “I had nice tits once. I believed they should be touched by people I wanted them touched by and every other man should leave them alone. A lot of men didn’t agree. You’d be manhandled. Fondled. Just walking down the street. And if you complained, you were told, ‘Oh, that’s just how it is. They’re men. They’re just having a bit of fun. Ignore them.’ How can you ignore someone who’s got his hand there? I have to say, I think it’s a lot better now, and that’s not just because I’m too old for anyone to want to grab me by the boobies. I think it’s better now for young women than it was in my day. But there are still some men who... Well. Like those four who... So Baptiste came to your rescue?”
“He did. And, before you ask, he didn’t expect anything in return. He took me back to the place I was renting. We collected my stuff. Then he took me to his sister’s apartment. She had a spare room and I stayed there. For quite a while. In the end, I had to put a move on him. He obviously wasn’t going to take the lead.”
“A gentleman.” She made a hasty shake of her head.
“I guess so.”
“And the future? Will I be getting a wedding invitation any time soon?” Aunt May’s eyes gleamed as she looked lovingly upon her niece.
“Oh... Aunt May, would you mind not talking about anything like that while Baptiste is here?” Charlene leaned forward, looking at her with feverish eyes.
“It’s that way, is it? You can rely on me, sweetheart. I won’t stick my nose in at all. This conversation is just between you and me. But I’d like to know a bit more, if I may?”
Charlene waited, not knowing what questions might be coming.
Aunt May looked around, taking in the modern appliances, tasteful art, the expensive furniture. “Do the pair of you rent this place?”
Charlene shook her head. “No! It isn’t rented! It belongs to Baptiste. Well, Baptiste and the bank. And, right now, the bank probably owns more of it than Baptiste does. But, one day, the loan will be repaid, and it will be Baptiste’s.”
Aunt May pursed her lips in thought. “Baptiste’s. Not yours and Baptiste’s?”
Charlene breathed deeply. Her jaw went slack. “Not unless we... No, Aunt.”
Pressing her lips into a fine line, she looked hard at Charlene. “Look, let’s not say anything else about this right now. I had planned to go home tomorrow. But I’ve been talking to Michael, and we’d both be happy for me to stay an extra day or two. Well, Michael would like me to stay forever.”
“You’re not tempted?” Charlene’s mouth twitched.
“No. As I told Baptiste yesterday, California is my home now. I don’t want to move away at this stage of my life. And I suggested to Michael that he might move down to be with me, but he’s no keener than I am on that sort of upheaval. I think he might stay with me a while. In fact, I’ve suggested that he fly back with me. Just for a week or two, you understand. Just to see how it might work out between us. After all, we were an item fifty years ago. For whatever reason, we didn’t make a permanent thing of it then, so how likely is it that we would now? Anyway, he can’t go anywhere for the next three days, so I’m sticking around for some extra time. Let’s have this evening, and enjoy ourselves, and then maybe you and I could have a chat tomorrow morning, or the next morning, while Baptiste isn’t here. What does he do, by the way? What’s his job?”
Charlene looked sheepish. “Well, that’s another question – I mean, you don’t need to avoid it, you can ask him, but the answer you get may seem a little evasive.”
“Because . . .?” Her forehead pucke
red, and her dark eyes bored into her niece.
A flush crept up Charlene’s face. “I know what it is he does, but he didn’t tell me and he doesn’t know I know. But it’s legal, I promise you that. And it’s a good job. He has enough coming in to pay the bank, and to take us both out when we feel like it.”
“And to buy groceries?”
“Well, no. I do that. Out of what I earn as a waitress.”
“Right. And do you pay anything towards the house?”
“No, Auntie. I have offered, but Baptiste won’t hear of it. He won’t take a cent from me towards the house.”
“Right. I see.”
Chapter 7
Dinner was a great success. Everybody said so, and Charlene knew that they meant it. They weren’t simply saying it for the sake of her feelings. She would have to tell the chef the next day how well his suggested meal had gone down.
The wine was good, too. And the conversation. For about two hours, Aunt May and Michael Rooney had entertained them with stories of how it had been before Charlene and Baptiste were even born. Charlene learned some very interesting things about her mother; things that she wished she had known while her mother was still alive, so that she could have teased her. As Aunt May said, life changed as you got older. You wanted different things.
Michael Rooney said, “You place greater emphasis on security. I mean financial security. When we were young, we didn’t care about having money. When we got older, we realized how important it is.” He looked around. “Are you buying this place, or do you rent it?”
He was looking at Charlene when he asked the question, but she hesitated and it was Baptiste who answered. “We are buying it.”
And then the conversation had gone on to other things. How much Charlene enjoyed being a waitress. What holidays anyone had planned for the next twelve months, and how much Charlene and Baptiste saw of Baptiste’s sister.
“Family is important,” said Aunt May. “You don’t necessarily understand that fully as young adults, but it becomes clear later in life.”
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