Maximum Effort

by Vincent Formosa

  He was glad they had picked York. He loved the city, the wonderful mix of new and old, the feeling of history that surrounded the place. Everyone had been through York, the Romans, Vikings and he had loved having an explore when he was younger on day trips from Harrogate.

  Georgette moved off again and pulled on his arm as she led the way down some steps back to street level. They walked into town until they found a pub they liked. The Royal Oak was an old fashioned building that breathed history from every pore. Built in the 14th Century, it had low ceilings, small windows and a cosy feel about the place when they went inside.

  Carter commandeered a small table near the front so he could look out the windows and watch the world go by. Getting round to tea time, there were a lot of people on the street and uniforms were everywhere. As much as Lincoln was 5 Group’s preserve, York was the destination for 1 and 4 Group. The surrounding countryside was dotted with airfields where their Wellingtons and Halifaxes operated from.

  He felt odd wearing a suit. He’d even had to borrow a fedora from Saunderson to go with his brown three piece suit and brown shoes. It had been the first time in a year he had worn anything other than his uniform and he felt quite self conscious when everyone else was wandering around in RAF blue. Georgette had no such qualms and had willingly ditched her uniform as soon as she had left Group HQ and got back to her digs. She had met him in a white and blue knee length floral print dress and tan coat. Her dark hair was curled up and a blue hat was pinned in place.

  They had one drink each and then moved on to the next place, another small pub before turning their thoughts to dinner. After the walk, Carters stomach was grumbling and not finding a restaurant to their liking they went back to their hotel by the train station. Spoiled by the food at The Madison, it was a bit of a letdown. The chicken pie was actually pretty good but the potatoes and cabbage were just bland, boiled to within an inch of their life and the thin gravy was like dishwater.

  Georgette talked throughout dinner and Carter was content to listen, loving the sound of her voice. After months of living with men, it made a pleasant change to devote his attention to one woman. She told him about going shopping with Helen Wilkinson around Grantham. They had grown close in the intervening weeks and Georgette almost regarded the younger woman as another sister.

  Helen bought a few things for the baby but wasn’t in the mood to buy a dress for herself. So close to her due date, she felt like a beached whale and there was no point buying something now when she was only going to lose the baby weight later. She still harboured hopes she would be able to fit into her old things given enough time.

  After three shops they retired to a tea room and gossipped like they had known each other for years. Carter was pleased Georgette had given up one of her valuable days off to take Helen out.

  They retired after dinner to the lounge with a pot of tea and a pack of cards. They took up residence at a card table and started playing Gin Rummy. Carter was amused to find Georgette took it quite seriously and she had a killer instinct at finishing him off. She took the first three games before he won one back. They tried draughts but got bored so went back to Rummy where she thrashed him again. He watched as she deftly shuffled the cards, riffling the pack, tongue clamped between her teeth in concentration.

  “We used to play this all the time,” she told him. Every year their father took them to the Lake District for a week in the country and it always rained. She remembered the family holidays when they played Hearts and Gin Rummy in the evenings while the rain hammered off the windows outside. Why her father favoured the Lake District was a mystery, but she and her sisters had to occupy themselves for hours when the weather stopped them going outside.

  She dealt another round. Carter nearly beat her, but Georgette got the ten she was waiting for first and called ‘Gin’, laying her hand on the green felt. Carter sighed. He’d needed one more nine.

  “I surrender,” he said. He sipped his tea and watched as she gathered the cards in and shoved them back into their box. She leaned back in her chair and looked at him with hooded eyes.

  “Now what?” she asked him.

  Carter wasn’t sure. Well, this wasn’t strictly true, he knew what he wanted to do, but now the moment was close, he was growing shy like some virgin teenager that had no idea what went where.

  He made enquiries at the front desk but discovered there were no dances that evening that the receptionist was aware of. The cinema would have started already and he didn’t want to go back out to a pub. Kneeling down at the radio, he was just about to turn it on when Georgette suggested they retire to their room. There was that awkward silence that seemed to last forever. Carter’s brain was stuck in neutral. She smiled, her cheeks dimpling as she got up.

  “I’m going to change,” she announced, hand resting on the door handle, her cheek resting against the door. “I’ve been wearing this all day and I want to relax.”

  Carter didn’t even get to a count of five before he followed after her.

  Built as a flagship for the North Eastern Railway Company the hotel interior was quite grand with over one hundred rooms spread over five floors. The corridors were wide and the ceilings were high. This extended to the rooms and they had been given a generous sized suite on the corner of the third floor. Georgette giggled as she turned the key in the door. Carter had signed them in as Mr and Mrs.

  A bay window looked out over the the grounds and showed the traffic that went past the busy train station. In the distance they could hear the sound of shunting trains. A large double bed had a low backed sofa at the end of it. To the right of the door was a writing table and chair. On the other side of the bed was a door that led through to an adjoining room. Carter made sure the corresponding door on the other side was shut before closing theirs and locking it.

  He shrugged off his suit jacket and waistcoat and draped them over the chair. With the blackout curtains drawn, it was gloomy and Georgette turned on a standard lamp in the corner. The room was warm and cosy, decorated in dark creams. The bed had a dark red blanket across it as a splash of colour.

  Georgette flopped onto the sofa at the end of the bed and flung out her arms. She took off her shoes and stretched her legs out in front of her, wiggling her toes.

  “Phew, that’s better.”

  She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling before closing her eyes. She remained like that for a few moments before bringing her head back up. She peeped through one eye and smiled. Carter sat opposite her and she patted the open space on the sofa by her side. “I don’t bite.”

  That broke the spell. Carter laughed and crossed the distance between them. He leaned in and kissed her, remembering the summer house in the grounds of the hotel. Her hands came up to his face before moving down to his neck and shoulders, touching, stroking. Her perfume filled his nostrils and he encircled her in his arms, holding her close.

  She pulled at his tie, working it left and right, loosening the knot until she could pull it off. She started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

  “God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, eyes closed.

  She laughed, grinning against his teeth. Her tongue darted out, tracing around the inside of his lips. She grabbed one of his hands and guided it down over her breast. Her breath came in short huffs as his hand worked back and forth, rubbing rhythmically.

  His other hand walked up her leg, pushing the dress up past her knee. He ran along her thigh, thrilling to the feel of the stocking and her smooth leg. His fingers played with the top of her stocking, searching for the suspender catch. He found it and tried to release it but it wouldn’t give and he pulled at it, trying to tease it.

  Georgette chuckled, a deep throaty laugh full of promises. She moved his hand out of the way and he sat back for a moment, watching as she gripped the catch between thumb and forefinger and released it with a deft flick. She made it seem all so easy. She stood up and lifted her dress, feeling round to the back of her leg and relea
sing the other catch. She did the same to the other leg and sat next to him. She stuck out her left leg and rolled the stocking down over her knee, towards her ankle. She took her time and Carter watched silently, his pulse pounding in his ears.

  He reached for her and she twisted out of his grasp, laughing. She tossed the stocking at him and it lazily fell to the floor, forgotten as he chased after her. She got to the bay window before he caught her in his arms. She stood on tip toe and kissed him again, working her way down from his chin, his neck to his chest. She sighed and rested her face against him, her hair tickling his skin.

  She hummed softly to herself, a few bars of something Carter didn’t recognise. He held her close and they slowly rocked left and right, circling round in a slow dance.

  She went over to the bed and shrugged out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Carter stood transfixed, his blood stirring at the sight of her. Her skin was pale, unblemished and she wore blue silk underwear trimmed in black. Even the ribbon in her hair matched. She slid under the covers, her dark hair a fan of black on the white pillowcases.

  He shed his own clothes, kicking off his shoes and dropping his shirt and trousers as he advanced on the bed. He got under the covers and she came up fighting, kissing him, her hands pressing on his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. She got on top of him, her legs straddling either side of his waist. She groaned as she ground her hips down against him, back and forth, rubbing.

  He gasped as she took the lead. His hands moved up her sides, feeling the line of her ribs and slid round her back, undoing the catch to her bra. It fell loose and she moved her arms to get clear of the straps and threw it across the room. Neither of them noticed where it ended up. Her breasts pressed against him, her skin warm and soft and smooth.

  Her right hand worked down, nails teasing as she felt for the top of his underwear. She worked her hand inside and he gasped as she found what she was looking for and stroked, rubbing up and down. He groaned, finding it difficult to contain himself as she guided him in.

  Their lovemaking was frantic that first time. Months of pent up need and desire was spent in a rush of passion. They had a rest for ten minutes and then began again, slower this time, exploring each other. Carter was going to get up to turn the lamp off in the corner but she put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

  “No,” she whispered, “I want to see you.”

  His lips found hers and they lay next to each other, legs entwined, sweat cooling on their skin.

  “This is much better than that summer house,” he murmured. She laughed.

  “Maybe, but it was murder having to wait.”

  “I know.” His face pinched in concentration. “I just wanted the first time to be;” he paused as he hunted for the right word.

  “Perfect?” she finished for him.

  “No, not perfect, just…” words failed him. His fingers made wide circles over her stomach, down to the curve of her pelvis and back up to her breasts. He teased one nipple, rubbing the areola gently. “I just didn’t want it to be some clinch in the dark.” He frowned, knowing he was making a terrible job of expressing himself.

  “Are you trying to protect me?” she asked in mock horror.

  “No. Goodgie, I just-” she put her finger to his lips.

  “I know. You don’t need to explain Alex. I know.”

  She giggled and lay across him, resting her face on his chest, listening to the regular metronome of his heartbeat. He kissed the top of her head and felt foolish. She smiled and closed her eyes and sighed. At that exact moment, all was right in the world. Nothing existed beyond the four walls of their room, no war, no loss, no heartache or pain.

  She stroked up the left side of his ribcage and felt some rough skin. She stroked some more and could feel patches of smooth skin with ridges of scar tissue. She hitched over slightly and peered at it up close. His left side and the inside of his arm were similarly marked, dotted with patches of pink right down to his thigh.

  “Flak,” he told her. “I picked up these souvenirs on my European vacation a year ago.”

  He’d been half way through his first tour at the time. A flak burst had gone off close on the port side. Shrapnel had bounced off the canopy like rain and torn into the skin of the fuselage. He’d fought to keep the Hampden straight and level and then the pain had hit him. It had felt like someone had repeatedly stabbed him in the side with a red hot poker. The doctors had picked out twenty pieces of rubbish when he got home and sown him back up again. She hunted them out, kissing each mark gently. Insistent hands made him roll on to his side and she traced them with her fingers.

  “Is that where you got that?” She asked, pointing at the scar on his cheek.

  He scratched at it and nodded. She placed little kisses up and down his face.

  “Steady on, old girl.”

  “Old?” she said in mock protest.

  “You’ve been married,” he told her, his face the model of innocence. She playfully slapped his arm.

  “So I’m an old maid am I?” She picked up one of the pillows and swiped him with it. He held up his hands in defence.

  “Ow, the chin, the neck,” he warned her between laughs and gasps for mercy. She dropped the pillow and hugged him, kissing his chin.

  “Oh darling, I’m so sorry.”

  “Got you,” he grinned. His eyes glinted as he grabbed her and tickled her sides. She doubled up, clutching her stomach and rolled into a ball, laughing, begging him to stop. He rocked back on his heels and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I got you,” he said.

  She almost growled as she unwound and lay on her back and they swapped places, with him on top. She could feel him stiffening again and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in.

  Later, they lay together in the dark. She was welded to his side, her leg draped over his, one arm flung across his chest. His left arm was folded behind his head, propping him up. He listened to her steady breathing and the noises outside coming from the train station. There was a shrill whistle and then the steady, huff, huff as another train pulled away from the platform. He was wide awake, his brain firing on all cylinders.

  The intensity of their love making had surprised him. Her touch, the feel of her skin, her perfume, the way she moved under him, responding to him, the movement of her hips. Every sensation and movement had been burned into his brain. It had never been like this with Mary.

  She stirred, and he shushed her, kissing the top of her head, his thumb stroking her neck. She shifted position slightly and then awoke, her eyes blinking as she took in her surroundings.

  “Hey,” she whispered. She rolled off him and lay next to him on the bed. She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dark. “What time is it?” He moved his hand from behind his head and looked at the glowing dial of his watch.

  “Nearly eleven. It’s still early.”

  “Huh, early for you,” she breathed, her voice sleepy. She was in that fuzzy drowsy place where your brain was wrapped in cotton wool and everything was slow and you were not quite awake.

  “True,” he agreed. “It’s a good thing I’m a night owl with the job I have.”

  “Well it’s late for me.” She rolled over and he moved up behind her. She backed into him, a perfect fit, his legs tucking underneath hers and his arm cuddling her around the waist.

  They woke naturally around nine. Neither of them had set an alarm or asked for a wake up call from reception. Georgette woke up first shivering. She was cold and found that at some time during the night Carter had rolled over and dragged the covers with him. She sat up and dug him in the ribs. He grunted and waved a hand in the air. She dug him in the side again and then pulled on the blanket until she had enough to cover her.

  “Greedy boy,” she said, her tone light and teasing. He opened one eye and glanced to his right. He moved quickly, his hands reaching out, tickling her. She squealed in surprise and shot out of bed like a rabbit darting out of the bushes. She threw a hair brush at him and scrabble
d amongst her open suitcase, looking for something to put on. Carter admired the view from the bed and could feel his blood stirring at the sight of her.

  She twirled a finger at him and told him to turn around. He sighed theatrically and did as he was told and as soon as he did so, she leapt on him, hands racing to find his sensitive spot. She found it and he laughed, big deep belly laughs as her hair tickled around his neck. Leaving him gasping for air she slid off the bed and put on the robe hanging off the back of the door. Laughing, she flopped onto one of the armchairs.

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning, darling.” He rubbed his neck. It still hurt but wasn’t as stiff as it had been yesterday. He had one of the painkillers the doctor had given him and drank from the glass of water by the bed. He lay back down and sighed, willing the throbbing pain to die down.

  “Breakfast in bed, or shall we get dressed and go downstairs?” she asked him.

  “Whichever you prefer,” he told her as he yawned and stretched. She pondered the choices.

  “I think downstairs. If we have breakfast up here we’ll never do anything today and I’d like to get out and about before this afternoon.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” he protested, dropping his voice to a husky undertone.

  “Tempting.” She threw a shirt from his case at him. “Come on. You can treat me to lunch.”

  They went for a walk along the river. Barges ferrying coal chugged up and down and they sat on a bench for a while watching them. Some of the local wildlife came over to inspect them and Carter fed them bits of bread roll he’d bought from the tea room at the train station.

  They went into the city and spent an hour poking around some of the shops. Georgette bought some brown leather gloves. The ones she had been issued with were too big and she had been on the lookout for another pair that suited her for quite a while.