by Penny Dixon
‘I’m not going to have sex with you.’
No not just today, ever.
I don’t know what to say after that. I feel like I’ve lead him on, like he’ll think I’m some kind of cock tease. I feel stupid. I can’t tell him why I’ve changed my mind without telling him the whole story, and I’m not about to do that.
I’m so wrapped up in what a fool I’ve been that I don’t notice how close he is till I feel his lips resting on mine. I don’t move. His breath’s warm and soothing. Spearmint flavour from his gum bathes my tongue, flows over my teeth to the back of my throat and streams into my lungs. He’s a part of me. For a while I can’t feel where I end and he begins.
I wait for him to kiss me. He doesn’t, just breathes with me. It feels like he’s giving me the space I’m craving from Richard. He knows what I need and I haven’t had to tell him.
I kiss him. I want it to say ‘thank you’ but, as he folds his arms around me, I develop an irrational obsession with the hand brake and the car rolling into the sea.
‘Let’s go onto the back seat,’ I suggest.
I can’t work out why he has a spare set of clothes, but when he explains I’m, quite frankly, relieved that he has an appointment.
I’m surprised how much I’m able to relax knowing that he’ll have to go in a few hours. I want to spend some time with Celia tonight, get her to help me make sense of what I’m feeling for Richard and what I’m doing with Grant. I’m happy telling him about things that don’t really matter; safe things about what I do at home, about my friends and our haunts. Then somehow, maybe because he’s made me feel safe again, I find myself telling him about the conversation I’ve just had with Richard, that I can’t really be giving my marriage a chance if I hook up with him. I feel he understands and is accepting my situation when he asks, ‘Do you like me?’
‘Of course I like you.’
‘Do you want me?’
I’m not prepared for that, and I’m certainly not prepared for my answer which flies out before it’s fully formed in my head.
‘More than you’ll ever know.’
He kisses me. My voice of reason put up a brief protest before it’s drowned out by the screams of the desire that’s built up in the quiet of his car, that’s seeped into me as I lay with my head in his lap.
There’s a lot of kissing, a lot of touching, stroking, groping; a lot of manoeuvring. All I’m listening to is the voice of desire, I’ve turned the volume right down on reason, on logic, on sanity. It’s a pity I didn’t do the same for the volume on my phone. I hear a text come through. I’ve agreed with Celia that she’ll text me when she’s ready to leave work to check where I am and arrange to meet up. I find the phone, it’s her. She’s finished, where am I? I’m trying to reply when I feel Grant’s tongue on my clitoris. I drop the phone just as I hit the send button.
I love what I’m feeling. It’s been such a long time since anyone’s done this to me. His tongue smooth and flat one moment, the next pointed, going deep into me, then back to sucking, his cheeks gently rubbing the sides. He focuses his tongue on the tip of my clit, doing with his tongue what he did with his finger in the sea. It feels like my whole being is centred in that tiny spot. It feels like every thought I’ve ever had, every meal I’ve ever eaten, every fight I’ve ever won, every race I’ve ever run, every love I’d ever loved, every… every… every. ‘Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God!’ I hear my voice high pitched and loud but I can’t stop. He’s flicking his tongue faster and faster. I lose sense of time, sense of place, sense of self. All I know is there’s a geyser bubbling inside me that’s about to blow – and when it does, every hair on my body stands to attention, trapping layers of heat all round me, intensifying the feeling in every pore. I lay on his back seat, spent as a dry river, open like a banana split.
His mouth’s still covered in my juice as I kiss him. ‘Do you want to do it?’ He’s very hopeful. Now I’ve been satiated, reason has returned. I don’t want to have sex with him in the back of his car but I do want to satisfy him too. I loosen his shorts and prize out his rod. As I bend to his rigid, expectant cock, I have to make a conscious effort to push all images of Richard out of my head. This is a thank you for what he’s just done for me. I want him to feel what I’ve just felt. He flexes as I lower my mouth over the head of his shaft. It takes me a while to remember what to do, because this is something I’ve never done for Richard. He’s always said he doesn’t like it. Now I know why. No, Josi, no thoughts of Richard now. Grant is all there is. Grant and his hardness, Grant and his moans, Grant and his thrusting, Grant in the back of your throat, Grant and his ‘Oh yes baby, just there, right there, that’s good baby,’ Grant slipping in and out of your mouth, Grant and his ‘Oh, Oh, Oh, BABY!’ Grant squirting fountains in your mouth. This is for Grant.
He’s still for so long I have to ask if he’s OK. He doesn’t have to tell me it was the best blow job he’s ever had, and in any case, I don’t believe him. I don’t want or need that kind of flattery and tell him so. What I don’t tell him about is the doubt he’s helped me to let go of. The fear that I wouldn’t be able to do that to anyone again because of what Richard’s done. I don’t tell him either that he’s reminded me how much I’ve missed that in my love-making with Richard.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is Sudbury House, where we’ll be stopping for lunch.’ Tim’s voice interrupts my reverie. He gives us instructions on where to sit, what to expect in terms of service and where to meet afterwards. Josh is hopelessly drunk and Irene’s become his carer. He’s the reluctant child, she the resigned mother.
Tim introduces me to two other drivers and their passengers, all of whom are sober and interesting, who had a few drinks but knew when to stop. He offers me the opportunity to travel back with one of them and I gratefully accept.
Sunbury House has been gloriously restored to its former glory as a plantation house, set in beautiful gardens dominated by a stunning bearded fig tree, from which Barbados takes its name. Lunch, a lavish buffet, is preceded by rum punch or a selection of soft drinks. I can’t believe my travelling companions opt for more rum punch and then complain that it’s weak! My question throughout the tour is, ‘Why am I with this group?’ One I pose to Celia later when I tell her about my day. Without hesitation, she replies, ‘Because you’re all running away from something.’
I call Grant when I get back. He doesn’t answer. I leave a message asking him to call. He doesn’t. I don’t want to admit it but I am disappointed. I’ve started looking forward to seeing him.
Josi
I’m on the beach the following morning, reminding myself, as I run on the dry sand with Carlisle, that I’ve come to Barbados to get rid of baggage, not to collect more. He’s making me laugh about some incident on the beach with a tourist yesterday. He can’t stay for long this morning, as he’s on the early shift again, but he’s pleased I decided to give the dry sand a go. Before he goes, he puts one hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes with a seriousness I’ve not seen before.
‘Josi, there are a lot of people on this beach. Some are friendly, genuine people, but some of them might not be too good to keep company with.’
‘Pardon?’ What’s he talking about? I’m not keeping company with anybody I met on the beach. I talk to them, pass the time of day, nod, say hello, see through the chat up lines, the big egos, the magnificent picture some of them paint of themselves. I’m friendly, polite, but I can’t think of a single person I’m “keeping company with”.
‘Anyone in particular?’
‘The man you were with at the volley ball game.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I know you’re a big woman and can look after yourself, but just be careful. Anyway, I have to run now. Take care.’
I watch him go. What did he mean? Is he warning me about Grant?
I’m still pondering it when I notice a man purposefully walking towards me. As he gets closer, I recognise him; Karl,
a friend from my last visit. He opens his arms like an opera singer and I run into them. We laugh and hug, he spins me around.
‘Careful,’ I warn him, ‘I’m wet.’
He takes no notice and gives me another spin. I look him up and down with approval. ‘You haven’t changed at all,’ I tell him. He turns sideways so I can see his profile. He’s wearing shorts and a long t-shirt which lies flatter on his stomach than I remember from last time.
‘Oh sorree. I stand corrected. Where did the belly go?’
‘Donated it to a deserving thin family,’ he says with a big grin.
‘You look great, as always, just a little less of you.’
‘Why, thank you mam.’ He takes a mock bow.
Karl’s about five feet eight, with a square frame. Big hands, big feet, quiet speech and a big laugh. He’s got soft rounded features and eyes that look just a little too small for his head. This he more than makes up for with his big smile. The window to his soul is his smile.
‘I didn’t know you still trained on this beach. I’ve been here over a week now and managed to miss you all this time. Where have you been? Did you get my message? We had a devil of a job tracking you down. Celia actually went to your old place to get your new number. I thought you’d left the country or something.’
‘Mam, mam, slow down.’ He laughs a big laugh. ‘Yes I got your message, no I haven’t left and yes it’s great to see you.’
‘Walk with me. I don’t want to cool down yet. So what time of the day do you come down, must be pretty early cause I’m down here for seven most days.’
‘I don’t really get down here much anymore, but this morning I just felt I needed to take some time out, and of course I wanted to see you.’
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
‘A hunch.’
I’d spent quite a bit of time with Karl the last time I was here. He came to the beach a lot more then, probably because he had a lot more to lose. He runs a solar heating business which keeps him busy and has a wife and son who keep him heavily supplied with grief. He knows what to do, just prefers the quiet life, so gives in to their demands and suffers in silence. We had endless chats last time and even kept in touch for a while.
‘So, how’s married life?’ he asks, holding up my left hand to look at my rings.
‘You know, full of ups and downs. You should know. You’ve been at it a lot longer than me.’ I’m glad he’s not looking directly in my face, my eyes might belie my frilly fluffy reply.
‘It’s too early for you to be saying that,’ he half jokes. Then a little more seriously, ‘Something wrong?’
‘Nothing that a few weeks of sun and sea can’t…’ He follows my gaze to Grant walking across the beach toward me. Trainers tied together and slung over his shoulder, black swim shorts, confident stride, bare chest, shades perched on top of his head.
‘Just one moment,’ I tell Karl, ‘my running partner’s turned up. Late – again. I’ll just go and tell him I’ve finished,’ because Grant’s taken a detour to one of the tables. Why am I lying? Why don’t I want these two men to meet? There’s nothing between me and Karl, and not likely to be, but he knows I’m newly married. What would he think of me if he knew what I’d been doing with Grant a couple of days ago?
‘Hi,’ I make no attempt to touch him or he me.
‘Hi. Been down here long?’
‘Yeah, just finishing off my cool down. Got another five laps to go. Karl’s doing them with me.’
‘Oh.’
‘Can you wait till I’ve finished or do you have to go?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Won’t be long.’ As I turn back to Karl, Grant shouts, ‘Did you get my message?’
‘No, my phone’s in my bag.’
He sits at the picnic table with his back to us.
‘Where was I?’ I ask Karl, as I fall into step with him, the water washing over our bare feet.
‘You were telling me what you came to fix with sun and sea.’ His lilting voice ebbs and flows with the waves.
I’m not sure what he’s read into my interaction with Grant, but he tells me he’s taken the day off in case I had some time to spend catching up, as he doesn’t know when he’ll see me again.
Grant sitting yards away from us unsettles me. Even with his back to me I feel his energy. What to do? Both of them have turned up unannounced. Karl will think it odd if I leave with Grant, my running partner, whom he presumes I see most days. Grant will be upset if I go off with Karl. Even if he isn’t, I want to spend time with him more than I do with Karl. What to do?
I tell Karl I’m expecting confirmation of an appointment and need to check my phone. There are five missed calls from Grant over the last half hour. I listen to his message: ‘Hi babes. I’m so sorry I didn’t call you. I fell asleep and lost track of the time. Hope you’re not mad at me. I’m just checking if you’re at the beach. I’m going to come down anyway. Give me a call.’ I look across at him. He’s still got his back to me.
I tell Karl I have an appointment in two hours with one of Celia’s friends which I don’t want to change. Is he OK for me being with him for that time?
‘If that’s what you can give me, I’m happy for it.’
‘I just need to let my friend know.’
I go to Grant and tell him my friend is having some real problems with his business and I’ve offered to help him with some advice over the next two hours. Can he be around till then or does he have something else planned? He leans his head to one side. A fleeting look of incredulity crosses his face before he drawls, ‘Yeah, I guess I’ll wait.’
‘Thanks,’ I breathe out and run back to Karl. I feel like Lucy Honeychurch in A Room with a View, who lies and lies and lies.
Karl suggests going to get breakfast at a little place he knows that won’t mind us being a bit sweaty. I rinse my feet under the tap by the changing area, put my trainers back on and leave Grant on the beach.
‘So how are things really?’ Karl asks when we’ve got our toast, eggs and drinks.
‘Like I said, some ups some downs.’
‘Something come up you didn’t know about before?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘Like you said, I’ve been at this longer than you. Problems so soon in a marriage, has to be something like that.’
I continue chewing to avoid answering. He sees this and carries on.
He’s got marriage woes of his own, only he seems resigned to them, doesn’t seem to have the energy to do anything that would upset things too much, doesn’t want to have to deal with the fall out. When a boil bubbles up, he brings out another sticking plaster. If his marriage was a body there probably wouldn’t be a single part of it not covered by a plaster. Financial imprudence, disagreements over how to raise the children, where to live, what work to do, how to socialise, infidelity.
A boil comes up and instead of lancing it he reaches for a plaster and, like all plasters, they fall off from time to time, the pus seeps out. Another plaster. His marriage is rotting from the inside but the outside looks fine. What’s painful is that he knows this, but is too battered from years of foraging for plasters to marshal the will to go into the full scale battle it would take to clean up the mess; and walking away doesn’t seem to be an option.
As much as I like Karl, I recognise that suffering is his badge of honour. By his demeanour he insinuates that there isn’t anything so big that a plaster can’t be found. I don’t tell him that I’d need a bandage and the body would look like a mummy. This one can’t be covered. He’s sweet, he’s dear, he’s thinner, but he’s not happy.
Someone’s joined Grant at the table. As I draw closer I see he’s deep in conversation with a middle aged man, clean shaved head, deep cut features. His nose in profile has a slight hook. The kind of face you imagine fitting well in a line up of convicts. He’s got beige skin and beige clothes, a sharp contrast to Grant’s dark skin and bla
ck shorts.
He looks up as I reach the table. The smile on his lips doesn’t make it to his eyes as he introduces me.
‘Sammy, this is my friend Josi, she visiting from England. Josi, Sammy.’
Sammy holds out his soft buttery hand and I shake it. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he says in an unnatural sugary voice as he looks me up and down. As they both remain seated and no invitation is offered for me to join them, I ask Grant, ‘Are you still OK for later?’
‘Yeah sure,’ he says flatly, ‘do you want me to pick you up?’
I nod. ‘See you later. Nice to meet you Sammy.’
I turn and walk across the sand to the road, conscious of two pairs of eyes on my back.
I shower and choose my clothes carefully. Short cream skirt which is at home on my hips, grey and cream stripy vest which show off my arms a treat, grey belt threaded through the loops of the skirt and cream sandals. Hair pulled back loosely with a cream chiffon scarf.
He arrives on time and appraises me from head to toe and back again, like it’s the first time he’s seeing me today. He smiles a long slow smile as I get in beside him, and equally slowly lets his head rest on my forehead and his lips on mine. I feel prickly heat. He makes no attempt to touch me in any other way for a while, then gently parts my lips with his tongue. A small moan escapes from my lips. As though satisfied with that, he sits back in his seat and smiles.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Just be with you,’ my head says but my lips say, ‘Can we have lunch at St Lawrence Gap?’
‘Sure, anywhere in particular?’
‘Somewhere that does snacks. I’m not very hungry but I do need to eat.’
As he drives, I use the time to take him in. He’s a ball of sunshine in an orange polo shirt and green, blue and orange plaid shorts. He always appears so calm. I know he wasn’t happy with the scene on the beach this morning but there’s no sign of any annoyance. Either he’s very quick at forgiving or he goes to the same plaster shop as Karl.