by Marian Keyes
Katherine was so moved by his sincerity that she was struck dumb. She believed him. Being in the presence of his potent masculinity felt powerfully right, as if she should always have been there. The final piece of the jigsaw of her life slotted into place. ‘OK,’ she squeaked. ‘You can come to my room for a cup of tea, but no funny business, mind.’ Sternly, she waggled her finger, which, snapping and growling playfully, Lorcan tried to bite. Katherine collapsed into peals of giggles.
‘Come on.’ Lorcan put his arm around her waist and half hurried, half carried her along the pavement.
‘I mean it.’ She looked into his face as he whisked her along. ‘No funny business.’
‘None,’ Lorcan agreed affectionately.
But funny business there was.
At her bedsit, no sooner had she handed him a cup of tea than he put it down on top of a pile of accountancy textbooks. Then firmly he took her cup and put it down also.
‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was croaky.
‘I don’t want you to spill your tea.’
‘But I won’t.’
‘You might. It’s very hard to drink tea and be kissed at the same time’
She was terrified. He was a rapist after all! She opened her mouth to protest, but he’d pulled her to him, his arm huge and hard around her back. Then he lowered his handsome face, placed his beautiful mouth on hers, and kissed her.
She felt a half-second of revulsion, but just before she shoved him away, the magic arrived. She’d been kissed before, but never like this, and by the time he stopped she didn’t want him to. When she reluctantly opened her eyes, her entire body was leaning forward, angling into him.
‘Meet me tomorrow, Katherine with a K?’
‘OK,’ she said breathlessly.
When the nuns had told them to never wear black patent shoes with a skirt for fear that a man might see the reflection of their knickers, even Katherine had scoffed. But, all the same, some of the teachings of the Catholic Church had their hooks deep into her. She didn’t mind how Tara or Fintan lived their lives, but she’d always intended she’d be a virgin when she got married. She was adamant that she’d never go all the way with Lorcan, never more certain of anything in her life. But she was happy for him to kiss her. And kiss her he did.
They spent every evening together, sometimes going to his flat but mostly going to hers. Where they’d lie on her single bed and, while her accountancy books gathered dust on her tiny desk, kiss each other for hours. Long, hot, probing kisses, him half on top of her, the weight of his body both frightening and delicious, his leg thrown over her, his hand caressing the curve of her waist, her body turned into his.
The smoky, grown-up, masculine smell of his jacket, the silkiness of his hair beneath her hands, the way he groaned when she tantalized the nape of his neck, the hot, sweet pressure of his mouth on hers. But when he began to fiddle with her bra-clasp she was horrified: with him for his audacity and with herself because she’d wanted him to. She made them stop, pushed him off, sat up, told him that she wasn’t that kind of girl and that he needn’t try a repeat of his behaviour. He apologized profusely.
But the next time they were together he tried it again and Katherine was like an avenging angel. ‘Go home now,’ she ordered.
He was devastated. He actually wept, and swore that he’d never do it again. But she just repeated, ‘I want you to go.’
So he went and she bawled crying and thought that it was all over. Though she’d only been going out with him for two weeks, never had she felt so abandoned or alone.
But at seven o’clock the following morning, there was a pounding on her door and when she opened it, white-faced and nauseous from her sleepless night, Lorcan was standing there, a picture of contrite anguish. Wordlessly, they flung themselves into each other’s arms, then she led him in to lie down on her bed. And when he unbuttoned the front of her nightdress and touched her breasts and used his teeth to coax her pink nipples into hot, hard peaks, she made no protest.
Though she knew it was wrong she loved it. Shame mingled with dirty, horny desire and every time they were together she wanted to, but couldn’t, tell Lorcan to stop touching her. Eventually she made peace with herself and her jumpy conscience by deciding that above the waist was allowable. After all, everyone did it – Tara had been letting boys feel her breasts since she was fourteen. And so long as Katherine and Lorcan weren’t doing anything ‘down there’ she’d be all right. Besides he was mad about her. Couldn’t be nicer. Loved everything about her.
During one of the intimate conversations they had between bouts of burning kisses, she was reassured that this was something special. Lorcan had looked at her meaningfully, his eyes half closed and said, ‘I bet you’ve had millions of boyfriends.’
‘No.’ She was too inexperienced to lie. ‘Not a lot. Just two.’
‘Now you’re making me jealous,’ he said, huffily. And he wasn’t acting.
‘No, no, no, don’t be!’ she cried. ‘They were just boys who came to Knockavoy for their summer holidays. Neither of them was anything like… this.’
‘Well, wasn’t I worth waiting for?’ He chuckled.
‘Yes.’ That was exactly what she thought – Lorcan was her reward for being a good girl. All things come to those who wait. ‘And,’ she asked, shyly, ‘and have you had many girlfriends before me?’ She steeled herself because she knew he was bound to have had. Especially considering that he was seven years older than she was. And so good-looking.
‘One or two,’ he said idly. ‘No one special.’
In whispered phone calls from her office, Katherine told Tara and Fintan she had a boyfriend. Over the weeks she confided that he was ‘gorgeous’, that she was ‘mad about him’, and that he was ‘mad about her’. How soon could they get down to Limerick so that she could show him off?
But neither of them could come for at least a month because they were working nights.
‘Oh.’ Katherine was disappointed.
‘Sorry. We’d love to,’ Tara said. ‘We’re dying to see him. Tell us again how good-looking he is. Is he as nice as Danny Hartigan?’
Katherine gave a bark of scornful laughter. Danny Hartigan had been Tara’s for two weeks the summer before last, and was the yardstick by which every other boy was measured. But compared to Lorcan he was a squirt. ‘Much better than Danny Hartigan. He’s like a film star and he’s actually an actor, you know.’
‘Janey Mackers.’ Tara could hardly contain her envy. An actor! ‘Now you tell us.’
‘He’s an actor,’ Katherine faintly heard Tara shout to Fintan. Her voice came back on the line at normal pitch. ‘Would we know him?’ she begged, in excitement. ‘Have we seen him in anything?’
‘Maybe.’ Katherine overflowed with pride. ‘You know the ad for fabric softener? When they’re all playing football and…?’
‘I – don’t – believe – it,’ Tara intoned. ‘Not the ref who tells them to take off their jerseys for the wash? He is FABULOUS!’
‘Fabulous!’ Katherine heard Fintan’s echoey shriek. ‘No, not the ref, actually,’ Katherine admitted. ‘He’s one of the players, in the right-hand corner at the far end of the field.’
‘Settle down.’ Tara turned from the phone to Fintan. ‘It’s not the ref.’
‘You can’t miss him,’ Katherine said. ‘He’s running away so there’s a great shot of his back… Do you know him?’
‘Maybe,’ Tara said doubtfully.
‘He has red hair and is really tall.’
‘Red hair! You never mentioned that before. And really tall? Are you sure he’s good-looking? He sounds more like Beaker from The Muppet Show!’
‘Well, he’s not,’ Katherine said huffily.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. So tell me, is it serious?’
‘Oh, yes, I think so,’ she said, confidently.
‘Holy Maloney! Well, try and get a photo of him and come and see us at the hotel the very minute you get o
ff the bus on Friday night.’
‘Oh, I can’t.’ Katherine explained, hurriedly, ‘I thought I’d stay down this weekend. To be with him, you see?’
‘Again?’
The way Lorcan made her feel was irresistible. When he kissed her, she felt hot and frantic, when he took her nipple in his mouth, she thought she’d explode. Sometimes when she was alone she’d touch herself through her panties and wonder at the hot, tingly sensations she felt. Though she hadn’t been to confession for quite a while, she wondered how she’d ever go again.
The day came when they were lying on her bed as usual, kissing passionately, when she heard the whiz of a zip and felt Lorcan fumbling with himself. Then she heard the crumple of denim and crisp cotton and realized Lorcan was shucking down his jeans. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked in alarm.
‘You don’t have to do anything,’ he said hoarsely, stroking himself. ‘Just touch it. Just once.’
‘No!’
‘Please. You’ll like it.’
‘It’s wrong.’
‘How can it be wrong? We love each other.’
It was the first she’d heard of it, but she was delighted. Though it wasn’t going to shake her resolve. ‘We really shouldn’t…’
‘We should. We love each other.’
And so, trembling, she let him take her hand and guide it to his erect penis. Her eyes clenched shut, she yelped as soon as her fingertips touched the surprisingly silky skin, not allowing herself to register the hardness or the size. ‘There,’ she said, wrenching her hand away. ‘I hope you’re happy and I’m not doing it again.’
She truly meant it, but the next time they were together, he unzipped himself again. Instead of just brushing her hand against it, he clamped her palm along the shaft and wrapped her fingers tightly around it, his hand around hers. Then began to move her hand, up and down, up and down.
‘No,’ she begged.
‘Tighter,’ he groaned. ‘Faster. I love you. Faster.’
The little bed was jiggling. His breath was harsh in her ear and his contorted, red-faced desire made him a stranger to her. She felt sullied and insulted, and as something hot gushed over her hand she was downright disgusted.
But when he was gone and she was alone, she found herself remembering it, and it filled the pit of her stomach – and lower – with excitement. To think she could make him feel like that. She felt powerful and sexy, dangerous and adult, and she wanted to do it again. With a lurch of fear she wondered if she was officially in a state of mortal sin. If she died now would she be condemned to spend all eternity burning in the flames? Though her logical side insisted that hellfire was just a load of superstitious nonsense, her emotional response was one of anxiety and fear. You never knew. What if it was true?
She could have gone to confession and got absolution and been in the clear if she did drop dead unexpectedly. But she knew the priest would tell her to stop doing those things with Lorcan, maybe even to stop seeing him altogether.
And she couldn’t do that. She was utterly addicted to what they did on her bed and it was inconceivable not to see him. So, trying not to see how far her standards had slipped, she decided that because they loved each other, it neutralized the question of mortal sin. She’d always told herself that no matter what else she did with him, she’d never Go All The Way. After all, even Tara hadn’t Gone All The Way! But over the weeks Lorcan eroded Katherine’s resistance to the stage where every time they lay on the bed, he had his jeans around his knees, her panties were mid-thigh, and he was allowed to place the tip of his erection against her entrance.
‘We’ll never go further than this, will we?’ she whispered.
‘Never,’ he whispered back.
But sometimes he’d jab against her and it flooded them both with such powerfully sweet sensations that he’d jab it a bit more.
‘But you won’t put it in,’ she’d whisper.
‘I won’t put it in,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll just kind of move it like… that. Is that nice?’
She nodded. It was the most beautiful feeling she’d ever had. And, so long as they didn’t actually go any further, she was all right.
‘Is it OK if I just move it a bit?’ Lorcan murmured.
‘Well, all right, so long as you don’t put it in.’
‘I won’t put it in.’
After a while Katherine said, in low alarm, ‘I think you might be putting it in.’
‘I’m not,’ he said hoarsely, his hips making small, frantic movements. ‘It’s on the outside, and I’m just kind of moving…’
But his hip movements became bigger and tougher and faster, and to Katherine’s horror just as a full, packed-tight sensation plunged into her, she heard Lorcan say triumphantly, ‘Now it’s in!’
She cried afterwards and he held her in his arms, stroking her hair, saying over and over, ‘It’ll be all right, baby, it’ll be all right.’
She turned a tear-stained face to him. ‘We’re never doing it again,’ she said sullenly. ‘Don’t think you’ll convince me because you won’t. This is the wrongest thing I’ve ever done. If I died now I’d go straight to Hell.’
But they did it again. Another one-off. Then they did it again. But when Lorcan made noises about getting her ‘sorted out’, she snapped that there was no need because they’d never be doing it again.
Of course they did. Not because Lorcan threatened to break it off with her if she wouldn’t play. He didn’t have to. Her own treacherous body was the most persuasive factor – she just couldn’t resist him.
And what consoled her, in her hours of shame and self-disgust, was the thought that he loved her. Once they were married it would make everything all right, retrospectively validate it, as it were.
Not that marriage had actually been mentioned, but it was implied. By the look in his eyes every time he saw her, by the warmth in his voice when he told her he loved her.
75
It was Benjy who spoke, shattering the horrified silence in Katherine’s living-room.
‘Er,’ he said awkwardly, wondering why he was always the one who cleared up Lorcan’s messes, ‘it just goes to show that there’s only thirteen people in the world and they do the rest with mirrors. But I suppose we should be off. Amy? Tara? Lorcan?’
‘Yes, we should.’ Amy’s voice was choked.
Lorcan made no sign of having heard anything.
‘Lorcan?’ Benjy repeated, meaningfully.
‘But it’s nice here,’ Lorcan said softly, cruelly. Then he smiled at Katherine, who was lifelessly wedged between him and Joe. And the smile said, I’ll be back.
With lazy grace, Lorcan kept everyone waiting while he slowly unfolded himself from beside Katherine. ‘’Bye,’ he drawled, swinging himself towards the door.
‘’Bye,’ Tara and Benjy squeaked, unable to get out fast enough.
Amy opened her mouth to say goodbye but all that came out was ‘Aaarrr.’
The door slammed, the silence hummed and the room was almost empty of people yet full of malevolence.
‘How do you know Lorcan?’ Katherine asked Joe, in a death-knell voice. She didn’t turn to look at him.
‘I worked with him on an ad. Or, rather, didn’t work with him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was such a handful we had to get another actor.’
‘Figures. That’s Lorcan. The big star.’ He didn’t know whether or not she was serious.
‘How do you know him?’
‘I lost my virginity – and a whole lot more – to him,’ she said hollowly.
The way she said it chilled him with real fear. He tried to put his arm around her and she writhed away. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘I want you to leave,’ she told him coldly.
‘Don’t do this,’ he begged.
‘I want you to leave.’
Joe didn’t understand. He just knew something had shifted ineluctably; that he’d lost Katherine. Was it because she was a
ngry about Angie? Or was it to do with Lorcan? He suspected it was more Lorcan than Angie. While Lorcan had been in the room, Joe had felt like he didn’t exist.
‘Go now,’ she ordered.
In despair, he tried again, but she was unreachable.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he promised, then reluctantly left.
Tara was mortified when she returned an hour later. ‘Katherine, I am so, so sorry. What a terrible coincidence. If I’d had any idea, any sort of inkling, that you knew Lorcan I wouldn’t have brought him near the place.’
‘You’re home early,’ Katherine said heavily.
‘Yeah, well…’ The evening had gone off-the-chart downhill after they’d left because the tension between Lorcan and Amy was so toxic. ‘So have I got this right?’ Tara asked. ‘Lorcan is Beaker from The Muppet Show? The one who was your boyfriend when you lived in Limerick?’
Katherine tipped her head slowly.
‘And he ditched you?’
‘Yeah. He ditched me.’
‘Fintan and I suspected at the time that your heart had been mashed.’
‘But I didn’t want to talk about it.’
‘We noticed,’ Tara said drily.
‘Sorry.’
‘He’s very good-looking,’ Tara said. ‘No wonder you were so upset when you came back to Knockavoy. But he’s a right prick at the same time. Thinks he’s God’s gift. Look at the way he flirted with you in front of his girlfriend.’
‘Yeah, that’s Lorcan.’
The weary way she near-groaned instead of speaking alerted Tara. Alarmed, she took in Katherine’s demeanour. She looked drugged. ‘Have you been smoking spliff?’
‘No.’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘No.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine.’
‘You seem… not very with it. Are you upset? Was it a big shock to see Lorcan?’
‘Why would it be a shock?’
‘You tell me.’ Tara watched her carefully, then realized something. ‘Where’s Joe?’