'Are you a professional dancer?' Dougie asked. He hadn't been doing much moving about himself, more just a shuffle of his feet and a few waves of his hands.
'No,' she laughed. 'But my mother was. I suppose it's in the blood.'
Once or twice Camellia caught a glimpse of Suzanne and Carol, dancing on the other side of the club, but as they were obviously happy she forgot all about them. The more she looked at Dougie, the more she liked him. He wasn't like any other man she'd ever met.
The heat eventually stopped them dancing and they went over to one of the booths at the side of the club to get a soft drink.
Even here it was too noisy to have a real conversation, though Dougie pointed out a few of the more outrageously dressed people and told her who they were.
'See that guy in the orange robe?' he said, indicating a tall dark-haired man with a beard. 'Well he's an American lawyer, he gets his kicks coming down here when he's in London on business. Straight as a die he is, wouldn't know a drug if you shoved one up his nose, yet he gets all dressed up and dances all night.'
'What about him,' Camellia pointed out the man they'd thought earlier was a ballet dancer.
'He's an acid head,' Dougie grinned. 'He used to be with the Royal Ballet. The owner here lets him in for free because he makes a good floor show. That's what this place is all about really, a show. We get them all in here, the queers, the exhibitionists, and then a whole load of people who come to watch. It wouldn't be any fun if everyone was like that.' He pointed to a scruffy looking couple sitting against a wall, their eyes almost closed.
'They are on heroin,' he said. 'Losers both of them. They'll probably dip in a few pockets or handbags before the night's over to get their next fix. They started doing heroin for fun, now they don't know the meaning of the word any more.'
Camellia wanted to know a great deal more about Dougie, but without shouting to make herself heard, she couldn't ask him any more questions. He confused her a little. He knew everyone here, he seemed to belong here, yet he was cynical about the whole thing. Where did he fit in?
They had been back on the dance floor for only a few minutes when suddenly Suzanne was at her side twitching the sleeve of her tunic.
'Where've you been?' she said crossly. 'We looked everywhere for you.'
'I only went with Dougie for a drink.' Camellia stopped dancing for a moment. 'What's the matter?'
'It's nearly three. We want to go home,' Suzanne replied. 'Are you coming with us?'
Camellia looked across the floor. The crowd had thinned out a little without her noticing. Carol was standing between two earnest-looking boys in denim jackets with Beatle-style haircuts. It was obvious even from a distance that the four of them intended to go together.
'It's early yet,' Camellia pleaded. 'Can't you wait a bit longer?'
'We won't get a taxi if we stay any later.' Suzanne's pupils were dilated so far Camellia could see no iris. 'Besides the boys want us to go back to their place for coffee.'
Dougie moved forward and slung his arm round Camellia's shoulder. 'You don't have to leave with them. I'll get you home,' he said.
Camellia looked from Suzanne to Dougie. She knew she ought to go with Suzanne – after all she was supposed to be staying the weekend at her parents' house in Hammersmith. But if she left now she might never see Dougie again.
'You don't want me as a gooseberry if you're with them,' Camellia nodded towards the boys. 'And I'd rather stay here.'
Suzanne frowned. She was torn. She wanted to go back with the boys, but she didn't like to leave Camellia here. Then there was her father. If they weren't in by eight in the morning he'd go crackers.
'Meet us at Hammersmith tube at eight,' she suggested. 'Don't be late. Dad will go ape if we don't get back together with the same story.'
'Okay,' Camellia thought this sounded a good idea.
'I'll see she gets there,' Dougie chipped in.
'Well, we'll be off then.' Suzanne still looked anxious. 'Are you sure you'll be all right?'
'Of course I will,' Camellia smiled, it was a new experience being fussed over.
Suzanne took a step back, then hesitated again.
'Go on! Don't worry about me,' Camellia urged her. 'And have a good time with those blokes.'
The music seemed to tug at Camellia's emotions once her friends had left. Lyrics she'd never noticed before now all seemed to hold a special message.
'All the boys in the neighbourhood, would love her if they could,' Dougie sang the words softly in her ear, holding her tightly against him, stroking her hair and back.
When he kissed her Camellia felt the club revolve around her. She had plenty of practice at kissing, and of fending boys off who wanted to go any further. But Dougie was a man, not a boy. He didn't lunge at her or try to squeeze the breath out of her. It was magical, tender and so very erotic.
It was almost light as they came up the steps from the club, ears ringing from the loud music. The market looked oddly skeletal closed up, yet there was still a faint whiff of flowers and fruit in the air.
Camellia shivered and hugged her arms around her body.
'It's far too early to go to Hammersmith yet,' Dougie said taking his jacket and draping it round her shoulders. 'Come home with me!'
Reason told her it wasn't wise to go home with a man she'd only known a few hours. But Dougie was right: it was too early to go to Hammersmith.
'Don't look so worried.' He lifted her face to his, kissing her lightly on the lips. 'It's only around the corner, you can leave just after seven and you'll be there in plenty of time.'
He held her hand and led her down a small alley, across another narrow street and into a tiny dark courtyard. He stopped by a printer's shop. 'Before we go in, I want you to promise you won't ever tell anyone where I live.'
A ray of early morning light cut down through a gap in the high buildings and drifted across his high cheek bones. Suddenly he looked sinister, and she drew back instinctively, afraid.
'You're safe with me.' His voice was low and compelling. 'I don't bring people here because I'm not a trusting person. But you're different, Camellia, and I feel something special for you.'
A couple of years ago no one in the world had cared about her. If being daring was the way to find love and adventure she wasn't going to duck the chance.
'I won't tell anyone,' she insisted. She would tell Suzanne she'd gone straight from the club to the tube.
But her fear returned as Dougie led her into the dark shop that smelled of machinery and printers' ink and through another door into total darkness.
'There's no light till we get to the top,' he said, locking the door behind him. 'Hold on to my hand, I'll lead the way.'
A stink of mildew made her recoil. She could feel bare wooden boards under her feet, and a sensation that mice or rats could be lurking made her shudder, but it was too late now to back off. Up and up they went, till at last Dougie switched on a light to reveal a square landing with smoke blackened walls.
'There was a fire here once,' he said calmly. 'The printer's old and I do a lot of deals for him, so he lets me live here. I'm going to get it all done up soon.'
There was one big dark room, with a primitive kitchen and bathroom leading off, filled with shabby furniture that reminded her of Fishmarket Street, with a big wooden bedstead the centrepiece.
Fear turned to horror when he picked up a big steel bar and placed it in brackets across the door. 'Don't be scared,' he smiled, looking round at her over his shoulder. 'This is to keep people out, not you in.'
He lit the gas fire to take the chill off the room and put Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band on a Dansette record player. Camellia stood awkwardly, shivering, clutching his jacket more tightly round her. She wished she'd insisted on getting a cup of coffee somewhere.
'Come here,' he said, holding out one hand.
She came to him hesitantly, but he drew her into his arms and held her, his face against her hair.
'
Isn't that something?' he whispered, pointing to the view.
Camellia looked out over the rooftops, but it was the sky itself Dougie was drawing her attention to: every shade from palest grey, up through blues interspersed with strands of pink and finally red, surrounding the giant melon sun.
He kissed her then, his warm lips coming down on Camellia's so softly she melted against him, losing her fear. His fingers entwined in her hair, drawing her closer and closer until they were as one.
'I knew you were special as soon as I saw you,' he whispered, kissing her neck, her ears and eyes. 'It's like that sky out there, Camellia, all new and shiny. I just want to hold on to you and make it last forever.'
Camellia was quite used to boys trying to seduce her. But this was different. He'd removed her belt and unzipped her tunic almost without her realising it and when he kissed her and slid his hands over the bare skin of her back, she trembled. Carol and Suzanne were always talking about sex at work, yet she knew they'd both think she was a slut to allow a man she'd only just met take such liberties with her.
Yet she was afraid to stop him, so terribly scared he wouldn't like her anymore. His arms held a warmth and tenderness she had not felt since she was a child. His kisses wiped out all the feelings she'd ever had of not belonging. Besides, she had pretended to be so sophisticated all evening. How could she revert to being a babyish little virgin now?
As he laid her back on the bed somehow he managed to remove her tunic all in the same move. 'Don't be scared,' he whispered. 'I only want to love you. Let me take your bra off and see your breasts,'
It was the wonder on his face when he touched her naked breasts for the first time which moved her. She had thought for so many years that she was ugly and unlovable, hiding her body from anyone's gaze. He sat back on his haunches beside her, took one breast in each hand and stroked them as reverently as if they were a work of art.
'You are so beautiful, Camellia,' he murmured, bending to kiss her nipples. 'The most beautiful girl I ever saw.'
Time had no meaning as she lay in his arms being kissed and cuddled. Each time he kissed her breasts she felt as if something was wringing her insides, tweaking an invisible cord which made her move closer and closer to him. Several times his hands moved down to remove her shorts, but somehow she managed to stop him.
'No further,' she insisted, although she might have weakened had it been dark. Her whole being wanted to be touched and explored, to find the seat of that burning inside her. If she could somehow have removed her boots, shorts, tights and knickers without him seeing, and got in under the sheets but sunshine was pouring through the window and she wasn't confident enough about her naked body yet, not to expose it to his eyes.
Eventually she stood up. 'I have to go,' she said. She didn't want to leave him but it was gone seven. Although Dougie's eyes kept drooping, Camellia was wide awake. It must have been the pills she'd taken: she felt faintly sick too and wanted a cup of tea.
'Meet me tomorrow. Covent Garden tube at eight,' he said sleepily. 'I think I'm falling in love with you.'
Dougie had fallen asleep in the time it took her to put on her tunic and belt and go to the toilet. Camellia noticed now the grime on the walls, the balls of fluff on the floor, the grey, stained sheets. But as she bent over to kiss him goodbye, her heart contracted painfully. His face in sleep had lost its hardness, his lips were slack and so very soft. She lifted a black curl, letting it coil around her finger like a spring. He said he was falling in love with her. She could change the way he lived.
Dougie was waiting as she came out of the tube station on Monday evening, he was leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette, but as he saw her he dropped it and almost leapt to her side.
'I didn't think you'd come,' he said, pulling her to him for a kiss regardless of people passing by either side of them. 'I thought you'd think better of it now you've seen where I live.'
Camellia just smiled and shook her head. She had thought of nothing else but him since she let herself out of that horrible dark printing shop, counting the hours till she could see him. She'd been excited about dates before, but never like this.
She had taken a big risk too, in stealing the dress she was wearing, before it was even priced. It was a Mary Quant mini, white with a black diagonal stripe from one shoulder to the hip, and only three had been delivered. She just hoped she didn't bump into any of the staff from Peter Robinson's.
'You look gorgeous,' Dougie said, taking her hand. 'Now where would you like to go?'
Camellia couldn't suggest anywhere, she knew so little about the West End's pubs, so Dougie took her to Old King Cole's down in the Strand which appeared to have been taken over by flower children and played loud rock music. As in the Middle Earth, Dougie seemed to know everyone.
The time went far too quickly. It seemed as if they'd only been there less than an hour when Camellia noticed it was half past ten.
'I must go,' she gasped. She would be hard pushed to make it back to Archway House by eleven.
They had talked about all kinds of things, yet she still didn't know much about Dougie. Why did he live in such an awful place when he seemed to have so much money? And why was he so evasive about his background, when she'd told him so much about hers?
'Stay with me tonight?' Dougie took her hand and lifted it to his lips. 'Please?'
'I can't. I'll get into trouble,' she said sadly.
'What's the worst that warden can do?' Dougie asked with a shrug of his shoulders. 'Throw you out?'
Camellia nodded.
'Well does that matter? You could always come and stay with me, we could do my place up together,' he said with a persuasive grin. 'You can't live being in at eleven. That's ridiculous, especially now you're my girl. I'm just waking up at that time of day.'
'I can't stay with you,' Camellia blushed. 'I might end up having a baby.'
'If that's all you're worried about I'll soon get that sorted,' Dougie grinned.
An hour or two later Camellia was in Dougie's bed, any earlier anxiety about Miss Peet or the rights and wrongs of staying the night with Dougie were gone in the joy of being held and loved.
It was too dark to see the ugliness of his flat. A soft, cool breeze was coming through the big open window and he had lit a couple of candles by the bed.
She felt as if she was lying on satin sheets, a fairytale prince making love to her. Maybe it was that pot she'd smoked with him that made her feel so secure and so happy, or just the way he kept singing snatches of the Beatles record 'Something' to her.
His chest looked golden in the candlelight, and it felt so silky. She had been a little alarmed at the size of his penis, rising up almost to his navel, the first adult one she'd ever seen. But he had been stroking and playing with her for so long, she knew the time had come when she must let him put it inside her.
'Let me put this under your bum,' he whispered, lifting her slightly to push a pillow beneath her buttocks. 'It makes it easier.'
A pang of jealousy stabbed at her. Somehow it showed how many other girls he'd been with.
It hurt. She wished she could push him off and say it was all a mistake. All the pleasure she'd felt earlier had faded. He wasn't gentle and loving now, he was saying swear words that made her cringe and they felt like a betrayal of trust, but still she held onto him, winding her legs around his back and arching herself closer.
It seemed to go on and on, making her sorer with each stroke, but by now he was oblivious to her, grunting and groaning, biting at her neck.
Faster and faster he moved, until she thought she would have to scream, but suddenly he made a low roaring sound and it was over.
She lay there, squashed by his body, feeling damp and decidedly disappointed as his tremors gradually died down. Part of her was thinking 'So that's it, is it? Why do people make so much fuss about it?'
He was still for some moments, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal. For a moment she thought he had fallen asleep.
/> But then he moved onto his side and drew her onto his shoulder.
Only one candle was still alight, flickering under a poster of Jimi Hendrix. She looked at the poster and wondered if Rose had given Miss Peet the message that she was staying with Suzanne.
'That wasn't any good for you, was it?' he asked in a curiously croaky voice.
'It was,' she lied bravely. She didn't want to hurt his feelings.
'Don't tell me fibs,' he said, wriggling away from her and leaning up on his elbow to look down at her.
He looked even more like a pirate or a gypsy now. His lips were very red and slightly swollen, his hair wild and curly.
'Let me make you come now,' he said. 'I want this first night to be beautiful for both of us.'
Camellia couldn't reply. She didn't know what he had in mind and she was a little afraid he would start all over again. But he took her silence as agreement and moved down the bed to kiss her breasts, parting her vagina with his fingers.
'Is it sore?' he whispered. 'I didn't mean to hurt you.'
She forgave him everything then, as he caressed her. Dipping his fingers right into her, then running them back. She held her breath, terrified he would stop, but still he kept on and on, driving her wilder and wilder.
How he got this experience no longer mattered. The ugly room disappeared as she was transported into a world of ecstasy. Suddenly she understood why her mother had kept going with men.
Sensation was the only thing that mattered now: breath hot and heavy, urging him upwards to kiss her, opening her legs wider and pushing his hands harder against her. Something was happening inside her, this great welling up feeling she couldn't control. A million stars twinkling behind closed eyelids, a rocket shooting her upwards to meet them.
'I love you,' she heard herself shout out.
'I think we were meant for one another,' he whispered later in the darkness, as he held her safe in the circle of his arms. The last candle had spluttered out, only a lingering waxy smell remaining. 'Be my chick forever?'
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