by A. J. Lewis
“Give me twenty minutes,” he said, “and then if you really want to thank me, you can buy me a pint in the pub,” he said.
She went up to see Ana. She was watching a TV series and barely seemed to register her presence. “I won't be back late,” she told her.
But in the end she was. Jenny had no idea how the time went so quickly. Bruce was an easy person to talk to and she spoke a lot and at the same time learned a lot about him.
“How do you think the separation will end?” he asked.
“Divorce,” she said, without a pause. “There's no way back now. It's the way it is, even though it's horrible.”
“You can't blame yourself,” he said. “It's clear that you were the victim in all this.”
“No me,” she said, “but Ana. I can't help feeling that she's been let down. Two weeks ago she comes home with a tattoo of a cross, here,” she said, pointing to the base of her neck. “Can you believe that?”
“It's not the same, these days.” he said. “Kinds today get tattoos as often as we bought clothes.”
He went to the bar and got two more drinks. It was after closing time before they finally left and walked slowly back to the guest house.
Chapter Ten
Bruce took two bottle from the kitchen, red for him, white for her, and they sat on the bottom steps of the stairs, whispering loudly and hushing each other, in case they woke the guests.
Jenny nudged her shoulder against him in a drunken pally way and Bruce put his arm around her. She looked at him. He was very handsome, she thought, and then they kissed. When they broke away they continued to look at each other, calmly, knowing that some difficult and important question and been resolved.
“I can walk on my hands across the hall,” said Bruce.
Jenny laughed at the way he had broken the seriousness of the moment. “Don't be ridiculous, at this hour you can barely walk across there on your feet.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“And why would you be able to do that?”
“Army training,” said Bruce.
“Army training,” repeated Jenny. “What's the good of being able to walk on your hands in a war?”
“Confuse the enemy,” said Bruce. “Make them think you've got no head.”
Jenny laughed causing a little wine to go up her nose. “Don't be stupid,” she said.
“Also,” said Bruce, “it's good training for conflict in Australia.”
“Whatever,” said Jenny, “I don't believe you.”
“If I can't do it,” said Bruce, “I'll bring you breakfast in bed, every day of your stay.”
“Done,” said Jenny laughing.
“However,” said Bruce, “if I can do it, you have to do something for me.”
“What's that?” she asked.
“Striptease,” he said.
Jenny nearly spat our her wine. “No way,” she said. “You have to be kidding.”
“Right,” said Bruce, “because you know I can do it.”
Something in his self-satisfied macho attitude irritated Jenny. She looked at the hall. It was a good ten yards long. Then she looked at Bruce. If he had been sober then maybe, just maybe. But now? Wasn't a chance.
“Alright,” said Jenny, “you're on.”
Bruce pretended to spit on his hand and they shook on it. Then he went to the door, did a handstand and walked on his hands the full length of it.
“Damn it,” said Jenny and slapped her palm against her face.
“Always a bit easier when I've had a little to drink,” said Bruce. Jenny laughed as he took her hand and led her up the stairs.
Chapter Eleven
Jenny had never done it like this before. The idea of doing a striptease before Tom would have been ridiculous, but here she was standing before Bruce as he sat on the bed, his glass of wine in hand. Jenny felt the shyness, the panic that grew inside her until she felt almost dizzy. She removed her blouse and placed it on the lamp, bathing her in a soft orange light. That was better, she thought, more forgiving.
Jenny stood in front of him, her self-confidence growing until it bordered on the insolent and astounded at the range of gestures, provocative and sexy that she suddenly found herself capable of. Gestures that, previously, she could only have done knowingly and with a huge slice of irony, she now did slowly, teasingly and she watched Bruce's eyes burn with interest.
When she was done, Jenny stood there for a moment, naked then leaned towards him and kissed him on his mouth hungrily. She placed greedy kisses on his chin, neck and down onto his chest. Jenny could hear his breathing, deep and low. Easily he gripped her waist and raised her up above him so he could kiss her breasts. He found her nipples and worked his tongue back and forth until both became hard. Bruce's towel fell away and she felt the hardness of him beneath her and gasped.
Jenny grabbed his shoulders and kissed his forehead as he pleasured her breasts until she felt she could not enjoy it more. Finally, she released herself from his grasp and returned to kissing his chest, marveling at the muscles working beneath. Jenny went lower, anticipating what it was he wanted but which he could not even put into words. Instead, he moaned again with a mixture of pleasure and desire as if Jenny were sucking all the pain and frustration from his body. At the same time, Jenny let out a soothing sound that resembled a contented purring.
Bruce gripped her waist and she reached around his back, her nails taking his flesh. Their bodies burned together, turning the cool English night into fevered heat of the jungle. As she bent her body over him, Jenny could feel the sweat running down his back and the dampness trickling from her thighs.
He lifted her for a second, holding her so that all her weight was taken by her arms. She remained, teetering on the edge, on the brink of forever. Their eyes were locked together, contemplating the pact they had made. Then she moved down slowly on to him until he was inside her, deeply and there they were very still, gasping at breaths, until, finally, their bodies began to move of their own volition.
The manly heat of him nearly drove her to the edge. Jenny had to concentrate her mind, lest she simply collapse in pleasure and wild laughter. Instead, she managed to think only of him, and focus her mind and body on him and what he needed her to do. Jenny looked for that certain touch or movement or caress that would please him the most. Soon she became lost in that task of creating pleasure until she was only being pleasure and pleasure itself united them.
Bruce held her hips and tensed up towards her, his back and legs rising off the bed like a wave and she rode it, catching her breath, trying to say his name. They were searching, now, for the apex of their meeting and at the point, when it came, she could no longer say anything. Not only was his name gone, her own name own name was lost also. There was no division between them, just the blank canvas of pleasure.
They each were disintegrated with pleasure, she stopped and for a second they held still, caught in the moment, as they had been when they came in, holding each others eyes in a gaze that told each other everything. Then he let his back fall back on the bed and she collapsed easily on top of him.
Chapter Twelve
In the gray, early dawn she felt Bruce leave her. He kissed her on the shoulder and slipped quietly out of the door.
Jenny dozed pleasurably in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She drifted in an out of sleep as dawn crept through the skylight and a parallelogram of light shifted across her bed and alighted on her face.
Jenny woke, rose from bed and had a shower.
She went downstairs, deciding to take advantage of her early start and have breakfast before the other guests were up. To her immense surprise, Ana was already there, eating breakfast and chatting to Razvan.
Ana glanced at her and carried on her conversation, which Jenny judged was about literature. It was a long time since she had heard her daughter talk about her favorite subject.
Razvan leaned languidly against the doorway to the kitchen. He wore his black turtle neck again and it m
ade him look even more languorous than usual. One of his long-fingered hands gently held his temple as he leaned his head to one side. He listened to Ana intently, though at one stage Jenny felt him glance at her and there was the tiniest flash of recognition from those dark eyes.
“Razvan made me a special vegetarian breakfast,” said Ana. “You should try it.”
“What's that then?”
“Poached eggs on a bed of spinach and tomatoes,” said Razvan. “With a few of my own little extra ingredients thrown in,” he smiled, “for pzazz.”
“Sounds very healthy,” said Jenny.
“Yes, you are right,” said Razvan, at his haughty best. “It will give you stamina,” he smiled again, this time the teeth showing. “Stamina for all your exertions,” he added, then disappeared back into the kitchen.
“What were you talking about?” asked Jenny, trying to sound as light as possible.
“Books,” said Ana. “Razvan is very interested in English Literature. Its why he came here.”
“Not to claim benefits then,” said Jenny, pouring herself some of the coffee from the pot on the table.
Ana ignored her. “He even knows the writer Paul Magrs.”
“That's more than I do,” said Jenny.
Ana sighed. “That's because you only read soppy romances and 50 Shades of Gray. Magrs writes a kind of horror. But good horror. Not trashy stuff. Anyway, its all set in Whitby. There's a pair of detectives solving these strange, horrible crimes. You should read it.”
“That type of thing just keeps me awake at night,” said Jenny, stifling a yawn.
“Razvan was saying how the books draw on the strange atmosphere in Whitby.”
“The strange atmosphere?” asked Jenny.
“Razvan says that there is something very strange right at the heart of Whitby. Haven't you noticed it to?”
“I'm not sure,” said Jenny, looking at her daughter.
“Razvan says there may be something in the stones or the landscape that works on our imaginations.”
Razvan says, Razvan says, thought Jenny.
“It has an effect on all the inhabitants and the visitors too. It has an effect, I'm sure of it.” Ana scooped up the last of her poached egg.
“I suppose every place has a special atmosphere,” said Jenny.
Razvan came and brought her breakfast. “Looks and smells wonderful,” she said.
“It will taste just as good,” said Razvan, immodestly. He then presented Ana with a book. “Here is the novel. At the back of the book is a map and I have marked on all the places with supernatural significance.” He beamed at her.
“Thank you,” she said. “That's great.” She turned Jenny. “Mum, I'm going to check out these places before they get busy with tourists. Is that ok?”
“I suppose,” said Jenny.
“I'll take my phone,” said Ana.
Before Ana had finished her breakfast the dining room had filled up with guests, Razvan was back in the kitchen and Bruce was down and taking orders. He edged between the tables checking everyone was starting the day happily. As he moved past Jenny he gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
“Still in bed?” he asked nodding to the empty chair.
“Out already,” said Jenny.
“Very good,” said Bruce. “A coffee by the harbor when I'm done here. About half past ten?” he asked.
Jenny said she would love to.
Chapter Thirteen
She arrived at the cafe before him. It was warm enough to sit outside and Jenny found a table by the harbor wall. Beneath her a fishing boat had just returned and the mornings catch was being lifted in bright plastic boxes. Interested seagulls sat on the wall and watched.
Jenny had enjoyed a nice walk. She had gone up the hill to the cliffs overlooking the sea with the morning breeze in her face. It had blown away the previous night to such an extent she began to wonder if it had all really happened. The second time in a matter of days. It was incredible. It was ridiculous. But was it good? It was exciting, that was for sure. Where it left her, she couldn't really say.
She had walked back to the town till she was overlooking the river. Somewhere up there, near the ruined Abbey, she imagined Ana would be. Jenny wanted to phone her to check she was ok, but knew it was better not to. She had a project. She was happy for the first time for a long while.
Jenny walked on back through the town and her thoughts turned to Razvan and what a very strange creature he was. Strange, but was he harmful. Jenny's instinct told her he was not. She had never met a character more at home in his own strangeness.
As she sat outside the cafe Jenny's thoughts inevitably turned to Bruce and her feelings for him. Last night she had lusted after him as she had lusted after no man since . . . well, since a few days previous.
Jenny laughed at herself. No, that wasn't true. The night with Razvan had been a night of wildness. A night when she was drunk on lust. A night she could barely believe happen and one that left her howling at the moon.
Surely, the night she had enjoyed with Bruce was a different order of things. Jenny looked down at her hands. That was what she wanted, wasn't it. But was it true.
She looked up to see Bruce walking down the road towards her. She smiled to see him in the same black t-shirt that he seemed to have a hundred of. That upright, military march, with his chest out like a barrel. She laughed as she watched him with his solid muscular walk. He saw her and waved, breaking out into that wide, infectious grin and Jenny knew it was mirrored on her own face. She laughed to herself and sent Ana a text to say where they were.
Chapter Fourteen
Bruce bought the coffees to the table.
“Well,” he said, “this is nice.”
Jenny smiled. “It's lovely,” she said. “It's turned out to be quite a holiday. Definitely the break we were looking for. It's taken our mind off things.”
“Ana looks better.”
“She does,” Jenny agreed. “It's almost a shame we have to leave tomorrow.”
“Yes,” said Bruce. “That is a shame.”
Jenny sipped her coffee and when she put it down Bruce laid his hand over hers.
“I've been thinking about that,” he said. “I've been thinking you might like to extend your stay a little.”
“Oh, no,” said Jenny. “We couldn't.”
“Well,” said Bruce, “you probably could. Those rooms are vacant. Its getting to the end of the season. I'm not expecting them to need them now.”
“That's really nice of you, Bruce,” said Jenny. “But, you know, we've budgeted for this holiday and now it's coming to an end and it's time to go.”
“You don't have to pay anything more. This is not me, the guest house owner, speaking now. I'm asking you to stay because I want you to.”
“That's just going to be hassle for you,” said Jenny. “Why would you want that?”
“Why?” Bruce laughed. “Why do you think? Because I like you. You are very attractive and great company.” And then he leaned over the table. “Plus, we just had the most amazing sex ever and I think we owe it to each other to repeat the experience as often as we can before our bodies give out on us.”
Jenny felt herself blush. “Bruce, it's been a great holiday. But a holiday thing is a holiday thing and I'm old enough to know that people can get hurt trying to make it into something it's not.”
Bruce looked downcast. “It might be a holiday fling for you, but that's not how I think of it.” He sipped his coffee. “Razvan will be away in a few days, doing whatever it is he does in the off-season. It would be great to have you hear. I know you love the place.”
“I love the place. But come on, Bruce. We've only just met. I'm in a situation right now. Let's not get carried away,” Jenny said, but even as she said it, she couldn't hep feeling excited. Maybe, just maybe, it could all be possible.
Bruce smiled his disarming smile. “What you say is all very sensible. But it's a possibility, that's all I'm saying. You might
want to consider it, before passing it up.”
Jenny nodded. Over the harbor wall the fish had been unloaded and the boat was empty, even the seagulls found nothing to scavenge. The fishermen had packed up and gone home and would not be back until the next day.
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe we could stay a few more days and see how it goes. But it all depends on Ana. It depends on how she feels. She probably wants to get back to her friends. If she doesn't want to stay, that's it. There's no point trying to persuade her.”
“You can ask her now,” said Bruce, nodding towards the bridge. “Isn't that her on her way.”
“How was your morning?” Jenny asked when Ana reached them.
“Good,” she said, clambering onto a stool. “It was very interesting. There's a lot to see here for such a small town.”
Jenny noticed that she had even caught the sun but decided against saying anything. “I was thinking,” she said, “about staying a little longer. Just a few more days.”
“Sure,” said Ana. “Could I have a coffee?”
Chapter Fifteen
Later they walked down to the beach. They left Ana sitting on a large rock, reading the book Razvan had given her and continued along the shoreline.
“You know that Razvan told me he was a vampire,” said Jenny.
Bruce laughed. “He's very honest about things,” he said. “You just have to take him as he comes. How did you feel about the whole vampire thing? You're not prejudiced, are you?”
“No, I'm tolerant of alternative lifestyles. Anyway, he doesn't seem a very bad vampire. No murdering virgins, or anything.”
“No, he's very much mainstream. More the artistic, literary end of the vampire spectrum. Although you won't see Razvan down here on the beach sunbathing anytime soon. No garlic in the kitchen, that's the major downside.”
“And no steaks, either,” said Jenny.