She did as she was told, then Alan swept up the empties and, with the use of his powerful shoulders and some graceful manoeuvering, soon found himself at the bar. Meanwhile, Gary had drawn his chair closer to Tilly's and Connie watched them whispering, heads close together. So that's the way it's to be, she thought, reaching for the cigarettes. She had just inserted one between her lips when a hand was before her face, steadily holding a lighter. She looked up and saw Alan.
'Thanks,' she said coolly, and blew smoke into the air. He sat down and raised his glass. 'To you,' he toasted.
She smiled and drank. He suddenly leaned forward and Connie, not knowing what to expect, taken unawares, reacted by jerking back her head.
'Don't be scared,' he said, in his slow, sure way. 'I was jest going to feel your hair. It's been a long time since we seen such good-looking gals, a man gets to forget what a woman is like, being on board so long.'
She sat motionless, back erect, while he gently smoothed her long hair with his fingertips.
'Soft,' he murmured, 'like silk. Has anyone ever told you what beautiful hair you've got, Connie?' He looked at her then laughed. 'I guess they have,' he added easily.
The corners of her lips raised in a small smile. 'What's the name of your ship, Alan?'
'I'd rather talk about you,' he returned lazily. 'What do you do for a living?'
'I'm a secretary.'
'Uhuh.'
He didn't pursue the opening, not that she blamed him: most people thought office work boring anyway.
'You got a pad near here, Connie?'
'Pad?'
'Flat, home, apartment, whatever you call it.'
'Oh, not far. I've got a room in a boarding house; Tilly lives there too.'
He crossed his arms across his broad chest and cocked his head on one side! 'How would it be if we all went back there and had a small party?'
She smiled ruefully. 'It wouldn't do at all. Mrs Withers, that's the landlady, doesn't like strangers in our rooms.'
'I'd be quiet as a mouse.'
She noticed that the 'we' had turned to 'I' and looked amused.
'I don't think so,' she said firmly, and noted that he seemed a little taken aback by her negative answer. She supposed he wasn't used to being denied anything by girls for, she had to admit, although he wasn't handsome in the conventional sense, his looks were striking, and she sensed in him a kind of animal magnetism that was very compelling, an aura of self-confidence and self-assurance.
Thinking it over, she realised she'd said no to him, not because she was particularly worried about Mrs Withers' rules and regulations, but just because she felt like deflating his ego a little. And she didn't want to get too involved with this man. Here today and gone tomorrow, he had virtually said so himself, and what could he offer except perhaps .a diversion? She felt she could really get to like him and could tell, see it in his eyes, that he fancied her. Yet why encourage him, she thought, as she listened to him talking with the others. He's the type that would fancy any pretty girl for a night but wouldn't commit himself to anyone, and where would that leave me? And he seems to be ambitious, not the kind of man who would settle down easily in marriage until he'd achieved what he wanted from life. Still, every man wants to settle down sometime and ... Oh, hell, here I go again, getting all serious, when I promised myself I wouldn't.
The four of them chatted amiably for a while, drank steadily, smoked too much, and soon the influence of the whisky, plus the lively atmosphere in the pub had them all laughing, relaxed, and in a friendly mood as if they had known each other for years. Connie wondered whether she was drinking too much. Her face felt hot and she knew her cheeks must have turned a bright pink. Sound had begun to take on an echo-like quality and she felt as if she weren't quite solid, as if she were dreaming and nothing had substance. An inner voice warned Connie to stop now, while she was still in control, but the two men kept plying her with drinks. A glance at her friend showed Connie that Tilly was in her element, certainly not in any mood to be restrained.
It must be easy to be like her, Connie mused; never bothered about the future but living each day as it came and forgetting it as it went.
Connie was well aware that Alan was deliberately trying to get her stoned, and it pleased her to think that she realised his intention. When he leaned forward time and again to brush back her hair, or gently murmur that they ought to go some. where more peaceful, she merely laughed, and shook her head. She knew it was teasing him, but it was all part of the game. She lost count of the number of glasses they had emptied when Tilly suddenly said loudly, in a not too distinct voice: 'Gary 'ere wants to go back to my place to cool orf a bit.'
'What about you know who?' Connie interrupted, blinking to get the girl into focus.
'Stuff Ma Withers,' Tilly giggled. 'More'n likely she's got a bloke of 'er own closeted away. She don'.t bother me none,' she went on rashly, 'never caught me yet, and what if she does? She ain't gonna get rid of a regular-paying tenant so quick, not 'er, not ole greedy guts.' She chuckled, then added, 'Anyway, she wouldn't get anyone else to live in that 'ole so quick, but if she does chuck me out, I can find a better place'n that pigsty any day.'
'I still don't think it's a good idea,' Connie said unsteadily, not looking at Alan, but feeling his eyes boring into her.
'Don't be so bleedin' wet all the time,' Tilly retorted rudely, and then went on in a wheedling voice, 'Aw, come on, kid.'
'You go, you and Gary ... '
Tilly drew in a sharp breath. 'Gary says he won't be parted from his buddy and, experienced as I am, I can't manage two tonight, but that don't mean I don't want any. Give over, Connie, don't be such a wet blanket, you'll spoil the party. Do us all a favour, eh?'
She hesitated, then reluctantly Connie nodded and Gary patted her back approvingly before standing up to help Tilly on with her coat. Connie looked at Alan quickly and saw the satisfied, rather smug smile flicker across his face before he wiped it off when he saw her eyes narrow, yet she knew he had wanted her to see. It was definitely a game of wills.
'I won't eat you,' Alan whispered as he helped Connie up off the chair by her arm.
'You don't scare me.'
His eyebrows raised mockingly and his black eyes danced with hidden amusement. She felt dizzy as she stood up, and automatically leant against Alan for a second. She felt his arms steady her while she regained her sense of balance.
'Do you want me to carry you? I could you know,' he said.
'I'm sure you're as strong as you look, but I can walk,' she replied stiffly, and led the way out without looking back at him. They paired off. Tilly and Gary walked in front, their arms around each other's waists, her head resting on his shoulder. Connie felt Alan slide his arm around her own waist.
'I can support myself, thank you,' she snapped.
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
Gary looked back at them over his shoulder. 'I should've bought some Bourbon, Al.'
'Don't fret, I've got a bottle of booze in my room,' Tilly put in. 'I 'ope you won't mind drinkin' outa mugs, boys ... '
'I don't care how it enters me, as long as it goes down,' Alan answered and replaced his arm around Connie. She Jet it stay, defeated.
The talk died down as they reached the house and then, with her finger over her lips, and with exaggerated hushing sounds, Tilly told them to be quiet. But, trying to find her front door key, she emptied the contents of her bag on to the pavement with a clatter. She giggled a little hysterically and hiccuped.
'Give over,' Connie hissed, looking alarmed as she stared up at the building for signs of lights being switched on. 'You'll wake the whole neighbourhood.'
They all helped to retrieve Tilly's scattered belongings, and Connie fished in her own bag for her key.
'Move over,' she commanded, bending down to peer with comical ferociousness at the keyhole, 'let mat it.'
The front door creaked as they pushed it open and crept inside like stealthy burglars. Connie wa
rily eyed the door on her right, but it remained shut, and there was .no sound or movement from within. Feeling their way in the pitch blackness, they groped their way noiselessly to the staircase and, gripping the hand-rail, moved upstairs, trying to contain their laughter. Connie could feel Alan's hot breath on her neck as he came up directly behind her, and somehow his very closeness made her feel weak. Her legs trembled, her stomach tightened. He seemed to sense it and softly, without any irony in his tone, asked her if she was feeling OK. A little shakily she replied she was:
They made it into Tilly's room without disturbing the household and there they all collapsed weakly on to the sagging bed. Wriggling out from under Gary's legs, Tilly crept over to a battered coffee table and switched on a lamp that threw an orange glow into the room.
'Right,' she announced gleefully, ''hang on and I'll find the booze.'
While she filled cups from a nearly full bottle, Gary loped over to the record player.
'Mrs Withers will hear,' Connie exclaimed, then stopped as Alan put his hand over her mouth.
'No she won't,' he said, but turned to his friend. 'Keep it down, Gary,' he said authoritatively. 'We don't want to be the cause of having the little ladies thrown out on to the streets.' He turned back to smile at Connie, and his expression asked whether that was all right with her.
She smiled back. Then, aware how close he was to her, sprawled on the bed, she edged away from him.
He suddenly bared his teeth and gave a low growl, making her jump. Alan fell back on the bed and erupted into a fit of laughter. Connie glared at him in annoyance, and then she made a face.
'Idiot,' she told him.
'Should've seen your face,' he gasped, and then they were quiet as Tilly told them in ungentle terms to shut their mouths. Tilly handed around the drinks and, for a while, as the music played softly in the background, they chatted and exchanged jokes and stories, the men having many lurid ones to tell. Then Alan stood up, rested his mug on a chair, and asked Tilly to dance. As they swayed to the music, Alan's hands firmly resting on the girl's hips, Connie watched them, experiencing a feeling she could only describe to herself as a rebuff. She looked at him closely as the couple swung around, wondering if he would acknowledge her, but to her disappointment, he was gazing deeply into Tilly's eyes as she spoke to him. When Gary slouched over to ask her to dance, Connie stood up with a flouncing movement and clung to his neck. When the music ended, Gary's forehead was shiny with perspiration as he stared down at her tilted face and partly opened lips.
'You sure do dance swell... Connie.' He recalled in time that the name was not Tilly. Connie smiled up at him, sweetly forgiving.
'You too,' she murmured huskily.
Tilly flipped the disc and, as the music began again, Gary made as if to ask Connie to dance a second time, but Tilly wiggled her hips over to him.
'Ain't you gonna dance with me? I thought you was my guy,' she pouted.
They danced, and Connie stared as the other girl started to do strange things with her hips. Connie reached under the bed for her mug, found it, and tilted it to her lips too quickly. The whisky flowed out and trickled down her'chin. She coughed and wiped her throat.
'You trying to drown yourself, honey?'
She twisted to see Alan smiling down at her. She shrugged and finished drinking until the mug was empty.
'Would you like to dance now?' he asked, seemingly unabashed by her having deliberately ignored him.
She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
'If you want,' she said airily, but felt a surge of excitement at the thought of his holding her. She knew that her feeling for him was dangerous.
He didn't hold her tightly to him, but gently, as if she were delicate porcelain, too fragile to be manhandled. That got her; Connie wanted him to be rough, wanted him to prove just how strong and masculine he was. She pressed herself against him, grinding her hips against the tops of his thighs deliberately.
'What's the hurry?' he said blandly.
She screwed up her face, nonplussed, and wanted to hit him.
The other two had stopped dancing and were sitting on the bed. When Connie glanced at them a minute later, they were lying there, kissing. She felt embarrassed and, for a while, she and Alan didn't talk. She listened to the music, humming to herself, while she could feel the heat from his body warming her, smell a faint musky sweat under his jacket. Connie closed her eyes dreamily, allowing herself to relax in his arms as he rested his cheek against her head.
When Connie next opened her eyes, she saw Gary lying almost on top of Tilly, his hand inside her blouse. Startled, Connie stood still and Alan looked at her, puzzled. Then he, too, turned his head.
'If they keep that pace up,' he whispered, 'I don't think they'll be wanting us around in a few minutes.'
'It's crude.'
He cupped her chin in his hands and her violet eyes turned on him.
'Let's get out of here, Connie, what do you say? Where's your room, honey?'
'Opposite. but ... '
'Come on,' he ordered, taking her by the hand, but she hung back.
'We mustn't ... '
'Your friend doesn't want you around, can't you see that!' Without further comment, Alan tugged the unresponsive girl to the door.
'All the same, maybe you'd better go,' she said feebly, not looking at him.
'And kill the party? Gary would come with me, but he wouldn't want to,' Alan said curtly, his eyes angry. 'What's the matter with you anyway?'
'Nothing ... nothing.'
'Then shut up!'
She didn't dare argue but trailed after him. They crossed the hallway, and Connie unlocked her door. He went through first and she pressed back against the door once inside, her heart beating uncomfortably, and stared at him with round and worried eyes.
He roamed around, looking at things.
'Neat,' he murmured. 'Very tidy. You'd hardly believe that anyone actually lived here.' He turned to her. 'Are you always so perfect?'
'It's my upbringing,' she replied, on the defensive, and went to sit on the bed. She watched him pause by her dressing table.
'Everything in its place, and a place for everything, eh? Compared to your buddy back there, you're a proper little lady, aren't you?'
She didn't say anything. He sat beside her. Alan picked up one of her hands and idly smoothed the skin with his thumb. 'You're really still a kid, aren't you?' he remarked, meaning it kindly.
'Why aren't you at home with your folks where you belong?'
Roughly she pulled her hand back. 'I don't have any. I've been in care all my life.'
He heard the sourness and placed the palm of his hand against her cheek, almost tenderly. He didn't reply for a minute, then traced the contours of her face with his finger.
'Whoever she was, I'd say your mother was a classy female, a real lady, perhaps.'
'What makes you say that?' Connie asked, curious in spite of herself. 'How can you tell?'
'Bone structure,' he said seriously. 'You've got a fine, aristocratic bone structure. Comes with breeding.'
She couldn't help smiling. He suddenly bent and kissed her, almost chastely.
'Been wanting to do that all evening,' Alan said.
'Did I say you should stop?' she said levelly.
He hesitated to see if she meant it, then pulled her to him. This time he held her as if he would crush her bones. crush the very life from her. She met his kiss willingly with her lips parted and ready for his probing tongue which wormed past her teeth. They sucked at each other's mouths feverishly, slowly falling backwards on the bed. She couldn't think straight. She could only feel what was happening to her. Alan's lips left hers and worked downwards to her neck, his left hand pressing her shoulders flat while his right snaked up her dress to rest on her thighs. Connie moaned and, covering his hand with her own over her dress, pressed it even harder against her, shivering a little as he stroked the satiny skin.
'A good bone structure isn't all you've
got,' he murmured, nuzzling against her. She felt him pulling at her pants, so arched her body until they were off. She raised her head to look at him and saw his eyes feasting on her bare lower half. She didn't feel shame, she wasn't conscious of thinking. Connie twitched her hips and then he was stroking the soft downy triangle between her legs. She shuddered, her head falling back on to the bed. Then she heard him speak and weakly raised her head.
'Wh ... what?'
' ... I said, the American half of me is the randy half which makes me want to bury myself in you as fast as I can, and the Japanese half tells me to take my time so that I can appreciate all this loveliness before I do.' He laughed softly, then stopped as he heard her say:
'I thought you were part Jap.'
'Did you.' His voice had gone cold, but she hadn't noticed.
'Is it your mother, or your father who's the Jap?'
She didn't realise how it sounded to him.
'It's not important ... '
'They have weird-sounding surnames, don't they? What's yours, Alan?'
'Ho,' he said shortly.
She echoed it incredulously. 'Ho? As in, ho, ho?' Suddenly, in her drunken state, it struck her as extremely funny and she burst out laughing.
'I don't think it's so amusing,' Alan said crisply, but her laughter only grew more uncontrollable.
'Ho, Ho!' she gasped. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was convulsed until it hurt and her sides ached.
'Shut your damned mouth!' Alan said furiously. He pulled away from her and sat up.
Still laughing, but now trying to check it, Connie reached for him. 'Don't be so sensitive,' she said.
He glowered at her. 'I don't like people making fun of me!'
She breathed deeply to steady herself. 'Sorry, but I couldn't help it. Come on, don't look like that. Don't spoil things, Alan.'
'You've spoiled things,' he said curtly.
'I said I was sorry, didn't I? Aw, please, stop looking like a bear and come here ... 'She tugged at his arm.
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