by Lucy Gordon
"Mmm-" he seemed to consider this "-maybe not all the others."
"But a good few?" she asked, torn between joking and jealousy.
"Enough to know that you're the best. Now hush, I'm concentrating."
She laughed and fell silent, enjoying herself as he treated the other breast to similar caresses until both nipples were proudly peaked. By now they were familiar with each other's bodies, and knew the touches that best pleased. He knew how she loved to be kissed all over, very, very slowly, deferring the ultimate moment of pleasure so that it would be all the more exquisite. She was excited by the thrill it gave him when she ran her fingers lightly over his chest, and down to where he was leaping up to her.
Although she enjoyed his admiration it soon brought her to such a pitch of excitement that she grew impatient and tried to incite him with her own caresses. But he suddenly went into clowning mode, and prevented her firmly and with dignity.
"Madam, please stop that," he said solemnly. "I've been reading a book about foreplay, and I want to practice."
"Was it useful-this book?" she asked, falling in with his game.
"Extremely," he informed her, poker-faced. "Now observe this next bit carefully, because afterward I'm going to ask you questions. And, hush! How can I create a romantic mood if you're giggling?"
He was lazily drifting his fingers along the insides of her thighs, reaching the top, lingering for a shattering moment, before drifting away again. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders as her arousal grew more intense.
"Did the book explain-the significance of that gesture?" she murmured in his ear.
"It's supposed to put you in the mood."
"But if I told you I was already in the mood?"
He became prim. "Then I would say you were a very forward young woman, and I'd be shocked. And the book didn't warn me that you'd do that."
"I'm sorry!"
"I forgive you, but I've lost the place now. I'll check the index."
"You let go of me and you're dead."
"You're not being helpful at all," he complained. "I'm trying to learn the nuances. A man is supposed to be subtle, not just go at it like a bull at a gate. The manual promised that this would make you appreciate me more."
"I could hardly appreciate you more than I already do," she said, fingering the part of him she appreciated most at that moment and trying to guide it toward her. "Luke," she pleaded, "couldn't you skip the subtleties and just charge the gate?''
"Woman, where is your heart of romance?"
"Let's be romantic another time. Tonight I'm feeling very, very basic."
"In that case," he said, settling swiftly between her thighs, "let's charge the gate together."
And they did, taking it fast and furious, so that they ended up breathless and full of glory.
"I think," Pippa said between gasps, "that we demolished the gate that time."
Which made them both laugh so hard that they lost their sense of decorum for the second time that night and clasped each other in a state of fierce delight in which subtlety played no part. Even so, there was still tenderness. Luke entered her in the way she loved the most, slowly but strongly, pro-longing the moment to the full so that she felt the hardness of him filling her up, completing her. And when she met his eyes she found a smile there. Not the laughter of before, when he'd been clowning, but a glow that told her they were at one. She smiled back, full of a joy that went beyond physical pleasure, and knowing that there was only him in all the world.
Pippa always remembered that night, because at some point sex became lovemaking. At least, that's what happened for her. How or when it changed, or why it happened just then, was a mystery. But what had been a joyous game with a prize every time, became deeper, more poignant. The prize was still there, as sweet as ever, but suddenly there was a price to be paid. This wasn't just the man who brought her sexual delight. He was the man who laid his head against her breast and fell asleep, as though he trusted her totally, so that she melted with tenderness and a mysterious pleasurable ache.
They had never spoken of love. It was all part of being in a modern relationship, with no strings. You each lived your own life and passed on. But suddenly love was there, awkward, inconvenient, getting in the way of your plans, and unwanted, since he was a man who wouldn't be tied down, and love equaled strings. Right?
But he was asleep now, so she could whisper, "Sorry, darling. I went back on the deal. I wish I could tell you, but you'd be scared stiff. Never mind. My problem, not yours. It's all a laugh, isn't it? Oh Luke, Luke!"
Among other things Pippa adored Luke for his sweet temper. The only time she could recall seeing him disgruntled was when she was dressing to go out one Saturday, without inviting him, or even telling him where she was going.
"The first Saturday we've both had off for ages and you vanish," he grumbled. "And you're dressing up, as if it's somewhere special." He looked suspiciously at the clinging jersey dress in a brilliant cerise, that only she could have carried off. "It's not like you to keep secrets."
"It's only a little secret."
"So what's the big deal about telling me?" He scowled suddenly. "Who is he?"
"His name's Frank, and he's my uncle, and I'm going to his wedding."
"Great!" he sulked. "I'm not good enough to meet your family!"
"Don't be silly, darling. I just thought it would bore you. A wedding, solid family gathering, men in formal suits, women in hats. I know that sort of thing gives you nightmares.''
"I'd rather put up with it than not see you all day."
"Luke, are you sure? You know what'll happen if we go together-"
"People will simper and ask when you're going to make an honest man of me. Don't worry, we'll tell them you're keeping me as a pet. Will your father and Clarice be there?"
"No, they moved away a few months ago."
"So, let's be on our way." He kissed her. "If you think I'm letting you go anywhere, looking so pretty, without me, you're crazy."
From somewhere he produced a suit, borrowed his friend's old car and they were soon on their way. Her heart was singing with joy. She hadn't invited him, determined not to repeat the mistake that had frightened him off other girlfriends. But he was coming, anyway, because he was jealous. He was actually jealous! It was too good to be true.
They reached Frank's house just before noon and found him calm and well prepared. He owned a small corner shop that was modestly prosperous. Gravity had settled on him early in life, and he looked ten years older than his actual age, which was thirty.
Pippa gave him an exuberant hug, and he kissed her with quiet affection. When the introductions were over she demanded, "Why aren't you pacing the floor with nerves, like a normal bridegroom?''
"What is there to be nervous about?" he asked, mildly surprised. "Elly's organized everything down to the last detail. She's wonderful at that."
"Is that the best he can say about the woman he's marrying?" Luke muttered in her ear.
"Frank doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve," she muttered back. But aloud she couldn't resist saying, "Honestly, Frank, it's not decent to be so cool and composed. You might at least be gnawing your fingers about whether Elly will show up at the church, or fretting that you aren't good enough for her."
He looked bewildered for a moment, then smiled and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "You will have your little joke," he said tolerantly. "I'm so glad you're here, my dear."
Elly was a plump, comfortable widow, a couple of years his senior. Pippa had met her before and liked her, thinking how perfectly she suited him.
They reminded her of a couple of dormice, not exciting, but cosy and content together.
Near the end of the reception Elly took Pippa aside and said, archly, "Such a very handsome young man! When will we hear wedding bells for you?"
"You won't," Pippa said. To her relief Luke was on the other side of the room swapping funny stories with the best man.
"But anyone
can see you two are crazy about each other," Elly protested.
Pippa discovered that she didn't have her heart under such perfect control as she'd hoped, otherwise the suggestion that Luke was crazy about her wouldn't have made it leap like that. But she assumed a worldly-wise air.
"I'm eighteen. I've got a lot of road to travel before I'm ready to settle down."
"You mean he hasn't asked you?"
"I mean that every little fling doesn't have to end in marriage these days. Neither Luke or I care about doing the conventional thing. Elly, honestly, I'm really happy for you and Frank. I think you're perfect together. But things are different for my generation."
To which Elly simply replied, "Hmm!" with a look of disconcerting shrewdness in her baby-blue eyes.
Frank and Luke talked for a conscientious ten minutes, but both were relieved when it was over. Frank was kind and well-meaning, but he was also pompous and narrow-minded, and before she left he said firmly to Pippa, "That young man isn't at all suitable for you, my dear. I'm afraid I'd have to call him rackety."
"He's twenty-three," Pippa said incensed. "Weren't you rackety when you were his age?"
He was shocked. "Certainly not!"
"Well, you should have been! Everyone should be rackety at twenty-three. He's got years and years to be responsible."
"You sound as though you're quoting him," Frank said, scoring a bull's-eye and momentarily throwing her off balance. "Don't give him your heart, Pippa. He'll only break it."
She tried to sound nonchalant. "Maybe I'll break his."
"I hope so. But I'm afraid the world doesn't work that way."
"Oh, Frank, don't be so stuffy! I'm having a wonderful time with Luke. Who cares about tomorrow?" She flitted away before he could say any more. She couldn't cope with Frank's disconcerting insights.
As they lay in each other's arms that night, Luke kissed her and said, "I'm afraid Frank and I bring out the worst in each other."
"I know. He said you were rackety. I told him he should have been rackety at your age."
Luke shouted with laughter. "I wish I could have seen his face. It's not his way, any more than pipe and slippers are mine."
"Who wants pipe and slippers?" she murmured, beginning to nibble him. "There are other things
"Mmm?" He lay back and stretched luxuriously one arm behind his head, one leg carelessly raised giving her the slow, significant smile she loved. "Why don't you tell me about these other things?"
"Aren't you going to give me any help?"
"Nope. I'm just going to lie here and let you have your wicked way with me." He yawned provocatively. "I may even fall asleep."
"Over my dead body! Or yours!"
He grinned. "Woman, are you going to seduce me, or are you going to sit there and yak all night?''
"I'm going to seduce you," she whispered. "But first I'm going to enjoy just looking at you."
She drew back and feasted her eyes on him. Luke's shoulders weren't broad or heavy with muscles, and his strength was of the whipcord variety, so apart from his height he wasn't physically splendid: not if you were only looking. But Pippa wasn't only looking. She was remembering, too, and her memories were delicious.
"You're a shameless woman," he murmured.
"I know," she said as she trailed her hand over his smooth chest. "It's more fun that way. Don't you think?"
"If you put it like that," he said, speaking with difficulty, "then yes."
She chuckled and began to kiss him, his mouth first, then his neck, little tickling kisses that drew a growl from his throat. His hands began to go into action, but she stopped them.
"I'm supposed to be seducing you, remember?"
"Well, you've seduced me now," he said, grinning. "Let's get on to the next bit."
"Wait," she said, fending him off. "Learn to be patient."
"To hell with that. If it's worth waiting for, I want it now.'' He began touching her with little tickling movements that sent sensation flowing over her skin. He was a devil who knew she couldn't hold out when she did that.
"What about that book?" she demanded, feeling herself drowning in sensation. "Foreplay, and all that."
"I've gone on to the next chapter," he said cheekily.
"Well I-haven't." Putting out all her strength she tossed him onto his back. He was surprised enough to let her win, and lay watching her out of glinting eyes that held a warning. He would enjoy her teasing, but he was far from tame. His proud, upstanding member proclaimed that.
She lightly touched the part of him she wanted most, thinking blissfully ahead but heightening the pleasure by deferring it. By now she knew how steely was Luke's control. He was ready, but he could stay ready for a long time. It was a kind of mutual teasing that they had perfected, and it thrilled her to know that she could excite him that much. Her fingers moved again, caressing and enjoying, loving the feel of him in her hand.
"You're playing with fire," he murmured.
"I know. That's how I like it best."
"Now, Pippa."
"Not…quite…now. Hey!" For he had returned the compliment, tossing her onto her back and coming over her swiftly.
"I said now," he told her firmly against her mouth. "Unless you want to dispute the point."
"Mmm. What point was that?"
Thought was becoming impossible as she felt him part her thighs. Then he was there between them, finding her, sliding into her. She was almost sobbing with pleasure, wrapping her legs and arms about him with fierce intent. Of all the delights in the world there was only this that really mattered, having your man inside you, feeling the heat of him, smelling his warm, spicy skin, giving yourself to him a thousandfold and taking from him all he had to give. When her moment of release came, she made a sound like a cry of triumph.
As they lay blissfully together afterward, Pippa suddenly exploded with uncontrollable laughter.
"What? What?" he asked, already beginning to laugh with her.
"What we just did-" she choked.
"You've never found it funny before."
"No, not us-Frank and Elly-"
He buried his face against her, and making muffled sounds while his shoulders shook. "Don't," he begged at last. "I can't laugh any more. It hurts. Anyway, perhaps they won't bother."
"Oh, they will. They want lots of children, and Frank believes that everything should be done properly. I suppose we shouldn't laugh. It isn't kind."
"We're not doing them any harm," he gasped. "And he's such a-oh, Lord, perhaps I should have loaned him my book."
"Then he could make a list-and-and tick it-as he-"
And they were off again, clinging to each other in an agony of mirth. The world was theirs, and from their lofty perch of bliss they could afford a little pity for middle-aged people who thought they knew what life was about.
Chapter Four
At the start, four months had seemed to stretch out endlessly ahead, time enough for Luke to see that they belonged together forever. But then four months became three, two, then one, and suddenly it was only a couple of weeks before his work permit expired.
He sat up in bed beside her one night, breathless from the fray, and said, "Oh, baby, I'm going to miss you when I'm gone."
It took just that long for her world to fracture and collapse. He wasn't planning to take her back to the States with him. He'd just told her so. Tactfully, kindly, but unmistakably.
The sound of her own voice amazed her. It didn't sound like someone who was fighting not to scream "Not long now, is it?"
"Two weeks."
Not as much as that, she thought. One week and five days. She knew it by heart.
He rolled over and looked down at her. "We've had some great times, haven't we?"
"Wonderful, but-" she took her courage in her hands "-do they really need to end?"
The light was poor, but just enough for her to see the sudden tension in his face. She hastened to add, "I mean-you could get an extension."
"Oh,
that. No, my time is up and your Immigration Department won't extend it. I did ask. No dice."
So he wanted to stay with her, she thought, clutching at straws. There was still time for him to ask her to go with him. But the time slipped by without a word, and suddenly it was the last day, and his plane was leaving at noon.
She went with him to the airport, and they sat sipping coffee while they waited for his call. There was a pain in the middle of her chest, like a heavy stone, and she didn't know how it was possible to endure that pain and keep smiling, but somehow it was. He was going, and he was happy about it. She didn't have to ask to know that his heart wasn't breaking. His thoughts had already leaped ahead to California.
She went with him to the gate, and at the last minute he threw his arms about her in a bear hug. "I'll never forget you, Pippa."
"Yes, you will," she said merrily. "There'll be some beauty in the next seat. You'll take one look at her and I'll vanish."
Deny it! Please deny it!
"Wretch!" he said, tweaking her nose. "That's what you think of me, is it?"
"This is the last call for-"
"That's it! Gotta go! Bye, baby. Be happy."
One last peck on her cheek and he was gone. Pippa watched him walking jauntily away, and although he turned for a final wave, she knew that she had already passed out of his life.
She forced herself to leave at once. She would not, would not become one of those pathetic creatures who stared at a space long after it was empty, as though expecting the person to reappear. Luke wouldn't turn back. She knew that. And she had too much pride to hang on hopelessly.
Sitting on the subway train on the journey home, she actually cheered up. She had always known this would happen, Luke had never made any secret of his departure date or the fact that there was no room for permanence in his life. They were both modern, liberated people who'd enjoyed a fling and would now get on with their lives.
She was pleasantly surprised to find herself coping so well. She smiled as she entered the guest house, stopped for a chat with Ma and went jauntily on to her room. Once, their room, now hers alone.
Alone.
The word was like the tolling of a bell, and it caught her off guard, just when she thought she was managing nicely. The smiles, the jauntiness and the bravery fell away as swiftly as discarded clothes, leaving her cold and trembling with shock. It was as much as she could do to lock the door before sliding to the floor in an agony of weeping.