“Wow!” The word slipped out of me without my agreement. His penis was erect and I confess to being a little startled by its size. Nigel was not so well endowed.
“I'm pleased that I meet with your majesty's approval,” he said, his eyes alight with humor. “I am, of course, at your service."
“God, I hope so."
My fingers itched to wander over his naked flesh but I felt a little foolish now, in my dress. Hesitantly, I stood up and began to lift the cotton fabric above my head. The bra came with it and both pieces dropped to the floor with a soft sigh. Totally bare, I could not quite meet Jack's gaze, which seemed to me to perhaps be just the tiniest bit ... appreciative. But that might have been wishful thinking. His erection certainly didn't plummet.
He held out his arms to me. “Forget the sweatsuit. This is the way you ought to be cuddled."
Jack drew me down to him, his hands sensuously stroking my arms, his lips seeking my breasts. New waves of desire swirled through me. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back. He slipped one leg between mine, and I could feel the throb of his penis against my thigh. Our pace had speeded considerably with the disrobing, and I touched a shaking finger to his cheek.
“You'll need to use a condom, Jack."
“My dear, I'm a very cautious man. I promise you don't need to worry about my health."
“But I need to worry about pregnancy."
He frowned. “Pregnancy. You don't use birth control?"
“No.” I wanted to say more, but couldn't manage to find the right words. “I wasn't expecting this. I didn't bring anything."
“Mandy, I've been celibate for the better part of a year. I didn't expect this either, and I don't have a condom."
“I thought men always expected this,” I grumbled. “How old is your son?"
“Luke? Seventeen."
“Look in his room."
“That's ridic...” he started to say, and then he nodded. “Right. I remember seventeen. Always hopeful.” He rose and admonished me, “Don't go away."
“I'm not going anywhere."
Chapter Eleven
Watching him cross the room and take the stairs two at a time was a rare treat. When he glanced over the balcony, he blew me a kiss. My throat contracted with an ache entirely different from the pounding one in the rest of my body. That was the way it should be between a man and a woman, that playful, loving sense of happiness and expectancy. Did other couples really have that in long marriages? Or did their desire for each other mostly dwindle and finally die?
My eyes filled with tears which I desperately fought back. This was not the time or place for mourning my marriage. Right now I was being offered pleasure that I hadn't experienced in so long I'd forgotten how it felt. A man to hold me, to stroke me, to excite me and satisfy me. A willing man, a generous man.
“What is it?” Jack asked gently, crouching in front of me. “Why are you crying?"
“It's nothing,” I said, angrily rubbing away the moisture with my fists. “Did you find one?"
He held a foil package out on the palm of his hand. “But you've changed your mind, haven't you?"
“No!”
The word came out too loud and desperate, and Jack cocked his head at me. “I've been thinking about it, too, Mandy. You're married. Do you and your husband have some understanding about while you're away for so long?"
I sighed miserably. “Maybe. He offered me a separation. I don't know. It was confusing. But we don't have a real marriage anymore, either. I promise you, this is my decision. This is my body, and I'm in a position to decide what's right for me."
“You told me earlier that you've never committed adultery."
“Yes, but this is different."
“Is it?” He brushed the hair back from my eyes, gently running his fingers around my face. “I don't think I'd have found you here crying if you were certain about what you wanted."
“But I am. The tears have nothing to do with you."
“They have to do with Nigel. I heard you tell him you loved him this morning."
“And he told me to have a nice weekend."
Not quite grasping my meaning, Jack said, “I don't think that meant he was giving you permission to have sex with some other man."
“I don't need his permission,” I replied stubbornly. This was a bizarre conversation to be having, me naked on the sofa and him crouching in front of me. Time to come to the crux of the matter. “Would you rather not make love with me, Jack?"
He groaned and shifted onto the sofa. Lying down the length of it, he pulled me tightly against his body. “I don't want to do anything you'll regret, Mandy. Maybe you're just doing this to prove something to him or to yourself. Maybe you'd regret it later. I don't want to be responsible for that."
So why had he moved us into this incredibly provocative position? Every part of me seemed to be touching some interesting part of him. My face nestled against the roughness of his shadow beard. My breasts pressed against the tingly hair on his chest. My arms and legs wrapped around the firm length of him. His penis, fully rigid, strained against my belly.
“Hold me,” I whispered.
But he drew back slightly, his hands leaving my buttocks. When I realized he was putting on the condom, I thought he had decided for both of us. Elation filled my heart. My body, held in check until then, burst forth into a tempest of desire. Every nerve ending seemed to acknowledge an intransigent need. Every part of me felt gloriously lush with longing. Jack drew me back down to him, his penis poking between my legs.
And that is where it stayed. He never tried to enter me, but thrust in a manner that rubbed back and forth against my clitoris, bringing me perilously close to climax. “It's all right,” I said.
He merely smiled and lowered his lips to my breast. The combination was too much for me. All hell let loose in my body, as though I were ricocheting between bursts of startlingly bright lights and exotic, exquisite sensations of pleasure. Jack held me tightly but continued to thrust between my legs until his own release came. His face was a marvel of open enjoyment. He kissed my cheeks and my nose and my lips.
“Heavy petting,” he said, with a touch of irony. “I told you I was feeling like a teenager."
“And a very responsible one at that.” I felt the tears sting at my eyes again. “We are pleased, Dr. Hunter."
“Thank you, ma'am. I'm delighted to have been of service to you."
* * * *
Contrary to my expectation, I slept soundly, alone in my own bed. In the morning Jack knocked on the door and I told him to come in. Too sleepy still to know what to expect from his being there, I was neither surprised nor disappointed when he asked if I'd like to go canoeing.
“If you want to come, you'll have to get up now,” he said, standing at the end of my bed in khaki shorts with cargo pockets on his thighs and a red and green plaid shirt. “This is the best time of day. It isn't raining, but it's going to be overcast."
Propping myself up on one elbow I said, “I like canoeing, but I'm hungry, Jack."
He grinned. “I'll pack us food. You won't starve."
“They all say that,” I muttered. “I can be ready in ten minutes. Is there some hot coffee?"
“Already in the thermos, but I'll pour you a cup.”
“Thanks.” When he didn't turn to leave, I asked, “Was there something else?"
He shook his head but said, “I don't want there to be any awkwardness about last night."
“We'll manage."
* * * *
As I passed through the living room in what I hoped were appropriate beige pants and a green turtleneck jumper, I couldn't help but grin at the memory of the previous evening. Only by a strong effort of will did I resist picking up the pair of underpants I could see peeking out from under the sofa. They must have been Jack's because I'd made it to my room with everything we'd removed from me, including the scarf.
Jack glanced up from the oilcloth-covered table where he was making
sandwiches with the lunch meats he'd bought the previous day. “Sandwiches okay? I'm making a whole stack of them."
“Sure."
He poured a cup of coffee from the large thermos and handed it across, a little careful not to make too much contact with me. And I'd hoped he'd give me a good morning kiss, even if it was platonic. “How about a slice of toast and jam before we leave?” he suggested.
“Good idea.” I fixed it myself and as I was happily crunching the toast, I couldn't help asking, “Did you eat anything?"
“Cereal, toast, coffee, yogurt and a piece of fruit."
“Well, that should keep you."
“Sarcasm becomes you."
I sighed. “So I've been told."
He placed a mountain of food in his knapsack and put his arms through the straps. Though he wasn't particularly tall, he seemed to tower over me there in the kitchen. For a long moment he stared down at me, his eyes alight with warmth. Now, I thought, he's going to kiss me, and it isn't going to be platonic. But all he said was, “You're going to need a jacket until it warms up."
Because he considered my jacket “too good” for this expedition, he handed me one of his own and I burrowed into it as we walked out into the cool morning air. His pace was a little fast for me, but I hurried to keep up, not saying anything. In the boathouse there were also a windsurf board, a kayak, water-skis, and life jackets hanging on the wall, but we concerned ourselves only with the canoe. Together we carried it to the dock and lowered it into the water.
Jack stopped to size me up. “How well do you swim? Do we need a life jacket for you? I always bring flotation pillows."
“I swim extremely well, though I'd hate to have to do it this early in May in an ice-cold lake. The flotation pillows will be adequate."
There was no way for him to avoid helping me into the canoe. With one hand he gripped the canoe to the dock and with the other he steadied me by the arm. Fortunately, I had significantly improved my sense of balance recently and gaining my seat was no problem. He handed in his backpack and then carefully lowered himself into the space at the rear of the canoe. We each picked up a paddle and I set our pace by stroking smoothly along the port side.
For some time we said nothing, merely learning the strength of each other's strokes and the rhythm we set up together. Docks and houses were scattered at intervals along the lake, though the houses appeared to be set back farther on the other side. The entire perimeter was lined with newly leafed trees, and the scene looked particularly sparkling fresh after the previous day's rain. The lake water was cold and I asked, “Is there good fishing here?"
“Not bad. I've never been much of a fisherman, but we have the equipment if you'd like to try your hand."
“No, thanks. I was just curious."
Birdsong burst gloriously from a tree close by on the shore as we paddled along. I laughed out loud. “That's how it is where we vacation in the Lake District."
“You and Nigel."
“Yes, both Nigel and Cass usually go."
“Tell me about Cass. You've said very little."
As we progressed around the lake we discussed our children, the things we worried about and the things that made us proud. Jack was remarkably frank about the privileged traits his children had acquired that were unpalatable to him. He never blamed his former wife, in fact only mentioned positive things about her, but it seemed likely that the kids had acquired more of those mannerisms from her than from him.
When we reached the other side of the lake, Jack explained that there was a road between the houses and the docks, which was the reason the houses had seemed farther back. Many of the docks had the same kind of pontoon-like boat, and I asked him what they were.
“I call them martini boats. Or floaters. People have their afternoon cocktails on them while they cruise around the lake, talking to other groups and generally enjoying the sun."
“Very patrician of them."
“Yeah. I've never had the least desire to get one.” He paused and added, “Want to talk about last night, Mandy?"
His jacket had begun to seem too warm. As I shrugged myself out of it, I felt him lift it away from me. “Actually,” I said, “I wouldn't mind having a sandwich first."
“Sure."
This unfortunately required my rearranging myself so that I faced him. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt and looked very sporty. The backpack rested against the port side of the canoe where we could each reach into it. “After you,” he said.
The first sandwich I removed was salami and I decided to keep it. Before I took a bite, however, I looked Jack straight in the eyes and said, “First of all, I'm the one who's responsible for last night. Not you, not our forced proximity, nothing but me. I wanted to sleep with you, oh, maybe not for sure until we were in the car coming up, but once I'd decided, I made sure you knew it."
If I'd expected him to find this an astonishing statement, I appeared to be far off the mark. Jack merely regarded me with a lazy smile. “And why do you think you decided in the car that you wanted to sleep with me?"
“Well, not because you did anything to entice me."
“Didn't I?"
“Of course not. You were sound asleep."
“I did sleep,” he admitted. “I've been told I look very vulnerable when I'm asleep."
“I don't decide to sleep with someone because he looks vulnerable, Jack."
He pursed his lips, shook his head. “You're wrong, you know. There's something very enticing to a woman about a man who momentarily looks vulnerable. They want to protect him, and that's exciting."
“Nonsense. You're making that up."
“Well, it may not be part of my own experience, but it's true."
I finished chewing a bite of the sandwich before saying, “Well, you didn't fall asleep on purpose."
“Didn't I?"
“Stop that! You were exhausted, and sad, and under stress. That's why you fell asleep."
Jack reached across and touched my lips with a fingertip. “But those are the reasons you wanted to protect me, my dear, because I was tired and depressed. If I'd been a totally honorable man, I would have pretended to be in good spirits, so you wouldn't have had to worry about me."
“That's ridiculous,” I complained, taking another bite of my sandwich. He continued regarding me with sympathy, for God's sake, so I said, “You just like to take the blame for things, don't you? Even though your wife asked for a divorce, you decided you were really the one responsible. This is exactly the same thing."
“You're quite right. It is. Because in both cases I was, consciously or unconsciously, the cause."
Now I had him. Like a lawyer at trial, I pounced. “But you had no reason to wish to entice me,” I said silkily. “You may have unconsciously wanted to be out of your marriage. I have no way of knowing. But you had no reason on earth to wish to fill me with desire for you. Even if you were some nut case who enjoyed turning people on, there would have been the embarrassment of having to refuse me."
“Did I refuse you?"
“No, of course not. You were far too polite."
He scoffed at my reasoning. “You think I'd make love to you out of courtesy? Think again, Mandy."
“Well, it wasn't like that, exactly. I seduced you. Not just last night, but by flirting with you the night before, and being provocative during the day. You won't deny I did that, will you?"
His eyes danced. “No, I won't deny that. You were a perfect delight. I especially liked it when you'd decide to behave yourself."
“See? And sometimes I did. But ... but by evening I didn't seem to have any choice."
“Neither did I."
“Then I was successful,” I insisted. “Surely you can see that."
He shook his head. “It didn't happen that way, Mandy."
“Then how did it happen?"
He sat on the bottom of the canoe, his legs on either side of mine, his hands along the gunwales. “My guess is that we were attracted t
o each other the morning we met, and the attraction simply grew during the week. But I knew you were married, and I could have kicked Cliff for doing what he did. I knew it wouldn't be smart to put the two of us alone together."
“You're making this up."
“You wish. True, I was going to ignore the attraction if I could. You are, after all, married. But I managed to convince myself that you and Nigel had some arrangement, because you were going to be away for so long. Talk about wishful thinking."
My shoulders lifted in a shrug more of embarrassment than indifference. “Maybe you thought I wouldn't be making a pass at you unless I had a temporary release from my marital vows."
“Would it be all right with Nigel?"
That stumped me. For all the years he hadn't made love with me, he'd never indicated one way or the other whether he'd approve of my taking a lover. And asking him had seemed tantamount to asking for a divorce. Since no attraction I'd felt in all those years was as strong as my desire to maintain our family, the question hadn't arisen.
“I don't know,” I admitted frankly. “It might be. But due to the odd circumstances of our marriage, I feel justified in being the one to decide what I do."
His expression had turned serious. “Mandy, the world isn't like it was when we were kids and followed in the wake of the ‘sexual revolution.’ Now there's AIDS. I don't even sleep with Karen anymore."
“I beg your pardon?"
He looked a little sheepish. “Well, we did for a while. Don't ask me why she wanted to, because I don't know. I still did. But then she started seeing other men, and that was the end of any physical relationship."
I stared at him. “Let me understand this, Jack. You and your wife both wanted a divorce, and she filed for one. And you lived separately?"
“Right. But sometimes when we were talking on the phone about the kids, we'd kind of revert to the way we'd been, you know?"
“I don't think so."
“Oh, divorce doesn't have to be all or nothing, Mandy. Here's a person you've loved, and you're still fond of, except that things have changed and you can't really live together anymore. Sometimes one of us, not always me, would make reference to a time when things had been good between us, and that would occasionally lead to our seeing each other."
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