To So Few

by Russell Sullman

  She blushed darker, “It’s just that you are such a terrific boy, and I love you. I want to love you in every way. I’m not that sort of girl, but I do know that I love you, very, very much. And I’d like to love you in that way, too.”

  She smiled then, despite her embarrassment; spoke lightly, “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. Did I mention that I really, really, want you?”

  He was embarrassed as well, stunned, but also enormously thrilled. He had wanted her for so long, but had been so scared. He had feared so much that she may reject his inexperienced advances, but now he knew that she, too, wanted him. And she wanted him in every way! Dreams come true.

  Except…

  “Molly. There is just one thing.”

  Anxiously, “What is it, my love?”

  “Well,” He took a deep, apprehensive breath. “I’ve never, um, I don’t quite know how to put it, but, you see, um, well, oh hang it all! The thing is, Molly, I’ve, er, well, I’ve never been with a woman. Never. Ever.”

  The moment he’d uttered the words he could have bit his tongue. He groaned inwardly.

  Why did say that? She didn’t have to know that!

  There, she’ll think me less of a man now. He found it difficult to return her gaze. How can I make it special with no experience? I want to be all the man she could ever want, but she’ll not want a useless boy sharing her bed.

  Her voice was hushed, “Never?”

  “Never, ever. I’m sorry.”

  Still looking at him, she smiled slightly, although her eyes were still serious. “That’s alright. Actually, I’m a little bit glad. It means that we’re both in the same boat. She cupped his face, and kissed him tenderly.

  “You mean…?”

  “Yes. I’m not as worldly as I may seem. I’ve never actually been physically intimate with anyone, either. I’d never found anyone before that I wanted in that way.” Her smile widened, ever so slightly, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  “Until now. And I’m willing to learn with you. Very willing indeed.”

  She took his hand gently, and placed it palm-first onto her left breast. He was so surprised that he almost fell off the wall.

  “I want to learn about love with you. I want to share my body with you, Harry. I so want to feel your hands on me. We could learn so much together.” He could feel her heart beating like a caged bird beneath his trembling palm, the tempo matching his own racing pulse.

  It didn’t matter!

  It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She didn’t mind that he had no experience, and she still wanted him! He felt so light-headed and dry-mouthed, with one hand around her waist, the other cupping the fullness of her breast, her nipple erect and pushing hard against his palm.

  “Are you sure, my darling?”

  “I don’t think I’ve been so sure about anything in my life. I’d never met anyone quite like you before, someone to whom I wanted to give myself to completely, except, of course,” she smiled sweetly at him, “now I have. That’s why I thought we could go into London,” she continued. “One of my friends has a flat in Mayfair, and I thought that we could be together there. Spend a weekend there together, just you and I.”

  She looked down, red-cheeked, her neck still flushed.

  “There. I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself now, and you too.” Her cheeks were colouring again, changing now from creamy warmth to a bright pink.

  He felt as if he had a potato lodged sideways in his throat, and cleared his throat shakily.

  Dear God!

  “Molly. I love you.” He pulled her back to him, enfolded her in his arms. “Yes. I would like that. Very much. I want you, all of you, so much! Mayfair it is.” He licked his lips, tried to speak nonchalantly. “When shall we go?”

  God! She must surely feel his heart clattering noisily in his chest.

  “I’m off next weekend. Can you get away then?”

  “Yes, I think I can do that.” Stay calm. Of course I will, even if I have to kill someone to get a weekend pass!

  She pressed herself against him. “It can be sooner, if you’d like?” Molly looked back, and he followed her gaze to the coolness of the shadowed orchard.

  For a moment Rose pictured her lying naked on a soft bed of fruit blossom, eyes bright and expectant, and almost succumbed to temptation.

  He licked his dry lips. “No. I can wait. I want to wait until next weekend. I want to treasure each second with you. One or two hours with you is not enough. I want to look at you, not for a little while, but for a long time. I want to hold you and not let go, I want to sleep with you. I want to listen to you as you sleep. I want to taste you with my eyes and mouth and skin and mind. I want it to be so special.”

  The stones were damned uncomfortable, and still damp. His bottom felt permanently dented, and he shifted again. A small stone, flat and smooth eased out, and he rubbed it with his fingers.

  “Does this mean you will marry me after all?” he asked, hopefully.

  She tilted her face up to catch the sunlight, and laughed huskily. “Oh no! You never give up, do you?”

  “I won’t stop asking until you say yes. I’m not going to let you get away from me. Ever. I love you, and I need you.”

  “Let’s see what Mummy has to say when she sees me, alright? Better not make any plans, my crazy, cheeky boy.”

  He pressed his lips against her slim neck, breathed in her scent. Her breath played against the nape of his neck, and he squeezed her firm breast gently.

  Wow.

  “She’ll love you, I know she will. How can she not?”

  “We’ll see. But make it soon, OK? I can’t wait too long. I want you so very much, I wake up and my body absolutely aches for you.” She looked up again. “Do you think I’m terribly forward? You’re a little shocked, aren’t you?” her eyes were anxious, “Do you think I’m a bit brazen?”

  He stroked her cheek lovingly. So smooth.

  “No. Not at all. I was a bit surprised, and terribly shy, but not shocked, not at all.” There was so much adrenaline flowing that he stuttered as he spoke, and he could feel the tremor of emotion in his limbs, threatening to change into uncontrollable shaking. His penis had stiffened, and it now felt huge and he shifted his position so she would not notice.

  “I don’t think you could ever do anything that could make me think badly of you. You are the most marvellous person I’ve ever met. I just can’t find adequate words to describe what I feel for you, and what I think of you. I don’t know how to tell you how much you mean to me. You are the perfect woman.”

  He thought for a moment, chose his words with care.

  “I don’t think you’re forward at all. In fact I think you’re quite sensible. You said what you said just now, because you appreciate how valuable each second is for both of us.” Goodness! How stilted I sound, he thought. “We should enjoy each and every day together. I know now that if you and I live to be a hundred, I’ll still not have had enough time with you. Now that I’ve found you, I want you. All of you. All the time. Every second of my life without you is a second wasted. So I will have everything that you give me. I want to share all life’s experiences with you. And I’m grateful that you had the sense to say what you said. I was a fool, and was too shy too even think to speak it. ”

  He shook his head. “No. you aren’t forward, sweetheart. You’re showing me how much you think of me, you had the courage to say what I was too scared to. You aren’t forward, but rather, you are a hell of a sight braver than I.”

  Her eyes were shining. “You think so?”

  “I do. You’ve shown me just how much I mean to you. And I am so glad. You offer me such a precious thing, it makes me realise how highly you think of me. I can’t tell you how proud you made me, or how pleased I feel by the fact that you’ve chosen me.” He took a long ragged breath. “Because I need you too, in every way. Forever.”

  He moved even closer, and whispered softly in her ear, “But I stil
l want you to marry me. Soon.”

  She laughed again, her peals of laughter rolling across the landscape. The mood of seriousness now dispelled.

  “That’s why I love you, Harry. So single-minded and committed. Be careful what you wish for, you sweet man. I may have to marry you after all.”

  “Please God. Yes, please. I want you. Forever. How can anyone else match you?”

  She laughed again. “Gosh, I can’t believe that I said all those things to you. I can’t believe what we’ve just been talking about. We’re terribly shameless, aren’t we?”

  It was strange that he felt so comfortable talking about things only hours before he would never have imagined discussing with her. He marvelled that he had been able to talk so freely about such things. But that’s how it was with her. He was just so comfortable when he was with Molly. He could talk about anything with her. Despite their mutual shyness, of course.

  “Yes, outrageous! I think it’s terrific!”

  She smiled. “Isn’t it?”

  They sat peacefully for a few more minutes, each comfortable in the love of the other. Finally, the wall became unbearable. Despite the delight of the woman beside him, his buttocks had gone numb, and his spine had begun to ache.

  Why is it that the bloody wall doesn’t hurt her bottom? He wondered.

  I’m going to have to personally check why. A detailed and careful examination.

  In Mayfair. Oh yes, please! Can’t wait!

  Finally, regretfully, unwilling to release her, but scared that if he didn’t move soon, he wouldn’t be able to, Rose stood up. His legs and back protested, and buttocks began to throb painfully.

  I’m never going to sit on one of those blessed walls again. Look very pretty and scenic in pictures, but they’re bloody hell on the arse. Bet I’ve got a wet seat to my trousers to boot.

  They walked back towards the Inn, hand in hand. They were comfortable in their new understanding, and the increased, deeper feeling of intimacy that there now was between them.

  They had the fluid intimacy of lovers whilst still innocents, unversed in the physical expression of the mechanics of their mutual love, now sharing a deep and fulfilling understanding with one another.

  CHAPTER 25

  The cloud formed strange shifting patterns of light and dark on the land, as the squadron climbed swiftly through the turbulent air, like the disorganised patterns drawn by a small child on paper.

  They climbed fast and hard, and it was a bumpy ride, difficult to stay in formation, even one as open and spread out as this. Each of them fought hard to keep their formation together, even though it was a little ragged.

  But soon the clouds had been left behind, and the air became less turbulent.

  From their height, the ground, where still visible in isolated patches, became a grey flat parchment, with vaguely discernible features. Except for where the sun penetrated, and the flat grey land became a patchwork of shifting bright splashes, though with as little feature, little else.

  There was no chatter, just the calm tones of the controller, and Donald’s cool, crisp responses.

  “Hullo, Kettle Red leader, Sapper control calling. Are you receiving me?”

  “Hullo, Sapper control, Kettle Red leader calling, receiving you loud and clear.”

  “Hullo, Kettle Red leader, vector one-zero-zero. Fifty-plus bandits, approaching Dover. Angels twelve. Buster.”

  Fifty-plus! Good Lord above! A thrill of fear and anticipation coursed down his spine, and his stomach turned over. You’d think we’d be used to the odds by now.

  No sign of trepidation in Donald’s voice, though. “Hallo, Sapper control. Kettle Red leader calling. Vectoring to one-zero-zero. Fifty-plus at twelve. All received and understood. Listening.”

  Rose turned his eyes from their interminable search of the surrounding skies to look at Granny’s Hurricane. Bet Granny has a few choice phrases.

  As if reading his thoughts, Granny looked back to shrug and shake his head dolefully at Rose.

  In the midst of his friends, he began to feel more at ease. The thought of imminent contact with the enemy less worrying than he had felt earlier. The churning in his belly subsided slightly.

  They settled at fourteen thousand, and the cloud beneath them began to break up, the land below uncovered. But he did not see it, for now he searched for signs of the enemy. When he looked down, he did not see the land beneath for which he fought, but instead he searched for the tell-tale movement against the backcloth.

  He continued the search above and below and to the sides and behind automatically, for the enemy could appear on the tail of the careless within seconds, as if by magic.

  The pace of battle now was one of continuous, monotonous flying, trying to keep formation with your fellows, so that the mind became anaesthetized, and the mind began to wander. At any moment, the boredom could be interspersed with sudden, shocking combat, so that the dullness of the mind was terrified back into stark clarity.

  That is, of course, if the battle had not already been lost in that first instant when it had been joined. In the fighting of the last month, many a fine fighter pilot had gone to his death without even seeing his executioner. Such were the vagaries of fighting and the twinned importance of luck and skill in the clouds.

  Despite the tension, the mind began to slip, and the effort to concentrate left a man feeling as weak as a kitten, even after only an hour’s worth of patrol.

  And all of the time, there was the vague apparition of fear, which gnawed silently and perfidiously at the soul from the shadows.

  So, as Granny had drilled into him, and as his war had reinforced the lesson, Rose continued his unrelenting search. Nonetheless, the cold, tiredness and lack of sleep were an enemy that ceaselessly circled at the periphery.

  He adjusted the oxygen mask carefully, strained to concentrate and maintain his alertness.

  Where were the bastards? There should be bombers and a higher fighter escort, heading straight for their targets, their airfields in France behind them.

  He stifled a yawn, when suddenly he saw them.

  So did the others, as the sound of excited voices called out over the R/T, until Donald silenced them firmly. The bombers were an unbroken group, a terrible dark war host that seemed to endlessly stretch back.

  Still some distance away, and higher, a second, smaller formation of dots hovered.

  Fighters!

  Rose’s neck had gone cold, and he felt the bitterness of the acid of his stomach, erosive and stinging. With a steady finger, he switched the safety on the stick to ‘off.’

  Donald waggled his wings. “OK, Excalibur, head on attack on the formation. Red and Yellow section first, then Green and Blue. Open up, line abreast. We may get only one shot before the escort get stuck in, so make it count. Tally-Ho!”

  The Hurricanes were two thousand feet above and in front of the bombers, and Donald pushed them into a gentle dive that took them down into the face of the enemy formation.

  The six Hurricanes of the first wave were still in position when they pulled up. Donald had calculated well, and they were suddenly within range, the pencil-thin Dorniers so close that he fancied he could see the bomb aimer in the nose of the one he had selected on the right of the formation staring back at him in horror.

  Already a web of tracer weaved towards them, hunch down, steady.

  He pressed the button, and the aircraft vibrated from the recoil of his Brownings, as did the image of the enemy aircraft he was targeting.

  And then he had skipped over it, the blurred, vague memory of hits and smoke, smeared, spinning pieces of metal.

  But he could not look back and see what damage there was, for there were plenty more of them before him. It seemed like hundreds.

  Stretching back apparently unendingly into the distance.

  His stinging eyes were already searching for the next one.

  Rattle of hits against the fuselage, but it’s OK, because she continues to fly.


  Another appeared before him, and he pressed down the gun-button again.

  There were so many! The Hurricane shook again, and he put in a two second burst that seemed to last forever, until the Dornier, blurred in his windscreen, smoking and massive, whipped past.

  He shot through the trail of stinking grey-white smoke, and was turning and diving to starboard, so that they searched for the open air on the flank of the formation.

  Had they turned to port, he and his Hurricane would have stormed into the centre of that looming formation, into the massed concentrated gunfire at its core.

  Rose gasped. He had thought a collision impossible to avoid, yet they had passed one another with space to spare.

  He stared behind. He could not tell what had happened to either of the twin tailed machines he had attacked, for the formation, once so solid looking and impenetrable, had opened up into a ragged and open formation.

  Three machines were streaming smoke, and a fourth was falling slowly, burning fiercely (mine or someone else’s?), whilst a fifth spun downwards out of control.

  Parachutes opened, and men, once safe and invulnerable, were entering into captivity that might last for years. But then, they were the lucky ones.

  Beneath the formation, a lone Hurricane was firing into the belly of a Dornier, whilst on the far side another was turning back into the attack.

  A bomber exploded suddenly, whilst another fell away, a white thin ribbon marking its path like the glistening bitter trail traced by a slug.

  Already some bombers had turned back. A whole group of three, still in formation, turned tail and fled back the way they had come, diving away as they sought salvation over the glassy waters.

  Leave them. More than enough still on the original heading.

  The sea shone silver, too far below to see the waves, like a stippled metal tray.

  Glance left, right, above and behind.

  Another RAF fighter behind, pulling up. How come there were fewer bombers? Where did they disappear to in so little time?