Original Cyn

by Sue Margolis

  “White or wholemeal?”

  “Wholemeal.”

  “Butter or spread?”

  “Butter, please.”

  “Hah. You won’t be saying that in a few years when your cholesterol count’s six point six. Mind you, mine’s not as bad as the wife’s. Doctor said her arteries are more furred up than a yak’s back in winter.”

  While Joe waited for the drinks, Cyn sat herself down at a table next to a huge inglenook fireplace decked out with horse brasses and leather bellows. A pile of logs burned and crackled in the hearth. Two ginger cats were curled up in front of it, fast asleep. She leaned down and started to stroke one of the cats. The creature gave a muffled squawk at being disturbed and then began to purr.

  “The food here is every bit as good as you said it was,” Cyn told Joe as she plastered her doorstep chunk of crusty bread in pale unsalted butter. She cut into the dense strong cheddar that came in a thick moldy rind. “Here, you have to try some of this cheese.” She cut him a small piece and popped it into his mouth. It felt so natural to be sharing her food with him and he seemed more than happy for her to steal crisps and bits of salad off his plate.

  When they’d finished eating, the landlord came over and asked them if they could do justice to a nice plate of “the wife’s sherry trifle.” They both agreed that they could more than do it justice.

  “This is wonderful,” Joe said, spooning up trifle.

  “Yeah, and it’s dead easy to make.”

  “No, I meant this. Us. You and me.”

  “I know. Feet aside, it’s been a perfect day. Absolutely perfect.”

  Joe looked at his watch. “Look, I don’t want to be a killjoy, but I really think we should get going. When I was getting the drinks, the landlord mentioned they were forecasting snow.”

  “And for once they got it right,” Cyn said, staring out of the window. Outside it looked like a scene from one of those glass snow globes. The wind had come up and swirling flakes the size of fifty-pence pieces were piling up on the ground. “Christ,” Joe said. “It’s a real blizzard out there.”

  “I hope you’ve got somewhere to stay tonight,” the landlord said, clearing away their plates. “I wouldn’t like to chance a long drive. Not if I were you. Not in these conditions. Oh, no. Definitely not. Another hour or two and it’ll be drifting to kingdom come.”

  Cyn and Joe exchanged anxious glances, wondering what to do. “These scientists say bloody planet’s warming up,” the landlord went on. “No blinkin’ sign of it in these parts.”

  “Don’t suppose you do accommodation here, do you?” Joe said.

  “Aye, as a matter of fact we do. I think I’ve got a couple of rooms left. I’ll have to check with the wife that they’re made up. You see, she handles all the bookings. I keep to the pub side. I don’t step on her toes. She doesn’t step on mine, so to speak. She’s upstairs with her mother just now. Ninety-two years young she is. We converted the top floor into a granny flat when she hurt her hip. So many people these days see the elderly as a burden, but not my missus. She’s an angel. Nothing’s too much for her. She shouldn’t be long, though. So, what are you looking for? A twin, I presume?”

  Joe looked distinctly uneasy at the mention of bedroom arrangements. He looked from the landlord to Cyn and back again, clearly not sure how to play this.

  “Yes, we’d like a twin, please,” Cyn said, giving Joe’s thigh a squeeze, “with a double bed if possible.”

  Chapter 15

  The landlord took Cyn and Joe up to the pale blue Laura Ashley chintz bedroom and then spent a full ten minutes pointing out its most noteworthy features. There were the tea- and coffee-making facilities, the barrel of shortbread—“homemade by the wife”—the individual radiator thermostats and the newly installed shower in the en suite bathroom that apparently “worked a treat” until somebody in another room ran a tap or flushed the loo. To make doubly sure they wouldn’t be caught unaware, he directed their attention to the piece of laminated card he had stuck to the mirror over the washbasin, informing guests to “beware of fluctuating water pressure and temperature.”

  The second he left, they fell back onto the soft double bed giggling. Joe had just started to kiss her when there was a gentle knock and the landlord poked his head round the door. In a fraction of a second, Cyn and Joe went from prone to bolt upright.

  “Me again,” said the landlord. “Just a word about the smoke detector. It can be a bit sensitive. So if you’re going to smoke, please, could you do it out of the window?”

  Joe said it wouldn’t be a problem since neither of them smoked.

  “Oh, right you are. By the way, I’ve put the electric blanket on for you. Most of our guests find the medium setting adequate. Of course, if you would prefer a hot water bottle, you only have to ask.”

  “That’s really kind of you,” Cyn said. “But I think we’ll be OK.”

  “You see, the wind really does rattle through these old window frames. By rights I could do with some double glazing. Chappie came to give us an estimate. I’ll get round to it one day, no doubt. Right, then. I can’t think of anything else.” He nodded, offered up a tiny, self-conscious wave and closed the door. Joe pushed Cyn back down onto the bed.

  “Ooh, I almost forgot,” came the familiar voice. “What paper will you be wanting in the morning?” In an effort to create a respectable distance between himself and Cyn, Joe rolled to one side of the bed. The only problem was, he had misjudged the force required for said roll and ended up on the carpet, flat on his back, arms and legs outstretched like a stranded beetle.

  “Is the gentleman all right?”

  “Fine,” Joe said, staggering to his feet, rubbing his left shoulder. “Absolutely fine.”

  “You want to treat your back with more respect. You can’t be too careful with backs, I always say. Now, then, where was I? Oh, yes, newspaper. What shall it be?”

  “Oh, whatever,” Cyn said. “We really don’t mind.”

  “You look like Observer people to me,” he said. “I’ll get that, then, shall I?”

  “Fab.”

  “And we serve a full English breakfast in the saloon bar from seven thirty.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Right, then. Anything you need, just shout. Me and the wife are only downstairs.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Joe said.

  The door closed again. They were fit to explode with laughter, but stifled it in case the landlord heard. To ensure they weren’t taken by surprise again, Joe marched over to the door, locked it and put the key on the pine chest of drawers next to a furry hedgehog wearing a cap, miniature wire spectacles and an apron. He was still rubbing his shoulder.

  “Come and sit down on the bed,” Cyn said. “Let me do that.”

  She made him take off his shirt. His broad, muscular torso was firm and still tanned from the summer. She knelt behind him, pressing her thumb into his shoulder muscle.

  “Ooh, that’s good,” he said, rolling his head.

  “Some heat might help,” she said. “What about a soak in the bath?”

  He turned round to face her. “You know, I think maybe I’d prefer a shower . . . I’m sure there’s room enough for two.”

  “I was thinking precisely the same,” Cyn smiled, feeling her heart rate speed up. He stood up, pulled her to her feet and began kissing her. This time their kissing was deep and urgent. She could feel the outline of his erection against her. She pushed her pelvis toward him. “Come on, let’s get this off,” he whispered.

  He pulled her fleece up over her head. Then he took off her T-shirt. This was followed by two thermal vests. “Sorry about those,” she said. “If I’d known how today was going to end, I would have put on my best silk undies.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said softly, pulling her bra strap down off her shoulder. He started kissing her throat. She threw back her head, so that the tendons in her neck were stretched and taut like lift cables. She felt him unhook
her bra. He stood for a moment or two, gazing at her breasts. He cupped one in his hand, lowered his mouth to her nipple. The gentle nibbling and biting made her gasp. Moisture was seeping from her. She was aching to feel him inside her. She’d taken off her boots downstairs in the bar, so it was easy to slip out of her trousers. As she stood there in her pants she undid his jeans belt. He looked down, watching her hands. She undid his zipper and ran the back of her hand lightly along the contour of his erection. His breath was coming slow and heavy. She tugged on his jeans and pants, releasing him. His penis sprang out, strong and thick. She sat back on the bed and covered the tip with her mouth. As her tongue caressed him, he dug his fingers into her shoulders and let out a long sigh.

  “Let’s get in the shower,” he whispered. He took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. She found herself looking at his sturdy, muscular legs and remembering the comment he’d made about her thinking he was a knobbly-kneed rambling type. “I knew you had gorgeous knees,” she giggled. He looked confused for a moment and she had to remind him of their conversation. Then he thanked her for the compliment.

  “By the way, remember the problem with the water temperature,” she said as he reached inside the cubicle and turned the control. While the water heated up, he pulled down her pants and kissed her bush. Then he asked her to sit down on the edge of the bath.

  “Open your legs,” he said.

  She did as he asked. He knelt down in front of her and trailed his fingers over her opening. She thrust against his fingers, but he made no attempt to go inside, which drove her wild with frustration. “Please. Please touch me.”

  “Soon.”

  He pulled her up. The shower cubicle was full of steam. He stepped inside. “The temperature’s fine,” he said, holding out his hand for her. She took his hand. The hot needles stung her body—especially her raw feet. His arms were around her and he was kissing her again. Ignoring her feet, she floated into the pleasure. When they finally pulled away, he smiled at her and pushed her flat wet hair out of her eyes. Despite the temperature she was trembling. There was a tube of shower gel at their feet. He picked it up and squirted some onto his hands. As he rubbed it in a caress over her breasts, she let out a tiny whimper. She held out her hand and asked him to squirt some gel onto her palm. She rubbed soap over his chest and followed the line of dark hair that led to his bush. Her hand curled around his penis and slid along the shaft. She watched him bite his bottom lip with pleasure.

  “Spread your legs again,” he said.

  Her head was spinning now. “You’ll have to hold me,” she said, “or I’m going to fall down.”

  Her head resting on his shoulder, she parted her feet. His soapy hand began to glide over the inside of her thigh. Slowly, lingering here and there, he brought it higher. And higher. Until. As he parted her and began gently exploring her, she gripped his neck, brought her mouth to his. As his fingers probed her, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, desperately trying to communicate how much she wanted him to make her come. With the lightest touch, his fingers slid over her vulva. She needed him to go harder, faster. She pressed her hand on top of his, urging him on. “There’s plenty of time,” he whispered. He began licking her neck and the inside of her ear. He toyed with her between her legs, the same way he had when he had been stroking her thigh. It was one step forward, three steps back. He left her teetering on the edge. “Please! Please!”

  “Sshh. Just relax.”

  By now she was having real trouble keeping upright. He sensed this. “Would you be better lying down?”

  Before she had a chance to reply the decision was taken out of her hands. In a second, the warm, soothing water had turned to ice. They both screamed. Cyn leaped out of the cubicle and grabbed a bath towel, while Joe moved his body away from the jet of water and reached for the temperature control. He stood frantically turning the dial. After three or four seconds he still couldn’t make the hot water come back on, so he gave up.

  “Can’t say we weren’t warned,” he laughed as he stepped out of the cubicle and picked up a towel.

  “The electric blanket’s on in the bed,” she said, shivering. “I’ll race you.”

  He chased after her, caught her and the two of them fell onto the bed. As he kissed her he parted her legs. She whimpered as he began rubbing her juices over her vulva. She arched her back, bucked like a horse. “I want to feel you inside me,” she cried out. He made her turn onto her stomach. Then he placed a couple of pillows under her middle, so that she was forced onto her knees. He was spreading her juices over her buttocks now. Slowly, his fingers moved down toward her vulva. He was opening her. Then she felt it, the first thrust. Then another and another. Deeper and deeper. Harder. Faster, but his fingers were back on her clitoris. The touch was strong and rhythmic now. He was giving her precisely what she wanted. He was drawing firm clockwise circles over her. Her breath was coming in tight rasps. Soon it was too much to bear and she felt the familiar juddering and quivering inside her. His grinding became slower, harder. She could feel his body tense, sense him gritting his teeth. There was one final thrust. Then, finally, he relaxed.

  Afterward she lay in his arms while he pushed tendrils of damp hair out of her face.

  “I think I just went to heaven,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she said, kissing his chest and letting out a long, slow breath.

  “So, how does it feel, getting more and more wicked by the day?”

  She furrowed her brow. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, first you hatch this devious plan to get your own back on this Chelsea woman and now you’re making passionate love to somebody from your therapy group, which I’d say is more than just breaking the rules. Veronica would probably see it as psychotherapeutic heresy. Don’t get me wrong, I totally approve. It’s one of the things I adore about you.”

  She found herself blushing at the “adore” bit. “I’ll tell you how becoming even more wicked feels,” she said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. “Bloody, bloody brilliant. Having barely broken a rule in my life, I’m getting really good at it. There’s something so exciting about it. Of course I worry about the Chelsea situation backfiring, but this, you and me . . . it feels so right.”

  “For me, too.” He tilted her face toward him and held her gaze in his. “I want you to know that I have never felt this way about any woman I have been out with. It’s a complete first and it feels wonderful.”

  She snuggled into him again.

  “You’ve taken a fair old risk getting involved with me,” he said, “and I’m not talking about breaking Veronica’s rules. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. Most women would have run a mile.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  “Now, isn’t that the truth?” he smiled, kissing her forehead.

  “I guess we need to be honest with the group, though,” she said. “We can’t pretend nothing’s going on.”

  “I know. We have to own up, but let’s not talk about it now. It can wait.”

  They were starting to feel cold and decided to get in under the sheets. “Oh, this is bliss,” Cyn said, feeling the warmth of the electric blanket underneath her. Then a thought occurred to her. “God, I hope I left Morris with enough food and water. I’m sure I did, but we’ll really need to get going early in the morning.”

  “No problem.”

  “Talking of food and water, do you fancy a cuppa and a piece of shortbread?”

  “Maybe in a minute,” he said. He suddenly looked preoccupied, she thought.

  “You OK?”

  “I’m fine. You know, today really was one of the most wonderful I can ever remember. I loved every second . . .”

  “Me, too.”

  He gave her a quick squeeze. “I’m glad, but there’s something we need to talk about.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” He swallowed hard.

  “Yes. You’ve got to decide how to handle the Clementine situation. So, a
re you going to confront her in the group about her giving you her phone number?”

  “I haven’t decided. No, it’s not that. There’s something else. The thing is . . .”

  Just then her mobile started ringing. She picked the phone up off the bedside cabinet and looked at the caller display. It was her mother. “Sorry, Joe, it’s my mum. If I switch the phone off now while it’s ringing, she’ll realize and get offended.” She flipped the lid.

  As Barbara started speaking, the color drained from Cyn’s face. “Oh, my God, when did it happen? . . . OK, don’t worry, I’m on my way. The thing is, it’s going to take me a while. I’m in Derbyshire with a friend. We spent the day walking. Now there’s heavy snow, but I’ll be there. One way or another.” Usually by now her mother would have been cross-examining her, wanting to know how she’d spent her day and what friend she was with, but she said nothing apart from “OK, darling. Take it easy. Drive carefully.”

  Cyn leaped out of bed.

  “What is it?” Joe said, looking alarmed.

  She was snatching clothes up off the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s in hospital. He collapsed at home a couple of hours ago. They’ve established it’s not a heart attack or a stroke, but beyond that, the doctors have got no idea what’s the matter with him. Apparently they’re doing loads of tests.” She looked down at her hands, which had started to shake.

  The landlord, whose name they finally discovered was Don, couldn’t have been more kind. He refused to accept a penny for the room and, even though it was Saturday night, he had a pub full of people and they were short staffed, he insisted on giving them a lift back to their car. Although it had stopped snowing, the country roads were like narrow, snaking ice rinks. Since Don drove an old army-issue Land Rover with snow chains, navigating the lanes wasn’t too much of a problem. What worried Cyn and Joe was how they would cope in a car.

  “Just keep in a low gear and take it steady,” Don advised. “Remember, if you go into a skid, don’t brake, turn into it.”

  Cyn and Joe thanked him for everything. “My pleasure,” he said. Then he turned to Cyn and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I hope your dad is OK.”