“Me too,” said Nina in surprise. It was true. She’d been wound up like a watch spring, gradually getting tighter and tighter as the weeks passed. “More like three months though. I don’t know how you survived.”
“No wonder this beach is so famous.” Martin stopped and gazed around at the perfectly curved golden stretch of sand with low rocky headlands at either end and houses and shops separated from the beach by grass, walkway and road and the magnificent old Pavilion. Swimmers and surfers skimmed and splashed in the sparkling blue waves while the less energetic lazed under coloured umbrellas.
“There are beaches like this all up and down the coast. Don’t know why this one is famous,” said Nina. “I prefer some of the others for swimming. Not as many tourists and it can be pretty rough here at night. Do you know, Japanese tourists come here, get photographed and then jump back on the bus all in about five minutes? Some of them even get married here in the full white wedding gear. That takes a bit longer—ten minutes.”
“I’m not a beach connoisseur like you.” Martin laughed and kicked water at her. Nina responded in kind and they ended up running and laughing and splashing until she called truce and they sat on a bench in the late afternoon sun to dry their clothes, gazing out at the endlessly rolling breakers and watching the surf board riders barrelling in toward them and then paddling back out to try again.
“I could live here,” said Martin. “It’s a fantastic place.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I had no idea what I’d find when I got on that plane at Heathrow, when was it? Last Tuesday? Monday? Less than a week and here I am sitting in the sun at Bondi Beach—with wet clothes thanks to you.”
“You started it.”
Nina brushed sand from her legs. Gordon didn’t like the beach and they’d never been swimming or surfing together. In fact they’d never spent such a pleasant, aimless day together with or without ending up in bed somewhere along the line. Gordon had disappeared completely from her life and she hadn’t missed him at all. It had been a totally physical relationship, she’d known that at the time but it was still mildly surprising that heʼd faded so completely and quickly from her thoughts.
“Like to go out to dinner tonight?” asked Martin. “Get dressed up and go dancing or something?” He spoke casually but Nina heard an underlying tension and it had nothing to do with the music or their quest for Piers.
“Do you like dancing?” she asked mildly, teasing gently.
“Not particularly but I thought you might. I’d like to take you out. Somewhere special. You’ve been so good to me, letting me stay and everything. Would you like that?” Very proper, formal Martin made an appearance and all memories of Gordon were plunged into the archives.
“I’d love that. And Martin I wanted you to stay as much for me as for you. I think I would’ve gone really crazy if you hadn’t shown up.”
“Remember what we said,” Martin said softly, gripping her hand. “It’s our day off.”
Nina smiled. “Sorry. There are some really good restaurants in the city right near the bridge overlooking the harbour or there’s that one by the wharf at McMahon’s Point.”
“You choose.”
“Let’s go into the city then. Circular Quay is lovely at night.”
And so they did. Nina dressed with great care in a slim fitting, short, white dress which set off the golden tan of her skin and was rewarded by a stunned look and then a low whistle of admiration from Martin. He was wearing black slacks and a silvery grey shirt and tie and looked very distinguished. Just as she’d thought, the hot, hairy, dishevelled, desperate and exhausted man wasn’t the true Martin. He was the sensitive, confident, strong and reliable one who emerged from the jet lag and bizarre unreality of the last months.
But Florence’s comment about the passion underlying the perfect manners teased at her relentlessly through dinner, while they danced and afterward as they strolled hand in hand along the seawall at Circular Quay. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the relief of sharing the secret, maybe it was the enjoyment of a glamorous night out unlike anything she’d experienced recently or even not so recently. Maybe it was Martin himself. Nina wanted to do some exploring. She wanted him to kiss her again, just to see if it was as good as she thought.
They caught a taxi home.
Nina closed the door behind them and followed Martin to the living room. He stopped and turned as she reached him and without a word she walked into his arms. He looked down at her upturned face, his hands resting lightly on her waist and for a terrible moment Nina thought he was going to push her away.
Instead he said softly, “Nina, I didn’t take you out tonight to make you feel you owed me something—to seduce you.”
“I know.” Her tongue slid slowly over her lower lip, her arms around his neck.
“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” His lips came closer.
“I know.”
Nina closed her eyes as he touched her mouth gently with his and it was as good as she’d thought. Better. Much more sensitive and loving than Gordon, not so much force and lust, although there was definitely lust creeping in now. On both their parts. Both his arms were around her and his firm torso, slim and wiry, was warm against her body. Roving hands sent tingles of delight up and down her whole body. Tongues intertwined, fingers gently massaged her breasts teasing her nipples erect.
“Martin,” she managed to breath in between kisses and pants of delight.
“Mmm,” he murmured into her neck where he nibbled and kissed.
“I thought you weren’t going to…ever…kiss me…again.”
“I’ll stop then, shall I?” He did momentarily and Nina grabbed his head between her hands.
“No!”
He continued where he’d left off, murmuring in broken phrases, “You’re so gorgeous, Nina. Perfect. I wanted to do this when I first set eyes on you.”
Nina couldn’t reply for some time and by then it was too late as they’d been edging toward her room and Martin expertly unzipped her dress. It slipped to the floor at their feet in a silky shimmer and she stepped out of it and concentrated on undoing his belt and buttons and sliding his pants and shirt off. She lay back on the bed and opened her arms to him. Florence was convincingly proven right.
Later, Martin pulled the covers over them both and lay with his arms around her, holding her close. His heart beat steadily under her ear and she sighed with deep satisfaction. He kissed the top of her head.
“What?” he asked softly. “Regrets?”
“No, stupid.” Nina stretched up and kissed his lips. “Serena the psychic told me there would be pleasure and satisfaction in my future.”
“Really?” Martin shifted so that he could look her in the face. “What else?”
Nina chuckled. “She said that there would be a tall, dark and handsome man from overseas and that love was involved.”
“She got that right,” he said in a self-satisfied voice and stroked her cheek gently.
“Perhaps I should see her again. She said I should after you appeared.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
Nina shifted so that her head was on the pillow and he turned and settled more comfortably. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowed.
The scent of roses wafted on warm, summer air. She was in a garden. A beautiful garden, at night. There were voices in the distance through the trees. A party, sounds of laughter coming from a brightly lit house. They mustn’t see her here. She was waiting…
She was kissing Piers. His arms were around her and his tongue was hard and forceful in her mouth. She could feel his body against hers. His chest was broad and his stomach and thigh muscles firm and exciting under her roving hands. He drew back and his dark, penetrating eyes burned into hers. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and breathed his name. “Piers. Piers kiss me again. I love you.”
He bent his head to hers and once more devoured her mouth with p
assionate kisses.
He stopped and whispered hoarsely, “You’re mine. Mine alone. Always.”
“Yours. Yes, Piers.”
Then they were in a glade of trees. Hot, bright light filtered through the thick canopy of leaves. She lay back on the grass and watched Piers above her, his face suffused by passion and love. For her. He moved inside her hard and strong and urgent and she went with him, her whole body crying out to be closer, to enclose him and draw him into the depths of her, hold him and make him part of her. He bent his head and kissed her mouth, driving his tongue deep and hard even as he drove deeper into her body, striving for that ultimate release, that ultimate expression of his love. Then she was lifted on her own wave of desire and she called out his name.
The light faded and it was night again. The scent of roses was heavy in the air. Piers approached silently, his body a darker bulk against the moonlit leaves of the shrubs and bushes of the garden. His arms enclosed her and she rested her head against his chest. “Piers,” she said. “Piers. I love you.”
He began pummelling her shoulder. Nina struggled to free herself as the pummelling became uncomfortable and her eyes flew open, closing again quickly against the harshness of the light and the confusion in her mind. She breathed deeply as she struggled to the surface of sleep and opened her eyes again to the familiarity of her bedroom.
The bedside light cast a soft yellow glow over Martin’s worried face. His hand lay heavy on her shoulder.
“Nina? Nina, wake up.”
Nina blinked and strained to adapt herself to this other reality. Piers had gone. Martin was in his place. Martin with an anxious face. Martin with whom she had just made love. Or had it been Piers?
“Martin?” She stared about the room. Her room. Her bedroom.
“Nina what were you dreaming? Can you remember?”
“Piers. I was dreaming about Piers. It was so real.” She touched his cheek gently. He was real. His beard stubble prickled her fingers. Piers’ face was smooth…
“You cried out his name. What did he say? What did he want?”
“I can’t remember. It was Piers—so real.” The taste of him, the feel of him. “I could smell roses. It was hot, really hot. We were—somewhere—in a garden. There were trees.”
Martin drew her to him and she snuggled into the comfort of his embrace. He stretched out an arm and turned off the light then began kissing and caressing her gently. Nina responded with increasing ardour and as her passion increased so did the memory of Piers’ body under her hands and the feel of his mouth on hers. It was all she could do not to cry out his name as she reached her climax.
****
Martin knocked on the Lee family front door at one-thirty the next day. Nina had brought a portable cassette recorder to record the playing and Martin had the cello part in the envelope. They’d decided after a short discussion over breakfast not to bring their own instruments so as not to be tempted to play along when Jason recorded his part.
“I hope he’s remembered we’re coming,” said Nina irritably as they waited on the front step. “He’s probably still in bed.”
She thumped the brass dolphin-shaped knocker again with more force than Martin and this time they heard footsteps and an outline appeared through the frosted glass panel on the door.
“Hello,” he said cheerily and stuck out his hand to Martin as Nina introduced them and then strode on into the house leaving them to greet each other on the doorstep. “Jason Lee.”
“Martin Leigh,” said Martin and laughed at Jason’s surprise. “Spelled differently.”
“Come in.” He stepped aside. Martin walked into the cool hallway after Nina.
Jason padded behind them on bare feet. He wore old, torn jeans and a baggy white T-shirt displaying a jazz saxophonist in silhouette which couldn’t disguise a well toned muscular physique. Very like Nina with a masculine version of her good looks he had dark brown rather than black hair and was taller by several inches.
“I found my cello,” he said to Nina’s back as she peered into a room on the left. Martin caught a glimpse of a lounge suite and a glass-fronted china cabinet.
“Was it covered in dust? Have you vacuumed recently?” She looked around critically as they walked through to the large sunny, family room at the rear of the house. Books and newspapers were scattered about along with a few items of clothing and the odd shoe but apart from that the house looked in reasonable shape to Martin.
“Last week,” he answered and shot Martin a grin before asking, “Have you?”
“Where’s Ringo?” Nina ignored him and opened the sliding glass door to the back garden. “Is he still alive or have you starved him to death?”
“Out there somewhere. Give me a break Nina, I’ve just finished my exams.” Jason turned, grimacing, to Martin. The good-natured bickering reminded him of himself and his older sister, Jenny, although Nina had been uncharacteristically terse and crabby this morning, ever since they’d started on the journey across town. Regrets about their night together? He hoped not. He had none.
“How were they?” asked Martin.
“Cautiously optimistic.” Jason grimaced again and then asked, “Where are you from? England?”
“Yes, London.”
“Staying long?”
“I’m not sure. A few more weeks, I suppose. Then I’m going to New Orleans.” Nina sat down on the lawn and patted a black cat which had strolled nonchalantly from the bushes.
Jason went into the kitchen which was separated from the family room by a counter and four bar stools. “Great! I’d love to go there. They say music just falls out of every building. Want a beer?” He opened the fridge and looked questioningly at Martin.
“Thanks. I’m not used to being this warm in November. Cheers.” He raised the bottle to Jason who smiled back and took a long drink from his.
“So what’s this music you want me to play?”
Martin put the envelope on the counter and opened it. They looked at the handwritten sheets.
Jason said, “Weird.”
“What makes you say that?” Martin’s heart skipped a beat.
“I don’t know,” Jason said uncertainly. “Handwritten I guess. Or…I don’t know. It doesn’t look very hard. Where did you get it?”
“In a secondhand music shop in London.”
Nina came back in, went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice.
“What do you think?” she asked Jason. “Can you play it?”
“Of course I can. Let me finish my beer first.”
“I thought you had to be somewhere soon. Hadn’t we better get on with it?”
Jason looked at Nina curiously. “Why? What’s up with you?”
“Nothing I just thought…” She glanced at Martin for assistance.
He shrugged. “I’m not in a hurry.”
Why was Nina so edgy today? He was fairly sure she wasn’t regretting last night. Particularly after that strange dream and the way she’d clung to him afterward, needing comfort and reassurance. She’d been a willing participant this morning too, when they woke up and then again when they’d showered together. It had taken ages to get themselves organised and dressed.
Now she was fidgety and snappy with Jason, although that could be their normal pattern, like him and Jenny. Nervous maybe, worried about exposing Jason to the music? He’d reassured her as well as he could on the way, on the bus and then the train, whispering so as not to freak out the other passengers and he thought she agreed they’d taken as many precautions as possible. He’d outlined the points to her counting them off on his fingers.
They weren’t going to play the other parts at the same time, they weren’t even taking them along so as not to be tempted.
They would only get him to play it through once or twice at the most.
They wouldn’t let him touch the music but they’d try not to let him realise that that’s what they were doing.
They wouldn’t under any circumstances tell
him anything about the music other than the bare essentials and only if he asked.
As far as Nina knew he didn’t meditate and that seemed to be a common link. Martin thought he’d be safe.
Jason and Nina had been discussing their parents while Martin cogitated and surmised, now they both slid off their stools, startling Martin out of his reverie. Nina clutched his hand surreptitiously as Jason disappeared to get his cello and Martin gave her a quick kiss.
“It’ll be all right.”
“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him,” she whispered fiercely.
“It won’t.”
“Easy for you to say. He’s not your brother,” she snapped.
Her words cut him deeper than he was prepared to let her see. She gazed at him in dismay and opened her mouth to say something but Jason came back in. Martin managed a brief smile and she touched his arm lightly.
Jason handed Nina his music stand and she set it up while he unpacked his cello and Martin fiddled with the cassette recorder. It had an inbuilt microphone but the sound would be reasonable if they got it close enough as he played. Martin experimented as Jason warmed up and eventually decided on a satisfactory position.
“Can I have a look at the part, Nina?”
She placed the music carefully on the stand and he looked at it for a few minutes.
“How fast does that first bit go?”
Martin clicked his fingers at the correct tempo. “About that. And the second section goes faster. About here.” He clicked his fingers again.
“That last part is quite free, actually,” put in Nina. “We thought I could conduct you through that.”
“Why didn’t you bring your violin and play it?” asked Jason
“It’s too hard for me. I can’t play it but I know how it should go.”
“So tell me again why you want me to do this?” Jason frowned at her.
“Jason it doesn’t matter, does it? Just shut up and play it, for heaven’s sake.”
“Got any sisters, Martin?” asked Jason in a resigned voice. Nina glanced at him. She hadn’t ever asked about his family. But then hers had only come up because Jason played cello.
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