her arm through his, her head resting against him so that he could see the crimson highlights in her dark cropped hair. On a secluded park bench they sat to share an ice lolly, the blackcurrant taste of which was on her lips as he leaned to kiss her in a way he had never kissed a girl before. When Orlando took another bite of the lolly, Rebecca began to lick the juice from his mouth with her delicate pointed tongue and they were lost in an embrace neither of them wanted to end. Rebecca laughed at his obvious hard on and teased him some more with little bites to his ear until he suggested they walk before he ruined the party.
Orlando was in love for the first time and next day sent a text to his love suggesting she might like to try sharing another ice lolly – strawberry perhaps:
“It’s a very hot day, tell me how you’d like to share the lolly Lando,” she replied.
He loved that she called him Lando but wasn’t sure how risqué he could be in his response. In his mind he knew exactly what he’d like to do with a fruit-flavoured ice lolly but he was desperate not to jump the gun:
“I was thinking more of a Calippo, Becky,” he ventured, and held his breath.
“Mmmm, sounds delicious, I love ice poles when I’m feeling hot.”
Orlando loosened his tie and felt his pants constrict. On previous occasions, he had had a quick fumble with a few of the seasonal temps down in the basement which housed the old ‘Bundles’. This was where he sometimes had to go to find some of the really old policies when folk tried to make a claim on a voided insurance policy. How would Becky feel about meeting him in ‘Bundles’, he wondered, just as his mobile beeped.
“I’ll be in ‘Bundles’ between 3 and 4pm – make sure you bring the ice pole.”
She’d read his mind, this was uncanny, uncanny and brilliant! Just brilliant!
He dug down into the freezer to find the coldest, iciest, strawberry flavoured Calippo which he prayed wouldn’t melt before he made it back to the office. Five to three and Orlando skipped down the three flights of stairs to the basement, slowing at the bottom before nonchalantly whistling his way along the corridor. He could smell her perfume before he caught sight of her sitting on the edge of the enormous wooden table that was used to unfold the old documents. Her lovely legs were crossed and she was leaning back, smiling, waiting for him. This last part he couldn’t believe.
She took the ice pole from him and began to stroke it along her thigh. She hitched up her already short skirt and he could see she was knickerless.
“Just watch,” she whispered. Rebecca leaned back and slowly pushed the lolly up between the silky curls, just a little way at first and then a bit further as Orlando’s eyes struggled to focus. She withdrew the now dripping ice pole and offered it to him to lick whilst he unbuttoned his bulging trousers. She moved closer to the edge of the table and they both licked the lolly, long and hard, their tongues just touching as she guided his hand to her wet, waiting mound. It felt cool and he twirled the hair around his fingers, gently tugging and teasing whilst they demolished the rest of the cold, fruity ice.
Orlando waited as long as he was able before easing his cock between her cool, gaping lips and those long-desired legs wrapped themselves around him. The taste of Rebecca and the strawberry ice mingled and he lifted her from the table, her arms around his neck, so that he could reach further inside and give her all of him. She drew away just at the end so that she could watch his smiling face as they cried out in unison. ‘Bundles’ would always hold a special place in both their hearts.
…. What can I say? We did exactly what it said on the tin! Except they were Tropical flavoured Calippos, not Strawberry!!
Miles went to bed with a big grin on his face and I think he managed to forget about the problems at work. And we have our weekend away to look forward to … so far so good …
Day Five – Friday 27th September
8.05 am
Friday! I was up first for a change and gave Miles tea in bed. He was all tousle-haired and sleepy.
“Where are we going tonight?”
“Not telling! My turn to give you a surprise!”
I wondered what he had in mind. I kissed him on the cheek and snuggled down beside him until it was time for him to get up.
The memory of last night is still tasting sweet on my lips! But I need to tell him soon about my plans to go to London. It will spoil things, I just know it will. Maybe there’ll be a time at the weekend when I can break it gently.
Laurent is not going to go away. I need to find out if he is planning to show the portraits. I tried to destroy them before I left Uzes, after the huge row – threw paint thinner over one of the bigger canvases – but Laurent just laughed. He promised he would never show them publicly, so why now, after ten years? He can’t need the money, surely?
Will cycle to work today, the sun is shining. Try to find a happy thought … Think of Calippos…
10.30 am
Coffee time. Had an easy morning, debriefing the class about yesterday’s visit to the gallery. Noticed Caroline had a dreamy look on her face – maybe her coffee with the busker led to better things!
Julie has managed to get a date with Alex the technician, much to the annoyance of the secretaries. She will give us all a blow by blow account on Monday morning no doubt. She knows Miles is taking me away for the weekend and has been nudging and winking, “Clock’s ticking, Beth!” I hate to tell her that Miles doesn’t want kids. It was something we agreed before we got married and it’s not up for discussion. But I seriously hope that I can change his mind. If I’m honest with myself, that’s one of the reasons behind the diary, hoping … and wishing…
It’s rather ironic that Laurent, who would have been a terrible father, was dead keen to start a family and was devastated when we lost the baby. I cried of course, but in retrospect it was for the best. He went right off the rails. Two weeks solid drinking. He said it was my fault, as he would. That was the final nail in the coffin for me.
Cheer up Beth! Time for the Rococo … I’m certainly rattling through the centuries!
12.58 pm
Out for lunch. Sandwich from Pret. Hummus and sun-dried tomatoes on sour dough. Watching the ducks again. I’m beginning to recognise them. There’s a frisky brown and white one who manages to bully his way to get the crumbs. I have taken to sketching on the margins of the diary and little duck is there – I’m going to call him Freddy – I have gone all Beatrix Potter!
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