sherry.
‘Might as well have a drink myself, even if we are stopping in.’
She sat beside him again. He stood up, took off his jacket, threw it over one of the armchairs and sat beside her again companionably.
‘I’ve missed you this last couple of days, Henzey. I really have.’
She snuggled up to him. ‘Ooh, tell me again.’
He chuckled. ‘I have, honest. I’ve really missed you. I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I don’t mind that we’re stopping in tonight. At least I’ll have you to myself.’ He took another quaff of beer.
Henzey took a sip of her sherry and smiled contentedly. ‘You know, I like this house,’ she commented, looking round her. ‘It’s so much bigger than the one we lived in over the road, isn’t it?’
‘Your mother’s got it nice.’
‘Oh, it’ll be even nicer in time. You should see upstairs now.’
‘I’ve seen upstairs. Well, I’ve seen the new bathroom.’
‘You should see the difference now. Come up with me and have a look. I’ve got to go up and check on Ezme again, anyway.’ She took another sip of sherry and put it on the table as she arose from the sofa. Billy followed her upstairs.
Henzey gently opened the door into Ezme’s room and walked over to where she lay. The old lady seemed to be sleeping soundly enough, but grunted once.
‘God, she looks pale,’ Billy whispered.
‘Poor old soul. If I ever get like that I hope they’ll put me down. I never want to suffer. I’m too much of a coward. I remember my dad…’
Billy took her hand. He led her out of the room and out of the mood. ‘Nice, big landing,’ he said brightly. ‘Now show me your room. I’ve never seen your room.’
She feigned primness. ‘My room? Hey, I’m not sure that’s quite the proper thing for a young lady to do,’
‘Oh, it’ll be all right, Henzey. I shan’t disgrace you by being indiscreet.’
She laughed and, still with her hand in his, she led him along the landing to the room at the end, overlooking the back of the house. It was small and, in it, was a new single bed with a pale blue bedspread, a dressing table, covered with an assortment of make-up and bottles of perfume, and a tall cane whatnot standing in a corner bearing a cyclamen in flower. The walls were painted in a cool, pale blue and the woodwork was white. A photograph of her father as a very handsome young man hung on the wall opposite her bed.
‘I say, this is really nice,’ Billy enthused. ‘Did you pick the colours yourself?’
She sat on the bed, looked around her, and nodded. ‘I like it. It’s all my own. A whole room to myself. I can still hardly believe it.’
He sat beside her. ‘It’s cool, like you.’
‘What is?’
‘Blue. It suits you. Reflects your personality…and it matches your eyes.’
She flashed a smile at him for the compliment. ‘Think I’m cool, do you? D’you mean cold?’
‘No. Definitely not cold, Henzey. Not you. Cool. Sometimes a bit aloof. Like when I got here and you said I could still go out by myself if I wanted. As if you didn’t care.’
‘Oh, Billy, is that how I seem?’ She looked at him earnestly, and she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Billy, I do care. Maybe more than it shows. Maybe more than is good for me.’
He saw the love shining unmistakably at him through her soft, sincere eyes, and he kissed her. His lips felt so good. It would be forever impossible to have a surfeit of his kisses. She could happily kiss him till eternity. She offered no resistance when he pressed her backwards so that she was lying on the bed; no resistance at all. Gently he rolled on top of her, their lips still touching, and she realised the joy of having his weight upon her. After a while they broke off their kiss and his lips brushed her throat and her neck, as light as the touch of a feather, then lingered at her ear. As she felt his warm breath she experienced sensations up and down her spine that she could not control. She could feel him pressing against her, urgently, and her heart beat faster at the pleasure of it all. They kissed more, lingering, savouring each other’s lips. He rolled on to his side and she shuffled to face him, smiling trustingly. His knee slid between her thighs and she liked the feel of it. But the familiar mental barriers arose inside her head like intruding demons.
With no hesitation Billy unfastened the buttons at the front of her blouse and she knew that from this moment, unless she stopped him, there would be no turning back. The familiar fear of getting into trouble taunted her, though she desperately wished to fight it. Now Billy’s hands, so smooth, so caring, were inside her brassiere, gently fondling her breasts. It was such bewildering pleasure. As she felt his mouth on hers again she thought of her mother, and what would happen if she allowed herself to give in to her physical desires and got into trouble as a result. While she desperately wanted to be whisked along on this tide of passion, she wrestled with the years of indoctrination. She was being pulled one way by apprehension, the other way by yearning. It was like a tug of war.
But desire was gaining the upper hand.
Her blouse was all undone, the shoulder strap of her underslip was halfway down her arm and her brassiere was loose. She wriggled and thought she was going to burst with ecstasy when Billy’s tongue settled on one of her nipples, teasing it unmercifully as it hardened. He undid the waistband of her skirt and opened it up with his delving, free hand. Her underslip was up, baring her midriff, and he nuzzled his face into her soft belly, venturing lower and lower with his mouth. Before she knew it, her skirt was off, slid under her bottom and down her legs. His hand stopped to explore the smooth, bare flesh above her stockings before he kissed her there, too. Her heart was pounding hard, and her breathing was in faltering gasps. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him, feeling his warm, gentle kisses all over her body, tingling, tantalising, so scandalously tempting. What on earth would her mother have to say if she could see her now, down to her underwear, her underslip around her waist, her brassiere there, too, and Billy sprawled over her, kissing her thighs?
It was then, with thankfulness and relief, that she remembered there need be no guilt any more. She had been freed of it. There could be no more threats. Her mother had condoned this sort of thing by her own example. Her mother had behaved like this, also lured by love and by desire; by her own admission; before she was married.
So could she.
She sighed vocally at both the realisation and the astounding sensations Billy was inducing.
‘My angel,’ he breathed, pushing himself up the bed to face her and to lie alongside her again. ‘Have I shocked you?’
‘Shock me a bit more,’ she breathed. ‘Shock me a bit more.’
‘Henzey, I want you.’ His voice was as soft and warm as his kisses. ‘God, how I want you.’
She sighed at the clean, manly smell of his skin. She sighed even more as he slid her knickers down her legs. ‘Oh, Billy, I love you so much.’
As she lay there afterwards she did not know how she felt.
