Between The Lines Ch. 05

I'd tried to look casual when I answered but, to be honest, I was starving and I was relieved to find that she was too. "I saw the way you looked at your plate," she said, "you hardly touched the sushi at all and...."

"I'm used to being served the fish," I answered, "the bait's never appealed to me."

And that's how we came to be seated at the table in her tiny kitchen, talking about things that were nowhere near as important as the things we didn't. She'd asked me about my 'inheritance' and I'd told her how I planned to 'dispose' of most of it.

"I don't feel it's really 'mine,' you see, Penny," I explained, "and I've no idea what kind of things were done to accumulate such a fortune."

"Don't you like being rich, then?"

"Jesus! It's what I've always dreamed of, to be honest but... when it comes right down to it, the answer's probably 'no.' Maybe if I'd made a fortune out my own efforts then... well... perhaps. I'm going to keep enough to be comfortable, Penny. I mean, I've never really had a place of my own, so I quite like the idea of having somewhere to call 'home.' And having some properties that are rented out... well, that means I've got a regular income... so I can afford to be a bit more choosey about what I do. But I'm just not cut out to join the ranks of the idle rich."

She'd grinned at that and, in a strange way, I think she liked it. I told her that one of the large properties I now owned -- something similar to her parents' place -- was going to be converted into a hospice. The 'Smith fortune' was going to pay both for the work and for all the equipment that would be required. Much of the remaining cash would be put in a trust fund to cover the cost of running the place.

"I said you were a real softy, didn't I," she said, and then, "I think Norah would have approved. Who's organising it?"

"My accountant, she's a smart cookie! She's the same one who's looking after the finances for the production company... you met her, didn't you?"

"Yep... you're sure you're not judging her by her looks, Jack?" Penny teased with a smile, "she is very attractive."

"No... definitely not," I answered truthfully, "anyway, I don't go for married women."

"What makes you think she's married?" Penny asked with a strange look on her face.

"Have you never heard of wedding rings?" I asked.

"Of course... but have you never heard of camouflage?"

"What?"

"Jack... you're supposed to be a man of the world," she said, clearly amused, "but you're a typical man... you look without really seeing." I was still confused, and showing it, so she went on, "Your gorgeous financial advisor is gay, Jack. She wears the ring for the same reason myself and Dee used to when we went out... to keep the wolves at bay!"

"How do you...?"

"When we were on our own for a few minutes it became fairly obvious," she grinned; "Nothing happened... but the offer was fairly blatant... and I'd be lying if said I wasn't tempted." She saw the look on my face -- they call it 'gobsmacked' in some places -- so she went on: "Remember what I said, Jack... I don't lie and I don't cheat. As far as I'm concerned, our relationship hasn't been resolved... I don't know whether we're going to continue or not and, until I do, there definitely won't be anyone else in my life."

The first thing that popped into my head was a deep sense of regret that I'd told her all about my unconsummated 'affair' with Rosemary but, as if she could read my mind, she said, "what happened on the ship, Jack... it doesn't mean anything. At the time you believed that I'd been deceiving you and you genuinely thought we were finished -- besides which, it was worth it for the entertainment value!" and she went off into a fit of giggles.

She was right, of course, I had believed that it was all over between us, and I'd begun to realise how much I missed her and desperately wanted to sort things out between us; I just didn't think I was ever likely to get the chance. I'd already begun to doubt the 'evidence' of the photograph, and now I understood why she hadn't wanted to identify herself as the mysterious Millie von Koch at that time.

As she'd explained, that episode had happened when she'd had the most enormous row with her parents and left home to seek her own life. She was living in a crumby flat, working as a shop assistant during the day and a pole dancer in the evening but, not used to economising, was getting further and further into debt. The offer of some 'glamour' work -- even if it was to include a little bit of 'soft' porn -- had seemed like a quick way to get on her feet again.

Norah had remembered her as a talented actress and, wanting to find her and explain why she'd set her up to fail in the porn business, had put her name down as the preferred option for the mini-series she intended making. They'd both been completely stunned when they'd met again on that Sunday and, while I'd been happily getting pissed on very good scotch, they'd talked together for ages.

Unfortunately, although Penny had made it very clear that she didn't want to appear in front of the cameras -- that her interest was in writing rather than acting -- Norah had undergone a collapse the following day before she could tell the director about the change of plan.

Penny had ended up being informed that her playing the lead was an immovable condition of the production going ahead. That was why she'd been so upset.

"Would you have told me that you and Millie were one and the same?" I'd asked.

"Of course I would!" she answered without the slightest hesitation. "But then we got involved in your reminiscences about it all, I just thought the time wasn't right. I was hoping to get in touch with Freddie... you know... the director... the next day, to tell him to talk to Norah about it. I knew that once he did that, the problem would disappear and I planned to tell you all about it then. I can't make you believe me, Jack... but it is the truth."

"Whatever you may think, Penny," I said carefully, "I really do prefer the truth... even if it's painful. The truth can be dealt with... it's the rest that can't." This, of course, brought us back to how much truth I thought I could take.

"What's the worst thing that's ever happened in your life, Jack?" she asked.

"Worst that's happened or worst I've done?" I responded.

"Either... I mean... both."

It didn't take long to think of some bad things... but the worst? I had to think for a few minutes and she made us a cup of hot chocolate while I considered it. By the time she'd settled back in her chair, I'd made up my mind, so I took a deep breath and began:

"There're too many bad things that have happened to really choose one, Penny. I'd probably start with being orphaned when I was four years old... because I can't even remember my parents. I mean, I know about them; my dad was a builder's labourer, mum was a housewife. They were killed on a pedestrian crossing by a boozed-up driver who was well over the limit.

"Being put in care and growing up in an institution wasn't a lot of fun. Being teased about coming from the Children's Home when I went to school was hard to take; and being bullied because of it was horrible. Failing on that TV show must be up there with the best... or should I say 'worst' of them. As I said... loads of things; but seeing that photo of you for the first time... that was the one that really gutted me. I thought my life was over at that moment.

"I mean... I'm sorry; I know you'd already said you weren't in love with me... but I'd still thought there was something a bit special between us and I had such complete trust in you. With my kind of background, it isn't easy to give that kind of trust... I mean... I...."

I couldn't go on; not without breaking down and making a compete tit of myself -- so I stopped and took a deep breath as Penny reached across the small table and took my unresisting hand in hers, then I said:

"I was wrong to jump to conclusions... I realise that... and I'm sorry; I truly am sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be...." She began, but I went on quickly:

"So that was close to being the worst thing I ever did... but there was something that happened at the orphanage that was a lot worse." I saw the attentive look on her face as she tried to work out what was coming next, and I wondered if I'd have the courage to tell her something that I'd never talked about to anyone before.

"The place I was at wasn't anything like the kind of places they have nowadays, Penny. It was an old and very grim Victorian building and some of the people who worked there should never have been allowed near children. I had a good pal -- his name was Gerry -- and he was a year younger than me. He was a good-looking lad with blonde hair and blue eyes. The pair of us shared a sense of humour and we used to make up jokes and stories -- I guess it was a way of keeping some of the misery at bay.

"Anyway, there was this guy who worked there... a horrible big bastard named Arthur... who was rumoured to be a bit too fond of the young lads. He was no problem to me. I was quite an ugly little sod in those days... hard to believe when you look at me today, eh?" I said with a weak grin, and saw her respond with a tight, uncertain smile. "But he made Gerry very nervous.

"Well... one day we were all taken swimming at the local public baths... it was one of the 'treats' the local council arranged for us. But poor Gerry wasn't able to go because he hadn't completed some task he'd been given. He was left behind and Arthur -- we called him 'farty arty' - was left to look after him.

"By the time we came back, Gerry was lying in his bunk, crying his eyes out. He wouldn't tell anyone what had happened... not even me. I don't think I ever got a conversation from him after that... but there wasn't really much opportunity. A couple of days later, Gerry went missing. He didn't get on the bus after school and no one knew where he was. They eventually found him hanging from a tree in a nearby park. He'd used his belt to hang himself. He was twelve years old at the time."

I've no idea when the tears had started, but they were flowing down my cheeks very freely and, when I looked at Penny, I saw that she was crying too. "Jack...." She began, but I ignored her, the story had waited long enough to be told and I needed to finish it.

"A couple of the older lads told me what had almost certainly happened. They explained what Arthur liked to do to young boys and I felt anger like I've never known, either before or since. I went looking for Arthur and I found him in the kitchen. I started to shout, but he just laughed and went back to peeling some potatoes so... well... it was real 'red mist' time, I suppose. I snatched the knife off him and... well... when he went to grab it back... I... I stuck it his eye."

"Oh my God!" I heard her whisper.

"By the time I came out of the juvenile offenders' institution I was nearly sixteen. I never went back to the orphanage, of course. Well, I couldn't have done. All the things that were wrong about the place were carefully covered up... but the place was closed down and the building was demolished. I heard a rumour that farty-arty -- or 'Cyclops' as the boys had taken to calling him after I'd put his eye out -- eventually became a recluse and died a lonely death a few years later... but I don't know if it's true or not.

The authorities found me some foster carers when I was released, and I started working as a labourer on a building site. I liked the work... and I worked damned hard because it helped to ease the pain of the memories when I went home feeling exhausted.

"The thing that surprised me the most, though, was the kind of banter you get on building sites. I'll tell you something... if you ever want to hear some good, original jokes... then that's the place to be. The guys that work like that may look as if they're scruffy and muscle-bound, but the kind of wit you'll find there... well, it matches anything you'll find in any lawyers' offices!

"Eventually, I started going to the local theatre and I became completely absorbed in the comedy acts. Then I watched every comedy show I could on TV... and every movie. I knew what I wanted to be and I started performing -- after begging someone to let me try out for it - and I soon realised that making people laugh was almost like... I don't know... keeping my pal's memory alive, I suppose."

I dried up then, realising that I was starting to ramble but, when I looked up, I saw that Penny was wiping her eyes and then her smile became radiant when she looked at me again.

"I've never talked about it before," I said, feeling helpless and incredibly vulnerable.

"Thank you, Jack." she replied very quietly, "it's my turn to answer the same questions... I've got things I want to share with you... but I think we should sleep on it first. That's if you don't mind?"

I just shook my head. My mind was still elsewhere, I suppose -- probably swallowed up by memories I thought I'd managed to bury long ago -- so distracted that I was barely aware of Penny taking me by the hand and leading me gently into the bedroom.

The room was small and neat and it contained the kind of bed that is often called a 'prince' -- 6 inches narrower than a standard 'double' -- which made it ideal for the available space. It was probably the lingering fragrance of her subtle perfume that brought me back and made me suddenly realise where I was (although the fact that Penny was standing in front of me and, very slowly, beginning to unfasten my shirt buttons probably helped), I said:

"I thought you told me you I'd be sleeping in your spare room?" but she was pressing her lips to my chest and pretended not to hear. "I bet you don't even have a spare room, do you?" I teased.

"As a matter of fact I do, Jack," she murmured as she unfastened my cuffs and eased the shirt off my shoulders, "and you're welcome to sleep in it if you want to." Then, as her arms went around my neck to draw my face towards her, she added; "It'll be tricky, though... there isn't actually a bed in there!" and before I could say anything else, her sweet lips were being pressed to mine.

I wanted it to last for ever. I didn't want to move at all. I was perfectly content just to stand there and feel her lovely body pressed so closely against mine and taste the probing tongue that found its way into my mouth but, finally, she gently broke away and said; "Are you sure this is what you want you want, Jack? Are you really certain?"

For a few seconds I held her almost at arm's length and allowed my gaze to wander down over her magnificent body. I could sense her unaccustomed discomfort as my gaze took in the view of the tops of her lovely breasts, watching them swell with each deep breath beneath the fabric of her burgundy coloured dress; lingered on the smooth firmness of her waist, and drifted down to the gentle, feminine swell of her hips before surveying the long curving shape of her legs. I remembered being told that a woman's clothing was perfect when it made a man want to see what was beneath it rather than when it allowed him to see for himself; that there was a very important dividing line between something that revealed too much and something that invited discovery -- and being told that the dividing line was called 'style.' It was something that Penny possessed in a way that I'd rarely seen before.

Then, just as my examination was beginning to make her seem a little ill at ease, my eyes returned to the most important part of all -- to the slightly severe looking face that became so enchanting when she smiled; the face meant that so much to me and, above all, to the beautiful, pale-green eyes that so thoroughly bewitched me.

I stroked her reddish brown hair delicately as, holding her gaze, I told her; "It's what I'll always want, Penny... it's what I'll want for the rest of my days. I can't help myself... because I lo...." I was halfway to saying it, but she pressed a fingertip to my lips and said;

"Not now, Jack. Not yet... please." And then she began to kiss me again.

Moments later, by simply undoing a single fastening, I was able to release the halter-necked dress and let it fall -- smoothly and gracefully -- to the carpeted floor. I suppose I must have glanced down again, because the image of the plum-coloured bra and pants; along with a matching suspender belt and the sheer black stockings are etched so firmly in my memory that they'll remain there to my dying day. And yet, the most abiding memory is of her eyes -- of the moistness in those viridian guardians of her soul that, for once, I correctly interpreted as the soft tears of surrender.

As gently as I could, I reached around her and unclipped the strap of her bra, then slowly drew the straps down from her shoulder while I leaned forward and brushed the flesh of her long, exquisite neck with my lips and felt the tantalising shiver that seemed to flow through her body.

Her arms had found their way around me again and her warm body pressed tightly against me so I could feel her breasts being crushed against the hairs of my chest -- so fiercely that I could even make out exactly where the firmness of her excited nipples met my flesh. My left arm snaked carefully around her slender waist while the fingertips of my other hand combed through the softness of her lovely hair, traced a line across her chest and slipped between us to brush against the softness of her breast. For a moment or two I allowed myself the simple pleasure of feeling the vibration of her heartbeat before softly enclosing the yielding, rounded flesh in the palm of my hand and exploring the tiny ripples of her hardened nipple.

I heard the faint cry of pleasure as my fingers closed on it, and felt the soft waft of her breath disturb the hairs on my chest; then I drew my head back a little way because I wanted -- no, needed -- to see her face again in order to believe that this was really happening. And when our eyes met it felt like our minds became fused together by a surging spark of power that made me tremble, making me almost afraid of being overwhelmed by it.

Slowly, as if we were floating weightlessly in a space that belonged only to us, our lips were drawn together by some unspoken mutual thought, and a glorious tingle seemed to spread from that meeting point into every cell of my body. I realised after a moment that Penny's hands had moved down from my chest and begun an examination of the clasp that held my trousers in place; and then, only a second after that realisation, felt the release of the fastening and heard the zip being carefully drawn downwards.

I kissed her very softly on her neck and then her shoulders as her own lips gently brushed against one of my nipples; as her tongue circled the flesh around it and then as it was drawn unhurriedly into the warmth of her mouth. At the same time, her hands moved onto either side of my waist, slipped inside the material of my boxer shorts, spread her fingers wide, and began to steadily ease them down.

Her soft breast gradually slid from my grasp as she moved her head further down my frame and I knew she would have seen my cock, rigidly at attention, spring free from the encumbrance of my clothing. The thought was confirmed a moment later when I felt her cool, smooth fingers start to wrap themselves around the base of it; and I was utterly dumbfounded when, moments later, she eased herself down onto her knees in front of me and looked up to observe my reaction when she delicately kissed the tip of my engorged erection. She paused for a second or two and then, lowering her face a little, she softly clasped my scrotum and kissed each of its delicate orbs in turn, then flicked her tongue against the base of my engorged cock and gracefully ran it up the full, throbbing length.