Must Try Harder

"I..." I began.

"Do you..." she began at the same time.

We giggled and went through the 'you first' routine. And then suddenly there was electricity as I looked at her, a massive ratcheting up of something, time slowed and stopped and a spark seemed to arc between us. I held her gaze for a moment then she leant in to me, kissing me, first brushing her lips against mine, then pushing a little more as I responded, bewildered and disbelieving. After an eternal moment she leant back again and we looked at each other, a new feeling between us.

"But... err..." I began again then halted. Suave, Roland! Brilliant! The girl opens up to you and all you can say is 'but'.

"Once upon a time there was a supply teacher," said Alex, noting my confusion, "and she worked in the same school as this handsome history teacher. She always sat near him in the common room hoping that he'd talk to her, but he never did. So she left thinking that there was something wrong with him. Or something wrong with her. But then she met him again by chance and she got to like him."

"Alex, there's nothing wrong with you, I promise. You're beautiful, smart and kind, and I've been thinking about you a lot."

"Now that's what you say to a girl who wants to be kissed," said Alex, leaning in and kissing me again. I responded quickly, pressing my lips against hers, the tips of our tongues gently twining as her hand rested on mine.

"Of course, she wanted to go on a date with him," Alex smiled as we finally broke apart, "and she spent far too long waiting for him to ask her out."

"Point taken, milady, I would be honoured if you would accompany to the cinema on an evening of your choice. The sooner, the better."

"Tomorrow night, then."

At which point I started at the feel of something wet and slimy being pressed into my hand. Looking down I realized it was Sally's nose and I relaxed a little. I looked at Alex to see her giggling, and after I moment I smiled as well and stroked Sally's ears. Then I gave her what she really wanted, picking up the tennis ball and throwing it as far as I could and she sprinted after it, her tongue lolling and her tail wagging furiously as she chased it down.

We walked back to my car, Alex's arm in mine and I felt a comfort that had been missing for time without count. But if my conscious brain was at peace my hindbrain was whirring, warning me, and finally flashing a word across my mind that halted me: Haiti. I was leaving in ten days and Alex didn't know. I was about to blurt it out but then stopped myself, not wanting to spoil a perfect day. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

Back at the club my dad guessed immediately, smiling and nodding at me as soon as he saw me. I think Florence may have guessed as well but she was classy enough not to mention a thing. But she had been busy, telling Alex that she had invited my dad to Sunday lunch and that I would have to drive him, so it would be four of us in all. My dad grinned and I knew that he was thinking of himself as well as me; it was clear he was smitten with Florence.

I told dad about Haiti as I drove him home and he was pleased for me. He wasn't surprised that I hadn't decided on voluntary work in Jamaica; much as dad's family had disapproved of mum, so mum's had disapproved of dad. Mum had never gone back after leaving with dad, and although they never talked about it I know they were hurt by the reactions on the island. I'm half Jamaican, of course, but the place had no pull for me.

***

Taking Alex to the cinema and not dinner was strange but it had been a defensive measure; the cinema was a perfect place for a date to go bad. It would still soak up a couple of hours and make an early 'good night' less painful if one of the parties couldn't wait to get away. But with Alex we had been nattering away, good naturedly squabbling over the popcorn and trying to steal it from each other when we suddenly had to shut up and behave. The handholding was nice, though, and she didn't let me go all film.

We went for a drink afterwards, sitting on a pub terrace as the heavy, sensuous scent of honeysuckle enveloped us. I told her straight out about Haiti, not wanting to hide anything. I told her my reasons why I had to go and she understood. And I apologized for the bum timing. She leant across the table and kissed me, telling me that we still had nine days and we'd better make the most of them. I agreed wholeheartedly but was pretty certain that Alex expected to be taken back to Florence's that night, and when I told the taxi driver her address Alex squeezed my hand; I'd made the right choice.

***

Sunday lunch at Florence's was a production with Florence as the perfect hostess, filling me and dad with food and forcing more on us the way that old people will. Finally we were able to drag ourselves away from the table and Florence insisted that dad and me watch the last World Cup quarter final.

"Oh no, not football!" Alex snorted as she came into the living room.

"Guests' privileges," Florence replied, ending that particular discussion and Alex flopped down next to me on the sofa.

"I don't get what you see in it; twenty-two men chasing a ball around a field. And they get paid so much," if I had a pound for every time I'd heard that complaint...

"Let me show you something," I said, feeling a little mischievous, "give me your foot."

Alex looked at me suspiciously, then slowly lifted up her leg and lay back on the sofa, letting her foot rest in my lap. Dad glanced at me from the corner of the room where he was sitting with Florence. He grinned and I almost baulked; seducing a woman when your own father is watching feels more than a little strange. Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.

I let my finger rest lightly on Alex's instep and she started. Her eyes widened as she looked at me, and then I think she caught a little of my mischief, because she smiled and angled her head; a motion for me to continue. Very well.

"This is the instep," I explained, as I let my finger slowly slide down to the ball of her big toe, "and it's the easy part of the foot to use. It is used to swing the ball inwards."

I looked at Alex as she wet her lips, a little aroused by my sensuous stroking of her foot. I made sure I kept her gaze when she looked up at me.

"But here," I said moving my fingertips around to the bridge of her foot, "is more important. Clench the foot in the right way when striking the ball and it can impart great power. And then here," I continued, moving my fingertips to the inside of her heel, "can be used to deceive, changing the direction of the ball at a right angle, wrong-footing an opponent."

"But what about there?" she said, pointing at her smaller toes, her eyes alive knowing that I was teasing her.

"Ah, here?" I said, gently stroking. She nodded, softy holding her lower lip between her teeth.

"Here is where the subtlety is," I continued, "with an off-centre strike the ball will swerve or curve, and here," and I sudden ran my finger around and under her foot, brushing her sole. She started and let out a little gasp, shock changing to lust in a millisecond.

"That's what we stand on," I finished with a smirk. I'd tapped into a vein; she was horny but also angry with me in a half-hearted way for tickling her foot. Her expression told me that the game was afoot and I could expect as good as I had given.

We suddenly remembered where we were and pulled ourselves together. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Florence nudge my dad and suddenly they were very interested in the TV. I looked back at Alex and could see the flush across her neck, but she looked me in the eye again and slowly winked. All at once I wanted to rip that woman's clothes off.

Alex pulled her foot away and sat up on the sofa, paying attention to the game as I fought down my erection. She was determined to show she was the better tease, ignoring me precisely because she'd got me like a cat on a hot tin roof. And then she almost finished me off.

"And will you show me," she murmured after turning to face me, her breath in my ear, "how footballers use the chest?"

I dug my nails into my palm to fight down my reaction whilst Alex sat back on the sofa, satisfied now as well she might have been, the little minx. If we'd been anywhere else I would have carried her upstairs, whooping, but Florence's house was a no-go for that. I drove dad home with my legs crossed, his cackles in my ear.

***

I almost ran up to Florence's front door on Tuesday. I ran the bell and stepped back a little. Sally was the first to the door; I could see her outline through the frosted door as she waited, and I could make out her tail wagging. Then, after an age, Florence opened the door and I'm embarrassed to say that my disappointment showed.

"I'm sorry, but she's at an interview," Florence said, smiling and absolutely ignoring my shocking lack of manners (mum would have words with me in the afterlife for that one), "so it's only me. And this one is staying at home today."

Sally looked at me, her ball between her forepaws as she waited for the nice man to take her to the park.

"Sorry, Sally," I said to her as I fondled her ears, "it'll have to be next time."

Sally wagged her tail and backed away from the ball a little, inviting me to play.

"Kitchen!" Florence ordered in a firm voice and Sally obeyed, gently picking up her ball and walking away with more than one hurt backward look.

I was a little lost at the club for the first time I could remember. Without Alex there I was despondent, killing time and looking at the clock. Eventually dad sent me away, telling me to go shopping or go to the pub. By the time I came back from my aimless driving around to pick up Florence and dad I was virtually silent, uncommunicative. Dad sighed and shook his head, making my face burn when he loudly told Florence that I'd obviously got it bad.

***

Friday was oppressively hot with all the tell tale signs of an approaching thunderstorm. I had my own thunderstorm raging; I was taking Alex out to dinner, elated and yet at the same time a nagging depression lurked because this was the last time I would see her before I left. We hadn't really talked about our feelings and I felt less than confident that she felt the same as I did. I knew my dad was right that I'd got it bad, but what about Alex? Maybe this was just some casual thing, a summer romance.

"Wow!" was all I could manage when she came downstairs and made her entrance in Florence's living room, having made me wait an obligatory ten minutes. 'Wow' was about right. She was wearing lace up high heeled suede boots that came up above her ankle, dark tights (or stockings, my hindbrain prompted), a lose knee-length print skirt, a severe black top which accentuated her breasts and a well cut military style jacket. The whole ensemble was devastating and Alex enjoyed watching her effect on me.

Her conversation was infuriatingly light as I drove us to the small restaurant I had chosen. I wanted to know what was happening, but I bit my tongue; forcing this kind of issue would only ruin an evening I had been anticipating for my whole life.

"Can we talk?" I asked, unable to stop myself once the waiter had left us the menus.

"No," she said, but kindly, "we can talk tomorrow. And tonight, there is no tomorrow. Ok?"

I must have looked a little crest-fallen so Alex took my hand and squeezed it.

"Look, dummy," she smiled, "I'm here with you and," she lowered her voice, "I'm going home with you. I want you to make love to me and I don't want to think about losing you for three months. Does that answer your question?"

I leant across and kissed her, a surge of relief and emotion rushing through me. I caressed her cheek gently as our tongues locked, and I felt her breathing deepen. I stirred, and pressed myself against her lips, and I have no idea how long we kissed. The waiter clearing his throat interrupted us.

We giggled like naughty children after the waiter left our drinks and departed. It set the tone, and the meal passed light-heartedly with me telling tales of my dad when I was young and the tricks he would play on his boys. It was never anything bad and always led to an "aw, dad!" moment. Alex laughed a lot and I loved watching her laugh. And I caught that thought and savoured it for a moment; I was falling in love. It would probably hurt but I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to.

Alex hung on to my arm as we walked to my car. The storm was clearly imminent and she fanned her face with her free hand. As we reached my car she stopped, looking up at me with her lips slightly parted. I enveloped her in my arms and our kiss built our passion painfully. I tried not to speed back home, but I did cut a few corners on yellow lights.

Once inside my front door we stopped and looked at each other. The lust was clear in her eyes and I expect in mine too. I moved without thinking, taking her in my arms again and firmly pushing her back until she was up against the wall. I covered her with kisses, moving around and nibbling her ear lobe then kissing down her neck. Alex gasped and pushed herself against me, wrapping her leg around me as she held me tight.

I broke away and held out my hand to her. She grasped it and we ran upstairs. Our jackets hit the floor the moment we were inside my bedroom and then we stopped again, looking deeply into each other's eyes. And then we were on my bed. I hauled off her boots, my fingers feverishly fumbling with the laces as she pulled open the buttons on my shirt. Her tongue was on my chest and I stopped for a moment, loving the little sparks I felt as she kissed and licked me.

Then I lifted off her top to reveal her breasts underneath, currently encased in a lacy bra. She saved me any further fumbling, reaching behind her back and flicking open the clasp. She let her bra fall forward and I almost whooped. Leaning down I took her nipples softly between my lips, and spurred on by her little gasps I gently licked and nibbled at her breasts.

Her hand was suddenly on the bulge in my trousers and the pace picked up rapidly. I unzipped her skirt and pulled it down and off her. She was wearing tights over her panties and as soon as her skirt was on the floor she lifted her bum in an invitation to me to strip her completely. I needed no second invitation and I pulled down her tights and panties together, the best aroma in the world meeting me and stroking every erotic nerve I possessed.

I was naked, too, as quickly as I could yank my trousers and pants off. And then we were locked together again; our hands everywhere while our tongues were glued together. We explored each other, stroking and nibbling, touching and licking, and as I began to think I might explode I frantically reached over to the draw in my bedside table. I pulled out a condom, tearing at the foil packet with my teeth as Alex distracted me, stroking my cock and making me want to lie back and surrender. But I wanted something else more and I suspect I broke the world record speed for putting a condom on. I rolled on to her, resting between her legs for a moment, then eased myself forward, loving her little 'oh' as I finally entered her.

In contrast to our abandoned passion earlier we made love slowly at first. I felt like the king of the world now, my long strokes matched by her pushing back on to me, tentatively at first but with a growing boldness. Then we made love faster as our excitement mounted. Our endearments were mumbled and breathless as I took her with long deep thrusts until she began to urge me on, faster and harder.

I don't think her orgasm was earth shattering but that's hardly surprising given that this was our first time. I'd learnt nothing about her body really, but a lot about her passion, and I was quite conceited that I'd managed to give her any pleasure at all. There had been more than one mediocre first time in my life and this was so far from mediocre that I was grinning like an idiot even as I came, jerking so hard it was almost painful.

I flopped down onto the mattress and Alex immediately curled herself across me, her leg across my thighs and her head and arm on my chest. I wanted to say something but words wouldn't come and I think she felt the same way as we embraced, calm and contented.

After a minute or so the first blinding flash of the storm illuminated the room and Alex was out of bed and standing by the window, squeaking with excitement. I smiled and stood up, hauling off the condom and dropping it in my bin before walking over to her and standing behind her. She leant back against me, enjoying the lightning and the almost deafening thunder. Then she reached back and at a very appropriate moment she grasped me, turning and kissing me deeply. I took her back to bed.

I was alone in my bed when I woke up, and Alex's clothes were gone. I went downstairs with a sinking feeling. The house was too quiet and then there it was; the note on the kitchen table. I didn't want to read it but I knew I had to. Had this just been a bit of fun for her? I made myself a coffee first, shutting the bad news out of my mind, then sat and took a deep breath. I picked up the note.

Darling, it read, I know you want to talk but I don't think I can. Not now, anyway. Last night was amazing but now you are going away. Whatever happens I'm happy that the supply teacher let herself get seduced by the handsome history teacher from the common room, at least I have that. Email me when you can and please know I'm thinking of you, xxx.

I blew out my breath and then the phone rang, the first of many calls to wish me well, ask if I needed help packing (and that reminded me; the rest of the day was a whirl of bags and unsuitable clothes until I caught my breath and forced myself to re-pack). It was late by the time I was finished, and I was tired. I crawled into bad and set my alarm for four in the morning. I was at the edge of sleep when I realized that I hadn't called Alex. I shuddered a little, angry with myself, then I drifted off.

***

I learnt the true meaning of deprivation in Haiti. Even the smallest things made a huge difference and I threw myself into the projects that my organization was involved in. I wrote as often as I could to Alex, telling her about Haiti, and my work, and telling her that I missed her. I didn't have so much free time and the work was exhausting, particularly in the heat, but in my free moments I walked and thought, Alex's eyes prominent in my reveries.

My three months passed and by the end I was worried. Alex's emails were matter-of-fact, telling me about how hard it was for her to find a post, how Florence and Sally were doing, everything in fact, except any real reference to our relationship. It was hard to escape the conclusion that I was losing her (if I ever had her, perhaps I'd read far too much into a passing attraction), and I came back to London for two weeks depressed and grumpy.

The first thing I did when I got back was check on dad, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that my brother, and even Maureen, were doing more for him than I'd asked. Dad laughed when I mentioned this and told me how Florence had set them both straight, politely and lethally, scoring with every word as she pointed out just how much had been left on my shoulders. I couldn't help thinking it was a shame she couldn't manage it with Alex's siblings, but close family is always more difficult.

I hustled dad into my car, determined to visit Florence and Alex and set my mind at rest. But I was to be disappointed.

"I'm so sorry, Roland," said Florence, breaking bad news as gently as she could, "but Alex is in the north of England. A short term opening came up and she couldn't turn it down. She won't be back until next month."