Ex Libris

"Time I wasn't here," I said.

I think Lorna was surprised at the time when she glanced at her own watch. "Goodness," she said. "I hadn't realised it was so late."

I shrugged into my jacket and we went towards the door. I turned to Lorna. "I want to see you again."

Her flush was pale compared to earlier ones. "I'd like that," she said.

"Tomorrow?"

"What about tomorrow?"

"If I collect you, say about eleven? We could have a run out into the country, maybe have lunch at a pub?"

"Sounds nice. What do I wear?"

"Much the same as you are now, plus shoes and a jacket," I said, with a grin. She laughed. A good sign, I thought. I took her hands, and I could feel her tense, but I needed to know, and I pulled her gently towards me, raising my hands to her shoulders. Her eyes were huge as I bent my head to kiss her, but she didn't pull away, her eyes closing as our lips touched.

The kiss was tentative at first, gentle, exploring. I increased the pressure slightly, and felt her respond for a moment, then tense again. I held the kiss, hoping, and suddenly felt her mouth slacken, soften, and she was kissing me back, sharing the kiss, an active participant, not merely accepting. She broke the kiss, staring at me, and I smiled at her.

"See you at eleven."

She nodded. "Eleven," she said, but I don't think her mind was where we were.

I let my hands slip from her shoulders. "See you. G'night, Lorna."

"Goodnight, John," she said, and she was still staring after me as I turned the corner towards the elevator.

I masturbated when I got home, and again before I could sleep, to the memory of soft breasts against me as we kissed.

I was early next morning, ten to eleven, but she was ready, waiting. It was a fine summer day, with a forecast promise of warmth, and I'd indulged myself - I'd brought the Caterham 7 as our transport. Lorna stopped dead when she saw it, then turned to me, a happy smile on her face.

"Yours?"

I nodded. "Yep. All mine. I don't need it, but it's fun to drive on a day like this."

"I always wanted to ride in one of these."

"Well, now's your chance. Um, there aren't any doors, you'll have to step over the side." I eyed her skirt, wondering if there was enough flare to it to save her modesty, but not for the first time, Lorna surprised me, hitching her skirt up and stepping into the car, settling herself, leaving the vision of long, slender legs on my retinas. She flushed when she caught my eye, but it was a pale imitation of her earlier ones. She shrugged, half-smiling.

"It seemed easiest," she said.

I laughed. "Yes, probably. I never thought, otherwise I might have rung to warn you."

"Not to worry, I'm in," she said, a twinkle in her eye.

I laughed. "Yes, you are. Seat belt, and we're away."

It was exhilarating, as always, driving the Caterham. Being so close to the ground takes some getting used to, but the little car takes corners as if it's glued down. There was an extra dimension in having an attractive companion beside me, and Lorna was obviously enjoying the ride, her hair loose and blowing in the wind of our passage.

The car-park at the 'George' was more than three-quarters full when we got there, and I was pleased I'd phoned a reservation in. Inside, it was busy, but we were expected.

"John! Over here, man." Charlie was busy at a table in the corner, but next to him the window table, set for two, had a 'Reserved' sign on it.

"I'm glad you're on time. I would hate to let the table go if you'd been late." He looked over my shoulder at Lorna. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"Lorna, this miserable excuse for a human being is Charlie White. He just happens to be my cousin, and sometimes treats me as family. Charlie, Lorna Jens."

"Hello, Lorna," he said, and took her hand, bending over it.

"Hello, Charlie," she said, and surprised me by not flushing. Charlie straightened, and drew the seat out for Lorna. "Sit down, the two of you. I'll send Jenny over with the menus."

Jenny is Charlie's daughter, just out of her teens, cheerful, sassy, and one of my favourite people.

"Hi, Doc," she said, bending to kiss my cheek.

"Hi, yourself, sweetheart. Life treating you well?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Well, you're here, and I have a lovely lady as companion. What could be bad?" I turned to Lorna. "Lorna, this is Jenny, Charlie's eldest. Jenny, Lorna. Lorna Jens."

"Hi," said Jenny.

"Hello, nice to meet you."

"I'll be back in a mo' for your order. Any drinks in the meantime?"

"Lorna?"

"Just a mineral water, please."

"Make that two, Jenny."

"On their way." And she was off, in a swirl of skirt.

"Doc?" said Lorna, smiling.

"She refuses to call me John." I shrugged. "I sort of like it."

Lorna laughed. "Suits you. Doc."

"There are now two people in the world I will allow to address me in that way," I said with a glower. Lorna just laughed again.

I think Lorna was getting used to being with me, more relaxed, because she chatted easily about everything and nothing, while she tucked away a salmon steak, with new baby potatoes and salad, then a meringue with butterscotch ice-cream, and coffee.

Slender as she is, there's nothing wrong with Lorna's appetite, and we enjoyed the moment, sharing a meal. Finished, we sat back, relaxing over the coffee.

"What would you like to do now?" I asked her, and she shrugged.

"Nothing in mind. You?"

"It's only just turned two, the sun is shining, the day is warm, and the petrol tank is full. Just go for a drive?"

She smiled. "In your little road rocket? Yes, please."

"Anywhere particular you'd like to go?"

She laughed. "I don't know anywhere outside of town. Wherever you want to go is fine by me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but shut it again, wondering. Was it right. Lorna caught my indecision and arched her brows in query. I shook my head.

"You were going to say something," she said. "What was it?"

I had the feeling, somehow, that with Lorna I must always tell the truth. I didn't know how, it was a gut reaction. "I'm not sure if I should say anything."

"Now you have me curious. What was it?"

"I was going to show you the cottage."

"Cottage? Yours?"

I nodded. "My break from the city."

She held my eye for a long moment, and then smiled. "I'd love to see it, John. Truly."

"In that case, see it you shall. I'll just settle up with Charlie and we'll get ourselves away."

"Okay, while you're paying, I'll go and powder my nose." She giggled. "Well, that's what they say in the movies." And she was away, moving easily between the tables.

"Nice girl, John," said Charlie as I took out my wallet. "Where'd you meet her?"

"University library. She works there."

"Ah, you bookish types hang together."

I laughed. "You could say that, I suppose. She has a lot of books, just like me. So, what do I owe you?"

We were just chatting when Lorna came back from the ladies', and it was only a minute or two later that we were on the road, still laughing at the expressions on the faces of a couple of elderly ladies as Lorna did her skirt-hoisting manoeuvre to get into the car.

"So, where's this cottage, then?" she said.

"Just up the valley, here. It backs onto the river. There are trout, if you've ever wanted to try fly-fishing. There's about a hundred yards of river where I have the fishing rights."

"I don't think I could. I can only buy meat in a supermarket, where it doesn't look anything like the animal it came from, so I don't think I could eat a fish I caught myself." Lorna gave me a wry look. "I'm silly, aren't I?"

I laughed. "A little, but it's a good silly."

She giggled, surprising me. "What would be a bad silly?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know. Silly is one of those words that has a sort of feel-good factor built in. Someone who is silly could never be evil, for instance, whereas someone who is stupid could." I paused, then laughed. "Does that make sense?"

There was a long silence, and I glanced across at her, shocked to see tears rolling down her face. The road was twisting, but there was space beside a farm gate and I pulled in, stopping the car, setting the handbrake.

"Lorna? What is it?"

She shook her head, fighting a sob. I reached out, instinctively, helplessly, and she seized my hand in hers, holding onto it as if it was a lifeline. She took deep, gulping, breaths, and I sensed she was trying not to give in to her tears.

"Lorna, love," I said quietly, "if you need to cry, then cry."

Somehow, I'd said the right thing, and she gave way to her grief. I didn't know it was grief, not at first, but as her sobs eased, her story came out. It was a tale that I think many could have told, about an alcoholic father with a cruel streak, a loving mother, and a child caught between them. The difference was that Lorna's mother had fought back, and Lorna's father had been jailed on assault charges. Lorna and her mother had moved away, and kept a low profile. News had come that her father had died in prison, but too late for relief, as Anne Jens had been diagnosed with cancer. Terminal, but lingering, and Lorna had nursed her mother until her death. Alone in the world, she'd managed to qualify as a librarian, spurred by her love of books, and avoided anything but superficial contact with men.

"I'd never been on a date before you asked me out, and I still don't know why I said yes," she told me, with a tremulous smile.

"I'm glad you did, Lorna, because I've enjoyed getting to know you."

"Truly?"

"Truly? Of course, truly. Lorna, I hope you've come to know me well enough to realise that I have never lied to you?"

"I think I have, well, almost."

I raised my eyebrows. "Only, 'almost'?"

She frowned. "When you tell me you find me attractive, I want to scream and run away. I'm thinking of my father, of course, because when he was sober, he always said how lovely I was, how lovely my mother was, but when he was drunk?" She shuddered. "We were the spawn of the devil."

"Lorna? I -- am -- not -- your - father!"

"What are you, then?" she retorted.

"Your friend." I took a chance. "And, one day, perhaps, when you're ready, but only when you're ready, I'd like to be your lover."

She stared at me, shocked, mute. Then she surprised me, she smiled. Faint, yes, but a smile. "Hold onto that thought, John, and pray to whoever your god is. Why? Because that is the thought that keeps surprising me, too. Not here, not yet, but maybe, just maybe, sometime not too far into the future, but not too soon. Now? Now, I'd like to see your cottage, and then I'd like you to take me home. I've never told anyone about my father before, or about my mother, and do you know what? I think it has helped me, helped me to come to terms with the grief I've been bottling up."

I squeezed her hand. "I hope so, Lorna, I really hope so."

"It will take me a little while, I think, to exorcise my ghosts."

"As long as it takes, love. Don't worry about it."

"What about you?"

I smiled. "Don't worry about me, either. Just let me take you out a couple of times a week, okay?"

"Okay. Now, your cottage?" Her smile was faint, but it was genuine.

"It will still be there next week, if you want to go home."

"No, if we're this close, I'd like to see it."

It's nothing exotic, the cottage. At one time a gamekeeper's cottage on the edge of an estate, there was a tiny parlour, and a kitchen, surprisingly large, which I'd refitted with some modern appliances as a breakfasting kitchen. Bathroom? A toilet, hand basin, a shower cubicle, with an electric shower -- all there was room for. No tub. Luckily, mains sewerage was close by, so the toilet was modern. Two bedrooms, a double, with storage space built in wherever I'd found room, and a tiny single, which I'd converted to an office.

Lorna spotted that, straight away. "John, there's only one bedroom." Her expression was sober, but I think there was an imp lurking there.

"Yes, there is. I wanted you to know. If I ask you to come and stay at the cottage with me, we'll both know what you mean if you say yes."

"You wanted me to know in advance, so that I wasn't taken by surprise?"

"Exactly."

She gazed at me, solemn, then smiled, stretching across to kiss my cheek. "Thank you."

"I have to face myself in the mirror every morning, Lorna. With you, especially after what you said earlier, in the car, I know I always have to be honest."

"Yes, you do." She smiled. "John, I love your little cottage, and one day, I hope I'll be ready to come and stay with you. But for now, please take me home. I need to do some serious thinking."

It was a quiet drive home, but relaxed. When I asked Lorna if she'd like to go out for a meal the following weekend, she turned me down. There was a smile on her face, though, when she did.

"Not next weekend. The weekend after, perhaps. I want to be by myself in my free time, at least for a week or so. I told you I need to do some thinking, and I think I need to do some grieving, too. I've been bottling things up for too long."

"If you're sure, then of course. Just ring me if you need anything. Please?"

"I will. For now, though, goodnight. And thank you, thank you for letting me be myself." She leaned towards me, and for the first time since I'd known her, initiated our kiss. A warm kiss, more than friend, not quite lover.

I didn't see her again for almost three weeks, when she rang to invite me to her apartment for dinner.

"Just one bottle of wine, this time, John Ridley. I want my wits about me."

"Red or white?" I said, laughing, because she sounded bright and cheerful again, the Lorna she'd begun to be before her ghosts surfaced.

"What goes with spaghetti bolognese?"

"I'll get some chianti."

"Great. Come for seven."

"I'll be there."

I showered, shaved, put on clean underwear, fresh tan chinos, and a short-sleeved polo shirt, grabbed a light jacket and the bottle of chianti, and duly presented myself at Lorna's apartment at seven. She opened the door as soon as I rang the bell, and startled me by giving me a quick kiss on the lips.

"Here, give me your coat. You know where the corkscrew is, if you'd like to open the wine. First course is soup, and it just needs serving."

She kept up the Italian theme. Minestrone soup for starters, spaghetti bolognese -- delicious spaghetti bolognese -- for the main course, and ice cream for afters. We drank the wine, washed the dishes, and then Lorna excused herself for a moment.

"I'd like to change into something looser," she said. "You choose a CD for background music."

"Any preference?"

"Me? Madeleine Peyroux, Alison Krauss, but you choose. Back in a mo."

She'd been wearing a simple blouse and skirt outfit, but came back wearing a loose sweater over her skirt. She smiled.

"More comfortable now. Peyroux? Great." She sat down beside me on the couch, and leaned back with her eyes closed. I studied her. The girl I'd met in the library, the girl who flushed at everything I said, she was gone now. In her place was an attractive young woman. One who still flushed easily, true, but that was just Lorna's way. Whether she felt my eyes on her or nor, I don't know, but her eyes opened and she smiled at me. We were fairly close, and I leaned towards her, hoping she'd let me kiss her. I saw the smile come into her eyes and she leaned closer, her lips warm, welcoming, when they met mine.

I moved closer and put my left arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled into me without breaking the kiss. In the end it was me who broke it, and Lorna smiled into my eyes.

"I wanted you to do that," she said, her voice warm, soft.

"I'm glad."

"I liked it. Kiss me again."

This time her lips parted as we kissed, and her tongue stole out to play with mine. The kiss was long, and the heat was building. Lorna wasn't experienced, I knew, but she was honest, quick to learn, and seemed to want it as much as I did. This time it was she who broke the kiss, smiling at me in the honeyed glow of the lamp.

"Nice," she murmured.

"Very."

"You like kissing me?"

"Couldn't you tell?"

"I thought so, but until I met you I'd never kissed or been kissed before. It's all new to me." She giggled. "Although I have to admit, I like it." This time it was Lorna who initiated the kiss, and I fought a chuckle at the thought of a thirty-year-old university tutor and a twenty-seven-year-old librarian necking like a couple of teenagers, but I wasn't planning to stop any time soon. I was enjoying it too much.

Again it was Lorna who broke the kiss, pulling back slightly, her eyes enormous, chewing the corner of her lip.

"I, ... " she said, hesitating.

"Yes? What is it, love?"

She grimaced, then looked up, holding my eyes. "John, I, um, er, oh shit! John, I want you to touch me!" she finished in a rush.

The 'oh, shit!' had surprised me; the 'touch me' shocked me. Pleased shock, yes; delighted shock, yes, but to hear Lorna say that startled me more than slightly. I stared at her, and she flushed, almost like the Lorna I'd first asked out.

I squeezed her fingers. "You're sure?"

She grimaced again, but nodded. "Yes. I have to know, have to know if I'm going to freak out when you touch me. I enjoy your kisses, enjoy them a lot. Now I need to know if I enjoy your touch, and I think the time is now, tonight."

I didn't say anything, just drew her close, and lowered my mouth to hers. She responded eagerly, her mouth moving on mine. I wasn't going to grab, no way, because I knew that was a sure-fire way to court disaster in our relationship, but I let my free hand rest on her hip for a moment while I enjoyed her kiss, then let my hand move up, stroking her hip, her ribs, moving out to stroke her arm, up to stroke her shoulder, then slowly, slowly down to cup her breast.

Lorna was rigid, tense, waiting, but I sensed acceptance, and as my fingers cupped the softness of her breast, she shuddered and moaned softly into our kiss, her arms tightened around me, and the kiss intensified until, with a heaving gasp, Lorna broke it, staring into my eyes, a slow smile breaking over her face.

"I thought it would feel good, and it does, but I'm going to make it feel better, for both of us," she whispered, and while I was still wondering what she meant, lifted my hand off her breast and slid it under her sweater, and up, to let my fingers feel the warmth and softness of her naked breast. When she'd changed, she'd taken off her bra!

Her nipple was rigid, and I let my thumb brush lightly over it as I cupped the soft weight of her. She shuddered again, holding my eyes with hers, sucking in her breath as my thumb rubbed over the nub of her nipple. I saw the smile in her eyes and she leaned back into our kiss, her lips seeking mine, avid, hungry.

This time it was my turn to break the kiss, and her eyes searched my face. I smiled, and took a chance.

"Take the sweater off, Lorna, love, I want to see and taste as well as feel."

She stared at me for a long, long, moment, then the imp came back into her eyes and she sat up straight, her hands going to the hem of her sweater, and with one smooth movement it was off, discarded behind her. Her shoulders were back and she held herself proudly, her eyes all over my face, heat in her cheeks.

She's slender, is Lorna, with a bust to match, but there's no doubt she's a woman. Her breasts aren't particularly big, but they're beautifully shaped, with large areolae and surprisingly long nipples.

"Beautiful," I said and leaned forward, taking a nipple into my mouth, sucking, letting her feel my teeth. She shuddered again and I felt her fingers in my hair. I suckled on one nipple for a little while, then switched, worshipping the other, then let it slip from my mouth and lay back, into a corner of the couch, drawing Lorna into the circle of my arms.