Freeing Kirsty

Kirsty looked at him softly. She leaned forward and took one of his hands.

"Are you still bleeding?"

Merrick told the truth. "The funny thing is that it lifted in here late yesterday. I'd just come back from the kitchen with the anti-septic ointment, tube of arnica and plaster. I-I..."

"Yes," breathed Kirsty, squeezing his hand.

"I-I saw you lying there, asleep. So angelic. The image I captured could have graced any of the walls of the Frick Collection.

"Oh God," gulped Kirsty, turning away to try to conceal an unexpected flush of tears.

But Merrick appeared not to have noticed.

"At that moment I realised the shroud had lifted."

She sobbed, tears streaming down her face. In one graceful, athletic movement she pulled herself erect and stepped out of the bath and fled the room.

Merrick was nonplussed. What there someone at the door, or had she remembered she owed him a cup of coffee?

He dried himself, wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the bedroom, discretely coughing as he neared the doorway.

She was standing facing the door, in pale green knickers and garter belt with stockings already attached. A pale green bra dangled from her hand.

"May I help you with that?"

She nodded.

With practised ease - Kate had liked such intimacy - Merrick went behind Kirsty and took the garment from her lifeless hand. He encircled her with it, did up the hooks and then reached around her and cupped each warm, freshly bathed orb into its support cup. He stretched the material out in front of her slightly, and she wriggled herself into a position of maximum comfort. He then bent forward and kissed her right below her right ear.

Kirsty's legs began to crumble but in a swift, powerful move Merrick spun her around and the shock of that returned energy to her legs.

"Right," he said authoritatively, "What goes on next"

"The white leather skirt," she said, her smile returning.

Both of his hands ran down her thighs and lower legs as he stooped to pull up the skirt she'd stepped into. She shivered and sighed.

"Next?"

Her eyes shot open at that command.

"The matching light green shirt, silly," she said. Then looking around realised it was still in the wardrobe.

Returning with it she appeared conscious of his gaze - his appreciative gaze - on her bra-encased breasts.

He stood behind her, helping her into the shirt. His hands rested on hers as she did up the buttons, fumbling as she did so. "Come, let's go out for breakfast," he said. "Are you otherwise engaged today?"

She shook her head.

"I'd like you to come with me to Bellmore to meet my mother's sister - you will be entranced by her. She's nothing like the old bat she may have sounded like when I was talking to her on the phone."

Kirsty licked her lips.

"Very well, I'd like that. But your aunty will consider I'm dressed like a whore. I should change."

"Please don't - I want you like this."

"Very well. I'm ready to go. You need to understand this: I haven't been on a real date in years."

As they left Merrick thought this was like walking a dream. It seemed so unlikely and yet she was like no other woman he'd ever met - so assured and classy and yet a self-confessed moll. To be invited to join her in her bath hours after they;d first met and yet hadn't had sex seemed so weird but with her, the way she projected herself with such confidence and directness, it really seemed less that weird. His word for it was unbelievable and he anticipated more was to come.

To Be Continued