Late Valentine Ch. 02

I frown.

'Don't worry. I enjoyed myself, and I really enjoyed the company.'

'You and Lizzie seemed to find plenty to talk about from what I could see?' I'm more nervous of the answer than I'd like to be.

'Yes. I really like her. She's my kind of woman,' she smiles at me, suddenly, her beguiling dimples interfering with my ability to think.

'Not too much so, I hope?'

For a second, I wonder if that's hit the wrong note, until her smile widens and she shakes her head at me.

'You're a bad man, Robbie Montague.'

'Just checking, since I'm not sure my fragile ego could take it if you hit it off more with my sister than with me.'

I'd meant it as a flippant comment, so it takes me by surprise when she shuffles closer to me and tucks herself quietly into my side. And then we're pulling over, the driver checking this is where I wanted her to stop.

'Where are we?' Elizabeth asks as I hold the door open.

'You'll see. Come on, it's just up here.'

She lets me take her hand again as I guide her onto the path. It's almost deserted. A couple of late-night dog walkers and that's it. As we crest the hill, we come to a standstill to take in the view.

'Oh wow, just look at that,' she exclaims breathily, the sound suddenly making me wish we were in bed already.

I look at the view, trying to see it from her perspective. 'London at night. I think it's a sight that's hard to beat.'

We survey the panorama of lights ahead of us, our eyes gradually settling and sorting out what we can see. The winking lights on top of The Shard, the old BT Tower, the City's skyscrapers and the cranes on the south side of the river. A helicopter flying west, an insubstantial thing against the expansive night sky.

A light breeze picks up the smell of damp grass and ruffles Elizabeth's hair.

'Where is this?' she finally asks, sweeping an arm around us.

'Primrose Hill. It's a good view from here, and they don't close the park at night. I think it's worth the climb, do you?'

'I do. I really do. I love this view. Thank you for showing me.'

Her soft kiss on my cheek is so sweet I close my eyes to really feel it. Memories of this morning overpower my mind; the dip of her hip bone against mine; the brush of her arms over my back; the tight slide into her.

'Home?' I ask, my voice sounding odd in my ears.

'Yes. Yes please.'

+++

My brain is buzzing so loudly I almost wonder if he can hear it too. I sit on the bed watching him shuck his suit jacket off of his shoulders and hang it over the back of the chair. He's pulling at his tie when he turns to look at me.

'What is it?'

I start to shake my head, then stop. It feels futile to pretend with him. 'I don't know. Too many thoughts filling my head, Rob. It's like indigestion of the mind.'

He smiles at my feeble description, yanking his tie out from under his collar, dropping it onto the chair also. My eyes follow his movements; the flick of his fingers, the curl of the silk. Have I always felt this way about watching a man undress?

'What can I do to help?'

He's in front of me now. I look up at him. In the low light of his bedroom he's in beautiful monochrome, all contrasting planes of light and dark.

'Elizabeth? Tell me what I can do,' he murmurs, brushing a hand over my face and under my chin.

I relax into his touch; surrender to it, relinquishing the struggle to assimilate everything I've seen and felt today.

'Come on,' he says quietly as he lifts me higher up the bed and climbs over me, settling down by my side, his hand heavy on my waist.

I watch the rise and fall of his chest tightening then releasing the cotton of his shirt and gradually let all thought fall away, attuning instead, to the sounds of his breathing and the faint rub of his fingertips over the slub silk of my wonderful dress, until I drift off into something trance-like.

Eventually -- after how long, I couldn't say -- I open my eyes. 'That view from Primrose Hill was really something.'

The rhythm of his breathing changes up. Was he going off to sleep?

'Yes.' Pause. 'I think so too. I've thought about moving there, but --,'

He doesn't finish the thought. Neither of us seem to feel the need to fill the silence. I touch the front of his shirt, just gently, but feel him react nonetheless. A small intake of breath. Slightly more pressure in his fingertips. Fleeting, then gone. As if he's waiting.

'Thank you, Rob. For today.' I roll back a little, to give the words room to breathe and be heard. 'I'm privileged you wanted me to meet your sister and the girls, and everyone.'

'It wasn't too overwhelming, then?'

'Well,' I exhale, 'I'm not going to say that, exactly. But it was -- it was something.'

He shifts his body until he's propped his head up on one hand. 'Something that was too much or ok?'

He looks somewhat anxious. And sexy. I try to focus on the anxious first.

'Too much, but also ok. I'm not kidding when I say I feel privileged. Because seeing everybody this evening, it impressed on me how much you've all been through together and what it means to you; what you all mean to each other. And you letting me join -- well, like I say, it was a special thing to be part of.'

He blinks. I wonder if his eyes are getting bigger or if that's just a trick playing out in my mind. I begin to wonder how he's feeling, now that I'm out there in his world, being discussed and speculated about. Lizzie's comment about Rob not having introduced them to anyone else slides across my mind.

'Are you planning a similarly brutal exposure of me to your family and friends?' he asks, a smile curling around his lips.

I snort. 'Hardly. It's difficult to get my mother and brother-in-law in the same room together, for one thing, and for another -- well -- there's not really an equivalent to tonight's event for my family, if you know what I mean?'

He leans back onto his pillow again and appears to stare up at the ceiling. 'No. I suppose not. Probably a bit too much, wasn't it?'

I watch him; the slight changes in his expression and in the tension of his neck and shoulders as he lies there in the low light.

'What was it like for you, Rob?'

He turns to look at me; blue eyes suddenly intense. 'A lot. But fine.'

I shake my head. 'That's what I'd call an excellent example of British understatement.'

He smiles more fully; reaches out a hand to stroke my arm.

'Mmm. Well alright then. At first it was bloody terrifying, especially when Lizzie got to you before I'd had the chance to introduce you properly. And lay down a few ground rules with her. But then it was fine, once I saw you could deal with her.'

'I like her.'

'I think that's what I might've been afraid of,' he laughs quietly and I join him.

'Not so concerned about me meeting John, Mariusz and the girls?'

'No. They are a lot more... ah... forgiving. Easy-going, I think you'd say. Although Gracie was most annoyed with me because I had to tell her she's never going to have hair your colour, even with the most talented hairdresser in the world.'

I smile, but all my energy is channelled towards stopping the flow of everything I want to say and ask from pouring out of my mouth right then. Because now's not the time. I'm concentrating so hard, in fact, that it startles me to feel his lips on the back of my hand. I open my eyes and almost laugh at such an old-fashioned gesture. But I love the feel of it too much to do that.

'Well, all I can do is to thank you for sticking it out this evening. I'm glad you were there.' He touches his lips to my hand again. 'Very glad, in fact.'

His mouth is curling into a smile as he lifts his eyes to mine. My heart and blood surge with an emotion I'm afraid to name.

+++

Half my mind is still recalling Gracie's indignant shock at being denied the possibility of having Elizabeth's Titian hair colour one day, her childish disbelief so heartfelt, but -- to me anyway, perhaps wrongly -- very funny. It'd led me down one of those convoluted conversations only young children can make happen, since she'd demanded to know how it was possible for her face to change shape as she grows (the outcome of a prior discussion with John and Mariusz, it would seem) but that her hair colour was fixed. Reaching the conclusion that some things change (height, weight, facial features) and some things will always be the same (hair colour, eye colour, skin colour barring a suntan) had taken a delightful ten minutes of intense interrogation.

The other half of my mind is watching Elizabeth's face, trying to work out what her expression might mean. It's both intent and not; focused, yet not. Needing to touch her, I kiss her hand and am gratified it brings a smile back to her lips and a dimple to her cheek. I want to look at her face forever.

The thought is shockingly loud and clear. Unbidden. And, for a fleeting moment, unexpected. And then I almost laugh out loud at myself as this morning's experience comes roaring back in all its shattering clarity. I'm in the middle of telling myself what a thick-headed idiot I can be, when Elizabeth's warm voice reminds me to step back into the present.

'Can I ask you something, Rob?'

Her eyes are unreadable in the low light. I nod. Cautiously. She sighs.

'Go on,' I encourage her, curious.

'You have every right not to tell me.'

'Tell you what?' I stroke her hand lazily with my thumb.

'I guess I'm curious what you learned about yourself with Catherine. I imagine it must have been kind of like being in therapy.'

I can't help but give out a short laugh, it's as though she's hit something so squarely on the head. She's still smiling, but definitely looking more quizzical than amused.

'What I mean is that you, umm, you know, that it seems such a bold thing to do. Being so clear about why you were there and what you wanted -- it must have been a pretty revealing thing to do. Especially for so many years with the same person. Woman, I mean. The same woman all those years.'

Her voice rises up at the end, suggesting the question rather than asking it outright. I shift my legs, restless, stretching them out, wondering how to answer her. Truthfully. It's the only real option.

'Yes. I suppose you could say it was revealing. I didn't expect that to be the case. I just -- well,' I pull her fingers into mine, 'Initially, I just wanted the sex. The release. With a woman. It seemed simple enough.' I shrug, surprised I'm finding it more difficult to talk about than I thought I would.

'And then?'

'And then --,' I pause, trying to find the right way to express it. 'And then it became something much more intimate. She -- Catherine -- was really very good at her job. Good at exploring her clients' needs and desires.'

'Like a therapist?'

I turn my head to look at Elizabeth more fully.

'I suppose so. I've never seen one, so I wouldn't know.'

'Well believe me, that's what they do.'

I store that comment away, for later. 'What do you want to know, Elizabeth? Are you afraid I'm into hardcore BDSM or something of that ilk?'

Which makes her laugh. One of those laughs that gets caught deep in the back of her throat. I reach for her, coaxing her to come closer to me. She complies.

'Well I kind of was hoping not,' she smiles at me.

'Not what you're into?'

She shakes her head.

'Well I'm not either. Tying someone up or being tied up isn't my thing. Neither is dressing up, for that matter. Or more than two in the bed.' I resist the strong urge to pull her even closer, to hold her in place as I talk. 'Nor pain. At least, not real pain. Perhaps sometimes, just a little hint of it.' I watch her, looking for any signs of panic. 'And you already know about my penchant for certain fabrics and textures.'

She blinks slowly, and raises her eyebrows. 'And?'

I think back to the sight of my come sliding down her thigh this morning. 'Well, yes. And that.'

'What else?'

I'm really beginning to get a sense of what it must be like to be on the opposite side of the negotiating table from her, with the way she's so charmingly relentless.

'I spend most days being in charge. Making decisions. Leading. Sometimes I don't want to be in charge in bed too.'

She raises herself up on one elbow, alert like a meerkat. 'Is that what the first night was about?'

I shake my head. 'No. That was about making sure you felt safe with what we were doing. We didn't know each other as well then, did we?'

She nods, acknowledging my attempt at dry humour. But her expression is still one of concentration. Expectation. She wants more from me.

'I'm not talking domination or anything so -- so obvious. It's more a case of relinquishing the lead. Not having to be the one who takes the initiative. It's nice to have a woman take the lead sometimes.'

'Huh.' She seems to think.

I wait, trying to slow my pulse.

'Thanks.' She kisses me, a light, soft press on my cheek. 'For telling me those things. I didn't know I had the right to ask, or to expect you to tell me. It's not like we've known each other that long, after all.'

She repeats my poor attempt at a joke with more aplomb than I managed.

'I'm not sure that this is just a matter of time, Elizabeth.'

We look at each other. Really look.

It's quiet. The sluicing of water down my neighbour's drainpipe outside the windows and the echo of a car door slamming from perhaps a couple of streets away. Ordinary sounds.

Do we both begin to smile, then laugh, at the same time? Me first? Her first? Does it matter? It's heady stuff. Giddy. Is it ridiculous to feel this way, at our age? Or just wonderful?

I watch as her laughing slowly subsides. As she pulls at her hair until it falls loose around her face. How had I managed to walk past this woman without even seeing her? I marvel at it.

'What are you thinking about?'

'How fortunate I am you stalked me into that shop on Wednesday.'

She narrows her eyes. 'I was not stalking you!'

'Mmm. Whatever it was, I'm glad you did it.'

'So am I.'

'What made you do it?'

'Follow you?'

I nod.

'A ton of reasons.'

The light isn't good enough to see her face very well. I reach over her to turn on the bedside light -- there's only one in here - before settling back onto the bed.

'Is this your side of the bed?' Her voice is both warm and amused. 'Usually, I mean?' She gestures towards the small table, leaning back a bit in the process and affording me a beautiful glimpse of her pale cleavage.

'Yes.'

Her brown eyes study me. 'But you still let me sleep here?'

'You seemed to like it.'

'You could have moved me, you know.'

'No. Not at all.'

She blinks. 'You had that big old leather bag over your shoulder, and you were tall. I liked the way you walked. But your head was down. I realised you were on your phone. Texting, or something like that.' She adjusts her position, bringing her legs closer to mine. 'You looked up at one point and that's when I saw your eyes were that blue colour.'

She gestures at me. At my eyes, I realise.

'And I didn't even see you.'

'Right. You looked right through me. Apologised for almost walking into me. But you didn't see me at all. It looked like your mind was a million miles away, but nowhere in particular. And then when I saw you walk into that store I just turned around and followed you. On impulse. I wanted to see more of you. Or get you to see me, maybe that's closer to the truth.' An impish smile plays across her lips. 'I watched you picking up the sweaters and decided you must be shopping for your wife. But that a little interaction with you would be a harmless way to pass the time.'

'Interaction?'

'Flirting. Some light flirting, that's all. I felt sure you were married. Why else would you be shopping for women's sweaters? And how could you be anything but married? How are you not already taken, Rob?'

I don't know how to answer her. There's too much to tell. Or too little. It's a toss-up.

I allow the sounds of more water sluicing down the drainpipe outside to distract me from that train of thought. But Elizabeth's eyes are still watching me.

'How is it that you aren't taken, Elizabeth?'

'Like I said, bad choices.'

'You've never been close?'

She hesitates, which is the real answer, but shakes her head just slightly. 'No. Not really.' A pause. 'I thought I was maybe on that track at one time. First serious boyfriend from college -- you know? But it didn't turn out that way.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Oh no, don't be. We're still friends, actually.'

'Well now I am sorry,' I retort, but she smiles at my exaggerated tone.

'You have nothing to worry about there, Rob. Nothing at all. Purely friends, is all.'

'Hmm.'

She moves closer to me. I slide an arm underneath her and pull her on top of me. The silk of her dress eases my task, making a scrooping sound against the fabric of my shirt and trousers as she shifts around to get more comfortable. My hands run down her back and over her bottom of their own accord, revelling in the contrast between her skin and the silk. I bend my knees and pull my legs up on either side of her, trapping her to me. She seems to enjoy that, tilting her hips to fit to me.

We stay like this for some time. It's peaceful. Relaxing. Mostly. Part of me is paying very close attention to the way Elizabeth feels on me, but we're both choosing to ignore it, for the time being.

+++

Neither of us seem in any hurry to do anything much more than this. Lying with each other. Avoiding the oblivion of sleep. Only a few more hours together before I fly home.

'What're you thinking about?'

I wonder if I'll ever get used to the way he appears to read my mood shifts. And shuffle down his body to get a clearer view of his face, feeling his cock twitch underneath me. He uses his hands to move my hips over to one side.

'That I have to go home soon,' I sigh.

He adjusts us again, in a way that makes me want to stay right here all the more.

'I'm struggling to recall why I need to go home at all. It feels so -- distant.'

'To get a work visa, for one thing,' he replies comfortably, sliding his hands up and down my back.

'Oh, right. That's one good reason, I guess.'

'And to sort out whatever you're going to do with your flat while you're living here?'

'You're being very practical now, Rob.'

'One of my strengths. So I'm told.'

'Hmm.'

I watch as he raises one arm up to push it underneath his head, keeping me in place with his other hand, fingers splaying out long over my lower back.

'What are your plans for moving here? Have you got that far yet, or is it too soon?'

'One of my closest friends is a realtor, and she's already working on it. Says I'll have no trouble letting my apartment back home, so that's one thing. Deciding what to ship, store or take to Goodwill is a whole other thing.'

But my mind can't focus on any of that while I'm being held like this. Wrapped. Cradled. Secure. Better than secure, I just can't think of the right word. 'I don't know how to describe this feeling.'

If he's fazed by the switch in direction, he doesn't show it. 'Does that matter?'

'Maybe. Yes. Yes, I think it does. Or it will do at some point. How else will we know if we're feeling the same way if we can't describe it to each other?'

He grunts. 'Fair point. But we can show each other, too, can't we?'

I have to laugh at the look on his face.

'Surely that's legitimate, Elizabeth?'

'I guess it is,' but the thought is interrupted because he lifts his hips. Just a little. Almost an adjustment and no more, but for the glint in his eye and the catch in my breath. And then we settle down again, returning to the quiet togetherness, banking the burgeoning pleasure for a little while longer.

'I'm not getting too heavy for you?' I ask, at some point.

'Not at all,' he murmurs. Again with the change in his breathing, as though returning from a slower, sleepier place.