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(1) New Bloke
(2) Truth or Dare
(4) Tom's Story
(5) Adam's Story
(6) Adam and Jasper
(7) Dinner for Two
(10) The Cottage
(13) He Who Dares
(15) Meet the Media
(18) A Night at the Ballet
(20) Sean and Will
(22) A Visit to Sydney
(24) Remorse and Love
(29) Sean and Emma
(30) Will and....
(31) That Which We Are, We Are
(32) Lunch in Carlton
(35) Grand Final
LUNCH IN CARLTON (32)
Emma and Sean had arranged that he would ride to the Beaumont house and then they would go together in the car to the rehab center to fetch Will. They hadn't seen each other since their impromptu dinner two days earlier.
“G'day.” Sean couldn't meet Emma's eyes. His mind kept going back to their last meeting, to what had nearly happened. It wasn't as if he didn't feel that it was all OK. It was, with him, and with her, he was sure. They had crossed some vital threshold, and there was no going back. That was all settled. But he was uncertain about how you dealt with a friend, a good friend, someone you liked but still in some ways an unknown. He had never connected so quickly with someone before. He was still surprised by it, by how she and he had reached across the gulf between them for Will's sake.
He had never had a best friend. He'd always been too ashamed of himself, of his family, of the succession of shabby homes he'd lived in. And though he wasn't aware of it, the impression he gave to others kept people from attempting intimacy. Will had been drawn to him precisely because he seemed so tough and brutal. It had been a while before Sean had known he was in love, despite their physical intimacy. Sean had never really had an equal relationship with a woman. He'd never been in love before. He'd half-despised the women who were in love with him. And he'd never seen them as friends, even though he'd wanted them and needed the sex with them. What he felt for Emma was entirely new.
“Come in. I'll just be a minute.” Emma had tried to talk herself into commonsense and ease before Sean arrived—she knew she would feel shy in his presence—but it hadn't worked. Everything she has planned to say went out of her head. But even though she was tongue-tied, she knew what she wanted now. She had no idea how they were going to make it work. And even though she was shy with him, she didn't feel uncomfortable. She was reassured to see that Sean was diffident. He'd seemed so strong and capable that it was comforting to know that he was human after all. And it was good to know that she wasn't the only one wondering where to look and what to say and what to do with her hands.
“Yeah, roight. A minute!” Sean's tone was sly and slightly mocking, glad to tease, filled with affection.
“Behave, poltroon.” Immediately she'd spoken, she felt she'd made a fool of herself. What did this man know about Shakespeare?
But Sean's eyes were dancing. “I am not a... what you said.” He knew she wasn't trying to make herself out to be cleverer or better educated than he was. He trusted her. This was another new feeling. A small knot of fear and anger untangled itself inside him.
“It means a coward. From Shakespeare. But, really, it's just a perfect insult. Somewhere else he calls someone a 'bull's pizzle'.” Her eyes gleamed with enjoyment. She had no doubt that Sean would understand what a pizzle was.
“A poltroonish pizzle. It's a worry.” Sean's pun, his placid acceptance of her display of erudition reassured her that all was well. His lean body had relaxed, and she admired the sweet swell of his shoulders and biceps as he took off his leather jacket. The off-hand way he did this showed how little he cared, or, perhaps, how confident he was that he looked good. She suspected it was the former, but wouldn't have minded if it had been the latter. She didn't like vain men, but she believed that a man should be comfortable with himself. Sean was sure of his own worth, neither to high nor too low.
She was all at once immensely happy. “Would you like some tea?” She remembered her manners at last.
He shook his head. “Nah. Thanks. Anyway, ya've only got a minute.”
She grinned at him and went back upstairs to finish.
As she drove to the Bainbridge institute, her happiness and confidence faded and were replaced by apprehension. This was the first time that Will was going to be in a social situation since his suicide attempt—one with strangers, too. She feared it might be too much for him, too much activity, too many people. She wondered how often he had put on a face when he'd met strangers before, how deep the lies had gone, and then, nervously, what he would be like when all this was stripped away, as it had to be, she knew in her heart.
As if he intuited exactly what was going through her mind, Sean asked gruffly, “Worried?”
“He'll be OK. He has us.” His matter-of-fact confidence, the way he included her in the equation as if it were a no-brainer made her warm inside. “And they're good blokes, Jasper and Mark an' them. They'll help.” He waited for a moment while she negotiated a stopped tram and the passengers getting off it. “And anyway, he needs some new friends. Those wankers at his office aren't worth shit.”
Emma smiled to herself. Just a few days ago, the protective tone in Sean's voice would have made her hackles rise. Not that she disagreed. None of Will's office colleagues had bothered to phone her to ask how Will was. She didn't know where Will was going to work when he was better, and that was a concern, because they would struggle to afford the house on her income alone. But she was sure he wouldn't miss many from his old workplace. The money didn't matter anyway—they had a chance to start afresh, to do things differently, and if they had to do it from a small house in an unfashionable suburb, she didn't honestly care. Not any more. She had learned the hard way what was really important. She didn't intend to forget that lesson quickly.
However, she still didn't know whether Sean would live with them. Even if she accepted it, would Sean? And Will? She didn't know how that would work. Sean was far more than the male equivalent of a mistress. He was part of their life. He had to be. Would Will go to Sean three or four times a week? She knew Sean had to be part of her life too, even though she didn't know how they would make it happen. If Sean was outside the link between her and Will, it—maybe everything—would fail. And that was no longer acceptable.
Will was ready, waiting for them when they arrived. They both kissed him. She noticed that without either of them saying anything, she and Sean were taking turns to be first. Her conviction grew that it would be all right. She was too practical to believe that they wouldn't have quarrels, that there wouldn't be rough patches. But what counts is character, the strength and courage and compassion and integrity of those you love, and who love you. She was sure now that Sean was a good person, strong and safe, but also caring and gentle. She couldn't help wondering what it would have felt like to have him next to her, in her, to hear him cry out in pleasure, to cuddle with him afterwards. She put the thoughts out of her mind, but without any sense either of guilt or expectation. Que serait, serait. The French would understand. And she would tell her mother soon. Soon. It was time.
They didn't speak much in the car on the way to the Carlton house. Sean had gotten into the back seat when they'd come out to the car. The silence disconcerted her, but she did not know what to say. She caught Sean's eyes in the rear view mirror, and immediately felt better when he winked at her. When they reached the house, there was a tense and anxious pause while they waited for someone to open the door.
It was Fiona. “G'day.” Her smile was genuine. Her sharp clever eyes summed them up. It didn't bother Emma. She could see the empathy and compassion in her face. She could also see the toughness, the directness and strength, the formidable honesty. She was a little intimidated. “Come in.”
Fiona held the door for them, and then led the way through to the kitchen, where there was a large, worn pine table. On the table were several bottles of wine, and some bowls of salad. A strong smell of garlic and rich food filled the room.
“Oh! I didn't bring anything!” Emma was deeply embarrassed at having forgotten such a basic social necessity.
“But there's plenty!” It was the impossibly handsome man with straw hair and friendly blue eyes.
Sean indicated the two bottles of wine he'd brought. He grinned at Emma. “Duh!” he grunted. “Women! Who needs food?” He put his hand on Will's shoulder. “Will, this is Tom Siedentrop. Tom, meet Will and Emma.” He spoke carefully, avoiding both the fake too-bright tone of a jolly carer and the indifference of someone who didn't care. He was surprised and somewhat concerned when Will became animated. He could feel Will trembling under his hand. He pressed down onto Will's shoulder, trying to reassure him, reminding him that he wasn't alone, while he wondered what was wrong.
Will said, “Tom Siedentrop? From Archbishops?”
“Yeah.” Tom smiled at Will. But Sean could see a slight discomfort and distaste come into his eyes. He realized that Tom was being nice to Will, that he didn't actually want to reminisce or boast. Sean was grateful to him. He gave Tom a smile, and was unaware how beautiful and attractive it made him look, how his grey-blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and passion and goodwill. The contrast with his normal strong taciturn expression, with the dark brooding menace, was a shock. But then it occurred to Sean that maybe that Tom was afraid that the whole media dramas of his and Adam's relationship would be revisited, and his smile thinned. He tensed, waiting for Will to speak.
“That was an amazing goal, against the Saints, when di Natale passed the ball down to you and you came from the left like that and, I mean, from that distance, you were just, man, it was so fuckin' fantastic!”
Sean hadn't seen Will so animated since he'd walked out on him in Sydney. Imperceptibly, he relaxed. His eyes met Emma's, and he raised his eyebrows slightly. She looked back at him, and her eyes showed she would be smiling if she hadn't been afraid Will might have thought she was making fun of him.
“Thank you.” Tom was enjoying Will's enthusiasm. “Those days are over, but I still play a bit, just for fun. You should come play with us. We play in the park, with some other guys.”
“Cool! That would be so good!” Will's face was animated and excited.
“Now,” said Tom, “Let me introduce you to the rest of us.” He took Will by the elbow, and turned him to face the others. Sean let his hand drop from Will's shoulder, trusting Tom to keep him safe.
“Will, this is my guy, Adam.” Tom's tone, his smile, the way he held himself showed how pleased and proud he was to have Adam, and how much he loved him.
Will had never seen such easy acceptance and open acknowledgment of love between men before. That had been part of his problem, that he had no models to base his behaviour on. He'd known he wasn't unique, but the only gay men he knew were tricks. Of course, he had heard about the scandal when it first happened—it would have been virtually impossible not to. But seeing the two of them now made it real, and also made everything the commentariat had written about them seem off, or just plain wrong. He had always felt deep in his heart that what he did was immoral and wrong, and had despised himself when he couldn't control his desires. Suddenly he wanted to make a gesture too, to show how his life had changed, that he now accepted himself and what he was. And he wanted to show his own pride and love.
“Tom, this is my guy, Sean. And my lady, Emma.” And right there he felt that he had crossed a bridge into a new better country, that there might be rivers to ford and mountains to traverse, but that it didn't matter because he was making the journey with companions. He was no longer alone. They knew what he was, from the depths of his being to the sublime heights of his love. They knew. And they loved him nevertheless. Will looked at Emma and then Sean. His face was solemn. But his eyes shone, filled with happiness and love and pride.
“G'day, Sean. Emma.” Tom and Adam felt the importance of the moment, and gave it a proper acknowledgment. Neither Sean nor Emma was capable of speaking.
“These are Markie, Jas and Fiona, the three musketeers,” said Adam, waving at them.
“And these two,” said Fiona, her expression serene, but her tone defying them to make a comment, “are my guys.”
Mark and Jasper looked at her. They grinned, then Jasper leaned over and kissed Mark on his cheek. “And each other's too,” he said.
Jasper turned and hugged him. “Yeah. Always.”
Sean's eyes filled with tears. This deeply embarrassed him, but he was quite unable to control his feelings. He hadn't hoped for anything so warm and welcoming for Will. He didn't think about it then, but later he marvelled at the winding way Jasper had led him to both find Will and this place where, whatever happened outside, there was the acceptance and openness and the will to try. There was a silence while they all inspected each other, broken by Adam pouring out wine into the glasses set ready on the table. In the slight hiatus brought on by emotion and candidness, Sean stepped forward and gave Adam the bottles he had brought.
The talk ranged widely. As lunch progressed, Emma was reminded of the conversation in Persuasion between Mr Elliot and Anne, where Jane Austen gave what Emma had always thought was the author's own opinion of conversation:
"'My idea of good company...is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.' 'You are mistaken,' said he gently, 'that is not good company, that is the best.'"
They talked of politics and the weather; of films they had seen and were going to see; of footy and the latest brouhaha involving a celebrity player beating up his girlfriend or taking cocaine; of the food; of the ballet they had seen the night before; of their jobs and the people they knew.
Emma felt completely at ease. She and Sean and Will sat together on one of the worn old sofas, and it seemed entirely right when Sean slipped his arm round Will's waist, and then let his hand rest on her thigh. It was if he wasn't even aware his hand was touching her, but she didn't doubt that he knew exactly what he was about. He was making it clear with every chance that he was going to share Will with her. What bothered her was that she didn't know how she was going to reciprocate, not because she didn't want to, but because she just had no idea what to do.
After the meal was over, Fiona said, “Since the blokes cooked the food, I'll do the washing up.”
“You cooked?” Emma was impressed. The meal had been delicious, some kind of lentil and almond loaf, followed by a crème brulée.
“Tom and Adam cooked. Mark and I chopped vegetables.” Jasper grinned.
“Crap! You made the custard for the crème brulée. You know how hard that is, trying to prevent it curdling.”
“Enough of this macho posturing!” said Fiona briskly.
Emma laughed. Jasper pouted, his eyes gleaming.
Emma offered to help with the washing up, Fiona refused, and Emma insisted.
“How's it going?” asked Fiona as soon as they were alone.
Emma stopped rinsing a plate she was cleaning and thought. “It's still early days. I don't know.”
“It's hard, isn't it? All our instincts are against it.”
“What? You meaning sharing your man?” Emma absently wiped a plate with the brush and put it on the rack.
“It's all so new. We don't know what to do. There're no cultural models.”
“Easier maybe for me, being French?”
“The French are all bisexuals?”
Emma looked quickly at Fiona, but she was smiling.
“Well, you know the French thing about mistresses and... ”
Emma just laughed. Then, more quietly, she said, “I don't know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I'm going to share Will with Sean.” She smiled wryly. “As it appears I have been doing for some time.”
“Yeah. It's a bugger.”
“So to speak.” Emma was surprised at just how much bitterness she still felt.
“Men.” Fiona said it without emphasis. They turned simultaneously to each other and smiled at the same time.
“Actually, I like him.”
“Yeah. I didn't at first, I was so angry. I wanted to wring Will's neck.”
“Yes, that was my reaction, too. Blind rage. And then, hurt. I was so hurt.” Fiona had given up all pretence of drying the washing up, and was leaning against the counter top. “But they loved each other and I loved them. Well I loved Mark and Mark loved Jas, and I just thought, was this enough to stop my loving him? And it wasn't. But I was so hurt and sad and just plain furious at first.”
“Do you... ” Emma stopped, blushing furiously, and cleaned all the remaining plates in rapid succession.
“If you're asking, do I sleep with both of them, the answer is yes. I wouldn't normally talk about it, it's no one else's business, and when it started, I had no idea I would. But I'd known Jas for a while, and he was... he said he would give up Markie for me, and I started to feel differently about him. And then... it just seemed right.”
“I dunno if I could. Not because... he's sexy and nice... I would if... ” Emma was now motoring her way through the knives and forks, and Fiona suppressed a smile. Emma stopped suddenly. “The thing is, it's stupid, but I just can't do it. I can see that it's not immoral or wrong. I... it just is too hard. We—Sean and I—came close, but... ”
“Would you like to talk about what happened?”
So Emma told her. And in the telling she came to understand. “I do like Sean, and he is sexy and lovable, but I suppose what I'm saying is 'not yet'. And maybe, 'never'.”
“So how are you going to work it? Will Sean stay in your house? And Will? Will he spend the night there three times a week?”
“I dunno. I simply have no idea how we'll work it.”
“I think you must consider sharing a house. There's a downside, which is all the stuff about sharing a kitchen, a bathroom, you know, whose turn is it to do the washing up, why have you left a plate in the lounge room, all that stuff. But on the other hand they're always there, and it's nice to come home to them. I suppose if you think you can live together, all three of you, without wanting to slit each other's throats every day, then you should try it.”
“What if it doesn't work?”
“What if the whole thing doesn't work? What if you and Will just can't get over this?”
“Don't!” Emma shuddered.
“There are no promises, no final happy endings. You know that.” Fiona stopped for a moment. “All you can do is try for the now. For ever is made up of little bits, it's not like some vast emptiness.” There was a silence as they both idly pretended to be working.
“It's important that we're equals,” said Emma at last. “And in a way, that's hard, because Sean is so strong.”
“And you're not?”
“Maybe so. But Will... ?”
“He may be better than you think, now.”
“If he stops lying.” Emma wasn't bitter, not really.
“Yeah. Look, I can't really advise you. Everybody is so different, Everybody takes a different road. But... if you really love Will, then somehow you have to make it work. And it's important that you don't feel put upon, that your place is safe. It must be home to you.”
“Are they to you?”
Emma smiled. “Oh, yes.”
“Funny. They do feel like home to me, both of them. I feel safe with Sean. I did with Will. But I don't now, not so much, even though I love him. I'll have to be the strong one with him. It's so weird. I mean, I should hate Sean for being the other, well, man, but I don't. Yet I still can't trust Will.”
“Do you think he'll be unfaithful to the two of you, now?”
“To Sean, never. That's why he tried to kill himself. He was torn in half. To me... I dunno. But he's never really been interested in other women, that I could see.”
“Do you love him?”
Emma waited for a while. “God help me, yes. More than I can say.” She gave a lopsided smile, her eyes shining with tears.
Fiona reached out and stroked her hair. “Yeah. They can be such a fucking pain, and we just go right on loving them. But it's also important that you feel right. You mustn't sacrifice yourself. Yes, you'll all give something up, but you'll also gain something. If you feel you're losing out, you won't be able to keep it up. Did you feel you were losing out before, when you didn't know about Sean?”
“No.” Emma thought for a while. “But Sean was losing out. And that can't happen. It must work, Fiona. It must.”
“If you all feel that, it will.”
They finished drying up and putting away in silence, and just as they were leaving the kitchen, Fiona pulled Emma into a strong hug, and kissed both cheeks. “You do know, don't you, that you can always talk to me, and if I can help I will?”
“Thank you,” Emma whispered.
The six men were watching the game between St Kilda and the Sydney Swans on TV, with much raucous yelling and comment. Adam was really half asleep with his head on Tom's lap. He might watch footy now for more than the butts and thighs and buff bodies, but he was perfectly content just to be with Tom. Mark and Jasper were side by side on the sofa, shoulders pressed against each other. Will was resting his head on Sean's chest. Sean's fingers were tangled in Will's hair.
“Who said gay-shaded men didn't like sport?” whispered Fiona into Emma's ear.
Emma laughed. Will looked up and sat up abruptly. Sean looked at her, and gave her a smile of such sweetness and affection she felt like crying. “Hey,” he said. “Come and sit with us.”
There wasn't that much room on the sofa, in fact, but Emma felt she couldn't refuse. Sean kissed the side of her head, not in a sexual way, but like a brother or friend, gently and carefully. Will leaned across Sean and kissed her too, on her mouth. “Hello, love,” he said.
She saw that Sean's eyes were on them. There was affection and understanding in them. He didn't seem to feel left out or excluded. She knew then what she was going to do, how they were going to be together, all three of them. Suddenly, it seemed easy. She looked at Will.
“Home, James. We're supposed to get you back there by four.”
Will looked unconvinced.
“We'll have you out of there in a week, Will, love.” Emma was depressed by the rehab center, and she didn't have to stay there.
“Yeah. Even if we have to kidnap you. I promise.” Sean ruffled Will's hair. He looked at him to see whether he needed to say any more. Will was staring at him. “What?” asked Sean.
Will shook his head. But Sean had seen the fleeting happiness, followed by fear. “You'll be right, Will. You have us.” He took Will's chin in his hand. “You'll be OK with us, love.” He liked saying 'love'. It made him feel really good inside. “Let's go.”
As they were leaving it was settled that Will and Sean would come by next Sunday to play footy with the others. Tom explained about going up to Somersetville to coach a school footy team on Saturday, so that it had to be on Sunday.
“Don't forget our offer, Will!” were Adam's last words.
“What offer?” asked Emma when they were in the car on the way back to the rehab center.
Will was on the back seat this time, with Sean riding shotgun.
“Well, I dunno that I can go back to work, I mean where I was before. So I was talking about it with Adam. He's started his own fund manager. They won't be able to pay me anything to start with—they have no money themselves—but I'll be able to start off part time. It's not much, love, but it's a new start.”
“Not much! A job!”
“No money.” Will was brisk.
“We'll have to give up the house. I'm sorry. Fuck. I've been such a dill.”
“Well, we needed to talk about that anyway, 'cos there's nowhere for Sean to stay.”
“To stay? With you?” Sean was astounded, disbelieving.
She flicked her eyes at him in the seat on her left. “Where else?”
He colored deeply. She hadn't thought him capable of it. “I never thought... I... Will it work? Um, I mean, thank you.”
“So,” Emma continued briskly, “we need a different house.”
“You love that house.” From the back seat, Will spoke quietly.
“Not any more.” And I love you more.
“Isn't there another way?” Will was upset.
“You saw Tom and Fiona and them at lunch. What've they got? Worn sofas, no pictures, but Wilbo, they have love, they have fun, they have... so much. Fuck our house. It's you I care about, it's us, and making this work!”
“Yeah. And we'll be short of it. No biggie.”
“We'll have three incomes.” It was the first time Sean had spoken.
“No we won't. Two. I won't be earning. I'll be parasiting off you two.”
“Crap. Adam said he'd give you shares in the business instead of a salary. One day those shares will be worth a mint. Then we'll live off you.”
“I'm no good at it.”
“Oh, right. That's why heartless brokers, interested only in turnin' a profit keep on employin' ya. 'Cos you're fuckin' useless!”
“Everybody will know about me.”
Now Sean was angry. “What? That you love a bloke? That you tried to top yerself because said bloke acted like a prissy arsehole?”
“You're not a prissy arsehole. You're fucking not! You did what was right.”
“Fuck that. I left my best friend, the man I love, to face up to his mistakes alone? You know I came round to talk to you, to tell you I loved you, when I found you? And don't you ever fuckin' do that again or I'll fuckin' kill ya!”
They stared at each other angrily and then then Will's lips twitched and in a moment they began to laugh. Will had a very infectious laugh. It was one of the things that had drawn Emma to him. She started to laugh too, and had to pull over to the side of the road to prevent an accident. When they had stopped laughing, Sean said, “So that's settled then. We look for a house that fits us all, you work for Adam and Tom's company, and one day we'll all be rich. And in the meantime, we're happy.”
At the Bainbridge Institute, heedless of who was watching, Sean and Emma kissed Will long and hard, and when he complained about his erection, they pointed out that the sooner he was out the sooner they could satisfy his base urges.
On the way home in the car, Emma said, “Thank you.”
“You're welcome. For what?”
“For being his friend as well as his lover. For being you. I should hate you but I don't.”
“Yeah. Weird. I should be jealous of you, and I'm not. A bit jealous of Will, maybe.”
Emma could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She didn't speak.
“I meant it, ya knaow. A friend. I'll be your friend. I love Will, so much, so fuckin' deeply, but I'll be your friend. But you are a very attractive woman, ya knaow.”
“Me?” Emma squeaked.
“Yeah. I dunno what I am, Em. I dunno that I'm gay, but I must be a lot gay because I love Will so much. I don' want to dress up like a woman, I don' like musicals, I have no fashion sense... ”
“Really?” interjected Emma ironically.
Sean ignored her. “ ...but I love a man, and I like sex with him, so that must make me gay, right?”
“How the eff do I know?” Emma was touched and amused at Sean's revelations.
“I dunno. Fuck me.” Gladly, thought Emma, rebelliously.
“But I also think you're ace. Pretty fuckin' hot, if ya mus' knaow.” His accent had gotten stronger as he became more emotional, his Ozzie triphthongs becoming even longer and rounder. “But we can't do anythin', not naow, not when he's still gettin’ better. Maybe, I dunno, maybe never. But I jus' wanted to say that, as far as I'm concerned, it would be cool.” He stopped, then placed his hand on her arm. “I mean it.”
Emma was struggling to speak. “I... yeah. Seanie, I... I feel the same. You're... amazing, so strong... I like you... I like you so much. And, hey, if we're sharing stuff here, I think you're pretty hot, too. But Seanie, I don't love you. Not like I love Wilbo.”
“Goes fer me too. But Em, we c'n be friends, fer now, and maybe one day, a bit more. Even if we both love Will more than we like each other.”
“OK. Good.” They didn’t speak again for several minutes. Then she continued, “I s'pose we ought to start looking for a new house.”
“Thank you for lettin' me live with ya baoth. I never expected it.”
“Why not? Why shouldn't Wilbo get to see you every day?
“It's more than I had. Before.”
“I know. But it's fair. Sean, this has to work. For Will's sake.”
“Yeah. OK, let's look for houses. I can't pay that much. I prolly don't earn as much as you two did. I'm just a chauffeur.”
“Well, Will won't have any money. For months and months.”
“All roight then, we'll start lookin' soon. D'youse aown yer house?”
“Yeah. What the bank doesn't own. Which is most of it.”
They had reached the house. They got out of the car in silence, and Sean went over to his motorbike. “I'll go see him tomorra. During the day. When're ya goin'?”
“In the evening. Give him my love.”
Sean leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth. “Of course.”
“Would you like to come in, have some tea?”
“Nao. Not a good idea, the way I'm feelin'.” His eyes gleamed in the spring late afternoon sunlight, dark with desire. He put his arms round her and hugged her. “I'll seeya soon.” He kissed her again, and she felt him, all male, his hard body against her softness, his heart beating against her breasts, his cock firm down one leg of his jeans.
“A bientot, cheri!”
He grinned. “Yer gonna hafta taich me French, ya knaow.” In a minute he was gone, the bike whining down the road and round the corner.
She went inside and felt with her finger her lip where Sean's lips had been. She threw herself into the comfy armchair with a sigh. She closed her eyes, and sighed again. And then she fell asleep.
2012 Nikolaos Thiwerspoon. All rights reserved.