A Class Apart (66 page)

With desperation they tore at one another’s clothes. Naked, she stepped into his arms. He lowered his head to kiss her, moulding her body against his so she could feel the hardness of his thighs against hers, the strength of his arms as they circled her waist, and the thrill of his hands pressing against her buttocks. Then pushing her back onto the bed, for a moment he stood looking down at her. His eyes were like a caress on her skin, and she moaned softly as she felt her body responding. He stepped towards her and her eyes dropped to his penis, pushing up against his belly, achingly swollen, ready to take her. Her eyes flew back to his and she began to tremble as, taking her legs in his hands, he lifted them apart and dropped to his knees in front of her. His tongue was hard and manipulative, making her cry out as she snaked her fingers through his hair. Cupping her breasts roughly in his hands he took her nipples, squeezing and pulling them until they rose like hard beads from her body. And then his mouth was there, kissing them and soothing them with his tongue. She reached down and took his penis in her hand. He gasped then groaned as he felt his control slipping away. And then he was beside her and his fingers were pushing into her, and she thrust her hips towards him. He opened his mouth wide and took hers in a bruising embrace. Catching her savagely about the waist, with one swift move he was inside her. She cried out with a voice she barely recognised as her own as she felt the full depth of his penetration. His passion was violent, and his tongue demanding as he pushed it deep into her mouth. She clutched at his hair, and dug her nails into his back as he ground into her, faster and faster. And beneath him she drove her body to his, meeting him with unleashed urgency. Briefly he raised his head and looked down into her eyes, and then as the seed began to rush from his body he called out her name, and as if from a long way away she heard her own voice, crying out for him, as their bodies burst into waves of the most intense and exquisite pleasure they had ever known.

It was several minutes before either of them had gained enough breath to speak. When she looked into his face she saw that his eyes were tender and he was concerned that he had been too violent, but she only smiled and pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. He laughed then, saying perhaps it was her who had been too violent with him. She sank her teeth into his fingers, making him laugh again, and he rolled over onto his back, pulling her into his arms. Idly he ran his fingers over her skin, pausing at her breasts and teasing her nipples back into the achingly erect buds they had been before. She groaned and turned in his arms, taking the laughter from his face as he saw the dark look in her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, as he felt himself begin to respond. And this time they were tender and patient, holding one another close, allowing their bodies to speak in a way that words never could.

Later, lying contentedly in his arms and idly running her fingers over his thighs, Ashley sighed and turned to kiss his shoulder. She felt a warm glow ripple softly around her heart as his arms tightened about her, and feeling him looking down at her, she turned to gaze into his face, his lopsided grin appearing more precious to her than she could ever have imagined. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Sure you do,” he said.

She opened her mouth to deliver a hasty retort, but he caught her face in his hands and kissed her. “And I love you,” he said, as he let her go. And then his eyes were teasing again. “Hell, I ought to, you’re the best roll in the hay a man’s ever had.”

She choked.

“Yes?” he said, and she fell against him laughing.

“You know there’s one thing for sure here,” he said, after a few minutes.

“And what would that be?”

“This afternoon beats the pants off the first time we made love. And I didn’t think that was possible.”

She lifted her head from his chest and looked into his face. “What do you mean, the first time?” she asked, finally.

He cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb along her cheek. “Remember the swimming pool?”

Ashley pushed herself away from him, but before she could speak he had caught her in his arms and planted his mouth very firmly on hers. At that moment the phone started to ring. Swearing under his breath, Conrad reached out and picked it up.

“I’m sorry,” Candice’s voice came over, “but this is important.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“‘Fraid not,” she said.

Conrad sighed and pulled himself up from the bed. “OK, go ahead.”

“Ashley’s maid is here.”

“What does she want?” Conrad turned to look at Ashley, who smiled at him and began to trace tiny patterns across his back.

“She’s brought a note with her, that she found in Ashley’s apartment.”

“What do you mean, a note? What sort of note?”

“Well, it’s from her husband, uh, ex-husband. It says that he has gone back to England, and taken her little boy with him.”

“What!” Conrad almost shouted.

Ashley’s hand stopped on his back. A sixth sense seemed to tell her that this might be something to do with her.

“Does it say anything else?”

“I’m afraid so,” Candice answered. “It says that if she tries to get him back, then, hell look, I’ll read it to you. He says, ‘I told you, Ashley, that you would never have Alex in New York. Now perhaps you will believe me. I have taken him back to England, and if you do anything, and I mean anything, to get him back again, then I will not hesitate, I will kill him, and kill myself too. This time it is not a threat. I told you you would never win. Now perhaps you will believe me.’ He signed himself, your husband, Keith.”

Ashley was watching Conrad’s face, and he was only too aware of her eyes on him. He turned away. “Get on to the airport,” he said to Candice, “book two tickets on the next Concorde out. Or the next flight, whichever gets there first. Send someone round to her apartment,” he glanced at Ashley, “and collect the necessary and have it sent straight over to Kennedy.”

“Right on it,” said Candice, but Conrad had already put the phone down.

“What is it?” said Ashley, her face ashen. The uneasy feeling she had started the day with suddenly hammered against her head.

He put his arms round her, but her body was tense. “Just put your clothes on.”

“No,” she said, “no. What’s happened, Conrad? Tell me. Alex, it’s something to do with Alex, isn’t it? Tell me, please!”

“Sssh,” he tried to soothe her. “Come along now. I’ll tell you on the way to the airport.”

“But where are we going?”

“To London.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

“Phone for you, Jenn!”

Jenneen turned back, looking at her watch. “I’m already late for editing,” she said, as she took the phone from the secretary. “Who is it?”

“Didn’t say,” the secretary answered, and walked off to her own desk.

“Hello, Jenneen Grey.”

“It’s Matthew.”

Jenneen froze. It was the first time she’d heard from him since the day he had beaten her up.

“I want to see you tonight, Jenn. Seven thirty, your place.”

Jenneen was surprised, it wasn’t like Matthew to make an appointment. “Well,” she said, “I’m glad you do, because it so happens that I want to see you too.”

“Good,” said Matthew. “I won’t be staying long so you don’t have to cancel any engagements.”

“How considerate of you,” Jenneen remarked, and hung up.

She wandered on up to VTR on the fifth floor, her mind only half on what she was doing or where she was going.

But it wasn’t Matthew she was thinking about. She was still in the hold of the strange and alien feeling that had been with her ever since the weekend. At first she had been unable to identify it. It wasn’t a bad feeling, in fact it was quite the reverse. She liked the way it seeped into her bones when she woke in the mornings, the way it followed her through the day and sometimes into her dreams. And as the days went by and she and Vicky spent more and more time together, she finally began to understand that the feeling was one of completeness. Completeness, and honesty. Finally she was facing up to the things she felt inside. There was nothing to run away from any more, because she had found what she always needed, had she but known it.

It was still a little difficult to grasp sometimes, that she and Vicky had become lovers. It seemed incredible. And even now as she remembered the softness of Vicky’s skin, the beauty of her eyes, and the way she kissed her, a part of her still burned with shame. But the shame was becoming less and less as each day passed, and Jenneen was growing to accept that other part of her that almost rejoiced in the feelings. It was right. So right. For some reason it didn’t seem sordid, not like she might have expected it to. And not like all the other times, the times when she had been with a man. It was clean and gentle and good.

She had talked to no one about what had happened, not even Dr Bryant, the psychiatrist she had seen the day before; that would have to come later. One step at a time, Vicky had told her, there was no hurry. Jenneen could see her face now, looking at her, her eyes shining, her voice gentle.

“You’re not the first person in the world this has happened to,” Vicky had smiled, “and you won’t be the last. For some it is easier. All the prejudices that have been implanted in you by your family over the years won’t go away quickly. You must give it time. But you will see, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Jenneen smiled. Dear Vicky. Of the two of them she had always been the strong one, the one who would never let life get her down. But this morning she had seemed vulnerable, and almost afraid. Jenneen wondered if Vicky was already in love with her, and surprisingly the thought didn’t frighten her. She had to admit to a certain sense of foreboding, and there was no doubt the whole thing would be complicated, but Jenneen knew that in her heart she wanted Vicky to be in love with her.

She wanted to call her now, or go round to the shop and see her. She wanted to hold her in her arms again. It was a strange sensation, holding another woman, in a way she had only ever held a man before. There was something so exhilarating about it, as if she could become drunk on the mere aroma of another woman’s skin.

Jenneen laughed out loud. To think that she was fantasising about something she had never even dared to think about before. And now it was already beyond fantasy. The touch of Vicky’s lips, moving so gently against hers, sent waves of emotion through her that she had never experienced before. The feel of her breasts against her own, and her small hands running lightly across her neck and down over her shoulders. Less than a week ago it would have been something that Jenneen thought she might have found repulsive, and unthinkable. Yet now all she wanted was to feel her close again.

She walked into the VTR booth where an insert was being edited for the following day’s programme. Greg, the editor, looked up as she came in. “I carried on without you,” he said. “Do you want to see what I’ve done so far?”

“If you like,” said Jenneen. “But I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”

Greg’s fingers hovered over the buttons. “Shall I spin back, or not?”

“Go on then, let’s have a look.”

Moving his fingers like a clumsy pianist he pressed the appropriate buttons and sent the machine outside spinning back to the beginning of the tape. Jenneen wandered over to the door and looked out into the main area that housed the large video tape machines.

“How many machines have we got?”

“Two.”

“Silly question,” she said. “When do we ever get more than two? But I thought we were getting three today?”

“We were,” he answered, “but the news have taken one for an hour to transmit some interview on the six o’clock.”

She looked over at the machines again as she heard the tape wind off the end.

“Damn!” Greg muttered. He got up from his chair. “Hang on, I’ll just go and lace up again.”

Jenneen followed him over and watched him as he threaded the tape back into the machine. Suddenly she thought she heard a voice she recognized. She looked around, trying to see where the voice was coming from. “Hey,” she cried, looking at the little monitor on the machine adjacent to theirs, “isn’t that Bob McElfrey?”

Greg looked up. “Know him, do you?” He sounded impressed.

“Yes. What’s he doing here? Which programme is that?”

“The news.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Jenneen, and she disappeared into the booth next to theirs. “Mind if I watch?” she asked the engineer who was transmitting the interview.

He cleared his briefcase from the chair beside him. “Be my guest.”

The interview was already half through. She had been battling with her guilt for days now that she had not been in touch with Ellamarie, but she had been so busy since she had returned from Vicky’s. Still, if she watched the interview, she’d ring Ellamarie after and tell her how wonderful she thought Bob was.