Just Like a Woman (16 page)

The voice started… She sat down and let the daydream take over. This was one she liked and got better each time she allowed it through.

She walks down the clean freshly painted hallway to the front door, and opening it, there stands Robert. He carries a big box in his arms, wrapped up in silver paper with ribbon wound round it and a beautiful bow on the top.
A
label is attached and she sees a hand-written message. Smiling up at him she stands aside as he walks in. As he brushes past her he leans down to press a soft gentle kiss on her lips. She follows him into the lounge, so excited she can hardly contain herself. She licks her lips enjoying the taste of him.

‘It’s beautiful’ he says as he looks at the tree. It is decorated with silver and gold balls, red bows and a delicate ballerina style fairy overlooks the whole room from the top. The smell of fresh pine fills the room while the sound of carols softly plays in the background on the radio

‘I did it all myself,’ she replies and reaching underneath she pulls out a small box for him. He hands her his box and she tears the paper off carelessly while he looks on, holding his present waiting for her to finish, a smile on his face as he obviously enjoys her excitement.

Sarah rubbed her eyes. The dream never got any further because she couldn’t imagine what he may have bought her. She couldn’t imagine what she wanted.

*****

Robert let the charcoal control his hand, let it go where it wanted to, covering the paper with black smudges and lines. Then he blew on the paper, blowing the black dust away. Returning the charcoal to the paper he continued, not concerned with the results. He had to let the paper and charcoal decide. Eventually he stopped, lifted his hand away and looked at the mess.

He had woken that morning knowing it was time. He wanted to try again. He needed to try again. He told Terry to make him some sandwiches and fuck off for the day, make sure she didn’t come back till late in the evening. He switched on the answering machine. It was the only way to do it. No distractions, nothing would get in his way.

In the conservatory he had a coffee machine, a pint of milk and forty cigarettes lined up on the table. The sandwiches were in the kitchen, but they were for later, much later. He wouldn’t eat today, not until he had something on the canvas. He put five cds in the interchanger and pressed the random button. All of them Bob’s records.

Standing back from the charcoal covered paper he felt he may be ready to begin. He tore the paper from the easel and threw it on the pile with the others he had already done. He was loosened up. He was ready. He needed a cigarette first. And maybe he would do one more. Cigarette in mouth he let the charcoal glide again, shapes forming; eyes, nose and a mouth. Curls appeared on the head and shadows on the face. Could he now replicate this in oil? Stubbing out the cigarette he went over to the paints and pulled them towards the easel. He placed a freshly covered canvas on the easel.

He let the charcoal faintly touch the canvas, drawing a basic outline from memory. He knew the face intimately, had drawn it so many times. Drawing it was no problem. Painting it, getting it right. Getting it just right. He started to think about the last one, but changed his mind. Concentrate on this one, no fucking distractions, he told himself. Just me and Bob today. Nobody else. Fuck the lot of them. I’ll show them, he thought.

He lit another cigarette, and dangled it in his mouth. He picked up a paintbrush and mixed the colours. Carefully he applied it to the canvas, holding his head to one side to avoid the smoke getting in his eyes.

He wasn’t aware of the ash dripping onto the floor and his socked feet. He wasn’t aware of the rain clanging on the conservatory roof. He wasn’t even aware of his voice singing along to the continuously repeated lyrics. He wasn’t aware of anything. Robert lost himself in time as he dabbed oil on the canvas. An image began to appear. An image he was so familiar with. It took shape in front of his eyes and it was right… It felt right. He really was ready today. Today the image was going to be perfect.

*****

‘Please, please come on in.’

Wheedling. Stephanie thought that was the only way to describe the way he asked. He not only looked like a little boy, he acted like one as well. She would not have been surprised if he had tugged at her jumper.

‘I have to get home,’ she replied.

‘A quick cup of coffee, just one.’

‘Another time.’

Please,’ he wheedled again.

‘Ok,’ she relented as she pulled the keys from the ignition. It was a very impressive house, and she was curious. ‘You live here alone?’

‘Yes, I do now.’ He stumbled from the car onto the gravel.

‘Now?’ She asked following him to the front door. She watched as he dug out the keys and tried to insert them in the key hole. ‘Here let me.’ She took the keys and opened the solid oak door. It swung into a hallway full of sailing coats, shoes, wellingtons, and waterproofs with a curious smell of salt mixed with mud. He pushed past her, almost knocking her over. When she had pulled herself up she followed him again, this time into a large open kitchen.

‘Sit.’ He pointed through an arch to the dining area where a massive wooden table took up most of the room. She walked round it, touching it, impressed.

‘What an amazing table, I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. I had it commissioned.’ He didn’t look up at her as he spoke but concentrated, with the help of his tongue sticking sideways out of his mouth, on getting water into the kettle and spooning coffee into cups.

‘D’you want me to do that?’

‘Nope, I can manage. I’ll be fine in a minute. A cup of coffee and I’ll be fine. You’ll see.’

Stephanie doubted it and continued to trace the intricate carvings on the surface of the table. A huge flower was engraved on the surface.

‘Surely it’s a little difficult to lay this table, none of the plates would lay flat?’

‘Nope. Not true. The way its engraved means everything’s at the same level. See.’ He walked over with a plate and it sat evenly on the table. The carving caused some sort of optical illusion.

‘It’s really beautiful,’

‘Yes, and surprising it’s still here. When she left, the wife that is, she spent three days emptying the house, but luckily her new place wasn’t big enough for the table, so she had t’ leave it. Can you believe what she did though?’

Stephanie shook her head, ‘No? No idea.’

He opened the kitchen cabinets, ‘Look’

She looked, but could see nothing unusual.

‘Look carefully, and you’ll see what she did.’ He pulled open drawers that rattled, and she still couldn’t see what it was he wanted her to see. ‘She took exactly half of everything. Half. Why didn’t she just take the lot? I have a pepper pot, so I’m assuming she has the salt, I’ve Oregano, but not Tarragon. Forks but no knives. Are you getting the picture?’

Stephanie thought it was amusing, then seeing his face, couldn’t stop the laugh. He nodded, his hair bobbing up and down over his face, then joined in with the laughter. He placed a cup of black coffee in front of her.

‘Sorry no milk. The cleaner doesn’t come till tomorrow.’ Stephanie lifted the coffee cup and looked at him, his boyish face staring back, searching hers. He was intense. They were all so intense. But he was drunk.

When Cammy phoned suggesting they went out again, Stephanie agreed readily. It had worked last time. She had so much fun, and not once did she think of Trevor. James made her laugh. He was so enthusiastic and so full of life. She liked the straight mousy hair surrounding his round open face and his easy smile. He looked young but she guessed he was near her own age. He came straight up to her, introducing himself, and they laughed most of the night. But Cammy had pulled her into a waiting taxi, stating they still had much talking to do.

When she arrived in the pub the next week he had been there again, but this time he was drunk, and deceived himself by thinking he had manipulated a lift home from her.

He sat opposite her as they sipped their coffee in silence. He reached over and took her hand, stroking it whilst looking at her.

‘What’s the rest of the house like?’ she asked. Taking hold of her hand he replied

‘Let me show you. There’s an amazing view of the sea from my bedroom.’

‘It’s dark,’ she laughed. He pulled her up and dragged her from the room.

‘There’s a sort of lounge area, goes all the way round the back of the house through there, with half a suite,’ he waved his other arm to the side as he led her to a staircase. ‘Over there’s another room, down there’s a toilet, up here,’ he mounted the stairs ‘are bedrooms and four, no five more bathrooms.’ Leading her to a window he continued. ‘Here, look, you may be able to see something,’

There was only one curtain on one side of the window. Stephanie concluded his wife must have been extremely bitter when she left to do such a thing, but she couldn’t help admiring the absolute consistency of the act. The street lamp outside the house cast a glow, allowing her to see a long room with a kingsize bed, a couple of paintings and one bedside table with a lamp on it. ‘There,’ he let go of her hand and pointed, ‘the sea.’ As she looked, she felt his hand slide round her waist, fingers feeling her hips before enclosing and pulling her round to him. Being the same height their lips came together smoothly. His mouth opened. God, he kissed her like a boy as well. No tongue. For godsake! This man really was a boy. He needed a few lessons. She tried to tempt him by inserting her tongue into his mouth, but there was no reply, only a vacuous hole. His hand tangled itself in her hair whilst the other held her buttocks pulling her body into him. After a few moments he pulled away and looked intently into her eyes. Stephanie thought she was going to laugh at his attempt to be romantic. Instead she gripped her lips tight and let him direct her to the bed.

‘I need the bathroom first,’ she said.

‘First door on your left.’

She walked away.

Driving away from his house a couple of hours later, she could smell him on her. She would have a shower as soon as she got home. Whoever his cleaner was ought to be fired, the towels in his bathroom had smelt the same as the bed. When she came out of his bathroom he was already ensconced, his little boys face peering over the duvet cover. Sitting on the edge she started removing her clothing, knowing he was watching her every move. To tease she didn’t remove her bra and pants.

Lifting the duvet she was shocked to smell he had recently had sex in this bed; either alone or with someone else. She pushed the thought away to concentrate on the sex she hoped was about to take place. She let him kiss her. His hands moved up and down her body, but she felt nothing. She talked her way through it, trying to feel at least a small stirring, but there was nothing at all. He just didn’t excite her, he had no idea what he was doing. Sometimes she didn’t know why she kept picking up these young boys. His poor wife, no wonder she left. She wondered how long they stayed together before the wife finally gave up. When his hand felt between her legs she invented a groan for him, and encouraged he delved deeper, thrusting his fingers into her, his mouth still open on top of hers. She lay on her back, with her head turned towards him; he lay sideways pushing himself rhythmically into her thigh as his fingers did their work. Without warning he pulled his head from hers and plunged under the duvet. The absent tongue from her mouth was suddenly put into action, licking her pubic hair and thighs. Opening her eyes she looked around the room; her arms lying by her sides fiddling with the duvet. She yawned.

His hands reached above his head massaging her nipples to a point where she wanted to scream at him to give it a rest. He really was beginning to annoy her. She could do better by herself. But he seemed to be enjoying himself so much she said nothing hoping eventually, if he continued, perhaps she would feel something. Anyway his saliva would hopefully create enough wetness for him to enter her.

Coming to a junction her attention reverted to driving, she looked left and right and pulled across without stopping, she didn’t expect any traffic at this time of the morning. At least she wouldn’t wake up with a hangover. She pushed the cd into the slot and turned the volume down, aware of the built-up area she was driving through. Looking in the mirror she noticed car lights and wondered how long they had been behind her. He had eventually become more enjoyable than she anticipated.

When she could no longer stand her nipples being twiddled between his fingers anymore, she removed them. He took this as a signal to use both his tongue and fingers on her vagina. His tongue gently thrusting into her, while he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb. Then he changed. His tongue on her clitoris, fingers deep into her. It worked. The wetness no longer just his saliva. She gently rubbed his head. He ploughed on. She twitched her leg. His hand reached out. He clasped her foot bending her knee up as far and out to the side as it would go, his elbow pushing it back, opening her wider; his mouth never leaving her. Not just licking, but sucking now, nibbling. She groaned again. No invention this time. Her mouth opened, breathing deeply. He worked until her back arched. Surprisingly she climaxed. Only then did he insert his erect penis. Disappointing in size, made up for in energy; he bounced away on top of her, his climax nowhere in sight.

The traffic lights turned red as she approached and the car lights came up close behind. Looking in the mirror she saw it was a white van. When the lights turned green she pulled away thankful she could afford a decent car. The car behind didn’t accelerate to keep up and her shoulders dropped. She lifted her hand to her nose sniffing James’s smell enjoying the sensation of her damp pants pushed against her by her tight jeans. Leaving the town behind, her hand stretched to the volume control, she loved this song.

‘…she only comes when she’s on top…’ she sang along. His bouncing had gone on for some time before she eventually took control. Gently pushing him off she positioned herself on top, then slowly manoeuvred him back into her. She tucked her feet under his legs entwining them tight together preventing him from moving any faster than she wished to, then rocked back and forth on her knees keeping the rhythm slow and deep. She watched his face. He eventually closed his eyes and his breathing grew harder. He tried to increase her speed. Bucking up and arching his back but she remained steady. Rocking back and up at her own pace, leaning back to push him deep into her for her own pleasure. Only rising slightly so as not to lose him. His hands grabbed at her knees. Breathing through his mouth now, she watched as his face changed. He screamed. She smiled down at him. He actually screamed when he came, and she began to laugh aloud. He joined her and they laughed together. He really was a little boy. The sex she smelt in his bed was his own, she decided as she climbed off him still laughing. His body still jerked beside her.