Acknowledgement

Gasping For Air is a fictional story that references many real artworks, books, films and
musical releases. I have sincere gratitude and respect for all these inspirational works’
creators, and I urge readers to seek them out if they’re not already familiar with them. One
work that deserves special mention is Laura Miller’s The Magician’s Book, an insightful and
thorough critique of The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis. Though the central characters
in this novel would have loved it, it was unfortunately published after the events described
here.
In writing Gasping For Air, I have also been inspired by Paganism, including the practices
and teachings of modern Druidry. Whilst I do not directly represent any one tradition in
this story, I thank the Order of Bards Ovates and Druids specifically. More widely, I also
value our modern liberal society, which upholds our freedom to explore and express our
spirituality and our sexuality in our own our chosen way, “If it harm none…”
The cover photograph for the free-ebooks.net release is Sergey Gorshkov’s ‘Arctic
Treasure’ - a Wildlife Photographer of the Year highly commended entry.
3 AUDIOBOOK COLLECTIONS

6 BOOK COLLECTIONS
Chapter 1
Ben found that the gym quiet on weekday afternoons, especially so on a Monday. There was
just one other person in the upstairs room of cardio machines, a short woman with dark
hair who he’d seen before. She jogged steadily, the whir of her machine louder than the
gym’s background music. He chose a machine of his own, leaving an unoccupied space
between them, then started building up to his own pace. He stared into space as he
pounded along beside the woman, and perhaps she too was looking into the clear spring
sky ahead of them. The blue rectangle and a few treetops were all that was visible through
the narrow window, too high to let them see the old graveyard at the back of the gym.
Ben had not exercised for nearly a week, as he’d had a load of timber to process in his
workshop. He noticed that his routine seemed a little harder than usual, but less than ten
minutes in, he really ran into difficulties. His heavy breathing was becoming difficult,
almost painful as he struggled to get enough air. This seemed to affect his technique as he
misjudged the placement of his feet and stumbled. He quickly stopped the machine,
stepping off it to lean against the wall by the window, but his breath wasn’t coming any
easier. He was aware of his heart still hammering in his chest as he slid down the wall onto
his haunches. Then he felt the room tipping and realised with distant surprise that he’d
actually slid all the way down onto the floor.
He heard his companion’s running machine stop and saw her trainers briskly stepping
towards him. From his ground-level point of view, it seemed as if a giant were approaching.
She must have crouched down, as he could see she was balancing on the balls of her feet.
She had asked if he was feeling okay he realised, and he tried to answer, to say that he
wasn’t sure. Though he was still labouring for breath, he felt calmer now. Then he heard
her mutter a curse and call out, “Some help here, please!” She cursed again when no one
came, then she was grasping his limbs, trying to manoeuvre his limp body to stretch him
out on his side. He was a bit alarmed when he unexpectedly felt her fingers in his mouth too,
but whatever she was trying to do, it only took a moment.
Ben felt himself drifting into sleep now, but came to his senses when he realised the woman
was trying to get his attention, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Hey! Stay with me.
What’s your name?”
He answered with a wheeze, “Ben, Ben Osborne.”
“That’s good, Ben,” she said, then she seemed to speak to someone else, “It’s Ben Osborne.
I’m not sure I’ll get much more from him right now. Thanks, that’s good to know. I’ve put
him in the recovery position and checked his airways. That’s about the limit of my first aid.
Yes, his lips are blue. I can stay with him until they arrive. Okay, I won’t hang up then.”
Then she seemed to be addressing him again in a slow clear voice, in quite a posh accent,
Ben thought vaguely. “Okay, Ben. I’m Marcie. You sit tight. I’ve called an ambulance and
they’re on their way. I’m going to stay with you. They want me to keep an eye on that
breathing. You’re doing very well.” He realised that she was gripping his hand, and he felt
comforted by that, but he did still feel very sleepy.
Suddenly there were other people bustling around in the room. Then there was the
pressure of cool plastic on his face and a hiss of gas. Someone was reaching behind his head,
strapping the plastic mask over his nose and mouth, but he was becoming more aware of a
delicious lightheaded feeling, creeping up the back of his neck from his chest to his scalp.
His breath was coming more easily again, and he felt a buoyant relief from the pain in his
chest, which only a moment ago he’d somehow barely noticed. He deliberately drew a slow
deep breath, gratefully savouring the sweetly easing comfort that it brought. A tingle of
satisfaction shivered right through his body, sensuously arousing in its intensity. He was
aware that someone was putting their hand in the pockets of his gym shorts. He considered
protesting - they might be trying to take his locker key - but it didn’t seem to really matter.
A stout balding man in green was suddenly looming over his face. “Alright Ben, me and my
mate are going to lift you onto the stretcher now. Then we’ll give you a ride into the RVI,
okay?” He felt himself being raised up by strong hands under his armpits and thighs, then
he was being tucked tightly into a pleasantly cosy blanket. He realised he’d lost her hand
and felt confused. He’d been holding hands with the small woman who had been running
with him. He remembered she had glasses and dark wavy hair tied back in a tight bun, and
she was called Marcie.
He tried to say her name under the muffling mask, raising his hand hopefully even as the
paramedic fussed around with thick fingers on Ben’s eyelids and neck. He felt her small
hand touch his, and he gripped it gratefully.
“It’s alright, pet, you can ride with us,” he heard the man say above his head.
“But I…” she started, before being cut off.
“It’s no bother. You bring his bag. We’ll move him down to the van now. He’s looking a bit
less peaky already, but we don’t want to hang about with something like this.”
Ben felt himself being lifted again, then had the confused impression of gliding under the
gym’s lights, down the stairs, out into the cold air, then into a crowded little room that he
realised was the back of an ambulance. It started swaying and he heard a siren. He hoped
there hadn’t been an accident that would hold them up, then realised that it was their
vehicle that was making the noise. He felt foolish at his mistake, and at the trouble he’d put
people to.
He was still gripping someone’s hand. He rolled his head to see the small woman from the
gym sitting anxiously beside him, squashed onto a tiny chair beside the older paramedic.
“Hey,” she said, “You’re going to be all right, okay?” He tried to smile beneath the hissing
gas. It was all he could manage, but he certainly felt all right.
Then they were briefly out in the cold air again, before Ben found himself floating under
more ceiling lights. There was noise and activity all around. He was aware of people talking
to each other over his prone body. But soon all this subsided as he came to rest in a calm
space surrounded by pale blue curtains.
As the drama receded, he felt himself relax, lying back on the bed that they’d left him in,
resting his head on the clean pillow. He still wore the mask, but he felt his breath was
coming much more easily now, and he also felt he was becoming more alert, more aware of
his surroundings. He suddenly realised that he was not alone, that the woman from the
gym was still with him, and more than that, still holding his hand.
He looked at her. She seemed small and perhaps a little scared, still dressed in her tight
gym kit, hunched forwards in the chair that she’d drawn close to his bedside, staring at his
big rough hand as it enveloped hers. Somehow he’d literally pulled her into this crisis with
him, even though she was a complete stranger. Yet somehow he also felt they had made a
connection, that fate had thrown them together, and now they could never be strangers
again.
He relaxed his grip, feeling their sticky hands come apart. “I’m sorry, Marcie, isn’t it?” His
voice was muffled by the mask, but she could obviously hear him well enough, as she
startled and looked straight at him with her brown eyes, blinking her long dark lashes
under her heavy eyebrows. She asked if he was feeling better.
“Aye, thank you. Still a bit lightheaded, but I feel more with it now,” then he repeated, “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I don’t even know what happened.”
“Hey, relax, okay? You fainted or something, and I was there to help,” she said, leaning back
in her chair now, perhaps taking her own advice. “The gym found your details, eventually,
but they didn’t have your next of kin noted. I’ve called in myself now. My boss was fine
with me taking the rest of the afternoon off. I can stick around a bit longer if you like.”
“Thank you. I would like that. It really is kind of you.”
At that moment the curtain around Ben’s bed was pulled aside with a dramatic noise. A
tired-looking woman in a smart skirt and blouse stepped in, followed by a man in hospital
uniform. “Ah, Ben Osborne isn’t it? You’re looking brighter. I’m Doctor Sally Norman, and
I’ve been handling your case. I’ll just adjust your oxygen, if I may. You probably don’t need
it so rich now you’re back with us. Are you okay to talk?”
Ben agreed, and she went on briskly, “Your friend has been very helpful in describing what
happened at the gym, but she didn’t seem to know the details of your personal health
history. Didn’t you have your blue inhaler with you at the gym?”
Ben confessed he didn’t know what she meant, so she explained with seemingly strained
patience, “It seems you had a severe asthma attack. You’re not getting any treatment for
asthma? But it has been diagnosed? No? Really? Well, you’ll need tests, but that’s certainly
what it looks like. We’ll get a chest x-ray too. This man will take you down there. But can I
ask, are you a smoker? Good. And what’s your line of work?”
Ben explained that he was a tree surgeon, but he also worked with a lot of the timber he
felled for the carpentry and joinery trade. That seemed to give the doctor an idea. “Ah,
wood dust,” she said, “Exposed to it a lot, would you say? And any allergies? Well, maybe
we need to test that too. If I remember, some species are serious triggers. And there are
mould spores and what-not. I’ll refer you to a specialist, but it could be that long term
exposure has tipped you over the edge.”
Ben told her that he’d been spending the last few days sawing an especially large intake of
cedar for timber. “Ah-ha! We may have found your smoking gun,” Doctor Norman
concluded. “Well, we’d like to keep you in tonight, if your friend doesn’t mind picking up
your things from home. It looks like you’re out of the woods, so to speak, but it’s best
you’re kept under observation, and kept topped up with oxygen for the time being too. I’ll
see you again in half an hour or so when we have your x-rays, then we’ll see about moving
you onto the ward. All right?”
The doctor was already moving on, but the hospital orderly seemed in less of a rush. “Are
you coming down to radiology with me, pet? You can keep your man company.”
“He’s not…” Marcie began, but then gave up, finishing simply, “Thank you.”
“Hoy your bags down there and we’ll be off then.”
Ben saw Marcie pick up his rucksack that she must have brought from the gym and what he
guessed was her sports bag too. She squatted down beside him to stow them under the bed
as he lay there, whilst the orderly pulled back the curtains right back. Then he was gliding
through the hospital again. He vaguely recognised the scenes and the whirl of activity as
they passed, but with much more awareness now than when he’d first arrived. He was
feeling less spaced out now too, and wondered if that was something to do with the
doctor’s adjustment of his oxygen supply. Again he felt guilty at the trouble he was putting
people to when there were so many other people who were really sick.
The orderly left them in a corridor beside a blank door under an industrial warning light.
“Are you doing okay?” he heard Marcie ask. She must have been sat at a chair behind his
head, out of his line of sight.
“To be honest, I’m a bit scared,” he found himself confessing. “That doctor, if I understood,
she said I might have had a reaction to sawdust. If that’s a risk for me now, it means I can’t
work. And I don’t want to be a sick person, staying in hospital.”
“Hey, don’t worry about that, right? They just like to be sure. Once you’re here they want to
keep an eye on you, like she said. And don’t worry about the future now. Let’s just think of
the next step. Is there someone I can call for you to come round now?”
“Erm, no, I can’t think of anyone as it happens,” Ben puzzled. “My dad can’t come up from
Lincolnshire and my brother’s away. I can’t think my workmates would be that bothered.
Nor my other mates.”
“I was thinking of someone more like a wife or girlfriend or whatever,” he heard Marcie
explain with perhaps strained patience.
“Oh, erm, no. I can’t ask her. We’ve only just started dating, really. I’ve not known her that
long. I’ve only seen her a few times like that, as her boyfriend I mean.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Marcie replied, then sighed, “Well, I can get your stuff, like the
doctor asked, if you like.”
“Oh no, I can’t ask you to do that! I’ve already messed you around too much.”
He felt Marcie’s hand on his shoulder, her grip reassuring him. “Hey, it’s not a problem. I
said I can stick around. You’re my good deed for the day. You live near the gym, right?”
“Aye, in Shieldfield. I rent a flat from the Trust above the workshop. But really, I can’t ask
you to run around for me.”
“Okay, look. There’s a custom, you know, in some places. If I offer you something and I
mean it, I ask three times. It’s polite of you to decline twice, but on the third time you say
yes. You know I’m sincere, and I know you’re not taking advantage of my better nature. So,
for the third time, do you want me to pop round to your flat, pack an overnight bag for you,
then bring it in to you on the ward?”
“Aye, yes please,” Ben simply stated, feeling relieved that she might visit him again before
his night in the hospital.
“Okay. Good. Now, I know we don’t know each other, and maybe you don’t trust me. But if I
take your keys, I’ll leave you something of mine. It’s not much, but it’s precious to me.”
Marcie had withdrawn her hand. Now she was pressing something back into his hand. He
raised it to his face. It was a pendant, a kind of silver cross on a matching chain, warm on
his fingertips as if she had been wearing it against her skin.
“I’ll keep it safe,” he said, examining it closely. The cross had equal arms with notches in
their wide ends. He guessed it must be significant of something, but he couldn’t think what.
Just then, the door they’d been waiting at burst open and two people in heavy hospital
aprons stepped out. “Mr Osborne?” the older man said, reading from the notes he was
holding. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Suspected pneumoconiosis, I see. We’ll take an x-ray of
your chest now, okay? I’m glad to see you’ve read the sign and started taking your
jewellery off. Out running, were you? The forecast looked good for it this morning. Are you
okay waiting here, ma’am? We won’t need him for long.”
Then he was being wheeled into a darkened room and the medical staff were busy around
him, the man chattering as he worked quickly. “Pop your necklace in this tray. Do you have
anything else with metal? We’ll need to lift your shirt off too. Are you okay sitting up? I’ll
just unstrap the mask, if you can hold it over your mouth. That’s great. Now just lower it a
moment and breathe normally while we get this off. There we go, that’s all untangled. Hold
the mask up again and breathe in. Now we need to move you to this bed for the machine.
Can you stand up by yourself do you think? That’s great, take it steady. We’ve got you.
Excuse the cold hands. Well done, now lie back. That’s great. Hold the mask a moment
longer while we get set up. Now let me take that off you and just breathe slowly for a
moment.”
Ben was on his back again, his bare skin against a rough paper sheet. He felt the cold firm
plastic of the bed pressing through it as the x-ray machine hung over him. He was glad to
find that he could breathe easily without the mask and its oxygen. Then there was a
clunking noise and then the staff were back.
“Well done. We got a nice clear image. Hold the mask again please, and breathe normally.
Are you ready to sit up? Great, let’s pop your t-shirt back on. It’s awkward with this pipe,
isn’t it? At least you’re not on the IV too. There we go. Shall I pop your necklace on for you
too? That’s it, easier for me to do than you. Now I’ll put the mask’s straps back on then you
can lie back again. We won’t keep your wife waiting any longer.”
Ben interrupted, “She’s not my wife,” but if the radiographer heard, he didn’t comment.
“There we go, ma’am, safe and sound. I’ll call for a porter, and you should be back with the
A&E team in just a moment. I’m sure you’ll get well soon, young man!”
“I see you put my necklace on,” Marcie said as she stood over Ben, once they were alone
again, “Does that mean I can have the keys to your flat now?”
“I’m sorry. The x-ray man, he put it on me.”
“I’m teasing! You’ll keep it safe there. It was a gift from my grandmother, you know. Now, I
heard your address read out. Let’s check I got it right.”
She’d been rummaging in her bag under Ben’s bed, to find a pen and paper he guessed,
when another orderly appeared. “Excuse me. Patient for A&E, yes?” he asked brusquely.
Ben soon found himself back in what seemed to be the same cubicle he’d been in before.
The orderly closed the curtains on them and left.
“This is absurd,” Ben said. “I’m sure I can stand up and walk about. I’m not sure I even
need this mask anymore. I had it off when they took my x-ray.”
“Hey, you be a good patient, okay? Patience is the word. Now let me get your address, and
you can tell me how to get there. You’d better talk me through how to find what you need
too.”
With her pen and what seemed to be a small Filofax in her hand, Ben explained things to
Marcie in short bursts. He was embarrassed about describing where she might find his
clean t-shirts and underwear, but she coaxed it all out of him. He realised he was becoming
increasingly happy and confident in opening up to her, responding to her practical
competence. She thought of the toothbrush and toiletries that he’d need too, then she
asked, “And pyjamas?”
“Erm, I don’t wear any,” Ben confessed.
“Well that won’t do in hospital,” she said decisively, looking straight at him. “You’ll just
have to wear your boxer shorts and a t-shirt. I’ll bring extras.”
They both startled when the curtain was pulled back loudly again, letting Doctor Norman
enter the cubicle with a male nurse. “Ben and, I’m sorry, what was your name?”
Marcie answered before the doctor went on, speaking quickly. “I’m glad you’re still here to
hear this too. I’ve had a look at your x-ray, Ben, and I’m sorry to say that it might not be
simple asthma. It’s not too serious, don’t worry, definitely nothing like cancer. But there
are indicators of something called pneumoconiosis on your lungs. We see it more in miners,
ship workers and so on. It is an occupational hazard of working with mineral dust
especially, but your sawmill is definitely a risky environment too. You’re unlucky to have
got it so young, but on the other hand it’s lucky that we caught it early. I’ll make sure
you’re referred to a consultant, but I’m afraid you may need to spend some time off your
work, especially if there’s also an allergic reaction that’s developed to trigger the asthma. It
is one of those things that doesn’t just go away again, I’m sorry to say. But you’re already
doing the right thing by not smoking, and you’re still young. I don’t want to give you false
hopes, but I think if you avoid the problematic dust, you should find you adapt and get fit
again in time.”
Ben found he was speechless, and was suddenly acutely aware of his breath, taking in the
hissing artificial gas. Would this be his future? When Marcie gripped his hand, he realised
he’d involuntarily reached out for her to hold it again.
“Thank you for your candour, doctor,” Marcie spoke up, perhaps nervously filling the
silence, “It’s a lot to take in, I guess. Does that mean Ben will need to stay in hospital
longer?” Ben was grateful that she’d asked exactly the right question, thinking just of the
next step for now.
“No, I don’t think so. It will be for the ward doctor to decide, but I expect if you have a good
night, we’ll be very happy to send you home. You can get a sick note for your employer
from us before you leave, and we’ll write a letter to your GP. Make an appointment with
them, and they can set you up with routine asthma treatment. If you take it easy, everyday
activities should be no problem at all. But for the next few weeks at least, don’t do anything
too strenuous. Avoid activities that might elevate your heart rate or leave you panting. The
consultant should advise you on a gentle fitness regime to build up your strength up again
slowly. Now, if it’s okay, I’d like you to sit up and we can see how you’re breathing without
that mask.”
Marcie dropped Ben’s hand, then the nurse held Ben’s elbow as he swung around onto the
edge of the bed. Doctor Norman stepped forward to lift the straps over Ben’s head and to
take the oxygen mask away. “Just breathe normally, if you can,” she instructed. Ben was
glad that his breath seemed to be coming easily, despite his anxiety. “Good. Let me listen to
your chest if I may,” the doctor said, putting her stethoscope in her ears.
Ben noticed Marcie look away as he raised his t-shirt, gathering the fabric under his
armpits, but then perhaps she thought twice about the false pretence of modesty. She
looked up into his eyes and seemed to smile encouragingly whilst the doctor placed the
cool stethoscope in different positions all around his bare chest.
“Very good,” the doctor finally announced. “There are definitely spots that sound a bit
ragged, but overall you seem to have bounced back very well. I can’t hear significant
residual constriction from the asthma. We’ll keep you on the oxygen while you’re here, but
I’m going to recommend we just put a little pipe under your nose. Nurse, could you find a
cannula for Mister Osborne before we move him, please? Drop it back to one litre per
minute now. He’ll be fine going up to the ward in a chair too. You can slip the mask back on
for now.” As the nurse helped Ben back into the oxygen mask, Doctor Norman added, “By
the way, I hadn’t noticed your pendant before. It’s very nice. Do you have a connection to
Malta?”
Ben wasn’t sure what the doctor meant, and was glad when Marcie spoke up as the nurse
helped him to lie back again, “It’s my family, actually. My parents were both born there.”
“Ah, of course. Well, I hope it brings you good luck, Ben. As I say, take it easy, and I’m sure
you’ll feel fit and healthy again before too long. I’ll discharge you from A&E now, so all the
best.”
“And I’ll just get that oxygen pipe for you, Ben, then we’ll get you onto the ward,” the nurse
added as both of them left.
“I’m sorry, that didn’t sound like good news,” Marcie said, drawing her chair close to Ben’s
bedside again.
“It’s quite a lot to take in. But I’m sorry too. People keep thinking we’re a couple. And it’s
my fault that you’re here at all.”
“Stop fussing! I said I’m happy to help.” Marcie hesitated, then went on, “Does it bother you
that they think we’re a couple? Would you rather I hadn’t been here for all that?”
“No,” Ben replied earnestly, then realised how sincerely he meant it, how it actually made
him very happy to imagine Marcie as his girlfriend. She was quite different from his usual
partners, less glamorous in a way, smaller and darker, more intellectual perhaps. But she
had shown such self-assurance and kindness throughout his sudden crisis, throwing herself
in wholeheartedly to support him. He thought of Jo, with whom he had a date coming up,
after the night they’d spent together just last week. She was blonde, graceful, fun-loving
and proud of her own dazzling beauty. But he couldn’t picture her here, now.
He touched Marcie’s cross through the fabric of his t-shirt, pressing it into his chest,
thinking of the insight into its significance and how that made Marcie seem somehow exotic.
He had thought that he was just wearing her necklace as a kind of insurance for her access
to his flat, but perhaps she’d offered a part of herself to him already as well, giving herself
into his trust. These thoughts came to him an instant, before he went on with his answer,
“No, I am very glad that you’ve kept me company.”
He was aware that he’d dodged Marcie’s other question. He couldn’t think how he’d
explain his feelings about the two of them as a couple, when really they were still strangers.
She might be married herself, he realised, someone’s mother even. But even as these
thoughts arose, he somehow recognised that they couldn’t be true. He felt sure they were
both still in that fluid exploratory phase of their early adult lives. Well, his circumstances
might have suddenly changed in that regard, he reflected ruefully.
Only a moment had passed while they’d sat in silence, perhaps each gathering their
thoughts, before the nurse came back, pushing a heavy-looking wheelchair with a bundle of
wrapped medical supplies on its seat. “Okay, we’re all set. I’ll just fit this canula. They can
seem a bit of a nuisance at first, but you’ll get used to it in no time. Then I’ll move you up to
Ward Thirty myself. Did Doctor Norman say you were popping out to get some things for
Ben, pet? You’ll find Thirty no trouble if come back through the main entrance. It will give
you a chance to change out of your gym kit too, right? I bet you didn’t expect you’d be
hanging around a hospital in it all afternoon!”
“Yes, use the shower if you want,” Ben suddenly realised how selfish he’d been, not
thinking of Marcie’s discomfort, “Take your time.”
“Aye,” the nurse agreed, “There’s no rush. Ward visiting runs to seven. And if you’re quiet,
we’ll let you stay later. Grab yourself some scran too. Are you off now then, pet?”
He’d asked this as Marcie had made a move to pull the bags out from under the bed. This
had surprised Ben a little, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to get move on. He just
hoped he hadn’t caused any offence by mentioning the shower. He certainly didn’t want
her to think that he’d thought she was dirty for sitting around in her gym clothes, but felt
he couldn’t say anything more in front of the nurse.
“Are your keys in one of these pockets?” was all Marcie asked, holding up his bag. Ben tried
to guide her, but she fell back on trial and error to find them, whilst the nurse took Ben’s
mask off. Once she had the keys, she bundled Ben’s bag back up, then checked she had her
Filofax in her own bag, before glancing at her watch. “I’ve got all I need now. I’ll leave your
gym rucksack here, and I’ll definitely be back before six, okay?”
The nurse was fiddling with the oxygen lines around Ben’s face, but he tried to say as
clearly and sincerely as he could, “Thank you. You’ve really been great. Honestly, I don’t
know what I would…”
“Oh, shut up!” she interrupted with a wry smile. “You just sit tight and take it easy, and
we’ll talk more about everything soon.”
Chapter 2
As she strode off, the nurse removed Ben’s mask for the last time and fiddled with the pipe
under his nose. “Sorry, that’s probably a bit itchy for you. But try not to fuss at it, and I
promise you won’t even notice it by bedtime. Now, are you ready to move to the chair?”
Ben accepted the nurse’s help to get up from the bed, whilst trying to ignore the pinching
irritation in his nostrils, but he felt that he could have managed fine on his own. The
practical man gathered Ben’s gym bag up and put it on his knee, then busied himself with
tidying the pipes and rubbish away. It wasn’t long before he’d finished and got behind the
wheelchair to set off for the ward. As he pushed them along the maze-like corridors to a lift,
he chatted lightly behind Ben’s head.
“She seems like a good lass, your hinny,” he observed.
“We’re not…” Ben began.
“Not married yet? Fiancé then?”
“No, erm,” Ben stuttered.
“Maybe it’s time to pop the question then. I’ve seen a few that propose at their bedside, like.
It’s a test for a couple, getting yourself laid out here. You get to see your other half’s true
qualities, so to speak. And I’d say yours are solid gold. You’re a lucky man. Not that it’s my
business, mind.”
Ben had felt a bit affronted by the man’s presumption, but he appreciated all that he’d said,
accepting the man’s honesty in sharing his idle thoughts. It must have seemed plain to him,
seeing Ben with Marcie. And Ben knew the man was just trying to be friendly.
“It’s given me a lot to think about, today,” he replied vaguely as the nurse wheeled him
from the lift into a large hall-like room. Ben realised that this was the ward. The old
hospital’s grand structure was clear behind all the modern equipment cluttered around the
beds’ bays, with utilitarian blinds half-closed in tall windows.
“Aye, well you’re in the right place now,” the nurse said as they approached a reception
desk, “You take it easy and give yourself time. Gan canny, now.”
The male nurse shifted his attention to an older female counterpart. They had a quick
conversation in a low tone, then she took over with a cheery greeting, pushing Ben to a
booth in the long room of beds, some hidden by curtains. She let him stand up for himself to
get into the chair beside the bed, fiddled with his tubes, then promised the ward doctor
would see him soon as she pushed the chair away.
After being left alone to his thoughts for a while, a young male doctor did turn up to review
his case. He spoke to Ben in more detail about the asthma and the pneumoconiosis, and
about the next steps for a GP appointment and a specialist consultation. As they spoke, it
dawned on Ben just how serious his situation had been. If the ambulance hadn’t come
promptly, there had been a very real possibility that he would have died right there in the
gym. Marcie had quite literally saved his life.
The doctor gave Ben permission to take himself to the bathroom on his own, told him that a
meal would be brought to his bedside at around six, and concluded by saying that he’d see
him again on his evening rounds. Then Ben was left on his own again.
He thought he’d better call his dad to let him know what had happened. He got his mobile
out guiltily, not sure if he was allowed to use it on the ward having passed signs on the
walls, but no one seemed too bothered. Of course once he got through to his dad, the old
man was worried and wanted to come straight up. He said he could leave the farm to “the
lads”, but Ben knew that he didn’t like trusting everything to the hired labourers, so he
insisted he stay put. His dad asked if there was anyone looking after him, and Ben found
himself talking about Marcie. He did not mention that he hadn’t even known her before
he’d collapsed. “Well, make sure she’s got my number, and tell her not to be shy if she
needs to call,” his dad told him before they rang off.
Then, with an awkward guilty apprehension, Ben thought he’d better call Jo too, to explain
what had happened and to cancel their upcoming date. When she answered, she seemed
rather uninterested in his collapse at the gym. “So if we’re not going out on Thursday, do
you want to keep it going at all?” she asked.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, we’ve only just started, as a couple I mean. If you can’t make this weekend, I could
see someone else. Should we call it a day and say we’re singles again?”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Ben found himself saying. He felt surprised and a little
hurt at how fast Jo’s thoughts had moved on, but he could see her logic. There was no
reason for her to stop having fun because he was unwell, and if they made a clean break of
it now, she’d be free of any doubts or guilt when she met someone else that she fancied.
“Thanks for understanding, Ben. We had fun, right? Maybe we’ll see each other around
again, sometime when you’re feeling better. You take care now.”
And with that, they were saying goodbye, perhaps for the last time, Ben thought sadly. But
at that moment he heard a familiar voice from the desk at the end of the ward. Marcie had
returned already, and found where he was.
He raised his hand to wave as she walked down the ward with what he recognised as one of
his old sports bags. She’d changed into a loose blouse with a flower print, tucked into dark,
baggy high waisted trousers, and she was still carrying her own gym bag as well, he noticed.
He also couldn’t help himself from noticing how her outfit emphasised her short hourglass
figure. “Hiya,” he said meekly, “You came back quickly.”
“I got my car,” she explained as she dropped the bags and found a chair to pull up by his.
“It’s only a mile or so from here to my flat, in Jesmond, and about the same again to yours,
but it seemed sensible to drive, despite the traffic. They’ve got a car park here. And I could
park right in front of those big doors at your place, next to your pickup, if that’s what you
call it. I didn’t know there were old buildings like that in Byker.”
“It’s more Shieldfield than Byker,” he corrected her without thinking, “Or Ouseburn maybe,
like my name. But yes, it’s an interesting place. It was a stables and coach house. I guess
there’s an old Armstrong family connection. I rent it from the Armstrong Trust, who I work
for, you see. Worked for, I guess.”
“Hey, don’t worry about that yet. I’m sure they’ll understand. Just start by phoning in sick
tomorrow and take it from there. But I found your stuff okay, and thank you for saying I
could use your shower.”
“It’s nothing, after all you’ve done for me. I’m sorry if you found it a bit of a mess in there,”
Ben said guiltily. Yet at some level, he realised his imagination had also been stimulated by
the thought of Marcie undressing and getting under the shower in his flat.
“I’ve seen worse,” she replied dismissively, “And I bet you hadn’t left your flat this morning
thinking that a strange woman would be turning up to go through your things! But look,
Ben, when I was there I noticed something that could be serious.”
He asked what she meant, and she explained, “Your rooms, they’re just above your
workshop, right? I didn’t go into the space downstairs at all, but as soon as I walked into
your flat I could smell the sawdust. The dust on your furniture was thick, and I bet it’s from
your timber cutting. I shook this bag when I found it, and clouds of dust came off it then too.
It’s no wonder your lungs are struggling. You’re breathing that stuff in twenty-four hours a
day!”
Ben was about protest, to defend himself by saying that the last week had been especially
heavy, but he knew she was right. “What can I do?” he asked weakly.
“Is there somewhere else you can stay? You mentioned a girlfriend, right?”
“Erm, ex-girlfriend at it happens. I just spoke to her, and she wanted us to separate.”
“What, just like that? You told her where you were? Didn’t she want to come in to see you
at least?”
“No. I can see it from her side, though. We’ve not been together long, and there’s no reason
why she should change her lifestyle, because of what’s happened to me.”
“I’m sorry, and I’d normally stick up for the sisterhood, but what a bitch! Oh, you poor
thing. On top of the news you’d just got from the doctor. Dumping you just like that. The
selfish little madam!”
“It’s no big deal,” Ben found himself saying. “I’m more worried about going back to the flat
now, with all that dust, like you said.”
“Hey, look. I’ve got a spare room. It’s not a big place, just one of those box rooms that you
get in a Tyneside flat, you know? There’s a lot of books in there right now, and they might
be a bit dusty, but I can hoover. Also it would just be a camp bed, I’m afraid, but it would be
clean. Why don’t you stop over with me when you’re discharged, until you can sort things
with your work and the flat?”
“Oh, no Marcie, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already wasted your day on me. I can’t
intrude any more.”
“Let’s not do this again. You didn’t ask, I offered. You just need to say yes.”
“This is really very generous of you, but surely you have a husband or a boyfriend? They
wouldn’t want you to invite a strange man back to your flat.”
Marcie sighed. “I’ll be honest with you, Ben. There is someone. Well, I don’t know if you’d
call him a boyfriend. He’s married you see, to someone else. I guess that makes me his
mistress, if we’re speaking plainly. But our relationship, it’s like being in a slow-motion car
crash. The way it is now, I really couldn’t care less if he gets jealous when I invite a friend
over to sleep in my spare room. And this isn’t about me anyway, it’s about you. Do you
want a bed at my place for tomorrow night that’s dust-free? This is the third time I’ve
asked, and you remember the deal?”
“Okay then, thank you. Thank you for offering and thank you for being honest. I would be
very grateful for a clean space, somewhere to flop when I get out of here.”
“That’s settled then. And it looks like they’re bringing food around now!” Ben had noticed
the noise and the smells that reminded him of school dinners. Even though he had doubts
about what they might be serving, he realised he was ravenously hungry. When the
orderlies came to his bed, he eagerly accepted the pie and vegetables that were offered.
They arranged things on his table in a business-like way, apologising to Marcie that they
didn’t have any for visitors, then left them in peace.
As he tucked in, Ben remembered something else. “Erm, I forgot. I’ve still got your
necklace,” he said around a mouthful of food. “You mustn’t leave without it.”
“Yes, there was a funny coincidence about that,” she said vaguely, before explaining, “Do
you remember me saying it was from Malta? And did I say it was actually a gift from my
grandmother, my father’s mother, my Nanna, as we call her? Well, I was in your flat when
my mobile phone rang, and it was her. I only usually speak to her at the weekend, but she
said that she’d been thinking of me and she hoped that I was okay. I reassured her I was,
but I’d just had to take a friend into hospital. She wanted to know all about you, of course,
but I had to tell her we’d only just met. Well, she said she’d just come back from the church,
where she’d lit a candle for me and made a prayer for my happiness. She told me to touch
the necklace, to feel the ‘talba’ for you too, and I had to admit that I’d actually just left her
pendant with you. Now I’m not a practising Roman Catholic myself at all, you understand,
but I sometimes wonder about the power of superstition. It seemed very odd that she’d
thought of me just then, but kind of comforting too. And it was odd that she mentioned the
necklace too, but she was very pleased to hear it was with you, helping you get better. I’m
sorry, you don’t need to listen to this nonsense.”
Ben had nearly finished his meal already, but he’d been paying close attention, intrigued by
this small insight into Marcie’s life. “No, don’t call it nonsense. I’m not religious myself
either, but it is comforting - comforting to have your Nanna’s best wishes. Tell her I send
them to her too. Is she well, for her age I mean?”
“Oh, she’s okay. She’s still with it, and usually bright and cheery when we speak. But I don’t
know if you’ve seen it, they kind of fade, don’t they? It’s as if they’re already halfway to the
other side, spending more time in the company of the dead than the living. Ha, listen to me!
You must think I’m some kind of superstitious spiritualist myself, and I’m really not. I’m
almost a proper scientist!”
“No, I know what you mean. But what is it you do then, for a living?”
“Well, I get paid for working at the university library, probably not more than five hundred
yards from where we are right now. But what I’m trying to do is complete a PhD in
information science.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Ben confessed.
“Well, it used to be things like library catalogues, but now it’s about organising things on
the Web. Perhaps. There’s a lot of very detailed stuff I wouldn’t want to bore you with.”
“No, I’m interested, but you’ll have to keep it simple for me. I don’t go to libraries much. I
don’t really understand what you mean by completing a PhD either. I thought you just got
them by working at universities. I don’t know anyone clever enough to have one, though.”
“Oh, it’s meant to be a big test that you spend three years or more getting ready for, just to
prove you can do academic research. It means you can get better jobs at the university, as a
lecturer or whatever. But I’m not sure you need to be that clever. It’s more just stamina
that you need to get through it.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re more than clever enough, and I’ve seen you’ve got stamina, in the
gym, right?”
“Right,” said Marcie, looking at him oddly, perhaps unsure of whether he was joking. “Can I
ask, do you mind that I know your age, Ben? The woman at the gym found your date of
birth in your records and read it out to the ambulance driver, then they read it out again
when they checked you into A&E.”
“And you remember? No, I don’t mind. So you know if I’m older than you, right?”
“Actually you’re a bit younger. You were born on the third of May 1977, right? So you’re
twenty-five. I was born in November 1975. I’m twenty-seven already.”
“Wow, how did you remember that?” Ben asked, hoping he’d judged it right by trying to
flatter her about being younger than she looked. She had seemed so mature, he was
actually a little surprised that she wasn’t even older.
“Let’s say it’s a librarian’s information science training. But that’s a precious bit of data,
right? Benjamin Osborne’s date of birth. It can let the whole of the NHS find every medical
record they have about you. If the records haven’t been lost, they can find your birth details,
your inoculations, your childhood GP visits, your current prescriptions. And this trip to
hospital, your own GP can check tomorrow what’s happened, or in fifty years’ time, when
you’re an old man. And that’s all getting so much easier and faster and more detailed with
computers and the Internet.”
“So information science makes that work?”
“See? You’ve got it already. And no one said you had to have a PhD to understand that.”
“No one said I should go to university, when I was at school,” he admitted.
“Hey, I’ve been bothering you way too much with all this stuff about my work. You must be
tired.”
“No, I’ve really enjoyed you telling me about it. I don’t know anyone else who knows about
stuff like this.”
“And I don’t know anyone else who knows how to bring down a tree safely and turn it into
furniture. You’ll have to show me what you’ve done. You work in Jesmond Dene, right? I’d
not heard there was an Armstrong Trust. I assumed the council looked after it.”
“Well, they do, mostly. The Trust isn’t very big, and mainly helps the National Trust with
Cragside, you know it? But they have an interest in conserving the Dene, down into Heaton
Park too. I guess they’ll need to look for someone else now.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you back to that. I just thought we could go for walks
together in the Dene, especially now that spring is coming.”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
“Okay, well hold onto that thought. And hold onto my Maltese charm for now too. Think of
my Nanna’s prayers to help you get better quickly. I’ll stop by again in the morning to see
when they’re discharging you, then I can give you a lift back to my place when you need it.
I’ll leave my details with you too, just in case,” she said, reaching into her own bag for her
Filofax.
“I don’t know how I can thank you enough, Marcie. It’s meant a lot to me. All this, it would
have been a million times harder without your help.” Ben hesitated as Marcie wrote out her
full name, address and telephone numbers for him, then he ploughed on with what he
wanted to say, “And it means a lot to me too, that you told your Nanna I was your friend. I
like the thought of us being friends, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Marcie said with a laugh, putting her pen down to reach for his hand.
“We were strangers when you walked into the gym this afternoon, but now we know each
other quite well, right? And I think we’re getting on together just fine.”
Ben didn’t go further, but he thought again of what the doctor had assumed and the nurse
had said. He looked at Marcie’s small hand in his big, calloused paw. Could this woman
become his girlfriend, his soul partner? They were the complete opposites of each other in
so many ways, but somehow they’d made a connection, which was only going to become
stronger. He gripped her hand gently. “I think we are too,” he lamely replied.
“Hey, it’s been a big day,” she said, jiggling his hand about with hers. “You’ve had to put up
with an awful lot that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially not someone as kind and
patient as you. But I was glad I could be here to help. No one really knows what’s going to
happen tomorrow, right? But I’m glad that I will be able to help you then too, whatever
your path is after that. And we can both be sure of looking forward to walks in the spring
sunshine at least.”
“Thank you,” was all Ben could think to say, then he remembered what the young ward
doctor had said earlier, “You saved my life, you know”.
“Oh, enough! All this, it’s just the least that a friend would do. Now, you get some restful
sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
With a final squeeze of his hand, she pulled away and they said goodnight to each other,
Ben echoing her little wave awkwardly. It wasn’t how he would have liked to say goodbye
to her. A cuddle and kiss would have been much more satisfying, but that was hardly
practical with his tubes and his instruction to rest.
He watched her walking away, feeling guilty again for noticing how her bottom moved in
her loose trousers. But then he thought that perhaps there was no harm in noticing some
simple feelings of attraction towards her. They had got on well this evening, he hoped, and
it now seemed as if there were fewer obstacles than he’d feared to them becoming more
than friends. When Marcie had mentioned those paths that lay ahead, perhaps there was
one that she could share with him. For now it was enough to know that the possibility was
there, without rushing or forcing them down that course.
He looked down at the note she’d left. She’d written her full name formally, Marcella
Tabone, and it seemed mysteriously romantic to him. Then at the bottom, under her
address and numbers, she’d written “Get well soon” with a little cross. Maybe it was that
Maltese thing again, but Ben suspected it was something simpler. He felt a warm glow,
realising that perhaps they had parted with a kiss after all.
Ben copied her numbers into his phone, but noticing that it was quite low on battery, he
then turned it off. He folded Marcie’s piece of paper carefully to put it away safely in his
wallet. It wasn’t long before the same doctor who he’d seen before paid him another visit
with a nurse, who closed the curtains behind her. The young man explained that he hadn’t
wanted to disturb Ben earlier while had a visitor. He stopped Ben’s oxygen flow, asking
him to breathe through his mouth and stand up, then listened to his chest once again with a
chilly stethoscope.
“Good. Well, it sounds like there’s plenty of air in there,” he said finally, “but I’ll turn the
gas back on now, and I’d like you to keep the oxygen line on overnight, if it’s not too much
bother. Was that your wife who was here? Oh, just your girlfriend then. Well, will she be all
right to keep an eye on you if we discharge you tomorrow? That’s great. Have a restful
night now, and I’ll leave a note for tomorrow morning’s ward doctor to recommend that
you can go home. Take care now.”
Once he’d said goodbye, the nurse explained the nighttime routine, then Ben took himself
to the bathroom to change into a loose t-shirt and pair of boxer shorts that Marcie had
bought. It felt very odd settling into the strange bed before ten o’clock with people still all
around him and the tubing tugging on his nose. But as the lights went out, Ben felt himself
comfortably drifting into a restful sleep.
Chapter 3
His sleep was broken several times during the night, but he found that by sipping water
and tweaking the oxygen pipe’s position, he could settle down comfortably and drift off
again. At least once he woke with a firm erection, which he felt embarrassed of, but also
somehow reassured by. Though he could not remember what he’d been dreaming about, it
seemed like a good sign which somehow made him feel fit and healthy despite his body’s
moment of crisis.
He rose back to full wakefulness as it started to get light. He was aware of people moving
about, and decided to take himself to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The nurse who
found him sat in his bedside chair, dressed but still on his air line, seemed a little surprised
but pleased with his progress as she explained the morning routine. After he’d eagerly
eaten everything they brought him for breakfast, another young doctor visited him and
listened to his chest again.
“Well, Mister Osborne,” she said as she finished and folded her stethoscope, “I read the
report from the doctor you saw on this ward yesterday, and I’d agree that you’ve
recovered well. What I’d like to do now is take you off the oxygen, then let you take a walk
with one of the nurses. We’ll see if you can manage some stairs, then we should be able to
let you go before lunchtime.”
He felt relieved to lose the canula, and once he was left alone at his bedside once again, he
thought of Marcie. He found his mobile phone, switched it on, then found he’d missed two
text messages from her. She’d sent one to wish him good night, then another this morning,
saying that she hoped he’d slept well. He replied, passing on his news and apologising for
not responding earlier. Just a few moments passed before his phone rang.
It was her, of course, and she seemed eager to hear the details of how he’d found the night
in the hospital. She seemed genuinely pleased to know that he would probably be
discharged later that morning.
“Look, here’s my plan,” she explained, “I’ve just got into work myself, and as I said, I’m
right next door really. I brought the car in, just in case. They know I was sitting with a
friend in the RVI yesterday, and they’ll be fine letting me leave when I need to. Just give me
a ring when you’re ready to go, and I’ll come and pick you up from the ward, if that’s what
the hospital want.”
Once again, Ben felt hugely grateful for her confident pragmatism, on top of everything that
she’d done yesterday and her offer to take him into her home. He reassured her that he
would take it steady, and phone her again as soon as he could. Next, he used his phone to
contact the Armstrong Trust’s office. He didn’t know Rhona the matronly office manager
that well, but she seemed genuinely shocked to hear that he was in the RVI. She promised
to pass a message on to Harry, his supervisor, but she wouldn’t hear of him fussing about
anything else now. She told him to take care of his health, get plenty of rest and not worry
at all about missing anything at work. She asked if he had anyone to help look after him,
and he mentioned Marcie’s name.
“Well, she’s welcome to ring me herself if it’s too much trouble for you,” Rhona told him.
“Now, stop wasting your time with me, and get back to looking after yourself.”
A little later that morning, his short walk with an older ward nurse went well. She was
unsure of letting him take the long two flights down to the ground floor, then climb all the
way back up unaided, but she seemed pleased with his performance when he achieved this
slowly but surely. She found the doctor who’d seen him earlier as soon as they were back
on the ward, and she listened to his chest once more.
“Fantastic!” she pronounced, “There’s no wheezing at all. Mister Osborne, I have no doubts
about letting you leave us right now. Don’t forget, though, you’re not fighting fit yet. Those
lungs are scarred, and another asthma attack is a very real possibility. Avoid overexerting
yourself, and definitely avoid anything like the dust that caused this in the first place. Make
an appointment with your GP as soon as you can, and look out for your appointments with
the pulmonologist and allergist coming through. I’ll leave the discharge paperwork at the
desk, and you needed a sick note for your employer too, right? Give me thirty minutes, then
one of the nurses should be able to let you go. Do you have someone coming for you? Good.
Well, I’ll wish you all the best.”
As she left, Ben wondered at how the hospital doctors he’d met all seemed so rushed, but
he was still fundamentally relieved by what she’d said. He checked with the nurse that his
friend could come to the ward to pick him up, then once she had left too, he phoned Marcie.
She answered quickly, and seemed enthusiastic to hear that he would soon be ready to
leave.
Ben gathered his things together, then went to wait for his paperwork at the end of the
ward by the nurses’ desk. He was watching the lift when Marcie stepped out of it, wearing
her hair and trousers as she had the day before, but in a white blouse today, under a short,
tailored jacket, with a satchel over her shoulder. She seemed surprised to see him waiting
for her, but she smiled broadly as she approached. She held out her hands as he rose to
greet her. Ben found himself reaching out instinctively toward her. They grasped each
other’s elbows as he leant down to peck her cheek.
The close contact was very welcome, even as Ben breathed in the feminine scent of her
light citrus perfume. Then she moved, but Ben realised too late that she was trying to kiss
his other cheek in the Mediterranean way. His misjudgement meant that his lips slid across
the edge of hers. He pulled back awkwardly as she made a nervous laugh, but her hands
still held his arms.
“I’m glad to see you up and about,” she said by way of a greeting, “You’re looking well!”
“And I’m very glad to see you. I’m so grateful for everything…”
“Please stop,” she interrupted him, dropping her hands. “We’ve established that now. You
don’t need to keep saying it. I’m glad that I can help. That’s the end of it. Are you ready to
go now?”
Ben explained that he needed a discharge form and the note for his work. He went to the
desk to check for them, and a nurse went to find out where they’d got to. While she was
gone, Marcie asked him if he’d had enough sleep and enough to eat. He said that he’d been
comfortable in the night, but confessed that he still felt tired and hungry. Marcie assured
him that she could help put those things right. She explained that she could take the rest of
the day off from the library with her flexitime, and that her boss had already hinted that
she might be able to claim it as carer’s leave.
The nurse came back with some printed sheets for Ben, then said he was free to go, smiling
at Marcie. He thanked her, and asked her to thank the rest of the team if she could. Ben got
his jacket out of his bag, folded up the paper to put into it, then Marcie insisted she carried
it as they set off for the lift. She checked that he was okay with a short walk to the car as
they stepped out into the fresh spring air. Ben paused on the hospital’s threshold though,
taking a deep breath in, feeling as if he were making his first steps on an exciting and
mysterious new journey. Marcie smiled questioningly up at him, having come sharply to a
stop beside him, so he tried to reassure her by saying, “All’s good. Let’s go!”.
As they slowly walked from the hospital through the maze of university buildings, Marcie
explained that she’d not had much time to get her flat’s small spare room ready for him.
She had hoovered and put up the camp bed, but there were still a lot of her books in there.
She admitted that she had only managed to fit the bed in by putting its end under her desk,
and now the door didn’t open fully either. She didn’t know how long Ben might be staying,
but she promised that she’d make more space for him by moving her stuff out if he needed
it for more than a week. She remarked that he was a big man too, so she hoped he wouldn’t
be disappointed when he saw how little space there actually was.
“I know you’re bored of me thanking you,” Ben said, “But I am still very grateful to have
somewhere to go that’s safe and clean. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve lived in tight spaces, on
ships and boats sometimes, and I’m used to living out of a shoebox. As to how long I need
to stay, I’m afraid I just can’t tell you that. But I promise, if it goes on longer than a few
nights, I’ll pay you rent. You should get a fair rate for a lodger in Jesmond.”
They were just crossing a footbridge over the dual carriageway as they spoke. “Let’s not
worry about that now. It can wait until later,” Marcie said. Then she pointed out the
building they were about to pass by. “Hey! Did you know that’s where I work?”
As Ben looked at the sign over the door, he explained he only knew the university buildings
for the gigs, bars and parties he’d been to. He must have walked past this plain modern
building often, never realising what it was. Then Marcie asked him if he’d managed to get in
touch with his own work, to phone in sick. He said that he had, but he’d not spoken to his
supervisor directly, nor really talked about how serious it might be. She told him not to
worry, that there was plenty of time for all that later too.
They’d cut onto a road of what might once have been residential houses, taken over for
more university offices now it seemed. Marcie pointed out a small purple Ford Ka, proudly
saying it was hers. Once they’d got in and she’d started driving, it took them barely five
minutes to reach the residential terraced street that Marcie’s flat was on. “It can be a
nightmare finding somewhere to park here, but it’s easier at this time of day,” she observed,
reversing into a space confidently.
She took Ben’s bag as well as her own, then walked them towards a blue front door, set
back from the road by a tiny patch of untidy greenery. “Here we are! Number 33. Did I say
it was ground floor? We’ll need to get you your own set of keys too.” She unlocked the door
and stepped in, dropping the bags to the floor and slipping her shoes off automatically. Ben
followed her in, squatting to untie his own shoes.
“Oh, thank you!” Marcie said, “I’m afraid I’m not that house proud. That’s the door to my
bedroom, at the front,” she said, indicating a door that was ajar, though not opening it to let
Ben see inside. “Straight ahead is the room I made up for you. You’d better go ahead and
peep in. I don’t think we can both fit in there now!”
Ben stepped forward, pushing his way around the door to see the space that Marcie had
prepared for him. It was bigger than some box rooms that he’d seen in Tyneside flats like
this, but one wall was filled with shelving units, mostly crammed with books. There was a
broad desk under the window, looking out onto the untidy shared backyard. And squeezed
into the footwell of the desk was a camp bed, as she’d promised, made up with a white
duvet and a pair of pillows at the end behind the door. There would have been just about
enough space for the two of them to stand between the radiator and the bed, but there
wasn’t room for much else.
Ben noticed a framed travel poster hanging over the radiator, with a stylised urban sea
view in bold colours over the word Napoli. He also noticed that one row of slots in the wall
unit was empty, and the surface of the desk was clear apart from a small houseplant, a
weeping fig, he thought. He guessed that was all the space that Marcie had been able to
clear for his things when she’d got the room ready for him. He breathed in deeply, smelling
clear air and fresh laundry.
He stepped back into the corridor, smiling at Marcie. “I hope it’s okay,” she said nervously.
“I know there’s not much space, but I did try to warn you.”
“It’s perfect,” he said. “It’s a safe niche where I can breathe easily. This is a lovely flat, and I
couldn’t want for more. You’ve made it very welcoming and cosy, with the plant. And I like
the view over Naples.”
“Go through there, and you’ll see the living room too,” she prompted, seemingly pleased
with Ben’s reaction.
He pushed the door open and went into a restful room with a low soft-looking sofa, a small
dining table under the back window and yet more bookcases. There was a hint of lingering
incense in the air, so Ben guessed that Marcie burnt joss sticks. He also saw the colourful
touches of her taste, with the seemingly antique rug on the floor, the woven blanket throw
and embroidered cushions on the sofa, candlesticks and other ornaments among the books,
the bright sunshine orange paint on one wall, and more artistic framed posters. He admired
one large one that had been given pride of place on the orange wall above what must have
once been a fireplace. It had a gold background around a pair of stylised figures, a man
stooping to kiss a woman whose eyes were closed. Bursts of flowers seemed to
complement the dreamy look of what might have been bliss on her face. Then he noticed
that beneath it there was just a set of shelves topped by a small hi-fi, where he would have
expected the television to be.
“This is a lovely room,” Ben remarked sincerely as Marcie stepped in behind him, “But you
don’t have a tele?”
“Oh, I didn’t think to say! Is that a problem? Do you watch a lot of TV? Will you get bored?”
“No, don’t worry!” he tried to calm her, “I really don’t mind. I was just surprised. Like I said,
I think your flat is really lovely. I think it’s warm, cosy and thoughtfully done, and it shows
your character.”
“Thank you. But I don’t miss the TV. If I’m on my own, I usually just read in the evenings.
Oh, that makes me sound like a terrible intellectual snob!”
“Don’t be daft! I can see you’re a reader. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with so many
books.”
“It’s an occupational hazard of being a librarian,” she joked, then her face dropped and she
put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Ben! I’m so sorry, that was so tactless!”
“Don’t worry,” Ben said earnestly, realising what she’d just thought as he reached to
briefly put his hand on her arm in reassurance. “I still don’t really understand what’s
happened, or what it means for my future. It is scary, but if we can find ways to laugh about
it too, that’s got to make it easier.”
“Oh Ben, thank you. You’ve had such bad news and everything must feel so up in the air for
you, but you’re being so brave about it all.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re the one to be thanked. You’ve done so much for me in the last
twenty-four hours. If I’m coping well, it’s all thanks to you. And now you’re letting me stay
over in your home.” Then he added, trying to lighten the conversation, “So you this is
actually yours then, you’re not just renting?”
“Well, with the size of the mortgage, it’s more accurate to say the bank owns it. But yes, it’s
mine. I could put the deposit down with some money that my father left me when he
passed away.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. When did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Actually I was only seventeen. It was a big shock to my mum. I wanted to go to university,
but I stayed with her in Manchester, so I did my first degree there. Her name’s Vera, by the
way, and my dad was called Marc. His money was ready for me, but I didn’t use it until I
moved up to Newcastle for my library job and my PhD. I’ve been here over five years now.”
“I was a bit older when my mum passed away,” Ben confessed. Marcie’s echo of his
expression of sympathy from just a moment earlier was deeply sincere. “I’d finished my
NVQ and was already living up here. Dad seems like he’s coping okay though. He’s getting
on with running the family farm on his own now, and his sister is nearby, as well as his own
mother, old Granny Pat. Perhaps the farm is a prop, in a way. Whatever today brings, you
can be sure that the cows will still need milking first thing tomorrow. Oh, and he’s called
Dave. My aunt’s Grace. My mum’s name was Daisy.”
“Hey, I didn’t want to touch old wounds,” Marcie said, laying her hand on his arm now, “It’s
a strange coincidence that we both lost a parent when we were still quite young, but we can
talk about it later.” Then she dropped her hand and said breezily, “But I want to finish the
grand tour by showing you the kitchen and bathroom! Then I bet you’re ready for some
lunch.”
As Ben had expected, a door from the living room led into a narrow kitchen that ran down
beside the backyard, and the bathroom was behind that, in what he knew would have been
an extension to the original flat. A smart grey-tiled floor ran through both rooms, between
the parallel ranks of cream kitchen units and worktops, then under the door into the
bathroom. At Marcie’s invitation, Ben moved past the sink under the window and the
cooker opposite to pop his head around the door. He saw the room beyond was
surprisingly bright and spacious, with frosted windows on two walls, as well as a white
bath and the matching suite. He noticed a shower over the bath at the end nearest the door
behind a glass panel, and other details like the heated towel rack, a large wicker laundry
basket and some neat wooden cupboards, one of which he suspected hid the boiler.
Ben admired how compact, well ordered and clean it all seemed in both rooms, saying as
much aloud. Then he got on with trying to help Marcie with her preparation of some simple
soup and bread rolls for lunch. As it worked out, he was more of a hindrance, getting in the
way and having to ask where everything was. Marcie didn’t seem to mind though as she
happily stirred the pan and warmed their bowls. It gave him a chance to see how she
organised her tidy kitchen too.
As they sat at the small table in the living room with their lunch and glasses of water,
Marcie apologised that the view wasn’t better. Ben had to agree, looking past the
houseplants on the windowsill to the cracked concrete of the small yard, relieved only by a
few weeds and some abandoned children’s toys. He confirmed that she shared it with her
upstairs neighbours, then asked how well she knew them.
“It’s a young family who moved in recently, actually. They have two boys, five and three
years old, I think, and a baby girl. Don’t worry, you don’t hear them much. I think these
flats were actually built quite well for that. I was glad when they took it over from a rather
awkward old man who used to live there. I was hoping we might be able to agree to do
something about the yard now, as it happens.”
“Well, if I can and I’m still in the neighbourhood, I could help with that,” Ben said.
“Thanks. You’d be more use than my old boyfriend, I’m sure,” then she covered her mouth
again, and Ben saw her cheeks blush. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that you’re my new
boyfriend.”
Ben laughed, “No bother,” he said. “But you mentioned there was someone on the scene. Do
you want to tell me about him?”
Marcie sighed, then explained, “His name is Richard. Professor Richard York. His parents
must have thought that was a great joke when they named him, and he still finds it funny.”
Ben looked at her blankly, so she explained, “It’s a joke about Richard of York, King Richard
the Third, who Shakespeare wrote a play about? You’ve not heard of him? Well, why should
you have? He’s just another dead white male thug.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“No, he’s very much alive, unfortunately. I said he was married, didn’t I? Well, it must be
one of the oldest cliches, right? Having an extra-marital affair with one of your students.”
“That’s awful. He sounds like a creep,” Ben said, then feared he might have been too
judgmental.
“Well, I was a willing accomplice to his crime, if you want to see it that way. I was a grown
woman when I met him, and I could have made my own choices. But I was naive, of course.
I’d just finished with someone my own age, but he seemed to have got stuck at about
thirteen. His name was Jason, a useless computer scientist who’d been on my master’s
course at Manchester. After that unsatisfactory relationship with such a waster of a youth,
perhaps I over-compensated when I looked for someone with more maturity.”
“So Richard is older, then?”
“Yes, he’s forty-seven now, and his kids are teenagers. Perhaps I thought he might leave his
wife, or perhaps I just enjoyed being flattered and treated like a lady. Well, it seems we’ve
got nothing in common now, but I’m kind of stuck with him.”
“Only if you want to be, right?”
“Yes, you’re right. But it’s complicated, because he’s one of my PhD supervisors, do you
know? He’s supposed to guide me, and he’s the one who helps to decide if and when I pass
my course.”
Ben felt shocked. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but it almost sounds as if he’s
blackmailing you. If you don’t keep the relationship going, he could fail you or drop you
from the course. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I guess it is. When you put it like that, it sucks, doesn’t it? And don’t worry about speaking
out of turn. Let’s agree that we’re going to be the kind of friends who are honest with each
other, okay? Seeing you in hospital… Well, let’s just say it made me feel that life’s too short
to play games.”
“Okay, it’s a deal,” Ben agreed. “You certainly saw me at my most vulnerable, I guess.”
“Hey, and if we’re being honest with each other, you’re going to need some more changes
of underwear pretty soon! And because we’re still not sure about how risky that dust at
your place is for you, I was going to volunteer to go around there again this afternoon and
pick up whatever you need, for a week or so, let’s say.”
“Are you sure? Can you afford all this time off your work?”
“Again, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it. And if you want to know the details, I’m on
contract for three days a week, but we have a rota of shifts, morning, afternoon and evening,
seven days a week. We all take turns at the unpopular times, but I can be sure that I’ll be in
everyone’s good books if I trade a Tuesday afternoon slot for a Friday evening. In theory
the rest of my working week is for my PhD, but it probably doesn’t work like that for any
postgrad students. It’s normal to have idle weeks, then work around the clock to get a
paper out, or for the final push with the thesis I guess.”
“I’m not sure I understood all of that, but I think I get it. It’s kind of the same in my work.
Once you’ve got a contract to take out a big tree, you just work until it’s done. And if it’s
next to a main road, you might have to start at six AM on Sunday to do it. That’s kind of why
I’ve been sawing cedar for nearly a week straight, and I guess why my lungs are shot to
hell.”
“Hey, you mustn’t blame yourself. I’m sure it’s just one of those things. Remember, take it
one step at a time. Did you say the next thing is to see your GP? Just do that, then we’ll see
what happens after that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pop to the bathroom.”
“I’ll tidy the dishes,” Ben volunteered, but just as he’d started, he heard the doorbell ring.
“Could you get that?” he heard Marcie call, just a few feet away from him, behind the closed
door between the kitchen and the bathroom.
Chapter 4
He went down the corridor, drying his hands on a tea-towel to open the door. A short and
balding older man stood there, dressed in a tweed jacket over a shirt and tie. He looked
very surprised to see Ben. “Oh, hello,” he said in a plummy tone, then he asked, “Is Marcella
in?”
Ben guessed that this man knew Marcie well, and had even made a guess that this was
Richard himself, so he invited him in. The man strode down the short hallway ahead of him
just as Marcie called out, “Who is it?” Then, as all three converged in the living room, she
said, “Oh, it’s you Richard.” She seemed to draw herself up stiffly to her full diminutive
height, then went on formally, “I don’t believe you’ve met my friend Ben. Ben Osborne, this
is Professor Richard York. Richard, this is Ben.”
Richard thrust out his hand, and Ben shook it warily, unsurprised by the small man’s
excessive grip. “Pleased to meet you,” Ben said politely, but Richard had already released
his hand and turned to face Marcie.
“Ben’s had a bit of a personal crisis, Richard. He’ll be staying in my spare room for a few
nights.”
The older man seemed to ignore this statement. Keeping his back to Ben, he went on with
what he must have planned to say, “I saw your car parked outside the faculty this morning,
Marcella, but I didn’t see you in the office. I wondered if everything was okay, so I popped
round to check up on you.”
“Ben,” Marcie said with strained patience, looking past Richard. “I’m sorry to ask this, but
could you leave Richard and me to have a private word together for a moment? Thank
you.”
Feeling a little awkward, Ben retreated to the room that Marcie had made up for him and
closed the door. He wondered from Marcie’s manner if she was about to give her
supervisor an ultimatum, given what they’d just discussed.
He idly browsed the titles on the bookshelf, but they meant little to him. Trying not to
eavesdrop on the muffled conversation, he pulled one of the larger soft-covered books out,
perhaps wondering if had comic book pictures. The title, Building Expert Systems in Prolog,
seemed like nonsense, and the text on the back did not make it any clearer. Then Richard’s
voice became louder, so Ben could ignore it no longer.
“But he could be anyone. Has he given you references? What about a deposit, for goodness
sake?”
Clearly Richard was talking about Ben himself. He couldn’t hear Marcie’s reply, so he didn’t
know if she was defending him. But Richard’s shouting went on, “Well, we can throw him
out! I’ll break the news to him straight away.”
Suddenly Marcie’s voice was raised too, finding a volume and pitch that chilled Ben’s blood.
“You will do no such thing!” she shrieked. Ben could not have imagined that the kind and
modest woman he knew had such reserves of power, nor that she would bring them out in
his defence.
But she’d not finished. “It’s over, Richard! Get that simple thought into your vast mind! You
are leaving, right now, not Ben.”
“After everything I’ve done for you,” Ben heard both anger and wheedling in Richard’s
tone, “After everything I’ve given you!”
“You have given me nothing more than that which a student should expect of a competent
tutor. And you have taken a hell of a lot more!” Marcie shot back at full volume. “I am not
your pet, your bitch to come to heel at a tug on her lead, only to be shut out in the cold
when you want some cosy time at your family hearth! Get out now, Richard, and don’t
come back!”
“Marcie, be reasonable,” Ben heard Richard say loudly with apparent authority, but he
could still hear anger in his tone too. He judged Marcie might be in genuine danger from
this bully, and decided it might be time for him to step in.
He opened the spare room’s door and stepped into the living room, drawing himself to his
full height, filling his chest and pulling his shoulders back. “Is everything all right, Marcie?”
he asked in a calm but clear voice behind Richard’s back.
Richard’s hand was gripping Marcie’s arm, but he dropped it quickly as he looked around
and saw Ben.
“Yes, thank you Ben,” Marcie said in a steady voice, “Everything is fine. Richard was just
leaving, and I believe he has some keys that he wishes to leave with me.”
“I don’t have your keys on me,” Richard replied in a quieter but surly voice, sounding
suddenly more like a petty child.
“I think you do, otherwise you would not have risked wasting your time in coming to my
flat,” Marcie said with a steel-edged calmness.
The older man dug in his pockets in a bad-tempered way, pulling out a bunch of keys, then
fiddling with them to work two house keys off the ring. Without saying a word, he slapped
them down hard on the dining table, then stomped out of the room in stony silence. Ben
looked into Marcie’s anxious eyes as they heard the front door open then slam.
He saw her tears brimming as she held his gaze, then she raised her hands to her face and
blurted out, “Oh Ben, I’m so sorry you had to hear that!”
She sniffed, then started openly sobbing as Ben held out his arms. She stepped forward into
them, still with her hands to her face, but pressing herself into his chest. He put his hands
around her shoulders, hugging her to him closely, confused by his own feelings as he felt
his heart hammering. He deliberately took some long slow breaths, relieved that his chest
felt clear.
Suddenly the doorbell rang again and they jerked apart. “If that’s him again…” Ben started,
resting a hand softly on Marcie’s elbow.
But she interrupted, putting her own small hand over his, “No, I’ll go, if he’s really that
stupid.”
She pulled a tissue from a box that she found on the bookshelf to blow her nose, then
strode down the corridor as the bell rang again. Ben stepped into the hall behind her,
hanging back, but keeping himself in plain sight of the door.
But when Marcie opened the door, a young blonde woman was standing there. Ben thought
she looked tired as she shot an anxious glance at him past Marcie’s shoulder. “Is everything
okay, Marcie? I heard raised voices.”
“Oh, Shona, it’s you. Come in. I’m sorry. This is Ben. Come through, it’s all okay.”
Marcie led Shona to the living room and Ben followed them in. “Sit down, excuse me,”
Marcie said, blowing her nose as Shona planted herself down on the sofa beside her. Ben
took one of the dining room chairs, sitting forward on it a little awkwardly.
Shona had put a hand on Marcie’s knee for comfort, but she remained silent, letting Marcie
come around to tell her about everything in her own time. Ben didn’t feel that it was his
place to speak up, so he waited until Marcie cleared her throat, dabbed her eyes and began
explaining, “It was Richard. He came around and, erm, he objected to Ben being here. Ben’s
my new good friend. He’ll be stopping over in the spare room for a few nights at least. He
needed a place to stay. I finally gave him his marching orders, Shona. I’m cutting Richard
off.”
“Well, that sounds like it’s for the best,” Shona said, then reached around to give her an
awkward hug. Marcie sniffed and blew her nose again, but she didn’t seem to have
anything else to say.
Shona gave Marcie’s shoulder a squeeze then pulled away, leaning back into the deep sofa.
“So, a new lodger, huh?” She said brightly, whilst giving Ben a hard considered look. “I’m
your neighbour. I live upstairs with my husband Ali and our bairns, two boys, Cal and Zain,
and the wee girl Fiona. I hope they won’t disturb you, but you might see me taking them to
play out the back from time to time.”
“It’s good to meet you. I was just speaking to Marcie about the yard. I could help clear it
up.”
Marcie interrupted, “Oh, but you need to take care! He’s just come out of hospital, you see,”
she explained to Shona. “Sorry, do you mind me saying?” she asked, suddenly looking
anxiously at Ben.
“No, it’s better to share. But I can’t explain much about it myself. It seems my lungs have
been shot to pieces by my old job, sawing up too much wood.”
Shona seemed to be looking at him a bit sceptically now. “Aye, that sounds like a rough
deal,” she said, then turned back to Marcie, patting her knee, “Look, hen, I left the little ones
on their own. I’d better get back upstairs. Are you going to be all right?”
Marcie smiled at her ruefully, “Yes. Things are fine. I’m sorry we disturbed you.”
“No bother. You’re a brave girl. It sounds like you’ve done the right thing. Just shout if you
need anything.” Ben had risen to his feet with Shona out of politeness. She looked at him,
perhaps with some suspicion, saying, “Why don’t you see me to the door, Ben?”
As Shona stepped out of the front door that he’d opened for her, she turned back, speaking
in a low voice, “You be gentle with her, all right?”
“Oh yes, I owe her a big favour,” Ben replied earnestly.
“She’s a kind lass, but that man, he took advantage. You’re not going to do that, are you?”
Ben was a little taken aback by her blunt challenge, but he answered honestly, “I swear it.
Maybe Marcie will tell you sometime what she did for me, but I know I’m in her debt. I’m
deeply grateful to her, and I won’t forget it.”
“Aye, be sure to show you appreciate her then. And I’ll see you around,” she concluded,
tapping her finger to the side of her eye as she turned to her own front door.
“It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for coming down,” Ben said formally as Shona shot him a
final sceptical look, before closing her door.
Marcie was standing in the kitchen next to the kettle when he went back through. “I
thought I’d make a cup of tea. Do you want one?” Ben said he would, but Marcie went on,
“Holy Mary, look at my hands, I’m still shaking!”
“Do you want me to leave you in peace for a bit?” he asked her.
“No! Please keep me company, if that’s okay. Do you take it white? I have some sugar
somewhere.” The routine of making the tea seemed to be calming her. “Did Shona say
something to you?”
“She asked me to look after you, pretty much.”
“Oh, but it’s you who needs looking after, not me!”
“We can look after each other then. One good deed deserves another, right?”
“Maybe that’s the way it works, a virtuous cycle,” Marcie said, carefully passing him his tea,
then stepping into the living room with her own to sit at the table. Ben sat down across the
corner from her, unsure of what to say.
“Shona was right. That was a brave thing to do,” he tried to reassure her.
“Oh, the hard part starts now. I’ll have to refer this up through the university
administration, to request a new supervisor. They won’t like it.”
“I’ll help if I can,” Ben offered. “At least I can help around the house, if you need to put in
extra work.”
“Thank you, but this is my battle. You’ve already been a great help. I’m sorry you had to
hear what I said to Richard, but I was glad you were here. I was getting a bit scared for a
moment there, before you came in.”
“Don’t give a second thought, about what I heard. For what it’s worth, I thought you were
brilliant, amazing! The strength you showed, it was awesome. And I’m the one who should
apologise. I caused the situation. Richard wouldn’t have threatened you in the first place, if
I hadn’t been here.”
“Oh, if it hadn’t been today, it would have been some other time. I can see clearly what he is
now - just a bully, plain and simple. Maybe your being here was the trigger, but you only
catalysed something that needed to happen anyway. Do you think he really would have
hurt me?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Ben admitted, seeing her scared fragility. “He certainly wasn’t
going to risk taking a swing at me.”
“He wouldn’t have stood a chance. Holy Mary, what am I saying? I’m not the sort to cause
men to fight! I’ve never even seen violence like that. To imagine it could have happened
right here, Mother of God, it makes me feel sick. Would you really have laid into him if he’d
lashed out at you?”
“I’d have got between his fists and you if it had come to it, but I reckon I could have just
pinned his arm to make the point.”
“You’ve been in fights, then? For real?”
“Well, yes,” Ben admitted guiltily, “But a long time ago now. Down town on a weekend, you
learn to avoid the ones who are really looking for trouble.”
“I’m so naive. But hey, I’ve got your keys for you!” she laughed in a strained way, pushing
them across the table towards him, then looked anxious again, “But I’m not sure I trust
Richard not to have had another set cut. Do you think I should change the locks? Would you
be able to help with that?”
“I could certainly do that, but I don’t think you need to worry. He’d have to be really dumb
to try and break in, and he didn’t seem stupid. I’m betting he really wouldn’t want to give
you a reason to involve the police.”
“You’re right. Holy Mary, I feel like I want to ward this space, make it safe again, to purify it
somehow, change the air and get his taint out of here. I’m going to open the window and
back door, put something really loud on, and search this flat for anything of his. I’ll dump it
in a box and drop it on his bloody feet in his precious fucking office!”
Good to her word, she immediately stood up, leaning across Ben over the table to open the
window and let a cool breeze creep in. Ben felt somewhat ashamed of himself for noticing,
at a time like this, how close her chest briefly came to his face. As he deliberately took a
calm breath, she went over to the stereo, chose a CD, then began skipping through the
tracks. She turned the surprisingly calm music way up before striding into the kitchen. Ben
heard the wavering lyrics, “Oh, can’t anybody see, we’ve got a war to fight…” He vaguely
recognised the music. It wouldn’t have been his choice if he had wanted to exorcise some
rage, but as he listened to the tension in the singer’s voice and the ambiguous lyrics, he
thought he realised why Marcie had chosen it.
Marcie had come back through from the kitchen, where she’d jammed open the door into
the yard, and had started scanning the bookshelves. Occasionally she’d pull a book out,
maybe check inside its cover, then throw it into the middle of the floor. Ben picked up their
empty mugs and took them through to the kitchen to carry on with the washing up.
Marcie turned the music down a little after her favourite track had ended, but left it playing.
Ben went through once all the pots were on the draining board, and asked, “Can I help?”
“No, I’m doing fine,” Marcie said confidently, squatting on her haunches at the bottom of
the bookshelf. “I’d like to check the shelves in your room too, if that’s okay?”
“Sure. It’s your room really,” Ben said as she stood up, giving him a relieved smile before
she stepped out, passing close enough that he could feel the air move. For some reason he
noticed her perfume again, thinking how its pleasant spicy citrus scent contrasted with the
nastiness of the bad air that she’d implied was lingering.
Ben looked at the pile on the floor, with books lying open, jumbled together, their pages
bent. There were CDs in the pile too, their cases ajar and their disks slipping out. He
guessed that to the librarian side of Marcie’s mind, this must be some kind of ritual
humiliation for them all. He smiled as he began tidying them up after her, moving them to
piles by the front door, ready for their exile.
“Oh, thank you,” Marcie called out brightly when she saw what he was doing as she ducked
back into the living room. “I’ve left a pile on the floor in your room too now. Do you want to
sort it out as well while I check for anything else?”
There must have been close to fifty books in the hallway by the time he’d finished, many
looking like very dull textbooks on criminal law. As Ben stacked them, Marcie came up the
corridor behind him with a tied-up plastic bag, gripping more empty bags in her fist. She
dumped the full one next to his piles, then went into the bedroom. “Excuse me for a
moment,” she said from the doorway. “Do you want to chill on the sofa while I finish up,
then we can go over to your place? I might like the company on the drive, but I’ll go up into
your flat on my own to keep you safe, if you don’t mind waiting in the car.”
“That would be great, if you’re sure,” he replied, but thinking that he knew her well enough
now to count on her not changing her mind. He went to the spare room to empty the bag
that Marcie had bought to the hospital. He bundled his dirty clothes from yesterday onto an
empty shelf, arranging his toiletries next to them, but he put the t-shirt and pants that he’d
worn as pyjamas onto the camp bed’s pillow.
Going through to the living room, he picked up the keys from the table, then started
threading them onto his own keyring. It felt odd that he was making them his keys now, as
his thoughts replayed what had just happened. Despite everything else, his mind went back
to one remark that Marcie had made. She had been embarrassed when she had mistakenly
implied that he might be her new boyfriend. It had seemed to be an inconsequential slip of
the tongue, but Ben was intrigued that she might have thought such a thing was possibly
true.
As he examined his own feelings, he felt sure that he would very much like to fit into that
role, to truly become her new boyfriend, despite their differences. But then he remembered
what Shona had said too, and his promise not to take advantage of Marcie’s kindness. He
resolved to be patient. Despite the things they’d already gone through together, they were
still relative strangers. If the goal was clear and genuine, then the work and diligence to get
there could only be worthwhile.
“There was more than I thought,” he heard Marcie say from the doorway, interrupting his
thoughts. “I’m going to need some big boxes.”
“Oh, I’ve got lots of those tough plastic crates in the workshop, if you want to borrow them.
Hell, you can have them. The Trust isn’t going to miss them. They might be a bit dusty
though, I guess.”
“Thank you,” she replied, “I might take you up on that offer. And do you really think I’m
worried about getting a bit of sawdust on Professor York’s precious books right now? I’ll
shut things up, then shall we get straight off?”
“That works for me,” Ben replied, then held up his bunch of keys that he still gripped in his
hand, “Thanks for the keys for your flat too. I’ll look after them.”
“Think of this as your place too, now,” Marcie called out to reassure him as she bolted the
back door.
Her words brought a nagging thought that had been at the back of Ben’s mind into sharp
focus. He marshalled his thoughts as he picked up his jacket and empty bag, followed her
down the hall and then, once they’d slipped their shoes on, stepped out of the front door.
As they walked down the street together in the warm spring afternoon, Marcie just in her
shirt sleeves, he began trying to explain aloud what had been worrying him, “Marcie, you
know I’m very grateful for all this. But can I just double check that you’re sure about it all?”
“How do you mean?” she asked, looking at him across her car’s roof now that she’d
reached the driver’s door.
“About me staying over,” Ben said, ducking into the passenger seat as Marcie got in.
“Before we set off, I want to be clear. Some of those things Richard said, well, they’re true.
You don’t have references from me, nor a deposit. If I’m going to be your lodger, if you’re
letting a stranger stay in your home, shouldn’t you get those things? Now’s the time for you
to just drop me back at my place, or let me take myself back. I can pop back to your flat
before we leave, to fill up my bag again. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
“Is that it?” Marcie asked perhaps a little crossly, “We’ve been through this already. You
need a change of scene. I can help out. We’re not strangers now, and you’re not a lodger.
You’re a friend who is just crashing at my place for a while. If you’re still here in two
weeks’ time, we can have a conversation then about you helping out with the mortgage or
whatever. If we’re being all objective or legalistic about this, then yes, I am taking a risk by
putting you up. But you’re taking a risk too. I might turn out to be that shrieking harridan
every day of the week, who wants to play her music at top volume and throw her books
around when you’re trying to sleep. But I think you know that’s not who I really am, and
also I think that you really are the kind and trustworthy person you seem to be. We might
both be proved wrong, but real life doesn’t come with guarantees. Everything about this
feels right to me. It was right to help you in the gym in the very first place, it was right to
stay beside you in hospital, and it’s right to take you in as a friend. So is that clear? Are we
going to go and get some spare pants for you now or what?”
Ben laughed, feeling relieved as he said, “Aye. Yes. Let’s do it!”
Marcie reached over to squeeze Ben’s knee, then she moved her hand back to the gear stick
and started the car. “I fancy some music. Is that okay?” she asked, reaching for the car
stereo.
“That’s fine with me, but you’re the driver,” Ben said in what he hoped was a reassuring
and encouraging voice.
As the music played and they joined the traffic across town, Marcie asked what he thought
he needed from his flat. Underwear, a pair of clean jeans, t-shirts, a spare sweatshirt and a
proper waterproof jacket were all that he could think of, then he remembered that he
needed a phone charger too.
“What about something to keep you entertained? Are you in the middle of a book? Like I
said, I’m sorry about the TV, but is there anything else you do for fun in the evenings when
you’re on you’re own?”
Ben almost blurted out masturbation, but he wasn’t sure how she would take the joking
half-truth. “Erm, well there is one hobby I do on my own, but it wouldn’t really work in
your flat,” he confessed.
“Don’t be shy,” Marcie prompted teasingly.
He wondered if his joke would actually have gone down okay after all, but he pressed on
with his serious thought. “I make wooden models of tall ships, you know, like those ones
you see in a bottle, or the bigger ones you see sometimes, like in pubs and museums.”
“Seriously? I’d never have guessed. No, it would be tricky moving all the stuff you’d need
for that into my place. But wait, let me get this right,” she said, frowning and tapping the
steering wheel, “As a break from your work, which is chopping up trees into big bits of
wood, your hobby is to chop up small bits of wood and glue them back together? You’re a
man of many talents!”
Ben smiled as she laughed at her own joke, looking at Marcie as she glanced across at him.
“Oh, don’t give me those hurt puppy eyes,” she said, turning back to the traffic, “You know
I’m teasing. You’ll have to show me what you can do some time, but you might need to find
a different hobby while you’re with me. I guess you’re not much into reading for fun now,
but perhaps I can help? If you can’t ask a librarian to do that for you, what use are we?”
They were pulling into the back street that the Trust’s yard and Ben’s flat were in now. He
was impressed by Marcie’s sense of direction, navigating straight to it without asking for
help after only visiting it once. She pulled to a stop behind Ben’s Land Cruiser, then
checked she’d remembered the things he’d listed as he handed over his keys again. “Oh, if
you’re phone’s going flat, do you want to borrow mine? You could make any calls that you
needed while you’re waiting. Borrow my pen and take a bit of paper from my Filofax if you
need it too. Once I’ve got your stuff, you can explain where to find those boxes for Richard’s
junk.”
Once he’d seen Marcie climb the stairs and disappear inside with his empty bag, he pulled
his dying phone from his jacket pocket, looked up his doctor’s number, then called them on
Marcie’s. The receptionist seemed keen to book him an appointment as soon as possible
once he’d described what had happened. She found an early afternoon slot for him in two
days’ time, and Ben confirmed that he’d noted it down correctly before he hung up.
Looking at the phone, he thought of his dad and decided to call him too. Ben reached him on
his mobile, out and about on the farm, but he was happy to talk. Ben heard a noisy engine
die down in the background, then he explained that he was out of hospital but he wasn’t
back in his own flat because there was too much dust there. He felt as if he were crossing
some sort of threshold by going on to say that he was staying with his friend Marcie. Telling
his dad seemed to somehow make his new arrangement official, making his and Marcie’s
mutual commitment more real.
The old man said that Ben must pass on his profound thanks to her, that he hoped she
didn’t think he was a terrible father for not coming to see his ill son, and that he very much
hoped to meet her soon. Ben agreed to all that, reassuring his dad that Marcie understood
about the demands of the farm’s upkeep. Then he explained that he’d send Marcie’s
address and the landline number via text, and that he would phone again after his doctor’s
appointment. His dad wished him all the best, then rang off.
Ben thought of texting a few of his friends too, but only a moment later he noticed Marcie
approaching the car with his bag, now stuffed full. He got out and took it from her,
explaining the calls he’d made.
“That’s kind of your dad. I hope I meet him soon too,” Marcie said, adding, “But also, I’ll be
finished by lunchtime on Thursday. I can drive you round to the doctors, if you want.
Shush!” she commanded, as Ben was about to reply, “Don’t object. I only want to do it
because I’m nosy and I want to find out what’s wrong with you as soon as possible. Does
that make you happier?”
Ben laughed, gratefully resigning himself to the inevitable. He explained where his doctor’s
surgery was in Byker when Marcie asked, then she asked about the boxes he’d mentioned.
He pointed out how to open the wicket in the big workshop doors, explained the burglar
alarm, and gave her some guidance about where to find the empty plastic crates. He offered
to drop the back seats of her car while she was gone to make space for them too. Then, once
he’d seen her get the workshop door open successfully, he did just that, moving the travel
blanket and road atlas that he found there into the car’s footwell, out of the way.
When he saw Marcie staggering out with a stack of several large plastic crates, he strode
forward to help, but she called out, “Keep back! There’s dust everywhere. I tried to wipe
these down, but we’d better drive back with the windows open. Stand back!” said again
now that she’d dropped the crates in the back of her car. She stepped back and began
brushing at her blouse and baggy trousers. Inadvertently, Ben saw how her breasts
wobbled as her hands patted at the dusty marks over her chest.
“I’m sorry, I should have thought to warn you,” he said, looking away too late, feeling blood
rise to his cheeks.
“Oh don’t worry. These are going in the wash anyway. Let me lock your place up, then we’ll
get off, okay? Is it the same code then the set button on the alarm?”
Ben confirmed it was, again admiring her easy confidence. He shut her car’s boot and stood
by the open passenger door as she came back. She had a broad and seemingly genuine
smile on her face. If she’d noticed him looking lecherously at her chest, perhaps it hadn’t
much bothered her.
As she got into the car and belted herself in with Ben getting in beside her, she said, “I
know the last twenty-four hours have been rough for you.”
“You’ve had a testing time of it too,” he noted.
“Yes,” she agreed, “But you’ve really had the rug pulled out from under you. And yet,
somehow it feels as if things are looking up again already. Do you have that feeling too?”
“Yes, I do actually,” he replied, realising that it was true. “Right now, I have no idea what’s
in my future, but I feel open to it somehow.”
“That’s it,” Marcie agreed, “Together we’ve escaped the car crash, and there’s an open
road and fresh air ahead of us. Sadly, only metaphorically though. In reality we’ve got to
fight our way back across town in the end of day jam. Oh well.”
Chapter 5
As it turned out, the drive back did not take them that long. Then Marcie wanted to get
Richard’s stuff out of the house as soon as possible, so once Ben had dropped his bag in the
spare room and plugged in his phone, they loaded the boxes together, before taking them
out to the car with the carrier bags that Marcie had tied up. Ben found he could lift and
carry the heavily loaded crates easily, without any wheezing, and he felt satisfied that his
lungs weren’t that weak after all.
“Isn’t it a problem, leaving all this out on the street in full view?” Ben asked as they walked
away.
“I don’t think so. Who’s going to smash a car window for a load of old books?”
“I guess that’s the difference, living in Jesmond,” Ben observed dryly, as she let him back
into the flat. He wasn’t sure though that Marcie really understood how the security she
took for granted contrasted so much with some other parts of Newcastle.
“I’m glad that’s done,” Marcie said as she went through to the bathroom to wash her hands.
“What time did you want to eat? I was planning a cheesy pasta bake, if that’s okay. I feel
like opening a bottle of wine too, if you’ll share it with me?”
“That all sounds great,” Ben replied as she stepped into the kitchen to join him. “I’m
hungry now, actually. Would you mind an early tea?”
“Oh, of course, you poor thing!” Marcie exclaimed, lifting her hand to give Ben’s cheek a
sort of sympathetic pat, “You said the hospital food hadn’t filled you up, and I didn’t give
you much for lunch. Just let me have a shower, then I’ll get started.”
“I can cook, if you like,” Ben suggested, feeling a little useless as he stood there.
“No, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Marcie responded firmly, “Let me find you a book, like I
promised, and you can just relax on the sofa while I get myself ready, then get the tea ready
too.”
“Well, I’ll cook tomorrow evening, then. We can take it turns,” Ben said as he followed
Marcie into the living room, where she was scanning her bookshelf. Thinking again of her
planned meal, he asked, “Are you a vegetarian, then?”
“What? Oh, you’re thinking of the cheesy pasta. No, I just don’t eat meat every day. Here,
these are very popular. Have you heard of Terry Pratchett? Are you okay with fantasy
stories?”
“Like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings?”
“You’ve read Lord of the Rings?” she asked with a hint of surprise.
“No, but I saw the film. It was good. I’m looking forward to the next one coming out.”
“Well, the book is a bit more long-winded. Pratchett is easier on his readers, and quite
funny sometimes. Why don’t you try this?” She put a paperback with a bright cartoonish
cover into his hand.
“‘Mort, the fourth Discworld novel,’” he read aloud, “I can’t remember the last time I read
just for fun. Does it matter if this is number four?”
“No, just see how you get on,” she said brightly, “I’ll go for my shower now.”
Ben felt a bit apprehensive as he sunk down into the sofa, but he was committed to giving
this book a go, realising how important reading was to Marcie. As he got stuck in, whilst
hearing her shower running, he realised she had been right. The book was easy to get into
and quite funny in an odd way, but he still felt a bit confused by it.
He heard the bathroom door open and saw Marcie walk into the living room, wrapped just
in a large towel, her shoulders bare, her hair bundled in another towel. The rich colour of
her exposed skin seemed to glow against the brilliant white of the towel. Though she was
revealing nothing more, Ben felt another warm rush of blood to his cheeks at the thought of
her clean body naked underneath.
“Are you doing okay? I’ll just get dressed and dry my hair. I’ll be as quick as I can,” Marcie
said, then she was gone again. Ben’s mind lingered on her though, his imagination
recreating the memory of her standing before him, a feminine vision at ease in her own
space, the poster of the couple kissing hanging behind her. He had distinctly noticed the
smattering of dark freckles or moles across her exposed collarbones, the creases of the
towel under her armpits and the stray wet curls of dark hair escaping her improvised
turban. It had felt somehow intimate to be with her like that, but he reminded himself that
they had only just become friends. He had committed himself to a patient game, given what
she’d just been through, and he would stick to that. Diligently he went back to his book,
trying to focus on it.
He heard the distant whir of a hairdryer coming from Marcie’s bedroom, then a few
minutes later, she appeared in the living room doorway. “That feels better,” she said, “I
decided to put a frock on. And I’ve released the hair!”
Ben felt struck dumb. She was wearing a summer dress with a pale blue pattern, gathered
tight under the bust and flaring loosely over her hips, hanging down to her bare ankles and
feet. Its thin shoulder straps left the thick white straps of her bra visible against her tan
skin, and the low scooped neckline revealed some dramatic cleavage. Ben couldn’t help
dropping his eyes to see this shadowy crease above a line of delicate buttons. He lifted his
gaze quickly to admire the dramatic transformation to Marcie’s hair. Now that it wasn’t
pinned back, its dark brown waves flowed from her central parting down to her shoulders.
He guessed that she had brushed it out as she’d used the hairdryer to give it the impressive
volume that surrounded her head like a soft cloud or a dark halo.
It only took a moment for him to take all this in and come to his senses. An expectant look
seemed to play on Marcie’s face, her eyes twinkling above glossy smiling lips that Ben
realised she’d made up with a subtle shade of lipstick. “You look great, amazing!” he said
lamely. “I feel very scruffy now.”
“I felt like making an effort for our new beginnings, as it were. You’re welcome to use the
shower and get changed too. I picked up a shirt with your clothes, if you wanted to wear
that. How are you getting on with the book?” she asked, sitting down beside him.
“I’m not really sure what’s going on. It started talking about a space turtle, then wine for
fortune tellers, or something. Now I think a farmer is going to trade in his son.”
“Well, Pratchett’s style is a bit silly, but it sounds like you’re getting the gist of it. I’d say
you should stick with it, and the strange internal logic of the setting might settle into place
with the story.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m a slow reader. With a dense book like this, I lose my place on the page.
It’s like the words start jumping about.”
“I wonder if you have a little bit of dyslexia? Well, a simple trick is to put a bookmark under
the line you’re reading, like this.” She’d leapt up to pick up a thin card flyer from the
bookcase, then sat down close to him, their knees touching. She reached over to the book
that was in Ben’s hands, pressing it open while he still held it. She held the bookmark to the
page with her other hand, moving it down as she read a couple of lines aloud, brushing
Ben’s hand as she did so. Ben savoured the close contact as he listened, breathing in the
pleasant scent of her clean hair before he realised he was doing it.
“‘You set him as a prentice, see,’” Marcie quoted in an attempt at a yokel’s accent, “‘And his
new master’ll have the job of knocking him into shape. ‘Tis the law. Get him indentured,
and ‘tis binding.’”
She paused, the said, “Hmm, yes, it is a bit confusing, isn’t it? Well, see how it goes, then we
could pop into the City Library together tomorrow afternoon to look for something else, if
you wanted. But I’d better get started with the cooking now. Do you think you will have
that shower?” she asked as she pulled away from him and stood up.
“Yes, I think I will,” Ben said, closing the book over her bookmark and standing up too. He
hoped Marcie hadn’t asked about the shower because she’d noticed some body odour or
lingering hospital smells when she’d been close to him.
“Great,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen, “We’ll open the wine
when you’re out. How does that sound?” Ben agreed that it sounded good, then took
himself off to the spare room to sort through the clothes that Marcie had packed and to pick
up his toiletries.
Marcie had put an apron on, bundled her hair back with a scrunchie band, got a pan on to
boil and was chopping an onion when he went back through to the kitchen. “Oh, I’m a bit
tied up here. Could you find a towel for yourself in the bottom drawer through there?” she
asked as he squeezed past, blinking a tear from her eye.
“Sure, thanks,” Ben said, shutting himself in. As he pulled open the drawer she’d mentioned,
he was a bit surprised to see an open box of tampons lying next to the bath towels. While he
undressed and started the shower running, he wondered if Marcie had forgotten they were
there when she’d suggested he help himself, or if she really wasn’t bothered about sharing
small intimate details of her life like that with him. Somehow the simple accident of seeing
the toiletries that she used for her period had made Ben realise that he’d already become
involved in a woman’s real life. He remembered the tear on her cheek from the chopped
onions too, and these thoughts made him feel somehow protective of her.
Once under the hot shower, he worked up a lather and washed himself down, then he felt
his penis react to his brisk actions by lengthening comfortably. He thought this was
perhaps unsurprising given his recent close contact with Marcie, especially as she had
suddenly presented herself to him in a far more glamorous, even sexually alluring way. But
again, he reminded himself to be discreet and play the long game in their growing
friendship.
Once he’d finished cleaning and drying himself, he put his deodorant and clothes on, then
hung his towel on the rack with Marcie’s, leaving his toiletries with hers beside the bath. He
bundled up his dirty clothes, opened the door and stepped into the kitchen in his bare feet.
Marcie stood in the kitchen stirring a simmering pan next to some boiling pasta and a pile
of grated cheese. The delicious smell of fried onions, garlic and thickening tomato sauce
suddenly reminded Ben just how hungry he was.
“I’ve done extra,” she explained, “We can have it cold for lunch tomorrow if there’s any left.
Oh, drop those in the laundry basket through there, if you want,” she added, gesturing back
towards the bathroom when she saw his bundle of clothes, “I don’t mind sharing space in
the washing machine. Then you can pour the wine. There’s a white in the fridge.”
Ben found the bottle and two wineglasses, then after checking with Marcie, he cracked the
seal around the screw cap to open the wine. He filled the glasses halfway and offered one to
Marcie.
“Ooh, that’s a big glass! Sorry, I’m not complaining,” she reassured him before raising her
glass, “Well, let me say it formally, Ben. Welcome to my home, I hope you like it here, and I
sincerely wish you get well soon. To your good health!”
“Slàinte mhath!” Ben echoed, the two words of Gaelic that he knew popping to his mind,
“And I hope you’re right, that despite everything, things are taking a positive turn, for both
of us now.”
“Hmm, I didn’t think to ask. Are you really a wine drinker, or would you have preferred
something else?” Marcie asked, once they’d both taken a sip and she’d put her glass down.
“I’m easy, really. I’ll order lager or shots if I’m out, if my mates are, but I drink bitter or
whisky with my dad. And I like to share wine in a restaurant.”
“Do you go out often then, down town, like the Bigg Market or the Quayside I guess?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, watching Marcie as she drained the pasta and brought things
together in a big oven dish. “I meet friends, mates from work too, maybe twice a month at
least. It’s not like when I was younger, when I first moved here. I’d do Friday, Saturday and
Sunday night if I wasn’t working the weekend, every week. The clubs too, old school raves,
trance DJs, you know? Too much booze though, it’s not great for your head, or your wallet.
I’ve learnt, you don’t want to mess about like that if you’re handling a chainsaw the next
day, high in a tree when the wind’s up. This is nice now, a meal and a drink at a friend’s
house.”
“Aw, thanks,” Marcie said, putting the dish in the oven. She took her apron off, then raised
her arms to take her scrunchie out. Ben caught himself looking at her smooth bare skin -
from her raised elbow down past her armpit to the edge of her dress - as she shook out her
huge hair with both hands. But he deliberately shifted his gaze to catch her eyes as she
lifted her glass again and said, “Let’s take these through to the sofa.”
She paused pensively when she sat down, obviously with something still on her mind, “But
can I ask, if you don’t mind, do you meet girls out too? I mean, do you ever walk up to a
woman you don’t know and chat her up? I’m sorry, but this is an unknown world to me,
and I’m curious.”
“Well, yes, it does work that way sometimes. Are you going to ask if I pick up women that
way?” An awful thought crossed his mind, “Do you think I might go out, then bring
someone back here, into your flat, while you’re putting me up? I’d never do that, not in a
million years.”
“No no, that’s not why I asked at all,” Marcie urgently clarified, reaching across to squeeze
his knee. “I guess I’m just curious,” she paused, then added, “And I’m being nosy, about
your past girlfriends, your conquests. You saw Richard, so you know a bit about my history.
I was wondering who’s in your past. It’s very cheeky of me to ask though, you don’t have to
say.”
“It’s okay,” Ben said, leaning back and taking a sip of wine, unsure where to start or what
to say. He wondered why Marcie seemed so curious too, perhaps as if she were already
thinking of herself as more than a friend to him. “Well, you know about Jo. I met her maybe
a month ago, as a friend of a friend, sort of. I guess it was like you said. Erm, we chatted,
then she came home with me. We had a few date nights, but now it’s finished.”
“Have there been lots like her then? Girlfriends who were sort of, well, easy come, easy go. I
guess someone like you has no problem catching their eye, with your blonde curls, piercing
grey eyes and six-pack abs. Holy Mary, you must find them queuing around the block!”
“Aye, maybe,” Ben replied to the question about casual girlfriends, before he realised how
vain he might seem. “I mean I’ve had a few quick relationships, like you say,” Ben paused
again, still unsure where Marcie thoughts were going with her questions, and unsure how
to react to her flattery with modesty but honesty. “Well, maybe not as many as you think. In
all the time since I left school, how many girlfriends? Maybe two dozen, or maybe closer to
three. Do you think I’m a tart?”
Marcie giggled, “No, I just don’t really know anyone else like that, I guess. But you’ve been
in more serious longer-term relationships too, then?”
“Aye, yes. Phoebe would be the one who I got most serious with, I guess. I was what, twenty?
And it lasted around two years. We’d moved in together, when I first got that flat over the
workshop.”
“So why did it finish? Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I’m just too nosy!”
“No, it’s okay. You said earlier, didn’t you? We can be honest with each other. I like that. So,
aye, finishing with Phoebe,” he paused, reappraising things for himself too, “I guess, at the
end of the day, I was just a bit slow. Remember I said I used to go hard at it on a night out?
Perhaps we were both like that when we started. Well, she realised we needed to grow up,
get out of those habits, but I wanted to carry on. I thought I could keep being the boy about
town, but still play house with her too. I can see now why she got fed up with me. Also, to
be honest, there was an incident. She found out I’d had a kiss and a cuddle with someone
else.”
“Just that? You weren’t sleeping with that someone else, then?”
“No, I wouldn’t have done that, even back then! If things aren’t working in a relationship, if
you want to go with someone else, you say it, don’t you? You call it off before you hop into
another bed. There can’t be any trust otherwise, can there? If you’ve betrayed the most
important thing, your intimacy together, what is else is there? What does a relationship
even mean, you know, if it’s not faithful?”
“Not all men think that way,” Marcie said gloomily.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking of you and Richard. I was just trying to be
straight with you. I’m not sure I’ve ever really talked openly about all this, with anyone
else.”
“Hey, there is absolutely no need to apologise. And I’m really glad you’re sharing with me,”
she sighed. “Damn Richard, I definitely made a mistake with that one. But I don’t want to
think about me and him anymore. Do you want a drop more wine?”
She took his glass, filled it in the kitchen, then passed it back to him as she collapsed back
onto the sofa beside him. As he thanked her, Ben once again noticed with pleasure her
woody citrus perfume as her summer dress and her cloud of hair moved the air around him.
Marcie took a sip of wine, seemingly appraising him with a twinkling cheeky look over her
glass, before she pressed on with her next question, “So, Phoebe, Jo, these other girls, would
you say they had anything in common?”
“How do you mean?” Ben asked
“Well, I’m wondering if there is a type, if there is something that you’re drawn to when
you’re looking for a girlfriend. Somehow I imagine them all being tall, sleek, glamorous,
fair-skinned and blonde, like you I guess.”
Ben had begun to guess where Marcie was heading with these questions, but he decided to
play his answers straight, deliberately keeping his tone innocent, “That sounds like Jo, at
least. Phoebe sometimes dyed her hair blonde, and I guess she was quite glamorous too,
with her all her makeup and slinky clothes. But I wouldn’t say I had a type. Why do you
ask?”
Marcie looked straight at him as she obviously considered her answer. He held her gaze,
seeing her tension. But then she sighed, drew a big lungful of air, and launched into what
she wanted to say.
“Well, you’re here in my flat Ben, right now, and it’s just the two of us, and we’re being
honest, right? Okay. So when I saw you in the gym, slipping out of consciousness, your lips
turning blue, I had a strange feeling. Here was a beautiful man, a Norse god, an Anglo-Saxon
hero from legend, huge and masculine, but he was maybe dying in my arms, quite literally.
It felt like it was that serious, that I might genuinely have been comforting you in the very
last moments of your life. I had no idea who you were, and I might never have got to know,
if you hadn’t made it. But you did come through, to my huge relief, and now I have got to
know you. And I’m very glad about that because you seem like a lovely man on the inside as
well as on the outside. You’re polite, honest, interesting, and you’re fun to be with. But
seeing you so poorly, it makes me realise how fragile life is. Did I say it earlier? Life seems
too short to play games now. So, I know I’m moving in very quickly, and it might make
things more awkward between us as friends, as flatmates maybe, but I want to know. Can
you imagine me as your girlfriend? Do you fancy me at all? Because I confess, I fancy you
something rotten. Oh, damn that thing!” she exclaimed as, at that very moment, the oven’s
timer started beeping.
She rushed to the kitchen, slamming her glass down on the table as she passed. In a
moment she had stopped the alarm and rushed back to the sofa. She perched on its edge,
close to Ben, hands folded on her knees, looking with vulnerable entreatment into his eyes,
and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. It must be the wine on an empty stomach. If you say you’re not
interested, I promise I won’t pester you again and we can both try and forget what I just
blurted out.”
Ben put his hand over hers to squeeze them in what he hoped was reassurance, “Marcie,
you must have seen the signs, the way I’ve been looking at you. Of course I’m interested.
You’re a beautiful woman.”
“But…” she prompted.
“Well, we are so different. You are so much cleverer than me,” Marcie made a scoffing
sound at that, but he continued, “And your life is so different from mine, with the university
and the books and the science. And yes, you are different from other girlfriends in my past,
in appearance. But perhaps none of that really matters. And there was something else too,
something that maybe opened my eyes. The staff at the hospital thought we were a couple
already, and I quite liked that. I obviously have big changes ahead. Perhaps being with you
is the good change that will help me with the others. And you’ve been such a huge help
already. But that sounds like I just want you to nurse me, and that’s not what I want at all.”
“What are you saying, Ben? Your words are going one way then the other,” Marcie asked in
anxious confusion.
“I would like you to be my girlfriend, Marcie, but not yet. I want to be kind to you, like
you’ve been to me, and I want to get to know you better, to spend a lot more time with you.
I promise I won’t date anyone else while we’re doing that. But let’s not rush.”
“Thank you, Ben. That is very sensible,” Marcie sighed, leaning back a little. “I wonder if
you’re thinking of what you saw this afternoon with Richard though? Are you worried this
is just a rebound thing for me?”
“I’d not really thought about it,” he admitted. “Do you think it might be?”
“No, I really don’t. My relationship with Richard has been dead from the waist up for more
than a year, if you get what I mean. To be honest, there’s been no life from the waist down
either these last few months. I feel pretty confident that you’re not on the rebound from Jo,
either. You seem pretty chilled about letting that one slip away.”
“Well, you’re not rushing just because of that then. So we can still pace ourselves. If it
works out, then it’s worth waiting for, right?”
“Yes, you’re right. We can say we’re courting, if we want to sound old-fashioned,” Marcie
paused, perhaps thinking more seriously about what that implied, “No, maybe that’s not
right either. We can be friends who spend a lot of time together, okay? Go for walks in
Jesmond Dene, go the library, go to the doctor’s together even, have drinks and meals, see
films - enjoying the spring together, and perhaps the summer too. Does that sound good to
you?”
“It sounds very good to me,” he agreed.
“Great. Come on, let’s eat before my cooking goes to ruin, if you don’t think it’s a lost cause
already!” Marcie started rising from the sofa, but then twisted round on one knee to face
Ben. He raised his face to hers as she loomed over him, anticipating what seemed to be
coming. Indeed, she did lower her lips to his, but she just planted the smallest peck of a kiss
before she pushed herself back onto her feet.
“Do you think you could find a CD to put on, and turn the lamps on too?” she asked casually
as she turned toward the kitchen, almost as if nothing had passed between them.
Chapter 6
As she disappeared into the kitchen, Ben rose from the sofa too, feeling a happy glow in his
excitement at what had just happened. Yet he tried to remain calm and not grin like an idiot
as he switched on the old-fashioned standard lamp in the corner, then one with a coloured
glass shade on the table, before sinking onto his knees before the stereo. As his eyes
wandered over the equipment’s controls and the CD shelf, his mind lingered on that kiss.
Though it had only lasted a moment, it had made his heart race. His mind recreated the
brief sensation of Marcie’s soft lips on his, as well as the warm sense of her being so close,
filling his world with the fragrance of her perfume and clean hair. Despite everything
they’d said, he wished that she had lingered longer, that they had kissed deeply, like true
lovers, perhaps even like those in the golden image hanging over him.
Acting a little numbly, he ejected the disc that had been playing earlier, read its name, and
looked for another that matched. He identified one other CD by the same artist, and he put
it on, adjusting the large volume dial slightly. He turned to see Marcie coming from the
kitchen with a bubbling dish in her oven-gloved hands. The rich aroma made his mouth
water, making him realise just how empty his stomach felt.
“Do you want to top up our wine? You could fill a couple of glasses of water for us too while
I get the bowls.”
As they moved around each other in the doorway and the narrow kitchen, Ben felt he’d
become even more conscious of how close he came to Marcie’s body in her elegant dress.
But they’d soon settled at the table, as Marcie offered to serve.
“Do you like Portishead, then?” she asked, perhaps noticing the music.
“I’ve heard them, I guess,” Ben confessed, “But I don’t really know them.”
“So what sort of music do you like? Hmm, cheers!” she added raising her glass, adding, “Do
tuck in,” when she realised that Ben had waited until she’d served herself before starting.
Ben took a hot mouthful cautiously, chewing before he explained, “Well, I just listen to
mixes mainly, you know, ravey stuff, things with titles like Trance Anthems or Euphoria.
It’s good to have on when you’re busy, but not so good for a nice dinner for two. This is
really delicious by the way.”
“Thank you. You’ll have to take me to a proper rave sometime.”
“Sure, but like I said, I don’t hit that scene so hard these days. I wouldn’t want to collapse
again either. You need some stamina to dance, if you’re not on pills.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of that. Are you into anything else?”
“Well, I went through a metal phase,” Ben answered sheepishly.
“Cool! What sort of stuff?”
“Well, I started with Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Bolt Thrower, things like that when I was
at school. Then I got into more extreme black metal, Celtic Frost, Rotting Christ, Dimmu
Borgir, stuff out of Norway.”
“I recognised the first two names, but I’ve not heard of any of the others. Rotting Christ?
Seriously?”
“They’re good, honestly! But some of it is pantomime stuff, in a way, performing in corpse
paint with upside-down crosses, just trying to shock kids’ parents. My brother was more
into it than me.”
“He’s older than you then? Are you close?”
“Aye, Adam’s five years older. I must have been that annoying kid brother. He joined the
Navy when he left school, and I played his tapes when he was away. He’s in the merchant
navy now, somewhere out in the North Sea as we speak, I think. I guess we’re a bit closer
now than we were, before Mum died, but still not really close.”
“I feel sympathy for you with that, sincerely, you must know. Can I ask, how did she go?”
“It was cancer, in her pancreas. She was diagnosed late, I guess. There wasn’t much they
could do except keep her comfortable towards the end. But you lost your dad too, right?”
“Yes, it was a big shock. He travelled quite a bit, negotiating sales in the textiles business. It
was a Manchester company that had made the shift from the local mills to partnerships
with manufacturers in India. Anyway, he’d flown out there and, well, I guess he’d got DVT
on the flight, you know, a blood clot. He had a heart attack out there. My mum and I had
expected him to be driving back from the airport in two days. Instead he came back in a box,
a month later.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, realising how upset Marcie had become by remembering this. “Let
me get you a tissue.” He leapt to his feet, finding the box she’d used earlier and bringing it
to the table.
She thanked him, took one, blew her nose and dabbed her eyes. He reached for her hand
and she took it. “Oh, I’m sorry. It all happened nearly ten years ago, no, just over ten years.
I’m fine really, it’s just that it’s still a bit sad, maybe especially on top of hearing about your
mum too.” She squeezed his hand but then released it, “But don’t mind me. Keep eating.
Help yourself to more.”
Ben did, asking, “But your mother took it hard too, you said? You stayed with her when you
went to university, right?”
“Oh yes, I learnt all about the stages of grief with her. Anger, denial, depression, going
around it over and over again in thunderous circles. Her parents or just her mum would
come over from Malta to stay with us for a bit, but often that didn’t make things any
easier.”
“That’s your Nanna who gave you the necklace? I still have it. I should give it back.”
“No! Keep wearing it for the time being. It’s helping you get well, remember. But no, that’s
my father’s mother. I’m much closer to her. My mum’s parents, well, they’ve got a big
family still in Malta, lots of grandkids. I don’t know if that made my mum feel more isolated,
or if she’d have taken it hard anyway. She would tell you it was her cats that helped her
through it in the end.”
“Her cats?”
“Yes, she’s the original mad old cat lady now. Six of them in the house, I think, and she puts
a lot of time into the Cats Protection League too, working in their shop, running their
fundraisers, that sort of thing.”
“She didn’t think of moving back to Malta herself then?”
“No. I guess my parents were kind of committed to life in the UK from even before I was
born. Do you know how it is? You see it in the first generation from India, Pakistan or
Jamaica too, I think. They want to be so British, they pick up all the habits and mannerisms
that seem almost old-fashioned to the real natives. I learnt Maltese as I was growing up, but
we spoke English at home all the time.”
“I don’t know much about Malta,” Ben confessed. “I’d struggle to find it on a map, though
I’ve been to the Med, to Majorca and some of the Greek islands.”
“Well, let me show you!” Marcie said enthusiastically, jumping to her feet to pull what was
evidently an atlas from the bookcase. “Keep eating,” she encouraged him as she found the
page, “Finish it off if you want.” Ben thanked her and scooped the last of the pasta bake into
his bowl. She pushed the open map towards him, her index finger on a small speck in the
centre of the Mediterranean.
“There, you can just see Valletta, where my grandparents are from. Their families vaguely
knew each other, and they got my parents to look each other up when they found out
they’d both emigrated to Manchester. There was quite a wave of migration to the UK, after
the war you know.”
“I don’t know, really. I didn’t pay much attention in history lessons. I found it boring once it
stopped being about drawing Viking boats.”
Marcie laughed lightly with him, then explained. “Malta’s stuck in the middle, you see,
between all the great European powers, and North Africa and the Turks too. That cross
you’re wearing comes from the crusaders, or at least the knights who fought the Muslim
Ottomans. The British had come out on top after Napoleon, and they really wanted to keep
it from the Nazis. In the middle of the war it had the crap beaten out of it by German and
Italian bombers, and my grandparents somehow lived through all that. It didn’t become
independent of the UK until the sixties, after my parents had left.”
“I never knew any of that,” Ben admitted.
“Why would you? It’s just a dot on the map, as you can see.”
“But you don’t feel as if you come from there at all, I mean, having lived your whole life in
Britain?”
“No, I’m from Manchester, no question.”
“You don’t sound as if you are,” Ben risked saying.
She laughed lightly, “Blame my parents! Like I said, they wanted to be so English, I’m sure
they practised their ‘Received Pronunciation’, their post-war radio announcer voices, when
I was young, once I was in bed. And I went to quite a posh school too, Manchester Grammar.
But maybe having Maltese roots is like a secret piece of jewellery that I know I’ve got safe
in a box somewhere, like the pendant you’re borrowing, but on the inside.”
“Would you let me hear you speak Maltese sometime?” he asked.
“Mhux problema! If you’re here when Nanna’s on the phone, you’ll hear me going at it full
speed. But you said something in Gaelic earlier, didn’t you? Do you speak that?”
“Those are the only two words I know,” he confessed, “From nights out in Glasgow and
Edinburgh. I learnt a bit of Danish, though, on a training ship.”
“Hey, you mentioned you’d been on ships and boats. Was that like a Navy thing?”
“No, it was a tall ship, with the masts and everything. I applied for an Atlantic trip, and they
let me join.”
“You crossed the Atlantic?” Marcie asked in surprise.
“Aye, from Copenhagen to Halifax, Nova Scotia.”
“How long did that take?”
“About four weeks.”
“Wow. And that was long enough to learn Danish?”
“No, not really. I only know a few phrases. Thank you. Where’s the food. Tie that shitting
sail down. Do you have a condom.”
Marcie laughed, covering her mouth. “Mother of God! You had sex on a sailing ship?”
“It not very glamorous. There was almost no privacy, so you had to be quick, and nowhere
was very comfortable.”
“Still, it sounds romantic. I’ve never done anything anywhere near as exciting. What was
her name?”
“Birgitte,” Ben answered her, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable about explaining what
had indeed been a bit of a rushed romance all around.
But Marcie had moved on, perhaps picking up on his discomfort, “And ‘Tie the shitting sail
down,’ I like that! It’s funny how different cultures have their different swear words. On
the Mediterranean - Spanish, Italian, Maltese and so on - a lot of them are religious, Holy
Mary or ‘Marelli’ in Malta, ‘hostia’ for body of Christ in Spain and so on. Here it’s mostly
about sex, with the F word or the C word having a kind of taboo power. But it seems to me
there’s a pattern to northern European expletives in that they’re all about bodily functions,
like the way German’s use ‘Mist’ for crap, or their ‘Leck mich am Arsch’.”
“‘Lick my arse’ could be sexual too,” Ben observed, making a confident guess at a
translation.
Marcie blushed, even as she laughed, “I can’t believe you said that!”
“You started it,” Ben teased, “But you know those other languages too, then?”
“Yes, a bit. Perhaps I find it easy because I was raised to be bilingual, but I did well at
French and German at school, then I learn Spanish and Italian at the university language
school. You could do little bonus courses as an undergraduate, and they’re quite similar to
each other anyway. I could probably still get by in all of those. Sorry, I’m not trying to
sound boastful, but you asked, and that’s the truth. Look, shall we tidy these dishes? You
did well, finishing all that pasta.”
“You should be proud of it, of your languages I meant. But be proud of your cooking too.
That was delicious.”
“Oh, it’s not much. You were probably just hungry after everything you’ve been through. I
wonder though, I might have to scale up my ideas about portion size if we’re going to cook
for each other regularly. How tall are you really?” she asked as she piled the dishes in the
sink
“Six foot three,” Ben answered, “And I’ll do the washing up.”
“That’s almost a foot taller than me. No wonder I feel short next to you. And thanks. I’ll dry.
So how much do you weigh, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Just over fourteen stone, I think.”
“Goodness! It must be all muscle, you don’t seem to be carrying any flab. But that’s nearly
fifty percent more than me. I can see I will have to scale up the food in the flat.”
“Well, if I’m not swinging chainsaws and logs around now, and not pounding the kit in the
gym, I’d better be careful, cut back on my calories.”
“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll work it out. Wait to see the doctor, then we can worry about your
new normal for diet and exercise. I’m sure there’s lots we can do, if we’re careful.”
Ben had noticed how often Marcie was using the word ‘we’, and it reassured him. He also
could not help himself from wondering, as he passed the hot wet plates into Marcie’s tea-
towel wrapped hands, whether she was deliberately making a double entendre. The first
thing that had come to his mind when she’d mentioned doing exercise together carefully
was sex. Despite what they’d said before dinner, he thought their conversation over the
meal had got quite suggestive at times, as if they’d both been flirting.
“Thank you for doing that,” Marcie said as he finished the washing up by draining the water
away and wiping around the sink, “And thank you for sharing the wine with me, for being
such good company, even after I’d got all heavy with you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Ben said, feeling embarrassed, leaning against the kitchen
top, “It’s been a lovely evening. I’m glad we can be honest together, like we said.” He
paused, but he knew that he was committed to saying more, “And you know, this has felt
like a date, a first date for us, even though we didn’t go out, and I think it went very well. So,
would you like to meet up again sometime soon?”
“Yes I would! We must do this again. You’ve still got my number, right?” she replied,
playing along with him, a dreamy smile on her lips, shaking out her hair again after she’d
hung the tea-towel up. “I’m afraid all the wine’s gone, and I’m on first shift again tomorrow
morning, so I won’t move onto spirits now. Do help yourself though, if you’d like. But what
would you normally do, if you got home on your own in an evening after a date?”
“I’d probably go straight to bed,” he said, deliberately not mentioning what he’d do instead
of going to sleep if it had been a good date, “But it’s not that late really, is it?”
“No, but you said you were tired earlier. You must be dropping by now. I’d normally have a
cup of tea and read on the sofa, not that I’d have been on a date, just after I’d eaten my tea I
mean. Do you want to join me, to relax before turning in early?”
“That sounds good,” Ben agreed.
“Good,” she echoed, then asked, “Could I ask you to just drop the blind through there while
I boil the kettle? I’ll bring the mugs through in a moment.”
Ben did as she’d asked, shutting out the growing darkness. The room looked even cosier in
just the yellow lamplight. He started looking for his book, then realised the music had
stopped a while ago. He called out to ask Marcie if she wanted another CD on, and she
suggested Massive Attack because they were a bit like Portishead. Once he’d sorted that, he
sat down on the sofa with his new book, but just listened to the singer’s lyrics as they
started, “This girl I know, needs some shelter. She don’t believe anyone can help her.” He
thought of Marcie, and hoped he hadn’t chosen something that would make her feel sad
again.
She came through a moment later with two mugs of tea, holding one out for him to take.
“Milk, one sugar. I remembered,” she said. She asked if he’d mind if she burnt an incense
stick, just to clear the cooking smells. She seemed a little anxious about his lungs, but Ben
was confident it wouldn’t be a problem. It seemed there was a packet of joss sticks and a
lighter on the bookcase, as well as a curved bit of wood to hold the incense up at an angle
once Marcie had lit it. She blew on its glowing end to check it was burning well, then she
picked up a book for herself that had been lying on its side on the bookshelf, something
with a tiger in a small boat on the front, Ben noticed. But when she sat down and saw he’d
not opened his book, she asked, “Are you not reading after all?”
Ben looked at the book in his hands, feeling foolish. “Marcie, I hope you don’t mind, but I
was thinking of asking you for something, on top of everything else you’ve done and given.
I’m being selfish.”
“Just ask, for goodness’ sake!”
“You know I’m a slow reader. I’d like to give this book a real go, and I’m glad you showed
me how to use the bookmark, but it’s still intimidating, I guess. I really liked it when you
read a bit aloud to me. Could you read a bit more like that, do you think?”
“Oh Ben,” she exclaimed with sympathy, “Of course I could! I don’t think I’ve got a very
good reading voice. It’s not something I’ve practised at all, but I’d love to give it a go for
you, if you’re patient with my shortcomings.”
“I’m sure it won’t be like that,” he reassured her, feeling relief as well as warm anticipation
as he passed the book into her hands.
“Let me get comfy,” she said, stuffing a cushion behind her and moving the table lamp so
that it cast more light onto the sofa. Then, fidgeting, she said, “Actually, let’s try it like this,”
shifting around sideways, putting her legs up on the sofa across Ben’s lap, much to his
surprise. He gingerly rested a hand on her knee, his hand sinking into the folds of her
dress’s soft cotton. This seemed innocent enough to him, even though he could feel the
firmness and warmth of her leg through the fabric under his fingertips, as she found his
place and began reading.
They followed the story together as Mort’s father tried to find him a new apprenticeship.
Ben wondered about his own life, and what his own new occupation might be. When
Marcie read aloud that carpentry didn’t sound very promising, she looked up at Ben with
anxiety in her eyes, perhaps thinking along the same lines. But he made a light joke of it,
saying, “I can agree with him there.”
Marcie kept reading, and almost without realising it, Ben found his hand was making small
stroking movements, rubbing her skirts against her firm thigh. It felt somehow comforting,
and she didn’t seem to mind as she continued reading without a pause, so he carried on. As
the story unwound, the character of Death made his first appearance. Marcie tried to voice
his words in a deeper tone, stopping briefly to show him the book. “It’s always in capitals
when he speaks, you see. I think it’s like everything he says is carved on tombstones. He’s
Death, you know,” explaining it to him because the author hadn’t yet, before she carried on.
Ben had finished his tea now. Once he’d put the mug down on the floor by his feet, he
risked resting his hand on the bare skin of Marcie’s ankle. Again, she gave no outward
reaction to this as she went on reading, so he let it rest there for a while. However, before
long his fingertips were stroking her skin with tiny movements, even whilst his other hand
still rubbed against her thighs. He felt how smooth the skin of her shin was, despite the
tiniest hints of roughness from the shaved hairs growing out. He kept listening to the story
as Death spoke to Mort and the boy got ready to leave his father.
Suddenly, as his fingers reached a little further around her calf, Marcie wriggled her legs
vigorously, interrupting the story to softly exclaim, “Oh, that tickles too much!” She kicked
her legs out, forcing Ben to lift his hands, then turned around on the sofa, tucking her feet
under her so that she rested against his side. Ben let himself respond naturally by putting
his arm around her shoulders, as she buried her head against his, brushing his cheek and
chin with her fragrant hair. Ben leant against her, putting his hand on her knee again just
beside the book that was still open in her hands.
“Did you want me to carry on?” Marcie asked, with a mocking hint of frustration, “Have you
even been paying attention?”
“Oh yes,” Ben reassured her. “I don’t know why, but I like Death. I would go and work for
him if it was me.”
“I think he’s meant to be likeable. He’s one of the most popular characters in Pratchett’s
books, I think, and there are dozens in the series.”
“This might be a bit heavy again, but it seems… I don’t know. It seems like it wouldn’t be
so bad, if someone like that visited you at the end.”
“Oh Ben, I know just what you mean,” Marcie said, nestling herself more deeply against him.
To his surprise, she seemed to be suddenly on the edge of tears again, sniffing and urgently
closing the book to dab at her eyes. To his even greater surprise, he found his own eyes
smarting too. He wondered if their earlier discussion about losing a parent each had made
their grief raw again.
“I didn’t see anyone like that waiting though, when I fell over the gym,” he said, trying to
make a joke of it, but he knew that sadness had come through in his voice too. It was as if
he’d suddenly realised how vulnerable he had really been, and still was, and how much of a
chancy thing it was that Marcie had been there at the right moment to rescue him.
Marcie reactions to his words were immediate. She twisted around, losing the book in the
folds of her dress, swinging her arm around him. He was pushed back as he brought both
his arms around her shoulders now. She gripped him around the chest, burying her head
against his neck, casting her glasses away in frustration, softly sobbing. Ben could feel the
wetness from her eyes, or maybe her nose, on his skin. It somehow felt intimate, setting his
heart pounding as Marcie’s body shook in his arms. He breathed steadily as they kept
hugging each other tightly, bearing her weight on his ribs, but feeling no breathlessness.
Eventually Marcie raised her head, looking into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I must look a fright.
What a mess I’m in! I just didn’t want you to die,” she admitted shyly, finishing almost in a
whisper.
Her eyes were indeed red, and her nose too, but it was the first time that Ben had seen her
without her glasses. He saw how her long thick eyelashes sparkled with tears and felt
nothing but deep sympathy for her, along with an overwhelming urge to comfort her.
Without thinking, he bent his neck forwards to kiss her forehead. But Marcie was pushing
her face up higher towards him with eager entreatment. He understood what she expected,
and stretched down to bring his lips to hers.
They were already wet from her salty tears, or her runny nose, but Ben didn’t mind. And
they were also softly parted, so he let his tongue brush them, feeling excitement rise within
him. Marcie responded in kind, now almost crawling on top of him as he sunk lower on the
sofa. Her soft mouth was making a kind of snapping, chewing movement, and she was
hungrily pushing her tongue into his mouth now. Ben savoured it all, lifting his hands to the
back of her neck, running his fingers through her thick hair.
Marcie’s hands were suddenly down around his waist, trying to pull his shirt up over his
head. Ben wriggled beneath her, assisting her as their kissing broke off momentarily. He
felt himself grinning uncontrollably at her as she looked with pleading in her heavy-lidded
deep brown eyes, still red-rimmed, her mouth parted and her wine-scented breath blowing
across his face.
He had managed to get a few key buttons undone on his shirt, and now he lifted it off.
Marcie buried her face against his neck again as he disentangled his arms and lay back, but
now she was moving lower, kissing his clavicles, his pectorals, his sternum and his belly.
The tingling sensations of her gentle lips on his naked torso were delicious, but he put his
hands under her armpits, feeling a warm slippery moistness there, pulling her up so that he
could kiss her again.
Once more they had their arms around each other, hugging each other as they kissed
passionately, tongues and lips slipping around, messily bumping their cheeks and noses
against each other. But now Ben was acutely aware of Marcie’s hands on his bare skin, and
the soft cushions of her breasts pressing against his chest through the warm cotton of her
dress. He felt her rake her fingernails down his side, and suddenly he was aware that he
was not only erect, but achingly hard beneath his jeans.
He urgently squeezed his hands between their chests, pushing past the bare skin of
Marcie’s breasts where they were exposed by her low-cut dress, feeling for the buttons
beneath the crease of her cleavage.
“There’s a zip down the back,” Marcie whispered in his ear even as he struggled in
sensitive excitement, and with that Ben realised she was not only giving him permission,
but enthusiastically encouraging him to continue.
He found the zip and pulled it down. She pushed herself up, bracing herself against one arm
and then the other, pulling off the shoulder straps of the dress. Breathing heavily but
comfortably, Ben saw her reveal her white bra, its straps low and wide in the balcony style,
a thick band of lace trim revealing hints of Marcie’s tan skin beneath. Her breasts hung
heavily toward his own bare chest, seemingly almost ready to escape completely as they
swung with her movements. He found the sight of Marcie like this profoundly arousing,
with so much more of the mole-flecked expanse of her chest and deep cleavage revealed.
He only had a moment to take all this in, though, as she quickly disentangled her arms and
lay back down on top of him once more.
They simply held each other close now, cheeks brushing, Ben’s nose sinking into the
fragrant cloud of Marcie’s hair as he tried to breathe calmly. But suddenly there was a
muffled bang from above. They both started, and Marcie murmured, “Shona or Ali must
have dropped something.” But the sound had somehow brought Ben back to the reality of
their situation.
“Marcie, I’m sorry. I don’t know if we can carry on.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, lifting her head to look anxiously into his eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, you must be able to see that. It’s what we said earlier, and my
lungs too.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, was I squashing you?” Marcie was wriggling around now, and in a moment
they were sat side by side on the sofa again.
“No, it’s not that. But I think we both knew where we were heading.” Ben could not help
himself from looking at Marcie’s impressive bust, beautifully held by her elegant bra.
“What do you mean?” Marcie repeated, but she had recovered her glasses and was putting
her arms back through her dress’s straps to cover herself now. Perhaps she was
embarrassed, Ben thought anxiously, or perhaps she had recognised that he had already
backed out of their intimacy by using the word “were”.
“To say it honestly, we were beginning to make love. What we’d started, I think we both
wanted it to end with sex. I would really like that, you must believe me. But the doctors in
the hospital said I mustn’t get out of breath.”
“We could go slowly,” Marcie said in a hopeful tone, and Ben was deeply reassured. Not
only had he been right that they had wanted the same thing, but Marcie was still keen to go
through with it.
“It’s not just that,” he began confessing, “You know I said earlier that we should give
ourselves time, that we should pace ourselves. Well, part of that is about what I promised
Shona too. She knows you’ve not been treated well by men, by Richard. She didn’t want me
to take advantage of you, I think. I promised to her, and to myself, I won’t do that. I want to
be kind, to be the gentleman. I don’t want to push it, you know. I don’t want you to think
I’m putting pressure on you, to get you into bed,” he finished guiltily.
“Oh, bollocks to Shona!” Marcie quietly cursed in frustration. “I know we’ve only just met
really, but from what you said earlier too, you must have got into bed with other women
who you’ve just met. Holy Mary, I already feel we know each other really well, that we’re
close.”
“Yes, but perhaps that’s it. It would be different with you.”
“What are you saying, Ben?”
“It feels like it wouldn’t just be a physical thing with you. I’m massively attracted to you,
obviously. But again, to be honest with you, and myself, it’s like this,” he took a deep breath
before pressing on, “I think it’s love, Marcie. I think I’m falling in love with you. And I think
we’re falling in love together. If we made love, it would be for real. It wouldn’t just be a bit
of fun. It would bind our paths together, our unknown future paths.”
Ben had rambled on because Marcie had been silent. He’d seen that her eyes were
glistening again, and now she gave a kind of choking sob. “Oh Ben! Thank you for saying
that. I’m so sorry, I’m crying again.” She pulled a tissue from a pocket in her dress where
she’d stashed it earlier and blew her nose. “But I’m so happy. Oh, I think you’re right, but
it’s crazy! We mustn’t rush, just like you said. We need patience.”
Ben held out his arm, and she nestled up against him again, putting her arms around his
bare chest. “It’s all good, then,” he said, cherishing the sensation of her warm pressure
against him, “We can enjoy taking our time, courting, as you said, wherever that leads. And
tonight I can sleep on your camp bed, just a friend staying over, like you so kindly offered.”
“Oh, I’ve been so selfish!” Marcie berated herself, pulling back again, resting her small hand
on Ben’s cheek as she looked sympathetically into his eyes, “You said you were tired earlier.
You must be on your knees by now. Why don’t you get ready for bed straight away? I won’t
keep making demands of you.”
Ben still thought of protesting, but instead he simply said, “Thank you, for everything. It’s
been a magical evening. And tomorrow, you’re working in the morning, right? But the
afternoon can be our first adventure together, to the Dene maybe, our first nice adventure
out, that is.”
“Yes,” Marcie agreed simply, then leant forwards to give him a little kiss on his lips, just as
she’d done before they’d eaten, before pulling away to let Ben stand up.
He went to pick up his toothbrush and toothpaste from the spare room, turning the lamp
on and dropping the blind in there too. Marcie, straightening the throw on the sofa, gave
him a shy smile that might have been a bit sad as he passed her on his way to the bathroom.
When he came out, after emptying his bladder and washing his face as well as brushing his
teeth, Marcie was putting their mugs in the kitchen sink. He put his hand on her shoulder
and she turned to give him a hug, burying her cheek against his collarbone. It was just a
quick squeeze, though. As she let him go, she asked if he wanted a glass of water, then
poured it for him, before saying shyly, “Good night. Sleep well,” as she handed it over.
Chapter 7
Ben wished good night to Marcie too, then went to his room and closed the door. As he
undressed and put on the ersatz pyjamas that he’d worn in the hospital, he thought of
everything that had just happened. He felt sad to be leaving Marcie on her own, but
rationally he knew it was the right thing to do. He turned off the lamp and stretched out
under the soft duvet, relishing its clean laundry smell as he willed himself to relax.
Marcie had been right. After the drama of yesterday and the night in hospital, he very much
needed a restful sleep now. He had felt deeply weary when they had returned from his flat,
and then the wine and good food had made him even drowsier. Yet the powerful
stimulation of her company had kept him going with energetic enthusiasm. Now it seems
those reserves were drained too, leaving him so tired that his bones seemed to ache with it.
Yet still sleep would not come. He lay on his back comfortably, despite the flimsy bed,
listening to Marcie moving around, then noticing the lights click off as silence fell. He
wondered if the unfamiliar constriction of the clothes he was wearing in bed wasn’t
helping, so he slipped them off.
He breathed slowly and steadily, but his mind would not stop playing back everything that
had happened over the last day and a half. His thoughts eventually settled on Marcie herself,
and how it had felt to be so close to her on the sofa, cuddling and kissing. He thought of her
hair and her breasts as, unbidden, his erection came back firmly. The thought of
masturbating crossed his mind, but he deliberately moved his hands away from his crotch,
thinking of the shame he would feel if he spilt semen on Marcie’s clean bedsheets.
Suddenly he heard a noise at the door. The handle was being turned and there was a small
click as it was pushed open. “Marcie?” he asked quietly of the darkness.
The door opened and he just make out her shadowy figure squeezing into the room beside
his bed. “Ben, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing the door to before sinking to her knees
beside his pillows. Ben could just make out that she was wearing long pyjamas, and she
seemed to have tied her hair back again. He could see her wide eyes in the gloom but
couldn’t make out her glasses, but then realised that she was not wearing them. “I’m
sorry,” she repeated, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to check,” she paused, “To
check you were safe.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep,” he murmured in a low voice.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” she said quietly, still on her knees beside him, “I’m glad, well, I’m
glad you’re breathing. That’s not all though. I didn’t just come through to check you were
okay,” she admitted, but then drew a deep breath herself before going on, “Ben, I’ve got to
say it, I think we’re making a mistake.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, anxiously wondering if she was having second thoughts
about letting him stay over. But felt his anxiety evaporate as she raised her hand to his
cheek, stroking his ear.
“About waiting,” she explained, “I’ve been thinking hard, and it’s just been getting clearer
and clearer to me. It’s a mistake to wait when we both know what’s happening,” she
paused, drawing another deep breath as if finding the courage to leap over the brink. Then
she went on, “I asked you before with words, with my mind as it were, when I wanted to
know if you’d like to be my boyfriend. Then I think I asked you again with my body, when
we kissed on the sofa. Now I’m asking for the third time, with my heart, my soul, my very
being it feels like. Come to me. Be with me. It is the right thing for us to do. Come to my bed.
I know we can’t have sex yet, because of your poorly lungs, but just sleep with me, in truth.
Forget that this is happening so fast, forget the crazy things that have brought us together
right now, forget the uncertain future, forget everything else. Come to bed with me. Just say
yes now.”
Ben found he’d reacted without thinking, pushing the duvet aside and swinging himself
toward the floor. He fell out of the rickety bed onto his knees beside her, finding her elbow
with his hand. “Yes,” he said as they leant towards each other. Their lips touched, gently
brushing each other. Ben squeezed her elbow and they rose to their feet together, Marcie
slipping her hand into his.
He guessed that despite the darkness, Marcie would be able to see that he was naked. He
self-consciously wondered if she could see his penis too, long and engorged, hanging down
between the two of them. He guessed they had passed the stage of polite shy modesty with
each other now, though. Then he realised that perhaps she did understand his aroused
state when she placed her free hand gently on his chest and said, “Oh Ben, I didn’t mean to
get you all revved up again. You need your sleep. Come on. Bring your pillows too.”
Still gripping Ben’s big hand as he grasped the pillows from the camp bed with his free
hand, Marcie awkwardly used her own free hand to open the door in the narrow space with
an apologetic giggle, then led him out. There was some light in the corridor, spilling in from
the street through the panel above the door, but Marcie’s own room was in deep darkness.
Ben noticed a faint lived-in fragrance to her bedroom though, which he guessed was a
blend of faded perfume, worn clothes, old bedsheets, hair conditioner, skin creams and so
on. This melange of Marcie’s normal life that he could perceive only subtly somehow made
him feel honoured and privileged to be here, in the heart of her nest as it were, sharing a
close intimacy with her just by being at the epicentre of her day-to-day routine.
Marcie did not pause though as she led him to the blocky shadow of her bed. Guided as
much by the sounds of her rustling duvet as the vague impression of her position in the
darkness, Ben found the edge of the mattress that Marcie had already climbed onto. He
kept his soft grip on her hand as he dropped his fistful of pillows somewhere near the head
of the bed, letting himself be pulled in towards her. She was lying on one side on the far
side of the bed now, wriggling to get comfortable on her own pillows as she faced him,
gripping his hand. Ben wanted to cuddle her, so he released her then pushed himself
against her as he lay down, feeling the brushed cotton of her pyjamas on his chest and
thighs as she pulled the duvet over them. Then they put their arms around each other,
finding each other’s lips in the darkness, kissing slowly, Marcie’s mouth only fractionally
ajar.
Ben was aware of the pressure of Marcie’s breasts against his chest, warm and soft under
her pyjamas. His penis was firmly erect now, and when she threw her leg across his hip, he
felt it become tangled in the warm fabric between her thighs. Then he realised that they
had both started pressing and grinding against each other, seemingly led by passionate
instinct alone, Marcie as eager as he was to simulate the motions of true sexual intercourse.
He was aware of how stimulated he felt by rubbing the sensitive head of his wooden
erection against the friction of her pyjama’s cloth, now that his foreskin had peeled back.
But then the animation of Marcie’s hips and her kissing stilled.
She sighed, raising her hand to the side of his face, stroking his cheek tenderly, even as he
still pressed against her, panting. She said, “Oh, I so want to carry on, but I’m being selfish.
You need to sleep, and to take care of your lungs. I must leave you in peace.”
Ben could see the sense in what she said. Even though he was quite prepared to take the
risk of getting utterly breathless by making love, it would be very embarrassing to end up
back in the RVI. He would not be able to forgive himself if Marcie had to call an ambulance
for him again now. He found himself saying, “Okay. You’re right.”
Marcie gave him one last peck on his lips, then snuggled down in the bed as Ben backed off
from her and quickly rummaged around with his hand to restore his foreskin over his glans.
They came to rest spooning, her lying with her back to him, him resting his hips against her
buttocks, one arm around her, his hand limp and still as it cupped her breast, tucked
against the sheet. He nuzzled against the back of her neck. He realised now that she’d put
her hair in a plait to sleep, but the small feathery hairs that had escaped still tickled his
nose. Slowly, as he calmed down, he found a deepening sense of relaxation, breathing in the
scent of her and feeling the weight of his head on her pillow.
His arousal ebbed as he drifted at the edge of sleep, but it didn’t leave him completely. He
remained excited to be so close to Marcie. He would suddenly remember where his hand
was, becoming aware again of the soft warmth of her breast through the fabric under his
fingertips. Or she would twitch, making her buttocks jerk pleasingly against his penis. Or he
would simply hear her sigh, or he would find himself deeply breathing in the fragrance of
her skin and hair again. And so in this way his arousal would return, his manhood growing
and becoming hard again, before subsiding once more in its slow waves.
He knew that Marcie must be able to feel him poking against her. He had risen to a rigidity
that pressed into her yielding buttocks for perhaps the fourth time when she gave up the
pretence of trying to sleep. “Hmm, it’s not calming down, is it?” she murmured, placing her
hand over his at her breast and slowly wriggling her hips against him, stimulating his penis
deliberately with her bum. “Do you need to let it out?”
“How do you mean?” Ben asked quietly in the darkness, trying to keep the eager
excitement at what he suspected she was suggesting from his voice.
“Do you need to come?” she asked pragmatically as she rolled over in the bed. Then, lying
so that her face was almost brushing his, without waiting for him to answer, she went on,
“If you ejaculated, perhaps it would help you get off to sleep properly. I don’t mind. I’d like
to help,” she concluded, again tenderly stroking his cheek.
Ben gave her a peck on her mouth as a tiny token of his immense gratitude, pressing their
lips together gently before answering drowsily, “I would like that very much.”
“So may I touch you now?” Marcie asked, unnecessarily Ben felt.
“Of course,” he replied, luxuriating in the pleasure of his firm arousal, feeling free to
honestly express it now.
She ran her fingertips from his cheek, down his neck and chest, under the duvet and under
his arm, which was still thrown lazily across her body, right down his belly to his crotch. He
felt a shiver of delight as she found his manhood, wrapping her hand gently around it near
the base of its shaft.
“That’s you, then,” she purred, slyly admitting, “It’s nice, having you in my hand.” As she
held him, he felt himself grow still harder. Without any help except the rising tumidity, his
head pushed itself free of his foreskin again with an exquisite sensation. But Marcie still
simply gripped him, her hand motionless as she went on, “I’m sorry if this won’t be
everything we might have hoped for. It feels as if our first true intimacy should be epic, a
wildly physical gymnastic session, swinging from the chandeliers in our passionate
enthusiasm!”
She had let go of him briefly to push the duvet back and prop herself up a little. Now she
held him upright again, massaging his shaft very slowly. Though she was lying on top of one
arm, she had managed to reach his belly with the fingertips of her other hand to stroke him
there too. “But I know the risk to those lungs,” she went on, “So if all I can do is a simple
hand job while you stay as relaxed and calm as you possibly can, I want to make it nice.
Would you like me to get undressed too?”
“Aye, yes please,” Ben said earnestly, already breathing quite heavily.
“Would you like to see me, then? Shall I turn a light on?”
“Yes, oh yes!” he said, agreeing to her question even as he expressed his excitement at the
stimulation she was giving him.
“Just a moment then,” she said, letting go of him and shuffling around.
It was a shock to his eyes when the bedside lamp came on. He briefly shielded them, then
took in the room. The lamp rested on a small bedside chest of drawers, casting a pool of
light on a scattered pile of hair accessories, cosmetics and makeup. He was facing the
louvre doors of a fitted wardrobe. He turned his head briefly to see the niche of the bay
window behind him, heavily draped in long dark curtains. There was a dressing table and
chair there, one covered in a pile of papers with a laptop computer balanced on top, the
other covered in clothes. On the wall beyond the foot of the bed were some framed posters,
stylishly advertising sunny travel destinations, just like the one in the spare room. Beneath
them were stacked piles of yet more books, perhaps those that Marcie had taken from the
shelves in the spare room to make space for him.
Marcie had risen to her feet and was standing shyly at the edge of the bed. “Sorry it’s a
mess in here,” she said as, after his moment to take in his surrounding, his focus returned
to her.
Ben didn’t want to say it, but he’d seen a lot worse. He reassured her, “Don’t worry. It’s
lovely. It’s your home.”
“And these pyjamas,” she said, raising her hand to the top button of her shirt, “I thought
these would be a total passion killer.”
Ben was almost ready to agree, now that he could see them clearly. Her soft cotton plaid
pyjama suit, with its roomy trousers and long-sleeved top, complete with a little collar,
could not have been more homely. And yet it still revealed the curves of her body beneath,
her wide hips and her heavy bust. His arousal had not dampened at all, thinking of her
naked skin under the soft brushed cotton. In some ways, he found her sexier for the honest
simplicity of her choice of nightwear. “They didn’t work,” he said weakly.
“Shall I just take them off quickly?” she asked, perhaps more as a challenge to herself as she
tried to find the courage to do so in front of him, because before he could answer, her
fingers were already undoing the buttons.
Ben saw her reveal the deep crease between her breasts, and then as she undid the last
button of her pyjama top, she pushed her chest out to shrug it off her shoulders. Suddenly
her naked breasts were revealed before him, giving Ben a surge of arousal as he saw their
heavy curves, the large dusky pink ovals of her areolae, the crumpled buds of her nipples
and the thin paler skin taut beneath them. He felt mildly surprised that her areolae were
not darker, then internally chastised himself for his possible prejudice. He’d half expected
her to reveal chocolate-brown circles around her nipples, perhaps because he’d
unconsciously thought that with her thick dark hair she was of a different race. Now he saw
that even though her skin had an olive tone, she was clearly just southern European, not of
Middle Eastern or North African origins. He immediately knew that her breasts - with their
full volume, naturally weighing down and parting widely over her ribs, with their delicate
tracery of veins too, surmounted by those rosy stretched circles around her nipples - were
simple perfection in his eyes. “You’re beautiful!” he found himself exclaiming.
“I’ve got big wobbly boobs, you mean,” she teased, bundling her pyjama top up and
throwing it to the floor, making the boobs that she had referred to sway a little, just as
she’d said.
“They’re so feminine,” he tried to explain, struggling to find words in his distraction,
“You’re so perfectly feminine.”
“Well, you’re so masculine,” she replied, gesturing at his exposed penis.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him, given the pleasure that he felt looking at Marcie now,
“Can you even see me that clearly, without your glasses?”
“No, not really,” she confessed, raising her hands to her shoulders, perhaps deliberately
trying to cover her chest with her crossed arms. Ben could still see enough of her breasts
though, so the gesture merely seemed to make her even sexier.
“Well, put them on if you want,” he said.
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked sceptically.
“Of course not!” Ben replied earnestly, feeling as if he were hearing an echo of her previous
boyfriends’ expectations in the room. As she scrabbled for them on the bedside table, he
guiltily watched her breasts swing and jiggle again. He found he’d automatically moved his
hand to cup his scrotum, holding the base of his eager erection, increasing the pleasure of
his rigid arousal.
“Ah, there you are! Oh, I see you’re still wearing my Nanna’s charm, even if I found you
naked in bed. You were as good as your word, sleeping without pyjamas.”
Ben was surprised that she hadn’t even been able to see the necklace without her glasses,
and felt glad that she was wearing them now. He also felt glad that he’d undressed in his
own bed earlier. In the hospital, he’d only hinted to Marcie that he typically slept in the
nude, but it was obviously a detail that she’d remembered.
“It’s good to see your little man clearly too! Not that he’s so little.” Marcie said lightly as
her eyes shifted down Ben’s body, lying prone on her bed, to stare at his exposed full
manhood.
“He’s not always so much to look at,” Ben said self-deprecatingly, slipping quickly into her
habit of treating his penis like an independent male personality. He tried to imagine seeing
the long curved shaft with its bulging blood vessels and cherry-red head through her eyes.
“He’s a bit of an odd thing to look at now too.”
“No, he’s the real deal,” she said, almost as if to herself. “Well, I should introduce him to my
pussy, even if we can’t get them together tonight.”
With that she quickly pushed her pyjamas down over her wide hips, letting them fall to the
floor. Ben was delighted to see the thick dark triangle of her untidy pubic hair, broad under
the smooth skin below her bellybutton, tapering to the gap between her firm naked thighs,
where he thought he could just see the shadowy crease of her vulva.
Suddenly a thought seemed to occur to her, and she put one hand quickly over her pubic
hair, the other going to her breast. Once again though, this vain attempt at modesty only
made her seem even sexier to Ben as she stood beside her bed. She had become the very
image of the perfect nude to him, the model and muse to artists throughout history, even
whilst the glasses over her anxious eyes gave her the educated appearance of a modern,
elevated intellectual.
“I forgot to say,” She urgently explained, “I don’t shave! Do you mind? I could cover up
again if this is a big turn-off.”
“Hell no!” Ben said emphatically, “It’s your womanhood, full, honest and flourishing, just
like my manhood.”
“I think I’m being deeply unfashionable, letting her stay bushy,” Marcie said, dropping her
hand and lifting her knee to start getting back into bed. As she stooped to lift the corner of
the duvet, Ben struggled to lift his eyes from the shadows between her legs, even with the
delicious sight of her breasts, hanging low and swinging as she quickly moved into bed. He
had definitely caught an arousing glimpse of the long line between her hairy outer lips
though.
“She’s wonderful just like that,” he said, trying to reassure Marcie even as he still gripped
the base of his rampant arousal.
“Well, I hope she gets on well with your little man! Your jack-in-the-box, your pop-up pirate,
your long jolly Rodger, your rod,” she said, clearly enjoying herself, giggling as she played
with her ideas and snuggled up beside him, touching the head of his penis briefly with her
fingertips, before getting under his free arm that he’d held out to her. “I hope they get to
know each other very well.”
Ben had been watching the moving curves of Marcie’s naked body with delight. Now he felt
a visceral thrill as her skin made contact with his, all along their thighs, their hips and their
torsos, but especially where the soft cushion of her breast pressed against his chest. His
tingling excitement rose higher still when she played her fingernails down his bare chest
and stomach. “I’d like that,” Ben said, releasing his own genitals, letting that firm rod fall
heavily against his torso as he reached towards her, to stroke and caress her, craning his
neck to kiss her too.
But Marcie pushed his arm gently back, then put her palm on his forehead, encouraging
him to lie back on the pillow as she said, “Shh, you’re to relax, to take this very easy. I’m
going to stroke you, to masturbate you, as gently as I can until you’re able to let your semen
out, to release all that pressure, just as calmly as you can. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ben agreed breathlessly, even as Marcie brushed his erect penis with her nails, up
his shaft to the back of his head with all the gentleness she’d promised. His breath was
speeding up as his chest heaved now, but it was only his eager anticipation, and it all felt
absolutely fine.
“Hmm, your rod, yes,” Marcie murmured dreamily as she delicately stroked, “Your magic
wand, your woody stem, your pink banana, your slippery bone, your cherry lollipop, your
ripe plum on its stiff trunk, full of sweet juice, ready to burst, your virile manhood, yes.”
Still lying on her side, tucked under his armpit, she’d managed to free her other hand,
bringing it across his thigh to grip his shaft awkwardly while she conjured up her
metaphors. Meanwhile the fingertips of her higher hand were delicately touching his
exposed head, or his frenulum specifically, while her thumb rested on its collar. As she idly
played with him, she asked, “You’re not circumcised, are you? Oh, do you mind me asking?
Do you mind me even talking? I’ve been chattering away. Say ‘Shut up woman, just get on
with it,’ if that’s what you want.”
Ben was breathing deeply, absorbed in the exciting sensations of her hands on his
satisfyingly long and stiff erection, but he managed to answer. “No. I’m not circumcised. It’s
just rolled up. Do ask, anything. And do talk. It’s nice. Oh, this feels good, what you’re
doing.”
“I want to be gentle, though,” she said. She had found a bead of lubrication that had leaked
from the tip of his urethra and was sliding her forefinger around on it. That obviously
prompted an idea in her mind as she remarked, “Hmm, that’s slippery. Ooh! I have a tube of
gel. Would it feel nice if I put some on you?”
“Aye, yes,” Ben answered eagerly but breathlessly, “I use my saliva sometimes too, but gel
is good.”
“I’ll get it then, but I’ll remember I can use spit as a backup. It’s in a drawer on your side,
excuse me,” she said, dropping his heavy penis and reaching across to move over the top of
him. “Lie still!” she commanded as she got one knee over his legs, propping herself up with
her hands across his chest. In this position, her bushy vulva’s shadowy lips were spread
wide and poised just above his erection, whilst her naked breasts swung down, just
brushing his chest. In his primal excitement at this, Ben had been unable to resist the urge
to lift his hands and grasp her wide hips. He was also raising his head in the hope of kissing
her, on her neck and shoulders at least, even if he could not reach her mouth.
So he realised her command might have been necessary to divert them from that path back
toward simulated intercourse, or even the real thing had she complied with his impulse to
push himself against her, if she were to willfully receive his penetration. At that moment
Ben would have been very happy to thrust his hips against her, to rub his penis against her
vulva and to keep moving with urgent pressure until he came. Her words may have saved
his hammering heart from leading him recklessly into another attack of genuinely life-
threatening breathlessness, or even the risky realm of unplanned and unprotected
intercourse.
Now she was lying on her front across the sheet next to him, on what had been his side of
the bed. Her head was hanging over the edge whilst she rummaged in the drawer that she
must have pulled open in its base. “Aha!” she said, rolling onto her back, holding her prize -
a tube of intimate gel - in her fist. Ben recognised the K-Y brand and briefly wondered why
Marcie had it, then quickly banished the thought, letting himself just enjoy the moment. She
undid the cap then tucked herself under Ben’s arm once again, in the mirror image of the
position that she’d been in moments earlier.
Now that she was lying on her side again, squashing one arm beneath her, her lower hand
again had limited movement as it held Ben’s turgid erection. Noticing this, he put his own
hand around his scrotum again, to grip the base of his shaft and hold himself upright. He
felt a delicious thrill as Marcie squirted the cold gel onto his glossy red head, squeezing the
tube generously with her raised hand. “Oh, is that chilly?” Then she tossed the tube aside to
rub the lubrication all around his glans, gripping it in a slippery fist, making Ben spasm and
shiver with arousal, “But nice, I think. Just lie still, breath slowly and enjoy it now.”
She did not pause, but kept gently massaging him between the tips of her fingers and
thumb with slow twisting movements, even whilst her other hand maintained a steady grip
low on his shaft, brushing his own hand. “I just want to hold you,” she explained, “Maybe
you would rub your little man up and down, but I think like this you will still come when
you’re ready. Let me know if I’m doing it wrong.”
Ben was panting, feeling himself building to orgasm even as he lay passively in Marcie’s
hands, trying to keep his heavy breathing slow and deep. “It’s good. I’m close,” he managed
to say as he looked deep into her smiling eyes, then down. He gaze fell over her body, past
her breasts, squashed together as she lay on her side and pressed against his ribcage. He
could only see one nipple, poking up on the wrinkled pink field of her areola. Lower down,
he could also only just see the corner of her pubic hair, but he imagined her vulva lying
against his thigh. But now he was looking at his own penis, stretched long and rigid in her
small hands.
She had moved her fingers to the collar of his glans, so he could see how glossy and full its
dark reddish-purple bulb appeared. She was encircling it with her finger and thumb,
making a slow back and forth screwing motion, dragging his tender skin a little. Then she
momentarily withdrew her fingers to put them to her mouth. Ben was excited to see her
purse her lips and squeeze some bubbling saliva onto them, then her fingertips were back
around his head, slipping over it more easily again.
“I think I can squeeze between his head and his hood,” she murmured. Ben was softly
panting in pleasure now, holding himself up firmly as she worked, one finger close to his
anus, his thumb pressing into his penis at the point where it rose from his pubic mound.
But Marcie had already shifted her hand again. Her thumb was now pressing on the back of
his head, stroking in tiny circles, while her index finger was still hooked around its collar,
even whilst her other small hand just gripped his shaft firmly, pulling down as if to stretch
him out, her fist pressing against his thumb. “Is that good? Ooh, is it getting even harder?
Oh!”
Her surprise of exclamation came because a pulse of semen had suddenly burst out,
catching them both by surprise as it arced high over Ben’s chest to land somewhere near
his collarbone. He groaned as the next pulse of his ejaculation came, a great gout this time,
splashing down audibly near his bellybutton. Yet still he hovered at the brink of his true
orgasm. “Oh Marcie! Fuck!” he breathed as she continued to stimulate his head and shaft.
He buried his face against her, pressing his cheek and lips against her forehead, feeling the
soft tickle of her stray hairs as he grunted in pleasure. He’d tipped over the edge now,
falling inevitably into the mindless ecstasy of the moment as his penis twitched and
spasmed.
“That’s it, let it come. It’s all okay, I’m here. Let it flow. Breathe easy,” she crooned as he
followed her advice, feeling himself sinking into her bed, willing his muscles to relax, to
release their tension, from his shoulders and biceps down his stomach to his buttocks and
anus, through his thighs and right down to his toes. The pulses of his continued ejaculation
were inevitable now of course, making his penis jerk about involuntarily as the semen kept
pumping out, trickling down over Marcie’s hand. He was panting, groaning softly with each
rapid breath. But his orgasm still felt profoundly calm, flowing through his body, as Marcie
had said, taking him past any cares, past any thought, so all he knew was the electrifying
experience of raw bliss coursing through him, leaving him shaking and shuddering.
The long moment passed, and his heavy breathing slowed whilst the delicate yet secure
movements of Marcie’s hands stilled. Then she lifted her upper hand from his penis, which
was already softening, even whilst it remained thick and long. To his surprise, he saw her
lift her loose fist back to her mouth and suck up the semen that had dribbled across it.
Licking the last smears, she looked guiltily up at him, her eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin.
“I’m the cat who’s got the cream,” she said slyly by way of explanation, then dropped her
hand to his belly.
She’d deliberately placed her palm in the slick puddle of semen that had pooled there, and
now she rubbed it across his firm flat stomach in an increasingly wide spiral. Ben found
himself thrilled by this in his post-orgasmic sensitivity. He breathed out a long low “Hmm,”
even as he felt the last few drops of semen oozing from his softening penis. His free hand
moved from where it had been, cupping his scrotum, to grip Marcie’s smooth bare hip.
“Does it normally shoot out like that?” she asked quietly as she found the smaller puddle by
his collarbone.
“No, that was exceptional. In every way. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to do it for you, but I enjoyed it for myself too. I
enjoyed myself a lot! Oh look, you even splashed Nanna’s pendant!” Marcie exclaimed,
prodding the sticky little silver cross with her fingertip.
“I’m sorry. It’s not disrespectful is it, letting it get dirty?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s more like you Christened it, I would say. I won’t mention it to my Nanna,
though. She’d laugh about it for the rest of her days, and tell all her friends too. And hey,
this stuff isn’t dirty, right?” she said, raising her semen-covered palm to his face, “It’s
healthy and natural. You and me, when we make our fluids in love, we should not be
ashamed of them, right? If we left them lying around too long, maybe they’d get manky, but
when they’re fresh, they’re to be enjoyed and celebrated as the expression of our passion,
okay?”
Ben thought he saw now why Marcie was happy to put his semen to her mouth, and why
she might have enjoyed smearing it across his torso too. He could see her point of view,
though it felt unfamiliar. Perhaps in his mind, he’d only thought of these things as
necessary side effects of lovemaking, to be dealt with promptly by wiping them away.
“Okay,” he agreed. “You know I’m safe too, don’t you? I take care. I would have told you if I
had anything awful, well, like AIDS. Because we’re still honest, right? I give blood and they
take tests, so I’m sure.”
“Yes, absolutely we’re honest, about what we want, about how we feel with all this sex stuff
now too. But this would have been a hell of a time to tell me if you’d been a risk!” she joked.
“And I’m safe too, if we get to that later. But I’m not on the Pill, so we’ll still use condoms,
okay?”
“Okay,” Ben said, pulling her close for a cuddle, his mind reeling at the thought that Marcie
was genuinely anticipating fully penetrative sex with him. At last they kissed again, lazily
and deeply, Marcie lying across him, her soft breasts and smooth stomach pressing against
the sticky skin of his torso. Ben could taste his sperm in Marcie’s mouth, and he savoured it,
breathing deeply through his nose as he sucked her tongue. His hand had moved from her
hip to the full cheek of her buttock, which he gripped and rolled in his hand. But he was
struggling to make the effort to move now as his deep bone-weary tiredness was returning.
Marcie may have inferred this from his slowing motion, as she raised her head and said,
“I’ve got to put you down and let you get to sleep. Let me get my pyjamas to rub down any
wet patches we’ve still got. They’re going in the wash now, and I think maybe they won’t
come out again for a very long time. I’m going to join you in sleeping naked tonight, I
think.”
Marcie had pushed herself across him again, sliding over like a seal rather than propping
herself up. A part of Ben still wanted to grab her, hold her close while she lay on top of him,
but he felt too tired to even try. She was lying next to him again now, one part of her
brushed cotton plaid bedtime outfit in her fist, rubbing her hands down. She offered it to
Ben, and he took it to wipe the drips that had leaked from his softening rod, as Marcie had
called it amongst all those other playful metaphors. He wiped his chest and around his
bellybutton too, dabbing at the necklace, though some of the semen had already dried to
crusty flakes on his warm skin. Still lying on his back, he passed the dirty garment to Marcie,
who dropped it on the floor.
“Are you ready for me to turn the light out?” she asked, and Ben confirmed he was. When
she’d removed her glasses and clicked off the light, he cuddled up against her bare skin in
the darkness, again finding they’d fitted together naturally in the spooning position. He felt
thrilled to put his hand on her bare breast, touching its silken softness with his rough hands,
feeling the bump of her nipple under his fingertips. Yet he kept still, also feeling the weight
in his limbs, and his spent penis did not respond, as sleep was rapidly claiming him.
“You’re my girlfriend now, Marcie,” he whispered as he drifted. He wasn’t sure himself if it
was a question or a statement.
“Yes,” he heard her whisper in response with a contented sigh, “And you’re my man,
Benjamin Osborne.”
Chapter 8
Ben was deeply asleep when he heard an unfamiliar beeping. He felt momentarily
disoriented, wondering if he was still in hospital and, if so, why he was naked. But he
swiftly realised that he felt far too comfortable for that, coming to his senses as he heard
Marcie’s groan beside him. He opened his eyes as she rolled over to stop the alarm, seeing
the mole-scattered bare skin of her back and the disordered state of her wild braided hair
in the light that crept around the curtains.
His arm still lay across her naked body, and already he felt a full erection that he would
have gladly kept pushing against her buttocks and hips, or even her vulva. But she rolled
back over only to give him a quick firm kiss on his lips, saying, “I’ve got to get up for work,
but you stay here to sleep more,” before she pushed herself out of bed.
He relaxed, ready to follow her instruction, and felt himself drifting off again even as he
heard her bumping around the room. He was awoken by some smaller noises a little later,
and he realised that she’d come back in. By the chinks of morning light he could see that
she was now fully dressed in some fresh loose trousers and yet another smart blouse, her
hair pinned back tightly again. She had a mug of tea in her hand, and he realised she was
trying to creep to the bedside to leave it there for him.
He pushed himself up onto his elbow to reach over and clear some space for it, throwing
the duvet aside, blearily saying, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Marcie said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ve left a note on
the table, but enjoy your lie-in. I’ll be back by lunchtime.”
She had put the mug down and was leaning over him, resting her fingertips on his cheek
just as she had at times last night. She stooped down to give him a peck on his lips, then
suddenly grabbed the duvet to pull it right off him.
“I want to see that it wasn’t just a dream!” she explained with enthusiasm. His broad chest
and belly had already been exposed. Now his hips and his genitals were too. His penis was
engorged again, stretched long in his morning arousal, but not truly hard. That began to
change as Marcie ran her nails down his chest, over his belly, and then, to his surprise and
delight, wrapped her hand around his shaft to grip it firmly.
“Gotcha!” she exclaimed in a quiet, conspiratorial way, but she immediately released him to
stand up straight above him again. “Oh, Ben. I am truly sorry to leave you,” she said, “But
make yourself at home and I’ll be back before you know it for our adventure in the Dene,
and maybe more. I can promise that I’ll be thinking of you, so just relax and look after your
lungs.” She stooped down again to give him another kiss, lingering this time with her lips
parted, tickling him with her fingertips behind his ear. Ben raised his fingers to her chin,
but she pulled away, saying plaintively “I must go,” as she backed towards to door.
But she paused when she got there, lifting her hand to her lips to blow him a final kiss. “Lie
back now. Get more sleep if you can. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you,” Ben said as she left, feeling self-conscious as he pulled up the duvet and made
a show of settling back down. He heard her unlock the door, then close it behind her firmly.
He stared at the ceiling as he thought of her last night, his own hand gripping his erection
now. But then he tried to comply with Marcie’s instructions, lying back and relaxing while
his tea cooled. It didn’t take long for him to realise that it was futile though, that he was not
going to get back off to sleep, so he got up and walked naked through the flat to the
bathroom with his mug.
He urinated, showered, finished the tea that Marcie had made for him, then went to the
spare room still wrapped in his towel to get dressed. On his way back to the bathroom to
hang up his towel, he saw Marcie’s note on a page that was clearly torn from her Filofax.
“Cereal, honey etc in cupboards. Fresh coffee in fridge for cafetiere. Help yourself. If able to
shop: milk, bread, juice, sugar, something for tea, anything else you want. I’m home 13:30,
don’t wait for lunch (soup?). Check shelves for any book to read. Chill out, take care of
yourself.” At the bottom she’d put the letter M and a small X, just as there had been on the
note she’d left with him in hospital. Ben felt confident it was her kiss now, but this time she
had also drawn a small heart just before it.
Ben wondered what she had meant by that. Perhaps this was her way of signing off with
love, but without actually writing that dangerous word down. As he pottered around the
kitchen, making himself half a pot of coffee and finding something for breakfast, he thought
of what he’d have put if he’d left a note for her, and realised that he felt very comfortable
with using that four-letter word now.
It was true that Marcie had been a stranger to him less than forty-eight hours ago, but it
was also true that they had become very close. When she had come to him in the night,
inviting him to her bed, and he had said yes, he knew that he was agreeing to more than
just physical intimacy. He thought he remembered her speaking of her soul reaching out to
him, and he knew that he felt the same way. The shock of the precarious situation that he
had found himself in had driven them together, but they were not merely survivors clinging
together on a life raft now. Instead he felt sure they were already committed lovers,
savouring the fresh air blowing from that unknown future as they joyfully breathed it in
with eager anticipation, turning their backs to the car crash that Marcie had spoken of
being behind them.
He was hungry, and his breakfast made quite a dent in Marcie’s stocks. He took her note to
add in small letters, “Cereal, jam, yoghurt, bananas.” Then he thought of a meal that he
could cook. He hoped that she would like a chicken curry made with a jar of sauce, one of
his reliable regular recipes. He added these to his list too, after checking that she had rice
and some onions already. Thinking back to the previous evening, he also decided to get a
bottle of wine to put in the fridge, even though he guessed it might not be something that
Marcie drank every night.
Now that he had a plan, he cleaned up in the kitchen, brushed his teeth and shaved, tidied
the spare room, then went through to Marcie’s bedroom to make her bed. He drew the
heavy green curtains back, finding tiebacks to gather them in and seeing the thin voile
curtains behind them that let the light in. He shook out the duvet and pillows, smoothing
the sheet down before remaking the bed. He thought the paired piles of plump pillows that
he’d stacked against the high headboard seemed emblematic of their new status as a
genuine couple. He was aware though that he shouldn’t make assumptions or put pressure
on Marcie to sleep with him again. But as he put the tube of lubricant that he’d found
discarded and forgotten in the bedclothes on the bedside table, he remembered again with
pleasure what they had done there the night before, sincerely hoping that it was just the
start of their shared adventures in that bed. He scanned around, unsure that he could tidy
anything else up, but he fondly picked up Marcie’s modest pyjamas to take through to the
laundry basket in the bathroom.
Feeling positive that the flat was shipshape again and that he was ready for the day, Ben
found his jacket and phone, checked that he had his wallet and the keys that Marcie had
given him, then slipped his shoes on before stepping outside. He glanced at the broken
clouds in the fresh spring sky and guessed rain showers would be unlikely. He felt fairly
confident of the local geography, primarily from nights out on his namesake, the nearby
Osborne Road. He felt that if he headed towards it, he would soon find the short road that
was busy with shops which he knew ran off it. This turned out to be closer than he had
realised, and he easily found a small supermarket that let him do all his shopping. He
passed a florist’s too, and on an impulse bought a modest bunch of flowers for Marcie. He
chose some for their white and blue colours, or perhaps just because he recognised they’d
used sprigs of eucalyptus leaves for decoration.
He was back at the flat with the shopping tidied away and the flowers in a jug of water
before eleven o’clock, his breathing feeling just fine from the gentle exercise. He thought of
how he might spend the rest of the morning, and decided to follow up Marcie’s suggestion
rather than returning to the book that they had started together. He put the kettle on for
another coffee, then started browsing the books on the living room shelves. It was an
impressive collection, with large hardcover books like the atlas that Marcie had pulled out
on the lower shelves and ranks of paperbacks higher up. He thought there were too many
for him to even read all the spines’ titles in a morning, especially when he saw these
paperbacks were stacked two deep on the shelf.
Once he’d popped back into the kitchen to finish making his coffee, he came back to check
some of the titles hidden behind the front row. As he pulled a few books away on the top
shelf, one book seemed to leap out at him. Its spine was brightly coloured, and its simple
title boldly declared in large letters, “Hot Sex.” He pulled it out, unsure if it were a joke, but
realised that it was not when he read the strapline on the cover, “The ultimate bedside
companion, packed with erotic yet practical tips for men and women.”
Intrigued, he sat down on the sofa with his mug of tea to read more. Skipping over the blurb
on the first few pages, he got stuck in with the first proper chapter, simply called
“Masturbation.” Using a bookmark that he’d found loose on the bookshelves to follow the
lines, as Marcie has shown him, he realised the writing style was actually quite easygoing.
After getting through some chatty introductory paragraphs, he read sections where the
author described first the penis and then the vagina. He skipped over the description of the
former to some extent, but he really concentrated on the latter. He felt things falling into
place as he read, half-familiar descriptions and experiences from previous girlfriends
becoming clear. He realised that things which he’d had only a vague understanding of, like
the necessity of clitoral stimulation for female orgasm or the significance of the G-spot, had
a clear and definite truth.
As he read these details, in fascination and a degree of pleasant arousal, he recognised that
he was automatically relating everything he read to Marcie specifically. He wanted to talk
to her about all the things that the author, this Tracy Cox, had described, to confirm
whether it was true. He wanted her to share her own feelings about what her most
sensitive spots were too, so that he could really get to know them well and give her all the
pleasure that she’d given him.
His coffee grew slowly cold as he pressed on, reading next about solo sex “for her.” He
could only assume that Marcie had read this book too, and felt excited and encouraged by
that thought. She had surely taken the author’s advice, practising masturbation to learn
more about her body and to explore her sexual potential. He very much hoped that they
would be able to talk about this together soon too, and he indulged in daydreams about her
demonstrating things to him. They had been honest with each other so far, he thought, and
she had also seemed happy to talk about sex while they were in bed together last night. He
realised now how important that open honesty might be. He felt eager to learn whether she
would be able to explain the most intimate parts of her body to him, or perhaps show him
how she carried on when she was alone.
He kept on reading with concentration through a section on masturbation techniques for
women, which listed positions or situations to try. The author then listed “Ten Good
Reasons to Masturbate,” making him feel increasingly convinced that Marcie would have
followed the author’s recommendations. The book then moved into a similar section for
men, which Ben felt might be less insightful to him.
He set the book aside and pondered his own attitudes about “wanking off”, as he thought of
it, while he sipped his cool coffee. He felt empathy for some of the quotes from men in the
book, that it was healthy to do it regularly, but that there was still a lot of secrecy and
perhaps some guilt around it. He was reassured by the idea that it wasn’t only for lonely
men without girlfriends. Yet he also felt that perhaps he had been doing himself a
disservice by just shaking it out quickly. He had still come quite quickly when Marcie had
started playing with him last night, but the way that she had done it had felt different. She
had not really rubbed him up and down, just held him and gently stroked his most sensitive
points with slow touches. Yet the orgasm that she’d triggered had been profoundly
satisfying, not least from the surprising force of his ejaculation.
He decided to put the book back where he had found it, so Marcie didn’t learn that he had
been reading it straight away. But he left his bookmark in it, and resolved to find a suitable
moment to talk to her about it before the evening. Ben was still cautious about forcing
himself on her, and he wanted to make it clear that she didn’t have to take him into her bed
again just because she had done so once. Yet he also felt confident that things had moved
on between them significantly, beyond mere friendship. It seemed likely that they would
keep sleeping together with all the confidence and self-assurance of a far more established
couple now.
When he heard a rumpus from upstairs, with some banging and the wail of a child’s
tantrum, Ben felt he ought to stop just daydreaming about sex with Marcie. He went to the
bathroom to freshen himself up by splashing his face with cold water, then returned to the
sofa with the book he had started yesterday. He found himself slipping back into the story
of Mort easily, imagining Marcie’s voice in the words, but he missed the pleasure of hearing
her read it aloud.
He was disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing. He searched frantically for it in his
jacket pocket, feeling relief when he found it in time to answer the call from Marcie herself.
“I’m sorry to ask you this,” she said after they’d said hello and asked how each other were,
“But I forgot we’d loaded the car with Richard’s crap yesterday afternoon. I saw it there
when I started walking to work, then thought I’d better drive in to dump it all in his office.
But I’m not sure I can carry it all, and to be honest I’d feel better if you were with me when
I do it. I’m finishing here in half an hour. Could I ask you to meet me at the car? It’s in
exactly the same place as it was when I picked you up from hospital. Can you find it? Oh,
and are you sure you’ll be okay walking all that way and then doing some lifting?”
Ben reassured her that he could find his way, and that he would be fine carrying a few
boxes. He also told her truthfully that he was glad she had rung to ask for his help. She said
how grateful she was too, then closed down the call, explaining she needed to get back to
the library helpdesk.
Ben tidied up a little, taking his mug to the sink, then put his jacket on with his phone back
in its pocket, before putting his shoes on to leave the flat again. He thought he could find his
way to Marcie’s workplace, remembering there was a pedestrian route between Osborne
Road and the university buildings. He found this easily once he had reached a familiar
Metro station, and so within twenty minutes of finishing their call, he was turning into the
street where Marcie had parked her car. He walked up to it, noticed the familiar boxes still
loaded inside it, then saw a low wall to perch on while he waited. Sitting down on the hard
stone, he stretched his shoulders back and took some deliberate slow and easy breaths,
relaxing as he admired the fresh new growth on the healthy trees that lined the street.
When he spotted Marcie walking towards her car on the pavement, clutching her slim
satchel strapped over the shoulder of her smart jacket, he felt his heart beat a little faster in
his joy at seeing her. As he met her halfway, she smiled broadly and said, “Hello you.” They
approached each other close enough for Ben to reach out and touch her arm, then as she
raised her face, he leant down to give her a peck on the cheek. When his lips had brushed
her soft warm skin, he was prepared to move swiftly to kiss her other cheek, feeling
pleased that he’d anticipated this as they pulled apart, grinning at each other.
“Come on, let’s get this over and done with,” Marcie said, slipping her hand into his. “The
Law School’s staff offices are in there,” she explained, pointing at one of the converted
houses with her free hand. “I left Richard a message, but I’m not sure he’s in. I’ll say hello
to our office admin Julie anyway, and she’ll find us somewhere to put them if we can’t get
into his office. Are you sure you can manage that?”
Marcie had opened the car boot as she described her plan, and Ben had got one of the
fullest boxes out, with a tied-up carrier bag balanced on top. He assured her he would be
okay, so she took two more carrier bags, locked the car, and they set off. Marcie obviously
knew the code to let them in, then knocked at an open door on the ground floor before
walking on in.
“Hi Julie,” she said brightly, putting her bags down, “This is Ben. He’s helping me drop
some stuff off for Professor York. Do you know if he’s in?”
“Marcie, you’re looking well,” a heavy older woman said, rising to her feet from behind her
desk to come towards them. Ben was interested to see that she naturally gave Marcie the
same welcoming kiss that she’d just shared with him. “Pleased to meet you, Ben,” she went
on to say warmly, holding out her hand. He put his box down shake it gratefully, as he’d felt
unsure of trying Marcie’s Mediterranean greeting with this unknown woman.
“I think the professor is in. Would you like me to buzz him?” Julie asked, going back to
stand beside her desk.
“Yes please,” Marcie agreed, breathing in deeply as if steeling herself for an unpleasant
challenge.
Julie lifted the handset on her complex desk phone and pressed a button. “Hello Professor,”
she said in a business-like way, obviously getting through immediately, “Miss Tabone is
here with a friend to drop some things off for you. Can she come up? Thank you.”
She hung up, then smiled at Marcie, “Go on up, pet. You don’t need another pair of hands,
do you?”
“No, thank you,” Marcie confirmed, then picked up the bags to lead Ben up the domestic-
seeming stairs to a door on the first floor. She knocked, balancing the bags awkwardly, then
opened it when they heard a voice bark, “Come!”
Richard was sitting at a large desk set beside a high bay window that looked through the
trees over the street. Ben realised this must have been one of the grandest rooms in the
original house, and there was obviously some status associated with having an office here
now. “Marcella, darling,” he said, rising to his feet as she walked in, his hands spread wide,
but then he saw Ben behind her and seemed to deflate. “Oh, it’s you. Yes, put them down
there, thank you,” he ordered, his tone expressing contempt rather than gratitude.
Ben put his box down in the empty spot behind the door that Richard had indicated, then
Marcie put her carrier bags down next to it, all while she explained, “I was just tidying the
flat and found quite a lot of your things. I thought I’d bring them round so you needn’t
worry about coming around to collect them.”
“Hmm, I see,” was all Richard found to say.
“There are two more boxes, I think. Ben and I will just pick them up from the car.”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead,” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
Ben followed Marcie down the stairs and out of the building in silence. Once they’d reached
the pavement, Ben quickened his pace to walk back towards the car beside her and saw
that her face was set in a grim fury. “What a pig!” she exclaimed when she felt a safe
distance away, “I’m so cross at his behaviour, treating you like that. Mother of God, what a
fool I feel. How did I ever let him charm me?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not a problem for me,” Ben said. He thought of the apparent facts, that
whatever Richard did, Marcie would be taking him home to her flat now, not Richard, and
that gave him a reassuring sense of self-confidence. In a way, the worse that Richard
behaved, the better it would be for Marcie and him, as long as he demonstrated the
kindness and appreciation toward her that he’d committed to. He didn’t know how to
explain this, but he did say, “You’re showing your true strength now.”
Marcie made a scoffing noise, but Ben went on as a thought occurred to him, “He might just
be trying to impose some control on the situation. He lost that when you changed the script.
If him telling me where to put some boxes down is the consequence, well, it’s a small price
to pay for you taking charge.”
“You’re too kind. Come on, let’s dump these last boxes then forget him,” Marcie said, now
they were back at her car. Ben found he could lift the two remaining boxes by himself, so he
let Marcie lock up the car, then lead him back to the Law School building.
Richard didn’t get up from his desk when they went upstairs into his office again, making a
thin pretence of being busy at something on his desktop computer. “Marcella, my rose,
thank you for that,” he said, even though it was manifestly only Ben who’d brought
anything to drop off this time. “Will you pop an appointment in my calendar later? We must
catch up to talk about your thesis outline for your review soon.”
Marcie calmly drew herself up straight before the professor’s desk while Ben waited by the
door. “Actually I don’t think that is a good idea. I will be asking Postgrad Student Support
about changing my supervisor now.”
“I see,” he said in a cool voice, his eyes only moving briefly from his screen to look at her,
then fleetingly glance at Ben. “Well, if you want to take that route, be aware that it may set
your progress back. Perhaps you and I can talk it about it some other time, in private,” he
clarified with another tiny glance at Ben.
“I think I’ll just speak to Student Support first, thank you. So, goodbye Richard,” Marcie
said stiffly, turning away from him, gesturing for Ben to leave the room ahead of her.
“Erm, yes, well goodbye,” Ben heard Richard say somewhat pathetically as Marcie closed
the door behind her.
As they passed the open door on the ground floor, they heard Julie call out, “Marcie, is that
you?”
She gripped Ben’s arm, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes, saying “I’d better go in to say
goodbye to her too.”
It seemed as if the older woman had known that something painful or awkward had just
happened. She rose from her desk without hesitating to give Marcie a motherly hug, then
let her go to grab a box of tissues from her desk to offer to her.
“There there, it’s alright,” she said, squeezing Marcie’s shoulder as she pulled a tissue out.
“I’m fine, really,” Marcie said, blowing her nose, “Thank you. I should let you know though,
I might not be in here so often now. I’m going to contact Student Support about changing
tutors.”
“I understand, pet,” Julie reassured her. “You’re a brave girl. Anything I can do to help,
anything at all, just let me know.”
“Thank you, Julie. You’re always so kind,” she said, blowing her nose again.
“It’s no bother at all. And have you got Ben to look after you now too?” she added, glancing
across at him to give him a wink that was so quick and subtle, Ben almost thought he’d
imagined it.
“Yes, but Ben’s had some bad news too. He’s only just come out of hospital!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, pet. But you can look after each other then,” Julie declared in a
warm tone, smiling contentedly. Perhaps the way that Marcie had not hesitated when she
had agreed that Ben would take care of her confirmed something that Julie had already
suspected.
“Yes, we will,” Marcie assured her, “But I must let you get on.”
“Aye, you two get off, enjoy the rest of your day,” Julie said, returning to her desk, “Just
remember, anything at all, just ask. We owe you that.”
Marcie thanked her one last time, tucking her tissue away, then she and Ben both said
goodbye as they made their way out. As they stepped into the fresh spring air, Marcie took
a deep breath and blew it out noisily, as if she’d been struggling underwater but had just
found her way back to the surface. She gripped Ben’s hand firmly and set off down the
pavement with him at a brisk pace.
“Well, that’s done. I’ll ring the university’s postgrad admin team tomorrow morning. Let’s
forget all about it for now. Do you want to see where I work?” she asked brightly, seemingly
putting a deliberate spring in her step, “It’s not far, and there’s a cafe where we could get
some lunch.”
“That would be nice. I’m hungry. I bought a carton of soup with some other stuff, but it will
keep. I was going to make chicken curry for tea.”
“Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to go to the shops, and we don’t really have to take it in
turns to cook, but it will be a treat to let you make something for me.”
The university library was indeed very close, back along the route they’d taken from the
hospital yesterday. Marcie had started talking to him about it as they walked there, but
wanted to wash her hands of Richard’s dirty things once they got inside. Ben agreed to do
the same, and Marcie continued to describe the place after they’d used the toilets, then got
some food and drinks. She proudly described its hidden archives, the way its atmosphere
changed throughout the academic year, and how it felt to be there alone out of hours. It was
clear that she loved the place, and that she thought it was the beating heart of the
university. She was trying to work out a way to get Ben membership too, so he could come
and go as he pleased. Though they’d not needed a pass them to get to the cafe, Ben had
seen the barriers inside the doorway that people used cards to get through.
He said that he didn’t need Marcie to get membership for him, that he couldn’t read books
meant for university students. But she still seemed keen, explaining to him that if he got an
IT account too, he could use the computers. He admitted that he did like the idea of being
able to stop by and see her at work. Ben found himself warming to the buzz of the place too,
seeing the diversity of students and older people passing through the cafe, gathering in
large loud groups or making small quieter rendezvous. He felt a little out of place, the big
manual labourer sat at one of their tables with his calloused hands. Yet as he sipped his
coffee like a student, happy in the company of the woman who practically owned this space,
he found that he was enjoying just being there.
By the time they had finished, she was forming a plan to register him as a visiting academic,
even without a reference from a partner university. She told him to leave it with her. He
said that would be nice, but then felt compelled to shamefully admit that he didn’t even
have a card for the city’s libraries.
“Oh, that’s a pity,” Marcie said, quickly covering her first reaction of shocked disbelief that
seemed to flash across her face. “It has a lot that you could enjoy discovering there, music
too, and you’re paying for it all already with your Council Tax. I can take you down there
another day perhaps to help you get set up and show you around. You’ll just need proof of
address. I guess we should pick that up from your flat before we go. But what did you want
to do now that I’m off for the afternoon? We’d planned a walk in Jesmond Dene.”
“That would be good,” Ben agreed, thinking of the symmetry of it, with him showing Marcie
where he worked now that she had shown him her library. But then he thought ruefully
that perhaps now it was just where he used to work.
As they walked to the car hand in hand, Marcie said, “I thought you might look at my own
bookshelves at home when I left you on your own in the flat this morning. Did you find
anything that caught your eye?”
Ben realised that this was the time for honesty, even though it may not have been the best
time to discuss it. “Erm, there was one book I found actually,” he began guiltily, “It was
called Hot Sex. It was by Tracy Cox, I think. I hope you don’t mind.”
Marcie chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Fancy you finding that,” she said. “Yes, I know the
book you mean. She wrote for Cosmopolitan magazine, I think. Do you know it? Did your
old girlfriends read it perhaps?”
“I think at least one did,” Ben admitted, remembering how a specific ex-girlfriend used to
try to talk about what she had read in the glossy magazine. He had never been sure if she
wanted him to follow its sexual advice or just share her hilarity at what they published
under the vague theme of what to do in the bedroom.
“Did you read much of the book then?” Marcie asked cheekily as they got into the car.
“Well, just the first few pages really,” he said sheepishly.
“Could you remind me how it started?” Marcie asked, looking at him with a twinkling smile
as her hand rested on the gearstick, ready to start the car.
Feeling as if he could do nothing but plough on with describing the book’s details, he
answered her in a matter-of-fact way, “It described the penis and the vagina. Then it talked
about masturbation, for women.”
“Yes, I think I remember. Perhaps we should talk about this later,” Marcie said thoughtfully,
still smiling to herself as she started the car, “Somewhere where we relax in private and get
comfortable,” she concluded, leaning across the car towards Ben. He reacted instinctively,
leaning in towards her as well so their lips came together. But a peck was all Marcie wanted
as she sat upright again, slipped the car into gear and pulled away.
Chapter 9
As they drove, Marcie was obviously thinking of a route for their adventure in Jesmond
Dene. “Once we park up, we can walk over past Saint George’s to get into the Dene nearer
the Gosforth end, by the waterfall, then we can walk down to the old Armstrong Bridge at
least before looping back through the Jesmond streets maybe. We can set straight off, if
that’s okay with you. This jacket is warm enough, but I’ll just pop back to the flat to change
my shoes and drop my bag off.”
“It sounds like you know the Dene well already,” Ben observed.
“Well, I’ve lived within ten minutes’ walk of it for years now. I’m not always at ease going
there on my own as a woman, but it’s a nice place to get some fresh air.”
Once they had parked up and stopped briefly at the flat, they set a brisk pace through the
Jesmond streets. Marcie started asking Ben about his work in the Dene, but realised quickly
that it was making him a bit sad. They fell into talking instead about what he did on his time
off, specifically during the summer months in the trees’ growing season when work could
be slower. She was intrigued to hear how Ben could sign up to join crews all around Europe
with his certified sailing competency. Given that he had sailed around the Balearics, the
Croatian and Ionian Islands as well as the Cyclades, she was a bit surprised that he’d never
visited Malta. She dropped heavy hints that she would like to sail with him around her
family’s home island, but he tried to put her off with the many anecdotes he had about the
squalid deprivations that crews sometimes had put up with.
They were under the trees of the Dene now, and Ben started explaining a bit of the history
of the place and the Armstrong family. He was surprised how much Marcie already knew
though, so he fell into describing the trees instead. As they walked hand in hand, they
passed different native and introduced species, including some particularly impressive
specimens that Ben had tended to in the past. Marcie seemed especially interested in the
traditional folklore that Ben could remember for some of the trees. He promised her that
there was more that he had forgotten, and he agreed to use her help in the library to look
the old stories up again.
This discussion had somehow brought them back to the Lord of the Rings film that they’d
both seen just before Christmas, and specifically the Ents who featured in it. Ben explained
that he’d felt suspicious of them, thinking they were somewhat childish, but Marcie
wondered if they didn’t tap into something deeper. She knew that the original author of the
books had been heavily influenced by Anglo Saxon and Norse mythology, but again she
warned Ben off trying to read them just yet. She remembered that there had also been a
long dramatisation of them that had been recorded by the BBC though, and she guessed
this was probably more faithful to the books than the films had been so far. She promised
to help him find it in the City Library once he had registered, so he could listen to the story
rather than read it.
They were climbing a steady incline of shallow steps to reach the level of the old bridge
now, and Ben was suddenly aware that he might have made a mistake by taking it at such a
pace. His chest was feeling tight and his breath was starting to wheeze, as if his lungs were
a leaky pair of bellows, letting air seep away. When he drew breath in, there seemed to be
resistance and delay, then when he exhaled, the air seemed to struggle to find its way out.
Marcie had a concerned expression when he explained this to her, but she calmly
encouraged him to sit down on a step and take it easy as she squatted down next to him,
still holding his hand. It seemed she was struggling to remain calm and mask her anxiety,
but she settled on telling Ben her own half-remembered stories of woodland beings as they
waited to see if he’d recover his breath naturally. So she began describing the nymphs and
dryads of Greek mythology, explaining that they seemed unrelated to Tolkien’s Ents.
She told him one story of a poplar tree’s dryad who had been tricked by Apollo, the god of
the Sun and music. She remembered that the god had disguised himself as a tortoise, who
sat in the dryad’s lap as she and her friends played innocently with it. Of course, the god’s
intention had been less innocent, and he had transformed himself again into a snake to coil
himself around her and rape her. Marcie explained that was often the way these stories
went, but she also thought it was funny to imagine the tortoise’s cheeky head bobbing up
and down in the sexy tree spirit’s lap, “The schemes of a supreme solar deity secretly at
work in his tiny wrinkled head.”
Then she remembered that Eurydice had been a dryad too. As Ben had not heard of her,
Marcie briefly summarised the story of Orpheus’s descent to the underworld to try and
save his lost love from death. She said how he’d faced the three-headed dog Cerberus, as
well as Charon who ferried the dead across the Styx, the river of forgetfulness. Marcie
pointed out that Charon might have actually been one of the inspirations for Terry
Pratchett’s Death, before she went on with Orpheus’s story. She explained that he charmed
both Cerberus and Charon, and then the king of the Underworld himself, the god Hades,
with the music of his lyre.
Marcie described the conclusion of the story, “He persuaded the king to release Eurydice,
but Hades said there was one rule that Orpheus must obey - he must lead his lover back to
the land of the living without once looking back. But of course, as they approached the end
of their horrid journey through the winding tunnels of the Underworld, Orpheus grew
uncertain, unable to hear Eurydice’s footsteps. So did look back, and in that awful moment
he saw that she had faithfully followed him all that way, but now she was being dragged
back to the land of the dead by the ghostly Shades. And so despite everything he’d faced, he
still lost Eurydice for good, or at least until he entered Hades’ realm again, at the point of
his own death.”
Ben said that parts of the story had seemed familiar after all, perhaps from old films that
he’d watched as a boy, as vague memories of jerkily animated monsters rose from
somewhere deep in his mind.
Marcie thought it likely that the ancient tale had spawned films. She then explained that
Orpheus’s story was one of the archetypes for the hero’s journey that Carl Jung and Joseph
Campbell had written about. In that monomyth, the initially naive hero is called to travel to
a strange land, where he faces challenges and then some kind of crisis, which leads to his
rebirth or transformation. He then returns to his mundane world, but changed and perhaps
bearing a gift from the gods or a lesson for his people. Marcie said the story had been
repeated with variations hundreds of times throughout human history, and now some
storytellers were deliberately using it; she mentioned Star Wars as the best known recent
example of retelling this old myth.
Ben wondered aloud at their own stories when he heard all this. Perhaps both of them had
just faced their own personal challenge or crisis, he speculated. If so, perhaps they were
already reborn into their new lives, wiser and under the blessing of a supernatural power.
Though he struggled to explain this thought to Marcie, she seemed to understand what he
meant.
“I guess that’s why the hero’s journey holds our attention. We can see echoes of our own
lives in it, and use it to make sense of the difficult things that happen to us. There is another
point of view though, that doesn’t need us to fit an epic drama or be subject to supernatural
powers. It goes like this, ‘Shit just happens.’”
Ben laughed aloud at this. He realised then that his breathing had gone back to normal
while Marcie had been talking. They had been causing a bit of an obstruction on the path,
with most people just walking around them. Some had tutted, a few had asked if they could
help. But Marcie had ignored or politely declined all of them. Now that he said he was
better, she seemed very pleased. They helped pull each other upright, and Marcie stamped
her feet, noting without complaint that her legs had gone to sleep.
The weather had become a bit more overcast, so they agreed to head straight back home.
Once they had crossed the bridge, the streets of houses they passed seemed drab and
mundane after the hint of natural magic in the Dene, especially as the grey sky seemed to
make both Marcie and Ben feel colder. They were glad when they got back to her flat safely,
kicking their shoes off and getting out of their jackets. Marcie volunteered to make a brew,
insisting that Ben should rest on the sofa.
When she brought the mug of sweet tea through from the kitchen for him, with one of her
own, she finally noticed the flowers in the jug on the table. “Oh thank you!” she exclaimed
in surprise as she put the hot drinks down, “You shouldn’t have though. You know we’re
passed all that, don’t you? You said you were grateful for the help I gave you, but now
we’re a proper couple, I think. We’re in this together going forwards, as a team. Unless this
is your way of saying thank you for last night,” she said provocatively, sitting down so close
to him now that their hips touched, “And I thought the going rate for a job like that was
more than the cost of a bunch of flowers these days.”
“No!” Ben protested, “None of that crossed my mind. It was just an impulse, a man buys
flowers for a woman he likes. Anyway it’s also selfish, because I’m here to enjoy them too.
But yes, you know I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done for me, just like you say.
But what we did last night, what you did for me, well, I didn’t think that thing was just a
favour. I thought,” he hesitated, but then let himself finish, “I thought we did it as lovers. So
that means I’ve said in now. And if I’m your lover, Marcie, and I feel deep down that I am,
that means I’ve fallen in love with you, deeply. It does seem crazy to say it, but I’m sure of it.
I love you,” he finished simply.
“Oh Ben,” Marcie said with earnestness as she leant close to him and gripped his hands, “I
shouldn’t tease so much. I’ve rushed you into talking about something that is still so tender
and delicate. But I think you know I agree, I really do strongly feel the same way. It is crazy
how quickly we’ve come to this, but each time is different, right? Each time you fall in love,
each time you make a new intimate relationship, you have to build everything from scratch.
You can’t assume anything will be the same as it was with anyone who went before. So
what I’m trying to say is that the freshness, the new beginning, the foundation built from an
honest friendship, it all feels so good to me. And that’s on top of me fancying the pants off
you too, quite literally if you’ll let me get away with it! So though I know what you mean
about it feeling almost dangerous to say it, I’ll say it anyway as well. I love you too, Ben.”
She dropped his hand to put her arm around his shoulder, then pulled him in for a slow kiss,
their mouths ajar, tongues lapping gently against each other. Ben raised his hand to caress
Marcie, and he found himself placing it naturally upon her breast, just to gently cup it in
their intimacy. But Marcie broke away from him just slightly at this. She did not pull back
though, and made no move to shoo Ben’s hand off her chest. Instead she just cradled his
head in her hands and looked deep into his eyes through her glasses.
“You really worried me on the walk, you know,” she said in a low soulful voice as he
dropped his hand voluntarily to her knee, “Until you make your doctor’s appointment and
find out what the score is, you’ve really got to take care of yourself, okay? I deeply wish this
could go further, right now, that you could wind yourself up by fondling my boob for real,
that we could both take our clothes off and rub ourselves together, that you could put your
rod against my pussy just like we wanted to last night, that we could just fuck and fuck and
fuck! I want us to feel this new love deep in our bodies, to the roots of our being! But I fear
for you, for your untrustworthy lungs. So I think we’re both just going to have to wait to see
what the experts say. What we did last night seemed to go smoothly, didn’t it? So let’s just
keep practising all that wet heavy petting in a calm and relaxed way, making our love real
and physical just in that way for now. Deal?”
“Deal,” he agreed, sincerely. He felt that he understood what was at stake, even if the image
that popped into his head was actually the comic character of Death that he’d been reading
about in Terry Pratchett’s book. But he had been more than satisfied with the way that she
had found to bring him to orgasm, and would be very glad to practice that regularly. Yet he
had been very excited to hear her describe a raw lustful physical passion that mirrored his
own. So he decided to just say, “But we can talk about it, right?”
“Mother of God, yes! That’s good too,” Marcie agreed, dropping her hands and reaching for
the cooling mugs of tea, “You’ve been reading my Hot Sex book, right? That must say it’s
good to talk to your partner about your intimacy.”
Ben agreed, then she seemed to pause to think as she sipped her tea, before saying, “Hey,
I’ve got an idea. We’ll say it’s a bit like those teenager’s games of Truth or Dare or
whatever they were called, but here are the rules. We take it in turns to ask questions, you
know, about sex things, but we both have to give an honest truthful answer to each
question. Agreed? Okay, you go first.”
“Okay,” Ben agreed, mentally reeling a little at how fast Marcie’s mind worked before going
on, “Well, this is something I wanted to ask you, from what I read in that book, but I guess it
is very personal,” he began hesitantly.
“Just ask it, as long as you’re ready to answer it too. Them’s the rules.”
“Erm, do you masturbate?” he finally managed to ask.
“Erm, yes,” Marcie answered immediately, teasingly imitating his hesitation, “Easy. I
assume you do too?”
“Aye, yes, I do,” Ben answered, feeling a little awkward.
“Okay, my turn. How many times a week, on average, would you say you masturbated?”
Ben gave it a little thought before saying, “Honestly? Maybe three or four. I kid myself that I
don’t need to do it that often, that once at the weekend is enough, but I’ll have a thought or
get a hard on, then I’ll give in to temptation.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I guess I’m about the same, on a good week. Friday night, Sunday morning,
then one on Wednesday evening for a mid-week treat are all routine for me when I’m in the
mood. Then I might fit at least one more in somewhere. It depends on my cycle though, my
menstrual cycle, you know?”
“Aye, I get it. That’s reassuring, Marcie. Thank you for sharing,” Ben said, feeling as if they
were really opening up to each other in their honesty now. He was actually quite surprised
that she played with herself as often as that, but he felt it certainly wasn’t his place to pass
judgment or even an opinion on her private habits.
“I don’t want you to think that my period stops all that though,” she went on, “And it’s true
that a nice deep vaginal orgasm can really help to relieve the menstrual cramps, but it’s just
that the mess makes it all a bit more of a smelly nuisance, you must understand. You don’t
think I’m depraved, do you? That I’m over-sexed or dirty, to just keep masturbating, almost
every other day?”
“No, absolutely not!” Ben rushed to reassure her, “Like you said last night, this stuff isn’t
dirty. And like the book says, it’s healthy and natural to masturbate, and it helps your sex
life with your partner too.”
“Well I hope so, now that you’re my partner, Ben. Anyway, it’s your turn to ask a question,”
she reminded him.
“Erm, do you use a toy, like a vibrator?”
“Well yes, I often do. They’re very reliable, and they can help me to go more than once. You
know multiple orgasms are easier for girls, right? But I still just use my fingers too
sometimes,” she paused, then confessed, “Like last night, after you’d gone to sleep.”
“What?” Ben laughed in surprise, “Really?”
“Hey, that’s another question, and you’ve not answered your own yet. Do you use a toy?
They do them for boys, right? Not just those jokes of blow-up dolls, but things to put your
rod in that feel comfortable. I’m sure I remember reading about them in Cosmo.”
“Aye, I know they exist, but I don’t have one.” He thought for a moment before going on,
“Sometimes I make a little nest in the pillows though, something to lie on top of with a
space for my rod. I can come that way, hands-free, moving like it’s sex in the missionary
position. I guess that’s a toy, a substitute vagina, in a way.”
“Can you show me how you would do it?” Marcie asked spontaneously, seemingly with
genuine curiosity.
“Is that your question?” Ben asked.
“Yes, it can be. You don’t have to get him out, just see if you can give me the general idea of
how it works with these cushions.”
So Ben got up to make a little pile of the sofa’s cushions on the rug. He showed Marcie the
narrow space he’d made between two of them, explaining that he’d put a towel and some
tissues in there. Then he put a third cushion over the little channel, saying that real pillows
were firmer, which might be important when he pressed his weight against them. He
described how he might use a fourth pillow or perhaps something else like the bundled
duvet higher up to support his stomach and chest. However, he did not describe that he
might wrap this substitute woman’s body in any worn clothes that his girlfriend of the
moment had left lying around, cuddling up to the fragrances that his warm body revived in
his simulated passion.
Feeling a little self-conscious, he went on to lie face down on the rug, propped on his
elbows, pushing his hips and groin against the pile of cushions. “So my rod is stuck in the
space I made now, and I just move like this,” he explained, thrusting his hips rhythmically,
imitating stereotypical actions of sexual intercourse. He stopped moving to conclude his
account, “Things can move around. It might need a rebuild halfway through, but normally I
come quite quickly. It can feel good, using my whole body somehow, rather than just my
hand.”
Ben had been intermittently feeling quite turned on since Marcie had come to sit with him
on the sofa, especially when he’d touched her breast as they’d kissed, and then when she’d
mentioned her orgasms too. Now, even though he was fully clothed, his roleplay of
masturbating with the cushions had begun to cross over into the real thing. He’d felt his
erection respond to the grinding rhythm, and if Marcie had asked him to carry on with the
demonstration for her, he felt sure that he would have managed to ejaculate right there and
then on the living room floor, pressing himself more vigorously against her cushions and
her rug until he made a damp puddle in his jeans.
“Yes, I can imagine,” Marcie said in response to his statement of how it felt as she held out a
hand to help him to his feet.
As he put the cushions back on the sofa the sat down, he asked her hopefully, “Do our rules
mean that you have to show me now too? Show me a position you use to masturbate, I
mean.”
“Yes, I can do that if you want,” she said with a sly smile, grabbing a cushion as she stood
up. “Let me lie down with this as my pillow. Well, I just spread my legs really. Last night,
you were lying against me, so I was on my side like this,” she explained as she lay down on
the rug facing him, smiling up in a coquettish way with the cushion under her head, “And I
guess I make a kind of diamond with my knees.”
She demonstrated this, bending both legs, putting her heels together and raising one knee
up the air while the other pointed towards Ben. Her hands went between her legs, over her
hidden vulva, “Ooh, I hope I’m not going to rip the stitches in these trousers,” she said,
before allaying her own worries, “It should be fine, their quite baggy.”
Ben had noticed how her fingers had traced the stretched seam in the crotch of her
trousers and now lingered there. He found it very easy to imagine how Marcie’s position
would spread her labia wide and how her fingertips could just as easily have been running
along her inner lips. He wondered if she too had crossed the line from merely acting out
this position to actual auto-erotic stimulation, right there in front of him as it were.
“If I was on my own in the bed though, I would just lie on my back like this,” Marcie went
on, rolling over to stare up the ceiling. Both her knees were raised in the air now whilst her
feet were still together, but she seemed to be relaxed, letting her thighs’ own weight splay
them widely apart. Ben saw that her legs did indeed make a diamond shape that must have
been stretching her genitals open. Again, his imagination was fired up, helping his mind to
easily visualise what he could not see under Marcie’s clothes. The dark the slippery mouth
of her vagina must have been parted, gaping open in her position, whilst her fingers, which
only stroked the fabric of her trousers now, could have easily slipped inside.
But the dreamy moment was suddenly interrupted by a sound of children shouting just
outside the living room window. “Oh not again!” Marcie exclaimed, “Their bad timing is
exquisite. It’s Shona’s kids,” she explained as she rolled over and picked herself up off the
floor. “I’m sorry, we’d better put a pause on this. I’ll pop out and see if Shona needs a
hand.” Marcie leant over him, putting her arms on the back of the sofa, still smiling. As she
brought her face to his, Ben raised his lips for a peck before she sensuously promised, “I’ll
show you more later, if you like.”
“Yes please,” was all Ben could say before she made for the back door to unbolt and open it,
slipping on a pair of beach-shoes that she evidently left by the door for just such occasions.
Ben rose to get his own shoes, then followed her out into the backyard, which looked a bit
brighter now, with patches of blue breaking up the overcast sky. As he stood in the yard, he
realised that a narrow iron staircase ran down the side of the bathroom extension from the
upstairs kitchen. Two young boys with mops of black hair were standing in the open
doorway, squabbling over something.
“Hi Shona,” Marcie called out, “Everything alright?”
Shona appeared behind the boys, a baby in her arms, “Oh hiya Marcie, Ben. Sorry to disturb
you twos, but could I kick the boys down to the yard for a bit? They’re climbing the walls.”
“No problem, any time, it’s your space too,” Marcie replied, but the older boy was already
pounding down the precipitous stairs, followed closely but unsteadily by his smaller
brother.
“Marcie, Marcie, I’ve got a plane! But he’s not allowed it. He’s got to play with baby Lego!”
“I wanna go!” his little brother wailed.
“Ben, this is Cal, and this is Zain. Boys, this is my friend Ben. Say hello,” Marcie said, sparing
a glance and a small wave toward Shona, as if to say she had it under control.
“Hello Cal, hello Zain,” Ben said, squatting down to get closer to their eye level. He felt that
he’d had to make a crashing change of his mental gears, but he also felt happy falling into
the habits that he had learnt with his much younger cousins. “Is that your plane? May I see
it? I’ll hold it safe.”
“Daddy started it, but I finished it,” Cal said, holding the blocky Lego construction up in
both hands.
Zain made a swipe for it, but Marcie intervened firmly, “No Zain, Cal’s showing it to Ben.
Why don’t you get your Lego to show him too?”
“I’m going too,” Cal declared, dumping his model in Ben’s hands. “He’ll get the wrong one.”
As the boys chased back up their stairs, Cal pushing and prodding his little brother from
behind, Marcie looked with amusement at Ben holding the toy plane. “Not quite what you
had in mind for an afternoon with your new girlfriend?”
“No, but it’s fine. I’ve got cousins, from Mum’s side, a bit older than these two now. And I
loved Lego too when I was a boy.”
“Hence the model ships,” Marcie observed.
“Aye, probably,” Ben agreed, raising his eyes to the sound of the boys coming out of their
flat again. Zain was clutching something to his chest protectively and Cal was needling him
as they clumped down.
“Careful on those stairs, boys,” Marcie warned them, perhaps trying to break up the
argument as well as keep them safe, “Watch where you’re putting your feet.”
“I got a nee-naw!” the smaller boy cried, running clumsily towards them once he’d cleared
the bottom step, holding out a sturdy toy fire engine.
Ben found himself squatting on his haunches again, balancing the crude plane in one hand
and the fire engine in the other, trying to make admiring remarks about both. Marcie
persuaded Zain to show them how to drive his vehicle, and as he pushed it around on the
rough concrete noisily, Ben focused on Cal’s model.
He could see where the adult’s sturdy plan for the brick fuselage and plate wings had given
way to the boy’s chaotic additions. Cal was eagerly pointing out all the plane’s supposed
features to him, but struggling with his frustration as pieces kept falling off. Ben suggested
they sacrifice part of the tail so that he could fix the poorly secured parts in place better. He
then performed the swooshability test for Cal, pretending that the plane was zooming
through the air. Cal picked up on the idea fast, stomping around the yard with the model
held high, gleefully taking the plane through banked dives and climbs.
Ben had straightened up to lean against the living room’s outside window ledge with
Marcie, watching both boys in their active play. If either seemed about to lose interest, one
or other of them would only need to say an encouraging word, then they’d quickly get back
into their imaginary worlds of aviation and emergency response.
Marcie gripped his hand. “Shona says they call me auntie Marcie, you know. Do you think
you’ll be uncle Ben now?”
“That sounds like a brand of rice,” Ben mocked, but he found that at some level he was very
pleased by the idea. “I could live with it, though. Do you babysit for them then?”
“I don’t, but I guess I could. Would you be okay with that, if I disappeared upstairs for an
evening? Or would it be okay if the boys brought their toys downstairs sometimes to give
Shona a bit of peace?”
“I guess so. I had not really thought how it might work.”
“Well, we don’t need to say anything to Shona or Ali now. It can just be another thing that
might come up in our exciting uncertain future.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, watching the boys play around the cracked concrete and neglected
washing line. “We should talk to them about fixing up this yard too, sometime. The kids
might not need a pocket garden oasis, but they deserve better than this.”
They noticed Shona stepping out of her kitchen door above them. “Have they been alright?”
she called down.
“No trouble at all, Shona,” Marcie replied happily.
“Well, thanks for looking out for them. It gave me a chance to feed Fiona and finish getting
their scran ready. Boys! Tea time! Come back inside now.” They seemed reluctant to leave,
but still obeyed their mother with only token grumbling, Cal pushing his brother ahead of
him back up the steps. “Thanks again,” Shona said with a final farewell wave, backing into
her kitchen once the boys were inside.
Marcie pulled Ben inside to her kitchen too, but immediately pinned him against the door
as he closed and bolted it, her arms reaching up around his neck. Ben let himself be pushed
back against the door, putting his hands to her waist, feeling her warm skin through the
thin fabric of her blouse. She kissed him, teasingly at first, but with increasing hunger,
pushing her tongue into his mouth, sucking on his when he did the same. He had slipped
down against the door a little, bracing himself against it as his legs stuck out, Marcie
pushing herself against him between his thighs. They had both got their hands at the back
of each other’s head, Ben pushing his fingers through the web of hairgrips and ties that
Marcie used to keep her hair neat for work.
As they pulled away panting, Ben dropped his hands to her waist again, resting them on her
hips where her blouse was tucked in, pulling her against him. He was already reassuringly
hard for her now, and he guessed that she could feel it as he pressed against her lower belly.
“Oh Ben, wouldn’t it be sexy for you to take me now, in the kitchen? I’m so hungry for you!
But I know we mustn’t. We’re going to have to cool down again, aren’t we?”
“Yes, you’re right,” Ben agreed, leaning back to stroke her cheek with the back of his
fingers now.
“Why don’t we get on with satisfying our other appetites?” Marcie asked practically, “We
can have an early tea like the kids upstairs, then we can settle down with the whole evening
ahead of us. We could work through some of those things that you were reading about in
Tracy Cox’s book, in a nice calm way, just like I did for you last night. We’ll satisfy our
sexual cravings very slowly and gently whilst we keep on sharing what we enjoy,
explaining and showing each other, just like we were earlier, but maybe with fewer clothes
and more bodily fluids!”
“That sounds very good. I’m definitely ready to eat early, then turn in early.”
“You make it sound as if you’re genuinely tired,” she said with a sympathetic pout,
mirroring his gesture by stroking his cheek, “I bet you do still need to catch up on your
sleep, you poor thing, don’t you?”
“Maybe. I didn’t lie in after you left for work. I wasn’t going to get back to sleep then. But
you know that’s not what I meant by an early night. I think any man can always find a bit
more energy, if sex is on the cards.”
Marcie laughed lightly, then leant forwards to give him a peck on the lips before pulling
right back. “Good. I hope to find out, even if it’s just for hand sex, not proper sex, if those
aren’t just old-fashioned ideas.”
“Well I think it’s still proper sex,” Ben said, trying to convince himself, “You saw the way I
went off last night. My rod seemed to think it was the real thing.”
“Hmm, yes, but you’re making me hungry again in all the wrong ways! What’s on the actual
menu for tonight? Did you mention chicken curry?”
“Aye, I checked you had onions and rice, then I got a jar of Tikka Masala and some chicken
breasts.”
“Of course,” Marcie said, suggestively raising one eyebrow.
“I got some yoghurt too. We can make the sauce go further with that.”
“No vegetables though?” she asked.
“No. I didn’t think. Maybe I’m too used to just protein and carbs. What would go with it?”
“Well, if it’s okay with you, we can just put some frozen peas in.”
“Aye, I’ll do that if you have them. I bought some wine too. I wasn’t sure if you’d want a
drink.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like the milestone event that last night was, but it might be nice to
have a glass. We shouldn’t get into the habit of getting through a bottle every night though,
I guess. Shall I start getting things ready, chopping the onions and getting a pan on for
them?”
“No, leave it to me. I’m serious about taking my turn to cook, even if it’s nothing posh. I’ve
got to learn my way around your kitchen too. Could you just pour us the wine instead?
Maybe you could choose some music too.”
Chapter 10
Marcie got two glasses out, then went through to the living room to look for a CD, but while
she was through there, the phone rang. Ben hadn’t heard the old-fashioned sound of the
flat’s landline before, but Marcie was obviously used to it. He heard her say, “Hello?” then
she slipped into a mysterious foreign language. He realised that she was speaking Maltese
now, with all the rapid fluency of someone born to it, and he guessed she may be talking to
her grandmother. He glanced through to see she’d played out the phone’s lead and taken it
over to the sofa, where she was reclining as if ready for a long chat.
He busied himself with putting the pans on, weighing the rice, chopping the onions and
slicing the chicken into strips. He opened the back door as he started frying to let the steam
and cooking smells out, but he could still hear Marcie talking energetically and
enthusiastically over the sizzling sounds. It seemed that at one moment she would be
channelling angry indignation, then at the next laughing at the chattering gossip that she
was sharing. He recognised his own name being used in the jumble of unintelligible words,
and wondered just how much Marcie did share with her Nanna. They were obviously very
close, despite living on opposite sides of Europe.
The meal was almost ready by the time that Marcie hung up, repeating words like “saħħa,”
and the more familiar “addiju” as Ben looked around the doorway to see her bringing the
handset closer to the receiver.
She came back through to the kitchen looking energised and a little flushed. “That was my
Nanna,” she explained. “She sends you her love, and is glad you’re getting better.” Marcie
automatically went back to what she’d started, getting the wine from the fridge for their
glasses, then pouring some water to drink with their meal too as Ben served it up. “Ooh,
that’s enough rice for me,” she confirmed, then humming along to the dreamy music as she
took the drinks through.
Once Ben had closed and bolted the back door, he followed with the bowls of food and
cutlery, taking his seat. “Thank you, this smells delicious,” Marcie said, before raising her
wineglass and saying, “Saħħa!”
Ben raised his glass with a simple, “Good health!” Then, as they tucked into their meal, he
asked, “I think you used that word to say goodbye to your Nanna. Is it Maltese, then?”
“Yes, it means good health too, just like you said, and like your Gaelic phrase. So you’ve
learnt your first word in Maltese! Hmm, this is delicious by the way.”
“It’s just the Patak’s sauce,” he said self-deprecatingly, “You get on well with your Nanna
then?”
“Yes, I think we do. I sometimes wonder if she’s treating more like one of her old
girlfriends now, like the girlfriends that she had when she was my age even, gossiping away
in the post-war years. Not that I mean she’s a lesbian,” Marcie said hurriedly with an
embarrassed look, “I just meant close female friends, you know?”
“I know,” Ben reassured her, “I’d guessed that. So she knows all about me then, and
Richard too?”
“Yes, I told her everything about breaking off from that old creep, and about how we’re
getting on very well together.”
“You didn’t tell her everything, did you, like about last night?”
“Well, she knows you’re living here now, that your lungs are recovering and that you’ve
become my boyfriend, but not just in the sense of being a close male friend, you know. I’m
pretty sure that she’s joined the dots up for herself.”
“Doesn’t she mind? Isn’t she quite Catholic?”
“Yes, the church is important to her, and I think God and the saints are very real for her. But
she was a teenager in the war, you know. I guess she saw a lot of death and suffering, but
she must have also seen life and the importance of seizing opportunities for love when they
came. She seems to approve of you a great deal, when I said what you looked like, what you
did and especially when I said you were a sailor. She can understand what you do, working
with wood and on ships’ crews, in a way that she can’t for my work or my life in academia.
I also think if she were fifty years younger, I’d have to fight to keep her off you!”
“I’ll try not to dwell on that mental image,” he responded, making Marcie laugh. But he
went on pressing his point, “So she doesn’t think we’re sinners, or something?”
“I don’t know,” Marcie said, sipping her wine before digging back into her food, eating
eagerly as she went on, “I’m no Catholic now, and I don’t think my parents really were
either, though they’d go to church quite regularly, especially for Christmas, Easter,
Ascension and so on. But perhaps that was just as a connection to their childhood. There
was a little Maltese community in Manchester that got together around the church, you see.
I went to Sunday school and a youth club there, but it was more a social thing. The priests’
and the old folks’ Christianity didn’t really stick with me. But maybe if you really believe,
then you know that we’re all born into sin anyway, but that we’re all saved too, by the
crucifixion and the grace of God. So perhaps for my Nanna, we’re doing the right thing, but
just the wrong way round, and that’s just the modern way to her mind, when it’s only old
people who are still going to church.”
“So she already thinks we’re going to get married,” Ben found himself saying, “Even though
you didn’t know me on Monday morning?” He regretted speaking the thought out loud
almost immediately though. If Marcie had called their talk of love dangerous earlier, this
felt like this was even riskier territory.
But Marcie seemed unfazed, while she shovelled up the last of her meal. “I think that’s the
eternal role of a grandparent, if they’ve kept a positive outlook, isn’t it? To live in hope of
wedding bells, to perhaps even catch a glimpse of the generation that will follow, before
they depart the stage themselves. Don’t look so worried, though!” she added urgently,
gripping his hand, with a slightly panicked look in her own eyes. “That’s not what my mind
is on. I just want to have fun with you here and now, to enjoy this mysterious new
adventure that’s ahead of us, together! Though we’re just starting a new relationship, it
feels to me as if we’ve been set free. We need to find ways to soar into the open sky, ways
to fill your lungs with good fresh air again, and ways for me to let the wind blow through
the dusty library, clearing the crap away so that I can find what’s valuable again.”
“That sounds good,” Ben agreed, finishing off his own plateful.
“Oh, I also told Nanna that you’re still wearing the cross that she gave to me. She thought
that was a very good idea, that it would help her prayers work, her prayers for you to get
better I mean,” Marcie clarified, suddenly seeming a little bashful.
“How do you mean? Had she prayed for something else too?”
“Oh Ben, I’ve got to be honest with you, haven’t I? Do you remember, back in the hospital
when I first told you about her, I said there was that weird coincidence when she’d just
rung me to say that she’d lit a candle? I think I told you then that she’d prayed for my
happiness.”
“That’s not what she’d said, then?” Ben prompted as Marcie seemed to hesitate.
“She had prayed for me to find a husband,” Marcie admitted in a rush, looking down at her
hands. “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth,” she said, looking up into Ben’s eyes with
entreatment, “It means nothing though, it’s just a silly old woman thinking of herself
getting older and her granddaughter still being unmarried when every woman in Malta had
tied the knot by their twenty-first birthday in the olden days.”
“But you do also think it might mean something?”
“Oh, it’s ridiculous,” Marcie admitted, clearly in a flustered state as she reached out to grab
Ben’s hand again, “But the last few days have felt so unreal. A part of me thinks that she’s
put a spell on you, that her superstitions and her faith in the supernatural might actually
mean something. And so her special candle and prayer triggered some genuine magical
effect, making you fall across my path, literally, and making you fall in love with me. I want
to deny it all, but I’m worried you’ll suddenly come to your senses, like you’ll come out of
the trance that she’s laid on you. Then you’ll suddenly realise that I’m just a dumpy dark
librarian who you wouldn’t have looked at twice at if I hadn’t been sitting there beside
your hospital bed, clutching your hand.” As she raised her eyes to look into Ben’s, he saw
how scared and confused she suddenly seemed, with tears already welling on her dark
eyelashes.
“Marcie, come here,” Ben said, sinking to his knees and wrapping her in his arms as he
knelt before her. His heart was swelling in sympathy at seeing how upset she was, how raw
and fragile these ideas were to her, and how she trusted him so deeply that she could
expose her vulnerability to him. “You’re an exotic Mediterranean princess, profoundly
intelligent and feminine, with sexy glasses and the kindness of an angel. I love you. I didn’t
lie about that. I’m not confused or bewitched, I’m sure of it. It’s the thing that lights up the
rest of my sorry little world right now. I love you.”
“Oh Ben,” Marcie said again, sobbing against his shoulder now, “Thank you. What must you
think of me? I’m a mess. My life is a car crash.”
“No, Marcie,” he corrected her, “You’ve passed through that, remember? I have too. We
survived, and we found each other. We’re turning our backs to that now, facing the future,
breathing in its fresh air. Deal?”
“Deal,” Marcie agreed, pulling back to look into his eyes through her tear-splashed glasses
with a sad smile. He removed these tenderly and stroked her wet cheeks with the backs of
his fingers, then kissed her cheekbones and the corners of her eyes, tasting her body’s salt
on his lips. After resting against her forehead for a tender moment, he twisted his head and
gently put his parted lips to hers, unsure of how she would respond. But she proved herself
to be just as hungry as she had been before their meal, as she impulsively gripped his head
and pressed her tongue and lips urgently against his.
He could taste the tikka sauce and wine in her mouth, as well as the saltiness of her tears,
or possibly even her running nose, as their lips slipped over each other’s, smearing across
their cheeks. But these flavours only added to his sense of her precious humanity, making
his heart yearn for her even more. He would care for her as she had cared for him, he was
sure, but more than that, their souls would nourish each other. This was what their kiss
meant to him at that moment, that they were eagerly taking in everything they could of the
other, but neither was diminished by that. Instead, by feeding on each other, they were
both growing stronger, evolving, or transcending into an unknown heavenly realm,
accessible only to the two of them.
Marcie had slipped from her own chair now to kneel on the floor against Ben, but with one
knee raised so that her thigh pressed against his hip. He was drawing her in to press her
body against his with one hand on her shoulder and the other on her round bum. Her hands
were still gripping the back of his head, her nails pushing through his hair to rake his scalp
from his crown to the back of his neck. And still they kissed with insatiable passion, Ben
hearing Marcie’s urgent breath as it bubbled through her running nose.
The track on the stereo that neither of them had been paying attention to suddenly ended,
leaving a silence that made them pause. Marcie pulled Ben’s head back by his hair, still
tangled in her fingers, to look at him. “Holy Mary, I honestly feel that I have the strength in
my hands to literally rip your clothes off right now! I can hear your t-shirt tearing in my
mind. I would tear my own clothes off too, popping these stupid buttons, sending them
flying across the room, digging my nails into my knickers to rip them apart too, and I would
mount you. We would be rutting like animals, right here and now on the rug, with the mess
of my tears and my snot all over my face, the dirt and sweat of a day spent pounding
around Newcastle on our skin. And we’d rub your fresh semen and my slippery juices into
all that animal mix! But I must be stronger still and resist, to let us both calm down and to
save your lungs.”
Ben listened to Marcie’s speech with spellbound attention, excited and awestruck by her
expression of sexual energy and her personal desire for him. But it made him feel humbled
and perhaps a little ashamed too, of his own selfish urges or of his medical condition. She
might genuinely be struggling to save his life once again, especially since they’d both
witnessed how narrowly he’d escaped a second attack in the Dene. “You’re right,” he said
with a reluctant sigh, finding her glasses on the table for her to put back on.
They helped each other rise to their feet, then Ben found the box of tissues, offering it to
Marcie so that she could pull one out to finally blow her nose and dab her eyes. “Let’s do
the simple things then,” he said, making a plan as they mentally dusted themselves down.
“I’ll wash up now. You could put the kettle on, or pour another glass of wine, if you want.”
“Yes, thank you, though I’ll pass on the wine,” Marcie replied, slipping her free hand into
his, “I could really do with a shower too, then I can slip into something more comfortable,
as the cliche goes. Perhaps we could resume our chat about what you’d read in Tracy Cox’s
book then. Perhaps it would be nice for me to show you some of those things we’d started
talking about too, taking it slowly in a really calm and relaxed way.”
“That sounds very good,” Ben said emphatically, gripping her hand. Marcie leaned in
towards him, raising her face to his, and Ben leant down to receive her peck on his lips.
Then she released him with a sad smile and a gentle sigh, before turning to drop the
window blind on the gathering twilight, leaving him to get on with stacking the dishes.
As Ben piled the dirty pots up in the kitchen, ran a bowl of hot soapy water and began
washing up, Marcie put a new CD on the stereo, lit a joss stick, then made the tea. “Do you
need me to dry?” she asked, holding a tea-towel.
“No, I think they’re fine stacked to drain, thanks,” he replied.
“I’ll go for my shower then,” Marcie said, hanging up the tea-towel again. Ben thought she
seemed a little hesitant, then realised what was on her mind, “I don’t have to shut the door,
you know. With you just here in the kitchen, we can still be together. I’m still a bit shy
though, at the thought of you watching me while I wash, well, while I wash my girly bits. Do
you understand?”
“It’s fine,” Ben said. He was actually quite excited at the thought of watching her wet and
nude in the shower, getting all soapy, but he was sympathetic to her modesty too, “Just
leave the door open a crack, I promise not to peep. We can keep talking then, if you want.”
“Thank you for understanding,” she said, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek while
his hands were still in the sink, then disappearing into the bathroom.
He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she undressed, then a clear sound of gushing
water that he realised was her peeing, before the click and the much greater rush of water
that was the shower starting. “This laundry is getting quite full,” he heard Marcie shout,
more loudly than was necessary, “How would you feel about putting a load on while I’m at
work tomorrow morning?”
“Aye, will do, no bother at all,” Ben replied, “Separate light and dark, wash at forty, does
that sound about right?”
“Yes, there’s a mixed load cycle. Leave anything of mine you’re not sure about, but my
work blouses can all go through,” she said over the splashing water. “There’s a drying rack
in the hallway cupboard, or try putting it outside if the weather looks okay and Shona’s not
filled it up the line. Watch out though, because it’s a bit droopy and wonky.”
“I can cope with that, with all my experience,” Ben joked, and he heard Marcie chuckle at
the double entendre too. He’d finished and drained the washing up bowl now, but she
seemed to be taking a while. He guessed she may be washing her hair again. He imagined
her struggling to get the knots out that he may have inadvertently tangled into it with his
fingers when they were kissing. He could imagine her naked with arms raised, lathering her
scalp with her fingertips, the shampoo running down her glossy breasts. But he was good
to his word, and deliberately avoided trying to catch a peek of her through the ajar door.
As he finished wiping around the sink, he called out, “I’m taking my tea through, to sit on
the sofa now.”
“Okay, I’ll be finished in a moment,” Marcie replied.
Ben settled down with his book, picking up Mort rather than finding Hot Sex again, but he
found it a struggle to concentrate. He thought of Marcie, her enthusiasm and her fragility,
and felt his heart aching to support and encourage her, to let her expand into her true self.
He thought too of the way that they had managed to skate around the idea of marriage. It
seemed the topic had come up easily, with neither of them being too rattled by it. It also
seemed as if both of them had at least imagined the possibility of their new love turning
into their happily ever after story, even though they weren’t realistically moving towards
that yet. But then he thought of what they had actually done or planned to do together - the
shopping, the washing, looking after the neighbours’ kids, taking an afternoon walk in the
park, going to a doctor’s appointment. These seemed like exactly the everyday things that a
married couple would do, and they had fallen into doing them together so naturally.
Ben had been aware of the shower stopping. Now Marcie came through from the bathroom
with her body and hair wrapped in towels just as they’d been last night. She smiled warmly
at him, then saw what he was reading. “Oh, you’ve gone back to Terry Pratchett. I thought
you might be reading more from Tracy Cox now.”
“I don’t know,” Ben confessed, “It seemed a little seedy somehow, reading your book about
sex.” At that moment he also felt self-conscious for sitting on Marcie’s sofa fully clothed
while she was wrapped just in a towel. It almost felt as if he were a voyeur, ready to watch
a striptease.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided, sitting down next to him, their knees pressed together. “You’ve
already said it, we’re lovers now, and honest with each other too. We’re sharing our most
intimate parts, in our thoughts as well as our bodies,” she went on, raising her hand to
stroke his cheek as she spoke, “Behind these closed doors there’s nothing sordid or
shameful or indecent about our sexual expression. Sex is a fun and positive part of what
makes a healthy relationship. Sure, it’s primal and sometimes strange. We may well have
surprises for each other yet, we might even surprise ourselves if we start burrowing
around in the neglected parts of our psyches. I expect it’s quite likely one of us may
sometimes come up with an idea that the other isn’t so keen on. But I hope we can at least
voice and hear those ideas, even if we find the other just says, ‘No thanks,’ and then we
move on.” She patted his knee, then rose to her feet again, clutching her towel under her
armpit. “Come on, where did you put it? I probably need to revise what she said too. Top
left?”
Ben agreed, still feeling a little unsure of sharing absolutely all his sexual thoughts and
urges with Marcie. She had found the book now though and pulled it down, seeing his
bookmark and saying, “Is this where you got to? How long were you reading it for?”
“I got back from the shops about eleven, and I found it soon after. Then I was reading until
you rang, around twelve-thirty.”
“Maybe an hour and a half then?” Marcie calculated, sitting down next to him again. He
thought she seemed a bit surprised, and wondered if she was realising just how slow his
reading was. “Well, you’ve got plenty still to get through,” she said non-judgmentally,
flicking through the chapters, “But you can probably skip the bits on dating, making the
first move and sexually transmitted diseases. I think we’ve already covered those. But I’m
sorry now that I’ve thrown out all my old Cosmo’s. You could have read some of the more
concise, less salacious articles in there. Maybe I could help to find some good bits for you in
this book and fold down the page corners so you don’t have to plough through the whole
thing?”
“That sounds good,” Ben admitted.
“Oh, listen to me!” she exclaimed, “I’m wrapped in nothing but a towel, alone with my hot
new boyfriend, and I still end up playing the helpful librarian. I’m sorry. I’ll go to the
bedroom to dry my hair and peruse my nightwear, then I’ll come back to see if we can pick
up where we left off earlier with our sexy chat. Sound good? Oh, and are you going for a
shower too, or did you just want to sit tight with one of these books?”
“Aye, I’ll have a shower now. I’ve not really got nightwear myself though.”
“Perhaps I won’t let you move on from the wrapped-in-a-towel stage, then,” Marcie said
with a cheeky smile as she rose from the sofa and made for the bedroom.
Ben picked up the Hot Sex book that Marcie had left lying on the sofa. He flipped through
the first few pages to find the table of contents, then turned to the chapter titled Sexual
Etiquette to confirm that it was about dating. He was amazed that Marcie had managed to
get a feel for the book’s topics so quickly, then determined which parts would be
unimportant for him, or to them both. He knew that she had read it herself, but it had
sounded as if that had been a while ago and she’d forgotten much of it.
Hearing the muffled sound of Marcie’s hairdryer brought him back to the moment. He rose
to his feet, set both books aside on the table, then picked up his empty mug to drop beside
the sink as he went through to the bathroom. Thinking of Marcie’s shower earlier, he left
the door ajar as he undressed, then got under the warm water.
A few minutes later, as he was rinsing the soap off his body, he was a little startled by the
sound Marcie’s voice almost beside him at the door, softly saying, “Knock knock.”
“Come in,” Ben said.
“Are you sure?” she asked, even though she was already sneaking around the door and
pulling it to behind her. “It seems a bit unfair when I wouldn’t let you watch earlier, when I
was in the shower.”
Ben stopped the water and moved around the shower’s glass panel to see her clearly. She
was wearing a plain white nightdress with a thick band of embroidered lace trim around its
low square neckline and broad shoulder straps. He noticed that the fabric seemed to be
gathered in tiny pleats below this band, allowing the thin cotton to fall loosely over her bust
straight down the hemline, which was well below her knees. Just as when she was wrapped
in a towel, the warm colour of her tan skin seemed enriched by the nightwear’s brilliant
white. She had brushed out her dried hair again too, so its glossy waves made that
wonderful dark nimbus around her upturned and hopeful face.
“It’s different for boys, maybe,” Ben said in response to her comment even as he admired
her, “We’re proud to show off whatever we can, whenever we can get away with it, I
guess.”
“Well, you’ve got a lot to be proud of,” Marcie said with a dreamy smile, looking down at
his exposed genitals as she handed him his towel. After moments of excitement all through
the day, and especially this evening, Ben felt that his penis had settled into a kind of relaxed
enlarged state, filled with blood but not erect. It had been long when he’d washed it in the
shower, and though it had briefly risen when he’d popped back his foreskin to rinse around
its head, it had softened again now.
Yet the sight of Marcie in her nightdress had once again stirred something in him. Perhaps
it was the wide expanse of speckled skin exposed across her clavicles and chest, or the way
that her loose hanging breasts rose below the light fabric, or simply the subtle scent of her
clean hair and skin. Or perhaps the stirrings came from deeper associations, of an ideal
clean and feminine purity dressed in an ecclesiastical surplice, ready to be defiled by the
wild pagan lust of his naked male body. Whatever it was, his arousal was returning firmly
now that he had stepped out of the shower, and there was no hiding it from Marcie.
“You look lovely in that nightdress,” he said weakly.
“Thank you, though I know it’s not as revealing as you might have hoped. I’m sorry I’m still
a bit prudish about letting you see me undressed too,” Marcie said in idle chatter, leaning
back on her hands against the bathroom door. Ben wondered if her light manner covered
the hunger that she’d spoken of earlier, which still seemed to be in her eyes as her gaze
kept falling to his manhood. He could do nothing about the way that it poked out and
bobbed around as he dried himself. He even wondered if she was sitting on her hands to
stop herself from trying to grab it, as he vividly remembered her doing earlier in the
morning.
“It’s nice to think of your eyes on me, in a way,” she went on, “To feel that I am the object of
your desire. But there’s still a critical voice in my mind when I look at myself in the mirror,
and perhaps I’m worried that you might hear that voice too.”
“You can ignore that voice, ignore those worries. You’re beautiful, and my inner voice is
yelling the truth of that. You’re a feminine goddess, the ideal form, like those old statues,
but real, living and warm.”
“I think that could be the voice of your rod. No, you don’t need to wrap him up straight
away,” she said as Ben began tying his towel around his waist, “He wants you to tuck him
away inside my pussy, and he’ll tell you to say anything at all if it encourages you to help
him do that.”
“He wants me to give you a hug now, I think, while I’m naked, to press him up to your clean
nightdress,” Ben confessed, letting the towel drop.
“That’s okay,” Marcie replied, “We can let him cuddle up between us a bit.” She held her
arms out and Ben stepped forwards into them. He held her, savouring the feeling of the soft
pleated cotton and the warmth of Marcie’s skin beneath, brushing the bare skin of his
abdomen and his upright member. He couldn’t really get his arms around her, with her
back still pressed to the bathroom door, as his had been in the kitchen earlier, but he
cradled her head in his hands as she buried her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder.
She was running her hands over his back, then caressing his skin with the tips of her nails,
and then clutching his buttocks. He bent his head down to bury his nose in her brushed hair,
inhaling its clean scent deeply as he felt himself reach a stiff rigidity against her. He raised
his hips to extenuate the sensation, and luxuriated in the feeling of his glans emerging of its
own accord from his foreskin.
“Hmm, with our height difference,” Marcie murmured against him, “With your long rod and
my droopy boobs, you’re almost reaching them with him, aren’t you? Perhaps you could
put him between them, like you do with your pillows, rubbing against me to make yourself
come across my chest that way. That would be the original titty-fuck, I guess, giving me the
pearl necklace as I think it’s colloquially known.”
Ben felt excited by this idea and leant back a little, pushing his hands against the door
above Marcie’s head and rising on tiptoes to see his glossy red head pressed into the
diaphanous white pleats of her nightshirt. He shifted his shaft sideways a little, and realised
its head was indeed pressing into the soft cushion of her breast. He rubbed it against her,
again feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin cotton against his sensitive frenulum.
He imagined her nipple just there, rubbing him underneath his glans, and he felt a dizzy
rush as if he was already close to ejaculation.
“Stop! Slow down, Ben. I didn’t mean right now! We’ve got all night,” Marcie said urgently,
pushing the flat of her hand against his chest. He stepped back, realising only now that he
was panting with his urgent arousal. He saw his penis, stretching up with its banana curve
at its fullest wooden extent, twitching involuntarily. He also saw how her clean nightshirt
seemed a little crumpled over the mound of her breast where he’d been pushing himself
against her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I was getting carried away.”
“It’s okay,” she replied tenderly, lifting her hand to his cheek, “You know I’m hungry for it
too. But maybe you’d better wrap that towel around yourself after all. I’ll take you back to
the sofa where we can be a bit more relaxed.”
Ben had to back off further to let Marcie open the door. He quickly tugged his foreskin over
his glans as he scooped his towel up and wrapped it around his waist, then he let Marcie
give him a smiling peck on the lips before she led him by the hand to the cosy living room.
Chapter 11
They slumped down onto the sofa together, with Marcie cuddling up under Ben’s arm. As
she rested her soft hair on his shoulder, she said, “You know, I don’t think I’ve yet seen
your rod, little Roddie O, when he’s not aroused. He’s not always been as long and firm as
he was just now, but even after he’d spent his load last night, he still seemed a bit
tumescent. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re priapic, like one of those satyrs or fauns from
classical mythology, chasing those dryads and nymphs with their goaty pizzles always hard
and upright.”
“I’m not,” Ben told her, “I feel turned on when I’m naked with you, I guess.”
“Well, long may it last. Speaking of fauns, though, my inner librarian has just been
reminded of something. Did you read the Narnia books when you were young, The Lion, the
Witch and the Wardrobe and so on?”
“It rings a bell, but I don’t think so.”
“Their author was a friend of Tolkien, who wrote Lord of the Rings. If you liked those films,
maybe you’d like the other’s books. I loved them as a girl. They’re written for children,
they’re a bit old-fashioned and somewhat Christian, but I reread them quite recently and
there’s a lot for the adult reader in them too. They’re better than the Harry Potter books
that lots of grown-ups seem to take pride in reading these days. Sorry, that’s a completely
irrelevant and distracting tangent, but remind me later, Narnia, okay?”
“Okay,” Ben agreed, wondering at everything that was in Marcie’s mind, but glad she’d
thought of sharing this childhood love with him.
“Oh, I guess I’m struggling to get back to how we were carrying on before our tea. I’m sorry.
It was so easy then. You asked me about masturbation, and I showed you. I think when I
was lying on the floor in my trousers earlier, touching myself, I had actually started doing it
for real. I felt a bit slippery underneath, I think. It’s why I wanted to shower too.”
“I felt the same, pressing on those cushions in front of you,” Ben honestly admitted.
“But now I’m all shy!” Marcie said with exasperation, looking up into Ben’s eyes. “If I lay
down now and opened my legs, you’d see everything. I know that’s the whole idea, in a
way, that I share my pussy with you now that we’re lovers, but I’m hesitating instead of
just getting on with it.”
“That’s okay. Like you said, we’ve got lots of time. Also I don’t want to rush you. I meant to
say it before, but I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything. Just because I slept in
your bed last night, you don’t have to share it with me again tonight,” Ben explained,
thinking of the paired stacks of pillows he’d arranged in the next-door room.
“Oh, but we’re a couple now, aren’t we? Don’t you want to share my bed?” Marcie asked
with plaintive surprise.
“No, I do want to,” Ben quickly reassured her.
“Well I want to too, so it’s decided. You can stop being silly about that. But perhaps we
could try another kind of game to help me face anything that might be worrying me, that’s
making me hold back.”
“What are you thinking of?”
“Have you ever had psychotherapy? Have you heard of Sigmund Freud? Well, he came up
with this psychoanalytic method, a way to find out what was going on in people’s minds,
even if they didn’t know it themselves because they’d buried it in their unconscious. The
way he did it was to have the patient, the client lie down on a couch like this sofa so they
were relaxed, and he’d sit in his chair at their head so he was out of sight. He’d ask
questions and listen to the client talk, drawing out what came into their minds, but he
wouldn’t give his own suggestions. He wouldn’t try to solve their problems or give them
advice, and he wouldn’t judge them. I think that was really important, so they could get
past their own internal voice of judgment or censorship too.”
“Okay,” Ben said as his understanding of what she was telling him sunk in, “So do you want
to do that now?”
“Well, we’re not doing this seriously, right? It’s just a bit of fun and a way to get us talking
about sex. But I think the honesty and the open-minded attitude is really important. It does
feel like this might be trying to run with knives, but perhaps it’s better if we learn where
the sharp edges are now rather than cutting ourselves badly later, if we were to learn
something that was a painful surprise further down the road in our relationship. Maybe I’ll
ask you a question tonight, and I will be genuinely shocked by what you say, but I’ll keep
that to myself. At the end of the day, whatever either of us says, we’re still the same people
who we were when we woke up this morning in bed together. And perhaps at the end of
the day I can promise you, whatever we learn about each other by doing this, I will still be
taking you to bed and helping you to masturbate again tonight, if you want.”
“Thank you. And if you masturbate too, will you do it while I’m still awake this time? I’d
like to be involved, if you’ll let me,” Ben risked asking.
“Of course! That’s what I’m psyching myself up for, isn’t it? So perhaps we need some rules
again. I’ll go first as the therapist and I’ll ask you ten, no, less than that, just four questions.
You answer them as openly and honestly as possible, exploring whatever comes to your
mind, and I’ll really try to avoid passing judgment or giving you my opinion. Then we’ll
swap places so you can ask me your own four questions. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ben agreed, still unsure of where Marcie might be heading with this as she stood up.
She pulled up a chair from the table and told him to lie back on the sofa. He made himself
comfortable with his knees up and his head on the cushions, feeling the slight itchiness of
the sofa’s throw on his bare back. But he was still apprehensive as she started asking her
first question in a calm voice.
“I’m not sure how to ask this,” she admitted, “But would you say that you had any
uncommon tastes in your sexual desires? Are you interested in bondage or fetish gear, for
example, or do you find it more arousing if your sexual partner dresses in a certain way? Is
there something that’s not really to do with the sex act that nonetheless makes the
activities more exciting for you if it’s present?”
“Wow!” Ben exhaled, “I see what you mean now, asking questions about hidden things.” He
paused, then went on as it became clear that Marcie was giving him space to talk, “No, I
guess. I’m not into bondage or dressing up in leather and PVC and stuff. I’ve never had a
girlfriend I did that with, who I did anything like sadomasochism with. They never dressed
up as a dominatrix or got out things like handcuffs and whips. I’ve seen pictures, and bits in
films I guess, and maybe I thought they were a bit sexy. Was it Uma Thurman who dressed
like that in The Avengers? I guess Trinity from The Matrix, Carrie-Anne Moss, had that look
too. But no, I definitely don’t seek that scene out. I don’t know about other sorts of dressing
up, if I have strong feelings about it, I mean. I’ve never really asked a girlfriend to do that
for me, though I’ve enjoyed seeing them in special underwear, I guess. I hope you don’t
mind me saying this.”
“No, it’s fine. That’s the point. You’re doing really well,” Marcie reassured him in a calm
voice, “Go on, if you can.”
“Erm, well maybe I think of women in uniform as sexy, like a policewoman or a nurse. But I
didn’t have any feelings like that about the real nurses in the hospital, thinking about it.
They were just like somebody’s mum, wearing working clothes, doing a hard job
professionally. And the nurse I found most friendly was a man anyway. They weren’t like, I
don’t know, who did it well? Maybe Jenny Agutter in American Werewolf in London.”
“Hmm, you really know those film stars, those on-screen goddesses, don’t you? Anyway,
what about anything else that isn’t really to do with sexual intercourse that still seems sexy
to you? A paraphilia, as a therapist might call it.”
“Well, I guess breasts count as that, if you think about it. They’re nothing to do with
reproduction, well, at least before the baby’s born. Nothing to do with my sperm fertilising
your eggs, so to speak,” he stumbled on, feeling embarrassed about starting this now,
especially as he’d just implied that he was thinking specifically of himself impregnating
Marcie. “But I think you know that already though, I’m very turned on by seeing them, by
seeing your naked breasts. I like touching them, and I’d like to kiss them too. Well, the truth
is I feel very turned on but it, in the past, when I’ve sucked on my girlfriend’s nipple. Maybe
that’s a bit weird, like I’m acting at being a baby.”
“No, I think that’s probably very normal for a heterosexual man. It can be a turn-on for a
woman too. The breasts and the nipples are very sensitive, and their stimulation is linked
to sexual arousal. Anyway, this isn’t about me!” she said with a little laugh, before going on,
“I’m very glad you shared all that, Ben. You’re really are taking this seriously, and I’m
honoured that you’re being so honest with me. But here’s question two, if you’re ready for
it. Here goes. Have you ever had any homosexual experiences? Or perhaps I shouldn’t label
it like that, if the gay word is a red light to straight men. Have you ever had loving feelings
for another man or done intimate things with one?”
“These questions are epic, Marcie! I’ve never spoken to a girlfriend so honestly about stuff
like this. But no, I’m not bisexual,” Ben said, then he considered, as Marcie’s silence
lengthened, recognising that perhaps he owed this a bit more thought, for her and for
himself, “I’ve never kissed or cuddled a man, only given, well, like hugs to say hello or
goodbye, or well done perhaps. I’ve never wanted to, and I don’t think I’ve ever had
dreams about it, about intimacy with another man. Maybe I’ve sometimes kind of admired
other men, close friends sometimes. Perhaps I did that more when I was younger. Maybe
they seemed more confident, to have qualities I wanted. But that was perhaps more that I
actually wanted to be them, like they were my hero, not a fancying thing.”
Ben paused, searching his memory, before going on, “I don’t think a guy has ever come on
to me. I remember a boy at school who showed us his cock, erect, you know, in the
changing room. Maybe that was his way of coming on to me, or to anyone who’d take an
interest. He got teased, but he’d keep doing it every so often. I like my own cock, my rod.
Maybe I could learn to like another man’s, in some parallel world, if I felt like I loved him. I
guess if a man hit on me now though, I’d just say, ‘Sorry, thanks, but no thanks,’ like I do if
a woman I don’t fancy hits on me. I guess some straight guys would be horrified, but I
might even feel flattered, though I can’t imagine myself ever saying yes.”
“Thank you, Ben. You really are being very thoughtful and candid about this,” Marcie said
as he found himself winding down, reassuring him by reaching over and squeezing his bare
shoulder with her warm hand. “Okay, question three’s another big one. Have you ever
visited a sex worker?”
“Okay, yes, that is an important question, isn’t it? I feel awful about admitting it, but the
truth is, there was something, just the once.”
Ben paused, then realised that Marcie was expecting him to go on. So reluctantly, he told
her the story, “I was with a crew in the Baltic, sailing. You know the Hanse, the old
merchant league? Well, this was a kind of trading route re-enactment trip. That’s not
relevant at all, is it really? Anyway, we were in Estonia, but we’d seen girls working in
Latvia too. So the whole crew was out in Tallinn, and it was getting to the end of our trip
anyway. We were drinking and the girls, the prostitutes, were flirting with us. One seemed
quite cute, and she asked me if I wanted to go with her for fifty Euros. I had the money in
my pocket and I just thought, ‘Why not?’ Well, I had my fun, and no one else on the crew
seemed too surprised, but I didn’t feel proud of myself later. I feel much more guilty about
it now, looking back. I was part of the problem of men exploiting women out there, of their
sex tourism problem, the blot on the name of Western visitors to the Baltic States. Hell, I’m
part of the worldwide problem of men exploiting women, degrading them, encouraging
them to sell their bodies for men’s gratification.”
“This isn’t about guilt, remember?” Marcie reminded him gently, “We’re just pulling these
things out to check them in the light. We can put them away again when we’re done. You’re
hardly the first man ever to give in to temptation, and it sounds like you realise now that it
was a mistake from the point of view of your ethical beliefs. Was it a while ago, and do you
want to tell me what you did? Can you tell me her name, too?”
“She called herself Baby Spice, which perhaps tells you when it was, and something about
what she looked like too. I would have been twenty. This was just before I got together with
Phoebe. As to what we actually did, well, it was the obvious. She took me to a room, I guess
like a hotel that let this kind of thing go on. There wasn’t much ceremony. She undressed
straight away, so I did too. She gave me a condom to put on, then lay on the bed with her
legs apart. She just said, ‘Are you ready?’ then I got on top of her, and she let me put it in.
I’m sorry, are you sure you wanted to hear this?” Ben asked, feeling a prickly anxiety
crawling across his skin as he stared up at the ceiling.
“It’s fine. Tell me more, if you can,” Marcie reassured him in a calm and encouraging voice.
“Well, I was a bit drunk, so it was quite a dodgy performance anyway. She had to help me,
to get my penis in the right place to find her vagina I mean. More than once, actually, as it
kept slipping out. But yeah, I paid her, I fucked her, I got dressed again, then I went back to
the boat to sleep. Phew,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ve never told anyone about that. The
crew knew what I’d done of course, but I’ve never talked about it.”
“Well, I really am privileged then,” Marcie said softly, “It sounds like a one-off.” Ben
earnestly agreed that it was, then she went on, “I said I wouldn’t judge, but I want to set
your mind at ease. It really is okay, you know, to have had a little adventure like that but
then realised it was perhaps a mistake. I guess what you were doing was perfectly legal for
the locale, and it certainly sounds like you’ve put it behind you now. Are you okay carrying
on? So my last question might be another tough one. It’s this. Have you ever abused a
woman?”
“Right. I think I know what you mean, but I can truthfully say that I have never coerced,
well, raped, a woman,” Ben sighed, feeling a little ashamed of being so blunt, but knowing
that honesty really mattered now. So he went on, “There’s a game, isn’t there, when a
couple are getting it together? The man wants a bit more and the woman makes a
performance of saying no. I’ve played that game a lot, pushing my luck, trying to get away
with one more touch, somewhere a little more intimate, trying to get her out off one more
piece of clothing, pleading for her to stroke it just a little longer. I can see how that might go
wrong, how a man could push it too far, and how that ends up being date rape. Obviously
that’s just wrong, but also it’s counter-productive, right? If the ultimate prize is having sex,
anything a man does to put a woman off him is going to ruin his chances. Maybe if he forces
himself on her, he gets some kind of sexual experience once, but she hates him, even if she
can’t bring criminal charges. But if he’s nice to her and makes her feel good, then he might
get sex again and again, and it will be a much more enjoyable kind of sex.”
He paused, staring up at the ceiling, hearing his pious act and wondering if he was still
hiding something. “Maybe sometimes I’ve done things that weren’t right, that weren’t
what the woman thought she’d agreed up to. I guess things can slip sideways if you’re both
a bit drunk for example, especially if you’ve both got undressed and into bed together. It
can all get a bit fumbled and chaotic. You might both be into it together at the time, but
afterwards, you might not be sure if you had really followed an agreed plan, a shared script.
Like in Tallinn, I guess, though that time Miss Baby Spice was absolutely crystal clear about
the script.”
He tried to think of specific examples, but only one came to mind, “Like, I remember one
time with a girlfriend, a woman from Edinburgh, who I dated for a while, well, she wanted
me to massage her. We were in her bed and she had some oil. She was lying her front,
naked, and I was on my knees, naked too, straddled on top of her. I was rubbing this oil into
her back, across her shoulders but down to her buttocks too, right between them, and up
her sides, feeling her breasts a bit. I was very turned on, and I sort of ended up pushing
down on her, squatting on her buttocks. My penis, my rod was rubbing against her as I
rocked backwards and forwards, all slippery with this oil over her skin. Well, I didn’t want
to stop, and then I came, ejaculating across her back. She was very surprised, shocked
really, and quite upset. I had to do a lot of work to get her to trust me again, but I think she
stayed suspicious, and maybe that’s why it didn’t last.”
“Hmm, if you were both naked and pressed together, perhaps she shouldn’t have been all
that surprised,” Marcie said above him, “It sounds almost as if she might not have been so
keen on your semen. Another woman might have quite liked you to rub that over her skin
too, adding a little bit of extra sticky warmth in with the massage oil. Anyway, was that all?”
Ben realised that Marcie was talking about her own attitude to his semen on her back, and
the thought pleased him. But as he listened to her voice, another thought occurred to him.
“Well, there was this one other time with a different woman. We were cuddling, but I was
naked and she was still in her nightwear. I was turned on and hard, and I’d backed her up
against the bathroom door. She couldn’t really move, but I just kept pushing my rod against
her breast, getting more and more turned on. I realise now that I was letting my impulses
get out of control.”
“But I think that time the woman in question asked you to stop, and then you did straight
away, and that’s the really important thing. It sounds as if she was being a bit of a flirt
anyway. Also, I think she wouldn’t have really minded at all if you had carried on and
creamed her boob through her nightdress.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed but also a little turned on at the fresh
memory of his penis against Marcie’s breast.
“No, thank you, Ben,” she said, springing up from her chair. She gave his shoulder a shove
to get him to sit upright, then sat on the sofa herself, cuddling up next to him, letting him
put his arm around her shoulders. “Had you not guessed one of the reasons why I was
asking that stuff?” she asked as she planted small kisses on his cheek and forehead, “Your
real-world sexual journey has many touchpoints with my fantasies about being with an
experienced lover.”
“Really? Can you tell me how?” Ben asked.
“Oh, the carefully curated and hidden worlds of a woman’s sexual fantasies are too much to
reel off just like that!” she rebuffed, “You’ll have to try asking the analyst’s questions to get
some ideas of what’s in there. Are you warm enough by the way?” she asked, rubbing his
bare chest vigorously with her hand.
“Aye, I’m fine,” Ben reassured her, rising to his feet, “Shall I start now?”
“Yes, if you’re up for it. I’ll just get comfy,” Marcie said, shuffling down onto the sofa until
she found the position that Ben had been in.
As he sat down in the chair that Marcie had used, at her head now, he looked down at her.
He could not really see her face below her fulsome dark hair, but he could see her hands
resting on her stomach, her white nightdress covering her knees, and the bare skin of her
chest above its low neckline. He almost felt like a voyeur himself now, looking at the curves
of her softly spread breasts rising and falling with her breath. He realised that Marcie may
have been looking at him in the same way all the time that he was talking about those
difficult topics.
“Okay, if you’re ready, I’ll start by asking you the question about bisexuality. Have you ever
been that close to another woman?”
“Ooh, yes! I won’t pontificate about why you might have chosen that topic straight away.
It’s a bit of a cliche for a straight man to get turned on at the thought of lesbian lovers in
action, isn’t it? But I did ask you this question first, didn’t I? So to simply state the truth of it,
I think it’s possible that I am a little bit bisexual.”
Marcie paused before beginning her own story, “It may be different for girls in general, but
my own experience at school was that we were quite honest about getting crushes on each
other. We’d hold hands and pet at each other a bit anyway, and it wasn’t a big deal if we
had a cuddle in bed together on a sleepover,” she paused, as if reminiscing.
“But it went further than that with one friend that I had, red-haired Amber, with curls even
wilder than mine,” she went on. “When we kissed we would say that we were just
practising for the boys, but it felt like we were both doing it for real at the time. And we’d
talk about everything too, way beyond the usual shocked sharing of what we’d learnt about
sex from Just Seventeen and then Cosmo. We’d spin these elaborate stories about what
we’d done with boys, both knowing full well that we were making them up completely. Yet
somehow those stories would miss out most of the things that boys would really do.
Instead we’d just talk about stroking chests and pussies, kissing, rubbing and fingering,
even receiving cunnilingus once we understood what it was.”
A thought seemed to occur to her as she interrupted her own train of thought, “Hey, I don’t
want your imagination running away with you though! Don’t go picturing us bursting out
of our school uniforms to squash our breasts together or make scissors. We just kissed,
cuddled and talked. That friendship was a one-off, though. We both got into boys for real a
little later on, through sixth form, but we really drifted apart when she went away to
university. No one else ever took her place. I wasn’t bothered about finding someone who
might, and I’ve not been interested enough in other girlfriends to get that close, to fill that
gap so to speak.”
“Well, I don’t know what I expected, but thank you for telling me that,” Ben said, feeling a
little embarrassed at encouraging Marcie to share these personal secrets with him.
Nonetheless, he pushed on, “Okay, my second question might be tough, like some of yours.
But if you’re able to tell me, I’d like to know if you’ve ever been the victim of abuse?”
“It’s okay to ask, Ben. I’m happy to talk like this with you. I absolutely trust your discretion,
as you should mine. But it’s interesting, isn’t it, how I asked you if you’d abused a woman,
then you asked me if I’d been abused by a man? We assume these stereotyped roles for the
male exploiter and the female victim, probably quite accurately in ninety-nine percent of
real-world cases. Anyway, this is about me, not human society in Britain today or
throughout world history, right?”
Ben let her pause before she went on, “Well, the short answer is no, luckily I’ve never been
sexually abused. There have been specific incidents when I’ve seen that side of men. Once,
when I was a teenager walking home from school, a stranger showed me his erect penis. I
just ran and he didn’t follow, but it was a shocking and disgusting thing to have to
experience. I was pretty upset, and my parents took me to see the police, but I think
everyone’s attitude was that these things just happen sometimes, that I should forget it and
move on. I don’t know, maybe the police did take it seriously and caught the bastard.
Maybe he’s languishing in some prison right now, being given hell by the other inmates for
being a paedo. But I did get over it pretty quickly really.”
She paused again, then went on, “I think you do hear more these days about paedophiles
being brought to justice, especially when they’ve been hiding in institutions like the Roman
Catholic Church perhaps. Recently it’s made me wonder about some of those men I knew
who did clubs and things for the kids when I was growing up. It seems quite likely now that
some of them were doing it for their own sexual thrills, perhaps with the boys more than
the girls. I just hope the kids I grew up with have come forward for retrospective justice
now, if it was going on. I was lucky, maybe.”
Ben wondered if she’d finished, but it seemed she did have more to say, “And I
sympathised with what you said earlier about the games men and women play, too. I would
never claim I’ve been the victim of date rape, but it’s a fragile topic. I think it was only in
1992 that the UK recognised the criminal severity of marital rape, and obviously many
other countries still don’t prosecute for it at all. You know now that I’ve been in a couple of
lousy relationships, but I don’t really feel that I can say I was a victim of exploitation by
either Jason or Richard. Once I’d invited them into my bed once, I couldn’t stop them from
imagining it might happen again, from pressing me to have sex with them again. Neither of
them ever forced themselves on me though. Mother of God, we can definitely put all that
back in the box now we’ve got it out to have a quick look at!” she concluded, making a kind
of shivering noise of disgust.
“Okay, I’m sorry to have brought up painful memories,” Ben said.
“No, don’t apologise!” Marcie reassured him, “That’s the point of all this, perhaps. Getting it
off my chest shows that it’s really working, that you’re good at making this work for me. So
don’t stop. Next question, please!”
“All right. Have you ever been in a threesome, or more perhaps?” he asked, boldly.
“What a great question!” Marcie exclaimed, “I wish I’d asked you that now. But what would
you do, what would you think of me, if I said yes, I wonder? Anyway, I have to say no, I’ve
not. Maybe when you asked you were hopefully thinking of me and another woman getting
it on together with a lucky man, but I have to say that the first thing I imagine when you ask
that is of myself being pleasured by two men at once. I think it’s a really common fantasy
for women, and I admit I’ve daydreamed about it, but I’m not even sure how it would work.
Would one of them have to be anally penetrating me? I’m not actually very keen on that
idea, with the rectum not really being a place for a penis to go. There doesn’t seem much
point in poking around up there either, for me at least, as I don’t have a prostate. Still, I
suppose I must admit that sometimes I quite like my anus being touched when I’m turned
on. Anyway, those specific details aren’t the point. At the end of the day, I can’t imagine it
ever really working out. The best kind of sex is about showing your love for one special
person, isn’t it? So this is something that can definitely be left as a fantasy for me. I can’t
even really imagine being able to attract the attention of two guys who’d be up for it
anyway.”
“Are you kidding?” asked Ben, recovering his concentration after the unexpected insights
into her attitudes about anal sex, “You must be beating them off with a stick down town on
a weekend. You’d easily find guys who’d be eager, who would definitely be well up for it, if
you just came out and asked.”
“But I don’t really do that big night out thing, Ben. I’m not like you. It might be nice to try it
occasionally though, the proper night out in Newcastle I mean, not bringing two guys home!
But I don’t feel confident in a crowd like that, and I’m not sure I really look the part. I can’t
compete with the lassies dressed just in their slips, made up like show-girls with yards of
bronzed skin showing.”
“You don’t have to go that far to attract attention. I reckon if you just showed a bit of
cleavage and put some lippie on, you’d totally fit in. I could even take you down to the Bigg
Market tomorrow night, when it’s a bit quieter, and you could see just how friendly the
guys, the cheeky Geordie charvas, can be.”
“Well we’ll call that a date then!” Marcie eagerly agreed, “But I’ll try not to make another
new friend to bring home with you.”
“Great,” Ben said, but perhaps Marcie could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He still felt
unsure about what to think of her desire to have sex with two men at once, or what he
could do about it.
“Hey, I’m teasing!” she said with emphasis, seeming to read his mind, “I absolutely don’t
want to get squashed between two guys in the real world. Remember this is fantasy stuff.
With women’s fantasies especially, but I guess with men and their porno too, we can
always be very clear about which are daydreams and what’s reality. Even if I completely
disappear off in my head when I’m in some blissed-out ecstasy, perhaps to a full-on fantasy
Elfland in the clouds where the satyrs have glowing tree trunks for cocks, it would still be
you that’s taking me there, your body that’s in my arms and, I hope one day, your rod
that’s really inside me.”
“Aye, I hope for that too,” Ben said, feeling quite stirred up himself now by her imagination.
He pressed on, “So, I guess this is my last question. How old were you when you first had
sex, and could you tell me about it?”
“Oh, that’s a classic, isn’t it? I should have asked you that too. It’s something we’d talk
about time after time as teenagers, but I was still a virgin then, so I actually made a story up.
Shall I tell you that as well as the time that I really lost my virginity, at nineteen?”
“Aye, yes please,” Ben replied, intrigued.
“Don’t you hate that phrase, by the way? You skilfully avoided it in your question, but I
stumbled right into it. For a boy, it’s like a rite of passage, something to be proud of, that
your mates would probably congratulate you on if you boasted about it to them. But for a
girl it’s a loss of something precious, unique and irreplaceable, a medieval idea of purity
that’s punctured when the hymen’s torn and bleeds. It sucks. Anway, let me tell you about
the made-up version first.”
She took a deep breath, then went on. “There was this German guy called Hans who I met
when I was sixteen on our regular family trip to Malta. He was on his summer holidays with
his younger sister and his parents, and he was two years older than me. This is totally
fictitious, by the way, though I could tell you a whole lot more in exact detail, where he
came from, what he was studying, what he looked like, all tall and butch, with dreamy
blonde hair. Well, you get the idea! We’d met because I was about the same age as his sister,
but then we hit it off too when we all hired bikes together. On his last night there, he
escaped his family’s rented apartment and found me. He climbed in through my bedroom
window and we had a wonderful illicit night of passion, muffling our cries of ecstasy, both
knowing we’d never see each other again. He let me go on top and I rode him like Joan of
Arc on her mighty Teutonic warhorse, pumping away until we were both slick with sweat. I
don’t know if any of my friends really believed me, and I shared this story with more than
just Amber, but they all enjoyed everything that I described about it.”
“It sounds like it would have been fun, and romantic too. So do you want to tell me about
the real one as well?” Ben asked.
“Well, as you might expect, like many people’s experience in their first time, it was a lot less
glamorous, and overall a bit of anti-climax. It’s like a fairground ride, isn’t it? You queue up,
waiting what seems like forever, then when it’s finally your turn, it’s just some slightly
bored kid that punches your ticket to let you on. Then suddenly you find you’re locked into
something that’s a bit uncomfortable, getting thrown and pulled about all over. It’s giving
you some thrills for sure, but it’s making you feel a bit sick too. And then it’s all finished
almost as soon as it got started, so you feel disappointed, but also perhaps a little bit
relieved that it’s over too. But despite all that, you still want to go around and queue for the
ride again.”
“That’s a great description,” Ben remarked with sincere respect.
“Thanks, but I’ll share the actual details with you too. His name was Giacomo, and he
looked Italian but he was English really. He was a fellow student, and perhaps we’d
originally been aware of each other on the course because we were both second-generation
Mediterranean immigrants. Well, we were just at the start of our second year, part of a
group of undergraduate lawyers who’d gone to a fresher’s disco. I think he’d gone there
with the deliberate intent of trying to pick up a naive new arrival, but he’d had no luck. He
thought of himself as a bit of a handsome Roman stallion, but really he was just a bit short,
and vain too. Anyway, it started between us towards the end of the evening when we were
sat close together and a little tipsy. I think I initiated things by putting my hand on his knee,
giving him an excuse to touch mine. We got to kissing and necking, then he asked if I’d like
to go back to his room. I said I did, but I knew what was on his mind and I was quite blunt.
We had a bit of a debate about protection, which ended up with him realising what was at
stake when it came down to the bottom line, that no condom meant no sex.”
She took a deep breath before carrying on, “Well, we went back to his place and he made a
bit of pretence at offering me a drink, but of course what he really wanted me to do was get
undressed. I was quite happy to comply. I knew the plan, the script as you put it. So after all
that talking about it as a teenager and all that reading about it in Cosmopolitan and so on, it
just came down to me lying on my back on his not so fresh duvet while he had a bit of
fumble about, then awkwardly letting him put his cock up inside me almost as soon as he’d
got it out. I think I made a bit of a performance of writhing around and moaning, and it was
nice to feel him there, but overall it was really just a bit uncomfortable. I was quite glad
when he finished quickly. Afterwards we had a bit more of a cuddle, I said some polite
words and then fell asleep with him, but we never tried to do it again. Maybe I’d
disappointed him, or maybe he just thought he could do better. I don’t think either of us
was ever really interested in seeing the other as more than just a casual acquaintance. But
for me it felt like I’d got the job done, at least.”
Marcie found her own conclusion, “It was a rite of passage, like I said, but it would have
been nicer to have passed through that gateway into womanhood in sunny Malta, rather
than a student room in dreary Manchester. So maybe I’ll keep the fantasy of Hans, rubbing
his big hands over my still budding body, slippery with sun cream and the sweat of a hot
Mediterranean summer.”
“Wow, you took my questions so seriously,” Ben said as Marcie sat up and beckoned him
back to the sofa with an outstretched arm, “I’m really glad you shared all that.”
“It was worth doing, I think. I feel unburdened somehow, or perhaps better able to look
forwards instead of worrying about the past. It feels right that you should have heard it too,
that I don’t need to feel guilty about keeping secrets from you or anxious about how you’d
react if you found them out, even if there are probably still all sorts of things that we didn’t
mention. But you shared a lot with me too.”
As Marcie had started talking, Ben put his head against her shoulder, but then somehow
he’d found it natural to settle down lower, perhaps as if it were his turn to lie down on the
sofa again. He ended up with his head in her lap, gazing up into her contented smile over
the rise of her breasts under her pleated white nightwear, whilst she gently played with his
hair.
“Aye, I feel the same way, more so maybe,” Ben said reflectively. He went on, “That was
some awkward, unpleasant stuff I wound up sharing. But you described things really well,
you know, and your imaginary things were really vivid. Maybe you should write that stuff
down, publish your own book.”
“Maybe I’ve already started,” Marcie said enigmatically, “But who would read it? Anyway,
I’m really glad that you opened up and told me so much. I’m thinking now that I might
need to find a nurse’s costume to wear for you, and that I’d better keep a tight grip on your
hand if we go to Tallinn, or a Spice Girl’s reunion for that matter. I’m teasing!” she
exclaimed as Ben opened his mouth to protest, then immediately carried on, “It also sounds
like my pussy will be safe from unexpected visitors if I end up falling asleep when we’re a
bit inebriated too, but I might need to expect some spurts of extra lubrication if I ask you to
give me a massage. Hmm, and I’d better be prepared for my nipples to end up feeling a bit
tender too. But that’s all just fine,” she concluded, gazing down tenderly at him with a
beaming smile.
“I’m glad,” Ben said as he returned her warm smile. Even though he still felt a bit ashamed
of some of the things he’d said, he knew that he was also a bit aroused. He was aware that
his head was close to Marcie’s pussy, as she kept calling it, and he could feel the warm skin
of Marcie’s firm thighs on his cheek through the thin fabric. This arousal started coming on
more strongly when she began playing her nails over his bare chest.
“Were you turned on by what we talked about at all?” she asked him.
“Yes, I guess I was, at times. Your fantasies intrigued me. But how did you feel? We were
talking about some heavy stuff too.”
“Well I’ll admit it wasn’t as straightforward as it felt earlier, when we got down on the rug
to act out how we might masturbate. Perhaps I did get a bit turned on, perhaps even by the
simple act of openly sharing such private things out loud with you. But what I feel now is
more like a kind of itch, a physical condition that I need to just get on and do something
about. So what do you say, Ben?” she asked, giving his chest a vigorous rub, as if it were a
dog’s coat, Ben thought, “Do you want to come through to the bedroom with me now to
really see I go about pleasuring myself?”
“Hell yes!” Ben agreed eagerly, lifting his head from her lap.
“Well come on then!” Marcie said, grinning flirtatiously as she pushed him up, using both
hands against his back.
Chapter 12
Ben gripped Marcie’s hand eagerly as she led him through to the darkened bedroom. She
told him to wait at the doorway as the curtains were still open. By the streetlight
penetrating the gauzy voile drapes he could see the ghostly shape of her moving around in
her nightdress as she quickly jerked them closed, then moved to the bed to put the bedside
lamps on. As she climbed onto the bed to reach the one on the far side, he approached. She
turned as he got onto the bed himself so that they ended up facing each other, both on their
knees, on top of the duvet. He took her hips in his hands as she held the back of his head,
and they kissed tenderly.
Even though he knew it was silly, Ben was glad that he was already aroused when Marcie
suddenly grabbed the towel that was still around his waist and pulled it off. She raked her
fingernails down his chest and stomach, then cupped his scrotum in one hand while
holding his still-growing erection between the finger and thumb of her other. “Hmm, a
priapic satyr, I’m sure,” she muttered, as if to herself.
But she only held it for a moment, almost as if she wanted to check again that it was real,
before pulling him to her for a deeper, passionate kiss. Ben held her against him, embracing
her shoulders while she gripped his buttocks. Once more he felt the warmth of her skin
through the thin fabric of her nightdress against his stomach and penis, just as he had in the
bathroom earlier. He was upright again now, and he pushed himself deliberately against
her, freeing his head from his foreskin, savouring her tongue in his mouth as he stooped
down over her upturned face, but he knew to remain calm now.
Eventually they pulled apart, both a little breathless. “This is nice,” Marcie said almost in a
whisper, “But I’m still not really getting on with things am I? You said that you wanted to
be involved when I masturbated, and I think it’s time for me to make a proper start now.”
Ben agreed contentedly, still pressing himself against the soft pleated cotton that fell over
her abdomen. “Well, let go of me so that I can lie down then!” Marcie ordered.
As Marcie began to move around on the bed awkwardly, with her knees pulling on her
nightshirt, she seemed to have an idea. “We should turn this around. Let’s throw the duvet
back,” and Ben helped her as she did just that, his erection bobbing about in the air as he
moved, “Then I’ll move all the pillows down to this end,” she went on, piling them toward
the foot of the bed on top of the rolled-back duvet, “So I can lie comfortably this way
round,” she said, turning the wrong way around on the bed, before getting onto her back
with her knees apart and raised, still with the nightshirt over them, “And you can lie across
there,” she indicated the whole width of the bed where the pillows had been with a sweep
of her hand, “So you can see what’s going on in the light.”
As Ben lay down on his side where she’d indicated, his head at one of her feet, he could see
the sense of her idea. The bedside lamps cast their light clearly across the brilliant white
cotton of her nightdress where it was stretched between her knees. He curled himself
around so that his legs weren’t hanging over the edge of the bed to pull him off, which
brought his stomach up against Marcie’s other foot.
She was pushing herself up on her hands, looking down at him as he lay at her feet with a
kind of curiosity. “Oh, this is a bit weird, actually. When I lie back I can’t see you at all, and I
can’t keep myself propped up like this comfortably for long. I’m going to have to ignore you
for a bit, I think, lying back as if it’s just me giving my pussy a little treat on my own. We’ll
keep talking though, okay?”
“Okay,” Ben agreed, touching his penis for his own reassuring comfort at the thought of
Marcie sharing such intimacy with him. He felt a little apprehensive about being able to
concentrate on talking at the same time, though.
“Well, here she is then,” Marcie said, lying back and finally lifting her nightshirt to reveal
her well-toned legs and, of course, her vulva. She wriggled to pass the fabric under her bum,
gathering it up around her waist. As she settled down, resting her hands on her inner thighs,
she pushed one foot against Ben’s firm abdomen, positioning herself so that her knees
were a little more widely splayed.
Ben saw again her lush dark hair, piling up beneath a crease that, in her current position,
ran across her waist below her bellybutton. But now he could see with absolute clarity how
that hair went on down more thinly over the long banks of her outer labia, dwindling away
as the crease of her vulva disappeared between her buttocks. The way that she’d opened
herself to him meant that he could see much more than this though. The shady, rumpled
creases of her inner labia were clear before him, tucked inside the broad groove between
her longer outer lips. Ben wondered if their pink tints were a sign that Marcie was already
aroused, the blood flowing through her intimate parts just as it did in his, swelling his penis.
At the top of Marcie’s inner lips, Ben could also see their folds converging at the fleshy bud
that was surely her clitoris, or more accurately its hood, he guessed. At their opposite end,
he saw a short dark groove in their glistening folds, and recognised this narrow line as
being the mouth of her vagina.
It took Ben only a moment to take in all this intimate feminine detail. “I guess it’s not
exactly a pretty sight,” Marcie’s seemingly disembodied voice said almost apologetically as
she stroked on hand idly across herself.
“It is pretty,” Ben replied, then realised he needed to clarify in honesty, “Well, it’s
profoundly sexy. I said something similar about my penis too, I think,” Ben added, his hand
resting on his shaft now.
“Let’s keep calling him Rod, little Roddie Osborne, Roddie O,” Marcie said, her fingers idly
playing with her pubic hair now, “It feels more personal, something just for us. Can you
think of a name like that for my pussy that we can use, so she’s her own character too, not
just an it?”
“Well, may I touch her first?” Ben asked hopefully.
“Of course! That’s the point, isn’t it? We are surely close enough for that now. If you have
an impulse to do something with me, just go ahead. I can always stay stop if I want, like in
the bathroom earlier.”
“You asked me for permission the first time you held Roddie, I think,” Ben explained,
raising his arm to brush the back of fingers softly against the fur of her outer labia.
“Yes, I did. Hmm, there was a reason for that, a bit of a funny story behind it,” Marcie began
after a pause, holding her own hands still within the crease of her thighs, “I felt I needed to,
as I’d kind of accidentally touched him already, without your permission.”
“What? When?” Ben asked in surprise, even as he found a way to better reach the edges of
her vulva and gently stroke her.
“Back in the gym, after you collapsed and the ambulance arrived, your body seemed to
react strongly when you started getting the oxygen. The paramedic didn’t say anything, but
I could see a long bulge growing under your shorts. Ooh, that’s good!” Marcie interrupted
herself in exclamation, “Keep going just like that. But yes, you were almost unconscious,
but I think something in your system wanted to surge back to life in a visceral and basic
way. The gym supervisor was fussing about behind us with the other paramedic. He
wanted to know if we could find your locker key. With the paramedics busy, I just went
ahead put my hands in your pockets. It was over in an instant, but I could feel Roddie O
through your shorts, warm and hard under my fingers. It felt a bit shocking and quite
embarrassing, but also nice, a cheeky thing to have done with a tall blonde handsome
stranger.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, struggling to take in this surprising story even whilst he tried to
concentrate on Marcie’s vulva, distracted by his own arousal too, “But it must have also
been disgusting, having to touch a strange dirty, horny man.”
“Not really, not with you. Can I stroke too? I’ll show you. Keep massaging those furry bits.
My lips are very slippery now. No, touching you then was nice, maybe it was the real
starting moment, a bit of the magic that’s brought us together. But you’re touching me now,
and you’ve not come up with a name for her yet,” Marcie murmured, taking longer breaths
now, as she stroked the fingers of one hand over her glossy inner labia, their dusky folds
parting to reveal more flushed pink skin.
“You call her your pussy, but which bit do you mean by that?”
“Oh, you don’t want a gynaecology lesson, do you? Medical words aren’t very romantic. But
I meant the whole thing, really, my furry bits, my lips, my vagina, my clitoris. Yes, there she
is,” Marcie said, hooking her slippery finger under the little rosy bulge that Ben saw
emerging from the creases at the top of her vulva.
“The fur’s not very like a cat’s, is it?” Ben risked saying as he kept idly stroking, “Nor the
thick soft fur of a beaver either, really. It’s coarse and bristly, like a dog or a badger. We
can’t call it any of those. A fox, maybe. They have dark foxes in Russia, don’t they? They
even domesticated them, I think. Your vixen, then, with a beautiful bushy pelt, as well as the
soft tawny petals of your lips, the pink bud of your clit too, and the deep dark cwm of your
vagina,” the words were coming easily to Ben as he watched Marcie rhythmically itching at
herself. The last seemed fitting, even if he wasn’t sure why that Welsh term for the round
head of a narrow valley had come to mind. It sounded a bit like the old fashioned quim or
cunny, which were themselves somehow politer than the explosive cunt word. But like
pussy, those perhaps vaguely referred to just the external vulva anyway, in a way that the
deeper cwm did not, and clearly Marcie had meant to refer to her vagina too.
“Great, Ben!” she responded in a distracted way as she breathed heavily, “You missed bits
though. The bits your stroking, the mound of my bush, they’re like the cushions, tiny
versions of those three cushions you had on the rug. And they’re there for just the same
reason, aren’t they? For you to bump against when you’re erect inside. You missed Vixen’s
G-spot too.”
“You really have one then?” Ben asked.
“Oh yes!” Marcie confirmed. Ben wasn’t completely sure whether she was just agreeing, or
whether she was beginning to reach the peak of her arousal.
Following Marcie’s earlier advice, he didn’t pause to ask permission before he wriggled his
other hand to the glistening mouth of her vagina and gently eased his index finger inside.
He felt thrilled to feel its warm slippery walls on his fingertip as he wiped it around. “Oh
yes!” he heard Marcie say again, definitely in pleasure this time. There seemed to be easily
enough room for Ben’s middle finger too, so he pressed it to the back of his index finger
and gently pushed, forcing both fingers deeper and deeper up inside Marcie’s vagina, her
cwm. Hooking them up, he found that its texture did feel a little different in one place, a
little rougher and bumpier. He stroked her there, hoping he’d found the right spot.
Even while he concentrated on Marcie, Ben was aware that his own arousal was achingly
hard now. He’d also been becoming increasingly aware of the raw earthy scent of Marcie’s
most intimate place, and he was sure that this potent animal muskiness was having a
powerful direct effect on him. He felt the urgent need to release his own pent-up pressure,
even as she was surely closing in on her own orgasm. He wriggled around so that Marcie’s
foot slipped down his belly and bumped against his erection. “Can you press it against
Roddie?” he asked, unsure if Marcie could see where her foot was.
“Oh! Yes. I get it. I was miles away. Like this? Take it slow yourself. Hmm, take care, of your
lungs. Oh, keep going! I’m almost there.” Marcie said breathlessly. She had easily found a
way to press the sole of her foot against Ben’s shaft, letting him push against its rough skin
by moving his hips, her toes twitching occasionally against his head. He felt sorry that he’d
disturbed her build-up towards her orgasm, but thrilled by the sensations that she was
now granting him. She also seemed to have quickly found her own tempo again, holding
herself parted with one hand while the first two fingers of her other hand rhythmically
itched the wet sides of her bulging clitoris with quick strokes. His own fingers were still
deep inside her, slipping in and out a little but concentrating their gentle pressure on that
rougher area.
But now he was moving his other hand, wrapping it around the one that penetrated her,
exploring lower than her labia, pushing between her thighs at the base of her vulva. Her
perineum was slick with the lubricating juices that had leaked from her vagina, so his
fingers could slip easily between the cleft of her buttocks to find the tight crease of her anus.
As his fingertips touched this, he felt a delicious warm trickle seeping from his own stiff
penis, spilling over Marcie’s foot. Distantly he heard Marcie respond in surprise to his
touch on her anus, “Oh, yes!” But he couldn’t help himself as he pushed against her, his
hands momentarily frozen, as a dizzy wave rose up from his penis through his body and
right over his scalp. He was distantly aware that Marcie was making a kind of urgent
grunting noise somewhere above him, but he was becoming lost in his own moment of
ecstasy. After an exquisite pause, his orgasm finally exploded through him, pumping his
semen out in uncontrolled spurts as Marcie’s toes chaotically flexed against the spasms of
his wooden penis.
He was panting hard, but as the pulses of his ejaculation subsided, his eyes focused again
on Marcie’s wet vulva. With renewed attention now that he’d received his own thrilling
gratification, he pressed his fingers firmly against her anus and G-spot as her fingertips
rapidly rubbed around her clitoris. Then he saw her lips seem to make a contraction of
their own, synchronising with a powerful spasm that his fingers felt run through the
muscles of her vagina, and even a softening pulse in her anus too.
“Qaddisa Marija. Omm Alla!” he heard her exclaim with a kind of distracted urgency
through her panted breaths as the spasms came again, then her fingers stilled and they
both lay still, breathing heavily.
Gingerly, Ben withdrew his hands, then used one to gently move Marcie’s foot aside,
releasing the pressure on his softening penis and its sensitive head especially. He realised
he’d come across her bedsheets as well as her foot and his own lower belly. “I think I’ve
made a bit of a mess,” he confessed.
“Yes, I noticed that happening,” Marcie said dreamily, rising on her arms only now to look
down at him. Ben could see that her smiling face looked flushed, with strands of crinkled
hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead and cheeks, yet beatifically calm despite her
heavy breathing. Seeing her this way, Ben found her profoundly sexy, with that bleary look
of intoxication in her eyes, limpid behind her spectacles. Idly, as if to herself, she remarked,
“Who would have thought? Masturbation can mean feet as well as hands.”
“Come here,” Ben said, holding out his arms, “If you don’t mind the wet patches.”
“Of course I don’t!” Marcie said, raising her foot over his head to sit up on the bed, then
exclaiming, “Oh damn this thing!” To Ben’s surprise, at that moment she grabbed the edge
of her nightdress where it was bundled up around her waist, and pulled it over her head in
one smooth movement, suddenly exposing her loose breasts. Once again, Ben eagerly
noticed how they swung as she tossed her nightwear aside, then she was throwing herself
back down onto the bed to lie on her side facing him, cuddling up in his arms.
As they held each other, Ben was deliciously aware of her soft warm skin pressing against
his. They both seemed calm as he simply held her to him, his nose buried in her hair, aware
of the heavy beat of his heart slowing. He deliberately breathed deeply and peacefully,
savouring the moment, still noticing the bodily fragrance of her intimacy as well as the
distinctive smell of his own semen beneath the politer scents of her clean hair and skin.
“So, Vixen it is then,” Marcie said eventually, “The wild little bitch at home in her musky
den.”
“I like your musk,” Ben said, the words escaping his mouth before he could catch them,
perhaps in his distraction at the sensation of Marcie’s soft breasts pressing against his
chest.
“Do you now?” Marcie said, leaning back in his arms to look into his worried face with an
intrigued expression of insight in her grinning smile. “Well I like the sweet and salty
creaminess of your sperm, with that subtle and strange brie mould flavour, so I guess that’s
only fair,” she decided, cuddling up against him again. He stroked her back and hips
tenderly, admiring her honest acceptance of his body’s male expression, even as he was
gratefully appreciative of her close nudity with him.
“Thinking of your sudden wet rush, though, there was something I should have asked you.
Have you ever had a girlfriend who leaked, you know, at the critical moment? I don’t know
if you’d call it female ejaculation, if that’s even a real thing, or just a little wet squirt.”
“Yes, it has happened, I think,” Ben answered cautiously, still unsure whether Marcie really
wanted to hear the details of previous lovers, especially those casual encounters of whom
his memory was pretty sketchy.
“Well, it can happen with me sometimes too. I don’t think it’s like coming, how ejaculation
is for you, because usually I barely even notice it’s happened. It’s almost like an occasional
side effect of my real orgasm. Do you mind?” she asked, leaning back to look anxiously into
his face again, before nestling against his neck once more as she went on, “I don’t really
know what it is myself. I’m afraid it might just be a bit of wee escaping. Perhaps I shouldn’t
ask you to get that close to me, you know, putting your face there when I’m reaching my
orgasm.”
“Really Marcie, don’t worry at all. I’m sure if I ever noticed it happening, I would only find
it deeply sexy. What you said about our fluids last night, I agree. However our bodies create
them, they’re expressed when we make love, and that can only be good.”
“Thank you, I guess you’re right,” Marcie said, putting her leg across his hip so that Ben
could feel her rough hairs rubbing against his soft penis, “Just stimulating my clitoris, what
did you call it? Vixen’s bud, just teasing that on its own doesn’t make me go off like a burst
water balloon. But the way that you touched me exactly on my most sensitive spots, on the
G-spot deep in my cwm, as you called it, and even touching my butthole, all at the same
time that I was tickling the bud, that could have been a real trigger.”
Ben was feeling a low tingle as if he were becoming aroused again already, excited to hear
Marcie just speak of such intimate sensations. “Seeing you like that, seeing just your vixen,”
Ben said, trying out the word again, “It made me think. I was so grateful to you. I’d just
been reading about things, about the female bits, in that book, but then there you were,
showing it all to me in reality, in the flesh, sharing it just with me. I felt honoured, awed, like
you were showing me something divine.”
“Oh don’t talk nonsense. You’re just teasing me!” she replied, digging her nails into his
sides in a mock-tickle even as she held his naked body against hers.
“No, I’m serious,” Ben protested, wriggling against her as he realised the full truth of it,
“It’s like Vixen is the most important thing I can imagine, and yet she’s so small and
delicate. I could cover her with my hand, with just my palm, but it’s like she’s the portal,
the wellspring of all life. Everyone in human history was created through her, even Jesus,
God incarnate, according to your Catholic stories.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure a priest would agree. It’s not clear how God’s seed fertilised Mary
really, but it obviously left her hymen intact. But I see your point. Do you know the painting,
L’Origine du Monde in French, The Origin of the World, by Gustav Courbet I think? It just
frames some woman’s bushy vulva, but when he gave it that title perhaps the artist saw it
in just the same as you do now.”
“There you are then, it’s the inspiration for men, for everything we do. That romantic
golden painting in the living room, was that done by a man?”
“Yes, another Gustav, Gustav Klimt. And I think you’re right about why he painted it. There
are far more graphic paintings than The Kiss by him.”
“So men make great art, honour their muses, write brilliant educated books, fight and make
war, work out in the gym for hours, learn how to climb trees and sail across the Atlantic, all
just to show off, to impress women, to help their chances, their chances of getting a bit
closer to your Vixen.”
“Well not my Vixen!” Marcie protested, cuddling up against him again, her bristly hairs
definitely encouraging a resurgent swelling in his weary and sensitive penis now, “She’s
spoken for!”
“Good,” Ben said, then after a moment’s pause, he found himself adding, “I love you,
Marcie.”
“I’m glad,” she responded softly, before echoing him, “And I love you too, Ben. We’re
good.”
He stroked her bare skin again, imagining that he could feel the scattered bumps of her
moles under his fingertips. He deliberately brushed his palm up her side, finding the edge
of her breast as it pressed against his own chest. He caressed the soft mound tenderly,
finding a way to ask something else that had been on his mind, “Why didn’t you take your
nightdress off earlier, Marcie? If you felt shy, you were very brave, showing Vixen to me like
that.”
“Hmm, that was part of it,” she responded drowsily, kissing his shoulder with soft pecks of
her lips, “But really I was thinking of you. You’d said you were very keen on my boobies,
and I kind of saw that in the bathroom. I was a bit worried if I got them out and let you sink
your face into them, if I let you do all that sucking that you told me about that turns you on
so much, then I’d risk winding you up so much that I’d give you another asthma attack.”
“It doesn’t sound like such a bad way to go,” Ben remarked quietly.
“Not yet!” Marcie said firmly, “I’m not letting you go now. Maybe much, much later, in sixty
years’ time perhaps, when the doctors are counting down your final hours. Maybe then I’ll
get them out for you one last time, even if they’ve drooped down to my waist by then. I’ll
smother you with them just once more, letting you suck them to the end, until a boney hand
leads you away. And don’t think I don’t know what’s going on down there right now,” she
added in a sultry tone of exaggerated disapproval, grasping his buttock firmly in one hand.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked in mock innocence. At a deeper level though, he’d been
struck by Marcie’s words. It seemed as if she’d just assumed they would be life-long
partners now, and he recognised how easy it was for him to imagine that too. It also
seemed that they’d both naturally been reminded of death, even in the loving glow they
were sharing after their orgasms. Yet he vaguely felt as if that made sense too, given their
visceral immersion in the currents at the very heart of the eternal cycle of life. He’d also
been reminded of the theme of rebirth in Marcie’s recurring story of the hero’s journey,
and the more base magic of what he was feeling now.
“Roddie’s getting himself all ready to go again, isn’t he?” Marcie replied, grinding herself
roughly against him again, “I can feel him moving around. It’s very nice, but it’s a bit much
to ask of your poorly lungs tonight, I think. I expect it will take longer the second time
around, and need more work from both of us. And I think we both still need to catch up on
our sleep too. Come on,” she concluded, craning her neck back to kiss his lips with a quick
peck, “Let’s sort this bed out and then snuggle down.”
Marcie rolled away from Ben and he sat up, looking down at the sorry mess that he’d made.
But she had found the towel he’d worn around his waist earlier, and once she’d wiped her
foot with it, she passed it to him. Ben wiped himself down then patted ineffectually at the
semen he’d spilt on the sheets. It seemed as if there hadn’t been that much of it, but drips
had got spread around widely. As he did this, he struggled to not let himself get too
distracted by the sight of Marcie rising from the bed, shaking out the pillows and duvet,
then recovering her nightshirt. Yet nude, she was a vision to him. He was still drawn to the
way her breasts bounced and wobbled, and he saw the bushy dark triangle of her vulva in a
new, personal way now. She was intent on putting her nightdress back on though, and as
Ben stoically swung himself off the bed to help remake it, she pulled the white cotton down
like a veil over her beautiful body.
“I’m going through to the bathroom for a wee and to brush my teeth,” she declared, “Are
you coming with me?”
Ben agreed and followed her through the flat to the bathroom, still nude himself. He felt
strangely touched when she raised her nightshirt and sat down on the toilet without any
hesitation or self-consciousness. It was as if she were completely at ease with him being
there as she answered the call of nature, and he felt this brought her yet another step closer
to him. He washed his face and hands, put the dirty towel in the overflowing wash, then
started brushing his teeth as Marcie finished and rose to join him, giving him a cute little
smile.
She left the bathroom before him, asking him to turn the lights out as he came through. She
was sitting on the edge of the bed, still braiding her hair for the night as he came in. He
clicked his bedside light out then lay down behind her, and she turned hers off moments
later, settling down beside him. Ben felt that their whole shared bedtime routine had
seemed just as natural as if they’d been doing it for years. He cuddled up to her, letting her
roll over so they were comfortably making spoons again. “Another big day tomorrow,” she
murmured in the darkness, “I’ll kick off my change of supervisor during my morning shift,
then we’ll hear what the doctor has to say about you, and then we’ll hit the town for canny
night out.”
“Sounds good,” Ben murmured sleepily in response.
“Love you,” Marcie whispered, lifting his hand to kiss it before placing it back where it had
been, softly cupping her breast, “Sleep well, sweet dreams.”
“Love you too,” Ben responded, kissing the bare skin at the back of her neck as he rested
his hips against her bum and began to quickly drift off.
Chapter 13
Ben was once again woken by the sound of Marcie’s alarm. She was still tangled in his arms,
even as she now jerked into motion, groping ineffectually to turn it off. He felt deeply
contented, as if he’d slept solidly through the whole night. He had happily found himself
still cuddled up against Marcie’s back, and he wondered idly if that was because neither of
them had moved at all, or because they had both naturally kept returning to that position
with each other.
Marcie sighed, then as she pushed herself out of bed to find her clothes, she told Ben that he
could lie in. He considered it for a moment, relaxing as he lay back in their shared nest,
inhaling the comforting lived-in smell of the sheets, feeling the pleasant swelling of his
morning arousal. But he was eager to get up with her too, and said as much, pushing the
duvet back to expose his soft erection. She muttered something about satyrs as he quickly
slipped off to the bathroom to empty his bladder, wrapping himself in a clean towel he
found there. Marcie walked in on him as she came through for her shower, agreeing to
leave the door ajar again while he went to the kitchen to make mugs of tea for them both.
When she emerged wrapped in her own towels, around her chest and head as usual, she
gratefully took her tea back to the bedroom to get dressed, leaving Ben to set up the table
for breakfast. It was a while before she joined him, dressed in her dark work trousers and a
pastel patterned blouse, her damp hair already pinned back in its neat bun. As she sat down,
her appearance so smart and formal, Ben felt a little self-conscious, still just wrapped in a
towel. She just wanted a simple bowl of cereal, sadly admitting that she wouldn’t have time
to share a pot of coffee, whilst he was already onto a second round of toast and jam.
Still, even though they spoke only about mundane things, she seemed very happy to be
sharing her time with him. He said that he could change the bedsheets and try to get them
washed while the weather still looked good. She told him in turn that clean bedding was in
the drawer under the bed, and clothes pegs were in a bag in the hallway cupboard.
Marcie was also enthusiastic about their evening out. Ben assured her that he’d be able to
book an early table for two at a good value pizza restaurant he knew just off Bigg Market, to
line their stomachs as he put it, before they hit the bars and pubs in the centre. He
suggested he contact some of his friends to see if they wanted to meet up for a drink too,
and she agreed to that, so long as they could keep the party under six or so. She said that
she didn’t want them to get too carried away, and Ben had the strong impression that she
might want to slip back home quite early.
As she was finishing her bowl, she confirmed that even though she was walking into work,
she’d be back before half one. She said that he should go ahead with his lunch without her
anyway so they could make his doctor’s appointment easily. Then she asked him if he
might read a bit more while she was out, “I wonder if you’ll reach for Terry Pratchett or
Tracy Cox first?” she pondered, then remembered with a private smile, “Oh, I mentioned
The Chronicles of Narnia last night, didn’t I?”
She went to the bookcase to pull down an old box set of paperbacks, but she cautioned him,
“If you want to try reading my copies, you must promise to look after them. I’ve had these
since I was a girl, and they’re precious to me. Don’t go bending the spines back or reading
them with dirty hands!”
Ben agreed to treat them with respect, then she slipped one out of the box. As she held it
out, he saw that it had a picture of a huge lion and three children on the front. He took it
and turned it over in his hands to see the rich colours of the illustration continuing on the
back, showing an anxious fourth child and a frosty queen. “I recommend you start with this
one,” Marcie explained, “Even though it says number two there, it was the first one
published. As I said, it’s a bit stuffy by modern standards, but the story moves along quickly
and I still think CS Lewis captured something quite magical for those of all ages.”
Ben thanked her and carefully set it aside before starting to tidy their breakfast things up as
she went to brush her teeth. He collected some clean clothes from the spare room,
wondering if he should move these to Marcie’s bedroom now, then joined her in the
bathroom. He asked if she’d mind him having his shower, but she was already finishing,
about to go to the bedroom to put on her modest makeup.
She came back, already with her jacket and satchel, while Ben was still drying himself with
his new towel. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time for a cuddle this morning,” she said,
glancing down at his body before stepping forwards to stroking his cheek, “I’ve got my
work head on. I’m too aware of the clock.”
“We’ll make it up, I’m sure,” Ben said, almost frozen to the spot as he stood nude, gripping
his towel in one hand, not wanting to get his wet hands or any other part of him on her
clean clothes. Even Marcie’s gentle touch had triggered the tingle of something stirring in
his penis and scrotum.
“I am very sure we will!” she agreed with a cheeky twinkle in her eye. She stood on tiptoes
to push her lips playfully towards his cheek. Ben followed the kiss on each cheek routine
easily, then she planted the lightest peck on his lips too. “Look after yourself. I’ll be home
soon,” she said as she parted, then turned in the kitchen doorway to give him a soulful look
under her serious glasses, saying, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ben replied, standing like the first man in his primal state even as she
strode away.
He heard the door click closed behind her as he finished drying himself, applied his
deodorant, then started getting dressed. He hung his towel, cleaned his own teeth, before
going through to the bedroom to strip the bed, finding that Marcie had already drawn the
curtains. He gathered the dirty bedclothes, bundling them up with last night’s dirty towel
to put in the kitchen’s washing machine. Then he went to the bathroom to sort through the
laundry, looking for more whites and things to put with his own clothes for a second dark
wash.
Of course he found Marcie’s dirty underwear as he went. He felt guilty for handling it and
noticing its details, but he could not help himself from being a little excited by the satin
briefs with broad lace trim that she seemed to favour. He found it very easy to imagine
them up against the divine Vixen that he’d been so close to just hours earlier. He sorted
them into the appropriate piles along with her blouses and her socks. He was less sure of
washing the thick skirt and trousers that he found though, just in case they were hand wash
or dry clean only. He also hesitated about putting the bras and tights that he found in,
having a vague understanding that it was somehow risky to be careless with them. That did
not stop him from admiring the details of Marcie’s used bras though, daydreaming about
their loose satin and lace cups being filled by her soft breasts.
He tried to find a more practical business-like frame of mind as he worked out how to use
the washing machine, then ran a bowl of soapy water to wash the breakfast pots too. But
when he’d done this and gone back through to the bedroom to open the windows and
make the bed up again, he had a surprise that brought his mind right back to that most
intimate and personal part of Marcie’s body.
As he pulled out the drawer underneath the bed to find the clean sheets, he saw an open
box of colourful objects resting next to the white bedclothes. He immediately saw that some
of these were sex toys, and he guessed the other gadgets that he did not recognise must be
too. He remembered Marcie getting a tube of intimate gel from this drawer on the night
before last, and now he realised exactly how she might have been using it.
With careful respect and a hint of guilty trepidation, he raised one vivid purple dildo up
from the box, noting the soft gel texture of its ribbed surface and its ear-like protuberances.
He knew this was an example of the classic rabbit vibrator, and his mind was eagerly
visualising Marcie using this. He could picture her inserting its lubricated shaft into her
vagina while she guided those ears to her clitoris. He guessed that she’d find it easy to
reach her orgasm in this way, just like another girlfriend he’d know who’d used one
somewhat like this.
He realised that he wanted to see her use it too, that he wanted to help her to do so if he
could, and that he wanted to show her how the length of its long synthetic shaft compared
to his own natural manhood when he was stiff. He wanted to confirm that this simple
device could bring her the ecstasy of orgasm, to learn if she could come multiple times with
it, and to know if it made her leak in her moment of release, all as she’d described last night.
He also sincerely hoped that she would not mind that he’d found this and her other toys,
but he thought that unlikely. They had already been very open with each other, in their
conversation and their modest sexual adventures so far. Also, she had directed him to this
drawer without hesitation earlier that morning, and he felt sure, in her librarian’s mind,
she would not have forgotten what else she kept here.
With a hint of regret that he could do nothing about these thoughts now, he put the
vibrator back carefully and diligently started to make the bed, closing the window again
before he left the room. The washing machine still had some time to go, and he felt it was
too early to try setting things up for this evening, so he settled down on the sofa to read
Marcie’s precious book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
He opened the book carefully, but was still surprised when something fell out of it. It was
an old postcard showing a cartoon illustration of what Ben guessed was a beaver under an
oversized daisy, with the caption, “Thinking of you.” Ben turned it over to see the careful
looping handwriting that he remembered being so typical of girls at school, back when they
stuck to giggling gangs and didn’t speak to the boys. Without thinking, he went ahead and
read it.
“Dear Marcie, I am in Scotland. We went to Fort William and I bought this card. Thank you
for being my friend at MGS. I wish you were here. Yours sincerely, Amber.” A rounded heart
with a simple smiling cartoon face had been drawn beside the last line, as if to contradict its
formality. Alongside was a carefully laid out Manchester address beneath the old stamp and
postmark.
He was touched by the simple honesty of this message, echoing the kitsch slogan on the
picture. He remembered Marcie mentioning her special relationship with Amber, and he
guessed that this card might date back to the very start of their friendship, soon after
they’d both started at senior school. He felt slightly ashamed that he’d read it now, but
Marcie had obviously left this here as her bookmark, so he began using it in the same way,
holding both it and the book carefully as he started reading.
As he began the first chapter, he realised it was written as if it were being read aloud. He
found it very easy to imagine Marcie’s voice delivering the words calmly and steadily, just
as she had when she’d read from Mort to him on his first night in the flat. As she had
forewarned, the voices of the children seemed very stilted and old-fashioned, but he found
that he liked them more for it. To Ben, it seemed as if they were the kind of children who
would get picked on and bullied at school for no fault of their own, but they muddled along
well enough as siblings. It was easy to think of them at ease in each others’ company,
getting a kind of comfort from being together, even whilst being anxious evacuees in a
strange house. They certainly seemed closer than he had ever felt with his brother.
He could clearly visualise the old grandfatherly professor and his house too. The man
sounded nothing like Richard, the real professor who had made such a poor impression on
both the times that Ben had met him. Rather, he seemed something like a clever and
slightly serious Father Christmas. Ben could also easily imagine the house as Cragside, but
perhaps with less fine art and more clutter, like those suits of armour and all the books that
Marcie must have enjoyed reading about.
He’d picked up on other details that the author seemed to have emphasised in his own
excitement, about the nearby mountains and the wild animals that the children hoped to
see. At first Ben had imagined the mountains might imply that the house was in Scotland,
perhaps as he’d just read Amber’s card. But then when he heard the rain described, his
mind went to the Lake District instead.
His mind latched on one other thing that the author probably hadn’t intended though.
Given what he and Marcie had got up to and what they’d talked about the night before, he
saw something very smutty in the line, “There was nothing Lucy liked so much as the smell
and feel of fur.” However, when it turned out that she was pushing through this fur to reach
a strange and magical place, Ben began to seriously wonder if the wardrobe of the book’s
title was genuinely a symbol for the vagina.
The way that the story was being told had hooked him though, so that when the washing
machine beeped and clunked at the end of its cycle, he ignored it, reading on to learn more
about the dark snowy wood, and then the faun too. This character seemed a strange
mixture to Ben. On the one hand, it was that horny ancient creature from those violent
rapacious myths that Marcie had given him an insight into yesterday. On the other hand
however, he seemed totally unthreatening, like a mundane old-fashioned Englishman with
his umbrella and Christmas parcels.
Ben recognised that the end of the book’s first chapter was a good place to leave it though.
He carefully set it aside with its precious bookmark in place, leaving it to go and sort out
the washing. He’d found a wash basket with the pegs, and used it to empty the machine,
which he then reloaded, before slipping his shoes on and unbolting the back door to
investigate the line. It was loose, but Ben found it wasn’t too awkward to unknot its end
and resecure it with good tension.
As he was hanging the washing, he heard the door to Shona’s kitchen open behind him. He
turned, expecting to see her standing at the top of the steps with the boys around her feet
again. Instead he saw a stocky man with short thin black hair.
“You must be Ben,” he called down in a friendly way, “Shona told me that you were
stopping over with Marcie now. I’m your neighbour, Ali. Come up and say hi when you’re
done.”
Ben felt a bit anxious about visiting Ali and family without Marcie there, but once he’d
pegged all the washing out, he climbed the steps to knock gently on their back door.
Ali opened the door and greeted him eagerly with a vigorous handshake. He immediately
offered Ben a tea or coffee, which Ben felt obliged to accept. He was genuinely thankful for
the offer, but he still felt as if he were taking advantage of Ali’s kindness. The smiling man
eagerly ushered Ben into their living room anyway, so Ben slipped off his shoes and went
through. He saw the room’s plan matched Marcie’s, with a dining table and soft chairs too,
but it seemed considerably more heavily used, with toys scattered on the floor next to a
baby bouncer and piles of stacked plastic boxes. Shona was sitting on the floor, dividing her
attention between little Zain and the grouchy Fiona. She seemed a bit surprised to see Ben
when she looked up, but greeted him politely.
“We’ve got a houseful again with Cal still out on Easter holiday. They’re climbing the walls
a bit,” Ali explained, his enthusiastic tone offsetting what might have been a complaint. “Cal!
Where are you? Ben’s here,” he shouted into the hallway, before continuing more
conversationally “I’ve been banking my hours so I can help out a bit more until he goes
back. I’m taking time off this morning. Did Shona say that I was a social worker?”
Cal arrived at that moment with a thunder of feet, clutching another Lego model. “I built it
better!” he shouted at Ben by way of greeting, proudly holding up what must have still been
an aeroplane in his mind. Ben took it respectfully and made a show of admiring it.
“He’s been telling us all about your Lego skills,” Ali explained with a chuckle. “We might
have to co-opt you into regular service, if it helps to distract him from needling his
brother!”
When Ali returned to the kitchen, calling out to ask Ben how he took his tea, Ben got down
onto to floor himself as he answered. He’d handed Cal’s model back and now listened to
him explain how it worked in his imagination, also giving attention to Zain when he tried to
interrupt. Meanwhile the baby seemed to be getting more agitated in her bouncing chair
despite Shona’s cooing.
“Does she need a change?” Ali asked as he came back with a mug, putting it on a shelf for
Ben, away from small hands, before taking a seat at the table.
“No,” Shona confirmed as she lifted the tiny girl from her bouncer to sniff her nappy.
“Is she ready for her elevenses already then?”
“Maybe. I’ll go to the bedroom to feed her.”
“Why? I’m sure Ben wouldn’t mind. You don’t avoid cafes with those breastfeeding-
friendly stickers, do you?” Ali asked him directly with a calmly reassuring smile.
Ben had been keeping out of their conversation, already feeling that he might have been
intruding, but he confirmed that he certainly didn’t mind.
“Well maybe I mind. Maybe Marcie would mind,” Shona shot back at Ali in a slightly snippy
way.
“Don’t be daft,” he rebutted, “You must have fed these three in front of thousands over the
years, and in front of Marcie too.”
Ben felt Shona may have been carrying some residual suspicion of him that Ali was perhaps
wilfully ignoring, but she evidently conceded his argument as she settled into a soft chair
with the baby cradled to her. “Pass me that muslin then,” she ordered Ali as she began
unbuttoning her blouse.
“Fifi’s milk again!” Zain said in an exaggerated way that Ben guessed was part of a regular
act. Cal told him to shut up, clearly frustrated by the routine himself, then Ali told them
both to behave and be polite for their guest. Meanwhile Ben looked away demurely,
reaching up to take his mug and sip his tea before carefully placing it back. But he
automatically looked straight back at Shona when she asked him directly, “So what’s the
story, Ben? Are you just Marcie’s friend, or are you her new boyfriend?”
He saw Shona’s sturdy utilitarian bra exposed where she’d shrugged her blouse off one
shoulder, and then inadvertently her naked breast too. She had unhooked some catch on
her bra’s strap to pull down one of its plain white cups without hesitation. He could not
help himself from noticing the full mass of Shona’s breast, pale skinned with a clear web of
blue veins, its wide round curve hanging down heavily. He saw its big nipple standing
proud from the pale pink circle of her puffy areola, and both seemed somehow greasy. He
glanced away immediately, before Shona had even started lifting the mewling Fiona to
herself, but the visual impression had stuck vividly in his mind.
“Aye, I’m her boyfriend,” he admitted shyly, “Erm, that’s kind of hot off the press, actually.
We sort of agreed that on Tuesday night.”
“Just after I heard her kick Richard out?” Shona queried, but her assertive tone implied that
she was just confirming what she’d already assumed. Ben was keeping his eyes low,
watching Cal’s little hands on his Lego model, but then thought that too may seem impolite,
so he raised them to look Shona directly in the eye to say yes.
“She doesn’t let the grass grow under her feet!” Ali said with a light laugh, and Ben
gratefully turned toward him as he went on, “Good for her. Good for both of you,” he added,
raising his own mug of tea as if making a toast. As Zain was pestering and whining at
Shona’s knee, he told him to come over to sit on his lap, then asked Ben, “But did Shona say
you’ve not been well?”
Ben explained about his collapse at the gym and how Marcie had taken him to hospital,
neglecting to mention that she was a stranger to him at that time. Even whilst he was aware
of the slurping sounds of Fiona’s suckling going on just behind him, he briefly summarised
what he knew of his condition for Ali, explaining the pneumoconiosis and how the dust
from his work had caused it. He added that he hoped the doctor might be able to tell him
more at his appointment that afternoon. “Well make sure you ask your doctor lots of
questions,” Ali advised, “It sounds serious, and I’m sorry, the bad news must have been a
shock to you.”
“Well, yes, I guess it’s still sinking in. I’m not sure what happens next,” Ben admitted,
adding sincerely, “But Marcie has been such a bit help. She’s made it all so much more
hopeful, somehow,” he found himself confessing.
“It sounds like you’re making a good team,” Ali observed, “I’ll admit I was a bit worried for
Marcie when Shona explained what had happened with Richard.”
“Is that part of your work then, as a social worker I mean, looking out for, well, aggravation
in relationships?” Ben asked.
“Well, sometimes. I specialise in mental health cases really, people in a very sorry state
who’ve often been that way for years. But yes, abusive partners can be part of the story. If
Marcie does get any trouble from Richard at all though, if she feels threatened by him, you
should tell her to not hesitate in contacting the police. They might not do anything about it
immediately, but it can become important that the incident is logged.”
“I don’t think Marcie needs Ben to tell her that!” Ben heard Shona scoff.
“No,” Ali answered, with what Ben thought might be an apologetic smile for him, “But I
want our neighbours to know there’s support out there.”
“I think what Ali might be trying to say, Ben, is don’t try taking things into your own hands
if Richard turns up again,” Shona judged provocatively, though Ben did not turn toward her.
Then added as if making an aside to Ali over Ben’s head, “I’ll just see if she wants any from
the other side.”
“No, that’s not really what I meant,” Ali explained patiently, then adding in response to the
protests from Zain whom he was still trying to manage, “No, it’s not milk time for you.
You’re the big boy now. Fifi’s the baby.” He turned back to Ben, “Though having seen you
for myself now Ben, and from my memory of Richard, I’m pretty sure who I’d put my
money on if it came to a scrap!”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Ben reassured him, doing his best to ignore the cooing sounds from
Shona behind him, presumably encouraging Fiona to take her other breast with her quiet
baby-talk, “He’s been pretty cool with me, well, rude even, both times that I’ve met with
him, but he seemed rational, like he wouldn’t give in to a jealous impulse.”
“Maybe, but if I were you, I’d be cautious of turning my back on him,” Ali said, though still
in a light-hearted way, “He might yet try to do something stupid. You know what they say,
‘All’s fair in love and war,’ and I don’t imagine he’s delighted about losing his brilliant
young girlfriend to a chippy, if you don’t mind me saying it as he’d see it.”
“No problem,” Ben replied, feeling growing rapport with Ali, “Though it’s really just tree
surgery I do, and timber processing too. I guess I’m above a basic DIY level for carpentry
and joinery, but I’m no professional. And I don’t know what I am now, if I’ve got to avoid
wood dust. Anyway, I think Richard is history now. Marcie and I are thinking of the future,
though I don’t really know what that will bring for myself.”
“It sounds like you’ve both got a positive outlook though, which is great,” Ali said
enthusiastically, “And you seem to be good with kids too,” he added. He’d obviously
noticed that Ben had simultaneously been managing to keep Cal busy with adding extra
Lego pieces to his model during their conversation. “I’m not implying you’re planning that
far ahead with Marcie yet!” Ali rushed to clarify, with a laugh, “Rather I was selfishly
thinking that you could go back to college and train as a social worker, or something, to
work with children.”
Again Shona scoffed, “It took you five years of university study to get approved. Ben
doesn’t want to start all that, do you Ben?”
Ben turned in response to Shona’s direct question to confirm that he didn’t, but once again
unintentionally caught sight of her breast. She had moved Fiona onto her other side and
held her reclining body in one arm now. Ben could see her bra’s detachable white panel
once again covered the first breast that he’d seen, but the other was exposed now. Ben saw
the same thin pale skin and bulging pink areola, but the proud nipple seeming even bigger
now that she’d nursed Fiona, perhaps as large as the tip of Ben’s little finger. All this
glistened with what he guessed was the slick mixture of leaking milk and the baby’s saliva.
His brief glimpse had caught Shona in the act of wiping herself dry though, it seemed. Her
hand was under her breast, wrapped in the muslin cloth, pushing herself up in a way that
made the heavy volume of her breast abundantly clear.
Ben could not help himself from having the absurd thought that she was offering up that
milky teat to him. It was as if she was raising her full and bounteous breast directly towards
him, pointing her engorged life-sustaining nipple at his own mouth. He had the briefest idea
that he was the child supplicant himself, squatting on the domestic temple floor, bowing
below the throne of the fertile mother goddess, just like the frustrated Zain.
But he instantly turned back to Ali after he’d said no to Shona, feeling heat rising to his
cheeks. “Shona’s right,” picking up his tea to finish it as he spoke, looking at his mug to
cover his embarrassment, “I couldn’t study at university. I don’t have any A-Levels, and I
was never much good at exams.”
“I’m not going to put any pressure on you to go into social work, don’t worry!” Ali said
with a light chuckle. If he was offended or annoyed by Ben looking at his wife’s naked
breast, he gave no sign of it. He went on, “Though there are other routes into the profession,
like apprenticeships. No, I reckon there must be hundreds of other jobs out there that you
would do well in and enjoy that don’t involve working in clouds of sawdust. How we did at
school becomes less and less important as we get older. Being able to show that we’ve got a
good attitude to work, and to working well with other people, matters so much more, and
as I said, you seem to have that positive friendly outlook.”
“Well, thank you,” Ben said, grateful for Ali’s encouragement, even whilst he still helped Cal
to fiddle with his Lego.
“When you’ve finished giving your life coaching positive affirmation crap,” Ben heard
Shona say, “Perhaps you’d like to take your daughter while I get myself some clean pads?”
Ali made a movement to get up, but Zain clung to him, protesting. “Perhaps Ben would like
to hold her?” he suggested instead. “Have you winded a baby before?”
“I remember doing it when my cousins were tiny. I’d put them on my shoulder and pat
their backs, or sort of rub them,” Ben confirmed.
“There you are then. Do you want to pass her over to Ben, love? Sorry Cal, you’ll have to
spare your excellent build buddy for a little while.”
Ben turned with a somewhat forced smile to take Fiona from Shona. He tried to keep his
eyes on hers and on the baby, but he inevitably noticed that her blouse was still open.
Though her bra covered both her full breasts now, he could still see all her wide deep
cleavage. She carelessly passed him the same cloth that she’d been using, which he slung
over his shoulder, before taking Fiona in both hands. He held her securely against his chest
as he rose to his feet, Shona now standing up too as she finally began buttoning her blouse.
He made some cooing noises, checked that the warm and slightly damp muslin cloth was
covering his shoulder, and began gently patting the contented heavy baby.
As Shona left the room for the bathroom, he turned back towards the window, carefully
picking his feet over the Lego. Ali must have noticed this, saying, “You’re right to be careful
there. I stood on a brick, when was it, the night before last? It was just after we’d got the
kids to bed, but I came down so hard on it, I stumbled and knocked over a chair! We were
worried the bang would wake the kids up all over again, but I guess we might have
disturbed you two downstairs as well.”
“Aye, I think we heard it,” Ben confirmed, thinking of the sound that had interrupted his
first true moment of intimacy with Marcie, “But it was no problem.” As he held Fiona tight
against him, he could feel the warmth of her chubby body and the tickle of her thin hair
against his cheek. He noticed her baby-smell too, of fresh laundry, clean skin, her slightly
fusty scalp and of course a rich milkiness. Then he was aware that she’d given a kind of
hiccup of a burp, and there was a sensation of wet warmth against the skin of his neck.
“Whoops! There’s a bit of leakage there,” Ali joked as he noticed Ben dabbing at the posset
with a corner of the muslin. “At least it’s all natural. I wouldn’t leave it lying around for too
long though, or else it’ll go manky. Just rinse it out once you get home.”
Ben thought Ali’s words were familiar, then he remembered that Marcie had said
something very similar about the bodily fluids of love-making. He again felt embarrassed,
by recalling that whilst acting as the guest inside his neighbour’s flat, and by his
unconscious association of that memory to the sensation of the wet warmth that was now
soaking his t-shirt. He was suddenly acutely aware that Fiona had regurgitated a bit of the
creamy milk that she’d only just drawn from Shona’s breast, and that it was therefore
Shona’s own intimate bodily fluid that was making his shoulder damp.
“Aye, again, no problem,” Ben said, trying to reassure Ali, then adding, perhaps because of
his embarrassment, “I’m sorry if I’ve been intruding on you and Shona.”
“Don’t be daft! It’s been great to meet you. We’ve only just started to get to know Marcie,
but I’m sure we can all be good neighbours for each other,” he lowered his voice as he
glanced towards the bathroom, “And don’t mind Shona if she’s come over a bit grouchy.
Having three is a bit of a handful, and it was a restless night.” He spoke up again as he heard
the bathroom door opening, “So another early night in for us, but have you two got
something more interesting lined up for this evening yourselves?”
“We’re going down town for a pizza, actually,” Ben confirmed, still gently rubbing the
drowsy Fiona.
“Ahh, these carefree young things, eh love? Going out for a meal together on a Thursday
night!” Ali joked with Shona as she came back into the room. She curtly acknowledged him,
then held her hands out for Ben to hand Fiona back, which he did. He bundled up the wet
muslin cloth a little guiltily, but Ali stuck his hand out to take it, “I’ll put that in the wash.
Ben’s been very good with her, love. We’d better be careful or we’ll make him come over
all broody, and Marcie wouldn’t thank us for that!”
Ben felt embarrassed once again, but thinking of Ali’s earlier comment about being
neighbourly, he said, “But seriously, Marcie and I could maybe babysit sometime, give you a
chance to get out for a meal together too.”
“Thank you Ben, that’s very kind of you to say, but I wouldn’t want you to commit on
Marcie’s behalf too,” Ali replied, “It would be a big ask, and we like being with the kids
anyway. Let’s leave it as something to think about for later, maybe, but we’d better let you
get off now. Maybe Shona might appreciate your company another time though, with
Marcie or just yourself if you’re home alone, right love?”
“Aye,” Shona admitted perhaps a little sheepishly, “You pop up for a cup of tea anytime, so
long you don’t mind finding us in a bit of a state.”
Ben thanked them both sincerely as he made a move towards the back door. He felt that
despite his shame at his inadvertent lechery of Shona’s breastfeeding, the couple were
genuinely welcoming him into their lives. He also felt sympathy for Shona’s possible
loneliness, if she were stuck at home with two demanding boys and a baby that was utterly
dependent on her. He resolved to himself that he would speak to Marcie about it. He still
felt a little awkward at the thought of visiting Shona on his own, even though Ali had
suggested it. A part of him felt he ought to ensure that he had Marcie’s permission too, lest
she felt at all jealous at his meeting another woman alone. Yet he was also sure that
romantic thoughts were a million miles from Shona’s mind, as a strung-out young mother
with an evidently kind and supportive husband.
He raised his hand as he said goodbye to Shona, who was now checking again if Fiona had
filled her nappy, then waved an enthusiastic farewell to the boys too, before thanking Ali.
“Any time, seriously,” he replied, rising to his feet with Zain in his arms, walking the few
steps to the back door with Ben, “And good luck with the doctor. Remember to ask lots of
questions. And enjoy your meal out!”
Chapter 14
Ben waved a final farewell to Ali as he began descending the steps, then went inside to
check the washing’s progress. But once back in Marcie’s kitchen, he suddenly felt what he
supposed was a wave of melancholy. He paused, hands resting on edge of the sink, staring
into the lacklustre yard beyond. Beneath the white sheet hanging limply from the
clothesline, he saw the faded plastic of a toddler’s sit-on car that lay neglected on its side.
Perhaps it had been Cal’s, but now it was maybe already too small for Zain, yet with a little
more care it may still suit Fiona soon. Was this his life now, thinking of the housework and
the neighbour’s children’s needs, getting a thrill from a sneaky glance at a nursing
mother’s breast, all within the tiny confines of a Tyneside flat’s backyard? It felt as if he’d
suddenly and incomprehensibly managed to stumble into a complete stranger’s unenviable
life.
He turned the kitchen tap on, splashed his face, and firmly decided that would not be his
path. For sure, he would help out around the flat as much as he possibly could, doing the
routine tasks that were the fundamentals of life promptly and thoroughly, but guided by his
love of Marcie and his respect for their shared home. Just because it seemed unlikely that
he would be swinging a chainsaw around for a while, that did not mean his life had shrunk.
On the contrary, the future was wide open to him, just as Ali had said. But Marcie had
spoken of it too. The rising wind from the huge sky was stirring through him now. He
imagined it surrounding him with the sound of rustling leaves which trembled in sympathy
for his anticipation. Or perhaps it was like the change in the weather out at sea that
suddenly brought the sails snapping around, lifting the eager keel beneath him when he
was far from land, in mutual trust with his companions in the crew.
And so in his mind this all came back to Marcie. He imagined her as an angel that had swept
down to take him in her arms, the strength of her powerful wings lifting them both aloft
easily. But he immediately challenged that thought, because she was a real woman, just
another human being who was muddling along through her own struggles. He knew she
would not thank him for putting her on a pedestal like her family’s Catholic saints. If there
was an angelic force at work, it was their shared love. So he was borne aloft in her arms,
but it was by a fresh magic that they made together, a fire that they had kindled, he now
thought as his mind slipped to another metaphor. He knew, standing at the dull sink, that
he wanted to do everything in his power to carefully tend that fire, so that it did not go out,
but so that it didn’t run dangerously out of control either. Last night it felt as if they’d
talked about some mad stuff that he’d never shared with anyone, and that had made it feel
like anything was possible. But he realised now that it was important to keep things safe
too, to do all the normal things that a couple did, to show Marcie how special she was, and
to keep talking openly and honestly.
He wondered if he’d be able to explain this to her, but at a more practical level he realised
that he’d better get on with messaging his friends and booking the table for their night out
too.
With a few minutes still left on the washing machine, Ben found a copy of the Thompson
directory on Marcie’s shelves, then found the number for the pizza restaurant that he knew.
Using his own mobile, it was no trouble booking a table for two. Then he began working
through his mental list of friends, thinking of couples who might like to join them for a
drink. He composed text messages to send, then thought of passing on his news to a few
other friends too. Before he’d finished, his phone rang in his hand as the second person
he’d thought of called him back.
He had a quick chat with Geoff, who seemed genuinely concerned to hear he’d been so
unwell, but was also very glad to hear he was keeping safe with a new girlfriend. They
agreed to meet as a foursome, with Geoff’s lively girlfriend Sofie, at a bar that they figured
wouldn’t be too busy on a Thursday. They guessed they’d be fine there whether or not
others could join them, and Geoff agreed that it didn’t need to be an epic session.
Ben had turned the washing machine off while he was talking to stop it from beeping, but
he’d just started unloading it when his mobile rang again. He was worried it might be Geoff
calling back to say that he and Sofie couldn’t make it after all, but he was delighted when he
heard Marcie’s voice.
She briefly checked that he was okay, then told him that she’d just spoken to Student
Support. He suddenly felt anxious for her and guilty that he’d not thought to contact her
earlier, as she was obviously agitated or a bit distressed. He tried to give a heartfelt apology,
then asked her how it had gone.
“Oh don’t be silly,” she said, dismissing his apology, “They were fine actually, very helpful. I
don’t know why I’m upset. The woman I spoke to seemed a bit snooty at first, but as I
explained the full details I think she was quite shocked, then she became very sympathetic
and supportive. I’ve got an appointment to see a senior supervisor or someone next week,
but she told me not to worry about a thing. She was crystal clear that the support team
would do everything they could to help me find a new tutor, someone who was right for me,
perhaps even just leaning on my secondary supervisor at the library to give me more
support. She also stressed that I could take as much time as I needed, to review what I
wanted and perhaps even shift subjects. But she reassured me that in her experience, there
was no reason at all why switching tutors would delay my PhD timeline.”
“So Richard lied yesterday, about this setting you back?” Ben asked, getting up to speed
with what Marcie was telling him.
“No! Would you believe it?” she exclaimed in mock surprise, “He was just spinning a yarn
to put me off my plan to cut him out! Anyway, it all goes to show, he is so much history now.
I did wonder though, reading between the lines so to speak, whether the woman I spoke to
might also be kicking off an investigation into Professor York’s professional conduct. I
guess I’m hardly the first student to have let their supervisor get a bit too close, and my call
might have triggered some heavy-weight university processes. He may be about to find out
that it’s not quite so easy for him to just walk away from his little dalliance.”
“Will you be okay with that, if there’s like, I don’t know, a tribunal or something?”
“Sure, I’ll stand up and say exactly what went on, in front of the university VC if it helps.
But who knows what’s further down the line? At least I’ve got my appointment next week,
and some time to think about my topics too. Then we’ll take it from there.”
“Yes,” Ben agreed sincerely, “We will, together. I want to support you through this, Marcie.”
“Oh Ben, you are!” she replied earnestly, “But I’m sorry, I need to get back to my desk now.
I’ll see you at half one, okay? A bit before if I can slip away. Take care. Enjoy your lunch.”
Ben just had time to thank her for calling, then she was gone. He realised he’d not told her
anything about the plans he’d made for the evening, nor what he’d been up to with Ali and
Shona. As he started hanging out the second load of washing on the line, he decided he’d
tell her everything face to face though, instead of trying to call back or texting when she
clearly had enough on with her shift’s busy demands.
Once he was back inside, Ben checked his phone and saw some kind replies to his messages,
but it seemed no one else would be joining them this evening. He also saw it was still too
early for lunch, so he decided it was fine to lounge on the sofa with Marcie’s precious
children’s book again.
As he read about Lucy going home with the faun, he immediately thought of the
paedophilia stranger danger, but he realised he was perhaps being too suspicious in a jaded,
modern way as he read on about the faun’s cosy tea. But then the mention of the dryads
and so on that Marcie had spoken of in the Dene made him wonder again if the author was
giving his child readers glimpses into a dangerous world of pagan sexuality. And then he
read on with gripped fascination that the faun was indeed a kind of predator, seeing the
chilling realisation dawn on Lucy’s that she was his prey, even whilst she tried calmly
pleading to his better nature.
Ben recognised that his strong response to the slightly stuffy old story was so visceral
because it had stirred a powerful sympathy for Marcie’s exploitation by Richard too. He
wondered to himself if he was trivialising Marcie’s real experience though, even as he kept
reading about the fictional Lucy. He felt so glad for her when the faun repented, taking her
back safely to the wardrobe. He closed the book carefully on the treasured bookmark at the
end of the chapter, leaning back in surprise at the intensity that he’d engaged with the
story. He wanted to talk to Marcie about it, but he already had so much to catch up on with
her.
He found the small piece of paper that he’d used for yesterday’s shopping list, and placed it
on the table with a pen, before making a cheese sandwich for himself. Once he came back to
the table with his simple lunch, he tried to remember everything that he wanted to share
with Marcie. He started with ‘supervisor change’ and ‘Lucy’s trap’, then added ‘night out:
Geoff, Sofie’ before pausing to think and chew. He realised what he needed to admit to
though, so he wrote ‘Shona feeding’ and ‘bed toys’ too. He knew he also wanted to share
something of his thoughts at the kitchen sink, but all he could think to note down were the
words ‘air’ and ‘fire’.
As he read the list back, he realised there was nothing about his big personal worries there,
about his health and his work, about all his dusty stuff locked away in his dangerous flat, or
about his big worry - that he was clueless about his future purpose in life, to put it bluntly.
He decided it was best to remember Marcie’s advice and example though, to just look at the
next step. She’d take him to the doctors, then they’d have a meal out like a proper couple,
which he knew to be exactly what they were.
He finished his lunch with an apple, but decided not to try picking up Marcie’s precious
book to read while he was eating. Once he’d tidied up, he wondered what else to do while
he waited for her to get home. He checked the washing and the clear sky, then thought of
his small pile of clothes in the spare room. It felt like a charade to have them still there as if
he were a house guest, but he could hardly move them into Marcie’s bedroom without
discussing it with her first. He decided that he could safely take down the camp bed though.
He was still tidying things up in the spare room when he heard Marcie’s key in the front
door, earlier than expected. His heart leapt as she called out in a joking tone, “Hi honey, I’m
home!”
He met her in the hallway as she dropped her bag and lifted her hands to his face to give
him a wet smooching kiss. “Hmm, it’s good to see you,” she said, breaking away to squat
down and slip off her shoes. Then she saw what he’d been doing. “Oh, that’s a good idea!
Did you see the bags for all that stuff in the cupboard?” she asked, thumping the small door
to the space under the other flat’s stairs to graphically demonstrate where she meant.
“We’ll finish off together when we get back from the doctors. I’ll just have a wee, then are
you ready to go?”
Ben asked if she wanted to get some lunch for herself, but Marcie said she’d already had a
snack and she didn’t want to be late for his important appointment as he followed her
through the living room. Then she saw his list on the table and automatically picked it up.
“More shopping?” she asked, reading it briefly, then saying, “Or not.”
Ben felt a little embarrassed, admitting, “It’s just a reminder, for me, of things to mention,
to you.”
“Well, we can talk about them all in the car,” she said brightly as she went through the
kitchen without taking her jacket off, adding, “Oh! You’ve put loads of washing out too.
Thank you!” as she disappeared into the bathroom. “Do you need to pick up anything
before we go?” she prompted, speaking loudly even though she’d left the door ajar. Ben
could clearly hear the sound of her gushing urine too, and was reminded again of how at
ease she seemed with him.
He quickly found his phone and his own jacket, then thought to recover the papers that the
hospital had given him, along with his list and the pen from the table. As Marcie came back
to the living room herself, he was glad that she put her arms out to give him a big hug. As he
put his arms around her, burying his nose in her neatly pinned hair and running his palms
over the rough fabric across her shoulder blades, she put her cold damp hands under his
loose t-shirt. He exclaimed, just as she’d anticipated, as she gave a sly chortling laugh, but
he actually found the sensation on his bare skin excitingly stimulating. They kissed again,
but only briefly as Marcie leaned further back to say, “I’ve missed you. You’ve been okay?”
Ben assured her that he had, then she was all business-like again, confirming his doctor’s
address and planning the route as she led them out to the car.
“So your bit of paper was a list of things to talk to me about, was it?” Marcie asked as they
walked down the pavement, gesturing to it where he gripped it with the hospital letters. “I
think I remember a few lines from glancing at it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. But the
first was about my call to Student Support and switching tutors, right?” Ben confirmed it
was as they got into her car, reassuring her that he wasn’t trying to keep secrets from her.
“Well, that’s sorted, isn’t it?” Marcie said assertively as she started the engine and then
pulled out, “I spoke to them, I’ve got an appointment, I’ll have a think about my research
topics, then we’ll take it from there.”
“I guess there’s more to it than that,” Ben argued, “It’s a big step. I want to help. We can
talk about it.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, briefly turning to give him a sad smile, “But you were there when I
needed you, when I called you from work, and I’m really glad you were. And now I’m off
work, looking after you. We can put my troubles away for now. There will be plenty of time
to let things shake down, but we don’t need to pick and fuss at it. What was next on your
list, something about a Lucy? Is this someone you forget to tell me about last night? You
don’t have to share all your guilty secrets with me, you know.”
“No!” Ben reassured her, “It was nothing like that. It was Lucy in your book, The Lion,
Witch and Wardrobe.”
Marcie laughed lightly, “Oh, that Lucy! You’re getting into the story, then?”
“Yes, very much. I was wondering though, if you’d felt like Lucy sometimes?” he asked,
unsure of how to express everything he’d felt for the character.
“Ooh, I’d have to think about that. Let’s postpone that one for a proper chat later. Was
there something on your list about our night out too, right?”
Ben was surprised at how much Marcie had taken in from her brief glance, but he answered
simply, “Aye. I’ve booked a table for the two at that pizza place, then I thought we could
meet my friend for a drink, Geoff, and his girlfriend Sofie. I hope that’s okay?”
“Yes, that’s perfect,” Marcie reassured him, “I said I wanted a proper night out, and you’ve
arranged it all. I hope you warned your friends that we might not want to stay out too
late?” Ben confirmed he had, then she asked about the couple.
“I met Geoff in Tynemouth, sailing, years ago. He’s was sparky, an electrician, on industrial
sites often. Now he’s like a project manager for construction, I guess. He got together with
Sofie a couple of years ago. She works at BT. I think you’ll get on well with her. Geoff’s easy
company too.”
“I’ll look forward to meeting them then. But what was next? Did I see you’d written
Shona’s name down?”
“Blimey, you remember things well!” Ben exclaimed, feeling embarrassed again.
“A list, a librarian, go figure. Part of my brain would be trying to alphabetise and categorise
it before I’d even stopped to think I might be reading something personal. It was a surprise
to see ‘Shona feeding’ in your handwriting though. What did you mean, I wonder?”
“Well, I met Ali, he saw me hanging the washing out, and he invited me up for a cup of tea,”
Ben began cautiously as Marcie nudged along with the traffic.
“That’s nice. You got on well then?” she asked, with perhaps a teasing tone.
“Yes, he was very supportive actually, encouraging. But Shona and the kids were there too,
of course, and, well, she gave baby Fiona a feed. She was breastfeeding her, you know, while
I was there.”
“Ahh! And you got a good eyeful, then? You said last night that you were a bit of a
connoisseur for the ladies’ mammaries, I think. Would you rate hers highly? Should I be
getting jealous?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Ben protested, feeling his cheeks burn. “I couldn’t help myself. I did
see her breast, well, both actually, one before and one after Fiona’s feed. But it was an
accident. I just glanced in her direction. But also I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you.
And I wondered again about maybe helping out, with babysitting or whatever.”
“I was teasing. Poor Shona. I don’t think she knows if she’s coming or going most of the
time with three to look after. I really can’t imagine she’d have the headspace to think of
flirting with her neighbour’s new boyfriend. She’s fed Fiona in front of me too. It was a bit
unexpected the first time, but that’s just because I don’t really know other people at that
stage in their lives, with babies. You’re right though, too. We can help out. And I promise I
won’t tease you about just wanting to go up to Shona’s to look at her boobies. But you
really noticed, right?” she asked with curiosity and perhaps sympathy too.
“I guess so,” Ben admitted guiltily.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You’re a hetro male who’s probably quite revved up at the
moment anyway, with everything we’ve been doing, and not quite doing. You’ve already
told me you can be turned on by a woman’s breasts, and that’s hardly a shocking surprise.
And now you’re making a real effort to be honest with me. That’s all good, Ben. Your
passion is healthy. I’m really keen to see it in action more, actually. I think I said, well, you
can let your desires flow freely with me. As long as your poor lungs can cope with your
racing heart, you can suck my nipples until they’re sore. I think I’ve got as much flesh as
Shona to fill your mouth, even if mine aren’t leaking milk. But I’m letting myself get
distracted now! I should be concentrating on the road here.”
Ben had felt reassured and even quite excited by Marcie’s words, but he too focused his
attention on finding their directions. They came off the main road after the Byker Bridge,
then searched successfully for a parking spot near his doctors.
“We’re a bit early now,” Marcie observed as she stopped the engine and a kind of quiet
descended, “Was there more from your list you wanted to mention before we go to the
waiting room?”
“Yes,” Ben confessed, listening to the noises of the city, but aware that no one could
overhear them in the car, “I don’t know if you read it, but there was something else. I’m
sorry, but I saw your toys too. I wasn’t trying to spy, I just opened the drawer. You’d said
the clean sheets were in there.”
“Yes I did, didn’t I? And thank you again for changing the bed. I’ll look forward to snuggling
up in fresh sheets later,” she said, smiling warmly as she reached out to hold Ben’s hand.
Yet she didn’t pause before continuing, “But I think I knew what you’d find, what you’d see.
I think I wanted to share it all with you, especially after we’d talked about it last night,
about me using sex toys. Maybe I liked the thought of you finding them back at the flat, and
maybe imagining me playing with them too, whilst at the same time I was away being the
polite professional librarian at work. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Were you
shocked?”
“Erm, no, not shocked,” Ben answered, taking her hand in both of his now, letting the
paperwork he’d been holding slide away, “I was a bit surprised, that you had so many. Not
that it’s many really,” he hastily backtracked, “Just, I don’t know, thinking of old girlfriends
I guess, I thought they just had one they used.”
“Well, perhaps I got a bit carried away with ordering them after reading those features in
Cosmo, trying out all the different types and models they’d reviewed. Some are more
reliable than others. Some are just awkward and a bit painful. And perhaps your other
girlfriends had more hidden away, but they just didn’t let you see them all. Well, was there
anything that caught your eye especially?” she asked cheekily, clasping their knot of hands
with her remaining free hand.
“I didn’t really look,” he tried to explain, before honestly admitting, “I wasn’t sure how
some worked. I did look at one, a rabbit I guess. I didn’t try turning it on or anything
though”
“The purple one?” Marcie confirmed, “Well, you can guess how that one works, I imagine.
It’s not the most reliable. Its ears are more use than anything else, well, they bring me to
orgasm when sticking the lubricated shaft up myself doesn’t, to speak candidly and
honestly. Were you hoping I’d show you how they all worked sometime?”
“Aye, I guess I was,” Ben admitted, adding hopefully, “You’d really do that with me?”
“Of course! We’d kind of started that last night I thought,” she said with a twinkling smile.
Then she put on an exaggerated accent to add, “Your enthusiasm and interest in the ways
that I make my own pleasure is a refreshing delight, I must say Mister Osborne!”
Ben laughed with her, but he wondered if she were also hinting that her previous
boyfriends, Richard and Jason too perhaps, had neglected her own needs. Silently, he again
revised his personal resolution to find ways to show Marcie how special she was to him, to
not take her for granted.
Marcie let her playful speech roll on, “But also there is so much more that one may do when
one is with another, is there not? Fie, I declare one needs a month of Sundays to do all that
one would wish to with one’s eager beau.”
“Aye, long lazy Sundays, late to rise, early to bed,” Ben said, trying to match her tone as he
looked into her twinkling brown eyes with a smile.
“With lots of slippery sex in the afternoons too!” Marcie concluded with a broad minxish
grin, returning to her normal voice. She leant forwards to give him a tiny peck on the lips
before sighing, then said as she patted his hands, “Come on, lover boy, we’ve got a serious
appointment to keep. Are you ready?”
“Aye, let’s do it,” Ben said, picking up his paperwork. He got out of the car, watched Marcie
lock it, then led her to the surgery.
He remembered the building well enough, even though he’d only been there perhaps three
times in all his years in Newcastle. He felt calm as he introduced himself to the receptionist,
then took a seat in the quiet waiting room with Marcie.
Chapter 15
“Was there anything else is on your list you want to talk about here?” Marcie asked Ben
quietly as they settled down to wait. He held it out so that they could at it together, and she
read the last two items aloud, “Air, fire. Very mysterious. Was it something to do with
elemental alchemy?”
“I don’t know,” Ben admitted, “I was thinking about us, about my feelings, when I was
alone. It made me feel positive. Perhaps it is magic.”
“I’m intrigued, but perhaps it’s better to talk about this later,” Marcie said, glancing around
at the few other people seated in the waiting room then quickly squeezing his knee. “Did
you want to check your hospital letters again before you went in?”
Ben gladly opened them out. “That’s my sick note. This is the discharge form,” he explained.
“These have your Shieldfield address on. Do you think you should give them my address
now?”
“Yes, I think I should. That’s a big step though, isn’t it? It makes it kind of official, our
status,” Ben knew he was skirting around things, trying to avoid saying the bureaucratic
word ‘cohabiting’ out loud. He finished shyly, “But it’s true.”
“Oh Ben, I’m sorry! I keep letting my words run on without thinking, I rush you into saying
things that need time. You’re right, we can talk about it later,” she paused, reaching for his
hand to squeeze it firmly, “But I’m really happy that you think it’s true. Can I see what they
put on your discharge notes?”
As they read it together in silence, Marcie obviously got ahead of him, as she pointed out a
line some way down the page. “Ooh, I’d forgotten that,” she said, her finger under the
words “possible allergic reaction”, but she didn’t say them aloud. She just asked, “Are you
going to ask the doctor about that too?”
“I can do. I’ll try and find out as much as I can.”
Still gripping his hand, she looked deep into his eyes, her mouth making a brave smile,
perhaps to cover up the worry that Ben saw in her own eyes. “It will all work out okay,” he
found himself saying, realising that he was saying it as much to reassure himself as Marcie.
There was a loud beep and Ben glanced up to see his name scroll past on the electronic
display, along with the doctor’s room number. He rose to his feet and gave Marcie a brief
peck on the lips as she reluctantly released his hand. “I’ll be right here,” she promised him
with soulful sincerity.
He turned, stepped into the corridor and saw the room number he was looking for. He gave
a polite knock and stepped in. At the desk he saw an older dark-haired man with a kindly
face.
“Come in, Benjamin. Take a seat. I’m Doctor Jacob Mitrani, I don’t think you’ve seen me
before, but I heard you’ve been in hospital. Is that right?”
Ben explained about his collapse at the gym, getting taken to the RVI by ambulance and
being put on oxygen. He said that the hospital doctor had thought it was an asthma attack,
but he’d had an x-ray and there was something called pneumoconiosis on his lungs from
wood dust. Doctor Mitrani helped him to get the right word for it, then asked about his job
and his workshop, as well as his referral to a consultant. Ben remembered to say that
they’d mentioned a possible allergy in the hospital too.
“Well, yes, an allergic reaction could have developed even if you’ve not had one before. It’s
good if you’ve already been referred for that.” Ben was worried that he might have to
breathe in the dust for the test. Doctor Mitrani explained that the respiratory consultant
might give him some kind of provocation test, but they would probably just check for
allergies with little pricks on his skin, which would be very safe but might make him itch.
The doctor went on to explain that the practice hadn’t had the letter from the hospital, and
that it would be best to wait for the consultant’s diagnosis as the final word. He was glad to
read Ben’s copy of the discharge notes though, then he said that he’d like to listen to Ben’s
chest too. He explained that he wanted to check for asthmatic wheezing and to find out if he
could hear the damage that had been caused by the pneumoconiosis. Ben stood and took
his t-shirt off, feeling as if he were getting used to this routine. After listening carefully all
over Ben’s chest, the doctor seemed satisfied, asking him to pop his shirt back on before
they both sat down again.
“Well, the good news is that your asthma’s not causing a problem right now. It constricts
your lung’s pipes, your bronchioli, and they’re fine for the moment, though I could hear
them struggle a little when I asked you to breathe out fast. But I can also hear what you
might call a rasp or a knocking around the edges of your lungs. Pneumoconiosis gets you
there, in what I’d call the interstitium around your alveoli, where the oxygen crosses over
into your blood. The tiny, microscopic particles of irritating dust have damaged the tissue
there and left it scarred, I’m sorry to say. Do you cough a lot? But you’re not a smoker?
Good. Well, I suggest you wait to see the consultant, who’ll be able to tell you more, but in
the meantime, did the hospital talk to you about treatment?”
“Not really. They didn’t give me any pills to take.”
“Did they explain this is a problem that doesn’t go away? I’m sorry, I know that must be
bad news. But the most important thing to do is to stay away from the dust that caused the
problem in the first place. Do you need a sick note for your employer?”
Ben explained that the hospital had given him one, but when the doctor saw it he agreed to
extend it from the week they’d given him to another whole month. “Again, I’ll ask you to
wait to hear what the consultant says, but I’m sorry that I don’t think you’ll be able to go
back to your old job.”
“Yes, I had guessed that,” Ben said gloomily.
“I wonder, did your employer give you protective equipment and assess how you worked?”
Ben explained that he used disposable masks. “That may not have been enough. Did you
have anything like an extractor fan or a hood over the sawing area? What I’m getting at
here is that the law is pretty strict about employers not exposing their employees to this
kind of thing. Historically you know there were lots of industrial diseases, but the law is
there to protect people like you. It could be they’ve been in breach of health and safety
regulations. You could be owed compensation for being forced out of work.”
“How could I find out?” Ben asked, feeling some surprise at Doctor Mitrani’s thoughts,
whilst also feeling foolish for not having thought of such things for himself earlier.
“I’m sorry, I’m not the expert. Do you have a union?” Ben said not. “Do you think you could
find a suitable lawyer for yourself then?”
Ben’s thoughts went to Marcie. He wondered if she knew someone. “Maybe I could find
one,” he confirmed.
“If you do that, give them my details. They may need to wait for the specialist consultant
too, but I’d be very happy to present any medical evidence that I can. This is a genuine
condition that I’m afraid you’re stuck with now. But we were talking about treatment,
weren’t we? The oxygen that they gave you at the hospital would do you good, and if we
need to, we can arrange for you to have it at home. But for the time being, I can make sure
that we get that asthma under control. We really don’t want you to have another attack like
the one in the gym, and I think we can easily avoid that.”
The doctor said that he would give Ben two inhalers, one to take each morning and evening,
which he called a preventer, and another to carry around with him all the time, called a
reliever. He explained that this was the one that the hospital thought that he should have
had at the gym.
“Take a good puff at the first signs of any wheezing or tightness in your chest and you
should be absolutely fine. I hope you won’t have to use it more than three times in a week,
but I’d like to see you in a week’s time anyway, just to see how you’re getting on.” He went
on to give Ben some more instructions on how to use the inhalers, but said the pharmacist
could show him too. He explained that he would also ask the pharmacist to give him a big
tube that he called a spacer to use with the preventer. “And another thing, remember to
keep all this nice and clean. Just soapy water is fine, but we wouldn’t want you to get a
throat infection like thrush on top of everything else.”
Something was still on Ben’s mind, but he started by asking, “I guess I shouldn’t go back to
my workshop at all, but my flat is right above it. My, erm, girlfriend thinks it is very dusty
too. Will I be okay going back there?”
“Are you staying at your girlfriend’s place now?” Ben confirmed he was. “It might be best if
you carry on like that for the time being. I would imagine that you will find it all right to
pop in and out of your flat, but it may not be a good idea for you to sleep in a dusty
environment. Remember to carry your inhaler when you’re visiting it too.”
“Thank you. And what about going back to the gym? Should I avoid that too?”
“My first impressions on seeing you were that you look fit and healthy, apart from your
lungs, we know now. Were you in the habit of going there regularly?” Ben agreed that he
was. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to stop that. It’s good for your heart and your bones, as
well as all sorts of other things. I would guess by looking at you that your BMI is high. If you
suddenly stopped exercising but didn’t change your diet, you might find that your muscle
turned to fat, in a manner of speaking, which would put another burden on your
cardiovascular system. So I suggest you just try taking your exercises a bit slower, and stop
to give the inhaler a chance to work if you get breathless.”
“So I’m more unfit now?” Ben asked.
“No, I wouldn’t say that. Think of it like this,” Doctor Mitrani suggested, leaning back into
his chair, “The pneumoconiosis has damaged your lungs. If they had five litres of capacity
before, maybe they’ve got three or four litres now. That means you’re getting less oxygen
from the air in every breath, just like someone climbing Everest. If before you could have
climbed up to five thousand metres without an extra oxygen tank, now you could only
climb to three or four thousand metres without one. Those wouldn’t be the numbers really,
but you get the idea. I wouldn’t recommend you book a trip to Nepal to try it out! But
you’re not unfit. Your muscles, your heart and your blood flow are all still good. It’s as if
you just have a slight handicap now that means your performance won’t be what it was.
Just take it a bit easier, and you should be fine. But was there anything else?”
Perhaps the doctor could see that he was still pensive about something, but Ben steeled
himself and went on, “Well, erm, what about sex? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Oh, you must ask if you’re worried about anything at all,” Doctor Mitrani replied with
reassuring confidence, “You do hear stories of men expiring during sexual intercourse,
don’t you? But if you and your girlfriend are alert to the signs and you keep your inhaler
nearby, I would not worry at all.”
“You mean it would be okay?” Ben asked, with relief.
“Yes, I really do think so. I’ve asked you to make another appointment in a week’s time
anyway. If you wanted to tell me anything or ask any more questions then, I would be
happy to help. I won’t probe, so to speak, but you must say if you have any concerns at all
about you or your partner’s sexual health. As a GP, I assure you, I really have heard it all
before. Now, was that all for now?”
When Ben confirmed he didn’t have any more questions, Doctor Mitrani concluded, “Well,
you have your prescription. Ask to make a follow-up appointment at the desk, and I’ll see
you next week. I hope all goes well.”
Ben thanked him, still feeling a little embarrassed, as he took the prescription, stood up and
left. Marcie was pleased to see him when he found her thumbing through a much-read
magazine in the waiting room. She put it away quickly as she rose to her feet, then reached
out to squeeze his hand with reassurance as she asked if things had been okay. He said that
the consultation had gone well, but that he needed to make another appointment. When
that was done, they walked out onto the street and into the spring afternoon. She asked
again with real concern whether he was really okay, and Ben said he was. As they walked
back to the car, hand in hand, he went on to repeat everything that he could remember of
what the doctor had said about his medical condition.
“Oh, you poor thing! But you have a prescription? We can drive home then and pick it up
from the chemist at the end of Acorn Road.” As they reached the car and got in, she asked,
“Did he say anything else?”
“There was something. He said the Trust might not have followed health and safety rules. A
lawyer might be able to get them to pay compensation. That might make changing trades
easier.”
“Oh, Ben, of course!” Marcie almost wailed as she joined the traffic, “I’m so sorry, I should
have thought of that. What was the point in three years studying law at Manchester if I
can’t spot it when my friends need legal help? You should get a specialist workplace
solicitor, and I guess you’d need to avoid the ambulance chasers who might take an
excessive cut of your win. But let me have a think, and I’m sure I can find a friend of a
friend.”
“Will you have to ask Richard?” Ben asked anxiously.
“No way! But I met some pretty big shot lawyers through him. Well, big shot for Newcastle.
Yes, Trish McDonald maybe. She’s a partner now, in her firm I mean. I’ll phone her to talk
about this as soon as I can.”
“Aye, and I better phone my work, to give them an update.”
“So, did you talk to the doctor about anything else?” Marcie asked with a kind of breezy
innocence that made Ben suspicious. He wondered if had anticipated what had been on his
mind.
“Well, he said I can go back to the gym, if I take it easy,” Ben mentioned.
“That’s good. If you like, I can go with you. I’d be anxious about you going in on your own,
until I was sure you’d found your new safe pace at least. I guess I’d be fine with you
popping in on your own whenever you wanted once my mind was at rest.”
Then Ben said as causally as he could, “He also said that it would be okay for us to have
sex.”
Marcie looked at him sharply in surprise, letting the car drift a little before she jerked the
steering wheel sharply, straightening them up again.
“Ben, you did that deliberately!” she accused, with exaggerated shock. He could see that she
was smirking, even though her cheeks had blushed. “You could have caused an accident!
But I can’t believe you spoke to him about that.”
“Well, we were both worried, and if you can’t talk to your doctor, who can you ask about
that?”
“Does what I said about the gym work with this too? I said I’d like to go with you. I might
be a bit anxious until I saw that you could find your new pace,” she was grinning from ear
to ear as she spun out her joke, concluding with a laugh, “But I’d be happy with you
popping in whenever you wanted once I saw you were safe!”
Ben grinned foolishly beside her, enjoying her enthusiasm, as she went on, “Well, talking of
being safe, we’d better pick up some condoms with your prescription. I threw out the old
ones I had, and I didn’t pick any up from your place. I’m sorry, we shouldn’t be talking
about this flippantly while I’m driving.”
“No, it’s fine. That sounds very good to me. We can choose together. It will be exciting!”
Marcie found a parking space near her flat, then they took the short walk to the shops
together, hand in hand once again. The chemist’s shop was quiet as Ben handed over his
prescription to the woman on the till and explained that it was his first inhaler. The
pharmacist came over when she overheard and, with a quick glance at the clock, confirmed
that she’d be able to take him through everything in the tiny consultation room. Marcie
volunteered to wait outside, explaining that she’d try to call or at least leave a message
with her lawyer friend.
As she left and Ben waited for the pharmacist, he browsed the shop, spotting the display of
condoms along with all the related products. He wondered if Marcie had already forgotten
that he’d said they could choose some together. He saw they had his usual choice, Durex
Featherlite, alongside some called Pleasuremax that he didn’t know. He saw there were
Durex branded lubricants too, which he thought looked more interesting than the familiar
K-Y gel.
He heard the pharmacist call his name and turned, then followed her into the little room
that perhaps gave them some privacy. Opening the boxes in front of him with quick
professional confidence, she got out two inhalers, the brown preventer and the blue
reliever that the doctor had mentioned, along with the big spacer. She showed him how to
make them puff and explained how to breathe the cloud in. Next she got him to
demonstrate that he could make the puffs too, then had him act out the process of doing the
inhalation. Ben felt somehow like a child as he put the clean plastic in his mouth and
pretend to take his medicine. The pharmacist seemed satisfied though as she picked
everything up and gestured to Ben to lead the way out.
Ben saw that Marcie had come back into the shop now and was standing just where he had
been earlier. He caught her eye, and she gave a little wave, while the pharmacist piled
things into a bag by the till, also bundling away the rubbish. “Do you pay for your
prescriptions, Mister Osborne, and did you want anything else?” she asked.
“Erm, aye, yes to both. Could I just pick something out, with my friend, and pay in just a
moment?”
“I’ll leave you with Sally then,” she said, indicating the woman at the till, “Pop back in if
there are any problems, especially if you lose your blue inhaler and need to replace it,” she
added as she retreated to her sanctum at the back of the shop.
Ben joined Marcie in front of the shelves of condoms. It seemed she was trying to be cool
and unconcerned, but he wondered if she was also covering up some embarrassment or
even excitement. “We don’t need latex-free, do we?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“I like these,” Ben said, trying to make the decision easy for them, taking down a small
packet of the Featherlite ones.
“Oh, but it works out cheaper if you buy more,” Marcie said, putting her hand against his to
stop it, then taking the large box herself. “What about these too?” she added, pointing to the
Pleasuremax, giving him a calm smile while she raised her eyebrow.
“I don’t know. We can try them,” he conceded.
“We’ll start small with them then,” Marcie decided, still smiling to herself. “We can get
more if we decide we like them more than your usual. And that should be enough for now,
but have you seen all these gels too? Shall we try something different?”
“Aye, but nothing too odd,” Ben suggested, looking with some trepidation at words like
‘warming’, ‘tingling’ and ‘sustain’.
“I agree. How about this?” Marcie said, picking up one with ‘natural’ clearly written on it.
She grinned up at him, hands full, but still speaking quietly as she asked, “Are we good?”
“We’re good,” he eagerly affirmed, aware that he was grinning too, then making a
deliberate effort to seem cool and composed as he took the goods from Marcie. “I’ll pay. It’s
my prescription we’re getting.”
The bored-looking Sally rang their purchases through and dropped them into the bag with
the inhalers. Ben deliberately made eye contact as he paid and thanked her, resisting his
latent embarrassment, then dropped his remaining paperwork into the bag too before
turning to catch up with Marcie, who was already making for the door.
She grasped his free hand and swung it happily as they turned out of the shop and began
walking back to her flat. “Ooh,” she exclaimed, “Before I forget, with my mind wandering
onto other things, I managed to get straight through to Trish McDonald, the lawyer. She
recommended someone in her firm who she assured me was a very experienced workplace
solicitor, and her secretary put an appointment in for us tomorrow lunchtime! I hope that’s
okay?”
“That’s amazing, Marcie! Once again, you’re helping me so much. I don’t know what I
would have done…”
“Oh, you know where you can stow that, sailor boy. Trish remembered me, and asked after
Richard, but when I explained what had happened, she was suddenly very keen to be as
helpful as she possibly could.”
“It wasn’t too painful, was it? Having to rake over that stuff?” Ben asked anxiously.
“No, don’t be daft! There was a moment’s awkwardness, then she immediately got used to
the idea that I had a new boyfriend who needed legal advice. But seriously, I hope you don’t
mind that I kind of implied we’d see the solicitor together. I just can’t help sticking my nose
in, I guess.”
“No, that’s really good. I want you to be there. You’ll know what they’re talking about, but
more importantly, we’re a couple now, right? I want us to share our journey. That’s okay,
right?”
“It’s more than okay, it’s perfect,” she reassured him, stopping on the corner of the
pavement to pull him towards her, standing on tiptoes with pursed lips to give him a little
kiss, then dragging him on towards her flat.
Chapter 16
In almost no time at all they were back, Marcie letting Ben in, then both of them slipped
their shoes off in the hallway. “Cup of tea?” Ben asked innocently, and Marcie agreed,
taking her smart jacket off to hang it on the back of a chair as they passed through the living
room, where Ben dropped off his own jacket.
But when they got to the kitchen and Ben dropped the bag from the chemist’s on the top,
she did not give him the chance to reach for the kettle. She raised one hand to stroke the
side of his face, placing the other on his flat stomach, sighing as she murmured, “Oh, Ben!”
With only a moment’s confusion, he mirrored her action, cradling her soft cheek and warm
ear in his rough hand, his other at her waist, then leant down to kiss her upturned lips. For
a moment he thought of the figures of the lovers in the golden picture that hung in the next
room, but then his senses were filled with Marcie’s living presence.
He tasted her as their mouths opened to each other with eager slippery sounds. They both
pressed themselves forcefully to the other’s lips, their jaws wide open, pushing their
tongues deep into each other’s mouths. It was a shared hunger that they were both
urgently feeding, relishing the sensations as they struggled to try and swallow each other.
Ben drew in the simple scent of Marcie’s skin and hair as he inhaled deeply through his
flared nostrils, and he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his hands through the thin silky
fabric of her blouse. He became aware of where the straps of her bra ran and where there
was warm dampness under her armpits. This real human intimacy made him eager to see
her undress, to bring to life some of those daydreams or whatever they were that they had
been talking about so much.
Perhaps Marcie had been thinking along similar lines, as she was suddenly trying to lift his
t-shirt up. He eagerly assisted, pulling it quickly over his shoulder and head. Marcie did not
wait for him to disentangle himself fully from its neck and arm holes as she pressed her
face to his chest, nuzzling aside her charm on the chain around his neck, kissing his bare
skin, then making quick playful bites at his pectorals and then his nipple.
Impulsively, Ben lifted her up by putting his hands firmly under her armpits and boosting
her briefly off her feet. She gave a tiny scream of delighted laughter as he landed her
bottom down on the kitchen top. Then her legs were wrapped around his hips, trapping
him in the grip of her powerful thighs, as she drew him towards her, raking her fingernails
down his back as she pulled her head back, grinning mischievously as she looked into his
eyes. Ben was acutely aware that his groin was pressing against hers, his arousal already
strong, and he wondered if Marcie felt an equivalent arousal in her Vixen, her vagina,
separated from his firm penis by just a few layers of cloth.
“How about it then, Ben?” she asked as she let her legs relax. He began to realise that she
must indeed have been feeling the same way as she continued, “The doctor said we can do
it, you have an inhaler just in case, we’ve got some rubber mackintoshes for Roddie. Are we
finally ready to have sex now? Can we make love properly at last? Will you really fuck me
now?”
“Yes,” Ben answered simply and eagerly as he breathed heavily and easily, raising his
hands to the top button of Marcie’s blouse as he spoke, “Was that you asking three times,
so I knew you meant it? Yes, yes, yes! Let’s do it now, in the kitchen, just like you wanted to
yesterday.”
“Oh!” Marcie exclaimed as Ben’s fingers urgently worked down her buttons, revealing the
lace trim of her peach-coloured bra. “I thought you’d take me through to the bedroom,” she
explained, and now her hands were on Ben’s belt, unfastening it without hesitating. “But
you’re right! It can be here, now. Our first time, right at the kitchen sink!”
She had got Ben’s belt undone and forcefully pulled the buttons of his jeans open. Now she
was trying to push them down, her fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts too. He
understood what she was trying to do and stepped back slightly, dropping his hands from
her gaping blouse to push his jeans and shorts right down, exposing himself to her. While
he stooped and danced about to free his feet, balancing with one hand on the kitchen top
beside Marcie’s buttock, his erect penis stuck out towards her unashamedly, its foreskin
already rolled back from its bright red head. But Marcie pushed him a little further back so
that she could slide off the worktop herself, then quickly unfastened her own trousers’
buttons and pulled them down too. Ben saw she was wearing high waisted silky knickers
with the peach tone and broad lace trim that matched her glimpsed bra, but she’d not yet
pushed these down.
Ben stood naked before her now, his back to the sink and the kitchen window, but
something about Marcie’s manner suddenly seemed to slow down. “Oh Ben,” she sighed
again as she pushed herself back up onto the worktop, holding her arms out to him. He
moved forward, finding himself between her thighs once more, but now with her smooth
bare skin warmly touching his own hips. She wrapped her arms tightly across his back and
held him to her. He let her just rest her head against his chest, her springy hair with its hard
hairpins and the angular edges of her glasses pressing against him just above his thumping
heart, his own arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders, his hands on the loose
cloth of her blouse. His manhood was still solidly upright, pressed to her belly, and he could
feel the silk of her knickers against it with continued excitement, but he slowed his breath
and calmly waited for her lead.
“This isn’t a game, is it?” she said at last, leaning back to look up at him seriously, her eyes
seemingly thoughtful and intellectual under her glasses. “It was an exciting daydream to
imagine having sex in the kitchen with a blonde hunk, with that extra naughty thrill to think
the neighbour might just pop round and see us at it. But we’re actually doing it, aren’t we?
Your penis isn’t a funny little man with his own personality. It’s your cock, aroused and
ready to penetrate me, to try inseminating me, to repeat that reproductive cycle that goes
back to the dawn of human history, to the dawn of animal life on planet Earth.”
“So have you changed your mind?” Ben asked calmly, still holding her in his arms, “Don’t
you want me to, even if we can now? We have the condoms,” he added pragmatically, “I
won’t really inseminate you. But we don’t need to rush into it, maybe.”
“No,” she replied firmly, “I do want you, and that’s just it. I really do want you inside me. I
want it so much that it’s like I’m not in control, like Mother Nature or something is saying,
‘Finally, girl! You’ve got one where we wanted. Now don’t think about it, just let him do it
to you. I can take over the action from here if you’re still fussing about hospitals and
lawyers and neighbours and house dust.’ Does that make sense? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m killing
the moment.”
“No,” Ben reassured her. Even though he was softening a little, he was still truly gratified to
hear that Marcie still wanted to go ahead and have genuine penetrative sex with him. He
tried to see if he understood her, saying, “It is the real deal, isn’t it? We’ve been intimate
now, we’ve even seen each other come, but this is different. But I think it’s right too. It’s
true, our bodies want us to do it, Mother Nature wants us to do it. But we can let them, we
can comply with Her. You’d say it’s my penis, little Roddie O, doing the talking. But I’m
speaking too, and I’m in control. We’re in control.”
“Yes we are,” she admitted quietly, emphasising, “You are. And you’ve shown great
restraint and patience with me. I’ve been winding you up, time and again. Yet even right
now, I truly believe that if I asked you to stop, you would. You’d get dressed without
complaint and still keep your wonderful positive mood. But we are ready for this, as a
couple, as lovers, aren’t we? We can carry on, if you still want to, if you’re still okay with it,
here and now?”
“Aye, it’s all good,” Ben assured her, pulling her head to his chest again in that close
embrace as he sighed contentedly.
“Well give me some space, then,” Marcie muffled voice playfully ordered. She smiled as he
pulled back to look into her twinkling brown eyes again, saying “Let’s have a good smooch,
and see if we can’t get things moving again!”
They kissed, slowly at first, wet lips open to each other, Marcie’s fingertips running down
Ben’s back from his shoulders to his buttocks. Ben just cradled the back of her head in his
hands as their kisses became increasingly hungry. He knew that he’d quickly risen to an
upright solid erection again, and Marcie must have felt that as he pressed himself against
her. But now he was aware of Marcie wriggling against him too, deliberately pressing the
silky fabric of her warm knickers against his penis. He imagined how her vagina may be
aroused and lubricated already, and how she may be enjoying the sensation of rubbing her
labia against him through the material. He felt a rising urgency to take those knickers off
and move on to the next stage before it was too late.
He dropped his hands to her waist, finding her bare skin and the edge of her knickers under
the loose edges of her unbuttoned blouse. He leant back a little to see her keen eyes and
slightly flushed cheeks. “May I take these off you?” he asked, a little breathlessly, gripping
the wide lacy band that ran high over her hips.
“Yes!” she breathed, “Let me help.” Ben was already sinking to his knees between Marcie’s
thighs, eager to bring himself closer to her despite the hard floor. She was wriggling her
bottom on the kitchen worktop now, helping him to get the thin silky satin free from under
her bum as he tugged each side and rolled down the fabric. He saw her bushy pubic hair
revealed, then saw the long dark line between her outer lips. He pulled her knickers
backwards, over her thighs, leaning way back as Marcie closed them to help. That
momentarily hid his view, but he’d already seen her crinkled inner lips nestling within that
dark line, looking pink and glossy.
He freed the limp peach knickers from Marcie’s feet and dropped them to the floor, then
with a gentle gesture, encouraged her to spread her knees wide again. He relished the
intimacy of seeing Marcie’s vulva, her Vixen, like this. It was all so vivid - the dark bushy
hair, the creases of her lips, all nestled in the wide bare skin of her thighs and belly,
exposed in the afternoon daylight that filled the plain kitchen. Her pale olive skin with her
scattered freckles and moles, even here around the most private and intimate part of her
body, seemed so simple and natural that it made Ben feel as if she transcended the prurient
concepts of sexiness or eroticism. Instead she was simply the living embodiment of
womanhood, the reality of an eternal ideal that was the complement to his manhood, his
upright fertile energy. And now his simple animal purpose was guiding him, to deliver his
sperm somewhere that it could be useful, all in an absolutely natural way.
Yet the thought of those fur coats in Lucy’s wardrobe popped into his mind too. It was
absurd, but he imagined being able to push his whole body through that long bushy crease.
Marcie had said an artist once called it the origin of the world, but maybe it was also a
portal to a new world, the way into a magical realm of fairy creatures and soft-boiled eggs
on buttery toast. It was the passage through which life was born, of course, but perhaps this
was a gateway for him too, a hidden path to a new life as a mature adult, scarred by his
ordeals but wiser now, with Marcie at his side. He thought of her Catholic roots, and almost
wished that he knew a prayer that he could whisper, on his knees before this holy chalice, a
prayer to some primal goddess of the Earth maybe.
All these ideas flashed through his powerfully stimulated mind in an instant as he
instinctively moved forwards on his knees, bringing his mouth to Marcie’s vulva. He
brushed her lips with his and inhaled deeply, breathing easily as he luxuriated in the scent
of her, of her cwm, of her musky Vixen, strong and potent and primal below the mundane
soapy smell of her clean skin.
But Marcie was urgently grabbing the back of his head, trying to pull him up, “No! Not that,
not now. Another time. I want you inside me!”
He rose to his feet so that his erection stood up between them, now at absolute wooden
rigidity, curving like a thick fleshy bow with its bulbous red head smeared by a bead of his
own leaking lubricant. He steadied himself by resting his hands on Marcie’s bare thighs,
feeling momentarily dizzy. Then he looked up from her shadowy cleavage, still wrapped in
her bra under the loose blouse, into her pleading eyes. “Can we put his rubber hat on
quickly?” she asked, her hands still reaching up to the back of his neck.
“Aye,” Ben simply said, then they were both scrabbling for the bag from the chemist’s shop.
Marcie got the big box of condoms out first, and Ben quickly unpeeled its cellophane wrap
as she held it up to him. He pulled one of the silvery packets out, tore down the
perforations that held two condoms together, then handed one half to Marcie as he put the
box down with the other stuffed back inside it.
“Oh,” she hesitated, “Could you help?” and Ben wondered at that moment if she really had
not been getting as much practice at this as she might have.
He tore the jagged edge, holding the packet the right way up over himself as he squeezed
the little slippery circle of latex out. “Could you hold me, hold me up, near the base?” Ben
asked vaguely in his urgent anticipation, but Marcie understood. Her delicate hands flew to
his shaft, one gripping and holding him upright just as he’d hoped, the other cupped
around his scrotum, bringing him a wonderful wave of pleasure. But he deliberately
concentrated on pinching the tip of the condom and rolling the thin rubber carefully over
his sensitive glans. “Now could you hold my head, please? Gently,” he clarified, and Marcie
did indeed put just the lightest of pressure on it with the fingertips of both hands, holding
him steady as he quickly rolled the rest of the condom firmly over the full length of his shaft.
“Can I put some gel on you too?” Marcie eagerly asked, and Ben gladly agreed. He watched
her, resting his hands on her bare thighs, as she reached out to put her hand on the new
tube, got the sticky fluid flowing, squeezed a generous amount onto her fingers, then
grasped him in a loose slippery fist. The sensation of her hand’s confident touch was
exquisite as she gripped his shaft and rubbed cool gel around, leaving Ben gasping and
trembling with excitement. He felt for a moment as if Marcie was treating his penis, his
whole body maybe, as one of her toys. Though he doubted it was true, he knew he’d be
strangely pleased if she were seeing him like that as she got everything ready for her own
selfish pleasure.
“That wasn’t too rough, was it? So can you put it in me now?” Marcie meekly asked as she
unselfconsciously wiped her hands on her thighs.
“No. I mean yes!” Ben breathed in eager confusion. Then he brought his own hands to his
penis, experimentally pushing his rigidly upright erection down so that the tip of his head
brushed Marcie’s tawny pink lips.
“Oh, is this going to work?” she asked anxiously as she dropped her hands to her own
glossy labia and parted the dark mouth of her vagina wide, wriggling to the edge of the
kitchen top and raising one leg to bring herself onto him.
Ben had momentary doubts himself about the feasibility of their position, but then he felt
the delicious warm pressure of Marcie’s soft lips closing around his head and knew they
would be okay.
Marcie gasped, still holding herself open for him, as he gently wriggled, feeling himself slip
slowly deeper up into her by delicious increments. His own hands were both at the base of
his shaft, where they’d been holding himself down and guiding his Roddie into her Vixen.
Now he raised them to her face, breathing steadily as he brushed her cheeks, feeling
tingling waves of pleasure rising from his penis. He looked into her anxious eyes as she
raised them to his, then suddenly her face shone with beaming delight. “You’re really
inside, aren’t you?” she gasped, “I can feel you!”
And indeed Ben could feel his full shaft buried within Marcie’s body now, her hot vagina
enclosing him in the most perfect gentle grip. “Yes, yes!” he whispered, as he began to slip
very slowly and subtly backwards and forwards within her.
Marcie seemed to be gaining confidence that he wasn’t going anywhere. Her hands moved
to his hips, and somehow she raised her legs to push herself more firmly against him. Ben
glanced down and saw that she’d actually lifted her feet up to the edge of the kitchen sink
behind him. Then she began grinding herself against him, setting her own rhythm, which
Ben became enslaved to. He stood there firmly, bracing himself with one hand against a
cupboard beside her head while his other still cradled Marcie’s crown, fingers tangling in
her tight hair. They stared into each other’s eyes, both breathing heavily through their
open mouths, perhaps both in wonder at the sensations they shared. Marcie had begun
panting in synchronisation to her rhythm, hungrily gasping for air, making small keening
noises as she exhaled each lungful. But almost as soon as these small vocalisations had
started, she seemed to give into them fully, mouth widening even whilst her eyelids
lowered, breathing out with some kind of “aah” sounds, loud and high-pitched, powerfully
expressed at each thrust. Meanwhile Ben also heard subtler noises, like a hungry beast’s
wet lips slapping together as it eagerly fed, and perhaps in some sense that’s exactly what
her Vixen had become.
Ben found that both Marcie’s cries and the organic squelches brought him to a new level of
excitement, adding to the tingling pressure that was building in his loins. Impulsively, he
reached beneath Marcie’s blouse to hold her breast, his other hand falling to grip her fleshy
hip, bracing himself against her own flexing mass now rather than the fixed cupboard. His
fingers struggled to get under the lacy trim to her soft warm mound, which he’d been
excited to notice subtly bouncing in sympathy with her hips’ pumping motion.
Marcie must have realised what he was trying to do, as she opened her eyes to look
pleadingly into his, saying, “Oh yes, you must! Touch me! Ħaqq Alla! Let me,” she paused
briefly, whipping her hands up behind her back to unhook her bra, Ben realised.
As her animation momentarily stilled, Ben was suddenly acutely aware of where he was,
rigidly aroused and buried deep inside this precious woman, making love at the heart of
her home, the sanctuary she’d shared with him. Then he saw her make a half-hearted
attempt to slide one bra strap off her shoulder under her blouse, and she was grasping his
buttocks firmly in both hands again, pulling him into her as firmly as her strength allowed.
He felt her wrap her legs around him, pressing her firm smooth calves against the back of
thighs, holding him tight in the luscious snare of her own body. Her eyes were half-closed
as she looked down her proud nose at him, her mouth wide to release her high cries of
rapture as she found her panting rhythm again. Ben was dizzy with arousal now, yet his
gaze was still drawn to her half-revealed breast, now unbound from her bra and moving
like liquid in response to her driving rhythm. Ben reverentially reached beneath the bra’s
loose cup to brush her nipple, thrilling to feel the nub of soft warm flesh beneath his
fingertips.
“Stop, wait!” Marcie suddenly said urgently, freezing. Ben felt his heart lurch, unsure that
he could break off now, but Marcie immediately went on, “No, sorry! Don’t worry, carry
on!” She resumed her grinding motion against him, but slower now, blowing out big deep
breaths rather than her previous urgent cries. She was squeezing his buttocks again,
teasing him perhaps unconsciously as she reached beneath him, her fingernails brushing
his scrotum, nearly at his anus. All the while, she kept reassuring him, “Just let it flow now.
Come home. You’re safe. Relax. Let it go. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Ben looked down at his hand on her breast. The lacy peach cup had fallen aside now, and he
could see his fingers stretched across the heavy mass of her shuddering breast, her nipple
under his middle fingertip, his other fingers on her wrinkled dusky pink areola. The sight
briefly brought to Shona’s breast to his mind, wholly inappropriately he felt. Yet at the
same moment he felt profound gratitude toward Marcie, her soft breast becoming a symbol
for all her kindness, as she shared her own feminine wellspring of new life with him.
Suddenly, from his mist of sensual pleasure, he realised he’d tipped over the edge. He
sighed, then he felt his semen surge out with such a force that it felt as if he’d burst, as if
there were a painfully hot fluid ejaculating from his wooden shaft, shooting out somewhere
deep inside Marcie’s mysterious body. He groaned and uttered her name, involuntarily
gripping her breast and her hip. He was panting heavily himself now as the pulses of his
orgasm overtook him, making him insensate to everything but the ecstasy that flowed
through him.
Marcie kept gripping his buttocks firmly as he shook, then perhaps as she sensed the waves
subsiding, she raised her hands, bringing him shivering delight as she quickly traced her
fingernails up his sides and over his own nipples, tangling the gifted necklace briefly in her
fingers before cradling his jaw cradled in her hands. Ben let his hands start to imitate hers,
but only lifted his big rough palms to her ribs and armpits, which he found deliciously
slippery with her copious natural sweat.
Still panting, he stooped towards her face, and she straightened up to reach his lips,
relaxing her legs. They kissed tenderly, their tongues brushing each other’s lips, but their
movements had consequences. Ben felt his softening shaft slipping out from her warm cosy
cwm, and immediately realised that there was nothing to be done about it. They both
giggled as they felt it flop out heavily.
“That means my time is up?” Ben murmured, pressing his brow to Marcie’s.
“The ride’s over. Move along quickly now,” Marcie said, giggling, and Ben remembered her
fairground analogy.
“Was that a bit too much? Did you want off the rollercoaster for a moment there?”
“Don’t be daft!” Marcie scoffed, “It was amazing! Maybe we could find a more comfortable
and leisurely ride next time, but it was one to remember. We don’t have to analyse it
though, like a post-mortem. I just had a moment’s panic about being in the kitchen. It all
worked out though, didn’t it? But how are you? How’s your breathing?”
Ben took a deliberate deep breath. He realised there was a drag and a wheeze to it, which
Marcie could obviously hear too from her worried expression, but he felt fine in himself. “I
think it’s okay. You were doing most of the work, I think. Thank you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed again, “You don’t need to thank me. I should thank you,
or we should both thank the higher powers that brought us together. I love you, Ben, and
this is one key way we can make that love viscerally real.”
“You’re right. You’re so right. And I love you too, count on it,” he said sincerely, wrapping
his arms around her and pulling her to him firmly, pressing her bare skin and remaining
disarrayed clothes against his chest.
“Ooh, don’t squeeze too hard,” Marcie’s muffled voice protested, “I really need a wee! Does
it get you that way?”
“No,” Ben admitted with a laugh, “Not yet.” He stepped back and let her hop down, planting
her bare feet onto the hard kitchen floor as his hand lingered on her waist.
“Well you can wash your hands and put the kettle on while I’m gone. You’d promised me a
cup of tea too!” she teased as she looked over her shoulder, catching Ben looking at her
broad naked bottom and strong legs.
“Aye aye, cap’n,” he agreed, grinning sheepishly. He turned away as she disappeared
around the door, then dropped his eyes to his penis. It was drooping but still swollen,
looking sorry for itself in the stretched limp condom, the tip heavy with his creamy sperm.
As he heard the gushing flow from Marcie on the toilet, he tore off a sheet of kitchen roll to
catch any drips, then he pulled it gently off. Though it was a bit rough, he used the paper
towel to wipe himself down too, before knotting the condom and bundling it up in the used
kitchen towel for the bin.
He heard Marcie running the taps of the bathroom, and went to wash his own hands in the
kitchen sink. He breathed deeply and deliberately, aware of the rasp, but feeling calm. As he
stood there, naked to the world, full of the warm glow that follows truly satisfying sex
between passionate lovers, he thought back to the moment of melancholy that he’d felt
right here just a few hours earlier. Though she’d stopped him from saying it, he did feel a
very deep and profound gratitude to Marcie. She had been his salvation, and he knew that if
he stuck with her, she would always help to raise him up again.
He heard Marcie pad up behind him before she gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around
his chest, pressing herself against his back. “Showing it off to the neighbours, now?” she
asked dreamily, then said, “But seriously, we’d better slip back into our clothes. We can
shower before we put something fresh on to go out later. And I still don’t hear that kettle
boiling!”
Chapter 17
Ben quickly grabbed the kettle to fill it as Marcie picked up and sorted their discarded
clothes. He turned it on, then went to get the mugs and teabags from the cupboard that
he’d been leaning on, while Marcie pulled up her knickers, refastened her bra, and then got
into her trousers.
“Ahem,” she primly intoned, holding out Ben’s crumpled boxer shorts, pinched them
between her finger and thumb as if she found them mildly disgusting. Ben took them and
began to dutifully put them on, returning her twinkling smile with a foolish grin as she
began buttoning her blouse.
They both startled as they heard Marcie’s phone start ringing. “Who’s that now?” Marcie
asked in mock exasperation as she strode into the living room.
Ben listened over the noise of the boiling kettle as he pulled up his own trousers. It
sounded as if it was a stranger to Marcie, but it seemed that she was being very polite.
Then to his surprise, she leaned back into the kitchen to say, “It’s Roland Michaels, the
solicitor I mentioned. He’d like to speak to you. Is that okay?”
“Aye,” Ben found himself agreeing automatically, stepping into the living room to take the
phone from Marcie’s hand. He had a brief thought of how normal life went on, the real
world kept turning, even if he and Marcie had found their way to a private heavenly realm,
a new magical land, just for a snatched moment.
“Ben Osborne? Let me introduce myself. I’m Roland Michaels, workplace solicitor and Ms
Trish McDonald’s colleague, whom I believe is a close friend of your partner, Miss Tabone.
Ms McDonald said you’d had a spot of bother and might need our services. I know we have
an appointment in the diary, but I thought it would be useful if I did a little prep ahead of
that. Is this a good time to talk?”
Ben was immediately struck by the man’s business-like approach. His voice was posh, but
it rumbled along with a kind and reassuring warmth. Though he’d barely been able to get a
few words of assent in, Ben could already imagine himself trusting the man’s easy
professional competence.
He went on to answer Roland’s queries about his personal details, then confirmed that he’d
been to hospital and been diagnosed with pneumoconiosis, but Roland stopped him from
going into the whole story, saying they’d discuss it all tomorrow. He seemed keener to get
details about Ben’s employer, asking how long he’d worked there and what his
employment contract said about long-term sickness.
Ben admitted that he’d not thought to check that. Roland suggested he dig the paperwork
out before they met, if he could find it, also suggesting he bring in something for the
identity check that Roland would need to make. He was then very interested to hear that
there was some risk in Ben returning to his own flat.
“Don’t worry,” Roland reassured him as he wound up, “I’ll winkle your contract out of the
Armstrong Trust myself if necessary, and the identity verification can be done later. If you
can lay your hands on it though, do bring it along tomorrow so that I can check what your
employer has explicitly stated about their duties. If possible, please do bring that hospital
discharge note you mentioned too. Now, did you have any more questions that can’t wait
until tomorrow? Very good. Well, Mister Osborne, I’ll look forward to meeting you in
person then, and Miss Tabone too.”
As Ben hung up, Marcie came through from the kitchen with their mugs of tea and his t-
shirt over her shoulder. He’d sat down at the table to take the call, and now that it was over,
he felt a little foolish to be sitting there undressed from the waist up. He was therefore
grateful that Marcie had thought to help him cover himself up again.
“How did it go?” she asked, sitting down at the table too as he quickly put his t-shirt on.
“Very well, I thought,” Ben answered before going into the details of what he’d discussed
with Roland as they sipped the tea.
“It’s quite unusual for someone like him to be so eager and helpful before he’s even met his
clients,” Marcie noted, “Either he’s really dedicated or Trish McDonald gave him serious
rocket up the arse.”
Ben chuckled, “Perhaps both. We’ll meet him soon anyway, but it would be good to have
that paperwork. Could you help me around to the flat again, tomorrow morning? The
doctor said it would be okay for me to pop in, with my inhaler, just in case.”
“Of course, silly!” she assured him, “We can pick up a load of your stuff, if you like. With you
to help me, I won’t feel like a thief creeping about up there.”
“Aye, about that,” Ben began, feeling a bit awkward.
“What?” Marcie asked anxiously, perhaps unsure of what was coming.
“You remember at the doctors, you said I should give them your address? And then Roland,
he called you my partner, like it was an official thing,” he started, but then hesitated. He
looked into Marcie’s worried eyes, reaching out to grip her hand, before carrying on, “Well,
I’ll say it. Please may I move in with you, Marcie? Please may we become partners,
cohabiting?”
“Oh Ben, yes! Of course!” she responded immediately with heartfelt emphasis. “It’s all
happening so quickly, isn’t it? But we’re already there really, aren’t we? Yes, yes, of course!
You’re my boyfriend, you live in my flat, that’s the truth, and I’m happy to stand on the
street and shout it out. It’s like what we did in the kitchen just now, isn’t it? I know we’d
already been intimate, and we could have called that sex before, but actually fucking, doing
old fashioned sexual intercourse, that’s made it real, hasn’t it? It’s our consummation,” she
added, then covered her mouth in embarrassment, perhaps recognising what her choice of
words implied. She rushed out an apology, “Oh, am I letting my mouth run away too fast
again? I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right. We’re not married yet, but we are together, a team,” Ben said, then
realised his own words had run away carelessly. He wondered why he’d let the word ‘yet’
slip out, and if Marcie had noticed. He went on though, speaking sincerely, “And what
we’ve just done, it’s like we’ve proved that, like we’re two become one.”
“Hey, don’t bring those naughty Spice Girls into it!” Marcie warned teasingly, but her
mouth was making a beaming grin.
“No, they’re water under the bridge,” Ben laughed. He realised that he felt the same about
what she’d said though, adding, “But I’d be very happy to join you, going out onto the
street, I mean. We could stand together with our arms up like this,” he explained, raising
their clenched hands high, “And shout to the neighbours, ‘We did it. We fucked. We’re in
love, and we’re staying that way!’”
“Well, maybe we won’t need to,” Marcie said, a slightly worried expression suddenly
crossing her face as Ben let their hands drop again.
“No, I don’t mean it really,” he reassured her, “But I’m so happy that you agreed, that you
said yes to me moving in. I guess there will be lots to sort, but we can take our time, right?”
“Right,” she agreed, “We’ll just pick up a bit more of your stuff tomorrow, then I can have a
bit more of a sort through my things over the weekend. I’m just doing a Saturday afternoon
shift, did I say? Then we can take it from there, make a list of people to tell. You don’t need
to give notice on your flat’s contract straight away, while you’re still just signed off sick -
though I guess your Trust may be quite relieved when you do. Oh, that phone call, and
everything else, it didn’t really spoil the mood after our special moment, did it?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, “Our kitchen fuck, to speak plainly, it will always be a special
moment now. For me, well, it was a glimpse of heaven, or some other magical fairy world.”
“Yes,” Marcie cautiously agreed, smiling at him. He leant forwards, and they pecked their
lips together.
“But when the phone went, I thought, well, the real world keeps turning, doesn’t it?” Ben
went on, “And it still is. I’m sorry, but the call reminded me that I need to speak to my work,
and my dad too. I was going to update them, you know, about what the doctor said. And I
haven’t spoken to work, well, since I left hospital, the day before yesterday. I should let
them know a solicitor may get in touch too.”
“If you’re sure, Ben,” she said cautiously, “They may get a bit funny when you say you’re
planning to make a personal injury claim, you know.”
“Well, they’ll find out soon anyway, if Roland starts requesting things. And I’m doing the
right thing, aren’t I? If I need to stop work and retrain, some financial help would be really
useful.”
“You are so doing the right thing, Ben,” Marcie said earnestly, squeezing his hand, “If
you’ve hurt your lungs because of the work you were doing for them, and they could have
helped you avoid it, then they really do owe you.”
“Thank you, Marcie. You’re still helping me so much,” he replied seriously, looking up into
her eyes as she rose from the table, gathering the empty mugs.
“Oh, do be quiet!” she scoffed, leaning forward to peck his lips again, “Just make your calls,
then we can get back to our adventures.”
Ben called his dad’s mobile first. It sounded from the background noises of the pumps and
cows bellowing as if he’d caught him in the dairy. His dad didn’t seem to mind stopping to
talk though, and was glad that Ben had thought to give him an update from the doctors,
even though he didn’t seem too interested in hearing all the details. He was concerned that
Ben had been signed off sick for the long term and that he was pursuing a work injury
compensation though, offering again to come up to Newcastle or do anything else that he
could to help. Ben reassured him that he was getting on fine, that Marcie was helping a
great deal, but that he’d call if he needed anything. Then the old man bluntly asked if
Marcie was his girlfriend now, and Ben simply confirmed she was. That prompted him to
tell Ben that he must bring her over to the farm soon, so that he could meet her and thank
her in person for looking after his son. Ben was aware his father hadn’t invited any of his
other recent girlfriends that he’d mentioned to Lincolnshire, making him wonder if his dad
had already sensed this was a more serious relationship. Ben reassured him that he would
visit, just as soon as he and Marcie could get away, then they finished the call by each telling
the other to take care.
Rhona, the Trust’s office manager, picked up his next call promptly. She seemed pleased to
hear from him, telling him not to worry when he apologised for not calling earlier. But then
she seemed to become quite concerned and perhaps a little agitated as she heard him
explain what his GP and the hospital doctors had said. Ben confirmed that it was serious,
helping her to make sure that she’d noted the word ‘pneumoconiosis’ down correctly. She
said that she guessed someone from their HR services would want to talk it all over with
him and Harry, his supervisor. Then Ben said he thought that was a good idea, because he’d
also spoken to a solicitor about a possible compensation claim for sickness caused by work.
Rhona became very serious at that, asking Ben if she could pass his news on to the Trust’s
management council too. He agreed, guessing that they may as well know sooner rather
than later. Then he thought to give Rhona an update on his address too, pulling the piece of
paper out that Marcie had first given him in the hospital to check it himself.
“Okay, Ben, let me read my notes back to you, to make sure I’ve got everything,” Rhona
suggested, keeping her voice calm, “Admitted to hospital Monday, discharged Tuesday, GP
confirmed pneumoconiosis, long-term sick, needs HR services appointment, possible work-
related illness compensation, FAO Harry Mortimer plus AT council, dust risk in flat over
workshop, staying with girlfriend, address 33 and so on. Does that cover it?”
Ben confirmed that it did, then Rhona reassured him that she would keep on top of
everything at her end, to help make it as easy as possible for him. Then she told him to just
rest and look after himself, but guessed that it would probably be next week before he
heard back from HR or herself directly. “I’ll try to keep Harry off your back. I imagine the
last thing you need is him fussing at you about rearranging the works calendar and shifting
contractor bookings. This must all be a bit of a shock, I imagine. You just take it easy and
follow doctors’ orders now, okay?”
As he thanked her and said goodbye, he smiled to himself to think that he’d just been
fulfilling some of the doctor’s guidance with Marcie already.
Marcie had been pottering in and out as Ben had been talking, finishing off the job he’d
started to put the camp bed away, and perhaps still tidying up after their exploits in the
kitchen, finding a more suitable home for everything they’d picked up at the chemist’s. She
came to sit beside him again once he’d hung up, taking his hand in hers.
“Was that all right?” she asked with concern, “It sounded quite serious.”
“Well, it is serious I suppose, isn’t it?” Ben admitted with a sigh. “The office manager said
HR would set something up, probably next week now. I guess we’ll take it from there.”
“Yes, that’s right. It doesn’t all need to be sorted now. It can’t be. Give yourself time to
work out what you want too. The doctor has suggested you have a month off at least. If you
want to officially quit your job, you can do it then, and maybe wait until then to give notice
on your flat too. Alternatively, I think your employer is legally obliged to adjust your role if
you can’t do your old job after a serious illness. Things may be clearer by then anyway.
Meanwhile, you and I can just look forward to a nice evening out and some cosy cuddles
together on the sofa.”
“Hmm, that sounds good,” Ben agreed, “But we can plan for tomorrow at least. Shall I start
making a list of things to pick up?”
“Would you like another page from my Filofax, a leaf from my folio?” Marcie asked,
somehow making it seem suggestive, even as she rose to find it.
“Thank you,” he called out, then as he gazed out of the window, over the vase of flowers
and the houseplants, he noticed movement at the top of the stairs in the backyard. He
raised his voice to alert Marcie, “I think Shona’s on her way down. Do you think she wants
help with the kids?”
She rushed back into the room, slapping her Filofax down in front of him, urgently saying,
“I’ll see her. You stay here!”
Ben wondered if she wanted to say something in private to Shona about what they’d
discussed in the car earlier. He hoped that she didn’t feel the need to defend him for how
he’d behaved when he’d seen Shona breastfeeding. “I don’t mind coming out too,” he
remarked, but Marcie was shooing him away even as she quickly unbolted the back door.
Ben saw Shona turn at the bottom of the stairs, holding Fiona on her hip but with no sign of
the boys. She smiled and waved at Marcie, who’d now slipped outside in her beach-shoes.
Ben couldn’t really hear their voices as Marcie swung the door to, but she must have
mentioned that he was inside, as Shona glanced in his direction then waved to him too
through the glass. However Ben thought that even though she smiled his way, there was
perhaps a frown of anxious suspicion on her brow.
Ben look away discreetly to find a blank piece of paper in Marcie’s organiser that he could
take out for his list, but he was aware that Marcie and Shona had stayed at the foot of the
iron staircase, seemingly huddled together in some conspiratorial exchange. So he found it
difficult to concentrate as he vaguely noted down ‘paperwork’, ‘clothes’, ‘boots’,
‘toiletries’, ‘CDs’ and then ‘bike’, wondering if he could pedal his mountain bike around
while Marcie drove back with the other stuff. As the pickup wasn’t really his, he was
suddenly realising that the bike might become his only means of independent transport.
He heard an unexpected noise coming from outside, muffled by the glass, and briefly
wondered if it was Fiona wailing. But when he glanced up, he realised that it was actually
Shona, laughing in a high peal that could almost be called a cackle. Marcie was clearly
telling her something in their secretive conflab that she’d found wickedly amusing. Ben
found it surprising to hear, given the rather dour mood that she’d shown with him so far.
He felt reassured though as he bent back to his list, thinking of the value of friendly
neighbours, even though he suspected the joke may have been at his expense.
He looked up again when he heard Marcie come back through the door. “Is everything
okay?” he asked, a little anxiously.
“Yes, very well,” she breezily reassured him, “She just wanted to clear something up. I said
we’d both pop up for a cuppa around later tomorrow morning too. Is that all right?”
“Aye, fine,” Ben agreed, but he had to ask, “Did she mention anything about me being there
when she was breastfeeding this morning?”
“Oh, she did mention that,” Marcie admitted vaguely, “She said she was sorry if she
offended you.”
“Did you reassure her I wasn’t offended? I was just embarrassed, I guess. Did you say that I
hoped I hadn’t seemed like a creep?”
“Not really, but you can tell her all that tomorrow, can’t you? Face to face, as it were, if you
can keep your eyes up that high,” she replied cheekily. Ben still felt a bit suspicious that she
hadn’t told him everything that the two of them had discussed, but he resigned himself to
remain in ignorance. “How’s the list coming along?” she went on to ask, perhaps
deliberately changing the subject as she rested her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
“Not very well,” Ben admitted, showing it to her, knowing that she would already be trying
to read it, “I can’t seem to think things through.”
“Don’t worry, that’s a good start,” she reassured him, then asked, “Bike? As in push-bike?
You’ve not got a throbbing motorcycle hidden away somewhere that you’ve not told me
about?”
Ben explained that he had quite a nice mountain bike, and that he’d been trying to think of
how he’d get himself about without relying on Marcie. She asked about the pickup,
wondering if he could park it on their street, but he confirmed it belonged to the Trust, so
he wasn’t sure about using it now. He was surprised and grateful when she immediately
suggested she simply add him to her own car insurance, so then they could share the little
Ka. She brushed off his thanks, but he took it as a significant sign that she was taking the
thought of them living together seriously, which made him consciously acknowledge his
own sincere commitment to their new status as well. She reassured him that she was very
happy for him to still bring his bike over too, though.
Marcie looked at the little piece of paper again, then said, “I see you’ve not put books or a
laptop down, which I guess would be first on my list. Did you want those? Do you even have
a laptop yourself? Bringing a desktop PC over may be a bigger job, but I’m sure we could
squeeze it in somewhere, if you take my meaning.”
Ben smiled at her double entendre, but explained, “I don’t have a laptop, or a PC. I go to the
office if I need to go online, borrowing my supervisor’s desk usually. They gave me a fax
machine for the workshop, and I get job details sent to me on it, not via email or anything.
And I don’t really do the paperwork or spreadsheets myself. I do have a newish PlayStation,
but I don’t want the whole TV here too. I’m not missing it. I’ve got other gadgets, I guess,
like the GPS, though that’s work’s too really.”
“Well like I said, don’t worry. We can have a poke about when we get into your flat, so to
speak, and just fill a few bags up with what we find. Do you want to give it a rest now? You
can sit down on the sofa and maybe tell me about those things on your other list left over
from this morning.”
Chapter 18
As Ben shifted to the sofa, Marcie fell down next to him, throwing her arm across his
shoulder, then quickly leaning over to kiss him unexpectedly on the side of his face,
somewhere near his eyebrow, before falling back with a satisfied sigh. But before he could
reach over to stroke her affectionately, she was up again to reach for his reading book,
which she must have noticed on the table, before settling down again.
“May I see how far you’ve got? I could do with reminding myself of exactly what happens
too. I’ve reread them all since I was a child, maybe most recently when I was nineteen or
twenty, and that’s why I thought they still had something worthwhile in, but I’ve not
looked at them again since.” Then as she opened the book at the postcard that Ben had
used as a bookmark she exclaimed, “Oh! I’d completely forgotten this was in here. Did you
read it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry,” Ben admitted anxiously, though Marcie seemed unconcerned.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t say much, does she?” Marcie commented, taking it out and
turning it over in her hand with a smile, “Do you remember me mentioning Amber, my
special girlfriend? She sent this in the summer holidays after our first year and Manchester
Grammar, so we would have been twelve, maybe. That’s when I knew she was a true friend,
I suppose, because she’d thought of me even though we’d not seen each other for weeks. I
knew why she’d chosen this picture too, because of the beavers from The Lion, the Witch
and the Wardrobe. I guess you haven’t got to them yet, have you? You probably think it’s a
bit of a suggestive joke, but I don’t think either of us had thought of that back then. We both
just loved Narnia, and had read all the books, though neither of us liked The Last Battle.”
“What about Lewis? Was he being suggestive, putting beavers into the story?” Ben asked,
adding, “I wondered about the fur coats too.”
“No, I don’t think so. He was a bit of an odd man, an academic specialising in Medieval
English at Oxford, the archetypal bachelor don. Very Christian, obviously, though he’d kind
of come back to it in adulthood, after losing his faith when his mother died while he was
still a boy. I believe he was better known for his talks about God than these books in his
own lifetime. Did I say all this before? Stop me if it’s boring.”
“No, it’s really interesting,” Ben reassured her, “You know so much.”
“But it’s all book stuff, isn’t it?” Marcie countered, as if with regret, “I don’t know useful,
practical things like you do, about sailing boats or crafting models of them, or how to enjoy
myself on a night out in my own city.” Ben scoffed, and she went on, “But I’ve read that
some people, probably keen Christians themselves, think CS Lewis was almost sexless. He
married, but only very late in life, to a woman who was dying of cancer at the time, an
American divorcee. I think there was a film about it. Does it ring any bells? He’d had
another odd relationship too, living alone with the widowed mother of a friend of his. He’d
died in the First World War, at Lewis’s side as a young man, I guess, and perhaps he was
just looking after the bereaved woman, perhaps as a substitute for his own mother, or
perhaps there was a romantic aspect too. I guess we’ll never know.”
“So maybe he really didn’t know about the different types of furry beaver then?”
“No, maybe not,” Marcie admitted, giggling.
“But he writes about those dryads and fauns, the same as you were talking about. They
sound quite naughty.”
“Yes, you’re right!” Marcie confirmed, leafing through the book, maybe in a half-hearted
attempt to find the references to them. “Perhaps that really does reflect his own conflicted
attitude about sexuality. We inherit that naughty stuff from the ancient world, the myths of
classical Greece and Rome, and that’s still in our culture, in ourselves. Lewis maybe knew
that, but he also thought he knew the importance of the Christian message, that we’ve
learnt the Good News through the gospel now. So I imagine he felt very strongly that we
have got to find ways to rein in our wild pagan passions, to subjugate our bodies to better
serve Aslan’s will, to better cherish his kingdom.”
“Aslan?” Ben queried.
“Oh, the lion. You’ll get to him. See what you think, but he is meant to be a kind of fairy tale
version of Jesus Christ. And Lewis did think he was writing fairy stories with Narnia, which
was a good thing as far as he was concerned, but he must have also known that real fairy
stories and medieval folklore can be pretty dark and sexual too. They tap into elemental life
forces, I guess, and you put air and fire down on your list too, didn’t you? Were those two
classical elements about the book too?”
“No, that wasn’t the book,” Ben corrected her, wondering how he’d explain what he’d felt,
“But maybe it was about the forces of life. Erm, I was in the kitchen, standing at the sink,
and I felt a bit sad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marcie rushed to say.
“No,” Ben rushed to explain, “That’s not my point. I was sad, but then I felt uplifted. I
thought of what you’d said about the clear air, our escape. I can choose a positive future, I
don’t need to be sad, and you’ve enabled that. It’s like an angel is lifting me up, into the
open sky above us,” Ben paused, not sure how to say that he’d thought Marcie wasn’t the
saintly angel herself. He wanted to be sure that she felt flattered, but he wanted her to
know he wasn’t a fantasist too. He settled on adding, “It’s not a real angel, I know it’s just
you and me, being together. We’re making it work, finding the way into the new fresh air.”
Marcie remained silent while she listened, smiling dreamily as she stared into his eyes, her
hands still on the closed book in her lap. So Ben carried on, “And then I thought those
feelings, our relationship, well, they’re like a fire, an inner fire that can power my new life.
We’ve kindled something together, a radiant force, bright and dangerous energy from
nothing, and I want to nurture that. I want to tend the fire, so it doesn’t go out, but so that it
doesn’t burn up too fierce, either. You know how you give a real fire time, until the big logs
are burning on the embers, little flames dancing all over them? That’s where the serious
heat is, when you can cook on it, when you know it can take anything thrown on it. That’s
what I want to feed for us. Now our flame had caught, I want to care for it. Does this make
any sense? Do you know what I’m feeling?”
“Yes,” Marcie replied, smiling wholeheartedly now. She gently set aside her book to take
his hand, resting on his knee, while she put her other arm around his shoulder again to
cradle his head. Still looking deep into his eyes, she went on, “Yes, I think I know what
you’re feeling. I think it’s called love, Ben, and I’m feeling it too.”
He knew she was right, that all his fizzing thoughts and feelings came down to that one
simple word, and he felt uplifted again to hear her confirm that it was in her heart too.
Acting as one, they brought their mouths together. Ben felt his heart hammering as they
kissed, bringing his free hand to Marcie’s jaw, but this was a slow and tender kiss. Their
lips were parted, their tongues played softly, their hands lightly stroked the other’s hair
and face, but their actions were in such contrast to their earlier hungry passion. This was
the calm serene opposite to that, coming softly from their shared affection in an easy and
relaxed flow, now that they’d sated their physical hunger for each other.
Ben let his hand fall down, caressing Marcie’s neck the brushing down the soft fabric of her
blouse until it came to rest at her breast. As he carefully held its round mass in his cupped
hand she sighed and gripped the back of his head tenderly.
“Oh Ben, what a day!” she said with a heavy sigh, barely above a whisper, still almost
touching his lips. He was aware of the rise and fall of her chest beneath his hand, as well as
the air from her mouth on his face. She drew another deep breath as she started listing
everything that had happened, “I started finding a new tutor, you’ve started with a new
medical regime, then you’ve had a heavy conversation with your work, and we’ve started
your legal claim as well.” He listened respectfully, his hand still against her as she went on,
“But we’ve made love properly for the first time, and we’ve agreed that we’re genuinely
living together too. And that’s the really important thing in all this, isn’t it? That we’re
together, that we want to stay together. Oh Ben,” she repeated as she seemed to reach her
conclusion, “You’ve saved me.”
“No, you saved me, for real Marcie,” Ben argued in a low murmur, putting just a little
pressure on her breast, “You saved my life, and you’re still saving it, with everything that
you do.”
“We’re saving each other, then,” Marcie conceded, “Summoning our own heavenly
guardian angel together, as you said.”
“And that’s another thing, two things, you missed from your list, about what makes today
special,” Ben thought to add, “They’re probably not your Catholic heaven, but I’ve
discovered two magical secret worlds, one in your old children’s book, an imaginary one,
through the fur coats in the wardrobe, and one inside you, a real place of private joy,
through the enchanted fur of your Vixen.”
“Oh Ben, you come up with the most unexpected things!” Marcie exclaimed giggling,
leaning back a little to look at him with twinkling eyes, even as their hands still held each
other.
“I thought I’d been coming up with exactly what you’d expected,” Ben quickly responded,
relishing the double entendre. Marcie laughed aloud, and Ben was excited to feel her
shaking beneath his hand. Still, he dropped it, folding it over their clasped hands now,
releasing her politely lest she think he was just trying for a sordid grope.
“Ooh, and I so want to help you keep coming up in that same old way, all sticky and creamy,
time and time again!” she said with entreatment, gripping his hand and head even as Ben
felt his arousal stirring again, “But time is slipping away, isn’t it?”
Ben let her pull her hand away from his as she raised both arms out wide, stretching in a
luxuriant way and filling her lungs. His eyes inevitably fell to her blouse, where he noticed
how this gesture raised her breasts out towards him. She went on unselfconsciously as if
she were rousing herself from slumber, “I need to shower and get dressed up. And you
could keep making yourself useful by bringing the washing in,” she concluded as she
exhaled and looked warmly into his eyes.
Ben felt a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get the opportunity to keep Marcie company
in the shower, to see more of her naked body again, but he was eager to be helpful. He rose
from the sofa, recovered the wash basket and headed through the back door as she
disappeared into the bathroom. He could hear the shower start to run as he gathered the
clothes and sheets, and it was still going when he got in. Not everything was dry, but he’d
noticed an airer folded up in the cupboard, so he got that out in the living room to use for
the few bits that were too damp to fold, making stacks of the other laundry on the table.
“Oh, thank you,” Marcie said as she came out of the bathroom wrapped in her towels,
explaining as she pointed to the airer, “I normally put that up in the bedroom when I need
it, but it’s fine here if we’re going out.” She leant towards him as she drew close to peck his
lips. “I was thinking of wearing the same dress you saw me in the evening before last. Do
you think that’s okay? It will reveal a bit more than I’m used to showing off in public, but if
I remember, that was what you suggested,” she said with a shy smile as he put his hand on
her waist, resting it on the damp towel’s thick fabric.
“Aye, you’ll look wonderful, if you’re okay with that. There will be plenty of others, well,
with a lot more on show,” Ben tried to reassure her.
“Aye, I’ll be brave,” she said, imitating his affirmation, simpering a little before she gave
him another pecked kiss, then making for the bedroom.
“I’ll have a shower too, when I’ve finished this,” Ben called, hoping that he’d be okay to join
her in her bedroom to get dressed.
He was indeed glad of the shower, to clean his slippery and slightly tender penis especially.
He washed his hair, thinking that he may need to pick up some more non-essential
toiletries like his hair gel from his old flat. Once dry, he wrapped his towel around his waist,
then went to visit the spare room to pick up clean underwear and the shirt from his meagre
pile of clothes. The shirt was surely still clean enough to go out in, he figured. He
remembered how he’d modestly taken it off just two days ago, stoically preparing to get
into the camp bed on his own, and thought how much things had changed since then.
Ben heard the hairdryer as he approached the half-open bedroom door. “Knock knock,” he
said loudly as he put his shoulder to the door, remembering the way that Marcie had come
into the bathroom when he was in the shower. He didn’t want to intrude if she were being
modest, though in fact he’d already glimpsed her through the doorway, sat at her little
dressing table with her back to him, already in her blue summer dress.
“Just come in, silly,” she called out, adding, “If I’d wanted some privacy, I’d have closed the
door properly.” She twisted around to smile up a him, still drying her matted hair, holding
the hairdryer up in one hand and a large spiky hairbrush in the other. Ben smiled foolishly
himself, feeling excited to see her in that dress again, revealing her wide deep cleavage
wonderfully, just as it had before. Marcie was already turning back to the mirror though,
commenting, “Now you’re living here, I’m afraid you’ll probably be spending a lot of time
watching me do battle with this hair.”
Ben muttered that he was fine with that. He kept to himself that he quite liked watching
Marcie’s vigorous methodical movements, her elbows raised, twisting as she turned her
head one way and then another in front of the mirror. He looked away though, as he
dropped his clothes on the bed next to the piles of things that she must have moved
temporarily from her chair and table. She apologised again for the mess, but they both also
agreed again that there would be plenty of time to sort through everything. Then Ben also
dropped his towel from his waist to begin getting dressed, knowing full well that Marcie
could see him in her mirror.
“You are an exhibitionist, aren’t you?” she lightly remarked over the noise of the hairdryer,
explaining, “I’m not sure these gauzy drapes really stop prying eyes. I closed the curtains to
get dressed just now.”
“I’m sorry I missed that,” Ben said honestly, risking her thinking he was being voyeuristic
himself by going on, “I’d have liked to see you, in your underwear, maybe trying clothes
out.”
“Well, I found something blue to go with the dress, but you’ll just have to wait to see them,”
Marcie replied airily. Ben knew he’d look forward to that, though he had already noticed
her sky-blue bra strap. “You really didn’t think to draw the curtains, though?” she asked,
returning to her point as he quickly got dressed.
“I guessed no one else would be looking, maybe,” he explained, “Maybe I am showing off
for you, but I suppose, fundamentally, I’m not really bothered.” He reflected on his
thoughts a little deeper as he sat down carefully on the bed just behind her, making eye
contact in the mirror, “It’s not polite, maybe. And it would be awful if kids, girls, saw me
and thought I was flashing. But it’s not like nudity is against my religion, or anything. We’re
all just humans underneath our clothes, aren’t we? As nature intended. It’s nothing to be
ashamed of, however old or whatever shape we are. And I guess sometimes, like on a ship,
you can’t be too precious, you know, about modesty. I remember my first trip out of
Tynemouth, changing into wetsuits to get into dinghies, I saw others just getting behind the
van, hiding from the road but not from the rest of us, stripping right down. I saw a slightly
older woman’s small boobs and bush, and I guess it was a cheap thrill for me, at the time,
when I was still maybe just nineteen, but I thought, ‘Oh right, it’s like that is it? Well, I’ll not
worry either.’ And then when it was my turn, I just dropped my boxer shorts along with
everything else, to save them getting wet, then zipped into the neoprene.”
Marcie had stopped the hairdryer while he’d been talking and was now brushing her hair
out, giving it the fluffy volume that Ben had been so amazed by when he’d first seen it.
“That’s an interesting story. It’s like those other stories we were sharing last night. You
don’t need to tell me everything though, you know, about sneaky peeks at other women’s
vulvas or whatever.”
“No, I wasn’t saying it to confess,” Ben said, then considered, “Well, maybe, a bit. But
maybe I’m saying it like a warning too, to sound things out for us two. I hope I’ll keep
sailing, or doing other outdoor things, and maybe that will mean being naked, briefly, in
front of virtual strangers. I’m hoping you don’t mind, and I guess that works both ways. I’m
saying I don’t mind if others see you undressed. But I guess it’s like the old advice, ‘You can
look, but don’t touch.’ That gives us a rule, a line we don’t cross, and then we know we’re
staying faithful, to each other. Right?”
“Right,” Marcie confirmed cautiously, peering closely in the mirror with her glasses off as
she put on her eye makeup, “I don’t think my previous boyfriends thought like that, about
it working both ways around especially I’m sure, even if we’d never talked about things as
honestly as you are with me now. I think I’d be too shy to slip everything off in front of
strangers, strange men, to get into a wetsuit though. Maybe it’s like topless sunbathing. I
remember when I first heard about it, on holiday in Malta, my mum or someone telling me
that women did it on other beaches around the Mediterranean. My first self-conscious
young teenage thoughts were, ‘I’m glad they don’t do that here, it’s certainly not for me.’
But it’s reassuring to know that you wouldn’t be the jealous possessive patriarchal male
about that kind of thing if it came down to it,” then she turned and asked, “What do you
think?”
She looked at him myopically, blinking while her smile twinkled, obviously hoping for a
compliment, but perhaps teasingly flirting with her batted eyelids too. Ben was quite
powerfully struck by the effect, with her exaggerated eyeliner and grey-blue eyeshadow,
her face framed under the centre parting in her cloud of hair. “You look amazing,” he said
honestly, “Like a sixties icon, Elizabeth Taylor or Claudia Cardinale maybe. No, that’s not
right,” he quickly corrected himself, contrasting her square jaw, her strong profile, her
dappled skin and her light eagerness to his mental picture those posing devas, with their
unreal perfection that was merely artificial. He tried to backtrack, “You look like you,
unique, and you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said, briefly peering at herself closely in the mirror again before leaning
back as she put her glasses back on, “It’s when I put some effort into makeup like this that I
sometimes wish I had contact lenses.”
“No,” Ben tried to reassure her, “You’re beautiful in your glasses too. They add to your
sophistication, your strength, your confidence. It’s like you’re in control.”
“If you say so,” she said sceptically. She obviously wanted to go back to their discussion
though, carrying on as she picked out a lipstick, “Still, to get back to your exhibitionism,
‘Look, don’t touch,’ certainly works for me. I’m happy if you stick to that ethic when you’re
showing your bits off. But is that what were you were thinking when you saw Shona getting
them out too?”
“No!” Ben immediately replied, as that morning’s embarrassing moment had not been on
his mind at all. He evaluated his knee-jerk reaction carefully though, realising that at some
inappropriate level it had also been sexy. He emphasised, “No, really. Shona wasn’t being
an exhibitionist, and I wasn’t there to be a voyeur. It was just an accident. Like you said, I
did notice her breasts, but perhaps that’s not surprising. Truly, you can be sure, it is only
you that I want to see, that I want to watch getting dressed, and undressed, to watch in the
shower.”
“Well, maybe I’ll let you help with some of those things sometime,” Marcie said
coquettishly, turning towards him again, now with her lips a deliciously deep glossy russet,
as Ben couldn’t help but notice when she pouted and leant towards him.
“You look gorgeous,” he said feebly in his dumbstruck way.
“Well, there’s no kissing or pawing at me now, at least until we’ve met your friends, okay?
Now, are we nearly ready to go? We’re catching the Metro to Monument, is that the plan? I
just need to find my nice boots and a little bag. My satchel would be overdoing it, I think, for
that whole bespectacled sexy librarian look. I just need my purse, keys, phone, tampon,
lipstick and a pen.”
“A pen?” Ben asked in surprise, though he also found himself wondering about where
Marcie was in her cycle, if she was thinking of a tampon.
“A teacher once told me, ‘Always carry a pen.’ And now I’m doing a PhD at a top university.
I guess it’s a habit, or a token of my studiousness. Anyway, the point of this evening was to
see if I could catch the eye of some cheeky Geordie chappies, wasn’t it? I might need to
write down a phone number.”
“I thought you said that was a fantasy,” Ben said, feeling a little unsure of how seriously
Marcie was taking this.
“I’m teasing! Surely you know I’m just teasing you?” she repeated with a worried frown,
squeezing his knee, “Maybe some lads will try and flirt with me tonight, I don’t know, and
maybe I’ll feel a bit flattered and even play along with it, however briefly. Again, I just don’t
know. I’m not used to this sort of thing, remember? But whatever happens, I can give you a
cast-iron guarantee that it’s you that I’ll be coming home with. I swear it by Holy Mary, or
whoever you wish, by Aslan, by Mother Earth. I’m taking you, only you, to my bed, tonight.
You’ll remember that, won’t you? You won’t get jealous? I don’t want to be worrying about
that coming up to spoil our evening. And I also think, if anyone’s going to get jealous, it will
be me when I see some statuesque blonde setting her sights on you, homing in as like
attracts like.”
“No,” Ben said, taking her words on board seriously, clarifying, “No jealousy, and no rivals.”
But then he tried to lighten things up again, adding, “Anyway, if you’ve got your phone, he
can just key his number straight into your contacts.”
She swatted at him playfully across the shoulder as she rose to her feet, then said firmly as
he began raising his own hands in retaliation, “Ah-ah, no pawing at me, remember?”
Ben watched her move around to the far side of the bed, then squat down to search in the
drawer on its far side. She eventually pulled out a small black leather bag, not much more
than a purse itself, on a long strap, as well as a pair of elegant lace-up boots, also in soft
black leather. She sat down next to him, close enough to brush his hip with hers, and began
putting these on, wrapping the long laces around a dozen or more metal hooks.
“I like those,” Ben remarked, admiring their delicate pointed toes and modest heels.
“Oh, why are men are so predictable?” Marcie scoffed as she finally tried the first bow,
halfway up her shin. “They’re a bit scuffed though, aren’t they? Still, I bet you’d like them
even more if I was just wearing them with suspenders and a basque.”
“Is that a possibility?” Ben asked, only half joking, adding, “And I could polish them up for
you.”
“Well, at least I know what I need to do if I want to encourage you to do something really
awful, like regrouting the bathroom tiles or fixing a new mortgage,” she said with mock
resignation.
“Do you really have a basque then?” Ben asked casually, but with genuine curiosity too.
“No,” she admitted, then shot him a twinkling smile, “But I could get one, just for you. It
would be cheaper than hiring a tiler or a financial advisor. Oh, I nearly forgot jewellery. I
don’t have much,” she said apologetically, returning to her dressing table. She pulled out a
snaky silver chain with a plain cross on it. “There’s this, from my other grandmother, but
it’s a bit Christian. I could take the cross off though.”
“Don’t worry. You’re beautiful as you are, your bare neck especially,” Ben reassured her,
“And we’re just going for a pizza, then a bar. It’s not like it’s the opera.”
“Okay, I’ll just put these bangles on then,” she decided for herself, pulling out a stack of thin
silver-seeming hoops to put over her wrist. She popped her lipstick into her bag, then said
“I’ll just pick up my other bits. Are you ready to go?”
“I need to pick up my phone too,” Ben said rising to his feet too.
“Ooh, and your inhaler, that needs to always be on your list now,” she reminded him.
“You’re right! Thank you,” Ben, genuinely grateful, made a show of patting his pockets,
“Wallet, keys, phone, puffer. I’ll remember.”
They gathered their things, but before they left the flat, Marcie decided she’s like
something to cover herself up with a little more, “Just while we’re on the streets,” she
assured Ben. She picked up a short white cardigan from the bedroom, then said briskly,
“Right, I’m ready. You’re sure you don’t want your jacket? Let’s do it then, let’s face
Newcastle’s finest!”
They held hands as they took the short walk to the Metro station, then as they sat close to
each other waiting on a bench too, leaning their heads together, Ben enjoying the fragrance
of Marcie’s fresh perfume and clean hair. They spoke only a little, as Ben let his thoughts
run. When Marcie had shown him her silver necklace, he’d had thought of a piece of
jewellery that he could pick up from his flat to give to her, a Nordic silver hammer, and he
hoped he’d remember it when they popped over there tomorrow. However, a part of him
was also worrying about what they’d been talking about in the bedroom.
He thought he may have made a mistake by saying he stuck to the rule, “Look, don’t touch.”
He reflected that it sounded like the kind of thing a lap-dancer might say to her client, and
he didn’t want Marcie to think that he’d ever look for that kind of seedy thrill. By extension,
it might also imply that he’d been looking for Marcie to condone his voyeurism through
pornography. He thought guiltily of the few magazine cuttings and even a Russ Meyer video
stashed away back at his own flat, evidence of his occasional curiosity about seeking
stimulation from such things. He knew for sure that he didn’t want to bring them into his
relationship with Marcie, to try sharing them with her. He recognised that they represented
an exploitative industry, or misogynistic attitudes at least, which he understood as
degrading to their male audience as well as the women who did the work. Perhaps he had
carelessly objectified some women’s bodies in the past, but he wanted the opposite of that
with Marcie. He wanted to see her whole, as a woman with a beautiful body, a brilliant
mind, a passionate heart and a precious soul, with an entire inner world.
When the train arrived, it wasn’t overcrowded, in the lull between rush hour and the true
night out crowd. They squeezed together as they found a pair of seats, letting the train
carry them down into the heart of the city. They remained quiet but petted at each other’s
hands, just as they had on the station’s bench. And just as he had then, Ben had to keep on
reminding himself to not try kissing Marcie’s made-up lips.
They emerged from the station to join the other couples and small groups drifting through
town, each absorbed in their own evening out it seemed, as Ben led Marcie toward the
restaurant. When they passed a doorway to a sleazy venue that had a sign advertising pole
dancing, Ben saw his chance to unburden himself of his thoughts.
“I know we talked about nudity being okay,” Ben said in a low voice, lowering his head to
bring himself close to her ear as they kept walking, “But I wouldn’t want to go somewhere
like that, you know, with you or without you.”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me all your secrets, you know,” Marcie said, smiling kindly once
she’d followed his eyes and realised, after perhaps a moment’s surprise, what he was
talking about.
“No, I mean it. I said it was okay to just look, if you don’t touch, but I didn’t mean it about
things like that. I’m not that kind of man, the kind who pays women to be strippers. I never
want to be.”
“I know,” Marcie reassured him, squeezing his hand, “You said you were sorry about what
happened in Tallinn all those years ago, and I believe you. I know exotic dancing isn’t the
same thing, but it is all sex work in a way, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s even bigger than that, isn’t it?” Ben said, now resolved to carry on, “It’s the
whole porno business too. And now we’re a couple, I don’t want any of that, to bring it into
our new world.”
“Woah, Ben,” Marcie cautioned him, “I know pornography is a minefield for men and for
couples. Let’s take baby steps with this. I know what you’re saying, it’s a seedy industry.
Hey, is this your restaurant?” she asked as they turned down another side street and saw
the signs.
Ben confirmed it was, but Marcie suggested, “Let’s just pause here a moment, so I can say
my piece before we get inside. I think some women in porno say they’re empowered by it,
but I’m sure there’s still exploitation. I know now that you’re a kind and thoughtful man, so
I know that you’d never want to exploit or degrade anyone, and I trust you absolutely, I
trust your fidelity to me. But I won’t ask you to make a promise you can’t keep. I do know
that porno is fantasy, and I know we can keep fantasy in our heads without confusing it
with the real thing. My first impulse is to say, ‘Just keep it to yourself,’ but maybe that’s not
right. Maybe I’ll be curious one day, but then again maybe I’ll find I’m appalled by what
you’ve been looking at.” She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts, whilst Ben thought
anxiously of what she might be disgusted by that he’d seen. Then she went on, “Hmm, I
think I know how we might handle this. Let’s remember what we agreed before about, well,
about our sexual expression. We’re honest with each other, as you’ve just been
demonstrating, and that means we’re allowed to just come out and say what we want to do.
Then the deal is the other one can just say, ‘No thanks,’ and we get on with other things.”
“Thank you, genuinely,” Ben said, “But I still won’t bring any into your flat.”
“Our flat, now, remember?” Marcie replied, adding with a sly smile, “Well, if you change
your mind, just remember I’m a librarian. Show me what you find, then, so long as I don’t
just say, ‘No thanks, put that one straight in the bin,’ I’ll catalogue it and check it in, giving
it shelf space even if I don’t read it myself.” Ben found himself smiling as he agreed to that,
so Marcie concluded, “Right, that’s sorted then. Are you ready to eat now, or what?”
Chapter 19
They were still a little early for Ben’s booking, but the restaurant had no trouble fitting
them in at one of the close-packed tables, lined up with their neat white tablecloths. They’d
only glanced at the menu briefly when a waiter asked them what they’d like to drink.
Marcie asked for a glass of house white, and Ben followed her example.
As the waiter retreated, she remarked, “We could have got a bottle, if you’re on the wine
too.”
“I don’t know. Half a bottle then a couple of pints may be more of a session than I’d
expected,” Ben said cautiously.
“Maybe, but it is our first proper night out. Hey, they do more than pizza here,” she added,
studying her menu more closely. However they still ended up both choosing pizzas when
the waiter returned with their wine a few moments later.
Once they’d been left alone again, Marcie raised her glass, making her bangles clink
musically against each other on her wrist. “Well, this is it, Ben. Our first date, but we’re
already officially unofficially living together. Slàinte mhath!”
“Saħħa! To our shared magical future!” Ben responded, chinking their glasses together.
They both took a good mouthful, then Marcie remarked, “It’s nice and chilled, at least. Oh,
Ben. Thank you. Thank you for a night out, thank you for falling into my life, thank you for
being you. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do, and you know I love you too. You lift me into the open air, you’ve made fire with me,
remember?”
“I do remember,” Marcie said tenderly they lowered their glasses, then went on, “But after
that otherworldly air and fire, I wanted to check what else I remembered seeing on your
list when we looked at it together at the doctor’s. I think you’d written ‘Lucy’s trap’ down.
I know we’ve been talking about CS Lewis, but I don’t think we really mentioned that. I’m
curious, because I love Narnia and I’m really pleased that it’s hooked you too, but have I
gone on too long about it already?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, “I like talking to you about your special book. I know it might
sound odd, but it is sexy, it’s like it’s inside you, like when we were in the kitchen. Your
Vixen was the way into a secret magical world, and a new life for me, one that I’ve
discovered at the same time as Narnia, pushing through the fur.”
“Ben! You said that before, but you’re making me blush now,” Marcie chastised him,
batting at his hand lightly, though she had a sly grin too.
“But my thought about Lucy wasn’t about any of that,” Ben explained, “It was when she
realised the faun wasn’t being kind, that he had a secret agenda. It had seemed so nice, his
cosy home, their shared tea, his stories about parties with the dryads. But then I really felt
for her, when it dawned on her that she was in a trap, as she tried to calmly plead with her
predator, appealing to his conscience. It moved me powerfully, I guess. I felt profound
sympathy for her, and I wondered,” he paused, concerned about touching a sensitive topic,
but carried on, “Well, I wondered if Richard had deceived you like that, if you’d felt like
Lucy in his trap. So my deep sympathy was for you too.”
“Wow,” Marcie said, blowing out a big breath, “That’s a really keen observation. Maybe
you’re right, maybe that’s exactly what it was, but I didn’t even notice it for myself. And
thank you for your sympathy, but I’m free now, aren’t I? You freed me.”
Suddenly her face fell and it almost seemed as if the blood was draining from her face. Ben
felt a spike of panic as she said quietly, “Oh, Holy Mary! It’s you. You’re Lucy, not me. I’m
the faun, I’m Mister Tumnus. I’ve lured you into my den and given you sensuous treats and
you think it’s all cosy, but somewhere deep down an alarm is sounding. Damn, I even made
a cage around you with my own body, back in the kitchen. Your unconscious mind sees that
it’s a trap, and you zoned right in on Lucy’s plight because your gut feelings are telling you
that you’re the same, you know that you are like her!”
Ben urgently reached across the table to clutch her hand, vigorously denying everything
she’d just said, “No! That’s just not true at all. You saved me, you give me strength, the
power to be positive about the future. We’ve agreed we’re in synch, we are truly a couple,
true lovers.” Remembering fondly how she’d clung to him when they’d made love, making
that cage, he added, “And in the kitchen, well, I felt like you were pulling me as close to you
as you possibly could. It was wonderful, like we were merged, in one being, together.”
Marcie gave a shy smile as she seemed to calm down a little, “Okay, if you’re sure. We’re
probably reading way too much into this, you know. Oh, I think these might be ours.”
She’d interrupted herself as a waiter was indeed approaching their table with two large
plates. Their conversation paused as they both tried their pizzas. They were as good as Ben
remembered, for all their greasy topping, and Marcie seemed pleased too. After taking a
slurp from her wine, she went on, “Hmm, back to Narnia, I was going to say Lewis was
probably just writing for his times. I think Mister Tumnus was meant to be the everyman
who finds himself in an evil regime. That scene where he’s trying to trap Lucy, it’s the
dilemma that Lewis might have imagined many people facing under the Nazi regime in
World War Two just a few years earlier. There was probably something about Christian
duties and free will in his mind too.” Ben admitted he’d not thought of that, as Marcie took
another forkful then went on eagerly, “And he does the right thing anyway, doesn’t he? He
does free Lucy from the trap he was weaving, then helps her escape to safety, but as you’ll
find out, he’s punished for it by the regime, by the White Witch.”
“Then Aslan, the true king, turns up and defeats her, with Lucy’s help, liberating the
oppressed animal-people of Narnia?” Ben guessed.
“Hmm,” Marcie agreed, nodding as she swallowed her mouth full, “That’s pretty much it.
But Aslan maybe isn’t the ruler in that way. You don’t mind me sort of telling you the
ending, do you? It’s the children who become the new kings and queens of Narnia, in his
name. He’s more like the benevolent spirit of the land, I guess, immortal and omniscient,
but not always immanent, not always there in the flesh.”
“So if I’m finding a shining new world through you, through our love and our intimacy, then
you’re its Aslan,” Ben confidently stated.
“No, I can’t be Aslan!” Marcie contradicted, saying, “You’re Aslan. You’re the great big
blonde lion, treading his gentle paws on my luscious meadows, lapping at the secret pool of
my trickling spring water!”
Ben chuckled, privately pleased at the suggestive images that she was conjuring up, “Well
maybe you’re the witchy queen then, the magical goddess of the land. Maybe Lewis got it
wrong. She isn’t an evil queen of winter, she’s the natural balance to Aslan, to his summer
sun. Her magic isn’t in killing things, it’s in keeping them alive under the snow. She holds
the precious life close to her body, so it’s ready to re-emerge and flourish on his return,
bursting from her fertile earth when spring comes. What did the book say? ‘Always winter
but never Christmas.’ But if Lewis was such a Christian, he must have known that
Christmas is about a woman’s magic, about birthing new life, right at the heart of winter.
Even the Christian god needed help with that. The White Witch could also be your Holy
Mary, a kind of goddess herself.”
Marcie had been listening with seeming fascination, eating while he’d been speaking. As he
wound down, she leant forwards to clutch his hand as she eagerly agreed, “Hey, that all
sounds so right! You’ve got such good insight. Lewis didn’t know women, and maybe he
didn’t understand the passion of sexuality at all, but you do. You might not be able to spin it
into such a best selling children’s story, but your version makes so much more sense.”
She leant back, draining her glass, before taking a mouthful of pizza. As she chewed
thoughtfully, she said, “So you’re saying I’m the witch, and maybe I could get used to that
kind of power. But I’m sorry to say that I can’t see myself playing her if they made a film of
the book. Who would they cast, I wonder? One of your big screen heartthrobs? I imagine
her about seven foot tall, spikey and ash blonde, silver-haired even.”
Ben had noticed her empty glass and caught a waiter’s eye. After quickly conferring with
Marcie, who remarked that they should have got a bottle after all, he ordered two more
glasses, then tried to gather his thoughts about Marcie’s question. “Well, Cate Blanchett did
that for Lord of the Rings, pretty much nailing it perfectly, I reckon. I remember Helen
Mirren in Excalibur too, from the eighties, but she was a different sort of enchantress
maybe. Does the Britishness or the age matter? I don’t know. Uma Thurman maybe?” he
hazarded, vaguely remembering that he’d mentioned her name to Marcie before.
“You know some couples play this game where they have a list of famous names?” Marcie
asked with a playful smile on her lips, seemingly changing the subject. She explained, “They
nominate people for whom the couple’s fidelity or their vows would be waived, like they’d
get a hall pass if that person actually walked into their lives. I mean, if they had the
opportunity to have sex with that celebrity, they could take it and it wouldn’t count as
being unfaithful.” Ben said he understood, then she slyly asked, “Would Uma make your
list?”
“No I don’t think of her like that, sexually, nor those other actresses, those names that pop
into my mind,” Ben tried to reassure her, speaking honestly, “They’re not really real, are
they? But what about you? Who makes your list?”
“Oh, it’s Daniel Craig, from Our Friends in the North,” she said immediately, and Ben
laughed at her certainty. She teased, “If he walked in now, I’m off. Sorry, that’s just the way
it is. But there isn’t anyone like that for you? If they came up to you and said, ‘I’ve seen the
way you look at me, and I like what I’m seeing too, so how about it? Just a quick ride, old
Marcie need never know.’ You can tell me. I know it’s just make-believe, it’s not what you’d
really do. Maybe she’s not a screen goddess, maybe she’s a pin-up model, or a pop star, like
Emma Bunton.”
“No, definitely not! Don’t tease. No, I can’t think of anyone,” Ben reaffirmed, thinking of
who he might actually daydream about whilst masturbating, if it wasn’t just some
anonymous porn model. He suspected Marcie wasn’t asking and wouldn’t want to know if
he privately had a crush on a woman like that. But in his own mind he knew that his
fantasies would more likely find someone from his real life. He knew that in his arousal
he’d previously enjoyed visualising ex-girlfriends or merely his latest date, maybe a woman
who’d danced enthusiastically with him, or even someone he’d seen in the gym, thinking
guiltily of how he met Marcie.
Perhaps Marcie realised this may be the case, maybe knowing it to be true of men in
general, when she asked, “What about someone closer to home? What about Shona, the girl
next door? Isn’t that every man’s fantasy? Wouldn’t you want to try losing yourself in her
big hips, her soft belly, her milky breasts, her soulful blue eyes?”
“No!” Ben firmly said, wondering at Marcie’s imagination, “You keep bringing her up
though. Are you actually a bit suspicious, deep down, after what I saw this morning?”
“No, it’s just,” Marcie paused, anxiety suddenly creasing her brow, then went on in a rush,
“She saw us, Ben. In the kitchen, when we were at it, when we were making love. I saw her
face appear at the window, Fiona in her arms, while you were inside me, and I caught her
eye. She gave such a perfect comic expression of surprise, her eyebrows shooting up and
her mouth making a big round ‘Oh’. Then her face broke into this huge cheeky grin of pure
wicked glee, and she just gave me just this tiny wink before she disappeared. It all
happened in a second, a fraction of a second. But I guess we both knew that neither of us
could unsee something like that, that we couldn’t just forget or ignore what we’d just
shared.”
Ben had felt a sudden nauseous wave of panic as Marcie spoke, as if he’d just realised that
he’d accidentally committed a genuine crime. What they’d done could be called public
indecency, perhaps even counting as a sexual offence. That subsided into mere profound
embarrassment as he recognised that the worst had already happened, and that Shona and
Marcie had already patched up any damage. A lot of things that Marcie had been saying,
about his exhibitionism and so on, were suddenly falling into place in his mind. He thought
of what happened at the time too, asking, “So that’s why there was a moment when you
asked me to stop, and that’s why she came down to see you, a little bit after we’d finished?”
he queried cautiously.
“Yes,” Marcie explained, blushing herself now as she sipped her wine, “She’d heard me. I
was too loud, wasn’t I? I couldn’t help myself. But she’d thought I was in distress. It’s only
forty-eight hours since I was screaming at a threatening bully called Richard, after all. She’d
quickly popped the boys down in front of the tele and come down to check up on me. When
she spoke to me, she was profoundly apologetic, but it was me who really wanted to
apologise to her. Well, that was at first, when we both felt a bit ashamed, I guess. But then
she said that she’d not really seen that much, just your bottom, and then she told me that
she thought it looked nice, your bum, I mean. We both started giggling then, seeing the
funny side of it. She told me some other things too, and we had a proper laugh, which really
helped. Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of this!” Marcie wailed in distress, “I agreed
with Shona that it would be our secret. You won’t tell her, will you, or anyone else?”
“No, I promise, Marcie, you have my word,” Ben said seriously, feeling relief, glad that it
seemed there wouldn’t be worse consequences for his indiscretion.
They’d finished their pizzas now, Marcie leaving some of her crusts, though they still had
some wine in their glasses. The waiter came to clear their plates, and they confirmed they’d
just have the bill, not coffee or deserts. They sat back and slowly finished their drinks,
perhaps both deliberately changing the subject as they spoke a little more casually about
where they were going next, and about other venues in the centre.
Ben still felt a little odd though, knowing now how much of an exhibitionist he’d been,
especially after his earnest repudiation of sexualised displays of nudity. He also felt
somewhat worried about meeting Shona now, for the morning coffee that Marcie had
already arranged on the very next day. Would he be able to meet her eye? Would she be
more awkward about breastfeeding in front of him? Would she even come down to the
yard with the boys anymore? But by the time they rose to leave the restaurant, he’d
decided that worrying wouldn’t help, that they’d just have to cross those bridges as they
came to them. He’d remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know she’d seen anything
anyway, which would perhaps make it easier.
Now that darkness had fallen, the clear spring evening seemed cooler as they left the
restaurant. Despite that, the streets were busier as more people gathered for the night’s
delights, hanging around outside the bars and takeaways. Ben knew though, there was still
nothing like the bustle that there would be tomorrow night or for the rest of the weekend.
It was only a short walk to their rendezvous with Geoff and Sofie, Marcie remarking that it
was hardly worth her putting her cardigan on again. As they pushed their way into the
noise and smoke of the high-ceilinged bar, Ben saw Geoff almost immediately, sitting on a
high stool at a small table next to Sofie, overshadowing her smaller slim figure. Waving, Ben
made his way towards them through clumps of other people who were standing or drifting
about with drinks in hand. No one was dancing to the tunes, which Ben judged were on the
dull R&B fringes of house music, but the raised voices of their chatter almost drowned it
out anyway.
Ben noticed that Geoff was in a casual shirt too, open wide at the neck, revealing a thick
silvery chain that Ben knew was actually white gold. Sofie was wearing a simple velvet
choker around her neck, and a short cocktail dress that left her shoulders and collarbones
bare, along with quite a lot of her upper chest, Ben guiltily noticed. He was pleased though
they had made an effort to dress up for the night out too, as Geoff stood up to give him a
quick hug. Ben gave Sofie a peck on the cheek before properly introducing them both to
Marcie, leaning in close to make himself heard over background noise. Geoff shook her
hand quite formally, whilst Sofie rose to clasp her arms as she kissed both her cheeks in a
friendly and natural way, before patting Geoff’s vacated stool beside her, inviting Marcie to
sit down with her.
Geoff suggested he go to the bar with Ben, draining the last of his pint, and when Ben asked,
Sofie suggested Marcie have a lime Breezer like hers. As Ben left Marcie alone with Sofie, he
smiled encouragingly and gave her a subtle thumbs up as she gave him a slightly anxious
little wave, perched on the stool, her other hand folded around the cardigan on her knees.
As they waited at the bar, trying to get attention, Geoff asked him more about his lungs, and
about how work had reacted to his news. Ben told him about the possible workplace injury
claim, which Geoff thought sounded serious, then he asked Geoff about his own work,
which Geoff brushed over quickly. He seemed more interested in how Ben had met Marcie,
and congratulated him on deciding to move in with her properly. Ben felt pleased by his
reaction as they claimed their drinks, realising now that Geoff was the first person who
he’d told clearly and honestly that he was genuinely living with Marcie now.
As they got back to the two women, Ben was surprised to see them clinging to each other’s
bare arms, deep in animated conversation, grinning and gossiping as if they’d been in each
other’s confidence for years. There was no chance of overhearing them or joining in, so Ben
kept talking to Geoff, asking about his plans for sailing that summer, and mentioning that
Marcie’s family were from Malta. Unlike Ben, it turned out that Geoff had sailed with crews
there, but as he started telling Ben his stories of those expeditions, a familiar figure
approached their table. She glided towards them with a dazzling yet brittle smile, a
champagne flute in hand, wearing a satin dress that wasn’t much more than a slip.
Chapter 20
“Hi Jo,” Geoff said with an uncertain look towards Ben, “I didn’t know Ben had arranged to
meet you here too.”
“Hello Geoff, hello Ben,” she said, before pushing herself forward to put her lips very
deliberately to Ben’s cheek first, then Geoff’s, letting her hand touch Geoff’s shoulder as if
for balance, though it seemed to linger there a moment longer than necessary. Then she
said loudly, with a piqued tone, “No, Ben hadn’t arranged to meet here. I rather thought he
was ill, and unable to come out.”
“No, they only kept me in one night. Erm, Jo, I’d like you to meet Marcie,” Ben said
anxiously, tapping her arm to interrupt her intense confab with Sofie. He leaned in close to
Marcie’s ear, “Marcie, this is Jo, who I told you about.” Then, turning back to Jo, feeling his
heart thumping with anxiety, he came out and admitted, “Marcie’s my new girlfriend.”
“Oh, well I’m pleased to meet you, Marcie,” Jo said formally as she took Marcie’s hand and
shook it politely. Ben realised then that Jo was not going cause a scene or start an argument
with him about why he’d blown her out for their date when he was now out with someone
else, but he did hear her catty remarks to Marcie, “Ben didn’t mention little you, waiting in
the wings. Did he know you when you were younger?”
The way that Jo had emphasised the word “know” made Ben think she was insinuating
they’d had sex sometime in the past, perhaps trying to make Marcie give herself away with
a blush or a guilty look. He’d also noticed that she’d managed to imply that Marcie was
both old and short. But Marcie was clearly able to play it just as coolly as her, as she fixed Jo
in the eye and said, “No, Ben and I only met on Monday actually, when he needed some
emergency care in the hospital. I was there for him, we quickly became good friends, and
now we’re a couple.”
Jo didn’t seem to have a response to that, so Geoff filled the awkward silence, saying loudly,
“Actually Ben was just telling me about his knackered lungs, Jo. It sounds like it was quite
bad.”
“Well, you still seem well enough to enjoy a homely little night out, my love,” Jo said,
turning to Ben with a smile that seemed cruelly patronising, “I’ll head back over to my
girlfriends now. I won’t disturb your cosy foursome any longer. I just wanted to say hi. So,
‘Hi,’ and now, ‘Bye.’”
Jo gave Geoff what seemed to be a sly caress as she carelessly brushed his neck, from
behind his ear to his shoulder, making it seem almost accidental as she turned away. Then
she twisted back towards Ben, and even though she was still close enough to lean forwards
and peck his cheek if she’d wanted, she put her fingers to her lips and blew him a pouting
kiss. “Maybe later, my love,” she said seductively, pushing her chin forward provocatively.
Before he could respond, she’d turned away for the final time, making a slinking walk away
through the crowd toward a group of three other glamorous young women who were
surreptitiously looking their way.
Ben leant in close to hug Marcie around her shoulders as she smiled anxiously up at him.
He pressed his lips to her cheek, then said close by her ear, “I’m sorry about that. I had no
idea she’d be here. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him, carefully planting a delicate kiss on his lips, “But are you? No
second thoughts?”
“Hell, no!” Ben said emphatically, “We’re together now, you and me. We’re solid.”
“Good,” she said, smiling broadly now, “We can get on with enjoying our evening out then.”
She turned back to Sofie to say something to her that Ben couldn’t hear, touching her
shoulder as she leant in close, and Sofie replied earnestly, gripping Marcie’s hand. So Ben
turned back to Geoff, who asked if everything was alright. He’d known Jo for longer than
Ben, though as Ben understood it, they weren’t close friends. Of course he’d known that Jo
and Ben had been seeing each other recently, but he must have realised that it was over
when Ben had told him about Marcie. Ben thought he ought to fill in the details though, so
he explained that he and Jo had called it off when he’d phoned her from the hospital. He
also said that he’d thought at the time that Jo would be the one to move straight on to a
fresh relationship after that, but it seemed he’d beaten her to it.
Geoff went on to ask Ben about his plans with Marcie now, and they got into talking about
the practicalities of moving in with someone else. Geoff came up with things like claiming a
TV license refund and checking his updated credit rating, which made Ben realise just how
much there was to think about, and just what a big step he was taking with Marcie.
“Don’t worry about it,” Geoff reassured him, with a light laugh as he bumped his fist against
Ben’s shoulder, “I’m a project manager. It’s my job to be thinking of a thousand and one
things that need to be done in a certain order. You’ve got loads of time and things will all
get sorted out in the end. Just enjoy yourselves, enjoy making your new home together.”
Ben thanked him, feeling genuinely reassured, impulsively demonstrating that by briefly
gripping Geoff’s shoulder.
Sofie broke off from Marcie briefly to say something in Geoff’s ear, so Ben asked Marcie
how she was doing. She assured him that she and Sofie were getting on very well, with Jo
already forgotten it seemed, then Sofie was herself congratulating Ben on moving in with
Marcie, even though she was sorry to hear about his chest. Ben couldn’t help his thoughts
from once again running in a wildly inappropriate direction as he leaned forwards, putting
his ear close to Sofie’s mouth, inadvertently looking at the wide expanse of pale skin across
her own flat chest. Even as he politely replied, he knew he’d noticed how small her breasts
seemed compared to Marcie’s, the low bumps below the straight top of her dress
contrasting dramatically with the pillowy cleavage that Marcie was showing.
“You must both come over for dinner some time,” Sofie told him, gripping Geoff’s arm to
pull him in close too, “You can sleep over so you can both have a drink. We can all get to
know each other better.” Ben and Geoff both agreed, then they leant back to let Sofie speak
to Marcie again, who’d seemed to be having a rather stilted exchange with Geoff before
Sofie had grabbed him.
The girls had already finished their drinks, so the boys quickly drained theirs and offered to
go to the bar again. Marcie quickly fumbled in her bag, then pushed a folded twenty pound
note into Ben’s hand as he left, insisting it was her round. Ben promised to bring back her
change as he left with Geoff into the thickening crowd.
“She’s an interesting woman,” Geoff said in his ear as they waited in the crush by the bar
again, and Ben wondered what he meant by that, if they’d actually had a brief intellectual
conversation, or if Geoff was just looking for a polite way to say he liked the look of her, or
even if he thought she seemed a bit of odd match for Ben. When Ben asked him directly if
he thought she was a good catch, Geoff agreed emphatically. “She seems very kind, and has
other lovely features, ahem, lovely qualities too,” he remarked with an anxious laugh, and
with that Ben was sure that his friend had noticed Marcie’s cleavage too.
Ben had a bit of a surprise when they got back with the drinks though, seeing Sofie and
Marcie with two strange lads, leaning their elbows on the small table where they’d put
their own pints of lager. The pair were a bit younger than the four of them, with tight t-
shirts stretched over well-developed muscles, both sporting hairstyles they’d shaved at the
back and sides, and both of them also exhibiting heavily tattooed arms.
The lads beamed friendly smiles to Ben and Geoff as they approached, one raising his hand
in a wave with a cigarette clamped between his fingers. Marcie grabbed Ben’s hand as he
put their drinks down, leaning forwards to shout, “Ben, this is Jack, and this is his friend
Patch. I was just telling him about you.”
Patch stuck his hand out, after swapping his cigarette to his other hand, and Ben shook it,
then slipped into the grip and fist bump that Ben was familiar with from meeting strangers
at raves. He noticed Patch was considerably shorter than he was, but very broad-
shouldered. The young man bumped his friend on the arm, and Jack turned briefly from
Geoff and Sofie to grip Ben’s hand and bump fists in the same way.
Ben and Marcie fell into a slightly voice-straining conversation with Patch. It turned out he
and Jack were out from South Shields for the night, and that both of them worked as
scaffolders. He seemed interested that Ben was a tree surgeon, but when Ben asked him
about harnesses and rope safety on scaffolding, he got the impression that Patch was
reluctant to talk about it, perhaps because he knew that he took risks.
He seemed genuinely sympathetic to hear that Ben had got his lungs shot by the work
though. He seemed quite open to sharing with Ben and Marcie as he told them about his
grandad’s emphysema. He explained that his mother’s family had moved away from
County Durham when his grandad had got ill, and that was why they were by the coast now.
It sounded as if the National Coal Board had been quite generous with their compensation,
but Patch remembered the toll it had taken on his grandad in his last years. Perhaps he
realised his words may have depressed Ben a little as he tried to reassure both him and
Marcie that things were different now, and they were still young. He made a wild guess at
their ages, giving them both nearly ten more years. When Marcie corrected him, he
apologised with embarrassment, but they all laughed about it.
Then Patch suggested he get vodka shots for all of them. Ben and Marcie both tried to
persuade him that wasn’t necessary, but he absolutely insisted on it once he’d got a hold of
the idea. He grabbed Jack for a brief conflab, Jack explaining the plan to Geoff and Sofie too.
It seemed the three of them had also been getting on well. Ben’s friends went through the
same routine of politely declining the offered round, but Patch seemed to have had enough
and dragged Jack away toward the bar.
The four of them leant their heads together to find out what each other thought of the two
boys. They all agreed they seemed friendly enough. Sofie wondered aloud if they had more
tattoos, and whether they’d let her and Marcie see them, making Marcie snigger. Geoff
wondered if they’d even come back at all, or if they’d find someone more interesting to
make friends with, maybe working their way into a group of girls their own age. But he was
proved wrong as they saw Patch coming back, leading the way for Jack, who was carrying a
small tray with six shot glasses on.
He put it down on the table, then he and Patch started arguing in a good-natured way about
the flavours, trying to sort out who wanted what. Marcie ended up with watermelon, whilst
Ben got what might have been cherry. They tried to raise their glasses together to say
cheers, then Ben knocked his back in one, though others just took sips.
Sofie seemed to already be asking the boys about their tattoos though, pointing and then
touching their arms flirtatiously as they took turns to push up their sleeves and display
their artwork. They proudly showed them off to Geoff and Ben as well as the girls, and Ben
admired Jack’s snaking dragon and Patch’s wolf’s head. This genuinely seemed to be good
work, the artist having done well with the latter’s piercing eyes and detailed surrounding
scrollwork. Then he heard Sofie shriek as Jack pulled up his t-shirt to reveal another huge
dragon coiling across his very well-defined abs and pectoral muscles. Perhaps not wanting
to be outdone, Patch pulled up his own t-shirt to show a scene of running horses that
stretched right across his back. He twisted his head over his shoulder toward Marcie,
saying she could touch them if she wanted, and to Ben’s slight surprise, she did, just laying
her fingertips on one of Patch’s shoulder blades.
Sofie wanted to see too, then, having got her way, she seemed to help them all calm down a
little. But then she called out loudly to the whole group that they should get one more
round of shots before moving on somewhere else. Ben glanced at Marcie, and she
confirmed what was on her mind with a tiny shake of her head. So he leant forwards to
Geoff and Sofie to explain that he and Marcie ought to be getting home really.
Sofie grabbed his hand to shout, “I understand, you want an early night. I remember how it
is when you have just started. Well, you stay for one more quickly. We all go to the bar
together and toast the new couple.”
Patch must have overheard, despite the noise, as he asked Ben what she meant. He
explained that he and Marcie had just moved in together, and Patch immediately
congratulated him. He said they’d have to raise a glass to that. He tugged on Jack’s arm,
presumably to pass the news on, then he turned back to Ben and Marcie. He admitted that
he’d assumed they’d been together for years, the way they were with each other, so
trusting and so close. He said it was like they knew each other’s thoughts, and Ben thanked
him for saying that, genuinely gratified.
Ben found himself following the group as Sofie led the way to the bar. While they shuffled
through the crowd, Patch drew him close to say something else just to Ben. “Are ye sure
yous cannot stay?” he asked, “Four and two works better than three and one.” Ben smiled
as he politely declined, thanking him. He assured Patch that he and Jack would find plenty
of other company if they moved onto a nightclub with Geoff and Sofie, deliberately avoiding
the possible hint that the lads may have been looking for something more intimate.
Sofie had managed to get a line of shot glasses served up on the bar for them already. As
they pushed through the scrum to each pick up a glass, she called out in a loud voice, “To
the happy couple!” She raised her glass as Ben drew Marcie to him, feeling deeply satisfied
as she cuddled up against him, both raising their own glass in acknowledgement. He heard
a stranger behind him ask if they’d just got married, then Patch shouted back, “Nah,
they’ve moved in together.”
Seemed to satisfy the unseen voice, which called out “Nice work!” as Ben felt a firm pat on
his back. Ben was aware of a few other cheers and shouts of congratulations from the press
of bodies as he and Marcie both drained their glasses of citrus-flavoured vodka. Then, as
they pulled away from the bar with the others, things seemed to go very quickly back to
normal as people returned to the urgent business of trying to get served or get their drinks
away from the bar to their mates.
Ben still felt quite elated as they pushed themselves out into the cool night air, gripping
Marcie’s hand firmly. He saw she was grinning too as he risked a small peck on her lips.
Though it had hardly been a marriage ceremony, it had felt as if Sofie had helped them
through a rite of passage, publicly declaring their commitment to their new relationship in
front of witnesses.
Sofie was rubbing her arms as she stood with Geoff and the two lads in the milling babel
outside the bar. “We’ll make another date soon, right?” she asked with a kind of sincere
longing. Marcie assured her that they would, then the two of them were kissing each
other’s cheeks, clasping each other’s arms firmly. Then Marcie seemed to work down the
line, quickly repeating the farewell with each of the three lads. Ben went to give Sofie a
peck on the cheek, but she reached up to give him a big hug, saying into his ear, “Well
done,” as Ben awkwardly put his arms around her skinny frame to pat her bare shoulder
with his big hand, before she let him go. Geoff gave Ben a quick hug too, thanking him for
suggesting the night out and saying they’d talk soon. Then Ben just waved to Patch and Jack
as Marcie pulled him towards Monument Station, leaving them to scan the bars and clubs,
finding a way to carry on their own night’s adventures.
Ben asked if Marcie wanted to get a taxi back, but she declined. “Are you in such a rush?”
she asked with a cheeky twinkle as she gripped his hand and leant in close. Ben was pretty
sure what she had in mind when she added, “I think we can wait long enough if we take the
Metro, if we keep our legs crossed.”
Ben chuckled along with her, then asked, “Anyway, did you enjoy the evening? Did you
enjoy meeting Geoff and Sofie? You seemed to get on okay, with Sofie I mean.”
“I got on okay with everyone, I think, didn’t I?” Marcie replied, still smiling as if she were
pleased with herself, then a frown crossed her brow as she remembered, “Except Jo, I
guess.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea she’d be there,” Ben said earnestly as they walked.
“Well, I got a good look at her at least,” Marcie said, gripping his hand firmly, “She fitted my
mental picture of your past conquests pretty well - tall, blonde, legs like a model’s,
complete with showgirl nails and makeup, hair cascading down over her flawless skin,
perky boobs boosted up under an insubstantial dress, if you’d even call it that. And a
jealous little minx too, if I’m any judge.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said again.
“Don’t be!” Marcie insisted, pausing in the street to turn towards him, gripping both his
hands, “You’re not responsible for her behaviour. Unless you two were playing games. You
weren’t flirting and dallying with her, were you? You’re not keeping your finger in another
pie, just in case?”
“No!” Ben said urgently, “Absolutely not, I’ve no regrets, not a moment’s doubt. We’re
honest, you and I, right? And honestly, I’m so happy with you, so happy to have come out,
telling folk we’re living together now. We’re a couple, a proper couple, not like it was with
Jo, or others like her from before. She didn’t cover herself in glory either, I didn’t think.
Like you say, she did seem jealous and spiteful, not kind and generous. She could have been
happy for us.”
“She came back over, just briefly, when you and Geoff went to the bar, just before Jack and
Parch turned up,” Marcie admitted, dropping her eyes, “Did you know?”
“No, I didn’t know. What did she say? Was she mean to you? Were you okay?” Ben asked
anxiously.
“I was fine, and Sofie had my back,” she said thoughtfully, stopping in a doorway to pull
him in for a cuddle, wrapping her arms around his waist before going on, “I maybe
shouldn’t say, but to the Devil with it! She was trying to be all friendly, like we were girls
together who could share our secrets and have a giggle, but it was a pretty shallow
pretence. Then she said, ‘Has he tried putting it in behind yet?’ I pretended that I was
vague about what she meant, so she went on, ‘I think Ben likes to imagine he’s doing it to a
boy. He was always trying to turn me over to slip his wiener up my back passage.’”
Ben felt shocked as he looked down at Marcie, but she’d raised her eyes with a cheekily
expectant smile. He said, “Well, you know that’s bollocks, right? After what we said, with
our questions and answers, about being sure I’m straight, and what you said too, well,
about that not being a place for a penis. I know it’s nice to make spoons, you know, lying
together in bed, but that’s not what’s on my mind at all.”
Marcie was still quietly smiling up at him inquisitively, her thick eyebrows arched as she
waited expectantly with that cheeky twinkle in her eyes. He felt he knew her well enough
now to infer that she wanted some more saucy details from his wayward past. So he took a
deep breath, then blew it out, before admitting with some embarrassment and twinges of
shame, “Alright, I confess, I did put it up there with her, if you want to know. She said she
wanted to go for the triple one night, our first night actually. Do you really want to hear this?
Well, we were a bit drunk, and she’d already put me in her mouth, just briefly, like she was
forcing herself to do it, to an extreme, trying to swallow me, even making herself gag a bit, if
I remember it right. Then we were doing it, you know, penetrative sex, just like normal I
guess, missionary position, so I already had a condom on. But then she stopped me, and
asked me if I’d do it for her from behind too. I thought she just meant doggy style, but she
said, ‘No, stuff it right up my arsehole.’ So I did. Erm, she had a toy too, a dildo, with lube
for it, so she used that at the same time, to put up her vagina I mean, lubing me up too. But
it was just the once. I didn’t ask her again, to go that way around, up her back passage, you
know?”
“I know, I get the picture Ben. And thank you for sharing all that,” Marcie said, grinning
widely as she held him close, wriggling against his hips, “I know she was just stirring, trying
to plant some seeds of suspicion in my mind, as if I weren’t already absolutely sure of your
sexual orientation. But you know me too now, how nosy I am. I’m glad you told me that
story. It explains what was behind the malicious rumour she was trying to start, so to speak.
Maybe she also wanted to feel superior about having sex with you in a way that I hadn’t, as
if that meant she still had a claim on something that I’d not usurped. But it’s also just very
interesting for me to hear what you got up to in your past adventures too, even if I’m not at
all sure I’d want us to try that together. Maybe we could play more with your spooning
though, seeing if you can slip inside my cwm rather than my butthole like that,” Marcie
admitted with a shy smile, then she stood on tiptoes to raise her face toward him.
Ben carefully pressed a soft kiss to her lips as her words replaced his anxiety with eager
anticipation, their tongues just slipping over each other. Then she rocked back down,
grinning now as she added, “Anyway it sounds to me like the backdoor stuff was more Jo’s
thing than yours, wanting anal sex as well as everything else. Perhaps it made her feel like
she’d really taken you, to an extreme, as you said, or maybe she was trying to play out her
own shady unspoken fantasies. Well, we can forget about her for now, but maybe sometime
when we’re on our own together I’ll get you to tell me more about these risqué encounters
and how they felt. "
“Aye, well, I could try to remember more, if you want,” Ben said sceptically as they started
walking again, hand in hand, “But it’s not all that clear, to be honest. Like I said, we’d had a
quite bit to drink that night.”
“Hmm, I think I can imagine,” Marcie said happily, “I drank a bit more than I was expecting
tonight too. What’s in those alcopops, in terms of alcohol units, do you know?”
“I think they’re like a glass of wine,” Ben tried to reassure her, feeling a bit more at ease
now that they’d moved on from talking about Jo, “So I was getting ahead of you, matching
pints to your little bottles.”
“Ah, but I started thinking things might get a bit messy when we moved onto shots.”
“Aye, well, maybe we bailed out at the right time.”
“Those lads, though!” Marcie exclaimed as they tripped along the street amongst the other
revellers, “They seemed to just appear out of nowhere after Jo had left Sofie and me alone.
Did you lay them on especially? Had you made some secret arrangements you’d not told
me about? Patch was very generous, buying us all a round.”
“No!” Ben denied, “There was no conspiracy. They were the real deal, a genuine pair of
cheeky charvas, turning up out of the blue. They were friendly though, weren’t they? And
generous.”
“You didn’t think I was flirting with them, did you? I think Sofie was worse. And going back
to your original question, I enjoyed meeting her very much thank you, and I feel I got on
with her very well. Did you know she’d made that dress herself? She’s obviously a
resourceful woman. But you didn’t tell me she was from Germany, the old GDR, nor that’s
she’s really called Zofia. We had a little chat about European roots and feeling a bit
different in English society, and a bit of a chat about big strong English boys too. Geoff’s
even taller than you, isn’t he?”
“Aye, probably, a bit,” Ben admitted, “But sorry, I’d forgotten where Sofie was from. I admit,
I might not have even known. You can’t tell from her accent, can you?”
“Oh, maybe, if you’ve got an ear for languages, and a mind that likes to find categories to
put everything into. No, she was lovely. But do you remember why you originally suggested
this evening out?”
Marcie asked this in a lower voice, as they were coming into the station now. “Aye,” he said,
leaning in closer so that she could hear him as he spoke softly too, “You were sceptical, you
doubted you could attract attention, from lads who might want to make a threesome.”
Though it was hardly quiet, Ben guessed she might be right to think people could overhear
them as they stood close together on the escalator and then on the platform. He felt unsure
himself about discussing this here, despite his earlier confession on the street about what
he’d done with Jo.
But Marcie didn’t seem to mind talking about their private plans in her clever round-about
way, as she said, “Yes, that’s right. And did you think our little experimental trial gave
positive indications to your hypothesis that I could attract that kind of attention?”
“Aye, I reckon so,” smiling at her deliberately pretentious language, “Patch didn’t say it
directly, but he did say, what was it? ‘Four and two works better than three and one.’”
“Yes, he said something to me too, just to test the waters I think. Let’s see if I can remember
how he said it, ‘Ye man’s a canny lad. Does he mind sharing, like?’”
Ben was impressed at Marcie’s imitation of the accent, but also a little shocked. As their
train arrived and they got in, still standing, he asked quietly and urgently, “And what did
you say?”
“I played a bit dumb, pretending that I thought he was talking about money or something. I
said that it was very sad, but as you might have to stop work, you’d have less to share now.
I told him that he should ask you himself, though, so perhaps that’s why he dropped that
hint to you.”
Ben straightened up to blow his breath out in a kind of sigh, of both relief and surprise,
then asked Marcie, “But you were okay? You didn’t feel threatened? And we’re okay too,
right? You weren’t tempted to jump ship?”
“It’s all okay, Ben,” she said calmly, laying a reassuring hand on his chest, “I proved to
myself that you were right, and I felt safe while I was at it, with people all around. But I
would never have let it get too far. There’s no risk I’ll be ‘at it’ with anyone else in that
sense. I know where my heart is. That’s safe too, fixed firmly on you, and only you. And
that’s just where Vixen wants to be fixed too.
Ben felt his warmth for her in both his heart and his loins as he pecked her dark lips again,
even as she smirked at their shared secret code.
Then the train pulled into West Jesmond, and they stepped out onto the quiet platform and
chilly air, striking out briskly for the sanctuary of Marcie’s flat.
“What do think they’re up to now, the four of them? Would Sofie really let all three boys get
frisky with her?” Ben asked.
“Oh, I think our cheeky chappies will find a more suitable group to ease their muscly, inked
and testosterone saturated shoulders into. Maybe that’s why they’d followed Jo over
originally. But I saw plenty of other gangs of women out and about who I’m sure they’d
have more luck with. Geoff and Sofie seemed like a solid couple, despite her playfulness.”
“Aye, that playfulness,” Ben said idly, prompting Marcie to ask what he meant. He
explained, “I’m sure it’s nothing, it just came to mind because of the other thing, what your
experiment was about. But Sofie invited us for dinner, and she said we should sleep over.
I’ve slept over at their flat before, stopping on the sofa-bed, right next to their bedroom.
Well, we’d probably all had a bit much to drink that time too, more than tonight, maybe
making their inhibitions lower.”
“What are trying to tell me, Ben? Is it another of your guilty secrets?” Marcie asked,
sounding intrigued but a little concerned.
“Well, I heard them. I heard them having sex. I guess they knew that maybe I could, and
maybe they wanted me to. Maybe they were being exhibitionists, a bit like us, but
deliberately.”
“So you’re thinking Sofie invited us around to have a bit of a party and then stay over so we
could have a kind of cosy foursome, maybe just making love to our own other halves
faithfully, but in a way that we could all share?”
“Aye, I guess, maybe I thought something like that,” Ben admitted as they turned into
Marcie’s road.
“And what would you say if it did turn out that’s what was on their programme for after-
dinner entertainment? Would you agree to go through with it, with me, maybe with Geoff
and Sofie too?”
“No,” Ben automatically answered, then after a moment’s honest self-appraisal, admitted,
“Maybe. Just with you, mind. I don’t know. What do you think?”
They’d reached Marcie’s front door now. As she used her keys, she smiled cheekily back at
him. “No, maybe, just with you, I don’t know,” she repeated by way of answer, smirking. “I
guess we’ll just have to make the call on the spot if it comes down to it, maybe just letting
our impulses go with the flow. It’s more likely Sofie’s invitation was completely innocent,
and they were just being careless when you heard them. But I do know what I want now!”
Chapter 21
They’d got inside the hallway, Marcie locking the door behind them, and Ben had already
slipped his shoes off. As he straightened up, he saw the twinkle in Marcie’s eyes as she
made that last statement, and he figured that he knew what she was thinking. He went to
put his hands on her waist, but she threw her arms around his neck, jangling her bracelets
beside his ear as she pulled him towards her lips. Ben let his hands go to the big round
cushions of her buttocks, scrunching the soft warm cotton of her loose dress to dig his
fingertips into her yielding booty. But they were already kissing hungrily, Marcie forcing
her tongue deep into Ben’s mouth, which he encouraged by sucking, making brief
raspberry noises as their lips slipped against each other. Her fingers were clinging to his
scalp through his hair, while she seemed to be deliberately pushing her chest against his.
Ben could feel an immediate response in his loins, from Roddie, despite the numbing fug of
alcohol in his system.
But suddenly Marcie pulled back, letting Ben see that he’d already smeared her lipstick as
he relaxed his grip. “Oh, we reek!” she wailed, “I’d forgotten how smoky pubs and clubs can
get. I’m going to have to shower and wash my hair again too before we get into your lovely
clean sheets. And your poor lungs! Are they okay after breathing all that in?”
Ben took some deep and slow breaths while Marcie cradled his chin in her hands, looking
up with concern, as he rested his hands on her hips again. He realised there was a bit of a
dragging rasp there, right at the extremes, but he judged, “I think it’s okay. Maybe we need
smoke free pubs now, though. There are more these days, aren’t there?”
“Yes,” Marcie agreed, but sighed as she rubbed his cheek, “Oh, why does always end up
being so practical? We can leave all that until tomorrow. Come with me to the bathroom
where we can both have a shower. You can help me to undress, if you like.” As she led him
by the hand through the shadowy living room, she saw the laundry and added, “Oh, and we
can definitely leave all that too, just drop the blind if you would while I pop the lamp on?”
Ben let go of her hand to comply, guiding the blind down behind the houseplants. Marcie
had already left for the bathroom when Ben turned around, then as he began following her,
he thought to drop the kitchen blind too, just as they should have done earlier. He could
hear the flow of Marcie passing water, but seeing the door ajar, he went in anyway.
She smiled to see him, sat on the toilet with her legs bare. He saw she’d gathered the skirt
of her dress up around her waist, and he saw the sky-blue puddle of silky material that was
her knickers, fallen around the ankles of her boots. “I was being cheeky when I said I
needed to keep my legs crossed on the Metro, thinking of what I’d let you do up there with
Vixen, but I really did need a wee too.” She must have seen where his eyes had glanced
though, as she added, “I was going to leave them off now, but maybe I’ve disappointed you.
You might have liked to take them off for me, and I said I’d let you see me in them. Sorry.
Do you want to take them off from there?” she asked, sticking her feet out now that her
flow had stopped.
Ben gladly fell to one knee before her, carefully lifting them over her boots. Then he risked
acting out his impulse, maybe incautiously, under the influence of the night’s drinking. He
brought Marcie’s knickers to his face and inhaled dramatically through his flared nostrils
as he threw his head back. He was joking around for Marcie, but he enjoyed the sensations
too, of the warm satin on his nose and lips, and of the smells, Marcie’s intimate musky scent
clear over the lingering perfume of fresh laundry.
“Ben!” Marcie said in shock, even as she laughed, “I can’t believe you did that! You’re a
very naughty boy!”
“Only sometimes, and just for you,” Ben admitted, grinning, tossing the blue bundle of cloth
towards the laundry basket. Then he asked, “Shall I unlace your boots, Ma’am, while you’re
sat there?”
“Why yes, my good man, you may,” Marcie replied, giggling as she put on an exaggerated
accent, pointing out the toe of one foot.
Ben knelt down properly, sitting on his heels, putting up with the slightly painful pressure
of the hard bathroom floor on his knees. He placed one hand behind her calf, on her bare
skin at the edge of the soft leather, lifting her boot to place its sole flat on his thigh. Then he
began to diligently untie the knot and unthread the lace with the clumsy fingertips of both
hands. For some reason, an old fashioned song came to his mind. Again, feeling incautious
against what might have been his more sober judgement, he began to sing, probably off-key,
in a quiet gruff tone, “Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly
dilly, you shall be queen.”
Marcie immediately picked up the tune, carrying on with words that Ben didn’t even know,
her high voice cautiously wavering, “Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. You
must love me, dilly dilly, ‘cause I love you.”
Ben had loosened her boot enough to ease it off now, quickly peeling off the thin and
slightly damp sock that he’d discovered she was wearing too. “Thank you,” Marcie said as
she wriggled her toes, Ben guessed for the song as well as the boot removal, “That was
lovely. Where did that come from?” she asked as she carelessly raised her other boot.
“I don’t know,” Ben honestly answered, “It just seemed old fashioned, like your boots, but
in a nice way, I mean. Maybe that talk of Narnia, Aslan the king with his magic winter queen,
bowing to honour his lady, maybe that triggered something too.”
“Maybe your mum used to sing it to you. Oh, I’m sorry! My mouth just runs away before I
can stop it.”
“No, it’s okay,” Ben reassured her, still enjoying the moment despite the strange thought.
“To be honest, maybe she did, perhaps way back when I needed help to dress myself. We’re
still the children we were though, inside, aren’t we? Even if we’re doing naughty grown-up
things now. Maybe she is here with us, in some way, in my memory. If so, I bet she’d be
happy to know I’m happy, right here. And I liked your words too, if they were new, or a
part I didn’t know.”
“Oh Ben, I’m glad you’re happy, and my words were true,” Marcie sighed, “I do love you.”
After a pause, she went on, “Hmm, but yes, you’re so right. We are still the children we used
to be, deep inside. You can still play with Lucy in Narnia, and a part of me can still be that
giggling teenager, shocked and intrigued by what grown-ups actually do with those private
bits beneath their underwear. Speaking of which, am I going to show you mine, and then
you can show me yours?”
Ben had got her other boot and sock off, and now she’d risen to stand on her bare feet
before him, letting the skirts of her dress fall below her knees again, almost brushing his
face. He shuffled back a little on his painful knees, rising to kneel so that his face was level
with her chest, ready to bury his nose into her cleavage as his hands rose to her hips.
But she was already turning, putting her back to him. He guessed that this was to let him
see her dress’s zip, which he began to tug down confidently. When it was all the way down,
in the small of her back where the flared skirt’s pleats were gathered, he reached up to slip
his hands under the soft cotton to brush her skin and push the fabric over her shoulders.
He saw the thick straps of her bra exposed, their pale blue vivid against her tan skin.
Marcie made a kind of self-satisfied noise as she shucked the dress down her arms,
gathering its folds around her hips as she turned to face him again. She smiled down at him
as he raised his eyes from the satin orbs of her breasts which she’d brought to face him,
then she finally let the fabric pilled around her waist fall to the floor. Ben’s eyes dropped
again to see the dark bushy triangle of her vulva, of Vixen, tucked under the pubic mound at
the base of her well-toned stomach. He felt warmed by the sight, but he could not resist his
gaze from returning to her chest, taking in the bulging mass of her breasts under the seams
and stitching of her bra. He thought of the celestial association to its colour as he
reverentially raised his hand to brush one warm hillock, feeling it yield softly under his
fingertips.
Marcie had raised her hands to cradle the back of his head, and now she drew a slow breath
through her teeth, as if relishing his touch. He brushed down again, then back and forth,
with his fingertips and nails, imagining that he was stroking her nipple. And sure enough,
he detected a solid bump beneath the thin silky fabric, perhaps rising to his stimulation.
“Take it off, now,” Marcie whispered, as if issuing an urgent order.
Trembling a little on his aching knees, already aroused beneath his own clothes, he reached
around Marcie’s ribcage with both hands. He found her bra’s catch easily, and managed to
unhook it without too much difficulty. Marcie slipped the straps over her shoulders herself,
and then the satin cups were falling away from her breasts. Ben drew the bra down and
away as he gazed with reverential awe at her chest.
Her breasts hung heavily under their soft mass, making long sweeping curves from the
deepening gap between them, under the folded crease beneath them, then sweeping back
up over her ribs all the way towards her armpits. Her skin was paler across them, still
marked by the red pressure lines left by the hem of her bra. It seemed stretched thin too,
thin enough to reveal the subtle tracery of veins beneath, especially across their lowest
pendulous crescents, yet a few melanin spots were scattered even here. But Ben’s eyes
naturally focused on her dusky pink areolae, their softly crinkled skin like silk itself,
distorted slightly from perfect circles to stretched ovals by the full grown volume of
Marcie’s development. He could see small bumps on them, dotted around the much larger
and enticing bumps of her nipples at their centre.
He leant forwards to gently press his lips to one, his mouth parted, then felt for her nipple
with the tip of his tongue. Finding it, he licked around its slightly upright edge with a
circular motion, noticing how much bigger it seemed in his mouth, and then gently sucked.
He felt it rising from the creases around its base, entering his mouth between his firm lips,
touching his tongue as he still delicately played it around her teat.
Marcie had been gripping his head, holding him to her as he knelt before her. Now she
pulled his head back, making her bangles jangle softly beside his ear. “Oh Ben, I do feel
deliciously naughty. But you’re still dressed. That’s not the deal. Come on, stand up. You’ve
got to show me yours too.”
Ben complied, letting Marcie help him up, making a bit of a show of it as he straightened his
genuinely sore knees. Then she unbuttoned his shirt, naked in his arms as he loosely rested
his hands on the smooth warm skin of her waist. When she’d undone the last button, she
flattened her palms against his chest, running them over his collarbones then down over
his own nipples as Ben did the real work of pulling his shirt off, pulling the sleeves over his
hands at his back.
Marcie was idly tracing her fingertips over the Maltese cross on his chest whilst her other
hand was already low on his belly. Down there, she idly rubbed the thin fur below his
bellybutton, her fingers slipping under his belt, almost into his thicker pubic hair and
therefore, Ben was aware, almost touching his awkwardly tangled erection. “I’ve had this
such a long time,” she said dreamily, clearly with reference to the necklace, “I never
imagined I’d be seeing it like this.”
“I’ll keep it safe,” Ben promised her, gently resting his hands on her bare shoulders.
“Hmm,” Marcie murmured, “It’s almost like they’re here, isn’t it? My Nanna, your mum. It
feels as if they’re smiling on us, as if we have their blessing. Oh, I’m sorry! Do I spoil the
mood with my inane and inappropriate chatter?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her tight
against him. He felt the wonderful touch of her soft breasts pressing against his stomach as
she wrapped her arms around his waist, saying, “You’re talking about our female ancestors,
the women we owe our existence to. They knew sex, or we wouldn’t be here. Perhaps they
know when things are right, even if they’re just in our memories now. Perhaps they’re like
our conscience, the small inner voice, still guiding us. And it does feel right, doesn’t it? And
it’s not just Roddie’s voice, urging things on, honestly.”
Marcie laughed, leaning her head back to look into Ben’s eyes, before he leant down to kiss
her lips tenderly. “Thank you. You come up with such wise thoughts,” she said, resting her
head against his chest as he straightened up, cuddling her warm soft skin tight against him
again. She sighed, then added with a cheekier smirking tone, “But I still think can hear
Roddie’s voice speaking too. Come on, let’s get him out to check!”
Ben stepped back and slipped his hands to the back of Marcie’s neck as she worked
deliberately now to undo his jean’s belt buckle and buttons. Ben was aware that with the
time passing since he’d first felt his passion rising for Marcie in the hallway, and since his
exquisite experience at her breast especially, his sometimes stiff erection had now softened.
Perhaps the alcohol was taking its toll too, though he still felt confident that Roddie would
rise to the occasion when needed. In any case, Marcie seemed unconcerned as she opened
his belt, unbuttoned his flies, and then pushed his jeans and boxer shorts down together
over his hips.
Ben’s long penis was exposed, and Marcie seemed to watch it as Ben hopped out of his
jeans, holding her on each elbow for balance. Even though he was soft, his shaft was thick,
and his head, currently flushed to a deep crimson, had escaped his foreskin at some point.
Marcie raised it carefully in one hand as she wrapped her other arm around Ben’s hip,
guiding him towards her so that his manhood was upright against her stomach, just below
the deep crease between her breasts. Then she held him tight to her once more, palms flat
across his shoulders, sighing contentedly as she leaned her head against his collarbone
once more.
Ben could again feel the soft cushions of her breasts pressing against the bare skin of his
abdomen, but now he could feel the warmth of Marcie’s skin against his penis too. As they
held each other restfully, Ben gently stroking Marcie’s neck and shoulders with one hand
whilst the other was clasped firmly against the small of her back, he grew firm again
against her.
“Ooh, I’d like you to rub him there,” Marcie murmured, obviously feeling the movement
herself. She leant back to smile up at Ben as she went on, still pressing her abdomen against
his, “I’d like you to push his cheeky little head against my boob, just like you tried when I
was still in my nightie. But we know where that ends, with a sudden creamy squirt, and I
want you to save yourself for that until you can put a johnny on and get him up inside me
again. Does that sound good?” Of course Ben agreed, so she wriggled against him and said,
“Then let go of me, and I’ll get into that shower!”
Marcie twisted away from him, took her glasses and bangles off, then stepped into the bath
to start the shower. “Sit down on the loo and watch, if you want,” she told him. Ben hadn’t
realised how heavily he’d been breathing until he put the toilet lid down and took the
weight off his feet, but he deliberately calmed down as he sat, knees apart, his erection
already softening again. Suddenly aware of other urges, he murmured an apology, rose
again and quickly raised the seat before sitting back down to pass water through his
softened yet still turgid member. Marcie seemed unconcerned as his copious urine flowed
noisily, starting her shower in an industrious way, running the water all over her body,
then soaking her hair.
He’d finished and was back on the closed toilet seat lid by the time that she was rubbing
the shampoo that she’d grabbed into a thick foam. Then she was rinsing it out, lifting her
elbows high to massage her fingertips into her scalp, an action that raised her breasts and
made them swing hypnotically. Ben watched the soapy suds running down over her glossy
skin, making quickly shifting rivulets as the water found runnels over her shoulders,
around her breasts, across her stomach, through her pubic hair and down her legs.
Marcie’s wet hair clung to her face and neck now as she blearily looked towards him.
“Should I be making more of a show of this?” she asked, reaching for the scrunchy mesh
ball of her spongey shower puff and the bottle of shower gel. Ben watched her breasts jiggle
as she shook the bottle vigorously, trying to get the last drops out, unsure of how to answer.
But then she began rubbing it over her body in a purposefully lewd way, working the puff
in her hands to make a rich lather.
Ben watched as she performed, wriggling her hips, pouting her lips towards him, squeezing
the sponge across her chest. She cupped her free hand under one breast, raising it towards
him, trying to make the foam run over her nipple. At some level, Ben did indeed enjoy the
show, seeing the play of soap and Marcie’s own fingertips over that thin skin of her breast,
now deliciously slick under the running water. But at another level he felt embarrassed and
guilty, as Marcie played up to those stereotypes of the exotic dancers that they’d spoken of
earlier. Ben recognised that indeed he had been looking for just such thrills when he
undressed Marcie earlier. That fitted him to the stereotypes for men who sought out such
performances, confirming Marcie’s tacit assumptions about how they made objects of the
women they looked at. And even worse, he recognised that the way Marcie now held her
breast towards him was almost exactly as he’d imagined Shona doing that morning. A part
of him had also got a lecherous thrill from seeing that accidental display then, so it felt like
a betrayal to consciously enjoy such titillation now.
But Marcie had suddenly stopped, wailing, “Oh, they’re so ridiculous, aren’t they? What are
they, really? A pair of fatty lumps, hanging off me all the time, for what? Maybe to be useful
for six months of my life, to suckle my child? And these pointy bumps with their big
stretched stains, areolae, whatever, just there to be ashamed about, to keep hidden. It’s all
an untidy mess. Like these bits of hair too, under here,” she said, lifting her one arm and
twisting towards Ben to rub her wet hand over one shadowy armpit, raising the glossy
rounded breast that she’d been criticising, “and down here,” she added, grabbing her vulva,
“It’s a great big mess of bushy hair sprawling across me, and a smelly bleeding pit of
rubbery flesh with those stupid baggy lips. And my huge bum and these heavy, muscled
thighs too, strong enough to crush your head,” she added as an afterthought, slapping each
of them for emphasis, “It’s a freak show, the whole thing, a botched mess of flesh and
animal bits.”
“Marcie, don’t say all that,” Ben urged as her diatribe ran down, rising and stepping
towards her to perch himself on the edge of the bath, letting the shower’s spray mist his
bare skin. “I like it all. You’re beautiful, your body is magical. All those things, they’re
feminine, they’re sexy, they’re attractive to me, right to my core. Maybe your shape is like
an hourglass, swelling out at your bust and your hips,” he added cautiously, raising a hand
to stroke those glistening curves from her waist to her thigh, “But that’s the essence of
womanliness, the ideal form that’s driven men wild since time began, that’s made us adore
you. You’re a woman, Marcie, and you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she responded, standing still under the hammering water, now stroking his
ear with her wet fingers as she smiled sadly down at him.
“Just be grateful you’ve not got one of these,” he said, parting his legs to hold his scrotum,
making his softly swollen member bob about, “A weird little sack, for a pair of painfully
vulnerable stones. And this wonky pipe too,” he added, gripping his shaft to wave its head
around, “It’s all pretty gross.”
She giggled, “You’re right. Not that yours are gross I mean, just that all our bits are a bit
weird and funny looking from some points of view. It’s the drink talking too. It’s like my
thoughts are an overloaded shopping trolley with a dodgy wheel, pulling me off where I
don’t want to go. The half-empty glass, the inner critic, says I’m dumpy, lumpy, maybe even
fat. The half-full balancing thought says I’m physically fit and, yes, maybe a bit appealing to
some men. Nature is weird, isn’t it? Bodies are a bit disgusting. Sex is a strange thing to do.
But I like your little Roddie, or very big and long Roddie I should say, not that I’m much of
an expert on these things. I like his jolly, bright head when he’s standing up, and I like the
heft of his meaty weight in my hand.” Marcie was moving out of the shower’s flow now,
urging Ben to his feet. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s swap around. You get nice and clean for
bed now too, then we can tuck Roddie up with Vixen, where she wants him to be, as freaky
nature intended.”
Ben eagerly agreed, holding Marcie’s elbow as she stepped out of the shower, then getting
in himself. He saw Marcie reclaim her glasses, quickly rub herself down with her towel,
then wrap it around herself as he started washing, making his own shower gel lather just
with his hands as he usually did. Then she said that she was just going to get her hair things,
but she’d come back to keep him company.
Ben had already finished, even giving his own hair a quick wash too, by the time she got
back. She sat on the toilet seat to brush her wet hair and then dextrously weave it into her
nighttime plait. As Ben finished towelling himself off and hung his towel up, she explained
that it would go extra crinkly for being still wet when she went to bed, but she really didn’t
care. Ben remembered his brown inhaler, taking an awkward puff whilst reflecting that this
was now part of his morning and evening routine, then began brushing his teeth, smiling in
a foolish and foamy way at Marcie, who was still diligently braiding her hair. Then, as her
elbows were raised over her head, her towel came loose and fell into her lap, revealing
herself once again as she said, with a little giggle, “Oopsie.” Ben had watched this happen,
of course. He looked up from her round breasts, raised high and proud by her arms’
position, with their big dusky areolae and creased nipples, to meet her smiling eyes, which
were looking bashfully up at him as Marcie’s head tilted forwards.
For some reason he felt a huge surge of affection toward her at this, even whilst her body’s
voluptuousness appealed to his libido at a far baser level. He felt she was sharing
something with him, in the shy exposure of her private body, in a somehow far more
innocent way than she’d shown in the shower. She’d done this accidentally, but she was at
ease with it, despite that self-critical body image that she’d just shared with him. He
somehow felt that she was now demonstrating profound trust and honesty with him as
they got ready for bed, and their shared intimacy, when they got there, would be so much
stronger and more sincere for it.
He quickly finished his teeth, then got back onto his knees before her, just as he had been
earlier. He reached out to respectfully rest his hands on the towel that was still gathered
around her hips as he said, “I love you, Marcie.”
Working fast, Marcie finished her plait and tied it off with a bobble, saying, “Thank you Ben.
I know that now. You could have gone off tonight too. You could have jumped ship, or just
played around with Sofie more, but you didn’t. You came home with me, to our home.”
She leant forwards to kiss him. Ben’s lips were parted, ready to make it deep and
passionate, but she said, “Ooh, your mouth’s so lovely and minty clean. Mine’s still
disgusting!” She sprung to her feet, making her breasts sway just in front of Ben’s face as
her towel dropped to the floor to reveal her bushy Vixen too, but she was shooing him
away, saying, “Let me brush my teeth too. You get some big glasses of water to take to the
bedroom. We might need rehydrating in the night. Ooh, and would you like to light a joss
stick in there, if you think we might have a romantic moment before we go to sleep?”
Chapter 22
Ben lit a joss stick to take through to the bedroom with the glasses that he had filled in the
kitchen. He felt unconcerned by his nudity as he realised that Marcie had already closed the
curtains through there, perhaps when she’d collected the things for her hair. He put their
bedtime water down on the crowded bedside tables, carefully placing the incense holder
there too, then briefly looked at the clean sheets on the bed, before deciding to fold down
the duvet, eagerly anticipating what may be about to happen with Marcie there. Then he
made his way back to the bathroom.
Marcie was already on her way out of there though, wrapped in her towel once again,
turning off the lights as she came through the flat. She took his hand in hers as they
intercepted each other in the living room, then she led him to the bedroom, in near
darkness as she clicked off the last lamp. Ben was reminded of how she’d taken his hand in
this way just two nights ago, when they’d first given in to their mutual desire. Now it felt
almost as if she were his bride, leading him through the fragrant smoke to the
consummation of which she’d carelessly spoken earlier.
As they got into the bedroom, she turned to him and raised her arms to wrap them around
his neck, perhaps hoping as Ben did that the towel would fall away on its own. When it
didn’t, he wrapped his own hands around her back, leaving space between them as he
stooped down to give her a slow wet kiss, with both their mouths wide open. The towel’s
rolled twist came away easily under his hand, and as it fell to the floor, Ben immediately
became aware of the presence of Marcie’s naked skin so close to his as they continued to
kiss, almost as if her body was radiant.
Then, with a luxuriant groan, Marcie pulled away from him, letting her slipping hands catch
his as she deliberately fell backwards onto the bed. Ben was jerked forwards by her
surprisingly firm grip, realising too late that he’d be unable to stay upright himself. He let
go of Marcie’s hands as he overbalanced, his shin hitting the edge of the bed as he fell
forwards. He collapsed onto one elbow on the mattress, his nose bumping hard against her
shoulder, his belly pinning her hips and thigh beneath him. She exhaled forcefully then
laughed carelessly, remarking, “Oh, you’re heavy!” before giving that sensuous groan again
as Ben wriggled to a less awkward position on top of her, wonderfully aware of the contact
of her skin and pubic hair against his naked torso and elongated penis.
He brought his face to hers, leaning on his elbows, which sank into the mattress below her
armpits, and he felt sure that he was matching her uninhibited smile of pleasure. He tried to
kiss her again, but she still seemed playful, just giving him quick pecks with pursed lips as
the dark tied-up waves of her hair framed her dappled forehead, her heavy-lidded eyes
under her glasses, her proud nose and her broad jaw. And then she started wriggling
herself, clearly trying to get higher up the bed, to make herself more comfortable Ben
guessed.
So he pushed himself up to let her move more freely, bearing his weight on his elbows, his
feet still dragging on the floor. But then Marcie was parting her firm legs wide, so that his
own thighs and knees could press into the mattress between hers. Ben’s erection was long
and firm now, and he was urgently aware of how close its unseen head was to her open
vulva, where her pubic hair rubbed against his flat stomach, just above his navel, in a
wonderfully ticklish way. However, he was also aware that as Marcie pushed herself up
onto the pillows, she was also raising her breasts ever closer to his eye level, where his
head hung over her chest. He saw their fluid motion, shaking as she shuffled about on her
back, spreading wide into broad jelly-like pools under gravity’s effect.
As Marcie’s own head reached the top of the bed, resting back on the piled pillows, Ben
moved up only a little higher himself, pushing his pelvis and firm penis just against the
clean sheets now. Then, giving in to his impulse, he took some of the weight off his elbows
to lower his face to Marcie’s soft breast. She giggled a little as he softly brushed it with his
nose, his cheeks and his lips, feeling its silky smoothness, contrasting with the bump of her
nipple and the rumpled texture of the delicate skin around it. He inhaled the clean soapy
fragrance of her warm skin, then let his mouth part over her rising teat.
She sighed as he gently enclosed it with his lips, striving to be as careful as he could in his
reverential gratitude to her for letting him play out his private desires. Then she groaned a
little as he used his tongue to toy with the tip of her nipple, reaching behind his head with
both her hands to grip his hair. Ben realised that she was indeed enjoying his affectionate
attention herself, so he indulged his impulses further, opening his mouth wide, keeping his
lips over his teeth, taking as much of her into his mouth as he could, then sucking hard.
“Ooh, yes, that’s good,” he heard Marcie whisper as he kept sucking, pulling her nipple
firmly into his mouth and vigorously teasing it, rolling around it with his tongue, breathing
hard through his nose, which was buried in the soft cushion of her breast. Letting his
weight bear down on her chest now, his hands were free to firmly stroke the sides of her
torso, his flat palms and outstretched fingers caressing her naked skin from her hips, over
the contours of her waist and ribs, to her damp armpits, then down again.
He broke off for a moment, staring down at the glossy slickness that his saliva had spread
across her breast, across her shady pink areola, now puckered and wrinkled as it
contracted, and over her nipple, erect and standing proud as if in harmony with his own
rigid arousal. He exhaled, wondering if Marcie could feel his breath on her, as he brought
his hand up to gently tease her, his fingertips slipping easily over the hardened tip of her
nipple. Then, still stroking her, cupping her whole breast in his hand to feel its volume, he
let his mouth fall to her other breast to enthusiastically repeat everything he’d just done,
bringing his parted lips gently to her other nipple.
He sucked at her soft flesh, breathing through his nose as it pressed into Marcie’s breast,
whilst her fingers still tangled in his hair, her own breath still passing with sighs of
pleasure. As his lips drew her in and his tongue rhythmically massaged her proud nipple,
he was aware how his mouth may be exactly imitating the actions of a feeding infant. Yet
despite his close encounter with a mother who was genuinely breastfeeding her baby that
morning, he felt at ease and unashamed to be doing this. Perhaps Marcie’s previous
encouraging words had sunk home, or perhaps he was merely still feeling some careless
tipsy confidence from the diverse drinks that he’d consumed earlier. For whatever reason,
it felt right that he should be doing this with Marcie, letting his mouth fill itself with as
much of her feminine body as it could draw in. He was a grown man and Marcie was his
lover; he knew she was most certainly not a nursing mother to himself or anyone else.
Yet in some way she was still graciously feeding him, satisfying a hunger which arose from
deep within him, which only she could assuage. And by this, she was therefore also
stimulating a life-affirming energy within him, that he was expressing physically and
unequivocally by his rigid erection, even if it was buried out of sight for now. Like an infant,
he was blindly following his instinct, sucking at her breast almost mindlessly, unaware in
the moment of anything but her slightly firm teat on his lips and tongue. And in that, also
like the infant, he was also somehow embedded in the natural processes of regeneration
and growth that were at the heart of human existence, the primal process that gave
meaning and purpose to life. He knew intuitively that he was in the most perfect position to
cherish this purpose, to enjoy that celebration of being alive, by being so intimately close to
his loving companion.
These thoughts passed quickly through his mind, prompting him to concentrate on his
awareness of their shared reality right now. Marcie was lying naked on the clean sheets of
the bed that he’d made for them, on her back, her legs apart. He was lying on top of her,
held in her hands, stimulating her slippery nipples with his wet mouth and gentle fingertips,
rigidly aroused and therefore eager to make love to her. They had had a busy day, but night
had fallen and they were at ease now, at their leisure in the private cocoon of Marcie’s
darkened bedroom. More than that, they’d explicitly made a decision that would change
both their lives, declaring it first to each other and then in public to their friends, and
strangers too. They were a couple, and they intended to stay that way, sharing their
unknown future path together. So now this was the time when they could truly make love,
when they could make that natural intimate union, just as they were both evidentially
ready and willing to do.
However, Ben knew there was something else that he wanted to do first, for Marcie, and to
further stimulate his own arousal too. He had kissed her lips and her breasts, and now he
let his mouth drift from her slippery nipple to her sternum, then down her belly, as he
shuffled down the bed on his elbows once again. He planted soft kisses on her skin at the
base of her ribs, on her stomach, then around her bellybutton.
“Oh Ben, are you sure?” he heard Marcie ask as she guessed his intention, his shoulders
now settling between her widely parted thighs as he got his hands under her knees to grasp
her hips, “You don’t have to do that for me.”
He glanced up at her, his mouth almost at her vulva now, to see her peering down at him
over the smooth rise of her stomach and the wide mounds of her breasts with her proud
nipples at their tips. She was a little flushed and pleasantly unfocussed already, he thought,
but her current expression seemed to be a mixture of anxiety and pleading anticipation. His
arousal was only reenforced by seeing her like this, and he felt a deeply committed
sincerity as he simply said, “I really want to do this, Marcie, for us both, together.”
Without waiting for a response, he let his eyes fall to her most intimate place, which was
indeed open before him between her firm thighs. He relished the sight of her wrinkled
inner lips, exposed in the long groove between her cushioning outer lips, nestling within
the cosy bed of her dark curls. He was close enough to see the spot where the creased flesh
made the hood over her clitoris, and further down the deeper crease that was the pursed
mouth of her vagina. Feeling as if he were completing the act of worship that he’d been
inspired to start but had been unable to follow through earlier in the kitchen, and in utmost
personal arousal, he put his mouth’s lips to those inner lips of her vulva.
The yielding skin of her crumpled labia was soft and warm but surprisingly dry, he thought,
whilst he noticed that she was almost free of her private heavy fragrance as he buried his
nose into her pubic hair. He guessed all this may have been because of her effective shower
and subsequent thorough towelling down. But as he let his tongue lick her, using his own
mouth’s lubrication to push a little deeper between the folds of her inner labia, he found
the edge of that hidden tunnel up into her body. As soon as he broke through the light
pressure that held her lips closed, he found a bounteous wellspring of slippery liquid
warmth waiting within, which must have been building up in Marcie’s own arousal.
Using the full extent of his tongue now, he eagerly lapped up from her vagina, smearing his
saliva and her copious sexual juices all the way up her yielding lips toward their apex,
where he strove to find her clitoris under his sensitive touch. Marcie’s hands had moved to
the inner edge of her thighs now, whilst she’d raised her knees, as if she were seeking ways
to make herself more open or to bring herself closer to him, making it easier for him push
more of himself up against her bushy vulva. And he was supremely eager to do this, to bury
his whole being within her, as his achingly hard arousal impelled him to do.
He’d ceased his lapping motion, instead now concentrating on the licking and rolling
motion of his tongue against her clitoris, pressing it wide against her as he burrowed into
those creases at the apex of her lips. With her released fluids, her scent seemed strong in
his nostrils now as he breathed urgently through his nose, pressed hard into her pubic
mound. He was aware that Marcie had started to quietly vocalise her own panting breaths,
making that high rhythmic keening that he’d first heard when they’d made love in the
kitchen, and now he thought that he could hear small wet noises from her vagina too.
Wriggling an arm underneath his chest, he carefully brought one hand from her hip up
under his chin, without interrupting his steady licking strokes. He delicately put two
fingertips against the taught and slippery edge of her vagina, then carefully pushed them up
inside her, exploring the hot elastic space within, trying to find the same spot that he’d
learnt of yesterday. With his fingers hooked, and still moving against the muscular walls
inside her, he thought he found the rougher patch that he could rub against, and then he
focused his concentration on his mouth’s motion.
Marcie’s keening was getting a little louder now, as she made long “aah” sounds with each
heavy out-breath, though they were not as loud, as high pitched or as frantic as they had
been in the kitchen. The sound was muffled though, as she was now clamping his head
firmly between her thighs, but all this only encouraged Ben’s own distant arousal still
further. With his fingers still deep inside her, he sought to enclose the whole area of her
clitoris in his lips, carefully covering his teeth, before sucking steadily and firmly, just as he
had at her breast. He was drawing her soft and baggy flesh into his mouth, and he thought
he had her clitoris at its centre, rolling it around against his tongue as if it were a boiled
sweet.
Suddenly Marcie’s grip on his hair became so firm that it was painful, and she’d opened her
thighs wide again to push herself hard to him, jolting her pelvic bone against his nose and
jaw with an almost violent force. He tried to hold his ground, being the immovable object
that she could push against with as much force as she wished, even as he concentrated on
continuing the steady motions of his mouth and fingertips. Her panting breaths had
become deep grunts now, and he heard her distant voice force out strange words with each
exhalation, “Qaddisa Marija! Omm Alla! Ħu ħsiebi!”
He guessed that Marcie might be reaching her orgasm, and that seemed to be confirmed
when he felt the space inside her vagina spontaneously open up, and then contract, its
slippery muscular walls squeezing his fingers firmly in their spasms. And then he was
suddenly aware of a flood of warm wetness all around his mouth, cheeks and chin as
Marcie let out a longer groan. But then she became frantic above him, urgently saying,
“Stop, stop!” as she forcefully pulled him away from her Vixen by his hair. He raised his
eyes as he withdrew his fingers to see her flushed and sweaty face looking down at him
over her body in a stricken way, “Ħaqq Alla! What have I done? I’ve burst, haven’t I? Oh,
Holy Mary, I’m so sorry!”
Ben could not help himself from smiling in self-satisfaction, as he had clearly given Marcie
that kind of orgasm of which she’d spoken about last night, when her body completely gave
way to its arousal and she involuntarily leaked or squirted whatever it was that came with
female ejaculation. Thinking quickly, he slipped off the bed and picked up the towel from
the floor where it had fallen from Marcie’s body, very briefly wiping it around his mouth
before passing it to her, even as he said, “Don’t worry. It’s fine. No, it’s better than fine. It’s
wonderful. I feel honoured and blessed by it, by your wet coming, to be so close to you,
when you’re abandoned to ecstasy, I guess.”
“Oh yes, it was ecstasy,” Marcie reassured him as her panted breaths slowed. Wiping her
vulva and thighs, reaching under her buttocks with the towel as well to rub the sheet in a
vaguely ineffective way, she went on, “Holy Mary, I was blown away, I was lost in my own
private world of bliss, and you’d taken me there. Thank you Ben. You’ve left me breathless,
tingling!”
“Don’t thank me,” Ben urged, wriggling up the bed to cuddle against her, pushing his hand
down to rest it against her warm damp Vixen, encouraging her hand to hold his as she
released the towel, “I said I wanted to find a secret world, a Narnia fairyland, inside you. I
wanted to push through your fur coats, through your secret wardrobe, to find somewhere
magical, filled with hope. And what you just said, it proves you’re already there, in a
‘private world of bliss’. Also, it really turned me on too, look!”
He dropped her hand to hold up his penis, long and still reassuringly firm, letting it fall back
to lie across her thigh. He’d noticed a creamy smear across its glossy red head, realising
that he’d leaked a little himself without noticing, graphically demonstrating how close he’d
been to his own orgasm. Marcie had obviously seen this too, as she asked, “Oh, did you
come too? Was I stroking you with my foot like I did last night? I didn’t even notice.”
“No, I wasn’t rubbing it against anything, and I didn’t come. Look, I’m still solid,” he said,
demonstrating his arousal by holding his shaft low down, showing off as he admired the full
bowed length or his erection waving around so close to Marcie’s hand and vulva.
“Is it safe?” Marcie asked. Ben had to query what she meant. She explained, “I mean if you
put a condom on now and put it inside me, that sperm that’s already leaked wouldn’t make
me pregnant, would it?”
“Would you let me do that?” Ben asked eagerly, feeling his heart thump in anticipation,
hastily adding, “I mean, put a condom on for you, not, erm, make you pregnant. I’d love to
be inside you. And I’m pretty sure it would be safe, especially if I had a little wipe with your
towel. The leakage would be on the inside, wouldn’t it? As long as I don’t muddle things up,
like if I tried putting it on the wrong way round first.”
“Can you do that now then?” Marcie asked with sincere entreatment, Ben thought. She
added, “I put the condoms in the drawer,” nodding toward the bedside where he had found
her toys.
He quickly rolled over, his erection waving around confidently as he did so, and took the
towel. He briskly rubbed himself, perhaps a little too roughly, then pulled the drawer open
to see the box of Durex that they’d opened that afternoon. He pulled the single foil-
wrapped condom out, along with the gel, then rolled back to lie beside Marcie. He peered at
the packet, then ripped along its edge, carefully slipping the greasy circle of rubber out the
right way up. He went to raise his penis with his free hand, but Marcie anticipated his need,
rolling onto her side to hold him upright with both hands wrapped around the base of his
member. To Ben it seemed almost as if she were supporting a ritual wand, perhaps a
heraldic pennant, or one of those religious staves with a brass mitre on the top that he’d
had seen in churches.
He systematically rolled the latex sheath down his full shaft, then offered the tube of
lubricant to Marcie, hoping she’d give him the thrill of rubbing its chilly gel over his
protected penis once again. She did just that, bringing him a burst of intensely pleasant
sensation, then she cast the tube aside. They’d done all this without speaking, working as
one to get them to this point, when they could truly bring themselves together in that
ultimate union of a man and woman in love. Now Marcie spoke, “Shall I lie back so you can
get on top? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go?”
Ben agreed, just propping himself up on his side at first as she settled her head back into
the pillows and parted her legs, smiling wickedly up at him. Feeling his heart hammer in his
anticipation of the moment that was finally at hand, he briefly admired the full length her
naked body. He glanced up from her feet and toes along her smooth strong legs to her
bushy vulva, open to show the delicate pink lips that he’d been so close to just moments
earlier, her pubic hair still matted with the remaining dampness of his saliva and her own
fluids. Then he raised his gaze from her broad hips over her flat stomach to the wide, low
mounds of her softly pooling breasts that he still found so beautiful, with the tracery of
veins under their pale skin and the crinkled dusky ovals stretching around the bumps of
her nipples. Her chest was rising and falling with her breath as he brought his eyes up to
hers, seeing a pleading hope there perhaps, beneath her glasses, as she stretched out her
arms towards him, even as she relaxed in comfort, resting her head with its dark waves of
tight thick hair against her white pillows.
His body knew what he needed to do now as he rolled over onto his knees and hands,
hanging over her between her parted thighs. He glanced down at Marcie’s prone, naked
body, at her sliver cross that hung between them, dangling from the chain that was still
around his neck, and at his wooden member, with its bulging red head clear through the
thin latex, sticking out firmly over her Vixen. He saw her put her hands to her vulva and
part her lips for him, hearing her breathing in, seemingly with her own anticipation.
Balancing on one hand, he guided himself to her, feeling the tip of his penis make slippery
contact with her soft warm skin, then pushed very gently. They both had to wriggle a little
awkwardly to bring themselves together properly, but then Marcie panted out a small,
“Oh!” as he felt her warm lips close around his head.
Propping himself on both hands now, still hanging over her so that their only contact with
each other was through the most imitate parts of their bodies, he began to slowly make
small back and forth movements, easing himself a little deeper into her by degrees, already
panting in his excitement. “This is it,” he whispered, “We’re together, Marcie. I love you.”
He knew his strokes were slipping deep inside her now as he felt the supreme comfort of
her warm vagina enclosing him utterly. “Yes, it’s so right, it feels so good,” Marcie
murmured back as Ben felt his chest working hard to put everything he had into this
moment, “I feel you. I feel you inside me. You’re home, you’re safe. Come home Ben, come
to me, come to Mama,” then realising what she’d just said, suddenly she put one hand to
her mouth and her other flat against his pectoral muscle, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she panted,
“My stupid mouth!”
Ben had felt impelled to stop his pushing waves, but he was acutely aware that he was still
deeply penetrating Marcie as he breathed heavily and said, sincerely, “Don’t worry. It’s not
so strange.” He genuinely felt that her unexpected phrase had not upset or distracted him
in any way. While Marcie tenderly stroked to the sides of his chest with both hands now, he
tried to explain, “You are Woman, feminine perfection, to me, right now. I’m turned on, I’m
virile, and you’re taking that, taking my erection, my maleness, you’re letting that into you,
opening your magic portal, opening the Origin of the World, letting me push through it, to
penetrate your sacred pool, to seed it, perhaps. You could be the Mother, the universal
creator, fertile, the bearer of my children. Right now, you’re the goddess, my holy Madonna,
my white witch, queen of the land, playing at being Mother Nature herself, just for me.”
“Yes, for you, Ben,” Marcie agreed, raking her fingers down his torso then around his sides
and over his back. He had already begun gently moving against her again as he’d been
speaking, still propped on straining arms and wrists above her, but cherishing the sight of
her tender upturned face and naked breasts beneath him, quivering as his movement
became more powerfully thrusting, her whole body rocking against the mattress in
reaction to his firm rhythmic pumping. Now he felt his wooden shaft slip up and down
within her quickly and easily with dizzying pleasure, as she kept quietly talking between
her own heavily panted breaths, “You’re right, I’m queen of my land, of my flesh, open for
you. Ooh, and you’re deep inside me, hard. And you are my king, my sun, radiating warmth,
light, onto and into my body, the essence of Man, fertilising me. Aah! Bringing new life to
my womb, except for one thing, that cunning rubber, stopping that literal truth, deceiving
ourselves. Our bodies know though, we’re truly making love Ben, making our love real. I
feel it. Aah! That’s true magic. Oh yes!” she groaned expressively.
They were both panting heavily now, and Ben had given up bearing his weight so far above
her. He’d sunk onto his elbows, wrapping his hands under Marcie’s shoulders to pull her to
him, just as she clung to him. He was pressing her beneath him, brushing her cheek with his,
burying his nose against her ear, pushing the bare skin of his torso against her stomach and
soft breasts. But still his hips kept moving against her, more urgently now as she kept
whispering in quickly panted breaths, “You’re my fire. Aah! Buried deep, the power that
stirs. Oh, Mother of God, you’re deep! I’ve got you. Your cock, your rod, it stirs my still
waters, you’re touching my womb, and so my wellspring flows. Ooh, so it bursts like a
geyser! Fuck, yes! Let it flow now too, Ben. Oh, flow into me, join me. Aah, yes, relax and let
it out. Oh yes! You’re safe, you’re home, I’ve got you. That’s it, I feel you! Ooh! It’s all okay.
Ooh, I have you. I have you safe. Aah yes, you can relax, and come. Yes, come to me!”
Marcie had raised her legs around Ben’s thighs now, angling her hips up, seemingly
bringing him further into herself as she pushed her pelvis against his, whilst also holding
him in that cage of her limbs. At the same time, he kept embracing Marcie tightly to him,
feeling the tickle of her stray hairs on his nose and cheeks even as he felt his achingly firm
manhood slipping back and forth deep within her, a sensation that was profoundly
satisfying, seeming so healthy and right. Meanwhile his impulses drove him on, pumping
against her with an urgent and unstoppable rhythmic force, rubbing the shaft of his penis
against the grip of her vagina like a bowstring on a fine violin. He felt his conscious
awareness drifting away as he listened to Marcie’s reassuring words, her hypnotically
calming voice, whispering in his ear, with those exciting exclamations that she seemed to
spontaneously vocalise as she expressed her own pleasure. Yet he was also still vaguely
aware that their passionate coition had been going on for a surprisingly long time, perhaps
because he’d only ejaculated a few hours earlier, or perhaps because of the drink, but he
hoped because of her relaxing incantation and his own profound calm. Still, he knew their
precious physical union could not last forever, as his deep instincts drove him towards an
urgent need for completion.
Feeling himself tipping towards the edge, he simply whispered, “Marcie!” then let his
breath moan from him before pushing his lips messily to her eyebrow, squashing his nose
against her glossy forehead, knocking her glasses. She held him tighter, gripping her arms
and legs firmly around him as she groaned, as if making an eager plea of her own, pressing
her soft breasts and belly to his sweat-slicked torso, even as she almost brought his urgent
motion to a standstill.
“Ooh, Ben, come into me!” she repeated in an urgent whisper, “Come home, you’re safe.
Qaddisa Marija! You’re so big, I can feel you! Omm Alla, you’re so far in me! Aah, yes, that’s
it! Ooh, let it flow.”
Ben had felt the first spurt of his ejaculation leak from him almost as if it were an easy and
leisurely trickle, utterly relaxed and natural, and utterly beyond his distant conscious
mind’s control as his body achieved the climax of its long stimulation. Marcie’s words came
to him as if from a great distance as the second pulse ripped through him, which he felt far
more strongly as a forceful gush of sperm jetting from him, deep into Marcie, hard against
her cervix, he was sure, if it weren’t for that rubber she’d mentioned. And yet it was only
then that his true orgasm overwhelmed him, rising from his testes through his pounding
heart and heaving lungs to every hair on his scalp, making him insensate in his ecstasy as
the unstoppable pulses flowed through him, flowed through his spasming rod and out into
Marcie now, even as he kept thrusting against her.
As the pounding waves of his profoundly satisfying orgasm subsided, softer waves of
relaxation followed, lapping through his body with a calmer bliss as his hips’ motion
slowed right down. He felt his heart still hammering as he laboured for breath, yet as he
came to rest, he luxuriated in the sensation of his body lying against Marcie’s, his cheek
against her forehead, her breasts cushioning his chest, her thighs beneath his hips, and her
Vixen enclosing him. He thought he could feel the tickle of her pubic hairs, the warm
silkiness of her lips, and the strong walls of her deep vagina still gripping him. His calm
satisfaction in the tranquil relief that followed such an intimate expression of their shared
love was almost lulling him to sleep even where he lay.
“Ben, Ben! Are you okay? Is your breathing okay?” Marcie asked, the urgent tone in her
voice jolting him back to full awareness. He propped himself back up on his elbows to look
into her eyes, the loving affection that glowed there being overwritten by lines of concern.
Whilst he felt his own profound happiness and love was also wide open to her in his honest
expression, he was serious too as he tried to draw a slow deep breath. With some alarm, he
realised just how choked up that breath suddenly seemed, as if, even though his mouth was
open and relaxed, the air was only able to reach or leave his lungs through a thin straw.
“I think I need the puffer,” he admitted.
“Where is it? I’ll get it,” Marcie said, sounding serious in her assertiveness as she seemed to
tense beneath him.
“In the pocket of my jeans, in the bathroom,” he explained, panting a little.
“I’m sorry, but you must let me go then,” she said with genuine pity in her soulful eyes,
pushing herself up onto her bent elbow beneath him.
Still feeling a little reluctant about doing so, Ben lifted himself higher on his own braced
elbow, pinched the base of his still thick penis with the fingers of his free hand, brushing
Marcie’s warm wet Vixen as he did so, then withdrew his softening penis from within her,
with the warm greasy condom still safely attached. She urgently wriggled away beneath
him, then slid away under his arm.
“Thank you,” he said as he rolled onto his back, drawing his laboured breaths even whilst
he still felt filled with contented satisfaction. He watched her bare shoulders, her sinuous
spine and her round buttocks as she urgently pushed herself into a seated position at the
edge of the mattress, and then quickly dashed from the room. He relaxed back against the
pillows himself now, wheezing but feeling happy, his deep hunger sated, still aware of
Marcie’s natural fragrance lingering around his face, stronger than the incense that still
drifted through the air, one hand on his penis in its flaccid latex sheath, noticing its heat
under his touch.
Marcie was back just a moment later, holding out the blue inhaler to him as her naked
hourglass figure seemed to shimmy across the bedroom. Propping himself up on his elbow,
he thanked her again, popped off its cover, and drew in the puff of relieving agent. He held
his arm out so that Marcie could cuddle up beside him as he blew out and took a couple of
experimental breaths. As she snuggled beneath his arm, he felt his breath was still tight, so
he inhaled another dose deeply. Marcie’s presence seemed to be helping to calm him too as
she rested her hand on his chest, shuffling down beside him, letting the bare skin of her hip
and thigh press against his. “Is it working?” she asked, her voice betraying some urgent
anxiety even as she relaxed against him.
As Ben could still feel the constriction there, he took another good puff, just as the
pharmacist had instructed. “Yes, I think so,” he reassured her, adding, “I just want to be
sure.” Marcie let him take his time to get his breath back, idly stroking his chest with her
fingertips, pushing his pendant around as she did so. “One more,” Ben said, using the
inhaler again. He remembered being told that he should only take one or two puffs
normally, but also that he could take as many as ten, leaving thirty seconds between each, if
he was having an attack. He wasn’t sure if that’s what he was experiencing, or he’d just
overwhelmed his system with such an intense experience, but he also wanted to reassure
Marcie that he could recover well with the assistance of the prescribed treatment.
As he waited, he felt his heart slowing to a steadier heavy thump, then he experimentally
took longer and slower breaths, which were coming easily and smoothly now. He took
Marcie’s hand in his and gripped it, saying, “Yes, I’m fine.”
She looked up into his eyes, reflecting his smile as her worries passed. “I guess in other
times, couples would have shared a cigarette after sex, wouldn’t they?” she remarked in a
thoughtful way as she looked down at their clasped hands. “Now we make do with me
sitting on a towel and you taking your medicine.”
“It’s still wonderful, Marcie,” Ben said, surprised to feel his eyes stinging with potential
tears. He wondered where that emotion had come from, if they were tears of joy, or if he
was sad because this unique and precious moment, the first time they’d truly made love in
their new shared bed, with all its muddled mixture of activity, was already slipping into the
past. Or perhaps the tears had merely come because he was a little bit tipsy and
overwrought. “It’s been a perfect way to finish, to conclude a very special day, the day
when we agreed to live together.”
“I wouldn’t say perfect, Ben,” she admitted ruefully, “I might have accidentally let myself
pee on your face, and you scared the life out of me by seeming to do an encore of your near-
expiration performance at the gym.”
Ben laughed. “What’s a bit of pee between friends?” he joked, thinking he didn’t need to go
into just how at ease he was with whatever had happened again. Then he added more
seriously, “And thank you, for noticing my breathing, and then helping. I’m sorry that I got
you worried. I don’t know myself if it was a proper asthma attack. I was so into making
love to you, I was lost to my body’s impulses, and it felt so good, to be inside you, making us
one, in union together. Maybe I just got carried away. But I love you, from my core. I want
to join myself to you, completely, in my body, my heart, my future plans, my whole being.”
“That’s good, Ben. I love you too, and I’m really happy to be joined to you.” She glanced up
into his eyes with a soulful look, adding, “We have made it real now, haven’t we? It feels
like we’re a proper couple. But I’ve got to keep you safe too. You might think it wouldn’t be
such a bad way to go, but I really don’t want to lose you now.”
“I promise,” Ben said seriously, gripping her hand again, “I’ll look after myself, for you, for
our future.”
He felt Marcie’s shoulder shake under his arm and heard her give a kind of choking sniff,
then realised to his surprise that she was crying too. He squeezed her tenderly, asking her
what was up, and she replied, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so happy, but it’s so fragile too, isn’t it? It
feels as if it could all pop, disappearing like a soap bubble, in the time it takes to breathe out
one final time.”
“No Marcie, it won’t,” Ben denied, even though he too felt some of the same sadness about
the impermanence of their vivid experiences. He said, “I promise you, I will keep breathing.
I’m being looked after, by professionals now, but by you too. It’s you who’s done the most,
saving me, giving me strength, raising the wind to carry us into the open sky, making me
your lion, letting me be born again, rampant in your own secret Narnia!”
“Oh, stop talking nonsense! You’re teasing me now,” she playfully chastised, giving him a
hard shove with her shoulder. Then as she released his hand to dab her eyes, she echoed
Ben’s own sceptical thoughts by admitting, “I’m probably just a bit tired and emotional
after a big day and few too many sherbets. It has been a magical end to a special evening,
but I really do need another proper wee, and then I need to get to sleep. We’ve got another
busy day tomorrow too.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, “And I need to tidy up Roddie’s little mackintosh.”
Marcie giggled as she pushed herself up and looked down at the sorry mess of his shrunken
penis, appearing a little ridiculous now, Ben thought, in the long limp condom with its little
payload of semen. “Have I finally worn him out? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him looking so
small and sleepy.”
“He’ll be up again in the morning, all pumped up for the new day, I’m sure,” Ben joked.
“Well he’d better mind how he goes then,” she replied with mock sternness, before
excusing herself to pop to the bathroom. Alone again, Ben checked that he was breathing
easily as he tidied himself up, hoping Marcie wouldn’t mind when he gave his small
slippery penis a wipe with her towel. He got up to check if she had left a wet patch on the
bed, but he couldn’t see one, then he tried to tidy up a little. As he shook out the pillows and
duvet, he thought it would be very likely that he’d be putting on another wash on very soon
anyway, for the towel at least, and he could change the sheet then too. Then he noticed the
incense still glowing, and wondered if its smoke had been part of the problem. He licked his
fingertips then extinguished it by pinching its tip, thinking of their safety too if they were
about to fall asleep.
Marcie appreciated his effort to make the bed when she came back in, still nude, Ben was
delighted to see. Then she asked him if he didn’t need to have a pee and splash his face
before he came to bed. Ben took the hint, quickly finding his way through the darkened flat
to the bathroom.
When he came back, he found her already snuggled down under the duvet with her glasses
off. She murmured that she’d set the alarm as he slipped into bed beside her and clicked
the lamp off, putting his own naked body against hers, nestling into the spoons position,
just as he had on their first night. Though his hips were now pressing against her naked
buttocks and his hand was gently resting on the bare silken skin of her soft warm breast, he
remained relaxed and unaroused. Marcie had been right to say she had worn him out, he
realised, even as he still enjoyed the sensations, burying his nose into the damp perfumed
scent of her hair’s tightly knotted braid as he drifted into sleep.
“Sleep tight, my witchy queen,” he rumbled.
“Sweet dreams, my noble lion,” he heard Marcie murmur with a sleepy sigh.
Chapter 23
Ben was jerked awake by the sound of Marcie’s alarm. He rolled onto his back to stare at
the sunlight leaking across the ceiling as she groaned and turned it off. His head felt a little
tight, and he recognised the effect of last night’s mixture of booze. Marcie may have been
feeling the same way as she rubbed her face and groaned, “Holy Mary! Is it that time? Come
on girl, up and at ‘em.”
Ben rolled over to look at the bare speckled skin of her shoulders below her skewed plait as
she lay facing away from him. He raised a heavy hand to stroke her gently as she fumbled
for her glasses. She rolled back over, pushing herself against him, though he still enjoyed
catching a glimpse of her naked flowing breasts and her nipples’ big soft areolae. They
hugged, and Marcie pressed a kiss to his face, just pushing her lips firmly to his eyebrow,
but she apologised, “Sorry, I can’t hang around to play with you. I need a wee. I feel a bit
dulled and drained after last night’s excesses too, to be honest. Shall we quickly see to our
ablutions then get some coffee and breakfast down ourselves?”
Ben agreed, managing to plant a kiss on her lips before she rolled away again. She slipped
out of bed to find some clothes and their dirty towel, then rushed for the bathroom. Ben
watched her naked back as she went, admiring the curves of her spine, her bare buttocks
and her muscular thighs, as well as the squashed profile of her breast as she clutched her
bundle to her chest. Then he eased himself up too, looking down with a kind of nostalgia at
his softly swollen and lengthening penis. Thinking back to last night, he knew that despite
his somewhat sore head, he was a very lucky man.
He picked up his jeans and the used condom, found some clean pants and a t-shirt in the
spare room, then paused in the kitchen to get rid of the condom and fill the kettle. He could
hear the shower running already, but didn’t hesitate to push through the bathroom’s open
door.
“Is that helping?” he asked Marcie, as he saw her scrubbing her face under the jet of water.
She blew out her breath to agree as Ben unselfconsciously sat on the toilet to urinate too.
He watched her as she grabbed her shower puff and gel, working up a lather before
rubbing herself down, all in a far more business-like way than she had last night. Ben
guessed she didn’t mind that he still enjoyed watching her do this though, seeing the suds
run over the glossy olive skin of her chest, across her swaying breasts especially, as well as
further on down her stomach and her thighs, with her sopping wet tangle of fur between
them. Still, he didn’t linger this morning as he heard the kettle come to the boil.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked as he rose to leave, and she asked what he was having. “I’ll have a
tea, but I’ll make a pot of coffee too. I’ll have that straight after, with my toast.”
“I’ll do the same,” Marcie confirmed, briskly rinsing herself down, “Put one sugar in my tea
too, please, and give the bag a good squeeze. I could do with the extra boost this morning.”
Ben confirmed, then stood naked in the kitchen, fumbling through cupboards and packets
to make the drinks, feeling a little dirty himself, but glad that the blind was closed this time
at least. Marcie was already dressed, with her hair pinned up for the day, as she emerged
from the bathroom and came up behind him. He saw she was wearing jeans herself today,
along with a tough-looking plaid blouse. She pushed herself up against his bum as she
wrapped one arm around his bare chest, then she stroked the palm of her hand down his
belly as she reached for one of the mugs of strong tea. Ben twisted around in her arm to
hold her to him, but she was already pulling away.
“Are you going to get in the shower too, just to wash your fundamentals at least?” she
asked with a warm smile, glancing down at his elongated but still limp manhood, and Ben
agreed he would.
Ben focused on washing his armpits and groin, as Marcie had suggested, and let the water
run over his face, just as she had done. He felt somewhat recharged as he vigorously
towelled himself dry and dressed. By the time he got out of the bathroom, Marcie had
already laid out the breakfast table and was making toast, its smell making Ben realise the
deep hunger in the pit of his stomach. They both ate milky cereal and buttery toast,
draining glasses of orange juice as well as their mugs of tea, which they refilled with the
darkly aromatic fresh coffee, both ignoring the laundry that was still on the airer in the
middle of the living room.
Ben confirmed that Marcie was feeling a little better for some food and the caffeine, then
remarked on how a long gym session could help with a hangover too. That led her to
wonder if they could fit a trip to the gym in that afternoon, between their solicitor’s
appointment and the start of her shift. She reminded him that she wanted to keep a close
eye on him as he eased himself back into his routine, and he agreed to all that. So as they
continued eating and drinking, they rehearsed their plan for the day and the paths around
town that they’d take. Ben found his list, remembering to add ‘hammer’ to it as he thought
of Marcie getting ready the previous evening, and confirmed with her that his plan was to
ride his bike over while she drove back with the rest of his stuff.
Marcie agreed, then asked, “Do you want to keep your bike in the hallway?”
“I’d not thought,” Ben admitted, saying, “It should be okay left outside, out in the
backyard.”
“No, if it’s your special toy, we can keep it safe and dry inside,” she said, smiling as if she
were being cheeky, adding “I’ve been to other people’s flats like this where you have to
squeeze around bikes to get in.”
“If you’re sure,” Ben said hesitantly, beginning to tidy their breakfast things up, now that
they’d finished eating. He was beginning to form a plan though, “But maybe we could get a
little shed. I could build it in the yard. I said I’d help smarten it up out there, so maybe we’ll
need one anyway, for tools and that.”
“Maybe,” Marcie agreed, seemingly hesitant herself, “I don’t want you to overdo it though.
Do you want to start thinking about a plan, then we can talk to Shona and Ali about it? Once
they’ve agreed, we can take it in small steps, and Ali might be able to help with all that
physical manly stuff.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed thoughtfully, “I could sketch it up, like I did for the NVQ, when we did a
bit on landscape gardening.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Marcie agreed. She knocked back the last of her coffee then
stood up to take the crockery through for washing up, whilst Ben added ‘NVQ stuff’ and
‘art stuff’ to his list.
As she came back through to clear the remaining things, she saw what he was doing. “You
mentioned tools for your hypothetical shed. Have you got anything like that which you
could pick up today, if you’re going to get handy around the place?”
Ben guessed she may be trying to be teasingly suggestive again, but he answered her
honestly. “Aye, well, I’ve plenty of tools, for work, for my models, for DIY,” he said as he
stood up and followed her into the kitchen to help with the washing up.
“I’m not so good with DIY,” Marcie admitted as she ran a bowl of water. “A screwdriver and
some left-over Allen keys from my flatpack furniture are probably all I’ve got, jumbled with
all the junk in there,” she said, indicating the kitchen drawer that Ben already knew to be
stuffed with plastic food bags, scissors, Sellotape and other random things.
“Well, maybe I’ll pick up a few things, for the bike too, and a drill,” he added, thinking it
through. “It’s a bit vague what’s mine and what belongs to the Trust, I guess. I’ve my own
harnesses and carabiners though, for climbing. Some things you don’t share, but I don’t
need to pick them up.”
“So long as you don’t think you’ll be climbing the walls here!” Marcie joked, and Ben
laughed with her as he dried their bowls.
They kept on planning as they finished off, then they followed each other around as they
brushed their teeth, Ben remembering to use his brown inhaler, before going through to
the bedroom to make the bed together and gather their things, including Ben’s list with its
quickly noted additions. Ben picked up the old sports bag that Marcie had brought to the
hospital with his emergency overnight things in, saying they’d pick up his big rucksack and
use more of the Trust’s plastic crates if they had to. At the door, Marcie paused to
confirmed he had everything, and he repeated his new mnemonic aloud, “Wallet, keys,
phone, puffer,” patting his pockets to check as he did so.
Marcie drove confidently on the now familiar route through the heavy morning traffic,
commenting that she was glad they’d left the seats down in the back of her hatchback Ka.
As they parked up, Marcie confirmed Ben would be careful with the dust, being alert for
signs of wheezing, and then they got out of the car to stand before the old coach house
under the cool overcast sky.
It felt odd leading her up the steps to his own flat, and even more peculiar once he was
inside, as if he were a stranger breaking into his own former home, seeing the open-plan
studio flat for the first time. He could smell the sawdust immediately, and he looked around
the roomy barn of a space suspiciously, wondering where those dangerous microscopic
particles were piling up. His eyes scanned over the carpeted floor and his rugs, across the
worn fabric of his second-hand sofa and chairs, over his model table and shelves, up over
the beams and the windowsills of the high windows along the side walls. He realised that
Marcie’s first intuition on coming into this flat was spot on, as it could be everywhere.
Marcie seemed more at ease, or was perhaps just putting on a positive performance for his
benefit at what she knew might be a difficult moment. “I like the way the big bed is under
those windows at the front,” she observed.
“Aye, I made that myself, just with a bit of seasoned timber from a sycamore I brought
down. That window was a pair of doors once, I guess, for loading straight in here, if this was
a loft over the stables.”
“I would have liked to have tried it out with you,” Marcie admitted, giggling. “I could have
ridden you, facing the sun, celebrating all creation!”
“I’m sorry it’s cloudy today then,” Ben shyly replied, a guilty flashback popping
unexpectedly into his mind. He recalled his brief liaison with another woman who’d
perhaps thought the same way. She’d insisted they draw the curtains to let the dawn light
in before she straddled him. He remembered her squatting over him and grinding
mechanically against his pelvis, the shafts of light shining across her pointed breasts as
they jolted around, whilst she screwed her eyes tight against the sun. Privately, he now felt
a little ashamed to think of the way he’d been with the women who’d come before Marcie.
“No, we can’t get you breathless here, can we?” Marcie said, unaware of his recollections
but perhaps still imagining a similar scene in her own mind. “I bet we shouldn’t even stop
for a cup of tea. Ooh, your fridge,” she added urgently, “We’d better throw you old food out,
hadn’t we? It’ll all be going off, and it will only get worse.”
Marcie had obviously seen where his kitchen area was, off in one corner across the main
living area, which he’d laid out by setting his sofa across from a low coffee table in front of
his new flat screen television and the shelving units that surrounded it. She was already
heading over across that central space as she said, “Shall I start with that, and empty your
rubbish too, while you begin loading bags?”
Ben agreed, finding his large rucksack and an old stained duffle bag too. He started filling
them with a good selection of his clothes, putting in his boots, smart shoes and summer
sandals too. With Marcie busy off in the far corner, he acted quickly and subtly to check for
a certain small box at the back of his sock drawer in his bedside cabinet. He pulled it out,
then briefly opened it to check that it had what he wanted. He saw the silver Thor’s
hammer pendant that he was looking for, on its plain black waxed cotton cord, nestled
amongst some unused cufflinks that he’d been given. Then he slipped the whole box into
the safety of one of his rucksack pockets, thinking he’d give the pendant to Marcie later.
He was leaving lots of clothes that he rarely wore behind, like his one smart suit and some
old jackets, but he figured he had plenty to be going on with, so he moved on down his
remembered list. First he went through to the small bathroom to bundle some toiletries
into a sponge bag, then paced back across the main room to his shelving units. Marcie had
dropped a stuffed bin bag by the door, along with a smaller carrier bag, and now came over
too. She explained that she’d found some things still in date which they could take home,
then offered to help. He thanked her for sorting the food and rubbish, then they checked his
bulging concertina file of important paperwork, looking for his employment contract. He
found it but didn’t read it, then Marcie suggested they take the whole file, confirming that it
had things like his passport and driver’s license in, which she pointed out might be useful
for other admin things like the solicitor’s identity check.
Then they began browsing his CDs together, which were on the same shelves as his videos,
DVDs and PlayStation games, behind the television, alongside the stereo. They agreed there
would be no point bringing the DVDs and so on round to Marcie’s flat, or their shared flat,
as she kept reminding Ben. She vaguely mentioned hiring some storage for when Ben really
quit this place. That prompted Ben to share his own vague thought that he might be able to
find some space back on his dad’s farm if it came to that.
Marcie had a bit of a laugh at the unimaginative titles of his dance compilation CDs, then
had another laugh at some of the women posing on their covers. Ben had to reassure her
that ‘hardcore’ was just a genre of dance in this case, which only made her laugh more. She
suggested he just take all of them back, but he knew some were rubbish, so he quickly
made a pile of around three dozen on the coffee table beside his stuffed sponge bag,
remarking that perhaps they should collect one of the plastic crates from the workshop for
these bits and pieces.
Marcie took a more serious interest in his meagre collection of books, stacked carelessly in
an old cardboard box. He showed her some of his work-related books that he’d saved from
his studies, big floppy paperbacks with titles like The Tree and Shrub Expert and The Tree
Climbing Professional, which he’d packed away with his old coursework folders. She was
also intrigued by the hardback books that he’d saved from his childhood. She quickly
admired a pair of Winnie-the-Pooh books and a collection of animal stories with vividly
daubed illustrations. “Let’s just take the whole box,” she suggested, and Ben agreed. Then
she asked, “What’s still on your list?”
Ben got it out to briefly glance at it with her, noting that he’d forgotten the art stuff for his
sketching, then saying that he’d collect the tools too. He found his old pencil case, some
quality paper and a modest watercolour palette in yet another box on the shelves, which he
also checked for decent brushes. Then he explained there were the basics for DIY in the
toolbox that he pulled off the shelves too, saving them the need to dig around in the
workshop downstairs. As he opened it to check what was inside, he thought of the weighty
craft knife and other model-making tools on his work table. Marcie innocently asked if his
hammer was already in the box, and Ben realised she’d read but misinterpreted his cryptic
reminder about his Norse pendant. He still wanted to keep the surprise for later though, so
he played along with her question, showing her the claw hammer that happened to be
buried in the toolbox’s bottom compartment.
As he rose to cross the room to collect his crafting tools, Marcie was keen to see his work in
progress as well as his other models, commenting that she’d not really taken them in
before. However, she’d obviously noticed them now, as she gestured to them on the high
windowsills around the large room. Ben showed her the frame of the hull that he’d barely
started, then lifted down a couple of the models that he was most proud of. There was a
three-masted clipper in a bottle that he thought didn’t look too amateurish, and the large
frigate that he’d carefully rigged to match the Danish training ship that he’d been on. As he
lifted it down carefully with both hands, Marcie seemed very impressed, but noted how
awfully dusty it was.
Ben said he’d get a duster from under the kitchen sink, and when he was there, he saw his
shoe cleaning kit too, which reminded him of Marcie’s scuffed boots. He called to Marcie
across the room, to where she was still admiring his model, reminding her of them and
asking if she had her own polish and brushes. “Oh, are you still thinking about those old
things? They really do tickle something in your eager male libido, don’t they?” she called
back with a teasing smirk, “Well, do pick up your bits for them then. I’m honestly not sure if
I have anything.”
Ben took a detour across the room to drop the shoe kit off by the toolbox and the pile of
CDs, then returned to Marcie with the duster. She took it off him, started dabbing at the
frigate’s dusty sails, then perhaps realised how difficult cleaning it might be, and picked up
the ship in the bottle instead. She held it between them in one hand as they stood at the
table, making deliberate repetitive firm strokes over the glass in a way that she obviously
knew they’d both find suggestive.
“Hmm, well much as I’d like to linger here and rub down your marvellous ornaments,” she
began, the smirk still lingering on her lips, “We do need to get this stuff back. Why don’t we
take just one of your models home for now? Not the great big one maybe.”
Ben scanned around, his eyes settling on a Viking longship that he’d recently completed
and felt quite satisfied by. It was only around a foot long and quite plain, but he felt that
he’d perhaps caught the primitive spirit of the thing. He went to collect it as he explained
this, then handed it over to Marcie so that she could give its wide low hull and single spar a
little dusting. She seemed to reinvigorate his own enthusiasm for the model and its historic
associations as she noted its features. When she asked, Ben explained it was based on a
genuine ship found at Skuldelev.
She asked where that was, then began lightly teasing him about his obsession with
Denmark, or perhaps their women. She jokingly asked him if there were tiny effigies of
himself and Birgitte that he’d crafted, cuddled up together in a cabin of his big ship. He
denied that truthfully, but still felt a rush of blood to his cheeks as he blushed, and in that
moment he wondered why he’d reacted like that. Perhaps it was because he had indeed
daydreamed about his brief romance with the athletic young Danish woman while he’d
been crafting the barque, or perhaps it was because he now realised that Marcie had
obviously paid close attention to his previous quick reference to Birgitte.
While Marcie kept delicately dusting the Viking ship, Ben gathered up his special craft knife,
his jeweller’s screwdriver set and a few other small model-making bits. He carried them
over to put in the toolbox, and Marcie followed with the model longship, noting she’d
better get that plastic crate. After a brief negotiation, she agreed that Ben could come with
her, to get his bike and the power drill too, as long as he was careful and had his inhaler
handy.
As they left the flat, Ben picked some of the bags of clothes that he’d already packed to take
down to the car, whilst Marcie carried the bags of rubbish and food. Ben then helped
Marcie to open to workshop doors wide to let the fresh air in, despite the risk of a sudden
breeze blowing up a cloud of dangerous dust. Marcie remarked on the great pile of offcuts
piled by the door, and Ben confirmed that they came from his most recent job, left behind
when the good timber was collected on Monday. She reminded him unnecessarily that the
cedar may be dangerous as she noted the drifts of sawdust in it, and they carefully worked
around it.
He pointed out where the drill that he wanted was, but he let Marcie get it to put in the box
that she’d found, as it was covered in dust too. Ben got his bike out and chained it to the
exterior stairs, not trusting the neighbourhood enough to leave it unattended and unlocked
even for a few minutes. Then Ben locked up the big doors again as Marcie carried the crate
upstairs. As he did so, he wondered when he’d next see or spend any time in that dusty
space. He’d spent so long working there over the last five or so years, but now he guessed
that was all behind him, except perhaps to supervise some kind of tidying up or handover.
It felt almost as if he were saying goodbye to his old life as he locked up, hearing the primed
alarm beeping in its familiar way as if it were a sad and lonely plaintive voice.
He jogged back up the stairs, noting that he felt fine in his chest, to find Marcie dusting the
crate and the drill beside the pile they’d made. He helped her stack the CDs and other
things, packing some hastily grabbed cushions around the model ship on top. Ben then
carefully carried the crate, which was now quite heavy, down to the car, whilst Marcie
followed with the box of books, into which she’d also stuffed his file of important papers.
They made one more trip up to the flat to check they had everything, Ben tidying up the
things left on his shelves a little. Then they were back outside, Ben locking up before
moving to the foot of the stairs.
“Well, that seemed to go okay,” Marcie remarked brightly as she took his hand. Ben agreed,
breathing easily with a contented smile. Marcie went on, “Are going to be okay cycling back
now? I’ll start unloading the car as soon as I get back, but I guess you won’t be far behind
me.”
Ben reassured her that he’d be fine, then she leant up to give him a big wet kiss, telling him
how brave he’d been as she pressed her chest to his. Then she’d released his hand and was
making for the car. Ben watched her get in, start it and manoeuvre it around as he unlocked
his bike, returning her wave as she drove off, then he pushed off and began steadily
pedalling, being careful not to overexert himself.
He found the ride straightforward, with the traffic lighter than it had been earlier, even
though the route was a steady climb. When he pulled into Marcie’s street, he was surprised
to see her car blocking the road with its hazard lights flashing and its doors open. He saw
her emerge from the flat, seemingly a little flustered, to pick up the crate full of his things
from the open boot as he quickly pulled over onto the pavement beside her.
“This is the last one,” she said breathlessly as she staggered through the front door. As she
carefully dropped it down in the hall at the end of a line made by his other bags and boxes,
she turned to explain, “I couldn’t find a parking space nearby, so I decided to just stop and
get it all unloaded quickly. I’m okay,” she added, as Ben raised an arm in concern, though
she was panting as she spoke, “I’ll move the car now. Maybe you could put the food in the
fridge, then we can leave the rest while we pop upstairs for that coffee with Shona.”
Ben followed her out, watching her as she got into her car and then quickly drove off. He
gave an apologetic wave of thanks to someone who’d driven their own car behind hers to
queue, then he pushed his bike down the pavement a little way to lock it to a convenient
signpost. Back at the flat, he swung the door to, slipped off his shoes, then found the carrier
bag of the things Marcie had rescued from his kitchen. He took these through to put away in
the fridge and cupboards as Marcie had suggested, then he went back to the hallway to
start moving things into the spare room for the time being.
Marcie found him there, and though she still seemed a bit hot and bothered as she came in,
she gave him a warm smile as she reached out for a big hug. As he buried his face against
her hair, she sighed and murmured, “Welcome to your new home, my big hearty lion.”
He kissed her, tenderly at first and then, as he found her lips parted, with rising passion,
playing the tip of his tongue against her lips, before both of them began pushing their
tongues eagerly forwards, holding each other close. Though he still felt a little woolly from
last night’s excesses, the bike ride had re-energised him somewhat, and he would eagerly
have carried on. But Marcie was the voice of reason, pulling away to say, “Come on, you
hungry beast, we’ve got a date to keep with Shona before our appointment with Mister
Michaels.”
She rubbed his head playfully as she backed off to let him put his shoes on, then she led him
outside by the hand. She was about to ring the bell beside Shona’s front door when she
remembered his bike, which she’d just noticed chained up further down the road. After
suggesting he get it, she waited while he went to unlock it, then held the flat’s door open for
him as he pushed it inside, using the space he’d already cleared of his other stuff. He felt a
little sheepish as he pushed it past her onto the carpet, trying to apologise and thank her at
the same time, but she just told him not to be so daft. She reminded him that they’d already
agreed this would be how they’d do it for the time being, smirking as she told him that
there were worse things she could think of than having his rugged bike parked in her
bedroom corridor.
Chapter 24
When Marcie had locked up again and rung Shona’s bell, they only had to wait a moment
before they heard her footsteps. She opened the door with Fiona on her hip, giving them
both a beaming smile. Marcie leant forwards over the baby to peck both her cheeks, then as
she squeezed past to lead the way up the stairs, to Ben’s surprise, Shona held out her free
hand and offered up a cheek to let Ben kiss her too. Ben gave her single peck, then she
ushered him inside and closed the door.
“Come on up,” Shona said as she followed Marcie herself whilst Ben slipped his shoes off,
then calling out to both of them, “It’s okay to pop up the back stairs to see us, anytime, so
long as yous don’t mind how you find us.” Ben wondered at this, thinking of how she’d
found them yesterday, but he sternly reminded himself that as he wasn’t supposed to know
what Shona had witnessed them doing. He resolved to not give himself away and just react
innocently to that invitation, or any other suggestive remarks.
So he simply said, “Thank you,” adding in an ambiguous way, “We’ll remember another
time.”
Marcie was already in the living room, crouched on one knee to give Zain a hug and ruffle
Cal’s hair. When Cal saw Ben, he eagerly shouted out, “I’ll get the Lego!” and Ben realised
that this would be his role now in Cal’s mind, at least for the time being. He also wondered
with some shyness if Marcie recognised the similarities between the boy and himself, in the
way that she’d perhaps felt some duty to admire his model ships. She’d now straightened
up to follow Shona into the kitchen though as Cal charged off to get his aeroplane, which
Ben saw had more imaginative accretions when he returned with it. But as he squatted
down to appreciate it, taking it carefully from Cal’s small hands, he saw Marcie turn, then
smile and wink at him, which Ben took to mean that she understood exactly how much like
the five-year-old boy he was himself.
Ben let Cal rush off again to get his box of Lego, then tried to make peace between the boys
by getting Zain to agree to not snatch pieces, diverting his attention by suggesting he try
making his own tower of bricks. Shona called through to confirm that he wanted coffee,
then came through with a mug for him as well as her own. Marcie followed, carrying Fiona
on her hip now. She carefully put her own mug down before settling slowly and gingerly
onto the sofa, sighing as she took the weight off her feet.
Shona saw this as she sat down herself, taking Fiona back. She asked with a smirk, “Have
you been overdoing it, hen? Is it a wee bit tender down there? Would you like me to get you
an extra cushion, maybe a bag of frozen peas to sit on? I remember how keen Ali was when
I first started letting him have a go with mine. I think he wanted to synchronise it to his
salah, his prayers, five times a day! And I wondered if he was trying to start a fire down
there, there was so much rubbing. But you wait until you use it the other way around, lassie.
It smarts a wee bit more then, I can tell you!” Marcie had modestly denied Shona’s first
question, but then she had started giggling, and Shona had begun cackling along with her as
she’d gone on. Now they were both shaking with laughter, clasping each other’s hands,
tears rolling down their cheeks.
“What’s they saying? What’s so funny?” Zain wailed.
“It’s girls’ things, I think,” Ben tried to explain, feeling his own cheeks glow, “We’re not
meant to understand.”
“Huh, girls!” Cal sighed in an exaggerated way, as if he knew all about them and the trouble
they were.
As their laughter calmed down, Marcie began telling Shona what they’d actually done that
morning, and then some of what they’d got up on their night out, by way of explaining why
she genuinely ached a bit. Shona was eager to hear about Ben’s friends, whom he was able
to tell her about, though Marcie gave a more direct and colourful description of her first
impressions. That lead her onto an account of Sofie’s reactions to the eager attention of
Jack and Patch, so to address Shona’s curiosity, she also vividly described them. Ben was
surprised at just how much she’d obviously taken in, and just how interested Shona
seemed to be. Then he remembered Marcie telling him about the way she’d been with
girlfriends at school, even making things up to entertain themselves if the reality was too
dull. As he kept playing with the boys and their Lego, sipping his coffee, he wondered if the
two of them had crossed over into a version of those teenage fantasies that they must both
have known.
Fiona, still cuddled up to Shona on the sofa, seemed to be getting increasingly fractious and
vocal though, and Ben guessed what might be coming next. Indeed, moments later Marcie
asked directly if she needed a feed and Shona agreed. She asked Marcie to pick up a muslin
cloth, then Ben saw her manoeuvring the baby around in her lap and start to unbutton her
blouse. Still feeling quite self-conscious, he dropped his eyes to the boys’ activities.
Shona obviously spotted this once Fiona had started feeding, as when her encouraging coos
of baby-talk had finished, she said more loudly, “Don’t worry, Ben. You needn’t turn your
back on us.”
“He’s embarrassed,” Marcie said with a girlish giggle.
“His mam probably started him on the bottle too soon,” Shona chuckled, making Marcie
laugh more.
“Do you know, I hope Ben won’t mind me saying, but maybe that fits. He grew up on a dairy
farm,” Marcie managed to say, then both women were howling with laughter again, Shona
cackling even as Fiona stayed latched on, making her rhythmic slurping noises unawares.
Zain noticed though, asking with plaintive frustration, “What’s so funny now?”
“It’s about cows, in the dairy,” Ben quickly thought to say, even though he was again
flushed with embarrassment, “Cows are funny, aren’t they? They make you laugh. Moo,
Moo-oo!”
He went on making childish noises, sticking his jaw out like a bellowing cow calling for her
calf, as Zain started laughing too and joined in, “Moo! Moo-moo!”
Marcie and Shona were still rolling with laughter, gasping for air. Shona dabbed her eyes
with one hand while she kept Fiona at her breast with the other. “A dairy farm! No wonder,
the poor man. We’ll never compete with that, hen!” She erupted in another gale of laughter
as Marcie shook soundlessly beside her, gripping her arm, tears rolling down her cheeks as
well.
“Ah, I’m sorry Ben,” Shona managed to say eventually as they both calmed down to mere
sniggering, “I shouldn’t tease. But Marcie, hen, I’ve not laughed like that since I don’t know
when. You’re a tonic, girl, a wee sunbeam.”
“It’s because of Ben, Shona,” she replied, suddenly serious again, “He’s made me happy.
There’s all sorts going on, so much is up in the air, but we’re happy we found each other.”
“Aye, I see that now. You’re a lovely couple. Keep reminding yourselves of that, whatever
else. You’re making your own destiny now, your shared story, together.”
“Well, it felt as if we kind of came out and made that official last night,” Marcie said, “We
decided yesterday that we really were living together, and in the bar Sofie got everyone to
raise a glass as a toast to us. I don’t know about you, Ben, but it felt a bit as if we’d declared
something significant in public and before witnesses.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, making deliberate eye contact with Shona, “And moving some of that
stuff over this morning, I guess that was part of it.”
“Well, congratulations then,” Shona said, reaching over with her free arm to give an
awkward hug to Marcie beside her before smiling broadly back at Ben, even whilst Fiona
kept feeding, “I’d raise a glass to yous both myself if I were still a drinker. So you feel like
you’ve moved in properly now, eh Ben?”
“Aye, I’ve not given notice on my old flat yet, but having things like my passport downstairs
now, it makes it feel more real, doesn’t it? Oh, and my bike. I was going to ask, would you
and Ali be okay with a shed? I mean, I could put a shed up in the yard, for my bike, but other
things too, and you could use it. I said I could help cheer up the backyard, didn’t I?”
“Thank you Ben, I’m sure that would be lovely, and I’m sure Ali would love to help if he
can,” Shona said as she unselfconsciously finished Fiona’s feed, “But what were your
thoughts about those other things? We cannae get rid of the concrete, can we?”
“No, well, maybe, with a jackhammer, a pneumatic drill, but that would be noisy and messy.
And then we’d need a load of topsoil too. We could make raised beds instead though, from
railway sleepers or scaffold boards maybe, as long as they got sawn up safely for me. I’m
not sure what we’d plant, though. You know I’m more into trees, right? But we couldn’t fit
much in,” Ben paused, but even the boys seemed to be listening attentively, so he went on,
“The right kind of maple or a rowan might stay small, perhaps a heavily coppiced silver
birch, or a hawthorn, and they’re tough, or maybe a few dwarf apples would be nice. I bet
the boys would like something to climb though, and nothing’ll ever get that big.”
“Ali and I aren’t really gardeners either,” Shona admitted, “And I can see little fingers
getting into great tubs of mud and just making a mess. Maybe a feature like a rockery might
be better, but then a bunch of expensive plants might just get squashed really quickly as the
boys scrambled over it. I’m not sure if we could even get someone to deliver large rocks
over the back wall anyway.”
“Oh, that would be no trouble for the right crew. I’ve not really checked, but the back alley
doesn’t look so tight,” Ben reassured her, then dropped his eyes in embarrassment as he
realised his words might be taken as a double entendre. He quickly blundered on, “We
sometimes have to get big logs out of tight spots, on jobs for the Trust, or had to, past tense,
I guess.”
“Hey, it’s okay, remember?” Marcie reminded him calmly, with no trace of a snigger, “New
things will work out.”
“Aye, you’re so right,” Ben agreed, smiling warmly back at her, realising he wasn’t that sad
or worried at all really, “But we need to see Roland, don’t we? He might know how others
have bounced back from this.”
“Ah well, don’t let me keep yous from your important appointment,” Shona said, gently
jigging Fiona against her shoulder, “You folks are so good at moving things along quickly.
It’s like you’ve got fair winds behind yous.”
“You’re exactly right!” Marcie confirmed, as they all rose to their feet, “We’ve kind of been
saying the same thing. Did you know Ben could sail ships too?”
Ben hadn’t told Shona that, and she seemed genuinely keen to hear more, but they agreed it
would have to wait for another time as they headed towards the front stairs to leave. The
boys dutifully followed them down too, so it was quite a crowd in the little space at the
bottom of the stairs as they all tried to give each other quick goodbye hugs. Ben promised
the boys he’d be back soon for more help with the Lego, maybe tomorrow or the day after,
and then he and Marcie got away.
“Do you feel better for that?” Ben asked her in a light-hearted way as they got into their
own flat.
“Oh yes, thank you Ben,” she said, lifting her arms to put them around his neck, pecking his
lips before she pulled away and went on, “We were having a bit of a laugh at your expense,
weren’t we? And your departed mum too. I’m sorry, my mouth ran away with me again,
didn’t it? But I hope you didn’t mind. It just felt easy and fun, like I’m free to share cheeky
things with Shona now. Did you feel more comfortable around there this time too? You
didn’t seem embarrassed about the breastfeeding at all.”
Ben’s hand lingered on her hip as he smiled warmly down at her, then he slipped it into
hers as she led him around the bike toward the living room. “No, and no apology is needed.
I know how sincere you really are, in your sympathy, how we both feel that, living around
the gaps our lost parents left. But it was easier with Shona this time, maybe because you
were there, or maybe because she seemed happier. I knew what to expect too, perhaps. I
got ahead of my default impulse and reaction, so I didn’t look directly at her nursing.”
“Or maybe deep down you felt more confident you had another pair, closer to home, that
you can stare at and fondle whenever you wanted to now!” she said teasingly, breathing in
twisting her chest towards him, pushing the round plaid-covered mounds of her breasts
forward provocatively. He tried to lean forwards to kiss her, but she danced away, saying,
“Maybe not right now though. Sorry!”
“You’re right,” Ben admitted with exaggerated stoicism, “Look, shall I get that work
contract, and my hospital notes and ID stuff too?”
“Yes,” Marcie agreed, dropping his hand, “Go ahead and do that while I go for a wee. You
can stick it in an envelope or something to put in your kit bag, if you’re still up for going
straight on to the gym after a bite of lunch?”
Ben gathered his things together in the spare room, feeling a little odd about packing the
same little rucksack that he’d used the last time he’d been to the gym. He’d not even
known Marcie when he’d taken it on that fateful trip, and then she’d claimed it on his
behalf before their ambulance ride to the hospital, perhaps just as she’d somehow
inadvertently made claim on his heart at the same time. He was reminded of his gratitude
and debt to her that was at the foundation of their relationship, but that only reenforced his
own deep commitment to the breakneck-paced ride that they were still on.
He found Marcie lingering in the bathroom and could not resist reaching out to give her a
small kiss as they moved past each other, him to gather his towel and shower gel once he’d
relieved his bladder, her to get her own sports bag and a document wallet of Ben’s
paperwork. Whilst Ben waited in the living room for Marcie to finish gathering her gym
things, he started folding the last of the dried laundry, which she helped him finish off when
she returned, taking the pile that he’d made on the sofa to put away. Ben put the airer away
in the hallway, taking their bags as well. Then with Marcie, he made a final check that they
had everything, before they set off to catch the Metro to Haymarket, just as they’d planned
that over breakfast.
As they waited on the platform, they rehearsed some of the things they expected to discuss
with the solicitor. Marcie warned Ben that there might be some quite formal terms of
service that he’d need to sign, with some eye-watering hourly rates, but that was quite
normal, and she still absolutely trusted Trish McDonald’s recommendation. They were
quieter on the train and their short walk across town, but Ben felt less anxious by keeping
Marcie’s hand in his.
Once they’d climbed the stairs to the law firm’s offices, they gave their names to the
receptionist, then only had to wait a moment before a well dressed but portly gentleman
strode into the modest lobby, clutching a slim folder. He gave them warm greetings as he
vigorously shook their hands, politely introducing himself as Roland Michaels. Then he
ushered them into a small but well-lit room that looked out onto the street below, evidently
set up for meetings rather than being Roland’s own office. He asked if they’d like tea or
coffee, then confidently used the room’s phone to place their orders. If he’d noticed how
eager Ben was for another coffee, he gave no outward sign of it. Marcie thanked him
earnestly, for his time as well as the refreshments, whilst also apologising for their casual
appearance, and Ben wondered if she’d also been feeling the need for a caffeine top-up.
“It is a cliche, I am afraid Miss Tabone, but we do have interns here and they do like to be
useful. And also, you are very welcome to call me Roland. You may find me a bit old
fashioned, and old habits die hard, so please forgive me if I fall back into using your
surnames. That may explain my tie and so on too, when even here the office dress code
seems to be becoming more relaxed. But I am the only one in this room for whom that code
applies today, so don’t worry, I just want you to feel at ease. Now, Mister Osborne, Ben,
why don’t you tell me in your own words what has brought you here today?”
Ben found that the older man had indeed set him more at ease as he began to recount his
story, which was only briefly interrupted by the arrival of coffee and biscuits. He started
with his collapse in the gym and his trip to hospital on oxygen, before describing the
diagnosis by the doctors there, as later confirmed by his GP. As well as the pneumoconiosis,
Ben remembered to mention the asthma and the possible allergic reaction, also saying that
he’d had an x-ray. Roland noted down his GP’s name and the surgery’s details, and Ben
was impressed that Marcie could also provide the name of the doctor who’d first diagnosed
him, confidently stating that she’d been Sally Norman. With Roland’s gentle prompts, Ben
confirmed that he was otherwise fit and healthy, as was pretty much essential for his active
and physically demanding work. He confessed that he had tried smoking when he was
much younger, but swore truthfully that it had never become a habit. He also confirmed
that he’d not yet spoken to the HR services team that the Trust used, but had notified his
employer of his condition via the Trust’s office manager. Roland said that all sounded clear,
and assured Ben that he could pass his professional contact details on to the Trust’s people
directly.
Then Roland quizzed him about his workplace and the safety equipment in the workshop
especially. Ben explained that there were no dust control measures apart from his
disposable masks and the building’s natural ventilation. Roland asked about any training
or guidance that he’d been given by the Trust, also determining that they hadn’t performed
periodic safety inspections, nor reviewed Ben’s workplace protection. Then he was very
interested to learn that Ben’s flat was directly over the workshop, and that the doctors had
informally endorsed Marcie’s first impression that there may be a dust risk there too.
“So you have not spent a night in your own flat since you left the hospital?” Roland asked.
“No,” Ben confirmed, adding, “I’ve only been back once, this morning with Marcie, for less
than an hour, to pick up some more of my stuff. You’ve helped so much,” he felt the need to
explain, turning towards Marcie, “Going around to get things for me on your own, dusting
stuff down.”
“Now, I’d like to ask a couple of personal questions, and I hope you don’t mind. However,
because this seems wrapped up with your living arrangements, I think such questions may
come up if your case ever gets as far as the civil court, and it is best if I am clear about the
facts now. So, can you confirm that you and Miss Tabone are cohabiting now?” Ben and
Marcie both immediately agreed, then Roland ask, “And Mister Osborne, how often would
you stay overnight at Miss Tabone’s flat before you became aware of your condition, before
your hospital admission?”
“Erm, never,” Ben admitted, “We’ve only just started our relationship. I didn’t even know
Marcie before. We met because she saved me at the gym.”
Roland gave a short laugh of surprise, then immediately apologised, “I am so sorry. But that
is wonderfully romantic. Well, congratulations to you both on your new arrangement, and
may I offer my sincere best wishes to you both for your shared future. I admit, I had
assumed that you had been a couple for much longer, and I guess that is a credit to your
confidence with each other and your manifest compatibility. I know that one is more
impulsive in one’s youth, and that young people today don’t stand on ceremony, but the
two of you have both surprised and impressed me. Well, congratulations again, and thank
you for your honesty.”
“Will it make a difference, to the possible claim I mean?” Ben asked anxiously.
“No, not at all,” Roland immediately reassured him, “From what I have heard so far, you
have a very clear and strong case. Though I think you are the youngest client that I have
seen with pneumoconiosis, I have had many successful settlements on significantly weaker
grounds, and I have every confidence that yours will go through smoothly. I will contact the
Armstrong Trust directly to start the ball rolling formally, though I will confirm the details
in my draft letter to them with you before I send it. Once they have that, I imagine they will
agree to an independent safety audit, and with your permission, I would like to recommend
that that includes your former living space. I also expect that I will gather statements from
the doctors whom you have mentioned, and perhaps the consultant, once you have got
around to seeing him, or her. But at the end of the day, we know that the dust from your
work has got onto your lungs and already done its worst there. Please rest assured that the
law stipulates you are owed fair compensation for that. May I ask about your immediate
plans, and if you had any expectations about the value of a payout of this kind?”
Ben explained that he’d been signed off work on the doctor’s sick note, and Roland checked
the employment contract that Ben had brought to see if the Trust offered more than the
minimum statutory sick pay. He confirmed what Marcie had said about them having a duty
to adjust Ben’s role as he could no longer do the work that he had done previously.
However, he thought they might offer Ben redundancy, and if so, he should consider two
months pay to be fair as he’d worked there for five years, reassuring him that this would
not affect his claim. As Ben explained his vague plans to retrain and find another profession,
Roland confirmed that he was thinking along exactly the right lines as a return to his old
profession was unlikely, and that the potential financial compensation should be seen as
his means of support whilst he did that.
Roland concluded, “So though the courts recognise a well-established scale of payouts
according to the nature of the injury, you might hope for a figure that’s equivalent to
something like two years of your current income. It’s not like winning the lottery, I’m
afraid, and this isn’t your pension that will support you for the rest of your natural life, but
I hope you can see that it is meant to tide you over until your earning potential has risen
back to something like its current level.”
Ben said he understood, gripping Marcie’s hand and looking into her eyes, which seemed to
offer her encouraging warmth even as they gave away her anxious sympathy.
Once Roland was confident that they didn’t have more questions at this stage, he went on
to describe what else might happen. It seemed he’d already investigated the Armstrong
Trust’s status as a charity, so he expected that a relatively large cash settlement would
need to be authorised by the board of trustees as well as the management council. However
he explained that he still expected them to agree to award the compensation out of court,
especially as this would keep their legal fees down. He confirmed that Ben’s costs would
have to be paid once the settlement was reached, but that this was a legally stipulated fixed
amount.
That led him into a brief discussion of his formal recommendation to take insurance to
cover those fees in case of a loss, and then the wider discussion of his firm’s terms of
service. He pulled two copies of a contract from the folder that he’d brought for Ben and
Marcie to look at, then he asked Ben to confirm that he still wished to engage his services,
before asking him to sign both copies. As he gathered his copy back up, he confirmed that
Ben had brought in some photo ID and an appropriate letter with his old address too. Then,
once he’d checked Ben’s passport and council tax bill, he asked if could also take copies of
all the paperwork that he’d brought in, before making another call to the intern, who
popped in a moment later to take Ben’s documents to the photocopier.
As the young man closed the door behind himself, Roland made a gesture to his own tie and
remarked, “See what I mean? An open shirt collar! I would never have dreamt of such a
thing when I started, forty-odd years ago. But if we are done with the official business for
the time being, may I ask, Miss Tabone, did Ms McDonald say you’d dipped your toes in the
waters of this profession yourself?”
“Well, in a way,” Marcie said, turning to Ben to give him a quick smile as she released his
hand and sat back, as if checking with him that it was okay to relax into small talk, “I
studied law at Manchester, but then I ended up sort of sliding sideways into academia, with
a computer science master’s and now an information science PhD.”
“But I believe I remember Ms McDonald saying you currently have a supervisor in the
university’s law school?” Roland probed.
“Had, I’m somewhat relieved to say,” Marcie corrected, “You know that it doesn’t always
work out between a PhD student and their supervisor? Well, it had become completely
dysfunctional between Professor Richard York and me. I have a second supervisor on the
library staff who supports me on behalf of the School of Computing, but she’s been much
less involved with my studies. You see, I had been working on an ontology for criminal
cases, correlated against legislation.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Roland admitted, having briefly thanked the intern for
returning Ben’s paperwork while Marcie had been talking.
“In information science, an ontology is just a description of the way things relate to each
other. A taxonomy is a specific example, where each thing is organised in a hierarchy,
classified as a type of something else. For an ontology, there might be other relationships
that aren’t just like ‘an X is a Y’. So for example, one piece of legislation may supersede
another, or one case may include indictments against multiple laws. Once you’ve laid down
the rules for those relationships and so on, the software programs can use the ontology to
analyse the data in a more intelligent way, to help search it or maybe to answer natural
language, or plain English, questions about it.”
“I think I see,” Roland said, picking up on this quicker than Ben had managed, “It sounds as
if you are trying to find a way to map out what every law student learns, and what every
barrister should carry around in their heads, in a way that a computer can understand.”
“Yes, that’s pretty much what I’d been hoping for,” Marcie agreed, “But now that I’m
unable to use what my supervisor was carrying around in his head, I’m not too sure how to
complete my work.”
“Well if criminal law was his specialism, maybe your work would actually be enhanced by
looking into another area. I’m biased of course, but there are lots of other interesting
curiosities in contract, employment and tort law, for example. It’s not always as black and
white as criminal prosecutions. It sounds as if your ontology might include a taxonomic
classification schema, and my specialist areas certainly have a whole zoo of legislation to
marvel at, or get lost in, with new species popping up or quietly going extinct all the time.”
“Yes, you’re right of course! I should be thinking sideways, not just blindly sticking to plan
A. But maybe you’ve hit on something,” Marcie said with rising enthusiasm, “Maybe I could
go right back to that original exemplar of a taxonomy and compare the structures in the
field of law to the natural organisation of species in the fields of zoology or botany. I’d need
to look for a supervisor from the natural sciences rather than the law school, but maybe I
could consult an expert who’s closer to home.” Ben realised that she was beaming across at
him, “You know lots about different species of trees with their Latin names and their
families, don’t you?”
Ben laughed, then realised that she was serious. “Aye, I could help with that,” he agreed.
“Well thank you, Roland,” Marcie said, smiling back at the old lawyer, “It seems you’re able
to offer great advisory services to struggling research students as well as those seeking
workers’ compensation!”
“You are most welcome, my dear,” he replied with a light laugh, “I’m only sorry now that I
cannot pretend it was on the clock! But it does sound like a fascinating area. It seems as if
you are at the forefront of something that might transform my profession within this new
century, digitising it and automating it, just as computers have done for all those other old
trades like publishing, draftsmanship and all that bookkeeping that accountancy clerks
used to do. I am not sure if I am sorry that I won’t see it come to pass or glad that I will be
getting out just in time!”
“Oh, there will always be a demand for professional lawyers,” Marcie reassured him, “My
hope is that computers and something like my ontologies will just be like a prosthetic aid to
help you all work more efficiently and effectively. After all, professional accountants
haven’t gone away just because everyone can use a spreadsheet now.”
“Too true. Well, I wish you the very best of luck with that, along with everything else,”
Roland added. Ben recognised he was finally wrapping up their meeting as he went on,
“Though I am sure that no luck is required for either Mr Osborne’s case or your new shared
home life. I must say it has been a delight to meet you both, and I am most glad that Ms
McDonald pointed you in my direction. I will be preparing a correspondence for the
attention of the Armstrong Trust straight away, and I expect I will have that draft letter
ready for you to check early next week.”
Chapter 25
Roland checked that Ben had all his documents, then led both of them back to the reception
area before shaking their hands again and saying goodbye. As they got back to street level,
Marcie said that she guessed he’d given Ben a lot to think about, to which Ben agreed, then
she suggested they find somewhere for a bite of lunch. Ben wondered if they could find a
cafe doing an all-day breakfast, thinking that might settle the conflict between his residual
fatigue and the jittery effect of all the coffee. Marcie thought they could find something
suitable in one of the side streets nearby, saying she’d go along with his plan so long as
they had a loo that she could use, as the coffee had obviously had its effect on her too.
They found a place that met all their needs easily, claiming a pair of seats in the window
that they could squeeze into even though the place was busy with the lunchtime crowd of
city centre workers. Once he’d confirmed Marcie’s order, Ben insisted that he would pay as
he went to join the queue, reminding her that he still had her change from last night’s
round of drinks anyway. The woman who took his order reassured him that the kitchen
would get straight on with it, even though the team at the counter were busy fixing up
other customers’ takeaway sandwiches.
When Ben got back to their seats, just with a Coke for himself and a sparkling water for
Marcie for the time being, she excused herself, checking that he’d look after their bags
while she was gone. Ben only had a moment to reflect on what Roland had said, and work
out the much smaller issue of calculating if he’d paid back Marcie’s change from the bar
last night, before she was back and asking how he really felt about meeting the solicitor.
“Erm, reassured, I guess, like I’m doing the right thing, and he seemed confident the Trust
would pay,” Ben began by saying, adding, “Roland seems experienced.”
“Yes, I agree,” Marcie confirmed, “I sense there was a ‘but’ coming, though.”
“I don’t know,” Ben wavered, “It was just, well, about the money. I do okay as a tree
surgeon. Did okay, rather. It’s more than a gardener gets, or a sawmill operator, I guess. I
could retrain, maybe get certified as something like a crane operator, if safety at height
counts there too. But it seems like finding a job, you know, that pays the salary I’m on now,
it may take a long time, or maybe I’ll never get there.”
Marcie took his hand, raising her other to his face to stroke his cheek and encourage him to
look her in the eye. “No one knows what the future holds, Ben,” she said earnestly, “Maybe
it will be a long haul to study and find new skills. I know all about that, five years and
counting into my PhD. On the other hand, maybe this is the start of a new chapter, and
something is just around the corner. You might be the estate manager at Cragside in two
years’ time, with a salary to match. Or maybe you will settle into being a gardener, with a
bit less coming in but still enjoying working outside with growing things and all that. But I
think you said you’d felt a fair wind, maybe an angelic force, lifting us both into a positive
future, together. Can you take comfort from that, despite the uncertainty?”
“Well, that’s kind of just it,” Ben tried to explain, getting to the root of his anxiety as he
dropped his eyes again, “Being together, it means sharing everything, doesn’t it? It means
we’ll end up linking our finances, deliberately or not. And I’m saying, despite the payout
Roland mentioned, my financial prospects aren’t great.”
“Oh Ben, you’re so thoughtful,” Marcie said, gripping his hand as she lifted his chin to smile
with warmth and care into his eyes, “But it’s okay. I’d not got that far myself, but you are so
right,” she went on, gripping his hand in both hers, jigging them about as she looked down
herself now, “Money can be such a sticking point for couples. It’s much better to talk about
it, and keep talking about it, to be deliberate, just as you said, in our decisions about who
pays for what, when, and about how much they spend. That doesn’t mean we share
everything, or even set up a joint account. But if we’re a strong couple, and if we want to
stay that way, we recognise we’re in the same lifeboat, in the same hot air balloon. We float
or sink together. We don’t just stand by if one of us starts slipping down, and we don’t
decide to let all the air out, waste all the gas, whatever, just because we feel like it, when we
know the other, or both of us, might need it later.”
“Thank you,” Ben said soulfully, staring down at their hands again too. he added, “I just
didn’t want you to feel locked in, that you’d hitched yourself to a dud, when I couldn’t be
sure of money coming in.”
“Hey, look at me,” Marcie said sternly, “I love you, Ben. You’ve told me that you love me.
We’ve agreed that we’re a proper couple. That means we share, and we help each other
when we need to. We’ve not made any vows, ‘for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in
health.’ But that’s already what we’re doing, isn’t it? I’ll be there at your bedside when
your eager and virile, and I’ll also be there, Heaven forbid, if you’re ever in hospital again.
So if you are still in, you can be sure I’m in too, and I’ll help, when you’re earning pots of
money just as when you’re not.”
“Thank you, again,” Ben said apologetically, “I do love you, Marcie, truly. We are making
ourselves into a proper couple, you’re right. We’ve said that, with witnesses, and what we
did yesterday, twice, that really helps, like it cements our bond, joining us in union, making
us one.”
Ben paused as he’d seen the woman who’d taken his order weaving through the cafe with
two plates of food and had caught her eye. She reached their window bench-table, with a
smile and an apology for the delay, putting the bacon and egg half-stottie down in front of
Marci and the full English in front of Ben. She told him that his came with a mug of tea or
filter coffee. Ben was happy to have the tea as well as his Coke, offering to come to the
counter to get it, but she reassured him that she’d bring it over.
As they both eagerly tucked in, he went on with what he’d planned to say, “I want to be
responsible with you, to share responsibility for what we spend. It could be uncertain for a
few months yet, for me, but I’ll pay attention, I’ll share, and we can keep talking, like you
said.”
“Good,” Marcie said with satisfaction as she attacked her oversized sandwich, going on to
suggest, “We can link this up with the other admin stuff as we slowly work through it
together. Now it sounds like we’ve agreed that we’re still sticking to this, so maybe over
the next month or so you’ll be wrapping things up with your flat. And as you close down
accounts with the utilities companies, merge your address to mine for council tax, maybe
update your address for credit cards and so on, we can check what’s left that you’ve got
going out.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, “Then I’ll see what’s still coming in, to compare to your ins and outs, so
to speak.”
Marcie smiled, saying, “That’s exactly what I was going to say, but maybe without
squeezing in any saucy double entendres. So we decide then what our shared and personal
budgets are, if you want to take over with paying some of the bills. Or maybe we’ll just
agree to transfer the difference to the other’s account each month. Alternatively, we could
set up a joint pot alongside our own current accounts that we both pay into, then use that
for food and shared fun things like our meals out. Would a bank let us do that, do you
know?”
“I don’t,” Ben admitted, pausing as he thanked the cafe proprietress for bringing his tea
over, “But maybe we’d use a joint credit card, then pay it off each month.” They both
chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then he added, “Erm, I admit, I didn’t do this properly
before.”
“How do you mean?” Marcie asked, with mock suspicion as she arched one dark eyebrow
with a smirk.
“I was thinking of Phoebe, do you remember me mentioning her?” Ben began tentatively,
“We didn’t talk about money really, and I was spending a lot, we both were, I guess, going
out and all that. She’d end up paying for things, like when I was short. I’d pay her back, or
try to, but it sparked arguments too, and I wound up with bigger debts. I don’t want that
again.”
“But you were both much younger then, right?” Marcie said, chewing thoughtfully.
“Aye, when we started. And it finished, what, three and a bit years ago? And to be honest,
last week seems a lifetime ago. It feels like I was just a boy, with Phoebe I mean, playing at
being a grown-up. I feel different now, with you, Marcie, like I’ve learnt what’s important,
like I’m stronger with you.”
“Well I hope we can still play too,” Marcie said, with a slightly concerned look in her eyes.
“Aye, I think we’re doing okay at that,” Ben laughed quietly, “Despite the car crash that’s
been thrown at us. We’ve found games to play with Roddie and Vixen, and you’ve let me
into your private magical kingdom.”
“Shush, Ben, don’t talk about that here!” she said in an urgent low voice, slapping his hand
with the back of hers as she seemed to blush a little.
“I was talking about Narnia, children’s books! What’s wrong with that?” he teased.
That mention of Ben’s reading reminded Marcie that she’d encouraged him to join the
public library, and she pointed out that this was the ideal opportunity to do that. They were
not far from the central City Library building, and he already had some identifying
paperwork with him. Also, though they’d finished their meal now, and agreed that they
both felt fortified and restored by it, they agreed too that it seemed sensible to give their
stomachs some time to digest before they hit the gym. So once Ben had visited the toilet for
himself, they left the cafe, Marcie making sure that Ben had his folder of important
documents safe in his gym bag, then made the short walk under the overcast spring sky to
the library’s landmark concrete building.
Ben knew it vaguely, but Marcie seemed more confident of finding her way around, as she
was clearly a regular visitor, despite having a whole library of her own in some senses, in
her job and at home. As they went through the doors and made straight for the desk, she
remarked that some people found the stark sixties concrete architecture ugly, but she
admired its utilitarian and modernist sense of presence. Once they got someone’s attention,
she let Ben take charge as he explained that he was here to join, confirming that he had
photo ID and proof of his Newcastle residency. As the librarian took his details, he said a
little shyly that his personal arrangements had actually just recently changed. The librarian
seemed a polite and patient man, who did not mind taking down the details of Marcie’s flat
as Ben’s new address at all. However, he did warn Ben that it wouldn’t affect any other
local authority records, so he would need to contact the city council separately about
updating his address for council tax especially.
Once the librarian had given Ben his newly printed membership card, the man asked if he’d
like to know how to use the catalogue or if he wanted any other information about the
library services, but Marcie confirmed that she could help with that. As if to demonstrate
this, once they’d thanked the man, she took Ben straight to a computer terminal, suggesting
they look for that BBC recording of The Lord of the Rings that she’d mentioned. Ben saw
how she found it and confirmed that it wasn’t on loan, but then she noticed that it was only
available on request, so she went back to the desk to ask about it herself. It turned out that
it was available, and for just the same charge as any other audiobook, but as it came in a
special box with so many CDs in it, the library staff didn’t want it out on the shelves.
While they waited for the librarian, who’d stepped away to find the box set in the staff area
that was evidently used for all their valuable media discs, Ben browsed a display that was
promoting study skills, then idly picked up something with an abstract flower design on the
cover. He saw it was titled The Mind Map Book, then as he riffled the pages, it fell open at
an intriguing sketch of what seemed to be an apple tree with words written into it. Ben
asked Marcie if he could borrow the book too, and she scoffed at him a little for asking her
permission, saying that he could borrow whatever he wanted to, now that he’d joined the
library.
Ben tried to defend himself, saying he’d only asked because he thought Marcie might have
known about the book or what it was in it. She admitted that she did, as it happened, but
she’d let him make his own mind up about it. She told him that she thought some of the
author’s ideas were sound, but that Ben should perhaps pick and choose what he bothered
paying attention to. She suggested he could even just flick through and read around any
other pictures that caught his eye. He got the impression that Marcie did not actually rate
much of what the author had to say very highly. Still, when the librarian came back with
what was indeed a large box of CDs, Ben decided to borrow the book too, as much for the
novelty of the experience as anything else.
Though it made his rucksack heavier, there was enough space for Ben to tuck everything
safely away in there as they left the library to make their way to the gym. Relying on their
mutual senses of direction, they negotiated their way over the footbridge that crossed the
dual carriageway which cut into the heart of the city, then past the Northumbria University
buildings that Marcie admitted were a mystery to her. They didn’t have to spend long on
what were unfamiliar streets before they intercepted the familiar Sandyford Road, and a
minute later they were checking into their gym, the modest low-cost institution that they’d
shared membership of for years without ever knowing of each other.
Obviously there was nothing on Ben’s record related to his collapse, to ring an alarm or
raise a warning, as he was scanned in by the uninterested member of the gym’s team who
was on reception duty. It also seemed as if there were no other staff there to recognise the
couple who had, just a few days earlier, caused what was probably just a minor drama for
them. So Marcie and Ben made their anonymous way to the changing rooms like any other
pair of regular punters, agreeing to rendezvous in the room with the CV equipment once
they’d got into their kit. Ben promised he wouldn’t try to start anything until Marcie was
there, and also that he’d make sure his inhaler was close to hand.
Once in his gym kit, he felt anxious as he climbed the stairs and went back into the same
room where he’d had his attack and, he guessed, perhaps nearly died - but for Marcie with
her timely intervention, her quickly organised response and her thoughtful care. He noted
there were a few other people already in the room, two stuck into their own routines, and a
younger man just sat on a rower, but there were still several running machines free. He
only had a moment to wait, vaguely filling the time by doing some half-hearted stretches,
before he saw Marcie coming to join him, jogging up the stairs in her snug leggings and slim
t-shirt. As she came up close and squeezed his hand, he felt reassured by the warm smile
that she gave him.
She confirmed that he was ready, and that he wanted to try out the treadmill first. He
deliberately avoided the one that he’d fatefully used on Monday afternoon, and Marcie
mounted the machine beside his. He explained that he was going to dial in just fifteen
minutes, and that he’d set a slower rate, which she agreed to, starting her own run just a
moment after he’d set off. Ben let himself concentrate on his pace and his flow, watching
the first few minutes tick away, trying not to worry too much about his breath or what
Marcie was doing. Once he was five minutes in and beginning to warm up though, he
started to feel increasingly confident that he was going to make it all the way through
without any problems. He tried to steal a glance across to Marcie, managing to catch her
eye to give her a big smile and a very quick thumbs-up. She gave him a huge beaming grin
that lit up her glowing face, which Ben found very encouraging, even as he saw it chase
away the worried concern that had been furrowing her heavy eyebrows.
They pounded on in silence for the remaining time, Ben enjoying the easy flow of his steady
pace now, making no effort to push himself any harder, letting himself breathe deeply and
steadily as he felt his sweat flow in a natural way. As the time ran out, he let himself slow
right down to spend a couple of minutes cooling off, and was aware of Marcie doing the
same beside him, until he brought things to a stop and stepped off the machine. Marcie
immediately joined him, taking both his hands in hers to look up into his eyes eagerly, her
face flushed with a healthy pink glow, with stray curls of hair sticking to her glossy
forehead.
“I’m good,” he confirmed, noting that his heart rate felt as if it had already returned to
normal. He experimentally took a deliberately deep breath, then added, “There’s nothing
there, no drag or rattle. And that felt good, easy.”
“Well, I’m really glad to hear that,” Marcie said, gripping his hands, but she seemed serious
as she looked up, her brown eyes big and round under her glasses, adding, “But please
don’t get overconfident. You won’t forget what happened here before, will you? And last
night was maybe a warning too. You need to take care of yourself, remember?”
“I remember,” he reassured her, “I know how serious it was. And I won’t forget last night
either,” he added with a warm smile, recalling her uninhibited orgasm at his mouth’s touch
as much as his own breath-stealing satisfaction. He quickly leant forwards to give her a
peck on the lips, then straightening up again before she could protest, sighing deeply as he
thought of his good fortune. “I’ll stay safe,” he reassured her, “You can trust me. I’ve found
sanctuary in your den, burrowing down there with you. It’s our private home together, and
I won’t jeopardise that.”
She gave him an odd look, perhaps knowing he was being suggestive and trying to warn
him off saying more, or perhaps trying to take on the persona of a responsible adult when
she really wanted to giggle like a teenager with him. After a pause, frowning in
concentration as she dropped her gaze and looked around the room, she gently let go of his
hands and said, “Okay. So what else would you normally do here? Free weights? Fixed
resistance machines? Floor work on the mats?”
“Erm, after cardio, three of four circuits on the equipment, usually, twenty reps on each,”
Ben admitted.
“Let’s do it then,” Marcie said positively, “I’ll act as your partner, like I’m spotting you, and
you’ll lighten the weights significantly now, right?”
Ben agreed, and happily went back downstairs with her to take turns on the presses and
lifts for all those muscles in their upper bodies and legs, Ben showing Marcie some moves
that she didn’t know. She joked at how much lighter they had to set everything for her,
flattering Ben about his strength even when he was knocking twenty percent off his usual
load. After three circuits, they agreed they’d done enough, especially as Ben had proven
that he was putting no stress on his heart or lungs. Marcie then led him to the mats for
some cooldown stretches, and this was her turn to show him techniques that he’d not been
in the habit of following. He found himself impressed by her suppleness as she sat on the
floor, folding over her straight leg to reaching for her toes, or as she stood and simply slid
her hand down her back, pulling her elbow up behind her head. He could appreciate her
athleticism, as well as the direct and simpler appeal that her feminine curves had for him,
as she actively encouraged him to look at her thighs, hips, waist and chest while she
stretched.
She ended up having to shoo him away to the men’s changing rooms to have his shower
and get dressed, telling him that she’d see him again at the spartan seating beside the
vending machines in the lobby. As Ben quickly undressed and took his shower, he felt very
pleased with the way that the session had gone, for his own health as well as the pleasure
he took in Marcie’s company. He hoped that she’d be reassured that he could exercise
safely on his own now, especially as he suspected he might have a lot of time on his hands
in the near future, keeping himself busy whilst she was at work. But he also hoped that they
could exercise together again soon, and that she could witness his steady return to fitness,
even whilst he kept himself safe, just as he’d promised.
Ben found Marcie waiting for him as he left, dressed as if ready for work now. She must
have packed her smart trousers and a more feminine blouse with her gym clothes before
they’d left to meet the solicitor, Ben realised. He thought she’d made the effort to tidy her
hair too, as its firm waves seemed more tightly pinned back now. He also noticed that she
still had some of the healthy glow from their moderate exercise routine, adding to his
impression of her health and fitness as she rose to greet him, her back straight, reaching
her hand out to take his.
“You look nice,” he said, taking her hand, aware of how lame this expression was even as
the words came out, “You look fresh, professional, elegant. Are you all set for work
already?”
“Oh, yes and no, I guess,” she said as they headed for the door, “My shift doesn’t start until
five, and it’s less than a ten minute walk from here to the library. It’s only twenty minutes
from the flat, so if we pop back, I’ve still got about an hour before I need to set off. I just
thought I’d smarten up now, then I can get straight there.” They’d already turned towards
Jesmond Road, and Ben realised Marcie was intending to head back to what he was
beginning to think of as their home now. She added as an afterthought, “Though probably
no one would have minded if I’d turned up in my jeans.”
“So what do you want to do? Back at the flat, I mean,” Ben asked.
“I don’t think we’ll have time for that! And anyway, I’ve just got clean,” Marcie said with a
giggle, leaning in as if to speak confidentially to him, even though there was nobody else
nearby. Ben was surprised and a little excited as he realised where her mind had
immediately gone, even though he’d not meant to be suggestive.
“It was an innocent question,” he protested, though he knew his smirk gave away his real
desires. Remembering the scene back at the flat as they’d left it, he added, “Erm, there’s all
my stuff we dumped. You could help me start sorting it, maybe.”
“Hey, I was going to say that I’d make some space on the bookcases for your things,” she
started to say as they negotiated a busy crossing, “I don’t think your books will need much
space, but your CDs will nearly double my collection, and you can put your sketchbook and
things on the living room bookcase too. But I was going to say that I wanted to sort through
my books first to make the space. I hope you don’t mind, but it’s a librarian thing, I guess. I
don’t want you to try moving things around on the shelves on your own.”
“Aye, I understand,” Ben reassured her, “You don’t want me messing things up, screwing
up the order, or your catalogue or whatever.”
“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand as they kept walking, “I guess that’s part of living
with someone though, isn’t it? Maybe I just need to learn to put up with things that might
wind me up, that might mess with the inflexible routines that I developed to be self-
sufficient since I’ve been living on my own.”
“No, you don’t have to put up with anything,” Ben tried to convince her, and himself too
perhaps, “We said at the outset, didn’t we? That we’d be honest. Tell me if I’m winding you
up, and I’ll try to fit in with your habits. I want to, to really live with you, to share your life.
That means making it work, together. I don’t want to just live alongside you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, Ben,” she replied, giving him a kind smile, “And you must tell me if my
habits are winding you up too. But I know it can be difficult to change your routines, to
change one’s routines, to change the patterns of behaviour that make us who we are. You
must still feel able to do everything that you would do if you were on your own, in your
own place,” she paused as if considering this before adding, “Except for the obvious, like
bringing strangers home to turn them into your new girlfriends.” Ben tried to interrupt to
protest that he wouldn’t, but she went on speaking steadily, perhaps already knowing that
would have been his response, “No, I need to learn that if I want to share my home with all
the good things that there are about you, then I need to accept the whole package, with
those cute little tics and niggles too.”
“Have you noticed some already then?” Ben asked, feeling a little worried and self-
conscious now.
“Well, yes, but nothing serious. There’s the way you give those little coughs or like a low
throat-clearing noise regularly, but I guess you can’t help that. Then there’s the way you
pick your nose, or just sort of put your thumb up one nostril and quickly pinch it. And you
do seem to need to adjust your genitals fairly often, or maybe just check they’re still there,
but maybe that’s just what all men do.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, genuinely surprised, “I’d not really thought I was doing any of those.
You notice so much.”
“I know,” Marcie said, squeezing his hand again, perhaps to comfort him as she glanced up
to give him a big smile, before clarifying, “I mean, I know you do them unconsciously, and I
know I’m nosy enough to notice little personal details too. But I can see they’re just
automatic actions that you don’t think about, the way they happen so quickly. Don’t worry
about them.”
“No, I shouldn’t pick my nose or hold my balls in public,” Ben said firmly, making an
internal resolution to try and notice his impulses to do these impolite things, to catch
himself before actually starting the action.
“Hey, it’s not all bad. You don’t seem to leave the toilet seat up,” Marcie joked.
“Aye, well if you’re tall, you don’t want to pee standing up, at least not into a regular lavvy.
Even if your aim’s perfect, the splashback can be something awful. It can make a mess
really quickly, and then you’ve got to mop it up. I’ve learnt it’s better to just pee like a girl.”
Marcie dropped his hand to give him a playful punch on the arm, “Hey! You made that
sound like a bad thing. Us girls have got enough to put up with without boys looking down
us for not having some weird directional hose thingy to wee through!”
“I thought you quite liked my weird thingy?” Ben pleaded, with mock sorrow.
“Well, of course, and you should know very well that I want to have a lot more fun and
games with little Roddie O,” Marcie said with exaggerated primness, taking Ben’s hand
again, “But that doesn’t mean I want one of my own, does it?”
“I’m glad,” Ben admitted, “I think if you said you did, like you felt transgender, I would feel
pretty awkward, like it would strain our relationship.”
“Hey, you don’t need to worry about that,” Marcie reassured him, glancing up with a
twinkling smile, “We’re a boring hetro couple, aren’t we? We know what we like, and what
we like is about as traditional and basic as it comes. And if we’re talking about being a
boring stereotyped couple, let me ask if you’d thought about tea tonight?”
Ben admitted he hadn’t, but immediately volunteered to cook something that they could
share when Marcie got off her shift, suggesting cottage pie as something that he knew how
to make which would keep warm in the oven if she was late. Marcie said that sounded
delicious, but had to check that he’d thought of vegetables too. They agreed he’d get some
cabbage ready, then put it on when Marcie sent him a text to say she was on her way home.
As they were approaching Acorn Road on their route back to the flat anyway, they popped
into the supermarket there together to get the things Ben needed, choosing a bottle of wine
too, “Just in case,” as they both agreed.
Chapter 26
When they got into the flat, the clutter that Ben had brought into the cosy space was
obvious, from the bike in the hallway to the boxes and bags piled up in the spare room’s
open doorway. He apologised for it all as they took their shoes off, but Marcie dismissed his
worries, telling him to stop fussing as they went through to the kitchen.
Then, as they unpacked the shopping, she said “If you want to know how I honestly feel Ben,
it’s like it’s a thousand times better to have you under my roof, sharing my life with you
and a bit of clutter, than it is to have the flat to myself and just my own stuff all nice and tidy.
I could have every book that I’ve ever read or could wish to read, in first editions and
colour coded, with enough tailored clothes to wear something beautiful and different every
day of the year, and it would all mean nothing at all. My life would be worthless. But with
you, with our shared love, we could live in rags on someone else’s junkyard, and I’d still
feel blessed, greeting each new day with joyful hope and wonder at its riches, going to sleep
content and sated.”
Marcie was cuddling up to him now, putting her hands around his waist as he closed the
fridge on the minced beef and wine. He turned to hold her head in his hands, smiling as he
said, “Don’t go too far. You can have your books, and beautiful clothes. And also some days
might be dull, or difficult.”
“I know that really,” she said, after she’d let him kiss her briefly, “But I do feel different
now that you’re in my life, as if the world has suddenly gone from black and white to colour.
Or maybe it’s as if I’ve stopped just looking at someone else’s flat newspaper photograph
of an adult lifestyle, and now I’ve started walking around in the real thing instead.”
“Maybe that’s like my new world,” Ben replied, wrapping his arms around her shoulders
now as she raised her hands to his back, pulling the two of them together as they clung to
each other. “I was being smutty, sexual, when I said Vixen was the portal, that my rebirth,
into that secret magical fairyland, was happening through your vulva. But the magic is real,
isn’t it? It’s the clean air blowing through the everyday world, making life more hopeful.”
“But you were right, Ben. Sex is part of that too, surely? And it’s not smutty or dirty, you
mustn’t think of it like that. We’re grown-ups now, we know what we’re doing, we know
how our bodies work, how we both have urges and how it feels to satisfy them. And we’re
doing that, expressing our natural sexual impulses, just with each other, in a healthy and
kind way. We’re honest with each other too, with sincere mutual respect, and it’s all
politely private. Well, mostly,” she corrected herself with a giggle, “Just between the two of
us. We can talk about anything, and we’re already doing almost as much as we can imagine.
So that just means our bodies are in synch with the rest of us, with our hearts, our thoughts,
our senses, our hopes and our inner sense of our true selves too.”
“Right, our whole selves, together, making love,” Ben agreed, tenderly kissing her again.
Marcie gave a contented sigh, rubbing her hands firmly down his back. Then, finding the
loose hem of his t-shirt, she put them against his bare skin, stroking her fingertips up his
spine to his shoulder blades. For his part, Ben lowered his hands to her sides, running them
over her ribs, then brushing the edges of her breasts where they softly pressed against his
own chest, warm and yielding under Marcie’s blouse and bra.
They kissed again, in long and deep contentment, Ben parting his legs to push his hips
against Marcie’s lower belly, already feeling himself rise for her, and she wriggled herself
against him in response. As Marcie kept rubbing her hands over Ben’s well-toned back, he
squeezed his hands between them to find the buttons of her blouse, following his
instinctual impulse. She held on to him, still kissing, even as she pulled her chest back a
little, giving his big hands space to work. He quickly slipped open the first button, then as
he moved down to release more, he noticed the exciting sensations of his hands brushing
over the heavy mounds of her breasts.
Marcie may have felt some similar stimulation as she gave a kind of shiver, but then she
suddenly broke off from their kiss to sigh again, looking up into his eyes sorrowfully as she
rested her hands on his waist. “Oh, I’m sorry to be the one to say it, but we can’t carry on
with this now, can we? I can feel where this is going, where I want it go, where I want you
to go right now specifically, coming up firm inside me on the kitchen top, just you did
yesterday. But I’ve got to head off to work soon, and I agreed that I’d help you to make
space for you to tidy some of your things away.”
Ben smiled down at her with a calm happiness, cradling her head again, holding the tightly
tamed curls of her thick dark hair in his big paws, as he said, “It’s okay.” He looked down
from her earnest eyes to her chest, where he could see he’d revealed the deep groove of
her cleavage between the lace-trimmed cups of her ivory-tinted bra. He knew that he felt
no disappointment, as he’d not genuinely expected their fondling to go any further, but he
did feel grateful that Marcie had let things go as far as they had. He’d remembered the
hammer that he’d wanted to give her too, imagining it lying between the rising swell of her
breasts now, as he said, “I’m glad we’ve had a quick cuddle, to be honest, that you let me
sneak something in, a tiny bit of undressing, a peek at your bumps. But it reminds me, there
was something specific I hoped you’d make space for.”
Marcie was looking at him with quizzical suspicion now, asking, “What is it? Is this another
of your secret desires that you’ve been waiting to share?”
“No, well, kind of, maybe,” Ben admitted, dropping his hands and stepping out of her arms,
explaining, “Just let me get it from my bag.”
Marcie followed him through the living room to stand in the hallway as he found the right
bag in the spare room, then quickly located the small box he was looking for in the
rucksack’s pocket. He was pleased to see that she seemed intrigued, and also that she’d left
her blouse gaping open, as he ushered her back to the living room to sit on the sofa next to
him.
“It may not be suitable, you may not like it, but I thought this might replace your pendant,
the cross I’m wearing, as something for you to have instead, while I’m just borrowing
yours. But I want this to be a gift, for you to keep,” Ben tried to explain, “And I saw your
other chain, the one with the cross on, which you showed me last night, before we went out.
I thought this could go on that.”
“What, Ben? What are you talking about?” Marcie asked in confusion, even as she smiled
with eager curiosity.
He opened the box and pulled out the silver hammer on its black cord, holding it out to
Marcie in the palm of his hand so she could see its angular but smooth-edged head on its
tapering stem, marked by a few star-like diamond shapes pressed into the polished silver.
“It’s Mjölnir,” he explained, “The hammer of Thor, the Norse god. I wore this a lot, back
when I was really into metal. A friend of my brother made it, from silver. It’s like one found
in Lincolnshire, a Viking one, about forty miles from my dad’s farm.”
“Wow! That’s a really special piece,” Marcie said, taking it respectfully to hold in her own
palm as he passed it over. As she wound the cord around her other hand, she noted “It’s
heavy too. It must be valuable. Are you sure want me to have it?”
“Aye, I’m sure. It’s a gift,” Ben reassured her, adding, “Anyway, I didn’t pay jeweller’s shop
prices. Stu sold it to me roughcast, telling me how to buff it up myself.”
Ben was delighted when she put it on straight away, lifting her elbows high to tie the cord
behind her neck. He saw how the familiar lump of silver rested on the mole-flecked tan skin
of her sternum, not quite falling between her breasts but seeming to lead his gaze down to
her cleavage, still exposed by her parted blouse.
“Well thank you, Ben. I really like it, and I’m sure that I’ll wear it often. I’ll try it with the
chain too, but the black string is just fine too,” Marcie said, smiling warmly at him as she
patted the hammer then grasped both his hands. She rose onto her knees on the sofa as she
leaned forwards to give him a tender peck on his lips, and Ben noticed how the pendant
swung forwards as she did so, along with her breasts in the satin cups of her bra as her
blouse hung open.
“You’ll wear it for work now?” Ben asked, just to confirm his guess as she sat back. He’d
already released her hands and was taking the edges of her blouse to button her up now,
acting spontaneously to reverse his previous impulsive action.
“Yes,” Marcie confirmed, taking his chin gently in her hands as she smiled, letting him
continue with his careful effort to make her modest and decent again, adding, “It will
remind me of you, as a little part of your past and your craft that I’ll carry with me against
my skin, close to my heart. But you’ve upped the ante now, haven’t you? We’d been
pretending that I’d just loaned you my Nanna’s Maltese cross, but I realise now that it’s
already yours, isn’t it?”
“No!” Ben protested, “That’s not the deal, that’s not why I gave you the hammer, as a swap.
I wanted you to have it, but I can’t take your special charm from you. I’ve just been holding
onto it, for good luck while I got better.”
“It’s already decided,” Marcie said with finality, pulling away from Ben and standing up,
now that he’d finished restoring her buttons, adjusting the fall of her blouse over her
shoulders and the cord of the necklace beneath it. “My Nanna gave it to me at my first
communion, and now I’ve given it to you at our initiation into our new relationship.”
“Well, thank you. I don’t think I’d realised, erm, how precious it was, how long you’d had it,
until now,” Ben admitted, feeling a little humbled. He looked up and took her hand as he
solemnly promised, “I’ll cherish it.”
“And I’ll cherish your Mjölnir too, if that’s what you called it. I hope it doesn’t mean
everyone will now think I’m into black metal Rotting Christ or whatever it was though?”
she queried with a sly smile.
“No,” Ben reassured her, rising to his feet too, gripping the closed box that still contained
his old cufflinks, admitting, “But they might think it’s a neopagan thing, like you follow
Ásatrú or something.”
“I’d better look that up then,” Marcie said, lifting the pendant from beneath her blouse to
look at it again, saying, “Neopagans believe in a spirituality that’s rooted in the natural
world, right? That doesn’t sound too bad, but I don’t want to be carrying a symbol for
something I don’t understand. It might be disrespectful.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Ben said, “I wore it just because I was into metal, those bands from
Norway especially, and no one said anything to me. You could mention the Lincolnshire
find, like it’s an archaeology thing, if you wanted.”
“Or I could just say it was a gift from my lover,” Marcie said coquettishly as she began
moving around, picking up their gym bags.
Following her lead, Ben took his bag from her, popping the clothes that he’d exercised in
into the washing machine with hers, filling the detergent’s dosing ball from the bottle
under the sink while Marcie looked for more dark laundry. When she came back with a
dirty bundle and saw the cupboard under the sink open, she suggested she get rid of her
carrier bag collection to make room for his tools under there. Then, once he’d started the
machine, he followed her to the living room to look at the bookshelves together. She was
quickly sorting through some of the books, moving them between shelves, then taking
some off to put into a stack in Ben’s proffered hands.
“There,” she said with satisfaction as she finished working along the shelves, Ben now
balancing dozens of paperback books, piled from his cupped hands to his chin, “We can put
your ship in front of the little paperbacks left on that shelf, and you’ve got a whole shelf
down there for your books and any other bits and pieces. Just stack your CDs on the floor
by the stereo for now, and we’ll sort out some space for those tomorrow. Now, can you
carry all those to the spare room? We’ll pile them on the desk for the time being, and I’ll
see if I can clear a few more shelves in there for your clothes, just until I’ve had a chance to
go through my wardrobe properly. Then you can move your stuff into the bedroom, so you
can feel more like we’re sharing and it’s your room too.”
Ben was impressed at her systematic approach, moving things around her as she stripped
out another great stack of books in the spare room, this one of thicker academic tomes. As
the time came around for her to set off for work, she’d doubled the number of free slots in
the shelving unit.
“If you get the chance while I’m out, you could put the piles that are on the bedroom floor
onto the desk with these,” Marcie suggested, “That will clear some space in there at least,
even if it looks like I won’t be working in here for a while.”
“Thank you,” Ben said, aware that he may be repeating himself, “I realise you’re making
some big sacrifices to accommodate me, literally I guess.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Ben,” she said tenderly, “We’re building our new shared life
together, remember? It seems as if we’re doing that by piling stuff up like Zain and Cal’s
Lego bricks right now, but really we’re fusing two personal worlds into one new one, aren’t
we? I’m not sorry if it ends up looking different from my old home, because you’re in the
picture now, and I feel as if there’s hope and life in that future.”
“I do too, Marcie,” he tried to reassure her, holding out his arms to embrace her to him,
“We’ve jumped in at the deep end, haven’t we? But we’re both good swimmers, I think. For
me, it’s like I’m ready for this. I’m sorry you’re picking up my pieces, in a way, but it’s just
like you say, we’re building something new together now.”
“Hey, it doesn’t feel like that, like I’d scraped you off the floor of the gym because you’d
fallen and broken there, like Humpty Dumpty. We’re being lifted up together into the open
air, isn’t that right?”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, “On the wings of love.”
“Oh, I really have to be off now,” Marcie said sadly, giving him a squeeze before letting him
go, “Thank you too Ben, for being you, for being in my life, for sharing this new love with
me. I’ll text when I’m on my way home,” she said as she found her jacket and picked up her
satchel, then gathered things into it with Ben following her around, “Once I’m back we’ll
have a lovely tea together with a glass of wine, and maybe play some more cosy relaxing
games, like the pair of nature-loving mammals that we are, snuggled up together in our
den.”
Ben agreed to all that, grinned broadly at her suggestive remarks, as she slipped her shoes
on. He thought to ask if she’d be okay walking home on her own after her late shift, and she
reassured him that she knew how to keep safe. Then, after a simple peck on the lips, she
was out of the door and gone.
Ben suddenly felt bereft as he turned away from the closed door to face the flat on his own.
For a moment he thought of putting on his own shoes and chasing after Marcie, just to be in
her company a little longer as she walked to work. Then he thought of walking out later, to
meet her outside the library when she came off her shift, perhaps making a surprise of it by
not texting or phoning to tell her of the change of plan. But he knew there was lots to do in
the flat too. He wanted to make things as nice as he could for her return, by cooking their
tea, by putting the washing out to dry, on the airer in the bedroom now he guessed, and by
tidying his stuff away as far as possible. But he wanted to demonstrate his self-sufficiency
too, to prove to Marcie that he wasn’t making himself dependent on her, and that he had
fulfilling things to do, independently and on his own in their shared home.
He started by moving those piles of books from the bedroom floor as Marcie had suggested,
carefully lifting them around his awkwardly placed bike to put them down in just the same
order on the spare room’s desk. He risked moving the pile of Marcie’s papers too, and her
laptop, arranging them between the stacks of books so that she could sit at her computer to
work, in theory at least, even if the desk was hopelessly overcrowded. He checked that the
weeping fig, which had been alone on the desk when he’d first arrived, was still getting the
light, and that its soil was moist. Then he set to quickly unpacking his clothes, piling them
onto the empty shelves with some kind of order. He arranged his spare boots and shoes
under the desk, stuffing the empty bags on top of them, and leaving space to slip his
concertina file of precious paperwork under there too.
He felt things were looking better already as he took out the model ship that they’d chosen,
lifting it from its nest of cushions in the crate, then carrying it onto the shelf that Marcie had
set aside for it. He tossed those cushions onto the sofa too, though they looked a bit cheap
next to Marcie’s tastefully embroidered ones. Then he took his own meagre pile of books
and folders from their cardboard box to set them up on the living room bookcase, thinking
they looked a rather ridiculous and motley collection alongside Marcie’s ordered ranks of
novels, chunky travel guides, glossy large format art books and reference hardcovers. He
added the book that he’d borrowed from the library and his sketchpad, then made a
bookend from a stack of CDs which included the boxed BCC recording that he’d also
borrowed, balancing his pencil case and watercolours on top of them. It did all look a bit
untidy, he felt, but at least it was out of the plastic crate, which also gave him a reassuring
feeling that he had genuinely moved in. That just left his toolbox, shoe cleaning kit and drill,
which he swapped for the pile of carrier bags under the sink, just as Marcie had suggested.
As he left the crate on the floor in the spare room and swung the door to, he idly wondered
if she might want to use it, along with the plastic bags and the empty cardboard box that
he’d left in it, to gather some things up for storage, as they’d briefly considered.
He knew he’d already been making himself useful, so he decided to brew a cup of tea and
think about starting some kind of independent little project, just as he’d intended. Once in
the kitchen though, he saw the short time remaining on the washing machine, remembered
the shoe polish he’d just stashed away, and thought to clean Marcie’s boots as he’d
promised. It seemed like another useful small task that he could fit in before the machine’s
cycle finished.
He remembered her boots were still in the bathroom, where he’d taken them off for her
last night. He brought them through to the dining table, setting himself up by laying out
some old newspaper that he’d found, then bringing the brushes and polish through with
his mug of tea. He unlaced them, then worked conscientiously around their toes, heels,
uppers and shafts, firmly brushing a good deal of black polish into the soft leather. The
washing machine had beeped and his tea was cooling before he’d even started to buff them
up, but he didn’t mind making a thorough job of this. He thought his task felt as if it was, in
some small way and at a symbolic level, a demonstration of his respect and commitment to
Marcie, as well as something that simply made practical good sense, to take care of what
must have been quite pricey leatherwork.
He felt satisfied with his work as he finished up, loosely rethreading the laces, parking the
shining boots beside the sofa, then tidying everything up and taking the bits through to the
kitchen, along with his empty mug. He washed his hands in the sink, then emptied the
washing machine, setting the clothes up dry on the airer in the bedroom. He noted that
Marcie had put her darker underwear through the cycle with their gym kit without any
special care, including the bras and tights that he’d left out of yesterday’s wash, and he felt
that was a small lesson he’d learnt for his future help around the flat right there.
He’d also been looking out over the houseplants and flowers into the backyard as he’d
been sat with the boots at the dining room table, and he’d decided to begin experimenting
with some kind of design for that neglected space. He took his sketchbook and pencil case
from the shelf where he’d just put them, and laid them out on the table, once he’d cleared
away the smeared newspaper. Following his intuition, he picked up the book from the
library too, before going to his toolbox in the kitchen to find his tape measure. With this in
his hand, along with a pencil and a torn-off scrap of paper, he fetched his sandals from the
spare room, slipped them on, then opened the back door to begin taking some
measurements of the backyard.
He looked up at the late afternoon’s overcast sky as he filled his lungs with the fresh air,
hoping it would stay dry for Marcie’s walk home, before he began working his way around
the brick walls with his tape measure. He thought he could hear sounds from Ali and
Shona’s kitchen, perhaps as they got their early tea ready, but he didn’t try looking up or
catching their attention. It took barely a couple of minutes, and then he was back inside,
stepping out of his sandals and bolting the back door. Back at the table, he started making a
scale sketch of the space with his ruler and pencil, scribbling down the copied figures for
the real dimensions. He blocked out one corner of the plan for the shed, guessing at its size
as he placed it between their bathroom and the wall onto the back alley, but then he felt a
bit stuck for ideas.
He idly opened The Mind Map Book, flicking through it as Marcie had suggested. There
seemed to be numerous introductions and so on, but once he’d moved past those, he
quickly got to grips with the structure of the chapters, grouped into divisions and
interspersed with full-page images. Without even stopping to read anything, he could see
lots of numbered lists and diagrams, with bullet lists at the start of each chapter. He still
picked up some keywords, as phrases seemed to leap out at him, giving him the impression
that things like ‘radiant thinking’ and ‘the power of images’ were important. As he rapidly
turned the pages, searching for the sketch of the tree that had first caught his eye, he
realised this was just one example of a much simpler type of sketch, the mind map of the
title. Even from his quick glance over the words and pictures, Ben got the sense that the
authors rated imagery, doodles and highly stylised single words over neat, well structured
formal writing, which seemed encouraging.
He set the book aside and began making his own spider’s web of words in the corner of his
plan, just as he’d seen in the book’s diagrams. He wrote down ‘backyard’, ‘boys’, ‘tree’ and
‘climbing’, but then thought he’d started going about this in the wrong way. He turned over
a fresh piece of paper and, instead of writing the word, made a crude outline of a stylised
tree trunk, then added some stick figures up in its branches. Then he thought of the colours
in the book, and went to get his paints, along with a brush and a glass of water, picking up
one of his books of trees for reference too.
He was pretty sure that he’d wandered off what a mind map was meant to be now, as he’d
added sketches of leaves and flowers, as well as different trees’ signature silhouettes and
figures to represent everyone living in these two flats. He’d coloured some of the botanical
sketches with washes of green, brown and grey, dabbing yellow and pink highlights on the
apple and hawthorn blossom, turning the lights on to see better as the daylight faded
outside. With almost meaningless words like ‘rough’, ‘weight’, ‘spring’, ‘log’, ‘climb’ and
‘compost’, along with the names of tree species, scattered around the page with doodled
embellishments, it was all a bit of a mess. However, Ben figured that did not matter if this
was meant to be a process, a way of playing with ideas, rather than a well-composed piece
of art to be admired.
Turning the page on its side to use the empty space that was left around his damp little
sketches, he tried again to sketch the outline of the backyard. This time he tried making a
perspective drawing though, with lines for the back walls of the flats with their windows
rising from the tapering L-shaped plot. He tried sketching some espalier trees against a
trellis on the neighbour’s wall too, wondering how long it would take to train the right
variety of apple trees to grow that way.
Suddenly the flat’s phone started ringing, making Ben jolt in surprise, turning one line into
a lightning bolt scribble. Composing himself quickly and wondering if it was Marcie, he
picked it up.
“Hello? Ahem. Marcella is in house?” he heard an old woman’s voice say in a thick accent,
with the rough throatiness of a lifelong smoker. He guessed straight away who it might be,
realising that he felt glad to be able to speak to Marcie’s famous Nanna in person. He hoped
her English wasn’t so bad that they’d be unable to communicate.
“No, I’m sorry, she’s not here. She’s at work,” he said, trying to speak slowly and clearly,
“May I take a message?”
“No, no message. We talk later. Your name, ahem, Benjamin?”
“Yes, I’m Ben. Has Marcie told you about me?”
“Yes, yes. I Thea, Thea Tabone. I Marcella’s, ahem, big mother, yes?”
“Her grandmother, yes. She’s spoken of very highly of you. She calls you Nanna. I’m
pleased to speak to you.”
“You calls Nanna also. I pleased speak also. You, ahem, you be sick?”
“Yes, I’ve been having some troubles with my lungs, with my breathing. I was in hospital.
But I’m getting help now. Marcie has been a very big help too. She’s really made it all okay.”
“Sorry, ahem, I talk English sick also. You okay? I prayer.”
“Yes, I’m doing very well really,” he confirmed a little awkwardly, not sure if she was really
telling him that she’d been praying for him, nor whether it would be bad manners to thank
her if she had, as he’d learnt it was when someone said, “Bless you.” Instead he said, “Your
English is very good. I’m sorry I speak no Maltese. I will ask Marcie to teach some to me.
She’s just taught me one word so far, ‘Saħħa’,” but then Ben remembered that Marcie had
also used the word for good health as a kind of goodbye too. He hoped Nanna Thea didn’t
think he was trying to end the call.
“Yes, saħħa! And you holiday Malta, yes? Malta sea, fish, very good.”
“Yes, I’d like to visit Malta with Marcie. I’d love to see the island and eat fish by the sea. I’d
very much like to meet you too.”
“Yes, you meet Nanna. Very good. Saħħa!” Ben realised she was indeed ending the call now,
and perhaps felt a bit of guilty relief about that too.
“Okay, bye then. Bye, bye, saħħa!”
“Addiju, saħħa!” she repeated, and with that, hung-up.
Ben breathed out a sigh of relief, which also perhaps expressed some kind of awe. He’d
actually spoken to the grand old matriarch that Marcie had mentioned so often, who’d
chosen the little cross that he wore to give to Marcie when she was still a girl, on her special
holy day. As he thought about it, her voice being carried from that small island, maybe
closer to Africa than Europe, directly to this phone in northerly Newcastle, it seemed
almost as miraculous as her faith in the power of prayer. He touched the cross under his t-
shirt that had passed through her hands before Marcie’s, and hoped that he’d be able to
fulfil that intention that he’d just shared, to visit Malta and meet her in person.
But the phone had also brought him back to the here and now, as he realised he wasn’t
sure how much time had passed or whether he might have missed a message on his own
phone. He found it, and though no one had been trying to contact him, it was definitely time
to start getting on with the lengthy preparation of his planned cottage pie.
Once he’d propped the back door open and closed the living room door, keeping his phone
handy, he began methodically working through the things he needed to do. He peeled and
boiled the potatoes, chopped and fried the onions and garlic with the mince, then added
tomatoes, herbs and seasoning before relaxing a little, letting the sauce reduce while he
waited for the potatoes to cook through for mashing. He found the ovenware dish that
Marcie had used for her pasta bake which she’d made on his first night in the flat, hoping it
would be large enough. Once he’d mashed the potatoes, spread them over the cooked meat
then grated some cheese over the top, he got some cabbage chopped and into a pan of
water, then began tidying everything up.
When he was content that the kitchen looked tidy again and the smell of frying had
dissipated as much as possible, he closed the back door and went through to the living
room to clear his little mind map art design project away, then set the table, keeping an eye
on the time. He knew the pie needed to be in the warmed oven even before Marcie’s shift
finished, but he still had half an hour before then, so he set an alarm to remind himself.
He decided to put some music on and continue reading Marcie’s precious Narnia book. He
selected something from Marcie’s CD collection pretty much at random, choosing an album
because the title, Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea, seemed relevant. He kept the
volume low to ensure Shona and Ali’s family weren’t disturbed, even though the music
seemed like it had a loud style. Then he relaxed on the sofa as he sank into the story of Lucy,
Edmund and the others, struggling a little as he ploughed through the dated and stilted
dialogue between the siblings.
However, he felt shocked when Edmund met the unpleasant queen, and hoped he hadn’t
offended Marcie by comparing her to the sly and scheming character that Lewis described.
Still, he liked the sound of Edmund’s hot, sweet and creamy drink, and he also wondered
again at the author’s suggestive mind when the queen told Edmund that her home lay
between two hills. He could almost see the tall pale woman with her seductive red lips
gesturing to a pair of low round mounds, rising from the landscape, veiled under white
snow.
As he read on, he began to realise how mean Edmund’s character was becoming too, yet he
found himself strangely sympathetic for the boy. Just as he’d empathised with Lucy’s
innocent joy, he felt he could recognise and sympathise with Edmund’s petty frustration
and his impulsively spiteful reactions. He was clearly behaving in a selfish and cruel way,
but Ben could see that the boy was also cowed by the arrogantly superior Peter and mature,
sensible Susan. Ben understood that the boy was trapped by forces that he barely
understood, and if he felt fearful or depressed by that, he didn’t see why others should
blithely go about enjoying their naive happiness. Ben realised that he felt bad for Edmund
rather than just disliking him, and he wondered if that was the author’s cunning intent. He
also felt, even as an adult, the force of Lewis’s moral lesson, hoping that he’d not behave
like Edmund. He knew how it felt to be resentful of others’ authority, and to badly want
something that had been snatched away from him, even as he recognised that others may
think worse of him for his desire.
He was interrupted as he read, first by his reminder to put the pie in the oven, then by his
phone. He eagerly answered Marcie’s call, though she was just confirming that she was on
her way and would be home on time. She asked if he’d been okay on his own, but told him
to tell her everything when she got back, assuring him that she could almost smell his pie
already. He’d put the book away though, and was just making some instant gravy, when he
heard the front door opening, then Marcie calling out her joking, “Hi honey, I’m home!”
Chapter 27
“Hmm, that smells delicious!” Marcie announced as she strode through the living room.
Ben put the spoon he’d been stirring the gravy with down and reached out his arms to
catch her embrace. She gave him a firm wet kiss, then clung to him as he buried his nose in
her hair, breathing in the scent of the chill night air as well as the deeply reassuring
fragrance of her familiar tangy perfume and her clean femininity. They stood there, simply
holding each other tight, Ben thinking that maybe Marcie too felt the simple yet profound
satisfaction that throbbed through him, just to be pressed close to her again.
It was Marcie who pushed away first, saying, “I’m starving! Is it ready?” Ben assured her
that it was. He asked her to pour the wine and some glasses of water. Marcie checked that
he intended to serve it at the table and that he’d got a mat ready for the hot dish. As he got
the pie out of the oven, she remarked, “It’s a monster!” Ben agreed, perhaps immodestly, as
he saw that it was still bubbling, some filling oozing out over the sides onto the tray that
he’d intentionally used to catch drips. He carried it through and plonked it down on the
dining table, then put the cabbage in the bowl to be served too while Marcie got the drinks,
finishing off the wine they’d opened on Wednesday.
As they sat down, Ben asked if the old wine was okay as he began dishing up, reminding her
there was a new bottle in the fridge too. He watched Marcie’s distant look of concentration
as her nose flared to sniff it, then saw her wide eyes catch his as she took a cautious sip,
before she smiled and declared it was fine. So he clinked his glass to hers, both toasting,
“Saħħa!”
“That reminds me,” Ben said, warily taking his first piping hot forkful, “Your Nanna
phoned.”
Marcie had her hand to her mouth as she coped with her own scalding mouthful, waving it
about urgently before she managed to say, “Oh, she’s naughty! She knew I was out at work.
She must have deliberately tried to catch you. Did you talk? Hmm, and this is great, by the
way. Thank you. It’s lovely to come home to a proper meal.”
“No problem,” Ben said by way of acknowledging her appreciation, before trying to
describe the call, “We did talk briefly. She asked about my health, and I explained that I was
getting better, thanks to you. Or I tried to at least. Her English didn’t seem very strong. She
wanted us to go to Malta too, so I could meet her, I think.”
“Oh, she is a wind-up!” Marcie said indignantly, “Her English is very good. She’s been
speaking it since she was a girl, learning it at school I’m sure, then practising it by flirting
with all those soldiers and sailors in the war. I bet she was just seeing how you’d react if
she put on the daft old woman routine. I’ll have some serious words with her!”
“Don’t worry,” Ben reassured her, “It was fine really. It was nice to make the connection.
And I would like to meet her, to visit Malta, with you, if that’s okay.”
“Of course!” Marcie said, “It’s lovely to think you’re planning ahead like that. I got a bit
bored of the same old family holidays there, so I’ve not been myself for years, but it would
be very different going back now, with you.”
“Like a proper couple, right?”
“Right, but I don’t want to encourage Nanna, after what we were talking about before.
She’d be tying a white ribbon to her front door before you know it.”
“Is that a wedding thing then, for Malta?” Ben asked, still feeling this was a dangerous topic
so early in their relationship. Yet it was also as if, in some meta way, he didn’t want Marcie
to worry that he was suspicious of her for thinking that far ahead, even if the truth was that
they were indeed both beginning to see their relationship as a possible life partnership.
“Yes, for entertaining the guests before the ceremony, when well-wishers stuff money
under their plates for the happy couple’s nest building,” she blithely replied, as if it were
fine to talk of marriage in a generic way, which set Ben’s mind at rest somewhat.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said carefully.
“Hey, don’t start thinking about going along with her plans,” Marcie told him strictly,
“You’ve seen what a sly old bird she is now.”
Ben remembered Marcie’s anxiety about her Nanna’s prayers to supernatural forces, but
he’d been reminded of another thing that had been on his mind. “Erm, thinking of
scheming women,” Ben began after a thoughtful pause, “I read some more of your Narnia
book, about the witch.”
“Oh, her! For a moment there I thought you’d spotted my schemes,” Marcie laughed,
seemingly with some genuine relief behind her joke.
“Well, I’m sorry I compared you to her. She’s a nasty character really, isn’t she?”
“Hey, we talked about this, remember?” Marcie reassured him, “Lewis had issues with
women. He probably wrote all his fears and anxieties about strong women into her,
blending them into a character that has heavy dollops of Pontious Pilot and the Devil too. If
there were ever a real person who the White Witch was based on, she could probably sue
for slander. Your version was much better, making her the magical winter queen, the fertile
goddess keeping the dormant world safe while she waits for the warmth of her summer
king.”
“So you’re still up for it, playing the witchy queen for me, goddess for our own secret
Narnia?”
“If that’s how you see me, Ben, and if that means you’re still my big strong lion, proud and
virile.”
“I’ll try,” Ben vowed, taking her hand to squeeze it affectionately, even as he took his last
forkful and eyed up what was left in the dish. He asked, “Did you want any more?”
“No, I’m filling up. Finish it if you can. You do have a big appetite, don’t you?” Marcie
remarked, smiling as she released his hand, then asking, “But do you remember what the
queen wore, if you’ve just read that bit?”
Ben thought as he helped himself to the rest of the food, then said, “Was it a polar bear skin,
or was that her dwarf? Just white fur maybe, and she held a golden wand, I think.”
“Ha! I bet it was arctic fox,” she said, then dropped her chin to look up at Ben with a
playfully bashful expression, “But I’m sorry, I’ve nothing like that to wear for you.”
“Well, I’ve not got a lion costume either,” Ben admitted, smiling, then exclaiming as it
dawned on him, “But don’t you see? Vixen and Roddie are both right there, in the sledge,
when the queen tucks her furs around Edmund, gripping the wand. It really is an intimate
seduction, Lewis’s guilty fantasy.”
“You’re right again, Ben! You’re absolutely spot on,” Marcie agreed enthusiastically, “But
that’s not that way it is with us. No one’s been seduced or manipulated or coerced, right?
And we’ve got no need to feel guilty about our natural and healthy sexuality, when I hold
your proud wand or you snuggle up in my private fur. We know it’s a magical force, a
loving source of energy that we can indulge together, celebrating our intimate communion
with enthusiasm, or simply enjoying the moments of pleasure it brings. So you’re not
Edmund,” she said, but then paused for a moment as if a thought had occurred to her,
before correcting herself, “Or then again, maybe you are, but the way he is later, redeemed,
fighting courageously with his sword in his hand, and then a king of Narnia himself. I guess
the story is really about him as much as it is about Aslan or Lucy or any of the others.”
“I’ll have to keep reading, then,” Ben realised as he put his fork down and took a slurp of
wine.
Marcie earnestly encouraged him to do that, then suggested they tidy up before refilling
their glasses. As she helped to stack things in the sink, she asked, “So, you’ve been reading,
you’ve spoken to my Nanna, and you’ve been doing some fantastic cooking. Have you had
time for anything else?”
Ben admitted he’d tidied away most of his things that they’d brought over from his old flat,
though there were still piles of stuff in the spare room. He also mentioned his sketched
ideas for the backyard that weren’t proper mind maps, which Marcie wanted to see
straight away. He got his sketchbook out, showed her the plan of the backyard and his
aborted network of words, then he turned to the page with the tree trunk in the middle,
surrounded by sketches of leaves and blossoms as well as keywords, with the walls of the
backyard rising in the spaces between.
She immediately leapt to the wrong conclusion about what he’d been trying to draw, saying,
“Oh, so you thought of putting a cut-up tree in the yard for the boys to climb on?”
“No, I’d not thought that at all,” Ben said honestly, reappraising the jumbled images and
words again. He realised straight away that her idea had been spot on for bringing his
thoughts together though, saying, “But that’s a brilliant idea. We’ve laid out felled trees for
kids to scramble on before, at Cragside I’m thinking. From before, for the Trust I mean. I
don’t know how I’d get one here though. Getting a small truck with a loader arm, squeezing
it down the back alley, that wouldn’t be a problem. But I’m not sure about sourcing a nice
thick tree trunk now. I used to chop up, erm, maybe one a month? But now, I just don’t
know.”
“Hey, don’t worry,” Marcie reassured him, squeezing his hand as he held the book open, “I
was just letting my mouth run away with itself again. The last thing I want is to give you
worries. But I think this stuff, these sketches and ideas, they’re really great and I’m really
impressed. On, I’m sorry, that sounds patronising, doesn’t it? But I really mean it. I don’t
know if it is a mind map or just art, or maybe it’s a landscape design within the severe
constraints of our tiny space, but it’s really creative and exciting. You’ve got a real talent
for drawing the details on these plants, honestly. I hope you can keep on experimenting
with your imagination and with ideas like this, really!” she laughed lightly.
“Aye, well I’m not sure myself, about what I’m trying to do, but I can keep playing,” Ben
admitted shyly.
He put the book away, then they went back into the kitchen to finish tidying up. As Marcie
began running a bowl of washing up water, she remarked that he’d obviously been very
busy while she was out. That reminded Ben of the other small tasks he’d done, including
one for her, so he mentioned, “Erm, I also hung the washing in the bedroom, on the airer,
when the machine finished. And I polished your boots for you too, in a bit of spare time.”
“Did you really?” she asked as if challenging him, her hands submerged in soapy water
while he stood beside her, meekly starting the drying up. She gave him a critical look with a
sly smile on her lips, “I guess in your fertile imagination you were hoping I’d be good to my
word, to wear them with a basque for you.”
“No,” Ben protested, “I was just trying to be useful.”
“I’m sure you were,” Marcie said sceptically, chuckling as she flicked some foam at him.
“Anyway, you’ve not told me what you’ve been up to,” Ben said, deliberately trying to
change the subject as he felt the heat of embarrassment flush his cheeks.
“Oh, there was nothing much going on,” Marcie said dismissively as she scrubbed at the
burnt-on deposits left on the baking dish, “I catalogued some new arrivals, shelved some
returns and scowled at some students. Hey, but there was something important,” she
seemed to remember, “I phoned my car insurance people. You’re a named driver now, so
it’s all legal if you want to borrow my car.”
“Wow, thanks Marcie,” Ben said, genuinely grateful for the trust and commitment she’d
demonstrated by doing that, adding, “That’s really kind.”
“No problem,” she replied, smiling as if to herself as she drained the water away, “It’s part
of the deal, isn’t it? We’re a team now. I’m sure you’ll keep safe when you’re driving. You
know how important that is now, don’t you?”
“Aye, well, thank you, again,” Ben said humbly as she grabbed a corner of his tea-towel to
dry her hands.
“And thank you for polishing my boots. Do you want to show me how they look now?”
Ben put the dried dish away and hung up the tea-towel before ushering Marcie back into
the living room to point them out, tucked down beside the sofa. She dutifully admired them,
then said, “If you like, I could wear them now, to try out a bit of playful dressing-up too. You
could open the new bottle to refill our glasses, if you’re up for that, and put a new CD on too,
maybe something more chilled than PJ Harvey. Do you like Goldfrapp?”
Ben agreed to all that, still not sure what she had in mind as she left for the bedroom with
her boots. He went to the kitchen to get the wine, returning their recharged glasses to the
table, then found the CD, replacing his previous careless choice, which had finished a while
ago. He thought to light a joss stick too, but when he realised the holder was still in the
bedroom, he improvised with a rubber from his pencil case.
He was still fiddling with this, trying to balance it so the ash would fall onto one of Marcie’s
larger bookmark-flyers, when he heard her say, “What do you think?” behind him.
He turned to see her transformed, no longer in her plain work trousers and blouse, but
wearing a short dark sleeveless dress with a floral pattern. This had a modest scooped neck
and a long line of buttons down the front. He noticed it was very tight across her bust,
though its loose cotton pleats flared out over her hips. She gave a little turn in the doorway,
so he could see how it was laced down the back. His eyes were also drawn to her legs, with
some kind of fishnet tights covering her thighs and knees between her hemline and the soft
black leather of her boots rising up her calves. He’d also noted the silver chain around her
neck, and wondered if she was wearing her cross or his hammer on it, hidden beneath her
dress.
“You look amazing!” Ben said, trying to compose himself.
“I’ve had this little skater dress for years, but I’m not sure I’d wear it out now. I’m a bit
bigger in the bosom department than I was, and I’m not so sure about showing off so much
of my chunky thighs in public.”
“You look great,” Ben said, aware that he was lamely repeating himself.
“Well, this was just the start of my idea,” she began hesitantly explaining as she sat down
on the sofa, giving Ben a cheekily twinkling smile as she patted the space next to her for
him to sit down. “Also, I’ve not released my hair yet,” she went on, holding up her hand to
wave the hairbrush that she’d brought from the bedroom, “I thought I could brush it out
while I explained my plan.”
She reached across for her glass as Ben carefully put his hand on her knee, feeling the
warmth of her skin beneath the mesh of her tights. He tentatively asked what she meant.
Sitting up straight, she cleared her throat, then took another sip of wine, as if trying to find
the courage to put her thoughts into words. Then she put the glass aside, dropped the
hairbrush, and clasped both Ben’s hands in hers. “Okay, here’s what it is. You’d said you
wanted to watch me getting undressed, and you seemed to have fun helping me with that in
the bathroom last night. So I thought we could try making a game of it, with cards, like a
striptease forfeit game.”
“You mean strip poker?” Ben said in surprise, but he knew his irrepressible grin was giving
away his excitement at the thought of Marcie’s suggestion.
“Well, maybe not poker. That doesn’t work so well with just two,” Marcie said, dropping
his hands to take a sip from her wine again. Ben left one hand gently resting on her knee as
he reached for his own glass while she picked up her hairbrush and raised her hands to
remove her hairpins, explaining, “Do you know Pontoon or Vingt-et-un, where the players
stick or draw to try and make twenty-one, or at least beat the banker?”
“Like Blackjack?” Ben asked.
“Yes, that’s the US version, isn’t it? Though there’s a completely different game that’s also
called Black Jack which is like Uno, isn’t there? Shall I explain how I was thinking our
variant might go?” Ben eagerly agreed, so she went on as she idly brushed her hair out,
transforming it into what he thought of as the now familiar yet still excitingly exotic dark
halo of soft curls, “One of us would be the player, the other the banker. We both get two
cards, then the player shows their hand. They can ask the banker for more cards, one at a
time, and that’s called twisting. They just add up the points, with court cards all being
worth ten and aces being either one or eleven. Twenty-one is the perfect score, and if they
have one ace and one court card to start with, that’s a pontoon, which can’t be beaten. If
their cards are over twenty-one, though, they’ve gone bust and they’ve automatically lost.
If they manage to get five cards without going bust, that’s a special case, which can only be
beaten by a pontoon. They can stick rather than twist, as long as they’ve got at least fifteen
points, and then it’s the dealer’s turn. The dealer turns over their cards, then tries to match
or beat the player’s score, but they can go bust as well of course. Are you with me so far?”
“Aye,” Ben confirmed, saying, “I think I remember playing this, just as a kid, not taking our
clothes off.”
“Good,” Marcie said, putting her hairbrush down and picking her glass up again, laying her
free hand on Ben’s wrist as she leaned back and went on, “So here’s my idea for how that
bit works. If the player loses, they become the banker, but if the banker loses, they have to
take off a piece of clothing.”
“Right, so the banker changes?” Ben asked, idly playing his fingers up Marcie’s bare arm
now.
“Yes, quite often, I think, because there’s an advantage to being the banker and going last
once you’ve seen the player’s score, especially if they’ve gone bust,” Marcie explained.
“And what happens if we both go bust?” Ben asked.
“It’s a draw, just like if we both get a pontoon, or five card trick, or the banker chooses to
stick on the same score as the player’s. Nothing happens then. The banker stays the same,
and no one takes anything off,” Marcie explained. Then she drew a deep breath and smiled
anxiously at Ben as she asked, “So do you think you’re up for it?”
“Aye, definitely,” Ben agreed, grinning again, “Can we play here, on the sofa, with the cards
between us? And have you already planned a way to cheat?”
“How do you mean?” Marcie asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she set her wine aside and
rose to her feet, before moving to the bookcase where he guessed she kept a pack of cards.
“Well I’m in, what, jeans, t-shirt, socks and pants, and I guess socks count as one thing. But
how many layers have you got under there?”
“What a thing to ask a lady!” Marcie teased, crashing back down on the sofa with a small
box of plain playing cards clutched in her fist. But then she seemed to concentrate, counting
things off on her fingers, before saying, “I’m only one ahead of you, I think. You can count
your belt as one too, if you like, and your necklace, if you’re wearing it.”
“Aye, but you’ve got a necklace too,” Ben argued.
“Well, we’ll just have to see how we go then, won’t we?” Marcie said primly, shuffling the
cards dextrously, then asking, “Do you want to be the banker first?”
“Okay,” Ben agreed as she dealt out the cards and handed the deck over to him. She turned
over a four and a ten, then as he twisted her a six, he realised he was in trouble. He was
briefly hopeful when he turned over a queen and a three, but then a ten ruined it for him.
He removed his socks, confirmed that used cards went to the bottom of the pack, then dealt
their next hand.
By beating Marcie in their second round he made her banker, and he wondered for a
moment if she’d have to remove her boots or her dress already. But then she beat him, and
he found himself holding the deck again. As he lost, he actually felt quite glad to be taking
his t-shirt off, as if he was really abandoning himself to the game whilst Marcie was still
fully dressed. He was aware that his heart was already beating a little faster, and his
armpits felt a little damp in his nervous anticipation, but he wasn’t sure that he was truly
sexually aroused yet.
That changed as Marcie lost to him, and then lost again as the banker. She sighed as she
picked up his winning pair and her busted collection of four cards to put to the bottom of
the pack. Then she set the deck aside and, placing a hand firmly on his thigh to push herself
up, she rose to her feet before him.
“Would you like to help me unzip this?” she asked, raising her elbows above her head and
standing so that he could see the zip that ran from beneath her armpit. Ben was a little
disappointed that the dress didn’t come off by either unbuttoning its front or unlacing its
back, but his hands were still trembling a little with anticipation as he placed one against
the cotton fabric that covered her side and grasped the zip firmly between the thumb and
forefinger of the other.
He tugged the zip down, finding that its movement became easier once he’d overcome the
initial resistance. He realised the fabric must have been very tight around Marcie’s chest,
even straining the stitching. Then as the parting opened, he could see the thick band of the
same ivory bra that he’d glimpsed her wearing that afternoon, and below that the matching
lace trim of her knickers’ high waist. Yet he was surprised not to see any sign of her fishnet
tights, seeing only her bare skin, its rich tone significantly darker than her pale underwear.
He caught himself inhaling deeply through his nostrils as she reached her arms over her
head to grasp both sides of the dress and lift it. And then he saw that she was actually
wearing hold-up stockings, not tights at all, as she revealed their tops, the thick black lace-
trimmed bands snug around her well-toned thighs, ending less than a hand’s width below
her knickers.
He realised too why he’d perhaps unconsciously inhaled so deeply as he caught the
fragrances of her body as her raised dress moved the air. He could smell the woody spiced
citrus of her perfume, the soap and deodorant of her washed skin too he thought, as well as
the clean but slightly fusty cotton of the dress itself, which had perhaps been languishing in
the wardrobe for quite a while. But he had also noticed the more intimate and arousing
scent of her body itself, in the healthy and energetic odour of her fresh sweat. He guessed
that even though she’d showered at the gym, she’d been working hard to walk to and from
her library, and perhaps she’d been active there too. The meal may have warmed her, and
she may be feeling some of the same eager anticipation that he did in playing this game, as
he was aware this had made his own armpits slick, even whilst he sat undressed from the
waist up.
But his senses were also filled by the sight of Marcie’s body before him, still in her high
black boots, with her fishnet stockings rising from them over her knees and thick thighs,
yet in contrast, her torso seemed almost naked. Whilst her knickers sat high her hips, the
rise of her pubic mound beneath her bellybutton was clear, and though her stomach was
toned, Ben could still see her mole-flecked skin bulge out slightly beneath her ribs. Of
course his eyes were drawn to the far more eye-catching curve of her breast though, still in
profile, hanging heavily in the deep satin cup of her bra.
Then Marcie turned before him, dropping her dress to the floor and squeezing her knees
between his as she deliberately stuck her chest out towards his face. Ben felt his hidden
arousal come on solidly as his gaze took her in, from the teasingly vampish boots and
stockings, pressing against his thighs through his jeans, to the much more practical soft
triangle of her knickers, their creased narrow satin covering her precious Vixen, and then
up to her breasts. Though they too were hidden in the ivory satin, with the broad lace trim
across the top of the cups diving into her deep cleavage, Ben was acutely aware of their full
round volume hanging towards him, and eagerly imagined where her hidden nipples might
be. And nestled between her breasts against her warm tinted skin was the familiar nugget
of silver, his old treasured Nordic hammer, hanging low on the long snaky chain that she’d
briefly shown him yesterday evening.
Ben looked up to Marcie’s wide smiling lips and her twinkling eyes, gazing down at him
intently through her intellectual glasses. He saw her face surrounded by her nimbus of
deeply dark brown hair, the dim lamplight reflecting off the orange wall and golden poster
behind her, framing her in warm radiance and perhaps the spirit of those eternal lovers too.
As he reverentially laid his fingertips on the bare skin of her ribs, then raised both hands to
brush the warm silky fabric that covered her soft breasts, he saw her nostrils flare as she
drew a swift deep breath herself. But then she seemed to remind herself of their playfully
serious duties as she put her hands gently on his to still them, firmly saying, “Not yet, not
until we know who’s won this game.”
“And what happens then?” Ben asked, as he found himself watching her hips and bum,
partly exposed by her delicious knickers, while she stepped around his knee and sat down
heavily on the sofa again.
“Well, I guess when one of us has lost all our clothes, the winner can decide what happens
next. They might want to take the last of their clothes off too and make love, or they may
just want to find a way to tease and wind up the loser. I’m sure you’ll have some ideas for
that,” she said with a mock shyness.
She’d already picked up the cards, and now with a calm diligence that Ben admired and
respected, which contrasted with the trembling anticipation of arousal that he felt, she
dealt their next hand. Ben twisted and went bust, but then Marcie did too, ending that
round. The next round ended in a draw too as Marcie took the banker’s prerogative and
choose to stick when her cards matched his cautious score. Ben lost the next round though,
and as he dealt the cards, he felt a kind of urgent impatience. He wanted the rounds to
quickly resolve themselves, so that he could either see Marcie stripped naked and have his
way with her, or lose all his clothes himself so that he could expose his frustrated arousal
before her, putting himself at her mercy. He was therefore glad when he went bust trying to
beat Marcie’s pair of court cards, and volunteered to take off his trousers.
Marcie reminded him that he could count the belt as a separate item of clothing, but he
dismissed that idea as he quickly stood to slip his jeans off over the bulging erection under
his grey striped boxer shorts. He felt some relief now to be in just his underwear, as Marcie
was, even as he struggled to keep himself decent, quickly gripping the fabric of his pants as
he sat down to keep his penis from poking out obscenely from beneath their hem.
He noticed how Marcie was smiling in a dreamy way as she took another sip of wine while
he dealt the next hand. He wondered if this would be the one when he definitively lost at
last, especially when he found he had to keep twisting to try and beat Marcie’s modest
score. Yet he beat her with a five card trick, and she took over as banker, thanking him as
she gently took the deck from his hand, just as if he were politely passing the salt at a
formal dinner party.
It was his turn to have a lucky hand it seemed, as he revealed a nine and a queen. Marcie
went bust as she tried to beat him, then sighed as if it were a chore to pay the forfeit, asking,
“So what do you think I should lose now? It’s between my boots, my knickers or my bra, I
guess.”
“I don’t mind,” Ben admitted as he handed his cards back to her to put to the bottom of the
deck, even though his mind was spinning at the possibilities. He knew that he’d be thrilled
to see her breasts exposed, imagining how they might move as they played cards together,
yet he knew it made more sense for her to remove those high constraining boots now. He
guessed she’d ask him to help her unlace them, as she had last night, and he knew he’d take
pleasure in that as she sat on the sofa in her underwear. Yet the thought of her taking her
knickers off while she was still wearing her stockings and boots, as well as her modest bra,
filled his mind with profoundly erotic imagery. He could imagine making love to her like
that, naked beneath her as he penetrated her, Marcie riding above him with the soft leather
pressed to his skin. Or he could visualise her parting her legs, showing him the small
groove of her vagina’s pink mouth between her tawny lips under her bushy pubic triangle,
letting him bury himself between her black-clad calves and mesh-covered thighs to bring
her to orgasm with cunnilingus, just as he had last night.
All these possibilities flashed through Ben’s mind in a moment as they looked into each
other’s eyes, perhaps both trying to guess what the other might like. It was Marcie who
suggested, “Let’s leave it to the cards. You turn over the top card,” she explained, holding
out the deck in the palm of her hand, “If it’s ace to seven, I’ll ask you to help me take these
boots off. If it’s eight, nine or ten, I’ll lose my bra. If it’s jack, queen or king, it’s the knickers
that will come off. Does that sound good?”
“Aye, it’s all good,” Ben confirmed, his hand hovering over the deck. Taking a deep breath,
with a quick glance into Marcie’s eyes, he turned over the top card and revealed the eight
of clubs.
“Boobies it is, then,” Marcie said with a chuckle. “I bet you’re happy about that,” she said
even as she put the deck down and reached behind her back.
“It’s all good,” Ben repeated dumbly as he watched her unhook herself and shuck the
straps off her shoulders. He wondered that she’d not asked him to help, and imagined that
she may also be eager to get on with whatever might come after this game. He was still
transfixed as he found himself covering his manhood in one hand as he rested his other on
Marcie’s knee, watching Marcie coquettishly lowering her bra’s cups as she held one arm
under her bust, only slowly revealing the dappled skin of her breasts and her spreading
dusky pink areolae with the creased bumps of her nipples. In only a moment she’d given up
the pretence of shyness though, as she lowered her arm to rest her hand on his and pulled
the bra away to drop it on the floor, letting him see both her heavy orbs, with the subtle
web of veins beneath the thin pale skin of their lower hemispheres.
Ben would have eagerly buried his face in her breasts at that moment, pushing his cheeks
and nose against the soft skin on either of the wide low mounds, finding her teat with his
mouth. Yet Marcie brought his attention back to the game by picking up the cards with her
free hand and waving them in his face, diverting his gaze from her chest, which she’d
obviously been aware of him staring hungrily at. “We’ve still not finished, remember?” she
prompted. He let go of her hand and leaned back a little, relaxing against the sofa more as
he lifted his other hand from his firm erection, ready to take the cards she dealt.
He quickly looked at the two cards she gave him, twisting and then sticking at a respectable
nineteen. However, Marcie revealed a pontoon, and he found himself becoming the banker
again. Realising this might be the end of the game if he lost, he eagerly dealt their cards,
then watched Marcie turn over a ten and a six. Acting incautiously, she asked to twist, but
was rewarded with a five for a perfect score. Ben turned over his own low cards, and began
to hope to beat her with another five card trick as he twisted twice, yet still only scoring
fourteen, counting his latest ace as low. But then he turned over the jack of spades, busting
his hand.
“Oh dear,” Marcie said, “Does that mean you’re going to lose your modesty? Or are you
going to say your necklace counts as an item of clothing after all?”
“No, I’m ready to lose,” Ben confirmed, handing the deck of cards to her.
“Well, you better stand up then,” she ordered with a sly smile, “At least I can help you free
Roddie from those rather indecent undies.”
Chapter 28
Ben complied with Marcie’s instruction, rising to his feet between her stocking-wrapped
knees as she set the cards away and sat forward on the sofa. He realised belatedly that
perhaps he hadn’t done such a good job of keeping his genitals hidden under his loose grey
boxer shorts after all. His erection was sticking down under their fabric currently, and Ben
looked down to see that the red tip of his penis was poking out even now as its turgid
pressure strained forwards. Marcie seemed unconcerned as she put her hands over his at
the waistband of his shorts, and then took over from him as she pulled them down in a
business-like way. She lowered them just a little, below the bones of his hips, exposing his
pubic hair, then scooped her hand under his member as she pulled the pants’ elastic out.
Ben gasped with pleasure as he felt her fingers touch him, holding him confidently as she
swiftly turned his erection around so that it poked upwards instead now.
“There he is!” she said brightly as she let go, leaving his long thick penis to stand upright
above the edge of his shorts on its own, supported just by Ben’s tense pressure. He couldn’t
help himself from letting it stick out towards Marcie’s face now, its red glossy glans
bobbing about on the end of its vein-knotted stem, as his foreskin had long since peeled
back. Marcie diligently tugged his boxer shorts down further though, letting them fall to the
floor on their own once they were over his muscular thighs. But even then, Marcie did not
lean back, instead placing her palms flat against the front of Ben’s hips to frame his
erection between her stretched thumbs and forefingers.
Ben was ready to step back a little, aware that it may not be pleasant for Marcie to be so
close to his penis when he’d not washed it since the gym. He could also see it had leaked a
little lubricating fluid in his anticipation during their game. Yet she seemed to be strangely
attracted rather than repelled as she glanced up and asked, “Come closer,” before dropping
her gaze to his head again as she added quietly, as if to herself, “I won’t bite.”
Ben guessed what she intended then as he watched her bring her nose forwards to brush
his head, or his frenulum specifically, then she extended her tongue to lick it up his shaft. In
his arousal, he twitched involuntarily at her wet touch, making her giggle, and then she
closed one hand around the base of his shaft and promptly put her mouth over his head. He
groaned as he twitched again, feeling her warm slippery lips or tongue stroking against his
most sensitive parts, but she was evidently ready for his spasm as she held him firmly yet
gently inside her wet mouth.
“Marcie, don’t!” he struggled to say, “You don’t have to do this.”
She leant back, making a kind of subtle popping noise as her sucking lips came away from
him. Ben could feel the sudden cool air on his head, now wet with her saliva, and that too
felt thrilling. But Marcie was still gripping him with one hand as she looked hopefully up
into his eyes. “I know I don’t have to,” she said, her smiling lips glistening as she added,
“But I’d like to. It’s not just payback for what you did for me last night either. I enjoy this
too. It’s exciting, and I like tasting you. But I bet you’d be more comfortable if you sat back
down, wouldn’t you?” Her hands were already guiding him as he moved around Marcie’s
knee and put his naked buttocks down on the sofa’s rough throw. “That’s it, sink back, let
yourself relax. I can do the work now,” she assured him, still sitting at the other end of the
sofa, naked from the waist up.
But she was already rising onto one stocking-clad knee, still in her tight boots of course,
making her breasts swing forwards pendulously under their heavy weight, his silver
hammer hanging down between them on her chain. She’d lowered her other knee to the
floor, and now she was on her elbows over Ben’s torso, brushing one breast against his
thigh, smiling up at him from her behind glasses and her cloud of hair even as she still
gripped his penis, holding it upright. Then Ben saw her head tip forwards as he felt her
warm mouth close over his penis again. He thought she may have been pulling down on his
shaft, making his head strain upwards as she sucked it and, as he guessed from the
explosive sensations, rolled her tongue around it. Her other hand was resting on his chest,
her nails scrabbling across his pectoral muscles over his own small nipples. Ben held her
hand there, over his pounding heart, while he reached down with his other hand to push
his fingers through her hair, finding her ear to stroke as she slipped and softly chewed
around the tumescent head of his penis with small lip-smacking noises.
He was breathing heavily with the extremely exciting sensations that Marcie was giving
him, his chest heaving up and down beneath their gripped hands, but he was aware that he
was not yet tipping over towards his orgasm. Rather, he deliberately relaxed, pushing
himself back into the sofa and wilfully keeping still, knowing that Marcie wouldn’t thank
him for trying to thrust or push himself further down her throat. He looked down, seeing
her spreading hair obscure her face and his own upright penis, but little else was visible
apart from her broad bottom, still covered by her ivory knickers, rising into the air
somewhere near his ankles at the far end of the sofa. He watched her head bobbing about,
as he kept breathing heavily yet steadily, feeling the intense thrill of the divine tickling
stimulation that her attention to his hidden manhood gave. After a short while though,
Marcie broke off, panting heavily herself to look up at him.
“Is it working? Am I doing it right?” she asked, a little anxiously.
“It’s amazing,” Ben confirmed as his chest heaved, “You’re doing an amazing job!” But he
found himself sitting up and reaching out to pull her up toward him too. He enjoyed seeing
her rise to her knees on the edge of the sofa as she crawled into his arms, her naked breasts
swinging with the silver pendant between them, her nipples pointing down. Ben raised his
fingers to touch her chest gently, brushing the dusky corona of crinkled skin around her
prominent teat as she brought her lips to his. He opened his mouth to hers, imagining her
lips and tongue around his stinking manhood just moments ago as they now pressed
against his. He thought he could taste a little of himself there, as well as the lingering fruity
perfume of the wine that they had been sharing.
Marcie squirmed over his body, pressing her soft breasts to his reclining chest now,
brushing his thighs and knees with the texture of her stockings and the hard edge of the
boots that she still wore, and still they kept hungrily kissing. But eventually they broke
apart, and Marcie looked down into his face with warmth but also perhaps a searching
need. Ben found himself asking, perhaps prompted by the tastes in her mouth, “Would you
like a sip more wine?”
“Hmm, do you think my mouth is dirty?” Marcie asked, pulling back a little to give him a sly
smirk, even as she kept pushing her naked skin to his, cuddling against him.
“No,” Ben assured her, “It’s wonderful, kissing you.”
“But you can taste your pungent savoury flavour there, yes?”
“Erm, I can,” Ben admitted, “It’s no problem. But are you sure you don’t mind, putting it in
your mouth like that, I mean?”
Marcie had obviously decided to take his suggestion to have a drink seriously anyway as
she pushed herself up to reach around for her wine. Ben let himself relish the sight of her
half-naked body, twisting and stretching as he remained recumbent, her breasts hanging
heavily from her chest, beneath the silver pendant that rested in her wide cleavage, whilst
he reclined against the sofa with his full erection, topped by its glossy head, laid out
between them. Marcie took her sip of wine and now turned back to lean over him again,
languidly brushing her nipples and breasts against his chest to his further excitement even
as she still held her glass of wine.
“No, I don’t mind, Ben,” she finally confirmed patiently, “I enjoy it, just like you said you
enjoyed eating me. Do I have a taste too, down there, I wonder?”
Ben felt a little awkward, thinking back to the vivid experience of her labia and clitoris in
his mouth, as he guiltily admitted, “Aye, there’s your body’s special fragrance, private,
intimate and arousing. It’s musky, animal, but subtle, not really like anything else. But
there’s a taste too, like a spiced meal maybe, very subtle too, like meat, well, to be honest,
like lamb and cumin specifically.”
“Holy Mary! That’s actually me you’re tasting, isn’t it?” Marcie exclaimed in wide-eyed
fascination as she hung over him, “That’s my flesh you’ve savoured, for real. I always
thought humans tasted like pork, but why not lamb’s greasy rich meat? There’s a lot of
deep religious symbolism around the sacrificial lamb too.”
“Is that okay?” Ben asked anxiously, clarifying, “I don’t really want to eat you, and it’s not
off-putting. The opposite, it’s a huge turn-on, tasting you as well as and touching you, so
intimately. It’s like I found your secret fragrance, when I kissed your Vixen. I cherish the
memory.”
“Well, I cherish your manly vigour,” Marcie reassured him, “I’m thrilled and excited to be
turning you on like that too, to be in a place of profound trust where you’ll let me take you
in my mouth. And I want to taste your semen too, properly. I want to make you spill the
whole load in my mouth, as I think they say. Can you let yourself do that for me?”
“Of course. If you’d just carried on, it would have happened,” he confirmed, his rigid
arousal still twitching in anticipation at her words.
“Do you want a sip of wine too?” she asked, seemingly changing the subject as she took a
gulp from her glass for herself.
“Aye, okay,” Ben agreed, then saw what she had in mind she set the glass aside and leaned
forwards across him, lips pursed closed and cheeks bulging even as she smiled impishly. He
carefully put his mouth to hers, pushing his fingers through her hair to cradle the back of
her head as he pressed his parted lips firmly to hers, then he felt a trickle of cold liquid
squeezing into his mouth as she released her own lips. He sucked eagerly, enjoying the
sharp acidity of the fruity booze as it slipped down his throat, even whilst he pushed his
tongue forward to play with hers as their mouths opened wider. He felt a little of the wine
escaping to dribble down his chin and then drip onto his chest as their kiss became more
careless, but it didn’t seem to matter as Marcie pulled her head back again, giving him a
huge grin as he laughed lightly and said, “Thank you. That was nice.”
“Can I do anything else to make it nicer for you, while I finish off the fellatio I mean?” She
asked, seemingly a little embarrassed to be speaking so bluntly, even as she let one hand
rest gently on his long thick shaft. She explained, “I’m not really sure what I’m doing, so
any tips or feedback would be very welcome.”
“Erm, could I see you more?” Ben asked hesitantly. When she asked him what he meant, he
tried to explain, “It felt amazing, but I could only see your hair. Could you maybe turn
around a bit, so I can see your face a little maybe, and your beautiful body? It would be nice
to see Roddie actually in your mouth, too,” he admitted guiltily.
“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Marcie thought, taking his suggestion seriously, “I could maybe go
sideways, kneeling on the rug, but then I wouldn’t feel so close to you.”
“Or you could turn right around, to put your knees up here, at my end of the sofa,” Ben
prompted.
“Oh, I see what you’re thinking of now!” Marcie said, smiling broadly as she dug her fingers
into the side of his chest to give him a rough tickle. “You’re thinking of sixty-nine, aren’t
you, you cheeky boy?”
“Aye, maybe, if you could take your knickers off too,” Ben admitted, wondering what she
really thought of the possibility.
“Oh, I can take them off,” Marcie agreed with syrupy reassurance, already leaning against
him and wriggling as she put her hands to her hips, “Showing Vixen off even while I’m still
in my boots, which you so lovingly polished. Yes, that’s very cheeky too, isn’t it?” she said
with a sparkling smile, even as she was writhing about to get her knickers over her bottom
and down her thighs, over her stockings. Ben could see the edge of her bare buttocks now
as she rose to her knees again, but nothing else, yet he still felt exciting to think of her vulva
now being exposed just above his penis.
“So you’ll let me kiss Vixen, while you’re sucking Roddie?” Ben asked eagerly.
“No, Ben, I’m sorry, but I can’t ask you to do that,” Marcie said sadly but firmly as she
arched backwards, pulling her knickers off her boots as her feet waved in the air, “I don’t
want you getting breathless again, and I don’t think it would really work that well anyway.
Neither of us would be able to concentrate on doing a very good job with the other trying to
blow their mind with arousal, or blow something anyway. Then one of us would finish first,
would come, but would probably feel like they have to carry on with their mouth for the
other one, even when they just want to relax into post-orgasmic bliss. No, you mustn’t try
to lick me if I put Vixen up by your head. But I can finish working on you very well in that
position, and you can see what I’m doing better, I think.”
So Marcie got to her feet, carefully avoiding her wineglass, and Ben got to see her clearly at
last, naked except for her stockings and boots. Her bushy vulva and beautiful breasts with
their stretched dusky pink areolae seemed exposed just for him as she stood above his own
recumbent naked body, her hourglass figure clear as she took a delicate step. His eyes
scanned down from her generously endowed chest, passed her narrow waist and trim
stomach, to her wide hips and strong thighs, tapering away into the dramatic fishnet and
soft leather. Then he looked up into her broad smiling lips and lowered eyes with their dark
lashes under her glasses as she manoeuvred herself above him, lifting one leg to
deliberately place her knee on the edge of the sofa by his head as she leant forwards onto
her elbows down by his knees.
He looked up now to see her vulva directly above his face, parted so that he could see her
soft inner lips in the shadows between her long furry outer labia, reaching up between her
thighs to the crease of her buttocks. Just the sight of her most intimate feminine place was
stimulating to him as she positioned her stocking-covered knees firmly beside his head, her
boots sticking out somewhere behind him. Then he looked down to see her breasts hanging
just above his stomach, stretched into deep U-shaped curves by their weight, their pointed
tips formed by her now protuberant areolae, with her downward-pointing nipples at their
nadir. Between them hung his hammer pendant, swaying with her breasts, and beyond
them at this strange angle, he could see Marcie’s chin, nose and lips, now parting as she
held his thick erection up in her hand.
He saw his swollen crimson head touch her lower lip as her mouth hung open, and then it
disappeared from his sight as the sensations of her warm wet lips closed around him. She
must have been sucking firmly as she rolled her tongue around his head, pushing down
firmly on his shaft again, as he felt a surge in the tingling pleasure. He panted heavily,
throwing his head back and seeing Marcie’s vulva again. In that instant, he saw it all in
awestruck wonder - the wide dark curls of her pubic hair, the creases of her parted lips and
the edge of her buttocks, and the darker short crease that was the mouth of her vagina. He
realised how close he was to that magical place that she’d confirmed was the origin of the
world, and his nostrils had now detected the clear scent of her there, making him dizzy in
his arousal, her intimate musky aroma sparking some profound reaction within the fires of
his core being.
He spasmed, making his already hard penis jerk to a new rigidity as the first pulse of his hot
semen shot from him. He heard Marcie grunt, then distinctly felt her tongue roughly
pressing on his head as her mouth held him firmly. With her hand still pushing down on the
base of his shaft, maybe struggling to bend it down a little, she now wrapped her fingers
firmly around his scrotum, gripping him. He felt one finger reaching underneath, pressing
into the crease of his own buttocks somewhere between his perineum and his anus. And
suddenly the next huge spurt of his orgasm was coming with an unexpectedly powerful
surge.
“Fuck! Marcie!” he found himself exclaiming as she kept sucking and the pulses kept
coming, wave after wave, still rolling on as he panted in sublime satisfaction.
He stared up at her in mind-numbing bliss, aware of her solid thighs rising beside his head,
her smooth stomach stretching over him, and her furry vulva parted in the shadows above
him. In that moment of his release, the literal expression of masculine essence, the pushing
out of his life-giving sperm, he felt she was indeed the supreme goddess, or the eternal
queen of the restful night, calmly receiving his wet yet fiery seed. Marcie was the living
feminine avatar of the fertile heavens that arched over him, enveloping his world in her
comforting love from horizon to horizon.
He wanted to reach up, to push his head between her thighs and bury his face in that sacred
feminine space, to kiss her labia, to lap at her vagina and to feel her ticklish hairs on his face,
breathing in that heady fragrance of her femininity. Yet as his orgasm subsided he felt
unable to move, paralysed by the exhaustion of his ejaculation. He remembered too that
Marcie had asked him not to try giving her cunnilingus while she hung over him, yet he still
wanted to share his overwhelming affection and absolute love for her in some way. So even
as she still patiently sucked on the last twitches of his full yet already softening erection,
which he knew to be oozing a few last dribbles, he begged, “Marcie, let me kiss you.”
Marcie obviously heard as she immediately began moving around. Ben heard a small
slurping sound and glanced down to see his still engorged penis fall from Marcie’s mouth.
Using her hand that had been wrapped around his shaft and scrotum, she was now laying
his manhood out gently on his lower torso, even whilst she straightened one leg, sliding her
knee off the sofa to put her boot to the floor. She pushed herself up on her hands, glancing
down at Ben briefly to give him a strange upside-down smile across her swaying pendulous
breasts, before rising on one leg and pivoting to lift her other leg over his head.
She did not pause before coming back down onto the sofa, putting her elbows beside Ben’s
chest as she laid her legs out beside his. He relished the sensation of her warm smooth skin
against his, from their thighs, past their hips with their sensitive pubic areas, to their chests
and arms, Marcie’s soft breasts squashed to Ben’s ribs. But she was already putting her
smiling lips to his, seeming pleased with herself as she let her ticklish hair fall against his
face and opened her mouth to receive his eager tongue.
He kissed her with a hunger that defied his body’s exhaustion, enthusiastically licking and
sucking her tongue, just as she had licked and sucked his firm penis only moments earlier.
He relished the distinctive taste of his semen that still lingered in her mouth as he held her
jaw gently in his hands, trying to express his love and gratitude through the tender action
of his passionate kiss.
They were both panting as Marcie pulled her head back, saying, “Was that nice then? It
seemed to work. I was worried you were going to slip for a moment,” she said quietly, so
close that Ben felt her breath in his open mouth as he let his hands stroke down her neck
then across her shoulders. Yet he listened eagerly as she chattered on, “You gave a big
twitch when you started coming. You nearly popped out, and I don’t know where your
love-snot would have ended up then. Up my nose, maybe, or across my glasses and in my
hair! It seemed to really shoot out, like I’d squeezed a carton of juice too hard. Or it would
be a milkshake, I guess, sweet and creamy thick banana gloop squirting up the straw to the
back of my throat! Could you taste it too, when we kissed? Do you mind?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, a little surprised at her crude honesty, “I tasted it, sure. But it’s
good. It’s sexy, in a way.”
“Maybe I should have held it in my mouth,” Marcie said as they cuddled, a wicked twinkle
in her eyes again, “I could have shared it with you like we did with the wine. Oh, but it
really did feel sexy, having you there, being able to eat Roddie up. Thank you for letting me
do it.”
“No, thank you, Marcie, really. It’s you who’s been so sexy. You’ve made it really exciting,
for me, tonight. When you were over me, when you let me come, it was like you were a
divine being, like your body was the whole night sky.”
“You make me sound like Nut, the Egyptian goddess,” Marcie remarked, as she pulled back
to give Ben a sceptical look, “But don’t go putting me on a pedestal or making me a plaster
saint. I’m just polite little Marcie Tabone from Manchester. You know that really, don’t you?
I’m your girlfriend and we do nice things together. I’m not your saviour, and you’re not my
self-abasing votary.”
“I know that,” Ben reassured her, embracing her to him again, “But you’re wonderful too,
helping me find wonders, in a new space, giving me a hopeful future. And talking of nice
things, can I do something nice for you now?”
“Girls might be different from boys, you know, Ben,” Marcie explained thoughtfully,
obviously quite happy to move on from her strict warning to him as she cuddled against
him, “I’ve had a nice time already. I’ve not had an orgasm, but you should know that I don’t
really need to. I don’t have that urge that maybe you feel, of a pressure building that has to
be released by spurting something out. It really doesn’t matter if we don’t both come
together every time.”
“But would you like to?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” Marcie admitted, leaning back to look down at him, “It is certainly a pleasant feeling!
But you don’t need to do anything to try and make it work for me. I can do it myself, if I just
pop to get a nice reliable toy. Is that okay?” Ben assured her it was, and she went on
planning as she squeezed herself against him, “I could do it right here on the sofa. It feels
cosier than a chilly bed right now. But maybe you could put another CD on, maybe that
Portishead again?”
Ben hadn’t really noticed when the music had stopped, but he was happy to agree to find
what might have been her favourite album. He was slow to rise though, when Marcie
pushed herself to her feet and made a quick exit to the bedroom, still delightfully naked
apart from her stockings and boots. Then he was still down by the machine, naked himself,
his limp penis hanging down as he crouched on his heels, as Marcie came back into the
room behind him. “Skip to track eight,” Marcie suggested as she collapsed back onto the
sofa with a sigh.
As the familiar music started, Ben turned to see her sitting upright, her knees together,
holding the purple rabbit that he’d seen before across them. She smiled warmly at him as
he rose to his feet and joined her, seemingly unselfconscious in her near nudity, despite her
previous trepidation about exposing her breasts to him. Ben was glad that she’d passed
beyond that shyness, which she’d seemingly felt on their first nights of intimacy together,
as she held out her arm to him, raising her breast a little as its curve swept down from her
armpit.
He fell onto the sofa beside her, snuggling up to her as she held up her sex toy. “Did you see
this one?” she asked, and Ben admitted he had. She pressed a button on it to make the shaft
wriggle with a robotic noise and she giggled before explaining, “That can be a bit awkward,
but I can just use this bit on its own very comfortably,” she added, stopping the gyrating
rod but starting the vibrating ears.
“So will you do that, now?” Ben asked with genuine curiosity.
“That’s the idea. Just let me get a bit of lube on it and then get comfortable,” she replied.
Ben saw then she’d also brought the old tube of K-Y gel and stashed it beside her on the
sofa. She wriggled around even as she popped the cap off and squirted a generous slug of it
over the rabbit’s ears, reminding him a little of what she’d done for him on their first night.
She ended up tucked beneath his arm, nestled firmly against his chest, as she spread her
stocking-covered knees wide, both hands squeezed between her thighs.
Ben could just see the way she parted her lips with one hand and brought the vibrating ears
to her clitoris, holding the dildo upside-down as he thought, its shaft sticking out uselessly
on top. He wondered then about the pointlessness of his own penis too as she made small
grunting noises, pushing herself down and shuffling about to get more comfortable. He was
eager to be attentive and close to her even if his contribution now was redundant, as he
held her to him tenderly, burying his nose in her hair while he cautiously raised his hands
to her breasts, gently brushing her nipples.
He was aware that she was breathing more heavily now as the low hum of her vibrator
continued. As he brushed one hand gently up and down her body, from her collarbone over
her nearer breast to her stomach and the edge of her pubic fur, he cupped her far breast
with the other hand, his arm reaching around her. He felt her soft, thin skin and the
crinkled texture of her areola, then carefully pinched her proud nipple between his finger
and thumb, inhaling the fragrance of her hair deeply before putting his lips tenderly to her
hot forehead. Despite his own flaccid and emptied state, he felt himself distantly aroused as
he heard Marcie sigh a long “ooh,” and then make quicker “aah” sounds as she panted.
He put his more freely moving hand to her jaw, brushing her neck and then her lips. To his
surprise, she moved her mouth quickly to bite down hard on the pad of his thumb. He held
his hand there despite the pain, cupping her chin as his other hand still held her breast
carefully, whilst she made quick wet panting breaths through her nose, muffled low
repetitive sounds still coming from further down her throat.
Suddenly she released his hand and gave a high cry, drew another sharp breath, held it,
then blew it out with a long groan, murmuring the now familiar, “Qaddisa Marija!”
But the vibrator was still going, Ben noticed. He kissed her forehead again, and he heard
her quietly ask, “Oh Ben, hold me! I want to keep going.”
So Ben tried to push himself more firmly up against her, from his hip and thigh where they
touched hers to his chest and his damp armpit against her shoulder. He held her tight, both
hands once again cradling her shuddering breasts as she sank deeper into her self-
absorbed bliss. Her panted breath was quickening again as she let the small “aah” sounds
emerge, then she seemed to make an almost weeping cry of desperation, before grunting
out a sudden heartfelt exclamation, “Ħaqq Alla! There it is, oh yes!”
The vibrator promptly stopped as Marcie seemed to go limp in his arms. Her own arm
flopped to one side as her hand tossed the sex toy carelessly aside onto the sofa, before she
lifted it to grip his hand, still at her breast. Ben noted her other hand was still resting on her
vulva, and he moved his free hand down to cover it there. He kissed her forehead again,
noticing how it was now slick with sweat, plastering her loose hairs to her tan skin.
“I’m glad I could be with you for that,” he said quietly, adding sincerely, “I love you,
Marcie.”
“Oh, Ben. Thank you,” she replied dreamily, “I was being selfish, wasn’t I? But it’s nice. I
feel so relaxed with you, it’s like I can just let go without worrying. Oh! I didn’t hurt you did
I? Nice girls don’t bite, I’m sure.”
“It was nothing,” Ben said dismissively, though his hand did still ache a bit, “I’m glad you
felt relaxed. And it’s hardly selfish, after everything you’ve done for me this evening.”
“Hey, it’s like I said, we do fun things together, right?” she reminded him, adding seriously,
“And I love you too by the way. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Aye, we’re good,” Ben agreed, cuddling up to her, burying his nose in her hair again as he
squeezed his hand over hers as it rested on her sensitive Vixen. As he thought of how close
he felt to her, in his heart as well as physically, he suddenly thought again of her Nanna,
perhaps because they’d spoken of her imagining they were already like a married couple.
That prompted him to ask, “But do you need to teach me a little more Maltese? You say
things sometimes, and I’m not sure what they mean.”
“You mean my blasphemous exclamations?” Marcie asked, “I don’t think they mean much
when I say them, apart from ‘Oh wow!’ But what do I say, ‘Holy Mary?’ That’s from the
Roman Catholic Hail Mary, do you know it? Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners.
In Maltese that’s ‘Qaddisa Marija, Omm Alla, itlob għalina midinbin.’ I must have repeated
the whole thing hundreds of times as a girl.”
“Maybe you’d better write it down, so I can learn it,” Ben suggested, adding hastily, “But
not now though.”
“Hey, you’re not about to convert to Catholicism on me, are you?” Marcie challenged,
twisting around to look up at him.
“No, that’s not why I swapped Mjölnir for your cross. I’ve got another goddess anyway, my
white witch, the queen of the night,” and he was glad Marcie chuckled with him as he
teased her, even though it was still half true. He went on, “But I’m curious, I guess. And
what’s that other thing you say, ‘Ħaqq Alla?’ Is that about God too?”
“Oh, don’t repeat that! It means ‘Damn God,’ or worse, like, ‘Fuck God,’ I guess. Your
pronunciation was good, ‘Ħaqq Alla,’” she repeated for him carefully, before going on, “But
it’s a very bad thing to say. I must have picked up from bigger Maltese kids in Sunday
School sometime when I was young, and I guess it got lodged deeply, as swear words do.”
“Well, maybe it’s not so wrong, if I feel saved through you, like I said before, with your
Vixen as my portal to a magical future, the path of rebirth, on that hero’s journey. So maybe
if Jesus is God’s son, and he was born through Mary’s vagina, then you’re right to invoke
her. Christians must believe that God’s fuck saved us all.”
Marcie laughed, making her body shake beneath his hands, then said, “I’m not sure you’ve
got that right at all! You can reimagine Lewis’s Narnia characters, but I don’t think you can
rewrite the Christian gospel like that. Saying that God actually copulated with Mary, that
he’d emitted sperm for her, would definitely be a heresy.”
“Aye, maybe I’m just talking bollocks, God’s own bollocks,” Ben admitted, making her
laugh again.
“Come on, we’re both probably past it,” she said, lifting his hands off her and shifting into a
more upright position beside him. She explained, “We need to get into bed, to sleep, and I
don’t know about you, but I’ve got to sort myself out a bit before then.”
With that, Ben finally got around to offer to unlace her boots, which Marcie jokingly
suspected was his way of revving himself up again, until he drew attention to his limp penis,
exhausted by her work on him. Once she’d laughed lightly at that, she pushed him around,
encouraging him to lift one foot onto the sofa beside her hip, so that she could
provocatively push the sole of her boot against his groin. Despite remaining literally
unaroused, his manhood flaccid as it rested against the soft leather, Ben enjoyed giving his
attention to Marcie in this position, reclining with her naked torso exposed opposite him.
He struggled to keep his concentration on her laces as his gaze kept wandering to the soft
relaxed mounds of her breasts and the long shadowy crease of her vulva, yet he still made
swift progress. Once he’d loosened the last eyelets, slipped her boot off and then dropped it
to the floor, Marcie lifted her damp stocking-clad foot over his knee to squeeze it against his
hip. At that moment Ben caught a glimpse of her inner tawny pink lips, buried in her
damply matted fur, parted and glistening before him. But then she lifted her other foot to
his groin, forcing Ben to quickly move his scrotum and penis to save them from being
squashed.
As soon as he’d unlaced and removed her second boot, Marcie swung both of her legs
around, putting one foot on the floor as she stuck her other leg out straight. She apologised
that removing the stockings wasn’t an appealing sight as the rubberised hold-up band
clung to her thigh even while she worked it down, yet Ben admitted he quite enjoyed
watching her do this, whilst noticing the creased red mark on her skin that the stocking’s
pressure had left. Thinking of this and her slightly sweaty feet, he said that he hoped she
hadn’t been suffering in her boots and stockings while he’d been having his fun, but she
dismissed his worries, reassuring him that she’d have said if she’d been uncomfortable.
Then she was finally as naked as he was, standing up now to gather up her clothes, with
just her silver chain around her neck. Though he’d have happily just kept watching her
move around like this, Ben followed her example, rising to his feet to tidy the wineglasses
away and pick up his own long-discarded clothes. He hung his jeans over the back of a chair,
then followed Marcie through to the bathroom to put the rest into the laundry basket.
She’d already started the shower, but turned towards him briefly to stretch up and give
him a peck on his lips. As she wriggled away before he could start cuddling her again, he
told her that he would pop through to the bedroom to move the airer and put some fresh
water by the bed.
He came back just in time to see her glistening body stepping from the bath, giving him the
chance to scoop up her towel and pass it to her. He moved around her to restart the shower,
stepping into the bathtub himself. While he waited for the water’s temperature to stabilise,
he tried to avoid staring as she towelled herself down. Still, he noticed her pushing her
breasts up as she dried beneath them, then squatting to part her thighs as she rubbed down
her vulva and buttocks. He rubbed his own wet body down vigorously, making a soapy
lather with his shower gel, paying special attention to his tender penis as he popped its
head out to rinse it thoroughly.
He saw that Marcie was watching him as he washed himself while she now sat on the toilet,
wrapped in her towel, braiding her hair as she had done yesterday. She smiled when she
caught his eye, and he felt more at ease for noticing her, guessing that it was all right to
have been observing the way that her naked body moved in the bathroom, if she were now
doing the same for him. Her towel remained firmly secured under armpits tonight though
as she finished her plait, then she moved to the basin to brush her teeth as Ben stopped the
shower, before he stepped out to begin drying himself. She seemed unconcerned when he
hung his towel up and stood naked beside her to brush his own teeth, giving him another
twinkling smile around her toothbrush as she looked up at him.
Once she finished and rinsed her mouth out, she said that she was going to put her
nightdress on, explaining that she still felt a bit funny about waking up in the night with
nothing on, and hoping that he didn’t mind. Ben tried to say that it was okay, that it was
fine, around his foamy mouthful of toothpaste. She gave him a beaming smile again, then
tenderly stroked her hand down his naked hip, giving his bottom a firm squeeze before she
turned away, unwrapped herself from her towel, then quickly left the bathroom. As she
moved, Ben couldn’t help but notice her breasts swaying with her nipples standing proud
and, once her back was to him, her shower-warmed pink bottom jiggling with her small
swift steps.
Ben reflected on his good fortune as he finished his teeth then took his brown inhaler. He
walked through Marcie’s flat naked, turning the lights off as he went, feeling a sense of
belonging in this space now, no doubt helped by yet another evening of sexual gratification
with the wonderfully kind and feminine Marcie, which he could still feel as a sensitive
tingling in his well-used clean penis and a slight ache in his hard-working testicles. As he
came into the bedroom and saw her curled up under the duvet in her white nightdress, her
glasses already off, he felt a surge of loving affection for her.
He quietly slipped into bed beside her and clicked out his lamp, sending the room into a
deep gloom, with just a hint of streetlights’ glow leaking around the curtains. Hoping she’d
never tire of his attention, he snuggled up behind Marcie, pressing his hips to her buttocks
as he wrapped his arm around her to rest his hand on the soft warm cotton that covered
her pillowy breast. “Good night,” he whispered.
“Hmm, yes it was, wasn’t it?” Marcie murmured back, and he could hear the teasing smirk
of her deliberate misinterpretation in her sleepy voice. Then she put her small hand over
his at her breast, as she had on the sofa earlier, squeezing it even as he held her, and added,
“I love you, Ben. Body and soul.”
Ben wasn’t sure if she meant she loved his body and soul, or if her love was from her body
and soul, or even if she knew herself. “I love you too, my white witch, my queen of the
night.”
“Hmm, sweet dreams,” she replied with contentment.
Chapter 29
Ben realised the telephone was ringing, which did not seem right if he was in bed. He
struggled to make sense of it as he came around slowly, becoming aware of the shape and
scents of Marcie’s bedroom around him. He noticed that there was only the weak light of
dawn behind the curtains, as he heard Marcie stir beside him. And still the flat’s landline
kept ringing.
“Who can that be?” he heard her moan, “Is it even morning?”
“Shall I get it?” he asked, fully awake now.
“No, it must be for me,” she assured him, rolling out of bed and staggering for the door.
Ben could hear her voice indistinctly as she pick up the phone in the living room, but then
he heard her speak his name, as if repeating it to the caller in confusion. Now concerned
that it was someone trying to reach him who had awoken them both and driven Marcie
from her bed, he urgently got out of bed himself. He heard Marcie say, “I’ll get him now
then,” as he rushed into the spare room to get some boxer shorts to put on at least.
Somehow it didn’t seem decent to take the call naked, as he’d been with Marcie last night.
Marcie found him there, saying with concern furrowing her dark eyebrows as she leant on
the doorjamb, “She said her name was Rhona, from the Armstrong Trust. She said it’s really
important.”
“Thank you. Sorry,” he said to Marcie, pulling his pants up, then he went to the living room
to pick up the handset. “Hello, Rhona? Is something up?”
“Oh Ben, thank goodness your safe,” he heard her say with a fluttery panic in her voice,
giving him an icy chill of deepening apprehension. Then his heart gave a sudden lurch as
she said, “There’s been a fire. The police called, they’re trying to reach you.”
“What? What do you mean?” Ben said dumbly.
“I’m sorry, it’s all been such a rush,” Rhona said, clearly still flustered as she explained,
“There was a fire in your workshop, in Shieldfield, last night, or early in the morning I
suppose. The fire brigade was called out, and when they realised your flat was right over it,
they called the police, to try and find out where you were I imagine. Well, the police must
have rung around a bunch of numbers for the Trust, but they could only reach old Bill, the
caretaker at Cragside. He called Doug Anderson, you know him, right? Cragside’s estate
manager? So he ended up phoning me, asking me to rush into the office to get your new
details, well, your girlfriend’s phone number and address, so that he could pass them on to
the police. I think they want to speak to you.”
“A fire?” Ben asked, feeling numb and badly shaken by Rhona’s concise and comprehensive
description of the drama. He was sitting on the arm of the sofa, and Marcie had come back
in, wrapped in an embroidered silk robe that he’d not seen before, standing anxiously at
his shoulder. He felt he owed Rhona something more, and said, “I’m sorry you were
disturbed, so early on a Saturday morning. Thank you for calling, for letting me know.”
“It’s no problem at all, Ben,” she reassured him with a kindly tone, “I’m just glad you’re
safe.”
Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door, making Marcie startle. Ben said quickly,
“Rhona, there’s someone at the door. I think it may be the police already. I’d better go.”
“Yes, you go. I hope they can help. Good luck, and we’ll speak later,” she said quickly, then
Ben said his goodbye and hung up.
He grabbed his jeans that were still on the back of the dining chair and hopped into them
quickly, explaining very briefly to Marcie that there had been a fire at his workshop and
that it was probably the police at the door, confirming that he’d speak to them. There was
another knock as he dived into the spare room to get a t-shirt, which he pulled on as he
manoeuvred around the bike in the corridor, whilst Marcie disappeared into the bedroom.
Ben was momentarily surprised to see just a middle-aged man in a casual shirt and jacket
on the doorstep, but then he noticed a younger man in police uniform behind him. He learnt
who they both were as the first man said, “Ben Osborne? I’m Detective Chief Inspector
Simon Bailey and this is Constable Ryan Walker. I’m glad we’ve found you, but I’m sorry to
say we have some bad news for you.”
“Come in,” Ben found himself saying, “Excuse the bike.”
As they followed him into the living room, Ben heard the constable’s radio come to life with
an indistinct clipped phrase. It made the situation seem even more unreal to him, as if he
were just watching things play out on the television without any control himself. Then the
constable held the radio to say, “Lima zero three, confirming with subject now, out,” which
made Ben realise there were even more people involved in tracking him down than he’d
imagined.
“Erm, my office manager just rang. She woke us up. She said there’s been a fire, at my
workshop,” Ben told the policemen as he stood awkwardly in the living room.
“That’s right,” Detective Bailey said, “We’d like you to pop over there with us straight away
so we can start getting things sorted out. I hope that’s okay.”
“Aye, erm, okay,” Ben agreed, hesitantly, aware that he needed a pee and he’d not had any
breakfast, nor done any of his morning ablutions.
But at that moment, Marcie appeared at the doorway, already dressed in the same jeans
and plaid shirt that she’d worn yesterday morning. Ben made an effort to introduce her,
saying, “Inspector, constable, this is Marcie, Marcie Tabone, my girlfriend. This is her flat.”
The detective formally introduced himself and Constable Walker again with their full titles,
and apologised for intruding and for getting them up.
“Did I hear that you’d like to take Ben over to the site of the fire?” Marcie asked, showing
her confidence with a determined business-like manner, perhaps deliberately refusing to
be intimidated by the men towering over her, unexpectedly intruding into her home, where
they could even see her underwear hanging on the airer.
“That’s right, we’d like to drive him around there as soon as possible,” the detective said
carefully.
“Is this an arrest?” she said bluntly.
“Absolutely not, ma’am,” the detective said smoothly, “We would just be very glad of
Mister Osborne’s help with our investigation, and it would be very beneficial to do that
while the fire investigation team are still on site. Mister Osborne kindly invited us into your
flat to talk to him.”
Ben could see that Marcie was quite stewed up and wondered if she’d already read things
into the situation that he was unaware of. He could see no reason why he’d not go along
with what the policemen wanted though, especially as he urgently wanted to know more
about what had happened himself.
“It’s fine,” he tried to explain, “I want to help.”
“I know,” Marcie said, quickly shooting a sympathetic and tender smile towards him,
before turning to the detective to say sternly, “But I’d like to come too, to keep Ben
company and support him if I can. Did you know that he’s just recently had some bad news
about his health, that he’s been in hospital?”
“No, Ms Tabone, I didn’t know that. Perhaps Mister Osborne could tell me about that on the
drive over to Shieldfield. You are welcome to come too of course, but I’m sorry that you’ll
have to ride in a different car. We have another one here already.”
Marcie seemed surprised at this, but Ben didn’t want to make things more awkward than
they already were, so he said, “Thank you. That sounds good. May I just pop to the
bathroom?”
He noticed the constable moving around to keep an eye on him as he went through the
kitchen, and wondered if Marcie had been close to the mark when she asked if this were an
arrest. Did the police genuinely suspect him of having something to do with the fire? As he
sat on the loo, he looked at his hands and realised he was shaking a little. He rose to wash
them and splash some water on his face, then decided to give his teeth a very quick brush
and slurp some water down to freshen his mouth, taking his lungs’ morning dose on his
brown inhaler too.
He didn’t know what Marcie and the policemen had been discussing while he was in the
bathroom, but the atmosphere was still pretty frosty in the living room when he came out.
The detective asked if he was ready to go, prompting Ben to pick up his jacket and some
clean socks from the spare room, then automatically check his pockets for his wallet, keys,
phone and blue puffer. The detective stepped outside first, as Ben slipped his socks and
shoes on in the hallway, whilst the constable hung back, waiting for Marcie, who’d now
excused herself to use the bathroom too.
Once outside, beneath the lightening sky of a clear spring morning, Ben saw the police car
blocking the street with yet another policeman at the wheel. He followed Detective Bailey,
who’d indicated one of the car’s rear doors for Ben to step into. Ben paused before getting
in though, waiting to see the second car that the detective had mentioned turning into the
street, then Marcie emerging from the flat with the constable, carrying her satchel, turning
to lock the door behind her. As Ben squeezed into the back seat, saying a brief hello to the
driver, Detective Bailey got in beside him and belted up too. They both watched through
the windscreen as Constable Walker said something to a policewoman who’d stepped out
of the other car, now bumper to bumper with theirs. She then held a door open for Marcie
to get in as he got into the front passenger seat of Ben’s car.
“All set, constable?” the detective asked, then once he’d heard the confirmation, he told the
driver, “Let’s get back to the site, sergeant.”
As the car accelerated backwards to turn around at the end of the street, making Ben feel a
little nauseous, the constable called in some cryptic message on the car’s radio, mentioning
Ben’s familiar old address. Ben observed aloud that this fire had caused a lot of trouble for
them all, but Detective Bailey dismissed it, saying, “It’s quiet this early on a Saturday
morning. This is something for the response teams to do to keep busy. But the roads
around here are quite awkward aren’t they, with those back alleys too?”
Ben realised in that moment that the detective was hinting at some subtle detail of their
police operation, that the cars had been covering the ends of the alley behind the flat while
he had come to the front door with the constable. He felt a little shaken to understand that
they’d been prepared for him to make a break for it and do a runner, as if he were a
genuine suspect, perhaps guilty of starting the fire himself. But the detective seemed
relaxed now as he turned to Ben and asked in a casual chatty way, “So you’ve been unwell,
Mister Osborne?”
“Aye, erm, it’s my lungs. I’ve got pneumoconiosis, from dust, do you know? And call me Ben,
that’s fine.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t know much about medical things. And call me Simon, too. We might
be having quite a few chats about this business over the next few days Ben, so it will be
good to keep things friendly. Your girlfriend though, Ms Tabone, may I ask if you stay
around at hers often?”
Ben wondered if Simon had mentioned Marcie immediately after that remark about being
friends as he’d felt quite a different attitude coming from her. He answered the detective’s
question honestly though, saying, “Well, every night now, since I got out of hospital, erm, on
Tuesday. But not before. You see, the thing is, she wasn’t my girlfriend before, before I
collapsed and went to hospital, on Monday. She helped out. I couldn’t go back to my flat,
because of the dust, so she put me up, erm, and then we got together.”
“I think I’m beginning to see it, and thank you for explaining that to me. So you lived on
your own in your flat above this Armstrong Trust’s workshop, right up until you were
hospitalised and diagnosed with your lung condition at the start of this week. Ms Tabone
helped you out by what, visiting you in hospital?” Ben interrupted to say she’d actually
called the ambulance to take him there too, and given him first aid while she’d waited for it
to arrive, before Simon continued, “Right, then she offered you a place to stay that would be
safer for your lungs, to help you convalesce. And somewhere in this romantic story of a
guardian angel helping out a young man who’s had some unexpected bad news about a
serious medical condition, the two of you decide to make a go of it as a couple. So you’ve
only just started cohabiting in her nice dust-free flat, abandoning your old place. But for
how long?” he asked with a sudden astute challenge, “Until you get better?”
Ben then slowly explained that the pneumoconiosis meant that his lungs were permanently
damaged and that it seemed unlikely that he’d get back to the work that he had previously
done in the workshop. He talked about the work injury compensation claim that he’d
initiated, which Simon seemed very interested in. Then he got around to explaining the
point that he’d wanted to make, which was that he and Marcie had already spoken about
terminating his rental contract on his old flat, but hadn’t got around to it yet. He tried to
stress to the detective that he saw his future as being with Marcie now.
“It certainly sounds like you’ve had an eventful week, Ben,” Simon mused as they
approached the workshop, “I can only say again that I’m sorry to have brought yet more
bad news. Stop the car here, sergeant, we can walk the last few yards.”
They’d turned the corner into the cul-de-sac that Ben’s old flat was on, and he saw straight
away that the short road was blocked by fire engines and a large red van with ‘Tyne and
Wear Fire and Rescue Investigation Unit’ written on its side. As he got out of the car, he
looked around to see if Marcie’s police car was behind them, but there was no sign of it yet.
He was aware of an unfamiliar smell on the fresh early morning air, then realised its
significance with a shock. It was like that of a dampened bonfire, with the more sinister
fragrance of burnt plastic too, and it must be coming from the site of the fire. With anxious
anticipation, he turned towards the workshop and started walking towards it alongside
Simon, with Constable Walker following them.
At first he couldn’t properly see the building around a fire tender that they’d parked up in
front of, but he was already aware that something was wrong with the profile of its roofline.
Then he got past the end of the vehicle and saw just how bad things were.
The fire had completely gutted the building, leaving an empty shell, open to the blue sky.
The front wall was still standing, but its big doorway and the window that had risen above
Ben’s bed were gaping open now, the brickwork above them stained black with sooty trails
that rose up towards the lost roof. The wooden doors and even the window frames must
have been burnt away, falling into the great mound of steaming black ash that Ben could
see through the hollow doorway. And in front of the doorway, he saw his pickup was
damaged too. Its bonnet and front bumper were marred by more than just the soot and ash,
the paint and plastic fittings having been scorched and blistered by the heat, and its nearest
front tyre was burnt away, with just blackened hoops of wire crushed against the cobbles
by the collapsed wheel now.
Ben looked back to the building to see fire crews in high visibility outfits still moving
around in its empty shell, dragging hoses or carrying equipment around the heaped embers.
And that piled mass of cooling ashes must be all that was left of everything else that was in
there, he realised. All his tools and climbing gear, all his furniture and models, all his
clothes and videos, they must have been incinerated and then buried as the roof fell in. He
imagined the floorboards beneath his rugs, beneath his bed, smoking and then catching fire,
before falling through into what must have been a firestorm in the workshop. The heavy
flaming timbers of the roof must have crashed down on top of them all, completing the
destruction.
He felt his knees go weak, and he seemed to hear Simon’s voice coming from a great
distance, “Hey there, Ben! Take it easy.”
There were strong hands under his arms as he sank to the floor, sitting down awkwardly
on the cold curbstone. He was gasping for air, his breath seeming to fail him, and he
realised this was maybe another asthma attack. He scrabbled in his pocket for his blue
inhaler, popping its cover off carelessly to take a deep breath from it.
Simon was squatting down before him while someone else, perhaps Constable Walker,
supported his back with a firm hand. “Are you okay son? Are you still with us?”
Ben nodded as he took another good puff on the inhaler. He was aware that his cheeks
were wet, and suddenly realised that tears had been streaming down his face. “My stuff, all
my stuff. It’s gone, isn’t it?” he said, choking a little as he wept in his breathlessness.
“But you’re safe, son,” Simon said firmly, “That’s the important thing.”
“I thought it was just in the workshop, it was just a fire in the workshop. I didn’t know it
was the whole thing,” Ben said sadly, sniffing and wiping his face ineffectually as his
breathing slowly returned to normal.
But then he heard a familiar voice behind him, crying out, “Oh Ben! Are you all right?” He
turned to see Marcie running towards him, then she was crouching down beside him to hug
his shoulders as the big constable respectfully stood back.
“I’m fine, Marcie, thank you,” he said as she pecked at his wet cheek with a kiss, “I was just
shocked, surprised. Look at it! It’s all gone!”
She was rummaging in her satchel, finding a pack of tissues, then pulling one out to hand to
Ben. But she was turning toward the detective Simon with a fierce expression. “Why didn’t
you say?” she asked in a sharp accusatory tone, “You could have warned us, warned Ben
that it was this bad. You deliberately didn’t say anything, am I right? You wanted this, you
wanted to see his reaction, didn’t you?”
“Now, Ms Tabone, let’s keep calm and take things slowly,” Simon said, raising his hands as
he rose to his feet and stepped back.
“Keep calm and take things slowly?” she shot back with venomous scorn, rising to her feet
herself. “You were all for getting things moving as quickly as possible when you barged into
our flat. And keep calm? Is dumping a surprise like this on a sick man any way to help
people keep calm? I’m sure your constable arranged something with the sergeant in my car
too. I swear we took a wrong turn deliberately, so you could have more time on your own
with Ben. I should make a complaint about your conduct.”
“And that is absolutely something you have every right to do, Ms Tabone,” the detective
replied smoothly, keeping calm as he let Marcie’s fury roll past him, “But please ask
yourself, would that help Ben now? Wouldn’t it be better if we all just had a calm chat
together about what happened last night and what happens next? Perhaps I have kept you
both in the dark a little. Well, the truth of it is that the fire investigation team believe this is
arson, as you might have guessed. That is a serious criminal offence, especially when it
might have put Ben’s life at risk. That’s why I’m here and why I’d value some help from
both of you.”
“We can help, Marcie,” Ben said, taking a slow breath as he rose slowly to stand up
unsteadily too, “This is bad, maybe just bad luck. But I can get through this, with your
strength. We can use that strength to help, not argue. Simon’s just the messenger.”
“Simon, is it?” Marcie said sceptically, holding Ben’s arm firmly and looking sternly at the
detective. “You’re right, Ben, but I still think it was a mean trick. And you’re not just the
messenger, are you detective chief inspector?” she said with a challenge, even as her initial
rage was cooling, “You engineered this situation, you planned things out this way when you
arranged to pick up Ben. You wanted to know, to see for yourself, I’m sure of it. If it is arson,
then your first suspect is the owner, or whoever benefits from an insurance pay-out, isn’t it?
You wanted to test Ben, to see if he was genuinely surprised when he saw what had
happened, or if he was going to try and bluff you. Well, I hope you’re satisfied.”
“I just wanted to bring Ben over to meet the fire team as quickly as possible,” Simon said
with practised composure, “Why don’t we all go and meet lead investigator now? And
would you like Sergeant Khan to keep us company, Ms Tabone?” he asked, indicating the
policewoman who’d followed Marcie from the car that had brought her.
“No, I don’t think we need to waste any more of her time, thank you,” Marcie said with a
grudging smile, obviously understanding that there may have been some protocol about
accompanying women in police care. She added, “And you’d better just call me Marcie, if
we’re using first names now, Simon.”
“Good, let’s go and find Clive then, or Fire Investigation Officer Clive White, if you will.”
Marcie checked that Ben was okay, relaxing her grip on his arm, resting her hand tenderly
on his shoulder, before Simon led them toward the blackened gaping doorway of the old
coach house and Ben’s former workshop, where he’d been busy for so many years. Now
Ben could clearly see the huge heap of blackened rubble, glistening from the soaking that
the fire crews must have given it, but clearly still hot as puffs of steam or smoke escaped
between the charcoaled timbers, smashed roof-tiles and other rubbish. The smell was
much stronger here too, a dirty and bitter mix of ash and burnt plastic tickling his nose and
throat unpleasantly, though his careful breathing seemed unaffected. He felt small and
helpless as he came to the full realisation that his workshop, his place of industry and the
root cause of his damaged lungs, was gone, utterly destroyed, along with his old home.
As they stood just outside the empty arch, Simon caught the eye of one of the firefighters,
who went to get a smaller man in a high visibility jacket. He introduced himself as Clive
White, and said that he was sorry for Ben for having had this happen to him. He also
introduced the firefighter who’d brought him over as Cai Davis, explaining that Cai had
been on one of the first crews to arrive.
Once he’d checked they were happy to see what he’d found, he carefully led their party into
the burnt-out building, telling them where to put their feet to avoid the still smouldering
debris, warning them about sharp fragments too. He brought them to the front right corner
of the building, and pointed out one of the small windows set high in the wall.
“Do you know if this window was broken when you were last here?” Clive asked. When Ben
answered that it wasn’t, though he’d not worked in here since Monday, Clive explained,
“We knew the fire started around here because of the way it laid these sooty shadows
down on the walls. Then we found glass fragments on the floor, inside, beneath the ash, so
it wasn’t blown out by the fire, or forced in by our lads later. And can you remember what
was here before the fire?”
Ben explained the front of the shop was normally clear for timber, but since he’d finished
his last job, there was just a pile of offcuts from a big cedar, and Marcie added that she’d
remembered seeing them too because it seemed like the sawdust in the pile might be risky
for Ben’s lungs.
“Nothing like a bundle of oily rags then?” Clive checked, then he squatted down on his
haunches to show them something. “We’ve got some of this bagged up already, but can you
see these flakes?” he said, holding up a fragment of what looked like burnt fabric on his
fingertip. He went on, “As I explained to the detective chief inspector, we found a few bits
like this on the floor, so they were the first things to burn. Most of it must be long gone, but
some would have got left behind to smoulder, choked by whatever piled up on top. You can
touch it if you want. Can you feel it’s a bit greasy? We need to get it down to the lab, but I’m
confident what we’ve got is diesel soaked cotton, a good choice for a serious fire starter
who wants to get things going quickly. And you said there was a pile of woody scraps right
here? It couldn’t have been much better for our arsonist, I’m afraid. Maybe they knew that
kindling was already here, so in the wee hours they just snuck around the side, then broke
in the window to stuff their improvised firelighters in. It would probably be enough for
them to just drop a match in then, but they might have smashed something like a Molotov
cocktail in to be sure. My guess is that the first crew got here at least half an hour after it
had started, but to be honest, it would have been a lost cause within five minutes.”
“Aye,” the firefighter Cai interrupted, “This whole bay was filled with flames when we
arrived, poking our heads around the door here. We thought it was just light industrial
when we took the call. For a moment it looked more serious when we realised there was
someone’s flat upstairs. I don’t mind saying, I’m glad to see you standing upright. I was
first up the stairs, and it didn’t look good when we checked your flat, totally filled with
smoke and the floorboards already catching. I saw your bed, but I wasn’t going to just walk
over to it. We got a ladder up the front and broke in yon window. I’ll tell you, I was glad
when it turned out to be empty, but we still had a good check in the other corners you
might have made it to. Like I say, it’s relief to see you fit and healthy in front of me.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve gone to so much trouble,” Ben said, feeling strangely vulnerable and
humbled to think that the firefighter had thought he might have had to pull Ben from the
flames, or perhaps even drag out his lifeless body, he realised.
“No bother, it’s what we do,” Cai said offhandedly, adding, “I’m just sorry we couldn’t save,
well, anything really. As I said, the ground floor was already wall to wall when we arrived.
We were worried your truck was going to catch too. By then the wooden beams overhead
were already turning to ash, and they were all that was holding up your first floor. With the
floorboards already burning too, that meant there was no way we could stop the whole lot
falling in, and the beams in the roof had caught it by then as well. I reckon whatever was
cooking on the ground floor found some canny chimneys up under the eaves, or burnt them
through for itself.”
“What was this, Ben? A joinery shop?” Clive asked, and Ben explained it was more like a
small sawmill, for processing the timber from the tree surgery work that had been his main
occupation. “That explains why there was so much wood to go up, way beyond what you’d
expect in even in an old building like this.” Ben mentioned the wood dust too, and Clive
confirmed that the fire would certainly eat that up quickly. He pointed out something
poking out of the blackened debris that Ben recognised as the remains of his large saw
bench, now smashed and mangled. “Do you see that?” he asked, pointing to an insignificant
dirty silver nugget, then explaining, “That’s aluminium slag, probably something that ran
off the steel contraption that’s still buried here. But that doesn’t melt below six hundred
and sixty degrees, and wood only needs about three hundred to catch. This was way
beyond the point of no return well before anyone arrived to do anything about it I reckon. I
can only say sorry again Ben, for everything that you’ve lost here, but I really don’t think
the fire crews could have done a better job.”
“Aye, I understand,” Ben said numbly, looking around at the hollow building and the great
heap of filthy steaming ash and debris. He was struggling to match what he was seeing to
the idea that this was all that was left, that almost everything he owned lay buried and
ruined in that heap. As his eyes scanned around, he saw something familiar poking out of
the otherwise unrecognisable debris. It was one of his climbing carabiners, and without
thinking, he stepped forwards and crouched to pick it up.
Clive and Cai both moved quickly as if to pull him back, but their caution wasn’t necessary.
The metal was merely warm as Ben held it in the palm of his hand to show to the firemen.
“These were hung up with my ropes and gear,” he explained a little shamefully.
“I wouldn’t trust it now,” Cai said, “The heat will have ruined the metal’s strength, even if
that’s steel.”
“May I keep it though?” Ben asked, thinking of it as a reminder of his previous life.
“Of course,” Clive reassured him, “It’s still yours. I’m just sorry again that you can’t expect
to find anything worth saving here. Even the truck’s probably a write-off, certainly unsafe
to drive now.”
“So what happens now, Simon, Clive?” Marcie asked, taking Ben’s hand again and gripping
it. Ben was again relieved at her practical mindset and her focus on just whatever they
needed to do next as he slipped the grimy carabiner into his pocket.
“Let’s go over to the incident vehicle and have a chat about that,” Clive suggested.
Simon nodded, saying, “We’ll take some brief statements from you both, if we may, just to
say where you were last night, and how the workshop was when you left it.” He went on as
they began picking their way out of the building, “I’d also like to ask Ben a few more
questions. If I could ask Firefighter Davis to put his signature on a piece of paper that
captures what he just told us, that would be great too. Then you and I can have a longer
chat about a plan of action, Officer White.”
Chapter 30
The five of them walked over to the red van, Clive pulling back the side door to reveal some
benches, like those in a minibus, Ben thought, arranged on either side of a narrow table. He
also saw a pair of workstations with bewildering arrays of equipment further back. “We
can offer you a cup of tea or coffee, I think,” Clive said, tapping a silver boiler that was
tucked in one corner, and both Ben and Marcie eagerly accepted the offer.
Simon obviously knew his way around the van as he took his jacket off and claimed a laptop
from one of the racks of equipment, inviting Ben and Marcie to take a seat and asking for
their patience while he logged on. The two of them clambered aboard to sit down next to
each other, while Cai took a seat opposite them, where he was joined by Simon.
Simon then started slowly taking the firefighter’s dictated story of his arrival at the fire and
his discovery of Ben’s smoke-filled studio flat while Clive got their drinks ready. The
detective had to remind Cai a few times that he didn’t need the details of the fire crew’s
actions in response to what they found, but he did note that when they’d arrived they’d
met the man who’d phoned nine nine nine. Apparently this man had been walking his dog
in the early hours of the morning, which the detective was clearly sceptical of. However, he
seemed to think it worth recording that there weren’t any other residential properties on
the workshop’s short street, and that the fire crew hadn’t noticed any other bystanders or
onlookers when they’d arrived.
Cai noted that he’d heard the domestic fire alarm sounding in Ben’s flat, but that if there
were one on the ground floor, it must have already been destroyed or rendered non-
functional by the heat. Ben interrupted to remark that there was a burglar alarm, which
must have failed too, and to ask Cai if he thought that Ben or the Trust should have put in a
better system. Cai confirmed that many large commercial properties had integrated
systems that notified the fire service directly, but told Ben not to give it a second thought.
He said that the horse had most definitely bolted now, so it wasn’t the time to worry about
the stable door.
Once Cai finished dictating his concise description of the state of Ben’s flat, Simon asked
him formally if it would have been a life-threatening situation. Cai confirmed that without
respirators, even a fit and healthy adult in the flat would have died from smoke inhalation
within minutes, regardless of the direct risk of the rising fire. As Ben quietly sipped his
sweet tea from the cardboard cup that Clive had passed over while Cai had been talking, he
understood that the detective was looking for evidence that the arson attack represented
something more serious than just property damage. Once again, he felt shaken and
humbled at the thought of what might have happened had he and Marcie been sleeping in
his old flat.
Simon seemed satisfied though as he thanked Cai, then pressed something on the laptop
that triggered a printer on the equipment rack to come to life. Clive, who’d been sitting in
the workstation’s chair listening to Cai as he made his statement, jumped at the sudden
noise and then laughed at himself for doing so, lightening the mood a little, Ben felt. Then
he asked Simon if he’d got everything he need from Cai for the time being. The detective
confirmed he had as Clive passed the printed piece of paper across with a pen. Then he
addressed Ben, saying, “Also, I hate having to ask this, but do you have insurance?”
“Aye, but just contents insurance. The building’s the Trusts. I don’t know what they have.
And I’m not sure if mine covers fire.”
“I’m sure it does,” Clive reassured him, “It’s standard for regular home contents policies.
You should get in touch with them promptly though. They could probably offer emergency
assistance, if you needed it to fund temporary accommodation for example. They may tell
you how they want the building secured too, even if may seem like a lost cause, or they may
have their own contacts who’d get the place boarded up to their satisfaction. You should
tell them that we believe the building is now totally unsuitable for habitation and, indeed,
unsafe to enter.”
Cai interrupted to say, “You’ll need to contact your utility providers too. I’m sorry to say
we’re pretty heavy-handed about cutting off the gas and electric when we arrive, as I’m
sure you can imagine.”
Simon agreed, then carried on, “You shouldn’t need to worry about getting a statement like
Cai’s to your insurers or anyone else though. Like the utility companies, they should
contact the brigade directly. But do you want to ask Cai anything else before we let him
go?”
Ben still felt dazed, having the sense again that he wasn’t really present, merely watching
this crowded meeting in the van as if were a film. He felt anxious about contacting his
insurers, but he was glad to think that the paperwork which he would have got for them
was safe in Marcie’s flat. He couldn’t think of anything to ask Cai though, but wondered if
Marcie had anything on her mind, as he said simple, “No, thank you. Marcie?”
“No, Ben, I don’t need to ask anything if you’re satisfied for the time being,” she replied,
continuing as she found his hand to give it a comforting squeeze, “This is a lot to take on,
isn’t it? But we can let Cai go, I guess. Thank you again.”
“Aye, and thank the others too,” Ben echoed, “I appreciate you did what you could, despite
the danger. I’m sorry to you had to come out, to do all this for my flat, on the weekend.”
“No bother, man,” Cai said, rising awkwardly in the small space and moving to the door,
“Like I said, it’s what we do. And I’m sorry for what you’ve lost. But you two will look after
each other, right?”
Ben and Marcie both confirmed they would, but Ben felt a little sad to see the big man go as
he waved goodbye and slid the door closed again. The fire must have been terrible, but
exciting too in a way, and Ben had glimpsed a part of that. Yet what was left now was a long
slog of paperwork and chasing things up with professionals, all on top of what he was
already doing with the doctors, the lawyers, the Trust’s HR partners and so on.
Clive briefly took Cai’s place at the table, asking Simon if he’d like him to hang around
while he asked his questions of Ben and Marcie. When Simon confirmed that he didn’t need
the fire investigation officer’s expertise for the time being, Clive got up to leave too,
apologising in advance if he needed to interrupt them later to get anything from the van.
Once he’d left, Simon asked if Ben was okay to give a brief official statement himself now,
and if Marcie would like to give her own account too. He confirmed that he just needed a
few basic facts, about when they’d last seen the old coach house and where they were last
night.
Ben went first, describing their trip to pick up some of his things just yesterday morning.
Simon was interested to hear that they’d had the large doors open so that passers-by could
have seen straight into the workshop, but Ben admitted he’d not noticed anyone hanging
around. He then said simply that he’d been at Marcie’s flat on his own until she’d come
home from work, then they’d eaten their tea and gone to bed. Simon then printed the short
document that he’d been typing out as he’d been listening to Ben.
Next Simon asked Marcie if she agreed to everything in the statement too, and if she’d like
to make her own about anything that it might be useful to officially record before the
arsonists were identified and prosecuted. She admitted that she couldn’t think of anything
to add, though she asked if he was really that confident that he’d catch the perpetrators.
The detective assured her, “Yes, I’m confident. My officers should have already kicked off
the witness appeal, and the locals will know there’s a significant cash reward from
Crimestoppers for something this serious, if they give information that leads to convictions.
You two might be surprised how many people there are out there to notice things, like our
friend who called the fire brigade who just happened to be walking his dog at three in the
morning.”
He went on to ask Marcie about where she worked, confirming the times when she’d left
the library and she’d arrived back at the flat. He also asked whether there was anyone at
the library who could confirm that she was there for her whole shift. Marcie answered him,
but then asked bluntly whether she was one of his suspects and if he was thinking of
checking out her alibi.
“No, it’s not that,” Simon clarified, apparently unperturbed by Marcie’s accusatory tone,
continuing, “But I am in the habit of getting details from people. It might help much further
down the line if the CPS has everything before the defence starts trying to throw curveballs
in court. You know the Crown Prosecution Service, right? Still, stranger things have
happened,” he said, looking at Marcie carefully, “Ben told me he’d only just become your
boyfriend, yet he’s already taken the big step of moving in. It’s possible to imagine you
might just get the impulse to cut off his exit routes as it were, just to make it a bit harder for
him if he had a change of heart.”
Ben saw Marcie stiffen, her nostrils flaring and her hands clenching into fists, as she said in
a quiet but icy voice, “I can’t believe you said that.”
Worrying that she was about to make a much angrier outburst, Ben tried to calm things
down by saying, “I’m sure he’s just teasing, Marcie. Simon, I told you how much Marcie has
helped me, well, from right after I collapsed. I think I told you already, we’d talked about
giving notice on the flat, just not got around to it yet.”
“Thank you, Ben, I had remembered,” Simon said in his calm and self-assured way, “And I
was just teasing in a way. It is perhaps just another old habit, trying to push buttons to see
what happens. You seem angry at my suggestion, Marcie, as you were when I first brought
Ben here. That in itself is interesting, as it is quite a different first reaction from shame or
guilt. But Ben, you also mentioned in the car over here that you were planning a
compensation claim, didn’t you? Can you tell me who else knew about that, especially if
they might have felt they needed to defend the Armstrong Trust or cover up the evidence of
your unsafe workplace?”
Ben reluctantly mentioned Rhona’s name, stressing that she’d been very kind and
sympathetic. Then as he recalled their last phone call, he realised that she’d have passed all
the details on to his supervisor and probably everyone on the Trust’s council. He
apologised for not being able to give Simon all the names of the council’s members, though
he guessed the Cragside estate manager would be on it, but Simon reassured him that it
would be easy to find who they were.
Then Simon asked, “And is there anyone else who you’ve had an argument with recently or
who might wish injury to yourself or your property?”
Ben and Marcie obviously simultaneously had the same thought as they looked at each
other, and he saw the colour seem to drain from her cheeks as her residual fury gave way
to a worried panic. “Not Richard, surely?” she said.
Simon immediately asked who Richard was, and Ben answered, “He’s Marcie’s ex-
boyfriend, and he was her supervisor at the university.”
“We had a row on the day that I took Ben in,” Marcie added, “When I thought I’d just be
putting him up in the spare room as a friend, after he’d come out of hospital on Tuesday.
Richard objected, well, angrily, and then I gave him his marching orders. But I should be
clear, our relationship had probably been dead for a while. I guess it was just lingering on
because he liked the thought of me still being around for him, and I couldn’t imagine a
world where I wasn’t in some sense dependent on him. It needed to end, definitively. I
needed to get out from under his thumb, and Ben helped me do that, even before he agreed
to be my boyfriend. But Richard wouldn’t have known where you lived, would he Ben?” she
asked uncertainly.
“No, I can’t think how,” Ben admitted, “You told him my full name, I think, when we first
met? But I only saw him twice, that first time in your flat, when he started the row, and then
when you dumped his things off, you know, in his office.”
“Holy Mary!” Marcie exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand as her stricken look
returned, “Those boxes. They had this address in Shieldfield written right on them, didn’t
they?”
“You’re right!” Ben agreed as the shock of her insight struck him. Simon asked what this
was about, and Ben explained, “Marcie had some stuff of Richard’s, books mostly, that she
wanted out of the flat. She borrowed, well, I gave her, some plastic crates, just old things I
had in the workshop. I had loads of them you see, for loading and shifting gear sometimes,
but empty now, erm, then. But when I got them originally, I put ‘Property of Armstrong
Trust’ on them, written with a Sharpie, then this address underneath, just in case they got
muddled. It seemed sensible, like if I was working with contractors, or in case I left them on
site.”
“It sounds sensible to me,” Simon agreed, “So you filled these handy crates up with
Richard’s things, then what, dropped them off in his office, right under your love rival’s
nose as it were? And once you’d done that, well, I guess you just walked out hand in hand
with his old girlfriend to leave him stewing. So there he was, frustrated, angry, humiliated
and staring at your ‘gift’ like it was your personalised calling card, complete with an
address. Maybe he thinks about it, working out that your business’s address is, what,
barely a mile away from where he is right then, at the university?”
“Oh, but I really don’t think he would do anything like this firebombing,” Marcie said, “I’d
be the last to defend him, but he’s not stupid, and he’d have so much to lose.”
“He works at the university as your supervisor, does he?” Simon asked, “So, he’s an older
man, in a position with authority and respect? I think this scene sounds familiar, and
knowing that, I wouldn’t rule him out of the picture just yet.”
“You’re right, detective chief inspector,” Marcie said, “He’s a professor, and he was my PhD
tutor, right up until Thursday when I kicked off the process to change supervisor. But,”
then Marcie hesitated before continuing, “I’m embarrassed to say, but he’s married, with
kids. And his specific position is significant too, you see, because he’s the university’s
professor of criminal law. He really does know exactly how much he’d stand to lose.”
“Well, that certainly is an interesting detail,” Simon observed, “About the criminal law, I
mean, not the wife. To be honest, that’s not so much of a surprise. You’ll understand if I
don’t tell you all my plans for the enquiry, but I would still like to have this Professor
Richard’s contact details if I may, and a brief description of the gentleman.”
Marcie started reading Richard’s home and office addresses out from memory, then got her
Filofax out of her bag to check his telephone numbers. She described him as white, aged
forty-seven, of short to average height with medium build and balding short brown hair.
Then Simon asked, “Well, if that’s a lead from Marcie’s past, what about you, Ben? Any
jealous ex-lovers I should know about?”
Ben glanced at Marcie guiltily, and she said, “You’d better tell him, Ben.”
“What’s this?” Simon asked with renewed interest.
“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” Ben began, “But I did have a girlfriend just before Marcie, called Jo,
Joanna Rose, though we’d only been together a few weeks. We broke up just on Monday,
when I phoned her from hospital. We saw her, Marcie and me, in town on Thursday night,
just by accident. But I really don’t think she’d be behind this. She seemed a bit jealous
when we met, it’s true. She was a bit rude to Marcie, but she didn’t seem angry. She just, I
don’t know, she was stirring a bit.”
“She was flirting with Ben whilst bad-mouthing him to me, is what Ben’s too polite say,”
Marcie interrupted, “She gave him a seductive stroke and blew him a sexy kiss, but told me
she thought he might be gay.”
Simon laughed, then seemed to catch himself, recovering his serious tone, “Well, you two
certainly lead colourful lives! But I’m inclined to agree with your judgement, Ben. It doesn’t
sound like she was harbouring the kind of vengeful rage that would inspire her to do
something as serious as this. I’d better take her details in any case, though.
So Ben gave Simon Jo’s address, though he didn’t know her postcode, then he looked up
her number on his phone. At Simon’s prompting, he described her as tall, white, blonde,
mid-twenties and slim. He half expected Simon to make a sly remark about that being a
description of an ideal dream woman, or ask about her hip, waist and bust measurements
as if she were a pin-up model, but he didn’t.
Then Simon seemed to begin wrapping things up, saying, “Right, thank you. It looks like
I’ve got plenty of things to follow up now, perhaps with Professor York and maybe even
Miss Rose, but definitely with the Armstrong Trust. I’ll need to wait and see if any members
of the public come forward with useful intelligence too. I’d be grateful if the two of you
avoid talking with others about the details of what we’ve discussed this morning though,
just for the time being. Meanwhile, I’ll go through everything with Clive again to check that
we have everything we need from the scene before the crews leave. But if you’ve got a good
enough picture of what happened here, I can let you go. So did you have any more
questions for Clive or myself?”
Ben noticed that Simon seemed to be addressing just him, and he guessed that might have
been deliberate. He imagined that from a formal or legal point of view, this was genuinely
his concern and not Marcie’s. Still, he glanced at Marcie as he confirmed that he didn’t have
any other questions. He tried to explain how it seemed to him, that there was nothing to do
now except phone the insurance firm and so on for the practical administrative side of
things.
Ben thought he saw some genuine sympathy in Simon’s eyes as he agreed, then explained
that in cases like this, where someone had been left homeless by a fire, the fire service
could get in touch with a charity that could help. However, he guessed that Ben wouldn’t
need that as he already had alternative accommodation in place with Marcie, with means to
keep himself well-fed and in clean clothes. As Ben confirmed all that was true, Simon said
that Ben might just need the contact details for himself at the police and Clive at the fire
service, though he could leave messages for either of them at their respective switchboards
too. As he went to get a piece of paper to write these out, Marcie invited him to put them
directly into her Filofax. He also had an official incident number for them to quote that he
copied from his laptop, “Just in case the insurers ask,” as he put it. He told Ben that he’d
also be very welcome to contact Victim Support if he ever felt the need, but Simon wouldn’t
refer them to Ben. He reminded Ben that they provided an independent and confidential
service as he also copied their contact number down from memory.
Then it did seem as if Simon thought their business was concluded as he sat back and said,
“I’m sorry, we don’t really run a taxi service. I could put in a call to see if anyone can drop
you back at the flat if you want though, or will you be okay finding your own way?”
“We can walk, I think,” Ben said, looking across to Marcie in case she wanted to object. He
explained for her benefit as much as Simon’s, in case she hadn’t already realised, “We back
onto Heaton Park here, pretty much, and we can walk straight up Jesmond Dene.”
She gripped his hand firmly again as he gave her a sad smile, saying positively, “Yes, that
sounds good to me, Ben.”
With that, she released Ben’s hand to tuck her Filofax away as Simon shuffled around to
open the van’s door, saying, “Okay then. Well, look after each other, talk to your insurer,
but go easy with yourselves too, make sure you’re taking time to enjoy life too.” As they got
out of the van and stood on the pavement in the smoke-tainted fresh spring air, he turned
to Ben and went on, “To be honest, this is a terrible thing to happen for anyone, but luckily
you were out of harm’s way, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’m sure we’ll be
in touch soon, but sincerely, I wish you well.”
Ben felt his eyes sting a little as he shook the detective’s hand, before Simon shook Marcie’s
hand too in a way that seemed to suggest they had made peace with each other. Then with
a final wave goodbye, they headed off in their different directions.
Ben led Marcie toward the park, then through the trees at its fringes, walking hand in hand.
But soon after they’d broken cover to walk across the grass of its central hollow bowl, he
heard the soft sound of approaching rain. He looked up to see that sky was still blue except
for a few drifting clouds, remarking that it must just be a passing shower. Marcie said she
didn’t mind as the rain reached them, the drops sparkling in the sunlight. And then it had
passed, doing little more than dampen their heads.
They said nothing else to each other as they walked on in silence at a steady pace, until they
came to the Armstrong Bridge and, looking up, saw activity around the small market there.
Marcie asked if Ben fancied trying to find something for a late breakfast, and he gladly
agreed. Once they climbed up to the pedestrianised bridge, he felt odd drifting along
amongst the stalls with the regular Saturday morning crowd, who seemed so normal and
unconcerned that they could have almost been sleepwalking. But then Ben thought that
perhaps it was him who was sleepwalking, weaving through the throng whilst remaining
apart from them, locked in his own inward-looking thoughts of self-pity and shock.
Marcie took the lead, choosing one stall where they could get some pastries and coffee,
paying for it, then suggesting they take it down into the Dene, away from the crowd. They
walked down the same long shallow steps that Ben had rested on after his minor attack of
breathlessness only a few days earlier. He remembered their conversation then, with
Marcie’s interesting ideas about the dryads and the hero’s journey, when he’d wondered if
he’d already faced his epic challenge. Yet as it now turned out, it seemed that back then fate
had still been keeping some surprises waiting for him.
As they took a seat on a bench, putting their coffees down to eat their pastries, Ben
reminded Marcie of this. She paused before responding, “And do you remember what I said,
about an alternative point of view?”
“Aye,” Ben replied, smiling ruefully as he quoted her, “‘Shit just happens.’”
“Oh, it certainly has, you poor thing,” Marcie said, putting her free arm around him.
Suddenly they found they were both softly crying, leaning together to hold each other
awkwardly whilst tears spilt down their cheeks, even as they still clumsily held their
pastries in their paper wrappers.
“I can’t believe all my stuff is gone, just like that,” Ben said, pulling himself together a little,
“Or maybe I couldn’t, even standing in that horrible burnt mess, until now. Now I’m
realising it’s true. I’m so glad I was with you, that you had me safe, and that you’d helped
me, well, with everything, but to grab a few things yesterday, at least.”
“Come on, put your Danish down and give me a proper hug,” Marcie said, sniffing.
He did, and she held him tightly to her, their thighs pressed against each other as they
remained sitting upright on the bench, whilst both of them twisted around so they could
press their chests together. Ben buried his nose in her hair, still untidily braided, just as
she’d worn it to bed. His lips rested tenderly on her forehead while she pushed her damp
cheeks into the crook of his neck. He let himself take comfort from her scent and her
warmth, which he felt on her skin against his lips and on his chest through their clothes. He
imagined that he felt her heart beating there, close by his, steady and calm.
After what may have been just a minute or perhaps much longer, Ben sighed and said, “I’m
so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Despite what’s happened, I can
carry on, thanks to you.”
“Oh Ben,” she answered, pulling back a little to stare anxiously into his eyes, “But maybe
this would have never had to happen if you’d not been with me.”
“No,” Ben reassured her, unfolding his arms from her and picking up his pastry again as he
recognised the hollow hunger in his stomach, “I know Detective Simon was suspicious, and
I know Richard’s no friend to me, but I really don’t think he did it. It’s more likely just some
local charvas. Maybe they noticed our visit yesterday, like Simon guessed, then fancied
seeing how it would go up, just for the hell of it.”
“Simon seemed confident he’d find out, either way,” Marcie admitted, picking up her own
pastry too, “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what he turns up.”
“Meanwhile, he said we should enjoy life, didn’t he?” Ben said, finding as he said it that he
still had that positive feeling about his future with Marcie. As he picked up his coffee and
sipped it, he inhaled the fresh spring air deeply, then said, “There’s open sky above us, and
our love is the angel, remember? Lifting us into the fresh air.”
“Oh Ben, I hope you’re right,” Marcie said, finding his hand to grip it, then pushing herself
forwards suddenly to press her lips to his. Though it was unexpected, Ben gratefully
returned her kiss, even whilst his hands were full. He met her open mouth with his,
welcoming her questing tongue, imaging her tasting his coffee on his lips just as he tasted
the remains of her sugary pastry.
She still seemed sad as she sat back to give him a forlorn smile though. Trying to think of
ways to cheer her up, he said, “We can turn this around, you know? This can be one of our
adventures in the Dene, like last time. I know I had a wobble then, but we had a nice time
too, I think. Can you see these trees, and think your dryads again?”
“Oh, I might have known it wouldn’t take long for your thoughts to get back to naughty
mythical ladies!” Marcie gently scolded with a small playful laugh.
“They can’t be just naughty, if they’re in your children’s book,” Ben tried to argue.
“You’re right, they’re just the anthropomorphic representation of fecund nature, an
allegory for storytellers to use as the embodiment of the impulsive libido, of our instinctual
procreative impulse or of an innate energy for life,” she said.
“You’re mocking me again, using those intellectual words,” he said defensively, putting on
the pretence that she’d hurt his feelings.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Marcie said, sipping her own coffee primly, now that she’d finished
her pastry. She went on, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking of another myth earlier, when
the sunlight caught the rain. Do you remember?”
“Aye. I looked for a rainbow, but there wasn’t enough rain, or enough dark cloud maybe,”
Ben admitted.
“Well, the golden shower is in a famous classical story. No, don’t laugh, it’s not about pee,”
Marcie began explaining the myth as they finished their coffees, then continued as they
started walking through the Dene again, back towards her flat. She described how the king
of ancient Argos had a daughter, Danaë, but he kept her locked in a bronze chamber, as the
oracle of Delphi had told the king that Danaë’s son would kill him. Though he hoped this
sealed prison would prevent her from ever meeting a man, let alone have sex with one and
become pregnant, the god Zeus had designs on her. He didn’t disguise himself as a tortoise
or snake, as Apollo had with the dryad of the poplar, but as a golden shower of rain, which
penetrated Danaë’s womb. Marcie explained that in this way Danaë became the mother of
the hero Perseus, who slew the Medusa.
“I know that story,” Ben admitted, the memory of an old film coming clearly to his mind
this time, “It’s Clash of the Titans, isn’t it? With the Plasticine monsters, by what’s his name,
Ray Harryhausen.”
“I think you’re right, Ben,” Marcie agreed, grinning at him, “But I’ve not seen the film since
I was a girl. I guess Danaë must have featured in it, because you see Perseus growing up
and getting his magic shield from Zeus’s wife Hera, don’t you? I’m sure you’ll remember
who played the beautiful Andromeda too, who’s chained to the rocks until Perseus rescues
her from the Kraken. I’m sure they cast her as a willowy blonde though, like your other
screen goddesses, not as a short dark Mediterranean girl.”
Ben smiled as he admitted he couldn’t name the actress, saying that he’d not seen the film
himself in years either. Yet he deliberately did not rise to Marcie’s teasing, stopping himself
from commenting on Mediterranean island women’s appeal. Then Marcie explained that
there were many stories of Zeus like Danaë’s. She mentioned that he’d appeared as a bull
to abduct and then seduce or rape Europa, the queen of Crete and mother of King Minos.
She commented that this was a bit confusing, as Minos’s own wife then mated with a
sacred bull sent by the god Neptune, and thus bore the Minotaur. She also remarked that
she found it surprising that this scandalous Europa had given her name to a whole
continent, yet the European flag used the circle of twelve stars that was usually associated
with Mary, mother of Christ. And yet she also noted that the crown of stars that made the
constellation of Cassiopeia had their mythological origin in the mother of Andromeda
herself. Marcie remembered that Queen Cassiopeia was cast into the sky by Neptune for
her hubris in asserting that her daughter was as beautiful as the nereids, who she explained
were essentially the sea’s equivalent to the tree’s dryads.
“So in a way, it all joins up,” Ben observed.
“Yes it does, and in more ways than you might think,” Marcie said, explaining, “You know I
mentioned Gustav Klimt, the artist who did that golden kiss painting that I’ve got the big
print of in the flat’s living room? Well, he did a quite sexy painting of Danaë too, looking all
flushed as Zeus’s shower comes down between her legs. I’m sure I’ve got it in a book at
home if you want to have a look at it.”
“Thank you, I might, if that’s okay, erm, like if you don’t mind. But I meant it links up to our
other chat, about the sacred goddess and your holy Mary,” Ben said, explaining, “She was
made pregnant by a god.”
“Not a god,” Marcie clarified, “Just God, singular, the monotheistic one true God. And if
you’d seen Klimt’s painting, you wouldn’t think it was just a different version of the
Annunciation, the angel’s visit to Mary to tell her she was God’s chosen. That’s been
painted many times, and it’s always very polite, with Mary most assuredly fully dressed in
her blue robe as she sits there, usually giving a suspicious little wave to the Archangel
Gabriel.”
“But it’s more interesting when there’re lots of gods and goddesses, and more passion, am
I right? We think the stories are better for all that, richer, with heroes, satyrs and fairy
nymphs too. And it’s more interesting too if they’re sometimes impolite. They make more
sense if the bodily fluids are right there. You said the golden shower wasn’t what I first
thought, that it wasn’t about kinky wet play. But surely it could be Zeus’s semen, not the
god himself, that pattered down on Danaë?”
“That does make sense,” Marcie admitted, smiling to herself as they strolled along hand in
hand, “But I don’t much like the idea of that shower in the sunshine when we came into the
park being God’s semen. I wouldn’t mind if it was a bit of yours falling on my face, but I
don’t want His!” Ben gave a little laugh, even as he felt a little shocked and yet also excited
at her remark. But she continued her speculation without pausing, “I’m also not sure that it
works out being any more fun for Danaë than Mary. And I certainly wouldn’t want to
imagine myself in Europa’s circumstances.”
“Maybe not,” Ben agreed, “But some people do get kinky with animals, don’t they? And you
said dryads are an allegory for libido, or something. Well, you can’t get much better than a
bull, as a symbol for masculine fertility. But you didn’t explain the whole story. I guess
Perseus did end up killing Danaë’s wicked father, and I guess he was on a hero’s journey
too.”
Marcie said that she couldn’t remember the story very well, but then went on to explain
that the king of Argos had cast his daughter adrift on the sea with the newborn Perseus. She
told Ben how they washed up on a Greek island where the local king, or maybe his brother,
raised Perseus as his own son. Marcie was more confident that it was the island’s king who
wanted to make Danaë his wife. As she resisted, Perseus wound up having to perform the
seemingly impossible task of facing the Medusa. Marcie wasn’t sure whether Perseus used
the petrifying stare of the Medusa’s severed head to kill the sea monster which threatened
Andromeda, but she was certain it was that which did for Danaë’s cruel suitor. But she
explained it wasn’t until later that Perseus ended up killing her father, and then it was done
only accidentally. The myth had it that the king and Perseus were both in foreign lands
when they unknowingly crossed paths. It was there that the hero killed his own
grandfather with a misguided throw of a discus, or something like that, Marcie thought.
“It seems you remember it pretty well,” Ben remarked, “But it also sounds like a bit of an
anti-climax.”
“Oh, I guess the old king’s death was as much about the intervention of the gods as
everything else in the story. He couldn’t escape his fate, and he had perhaps even brought it
upon himself when he’d wandered from his own kingdom. It’s a bit like that story The
Appointment in Samsarra too, if you know it, about a man meeting the Angel of Death in
Bagdad?”
Their own wandering had brought them close to Marcie’s street now. Ben was sad to cut
Marcie’s stories off, but he knew he had some important phone calls to make once they got
back. He tried to leave the topic open, as he said, “I don’t know that one. But in what you’ve
told me, I still don’t see what counts as Perseus returning home, if his is a hero’s journey.
And I’m not clear if Danaë is cursed or blessed, a kind of hero herself or just a victim, for all
Zeus’s attention.”
“We can do a bit more research together, if you like,” Marcie promised, “It’s a long time
since my classics A-Level, and we didn’t cover that much of this mythology anyway. But I
guess the old stories didn’t have goodies and baddies, nor happily ever after endings, in the
way that modern popular tastes demand and Hollywood provides.”
“Aye, well it’s like we said, maybe that’s why they’ve lasted. They’re messy, like our lives,
but epic too, like there’s a meaning to it all.”
“Are you ready for dealing with some of that mess now, with those phone calls and possibly
some official admin rubbish?” Marcie asked as they reached her flat and she dug in her bag
for her keys, “We can get back to the more basic mess of bodily fluids later, maybe when
I’m back from my shift, if you like. You knew I was working this afternoon, right? But I’ve
got tomorrow off.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, feeling a little overwhelmed by both the negative and positive activities
that Marcie imagined might be ahead of him as they took their shoes off and edged around
his bike, “I’ll find the insurer’s paperwork first. And I can meet you at your library, to walk
you home.”
“That would be nice,” Marcie agreed, turning to rest her hand on his chest and just peck his
lips. Then she suggested, “Shall I brew us both a cuppa while you check your paperwork?”
Chapter 31
Ben easily found the insurance documents in his concertina file, glancing at it for things he
thought he’d never need to check, before just getting on and phoning them. The person he
spoke to was sympathetic, confirming that he had somewhere to stay tonight, then took
some details, but said he’d have to wait for a fire damage specialist to phone him back. He
sipped the tea that Marcie had made as he pulled out more paperwork with his gas, electric
and water providers’ numbers on, chatting to Marcie about phoning the Trust to see if
there was anyone in the office, and about calling his dad too. But the phone rang before he
got any further with those plans as a woman from the insurance firm phoned back.
She checked his details, then also reconfirmed that he didn’t need emergency rehoming.
When he explained that he was staying at his girlfriend’s, he also mentioned that he’d been
there last night, and therefore luckily escaped the fire. The woman seemed very keen to
check just how often he stayed there, as apparently his policy would have been invalidated
if he’d not slept at home for weeks. She was satisfied though when he said that he’d
actually only first spent the night at Marcie’s on Tuesday.
Then he got into the details of how he’d rented his flat from the charity that was also his
employer. He helped the woman understand that everything that was his had actually
fallen through the burning floor into their workshop, before being buried by the building’s
collapsing roof. She seemed to accept that there would be nothing that he could be
expected to salvage, but she focused on the idea that the Armstrong Trust would
presumably be making their own claim. She imagined this would be much larger than his,
for the destruction of a period building with significant commercial value too. That meant
that she expected his claim would become dependent on theirs, and that she needed to
liaise with the Trust as a matter of priority. She confirmed that this also meant he didn’t
need to take responsibility for securing the building, nor be on hand for the insurers’ own
assessors. She told him she’d send the forms through to help him start the inventory of
things he’d lost, then they’d work together to put a value on his loss. She advised that it
may be several weeks before he received a pay-out, and Ben confirmed that he could wait,
that he would be okay without going through the process of getting an emergency fund.
With everything seemingly sorted for the time being, he was relieved to end the call. His
calls to the utility companies were easier, though he wasn’t sure the customer service call
handlers really followed everything that he told them. He suspected at least one was just
treating his call as a standard change of address and contract termination. He did not let
that worry him though, as the call to the insurer had helped him to see the wider picture.
The Trust would have to kick off a significant project to rebuild the old coach house, and
reconnecting the electricity, gas and water would presumably be a job for the professional
builders a long way down that road.
Marcie had been in and out of the room as he’d made his calls, spending some time in the
bathroom and then the bedroom as she changed into her work clothes and did her hair
properly, tidying the laundry away as she passed through, folding the airer back into the
under-stairs cupboard. Though she’d modestly buttoned her clean blouse up high, Ben
glimpsed the silver chain of her necklace, and felt content to imagine her still wearing his
hammer. Once she’d confirmed that he’d finished his admin calls for now, she suggested
they have some early lunch, which he eagerly agreed to, then she started preparing soup
and toast. While she was busy, Ben suggested he quickly phone his father too, just to give
him an update, before they started eating.
When he got through to his dad, at home in the farmhouse it seemed, he described what
had happened, but found himself getting quite emotional. In some sense it felt as if he’d lost
another link to the past, and that loss reminded him of his mother’s absence too. His father
seemed shaken too as he kept repeating that he was just glad that Ben hadn’t been caught
in it, but Ben reassured him that luckily Marcie had helped him to gather some precious
things from the flat just yesterday morning. Then the old man invited his son and Marcie to
Sunday lunch, wondering if they’d be up for driving down to Lincolnshire for the day. He
suggested that Ben could pick up any things he wanted from what he still had tucked away
on the farm, and his dad could thank Marcie properly for all her help. Ben had a brief
exchange with Marcie to confirm that would be okay, then his dad drew the call to a close,
telling Ben to take care and drive carefully tomorrow, reassuring Ben that he could tell him
everything about all the recent events then.
Marcie was already bringing the soup, bread and other things through from the kitchen, but
Ben wanted to make one final call to the Trust to give them an update. She cautiously
agreed that it was probably best to get it over and done with too, but advised him to keep it
short. He wasn’t surprised when there was no one in the office to pick up his call, and he
hoped that Rhona had gone home to switch off for the rest of the weekend. He still left a
message to say that he’d spoken to the police at the workshop, then to his insurers once
he’d got home to Marcie’s, saying that he expected both would be getting in touch with the
Trust soon. He remembered the damaged pickup too, and apologetically suggested that
Harry or Rhona could chase up an insurance assessment for that.
Then Marcie suggested he put his phone onto flight mode so that at least they could have a
few minutes’ peace while they ate. She said that she thought he deserved that after
everything they’d gone through that morning and all the hard work he’d put in since
they’d got back. She deliberately unplugged the landline, and then put a CD on too. Ben was
surprised to hear the beats of one of his trance compilations rising quietly from the stereo
as they started eating.
He thanked her for putting his music on, but she said she’d just done it to satisfy her
curiosity as she wanted to learn what he listened to, apologising that she’d not turned it up
to full-on rave volume. Ben said he didn’t mind, wondering if she’d actually put it on to
reassure him that he still had some connection to his past. He thought of the people he was
still in touch with who he used to go clubbing with, saying that he should message Geoff
and others to say what had happened. But Marcie suggested there was no need to rush, if
he wanted to take it easy on himself for a little while, before asking him what he thought
he’d do while she went to work.
Ben said that he recognised he might end up brooding if he just stayed in the flat, even with
all the interesting books that he’d started reading and his small project to sketch the
transformed backyard. He mentioned that he felt fit enough to pedal over to the gym to
take some nice steady exercise though, as he had with Marcie yesterday. She was clearly
anxious about letting him go on his own, and got him to promise several times that he
really would take it slowly and gently. He reassured her that he’d take care, and that he’d
always double check that he had his inhaler handy, which she seemed to accept. He told her
he’d still be sure to meet her at the library when she came off her shift too.
They each had an apple to complete their lunch, then worked together to tidy up. At the
sink, Ben remembered the mucky and damaged carabiner that he’d taken from the ruin of
his old flat, pulling it from his pocket to clean it in the last of the washing up water. As they
finished up, Marcie asked if Ben wanted to do anything before she left for work, which was
when they’d agreed that he’d set off for the gym too, but he didn’t have any ideas. Then she
remembered that she was going to try and find Gustav Klimt’s painting of Danaë. She
plugged the phone back in and checked for missed calls before she pulled out the large
glossy book, quickly finding the picture to show him.
She sat down next to him on the sofa to find the right page, then Ben took the book from
her cautiously, immediately seeing how intimate the artist’s image of the young woman
was. He wasn’t sure how much attention he should give it, fearing that if he looked at it for
too long, Marcie would think him lecherous, but if he passed it back after just a glance,
she’d think he hadn’t really shown interest.
He commented on the similarity of the background to that in Marcie’s large print of The
Kiss, and she pointed out that Klimt’s style in these paintings was perhaps like the flat
golden setting of church icons. She thought both seemed to put their subjects outside
reality, placing them instead in some kind of timeless transcendent golden realm. Then Ben
risked commenting on the detail that had actually first caught his attention, the realism of
the model’s bold pink nipple. She laughed and remarked that the painter might have
deliberately made it a focal point, with the way the woman’s body was curled around her
exposed breast, framed by the veils and the golden cascade between her thighs.
“I think she’s a bit smaller than me though, in the bosom department, but my thighs are
slimmer than hers, wouldn’t you say?” Marcie asked cheekily, and Ben hesitantly agreed,
before she went on, “But you’re focusing on her, aren’t you? When this is really a picture of
a god. That cascade of gold which is ending somewhere between her chunky thighs, and I
think we know exactly where, even if Klimt hasn’t shown us, that is Zeus himself, if you
take the myth at face value.”
“I see,” Ben agreed, “So this really is an icon, a religious painting?”
“Well, it was never dedicated to Zeus in some temple or prayed to by twentieth century
pagans, as far as I know. But maybe that’s what it was to some degree in the artist’s mind,
and to some of his audience at least it seems. And do you see what I meant about it being
rather more earthy than your typical painting of the Annunciation, when the prim and
proper Mary had her angelic visitation, presumably at the point of her conception? I look at
her deeply flushed cheeks and the way her hand is urgently grasping for something, and
I’m quite sure Klimt was trying to capture the extreme ecstasy of the woman’s orgasm.”
“Aye, a pagan icon of a god coming then,” Ben concluded, “And a woman lost in bliss, in a
timeless mythic realm. Like you said, it’s more exciting than your Holy Mary, wrapped up
in her blue robe, or Lewis’s lion saviour to a frigid witch queen’s winter, I guess.”
“Is this more like the secret fairy world that you’re always talking about then?” Marcie said,
cuddling up to him.
“Yes, or no. I don’t know,” Ben admitted, “It’s got that sexual life force, hasn’t it? But it’s a
god and a woman, not the goddess, the whole Earth or the whole night sky.”
“But you said it felt as if I was that goddess when you came for me, when I was leaning over
you right here on this sofa last night, didn’t you? And I’m just a woman,” Marcie pointed
out.
“Aye, it’s like you were her avatar, is that the word?” but Ben corrected himself, “You still
are, always. There’s the divine eternal life-giving spirit of creation, but you make her
present here and now, focused in your real warm-blooded body.”
“Well thank you for saying that. But yes, that does sound like an avatar,” Marcie admitted,
“And maybe that’s what Aslan or Jesus is meant to be too, a living physical temporal and
corporeal version of the transcendent godhead. But don’t you see that you can be that for
me too? Maybe not the grumpy old bully Zeus, but perhaps something more like dancing
Apollo, the beautiful god of the sun that’s rising into the body of my dark sky. You can spill
your golden seed, your male life-quickening essence, in a way that’s just as exciting to me
as this golden shower is to Klimt’s Danaë.”
“Aye, if you say so,” Ben admitted, “But I’m not really ‘quickening life’, am I? We’re not
really trying to fertilise your eggs, right? Doesn’t that make it kind of pointless, from your
mythic view, of gods and heroes’ epic quests?”
“I don’t think it matters for our bodies, deep down. You said our new love felt like fire I
think, and I think it’s the same primal fires that are in these timeless myths. We’ve already
lit them by what we’re doing together. Our desire and our instincts lead us to the same
deeply satisfying place, even if it doesn’t actually leave anything growing in my womb at
the end of it. I remember how you went off on our first night, spurting right across your
chest! If that wasn’t an expression of potent masculine fertility from your proud and
healthy Roddie, I don’t know what would be.”
“Thank you,” Ben said, echoing Marcie sincerely as he felt a warm glow at the memory,
“But things seem to work for you too, like when I kissed Vixen, right?”
“Well yes, that was a kind of primal expression too maybe. But can you think of that fire,
the fire in our hearts and our loins, the fire of our love for each other, when I leave you?”
Marcie pleaded, turning to face him and grasp both his hands in hers as she became
suddenly serious, “You won’t dwell on that other fire, will you?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, admitting, “It’s still raw, and still doesn’t feel quite real. But I
know, despite everything else, I’m blessed, by your kindness, by your strength. It’s just
another load of crap and bad news, isn’t it? But I’ll keep busy, at the gym, cycling home,
then walking out to meet you. There’s still the fresh open air out there, ahead of us. I can
feel it, I can open myself to it, to let it blow through me.”
“And we’ve still got that secret sexy fire that we can play with safely tonight, right?” Marcie
asked earnestly, “Looking at this painting again, seeing her ecstasy, then talking about the
primal divine forces that we’ve seen and touched, in each other, tasted and smelled too,
well, I can feel that it has already warmed me, down there. And I’ll keep that delicious heat
stoked and ready for you, I promise.”
“That sound’s good,” Ben admitted, involuntarily smiling at the thought of her arousal,
prompting Marcie to give him a broad twinkling smile of her own. She leant over to just
peck his lips, before rising to put the book away and then get her things ready for work.
Ben also got up to gather his gym kit into his small rucksack, but then remembered he’d
not shaved that morning. He checked that Marcie wasn’t too pressed for time, then quickly
freshened himself up in the bathroom, before getting his jacket to wear on his bike ride,
also running through his mental checklist.
As they got ready to leave together, Ben backing the bike out of the hallway whilst Marcie
held the door, she asked him if he was sure that he had his inhaler, and he patiently assured
her that she could trust him to have checked. Then, once she’d locked the door, he went to
give her another peck on the lips, which briefly turned into a longer and wetter kiss, before
Marcie asked him to promise once again that he’d take care. Then they finally parted to go
their separate ways, Ben aware that he was wearing an irrepressible dopy smile that
seemed to mirror the warm expression on her face as he turned to give her a final wave.
Ben brought his full attention to the traffic and his control of the bike as he steadily made
his way along the busy roads to the gym, chaining his bike up to the stands outside when he
arrived. Despite the enchanting conversations that he’d had with Marcie, which he guessed
she may have made an effort to conjure up to take his mind off other things, he did start to
feel the weight of his problems again as he got changed. Coming to the gym on his own was
obviously a prompt to his memory of Monday’s fateful trip, but he also found himself
recalling the scene of devastation at the workshop and the claustrophobic interview with
Detective Simon in the van.
He was still feeling numb and cut off from the world as he set himself to a slow fifteen
minute jog on the treadmill. However as the run went on, he found it strangely comforting
to just focus on the steady, energetic, repetitive movement of his body. Despite the
uncomfortable thoughts that kept replaying in his mind, of loss and uncertainty, it was
reassuring that his muscles could keep going. He felt their pumping presence, along with
his heart, his lungs, his sweating skin, and even his bones and sinews, alive and in
continuous automatic motion. He let his body just carry on as the minutes ticked by, staring
ahead out of the small window that was high on the wall in front of him, watching the
clouds as they drifted over the trees behind the gym.
When his time was up, he transitioned into his cooldown pace. As his pace slowed right
down, he deliberately took slow deep breaths, and realised that not only was he free of any
hint of asthma, but he was also still full of a tense kind of energy. He decided that he was
ready to just keep running, to try and burn that jittery frustration off, to push himself
towards a state of natural exhaustion, whilst still keeping things at a safe and gentle pace.
He reset the machine for another twenty minutes, then let himself sink again into that
trance-like state, feeling his awareness zone in on just the steady pounding rhythm of his
body, with its weight hammering down through his flying feet.
The time slipped away, and he was soon letting himself slow down into his cooldown once
again. He knew that he was now wringing-wet with sweat, and his legs felt a little wobbly in
their tiredness, but his breath was still coming easily as his heart rate settled down. He
thought of moving onto his weights’ circuits, but something in him felt as if he could not be
bothered by that, as if they were pointless now. He also felt the simple physical work of the
cardio exercise was still there for him to lose himself in though. So he deliberately checked
in with himself, confirming that he had the energy and the breath for it, making a firm
intent for himself that he’d not risk anything by setting his pace too fast, then dialled up
another fifteen minutes.
He’d been running for nearly an hour by the time his final cooldown was up, far longer than
he’d normally have done. His legs felt like jelly as he finally stepped off the machine, but his
breathing was just fine. He went straight to the changing room to shower and get dressed,
then bundled up his wet kit in his towel before leaving the gym, emerging into the bright
spring afternoon. He still had a while before he needed to set off to meet Marcie, and he
didn’t feel too sure about spending the time on his own in the flat, brooding, as Marcie had
said, so he decided to go for a short walk, to keep his tired legs moving and to see if he
could reach that graveyard he’d merely glimpsed from the gym.
He reached the open gate in the high stone wall after a short walk along the busy road. He
stepped into the slightly scruffy sanctuary, finding it a little sombre and old-fashioned as he
walked up the neglected path, with grass growing through the gravel. He guessed that the
graves here were mainly Victorian, and that the council was responsible for maintaining
them. That might explain why it lacked the ambience of a rural churchyard, lovingly cared
for by a church community that might carefully foster an artful mock-wilderness of
wildflowers amongst ancient trees. Still, there was a bench under a yew here, which he sat
on for a while, soaking up some sense of living nature around him, persisting despite the
city all around.
Perhaps in some modest way it was still a sanctuary, he felt, walled off from the noise and
fumes of the roads all around, a plot of grubby green that briefly relieved the built world of
stone, brick, tarmac and concrete all around it. He heard a distant siren, which made him
wish that the walls around this space in some way were higher, and thick enough to shut
out the crime and sickness and destruction of the city. Perhaps then the trees and weeds
would have the time to grow properly, to reclaim the grotty stones with flourishing life and
turn the space back into the forested wilderness that it must once have been, before the
plough and the city. In that way, Mother Nature could perhaps restore a tiny piece of
springtime Narnia.
He was aware that time was marching on in the real world though, so he shouldered his
small rucksack and began walking back towards the gym where he’d left his bike. He was
very surprised when he turned the corner and saw Marcie herself pacing down the
pavement towards him. He felt glad to find her here, even though he couldn’t understand
why she wasn’t still at work. However, he realised that once the flash of recognition and
perhaps relief had passed across her face, her own expression was grim. He could see that
this time they would not be making the friendly greeting with two kisses on the cheeks as
they’d made when they’d previously met on the street.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, trying to sound light and positive.
“Well you wouldn’t be if you’d been checking your damn phone,” she shot back as she
stopped before him, clearly fuming with anger, “Is it even turned on? What if the police had
wanted to get in touch with you?”
“I guess they’d have left a voicemail,” he said defensively, following Marcie as she turned
and began walking back down the pavement in the direction that she’d just come. He
pulled his phone from his pocket, realising that it was still on flight mode, which he quickly
turned off before pocketing it again. As she marched on in silence and his phone chimed
with what he guessed were notifications of her messages, he asked in some confusion, “But
you left work early?”
“Yes, I was worried about you. It looks like you’re happy wandering out and about on your
own though,” she sniped at him as he tried to match her brisk pace.
“I wouldn’t say happy. I just sat in the old graveyard after the gym, in the spring air,” he
explained, knowing that he had been feeling a bit sorry for himself and feeling guilty about
it now.
“Well you could have let me know where you were. I went to the gym when I found you
weren’t back at the flat. I’m parked illegally, I’ll probably get a fine. I saw your bike, but
you weren’t inside. I didn’t know where you were. I thought perhaps you’d collapsed and
been taken to hospital again! And it turns out you’d just decided to wander off to stare at
the sky or contemplate your own navel or whatever. Why didn’t you let me know where
you were?”
“Do I have to tell you all my movements now, then?” Ben asked sulkily, but then
immediately regretted it.
“No, Ben, you don’t,” she said icily, “Why should you? Maybe you’ve decided you just need
a bit more space, some time out, time away from me. Well, you can still have that. I’ll drive
you down to your dad’s tomorrow, and you can damn well stay there as long as you like.
There must be loads of space there. And you hop on your bike to Grimsby or Scunthorpe or
wherever and wander the streets to your heart’s content.”
They’d arrived at Marcie’s car, pulled up on the pavement across some kind of small garage
warehouse that was closed for the weekend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. But I don’t
understand, why you’re so upset,” Ben said.
“I don’t understand things either, Ben. You said you’d take care, and that you valued my
support. But the moment I leave you on your own, you wander off and forget about me,”
she said angrily, standing at the car door that she’d opened, “I’m driving back to the flat
now, then I might just go for a little walk on my own too. You pedal back at your own sweet
pace, and I’ll see you sometime later.”
And with that she ducked inside the car, slammed the door and started the engine. Ben
tried to keep on speaking to her, making pleading gestures with his hands and shoulders,
but she seemed to be deliberately blanking him. Seeing a gap in the traffic, she quickly
reversed the car into the road, and then she was gone.
Ben stood on the pavement, feeling heavy and useless. He’d seen Marcie’s anger before,
and he might have guessed that she’d direct it at him sometime, but he felt ashamed for
having been so careless. In some ways she was right that he’d not thought of her, and not
thought to check that his phone was ready for her calls or messages. He bitterly regretted
that now, and earnestly hoped that he could patch things up with her as quickly as possible,
and apologise properly from his misjudged impulsive words. He guiltily pulled his phone
out as he stood there, checking the text messages, then dialling his voicemail. He heard
Marcie’s anxious voice when she’d presumably been leaving the library, telling him of her
change of plan. Her tone was more desperate in her next message, which had traffic noises
in the background, presumably from the very spot where he now stood, as she asked him to
call her as soon as he could to let her know where he was. He realised as she rang off and he
was returned to the robotic menu of options that he had indeed caused her a great deal of
wholly unnecessary worry.
He unlocked his bike and pedalled steadily to their shared home, as he recognised he still
very much thought of it, aware of his tired and shaky legs. He felt wobbly inside too about
how things would go when he found Marcie and apologised, but his stamina and balance
were good enough as he kept himself safe and under deliberate control on the congested
roads.
The flat was empty when he got there, and he remembered Marcie peevishly telling him
that she was going out for a walk. As he got the airer out and hung out his gym kit to dry in
the bedroom, he considered ringing her to ask where she was and when she would be back,
but he thought that would be too presumptive. It would be crass and may inflame her
justified bad mood if she thought that he expected her to pick up his call when he’d not
done that for her. He decided instead to pop out to the shops on Acorn Road to see if he
could buy something as a peace offering. Thinking that he’d already bought her flowers and
only recently given her a piece of jewellery, he wondered if perhaps just a card with a
suitably conciliatory message would be enough. He picked up a pen so that he could write it
straight away, checked he had everything else, then left the flat again, just minutes after
he’d arrived.
He was glad when he found something suitable in a shop that sold various small objects
and supposedly tasteful gifts for around the house. Though he thought that most of the
things on sale amounted to useless junk that no one would ever really need, he saw some
good quality general-purpose greeting cards. He looked down the rack and immediately
saw one that spoke in the secret language that he shared with Marcie. A wildlife
photographer had captured an arctic fox, presumably coming into its spring moult as dark
grey fur grew through the white, facing the lens as it carefully carried an egg in its mouth. It
looked sly and guilty with its head hung low as it stared directly out of the picture, yet it
also seemed wild and full of healthy life in its thick fur.
He bought it, then sat on a bench at the end of the street to pull it out of its cellophane
wrapper and write in it. He thought for a moment, staring at the suburban passers-by, the
closely packed terraced buildings and the grey road that ran beneath them all. He
remembered the melancholy that he’d felt looking out at the mundane brick and concrete
of Marcie’s backyard. Yet he also remembered how his thoughts of her had turned that low
mood around, even before their moment of passion in the kitchen.
He steeled himself and began writing, “Dear Marcie, I’m sorry for my selfishness. You are
my soul partner and lover. You are the light of my life, my guiding star, the sun in my sky.
Your strength gives me hope in the future. I love you, and you will always be in my heart,
whatever happens. We are two become one.” He signed it with a simple ‘X’ for a kiss,
thinking of her leaving him the same mark for him on the contact details which she’d
written down when she’d visited him in hospital, then he sealed the card in its envelope.
He’d half expected to see Marcie on the street, moving purposefully through the other foot
traffic which drifted past the shops. He’d not seen her though, and then when he got back
to the flat, she wasn’t there either. Silence met his welcoming hail, with all its forced
positivity, but he still went through the whole flat, forlornly checking every room.
He felt at a loss, cut adrift and floundering helplessly in these unexpected currents. His
tired body felt jittery, running on empty yet still wired for flight in his anxiety. He knew that
he was genuinely rootless now, and he’d made Marcie his rock, his new safe haven. She had
been angry with him, but he had faith they could patch it up, if he could just find her and
speak to her, to make her see that he was genuinely sorry for his selfish mistake and his
stupid words. He had to have faith in that, faith in the underlying strength of their
newfound love, as he had almost nothing else.
He’d stood in the living room, feeling stupid as he held the card he’d written in its envelope,
staring at Marcie’s poster of the golden lovers. He thought of the artist’s other painting of
Danaë, lost in visceral divine ecstasy, and how his thoughtless error and rude response to
Marcie’s challenge might have jeopardised his access to that secret magical world and
ruined his chances of ever giving Marcie that bliss again. He decided he couldn’t just wait in
the flat for her in this state, and he still felt that he couldn’t try calling her mobile, so he
decided to set out on his bike to find her.
Chapter 32
Slipping the card into his emptied rucksack and shouldering that over his jacket, Ben
checked he had everything then pushed his bike back out onto the pavement before locking
up the flat. He had a plan to retrace the route they’d taken that morning, through the
Jesmond streets and then along the Dene, down towards his old flat. He pedalled slowly,
looking at the pedestrians he passed, trying to be careful so as to ameliorate his fear of
passing her without noticing. When he got to the head of the steps that they’d taken that
morning to climb out of the small steep green valley of the Dene, he got off his bike to
bounce it down, but risked riding it again once he’d reached the bottom, swerving around
the few pedestrians who were still about.
When the old Armstrong Bridge came into view, he thought he recognised a tiny figure who
stood on it, peering over the iron balustrade and looking his way. His heart leapt as the
figure stretched up an arm to give an exaggerated slow wave, and he realised that it was
indeed Marcie, and that she’d seen him. He stopped to give a huge wave in response, then
saw her gesture with both arms towards one end of the bridge. He realised that she was
signalling that she planned to move towards the steps that they’d taken earlier that
morning, and he tried to give her a thumbs up, though he wasn’t sure she could see it. As
she moved off in the direction she’d indicated, he started pedalling again, eager to
rendezvous with her as quickly as possible, whatever mood she was in.
He dismounted when he got to the bottom of the shallow steps to begin steadily pushing
the bike up the slope, trying to avoid making a nuisance of himself to the few other
pedestrians. He’d not got very far though when he saw Marcie appear around the slight
bend on the tree-lined path, coming down the steps at a run. He saw her powerful legs
taking the steps in a loping stride, her head turned down to look at where she placed her
feet, her breast’s bouncing beneath her loose blouse. But he knew she’d already seen him
as she’d glanced up and caught his eye, so he stopped, leaning his bike against the path’s
railing.
Ben wasn’t sure how she’d greet him, but it turned out that she was hardly slowing at all as
she ran straight towards him. Anticipating her intent, he held his arms open for her, just in
time to catch her as she collided with him. In that instant, she wrapped her own arms
around him hard, even as he staggered backwards, having barely braced himself
sufficiently for the impact of her body against his.
“Oh Ben!” she wailed, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, “I’m so sorry! I was all
bothered, and I just lashed out at you with my tongue, even though you’re the one who’s
lost so much.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Ben replied in a low voice, feeling some relief that Marcie clearly wasn’t
bearing a grudge for his previous behaviour, “I was being selfish, and careless with my
phone, and then I shot my mouth off too. I’m really sorry about that. You were right to be
angry with me. I’d made a mistake with my phone, and I should have thought you might get
in touch. And you really did not need my surly backchat. I was rude, and you deserve
better.”
“Don’t say that,” Marcie said, earnestly looking up into his eyes. Ben had thought that he’d
felt some dampness on her cheek when she’d pressed herself to his skin, and now he saw
her eyes and nose were red too, as if she’d been crying. She pleaded with him again, “Oh
Ben, can you forgive me? I was just so worried. I thought perhaps you had collapsed again,
and then if you had, I thought maybe another woman had found you and taken you to
hospital, so you’d be falling in love with her now and you’d have forgotten about me. I’m so
selfish and possessive and jealous, and I hate that neediness in me, but I just want you to be
mine! I want to be the one who’s caring for you, trapping you in my cave. I want to tie
myself to you and not let you out of my sight. After this morning, I felt so sorry for you it
was almost as if a part of my own body had been burnt, making a great weeping sore. I
couldn’t concentrate at all at work, and when I mentioned what had happened to the duty
supervisor, he said I shouldn’t have even thought of coming into work. He told me to go
home and look after you, but then I couldn’t even do that because I couldn’t contact you! I
was in such a state!”
“It’s okay,” Ben said as her confession wound down, still holding her close as they stood on
the edge of the path beside his bike, her standing a step higher than him. He tried to
reassure her as she buried her head against his shoulder again, “I want to be tied to you. I
want your home to be our shared home. I don’t want to be left alone, wandering the streets.
I should have thought, and I’ll check my phone when I’m on my own, next time. Also, what
you say, it’s like the things I put in this card. I bought it to say sorry, really.”
Ben released Marcie, and she dropped her arms, looking up at him inquisitively as he
shucked his rucksack off to fish out the envelope that he’d addressed to her. She seemed
curious, but her thoughts were obviously on what he’d said as she remarked, “Oh, our
stupid mobiles. We wouldn’t have assumed we could be in direct contact with anyone
wherever they were before, would we? And then I didn’t want to use mine to ring you once
I’d set off on this foolish walk, after we’d had our little row, because I was worried you’d
think I was being a shrew, pestering you and using the call as a test or a stick to beat you,
after I’d criticised you for not picking up earlier. Oh, thank you,” Marcie interrupted her
own reflections as she took Ben’s card, suggesting, “Shall we get off this path where we can
have a bit more space to ourselves before I open it?”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, then tried to explain his own thoughts as he turned the bike around so
they could make their way down, “And I didn’t want to ring you, kind of for the same
reason. I didn’t want to presume, like I expected you to pick up when I hadn’t. But I wanted
to know where you were, if I could speak to you, face to face, to apologise. And I wanted to
know if you were okay, if we were still okay too. I’d hate myself, it would be worse than the
fire, if my thoughtless mistake, my rudeness too, especially, had damaged our relationship.”
“Oh, it’s all such a silly waste, isn’t it? You didn’t really need to apologise for anything
when I was the one who’d flown off the handle. I’d said I’d go on this stupid solitary walk
in the heat of the moment, but I was already cooling off and regretting it by the time I’d
parked up. I still went ahead and set off though, because I didn’t know what else to do. I
didn’t want to hang around and get all weepy when you turned up because that would have
been like I was still just crowding you. I set off walking to your old flat because that was on
my mind, but even before I’d got to the bridge I realised just how thoughtless that was. I
remembered your reaction when you first saw it, and your quiet sadness when we bought
our lame breakfast from the tragic little stalls that they set up here every Saturday morning,
but it all just felt even more lonely now they’re gone. I was stuck, I’d painted myself into a
corner. But then I saw you pedalling into view and my heart soared. So thank you for
coming to find me.”
“I’m glad I did,” Ben admitted as they drifted towards the same bench that they’d had that
breakfast on, “But shall we make a deal? If we want to talk, we just try ringing each other.
Maybe we’ll find the other’s a bit cross, but we can just check in, then wrap it up quickly.
And if I don’t pick up, I’ll still check my phone for missed calls. It’s easy enough, right? And
remember you’ve got nothing to apologise for. I was selfish, I regret that, and then I was
rude, and that card is like me saying sorry.”
“Thank you, Ben,” Marcie said with a sad smile, as if acquiescing to his apology. Now they’d
sat down together, she opened the card. As she saw the picture, she exclaimed with
surprise, “Where did you find this? It’s a vixen with stolen egg, isn’t it? Is she going to take
it back to her musky den to crush it in her hot maw then lick up the intense yolk, do you
think?” Ben chuckled along with her at her suggestive thoughts, feeling relieved that her
playful sexy mood seemed to be returning, then he waited patiently while she read what
he’d written.
Ben heard her make a bubbling sniff as she finished and closed the card, looking at the
picture again briefly before twisting around to wrap herself around him. With her head
buried against his chest, he heard her muffled voice plead in a broken way, “Oh Ben,”
before he felt her shake in his arms, as he realised she was sobbing.
He held her to him, feeling the warmth of her body as well as the dampness of her tears or
possibly her nose seeping through his t-shirt, inhaling the fragrance of her tightly pinned
hair as he bowed his head towards her crown. He tried to find comforting words, “I meant
it, you know. I feel we are two become one, though it’s a cliche. It is your strength that
supports me. I feel positive, because of you, even though my old trunk has been cut away.
You’re my rock, I hope that’s okay, and my Pole Star, the fixed point in the heavens, which I
can set a new course by.”
“Thank you, Ben,” he heard her muffled voice choke as her sobs subsided. She still held him,
speaking with her warm wet cheek still pressed to his chest, “It is okay. I want to help if I
can, but isn’t it all too much for you really?” She pulled back briefly to look with pleading
into his eyes, her own eyes red beneath her crooked glasses, her mole-dappled cheeks
glistening. She explained, “It’s a bit like that detective suspected. I promise you, I didn’t
burn down your flat, but maybe I have trapped you in some way. I was clinging to your
hand when you collapsed, when you were a stranger, and I’ve not really let go since then. I
still have you gripped tight, but now perhaps you don’t have any alternative, any escape
route if you needed it. You said we’d lit a fire, and maybe I’ve done that deliberately and
sneakily by teasing you, by somehow enticing and charming you with my feminine charms,
as laughable as that might seem. My Nanna lit her candle, you ate at my table, I plied you
with wine, I tickled your Roddie, and all that helped kindle some kind of conflagration
inside you. And now I’ve trapped you in that primal fire, like those femme fatales of myths
and legend, and your old self is burning away, until you become nothing but a charcoal
skeleton, a shadow of your former self, a smudge of soot that’s a mere echo of who you
were, haunting my witch queen’s lair. It’s your egg that I’ve stolen, crushing the embryo of
your future self in my jaws, and now you’ll never grow into the beautiful great eagle that
you might have been.”
“That’s nonsense,” Ben said categorically, holding her to him, “I’m not trapped. We’ve
spoken about this, and I’m not Lucy, you’re not the faun, remember? If anything, I’m the
phoenix. You’ve saved my egg from the ashes, not stolen it. The fire is our love, right?
That’s what you told me to keep in mind, when we were talking after lunch. I didn’t keep it
in mind that well, though, I admit it. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, but just running
helped, letting my legs move, working up a sweat, without thinking at all. But our new fire
still lights me up. It helps me to soar. I’m reborn, bursting into the open skies above your
secret world.”
“Yes,” Marcie agreed, cuddling up against him again, seemingly content and calm now, “The
fire in our hearts and our loins, I think I said after lunch. Well, you know my real Vixen now,
and her heat. She’ll keep your glossy red phoenix egg cosily tucked away nice and warm,
ready for those firework bursts of yours, just as often as possible.”
“Thank you,” Ben said, feeling warmed already by her suggestive allusion, but admitting, “I
thought I’d fucked that up, to be blunt, that my stupid behaviour meant you’d change your
mind, that I’d never make love to you again.”
“Hey, it was just a couple’s tiff, right?” Marcie reassured him with a light laugh and sad
smile, “It not such a big deal if we take a step back, and it had to happen sooner or later. It’s
been about as stressful a day as anyone could imagine, but we’ve got through it with very
few cross words really, and we’ve bounced back now to be comfortable in each other’s
arms again. So long as you’re sure I’m not trapping you in a witch’s burning oven, if that’s
what you’d call it, we can go home together now. And I don’t know about you, but I’m
starving, so I think the first thing we’ll need to do when we get back is eat.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, realising now that everything was calming down just how true that was,
“I need food too, after my exercise, and everything else. What did you want? We could get a
takeaway. That might be quickest.”
As Ben stood up on his weary legs, following Marcie’s lead, she remarked that the takeaway
options near her flat weren’t great, but she knew there was somewhere that did both pizza
and curry not far from the end of Armstrong Bridge. Ben wasn’t sure they’d make it home
with the food still hot, so as they started walking, with him pushing his bike, he suggested
they just get a couple of pizzas from the supermarket on Acorn Road instead. However
Marcie reminded him, looping her arm through his as they walked, that they’d had pizza
only two days ago. She suggested perhaps a quick oven-ready lasagne might be better,
assuming Ben wanted something meaty and comforting. That prompted Ben to suggest
sausage and mash, which he explained was comfort food to him, as it wouldn’t take much
longer to prepare. She reminded him that they needed to get on top of eating healthily too
as they looked to the future, so they agreed to have it with peas and carrots, just like a
regular children’s meal.
They’d automatically started retracing their steps through the Dene once again, but Ben
asked if would be quicker to cut back to through the streets of Jesmond. Marcie suggested
they keep to the path up the green narrow valley though, to enjoy the late afternoon light
on their meandering stroll to the supermarket, even if their stomachs were rumbling.
When Ben remarked on that, Marcie reminded him, “Anticipation of pleasure can be a
pleasure itself.” Ben wondered if she might have been thinking of the pleasure of fulfilling
appetites other than their hunger for food as she’d said this, but he decided not to push her
by enquiring about possible other desires they might share. He felt that he didn’t want to
probe, perhaps because of some vague thought about keeping things polite, as if their
shared domestic life were a little fragile at the moment and should be kept separate from
the fires of their undeniable passion for now.
Then Marcie seemed to become more serious as they walked on, asking Ben for the details
of his actual workout. He felt relieved to talk about it, even if it did remind him of his tired
muscles and deep fatigue. By her wanting to discuss the gym, he realised that he needn’t
feel so guilty about what happened there now, despite his error with his phone. It felt as if
Marcie had helped to clear the air, with her stormy reaction to her justified concerns for his
safety merely retreating into memory now.
Whilst he kept stoically pushing his bike, he carefully explained that his breathing had been
absolutely fine with a much-extended jog. He said that he’d thought this had actually
brought him a trance-like calm, helping him to find a way to escape his unhelpful recurring
thoughts, with their pointless cycles of worry, sorry at his losses and uncertainty about the
future.
Marcie seemed to genuinely sympathise as she said that sounded positive, squeezing his
arm as if in consolation. But Ben went on to explain that he’d not felt like doing his circuits
of weights at all, as if he couldn’t see the point in maintaining muscles that wouldn’t be
used to swing chainsaws and trees’ limbs anymore. A thought occurred to him at that
moment though, which he voiced by anxiously asking if those muscles were an important
part of why Marcie felt attraction toward him. If she might go off him were he to let them
shrink, then he’d definitely do everything he could to keep their bulk.
Marcie scoffed at the suggestion though, reassuring him that though they might have
caught her eye initially, along with his cute blonde curls and his imposing, reassuringly
masculine height, she loved him for who he was inside now. Ben felt embarrassed as she
described him as a kind, thoughtful, funny, positive and profoundly satisfying companion.
She added that she hoped his attraction to her wasn’t so shallow that it started and ended
with the womanly curves and bumps of her dumpy figure.
Ben was sincere as he promised her that he felt something much deeper than that, and that
she wasn’t dumpy anyway. He reassured her that she had the figure of perfect femininity,
and he reminded her that when he’d first seen her naked, he’d thought she embodied those
highly honoured classical statues of women, the artists’ eternal muse. She scoffed again,
saying she was hardly Venus or Aphrodite, rising from the sea’s foam, but Ben reminded
her that his point hadn’t been about her beautiful body anyway. He tried to explain that
even though they’d already agreed she was the living avatar of those goddesses, what he
felt for her now went far beyond physical attraction.
“It’s like I wrote in the card,” he said, “I feel you’re my soul partner. I’m a different person,
now I’m with you, and a part of my new self, well, it’s like it’s inside you. And I don’t just
mean that in a smutty, suggestive way, though I like that with you too. I like that very much.
But I am Marcie Tabone’s lover now, before anything else. It feels like we’re a real couple,
so different from girlfriends before. I was a kid mucking about with girls. But now this feels
different. It’s just falling in love, I guess, like you said, but it’s the kind of love that’s
changing my life, that’s transforming me, into a grown-up maybe. It’s still a new fresh
green shoot, a sapling I suppose, but it feels like it will just keep growing, taller, deeper,
thicker, stronger, into a mighty oak.”
“Hmm, Ben,” Marcie said, pulling him to a stop at the foot of the steps which led out of the
Dene. Ben realised what she wanted, and leant his bike against his thigh as he opened his
arms to her again. She immediately wrapped herself around him, holding him close as her
own arms tightly gripped him, simply pressing her cheek against his chest. He cradled her
head in his hands, bending down to kiss the top of her head, deeply breathing in the scent
of her ticklish hair. He’d expected that she might say something in response to his
admission about how he saw their love, which he felt was getting very close to saying that
he thought Marcie would become his life partner, perhaps his wife. He found it very easy to
imagine them sharing that long journey into the future, far beyond the immediate horizon
and on into the rest of their adult lives, until they grew old together. He suspected that she
might be beginning to feel the same way, but she remained silent, perhaps as scared as he
was about putting such things into words, as if they’d jinx it. So they just stood there,
embracing in the early evening light for a timeless moment. Ben guessed that for now,
Marcie was as content as he was to simply be together, in shared love, heedless of all else.
But then his hollow stomach gave a long grumbling rumble, making Marcie laugh as she
stepped back and looked up at him with twinkling eyes. “Come on, my hungry lion,” she
said, “Let’s get you something to gratify your vast appetite. And let me push your bike for a
bit. No, I insist! I want you to save your strength, just while we get up this steep bit.”
They became quieter as they pushed their way up out of the Dene and then along the rising
residential street towards their local supermarket, Ben taking over with the bike as the
slope levelled out, despite his tired legs. He locked the bike to a railing outside the shop
before they went in together, Ben picking up a little wire basket to carry around as Marcie
found everything they needed. They paused at the wine, trying to remember how much
they had left in the bottle in the fridge back at the flat. Ben talked about not wanting to
drink too much tonight in case it made him feel low, but Marcie argued it was better to have
another bottle on standby just in case. She also said that she didn’t want to worry about her
units after such a strange day, and that they could find a new normal for the two of them
next week. When it came to paying for everything, she shooed away Ben’s offered cash too.
He packed the shopping in his rucksack, but Marcie insisted on carrying it as he unlocked
his bike, before they wearily made the last few steps of their journey home.
Once she’d let them into the flat and slipped shoes off, Marcie said she needed to wee and
wash her face as she carried the bag to kitchen. Ben was slower, awkwardly parking his
bike in the hallway before taking his own shoes off, then putting his jacket in the spare
room, while his mind was on the sad thought of the dried tears on Marcie’s cheeks. When
he reached the kitchen, he saw she’d left his full rucksack on the top next to her discarded
jacket, though she’d already taken his card out to stand it up by the kettle. As he unpacked
the shopping, he heard the pattering flow of her urine and then the louder torrent of the
running tap around the bathroom door that she’d left ajar. He called out to ask she was
ready for him to start making tea now, and she agreed over the sound of splashing water,
so he emptied the potatoes into the sink to begin peeling them, running the tap for a kettle
full of water too.
He looked up from the sink to smile at Marcie as she emerged from the bathroom a moment
later. She returned his smile warmly, and he noticed her face seemed to have a rosy pink
glow now, perhaps as she’d rubbed it firmly with her little wash. He also could not help
himself from noticing the swaying movement of her breasts beneath her blouse as she
twisted around the bathroom door, then away to toward the living room to toss her jacket
onto the sofa, before turning back to the oven, bending down a little to put it on, evidently
planning to bake the sausages. He wondered why he’d not noticed their lose movement
beneath her thin silky blouse before, nor realised just how low they seemed to hang. In
becoming acutely aware of them now though, he recognised that her body did indeed have
a magically direct influence on him, as he felt the initial stirrings of a soft arousal under his
jeans.
Perhaps she saw something of this lustful interest in his face as she glanced towards him,
because she grabbed the tea-towel and shoved it towards him, saying, “Come on, stop that
a moment and dry your hands so that you can give me a proper squeeze!”
She’d put her hands on his hips as he quickly complied, looking up at him with a smirking
smile as he briskly rubbed his hands before casting the cloth aside. Then she pressed her
belly and soft chest against him as he wrapped his own arms around her, burying her face
between his neck and shoulder, holding her close, murmuring, “We’re home, we’re safe.”
He felt the warmth of her skin through their thin clothes as he held her, and it seemed to
carry an oozing emotional warmth too, her intimate presence bringing him a profoundly
comforting reassurance as well as the more visceral pleasure of the physical contact.
He stooped down, trying to bring his face to hers, to find the soft skin of her brow, her
cheeks, her nose and her lips with his mouth. As he wriggled against her, stealing only
briefly brushing pecked kisses, she squirmed against him in response, shifting teasingly in
his arms. She was pushing herself against him in one moment and then leaning back in
another, twisting her hips and shoulders sinuously against him, all the while holding him in
a tight embrace, her arms gripped firmly around him as she ran her hands and fingertips
vigorously across his back and shoulders.
He found himself struggling for balance, then sinking heavily to one and then both knees on
the kitchen floor. Marcie’s hands were cradling his head as she stooped down herself now
to plant those pecked kisses on his lips. Then, as he gripped her hips and buttocks firmly
through her thick trousers, she stretched upright, pulling her neck back and arching her
spine, pulling his face to her proud chest with an exaggerated sigh as she did so. Ben gladly
buried his nose against the line of buttons down the front of her blouse, feeling the solid
nugget of his hammer pendant resting against her sternum under there. But in his growing
arousal, he was more aware of her breasts, so close to his dry mouth, unfocused eyes and
flared nostrils.
He bowed his head and rubbed his face against her, feeling the soft warm mound of her
right breast against his cheek. He inhaled deeply, catching the unmistakable dusty scent of
her body odour under the more polite fragrances of clean washing and her citrus blossom
perfume. He wondered at this even as he relished being tucked up against the honest
humanity of her sweating body, thinking of all the walking that Marcie had done that day,
and the stressed anxiety that she’d mentioned feeling. He felt a profound tenderness
towards her as he rested the weight of his head against the yielding cushion of her breast,
yet his lustful passion also drove him to move his hand to her other breast, which hung
heavily beneath her thin blouse before his eyes.
As he brushed its lower curve reverentially with the tip of his fingers, he was surprised to
clearly feel what could only have been the textured bump of her nipple through the thin
silky fabric. The visceral sense of his close intimacy with Marcie suddenly struck him far
more strongly, and his body responded by making his hidden erection surge to an aching
stiffness. He brushed his fingertips back and forth as gently as possible, delighted in the
wonder of how clearly he felt the sensitive skin of her divinely feminine nipple through her
clothes. As he did, he heard Marcie draw a sharp breath through her teeth above him.
“Oh Ben,” she whispered, “You noticed, didn’t you? I took it off when I went to the
bathroom, then buttoned myself back up. After a tense day, it feels as if I’m letting myself
out of a tight harness, like a tired old mare that’s let back into the pasture again after a long
day being bound up with a saddle and bridle. I hope you don’t mind, that you don’t think
I’m letting myself go?”
Ben immediately realised what she meant, that she had taken her bra off. The revelation
explained why he’d suddenly started noticing the loose movement of her low breasts
beneath her blouse. Yet he resolved once more to do his best to keep their domestic
evening on a restrained, calm and well-mannered course. He still thought that better for
their long-term commitment, demonstrating that they were an adult couple who shared
their lives, rather than risking their future by burning themselves up in the fiery passion of
the moment, as it seemed Marcie had been worrying about.
So despite his pressing arousal, he deliberately pulled his hand back from her chest, lifting
it to reach for hers, then gripping it to rise to his feet. He felt a little dizzy even as he
relieved the painful pressure on his knees, finding himself gratefully slipping his other
hand into hers too as she dropped it from his scalp to slide it over his chest. He leant down
to peck her lips again as they stood facing each other once more, in that narrow kitchen,
holding hands, moving tenderly and slowly now.
Realising he’d not answered her question, he hesitantly tried to allay her fears, “No, I don’t
mind. I don’t mind at all. And it’s not my business anyway. You must always feel
comfortable, well, at least know that I’d always want you to be comfortable, especially in
your own home. Erm, in our home.” He felt himself getting tangled around his stumbling
words, so he concluded by briskly remarking that they’d better get on with things, noting
her oven was up to temperature already.
Chapter 33
Marcie smiled tenderly at Ben, seemingly about to say something, but then perhaps decided
to acquiesce to his suggestion as she released his hands and turned to get some pans out.
Ben turned back to the kitchen sink himself to finish the potatoes, feeling re-energised by
the moment of gentle intimacy with Marcie, as she breezily said, “I’m glad you remembered
it’s our home, Ben. I didn’t say before, what with all my performance, but I noticed that
you’d called this place home just before we said goodbye this afternoon, when you were
about to set off for the gym. You said it so naturally and it seemed so sweet. It made me feel
warm and gooey inside. But I know you had another home. I don’t want to dwell on it if you
don’t want to, and if it’s a bit raw for me it must be a thousand times worse for you.
However, if you do want to talk about it, you know you can share anything that’s on your
mind about losing your old home, don’t you?”
“Aye, I know, thank you Marcie,” admitted Ben, working with the peeler in the cold water,
feeling his arousal retreat, “It is a raw feeling, and part of me doesn’t really want to dwell
on it either. But in another way, perhaps it’s not such a big deal, or that’s how it feels. I’ve
got a lot of my important things here now, thanks to you. The rest, well it’s just stuff. It was
there, and now it’s become some ashy rubble, just like they say, ‘Ashes to ashes.’ But
maybe I feel a bit guilty about that too, like I should care more, I should have taken more
care. I think the real challenge is, well, that it just came on top of everything else, if you see?
And that’s why I felt so tense and upset, and why I shot my mouth off at you.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant by talking about things,” Marcie interrupted as she banged
the oven door shut on the tray of sausages and set the timer, “We had a minor squabble,
and I think we both regret it, but we’ve moved on. It was just a bit of hot air and it’s over
and done with, along with the apologies and the making up, so we don’t need to rake over
that. I thought what you might be raking over in your head were those ashes, and I was
hoping that you’d let me in so that I could offer some support and try to help you if you
were.”
“No, thank you. It’s not really the burnt stuff, the lost things, that are on my mind,” Ben
tried to explain, standing shoulder to shoulder with Marcie now as he chopped the potatoes
on her vegetable board, “I’ll go through it all later, when the insurance inventory thing
comes, like I’ll remember the things that are gone then, to say goodbye, if that’s not stupid.
I guess the destruction of my old home, the way that place has just gone, it does make me
feel low now. But it’s more like it’s just stretched me too thin. I feel like, ‘What’s this now?’
Like it’s another heavy thing I’ve had to pick up and carry.”
“I think I understand,” Marcie said sympathetically as she took his chunks of potatoes to
drop into the pan of boiling water she’d set up, “I remember being told it’s like we have a
bucket for dealing with things, and if it starts getting too full then we feel stressed. The
thing that tips us over into a crisis might not be such a big thing in itself,” she explained,
seemingly illustrating her point by dropping the last chunks of potato in one at a time, “But
when it comes on top of everything else, it can completely floor us. Your fire is a big thing,
but I can see how the news about your health and its impact on your job might have been
much bigger rocks that were filling your bucket to the brim already.”
“Aye, that’s what it feels like,” Ben admitted, “A bucket of rocks. I guess I’ll get used to it,
with your strength helping me.”
Marcie rested her small warm hand on his wet paw, saying, “But you don’t have to get used
to it, that’s the point. I think it’s supposed to be like a bucket of water, and you can let the
stressful things drain away from it steadily, so then you can keep pace with the stuff that
life is throwing into it. Relaxation and fun, being kind and gentle with yourself, keeping
active and seeing people, learning new skills and using them in creative ways, being helpful
and feeling like you’re having a positive influence in the world, they all help you keep a
strong healthy flow that lets all that tension and pressure pour out of your bucket, spurting
energetically through your big tap.”
Ben returned her smile as he gripped her hand, seeing that she was serious as well as being
deliberately suggestive. “That sounds good,” he acknowledged, adding, “So I can focus on
the good things that help my flow, not dwell on the bad stuff that might get backed up. And
I can start now, being helpful by peeling the carrots too.”
Marcie laughed lightly as he let go of her hand with a final squeeze to turn back to the sink.
Then she said seriously, “Ben, you must know you’ve been helpful pretty much since the
moment you stepped into the flat. You helped me escape the car crash of my old
relationship and make a fresh start, you’re planning work to beautify the backyard and
make our neighbours happy, and you’ve done the most mundane things too, like keeping
the laundry basket from overflowing and preparing a lovely dinner for me last night.”
“It’s no bother. I was glad to be here, to give a hand where I could,” Ben assured her as he
ran the tap for a fresh bowl of water. After what they’d just been saying though, the sight of
the muddy potato washings draining away had made him think of something. He explained,
“But I’ve had a thought. Your bucket with healthy water flowing through it, it sounds better
than what I’d imagined, something filled with rocks and ash. And it’s reminded me of your
bath. You know there was just a shower, in the Trust’s old coach house, right? So I was
wondering if I could use it, tonight? It would be a novelty for me, something gentle and
relaxing, like you suggested. And it might feel like washing today away, even if I was never
really in the smoke and ash.”
“Oh Ben, of course you can!” Marcie exclaimed, coming up behind him to wrap her arms
under his, across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She reminded him, “This is
your home too, your bathroom. And there’s no need to worry about the hot water when we
can run as much as we like through the combi boiler. You could borrow some of my
bubbles and light some candles,” but then she tensed as she realised what she’d said, “Oh!
If that’s okay. I didn’t mean to bring the fire back.”
Ben reassured her, “No, candles would be lovely. We need to keep the fire too. We own it,
safe, glowing, carefully tended. The fire of our love I mean.”
“Oh yes, I can feel its warmth now,” Marcie replied with a sigh as she hugged him, before
loosening her lingering hands’ grip so he could finish the carrots. Then she returned to her
own thoughts about Ben’s bath as she said, “I could keep you company too, if you like. Not
in the bathtub I mean. I’m sorry, but I really don’t think there’s any way we could both fit
in there together. I could sit comfortably next to you though, and we could chat while you
soaked, if you could still relax that way.”
“I would like that,” Ben admitted, putting a wet hand over one of hers to squeeze it, not
caring about the splash of cold water on his t-shirt.
“Ooh, your hands are icy!” she exclaimed, pulling back. Ben managed to twist around to
peck her lips before she leaned back, insisting, “Let me take those now to chop for a veg
pan.”
Ben passed the peeled carrots to her, before quickly finishing with the last one too. He
deliberately resisted the temptation to make a cheeky remark about the firm orange rods,
just as he’d noted Marcie had missed the opportunity to comment on the flaccid pink
sausages that she’d laid out in their baking tray. As Marcie sliced precise batons, then
nudged Ben aside to fill a small pan with cold water for them, it seemed her mind had
moved on as she started asking about what to expect of lunch at his father’s tomorrow.
Ben thought quickly before guessing that it might actually be roast beef with all the
trimmings. He explained that his dad hadn’t hesitated to step up the mark in the kitchen
when his mum had passed away. Though he thought it unlikely that his dad had returned to
dabbling in raising bullocks, he was sure the old man still had the stockman’s close contact
with the local butchers. Ben expected their visit would give him an excuse to slaughter the
fatted calf, as it were.
Marcie had started slowly fiddling around with the other steps toward getting a civilised
dinner on the table - opening the back door to let the smells out, putting the living room
lamps on, weighing out some frozen peas, preparing a jug for the instant gravy, getting out
cutlery and plates, then filling glasses of water. Ben had stepped in to help a little once he’d
cleaned up the sink, at that moment was laying the table alongside her as she set up his
card beside the old vase of flowers, but his biblical reference made Marcie laugh.
“For an unrepentant heathen, you do know quite a few subtle details from the Gospels,
don’t you?” she remarked.
“I don’t know why,” Ben reflected, “I must have just picked them up. Or maybe it’s growing
up in the countryside. The stories of cutting vines and sowing grain, rich harvests and
careful shepherds, maybe they mean more, if you’re doing those things too, on the land,
seeing nature’s laws, day in, day out. Perhaps mum and dad, and me and my brother too,
picked stuff up from my grandparents, who were quite churchy, or maybe bits were in
everyone’s heads, so it just came out when they talked, like with me just now.”
“It makes sense,” Marcie agreed as she stood up from the CD player that she’d started with
some quiet dreamy music that was unfamiliar to Ben, “But I wonder if it means those
classical pagan stories have more resonance with country boys and girls too?”
“Well, maybe don’t start carrying on like we do with Dad. I’m not sure what he’d think of
the stuff we talk about, like Danaë’s golden shower, or Nut’s heavenly body.”
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him with a cheeky grin and a playful slap on his wrist with
the back of her hand, “I know how to behave. Did you want a bit of wine while we eat by the
way?” Ben answered by saying he’d like just a small taste as they drifted back to the
kitchen, before Marcie continued, “Tomorrow I won’t even mention the lively games that
furry satyrs and nymphs play to honour the divine goddess of the moist Earth with her
mate, the blonde sun god as lion rampant.” She became more serious as she poured a little
wine into the glasses Ben had found, saying, “To be honest, I’m quite nervous, so I’ll
probably be painfully aware of what comes out of my mouth.”
“Well, don’t you worry either,” Ben responded, “He’s may be a bit stuck in his ways, but he
plays the gentleman, and I’m sure he’ll like you.”
“Oh don’t!” Marcie pleaded, reaching out to grip Ben’s hand, “You’ll make me even more
nervous if I’ve got to play the demure young lady and flatter him.”
“It will all be fine,” Ben reassured her again, but at that moment the oven’s timer went off,
so they got busy with the final steps to get the meal ready, Ben mashing the potato as
Marcie mixed the gravy, closed the back door, then started dishing up.
Once they were at the table, they raised their modest wineglasses, both simply saying,
“Good health,” before tucking in eagerly. Ben’s stomach had been groaning and his mouth
had been salivating as the smell of the baking sausages had filled the kitchen. Now he felt a
deep comfort that echoed what he’d felt in Marcie’s arms, as the reassuringly familiar
flavours and textures of the meal answered his yawning appetite.
As they ate, Marcie asked a little about the route down to Lincolnshire and they discussed
sharing the drive, then Ben asked if they shouldn’t put a date in the diary to make the trip
over to Manchester to see Marcie’s mother too. She sighed at this suggestion, admitting
that she did need to make her regular Sunday night call tomorrow evening, but that she
wouldn’t rush to set anything up with her mum.
“I know how it will go,” she explained, “I’ll be, ‘Hi Mum. I’ve got a new boyfriend. He’s just
discovered he’s got a chronic lung condition and his flat has burnt down, but he’s moved in
with me and we’re really happy together.’ And then she’ll just say, ‘That’s nice. Tiddles had
a bit of an upset tummy this week. I think that Mrs Walsh gives him giblets to eat when he’s
in her garden.’ Honestly, she’s a lost cause. It’s her cats and the things that upset her cats’
routines, that’s all her life is. Maybe we’ll drive over there before Christmas. No, I’m
serious.”
Ben had laughed, but he nodded sincerely when Marcie had corrected his assumption that
she’d been joking. He still doubted that she wasn’t teasing him, but he decided to play it
straight, saying that it must be difficult for Marcie. “Oh, I had to get used to it years ago.
She’s not going to change now. No, I’ve made a nice life for myself in the northeast now,
and despite the awful things that have happened to a dear friend, in this last week it’s just
become a whole lot nicer.”
Ben realised what she meant as he chewed his food, swallowing his mouthful before
responding earnestly, “Thank you for saying that. And don’t worry too much about your
friend. He’s hit some bumps in the road, sure, but his life has is suddenly a whole lot nicer
too. Despite the knocks, he knows he’s a lucky man.”
Marcie had a forkful of food halfway to her mouth, but Ben’s assertion seemed to have
struck her powerfully as she froze, fixing him with a wide-eyed stare, then slowly lowering
her fork before asking with a plaintive hollow voice, “Why?”
To Ben it seemed there was a tangled complex of strong emotion rising to the surface
behind her simple question. In dramatic contrast to their light-hearted joking chatter, she
was suddenly very serious, and seemingly scared too, as if they’d been playfully bowling
along but unexpectedly found themselves at the brink of a threatening precipice. He felt
there might be a lot riding on his answer as he carefully said, “Well, he’s just found his life
partner.”
He was surprised to see Marcie’s deep brown eyes brimming with tears behind her glasses
as she let go of her cutlery and held out her hands, whispering, “Oh, Ben.”
He put his own knife and fork down, then reached to clasp her hands. It seemed awkward
to be stretching their arms out across the corner of the table though, so he slid from his
chair to kneel before Marcie’s feet. “It’s okay,” he said vaguely, uncertain of what was
running through Marcie’s head.
Now that he was closer, Marcie dropped his hands into her lap to reach her arms towards
him. Taking his cue from her again, Ben raised his own arms to encircle her in a hug,
shuffling forwards as she leant down and parted her knees to pull him in, wrapping her
arms around his neck. Ben was still gazing unflinchingly into her wide eyes, noticing the
pearls of her welling tears beading on her eyelashes, as she gave a terse explanation of her
thoughts in a broken voice, “I’m so happy it scares me, but how can I be happy when
you’ve suffered so much? And then I shouted at you on the street. I was mean to you,
kicking you when you were down. Mother of God, I’m so sorry!”
Suddenly Marcie was sobbing again, but her voice was making an uninhibited choking wail
that Ben hadn’t heard from her before, sending shuddering waves through her heaving
ribcage as Ben held her in his arms. She’d leaned over him to bury her face in the crook of
his neck, and Ben could once again feel the spreading dampness on his skin from her eyes,
as well as her nose and gaping mouth he guessed. He held her tight while the choking sobs
shook through her, nuzzling his nose and lips against her neck, noticing her ticklish stray
hairs as he pressed himself close. “It’s okay,” he murmured again, “We’ve said sorry. It’s
passed. And it’s okay to be happy. I’m happy, utterly. I’m blessed, in our shared love. It’s all
okay.”
Marcie pulled back a little to stare into his face again through her bloodshot red-rimmed
eyes, gripping the back of his head in her fists as she almost howled, “But it can’t last! It’s
too good to be true! You’ll find someone else, someone more suitable, a true goddess,
blonde and elegant, and you’ll forget me!”
“That’s just not true. Our love will last,” Ben asserted, and as he did so, he realised just how
sure he now was of that himself. He was moved to raise his lips towards Marcie’s, shifting
his hands to cradle her jaw, heedless of the wet mixture of tears and the fluid from her
running nose that glistened around her mouth.
He had thought that they would kiss tenderly, their relaxed and parted lips just brushing
together, but the shifting course of Marcie’s strong emotional expression took him by
surprise as she pulled his jaw hard against hers and pushed her tongue deep into his mouth.
He eagerly responded in kind, though still holding her neck and damp cheeks gently as he
sucked and stroked at her tongue with his own. In her mouth, he tasted the sausages and
gravy that she’d been eating, and enjoyed that simple shared experience, the mundane
earthiness of it making him even more enthusiastic for their kiss. As the straining muscles
of their jaws worked in sympathy, their wide open lips pressed and slipped over each other
chaotically, tilting Marcie’s glasses, squashing their noses together wetly, and even
sometimes painfully knocking their teeth together.
His own hungry passion matched Marcie’s as they continued to urgently devour each other,
panting as their kisses went on and on. But now Marcie was no longer gripping the back of
Ben’s head as she’d moved her hands between them to frantically fiddle with the front of
her blouse. He realised what she was doing with a dizzy rush of excitement even as they
kept moving their mouths and tongues against each other’s.
Then, as Marcie finished unbuttoning herself and swiftly pulled her shirttails out of her
trousers’ waistband, she pulled back to look down at Ben, breathing heavily. As he stared
deep into her eyes, still on his knees between her parted thighs, he saw they were pink
from her weeping, matching her damp reddened nose. But her gaze now seemed self-
assured and confident under her lowered eyelids, rather than wide and scared. He saw her
cheeks were glowing too, even as they glistened, along with her mouth and chin, with that
slippery mix of tears, snot and saliva. In the fading twilight and the room’s lamps, her
dappled face with its strong jaw and proud nose seemed to glow, surrounded by the
crinkled whisps of dark hair that had escaped her tight clips and pins, loosened by the
vigorous activity of their kisses. It took only an instant to see all this, and to feel her exotic
beauty and vulnerable humanity trigger a surge of warm affection within him, before she
murmured, “Come to me, Ben.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant, but as he lowered his eyes, he saw her parted blouse and
felt his impulses taking over. There was just a strip of her naked chest and abdomen
exposed, running from her neck and collarbones to her navel in her soft flat stomach.
Between was the deep groove of her cleavage, his silver hammer hanging from her long
silver chain to rest on her sternum, the curve of her breasts sweeping away low under the
loose fabric. She seemed to breathe in deeply, raising her chest towards him, as he lowered
his face towards her. As he did so, he dropped his hands to find the hem of her blouse, using
his fingertips to pull one half gently aside, watching intently as the fabric drew jerkily
across her breast.
He felt another dizzying wave of thrilling excitement as he saw the full and heavy orb of
Marcie’s naked breast, with the wonderful dusky pink areola wide around the creased
bump of her nipple, rising above the delicately thin mole-spotted skin beneath. He felt his
instinctual response to her revealed femininity as a powerful surge to the arousal that had
been growing while they’d kissed, bringing a firm hardness to his hidden erection. He’d
already brought his face up close to Marcie’s skin, close enough to clearly see the subtle
bumps and dimples around her nipple, the blue hints of her veins’ tracery, and even the
pores of her stretched skin. He was sure that she knew what he would do next, and he felt a
calm confidence in that mutual understanding, also sure that she would be utterly at ease
with his specific attentions.
Yet he paused for a moment with his lips hovering over her nipple, his palms flat on the
smooth skin of her waist under her blouse, the tip of his nose just brushing her warm soft
breast, savouring the intimacy that Marcie allowed him. He inhaled deeply, catching again
the scents of her perfume and soap, as well as that comfortingly honest odour of her hard
day, pungent and a little sour, yet also carrying the deep musk of old wood or rich soil.
Marcie’s dusty personal fragrance only reenforced his robustly satisfying arousal as he
reverentially put his parted mouth to her nipple.
Her hands rose to the back of his head again and he heard her breathe out a relaxed sigh as
he kissed and licked at that sensitive bud of her womanly bosom. He could feel her fingers
tangling in his hair and caressing the skin behind his ears in a delightful way as his mouth
almost involuntarily became more eager. Then he was vaguely aware that Marcie had
dropped one hand to her lap, but his attention was filled by the sensations in his mouth as
its muscles were once again working hard, just as they had when they’d kissed. So now his
jaw was stretched wide, his lips still covering his teeth, while his tongue was rolling itself
forcefully against her teat, even as he experimented with hard sucks to draw her flesh into
his mouth.
He heard her moan a little now as she repeatedly breathed out heavily panted sighs above
him, then she was quietly crooning as her hand fidgeted about somewhere down between
them, “Yes, Ben, yes! Eat me, feed on me. Take my body, our sins are forgiven. Yes, take
more, suck it hard! Holy Mary, swallow me! Take me and drink deep. I wish I could leak,
like Shona’s liquid breast, my mother’s milk, Mother of God, oozing Holy Spirit. I want to
cream you, to cream for you, to gratify you, like your sweet seed, leaking from me, into your
body, nourishing a new life, my baby, leaking together, swelling your stomach, in Holy
Communion, our salvation, our shared chalice, brimming goddess milk-sperm, sweet as
honey, our purifying balm, my spurting breast, sacred creamy semen, gushing from me to
you, washing us clean. Oh, shut up! It’s nonsense. Ignore me. Just enjoy, share my joy.”
Ben hadn’t known quite what to think of Marcie’s words, but he guessed they arose from a
place of dreamy pleasure that he felt she was welcome to enjoy. Now she was quiet as she
held his head in both hands again, but he was still kissing and sucking her nipple, her whole
areola, whilst his fingertips gently stroked the smooth skin over her waist and ribs. He
cherished his intimacy with her, feeling blissfully aroused himself, in his own state of
ecstatic communion. But now Marcie unexpectedly made a shivering quake in his arms as
she convulsively gripped his scalp. He realised what this meant as he delicately drew his
mouth back and raised his head to look into her eyes with sincere concern.
He saw she was indeed crying again, yet it seemed to have come over her more softly and
gently this time, even as her chest shook. She smiled down at him sadly, her hands still
cradling his head, as a tear rolled down her cheek. Ben straightened up to draw her to him
in a compassionate hug, recognising belatedly that she might want comfort more than
intimate stimulation at that moment.
Once again, they rested their heads on each other’s shoulders as they embraced, even
though now Ben was acutely aware of Marcie’s exposed breasts hanging between them,
one nipple slimy with his saliva and perhaps a little sore from his over eager attention. He
felt the wet warmth of Marcie’s cheek against his ear as he deliberately slowed his breath,
imagining that his pounding heartbeat was easing back too, while he waited patiently for
his solid erection to soften.
As Marcie’s soft sobs and sniffs subsided, she whispered in his ear, “Oh Ben, you don’t
think I’ve gone mad do you?”
“No,” he immediately reassured her again, “It’s all okay. We’re good. It’s just been a funny
old day.”
“The things that come out of my mouth though!” she explained, speaking a little louder,
“And what am I doing? Exposing myself at the dinner table, forcing my boob into your
mouth, rubbing myself through my work trousers, trying to get you to eat me when there’s
real food going cold on the table? It’s like I said that first time in the kitchen, about losing
control to Mother Nature’s will. It feels as if there’s a primitive animal inside me that just
takes over when we get close enough to procreate. Like when you said my oven was up to
temperature earlier, I was on the edge of saying, ‘Yes it is! Fill it now with that great
sausage of your manhood!’ I’d have fucked you there, again, in the blink of an eye. She
scares me, and maybe she could terrorise you.”
“Hey, you weren’t trying to do anything I didn’t want to,” he pointed out, “I was really
eager too, just now, really excited, you must have known. I’d happily repeat our kitchen
fuck too, anytime - though the bed’s more comfortable. I think we’re both feeling the
passion strongly, in new love, when we hold each other close, maybe especially because of
the mad things that have happened today. But those things are out there. We’re here
together now, just us, and everything we do together is healthy and caring.”
“You’re so right Ben, just as wise and kind as you always are,” Marcie said, pulling back to
look into his eyes again with an anxious smile, “But what about those mad words?”
“Don’t worry,” Ben said calmly, “They’re not quite real, are they? The goddess and Holy
Mary are just in our heads, the real Shona’s not here - though she’d more likely cackle with
laughter if she’d overheard, rather than be shocked or offended. So the words are private
to us, said just in our own safe den. But I think you’ve got a magical mind. It finds
surprising ideas all the time. And to be honest, a lot of your dreamy words made sense. We
felt close, and you know you’ve given me a new life. I feel like I am divinely blessed, in a
state of grace, but still deep in my body’s senses too, rising to physical ecstasy. Also, your
breasts are sexy, but they could make milk too, and my mouth was working like I was
eating.”
“And we should be eating now!” Marcie wailed, “I know how hungry you were.”
“Come on then,” Ben said pragmatically, taking Marcie’s hands in his and resisting the urge
to lower his eyes to her gaping blouse, “Let’s top up the wine, test what’s still on our plates,
then pop them in the oven for a blast of heat if we need to.”
Marcie agreed, helping him get to his feet, then shyly buttoning her blouse as he went to get
the wine. He’d noticed that Marcie’s glass was empty whilst he’d barely touched his, so he
was more generous toward her as he poured out the last of the old bottle. Once he’d sat
down, they chinked their glasses together again, both taking a slurp of the crisp dry wine
just as if they were starting the meal anew. Ben imitated Marcie as he mixed some food,
pushed it onto his fork and tentatively tried a mouthful, but they both agreed it was still
warm enough to enjoy.
Then Marcie seemed to deliberately divert their conversation back onto a much more light-
hearted course, saying, “Talking of animals inside us, we know you’re a lion, and I’ve got a
bit of vixen in me, but have you ever thought you were like any other beasts or birds?”
“I don’t know,” Ben admitted as he chewed, “And I’m not sure I am the lion. You’re the one
with the strength and courage, the way you stood up to the detective, and Richard too. Also,
you were brave sorting stuff at the university, and finding the lawyer.”
“Oh shut up!” Marcie chastised, her smaller plateful already nearly empty, “This isn’t about
me. I was thinking of those old myths, and Narnia too. Lewis’s talking animals seem pretty
naff to us modern educated adults from the scientific West, but it’s the most natural thing
for children to think that their cute furry or feathered friends can learn to talk, just as
they’ve only recently done themselves. And worldwide there are innumerable stories of
people shifting into animal form, or animal spirits giving wise if enigmatic counsel through
the shaman, or via more grisly auguries. So if you reached into your own shadowy dream
world, what could you be?”
“Erm, a horse maybe,” Ben suggested, “Big and strong, patient and hard-working too, I
hope.”
“Hey! You’re just copying me from earlier, when I said I was an old mare released from her
harness-girdle,” Marcie playfully criticised. She sipped her wine, before reconsidering
thoughtfully, “Or maybe you were inspired by that boy Patch who we saw in town, who
tried to impress me with his running horses tattoo. He was certainly committed to them as
his totem animal to get inked like that. Either way, perhaps that’s okay. You can be the fair
shire horse, a wall of muscle on great hooves like dinner plates, and I’ll be the little pit pony,
as dark as the coal dray that she dutifully hauls, even if she does occasionally give you a
frustrated nip with her big yellow teeth.”
“No, you’re a wild moor’s pony,” Ben corrected her, “Galloping with eyes wide, free as the
wind rushing through your thick mane, sure-footed in moonlight, under the vast star-filled
heavens.”
“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” Marcie conceded, “But galloping under the shadowy
night’s fickle lights makes me think of you dancing at your trance rave parties or whatever
you’d call them, with the music’s rhythm rather than your head leading your body’s
movements. It must be a bit like a shaman’s trance. Do you ever feel as if you’re moving
like an animal there, like you find yourself tapping into a deeper flow than the normal
everyday chatter of humanity?”
“Aye, maybe,” Ben agreed, casting his mind back, but deciding to avoid any mention of the
artificial stimulants or female company that might have inspired his feelings back then, “I
remember noticing my spine moving like a snake, with my arms raised, hips and head led
by its waves. But most of the time I felt more like a bear, heavy-footed, lurching around,
head and paws swinging dangerously. I think my name, Osborne, means bear too.”
“Well, a bear is good,” Marcie reassured her, “He’s definitely a powerful spirit animal for a
shaman to encounter and channel. Like the snake too, the serpent, is-serp in Maltese.
Maybe he seems evil in the Bible, in the Garden of Eden, becoming the object of eternal
enmity, ‘And the seed of the woman shall bruise thy head,’ or whatever it is God says. But
really he’s God’s own agent provocateur, who awakening Adam and Eve from their naivety.
Is-serp is an essential agency in the divine plan, teaching man and woman about the
responsibilities of free will.”
“I’m not sure that’s what I felt, in my spine, or in Roddie, if he’s playing the snake too. It’s
just a good feeling, flexing about. But what about you? Does Tabone have an animal
meaning?” Ben asked, keen to listen to her ideas while he consumed the last of his cooling
meal.
Marcie gave a short bitter laugh, saying, “No! Shall I tell you what my name means? Tabone
comes from a mocking epithet for a fool or a dullard.”
“That’s not you,” Ben said earnestly, “You’re so smart, so clever. You know so much, and
you’re building a brilliant career in academia.”
“Thank you Ben, but I’ve had my foolish moments haven’t I? Anyway, to get back to those
totem animals, you know Manchester’s emblem is a bee, right?” she asked, taking a
restorative sip of her wine, “Well, that’s resonated with me as a symbol for diligent activity,
just like your big farm horse I guess. But the stereotyped busy worker bee is more frenetic
isn’t she? Also bees are so social, but I’m aware I can be quite self-sufficient. They make me
think of wasps too though, and of course they build their nests of paper. So can you imagine
a busy solitary bee-wasp thing that is always out compulsively collecting scraps of paper,
chewing them up to bring back to her nest where she plasters them around her walls to
make a safe and cosy cell? I guess that also means you have to watch out for my sting if I get
wound-up and bothered though. Do you think that sounds like me?”
“Erm, I’m not sure,” Ben said cautiously, swallowing his last mouthful then picking up his
own wineglass, “Bees and wasps have style, like you, but individually they’re maybe, well,
insignificant. Your energy and drive can have a huge influence, I think. You’re more like the
queen, not the worker.”
“Thank you, Ben,” Marcie responded with a smile that he thought seemed slightly sad, then
she explained, “But perhaps the hard truth is that we are insignificant in the big scheme of
things, all just little workers and dancers in this Newcastle hive.”
“You’re not insignificant to me,” Ben reassured her, reaching to grasp her small hand,
“You’re the queen of my world, the sun in my sky, the goddess of our shared secret
kingdom.”
She smiled at him with twinkling eyes as she said, “You’re trying to flatter me, and you
make it all sound like an innocent lover’s poetry, but I know what you believe about the
portal to that secret kingdom now. And I’m warning you, before I let you through there
again, everything needs a serious of a clean-up. We need to tidy this kitchen mess, you need
to have your nice calm relaxing bath, and I’m in dire need of a thorough hosing down too.”
“Well, if you like, I’ll wash up while you have a shower, or you could run the bath and hop
in before me,” Ben suggested, eager to think that Marcie’s hints were indirectly suggesting
they might still make love later.
“Hmm, you’re keen, as ever, aren’t you?” she teased, even as she rose to her feet, “It’s very
early to get ready for bed, but maybe that’s okay after our early start. As for sharing the
bathwater, that’s very kind, but I want it to be your special treat. There will be plenty of
other opportunities to take turns for a quick dunk in a cosy-couple’s way later, I’m sure.
But you might not want to get in the bath after me in my normal routine. These legs and
armpits don’t keep themselves smooth, you know.”
Ben smiled as they stacked the dirty pots by the sink, having moved back to the kitchen
together now, feeling a surprising inner warmth at the thought of being included in
Marcie’s personal routines. It was comforting to feel that she trusted his strong attraction
towards her enough to be confident that he wouldn’t be at all put off by seeing her shaving.
He looked forward to sharing those routines with her, perhaps towelling himself down
after a quick dunk, as she’d put it. He imagined them together on a Sunday afternoon,
chatting about mythological spirit animals in the steamy bathroom while she diligently and
unselfconsciously used her razor.
“Aye, we’re furry mammals after all,” Ben felt safe to joke, “Like I said, I want you to feel
comfortable, whatever we do or don’t do, day to day.”
“If you’re suggesting I could forgo my depilatories, forget it,” Marcie said strictly, “I might
sometimes feel like losing my bra after a stressful day, but I’m not going to let things slip
that far. I don’t want to encourage those old-fashioned sexist jokes about Mediterranean
women’s armpits.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ben protested, “It just seems right, thinking you’d be
comfortable doing things, your usual personal things, with me there too, without worrying.
I’d be happy in that picture, sharing our everyday jobs.”
“Well, if you say so. But speaking of which, won’t you let me help you with the pots?”
Ben already had a bowl of soapy water and put their cleaned water glasses to drain, so he
suggested Marcie help with the drying. As she started, she returned to their earlier more
polite conversation about animals, asking whether his family had kept horses on the farm
when Ben had been growing up. He explained they hadn’t, but neighbours did ride and
breed them in an amateur way, so he had school friends with ponies and later horses,
admitting that one was actually his girlfriend for a short while when he was about sixteen.
Marcie was delighted at this titbit of ancient gossip and immediately asked if this young
woman featured in the story that he’d not got around to telling her about, of the first time
he’d had sex. Ben told Marcie truthfully that she didn’t, then tried to divert the
conversation back to its previous innocent course by asking if horse spirits featured in
Narnia.
If Marcie knew that he’d made a feint, she didn’t protest as she explained, “Yes. As you
maybe noticed, there’s a whole book, The Horse and His Boy, and I remember there’s a big
part for a horse from Victorian London who finds himself in Narnia by accident at its
creation in The Magician’s Nephew. I’d say that’s a better story than The Horse and His
Boy, and I’d recommend it highly, but it’s a while since I reread them. But I don’t think
there are any talking horses in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. You’ll miss your
chance to read some more of it this evening and maybe find out for yourself if we skip my
usual postprandial time with a mug of tea and book on the sofa though.”
Ben guessed what she meant, but a thought occurred to him, “Erm, or maybe not.”
Marcie looked at him suspiciously as she dried one of the pans with the limp tea-towel,
asking, “What are you thinking?”
“Well, it’s just an idea, and you don’t have to agree,” he started explaining, prompting
Marcie to punch him lightly.
“What? Don’t tease, just ask,” she insisted.
“I was thinking of my first night here, when you read to me. I enjoyed that. Could you do
that again, while I soak in the bath? How would you feel about it? Only say yes if you’d
enjoy it too.”
“Of course. I’d love to do that with you!” Marcie enthusiastically agreed, “But what were
you thinking I’d read? It was Mort on that first night, but I think you’ve two other books on
the go, under my bad influence. Did you think it would be sexy for me to read Tracy Cox’s
Hot Sex aloud to you?”
“No,” Ben immediately responded, even though the unexpected suggestion appealed at
some level, “No, it was Narnia I was thinking of.”
“Where are you up to in the book?” Marcie asked.
Ben tried to remember the details as he scrubbed at the oven pan, which he’d left to last,
“Erm, Edmund had got to Narnia and run into the queen. She’d charmed him with treats,
then tasked him to bring the others to her palace, to find his way between two round hills,
it seemed. Then she’d left, but Lucy had found him, and they were about to go home, if
that’s the right word.”
“Yes, I remember,” Marcie said thoughtfully, smirking at the suggestive details he’d
described, “And I think there’s about to be some angst and sibling conflict to play out
before all the children get into Narnia together, when the real drama starts to unfold. But
you are getting into their story?”
“Aye,” Ben admitted, “I thought the children spoke strangely at first, like they were too old
fashioned and adult to believe. But I think I feel for them now. Edmund’s clearly meant to
be horrid, but I feel sorry for him too. I wondered if the whole story’s really about him.”
“Hmm, that’s not something that might be obvious to the reader the first time around,”
Marcie remarked, finishing off the drying up as Ben drained the washing up water away.
“Maybe I’ve some sympathy for him, as the younger brother. He’s petty and selfish, but
that must come from frustration, especially if Peter’s rubbing his nose in his faults, his
shortcomings, all the time,” Ben explained, borrowing wet tea-towel while that Marcie still
clutched to dry his own big hands a little.
“I think you’re right. Did you want more wine, by the way?” Marcie asked, but Ben thought
not, so they both agreed they’d have a tea instead. Then Marcie went reflectively on as she
moved around Ben to fill the kettle, “But maybe Lewis wrote the Pevensie children to be a
simple model that pretty much any child could fit their family to, so long as they’re not a
singleton, though there are characters in other the books for only children too. The
Pevensies are also a model for the personality types, had you noticed? Have you heard of
the old Greek theory of the four humours for the human body and medicine, and how
character goes with that? It’s an idea that went right through medieval times, probably
holding back proper useful medicine. So, let me think, Edmund’s a brooding melancholic,
Peter’s a fiery choleric, Lucy is the happy-go-lucky sanguine type, and Susan is practical
and phlegmatic, or maybe the girls are the other way around.”
“No, that makes a whole lot of sense, even if I didn’t know all those technical words,” Ben
agreed sincerely, “But I guess that begs the question, who do you think you’re like, or who
would you want to be?”
“Oh, I always wanted to be Lucy, with her love of life, and her love of Aslan too, though that
sours a bit when you realise he’s meant to be Jesus,” Marcie said with an enthusiasm that
turned suddenly to what seemed like slight disgust.
“I hope this doesn’t sound funny, but I want to be Lucy too,” Ben admitted sheepishly,
making Marcie laugh, “But I think I worry that I’ve got a lot of Edmund in me too.”
“Hey, it’s no bad thing to be a little self-critical, it’s better than being the righteous holier-
than-thou Peter, but you can be confident I don’t see Edmund in you. Maybe we each have a
bit of all of them inside us, so each of those old enduring characters and behaviours come
out in our moods and outward actions sometimes. But I can let you join the Lucy Pevensie
Fan Club with me, even if you’re about fifteen years late and it breaks the ‘only girls
allowed’ rule, when I think back to when Amber wrote that postcard you’re using as a
bookmark.”
Ben chuckled too as he took the hot mug of tea from Marcie. “Thanks,” he said, perhaps for
the invitation to the club as well as the tea, then asked, “Do you want to drink these in the
bathroom then?”
“Ooh, you are keen, aren’t you?” Marcie teased, “Well, do you want to find some candles
and whatever else you want while I have my shower quickly? There might be some on the
bookcase, or in that kitchen drawer, or even in my dressing table, if you’re brave enough to
go in there. I’ll leave the door ajar.”
Chapter 34
Despite her joking remarks about him being over-eager, Ben noted that Marcie did not
hesitate to seize the initiative by going straight to the bathroom with her mug of tea,
swinging the door to before starting the shower. He imagined her undressing quickly in
there, stripping down then stepping into the bathtub to get under the water, perhaps
rinsing her tear-streaked face before lathering up her soap and washing away the stresses
of the day. However he did not disturb her as he heard the water splashing; instead he took
a slurp of his own tea before searching the kitchen drawer for the candles. Still, as he
rummaged around, he couldn’t help thinking about her naked body under the steaming
water, glistening and slick as she sloughed off the evidence of her labours and angst which
he’d smelt on her skin.
He found only a box of matches in the draw, so he moved through to the bedroom to look
for the candles as she’d mentioned were there. He found his used gym kit was still hung up
in an unsightly way though, so he hastily tidied that away then put the airer back in the hall
cupboard. Back in the bedroom, he drew the curtains and put a lamp on, before cautiously
opening the draw in Marcie’s dressing table, trying not to knock anything over.
It wasn’t hard to find the box of creamy white tapered candles, though he couldn’t see any
candlesticks that she might have been using in the bedroom. He did notice the incense
holder as he scanned around, which he picked it up, emptying the ash into the wastepaper
basket under Marcie’s table, thinking to light a joss stick in the bathroom too. He slipped it
into the box of candles, which he carried with his bundle of used clothes to the living room,
where he picked up incense and the candlesticks that he had seen on Marcie’s bookshelves.
These were a couple of stubby candle holders in brightly coloured orange and green
ceramic, and a classic candelabra of tarnished brass with three stems, which he now
wished he’d thought to use earlier to light their dinner table. He gripped these between his
fingers under the pile on his arm as he went through the kitchen, picking up his mug with
his free hand before pushing the bathroom door.
“Oh, well done. You’ve found them,” Marcie stated as she saw what he was carrying.
He’d noticed the sound of the shower had already stopped, but Marcie must have only just
finished. She was still standing in the bath as he’d come in, dabbing herself with her towel,
with nothing on except her water-splashed glasses and his silver hammer, just as he’d
imagined. The way that she clutched her towel to herself, covering one breast and her vulva,
but leaving so much still exposed, reminded Ben of how he’d seen her naked for the first
time. Her ineffective modesty seemed to only make her sexier, the perfect nude that artists
had tried to capture in those old marble statues, yet warm and alive. But back then when
she’d taken her pyjamas off, she’d perhaps felt a bit shy of his eyes on her, whilst in
contrast she now seemed casually confident, just following her usual bathroom routine
whilst he was around.
“Erm, aye,” Ben said, bringing his thoughts back to their plan as he raised his eyes from her
naked curves and put his mug down, asking, “Will you have enough light, to read, I mean?”
“I think so, if you put that big one on the toilet cistern, Marcie reassured him, smiling
broadly as she wrapped her towel around herself, explaining, “Then it will be behind me if
I’m sitting on the lid with the book. You can have the two little ones on the edge of the
bath.”
Ben moved around her to place the candlesticks where she’d suggested while she wrapped
her dripping hair in her second towel. He resisted the urge to paw at her as he brushed
passed, but still couldn’t help himself from checking the smooth shadows under her raised
arms. As Marcie picked up her own mug of tea from the windowsill to drain it, he stepped
over the pile of her discarded clothes as he put his own bundle from the gym into the
laundry basket.
Marcie obviously noticed this, as she said, “Oh, I’m sorry I just dropped those on the floor.
You could do me a favour by dumping them in the basket too.” Then a thought seemed to
occur to her as she urgently added, “But please don’t try repeating that trick where you
sniffed my knickers!” Ben wondered what she meant even as she moderated her
instruction, “Or at least not while I’m in the room. I’m a bit embarrassed about the slimy
trail I’ve made. It must have happened when I tried to get you to eat my boob instead of
your dinner.”
Ben saw what she meant when he noticed her satin knickers, lying on top of the pile as if
Marcie had just stepped out of them. A glance was all he needed to see the smear of glossy
residue of the inner side of the front panel’s navy fabric. He was actually rather excited to
think that she might have been oozing her natural vaginal lubrication earlier, as it gave
away just how aroused she had been in that moment of emotional passion. He was also a
little surprised at Marcie’s thought that he might be tempted to put them to his face when
she wasn’t there. It certainly hadn’t been on his mind, but now that she’d planted the idea,
he was strangely tempted to try it. Her bodily odours and the musky scent of her vulva
especially must surely be there, perhaps rising as he warmed her knickers back to body
temperature with his own hands and breath. The possibility of burying his nose in them
seemed to be at the worrying boundary between erotic arousal and a disgusting fetish,
intriguing and yet possibly leading to somewhere that he might regret going. Yet he stuck
to the polite course of action by simply picking the whole bundle up, before dropping it on
top of his own dirty clothes.
“I can wash it all later, next week, while you’re at work,” he said vaguely as he turned by to
her, avoiding the more ambiguous topic of what he’d imagined doing with her dirty
underwear.
“Thank you, my helpful little elf,” Marcie said teasingly, coming towards him to hold his
cheeks and crane her neck up for a big soft kiss. She let Ben turn that into something more
serious as her mouth opened to accept his eager tongue. But they only lapped at each other
for a moment before Marcie pulled back to say, “That’s enough. I want to finish drying my
hair properly before we get too involved again. Why don’t you start running your bath
while I do that? You can see the bubble-bath there too, alright? And it looks like you’ve left
it for me to find the actual blessed book if we’re going ahead with your soppy plan!”
As Ben thanked her, she left the bathroom with her empty mug, promising to be back soon.
Ben pushed the door to behind her so that he could swing the glass shower screen out to
reach the bath’s plug and taps. As he knelt down on the damp shower mat, he heard Marcie
moving around in the kitchen, but that was drowned out by the loud gush of water and
rumbling boiler as he opened the tap wide. It was soon running hot, so as the bath began to
slowly fill, Ben took Marcie’s bottle of bubble-bath and poured a generous slug of the red
gloop in. The label said something about muscle soak, which he thought sounded good after
his gym session and trips around the perimeters of Jesmond. As the pleasant spicy smell
rose from the foaming water, he finished his own tea, then started setting up the candles
and incense.
The tall tapering candles fitted the holders well, standing stable and upright as he lit the
candelabra, with the joss stick next to it, and then the stubby ceramic candlesticks, placing
them on the edge of the bath. With the bath still filling, he turned the lights out and saw
how dark the room was. Hoping it would still be okay for Marcie’s reading, he stepped out
to turn the kitchen light off, making the candles seem a little more effective. Satisfied, he
undressed, folding his jeans to wear tomorrow but dropping his t-shirt and pants into the
laundry basket, resisting the slight temptation to examine Marcie’s dirty knickers more
closely.
He was aware that he was still a little aroused from the strange mixture of intense intimacy,
uninhibited tears and innocent chatter he’d shared with Marcie. As he knelt back down
beside the bath to test the hot water, fiddling with the taps to get the final temperature
right, he felt his penis hanging down heavily, thick and elongated but not erect. He slowed
the taps’ flow, playing his hands through the water and bubbles, and began reflecting a
little more deeply on the day. His thoughts moved beyond his poignant evening with Marcie
and their shared physical activities, back to their gut-wrenchingly awful row and the
distressing fire.
He had certainly been upset this morning, but perhaps that was merely the stress of getting
pulled in and interviewed by the police, as well as the blunt shock of seeing the ruined
workshop and the nuisance of the looming admin tasks. It felt as if those external forces
had more to do with his passing low moods than the actual loss of his old flat and the stuff
that was in it. He wondered if at some deep level he’d already turned his back on that old
life, so that the physical destruction of all its material trappings was a mere confirmation
that it had passed, that that chapter of his life was now unequivocally over.
He thought what that meant as he stopped the taps and stood up, stretching as he
straightened out in the steamy air with its wafts of fragrant smoke. In some sense he’d
been liberated to focus all his attention on his new life here with Marcie, celebrating their
shared companionship. She would help him find a new way to balance his health and his
vocation, and perhaps he’d take the lion’s share of the domestic arrangements, putting her
brilliant emergent career before his own plans. He also realised that focus, on the future
rather than the past, explained why he’d been far more upset by their row than by the
whole fire.
He recalled the agony of his brief alienation from her, when he’d felt so desperately lost,
and also so ashamed of his careless words. He recognised that their brief falling-out had
struck him far deeper and far more painfully than the loss of his old home and possessions,
yet that seemed quite right to him. He knew that what he now had with Marcie was far
more precious than material things. In some sense, he almost felt glad of their row, if it had
made them both recognise how valuable their new relationship was. Their brief argument
had triggered a mutual desperation to fix things, to urgently repair the damage and any
hurt feelings. He felt it had helped them see that they were both sincere in their shared
commitment to their new life together, and it gave Ben confidence that if they quarrelled
again, they could recover safely and quickly.
These thoughts had run through his mind quickly as he stood over the bath, feet apart,
arms above his head, alternate hands on elbows, stretching his muscles. Now he heard the
rustle of Marcie’s approach over the soft crackling hiss of the bursting bubbles. He turned
to the door as she tentatively opened it, pushing the shower screen back, returning her
warm smile. He saw that she’d dried and plaited her hair, and that she was wearing her
white nightdress as well as her blue silk robe, open and loose over her shoulders. Her
towels were draped over one arm, whilst in her hands she clutched her cherished book and
to Ben’s slight surprise, a fresh glass of wine.
“Oh, it’s lovely in here,” she immediately said, “You’ve turned it into a magical nocturnal
sanctuary. It smells exotic too, so long as you’re sure you’re okay with the incense. It’s too
warm for this dressing gown though,” she judged, putting her glass down and dropping the
towels before shucking it off her shoulders and laying it over the laundry basket, carefully
placing the familiar book on top. As she hung up the discarded towels, he asked, “Did you
want another glass of wine too, by the way? I thought I’d go for it after all when I went to
dry my hair, as it still feels like a special evening after a trying day.”
Ben said that he still thought he’d go without, as she stepped up close to him, laying one
hand on the bulge of his pectoral muscle and, to his further surprise, gently taking his long
soft penis in her other. “Meanwhile, best of all, I see this enchanted grotto has its own
resident satyr, or mythological demigod-hero, a blonde northern Perseus of my own to play
with.”
Ben felt his erection stretch and rise to firm rigidity in Marcie’s delicate hand as she raised
her other hand to his face, tracing his lips and cheeks with her fingertips. As she gazed with
earnest concern into his eyes, her face now framed by his own big hands which he’d
brought to the back of her head, she asked softly, “Are you okay?”
“Aye, I’m better than that. I’m utterly happy,” Ben replied confidently, finding it a little
difficult to concentrate in his rising excitement, as Marcie now wrapped her hidden hand
softly around the base of his shaft and his scrotum. He felt himself spasm as his glans
strained to escape his foreskin, but he took a slow breath and tried to explain, “I was
thinking just now, the fire was bad, but I felt worse about our row. Yet because it happened,
I feel we’re stronger, like we’ll come through anything now, always coming back together
again, even if we row again. I love you Marcie, I feel that even stronger now.”
“Oh Ben, I love you too, heart and soul,” she responded with yearning sincerity, dropping
him suddenly to wrap her arms around him, so that his erection was now squashed against
her chest, tangling in the loose folds of her nightdress just beneath her soft breasts. He
hugged her to him, feeling the hard edge of her glasses pressing into his collarbone even as
he relished the close touch of her body, with the warmth of her skin brushing him
intimately through the soft white cotton.
“You talk of strong feelings,” she mused softly as she rested her head against his bare
shoulder, “Well I’ve never known feelings as strong as these that I have for you now. I said
it scares me, the sudden depth of my need for you, but maybe I’m learning to trust my own
instincts. They brought us together and now they seem to be binding us together, but it also
seems that we both recognise that and we’re okay with it. Our eyes are open to what’s
happening, what we might be committing to, and we’re happy to take that on, taking it
seriously as well as taking joy from it. In that mutual dependence, the storms of the cruel
outside world and even our own careless mistakes are only making us closer. Maybe it’s
easier to think we’re in the care of that angel you spoke of, trusting him or her to lift us into
new open skies on those wings of true love.”
Ben knew that she was right, even if he guiltily felt a little sorry that she wasn’t just giving
him the chance to gratify his bodily urges. A part of him had hoped that she’d encourage
him to rub his penis against her breast, as he had done before with selfish over-enthusiasm
in this same situation, naked in the bathroom against her soft nightdress. He let that urgent
pressure of his eager arousal fade away though as his erection now softened, thinking
instead of Marcie’s tender and sincere thoughts.
“I think I know what you’re saying,” he responded carefully, “And I’m glad we’re honest
about sharing our feelings. I guess we’re both finding a new future, exploring unknown
lands. But we can do that together, and we can make them our magical secret Narnia. I have
faith in that angel too, even if we’re just dreaming her up for ourselves. Maybe she’s
Mother Nature herself, as you said, taking our hands and folding them together, knowing
neither of us could find anyone better to fulfil her plan, making a fertile lifelong union,
letting our fresh tender sapling grow to that mighty oak.”
“Oh, you’re so right Ben,” she said, pulling belly and hips against him even as she leant back
to look up into his face with a broad grin, “We’re embedded in such natural impulses, eager
to make love, but now desperately keen to stay in love for the long term too. But I’ve been
teasing you again, haven’t I? Tickling your most intimately personal parts and winding you
up, but not letting you satisfy your masculine urges, and all the while distracting you from
your lovely innocent plan in your special bath. I haven’t made you want to abandon it, have
I?”
“No,” Ben reassured her, “Maybe my urges, my crude and obscene hard-on, just prove I
need to relax, to share that innocent story with you instead. As for the bath, if it’s cooled, I
can top it with hot.”
“Oh, don’t say your erection is obscene,” Marcie reassure him, standing on tiptoes to peck
his lips before continuing, “It’s wonderfully healthy and natural, just as we said, as well as
being excitingly sexy for me to see and touch. And the innocent story isn’t instead of
anything, it’s as well as, I hope. I’d like you to still have your urges once you’ve soaked your
cares away, because I’ve got urges too, as you may have realised.” She bounced up to give
him another pecked kiss, then released him, letting his engorged penis flop down between
them, saying, “So go on, why don’t you test the water?”
Ben smiled happily at her, then turned to the bath, raising his foot, but hesitating and
turning back. Feeling a little embarrassed and foolish, he explained his thoughts, “Marcie, I
hope you don’t think I’m daft, but this feels like a special moment, bathing in our magic
nocturnal grotto, as you put it. It almost feels like we need a prayer, do you know what I
mean? But I don’t know how to make one.”
Marcie was already sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, finding Ben’s place in her book.
She looked up with surprise, but smiled kindly as she said, “Oh, well that shouldn’t be too
hard. Let’s see,” she cleared her throat, took a sip of wine, then began in a low steady and
clear tone, “Holy queen of the night, goddess of the Moon and stars, universal mother, we
are in your care, and we give thanks for the love you have kindled in us. By your grace, we
ask that you bless our home, our shared lives and this baptismal bath, in which my lover,
Ben Osborne, will immerse his precious body. May he be healed, purified and revivified by
it, and may we both find mutual bliss, contented rest and lifelong fortune as we
subsequently share in your vital energies of life.”
“So may it be,” Ben found himself solemnly saying as she concluded her surprisingly
heartfelt and powerful prayer. Spontaneously he stepped forward and held his big hands
out. Marcie gripped them while still seated, and they looked into each other’s eyes with
warm affection. Ben wondered if there were welling tears in Marcie’s wide brown eyes that
echoed his own stinging eyes. He felt sure that she’d conjured up something that was
genuinely spiritual and profound, even if they were just making it up as they went along.
Standing naked before her, he felt somehow honest and humble in his exposed masculinity,
adult and potently virile, yet also as pure and unblemished as a newborn child with his
whole life ahead of him. In contrast, Marcie seemed like the white-robed priestess seated
on her throne, serene and transcendent, an initiate of the secrets encoded in those strange
ancient myths. As he gazed down at her kind upturned face, glowing in the candlelight, he
felt utterly supported by her smiling encouragement.
“Thank you Marcie,” he said simply, then he dropped her hands and turned to step into the
bath.
After that, the sensation of the warm bath on his feet and ankles was something of an anti-
climax. He lowered his hips into the bathtub, immersing his genitals and his legs, which he
found he could just about stretch out to their full length under the thin foam that was left.
But when he experimented with raising his knees and lowering his back into the water, he
felt a little more as if he were pushing through a boundary, submerging himself into a
magically healing pool. He rose again, splashing the water over his face and head a few
times, pulling his foreskin over his sensitive glans, then reaching for the hot tap to set a
trickle flowing, hoping to bring the temperature back up a little. The boiler on the wall
behind him came to life with a rattling purr, and he apologised to Marcie for it.
She’d obviously been watching him play in the water, waiting for the right moment to start
reading from the open book in her lap. She reassured him that the noise was nothing, then
asked if he was ready for her to begin. Ben confirmed he was as he reclined in the bath
again, grabbing his towel to quickly improvise a pillow. Then Marcie’s voice began
unrolling the story as Edmund and Lucy returned from Narnia, triggering a spiteful scene
between the siblings. Ben felt calm as he kept listening, his hands coming to rest naturally
on his penis and scrotum, yet they remained still. If Marcie looked up or noticed him, she
gave no hint of it as she read on confidently and smoothly, without stumbling and only
briefly pausing to sip her wine. It made Ben feel a little ashamed of his own poor literacy,
but he knew Marcie had only kind sympathy for that too.
Ben listened as Peter chastised Edmund, before going to the professor with Susan to talk
about their concerns for Lucy’s sanity. He turned the dribbling tap off while the professor
argued that Lucy’s hidden world may be real, as the bath was now quite full and hot
enough to make his cheeks feel flushed. With the boiler falling silent, he sunk deeper into
dreamy relaxation under the spell of Marcie’s steady voice, hearing how all the children
were almost chased into the wardrobe together by the housekeeper, then found themselves
in “Lucy’s wood”, as Peter called it. Peter apologised to Lucy formally and concisely in a
way that reminded Ben of the apologies that he and Marcie had exchanged earlier, then
Edmund gave himself away as a liar. But when the children found Mister Tumnus’s cave
ruined, with charred sticks and ashes scattered across the floor, Marcie paused.
She apologised to Ben, obviously sensitive to the empathy that he felt for the destruction of
the faun’s home, saying that she’d forgotten that was coming up. Ben reassured her that he
did not mind, that it only brought the story to life a little more, then asked her what
happened next. So she read on a little further on, giving voice to Peter as he read aloud the
sinister note about the faun’s arrest. When Lucy spoke up to say that they must try to
rescue him, Ben interrupted to suggest they leave it there. Marcie agreed, saying that it was
surely a turning point in the story, when the children commit themselves to a quest that
they know nothing about.
Ben watched her close the book and carefully lay it aside on her silk robe, then belatedly
thought to give himself an actual wash. Marcie asked what he thought of the story now as
he began to quickly soap up, rubbing his face first. He explained he liked the professor’s
views, listing them once he’d rinsed his face and begun lathering the rest of his body,
working quickly under his armpits and across his chest, then his under his feet and finally,
twisting out of the bath, around his anus and diminished penis. He remembered the old
man’s logic about taking someone else’s supernatural vision on faith if they were usually
truthful and of good character, then his insistence on the plausibility of parallel worlds, and
finally his concluding judgement that the other children should simply mind their own
business.
As he splashed around, washing the soap off, Marcie pointed out that the professor’s voice
may have been the author’s own, and that last injunction reminded her of the quote from
Queen Elizabeth the First, that she would not open windows into men’s souls. Ben hadn’t
heard it before, so she explained it meant that the authorities should not care if their
citizens were Catholic or Protestant, so long as they did their duty by the local church in
their outward acts. Ben wondered if that meant Lewis might have had pagan sympathies
even though he was a professed Christian, but Marcie said she thought not as she looked
down at him with a kind smile. She explained the man was such an enthusiastic convert and
worked so hard at proselytising the Christian message that even though he was clearly
enthusiastic for myths and folklore from many sources, he can’t have believed they were in
any way as true as the Gospels were to him.
As Ben finished rinsing himself down, pulled out the plug and moved to get up from the
bath, Marcie sprang to her feet to help him with his towel. She shook out the squashed
bolster pillow that he’d made of it as he stepped from the bathtub, then shyly pecked his
lips as he took it from her, before retreating to her seat and picking up her wineglass as if
hiding behind it. Ben felt a little embarrassed too, as his former arousal had now receded.
He realised that Marcie’s eyes may have been on his manhood when she asked if he’d been
masturbating while she’d read to him. He said not as he kept towelling himself down,
explaining that wouldn’t have seemed right at all, even though he admitted it was
comfortable to rest his hands on his Roddie. He considered asking the same question of her,
thinking of how she had spontaneously tried to rub herself through her clothes while he’d
sucked her breast earlier, but he was almost certain that she had not, that she could not
have whilst she’d been concentrating hard on reading aloud so well.
Instead he explained as he hung up his towel, “I was just relaxing, letting the story in your
words reach me. You read so beautifully, I’m very grateful.”
“Well thank you for the undeserved compliment,” she responded, “But I’m glad you
managed to relax, as I thought that was the general idea when you first said you’d like a
good soak. But do you perhaps feel healed, purified and revived too, if that’s what I prayed
for?”
“Yes I do,” he admitted, turning towards her and holding out his hand to take hers, “But
you’ve helped so much with each of those anyway, since I first walked into your flat, I
think.”
“Oh Ben, you know you’ve helped me too,” she said, setting her glass aside and rising to her
feet again to put her hand on his chest. Then she looked up with a coquettish smile as she
said, “But I’m very interested to know if you felt revived in one quite specific part of your
body.”
Ben put his own free hand to the curls of dark hair that escaped her plait behind her ear as
he replied, “I think I know what you mean, but as you can see, he’s become quite relaxed
too. Still, I’m quite sure, if we kissed and cuddled again, he’d soon be proud and ready for
action, in just the twinkling of an eye.”
Chapter 35
Indeed, he could feel himself responding to Marcie’s close presence already, the touch of
her hand on his bare skin, her soft warm skin under his own fingertips, their gently held
hands and even her subtle fragrances. He deliberately breathed in the scents of her clean
body, her slightly worn nightdress and her wine-tinted breath.
Marcie may have noticed his heavy in-breath or the subtle movement of his reawakening
arousal, as she said, “Come on, let’s move from the childish innocence of Lucy and
Edmund’s secret world to the adult potency of Roddie and Vixen’s magical den. Take a sip
of my wine and imagine it’s a crystal chalice. Like your prayer, we can make this our
personal heretical Eucharist.”
Ben was a little unsure about what she had in mind but was happy to go along with it as he
dropped his hands and stepped back a little, letting Marcie pick up her wineglass in both
her hands. She held it up between them and solemnly said, “May this wine be the living sap
of the fertile Mother Earth and warm Sun’s summer king. By taking it into our bodies, may
we be united in true love, primal and supreme, sensuous and divine, fleeting and eternal. In
this shared covenant, let us drink of life’s essence.”
Ben was once again awestruck by her creative and heartfelt words as she lifted the glass to
his lips. He drank a sip as she tilted it up high for him, feeling the tangy liquid slip down his
throat, then took it from her hands to offer the last of the wine back to her. As he tipped the
glass up for her and she drained it, he simply repeated just the words, “Life’s essence.”
Marcie gave him a huge grin as he lowered the glass, then surprised him by lifting her arms
over her head to grasp her nightdress and pull it up and over her body in one smooth
movement. Suddenly she was naked before him, her bushy vulva and heavy breasts
exposed just before his own bare torso. Dropping her bundled nightdress on top of her
robe and the book, she said seductively, “Now let me lead you to our shared bed to see if we
can make that fleeting union a reality.”
“Aye, two become one,” Ben responded dumbly, thinking of the line he’d put in his card to
her again.
“As you say,” Marcie replied with a twinkling smirk, before turning to the candelabra and
blowing out the candles, filling the air with a waxy smell. Ben turned too, thinking to do the
same for the pair that were still burning by the bath, but Marcie stopped him, saying, “No,
let’s carry those through to light our way.”
Ben watched as Marcie swiped a towel from the rack to drape it over her arm before
picking up the green ceramic candlestick. Ben took the orange one as well as her wineglass,
asking her if she wanted it topped up, which she agreed to. Then, after casting a smile over
her shoulder toward him, she nudged the bathroom door aside and began walking slowly
through the flat.
Ben immediately saw the living room lights were already off, like those in the kitchen, but
there was still enough light from their flickering candles for him to clearly see her naked
body’s graceful movement as she led the way. She paused while he opened the fridge,
letting its light spill out as he topped up her glass with the fresh and chilly wine, then paced
on through the dark living room once he was ready. As he followed her through the room
and along the awkward hallway, moving carefully so as not to drip wax, he watched the
curving lines of her short well-toned legs, her wide hips and round buttocks, her slim waist,
her elegant spine and her mole-dappled shoulders, under the short dark rope of her
braided hair.
For some obscure reason, he was reminded of their earlier playful conversation about
spirit animals, and imagined her nude body with its perfect femininity intersecting with the
spirit form of a moor’s pony. Her thick hair could be that of its tail or mane, whilst she drew
down the wild strength of the animal’s forces in her stamina, her stoicism, her wilfulness
and, for those who earnt it, her trust and fidelity.
When Marcie pushed the bedroom door open, Ben realised that one bedside light was on,
but once they were in and she’d put her candle down next to it, she turned it off. Ben
solemnly took his to the other bedside table, placing the wineglass beside it, then they
looked at each other across the folded-down duvet. Seeing Marcie standing at ease and
naked in the candlelight brought further strange thoughts to Ben’s mind. She was
wonderfully sexy of course, from the dark triangle of her pubic hair framed by her wide
hips and her softly toned belly, past her heavy round breasts with her tempting nipples in
their wide areolae, dusky in the low light, to her warm face with her strong jaw and
twinkling eyes under those intellectual glasses. Yet she also seemed like a supernatural
being, neither human nor animal, but the dream spirit of some divine ideal or impossibly
pure feminine essence, the perfect angelic projection of his heart’s deepest desire.
And it was her who unfroze him by simply asking, “So shall we have a cuddle then?”
“I’d like that,” he admitted, with utter conviction.
They both scrambled onto the white sheet, thrusting their feet under the duvet as they
shuffled towards each other, lying on their sides as they faced each other. Ben’s arousal had
already been stirred by the physical sensation of his reclining contact with the cotton bed
sheets, but when he put his arm around Marcie’s shoulder and brought her bare skin
against his, it surged. She’d wrapped her own arm around his chest, and he enjoyed the
reassuring firmness of her captivating hug, yet the sensations ran right up his body. He felt
the touch of their thighs, his hairy and rough against her smooth toned muscles, the
brushing contact of their stomachs, the soft pressure of Marcie’s breasts pushing
delightfully against his chest, and the sensation of his rising penis grazing her Vixen. He
was not sure if he was merely pressing against the crease of her thigh or her vulva itself,
but he clearly felt the tickling pressure of her springy pubic hair, and the combined stimuli
made him dizzy.
They’d brought their faces so close together that their noses were almost touching, yet they
were both resting their heads on the pillows, staring into each other’s eyes in an unfocused
way, Ben feeling sure that he was mirroring the huge, contented grin that he saw on
Marcie’s wide mouth. This time he made the first move, lifting his head and rolling over her
to bring them closer still, then planting a kiss on her lips.
She responded slowly, just pressing her closed mouth to his for a few moments, then
relaxing her jaw and letting him tentatively explore her lips with his tongue. He could taste
the sour fruitiness of the wine there, just as it was on her breath, but it only warmed his
affection for her, confirming her as an earthly living creature and not some supernatural
divine dream spirit. Then her own slick tongue was playing with his, leading their kiss back
toward the more passionate intensity of their mealtime, lapping and sucking in uninhibited
enthusiasm, whilst they also writhed against each other with chaotic and impulsive
movements in their legs, arms and torsos. Yet seemingly they both now had less urgency,
taking the time to relish the sensations, even as Ben’s arousal kept pressing firmly against
Marcie’s soft skin somewhere down in the darkness between them.
Marcie must have noticed how hard his erection had become, as when their lips parted for
a moment, she murmured between pecked kisses, “Roddie’s ready to go, isn’t he? I’d like
him inside me. But I don’t want you getting as breathless as you were after our night out.
So I’d like to try being on top. I could ride you, my great shire horse, setting my own a
gentle trotting pace while you lie calm and relaxed.”
“That sounds good,” Ben murmured back, but he doubted that he would last long before
achieving orgasm like that, and he wanted to do more for Marcie, to draw out the pleasure
in this delicious haven that they’d reached. To try and put more thought into their shared
private world, rather than just following his body’s mindless impulse, he observed, “But I
don’t really feel as if we’re horses, now we’re here. We’re too close and cosy in our nest,
our burrow.”
Marcie pulled her head back a little to look into his eyes with a suspicious smile, though still
pushing herself firmly against his erection with her hips. She remarked, “I thought we were
getting away from innocent children’s stories to focus our potent adult sexuality, but if you
want to keep playing those games too, what animals would you say we were now?”
“Rabbits,” Ben blurted out, saying the first thing that came into his head, “They’re cute and
cuddly, aren’t they? If I forget the farming nuisance stuff. They have their burrows, and
they’re sexually potent.”
“Well yes,” Marcie agreed, cuddling herself against him now, pecking his ear and his neck
with her lips. Ben inhaled deeply as he felt a thrilling surge of pleasure from the sensations
of her soft wet lips, and of her bare skin against his, all down his body. His suggestion had
prompted her to recall fragments from her vast knowledge of mythology too, and she
shared this as they tangled together, “The rabbit or hare represented love and fertility in
the Classical world. She was sacred to Aphrodite, and symbolised rebirth. I think the
Chinese see a rabbit in the Moon, mixing the elixir of life. And the Anglo-Saxon’s Eostre,
goddess of spring, is obviously associated with the hare too.”
“I knew that last one,” Ben admitted, though another thought had occurred to him. As he
luxuriated in the close contact with Marcie’s naked body, he explained, “But it’s their fur
too, I was thinking. You know how soft it is? I had a rabbit skin, as a boy, and I loved
stroking it.”
“Oh, so the man finds sexual excitement in the boy’s comforter. No wonder you fixated on
the fur coats at the portal to Narnia!” Marcie teased, looking down her proud nose at him
again through her crooked glasses and deliberately grinding her pubic mound against his
tumescent penis now.
Gasping in his body’s visceral excitement, Ben managed to say, “Maybe. I love your fur,
your Vixen’s bush. I loved burying my face in it that other night. I want to be there again,
now!”
Marcie became still and looked at him seriously, “Really, Ben? I just wanted us to be close
tonight, after everything today. I wanted us to make love properly, to become one.”
“And we still can,” Ben reassured her, “If you still want me inside you, once I’ve brought
you some pleasure. So will you let me go down now?”
“But I want it to be pleasant for you too,” Marcie protested.
“You know how much it turned me on. You saw I’d almost come just by being there. It was
wonderful, I felt so close to you,” Ben again assured her, then asking, “But did you enjoy it?
Would you like it again, now?”
“Yes!” Marcie said with heartfelt emphasis, “Holy Mary, it was amazing, transcendent! I
want it, but I feel so guilty.”
“Well don’t,” Ben said firmly, “I’ve asked three times now, remember? You know I’m
serious. And this is me making love to you. I couldn’t be closer. It’s not our union, but it is a
magical rite, kissing your body’s natural divine chalice. Now just lie back, and let me attend
to you.”
Ben deliberately put a hand to her shoulder to push her back onto her pillow as he made to
roll on top of her, moving from his hip. He felt he was being bossy, but he wanted to firmly
put an end to Marcie’s worries. He guessed that if he could just get started, her fizzing mind
would stop protesting as the sensations in her body began to rise. And she did comply,
becoming prone under him as he put his elbows down on either side of her chest.
Hanging over her, he lowered his parted lips to hers as if it were a tender parting kiss, soft
and wet but gentle and calm without their tongues. She smiled up at him, her olive skin and
her pink cheeks glowing in the candlelight, and he knew that he was smiling back, perhaps
excessively in his satisfaction at getting his wish and in his anticipation of what he might
achieve. He knew that he’d feel both indecently proud and profoundly aroused if he
brought her to orgasm again with his lips and tongue.
Suddenly Marcie’s dark eyebrows creased as she seemed to remember something, perhaps
thinking along the same lines as him. “Ooh, my towel,” she said practically, “I’m sorry, but I
brought it just in case. I’d feel better if I was sitting on it. And you’re sure that really don’t
mind if I leak a bit?”
“I said, it only adds to the excitement. We both know that now,” Ben reassured her as he
pushed himself up onto one hand to reach over the edge of the bed for her dropped towel.
As she took it from him, she wriggled beneath him, getting it under her bottom. This also
seemed to bring them into the perfect missionary position, Ben propped up on his arms, his
hands by Marcie’s shoulders, pressing more weight through his knees where they rested
between her parted thighs, whilst her hands were on his hips, now that they’d finished
fiddling with the towel. His long stiff penis stuck out directly above her wide triangle of
pubic hair, its exposed bright red head touching her between her vulva and her bellybutton.
He saw all this as he glanced down past Marcie’s wide pooling breasts with their dusky
crinkled areolae and erect nipples, and once again he felt dizzy in his arousal. He felt sure
that if Marcie so much as brushed his manhood now, he’d ejaculate immediately, bringing a
premature end to their fun.
He took a deliberate slow breath and raised his eyes to Marcie’s, who was looking up at
him with an intense, unsmiling hunger now, her eyelids lowered, her cheeks still flushed
and her broad jaw set in a serious determination. As they stared deep into each other’s
eyes, still and silent for the moment, he imagined how easy it would be to slip himself
inside her as she lay beneath him. He recognised it as an utterly reckless thought, yet it still
tempted him, and he knew with absolute certainty that Marcie would let him follow it
through if he tried. Perhaps she even wanted him to penetrate her, to feel him naked inside
her for herself, for all that meant that he’d perhaps inseminate her. But he realised that
they were in the grip of Mother Nature’s siren song, and he was resolved to resist her lure.
With another heavy breath, he began moving with a deliberately cautious pace, bringing
himself back down onto his elbows and repeating the soft kiss that he’d laid on her lips.
And now he started shuffling down, kissing her neck, her collarbones, the rising mounds of
her breasts, brushing the silver pendant that lay her sternum, then delicately kissing each
of her nipples. He was so fascinated by their proud arousal that he wanted to linger there,
pausing to brush his nose across the supremely soft and thin-seeming skin all around one
areola. He thought he could see her move beneath him, almost as if the tiny tower of her
fleshy nipple was vibrating, with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, her heartbeat or even
his own breath. But he knew this was another temptation that he needed to move past,
especially as he still felt that he’d let himself get too carried away when Marcie’s breast had
been in his mouth earlier.
So he kept wriggling down, whilst Marcie’s hands rose up the sides of his chest and over his
shoulders, her fingertips brushing his skin in a way that brought him shivering delight,
before they came to rest at the back of his head. He was kissing her belly now, his mouth
wide, making little sucking pops on the soft skin that covered her toned abdomen, making
Marcie giggle above him before he moved lower, over her bellybutton and on down. He’d
been rubbing his own hands across the bumps of her ribs down her sides too, brushing the
edges of her breasts, but now he brought his arms in, one at a time, pulling each towards
his chest against the mattress, then squeezing his hand out under her thighs, reaching for
her hips. Marcie raised her knees as he did this, spreading them wider too, so that Ben’s
head came naturally to the fork between her hips and thighs.
Her vulva lay before him, close enough for him to touch with his lips at last. He inhaled
deeply as he stared myopically at this most intimate part of Marcie’s body, seeing that it
was just a wrinkled crease in her skin below an untidy patch of wild dark hair, secluded in
the damp cleft between her muscular thighs. Yet for him it was also a miniature world of
mystery and wonder, with its shadowy dynamic movements, its unknowable cycles and
moods, and its magical creative potential. The sensations that might arise there for Marcie
could clearly bring her to sublime ecstasy, and he was eager to kindle that extreme
pleasure within her. But he hoped that he knew the consequences of those experiences too,
for both of them, that through his attention and her bliss, they would be brought closer
together, to feel the warm fire of their love more intensely and with deeper mutual trust.
He’d already noticed the profoundly erotic scent of her, the subtle bodily musk lying below
the fragrance of her shower-time soap. He knew that it was helping to keep his own arousal
sky high, yet the wooden tumescence of his maximally erect penis seemed distant, pressed
against the sheet close to the foot of the bed. He’d also noticed that in her accommodating
position, the long cushions of her outer labia with their own sparse fur were already parted
a little to reveal the smooth wrinkles of her inner labia. As he put his lips tenderly to these
and felt their warmth, he realised they were also already moistened with what he assumed
was the lubrication of her arousal.
Burying his nose in the thick fur over her hard pubic bone, he drew in more deep breaths
through his wide nostrils, kissing her lips as if they were the passive sisters of her
previously eager mouth. He’d planned to be careful and systematic in his committed work
toward her stimulation, but now he was becoming lost in the moment. While Marcie
massaged the back of his scalp with her fingertips, he was pushing his loose lips
uninhibitedly against her intimate lips, explored her slippery crease with his tongue, then
widening his jaw and lapping deeper into the mouth of her vagina, letting his impulses lead
his steady licking strokes, seemingly encouraging a rising flow that was seeping from
within her to cover the shaved skin around his mouth and chin.
He was aware of the rise in the subtle wet noises that his mouth and her vulva made as they
worked together too, the little rhythmic slurps, squelches and slaps seeming natural and
liberated yet also intensely personal and private. As he opened his ears to these sounds, he
noticed how heavily he was breathing through his squashed nose, the whistling and
snuffling airflow making its own steady rhythm in and out, filling him with her precious
scent. And above that he realised he could hear Marcie’s own panting breath too, also rapid
and heavy, with a dreamy and distant “ooh” escaping each time she exhaled, while she kept
gripping him with her fingers tangled in his hair.
The growing evidence of her progress toward a potential orgasm prompted Ben to make a
more diligent effort to satisfy her. His hands had been vaguely pawing over her soft skin
around her waist and across her broader hips. Now he brought one arm in, tucking his
elbow beneath him, so he could put his fingers to her in the same spot that his lips had been
at the edge of her vagina. As he did so, he began stroking his tongue firmly between the
creases of her inner labia, finding their apex and feeling the prominent bud of her clitoris
under its hood.
He eased two fingers gently inside her as he began rhythmically lapping at her most
sensitive bump of intimate flesh. The taught muscles of her vagina were slipping around his
fingers, seemingly widening to create a capacious volume that slurped around him as he
quested for her g-spot. Still breathing heavily through his nose and her pubic fur, rich with
her personal musk now, and still rigidly aroused himself, Ben concentrated on both the
gentle stroking pressure through his fingertips inside her and the steady rhythm of his
licking caresses, using the breadth of his tongue against the area around her clitoris. Yet his
gaping mouth enclosed a wider circle of her, covering some of her sopping-wet fur too, and
he deliberately sucked at her, drawing her into him, echoing the way that she’d encouraged
him to eat her breast earlier that evening.
He could hear that Marcie was drifting further into her uplifting rapture as her panting
vocalisations became more expressive, her crooning “ooh” sounds becoming more like
trilling “aah” exclamations, even as she clawed at his scalp with her nails. He thought of
bringing his free hand in to give her just a little more stimulation, so he tucked his other
elbow under his chest to bring two fingers to the slippery crease between her thighs.
Crowding his hands under his chin, he managed to massage her below her vagina along her
perineum, then squeeze his fingertips between her buttocks. Even as his other fingers kept
stroking the inner wall of her vagina and his mouth kept working rhythmically over her
clitoris, he was thrilled to feel the tight bud of her anus, and to notice that it seemed to
respond to his pressure as Marcie flexed and relaxed under his fingertips.
Suddenly Marcie clenched her hands, pulling almost painfully on his hair with her grip. At
the same moment her hips jerked hard against him, crushing his lips and presumably her
own skin between his teeth and her hard pubic bone. Ben concentrated on keeping his
fingers and mouth just where they’d been, still rhythmically working, but now letting their
pressure become a little firmer, the sucking become a little stronger.
He felt his guess that Marcie had reached the cusp of her climax was confirmed when she
exclaimed above him, seemingly in babbling rush of desperation, “Qaddisa Marija, Omm
Alla, itlob għalina midinbin, issa u fis-siegħa tal-mewt tagħna!” As she cried out, Ben had
been aware of spasming quakes pulsing through her muscles, in her softening slippery anus
as well as her cavernous vagina. He recognised that she’d truly achieved her orgasm,
passing that painfully frantic final moment as she reached her explosive release. He was
also unsurprised to notice that everything around his mouth and hands had suddenly got a
lot wetter, as warm fluid had leaked from somewhere around Marcie’s genitals in a
cathartic liberation.
Ben was still tentatively licking and stroking her, more gently now, wondering if she
wanted him to carry on, perhaps to find a second orgasm, just as she had with her vibrator
last night. Yet her hands, gentle once again as they held his crown, were pushing him back,
and she told him breathlessly, “Stop now! Holy Mary, that’s everything. You’ve done it for
me again Ben! It’s wonderful.”
Ben carefully withdrew his hands and looked up at her, seeing her face looking down at
him over her heaving chest and belly. Her mouth was ajar as her heavy breaths slowed, and
he saw her face was shining with sweat, her cheeks flushed to a full red blush that far
exceeded their earlier warmth. From his low perspective, he also saw how matted and wet
the curls of her pubic fur now were, and how her nipples still stood thickly erect on the
raised and puckered areolae of her liquid breasts. He felt a profound tenderness towards
her, seeing her at ease in her surrender to the flowing currents of her body’s innate and
expressive sexuality. Her eyes seemed a little unfocused though as she cradled his head in
her hands and he smiled up at her.
“I’m glad,” he said, “It’s wonderful for me too, to be able to do that for you.” With a weak
attempt to be surreptitious, he rolled sideways over her knee to give his mouth a cursory
wipe on the edge of her towel, then quickly wriggled up the bed. He propped himself up on
one elbow beside her as she let her head fall back onto the pillow, cuddling his naked body
against hers. He tried to explain a little more, “It’s a magical thing, to be so intimate and
close to you.”
Marcie draped one arm carelessly around his shoulder, revealing her glistening armpit to
Ben as yet another part of her body that was drenched by her arousal. “If you say so,”
Marcie conceded as they smiled warmly into each other’s eyes and she casually brought
her other hand to rest on his upright penis. Ben guessed that she’d felt it rather than seen it,
now resting hot and long against her thigh, its exposed dark purple and crimson head
messy with his own leaking lubricating or seminal fluid.
He felt eager to kiss her, but he was aware that the potent scent of her body’s arousal was
still strong in his mouth, so he twisted around to cheekily help himself to a slurp of her
wine. As he’d hoped, the movement rubbed his sensitive erection against the weight of
Marcie’s still hand in a pleasant way. He started turning back, but then, thinking back to
their games on the sofa last night, he twisted around again to take another generous
mouthful, this time bringing it to Marcie’s lips rather than swallowing.
She smiled dreamily as she saw what he was doing, then pursed her lips to his with her
eyes closing as she sucked the wine dribbling from his mouth. Her hand closed around his
penis as she did so, gripping his shaft in a way that made Ben tremble as he let the fluid
escape and she gulped it down. A few drips inevitably escaped, and he licked these up from
around her mouth, making her giggle and squirm a little, shaking his manhood. Then he
remembered her phrase from earlier, murmuring it once again, “Life’s essence.”
“Hmm, yes, from my blessed chalice,” Marcie agreed, licking her lips as she held his stiff
erection firmly, then also seemingly remembering something else from earlier that evening,
“But it’s not your own leaking creamy milk-sperm, is it?”
“No,” Ben admitted, “But that’s close to coming too.”
“Ooh, you’d better get your mackintosh on quickly then!” Marcie said eagerly, suddenly
seeming to wake up a little and find her focus, “I still want you inside me when you let it
go!”
“I’d like that,” Ben said simply, though his heartfelt tone and yearning gaze into Marcie’s
may have given away just how deep his desire ran. She surely knew how much he wanted
just the same thing she did, to make love, to have her, for her to have him, body and soul.
“Let me get a condom and our new gel out of the drawer then,” Marcie said practically,
shuffling underneath him to twist over onto her side, wriggling away from him
momentarily. As she rolled to the edge of the mattress, she glanced back over her shoulder
with a smiling cheekiness on her flushed cheeks, saying, “Though it’s not really as if I need
lubricating,” then explaining once she’d reached over the edge of the bed to search the
drawer, “I could hardly get myself any wetter, thanks to you. But if you don’t mind me
saying how it is, the gel still helps with the rubber by making it more slippery and stopping
it sort-of tugging at me.”
“I don’t mind,” Ben explained, resting his own hand on the thick base of his penis now as he
watched the sinuous motion of Marcie’s back and wide buttocks. Struggling to focus his
thoughts, he clarified, “I want you to say how it is, for you, I mean. I want us to share how
things feel, honestly. And I want to make things comfortable for you. Whatever we do. But
especially this, penetrating you. It sounds painful, saying it like that.”
“Oh, painful isn’t the word,” Marcie reassured him as she rose up from the edge of the bed
and rolled back towards him, clutching the condom’s silvery packet and the tube of gel in
her fist, still grinning broadly. She continued as she tucked herself under the arm that Ben
reached to her, “When we made love last time, you slipped in so easily it was beyond
comfortable. I felt no drag or friction from the rubber. I can’t describe it, but it was as if
there had been something missing from my body, and I hadn’t realised how much that hole
in me was aching to be filled. But then it was, stuffed by something I could hold firm, and
for a blissful moment I felt complete. I’m just so sorry that you got breathless when you
were working so hard on top of me. So I open it this way up?”
Marcie’s gaze had fallen from Ben’s eyes as she’d been speaking as she stoked her
fingertips down his belly and then very delicately brushed his penis, just behind its deep
red glans, while he still held its base, helping it to stand upright. Now she had torn open the
condom packet and was holding it over his head, ready to slip the rolled-up rubber out. Ben
eagerly noted how she seemed confident of trying to put the condom on him for herself
now, as he confirmed she was right, then asked, “But it wasn’t so comfortable in the
kitchen?”
“That first time in the kitchen was like a ride on a rocket!” Marcie said, laughing lightly.
“Holy Mary, how I wanted you inside me then! You were filling me, yes, but it was also like
you were boosting me up, like I had been a plodding drudge, my feet stuck in the mud, and
suddenly I was getting lifted way up above the ground, blasted into the sky by a wild
unexpected force coming up through my pelvis. No, comfortable might not be the right
word, but it certainly wasn’t painful. Surprising, hard, exciting, powerful, sudden,
shuddering, stimulating, exhilarating, all those maybe. But most definitely deliciously fun.
Now, you just lie back, wriggle down a bit and rest your head on the pillows. I’ve got this.”
While she’d been speaking, she’d carefully eased the condom over his head and diligently
rolled it down his shaft. Ben only had to give minimal help, keeping his long and heavy
erection upright with one hand around its shaft initially, and then holding its latex-
wrapped head up as Marcie unrolled the last of the condom, burying her hand into his
pubic hair around the base of his penis. She’d then squeezed out a slug of the gel into her
palm to rub around the tacky rubber in a business-like way, though her swift strokes still
made Ben shudder with pleasure. Ben had still been pinching his manhood around its thick
base as she did this, eagerly holding it upright for her, but then Marcie put her sticky hand
to his shoulder, pushing him down onto his back with her kind but firm command.
Ben was transfixed as he lay back, watching Marcie rise to her knees to straddle his prone
body. He saw the soggy mess of her pubic hair hanging above his tall erection in its glossy
wrap, between her thickly muscular thighs, plastered against the fawn tinted creases of her
lips. As she balanced over him on one hand, her other was already reaching down there to
part herself wider, bringing the edge of her vagina’s pink mouth closer to his turgid head.
He eagerly held himself upright for her, leaving just one hand on his shaft as he raised the
other to touch her near her perineum again, using that point for navigation now more than
her stimulation.
As he felt the thrilling warmth of their contact, Marcie said, “That’s it, you’re almost home,”
then wriggled above him to bring her lips around his head. They gasped simultaneously as
they both felt the moment when he truly entered her, then Marcie batted his hand away
before dropping both hers onto the bed, leaning forwards over Ben so that her breasts
swung forward. As he placed his hands on her knees, he watched their heavy curves
hanging and rocking before him, his pendant dangling between them. Her supremely
feminine breasts suddenly seemed even bigger than he’d thought as they were stretched
long by gravity, tapering almost to cones at the low points of her prominent nipples. The
erotic sight added further arousing stimulation to the sensational feelings of himself
slipping deeper up into the warm grip of Marcie’s silky-smooth vagina.
She was deliberately rocking her hips very carefully back and forth, moving him into her by
small increments. She crooned encouraging yet cryptic words to him as she did so, “I have
you! That’s it, lie still. I’m taking care of you. Ooh yes, come further up, further in. Aah, this
is our real country, we are home at last. You belong here.”
Ben felt beyond speech as he gasped at the intensity of the sensations of her muscular
vagina enclosing his desperately aroused penis in divine comfort. He raised his eyes from
her hypnotically swaying breasts to her face, staring deep into her wide brown eyes
beneath her demure glasses, framed by the dark outline of her tidily swept-back hair. She
was looking down at him with an intensity that mirrored his own, yet the corners of her
eyes were crinkled by her warm smile, even as her mouth hung ajar, her broad jaw pushed
towards him.
He craned his neck upwards to kiss her, but she moved to swiftly push him back, sternly
repeating, “No, keep still! Relax. Just enjoy feeling yourself rising toward your climax, as
slowly or quickly as comes naturally. Aah, yes! Feel me around you, watch me too, if you
like.” With that she pushed herself upright, so that she was now squatting on her knees
directly above him, bearing down all her weight through her pelvis to push him even more
firmly into her, even whilst her hips still gently rocked against him. Ben found he was
excited to see their point of coupling, where his complete erection disappeared up into her
vulva. He imagined its full size inside her, his mind boggling at the space that there must be
within her, as his head was surely reaching up to somewhere behind her bellybutton now.
He looked up at her in wonder as she kept moving, her arms raised behind her head now,
lifting her elbows high and tilting her head back, closing her eyes as she drew sharp breaths
between her teeth.
Ben was once more gasping for air himself in his arousal, his own breath coming easily
even as his chest heaved. With his hands resting passively on Marcie’s hips, he gazed
adoringly up at her. At that moment she seemed supremely confident in her sexual prowess
with him, utterly in charge, buoyed up on reserves of stamina that she must have found
since her own gushing orgasm. As he let himself stare openly at her breasts, once again
resting against her chest as the round orbs with their distorted circles around her nipples,
just as he’d first seen, he unexpectedly recalled his impression of seeing Shona’s breast too.
He realised that he was once again that humble supplicant, in awestruck submission below
the fertile goddess, prostrate on the sacred ground of their shared bed. Yet he was no
longer that frustrated child, but instead at ease and in a state of bliss, confident that he was
a fully potent man, most utterly embedded in his lover’s care.
The moment passed as Marcie groaned then fell forwards onto her hands over him, panting
in a way that imitated Ben’s own deep and heavy breaths. She was rocking more firmly
against him now, making her loose breasts swing low once more, pushing her vulva against
his erection rhythmically, grinding against him with enough force for Ben to feel the
pressure of her pubic bone against his, to feel the friction of their bristly hair rubbing
together. Beneath her heavy breaths, he was aware of the small wet sounds of her slippery
flushed lips against him, exciting him still further.
Yet above the asynchronous beat of those soft slurps and their shared panting groans, she
still found enough breath to whisper her incantations in brief bursts, “I have you. I’m
holding you. We’re complete. You’re firm, I feel your solid oak, I want its rising sap. Ooh yes!
You can let it flow, let your seed come, fill me with that creamy essence, stir my chalice,
quicken my life’s waters! My Vixen has an egg, aah, you know it’s true, ready just for you,
hidden deep, in the moist earth of my womb, ready for the bursting golden warmth of your
sun. Ah, Ben, yes, that’s it!”
After so long at such a high pitch of arousal, the first spasm of Ben’s ejaculation caught him
by surprise, yet it shot through him as if his whole being were gushing up into Marcie. He
inhaled sharply through his nostrils, and again noticed the profoundly intimate and
personal musk of her own arousal, still lingering all around his mouth and perhaps arising
directly from their penetrative point contact. His next forceful spasm came with that
arousing awareness as he gave an inchoate cry of raw ecstasy. Then Marcie fell onto her
elbows above him, ending her pounding rhythm as she curled her body around, brushing
his chest with her breasts, keeping him buried deep inside her. She cradled his head in her
hands, panting heavily hard by his face, yet still finding a moment to place a delicate kiss on
his forehead, even as the jerking pulses of his orgasm kept firing through him, from the root
of his spine and up into her, making his body spasm beneath her.
“Oh Ben,” she whispered earnestly, “You’re safe now! Breathe easy. We’re safe together,
fucking, flowing, loving, in your magical world.”
As he came back to his senses from the unconscious bliss of his climax, he realised he could
follow her instruction, as if it were a kind of magical spell in itself. His panting breath was
easy, even as his heart still hammered in his chest, and he focused on it, drawing the air in a
little more slowly and more deeply each time. He felt divine peaceful waves of calm
equanimity roll over him, even as he also felt his profoundly intimate connection to Marcie,
still embedded deep within her.
“Thank you Marcie,” he said earnestly, feeling the final trickles of his subsiding ejaculation
leaking into the rubber reservoir that they’d made to confound Mother Nature’s
reproductive impulses. Then, before she could tell him that no thanks were needed, he
reached up to place a tender kiss on her mouth as she hung over him, savouring the modest
simplicity of their lips touching.
“I’m sorry,” Marcie confessed, “I’ve got to move. My knees are giving out.” Ben understood,
pinching the critical condom around the base of his softening penis as she rose upright,
letting his manhood withdraw and fall out heavily against his stomach with a final wet
squelch. She smiled apologetically down at him, her cheeks still glowing in the candlelight,
as she lifted her knee over him, twisted around to lie down beside him, grabbing the edge
of the duvet as she did so. Wriggling up to him, she stretched out her legs and pulled them
under its cosy warmth as she cuddled up against him, rubbing the bare skin of her chest,
stomach, hips and thighs against his.
As she brought her face close to his again, she said in a low but heartfelt voice, “That was
wonderful. It seemed to really work well that time.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed with equally heartfelt commitment. Yet even as he said it, he was aware
of a whisper of anxiety that nagged at him. Feeling that he must in honesty voice it, he said,
“But you’ve been too kind to me. I’ve taken so much from you, and I was thoughtless and
rude to you earlier. I almost feel that I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh, Ben, don’t speak like that,” Marcie said urgently, throwing her arm around him to
squeeze him in a strong hug, pressing her soft breasts against his chest, “It’s nonsense, you
must know it. We’ve said we’re both sorry about our little tiff, and it’s behind us. Also,
we’re not trading favours, nor weighing our virtues against each other to find which comes
out ahead. I believe we’re doing everything out of love. That’s why I wanted to take you
into me and ride on top of you, and I think it’s why you wanted to do that wonderful thing
with your mouth for me. Love doesn’t keep a score.”
Ben realised to his surprise that she was becoming genuinely upset as her eyes glistened
with rising tears again. Quickly he tried to backtrack, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the
moment. And I do love you, heart and soul, with all my being.”
Marcie was still hugging him tightly, holding herself urgently against him, as she buried her
face against his neck and almost wailed, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get so emotional. But
even a stray tendril of doubt reminds me how fragile everything is! I want to keep you safe,
when everything else has been torn away from you.”
“I promise you, Marcie, we’re not in a fragile place,” Ben said quietly but firmly. As he
gently stroked the back of her neck and her freckled shoulders, he explained again, “You’re
strong. It’s your strength that’s saved me. Or our shared strength, this love that we’ve
brought into being, the holy angel that’s lifting us up, into the clear air. Our precious inner
fire is giving me hope, when the world’s just thrown a bit of crappy stuff at me. We’re
tapping into the deep forces of life now too, just like you said, in our passion. You might
truly have an egg for me, in your womb, like you said. And when I come, I am trying to
fertilise you, to create a new life, to turn us into a mother and father. That’s not our plan
right now, but it is our most basic instincts at work, seeking ways to help Mother Nature’s
own greater plan, for the continuance of life, weaving a tiny part of Earth’s epic story for
her. To be honest, it seemed I felt her force earlier, just before I went to kiss your Vixen. I
was lying on top of you, if you remember, and we were so close. I could have slipped Roddie
inside you right then, recklessly, deliberately ignoring the need for a condom. It was almost
like one of your old stories, with a goddess, Aphrodite, Eostre, trying to trick us.”
Marcie seemed to have become relaxed again while he’d been speaking as they lay tangled
in each other’s arms. Now she pulled her head back to plant a soft lingering kiss on his lips.
Ben wondered if this would develop into something more passionate again, but then she
pushed herself further back peer at him through her skewed glasses with a strangely
critical expression. “You have great insight, Ben. And I appreciate your honesty. So if I’m
going to be honest with you, I admit that a part of me would have found it wonderful for
you to let your semen flow into me without any protection. I feel that urge too, yet our
sensible rational thoughts must stay in charge, postponing that for a few years at least.
Anyway, I still worry that I talk too much when we’re in our passion, that my mouth runs
away without me, so you mustn’t take what I say too seriously. But Holy Mary, yes, we are
deep in those forces of life now! Mother of God, the amount of mess we’re making, with our
sweat and my tears and your semen, and whatever was going on down there for me, which
seemed way beyond what’s reasonable for lubrication and saliva. Well, we might as well be
protozoa swimming in Earth’s primordial ocean!”
“So, are you saying we need a little wash, before we drift off to sleep in this magical
grotto?” Ben asked with a playful smirk, making Marcie laugh as she emphatically agreed,
saying that she really needed a wee too.
It seemed they were returning to the more mundane practicalities, as Marcie gave Ben a
final peck of a kiss before rolling away. He watched her wriggle off the bed and make for
the door, still nude but taking her wineglass with her. He’d already begun sorting out the
mess that he’d made in the flaccid condom, so once he’d knotted it and used a corner of
Marcie’s towel to rub the slippery semen off his limp penis, he followed her. Dropping the
condom in the bin, once he’d wrapped it in a sheet of kitchen roll, he went through to the
seemingly bright light of the bathroom to drop the towel in the laundry basket too,
carefully moving Marcie’s robe and book aside as he did so.
He’d seen she was already back in her nightdress as she stood at the basin washing her
hands and splashing her face. She stood aside to let him do the same, being a bit more
vigorous with the soapy water around his mouth than she’d been. Then she watched
without comment as he held his penis over the basin rather self-consciously to give it a
somewhat inadequate wash too.
He apologised for his behaviour, but she dismissed it, surprising him by quoting something
that he was sure came from an old Underworld dance track, “It’s okay. It’s like they say,
‘Don’t put your hand where you wouldn’t put your face.’ Or your mouth and toothbrush, I
guess.” And with that, she did indeed move in to begin cleaning her teeth at the basin as he
stepped back to dab his penis dry, before following her example with his own toothbrush.
When they’d finished, Ben feeling that his mouth was a whole lot fresher for the experience,
Marcie suggested they have some clean glasses of water by the bed too. Once he’d used his
brown inhaler, Ben filled and carried the glasses through, finding Marcie still settling down
under the duvet. As he’d got into bed beside her, she leaned over to give him another polite
peck on the lips, saying, “Good night. Sweet dreams, my mighty stallion,” before turning
away to blow out her candle.
Ben did the same to his, then rolled up behind her to make the spoons position again,
reaching around to find her hand and hold it. “I love you, Marcie,” he murmured, “I’m so
glad I’m here with you.”
“Hmm, me too,” she replied ambiguously, mumbling as if she were already drifting into
sleep.
Chapter 36
Ben fell quickly into a deep and easy sleep himself, but sometime in the dark small hours,
he was stirred by a powerful dream. He found himself trapped on a type of weights
machine at the gym, in the seat of something like a chest press with a leg extension bar
across his shins. He urgently wanted to free himself, as a bell was ringing that he knew to
be the fire alarm, but he felt so weak that he was effectively paralysed. He was beginning to
panic, becoming short of breath and desperate to evacuate the now empty building, but
unable to free either his legs or outstretched arms.
He felt great relief to see his mum coming into the room to look for him, yet she seemed
unwilling to approach. Instead she introduced him to a shorter dark-haired young woman
who’d been following her. “Do you remember Gabriella?” she said, “You used to play
together when you were little. She used to be a Spanish pony.”
Ben didn’t think this last statement at all odd, as he said, “I remember.” He felt confident
saying that as he’d just recalled a clear image of a small lithe dun mare, her golden flanks
glossy with sweat from running in the morning sun, her thick dark mane, grown
exceptionally long, flowing in slow-motion with her movement.
“Here, let me help you,” Gabriella said, stepping forwards and reaching towards his waist
to undo a carabiner that was looped around a climbing harness, which he only now realised
was securing him to the machine. As she came close, bringing her small hands close to his
groin to unscrew the gate, Ben was aware that he was only wearing his boxer shorts. His
erect penis was obscenely poking through their meagre covering, its unnaturally dark
purple head exposed and clearly visible to both of them.
“I’m sorry, Gabriella,” he said, apologising for getting himself stuck as much as for exposing
himself to her, something that he realised she was utterly unconcerned by.
“Oh Ben, call me Marie,” she replied, standing up straight before him again now that she’d
freed the carabiner. As she said this, smiling down at him with an open loving warmth, Ben
realised that she already knew him very well. Though he’d forgotten that he’d previously
known her, at that moment he felt sure that they would become very close again, utterly at
ease in each other’s company, with deep trust, mutual honesty and the non-judgemental
kindness of unconditionally loving friends.
He’d thought nothing of the apparent change to her name from the angelic Gabriella, but he
remarked on her use of Marie, “Like the saint.”
“No, I’m not her,” she said crossly, then instructed him firmly, “Now come on, you need to
fly out of here. Just follow me.”
Ben watched her turn in the air as if it were water, noticing only now that she was naked.
She used powerful strokes in the confident coordination of her legs and arms to twist
toward the wide exit, casting an encouraging glance back towards him over her shoulder.
“But I need to bring my oxygen,” he said plaintively, even as he sought just a glimpse of her
nude body, frustrated that her long dark hair obscured so much as it trailed behind her in
waves. Then he felt a surge of sexual excitement as she swung and flexed her broad hips
towards him, letting him see her pale round buttocks. As she bent over, he noticed the dark
crease of her bottom disappearing suggestively into the shadows between her thighs, and
he felt honoured that she might have been at ease with showing her vulva to him.
Yet as he tried to reach for the oxygen cylinder that he knew was beside him, he found
himself still stuck to his bench seat, with his arms pinned back, his legs unable to move.
Whilst she swam through the air away from him with a strong breaststroke, her body
flexing like a dolphin under her cloud of seaweed-like hair, he felt panic rising again as he
remembered the unseen fire behind him.
“Don’t look back!” she called out urgently without turning or slowing. Ben realised her
cautionary warning was serious, becoming deeply fearful of the all-consuming threat that
was creeping up on him as he strained to move his arms. Then, by jerking them in reality,
he brought himself awake suddenly.
He stared wide-eyed into the darkness of Marcie’s bedroom, panting and realising with
relief where he was. He deliberately took a deep slow breath, feeling his hammering heart
begin to slow as well, yet he was aware he had a strong erection in the real world too. He
turned towards the shadow of Marcie’s sleeping form, listening to the small noises of her
breathing, also long and slow. He was glad he’d not woken her, yet he still felt reassured by
her close presence. Though his memory of the dream was already fading, he knew that the
horse woman was undoubtedly just a slightly distorted version of her. He also knew that
his panic had been more to do with his fear of losing her and not seeing her again, rather
than the pragmatic fear of being unable to reach his breathing aid or escape the fire.
He risked cuddling up a little closer to her, bringing his face toward her tightly braided hair
as he rested his head on her pillow. He felt the warmth of her skin as her nightshirt brushed
his bare chest, and he was aware that his erection was burying itself between her hip and
the mattress. He felt a little guilty as her unwitting stimulation brought him some stealthy
sexual satisfaction. As he rolled his own hips to get more comfortable, a shivering spasm
made him tense hard against the soft cushions of her buttocks. But he knew he would do
nothing more about his arousal as he willed his body to relax, continuing to inhale his own
long slow breaths. With it, he caught the melange of scents from Marcie’s sleeping body,
the feminine perfumes of her shampoo and soap, as well as the lived-in laundry of the tired
bedsheets and her nightdress, but also the simple fragrance of her warm skin, perhaps with
just lingering hints of her sweaty exertions and her intimate arousal. Ben found profound
comfort and reassurance in his combined senses of her physical presence and her
unpretentious bodily scents, and he quickly drifted back into unconsciousness.
Chapter 37
After a deeply restful sleep for the remainder of the night, Ben was gently woken a while
after dawn by the sounds of Marcie moving around the bedroom. When he opened his eyes
to see her still in her nightdress, placing a mug of tea beside the bed, he murmured sincere
thanks.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Marcie said apologetically, “But if you are awake now, did you
want to share a cup of tea in bed? It’s nice not having to rush off anywhere.” As Ben agreed,
stretching luxuriantly against the crumpled sheets, Marcie moved back around the bed to
drop off her own mug and open just one corner of the curtains, letting some daylight in
through the gauze drapes without revealing their bed to passers-by. She then slipped back
under the duvet, wriggling towards Ben to lie close to him, face to face on their sides. As she
did so, she grasped his shoulder, then ran her hand across his naked chest and down his
belly to find his penis, grasping it when she found it already erect.
“It’s often that way, first thing,” Ben said, feeling a little ashamed, yet also grateful for
Marcie’s touch, as he tried to explain, “But it’s lovely to feel your hand on it. Can you feel
it’s getting harder already? I’m just sorry I’m not very clean.”
“Hey, don’t apologise,” Marcie responded in a kind, low voice, “I know what state we got
each other into last night. I’m a bit manky down below myself, and a little tender, in a nice
way. But do you want me to carry on? That’s the only important thing you need to trouble
yourself with right now.”
“I do,” Ben admitted, pushing the duvet back so that he could see Marcie’s delicate hand
around the thick base of his fleshy manhood, already fully rigid, its curved shaft with its
bulging veins tapering towards its exposed and somewhat pungent head. He felt he was
being selfish though, so he asked, “But what can I do for you?”
Marcie reassured him, “There’s nothing. Just relax and enjoy the moment. There’s no rush,
and you can let yourself come only when you want to, if you want to at all. Like I said, I feel
a tiny bit sore myself. No, please don’t worry, it’s all fine, just a bit of tingling warm
sensitivity from all our action. It’s quite nice really, like aching muscles after a hard
workout, but it does mean I don’t want more activity down there right now.”
She’d been slowly rubbing her loose hand up and down Ben’s shaft as she’d explained
herself, firmly shutting down his attempted interruption to apologise and offer attentive
sympathy. However, Ben also felt some of that sensitivity himself, and wasn’t sure if could
enjoy even Marcie’s delicate touch on his head if she worked her way up any higher. So he
said, “I think I know what you mean. I feel tender too. I really do want you to carry on, but
maybe with some gel, or some saliva, to keep it really slippery, if that’s okay?”
“Of course!” Marcie assured him, adding, “And if it’s okay with you, let’s work out if I can’t
make it more comfortable for both of us while I’m playing.” Ben found himself eagerly
following her suggestions and instructions, fully awake now, as energised and enthusiastic
as he was aroused.
So once Marcie had found the gel and they’d both had big gulps of their tea, they ended up
with Marcie sitting upright, still in her nightdress, her back leaning against the pillows on
the headboard, her knees up and her feet planted wide apart. Meanwhile Ben was lying
nude below her, his head on the rolled-up duvet toward the foot of the bed, his own legs
tucked under her bare thighs, with his lewd erection in both their hands between them,
held upright in a muddle of slippery fingers just in front of the hem of her nightdress, now
gathered in her lap. In this position, Ben could only see a dark shadow that teasingly hinted
at her pubic hair, but his eyes were raised higher, gazing into her kind face behind her
studious glasses as she looked down at him with a mixture of warm affection and smug
self-satisfaction, perhaps arising from her confidence that he was utterly in her power.
She’d started her creative wordplay again, saying dreamily as she stroked him, “Little
Roddie O, my stiff Jolly Roger, that pirate rascal with his shiny helmet. My creamy
mushroom, that surprise visitor in the lawn’s morning dew, a ripe stinkhorn, the spring
bulb thrusting from the mossy earth, the nodding purple crocus bud, the tender growing
sapling, promising summer fruit.”
Ben found a moment to interrupt, resting one hand on her knee, voicing his thoughts over
his heavy breaths, “I wonder if Roddie’s still the right name, after all we’ve said. Maybe it is
that spring growth, for my queen of the winter night, ready to make summer fertile, as you
say. Hmm, that’s good! Maybe it’s the head of the returning lion god, or Eostre’s rabbit, or
the sun-loving snake, is-serp, as you said, the ambiguous messenger, basking in the Garden
of Eden.”
“No,” Marcie replied firmly, as she idly stroked his shaft and head with delicate fingertips,
even while he held its base with a hand around his scrotum. She explained, “Roddie will
always be our shared joking name now. But we can be serious too, and the truth is that
your penis is a real force of nature. There’s no need to hide behind metaphors or
mythologies. You have a natural impulse to inseminate me, to propagate your genes by
making me pregnant with your sperm, and we’re both very aware of that, even if we’re
putting off any actual fertilisation. Still, we have made that connection between your own
virility and the whole Earth’s reproductive forces now, along with the open sky of free and
creative possibilities that we’ve both felt, and the flowing waters of life’s fecund essence.”
Then, after a thoughtful pause, she asked carelessly, “But have you actually ever used
Roddie outside, in nature, under that open sky?”
Ben realised that she might be probing into his past sexual adventures again, but he didn’t
mind that, knowing now about her apparently insatiable curiosity, feeling secure in their
mutual love and honesty. Still, struggling a little to focus as he continued to enjoy Marcie’s
intimate tender care, he playfully sought confirmation by asking, “Use him how? Were you
thinking for peeing, or making love, or maybe just masturbating?”
Marcie paused her strokes as she said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just being too nosy again, aren’t I?
I meant making love, having sex, fucking in the open air of wild nature.” She fell silent and
her fingertips began brushing his shaft again very gently, then added quietly, “I’m
embarrassed to say it, but I also thought maybe I could be the first to do something with
you that you’d not done with anyone else.”
Ben felt embarrassed himself at her reminder of his excessive past sexual history, but he
wanted to reassure her. “It’s all like the first time, with you,” he tried explaining, “My first
ejaculation in your hands, your first orgasm in mine, then by my kiss. Our first time for real
in the kitchen, then in bed, taking turns to go on top. The first time in your mouth too. Each
was new, more intense and colourful, so much more satisfying. It’s like I said, it feels
different with you, like it’s serious, not just playing now. You’re my true love, and each first
time is precious.”
He was getting more than a little distracted by his rising arousal at her hands around his
erection, but he’d thought of something else to share with her. He began confessing,
“Actually, my first time was kind of outside, to be honest. The first woman who let me have
sex with her, we did it in a barn, like a roll in the hay, for real.”
“Hmm, that sounds exciting. Do you want to tell me more? Who was she? Were you both
very young?” Marcie asked with a twinkling smile, still just very slowly stroking him with
gentle fingertips, up his shaft to his frenulum, whilst her other hand softly held his shaft.
“Erm, I was young, too young really, just fourteen,” Ben admitted, breathing deeply to keep
as calm as possible as he rested his hands on her bare ankles, “Fuck, Marcie, that feels
good!” he exclaimed in grateful appreciation for all she was doing, as he twitched
involuntarily in her hands, before gathering his thoughts to explain more, “Ash was older
though, genuinely a grown woman, eighteen I guess. You see, the truth is, she was my
brother’s girlfriend, Ashleigh Wright. I’ve never told anyone this before, it was a serious
secret. It still is. If a girlfriend asked later, I just vaguely said it had been with a friend of the
family, the daughter of some friends of my parents, who came to visit and I didn’t see
afterwards, which was true, kind of.”
Marcie was looking at him with a warm and curious smile even as she kept stroking him,
but she asked him simply to go on when he paused, so he told her the story, “It happened
when my brother was away at sea, but on this day, it was his birthday. We had a family
party, celebrating for him, in his absence. Then I went out to the barn with Ash after lunch,
to get away from the old folks, and to see some farmyard kittens. Hmm, that feels so good,
you’re so good! But what happened, once we were on our own, she encouraged me, to be
naughty with her, you know? It was like that cliche, the game we kind of played too, ‘I’ll
show you mine, if you show me yours.’ I don’t know if she thought it would work, like she
didn’t think I was fully grown, or able to have sex. She said I could just try it out, try putting
my penis in her vagina I mean. She even had a condom. But it did work, of course, and it
went all the way, but it was quick, I guess. Not like now, this is delicious, how long it’s rising.
But Ash, she got me to swear never to tell anyone. She said that she would say I’d forced
her, like I’d raped her, if word got out. I was quite anxious afterwards, but I was still glad
we’d done it.”
“It sounds like quite a story,” Marcie remarked, still looking down at him with kind
sympathy, still holding him upright and gently circling his head, having brought her
fingertips to her mouth to moisten them with a little of her saliva while he’d been talking.
She added, “You should write it down and see how many details you can remember, or use
your intuition to fill in the gaps.”
“I’m not really a writer. I struggled in English you know, at GCSE,” Ben admitted, surprised
now how long he was enduring Marcie’s tender attention. He felt he ought to have come by
now, but he also thought that perhaps his whole system was a little tired and empty after
so many orgasms with Marcie already over the last few days, even as his turgid manhood
strained upwards in her hands.
“I can help you,” Marcie promised, adding, “Writing about sex is more interesting than
what they have you do for English GCSE.”
“I remember, when we talked about your own fantasy first time, you hinted, maybe you’d
written the story down. Ooh, it’s still building, this is so nice. But sure, writing about my
first time, then sharing it with you, that would definitely be its own first, like nothing I’ve
done with anyone else,” Ben said, finding himself warming to the idea, even as their
speculative chatter glided above the direct physical excitement of her slowly and steadily
masturbating him.
“Hmm, I could help jog your memory,” Marcie said with a wicked smile, suddenly and
unexpectedly dropping him, then reaching her hands over her head to pull her nightdress
up. Ben’s erection had fallen heavily back against his stomach, only to bounce back up a
little in its stiffness, but he was keen to keep it upright, so he held himself at the base of his
shaft with his hand around his testicles again. Meanwhile he watched eagerly as she
wriggled around and pulled the white cotton up over her belly and then her chest, quickly
untangling her head and arms before casting it aside. His eyes were of course drawn to her
jiggling breasts, their heavy curves swaying with her movement, her dark pink areolae
drawing his attention to her nipples and the stretched pale skin beneath them, just as
they’d done before.
She squeezed some more gel on her hands, then grasped his erection again, more firmly
this time, gripping his shaft just above his hand while she rolled the palm of her other over
his head, making him shiver with visceral pleasure. As she did this, she began seductively
asking a series of questions about Ashleigh that Ben answered tersely, often simply with a
yes or no, “So did this Ashleigh show you her boobs too? Were they as big as mine? Were
her nipples smaller as well? Did you fondle them? Did you suck them? What colour was her
hair? What about her pubes? So she didn’t shave either? Did you stroke her? Stroke her
pussy I mean. Did you tickle her clitoris? Did you put a finger up inside her cunt? What
about her arsehole? Did you kiss her cunt? Did Ash put your Roddie in her mouth? Did she
grip you like this? Wrap her fingers around you here? Touch you here? Did she gob on her
hands to rub you too? Roll your head in her palm like this? Did she let you put the condom
on for yourself? Was Roddie this big when she helped? Did she go on top when you put him
inside her? Was she on her knees across you? Did she lean back or come down low over
you? Were you both moving? Were you going fast? Did her breasts bounce about? Did she
feel it when you came inside her? I felt you coming inside me last night too. She sounds like
a naughty minx, taking her fun from you and your brother both, using your young body for
her fuck toy, then tricking you, almost blackmailing you, to keep your shared secret safe.
Yet she had you, she felt you inside her, and she was a lucky young woman, but not as lucky
as me. She’s had her chance, popping your cork. Oh! That’s it. But I’ve got you now! You’re
coming just for me now. Yes, that’s right, let it pump and flow, your creamy seed, for our
love, for our shared future. That’s good, it smells deliciously fresh and salty. It’s all alright. I
have you safe, you’re safe in my hands.”
Ben had felt himself almost reaching the point of no return as soon as Marcie had
undressed and grasped him again. His gaze had been inevitably drawn to the round
mounds of her breasts hanging low against her chest, seeing again the texture of the
generous dusky ovals around her nipples and the subtle lines of veins under her thin skin,
all just out of reach. Then lower down, he could see just a tuft of her dark pubic bush under
her smooth stomach and bellybutton, but her vulva, which he knew must be parted and
close to his own genitals, was hidden. Yet when he managed to raise his eyes to her face,
seeing her tan and mole-dappled cheeks creased by the serene smile on her wide lips, with
the stray curled hairs around her forehead escaping her braided ponytail, he saw that her
own gaze was fixed on his fully grown erection, thick and upright in her hands, its exposed
glossy head a deep reddish-purple now. He realised then that she was just as intently
focused on his own intimate parts as he had been on hers, even while she’d been firing off
her questions.
He’d been doing his best to remain calm and still, breathing deeply as those rapid questions
came and he answered, guessing at details when he couldn’t remember. Then perhaps
she’d noticed when he really had tipped over the edge, for it was just as her questions
stopped. He’d been gulping great breaths beneath her in those last moments, his hands
clasped to her thighs whilst she’d been rubbing his penis firmly and rhythmically with both
hands. She kept closing each greasy hand around his slippery head then smoothly pulling
down his shaft to its thick base, over and over again, one starting before the other had
finished. She’d exclaimed when the first spurt of his ejaculation had pulsed out, but she’d
kept moving consistently as he’d jerked involuntarily in her hands, acutely sensitive to her
firm touch as she mixed his semen into the gel and saliva on her hands with her massaging
strokes down his shaft.
He’d groaned and involuntarily panted out Marcie’s name as his orgasm had hit, coursing
through his body as his penis seemed to find a new rigid extreme in her hands. But
inevitably the moment had passed swiftly, and he found himself achingly dizzy with a kind
of slumping relief as the twitching spasms receded. He placed his hands gently over
Marcie’s, bringing them to a stop as they came to rest together over his hot and tender
penis, softening already as it lay under their hands’ combined weight against his stomach.
He was aware that his modest emission of semen, along with the other sticky fluids, had
mostly pooled at its base, making a gooey mess in his pubic hair, but now he felt a trickle of
cooling liquid escape between his thighs to leak onto the bed. He sighed in resigned
contentment, knowing that the work of changing and washing the sheets again was a small
price for the rapture of his honest intimacy with Marcie.
“Thank you,” Ben said aloud, even though he knew Marcie would dismiss the remark. He
went on before she could interrupt, “And it is all for you now, truly. It’s strange, you were
trying to make me think of my first lover, or whatever Ash was to me. But all the time I was
with you, not just literally, here with our bodies, but in my head, my heart and my soul too.
I guess we were just playing a game, that maybe you weren’t trying to test me, but you
couldn’t distract me from what we were doing, here and now, making love, even if it was
just in your hands. I love you Marcie. You fill my world. I can’t imagine anyone else now,
except as weak and vague shadows.”
“That’s nice,” she said jokingly, “But all this messy play has made me want a quick orgasm
too. I think it will come most efficiently if I just lie back, use a toy, and daydream about
Daniel Craig.”
Ben laughed aloud, sure that she was merely teasing him as she released his hands. Then
Marcie moved dynamically to shift her legs around so that she could lean far over the edge
of the bed to recover her nightdress, which she threw towards him as she turned back. Ben
cautiously took his cue, rubbing away the messy quagmire around his genitals, even as she
got onto her knees to straddle him, smirking. Ben barely had a moment to look up at her
with a muddle of affection and uncertainty before she fell forwards, planting her hands
firmly on the mattress beside his head and lowering herself over him to give him a slippery
kiss.
He was delighted to feel her breasts brush his chest as he affectionately played his tongue
over hers, yet the arousal of his tingling penis had deserted him as it shrunk further into
her crumpled nightdress, now damp with his spent semen. He was aware that the air in the
room must be getting high with the smells of his manhood, still dirty from last night and
now spreading the distinctive smell of fresh ejaculate too, as well as the drying saliva and
intimate gel on both his penis and Marcie’s hands. Then there must be the unclean smells
of the hard-used bedsheets and their own bodies, the sweaty energy of last night warmed
again by Ben’s damp armpits at least. Yet neither of them seemed to mind as they cuddled
naked together, Marcie squirming over Ben as she rocked back and forth on her knees.
Marcie was eager to get on with her plan though, as became clear when she organised
things for herself and prompted him to move around until they’d found a new arrangement.
She’d tossed the dirty nightdress aside and recovered a small vibrator that Ben hadn’t
really noticed before, briefly testing that it was operational. She also checked that her gel
was handy, then they both seized a moment to drain their tepid mugs of tea. Finally they
ended up in almost the reversed positions to those they’d been in earlier. Ben was sitting
back against the bed’s headboard with his knees up, cushioned by the pillows, but now
Marcie was leaning against him, his sticky soft penis pressing somewhere into her lower
back, her legs spread wide with her heels together, her own knees fixed firmly under Ben’s.
He felt delighted by her uninhibited posture, her relaxed open legs seemingly symbolising
her easy and open sexual expression with him. Yet he felt a little disappointed that he could
see so little of her in their position, spying just a suggestion of the crease of her vulva under
her mound of pubic hair, down between the gap between the low wide curves of her
breasts, as he saw them from his top-down view over her shoulder. He imagined the view
they’d both have of Marcie’s shady pink lips and vagina if she’d had a mirror on the wall at
the foot of the bed, but he thought it unlikely they’d follow up that passing thought by
arranging to hang one there sometime.
Still, Ben felt content as he nuzzled against her head with his arms around her, feeling her
loose hairs tickling his neck and cheeks when he brushed his nose to her ear, and feeling
the smoothness of her soft belly under his big rough hands. He was enjoying the warm and
solid contact of her back pressing hard against his chest and belly, and her bare hips
squashed firmly against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, yet he was resigned to the
fact that his exhausted manhood was still soft.
Marcie’s own hands were both already at her vulva, one holding the buzzing toy as if it
were a paintbrush to bring the rounded tip of its short shaft against her clitoris, the other
parting and stroking her inner labia, presumably to make the contact more satisfying. He
realised that as Marcie did this, she was following a well-rehearsed technique that he did
not want to interfere with. Instead, moving carefully to avoid jolting her arms, he slid his
hands gently across the silky skin of her belly, caressing her as he raised them steadily
upwards to brush her breasts. She gave no sign of noticing this, seemingly entirely focused
on her vibrator’s contact with the tiny bud of her clitoris as she steadily gave long heavy
breaths, yet he guessed he was in some small way adding to the sensations that she was
experiencing.
As he delicately brushed her large proud nipples and the crumpled skin around them with
his fingertips, he found himself unexpectedly recalling the distant Ashleigh and that first
sexual encounter. Though he’d not thought of her in years, the memories were coming back
more clearly now thanks to Marcie’s prompts. He remembered his feelings of awe and
gratitude as she’d first revealed herself to him, and then let him touch her breasts, even
before they’d got onto the more serious business with their genitals. Yet he must have been
an awful disappointment to her, a skinny gangling teenager still not completely out of
puberty, utterly clueless about how to touch a woman sensitively. He still felt embarrassed
now to remember how, when she’d said he could touch her nipples, he’d pressed them as if
they were buttons. As he gently brushed his fingers back and forth over Marcie’s hardened
nipples now, then around and under them too, stroking her puckered areolae and the thin
skin beneath them with his fingertips, he wondered if in some ways he wasn’t still just as
clueless. He had no real idea what she sensed of his affectionate attention, or if she even felt
anything significant at all from it.
Marcie was fidgeting about a bit in his arms now, pressing her bare back against his chest
as her heavy breathing became a little ragged and the hot close contact of their skin became
a little sweaty. He craned his neck forward to kiss her ear, murmuring softly, “You’re the
best, Marcie. Of all possibilities, I’m so glad I’ve ended up with you. I couldn’t be happier,
with anyone else. No one could ever come close. No one can touch us now. Our love is solid.
It really is the true love, that will go on and on. Sex with you is the best, truly. I feel it every
time I come. You become the goddess of love, the pure spirit of woman, focusing the
essence of sexual ecstasy, but real, warm in my arms, in my hands, touching me, giving me
new life, for our shared future, together.”
As these words came to him and he quietly shared them, he knew they were true. He would
rather be with Marcie than any of his previous girlfriends, or his more casual sexual
partners, from Ashleigh forwards. He could so easily imagine their shared future stretching
ahead through anything that life threw at them now, helping each other as they kept falling
back on their common positive outlooks and playful imaginations, the sparkling jewels in
the sanctuary they were building for themselves, treasures that would help carry them far
over the horizon into the unknown. Similarly he could also imagine their sexual adventures
only widening and deepening as they shared their mutual erotic curiosity and bold
enthusiasm for intimacy. He’d not felt anything like this expressive alignment of intimate
dreams and physicality with anyone else who he’d been in a romantic relationship with.
Marcie had kept panting heavily while he’d been speaking, as he’d felt by the rise and fall of
her chest under his hands as well as the noises of her breath, sharply exhaled through her
gritted teeth. Now she’d started to vocalise a distant keening note with each exhalation too.
Guessing that she might be closing in on her orgasm, with his lips close to her ear, he tried
murmuring something like the reassuring phrases that she’d used with him, “That’s it. Let
it flow. You’re safe in my arms. It’s all okay. Relax, and release it.”
As he whispered, he also risked more direct stimulation, tentatively pinching her firmly
erect nipples with plucking motions which he tried to not make too hard. He guessed he’d
timed these about right as after a few moments, Marcie grunted loudly, “Fuck, Qaddisa
Marija, ugh!” At that familiar exclamation, ending in a pleading groan, he risked raising his
hand to brush her mouth, and as he’d half expected, she impulsively snapped her jaws to
bite down firmly on his first knuckle. He heard her make a desperate high keening noise,
muffled by his hand, which brought a surprising pulse of arousal to his squashed penis
buried somewhere between them, then she released him and unceremoniously withdrew
her hands from her vulva.
Panting with longer slowing breaths now, she clasped his hand at her mouth with one of
hers as her other fiddled with her toy, stopping its buzzing vibrations and casting it aside.
“Oh Ben, that was a bonus!” she murmured, kissing his fingertips tenderly now. “Holy Mary,
I’m a naughty girl with you. I didn’t think I’d be ready for another one so soon, but you
made me want to come, and then I did! It was like blue light, coursing through me. Ooh, it
feels good. And thank you. You’re the best too. I’m such a lucky woman.”
“Hey, I didn’t do anything,” Ben admitted as she twisted around in his arms to cuddle up to
him.
“Oh, you did,” Marcie contradicted him, “We did all that together, truly making love to each
other, like you said, and making a right mess of ourselves again. Now, we really need to get
cleaned up and get this show on the road if we’re going to get down to Lincolnshire in time
for lunch!”
Chapter 38
Suddenly Marcie seemed energised by her newfound assertive attitude, impressing Ben
with her rapid switch to the immediate practicalities. After a soft yet quick kiss, each with
their hands lingering at the other’s jawline, she wriggled out of his arms and slid to the end
of the bed. Ben watched her naked back and buttocks with a tender warmth as she moved,
then shimmied away out of the bedroom, blowing him a cheekily flirtatious kiss over her
shoulder from the doorway.
Once left alone, Ben exhaled in satisfaction, even as he was aware of a somewhat tender
throbbing from his tired and sticky penis. But he paused only briefly before finding the
motivation to follow Marcie’s example, pushing himself from the bed and surveying the
mess they’d made. He decided to make a start on tidying up, even though he was
ravenously hungry and ready for a wee and shower himself. Working quickly, still nude and
hoping no one could see him through the drapes of the opened corner of the curtain, he
moved around the bed to strip it, then bundled up the dirty sheets with Marcie’s soiled
nightshirt, before making it up again with the recently washed fresh sheets. Of course he
saw her collection of toys again as he pulled the linen from the drawer, but did not linger
over them this time, leaving the one she’d just used on the bedside table for her to clean up
for herself, worried that he might damage it if he tried washing it himself.
He took the dirty white bundle straight through to the washing machine, passing by the
windows a little anxiously in case their neighbours were up and in the backyard, as Marcie
had already pulled the blinds open, but the coast was clear. As he was squatting before the
machine wondering if there would be time to run its cycle before they left, he heard Marcie
stop the shower. Going through, he caught her as she stepped from the bathtub, reaching
for her towel, her wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders, the curves of her hips and
her swaying breasts glistening with beaded droplets of water.
“Hmm, that felt good,” she said in a luxuriant way as she saw him. As she recovered her
glasses to look at him properly with a happy smile, she explained, “I feel clean and fresh
again, but it was a delicious pleasure feeling the hot water beating against my skin in my
cosy post-orgasmic bubble! I’m still all tingly and sensitive, thanks to games you let me
play with you.”
“Well, I had fun too,” Ben replied, feeling self-conscious of his lame response more than his
presumption to sit on the toilet and pass water whilst Marcie rubbed her dripping hair and
towelled herself down.
“I think it’s different for boys,” Marcie mused, “I’ve heard you feel an intense build-up and
a kind of mad urgency, like you’ve really got to let it out, whatever the consequences, but
then once it’s gone your minds move on immediately, to planning your day or thinking
about what’s for tea maybe. For girls it maybe has a bigger impact that lasts longer, but
maybe also we know it’s a more elusive thing to chase down too, so we don’t feel it’s such
an imperative must-have to make our climax.”
“Aye, that sounds fair, maybe,” Ben cautiously agreed, thinking of the rare times that other
girlfriends had been so open about how sex was for them, as well as the experience of his
own climaxes.
“But you still need to give it a good hose down afterwards, I’m thinking. Are you getting in
this shower or what?” she teased.
Ben laughed lightly at her return to practicalities as they swapped places. Then, as Marcie
made to leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels around her torso and hair as usual, he
remembered the bedsheets. He told her that he’d already put them in the machine, but not
started it, as he wasn’t sure how long they’d be. Marcie seemed genuinely grateful, then
said they’d probably have time to get it on and out, but she’d check what the weather was
going to do while they were on their day out on the road. She thought to get last night’s
dirty towel out of the laundry basket too, then she left him on his own as he did indeed
make a thorough job of washing himself clean, paying special attention to his sensitive
glans beneath his foreskin. He noticed the water pressure lurch as the washing machine
came on, but he was glad that the shower’s temperature didn’t swing wildly with it.
Once he’d finished, he dried himself down and applied his deodorant, then wrapped
himself in a towel around his waist, before going to get clean clothes from the spare room.
As he came out of the bathroom he saw that Marcie was already preparing their breakfast,
moving busily around the kitchen, still with her hair in a towel-turban, but already dressed
in what were unfamiliar clothes to Ben. He saw that her embroidered raw cotton blouse
was baggier and somehow more rustic than those she wore for her work, but it seemed to
complement her layered skirt, which Ben guessed might be called ethnic, with its
predominately moss green patterns.
He tried to find a suitably genuine compliment for her tasteful and pretty outfit as he
passed her, brushing his hand over her waist. She responded with a twinkling smile and a
peck on his lips, saying that she was glad he liked it, and also thanked him again for tidying
the bedroom. She said that it looked lovely, but that she’d opened the window for some
fresh air too, then she confirmed that he wanted a coffee with his toast. Ben couldn’t help
noticing that she’d found her toy and presumably washed it in the kitchen sink, as it was
standing incongruously on the draining board alongside the carabiner that he’d saved from
the ruins of his old flat.
The sight of that spontaneously triggered a vivid flash of recollection though, as wider
memories of his intense dream swiftly came back to him, gathered around the image. He
mentioned it to Marcie as he followed her into the living room, and she said that he must
tell her more once they’d sat down for their breakfast. She admitted with a teasing shyness
that she’d also hoped to probe him for more details about Ashleigh.
As Ben found fresh clothes and got dressed, he realised that even though he’d never told
another soul about what had happened with that first guilty intimate liaison of his, he felt
very much at ease at the thought of telling the whole story with Marcie now. Of course he
knew with absolute certainty that he could trust her with his secret, but his instincts also
told him that it was unimaginable that Marcie would become judgmental or jealous. Instead
he anticipated that sharing his memories and feelings of what had happened would only
bring him and Marcie closer. He imagined that she would perhaps by parts be both
sympathetic and happy for his teenage self. Yet he also felt that in some way it would be a
gift that he could offer to her, as something that might satisfy her apparent appetite for
sexually charged fantasies and stories.
So once he’d returned to the living room table in a clean shirt and jeans, and thanked
Marcie again for getting their breakfast ready, he asked bluntly if she wanted to hear about
the dream or Ashleigh’s story first. She suggested the dream, and Ben described as well as
he could remember how he’d been trapped in a piece of gym equipment and fearful of an
unseen fire. Marcie was sympathetic and remarked it was no surprise that his mind was
replaying such distressing recent experiences, perhaps as he struggled to make sense of
them at some deep level, but that he must say if they were still strong and frightening in a
few weeks’ times.
But Ben was more interested in describing the stranger and more intimate details that he
could recall. He told her that she’d been in his dream, but that she’d had thicker and longer
hair, like a horse’s mane. Marcie seemed a little put out by that, saying that she was sorry if
he’d like her with even more hair, but hers was at the limit of manageability already. He
rushed to reassure her that he didn’t think that had been his fantasy at all, just that it
implied their discussion of a connection to animal spirits had really stuck. Then he
admitted that in his dream her hair had been covering her naked body, but also that his
mum had been in the dream too, reminding him that he’d know Marcie as a girl.
Marcie laughed aloud, seemingly in shocked surprise at this, then covered her mouth and
apologised, “Oh, I’m sorry Ben, but wouldn’t a psychoanalyst just love to have a client come
out with something like that? And I’m very grateful that you shared it with me. It shows
huge honesty and trust, and I was very mean to laugh.”
“No,” Ben reassured her, “It is funny, isn’t it? I guess I do feel a bit sad that my mum’s gone,
especially now, because it means she didn’t get to know you. But it is like some bad
seventies’ arts film, isn’t it? The trapped and bound man sees a vision of his true love,
blessed by his own mother, who’s acting as their matchmaker, but he must trade one for
the other, never seeing his mother again, but now free to explore a new, and sexually
adventurous life, with this wild spirited nymph.”
Marcie was smiling broadly again, but Ben thought there may have been just the hint of
tears welling in her eyes. He was surprised to feel his eyes stinging as well at the strength
of emotion that this daft dream had inspired. Yet Marcie made her sympathy and warm
kindness clear as she reached to clutch his hand, asking seriously, “So I did help you to
escape your trap in the dream?”
“Well, kind of. That’s the thing, the most powerful part, in a way. You undid a carabiner
that was tying me down, looped into a harness around my waist, you know, so it was near
Roddie, and I think I found that a bit erotic. But then it was like you were swimming away,
and I couldn’t follow. That was the worst, that having just found you, I thought I’d lose you
again.”
“Oh Ben, come here,” Marcie beckoned, and once again Ben was on his knees before her
chair, holding onto her in a reassuring embrace. She kissed his forehead then crooned in his
ear, “I’m not going anywhere without you. Maybe it will take a while for that to sink in for
both of us, so that we can overcome our anxieties that the bubble might burst. But given
everything that we’ve been talking about, all that we’ve shared and all that we’ve said
we’re feeling for each other, I really believe this is it, that we both know we’ve found our
other half. And like those animals - swans, wolves, beavers, even seahorses - we know
we’re making each other into a mate for life.”
“Aye, I really believe that too,” said Ben, giving Marcie a squeeze and then just a peck on the
lips before making an apologetic face and getting back into his own chair. He went on, “And
I knew that, when I woke myself up with a jolt, coming out of the dream with relief. You
were there beside me, in bed, the real you. I felt such warmth and comfort, just sensing
your presence.”
“That’s good,” Marcie affirmed, “But I’m wondering, are you planning to announce any of
this to your dad? It might be a bit of a heavy thing to admit to.”
“I don’t know,” Ben confessed, “I guess I’ll play it by ear. He won’t doubt us, or put
pressure on us. He’ll just accept what we say, whatever that is, I’m pretty sure. But I guess
he might suspect something already. He’s not met any of my girlfriends since Phoebe, and
he knows I’m more grown up now.”
“But he knew Ashleigh too, right?” Marcie asked cheekily as Ben helped himself to more
toast. He was glad in a way that she’d brought that up. He’d suddenly felt quite serious
about what he might tell his dad, but he knew that telling Marcie more of the story about
Ash would be one of their light-hearted games.
“Aye, I said her parents were old friends of our parents, right? But she was never my
girlfriend, it was just a one-off,” Ben reminded her, unsure of what he’d said himself now in
his distracted state earlier that morning.
“Did any of them find out what had happened between you two, or suspect anything, do
you think? Holy Mary, did your brother find out when he got back from his Navy tour?”
Marcie asked with rising fascination, admitting, “That must have been awful for both of you.
But if he never did and they’re still together that’s almost worse. I might find it really
difficult looking her in the eye if she’s like his wife now or something.”
“No, no one ever knew, as far as I know, and it didn’t last, her relationship with Adam,” Ben
said honestly. He went on to explain to Marcie what little he knew, “She only came around
once or twice after that, I think, to the farm, as his girlfriend I mean, later that summer. She
ignored me, deliberately I think, like she wouldn’t look me in the eye, as you say. Then
they’d broken up. Maybe he found out something, about her infidelity while he’d been
away, or suspected her, but if so, he didn’t link her to me. There were never any scenes, or
awkward suspicious moods, with me and him. I figure if she went with me, there must have
been others.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Marcie cautioned him, “Girls who get a bad reputation often aren’t
as promiscuous as the boys would like to believe, or the bitchy girls in their peer group
might insinuate.”
“I honestly don’t know, she was in a different league back then,” Ben admitted, “Perhaps
they just decided to quit, maybe because they’d realised they weren’t actually that into
each other. Or maybe she told him straight, not that she’d been unfaithful, but that he
couldn’t expect her to just wait, at home on her own, when he went away. Especially at that
age, eighteen, nineteen, when I think you want to have fun, you know, expressing your fully
ripened sexuality.”
“‘Ripened,’ that’s a good word, coming from a country boy. But it’s not as if it’s over in one
season, right? I think we’re still pretty fresh and juicy in our sexuality,” Marcie remarked
with a sly smile as she poured the last of the coffee. Ben could tell from the twinkle in her
eye that she was having cheeky thoughts as she went on, “It sounds like your budding
cherry was already ripe and ready to eat too, at fourteen, wasn’t it? Would you be able to
show me where this top secret milestone occurred, if we could pop out after lunch this
afternoon on our own?”
“No, my parents sold the barn, before my mother died, to a developer. It’s a house now,
with a family in it, I think,” Ben explained. He’d already guessed what might be on Marcie’s
mind though, so he tentatively suggested, “We could still go for a walk though, just the two
of us. I could show you around a bit, maybe find where I made dens as a boy, sometimes
with my brother. Maybe we could even find our own private nook, you know, to make our
own milestone, to play our games with nature’s forces, like you said, to play with Roddie
and Vixen, under the open sky, in wild nature.”
“I’d like that a lot,” Marcie said, beaming at him, “I’ll make sure I’m carrying a condom
ready to go, just like Ashleigh.” But then she frowned and reached to clutch his hand as her
serious side seem to come forwards again, saying, “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t mind me
teasing and probing about your lost loves, do you? You know I’m only doing it because I’m
nosy. I’m a hundred percent confident in us you know, that your book is checked out in my
name now, right? Also, you do know that there’s nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about in
what happened with Ashleigh, don’t you? It sounds like she was a tease, and you went
along with it, but then she was mean to you when she said she’d make accusations if you
broke your secret. It was her that was in the wrong, you know. You could even call what she
did abuse, given the difference in your ages.”
“Aye, thank you,” Ben confirmed, “I did feel guilty and anxious straight afterwards, but I felt
good about it too. I never thought I was a victim, just lucky, even if I couldn’t tell anyone. It
gave me a bit more confidence, I guess, when I started trying to find a proper girlfriend,
someone my age.”
“Like your friend who kept horses?” Marcie prompted, “You could share your newfound
skills in the ways of a woman’s body with her?”
“Aye, something like that,” Ben admitted, “Jamie and I did take it that far, in the end. But
she moved on soon afterwards, when she went to sixth form. I guess she wanted a
boyfriend who could do A-Levels with her.”
“Aw, well that was her loss,” Marcie said with sympathy, adding, “You know I see things in
you, in your quick and sparky mind, that go rather beyond an ability to answer questions in
an exam room, don’t you?”
“Aye, I see that,” Ben reassured her sincerely, “It was pretty much the first thing we sorted,
wasn’t it? That we could make a go of it, even though you’re cleverer than me.” He saw
Marcie was about to interrupt, to downplay her own intellect he was sure, but he held up
his hand and stopped her by going on, “No, it’s true. You’re an intellectual, I’m not, and yet
we’re getting on just fine, clearly. But I like your idea of writing something, to write about
my first time with Ash, and to share it with you. Then maybe you could share what you’ve
written, about your fantasies, if you’ll let me read them.”
“Oh Ben, that does sound like an interesting new game, if you’re up for it,” Marcie admitted,
“I’d be very embarrassed about showing you my writing though, I’m sure, but it feels as if it
would be exciting to feel that and still share it anyway. I know you’ll be polite and open-
minded, and you can count on me being kind and non-judgemental too, if you want my help
with your English I mean, as well as about what you write. But come on, we’d better get a
move on. The washing will be nearly finished and we need to get ready to leave.”
Her words stirred them both into action, as Ben started tidying the breakfast things away
and Marcie went to finish sorting her hair. She came back through to the kitchen a few
minutes later with her hair pinned up glamorously in large sparkling clips, and offered to
help with the washing up, but Ben said he was fine as things could be left to drain, so she
went on to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Ben joined her as she was finishing, when she
gave him a little minty kiss before excusing herself to go and put some makeup on. He
heard the washing machine finish while she was still in the bedroom, so once he’d finished
his teeth and used his brown inhaler, he got the pegs from the hallway cupboard, unloaded
the machine, unlocked the back door and, slipping his sandals on, hung the laundry out. He
felt a warm sense of belonging as he worked. Though he guessed it might always seem like
Marcie’s flat first and foremost, the confidence that he felt in the everyday mechanics of
domestic life made him feel very much as if he were making it his home too.
Locking the back door and slipping off his sandals again, he went through to the bedroom
to find Marcie just finishing her makeup. The air was fresh from the open windows yet also
heavy with the delicious scent of her woody citrus perfume. Ben inhaled deeply as he came
behind her, sitting on the bed and then remarking on how much he loved her scent. She
gave him a smile in the mirror as she mentioned that it had bergamot in, and she
remembered seeing bergamot oranges growing on Malta’s trees.
He had also noticed the way that her russet lipstick emphasised the beguiling width of her
mouth, and the way that her eyeliner and mascara exaggerated her long lashes. As she
twisted her head to each side, as if trying to catch herself in profile in the mirror, he said
truthfully that she looked lovely.
Marcie gave him a saucy pout in her reflection, then warned him that there would be no
kissing now until they’d got to Lincolnshire and at least said hello to his dad. Then she
turned and rose to her feet to ask his opinion as to whether she should wear a thick black
belt that she’d picked up over her loose blouse to complete the outfit. As Ben looked down,
he saw she was already laced into her long soft leather boots that she’d teased him about
so much, but then used so sexily with him. Looking back up into her dazzlingly pretty
brown eyes with their long lashes, beneath her hopefully arched eyebrows, he said she
already looked amazing and that he thought there was no need for it.
Accepting his judgment, she cast the belt aside, then picked up an outdoor jacket and the
small black handbag that she’d taken on their night out in town, obviously already packed
with the few things she thought she needed. Ben wondered if she’d remembered the
condom that they’d discussed, he but didn’t want to pry or give the impression that he
expected to use it, just in case she’d had second thoughts, so he didn’t say anything.
Instead he confirmed their plan for the journey, down the A1 then turning east for the
sequence of short and easy motorway changes toward Scunthorpe. He suggested they
could split the driving, and assured her it was a simple route, except for the last fifteen
minutes, but if she took them out of Newcastle, they could swap over well before that.
Marcie agreed, then suggested that they the box of The Lord of the Rings story CDs to listen
to on the way, leading him through to the living room to collect it, with Ben gathering his
own jacket and his other things as they went. As he put his shoes on ready to leave, he
confirmed his mantra of wallet, keys, phone and puffer with her, then they set out.
The morning seemed fresh as they walked to the car, with patches of blue sky breaking
through. Once they’d got into their seats, Ben started the first CD under Marcie’s direction,
before they moved off. As she drove them through Jesmond, heading for the dual-
carriageway and the bridge over the Tyne, she shot him a few anxious glances. Ben guessed
what she was thinking as the recorded drama played, and set her mind at rest, saying it
wasn’t what he’d usually listen to, but he’d still like to give it a go, whilst she admitted it
wasn’t quite what she was expecting either. They carried on listening to the staged radio
play as Marcie found her way through Gateshead and onto the national artery of the A1.
They’d been on the A1 for a while and just moved onto the story’s second instalment when
Ben’s phones rang. Marcie paused the CD as he fished it out of his jacket and answered. He
was surprised to hear Detective Simon’s voice, “Ben, I’m glad I caught you. Is this a good
time? You’re not taking a call while you’re driving are you?”
He reassured him that he was not, explaining that he was with Marcie, and she was driving
them to Lincolnshire to see his dad. He thought to ask, feeling anxious, if that was okay, or if
the detective needed him in Newcastle. “No, don’t worry, it’s not anything like that,” Simon
reassured him, before launching into an explanation, “I wanted you to know we’ve made
good progress on our investigation into your incident, though I’m afraid I can’t share all
the details with you. I can tell you that we did get a call to Crimestoppers, and we picked up
two lads this morning, a couple of known scallywags. They’re in the cells now, having a bit
of time to think about things. They didn’t exactly say, ‘It’s a fair cop, guv, you’ve got us
banged to rights.’ But we found clothes that reeked of diesel at both their homes, and we’ve
got our informer’s statement about their drunken boasts. They could be looking at a very
long time inside, and that will be slowly sinking into even their muddled heads.”
“So is that it then, they’re the ones who did it? Just local lads who got carried away, with
what was like a bit of vandalism?” Ben asked, after he’d very briefly passed on the news to
Marcie that Simon had got someone.
“I’ll level with you, Ben, I don’t think so,” Simon went on explaining, “They’ve got form for
vandalism, yes, as well as petty theft, common assault, obstructing the police in the
execution of their duty and so on. But they’re just a pair of chumps at the end of the day.
I’m working on the idea that someone set them up for it, one of those parties who we
discussed who might have wished you ill. It probably wouldn’t take more than a couple of
rounds in the pub and a couple of hundred to encourage them to do something really
stupid. But I’ll let you in on a bit of tradecraft, Ben. Now we’ve got them in the cells, for
twenty-four hours if we need it, we can impress upon them the importance of letting us
know who set them up for it. With two of them, being kept separate, they’ll be frantic about
their mate spilling the beans before them. Once they really believe just how heavy the
sentences are that they’re facing, and they begin to take us seriously about how much that
could be commuted for telling us who set them up for it… Well, let’s say I think I might be
organising a morning call on someone else regarding this quite soon.”
“That’s good news, I guess,” Ben said, adding, “I really appreciate this. Thank you, on a
Sunday too.”
“No problem, Ben,” Simon reassured him over the tinny connection, “It’s good to keep the
pace up while it’s interesting, before memories fade and things cool off. Speaking of which,
I also had a few words with Marcie’s professor yesterday. He’s certainly a piece of work,
isn’t he?”
“How do you mean?” Ben asked.
“Well, he was certainly not pleased to see me and Constable Walker on his gentile doorstep,
I can tell you. He started blustering about invasion of privacy and official complaints. He
was keen to say, quite loudly, that he knew the chief constable personally. He piped right
down when I mentioned my own hocus-pocus about investigatory powers, aggravated
criminal damage and arson with intent to endanger life. He couldn’t be helpful enough then,
though he was absolutely desperate to avoid being taken down to the station, ‘Via the back-
door,’ as he put it. He took us to his study to write up a statement with Constable Walker as
a witness right then. He said he has seen you just twice, and only briefly. He admitted that
he’d not taken kindly to you, that you were not his sort, but he swore he had only the
vaguest idea where your boxes had come from. He even offered to show us them straight
away, still in his office exactly where you’d dumped them I imagine. My guess is that he was
in a right palaver already, clueless about what to do with this accumulated evidence of a
prolonged extra-marital affair. He must have been struggling to use that great brain to
work out how to bring armfuls of personal effects back into the family home, as if out of
thin air, and pass it off with some story about working late in the office.”
“Well, thanks again,” Ben responded, unsure of what to make of these insights into the
professor’s behaviour, or what the detective might have meant by sharing them, “I hope
Richard won’t put you to any bother, with a complaint.”
Simon laughed, “It would be an honour and a privilege to discuss this with the CC. It always
feels as if I’m doing something right when feathers are a bit ruffled. Anyway, I hope that I’ll
be calling you again soon with another update early next week, but if that’s all for now, I’ll
let you two young lovebirds get on with your day.”
Ben thanked him again, checked there was nothing that Simon needed of him, then he rung
off. Marcie was extremely keen to hear exactly what Simon had said, taking the opportunity
to pull into a minor service station so that she could concentrate properly. She was
intrigued that the detective had shared his game plan for the suspects with Ben. She
speculated that he might have been fishing for ideas from Ben himself, as if the idea of
someone approaching the lads to do their dirty work might jog something in his memory.
She was even more interested in Ben’s relayed description of Richard’s reactions to the
detective’s visit. At first she seemed embarrassed, as if his rude behaviour were her fault in
some way. But then it seemed she took a kind of shocked delight in what Ben passed on, as
if she was quite warming to the idea of Richard finding himself squirming in his own
awkward embarrassment.
“I didn’t know he was in with the chief constable, but complaining about something as
serious as this could really backfire on him,” she said. “I’ve glimpsed the small world at the
top, of judges, councillors, heavyweight university patrons, the great and the good of
Tyneside. They’re as bad for gossip as a bunch of fish-wives. If the wrong word gets around
about the incumbent professor of criminal law, he won’t even be able to show his face in
public.”
“But why did Simon tell us all that? Do you really think he might be behind this?” Ben asked,
his mind reeling a little at the idea of the jealous Richard risking so much to get back at him.
“I honestly don’t know,” Marcie admitted, “Last week I’d have thought it utterly
unimaginable. But now, well, I guess I defer to the DCI’s experience and judgment. He
hinted that Richard was still on his list of suspects, didn’t he? If the bookies were taking
bets, I wouldn’t put money on him though. It seems very unlikely that after making his
career studying criminal justice, he’d put himself on the receiving end of it. I wonder if
Simon has actually already decided that Richard is innocent, but he took a personal dislike
to him. So he even though he knows the professor is never going to end up in court, he still
wanted us to know that he’s going to be squirming and suffering for his arrogant, selfish
and bullying behaviour.”
“Aye, maybe. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Ben concluded, then another thought
occurred to him, “Simon didn’t mention Jo. Do you think he visited her too, for his
investigation? Maybe he didn’t say because he’s got something on her. You don’t think
those two lads in the cells are Jack and Patch do you, that she set them up for it, after we all
met on Thursday? That would be awful, if she got them into trouble.”
“No, that doesn’t sound very likely at all,” Marcie said thoughtfully, “I really can’t imagine
her doing something so drastic. Now, I hate to question your past good taste, but you can
guess that I don’t have a very high opinion of her. I think I once called her a bitch, and she
didn’t do much to change my mind when I briefly met her. But to wilfully engineer a
conspiracy to burn down your workshop and home, well, that would make her more like a
psychopath, and I don’t think she’s that.”
“Aye well, either way, there’s nothing for us to do about it all now, except to keep the
details of what Simon’s told us to ourselves, like before, and keep out of the way of
Richard’s way I guess, and Jo’s too maybe.”
Marcie strongly agreed to that, and then agreed to Ben’s suggestion to take over the driving
too. Though the driving position and controls seemed a little small to him once they’d
swapped seats, Ben felt comfortable and confident as he set off, even as he mentally
resolved to take it calmly and steadily. They’d restarted the story CD, but hadn’t been going
long when Ben’s phone rang again. He wondered if it could be the detective again with
something that he’d forgotten to say, as Marcie picked up the call.
Ben could only hear one side of the conversation, but Marcie made it clear who it was as
she spoke, “Oh, hello Mister Osborne. Okay. Yes, we’re just on our way now Dave, still north
of York, I think. Ben’s driving. It’s been no trouble at all, really, a pleasure. I was very glad
that I was there to help. Yes, he’s doing just fine, but I guess we’ll have to wait to hear what
the consultant says, and his work too. Okay. No, he didn’t say his aunt had a special friend,
but I understand. Yes, it will be lovely to meet all three of them. Just for a cup of tea then, as
you say, before we head off and leave you in peace. I’m looking forward to it too, Dave. I’m
very keen to see the farm. That’s very kind of you. Well, thanks for letting us know. Bye-bye
then, bye.”
“Thanks for taking that. Was it okay, to talk to him I mean?” Ben asked apprehensively,
feeling a little bit awkward himself on Marcie’s behalf.
“No problem at all!” Marcie said brightly, “It was a bit of a surprise when I’d expected it to
be DCI Bailey, but I think your dad was a bit surprised too, hearing my voice on your
number. He was very sweet though, and it’s good that we’ve sort of broken the ice now
too.”
“It sounded like he’d dropped some surprise visitors on us though,” Ben prompted.
“Yes, but it’s okay. I’ll cope, I’m a big girl,” Marcie reassured him. Whilst he concentrated
on the road, Ben could hear the humour in her voice, “I bet the phone lines of Lincolnshire
have been hot with all your news, especially regarding a mysterious new friend with a
strange foreign-sounding name. So I’ll be meeting your grandmother, your aunt and her
friend too this afternoon, it seems. I can’t begrudge them the chance to satisfy their
curiosity, seizing the chance to get a look at their little Benjamin’s latest prize.”
“I’m sorry. And that’s not how I see it. It’s not like I’m showing off a trophy,” Ben said
meekly.
“I’m teasing!” Marcie laughed happily, “I am a bit anxious about putting on a show for them
all, but it’s nice in a way too. It might mean that I’ll get to know you a bit better too,
through them. Like with your aunt. You didn’t say she was a tribadist.”
“A what?” Ben asked in confusion.
“Sorry. That was very rude of me,” Marcie admitted, “You didn’t say she was gay. It maybe
explains your own apparent lack of homophobia.”
“Aye, I guess I didn’t mention it,” Ben confessed, “She’s been with Ginny forever. It was like
they were both my aunts, when I was growing up. They’re just two countryside women
though, both schoolteachers, who always do things together, except they work at different
schools. It’s not like they’re affectionate in public, or as if either of them are militant dykes
- if I can use a rude word in private too. Auntie Grace can be a bit sharp and grumpy, but
Ginny’s is always chatty and positive.”
“And your grandmother, would you say she’s easy to get on with?” Marcie asked, her tone
perhaps revealing her anxiety a little now.
“Well, she can be a bit sharp too,” Ben admitted, “But I guess life’s taken its toll with her,
with her arthritis and all that. She’s been a widow since I was a little boy, and maybe seeing
my dad lose my mum was hard on her too. Maybe she’s a bit like your Nanna, fading a bit,
thinking as much of those who’ve gone, you know, rather than the future. She’s a
churchgoer too.”
“Well, I’m sure it will be very interesting to meet them all,” Marcie said positively, then
explained, “Your dad said they’re not coming until later anyway, just for afternoon tea, so
you’ll have time to fill him in with all the details of your news, and you and I might get a bit
of time to explore your boyhood haunts on our own before they arrive.”
Ben said that sounded nice, then they agreed to carry on with the story of The Lord of the
Rings, as Ben was beginning to get into it. He thought it made the journey pass seem to pass
more quickly too, even though it was still over an hour before he pulled off the road to
bump up the familiar driveway to his childhood home.
Chapter 39
As they pulled up into the yard, the sun was breaking through the scattered clouds, making
the red brick farmhouse shine. Ben’s dad must have seen them arrive, as he came out to
meet them, dressed in dark cords, a shirt and tie, and his slippers. He held his arms out to
Ben and they had a quick manly hug, his dad saying he was glad to see him safe and well.
Then Ben shyly introduced him to Marcie, who let Dave shake her hand firmly as he gave
her a beaming smile, saying, “Welcome to Askholm Farm. I hope you don’t mind taking us
as you find us.”
He ushered them back inside, where they caught the mouth-watering smell of the roasting
joint as he took their jackets. As they passed the dining room, he pointed out that he’d laid
everything out on the table ready for them, explaining that it barely ever got used
otherwise. Marcie noticed there were four places set and asked if one of Ben’s relations
was joining them earlier after all.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Dave said as they moved into the big kitchen. He seemed a little
shifty or embarrassed as he explained, whilst hanging their jackets by the back door, “You
must forgive a foolish old man, but I still set a place for Ben’s mum. You know we lost her
six years ago? Well, it was a bit of comfort to imagine her still about the place, and I’m stuck
in the habit now. You don’t think I’m too daft, do you?”
“No,” Marcie reassured him warmly, “I understand, and I think I know how you feel. Ben
probably didn’t say, but I lost my own dad when I was seventeen. It’s hard to believe
they’re really gone, isn’t it? It’s like that poem goes, ‘I have only slipped away into the next
room.’”
“Aye,” Dave said earnestly, suddenly clasping her hand as if she were an old friend, “Aye,
you’ve got it exactly right. That’s what they read at funerals, right enough. Now, I’m not
exactly a man of faith, but there’s something you feel, isn’t there? How do the words go -
they’re still somewhere very near, ‘Just around the corner.’ Oh, I’m sorry, my love,” he
went on, dropping her hand, “I am sounding like I’ve gone daft, aren’t I? Maybe it’s seeing
you. It’s reminded me, and I wish our Mum, Daisy, were here to welcome you too. And I’m
sorry for your loss too. That must have been hard.”
“Thank you,” Marcie said with a kindly smile to the older man, “But I’m sorry too, I didn’t
mean to remind you of your grief. And please don’t worry, I’m quite sure you’re not daft. It
sounds as if you’ve been very sensible and practical about the whole thing. It must have
been hard when you’ve got a working farm to see to every day as well.”
“Aye, the farm’s always there. But let’s not get all maudlin,” Dave said, pulling his
shoulders back, “It’s not really grief anymore, just habit, as I said. No, today’s a celebration!
One of my sons has brought a girlfriend home who he’s not ashamed to introduce to his old
man. It really is a delight to meet you, my love, and it’s very good of you to go through with
meeting Ben’s grandmother and aunts too. It’s just such a shame that it’s on the heels of all
your bad luck, Son.”
They got to talking about Ben’s trip to hospital and the fire then, whilst Dave put the
vegetables on to boil. Marcie was very keen to help, and eventually persuaded the older
man to let her make the gravy. As she cooked the flour in the beef’s juices, with the
delicious-smelling meat now out of the oven and resting, Ben mixed drinks for them all,
with Marcie joining Dave in having a gin and tonic whilst Ben helped himself to a bottle of
his dad’s homebrewed bitter. And all the while, they talked about Ben’s news.
Ben didn’t hide the fact that his lung condition was chronic, but he tried to play down the
severity of his asthma attack in the gym. Dave got the details out of Marcie in the end
though, and thanked her effusively and earnestly for saving his son’s life. Then, once they’d
talked about his hospital discharge, his GP visit and the compensation claim, they discussed
Ben’s move to Marcie’s nice clean flat. Ben explained a little about the neighbours and his
plans for the shared backyard, though he silently noticed that both he and Marcie had
managed to avoid any mention of Richard at all. But then the conversation turned
inevitably to the fire.
Marcie described the scene as they’d arrived, explaining that Ben had been quite upset. His
dad was very sympathetic, and asked if Ben wanted to go through his old things upstairs to
see if there was anything he could take back up to Newcastle to replace the lost clothes and
things. Ben said he wouldn’t do that today, as they had luckily already brought all his
essentials around to Marcie’s flat, as he still called it. He also explained that he expected the
insurance to pay out without any trouble, so he could buy new stuff when he was ready. He
also explained that they’d planned to have a bit of a sort of what was already in Marcie’s
flat first anyway, and perhaps bring some boxes of things they didn’t need back down to
the farm for safe storage, which of course his dad agreed to. But Marcie again mentioned
the severity of the loss, expressing her deep sympathy for how it come on the heels of Ben’s
bad news about his lungs. She said what a shame it was that Ben had lost his irreplaceable
model ships especially. Dave smiled sadly at that, saying that he remembered Ben’s Lego
models as a boy. Marcie showed enthusiastic interest at this, explaining that their
neighbour’s boys were very into their Lego too. Dave then told her that Ben’s bricks were
still upstairs in the box room if they wanted to pick those up today at least.
But Dave then asked if the police and fire brigade had made any progress with their
investigations into who might have done such an awful thing, to start the fire in the first
place. They’d brought the food to the table by now, and Dave was carving the joint, having
put an empty plate down for Ben’s missing mum. On Dave’s instruction, Ben poured the
wine from the bottle of red that was already open on the table. He’d quickly confirmed with
Marcie that she should have a glass, racking up her glasses now just like his dad, whilst
he’d just stick to water so that he could do the drive.
Then, returning to their main topic, Ben explained that the detective who was investigating
the arson had actually just spoken to them on their way down that morning. Though he
said they’d better not go into the details, the detective had told them that a couple of
suspects had already been caught. Dave gave his own opinion that it sounded very fishy
that the fire had happened just after Ben had started to get serious about his claim, as if
someone connected to the Trust really hadn’t wanted an independent safety audit. Then he
explained that he often worried about the lads he employed on the farm, as there was only
so much he could do for them in the dairy, whilst the cows and machinery could both knock
the life out of a man. He explained he had insurance though, and stressed that he couldn’t
imagine trying to cover things up if someone got hurt. But then he apologised for dwelling
on such serious things, and deliberately changed the subject by saying they should make a
toast.
“Well, here’s to your good health, now you’re in the care of the professionals, Ben. And
here’s to the two of you. I hope you have a wonderful future together,” Dave said, raising
his wineglass.
They each took a sip of their drinks, Ben still on his beer, then Marcie boldly made a toast of
her own, saying in a respectful tone, “And here’s to those who couldn’t be here today.”
“Aye, for your Mum,” Dave said earnestly, nodding towards the empty space, “And for
Adam, may the seas keep him safe.”
They drank again, then tucked into their food, Dave complimenting Marcie enthusiastically
on the gravy. She returned the compliment by praising the meat wholeheartedly, then
asked with an apparent innocent curiosity, “So has Adam brought anyone special home to
meet the family recently?”
Dave laughed, then said, “No, not yet. He’s kept us waiting longer than Ben. I sometimes
wonder if one day he’ll just turn up at the doorstep with a young woman he’s found
somewhere across the seas. Maybe she’ll already be his bride, maybe she’ll even be already
carrying his baby. I imagine her coming from somewhere like Latvia or Estonia, and not
having great English.”
“And would you be okay with that?” Marcie asked bluntly, making very brief conspiratorial
eye contact with Ben.
“Aye, of course, if she’s made Adam a happy man,” Dave answered without hesitation,
“They’d be welcome here, welcome to call the farm home. Though I’ve known for a while
that neither of you boys are farmers really, are you?”
Ben admitted he didn’t think he was, “It’s okay,” his dad reassured him, “It’s not the
business it used to be. There’s not much of a place for family farms these days. It’s all big
business, and I can’t say that’s not progress. People buy their milk in supermarkets, and
they get a better product, which stays fresher for longer. The cows can get better looked
after on these giant farms too, in a way. They’ll have little robots following them around
soon!”
“But on a traditional farm, as I understand it, you’re not just about maximising productivity.
Do you think perhaps you’re a steward of the land too, keeping an eye on the natural
wildlife of the living world too?” Marcie asked cautiously.
“Aye, I think you’re right, my love,” Dave agreed earnestly, adding, “A good farmer has an
eye for that. ‘All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small,’ as the hymn
goes.”
“So what about the wildlife on Askholm Farm then? Ben said you breed farm cats, but I
think he mentioned you had a bit of trouble with rabbits here,” Marcie innocuously
prompted.
“Aye, the cats look after themselves. They’re half-wild, right enough. I just pull out the toms
once they’re weened to pass on to others that want a pet,” Dave said with a small laugh,
“And the rabbits have a warren up by the copse. Ben could show you after lunch,” he added,
and Ben muttered his agreement, then Dave went on “But I’ll be honest with you, it’s the
badgers that worry me.”
“Oh, because of bovine TB,” Marcie said sympathetically.
“Aye,” Dave said seriously. Turning briefly to Ben, he went on, “Do you remember Naomi
and Tom? They’re old friends of the family, Marcie love, and their Ashleigh was our Adam’s
girlfriend for a while. But they got TB on their farm, what, three years back? It was just
before the foot and mouth, though of course we got off lightly with that hereabouts, thank
the Lord. But they had to lose their whole herd. It was a terrible thing, nearly broke Tom.
They got compensation for the animals, but it’s like the line’s broken now, all those
generations, raised from birth in their sheds. They’re just growing fodder now, to sell to the
likes of us who’ve still got our herds.”
“That sounds terrible,” Marcie said.
“Aye, well, there’s always a silver lining, isn’t there?” Dave said with a smile, “Their
Ashleigh’s at home with them now. You know she got out of the vets when she started a
family with Fergus, Ben? Well, they’ve got three boys now, and Ferg is still doing the
blacksmithing - there’s always plenty to keep a farrier busy hereabouts. But anyway, she’s
starting up this luxury camping business on some of the old meadows, with her parents’
help. Tom tells me that she reckons folk will come out from the cities to spend a few days in
the countryside, sleeping in a big old-fashioned canvas tent, around a crummy old log-
burner, and pay hundreds of pounds for it! Maybe there’s something in the novelty of it, the
feel of the thing, bedding down all snug, still outside with the sounds and smells of the
outdoors all around you. That could be the future, Marcie love, diversification, treating
wildlife and nature as an asset, in our care, like you say. Did you want a second plateful, by
the way my love? You’ve had a long drive today.”
“Just a little, thanks. I think Ben’s the one with the bigger appetite. But is that something
you’re thinking about too then, Dave?” she asked, then giggled as she clarified,
“Diversification I mean, not bedding down outside.”
“No, I’m too stuck in my ways. I won’t be doing neither now!” he laughed as he carved
more meat for all of them and Ben topped up their glasses, “Maybe I am just the steward
now, the caretaker, not the planner, the entrepreneur. That’s for others to do, I reckon. I
look after the cows, give them a good life, I hope. And I look after the lads too. It’s not much,
but it’s keeping the three of them off benefits. But I must be boring you, going on about
people you don’t know.”
“Not at all,” Marcie reassured me, “Ben’s already mentioned some of the families around
here who he grew up with. Wasn’t there a neighbour called Jamie who had horses on her
parents’ farm?”
“Aye,” Dave said with surprise, “You told Marcie about Jamie did you, Son?”
“Aye,” Ben reassured him, “She knows she was one of my first girlfriends. But it was so
long ago, there’s no reason for Marcie to be jealous.”
“Well, she’s certainly doing well for herself,” Dave said, “You knew she got into vet school?
She aimed a bit higher than poor Ashleigh, I guess. Di and Clive still have their horses, and
they’ve extended the stables. Maybe the livery brings in more than anything else for them
now. But Jamie’s not on call for them anymore! The last I heard she’d landed a residency
down in Newmarket, you know, working in their elite studs. I guess it doesn’t get more
prestigious than that if you’re a horse doctor!”
“Good for her,” Ben said, genuinely without rancour.
“There are still farmers with horses around here then? I guess you have a local hunt,”
Marcie probed.
“Well, aye, yes,” Dave said cautiously, “But maybe you’d better ask Ben’s grandmother
about that. She was in with the masters and the huntsman when she was younger, and I
think she still talks to those folk now. But you know that big march against the ban last year?
It was a bit of a country versus town thing, or the shires versus London maybe, I don’t
know if you city-folk saw it that way. Well, I reckon it split the country-folk too. I’m not
much of a friend of the hunt. They’re not welcome here when they crash through the fences
and upset the herd with their stupid bloody games of chase, pardon my French. I don’t
know if you want to hear this, my love, but if you’re a farmer who’s worried about a fox,
maybe if you’ve got chickens, then a shotgun solves the problem a whole lot quicker.”
“I understand,” Marcie said politely, “I’ll be honest with you too, Dave. I like natural
wildlife and I’d love to see a fox out in the open countryside, wild and free. But I
understand there’s got to be a balance, making space for nature, but not at the expense of
the farmers’ livelihoods. The countryside we know and take so much pleasure from would
be lost if you all went out of business, or if it all got ploughed up for mega-farms and
landscaped for golf courses.”
“Aye, that’s how it is,” Dave agreed emphatically, but something else seemed to be on his
mind. He drew a deep breath, then said, “I’ll be honest with you too, Marcie love. This is a
terrible secret, and I wouldn’t tell a living soul outside the family, but I’ve sometimes used
a shotgun to solve my badger worries too. Just in the autumn, when the sows aren’t
farrowing. You can catch them at dusk. I just want to put them off setting up home too close
to the pasture, do you understand?”
“That’s a terrible risk, Dad,” Ben protested, “You could be in serious trouble with the police,
if anyone found out and spragged.”
“Aye, I know, but I just don’t want to lose the herd,” the older man said guiltily.
“Maybe it’s not worth it, you know, not until there’s word on an official cull,” Ben said
firmly.
“You won’t mention this to anyone else, will you?” his dad said anxiously.
“Of course not!” Marcie said, reaching across to give his hand a quick squeeze, “You’ve got
to do what you think is right, and we won’t interfere. And Ben already knows he can trust
me with anything, don’t you love?” reaching out with her other hand to squeeze his big
paw too.
“Aye, it’s all okay Dad,” Ben reassured him, as he felt Marcie pass on a parting grip, then
release their hands. “I just don’t like to think of you taking risks. And I’ll look of for signs of
a sett or digging, if I walk Marcie out to the copse after lunch.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad up there,” his dad said meekly, “That’s far enough out, probably.
But I’m sorry to get all maudlin on you both again. There’s pudding yet! It’s not much, just
a blancmange, but it was one of Ben’s favourites as a boy.”
“Oh Dad, you shouldn’t have,” Ben said, feeling a little embarrassed by what Marcie would
think when she saw the pink wobbly dome of milk pudding.
“I know,” his dad replied with a smile, perhaps reading the wrong message into the signs of
embarrassment, “You’re all grown up and sophisticated now, but it cheers me up too.
We’ve got some hundreds and thousands to sprinkle on top. It uses up the milk too.”
“Full fat, I hope?” Marcie said, grinning herself.
“Aye, you’d probably call it gold top!” Dave laughed, pushing his chair back.
They stacked the plates and tidied the main course away into the kitchen as Marcie and Ben
thanked Dave again for preparing a delicious and hearty meal. Then they gathered around
together as Dave got the blancmange out of the fridge and turned the hemispherical fluted
mould over onto a serving plate. As he shook it to release the pudding, he commented that
he should have used the old rabbit mould, as they’d been talking about the little creatures.
Whilst searching the cupboard for the hundreds and thousands, Ben commented that he
was surprised his dad still had it, remembering that his mum had put the rabbit on broken
green jelly for grass when he and Adam were young boys. As the pudding finally came free
with an organic slurping noise, Dave responded by saying that he wouldn’t throw it away,
and anyway, there may be children around the farm again one day. Ben guessed that he
was thinking of grandchildren, but didn’t comment, concentrating instead on sprinkling the
jolly colours of the hundreds and thousands onto the pink dome of the blancmange.
He carried the plate back through to the dining room as Marcie and his dad followed with
spoons and bowls. As they sat down and his dad served, Dave said, “I’ve been a terrible
bore, going on and on about our small world of country living. You’ve not told me anything
about yourself, Marcie love. I’m not even sure what it is that you do.”
“Well, why doesn’t Ben tell you?” Marcie suggested playfully, “Don’t worry love, it
wouldn’t be a test. I’m just curious how well I’ve explained it, even though we’ve not
talked about it that much.”
“Right, well, you did A-Levels in proper bookish things like classics,” he began, and his dad
nodded appreciatively, clearly already impressed, “She has so many books, Dad. You’d have
to see it to believe it!”
“Aye, well I’d like that, to pop up to Newcastle sometime and see you both in your new
shared home,” Dave said, smiling.
“That would be lovely, Dave,” Marcie responded warmly, then encouraged Ben go on.
“Aye. Well, after A-Levels you studied the law at Manchester University, so you could stay
at home with your mum. But that was just your first degree, because you did your
computer science master’s straight after that. That taught you computer languages like
Prolog. Oh, and you studied lots of real foreign languages too. And then you moved to
Newcastle, for a job at the university, but it’s like two jobs, because you’re working
towards an information science PhD, and you’re also working in the universities’ Robinson
Library, just three days a week. But it all links up, because information science is about
using computers to work with things like library catalogues, but also for things we find on
the Internet now, on the Web. And what you’re doing specifically, it’s like creating a web of
meaning, linking everything to do with law, or not all law, just criminal laws and cases for
now. But that means your computer will be able to think like lawyers, or help them to
organise the things they know least. The way I imagine it, it’s a bit like one of those mind
maps, do you know them, Dad? You put a word or a picture in the middle of the page, for an
idea, then you draw lines with other words on, for all the things you think might link to that
idea, then more lines from those ideas, and so on. And because computers are doing it, they
remember it perfectly, like everyone’s date of birth, or when they visited their doctor. So
people, lawyers specifically for Marcie’s computer, can find things they didn’t know, or
forgot were linked.”
“Gosh, I’m very impressed,” Dave said, puffing out a lungful of air as if his head were
reeling, “You know I love you and your brother, Son, and I’m very proud of you both, but I
never would have imagined you’d catch the eye of someone who could do all that. A proper
scientist in a university, inventing new computers!”
“I’m very impressed too,” Marcie said, grinning broadly, “I couldn’t have summarised it
better or more clearly myself. Though I guess you’d call my ontology inference engine a
computer program rather than a new computer itself. Anyway, you really do get what I do,
don’t you love?”
“I didn’t think I did, but maybe I’m getting there, if you say so,” Ben said with relief, adding,
“And that was a great pudding, by the way, Dad. It was a treat, bringing back happy
memories, after so many years, like the roast too.”
“Well, it’s like dining in here, I don’t get the chance to enjoy proper meat or milk puddings
at parties these days. They’re largely a thing of memory for me now, so I’m glad I could
treat you two today. I’d love to chat more about your university, Marcie love, but did you
two want to get off for your walk now? I can tidy up, and we can have a cuppa when you get
back, when Granny and your aunts are here, Ben.”
Ben and Marcie agreed to that, then started helping to gather the dirty pots up, until Dave
shooed them towards the back door. But as he looked down at the ranks of wellington’s
lined up under the pegs where they’d hung their jackets, a thought seemed to occur to him,
“You’d better borrow some wellies. It’s still a bit wet out, and you don’t want to step on
anything in the farmyard in those beautiful boots, Marcie love. I noticed how smart they
were when you first came in. You’re really taking care of the leather too, I can tell. I used to
despair of Ben looking after his shoes as well as that when he was a young man. Here, I
think we’ve got a spare pair that might be your size. You too, Ben, if you want to save your
shoes. You can borrow Adam’s.”
Marcie modestly agreed to the older man’s suggestion, but Ben noticed the secretive smile
on her lips, and guessed what she was thinking as she began unlacing her own long boots.
He thought he’d also guessed why there were a pair of ladies’ wellingtons by the back door
though, so as he slipped into his jacket he said, “Weren’t those Mum’s boots, Dad?”
“Aye, I keep them there. It’s a comfort for me, like we said earlier. She’s still just around the
corner, keeping us company. It would make her very happy, you know, seeing you two
together, making such a wonderful couple,” Ben and Marcie both made sympathetic and
appreciative noises, smiling at him, and then at each other, but he went on, “Go on, away
with you now! You’ve had enough of this daft old man for now. Go and explore, have some
fun in the spring sunshine!”
Once Ben and Marcie had both stepped outside and Dave had closed the back door behind
them, they both looked up to the blue sky with its scattered clouds, still smiling as they took
deep breaths. Ben apologised for the smell of cows, this close to the sheds and dairy, but
Marcie dismissed his worries, saying it was still better than traffic fumes and unwashed
undergraduates. Then Ben confirmed that she wanted to walk up to the small wood that his
dad had mentioned. Marcie agreed, but suggested they pick up her travel blanket just in
case they wanted to sit down. Ben wondered if she was thinking of more than sitting to
watch the view, but he didn’t comment.
As they took a diversion through the farmyard to go via the car, he pointed out the different
buildings, including the converted barn that now had the family living in it. That prompted
Marcie to say it was very interesting to hear the latest news about what Ashleigh was up to.
As Ben took the blanket and Marcie shut the car back up, he lightly admonished her for
being so cheeky when his dad had been passing on Ashleigh’s family news.
“What, with all that about her bedding people outside?” Marcie asked innocently, then
laughed, before reassuring him, “But you know I’d never be too cheeky, don’t you? I’d
never risk dropping a hint that you two had a deadly secret liaison.”
“Aye, I trust you,” Ben said meekly as he opened the gate into the field that would lead
them to the copse. Then he remembered something else, “But what about that badger thing?
I really hope Dad doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
“Well, maybe you gave him second thoughts about trying that again,” Marcie said more
seriously, then went on, “But do you remember exactly what he said? ‘I wouldn’t tell
anyone outside the family,’ wasn’t it? Doesn’t that mean he’s already thinking of me as a
part of your family?”
“Aye, I guess you’re right,” Ben said thoughtfully, “Maybe he’d say he wouldn’t want to
presume, or put any pressure on us, well, you know, to get married I guess. But maybe deep
down he’s already recognised something, that you’re not just my latest girlfriend, but you
really are my life partner.”
“Oh, this has all got a bit serious, hasn’t it?” Marcie said clasping his hand, “It was just
supposed to be a nice day in the countryside, away from the city.”
“But that is where we’re at, isn’t it?” Ben said anxiously.
“You know it is,” she said, stopping in the field to take him in her arms, letting him plant a
gentle kiss on her lips. Then she released him to take just his hand again and tug him
onwards, saying, “It’s happened so fast, but I feel now as if I’ve somehow known you
forever. And you proved that you really do know me, too with that resume of my work and
research. Where on Earth did you hear about Prolog?”
“I must have seen it on one of your books, I guess,” Ben admitted, before checking with
Marcie, “But you really are okay with this, with how Dad has taken it for granted, and with
us taking the long view seriously?”
“Of course! But are you okay with it, more to the point, with all that’s happened to you?”
Marcie asked anxiously, gripping his hand.
“Aye, it’s good. You know that you saved me, and you’re opening up a new world to me, a
new sky for us to both soar into. And it just feels right, like I’m in the best place I can
possibly imagine,” Ben admitted, smiling to himself as he swung their hands, “But Dad, he
started calling you love, didn’t he? I think he really does like you. Then you seemed to pick
up on it too.”
“Well, I guess terms of endearment go with different regions, like pet in Newcastle or Shona
with her hen,” Marcie mused, “The way your dad used love maybe meant something a bit
stronger, but it seemed to fit, as it did when I was talking to you too I thought. You don’t
mind do you, love?”
“No, of course not! So long as you don’t, pet,” Ben replied cheekily.
“That’s all okay then! No, it’s better than just okay. It’s pretty much exactly what I was
hoping when I thought of meeting your dad, that he’d warm to me. So maybe that’s worked
out just as well as I could possibly imagine too. And I’m really finding out things about you
as well,” Marcie said with a smirk, “Like blancmange being your favourite pudding. I
wonder why that does not surprise me at all? I’d bet you’d like to have a pair of them
served up to you even more, all wobbly and milky! Maybe we’d better get some hundreds
and thousands for the cupboard back home, ready for you to sprinkle on some creamy
treats whenever you get a bit peckish? We could even invite Shona around!”
“Don’t tease! I was embarrassed enough when Dad said he’d made it,” Ben said guiltily.
“Don’t be daft! You know it’s all okay, and in a way I’m not just teasing. Remember how
much I wanted you to eat my boob last night, with all that creamy Communion nonsense?
And maybe you’re dad’s not so naive either. Maybe it was his joke too,” Marcie went on as
they began climbing a slight incline, “When he said he didn’t get to enjoy milk puddings at
parties these days, I felt a bit sorry for him. And my boots had obviously really caught his
eye. I am quite sure he is a real gentleman and would be horrified if I thought he saw me in
any way but as a prospective daughter-in-law, so to speak, but the old proverb, ‘Like father,
like son,’ did cross my mind.’”
“Well, I guess that can’t be helped,” Ben said cautiously, “And I guess I should be glad, just
as you maybe should be flattered, like he recognises your true beauty. Perhaps I could just
ask though, please don’t tease him as much as you do me. What was that you said about
foxes, about seeing one out in the open countryside? Well, I’d like to catch a vixen at play
out here too, but that’s just for the two of us.”
“Oh, I’d be very happy with that, to let Vixen free!” Marcie laughed happily, then tipping
her head back to draw breath through her flared nostrils, as if trying to inhale the whole
spring sky.
Chapter 40
They’d already reached the corner of the field that met the edge of the small wood. The
rickety gate was jammed shut and the old paths were overgrown, but Marcie was still keen
to explore, hiking her loose skirt up as Ben helped her over the gate, then crashing with him
through the wild undergrowth. They skirted around some boggy dips, though Ben
explained the landscape and the rock beneath didn’t really give rise to springs or streams
in this part of the world. Warmed by the spring sun and their walk, protected from the
breeze by the trees now, they removed their jackets as they followed a shallow rise up to a
point where Ben remembered a great ash tree grew. He was glad to see it was still there,
though its leaves were only just budding at this time of year. Then he saw that his half-
remembered crow’s nest was still up in its limbs, not much more than twice his height
above the ground. Marcie had already seen it, and he explained it wasn’t a proper tree
house, just a slightly slimy platform, but it used to have a good view south, away from the
farm and towards the Wolds proper. She was eager to see it, so very tentatively, with the
blanket slung over his shoulder, Ben tested the rungs of the ladder that his dad had fixed in
place all those years ago.
They held, and he made it to the top, feeling a little anxious as he’d normally be clipped in
at this height. There was still a handmade railing around the edge of the small platform, but
he didn’t want to trust his weight to it, and it seemed very low. Still, he called down to
Marcie that it was safe to come up, then he began sweeping the accumulated dried leaves
and twigs over the edge. He was glad to see that underneath, the old wooden planks of the
decking were quite dry and in good condition, and he guessed that the natural arboreal
litter had actually been protecting it.
“It’s not slimy up here at all,” Marcie said brightly as she reached the top too, taking Ben’s
offered hand as she stepped off the ladder. She leaned one hand on the tree’s great trunk as
she took in the view, inhaling a deep breath, before saying, “This is really great actually!
The fields go right up into the hills, don’t they? And there’s nothing to spoil the view, no
roads, no pylons, no houses, no barns even, except those ones way over there. I can feel the
wind whispering past us too, feel the fresh air on my skin.”
Ben wiped his hands on his trousers, then stepped up to hold her around the waist, facing
out to stare into the distance with her. He rested his chin against the side of her pinned-
back hair as he stroked her belly through her loose blouse, feeling the breeze whisper
around them and breathing in deeply too. “Aye,” he agreed finally, “It’s like what we’ve
been saying, isn’t it? This is the fresh air we’ve found, from the open sky. It’s our shared
future, freedom, and a gift from the natural world. That’s for real here.”
“Oh, Ben,” Marcie said, turning in his arms to press herself to him as she hugged him in her
arms, “You’re right. It’s magical, isn’t it?”
Ben planted a soft kiss on her upturned mouth, breathing in the scent of her perfume and
clean skin along with the smells of the woodland through his wide nostrils, but then he
pulled back and said, “Aye, it’s magical. But it’s also a bit unsafe. We should sit down, if
we’re stopping here.”
“Ooh, what would I do without your calm good sense?” Marcie said with a warm smile,
dropping her hands to his buttocks to pull his hips against her firmly. She went on with
genuine respect, “You’re the real expert up here, aren’t you? What do you suggest?”
Moving carefully around the small platform, Ben started by laying out the blanket for them
to sit on. As he advised Marcie where to put her feet, he made sure that she had a hand on
the tree or a firm grip on him, just for her reassurance. Also, following her lead, he took his
boots off as they stepped onto their improvised woollen carpet. As he tucked both pairs of
wellingtons away safely into one corner, Marcie slipped off her small handbag to stuff it
away inside one of the boots as well. They wound up side by side, facing the view, their legs
dangling over the edge. Ben had an arm draped over Marcie’s shoulder, whilst her hand
provocatively reached under his shirt to brush the bare skin of his abdomen. As they
soaked up the atmosphere of the trees around them, Ben noticed the whisper of the wind
that Marcie had spoken of as a rustle in the early leaves of the nearby birch trees.
“Do you want me to tell you something that felt a bit naughty?” Marcie asked quietly,
nuzzling up against his ear, as if there were a risk of being overheard. When he agreed, she
went on, “When I said I could feel the breeze, I was actually feeling it rising up my skirt
from below, brushing the skin between my thighs. It was as if the woods and trees were
privately welcoming me, the air moving up the trunk of the tree to touch me intimately.”
“That sound’s nice,” Ben remarked, unsure of what else to say, though his mind had
already made the connection to their discussion this morning about making love outside.
“It was. I’d like to feel it again. Are you sure no one can see us up here? There’s not a
footpath just down there or anything?” she asked. When Ben reassured her that there
wasn’t, Marcie pulled away from him a little, fixed him in the eye with a slightly guilty
expression, then reached under her skirt with both hands and began busily shuffling about.
He briefly wondered what she was up to, but it became clear when she produced a handful
of familiar pale blue lacy satin from under the layers of her loose skirt.
“Would you like to look after these?” she asked, pressing the soft bundle into his hand. He
eagerly took it, even before she suggested, “Perhaps you want them so that you can feel a
bit naughty too, you know, maybe with that thing you do?”
Ben took her meaning as he grinned, fixing her with his own gaze now as he unfolded her
knickers in his hand. He turned them so that the soft panel which had until only a moment
ago been covering her vulva was uppermost, then he raised it to his nose and inhaled
deeply. Marcie giggled a little as he did this, but Ben was not just seeking to make a joke of
it, as the sensations fed his desires in a deliciously arousing way. He relished the feeling of
the silky-smooth material, still warm, brushing against his lips and nose, whilst also filling
his nostrils with the unmistakable musky scent of that most intimate part of Marcie’s body.
“Am I there?” she asked shyly, “Is it Vixen’s cumin fragrance you’re smelling? Ooh, Ben, it’s
so good when you’re burying yourself down against her, you know. I guess I just have to
take your word for it when you say that it’s fun for you too, but your mouth and your
tongue down there… Well, you know what it does for me.”
“Would you like me down there now?” Ben asked, in what he hoped was a seductively
encouraging voice.
“Oh no, not now! That would be too much for my first time outside. I wouldn’t be able to
relax and enjoy it. I just took them off to see if I could feel the breeze again.”
Ben stuffed her knickers safely into his pocket and resigned himself to a more platonic
cuddle, despite Marcie’s initial erotically arousing playfulness. Still with his arm around her
shoulders, whilst hers held him close around his ribs, he turned his face towards her to
brush her warm cheek with his lips. However, with their free hands both roving about in
each other’s laps and then up under their loose tops, it wasn’t long before their kissing and
cuddling became more passionate. Their mouths were ajar, and they both made playful
licking strokes with their tongues, even though their twisted necks made it awkward, with
Ben knocking the corner of Marcie’s glasses too. That did not stop him though, as he
responded to the ticklish pleasure of Marcie’s delicate hand brushing across the skin of his
abdomen and chest by reaching further under her own blouse with his own big paw.
He felt her soft skin above the waistband of her skirt, then stroked up over her stomach,
feeling the creases caused by her curled and twisted position. Then he came to her breast,
touching its mass through the round cup of her bra, and felt his own arousal begin to come
on strong once more. He played his fingertips over the satin material, feeling its lace border
under his fingertips, brushing around the full warm curve, seeking out the bump of her
nipple beneath the fabric. She pulled back from their kiss momentarily to sigh as he did this.
“Can you feel the breeze now, on Vixen?” he murmured.
“No, not now,” she admitted, “But I was thinking of something else, something you might
be able to help with.”
“Well, tell me,” Ben encouraged as she paused, “Didn’t we agree, we can always ask. The
other might say no, but okay to let it come out and be honest, to just say it.”
“Well,” Marcie began shyly, “Do you think you could maybe just stroke me a little, down
here?”
“You know I’d love to,” Ben immediately answered with a broad grin.
“It would feel naughty and exciting, I think, with all of Lincolnshire out there in front of us,”
she giggled, “But maybe we could shuffle around to get comfy.”
So with a few prompts, some careful manoeuvring, a bit of negotiation, then a more
wriggling and shuffling, they found something that suited them. Ben wound up leaning back
against the tree trunk, sitting with his knees up and his legs apart. Meanwhile Marcie had
put her back to him, pushing herself between his thighs so that her buttocks were snug
against the splayed crotch of his jeans. She had one of her own knees up, whilst her other
foot dangled over the edge of the crow’s nest platform. Her legs were parted too, so that
when she began gathering up the layers of her skirt in her lap, Ben could run his rough
hands up the silky-smooth skin of her inner thighs.
She seemed to give a shivering sigh of pleasure as he did so, but though he was a bit
worried that she may have just been reacting to the chilly temperature of his hands, he
didn’t pull back. Indeed, he felt his own growing arousal compelling him to carry on as he
traced the lines of her thighs’ muscles and tendons higher until the point where his hands
converged. He had felt the subtle tickle of her unshaved vulva brush his fingers, somewhere
out of sight beneath the bundled soft fabric in her lap, and now he pressed his cheek to hers
as he tentatively touched her bushy lips.
“That’s it,” she whispered, nuzzling against him, moving her hands from her lap to his
thighs, “I’m in your hands, open to the land and the sky.”
He’d rested one fingertip against her perineum, right over the pursed mouth of her vagina
he guessed, as he used two fingers of his other hand to massage the bristly cushions of her
outer labia, moving up and down with gentle pressure. “I used to watch birds from up
here,” he found himself murmuring as he stroked her, “Wood pigeons, crows and magpies
mostly. Jackdaws or rooks too. Jays, thrushes, woodpeckers occasionally. Starlings and gulls
too, in flocks, crossing the sky and the fields. I saw buzzards, wheeling over the hills, specks
in the sky, way over there. I’d sometimes see hares in the fields too. And in summer, I’d
hear the skylarks, singing without stopping for breath.”
“Hmm, ‘Singing without stopping for breath,’” Marcie repeated, “Flying without tiring,
dancing without getting dizzy, loving without pausing to think, fucking without ever
needing to rest.”
Ben had been rhythmically moving his fingers up and down the full length of her vulva
without yet even trying to find her inner labia or clitoris, just feeling Marcie’s warm fur
beneath his hand as he massaged her fleshy womanhood. Now, further down, beneath his
other hand’s finger, he felt a little greasy dampness arising on the sensitive skin of her
vulva’s lowest point. He cautiously began gently moving his fingertip around, making tiny
circles whilst keeping his contact light and steady. He was both glad and renewed in his
arousal when, as he did this, he felt more lubrication oozing from Marcie’s vagina. He
didn’t pause the massaging strokes of his other hand though, but merely pressed a little
more firmly against the pillowy mounds of her outer lips. It seemed he could comfortably
cover a bit more of her now, using four fingers and the palm of his hand too as she opened
wider to him.
“Animal life must be all around us, right now,” he went on crooning, “Shy and hiding,
scared of the big, noisy, smelly humans. The nocturnal creatures are slumbering in their
dens and roosts. The barn owls and tawny owls. Those worrisome badgers. The hedgehogs
too, their spiky little cousins. The flitting bats, tucked together for warmth. The voles and
dormice, popping out of their tiny holes, rustling through the undergrowth. And the fox,
stealthy and alert.”
“Yes, the bushy Vixen, aroused from slumber, scenting the air,” Marcie murmured, then
gave a luxuriant sigh, pushing herself against him as she gripped his thighs, dropping her
knees to spread her own thighs wider still.
Ben shifted his hands now, bringing his splayed fingers to rest so that he was just parting
her outer lips, whilst he began exploring the warm and wrinkled folds of her inner lips with
the one long middle-finger that her vagina had lubricated. He felt the crease of her vagina
as he pushed between her labia, but he only toyed back and forth across it briefly before
easing his fingertip up higher. He felt his way around blindly, her vulva invisible to him
beneath her bundled skirt, even as she bared it to the empty fields and hills ahead of them.
Yet he thought he’d found the point that her silky lips converged as he felt a slippery nub of
flesh beneath his fingertip.
“Oh, yes Ben. Just there,” Marcie groaned with some urgency, even as she seemed to start
panting.
Guessing that he’d successfully found her clitoris, Ben began to trace delicate circles
around the sensitive bud, moving gently but at a steady pace. He cautiously began to
massage her again with his other hand, striving to keep her wide all the while so that his
circling fingertip could do its work. There was even space for his flanking fingers to muddle
around against her slippery inner labia, though their uncoordinated strokes were driven by
the motion of his key finger on her most sensitive bud.
Marcie had been making a slight keening noise as she panted in his arms, though quieter
than previously, during their moments of passion indoors in her flat. Then she urgently
panted some new firm instructions, “Oh Ben, stop! I want you inside me, now!”
“How? With you on top?” Ben asked, feeling the urgency himself, but unsure about what
they could do, “I’m not sure there’s space to lie down.”
“We could do it doggy style,” Marcie suggested immediately, a little breathlessly.
“Aye, I’m up for that, if you’re okay,” Ben agreed eagerly, even whilst he kept stroking her,
“Did you bring a condom?”
“Of course!” Marcie said, grasping Ben’s hands and pulling them away to forcefully stop his
manipulation of her, as if keen to put her plan into action. As she drew her legs in and got
onto her knees, he tried to keep her steady on their high perch, holding his hand out for
hers or bracing it on her hip as her skirt fell back to her knees. She reached to pull her bag
out of its safe place down inside one of the wellington boots, opened it and pulled out a
familiar foil square, passed the important little item to Ben, then snapped the bag closed
and stuffed it away again, moving quickly and efficiently.
Ben had already undone his belt and started unbuttoning his flies, feeling the relief of the
release of the tight denim’s pressure his erection, which had become full and steady in
sympathetic response to Marcie’s own arousal. Now she was on her knees between his legs,
facing him with an eager expression on her flushed face. “I’ll take these right off,” he said,
and she agreed to help him as he rose unsteadily to his feet, feeling a twinge in his back
where it had been pressing into the tree trunk. Marcie didn’t hesitate to pull his jeans down
for him, making sure that she was also pulling his boxer shorts down at the same time.
His penis was suddenly exposed, long and heavy, sticking forwards slightly as it hung down
almost in Marcie’s face. He felt oddly ashamed of it now, even though she’d been close
enough to put her mouth to it before, and he wondered if he was embarrassed about
exposing himself after all. There was no one around, he was sure of it, but it did feel odd to
be so indecently on display, on a platform that was metres above the ground, with miles of
rolling fields and the open sky in front of him. His foreskin had rolled back at some point
during the arousal of his erection, perhaps when his penis had been squeezed against
Marcie’s back under his jeans, as his hands had played on her vulva. The sight of its bulging
dark red head, and his suspicion that its own unclean fragrance was polluting the air, only
made his exposure more awkward.
Marcie seemed wholly unconcerned though as she smiled up at him. “Do want to pass the
condom back to me so that I can put it on you?” she asked as he absent-mindedly pulled his
jeans and underwear over his ankles and stepped out of them. Once he’d agreed, he
deliberately took a slow breath and savoured the moment, planting his feet apart and
lifting his eyes to the distant horizon. He breathed in the scent of the fresh air, the soil, the
leaf litter, the wood of the tree itself and more. He could still detect Marcie’s perfume,
rising from her warm body and her neatly pinned hair, and now he raised his hand to his
flared nostrils, indulgently inhaling the musky fragrance of her liquid arousal. In his mind
all these scents somehow came together, as if they proved that this was their space. It felt
as if he and Marcie had a deep moral entitlement to be together here, on the land that he’d
been raised on. They were about to complete the timeless and eternal rite, the union of a
man and woman in love, and they were doing so in the heart of nature, where the new life
of spring was emerging all around them.
He looked down to see Marcie easing the condom out of its packet. His penis was already
rising to a new firm tumescence, from his calm acceptance of their place as well as the
direct power of her intimate bodily scent. Now she put her hand around his shaft, and he
felt himself stretching up to a delicious and rigid firmness. She was concentrating on
slipping the rolled-up rubber disk over his head though, so he reached down to hold
himself upright with both hands around the base of his shaft. It felt as if he were offering a
totemic artefact to her, but then he guessed that in a way his virile manhood was the
original article, and all those treasured jewelled rods and sceptres were merely symbolic
echoes of this primal phallus.
Marcie smiled up at him even as she was still rolling down the latex sheath, her hands
moving with a steady confidence that brought shivers of pleasure to Ben. He thought he
saw excited anticipation in her sparkling eyes, behind those serious glasses, which
reflected his own eager enthusiasm. “We’ve got no gel, but you made me quite wet. Can we
try just taking it slowly? I’m very sorry, but if it’s too uncomfortable, I might have to ask
you to stop. Is that okay?”
“Aye, I understand,” Ben answered, a little breathlessly.
“Okay. So is this how it works?” Marcie asked. She’d suddenly twisted around at his feet so
that she was facing away from him, still on her knees, but with her feet pushed back to
either side of his now. She’d also fallen forwards, so her elbows were on the blanket,
pushing her hips up towards him. And in a final quick and dramatic gesture, she’d given the
hem of her skirt a sharp tug so that it was lifted up over her bare bottom. Ben suddenly had
the full sight of her naked hips and buttocks, pale in the daylight despite her natural skin
colour, the crease between them spread wide.
He felt almost as if his breath had been physically forced from him as he sank to his own
knees now, steadying himself on the tree trunk as he shuffled up behind Marcie. Now that
he was lower down and closer to her, he could see the most private points on her body with
vivid clarity. The pursed bud of her anus was clearly visible in the cleft of darker skin, deep
in the long crease that ran down between her full buttocks. Also below that tight hole and
far more beguiling, her vagina was openly exposed before him. At this angle, her labia
seemed exceptionally long and intriguingly alluring. Without the sight of her bushier pubic
triangle, he found the sparse hair of her thick outer lips almost shockingly lewd, whilst her
tawny wrinkled inner lips seemed mouth-wateringly luscious. And there in plain sight, the
glistening cerise pink parting of Marcie’s vagina stretched between her labia, irresistibly
inviting to Ben in his rampant arousal.
Feeling his heart pounding, he did not hesitate to let his impulses guide him. He had to push
his upright erection down firmly to bring his head to her lips, putting one hand against her
anus and perineum to guide himself in. The sensation of her glossy warm skin, even
through the thin rubber, brought a new intensity to his arousal, then he groaned in visceral
satisfaction as he slipped just his head inside her, hearing Marcie gasp in sympathetic
response. Breathing out heavily again as he willed his trembling arousal to relax, he felt her
securely around him as he grasped her bare hips with firm hands.
Ben looked up from Marcie’s naked behind to see again the way that she was crouched
down on all fours before him, the rich colours of her skirt bunched up around her waist,
and above that, the gentile cotton of her loose blouse stretching across her back to her
shoulders. Then all he could see of her head was her neck and her hair. Her bare skin was
rich olive against her white blouse, dappled with small moles beneath her hairline, where
her beautiful thick dark hair was tightly pinned so skilfully into her sophisticated bun. At
that moment he felt as if he were one of the monstrous beasts out of her stories, half-man,
half-bull, driven by instinct to mate with a heavenly woman of pure, divine spirit. Marcie
was the goddess’s chosen priestess, as beautiful as she was wise, adorned in the precious
and hallowed robes of the temple, the best that her refined and elegant civilisation offered,
yet she was still letting him take her like primitive brute, like a wild animal.
He’d started cautiously slipping his penis inside her, making small tentative pulsing thrusts
to push himself deeper. His erection felt shamefully large to him, yet in his utter excitement
he could do nothing about the enormous fulfilment of its maximal length, girth and
pressure now. Yet the stretching muscles of her vagina seemed to be taking him in easily,
with just the natural lubrication of her arousal. She was herself gasping for air as he felt
himself slipping further and deeper inside, her body enveloping his manhood with that
supreme comfort that only she could give. The sensations of making love to her seemed all
the more intense to him like this, when all that he could feel was focused on his penis and
its contact with her vulva, without any of the delightful distractions of her soft breasts, her
caressing hands or her sensuous mouth.
As Ben grew in confidence that Marcie was comfortable too, with his position and just her
natural lubrication on the rubber, he started finding a gentle rhythm to his hips’ movement
against hers, pacing his deep breaths. Despite his impulse to thrust until he climaxed with
as much force as possible, he remained cautiously experimental, remembering that she’d
asked him to go slowly. He also remembered the way that his asthma attack had hit when
he’d been pumping away on top of her on Thursday night too, and he sincerely wanted to
avoid worrying her by repeating that. But Marcie was breathing very heavily herself now,
her head hanging down as she panted in synchronicity with his pulsing movements.
Then she groaned and sunk lower on her elbows, bringing her face right onto the blanket,
stretching her broad hips more firmly back towards him. “Holy Mary, Ben!” he heard her
muffled voice exclaim. Between gasping breaths, she went on, “Is that all you? Mother of
God, this feels so good. Aah, why did no one say? I didn’t know it could feel like this, so
strong, so full. Don’t stop!”
Ben had been a little surprised at her words, but he’d not paused in his gently pumping
repetitive motion as his hands gripped the bare flesh of her hips. “It feels good,” he
managed to say in his own rumbling voice, between his own heavy breaths, “Good for me
too. Beyond comfortable. Like animals, a perfect union.”
He was struggling to concentrate on his words though, so he gave into his sensations as he
felt himself reach and stretch up into Marcie’s snugly deep vagina, slipping back and forth
easily now, along almost the full length of his penis. He felt his pace was steady and even,
without any need for too much exertion, so that he could keep making love to Marcie like
this forever. It was also as if he was in no rush to reach his climax, at ease to enjoy the
ecstasy of this moment, perhaps because he’d already enjoyed so many orgasms with
Marcie in the last few days. He was panting, and he felt sweat trickle from his armpits, but
he felt elated, as if he were truly some divinely chosen channel of masculinity himself now,
raised up in the heart of this mighty ash, consummating this act with his lover, as a primal
ritual, a conjoined performance in the midst of spring, a dynamic centrepiece to this natural
place, emblematic of the new life that was bursting forth all around them.
Each of Marcie’s gasping breaths was coming with grunting animal noises now, rising in
volume even as they sunk in their register. Then suddenly she was pushing back against
him, forcing herself against his hips with chaotic jerks as if she were seeking ways to drive
him deeper still. Ben kept his position firmly though, pushing his pelvis hard against her
buttocks, feeling his solid penis pressing against her vagina’s grip, as he heard her mutter,
distant in her own private world of sensation, yet explosive in her desperate need, “Fuck!
It’s happening. Qaddisa Marija, yes!” Then her hips suddenly became still as she gave a
keening cry of extreme abandonment. Marcie’s whole body seemed to quiver in his hands
and he felt her strong vaginal muscles spasm, squeezing his manhood firmly with an
astonishing sensation. Yet Ben found himself once again moving impulsively back and forth
within her with smooth strokes, breathing heavily, the stiff rigidity of his penis pushing
determinedly against the resistance of her muscles. As Marcie’s own panting breaths came
back to her too, she went on, “Fuck, Ben, Mother of God! Yes, carry on if can. Come too.
Come into me! Holy Mary, I’m ready for you, let it flow. Come to mummy, come home. I’ve
got you. Aah, that’s it! Hold me, I’ve got you safe. Let your honey flow. Cream and sweet
honey, filling my chalice, my cwm, my brimming wellspring!”
Ben was sure that Marcie had experienced her orgasm, against the odds for mere vaginal
intercourse as a distant part of him thought. Yet he had a more definite concern that Marcie
may be becoming tired and uncomfortable on her knees, now that she wasn’t distracted by
the reckless thrill of an anticipated climax. Letting himself be led by his instincts once more,
he moved his hands around her hips and over her bundled skirt, even as he kept thrusting
his hips against hers, with his indomitable erection still buried deep inside her. He found
the hem of her blouse, and slipped his hands beneath it, so that his fingertips brushed the
smooth warm skin of her belly, feeling it quivering with the pulses that he was sending
through her body from behind.
Then, leaning further forwards, his hands found Marcie’s breasts, still held in the silky
fabric of her bra. He cupped their heavy soft masses in his big palms, feeling the way that
they too shook and bounced in reaction to his pounding hips. That distant part of his mind
that could still hold rational thought wished then that they’d given themselves more time,
so that he could have enjoyed helping Marcie to remove her constraining bra. She might
have let him admire the heavy curves of her perfect breasts in the broad daylight, allowing
him to see all the lusciously exciting details of the skin around her nipples, and she might
even have encouraged him to kiss them and suckle her under the open sky. If she had, he
might be touching the delicate skin of her breasts directly now, feeling the proudly erect
peaks of her nipples under his fingertips. Thinking of her playful word for them, he
imagined reaching for her sensitive boobies as they hung down low, swinging heavily,
rather than merely clasping their warm weight in the smooth satin that held them as he
was now.
But even so, the weight of Marcie’s supremely feminine breasts in his hands, filling his grip
as he penetrated her in this driving animalistic way, was enough to tip him over the edge.
He gasped and sucked air down as he felt a hot trickle ease its way up from the root of his
shaft, rising through his penis to leak into Marcie’s cwm. A much stronger pulse
immediately followed, surging from him, making his scalp tingle and his entire body
tremble. Then the supremely satisfying waves of his own orgasm finally flowed over him,
as if his life essence were flushing out into his lover’s womb. “Oh Marcie!” was all he could
utter as the jerking spasms overwhelmed him, driving him to thrust mindlessly, just as
firmly and hard in her as he possibly could, letting his penis flood the uttermost depths of
her warmly welcoming vagina with its life-giving seed, pumping it deep into her life-
quickening belly.
As the pulses of his ejaculation faded away, the motion of Ben’s hips against Marcie’s
naturally slowed to a stop. He felt profoundly contented exhaustion descend upon him as
he drew his hands back to her thighs and he stretched his back upright. He was panting
heavily and his heart was still pounding, but he felt wonderful, euphoric, even whilst he
heard Marcie still breathing heavily beneath him. But he was aware that her knees may be
aching painfully by now, pressed against the old hard wood through the thin blanket, so he
didn’t hesitate to grasp the condom around the base of his penis and withdraw himself
from her body. He heard his heavy penis slip out of her with what seemed almost to be an
appreciative lip-smacking slurp, then he sunk down onto the blanket himself, putting his
shoulder down by Marcie’s elbow as he curled his legs awkwardly around her feet.
Marcie immediately rolled onto her side too, facing him with wide eyes, pink cheeks and a
huge grin, even as she wriggled her legs and arms around amongst his. As she squirmed
about, tugging her skirt down a little, Ben managed to keep his hand on her smooth bare
thigh, and keep his gooey condom-wrapped penis away from her clothes too. It seemed as if
she were simultaneously trying to stretch out in the small space that they had, to rub down
the sore pressure points on her knees, and to cuddle up to him, all at once. Ben didn’t mind
her knocking against him though, as he lay in a cloud of blissful ecstasy, content to be
jumbled up with her.
As she rubbed her smooth inner thigh against his rough legs and took his head in her hand,
she asked a little anxiously, “How’s your breathing? Were you okay with that?”
“It’s fine,” Ben reassured her, taking a deep and steady breath as if to prove his point.
Though his heart had been working hard, he felt just as calm and in control as he had after
his prolonged session on the running machine. Yet the warm glow of his own sexual
gratification, coupled with the awareness that Marcie had enjoyed herself too, brought a
sense of deep satisfaction that went far beyond mere physical exercise. His curiosity about
her own experience prompted him to ask, “But that really worked for you then?”
“Holy Mary, yes!” Marcie agreed, cuddling up against him, “It’s never felt like that before. I
don’t know if it was that position, the way that you could slip in and press just the right
place, or if it was all because of you - your physical size or, as I’d rather like to think,
something about how I feel with you deeper inside, how much I’m into you. Or perhaps it
was us being outside, feeling naughty yet somehow elated too, literally and even spiritually,
having nature all around us and the sky over us. Maybe it was a bit of all of those, taking me
right up to the brink of the waterfall, then over the edge and down into the tumbling surge
pool of the big O, gasping for air, not knowing which way was up! I honestly didn’t know I
could come like that, without any of that fluttery clitoral play. But it was great, epic!”
Ben planted a brief kiss on her lips, then said, “I’m glad. I felt elated too, really, like we’d
made it something magical, like our making love was a rite, truly a spiritual thing. We were
celebrating spring, as a part of nature. I felt like an animal. You were a goddess, no, the
goddess’s chosen, the priestess. But I was a beast, a brute masculine force, and you’d let me
come to you as that.”
Marcie giggled as his confused explanation of his feelings ran down, then she stroked the
side of his head tenderly, “You are my beast, my virile lion. I felt your power. And heard you!
You were making those intense huffing sounds. It was like a belling stag right behind me, if
that’s the correct word. I could tell you were really into it, into making love to me, and that
only made it more exciting. I couldn’t let you stop, even if my knees were getting a bit
painful.”
“I’m sorry. I thought they might be, just on this blanket,” Ben admitted, “And I’m sorry
about the noises. I didn’t know I was making them.”
“Don’t be draft!” she laughed, touching her lips to his forehead, “You can make those noises
with me any day off the week, as well as doing all those other things - letting me ride you
like a cowgirl, and suck your sweet cream too. And burying your face between my thighs, I
definitely want more of that! But what we just did, Holy Mary! Vixen will be turning to
liquid if I just think about how you took me up here for weeks, for years to come! Anyway, a
bit of a rub will bring the life back to my knees. And I should be apologising for what comes
out of my mouth in the heat of the moment too. I said mummy, didn’t I? I really am so sorry.
Afterwards I feel so embarrassed about some of the things that pop out.”
“Don’t be, and don’t apologise,” Ben reassured her, cuddling up to her awkwardly on the
small hard platform, “We’ve talked about this. We’re swimming in nature’s deep currents
of life now. When I come, I do imagine my seed filling you, fertilising your magical womb’s
precious egg. And we’re okay with that idea. You’re taking the baton from my mother,
becoming mother to my child in time.”
As soon as he said this though, Ben realised he’d gone further than they had before in the
way that they’d been speaking about such things. He thought that when they’d mentioned
nature’s forces before, it had been just playful theoretical speculation. However he was
acutely aware that what he had just said sounded as if he were genuinely thinking of
starting a family with Marcie.
Ben glanced anxiously into Marcie’s eyes, and she may have seen his stricken look as she
gave him a quizzical look of her own. “I don’t mean now,” he tried to hastily explain. “That
wasn’t my plan, by asking you to be my girlfriend. I wasn’t looking for someone to have my
baby. I just meant in theory, in principle, at least for the time being.”
Marcie smiled warmly at him, “Don’t worry so much. I’m the one who lets her mouth slip. I
know you’re not actually broody, and I think you know I’m not either, not when there’s a
PhD thesis to write and the alluring promise of postdoc research positions to apply for! Any,
if I remember, I think I was the one who sort of asked you to be my boyfriend, by walking
into your room when you had no clothes on and dragging you into my bed. A man might be
worried the woman was looking for someone to give her a baby in those circumstances, but
you can trust me when I say I don’t want to get pregnant now.”
“I trust you,” Ben reassured her.
“I know,” Marcie said in a kindly way, “But I know you have good intuition too. I think that
somewhere deep down, a part of you is already seeing me as that next link in the chain. We
are being carried by Mother Nature’s will - through our bodies, when you feel that pressure
in your penis and my secret cwm melts to be filled, and through our hearts too, in the
profound love that we’ve kindled. But her plan works for the bigger picture, and in the
wider story of our lives, we’re mere twists in the cord that runs from our ancestors into the
future. That’s the truth of it, that your living body recognises there’s hope for life’s
continuance in my living body, deep in the fecund cauldron of my womb, even if that’s not
fertilised today. And Ben, you must know, I am completely at ease with those ideas. I am
very happy to imagine that one day I might have your baby, even though it’s just in
principle for now as you say. Also family must be especially on your mind by being here
right now, coming back to your childhood home and seeing your dad, talking about your
mum, and thinking of seeing your other relations soon.”
“Aye, you’re right,” Ben agreed, smiling, feeling his profound love for Marcie as a glowing
warmth within him at that moment. He brushed her lips with his, saying, “That’s how it
works, doesn’t it? Our real love, it’s in our blood now. But speaking of those relations, we’d
better be getting back, hadn’t we?”
“Hmm, you’re right,” Marcie agreed with a sigh as she wriggled against him once again,
saying, “Oh, I wish this moment would last forever! We’ll cherish the memory, won’t we?
My first time outside, our initiation in the bosom of nature, our private rite of spring, borne
aloft in the arms of this magnificent tree!”
“Aye, well it’s a first for me too, like I said. It’s never been like this with anyone else, you
know that don’t you? And like Dad said, you’re the first to meet the family, since Phoebe,”
Ben said, a little guiltily, rolling away slightly so that he could attend to tidying up the limp
condom. He’d already put his hand down to start slipping it off his shrunken penis, sliding
as much of his sticky ejaculate into it as he could, ready to tie a knot in it.
“Well, if we’re meeting the relations, you’d better pop your trousers back on,” Marcie
teased, looking and what he was doing and rubbing his chest vigorously and playfully with
her knuckles, “And I’d be grateful if you hand my knickers back. It wouldn’t do to meet
your grandmother with a breeze cooling my damp undercarriage!”
Ben laughed as he disentangled himself and shuffled around to recover his jeans, pulling
Marcie’s soft underwear from the pocket to pass to her. As he wriggled into his boxer
shorts and then, more awkwardly, into his jeans, he reflected on Marcie’s earlier words,
“About this tree, do you know where the farm’s name comes from?”
“Askholm? No,” Marcie admitted, wriggling into her knickers too, “It sounds like I’m asking
if I can call the farm my home.”
“Well, I’m sure Dad would say you can,” Ben said, smiling, then explained, “But it’s from
Norse, for like, ash tree hill, I think. Ash only lives for two to three hundred years, but this
one could be a direct descendent of the original, the great tree that some Viking settler
noticed, putting this place on their map.”
“So this place might actually have been called Ashleigh instead, if those settlers had been
more Anglo Saxon. Are you sure you picked the right girl to bring up here and celebrate the
rite of spring with?” Marcie asked with a wry smile as she rose carefully to her feet.
“Hey, don’t tease,” Ben said, now also standing up to put his arm around Marcie’s shoulder,
having stowed the used condom and its wrapper away in his pocket, “That’s still a deadly
serious secret.”
“Oh, I know, I’m sorry,” Marcie said, making an exaggerated downturned sympathetic face
before leaning up to peck his lips. Then she turned to the tree’s trunk and laid her hand on
its hard and deeply furrowed bark, saying, “Well, thank you, tree. I’m glad you’re here,
watching over Askholm Farm. I’m glad that Ben found you, to play up here when he was a
boy, and I’m especially glad that you let us play in your arms again today, copulating like
the pair of rude animals that we are.”
“Aye, thank you tree,” Ben echoed, smiling as he laid his hand over Marcie’s, pressing her
palm against the solid wood, overcoming a slight sense of foolishness to play along with her.
He took a deep breath, then let his unplanned words tumble out, “We’re grateful for your
life, for your strength, for the fresh air in your crown. You stand as sentinel for this place,
this reawakening land, firmly rooted in its fertile soil. As your spring sap rises, you’ve
inspired our love, letting us find new ways to express our passion, helping us see more of
our shared hopes. We’ve been in your care, and you’ll remain in our hearts.”
“That’s beautiful, Ben,” Marcie said, pulling her hand away and twisting around to hug him,
pushing her cheek against his chest. Ben heard the breeze rustle the new leaves of the
nearby birch, then felt a gust of air brush past them. He found he could easily imagine it as
the spirit of the ash tree, acknowledging their prayerful thanks. He gripped Marcie tightly
in his arms, but only briefly, as he knew their time here was up. Marcie may have read the
signs too, as she gave a reciprocal strong squeeze, then pulled away.
She became practical once again as she said, “So, let me slip your mum’s boots on, then you
can help me onto this ladder. Getting started seems like it will be the worst bit of climbing
down.”
Chapter 41
Stepping carefully, Ben passed Marcie’s borrowed wellingtons over, then began folding the
blanket as she slipped her handbag over her head and eased her feet into the boots. As he
slung the blanket over his shoulder and put his own boots on, he saw how she braced her
hand against the tree’s trunk for balance, using its upright strength casually now. Then she
moved cautiously to the edge of the platform, still gripping the trunk’s bark firmly,
confirming that they were ready to go down. Ben took her elbow and tried to reassure her
as she warily placed her feet onto the first rungs of the ladder.
Once safely back down at ground level, Ben and Marcie both gave a final pat to the tree
trunk with a silent knowing smile to each other, before picking up their jackets and starting
back. They made good progress through the small wood, then downhill along the edge of
the field back towards the farmhouse. They saw the aunts’ car as they crossed the farmyard
to put the blanket back in Marcie’s hatchback, but when they went through the back door,
there was no one in the kitchen.
As they took their wellingtons off and Marcie popped to the loo, Ben called out, “We’re
home!” He heard his dad’s voice from the living room, saying they were in there. Ben
replied loudly to say they’d be through in a moment, wanting to wait for Marcie so that
they could go through together. He took the condom and its wrapper from his pocket,
wrapped it tightly in a piece of kitchen roll, then stuffed it down inside the kitchen rubbish,
out of sight. Marcie emerged from the downstairs toilet and then started lacing herself back
into her own boots, while Ben washed his hands in the kitchen sink, splashing a little water
on his face too, drying his hands on the tea-towel. Then with an encouraging smile as he
quietly confirmed she was ready, he took her hand and led her through to meet his
relations.
He saw his grandmother hunched up in the upright armchair, which his dad must have
pulled up close to the crackling and popping fire that was still only just catching in the grate.
Ginnie and Grace were in separate comfy chairs opposite each other, but they sprang to
their feet when he and Marcie came into the room, whilst his dad was already hovering by
the door. “Granny, Gracie, Ginnie love, this is our Ben’s Marcie,” he said with a beaming
grin as he ushered them into the room, then provided the complementary introduction,
“Marcie love, this is my sister Grace, her friend Ginnie and my mother Pat. No, don’t get up
Granny, I’m sure Ben and Marcie will come to you.”
His mother had indeed made as if trying to rise from her chair, fumbling for her sticks that
were tucked alongside her, but then she settled back with a sigh. Ginnie was the first to say
how delighted she was to meet Marcie, opening her arms to give her a kiss, easily
negotiating Marcie’s Mediterranean habit as she went for each cheek in turn. Ben greeted
Auntie Grace with one peck to the cheek, as usual, then they swapped places, before Ben
leaned down to kiss his grandmother, and then Marcie followed his example with the
fragile-seeming old woman. Granny Pat clutched Marcie’s cheeks before she could pull
away though, saying, “Oh, aren’t you just the most beautiful sun-kissed creature! Welcome
to Askholm, my dear. I’m just sorry you’re too late to catch our Daisy.”
“Oh, Granny, don’t. You’ll scare the poor girl off,” Grace said firmly.
“I hope not,” Dave said frankly as he gestured for everyone to sit down again, falling back
into a tatty old recliner himself. Then he asked, “Granny and your aunts only just got here
Son, so you’ve not missed out. But did you young ones enjoy your walk? I’d say it certainly
seems to have done you good. You’re both positively glowing! Maybe that Ashleigh is onto
something with her glamourous camping ideas. I was telling them about that scheme of
Naomi and Tom’s daughter, Granny. You city-folk need to get out into the countryside to
get some colour in your cheeks!”
“Aye, well I guess we had a brisk walk,” Ben said carefully, trying not to catch Marcie’s eye,
but he admitted, “We found that old crow’s nest, up in the big ash tree, on the south edge of
the copse. Do you remember putting it up there, Dad?”
“Aye, I remember,” his dad said thoughtfully, “You’d worry Mum and me sick with your
tree climbing. I hoped you’d be safer with a ladder and somewhere firm to park your
behind. But it didn’t work out that way, did it?”
“Oh, is that the one you fell from?” his grandmother spoke up, “He broke his arm, Marcie
dear. You gave us quite a fright. That naughty old tree. I hope you’ve made your peace with
him since, and thought kindly of him today, after all the trouble you’ve had, my poor thing.”
“Aye, Marcie and I will both remember it now. It’s a special tree.”
“You need to know you have a safe haven here,” Granny Pat went on, “Both of you. You’re
under the care of the Holy Spirit and the ash, as well as my David and Gracie.”
“You’re sounding a bit daft again, Granny,” Grace cautioned.
“No, it’s okay. I know what you mean, Granny, and I think Marcie does too,” Ben said,
“We’re glad we could come down. We’ve talked about the power of nature, and it does feel
like it’s a healing force, after all the mad stuff this week. And Dad put on a proper spread
for lunch.”
“Come here, love. Let me get a proper look at you,” Pat said in a kindly way, and Ben
dutifully stood up and went to her chair. She grasped his big paw in the hook of her delicate
arthritic hand as he loomed over her. He could feel her warm papery skin as she tried to
grip him, then she said, “Yes, it’s clear. You’re a grown man now. You’ve had an awful
shock, with the bad news about your lungs and your job, and a cruel blow with the fire. But
you still feel blessed, don’t you?”
Ben wondered at her insight as she gestured to Marcie with her other hand almost
impatiently, “Come here too, dear.” Ben smiled apologetically to Marcie, but she seemed
very happy to approach the old matriarch, letting her fold her other failing hand around
Marcie’s. “Oh, you’re both so full of life, aren’t you? I can feel it coursing through you so
powerfully, the inner fire of love that’s caught strong and true! If you both tend that love
carefully it will last you your whole lifetimes, you know, and beyond. That’s your real news,
that’s what you wanted to share, isn’t it Ben love? It’s not about your troubles, it’s about
what you’ve found.”
“Aye, that’s the real news, Granny,” looking shyly at Marcie, “I’ve had a couple of nasty
surprises, and I’ve lost some things, but I’ve found Marcie, and that’s what really matters.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you standing like a pair of mooncalves!” Pat said, dropping their
hands unceremoniously, “Sit down Marcie dear, while the boys get some tea for us.”
Ben caught Marcie’s eye to give her a querying look, thinking she might feel a bit anxious
about being left with his strange relatives, but she smiled and made a tiny gesture as if to
shoo him away. So he took his cue, saying, “Aye, come on Dad. Let’s get the kettle on.”
When they’d got into the kitchen and the noise of the kettle had started rising, Dave asked
subtly, “Will Marcie be alright on her own in there, with the Coven? Granny does come on a
bit strange sometimes.”
“Aye, she’s brave, and strong enough to stand up for herself. I’ve seen that,” Ben reassured
him, smiling at his dad’s word for the three older women. He paused just for a moment,
thinking of what his grandmother had said, then went on with what he knew he wanted to
say, “Dad, I should tell you. It’s important, to me. I think she’s the one, Dad, I really do. Like
Granny said, I think we’ve started something powerful and true. It seems crazy, how
quickly it’s happened. But we both honestly think this is the real thing, Dad. So that really is
the news, like Granny said. I think I’ve found my other half, the love of my life.”
“Aye, and I think I’ve seen that, or suspected something like it,” his dad said in a thoughtful
way, fiddling with the teapot, then went on, “So what does that mean? Does your
generation still think about marriage? Or do you think you might just start a family,
sometime when things are a bit more settled?”
“Well, both, I guess,” Ben admitted, glad to be bringing these ideas into the open, “That’s
what getting married means, doesn’t it? Saying to the world that you’re going to stick
together, that you’ve chosen each other as life partners. And having kids, well, Marcie’s got
to finish her PhD, and maybe start her proper career, and I’ve got to get settled in a new job
too, but we do both know that might be on the cards, somewhere down the line. If she’s got
a good career by then, maybe I’d be the one who’d stay at home with the baby. Who
knows?”
“Well, that all sounds good Son. I’m really happy for you. But don’t rush at things for me, or
your Granny’s sake,” Dave said, finding mugs and a tray.
“No, it wouldn’t be for the family, because of what you, or Marcie’s Nanna, or her mum
Vera expect,” Ben explained, getting the sugar and a jug for the milk, “It would be a rush,
but I think we know it’s just what’s the honest truth. So I guess what I’m saying is, I want
to propose to Marcie, and I’m asking if you think that’s okay, even though I didn’t know her
this time last week.”
His dad gave a surprised laugh, then said, keeping his voice deliberately low as he grinned
with wry amusement, “Didn’t know her? I knew you’d only just become her girlfriend this
week, but I didn’t realise she wasn’t even a friend before that!”
“Aye, we were strangers, when I collapsed in the gym. It’s like we were thrown together.
She held my hand in the ambulance. We talked, we fell in love. I guess that’s it, that’s the
story,” Ben admitted, “Do you think I’m daft then, to think of proposing, of making that
commitment already? It’s just,” he paused, but decided to plough on, “Well, after my scare
and hospital trip, Marcie said it made life seem so much more fragile, as if it’s too short to
waste. I feel I know what she means too, and that’s maybe why it’s happening so fast for
us.”
“Aye, life can be fragile,” Dave reflected sadly, then said decisively, “So no, I don’t think
you’re daft, and I can’t tell you what should or shouldn’t do anyway. I imagine you know
your own mind, and what your hearts are telling you both,” then he paused by the kettle,
staring into space, before admitting as he filled the teapot, “It seems like a very long time
ago now, but I think I knew with Mum straight away. We met at a Young Farmer’s thing, as
you know. She caught my eye, so we talked and we made each other laugh, and then like
you two, we just fell in love, pretty much straight away as well as I remember it. There was
a lot more careful to and fro in those days, and we were younger than you are now. I was
very intimidated by Grandad Ron too, if you can believe it! Well, it must have taken me a
year and a half at least before I popped the question. But that doesn’t mean you have to do
the same. I never regretted it, once we’d tied the knot. Perhaps it would have been better to
have not wasted the time to get there. Maybe just give it a little longer though Son, until
things have settled down a bit. Like you said, it’s been a mad week for you.”
“Aye, you’re right,” Ben agreed, “Thank you. It is a bit sad though, isn’t it? Like Granny said,
I found Marcie too late for Mum to meet her.”
“Aye, it is sad,” Dave said, stepping around the table to grip his son’s shoulder, “She’d have
been so happy for you. Life’s cruel sometimes, like with your lungs and your fire.” Then he
released his son as he thought of something, “Did you lose photographs in the fire too?
Check the albums before you go. Take a photo of Mum to share with Marcie if you want.”
“Thanks Dad, that’s a nice idea,” Ben said as his dad moved around to finally get all the tea
things organised. Then a thought occurred to him, “But what about a ring? Would it be nice
if I proposed to Marcie with Mum’s engagement ring, like it was being passed down?”
“I’m not sure, Son,” his dad said seriously after a thoughtful pause, “It’s all yours or Adam’s
at the end of the day, of course, to do with as you want, and I’m not trying to hoard stuff.
But maybe Marcie would like something you’ve chosen for her, that’s special just for the
two of you. Would you need a bit of help to splash out for a nice one though? If you’re
anxious about what you’ve got coming in now, I could write you a cheque. Bobbins! I
should have thought of that sooner. I’ll write you a cheque anyway, so you don’t have to
wait on your insurance money before you can restock your wardrobe and your lost things.
It’s almost your birthday. We’ll make it a nice big early present.”
“Thanks Dad,” Ben said again, “But you don’t need to. I’ve got savings.”
“Nonsense! I’ll write one out before you go. Oh, and I found your old Lego in the box room
too. I put it in the dining room for you to take with you. It might keep you in with your
neighbours, if you can entertain their boys with it, doing a bit of childcare. And who knows,
there might be another little pair of hands to play with it in a few years’ time,” Dave said in
a low voice as they carried the tea through to the living room.
“That took a while. We’re spitting feathers in here, Dave” Grace said acerbically as Ben and
his dad rejoined the party.
“Sorry, that was my fault,” Ben admitted, “We got talking, well, about lots of things.”
“Oh ignore the barren old maid, Ben love,” Granny Pat said, rather cruelly Ben thought,
“We’ve been having a lovely time in here, getting to know Marcie, telling her what a
vigorous boy you were when you were growing up, and hearing a bit about the adventures
that you two have had already.”
Ben shot an anxious glance towards Marcie, hoping that they hadn’t been grilling her too
rigorously, but she was smiling happily at him. Grace wasn’t going to let her mother have
the last word though, as she shot back, “I’ve helped to raise thousands of children and
young adults, as well you know Granny. Just because I’ve not squeezed any out myself, it
doesn’t make me less a woman.”
Ben thought he saw Marcie catch his dad’s look when he made an exaggerated eye-rolling
expression at this, as she gave a sly smirk, obviously recognising this old routine for what it
was. “Nonsense, child. You had it easy, just teaching the seniors their maths. Ginnie here is
the one who did the real work, supporting all the waifs and strays who drifted through her
little primary school. They’re still wild savages at that age, aren’t they Ginnie dear? Wailing
and fighting, making puddles and making your heart melt with their sticky antics.”
“Yes, Marcie was asking about our jobs, or Gracie’s old job, now that she’s stepped back to
enjoy her gardening more,” Ginnie explained, perhaps stepping in to bring the conversation
back to a more polite and civilised footing, “And we were just talking about children’s
books. She said you had a few that you’d kept, which she was very glad you’d taken over to
your new home before the fire. And she said you’ve both been looking at the wonderful
Narnia stories again. They are magical, aren’t they? Even coming back to them as an adult,
you feel transported to a special place.”
“Aye, that’s exactly what I’ve found,” Ben agreed as he sat down and Dave began pouring
the teas then passing them around. He was relieved that the conversation they’d had while
he’d been away had seemingly been about such innocent things, and not about other
adventures that Marcie might have been able to tell them about. He admitted, “I didn’t
know them. You remember I wasn’t much of a reader. Well, Marcie’s helping, and we’ve
just been reading and talking about The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe together.”
“Ginnie was telling me that Lewis also wrote about medieval allegorical work, in which
you’d get characters who were simply called things like Despair, Ignorance or Friendship,”
Marcie chipped in enthusiastically, “It made me wonder if each of the Pevensie children
stood for simple ideas like that.”
“And I thought they probably could, but they also seem richer than that,” Ginnie said,
adding, “It’s made me want to go back and read them again too.”
“I still remember one scene well,” Grace said, seemingly mollified by her tea, or by Ginnie
and Marcie’s warm enthusiasm, “Lucy and Susan walk through the woods with the lion on
the way to his sacrificial altar.”
“Ooh, don’t give too much away please,” Marcie said urgently, “Ben hasn’t got to that bit
yet.”
Grace nodded towards her respectfully, then went on with an indulgent smile towards Ben,
“Well, it’s a very sad and tender moment. But the girls end up having to help themselves,
that was the point for me. The lion was a fine creature, to be sure, but when all the bluster
and fury has passed, they’re just left to find comfort in each other’s arms.”
“I know what you mean, Gracie, and that’s our way. But I’m not sure everyone would have
read it like that,” Ginnie said in a tender way, and at that moment Ben felt that he saw
something that he’d not noticed before passing between his aunts. He realised that he’d
perhaps taken their companionship for granted, as if they were indivisible. But in that
simple insight, he thought perhaps he’d caught a glimpse of the kind of support that they
gave each other. He recalled his grandmother’s words to himself and Marcie about tending
the fire of the love, and wondered if this was a glimpse of how it looked after decades of
attention, but from the left-handed perspective rather than the right as it were.
“It’s nice to hear that you were both into the stories,” Marcie said sincerely, adding, “I’d
imagine they were still relatively new when you first read them.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Ginnie mused, “I’m old enough to remember the rationing on sweets
ending, and I think the books talk about a kind of nostalgia for the treats that the children
can’t have. I must have been able to sympathise with that back then.”
“I remember hearing the man on the radio,” Pat piped up, “I’m sorry to say it, but he
seemed a rather pompous and dried up old stick. His creed seemed rather lacking in the
magic of creation’s natural fertile growth, as if God’s love were also a dry and scholarly
thing. But God’s love is wet, isn’t it? It’s the rain, bringing life to the land. From the very
beginning, the Spirit moved on the face of the waters of creation. And we each make God’s
love, don’t we Marcie dear? It’s in our kisses, and then in our bellies, if that’s His will,
nourishing our soggy babies, mewling and helpless in our arms. But then look what great
big things they turn into!”
“I’ve lost two stone since I stopped drinking, actually,” Grace said a little peevishly, making
Ginnie laugh.
“But you’ll take care, won’t you Marcie dear?” Pat went on, “Have fun while you both can,
and don’t rush into things. Ben’s grandfather and I didn’t find French Letters until after
these two turned up. But a little pill is so much more convenient.”
“Granny! You really do go too far sometimes,” Grace said with exaggerated shock in her
voice, and Ben saw his dad looking at the ground in his awkwardness. But Marcie and
Ginnie were both smirking, he noticed.
It was Marcie who calmly guided the conversation back into safer waters, saying, “Yes, we
are a lucky generation, with so much choice and freedom. And I think perhaps we find it
easier to talk openly and honestly about that practical side of romantic love too. But we still
need the wisdom and guidance of the older generations, yours Pat, and your children’s. It
has been wonderful to meet you all. I really appreciate the warmth and support you’ve
shown Ben and myself.”
“Yes, speaking of support, you have a birthday coming up, don’t you Ben love?” Pat said
eagerly, “Had we better make it a bit of a special one if you need to replace the things
you’ve lost, or to give you a little help to get back to college and learn a new trade?”
“Don’t worry, Granny,” Ben said, “There’s money coming for things like that, from my
insurance and the compensation, and Dad’s already said he’ll help.”
“Something for your new home then? A nice set of tableware maybe?” Pat persisted.
“They’re not starting a wedding list yet, Granny,” Grace scoffed, stepping up to her role as
her mother’s censor once again.
“No, not yet,” Ben said, feeling a little embarrassed, thinking of the conversation he’d just
had with his dad.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something nice for the flat though, won’t you love?” Marcie said,
coming to his rescue, “You can have a think then talk it through on the phone later. It’s still
a few weeks off.”
“Yes, you do that Son,” my dad, “But did you want to look at the albums before you head off?
We thought it might be nice for you to take a photo of Mum back to your flat, Marcie love.”
Dave ended up pulling out several photo albums, which got passed around for everyone to
look at. Ben realised that this could open out into a very long session, in which his whole
childhood was reviewed from every angle, along with the complex web of wider family
relations, friends and neighbours. He deliberately tried to close that possibility down, as he
spotted his parent’s wedding album and said, “Maybe there’s one of the just the two of you,
from the day you got married Dad. That would be nice. We’d just borrow it, to take to one
of those photo shops. They do quality copies direct from photos now. You don’t need the
negatives.”
Ginnie said that sounded like a very sensible idea, perhaps realising herself what was
starting to happen and why he’d suggested it. So his dad pulled out the special album and
passed it to Ginnie, who paged through it carefully whilst Marcie watched over her
shoulder, perched on the edge of her chair.
“Is that you and Grace? You look so glamorous!” Marcie said, sincere in her flattery.
“Well, this was, what, 1967 Dave? We would both have been twenty-four, just out of our
postgraduate teacher training, and just out of the closet too I suppose. An exciting time all
round. But doesn’t Daisy look beautiful?”
“Yes, she does,” Marcie said seriously, “She looks like Eostre herself, the goddess of spring.
Perhaps that’s the photo. Do you want to have a look, love? Would that be okay to have in a
frame on the metaphorical mantlepiece?”
Ben rose to his feet and moved around behind her and Ginnie to see the classically posed
black and white wedding photo. He thought his mum looked so young in it, yet her face was
shining with happiness beneath the flower crown that she’d had for the day, the curls of
her fair hair, which she must also have had done especially, falling around her face. He said,
“Aye, that’s a lovely photo. Is it okay Dad, if we just borrow it, until we’re down again? And
you’re right, Marcie. She’s like the May Queen, isn’t she?”
“Aye, I remember,” Dave said nostalgically, “You know she wasn’t keen on her name,
saying it would have been better for one of the cows. But she was as fresh and beautiful as
the most perfect spring flower. The wedding was in June, mind. Midsummer’s Eve, a time
for magic.”
“‘Consider the lilies of the field,’” Pat spontaneously quoted, holding a raised finger
towards Marcie, “‘Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’ Oh, she was
the fair lily then, just as you are the dusky damask rose now dear, beautiful by nature.”
“That’s enough sermonising, Granny,” Gracie said patiently.
“Aye, you two need to get off, don’t you Ben, Marcie love? You’ve got a long drive,” Dave
said, firmly patting his legs with his big hands before rising from his chair, “You take that
photo, pick up those boxes from the dining room too, and I’ll get that cheque written.”
He inspired everyone to begin bustling about as the albums were laid aside, the aunts
wondered if they should get away too, and Ben argued politely with his father about there
being no need for the cheque, whilst the older man stubbornly insisted that he wanted to
help. Ben ended up taking the Lego and the precious photo out to the car while Marcie hung
back, then he went back inside to say goodbye to his grandmother with Marcie, kissing her
cheek as she remained hunched close to the fire. She did her best to grip his hand before he
departed, gesturing for Marcie to hold her other as they had before again, saying, “Look
after each other, Ben love. Be kind with yourselves, cherish your blossoming love. You’re a
beautiful couple. God bless you both.”
His aunts followed them out to the car with Dave to see them off. They all hugged each
other goodbye, Marcie making her kisses on both cheeks for all three, saying again how
nice it had been to meet them, and how welcome they’d made her feel. Then Ben was
driving Marcie away, both waving their arms in parting from the little car’s open windows.
Chapter 42
Once they’d cleared the farm’s long driveway and got onto the country lane that would
take them back towards the A road and the motorway, Ben asked Marcie anxiously, “Was
that all right? Granny was coming on a bit strong, wasn’t she?”
“She was lovely,” Marcie said happily, “I wasn’t bothered at all by her church stuff. She
reminded me of my Nanna, perhaps with a bit more of a Church of England countryside
spin. But your aunts were lovely too, just like your dad was. I really did feel very welcome,
as if I was a part of the family already.” She paused for a moment, and then said in a
deliberate tone of voice, “And that’s the thing, isn’t it? They all think we’re going to get
married already.”
“Aye,” Ben said carefully, aware of what he’d said to his dad, “Maybe it’s a country thing
too, like they’re still a bit traditional. We might have thought that it was moving in together
that was the big milestone, but they’re maybe just assuming that we would be ready to get
engaged, if we’d made that step.”
“And are we, do you think?” Marcie asked bluntly.
“After what we’ve been talking about, what we said in the ash tree especially? I think we
agreed, we’re already doing Mother Nature’s work, braiding the cord of life through the
generations. Marriage is the public way of demonstrating that, isn’t it? Listening to Dad
talking about Mum, and seeing Grace and Ginnie together too, seeing how they’ve made it
work their way, it feels as if we’ve just made it all more tangible.”
“Yes, your aunts are a strong couple, aren’t they?” Marcie observed, “When we talked, with
you out of the room getting the tea with your dad, I could see how Ginnie supports Grace,
and also how Grace maybe in some sense completes her. It’s a shame they couldn’t get
married officially. I guess it may have been hard for them, especially if your Granny’s
Christian faith is quite strong.”
“No, as I understand it, Granny was always just fine with it,” Ben recalled as he drove, “I
don’t remember Grandpa that well, but from what Dad’s told me, she had to work at
persuading him back then, explaining it was just the way Grace was. She did fall out badly
with the vicar over it, I think, but I guess she was confident enough in her faith, stubbornly
turning up in church every Sunday despite the old duffer. I can easily imagine her glaring
him down, while he was droning on in his pulpit, then maybe over coffee, reminding him
time and again that God is love. But we were talking about us, weren’t we? So, do you really
think we’re ready to get engaged?”
Ben felt quite anxious about Marcie’s response, having steeled himself to ask the question
directly. She seemed to give it careful thought, taking a deep breath before she replied, “Oh
Ben, yes, I really do. I really do think that’s where we are already as a couple. I truly believe
that we are both ready and willing to make a lifelong commitment, as adults with our eyes
open to everything that means, even though it’s been so quick. But maybe we don’t need to
make that step official just yet. It’s been such a mad week, for you more than me. We
should give time for things to settle down, to see what normal looks like for us maybe, then
decide. Does that sound okay?”
“Aye, that sounds just fine,” Ben agreed happily. He felt he had to be honest with Marcie
though, so he explained, “I admit, that’s pretty much what I said to Dad. I’m sorry, I wasn’t
trying to go behind your back, but we talked about it in the kitchen, when we were making
tea. I just wanted to know what he’d think, if he’d be okay. I wanted to know if I’d be
risking falling out with him, I guess, if you and I took that step so soon, if he’d then think it
was reckless and foolish. He maybe seems a bit lonely sometimes, without Mum, with his
sons away. I didn’t want to think I’d be pushing him away. There’s no chance of that, it
seems. He’s happy for us, genuinely, I think. It’s like we reminded him of falling in love with
Mum. But he said he wouldn’t try to tell me what to do, saying the two of us should follow
our hearts, I think.”
“Aw, that’s very touching. And it was very kind of you to think of not leaving him lonely,
Ben,” Marcie said in a tender way, reaching over to squeeze his knee, “But don’t worry. It
doesn’t feel like you were going behind my back. We have sort of been talking about this
already, haven’t we? You were right to seize the chance to talk to your dad. Maybe we’ll
persuade him to come up to Newcastle soon to see our new shared home too.”
“Aye, that sounds good,” Ben agreed, before going back to her answer to his original
question, “I’m really happy that you agree we’re ready, that we’re looking at a lifelong love
with our eyes open. I was worried, like I was after that dream, that I’d lost you, or risked
losing you, with my stupid words outside the gym. Like I said, it felt worse than the fire.”
“Oh Ben, remember our smooches and cuddles since then! Remember how badly I wanted
you, how eager you were to consume me,” Marcie said, briefly lifting her hand to brush his
cheek as Ben diligently focused on the road. She went on, “I see it the other way around, in
a way. We’re not talking about making the public commitment of our love by getting
married despite that little row, we can talk about it now because of it. What you said in the
moment, and the awful way that I treated you, it’s all been washed away now. We kissed
and made up, big time. And I think that’s the real lesson for us. We’ll row again I’m sure,
sadly, but when the moment’s past, we’ll both want to come back together again, to heal
any hurt we’ve caused, then reforge our love in those trusty inner fires you and your
grandmother both talk about. We know now that we’ll end up returning to our deep
affection for each other, to the union that supports us both, right?”
“You’re right,” Ben agreed thoughtfully, turning briefly to smile into her earnest big brown
eyes. He drove in silence for a while, then remembered what else Marcie had mentioned,
“So, when you were all talking without Dad and me, you said you saw how my aunts
supported each other. So what came up? I’d thought you’d just spoken about books, but
maybe I shouldn’t ask.”
Marcie gave a light chuckle before she began filling him in, “It did get a bit more personal
than that, but I needn’t keep it secret from you. It actually got dangerously risqué almost as
soon as you’d left, when that Ashleigh came up again. Because your dad had mentioned her,
Pat had to ask if she had been your girlfriend or Adam’s. Grace reminded her firmly that
she’d been with your older brother as she was so much closer to his age, but then Ginnie
remembered that you’d seemed to have a teen crush on her too. She must have been
talking about the very same lunch party that you told me about, when you had your secret
moment with Ashleigh and your first taste of sexual intimacy. Ginnie explained to me that
there had been this one time that Ash had come along to a family lunch when your brother
was away, and you had, ‘Made doe-eyes at her through the whole meal.’ She said it was
then that she knew you were heterosexual, though she didn’t put it like that. Maybe she’d
been a bit worried that as you hit puberty it would turn out that you were gay, like your
aunt, and she didn’t want you to go through the anxiety and strife that they’d presumably
experienced.”
“I’m amazed she remembered, after all these years,” Ben said, feeling a little worried
himself now. Maybe it really would be still awkward if he and Marcie ran into Ash again
now, with her husband and their kids.
“I’m afraid I probed a little,” Marcie admitted, and Ben glanced across to see her coquettish
expression. When he asked her to go on, she explained, “I asked if she remembered
whether you’d been brave enough to tell Ashleigh how you felt about her. Then Grace said
that she remembered the lunch party too, because she’d been embarrassed about her
drinking, and it had given her pause to reflect on whether she was happy in her life. She
reminded Ginnie that you and Ash had disappeared for a very long time to look at some
kittens. Then Ginnie completed the story, saying that when you’d come back, you’d both
looked quite flushed, almost as if ‘they’d had a little roll in the hay,’ to use her exact
words.”
“I never knew it had been so obvious,” Ben said, feeling deeply embarrassed and ashamed.
“Hey, don’t worry!” Marcie said brightly, “Your aunts clearly both thought it was sweet. I
felt they really didn’t care either way whether it was just a cuddle or something more
serious that had happened. They just wanted to tell me so that I’d know you’d always been
very kind and attentive towards your female friends. Your grandmother obviously agreed
with them, as I think she said, ‘He certainly applies himself well when it comes to meeting
his duties to the young ladies.’”
Ben felt a slight easing of his anxiety as he asked, “And was that all? You didn’t fill them in
on the details?”
“No! Again, don’t worry,” Marcie said, squeezing his knee again, “I’d never gab about
something you’d told me in confidence. And though even your grandmother seems to be
quite at ease with the idea that the two of us are already sexually active, I’d never have
gone into the genuine intimate details of our adventures with them, nor anyone else. As I
remember it, because your aunts had hinted already hinted at how well they knew what
teenagers were like, our chat simply drifted onto their school careers, and then children’s
books as you came in on us.”
“Well, I’ll have to keep reading your book now,” Ben said more lightly, “You didn’t say
there was an incestuous lesbian love scene in it.”
Marcie gave a shocked laugh as she admonished him with a light swipe to his shoulder,
saying, “Ben! It’s certainly not like that. It is a very tender moment in the book, and I
remember that when I read it, I wished I could have been there to give Lucy and Susan a
hug too.”
“Ah, but you’ve already told me,” he went on with a chuckle, “When you were teenager,
you were as happy kissing the girls as you were the boys. Maybe Ginnie recognised that,
and that’s why you got on so well. When I was making tea with Dad, you weren’t being a bit
flirty, were you?”
“Ben! Most certainly not,” Marcie snapped back with mock indignation, “I don’t know how
you could imagine such a thing. You’re turning into a worse tease than me!”
Ben laughed aloud, then reassured her that he thought she’d been utterly charming and
polite to all his family, remarking that she’d certainly seemed to overcome any
nervousness that she might have had.
“Hmm, well, you seemed to be making an effort too,” Marcie noted with a sly tone, “I didn’t
see you trying to pick your nose or grab your lunchbox once while you were with your
family.”
Ben laughed again, a little self-consciously, then admitted he had been trying to make an
effort, to notice and check his impulses so that he’d not embarrass Marcie with those
impolite tics. But they’d reached the motorway by now, and he was aware there was a long
slog ahead, so after a pause he said, “I’d better focus on the drive. Shall we put the CD back
on now? Maybe a tender scene is coming up there too, between Frodo and Sam.”
Marcie laughed, even as she denied there was anything like that at all in the story, then
pressed play. Ben found that despite the rather staged and self-conscious style of the
recording, the drama did help the long journey to pass quickly.
Their drive back was also uneventful, without any unexpected phone calls or stops this
time. The last few minutes through the quiet Sunday evening streets of Newcastle were
easy too, but Ben was still glad to finally reach the journey’s end as he reversed into a
parking space on Marcie’s road. Marcie thanked him for bringing them safely home as he
sheepishly took his childish box of bricks, following Marcie was she let them into the flat.
“Do you want to pop the kettle on while I bring the washing in?” she suggested, striding
through the flat in her boots while Ben slipped his own shoes off, “Then I’d better phone
my mum.”
“I forgot!” Ben said with sudden realisation, following her into the living room, “We’ve
been talking about my family, as if you’re already my fiancé, and your mum doesn’t even
know I exist!”
“It’s not a big deal, really,” Marcie insisted, “I’ve already said it won’t be major news to her,
compared to Mister Tiddles’ hairball problem.”
“Still, we should maybe put a date in to see her too soon,” he suggested, also asking her,
“Tea? Or wine maybe?”
“Tea for now, please,” she said as she stepped out of the back door. Then when she came
back in, Ben suggested he fold the laundry up and put it away while she made her phone
call, if she wanted to get it out of the way. He also asked if she’d had any thoughts on what
to eat for their tea, but she said she’d had such a big lunch that she’d be fine with just some
cheese and crackers, with an apple and a glass of wine maybe. Ben thought he might have
beans on toast, and volunteered to get it all ready for them once he’d put clean bedding and
so on away. Marcie agreed, but when Ben moved to take the laundry basket into the
bedroom, she suggested he stay, so he could hear how the conversation went with her
mother.
So he began diligently folding the sheets as Marcie took the phone to the sofa and dialled a
number from memory, starting to unlace her boots even before her mum had answered.
Then he listened, keeping himself busy, while Marcie spoke, “Hi Mum. How are you? Really?
Mum, I’ve got some news. I’ve got a new boyfriend. He’s called Ben, and we’re getting on
really well. Yes, we’re both taking it quite seriously. No, I met him at the gym actually. It’s a
bit of a funny story. Well, funny odd, not funny ha-ha. He collapsed while I was there, yes,
he just stepped off his running machine and slid to the floor, gasping for air. Anyway, I went
with him to the hospital. I wanted to help, Mum. Yes, he’s out, and doing well, but it’s quite
a serious condition, so he can’t go back to work. No, but he’s putting in a compensation
claim. He’s a tree surgeon. It’s okay, he’ll be safe now, he’s getting treatment. But he sadly
had some other bad news this week too. Well, there was a fire in his flat and he lost a lot of
his things. They burnt, Mum. No, he’s living with me now. Yes, we’re being careful. Yes, I
know, but you don’t need to worry, I’m a big grown-up girl. No, he’s a bit younger actually.
No, Richard’s completely out of the picture. Yes, he knows, but really there’s no way I’d
ever go back, believe me. Ben means so much more now. Yes, like I said, we are serious
about it. Well, he grew up in Lincolnshire on a dairy farm, but he lost his mum a few years
ago. Yes, it is sad, but I met his dad today actually, and he’s lovely too. We drove down, and
I met his grandmother and two of his aunts too. Yes, they were all very friendly and I felt
very welcome. Yes, it is serious. We really want to make a go of it. That’s right, he’s living
with me in the flat. No, we’re okay, it’s fine, it’s going very well actually. Yes, it is, it’s all
good. Well, he wants to meet you too. I have my diary and my library rota here so we can
make a date right now.”
Ben watched Marcie’s finger through Filofax as he now got on with laying things out for
their supper whilst she went on, “We could come over on Friday. Yes, this Friday. Well, the
week after then. What about Wednesday? Because that’s when I’m off shift for the whole
day. Okay, Sunday then, two weeks from today. Yes, I’m writing it down. Yes, for lunch. I’ll
bring something. No, he’s easy, but I’ll bring something anyway. I’d like to, and it will be
easier for you. Well, okay, but we’ll speak again before anyway. Yes, I’m fine, very well,
thanks to Ben. Yes, it has been a big week. How’s yours been? Yes, yes. Oh dear, no. Yes, I
remember. No, that’s a shame. No. Well that’s okay then. Look Mum, I’d better be going.
It’s been a big day and we’ve not had our tea yet. Ben and me. Yes, he’s in the flat now.
We’re together now, Mum. Yes, he’s living with me, that’s what I said. No, it’s all okay. I’m
very safe, and very happy. We’re both very happy together. Well, you’ll meet him in two
weeks’ time, won’t you? Did you write it down too? Lunchtime. It’s Osborne, he’s Ben
Osborne. No, you wouldn’t know him, but you will. Mum, I need to go now. All right. Bye-
bye. Yes, you take care too. Iva, Alla jbierek ukol. Saħħa. Bye.”
Marcie hung up, put the phone on the floor, then leaned back on the sofa and blew out a
long sigh of relief as she looked up at Ben with an exaggerated expression of weary
exhaustion. He smiled sympathetically as she invited him to sit next to her with a gesture,
saying, “Well, I guess you got the gist of that.”
“Aye, I think so,” Ben said, twisting to face her on the sofa and resting his hand on hers,
“She worked out you’re serious about me, but she’s a bit worried, thinking of you with a
strange man, who she doesn’t know. Also, she can’t fit us in for a lunchtime date next
week.”
“That’s it! That’s just it, isn’t it?” Marcie said with frustration, sitting up again and
gesturing with her hands, “She fusses and worries, but she puts off doing anything about it!
She’s not really busy on Friday, or any other day in the next fortnight. Yes, maybe she does
usually go to the shops on a Wednesday. But hey, here’s a crazy idea, why not go on
Tuesday instead so you can meet your only daughter’s new ‘serious’ boyfriend for the first
time? And what does ‘serious’ really mean anyway? She must have said it six times! But
what about love, or just affection and support and open trust and shared happiness?
Mother of God, what about just getting to the point and asking about pregnancy and safe
sex and weddings, or even mortgage payments, savings and earnings if that’s what was on
her mind? Why not come out and say those things? Your family managed it, and I was a
stranger to them this morning. I’m sorry, but Holy Mary, she winds me up.”
“That’s okay,” Ben said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tensed-up frame to
his chest. He kissed her cheek, just below her glasses, then said, “She’s stuck in her ways, I
guess. She’ll come around to the idea. She wants to be happy for you, I think. She was
asking about me, she was showing an interest, in what’s important to you, and she did
want to meet me, even if she was dithering about it.”
“Hey, don’t take her side,” Marcie said crossly, her hands pinching and fiddling at her skirt
in frustration, but Ben could tell she was already calming down. Then she looked at him,
furrowing her dark eyebrows to say, “Yes, and that was another thing! Why not just let me
bring something for lunch? She knows she’ll work herself up into a flap about getting
anything ready, and it will be awful even if she manages it. Why not just say, ‘Yes, Marcie,
that would be lovely. Why don’t you bring your lovely lasagne? We can pop it in the oven as
soon as you arrive, then we’ll all enjoy tucking into it half an hour later. It would be a real
weight off my mind.’ Oh, I’m so cross! I’ll have to ring her again each day as it gets close,
listening to her fuss, waiting until she agrees to let me help.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, holding her head tenderly, cupping his hand against the firmly
pinned hair behind her ear as he held her close.
“Oh, don’t be,” Marcie said, sighing, seemingly letting the tension drain from her as she did
so, “It’s my problem. I let her wind me up. Maybe it will all work out fine in two weeks’
time. Maybe she’ll even start taking a bit more interest in the world around her if she
thinks she’s got a prospective son-in-law who’s battling for his health, and for justice
regarding injuries to his body and property. And you’ve been busy making such a lovely
spread! Thank you,” she concluded, smiling again as she turned towards him and then
pressed her lips to his, just for a lingering sensitive moment.
Chapter 43
Ben had made an effort to lay the table out nicely for their modest meal while Marcie had
been speaking to Vera. There had only been plain cheddar cheese in the fridge, but he had
found jars of chutney and pickles, from his own old flat, which Marcie had recovered, as
well as ones she’d had already. He’d also put the crackers, fruit and butter out, along with
glasses of water and wineglasses, though these were empty for now. He’d made his toast
and warmed his beans in a pan on the stove too, bringing them both to the table in Marcie’s
toast rack and a nice bowl, just to give them the impression of being a little bit more
civilised. He’d also lit the candelabra that they’d used in the bathroom to complete the
refined dining experience.
“No problem,” Ben said, acknowledging Marcie’s thanks as he turned towards the table.
She took to opportunity to get up from the sofa and move over to the hi-fi to put some
music on, so Ben rose too, offering to pour them some wine. Marcie agreed, then held up a
dark CD case from the Cocteau Twins for his approval, though he had to admit he wasn’t
really familiar with them but trusted her judgement.
Once they’d dropped the blind, sat down and raised their glasses to say cheers whilst the
ethereal music began rolling out of the speakers, Marcie reminded him of their chat in the
car about finding their way into a new normal. Ben guessed they were already working that
out, with the laundry and the Sunday night family phone calls. Marcie agreed, but went on
to talk about their meals and their drinking. Ben was very happy to confirm that they
wouldn’t drink wine every night, and that they could get into the habits of eating more
vegetables and less fatty meals. He reminded her about the way that he needed to find his
own new normal for his diet, now that he’d be dramatically cutting down his physical
activity. He assured her that he wouldn’t become a calorie bore though, or do anything like
start Weightwatchers, but they did talk briefly about finding a safe gym routine.
Then, with her empty plate still in front of her, Marcie suggested they get down to the really
boring practicalities of their normal everyday concerns, checking her schedule at the
university and planning specific meals for the next week. Ben was happy to help, and also
said that he was happy to do a big shop tomorrow. He confirmed with Marcie that the
nearest major supermarket was in Gosforth near the Regent Centre Metro stop, but she
admitted she normally got everything in the local one on Acorn Road. She speculated that it
was better not to keep popping in every day though to get whatever they’d just thought of
in the moment, and Ben agreed.
So with the air of someone who was committed to doing the job properly, Marcie drew up
their menu timetable for next week in a page from her Filofax, noting the evenings she’d be
late back. She chatted with Ben about each other’s reliable recipes, then converted what
they’d agreed into a shopping list. She offered to hand over some cash with it, but Ben held
up his hand, saying he wanted to get it while she was still paying the mortgage and all the
bills. They talked again about setting up a shared budget, but both agreed they could leave
that particular excitement for later, perhaps as part of what they thought might become a
regular Sunday evening planning session.
“I’m sorry to be boring,” Marcie concluded, sipping her wine as the dreamy music rolled on,
the sensuous female vocals seeming unintelligible to Ben.
“It’s just the ordinary stuff, isn’t it?” Ben smiled contentedly, “We’re grounding ourselves
in the everyday too. It is part of exploring that new normal, to go alongside our shared
exploration of fantasy myth ideas, and our exciting open-minded experiments, you know, at
a physical level.”
“Hmm, food, money, myths and fucking,” Marcie chuckled, “Is that what makes us human?”
“Aye, and looking after each other, keeping clean, keeping safe, making a nice home, being
kind to each other if we get sick, meeting friends, helping each other to grow, to learn and
develop, and maybe trying to make the world a slightly better place,” Ben added
thoughtfully.
“Well that sounds like another of your lists right there!” Marcie teased, adding, “And
speaking of getting clean, shall we tidy this lot away together, then maybe think about
giving ourselves a scrub down? I don’t know about you, but I’m aware I’m still a bit slimy
down below.”
Ben agreed to Marcie’s idea of tidying up their scratch supper, whilst avoiding any
comment on the possible state of her vulva. His impulse was to return to the polite and safe
way of being with her, as he had tried to do yesterday evening. Everything had felt so jittery
then, after the fire and then their row. Though they’d done their best to heal the strife that
the latter had caused, Marcie had been worried about slipping into a kind of mania, he
remembered. Keeping afloat above the dark depths of the loss and uncertainty in their lives,
as well as their primitive passionate feelings, had seemed important then. Now the modest
course of action merely seemed the best way to keep playing out the new normality that
they’d agreed to explore going forwards.
That attitude led both Ben’s outward behaviour and his words as he put the things from
their meal away and then began to dry up the dishes that Marcie had started washing at the
sink. Yet it also guided his inner thoughts to some extent. His imagination still played with
the crude idea of Marcie’s vagina oozing her former wet arousal across the soft fabric of the
very same knickers that he had held to his face earlier, and still conjured images of how
she’d look as she ran the shower’s steaming flow through her soapy pubic hair. However,
each time such thoughts arose, his mind deliberately moved on quickly, letting them pass
without dwelling on them. He vaguely hoped that this may help him to see the wider
picture of the shared lives that they were forging, yet he also recognised that he may have
simply been finding it easier to not get caught up in such intimate visualisations as his
sexual appetites were already so well sated.
Confirming that Marcie was happy to help him finish the wine, Ben emptied what was left
in the bottle into their glasses. He’d thought that she may be keen to sit on the sofa to read,
as he remembered that was her habit after her evening meal. He was ready to look at his
mind map book and his sketched ideas for the backyard again for his part. However Marcie
asked him straight away if he wanted to have a bath like last night’s. Ben felt it would be
selfish to repeat exactly what they’d done, so he suggested ways to simplify or vary things,
whilst also asking her about her routines. When she queried what he meant, he risked
asking directly if she needed to shave in the bath, as she’d previously hinted she did. Marcie
unselfconsciously admitted that her armpits were probably due some attention, but
thought her legs weren’t too stubbly yet, challenging Ben to contradict her. He vigorously
denied that he’d noticed anything at all, then she laughed at the awkward and unwarranted
guilt that her teasing had prompted in him.
Then, once they’d agreed that Ben would bathe quickly before Marcie got into the bathtub
in the water that he’d run, he bravely volunteered to try reading aloud to her as she took
her time to soak and relax. He apologised straight away that it couldn’t be the nice
experience that she’d given him, as he would be far less fluent with the words. However
Marcie was very enthusiastic and encouraging, reassuring him that no matter how slowly
he read or how many mistakes he made, it would still be lovely for her to hear. She also
pointed out that the practice would only help him to get better and more confident with the
written word. Then she confirmed that he wanted to continue reading about Narnia, with a
slightly amused expression as if she were challenging him. Ben guessed she may have been
imagining listening to him read Tracy Cox’s sex tips out loud, but thinking once again of
keeping things safely polite, he merely confirmed that he had expected to keep following
the children’s adventures.
Once they’d decided on their plan, they both promptly started arranging things. Ben found
the old book to take through the bathroom with the candelabra, which he carried anxiously
and carefully to avoid dripping wax, going back to collect their wineglasses, putting them
down on the far edge of the bath. Meanwhile Marcie went to the bedroom to get a clean
nightdress, saying she’d pick up the extra candles and get the room ready for the night too.
Ben thought it seemed dark in the bathroom with just the candlelight, but he guessed his
eyes would become accustomed to it as he laid the book on the laundry basket, passed
water, then got undressed, before stepping over to the bath.
When Marcie eased her way into the bathroom, Ben swung the open shower panel in a little
to let her push around the door while he crouched beside the bathtub, running the water
hot over a little bubble-bath. She ran her hand across his bare shoulders, commenting again
on the delight of finding a naked satyr in her bathroom. Ben apologetically admitted that
Roddie wasn’t performing very well at that moment, being too small and sleepy to really
help him play that role. Marcie reassured him that he was not to worry at all, as Vixen was
feeling a little worn out too after everything that they’d been getting up to. Yet as the bath
filled under Ben drifting hands, he was pleased to feel a kind of mental arousal at least as
Marcie lifted her loose blouse over her head, revealing her round breasts, cupped in the
pale blue satin cups of her bra.
With the bath now deep enough for a business-like wash, Ben cautiously eased his cold feet
into the water even as the taps were still running, feeling them tingle with the heat.
Squatting first, he scooped foamy water with his cupped hands to pour over his head, face,
neck and shoulders, blowing out noisily from his mouth as he did so. He splashed his
genitals and anus too, then rubbed up a lather in his hands to soap them up, popping his
foreskin back, and only then sinking into the water to rinse himself down. Once sitting, he
soaped up his face, torso and feet, before raising his knees and lying back to immerse his
body as best he could under the rising water, sloshing it all over his body, lathering and
rinsing his armpits once more. Then he sat up again, splashing his face down for a final time,
before rising from the bath, dripping water onto his towel as he stepped out, barely two
minutes after he’d got in.
As he briskly towelled himself down, Ben smiled at Marcie, now naked herself and perched
on the toilet seat with her own towel over her knees. He saw how her arms were crossed in
her lap, leaving her heavy breasts exposed, their shadowy areolae seeming dark in the
candlelight. He again thought of how she perfectly embodied the casually posed expression
of fascinating femininity that artists had striven to capture throughout history. He saw her
now as if she were in a relaxed cosmopolitan studio though, a muse to the intelligentsia in
decadent prewar Paris or Berlin perhaps, rather than ancient Greece or Rome.
“There was no need to be so quick,” she said gently as she returned his gaze.
“I know,” Ben responded, coming back to the moment as he wrapped his towel around his
waist. He turned back to the bathtub to pour a more bubble-bath under the taps as he shyly
explained, “But I didn’t want to keep my dryad queen waiting, while her bathwater cooled,
and the bubbles disappeared.”
“I guess I’d be more of a nymph or a naiad if I’m in the water rather than up a tree,” Marcie
mused as she rose and once again brushed Ben’s shoulders whilst he still knelt, stirring the
bathwater.
He could not resist turning toward her naked body, putting his wet hands flat to her belly
and hip, planting a soft kiss on the warm skin of her abdomen. Then he looked up past the
mounds of her breasts with their soft nipples to look into her wide dark eyes with genuine
adoration as she ruffled his hair. She’d giggled, but now she said, “Oh Ben, I really do need
to get clean. It feels as if we could tease each other and wind ourselves up again, but there’s
no need for that tonight. Do you agree?”
“Aye,” Ben said, kissing her belly once more, then rising to his feet and cheekily drying his
hands on her towel before pressing a brief kiss to her lips too. He explained his earlier
thought, “You are a beautiful vision to me, of shining womanhood. You excite me, we’re
hungry for each other, I think, but just in our minds now, because we’ve sated those
appetites for today, for our bodies, it feels like. It’s okay to let Roddie and Vixen rest for
now, while the inner fires of our sexual engines just smoulder, in our hearts as well as our
bodies. Meanwhile, I can try reading to you, while you do your regular Sunday night bath
thing, and we make our new normal, all modest and polite.”
“Well, not too modest,” Marcie said as she stepped into the bath, holding Ben’s hand in a
ladylike way, “I wouldn’t carry on like this with anyone else, getting my boobies out in
front of them while I listened to their sensuously sonorous voice.”
“I’m glad to hear it, I guess,” Ben responded, leaving it at that rather than getting back into
their discussion of their feelings about exhibitionism. As Marcie lowered herself into the
bathwater and leant back with a sigh of contentment, he felt something of that same
relaxed happiness as he took his wineglass and sat down on the toilet lid, drying his hands
again to be on the safe side, before opening her precious book at its special bookmark.
Though Ben had half expected to see Marcie begin splashing about as she washed herself
and shaved her armpits, she seemed content to just let her body soak for the time being. He
saw her reach for her wine to take a sip, so he followed her example. Then he cautiously
began reading, using Amber’s old postcard to keep his place, just as Marcie had shown him.
As he picked up the story of the children’s worries about food and their pursuit of the robin
in the winter sun, his halting reading became a little easier. Though he still made mistakes,
often going back to repeat phrases once he’d got the sense of it right, Marcie listened
patiently. He noticed - and appreciated - that she didn’t once interrupt to correct him, even
though she must have recognised his errors even before he did.
It was slow progress, but as he finished his wine, he was beginning to find a voice for each
of the children. He almost felt that he was speaking for Edmund as the younger boy started
questioning the others’ assumptions about sides, and which they ought to be picking. Ben
felt the uncomfortably conflicted Edmund had a point, lost on their own in a strange wood.
However he also guessed that to the author, these sorts of sceptics questions were an
unhelpful waste of time to those of true faith. Then he read Lucy’s line when she said, “I
think it’s a nice beaver,” at which point he glanced up to catch Marcie’s expression. Her
dark eyebrows were raised in a parody of shocked surprise, even as she smirked, and then
they both laughed together.
“Poor Clive Staples, or Jack as he was known,” Marcie said thoughtfully, “He must have
been pretty naive about slang terms for women’s pudenda. I’m quite sure that term for our
lady parts was already well established by the time of the Second World War.”
“So why did he choose the beaver as a character?” Ben wondered aloud.
“Well maybe it was because they are monogamous animals, mating for life,” Marcie
reflected, draining her own wine. Then, as she began washing herself properly with the
soapy shower puff, she went on, “And proverbially hard working too. ‘As busy as a beaver,’
if you’d credit it. Those are both good Christian values, and it could be argued they’re
sound ethical practices for any other culture too, I’m sure.”
“But why not an animal that children would know better?” Ben persisted, “We talked about
horses and rabbits, but perhaps other pets, or a farm animal, like the Billy Goats Gruff, even
a fox or a badger. It’s more likely that kids would know them.”
“Maybe they’d be more common in children’s books that were more for our generation,
like Watership Down or The Animals of Farthing Wood,” Marcie reflected, moving onto her
armpits with foam and a razor now, as Ben noticed without comment, “Badger sounds like
he’s out of The Wind in the Willows though, which perhaps Lewis wanted to distance
himself from. I can imagine an ardent Christian medievalist having some issues with the
saccharine tone of that folksy Edwardian yarn, especially in its joyfully pagan scene with
the benevolent god Pan. But I think he admired other authors from the previous generation,
like Edith Nesbit, and she had a phoenix and an ancient sand creature in her stories, who
granted wishes as if they were djinni or fairies.”
“I don’t know her stories,” Ben admitted, before remarking, “But those are fantasy
creatures, right? A beaver is different. It’s like saying I’m making friends with, I don’t know,
a polecat.”
“Well, maybe you should try that,” Marcie said teasingly, “I’m sure you’d find him very
playful. You could keep him down your trousers! But we’ve interrupted your wonderfully
careful and thoughtful reading, and I’m finished here now, so why don’t we park the story
there so you can get ready for bed while I get out and into my nightie?”
Ben agreed, folding the book closed and setting it carefully aside with a sigh, then standing
to stretch. He watched Marcie as he tensed his calves and thighs, then braced his arms,
rolling his neck and shoulders. Her naked body glistened in the candlelight as she rose from
the bath, her dripping mole-dappled skin glowing pink where she had been immersed in
the hot water. He saw her chest and stomach glossy with the clinging bathwater, her
breasts hanging down and swinging as she reached for her towel, her sopping-wet pubic
hair matted and plastered to her vulva as she stepped out. Despite his earlier observations
about his sated absence of arousal, he was aware that his libido was involuntarily stirring
again now, warm blood flowing to softly swell his penis.
Yet, once he’d caught Marcie’s eyes to exchange smiles of unspoken contentment in a
lingering moment, he shook out his arms and stepped towards the bathroom basin, turning
away from her as she got on with drying herself down. As he took in the slow puffs of his
brown inhaler then started brushing his teeth, Ben remembered Marcie’s words, that
though they could wind their bodies up to an energetic passion once again if they wanted,
there’s no need. He knew his current contentment was rooted in the blazing passion of the
physical intimacy that they’d already shared that day, but deeper than that, he felt sure of
his trust in their new love’s deeper enduring warmth.
Then Marcie was standing at his side, joining him in his routine at the basin, her clean dry
body draped in her white nightdress. She gave him a playful nudge with her hip,
encouraging him to make space for her as she reached for her own toothbrush. As she
stood close, Ben inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and thought he caught a hint of her
washed skin’s soapy fragrance over his toothpaste’s strong peppermint. But then he was
done, rinsing his mouth out and ready to leave the bathroom. He told Marcie he’d get some
fresh water to take through to the bedroom, noticing how her eyebrows flicked up and her
cheeks beside her nose creased as she tried to indicate her agreement with a smile, even
whilst her mouth was still filled with foam around her vigorously moving toothbrush.
Ben pulled off his towel and hung it up, affecting a casual nonchalance as he exposed his
softly lengthened penis to Marcie. He picked up the wineglasses to drop them by the
kitchen sink, standing naked in the kitchen before the closed blind as he filled a pair of
clean glasses with cold water. He cast his eyes around the shadowy living room as he
padded slowly through it, vaguely imaging what other emotional, intimate and mundane
things he and Marcie might get up to in that cosy space, on the soft sofa or the coarser rug,
beneath that totemic image of the lovers. He felt a potent glow of satisfaction in the
recognition that this was now truly his space too, even as he edged around his bike in the
corridor and into Marcie’s bedroom, navigating by the light of the one lamp that she’d left
on which spilt around the half-open door. As he stepped into the room to see their shared
bed, he inhaled the now familiar scent of her soft den as he put the glasses down. He felt
utterly uninhibited, wearing nothing but Marcie’s pendant charm, hidden from the street
behind the thick curtains. There was a sure confidence flowing through his clean and
pleasantly fatigued body, a profound sense of assurance in his ability to play the archetypal
role of the virile lover, exclusively for Marcie, together in this private space, weaving and
fusing his life to hers.
Ben relished the sensation of the slightly rough fresh sheets brushing against his bare skin
as he slipped under the duvet. Stretching out on his back, he felt a kind of relief to be letting
the firm mattress take his weight. Once again, he deliberately tensed his muscles - from his
toes through his calves, thighs and buttocks, through his abdomen and shoulders, down his
arms to his fingertips - then, after a moment held in tension, he released them, breathing
deeply. The relaxing effect of the simple exercise amplified his sense of calm equanimity,
even as it triggered a faint glow of gently pulsing arousal in his scrotum and softly swollen
penis. Yet Ben was quite aware that he and Marcie would not have sex again tonight, so his
tired thoughts drifted on above these pleasant physical sensations.
He knew that not everything was right for the world. He remained aware of the uncertainty
that clouded his future path, as well as the unappealing demands of his list of
administrative duties, yet these concerns seemed muted. Balanced against them was a
profound certainty, deeply rooted in the marrow of bones, that he would face all that with
Marcie at his side. He just knew that her presence would let him see the world with joy, her
strength would give him the energy to achieve whatever he set his heart to, and their
shared love would carry them through anything that the world threw at them, together. He
also knew to the core of his being that they would remain safe and sound in the inviolable
haven of their own private magical realm of bliss. Lying in her bed, naked and at ease, at the
end of the most intense and upsetting week that he could remember, he knew too that he’d
come home. He found his attention drawn to his breathing, becoming more aware of the
rise and fall of his chest and belly. As his focus deepened, he deliberately lengthened his
breath, relishing the ease with which the air flowed through his lungs, filling his whole
body, it seemed.
Marcie slipped into the room almost silently just a few moments later. He rolled over to
look at her as she came around to what had become her side of the bed. The mole-freckled
skin of her bare arms and face seemed to radiate a honeyed warmth, its rich colour glowing
like sun-soaked wood against the pure white of her nightdress. He looked at the way her
thick dark hair was pulled back into her plait from her lustrous forehead. He took in the
sight of her proud nose, the strong line of her jaw and her broad lips, creasing her cheeks
where they twitched into a smile. And he looked into her wide brown eyes, clear of makeup
and sparking beneath her glasses and her heavy eyebrows, gazing at him with love just as
he gazed at her. As she smiled down at him, she said, “Are you not asleep yet, my weary
lion?”
“No, just relaxing, breathing, my queen of the night,” he replied. Then he drew a deep
breath as if to demonstrate that as he threw the duvet back to invite her to lie next to him,
coincidentally revealing his naked torso and hips to her. She didn’t hesitate to get into bed,
easing herself down against his body. He wanted to share the way that he’d felt just a
moment earlier, but all he could say, in a low murmuring voice, was, “I love you. I’m so
happy to be here with you, in our shared home. We can do anything, together.”
“I know,” Marcie said in her own seductively low tone as she wriggled against him, with
both of them wrapping an arm around the other’s waist and hips now. She delicately
pecked his lips with hers, then went on, “I love you too. We can indeed do everything that
your heart desires, together. And do your desires run to pumping, spurting, messy, sweaty,
breathlessly orgasmic sex tonight?”
“Honestly, that was not in my plans, for once,” Ben admitted with a chuckle, even as he felt
his arousal sleepily stirring, “Genuinely though, I’d love to try, to leave us both gasping for
air again, if you want.”
“No, I’m happy just as we are, cuddling. We’ve both done quite well for that today already,
I’d say,” Marcie said with a teasing smile, “I’m a lucky girl, glad to help my big strong boy
enjoy his healthy masculine expression. But we’re both tired now, aren’t we? And the
future is wide open with that wonderful fresh air now, isn’t it? So we can be sure of being
able to fill our heaving lungs whenever we want, with the help of your medicine and the
beating wings of our angelic love. But shall we just turn the lights out for now?”
“Aye, let’s” Ben agreed, then pressed his lips to softly and tenderly hers, cradling her head
in his hands, before she rolled over to remove and fold her glasses. Ben rolled away to click
the bedside light off, and in the darkness she embraced him again, making spoons with her
behind him for once. He felt the warmth of her body pressing against his back and his
buttocks through the thin cotton of her nightdress, aware of the pressure of her hips and
her breasts. Then he felt her hand running down his abdomen, even while his own hands
were just tucked up by his chin, ready for sleep. He felt a thrill of excitement as he felt her
brush and then briefly grasp his softly swollen penis in her small fragile grip, but she didn’t
linger there. He felt almost as if she’d just wanted to check it was there, then she rested her
palm flat on his stomach, at the fringe of his pubic hair below his bellybutton.
“Well, this is a first for us too,” he murmured in his profound contentment, “Coming to bed,
then going to sleep, without making love.” He felt his penis gently stretch and grow beside
her hand in a relaxed and unforced way in delayed response to her touch, but knew its
pressure would ebb soon.
“Hmm, we’re making love all the time now. You’ve penetrated my furry portal. You’ve
found our secret enchanted kingdom, where you are oh so welcome. You’re reigning over
my fertile land now, for good,” Marcie said in a dreamily distant voice, and Ben knew that
what she said was true.
Intermission
This is the story of the first time I had sex. It happened after a family lunch to celebrate my
brother Adam’s birthday. He wasn’t there because he was out at sea, away on his Royal
Navy ship. He was turning nineteen, and I guess my parents were missing him. They had
prepared a big roast dinner, a joint of beef from our farm.
They’d invited their surviving parents. My dad’s mother Pat was a widow, slowed by
arthritis but alert and sharp. On my mum’s side were Betty, who used to laugh when we
called her Fat Gran, and Grandad Ron, who was quite deaf and geriatric by then. My aunts
were at the lunch too, my dad’s sister and her friend. I’d realised by then that they were
lesbians, but I’d not thought there was anything unusual about that when I was growing up.
They simply came as a package together, my slightly sour real Auntie Grace and her bubbly
friend, Auntie Ginny.
As well as their family, my parents had invited my brother’s girlfriend Ashleigh and her
parents, Naomi and Tom. This was no surprise as they were all old friends, going back to
before they were married. But perhaps my mum also thought it would be nice for Ash, if
she were missing my brother too. In a way, I found out that she was, but no one else could
ever know how she showed that to me.
I’d made some effort to dress up for the meal, in my new loose shirt and chinos. However,
Ash had tried harder and achieved infinitely more, becoming a vision of elegant and sexy
glamour to me. She’d applied glossy red lipstick to her thin lips, and used eyeliner with
silver-blue eyeshadow to make her grey eyes seem larger. She’d also crimped her blonde-
brown hair, then put some into a high ponytail so that it cascaded down over her shoulders.
These were covered by the pleated cotton of a short-sleeved Laura Ashley dress. I thought
its flowery print seemed fitting for the season, as the warm June heralded the summer. But
perhaps she’d chosen it to flatter my mum too, as of course the white flowers matched her
name, Daisy. Despite the dress’s elegant politeness, its modest V-neck left her collarbones
bare, where I could see the chain of her gold pendant. This was half a heart, and I imagined
the other half around my brother Adam’s neck even at that moment.
I’d been allowed a small glass of shandy, and we toasted my brother before we started
eating. But once that was gone, I had to make do with water. Meanwhile the adults kept
refilling their own drinks - homebrew bitter for the men and white wine for the women,
including Ash. I found their chatter dull and stilted, so I remained quiet, but Ash seemed to
make conversation easily. Just as with her care for her appearance, this was clearly another
area in which she performed infinitely better than me.
Already well into her vocational training as a veterinary nurse, she had lots of news and
mild gossip from the farms and families that the older folks knew. Perhaps they were
making an effort to cheer her up too, by keeping her in the spotlight, and by keeping her
glass topped-up. In any case, she seemed full of stories about our neighbours’ animals. She
didn’t avoid those that were sad, disgusting or painful, but she was clearly keenest on her
anecdotes about the antics of baby animals. Throughout lunch, she inevitably drew all my
admiring attention, and I found her genuinely witty and fascinating. I was awestruck by her
dazzling mature confidence, which I knew I so lacked.
Perhaps my mum had noticed I’d been quiet and interpreted it as boredom, or perhaps she
was tired of playing court to Ash herself. Either way, as soon as we’d emptied our pudding
bowls, she suggested I take Ash out to see our own new kittens. Living on a farm, the cats
were almost feral. They had the run of the sheds and outbuildings, keeping the mice down.
We knew one had given birth in a barn, but none of us had really inspected the litter. My
dad immediately echoed my mum’s suggestion, asking if Ash would also be able to sex the
kittens for us. Mum was cross with him for asking Ash to work when she wasn’t on a job,
but Ash said that she didn’t mind at all. With her bright personality, perhaps enhanced by
the wine, she seemed genuinely enthusiastic for me to show her the litter. She said she even
had her call-out bag in the car, which she always carried just in case. She explained her
disinfectant and gloves would keep the kittens safe from her germs, if their mum let her
handle them. My dad thought that sounded great, and suggested I take some milk and Go-
Cat with us to keep the queen happy and busy while we checked her brood.
He even got up to walk with us from the dining room through to the kitchen. I got the things
for the cat, while he showed Ash to the back porch, where he fussed about finding
wellingtons to fit her. In a flash of insight, I realised that he too might be a little under the
spell of Ash’s feminine charm. She didn’t seem to mind though as she accepted the loaned
boots, even though I said it was dry outside and we wouldn’t be walking through the
cowsheds.
Once we both had boots on, she led me out to her parents’ car to get her professional-
looking bag, then she asked me to lead her in turn to the kittens. I pointed out the old brick-
built stables, filled with equipment downstairs, but still used as a hayloft upstairs. She
surprised me by saying she knew it, then explained that Adam had shown her around.
The dusty building was dark and smelt strongly of the fresh hay, but enough sunlight spilt
through gaps in the empty windows’ wooden shutters to see by. We inched around the
things like mowers, rakes and balers, avoiding their greasy tractor hook-ups especially.
Then we stopped at the foot of the old ladder into the loft where I knew the litter was. “Will
you be okay to climb this?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, seemingly so unfazed by the prospect that she almost scoffed. Then
her attitude softened. “I’m not a tender flower, you know. I won’t break like glass if there’s
a bit of rough and tumble.”
“I’m sorry. You just seem too beautiful to be here,” I said, the words escaping my mouth
before I realised they were coming.
She smiled indulgently, then stepped forward to lay a hand on my arm, rooting me to the
spot. “You remind me of Adam, you know. You look a bit like him, of course, but he’s kind
to me too,” she said thoughtfully, so near that I could smell the wine on her breath.
I felt my pulse racing at the close contact, but I didn’t know how to respond. “Do want to
climb up top now, then?” I asked, falling back on practicalities.
“Aye,” she said, smiling and slipping her bag off her shoulder to hand to me, “But you can
carry this and go first. I don’t want you looking up my skirts,” she added with a giggle as
she lowered her eyelids.
“I understand,” I replied with a pretence of maturity, but I felt myself blush. The way that
she’d spoken to me seemed somehow teasing, and I realise now that she was flirting. But at
that moment I just felt as if she’d suddenly shown me a different side of her personality. It
was as if I wasn’t just someone’s irritating younger brother now, a schoolboy to ignore or
just boss about. Instead I felt she’d started treating me as one of peers, perhaps as an equal.
I felt very grateful for her kindness, which I realised she’d shared only once we were alone
together.
It was a bit awkward climbing with her bag over one shoulder, gripping the bottle of milk
and box of cat biscuits in one hand too, but the rungs were broad and closely spaced. I set
the things down once I’d reached the top, then I turned around, ready to give her a hand
through the open trap door. I remember feeling proud, grown up and responsible. But
somehow that feeling, as well what she’d said about looking up her dress, made me acutely
aware of her cleavage. I could see only a hint of the gap between her breasts as I watched
her climb towards me, but it was more than I’d noticed earlier. I was both fascinated by
and compelled to look away from this view down her dress’s V-neck. I imagined, perhaps
naively, that mature eighteen year old men wouldn’t stare at that kind of thing on their
friends.
Her warm hand gripped mine firmly as I pulled her up and she took the last rungs. “We
should take our wellies off. We don’t want to walk poo over your cows’ dinner,” she said.
I thought of saying that they didn’t seem too bothered about that themselves, but didn’t.
Instead I just followed her suggestion, taking my socks off too. I felt the scratchy carpet of
loose hay on my bare feet, smiling as she scrunched her bare toes on the old boards too,
giggling again. Then I put my fingers to my lips, looking into her wide eyes. In the silence,
after a pause, we heard a quiet rustle and a tiny mewing.
Her face seemed to light up in the shadowy mock-twilight of the hayloft. With her smile
beaming, she turned toward the sound. She crept silently between the stacks of warm hay
to find the litter’s nest in a niche between the rectangular bales, and I followed with
everything we’d brought.
The mother hadn’t moved the kittens from where my dad had first found them a week ago.
She looked at us suspiciously as she lounged there, her tiny offspring sprawling around her
helplessly. I saw that the nearby dishes, which I’d filled that morning, were empty. As I
rattled the box of Go-Cat, her head perked up in interest.
“I think she’s hungry,” I said in a low voice.
“Wouldn’t you be, with all those little mouths sucking your nipples dry?” Ash replied,
making me blush again, I’m sure.
“How do you want to do this? Shall I tip out some biscuits and milk then try to grab her so
that you can pick up the kittens?” I asked, avoiding her rhetorical question.
“No, we can keep it calm, without anyone grabbing anything,” she said sternly. “Let me get
some gloves on before I handle them. Then let’s go in quickly together. You distract mum
by rattling the box and just giving her tiny teasing morsels. Meanwhile I’ll try and check
them before she even notices.”
I watched with impressed admiration as Ash got some disposable gloves out of her bag and
put them on. She seemed to have suddenly become so professional, revealing yet another
aspect of her personality. Her glamorous dress and makeup already contrasted
dramatically with the dusty old barn, and now her surgical gloves made her seem even
more fascinating. She confirmed I was ready, then I followed her lead as she got onto her
knees and calmly made inviting “puss-puss-puss” noises.
I started to rattle the box again, getting the mother cat’s attention, then dropped two tiny
biscuits onto a dish. She approached, and Ash already had her hands amongst the kittens.
Their mewling ramped up and their mum turned, so I made the puss noises and splashed a
little milk down. The rangy queen stepped forward and took a few laps, but turned to her
babies again, so I distracted her with more biscuits. But Ash was already leaning back on
her haunches with a smug expression. “Four toms, two queens,” she stated confidently.
“Let me get my notebook and I’ll jot down which is which by their markings. Fill the dishes
up now and let her feed while we back off a bit.”
We retreated a little way and sat down next to each other on a nearby bale, watching the
mother cat eat quickly as she guarded her writhing litter. Ash lifted her bag onto her knee,
pulled her gloves off, and stuffed them into one of its side pockets. Then she pulled out a
notebook and pen to start making her neat notes on the kittens. I was glad everything had
gone so smoothly, and I was impressed at Ash’s skills, but I wasn’t sure what we’d do now
that the job was over. I certainly didn’t want to go back to the house yet. The old folks
would still be talking about nothing of consequence, over coffee now. Meanwhile I was
deeply content to just be spending time alone with Ash. So I meekly sat close beside her,
soaking up her enchanting presence. She pointed out the features she’d written down with
remarks like “left front sock” and “white tail tip” to make sure I’d seen what she had. Then
she tried pointing out the kittens’ genitals as they tumbled about, explaining how she’d
sexed them, as if I’d not realised.
Suddenly she twisted around as if challenging me, managing to look down her nose at me
even though she was considerably shorter. “So you know what a cat’s vulva looks like, and
other animals’ bits too I’ll bet, farmer-boy. But what about girls? Have you ever seen a real
woman’s private parts?” she asked matter-of-factly.
I thought of saying, “Of course,” as I would to one of my peers, half bluffing as I thought of
sex education books and secretly shared porno mags, or even memories of playing in the
water with others as a small child. But instead I was honest, even as I felt myself blush
again. “No, not really. Not a real woman,” I admitted.
“Let’s move down the barn a bit, where there’s more light, and I’ll show you mine, if you
like,” she said quietly and confidently, setting her notebook aside and putting her hand on
my knee, “But the deal is that you’ve got to show me your private bits too, and we keep it
an absolute secret, cross our hearts and hope to die, right?”
“Right, I understand,” I eagerly agreed, in wild hopeful surprise. I’d impulsively grasped
her hand, my heart truly racing now, hooked by her mature feminine sexuality. The thought
of this heavenly vision sharing so much with me was like something from a dream.
“Okay, let’s do this then,” she said, as if steeling herself too. She squeezed my hand, then
dropped it to pack her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Meanwhile she got me to check
the things we’d brought for the cat were tucked safely away. Then she rose to her bare feet
and took my hand again. “Is there a bit of space down there?” she asked, gesturing to the
far end of the hayloft. I knew where she meant, where a pattern of gaps in the bricks of the
gable wall let light as well as air in.
I led the way down a clear path between the stacks of bales, feeling the fresh hay scratch
and tickle my feet. I helped Ash to scramble over stray bales that blocked our way, even
though I remembered her saying she could cope with the rough and tumble. As we came to
the far end, we found a bare spot against the wall, where she dropped her bag. Under Ash’s
instruction, I pulled some bales from the stack, and she helped to arrange these into a kind
of level platform. I noticed she was getting hay on her lovely dress and apologised for it. She
said she didn’t mind, but then asked if there wasn’t a tarpaulin or something nearby to
cover the bales.
I was sceptical, but as my eyes scanned around, I saw something stashed behind a roof spar.
I pulled it out and saw that it was indeed a folded sheet of heavy canvas, its dark green
faded with age. I wondered how on earth Ash knew it would be there, but then
remembered that she’d said Adam had already shown her around this barn. With a slightly
queasy spark of intuition, I realised that I may be playing my brother’s part in a scene that
Ash had already performed up here. But even as I thought it, I knew I’d still like to go
through with it. I was very keen to have any role in an intimate drama with her, even if I
was just as an opportunistic substitute, an understudy to its original author and star.
We spread the tarpaulin out on the springy platform we’d made. As we did so, Ash playfully
bossed me about, shoving my shoulder and bumping my hip with hers to get me to move
where she wanted. I was hot by the time we finished. The warm air beneath the sun-soaked
roof tiles was heavy with the fug of drying hay, but I’d exerted myself lugging the bales and
tarp about too. But I’m sure my temperature was also a side effect of my fluttery heart and
eager anticipation. I still felt unsure of what Ash may share with me as I stood before her.
She was above me, tall on our platform, while my bare feet were on the hayloft’s bare
boards. I saw her silhouetted against the shafts of light piercing the wall behind her. She
seemed a vision of statuesque elegance, whilst her artful makeup and graceful dress refined
her feminine beauty, which seemed so out of place in the tatty old barn. Yet I saw her
cheeks were glowing with warmth too, and strands of her crinkled fair hair were sticking to
sweat on her forehead as she breathed heavily.
“So are you going first?” she asked, adding, “I want to see what’s under all those
fashionably baggy clothes.”
“I’ll go,” I said eagerly. But then as I self-consciously unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off,
I became painfully aware of my narrow chest and skinny arms.
“That’s great. You’re doing very well,” she said reassuringly, taking my shirt from me and
laying it on the corner of the tarpaulin. Encouraged, I undid my belt and slipped my chinos
down, handing them to her again once I’d stepped out of them. “Come up here,” she
ordered in a quiet and kind voice once she’d laid them out too.
I took her hand to step up, but held onto it as I stood close before her, towering over her a
little. With her free hand, she trailed her fingertips over my shoulder and down my bare
arm. The sensation made me shiver with pleasure, and I became acutely aware that the
arousal which had started in my penis was rising quickly.
“Hmm, you’re as tall as Adam already, aren’t you? Taller maybe. But you’ve still got to bulk
out a bit, I think,” she said, almost as if she were speaking to herself as her fingertips
lingered on my chest. I let a slightly awkward silence open up, which she broke. “Are we
still going through with this then? Are you going to take those undies off and let me see
your cock?” she asked seductively.
“Aye,” I confirmed, then honestly admitted, “I’m just a bit embarrassed.”
“Why?” she asked sympathetically, “Is it still not quite man-sized yet? Have your pubes not
grown through? It’s okay. I’d still like to see it.”
“No, it’s not that,” I explained, “I started getting hairy years ago. It’s just that I’ve already
got a hard-on. You’re so beautiful and sexy, I couldn’t help it.”
“Well, that’s the whole idea, isn’t it?” She said patiently, smiling kindly up at me with her
wide eyes as she took both my hands. “I want to see how big it can get. That’s much more
interesting than just seeing a little waterspout.”
“Okay then,” I said with relief as I dropped her hands and swiftly pushed my boxer shorts
down. My long and swollen penis swung out towards her as they fell to my feet. I felt rude
to expose myself like this to Ashleigh, especially as she was still so smartly dressed, but I
also felt excited and perhaps in some way proud.
She stepped back as if to get a better look at me as I timidly stepped out of my shorts. “Well
that’s a fine sight,” she said gently, “A vigorous stem and healthy bag of nuts. There’s no
doubting you’re a tomcat, a troublesome stallion, a grown man now and not a boy. And
uncircumcised I see, like your brother. May I touch it?”
It felt a little odd to be compared to Adam, but that didn’t cloud the warm glow I felt at her
appreciation. “Of course,” I said, in answer to her question.
She didn’t hesitate, reaching out to grasp my shaft, then gripping it and pulling down firmly,
making my red glans pop out immediately. I gasped at the rough but exciting stimulation,
feeling myself surge to a hard and upright erection in her hand. I looked down, feeling a
little dizzy at the unreality of the situation. My penis was growing thickly to its full length,
bending upwards slightly, its veins bulging, yet her small square hand was right there too,
wrapped around it. “Are you making semen yet? Do you have wet dreams?” she asked
bluntly.
“Aye. That started a while ago,” I admitted, struggling to concentrate with my eager
pressure of profound excitement. “I come when I masturbate.”
“Thank you for sharing that,” she said, looking back up to meet my eyes with a prim smile.
“I guess you want to see my bits now too, to give you something to think about while
you’re about that, right?”
“Erm, I guess, if that’s okay, please,” I said weakly.
“Just remember this is our secret, okay?” she reminded me, unnecessarily, as she released
my penis and reached her hands behind the back. “And I just hope that you like what you
see, that it turns you on and doesn’t make you realise you’re a poofter after all. Oh, do you
want to do this for me actually? Can you see the zip?”
She’d turned her back to me as she asked her practical question, pointing to the seam that
ran down the back of her dress. “Is that okay? May I pull it down?” I asked respectfully,
even as my wooden erection strained upwards towards the pleated fabric over her
buttocks.
“Go ahead,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile over her shoulder. Reverentially, I
gripped zip’s tab and braced my other hand against the fabric. Then I carefully pulled it
down, aware of my hammering heart again.
“So once I’ve shown everything to you,” Ash went on, “I can’t really stop you having wet
dreams later, or stop you daydreaming about me while you play with yourself, can I?
Perhaps I could just ask you to be polite now, and treat me with respect in your memory.”
“Aye, of course,” I murmured. I had undone the zip, exposing the bare skin of her back and
the thick cream strap of her bra that crossed it. She was shrugging the dress off her
shoulders now, twisting her neck to look seductively back up at me. I returned her smile,
but my eyes almost immediately fell down to her body. I admired the way that her sandy
hair fell over the bumps of her spine and her shoulder blades. Then she started turning
around.
She’d bunched up her dress above her elbows as I saw her chest first in profile, then face-
on. I could see thinner bra straps running over her shoulders and clavicles now, but she
was only slowly revealing their triangular lacy cups. I think I gasped as she finally let her
loose dress fall forwards. Her breasts seemed to make neat round cones beneath the
creamy lace, and through the fabric I could clearly see the caramel pink circles of her skin
around her nipples. My hands were hanging limply by my sides, as I fought the urge to grab
either her body or my own upright erection.
But my eyes were still falling, along with her dress. Its sleeves were around her wrists now,
and her hands were on her hips. She was wriggling it down deliberately slowly, I was sure. I
was entranced by the soft skin of her abdomen, which seemed to make a smooth round
bulge around her bellybutton. I could already see the edges of her knickers, reaching high
over her hips to her narrow waist. I realised their cream material matched her bra, and
wondered if this meant her underwear was expensive. Then I saw more as she revealed the
V-shaped lace panel over her pubic mound. She paused with her hands gripping the
bundled fabric of her dress around her thighs. She must have known I was staring at the
neat triangle between her wide hips and thick thighs, gazing towards her vulva. Her dark
pubic hair was clearly visible through the gauzy fabric, and I was transfixed by the slightly
plump bulge beneath the creases that disappeared between her legs.
“I’ll take them off in a moment, after my bra,” she promised in a low voice. Then she sprung
into motion, disentangling her hands and stepping swiftly out of the dress, before folding it
up practically and laying it on top of my clothes. “Do you like them, by the way, my lacey set?
They’re a favourite of your brother’s too. I put them on today especially.”
“They’re sexy,” I said lamely, “You’re sexy, amazing. You look amazingly sexy and beautiful
in them.”
“But you’d still like to see me without them on, now that you’ve shown me what you look
like naked, right?” she confirmed. Then without further hesitation, she reached up behind
her back and unhooked her bra. I managed to briefly look up into her wide eyes as she
shucked the straps over her shoulders. She flashed a big smile at me, but I sensed she was a
little worried. I remembered her instruction to be polite, as if she might be anxious of my
judgement about her body. But she was already carefully lowering the creamy lace of her
bra’s cups, and I was powerless to do anything but marvel at what she revealed.
I saw that her breasts did indeed make modest cones, with subtle curving creases below
them. Her smooth pale skin contrasted strongly with her swarthy areolae, which I could see
were slightly raised around the distinct buds of her nipples. I was transfixed by the
textured details of their tiny bumps and wrinkles, as she must have noticed.
“You can touch them, if you want,” she said.
“They’re beautiful. You’re perfect,” I managed to say as I raised my hand. But I wasn’t sure
what to do, and I ended up just prodding her nipple, pressing it with my index finger almost
as if it were a doorbell.
“You don’t need to do it like that,” she said with a light laugh. It was a kindly chuckle, but I
still felt myself blushing in embarrassment.
“Let me show you,” she said patiently, perhaps noticing my discomfort. She raised both her
hands to my own chest and began dragging her fingertips and nails very gently across my
own small flat nipples. I followed her example, and found my own arousal surging back
strongly. It was viscerally exciting to feel her breasts, her nipples and her slightly springy
areolae under my sensitive fingertips, and to see them moving subtly back and forth under
my own big hands. She’d put her hands flat to my chest now, pushing her palms up over my
ribcage and pectoral muscles in rhythmic strokes. Again, I imitated her, feeling the smooth
skin and modest volume of her breasts cupped in my palms, and again the sensations
powerfully and profoundly aroused me.
“That’s it, not too hard,” she said encouragingly in a quiet and low voice, “I can tell you’re
enjoying this. You’re panting like a dog and practically drooling. Now, if I’m really excited,
like I’m aroused and close to my orgasm, you can gently pinch them too, like this.” She
tweaked my own vestigial nipples with a few swift plucks. I tentatively tried to do the same
for her, gently pinching each of her nipples, then tugging them with a little force, so they
slipped between my forefinger and thumb. I noticed her body respond almost immediately
as her areolae puckered up and her nipples rose to proud peaks.
“Ooh, you’re good at this,” she crooned, “That’s a bit much right now, but you’ll make the
girls very happy if you keep practising like that. But I’ve still not shown you what I
promised - my true private parts, my fanny, the other pussy that’s hiding up here.”
I laughed lightly with her, but I was very eager to see her take her knickers off too. “I’d like
to see it,” I reaffirmed, aware that I was still exposing my firm erection with its shiny red
head to her in a very rude and selfish way.
“Come around here then, and kneel down,” she said gently, putting her hand on my bare
shoulder, “You’ll see it better then.” In this way, we moved around until she had me with
my back to the light. She’d gently pushed me onto my knees on the springy tarpaulin, so
that I sat on my heels, my erection standing up in my lap. She stood above me with both her
hands on my shoulders now, smiling down over the peaks of her naked breasts. I felt like I
was in church before a divine angel, but this was a far more earthy and exciting church than
any I’d been in.
As I dropped my gaze to her knickers, she put her hands to her hips and, without ceremony,
pushed them down. She slipped her feet out of them, then stood before me with her legs
slightly apart. I saw the triangular bush of her pubic hair revealed, her rich hazel-brown
curls sparkling in the rays of sunlight. The dark groove of her vulva was also clear, and
within that I saw the tan lips of her wrinkled inner labia, hiding like shy petals in the
shadows.
“There’s actually nothing much to see, is there?” she said quietly as I stared, “It’s just a
crease with some rubbery lips, more like an absence of anything between my legs, in
contrast to your dangling sausage and baubles. But we know there’s a snug little channel
up there, right? My vagina, my cunt, the perfect place for your penis to slip into, or for a
baby to squeeze out of I guess, eventually. And beyond, deep inside, my bloody uterus. No,
don’t pull a face. I mean that in a good way. It’s all part of nature’s cycles, like this hot start
to summer and your cat’s kittens. But don’t worry, I’m not bleeding right now.”
“It’s amazing,” I said, struggling to speak at all in my rapturous attention, staring again at
her vulva after glancing up anxiously at her hint about menstrual blood, “It’s beautiful.
Every part of you is beautiful.”
“Don’t overdo it,” she gently admonished, “Our private parts are a bit funny looking -
strange fleshy bobbly things. But I guess they’re fun to have, and to share.”
I knew she was right. I knew that her eyes, and her proper hair and lips, were more
beautiful than her hair and lips down here. Yet I was still fascinated by her vulva, so close
before me. I recognised its general features from those sex education diagrams and porn
mags. But seeing her real and unique private parts, as she’d called them, was a very
different thing. I was aware of them being in a sense the focal point of her warm living body.
It was the point where her life could bring new life into being. Yet it seemed so small and
vulnerable too.
“It’s like a kitten,” I found myself saying.
“Yes, it’s my pussy!” she said with a polite laugh, “That’s what they call it. But it’s not a
kitten. That would mean I’d have to lick it clean, like a mother cat, and I don’t think my
tongue can reach! I think you’re struggling with words right now though, aren’t you? All
the blood’s gone from your brain to your swollen willy. Still, you can try stroking the pussy
if you want.”
I’d not been sure what to make of her reference to licking her vulva. At that age I only had a
vague idea that oral sex happened, yet the thought that I could lick it for her had
immediately popped into my mind. The idea of putting my mouth there initially seemed
disgustingly inappropriate, but the possibility also intrigued me. As Ash had noted, I was
struggling to put my thoughts into words right then though, so nothing came of that
unformed impulse at the time, yet a part of me now wishes I’d been braver. I know I would
have enjoyed kissing and tasting her intimate lips. And if I had, she might have guided me,
so that she would have wound up getting more out of that hot afternoon too.
As it was, I was glad to just lift my hand to touch her, only brushing her hair initially. It felt
springy under my fingertips, which I also found fascinating. Then I tried gently running the
backs of my fingers up the thinner hair over the plump skin beside her vulva’s crease.
“That’s it,” she encouraged, “Start slowly, massage around my lips. Don’t go straight for my
clit, and don’t start by trying to put your finger, or anything else, up my cunt yet. Your
brother was slow to learn that lesson. I guess you’ll find out with your own girlfriends too,
we really need that foreplay. There’s no kissing or necking today, sorry. Smeared lipstick
and love-bites would be a dead give-away. But stroking my skin, my breasts, my pussy, that
all helps, building it up slowly. By the time you try to stroke my inner lips, tickle my clit, slip
a finger inside, I should already be wet. And when you do, be patient and keep the rhythm
steady, once you’ve found the place that’s working for me. Is this all making sense, or am I
going fast? Do you know even know which bits I’m talking about?”
“I’m not sure,” I confessed. I’d kept brushing my hand up and down over her fur, confused
about what she wanted me to do next, but I was intrigued by the mental image of finding
her vagina with my finger.
“Oh, it’s no good like this,” she said in frustration, “I need to spread my legs so you can see
what’s going on. Let’s try this. You sit down. Stretch your legs out here.”
She’d come down onto one knee, her other foot flat on the tarp, making space beneath her.
She’d also got me under her, one hip by her knee but my legs wide apart, so her foot was
under my opposite knee. In this position her belly and chest were close to my face, whilst
her vulva was hovering almost over my penis. This had been softening a little, but now as I
looked up at her and she smiled smugly down, I felt it stiffen and grow again. She was quite
literally almost on top of me, and my body instinctively knew that we’d arrived in almost a
perfect situation to begin sexual intercourse.
I had one hand resting on her hip, my other braced behind me, but both her hands were
spread flat beside her vulva now, framing it. With one thigh now stuck out at right angles to
the other, her lips were widely parted. I could see a confusion of crinkled and folded skin
which I recognised vaguely as her inner labia, just as fleshy as she’d hinted, in a surprising
variety of pink and tan skin tones. And only now, towards the bottom of all that, did I
properly see, for the first time, the small parted cleft of her vagina.
“Is that better?” she asked, but perhaps she was speaking almost to herself, as she went on
without waiting for my answer, “You were massaging the side bits, like this, weren’t you?
That’s nice, but now I’m a bit wet, you could try the same on the slippery inner lips, up and
down, just beside my clit for now. Maybe you could stroke your fingers over my open cunt,
like this, just to get a bit more lubrication on them, then slide one up like this, along the
crease. Then there’s my clit, at the top, this little bump here, almost ready to be tickled, just
like this.”
Her hands had been moving confidently around her vulva as she’d been speaking, taking
ever longer pauses between each statement. I saw how she used the fingers of one hand to
part and raise her outer labia a little more. Then she’d started using her other hand to rub
herself, making smooth and swift strokes with just a fingertip or a firm pair of fingers
together. I wasn’t sure if she was just trying to show me all her private parts, or if she
wanted me to join in, or even if she’d just spontaneously started masturbating herself. I
knew in theory that girls could do such a thing, but I’d never imagined I’d see it happening
in front of me like this. I was feeling a kind of desperate pressure from my own arousal now,
and wondered what Ash would think if I started masturbating too. I knew I’d ejaculate
quickly if I did, which I thought might be shamefully embarrassing, so I deliberately
avoided touching myself.
As Ash had started those frequent pauses to demonstrate her words with the play of her
fingers, I’d noticed her breathing more heavily too. After especially one long pause, she
gave a kind of panting noise and broke my wavering uncertainty by saying, “You can touch
me too, if you want.”
Not sure of what to do, and trying to keep out of the way of her own jittery hands, I moved
my hand around her thigh to bring my middle finger to the lowest point between her legs.
Once again I felt an awestruck reverence and profound gratitude as I sensed the silky
warmth of her most intimate place under my fingertip. I realised it was indeed slippery
around the edge of her vagina, so almost without thinking, I eased my finger up into her. I
felt the warmth of her smooth muscles under the thin skin within her as I wiggled it about.
Then I impulsively pushed further in, hooking my finger deeper into her, exploring the
hidden space that seemed to writhe and flex against it.
“That’s good,” Ash said as she panted for breath, her small breasts rising and falling on her
heaving chest before me. We both continued our rubbing, itching strokes in silence for a
little longer, then she asked, “Can you stroke my lips now, massage them just where they
meet, around my clit?”
“I’m not sure where you mean,” I admitted, withdrawing my finger to rest my hand on her
inner thigh.
“I’m sorry, I’m going too fast aren’t I? It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it, for the first time? But
squatting like this, over your stiff cock, I feel so naughty! I shouldn’t be doing this with a
fifteen year old. Fourteen!” she exclaimed when I corrected her, “That’s even worse, and
my boyfriend’s little brother too! But that makes it really exciting for me, like there’s an
extra spice, a glittery sparkle in our cheeky game, making it even sexier, even juicier. I’m
getting carried away, getting really wet, and I’m enjoying it,” she said, grinning broadly,
still rubbing herself rapidly. But now her brow furrowed in concern, her hands
momentarily still on her vulva as she asked anxiously, “But I’m not bullying or coercing you,
am I? You do still want to be here, doing this, right? You can say if you feel scared or upset,
if you’ve had enough. You would say if you wanted to stop, wouldn’t you?”
“No! I mean yes!” I said in confusion, “This is the best moment of my life! I don’t want it to
ever end. You’re so sexy and beautiful. I’m so grateful. Thank you for showing me, well,
everything.”
“No, thank you. You’re sweet,” she said, smiling kindly down at me again, even as her
hands started itching at her vulva again. “But it can’t last forever,” she said breathlessly,
after making a kind of groaning sigh, “One of us has got to burst soon. So what do you think?
Do you want to try putting your cock inside me, just to try it out? It doesn’t matter if you
can’t come. You could just pop it in, to see how it feels.”
“Would you really let me?” I asked, almost pleading. Then I thought of all those public
information adverts from a few years earlier, “But would it be safe? Aren’t you worried
about AIDS?”
She laughed lightly at my anxiety though. “I can’t catch anything from you if you’re as
innocent as you seem. You’re like those kittens. You should be worried about catching an
infection from me. But I do have protection for all that in my bag too, if you don’t mind
popping a condom on.”
“You’re so kind,” I said, dizzy again with the thought that she was genuinely thinking of
going through with this.
“Let me just get it,” she said, dropping her hands and rising a little stiffly, pushing herself
up with one hand in mine and one my shoulder. I felt a greasy wetness on her grip, and that
triggered a strange wave of affection. It had suddenly struck home that this was the
tangible reality of her intimate arousal, which she’d just smeared on my skin.
Still sitting upright on the tarpaulin with my legs stretched out, I watched her naked body
as she almost danced across our improvised bed, then stepped off it to reach her bag. I
could see her figure in profile as she crouched over it and urgently fiddled inside. Relishing
the sight, I took in her sandy hair falling over her shoulders, down the curve of her back. I
also eagerly spied her caramel-tipped breast, her creased abdomen and her thick thighs,
hiding her wet vulva. I now risked touching myself too, just to cup one hand under my
scrotum. I held my thick and heavy erection upright, allying my fear that it was beginning
to sag with weary fatigue after so long.
Ashleigh seemed to me then almost like a wild animal, a flighty deer or a stealthy fox. It was
extraordinary that I’d caught sight of her like this in our musty old barn. Yet now that we
had found ourselves together here, nude and hot on the crude comfort of the canvas-
covered bales, it seemed we both knew instinctively what to do, just like a pair of savage
beasts. I was aware of my heart hammering again in my desperate anticipation of what I
felt sure was about to happen.
“Here we are,” she said breezily as she turned back toward me. She took a few bounding
steps, bringing herself close, planting her feet on either side of my hips. I’d noticed her
breasts bounce a little as she’d sprung up onto our platform, and now the bushy hazel fur
of her vulva was almost in my face, close enough to see the individual curls of hair, some
wet and stuck together. I remember she’d said I’d been drooling over her body earlier, and
now I felt I surely was again. She was already squatting down though, getting me to put my
legs together so that she could sit on my thighs, her knees up by my chest.
“Have you tried putting these on before?” she asked brightly, raising the little silver packet
to my eyelevel, but immediately went on before I could answer, “There’s a knack to it. Look,
it goes this way up, then we slip it out like this. Oh, yes, if you keep holding yourself up like
that, I can pop it over. See how I’m pinching the end so there’s space for your semen? Then
we need to roll it down carefully like this, making sure it’s even all the way around, or else
it gets tangled. That’s it, if you could just hold your head up, then that’s the last bit
unrolled.”
I was impressed at the skilful and efficient way that she’d got the condom onto me. I was
glad that she’d not hesitated, as I eagerly held my penis upright for her to roll the rubber
down over it. The initial delicate touch of the thin membrane against my head, then her
firm strokes down my shaft, felt sensational. I’d gasped and my erection twitched
uncontrollably while she’d been busily at work on me, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you okay this way around? It’s nice for me to ride on top. You can just lie back and see
how it feels, like I say. So this is it, I guess. Are you sure you’re ready, that you want to do
this, with me, right now?”
She’d encouraged me to lie back with a delicate prod to my shoulder, and I’d let myself
drop backwards onto the rough but springy tarpaulin. Now she was straddling me on her
knees, rising above me, once more like a statuesque and erotic angel, even though her face
was flushed and beaded with sweat. She held my woodenly firm penis casually in one hand,
her fingers around its shaft, its sheathed head resting on the pad of her thumb. Her other
hand was pressed flat over her pubic mound, her fingers splayed wide, spreading her
blushing pink labia so that I could see the small mouth of her vagina gaping open, glistening
wet.
“Aye, yes please. I’m ready. I swear it. You’re so kind,” I said with heartfelt sincerity,
panting in my arousal.
“Good,” she said simply, looking straight into my eyes with a strangely serious expression,
rising on her knees a little as she guided my penis to her oozing vulva.
I gasped as I felt the first warm contact of her supremely soft lips against my turgid head.
Then she looked down at her hands, as if to confirm what was happening, before pushing
down, grunting a little as she did. I groaned aloud as I felt the warmth of her vaginal walls
close around me. The sensation of slipping my rigid erection inside her was like nothing I’d
known before. I realised the pleasures of masturbation were a pathetically weak imitation
of this ecstasy. Meanwhile, Ash had moved her hands to my waist and was starting to rock
very slowly back and forth. She was grunting again even as she was easing me deeper into
her. Then she paused, breathing heavily with me, and I felt myself twitch involuntarily
inside her, dizzy with the pleasure of the sensations.
“Is that comfortable? Do you want to carry on?” she asked.
“Yes! Flip. Fuck, yes, aye!” I laughed in the joy of the moment, spreading my hands over her
thighs, anxiously covering my initial boyish exclamation with the dangerously strong swear.
She smiled smugly down at me, perhaps amused by my expletives, drawing her nails
sensuously down my chest, making me shiver inside her. “That’s the idea. This is us fucking,
for real. You’ve flipping done it now.”
She’d already started rocking back and forth again. I was once more transfixed, staring at
the round circles around her proud nipples on the mounds of her breasts, which quivered
with her movement. Then I raised my eyes higher, seeing the gold pendant around her
elegant neck, and feeling careless of its significance. I raised my gaze further to her pointed
chin, her parted glossy lips and her shimmering eyelids. She’d tilted her head back and
closed her eyes now, breathing heavily through her clenched teeth, as if seeking her own
private ecstasy. Her hips kept flexing hard against mine, pushing our pubic bones together,
keeping me deep inside her. Yet she also seemed to be balancing on her fingertips, her
fingers arched and splayed against my belly. Impulsively I tried grinding myself against her
in response, struggling to find her rhythm, but she pushed her palms down firmly, saying,
“Sush, be still. Just try not to let it go.”
But she’d tipped forwards now, planting her hands down firmly by my shoulders. Her long
crinkled hair was hanging down, brushing my face and chest. I could actually feel the gusts
of her heavy breath too, smelling the wine on it again as she kept grunting, quietly and
rhythmically. Once more, her eyes were closed, and her tempo was increasing, but I wanted
to soak up as much as could as I stared down her body. Her breasts were hanging down,
almost perfectly conical, crowned by her seemingly swollen areolae, her firm nipples
pointing straight down towards me. I saw how they shook, jerking in reaction to her swift
and forceful thrusts. And further down between them I could see the wide shadowy
triangle of her bush, creased under her belly. I watched her rise and fall in fast jerks as her
bouncing motion drove through her hips. As I did so, I caught glimpses of my own thick
shaft disappearing up inside her vulva. I found this sight, of how she was coupled to me at
her most secret and intimate point, extremely exciting. I realised then that small wet noises
were coming from down there too, and their rhythmic organic slurps only added another
layer of earthy vividness to what was happening.
I felt a delicious tingle rising from my testicles, spreading through my body, from my toes
to my scalp. I reached up to touch her mesmerising nipples as the divine sensation flooded
all the way through me. I knew that she’d only just told me to not let myself go this far, but
it was unstoppable now. It almost felt as if I was losing all thought, my mundane awareness
eclipsed by the overwhelming sensual bliss that was filling my body. Yet my hands and
fingers still moved, taking those quivering nipples and tweaking them, just as she’d shown
me to. Then I groaned again as I felt a gushing surge released from the root of my penis,
pumping deep into her body.
She gasped, then cried out, “Oh Adam, fuck! Yes Adam, yes! Come now, fucking come for me,
Adam, for our love!”
“Ashleigh, I’m sorry,” I exclaimed in a confused swirl of ecstasy, almost wailing in my
empathy for her potential disappointment. Yet I felt my whole body judder as the
irrepressible pulses of my ejaculation began in earnest. My world seemed filled with the
sweaty heat of her body, her fine hair brushing my face, and her magical vagina enclosing
my manhood so perfectly.
“Ben! Fuck, yes!” she panted urgently, looking down at me with her eyes wide, even as she
kept her rhythm, bumping hard against me, “You’re so like your brother, that’s all I meant!
Let me go a little longer, if you can.”
I felt dizzy and elated as my orgasm drained out through me. I became aware of my sweaty
back rubbing against the rough canvas, of my racing heart beating forcefully in my chest,
and the close fusty heat of the barn, as well as those sounds of our slapping genitals and
Ash’s urgent grunts. My heaving breaths were slowing as I got them under control, but my
fingers were still playing with Ash’s nipples. They seemed a little strange and rubbery to
me now, as if their direct connection to my own sexual pressure was broken, yet it still felt
nice to be helping Ash enjoy the moment.
She seemed to be working herself almost into a fury, pressing her pubic mound hard
against mine as I felt our coarse hairs rubbing together. She’d screwed her eyes closed
again, as she drew her head back, arching her spine. She was also gasping with a kind of
frustrated impatience as she rocked backwards and forwards, rolling her pelvis against
mine, as sharp and repetitive as a metronome. I couldn’t keep my fingers in contact with
her nipples as she jolted about, so I dropped my hands to her rest on her pumping hips. I
knew I was softening within her though, and before long the inevitable happened. In a
sudden instant, I felt myself slip out of her in a smooth wet squirt, almost as if she’d
squeezed me out.
She gasped, still as if in frustration, and pushed herself upright, rising onto her knees above
me again. “Fuck!” she exclaimed again, lifting her hands to her face and sighing heavily as
her panting breaths slowed.
I looked anxiously up into her eyes, now open again, framed by her hands. I noticed too
how much more deeply flushed her red cheeks had become as her wide mouth gulped air
down. I realised that she’d been striving for her own orgasm, and I felt I’d let her down by
coming so soon myself, or letting myself come at all. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“No, don’t be daft!” she scoffed, then she smiled, looking down as dropped her hands to my
belly, “That actually worked for you, didn’t it? I’m glad. But I’m the one who’s sorry
really.” She was suddenly gravely serious, looking straight into my eyes again as she went
on, “I’ve taken this way too far. I should never have encouraged you. This shouldn’t have
ever happened. It felt fun in the heat of the moment, each step of the way - teasing you,
seeing your cock, then showing you everything, stroking myself, and then doing it for real,
fucking you, making you fuck me. I just couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want to stop. But we
really shouldn’t have done this.”
“It’s okay,” I said, feeling confused as I lay naked below her, my body still in a blissful cloud
of physical contentment, my mind thinking how natural and right it had all seemed. I tried
to reassure her, “We said it would be our secret.”
“Yes, it must be, until our dying days,” she said dramatically. She’d lifted her arms,
stretching as she put her hands behind her head. This let me see the glistening wet skin in
the shadows of her armpits, droplets running down over the bumps of her ribs. She tilted
her head back, drew a big lungful of air, squeezed her eyes closed, paused as if in confusion,
then opened them wide again, blowing her breath out noisily. She stared into the space,
eyes gazing beyond the light that pierced the barn’s bricks. She was still breathing heavily,
still panting really, and I don’t know to this day if she was actually at that moment in her
own post-orgasmic haze. But after just a moment she seemed to have reached a decision,
and was obviously ready to put her plan into action, just saying, “Right.” Moving with
decisive confidence once more, she then rose up onto her knees and stiffly swung one leg
across my thighs.
“Let me help you take this off,” she then said practically as her breath slowed further,
putting both her hands to my groin. I propped myself up on my elbows to see what she was
doing. I didn’t argue as she put one hand right around my penis and scrotum, then carefully
twisted and pulled the condom off my limp shaft with her other. She held the grotty trophy
up for me to see, then said, “I’m going to use this to make a guarantee that you won’t spill
the beans.”
“You don’t need to,” I said, confused as to what she had in mind, “I’ve promised.”
“You might change your mind, unless I do something like this,” she said, a little grimly I
thought.
Then she rose unsteadily onto her feet and stepped across me, before stooping down to
find her discarded knickers. I enjoyed the sight of her beautiful body moving like a graceful
and exotic animal once again, but I had an uneasy feeling about what she might have in
mind. I watched, still baffled, as she gathered the lacy fabric of her underwear into her palm
and then put the open end of the condom to it. She lifted the limp rubber tube up, as if
tipping my captured semen out, before scrunching it into the cloth and rubbing it in. Then
she pulled the drained condom away, dropped it, and held her knickers out to me. I could
see the slimy smear of my semen, spread like mucus across their lace and narrow gusset.
“Look, do you see? There’s a different story now. You came inside me without a condom,
and it leaked out of my cunt afterwards, into these knickers.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, feeling uncomfortably like a little boy again.
Once again, moving without hesitation, Ash raised her knickers to the rafter where I saw
there was an old bent nail sticking out. She deliberately snagged the elastic hem of her
knickers on this, then tugged hard. Though I’d been looking at her stretching body - her
legs, her bush, her breasts, her armpit and her raised chin - I heard a ripping pop and felt
somehow alarmed. Then she stood facing me, her feet boldly placed apart, her chest raised
as she drew her breath in. She held up the soiled and damaged lace in both hands, gripping
it firmly, and pulled. There was another much longer ripping sound as she tore their front
panel in two.
“No, not your special knickers!” I wailed.
“Yes,” she said firmly, “You see I’m serious now? You’ve crossed a line. You’re not an
innocent anymore. There’s no going back, and this seals the secret for both of us.”
“I don’t understand,” I repeated feebly.
“If it turns out that you’ve spragged - that you’ve told your friends, your parents, your
teachers, your brother, anyone at all about us, about what just happened here - then I’ll
drop you right in it. I’ll say you forced me, that I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t take
‘no’ for an answer. Once we were alone up here, you pushed me down onto the hay and
lifted my dress. Then you ripped my knickers as I struggled, leaving them torn like this. You
got your rigid cock out and you rammed it up inside me. Maybe you didn’t understand
what you were doing, but you fucked me anyway, and you came. Then I pulled up my
ruined knickers, and your cum leaked back out into them. They could do tests, so they’d
know it was yours. It would be like you’d raped me. You’d go to a young offenders’
institute, then to prison when you were old enough, and rapists don’t get treated well in
prison.”
I felt my blood run cold as I lay naked and prone on the tarpaulin below her. “You wouldn’t
do that, would you?” I asked in a small, scared voice.
“No,” she reassured me, her mood suddenly shifting again as she set her spoilt knickers
aside, “I won’t, just as long as you keep this a secret. You are a sweet and kind young man,
genuinely. I have had fun, and I think you have too, even if we did maybe go too far. You
were picking things up quickly, I think you tried your best to be patient before you shot
your load, and you seemed to listen when I said what felt good for me, paying attention to
what I wanted too. You’ll make your girlfriends very happy I think, when they’re ready for
you. Also, genuinely, I still respect and trust you Ben, and despite my warning, I hope you
do me too. I want this afternoon to be a fond memory for you, and I hope that you’ll think of
me at my best when it comes back to you. But I am deadly serious when I say this must be
kept secret. You understand that now, don’t you?”
“Aye, I understand,” I said meekly, sitting up now and pulling my knees in, wrapping my
arms around them as I took in what she’d said.
“Please don’t be sad,” she said, squatting on her haunches before me, but the smile that she
gave me was the picture of thinly covered sadness itself.
“It’s okay, I know you’re right,” I said, feeling myself once again swelling into that maturity
that I’d felt earlier. It seemed to rise in response to Ash’s mood, as she moved beyond her
stern threat to reveal a vulnerable tenderness towards me once again. “I guess it’s maybe
hard for you, with my brother being away. I guess I wasn’t much of a substitute, but I’m
truly glad that you tried me out. You really have been kind to me, and I meant what I said.
This has been the best moment of my life. I understand how serious it is that we keep it a
secret though, so I understand why you want a guarantee too. I promise you, hand on heart,
you won’t ever need to use it.”
“That’s just what I’m hoping,” she said, smiling warmly now as she gripped my knee. I took
a lingering look down at her crouching body. I saw her pointed breast once more, just one
visible around her own smooth knee, its caramel pink nipple still proud. And looking down
I saw her vulva too, all its detail very clear from this point of view, rising between her
squatting thighs into her wet pubes. I noticed how her hair wandered along her outer labia
too, and how these cushioned mounds were stretched long by her position. Between them,
I saw that her full pink inner lips were still glistening with her smeared fluids, whilst her
vagina seemed loose and open between them.
I must have sighed heavily as she rose to her feet. “Come on,” she said in a kindly voice,
“I’ve got some wipes in my bag. We can freshen up just enough to stop the olds from
getting suspicious. Then we’d better get dressed, straighten things up and show our faces.”
She cleared her throat as if preparing for a speech, then said, “Four toms, two queens. I’ve
got their markings noted down. We lingered longer than we thought, but don’t you just
love watching kittens’ antics?”
I laughed gently at her rehearsal of yet another new story, now also rising to my feet. Then
she seemed to put on her practical persona once more. She fished a packet of medical wipes
from her bag, pulled several out, then offered the packet to me. I followed her example as
she wiped her face, though I noticed she carefully avoided disturbing her makeup as she
worked around her forehead, cheeks and jawline. Then she cleaned around her neck and
under her armpits, moving swiftly, before also dabbing around her vulva and just brushing
lightly over other points on her chest, belly and thighs. My eyes barely left her as I
mimicked her, being thorough but careful around my penis; the wipes’ chemicals stung a
bit as I pulled my foreskin up. Then she reached out to take the used wipes from my hand
to bundled them with hers. She recovered the discarded condom and its packet too, along
with her torn knickers, I noticed. Then everything got stuffed into the same pocket of her
bag that the used rubber gloves had gone into.
Stooping over our piled clothes, she picked up her bra and tossed my boxer shorts towards
me. I kept watching her as I stepped into them, still fascinated by all she was sharing with
me. She seemed unconcerned by my gaze as she wrapped her bra around her chest,
hooking it up and twisting it around, then lifted the straps over her arms, bringing the
triangular lace cups over her breasts. She smiled at me, seemingly with genuine
contentment, as she picked up her dress and passed my chinos to me. I felt a little sad for
her as she raised the dress over her head, pushed her arms through its short sleeves, then
let it fall down over her body. I’d realised she’d have to go home without any knickers
underneath it now, and I felt myself to blame for that. But even then I knew that some of my
sadness was self-pity, as it dawned on me that it was unlikely I’d see her naked again.
“Would you mind zipping me up again?” she asked in a kindly voice, to my mild surprise. As
I eagerly agreed, she turned are back to me and gave a coy look over her shoulder. I
concentrated just as hard as I had when I’d unzipped her earlier, but I felt genuinely like a
new man now. I’d had no idea what was coming then, but I’d been blown away by what I’d
experienced in her tender care. She’d taken me through a key milestone in my life, and I felt
profoundly grateful for that. Yet her performance after we’d done the precious deed had
also scared me. Taken in the round, I felt grateful and happy, yet also wiser and a little less
naive about the high stakes in this intense and primal game.
Ash had recovered a hairbrush from her bag now, and was vigorously at work on her long
sandy hair, watching me as I put my shirt on, and then as I began folding the tarpaulin.
“Thank you Ben, for everything,” she said thoughtfully as I worked, “I know I came on
heavy, before and after. But you did good. You’re not just a substitute for Adam, you know.
I meant what I said. I respect you, and it was fun being with you. If things were different, I’d
love us to do it all again. But you know we can’t ever let that happen, don’t you?”
“Aye, I know,” I said sadly, but I found it easy to reach for the positive, “Don’t thank me
though. You’ve been so kind. I should be thanking you, a hundred times more. It was the
most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced! You’re right about the seriousness of keeping it
secret, I understand. And I will always honour and respect you too, truly. You can count on
it. But meanwhile, we’ve just been watching the kittens, even if we did get a bit hot under
the stuffy hayloft’s tiles. Then you’re going to drive home with your mum and dad, and it
will all just be a memory.”
“Aye, something to keep us both warm and bring us sweet dreams in our single beds!” she
joked, shouldering her bag now that she’d finished with her hair and stuffed the brush
inside it.
We checked in on the kittens on our way out. The bowls were empty again, and the mother
was eyeing us suspiciously. I recovered the milk and cat biscuits, suggesting we feed her
again, but Ash suggested I just pour another saucer of milk for now. I did, then thought that
I should have checked it hadn’t spoilt in the heat. Ash watched me - showing a feline
suspicion of her own now - as I took a sip from the bottle, but I declared it was good. She
asked if she could have some too, so I passed it to her, then watched as she tipped it up
against her lips.
“Ugh, it’s so warm!” she said with a giggle, but then went ahead and lifted the bottle up
again to take several long gulps anyway. I saw the movements under the smooth skin of her
long neck as the liquid went down, then noticed that her eyes were looking slyly past the
raised bottle into mine. She tipped it back down quickly, making drops of milk splash up.
She laughed at this, dabbing her cheeks and neck. “We don’t want to spill anything now, do
we? To smear my lipstick or get a milky mess down my dress, after we’ve been so careful.
Here, did you want to finish it?”
I smiled, enjoying her playfulness, as I took the bottle and drained it. The warm rich milk
slipping down my own neck seemed deliciously sensuous, yet also somehow innocent. “It’s
like we’re back at primary school, isn’t it?” I said, “Drinking our morning milk like good
little children.”
“Don’t start regressing now,” she cautioned me, even as she laughed, “Some would say I
made a man of you up here, by what we did.”
“Aye, it feels that way. You’ve done that for me. I’ve stepped through a doorway. I’ll be
forever grateful,” I said pompously, though I was grinning broadly along with her.
“Come on, let’s get a move on,” she said sensibly, “Before you get stuck in self-satisfied
navel gazing, or whatever it is you’re gazing at.”
Once we’d got our boots back on, she seemed content to descend the ladder with her bag
now. A suspicious part of me wondered if she just wanted to keep a close hold on her
guarantee of my silence, in case I tried to steal her spoilt knickers away while she wasn’t
looking. I said nothing though as I followed her down safely, and we both blinked in the
bright sunlight when we got back out into the farmyard.
Our parents were all together in the kitchen when we went back inside, along with Granny
Pat, sitting at the kitchen table. They’d obviously been chattering away as they washed and
dried the dishes, with mugs of tea or coffee still on the table. We said hi, and I put the cat
biscuits away, setting the empty milk bottle to be washed up.
“We were wondering where you two had got to,” my mum said casually.
“I’m sorry, that’s my fault,” Ash said with an innocent smile, “I let myself get distracted.
Little kittens are just so cute, aren’t they? The way they tumble about, fumbling blindly, not
knowing which way’s up. But they’re all doing well, and mum too. You’ve got four toms
and two queens,” she went on, putting on her serious professional act once again as she
fixed her eyes on my dad, “I’ve noted done which are which by their markings. I’ll tear the
page out of my notebook for you to keep, but Ben should know too now.”
“Thank you very much,” my dad said, smiling warmly at her, “I’m glad you could get in
close. And no scratches?”
“No, we’re good,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable in case we were interrogated further.
Trying to find a way to change the subject, I asked, “Are the others in the front room?”
“Aye, your aunts are looking after Gran and Grandad,” my dad said, and I volunteered to go
and keep them company, feeling glad when Ash said she’d go with me.
“You were gone a while,” Auntie Grace remarked cynically as she saw us come into the
room. I noticed she was still holding a glass of wine rather than a cup of coffee. I was
already wondering if she might be a bit worse for wear.
“Aye, we stopped to watch the kittens playing,” I said as Ash and I found seats.
“No fault there then. Just so long as you weren’t playing with another pussy,” she replied
with a sly chuckle.
“Grace!” Ginny exclaimed with shocked censure, as I felt myself blush hotly, “There was no
need for that. I’m sorry Ben, Ashleigh. I rather think she’s been celebrating a bit too hard
today. We’re just happy you two had some time outside, away from all us boring old
fogies.”
“What’s that?” Ron asked, perhaps roused from his slumber by Ginny’s sharp word to her
friend.
“Ginny was just saying she’s glad the two young ones got outside,” Betty said loudly in his
ear.
“Quite right,” he gruffly responded, “‘Make hay while the sun shines,’ that’s the way! I
must say, I was very happy when Adam started courting young Ashleigh.”
“It’s just me here today Grandad, Ben,” I said loudly, “Adam is away at sea.”
“Yes, you’re right young man,” he said, clearly troubled by his confusion, “Well, things
move fast when you’re young, don’t they? I’m very happy for both of you too.”
“Nothing’s changed. Ashleigh’s still Adam’s girlfriend,” I said a little desperately. I was
beginning to see how a rumour might start right here. My own family might realise that
something had happened between Ash and me this afternoon. And if that idea got
established, Ash might feel she needed to demonstrate her innocence, that she was the
victim of something which had got out of hand. The possible consequences of that were
horrifying.
“Ignore the daft old duffer, dears,” Betty said with a calm and kind tone, quietly enough
that my grandad would miss it, “It’s hard for you at your age, Benjamin dear, I know. But
you and your friends are growing up fast. You’ll have a beautiful young woman like
Ashleigh on own your arm soon. And Ashleigh, my love, I do feel for you, with Adam away
for such a long time. You must lean on us, as much as you need. We’re all here to help, just
as if you were one of the family too. We’ve known your mum and dad simply forever, you
know that, and watched you grow and blossom almost as if you were one of ours already.
Oh dear, listen to me, I’m getting as daft as this other old fool now. Ignore me, my dear, just
know we’re here for you.”
“Thank you,” Ash said, a little humbly I thought, “You’ve all been so kind.”
“Nonsense,” Ginny said brightly, “We’ve been a bunch of boring old farts, some of us very
rude ones,” she added with a cross look towards Grace, “You’ve been a ray of sunshine for
us. Thank you for coming, for bringing a glittery sparkle to the party.”
I was surprised to hear Ginny echo the very same words that Ash had used herself earlier,
in private. I shot an anxious look towards her, meeting her eyes for a split second, then she
smiled warmly towards Ginny, saying, “I guess we find the sparkle where we can.”
“Quite right, girl,” Grace said gruffly, “Enjoy it while you can. Carpe diem, and all that.
Before it all sags and withers.”
“I’m sorry,” Ginny said with strained patience, smiling with resignation towards Ash,
“Maybe we’d better be getting home. I’ll go and see where Pat’s got to.”
She left, and Ash bravely tried striking up a conversation with Betty, asking if ‘carpe diem’
didn’t just mean exactly the same as ‘make hay while the sun shines.’ My gran seemed at a
bit of a loss, but got around to small talk about what schools taught these days by asking
how Ash knew so many clever words.
Ginny returned a few moments later with both Ash’s parents and mine. “Come on, love. It’s
probably time we were going too,” Naomi said to Ash as she came up beside her to hug her
shoulders. I felt another wave of sympathy towards her at that moment, realising suddenly
that she wasn’t much more than a child herself either.
“Thank you for looking after her, Ben,” Naomi added, smiling towards me, “I appreciate you
being patient with her, with those kittens. She can get so caught up in what she’s doing, in
whatever’s snagged her fancy, that she doesn’t notice others’ needs.”
“No problem, really,” I said, cautious of gushing out the deep gratitude that I actually felt
toward Ash, “It’s like Auntie Ginny and Gran said, I’m glad you could come, and help make
this a nice day.”
As I looked towards Ash to say those last words, I thought I saw a little rosy blush reach her
own cheeks as she lowered her eyes. But the chatter was already moving on as the crowd of
grown-ups began to say their goodbyes, with help being given to Grandad Ron and Auntie
Grace to get them out of their chairs.
We all ended up trooping out into the driveway together, while Ron took himself off the
downstairs loo one last time. My parents were hugging and kissing everyone as they parted,
sending Ginny off with Grace and Pat first, and of course I pecked their cheeks too. So when
it was Ash’s turn to be driven away by her parents, it was natural that I shook Tom’s hand,
pecked Naomi’s cheek, then put my hand on Ash’s bare elbow to lean in and kiss her cheek
too.
I thought we’d step apart immediately, but she surprised me once more by suddenly
gripping both my arms and planting another kiss firmly on my lips, right in front of our
parents. I had a sudden flashback to the sight of her naked, rising over me with glistening
armpits. I remembered that she still had no knickers on under her dress, and perhaps she
could even feel the air on her slippery vulva right now. I felt a hot surge to my cheeks as I
stood speechless before her, but she was already stepping back and turning towards their
car. As she walked away, she turned once more to give me a little wave and a huge grin.
Then she was in the car and her mum was pulling away.
As we all waved, my mum said, “Oh, she’s a bit of a tease, that Ashleigh. I hope she doesn’t
turn your head too, young Benjamin.”
“I think she’s nice,” I admitted meekly.
My dad laughed. “A man may dream, isn’t that right, Son?” he said, “Maybe that smacker
was half meant for Adam. But don’t you worry. You’ll get your turn soon enough. Find a
kind one who’s your own age, and treat her nice. Be patient, pay attention to what she
wants, and you’ll be smearing her lipstick too before you know it.”
I wondered at my dad’s words, if he thought ‘my turn’ meant having sex specifically. I was
aware of just how close he’d come to echoing Ash’s own words too. His last comment also
made me raise my fingers to my lips, aware that Ash may have finally let me disturb her
makeup after all, in that parting moment. Yet as I did so, I caught a surprising and
intriguing scent on my hand. In a flash I realised that this was the unfamiliar fragrance of
Ash’s most intimate place, still on the finger that I’d slipped up into her vagina.
I had thought my dizzy arousal at the time was partly brought on by her perspiring body,
by some subliminal perception of her close animal presence. Now I realised that what I’d
almost unconsciously identified as the natural odour of her hot skin in the musty barn
might actually have been the far more personal scent of her vulva, of her sexual arousal
specifically. It must have been filling the air around us while we’d been playing together,
intoxicating me almost as much as the sight of her naked body and the sensations that we
shared as we touched. I felt an immediate response within my own body at that moment
too, the scent triggering some deeply programmed reaction, as I felt my penis begin to
stretch in direct response to Ashleigh’s lingering presence. I dropped my hand quickly,
postponing a longer nostalgic recollection until I was on my own. With that scent as a
reminder, I was sure I’d be ready to masturbate and come again easily, perhaps several
times before it faded.
I was therefore a little distracted as we finally waved off my mum’s parents too and went
back inside to finish putting the special crockery away. I seized the chance later that
afternoon to shut myself away on my own. I tried to recall all the magical details of my
afternoon with Ash, letting myself come once more in my unscented hand. I knew it was a
very poor substitute for the excitement and stimulation of the real event, but it brought
some relief. I did the same again sometime in the dark hours that night, then during my
morning shower, and again the following evening too. My penis was tender and a little bit
raw from all my rubbing, whilst my testicles ached. Yet as long as I still caught that
lingering scent of her precious vagina, her cunt as she’d called it in a boldly earthy way, I
kept finding the pressure of my arousal returning.
As the days passed into weeks, my mind would still go back to Ashleigh’s naked body in
that stuffy hayloft, along with all that we’d done together. But gradually my daydreams
moved on, folding my genuine experiences into my fantasies about what we might have
done. My mental image of Ash also blurred and blended into those of glamorous women
from magazines and television, as well as real girls from my own peer group. By the time
Adam finally got back home, my memory of that sticky afternoon was almost unreal, and I
felt no awkwardness with him. He also stopped bringing Ashleigh home to the farm
regularly, so I rarely saw her. When our paths did cross, in the company of Adam and our
parents, I think we both worked to carefully ignore each other, trying to avoid eye contact
or any other sign that might give our secret away.
I had some anxious thoughts too, and even bad dreams. I would hear my brother come
home after seeing Ash and start banging around boisterously. I’d wonder then if he’d found
out the truth and was about to burst into my room to confront me in a rage. I could also
very easily imagine Ash suddenly revealing her nightmarish story to him or her parents,
telling them I’d forced myself on her. In my recurring nightmare, I’d picture her standing
before a shocked crowd, holding up the precious feminine underwear that she’d secretly
shown me, stained and torn. I’d feel sick as I tried to cry out that it wasn’t true, but my
throat would be paralysed, or no one would listen. In one especially vivid dream, I
remember she was standing as a witness in a courtroom, but she was naked below the
waist, so everyone could see her vulva, revealed as a great gash of wrinkled pink and tan
skin surrounded by bushy hair. I felt so sorry for her that I was weeping, for the humiliation
and pitiable shame that she was enduring, even as everyone there angrily scolded me for
bringing her into this degraded state.
That specific dream was perhaps linked to worse thoughts, as a part of me believed that her
fiction might actually be partly true. Perhaps Ash had never wanted things to go so far, so
perhaps in some sense I had indeed forced her to go through with it. In my moments of
doubt, I thought I had some sick perversion, which had driven me to entice a grown woman
into doing things that were not only illegal but morally depraved in one so young. Those
fleeting worries passed in time too though, perhaps as I became more confident that our
secret was safe, or perhaps just as the vividness of my memories of that fateful afternoon
faded.
A few months later I kissed the dark-haired friend of one of my schoolmates at a birthday
party. The next day I called her on the number that she’d written down for me, and we
made a date. When that went well, we got into a habit of seeing each other, meeting up to
go for walks, and learning how to kiss. It only lasted a few months, and it didn’t go any
further, but it was a start. I remember asking her if she’d let me stroke her breasts, perhaps
hoping that she’d let me do even more than that, but her firm red lights never turned to
green for me.
Maybe I was too hasty with her, or maybe she just came to realise that she didn’t fancy me
that much after all. But there were others, including Jamie, who lived nearby and was the
same age as me. I spent time with her, paid attention to the things she talked to me about,
helped out in her stables, and tried to find nice things to share with her. We kept seeing
each other through the winter and on into spring, celebrating our sixteenth birthdays
together in turn. And as time passed, she helped me to explore the deeper joys of sensual
love once more, playing in her pastel bedroom, surrounded by posters of horses.
Jamie and those who followed over the years gave me confidence and, I hope, some skill in
those intimate games that couples play. So that meant when I eventually found my one true
love, my life partner, I was ready to give her all that she deserved. And now that I have
finally fused my future path to the genuine light of my life, I am supremely glad to be able to
offer all the attention and pleasure that a man could hope to bestow upon his lover.
Yet in some ways I am still a naive beginner in this art, still blindly groping my way along
those shadowy woodland trails of shared sexual expression. Therefore as my true love and
I now explore those paths together, I am still looking forwards to learning ever more. On
our intimate journey, I eagerly anticipate new shared discoveries of delicious secret glades,
penetrating the precious mysteries of our deeper bliss together. Yet I will never forget that
it was Ashleigh Wright who first showed me how to take my initial confused steps on that
exciting path.
Chapter 44
Ben became aware of the early morning sunshine stealing around the curtains as he rose to
wakefulness. He felt a leisurely excitement as his gathering consciousness remembered
that it was his birthday, that the day he’d been planning with Marcie for weeks had finally
come around. The vague memories of his confused dream, gardening with a schoolteacher,
roped into harnesses together in the boughs of a great tree, leaked away as his eager
thoughts about the day ahead gathered pace.
Yet when he rolled over, tangling the duvet between his legs, he saw that Marcie’s side of
the bed was empty. He was sorry, as he would have liked to give her a cuddle, even if that
impulse was also selfishly driven by a desire to press his morning erection against her body.
He could feel that his waking penis was long and turgid, and he enjoyed the sensations of it
rubbing against his new pyjamas and the cushioned softness of the crumpled duvet.
However he was aware that he also needed to use it to pee, so once he’d enjoyed a final
luxuriant stretch, he rolled over and out of the bed, feeling some stiffness in his muscles
from yesterday’s long gym session as he rose to his feet.
He found the living room and kitchen empty, and the bathroom door firmly closed. He
knocked cautiously, aware that Marcie sometimes needed her privacy, and immediately
heard her urgently respond, “Don’t come in yet! I’m just sorting something out.”
Ben acknowledged, then turned to put the kettle on, wondering what she’d meant. Only a
moment later she emerged, wrapped in her blue silk dressing gown, her hair still bound
back in her nighttime plait. He noticed she’d turned the gown’s lapels up and tightly tied
the fabric strip of its belt around her waist, and he immediately realised that she’d very
deliberately covered herself up. In a flash of insight, he guessed that she may have
something else on underneath that she didn’t want him to see yet. He thought perhaps
she’d bought some special new underwear that she wanted to show off as a birthday treat
for him. If that were the case, he’d be very glad of it, and he silently vowed that he’d
patiently wait until she was ready to reveal her surprise.
“Happy birthday, Ben,” she said, smiling warmly as she stepped forward to wrap him in her
arms, her hands slipping across his bare back and around his shoulders. Ben held her to
him, feeling the warmth of her body and the soft pressure of her breasts through the slick
fabric against the skin of his torso. He bent his neck down to kiss her upturned face,
pressing his lips to hers with a lingering, sensitive sincerity. He pressed himself to her
through the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers too, and inhaled the sleepy scent of her hair
and body through his flared nostrils. Yet their mouths remained closed, and Ben took this
as a cue to draw back.
“Hmm, you caught me a little too soon,” Marcie murmured, then went on more assertively,
“Why don’t you go back to bed, once you’ve had your wee if you need it. Then I’ll finish
getting myself ready and bring your birthday morning mug of tea through. I think we’ve got
time for a bit of time for a lie-in before your special delivery turns up.”
Ben agreed as he checked the kitchen clock, seeing they had about two hours before the
grab truck arrived, then he used the bathroom with the door ajar while he heard Marcie get
on with making tea. As he made his way back to the bedroom, in compliance with her
instructions, he paused briefly, reaching his arm around Marcie’s waist from behind to give
her a squeeze and peck on her warm neck. Then he pulled away, strode through the flat,
and slipped back under the duvet, wondering if Marcie’s idea of a lie-in might stretch to
something a little more active and erotically expressive than her innocent phrase implied.
Though he knew that he couldn’t presume Marcie would make sex part of her birthday gift
to him, he still hoped they could have the opportunity to share the intimacy that would
make the day even more special.
As Ben lay back and relaxed amongst the white bedclothes, he rehearsed their plan for the
day in his mind, also thinking that Marcie seemed to have been gone quite a while. But then
he heard movement in the corridor and looked up to see her coming through the door with
two mugs of tea in her hands. Ben leapt up from the bed to take one or both from her hands,
yet her transformed appearance had left him speechless.
“Happy birthday, Ben,” she said again as she stepped forwards to hand over a mug with a
huge beaming grin, “Nurse Marcie will see you now!”
Ben had immediately recognised her outfit for what it was, and he was stupefied by the
effect that it had on him, with all that it implied about Marcie’s willingness to indulge his
erotic desires. Though the white dress with its short sleeves, low square-cut neckline and
outrageously high hemline may have been ambiguous, the broad navy belt, pinned watch
and square white cap tucked into Marcie’s hair, now brushed out in that dark frizzy halo of
hers, gave its role away clearly. This was obviously in no way a practical or functional
costume though, especially as Ben took in the exciting gap between the dress and the lacey
tops of the white sheer hold-up stockings that Marcie had also put on.
He realised she must have put a lot of thought and planning into this, finding a way to turn
the playful fantasies that they’d exchanged into a reality. Yet for all the salacious
excitement that her stereotyped sexy nurse character triggered, Ben also thought the outfit
had a kind of cute naivety, as if it had been pulled from a children’s dressing-up box. He
thought this may have something to do with the big blue buttons that ran up the front of
the dress, or the awkward way that the fabric gaped around her shoulders whilst getting
creased tight across her stomach. But then it dawned on him that the whole thing had a
subtly home-made appearance.
“Holy Mother, Marcie!” he exclaimed, automatically using her Catholic expletives himself
now, “You look amazing! Where did you get it?”
“Well, I found the belt and the watch in charity shops, and the tights are just from Next,”
she explained as she put her mug of tea down. Following Ben as he slipped back under the
duvet, she got onto the bed on her knees, continuing, “But I made the dress myself on
Shona’s sewing machine while I was chatting over coffee and babysitting upstairs. I
thought I just had to, as the ones I found in the shops looked so cheap and naff. I hope you
like it. The cap’s just a bit of the spare material dosed with fabric stiffener and glued to a
hair clip.”
“I love it,” he said sincerely, at a loss for further words as he took a sip from his own hot tea
before setting it aside to recline against the pillows.
She’d reached up with both hands to touch the cap and pat her hair as she knelt above him.
Ben soaked in the glowing smile playing on her lips, which Marcie had made up with a bold
glossy red lipstick since he’d caught her in the kitchen. He noticed that she’d also outlined
her eyes with makeup, so they seemed alluringly large as they sparkled behind her glasses.
Her whole appearance, and perhaps the significance behind it - that she had put a lot of
work into making herself sexy for him - had directly affected Ben at the most basic level. He
knew his arousal had started returning as soon as Marcie had stepped into the room, her
deliberate play to his libido immediately having the intended effect. At first he’d felt a little
guilty and ashamed of the cliche of his base lust for her in this role, especially as she’d
perhaps suppressed her own wishes to make his dress-up fantasy a reality. But now he
realised that she’d plainly wanted to provoke this exact response, to create a naughty
private scene for them to share, and he relished the pleasant physical reaction that she’d
induced.
So Ben boldly admitted, “You’ve turned me on. Look,” pushing the duvet aside as he spoke.
Though he revealed the bare skin of his flat stomach, his hips and thighs were covered by
his white pyjama bottoms. Despite this, his stiff erection was obvious beneath the thin
cotton.
“Well, I’m glad that you’ve recently picked up the habit of wearing something in bed from
your well-mannered girlfriend, Mister Osborne,” Marcie said, seemingly slipping into
character as she shuffled forwards and played the tips of her fingernails over his chest and
stomach, tangling with the black cord that Ben now wore her Maltese cross on, “A
professional young woman might not have known where to put herself if she’d suddenly
found your priapic manhood exposed under the bedsheets.”
“Does that mean you don’t want me to get it out?” Ben asked anxiously.
“Oh, you must know that nurses get to see everything in the end,” she said as she teasingly
ran her fingernails further down, over the long ridge of Ben’s poorly concealed penis,
making him twitch involuntarily with a delicious shiver. “Come along, we may as well get
on with it, stripping you down to your birthday suit as it were,” she added. Then she
gripped his pyjama’s waistband and began trying to pull them down, prompting Ben to lift
his buttocks up and wriggle about to help. His erection got caught in the cloth, but Marcie
confidently reached under the tangled fabric to grasp him, twisting and tugging his stiffly
swollen member, taking just a moment to free it. She left it pointing up towards his
bellybutton as she shuffled down on her knees, tugging the pyjamas’ legs down his thighs,
past his knees and ankles, and finally over his feet.
She spoke as she undressed him in this way, her improvised performance leaving Ben
uncertain of what to expect, “That’s it, better out than in as they say. Now you may feel a bit
anxious about that swelling, but it all seems very healthy to me, a clear sign of your body’s
fitness and the vigour in your internal operations. Rest assured, I’ve seen this kind of stiff
pink protuberance before, with all those sturdy blood vessels working hard. It’s just your
natural and expressive response to your senses’ external stimuli. I might say it’s actually
quite flattering for a woman in uniform to find herself cast as the one who provokes those
stimuli in a healthy young man thus. But I’ve read from your notes that you’ve had a few
problems with your lungs, so I imagine you’re in need of a little of our profession’s
acclaimed tender loving care.”
“Aye, that sounds good,” Ben said cautiously. He’d been watching her progress, guiltily
noticing how her dress gaped open as she leant forwards over him. Her breasts seemed
loose and wobbly under the stiff white fabric. As he watched, he realised she had no bra on,
though he could only make out her deep cleavage between the shifting soft curves and
creases of her mole-spotted skin, despite his hopes of catching sight of her nipples down
her gaping top. Though the way that he’d been peering at her was perhaps voyeuristic, he
did not feel too ashamed of the thrill it gave him, knowing she was willingly playing the
sexy role for him. He’d also glanced into the new mirror on the wall at the foot of the bed,
trying to catch a glimpse of her from behind too as she knelt over him, but had struggled to
see around Marcie’s looming body. Now that he’d wriggled his feet free of his pyjamas and
Marcie had shuffled back up the bed, still on her knees, he made a move to prop himself up
and reach towards her for a cuddle, and perhaps a peep over her shoulder into the mirror
too.
She immediately leant over to push him back onto the pillow with her fingertips to his
shoulder though, saying firmly, “No, don’t try to get up. Just lie back and relax now that
we’ve got you undressed. I’ll let you know if I want you to move. I hope you’re not going to
give me any trouble,” she added with mock sternness. But before Ben could reply, she slung
her knee over his hips to straddle him and lifted his penis with both hands around its base,
saying, “Hmm, this really does look very swollen. I can see now that it’s gone quite hard,
and it feels rather hot. I wonder if it doesn’t need draining off after all, to relieve some of
that pressure. I think you might feel a little relief if I were able to help you squeeze a good
measure of fluid out, am I right?”
Ben had noticed the way that Marcie’s home-made dress had ridden up as she’d knelt
across him. He’d been watching the exciting handspan of her thighs’ bare skin above the
white lace band of her stockings, but then he was viscerally delighted to also see the point
where her thighs met. It was immediately clear that she wasn’t wearing any knickers, as
he’d glimpsed the pair of small furry curves with that subtle groove between them. He
relished this glimpsed sight of the twin cushions of her outer labia, nestled in her dark
pubic hair, just visible in the shadows beneath the hem of her dress as it was pulled taught
and high on her hips by her parted legs. He also realised how close she’d brought her
uncovered vulva to his penis, and his arousal had surged in response.
Now he was rigidly upright in her hands, his foreskin already rolled back so that his red
glossy glans hovered between them. With Marcie’s appearance, her touch and her teasing
words, he felt as if he were almost already able to comply with her play-acting in reality,
ready to spurt out his semen with just a few twitches from her hand. Yet he wanted to
stretch this exciting moment out for as long as possible, so he said in answer to her
question, “You’re right nurse, but maybe not too soon.”
“I understand,” Marcie crooned sympathetically, “I didn’t mean to rush things and put a
strain on your heart or your lungs. You’ve been such a big brave boy already with all the
trouble you’ve been through. You can take just as long as you need with me here now. I’m
here to care for you. Mummy’s got her precious birthday boy home now, safe and sound.
Oh, my stupid mouth! Maybe you’d better come here and just give me a hug after all.”
Ben had been a little surprised at the weird turn that Marcie’s roleplay had seemed to take,
but he knew her rich and colourful imagination well enough now to not be too alarmed by
anything she said. He’d seen her cheeks flush red with a moment’s embarrassment though,
and wanted to comfort her, so he gladly pushed himself up from the bed to wrap his arms
around her ribcage. As he raised his knees for better balance, she dropped his penis to let it
stand up on its own between her thighs, raising her hands to his head to push her fingers
through his hair. She still rose above him though, firmly upright on her knees, so for once it
was her who had to bend her neck down to kiss him.
Ben felt the slippery gloss of Marcie’s lipstick as her mouth brushed his with a sensitive
delicacy, even as he was also distantly aware of her vulva hovering above his penis without
contact. But then their mouths opened and their tongues were eagerly writhing together
with mutual hunger and all-consuming passion. Marcie’s nails were raking the back of
Ben’s scalp, giving him exquisite tingling sensations, whilst his hands caressed the bare
skin of her neck and the top of her spine, and massaged her back through the thick cotton
of her skilfully made dress.
Suddenly he had a powerful impulse to touch more of her naked skin beneath that dress, so
he broke off their kiss to squeeze his hands between their chests, pushing his palms across
her breasts to reach the top button of her playful outfit.
“Oh, Mister Osborne, you do know your own mind, don’t you?” Marcie said in character
after a rapid gasp of air. She went on as he released the first button, “That’s it. They’re nice
and easy for tired clumsy hands, aren’t they? I imagine you’re hunting for Nursie’s boobies.
Well, they’re not hard to find, are they? Hmm, you’re nearly there now. Just undo one more
button maybe, then you should be able to pop one out at least. There’s no need for me to
get right out of my clean new uniform, I don’t think. That’s it, now put your mouth to my
nipple and imagine the healing nutrition of my milk. Ooh, yes! Suck in that warm and
creamy goodness, drink in your sweet medicine, my smooth elixir, let my breast’s
expression of pure and tender loving care fill your mouth and your belly. You must be
feeling your health rising from my soft bounty now. I feel it! I feel it almost oozing from me,
warm and nourishing, rich and healing, slipping down your throat with silky ease, restoring
your lungs, your body, making you glow from within! My sweet baby boy! Mummy’s special
birthday boy, nuzzling at my abundant breast, nursing on my warm milk, suckling on my
fatty flesh. Oh, Ben! Do I go too far?”
Ben had been glad to easily slip open some of the buttons down the front of Marcie’s dress
as she knelt across him, revealing the long cleavage between her breasts, which seemed to
be squeezed low in the handmade bodice. Ben was admiring the warm glow of Marcie’s
mole-flecked tan skin against the white fabric as he’d reached her belt when she’d
prompted him to stop and try lifting her breast out. He’d reverentially cupped one hand
deep under the heavy curve, feeling the silky softness of her smooth skin on his rough palm
and the textured edge of her areola against the edge of his thumb as he’d pushed the panel
of her dress aside with his other hand. Then he’d felt a warm surge of intensified arousal as
he’d seen her feminine fullness in his hand, the pattern of faint veins beneath her breast’s
thin skin, the broad stretched circle of her dusky areola beneath his thumb, and the soft
bump of her nipple. He’d eagerly followed her instruction to put his lips to her there,
shuffling down a little to press his face firmly against her as she knelt upright above him.
He’d then kissed and carefully sucked her while her words had flowed, playing with her
nipple with his tongue and lips as it seemed to grow and firm up in his mouth. He was
cautious of sucking too hard, recalling that soon after their first intense week together he’d
given her a lovebite across the edge of her other areola. She’d said she’d not minded, but it
had left her a little tender, and it just didn’t seem polite.
So in that moment, Ben had been gentle as he rhythmically drew the tip of Marcie’s breast
into his mouth, sucking and teasing her whilst her words had rolled on above him in her
crooning storybook way. He’d been aware that he was still powerfully aroused, his penis
flopping against his belly with its engorged weight, yet he’d been content to enjoy the
erotically charged thrill of the moment. When Marcie had mentioned an oozing flow
coming from her body, he’d imagined the warmth of her vaginal juices rather than her
imaginary milk, and he’d felt a sympathetic anticipation of his own orgasmic fluids rising
through his penis.
In this dreamy arousal, Ben had not minded when Marcie had playfully slipped over into
calling him her baby, recasting herself as a maternal character for her roleplay. But when
she asked her anxious question, he broke off to raise his head and reassure her, “I love your
words, you know. I love your creativity. I’d never confuse you with my mum really. You
know that too. But you are the Holy Mother for me, the sky goddess of our private world,”
he emphasised.
“Oh Ben, thank you,” Marcie said with a sweet smile, “And you’re my golden lion, my
resurgent Sun God. But remember you’re my patient this morning and I’ve got to take care
of you. I’m sorry my boob is dry really, when you can make your milky semen for me
anytime, but I love how hard you seem to try to squeeze something from me anyway. You
know it’s as much a turn-on for me as it is for you. But maybe I could get you to take a sip of
restorative tea if I held it to your lips so that you could let that sweet liquid slip down your
throat at least?”
Ben agreed with a smile, reclining on his elbows now as Marcie made a kind of shuffling
march on her knees, up towards the head of the bed so that she could reach his mug. He’d
caught a glimpse of her in the mirror now, and felt a guilty thrill to see her dress riding up
over her buttocks, far above the tops of her stockings. He was excited by the sight of the
crease that hid her anus, meeting the bare skin of her thighs. As she came higher up the bed
across his torso, towering over his chest, she blocked his view, but he spread his arms wide,
luxuriating in the sight of her indecent disarray. Her special dress was gaping open almost
to her waist now, her breast hanging out and shuddering with her movement, her proud
nipple and the fascinating textured skin around it glistening with his slimy saliva. And
further down, above the thick lace band that gripped her stocking-tops around her toned
thighs, the edge of her vulva was revealed beneath the hem of her dress, the delicious furry
bumps and the crease between them appealing to Ben’s hunger in a way that made his
mouth water, as if his sexual appetite had indeed got cross-wired with the oral gratification
of filling his stomach.
Marcie had reached across him for his tea, letting her breast swing above his upturned face,
and now she knelt upright over his chest again as she cupped the mug in both hands,
smiling as she brought it to his lips while he reclined beneath her. “There you are, you poor
thing,” she said, almost smirking in her joking playful tone, “Take a little of this tonic’s
warm sweet goodness to help build your strength back up. We’ll have you up and about in
no time, bursting with lively energy, busy as a beaver, if you let me take care of you.”
Ben gladly went along with her act, slurping the tea as she tipped the mug up a little, gazing
up into her wide brown eyes beneath her scholarly glasses. It was still hot, but not too hot
to take a big mouthful, and he saw the tip of her tongue touch her smudged lipstick as she
concentrated on helping him to drink it up. But then Marcie wobbled or misjudged how far
to raise it, and the tea spilled around his mouth, splashing onto his chest, where its heat
was enough to make him twitch.
She lifted the mug away from his mouth promptly as they both laughed. “I’m sorry about
that. Did that smart a bit, Mister Osborne?” Ben reassured her that he was fine, but she
went on, “I’d say I didn’t want to hurt you, but maybe you know that a little pain can be a
necessary part of the healing process, that a few pricks and tingles can actually help you
feel much better in the end, making that satisfying relief come more quickly and with
stronger intensity. But it seemed just a small drip got away there, and most things wash out
with modern detergents. I’m sure neither of us would mind if there are a few more spills
while you’re with me.”
Marcie had reached across Ben to put his mug down, then she’d picked up hers. As she took
a big gulp for herself, Ben struggled to find his own words. He wanted to play along with
her, whilst also saying what was on his mind, to tell her what he wanted to do for her right
now. He wound up saying, “It was fine, and more spills are fine too. Pricks and tingles
maybe good, if they pop up. But I was wondering, Nurse Tabone, might I try sipping
something else, some of your other medicine, from somewhere more intimate?”
“Oh Ben, you mean going down on me, don’t me?” Marcie asked, suddenly seeming a bit
taken aback. She explained, “But I’m meant to be giving you a treat this morning.”
“It’s no trouble,” Ben tried to reassure her, “It’s my pleasure really, you know that. Like
you said, it’s just as much a turn-on me for me as for you. I was thinking, well, I’d just need
to wriggle down a bit here, and we could do it like this, with you on your knees over me.”
“Yes, okay,” Marcie cautiously agreed as she took another sip of tea, looking down at Ben a
little suspiciously over the edge of her mug, “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind. I might
have to squeeze down a bit too. Well, to really put Vixen where you can get to her, I’d be
squatting on your face.”
“That would be good. I’d like it like that,” Ben said, trying to give her more reassurance,
even as he felt profoundly excited at the thought of such intimate contact. He’d
remembered something else though, so he asked, “May I use your new toy too?”
He thought he saw Marcie’s cheeks actually blush a little as she shyly replied, “Well okay, if
that’s really what you want and you don’t think it’s all too dirty, but it will need some gel
on it.”
Ben was glad that she’d immediately understood what he’d meant. They’d taken a special
trip to Ann Summers just last week, a few days after a leisurely evening in the flat together
when Marcie had carefully introduced Ben to each of her old toys. To answer Ben’s
curiosity, she’d explained how they worked, how effective they were, when she liked to use
them, and even demonstrated a few, before they wound up making love with no more than
Ben’s penis as Marcie gently rode him. But at the time, Ben had boldly remarked that he’d
noticed she had nothing that was specifically for anal stimulation. Marcie had then
cautiously come around to the idea that perhaps she could overcome her prejudice about
any of that stuff by trying out something suitable.
At the time, Ben had made it as clear as he possibly could that he was not suggesting that he
wanted anal sex with her. However, at the same time, a part of him had imagined that if she
were more used to including her other hole in playful intimacy, then one day they might
experiment with him penetrating her that way. It had already been clear to both of them
that she liked her sphincter being touched when she was close to her orgasm, and Ben had
reassured her then that he was very happy to help her enjoy those sensations. He even
candidly explained that it was a powerful turn-on for him too when he was touching her
vagina and her anus at the same time, when he felt those muscles squirm and flex in her
arousal. He even admitted he was excited to see her butthole above her open cwm when
she let him make love to her that way around. Marcie had learnt that he liked her touch on
his anus too sometimes, but she had been content to accept he was not really interested in
any penetration for himself, nor any attempt at direct stimulation to his prostate.
So they had planned a trip to the saucy shop in Eldon Square, then gone through with it,
looking at what was available in the secretive back corner of the store together. Ben had
been happy for Marcie to choose what looked like a string of spherical balls of increasing
size moulded into a soft rod of rubbery silicone, then she’d sent him away to look at the
dress-up costumes while she paid for it on her own, along with some special gel that turned
out to be extra slippery. As he recalled her shy excitement in the shop, he thought now that
maybe she’d had another unspoken plan, planting the seeds for a sexy roleplay experience
in his mind at the same time. They’d only used these so-called beads once together since
then, when Ben had helped Marcie simply masturbate to what had seemed to be a
satisfactory climax. Marcie had wanted to vigorously clean them afterwards, but she’d said
at the time that she’d enjoyed the experience and wanted to spend time getting used to
them, to explore the stimuli that they could give her.
Now she took the lead in finding the toy for Ben to use, quickly draining her tea and leaning
across him to put her mug down, then squatting down across him to bend over and reach
into the drawer beneath the bed. Ben was excited to feel the soft warmth and rough tickle
of her vulva coming down against his bare torso as he held her thick thighs in his hands,
massaging up from the edge of her stockings across her smooth skin to her buttocks, feeling
her powerful muscles straining to maintain her balance.
“Okay, where were we?” Marcie burbled on, making some attempt to find her role again as
she found the toy then twisted back up to show it to him with the gel, “Now I’m trusting
you with some specialist nursing equipment here, Mister Osborne. I won’t treat you to the
indignity of a rectal thermometer, but you must know the principles. This little bulb needs
to be nice and lubricated before we try popping it inside. And then, well, I’m sure you can
use your judgement about how far to ease it in. I’ll try to let you know if you’ve found the
right spot.”
Ben was aware that he was grinning like a fool as he reached up to take the items from her,
saying, “I understand, nurse. I’ll try my best, picking the right moment too. I hope it won’t
be too chilly.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Marcie replied, looking down her nose at him with a
seemingly sly appraisal, even as a twinkling smile played on her glossy lips, “It may even
help the procedure. Now, were you going to shuffle down the bed for me so that we can get
on with the task in hand?”
Ben agreed, then their conversation descended into half-spoken prompts and suggestions
to coordinate their manoeuvring into position. Marcie seemed to anticipate what they
needed to do as he tucked his arms in, briefly raising herself high onto her widely placed
knees with her arm braced against the head of the bed, letting Ben wriggle down beneath
her. Meanwhile he carefully placed the toy and its gel aside further down the mattress so
that he could reach them easily later, then raised his hands to Marcie’s hips to push her
immodestly short dress up higher as he luxuriated in her intimate presence. Her bushy
vulva became fully revealed beneath its rucked-up hem, nestled in the black-brown hair of
her pubic mound which hung immediately above his eagerly upturned face. He could
clearly see the parted groove between the long cushions of her outer labia and the wrinkled
skin of her inner lips buried between them, with the melanin-dark shading in their folds
contrasting with the paler pink parting at the mouth of her vagina.
In his position, Ben’s head was below Marcie’s knees as she squatted over him, lowering
her buttocks to her calves. He craned his neck towards her, and she seemed to anticipate
his needs, helping him as he strained upwards by shoving a hastily grabbed pillow under
his head. He relaxed against it as he saw her slip open the lowest button on her dress too,
letting its fabric hang a little looser around her hips. Then she began rocking back and forth
a little, perhaps to tease him, but more likely trying to fine-tune her position, to find just the
right position, as her pudenda came closer to his mouth. Ben thought that Marcie’s head
must be hanging down to see what she was doing, as he guessed she was leaning forwards
onto her elbows now. However, all he could see of her was the magical furry triangle of her
femininity, framed in the intersection of her creased stomach and her broad thighs, the
lacey fringe of her white stockings dimpling them with their tight grip.
By tipping his head back and raising his chin just a little, Ben could now easily bring the lips
of his mouth to Marcie’s far more intimate lips. He felt her soft hair tickle his nose as their
velvety warmth brushed his sensitive skin with a seemingly dry delicacy. He deliberately
inhaled deeply through flared nostrils as he nuzzled against her, savouring the soapy and
slightly peppery scent of her clean skin, even though he was slightly disappointed to
perceive only the faintest hint of her sexual parts’ musky body odour. With tender and
devout care, he tenderly drew his widely stretched tongue across her lips, feeling for the
parting that signified the rim of her vagina. Then, once he’d found the spot, he pushed a
little harder with narrowed firmer pressure, sliding from side to side a little. He felt the
folds of Marcie’s lips part for him as he gripped her hips, and to his delight he felt a slippery
silken liquidity to the inner edge of her vagina’s mouth.
His own arousal was a distant sensation, a profoundly comforting warmth that flowed from
his utterly assured erection, filling his being with deep satisfaction. Yet it was also a mere
background detail to his far more important and absorbing awareness of Marcie’s precious
Vixen, her pussy, her beaver, her muff, her snatch, her quim, her cunt, up against his face.
The idea of this intimacy filled his mind, the strong words striking his mind like thunder,
just as his senses were filled by the experience of her. His eyes were wide open, though all
he could see was the thick dark curls of her pubic hair and the creased skin of her lower
belly between her thighs, a few dark bumps of moles present even here. He was still
breathing hard through his nose, and he could definitely detect the powerfully arousing
intimate scent of her now, even as he tasted her vagina on his tongue. He could even hear
the subtle sounds of her arousal. Her slow heavy breathing was somewhere above him,
taking a measured pace as if she were concentrating on a physically demanding task that
needed patience, whilst there were subtle wet slurping sounds much closer, coming
directly from Marcie’s cwm, responding to but independent of his own lapping strokes.
Yet it was the physical sensation of their skin’s contact that really carried his attention, his
tongue and lips working rhythmically against her inner intimate lips and the taut edge of
her vagina, making a swampy mess all around her labia and his chin, which he guessed
came in no small part from her aroused lubrication as well as his own saliva. He knew that
the long lapping strokes of his broad tongue were steadily reaching higher, and he hoped
that some of that slippery greasy goodness was rolling over her clitoris now too, as he was
sure that he’d felt its firm raised bud between the rubbery folds her softly yielding lips.
He’d been resting his hands on her hips, stretched wide by her squatting position, though
he’d not been thinking much of what to do with them. Now though, he began to
systematically massage her buttocks, feeling the edge of the broad groove between them
with his fingertips. As he kept diligently lapping at Marcie’s other smaller and fleshier
groove, he tentatively quested deeper beneath her bottom with the fingers of his left hand,
until he finally brushed the tight bud of her anus. After briefly massaging it too, he decided
that it might be time to bring her toy into action.
Ben tipped his head back a little further and opened his mouth a little wider to make it
easier for him to keep the steady rhythm strokes of his tongue’s stimulation going whilst he
dropped his hands and groped for Marcie’s new beads and the gel. He was listening out for
any change to Marcie’s heavy breathing, but he could still hear her puffing air steadily, as if
through her clenched teeth, and guessed that she was still absorbed in the sensations
which he was giving to her. He grasped the silicone rod and laid it on his stomach, not far
from where his swollen penis rested, then with fumbling hands, he squirted a generous
slug of gel along it. The cool liquid inevitably spilt across his bare skin too, but that only
helped him to get the toy really greasy as he rolled it in the puddle he’d made.
He lifted the rod in his slippery left hand, its point aligned to his middle finger, then
brought it between Marcie’s buttocks. Without hesitating, he squeezed its first bead against
her anus with his fingertip, bracing his right hand against her at the very junction of her
thighs, his middle fingertip on her perineum to help him blindly guide the toy into place.
Then, as he made some effort to deliberately suck on her clitoris beneath his tongue, he
pressed the first small sphere firmly against her.
It popped inside easily and he heard her gasp somewhere above him, bringing him delight
as well as a warm surge of sympathetic arousal to think that his action had given her
pleasure. He gave an experimental wiggle and twist on the toy, then pushed another bead
in, and then a third. His greasy fingertips were on the edge of her sphincter, and he could
feel the increasingly large balls pass as they slipped into her. He was trying to keep track of
the number that he’d inserted, but he wanted to practice easing them out as well as in, so
almost as soon as he’d squeezed the fourth ball in, he gently tugged on the toy and felt it
pop back out again smoothly. Marcie gasped again at this, then began making a subtle
keening noise with each of her breaths as he twizzled and played with the toy, even as he
kept lapping and sucking at her clitoris.
Ben wondered if she might be closing in on her orgasm now as he continued with his face
firmly planted to the swampy mess that they’d made around her vulva, still breathing in
the potent scent of her through his nose where it was squashed against her furry pubic
mound. So moving with some urgency, he pulled his right arm in tight and squeezed it
between her thigh and his chest, bringing his hand to his chin and finding the lips of her
vagina with his cleaner fingertips. He pressed his middle finger to her, discovering that it
slipped inside her easily, so he took some care and patience to try pressing two fingers in,
and then three, tucking his index and ring finger tight under his middle finger to squeeze
them all past the firm muscles of her silky vaginal walls.
Meanwhile, he kept massaging the area around her clitoris with his mouth, feeling the folds
of her labia as well as the nub of flesh between them rolling over his tongue as he gently
sucked on them, without worrying about the occasional slurping noises that he inevitably
made. Leaving the beads firmly embedded in Marcie’s anus for a moment, he also wiped up
some of the puddle of gel that had spilt across his belly with his left hand, then rubbed the
extra lubricant around the toy’s silicone shaft, massaging her taut sphincter muscles too,
making her cry out faintly.
Now, with his fingers inside her and her clitoris in his suckling mouth, he eased the beads
in and out of her again, going right to the end of the rubbery chain before drawing out all
but the last two or three balls. He was unconcerned that there might be some faecal
material on the toy now, just so long as he kept all contact with it separated from her
vagina. He was just grateful to be so close and so intimate with Marcie, serving her sexual
gratification in the most sincere and stimulating way that he possibly could.
The vocalisations that Marcie had been making with her ragged breath had been steadily
increasing in volume, Ben had noticed, almost becoming cries of anguish. Now, as he
groped against the inner wall of her cwm with his tightly bunched fingertips and slowly
drew out the beads one more time, he felt the muscles of her vagina and anus giving a
rolling spasm, crushing his fingers and making the whole chain of beads suddenly slip out.
He’d guessed what was happening before he heard Marcie exclaim her habitual, “Qaddisa
Marija! Aah!”
As Ben lapped his tongue eagerly against her vulva - sucking as much of her loosely folded
skin into his mouth as he could, feeling the pressure of Marcie’s pelvis bearing down
against him now - there was sudden surge of warm fluid that caught him by surprise. Most
spilt across his cheeks and chin, but some filled his mouth too, and he reflexively swallowed.
He was only vaguely aware of the liquid’s faint salty taste, which was also slightly bitter,
almost like a very thin but pleasantly heated cabbage soup. What he felt far more intensely
was a powerful sympathetic yearning for his own ejaculation. Even though they’d been
ignoring his stimulation, at that moment his orgasm felt so close that it seemed as if his
twitching penis could have spontaneously squirted its gift right across the bedsheets, or
across Marcie’s backside and the tangled disarray of her dress, and he would have been
profoundly glad if it had.
After her initial loud exclamation, he’d heard Marcie almost whisper the phrase, “Ooh, itlob
għalina midinbin!” Then the tension seemed to drain from her body.
Ben recognised the phrase as he pushed his head back into the pillow and withdrew his
fingers, knowing that Marcie wouldn’t want any more stimulation now. He echoed its
translation in a low reverential tone, “Pray for us sinners indeed,” then continued the
prayer that he’d newly learnt, “Now, and at the hour of our death.”
Chapter 45
Ben grasped Marcie’s dirty toy in his left hand and tried wiping his chin with his right, even
though he knew that his fingers were still slick with her vaginal fluids. The smell of her
arousal was all about him now, and that was undoubtedly contributing to the urgent
pressure that he felt his wooden erection. He was wondering how he might extract himself
from his tender trap between Marcie’s thighs and what might happen next, but suddenly
Marcie was in urgent motion above him, pushing her bottom up as she rose up to kneel
over him again. Then she was rocking back and forth as she walked herself down the
mattress on her knees, bringing her costume’s belt and then her breasts into his line of
sight. Ben was excited to see these hanging down in a muddled way between her dress’s
unbuttoned bodice, revealing her nipples and stretched areolae, yet he wanted to see her
face too. She was arching her spine, curling around to try and see him he realised, so he
craned his head even further back against his pillow to look back into her upside-down face.
Her mouth was parted as she recovered her breath, her cheeks were flushed, and her
forehead seemed to glisten with perspiration. “Oh Ben! That was intense. Are you okay
down there? Holy Mary! I just realised, I leaked on your face, didn’t I? I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry,” Ben reassured her with a broad grin as a look of shocked dismay flashed
across her face, “It’s all good. It was intense for me too. I nearly came, without even
touching myself. It’s wonderful to be so close to you. I’m glad it worked, with your new toy
too. It worked okay?”
“Mother of God, yes! But my legs are trembling. I need to stretch out,” she explained, then
immediately pushed out one leg and swung it over his prone body, crashing down onto the
bedsheets beside him. Ben rolled towards her, still anxiously gripping her toy, and she
threw her arm around his shoulders to cuddle up to him, cradling his head to her chest. Ben
nuzzled against the edge of her breast, relishing the sensation of her soft skin against his
sticky face as she went on explaining, “I thought I wasn’t going to make it to the big O,
because I was worried about squashing and asphyxiating you. You are breathing okay now,
aren’t you?”
Ben muttered that he was fine, then she went on, “I felt a bit tensed up too, in that position
with the belt tight and this messed-up outfit flapping about. But you just seemed so calm
and confident down there that I wanted you to carry on, so I admit I ignored my worries
about squashing you and just focused on the feelings. When I felt you put that thing up my
bum I almost panicked. It was so extreme! But the deep waves were just getting stronger
and stronger. I couldn’t let them stop. I felt the little firm balls slipping in and out, almost
like a shrill flute’s happy melody accompanying the stirring music of the main orchestra,
swelling as the light was growing, with your fingers inside me too, pressing me and filling
me up. Then it all just burst into that shining mist and I forgot all about you, I’m so sorry!
And it turned out I let something burst for real too, didn’t I? Did it get in your mouth? Did it
taste horrid?”
“Aye, it got in my mouth a bit, but don’t worry,” Ben breathed heavily, craning his neck
back to look into her anxious eyes, “There was maybe just a tiny drip, and there wasn’t any
taste really. It was no big deal, quite nice in a way, quite a turn-on, truthfully, to know you
could really let go. What’s important is your pleasure though. It sounds magical. I’m glad I
could help do that, to be so close, being there for you at that moment. It’s humbling, if that
makes any sense. It’s like our private Holy Communion, like you’ve said before, right?
Anyway, you’d warned me there might be more spills. It’s all good. It’s wonderful, the
best!”
“Well I’m glad you see it that way,” Marcie said with a sigh, “But my toy must be a mess too.
Have you got it there? Wrap it in a tissue for now. And poor you! It’s your birthday and this
was meant to be your treat, the spills were meant to be yours, but all that’s happened is
you’ve ended up just getting my pee in your mouth and maybe even my poo on your hand.
It’s disgusting! And I’ve not been helping you to squeeze your own sweet unction out, to
squirt it up for your tender loving nurse. Will you let me care of you now, to finally give you
the chance to relieve that pressure? I’d gladly try to draw out the flux by sucking it into my
mouth, just as you’ve done for me. You know that, don’t you?”
Marcie had rolled away from his as she’d been speaking, reaching for the box of tissues that
they now kept by the bed, which she’d had already used several times over the last few
weeks to mop up Ben’s semen. Now she tugged one out to pass to him for her toy, then
once he’d sat up and palmed the offending object onto the floor be beside the bed, he
pulled out another to wipe his slimy hand. As he listened to her slip back into character, he
was indeed aware that there may have been traces of poo in the smeared gel, just as she’d
said, but he put such thoughts from his mind as he pushed his pillow back up the bed,
briefly interrupting her to reassure her that nothing was disgusting here. Deep down he
was eagerly anticipating his own sexual gratification and cautiously keen on Marcie’s
euphemistically described offer to give him fellatio, even if she perhaps thought to repay
him in kind for his cunnilingus.
“Okay,” Ben said tentatively by way of answer, lying on his hip to face her now, “But you
know you don’t have to do that, right? I’d be just as happy, well, to come in your hand for
example, or even just do it myself now.”
“Don’t be daft,” Marcie chastised him as she wriggled back to recline against the pillows,
“You said that you like giving oral sex to me, and now I’m saying again that I like giving it to
you. I like the way it feels to have you warm in my mouth, sucking your shaft as it throbs
with life, and you know how exciting it is for me to taste your smooth creamy semen, even
just to taste the saltiness of Roddie’s plummy head. That’s me really making love to you
when I put my lips around your manhood you know?”
“Aye, I guess I do know,” Ben admitted as he idly stroked her thigh, feeling increasingly
excited at the thought now.
“So why don’t you freshen your mouth with what’s left of your tea then kneel over me, like
I knelt over you?” Marcie prompted. Ben agreed, rising to his knees and shuffling up the
bed to drain his mug of tea just as she’d suggested, finding it tepid but refreshing. He
noticed Marcie glance past him as he moved, and guessed that she too was checking the
mirror, where his bare backside must have been on proud display. A glance was all she
took though, as she then began stacking the pillows up against the headboard to lean on as
she refined her plan aloud, “Well, maybe not just like I did, because unlike mine yours
sticks out, doesn’t it? If you come up to me here like this, would that work? Oh, and let me
just sort out this unhelpful tangle!”
Ben was already kneeling beside Marcie as he set his mug aside and she fidgeted into
position, arranging herself so that she sat with her back upright to the pilled pillows at the
head of the bed. He thought he understood her intention as she put her hand on his hip, so
he lifted his knee over her outstretched legs, still wrapped in her white stockings, to
straddle her hips, kneeling above the matted triangle of pubic hair that he could see tucked
between her thighs. He was unconcerned that in his own complete nudity, she could clearly
see how his tired erection hung down thick and long, its foreskin pulled back to expose his
somewhat shrunken glans, now smeared with his body’s leaking lubrication. He knew that
Marcie would not think him impotent if he was temporarily a little soft. As he still felt the
weighty swelling of his long-endured arousal, he guessed it would only take a moment of
intimate attention for the pressure to return and make him once more genuinely erect. So
he felt calm as he knelt on the mattress towering over her, his gross member pendulous
before her eagerly smiling face.
Then he realised that her exclamation of frustration was aimed at her partly unbuttoned
and twisted dress, still bound around her by the wide blue belt. She unhitched this and
undid the two buttons that were still fastened with impatient but effective movements,
then opened the dress wide to fully expose her chest and belly, wriggling her arms to
quickly free herself of its short sleeves.
“That’s easier,” she said in a light chatty tone, “I can move about more now that things feel
a bit looser, in the booby department especially as I’m sure you’ll appreciate. You can pet
them more easily now if you want. But look at poor Roddie, so neglected on his Daddy’s
birthday. It’s okay, Mummy has got you now dear. Have you been weeping? We’ll soon
have you flushed out properly. Oops! There we go, that’s better already, isn’t it?”
Ben had been blown away when he’d first seen her in her fantasy nurse’s dress that
morning, but now he was deeply gratified to see her slip out of it. As he looked down at her
he was indeed drawn to the sight of her breasts, which seemed to hang down low and wide
against her chest under their weight, her nipples proud on their curved edge. From his
angle of view above her, Ben could see nothing of their lower curve, and only the top edge
of her dusky pink areolae, foreshortened to a lenticular profile. Yet this intimate sight was
enough to revive his arousal, especially when he acted on her suggestion to touch her,
brushing the back of his right hand’s fingers against one nipple.
His penis was therefore already growing and rising when Marcie lifted gently in her small
hand, examining the slippery fluid that has spilt from his urethra. When she touched this
with one fingertip of her other hand and smoothed it around, he felt a much stronger surge
of arousal. He let himself tense up in response, briefly making his erection bounce up to its
full size, his glossy glans swelling to a taught cherry red fullness, prompting her mild
exclamation of surprise.
By Marcie’s final rhetorical question, he understood that she’d noticed all this, perhaps
understanding the warm satisfaction that his erection gave him. She could hardly miss the
signs, he felt, as he loomed over her, grasping the top of the wooden bedhead firmly in both
hands now to keep his balance. His manhood was sticking straight out towards her face,
less than a hand’s breadth from the tip of her nose. He felt lewd and selfish to be exposing
himself to her in this way, like a dirty untamed dog disgracing himself against an elegant
gentlewoman’s leg at a vicar’s tea-party, but he reminded himself that she’d been keen to
do this, and he’d been delighted to be even closer to her genitals just moments earlier.
He’d expected more of her imaginative chatter to come as he struggled to find suitable
words to feed into her light-hearted roleplay, but she had her own surprise for him. Her
hands slipped down to hold his shaft firmly, then without any hesitation, she tugged it a
little closer then popped his turgid head into her wide mouth.
Ben saw this happen, but the explosive physical sensations told their own story. Her soft
lips were clasped firmly around him, well below the collar of his shaft. He thought he could
feel her firm rough palate on his head, but she was obviously guarding her teeth beneath
her lips. Then he felt an astonishing thrill as he guessed she sucked and rolled her tongue
right around his glans. He felt his whole body react, ready to spasm and thrust as his heart
raced. He felt compelled to heave a powerfully panted breath, yet he knew he must relax
and avoid trying to thrust himself down Marcie’s throat.
He gazed down at Marcie, at the cloud of her thick dark brown hair, still with the playful
piece of white fabric that she’d made for him pinned there, and at the top-down profile of
her face. He could see little more than the curve of her forehead, her full eyebrows, the
frames of her glasses, and her proud nose, almost touching the thick shaft of his rigid
manhood as it disappeared into her open jaw and she made small movements around him,
yet he felt her intense focus on him, and he knew how lucky he was.
Here he was, on the day he turned twenty-six, in bed with a woman who loved him without
inhibition, who was letting him kneel over her to put his penis in her mouth. Yet her being
was so much larger than that, filling the long years before they’d met and stretching away
into their shared future. She might become a professor herself, leading a university
department, speaking at conferences and teaching hundreds of students, or she might
become the inventor of some unintelligible database that changed the lives of countless
lawyers and made her rich. In either case, she might meet genuine lords and ladies,
millionaires and television personalities, at posh dinners or in smart offices. Yet here she
was, spending her time now to give him this blissful experience, indulging his most basic
animalistic urges, serving his body sexually, gratifying his deep-rooted desires in a
profoundly intimate and private moment. Whatever she achieved, she’d carry a part of him
with her, in her memory of this instant, of her consuming his body.
She’d spoken of her old faith’s Holy Communion, and of course she’d used her prayer to
Mary in the moment of her own extreme. So now Ben saw her almost as a heretical
religious devotee, honouring the primal gods of nature, the generative power of Mother
Earth, and his masculine virility. He remembered that they’d agreed they were embedded
in the eternal currents of life, celebrating those powerful forces in the playful yet serious
way that was their shared secret spiritual world. He’d felt her prayer echo in his mind,
“Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.” They were base creatures,
embedded in their messy bodies, forever falling below the pure angels of their imagination,
and they were mortal, but they were blessed by the vision of eternal divine grace.
The image of Marcie cradling his prone body in the gym flashed through Ben’s mind. She’d
been ready to stay with him at that moment when his life was in the balance, even as a
stranger, and without her he might have died alone that day. He realised now that she
could also have therefore taken on another kind of role for him, as that sacred usher at the
end of life, the dark Angel of Death. She was the feminine version of the thoughtful bony
character that he’d been reading about in the jokingly written Mort, soft and beautiful,
merciful and sympathetic, but with an absolute authority that was non-negotiable, ruling
all life by her presence at its end. In that moment he knew he was at her mercy in a
profound sense that went beyond his physical vulnerability. He was ready to give himself to
her, to sacrifice his whole being if she willed it. His soul was in her care, and he had
unquenchable faith in her ability to continue guiding him into his new life after his brush
with death.
So Ben felt utterly in Marcie’s power as she held his shaft, still gripped in her hand, low
down, her fingers wrapped around his scrotum, her other hand clasping his buttock. The
rolling sucking sensations of her mouth around his glans were mind-numbingly exquisite,
and he knew that it was only because of his deliberately slow and calm breathing that he’d
held out so long without ejaculating. But suddenly he felt her lips slide over his head as she
pulled back and released his penis, letting it spring up with the thick curve of its extreme
rigidity as she leant back slightly.
As Ben looked down, he felt the delicious thrill of the cool air whispering around his glossy
purplish head as Marcie’s panted heavily. She seemed to be staring straight at his erection,
rising before her face as she kept her firm grip on the base of his shaft, and he heard her
murmur, “Ara l-Ħaruf ta’ Alla. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb!”
Then she pulled him down to engulf his head in her mouth once more, now eagerly sucking
and using her tongue against his frenulum and collar in ways that Ben could only guess at.
He’d thought her words may have been part of another prayer, but conscious thought was
fast slipping away in the heart-racing thrill of the moment. She gave him such intense
sensations that he jerked involuntarily, straining to hold himself still with arms braced,
hands gripping the bed’s headboard, still resisting the urge to thrust himself forwards. Her
hand on his buttock was squeezing, kneading him compulsively, and her fingers seemed to
be groping toward his own anus now, her fingertips massaging the crease beneath it with
firm rhythmic pressure that was surely reaching his prostate. Then he became aware of the
muffled grunting moans coming from Marcie too, rising in volume as she breathed heavily
through her nose, and it was these that seemed finally to tip him over the edge. They
triggered a pulse of tingling pressure within his testicles, from the root of his erection,
which rose through his whole body in a surge of profound satisfaction, the ultimate
expression of his being.
Only then did feel his semen spurting from his penis into the enclosing warmth of Marcie’s
mouth, the first thundering pulse making his body spasm. Even as the pleasure of his
release overwhelmed him, he knew this moment of euphoria was shared, that its dizzy
extreme was only thanks to his profound sense of loving union with this goddess made
flesh, whose name he uttered with devout adoration, “Marcie!”
He heard his lover’s breath become louder and more rapid through her nose, even as there
was a new throbbing sensation as if she were sucking harder, yet her lips seemed secure
around him as a second pulse pumped through his rock-hard penis. Even as his conscious
will retreated, he kept the rigid control in his locked muscles to stop himself from pushing
and choking her. Then the twitching spasms came faster, rising irresistibly with his gasping
breaths into a dizzy haze of bliss, before slowing and fading as his orgasm flowed out
through him, and through his acutely intimate connection to Marcie.
His heart was hammering, and his breathing was heavy, but he recognised with relief that
there were no obstructions within his chest. He looked down, softening his grip on the
bedhead, his eyes confirming what he felt in his sensitive and softening penis, that Marcie
still had him gripped tightly in her mouth. Though the sensations were exquisite, he knew
they couldn’t last, so he dropped his right hand to brush her cheek and tenderly hold her
chin as he gently pulled back. His long glossy member slipped from her mouth, and he saw
then that its thinning shaft was smeared with vivid red marks. He had a moment of panic,
thinking that it was either his or Marcie’s blood, then realised it was merely her lipstick.
He sank to his haunches to look straight into her eyes to say, “That was wonderful, Marcie.”
But he realised as she smiled with those glistening yet smudged red lips that she was
keeping her mouth deliberately sealed, and he guessed what she was doing. So he leant
forwards to kiss her, his jaw limp to part his own mouth, feeling the slippery warmth of her
questing tongue’s tip as their lips joined. Cradling his hand behind her head now in a
gesture that she mirrored with her own free hand, he held his mouth firmly to hers as she
opened wider and let his own tongue in. His guess that she’d not yet swallowed his semen
was immediately confirmed as he found the slippery mass filling her mouth. He relished its
distinctive fresh taste - something like runny egg yolk or a liquid mild cheese, just as Marcie
had said before - as he rolled his tongue over hers, drawing a gout of the gooey fluid into
his own mouth, then passing it back to her, resisting the urge to swallow and let it slip
down his own throat.
Their kiss became passionate as they both breathed heavily through their noses, their
hands gripping each other’s skulls as their fingers got tangled in the other’s hair. Their
greasy lips were pressed in firm close contact, their jaws wide, their tongues deep in each
other’s mouths around the slippery clot of vital slime, moving with a powerful urgency as
they shared the salty taste of his nourishing sperm. Ben licked her teeth and the insides of
her cheeks, eager to find caches of semen that had squeezed themselves up there, and she
sucked his tongue as if jealous of him for taking more than his share. Yet their hunger for
each other around the shared gift of his ejaculation made their motion increasingly chaotic,
and suddenly Ben felt a great slop of warm fluid slip away down their chins.
He pulled back, finally swallowing what remained in his mouth, to smile at Marcie as she
laughed, saying, “Thank you, for sharing.”
Ben briefly lowered his eyes and saw the long runnel of spilt liquid sliding down her chest
now, trickling down her wide cleavage across the edge of one breast. Perhaps following his
eyes, Marcie brought the hand that had been resting idly on his thigh to the foamy off-white
mixture of semen and saliva to rub it over herself, lifting her breast and making the delicate
skin beneath her nipple glossy as her hand passed over it, before her breast fell back down
with its own weight. Ben took this powerfully erotic moment in with his quick glance, then
raised his eyes to Marcie’s again as she responded, “No, thank you, Ben, for letting me take
you like that. You did very well to remain so calm and still while Roddie got so big and hard,
jerking about like he was trying to escape. And I was pleased to see I managed to smear my
lipstick around him nicely, like I’d put my mark on you, staking my claim against others
who might pass by that way. And don’t all boys dream of getting their girlfriends’ lipstick
on their little fellows?”
“Aye, maybe,” Ben admitted as he stroked her cheek tenderly with the curled fingers of his
right hand, grinning like a fool, conscious of keeping his dirtier hand away from her face.
Her mention of a visible sign of her claim on him made him think of a wedding ring being a
public symbol of that, but he knew he didn’t want to discuss that right now, given his plans
for the day. Then he asked, “But what was it you said, just before I came? Something about
a lamb supper?”
“Oh Ben, it’s so naughty!” Marcie explained with a twinkling smile, “You’d mentioned Holy
Communion, and it’s a line from the Mass that I heard so often as a girl. ‘Behold the Lamb
of God,’ like the Agnes Dei, taking away the sins of the world, granting us peace. I felt so
cheeky saying it. I was surely being blasphemous, but it seemed somehow right too, as a
mark of respect for your life-giving phallus and a way to honour our love.”
“Lamb of God are a metal band too,” Ben admitted, sympathetic to Marcie’s imaginative
devotional prayers, but unsure whether he could help her adapt her childhood religion to
their personal magical rites. He was uncertain about whether he could describe the
profound yet dark feelings that he’d also felt in their intimacy.
“Well, you know I like the other band called Lamb too, but that’s not what I was thinking of.
I imagine your metalheads are playing with the exciting thrill of blasphemy too,” Marcie
speculated as Ben swung his knee across her and slumped down to cuddled up beside her
on the pillows. She put her arm around him as she went on, “You understand the Lamb is a
synonym for Jesus, right? For his male body. He’s the sacrifice, the new deal to replace all
the real animals that were killed and burnt on Old Testament altars.”
“Aye, I get it, like Aslan too,” Ben observed, thinking of Marcie’s precious book that she’d
helped him finish, “Lion, lamb, same difference, right?”
Marcie laughed and agreed, then Ben took a deep breath and ploughed on with what he
wanted to say, “And I kind of felt something like that too. This may sound weird, but it was
a good thing, really great, special and kind of spiritual, I guess.”
“What, Ben?” Marcie asked in gentle exasperation, twisting around to give him a curious
look.
“I felt like I was ready to be a sacrifice. I’ve given myself to you, and you could fit another
role, different to the nurse or Holy Mother. You could be my guide when I die Marcie, as you
nearly were, when you rescued me in the gym.”
“Oh, don’t talk like that Ben!” Marcie said urgently, and he saw her eyes suddenly
brimming with sparkling tears.
“No, it’s a good thing, like I say,” Ben tried to emphasise, “I trust your care, your mercy.
We’re in this together, and life is so precious because, deep down, we know it must end.
But if you’re there for me, in my final moments, I’m at ease with that, I’m ready.”
“No, not yet Ben!” Marcie wailed urgently, twisting around to grip him to her, pressing
their bare skin together in an awkward but forceful embrace.
“No, I know that,” Ben admitted sincerely, his voice slightly muffled by her body’s close
contact, stroking her neck tenderly while his dirtier hand gripped her thigh, savouring the
warm weight of her against him. He began voicing his thoughts aloud as Marcie shifted and
buried her face beneath his chin, carefully skirting around the secret surprise that he’d
embedded in today’s plan as he spoke, “Maybe there’s been enough sacrifice. My lungs’
condition, the fire, your old research plan, they’ve cleared a new path. I’m looking forward
to a liberated future, and I think you still are too, that fresh air and open sky that you first
told me about, and I want to share it with you.”
“I’m glad,” Marcie sniffed, pushing herself up a little to look into his eyes. She went on, “I
want that too, to fill my lungs with that fresh air standing beside you. And we should get
plenty of that today, right? So hadn’t we better be getting on with things? You can have first
shower, and I’ll start getting breakfast ready. Deal?”
“Deal!” Ben laughed, amazed once again at how Marcie could switch into her practical
mindset in an instant. “I love you,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips, thinking of
where they’d just been and the traces of spilt semen on her chin, now accompanied by
tender tears on her cheeks.
“I love you too, my big brave lion,” Marcie said with a twinkling smile as she twisted herself
around onto all fours, letting her breasts hang heavily down, before bundling up her
discarded costume and rising to her feet. She clasped the crumpled white fabric to her
chest, covering her nipples but leaving the dark plastered curls of her pubic hair exposed in
the crease between her stocking-clad thighs, as she said, “Just let me run through to the
bathroom to have a wee and put my dressing gown on.” Then she was making for the door.
Ben watched her go, his eyes on her bare back and buttocks, his heart filled with warm
affection, his loins already stirring with faint arousal again at the sight of her teasingly sexy
body. Then as she passed out of sight around the door, he rose from the bed too, picking up
their empty mugs along with Marcie’s dirty beads before padding through the flat after her.
Chapter 46
Ben caught up with Marcie in the bathroom, sitting on the loo in her unfastened dressing
gown while her urine gushed noisily away. She saw immediately what he had in his hand as
he made for the basin, urgently saying, “Oh, leave that there. I can’t ask you to wash that for
me! Flush those dirty tissues down the toilet too. You are so good to me, Ben, letting me
have my messy play.”
“Well you’re so good to me,” he replied, “Making that costume, dressing up to give me a
treat, then letting me do that thing, letting me come in your mouth.”
He hadn’t meant to finish so crudely, but Marcie didn’t seem to mind as she rose, wrapping
her robe around herself, hiding the tops of the white stockings that she still wore. Then she
moved over to the basin, pushing him aside. “I’d let you do that whenever you want, within
reason. Maybe not on the Metro, for example,” she said with a cheeky smile as she ran the
water hot over her hands and her used sex toy. “You could say that you’re good for me too,
letting me indulge my taste for your sexy creamy love juice, and letting me share it with you
too. Did you like that? Do you find it tasty too?”
“Aye, I guess I do,” Ben cautiously replied, stepping across the bathroom to start his
shower, “I know what you mean, about it being a bit sweet. And the taste isn’t bad, is it?”
“I still think it’s like a soft runny brie, maybe with a bit of sweet cranberry jam stirred in,”
Marcie said with a smirk as she vigorously scrubbed the lathered shaft of her floppy
silicone toy. As she finished at the sink and Ben stepped into the gushing shower, she added,
“I think I’m getting hungry though. I’ll dry this cheeky little fellow on a piece of kitchen roll
then start getting the croissants warmed, okay?”
“Okay, thanks,” Ben agreed, giving her a small wet wave as she left, then he focused on
giving himself a good clean as he heard her banging around in the kitchen. He felt a pang of
regret to be washing the traces of Marcie’s intimate arousal off his face, to lose the
lingering scent of her private musk that brought such strong arousal to him as well, yet he
hoped she’d let him bury himself in her furry vulva again soon. He was especially thorough
in scrubbing the fingers of his left hand, thinking of Marcie’s trust in him, or her confidence
in their affinity, to let him play with her anal stimulation and risk the indignity of getting
her excreta on himself.
He made a rich lather around his genitals too, diligently washing the collar between his
glans and foreskin especially, wanting to be as clean as possible for Marcie should she get
close to his penis again later. He thought nostalgically of his stiff erection rising before her
face, almost touching her nose, as she blessed it with her exotic Catholic phrases. He’d felt
proud to play his part in her little ritual, literally and figuratively, and he hoped that he
would rise to the occasion again, whenever she might be up for it. He was also a little sorry
to be washing Marcie’s lipstick off his skin, as he’d quite liked the idea of carrying the mark
of her claim to him in a private shared place. He knew he wouldn’t need to wait long before
raising the topic of wearing a more public wedding ring though.
Ben washed the rest of his body, and his hair too, using his own shampoo rather than
Marcie’s special products. Feeling especially clean for the day, he stopped the shower,
dried himself vigorously on his towel, then wrapped it around his waist, put on his
deodorant and left the bathroom.
He found Marcie in the living room, putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table. As
well as the plates, glasses and cutlery, she’d laid out butter, jam, honey, cereal, milk and
special orange juice. Ben said how lovely it looked, pecking her lips as she let her fingertips
drift across his bare chest briefly, below the line of his damp cord necklace. She was keen to
take her turn in the shower though, telling him when the croissants would be ready, and
suggesting he make the coffee. He made a joke about the jars she’d put out then, saying that
they should have gone savoury, trying brie and cranberry on their croissants for a change,
then she shooed him away in mock exasperation.
He went to the bedroom to get dressed, taking his underwear and a clean shirt from the
drawers and wardrobe that he now shared with Marcie, since she’d had a thorough sort
and he’d fixed up another storage unit in the tiny spare room. He made the bed, shaking out
the pillows and duvet vigorously, checking the sheet for stains from their spills, but finding
only negligible colourless spots, though he still left the duvet turned down to air everything.
He met Marcie coming the other way as he returned his towel to the bathroom, her dappled
olive shoulders beaded with drops of water, her body and hair wrapped in white towels. He
pecked her lips again, but they didn’t linger, then he was still filling the cafetiere when the
oven’s timer went off. He pulled out the tray of croissants, wrapped them in a clean tea-
towel that Marcie had already got out, then wondered if he should start his cereal while he
waited for her to finish getting dressed, and tame her hair too, as he thought to himself,
hearing the hairdryer.
It was not that long before she appeared though, dressed in the kind of loose skirt and
blouse of hers that Ben still thought of as ethnic or even a Romani Gypsy style. He noticed
she’d coordinated the russet colours of the unbleached cotton blouse’s embroidery details
with the dark earthy colours of the skirt’s rich botanical pattern. He also saw that she’d
pinned her damp hair up, as she did for work, though she’d not put fresh makeup on her
cleaned face. He did glimpse the serpentine chain on her neck though, and guessed that the
silver Mjölnir which he’d gifted her was hidden beneath her blouse, just as her cross
remained around his neck, though on what Ben felt was its more masculine tough cord now
rather than the thin chain that she’d first shared. She smiled happily as she sat down,
giving a contented sigh as he poured some orange juice for them both, but then she sprung
up again to get her pills. Returning to her seat, she quickly popped out her tiny daily dose of
contraceptive, then raised her glass as if to say cheers, but instead she wished him happy
birthday, then knocked back a mouthful with her pill before confirming that he could wait
until after they’d eaten for his other presents.
After the intensity of the coupling that they’d shared, they now seemed more at ease with
chatting about light and trivial matters. Marcie confirmed that Geoff knew when their big
delivery was due, and that Ben had made sure he was okay with taking the time to help,
whilst he confirmed that she could help Shona wrangle the boys if they wanted to try and
get involved whilst Ali was out at work, covering the weekend duty roster. Then they
wondered how busy Lindisfarne might be for their day trip out there, before falling into
their stories of visiting the island before. Marcie had only visited it once with some
colleagues from her library, soon after she’d moved to Newcastle when she’d been keen to
find friends. Ben admitted that he had been several times, some even by boat, sailing up the
coast to it and the Farne Islands with crews from Tynemouth. He thought the northern
dunes would be quieter, if they wanted to take their picnic there, so long as they didn’t
linger so long that they missed the tide.
Marcie made a show of being exasperated by Ben’s big appetite when, once they’d finished
the croissants, he went to get some toast, protesting that he’d had cereal too. He made a
joke about his hunger, saying that there surely wasn’t a better day to indulge it, giving
Marcie an excuse to act as if she were shocked as well as annoyed. Then she ducked into the
spare room to get his other presents from her, his “official” one as she called it, and, “A silly
little surprise.” She explained that she had some cards which had arrived in the post for
him too.
When Marcie came back, they agreed that he should open the cards first. Ben recognised
his dad’s handwriting on the first he picked up. The card inside had a colourful photograph
of a red fox in what seemed to be a flower meadow, which Marcie found very suspicious
until Ben reminded her that she’d spoken to Dave about her sympathy for wild foxes on the
farm herself. There was a small cheque inside, which Ben hadn’t expected, given how much
his dad had helped out already, but Dave had written in the card that Ben and Marcie
should spend it on a meal out together, which Marcie thought was sweet.
There was also a cheque in the old fashioned card from his grandmother, with a simple
watercolour painting of a vase of bright spring flowers and the words “happy birthday” in a
curling script beneath. In painfully shaky handwriting, she’d written inside that she hoped
it was the right amount to pay for the mirror which Dave had mentioned they’d bought for
the flat.
“Does she know where we’ve hung that naughty mirror?” Marcie asked when she saw the
message.
“Aye, I think I told Dad it was in the bedroom, and they know we share a bed, don’t they?
They’re not naive. But did you see what else Granny put? ‘For now we see through a glass
darkly.’ That’s from the Bible, isn’t it?” Ben asked.
“It’s from Corinthians, I think,” Marcie confirmed, “It’s in that bit about love that always
gets read out at weddings, ‘If I speak with the tongues of men and angels, but have not love,
I am but a clanging gong.’ I can’t remember it exactly, but perhaps she really does mean for
us to see that we put love first, in the mirror she’s bought for your birthday, or ‘face to
face,’ as that Bible quote goes on to say.”
“But she bought it for us both together,” Ben corrected, “Look, she’s even put, ‘Love to you
both.’”
Ben then went on to open the other cards from his family, then finished with one that
caused Marcie to give a small groan. “It’s from my mum,” she explained, “I’m surprised she
remembered and thought to get it in the post on time. I shudder to think what she’s put.”
But when Ben opened the card, it was just an innocuous picture of a yacht, heeling over
with its sails filled. Inside was a modest WH Smiths voucher and a simple message to say
that Vera hoped Ben had a lovely day. Marcie was still nonplussed, saying, “It’s like she
thinks you’re twelve years old.”
“But she remembered the sailing connection, and I can get a nice sketch pad with the
voucher. I’ll write to thank her,” Ben said, taking the role of the widow’s apologist once
again.
“Oh, don’t you keep defending her! You’re not her son-in-law yet,” Marcie said in half-
mocking frustration, also tutting in a way that sounded almost like a laugh. Ben felt a little
surprised at her presumption, laughing nervously himself, but Marcie went on, “Come on,
you can open your proper presents from me now.”
She’d wrapped them in very smart glossy paper, printed with a bright cartoon pattern,
which Ben said he was sorry to tear, but there was no suspense as he opened the bigger
box-shaped gift and the awkwardly shaped bundle that she’d tied to it with ribbon. He
pulled out the suede rock climbing shoes with their rigid black soles and the belay device
that they’d chosen together, thanking her and assuring her that they would be very useful
for his new hobby. Ben also got Marcie to admire the shiny carabiner attached to the new
belay plate, contrasting it to his old fire damaged carabiner that he now used as a keyring.
He swore he’d still keep the old one too though, as a miniature memorial to all that he’d
lost, as well as a reminder of Marcie’s role as his saviour in his survival of all those trials.
Then he curiously opened the smaller boxy present, and laughed when he saw it was a
Playmobil toy - a pirate figure, who was brandishing a knife and pistol was on the front of
the box. He immediately realised it was actually a dark-haired girl-pirate with tan skin. He
guessed why Marcie had chosen it, seeing that the figure even had stylised dots for
eyelashes that could have been moles on her cheeks.
“A Mediterranean island trouble-maker,” he laughed, “Ready and able to force her way
aboard!”
“That was the idea,” Marcie said with a beaming smile, “She’ll sneak into your duffle back
when you set out to sea, then use her knife to cut off your block and tackle if you misbehave
with those naughty sirens from Denmark or Talin or wherever.”
“There’s no risk of that now, but she’s perfect,” Ben said as he opened the box and got the
figure out along with her accessories, remarking, “you must have spent ages shopping
around.”
“Well, not really,” she admitted shyly. Then she sighed and said, “I’m just still so sorry that
you lost all your proper models. They were beautifully made, but this is just a child’s plastic
toy which would look absurd in any of them. But I want us to keep that playful childish
magic alive too.”
“Aye, well I do too,” he reassured her, leaning forward to peck her lips, then remarking,
“That’s why I’m reading The Magician’s Nephew, now I’ve got Mort out of the way, and
kind of why the truck’s coming today, to keep us playful.”
“Well, that’s something for Cal and Zain to play with really isn’t it? But don’t let them run
off with this little lady. She can be your special charm now, a guardian fetish, a tiny goddess
idol, like a Roman lares or Egyptian shabti.”
“I’ll look after her, if she’s all those things,” Ben promised, but he’d just heard a distant
beeping as if a large vehicle was reversing and said, “That couldn’t be the truck now, could
it?”
“Mother of God, is that the time already?” Marcie exclaimed, leaping up.
She opened the back door and they both slipped their sandals on before stepping out into
the morning sunshine, then opening the old door in the yard’s back wall too, peering up the
alley to see the anticipated grab truck reversing towards them. A wiry old man was pacing
backwards behind it, acting as the banksman, casually waving his arms to the driver. Ben
recognised him from previous contract jobs, remembering his name was Pete. “I hope Geoff
gets here soon,” Ben remarked, prompting Marcie to go back into the flat to check the front
door and perhaps alert Shona by ringing her doorbell too.
Pete had seen Ben, giving him a quick wave, then once he was closer, he called out, “We’re
dropping this off here, are we?” Ben confirmed they were, then there was a whole palaver
with Pete and Conor, the heavyset driver, as they fine-tuned the truck’s position and tried
to work out how they’d get its legs out to stabilise the crane’s arm.
Ben then led the two men into the yard to show them the chalk marks he’d made to guide
their delivery into place. He found Marcie standing with Geoff at the back door, and Shona
standing at the top of her kitchen’s steps with Fiona on her hip and the boys around her
feet. “The big log is here!” he called out to them enthusiastically after a quick nod and wave
to Geoff.
Cal immediately pelted down the steps, whooping, then dancing around the yard, eagerly
imitating Ben’s gestures, pointing at the white lines on the concrete as he told the grown-
ups, “It’s going here. Can you see? I helped measure it out.”
But Ben was a bit concerned for Zain. He’d expected the younger boy to be the more
excited of the two about the delivery and the big truck, as he was so keen on any kind of
utility vehicle, from fire tenders to bin lorries. Yet now that the day was finally here, he
seemed to be silently rooted to the spot. Ben spontaneously decided to jog up the stairs and
give him a bit of encouragement. “Come on little man,” he said, greeting Shona too with a
smile and a shared look that he saw weary gratitude in, “Don’t you want to see how the
strong crane arm works?”
He scooped the light youngster into his arms and took him down the stairs, carefully
placing his feet on the steep steps as he chattered to Zain, before introducing him and Cal to
Conor and Pete, reassuring them in a sotto voce that he’d make sure they were at a safe
distance when they started the lift. He beckoned Geoff over to introduce him too, catching
Marcie’s eyes as she gave him a supportive smile, then whilst Shona started coming down
the steps with Fiona, the four men and two boys headed for the yard’s alley door to see
what the truck had brought.
“Happy birthday, matey,” Geoff said quietly as he caught up Ben, grasping his hand firmly
and handing over a birthday card after he’d quickly shaken Conor and Pete hands too,
“Marcie told me you’re still up for stopping over this evening, right? Sofie’s really looking
forward to it.”
Ben assured him that they were looking forward to it too, then laughed when Geoff
exclaimed, “Blimey, that’s a mighty big lump of wood!”
The truck had brought the sawn-up trunk of an old ash tree that had fallen down in the
Cragside grounds and needed extracting. Harry, Ben’s old supervisor, had been very
helpful when Ben had raised the idea of taking a large log for their Tyneside flat’s yard so
that his neighbour’s children could play on it. Harry’s general attitude had been extremely
supportive and sympathetic since the fire, like that of most people at the Trust in the last
few weeks. He’d offered to take Ben on a walk to see the fallen tree, then arrange for
contractors to cut off the roots and branches with their own chainsaws, so Ben needn’t get
near the flying sawdust. Ben had marked the tree in the places he wanted it cut, so that it
would fit in the yard, as well as the way up that it was to be loaded, but this was the first
time he’d seen the finished piece.
It was almost as wide as Ben was tall across its base, with the edges smoothed off by some
nice chainsaw work, he noted. It didn’t taper much before it forked into the start of the old
tree’s three great limbs, each thicker than Ben’s or even Conor’s waist. Ben was glad to see
it was resting on the truck’s bed in just the way he’d hoped, anticipating that it would be
absolutely stable once it was moved, resting on the stubs of two limbs and a flattened edge
of the trunk. Conor and Pete had already lashed thick slings around it, with loops that they
could lift with the truck’s grabber, rather than having to grasp the awkwardly irregular
trunk directly. Ben checked that they had ropes too, then they began planning the way that
Geoff and himself would help Connor on guy lines to guide the great log over the yard’s
back wall and into place while Pete swung it across on the end of the crane’s arm.
Zain had come out of his shell a little, and stood quietly beside his brother on the truck’s
bed, now that Connor had dropped the side and Ben had boosted them up. Pete was very
patient with the young boys, sitting them in the bucket seat at the base of the crane to show
them the levers for the hydraulic controls that would move the arm. He explained how the
crane could lift the weight of an elephant, and even crush a grown man to death, with a
clear understanding of their young minds’ sense of the macabre. He built on this as he went
on to show them the stubs of his left hand’s last two fingers, using them to illustrate a story
of a young boy who got his hand caught in a big machine, telling them how the boy grew
into an old man, but the fingers never grew back.
Ben could see wide-eyed astonishment in Zain’s eyes as he realised Pete was the boy from
his little story. “Did it hurt?” he asked in a quiet awestruck voice.
“Not for long,” Pete reassured him, ruffling his hair with a chuckle, “My dear mam, God rest
her heart, kissed it better and I was soon right as rain. But makes it does make it awkward
holding one of those new straight pints when you’re at the oche with an arrow in your
hand,” he said with a wink to Ben as he mimed throwing a dart. This whole performance
meant the boys took it very seriously when Pete decided that everyone was ready and they
needed to stand well back with their mum while the actual lift happened.
“You’ve got a pair of good lads there,” Pete said to Ben as they ran back into the yard.
Before Ben could correct him, he added, “The little one reminds me of my grandson.”
“They’re my neighbour’s boys actually,” Ben said as Geoff chuckled.
“Oh, you’re very good with them. I assumed they were yours, man. That makes sense
though, with the two of you being fair and all, I did wonder. They’ve got their mum’s dark
looks then,” Pete blundered on.
“No!” Ben exclaimed with some embarrassment, realising Pete’s error as Geoff laughed,
“The dark-haired one, Marcie, is my girlfriend. The blonde one, Shona, is their mum, but
their dad Ali is away this morning.”
Pete laughed at his own mistake then, observing, “I got in a right muddle then! I’d guessed
your Marcie was this tall fellow’s hinny when I saw the two of them at your back door!
You’re all quite close, like? Very nice and neighbourly.”
“Aye, I guess we are,” Ben admitted, wondering if the old man imagined there had been
some bed-hopping going on. Or perhaps, Ben thought, Pete had just seen that Ben was at
ease with Shona, just as Geoff now was with Marcie, happily muddling along together
through the storms and squalls of their overlapping lives. He realised that on balance he
felt comforted and reassured by Pete’s perspective as an outsider, that it was clear they all
shared a mutual understanding and open-hearted respect, which revealed itself as a casual
familiarity or even an innocent intimacy. He knew for certain that he was not threatened by
the thought that Geoff was becoming a good friend to Marcie too now.
Conor had been making heavy work of tying the first rope around one of the branches,
struggling even to climb onto the truck’s bed. He seemed very happy when Ben offered to
take over, tying off secure anchor points around a second branch and then the main trunk
with the other ropes, demonstrating the unselfconscious skill gained from his years of tree
surgery. Ben then conferred directly with Pete as the old man got the power going to the
grabber arm’s hydraulics and tentatively took up the weight of the tree trunk.
Over the noise of the compressor, Ben began giving clear loud instructions, directing Conor
and Geoff to positions where they could pull the ropes tight and stop the great log swinging
around as it was raised clear of the truck’s bed. He took point on his own rope, hauling on it
to guide the trunk’s base towards the flats. There was an awkward moment as he walked
the rope through the door from the back alley and on into the yard, when several tonnes of
wood were hanging over the back wall. He’d seen Marcie standing by the back door with
Shona though, Marcie holding a wide-eyed Fiona close while Shona held a mug of tea, with
the boys around their knees, watching with rapt attention. He called over to her to just hold
his rope steady for a moment, which she did once she’d handed Fiona over, while he
popped back out into the alley to help guide the other two into the yard as well.
He noticed other neighbours at their back windows looking out to see what was going on,
and even a handful of slightly older children hanging back further down the alley. He
smiled and remarked to Geoff that they should have been selling tickets, then he confirmed
that Pete was good to extend the arm as he took the rope back from Marcie. As the huge
weight swung forwards with slight jerks, he used his own weight to carefully pull it into the
right orientation as the other two merely kept the tension on their ropes to the opposite
corners of the yard. Then, when the tree was hanging over the perfect spot, he called out
for Pete to start lowering.
He was very relieved when it gently bumped down onto the ground, lining up well with his
chalk marks, whilst the slings went slack as the weight on them disappeared. His new snug
bike shed and the slim outdoor storage cabinet that he’d put up around the corner behind
the bathroom’s outside wall hadn’t been crushed or scraped, and neither had the three
great planter tubs that he’d lined against the wall, still waiting for the special-order dwarf
apple saplings. He was especially glad that the newly patched concrete seemed to be
bearing the tree trunk’s weight just fine too, as he called out to Pete to confirm that the
load was down and he could open the grabber’s jaws to release the slings.
As Pete raised and withdrew the arm, Ben stepped forwards to give his thanks and
congratulations to Conor and Geoff, shaking their hands again, then went to do the same to
Pete, but Marcie caught Ben’s arm to get him to ask if they could stop for a cup of tea after
all their hard work. Pete called out to gladly accept her offer as he turned off the
hydraulics’ compressor and climbed down from the controls’ bucket seat. But the boys
were getting desperate, fidgeting about on the spot and pleading to Shona to be allowed
forwards. She asked Ben if that would be alright, if everything was safe, and he confirmed it
was.
They surged forwards, whooping and shouting, “It’s here, it’s here! The log is here, ‘ncle
Ben!” Ben saw that they seemed unsure what to do about it though, as they circled it,
almost dancing as they ran, slapping it with their hands, but without making any attempt to
climb it. He suggested to Geoff that they show them what to do, so rather sheepishly the
two grown men told the boys to watch, then clambered up the rough bark, swinging their
legs over the trunk so they were facing each other, knees wide as if they were on a rodeo
bull.
Cal immediately got the idea and started trying to scramble up beside Ben, seeming to find
it easy as Ben grasped his outstretched arm, holding him around the wrist as his little hand
tried wrapping itself around Ben’s. Zain was bouncing up and down in frustration, on the
edge of tears, so Ben quickly swung down as he gave reassuring words that he’d help the
little man up too.
“You be careful, Zain Hadid,” Shona called out sternly as Ben boosted him up under the
armpits onto the broad back of the log. Geoff, still sitting towards the base of the trunk with
a self-conscious stiffness, held out his hand to steady the small boy as he squirmed and
wriggled on the wide curve of tough thick bark. Pete had sat on the steps up to Shona’s flat
to watch with a seemingly nostalgic smile on his face, while Conor was diligently untying
Ben’s knots and coiling up the ropes, having already taken the slings back to the truck.
Marcie reappeared with a tray of mugs filled with tea, along with sugar and biscuits. Conor
took his mug and a biscuit with thanks, then Ben saw Pete take three spoonfuls for himself,
making him feel better about his own sweet tea habit. Geoff said he’d have his when he got
down, but then checked his watch and said that he’d actually be getting back, apologising
for the wasted tea. Marcie told him not to be so daft as he carefully left Zain to his own
devices and swung down, then she promised him they’d look forward to seeing him and
Sofie later that evening, before confirming that he could let himself out.
Once he’d gone, the remaining grown-ups all watched the boys play, gaining confidence as
they slid up and down the log. Though they’d already worked out how to scramble on and
off it by themselves via the fork between the stumps of the branches, Ben noticed neither
had worked up the courage to try standing up on the trunk yet. Then he checked he had his
wallet before getting it out to find a couple of notes to offer to Pete and Conor a tip.
“Oh no,” Pete said with a firm denial, “Mister Mortimer was very clear when he settled up
with us. He gave us special rates for the weekend, and said we weren’t to take anything
from you, just pass on his best wishes for the day. A birthday, is it?”
Ben confirmed that it was, making a mental note to thank Harry again, then Conor and Pete
both wished him many happy returns, just as Ben remembered his card from Geoff, which
he’d stashed in the backyard door’s jamb. He swiftly retrieved it and opened it, seeing a
cartoon of two cute monsters, one being chased by a group of men, whilst some women
looked on. He chuckled to himself as he read the caption, then showed it to the others.
“‘Men! They’re only after one thing,’” Marcie read aloud, giving a humph that might have
echoed the cartoon women, “It’s from that Viz comic, isn’t it? Well, it could have been a lot
worse. I’ll take it inside to put with the others. I need to get on with things, but you all stop
here to finish your tea. There’s no rush.”
With that, Marcie disappeared into the kitchen again, whilst Shona took Fiona over to the
log to perch her on it. Ben watched how she kept a firm grip on the baby’s nappy-clad
bottom as Fiona gurgled and shook her chubby arms happily, perhaps picking up on her
brothers’ high spirits. Ben made some small talk with the two other men about what he
and Marcie had planned for the rest of their special day. Then he explained that he might
not see them again for Armstrong Trust jobs, but he was working part-time with a gardener
now, and they might need some heavy lifting too sometime. Pete assured him that they’d
be happy to help any time, and that delivering bags of soil and gravel was their usual stock
in trade.
Then the two men decided they’d better be getting on their way, asking Ben to thank
Marcie again for the tea as they handed their mugs back, and insisting once again that they
wouldn’t take a tip. But Zain suddenly seemed quite upset that they were going, his face
crumpling as if he were about to cry, until Ben hastily explained that the log would stay
here now. Shona suggested the boys go with Ben to wave the big lorry goodbye, and Ben
found himself following Pete and Conor out into the alley holding hands with each of them
on either side.
They watched with the kind of awestruck stillness of hero-worship as the men withdrew
the crane’s outriggers, checked everything was secure, then mounted the truck’s cab and
started the rattling engine. Both men stuck their arms out of their wound-down windows
as one of them started the vehicle’s orange flashing lights before they pulled slowly away.
The boys waved with all their might as they stayed by Ben’s side to watch the truck make
its cautious turn out of the alleyway, then they all turned back to their transformed yard.
Ben saw that Shona and Fiona had disappeared as he swung the backyard door closed and
the boys swarmed back onto the great log, but when he put his head around the open
kitchen door, he saw them both with Marcie, Fiona balanced on the top beside the kitchen
sink with Shona’s arm around her whilst Marcie’s hands were in the washing up bowl. Ben
hovered in the doorway, keeping one eye on the boys, as Shona teasingly welcomed him by
saying, “Here he is, the hero of the hour. You’ll spoil those two wee ragamuffins, you
know?”
Ben protested that he’d just wanted a feature in the backyard that they could all enjoy, then
Shona laughed, saying that she was just joshing, and that she and Ali were both genuinely
grateful. He mentioned that he was worried that the boys might fall off it and hurt
themselves on the hard concrete, but Shona surprised him by replying, “Aye, they probably
will. Then they’ll learn to take better care of theirselves. But hadn’t yous two better be
getting off if you want to get to Holy Island and back today?”
“Aye,” Ben admitted, “The grab truck’s arrival caught us out a bit. We’ve got a picnic lunch
to make yet.”
“Marcie’s beat you to it,” Shona said, seemingly keen to correct him, “We came in here
when you boys were all playing out back. I dropped wee Fi on a cushion in the wash basket
and helped out filling your stotties.”
He thanked her, and Marcie explained she’d packed the cool bag with everything they
needed. For Shona’s benefit, she added that they just needed to finish their interrupted
morning chores, reminding Ben of his inhaler, as if he’d forget. He was aware there was
something special that he needed to pick up from the bedroom too though, which Marcie
didn’t know about.
“I’ll let yous get on with your romp in the dunes then,” Shona said, picking up Fiona and
giving Marcie a business-like hug and pair of kisses at the sink as best she could. She gave
Ben a direct look as she squeezed past him in the doorway, “Enjoy your special birthday
stotties. I learnt Marcie’s got some lovely delicate wafers of salmon for you, and you like
them with thick dollops of cream cheese. They should be a treat, but make sure you don’t
get sand in them.”
Ben still wasn’t quite sure how to take Shona’s teasing innuendos, if that’s what they were,
which she kept making despite the time that had passed since she’d seen Marcie and Ben’s
intimacy in the kitchen. Ben had never given away that he knew Shona had told Marcie that
she’d seen them, and he still felt as if she were almost challenging him to admit that he was
very much sexually active with Marcie. From someone else, the steady stream of cheeky
double entendres might have seemed almost flirty, yet Shona seemed to deliver them with
a hint of her original suspicion about him. However, he could think of nothing else to do but
play the innocent, so he merely replied, “Aye, the smoked salmon will be a treat. We’ll look
forward to it, and thank you again for helping to make them.”
“No, thank you Ben, for the tree and everything else too,” Shona replied shyly, suddenly
smiling with genuine warmth. Then she surprised him by leaning around Fiona on her hip
to wrap her free arm around his shoulder then plant a damp kiss on his cheek, almost
whispering, “Have a happy birthday, for you and Marcie.”
“Thank you, I will. We are. Take care,” he replied in some confusion, but she’d already
turned away and put on her firm voice for the boys, rounding them up and shutting down
their pleas to keep playing with promises that there would be plenty of time to scramble on
the tree later.
Chapter 47
Ben felt some sympathy for Shona as he shut and locked the back door, but he knew that he
and Marcie were doing enough to help out now. Marcie had drained the washing up water
away and was drying her hands on a tea-towel as he asked her whether she really had got
everything sorted for their picnic already. She confirmed she had, but suggested he might
want to put the cool bag in his small rucksack if they were carrying the travel blanket,
anoraks, a bottle of water and perhaps even sun cream too. Ben agreed, but pointed out
with a laugh that his big rucksack might actually be better, and he might pack a hat too if
they were preparing for changeable North Sea weather.
That gave him an excuse to pop to the bedroom, once he’d taken a diversion to finish his
morning bathroom routine, to recover the special tiny box that he’d hidden at the back of
his underwear drawer. He stuffed this deep into the pocket of his jeans, remembering to
pick up his beanie too, then got his rucksack out of the hallway cupboard. He met Marcie in
the living room, where she helped him pack their lunch, drink, coats and her small handbag
into the larger bag as she asked him about CDs to take for the car. He admitted that he’d
quite like to try the BBC recording of the Wizard of Earthsea that she had helped him find in
the library, following their long slog through The Lord of the Rings, but he also suggested
that they could listen to the album from Lamb that she’d mentioned instead. Marcie told
him it was his choice today, but they could pick both up. As she found them, Ben thought to
pick up the Playmobil pirate and pop her into the rucksack’s top pocket too, saying that
she’d like to see the sea, deliberately indulging their shared childish imaginative fancy.
With a final check that they had everything, they moved to put their walking boots on, then
left the flat to get into the car. Marcie insisted that she’d drive as Ben put the rucksack on
the back seat, stuffing the car’s travel blanket inside too in case he forgot later. Then as she
started the car and pulled away, Marcie wondered whether Ben’s new pirate friend
shouldn’t have a name. She told him that she thought she remembered some real female
pirates, like Anne Bonny who was Calico Jack’s lover, and her companion Mary Read who
dressed as a boy. Ben said they sounded like they had interesting stories, but he’d imagined
her taking a name from one of Marcie’s more exotic myths, and Danaë popped into his
mind. Marcie checked that he’d remembered she was the mother of the hero who was
impregnated by Zeus, and not the hero’s beautiful princess Andromeda, but Ben said he
thought that Danaë seemed to suit her better, perhaps because she survived being cast onto
the sea by her father. He said that she surely had a fascinating beauty too, and he admitted
that the Klimt image of her had stuck in his mind.
Marcie gave a light scoffing laugh, seemingly in mild exasperation at his “hetro male libido”
as she called it, conceding, “Little Danaë it is then.” She went on to more practical matters,
confirming the route they were taking out of the city. Then Ben suggested he put the library
CD on, and they began listening to the spellbinding story.
The traffic seemed a little heavy, but they made good time, prompting Ben to check the
dashboard clock against the tide times that Marcie had jotted in her Filofax as they
approached the causeway to the island. He confirmed that they’d planned it about right,
that the tide was only a few hours out and they’d have at least five hours before it came
back in. Marcie was quite excited by driving down onto the road across the tidal beach,
rolling down the windows and slowing down to enjoy the sense of occasion. Ben relished
the smell of the sea and the wind gusting through the windows too as he looked up into the
widening horizon over the water. The blue sky seemed to grow overhead as the mainland
fell away behind them, with the scattered clouds so well defined that they could almost be
floating islands themselves.
They drove on around the island to reach the carpark close to the village, then found an
information board, once Ben had shouldered the rucksack and Marcie had locked the car.
Though they’d already planned what they might do, Ben checked the circular walk around
the island’s east and north coast on the board’s decorated map and confirmed that Marcie
would be happy with that, even if it meant they didn’t get time to linger around the abbey
and castle. She said she was very happy to fit in with what he wanted, that she’d be up for
stretching her legs on a walk of decent length, and that it would be fun to explore those
quite northern dunes he’d mentioned, “To see if there’s a quiet nook where no one would
disturb our celebratory birthday picnic.”
Ben wondered if Marcie had her own thoughts about what they might get up to the quiet
spot she imagined, and he sincerely hoped she might be imagining a little intimacy in the
outdoors again. He did not want to pressure her into doing anything that she might feel
awkward about, or that carried a risk of extreme embarrassment if they were caught, but
he did want to find a special place for just the two of them so that he could go through with
his own planned surprise.
They set a good pace on their walk, without pausing to look at the ancient sites that they
were both somewhat familiar with already, though Ben soaked up the history and stories
that Marcie told him as they went along. He was unsurprised that she knew about the
monastery’s founder Saint Aidan, who she explained came along a couple of generations
before the Venerable Bede, who’d written his important mythic history of Britain in his
own monastery in Jarrow. She also told him about Saint Cuthbert, who was very highly
thought of in his lifetime, and who retreated to a tiny island just off the coast of Holy Island,
and then further out to the Farne Islands, so that he could live as a hermit and get closer to
God. Ben wondered about these early Christian’s sailing skills, and if they measured up the
Vikings, which led Marcie into stories about Saint Brendan’s fantastical odyssey, which
perhaps encoded exaggerated eye-witness descriptions of icebergs and volcanic activity
around Iceland.
She brought this back to Narnia too, remarking that Brendan’s story had directly fed into
Lewis’s Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Marcie enthusiastically described her own childish
excitement at the children’s sea voyage adventure to enchanted islands and the edge of the
world, where the sea meets Aslan’s own kingdom. Ben said he’d look forward to reading it,
prompting Marcie to confirm that he was genuinely enjoying The Magician’s Nephew. Ben
assured her that he was, but admitted he’d also been really enjoying the story they’d been
listening to in the car. Marcie said she was glad, as she’d loved The Wizard of Earthsea
books too as a girl, moving onto them soon after she’d consumed The Chronicles of Narnia,
and she was sure she still had her copies of the original trilogy in the flat. She observed that
whilst those books had been categorised as suitable for children or young teenagers, they
actually had powerful adult themes running through them too, even more so than Lewis’s
books, with Ursula Le Guin’s interest in Taoism, and with Jungian themes being deeply
embedded in them. Ben asked what she meant, but she teasingly said that she wouldn’t
spoil the surprises of Ged’s adventures for him.
By now the dramatic lump of Lindisfarne Castle was already falling behind them as they
walked up the wild beach that ran along the eastern edge of the island, under the vast sky
and beside the open sea. Ben’s sailing senses were kicking in as he noticed the way that the
wind gusted about. The clouds drifting out over the North Sea didn’t seem to threaten rain,
and there was none of the sea mist that he’d seen here before, but he was aware that the
shifting breeze may be bringing more unsettled weather in from the Cheviots or from
further north. He pointed this out to Marcie, but she seemed unconcerned, reminding him
that they had their raincoats, and it wouldn’t matter if they got a bit wet. She said it might
even be a relief, as she admitted that even in just her thin top, she was sweating a little from
the exertion of their brisk walk and the sun, with almost summer heat in it when it was out
and the breeze dropped.
Ben remarked, “I thought sweat was just for men, and women perspire.”
“‘Horses sweat, gentlemen perspire and ladies just glow,’” Marcie corrected him, putting
on a plummy accent, then giving him a beaming smile as she continued, “Well, you know
me better than that, Ben. My perspiration, and my tears too, they’re just the start of what
seeps from my body aren’t they?”
“I’ve seen you glow too,” Ben responded, grinning broadly back, “Sometimes when you are
a bit wet elsewhere.”
“Ben!” she scolded with exaggerated shock, “I’m sure a gentleman shouldn’t say such
things to a lady, even when they’re alone by the lapping surf.”
“What? I was thinking of when you’d got out of your hot bath,” Ben immediately replied
with his own performance of the injured innocent, making her laugh out loud.
They’d been walking along the worn path above the stony beach, but Ben suggested they
get try getting right down to the surf. They made their own way across the strip of short
tough grass that separated the path from the shore, slipping down a miniature cliff at the
edge of the turf. Ben went first, bracing his hand against the peaty soil, then he helped
Marcie down, keeping hold of her hand as they picked their way across the pebbles, around
the larger rocks and patches of mud. Ben noticed how fresh the sea air seemed, deliberately
filling his lungs as they came to the shoreline, then saying how good it felt. Marcie said she
was glad, giving his chest a vigorous rub with her free hand. She reassured him that he was
doing well, praising him for getting into his new fitness regime since he’d seen the
consultant, taking his responsibilities with his inhalers seriously, and doing his best to
avoid smoky venues.
“But it’s you really,” Ben assured her in turn, dropping her hand to throw his arms wide,
whilst Marcie took the opportunity to snuggle up against his chest, “It’s all thanks to you,
your help. And it’s right here, isn’t it? This is the open sky, the fresh air we’ve found. I’m
drawing it in, filling my lungs, and I feel confident doing that, but it’s our coming together
really, that’s what makes it possible, what’s given me a future. And so that’s what I actually
feel when my chest expands, when the air reaches down into my belly, when that feels good
and right. It’s a magical force that’s filling me. We’re just two folk, up from Newcastle,
enjoying a walk on the beach. But it feels like we’re creatures of the air too, born into that
open sky, given new life, a new horizon. The air is in us, and we are in it, soaring to the
heavens, through the blue and the clouds, reaching the sun and the stars. We’re on the way
now, together. And it’s because we’re together, because we’re two become one, that we
can fly like this, that we are one with the fresh clean air.”
He was returning Marcie’s hug now as they stood just above the waves’ foamy reach,
trickling across the shingle with the slow rhythm of the gentle surf. He dropped his eyes
from the sky to gaze into hers, beneath her glasses, seeing in their sparkling wide brown
light the happiness and assured contentment that matched his own. As their gaze lingered,
he felt as if he were looking directly into Marcie’s soul, seeing that it was indeed braided to
his own now, and by this he knew with utter conviction that he was planning the right thing
to do with her today. After a long moment, Marcie drew her own deep breath, then let out a
deeply satisfied sigh before saying, “Oh Ben, you express yourself in such a thoughtful and
heartfelt way, and it’s all so true. But I still think there’s another way to see it that can be
put far more simply. We are in love. That’s the truth, isn’t it? It is the real thing, it’s
Nature’s way, and it’s binding us together. We are just a couple from Newcastle now.”
“You’re right. But you don’t need to say ‘just’. There’s true magic at work here, in the
hands of Nature, that spirit of all life. She’s reforging us, using that fire we kindled, that’s
bedding down really well, using its fierce steady heat to fuse our souls together, all as part
of her divine plan,” Ben said, stooping down briefly to peck her lips. He wondered if the
moment for his planned surprise was on them, but he could see other people on the path
and he didn’t want anyone intruding on them when he made the grand gesture, so he
decided to bide his time. Instead he tried to get them into moving on again by saying, “But
there are other natural forces too, more everyday ones. I’m getting hungry, and I’d like to
find that quiet spot in the dunes, if we can, before we get stuck in.”
Marcie laughed, then gave a sympathetic pout, saying, “Yes, you poor thing. You were
working so hard this morning, we’ve had a long drive, and now we’ve got stuck into a great
hike the long way around the island. Let’s get back onto the path where we can make easier
progress and set the brisk pace we managed before. I’ll do my best to keep up with your
long strides, then we’ll be around the headland and into the dunes in no time.”
Ben happily went along with her plan, adjusting the rucksack on his back once they’d
scrambled back off the beach and onto the short-grazed turf. The walk did seem to become
a bit of a slog as they followed the path around the coast, passing the monumental yet
utilitarian white pyramid that marked the headland. Ben confirmed Marcie’s guess that the
dressed cairn was a useful landmark to boats navigating up the coast, which led her back to
the stories from Earthsea. She promised that there were a lot more sea journeys to remote
islands and stirring adventures with strange goings-on in store for Ben as he followed
Ged’s progress. Then she admitted that she’d not realised before how easy it was to
imagine this Northumbrian coast - and by extension the Scottish islands, Scandanavia,
Iceland and so on - as a template for Le Guin’s fantasy world.
Ben promised to look out for the similarities as he listened to more of the story, and when
he got around to reading the books too. Then he wondered aloud about the significance of
the magical and supernatural sea journey as the common theme behind all these stories - in
The Wizard of Earthsea, the Narnia book that he’d not read yet, the ancient voyage of the
Celtic saint that Marcie had also mentioned, and the original Greek Odyssey that she’d told
him about too.
Marcie apologised for bringing up Jung and the psychotherapists again, but she guessed
their ideas might have something to do with it. They would say the sea was like the vast
and changeable unconscious, the mysterious inner world of dreams, desires and the
powerful stormy forces that drive people’s lives, all without their sensible conscious
mind’s understanding. She speculated that those forces actually often seem to run directly
against a person’s rational plans and expectations, and therefore lead to all that strife and
drama that drives epic stories and makes them so interesting. She suggested that the
author and their reader may have some deep sense of that conflict, between the hubris of
the mortal ego and the immortal powers at work beneath. Their stream of consciousness or
their minds’ language centres, employed in writing and reading the story, might identify
with the fragile boats, bobbing about on the interface with something vast and dangerous.
They know instinctively that they are prey to the dark sea which lies within themselves and
everyone else, borne irresistibly by the currents and tides of fate or divine capriciousness.
Marcie explained that must be what makes the stories call out to so many, throughout time,
just as if they came from the readers’ own dreams, even though the settings and the
monsters are fantastical.
Ben said that he thought he understood, and that he’d felt there were moments when he’d
been in the grip of those forces himself recently, in his far more mundane adventures
through the hospital and the fire. He admitted that perhaps it had been like being out at sea
on his own, in the dark, fearful of the heaving waves, feeling small and deeply uncertain of
his ability in the face of nature, trying to trim his sail to the power of the wind that gripped
his vessel.
That prompted Marcie to note that she’d missed a key thing, that there were two realms at
work on the fragile sailboat of the ego. Ben had made the wind and the air sound almost as
dangerous as the sea, yet they’d already been talking about the wind being linked to the
angelic fires of love. Marcie stopped Ben from denying that this was the same wind he’d
meant, making the point that she’d also been scared, but scared of the force of that love.
She pondered that it could be just as destructive as the deadly threat of those crashing
waves of fate, that threw the cruel dust and the savage workshop fire their way.
Ben felt she was onto something, and said as much, but he also said that perhaps the two of
them should just remember that these stories were meant for simple entertainment too.
Likewise he thought they could take some simple pleasure in the real sea and sky, letting
their senses soak them up, making the most of the moment now to enjoy this special day
out that they’d arranged. Marcie laughed as she agreed, and started berating herself for
being pretentious and overthinking everything, but Ben pointed out that he’d been as
guilty of that as her. He also voiced his thought that their busy minds and imaginative ideas
were great too, but it was just that he’d wanted to make the point that they didn’t need to
take them too seriously, and that they could take a childish excitement at playing in the
sand too.
They’d been heading deeper into the trackless dunes for a while now, which meant that
Marcie could take Ben at his word immediately. She told him he was right, then
unexpectedly gave him a great shove with all her might just as he was bringing his foot
down on the sloping sand. He overbalanced and went over, giving himself up to the fall as
he came down against the softly yielding drift on his side. Meanwhile Marcie ran off with an
incoherent shrieking cry, reaching the crest of the dune where the tough spiny grass grew
in just a few steps. As he lay on the ground laughing, she turned, dancing on the spot with
both arms raised in the air, hollering and cheering to herself, before jumping back down
onto the slope of the dune. She let her feet slip beneath her so that she fell down herself,
landing on her bottom and sliding a little of the way towards Ben.
Ben rolled onto his front, with the rucksack still strapped to his back, and made a lurching
crawl to catch her ankles. She shrieked again as he used his grip as well as his legs to
clamber up her body, pumping against the shifting sand with his elbows and knees, pinning
her to the ground beneath him. They were both breathless by the time he reached her eye-
level, and he didn’t hesitate to clasp her around the chest, feeling the damp cloth beneath
her armpits, then plant a firm kiss against her smirking lips. He felt her relax in his arms,
then respond with a slower considered strength, wrapping him in her own arms and her
legs too now. Her jaw relaxed, and she parted her lips to let him pass his tongue softly over
her own. Then they kissed with sudden passion and urgency, mouths moving as if they
were trying to consume the other, knocking their lips hard against each other’s teeth. Ben
dislodged Marcie’s glasses, whilst she tugged at his hair and clawed at his scalp.
The moment passed quickly though, leaving them both panting. As he stared with
unreserved love into Marcie’s eyes, beneath her long dark lashes, Ben listened to the sound
of their breath. In the stillness of their hollow within the dunes, out of the gusting breeze,
he could also hear the distant crump of the folding surf’s pulses, the softened call of the
seabirds drifting along the seashore, and perhaps a skylark from further inland too. Then
he heard a long gurgling rumble from his stomach, which Marcie obviously caught too as
she laughed, then said, “Oh, you poor thing. You really are starving, aren’t you? Come on,
let’s have our picnic right here, then we can get back to more kissing when our tummies
are full.”
They laid out the travel blanket as a rug, facing a notch in the dune’s bowl that gave them a
view out to sea. Marcie said a little apologetically that she wanted to take her walking boots
and socks off, to stretch her hot sweaty feet and feel the sand under them. Ben told her not
to be so daft as to worry about her petite feet offending him, announcing that he’d do the
same himself as he immediately set to unlacing his own boots. At his suggestion, once
they’d wriggled their toes in the soft sand, they took it turns to splash their hands with a
little of the water they’d brought, before patting them dry on the kitchen roll Marcie had
packed. She agreed with Ben that she hoped all this had at least helped somewhat towards
washing off anything foul they’d touched on the ground. Then Marcie got out the
Tupperware with their clingfilm-wrapped salmon stotties, as well as a punnet of cherry
tomatoes and the bottle of sparkling wine she’d remembered to bring.
“It’s still quite cold,” she reassured Ben, clasping the bottle as he dug the plastic glasses out
of the bag, then handing it to him when he offered to open it. After the shaking that the
bottle had had, he expected it to go off with a bit of a bang, but he was surprised himself by
the force of the pop. Marcie gave a shriek of delight at the sound, then chuckled as he
managed to catch most of the foaming gush that followed in one of the glasses, saying, “Ooh,
you’re such a pro. I can tell you knew that was coming, and you just knew what to do with
it.”
Ben chuckled with her as he handed the half-filled glass over, then poured about the same
for himself before propping the bottle up safely and recovering the cork. He went to put the
cork in the rucksack’s top pocket for safekeeping, then remembered Marcie’s playful
birthday gift, so he retrieved the Playmobil pirate and sat her carefully on the rug beside
the bag. Feeling a little foolish, he said, “Little Danaë can join in too.”
Marcie agreed enthusiastically, smiling contentedly but perhaps also a little indulgently.
Then she raised her plastic cup seriously, as if were genuinely an elegant crystal wineglass,
solemnly saying, “Happy birthday Ben. I’m so unbelievably happy that I’m here to
celebrate it with you.”
“Aye, well if weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now to enjoy it. So, here’s to us,” Ben
replied with a wide smile, despite the melancholy thought, then took a good gulp of the
fizzy wine. He immediately put it aside to pick up a sandwich though, thanking Marcie
again for organising everything as he plucked a few tomatoes too. She admitted that Shona
had helped, seemingly happy to move straight on from his hint at his boundless gratitude to
her for saving his life, as they both knew they’d had that conversation often enough and
could leave their thoughts on it unspoken.
Ben remembered then the apparent challenge and suggestive subtext in Shona’s attitude
that morning, and once he’d gratefully swallowed his first mouthful, he decided to ask
Marcie about it, “Is Shona okay with me, do you think? She doesn’t think I’m taking
advantage of you, does she? This is really delicious by the way, really tasty and creamy.”
Marcie smiled sympathetically at him around a full mouthful, gesticulating as if keen to
speak, before she swallowed and answered, “Hmm, no. She really likes you, I think. She’s a
bit of a tough cookie, a hard lass, I guess, ‘Made from girders.’ She’s maybe had to put up
with some stick for her choices in life, which puts her on the defensive a little. She’s opened
up to me a lot this last month and shared all sorts that I don’t need to blab about. And I’ve
shared things with her too, so she knows we’re a very close couple now.”
“She knows we’ve got an active sex life, you mean,” Ben clarified with a bit of a smirk, even
though he felt a bit ashamed at the thought of Shona knowing the details of what he and
Marcie got up to.
“Yes, I guess I do, but don’t worry, it’s not like I talk her through an action replay of what
we get up to,” Marcie said, perhaps a little shiftily Ben thought, covering her mouth as she
popped in a tomato. She went on, as if reassuring herself as well as him that she’d not over-
shared with Shona, “No, she knows we’re lovers, that we’re serious about each other, and
that we’re enjoying ourselves. I guess she’s maybe just a tiny bit jealous of that, and
perhaps a part of her regrets starting her family with Ali when she was so young.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ben admitted, genuinely feeling sympathy for her.
“No, she wouldn’t want you to be sorry for her,” Marcie clarified urgently, speaking around
her mouthful, “She’s really into being a mum, and I think she’s doing a great job. But
perhaps when she looks at you, a genuinely handsome big blonde male, there’s a tiny part
of her that sees a different path in life that she could have taken.”
“Well, I’ll be kind to her then, but without teasing or flirting,” Ben resolved.
“You’re doing all that already, Ben,” Marcie reassured him, reaching over to give his knee a
squeeze, “I’m very proud of you when we’re all together, and you’re so good with the kids.
I’m happy that you and I getting together has made us a strong team when it comes to all
being good neighbours too. And that’s true for Geoff and Sofie as well, now that I think of it.
It’s as if as well as finding a proper boyfriend who looks after me, I’ve gained some really
good friends who I’d trust with anything now.”
“Aye, well I feel I’ve got closer to them too, since that first night you met them. It’s like
Geoff thinks of me a bit differently now, like I’m on the same page as him. And Sofie’s a bit
chattier with me too.”
“You mean she flirts with you more,” Marcie said with a laugh, “No! You don’t need to deny
it or try to be coy about it. I know what she’s like, and I know you’ve got that cheeky playful
sparkle too. But Ben, I also know you well enough, both of you, to be absolutely sure that
you are truly faithful people. Maybe Sofie knew she could be more playful only once she’d
seen you’d made a serious faithful connection to someone else. She and I both know you
see genuine romantic love and intimacy as something that’s not to be spread about.”
“Romantic love, is that what you call it?” Ben mused, grasping her hand tenderly as he
finished his stottie quarter.
“It doesn’t really do it justice, does it?” Marcie admitted, dropping his hand to take a sip of
wine whilst Ben claimed another stuffed quarter and more tomatoes, “They say the ancient
Greeks had seven or more words for love, and we’re sharing eros I guess, though it feels as
if goes far beyond the mere satisfaction of our erotic coupling. Philia, brotherly love, maybe
something that we’re talking about sharing with Geoff and Sofie.”
“Aye, maybe,” Ben agreed as he swallowed, “Though I’m closer to Geoff than my brother, I
reckon. I’d trust him more, and I’d rather be with him.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Marcie said a little sadly, “But as I grew up I realised from my friends
that having siblings was often just a nuisance really. Also, though I can easily imagine Geoff
as your brother, in your character and mannerisms as well as your appearance, maybe
seeing philia as just brotherly love is too narrow. Though I can certainly also imagine Sofie
will become as close as a sister to me as we go on, that’s maybe missing a key point. When I
see you with her, it is as if you’re something like brother and sister, or sister-in-law maybe,
unquestionably close. But there’s also some kind of unspoken mutual understanding
between you two that means it will also always remain indubitably platonic.”
“Aye, you can count on that, truly,” Ben reassured her, offering more wine even as he kept
wolfing down his food. As he poured he reassured her that he could drive home, took a gulp
of water for himself, then asked if she could tell him the other words that the Greeks had.
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Marcie admitted, “But there’s something different about what
you’re showing to Ali, Shona and the kids especially I think. They say, ‘It takes a village to
raise a child,’ don’t they? I guess they mean that as well as the parents there’s the midwife,
the doctor, the babysitter, the grandparents, aunts, uncles and so on, the schoolteachers,
the other schoolkids, the village elders too, even if they’re not ordained religious figures,
and perhaps the negative characters as well, the naughty children and local ne’re-do-wells
who make an object lesson for how not to behave. Well, when you’re sharing your old Lego
with the boys, and now that you’ve arranged for that tree to be dropped off for them to
play on, you’re definitely demonstrating some kind of selfless giving love that’s helping to
raise them well, whether that’s what the Greeks called agape or not.”
“You know though, I can’t imagine talking to Geoff or Ali about these things,” Ben reflected.
“We don’t need to,” Marcie assured him with a smile, “It’s just what we do as humans -
make friends, find a mate, help look after each other’s kids.”
“Maybe at some level, what I’m doing with Zain and Cal, it’s practising too, for when I’ve
got kids,” Ben found himself saying.
“‘When we’ve got kids,’ I think you wanted to say there,” Marcie said, looking it up at him
shyly, “It’s okay. We’ve talked about it already. It’s not happening tomorrow, but we know
that’s what it means when two furry mammals make a mated pair. It’s nature’s way, and I
do think we both know it will come around in time, ‘In sha’Allah,’ as Ali’s imams might say,
‘If God wills it.’ And perhaps that is something you can talk to Geoff about too, planning
ahead for a family, I mean, not God’s will.”
“Aye, we’ve not spoken about it, but maybe that’s why he proposed to Sofie,” Ben said
without thinking. He was suddenly panicked that he’d stepped into a trap within this
conversation that he wasn’t quite ready for. He was relieved when Marcie lightened the
mood, perhaps even in response to her acute perception of his sudden anxiety.
“Well, I can’t imagine you getting around to talking about such things with him this evening,
with what you two cooked up. ‘We thought we might watch The Matrix again, Geoff’s got
the DVD, just to refresh our memories, before the new films come out,’” Marcie quoted
with a chuckle, putting on a deep voice to imitate him. She went on, “You’ll both be glued to
the gymnastics of Carrie Anne-Moss in her PVC catsuit, ogling her superpower moves in
bullet time freeze-frame, if I’m right in thinking that Geoff is as bad as you for such things. I
was wondering whether the two of you would need little bibs, like little Fiona’s, to catch
the drool!”
“Well, you and Sofie get Keanu Reeves, in a baggy jumper,” Ben countered, with a hurt tone
of voice but a guilty smile too.
But Marcie laughed, “Oh, you’re so easy to tease! I want you to enjoy it. I might be able to
squeeze into a fantasy nurse costume for you, but I can only imagine what an awful sight it
would be for everyone involved if I tried stuffing my short bumpy figure into PVC. I’d be
like a scary black pudding Muppet with bits bulging in shrink-wrapped plastic! So your
dark BDSM ninja angel will have to stay just on the screen I’m afraid.”
“That costume was amazing,” Ben tried to reassure her, sidling up to her to put an arm
around her shoulder and a hand on her knee now that she’d almost finished her salmon
sandwich too. He tried explaining his thoughts, “It went way beyond anything I’d expect,
anything I’d dreamt of doing with you, in reality. You really did bring a fantasy to life, and it
was amazing. But you know you didn’t need to, that I’d never expect anything.”
“I know,” Marcie reassured him, taking a swig of water then popping the last of her
sandwich into her mouth before stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers. After this
seeming pause for thought, perhaps to consider the points she could make about their
mutual expectations, she wound up simply saying, “I wanted to though.”
“Well thank you, I’m deeply grateful, and for all the work you put into preparing it,” Ben
said earnestly, but he was also thinking about Marcie’s self-critical remarks. He didn’t want
to admit that he’d enjoyed seeing bigger women than her squeezed into PVC at some raves
that he blearily remembered, or risk comparing Marcie to those trashy vamps, so he just
meekly said, “But you must know too, I think you’d look awesome in a Matrix catsuit. I
really like your bulges.”
“Hmm, and I quite like some of yours too,” Marcie replied in a seductively syrupy way with
a minxish grin, dropping her arm to run her hand very deliberately over Ben’s groin,
pressing her fingers firmly against his masculinity through the thick denim of his jeans.
Chapter 48
Ben ran his big hand lightly up Marcie’s thigh to her hip, feeling the soft warmth of her
skirt’s pleated cotton under his fingertips. Remembering her earlier remark, he asked, “So
may I ask, if we’ve filled our tummies, is it time for more kissing now?”
“Aye,” she replied with a sly smile as she imitated his affirmation, “I guess it must be.”
She let Ben plant a brief peck on her bare lips, still damp and greasy from her lunch, then
deliberately twisted away from him. She grasped his rucksack, tucking the Playmobil figure
away before squashing and pulling its stuffing of coats into a shape that satisfied her better,
then she propped it on the edge of the blanket as an improvised pillow. With that in place
and Ben still leaning over her, she wriggled her bottom down the slope, then gave a
luxuriant stretch as she lay back, drawing out a deeply contented sigh.
Ben took a moment to appreciate the situation he found himself in, alone with Marcie in the
great outdoors with his hunger somewhat satisfied, filled with the tender feelings of the
fascinating love that had brought them so close, especially in this moment. She had no
makeup on now behind her glasses, and her hair was still pinned back quite neatly, despite
a few stray hairs from the gusting winds on their walk. With this appearance, she could
almost be ready to walk straight into her workplace, filling her modest professional role
within the university. It was a stark contrast to the way that she’d dressed and made
herself up for him that morning, with the sexually provocative costume, worn without any
underwear beneath her indecently short dress, and the red lipstick that she’d got on his
penis. Yet she seemed just as seductive to him now, reclining on their picnic blanket against
the sloping sand, with a calm smile and a knowing twinkle in her deep brown eyes beneath
her lowered eyelashes.
As he returned something of that smile, he slowly breathed in the sea-scented air, feeling
its stillness, sheltered by the dune. He was distantly aware of his nagging weather senses,
that the air’s freshness perhaps hinted at rain, and he recalled his thought that there may
be a change drifting down with the broken clouds. He glanced over his shoulder to their
view through the notch in the dunes over the sea, taking in the wide sky over it, but he
couldn’t see the tell-tale sweep of falling rain, so he put his worries aside.
Marcie perhaps misinterpreted his check as she raised her hand to his chin and asked, “Are
you making sure we’ve not got an audience? I wouldn’t worry. We didn’t pass anyone else
after we passed that white obelisk, did we?”
“No, I was checking the sky actually, for incoming rain,” Ben admitted, “But I think you’re
right, that we’re on our own. Listen.” They both froze, barely breathing as they opened
their ears. They could hear the whisper of the wind in the tough grass on the fringe of the
dune just above them, and further off the intermittent calls of birds all around them. The
cries of seagulls and the melody of the skylark were familiar to Ben, but the pips and
chirrups of the other species that populated this remote shore were a mystery. Marcie was
grinning up at him inquisitively as he looked into her eyes, taking it all in, then he
whispered, “Nothing, but the sounds of nature.”
“And we’re creatures of nature too, aren’t we? Warm-blooded mammals in our cosy nook,
like a hare’s form scraped out of the sand, children of Eostre,” Marcie murmured, burying
her fingers in the hair at the back of his scalp. Then she let her lips twitch in a subtle pout,
which Ben immediately seized as his cue. He sank onto his elbows across her, pressing his
hips to her thigh and putting his mouth to hers, just barely brushing her lips as he deeply
inhaled the warm scent of her. He perceived the hint of her earthy citrus perfume, as well
as the soapiness of her clean skin and the lingering pungency of her creamy fishy lunch. In
all this, she seemed irresistibly delicious as he finally pressed his lips firmly to hers, letting
their touch linger as he felt her tongue just brush the edge of his parted mouth.
Ben relished the sensation of Marcie’s playfully intimate kiss, aware that they were
hovering at the edge of something more intense, both just resisting the urge to give in to
their shared passionate energy. Meanwhile, with his weight on one elbow, sinking into the
sand beneath the blanket a little, he found he could move a free hand to stroke Marcie’s
body. He placed his palm against the side of her ribcage beneath her raised arm, feeling a
dampness to the blouse’s coarse cotton there from the perspiration she’d mentioned
earlier. Then he boldly stroked his hand across her chest, deliberately moving it over the
soft mound of her full breast, squeezing her very gently and exploring the unseen curve of
her cleavage with the pressure of his thumb, feeling the hard lump of her pendant buried
there.
As he held her breast in his big hand, Ben realised that Marcie perhaps felt some of the
arousal that he knew was rising within him at this caressing stroke, as she vocalised a kind
of tiny pleading groan, prompting him to finally give in to his instincts and thrust his tongue
into her mouth. She immediately responded in kind, eagerly lapping at his mouth, her jaw
wide and working in a chewing motion. Ben was aware of the tastes of their shared salty
lunch and the sharp wine that were still on her, even as he thrilled with the pleasure of his
indulgence in their uninhibited animal hunger for each other.
He was aware that his hand was compulsively kneading her breast now, his palm sliding
her blouse’s thin cotton over the slippery fabric of her bra, whilst the muscles down the
core of his abdomen urgently pushed his hips firmly against her, pressing his rising
erection to her body even through their clothes. Yet despite the instinctual power that
drove his movements, he felt the assurance that nothing he did was too forceful. Rather,
Ben felt as if he was acting from a sense of reverential wonder and sympathetic delight to
be so deeply within Marcie’s personal space. And it seemed she was responding to this in
kind, even as their hungry mutually penetrative kiss rolled on. She still had one hand
clasped to the crown of his head, tangled in his hair and holding him to her, but her other
hand had snaked out beneath him as he pressed down her, and now it had found the gap
beneath his loose shirt, letting her rub her fingertips sensuously across the bare skin of his
back.
Ben found himself imitating her, quickly finding the hem of her blouse so that he could slip
his hand beneath, brushing the smooth skin of her stomach above her skirt’s waistband,
moving higher until his fingertips brushed her bra. Still kissing, his breath coming faster
through his flared nostrils now, he caressed the warm satin cushion of her breast’s rising
curve, traced the line of her bra cup’s lace trim, then made a kind of scratching motion
against the point where he thought her nipple must be. Indeed, he felt he was in the right
place as his fingertips felt the softer area that must be her areola beneath the satin, as well
as the subtle impression of a sensitive creased bump.
As he stroked her just there, Marcie inhaled sharply through her nose. Their wet lips
slipped messily apart, and Ben drew back a little in response to her slight tug on his hair.
His hand froze, covering the lower part of her silkily cupped breast, as she whispered, “Oh
Ben, I want you to go further.”
“I want that too,” he murmured in reply, with only the vaguest idea of just how far she
might mean. As his imagination ran away with him, he thought aloud, “But we should still
be careful. I don’t want to risk exposure, well, a public indecency offence, whatever you’d
call it. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed either, you know, if some walkers wandered
by.”
Marcie looked up with a saucy smile as she explained, “That’s partly why I chose baggy
clothes today. There’s plenty of space to rummage around under them, as you’re already
finding out, without actually taking them all off. Let me get up a moment and I’ll
demonstrate.”
Ben pushed himself up into a sitting position beside Marcie, his bum sinking into the sand
beneath the blanket a little. He felt the heat in his cheeks from his raised heart rate, as well
as the awkward pressure of his erection twisted under his boxer shorts and jeans, and he
felt a bit sorry to have broken away from Marcie, but he was intrigued by what she had in
mind. She didn’t hesitate to put her plan into action though as she sat up herself, pulling
her feet in to find a cross-legged position alongside Ben’s own bent knees. She was still
holding Ben’s gaze with a cheeky smile as she put her hands to her back, beneath her
blouse. Ben realised she was unhooking her bra, then he watched as she wriggled her
shoulders and slipped each hand under the front of her blouse, to slip off her bra straps Ben
guessed. Then she pulled each arm in through her loose sleeves, to work herself free and
completely remove her bra in a concealed way. Finally she pushed her arms back through
her sleeves and was slipping the tangle of ivory satin and lace out from under her blouse.
Marcie’s steady gaze hardened into a kind of serious intensity as she passed the small
bundle over. He’d put his big rough hand out to eagerly take it, then felt its soft warm as
she said, “We’ll take care of these, as it would be too rude to walk back without putting
them back on.”
Ben agreed, acknowledging her seriousness, wondering why she’d said “these” rather than
“this”, even as he briefly dropped his gaze to look for any change to her chest’s appearance.
In that instant he saw with guilty pleasure that her breasts did indeed seem to hang lower
and wider beneath the blouse’s loose white cotton, and he thought he could even see the
outline of her areolae’s darker circles through the thin fabric. He was eager to touch her
again, to stoke her bare breasts and nipples directly, but he wondered what do to with the
bra that she’d just handed him, so he asked, “Shall I put this away then, in a rucksack
pocket?”
But she was already wriggling about again, fiddling about with her hands around and then
under the hem of her skirt as she arranged it over her knees and boosted her bottom up.
With a wave of visceral excitement, Ben realised what she was doing as she said, “Just wait
for these too.”
Sure enough, she brought down the ivory white knickers that she’d been wearing, carefully
pulling them over her bare sandy feet, accomplishing all this without revealing more than a
flash of her bare shins. Ben took these from her respectfully too, feeling a little dizzy at the
thought of being able to touch her vulva directly as they lay together on this exposed dune,
if that’s what she had in mind. He glanced at them, seeing now that she’d been wearing
these smart satin knickers with their lace panel to match her bra, but he resisted the
temptation to make a show of raising them indulgently to his nose, as he might have done if
they were genuinely somewhere private.
Ben found himself sincerely murmuring, “Thank you.” Then he leaned toward the rucksack
to zip them safely away, just as Marcie stretched out her legs, straightening her skirt with
the pretence of modesty, before reclining back onto her elbow.
“You’re welcome,” Marcie said playfully as she settled back on her improvised pillow,
prompting Ben to stretch out and sink onto his elbow beside her once again. She put her
hand out to the side of his head and raised her chin briefly, as if beckoning him, then said,
“So lover boy, are you going to pick up where you left off, or what?”
“I would like that,” Ben admitted as he cuddled up against her, laying his hand softly
against her breast as he put his lips to her. He brushed the cotton across her nipple with
small back and forth movements of his fingers, feeling its rise clearly through the fabric
beneath his fingertips, much to his own excitement. Marcie made contented “hmm” sounds,
but their kisses were less intense than earlier, her lips just glancing across his. Following
his intuition, he let his mouth wander, kissing her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, the edge
of her eye beneath the arm of her glasses, her ear and then her neck.
Ben had sunk onto his side now against blanket, forming a depression in the hard sand
beneath, cuddling up under Marcie’s nearest arm. He’d stealthily moved his hand to the
edge of her blouse, then beneath it, moving carefully so as not to push it up as he ran the
flat of his palm over her warm soft stomach. As his kisses nuzzled against her neck along
her jawline, his fingertips traced the wide curve of her naked breast. The skin seemed thin
beneath his touch, and he fancied he could even feel a scatter of tiny goosebumps, before he
felt himself brush first the softly wrinkled texture of her areola and then the sturdy rising
knob of her nipple. The sensations of touching Marcie’s feminine form so intimately
delighted him, bringing a firm pressure to his hidden erection, and he hoped she was
enjoying the reciprocal sensations as he began systematically caressing her nipple and the
surrounding area with gentle dragging strokes.
Marcie had dropped her hand from Ben’s head, to relax her arm beside her he guessed, and
he was not surprised when he heard Marcie’s dreamy voice spring quietly to life just above
him, sharing her speculative thoughts at this intimate moment. He listened as he kept
kissing her neck and stroking her breast, “Hmm, Ben. Looking up into the sky, feeling all
tingly, it reminds me. You said earlier you felt as if we were beings of the air, because we’re
still high on the bliss of falling in love maybe. I feel that as well, right now especially, but I
think you also meant it to be in contrast with what we feel normally, as solid creatures of
the land, in our heavy bodies, held down by gravity, wearily stumping on through everyday
life. But there’s plenty to get excited about in our earthy bodies, here and now, isn’t there? I
can feel my weight firm against the sand, and it’s comforting. It’s my body that’s still
tasting and feeling the physical satisfaction of eating too, and it’s getting hungry for other
carnal satisfactions now, for fucking, if we’re being honest here. But there were the
fantastic stories from the sea that we talked about as well, weren’t we? I can just hear the
surf rolling in down there and I’m wondering, perhaps I can also feel that sea within me
right now, the salt of my blood’s currents, pumped by my eager heart’s pulse, and pulled by
the Moon just as the tides are. Is there a lapping rhythm to the gentle waves on my shore
too?”
Ben had been listening intently even whilst he’d been giving his attention to Marcie’s
beguiling body. At one level he was absorbed in the feeling of her warm yielding breast
beneath his stretched hand, and of the silken nape of her neck beneath his lips, as he
burrowed against her bony clavicles below her blouse’s collar with its rough embroidery.
Yet at another level he recognised the profound truth of her words. He stilled his hand and
raised his head to say, “Aye, it’s true. We’re creatures of the sea, as well as the Earth and
sky. It’s like they make our hearts, our bodies and our souls.”
“Hmm, I like that,” Marcie said. Ben had noticed that she’d seemed to be fidgeting beneath
him as he’d pressed his face and hand close to her. He realised her twitching motion was
continuing when he’d stilled, and now he glanced down to see that her hand lay in her lap,
rhythmically massaging at the pit in the fabric between her thighs. He was surprised that
she might already be deliberately masturbating herself, even whilst coming up with these
brilliantly colourful ideas, but he did not comment on it, as she went on, “Hearts, bodies
and souls, they are what we bring, what we share in our love, aren’t they? They come first
and last, more important than our minds, our chattering overly clever rational thoughts. Or
maybe it’s all mind really, for without that our emotions, our senses and our passionate
intent would be lost and meaningless.”
“That’s more than I was thinking,” Ben admitted, between his resumed soft quick kisses on
her neck and jawline. His hand was now gently stroking wide lazy circles across her chest,
around her breast, across her ribs and along her cleavage, feeling the warmed hard lump of
the silver hammer pendant resting there. He managed to explain his own ideas a little more
though, “When you said sea, sky and land, and I said heart, soul and body, I thought of other
things. The sea is our blood, as you say. The sky is that air in our lungs, and the light of our
love, what you called our intent, guiding our way into the heavens. So the land, the Earth,
that must be our bones, more than anything else in our bodies. Our skeletons are like the
rocks, the solid foundations, and then, when the blood stills and the light goes out, they’re
buried, our material being lingering on after death, ready for archaeologists to find and tell
our stories. So there are colours too, really basic primitive colours, like in rock art. It’s red
for our blood, white for the light, and black for our buried bones.”
“Mother of God, Ben, you have such insightful thoughts!” Marcie sighed, “Your intuition
goes deep into the core of the human experience, the collective unconscious of gods and
archetypes and art and ritual, I think. We should paint our naked bodies in red, white and
black, like the natural savages of prehistory, to dance our love with the shamanic spirits, to
celebrate our precious life! I remember what you said this morning, that I could be your
guide at death, your psychopomp I think it’s called. But you know we’ve passed through
that gate, right? You had your brush with life’s fragility, but that’s behind us, and now it’s
only there to make us realise how important our love is, to strengthen the power of our
passion, to delight ourselves in its profoundly deep roots, even as they’re still growing.”
“Aye, our love was born in that moment, from that crisis, in a way,” Ben mused, “And
you’re right, I’m not really worried at all. I don’t think my lungs will suddenly fail now, that
I might die in your arms. But I’m aware of my mortality, our mortality now, and as you say,
it makes me realise how precious this is, this love, this intimacy right here and now.”
“Hmm, yes, intimacy. That’s what this is. I know you’ve been turned on here, maybe
because I’ve encouraged you to fondle my boob. I’ve noticed your heavy breathing and the
hard-on you’ve been pressing against me,” Marcie said, and Ben was about to
apologetically confirm it, but he heard her draw breath as if she had something else to say.
Then, after a moment’s pause, she finally admitted in a low voice, “And maybe you’ve
noticed that I’m getting more and more turned on too, from your touch and just from your
close presence beside me, here beneath the sky, beside the sea. So maybe you noticed that I
couldn’t resist the itch that I felt, in that chalice of my blood’s tides? Despite what you’ve
already done for her this morning, or perhaps because of that, Vixen is aching to melt again.
I’m ashamed and I feel so naughty, but I want to really rub her, to feel those lapping waves
course through me, crashing into foamy surf. Do you mind?”
“Of course not!” Ben assured her, confirming, “I’d like to help, if you don’t mind my
fumbling. I still think we’re okay, that no one is around, but did you want to do it under
your skirt?”
“Yes!” Marcie said eagerly, “I could keep it over my knees if I lie back like this. But you do
so much for me, like this morning’s treat, and it’s your birthday. I want to give you a treat
too. Did you want to get Roddie out for me to play too with while we’re here?”
“Aye, that would be nice,” Ben admitted with a big smile, propping himself up over her and
withdrawing his hand from her breast for now as he went on, “But it’s harder, isn’t it? No
pun intended! I mean, if we’re rolling around here, with my hand under your skirt,
someone might see us and suspect, but they’ll see no more than your bare ankles, maybe.
But if I get Roddie out and they see, well, that really is public indecency, isn’t it? Also, if you
started playing, you know, erm, masturbating me, I don’t know if I could stop, if I’d know
when, or if I’d want to. And if I come, if I ejaculate, I make a much bigger mess than you,
than Vixen’s melting waves.”
“That’s okay,” Marcie reassured him as she reclined on the blanket with her skirt over her
raised knees, smiling too as her hand lay still in her lap, “You can spill a little semen on me,
on my clothes, wherever you like. It all comes out in the wash, and it’s not like we’re going
for tea with the Queen straight after this little picnic, is it? Also, I was going to say that I’d
brought some gel too. I popped it into my handbag just in case. I’m not sure I’ll need it, but
it’s always better to be too slippery than too dry, isn’t it? I’ll find it in a moment, but that
might end up dripping on our clothes too, making more of a mess than Vixen on her own.
But then if anyone sees us walking later and notices stains on our clothes, well, it might be a
bit of spilt cream cheese from our lunch or a snotty sneeze or bird poo or anything at all
really. They can think what they like about a pair of strangers, and if they think the worst,
they can only blame themselves for their suspicious smutty minds. I understand what
you’re saying about getting Roddie out on a public nature reserve though. He can get quite
big and colourful, and we wouldn’t want to scare old spinsters or confuse passing boats,
would we? Could we hide him under my skirt too?”
“How do you mean?” Ben asked, wondering at how he might open his belt and unbutton his
flies to press his swollen penis against her hip under the pulled-up hem of her skirt.
“What if I got on top of you, might that work?” Marcie asked with an uncertain giggle. She
explained, “I don’t want to squash you, but if you were on your back where I am now and I
lay with my back against you, I could maybe put my bum on your hips and spread my knees
a bit so Roddie could stick up just below Vixen, and they would both still be covered by my
big baggy skirt, and there would be plenty of room for us both to muddle around
underneath. Would that work?”
“We can try it,” Ben said eagerly, grinning foolishly despite his uncertainty, he suspected,
as he felt a warm anticipation in his rising heart rate.
Marcie immediately sprung into motion, straightening her legs and pushing herself up, then
wriggling sideways as she sat, directing him to lie down in just the same place that she’d
been in while she found the gel. Ben complied with her instructions as she rummaged in
the bag, feeling the firm sand beneath the rug pressing into his shoulders and the warmth
left by Marcie’s own body as he lay back, keeping his head up as she worked behind him.
Only a moment later, she announced she’d found her prize, then Ben heard her clipped up
the rucksack again and knock it about, perhaps to plump it back into pillowy shape, before
she told him to lean back. He felt a little wave of dizziness as he tilted his head right back
against the crude stuffing of the rough rucksack and looked up into the broken clouds, but
it passed as he took a deliberately slow breath. Then, looking into Marcie’s kind smiling
face as she sat on her folded legs beside him, he wondered aloud about whether to take any
of his own clothes off, but she suggested he could just push his jeans and boxer shorts down
for her.
For a moment he considered jumping up again from his relaxed position to scan the
horizon for unexpected visitors, but he decided to trust to fate now as he went into modest
motion himself. He quickly pulled his shirt up over his bellybutton, undid his belt and
buttons, pushed his hips up, and then boldly shoved his trousers down. He’d deliberately
tangled his fingers in the waist of his boxer shorts as he did this, so that as he slipped
everything down over his thighs, his thickly swollen penis was exposed in its thicket of hair.
As a thrilling waft of cool air touched it, it immediately began straightening out from the
awkward curl that it had been forced into while he’d still been dressed. Feeling a little
ashamed of what he’d done by getting this obscene evidence of his masculine desire out in
public, he passed his hand over it, easing it up so that it lay at an angle across his abdomen.
“Good,” Marcie said with an impish grin as she looked down his body, “I’m glad you
brought him along too for our day out. Now let’s see if I can find a position where I’m not
squashing the life out of you.”
Still gripping the familiar tube of lubricating gel that she’d brought along in one hand, she
pushed herself onto all fours, then twisted crabwise, planting her hands and feet down
heavily around Ben’s prone body, straining a little as she pushed herself up over him. Ben
felt the cotton of her skirt drag across the bare skin of his thighs and penis in a delightful
way as she anxiously asked if what she was doing was all right. Ben eagerly reassured her,
then she urgently told him to lift her skirt so that she could put her bare bum straight down
on him. Ben quickly complied, tugging at the pleated fabric until it lay across his stomach
over his own rucked-up shirt, its edges pooled up by his hips, all hiding Marcie’s own bare
hips and thighs.
Then her warm weight was pressing firmly down on him through his pelvis, trapping his
penis under one of her soft buttocks. He felt her smooth bare thighs jerk against his as she
slid her feet down the outside of his knees and calves, but she’d obviously felt his stiff
manhood, or at least guessed what she’d done, as she apologised, then leant further back
against him, pressing her back to his chest and bringing her head up a little higher beside
his cheek. He felt her twist as she hastily got her free hand under her skirt, still stretched
over her knees, touching his thigh, then groping under her bottom to grasp his erection. He
gasped as she pulled and tucked it into the space between her thighs, where he was sure he
felt the soft tickle of her vulva against the base of his shaft. He felt dizzy again as his blood
rushed into his strengthening arousal, responding to the delicate brush of her pubic hair
and the silky warmth of her slick labia that was now directly against him.
He inhaled deeply, burying his nose in Marcie’s tightly pinned-back hair, ignoring the sharp
pressure of her hair grips, filling his lungs with the fragrance of her perfume, her shampoo
and her hot scalp. She was asking if he was okay, and he assured her that he was,
encouraging her to lie back firmly against his chest, even as her hand still gripped his long
and solid penis. His hands had been idly resting on Marcie’s hips as she’d brought them
down, but now he brought them to her soft stomach beneath her blouse. He experimentally
tried slipping one down her skirt’s elasticated waistband, and found his fingertips moving
smoothly down over the subtle curve of her lower belly to the edge of her pubic hair.
She sighed as his fingers felt their way through her fur and over the long padded mounds of
her outer labia, her own fingers dropping to cup his scrotum. He inhaled sharply in
response, feeling her weight on his chest, and noticed that his erection involuntarily made a
tense spasm, jerking up to brush his sensitive head against the fabric inside her skirt, even
as he recognised the satisfying tugging sensation of his swollen glans finally pushing its
way fully clear of his foreskin. He tried to concentrate on Marcie’s needs though, as he
began to deliberately massage the furry cushions of her outer lips, not daring to approach
her sensitive inner lips or clitoris yet, his other hand vaguely drifting across the silky skin
of her belly.
He heard Marcie sigh in satisfaction as she grasped his penis again, wrapping her small
thumb and forefinger around its collar in an almost rough way, then tugging. Ben jerked at
the intensity of the stimulation, and felt he had to say, “That’s good, but gently please.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” She exclaimed quietly beside him, immediately dropping her hand, but just
to clasp his testicles again with her thumb hooked around the thick base of his shaft, as Ben
was delighted to notice through his tingling body. Whilst he kept tenderly kneading the soft
edges of her vulva, she explained, “Lying like this, I can almost imagine it’s mine, that I’ve
got a penis of my own to play with. It would be so odd, to have this great stem sticking out
between my legs, and this little loose bag beneath, all warm and bristly with its soft stones,
which I know I mustn’t try squeezing. What would I do with it all? I didn’t mean to be
rough, I just put my hand down to find it there, rising from my own arousal as it seemed,
and I grabbed its jolly head without thinking.”
“It’s okay,” Ben murmured in reassurance, “We can do this any time, to let you play and
imagine. You can call it your own too, truly. It’s not for anyone else now. And it feels great,
to be hard, with your hand around me, so close to Vixen. I think I can just feel her lips on me.
But it’s like you say too, like I’m almost stroking myself now, with my fingers in my own
hair, when really it’s yours, massaging that pubic cushion, without touching Roddie. But it’s
better for me if you’re gentle, usually, or only rubbing my head once it’s wet and slippery.
Now though, I want to concentrate on you, without rushing to come, so maybe if you could
just keep holding me, would that be okay?”
“Of course, Ben!” she answered earnestly, twisting her head awkwardly to try and press a
kiss to his cheek, then adding, a little breathlessly, “But I’ve got this gel right here. Let me
put some on both of us.”
Even as he remained lying prone beneath her, his hand at rest on her vulva now, Ben was
aware of Marcie bringing her other hand up underneath her spread skirt. He felt her hand
release his scrotum, heard the muffled click of the cap opening on the tube of lubricant,
then felt her fingertips cautiously touch the back of his head near his frenulum. Though he
could see nothing but the dome of the sky above the fringe of the dune and the edge of
Marcie’s profile, he guessed what was coming next. Sure enough, with a subtle yet familiar
squirting sound, he felt a sudden cool liquid rush across his head, making him shiver and
twitch with delight. He felt the exquisite pressure of Marcie holding his unseen glans more
firmly between fingers and thumb now, but he could tell the lubricant was running down
his shaft. Before it could trickle further down, he pushed his fingers forwards and up his
erect penis to meet Marcie’s as she now wrapped her hand tenderly around his collar.
“That feels lush,” Ben whispered, trembling with arousal, then asked, “Could you squeeze
more on my fingers too, please?”
“As you like, my big birthday boy,” Marcie murmured in response, then he felt her fingers
slip off him to find his hand and spread his own fingers out, before she guided the tip of the
gel’s tube to his fingertips. She must have squeezed the tube again, as Ben felt a sudden wet
surge. Urgently trying to balance the slimy pool without spilling it, he quickly brought his
hand back to Marcie’s vulva. And then it was her turn to shiver as she emitted a small
sound of happy surprise in reaction to the cool gel’s touch. Ben had deliberately pushed his
lubricated fingers between her pursed lips, to stroke up from her vagina to the folds of
fleshy skin around her clitoris.
“That’s wonderfully cool,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his as she pushed her
back against his chest, rolling her hips against his pelvis even as she fumbled to grip his
long erection once again.
Ben was massaging his first and third fingers rhythmically against the fold between her
inner and outer labia now, trying to find a rhythm and the right degree of gentle pressure,
making Marcie gasp and softly moan again. As he let his middle finger drag and brush the
long groove between her lips, he thought she was trying to imitate his strokes as she
twisted and pulled her fingertips around his penis’s slippery collar and frenulum. The
sensations were intense, sending spasms through his shaft, and they would surely have
brought him to orgasm if she carried on, but they seemed almost too much. So, hoping to
pause her inadvertent distraction from his own steady rhythm, he asked her softly, “Marcie,
you’re too good. I won’t last. Please just hold me. Let me stroke your chalice.”
“Yes! My chalice for the Moon, my cup for our mingled briny flow, from the sea to my blood
and your semen,” Marcie said enthusiastically, seizing on the word that he’d casually
remembered her using earlier. She’d not forgotten to comply with his request, as her hand
slipped down his long wooden shaft to rest lazily around its damp base again. But it seemed
her imagination had once again been caught by their earlier discussion as she asked,
“Would you like to make a little ritual of this, for the sea, our hearts and everything else,
like we’ve done before when we’ve made love?”
“Aye, you know I’m happy to try, though I’m not so good with the words,” Ben agreed with
sincerity, even as he deliberately focused on his rhythmic strokes one again. He was quite
sure now that he was dragging more slippery fluid from the rim of Marcie’s vagina than
had ever been in the dollop of gel that he’d applied, and the thought of her being now
loosened by her own arousal was as much of a turn-on for Ben as her fingers’ intensely
stimulating strokes had been. As his hand kept working beneath Marcie’s skirt, he took a
slow deep breath to remain calm, pushing against her weight on his chest and enjoying the
satisfaction of his upright erection in her soft grip, then suggested, “Could you start,
please?”
Chapter 49
Marcie didn’t reply, but Ben was aware of her taking a deep calming breath of her own,
perhaps seizing the moment to enjoy his hand’s strokes herself while she mentally
prepared her playful ceremonial words. Then she began in a steady low tone, “Mother Sea,
cradle of all life, salty essence of our blood and tears, we honour you. Aah, yes. Mother sea,
lying before us now, wrapping our whole planet in your care, you penetrate us and inspire
our love.” She took a deep breath, then her quiet voice rose to an almost pleading tone,
“Mother Sea, formless spirit of the deep and our dreams, witness Ben and Marcie’s union
and flow, here and now!”
Ben guessed it was his turn to say something as she fell silent. His fingers were still moving
steadily, his middle finger trying to deliberately itch the edge of her clitoris now, whilst he
ran his other hand further up beneath her blouse, feeling her ribs and then the mound of
her breast. Cupping it gently, holding her weight against his own chest, feeling his back
pressing into the dune, he gazed up into the sky and spoke the words that came to him,
“Hallowed Land, bones of our ancestors, our roots, deep thrusting, into dark earth, we
thank you. And support our union, we pray.”
Marcie gave a soulful sigh, then almost immediately began intoning her own deliberately
paced words, “Brilliant Sun, solar fire, quickener of life, golden King of the Earth, aah, we
honour you. Shining Sun, day’s eye, let our sap rise, let our turgid buds burst, let our tender
petals open to your light. Oh yes! Blazing Sun, energy giver, please shine on our love’s flow,
today, and every day of our lives.”
Even with Marcie just holding him, Ben felt his solid erection straining upwards in
sympathetic arousal, triggered by the sensations of Marcie’s soft breast and proud nipple
under his hand, by the slippery silky warmth that ran between her lips and over the harder
bud of her clitoris under his fingertips, and by the emotional emphasis that she’d invested
in her quiet yet heavily panted words. He felt his effort barely measured up as he spoke in
turn, “Mother Sky, dome of our starry heaven. Oh Marcie! I’m close. Mother Sky, your
starry body, over us, now, beyond the Sun, every night, immortal, shine on our children,
when we’re gone. For you, Mother, Marcie, child.”
“Oh Ben! Don’t let it go now, if you can help it,” Marcie said urgently, “I want you inside me!
We can consummate this rite, for real now. You can bury your seed in my cwm. Do you
want that?”
“Holy Mother, fuck yes!” Ben exclaimed, losing his rhythm as he froze and tried to relax,
slowing his deep breaths as he firmly held Marcie’s hot greasy vulva in his cupped hand,
“But how?”
“Just like this,” Marcie said urgently, “I’ll get onto my knees above you right now. Is that
okay, facing your toes?”
“Aye, that sounds very good,” Ben admitted, even as he wondered if her plan would work.
But he immediately felt her firm thighs flex as she pulled her hands back and braced herself
against the blanket, already putting her idea into effect. Ben quickly withdrew his own
hands as she began levering herself up into an ungainly kind of squat. He gave a great dizzy
breath as her weight lifted off his chest, but he knew his airways were clear as he drew in
the fresh seaside air. He could feel her slippery lips and ticklish hairs rubbing against his
rigid shaft as she swung upright, but then she’d risen too high to keep in contact and he
was sorry to feel his turgid head slip away from her, still out of sight beneath Marcie’s skirt.
His erection fell down and bounced against his lower abdomen, itself wet with both spilt
lubricant and perspiration from its close contact with Marcie’s buttocks.
Marcie was on her knees now, straddling Ben’s outstretched legs as he lay prone on the
blanket against the dune’s slight slope. All he could see of her was her dark brown pinned-
up hair, the creased cotton of her loose off-white blouse, and her skirt with its red, brown
and orange details lost in the rumpled folds across her wide hips, spreading down across
his own torso and away over her tensed thighs. Still, Ben felt that he was able to take her
whole being in, seeing the stray wisps of loose hair standing out against the open sky,
seeing the moles on the back of her neck beside her pendant’s snake chain, seeing the way
that her blouse’s thin cotton stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades where it was
damp with perspiration, and seeing the dirty soles of her feet stuck out beneath her skirt
beside his own hips.
“Thank you, Marcie,” he said reverentially, “I love you.”
“Oh, shush,” she said quietly in a breathless voice, half turning her head, “Just help me fuck
you now!”
Ben felt a dizzy wave wash over him as he lay beneath Marcie, perhaps as the reality of
what they were about to do struck home. He took a great slow breath as he put one hand
against the rumpled cotton over her hip and reached his other beneath its fabric, finding
his penis and grasping its shaft, lining his first two fingers upright from its tender greasy
head. From the angle of Marcie’s elbows, Ben guessed that she had both her hands under
her skirt. He felt the brush of her pubic hair on his fingertips, and then the heavy pressure
of her warm slippery skin pressing against his glans. She seemed to have come down
slightly off target as his penis slipped up against the edge of her buttocks, but she
immediately flexed, exhaling loudly as she lifted herself a little higher, then lowered herself
to him again.
Ben felt his fingertips touch hers, and he guessed her hands were buried in her vulva,
parting her lips for him. Her slippery skin was against his glans again, and he wriggled his
rigid shaft around against her, until it seemed he found a groove within the folds of her
vulva. Suddenly Marcie came down hard against him, forcing his hand out of the way with
the inner edge of her thigh. Ben felt himself slipping into her with a mind-numbing thrill of
pure bliss, and involuntarily panted out a gasping groan, which he realised Marcie echoed
in the same moment with her own anxiously muffled cry.
Her deliciously warm vagina was all around his wooden erection, and he was aware of a
guilty gratitude to Marcie for her decision to go on the Pill, allowing him to feel her silky
skin enclose him directly like this, without the need for a Featherlite rubber barrier. His
chest was already heaving as he withdrew his hand and clasped both Marcie’s hips in his
grip, and Marcie was rolling those hips against him, rising into a rhythmic bounce now. Ben
heard her panting herself as they shared the sensation of his big slippery stem penetrating
her vagina and rubbing against its edge toward her perineum. He felt his heart hammering
with the intensity of the moment as his arousal blissfully rose towards its peak, which he
was almost as eager to reach now as he was to prolong the moment.
And at that moment, Ben was startled to feel spots of cold rain touching his face. He looked
up into the sky and saw the clouds to their left obscured by a grey smudge. He laughed at
the spectacularly unfortunate timing of the shower’s arrival, stupidly saying, “It’s raining.”
“We go on,” Marcie said firmly as she rolled her hips against him, pressing her bum against
his pubic hair whilst he rose into her. He heard a breathlessness to her voice as she went on,
“It’s the sky, it’s the natural world, it’s the sea’s water, blessing us.”
Marcie’s actions were becoming more active, and as the light drizzle misted his face, Ben
saw her pull her hands out from under her skirt and raise her arms. He watched her
shoulder blades flex as she stretched them out towards the horizon, then raised them
above head, clasping her hands together as she arched her back, softly vocalising a kind of
high rhythmic whooping cry. But Ben realised her stretch had been too much as he felt
himself slipping away under her bouncing motion. He urgently tried to roll his hips back,
but after just two strokes his utterly turgid erection, bending under Marcie’s position,
sprang forwards out of her vagina and tangled in the fabric of her skirt.
“Oh, Ħaqq Alla!” Marcie exclaimed, falling forwards onto her hands again as the light rain
drifted on. As the cool water dampened his cheeks, Ben wondered if she was ready to carry
on, as he wished with an almost painfully eager desire, but she’d already sprung into
motion as she said decisively, “Wait, let’s try it like this.”
Still keeping her back to him, she pulled one foot forward, crouching now on just one knee,
balancing with her hand to the ground, urgently fumbling under her skirt with her other
hand. Ben felt her fingers touch his hugely engorged penis and rushed to slip his own hand
back under her skirt and her buttocks to help her. Together they held his slippery shaft up,
and Ben felt the bristly touch of pubic hair as well as the silky heat of her smooth inner lips
as he pressed himself gratefully against her vulva.
“Oh, my knee!” Marcie said in frustration, and Ben feared for the pain that she’d maybe felt
in this awkward stretch. But she didn’t pause as she now pulled her other knee up so that
she was truly squatting over him, her shoulders hunched, and her skirt arrayed around her
legs and his hips. Ben held his hidden erection upright as he watched the back of her neck,
imaging the look of concentration and flushed arousal on her face, then he felt her lips
brush the tip of his head as he wondered himself if this would work. He was aware of
Marcie’s hand fiddling against her vulva as she hovered over him, when all at once he
seemed to feel her part for him, opening the profane portal into her body, as she grunted
and came down firmly over him once more.
Ben tried to strain upwards himself in his eagerness to engage in this exquisite coupling
once more, yet he was still pinned to the firm dune by Marcie’s weight. She was bouncing
up and down now, making small high-pitched noises with her panting breaths, even as the
light rain thinned, and Ben could feel his penis slipping up and down easily within her
supremely comfortable vagina. He grasped her waist with his hands, then frantically
fumbled under her loose blouse to put his palms to her bare skin, warm despite the chill of
her slightly dampened clothes. She still had her hands forward, one planted firmly on the
ground and the other against her pubic mound, Ben guessed. He thought he could feel the
brush of her fingertips on the side of his thick shaft as it rose up into her at moments in her
bumping thrusts. It excited him, yet he imagined her primary intent was to keep her lips
parted for him, or perhaps put pleasant pressure on her clitoris. Yet despite her arms’
braced position, Ben found he could still slip his hands around Marcie’s chest under her
tensed biceps, inevitably bringing his fingertip into contact with her unseen swaying
breasts.
He gasped as he felt their soft weight bumping against his outstretched fingers. He could
sense that his erection was as big as it could possibly be for him now as he relished the
euphoric sensation of Marcie’s naked grip around him, slipping up and down in a fast
rhythm, and he knew this was the most perfect experience that his basic animal being could
ever encompass. But by brushing Marcie’s soft breasts with his wide hands, feeling their
velvety mass bounce against his palms, and brushing her stiffly proud nipples with his
fingertips, the exquisite intensity was heightened even further.
When the first pulse of his orgasm came, it felt so intense that it was like a part of his
immortal soul departing through the root of his manhood. It seemed as if the essence of
those ancestors, and all the other vital breeding beings on Earth too, was passing out from
his intensely alive body up into Marcie’s. With this molten spurt, he was gladly giving a part
of his life away, his primitive masculine being erupting euphorically from him in the vain
attempt to plant new life in Marcie’s feminine cauldron. His whole being was invested in
this moment, pumping his seed into her chalice to brew their unborn child, perhaps waiting
even now in the distant future. But the climactic pulse was also an instant of ultimate
personal joy, especially for him, but he hoped Marcie too, in the utter fusion of their
passionate love. It brought a profound sensual gratification that rushed in a tingling wave
from the root of his penis out through his body to his scalp in this moment of completion.
These ideas and sensations flashed thorough his mind in an instant as he released the first
jerking wave of warm semen directly into Marcie’s vagina, flooding her cervix, spilling his
sperm across that unseen inner shoreline at the edge of her magical womb. He was aware
that he’d groaned in that moment of sexual satisfaction, but Marcie didn’t seem to pause in
her pumping squats, and her softly wailing breaths, still forcing him up, deep into herself,
time and time again. He felt his body becomes enslaved to that rhythm as he lay back,
seemingly sinking into the sand now, letting his stupefying orgasm come over his shaking
body with its own involuntary and uncontrollable beating pulse now.
The moment stretched out as his hands gripped Marcie’s breasts and the soft rain struck
his face, but he released her as he came back to his senses, feeling Marcie’s pace slow to a
stop above him. She tried to twist around to face him, but she barely managed a glance over
her shoulder before she twisted back again with a panting sigh, hanging her head. She
exclaimed breathily, “Holy Mary, I felt you go deep there! But my knees, I’m sorry, I’ve got
to move.”
“I’m sorry too,” Ben echoed as Marcie stiffly rose up in her squat and his big slippery penis,
already softening, oozed gently from her vagina, falling heavily into the depression
between his thigh and abdomen. As he rested his hands on her waist and felt the misty rain
thin away into nothing, he explained, “I wanted you to carry on, so much, until I came. It felt
so good, despite the rain, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry if I was pushing too hard.”
“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” Marcie reassured him, as she tried to glance over her shoulder
again, letting Ben glimpse her profile and notice the droplets of water beading her glasses.
She put her fists firmly down to the blanket on either side of his hips, saying, “Just a
moment. Is it okay if I lie down against you again, like before?” Ben agreed, and as she
began stretching her legs out, he rearranged her skirt across his stomach so that she
wouldn’t sit on it. As she lay down against him, pressing her thighs against his, her buttocks
to his pelvis, and then her back to his chest, she explained in turn, “I wanted you to carry on
too. I’d hoped it would be like those other times when you’ve been behind me, the time in
the ash tree especially, when I could come just by Roddie pressing me in the right way. But
it wasn’t quite like that, and my knees were getting stiff, so I couldn’t truly focus on the
feeling of you inside me. Don’t worry, they’re fine now, and I didn’t mind that bit of rain at
all! It was actually rather magical I thought. It’s been a magical way to celebrate your
birthday, making love to you out here under the open sky.”
“But don’t you want to carry on?” Ben asked, resting his hands across hers now, where
she’d laid them over her lower belly, “I could stroke Vixen again, like I did before.”
“Oh Ben, you know you don’t need to give me an orgasm every time that you have one
yourself,” Marcie said with a sigh, even as Ben felt her fingers twitch against her skirt’s
pleated cotton.
“But you can have one now, if you want. There’s time, and I think you were turned on,” Ben
argued.
“Oh I was, I am!” Marcie assured him, definitely itching her fingers into the nest between
her thighs now, rubbing her hard-used vulva through her skirt. She went on in a dreamy
voice, “I wish I had a buzzy toy here now, so I could just turn it on and let myself pop. I
don’t want you to worry about making it work for me though. Maybe I could just have a
little fiddle about while we lie here to see if it goes anywhere, and you could just hold me. Is
that okay? And I’m really not squashing you like this am I?”
“I’m fine,” Ben reassured her, even though he was indeed aware of her weight pressing
down on his ribcage as his heavy breathing returned to normal. He raised his hands to hug
her lightly around her own ribs, below her breasts, as he said, “Just relax, take your time,
and see where it goes, as you say. I’m happy, floating in heaven, after coming inside you like
that. It felt like I was leaving my body, giving myself up, flowing into you, giving you my
life’s essence, passing on life from generations before, sharing life with all creatures, trying
to be fertile with you, in our love. I’ll shut up now, to let you concentrate, to enjoy the peace
of this place.”
“Hmm, yes,” Marcie murmured, both her hands now tucked under her skirt’s waistband,
Ben had noticed. She gave a great sigh, then said, “Thank you for your seed. It’s so good to
feel it inside me now, making me all gooey. And the peace of this place…”
Ben expected her to finish her sentence, but her voice seemed to have petered out, perhaps
as she lost her train of thought to the distracting sensations that her fingers were bringing
to her, rubbing her vulva and her clitoris in ways that he could only guess at. He held her to
him with his arms around her, one hand now resting on the damp cotton over her breast,
one underneath on her bellybutton, some way above her own twitching hands. He listened
to her steady, heavy breathing, hearing its slightly ragged rhythm as she drew in air
through her teeth, sometimes vocalising tiny sighs or quiet moans as she exhaled. He didn’t
want to disturb her focus by saying anything aloud, yet he felt a profoundly tender love for
her as she opened the path to her own satisfaction whilst her body’s weight bore down
through him.
Ben tried to open up his own awareness of this moment in sympathy, the contended
satisfaction of his own thoroughly gratifying orgasm still lingering from the core of his belly
to the tips of his toes and the crown of his rain-dampened head. He gazed up into sky,
which was clearing to a wide pale blue again now, and breathed slowly and steadily against
the pressure of Marcie’s back. He listened carefully for more distant sounds too, hearing
the muted rumbling crump of the sea’s waves and the calls of the birds all around them. He
picked out the distant voice of the skylark especially, and he imagined the male bird aloft
on the air, feeling a sense of wonder at his ceaseless lyrical music, knowing he sang on a
circular breath. Ben wondered if the tiny bird felt himself gasping for air as he followed his
compulsion to perform, struggling to fill his tiny lungs as the air spun in and out to make
the flowing notes, charming his mate, claiming his small patch of ground for their offspring.
He felt an empathy for the unseen short-lived wild bird, breathless in his love, striving to
express something of precious beauty whilst he could.
Ben had noticed Marcie’s own breaths getting a little quicker and more forced too as she
continued to fidget in his arms. Now she drew an especially sharp in-breath and held it,
then panted once, emitting an almost birdlike keening sound herself, and gasped again. He
felt his guess that she was very close to her climax was confirmed when she exhaled
sharply again and whispered, “Omm Alla, that’s it! I’m home!”
After these short exclamatory bursts, Marcie gasped in his arms, stifling a cry in her throat,
her own arms going tense, along with the muscles of her shoulders, buttocks and thighs as
they pressed against Ben. Then something mysterious that he could only imagine shivered
through her whole body. She puffed rapidly, moaning an anxiously pleading “ooh” with
each shuddering out-breath, then she exclaimed heavily, “Fuck, yes, Ben, Qaddisa Marija!”
She suddenly went limp in Ben’s embrace, sighing heavily as the flowing release passed
over her. Ben did his best to snuggle against her, his hand still tenderly held to her belly
and breast, as her powerful breaths deepened and slowed.
“Oh Ben, thank you for your patience,” she murmured after a moment, pressing the side of
her head with its springy hair against his jawline. She explained, “I had to let go. I had to
forget my worries about walkers and tides, even forget about you, squashed beneath me,
for just a moment there. But it worked! The sea’s waves came all the way over me, from
deep in my cwm, right through my body and bursting out through the top of my head.
Mother of God, I’m so wet! It’s your lovely semen, and some of that gel too, but I must have
oozed half a pint myself.”
“There’s no need for thanks. I love that you could go all the way. I love you, Marcie. But are
you saying, about being wet, that there was a bit of a squirt again?” Ben asked with prurient
curiosity.
“No!” Marcie laughed lightly, “Just my lubrication, from your stroking, and then the
excitement of taking you like that, ramming your piston up into my oily chamber when I
couldn’t even see your face, staring sightlessly out to the sky and sea instead. Ooh, I can feel
it moving again now, with the aftershocks!”
Ben guessed she meant that there must still be pulses flowing through her vaginal muscles
as she shivered in his arms, and he smiled to himself at the thought of the thrill that those
perhaps brought her. But then he felt a warm gush leaking down onto him from the gap
between her buttocks and thighs, squeezed from her cwm, trickling into his pubic hair.
Next he felt this fluid inevitably oozing its way under gravity, finding its way around the
base of his softened penis and his testicles, into the crease between his own buttocks, and
from there down onto the picnic blanket he guessed. With a light chuckle of his own, he
admitted “I felt that! I think you just returned my little present.”
“Returned with interest!” Marcie laughed, pulling her hands up to grip his now. Ben felt a
greasy dampness on her warm fingers, making his mind race with thoughts of where that
dampness had come from and where those fingers had just been. Marcie’s mind seemed to
be turning to practical matters though as she asked, “Do you want to try mopping it up? We
should have brought a towel. Ooh, there’s the kitchen roll, if that’s not too rough.”
She’d already dropped his hands to grope around amongst the scattered remains of their
picnic, exclaiming “Aha!” as she evidently grasped it, beyond Ben’s line of sight as he still
lay pinned beneath her. He could see her raise the roll up and tear of two sheets, passing
one to him and keeping one herself as she shoved her hand under her skirt again. “Ooh, a
piece of sandpaper wouldn’t be much rougher!” she remarked with a chuckle as Ben felt
her levering herself up onto her feet and elbows. Then she asked, “Shall I get off you at last?
Are you ready to slip up your kecks if I move? We still don’t want to leave Roddie hanging
en plein air, do we? He might catch a cold, and then we’d be in real trouble with the mess
from his sneezes!”
“Aye, let’s make the move,” Ben agreed with a smirk, having managed to fit his hands
under Marcie’s hips to at least give his genitals a cursory wipe. He’d rolled the tough sheet
of kitchen roll around his penis and scrotum before shoving it down into the mess pool
beneath, also slipping his foreskin up over his slightly tender glans at the same time, so he
hoped that would be enough to avoid soaking his boxer shorts through at least.
With a small grunt and a muttered “Oops,” Marcie heaved herself across Ben’s prone body
to land beside him, giving her skirt a tug and a flick across her stretched-out knees to get it
off his stomach and hips. Ben felt a flicker of alarm that his sticky shrunken manhood had
suddenly been exposed, but he quickly pulled up his boxer shorts, arching his back, then
wriggled to pull his jeans up, moving slightly to one side. He saw the slimy smear on the
blanket that he had indeed been sitting on and wiped at it ineffectually with the dirty piece
of kitchen roll, before casting that aside and shuffling his bum back over the guilty stain to
get closer to Marcie as he buttoned his flies and tied his belt.
It was only then that he looked up into her face as she reclined on her hip beside him,
propped up on one elbow, smiling eagerly as she gazed down on him. He saw the slight
disarray of her hair around her damp face, beads of rainwater still on her glasses, her
cheeks somewhat flushed and, further down, her limp blouse hanging from her shoulders,
though he shamefully noticed that the thin cotton had not got so wet that it clung to her
breasts. As he looked up into her eyes again, he felt a surge of affection, as if her somewhat
dishevelled state gave her a vulnerability and an honesty that only enhanced her exotic
feminine beauty, devoid of any artificial aids to her glamour, yet glowing with an innate
natural beauty and an evidently powerful sexual potency.
Chapter 50
“Well, that was one to remember,” Marcie said as she lay her hand tenderly on Ben’s chest,
“Being utterly intimate with you, yet turned away from you too so that it felt as if we were
giving ourselves to the sea and the sky, especially when we were blessed by the rain!”
“Aye, I hope so,” Ben agreed sincerely, thinking that the moment he’d planned might be on
them. He went on, “I mean, I hope we really will remember this, as a special day, a special
moment.”
“Of course we will, Ben,” Marcie assured him, but she seemed to have caught the hint of
something else behind his words. Even as she kept smiling, she gave a slight frown and
raised a thick eyebrow, asking, “Was there something else on your mind?”
“Well, Marcie, actually there is,” Ben said, feeling his heart hammer in his chest now that he
was finally going through with it, yet he knew he was grinning like a fool once more at the
thought of what was about to happen. He clasped Marcie’s hand as he rolled onto his side,
then pushed himself up onto his knees, suggesting, “Shall we stand up to do this properly?”
“Do what, Ben?” Marcie asked with deep suspicion now, even as she smiled back at him and
went along with his suggestion, taking both his hands now as they rose stiffly to their feet
facing each other.
Ben took a deep breath, staring down into her eyes now with an intensity that she mirrored,
knowing with absolute certainty that she was now the true centre of his world, his reason
for being. He was blind to the wide sky and the peaceful dunes and the rolling sea, just as he
was deaf to the whispering wind and the wild birds, yet he was glad of all that making the
backdrop for what he was about to do. He solemnly dropped one of Marcie’s hands and dug
deep in the pocket of his jeans to find the tiny box he’d smuggled away from the back of the
bedroom drawer earlier. Then he fell to one knee on the blanket-covered sand before
Marcie.
At that moment she must have suddenly guessed what he planned, as she dropped his
other hand and covered her mouth, emitting a soft high-pitched cry of surprise and
urgently whispering, “Qaddisa Marija! You’re not about to do what I think you’re doing, are
you Ben?”
Ben gazed up into her wide eyes, already sparkling with welling tears behind her rain-
spattered glasses, as he opened the box in front of her, raising it up so she could see the
platinum ring with its modest solitaire diamond. He took another deep breath, then
solemnly said, “I love you Marcie. You are my Sun and my stars, the light of my whole life,
from now on, into our shared future, I truly wish. So will you say you’ll join me on that
course, Marcie? Will you marry me?”
“Oh Ben!” Marcie cried aloud with a wracking sob, falling to her knees before him too and
clasping his proffered hands with a desperate grip, “Yes! Yes of course I will! I didn’t know
you’d ask, not so soon, but it’s right isn’t it? You’re right. We’re ready for it. Holy Mary,
you’re the love of my life, I’m sure of it! Yes, I’ll marry you, Benjamin Osborne, and we’ll
sail our little boat together, into a shared future, just as you say. It’s your little phrase, ‘We
are two become one’. I know that deep within the roots of my being, from my fluttering
heart, my liquid cwm, my aching soul.”
With that she threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck and
squashing his raised hands and the precious little box to her breasts. He felt her body shake
as she sobbed again, and then she pulled back, taking his head in her hands as she stared
searchingly into his eyes. Ben saw the tears on her cheeks, the red rims of her own eyes,
and even a dibble of mucus beading on her nose. She must have realised how she looked as
she laughed, wiping her sleeve across her face. Then she looked down at the ring again,
with an open smile on her wide mouth even as the tears kept welled on her long eyelashes.
Ben saw these even more clearly when she took her glasses off to wipe them on her shirt,
saying, “I’m so sorry. I’m making a right scene, and you’d planned this all so beautifully I
realise now. Are you sure you still want to go through with your proposal, seeing how
quickly I can get into such a state?”
“Of course I’m sure, Marcie,” Ben reassured her with utter sincerity as she slipped her
glasses back on and raised his eyes to his once again, “You are a beautiful shining goddess
to me, even now, especially now. And you know I love you, heart and soul, not just for your
bewitching feminine beauty.”
“Oh Ben, I’d say don’t tease,” Marcie laughed, having lifted her arms to cradle his head in
her hands once more, “But I know that a part of you at least quite seriously believes all
that.”
“And part of you does too,” Ben said calmly, “What were you saying, in our little play-acting
ritual? ‘Mother Sea, salt of our blood.’ You’re admitting it, the supreme goddess we imagine,
she’s in you.”
“And the Sun god is in you, in your warm heart and your bright soul, my beautiful fit
boyfriend,” Marcie said, smiling wholeheartedly as she twined her fingers through his hair.
“Your fiancé now, if you’ll put this ring on,” Ben prompted.
“Oh yes. I’ve already said yes, haven’t I?” she replied with an embarrassed giggle, then
looked seriously into his face again. She gripped his hair firmly, then moved her hands to
touch his face, pressing her fingers to his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones
and his lips with an almost confused concentration on her own tear-streaked face. She
murmured, “You are real, aren’t you? We are really here on Lindisfarne and you have
genuinely proposed marriage to me, this isn’t just a dream, right?”
“You’re right, this is our real life, right now,” Ben calmly reassured her, then he carefully
took the ring from the box, which he set aside. With his other hand he pulled Marcie’s left
hand down between them, holding its palm towards the ground to stretch out her fingers,
which he noticed were still slightly tacky from the mess they’d been making together
earlier. Then he asked formally, “Would you like to wear this ring now, Marcie, for me?”
“Oh Ben, yes I would,” Marcie replied with just as much serious gravity in her tone. And
with that, Ben eased the ring onto her third finger with its diamond uppermost. He was
very glad that it seemed to fit her well, and that the sketched circle he’d surreptitiously
taken from one of her other rings to show to the jeweller in Whitley Bay had been good
enough. He raised his eyes to Marcie’s, to catch her raising hers with a kind of surprised
happiness from the ring that she’d been staring at too.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, and then finally, without saying another word, Ben leant
forwards to kiss her. Her lips were soft as he pressed his to them, experimentally brushing
them with the tip of his tongue, then she relaxed her jaw just a little more and touched her
tongue to his. Their kiss grew, with Ben lifting his free hand to the back of Marcie’s neck,
just as hers held his crown, even whilst their other hands remained tangled around the
hard loop of platinum on Marcie’s finger, squashed between their chests. Ben felt the
intimacy of their contact, hearing the very human squelch of her squashed nose as well as
the sensitive brush of her exhaled sigh passing across his mouth from hers. He tasted the
salt of her tears and felt a languid yearning in their mouths as their lips and tongues grazed
the other’s. But it seemed to Ben as if they both knew that they’d done all they needed to
do with their bodies for the time being, and their tender kiss naturally parted without
descending into the hungry chaotic passion they’d shared earlier.
“I was thinking, shall we have another sip of wine, to celebrate the moment?” Ben asked as
he pulled back a little.
“I feel as we’ve had quite a big celebration already, in my knees and Vixen!” Marcie laughed,
“But that does sound like a great idea, to christen our new commitment and status, if that
doesn’t all sound too serious.”
“It is serious, I’ve been serious, popping the big question, but you’ve proved it was the
right thing to do,” Ben said, sinking from his own aching knee to crawl towards the bottle
he’d left in the chiller bag, which was luckily still upright, retrieving the plastic glasses too.
“Yes, and this looks like a serious sparkler you’ve invested in,” Marcie remarked, holding
the ring up close to her eyes for the first time. “How much did you spend on it, or shouldn’t
I ask?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Ben shyly confirmed, passing a glass over and pouring the wine,
“But I wanted the real deal for you. The jeweller told me the carat number and its rating,
for colour and flaws. It’s written down somewhere. It’s called an emerald cut too,
apparently, though it is a real diamond. And he explained platinum is tougher, that it keeps
its look better than white gold.”
“It sounds like it’s a bespoke piece. I really hope you didn’t overdo it,” Marcie said
anxiously.
“You don’t need to worry. It is a one-off, but it will last a lifetime, right? You know Dad gave
me a bit of money, and the compensation will come in soon too,” Ben tried to reassure her.
“Oh, Ben, I hope you did the right thing. But it is truly lovely, it’s really beautifully made,
and a real rock too! I’m a very lucky girl, in so many ways. And it’s not even my birthday!
Saħħa, to us!” Marcie concluded, raising her glass.
“Aye, to us, and to a very long and happy future, together,” Ben agreed, touching his plastic
glass to hers, then knocking back a big part of the small measure of warm fizzy wine that
he’d poured himself in one gulp.
At that moment they were suddenly startled to hear a man’s voice call out, “Hail,
strangers!” They both jerked around, Ben nearly spilling what was left in his cup, to see a
pair of elderly smiling faces looming over the edge of the dune, barely ten paces away. Ben
imitated Marcie as she raised her hand to give a little wave and cautious greeting in
response.
The heavy-set man had a crown of wild white hair around his happy round face, whilst the
woman seemed far more elegant, with high cheekbones and a sharp dignified nose, her
silver hair swept back to show off an impressive array of silver earrings. Her glossy red lips
wore a broad smile that reached the wrinkled creases around her eyes as she spoke up
with a clear voice, taking a few steps forwards, “We are so sorry to disturb you, but my
friend and I were wandering the dunes to do a little birdwatching, scouting about
somewhat independently, when I caught a glimpse of you going down on one knee, young
man. I rushed to find my friend, but may I ask, did I just witness a very special moment in
your shared stories?”
“Aye, I guess so,” Ben said, feeling a little embarrassed to have been seen, yet also at ease
with this seemingly kind and friendly couple. “Please come closer. You can help us
celebrate, though the wine’s a bit warm.”
“You said yes then, my dear?” the woman said, beaming at Marcie as she led the man over
the edge of the dune. Ben saw now that what he’d taken to be a black pinafore dress was
actually a pair of motorcyclist’s leather dungarees, or bib-and-brace jeans as he thought
they were known, which the woman wore over her loose long-sleeved blue blouse. The
man likewise wore tough biker’s trousers below his own baggy shirt and embroidered
waistcoat, though this was pulled askew by the thick strap of a courier’s satchel slung
across his body. Ben wondered at the relationship between these two “friends”, as the
woman had described them, guessing that they’d ridden out to Holy Island together.
“Yes,” Marcie said happily in answer to the woman’s question, “Ben and I are engaged now.
You’re the first to know. We came here to celebrate his birthday, but he surprised me. I’m
Marcie by the way.”
“We’re very pleased to meet you, Marcie, and happy birthday Ben,” the woman said,
stepping close enough to shake hands, “I’m Marion, and this is Graham. We’re honoured to
have found ourselves as spectators to your big event. Please trust our sincerity when we
offer you our heartfelt congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Marcie said once she’d cautiously shaken Marion’s hand and then Graham’s,
perhaps with a hint of suspicion, or just some embarrassment of her own. She bravely
added, “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better blow my nose. Ben’s surprise was a rather
emotional moment.”
“Of course dear,” Marion reassured her with a brush on her arm, “I must apologise for
intruding, once again, but I just thought it was such a wonderful scene. I’m a performer
myself, you see, and Graham is a stage manager, amongst other things, so we’re perhaps in
the habit of thinking and hoping that there’s an appreciative audience out there for us. We
maybe presume that others live their lives that way too, and would be gratified to know
that their work is admired.”
Ben had happily shaken both their hands by now too, noticing the contrast between
Graham’s big beefy grasp and the delicate grip of Marion’s long slender hand. As Marcie
bent down to tear off a piece of kitchen roll then rise and turn away to dab her face and
blow her nose, he spoke for them both, saying “Don’t apologise. It’s nice actually, that
someone else saw. It is a special occasion. I’m very happy that Marcie said yes, and I’d be
happy to tell the whole world our news. I think you’d agree, wouldn’t you love? You said
something, when we first got together, about standing on the street and shouting, ‘We’re in
love!’ Will you share some of this wine, to say cheers together? You can have my glass,
Marion, if Graham doesn’t mind taking a swig from the bottle, with me. I hope just a
mouthful will be fine, if you’re riding your bike later.”
“Bikes, actually,” Graham admitted, “A brace of Hogs. The mob’s gathered down by the
Abbey. Mine’s a Wide Glide, Marion’s on a Sportster. And thanks for the offer to wet our
whistles, I’ll take you up on that. Do you ride?”
“No,” Ben answered, topping up his glass and passing it to Marion, then offering to pour
more to Marcie now that she’d dabbed her nose and turned back into the small circle that
they’d made, standing around on the sloping sand. But then he admitted, “I did when I was
younger, borrowing my brother’s dirt bike. We grew up on a farm, you see? But I never had
more than my CBT. We got here in Marcie’s purple Ford Ka today, safe and sensible.
Anyway, cheers! Take the bottle. It’s nice to have met you both, and thanks for joining us.”
“No, thank you for giving us the treat of your little spectacle today, and for letting us share
your prenuptial cup,” Marion said in her theatrical way with a beaming smile, “And let me
raise a proper toast. Do you mind a bit of Heathen jibber-jabber on this Viking coastline?
Well, here goes,” she said, once Ben and Marcie had both assented to her suggestion, then
paused, clearing her throat and shaking out her shoulders, before continuing in a
surprisingly loud and deep voice, “Hail Odin, all-father, may the gods and our ancestors
hear my toast. Hail Frigg, beloved mother, may you bless those who would braid the thread
of Norns together in love. Hail Thor, thundering bear, may you protect these newly
betrothed, and all your people. Skaal!”
As Marion finished with a ringing shout, she threw back her small measure of fizzy wine,
spilling some down her chin as she gulped it down. Graham immediately echoed the sense
of her last word by calling out “Good health!” before tipping the bottle up to his lips, then
passing it to Ben as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Marcie took her cue, raising her own cup and clearly saying her familiar “Saħħa!”, at which
Ben noticed Marion raising a curious eyebrow.
For his part, he thought of the Gaelic toast and the Celtic monks who were on this island too,
as he intoned “Slàinte mhath!” then raised the bottle to his own lips to take just a sip of the
hard-used wine.
“Well, that went rather well I thought,” Marion said with a wide grin, “Whatever you
thought of the words, I hope they added a sense of occasion to the moment. You’ll be able
to tell your friends about this, your children and grandchildren too perhaps, when you
come back to this spot to reminisce about the moment you decided to truly make a go of it
together. By the time you’re our age and we’re long gone, you’ll be able to say ‘Do you
remember love? We met an old pair of weirdos from Berwick, who spied your grandad
going down on one knee to give me this ring. They tried to give us a half-arsed Heathen
blessing, then pinched some of our wine!’ Is that about right?”
Ben laughed, and said, “Aye, I can picture the scene. I hope we can find just this spot again,
when we come back.”
Then Marcie added, “But what Ben’s not said is that we actually quite like that half-arsed
Heathen approach ourselves. Look, I’m even wearing a silver Mjölnir that Ben gave me,”
she added, pulling the pendant up from the open collar of her blouse. Marion was amazed,
and wanted to admire it more closely, which Marcie helped her to do by holding it out to
her hand whilst she kept its long chain around her neck. Marion showed it to Graham, who
remarked that it was very well done, but then quickly stepped back again and looked away,
almost as if he were embarrassed Ben thought.
Marcie went on, “We wouldn’t claim we followed Ásatrú, nor Wicca or any other specific
Pagan path, but we’re quite into the idea of the mythic gods and goddesses at work in our
lives today, wouldn’t you say love? I was quite into my A-Level classics too, and I guess I
see those stories as tapping into what Carl Jung called the collective unconscious, which is
very much alive and at work in our real lives. Do you know what I mean? Anyway, they’re
all much more colourful and exciting than my Roman Catholic Sunday School stories.”
“Ah, an imaginative and sceptical cradle Catholic,” Marion said with a knowing smile, “I can
sympathise with that, Marcie. But Ben, you said you wanted to be sure to find this spot
again. What do you think about bringing a big stone from the beach up here to mark just
the right nook in the dunes? Graham could help you lift a large one that wouldn’t be kicked
away by a casual rambler. If neither of you mind, I can linger here with Marcie and perhaps
compare notes on our liberation from the Papal dominion.”
“Aye, that’s a great idea,” Ben said, “If you’re okay with it love, and Graham too?”
Marcie and Graham both assured him they were, then Ben put his boots on and checked he
had his inhaler, thinking of the heavy lifting coming up, before heading toward the
shoreline with the man who he was already thinking of as a new friend. They came down
on a rather unpromising beach of shingle that gave way to mud below the high tide line, yet
they spotted some larger boulders just a short distance away. As they walked, Ben
remarked, “It was a funny coincidence, Marion spotting me just as I went down on one
knee.”
Graham was silent for a moment, looking guiltily down at his feet, then he admitted, “She
spotted the two of you earlier, actually. Maybe I shouldn’t say, but we heard a noise. We
thought it was a strange bird, but when Marion peeped over the edge of the dune, she saw
you both I imagine, then turned to frantically wave me back. She slunk away to where I was
crouching and explained what she’d seen, that there was a young couple making love on
the sand. Then she told me to retrace our steps and walk around in a wide circle to make
sure no one disturbed you. You picked a good spot. I didn’t see anyone else, though
perhaps that was also because there was a little shower of rain right then. But I imagine
that didn’t put you off. Marion stayed not far from where you were, checking when the
coast was clear without spying on you I imagine. She’s not like that. She’s a wonderful kind
human being. I must say though, I’m actually rather jealous. I wish I’d carried on like that a
bit more when I was your age. I think it’s wonderful that you proposed to the charming
young woman, but it’s just as wonderful that you did so right after the two of you had such
an intimate moment on the magical Holy Island, in the bosom of nature as it were.”
Ben had been very embarrassed to hear Graham’s confession, but as he listened, he
thought that perhaps it had been for the best that it was these two who’d found them,
rather than a prudish pair of pensioners or a family with young children for example. He
found he was actually very grateful to Graham for being the unknown guardian of their
privacy, and he also felt a strong sympathy for the old man, who clearly had a strong
affection for his companion. He tried to express all this as he said, “Well, thank you for
telling me that, Graham. I’m sorry we weren’t more careful, but I’m glad you and Marion
didn’t mind, well, that you didn’t call in the police for example, for our public indecency.
And thank you for looking out for us too. I’m glad you both thought to guard us, to protect
our private moment, and I’m glad you told me the whole story. We really do owe you.”
“Oh, it was nothing, really,” Graham said, as they mooched about some likely looking stones,
“We were enjoying the walk anyway. It made sense to linger and keep your privacy safe.
We really weren’t being peeping Toms, you know? And we’ll keep it to ourselves. No one
else will know, well, apart from the bit about seeing you propose and get engaged. That’s a
nice thing to share I think.”
“Aye, thank you, again,” Ben said. He squatted to try lifting a seemingly flat rock, but when
he tried getting his fingers under the wet muddy sand around its base, he realised it was
much thicker than he’d thought and firmly embedded in the ground. As they moved on he
asked, “And do thank Marion for us. Also for her little toast. It was a wonderfully suitable
rite, if she’d just conjured it up. She must be great on stage. I’m sorry Marcie and me don’t
follow that stuff, well, not really, so far. But can I ask, are you two married? Could you tell
me how you got engaged?”
Graham laughed at this, then explained, “Oh no! She’s rather out of my league, don’t you
think? We’ve been friends since we were your age, but she was married to someone else
for many years, as I was too. She divorced him in the end, as my wife did me, though that’s
all a long time ago now too. I know she’s had other lovers since then, but I’m sorry to say I
can’t really claim to have been one of them. Still, I’ve tried to always keep in touch ever
since college, through her brush with fame, then on into the hinterland of walk-on TV parts
and amateur dramatics. I’ve followed her from Ashram to Zen dojo too, and now into
Heathenry, enjoying them all thanks to her enthusiasm, by seeing them through her
hopeful eyes. So now I’m just grateful for her friendship, and I cherish the times that we do
spend together. Perhaps the little adventure that we’ve had today will bring us a bit closer
too. I should be thanking you maybe, for inadvertently putting on such an inspiring show
for us, even if we didn’t stop to watch the main act! Here, what about this one?”
Ben was interested by the insight into Graham’s personal history with Marion, thinking
that it sounded as if she were almost a muse to him, but he didn’t want to be too nosy.
Instead he checked the seaweed-strewn rock that Graham had suggested, squatting with
his boots in the briny puddle around it to try lifting its edge. It was nothing special, just a
yellow grey lump, rough with barnacles, but it certainly seemed massive enough to stay put
if they dropped it in the dunes. Once Ben had given his approval, Graham squatted down
opposite him, then they lifted the stone together, finding it quite manageable. Ben guessed
it weighed a little more than a regular concrete paving slab, though its irregular oval
diameter was smaller.
As they began laboriously making their way back along the beach, clinging to the stone
whilst trying not to bump each other with it, their conversation lapsed into grunts with
occasional cautions and checks. They had to pause a few times to drop their burden on the
beach, stretching their backs and rubbing their hands to revive them before picking up
their load again and moving on. The final scramble up the loose sand that led into the dunes
was perhaps the hardest part, but Marcie and Marion both made appreciative and
encouraging noises as they staggered the last few steps and dropped the rock with relief
onto the soft sand next to the picnic blanket.
Ben, like Graham, was heaving for breath by now, and he noticed the older man had also
gone quite red in the face. He suggested Graham sit on the rock to take a rest, while he got
his inhaler out to take a couple of precautionary puffs. Marcie showed some worried
concern, but Ben assured her that he didn’t feel too tight chested at all. Graham meanwhile
asked if they minded if he had a smoke, admitting it was a much less healthy way to open
his pipes than Ben’s as he pulled a tobacco pouch from his waistcoat pocket. Ben
apologised for putting him to so much trouble, but Graham assured him it was nothing
compared to some of the heavy lifting he had to do backstage.
As the other three sat down on the blanket themselves to have another sip of wine or a gulp
of water, at Marcie’s suggestion, Marion told Graham, “Marcie has been telling me a little
about this young couple’s recent history dear. Ben’s actually got a rather nasty lung
condition, and it sounds as if it was Marcie’s tender loving care that brought them together.
Meanwhile, this feisty young lady has also scored a minor victory against the exploitative
patriarchy lurking in her university. Do you mind me saying dear? Well, before Ben, there
was a married man in Marcie’s life, her department’s professor no less. When Ben needed
her help, just as a friend at this time, the professor objected, so she gave him his marching
orders. Then there was a fishy business with a fire at Ben’s old place, which the police
decided to question the jealous mister married professor about. And suddenly the
lecherous old goat found he’d been kicked out of his cosy family home by his justly
suspicious wife, to go sofa surfing with those of his acquaintances who’d still give him the
time of day. Meanwhile, he’d got suspended from professional duties pending an enquiry at
the university. Is that about it dear? I got the impression that the nosedive in the
professor’s reputation as an academic and as a respectable family man of genteel principles
will be hurting him more than repeated kicks to the gonads ever could have! It’s quite a
story,” Marion paused as a look of concern shaded her face. Then she reached to touch
Marcie’s arm as she reassured her, “But you know Graham and I won’t be gossiping about
this to anyone else, don’t you dear? Your confidentiality is safe with us, like the other thing,
Graham dear.”
“Yes, about that, Marion,” Graham looked up a little guiltily, recovered now from his
exertion as he tapped out his rollup out in a little round tin that he obviously carried as a
portable ashtray, “I ended up filling Ben in on the whole story about how we stumbled
across them earlier. It seemed the right thing to do.”
“It was,” Marion confirmed as if to reassure him, “I let Marcie know too, and I’m still here,
so I guess she didn’t feel so cross with me that she had to put out my eyes or bury my
eviscerated body in the dunes. We needn’t embarrass these two anymore by going over it
now though.”
Ben and Marcie exchanged a guilty look, though he thought he saw a kind of contented
relief in her expression too that he empathised with, thinking of how it might have turned
out if someone less sympathetic had seen then. Meanwhile, Marion kept talking, saying,
“We could tell these youngsters some stories that might still make us blush, couldn’t we
Graham dear? Do you remember Morocco for example?” As she said this, Ben thought that
she was perhaps seeking a way to balance the burden of trust that she was expecting
Marcie and himself to rely on her and Graham for.
Graham confirmed, “Yes, we probably could. But I’m not sure they wouldn’t want to hear
them. Seeing us now, well, me at least, they would not want to be stuck with those mental
images. But you know I remember our foolish trip to Morocco very well. It wasn’t just the
two of us, you understand Ben, but a van load of would-be hippies from arts college. I
shudder to think what the well-mannered locals made of us, but when we set up our
campsite in the mountains, all in one big old army surplus tent, there really wasn’t much
priority given to modesty or privacy. I think you were the only one of us who managed to
retain some dignity and grace, Marion. I remember you singing under the stars. You were
like a divine angel in our midst, stepped down from heaven to try and lead the rest of us
filthy debased reprobates onto a more enlightened path. But in our squalor, we stubbornly
resisted your best efforts, with our ropey amplifier and jury-rigged tape deck, not to
mention our booze and our hash.”
Marion scoffed at his words, saying “That’s not how I remember it. I’m sure I was just as
much of an intoxicated debased reprobate as any of that old bunch of hedonistic wastrels. If
I thought it was a good idea to try singing by starlight, and you thought my squawking voice
had any merit, then we must both have been pretty stoned to have not known any different.
And I was as filthy as anyone else - there was nothing angelic about my body odour or all
that unshaved hair on display. But maybe we’d better leave this newly betrothed kind
couple in peace before we disgust them further with our geriatric reminiscences?”
Graham agreed as they both promptly rose to their feet, saying they might see them back at
the abbey carpark. Ben and Marcie stood up too, Ben shaking Graham’s hand firmly as he
agreed to look out for them before they set off for home. Marcie happily concurred as she
exchanged a naturally sincere parting kiss on both cheeks with Marion, then did the same,
though perhaps a little more awkwardly, with Graham. Ben found himself imitating Marcie
as he kissed Marion too, catching the scent of her heavy perfume as she put her lips to his
cheeks, feeling the warmth of her dry wrinkled skin against his. She seemed to grip his
arms with a passionate enthusiasm for a moment as she muttered, “Bravo! Great work.
Now nourish your appreciation. She’s special.”
Ben vaguely agreed with her surprising remarks, but Marion was already moving on to
address Marcie as she stepped back, “You’ve got my details now, dear. Do phone if you
want my help, or to just chat. I’d love to hear how you get on in any case.” As Marcie agreed,
Ben wondered what kind of help the older woman was thinking of.
Chapter 51
Marion took Graham’s hand to give it an affectionate tug, then the old couple were
stomping off over the edge of the dune, Marion dropping Graham’s hand without turning to
raise her arm in a final wave. As they disappeared, Ben turned to Marcie, reflecting her
broad smile as he asked what Marion had meant. She explained that the old actress had
offered to be a celebrant at their marriage ceremony, then seemed to realise what she’d
said as she raised her hands to her mouth with a kind of shocked embarrassment.
Ben thought he understood some of her feelings as he reassured her, “It’s okay. It’s real
now, isn’t it? We can take our time, to plan what we want.”
“Oh Ben, yes it is real isn’t it?” Marcie said as she stepped forward to put her arms around
his waist, going on to explain, “I can feel the weight of your proposal on my finger, like I’m
really aware of it. But you know I won’t be a demanding bride-to-be, don’t you? It’s not my
style to be a great big show-off in a meringue dress, bossing everyone around to make my
so-called special day ‘perfect’ as according to some mad ideas harvested from piles of
fatuous magazines and wedding-industry marketing. It’s the marriage that’s important, not
the wedding, isn’t that right? I won’t turn into a bridezilla. It will just be another step that
we take into our shared future, but a significant one that’s witnessed in public.”
“Aye, for me it’s saying we’re sincere, in our commitment, when we’re already getting on
with it. But it feels like we’ve already made that public, a bit, with those two. And you can
have a meringue if you want. I actually wondered if you’d want to go traditional, like in
your old Catholic church. I’d be fine with that,” Ben admitted, holding Marcie to him. He’d
not been able to help himself from noticing that he could feel her bra straps under her thin
blouse now, and therefore guessed that she must have put her underwear back on while he
was away collecting the stone with Graham. He wondered at the trust she’d perhaps put in
Marion to admit she wanted to do that, then go through with it, in front of a stranger as it
were. Yet he said nothing about this.
“No, I don’t think so,” Marcie said, “It would seem a bit false, swearing before a dry
Abrahamic god who we’ve been criticising pretty much since we first met. And if I got a
special pagan dress for the wedding, I’d want something I could wear afterwards too, so it
could hardly scream ‘bride’ for subsequent fun and games, perhaps out in wild nature. But
that’s all for the planning which you said we could take our time over. For now shall we
tidy up and follow Marion and Graham back to the village?”
Ben agreed, pecking Marcie’s smiling lips before stepping back and crouching down to
gather up the blanket. As he shook it down though, Marcie remarked, “You’re right though,
we did inadvertently make it public. Were you okay with that when Graham admitted what
they’d seen?”
“Aye, I guess,” Ben admitted, folding the blanket as Marcie gathered their scattered picnic
paraphernalia, “I wouldn’t have done it deliberately, but I’m glad it was them, in a way.
Graham said he saw nothing anyway, you know, of our intimacy. They heard us, then he
said just Marion saw us, but she didn’t stop to watch, sending Graham away, on patrol, both
guarding us. Are you okay with it? Did I take things too far?”
“No, I wanted to do everything we did! If anything, I seem to remember that I was the one
leading us on to get naughty together,” Marcie reassured him, then paused with her hand
across her chest as she considered her feelings, then said, “But yes, I think I am okay with
being witnessed. Like you I think, I didn’t want to be an exhibitionist, but it’s not a harmful
or disgusting thing to have let someone else accidentally see us, is it? It’s wonderful to feel
that union outside under the big wet sky, and it’s natural and universal, isn’t it? An honest
expression of true deep love. I remember when Shona saw us in the kitchen, the very first
time we truly made love wasn’t it? I was startled and scared, but we didn’t stop, did we? If
I’d seen Marion peeping over the top of the dunes - and her version of the story matches
what Graham told you, by the way - I think I’d have carried on anyway. I don’t want to
make a habit of performing our intimacy in front of others though, you understand?
There’s a naughty frisson of excitement to it maybe, but I’m pretty sure it won’t become a
kinky fixation for me. Is that okay with you too?”
Marcie was gripping the wine bottle whilst Ben was stuffing the folded blanket into the
rucksack, but she still managed to draw his hips to her belly, wrapping her free hand
around his buttocks. Ben answered, “Aye, it’s all good. Maybe we should take more care
though, not get so carried away, if we’re cuddling outside another time.”
“Maybe,” Marcie conceded with a cheeky smile, “Or maybe not. Fucking you beneath the
open sky feels so great! It is a kind of magic we make each time, I think. What did you want
to do with this wine by the way? We could pour it as a sacrificial libation on this stone,
making our own little extra rite to consolidate what is certainly a momentous day, which
we’ll surely cherish in our memories.”
“Aye, that’s a sound idea,” Ben agreed, adding, “I saved the cork, to try resealing it, but it
would have been difficult anyway.” He was about to put the rucksack down, but then he
remembered Marcie’s token that she’d given him that morning. Confident that she’d agree,
he asked, “But shall I get Little Danaë out to join us?”
He found the plastic figurine, then carefully set her down on the barnacle-crusted rock that
he and Graham had dropped unceremoniously onto the sand, before putting the rucksack
aside and stepping around the rock to face Marcie. He squatted down once more to try
brushing any detritus off it, but the marine encrustations were stuck had and abrasively
rough on his hand. As he rose to his feet again, resigned to the unforgiving rock being what
it was, he looked into Marcie’s warm brown eyes and asked, “Do you want to start again?”
“Yes, if I can remember the sense of what we said earlier,” she agreed, then paused to take
a deliberately deep breath, drawing her shoulders back and seeming to instantly find an
impressive degree of dignity and composure. After her pause, she began in a steady low
tone, “Mother of the land, mother of the sea, mother of the sky, you’ve supported our
supine bodies in our shared pleasure, your briny flow has moved within and between us,
your gentle rain has blessed our union. We honour you and give you thanks.”
Marcie solemnly poured a dribble of the wine onto the rock, careless of the splashing
droplets bouncing back across her skirt and the toy pirate, then she passed the bottle to
Ben. He caught her eyes, and she returned his sincere smile of thanks, then he held it ready
to pour whilst he let his own thoughts settle, before slowly saying, “Fathers of this land,
ancestors of this place, who followed the Heathen gods, and the early Christians, who
declared this island holy, witness our betrothal, and look kindly on our union, when we
declare our wedding vows, and beyond, into our unknown future.”
He tipped the bottle a little further and was surprised by the slug of wine that seemed to
leap from it, yet he held steady and unflinching as he watched it fall onto the now special
rock, trying to follow Marcie’s calm example as some splashed back onto his jeans. He
thought there was still just a little wine in the bottle, so he handed it back to Marcie,
muttering, “Last one, maybe.”
Marcie seemed to fill her lungs to their full capacity as she drew a great breath, which she
exhaled forcefully before taking another and solemnly intoning, “Now we empty our simple
chalice on this hallowed place, offering the last of our shared cup to its spirit, to the genius
loci, the landvættir of Lindisfarne, whose unseen company we are in. We offer this wine,
sweet juice of the sun-ripened grape, bearing the southern soil’s essence in its terroir,
darkly fermented with moist warm yeast, magically transformed by its own intoxicating
spirit, the aqua vitae, the water of life. May it be a token of our shared being that we have
invested in this place, a symbol of our blood, our sweat, our tears, our mingled semen and
oozing lubrication, our flesh, the smell of our intimate hair and our skin’s oils, the fleeting
cries of our ecstasy on the air, the rich golden yolk of our fertility, gifted to this sanctified
and memorialised place. Mother, father, hear us! We spill our fluids in your honour, we
offer thanks, and we crave your blessing for our union.”
Ben felt awestruck wonder at Marcie’s creativity, and somehow humbled by her words too,
though he knew Marcie would never critically judge his own weak contribution. So he set
aside his hint of shame as he sincerely gave a murmuring echo, “Bless our union.”
She’d upended the bottle as he spoke, and the last splash of wine splattered against the
rough rock. Then she surprised him by raising both her arms above her head and letting
out a high whooping cheer, casting the bottle aside carelessly to let it impact softly against
the sloping sand. She didn’t hesitate to step up onto the wet rock, still barefoot, then
grabbed his head in both hands, pulling him to her for a firm kiss as she faced him nearly at
eye-level for once. Ben embraced her, putting his hands to her waist, then finding them
slipping under her blouse across the warm skin of her ribcage. Moving instinctively, he slid
his flat palms toward the edges of her breasts, now once again in the lacy satin cups of her
bra, feeling the delicate textures of the fabric and her silken skin through his fingertips as
they squashed their lips together.
But Marcie was already forcefully pulling him away from her, with her fingers tangled in
her hair. She exclaimed with mock exasperation, “Enough! I’m a disgrace, still snotty with
tears, humming with dried sweaty smells, and truly swampy down below. We need to get
back. I know we’ll make the tide in good time, but I desperately need a shower before we
go out this evening. I’m thinking it will have to be a quick turnaround at the flat before we
go over to Sofie and Geoff’s.”
Ben agreed, even as he wondered that Marcie might have realistically considered they
could slip all the way back into their earlier intimacy. The thought intrigued him, even
though his arousal felt sluggish after all that they’d already done, then he wondered if
something had already changed since he’d made his proposal. He held her hand with a
performance of chivalry to help her step down from the rock, then gathered up the
Playmobil toy and the discarded bottle to put in the rucksack as she sank to the sand to put
her boots on, cleaning her damp and sandy feet as best she could with her socks. As they
did all this, moving purposefully, he asked, “Does it feel different now, do you think?”
Marcie asked him what he meant, and he explained, “Kissing, petting, now we’re engaged,
now you’re my fiancé, now we know we’ll be husband and wife?”
“Yes and no, I guess,” Marcie said, rising to her feet and stomping her feet as Ben
shouldered the rucksack. “This way?” she asked, confirming Ben’s intuition of the direction
back towards the main path that would lead them to the island’s village and carpark.
They began walking, and Ben expected Marcie to expand on her answer, but she paused
and turned as they crested the dune at the edge of their special hollow. With a playful but
slightly sad tone she said, “Bye-bye, rock. Bye-bye birthday picnic spot and love nest. Thank
you.”
Ben self-consciously echoed her as he grasped her hand, “Aye, thank you. We did it well, by
that spirit of this place, I think.”
“We certainly did,” Marcie agreed, tugging him away as they resumed their walk at a
vigorous pace. She went on, “There was a lot more than a picnic lunch going on there, a lot
more than even I’d anticipated when I snuck away that tube of gel, ‘Just in case.’ But to go
back to your question, it perhaps does feel different kissing you, letting you cuddle up to
my body, now that I’ve got your ring on my finger. It’s silly, isn’t it? It feels almost like
we’re turning ourselves into grown-ups now. But really nothing has changed, even by you
popping the question and me saying yes. In a way I wonder if I’d already hitched myself to
you, if we made that bond, braiding the Norns’ threads of our fates together as Marion put
it, if that happened almost before I knew you. Thinking back, I remember sitting in the back
of the ambulance holding your hand and trying to see if your lips were still blue under the
oxygen mask. I didn’t know what was going on, but it seemed as if the world had tilted
sideways, making everything that I’d thought that morning, making my whole sense of self,
suddenly seem foolishly naive and obsolete. It was perhaps at that moment, before either of
us knew it, that we truly became a couple, became life partners, as if there were genuinely
some divine power that had stretched out a finger to nudge us together.”
“I don’t really believe that,” Ben admitted, “Not that we didn’t become a couple then,
before we knew it ourselves. That makes lots of sense. They saw it, the staff in the hospital,
didn’t they? I was wearing your Nanna’s charm, so it seemed obvious to them. But I still
don’t believe that was God, answering your Nanna’s prayer.”
“No, I don’t think it was like that either really,” Marcie agreed, still clinging to his hand as
they strode on below the fast-moving clouds, “Despite all my Sunday School classes, I can’t
accept there’s a Zeus-type figure or even a kindly faced Jesus sat on His throne in heaven,
interfering with our lives when it suits His plan. But maybe it works the other way around.
These mad life-changing things just happen as we play out our natural human drama, so we
need to put a shape on them, because they are genuinely shaping our lives. But when we
invoke Jesus - or the Norns or Zeus or a big cuddly lion, or even the vaguely defined
feminine fertility in nature - all we’re really doing is drawing an outline around the
shadows that play on the wall, cast by the flickering candlelight of our lives.”
“Very profound,” Ben said with a light chuckle, though he was genuinely impressed by her
insight.
“Don’t tease!” she chastised him, “I’m struggling to put this into words, but I just have a
sense of something that’s bigger than us, even if it comes from us, which disappears like
smoke when I try to grasp it with a rational train of thought.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease,” Ben said earnestly, “You know I agree with you, deep down.
A part of me thinks, well, I sometimes think we’re actually finding a spiritual truth. When
we invoke Mother Nature, we really are just talking about God, talking to God, as others
with faith would.”
“I wonder if you’re right, Ben,” Marcie admitted thoughtfully as they walked on, “I’ve felt
the same way. Even though we’re making it up as we go along, with our little prayers and
rites, it is like we are still connecting to something which is that transcendent divine spirit.
And it’s just the same thing that all religions tap into, something everyone has some innate
perception of, even if it is just our imaginations catching a form in a shadow that looms
over our life experiences, over all human cultures. I wonder if we’re finding something for
ourselves that other people just get from their priest or rabbi or imam. Or maybe not those
ordained teachers who read it from a book, but the mystics, the ones who can’t help but
share their transformative direct contact with the divine. I’m thinking of the half-forgotten
women like Hildegard von Bingen or Julian of Norwich, but also perhaps the local Saint
Cuthbert or even the Buddha. Maybe that’s all Jesus was too, a guy who’d had some
mystical experiences, perceiving Jehovah directly, which he then just had to tell people
about, even if that got him into fatal trouble with the authorities.”
“That’s a big thing to say,” Ben remarked. After a deep breath, he tried to explain his own
view, “I wouldn’t go that far, claiming we’re on our way to becoming gurus or prophets.
But it’s just when we’re really close, when we’re in the current, in the flow of nature,
making love but still saying that stuff out loud, it feels we’re almost touching a true mystery,
almost seeing the higher power at work. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before,
not in a church, not with any previous lover - not even something I’ve felt up in a tree,
supported in its mighty flexing arms, when the wind’s playful and the sky looks beautiful,
clouds moving through the blue like great sailing ships. But perhaps that’s the closest I’ve
come, before you, maybe even just way back when I was a boy - like when I first discovered
my perch in that ash tree, the one we found together at the top of the copse, when we
visited Dad on the farm, you know, when we made love on the crow’s nest platform?”
“I know the one,” Marcie said with a dreamy smile, “How could I forget? And maybe that’s
all it is, it’s just that we’ve found our own way to have great sex together!”
“Aye!” Ben laughed, “We’re just mucking about with religious gibberish, while getting on
with really comfortable fucks, which make us feel good. But I still love the way we play with
these ideas. I love the little rituals we do, the words you come up with, and I love all these
stories you’ve opened up for me, the myths and the fantasy books. I don’t know what I
really believe, deep down, but I know we’re good together, right to our roots.”
“Thank you. I want us to keep that alive, that playfulness with those serious and deeply
evocative stories. It’s like I’m rediscovering them with fresh eyes when I see your response
to them. And you’re really great at coming up with ideas and words for our games too, you
know? I want us to keep enjoying those, even if the words that come from my mouth during
those other little rituals we do end up being a bit odd sometimes. What did I say earlier,
saying your big stiff spermy Roddie was the Lamb of God?”
“It’s all good, it truly is,” Ben said sincerely, smiling at the memory, remembering the rich
taste of Marcie’s intimate flesh that he’d noticed in their shared arousal too, “I want us to
keep that alive too. ‘Odd’ is good. It’s life, our new life. We must keep times like today -
playing, making love in the dunes, celebrating life - we must keep practising, as long we’re
able.”
“As long as we’re brave or foolish enough to, perhaps,” Marcie said, glancing up at him with
a guilty grin as she swung his hand. Then a troubling thought seemed to occur to her as her
heavy eyebrows creased in a frown, “We were lucky it was just Marion and Graham who
found us, I think. You noticed I’d got my bra on again when we cuddled just now? I did feel
a bit self-conscious without my underwear on when they turned up, to be honest. I showed
them your silver hammer without thinking, but I saw Graham’s embarrassment when he
went to look at it. He must have noticed my chest instead, which made me feel embarrassed
too. After you went off with him to find the stone, I confessed to Marion that I needed a wee.
That gave me an excuse to grab what I needed out of the bag, then pop over the edge of the
dune to squat down out of sight, where I could give myself a wipe down and put my
knickers back on.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben admitted, feeling a little ashamed that he’d put her in that situation, but
she dismissed his apology.
“Don’t be daft! It’s not your fault, and we were having fun, weren’t we? But when I came
back with a little dirty bag, Marion said something about understanding my need to go,
then admitted that she’d heard us at it long before they announced their presence. She’d
heard the animal noises I was making when you were inside me, I think, but when she
realised what was happening she sent Graham off and set herself as our guard, without
spying, she claimed, and as you said. Well, I was embarrassed again, but she seemed so kind
and light-hearted about it that she put me at my ease. I felt okay about wriggling back into
my bra in front of her then, though I kept my blouse on you understand. Holy Island’s
beaches are hardly the south of France, are they?”
“She didn’t tell you if they’d done the same, did she?” Ben asked with curiosity, clarifying,
“Well, even just getting together for a kiss maybe, on the lonely coastline. Graham said they
weren’t lovers, but I think he wished they were.”
“No, she didn’t say anything about that. We genuinely did talk about escaping the Catholic
church though, and how you never really left it behind completely,” Marcie admitted. But
she was obviously giving the old couple’s relationship some thought as she went on, “It
sounded like they’d got up to something in Morocco all those years ago though, didn’t it?
Wasn’t Marion implying they were in the nude together in that tent under the stars? I’m
not sure I could ever imagine carrying on like that with just casual friends on holiday if
there wasn’t something at least a bit sexy going on too.”
“I don’t know,” Ben reflected, “What you said earlier, maybe we are exhibitionists, just a
tiny bit. But maybe Marion is even more so, being an actress and all. What do you mean
though, about not escaping the church? Will we end up getting married in one, after all?
Will we need to speak to a priest, to show we understand our vows properly, before God
and all that?”
Marcie laughed lightly, then reassured him, “I really don’t think that’s likely. I’m not sure
exactly what Marion and I agreed, but I think for me it’s more about it getting under your
skin, priming you with those outlines for the shadows on the wall. It’s like the way that my
first impulse is always to invoke Holy Mary, when I’m surprised, when I’m upset, and when
you’ve brought me to the moment that my orgasm finally comes home too! It’s nothing to
do with priests or Mass, but it’s something I instinctively reach out and grasp for, like a
comfort blanket from infancy, even though it’s really not a thing in my adult life at all now.
Hmm, and Marion was curious about the Maltese too. I guess that snagged the attention of
the performer in her. She told me that as a girl she’d been both transfixed and frustrated in
equal measure by the church Latin when she tried really listening to it. Perhaps that’s one
of the reasons she got into performing her jibber-jabber, as she called it, in the first place.”
“Well, they were an interesting couple,” Ben reflected, “They must be good walkers too. I
thought we might overtake them, but I’ve not even caught sight of them.”
Marcie agreed with him as they closed in on the village. They’d found the bridleway that
ran across the fields between it and the dunes earlier, and it seemed to have taken them
barely any time at all to cover this final short leg of their circular walk, Ben thought. Yet
though the view was clear across the fields, they’d not seen any other walkers at all.
However, now that they were approaching the car park itself, Ben was surprised to see a
crowd of older men along with a few women, all in biker jackets, which seemed to be
milling around the very spot where Marcie had parked the car. He pointed this out to
Marcie, and she said that she hoped nothing was wrong, though she seemed mildly curious
rather than genuinely worried.
They both became more concerned when they drew closer though, as they saw that there
genuinely did seem to be a grizzled biker gang clustered around their small purple Ka. One
of the figures must have spotted them approaching, as there seemed to be some nudges
and urgent mutterings, then suddenly a familiar face emerged from the clustered bodies.
“Marcie, Ben!” Marion announced, stepping forward with her arms outstretched, now
wearing a heavy biker jacket of her own over her dungarees and blouse. Ben noticed
Graham in the crowd then too, looking a little guilty whilst the other bikers gawped and
grinned at them. Marion had kept talking as she approached, “I’m glad you’re here, but I
think I’ve got some explaining to do. We got back to the bikes quickly after we left you. I
mentioned to the mob that we’d met a lovely young couple in the dunes who’d just that
moment got engaged, and they immediately agreed they wanted to congratulate you and to,
well let’s say, ‘Send you off in style.’ I really hope you don’t mind, but Graham remembered
how you’d described your wheels, so when we worked out which was your car, us girls
pooled our lipsticks, then we got to work with a few decorations for the happy occasion.”
Ben heard a few low but seemingly genuine wishes of congratulations and best wishes from
the biker gang as they parted, giving him and Marcie a proper view of the car. The words
“Just gettin’ hitched” were drawn in large curling letters around a bulging heart across the
back window, all in vivid pink and red lipstick. As Ben moved around, still gripping
Marcie’s hand, he saw on the other windows images of more hearts, flowers, stars and even
a well-drawn cartoon cherub, complete with a bow and arrow, wings and a little proud
penis. Someone had written their names around these motifs, having obviously made a
wild guess at the spelling for Marcie’s name, rendered as ‘Mahsee’.
“I’m sorry if we got carried away,” Graham muttered, stepping forwards too now, “I know
it’s not like we’re sending you off in your real wedding car, but maybe we all like the idea
of sharing in a bit of that romance.”
Ben had given Marcie an anxious look when he first realised what they’d done, but he’d
seen her smile, even though he thought he saw a blush slightly too, and he was grinning
broadly himself now too. “No problem,” he reassured Graham as Marion took Marcie’s
elbow in her hand, guiding her closer to the car, into the heart of the crowd. Ben went on,
thinking to compliment what he guessed was Graham’s work “It’s well done, a real treat.”
“It’s a wonderful surprise!” Marcie finally admitted too, with a little laugh, speaking a little
louder than Ben, “I’m so glad we met you, that you witnessed Ben’s little performance, and
that you had the idea to mark our special occasion this way. Thank you all for this, and for
your kind thoughts.”
This provoked another heartier round of congratulatory remarks and other appreciative
noises from the crowd, which came together in a kind of cheer as Marcie held up her left
hand. She turned around in a little twirl, before gripping Ben’s hand firmly with her right,
saying shyly but clearly, “And here’s the ring!”
That cheer was repeated with much more enthusiasm and volume when Marcie surprised
Ben by grabbing his head and pulling him towards her for a kiss. He was even more
surprised when, with everyone watching, she met his lips with her mouth ajar, then
responded enthusiastically when he tentatively reached for her tongue with his. They were
immediately entangled in a passionate exchange, hungrily chewing for each other as Marcie
thrust her tongue deep into Ben’s mouth. Yet despite the uproar this caused in their
audience, it was over in a flash. Ben found himself staring deep into Marcie’s wide
sparkling eyes as they pulled apart, grinning at each other in their shared breathless
excitement.
Marion was patting them both on the shoulders, saying quietly, “I’m so glad you played
along with this daft old bird’s idea. You’re a beautiful couple, so natural, so perfectly in
love.”
“Well, thank you Marion,” Marcie said, releasing Ben’s head, then turning in a half-circle to
say loudly, “And thank you all. It’s a big day for Ben and me, and you’ve made it extra
special for both of us. We’ll cherish the memories.”
“And it’s Ben’s birthday too!” Marion announced to the crowd in a loud voice, prompting
another ragged cheer and shouts of happy birthday. But Marion obviously hadn’t finished
with her plans yet as she went on, “Now what say you, posse? Shall we make a cavalcade
for the freshly betrothed couple as we head back for the mainland?”
This was met with enthusiastic agreement, even as it prompted the crowd to disperse.
Marion bowed her head toward Ben and Marcie with a theatrical performance of
conspiracy to explain that the gang would get their bikes ready, then ride across the
causeway with them. She said they could follow her and Graham, and the rest of the mob
could find their own places out in front or behind the decorated car. She confirmed that
Ben and Marcie had planned to set off for home now anyway, before warning them that it
might take a while for the bikers to get themselves organised. Then with a final squeeze of
their shoulders, she excused herself and made a swift exit from the carpark to collect her
own Harley.
Some of the biker crowd were still drifting around as Marcie and Ben looked again at the
greasy red graffiti across Marcie’s car. Ben was glad to greet them individually, shaking
hands and thanking each one for their congratulations and best wishes. He repeated the
story to a few people that he’d been planning to propose on their birthday picnic outing for
a while, whilst Marcie assured them it was a big surprise. They agreed it was a complete
coincidence that Marion and Graham had caught them just as Ben was down on one knee,
without mentioning the previous act in that particular performance. When none of the
bikers dropped any hints that they suspected there might have been more to the story, Ben
felt confident that Marion and Graham had been as good as their word in keeping the more
intimate scene that they’d witnessed a secret.
Marion herself pulled up just a few moments later, wearing an open-faced helmet as she sat
astride a long low motorcycle, its idling engine making the characteristic loud chunter of
the Harley Davidson’s V-twin. She left it running as she stepped off and kicked down its
side-stand, nodding to Graham as he pulled up just behind her on a larger feet-forward
machine with high chopper handlebars. She scolded the other bikers who were still
hanging around, telling them to get a move on, then asked Marcie if she and Ben were all
set.
Marcie looked at Ben, who nodded and confirmed that he’d drive, as he finally got around
to putting his rucksack into the abused car, then Marcie asked Marion if she was some kind
of leader for the bike gang. Graham, who’d dismounted to stand by them himself, laughed
at this, whilst the older woman denied it. But then she went to admit that they were just a
bunch of overgrown recalcitrant kids who sometimes needed to hear a firm commanding
voice to get their collective arses into gear.
Then she suggested that Ben should get in the car and follow her, to drive a short way up
the road where the club could form up around them. She dismissed his concern that they
may get in the way of the other tourists, some of whom had been looking at their gang in
the carpark with curiosity or even suspicion as they got into their own cars to leave the
island. She told him that the other drivers could work out how to pull around them or just
wait if they’d rather, as it wasn’t often that those on two wheels got to call the shots. Ben
and Marcie just looked at each other, then happily went along with Marion’s plan,
seemingly sharing a mixed sense of self-consciousness and pride in the special treatment
they were getting as they got into the car and pulled away, smiling and waving to the others
from their rolled-down windows.
Once they’d pulled up to a stop on the road once again, it turned out that Marion had been
right - it was taking quite a while for the biker gang to get themselves organised, with lots
of shouts back and forwards over the growing noise of the throbbing engines. Ben watched
the leather-clad backs of Marion and Graham as they stood astride their bikes just ahead of
Marcie’s quiet car, waiting for his cue as they twisted about to check what was going on
and raised shouts of their own. Then, almost when Ben least expected it, he saw Marion
raise a fist, holding it high as she kicked her bike into gear and pulled away.
Then they all crept forwards, slowly at first, leaving the tiny village of Holy Island behind
them as they passed the open fields. These gave way to the low dunes as they picked up just
a little more speed and rolled forwards onto the causeway. Ben was awestruck at the
gathered sound of the bikes all around them, guessing that their riders were slipping their
machines’ clutches to deliberately over-rev the low-tech engines. He risked taking his eyes
off the road and their immediate escorts, less than a car’s length in front of them, to glance
cautiously across at Marcie. She seemed to be smiling in confused wonder as she took
everything in, then she noticed his eyes on her and she shot her beaming grin back his way
just as he turned back to the road, also reaching across to squeeze his knee.
Then almost as quickly as they’d started driving along the true causeway, they were back
on the mainland and driving along a seemingly mundane country lane. But the pack of
motorcyclists clearly had some special plan still in hand as Hog after Hog overtook them at
thundering volume. Ben expected they’d all get queued up to join the A1, where he knew
they’d have to part company, but as they approached the junction it seemed that wasn’t
going to happen. In baffled surprise, he saw the bikers had blocked the traffic, hazard lights
flashing, facing down any challenges or complaints from the regular drivers with the
unflinching walls of their presence, across both the southbound and northbound lanes.
Marion had obviously expected this as she slew her bike to a stop, bearing right across the
carriageway, gesturing for him to turn left. As he slowly rolled onto the Newcastle-bound
lane, the arrayed bikers collectively raised their left hands whilst revving their throttles to
a new crescendo of brutish noise. Ben was waving his own free hand from the window,
then he felt a moment of alarm as Marcie quickly released her seatbelt to boost herself up,
pushing her head, shoulders and torso right out of the passenger window. Ben glanced over
to see her gripping the window frame firmly with one hand while she waved her other arm
enthusiastically, whooping and hollering, “Goodbye! Thank you! Bless you all!”
The moment passed and she slipped back into her seat with a big, contented sigh, buckling
her seatbelt back up. Ben felt her hand on his knee once again as he built up speed and
rolled his own window up, anxiously checking his mirror to see what the bikers were up to.
Through the pink letters across the back window, he caught a glimpse of them wheeling
around, and guessed there may be some frustrated traffic rushing up behind him soon, but
he put any concerns aside as he said to Marcie, “Well, that was something special.”
“Yes,” she said with breathless excitement, “I could never have imagined I’d be at the
centre of something like that! What a mad, mad day you’ve turned this into.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Ben protested, “I just bought a ring for you. Those bikers are the mad
ones. And you’ve done your bit too, played your part, helping to make it such a mad,
memorable day, starting with your amazing surprise costume, then doing what you did, in
the bedroom, but in the dunes too. And I’d have never organised that log for the yard,
without your encouragement.”
“Well it’s not over yet,” Marcie remarked with a sigh, “We’ve got our diner date with Sofie
and Geoff yet. I hope they’ve not got any more mad surprises for us lined up too. My head
might just pop!”
“No, it will just be a nice meal, a few glasses of wine I guess, with a quite cosy film to watch,
before we snuggle down on their sofa-bed,” Ben reassured her.
“I’m not sure the hyped-up sci-fi virtual reality gritty cyberpunk action fight-fest that is the
Matrix - with its mind-bending philosophical questions about the true nature of reality,
identity and free-will - is really a quiet cosy film,” Marcie teased him, “But at least we’ll
know what to expect, I guess.”
“‘Take the red pill, Marcie,’” he half-quoted with a chuckle, “‘Stay in Wonderland, and see
how deep the rabbit hole goes.’”
“I’m already there, Ben,” she assured him, “Thanks to you, I’m falling through empty space
in wide-eyed wonder, crying, ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ Headed who-knows-where.”
They drove in contented silence for a while, then both started speaking at the same time.
They laughed, then Ben asked Marcie to go first. She said it was nothing important, she was
just wondering if he was hungry after their adventures and what was quite a modest lunch
for him. Ben reassured her that he thought he’d last until they reached Sofie and Geoff’s,
and reminded her that modest portions fitted his new diet and healthy regime just fine. He
checked that she was okay too, that she didn’t want to pick up a snack at a roadside cafe.
Marcie reassured him that she’d be fine, as she was sure they’d eat well this evening, then
asked Ben what he had been about to say. He explained that he was only going to ask if she
wanted to put the Earthsea story CD back on. She said with a warm fondness that she’d like
that, though she thought they hardly needed the escapism, then she agreed with Ben about
how nice it was to let the stories wash over them while they drove like this.
Chapter 52
The journey seemed to fly by, and they’d reached the fringes of Newcastle almost before
Ben realised. As he passed a garage, he pulled in, thinking to fill up while they were there,
but also to see if they had a car wash. He explained his thought to Marcie that it might be
best to get the lipstick graffiti off sooner rather than later, especially if it might attract
unwanted attention when they parked up on the street back in Jesmond. Marcie reluctantly
agreed, then stayed in the car when he parked them by the Jet Wash, making faces at him
while he got the foamy spray started and quickly worked his way around the petite car. He
was sorry to see the bright colours bleeding away in the white foam across the purple
panels of Marcie’s well-loved car, yet he knew with absolute certainty that Marcie and he
would both remember this day for the rest of their lives.
When they got back into the flat with the day’s rubbish and the somewhat dirty travel
blanket all in the rucksack, Marcie confirmed that she’d have a quick shower and get ready
to head straight back out again. Ben suggested they still had time for a mug of tea, or
something stronger for Marcie if she wanted, but she just agreed to the tea as they finished
getting their boots off. Yet at that very moment the flat’s phone rang.
“I just bet that’s Nanna,” Marcie said in exasperation, “I swear she’s got supernatural eyes
on this place.”
Ben went through to the kitchen to boil the kettle before beginning to unpack the dirty
Tupperware and the plastic glasses into the sink as Marcie answered the phone, quickly
slipping into her familiar rapid Maltese as her guess was evidently proved right. Though he
still understood nothing of the language when she flew through it at top speed, he could tell
that she was enthusiastically sharing her mood of happy excitement with her grandmother,
presumably filling her in on some of what they’d got up to that day. Then she obviously
passed on what was the biggest news of the day, as he heard her pause and give way to the
loud shrieks of delight and exclamation that he could hear coming from the phone’s
handset. Marcie was obviously confirming the truth of her and Ben’s betrothal, as she kept
repeating, “Iva, iva. Huwa veru.” Then Ben saw her move the handset away from her mouth
deliberately, covering it to say apologetically, “She’d like to speak to you, love. Is that
okay?”
Ben agreed, a little apprehensively, and took the handset from her, using the little Maltese
he’d learnt to say hello and ask how Marcie’s Nanna was. She responded in kind, and he
dutifully answered, “Jien tajjeb grazzi.” But then she immediately switched to English to
wish him happy birthday, which he thanked her for too. Then she asked if Marcie had told
her the truth.
“Yes, I proposed to her today, after our lunch by the seaside. She said yes, she agreed. So we
are going to get married.”
“Oh, Benjamin, it is much much good news!” she replied with great excitement in her
gravelly voice, “You make the old lady happy, super happy. Jesus and the saints, they bless
you. I send you and my granddaughter, my beautiful Marcie, much love and, ahem, the talba.
Prayers, yes, happy prayers. You are two beautiful people. You marry, you are the grandson,
I am Nanna to you, it is true, yes?”
“Yes it’s true, you are my new Nanna for real now,” Ben confirmed happily, though with
some lingering embarrassment, “I am looking forward to meeting you, when we come to
Malta. I’m just sorry that it can’t be this summer. You know I need to wait, for everything to
get sorted, to be sure I’m better?”
“Yes, you get better. You do the exercise, yes? You see the doctors, and you are gentle in the
new work. It is good,” the old woman stated, obviously having been filled in by Marcie on
what he was doing. She went on, “Summer is good in Malta, but many people come. You
come when it is not so hot. It is good too.”
Ben agreed, promising they’d visit when they could, and saying again that he was looking
forward to it, then she was wishing him happy birthday again and saying again how happy
she was. Ben thanked her again, then suggested he hand her back to Marcie, which she
agreed to. He finished by wishing her good health in Maltese, then as he passed the phone’s
handset back to Marcie, she whispered, “Thank you, well done.”
Ben poured the boiled water from the kettle over the teabags that he’d put in a couple of
clean mugs, before finishing off his tidying up as the phone call wound down. He’d thrown
the rubbish away before washing up the Playmobil figure in the sink along with the other
picnic things, thinking of how she’d got splashed with wine. As he gazed out of the kitchen
window, he realised how quiet it was in the backyard, and wondered if the boys had
exhausted themselves on the new log already. Then Marcie had ended the call, hanging up
with a contented sigh before coming through to the kitchen to thank him and give him a
cuddle.
She sighed again as she rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled against him, saying,
“I’m glad Nanna called, and thank you again for speaking to her. You really have made her
very happy by getting this ring for me, and she really is looking forward to meeting you,
whether that’s before or after we’ve truly tied the knot. But it’s made me think that I
should phone my mother too to pass on the news. I’m sure she’d have preferred to have
been the first to know. Is it okay if make the call now? If you’re having a shower before we
go out too, you could go first.”
Ben agreed, but then had a guilty thought, “I shouldn’t have spoken to her first, should I?
Like that old tradition, asking the parents’ permission, about proposing to marry their
daughter.”
“No way!” Marcie said emphatically, playfully punching his shoulder, “You’d have been in
such trouble with me if you’d tried a stunt like that. You’d have needed more than a
wildlife photography card to patch that one up! I’ve stood on my own two feet, well, at least
since Dad passed away. I make my own decisions, I’m in charge of my life now. You know
that better than anyone.”
“Aye, Marcie, I know,” Ben reassured her, pulling her to him for a cuddle again, “It was just
an idle worry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I know which century we’re in really.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him in turn, “I can’t imagine you ever turning into a patriarchal
pig just because we’ve crossed some traditional line that’s been scored in the shifting sand
of our shared lives. But we’d better get on with things if we want to avoid being late for our
friends.”
They kissed, just with a parting peck on the lips, then Ben watched Marcie step back into
the living room to pick up the phone again, secretly glad that she’d called Sofie and Geoff
their friends rather than just his friends. As he saw her slump down with perhaps an
exaggerated sigh of weary resignation, he smiled and blew her a kiss, then turned toward
the bathroom.
He was glad to get out of his clothes and under the hot water, as he hadn’t realised how
dirty he was. Beyond his own dried sweat, and the residual semen that still made his
foreskin slippery, he seemed to have picked the sticky salty air itself, as well as the sand
between his toes and even into the roots of his hair. He was generous with the body wash
and shampoo, feeling as if he was making himself fresh and rejuvenated just for Marcie as
he splashed the water over his face.
Once he’d finished and rubbed his body dry, he wrapped his towel around his waist,
abandoning all his old clothes to the laundry basket, before stepping back through the flat.
He found the living room empty, Marcie having already finished her call apparently, so he
went through to the bedroom, where he found her setting out clothes on the bed, including
what must have been one of her long dresses, the crumpled cotton patterned with twining
green leaves. She looked up as he entered, explaining that since they were staying over, she
needed to think of something suitable for the morning as well as this evening.
Ben was a little surprised that she seemed to have already moved on from the important
call, but when he asked her if she’d managed to get through to her mother, Marcie was
dismissive. “She congratulated us and said that she was pleased for us,” Marcie explained,
“But you know how she is. We might as well be a couple on a soap opera who’ve just got
engaged for all the emotional involvement she shows.”
Ben thought Marcie was maybe being a little harsh, but by now he knew enough about the
tensions in her relationship with her mother to not start probing. Instead he stepped
forwards to put his arm around Marcie’s shoulder as he asked if she would like them both
to pop over to Manchester again soon, so that Vera could offer her congratulations to them,
“Face to face, as it were.” But Marcie assured him that with their last visit being so recent,
they were under no obligations or expectations.
“We can leave it to the summer. Holy Mary, we could probably leave it to Christmas and she
wouldn’t really notice,” Marcie said, but then the frustration of her cross mood seemed to
suddenly evaporate as she turned to let him give her a hug, “Oh, she’s a harmless old
woman really. I shouldn’t be so mean. She probably needs a bit of time for the news to sink
in. She’s just a bit vague, and you were so patient with her when we went around there,
you’re definitely the golden boy in her simple, narrow world now. I don’t want to let my
overreaction to her uselessness cast a shadow on the day. Look at you, just wrapped in a
towel, my fresh fiancé! I could push you onto the bed right now and see what you’ve got
tucked away under there for me, all over again, right now.”
As Ben had held her in his arms, he’d felt his body respond to the sensation of her loose
clothes brushing against his bare skin, as well as the soft warmth of her breasts and
abdomen pressing against his flat stomach as he held her tight to him. But as Marcie had
spoken, she’d leant back to rub his chest vigorously, making his whole body tingle. He’d
have been quite happy if she’d followed through on her suggestion right there and then,
exposing his growing penis before teasing him irresistibly towards yet another aching
orgasm. But she confirmed his more rational expectations as she sighed, putting her hands
flat against his chest over his damp pendant charm, and said, “Oh Ben, I must put you down
and go for my own shower. You’re lovely and clean, but I’m still filthy, and the clock is
ticking.”
Ben stooped to give her a kiss, but she just pecked his lips then wriggled free, blowing him
a kiss from the door as he had done to her earlier. He smiled to himself as he was left alone,
feeling deep contentment that things had gone so well on their big day, even as his mild
arousal quickly ebbed away. He found clean clothes for himself, choosing clean jeans and
another baggy shirt, before picking out underwear and a t-shirt for the morning too,
stuffing these into his small gym rucksack. Then, thinking of the toiletries and inhaler that
he’d need, he went back through the flat toward the bathroom. Hearing the shower already
running, he paused in the kitchen to fish the stewed tea bags out of their forgotten mugs,
splashing in some milk as well as a spoonful of sugar for himself. Then he turned to say
“Knock knock” at the bathroom door, even though it was ajar, before pushing his way in.
Marcie was under the gushing water, her naked body glistening under the steam and spray,
her wavy dark hair pulled down to her shoulders by its soaking weight. Ben couldn’t help
himself from noticing that her pubic hair was matted with foamy water too, and soapy suds
lingered on her swaying breasts, slipping down over the mole-scattered skin of her long
cleavage whilst her nipples stood proud from her broad dusky pink areolae.
“Ooh, this feels good! I felt really grubby from all our exertions along the greasy seashore,”
Marcie told him, blowing the water away as she rubbed her face. Ben explained he’d felt the
same, also saying that he’d finished making the tea was just getting the things he needed
for his overnight sponge bag. As he bumbled about, she went on, “I was still all slimy down
below as well, which felt somehow pleasantly comforting if you can imagine it, but it’s not
really a polite way to leave things, is it? I’ll be much fresher and respectably fragranced
now. Ooh, could you pack my toothbrush too, please?”
Ben checked if she wanted him to pack anything else for her from the bathroom, whilst
smiling to himself with a mixture of warm emotions. He felt a guilty pleasure at the exciting
glimpses that he’d caught of Marcie’s wet naked body, but he also cherished the simple
ease that they now had with each other as they openly went about their everyday personal
routines together.
Marcie had already stopped the shower and was stepping out of the bathtub though,
wrapping her towels around her head and chest. Ben followed her out into the kitchen,
confirming which mug was hers as she picked it up to take through the bedroom. She said
she’d be as quick as she could, but she warned him that she still expected it would take her
a while to get ready, so she suggested that he put his feet up on the sofa to maybe read
while he waited. Ben agreed to that, saying that he’d be happy to get on with a bit more of
The Magician’s Nephew.
As she left him to it, Ben found his place in Marcie’s old copy of the book, relaxing into the
sofa just as she’d prompted. He felt the story had reached an interesting moment, as the
confused children had found themselves in the quiet and timeless enchanted wood, then
just worked out what was going on with the mysterious pools and their colourful magic
rings. Ben had expected them to step straight into Narnia on their next adventure, so he
was surprised by the descriptions of an eerie and lifeless red-lit world. Though the story
briefly seemed to strike a slightly dissonant chord with the magic of Earthsea which they’d
just been listened to in the car, Ben found he quickly shifted into the narrative pace of the
old-fashioned children. Soon he was so drawn into Digory and Polly’s exploration of the
ancient lifeless empty buildings that he lost track of time, not noticing how long Marcie had
been gone, nor even the sound of her hairdryer.
He startled when he heard her voice at the living room door beside him, asking, “What do
you think?” He laughed lightly, setting the book aside while she put the empty mug that she
brought through down on the bookcase. He admitted he’d been miles away, lost in the
story, then he turned attentively towards her. He was not surprised to see that she looked
amazingly beautiful, with her dark wavy hair brushed out into that parted crinkled cloud,
and her eyes and lips made up once more, though she’d used her darker russet lipstick this
time. The snake chain of her necklace looped across the olive skin of her bare collarbones,
with its familiar silver hammer resting on her sternum, all exposed by the low cut of her
elegant dress.
Though he’d not really taken in Marcie’s chosen clothes when he saw them laid out on the
bed earlier, Ben saw now that she was wearing another of her loose peasant-style frocks.
This one had ruffled sleeves that fell off her shoulders, hanging down on a line with the
baggy fabric across her chest, seemingly held tight by a drawstring ribbon that was laced
into a bow at her cleavage. The rumpled cloth’s white background was crowded by a
botanical print of variegate green leaves, perhaps coiling hops Ben thought. Below Marcie’s
full bust, the soft material was cinched around her waist in corrugated pleats, playing well
to her hourglass figure Ben thought, before it flared out again over her hips, hanging down
to the gypsy hem that was just below her knees. She was already laced into her special soft
black leather boots, which teasingly left a little of her calves’ bare skin exposed between
their tops and the ragged hem of her dress, whilst she’d also slipped on her clusters of
bangles over her dress sleeves’ gathered cuffs.
“You look amazing,” Ben said as he took all this in, whilst Marcie twisted one way then the
other, swishing the dress’s skirt with her pinched fingers, as if modelling for him. “You’re
so elegant,” he said, “Like a sixties flower child screen goddess.”
“Don’t tease,” Marcie chastised him, lightly striking his shoulder with the back of her hand,
making her bangles jingle, “It’s just an old vampish Laura Ashley rip-off, from Dorothy
Perkins I think, and I’m not about to stick flower-powered daisies in my hair. Oh Ben, I’m
so sorry!”
Ben realised that Marcie thought she’d made a faux pas by inadvertently mentioning his
mother’s name, but he was sincere as he reassured her, “Don’t worry! I know it just came
out, but you can mention her, especially today. Maybe in that dress, it is a bit like the one in
that photo we got from Dad, from their wedding day, in the frame just there. But the cycle
comes around, doesn’t it? And you know I’d never confuse you with my mum. It’s okay to
remind ourselves, of your dad too, I hope it’s okay me saying. They’d be happy for us, I
think.”
“Oh, you’re so right, Ben,” Marcie said earnestly, falling down onto the sofa beside him and
putting her hand on his knee, inadvertently giving him a potent waft of her distinctive
bergamot perfume which she must have just been liberally applying. She went on, “They
really would be happy, wouldn’t they? We should hold them in our hearts. You’re so
thoughtful, when all I was thinking about was whether my old strapless bra would stay on
if I breathed in too deeply or raised my arms high! But it’s good to remember those who’ve
passed away while we celebrate our happiness. A bit of sadness can’t cancel that out. And
we should remember the living too! Did you want to quickly phone your own dad with our
news before we head off?”
“No, it’s alright,” Ben said with a chuckle, squeezing Marcie’s knee as his own hand rested
there, “He kind of knew I was going to ask sometime soon. We talked about the ring, even.
He knows we had a busy day planned. I’ll speak to him tomorrow evening.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Marcie cautiously conceded. Then, after a contented sigh, she seemed
to get all business-like as she patted his knee firmly and said, “So if you’ve finished your
cuppa too, are you ready to head off right now?”
Chapter 53
Ben confirmed he just need to gather things together in his overnight bag and put his shoes
on, then apologised that he hadn’t made as much effort as Marcie, which she dismissed
offhand. She followed him through to the bedroom to collect her own bag, deciding to dig
out a lacey white shawl of delicate crochet at the last moment too. As Ben admiringly
watched her drape it across her bare shoulders, she teasingly checked that he had
something to wear as pyjamas so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself when they tucked
themselves up on Sofie and Geoff’s sofa-bed. Then, after a final check that they’d turned all
the lights off, Marcie went to the fridge to pick up the bottle of wine they’d bought
especially while Ben put his shoes on, before they finally stepped out of the front door. Ben
confirmed he’d drive as they walked the short distance to Marcie’s sparklingly clean car
under the light clearing sky of early evening, and it was barely any time at all before they
were pulling into their friends’ suburban street.
Once they’d been buzzed in at the flats’ front door and made their way up the utilitarian
communal stairs, it was Geoff who opened the front door to them and ushered them inside.
He was dressed in a loose white shirt himself now rather than the tough old rugby top he’d
worn earlier, though his white gold chain was still visible under its open collar. He
enthusiastically wished Ben happy birthday again, wrapping him in a firm bear hug after
greeting Marcie, following her lead to kiss her on both cheeks, carefully and a little stiffly, as
he took the offered bottle of wine from her. Ben thought he’d noticed a waft of alcohol on
Geoff’s breath and wondered at that as he thanked Geoff again for the cheeky birthday card.
Then Ben and Marcie followed Geoff into the flat’s kitchen, after dropping their bags in the
hallway, where they caught Sofie just lifting a great casserole pot back into the oven, its rich
savoury smell making Ben’s mouth water with anticipation.
She gave a sort of squeal of excitement as she saw them and cast her oven gloves aside,
quickly apologising for being tied up with the dinner and explaining that she’d thought to
put the bread in the oven when she heard them ring the bell. As she spoke, she opened her
arms to Marcie, who went forwards to embrace her and kiss her cheeks in an uninhibited
way. Then she turned to Ben, wishing him happy birthday as she raised her arms to him too,
shaking out the baggy sleeves of the seventies retro blouse that she was wearing as she did
so. Ben cautiously put his hands to her shoulders and thought to kiss her cheek, but she
caught him by surprise as she playfully grabbed his ears to plant her lips quickly but firmly
on his.
“You must tell me all that you have been up to today, birthday boy,” she said teasingly as
she released him, “Geoff told me about your huge big trunk of wood which you swung into
Marcie’s backyard this morning. It sounds like a thrill, but your gorgeous girlfriend knows I
must hear all the details!”
“Maybe Marcie had better say then,” Ben responded cautiously, catching the smirk that the
two women were sharing. But he also thought to politely ask, “But what have you two been
up to today, since we saw Geoff?”
Sofie made a scoffing noise as she said that they’d been to look at potential wedding
reception venues, turning to the cupboard to get some glasses out, and then Geoff explained
that he’d let himself get a bit carried away. “Sofe was driving, you see, but it seems it’s a
thing that some of these places do, to give you samples of the drinks they’d serve, to soften
you up for a quick reservation and down payment I suppose. In this one place down by the
river I wound up having more than a few little tasters of their wines, ales and whiskies
which they wanted to show off, ‘From our cellar, just to give you an idea of what we could
serve for your special day.’ It’s a cruelly tempting trick that some of the not so special
venues use.”
Ben laughed with Geoff as he shook his head ruefully, then before he could catch himself,
blurted out, “I guess we’ll soon find that out for ourselves now.”
Sofie spun around at this hint, obviously immediately guessing at what Ben had let slip.
Putting the glasses she held down firmly on the kitchen top, she asked, “What’s this? Have
you two got some news to tell us?”
By way of answer, Marcie gave a coy grin as she shyly raised her left hand to display the
ring Ben had given her that afternoon. Sofie’s reaction was instantaneous as she let out a
much louder squeal of delight, raising her arms again to envelope both Marcie and Ben this
time, pulling both in towards her for a kind of group hug. “Congratulations!” she cried in
excitement, “You are so good together, truly, I am super glad you saw it. We can celebrate
together now, make a foursome when we share our vows! Not like polygamy, being a
polyamorous foursome,” she hastily clarified, laughing at the idea, “I just mean we can
share the ceremony and the party afterwards if we want.”
“Thank you,” Marcie said, squeezing Sofie tight to both her and Ben as she kissed her on the
cheek once again. Ben could tell she was happily at ease with being so close to Sofie and
Geoff, emotionally as well as physically, as she went on, “That’s very generous of you, but
we don’t need to rush at anything. I’m only just getting used to the idea of being engaged,
of having a fiancé! Ben caught me completely by surprise in the dunes on Holy Island this
afternoon.”
“I imagine he did!” Sofie said with another laugh, still holding them both tightly to her slim
body.
Geoff had stepped forwards to put his arms around Ben and Marcie’s shoulder’s too,
encircling them as he said, in a low voice to Ben specifically it seemed, “Aye,
congratulations matey. I always knew you’d find the right one in the end. You worked out
she’s a keeper quicker than I did with Sofe. Nice one.”
Geoff pulled away first, then Sofie stepped back too once she’d said “congratulations” again
and given them both another pair of wet kisses on their cheeks. As she shook her shoulders,
she sighed and put her hand to her eye, making Ben realise that she’d actually cried a little
at their news, then she sniffed and said, “Oh, look at me, getting all wet! It is all very
exciting! I was going to ask you both if you wanted a gin and tonic, but I think now we
should drink Champagne. I am sorry we have none.”
“A gin and tonic would be lovely, thank you,” Marcie said, laying her hand on Sofie’s arm as
if to set her mind at ease. “We had a bit of fizzy wine on the beach for our picnic, actually,
but we spilt some of it, and there were another couple there, well sort-of couple, a pair of
old bikers from Berwick who saw Ben propose and wanted to congratulate us.”
“I want you to tell me all about it,” Sofie said eagerly, “But drinks first.” She confirmed that
Ben was happy with a gin and tonic too, saying that she would join them. She was sceptical
when Geoff said he’d have a weak one too, but he promised her he’d take it slowly.
As she got them ready with ice and lemon, Marcie started explaining some of the details of
their picnic in the dunes, mentioning that after they’d eaten their sandwiches and had “a
little cuddle”, Ben had got them both to stand up so that he could go down on one knee.
Sofie took Marcie’s hand to have a close look at the ring as Marcie explained that she’d
been totally caught by surprise and made a bit of a scene. She described it as, “Proper
waterworks, with a bubbling nose and everything. It’s a wonder Ben didn’t change his
mind on the spot!”
As he reached out to affectionately take Marcie’s hand, Ben reassured her, as well as Sofie
and Geoff, that there was no way that would have happened. He explained that he was
absolutely sure that they were doing the right thing, and that they’d spoken about it before
anyway, so perhaps it wasn’t as big a surprise as all that.
Sofie had passed the drinks around as they’d been speaking, and now she raised her glass
to say congratulations once again, which Geoff echoed. They clinked their glasses together
as Marcie and Ben thanked them, then they all enthusiastically said cheers as they each
took a sip. As his mouthful slipped nicely down his throat, Ben judged that Sofie had mixed
them a strong one, but he just remarked that it tasted good.
Then Sophie got them to take their drinks through to the living room as she asked Marcie
especially about the couple who’d seen them then. It seemed she wanted to confirm they
were genuine strangers and innocent bystanders, but she also asked perceptively whether
they’d been lurking for a while and had seen the two of them have their little cuddle. As
they slumped into the pair of sofas, covered by dark blanket throws and arranged around
Geoff’s new flatscreen television, Marcie described more of what had happened whilst
remaining vague about the details. Geoff knelt down to fiddle with the hi-fi’s fancy multi-
disc CD player, quietly starting the shuffled music with Radiohead’s familiar Paranoid
Android, as she explained that the biker couple had given them a kind of Viking blessing
while they’d shared a sip of wine. However Ben thought he could tell by Sofie’s knowing
smile that she suspected there was more to the story, and guessed that she may ply Marcie
for further details later. Marcie meanwhile was diverting the narrative away from the more
intimate and embarrassing finer points by explaining that the woman they’d met was a
genuine Heathen celebrant, who’d invoked the Norse gods in her blessing, and had also in
fact offered to officiate at their marriage ceremony.
Sofie was intrigued, and began asking about whether Marcie hadn’t imagined getting
married in a Catholic church. The way that she spoke, it seemed to Ben almost as if she’d
assumed they would now be organising a joint ceremony and she was trying to find an
arrangement that would suit both couples’ expectations. But she seemed to catch herself
and pull back from that discussion almost immediately, saying, “I am sorry. You said that
you are just getting used to the idea, and that is right. We can all take time and talk about
this in weeks and months to come, together only if you want.”
Marcie reassured her that it would be fun to plan things together, and, with a glance at Ben
on the sofa next to her, added that they could think seriously about having a double
wedding, saying that it could be a really lovely thing to do if all of them were sure about it.
Ben took her hand and squeezed it in a supportive way as he echoed Marcie’s view, saying
that it might add to the spectacle for all their guests if they saw them tie two knots at once.
From his relaxed slump on the sofa next to Sofie, cuddling his slim fiancé to his chest with a
heavy arm around her shoulder, Geoff remarked that it sounded as if Ben was talking about
it as if it were a sailing trick, or something from his new climbing hobby. Ben agreed,
thinking aloud that it maybe was a bit like tying into a rope with your belay partner,
checking each other’s knots and loops to make sure you were safe and secure for the risks
and slips ahead.
Ben checked whether Sofie knew that he’d run into the firefighter called Cai again, then
explained that he’d invited Ben out to see how he took to rock climbing. Ben repeated the
thought that he’d shared with Marcie when he’d taken Cai up on his offer. He wondered if
the big active man had perhaps felt sympathy for Ben after the fire, maybe even thinking,
“There but for the grace of God go I,” when he’d seen Ben’s ruined tree climbing
equipment and heard about his loss of livelihood.
He went on to also explain that Marcie had actually given him some new climbing shoes as
a birthday present that morning, so that he could start trying some more serious pitches
with Cai and his climbing buddies the next time they were out. That prompted Sofie to ask
with a provocatively sly smile if he’d liked the other birthday present that Marcie had given
him. Ben felt his cheeks warm as his mind speculated as to what she meant, guessing that
she wasn’t referring to the toy pirate.
Then Marcie confirmed, “She knows about the dress, Ben. I don’t know how it came up,
about how men sometimes like a woman in uniform. It was probably a bit like Geoff’s joke,
‘The boys are only after one thing,’ though you know us girls are pretty keen on it too.
Anyway, when I said how poorly made the so-called sexy dress-up costumes in shops were,
she became very enthusiastic about helping me to make my own. It was Sofie who gave me
the pattern, helping me to pick out the fabric too, and even to size panels up against me
with a tape measure. She gave me some tips for Shona’s sewing machine when I got stuck
and called her in a panic too. So I guess you’ve actually got Sofie as much as me to thank for
the dress I showed you this morning.”
Ben was sure that he was blushing now as he met Sofie’s eye and said sincerely, “Well,
thank you, Sofie. It was a big surprise, and I enjoyed it very much. I’m glad Marcie wore it, I
mean. She was amazing in it,” he blundered on, becoming more and more embarrassed as
he went on.
“Good,” Sofie said with a cheekily knowing smile, “It sounds like a big success, like you two
both had a nice big surprise today. It is no wonder that you all had such very big smiles
when I saw you come into the kitchen!”
“What’s this?” Geoff asked blearily in confusion, “You helped Marcie make her dress? It’s
very nice. The style suits you. The shawl is nice too, and I really like your boots.”
Ben glanced at Marcie, and thought he saw her cheeks colouring too, but Sofie came to their
rescue in a way by saying, “Not that one, it is another dress that is just for Ben to see. Like
my special red one with the holes and the strings for you to loosen. You know which I
mean?”
Ben tried to suppress the images that spontaneously arose of Sofie in some kind of erotic
lace-up outfit, looking so much skinnier than Marcie, as indecent gaps in the red material
revealed intimate parts of her body. However, he couldn’t help his imagination
spontaneously conjuring up an indecent vision of her, curled up on the sofa in a short skin-
tight PVC tube that barely covered her narrow hips and flat chest, even though a more
rational part of his mind doubted whether such a thing could be made on a home sewing
machine. But Ben saw that it was now Geoff’s turn to look embarrassed as understanding
dawned on him. The big man withdrew his arm from Sophie’s shoulder to cradle his drink
and mutter, “Yes, I know the one, I understand now. Sorry, I can see now why that kind of
dress may not be suitable for wearing out, to come across town for a meal with friends.”
Sofie put her own glass down quickly to pull her knees up and wriggle around on the sofa,
giving Geoff a comforting hug and maybe a teasing tickle as she dug her hands under his
armpits, saying, “Have we embarrassed you now, my honey bear? And anyway, maybe it is
not so bad for the girls to wear sexy clothes with good friends. Also the dress that Marcie
sewed is not so naughty, just a white pinafore, easy to make, at least easier than this blouse
as an example, I hope. You found a special watch like a nurse has, to measure the heart, is
that right Marcie? Was Ben’s heart very fast when it was used?”
Ben guessed that Geoff had now understood exactly what Sofie had helped Marcie to make
to help fulfil his own private fantasies by way of a birthday treat, but his friend was
studiously avoiding eye contact, looking down at the clinking ice in the glass that he held in
both hands. Ben tried thinking of something to say to cover his own embarrassment too,
coming out with, “We didn’t actually get the chance to see, the time to try, for Marcie to try
using the watch, I mean, to work it like a professional. I think my heart was fine though, and
my lungs too.”
Geoff seized what might have seemed like a lifeline to him, to divert the conversation back
to safer topics, as he raised his eyes with seemingly genuine concern and asked, “Yes, how
are your lungs, matey? You obviously have those little coughs still. Are you going to see the
consultant again?”
Ben explained that he didn’t expect a follow-up appointment for six months or so if all went
well. He couldn’t remember what he’d already told Geoff, or if Sofie would know the story,
so he summarised everything again for them both.
He explained that the consultant had confirmed that his lungs were permanently scarred
by the pneumoconiosis, caused by the years of inhaling sawdust. He mentioned this had
microscopic particles of irritating silica in it, which grew naturally in the wood of some
species especially, blunting his chainsaws. They made sympathetic noises as he explained
that lung damage wouldn’t heal, reassuring them that it wouldn’t get worse so long as he
avoided the dust and other risky things like smoke. After tests, the specialists had also
confirmed that he gave an allergic response to red cedar, and he’d been told this sensitivity
might have arisen quite recently from excessive contact. As Ben understood it, that had
been a big factor in his first serious asthma attack at the gym, when his damaged lungs
would have already been inflamed. He said that it was comforting to know that another
serious attack was very unlikely now that he knew what to avoid, and now that he had an
inhaler to use at the first sign of tight breathing too.
Geoff and Sofie were both very sympathetic, while Marcie patiently listened to the facts
once more, holding his hand in a comforting way. Sofie interrupted him though, glancing to
the railway-style clock on the wall as she said that she wanted to hear more, but that the
stew and bread were ready. They all eagerly stood up, Marcie leaving her shawl draped on
the sofa, ready to follow Sofie to the kitchen. However Geoff insisted that Marcie and Ben
take a seat at the little square dining table which was tucked against the living-rooms
balcony window whilst he and Sofie got things ready. He suggested they have red wine to
go with the meat, rather than the white that Marcie had kindly brought, but he offered beer
instead if they wanted it and promised to fill a jug of fresh water for them all.
Ben confirmed that wine would be great, knocking back what was left of his gin and tonic,
which the melted ice made refreshingly watery, and Marcie agreed, passing her own empty
glass over to Geoff when he offered to take them through. Marcie and Ben both said how
delicious everything smelt as Sofie brought through first the fresh loaf, which she told them
was a little like soda bread, and then the great pot of stew. She explained it was based on a
recipe from the Brandenberg region, with green beans as well as lamb, but that it was
really just an easy one-pot meal that anything could go into. Ben looked furtively towards
Marcie as Sofie mentioned the stew’s main ingredient, and she caught his eye, raising her
dark eyebrow and smirking. Then she laughed aloud as she happily admitted that she and
Ben had just been saying earlier that morning what a delicious meaty treat lamb was.
Once they’d settled down and raised their glasses of wine that Geoff had filled to say cheers
again, Sofie picked up their previous conversation, asking about the treatment that Ben was
getting for his lungs whilst serving up their bowlfuls of stew. Ben thanked her for his
generous dishful of food, commenting on how appetising it seemed as he realised just how
hungry he was, then he explained that there was no cure, but he had an inhaler to use
regularly, a different one to his emergency puffer, which gave his lungs a dose of steroids
twice a day. He said that he’d been very glad to hear from the consultant that the new
exercise regime that he’d started was exactly the right thing to do. There had been a special
phrase for it, ‘pulmonary rehabilitation,’ but to Ben’s simplified view this had just been
about steady cardio exercise for endurance and stamina, rather than something like more
specialised training for strength or physiotherapy.
Geoff said he sympathised with that, whilst admitting he was doing less strength training
himself these days, but he also said that he guessed Ben was doing far less physically
demanding work in his new job. Sophie wanted to hear all about that too, so Ben explained
his new part-time arrangement with the landscape gardening practice. He mentioned that
the options would have been quite limited for him if he were to have remained with the
Armstrong Trust, perhaps with office administration of works to support his old boss Harry,
which he thought was not very appealing, so they had very helpfully set him up with one of
their long-standing contractors. He felt he’d been lucky to be taken in by his new boss,
Kirsty. He was quite in awe of everything that she knew about plants, but she seemed
grateful to him for being able to do the steady physical work that she was finding harder,
with the aches and pains she’d said that she was more prone to since turning fifty. Ben
even shared his more fanciful speculation that in the longer term she might even imagine
him as someone to take over the whole business when she retired.
Sofie teased Marcie about getting jealous of Kirsty, getting sweaty with her fiancé in all
weathers. However Marcie obviously knew Ben’s real feelings about his new mentor well,
as she was quick to reassure him of his suitability to learn from Kirsty. She also pointed out
that Ben would be starting his horticultural course soon, so he would get a lot more
confident in his knowledge of plant-lore through that. She knew his worries well though, as
she assuaged his anxieties about that once again by promising to help him, “With all the
book stuff.” Ben thanked her again for slyly arranging university library membership for
him too, repeating his feelings about the help this would be for their hosts’ benefit. Marcie
also remarked that Ben was considering taking his studies and practice forwards into
genuine landscape design in the longer term, saying that Ben was spending more time with
his sketchbook and richly playful designs.
Ben dismissed his talent in that area though, admitting that the ideas he put down there
were really just doodles for mind mapping. He mentioned that he’d also wondered how the
climbing might develop in the longer term though, and whether he could become a certified
instructor for kids, and adults wanting to learn too - given that there was so much cross-
over with his old tree safety on the ropes, with the harnesses, anchor points and so on. He
summarised by saying that his future options really were wide open, with lots of exciting
potential paths to explore.
Despite this wool-gathering, Sofie picked up on Marcie’s remark about helping Ben with his
studies, then she asked her to tell her more about her own news from the university, once
she’d prompted Geoff to top up their glasses. Marcie thanked Geoff for the wine as she took
a sip, complimenting Sofie on the delicious food once again too, then began trying to make
sense of the narrative for how her own work was settling down.
She explained that after the crisis with Richard, her second tutor from the library had
weighed in with a huge amount of encouragement and support, leaning on her colleagues
in the School of Computing more heavily to do so, Marcie suspected. That meant she’d not
needed to find a brand new supervisor at all, which had been a great relief. She observed
that Angela, an academic information scientist on the library staff, seemed to have grown
with confidence as she’d stepped up to become Marcie’s sole PhD supervisor. She’d
supported Marcie as she’d briefly toyed with the idea of diverting her ontology
programming into the natural sciences, picking up on all that botanical classification that
Ben knew. But she’d also reassured Marcie that she probably had enough material for her
thesis already, persuading her that there was no need for more content from further
primary research. Marcie laughed bitterly as she admitted that she shouldn’t have been so
naive, but it was becoming clear that Richard had been deliberately playing down the
progress she’d made, presumably so that she’d feel dependent on him for longer.
Sofie sympathised and said that Richard’s brutal fall from grace, which Marcie must have
already told her about in detail, was so richly deserved. Then when Sofie asked to hear
more details about her specific next steps, Marcie confirmed that she wasn’t boring them,
before going on to explain more about where she was in the PhD process.
She said that her diversion into investigating the taxonomies from biology would still add a
bit of context, but she was now planning to put the basics of her methodology down into
her overdue milestone progress review, along with a summary of her previous extensive
survey of the relevant academic literature. She felt confident that a successful review was
achievable before the summer conference season, describing how it would represent a
mini-thesis in its own right, which could even be assessed to award an MPhil if she got no
further. She admitted that when she was at her most hopeful, thanks to Angela’s
reassurance, she felt that once the formality of the review had been signed off, she might
actually be getting straight into the genuine write-up of her final thesis. She concluded by
admitting that she might even be able to get a properly paid academic’s job at the
university while she finished, before the final assessment and award of her doctorate.
That prompted Sofie to ask how much lower Ben’s salary was now, perhaps with a careless
innocence of the traditional British coyness about money, whilst she also encouraged Ben
and Geoff especially to take second helpings from the casserole pot. Ben laughed as he
admitted his income had taken a massive knock, trusting Geoff and Sofie to these
potentially shameful details about his finances. As he helped himself to more stew, he
pointed out that if their circumstances were different, he might even be eligible for
disability benefits, following what would be called an industrial injury.
But then he went on to explain that the Trust had given him a generous redundancy
payment, on top of the compensation pay-out that would be coming. He mentioned that
Marcie’s lawyer friend had advised him to accept the figure for the pay-out that the Trust’s
own lawyers had passed on, explaining that it had probably been inflated as, “A goodwill
gesture,” following the issue of the fire. Ben described how Roland had told them that the
Trust would likely be battling with their insurers to cover the costs of a workplace injury
claim, but they must have dug into their own funds to come up with such a generous
amount. Roland had also said that he would support Ben if he wanted to take it all the way
to the courts, but his advice as a professional and, he hoped, as a friend to the new couple
was that Ben should simply accept the settlement. Ben explained that it would still take a
while for the lump sum to come through, just as it seemed it would for his own insurance
for all that he’d lost in the fire. He admitted he still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that the
money would really be there soon. He knew that some would go towards the horticulture
course, as he felt it should for his professional retraining, but he and Marcie had also talked
about paying off a big chunk of their mortgage when it finally arrived.
Geoff remarked that he might need some help from a professional for that too, as he knew
people who used personal financial advisors and thought they got good returns from them,
though he laughed as he confessed, “Not that myself and Sofe need them!”
Ben silently noted that his friend had made no hint of any concern or suspicion at Ben’s
implication that he’d be sharing his own large windfall with a woman who’d been a
stranger to him just a few months ago. But then Geoff did become serious as he asked to
hear the latest about the investigation into the fire, as he was keen to hear the news, if Ben
didn’t mind talking about it.
Sofie tutted, saying, “We want our guests to have an evening filled with pleasure.” She
emphasised the point by encouraging Ben to take the last of the stew if he could manage it,
also saying there was no need to rake over possible recent trauma. Ben gratefully accepted
yet more food, and also said that he was happy to talk about the fire, if Geoff and Sofie were
genuinely interested. But then Marcie offered to take up that particular story as she
accepted the last of the wine from Geoff, to let Ben carry on with his heroic eating.
She explained that the detective on the case had been back in touch with them to give them
an update, and to ask a few more questions about the people who Ben knew at the Trust.
She recounted how Simon had said that he couldn’t give them the details of the material
they were gathering to make the charges and push through the prosecution. However, he
could tell them that the two young men who’d initially been taken into custody were just
the cat’s paw for a third party. The real instigator of the catastrophic fire was someone
who’d desperately wanted to erase the awkward truth about the Trust’s misconduct that
had caused Ben’s injury. This individual had evidently paid the boys generously to set the
fire, and had even given them tips and materials to make sure they did a thorough job, to
help ensure the workshop burnt to the ground, gutting it of everything that was inside, as
well as incidentally destroying everything in Ben’s flat.
Sofie was shocked to hear that someone could have been so cold and malicious, when the
facts about Ben’s injured lungs were so clear anyway, then she asked if either of them
suspected who it might have been that the police had in their sights. Looking at Ben with
sensitive concern, Marcie explained that it seemed it wasn’t anyone who knew Ben well.
She went on, “DCI Simon just gave us a hint, as it happens. He thought that with the
influence of the Armstrong Trust, and public goodwill towards it, they may be able to keep
the story out of the press when the trial eventually comes around. But he observed that the
membership of the board of directors, or ‘trustees’, is published each year with their
annual accounts. So he said if we really wanted to know who the guilty party was, we could
just look to see which name had dropped off that list.”
“That’s awful,” Geoff said vehemently, “Some Newcastle big-wig, thinks he’s better than
everyone else, just because he’s a toff or he’s made a bit of coin and climbed the greasy
pole. Then when something isn’t going his way, when it looks like his cosy gentleman’s
charity might get some flack, he uses a couple of dopey minor crims to do his dirty work, to
try ruining someone else’s life. Well you’re showing him Ben, Marcie too. You’re making a
beautiful happy love, enjoying your new life, while he’s got the plod knocking on his fancy
front door, bringing his noncy high-class lifestyle down around his ears.”
Ben was a bit taken aback by his friend’s outburst, but he could only agree as he looked
into Marcie’s wide brown eyes and smiled, saying, “Aye, that’s how it is, it seems. We are
happy, and this old boy, if this guilty trustee is a man, he’s looking at prison. Simon was
clear, arson, with threat to life, is serious - and that’s what he’s up for, even if he didn’t
light the match himself. Marcie said that made sense, from her lawyer studies. He’ll
probably be worse off than the local charvas, if they’ve been helpful, pleading guilty and
testifying. I feel a bit sorry for him, in a way. He must have just panicked, when he heard the
Trust had broken health and safety laws. I bet he regrets it now.”
“Don’t be sorry for him,” Sofie said firmly, reaching over to pat Ben’s hand, “It was a very
bad thing. This director is an educated man, I think. He knew what he did. But Geoff is right,
you are the winners. Yes, you have had the trouble, but now it is behind you. It is like they
say, ‘Love saves the day.’ You have joy and hope and strength and big fun together. We
hope we all share your happy future, four friends who decide to get married, maybe
sharing the celebration at the same time! But now I also have a desert we can also share, if
we all have the appetite?”
Geoff laughed as he said, “Well I have, but I know what’s coming - cheesecake and
mascarpone cream! And I think Ben’s appetite is just as big as mine, if Marcie’s not worn
you out yet today. But we’ve run out of wine! Do people want another bottle, or something
sweeter? We’ve got Baileys and Glayva, or the usuals - beer, brandy too, I don’t know what
else.”
Marcie perhaps deliberately ignored his crudely suggestive remark as she asked what
Glayva was like, whilst also agreeing to some pudding and offering to help clear up. Sophie
dismissed her offer to help, but described the whisky liqueur as delicious and dangerously
moreish. They agreed they’d all give it go, though Sophie cautioned Geoff to remember he’d
already done quite well for drinks with his early start that afternoon. He promised he’d be
careful and said he’d fill up their jug of water too as he got up, patting Ben and Marcie on
their shoulders before going to get fresh glasses, giving them a weighty squeeze as he said
ambiguously, “Well done.”
Chapter 54
Ben and Marcie gave each other a happy smile as they were left alone for a moment,
gripping each other’s hands wordlessly. Ben thought of the way his friend had carelessly
gripped the bare skin of Marcie’s shoulder, but he recognised he felt no suspicion or
jealousy at that, especially as he gazed into the wide limpid warmth of Marcie’s sparkling
eyes under her glasses. He risked leaning forwards to briefly kiss her lips, where her glossy
russet lipstick had been worn away to a thin edge by the food and wine that he could taste
on her mouth. They were still at it, Marcie’s free hand gently resting on Ben’s jaw, her
bangles softly jangling at her wrist, their lips parted as they pressed together, when Sofie
caught them, coming back through with the rich dessert on a special decorated plate.
“Oh!” she said in mild surprise as they quickly broke apart, “I do not mind. Here you can
kiss when you want to. I hope also that it is okay for you too if Geoff kisses me as well when
you are here.”
Ben and Marcie both reassured her that was just fine with them as their hands remained
locked together, before politely admiring the desert. Ben felt a little like a naughty teenager,
but when he saw Marcie’s broad smile, he realised that he did not really feel at all guilty. He
recognised that the gin and wine, as well as the generous meal, had given him a pleasant
feeling of comfort that was familiar, a little like being wrapped in an internal duvet, and
that lightly intoxicated feeling reenforced his general mood of joyful satisfaction. He was
keen to maintain that with a few sips of the sweet Glayva, which Geoff had come into the
room carrying, along with a cluster of ice-filled glass tumblers in his other big hand.
“Have I missed something?” his friend asked, perhaps catching Sophie’s last few words and
seeing how the newly betrothed couple were grinning sheepishly.
“Your fiancé caught us having a little kiss,” Marcie admitted, “Apparently it’s okay to carry
on like that here though, as no one minds if there’s a bit of smooching when we’re all
friends together. So I guess if Ben and I notice you two having a bit of a cuddle later, we
won’t tell, and your secret will be safe.”
Geoff looked a bit sheepish himself now as he set down the heavy glasses, and Ben
wondered if he’d just remembered the time that Ben had slept over here before, when he’d
overheard Geoff and Sofie making love. Geoff didn’t seem to be trying too hard to cover
anything up though as he said simply, “Sophie knows best. I just fit in when and where she
says.”
Ben wondered if the big man had meant to make an innuendo as he watched him retake his
seat with a contented sigh, but the moment passed as he unscrewed the bottle’s lid to pour
out some slugs of the liqueur. Sophie didn’t seem to have reacted to his remark either as
she offered the slices of cheesecake that she was cutting to each of them in turn.
When they’d all been served, Ben raised his new glass to say cheers and thank Sophie and
Geoff once more for the wonderful food and company, then said, “I’m sorry, we’ve been
selfish, me especially. We’ve talked non-stop about ourselves, and you’ve not told us what
you’ve been up to.”
Sofie scoffed at this as she took a delicate mouthful of the creamy pudding, saying, “No
apology is needed. Your stories are very interesting. You know what we do. Geoff has a
large project with some trouble, but it will work out. He looks forward to the sailing in the
summer and enjoys the gym meanwhile. I have the new targets at work but the team do the
same job. Our big news is we are engaged, but now that is your big news too. So that is very
good and we can plan our weddings together! But we have said there is no rush already.
Marcie can enjoy the new feeling before she makes her choice for the dress.”
That prompted Marcie to gesture urgently as she finished her own mouthful before she
could speak, “Hmm, but I’ve discussed that with Ben already! I said that I don’t want a
great big white meringue, but I think a part of him quite likes the idea of taking me up the
aisle in something like that, with all the Catholic bells and smells! This is simply delicious
by the way, the lovely pudding, but this syrupy drink especially.”
Sofie confirmed the cheesecake was just from the supermarket, but said how glad she was
that Marcie liked the Glayva, as she loved the way it slipped down so easily. Marcie had
clearly been having more thoughts about wedding dresses though as she went on, “But you
know, that whole white dress thing is really dodgy if you think about it in some ways, isn’t
it? It’s about purity, it’s about virginity, right? And is that really who we should try to
pretend we are today, in the twenty-first century? We are not shy virgins being offered
with a dowry by our fathers into our new husbands’ households. We are grown woman,
sexually active, making our own minds up about who we want to share our lives with, as
equal partners who respect and love each other, with our hearts, our minds and our bodies,
right? A part of me wants to wear a sexy black number, an LBD or a great gothic witchy
vampire thing. Or red, of course, in brazen scarlet as I stand beside the man I love, declaring
our vows, saying that is who I am when I make my promise, I’m fire and blood, dangerous,
hot and alive!”
Ben was surprised at how candid Marcie was being, but Sofie was eagerly agreeing, “You
are right! It is very true, we are not pure little girls, we are sexy women in love! We know
the passion and we show it with our men. We are as you say, the living flame, full of the red
blood and the magic, and that is how we can dress.”
“Could you make a dress like that?” Marcie asked with fascination, hastily adding, “Not for
me! I mean for yourself, something that looked like a living flame, with tapering layers of
gauze maybe, perhaps with sparks and sequins too?”
Sofie laughed lightly, pushing her empty plate away as she took a long sip of her amber
drink, “No way! Even this blouse is as difficult as can be for me, and I cheat with it. It has
poppers, you see? Not real buttons.”
Ben had been keeping quiet as the two women had been speculating, inadvertently
recalling the thought of Sophie dressed in her erotic costume for Geoff at the mention of a
red dress. Now he couldn’t ignore her as she set her tumbler down again, then stood up to
model her elegant blouse in its bright silky fabric, loose in the arms and the bust, tapering
to snug cuffs and a cinched waist. Sofie had held her arms out to do a little twirl, and Ben
noted with objective attention to the details that it must indeed have been complex to sew,
with its pleats, its collar and its yoke. He’d also noticed when Sophie had leant forwards
over the table as she demonstrated the pearlescent studs down its front. Her neckline was
already gaping a little, but when she undid one popper Ben felt himself blush to see the pale
skin along the inner edge of one of her small breasts momentarily exposed.
He quickly glanced guiltily first at Geoff, who was smiling happily toward Sofie, then at
Marcie, who met his eyes and gave him what was perhaps an indulgent smile of her own. It
seemed that if either had noticed where his eyes had lingered, they didn’t care. So he felt
confident looking back toward Sofie’s sparkling eyes as she fell back down into her seat
heavily and prompted Geoff to refill their glasses with a gesture and an affectionate,
“Honey bear?”
Ben wanted to offer a Sofie compliment, perhaps at some level by way of thanks for the
uninhibited way that she’d almost revealed herself to him, so he said, “It’s amazing, how
well you made it. It reminds me of Seventies fashion, like someone in films back then, I
don’t know, Katharine Ross maybe?”
“Oh don’t let him get started with his film goddesses!” Marcie pleaded with a laugh, and
Ben was actually quite relieved by her teasing, as he’d just remembered that the actress
who’d popped into his mind had been in The Stepford Wives. He really didn’t want to go
there, as Geoff and he anticipated their married futures with their wonderfully strong-
willed and enthusiastically dynamic girlfriends. He also darkly suspected the film had
somehow bubbled up from the depths of his memories because of the shockingly exciting
scene when the replacement wife’s breast was voyeuristically revealed through her thin
negligee.
“I do not know this Katharine, Ben,” Sofie admitted with a light laugh of her own, “I hope
she was not ugly. But you are serious about taking Marcie in the church?”
Ben was quite sure that Sofie was being suggestive with her question, but he tried to
answer it jokingly at both it’s possible levels, saying, “I would love to take Marcie wherever
she wants, but she was teasing, I think. I don’t think we will get married in church. I think
you are still a Roman Catholic, deep down, aren’t you love? It was part of your childhood,
part of your identity, with the Maltese community in Manchester. We can’t pretend that
didn’t happen, and you still often call on Holy Mary. But we just play with it now, I think,
like it’s another mythology, talking about it beside Classical gods and goddesses, and fairy
stories like Narnia. I guess the only real reason we might be serious, why we’d book a
church, is if it made your mum happy?”
He’d turned toward Marcie, taking her hand again now that they’d finished their puddings.
She lifted her glass with her free hand to sip her liqueur before she replied, saying, “You’re
too kind with my daft old mum. I’m really not worrying about what she would like, and she
would be just as vague and confused in our old church in Manchester as she would be at a
disco ashram in Ibiza. But you should think of your family too. What would your dad like?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t expect anything, I’m pretty sure. He’d be happy in a church, I reckon, but
just as happy for us in a registry office - though a trip to Ibiza may be tricky for him. Granny
would like to see us in church, I guess, making our vows in Jesus’ name, just like your
Nanna too. But you know her feelings, her suspicion of vicars, and I guess Nanna wouldn’t
fly over from Malta for it.”
Marcie gave him a sweet smile, perhaps he’d accidentally referred to Marcie’s Nanna as if
she were part of his family now too. She obviously had other playful ideas too though, as
she said, “Oh, it all sounds a bit boring and grown-up, doesn’t it? With what you said about
fairy stories and myths, and what with meeting a real Heathen on the beach this afternoon,
I almost feel like we should do something deliberately pagan. We could do it outside
beneath the sun and the sky, the ceremony I mean! Maybe we could stand together next to
the sea, linking it to all that sailing that you and Geoff do. I can even imagine us on the deck
of a replica Viking longship, like your model from Skuldelev, drawn up on the Lindisfarne
beach. We’d symbolically tie our knots together in the rigging, to catch the fresh wind that
will carry us over the sea on our shared journey.”
“It sounds like you have very good ideas from the Viking biker friends you made,” Sofie
said with a delighted chuckle, “We have no plans for a wedding in church. There was no
religion when I was growing up, and Geoff is not a holy man, so maybe we can share your
pagan ceremony outside. But I think maybe you two had the exciting ideas to celebrate
outside in nature by yourselves already. This afternoon you made love in the dunes on Holy
Island?”
Marcie laughed aloud at Sofie’s shockingly blunt question, almost stated as if she knew the
truth and was challenging them to contradict her. Ben felt the familiar ticklish warmth
returning in his cheeks once again as he wondered how to avoid answering without lying,
perhaps by diverting them with the story of the motorbike cavalcade.
However Marcie seemed confident as she tightened her grip on Ben’s hand, setting her
bare shoulders back as she said clearly, with a smile playing on her lips, “Yes, we made love
just before Ben proposed. After we’d finished our lunch, we had a kiss and a cuddle, and
then we both let that go further in what seemed a very natural way. It was so quiet and
open there, with no one around and nothing to hear but the birdsong, a beautiful and
magical place to be truly together. I hope Ben agrees that it felt as if we were transforming
the simple act into our own kind of spiritual rite, more profound and satisfying than it is in
the bedroom, even if we weren’t under a comfy duvet.”
Ben felt proud of Marcie for being so honest with their friends as they looked deep into
each other’s eyes. He saw her chest rise and fall with deep breaths, and noticed the colour
on her own cheeks beneath her olive skin and freckles - all as if she’d just faced a physical
challenge, so that her broad grin arose from a great athletic triumph. He returned that
smile with what he hoped was encouraging warmth to reassure her that she’d said exactly
the right thing.
But Ben turned back to Sofie as she spoke wistfully, taking Geoff’s big paw in her delicate
hand too, “I thought it was as you say. You are brave. I remember one time last year on the
summer holiday we made love outside. It was above the beach in Croatia, but it was
nighttime and maybe we were a little drunk, like we are now, just a little. It was beautiful,
there were so many stars. Geoff took the time slowly, until I was gasping for air, and I truly
felt our love! It was a big romance for us. But your story is a big romance too. You made a
magic love, and then Ben asked you to marry, and you said yes! For us it was the other way
around.”
“How do you mean?” Marcie asked, leaning forwards with a cheeky curiosity and carelessly
pouring them all more Glayva.
Sofie took a sip from her recharged glass as she leaned back, sending a sly smile Geoff’s
way, as she began, “It was an evening in the pub in the big town. Not the time we first met,
when I made my new friend Marcie, when we both saw the funny boys’ tattoos, but soon
after. I think my big strong man at last realised he did not want me to go home with a
different funny boy. We were back at home and we were having just one more drink before
bed. We were on the sofa having a kiss and a cuddle as you say. We were undressed and
stroking each other, touching the vagina and the penis. Do not worry! The cover had a wash
after this, it is clean. But this night when we cuddle and lose our clothes, it was nice, but I
was tired and maybe it would not go further, as you also say, but maybe Geoff would like it
to further.”
Ben suddenly felt that Sofie was being more graphic than he’d ever have expected, and far
more candid than even Marcie had been. But as he glanced around, he saw Geoff looking
relaxed as he reclined and cradled his glass, smiling at his fiancé, whilst Marcie was
grinning with rapt attention. He felt a part of his mind give a mental shrug as he took a sip
of his own liqueur and listened without interrupting as Sofie went on, “Well now Geoff has
a way to wake me up and make me feel more love. He has a ring already that he has bought
secretly, just like Ben I think. He rushes to get it, running to the secret place with his penis
big and sticking up! He shows it to me, the ring I mean, not the penis, and he says he wants
to marry me! I scream, I think, I am so excited and happy. Of course I say yes, and I feel sexy,
I feel it very strongly when he wants to put the ring on my finger. But the ring then is a little
small so it won’t go all the way down my finger. We need something to make it more
slippy.”
Marcie gave an excited laugh of delight as she dropped Ben’s hand to cover her mouth,
“Mother of God, you didn’t, did you?”
“You know it already,” Sofie said with a huge grin, still clutching Geoff’s hand with affection,
“I put the finger inside the vagina where it is wet, and I rub it all around. When I take the
finger out it is very slippy with my own juice! Geoff is very excited, his penis is standing up
very strong and tall now, and he puts the ring on easily. You know what happens next too, I
think. So we make love then, just after we get engaged, when you two make love just before.
I wonder what you think, which is better?” Sofie was rocking with laughter as she finished,
and Marcie was joining in, almost shrieking with delight as tears rolled down her cheeks,
gripping Ben’s hand again.
Ben caught Geoff’s eye, and he saw his friend was smiling a little guiltily, “I’m sorry you
had to hear that, matey. I blame the Glayva. It’s not a story I’d repeat to anyone else.”
“No bother,” Ben said, smiling back contentedly, “You can trust Marcie and me, like you
know we trust you both. Anyway, Marcie has already spilt the beans, about what we did in
the dunes.”
“It wasn’t the beans that got spilt there!” Marcie said cheekily, leaning across and pushing
her chest forwards provocatively as she placed a quick wet peck on his cheek. But then she
immediately rocked backwards and joined Sofie in another peel of wild laughter.
“But your old Viking strangers, they were already watching when you spilt Ben’s beans?
They did not just see him on one knee?” Sofie asked urgently, catching her breath and
sipping her drink again.
Ben tried to regain some control of the ribald conversation by answering truthfully on
behalf of them both, saying, “We don’t think so. I walked with the man, Graham, while
Marcie spoke to Marion. They told the same story. They heard us, and Marion worked it out,
but then they hung back, guarding us from other passers-by even. But we were trying to be
discrete anyway, arranging things so no one would actually see, well, see our private bits.”
“What if they did watch? What if they did see the penis? Would that change how it felt?”
Sofie asked with suddenly sharp acuity.
Marcie seemed to ponder the question seriously as she cradled her glass, and Ben was
curious to hear what she’d say too. After taking a small sip of the amber liquid, she’d
obviously made up her mind as she set the glass down and said firmly, “No. No, it changes
nothing, does it? If you take it right back to first principles, here is a couple, faithful lovers,
genuinely, and ready to get married as it turns out. Their love includes expressions of
physical intimacy, just as it does for almost every other couple at some point in their lives,
throughout history and around the world. It’s a cliche, but we’re also like other animals,
other mammals at least, in our biology. It’s important for us as individuals and for our
species that we find a partner and that we mate with them. It’s an energy that drives us to
do all sorts of things, but it comes down to putting those private bits together. Perhaps
someone saw Ben and me do that, but so what? I’d be embarrassed if everyone saw - as it
breaks social taboos and I wouldn’t want us to be singled out as perverts who go against
the established conservative mores of public decency - but we didn’t deliberately set out to
be seen, to be exhibitionists, and we certainly meant no harm by it.”
“So it is okay if someone sees, perhaps a stranger, or perhaps a close friend who you can
trust with a secret, but you do not need to make an exhibit? It is not more exciting because
you are seen?” Sofie asked earnestly, clearly with a sincere interest in Marcie’s feelings.
“That sounds about right,” Marcie agreed decisively, “And I think Ben agrees. We would not
seek to intimately expose ourselves deliberately, but if someone just happens to see us and
they don’t mind, then where is the harm? So long as they don’t try to join in, to get involved
in the action, it is still just our own personal and honest love, bringing us together in our
natural union.”
“Aye, I’ve said we are two become one,” Ben contributed, demonstrating that honesty, he
hoped. He explained, “I mean it emotionally, as it’s the way I truly feel, but it happens
physically too, making our bodies join together. It’s a natural thing, as Marcie says.”
“I think we are almost the same,” Sofie said softly, her voice suddenly quiet and serious,
almost as if she were shy or unhappy, “I also do not want to break taboos, and I do not want
the others to join in when I make love with Geoff. But I do not mind if another person sees,
if this someone knows we are making the union. When it happens, I want to become one
with him, like it is an ache, but maybe I want the others to know that. Then it feels better,
stronger. It is more true. So maybe I am the exhibitionist, I am the pervert, who wants her
true love with her man to be seen.”
Ben could tell that Marcie clearly had sincere sympathy for Sofie’s tender feelings, which
had become exposed as she’d tried to share these previously hidden thoughts. Ben felt a
strong compassion towards his friend’s future wife himself as Marcie dropped his hand to
reach across the table and clasp Sofie’s free hand in both hers, saying firmly, “No! It is no
perversion, and if you do like to play at being an exhibitionist, there is nothing wrong with
that, as long as you keep yourself and Geoff safe. If anyone wants to take offence, then that
is their problem, not yours. The love you two share is a beautiful thing and as sacred as
anything else on this living Earth. You are right to celebrate it and to want to show it off,
especially if the people you show it off to are kind and respectful towards you both, if they
want you to be happy. And who wouldn’t? You are a truly a beautiful and loving couple, and
Ben and I are very lucky to be your close friends.”
As Marcie spoke, Ben remembered once again how he’d accidentally heard Geoff and Sofie
making love before, and he guessed Marcie was now leaving the metaphorical door open
for them to do so again. He realised he felt at ease with that, just as he did with the thought
of them overhearing Marcie’s passionate vocalisations, were he to help her achieve her
orgasm while they were in the room next door. Yet he had no time to work out a polite way
to phrase these thoughts, to find a way to further reassure Sofie, before Sofie herself said
decisively, “Thank you. You two are very beautiful and loving also. I am very lucky and very
happy to be friends. But you are here tonight to watch the big Matrix film, not to listen to
my nonsense speaking!”
She was already rising to her feet as she gathered their empty plates, saying that she would
make a coffee to settle the meal and balance the alcohol, then asked what everyone else
wanted. Marcie had immediately risen to her feet too, saying that she’d love a cup of tea,
but that she would help. Ben began to push himself up and offered to help too, but Marcie
told him firmly to stay in the living room and help Geoff get the DVD ready instead.
Ben acquiesced as he understood that she and Sofie might want to continue some kind of
girl-talk on their own in the kitchen whilst he and Geoff set up their boys’ film. He felt that
he and Marcie had both quite suddenly become a lot closer to Sofie and Geoff though,
reaching a surprising new level of honesty in their friendship this evening, perhaps as a
consequence of them all deciding to move on to the next stage in their lives together. There
was no chance for him to say this out loud though as he reached out to give Marcie’s bare
shoulder a parting caress and share a smile of deep contentment. Marcie didn’t say
anything either, but Ben guessed she felt the same way, as she pouted her lips as if blowing
him a kiss and ruffled his hair with her free hand, before following Sofie out of the room,
scooping up a bunch of empty wineglasses as she left.
Geoff was stirring himself from what Ben guessed was a deeper fug of alcohol-assisted
contentment, standing up to draw the curtains on the darkened sky and to switch from the
overhead light to a pair of cosy lamps. As he moved around the room, he asked Ben vaguely,
“Are you doing okay, matey? Are you and Marcie doing okay, enjoying yourselves?”
Ben reassured him that he was doing very well indeed and that he was sure Marcie was
enjoying herself just as much as he was, “Thanks to the delicious food, and your kindness.
It’s like the meal was a celebration, not for my birthday, but for us all getting engaged. I feel
we’ve got closer, as friends, does that make sense?”
“We are all friends, aren’t we?” Geoff said, gesturing for Ben to follow him over to the sofas.
As he squatted down by the television and hi-fi, fumbling about with a DVD case, he went
on, “I’m really glad you’re getting serious with Marcie. She’s given you new life, I think, and
her and Sofe get on really well. It’s like they’ve known each other forever, like they’re
sisters under the skin. I’m glad you’re staying over, that we can all have a drink together.
You must do it any time you like, coming around here. Sofie’s made sure the sofa-bed and
the spare duvet and pillows are all clean for you. It’s ready to fold out whenever you want.”
Ben thanked him, wondering at just what might be going through Geoff’s mind as his
thoughts had clearly gone straight to his and Marcie’s bedtime arrangements here. But his
big friend was clearly a little confused himself as he got the television working and went on,
“There it goes, not too loud, ‘Menu, play movie, pause,’ that’s it. I’m sorry, matey, I think
I’m a bit bleary with all the booze I’ve had today. I admit, I wasn’t sure if I was following
what Sofe and Marcie were saying just then, or if I was imagining things. Was Sofie asking
too many personal questions about what you and Marcie were up to on your trip to Holy
Island? I hope it was okay, that you and Marcie are still enjoying yourselves.”
Ben was aware that Geoff was repeating himself a little, but he thought he understood the
underlying worry in his friend’s thoughts. He tried to set his mind at rest without
embarrassing either of them too much by saying, “It’s all okay, skipper. Marcie and me are
having a lovely evening. Marcie loves sharing things, the cheeky ideas too. She’s close to
Sofie now, I think. We’re all close friends, even closer now, like we’re in synch, deciding to
get married. You and I, we know we’ve found our special companions. Marcie and Sofie
were just saying it’s okay to love, I guess, to be honest about that. And I’m happy being
honest too, with you and Sofie.”
“Well you know you can count on us, matey,” Geoff reassured him vaguely, rising to his feet,
“We’re a solid crew, there’s no doubt about that. You can trust us with everything. There
are no secrets when you’re sailing offshore together, right? But shall we check on the girls,
to tell them we’re ready to go with the film? Do you want another drink too? I’ve got a nice
bottle of Speyside if you wanted a wee dram.”
Chapter 55
Though Ben and Geoff had not been able to overhear Sofie and Marcie talking from the
living room, even when Geoff had stopped the background music of the shuffling CDs, Ben
had heard the occasional shriek of laughter coming from the kitchen and had guessed what
they might still be talking about. He felt his suspicion confirmed as he followed Geoff into
the kitchen and heard Marcie concluding, “So I helped him to write it all down, and that’s
hardly normal, is it? But it was great fun, a real turn-on for both of us.”
Ben immediately guessed that Marcie had been telling Sophie about the erotic story of his
first time with Ashley that he’d typed up on her laptop - which she’d teased out of him,
testing his imagination as much as his memory with her persistent encouragement and
patient editing. They had both enjoyed writing it, Ben knew, but he hoped Marcie hadn’t
shared too many of the specific details with Sofie. He guessed that Marcie had used their
writing as an example of how their shared expression of sexuality was evolving into
something that may not be typical, but was still irrefutably healthy and positive. He guessed
that she may still be finding ways to reassure Sophie that her own hidden feelings about
sexual expression were just fine, but he also knew that he didn’t need to pry.
They’d caught Marcie leaning on the kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea in one hand,
close enough for Sofie to rest a hand on her arm. When she noticed Ben and Geoff looming
in the corridor, she immediately changed the subject by going straight on to say, “Oh, hello
you two. Is the film ready? We got drawn into our little chat about little things. But Ben’s
very excited about the new films coming out. Is yours too?”
Sofie giggled as she turned to face them, still pawing at Marcie as she said, “Yes, he likes to
watch all the action. But I hope you two do not listen when Marcie talks to me about the
private little things.”
Ben could tell that Geoff was about to protest that they’d not been earwigging when Marcie
struck out in another language, “Wir können deutsch sprechen?”
Sofie laughed lightly as she immediately responded, “Ou la française? C’est la langue de
l’amour.”
Marcie leaned forwards conspiratorially, gripping Sofie’s arm, as she confidently went on,
“‘La langue’, pas ‘le langage’? Comme ç’est dans la bouche, pour l’amour? Vraiment c’est le
meilleur!”
Sofie shrieked with laughter at this, putting her hand over Marcie’s, as Ben looked at Geoff
to see his own blank incomprehension mirrored on his friend’s face. “It’s like they’ve
turned into a pair of twelve year olds,” Geoff sighed.
That prompted another quick exchange between Marcie and Sofie that was unintelligible to
Ben, though he picked out the words “écolières” and “uniforme”, which seemed to cause
more puerile laughter.
“She carries on like this with our neighbour too, Shona, the young mother,” Ben admitted
with resignation, “Not in French, and not so freely, maybe, but still all private jokes, at my
expense, I think. It’s like she has a naughty imp, bursting with cheeky ideas, which she can’t
let out when she’s at work, all professional in the library, so she saves it for her
girlfriends.”
“I guess you and I will just have to resign ourselves to putting up with a lot more of that,
going forwards,” Geoff said with an apologetic smile, going to the cupboard to get the bottle
of malt whisky out. Ben found himself agreeing, happily imagining the long future of their
friendship whilst they all learnt the healthy humour between married couples that he
hoped they’d find with maturity.
Ben offered the whisky to Marcie and Shona, but they said they might stick to Glayva if they
wanted to sip something sweet while watching the film after they’d had their hot drinks,
still giggling together at the thought. Ben placidly thanked them for making his tea too as he
took it, then they all made their way through to the living room with all their mugs, bottles
and glasses, leaving the dishwasher that Marcie and Sofie had evidently filled purring away
behind them. They settled down onto the twin sofas, setting their drinks on the little tables
that were arranged for just that purpose, as Geoff started the film. Ben noticed how they all
fell into the same pattern, the girls cuddling up to the boys, each tucking themselves under
an outstretched arm, resting their heads against their lovers’ shoulders, Marcie’s hand on
Ben’s thigh, Sofie’s on Geoff’s chest.
Ben sipped his tea in contentment as the film began. When Trinity sprung in the first
martial arts routine to fight off the police squad that had surrounded her, Marcie
commented, “There she goes, Ben’s dream woman, an angel of death and destruction
wrapped in glossy black PVC.”
Sofie chuckled from the other sofa, “It is Geoff’s dream too, but I cannot do the
gymnastics!” Her remark made Marcie laugh, but Ben thought it best to remain silent and
keep his peace rather than mount some hopeless defence against Marcie’s accusation or,
even worse, admit he’d visualised Sofie dressed in PVC. Marcie and Sofie kept making
occasional comments along the same lines, jealously admiring Carrie Anne Moss, but Ben
noticed how Sofie was cuddling up closer to Geoff as they did so. She’d tucked her feet up
on the sofa under her knees, which were resting across Geoff’s parted thighs, and she’d
wrapped both arms around him, leaning her head against his chest while they both faced
the television.
Marcie had perhaps noticed this too and wanted to imitate her, as she quietly released Ben
to lean forwards and begin unlacing her boots. Ben surreptitiously followed her example,
slipping out of his trainers and socks. By the time Neo was reaching the exotic club in the
film, Marcie had curled herself around Ben too, tangling their legs together, whilst Ben
buried his nose in her soft cloud of hair, luxuriantly inhaling the warm fragrances of her
shampoo, her perfume and her warm skin. He was aware that there had been some
fidgeting and shuffling about on the other sofa, but he’d not really cared to look too closely
at what Geoff and Sofie were getting up to now.
“Would you fancy a night out there, Sofie?” Marcie called across from her nest against
Ben’s chest and neck. He guessed she was only joking as she also asked, “Are there any
clubs like that in Newcastle we could all go to?”
“It looks to be fun,” Sofie confirmed, “I think maybe I have some clothes that would let me
fit in there. Can Geoff and Ben promise that their hands would stay just on us though? I do
not know a club like it really, but maybe they already know them from nights before we are
their lovers?”
Ben heard Geoff murmur a sluggish denial, though Ben decided to keep quiet once again,
knowing that Marcie already knew of the things he got up to in his past, with Phoebe
especially, even if they’d not deliberately sought out the clubs’ fetish nights back then. He
did glance over towards Geoff though, and was a little surprised to see that his shirt was
unbuttoned to let Sofie’s hand play across his hairy chest. Though he couldn’t really see, he
thought the front of Sofie’s blouse may have been parted too, as Geoff’s own hand was
concealed under its loose folds. Again he felt himself give a mental shrug at this as he
reached to take a sip of his whisky, now that he’d drained the last of his tea. He wondered if
the open shirt was a portent for further intimacy that Sofie and Geoff might be working
themselves towards, but he resolved to not be at all worried if he and Marcie ended up as
witnesses to something more between the other betrothed couple.
Yet Marcie must have noticed their friends’ loosened clothing too, for as they went on
watching the film, she spontaneously began unbuttoning his shirt as well, her bangles
making a subtle clinking noise as she moved. He cuddled up to her more firmly as she did
this, taking a luxuriantly deep breath when she slipped her hand against his bare skin to
trigger a pleasant tingle that ran through his body. He nuzzled up against her, kissing her
neck behind her ear, his lips brushing her soft skin against the hard edge of the arm of her
glasses as he inhaled her complex scent. He’d spontaneously raised his own hand to caress
the base of her neck too, his fingertips drifting over her collarbones and the thick chain of
her long necklace.
He’d barely noticed that the film had reached the dramatic moment when Neo wakes up in
his tank in the future world of the machines. Sofie spoke up to give the scene commentary
though, saying dreamily, “This is good for Neo now, I think. He feels healthier, to be all
flushed away, even if it is a big surprise. He can start getting better now, with a strong new
girlfriend helping him.”
Ben wondered if Sofie had meant her words to be deliberately relevant to his situation as
well, but as he’d heard her say them, he realised how strongly he agreed. He looked up and
turned towards her to say, “Aye, you’re right. He’s much better off, with Trinity to look
after him.”
As he glanced over though, he realised that she and Geoff were already moving things along
quickly themselves. There was no mistaking that Sofie’s blouse was parted and wide open
now, as it had fallen away to one side, revealing the bare skin of her chest and stomach. Ben
could not see her breast though, as Geoff’s head was bowed low across her, almost
certainly so that he could bring his lips to Sofie’s hidden nipple, Ben inferred. Meanwhile
Geoff had twisted around, and with his knees still parted wide, Ben could clearly see that
Sofie’s hand was wrapped firmly around his bulging groin. A part of Ben was glad that his
friend still had his trousers on, but he guessed that if he looked their way again later, he
may risk seeing a lot more than he really wanted to. It seemed inevitable that Sofie would
open Geoff’s flies next, to touch and stimulate his penis directly. Though Ben still did not
mind them taking things further in his and Marcie’s presence, he didn’t feel any desire to
watch them make that transition from an affectionate cuddle to genuine sexual intimacy.
Though Ben guessed that Marcie must be wise to what Geoff and Sofie were doing, she gave
no overt sign of it as she contributed her own observation, “It is good for Neo. He has his
eyes truly open now. He can see the outer world as it really is, but Morpheus’s crew can
still see the constructed inner world of the Matrix too, can’t they? They see it all with
understanding, without illusion, able to discern what’s important.”
As Ben reflected on Marcie’s words, he recognised that perhaps she was obliquely referring
to what was going on at that moment in the living room too. Sofie had spoken openly about
her possible exhibitionism at the table, and now she seemed to be going through with it in
her actions with Geoff. Ben watched the film for a moment as the dialogue flowed between
the Nebuchadnezzar’s crew, and he once again reflected on what he honestly thought
about that. He was breathing slowly and steadily as he felt Marcie’s fingertips play across
his chest, fiddling around the Maltese pendant, whilst his own big rough hand brushed the
silky skin of her shoulders, neck and upper chest. He was aware that he was already slightly
aroused, more than being merely comfortably relaxed, and he realised with a sudden
honest insight that this was at least partly because of Sofie’s eager expression of active
sexual contact, almost within arm’s reach.
He wondered if Marcie felt the same way, if she felt she was not merely a tolerant witness
to their friends’ love, but was also becoming distinctly turned on by a sense of shared
intimacy. He wasn’t sure if he could ask her out loud, but he did deliberately curl around
her once more, cradling her head in one hand as he bowed his own head forwards, finding
her lips with his. They kissed, slowly and tenderly at first, their hands still caressing each
other’s chests. Marcie was massaging Ben’s pectoral muscles, rubbing her palms over his
vestigial nipples, brushing her lingering fingertips down his abdomen, and by doing all this,
steadily strengthening his arousal. Ben’s own fingers were drifting from the skin of her
shoulders and clavicles to the edge of her dress, feeling for the soft rise of her breasts
beneath the pleated drawstring that was tied in the bow at the slight gap over her cleavage.
As his fingertips traced the mound of her breast, the loose cotton slipping a little over the
firm satin of her strapless bra beneath, Marcie raised her lips to his ear and whispered,
“Hmm, is my shawl still here? Drape it over me please, if you want to undo the zip and slip
my bra off. And why don’t you take your shirt right off too, if you’re comfortable with
that?”
Ben eagerly murmured his assent as he sat upright and pulled his shirt down over his arms
to begin with. He was still twisted around to face Marcie, but he was aware of a lot of
shuffling and fidgeting noises from Geoff and Sofie on the other sofa just behind him. He
could also hear some heavy breathing, as well as the occasional expressive sigh or quiet
moan, from both of them it seemed. He very deliberately did not turn around, and though
he guessed Marcie had a better view, he did not need to know if she was watching their
progress, and he did not ask her for any details.
Marcie giggled a little he arranged the shawl carefully across her bare shoulders, getting his
own knees up onto the sofa now. And then they kissed again, honestly and eagerly, mouths
ajar and jaws working as their tongues slipped messily around each other, noisily forcing
their breath through their noses in their growing hunger for each other. As they kissed,
Marcie gripped Ben’s head firmly with both hands, her bangles softly chiming by his ears,
her nails digging into his scalp as her fingers tangled in his hair. His hands were exploring
her torso, palms outstretched across the fabric of her dress, stroking the full cushions of
her breasts, then the sides of her ribcage, and eventually reaching behind her back to locate
the zip on her dress.
Their kiss broke apart as he got a firm grip on the zip’s pull tab and braced his hands
against her back. Marcie stared up at Ben, breathing heavily, her sparkling deep brown eyes
wide beneath her glasses, her cheeks flushed, holding his own stare as he paused. Seeming
to read the uncertain hesitancy in his mind, she raised her chin a fraction as if beckoning
him closer, and whispered, “It’s okay. You can go on.”
Moving his hands slowly to be as quiet as he could, though for no explicable reason, he
pulled the zip down, then tugged at Marcie’s dress, dragging the fabric down as she quickly
wriggled her arms out of the sleeves, unbuttoning the cuffs to get them over her bangles.
The loose cloth ended up bunched around her waist, below the edge of the shawl. And
through that white shawl’s open weave, Ben could clearly see the peachy satin band of
Marcie’s bra, depressing the soft skin of her breasts where it fitted against her a little too
tightly. Without hesitating, Ben found the unseen edge of its fastening, somewhere near her
spine, and gripped it firmly to undo its hooks.
Marcie seemed to give a quiet sigh of relief as he did this, smiling up at him with
encouragement as he gently pulled the satin band away, still trying to do all this as subtly
as he could. He could see her breasts under the shawl now, in the shadowy light of the
room’s lamps and the forgotten flickering images on the television screen. As ever, he was
struck by their full femininity, by their alluringly deep and wide curves, now marked by the
impression of her tight bra, and by the fascinating textured detail of her stretched oval
areolae. Ben thought these seemed an even darker pink as he spied them under the shawl,
their hue contrasting dramatically with the white threads of lacey crochet that were
preserving some of Marcie’s modesty. Moving one hand reverentially around her chest
whilst remaining braced against the other, Ben brushed his finger across her skin beneath
the shawl, touching the soft warmth of her breast, then toying her softly proud nipple with
his fingertips.
She gave a long luxuriant sigh as he did this, then seemed to beckon him with her parted
lips once again. As he brought his mouth to hers, his hand still stretched across her breast,
he heard Geoff’s slightly befuddled voice behind him. He was obviously speaking just to
Sofie as he asked, “Are Ben and Marcie getting it on too?”
By this Ben guessed his friend was deliberately keeping himself turned away from the
potentially embarrassing scene of his friends in intimate congress, just as he was. Sofie’s
reply was more ambiguous, as she said, “I think they are.”
“That’s okay then,” Geoff answered with satisfied conviction, continuing with a slightly
slurred tone, “We can carry on then, if you want to, sweetie pie?”
“Yes! I’m ready. I want you, my honey bear,” Sofie replied with might have been a seductive
whisper, yet the words still carried clearly. Ben guessed by this exchange that his friends
may be getting ready to move on to the final act of their affectionate intimacy. It seemed
likely to him that they were about to have full-on sex in his and Marcie’s company, so close
that the four of them could almost touch each other. Ben felt as if things had been moving
towards this moment for a while, but now that it was here, he wondered what it meant for
him and Marcie.
They had stopped kissing, but they still held each other close, Ben’s bare chest pressed
against Marcie’s, touching the soft warmth of her breasts through the shawl’s open lacey
weave. Both of them were breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes, listening
as they heard an undercurrent of subtle noises beneath the film’s rolling dialogue. He
recognised the unwatched scene that was playing out by the characters’ familiar lines
about agents and oracles, but he knew those subtle noises coming from his friends on the
sofa behind him too. There were the heavy male groans from Geoff, as well as the panted
gasps in a higher register from Sofie, and also some soft rhythmic plashes, wet slaps and
squelching slurps, which must have had their origins at the very centre of the action, in
Sofie’s vagina.
He realised he didn’t need to think too hard about what was going on behind him, nor how
that meant that in some sense all four of them were suddenly becoming a lot closer right
now. Instead he once again recognised that he could just set his worries aside and listen
inwardly to his own instinctual impulses. Despite the slight fug of the alcohol, he was
sharply aware of his own thrilling arousal, and he was eager to share that pleasure with
Marcie. As he lowered his lips to her face once more, delicately kissing her warm forehead,
her thick eyebrows at the edge of her glasses, her dappled cheeks, her proud nose and chin,
and her delicate ear in its nest of fly-away hair, he slipped his hand under the skirts of her
dress. With his fingers outstretched, he ran his palm over her knee and across the inner line
of her thigh’s smooth skin. He felt her muscles tense as Marcie wriggled to part her legs
beneath him while he quested ever higher, until his fingertips brushed the hairs that
covered the humid warmth of her vulva.
In excited surprise, he paused the kisses that he was softly planting along her jawline
behind her ear. Then Marcie whispered in his ear over the rhythmic sounds of movement
that were now becoming louder behind him, “I took them off earlier, in the loo.”
Ben felt his heart beat a little faster as he realised Marcie’s enthusiasm for his sensual
contact, inhaling her perfume’s earthy and woody fragrance deeply as he put his mouth to
hers once again. Then, as her mouth slowly softened and they set to passionately exploring
each other’s lips and tongues once more, he began gently massaging the long plump
cushions of her outer labia.
She sighed as he stroked her, her warm breath filling his mouth, though her voice was
much quieter than the increasing urgent panting and vocalisations that were coming from
their friends. Ben concentrated on Marcie though, feeling his own arousal steady and firm
as she cradled his head and jaw in her hands. As his mouth slowly worked towards a
deeper and hungrier kiss, his fingers steadily stroked and kneaded her vulva.
Ben had been aware almost as soon as he’d touched her that Marcie’s vagina was already
oozing its own delicious lubrication. The crease between her furry labia was wet, and Ben
thought he could feel beads of moisture on her stiff pubic hairs. As he brushed his middle
finger over what he guessed to be the mouth of her vagina, tentatively exploring the
creases of her inner labia as he caressed her, he found a rich well of slippery warmth there.
Before he knew it, he had two fingers hooked deep inside Marcie’s vagina, and he was
urgently stroking her, striving to stimulate her g-spot while his hand cupped her whole
vulva between her parted thighs, his thumb vigorously massaging the area around her
clitoris.
Marcie was panting with small quick breaths now, their kiss forgotten as Ben’s lips
brushed the skin of her cheeks and chin around her wide open mouth. He felt the warmth
of her exhalations tickling across his skin like the brushes of soft feathers, but he became
aware that his hand’s rhythm was actually being set by the rhythm of the bumping
furniture and increasingly loud gasps and cries that were coming from behind him. These
obviously reached their natural conclusion as Ben suddenly heard a heavy and heartfelt
grunt that was almost a bellow coming from Geoff, which was instantly met with a high cry
of almost desperate longing in Sofie’s voice. Both sounds were repeated with a steadily
descending tempo, each breath and groan from Geoff seeming to lengthen and deepen in
his exhausted relief, whilst Sofie’s high cries of wild incoherent enthusiasm seemed to
soften and become drawn out into delicious ecstasy.
Ben’s hand was still massaging Marcie’s vulva, with his fingers slipping back and forth
deep within her warm and muscular vagina, whilst her chest heaved with heavily panted
breaths, but now their eyes met and she whispered, “It’s okay, you can ease off now. I can
take over, and we can drop the pace. It’s not so urgent. We were never going to keep up,”
she finished with a tiny giggle.
Ben gently withdrew his hand and let Marcie shuffle around, whilst he thrust his legs out
again. They ended up with Marcie slumped down on the sofa, her feet on the floor and her
knees wide, her hands tucked casually under the folds of her dress’s skirts, seemingly in
gentle motion. Her eyes seemed to wander from Ben to the film that was still rolling on,
playing out the dramatic scene of the gunboat helicopter hanging outside the skyscraper
now. Ben himself had one arm around Marcie’s shoulder, resting with his hip against hers
as he turned towards her. He was acutely aware of the urgent pressure in his swollen penis,
but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. He settled on just undoing his belt and
unbuttoning the flies on his jeans to relieve some of the uncomfortable tension, then he
slipped his hand under Marcie’s shawl once more to hold her breast in his fingers. With
them still damp from her most intimately feminine place, his fingertips were slippery
against her raised nipple.
He enjoyed the sensation of her soft warm breast cupped in his hand as he teased her
thickly erect nipple between his finger and thumb. She sighed as her hands kept fidgeting
away in her lap, then Ben leaned down over her to once again plant small delicate kisses
across her face. Breathing in deeply and slowly through his nose, he smelt again the
fragrance of her perfume, as well as her shampoo and her soapy skin. But now he was
aware of a deeper musky smell too, and thought of her vaginal juices on his fingertips, as
well as hers too now he guessed as she steadily masturbated herself beneath him.
Then he had a slightly queasy thought that the powerful aroma of feminine arousal might
not just be coming from Marcie’s vulva, but from Sofie’s too. Again, he felt a confused
uncertainty in his mind about that, about whether he should feel embarrassed for Sofie, or
guilty of Geoff’s potential jealousy, or ashamed of his own awareness. Yet he knew his
body’s reaction was clear and unambiguous. The intimate musk and the thought that it may
be arising from two women at once was giving his arousal a powerful extra surge. His
erection was woodenly rigid under his boxer shorts, and it felt as if even the slightest
brushing touch against it would give sufficient stimulation to release his pent-up orgasm.
He knew he could do nothing about that now though, so he held Marcie tight, pulling her to
him with his arm around her shoulder even as his other hand gripped her breast, and he
buried his face into her hair, forcing himself to breathe deeply and slowly. Suddenly he
heard her exclaim in a whisper, “Qaddisa Marija, that’s it!” and then she jerked
convulsively in his arms, making quick gasps and tiny high-pitched moans as she obviously
struggled to keep as quiet as possible. She’d frozen into a rigid tension at the moment of
her surprisingly subtle orgasm, but then she seemed to melt into a relaxed pool of jelly in
Ben’s arms, as if all the pressure and stress that had been building with her had been
suddenly flushed from her whole body.
Still holding her, though not quite as tightly, he tenderly kissed her forehead, her cheek and
her ear once again, before whispering as quietly as he could, “Nice work, my witchy queen,
my goddess, my fiancé! I love you Marcie. We are blessed.”
Marcie quickly whipped one hand out from under her dress, then slipped it immediately
under her shawl, clamping it over Ben’s hand at her breast and twining her warm wet
fingers with his. She twisted her head towards him to smear a carelessly placed kiss against
the edge of his lips before whispering to him, “Thank you, my mighty lion! We’re good,
aren’t we, with good friends.”
Ben heard this as a statement rather than a question, and felt he didn’t need to respond. He
was still a little wary of speaking aloud in their normal way, cautious of wandering into
their rambling playful mythic pillow-talk nonsense in front of Geoff and Sofie. Yet he was
very gratified when he felt Marcie’s hand release his and wander off across his torso,
fumbling over his ribs and flat stomach before finally reaching beneath his bellybutton to
push its way under the waistband of his boxer shorts. Her fingertips roughly brushed the
weeping head of his heavily engorged penis, then she traced her fingers down its thick hard
length to grasp him firmly near its base.
Ben sighed, louder than he’d meant to, but all seemed quiet from the direction of Geoff and
Sofie now. He felt a powerful feeling of carnal gratification in Marcie’s grip, as if his
enduring arousal now had a purpose through her physical contact. Yet he also felt a kind of
frustration at the awkward irritation of his own creased boxer shorts and heavy jeans as
they trapped and rubbed his sensitive penis. He had a visceral desire to take the rest of his
clothes off, to give himself a broader feeling of liberating sexual expression as well as to
free his tangled erection specifically, but a part of him was still inhibited by the close
presence of his friends.
Anxious thoughts about his immodest shame and their potential offence kept popping into
his mind, though these seemed absurd given how far they’d already come this evening.
They had all clearly reached a common understanding that there was nothing shameful in
honestly demonstrating their loving sexuality for their partners, and it followed that this
might include the exposure of his aroused manhood. They’d also agreed that it was just fine
for close trusted friends to witness the other couple’s intimate union, and that was
fundamentally what he’d like to move on to with Marcie right now. He was glad when
Marcie gave him the opportunity to cut through his dilemma by suggesting what clearly
seemed the obvious course of action to her, whispering, “Are you going to take them off to
get him out?”
“Aye, yes, let’s,” he whispered in eager assent. Then without hesitating, with Marcie’s
fingers still tangled in his pubic hair, he pulled his arms in and began to wriggle out of his
jeans and underwear, exposing his long stiff penis long before he managed to push his
tangled clothes over his ankles and feet. He sighed with contentment as he finally freed
himself and relaxed into a slumped reclining position on the sofa, shuffling alongside
Marcie so that he once again had one arm around her shoulder, whilst his free hand clasped
hers, now wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft. As he’d reclined with his back
against the sofa’s rough throw, she ended up lying on her side, pressing her body to his,
from her thighs and hips to her belly and shoulders. Her shawl and unzipped dress were in
some disarray, but despite her body still being relatively well covered, Ben was close
enough to clearly see the curves of her heavy breasts and the shadows of her stretched
areolae.
Even though Marcie was lying on one arm in this position, she’d now managed to get both
her hands to his groin. Yet Ben was a little surprised that she didn’t seem to be in any hurry
to masturbate him, instead just pushing one palm flat to his pelvis, wrapping her fingers
under his scrotum, while she gripped the very base of his shaft between her finger and
thumb, with Ben’s hand shadowing her position as it rested over hers. As Ben looked down
his own body, it seemed as if she were deliberately making his penis, his Roddie, stand up
as straight and tall as she possibly could. His turgid veins were clear as they snaked along
its bowed length, whilst his swollen glans, which had pushed itself out of his foreskin a
while back, was glossy in shades of vivid crimson and livid purple, smeared with the
natural lubrication that he had leaked.
As she held him, Marcie raised her voice over the background noise of the dramatic action
on the television, where lovers at the brink of death were in each other’s arms, to ask, “Est-
ce que c’est bon?”
Ben recognised her quick and clipped question as French, but though she spoke clearly, it
was still unintelligible to him. He realised it was not for his ears though, as Sofie’s voice
promptly answered, “C’est si bon. Tout va bien, ma chère copine.”
Sofie’s phrase triggered a memory of a wild dance track which seemed strangely
appropriate to Ben, and he thought of mentioning the artist’s name, BPM System, as it
popped into his head. Without thinking, he turned toward Sofie, but instantly felt a wave of
embarrassment that struck him dumb as he saw how his friends had ended up.
They were both naked, and Sofie was slumped down on their sofa on her back as he was,
but Geoff was lying across her, one leg stuck out and one tangled underneath him, as if he’d
collapsed across his lover to drift into an intoxicated slumber. He had his back to Ben,
revealing no more than his furry bare buttocks, with his torso covering Sofie’s chest and
breasts. His dozing head was resting in her shoulder, his heavy silvery chain hanging loose
around his neck, whilst her right arm was draped lazily across his long bare back. But with
Sofie’s legs in the position that they were, with one foot flat to the floor whilst the other
hung over the arm of sofa, Ben could not help but see the long crease of her almost hairless
vulva stretched wide between her parted thighs. Her flushed and tumid inner labia were
clear even from the briefest glance, their vividly pink fleshy folds parted to reveal a slimy
drool of milky fluid leaking from the mouth of her vagina. Sofie’s left hand was spread flat
against her inner thigh, and Ben could see that she’d stretched out her third finger, the very
one with her new engagement ring on, to press its tip against the point where her clitoris
must surely be.
He realised he’d not only caught her graphically exposed, but also in the act of
masturbating, perhaps quietly working towards an orgasm of her own that she’d failed to
achieve during the frantic coition which Ben had heard her share with Geoff. Though his
gaze had instinctively gone straight to this shockingly appealing sight, he instantly raised
his attention to Sofie’s own heavy-lidded eyes. It was then that he realised she was looking
directly at his upright penis, and he suddenly understood that Marcie had in some way
been deliberately showing him off to her friend, even as she was being kind and sensitive
towards his own sensual urges. He felt his embarrassment evaporate, recognising now that
he and Sofie, perhaps more so than Geoff and Marcie, were both thoroughly at ease with
their explicit exhibitionism. His anxious feelings were replaced by a sense of easy
relaxation and a surprising feeling of pride, though he was still unsure of the meaning of
what had passed between the two women in their rapid exchange.
His uncertainty was partly dispelled when Sofie raised her eyes to meet his, perhaps as she
became aware of his gaze. She raised her eyebrows in a lazy greeting as a broad smile
spread across her calm face, clearly unashamed of her own nudity and expressive pose, just
as Ben had guessed. Then Ben assumed she translated her last remark for his benefit as she
said gently, “All is good.”
Ben wasn’t sure if she was saying that she didn’t mind that he’d seen her masturbating, or
if she was commenting on his own display of his vigorous masculine arousal. Then he
thought her remark was more likely a general acceptance and approval for everything that
the two couples were sharing in their intimacy this evening, or an even wider expression of
her happiness. Perhaps she felt that they were all now moving forwards in their lives
together, as they prepared to turn their sympathetic and sincere love into lifelong bonds.
Or perhaps she’d meant something of all these, Ben thought, just as he did when he quietly
replied in a low voice, “Aye, it is.”
He turned back to Marcie, cuddling her body close to his, seeing once again the profound
femininity of her classical curves, as her warm skin tone with its scattered constellations of
dark spots seemed to smoulder in the low light. He buried his face in her soft hair, against
the line of her strong jaw beneath her intellectual glasses, then he filled his lungs with her
fragrant essence in a long, deep and easy breath. As he released this in a deeply contented
sigh, stretching out to the tips of his toes, he felt a delicious tingle of sensual pleasure run
right through the length of his body, all whilst Marcie still calmly held his rigidly solid penis
upright, letting him luxuriate in the eager anticipation of his own orgasm.
Nuzzling up to her ear, Ben whispered, “You know I’m close, but I could stop now, before I
make a mess, if you think it best. Or do you want to go further? If you let me enter you, we
could consummate our engagement, here and now.” He felt a fluttery anxiety about what he
was proposing, yet he was eagerly hopeful that Marcie would want to move on to what
seemed like the inevitable conclusion of their passionate act of primal organic affection. He
wanted to make love to her, to make that complete fulfilment of his most fundamental
desires by easing his penis into her vagina and achieving his orgasm deep within her once
again, and he felt as if Geoff and Sofie had given them permission to do just that by their
example. But he was not at all sure what Marcie would say.
She didn’t hesitate in her answer though as she whispered, tickling him with her hair as
she lifted her mouth to his ear, “Oh yes, Ben! I don’t want us to stop. I don’t want this to
end. I don’t want any of it to end! My wet arousal, my hungry ache to be filled by you,
glowing deep within my womb, crying out for my womanhood, my cwm, to take your
magically potent rod, to feel you come inside me again. But more than that, I want so much
for it all to carry on forever. I mean it’s our whole love, our new life together, our fused
beings, the mingled red blood of our beating hearts that fills our arousal when we touch.
It’s our wide open souls, interpenetrating the divinity of all life, bound together in that
primal fire and clear air now! I’d die without it. It can’t ever stop.”
“It won’t,” Ben reassured her quietly, humbled by her heartfelt and expressive passion,
even as she eased her hands away from his penis to quickly wriggle out of her tangled dress.
She left him to hold his rigidly upright member on his own whilst he explained, “You’re
wearing my ring now. That’s proof we’re in it for good. My heart, and my stiff little man,
they’re yours, to take wherever you go, to use whenever you want.”
“The ring is just the outward sign though,” Marcie said in her whisper as her smiling face
hung before his, pressing the warm bare skin of her thighs to his now, letting him feel the
ticklish hair of her bush against his hip too. She stroked his belly and touched his face with
her still greasy fingertips, filling Ben’s flared nostrils with her intoxicating fragrance, as her
bangles softly jingled together and she went on, “It how other people know I’m yours and
you’re mine. But you and I were already sure of that, weren’t we? Maybe even back when
we first came together, when we kissed on the sofa after I read aloud for you, or even
before that when we held hands in the hospital. But now we can make another outward
sign of our love for other people, for our kind friends, can’t we? They can see it happening,
honestly and with eyes wide open, not accidentally or furtively, like in the dunes or that
first time in the kitchen. It would be a consummation, you’re right, a rite of passage as we
make our commitment public. That means I’m serious when I say I want you to carry on. I
really do want us to go all the way, right now. So let’s do it, let’s fuck in front of our friends!
Let them see how we are two become one. They can testify that our love is real then, that it
will go on and on, with each easy breath, complete and fulfilled. We won’t stop now, we’ll
fuck right here, and we’ll go on fucking and loving and breathing until we die in each
other’s arms, far far away in our unknown future!”
“That’s the truth,” Ben agreed in eager anticipation, even as Marcie began rising onto her
knees above him - ready to mount him, ready to be penetrated once again, ready to make
love. He inhaled calmly before admitting, “I love you Marcie. We won’t stop. I’ll keep
breathing, for you.”
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