Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [82]
The ideal spot turned up about half a mile away where part-way along a cul-de-sac, they found a right-hand spur which had been blocked off to through traffic. At most there would be an infrequent passer-by; the alley was a poor shortcut to anywhere apart from accesing the alley behind the terraced houses.
He glanced across at her as they drove. The skirt she was wearing finished a couple of inches above her knees, further up now that she was sitting. Her legs were otherwise bare and catching a glimpse of the soft skin between her thighs was enough to keep him hard. She could always turn him on in a way his frigid wife Janice never had.
‘How’s your head?’ he asked.
Her expression softened. She always appreciated his concern. ‘It only feels bruised if I touch it.’
‘You know you should press charges.’ He knew she wouldn’t, but said it anyway. Her boyfriend, Toby, had slapped her around several times before, and he was sure that Mel was already acclimatized to the routine of receiving aggression and offering forgiveness. He’d noticed how some women seemed to have a thirst for abuse. One day Toby would be ready to move on, and it would be typical if Mel then went on to another violent relationship. In the meantime, the issue of his marriage wasn’t going to be a problem, so long as she had a psycho boyfriend to keep secrets from.
‘If I tried to leave him, he’d come after me.’
‘Not if he was under arrest.’
‘He’d come after you if he knew about you.’
From the corner of his eye, he could see that she was studying his face and it made him feel as though he was being tested. He kept his voice level. ‘And how would he get to know? That sounds like a threat, Mel.’
Nothing else was said until he’d finished parking. Then he looked over and saw that she was fighting back tears. ‘All I was going to tell you was that Toby’s been hanging around at lunchtimes, and that he’s getting suspicious, but your first assumption is that I’m trying to pressurize you. What sort of person do you think I am?’
The evening was morphing into aggravation, so he tried to sound soothing. ‘Hey,’ he whispered, ‘you know I didn’t mean to upset you. We’re getting very intense, and I thought you were forgetting what we’d agreed.’ Her tears didn’t recede or increase; they merely sat on hold. ‘Sometimes I want to just blurt it out to Jan, but I know I mustn’t.’
She bit on her bottom lip and said nothing.
‘We both agreed on it, didn’t we?’ he continued.
She nodded, and he leant forward to kiss her. His timing was obviously right; her lips insantly parted and, after the first tentative moments, he felt her hand cup his upper arm and her thumb gently rub his bicep. He pulled away first, just far enough that there was nowhere else for her to look but into his eyes.
‘That’s still OK with you, isn’t it? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with this.’
She leant forward to kiss him then. It was funny how setting such limits on their relationship invariably seemed to produce results. He guessed it might be one of those contrary truths: tell a needy woman what she can’t have, and that’s what she’ll instantly chase.
He pulled her closer and slipped his tongue between her lips. He found the waistband of her skirt and from there slid his hand up and down her spine, marvelling at the tautness of her soft skin. Her back arched as if to let him know that her breasts were available to him, but instead of undoing her bra he traced his middle finger over the sheer fabric, around her body until he was stroking her right nipple.
Her tongue then dipped into his mouth with more urgency and this time, when he pressed her hand against his trousers, she didn’t pull away. He encouraged her fingers to find the zip. Her hands were small but dextrous and, as ever, it took only seconds before she had him in the firm grasp of her