The Sister(148)

She gave him her address.





That night, just after dark, he’d turned up with a bottle of wine. She had a lot to say, to tell him about. He listened patiently for half an hour or so; he felt he owed her at least that. She finished her second glass; he reached over with the bottle to refill it. She put her hand out covering the glass. He put the bottle down.

‘I'd better not. If I get tipsy, I sometimes do things I regret later.’ She stared at the floor, suddenly overtaken by shyness. He took the initiative. Holding both her hands, he pulled her up.

She lifted from the chair without resistance. He looked into her face and eyes. She smiled. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. They kissed, and a passion exploded right out of her, taking him by surprise; dropping to his knees, he lifted her top to reveal her midriff. He licked and sucked at her belly, French kissing her navel. She went wild.

Both of them were on the floor; her skirt hitched up over her thighs.

He eased his head between her knees and ripped her white panties to one side.

‘No! No one’s ever done that, it’s not allowed!’ His tongue alternated up and down each thigh, getting closer to her with each stroke. She arched her back and pulled his head in tighter, clamping her thighs around his ears. She came in a frenzy of denials.

He pulled himself up next to her. She looked at him in wonderment.

‘No one has ever done that to me before.’ She sighed, trying to regain her breath.

He moved his body higher up against her, pulling down on her shoulders so her head was close to his abdomen and began to move her head down, while pushing his hips up.

‘What are you doing? Oh, no, I’m not doing that. I’ve never done that to a man before and you can’t...’

He pushed himself against her lips; she turned her face left, then right to get away, her lips pressed tight and then suddenly her lips parted and she was on him like a pro.

We never even made it into bed. He smiled at the memory and wondered if she ever met anyone else after that. If he’d awakened a hunger in her. If she were still haughty and aloof around men. Thinking about her had made him a little hard.

The woman from across the aisle now occupied the seat in front of him. She was staring at him, apparently fascinated by the fact he was staring right through her. She made a windscreen wiper gesture with one hand across his line of vision a bemused half smile on her lips. ‘Would you like a picture?’

‘What?’ He squirmed, moving into an upright position. ‘Oh, sorry. I do that sometimes, slip into a daydream and, well, I’m sorry.’ He flashed a quick embarrassed grin. Her expression remained strangely curious. Miller returned to looking out at the countryside rushing by and thought about the last time he’d almost got into trouble for staring.

Her voice was silky and calm, intruding on him gently. ‘Excuse me. A penny for your thoughts?’

Miller turned from the window and regarded her properly.

She had large pale blue eyes, a slight snub nose, her face was both angelic and impish, her poise demure and sophisticated. The expensive boyish bob-cut of her black hair was the only boyish thing about her. The closer he looked, the more her beauty unfolded for him. Surreal, like the sun on a flower that lifts its bowed head toward the light. The words he’d written for Josie a lifetime ago sprang to mind. Uncomfortable that he should be reminded, he turned away. ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’

She shuffled over on her seat, so she sat directly opposite, leaning forward, she said quietly, ‘Come on; help break up this boring journey for me! I don’t usually speak to strangers, but you seem okay.’ Her hands pressed together, pointing at him as if she were about to pray. ‘So – here I am, speaking to a stranger!’ She rolled her eyes and, raising her eyebrows, gave a little shrug of the shoulders before allowing her hands to drop into her lap. She waited for his reaction. Miller felt the hook of her velvet claws as she pulled him in. He shrugged at her and looked across the aisle at a young couple wearing headphones. The girl slept; the man with her stared blankly out of the window.

‘Do you do this trip often?’

‘No, this is my first time.’

‘Oh, really?’ She arched an eyebrow.

‘Yes, it is. Really,’ he said, of two minds whether to excuse himself, and just going back to staring out through the window, tripping out on daydreams. The truth was; she’d already turned a key in him and suddenly he became wary of getting to know her any better.

‘Given the choice, I'd rather drive,’ he said.

‘Well, you don’t know what you’ve been missing.’ She smiled. ‘You can meet some very interesting people on trains.’

‘Usually.’ He grinned. ‘I only ever meet nutcases.’

‘Oh? I never have. I suppose I’ve always been lucky,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you do for a living?’

‘Let’s talk about something other than work.’

She arched an eyebrow in his direction. ‘We don’t know each other well enough to talk about anything other than work.’

A childhood memory sprang to mind. Miller decided to tell it. ‘My grandfather used to tell me about a bear he knew from the war.’

‘He knew a bear?’ She scoffed, an eyebrow arched high.

‘Yes, he did – in the Second World War, Voytek his name was.’