A Class Apart (10 page)

She waited, but it wasn’t a long wait. They started moving towards her, stopping before they reached her. She knew she would have to do something to encourage their final steps. She licked her lips, pouted then turned to face them with an enticing smile. It worked. They smiled back, and covered the rest of the distance.

“Hello,” said the tallest, and by far the better looking of the two.

“Hello.”

“On your own?”

She nodded.

“I’m Neil,” he said, “this is Sean.”

“Hello, Sean.”

They stood there, looking awkward. “Aren’t you going to tell us your name?” Neil asked, eventually.

“Mrs Green.”

“Is that what we have to call you?” he said, surprised.

“If you like.”

“Don’t you have another name?”

“Jane.”

“Mind if we join you?” Sean pulled up a stool and sat down beside her.

“I think you already have,” she laughed, and they laughed too.

They glanced at one another, grinning, trying to think of something else to say. “Tell me,” said Neil, “what’s a good-looking woman like you doing here all by herself?”

Jenneen smiled, and felt her age. Woman, eh? No longer a girl, but the lines never changed. She shrugged. “I was fed up sitting at home alone.”

“Do you live in Brighton?” Sean asked.

“Just outside. Do you?”

“Yes, we both do.”

“Do you work here?”

“College,” Neil answered.

“Oh.” She drained her glass.

“Can we get you another drink?” Neil offered.

“Mmm, please.”

He summoned the waiter and ordered three Scotches.

Sean suggested that they go and sit on one of the semicircular settees in the corner booths. Jenneen agreed.

Jenneen smoothed the silk of her dress along her thighs as she settled herself between Neil and Sean. There was another awkward silence while the boys tried to think of something else to say. Jenneen was enjoying herself.

“Do you often sit at home on your own then?” Neil asked.

“Ever since my husband left me.” The lies slipped out so easily.

“He must be mad!” Sean declared, looking at her legs.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to dance?” said Neil.

“I’d love to.”

Sean looked a little put out. Still, plenty of time, the night was young.

As she danced, Jenneen could feel Neil’s eyes on her, dropping occasionally to look at her breasts as they moved freely inside her dress. He looked up and seeing that she was watching him, blushed. She laughed aloud.

“What’s funny?” he shouted above the music.

“Nothing!”

He laughed too, turned to Sean and winked. Sean did not relish this communication – it looked like Neil was going to walk off with the girl, again.

Jenneen stayed on the dance floor with Neil for the following two dances, then as the music slowed, she left and went to sit down.

“Don’t like the slow ones?” Neil asked, flopping down beside her.

“Yes,” said Jenneen. “It’s just that I’d like to sit down for a while.”

They sat in silence, listening to the music, watching the dancers. They all laughed and applauded as the DJ announced the engagement of a shy and very youthful looking couple. He asked them which record they would like, and their choice was very romantic, one that Jenneen liked.

“Fancy another dance?” Neil said, taking her hand.

She allowed him to lead her onto the floor, and felt her blood begin to race as he took her in his arms. The look of hunger in his eyes, in deep contrast to the raw inexperience of his body, and the vulnerability of his youth, were like a magnet to her. Gently she moulded her body to his, and followed his inexpert swaying, sadly out of time to the music.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he whispered in her ear as he ran his hands over her back.

She didn’t answer, but smiled at the clumsiness of his approach. She pressed her body closer and felt him hardening against her. Then moving her hands inside his jacket, she stroked her fingers across his lower back. She heard him gasp, and was waiting for him as his mouth came round to find hers.

When the record was over, they went to sit down again. She was laughing. “French kissing on the dance floor!” she said. “It makes me feel young again.”

“But you’re not old,” Neil objected, casually draping his arm across the back of the seat.

“No, not very,” she admitted. The look on Sean’s face made her smile. “Would you like to dance?” she said to him.

He needed no second bidding, and eagerly led her back to the floor.

He danced rather well, better than Neil, and despite the ugliness of his blond crew cut, Jenneen decided that he wasn’t so bad after all. How was she to choose between them? Well, she wouldn’t worry about that. Maybe she’d let them decide.

The record came to an end and it looked as though Jenneen was going to leave the floor. Keeping hold of her hand Sean pulled her back as the next record began and she smiled and put her arms round him again.

“Can I take you home tonight?” he blurted out, and was immediately embarrassed when he saw that he had made her laugh.

“Maybe,” she said.

The evening wore on and the three of them talked, and danced, and drank. And the more they drank, the braver they all became. The boys were being outrageous, and openly suggestive.

Jenneen went to the ladies’ to retouch her make-up and found that it was far less smeared than she had thought it would be. As she was returning she saw that they were arguing about something, and thought she heard one of them mention something about money. She noticed that her glass had been refilled, and guessed that they must be coming to the bottoms of their pockets. She sat down and picked up her glass.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said, taking a sip.

Sean looked uncomfortable, and began to fiddle with his collar. Jenneen watched him, but when he didn’t say anything she turned back to watching the dance floor.

He studied her profile a moment, and then took a large gulp of his drink. “We were wondering, are you on the game?”

“Fuck me, Sean! That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?” Neil choked, but looked at Jenneen all the same, waiting to hear her answer.

She laughed. It was an understandable observation. Funny how Mrs Green could laugh at something like that. Jenneen Grey would be outraged.

“Why?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Sean. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Neil was watching her, looking her up and down, and he noticed that she had undone another button at the top of her dress. She saw him looking and leaned forward to pick up her drink. He swallowed. Jesus Christ, she was driving him crazy. As she sat back he slipped his arm across her shoulder, and pulled her face round to kiss her. She let him, but didn’t move her hands. Finally she pushed him away, and turned to look at Sean, who was studying the dance floor with self-conscious interest. She laughed, and taking Sean’s hand placed it over her breast. She waited for him to do something. Embarrassed, he began to scratch his head, but when she let his hand go he didn’t pull away. He could feel the nipple straining against the silk and reached up to put his arms round her neck. He opened his mouth wide, too wide, and she pushed her tongue against his, beginning a long and sensual kiss.

Neil had moved round, shielding them from the dance floor, and she felt his hand move along her thigh. Momentarily she tensed, but then she let her legs slip slightly apart. He went no further than the top of her stocking, so she wriggled in her seat towards his fingers. She heard him catch his breath as his fingers touched her, and found her naked. She groaned into Sean’s open mouth as Neil moved his fingers, and caught hold of her hand and pressed it to his groin.

She broke away, and looked from one to the other.

“So?” said Neil, grinning all over his face. “Which one of us is to be the lucky one?”

She smiled, and picked up her drink, sipping it slowly. She waited until she had finished, then put the empty glass back onto the table again.

“Well?” asked Sean, his voice thick.

She laughed, and tossed the hair away from her face. “How about both of you?”

They looked at each other first with amazement, and then excitement. Sean nodded first, then Neil broke into a grin. “Why not?” he shrugged. “I’m game.”

“Then I’ll get my coat,” she said, and stood up.

SEVEN

Bob eased himself quietly from the bed, not wanting to disturb Ellamarie who was still sleeping, and padded across the room. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes to three, still plenty of time before he had to be at the station.

Outside he could hear the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers coming from the King’s Road. He slipped into his robe and went out to the kitchen to make some coffee.

There had been no rehearsals this afternoon. They would rehearse again on Monday, the day before Christmas Eve, when they would break until 29 December. It was going well, though he could wish that Maureen Woodley was responding a little better. Maybe he should give her some extra time, alone. But how could he find the time himself? His production of
Don Giovanni
was going back to the Colisseum in February, and the Old Vic was practically pleading with him to do
Long Day’s Journey Into Night.
And to add to it all, a film offer had come his way which he badly wanted to do. It had been almost two years since he had directed a film; he had won a BAFTA for
Remember Sundays
?

As he set two cups on the work surface he noticed a wallet of photographs which Ellamarie must have left on the table. Waiting for the kettle to boil he picked them up and started to flick through them. His face was smiling as he looked at them. They had taken them just over two years ago now, when they had gone to Scotland for a long weekend together. A honeymoon was what they had called it, and a honeymoon was indeed what it had been. He would never forget how they had made love for the first time, on the side of a mountain in the early evening sun. He could still see her now, her pale skin against the backdrop of green grass and wild flowers, reaching out her arms to him and whispering for him to make love to her. He swallowed the lump that had formed at the back of his throat as he remembered wondering at the time if it was possible to go on loving someone so much; it was, in fact he loved her even more now. And here was a picture of Mr and Mrs Duff who ran the small hotel they had stayed in. How Ellamarie had made them laugh. He felt sad as he went through the photographs, knowing that it was her uncertainty about their relationship that had made her steal back into the past. Then he laughed as he came across the miserably out of focus ones that she had taken of him on horseback, riding through a glen, and . . .

Oh Christ! How could he have forgotten? He had to get to Scheiders this afternoon to pick up Linda’s new riding boots. And where was the list she had given him for things she wanted him to pick up from Harrods? He must have left it at the theatre. Hell, that meant he’d have to go back there. And he’d left her present there too. Damn it! He looked at his watch again. He’d never have time to do it all, it would just have to wait until tomorrow. His mother would have to stay the night in the mews house with him here in London. He wouldn’t tell Ellamarie that, of course. He sighed. Life would be so much easier if he could just stay here in London, with Ellamarie. He was going to miss her over Christmas, but there was no use thinking about it, he had to go home and that was that.

The kettle switched itself off, and he spooned the instant coffee into two mugs.

“Out of milk, I’m afraid.” He jumped, and looked up to see Ellamarie watching him from the doorway.

“Then we’ll have black,” he said, but he didn’t tum back to the coffee, instead he continued to look at her. Her face was still flushed from sleep, her mane of hair in chaos about her shoulders. She hadn’t bothered to cover herself, and standing there in her pale nudity, he was entranced by her lack of self-consciousness.

She gave him a knowing smile and walked across to him, winding her arms about his neck. He ran his hands over her skin as he kissed her on the mouth, reacting to the sensation of her nudity against his robed body. She turned in his arms to present herself to him, and he could feel the desire rising in him once again. She murmured softly as he cupped her breasts in his hands and stooped to kiss them. As his mouth became more urgent, she gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his skin. Reluctantly, he moved away. Tomorrow he was returning to his wife, and he was afraid that in the throes of passion Ellamarie might mark him.

He kissed her lightly on the end of her nose. “You’re insatiable,” he whispered.

“I know,” she grinned, and slipped her hand inside his robe. Feeling her take him between her fingers and move gently back and forth, he leaned back, unable now to stem the rising tide. She was smiling, looking into his face and watching the changing expressions. He reached out for her, but she pushed his hands away, and opened his robe. He did nothing to stop her and allowed his robe to fail to the floor. She kissed his neck, his shoulders, and wound her fingers through the thatch of hair on his chest. His breathing became heavier as she stooped to follow her hands with her mouth.