‘Sorry.’
‘It’ll dry.’
She drew away and, once more, her face came into focus. Mango lips, damp now with gleaming wine, huge violet-shadowed eyes, the lashes so thickly mascara’d they stuck out like tiny thorns. Her wonderful marmalade hair had been pinned up carelessly and several frondy, twisting curls escaped. She sat facing him, cross-legged, swallowing deeply and with languid relish.
Brian, bemooned, gazed back. He strove to come up with an innocuous remark, one that would neutralise the conversation and steer it firmly into strictly platonic channels. The only one that occurred (and recurred) was hopelessly inappropriate and much more likely to inflame than douse the situation. Tension clicking in his mind like a turnstile he delivered it anyway.
‘I’d have thought someone like you would have a boyfriend to come round and hear your lines.’
‘Him?’ Edie jeered. Brian felt a stab of disappointment that he had been proved right, tempered by a certain satisfaction at the scorn in her voice. ‘He’s useless.’
‘In what way?’
‘Every sodding way. He’s the original non-fattening centre. Know what I mean?’
Brian stared, uncomprehending. He was beginning to feel slightly zonked, what with the Thunderbirds, a surfeit of body warmth and the rampant excitement in his underwear. Certainly his brain must be addled because, for the life of him, he could not spot any causal link between an unsatisfactory suitor and a box of Maltesers. Unless she meant he never brought her any.
‘I bet your wife don’t have no problems in that department.’
Edie winked, but Brian missed it for his glance, having roamed across the curve of her belly and climbed that unbearably sexy ladder, had now come to rest on the thin, wraparound top, the damp sections of which were clinging very closely indeed.
‘That can’t be very comfortable.’ He spoke through stiff lips and, although nothing in her expression changed, he knew that some invisible barrier had been crossed. That he would no longer be able to get up and walk away. Even so he was completely unprepared for the speed of the next development.
‘You’re right,’ murmured Edie. ‘I’ll catch me death.’
Without taking her eyes off his face she pulled at the securing ties behind her back. The garment fell apart, revealing beautiful, blue veined, pearly-white breasts with raspberry tips. Brian stared, dumbstruck with exhilaration and fear. Then she leaned forward, uncoiled a tongue like a humming bird’s and slid it into his ear.
Brian panted and groaned. He felt so dizzy he thought he might lose consciousness.
‘Touch me Bri . . . come on . . . quick . . .’
‘Ohhh . . . Edie . . .’
‘Give us your hand . . .’
‘They’re so beautiful.’
‘Harder . . . between your fingertips . . . rub . . .’
‘I’ve dreamed of this.’
‘Yeah. Me an all.’
‘I picture you, Edie, every time I’m having it.’
‘Naughty.’
‘Makes me . . . you know . . .’
‘He’s all wired up - arncha, Brian?’
‘Yes,’ cried Brian, not knowing what it meant but knowing that he was.
‘Fancy moving down a bit?’
‘Mmm.’
‘I saw you. Looking at my legs.’
‘Such pretty legs.’
‘Want to climb my little ladder, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes . . .’
‘Go on then.’
‘Eeny, meeny, miny . . .’
‘You’re ever so good with your hands, aren’t you, Brian?’
‘No complaints so far.’
‘Shelves and that.’
‘Nnnnggghhh!’
‘Got to Mo have you?’
‘Ohh Edie.’ Suddenly her tights were round her ankles and her fingers were tugging at his shirt. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking this off. Fair’s fair.’
‘I’m . . . a bit thin. Never had time to work out.’
‘Not thin down here though, are you, Brian?’
‘Yipes!’
‘Not thin where it matters.’
‘That hurt, actually.’
‘Now your jeans.’
‘Are you sure the door’s—’
‘Can’t screw with your jeans on.’ Edie canted up her skirt, then reached out and tickled his beard.
‘Don’t do that.’
‘What are all them bumps?’
‘Could we have the light off?’
‘More fun with it on.’
‘Nuff said.’
‘I don’t half want it, Brian.’
‘Um . . . I’ve never been—I’ve never done—’
‘Well, now’s the time to start. That’s it. Oooh - lovely. Off you go then.’