bedclothes.’
Turning her back on him, she pulled her jumper over her head. She looked around: the only place to put it was the chair next to the bed, and she’d used that for the candle.
‘Here, I’ll take the candle.’ He held out his hand. She handed him the saucer and he lowered it to the floor on his side of the bed. The light flickered and dimmed as the flame guttered in a draught, casting the room in shadows that hung between them, as thick, heavy and apparently tangible as black lace curtains.
‘I’ll turn my back if you like.’
‘Thank you.’ She slipped her blouse buttons from their loops. Sick with fear and apprehension she undressed quickly, removing her skirt, blouse, stockings and bust shaper, but leaving her long petticoat and bloomers. She pulled back the bedclothes and slid beneath the sheets; they were icy, clammy and cold to the touch. She lay there trembling, facing the door as she listened to Tony moving around the room behind her. She started at the loud thud of his shoes as he threw them on to the bare boards. There was a click as he unbuttoned his braces. A soft hiss of linen whispered in the air as he removed his shirt, escalating the tense atmosphere. The ring of metal hitting metal told her he was unfastening the buckle on his trouser belt. A sudden weight depressed the mattress behind her as he sat on the bed.
‘You really are cold.’ He laid his hand on her back as he crawled in beside her. Gripping her shoulders he pulled her close until the front of his thighs nestled against the back of hers. She steeled herself to accept the touch of his body, long, lean and hard muscled against hers, while fighting a sour tide of nausea that threatened to rise from the pit of her stomach as he stretched his naked legs over hers.
‘You all right, Diana?’
She nodded, unable to answer him.
‘I love you.’ He turned her gently, rolling her over until she faced him. The warmth of his hands flamed through the thin silk of her petticoat, searing, scorching and repugnant. She closed her eyes tightly as he kissed her hair, her cheeks, her lips, gritting her teeth and tensing herself as he embraced her entire body with his own.
She stretched out her hands and gripped the sides of the bed as he slipped the straps of her petticoat from her shoulders. He undressed her slowly, carefully, kissing and fondling each breast in turn as he uncovered them. She concentrated every fibre of her being in an attempt to close out what he was doing to her, but awareness came, harsh and unwelcome as his passion heightened and all pretence of tenderness fled.
Lost in consuming, uncontrollable desire, Diana, the person with her own capacity for pain and pleasure was forgotten, as lust propelled Tony single-mindedly towards his own climax. His indifference was neither deliberate nor calculated, but Diana was conscious of it. It was as though she’d been transformed into a vessel whose sole purpose was the gratification of his pleasure; and when he’d finally done with her, she leaned over, pulled the chamber-pot from beneath the bed and was quietly and thoroughly sick.
Shame- and guilt-ridden, he sat alongside her, cradling her forehead in his hands. ‘Diana, I’m sorry. So terribly, dreadfully sorry. Did I hurt you?’
‘No. It’s not anything you did. It’s me.’ Pulling the topmost blanket from the bed she wrapped it around her shoulders. Sitting hunched, on the edge of the bed, she buried her face in the folds of cloth that covered her knees.
‘It’s not you …’ he faltered. ‘Everyone says the first time is difficult for a woman. I shouldn’t have rushed you … I should have –’
‘It’s not my first time,’ she confessed starkly. The words were finally out in the open between them. Relief washed over her. She’d said it. She’d finally said it! Tony knew. She didn’t have to conceal her secret from him any longer.
‘Not the first? I don’t understand. Who …’
She heard
Turning her back on him, she pulled her jumper over her head. She looked around: the only place to put it was the chair next to the bed, and she’d used that for the candle.
‘Here, I’ll take the candle.’ He held out his hand. She handed him the saucer and he lowered it to the floor on his side of the bed. The light flickered and dimmed as the flame guttered in a draught, casting the room in shadows that hung between them, as thick, heavy and apparently tangible as black lace curtains.
‘I’ll turn my back if you like.’
‘Thank you.’ She slipped her blouse buttons from their loops. Sick with fear and apprehension she undressed quickly, removing her skirt, blouse, stockings and bust shaper, but leaving her long petticoat and bloomers. She pulled back the bedclothes and slid beneath the sheets; they were icy, clammy and cold to the touch. She lay there trembling, facing the door as she listened to Tony moving around the room behind her. She started at the loud thud of his shoes as he threw them on to the bare boards. There was a click as he unbuttoned his braces. A soft hiss of linen whispered in the air as he removed his shirt, escalating the tense atmosphere. The ring of metal hitting metal told her he was unfastening the buckle on his trouser belt. A sudden weight depressed the mattress behind her as he sat on the bed.
‘You really are cold.’ He laid his hand on her back as he crawled in beside her. Gripping her shoulders he pulled her close until the front of his thighs nestled against the back of hers. She steeled herself to accept the touch of his body, long, lean and hard muscled against hers, while fighting a sour tide of nausea that threatened to rise from the pit of her stomach as he stretched his naked legs over hers.
‘You all right, Diana?’
She nodded, unable to answer him.
‘I love you.’ He turned her gently, rolling her over until she faced him. The warmth of his hands flamed through the thin silk of her petticoat, searing, scorching and repugnant. She closed her eyes tightly as he kissed her hair, her cheeks, her lips, gritting her teeth and tensing herself as he embraced her entire body with his own.
She stretched out her hands and gripped the sides of the bed as he slipped the straps of her petticoat from her shoulders. He undressed her slowly, carefully, kissing and fondling each breast in turn as he uncovered them. She concentrated every fibre of her being in an attempt to close out what he was doing to her, but awareness came, harsh and unwelcome as his passion heightened and all pretence of tenderness fled.
Lost in consuming, uncontrollable desire, Diana, the person with her own capacity for pain and pleasure was forgotten, as lust propelled Tony single-mindedly towards his own climax. His indifference was neither deliberate nor calculated, but Diana was conscious of it. It was as though she’d been transformed into a vessel whose sole purpose was the gratification of his pleasure; and when he’d finally done with her, she leaned over, pulled the chamber-pot from beneath the bed and was quietly and thoroughly sick.
Shame- and guilt-ridden, he sat alongside her, cradling her forehead in his hands. ‘Diana, I’m sorry. So terribly, dreadfully sorry. Did I hurt you?’
‘No. It’s not anything you did. It’s me.’ Pulling the topmost blanket from the bed she wrapped it around her shoulders. Sitting hunched, on the edge of the bed, she buried her face in the folds of cloth that covered her knees.
‘It’s not you …’ he faltered. ‘Everyone says the first time is difficult for a woman. I shouldn’t have rushed you … I should have –’
‘It’s not my first time,’ she confessed starkly. The words were finally out in the open between them. Relief washed over her. She’d said it. She’d finally said it! Tony knew. She didn’t have to conceal her secret from him any longer.
‘Not the first? I don’t understand. Who …’
She heard
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