came and stood beside him.
‘Isn’t that just marvellous?’ She placed her arm around him.
‘Darling, you can see why I wanted to come here now?’
He gave her a squeeze as she added: ‘Thanks for putting up with the journey.’
He smiled and kissed the side of her head. ‘I’ve always been fascinated by ancient Rome. We can visit Pompeii from here. You know about Pompeii, don’t you?’
She scolded him.
‘Do you think we girls don’t get the same lessons as you boys? Do you think we get just cookery and Jane Austen?’
‘Sorry.’
She took his hand and led him back into the coolness of the room. There was no question about what she intended as she sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes.
‘Well, husband, to your duty.’
Biff still couldn’t get over her lack of shyness. Even on their second attempt at being married he had been fumbling all over the place until Rosemary had taken positive action and guided him into her – digging her nails into his back as she winced, just the once.
It was only now that he was beginning to realize that an educated, horse-loving woman of the thirties was not like the girls he had dreamed about.
So he ran his hand boldly up her leg and under her skirt to the top of her stocking, and on over her smooth skin and suspender.
Rosemary suddenly reached up and pulled him down on to her.
Clothes went in all directions and he barely made it before he was fusing with her body in a violent, energetic thrusting that had her hanging on to him with her legs as if she was out with the hounds.
When at last he rolled off her she was up in a flash, kissing him and ruffling his hair, and giggling like a schoolgirl as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes, trailing them on the floor, and disappeared into the bathroom.
He heard the shower running as she hummed a tune.
Biff Banks felt as if he’d been biffed.
He lay looking up at the ceiling, at the pattern of light dappling the cornices. What a wonderful thing marriage was, and how lucky he was. Rosemary was beautiful, talented and incredibly sensuous. What more could a man ask for? The sound of the shower ceased.
She came back into the room with only a white towel wrapped around her, shaking her hair free from the cap she had been wearing.
‘God, that was terrific. It’s so hot.’
With that she went out on to the terrace. Biff, dressed only in his striped dressing-gown, took his cigarettes out to the table. Rosemary was leaning over the balustrade looking out across the bay.
He frowned. ‘Darling – you’re not dressed,’ he warned.
She turned. Laughed.
‘You’re such a fuddy duddy.’
With that she let the towel fall, and popped into the chair beside him, took one of his cigarettes and crossed her legs.
‘Light me up, please, darling.’
Biff’s jaw dropped.
‘My God, woman.’
He looked wildly around, but realized with relief that where they were, it would be difficult for her to be seen. He looked back at her again, at her small breasts dazzling in the bright light, at the golden freckles that wound down her arms and legs and at her painted toes. It was both erotic and surreal, as if one of the ornamental figures had come alive. She giggled and prompted:
‘The light, darling?’
He flicked open his lighter top and at the second attempt applied the flame to the end of the cigarette. She took a long pull, sat back and breathed out smoke, making rings.
He shook his head in disbelief.
‘Where, oh where, did you learn to do that?’
She put her other arm across her chest to hold the elbow of the arm with the cigarette, pushing up her breasts.
‘Where else? School.’
He shook his head.
‘What am I going to do with you?’
He knew as soon as he said it that was a mistake.
She looked back at him from under her half-closed, long eyelashes.
‘I hope you’ll think of something.’
So he did. But she had to wait until that night.
Everybody seemed to be looking at him.
Then he realized
‘Isn’t that just marvellous?’ She placed her arm around him.
‘Darling, you can see why I wanted to come here now?’
He gave her a squeeze as she added: ‘Thanks for putting up with the journey.’
He smiled and kissed the side of her head. ‘I’ve always been fascinated by ancient Rome. We can visit Pompeii from here. You know about Pompeii, don’t you?’
She scolded him.
‘Do you think we girls don’t get the same lessons as you boys? Do you think we get just cookery and Jane Austen?’
‘Sorry.’
She took his hand and led him back into the coolness of the room. There was no question about what she intended as she sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes.
‘Well, husband, to your duty.’
Biff still couldn’t get over her lack of shyness. Even on their second attempt at being married he had been fumbling all over the place until Rosemary had taken positive action and guided him into her – digging her nails into his back as she winced, just the once.
It was only now that he was beginning to realize that an educated, horse-loving woman of the thirties was not like the girls he had dreamed about.
So he ran his hand boldly up her leg and under her skirt to the top of her stocking, and on over her smooth skin and suspender.
Rosemary suddenly reached up and pulled him down on to her.
Clothes went in all directions and he barely made it before he was fusing with her body in a violent, energetic thrusting that had her hanging on to him with her legs as if she was out with the hounds.
When at last he rolled off her she was up in a flash, kissing him and ruffling his hair, and giggling like a schoolgirl as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes, trailing them on the floor, and disappeared into the bathroom.
He heard the shower running as she hummed a tune.
Biff Banks felt as if he’d been biffed.
He lay looking up at the ceiling, at the pattern of light dappling the cornices. What a wonderful thing marriage was, and how lucky he was. Rosemary was beautiful, talented and incredibly sensuous. What more could a man ask for? The sound of the shower ceased.
She came back into the room with only a white towel wrapped around her, shaking her hair free from the cap she had been wearing.
‘God, that was terrific. It’s so hot.’
With that she went out on to the terrace. Biff, dressed only in his striped dressing-gown, took his cigarettes out to the table. Rosemary was leaning over the balustrade looking out across the bay.
He frowned. ‘Darling – you’re not dressed,’ he warned.
She turned. Laughed.
‘You’re such a fuddy duddy.’
With that she let the towel fall, and popped into the chair beside him, took one of his cigarettes and crossed her legs.
‘Light me up, please, darling.’
Biff’s jaw dropped.
‘My God, woman.’
He looked wildly around, but realized with relief that where they were, it would be difficult for her to be seen. He looked back at her again, at her small breasts dazzling in the bright light, at the golden freckles that wound down her arms and legs and at her painted toes. It was both erotic and surreal, as if one of the ornamental figures had come alive. She giggled and prompted:
‘The light, darling?’
He flicked open his lighter top and at the second attempt applied the flame to the end of the cigarette. She took a long pull, sat back and breathed out smoke, making rings.
He shook his head in disbelief.
‘Where, oh where, did you learn to do that?’
She put her other arm across her chest to hold the elbow of the arm with the cigarette, pushing up her breasts.
‘Where else? School.’
He shook his head.
‘What am I going to do with you?’
He knew as soon as he said it that was a mistake.
She looked back at him from under her half-closed, long eyelashes.
‘I hope you’ll think of something.’
So he did. But she had to wait until that night.
Everybody seemed to be looking at him.
Then he realized
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