“Th’ bird’s lost weight,” Stuart commented and John nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s eatin’ at all; she didn’t eat anythin’ yesterday morning or t’day either.  An’ what’re we gonna do ‘bout tonight?  We got th’ show at th’ Grosvenor ballroom, don’t think we can make it to th’ café in time ta get ‘er ‘ome safe.  An’ Cyn’s comin’ ta hear us, I kinda need ta spend a little time with ‘er, she’s gettin’ twitchy ‘cause I ‘aven’t been ‘round much lately.”

Stuart made a little face.  Cyn was a great girl, but she’d go off on a spat of crying if she thought John was ignoring her.  And she was probably starting to worry about her boyfriend running off to the fleshpots of Hamburg, afraid he’d take up with a pretty German girl or something.  Stuart hid a grin, it’s really all the lads had been talking ‘bout, the pretty girls they might see and if they’d be receptive to a group of English boys.  Paul and George had seemed especially interested in the conversation; the younger lads hadn’t as much experience as he and John had, and if he thought of it, it was likely George had no experience at all.  He hid another grin at the thought, a trip out of the country might be good for the kid!

“I think a bigger question is what’re we gonna do ‘bout a drummer?” Stuart replied, changing the subject and keeping with his thoughts.  “Th’ trip ta Hamburg’s almost ‘ere.  No drummer means we don’ go.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, morosely considering options.  Well, John would prob’ly figure something out, he always did.  The lad pulled rabbits outta hats sometimes, seemed like, Stu thought affectionately.  John Lennon, miracle worker, always able to come up with an answer of one sort or another.  He’d know what to do, he always did.

“Look, why doncha give Paulie a try on bass tonight?” he asked as he turned his attention back to Sharon.  “Tell th’ lads I’m sick, I’ll go take care o’ th’ bird.”

“Yeah, too right yer gonna try ta take care of ‘er,” John growled in mock anger.

Stuart just laughed at his friend.  A thought made him pause.  He couldn’t ask this very delicately.

“John?  ‘ave ya…… errrr …… ‘ave you an’ Sharon…… you know, ‘ave ya done it since ‘er scare?” he asked.

His friend slanted him a glance, his face reddening slightly. 

“Nah, ‘aven’t wanted ta push ‘er,” he muttered shamefacedly, as if embarrassed to be caught in the act of being selfless.  He recovered his composure with a coughing spell that seemed feigned to Stuart’s eyes and ears.  “Besides,” John cracked, “’ow can we do it, yer always there, ya swine!”

“Yeah, well, yer smarter than ya look, then,” Stuart commented, then had to duck away from the blow John aimed at him.  “Nah, seriously, Johnny, ya gotta let th’ bird take th’ lead with somethin’ like this,” he continued earnestly, thinking of Lily.  “She got scared pretty good, ya know.”

“Too right,” John sighed.  “I’d like ta find that bastard, I’d rearrange ‘is face fer ‘im, ‘e’d be wearin’ cement wellies!”

Stuart somehow kept the smile from his lips.  John must have taken Cyn to see that American gangster movie at the cinemas, he thought.  Probably when he was supposed to have been in class this week.  He despaired of his friend ever graduating art college; he’d never make it out of Lettering with a passing grade at this rate.  But pushing John would only make him turn further away from the studies and schoolwork that Stuart rather enjoyed.

“So ya think we’ll sound awright with jus’ two guitars an’ a bass t’night?” John asked.  “Ya think Paul can play th’ bass well enough ta sub fer ya?”

Stuart started laughing.  “Yer gonna sound better than ya would if I was there, John!  An’ if I can play th’ freakin’ thing, Paulie sure as hell can play it!  An’ a lot better ‘n me!  Ya know I’m ‘orrible, ya oughta fire me, I only know three songs.  Maybe four.  I try an’ fake me way through th’ others, but I can’t play ‘em dead bright.”

“Nah, yer too hard on yerself, ya do fine,” John replied easily.  “An’ ya know five songs, at least.  Yer gettin’ better at it, ya jus’ need ta practice a bit more.  Yer in th’ band ‘til ya want out, Stu.”

“Ya already nearly lost one job ‘cause o’ me……” Stuart began, but John interrupted him.

“Told ya, yer in th’ band ‘til ya want out.  There’s nuthin’ more ta be said ‘bout it.”

John had that stubborn, mulish look in his eyes, and Stuart sighed, knowing that his friend wouldn’t accept any further discussion on the subject. 

“Anyroad, Paulie’ll sound grand on bass, if he wants ta give it a go.  I’ll make sure Sharon’s home safe, right?”

“Yeah, sounds good, ta.  I’d be a bit worried otherwise.”

“No problem.  What time is it?” Stuart asked.

John checked his watch.  “Shit, I gotta get over ta George’s an’ get me guitar an’ amp!  I gotta go!  See ya t’morrow, then, right?” he asked, pulling himself out of the depths of the broken down sofa.

“Yeah.  Ya gonna bring Cyn back ‘ere t’night?”

John grinned cheekily.  “I bloody well ‘ope so!  I need it bad!”

Stuart shook his head in resignation.  “Prob’ly a good thing I’m gonna be at Sharon’s, then, I wouldn’t get any sleep ‘ere!  See ya t’morrow afternoon.”

John waved as he dashed out of the room and Stuart winced when he heard the door slam behind his departing comrade.  He looked around the flat and thought he’d do a little clean-up.  Cyn would be astounded, and he had a few hours to kill before meeting Sharon.  He absently stacked a few canvases and paint cans onto an already existing pile, heard them slide off onto the floor as he turned around, shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

Stuart’s thoughts remained on Sharon as he scrubbed cups and cutlery.  He wondered when she’d be feeling right about doing a bit of the old in-out with John.  Whilst he’d meant what he’d said to his friend, that the girl needed to take the lead in this, he couldn’t help but hope she’d do it soon.  He knew that she still flinched a bit when either of them came too near, and he thought a gentle rendezvous might offer some healing to the girl.  He hoped John had enough sense to be tender with the girl.

***

“Evenin’, Sharon, d’ja ‘ave a good day?”

Sharon smiled in heady relief at finding Stuart waiting for her when the café closed.  Hadn’t John said they had a show every Saturday this month?  Perhaps he’d be by after the show?  But thank heavens, she had company and support on the trek up the hill that she still dreaded.  Theodore would be there one day, she just knew it.  But perhaps she could take care of herself this next time.  She touched the knife in her pocket, comforting herself by sliding her fingers ‘round its handle.

“Thank you, Stuart, yes, a good day.  And you?”

They walked to the bus stop as Stuart replied.

“……then John realized it was time fer th’ gig an’ ran out.  I did a bit o’ cleaning, then caught th’ bus ‘ere.”

“Why aren’t you at the show?” she asked.

Stuart shrugged.  “I’m not very good,” he said without a trace of self consciousness.  “John’s got me in th’ band ‘cause we’re friends, but I can’t play well.  Kinda makes th’ birds take a second look at me, though,” he admitted.

Sharon nodded with a bit of a smile.  “I’m sure it does.  Girls always flock around musicians and actors.  I’m sure you get more than your fair share, Stuart,” she teased him gently.

The bus arrived and Sharon gave the proper coinage for two fares, waving Stuart’s protest aside.  The lads were being so sweet to her, paying their bus fare was the least she could do, she thought in gratitude.  She was actually feeling better, not jumping at shadows near as much as she had earlier in the week.

They arrived at her stop without incident and trudged up the hill to her building.  Old Mrs. Busybody sniffed audibly when she saw them on the stairs, and Sharon merely returned look for look, looking down her nose at her neighbour as she unlocked her door and invited her guest inside.

“She’s a bit of a sour puss, i’nt she?” Stuart commented as Sharon shut and locked the door.

“Yes, definitely!  I call her Mrs. Busybody, but her name’s really Mrs. Porter.  She’s got a real stick up her bum about strange men visiting single women,” Sharon explained, moving into the kitchen and setting her purse on the counter.

“So now I’m strange, eh?” Stuart asked with a laugh.  “Well, I guess I been called worse.”

Sharon smiled, he was such a handsome lad, and so sweet as well.  She wondered if he’d be staying tonight, or if he’d just come to walk her home.  This felt a little awkward, and she had a smile at herself over the feeling.  Here she’d had two teenaged boys sleeping in her flat for the past two nights, and now she was feeling awkward about having only one teenaged boy sleeping here!

“Errr, would you like tea?  Or something to eat?”

“Mmmm, tea’d be grand, ta.  Not hungry, though.  Unless yer gonna eat, too, then I’ll join ya.  You eatin’ anythin’ these days, Sharon?” he asked, pinning her with his artist’s glare.

She looked away and busied herself with the kettle and tray.  “A little,” she lied.

“I’ll bet yer lyin’ t’ me, girl,” Stuart scoffed.  “I’m worried ‘bout ya, Sharon.”

Sharon felt tears prickling at the backs of her eyes over his concern.  They were both such good lads, and her fondness for Stuart had climbed quite high in the past three days.  Had it only been three days, she wondered?  It seemed like an eternity, nothing like trauma and confession to push people together.

“Why don’ we have a bit o’ soup, luv?  That might taste good, doncha think?”

She let him bully her into heating a can of mild vegetable soup, felt compelled to choke down a few mouthfuls under his level glare.  It stayed down, thank God, and it actually tasted good.

“Yer cupboard’s nearly bare, Sharon, why don’ we go t’ th’ corner market an’ buy a few things, eh?”

Sharon realized he was simply trying to get her interested in food again, but she allowed it, she didn’t fancy the thought of shopping by herself and the boys’ appetites had made good inroads to her larder over the past two mornings.  She couldn’t prevent herself from putting her large carving knife in her purse before they left, and Stuart thankfully didn’t comment on it although he must have noticed her actions.  She kept her fingers clenched around the knife in her pocket during the short walk, only relaxing when they were inside the little shop.

“So…… what looks good?” Stuart asked casually.

Sharon couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, realized it was her first real laugh in many long days.

“What’s funny?”

She shook her head.  “You.  You’re trying so hard to…… to help me, you’re just nudging and nudging me, and you’re trying to appear so innocent about it.”

He grinned.  “Well, if it works……?”

She bought soup and cereal and eggs and cheese and butter and milk and even some lovely summer squash.  She shied away from the tiny butcher case, not able to look at the raw meats without nausea, and she was grateful Stuart didn’t push her in that area.  The meats just seemed to remind her of blood drying on her fingers, of the feel of the man’s neck as she’d pierced it with her nails……  Sharon swallowed the rising nausea and turned her thoughts to other things as quickly as possible.

“Do you like dance?” she blurted to her companion.  “The theatre?”

He looked startled at her question, but nodded.  “Yeah, I’ve seen a bit, here an’ there.  Liked readin’ a bit o’ th’ bard when I was in school.  Kinda made me odd man out with me mates, but I liked th’ way ol’ Will paints a picture with words.”

Sharon blinked.  “You like Shakespeare?”

“Oh yeah!  He’s grand.  You too?”

She nodded.  “I adore the Bard!”  What a surprise to find another fan in this somewhat rough boy, but she realized that while his appearance was rough, he was the most gentle person she thought she’d ever met.

Her purchases were bagged and they began the trek back to her flat, trading lines from different plays.  Sharon was astounded by the depth of his knowledge.  He knew verse and act of most everything she quoted.  What an amazing young man!

“’By Jupiter, an angel!  Or if not, an earthly paragon!  Behold divineness no elder than a boy!’” she mused as they climbed the stairs.  She realized their conversation had gotten her from the market to her flat without a thought for her phantom bogeymen who continued to bother her.  Who continued to bother her less and less with each passing day, she firmly reminded herself.

“What’s that from?  I don’ recognize it?” Stuart asked.

Sharon smiled as she unlocked her door.  “It’s from Cymbeline, it’s not one of his better known plays.”

“I’m gonna ‘ave ta read it, thought I’d read everything ol’ Willie wrote,” he complained.

“It’s one of his romances,” Sharon explained as she put the kettle on and then began putting the groceries away.  “A lovely story, almost a fairy tale.”

“Like Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Stuart asked.

“Well, a bit…… it’s fanciful, with a wicked stepmother, a villain, lost children, it’s really quite difficult to describe well.  I have a copy of the play if you’d care to borrow it.”

“Oh, ta, I’d appreciate it, Sharon!”

She smiled her promise.

“’To be or not to be......’” Stuart began.

“Oh, no, not Hamlet, please!  That’s too depressing,” Sharon said hurriedly.

“Nah, it’s not really, it’s got a lotta beauty to it!  Ophelia in Act 3, there’s a soliloquy!”

“What, you mean where she’s talking to mad Hamlet, trying to make him remember his protestations of love?  ‘My honoured Lord, you know right well you did, and with them words of so sweet breath composed, as made the things more rich.’  Is that what you’re talking about?  But it’s such a depressing play, I really think it’s overrated!”

“Not a chance, it’s ‘is best!”

“It’s not even one of his better ones!” she protested, laughing at his vehemence.  She took the kettle off the flame and made tea, carried the tea tray into the living room.

“Well, what’s yer favourite, then?” Stuart asked, sitting on the couch beside her.

“Oh, there’s no contest, Romeo and Juliet of course!”

Stuart laughed.  “Typical girlie choice, Romeo an’ Juliet,” he teased.  Now there’s a depressin’ story for ya!”

“Oh, but it’s so beautiful,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, right, it’s beautiful, but everybody dies in th’ end!”

“Well, everyone dies in most of his plays.  Not the comedies of course, but the dramas and tragedies, what do you expect?  They’re called tragedies for a reason!  But the couplets are simply brilliant, the way he writes is like music, a dance.”

“It’s like a painting,” Stuart argued good-naturedly.

“No, a beautiful dance,” Sharon insisted with a smile.

They began quoting lines from the play, and Sharon was pleased that, although he professed to dislike the play, Stuart knew chapter and verse of it as well.  A thorough scholar!    And this was such fun, she’d never met anyone who enjoyed the Bard so much and knew his works so well!  They took one role or the other, with Stuart mincing through a speech that Nurse made, making Sharon giggle, then Sharon taking a speech of the good Friar, lowering her voice until it was rough and masculine.  Stuart laughed uproariously over that, but she couldn’t keep going because her throat got sore, and she returned to the female roles, letting Stuart take over the male roles.

After quite a long time of this, Sharon yawned and immediately apologized. 

“Oh, dear, excuse me.  ‘Good night, good night.  As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast.’”

“’O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’” Stuart intoned the next line with a teasing smile.

“’What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?’” Sharon asked, enjoying the repartee and the flow of the beautiful words.

“’The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.’”

She looked deeply into his eyes, smiling, falling back the role of Juliet easily enough.

“’I gave thee mine before thou didst request it.  And yet I would it were to give again’,” she said wistfully.

“’Wouldst thou withdraw it?’” Stuart asked, his eyes gentle and dreamy, a slight smile on his lips.  “’For what purpose, love?’”

“’But to be frank and give it thee again’,” she whispered. 

Lost in the role, she was half of the star crossed lovers, and she leaned close to Stuart and brushed his lips with hers, a sweet, chaste kiss as befitted the virginal Juliet to her handsome Romeo.

Sharon opened her eyes, blinked and sat up straight as she was certain a blush reddened her cheeks.  She picked up her teacup in confusion as she realized Stuart was watching her, his unblinking appraisal steady and intense.  Was there desire hidden in their liquid depths?  Caught like a butterfly under a pin, she looked back, her teacup forgotten.

Was this what she wanted?  Could she do this again? 

All her deeply buried fears came to the surface.  She was so afraid, so worried that she couldn’t respond to a man again.  Over the past nights, she’d been unable to even think of asking John to her bed without becoming frightened, afraid that she’d fail in the quest and would thus destroy all of her wonderful memories of their night of passion.  The very thought of her lovely memories being destroyed like that made her even more afraid, even less willing to consider the idea.

But Stuart was gentle and non-threatening; he had a poet’s heart beating strongly in that slight body.  He’d held her whilst she’d cried out her tale of woe, and he’d never condemned her.  He’d been a good and true friend, better than she deserved.  And in spite of all that, he was still very much a stranger to her.  If she tried and failed, would it really matter?  She didn’t think he’d judge her and she’d know, finally, if she could enjoy taking a man to her bed again, or if she’d best put it aside forever. 

Forever?  She grew angry at the thought; Theodore was a bastard and he’d taken a lot of joy from her life.  How dare he?  How dare she let him?

Without conscious thought, Sharon tilted her head to the side and leaned towards Stuart, brushing her lips across his again, closing her eyes in relief and wonder when he responded to her advance.

***

Stuart watched the struggle in her eyes, knowing without thought that he needed to remain still and let her determine the outcome.  When she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his again, he shuddered with a desire he was finally free to show as he kissed her gently, her lips parting under his, their breath mingling and dividing, coming back together to form a whole.  She’d made up her mind, then, and no matter the reasoning behind her eyes, he’d take her where she wanted to be taken.  He’d told John to wait for the bird’s lead.  Well, she was leading now, and he’d accompany her where she led.  Didn’t matter if he was playing the part of a substitute for the one she really wanted, he saw the doubt and need in her eyes, recognized the fear of rejection and fear of something else.  Was she afraid she’d never feel enjoyment in the act again?

He realized belatedly that her body might have been unharmed by the attempt her ex-husband had made on her, but her soul had been raped and she was afraid to feel again.

Stuart kissed her lightly, put his hands on either side of her face to hold her steady as he gave his entire attention to the kiss, moving his lips lightly over her cheeks, eyebrows, nose, chin, finally settling on her lips.  But his hands couldn’t stay still, instead moving down to touch her neck, her chest, her breasts, cupping their weight and learning their delicate contours by touch.  Their clothes fell by the wayside, a condom was produced from a drawer.  Stuart kept conscious thought on what he did, ensuring that he touched and held her considerately and took direction from her moans and responses.  He let her lead, never forcing anything, never pushing for something, but letting her make all the decisions.  He wasn’t surprised that she chose a position of power, straddling him on the sofa, controlling the movements and keeping her ability to escape if need be.  He knew it might take her a long time to reach a climax, so he kept his concentration tightly focused and kept stern control over his reactions, worked gently and tenderly to ensure she reached the peak.

Stuart’s efforts in this direction were in vain; he could see it in her eyes, she was too desperate for the culmination, too afraid that she couldn’t reach it.  When she moved off him and curled up in a ball, hiding her face in her hands and sobbing dispiritedly, he didn’t hesitate, but crawled off the sofa and made himself comfortable in front of her. 

He worked gently to unfold her limbs, to arrange them to his liking, ignoring how she tried to push him away.  He was gentle and tender, but he was thorough with a single-minded intensity that he only ever put into his art.  He wondered if his Mistress would mind the shift in attention, if he’d be paying for his lapse with a lack of inspiration.  He pushed those thoughts away, he’d find out soon enough if She were going to be charitable. 

He kissed Sharon, felt her fingers finally move to stroke through his hair as he promised delights with lips and tongue, paid reverence to the source of her being.  Without words, he explained to her that it was all right to feel again, that she deserved to be a whole person, that it was not her fault.

That it would never be her fault. 

Once he’d explained this to her without words, he explained it again and yet again, enforcing the knowledge with each climax he brought her to.  Only after several such explanations did he move onto his knees and ease himself into her heat again, touching her as gently as before and making sure she understood him twice more before finally spilling into her heat and passion with a moan.  The shudders started at his toes and worked their way up his body until they exploded in his brain, colours and tastes and textures discharging in wild abandon, an impressionistic painting beyond anything he ever saw when his eyes were open.

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked into her tear stained face and leaned forward to kiss her softly, sweetly, delicately.  Her kiss held gratitude and relief, near exultation, and Stuart smiled into her eyes, seeing those same emotions mirrored in their liquid depths.

When she opened her mouth to speak, he kissed her again, then shook his head and held a finger up to her lips. 

No words, he told her with his eyes, saw her eyes fill with tears as she nodded.  He helped her to unfold her bed and tumbled down into it with her, grateful that she remained silent, holding her tenderly as she dozed off.  A stubborn headache plagued him, as it did from time to time, and he remained awake throughout the long night.

Yes, sometimes silence was golden.  There would be plenty of time for regrets in the cold clear light of the approaching dawn.

***

When Sharon opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a slim back, the body sitting on the edge of her bed, the ribs nearly prominent beneath the pale flesh in the thin morning sunlight.  She smelled the smoke of his cigarette, saw the tension in the lines of his back, and she raised up on an elbow and leaned forward, kissed him on the spine.  Such a wonderful boy, to have him wracked by a guilty conscience now was really too much, but there it was, in the stiff line of his body and in the shadow lingering in the eyes he turned towards her. 

He’d set her free from some of her fears.  Only to be consumed by fears of his own.

And how did she feel about it, this morning after?  This could be decidedly awkward.

“Good morning,” she said quietly.

He had a smile on his lips, but she could see it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“’morning, luv,” he replied.  “Sleep well?”

She nodded.  “Yes, marvelously, thank you.  You?”

He shrugged.  “I get headaches sometimes, they don’ lemme sleep very well.”

“Well, the bed’s not very comfortable, either.”

“Oh, nah, it was fine.”

There was an awkward silence, then Sharon asked, “Would you like a cuppa?”

“Ta, that’d be great.”

She got out of bed and retreated to the loo, pulled on her robe and then went to fix the kettle.  She carried the tray in when everything was ready.  He was fully dressed and had busied himself straightening the living room.

“Thank you for folding up the bed.”

“No problem, thanks fer th’ tea.”

They sipped in silence, then Sharon put her cup down.

“’Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much’,” she said hesitantly.

She watched a slow smile break out on his face, and this one reached up to his eyes.

“Act three, scene five, but Juliet says that ta Nurse, not ta Romeo.”

“I know, but the sentiment fits, Stuart.  Thank you.”

He gave her a weak grin.  “Glad ta be o’ service.”

Sharon sipped her tea for a moment, then refilled both their cups.  She tried to think of anything to say, finally hitting on something she’d wondered the previous night.

“Stuart, why didn’t John come by last night?  After the show?  You knew he wasn’t going to be here, didn’t you?”

She watched a slow flush work its way across his face.

“I’d bet he didn’t stop by because he was spending some time with a girlfriend, am I right?” she continued, smiling gently when Stuart started at her question.  She looked at him closely.  He needed to understand this, and she hoped he’d believe her sincerity. 

“Stuart, I’d have been a very great fool if I thought that John didn’t have a girlfriend.  Or two.  Or three!” she added with a chuckle, happy to see a hesitant answering smile on Stuart’s lips.  She waited until she was certain he was paying close attention to her.

“I’m not John’s girlfriend, Stuart.  I never was.  John and I had a lovely evening together and that’s all.  I don’t know if there’s anything more than that.”

“Yer sayin’ I shouldn’t be feelin’ guilty ‘bout pullin’ ‘is girl, right?” he asked bluntly.

She smiled and nodded.  “I suppose that’s precisely what I’m saying.  Except that I was never ‘his girl’.”

She watched him think about it for a moment, then he nodded. 

“So...... what d’we do from ‘ere?” he asked.

“Well, I have to count myself fortunate to have been graced with two such wonderful teenaged lovers,” she began, hiding her smile when Stuart blushed.

“I’m twenny, I’m not a teenager any longer,” he interrupted.  “An’ John’ll be twenny before long, too.”

“Well, two wonderful young lovers, then.  I’m thirty-four, Stuart, nearly thirty-five, and I’m not looking to become anyone’s girlfriend.  You and John have been wonderful for my ego, and you especially have been wonderfully kind to me.”

“I didn’t......”

“I know,” she interrupted him.  “I know it wasn’t charity, not completely, and I appreciate that, Stuart.  I appreciate you more than I can tell you.  And I appreciate John, too.”  She sighed.  “I’m not the type of girl to keep two lovers hanging about, Stuart.  I...... I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do.  You and John have been wonderful friends and fantastic for my ego and my...... my sense of comfort, I suppose.  I think you saved my sanity,” she confessed.  “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.  But I don’t know where it goes from here, either.  I think...... I think I need to ponder it for a while and...... and decide then.”

She looked at him closely.  The eyes were a mirror to the soul, and his eyes remained sad and guilt ridden.  She couldn’t face him any longer; the depths of her soul were likewise consumed with sadness and guilt despite her brave words to him.

“Stuart, I’m sorry, but I think...... I think you should go.  I’m truly sorry and I hope you understand, I don’t mean to seem as if I’m pushing you away, but I have a lot to think about.”  She thought for a moment, then hesitantly continued.  “‘Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight.  It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden......’”

“’......too like the lightening, which doth cease to be ere one can say –it lightens-.  Sweet, good night.  This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet’,” Stuart finished as he stood up.

The tears sprang easily to her eyes.  “Stuart......”

He shook his head.  “’Parting is such sweet sorrow’”.  He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.  “D’ya want one of us ta come by...... ta take ya ta work this afta’noon?” he asked, moving towards the door.

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine,” she said, fighting her tears, following him to the door.  “Stuart......”

“No, don’t,” he said.  “’Speech doth fail me, ‘tho days and weeks and years walk ahead wherein voices shall be free to make a dialogue.  But for today, let our lips remain silent, let our minds rest at ease to ponder...... the whims of our future, the...... consequences of our past.  Adieu, my sweet.  Adieu.’”

She cocked her head at him.  “I don’t recognize that, Stuart, what play’s it from?”

He grinned, and a light of humour was readily apparent in the mischief in his eyes.  “It’s not from any play, I just made it up.  G’day, luv.  See ya...... soon.”

He slipped out the door and was gone.

Sharon pulled herself back together over the next hour.  She straightened the apartment, bathed and got ready for work, pulled out Romeo and Juliet for a read, but had to put the book down because it was, as Stuart had said, too depressing.  What to do, what to do?

She kept her hand on her knife whilst on the bus to work, but the trip was uneventful, boring, even.  Her work at the café was performed automatically, and the customers were few.  When the shop was locked up at eight, John was waiting for her outside.

“Hello, John, how are you?  How was the show last night?” she asked, searching his eyes.  Had Stuart said anything?

“’evenin’, Sharon,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  “It was a bit of a madhouse, actually.  Things got a bit outta hand, th’ police got called an’ th’ ballroom’s shut down ‘til further notice.  So we’re outta work, I was kinda hopin’ ta have gigs there fer th’ next two weeks ‘til we leave fer Hamburg.  But I guess it’s gonna give us a bit o’ time ta find a drummer.”

“You haven’t found one yet?  You’d best start looking, young man!” 

He didn’t seem to be acting any differently, was it just a guilty conscience that was making her jumpy?  They began walking towards the bus stop.

“Yeah, really gotta start lookin’, th’ contract’s fer a five piece.  But I got somebody in mind, think ‘e’ll work out ok.”

“That’s...... wonderful, John, I hope it all works out,” she replied, wondering what she’d do when her saviours couldn’t walk her home from work every night.  She was relying on them too heavily, she told herself sternly.  But it wasn’t even a week ago that Theodore had attacked her, a small voice told her.  True, but you were only frightened, not physically hurt, at least not badly, stop dwelling on it, she told the voice. 

“Have you...... have you seen Stuart today?” she asked, cursing herself for stuttering.

“Yeah, ‘e was busy paintin’ when I left.  ‘e’s a bit touchy when ‘e’s paintin’, can’t talk to ‘im at all, ‘e just dives into it with a concentration I’ve never seen in another person.  ‘cept fer maybe George, when ‘e’s learnin’ a new song, ‘e gets like that a bit, too.”

They stopped at the bus stop and waited for their ride.

“Well, I understand that, I sort of fall into a trance when I stretch, and I remember almost disappearing into a role when I was acting, I ‘became’ that character so completely,” Sharon confessed.

“’ow come ya never got back inta theatre, Sharon?” John asked, turning a quizzical gaze on her.

She looked down at the ground, across the street, down to the corner.  Was there someone standing in a darkened storefront, watching them?  No, it was just a shadow.  She had a shiver regardless.

“My ex-husband was quite a part of the theatre scene and he’d made lots of friends.  I wanted to stay as far away from his...... regard as possible.  The theatre in London is really a rather small community, very inbred.  I doubt I’d have ever gotten a job again.  And of course, I can’t dance any longer.”

“Well, I think ya dance really well, Sharon luv,” John said and she was astounded to feel a blush creeping up her cheeks.  “But ya don’t ‘ave ta dance ta act, do ya?  Or ta teach others, right?”

“No, but it’s simply too small a community here, I’d never be able to break into it again.”

The bus arrived and they climbed on, found seats and settled down for the ride.  Upon arrival at her flat, she made tea, sat and chatted for a few hours and then she prepared for bed.  When she came out of the loo, John was thankfully settled on the floor in the blankets he’d pulled from the closet.  She crawled into her bed.

“Thank you, John.  And I mean that most sincerely, you and Stuart have been life savers this week,” she said.  “I’ve really appreciated having you boys around.”

“Not a problem,” he replied.  “G’night, luv, I’ll be right ‘ere.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

Coward, she thought savagely to herself, wishing she could ask him into her bed, still unsure of her own heart and mind.  And if she were truthful, she’d have to say that the loving she’d so thoroughly enjoyed the previous night still beat strongly in her veins.  Although it had started poorly, it had ended wonderfully; a guilt she continued to ponder.  She wasn’t a woman who’d go from one man’s arms to another’s.

Sighing, Sharon made herself comfortable and fell into a fitful sleep.

A week later, she was still struggling with her decision.

***

“’oy, Stuart, I’m goin’ out fer a drink with Paul an’ George, Paulie nicked some money off his Da, ya comin’?”

Stuart shook his head with an awkward smile.  “Nah, I’ll take a turn an’ go check on Sharon, see ‘ow she’s doin’.  ‘aven’t seen much of ‘er, she been awright, John?”

“Yeah, well, you been spendin’ all yer time paintin’, wonder when ya even sleep!  What bug’s up yer arse, eh?” John asked.

“Gotta paint when th’ inspiration strikes, ya know?” Stuart replied with a shrug.  His muse hadn’t left him, She’d been with him even stronger than before and all his passion had been put to paper or canvas, he’d felt possessed of a need to paint and draw the face in his dreams……

“Yeah, I guess,” John said, clearly dismissing his friend’s words.  “Sharon’s ok, she seems better, a bit more relaxed each day this week.  She may not need us keepin’ ‘er comp’ny as much, think she’s not as scared as she was at first.  I’m gonna stop by there a bit later, see just how good she’s feelin’,” he added with a suggestive leer.  “Ya better not plan on spendin’ th’ night there, swear ya won’t get any sleep, son!”

Stuart shook his head at his friend’s boast.  “Ya better be soft with ‘er, John,” he warned.  “Don’ push ‘er.”

“I plan on bein’ hard with ‘er,” John said with another leer.

“I mean it, John, be gentle with th’ bird.  Yer gonna scare ‘er otherwise.  This is serious business, ya can’t be rough with ‘er, use yer brain, ya gotta be tender with th’ girl.”

“C’mon, man, it’s me!  I’ll do whatever I ‘ave to so’s I can get some!  I can be gentle an’ tender,” John said, batting his lashes and affecting a limp wristed manner.

Stuart laughed, then sighed.  “Right, just try ta ‘member, she’s had a big scare, be nice to ‘er.  I mean it, John, don’t scare ‘er.”

John made a face and reached out to punch Stuart in the shoulder.  “I’m always nice, ya stupid wack!  An’ I won’t scare ‘er.”

Stuart rubbed his shoulder, sucked in a nervous breath, blew it out.  “John......”

“Hell, lookit th’ time, I gotta fly, gotta get t’ th’ Crack before they drink up all th’ money!  Sure ya don’t wanna come along?”

“Nah, thanks, John.  But I need ta tell ya......”

“I’ll see ya later, then, tell Sharon I’ll stop ‘round later, right?”

The door slammed behind his friend and Stuart was left alone with his thoughts.  He waited the bare minimum of time to ensure he and John wouldn’t be on the same bus, then left the flat and caught the next bus, waited until she got off work at the café, pacing outside the little restaurant and kicking pebbles into the road.  She was right on time.

“Stuart!  H......hullo, I wasn’t expecting you, I haven’t seen you in...... all week,” Sharon said.  She seemed nervous, and Stuart sighed inwardly.  This was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

“’evenin’, Sharon,” he replied quietly, trying to seem calm and soothing.  “Can I walk ya ‘ome?  John said ta tell ya he’ll be by a bit later, he’s goin’ out fer a drink first, with Paulie an’ George.”

“Th......thank you so much, I appreciate the...... the walk.”

They walked in silence, rode the bus in silence, trudged up the hill in silence, and entered her flat in silence.  Sharon made tea while Stuart silently waited on the sofa.  Despite the somewhat awkward silence, her eyes weren’t as shadowed; she didn’t seem as forlorn.  P’rhaps John was right and she was recovering her spirit?  P’rhaps he’d helped her see the way?  P’rhaps he was a bloody fool, contemplating what he was about to do?  But he had to do this, he had no choice in the matter, he had to make sure of his feelings, and she had to know how he felt as well.

When she came in with the tea tray, he waited ‘til she sat down and then reached for her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her gently.  She submitted for a moment of what appeared to be startled indecision, then pushed him away. He let her go immediately, noted her uncertain blush and downcast eyes, noted his own lack of reaction to the kiss.

“Stuart......”

“Sharon, I got somethin’ I need ta tell ya, I hope yer not hurt by it, but I can’t keep it from ya, either..”

“Stuart......”

“No, lemme talk.  I know yer gonna think I’m wacked, but ever since that night with ya last week, there’s been this bird in me head.  I see ‘er all th’ time, she’s painted on th’ backs o’ me eyelids when I shut me eyes, I see ‘er in me dream, I see ‘er on th’ edge o’ me senses when I turn a corner.  I thought at first she was you, she looks a bit like ya, short blonde hair, ‘bout my height, but she’s not you.  She’s...... well, ‘er tits aren’t as big as yers, so I know she’s not you,” he said self consciously.  He rubbed his hands through his hair, realized he still had paint on his fingers.  Well, it was dry and wouldn’t get in his hair anyway, he’d have to remember to scrub it off later.  “She’s...... she’s so beautiful.”  He started to feel hot as he realized what he’d said and he hurried to try to rectify it.  “I mean…… I mean yer beautiful too, but she…… she’s……”  Give it up, Stuart, he told himself, blushing hotly and deciding to avoid burying himself further.  He blew out a gust of breath.  “She’s somebody I’m gonna meet, an’ I think she’s somebody I’m gonna love.  I can’t think of anythin’ but ‘er.  I know she’s out there, I just need ta find ‘er.  I gotta find ‘er, Sharon.”

There was silence for a few moments.  She probably thought he was mental.  He hoped he hadn’t hurt her very badly.  He still didn’t know what to do about John, though.  He’d tried just this evening to tell his friend about what he’d done, but John had been in his typical rush.  He’d been hoping that Sharon and John would have gotten back together during the week whilst he’d been studiously staying away from the girl, trying to give her some space in which to make up her mind, only she hadn’t made a choice.  Once he’d kissed her this evening, he’d known for certain that she wasn’t the one he wanted, and he’d hoped it would be apparent to her as well.  She wasn’t the one, not the one he was looking for, and he hoped that he wasn’t what she was searching for, either.  He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want to have her choosing him over John, either!  He wasn’t......available.  Not any longer. 

Not since he’d seen the girl in his dreams.

***

Sharon was startled into silence by Stuart’s speech.  She’d only this morning made up her mind, decided what she was going to do, and this was simply unbelievable.  She read the sincerity in his eyes, in his posture, and she knew he was telling her the absolute truth.  Tears sprang into her eyes, tears of gratitude, tears of joy.

She moved back into his arms and hugged him tightly, then sat back with a sigh.

“Ah, Stuart, you break my heart with your sincerity.  I hope you find your girl, and I hope she’s as wonderful as she must be for her to touch your heart like this.”

His head came up, surprise on his face.  “You believe me?”

She nodded.  “Oh yes, of course, Stuart.  You wouldn’t lie about something like this, you wouldn’t make up a story like this just to let me down gently.  I can see it in your eyes.”  She smiled gently.  “I can nearly see her in your eyes, Stuart, her touch on your heart is so strong.  I hope your Mistress doesn’t interfere.  Sometimes...... the passion in ones’ life doesn’t...... allow...... room for another love.” 

Was that what had happened to Theodore, she wondered absently?  Had his soul become twisted because he hadn’t been able to give his life over to his art?  Sharon had known nearly twenty-five years before that Dance would rule her life.  Her Master had allowed her to dabble in the theatre, and He’d been the only thing that had helped her survive the injury and recovery.  He’d never deserted her, even in the long years since; He had always been with her.  A gentle Master, and yet a jealous one, only allowing her the occasional lover, never allowing her to maintain a long relationship, although she’d tried so hard with Theodore.  At first, anyway.

Sharon turned her attention back to the boy on her sofa, realized that his expression had gone from surprise to shock.

“Nobody’s ever understood about Her before,” he said quietly.  “I’ve tried ta talk with John about Her, but ‘e acts like I’m daft.”

His eyes were round with awe, and Sharon started to laugh.

“Don’t be getting any ideas that you’ve made a mistake and I’m the girl of your dreams after all, Stuart!”  She smiled broadly when a transparent flush spread across his features.  “I know about Her because I’m a fellow artist, that’s all.  I know the touch of the Master in my life as well, He’s been with me for many years.”  She shook her head and leaned over, kissing him on his hot cheek.  “Ah. laddy buck, I hope you find her, I really do.  I was surprised to see you today because I’d decided this morning that I was going to have to tell you I sincerely enjoy our friendship, it’s become ‘a beauteous flower’, as Romeo said.  But I don’t want to be your lover.  Don’t misunderstand me, it was wonderful, Stuart, and it was what I needed right then and I thank you for it.  But you’re not the one I want.”

“Yeah?  Seriously?”

She nodded.  “Yes, seriously.  Now, would you like something to eat?  We can sit and talk about your ideal woman, I want to hear all about her!”

“Sharon, I gotta tell ya first, John’s gonna be over later t’night, an’ he’s hopin’ yer gonna feel up t’...... well, up t’ some lovin’.”

Sharon smiled as she picked up the tea tray and took it to the kitchen.  “I don’t think he has anything to worry about,” she said over her shoulder.  She was surprised when Stuart joined her in the kitchen and danced her around in a circle in an exuberant and spontaneous gesture of happiness.

“What are ya gonna tell John?” he asked, suddenly sobering, standing still with his hands on her waist, looking directly into her eyes.

Sharon sighed, but didn’t look away.  This was the difficult bit.  “I’m going to take the position that what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.  But if he asks, I’ll tell him, I won’t lie to him, not even for you, my dear.  However, I won’t volunteer the information.  How do you feel about that?”

Stuart made a little face.  “I don’ like lyin’ to ‘im.  Guess it’ll be th’ same fer me.  If ‘e asks, I’ll tell ‘im th’ truth.  But I’m not gonna do a big confessional scene with ‘im.”

“I think confession for the good of the soul is highly overrated, myself,” Sharon said with a slow smile of agreement.

She let him help her as she fixed an odd supper of scrambled eggs and pancakes with butter and syrup, and they sat and talked for over an hour.  He was so passionate, so true to the power that ruled him and to the dream he had, that Sharon almost felt a bit of sadness about him, worried that such truth of purpose and passion couldn’t possibly last without burning out.  She pushed that thought from her mind and enjoyed his company until a knock at the door nearly made her jump to her feet with her heart pounding in alarm.  Damn Theodore for turning her into such a ninny!  Damn herself for letting him!

Stuart went to the door and growled a question, smiling reassuringly at the answer she didn’t hear over the knocking of her heart.

“It’s John,” he said, opening the door to his friend.

John was leaning on the doorframe, smiling that cocky grin that she found so endearing.  Sharon thought of the last evening they’d had together, and was happy to realize that she was definitely looking forward to tonight as well. 

“Hullo, Sharon!” he boomed.

Stuart winced.  “Sharrup, John, yer too loud, be quiet!”

Sharon kissed Stuart on the cheek as he said goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger, Stuart, please?” she said softly.  “I don’t have many friends, and I find I count you highly amongst them.”

“It’s a promise, Sharon, an’ I feel th’ same way.  G’night, an’…… an have a good night, luv.  ‘member what I told ya, John,” he said as he walked out the door and bumped John in the shoulder in greeting and farewell.

“Won’t you come in?” Sharon asked.  “It’s lovely to see you, John.”

When John stood up from his lean with a slight list, she realized that he was drunk.  If not stinking pissed, then at least he was feeling no pain!  She sighed and put the kettle on for some strong, sweet tea, hoping it might help him sober up a bit; she was hoping for an enjoyable evening and knew through experience that men usually couldn’t perform very well when inebriated.

The arms that circled her waist surprised her, and she nearly jumped.  His kisses on her neck gave her goose flesh and she turned in his arms and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Well, hullo, John.”

His lips were on hers, surprisingly gentle and tender and very alcoholic, drawing her into a prolonged kiss that seemed to last forever.  He trapped her against the sink with his long, lean body pressed against hers, and she fought a momentary panic; he must have sensed it and pulled back, hip lips drawing away from hers with extreme reluctance.  The kettle began to sing, and he exhibited even more reluctance at releasing her to tend to that.

“That was a lovely greeting, John,” Sharon said, catching her breath and fixing the tea.

He didn’t seem to want to stop touching her, keeping a hand on her hip, absently caressing her with his fingers, and she felt the arousal building.  He hadn’t said a word, though, was he really far gone?  She carried the tea tray in to set it on the table by the sofa, and John followed docilely behind her.  She poured the cups and handed him one, hoping he wouldn’t end up spilling it all over the furniture or himself.

“Did you have a nice evening, John?”

He set his teacup down and leaned over and kissed her again, exploring her mouth with lips and tongue, setting fire to her senses.  His hands touched her breasts and she arched her back, pushing more of her flesh into contact with his grasping fingers.  He seemed to draw back, though, just when she was craving more.

“John, is everything all right?”

“Shhhhh......”

“Shhhhh?”

He nodded, his eyes half closed, a slow smile coming to his lips.  “Yeah, shhhhh.  I’m s’posed ta be quiet an’ gentle, Stu tol’ me.  I’m tryin’ not ta scare ya,” he whispered.

His words were slurred, and she wondered again how well he’d be able to perform tonight.  Perhaps she should simply roll him into bed and encourage him to sleep?

***

 John wasn’t quite as drunk as he knew it seemed.  He was definitely feeling no pain, Scotch and Cokes were a lot more potent than lagers!  And Paulie’d had a bundle of cash and hadn’t minded spending it!  But John knew he wasn’t completely pissed.  Not completely.  Close, though.

Truth was, he was a bit scared, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.  Stuart had just kept after him and after him, telling him to be gentle with the bird, and John was worried that he’d not be gentle enough and would scare the girl, and she’d had enough of a scare already.  He knew he’d never forget the evening sitting on the floor outside her loo, how furious he’d been when she’d spilled out her tale to Stu.  When she’d started crying, he’d wanted to be the one to be holding her, comforting her; he’d nearly felt jealous of his mate over that!  He’d also been ready to smash that Theodore’s face in, and not stop bashing him until the bastard was a bloody pulp.  He didn’t want Sharon to be afraid any more, and he never wanted her to be afraid of him like that!  Yeah, it might have been nearly two weeks since her fright, and she was getting better, but she’d had that shadow of fear in her eyes nearly the entire time, and even this evening, when he’d been kissing her, she’d started to flinch away from him.  He was being too rough, but he wasn’t quite sure how he could be any gentler!

What had Stu said last week?  John tried to focus his alcohol-hazed thoughts.  Right, he’d said ‘let the girl take the lead’, or something like that.  Problem was, she wasn’t leading fast enough, and John wanted her right now.  He couldn’t wait to feel her heat, touch her depths, have her clutching him so tightly when he got her off, oh God, that was heaven on earth, wasn’t it just?  He’d been thinking ‘bout it ever since their single night together, and he’d been desperate to repeat the adventure.

He helped Sharon unfold her bed and waited for her when she went into the loo.  He switched on the radio and twirled the dial until he found some music, turned when he heard her coming back into the little living area.  She was wearing a silky little robe that seemed to cling to her curves in an outrageously delicious manner, and he swallowed nervously.  Oh, Christ, he wanted it bad, but he was so afraid of scaring her.  He couldn’t do this, could he?

***

Sharon brushed hair and teeth and put on her robe.  Oh, John hadn’t half hit the sauce, had he?  It had been thoughtful of him to say he was trying to be gentle, though, he was a very sweet lad despite his current state of drunkenness.  And to think that Stuart had talked to him about being gentle and not scaring her…… well, that Stuart lad was a definite charmer, and she thought that the girl of his dreams had better be good to the boy!  If not, Sharon would have a thing or two to say about it!  The lad deserved a wonderful soul mate, and she hoped again that his ruling passion would allow it.  She had a laugh at herself for feeling so protective of the boy, but there it was, she was very fond of him; she nearly felt he’d given her back a part of her life that had gone missing when Theodore…...  No, stop thinking of that, it’s in the past and p’rhaps he’d take the hint she’d given him and would stay away from her from now on.  Sharon shook her head and turned her thoughts aside again; she’d not be one to dwell on the past, it was the present and the future that was important.  Nothing would change the past.

She eyed John as she came out of the loo and switched off the radio.  Well, she’d have to hope for some fun and games sometime in the future, but it didn’t appear he’d be capable at present!  She really couldn’t put off her bedtime, it was getting quite late and tomorrow was Monday, time to return to the bump and grind of the club, then the café work in the afternoons and evenings.  Because of the constant work, her nest egg was growing nicely and she was happy with the money she’d been able to save for her old age.  So she couldn’t begrudge the coming Monday, even though the weekend had seemed to fly past.

When John stumbled over to the closet and started making a mess of pulling out blankets and pillow, she stopped him by force, led him to the bed and sat him down at the edge of it.  She got him out of his shoes and shirt, made him stand up to undo his trousers and then tugged them off him.  Well, he was showing definite evidence of excitement, but he wasn’t really in any condition for loving tonight!  She did as she’d thought she’d have to, rolled him into bed in his briefs and socks, then threw the covers over him, crawling in beside him and enjoying the warmth beside her as she drifted off to sleep. 

P’rhaps he’d feel more himself in the morning.

***

John lay rigidly still, barely breathing.  When she’d stopped him from getting the blankets out and had started to undress him, he’d thought he’d be re-living his fantasies in bare moments.  But she’d just put him to bed, crawled in beside him and settled down for the night.  He lay awake, wishing he could take her gently and have her react the way she’d done before; she’d loved it, like no bird he’d ever had!  To have her be afraid of it like this nearly broke his heart.  But at least he was in the bed with her!  That meant something, didn’t it? 

His fogged brain wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he knew it had to mean something! 

After a long period of sleepless stillness, he cautiously edged closer to her, drawn there by her warmth and the light honeysuckle scent he was so craving.  P’rhaps he could…… no, no, he thought fuzzily, gotta be gentle with her, mustn’t scare the bird.  His hands were not listening to his brain, however, and neither was another more urgent piece of his anatomy! 

Moving of their own volition, his hands began a gentle exploration of her body, and his breath caught in his throat as they caressed her breasts, the nipples growing hard beneath his fingers, the very touch making him tingle and throb with desire.  He pushed the covers back, pushed her silky robe aside and put his lips to her breast, closing his eyes in enjoyment as he gently sucked the hard little button into his mouth, trying to restrain his urgency, but it was bloody difficult! 

His hands continued their exploration, his fingers waywardly going on their journey to touch ribs and belly and thighs, moving closer and closer to her centre.  When she moved, he stopped and held still, breathless, until he was certain she wasn’t going to move again, then began the slow exploration again.  That was close, she’d nearly woken up!

His breath was ragged with longing when he finally reached that hot little juncture between her legs, felt the soft curls against his fingers, inched further towards his goal.  He expelled a held breath with care when his fingers touched heat and moisture, began to move them over her flesh slowly, deliciously, delicately, searching for the right spot.  Oh, God, she was so hot, he wanted to feel that blessed heat engulf him and take him to heaven.  His fingers continued their work, moving a bit faster as they told his foggy brain that she was reacting to his touch, her tissues swelling with desire.  She sighed in her sleep and shifted position; he held still, unmoving, holding his breath.

His alcohol-fogged brain told him that if he could keep her from waking, she couldn’t be scared, right?  Right!

***

Sharon gradually came awake to a lovely pressure at her breast, oh, his lips felt marvelous, his touch was tender and sweet, and she was bursting with desire.  When his fingers began their slow exploration, she was hard pressed to keep from throwing off the covers and telling him to quit teasing her, she wanted him now!  But when she moved a bit, he’d stopped completely, leaving her near trembling with desire.  He’d better not take her halfway there and not complete the job, she thought furiously!

Barely awake, she settled back again and pretended to be asleep.  Sure enough, his fingers began their rhythmical stroking again, and she nearly purred at how good it felt.  Oh, yes, just…… like…… that……!  He was so sweetly solicitous and gentle, and it felt simply wonderful.  The shudders coursed through her as the peak approached and she moaned softly, cursing herself when he stopped.

“Please don’t stop,” she breathed, near agony, she was so close.

The silence and the stillness was profound, then a whisper in the darkness.

“Awright.”

That was all, but the fingers began moving again and she sighed, felt the shivers grow, felt his lips reclaim her breast as the delight coursed through her, the fingers on her fanny and the lips on her breast combining to take her to the heights of pleasure.  When the tremors finally died down, she sensed his hesitancy and took the lead, still half-asleep, urging him to cover her and welcoming him into her heat when he took position.  Oh, yes, that was perfect, oh, yes!  He felt so good, filling her like this, so hot and rigid, so eager, the movements strong and forceful……

Wait, no, wait, that wasn’t perfect, no!  Suddenly wide-awake as the realization struck her, she pushed at him in a panic.

“John, John, stop, please stop!  Stop it, lad!”

***

When she tugged him over her, he thanked his lucky stars, he was hurting, absolutely desperate for this!  Oh, God, she felt so good, the heat and moisture welcoming him to her depths, the tightness and friction urging him on.  It was difficult to keep it gentle, difficult to go slow, he wanted to pound into her with all the force it took him to reach his own peak, wanted to hurry it, yet wanted to enjoy the journey as well.  Oh, yeah, almost there, the tension rising and drawing up in preparation for an explosive zenith, almost there……

She suddenly twisted underneath him, gasping.  “John, John, stop, please stop!  Stop it, lad!”

He groaned, his body wasn’t listening and he was so freaking close, and she wanted him to stop?!?  Now?!?  Christ, what was the problem?  He tried to stop, gasping for breath, so close he was nearly there.  God, she felt so good, so hot and wet and deep, he was almost there, oh, sweet Jesus……

“What?” he gasped.  Had she gotten scared?  Christ, he’d thought she’d been enjoying it, hadn’t he been gentle enough?

“Condom!” she gasped back.  “Oh, God, John, you don’t have a condom on!  I can’t…… Oh God, John, stop, stop!”

“Ahhhhhhhh……”, John groaned, somehow recognizing the urgency in her voice although the words didn’t really sink into his head.  He tried to hold still, panting for air, trying to find a vestige of control buried deep inside that would enable him to hold his approaching climax off.  No, he couldn’t, he was too close and she was clutching him too tightly, out of shock or fear or whatever, but God, it felt too good and he recognized the signs, he was gonna spill right now!  He pulled out of her heat and depth barely in time, the cool air shocking him but not diminishing the force of his resulting climax as his hands automatically finished the job, spattering the girl, her nightclothes and the sheets.  He moaned and twitched through it and then collapsed onto the bed at her side.

“Sorry, luv, too close ta stop,” he panted breathlessly.  No wonder she’d felt so hot, he hadn’t a bloody rubber between them cutting off the feeling, oh God, that had been incredible!  Just the thought of skin on skin like that was enough to start the excitement again, she’d been so hot, oh yeah, that had been fabulous……

***

“You stupid, bloody, miserable swine,” Sharon swore, sitting up in bed and reaching for the box of tissues to clean up the mess he’d made. 

She switched on the light and glared at him as she applied the tissues with violence, swearing at herself as well; she was as sincerely angry with herself as she was with him, it was as much her fault as his!  Mother of God, what had they almost done?  What bloody fools they’d nearly been, simply because she’d been sleep fogged and he’d been hazed with drink!  She focused her attention and counted days desperately, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized there was only a slim chance of pregnancy.  Still, a slim chance was more of a chance than she cared to take!

Relief was heady, and she looked over at her bedmate; he lay rigidly still and silent, looking somewhat stunned by her outburst.  She shook her head and lay back down, neatly avoiding the damp areas on the sheets.

“I’m sorry, Sharon, I’ll marry ya if ya fall preggers,” John promised, wide eyed and utterly sincere.

His announcement was so innocent, and stated with all the sincerity a drunken boy could muster, that her giggles started up and led to full fledged laughter before long, partly due to relief and partly due to sheer humour.  The fact that he continued to look at her with a quizzical expression only urged her on.  When her laughter finally died down, she moved closer and hugged him in affectionate forgiveness.

“I think we’re both very lucky tonight, lad.  But if it comes to pass, I promise you that I won’t forget your offer; I just wonder if you’ll remember it!  Seriously, though, I don’t care to marry again, John, and I certainly don’t want a pregnancy at my age.  So listen to me very, very carefully, boy.  Do.  Not.  Ever.  Do.  That.  Again.  Do you understand me?  If you’re not wearing a raincoat, don’t even consider coming out to play, no matter what.  Have you got that into your drunken brain?”

He nodded vigorously, but she thought she’d better reinforce her ultimatum when he was sober.  She checked the little drawer in the end table and pulled out a wrapped condom, held it up for him to see.

“Now…… let’s start again, and let’s do it right this time.”

She leaned over him, kissed him thoroughly and ensured his reaction, then took care to make certain the condom was properly in place before going any further.  Such a lovely young boy with quick responses, and it appeared that his drunken state didn’t interfere with his lovemaking, thank God.  She proceeded to enjoy the remainder of the night, although she didn’t get a lot of sleep and the morning arrived far too quickly!

She opened her eyes with a moan, oh, dear, she’d overslept, hadn’t she?  She checked the clock and rushed through her morning toilette, checked the clock again and decided to skip breakfast.  She kissed the sleeping boy in her bed, wrote him a quick note, and then was out the door as quickly as possible.

***

John woke with a groan and rolled over without opening his eyes.  He reached out blindly and didn’t feel a body nearby.  He wondered where he was, he was lying on sheets that smelt clean, so he must not be in the flat he was sharing with Stu.  A faint honeysuckle fragrance reminded him, and he cracked his eyes open, looking about the flat and wondering where Sharon had got to.  He had only a vague memory of the night, but he thought they’d had some incredible sex.  Hadn’t they? 

There weren’t a lot of places the bird could hide in a tiny bedsit like this, so he staggered to his feet and went down the little hallway to the loo, she wasn’t there either, but he availed himself of the water and tried to wake himself up.   When enough cold water had splashed in his face that he could open his eyes a bit more, he wandered back out and looked around, scratching himself and yawning.  He squinted at the clock.  Well, his first class was already over and the second would be starting in minutes, so much for going to the college today, not that he really cared!  He padded barefoot and naked into the little kitchen and noticed a letter on the counter, picked it up and held it close for a read.

   “Dear John, I didn’t want to wake you, but

   I had to rush to work.  Please help yourself 

   to breakfast and lock up when you leave. 

   Thank you for a lovely evening, but if you

   don’t remember what happened, I’ll give

   you a little advice. (Please turn page over)”

Puzzled, John turned the page over.  She’d continued her note on the back, all in upper case letters and underlined three times with a violence that had nearly caused the nib to go through the paper.

   “DON’T FORGET YOUR BLOODY

   RAINCOAT WHEN YOU WANT TO

   COME OVER AND PLAY!!!! 

   Fondly, Sharon”

He chuckled at her note as memories started to trickle in, growing aroused as he remembered how it had felt without anything between them, God, that had been bloody fantastic!  He was happy that she was feeling better, even if he didn’t remember everything of what had happened.  Trying to ignore his morning woody, John put the kettle on and looked around for something to fix for breakfast.

He was in the middle of toast and fried eggs when he remembered he’d told Sharon he’d marry her if she happened to fall preggers.  What had her reply been?  He wracked his brain but couldn’t pull it from his memory.  Desire quickly deflated and John began sweating.  And praying.

Much sobered, he washed the dishes and cleaned up the flat before letting himself out.

***

Sharon made a face as she cleaned up in the loo after her final dance.  Thank God she’d caught it early and thank God she’d heeded her inner voice and used a cloth for protection.  Her monthly was several days early, but it certainly eased her mind over any worries she’d had because of last night!  Oh, that really had been lovely, with nothing between them, so smooth and hot and…… 

She tried to turn off those thoughts, chiding herself; it would be several days before she’d be getting any more of that, so stop thinking of it!  And none of the skin-on-skin again, either, she’d make certain he used a condom, a scare was a good warning, and she’d been warned.  She’d warned John, too, but she wondered if he even remembered anything of the night, he’d certainly been feeling no pain!  But it had been lovely all the same and she looked forward to more.  She stopped in the dressing room and looked at herself in the mirror as she pulled on her stockings.

“What are you thinking, lassie, that there’s some kind of future with this boy?  Stop dreaming, Sharon,” she gently scolded her reflection.  “Enjoy it for what it is, and when it’s over, remember it as another lovely affair.”

Despite the cramps that caused her back to ache, she was in a good mood as Toby walked her to the café.

“Yer feelin’ better t’day, baby?” the club owner asked as they rounded the corner.

“Yes, Toby, thanks ever so much.  It’s been a comfort to have you or William and Leonard walk me to the café, and I hope you realize how very much I’ve appreciated it,” she replied, pausing at the entrance to the restaurant.  “The three of you have been ever so kind to me.”

“I ‘ope that bastard doesn’t come ‘round again, baby, but if ‘e does……”

Sharon felt uneasy with the turn the conversation had taken and she interrupted him before he could continue.

“Toby, I have to fly, I need to start work, I’ll see you tomorrow, thank you again.” 

She hesitated, then swiftly kissed him on the cheek and turned away to walk into the café.  She pretended not to notice him standing at the doorway for the next five minutes.  Dear Toby, the man wore his heart on his sleeve, didn’t he?  She was very fond of him, but he was no more the man for her than she was the woman for him.  She probably oughtn’t have kissed him like that, but he’d been so kind and she’d just thought to thank him.  She hoped it wouldn’t encourage him.

It was a long, long afternoon, and her feet and back were simply aching when the day was done.  She was pleasantly surprised to find John waiting for her when she got off work.  He looked a bit subdued, she wondered if he had a hangover?

“Well, hullo, lad, did you have a good day?  I’m happy to see you,” she told him.

“’evenin’, Sharon, yeah, it was awright.  Got t’gether with Paul an’ George an’ Stu, got a feller we’re gonna audition fer th’ band on Friday, fer th’ drummer position.  I think ‘e’s gonna work out ok, but we’re gonna be a bit rough ‘round th’ edges fer a bit ‘til ‘e gets up ta speed.”

“You’re put it off a little late, aren’t you?” she asked as they walked to the bus stop.  “When do you leave for Hamburg, young man?”

“A week from t’day”, John said shortly, shrugging, an irritated expression crossing his face.  “Well, ev’rybody else was already in a band, an’ Pete’s not workin’, so we don’t really ‘ave a choice.  ‘course, I tol’ th’ lads it’s gonna be brilliant, an’ it’s what I been plannin’ all along.”

“Quite the conniver, aren’t you?” she teased with a laugh.  “You simply put the best face on everything and convince them it was all ‘in the plan’, right?”

“Well……”

Sharon laughed again.  “You’re transparent to me, lad!  Look, here’s the bus.”

He continued to be somewhat subdued throughout the ride to her flat, and Sharon took care to keep her voice pitched low so as not to worsen his headache.  Well, the headache she assumed he had, anyway!

Back to the flat and fixing a kettle, she asked, “Can I fix you anything to eat?”

“No, ta, ‘ad some chips an’ pie at Mim’s.”

“Oh, who’s that, a girlfriend?”

Laughter greeted her question.  “No, it’s me Auntie!  Me mum’s older sister.”

She smiled as she fixed the tea and carried the tea tray in to the sofa.  John switched on the radio and fiddled with it until he got a station to his liking.

“That’s Elvis,” he said admiringly, sitting beside her and putting his arm around her in an affectionate hug.

She snuggled against him, enjoying his body heat against her side, and they listened to the radio and sipped their tea.  She let him kiss her, but when he began to grow passionate, she thought she’d better nip this in the bud, and pulled away from him.

“Sorry, lad, I’m indisposed for a few days,” she said briskly, standing and taking the tray into the kitchen.  This type of thing was always so difficult to talk about, she thought in irritation.  She was a grown woman, one would think she could say something like this without blushing, but there was still that ‘little girl’ part of her that cringed away from talking about intimate, personal information like this.

“Errrrr…… sorry?”

Oh dear, was the boy thick?  It was inconceivable that his girlfriends had never told him to leave them alone because of their monthlies!  What did they say nowadays?  Auntie Rose was visiting?  A ‘friend’ had come to call?  The road was up for repairs?  Bloody nonsense, the lot of it!

“I have my monthly,” she replied over her shoulder as she washed the cups, trying not to cringe at the baldly spoken words.

A peek towards the sofa revealed that he was blushing nearly as hotly as she was, and she started to laugh helplessly.  She dried her hands on the tea towel and came back to the sofa, still chuckling.  P’rhaps it helped a bit that he was embarrassed, too.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult to talk about things like that, do you?” she asked.

“Errrrr…… I dunno, jus’ never ‘ad any girl be as…… well, direct ’bout it before,” he admitted.  His face brightened.  “But…… that means yer not preggers from last night, right?”

“Right, we’re both lucky, young man.  We’ll have no more of that again, understand?”

He kissed her soundly, and she realized he was relieved.  Poor boy, he must have worried about it all day!

“Yeah, I read yer note,” he said after breaking the kiss.  “Gotta wear me raincoat when I come ta play.”

“But do you remember much of the night?” she teased, and laughed when his cheeks grew rosy again.  A yawn surprised her.  “Mmmm, I’m a bit tired, John, you didn’t let me have much sleep last night.  I think I’d better go to bed.”

He was so sweet, he helped her fold out her bed and make it for her night.  When he sat down to take his shoes off, she was startled.

“John, I …… I’m afraid I’m not……I think we talked about the fact that I’m indisposed, weren’t you listening, lad?” she asked.

He let out an explosive sigh, stood up and gripped her shoulders, looking her directly in the face with an earnest but irritated expression.  He shook her lightly.

“Sharon, luv, enough!”

She stared at him in confusion, what was he talking about?

John sighed again.  “Look, I been tryin’ not ta let it bother me, but it’s really startin’ ta get irritatin’.  Awright, Sharon, I unnerstand, I’m not thick, right, yer older than me.  I know it, ya don’t ‘ave ta keep beatin’ it inta me!”  He shook her lightly again, and she felt the restrained force he was employing.  “So stop with callin’ me lad an’ young man.  I can hear it in yer voice, ya don’t say it, but yer probably thinkin’ boy.  I’m no bloody boy, Sharon,” he said quietly and emphatically, looking her directly in the eye.  “I’m a man.  Ya been enjoyin’ me as a man, ya better start thinkin’ o’ me as a man, too.  If ya call me ‘lad’ one more time, I might...... I dunno, I might ‘ave ta leave or I could end up slappin’ ya!” he added with a slight smile.

She didn’t know what to say; he was right on the mark, wasn’t he?  His expression was irritated, but she could tell he was holding onto his temper with determination, trying to keep a sense of humour about it.

“An’ as far as ya bein’ indisposed, I know that, too, ya tol’ me.  Thought maybe ya could use a backrub, or a hot water bottle.  Guess I should ask first, sorry.  Errrr, thought I’d stay t’night, if it’s awright?”

She escaped to the loo in surprise over his offer and comments, thinking about his words as she prepared for bed.  She normally slept in the raw when she had a man visiting her, and hadn’t had a man in her bed when visited by her ‘friend’ since she’d been married, so she put on her robe and crawled into bed feeling a bit awkward and unsure of herself.  John went to the kitchen and used the remainder of the water in the kettle to fill a hot water bottle and then came back to bed bearing the gift.  He was sweetly solicitous of her, apparently putting his irritation behind him.  He rubbed her back until she was nearly drifting off to sleep, then curled up around her as if they were spoons, with his heat warming her back so nicely and the hot water bottle warm against her belly.  She couldn’t miss the evidence of his arousal, but he never said a word, never appeared to expect anything from her, and she had to blink back tears at the boy’s thoughtful treatment of her.

No, that wasn’t right.  She had to blink back tears at the man’s thoughtful treatment of her.

Go Read Part Five!

C.A.Jones is a long-time fan of The Beatles, but was never lucky enough to see them together in concert. An avid reader since childhood, C.A. only recently tried her hand at writing and now has another hobby with which she consumes her all-too-little spare time. She lives in the Western United States with husband and pets and computers.