“You seem such a great guy, Ray, and it’s really easy, really relaxing to hang out with you.” Thus had Neely attempted to initiate a serious chat over nachos in the Watershed Arts Centre’s café before they went in to see their arty Swedish vampire movie. It was easy to be with him, although not relaxing in every sense. Her stomach was inevitably tight in his presence.

He’d leant across the table, totally focused on her. His long eye-lashes were blond-tipped and his eyes that rather steely grey-blue—she could summon up the image in bed at night. “Is there a ‘but’ hovering in the air here?” She went to answer, but he got in before her. “You’re committed to the church, and I’ve got no religious or spiritual beliefs worth talking about. So you’re thinking, ‘Is there any real point in pursuing anything beyond friendship, however well we might seem to get along initially?’ Am I right?”

Her exact sentiments, stolen from her before she could even express them. “Well, I might have phrased it something like that.”

She had put a lot of effort into looking like she had put in just so much effort and no more. Trendy-sexy, but not too sexy. Jeans and cowboy boots, a slightly distressed black-leather coat and a bright blue Paisley-patterned neck scarf, the paler-blue ruffled shirt with its two buttons undone. Enough so her Claddagh necklace could be seen dangling discreetly between the very beginnings of her cleavage. Yes, God gave me breasts and they’re impressive in a subtle kind of way, but I don’t go flaunting them. Oh, and a hint of make-up.

Heavens, she shouldn’t allow her appearance to matter so much to her. But there he was, looking sharp and metrosexual yet utterly masculine, in a dark linen suit and open-necked shirt, that strong clean-shaven chin tilted back slightly as he eyed her and responded.

“It would have made total sense if you had said that. I think the wiser part of me probably agrees with it.” He paused, seeming to search for appropriate words. “Thing is, Neely, you’re not like anyone else I’ve dated. You’re committed to something beyond yourself or even those closest to you. You’ve got an integrity, a … a sense of purpose—understated but strong nonetheless—which impresses me. It draws me. It’s …and look, shut me up if I’m going too far here …it’s intoxicating. I suppose there’s a kind of irony there. The aspects of you which attract me the most are the very ones which will no doubt make you say ‘let’s be friends’.”

Whatever Neely had been expecting, this was not it. Any thoughts on the nature of their relationship expired in her throat. “Well, I haven’t told you that yet, have I?” she said without having meant to. The compromise made her thrill with excitement. He held her faltering glance and she reached for the nachos, trying not to stick her fingers in the salsa.

“I’ve no intention of messing with anything you believe,” he said. “I mean, tonight’s the first time we’ve been out properly. I don’t know what this is yet; I’m feeling my way. All I know is that it’s nice. It’s fun.”

“Yes, it is fun.”  She smiled, and her insides were strangely warmed. “We’re having fun, what the hell’s wrong with that?” She broke into a full beam. “So let’s relax and have fun, for crying out loud.”

They did, as they finished their meal and as they gasped and laughed through their sophisticated horror flick. It was all so unproblematic now. Until, that was, when they kissed again at date’s end.

It happened more easily than the first time. There had been that nagging concern in Neely’s mind as they travelled back to the drop-off point, how the moment would play out. On arrival, however, it happened spontaneously mid-sentence (she’d been critiquing the vampire genre and comparing their appeal to that of werewolves), her mouth suddenly adhering to his. She could not say for sure who had moved first. Maybe it had been her, prompted by the lightest of touches on her arm. It seemed natural to be stroking his tongue with hers, letting the wet, rhythmic union of their mouths deepen and intensify.

A few coffee interludes and a stroll through the park saw nothing more than some coy hand-holding, but each touch sent mini-shocks via her spine all around her body. He treated her as his equal, yet never since the day before her twentieth birthday had she felt so teenage. The paradox only increased on their picnic date—wet-mouthed contact longer this time, exploration of hands on each other’s face, neck and back, bolder and more lingering. His upper body’s coiled strength was more tangible, the gravitational force of that body upon hers more insistent. Their late-evening farewell undermined the integrity of what she had professed that afternoon in bright sunshine, over champagne and mixed berries …

To be the subject of an interview on modern Christianity for Ray’s article in which she discussed her stance on pre-marital celibacy, what a good idea that had seemed. She’d hoped to lay down some ground-rules regarding their emerging friendship, more for herself than for this guy who treated her with such spotless respect. So she lay on the picnic rug in slim-fit jeans and a tie-dyed vest not too plunging. She strove to sound nonchalant, a girl at peace with her lifestyle choices.

“Sexuality’s important. So important.” Tippling on the Moet Chandon, as she weighed her words. He was taking notes and she wanted to be at least semi-articulate. “It’s a key facet of our natures and a beautiful one, but it sometimes threatens to kind of consume every other aspect and cause loads of pain and mayhem as a result. Ideally—and I suppose I’m an idealist—it’s something that should grow and be expressed in balance with everything else. Cherished and nurtured, but only as the two people experiencing it grow into a full commitment to each other. Does that make sense?”

“A surprising lot of sense.” He let the tape-recorder run. “It’s uncanny. You make me rethink issues I haven’t given consideration in years. If ever. My own experience, my own behaviour, is so far from yours. I’ve treated sex like another appetite to be sated right from my teens. When I meet someone I’m attracted to, I normally … you know … take and enjoy.” He said it wistfully, with a tinge of regret, but it still caused Neely’s heart to speed up. “And because I flatter myself by thinking that my partners have enjoyed as well, I assume it’s okay. Do you think I’m a terrible sinner, Neely?”

“What? Sorry? Gosh, no.” Neely had been distracted by the thought of how intensely Ray’s former partners might have ‘enjoyed’. It gave her an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. “No, you’re not doing anything earth-shatteringly awful, you’re pursuing pleasure, I suppose. For its own sake.” It occurred to her that there might be a whole lot of pleasure to be had with Ray and the realisation stung that others had experienced what for her was completely off-limits. “When maybe,” she concluded with rather a struggle, “there’s something deeper you could be experiencing. At least that’s what I believe …” she tailed off. Dear God, even saying what she just had sounded like an attempt to land him as a steady boyfriend.

“You make it sound very convincing. I’m not sure whether it’s the idea itself or the fact that it’s you expressing it. All of which fills me with very conflicting feelings.”

Me too, Neely thought miserably. Me too.

The conflict returned later that day on the plush seats of his car, when it struck her what a sexually experienced male she had in her arms.  Make that between her legs, so closely crushed were they, her thighs splayed by the thrust of his knees. As chemicals fired in her brain and blood stormed to key regions of her anatomy, she could well imagine the physical effect their embrace was having on him. She desperately tried not to, however.

“Look, Neely,” he said, holding her fresh from their lips’ caress, “this is all new to me.” He sounded short of breath, striving to marshal his thoughts. “I’m sure you’ve guessed how I’m used to behaving in situations like this. Not in any very restrained fashion. Not very Christian. I generally act on my instincts. But …” He sounded curiously abashed and she gave him a reassuring squeeze, touched and stirred-up by his confession. “… I want to be clear that I’m trying not to do that here. I’m not hoping or intending to overwhelm you with passion or anything like that.” He added hastily, “And it’s not because I don’t want to, Neely, trust me on that. I find you immensely attractive and very, very sexy. Fact.” He said it with a slight smile, as though to draw some of the words’ intensity. It did not altogether work. Neely’s resolve was almost tangibly shaken by the declaration.

“I’m glad,” she said after a lengthy pause. “And I know you’re not planning on … on jumping me, I appreciate that.” The fact that his stated intention was not to jump her made part of her wish he would. She regretted having chosen that particular verb. It suggested such a thrillingly spontaneous outburst of sexual energy.

Then on official date number three, he did jump her. Kind of.

The all-important third date, Jasmine would have called it. With everything that ensued. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Neely,” the exotic imp would say with a smile. “Those butterflies in the pit of your stomach, because you know that tonight he’s going to try, and that you’re going to let him.”

“Well, he’s not and I’m not,” Neely had responded on this most recent occasion, trying to come off as not-too-pious.

“He’s not one of your church guys. As long as he knows the score … You sure he’ll not be expecting any Neely-love tonight?”

“We’ve talked about it, Jaz. He’s cool with it.”

“If you say so. But I wonder how cool he can be with you looking so damn hot.”

Neely accepted the compliment and laughed off the rest. Jasmine always dressed sexily; she was glad her friend didn’t think she was hiding her light (to misappropriate Holy Scripture) under a bushel. It was wonderful how effectively the right fit of slacks and a simple blouse could show off a girl’s figure on an evening out with a new friend.

“Coffee?” Neely asked after an evening of pub snacks and live rock. She and Ray shared a smile.

“With anyone else, I’d assume that was a euphemism, but I’m guessing you do have some really good coffee in the larder.”

“Java. With Biscotti biscuits, because I’m classy like that. Although my salary can ill afford such luxuries, let me tell you.”

“I’ll drink with due respect and appreciation,” he assured her as they went inside.

“Make sure you do.” She hoped her lightness of tone disguised her excitement at inviting a self-confessed hedonist into her home late at night.

They relaxed into Neely’s living-room sofa with mugs of non-euphemistic coffee and he expressed amusement that she should enjoy a band called The Devil’s Rejects.

“I’ve got time for the most stubborn of sinners if they play well,” she explained. “And those guys did.”

“Maybe I should learn to play in that case. Then you might look at me the way you did at the lead guitarist.”

“How did I look at him? That’s so unfair!”

“Never thought you’d go for the bad-boy rock type. All leather and hair and tattoos.”

“I thought he was talented, is all!” She swatted him playfully.

“Maybe I should rethink my image a little.”

“Don’t even go there. I like you as you are. Besides, you’ve got words, Mr Hotshot Journalist. Beautiful words.”

She set aside her mug and stroked his face. He deposited his own mug on the coffee table, drawing her to him and kissing her fully. Her mouth responded and they sank deeper into the sofa, wrapped together. His hands were gripping her upper body; she could feel the clutch of his fingers through her blouse’s thin cotton. Then his mouth progressed to her neck, one hand rising to cradle her jaw. Her head rolled back involuntarily, allowing his mouth easier access; it was hot and tender on the lower curve of her neck and it robbed her of breath.

She was aware, acutely so, of his body close to hers, of the hard muscles that flexed in his arms as he held her. Passion was channelling to her through his lips—experienced lips that knew how to caress a girl’s skin. Experienced. The word stuck with her as he gently mussed her hair and came up to kiss her mouth again.

This man was experienced in who knew what carnal activities. Sofa-canoodling wasn’t an end in itself to him, some expression of fondness between two people who knew when to slow down and put on a DVD. To Ray, it was an avenue leading to vistas of writhing, naked delight. However noble he was being, however restrained, his body was telling him to embark on that journey right now—and he did the warm-up part so much better than deejay Brian ever had. He would be good to his word though, right? She could enjoy making out some more without it getting out of control, surely.

Neely let her lips stray from Ray’s, along his clean-shaven jaw, till she could press them to the hollow under his ear. Even after all her protestations of virtue, the temptation was there to bite on his lobe. She resisted. He was gasping at her light oral explorations and she couldn’t help but love the reaction. His fingers continued to weave among the thick tresses of her hair, then one hand moved to her waist, brushing the collar and buttoned-front of her blouse along the way. His palm kneaded her middle very gently and she was glad she had maintained a trim figure. Her shirt had come free of her jeans and she gasped at his finger tracing a circle on her bare skin.

Her legs were curled on the sofa and as Ray’s solid frame pressed against them, she was sure she would lose circulation on the left. She shifted towards him and ended up kneeling with her legs on either side, his hands still clutching her. Her instinct was to shift somewhere less intimate, less dangerous, but the risk of looking a clumsy adolescent stopped her. She leaned in and kissed him again, made it look like she’d intended the move. The angle was awkward and he responded by taking her waist and guiding her towards him, till she was seated squarely in his lap.

Their jean-clad groins pressed close and there it was—what she had tried not to think of during all their making-out. The robustness of his arousal, all that blood pumping to his manhood on a biological imperative, as they grappled each other so close. Then her own physiology—heat rising in her, moisture leaking from her sex to soak through her panty-lace, getting her all ready, whether her conscious mind objected or not, for what was going on inside his pants. High school human-biology came vividly to life like never before in her not-quite-twenty-five years. Vagina and penis were textbook words; this was wet pussy and hard cock, prevented by a few thin layers of fabric from locking in tight throbbing union.

It must have been something in her eyes that made him do it. He gripped the side of her face, drew her mouth again to his and kissed harder than ever before, tongue invading. His other hand seized her breast, claimed it, moulded it. He broke from her mouth and kissed her throat, palm squeezing on the soft flesh of her tit through blouse and gauzy brassiere, compressing her engorged nipple. And his pelvis was moving too, thrusting back and forth so that she was dry-riding him, feeling how big he was—big like one of the guys in Jasmine’s book.

The moment terrified her. It set her heart thumping with its unexpected fierceness. “Ray … Ray …” It came out a panicked squeak.

He gauged her reaction instantly. Pelvis stopped mid-grind and hands fell away, sudden mortification registering in his face. “Shit … Sorry, Neely, I’m so sorry.” Then “Fuck! I didn’t mean that; I didn’t mean it to happen, I swear.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Hands reassuring on his face. “I know, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, so damned sorry.” 

She extricated herself from her compromised position but kept her hands on him, so stricken did he seem with guilt. She was aroused and ashamed of herself, but touched as well by the sudden contrition of this powerfully sexual male. He almost cringed under her touch. “It’s all right, Ray, I know it just happened.”

“It’s not all right.” He was moving away from her, shifting to accommodate the great erection in his trousers, a clenched hand pressed to his forehead. “I told you I wouldn’t act like that, I fucking promised you.”

“I know, and I know you didn’t intend to.”

“You’ve told me from the day we met and I said I understood and then I … I totally disrespected that. Disrespected you and everything you’ve told me about yourself.”

She gripped his shoulders, held him side-on till his breathing had calmed and the emotion had ebbed from them both. His hands stayed resting in his lap as though he dared not touch her in return. “Okay, so maybe you did. But I understand.” She tried to jaunt him out of his pained mood. “You know, what with me being so hot and everything?” He looked around at her and saw her smiling, then he smiled too and she saw relief in his eyes.

“Thing is, you are,” he told her. “Not only the way you look, which, incidentally, is damned gorgeous.” If the redness had left her face, it returned full-on at that point. “It’s the way you are. Your principles, your commitment to what you’ve chosen—to your job, the kids at your church … Those things should probably calm me down, make me less inclined to do what I did, but they don’t. They intensify it. They make you more attractive to me. It’s … It’s … I …”

He took a moment to calm himself, to say what he wanted as coolly as possible. “Neely, okay—I  want to make love to you. That’s not a request, it’s a statement of fact. And I know what you’re probably thinking. ‘He wants to have sex with every woman he dates, so that’s no big deal.’ And to a point that’s true—I mean, I like sex, I enjoy sex, I … I love it. There, I’ve said it. But with you, it’s more. I need you to believe that.” His gaze arrested her amid the whirl of thoughts stirred up by his sex-declaration. “That I think you’re this vibrant, intelligent, spirited person, warm and funny and … and good-hearted, and more sexy than you know. And I suppose I want to be close to all that. Physically close. Intimately, physically close. And for a second I let that impulse get the better of me.” His words ran to a stop and he looked abashed. “Look, it won’t happen again. I’d better go.”

He had risen from the sofa and was grabbing his jacket before Neely had a chance to react. She rose and went to him, stalling his move towards the door. “Ray, it’s okay. I’m flattered. I’m so, so flattered, and you know I want what you want. You know I feel it too, right? Only I can’t express it. Not in that way. Tell me you understand.” She held both his hands and pleaded with her eyes.

“Of course I do.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Look, I really had better go.”

They bumped into a newly arrived Jasmine at the front door. “Hey,” her roommate said cheerily. Neely was still reeling from the actions and words of the past few moments.

“Eh, this is Jasmine. Jasmine, Ray. You saw him that day at the café.”

“I remember. Nice to meet you, Ray. I keep hearing about you. Maybe Neely’s going to stop hiding you away.” She beamed at them both, clearly enchanted by their being together, then picked up on Neely’s discomfort. “Sorry, I’m interrupting. See you again, Ray.”

Jasmine having disappeared indoors, Neely and Ray said uneasy goodnights. “I don’t want you to be upset about tonight,” she assured.

“Are we okay, you and me?”

“Yes, yes, we are. We can … We can do something next week, go bowling or … or … something.” Bowling. Crap, it sounded like she was angling for a safe date. Which was totally the case.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be fun.” It sounded like he meant it. That he was relieved he was going to see her again. “Look, Neely, I’ll call you. Soon. Bye.” He returned her earlier kiss on the cheek and was gone.

That had been one whole day ago. She swilled the last of the Merlot around her glass as she recalled the fraught scene, then drank it down, reaching automatically for the bottle. Small wonder she was so uptight that she had been so short with Jonas. It wasn’t her co-worker’s fault she had got herself into this bind. When she’d read from Jasmine’s tacky novel, it was Ray’s tumescent organ she’d been thinking of, not that of anyone called Deshane.

She’d not meant it to get that crazy. She’d never expected his hand exquisitely groping, his hardness grinding so insistently. But how could she blame him when she’d let it all unfold? When she’d experienced the same enjoyment? Sweet Lord, she was turning into Danny Woodward Mark Two—another sexual hypocrite ready to bring down shame on Alton Bridge. She’d be infamous like the maligned youth pastor. You remember that Neely Jordan? Preaching about celibacy and shagging some guy on the side? Why did Ray have to be so damned sweet to her? Why did she have to go and meet someone who …  

“Drinking alone? That’s never a good sign. Let me join you in a glass.” Jasmine had put her head around the door. She was back from her dinner-with-a-friend. “We ended up having a few Margaritas,” she said with a tipsy grin, settling her slim, petite self on Neely’s bed. She’d fetched a second wineglass from the kitchen and filled it well from the Merlot bottle. “What’s the matter, babe? You look all deep in thought.”

“Nothing.” Neely shook herself from the stupor which had descended. Way too much mental wrangling that evening. “Just winding down after work.”

“Bet you wish you were winding down with a certain someone.” Neely looked at Jasmine warily. She was in no frame of mind for girl-chat right now. “You’ve got sexy Ray on your mind, I can tell,” her silk-haired friend pursued. “He got you in a kerfuffle last night, did he? You looked all hot and bothered at the door. What happened with you two? Come on, spill the juice.”

“There’s no juice to spill. I don’t have any … any juice.”

“What? Right now, you’ve got more juice than we serve in the café. You’re way juicy for this guy.”

“We’re friends.”

“Bullshit. Don’t even try that with me, girl. He made a move on you last night, didn’t he?” Jasmine was enjoying her pursuit of the truth. “What did you two get up to? Was it in here? No, it was the living-room. The sofa cushions were all messed up.”

“Nothing happened!”

“But he wanted it to happen.”

“Jaz …”

“And so did you. Go on, admit it. But then you showed him the door instead, right?”

“Jaz, please—”

“And now you’re sitting here all lonely, thinking about him.”

“You don’t know what I’m—”

“While he’s at his place thinking about you.”

“Jaz, I …” Neely’s protest drained away. “You think?” Something appealed undeniably about that thought.

“Neely, I know it. And I know exactly what he’s doing while he’s thinking.” Jasmine’s eyes glinted wickedly. “Party for one. Wishing the hot Christian girl was there to share in the lube-drenched festivities.”

“Jasmine!” The image in Neely’s mind was unbearable. “I don’t need that. Not right now. Look, Ray’s okay with the whole thing. He understands. He’s being very patient.”

“Yeah? Well, then he’s better than most guys.” Jasmine’s tone turned sharper. “Look, I’m sure he’s doing his best to be patient, Neely, ‘cos you’re one hell of a great girl and he obviously sees that. But he’s still a guy. He’ll be understanding for so long and then the frustration will get too much for him. I don’t want you to lose out because you can’t go with what you feel.”

“Jaz, it’s not as simple as that. This affects my faith. It runs to the very heart of what I believe. ‘Flee from youthful lusts and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace’.” She didn’t often quote Scripture to Jasmine. Things must be bad. “I can’t toss that aside because I fancy some guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your beliefs and your job at the church and doing what Jesus would do. It’s what you base your life on, I get it. Only, well … Come on, Neely, he’s so fucking hot!”

There was a pause between them before they burst into laughter together. Then Neely’s mobile buzzed. When she saw the incoming call was tagged ‘Ray’, her heart jumped like she’d been defibrillated.

“It’s him?” Neely nodded at her friend’s inquiry, staring at the phone with trepidation. “I’ll leave you to it.” Wineglass in hand, Jasmine absented herself, turning back to deliver a single parting thought. “Stop fleeing your ‘youthful lusts’, Neely. Start enjoying them.”

The remark scarcely registered. Neely held her mobile, like it might explode should she answer.

“So isn’t there anyone special over in Bristol you’re going to bring home to meet us?” her mother had asked on her most recent visit home.

Lord, there is someone special, but I can’t pursue anything with him, can I? I’m fooling myself. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m sorry, I’m being stupid and selfish about the whole thing and it’s not fair to Ray. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him now. Here goes.

“Ray, hi. I …”

“Hey there, beautiful.”

Three words took out Neely’s defences like a guided missile. “Hey there, you,” she managed, after a breathless pause. She sounded to herself like one of those soppy teenagers she counselled at the church regarding their latest crush.

“Sorry to call this late, I know Sunday’s kind of a big work day for you. Neely, I’m still feeling bad about overstepping the mark last night.”

“You didn’t. I mean … You … Look, it was both our doing. It’s …” Neely had no idea what was the right thing to say. Above all else, she wanted all to be good between them. “Forget about it.”

“Unlikely.” The words made her liquidise more than Deshane’s ravishing of Sapphire could ever have done. “So long as it’s cool.”

“It is. It is. It’s … It’s totally cool.”

“Hey, that bowling idea, you still up for that?”

A no-pressure date. No fraught sofa-interludes, just Ray’s sexy presence somewhere safe. “I’d love it.” They both laughed at her eagerness. “Hey, I’ll take you out, Mister. I’ve got some serious bowling form. You’d better watch yourself!”

“Got me scared already, girl.” There was a tenderness between them as he wrapped up the conversation to let her go rest. “Sweet dreams, Neely J.”

They would be, if she ever got to sleep. Which, short of masturbation, was unlikely. She would try very hard to resist.

“You too, Ray,” she said. “Sweet dreams.”

~~~~

 13/06/10  22:48 GMT

Carlotta—

All’s well. It seems last night’s gamble paid off and we’re firmly on track. Time to cool things for a while—but this girl’s cunt is wet and ready. It’s her conscience that needs over-riding. And that’ll happen by degrees.

—Ray

13/06/10  19:26 PST

Nice work, Ray. Glad to see you’re still in control of things, my cunning friend. I meant what I said—you nail hers, you can nail mine. Any nasty way you like. Keep the faith.

—Carlotta.

TO BE CONTINUED