The Neapolitan Question

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By the time I get out of the shower, the house is filling with the smell of fresh bread, which gets more intense as I descend the stairs.

'Janey, did you make bread?' I ask, as I turn the corner into the kitchen.

She swings round to see me, a big grin on her face, cheeks flushed from the oven.

'I did. I thought it'd be nice to have for breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever suits.'

While she busies herself, I watch her, thinking she looks the most energised I've seen her all this time. She looks great, actually. Proper colour in her.

It's already in the pit of my gut; the heat of anticipation and the chill of trepidation. I eye the kitchen table, thinking of what she'd look like laid out on it, until I give myself a good and sharp mental slap. When she turns back to me I'm praying my eyes aren't showing my thoughts as clearly as she saw them earlier.

'Honestly, I don't know what you're thinking about when you look like that, Frankie. Now -- do you want some of this bread for breakfast, or what?'

I grin. I like it that she's getting more like her old self.

'Bread, yes please.'

We take up our usual places around one end of the big farmhouse table, handing each other salt, honey and marmalade (we're both British, after all) as appropriate for the eggs and bread Janey's made for us. At one point she pushes a sheet of paper across to me.

'Look, I printed out the crossword. For later.'

'You've been busy.'

'Hm.' She smiles, looking down at her mug of tea. 'You know, I once saw a really good TV drama about the partnership between Margot Fonteyn and the much younger Rudolf Nureyev. There was always so much speculation about whether they ever had an affair or not. The ballet dancers, you know?'

She adds this presumably because she can see I don't have a clue who she's talking about. She hurries on.

'Well, anyway, the dramatisation was rather good. And came down on the side of them having an affair. But there's this scene where Frederick Ashton, the choreographer, is watching Fonteyn perform a really difficult solo -- really nailing it -- and says something like, "Look at that, he's fucked some life back into the old girl". And I've puzzled over it ever since. It seemed such a contradiction to me.'

I'm a bit lost with what's she's saying but adoring the way she's half covering her face up with one hand and blushing.

'But I think I understand now. It makes you feel so alive.'

She looks at me.

'What was the difference in their ages?' I ask, my question obviously left-field judging from the expression on Janey's face.

'Ah, about twenty years I think. About that.' She gives a small laugh. Self-conscious. 'Sorry. I'm rambling.'

I pull at her arm. 'Don't, Janey. I love seeing you like this. Don't hide it.' I pull at her again, and push my chair back, tugging at her to sit on my lap.

I mean, why not? I might not get many more chances to spend time with her like this. Maybe it'll all be over once we've consummated the full agreement. So to speak. I shy away from the thought, fighting the inevitability that this is just a short, sweet interlude.

She stands up but still hesitates until I grab her waist and pull her down onto me. I reach up and tuck her hair away from her face.

'You look lovely this morning, Janey.'

She squints at me.

'Ellie always said you were born a charmer. Even at nursery school you'd be giving the chocolate from your lunch to all the girls, so she said.'

I sit back, frustrated.

Maybe she misreads me, because she adds; 'You look alright yourself,' and runs a hand around the back of my neck.

Have I said how consistent I am? I fidget in the chair.

'You really like this?' she asks, tormenting me with her fingers, running them through my hair and behind my ears. It couldn't feel any better. I'm most definitely rising to the occasion.

'Every time,' I mutter, moving around again.

'Mm. I can see why this could get a bit addictive.'

'What?'

'Doing this. Seeing the way if affects someone so much; just a simple touch.'

I let myself meet her eyes, even though it feels like there might be danger there. She gives me a little smile.

'Does it work like this for you every time? Really?'

'It depends. I mean, if someone just randomly touches me -- then, no. Obviously not. But like this -- with someone I want to be with -- then, yes.'

'Your eyes really change, you know.'

I've heard this before, but I like having Janey so close, so I look interested.

'They change colour. Become so much more green.'

'An improvement on the usual mud colour then?'

'Isn't that called hazel?'

'I --,' and then halt, waylaid by the electric effect of her kisses on my throat.

And the tickle of her hair as it falls against my neck.

Everything, just everything. I love everything about the feel of her.

And sit back in the chair, overtaken by the sheer goodness of the feel of her; the weight of her on me; the fluttering of her kisses on my skin.

My heart practically stalls when her hands slip under my shirt, grazing the skin just above my shorts. I grunt, fighting the urge to throw her over my shoulder and head upstairs right now. This patience is going to kill me.

'Frankie, can I ask you something?'

I breathe out. 'Mmm?'

She hesitates.

'Out with it, Janey,' I laugh, biting it back as she sweeps a hand across my stomach again.

'What would your fantasy be, if you could have anything? Anyone?'

Her eyes are on high-beam again. Unavoidable. I'm trapped.

'Come on, you surely know?'

Time to leap in with both feet, then. 'This.'

'Oh my, you are good. This is how you charm all those girls.'

I shake my head, frowning. 'No.'

'No?'

'No. Jane you were my first fantasy, so this is pretty much it now.'

'Are you joking?'

'Nope.'

She squints at me, clearly not knowing if I'm having her on, or not. I bite at the inside of my mouth.

'You aren't joking, are you?' She sits back as if wanting to get a wider perspective. 'Well, that's -- um -- I hadn't a clue.'

'Of course not. I was just a kid to you. But as soon as I met you, that changed sort of overnight.'

'What? Really?'

'Really.'

She seems to shift back a few more inches on my lap, her face taking on a careful expression. I start to resign myself to this wonderful thing with Janey coming to an abrupt end. I've taken us outside of the boundaries of whatever she'd thought was happening between us. The silence yawns at me, while she appears to be taking stock and I'm left wondering what's going to happen next. The old kitchen clock whirs and the whine of a motorbike engine passes through the light morning air, on its way down the hill to the village. And still I wait, afraid to be the first to break the silence. To break the spell.

'I think I've been very unfair to you, Frank, and I want to say sorry,' she says, finally, her eyes intensely serious. 'Because this means more to you than I thought. Am I right?'

I feel fairly sure this is another rhetorical question, but she looks like she's expecting some sort of response, so I tip my head to one side, hoping that'll be sufficient. Waiting for the words that'll bring all this to a close.

'Frankie. Open your eyes.'

Said so softly. I jerk my eyes open; her face just a hand's width from mine.

'Frankie?'

I feel raw. Shockingly so. I squirm uncomfortably under her gaze. Flinch again when she touches my cheek with a hand.

'I thought you were just being sort of wonderful about it. So kind and thoughtful. And letting me believe I was the most alluring woman in the world. Just for this -- this --,' drawing a deep breath, 'for what I asked you to do. Whatever this is. Has been.'

My heart lurches painfully up and down as I try to follow what she's saying.

'But it makes more sense now.'

'What makes more sense?' I manage to blurt.

'This.'

And with that, she proceeds to give me one of those toe-curling, soul-stripping kisses that happen with just a select few. Maybe with just the one. Because that's what "all those women", to use Janey's phrase, have been about. Trying to find her. The one who can make me feel like this with just a kiss. Or a way of holding her hands over her face that makes my heart cringe with joy. Or eyes that give me nowhere to hide but seem to like what they see anyway. My skins crawls with the shock and the burn of it.

The recognition of it.

Of her.

Janey.

By the time we both need air, my hands are tight in her hair. I don't want to let go.

She drops her forehead to mine. Then raises it, a smile on her lips. And slips off my lap, reaching for my hand.

'Why don't we see where this might take us, Frank?'

I follow her lead, standing up, fervently hoping she's not planning on taking us anywhere public. But no, she pulls me out of the kitchen into the hall. Gives a sideways glance into the living room.

'You know, I didn't want to tidy up in there, to reassure myself last night really did happen,' she giggles, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

I've got her in my arms and halfway up the stairs before she's quite realised.

'Bloody hell, Frank, you weren't having me on about dragging me to your bed, were you?'

'Technically speaking, I think I'm carrying you, not dragging you.'

But I do take her to my bed. And fill my eyes with the sight of her laid out on it, hair streaking across the bright white pillows, stripes of light playing over her from the half-shuttered windows. She waits while I look; the first faint traces of that blush prettying up her neck and collarbones.

I shuck my clothes off. All of them. Abandon them in a pile on the floor and crawl up the bed, kneeling over her. Watching her reactions. Seeing how she feels about being pinned underneath a naked man; one who's unmistakably very excited to be here.

One slow brush of her hand over my neck; my cock twitches and starts to leak.

'So alive,' she murmurs, drifting her fingers along it.

It's as much as I can do to stay still, to let her explore me. To experience the almost unbearable lightness of her touch. The delicacy of her curiosity. Only when she finally wraps her hand around me, establishing a firmer grip, do I let myself groan. And open my mouth to accept the fingers she's pushing inside, sucking on them as she pulls harder on my cock with her other hand.

Well, fuck, if this isn't one of the most erotic moments of my life.

My cock's leaking so much it's drooling onto her pale dress -- too close already. And when she presses her thumb to my head it's almost game over. I pull back sharply and sit on my heels, concentrating with everything I have to stop myself from coming.

The bed moves under me as Jane writhes out of her dress, pulling it over her head, arms outstretched. Then working at her bra. Dropping it over the side of the bed onto the floor. As she's hooking her thumbs into her knickers, I join in, pulling them down her legs. These are a pale blue; a darker blue ribbon at the waist. I dismiss them to the floor too.

'Turn over.'

Just the slightest of hesitations, but she rolls over onto her front. And now I see the spray of moles over her back and hips I've been obsessing about ever since touching them yesterday. I circle each one with my fingers, then my tongue; Janey lifting and quivering at my contact. When I look up, she's clutching at the sheet with one hand, fingers of the other spread out stiff and wide.

I slide my hand between her legs. And lean in to kiss her shoulder, her neck, the side of her face; gliding my fingers through the slick heat of her, twisting and turning as she moves her legs wider. She gives a quiet moan.

'That's it Janey, tell me what feels good for you,' I whisper into her ear, feeling her shudder play down the length of her back.

She tilts her hips up; another deep shudder as we touch, my cock grazing against her; her spine rolling and curving underneath me. Oh-so tempting.

But no, not for the first time.

I press myself into her neck. A more urgent kiss. And a stroke around her waist, urging her to turn back to face me. She slides her legs together as she turns, reaching her arms around my back, pulling me down, pulling me into her kiss.

Her lips look tender and reddened when I ease back. Her eyes follow me as I move off the bed; dig around in the clothes piled on a chair until I find what we might need, and then back towards her.

'I didn't know if you'd --,'

'One of the miracles of Catholic Italy. A vending machine on every street corner. Nearly,' I grin, putting them on the table by the bed. 'It doesn't have to be now, today, but I'm just putting them ..... within reach.'

She nods, returning my smile. But some nerves there, too. Yes. Got to remind myself to take it slowly.

I slide myself down next to her.

'At risk of repeating myself, I don't want to do anything you're unsure of, or don't like.' I run my thumb slowly over her mouth. 'But you have to tell me, ok?'

She nods. So quiet.

'Say yes. Say you'll tell me, Janey?'

'Yes!' she gives a small laugh.

'You're so quiet, that's all.'

'I don't think I'm going to be a screamer, Frankie.'

Her belly ripples and shivers at my touch.

'Not asking for that, Jane. Just -- to give me some, umm, direction from time to time?'

She snorts, then coughs. I tuck her tighter to me.

'Direction? I don't know what I'm doing, Frank, you forget that.'

'But you've read all those sex education manuals. They must have given you some ideas,' I can't resist teasing her, before diving in for some more of her kisses.

And then, 'But I think you know what works for you, Janey. That's all I'm asking -- for you to show me when you're feeling good. That won't be too difficult will it?'

She shakes her head, then snorts again. Forces herself to say it aloud.

'No. That won't be too difficult, Frank,' she repeats my words obediently, catching her lip.

I have to laugh.

'I think I'm going to enjoy corrupting you,' I mouth into the quivering skin of her throat.

'Ha. A thirty five year old in need of corrupting. It's ridiculous,' she frets.

'Shh Janey, don't worry about that. There's nothing ridiculous about this,' as I trace my way from her mouth to her moles, ribs, and breasts. 'This is beautiful.'

And -- sometime later -- 'I think we're going to have a lot of fun getting you as corrupted as possible.'

I crawl back to share some of her own taste with her. Definitely no surprises for her there. But with her eyes open this time, I can read better how she's feeling. Good. Not quite in bliss. But getting there, I think.

I ease back, opening my mouth to ask, but instead she smiles, pre-empting me again.

'I feel good, Frank. What you're doing makes me feel really good.'

Her blush deepens. I grin a little to myself, loving how she finds it difficult to say it aloud, now she's getting beyond the theory and into the practical.

'You don't have to use complete sentences,' I lower my lips to her ear. 'Single words. Incoherent noises. Heavy breathing. Any of those do the trick, Jane.'

She giggles, her breath catching when she feels my fingers slip between her legs.

She trembles around my touch.

Curls into it, then presses against it, opening out, moving herself onto my hand.

Not until she lurches and traps my hand and wrist between her thighs do I realise what's happening. I watch as she bites down on her lower lip, eyes squeezed tight, her back arching and twisting. Sharp gasps escaping, the pulse at the base of her neck racing.

'Oh Janey,' I murmur, 'Janey.'

I kiss her, letting her low moan fill me up; one of the sexiest sounds I think I've ever heard.

Her eyes flick open.

'That was sudden,' she says, still catching her breath.

Then smiles. One of those gorgeous wide smiles that light up my world. I nearly groan at my own cliché, but it's true. It's what's been lighting up my world since I got here. For the whole nine days. Because I've been counting every one of them. The days. And the smiles.

'What are you thinking?'

I blink.

'Tell me.' Again, with the high beam.

'I love the way you smile like that,' I manage. 'It lights up -- uh -- everything.'

And blink again when she runs a hand along the side of my face.

'Such a dreamer, you are.'

'Hm.' I move my hand up to her belly, liking how it makes her tremble. 'At least you're talking, this time.'

'Don't make me apologise for that again,' she exclaims, her hand flitting in front of her face.

'Yeah. Bit unfair of me.'

And lower my mouth to her breast, unable to resist giving it a long lick. Her belly undulates under my hand. I look up at her.

'More of your circuitry connecting up, Janey?'

She nods, then more surely as I apply greater concentration to my efforts, using my hand to lift more of her to my mouth. Definitely more of a reaction than yesterday. Her ribcage rises and falls, then arches upward. I lift my head. She's reaching out with one arm, as though searching for something. Then brings it down, pressing against my chest.

I look. Raise my eyebrow.

'Sure?'

She sighs. Nods.

'I want to. I want you to -- fuck me, Frankie.'

Said so quietly and deliberately, it brings me out in an instant sweat.

I press my mouth to hers, pushing into her. Almost losing it at her first touch, at her hand curving, warm, around my cock. My hips jolt into her. I think I feel her lips stretch into a smile against mine.

'I love this,' she continues to surprise me with her breathy chat. 'Feeling how you're feeling - it's such a high.'

I push my fingers into her mouth, watching her eyes widen at the intrusion.

'Get them wet, Janey.'

Her eyes widen more and as a sliver of light from the window drops across her face, I see how dilated her pupils are. Guess I'm not the only one who likes some instruction. I whisper more encouragement to her as I ease them free from her mouth and move down her body.

'Trust me,' I whisper to her belly, sliding my fingers along her, along her slick centre. And deeper. 'Let me in, Jane.'

Inside. Tight. Her legs press wider. I look up.

'Ok?'

She licks her lips. 'Good,' she mutters, and rotates her hips.

I move back to kiss her throat; lick at her pulsing vein there. And push my finger deeper into her. She meets me with her hips. And a quiet moan. I shudder, my cock feeling like it might burst with the pleasure and the frustration of holding back. But I've got to be patient, she's still so tight. I push my thumb, lightly, to her clit. Her reaction is instant, fucking herself onto my fingers. I look down, the thrill of watching her so open, her thighs wide. I ease out, stiffen two fingers together and edge them into her centre. She groans, but before I've time to retreat, thinking it's too much, she's grabbing my hand to push me deeper.

'Oh fuck.'

I'm not sure I've ever seen anything more erotic.

I look back at her face, my eyes maybe as big as hers are.

We kiss. Hard. Pressing against each other with urgency. The softness of her mouth. The hot, tight muscles clenching around my fingers, her hand working with mine to fuck them as deeply as they can go. Her hips rising high. My cock desperate for her.

I pull away, fumbling around to find the condom that's somewhere between us. She watches while I push it down onto my cock and move myself between her legs. I dip my hips down, snatching at my breath when she takes hold of me and pushes us together, rolling herself around me. I guess she understands about lubrication from all of that sex education.

It's almost too much.

We're centred, her hand around me. I push, but there's too much resistance. I try again and groan, pressing my eyes shut.

'I'm not going to hurt you, Janey.'

I push a hand flat underneath her, lift her, and adjust my angle. There's a bit more give as I flex my hips again. A low, guttural sound from Janey. A look of pure concentration on her face. I flex again. Still too tight. I lean over her to kiss the underneath of her jaw. A light bite of her earlobe.