The Neapolitan Question

'You kind of wore them well, you know.'

'Thank you,' I bend closer to her. 'And this looked good on you too,' I hand her a glittery blue dinosaur that has somehow adhered itself to her temple.

She giggles. I love the sound of it.

'I love hearing you laugh, Jane. When I first got here, I was afraid for you. You were so quiet and shut down. It's a relief to hear you laugh.'

'Well you have a lot to answer for, with all of your good food, loving care and attention these last few weeks.'

Her voice is soft and she's still smiling, but her eyes have gone bright and shiny. I lean in; kiss her temple where tiny dots of errant glitter tempt me. When I pull back, her hands are moving in front of me, slipping the buttons of her dress open. Blood surges to my head (yes, both) making me pause.

'Oh, have I got this wrong? I thought this was what you wanted to do?'

I shake my head. 'Are you teasing me already, Jane?'

And again, her laugh. I pull her harder into my crotch and flex my hips, giving her a reason to catch at her breath.

'I'm just trying to learn,' she retorts, a little breathily.

I flex my hips again.

'Mmm. You're definitely learning.'

'Oh?' she looks down between us, her dress falling open.

Sliding one hand along her ribs, just beneath the lace of her bra, and the other around her back I push her backwards, pressing her down with my body until she's lying flat on the table. The skin around her collarbone and neck is beginning to flush. I kiss at it as it spreads outwards, tracking its progress. She sighs.

'You like that, Janey?' I ask, pressing my lips to the dip at the base of her neck; feeling her nod her head. 'Good. Because I want to fuck you,' I murmur, glancing up to see how she reacts.

Her legs pull me closer; heels digging into me. I stop, just for a second or two, but long enough to register my feelings of pure gratitude that after all this time, we've found each other. And then I resume my work, moving my hands and mouth over every part of her exposed skin I can reach.

She tugs at my shirt, pulling it out of my jeans at the back, then in front, making me suck at my stomach at my sensitivity to her touch. I pull back to undo enough buttons to open it and pull it over my head, looking down at her spread out in front of me.

'Is it just me that has to get undressed?' I ask her.

Her eyes widen, just slightly. I think she's only just catching on to the details of my plan.

'Here?'

'Yep. Sex on the kitchen table is part of your, ah, curriculum. Don't you know "The Postman Always Rings Twice"? I mean, without the violence, obviously. Or that big knife.'

She laughs.

'What about --?'

I shove my hand into my front pocket and show her what's in my palm.

'You're prepared, I'll say that,' she laughs again.

'Just optimistic,' I shrug, pulling her tighter against my cock and leaning into her again, the touch and the friction too good to resist; helping her unbutton the dress all the way down, until I can pull it completely open. And watch as she shrugs her arms out of it; out of her bra too. And how lovely she looks; eyes full of arousal and a hint of amusement.

Her face takes on a look of expectation. Then, as if making a decision, she sits up, propping herself on one elbow; reaching out to my fly with her free hand, liberating me.

Again, with the delicate exploration of my cock, her fingers barely touching me. The ache building up until finally, her palm curves to me, closing in, warmer, firmer, forcing a groan out of me. And a jump in my pulse rate. Another when her thumb circles around the edge of my foreskin, spreading my own juice into every millimetre of sensitive skin.

'A bit harder, Jane,' I urge, the sweat starting to pop out down my back with the pressure and pleasure of repressing the urge to push myself into her palm.

'You're in my hands, Frankie,' she exclaims softly.

I open my eyes to see the expression of -- awe? care? power? -- in hers.

'More than you know,' I manage to say.

'I like it,' she smiles.

I raise my eyebrows as we both look down, confirming -- as if that's necessary -- just how much I'm liking it.

'But you have to stop that now, otherwise I'm -,'

Her hands go still. 'We can't have that, can we?'

I incline my head, working to regain some composure; marvelling at Janey's increased confidence. Enjoying it. No, that's not strong enough. Loving it. Loving the transformation from the first time, from her silence, to this. Lying on this big old kitchen table lazily stroking my dick as if she owns it. Which, let's be honest, she does.

Even that touch is too much so I gently push her hand off me. Watch her wriggle her way out of her underwear, liking the way she has to move her legs to push me back out of her way, lifting her hips then sitting up, to slide them all the way off. I toe my shoes off, push my jeans and underwear off, unable to take my eyes off her. She settles her legs either side of me again. My first touch sends a tremor through her body. I move closer, forcing her thighs wider, sliding my fingers in ways I think she likes. I'm still learning her, but her sighs and flickering eyelids make me hopeful.

One of her hands joins mine, pushing my fingers more firmly into her flesh.

'Jane,' I murmur it under my breath but her eyes open wide and take me into her.

I press my palm flat against her; watch her reactions, the shiver, the widening of her pupils, the quickening of her breath. But she pulls my hand away, confusing; lifting it higher until I understand what she's doing, what she wants, and open my mouth to take my own fingers inside.

To taste her.

And try not to think what a waste it's been for this woman to have been celibate for so long. Followed by a rush of pure adrenaline. Sucking on my own fingers I bend over her and, once she releases her hold, I draw them, wet, up the length of her rippling stomach to her mouth, tracing the shape of her lips, to the corners that dimple when she smiles.

She begins to pull me closer, but I resist, straightening up instead. I'm too close. We're both too close. And once you've conceived without meaning to, it stays with you forever. I grope around, unsuccessfully until Janey finds it underneath the remains of her dress. I tear at the wrapper, needing to breathe deeply as she helps me roll it down my cock. More deeply still, as we begin to roll ourselves together, into her slick heat.

I find her mouth with mine, needing to feel her everywhere. It's another of those kisses. Bigger than my mind can contain. Jane's feeling it too. Her body arches up into my chest and her short, soft noises reverberate between us, between our bodies and our mouths. It's an overwhelming overload of pleasure that makes my brain rock and slide. Both her hand and mine meet, fingers bumping each other, pushing and slipping and dipping into her. I can feel her beginning to flicker and tremble under our touch.

'Say it Janey, tell me,' I edge her closer.

'Fuck, Frank, it feels good,' she gasps, her head dropping forwards against my chest, and lets out a low moan.

Her hand falls still as I work it out of her, badly needing to relieve my own ache, but transfixed by Janey's need even more than my own. Her hips lift off the table and I grab her more firmly to stop her slipping, awed by the strength in her body as she comes on my hand. Easing away from her I watch her head drop, hair falling away in a long dark line.

I can't work out which part of me is going to explode first. Urgently, I use my weight to push her flat to the table, seeing the surprise in her eyes. Up to now I've been patient, giving her time. But I can't wait any longer. Not this time. It's as though someone's feeding a low voltage up and down my spine and into my brain. I find the place and press myself into her, following the effects of my slow progress in the flare of her eyes, until I'm all the way there.

We both breathe out. I find her hands and hold them in mine on either side of her, pinning her down. Looking into her eyes I lift my chest a little to see where I disappear inside her. Her breath catches in her throat as I pull out then slide all the way back in; just the prelude. If I could speak, I'd issue a warning. But some instinct seems to work on Jane and she shifts her position around me, tightening her legs and digging her heels into me in preparation.

I work my slow way in and out of her a few more times; the effect of her muscles dragging and tightening around my cock. Time stretches out in long waves of heat and electricity and yearning.

Fuck, but I know this much in my lustful stupor; I have never felt a woman like I can feel Janey.

It roars through me, Janey wrenching it out of me, out of my soul, until I've nothing more to give her. And even then, I can't stop. Can't stop the raw need for her, driving me to go deeper, pulling it out of my reserves, from a place I didn't know I had.

I collapse onto her, unable not to, fighting for breath and afraid for my frantic heart.

As we lie there, I gradually become more aware of the rise and fall of Janey's ribcage under me, of her quick breaths blowing into my neck. Then of her hands moving softly and surely up and down my back, her legs threaded around me. She squirms underneath me. I must be pressing her down hard into the table with my weight.

I open my eyes, shift my body over to one side, surprised to find both of us are lying on the table and wonder when that happened; when had I relinquished my secure footing on the ground? She follows my body, turning with me until we're both facing each other, legs still knotted together.

'You're back,' she whispers, her eyes large.

'I'm sorry, Janey, that was --,'

'Powerful,' she interjects. 'That was --,' she hesitates, then, 'there was so much power in it,' and sighs.

I look at her more carefully. She's flushed, tiny dots of perspiration on her forehead and between her breasts; her hair is wild, her eyes more so.

'I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you bruised?' reaching tentatively for her face.

'I thought we weren't doing apologies, Frank?' She kisses my hand. 'Although I might not want to be wearing a bikini out in public any time soon,' and smiles.

'I wish you would.'

She laughs, vibrating around me, making my cock twitch. I grunt and ease out of her as gently as I can but both of us shudder and frown at the feel of it.

'I hate it when you leave.'

'Me too.' And, as more of my cells reconnect and rational thought begins to return, 'Seriously, though, was that too much? I don't --,'

But I don't get any further. Janey's pressing her mouth onto mine, stopping my idiotic flow of words.

'Shhshh Frankie. Stop apologising. I was with you,' and she presses her hand flat on my chest to get me to understand.

'But I didn't --,'

'Didn't what? Want me to see you like that? Frankie, knowing I can make you feel that way -- is more than amazing. My God, it's --' she searches for it; 'it's liberating.'

I look into her face more fully. Her eyes are blazing with amber and gold again. It sends spikes of heat and fear and excitement flying through my body. I swallow.

'Well fuck, Janey, telling me that sort of thing is playing with fire.'

'Why? Is there more where that came from?'

I kiss her, putting my heart and soul into it, because I can't find the words to say how I'm feeling right now.

But the fact we're lying on a hard, unforgiving, wooden table can't be ignored for much longer. We both sit up to survey the damage. Janey's dress looks like a crumpled rag. And I'm surprised to see the cracked remains of a couple of plates and a glass down on the floor.

'Here, Jane, where are your sandals? It's going to be hard enough keeping a straight face explaining to Ellie why I broke so many things doing the washing up, without having to explain away cuts to the soles of your feet as well.'

She laughs, dangling her legs off the edge of the table. 'How about we don't try to make too many excuses?'

'Eating dinner around this table tonight with Mike and Ellie is going to be near impossible without Ellie getting even the slightest hint of this, you know that, don't you?'

'Yes, I know that. But my shoes are all upstairs.'

And so I carry her again.

+++

I walk through the house, yawning from the effects of another ridiculously early flight, towards the kitchen, the epicentre of all the noise. So much noise no one realises I'm here. I stand in the doorway, unnoticed for a few seconds, to take in the familiar scene. Long enough to see the usual uproar that four kids can create; clothes, colouring books, shoes, stickers, glitter -- the kitchen looks like a juvenile crime scene. Ellie and Mike are swigging coffee like addicts. Charlotte and Sophie seem to be demonstrating a new dance move which involves a lot of jumping and giggling. Frankie notices me first and raises his hand. I walk in and grasp it. Then pull him up into a hug.

'Happy birthday, Frankie.'

'Thanks,' he mumbles back, trying not to look pleased. 'How was your flight?' he asks me, the kind of grown up question a just-twelve year old who's still trying for sixteen is proud to think of asking.

'It was fine. Crack of dawn,' I raise my eyebrows, making a familiar joke to him.

George joins us and I lift him up while we watch the girls repeat their dance routine, Mike handing me a much-needed coffee. But I'm distracted and Ellie -- ever observant -- catches my eye. Smiles, then flicks her eyes upwards. I incline my head and chew at my lower lip, wanting to enjoy my family's energy but, well yeah, pretty distracted. I put George down, sip at the coffee, surreptitiously check my phone for messages, but there's nothing.

'Uncle Frank, look at us! Look, look at what Soph's doing!' Charlotte implores me, frowning (just like her mother) at me and my phone.

She's got a point. Sophie is parading around the kitchen, impressively just on her hands. I guess her gymnastics club is teaching her well. The next time she circuits past me, I grab her ankles and haul her up by them until she's dangling above the floor and fit to screaming the house down. I pretend to nearly drop her and that leads to a lot more squealing. By the time I haul her upright and am able to let her down onto her feet, she's already begging me to do it again. And so it goes on, until Ellie takes up her command post as mother of the brood, mobilising them to start clearing up at least some of their mess. It takes more than a few minutes, but gradually, a semblance of calm and order falls into place and most of the kids have left the kitchen except for George, who's lost himself in an intricate-looking game involving a pile of mismatched toys on the floor.

Ellie catches me watching him and smiles.

'Reminds me of you, that one. He's a champion daydreamer, just like you,' she holds out a fresh cup of coffee to me, but I shake my head. Wired enough without more caffeine. She sits down at the big old kitchen table, pulls out a chair for me.

'Come on, sit down and talk to me for a while. We've all missed you. Did you have to be away for the whole week? It's been quiet here without you.'

'Yeah, it was a long time to be away, but I think it'll pay off. And I'm going to need the work more than ever now.'

She brushes my hand.

'And you've been missing Jane, I can see it all over your face.'

I shrug, embarrassed at how easily Ellie can read me.

'How about you help me in the garden today? There are a couple of plants that need splitting up and moving and we bought two more little fruit trees the other day. How about that? It'll help pass the time.'

It's a beautiful day, and spending it with Ellie is great, especially since even George has got to an age now where he needs less of her attention. But I spend too much of the time cursing myself for not enjoying it as I should and instead, wishing Jane was here. I don't know if it's the effect of too much whiskey last night or the six am. flight or what, but I feel especially hollow today. Ellie doesn't fail to spot it and makes various attempts to cheer me up. But it does no good. I miss her. I miss Jane like I'd miss a piece of my heart and mind.

'You're like a lost soul without her,' she commiserates, patting my arm before handing me the watering can to refill.

I'm grateful for it, though. The physical labour of digging holes and heaving overgrown plants around the garden is at least a little bit of a diversion and it does help to pass the time.

'I know it's the wrong season to be doing all of this really. Poor plants. But I know for a fact you won't be doing this in the autumn, so there's no choice really.'

We're sitting on the terrace in the shade, taking a break and drinking water to cool off.

'Do you know what I can't stop thinking about?' Ellie begins, holding a hand over her eyes to look out across the garden.

'No, what?'

'That little Frankie is the same age now as you were when our mam died, and how I can't get over how young that is. Was. Ugh. What I mean is -- it's reminded me of just how young you were.'

I turn to look at her, astonished. Ellie rarely brings this up. Because she's shading her eyes, I can't see them. Purposefully so, I think. It's not that she didn't look after me that year, because she did. In ways I'm only still understanding, even now. But she didn't share what she was going through with me. The age gap was too much, I suppose. And by the time I was maybe old enough, in her eyes, to talk to, well -- time had passed by then. Jane had been right. It was me and Jane who'd talked about it, not me and Ellie.

I can tell she's aware I'm staring at her but she keeps her eyes straight ahead.

'I don't know what I'm saying really, except that now Frankie is twelve, I feel full of dread.'

I grab her hand, startling her so much she drops the glass and it cracks almost neatly into three pieces.

'Ellie, there's nothing wrong is there? You haven't got something to tell me?'

We both live with our family history of breast cancer; Ellie for herself; me for Ellie.

'No! No, Frankie, nothing like that. I'm just being maudlin, don't worry!'

'Are you sure? You're not hiding anything from me, are you? Because I won't forgive you if you do, you know that. Please tell me you'll always be honest with me about that, Ellie, please?'

'Oh God. Frankie,' she clutches my hand painfully hard. 'God no, Frankie, I wouldn't.'

'So you're fine? No test results outstanding? No lumps? Nothing?'

'No, nothing, Frankie, truthfully.'

'And no concerns? Nothing from your last screening?'

'No! Frank, no. I'm sorry to bring it up like this, I'm just -- oh, I don't know what's the matter with me. Maybe this with you and Jane --,'

But I've heard enough and pull her into a hug.

'Don't worry about that, Ells. But promise me you'll never hide anything like this from me, will you?'

This is how Mike finds us, oddly clutching at each other. He's a mild sort of bloke and takes it in his stride, merely giving us a curious look and waiting until we pull apart. Ellie stands, picks up the shards of glass and strides off into the kitchen, all business, back to being in control.

'Everything alright?' he asks, taking Ellie's chair.

'Yep. I think Ells is finding Frankie being twelve hard, you know?'

Mike nods, in a way that makes me think he and Ellie have already gone over the same ground.

'It's definitely set something off in her, that's for sure. But you know how she is. She'll be running a marathon or organising the New Year's Ball for the Singapore National Cancer Centre before you know it.'

We share a laugh before getting up and wandering into the house, anticipating the nightly onslaught of bathing, eating, and bedtime stories.

But of course, because it's Frankie's birthday, there is much more energy and noise and cake than usual, and the kids are all still up and very much awake as it's starting to get dark. None of us care. The table is covered with the detritus of cake, toys and wine. I fight off a vivid flashback, brought on by the fourth glass of wine no doubt, of me and Janey on this table last summer. Me making a lame joke about "The Postman Always Rings Twice". Janey wrapping her legs around me. I shift around in my chair and cough, fighting the memories.