Double Glazing
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2009 by Texrep

These days were longer than ever before, hands on the clock seemingly welded to the spot rarely moving. The long hours adding up to weeks that seemed without end. It came as a shock when one Sunday Eve gaily announced that on the following Thursday, Mr. Gaunt would apply for the Absolute. We were together at my dad's house. I had been clearing the place of his personal effects, and Eve came to help. She was happy as the apparent long wait was over. I turned to her.

"I thought it was another week yet." She shook her head, the smile broadening.

"Are we planning to celebrate?" Eve was asking two questions in one. I went and took her in my arms.

"What would you like to do?"

"I know what I want to do, but you would think me very forward if I told you." Unsurprisingly I had thought about this. An idea came to my mind. I picked up the local paper and leafed through to the entertainments page. It was as I thought.

"There is a concert at the Symphony Hall that Friday. It's music from the movies. Let's say we try for tickets, have a late meal, and find the perfect end to the day." Eve nodded eagerly.

"Yes, we shall have our music, have our meal, then you can have me." She paused momentarily. "And I can have you!" She lifted her face for a kiss. "John, you would be shocked to know how much I want you."

"No more than you, Eve, if you knew how much you are desired."

We returned from the concert that Friday. I had Butterflies in my stomach, and was sure that Eve also suffered that fluttery anticipation. I made coffee, and we sat quietly talking about little, for both of us the anticipation made concentration difficult. Eve told me that she was going to brush her teeth, got up and kissed me. She took her little bag. I listened as she went into my bedroom first, then a few moments later I heard the bathroom door close. It seemed ages before she came out. I waited a few minutes then went round switching off the lights. The bathroom light was still on when I went in to brush my teeth. I undressed and put on a clean pair of silk boxers. Eve was in bed, just her eyes peeking at me from the top of the Duvet. She pushed the cover down slightly and grinned at me.

"You will not be needing those, Mister." She was looking at my Boxers. I took them off and slipped under the Duvet. Immediately Eve held me tight, her arms going round my back, mine similarly encircling her There are no words to describe getting into bed with your lover for the first time. Holding her naked body against yours, the breath that you take at that first awesome contact held in your lungs for moments until your body pleads for you to breathe again. I could recall little except my words of love to Eve, and her squirming, clinging, seeking to place every inch of her skin against mine, as if she felt the need to bind us together. That touch was electric, chasing words away with the frisson that passed between us. Eve's face of love as she looked at me when I filled her, the dismay when I drew back, and the delight as I filled her again. The kisses that sensitised our lips, the flavour of our combined breath as we breathed mouth to mouth exhaled and inhaled over and over again, the fragrance of our mingled perspiration, our murmurs and cries. All of these would remain with me. There was no race to finish, no prizes for triumph, just two people who had found each other, and celebrated their love and union with Paradise.

That Saturday we talked excitedly about our forthcoming holiday, making promises of loving that in all probability our bodies could not keep. Later we did the mundane things, shopping, buying food for the evening and the Sunday, as we had decided that Eve would stay over until the Monday morning. On Sunday we got up late, luxuriating in laying in bed, holding each other and talking. It was the first time that Eve had ever done that, and she insisted that this should be a ritual she wanted to repeat.

"It's so good. Laying here with you, touching in a loving way and talking. I feel as if I have come home to the place I should have been for all those years. In your arms."

The next Tuesday we flew out of Birmingham to Ibiza. Formentera has no airport, so after landing on Ibiza we took the ferry across to Formentera. The ferry actually docks in La Savina, so we were able to notice the many small bars and restaurants lining the harbour. A agent was waiting for us, holding up a placard with my name printed on it. He had the keys to the hire car and directions for getting to the Villa. There was little trouble in finding the place, there was only the one main road which ran east to west on the island. We had to make a right turn at the sign for Platya de Migjorn. The maid who would come in twice a week to change the beds and clean, was waiting by the door. She was a happy soul and welcomed us warmly. We settled in and the maid told us she would be back in three days. She showed us the fridge in the kitchen which surprisingly was full of soft drinks. There was also tea and coffee, so we would be well served for the first couple of days.

Eve wandered out to the pool and as soon as the maid had left I heard the splash as she dived in. I strolled through to the patio. Eve was swimming the length, Her dress and underwear laying casually discarded on a sun lounger. Eve was swimming in the nude! I joined her. Eve was a far better swimmer than me. She teased me, allowing fleeting touches, then with a smile and a stroke or two she would be half way across the pool. My laboured crawl would bring me back to her, only for her to escape easily yet again, laughing. Eventually she tired of teasing me, and swam to the ladder and climbed out to stand, breathtakingly beautiful, the Sunlight playing on her lovely body, flickering reflections from the water streaming down her breasts and flanks in rivulets. Those same rivulets caressed her curves so lovingly. I wished I could be those rivulets. I clambered out, breathing heavily with my inexpert swimming as much as my need to join with her. She watched me as I walked towards her. I spoke the last line of a poem...

 
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