The forensic tests that Johnny had sexual intercourse with Marjorie Benson shortly before she died, and when the results of a search of Johnny’s home were reported to him, the D.C.I. knew that was it.
He could no longer hold out for more time. The tide had come roaring in right over his head.
With rare self-discipline, brought on by the shock he had experienced, Mark did not contact Jenny. By Sunday, exactly a week after she had floated into Marjorie Benson’s body, Jenny was desperate to see him. Her period had lasted only three days as usual. She thought she would now be more-or-less protected by the pill course she was beginning. In any case, she could wait no longer. She caught the Durraton bus on Sunday morning, alighting at the top of the hill above Pelham Bay, and quickly walked the couple of hundred yards to the house where she knew Mark lived. She was praying he would be there. She needed him and she was going to have him. She was being quite calculated about it, and was rather surprising herself.
Downstairs in the hall there was a list of all the tenants and their flat numbers. It was another hot day, and Jenny knew she was sweating slightly by the time she climbed the stairs to his flat. Mark answered the door shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose shorts. His face lit up when he saw her, but then clouded over again, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see her or not. Her eyes took in his bare torso, his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, and his strong, muscular legs. She was tall, but he towered above her. He was all that a young man of twenty-three should be and more — lean and hard and very fit-looking. Much the way she had imagined from the touches and glimpses of him she had previously experienced. Seeing him like that in reality after having dreamed about him for so long threw her a little.
‘I... I was just passing,’ she stammered.
‘I was just going out,’ he lied. He was hardly dressed for going out. She was aware that he looked nervous and unsure of himself. And she already knew that was most un-Marklike.
‘I know you’re upset, I reckoned I might be able to take your mind off things,’ she said.
That sounded pathetic, she thought. Hardly surprising he didn’t reply.
‘Well, aren’t you going to invite me in then?’ she asked. Even more pathetic.
He stood back, letting her pass, and closed the door behind her.
To hell with it, she thought. ‘You might like to know that I am now fully protected against unwanted pregnancy,’ she announced.
She knew she was being quite shameless, particularly under the circumstances, but she just could not stop herself.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you want me any more?’
He was still silent. She knew something was very wrong with him, and assumed it must be Irene’s disappearance. He was just not reacting the way she had already grown to expect. Strangely, her confidence was returning now. She reckoned she could fix that — make him react exactly the way she wanted him to.
In one sudden movement she slipped her tee shirt above her head. She was not wearing a bra. She unzipped her miniskirt and removed it and her knickers both at once. Now she was standing naked before him. It had taken mere seconds.
Mark just stared at her. Her breasts were full and round. He had touched them, had his mouth round them already, and he knew how beautiful they were. But seeing her totally naked was something else. She was innocent — yet completely aware. There was nothing coy in the way she stood, she was a young woman waiting to make love for the first time. She was breathing deeply and her breasts were rising and falling in rhythm. The honesty of her desire gave her beauty. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes were fixed on her pubic mound. She caught the direction of his gaze and involuntarily her hand reached for herself, and she lightly fingered the hair there. She stared at him, unblinking, every inch of her an invitation. Yet he did not have an erection. Mark Piddle, superstud, was standing looking at a naked young girl, and he didn’t have a hard-on. He was transfixed. Mesmerised.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he heard her say softly.
She was reassuring him. Amazing. But he began to believe that this time it would be.
She stepped forward and took him in her arms and he buried his head in her neck. Then the smell of her engulfed him. The same body scent that had driven him wild two years earlier, that had excited him so much when they had been together in his car, when she had refused to let him take her, even though he knew she had wanted it as much as him. He was aware that she was sweating slightly and also that her juices must already be running. She smelt of earthy demanding sex. And it was delicious.
Now he was starting to swell at last. He felt her slip her hands inside his shorts and her touch was electric. She undid the button of the waistband. They were old tennis shorts and their soft whiteness flattered his youthful brown skin. With the fingers of one hand she traced patterns through the fuzzy baby hair covering his chest, down over his flat stomach, down, down. He helped her remove the shorts. He was wearing no underpants. They stood naked, looking at each other. He was fully erect now. This time he took her in his arms.
‘I won’t hurt you, Jenny, I’d never hurt you,’ he muttered urgently, unaware that it had never occurred to her that he would.
His cock dug into her belly, damp yet burning against her. He could feel her eagerness and began to realise that she had no fear of the size of him, nor of the power of his desire.
‘I know you won’t,’ she said, clinging to him.
‘I am going to make you so ready that when I put it into you it will just slip in as if it belongs there,’ he told her.
‘I think it does belong there,’ she whispered.
He melted. He laid her on the bed then and opened her legs and buried his head between them. She had read about this, but what Mark was doing to her exceeded her wildest expectations. He licked and sucked and nibbled her to distraction, and she felt herself opening wide as he darted his tongue in and out of her. Mark was loving it too. Out of guilt he had occasionally done this to Irene — although only usually to get round her again after having served her roughly. But he knew the pleasure it could give. It was the only time he ever brought Irene to orgasm, because when he actually entered her he always did so with such force and selfishness that the poor girl didn’t stand a chance.
This was the bed he had shared with Irene. He tried to put all thoughts of her out of his mind. With Jenny starting to writhe and moan beneath him, it was not difficult.
She was saying something. What was it? She was squeezing his head with her legs, blocking his ears.
‘Can I taste you too? I’d like to know what you taste like.’
Could she? This was unbelievable. This was sensational. This was what he had been looking for all his life. She was just like him. She was pure animal, and the sex in her was taking control of her now. Her first time and she wanted to suck his cock!
With practiced agility he swung round in the bed so that he was kneeling above her. He was careful not to push it at her — he didn’t want to put her off. She teased the end of him with her tongue. She paused — and he was pretty sure she was licking her lips. Then she lifted her head and took him in her mouth. He realised that she really had been licking her lips, deciding to herself whether she liked the taste and the smell of him. Obviously she did. Her tongue moved like a hot wet worm and she sucked him into her.