"And last, but not least, as the cliche goes, this is the bathroom, Mr. Cannon," she was saying in a sprightly tone. "The tub and shower to your left, sink on the right, and straight ahead, you know what… So… now that you've taken the guest tour, shall we return to the drawing room and tap the martinis?"
Mark laughed. "Sounds like a winner, Miss Dorsett… and may I ask where the animals are and what they're up to?"
"Well, they're lying down in the corner side by side and seem to be watching us," Carol replied, her hand still inside his as she led him back to the living room area, reluctant to break the contact.
"Do you get the feeling we're being chaperoned?" Mark whispered.
"I hadn't thought of it that way," she whispered back. "But now that you've mentioned it, we are being observed closely… so behave yourself, sir!"
"I'll do my best, he lied," Mark joked with a grin and Carol laughed lightly with him.
"Sit here on the couch, Mark," she invited. "It's the most comfortable place in the establishment. There's a table with cigarettes and ashtray right beside you, and if you'll excuse me a minute I'll go fetch the goodies."
The sound of soft music surprised Carol as she prepared the tray and she looked in from the small kitchen to see that Mark had walked to where her little transistor radio sat, had turned it onto a particular station, and was now confidently returning to the couch. The sight of him so tall and straight dominating her living room caused warm sensations to flutter through her belly. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed the company of a man, she'd almost forgotten how exciting just their presence and companionship could be…
"I took the liberty of finding us some listening music," Mark said, looking directly up at her in such a way that it was difficult for her to believe he couldn't see. "Are you a music lover?"
"Very much so," she answered, moving the cocktail table in front of them to set her tray on. "I usually have the radio playing when I'm around the house, but… I'll be honest with you, Mark Cannon, your coming tonight has had me in a dither all day, and I'm lucky if I've done."
"My coming…?" he repeated, her admission taking him completely by surprise, but pleasantly so. "I–I'm afraid you've lost me, Carol… I don't understand. Why should my coming…?"
"Because," she interrupted, "you are the first man I've been alone with, dated or entertained since my ex-husband, and that was over a year ago. So… now you know that I'm just a shy girl at heart… and here's your martini," she said in that voice that set his blood to racing… or was it what she said?
One more item filed itself into his brain, though: she had been married… He felt her weight ease down onto the couch beside him, perhaps a foot away. The beady essence of her perfume filled his nostrils. Christ, just to get one split-second glimpse of her…!
"Now, what shall we drink to… the steaks in the kitchen waiting to be broiled?" Carol suggested. "May they be ever as tender as the butcher promised me?"
"Steaks? I thought we were having meatloaf…?"
"I felt like splurging," she said, smiling at his unexpectant expression. "As I said before, Mr. Cannon, men haven't been frequenting my life… or my apartment… so, I wanted it all just right."
Mark swallowed tightly, the sound of her voice and what she was saying like some sort of effervescent potion that was making his brain fuzzy. He found his voice. "In that case… let's drink to us, Carol," he said, his words almost a deep whisper as he raised his glass.
"All right," she answered, softly. "I like that toast, Mark… to us…"
"To us!"
He felt her hand covering his glass then, removing it from his fingers and then catching at his hand. He sensed her weight shifting on the cushions beside him and puzzled, Mark waited as she lifted his hand upward toward her face!
"I have the advantage on you," she breathed between them. "I can see you. Would you like to find out what the girl beside you looks like… down to my neck, that is? The rest you'll have to take my word for… and it's 38-26-37…"
Christ! He just couldn't believe it! This girl was something else, almost anticipating his every wish… and damn, she was lovely… skin like satin, a perfect nose and lush, soft lips…!
Carol held her breath as his sensitively discerning fingers brushed lightly over her face. When he touched her eyes, she told him they were green, and when his warm perceptive fingers danced over her lips she said that her mouth was too large. He laughed, those seeing fingers tracing her cheek-bones downward to her neck, and suddenly examining the little cameo at her throat. She described it to him, and then he was exploring her hair, learning its length and the way she wore it.
"It's sort of an ash-blonde," she told him, "maybe dizzy, too."
"I doubt that," he answered, the sound of his increased breathing reaching her. "Y-You're beautiful, Carol! Has anyone ever told you that… besides your husband, I mean?"
"No… not even my ex-husband. He wasn't given to compliments in my direction," she answered as he slowly, almost reluctantly drew his hand away from her face. She picked up his cocktail then, and gave it back to him. "Besides, it is an exaggeration, but I love you for saying it, Mark. Now, there're some canapes right in front of you on the table, and a whole pitcher of martinis to be done away with. Shall we…?"
"Willingly… but I'm not finished learning about a girl named Carol Dorsett, right from the day she was born to this damned minute!" he said, still breathing with an increased loudness.
"And what about a certain man named Mark Cannon?" she questioned, delighted with the intoxicating mood their relationship was weaving around them. "I'd like to know about him… right from the day he was born to this damned minute!"
"All right… that's a fair exchange," he replied, reaching for her hand and waiting for her to give it to him, the almost forgotten sensations of arousal the mere feel of a girl's soft warm touch could bring leaving him drunk with happiness. But this wasn't the little, willing hand of just any girl… it was Carol's… and for a moment it seemed that he'd been waiting a lifetime for her… that he'd always loved her… and then, she began to softly tell her story…
Twice, Carol refilled their glasses as they unfolded their histories to each other, the liquor helping to loosen their tongues when the more intimate details were touched on. She learned that Nancy was beautiful and loved sex, and she confided that once she and Jonny had shared a similar relationship. She held his big hand between both of hers, her fingertips lightly brushing over the short hairs on its back, until she'd nearly kissed it with tears in her eyes when he told her of how he had lost his sight. The horror of it… and Nancy becoming a prostitute, too… dear God, it was a wonder he hadn't lost his sanity! How he really needed someone… a girl to love and look after him… just as she needed a man to share a life with… and here they were together… finding each other… she knew it was happening! They were falling in love…!
Two hours had passed, the room shadowed in a soft veil of darkness as they continued to speak softly, still holding hands, yet not as much as a single kiss having passed between them. The martini pitcher was empty. Carol had never felt so beautiful within as she did sitting beside this handsome man whose hand she lovingly held, listening to his gentle, masculine voice, while romantic strains from her little radio continued to float around them. More than anything, she hated to break that enchanting spell, but it was after nine and she hadn't even put the potatoes on to bake…
He drew her to him, then, his hands suddenly slipping upward along her naked arms to her shoulders, warm and gentle, but demanding hands that caused Carol's breathing to shorten, while impulsive thrills of delight raced through her belly! Their lips met, not fiercely, but with exploring warmth as her arms slipped around his neck and his open hand smoothed down over the exposed flesh of her back to draw her tighter against him! Then, the fervency of his kisses grew more ardent, pressuring down onto the receptive moistness of her own lips, opening them slightly… but he went no further…