Araluen (10 page)

D
INNER WITH MILLIE
was initially awkward. The restaurant was expensive, the diners were obviously wealthy, and Millie felt self-conscious in her checked skirt and jacket and her best blouse with its mismatched button.

She’d lost the button a year ago and had searched everywhere for a matching one, but to no avail. She’d chosen the closest match and put it up the top, presuming that the odd one wouldn’t show as much there as it would in the middle of the row. Now, at dinner, she kept a hand at her throat to avoid people noticing and talked a little too much and a little too quickly. If only Mr Ross would put her at her ease, she thought. He seemed so withdrawn. It was probably the blouse. He was ashamed to be seen with her. He was probably dying to get out of the place. Millie felt uncharacteristically nervous.

Franklin concentrated on the menu to distract himself from the fact that Millie was looking particularly alluring tonight. He had very set ideas on women. There were the Bronwyns of this world
and there were the women like his mother. Millie broke the rules. Millie was somewhere in between and he didn’t know how to handle her. The sexuality of the woman was undeniable and yet she looked so demure in her neat little suit, her hand modestly at her throat, her voice soft and pleasing. When she’d suggested he order for her and hadn’t even looked at the menu, Franklin had liked that.

He ordered the food and the wine, annoyed that they didn’t stock Ross Estate (he’d be back tomorrow to sort that out) and finally he had no choice but to direct his attentions to her.

‘You look very pretty tonight,’ he said.

Millie suddenly recognised his awkwardness as desire and her tension vanished. He hadn’t been embarrassed by her at all, she realised. He’d been embarrassed by his lust for her. She felt a huge relief.

All her life Millie had been attractive to men. She didn’t know why, but she’d ceased to question it long ago. She liked men; vastly preferred them to women. They were simple, uncomplicated and, despite their need to dominate, vulnerable. She was content to let men hold the upper hand if it made them happy and she’d never quite been able to understand what the suffragettes’ cause was all about. In her own simple, ingenuous way, Millie was a dangerous woman.

She took her hand away from her throat – it didn’t matter at all about the button now – and smiled happily at him. ‘Thank you,’ she said in reply to his compliment. Franklin smiled back at her. It was impossible not to.

The food was exquisite. Well, it certainly was
to Millie. Franklin was too distracted by his sexual desire to taste much of whatever it was he was putting into his mouth.

Facing each other on the first-floor landing outside the doors to their rooms, Franklin didn’t quite know what to say. Seduction wasn’t his strong point. Millie saved him the trouble.

‘It’s a pity I can’t offer you a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘Would you like to sneak into Solly’s kitchen?’

‘Why don’t we have a drink in my room?’ Franklin countered gratefully. ‘I have cognac and port.’

‘That would be lovely.’

While Franklin poured their drinks into the glasses he’d purchased that very afternoon, Millie looked out of the window. ‘What a nice view,’ she said, although she actually preferred the view from her own room. Looking out over backyards was more homey, somehow, than looking out over a main street. ‘And it’s a nice big room; lots of space.’ There was too much space, Millie thought. It was very spare. He could do with more furniture and more pretty things about, a bit of colour …

‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the cut-crystal port glass. ‘Oh, isn’t that lovely!’ She held up the glass, examining the sparkle of the light on the crystal and the velvet colour within. ‘It’s too pretty to drink.’

‘We can always fill it up again,’ Franklin said, as he toasted her with his brandy balloon.

What an attractive man he is, Millie thought, sneaking a look at him over the rim of her glass as he inhaled the brandy fumes. With his thick hair starting to curl at the collar and his fine cheekbones and patrician nose – and those eyes, above all those compelling blue eyes! She looked away in case he should glance up and catch her staring at him. When he didn’t, she stole another look. The way he carried himself, the way he wore his clothes. He was a good deal younger than she was, Millie was sure of that, but there was no callow youth about him. His air of authority and command was palpable. All night she’d noticed the effect he’d had on others – not only the waiters in the restaurant, but those dining as well. Once she’d established the fact that they weren’t staring critically at her, she’d been aware that the other diners were wondering who the aristocratic young man was. He was class, Franklin Ross, all class.

Far above her station, of course, but she could fantasise, couldn’t she? He obviously found her desirable and if she allowed him to sleep with her … well, anything was possible, wasn’t it? ‘Allowed’ him to sleep with her? Why pretend? She wanted to sleep with him. She wanted the touch of his hands on her flesh, she wanted the weight of his body on hers, she wanted to feel him inside her.

Millie genuinely missed a man in her life. Not only did she want to cook and housekeep and sew for a man, she needed a man in her bed. It was a terrible thing to admit, but the truth was that Millie liked sex. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she did.

So when Franklin wasn’t quite sure where to start, it was Millie who took the initiative.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said after he’d poured her a second glass of port and seated himself next to her on the uncomfortable hardback sofa, a little too close, obviously unsure of what to do next. Millie put down the glass and turned to him. ‘I enjoyed myself very much.’

Franklin could contain himself no longer. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, his hand seeking her breast, his body pressing against her at an uncomfortable angle.

Millie was taken aback. She hadn’t expected this. She’d registered that Mr Ross was shy, but this was gauche, this was ungallant, this was … She pulled away from him, unsure whether to slap his face or … Then she saw the desperation in his eyes. The desperation of a boy embarking on his first sexual adventure. Mr Ross was inexperienced – that was it! Perhaps he was even a virgin.

As Franklin once again lunged towards her, Millie deftly avoided his embrace, rose from the sofa and walked to the door. ‘I think I should be going now, Mr Ross,’ she said formally.

Franklin was mortified. He walked over to her. ‘I’m sorry, Millie, I’m extremely sorry. That was unforgivable of me, I – ’ He stopped.

Millie had reached up and taken his face in both of her hands. ‘Thank you again,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been a beautiful evening.’ She stood on her tiptoes and he allowed her to gently lower his head until their lips were touching. Then her arms were
about his neck, her mouth was slowly parting as her body melded itself to his.

Franklin lifted her in his embrace and carried her to the bed. Again he forced himself upon her, brutally, demandingly.

Millie pushed him away with all her strength, averting her face from him. ‘No, please,’ she said, ‘please. That’s not the way.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Although he was apologising again, Franklin wasn’t quite sure why. She was obviously going to allow him to have sexual intercourse with her. So why did she keep stopping him? He watched as she rose and turned off the overhead light.

‘Gently,’ she said. ‘Gently. Turn on the bedside lamp.’

He did. She stood before him in the rosy glow and slowly showed him how to undress her. When everything but her shift was removed, she stopped him.

‘Now you,’ she whispered. Together they undressed him. Each time he tried to rush the process she made him linger, tantalising herself as well as him. Finally, when he stood before her, naked, she lowered her shift.

Franklin had never been naked in the presence of a woman, nor had he seen a woman fully naked. In their wild couplings above the stables, Bronwyn had always kept her shift on and he had never bothered to remove his upper garments.

Millie’s full, lush body with its milky white skin was a source of wonder to him, and, as he gently ran his fingers over a breast and watched the nipple harden, he thrilled to the pleasure he could
sense in the woman. He let his hand stray over her stomach, the small of her back, her hip, until finally, with the tips of his fingers, he touched the copper-gold thatch between her legs.

‘Yes,’ Millie murmured, her head back, her eyes closed, ‘yes.’ And her fingers returned his caresses, travelling down his body, over his chest, his buttocks, his groin.

Then they were on the bed again, Franklin quivering with the desire to plunge himself into her, the ecstasy almost more than he could bear. But he was aware that he mustn’t. He must hold back. He must take his lead from her. Her pleasure was exquisite to him and he mustn’t break the spell.

She lay on her side facing him and, as she kissed him deeply, he felt her legs part. He was rock-hard and, when she placed her hand upon him, he shuddered in anticipation. But she didn’t guide him into her, she clamped her thighs tight around him then moved herself backwards and forwards along the shaft of his penis. He could feel her, moist and ready, and her thrusts quickened as the friction stimulated her desire. Finally, when they both felt they could resist no longer, she opened her legs and took him into her.

They’d so prolonged the agony of their pleasure that the final act didn’t last long. ‘Oh yes! Oh yes!’ Millie cried. ‘Now, now, now!’ And, as Franklin responded to her urgency, his own excitement reached fever pitch. He clasped her tightly to him, buried himself deep inside her and let go with a strangled cry.

For several seconds he lay next to her, fighting
to regain his breath, overwhelmed by the experience. And then confusion set in. It was over. He found their nakedness confronting. And, as Millie snuggled up against him like a contented kitten, he leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp.

She was aware of his confusion and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she propped on one elbow, kissed him gently on the lips and said, ‘I must go back to my room.’

He made as if to protest – he supposed he should – but she interrupted.

‘It’s too small a bed to sleep two.’ And she was up and dressing deftly in the dark, leaving him fumbling for his trousers.

‘Shall I see you tomorrow?’ he asked.

Millie wasn’t sure whether he meant it or not but she smiled reassuringly. ‘If you wish.’

Franklin certainly did wish and the following evening found him tapping on her door.

‘I wondered whether you might care to dine,’ he asked, aware that he was actually asking much more and wondering how he could avoid it sounding the way it did. He couldn’t, but Millie’s engaging grin banished any need for embarrassment.

‘I’d be delighted, Mr Ross.’

He smiled back. ‘Do you think, under the circumstances, we could make it Franklin?’

Millie dined, and slept, with Franklin three times over the next ten days and, on the fourth time, exactly a fortnight since their first evening together, Franklin mentioned that he had a surprise for her.

‘There you are. What do you think?’

He’d opened the door to his room to reveal the
brand-new double bed which sat in pride of place beneath the bay windows. ‘Now you can stay the whole night,’ he said. And Millie thrilled to the words.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘The whole night. Oh, Franklin.’

They kissed deeply and later, in her passion, she cried out, ‘My darling, my darling’, again and again.

Franklin learned a lot that year. He learned how to become a good restaurateur from Lumet, who was only too eager to appoint him manager of Le Cafe Gustave; and he learned how to become a good lover from Millie, who was only too eager to teach him the joys of sex.

Franklin grew very fond of Millie and took great pleasure in his new-found sexuality, but he couldn’t rid himself of a deep-seated guilt. It didn’t seem quite right, somehow, to be so abandoned. His plan had always been to marry a respectable woman who would bear him sons. But there would be time for that, he supposed. And Millie seemed to quite happily accept the relationship as it was; she made no demands upon him, and appeared to have no false expectations.

Indeed, when Franklin had discovered that she’d lost her job it had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her that he should pay her rent. ‘Very well,’ she agreed finally. ‘But only until I find another position.’ As Solly accepted the money he said, ‘You’re a kind man, Mr Ross’,
fully aware of the situation. Of course Solly had been fully aware of the situation even before the double bed had arrived. The lust shared by Millie and Mr Ross was positively palpable.

Gradually Franklin’s room took on a new look. As Millie grew bolder, she insisted he allow her to buy a new counterpane, a pretty lace tablecloth, fresh flowers daily. Franklin liked it. When a job opportunity came Millie’s way he told her not to take it. The hours were too long, he said, and she hated factory work. Eventually she agreed to accept his support, insisting upon doing his washing and mending by way of exchange and all the time wishing that they had a real home so that she could cook and keep house. But the idea never seemed to occur to Franklin and of course Millie never dared suggest it, so they continued to live in their separate rooms.

Eighteen months after they’d been working together, Gustave Lumet suggested a deal which Franklin was only too quick to accept.

A partnership in an upmarket new restaurant was the offer. Gustave had already chosen the site, a prime piece of real estate overlooking Sydney Harbour. The house was of the grand colonial style, built in the eighties, surrounded by wide verandahs, with large rooms, high, decoratively moulded ceilings and open fireplaces. A grand central staircase led to a second floor, the rooms of which opened out on to balconies bordered by ornate iron lacework.

‘Elegant,’ Gustave explained. ‘People pay for
elegance. We cater for the rich,
mon ami.