Woman to Woman (53 page)

She loved the way Sam carefully coated each strawberry in cream before gently holding it to her lips, letting her take a huge bite before he finished the half-eaten fruit. There was something very sensuous about the whole thing. Aisling found herself responding to it. Her inhibitions drained away as she tasted strawberries and champagne, and enjoyed the heady atmosphere between them.

When Sam went to the bathroom, she sat back in her chair and took a quick glance around the restaurant. She was enjoying herself hugely. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a meal out like this, an intimate dinner where she didn’t feel frumpy, boring and, eventually, plastered. When Michael brought her out to dinner, she felt so

depressed at her size and miserable because she hated whatever dreadful outfit she was wearing that she ate everything put in front of her and drank like a fish.

It was a glorious change to feel confident and slim, to dine with an attractive man who looked deep into her eyes.

They worked their way through a second bottle of champagne and four Irish coffees, by which time Sam was gently playing with Aisling’s fingers across the table and giving her veiled looks from heavy-lidded eyes.

“Do you miss your husband?” he asked suddenly.

Three months ago, Aisling would have burst into tears at that question. Now she watched Sam’s fingers gently stroke the fleshy part at the base of her palm and answered, “Yes and no. I miss him because we were together so long, I miss the person in the bed beside me at night, the man who put out the bins. Sometimes,” she added, ‘sometimes, I don’t even think about him, when I’m very busy and I don’t have time.”

That’s not quite what I meant,” Sam whispered, increasing the pressure with his fingers.

She looked up at him. It was strange and exciting to watch his want for her. Curiously liberating. It made her feel free from the past, free to say what she wanted instead of saying the right thing.

“I haven’t even thought about sex since he left,” she replied candidly.

“Until I met you.” She gasped.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she said, laughing.

“That’s the effect you have on me, Sam Delaney.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Didn’t you ever feel the need to break out when you were married? The desire to do something different?” Sam asked idly.

“Or do someone different? Isn’t that what you mean?”

Aisling said. That’s not me. Well,” she corrected herself, ‘that wasn’t me.” It is now, she thought silently.

She caught the waitress’s eye.

“Could I have a brandy? Do you want one, Sam?” If she was going to do this, she needed some more liquid confidence. Her head was definitely going to ache in the morning.

“Is the new Aisling ready for something different?” Sam asked in a low voice when the waitress had placed two brandy balloons in front of

It was now or never, she told herself. Go for it. She finished her brandy in a couple of burning gulps before answering.

“Yes.”

Sam grinned and drained his glass.

“Shall we go and continue this conversation at home?”

“Sure.”

Amazed at her own audacity, she sat in the back of the taxi and held Sam’s hand. Hand-holding wasn’t what he had in mind. He didn’t seem to care what the taxi-driver saw, he simply slid his arms around her and kissed her passionately.

Once, Aisling would have died of shame thinking about the driver watching them in his rear-view mirror, two adults behaving like sex-mad adolescents. But, insulated by alcohol, she didn’t care, even when Sam’s hand slid up her skirt to stroke between her thighs.

When she fumbled with her keys before finding the right one to open her front door, Aisling briefly wondered if the neighbours were watching her arrive home with a strange man.

At least they wouldn’t know how late he stayed, she reflected, since he hadn’t brought his car. Nobody could squint out of their windows and tut-tut if a strange car was parked outside the Morans’ in the morning.

Fiona was probably peering out, Aisling realised and stifled a laugh. She should have come up with a secret signal with her neighbour two flashes of the torch from the bedroom if Sam made mad passionate love to her, and one flash if he fell asleep on the settee after too much booze.

Sam ambled into the sitting room and lounged on the settee.

“Nice place. Sit down, darling,” he said patting the space:

beside him.

Suddenly, she felt stone-cold sober. Here she was bringing a strange

man into her home, the home she’d shared with Michael and the boys, and this man was sure that they’d make love. So sure, that he was making himself completely at home, taking over her settee possessively.

What am I doing? She thought.

“I have to let the cat out,” she muttered nervously, backing out of the room and into the kitchen.

“Flossie, Flossie, where are you?” she called.

Typically, Flossie had vamoosed when she was required. She wasn’t in her wicker basket beside the double radiator. She couldn’t be used as an excuse or plonked on Aisling’s lap so Sam couldn’t drag her onto his.

“D’you have any brandy?” he asked, appearing behind her in the kitchen.

“Of course,” she answered.

“Funny, I always thought I was the only one who wanted another drink after a meal out.” “Me too. Brandy makes me want more brandy,” he added, looking around the kitchen.

“No cat, huh?”

“She must have gone upstairs to the hot press Aisling rummaged around in the cupboard for decent glasses.

“She loves snuggling up on the socks at the bottom. Here we are,” she said triumphantly. She took two whiskey tumblers made of heavy glass with a green tint.

“Damn, I’ve just remembered I’ve no brandy. There’s whiskey in the cupboard beside the notice board

She rinsed the glasses and turned to find him examining the photos and notes stuck to the cork notice-board. There was a picture of the boys in Portugal, sliding down a huge water slide, their hands in the air and their mouths open as they shrieked in delight. It was three years old, but Aisling loved it. There was a picture of the boys and their soccer team after winning a cup match, faces dirty and proud. And there was a photo taken at a barbecue in Fiona’s garden the summer before, a shot of Fiona dancing with Nicole with Pat in the background wearing an apron and waving a large fork with a sausage on each prong. There weren’t any pictures of Michael. There had been a really nice one of him and the boys in Portugal, lying on the beach pretending to

pose like body-builders with white zinc striped down their noses to protect them from the sun.

She had taken it down and stuck it at the back of the drawer in the dining-room sideboard. She had briefly thought of cutting Michael out of the picture altogether, but decided that was a bit childish.

Sam stared at the photos and notes, looked at the postcard from Sorcha in Istanbul and the Mickey Mouse one from the Finucanes in Disneyland, and Aisling’s shopping list reminders to get loo roll and fabric softener.

There are none of you here,” he remarked, turning to her.

Aisling took a half-full bottle of Jameson out of the cupboard and sloshed some into each glass.

“I’m not photogenic.”

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly.

“I’m telling you, Aisling, you mightn’t think so but you’re one gorgeous lady.”

She was about to contradict him when she remembered an article she’d read in a magazine about compliments and how to take them graciously. You’ll never have confidence in yourself if you can’t take a compliment. Your lack of confidence will eventually convince people that they’re wrong and you’re right about yourself.

“Thanks,” she said. That wasn’t so hard, now was it? she thought.

“I guess nobody’s told you you’re beautiful often enough,” Sam said.

He leaned back against the work top and took a long draught of whiskey. Aisling did the same. The fiery liquid hit her system with a jolt.

“Come here,” Sam said.

Still holding her glass, she stood in front of him. He stroked her cheek and let his hand lazily slide down her face to caress her neck. She could feel her skin burn where he’d touched her and she unconsciously leaned forward so he could touch her some more.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, taking her glass away from her. He

slid both arms around her waist and pulled her forward Their lips met and it was as if Aisling had never been kissed before. His mouth was hungry on hers and she pressed her body close to his, throwing reservations to the wind. They clung together, bodies melting into each other. His body was solid, from, all that rock-climbing, no doubt.

She held his head close to hers, her fingers running through his chestnut hair while she kissed him openmouthed. He tasted good. Fantastic, in fact. She kissed him again, lots of small kisses melting into one long one.

It was the previous week all over again. Her nervousness had gone and she felt greedy for him, eager to feel his body pressed up against hers, inside hers.

“You’re something else, Aisling,” he breathed, pulling his mouth away from hers for a moment.

“Should we continue this upstairs?”

“Yes.” Aisling couldn’t believe what was going to happen.

Here she was, a separated woman of thirty-five clinging to a man she barely knew ready to have sex with him. On the first date, too. Did that make her the ultimate trollop, a complete slut? Probably. But who cared? She could do what she wanted. But it had to be safe. If she was going to do something this crazy, she’d better think about pregnancy or AIDs.

“Do you have condoms?” she asked bluntly, amazed at her own daring.

“Yes. Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered, as he covered her in tiny, hot kisses.

“Yes. Come on.”

She’d made the decision, there was no going back. So what if she was about to have sex in her marital home with someone who wasn’t her husband. Her bloody husband had shagged off with someone else. God, she needed a drink.

She moved out of Sam’s embrace and picked up her glass, draining it. He smiled and drank his down too, proffering his glass for a refill. She poured two more huge whiskies, then took him by the hand and led him upstairs.

The bedroom was in darkness. Before she’d had a chance to turn on the bedside lights, more flattering than the overhead one, he put his glass down and took hers away from her, then put his arms around her again.

They fell on the bed and rolled over until she was on top of him. He kissed her ardently while one hand burrowed under her skirt, sliding it up her thighs. Stockings and suspenders, Aisling thought, I should be wearing stockings and suspenders.

Not tights.

Sam tried to reach the waistband of her black sheer tights but couldn’t manage to hoist her skirt up high enough.

They’d be there all night if she didn’t help.

“Hold on,” she whispered. Why am I whispering anyway?

She wondered. There was nobody to hear them.

Aisling kissed him again and then wriggled off him, getting to her feet shakily. God, she’d had too much to drink. She was pretty pissed.

He gazed up at her expectantly as she unzipped her skirt slowly. Damn. There were few sights more un erotic than a pair of tights worn over knickers. Or a body. She didn’t want him to see her like that.

“I’m waiting,” Sam sounded amused. Turn on the lights so I can see you.”

Aisling walked around the bed to turn on her bedside lamp.

As she switched it on, Sam grabbed her, one hand unzipping her skirt. It slid down to her ankles and she quickly dragged off her tights before he pulled her into his arms. They kissed again, his tongue exploring her mouth while his hands gently explored her body. Thank God she’d shaved her legs earlier.

“Can I take this off?” Sam asked, fingers at the snap fasteners at the crotch of her bronze body.

“Only if you take everything off as well.” Aisling unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers clumsy as they fiddled with the small buttons. She’d nearly finished and was sliding her hands under the fabric to touch his chest, when she felt him un pop her bronze body. She shuddered with pleasure as she felt his fingers on her bare flesh, stroking and probing her intimately.

“Oh Sam,” she murmured.

“Is it good?” he asked.

“Wonderful.” she replied, giving herself up to sheer pleasure.

Sam pushed the body up until he’d exposed her breasts encased in a cream cotton bra.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, nuzzling the soft flesh of her breasts.

“Help me get this thing off.”

Aisling sat up and pulled the body off over her head. Sam reached behind her back and unclasped her bra swiftly.

“Now you she demanded, pulling his shirt tail out of his jeans. He stripped off quickly, then pulled down the duvet, and slid into the bed. Aisling got in beside him and snuggled up to him, loving the sensation of his warm silky skin on hers.

“You’re beautiful, Aisling.” he repeated, tracing soft kisses down to her breasts, kissing her until Aisling was wild with pleasure.

That’s wonderful she said softly.

“Your turn.”

“No.” He propped himself up on one arm and gazed at her.

Tonight I’m in charge and my job is to make you come over and over again he added.

“So lie back and think of the Empire!”

He kissed her breasts again as one hand gently stroked the sensitive skin on her inner thighs.

Aisling moaned with pleasure.

“If you insist, Mr. Delaney.” she said.

“I do.”

Wow, thought Aisling for the second time as she lay propped up on the pillows with Sam sprawled out in the bed beside her. He was snoring, not loudly but still enough to keep her awake.

After two orgasms, she should have been out for the count, but she couldn’t sleep. Even though it was four in the morning, she felt incredibly awake, utterly relaxed and totally sated. She hadn’t realised quite how boring and mundane sex with Michael had become until now.

He’d been unstoppable, determined to send her into paroxysms of pleasure twice. Twice. Wow.

She slid out from under the covers. Sam wouldn’t miss her.