Plot - Boyd Grace post Waterloo, Why is Grace resisting his charms.
Rating - T for bad language.
Spoilers - None is post Waterloo.
Disclaimer - I own nothing, no copyright infringement intended.
Like Lovers Do!
His Story
Boyd slammed his front door and walked into his house, throwing things down and slamming doors as he walked through. As he reached the kitchen, he took a glass out of the cupboard and slammed it on the work surface, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he half filled the glass and downed it, before half filling it again and taking the glass with him as he walked back through the house and ascended the stairs. He put the glass by his bed and started to undress, throwing his clothes on the floor in temper as he did so.
He mumbled under his breath. "Fucking irritating woman, no make that women, cos I've never met one who didn't make life difficult."
He stripped off and sat on the edge of the bed, downing his second glass of whiskey before climbing under the satin covered duvet that was on his bed. Despite the warmth of the whiskey in his stomach, he shivered at the cool feel of the sheets.
"Damn it!" He said to himself, banging his hand against his pillow, he then got up again and sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling his shorts back on. He walked downstairs and back into the kitchen pouring himself another whiskey, his eyes drawn to the phone, he so wanted to call her, to talk to her, to argue with her and tell her what he thought of her. No, he didn't mean that, he wanted to understand her, wanted to know why she refused every attempt he made at seducing her.
He had spent the last six months wining and dining her, sending her flowers, even a bloody balloon. It was his attempt at an old-fashioned courtship. However, it had failed miserably. He was positive she felt something for him, something more than just friendship. Tonight was the night when the months of courtship were supposed to end in celebration, but it all went wrong, somehow.
He had asked her out to dinner and when she'd agreed, he booked a table at a restaurant in a top hotel. He put on his best suit and tie and picked her up from her home. He gave her a single dark red rose and kissed her on the cheek, telling her how beautiful she looked.
They were shown to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant, just as he had asked for when he booked. They drank expensive wine, and ate exquisite food. Towards the end of the meal, the waiter brought over a bottle of champagne that Boyd had ordered for a specific time. Grace looked at him a little confused.
"Sorry I was just being a bit presumptuous." He said whilst getting up, he then dropped to one knee and produced a small box from his pocket, "Grace, will you marry me?" he said calmly and confidently.
When she didn't answer straight away, he thought it was just shock, but then as the seconds ticked by he started to worry. "Grace?" He said quizzically.
"I'm so sorry Peter. I can't. I think I should leave." She got up from the table before he was up off his knee.
"Grace, wait." He was up and following her, when the waiter stopped him over the bill, he simply handed him a credit card "I'll be back in a minute, okay?" The waiter let him go.
Grace had stopped outside trying to find a taxi when he caught up with her. "Grace what are you doing, are you just gonna run off without an explanation."
"I'm sorry Peter. I can't accept. It's nothing personal, I just. I can't." She sounded flustered and unsure of her words.
"Well you could at least give me a reason. I thought you felt the same as I do."
"I don't know what you feel."
"Really, I thought I'd done a good job at showing you how I feel."
"What?"
"The wining and dining, romantic walks, flowers, the open-air concert, I thought you knew how I felt."
"It was all a plan was it?"
"It was my attempt at romancing you. I love you, and I was hoping you felt the same way about me."
"I do love you."
"But not enough to marry me."
"I think we want different things from a relationship." Just then a taxi pulled up, and Grace jumped in it. He tried to stop her, but she just left.
He returned to the restaurant and paid the bill, cancelling the room reservation that he had also presumptuously made, having to pay the cancellation fee was a bitter pill to swallow, almost as though they were rubbing salt in his wound.
As he stood in his kitchen, he looked in the small velvet covered box, staring at the beautiful diamond engagement ring that he had purchased, wondering what the hell he was going to do with it now that she had turned him down.
He was so tempted to go to her home and demand an explanation, to hammer on her front door until she opened it, but he resisted the temptation. Instead, he stood in his kitchen, wearing nothing but his black trunk style underpants, his fourth whiskey in his hand, staring at a ring that he had chosen because it reminded him of her, small and petite, elegantly beautiful, with a diamond that, if you held it up to the light had a very feint blue tint to it. He'd nearly had to mortgage his home to pay for it, but he didn't care. It was for her, and nothing was too good or too expensive for her.
He snapped the box closed, and stared into the bottom of his whiskey glass, swirling the liquid around before downing it and pouring himself another.
Her Story
Grace opened her front door and walked in, closing it and almost collapsing back on it, letting out a large sigh as she did so, a sigh that nearly turned into a sob. She felt guilty, had she misled him, led him into believing something that wasn't there. She couldn't deny that she had strong feelings for him, and since they had stopped working together, their friendship had intensified. He had, just as he said, wined and dined her, taken her on surprise days out, even to an open-air concert at night that she was sure he hadn't enjoyed one little bit, but she had loved it, and he knew she would, that was why he had taken her.
He had been the perfect gentleman on every occasion, never trying to pressure her into anything, yes they had danced together on occasions. Occasions when he had held her in his arms and slow danced with her, and yes he had kissed her, at first it was just a peck on the cheek, and that gradually changed to a peck on the lips, and then on one occasion a more passionate kiss. She never pulled away from him, and maybe that was wrong, maybe that gave him this idea. There had been occasions when they had cuddled up together watching TV, or a film, and occasions when he stared into her eyes with a look that she was sure could see right into her soul.
But marriage, that meant something completely different, sharing a home, living in each other's pockets, she enjoyed his company, and she had thoroughly enjoyed every occasion that they had spent together in the last few months. She enjoyed walking through the park with her arm linked through his, and sitting opposite him over a candle-lit table, she loved the way he always walked her to her door, but never expected to be invited in, but she couldn't marry him, and she knew she would never be able to explain why to him, because he was a man, and a man would never understand.
She walked through to her kitchen and opened the fridge. Half a bottle of Chardonnay seemed to call out to her, so she poured herself a large glass and walked back through to the lounge with it. She sat on her sofa. Her head was spinning, full of the evenings events, and sure he would be knocking, or rather banging, on her door at any minute. She sincerely hoped not, because she had no idea what she would say to him, how she could make him understand her problem, not that it was really a problem, not from her point of view anyway.
This wasn't to do with confidence or body image, it wasn't about age or experience. It was a dislike, and it always had been, pure and simple.
She looked at the phone, should she call him, should she be honest and try and make him understand, tell him that she was worried about what he would expect from her, or should she just lie and tell him she didn't want to be with him, that she felt she was too old to be getting married. No, he would never fall for that one. She loved cuddling up to him, had no problem when he held her hand or affectionately put his arm around her, and she had loved every minute of him romancing her the way he had, so out of character for him. He had even sent her a daft balloon on one occasion. It was in the shape of a peanut with the slogan, nuts about you, on it. She knew in hindsight that she should have backed off then, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, as they say.
She took a large gulp of her wine before picking up the phone, flicking through the stored numbers until she came to his, her thumb hovering over the call button for a few minutes, and then she put the phone back on its stand and forgot about phoning him.
She knew eventually she'd have to speak to him, there was no way he would just forget everything. She had after all, just humiliated him in an expensive restaurant, there was no way he'd let that go. Tonight though, she just wanted to go to bed, and hoped she'd be able to sleep, though she doubted it after the evenings' events.
She finished the wine and locked up her house before heading upstairs. She placed her mobile phone on her bedside table and began to undress, removing her make up and putting on some pyjamas. She got into bed and then picked up her mobile, again the temptation to phone him was there, but before she did anything, a text came through from him, it was just one word.
"Explanation?"
She looked at the time. It was 11.30, still quite early. She hesitated before hitting the call button.
"Hello." His voice was soft and calm.
"Hi, it's me." She replied.
"Hi me."
"We need to talk." She said.
"Well yeah I think it would be a good idea."
"Do you want to come over?"
"Well it's not like I can sleep, I'll have to call a taxi though, I've been drinking so I can't drive."
"Well I'll see you when you get here."
Their Story
It was 45 minutes later when Grace's doorbell rang, a nervous Boyd stood outside her house, wondering what he was doing, she'd turned him down flat, what was he expecting, a change of heart, a confession of her undying love for him, or just an explanation of why she'd said no? Truth was he had no idea. He just wanted something more than a no, preferably a yes, but if not, then a reason why.
Grace had redressed before he arrived, and she rubbed her hands nervously over her clothes as she walked to the front door, still not sure if this was a good idea, but she owed him something, not sure what, but she definitely owed him something.
She unlocked the door to him slowly, smiling at him. "Hi, come in." She said, her voice full of the nerves she was feeling.
"Thanks." He replied hanging up his coat.
"Do you want a drink?"
"I'll have whatever you're having."
Grace opened a bottle of red wine from the wine rack in her kitchen. She took the bottle and two glasses through to her lounge.
"Thanks." He said as she handed him the glass.
She sat down in a chair rather than sitting on the sofa next to him.
"So what's this all about Grace? I thought you felt the same as I do, I rather thought you would have guessed what my intention was tonight."
"I had no idea, about tonight I mean."
"So tell me what the problem is."
"I just don't feel that way towards you."
"So we stroll through the park together hand in hand, we kiss on a couple of occasions, we slow dance with our arms around each other, hold each other tightly, snuggle up together on the sofa, yet at no time do you think to mention that you don't think of me in that way. Is this where you say it's me not you, that you love me as a brother not a lover?"
"Maybe, I don't know."
"Well could you at least try and explain it to me, because I've been getting some seriously mixed signals Grace, and I am confused."
"I enjoy your company. I like being with you, spending time with you, and I love that you send me flowers and gifts and treat me like a lady."
"I sense a but coming."
"But I don't want to marry you."
"So you have a problem with marriage, we don't have to get married. We can just live together."
"I don't have a problem with marriage. I don't want to share my life with anyone."
"But we're already sharing our lives together. We see each other almost everyday. We do everything but sleep together now, so what is the problem?"
"That's the problem."
"What is?"
"Sleeping with you."
"You don't want to sleep with me?"
"I don't want to sleep with anyone."
"Hang on, are we talking sharing a bed, or having sex?"
She looked at him slightly embarrassed, "Having sex Boyd okay, you want me to spell it out then I will. I don't like sex, there I've said it."
"That's it!"
"Um it's a pretty big part of becoming husband and wife, don't you think?"
"Yeah, but we can work things out, take it slowly. We can wait until after we're married if you want."
"You're missing the point somewhat. I don't want to wait or work it out. I just don't want to."
"So tell me why?"
"I thought I just had."
"No, you just said you don't like it, you never said why, there must be a reason, a bad experience or something."
"This isn't about bad experiences or my age or body image. It's about the fact that I neither like nor enjoy having sex, and at this point in my life, I am not prepared to lie just to make you happy."
"You're a psychologist, have you never thought of looking deeper into the statement you just made?"
"I am a single woman in my sixties, why do I need to look into why I don't find sex enjoyable at my age?"
"Because sex is an important part of any healthy adult relationship."
"But as I just said, I am not in a relationship."
"Well that was not the impression you gave me."
"If I led you on, then I am truly, truly sorry, I enjoy your company, and I never meant to mislead you in anyway."
"But you did. You led me to believe that you loved me, that we had a future together. I took things slowly. I never tried to press you into anything. Everything went at your pace, and tonight when I proposed I had no doubt in my mind that you would accept. I thought you wanted it as much as I did, do, I mean as much as I do, because I still want to marry you, we can get around anything Grace."
"You'll be happy getting married and never having sex will you?"
"Of course not, I want you in every way that a husband would want his wife."
"Which is why I turned you down."
"Give me a chance to change your mind."
"What?"
"Give me a chance to change your mind, we'll take it slow, well slower. I'll show you how good sex can be."
"The arrogance of the man, did you actually just listen to a word I said?"
"Yes I did, but I can't give up on you. I am in love with you, totally, utterly and hopelessly in love with you, and I don't have the strength to walk away from you and pretend it never existed."
"And what about what I want."
"I think you want me. I think you are as much in love with me as I am with you, but you're worried about the intimacy a relationship will bring, sex with the person you're in love with can be the most amazing and mind blowing experience in the world, and if you've never experienced that then I think you need to."
"You're missing the point, sex, in my experience, has never been amazing or mind blowing. It was something I tolerated when I was younger for the sake of my partner, and in the hope that it might become amazing and mind blowing, but it never did. What it was, was dull, messy and at times down right uncomfortable."
"Grace, are you saying you've never had an orgasm?"
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"Answer the question?"
"No!"
"What, no you've never had an orgasm or no you won't answer the question."
"No, I've never been able to achieve an orgasm, there are you happy now?" She said the words in an almost ashamed tone.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, and sex doesn't have to be like that, it says more about the person you were with than it says about you."
"I really don't want to talk about this any more."
"Spend the night with me?"
"Are you completely insensitive or just stark raving mad, or both."
"None of the above, I want to make love to you, I want to show you how it can feel when you're in love with the man who's making love to you."
"Is that self-assurance or just plain old-fashioned boasting."
"Neither, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to grow old with you and know that we have both experienced everything the other has to offer."
"No Boyd, it's not just a case of you changing my mind, has this conversation gone completely over your head?"
"No, but I'm not going to give up on you."
"It's out of your hands."
"It doesn't have to be. I'll book us a night in a hotel. We'll go away, make it special."
"I think you should leave now."
"No, I'm not walking away from you or this, we have a future together, I know we do, and so do you in your heart."
"We want different things."
"What, you think all I want is sex?"
"I didn't say that, but as a man it's probably high on the list of things you would want from a relationship."
"I think you underestimate me. It is not the most important thing to me."
"So what is?"
"Friendship, companionship, love, just being with you."
"And that's it, is it?"
"No that's not it, I said sex wasn't everything, I never said I didn't want it at all."
"Which brings us back to square one."
"So spend the night with me, if I can't change your mind in one night, then we'll have separate beds."
"What one night with you and I'll be liberated?"
"Not liberated, just suitably satisfied, and it isn't about me. It's about us and what we have together, that's what makes it different and special."
"Go away Boyd."
The Conclusion
Boyd walked into the Baglioni Hotel in Kensington. It was a five-star hotel with views of Kensington Palace and a short walk from The Royal Albert Hall. It had cost him almost four hundred pounds a night for an Executive room, and it would be worth every penny, providing, she turned up. He hadn't spoken to her. He sent her a text, it said simply:
The Baglioni in Kensington, 2.30 Sat, see you in the bar.
She didn't respond, but he decided not to text again, thought he would leave it to chance. He checked into the room, unpacked and changed before heading back down to the bar.
He ordered himself a beer and waited patiently.
It was 3pm, when he looked up to see the very beautiful and graceful looking Doctor Foley standing in the entrance to the bar, looking shyly at him. He smiled, his beautiful and yet strangely impish looking smile at her. His heart filled with relief that she had turned up, and nerves at the thought that she may yet still walk away from him.
He showed her to their room, and left her to unpack, her mind wondering what the hell she was doing, why she was putting herself through all this at her age, but then, hadn't she been the one who'd said that this wasn't about age or image, just a pure dislike.
She unpacked and freshened up before heading back down to the bar to meet him. As she approached his table, he stood and kissed her, this time he didn't stand on ceremony, he kissed her on the lips, not bothered about who was looking or whether it was appropriate. As far as he was concerned it was time to show her how he felt, he'd tried the slow and soft approach, and it didn't work, now it was time for a head on attack.
He ordered her a bottle of expensive wine, and they sat in the bar and chatted for a while, before he suggested they go back to their room. He stood and held his hand out for her, which she took willingly.
As they entered the luxury hotel room and closed the door he instantly turned and kissed her, she showed no sign of hesitation, and he certainly didn't.
He pulled away, smiling at her. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "Come to bed with me?"
She nodded her head gently in response.
They undressed and climbed in bed together, it was new territory for both of them. They had never shared a bed or undressed in front of each other, Boyd's self-confidence shone like a beacon, a stark contrast to Grace's insecurity. She pulled the cover around her to try and hide her body. Although she maintained this not to be about body image or age, it clearly was a factor, even if only a very small one. Boyd leant forward and kissed her anew, his hand sliding under the cover and resting on her waist.
As soon as his hand touched her skin, he felt her muscles tense. "We don't have to, I mean not straight away, if you don't want to."
"I thought that was what you wanted?"
"I want to have a physical relationship with you, doesn't mean I want to jump on you as soon as we get in bed."
"I'm not some naïve little virgin that's scared of having sex Boyd, I said I didn't enjoy it, nothing else."
"Yeah I know. I just meant we could take our time getting around to it."
"It's fine, let's just get it over with."
"I don't want to get it over with. I want to take my time. I want to kiss you and hold you."
"Enough with the mills and boon stuff, we both know why we're here."
Boyd sat up in the bed and rested his back on the headboard, "Grace, I'm sixty years old. I am not some sex mad teenager that spends my time trying to go blind in front of a computer screen, nor do I spend my time with a permanent bloody hard on trying to think of ways that I can drag you into bed and have my wicked way with you. I do, however, spend my time thinking about you. This is about love not lust. I want you to trust me, I don't want to make love to someone who flinches when I touch her or has to close her eyes and think of England to get through it, it should never be like that, not at our age, or any age, for that matter."
"I do trust you."
"Yeah, you sure?"
She nodded her head at him, and he almost melted into her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes.
He leaned over and kissed her, gently. His hand moved to the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her face. He took his time, kissing her and touching her with tenderness, everything he did was slow and gentle. When he eventually made love to her, it wasn't loud and mind blowing, they weren't swinging from the chandeliers or shouting profanities from the roof top. It was, however, as he promised, slow, gentle, sensual, and hopefully enjoyable.
Afterwards, it didn't take either of them long to fall asleep, Boyd snoring softly, and Grace sleeping soundly, her back against his stomach, his arms around her waist, and her arms over the top of his, a beautiful sparkling diamond on her finger. Sleeping like lovers do..
Fin.