Harry turns off the car's engine, and they sit in uncomfortable silence outside Ruth's house.
I really want to ask myself inside, but she'll think I'm after sex …... which I am, but just not yet, not tonight.
If I ask him inside, he'll think I want to shag him – which I do, of course (who wouldn't?) - but all I really want is to keep him with me for just an hour longer.
"Harry -"
"Ruth -"
"You first."
"What were you going to say, Ruth?"
"Well …... at the risk of sounding forward …."
Please be forward, please, he'd begged silently.
"... would you like to come in for a while …... for a drink?"
So here they are, and it's lovely. Ruth hands Harry his glass of whiskey, and then pours herself a cup of tea from the pot. They are standing in her kitchen, it is a little after eleven o'clock, and neither wishes the evening to end. Harry fills her kitchen with his broad shoulders, and his sheer physical presence, and she feels safe with him there. She is sure nothing bad can happen to her while Harry is in her home. Perhaps he'll stay.
"We can go through to the sitting room. It's more comfortable in there."
So she shows him through to her sitting room, and they sit side-by-side on the sofa, a little distance between them. Privately, they each long to revisit the closeness they'd shared at the restaurant. Without thinking about it, or what he'd do if she'd objected, Harry had placed his hand over hers on the table top, and they had stayed that way until it was time for him to pay the bill. He'd begun by just covering her hand with his, and then she'd turned her hand under his so that she could grasp his fingers, and that is when he'd felt his stomach do a little flip. He spent the next half hour caressing her hand with his thumb, and he felt her thumb move gently over his knuckles. By the time it was time to pay for their meal, Harry had felt very warm all over.
"Are you still determined to stay back on the Grid with Malcolm?" he asked Ruth, chiefly to break the long silence.
"I can be just as effective there, and I hate those overnight stays while we're working, and you said yourself the hotel was short on rooms. Where would I sleep?"
"I'm sure we could find you somewhere. You could always share with someone, Ruth." Harry smiles at her, finding her engaging when she worries about the small things.
"But who would I share with? There's only Adam and Jo. Ros will have her own room, and Zaf will be in the staff quarters."
"You've left someone out."
"Who?"
"Me."
As soon as he's uttered the word, he knows he's pushed her too far. Her face flushes a brilliant rose colour, and she looks away from him, visibly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Ruth. I shouldn't have said that."
There is a long silence, during which Harry wonders whether he shouldn't just go home. He's ruined his chance with her again, this time by speaking out of turn, and in an inappropriate manner. He has no idea what part of his mind thought it a good idea to suggest they share a room. Are you sure about that? We're each adults, Ruth and I, and if my instincts serve me, she is wanting more.
"Ruth," he begs, "say something."
"Harry," she says, still not looking at him, her eyes on her fingers, which are furiously clenching and unclenching on her lap. "It's alright, what you said. I was just a little shocked that you'd think that."
"Why not? We held hands for half the time we were at the restaurant, and I think you enjoyed that. I know I did."
She looks across at him then and he holds her eyes with his own. This woman is such hard work, but he still believes she's worth it.
"I did. I enjoyed it, probably as much as you did."
"So …... can you blame me for thinking ahead, Ruth? Isn't that what you do – think ahead?"
Ruth looks at him and nods. "It scares me, though."
"What scares you?"
"The idea that some time in the future, we will …... you and me …... we may …."
"Become intimate? Is that what you're thinking, because it's what I'm thinking, and Ruth, if I'm being honest with you, I can't wait for that. But I will wait if I have to, because I happen to think you're worth waiting for."
When Ruth offers no reply, he waits for a minute or two, and then looks at her. She is staring at her hands, and he can't tell what she's thinking.
"What is this all about, Ruth, because I really can't figure this out. I'm telling you some of how I feel about you, and all I get is silence."
"It's because you're my boss, Harry," she says, turning to face him, looking him in the eye, "and I'm your junior. I work for you."
Is that all? "I'm just a man, Ruth," Harry says, his voice soft, pleading. "When you get me away from the Grid, and out of this suit, I'm just a man like any other."
"But Harry …... you're not just any man. You're far from ordinary, whether you're wearing a suit, or not." Ruth stops, dropping her eyes from his as she realises what she has just said, and the image it invokes. All she can think about is Harry with no clothes on. It is an interesting and exciting mental image. She imagines him to be muscular, strongly built, and apart from a slight paunch – very slight – she considers him to be just about perfect. She smiles to herself, putting Harry at ease.
"I can assure you, Ruth, that away from the Grid, I am rather ordinary, and even boring."
"You could never be boring, Harry. I think you're …..."
Harry waits, his eyebrows raised, for Ruth's assessment of him.
"I think you're rather wonderful. I enjoy being with you, whether it's at work, or …... somewhere else."
"That's good."
"Is it?"
"I think so. Don't you?"
Ruth suddenly looks directly at him. "Do you enjoy being with me?"
"You know I do. I'm here now because I don't want to go home. I'd much rather be here …... with you."
Her eyes become like saucers as she watches him, assesses him. "You'll have to go home sometime."
"Do you want me to go home?" He speaks quietly and intimately, and is aware he's leaning a little towards her.
Ruth shakes her head, and reaches out towards him with her hand. Harry breathes an internal sigh of relief. Massive obstacle overcome. Crisis averted. Full steam ahead. He puts his glass of whiskey, barely touched, on the small table beside the sofa, and reaches across to her with his hand, and takes her small hand in his. They held hands at the restaurant from after the dessert until he had to get his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket …... a total of 33 minutes. He was watching the clock on the wall just above the till by the door in the restaurant. They held hands for 33 minutes, and not once did Ruth try to pull her hand away. As he sees it, that represented phenomenal progress.
To make the holding of hands more comfortable, Harry slides across the sofa until he is next to her – as close as he can be without their bodies touching. Ruth has taken his hand, and is holding it with her own, resting their hands on her thigh. All he need do is open his hand, and with his fingertips he'd be able to caress her inner thigh. The very thought of how easy this would be has him breathing shallowly, and so he takes a deep breath to calm himself, and he sits back, allowing his body to lean slightly towards her. He turns his head to watch her. She is looking at their hands, linked and resting on her knee, while he is watching her.
He has noticed that there appears to be an invisible force field which draws them together, no matter where they are, even when they are in different rooms. Perhaps she feels his eyes on her, perhaps she had been planning to look at him at that moment, perhaps they have the ability to act in a synchronistic way, but as he gazes at her profile, she turns her head, and their eyes connect. Harry can't help himself. Were someone – anyone – to say to him at this moment that he shouldn't, he'd not be able to obey, because he wouldn't even hear them. Her face is only mere inches from his, and he leans into her, while at the same time she lifts her face to him.
Their hands are still entwined on Ruth's thigh when their lips meet. He thinks her lips are soft. She thinks his lips are soft. This is their first kiss, and it lasts a long time.
He moves his lips against hers, and their lips part, allowing tongues to meet – gently, slowly, then deeper, bringing them closer. Their linked hands part, as they reach out to hold the other. She tucks her arms around his waist, grasping his broad back with her hands while he draws her closer to him. He wants to feel her against him …... all of her. They are still kissing when Harry pulls her against him, and leans her back against the cushions at the end of the sofa. By the time they are comfortable, they are almost lying down, and his body is half on top of her. This is bliss, he is in paradise, and he hopes she feels as he does.
Harry pulls away from her, just enough so that they can both come up for air, and for them to talk. They have to talk about this, where they're going, where they want to be at the end of this night.
"Ruth," he says, and she pulls his face down for another deep kiss. She moans into his mouth, and it is then he realises that she has pulled his shirt out of his trousers, and her hands are caressing the skin of his back. He is becoming very aroused. They have to talk before he no longer cares where this is leading.
Harry pulls away from her, and sits up, although he is still half lying over her, and she still has one hand inside his shirt. He has a vague recall of his fingers having caressed her breast over her clothing, and it felt wonderful. This is Ruth. He couldn't help himself, but he wishes he'd asked her first.
"You are such a good kisser," Ruth says, her voice deep with arousal.
"Ruth …... we have to talk about this."
"What's there to talk about?"
"We work together. We'll be seeing one another at work in the morning. We haven't yet decided how far we'll go."
Ruth withdraws her hand from under Harry's shirt, and looks at him with her analyst's eyes, rather than the eyes of a potential lover. "What you're saying is that we're moving to the bedroom too quickly."
"Yes."
"Do you desire me?"
"You know very well I do." His voice is deep, and his breathing rapid and shallow.
"So ….. why did we stop? I was in the mood, and you -"
"You just said `was' in the mood, which means you are no longer."
Ruth puts her hands either side of her, and sits up, although her feet are still stretched in front of her along the sofa. "Stopping when we did has taken the edge off, Harry …... why did you stop?"
"I didn't want to reach the point where I couldn't stop, only to then have you tell me to stop. Does that make sense?"
Ruth nods.
"Besides," he continues, "this was only our second dinner date, and I thought we should wait a little longer."
Ruth sighs. This isn't about her. It's about him. Harry and his damned honour. She nods, not sure that anything she could say will change his mind. Not now. She can't see what there is to wait for. Neither of them are young. Anything could happen to either of them, and then there would be regrets, and she doesn't wish to have any of those. She's already accumulated enough regrets to last a lifetime.
"This is how I see it," she says, resting her hand on his arm. She notices when she quickly glances down that his arousal has diminished. Strangely, she sees that as a wasted opportunity. "I think that in situations at work, and around our colleagues we should be strictly professional. There should be no stolen kisses or hand-holding at work, and we should keep our …... us …... to ourselves. I'm no longer afraid of the gossip, but nor do I wish to give them any reasons for talking about either of us. I still have no wish to be putting our reputations at risk."
Harry nods, and leans into her to give her a quick kiss. Ruth puts her hand on his shoulder to push him away.
"Away from work, anything goes. Whatever we agree upon."
"I'm happy with that," he says, smiling at her, and reaching towards her for another kiss.
This time the kiss is longer, and they again lie back against the cushions at the end of the sofa, preparing to enjoy one last burst of sheer pleasure. Ruth again slips her hands inside his shirt, and rubs her palms over the skin of his back, which has him shuddering with pleasure. He slides his fingers inside the front of her shirt, and opens three buttons so that he can reach her bra cup. From there, he edges his fingers under the bra, and just as his fingertips reach her nipple, and it hardens under his touch, so that his breathing is coming in gasps, and he's again pressing his arousal against her thigh, his phone rings.
All the air leaves him, as he pulls himself away from her. One look at her tells him that this may have been their moment, but it has already passed them by. She sits up on her elbows, her shirt gaping, her hair sticking up in places, and smiles at him. Harry is relieved, because he'd been afraid she might be angry.
"Yes?" he snaps into the phone.
It's Ros with some last minute detail that she'd forgotten to mention when they'd met in the pub earlier.
"Could that have waited until tomorrow morning, Ros?"
"Certainly not. I have to be at Havensworth before any of you. I needed to be certain, and I needed you to know." Ros stops her tirade. "Did I interrupt something? Sorry, Harry, I hadn't seen you as the type to pull at a place like the George."
"Ros …... it's alright, and thank you for ringing."
He closes his phone quickly, not wanting to discuss any of this with Ruth. By this time, he is sitting on the edge of the sofa, and Ruth has returned to her original position, sitting next to him. She has also fastened the buttons on her shirt, and no doubt she has also adjusted her bra.
"I'd better go," he says, passing his hand across his face, suddenly weary. "I think that maybe tonight is not the right night for us."
"You're probably right."
Ruth looks sad and disappointed, which is exactly how he feels. He silently vows that next time Ruth wants him, he'll not analyse the situation as he has tonight. He's been an idiot, but at least she's talking to him, prepared to go out with him, and perhaps there will soon be more.
"I just need to say one more thing," he says, holding her beautiful eyes with his. "If we'd kept going tonight, I would have felt like I was taking advantage of you," he says carefully, hoping she understands what he means.
"And here I was, thinking it was me taking advantage of you." Ruth smiles across at him, and he sighs with relief.
Harry stands up, and puts on his shoes, and tucks his shirt into his trousers. Then he grabs his jacket from where he'd earlier flung it over the back of a chair.
"It's time I left," he says.
"You don't have to, you know."
"Yes …... I do."
He holds a hand out to Ruth, and as she takes it, he lifts her to her feet, so that she is standing close enough to him so that he can kiss her. He reaches down and puts his mouth on hers, but quickly ends the kiss.
"After the conference at Havensworth," he says gently, as they walk together to the front door, "when the work is finished and the dust settles, we'll do this again, but we won't stop when things get heated between us. We'll go to dinner, and then come back here, or to my house, and we'll climb the stairs to bed before things go too far. We'll do it properly, and not like a couple of randy teenagers." Ruth smiles at his analogy.
Just before Ruth opens the door, she reaches up and holds his face in her hands and she kisses him, her kiss soft and slow. Harry puts his arms around her and holds her close while he kisses her goodnight, and then he grasps her hand in his and brings it to his lips while he watches her watching him. Then he quickly leaves ... before he changes his mind.
After she closes the door behind Harry, Ruth leans her forehead against it, her fingers on her lips, a smile on her face. They have begun again, only now they have a strategy.