Chapter 2: She Held Back Nothing
Martin had been having strange, restless dreams. Louisa was in his bedroom, kissing him, but then she turned into a dog; then he was in an ambulance and had to operate by putting his hand right into Peter Cronk's abdomen; he was sitting on a bench and Louisa was leaning against him; Adrian Pitts was smirking at him and then Joy Cronk was hugging Pitts; then he was in a taxi and Louisa kissed him again but she turned her back on him. No wait, he told himself, some of those things had actually happened, except… Louisa turning into a dog, that couldn't be real.
Then he was at the surgery cottage, where Bert Large was a giant portly penguin in a knit hat, who came out the front door squawking and flapping at him, denying him the refuge of his own home. Obviously not real either, except there apparently had been some plumbing havoc in the surgery.
But that taxi ride, Louisa had definitely kissed him and he kissed her back, and then… and then… there had been some sort of earthquake that roared through the taxi and caused a rift between them. Hard as it was to admit to himself, he knew he had somehow caused that disaster.
And yet now he was here in her bedroom, in her bed, inhaling her scent which was a blend of soap, shampoo, and possibly either perfume or hormones, he wasn't sure which, but it made him pull her pillow close to him and bury his face in its soft depths. He felt he could happily stay here forever.
And then she came into the room. His eyes were closed, but he could feel her standing there, just a foot away. Then she sat on the bed, just inches away. He opened his eyes but couldn't meet her gaze. Slowly, ever so tentatively, he slid his hand toward her. She began to move her hand, her lovely, perfect hand, toward his, meeting him more than halfway. The tip of her finger grazed the side of his hand. He found the courage to look up at her and she was on him in a flash, holding back nothing, kissing his forehead, his nose, his mouth. This too had happened to him before in a dream, and the same ecstatic moan escaped him, "Oh… Louisa."
Her robe was open, completely baring her body to his touch. She was pulling his T-shirt up and unbuckling his belt and trousers, her lips were all over him.
It occurred to him that her breath was as sweet and fresh as could be and he didn't mind it at all. He became acutely aware that, having been up all night, and it was now many hours since he had brushed his teeth, his own breath was likely not so sweet, and yet she didn't seem to mind at all.
Grasping his arms about her, he rolled her to the side and moved atop her, ready to bury himself in her soft depths, and again he moaned "Oh… Louisa."
Suddenly, the bed hit a bump.
Martin's head snapped upright and his eyes opened. It had been a long ride back from Truro, the day was getting warm, and they were both so very tired. Had he said her name out loud, he wondered, embarrassed to think he had been dreaming while sitting beside her. Only moments awake, he could now barely remember any specifics of the dream but he drew his jacket over his lap to hide the reaction it had given him.
Fortunately, Louisa seemed to have nodded off herself and had just awakened to her own post-dream state confusion.
They were both so bloody tired. She looked out her window and he looked out his. But he glanced down at her hand as it rested on the seat beside him. Her lovely, perfect hand. She seemed distracted by the scene outside as the taxi turned off the main road, toward Portwenn, but his hand was drawn to hers like a magnet to steel.
Slowly, ever so tentatively, he moved to brush the side of his little finger against hers, just the lightest of grazes. She turned and was on him in a flash, arms around him, kissing him passionately. He was stunned at her instant reaction but it ignited a spark that had been smouldering in him ever since, well perhaps ever since he first saw her on the airplane flying into Cornwall.
Before he could even think he went to kiss her back, very sure and confident it was all he ever wanted.
They paused for breath, gazing so close, so intimate, into each other's eyes. Then, just as he had been distracted on the airplane by glaucoma symptoms in her eye, he was distracted by possible symptoms now.
He held back what had popped into his mind. "What?" she prodded, smiling tenderly.
So he said it.
Louisa couldn't speak for a moment, then she couldn't hold back her fury. "Stop the car!" she ordered the driver. She opened the door and shoved Martin out to the road.
"Uh…Louisa?"
She ignored his perplexed protest. The driver smirked, probably happy to have some juicy gossip to relay to his mates down the pub, and the taxi took off.
Abandoned to his fate, Martin felt crushed. Then he looked about, just to reassure himself no one else had witnessed his humiliation on this deserted country road.
Then he straightened up his jacket and his posture to resume a semblance of dignity, and scrambled up a gap in the hedgerow to get his bearings. The village was within sight and he recognized the hillside where he was. From out of nowhere that grey shaggy dog appeared, wagging its tail as if it had been waiting for him. For once, Martin felt almost glad to have the beast as a companion. Together they set off for home.
The End.
