.
Alone
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Her eyes are just beautiful.
Her eyes are so sparkling and big and green and deep. I could drown myself in them. They're like the Cornish Sea on a bright sunny day when the wind isn't going at all. Or maybe just a small breeze, just enough to gently waft through her hair and to put a light taste of sea salt onto your tongue.
Although it's later in the evening now it's still warm and my dirty thoughts of kissing her neck puts the idea of a slight salty taste of sweat onto my tongue. Sweat that at the moment still coats her skin and makes it shine.
Her whole face is beaming now while she talks about the project. Her project. That wonderful old house in that not so very rich part of London where she and her friend have started that parent and child care project. I'm sure it will work and after a while can be turned into that hospice they have thought of.
Barbara is radiating a wonderful confidence that they're going to make it happen. With such pride in her voice she's animatedly telling me what they have achieved until now, ignoring the fact that I have been involved in most of it from the beginning.
I let her talk. She deserves her happiness and so much more. And I love to just listen to her voice, her beautiful quiet but firm voice that should be heard by everyone. I once have told her to join the police choir but she just has dismissed the idea with a snorted remark. But I know how great a singer she is. I've witnessed it when she was the only one at the office congratulating our poor night shifter on boxing day when everybody else already was at home but she has returned to his lonely booth only to bring him a cake and a Happy Birthday serenade. I've been there just to collect some files and I didn't even know that Phil has turned 50 on that very day. Barbara knew.
My dear Barbara.
Earlier, after I've watched her from the shadows and Winston and I have drained a can of beer and then started to help the women painting the wall, our eyes have met a few times. She has always given me a shy smile in return but diverted her eyes. So sweet. I wonder if she knows what is going on in my mind all the time. I wonder if she approves of it. I'm not completely sure but I know I'll find the courage to make another step eventually.
Soon!
The next step that has to be made now that we have such a solid friendship. More than friendship on my side and hopefully on hers too. I have to find out or I'll keep on wondering. I'm glad that Winston has managed to steer the conversation towards dinner. He has wanted all four to go. Jenna quickly said yes but Barbara only has blushed and then mumbled something I haven't heard completely. Actually I even don't remember what I've answered but somehow I've convinced her.
She's blushing now. Am I staring? Or am I playing footsie again?
"That was so embarrassing." she says. I withdraw my feet under my chair just to be sure. The next second I put them in front of me again. Maybe an accidental touch will happen. Something to start another play of our feet.
I'd love that.
I haven't listened to what she has said but I think it was something with her appointment with the bank. I'm quite sure she's not talking about when she has half undressed herself while I watched her. That definitely was embarrassing, but it was in fact embarrassing for me. Ogling her without shame, having naughty thoughts about my Sergeant and getting caught by DC Nkata. Sitting under that tree I've kept my legs crossed for a while.
In the end it has been good that Winston was there to help me starting to help painting the wall. And to help me to my dinner date with Barbara although it wasn't what I was thinking of first. He's a cheeky bloke but Jenna seems to like him. It was easy for him to ask her out but when Jenna has tried to include us I suddenly have felt a bit like a teenage boy pushed into the direction of his crush to ask her out too.
And I think I've blushed. No, I definitely have blushed. Although it didn't matter because I saw a sweet blush creeping across Barbara's shoulders too. She had put up the bib of her dungarees again, obviously to hide the parts with naked skin she had not intended to show around. It has just been such a hot day and we all have been sweating a lot.
I swallow.
I shouldn't think of sweat. When I think of the trickles of sweat on her skin I feel something naughty rising. I know my smile is a bit stupid now but I can't help it. The memory of her wiping her nape with a bandanna right under my nose and especially the indecent thoughts that have run through my head then still make me a bit embarrassed. I hope she doesn't recognise it. I hope she can't read my thoughts on my forehead. I quite feel like she can. Briefly I wonder if I look as absent minded as she has looked earlier after dinner when she obviously wasn't listening to her friend's story. Secretly I've watched her. Well, at least I tried to do it secretly. Our eyes have met one or the other time and my mind hasn't been with Jenna too. I've thought about how I could get out of there with Barbara.
Winston and Jenna have started a tentative flirt and definitely would have preferred to be alone. Of course they haven't said it but everybody could see it. And by the way I've wanted to be alone with Barbara. I've already wanted to be alone with her for dinner but there was no way to manage that. Not after Winston and Jenna had initiated it.
When we've left them there Winston has given us such a naughty grinning good night wish I still wonder if he already has known we wouldn't drive home but have a pint instead. Although he might be a bit cheeky sometimes he's a good detective and I know he's suspecting what exactly I feel for Barbara. I scratch my own sweaty neck. Maybe after this hot day fortune will grace us with a hot night too. A sweaty hot night.
I smile. And blush. And quickly take a huge gulp of beer. As if it would wash down my dirty thoughts.
She's still talking. About what is still to do at that house I think. I still can't concentrate on her words, I just look at her. After a few moments I realise that I have cupped my chin in my hand and absent minded keep turning the glass of beer that stands on the table in front of me.
"You're not listening, Sir." she says. Her voice is a bit uncertain now. She shouldn't be. It is a nice story she's telling me although I already know most of it and haven't listened at all. I give a light chuckle. Her voice is what fills my ears and her face fills my eyes. Her beauty is what fills my brain. The beauty of her small but alluring frame in simple jeans and oversized T-shirt is what surrounds my mind and affects my lowest instincts. Oh, goodness gracious, I should stop thinking of her body, shouldn't I?
"Yes." I answer. I still smile.
Narrowing her eyes Barbara starts to nervously crunch the beer mat. During her tale she has leaned across the table and our heads have come quite close. Now she leans back and cocks her head.
"No, you're not." she murmurs. "I can see that your mind is miles away."
"Not at all." I realise I still cup my chin in my hand so I sit back, straighten my shoulders and take another sip of beer.
My words have made her even more uncertain. It's clearly visible in her questioning eyes. Unsettled she bites her lower lip, making me want to kiss her softly and soothe her irritation. I should ask her first, of course, or at least go slow, test the grounds, wait if she retreats, see if she agrees. Although I wish I could just get up and pull her into an embrace right now. How could it be that I've never felt so intense for her like I feel now? Or have I just ignored it? Have I just tried to suppress my feelings for Barbara? I shouldn't. I should tell her. But how? Just blurt it out? Or write a letter?
I have to grin and watch her eyes nervously flicker through the room. She's broken our eye contact. I've stared again and it has forced her shy look towards the crumbs of her beer mat.
"You're scary!" Her voice is tiny and hoarse now. "Please stop staring at me, Sir."
Now's the time!
"I would if I could, Barbara, but you're too beaut- oh, bloody hell!" My mobile, which laid on the table next to my car keys and the wallet (I've forgotten that those jeans were so tight), has killed my speech with a loud ring. I know what it means.
"Yes! Lynley!" I bark to whoever is calling me at the least opportune moment. I see Barbara's shoulders drop and hear her exhale. Has she held her breath?
A few moments later the wonderful evening is ruined and ends.
.
...