The rest of the meal went well. They relaxed. Ruth slowed down her hitherto plunge towards alcoholism. Harry felt relieved that she had not run headlong from him. He always feared it, she had almost bred that in him through experience.
They ordered a cab. When it arrived they left the restaurant and his hand slid around the small of her back as he guided her to the car and then he opened the door, like the gentleman he was, and let her get in.
On the drive back he held her hand and she did not resist.
He suggested going to his for a drink, it was nearby and from there he would order another taxi to take her home. She did not disagreed.
They got out of the cab and Harry paid the driver, as she hovered by his gate. And then he led her to the door, unlocked it and entered the house turning on the lights and heading for the kitchen to put the kettle on.
"Tea, I presume?" he called, "yes, thanks," she answered and wondered what would happen next.
Tea happened next.
They sat in Harry's living room listening to Vaughan Williams and discussing things only connected to work. It was as though they both knew the possibilities but neither wanted to acknowledge them.
"It's been a really lovely evening, Harry."
"Have you enjoyed it, really?"
"Yes, really."
"And is this…is…us...something you are okay with?"
He willed her to say yes.
"I think 'us' is something I'm beginning to love already," she said with a teasing, yet shy smile.
He looked at her and she sensed the same emotion from him she had felt in the corridor at Havensworth, it was a smouldering passion, a need, a desire and it was hard to ignore and even harder to resist.
This time she did not turn away, she did not flee to the shelter of her room. She could not, it was his house, more importantly she did not want to.
He put down his cup, he took hers from her and placed it next to his and then he leant towards her. Inch by inch he shortened the distance, he was in no hurry. And when she could smell the tea and the wine on his breath he leant even closer so that his lips brushed hers and she shivered with the expectancy of it. She pursed her lips, ready to meet his but he teased her, he kept them close but yet not close enough and when she willed them to crush hers, they passed and slid to her ear and enveloped her earlobe, finally drifting back to her lips and then he took them and devoured them and loved them.
"Harry, I…"
"Yes, I'll call the cab," he said between kisses.
They were finding it difficult to stop.
Ruth felt like a teenager who had just discovered the joy of kissing, the totality of it, the freshness of it, the desire elicited from it. And she did not want to stop.
"I told you, Ruth…." he was still kissing her, his lips were soft and full, "it's at your pace….there's no hurry," as the wave of his kisses hit another crescendo, he built her up to another peak of pleasure.
"Yes…." she gasped, between kisses, between waves, "I better go," but she didn't want to.
He manoevered her, without ever stopping his relentless, all encompassing kiss, towards the phone. And as he kissed her still his hand reached down for the receiver.
"Hello," he said. "I'd like a taxi."
She was kissing him, kissing his neck, one hand running up his back, the other nestled at the back of his neck, pulling him towards her.
"Yes, its…" The phone had gone dead. He looked over her shoulder as her kisses never ceased and he saw why, her fingers were on the hook, she had cut him off.
"Ruth?" he said, pulling his face around to hers.
"I don't want to go home, Harry," she said as her lips found his once more.
Their kisses rose and fell as the tide ebbed and flowed and when he could he gasped, "that's okay, I have a spare room." As the next waves crashed towards them both she said, "Bugger the spare room." And not only desire but joy washed over them both and suddenly life seemed very simple and very wonderful.