A/N: Beryl is a very stubborn lady with very fixed opinons and she's not afraid to share them. She surprises me every time, as does Elsie. I'm not sure why she is being so stubborn, but I'm sure it will all come out in the wash in the end. I'm sure of it. Only a few weeks until the Christmas Special, for which I am resolutely NOT getting my hopes up (which is fangirl code for my hopes are as high as the moon!). Hope you enjoy this latest and thanks for all your kind words. STILL no word on appraisal. I'm hoping to hear something Monday.

Chapter 21

His face heated every time he thought about it, which was often. The image of her settling herself on his lap, a coy, fey smile twitching about her lips, well. It caused innumerable… problems. In class that morning, he'd lost the thread of his lecture several times, mumbled and coughed his way through, all the while imagining her lips against his, the feel of her breasts crushed against him, her warmth and her scent. He couldn't dismiss them early, not again, so he simply had to make the best of it and be sure never to stray from behind the lectern. Not during today's class.

Sod it, man. It's not been that long. Oh yes it has, a snarky voice answered him back. He had a hazy memory of the last time he'd slept with a woman; silly, but now he couldn't ever use the phrase making love to describe those prior encounters. Stupid, really, but there was no other explanation for it, no reasoning out of it. From the moment he'd seen her, he knew, even if he didn't believe in any romantic nonsense, he knew that she sparked something in him. Then that ridiculous party of Beryl's, the setup of all setups, mate, spilling his drink on her beautiful dress. He smiled absently at his fumbling attempts to talk with her, at his fear that he'd ruined it all. But last night…

"Excuse me, Professor Carson? Are you alright?"

Oh, damn. "Perfectly, thank you." He fixed his students with that icy glare that he had perfected over the years. "Now," and he started shuffling his papers intently, "where was I?"

*CE*

Elsie had lingered with Beryl, sipping tea, giggling like schoolgirls.

"So."

"So?"

"I want to know what you've been up to these past few days."

"We've not been up to anything, B. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Beryl scoffed; there was no need to respond to such a pitiful attempt at redirection. "You took my advice, then?"

"Oh, yes, I did. I covered the pie in tin foil and heated it for an hour, just like you said. It was delicious, by the way." Elsie bit her lip, trying to stifle a giggle. She did love toying with B. It had been so long since B had been eager for details of her love life, so long since they could giggle and talk like they had as girls.

Beryl sighed dramatically. "I meant the other advice, love. Spit it out. What did you buy?"

"Well, I bought the whisky, of course."

"Gods damn the whisky straight to hell, girl. I mean what outfit did you buy? For heaven's sake!"

"Oh…nothing much."

"Well I should hope not. Did he like it?"

"He didn't see it."

"What? Whaddya mean he didn't see it? I mean, the two of you, well, you did. Didn't you?"

Elsie looked down at the table coyly. "We did." She looked up at Beryl wickedly. "Twice. Well thrice, actually, if you count this morning."

Beryl swatted her with a dishcloth. "I knew it. I knew it!" She crowed happily, garnering curious looks from the few straggling customers still left in the café. She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "And how was it?"

"Now you know I can't talk about that."

"Talk about it you will! Give this old married lady a bone to chew on, won't you?"

"It was very…nice."

"Nice?" scoffed Beryl. "Nice is the weather. Nice is your old maiden aunt. Nice does not put that little switch in your walk, Elsie Hughes. Nice indeed," she huffed. "You can do better than that."

"Well, it was," Elsie insisted, "in its way. I mean he's very thoughtful, is Charles. Very kind."

"Well why didn't he see your new nightie?"

"I asked him if he wanted me to wear it."

"And?" Good lord, it were like pulling hen's teeth, getting information out of this one.

"And he said I should do as I pleased," she said quietly.

Beryl nodded approvingly. "Just as I thought. The man's daft over you, you know that."

Elsie hesitated, then nodded. "I do."

"And you? How are you?"

"I'm…pleased."

"Pleased?"

"Yes, pleased," said Elsie defensively. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say how you really feel, you dozy lass! Pleased. Pleased. Unbelievable! I'm ever so pleased," she mocked in girlish tone. "It's Richard again, innit?"

"Richard has nothing to do with this," replied Elsie coldly.

"He has everything to do with it, lass," said Beryl sadly. "Don't you see? Don't you see how he's in it all, in spite of not being around?" She moved from her stool so abruptly that it clattered to the ground. "Oh, I dunno how to say it, I only know what I see. And I see you, my lady" and she pointed an accusing finger at Elsie, "mucking about with a good man."

"I'm not mucking about with him, B! Just because I won't say I'm in love with him doesn't mean I don't have feelings for him. Doesn't mean I don't care for him very much."

"Care for him? Have feelings for him? Ugh. I hate those words. They're so soft, so meaningless." She leaned in and grabbed Elsie's hands. "D'you know what I see? I see that man is in love with you." Elsie turned her face away. "Don't turn away from me; I've seen it and I know you see it too. And he's spent two nights at your flat, right? Lord knows what the two of you got up to, and I still want to hear all about it. All. But." She fixed Elsie with a piercing stare. "First you've got to be honest with me, with yourself. Why won't you let Richard go?"

Elsie pulled her hands away. "I have let him go!"

"Then why is he still here, mucking things about with our Charlie?"

"I dunno what you mean, B. He spent the night and all. I asked him to and he did. And it was lovely." She smiled. "Lovely."

"But that's just sex, my girl."
"Keep your voice down, B!" she hissed.

"Well, they'll have all heard the word by now, love. Good grief! What century are you living in anyway? What I mean is, you've got a chance for something more here, lass. Something real, like I've been telling you. The question is, are you gonna take it? Are you gonna reach out and grab hold of it and never let go?"

"Oh B. Come on. You make it sound so-"

"That's because it is so, my girl. It is. I see how he looks at you, lass, and more to the point, I see how you look at him. I dunno what you're waiting for. You've got a chance here, love, a good chance for happiness. Why won't you take it?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"I say it! Oh my gods, I could just about throttle you right now! You're just a hard-headed old Scot."

"And you're just a fiery Yorkshire woman," and she smiled at B, tears pooling in her eyes.

"You're making it harder than it has to be, lass. Don't you see that?"

"I just can't, B. I just can't. Not yet."

Beryl shook her head. "I don't understand it. I don't. But you'll give him a fair chance?" Elsie nodded, mute. "So. I'd say our Charlie were a big fella, if I had to guess?"

"Beryl!"

"I'm just asking!"

"Good grief. I've got to go, anyway." She pulled her purse strap across her shoulder. "Ta love, and thanks for everything."

"You can go now, but don't think I'm letting you off that easily. Next time…"

Elsie grinned and rushed out the door.

Next time, Beryl thought. Next time we'll finish what we started once and for all.

*CE*

Finally his lectures were done for the day, but an interminable faculty meeting had been scheduled for the end of the day, when it was easy enough, too easy, to tune out the relentless droning of the department head.

"Charles, did you hear? You look as if you're a million miles away."

He shook himself. Good lord! He'll not be able to leave the staff table for a few minutes. He'd been thinking of last night, thinking of Elsie, his Elsie, at least in his thoughts, sitting astride him. She'd been playful, coy, but with an undercurrent of almost clinical expertise, as if her goal was to prove that she would be able to please him, that her ministrations were adept, expert. She was different last night, somehow. From the moment she slid into his lap, she'd been in control. He rose to her immediately, he thought with not a little pride. He'd had such difficulties in the beginning, but Bill was right. Stage fright was all. He remembered her smile when she felt him press against her.

Interested, are we?

Very, he breathed.

She looked him straight in the eye. "I enjoyed last night."

"So did I."

"Last night, you wanted to please me."

He nodded, mute.

"Tonight, I want to please you. What can I do to please you, Charles?" Her voice was low, seductive. She lingered across the r in his name and he swore the room swayed before his eyes.

"Nothing," he stammered. "I mean, you're already doing it."

She leaned back, allowing her bottom to be cupped between his thighs. "This?"

He nodded again, any words he might have said died in his throat.

She began to unbutton his shirt, slowly, tracing his skin lightly with her fingernail. She pulled his shirttail from his pants and began to unbuckle his belt, to unbutton and unzip his pants. She managed to glide down his lap gracefully, seductively and gave him one final, coy look before lightly, gently taking him in her mouth.

"Sorry. What was that?" He would look upon the rest of the meeting as a cold shower of sorts. Keep your mind on the task at hand, lad, and maybe later you can text Elsie. He couldn't help the foolish grin that slid across his face.