Sweeney crossed the pie shop and placed a glass of gin on the table before Mrs. Lovett. She was sitting looking out through the greasy window and at the dim street, and only momentarily looked up at the barber to utter a quiet, "Ta." Sweeney pulled up a chair right next to her, leaving his left hand on the back of Mrs. Lovett's chair as he sat down.
Taking a sip of his gin, he let his eyes wander over his landlady's upper body that was leant against the table, inadvertently offering the man an enticing view of her chest. During the past few weeks they had grown immensely closer. Exchanged glances and casual gentle touches had become frequent and awaited. Even under the watchful eye of Tobias they had grown comfortable with passing each other from a considerably short distance and making secret comments.
Mrs. Lovett had made a remarkable and seemingly nearly complete recovery from her last encounter with the beadle. Physically it was virtually impossible to notice the markings he'd left on her body, and most of the time Mrs. Lovett was her usual lively self with a chirpy lilt in her tone and a skip in her step. Only occasionally did she lose the spark in her eyes and wrap her arms around herself to seal herself away from some sort of a threatening evil that Sweeney couldn't quite comprehend.
"You know, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett spoke suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of them. Sweeney raised his eyes to her face, but Mrs. Lovett seemed to have found something highly interesting behind the windowpane and didn't look at him. "Sometimes I think nothin''s ever gonna change." She sounded strange—there was a shockingly deep sorrow in her tone, as if she didn't know how pretty she looked in the gentle twilight or how much joy it brought Sweeney to finally be alone with her. "After a 'ard day's work it's always the same." Mrs. Lovett seized their entire world in a comprehensive wave of her hand. "I don't think we'll ever get out of 'ere." She heaved a hollow sigh and brought her glass to her lips.
Sweeney leaned a tad closer and asked softly, "What happened to your seaside dream?"
Mrs. Lovett turned to face him with a sad smile. "I'm afraid that's all 'tis," she said in a cheerless tone of dejection. "A dream."
Sweeney stayed silent for a little while, distracted by the desolate, defeatist look in those honest blue eyes. She fascinated him so. Just when he thought she couldn't surprise him any more, Mrs. Lovett opened up yet another emotional side of her she showed no one else, and Sweeney felt special, privileged.
"I beg to differ," he stated with a rusty smile. He lowered his hand from the backrest to Mrs. Lovett's back, gently stroking the fabric under his fingers. "After I get the judge, I'll be a free man. I'll be free to go anywhere I please." He traced the hem of her dress fondly, briefly brushing against Mrs. Lovett's bare silky skin. "And wherever I go," he added tenderly, "you go."
He hadn't thought his words through before he'd said them, and he wasn't certain if at all he meant to keep his spontaneous promise. The words, however, rung pleasantly in his head as he briefly considered the fresh prospect of a long-term companionship with the uniquely captivating woman.
A momentary surprise crossed Mrs. Lovett's features. "Oh, Mr. T," she said in a low voice. Her lips curved into a delighted smile and a hopeful spark lit up in her eyes. She looked as if she wanted to lean forward, towards the barber, but she couldn't, lest she lose the precious contact his hand had made with her.
"Now there's the Mrs. Lovett I know and adore," Sweeney said, pleased with his accomplishment of bringing Mrs. Lovett back to earth. It seemed she tended to drift off even more often than he did—an unsettling prospect indeed. It was utterly astounding how in the mere blink of an eye she could become a completely different person—now her eyes were ablaze with childlike exhilaration and glee.
Sweeney calculated his options for a minute. He could see Mrs. Lovett was waiting with baited breath for his next move, and if Sweeney knew anything at all, it was the fact that she would be more than happy about any decision he came to. The moment seemed right; every ounce of desire he'd developed for the woman during the past weeks suddenly seemed to accumulate inside him, making his hand land firmly on the back of Mrs. Lovett's head. Bluntly he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mrs. Lovett's agape mouth.
An invigorating thrill went through his body at the soft touch. He needn't have worried about Mrs. Lovett's reaction, for as soon as they'd made contact, she threw her arms around Sweeney's shoulders, holding him against her and lengthening the deep and long-awaited kiss until they were both out of breath.
When the two of them finally withdrew for a moment, they stayed within kissing distance from one another and Sweeney noticed a look of elated disbelief on Mrs. Lovett's face. He knew that his intentions must be clear to the woman from the way his breathing had grown heavy and his arm snaked around Mrs. Lovett's waist. A tentative apprehension was dissolved in him by the baker's confident reaction to his advance. She'd always had an almost forcible-like way of searching for his affection, which at present was matched equally by Sweeney's urgency to feel her closeness.
His arms wound tightly around her angular body, Sweeney stood, pulling Mrs. Lovett up against him. She hardly had enough time to gasp for air before his lips were on hers again, hungrily, insistently searching for her cooperation. He could feel her trembling with excitement in his arms, and with his mind muddled by wild thoughts about the woman he was holding against his hot body, he began slowly steering her towards the back of the house. They moved in a strange and reckless trance of eagerness and anticipation.
Only muffled sounds escaped their locked lips until they reached the doorway of Mrs. Lovett's bedroom, where Mrs. Lovett caught herself on the door jamb and withdrew from the heated barber breathlessly. Sweeney took in the sight of her eyes glimmering above a pair of flushed cheeks, his fingers tugging deftly at the taut laces on the back of Mrs. Lovett's dress.
"Do you think we ought to?" she asked in a husky whisper, and although she'd pressed her hands up against Sweeney's chest, it was evident she was pining for him every bit as much as he was for her.
Sweeney didn't answer. With merciless determination, like a thirsty vampire, he went for Mrs. Lovett's jawline, the side of her neck, her exposed collarbone and chest. A soft laugh of pleasure left Mrs. Lovett as she was pushed into her bedroom.
Sweeney was lying on his back, contentedly watching the sleeping woman in his arms and tenderly caressing the bare skin under his fingers. Their breathing had synchronised and in the early morning silence it was a relaxing sound, a sweet reminder of last night's exquisite pleasures. He was feeling all warm and fuzzy with pride, his chest bursting with an ecstatic laughter.
It wasn't as if he hadn't bedded women to their or his own satisfaction before, or that he hadn't thought he'd be up for just that after all these years. But there was something marvellously fulfilling about his latest conquest, something thrilling and delightful. Sweeney had never been prone to share his feelings with just anyone; only his nearest and dearest ever saw his tender side—and there had never been many of them.
He had fallen in love with Mrs. Lovett. He couldn't recall how or when it had happened. After all, she was not exactly the most virtuous or fetching of women. But there was something about her that excited him. Perhaps it was the way the outwardly confident and boisterous lady became a sheepish girl in the heated intimacy of the bedroom. Or the way his subtle, ardent encouragements gradually turned that girl into a seductive creature of passion. She was undeniably one of the most flirtatious females he'd ever met, and yet it felt like a tremendous victory to have charmed her into falling for him. She was also very fit for her age—a fact proven not only by her overflowing daily amount of energy but also by her dainty waistline and the youthful fullness of her bust.
Sweeney had heard that sometimes people fell in love with certain parts of someone's body; for example they could be enchanted by the shape of their partner's ears or the colour of their eyes or the way their nose wrinkled when they disapproved of something. He couldn't remember what had had the same effect on him about Lucy. She had been so beautiful… One thing he did know. Looking over the mass of red hair and past her bare shoulders, he admitted he was completely and helplessly captivated by Mrs. Lovett's back. He traced his fingers over the soft, pale skin and down the delicate line that ran between her two shoulder-blades.
As he caressed the ticklish lower back of the sleeping woman, he felt a little stir upon his chest. The bush of red hair moved and from underneath it a pair of bright blue eyes looked up at Sweeney.
"Good morning, my sweet," he said quietly. The pair of eyes squinted as their owner smiled.
"Mornin'," she replied with all the calm and satisfaction in the world in her tone. She raised her head only enough to rest her chin on Sweeney's bare chest, so she could gaze up at him. "'Ow did you sleep?" she muttered, completely content with lying between the sheets with the barber for a little while longer.
One hand still resting purposefully on the small of Mrs. Lovett's back, Sweeney brought his other hand up to caress the side of her face. "Well, the first part of the night was rather restless," he replied and took pride in the vibrant blush that raised on Mrs. Lovett's cheeks, "but after that I slept like an infant."
Mrs. Lovett closed her eyes in peaceful bliss, leaned against his hand and—if he was not still slightly groggy from sleep—Sweeney could have sworn she started purring. And even if he was just imagining the latter, it sent a warm sensation through his entire body. Sweeney had never known a woman quite as extraordinary as Mrs. Lovett.
From that morning on, life was heaven for Sweeney. He emerged from Mrs. Lovett's—Nellie, as he called her now in private—bedroom feeling more alive and optimistic than he had felt since he'd been separated from Lucy all those years ago. He felt happy, and realized now how long it had been since he'd felt that way. He was happy when the sun blinded him through his dirty windows and also when rain pounded against them. He was happy when he dined downstairs with Mrs. Lovett and Toby and when he didn't have to climb the stairs again in the evening. He was happy when he could embrace Mrs. Lovett in the kitchen and get flour on his shirt and in his hair for startling the baker. He was even happy while concealing all of this ridiculously exhilarating happiness from Tobias.
Apart from all the killing and human meat pies, life couldn't have been better. Sweeney nearly even managed to stop thinking about Joanna and the judge for a while.