Part One Hundred And Fifty Eight
On the Thursday evening, George finally decided that it really was about time she broke the silence between her and John. But as she drove over to the judges' digs, she wondered how he would be towards her. He would probably do what he always did after they'd had one of their rows, be unbearably polite whilst waiting for some sign or signal from her, to either relight her anger, or banish it altogether. It was a very clever ploy, she thought wryly to herself, to force her to make the decision as to how they would behave. As she walked up the carpeted stairs and along the corridor towards his rooms, she could hear his violin. So, he was playing, which would definitely mean that he was at least relaxed. Not wanting to disturb such a beautiful sound, she slipped silently through the unlocked door, and stood in the shadows, just taking in the purity of his art.
John was standing with his back to her, but he was immediately aware of her presence, by the subtle aroma of her familiar perfume. He knew why she'd come, and he could feel her tension in the air around him. She was frightened of the reception she would receive from him, and she felt unbearably guilty for slapping him on the previous Friday evening. He knew George so well by now, that he could nearly always interpret her feelings, simply from being in the same room as her. She wasn't trying to hide them tonight, which made it all the easier. He kept on playing, letting her think that he wasn't aware of her being there, letting the music gradually seep into her soul and persuade her to relax. He was playing one of the Mozart violin concertos, fervently wishing that he had an orchestra to accompany him as he sailed rapidly through the many pages of the score. Purely to please his audience, he added an extra poignancy to the slow movement, trying to express his own apology through the music. George wasn't the only one who was sorry for what she had done. John had been accorded quite enough time to feel some sense of regret for his reckless actions back in April, a regret that he had expressed to Jo only two days ago.
When he reached the end of the fast and furious third movement, he still didn't break their silence, instead making his way over to where the violin case lay open on the table, and laying his instrument and its bow gently down in the padded satin lining. When he'd fastened the silver clips of the case with slow deliberation, he walked over to stand in front of her, fixing her with his soft inviting gaze. They stood like this for some moments, neither knowing quite what to say. Their eyes seemed to be saying everything for them, the two pairs of endless orbs telegraphing their every emotion. He could see equal amounts of need and hesitation battling in her expression, as she didn't know whether to seek his embrace, or to maintain her distance. The look of sheer relief that passed over her face when he gently put his arms round her, touched his heart, but still they didn't say a word. Their eyes were fixed on each other, as if never to be torn asunder ever again, the growing electricity crackling between them, forming an arc along which so many varied feelings were projected, from need, to apology, to plain and simple love. When, by a single move, they clung even closer together, their lips furiously crushing against the other, determined to leave no space unfilled, it took both their breath away, and seemed to release the words they had so far been unable to express. "I'm sorry," George said almost desperately, her voice very unsteady with the depth of feeling coursing through her. "So am I," John replied, equally unsteadily, the relief at having her back in his arms again throwing him temporarily off balance. They moved haphazardly over to the couch, mouths and hands perpetually wandering, the instinctive attempt to remove the other's clothing a predictable part of their usual pattern. But when they were lying in each other's arms on the long sofa, John's hands trying to undo the buttons of her blouse, George suddenly remembered the seriousness of their current situation. "John, we can't," She said a little feverishly, taking his hand in hers and halting his progress. "We can't, not until it's gone." Inwardly cursing every lack of thought that had made him pick up this damned disease in the first place, John stopped what he was doing with a significant amount of effort. She could see the battle going on inside him, the suppressing of his desire, fighting against the desperate need to let it run its course. When his pulse had calmed somewhat, and he was back in control of his body, he simply lay there, breathing in the familiar smell of her hair, and revelling in the feeling of having her close to him again.
"I think we need to talk," She said eventually, knowing that they couldn't stay like this forever. Still keeping his arms round her, as if he was afraid that he might lose her again, he agreed. "All right," He said, dropping feather-light kisses along her jaw line. "Tell me why you slapped me." Before she fulfilled his request, she ran a delicate finger along his cheekbone, to where the tiniest mark bore evidence of the cut her sapphire ring had given him. "I couldn't bear the fact that you'd cheated on us with someone who looked like me, or at least who looked how I used to, when you first met me, far too many years ago. It felt as though you'd wanted to completely eradicate everything that's happened in between, which I suspect, for a time, you probably did. When I thought about it afterwards, part of me couldn't really blame you, because I was far nicer, and far less complicated at twenty, than I am at nearly fifty, but then the saying is absolutely right, the truth really does hurt. I felt guilty for being the cause of not only you picking up the Chlamydia, but for reacting in the way I did, and then I was cross with you for making me feel like that." "George," He said, fondly kissing her. "Yes, you are complicated, but I really wouldn't have you any other way. Yes, you have the capacity to irritate me to distraction, and you also possess the ability to make me blisteringly angry on occasions, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you, or that I would rather the last thirty years hadn't happened. That argument we had, it was one of the worst we've had in a long time, and I think I wanted to hurt you, which I probably did a little too successfully." "I know, and if you'd only given the Chlamydia to me and not Jo, I'd have been cross with you for being so irresponsible, but I would probably have left it at that. But Jo got caught up in it all as well, and she certainly didn't deserve that." After a moment's silence, John tentatively said, "You feel a lot more for Jo, than you are really prepared to admit, don't you." "What makes you assume such a thing?" George asked, her body stiffening in his grasp, and immediately giving away her true answer. John laughed softly, loving the utter transparency of her. "Because the amount of highly irrational anger you showed towards me last Friday, is born out of nothing less than true, sincere loyalty of the highest kind, and," He added, kissing her more deeply this time. "Because you are now, trying far too hard to hide it from me, and given that this would add a further, very significant complexity to everything, I can hardly blame you." "John, I don't want to talk about that," George said carefully, her feelings for Jo still being far too new to her to discuss them honestly with anyone as close to the situation as he was. "Sure," He said mildly. "But you won't be able to hide from it for ever."
They lay there for quite a long time, softly kissing, occasionally talking, both of them trying to regain the feeling they were used to having for each other, trying to assuage some of the hurt they'd put each other through. When his hand tentatively moved to begin caressing her breast through her blouse, a slow smile of satisfaction spread over his face. "You really shouldn't come here, without wearing a bra, when you know I can't make love to you," He said between punctuating kisses. George laughed evilly. "Oh, I'm just putting My Lord's willpower to the test, that's all." "Now that really is positively cruel," He said in mock disapproval, his hand still moving over her silk covered skin, his thumb grazing over a steadily hardening nipple. But as he did this to her, it made George almost painfully aware of the night she'd spent with Jo last Friday. Jo had touched her like this, perhaps not with anywhere near as much skill, but with just as high a level of intensity and feeling. "This is so unfair!" She said in sheer exasperation. "I'm so frustrated, I could scream." John laughed. "Then I suppose I ought to do something about it, oughtn't I." "But that's the point, you can't," George replied acidly. "Remember all those other times I couldn't touch you?" He said with sudden inspiration. "Nearly every month you'd feel like this, desperately craving release, yet not being able to achieve it in the normal way. We usually managed to get round it then." "Oh, how right you are," She drawled in smirking memory, beginning to undo her blouse without further delay. When she had cast the cream silk aside, he briefly leaned over her to reach the remote control on the coffee table, flicking on the stereo, which currently contained Lohengrin. "There," He said as the music began. "Now you don't need to be quiet." "Think of every eventuality, don't you," She said with a sultry smile. "No, not always," He said a little ruefully. "As Karen forcefully pointed out to me." "Oh, dear," George said, trying to curtail her laugh into something not quite so mocking. "Did she lecture you?" "I felt as though I was fourteen again," He said, only now relinquishing the embarrassment he had felt. "Oh, you poor darling," She said without a hint of sincerity. But as he began kissing her again, cutting off further expressions of her amusement, she immediately abandoned any thought of further prolonging his humiliation. Dipping his head, he enclosed one of her nipples in the soft, warm, agile lips she knew so well. As he slowly encouraged her nipple to rise to a pinpoint deliciousness, she groaned in steadily increasing ecstasy. "Just try and picture Jo doing this to you too," He said, briefly detaching his lips from her, and beginning to stimulate the other nipple with his fingers. This was almost too much for George, because she had been thinking the exact same thing when he'd suggested it. Glancing up at her, John could see the faint blush on her cheeks, telling him that she'd been thinking it too. She could see it now in her mind's eye, John doing this to one breast, Jo to the other, and she almost came at the thought of it.
But just as George was approaching that point of internal combustion, there came a knock on the door. Sitting up slightly, though making no attempt to remove his hand from caressing the fleshy softness of her breast, John bade whoever it was to enter. When Jo walked into the room, she took in the sight of John and George lying in each other's arms on the sofa, and George's discarded silk blouse not far from them on the carpet. The slight glisten of saliva on one of George's nipples, made it all too clear what they'd been doing before she arrived. To break the slightly awkward pause, George said dryly, "I wish you wouldn't do that, you never know who it might have been." "I recognised the knock," John said confidently, completely unaware that his hand was still gently sweeping over a small area of George's left breast, until she removed his hand and held it in hers. "I'm pleased to see that you two are quite obviously speaking again," Jo said with a soft smile, desperately trying to keep her fascinated gaze away from George's chest. "Come and join us," John invited provocatively. Opening her mouth to reply, Jo found that she didn't quite know what to say. Foregoing any direct response, she asked, "Would you like me to go?" "No, certainly not," George replied, sitting up and reaching for her blouse to cover herself up. When John also rose to his feet, and moved to put his arms round Jo and to kiss her, Jo took one look at him and grinned. "I can see you've gone without sex for far too long," She said matter-of-factly, gesturing to the bulge in his trousers. "I think that's supposed to be my pennants," He said ruefully, kissing her for as long as it took for George to do up the buttons of her blouse. Jo found herself fancying that she could almost taste the distinctive flavour of George's skin on his lips, but this must be in her imagination.
They all sat close together on the sofa, with John in the middle, sometimes talking, but mostly just enjoying being relaxed in each other's company. When John glanced at the clock, and saw that it was nearly eleven, he had an enormous desire not to let either of them go home tonight. "Will both of you stay?" He asked quietly, hoping that he wasn't going to get the same response he had last time he made this suggestion. "How observant are your keepers these days?" Jo asked seriously, badly not wanting another encounter with the professional conduct committee. "They're far more relaxed than they used to be," John replied, knowing what she was worrying about. "Besides, they can't prove that I didn't sleep on the sofa, now can they." "Oh, so that's why you bought this sofa," George said with a self-satisfied yawn. "To maintain the pretense of propriety, whilst carrying on your illicit activities on the quiet." "Of course," John told her blandly. "Why else?" "Oh, and I thought it was so that you could be like this with both of us at once," Jo quipped in a mockingly petulant tone. She looked so defiantly cheeky, that it made John laugh. "You'd never have won with the PCC if you'd looked like that," He said in amusement. Then, turning serious again, he said, "I'm in Monty's good books at the moment, so no one will be any the wiser." "The things we do for you, John Deed," George said fondly, as he switched off the stereo, drew the curtains and followed them both upstairs. A little while later when they were all lying in his large double bed, Jo on his left, George on his right, both clad in only their underwear, John thought he must be in heaven. He had an arm round each of them, and they had their arms around him, making him feel happier and more content than he ever had done in his life. "I can't believe I'm finally getting my wish after all this time," He said quietly. "Only half your wish," George replied drowsily, tucking one of her legs over his. "A man can dream," John said philosophically, gently running his fingers through George's hair, as he ran a softly seeking hand over Jo's skin. "Someone ought to be calling out all rise," George said with a laugh, laying a hand over his boxer-covered hardness. "Don't, tease," He said firmly, lightly flicking his finger against her cheek. "At least you've never been presented with that particular reaction whilst in his chambers," Jo said with a smirk. "Ah," George said knowingly. "But has he ever said that he'd quite like to take you in his court, on the bench no less?" "John, you didn't," Jo said in half awed amazement, half shy disapproval. "That was a very long time ago," John said with more than a little embarrassment. "Anyway," He added when neither of them appeared to be taking his word for it. "I wasn't the only one who wanted to try that, we just never got round to it." "Only because you weren't a judge in those days," George replied, determined to have the last word. "He always did prefer to live dangerously," Jo put in fondly. "Look who's talking," John objected with a laugh. "After all, how do I know that both of you being here is just to please me? You might be fulfilling some bizarre little fantasy for all I know." Again finding herself slightly tongue-tied at how close to the truth John was getting, Jo was heartily grateful at George's continued bickering with him, it very usefully covering up her inability to form a coherent sentence. They grew quiet after a while, all three of them gradually drifting towards sleep. But just before the peace overcame them, he said, "I love you both," So openly and so sincerely, that it demanded a response from both of them. "And we love you too, darling," George said sleepily, as Jo leaned over to kiss him, both the words and the actions coming simultaneously from each of their hearts, uniting the three of them in this one, deeply held sentiment.