Chapter 12

I stayed with Arthur until he had to go to work. It was a single children's party and he wasn't required to go to his workplace first, so he put on his clown outfit and his face paint in the apartment. I watched him paint his face white, then add the blue diamonds around his eyes, and the huge red smile that made him look happy, even though his eyes were still filled with despair. He had a new green checked jacket to replace the one he'd lost on the train when the three morons attacked him.

I gave him a hug at the door as he locked up, and he promised to call when he got home. He did call, but his voice on the phone was quiet and sad. The party had gone well, and he got a tip in addition to his fee, but he didn't feel any better. He told me he would go to bed and sleep.

I felt sad for him. I fretted and worried, and wished I could be with him even though I couldn't do anything to help. But he probably needed his own space. When I was down, I didn't like interacting with anyone else and even if he'd been okay and he didn't suffer like this, I wouldn't have wanted him to see me wallowing. I hadn't for quite some time, but those feelings lingered in the background, waiting to pounce without warning. Arthur's situation was much worse than mine. I left him alone and went to see Sophie in the evening.

The next morning, my phone rang at six thirty. I ran from the shower, wrapped in a towel and dripping, to grab it.

"Arthur?"

"How did you know it's me?"

"I hoped it was. I don't get many calls."

"I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't. I was in the shower, getting ready for work. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Would you like to come down for breakfast? I ruined yesterday."

"You didn't ruin anything," I told him. "You can't help feeling bad sometimes, Arthur. Don't worry about it."

"I suffered for it. Taking my meds without food makes my stomach hurt. But I'm fine now."

"I'll be ten minutes. I just need to get dressed."

Arthur chuckled, much to my surprise. Then he cleared his throat, and I imagined his cheeks reddening. I risked teasing him.

"What are you thinking about, Arthur? Me all wet in a towel?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can think however you like about me."

"If you knew what I think about, it would make you blush." He coughed.

"I'm sure it's not very different to what I think about. I'll be with you in ten minutes."

I hurried to dry off and get dressed for work. When I reached Arthur's door, it was open and he was leaning on the jamb waiting for me, wearing a cream shirt and blue trousers. He smiled and his eyes lit up.

"Hello, Audra. You look lovely."

"I'm in my coat and my hair's wet. I hurried," I said.

"You look lovely whatever you wear." He tugged me inside and closed the door. A moment later, his lips were on mine. He was definitely feeling better. He broke the kiss briefly to say, "Let's take this off," as he began undoing my coat buttons. Then his lips returned to mine and he thrust in with his tongue.

The heated welcome surprised and delighted me. I let my bag and coat fall to the floor, before Arthur shuffled us into the living room, still kissing me and holding me tight against him. His erection was unmistakeable, nudging my thigh through our clothes. A vision of us waking up together one morning came into my head—waking up together in his bed or mine, naked, instantly moving into each other's arms to kiss and make love.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Arthur gasped, suddenly pressing his face into my neck. "You need to go to work."

"I have plenty of time. I'm enjoying this warm welcome." I ran my hands up and down his back.

"Still, we should stop, or I'll need another shower." He laughed and flushed. "I was going to make breakfast. Can we pick this up again later?"

"Definitely." I grinned and smoothed down my damp hair. "What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs. How do you like them?"

"Any way you like them."

"Okay." He released me and backed away, then flushed scarlet and shoved his hands into his pockets to disguise the impressive bulge in his pants. He coughed, turned around, and shot into the kitchen. I giggled and retrieved my coat and bag from the hall floor.

Arthur made scrambled eggs—creamy and buttery, well-seasoned and with chives added—with toast and coffee. We ate with the plates on our laps in the living room. As delicious as the food was, I was distracted by him sitting close beside me, our passionate kisses in the forefront of my mind. I wanted more, and from the way he repeatedly glanced at me, his face flushed as he picked at his food, I guessed he was thinking the same thing. If only we didn't have to go to work.

But unfortunately, time was marching on. Far too soon we had to leave the apartment and make our way down the endless steps towards the station. Arthur held my hand as we walked, and talked about ordering some takeaway food later so we could relax and not have to make anything. He invited himself to my apartment, convinced my place was nicer and cleaner than his. Would tonight be the night?

I thought about it all day, distracted enough that both Jason and Jessica asked me if I was okay. Jessica didn't look convinced by my simple answer of "Fine," but she didn't ask until we left for the day.

"So, what's on your mind?" she said as we walked away from the building. "Arthur, by any chance?"

I grinned. "What gives you that idea?"

"Other than you barely hearing a word Jason or I said all day? Smiling to yourself and trying not to? Sparkly eyes?"

"I wasn't that bad." My face warmed.

"You were, and now you're blushing, too."

"Shut up." I elbowed her. "Let's just say things are going well."

We parted company after a few minutes and headed off in different directions. Arthur had said that morning he had several jobs and wouldn't be travelling home until later, so I took the train on my own. When I got back, I did some cleaning, changed my bedding just in case, and took another shower. Laughing at myself, I tried on four outfits before I settled on dark green culottes and a simple white long-sleeved T-shirt. Arthur arrived just before seven, in a different outfit and with damp hair as if he'd showered, too. He passed me a brown paper bag, its shape telling me it held a bottle.

"Thank you, Arthur." I took out the bottle and discovered dry white wine—my favourite. "I'll put it in the fridge to chill."

He followed me into the kitchen, and after I closed the fridge door, I turned around to find him right behind me. He slid his arms around me and kissed the tip of my nose. "That's a really small refrigerator."

I laughed. "And here was me, thinking you were going to say something romantic."

"I'm sorry. It just reminded me of something." His face fell and his eyes took on that lost expression he often got.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, really. I'm sorry," he repeated. He made to pull away, but I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tight.

"What is it about the fridge?"

"Just that after my mother died, I got in mine."

"You got in the fridge?" My eyes widened in shock.

"I wanted to escape. Shut myself off from everything."

"You could have passed out. Died in there."

"I didn't. I'm sorry I told you that. I didn't want to spoil the evening. I just remembered it, that's all. Maybe you think I should still be in Arkham." He barked out a laugh, then tugged free of my arms and covered his mouth with both hands to stifle it.

"It's okay, Arthur. You haven't spoilt anything. I want to know about these things. I want to understand. I love you, Arthur. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," he gasped. His laughter subsided. "I love you, too. I still don't think I deserve you."

"I think we're good for each other." I took his hand. "You make me happy, Arthur. You make me feel special, and you're a gentleman."

Suddenly, he smiled again. "I wasn't very much of a gentleman this morning. Especially not in my head."

"Well, I wasn't very much of a lady in my head this morning, either. Or all day, in fact." I giggled. "Shall we order some food? Relax for a while and have some of that wine?"

"Okay."

We ordered Thai food. Arthur had never tried that either but discovered some of it was similar to the Chinese meals we'd had. I put on a record to listen to while we ate and drank the wine. Arthur cleared away the plates and I finished the last glass, feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy from the alcohol. When he returned, he looked nervous again, wiping his hands on his trouser legs, eyes darting about and not meeting mine. I caught his hand and drew him down beside me on the sofa.

"Do you, um, do you want some coffee? I could make some?"

"I don't want coffee, Arthur. I want you to kiss me," I said softly. "There's no need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous about kissing. I'm nervous about what comes after the kissing. I don't want to mess it up."

"You won't." I touched his face and made him look at me. "There's no rush. If we only kiss and do what we did the other night, that's okay."

He licked his lips, then covered my hand with his, where it rested on his cheek. "You're so patient. I don't feel patient at all, but I don't want to be like I was when I was off my meds."

"You won't be." I leaned in closer and pressed my lips to his. "Don't think so much. Just go with what you feel."

He lifted his hands and ran his fingers through my hair, combing the strands and smoothing it around my shoulders. "I love your hair. It's like silk." He moved closer and kissed me, a light brush of lips at first, before he deepened it and slid his arms around me. I rested my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thundering of his heart under my palm. A rush of heat filled me as his lips caressed mine, his tongue emerging to explore, suddenly as eager as he had been that morning. His hands roamed over my back, tracing the shape of my shoulder blades, running up and down my spine. He broke the kiss and lowered his face to my neck to nibble at my collarbone. Slowly, he pulled the bottom of my T-shirt free of my waistband.

"You want to take it off?" I whispered.

"Yes. Can I?"

"Sure." I put my arms up as he pulled the garment up and off, then tossed it aside. Underneath, I was wearing my newest, prettiest white silk bra with lace trimmings. Most of my underwear was plain and functional, but I kept a couple of nice sets in case an occasion called for them. Arthur traced the strap from my shoulder down to the cup with one finger, then followed it around over the top of my breast. He had probably never seen a woman in her bra for real. That time we'd had sex, we hadn't taken any clothes off.

I glanced down, noting the bulge in Arthur's trousers. I longed to touch him, but I didn't want to rush things, or make him more nervous. I rested my hand on his knee instead, and slowly stroked the lower part of his thigh.

"You're so pretty," he breathed. Carefully, he cupped my breasts in his hands and ran his thumbs over the silk-covered flesh. The touch was so light as to be barely there, but watching his fingers gently touching me excited me so much. My nipples stiffened under the soft fabric, and heat spread between my legs. I squirmed, unable to stop myself remembering how he felt inside me—long and thick and hot.

"God, Arthur," I groaned.

His hands froze. "Shall I stop?"

"No. Please don't. I love you touching me."

"Shall we lie down?"

I met his eyes. "Do you want to lie down on my bed instead? It'll be more comfortable."

His pupils widened, and he licked his lips, nervous, then nodded. "Yes, that would be good."

"Come on." I stood and grasped his hand, tugging him up. Silently, he followed me into my bedroom. Tempted as I was to throw off the rest of my clothes, I sat on the bed still wearing my culottes and bra and waited for him to let me know he wanted to move things forward.

Hesitantly, he unfastened a couple of shirt buttons with trembling hands, then stopped and pulled the fabric closed over his chest. "I'm not nice to look at. Not like you."

"I have seen you, Arthur." I tried not to dwell on the image of him curled up on the couch in his underwear, bleeding. "You have nothing to worry about, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can keep it on."

"Um, well, I guess…" Reddening, he unfastened the rest of the buttons, took off the shirt, and laid it neatly on the chair in the corner of the room. His ribcage wasn't quite so pronounced as when I'd last seen him without a shirt, and it pleased me to see he was obviously eating better, even when we didn't dine together.

"You look good, Arthur. Healthy. Come and sit down with me."

He sat on the edge of the bed, half-facing me, knees bumping mine. "I'm not very good at this."

"You're doing fine." I took his hand and squeezed it. "Just do what feels right."

"I want to—" He flushed deeper. "I want to see you."

"Lie down." I let go of his hand and stood up. He crawled into the middle of the bed and lay down on his side, head resting on my pillow. I unfastened the culottes and let them fall to the ground, leaving me clad in only the bra and matching panties. "Is this better?"

He grinned suddenly. "More. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." I reached behind to unclip my bra, not missing Arthur's sharp intake of breath as it fell away, leaving my breasts uncovered. I dropped it on the floor and indicated the last garment. "On or off?"

"O-off. Please."

I slid my thumbs into the sides of the scrap of silk, lowered them quickly, and stepped out of them. Then I joined Arthur on the bed, resting on my side facing him, a small gap between us.

"So beautiful," Arthur whispered. His eyes darted about, drinking all of me in, occasionally licking his lips as if he were viewing a particularly appetising feast. I stayed silent and let him look. Whatever happened next was all about what he wanted, however impatient I might be for the next step.