Thanks for all the feedback I got for Chapter 5. Everybody likes a rumpy-pumpy chapter it seems ;-)
My Office356 expired on Friday and if it wasn't for Haveunotthought pointing me in the direction of OpenOffice, I wouldn't be posting this chapter tonight so thanks, Mrs O :-x ... and thanks also to NigtOwl22 for the generous offer :-)
The first few hundred words of this chapter are the very end of Comfort & Joy (Extended Play) and is a continuation of what happens after 'the event'. It follows on to the next part of their evening so thought those who didn't quite fancy reading the naughty stuff would want this.
Thanks all for the reviews you've left because it really does mean a lot :-)))
Chapter 6
Dempsey moved his head to the side, nuzzling against her cheek. "That was amazing," he smiled. "You're amazing."
Harry turned luxuriantly beneath him, twining her legs with his as he half rolled, taking her into his arms.
"It was quite wonderful."
She placed a lazy kiss on his chest, suddenly so tired, feeling as though she were sinking into his body.
"I love you, Princess. Don't think you got any idea how much."
"You can explain to me exactly how much if you like. I don't think I'm likely to get bored."
"Okaaaay. Lemme see." He sighed, pretending to think. "So you know that Dire Straits song, Romeo and Juliet?" He tightened his arms around her, cuddling her to him and then half crooned the lyrics, "Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry, you said, I love you like the stars above, I'll love you 'til I die."
She smiled warmly. "I know the song."
"Well, I can't hear that song without I change the name Juliet to Harriet. It's kinda your song now… well in my mind anyways. Is that sappy or what?"
"Very," she laughed. "But quite nice. And since it seems to be confession time, I may as well tell you how I bruised my shin last month."
She had acquired a corker of a bruise on her right shin three or four weeks earlier, the sort that started out life as a black lump and gradually subsided as it worked its way through the various hues of purple, blue and yellow.
"Thought you did that on the coffee table," he remembered.
"I did. But I didn't tell you what I was doing at the time."
"Doing?!" Dempsey's head jerked up and he turned his head awkwardly to look at her. "You gonna tell me it involved your panties around your ankles?"
"No, you dirty beast," she cut him off, laughing, "nothing of the sort!"
His head fell back onto the pillow dejectedly. "Uh. So what was you doin'?"
"I'd heard a car pull up on the drive and the engine sounded exactly the same as yours does. I'd thought you were paying me an unexpected visit and got a bit over-excited. I bashed my leg as I jumped up."
Dempsey laughed loudly. "I like that. That's cute. I'm gonna remember that." He lowered his head and dipped down to kiss her mouth. "I'm gonna remember everything," he told her quietly.
Harry closed her eyes and let his consummate gentleness wash over her. "Me too."
They both drifted into a light sleep, their vigorous lovemaking having taken its toll. A quarter of an hour later though, Harry stirred, snuggling against Dempsey's chest.
"Okay?" he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm hungry."
"Again?" He chuckled sleepily.
Harry smiled. "For food. I keep catching a whiff of our Christmas dinner."
"I already ate."
"What?"
It took a moment for it to sink in but when it did she lifted a hand to swat him across the chest. "Dempsey!" she tutted. But she snuggled back down contentedly.
"What time is it anyway?" he asked.
"I have no idea. Nine o'clock?" she guessed idly.
Raising himself up on one elbow, Harry still wrapped around him, he twisted to get the bedside alarm clock into view. "Twenty past ten! Time flies when you're havin' sex."
"Is it really?" She was surprised but still made no effort to move. "We really should go down and eat."
"Mmm." His lips caressed her temple. "You really wanna fit in all of the positions tonight, dontcha?"
"You're terrible!" But an image had already deposited itself quite easily in her mind and it didn't seem altogether objectionable. Still, they definitely required sustenance after burning all that energy.
"Okay, let's go eat this fabulous festive dinner you've spent all day preparing. I guess we've worked up an appetite for it."
"Actually, I'm starving."
Harry slipped from his embrace and wrapped herself in the short, thin towelling robe hanging on the back of the door. It was plain white and accentuated her tan perfectly.
"I'm just going to freshen up first," and Dempsey figured that was code for, 'I'm going to the bathroom and I need some privacy'.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he called, stopping her in her tracks. "You just gonna love me an' leave me?" He was leaning up on both elbows with a hangdog expression.
Harry sauntered back to the bed to stand over him, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.
"Don't I get a kiss?" he asked plaintively.
She bent down and as her lips touched his, he sat up and reached his arms around to slide his hands up the backs of her thighs.
"You got the greatest ass in the world," he told her salaciously as he stroked the juicy peach.
"Really, Dempsey," she reprimanded, immediately slipping into self-deflection mode, "that sounds exactly like a motto from a piece of tacky seaside merchandise."
"Honey, you could wear hot pants with 'Beach Babe' written across your cheeks n' you still would look a class act."
"In your world, maybe."
Oh what a stupid thing to say. How much of a snob do I sound?
"Sexist pigs are easily pleased," she added, wriggling her bottom distractingly.
Dempsey grinned. "Good save."
She sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"I know you didn't, Princess but hey, you're classy an' I ain't. It's just a fact. No biggie."
She kissed him sweetly before standing up straight again. "And completely irrelevant anyway," she said dismissively.
She left the bedroom and a few moments later the bathroom door could be heard closing.
Dempsey sat up with a grimace and massaged his shoulder. It was starting to kick in again.
Edging himself off the bed, he fell on his jacket lying over the back of the chair and anxiously riffled through the pockets, forgetting exactly where he had put them in his haste.
A fresh supply. A new supplier.
Whoever it was who'd said love is pain sure knew what they were talking about.
He swallowed a couple of the pills dry – but boy, was she worth it.
He was amazed and amused all over again when he got back downstairs, wearing the faded T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants that were kept in the bathroom chest for his stopovers.
Harry had really pushed the boat out with this Christmas thing.
He let his fingers trail lightly over the fake holly and ivy that twisted with the sparkly lights around the handrail of the staircase as he descended.
Pretty.
And he noticed the two ceiling decorations hanging in the square hallway for the first time too; large, ornate foil lanterns that seemed to glow like molten gold.
With a lingering look at the impressive Christmas tree, Dempsey sauntered through to the kitchen where he could hear sounds of activity.
Harry, in her short, white robe turned away from the hob as he walked in, a pan of simmering gravy in her hands.
"It's ready when you are," she smiled. "I've had a look and everything still seems okay apart from the roast potatoes which might be a bit past their prime."
He rubbed his hands together. "Bring it on."
As she transferred the gravy into a pottery boat, he went and stood behind her, arms about her waist. He gave a long, contented sigh. "This is great."
"It's only gravy," she joked.
He laughed, kissing the side of her neck. "This. All of it. The whole shebang. You got me feelin' all mushy."
"Oooh, do I get extra points for mushiness?"
Damn! Before he'd come down, she'd been wondering what her score sheet looked like at the moment, how Dempsey had rated her. It hadn't been such a torturous thought this time, more of a poking fun at herself moment. He seemed to be more than happy with the way 'it' had turned out though and once she'd got around her problem with his seemingly uncanny ability to 'hit the spot' as it were, she had felt a lot less anxious.
"Was kinda hopin' those extra points would go to me. I don't usually do mushy and I definitely don't admit to it."
"Noted," she told him coolly, inwardly rejoicing.
Putting the boat onto its matching stand, she turned with it but found Dempsey unwilling to relinquish his hold on her. She looked up behind her to meet his soppy grin. "You're going to have to let go now."
"Just another couple minutes."
"Move it!" she instructed, laughing as she eased him back with her elbows.
She accepted his kiss with a good grace and then headed out of the kitchen.
"Anything you need me to bring?" he called,
"Just yourself." Again, cool and teasing, the words themselves the loving hook.
The dining room was resplendent in red, gold and green. There was nothing gaudy about the way Harry had decorated this room; it was reminiscent of a thoroughly Victorian Christmas.
Deep red velvet ribbons adorned a small tree which stood on the sideboard, cherub style plaster angels standing either end of it. On the back wall hung a large, oval wreath decorated with pine cones and berries, nine woven silk gold reindeer and in the centre, a Victorian Father Christmas riding a magnificent sleigh.
But it was the table itself which most impressed Dempsey. It had been fully extended so as to accommodate the warming plates set up on one side and it was here that Harry placed the gravy boat, beside the huge turkey.
"We expecting guests?" he asked, amazed by the number of serving dishes he counted.
"If you're going to do Christmas you may as well do it properly," she replied. "Besides, I've got plenty of room in the freezer."
"You definitely got December 25th covered, that's for sure."
There were two adjacent place settings at the opposite end of the table, silver cutlery and crisp white table linen overlaid by a beautifully embroidered table runner.
"Don't stand on ceremony," said Harry, grabbing herself a dinner plate from one of the settings and taking the lids off a couple of the dishes.
"Baby, this is incredible. I'm seriously impressed here."
His eyes travelled the length of the table, taking in the magnificent centrepiece of holly and ivy surrounding an elaborate arrangement of wax fruit.
Six delicate glass candle holders stood at intervals between the intertwined lengths of foliage to illuminate the display beautifully.
"Most of the decorations came from Winfield Hall," she told him. "Some of them are quite old. They were my grandparents' originally. Freddy gave me two huge boxes full when I left home and made me promise to put them to good use. He and my mother used to throw big parties at Christmas time but after she died of course, it became a much more low key affair."
She spooned some mashed potatoes onto her plate, wrinkling her nose at the stodgy consistency. "This has definitely lost its appeal now."
"It'll be great," he dismissed. "But he still does the party thing. Last Christmas was knock-out. An' then he does the Summer Ball every year, right?"
"It's all on a much smaller scale now; family and friends. In the old days there'd be a couple of hundred guests attending, I doubt there were above fifty last Christmas."
She pointed to the turkey, still covered over with foil. "Would you mind carving off some of the turkey? I dare say it's stone cold but it'll do."
Happy to oblige, Dempsey picked up the carving knife and fork and peeled back the foil. This simple request meant a lot to him. It might only be the two of them here tonight but it was the hidden connotations for him; it was a job that traditionally fell to the head of the household, the man of the house. He wasn't under any illusion that this had occurred to Harry but it was still there and it made him happy in some crazy, cheesy way.
"I'll consider myself honored to have gotten an invite then. Not that I didn't before," he added with a grin.
Upon discovering that Dempsey was at a loose end last year, Harry had invited him to spend Christmas with her and her father at Winfield Hall. He'd been reluctant at first, not wanting to intrude on what would obviously be a family occasion. But Harry had been very cool about it, playing it down as an 'open doors affair' and assuring him an extra place at the table and a bed in one of the guest rooms really wasn't a big deal.
He'd ended up having a great time during the three days he spent there, meeting various distant relatives who came and went during that period and getting to now some of Harry's close family who were staying for the week. He had almost wished he hadn't agreed to the plans he'd made for New Year but figured the change of pace wouldn't do any harm and besides, he probably shouldn't outstay his welcome at Winfield Hall.
It was during that time, when he'd got to see a whole other facet to Harry that he saw now as the time when the love had begun to set in.
Seeing the way she molly-coddled her Great Aunt Mathilda had been the cutest thing and in turn, the obvious affection her Uncle Edmund and Uncle Duffy had for Harry was pretty special too. Sure there seemed to be more oddballs coming and going than any one family had a right to but on the whole, they were a cool bunch of nut jobs.
He placed two large slices of turkey breast on Harry's plate and continued to carve for himself as she proceeded to pile on more food from every dish.
"Hungry, huh?"
"I told you, I'm starving," she said, picking up a roasted parsnip in her fingers and eating it with obvious relish.
"Lemme guess, you spent the whole day cookin' up a storm an' never got around to eatin' anythin'."
"Exactly."
Dempsey served himself with brussel sprouts and carrots and asked, "Does that account for your appetite in the bedroom too?"
Harry could do nothing to prevent the blush that stained her cheeks, a blush that really had no cause to be there at all after what had just taken place. Although Dempsey was obviously pleased that she had enjoyed the sex, his somewhat arrant attitude brought with it a mild wave of embarrassment for Harry. She found it difficult to be so blaze about it and actually highlighting her unexpectedly voracious experience made her feel ever so slightly slutty.
He put his free arm around her and whispered into her ear, "We need to leave room for second helpings."
Funny how he knew just the right thing to say. The use of the word 'we' made all the difference because suddenly it was about them again, the attention deflected away from herself. Even if it had been unintentional, Harry felt the discomfort slip away along with her blushes.
She turned her head to receive the kiss she knew was waiting for her. "That sounds like a good idea," she agreed, just before his lips crushed softly against hers. She had thought it was going to be a quick, friendly exchange but the warmth and tenderness that blossomed so quickly held them together with a delicious sweetness. As they finally parted, Harry looked up into his eyes, a little mesmerised.
"I don't know what it is about you, James," she said with burlesque curiosity.
"You don't? Some detective you turned out to be. You can't see charm, wit and devilishly handsome good looks when they're starin' you right in the face?"
He held her gaze unfalteringly, a teasing smile making her heart flutter.
"I'll admit I've been a little slow on the uptake," she said playfully. "Or maybe you just hide those attributes exceptionally well."
"Hey now..." Dempsey started to object but Harry kissed him again swiftly and moved out of his embrace to pour gravy over her mini mountain of food.
Dempsey laughed and followed suit.
They sat themselves at the end of the table and Harry picked up the pot of cranberry sauce, offering some to Dempsey.
"Isn't this the wrong season for cranberries?" he asked, spooning a hefty dollop onto his plate.
She began to explain that unfortunately she'd had to use a jar of it from a hamper she'd received last year but was stopped by the raucous, muffled chuckle as he forked food into his mouth.
"I'm messin' with you! Forget the cranberries, I can't believe you managed to get hold of half of this stuff!"
"Two parts desk work to one part leg work if you must know," she replied haughtily and then descended ravenously upon her dinner.
"Boy, this is good," Dempsey said in between mouthfuls. He eyed the large glass goblet by his plate. "I'm gonna get a Coke. You want anythin'?" he asked, pushing his chair back from the table.
Over the last couple of weeks, he had stopped asking if it was okay to help himself. He'd started acting like he was at home – and Harry felt stupidly happy because of it.
"I'll have water, thanks. Lots of ice."
He leaned over to kiss her as he walked past.
"Go easy. Don't want you puttin' out the fire."
There wasn't much danger of that with him around to fan the flames.
Whilst he was fetching their drinks, Harry realised she'd forgotten all about the mulled wine she'd put into a jug and left on the end of one of the hot plates.
Still chewing on a mouthful of food, she got up and poured out a glass for each of them. Might just as well – once their thirst had been quenched, the spiced wine would go down nicely with the meal and besides, she was very much in the mood for getting comfortably 'merry' with James tonight. She took a large sip and smiled to herself... very much in the mood full stop. He came back and after pulling the ring on his can of Coke and drinking down half of it without even sitting, he ineffectually covered a burp with his hand and then took a cassette tape from his shorts pocket. He went to the CD radio cassette player that resided near the bookcase.
"Ambiance," he stated, hitting the button. "I wanna remember every detail of tonight an' this kinda music sets memories in stone, ya know. This is a really great tape"
Harry laughed as the opening track of the B side kicked in; Sinatra singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.
Dempsey then went on to tell her how he'd grown up listening to this kind of music; The Rat Pack, Julie London, Billie Holiday, had all dominated the airwaves in his parent's house when he was small.
"Actually, me too," Harry said. "Not really my decade but Freddy's probably the same age as your parents and he's always had a thing for the American crooners. He always used to have the record player on in his study," she remembered, getting up to serve herself another slice of turkey. "Still does in fact but it's more likely to be Mozart these days... What?" she asked suspiciously, catching him staring at her intently as she wandered back.
"Nothin'. Just admiring the view."
"Are you now?" she smiled, knowingly.
She put her plate down and was about to retake her seat when Dempsey reached an arm out and pulled her down onto his lap. "Yup. That a problem for you?"
"Just about tolerable," she grinned, her arms about his neck.
It was so nice being in his embrace. She felt so comfortable, completely at ease. Making love had been that final barrier between them and now it was done, she felt closer to him than she had any man. It was funny but even her husband, Robert, had never been able to complete her like this. On paper, they had so much more in common than she and Dempsey; the same sort of privileged upbringing, a similar level of education and the same general lifestyle but it still hadn't worked. Dempsey was almost the exact opposite and that in itself had been a huge obstacle when her feelings for him had begun to so unaccountably change. How could that sort of relationship possibly exist between them? Dempsey was so far removed from being her type it was laughable.
But some things were just meant to be.
"We're supposed to be eating," she laughed as one hand smoothed across her back, the other gently squeezing her bottom.
"We got all night," he murmured as he kissed behind her ear, causing her to wriggle, "to eat," another teasing kiss, "to drink," his fingers inching down her robe allowing his lips to drift across her shoulder, "...to make love."
She felt that familiar twinge of desire, that throbbing pang that she experienced so readily and so frequently when she was near him. Only now it was more intense, as though her body, knowing what it could expect, was goading her on.
His fingertips were feather-light along her spine, making her painfully aware of the fabric that separated them from her skin. His breath was soft as he worked his way down to the curve of her breast.
"But what order we do them in is up for discussion."
"Oh really, Dempsey? That isn't like you at all."
His hair was tickling against her throat, making her squirm all the more and when his kisses transferred to her throat, she began to giggle. "You've always been the 'shoot first, ask questions later' type."
Dempsey went in for the kill then, nuzzling into her neck, hands squeezing at her waist, going for maximum convulsion effect.
"You talkin' dirty again, Sergeant?"
Harry's wriggling and shrieking on his lap was having a knock-on effect and Dempsey found himself struggling to keep her balanced as he himself rocked with insuppressible laughter.
"Stop it, now. Stop!" Harry managed to gasp when his grip slackened from her waist for a moment. "I mean it, James... seriously, you'll make me throw up!"
But that only succeeded in fetching another riotous peel of laughter from them both.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," he cried. "Just stay where you are..." he reached over and pulled Harry's plate closer to his own, "...an' I'll feed ya, 'kay?"
She tutted, still giggling as he brought a forkful of stuffing and cranberry sauce to her mouth. "I'm not a baby!"
The food was pushed to her lips and she accepted it with a grin.
"Sure you are – you're my baby... babe."
Harry looked down at him, a tidal wave of love washing over her. "Oh, you think so, do you?"
She attempted a haughty look which was quite difficult to achieve with a mouthful of food.
"I know so."
That dark brown voice had the power to make her physically weaken; like warm, strong hands on tired muscles, it could induce a feeling of comfort or provoke a burning sensuality. Right now, the latter was in progress.
As he gazed into her eyes, Harry swallowed, wanting him more than ever.
When the sudden two note chime of the doorbell resonated from out in the hallway, they drew apart, mildly startled by the intrusion into their private little world.
"It's nearly eleven!" Harry exclaimed, disgruntlement rising above surprise.
"Any ideas?" Dempsey asked as they got to their feet.
"No but no one turns up on your doorstep this late at night unless they're the bearers of bad news or they're pissed and neither one is welcome here tonight I'm afraid."
Dempsey hovered a little helplessly as Harry marched out into the hall. Should he make himself scarce? Should he go with her to the door? Could be anybody out there – all kinds of nut jobs roaming the streets after dark. But knowing Harry the way he did, she wouldn't thank him for his concern a.k.a. over-protectiveness as she'd see it.
Just a couple of steps past the brightly lit Christmas tree, Harry suddenly knew exactly who it was who stood on the other side of her front door.
Their first night of togetherness was, unfortunately, about to be curtailed.