A/N: EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING. If you read Alexandre Dumas you can tell he was a chef, he goes into a lot of detail whenever anyone cooks or eats anything. In this chapter it becomes clear I'm a sex addict.

Carrie set the book down on the kitchen table with her beer and she carefully wrapped it once more in brown paper before looking up at him, he brought the red cushions in that they'd been sitting on and after closing the doors he pushed them against the bottom of the door on the floor. Carrie watched him close the kitchen shutters, she looked through to the windows in his lounge but they were already done.

"Can I do anything?" she asked.

"You just sit down somewhere, it's all done," he smiled at her. "I'm just going to go upstairs, double check Tom kept his window shut before he went out tonight."

"You could give me the tour as we double check?" she offered.

"If you want," he shrugged and she followed him, leaving their beers and his book on the kitchen table.

Carrie followed him upstairs, he went to Tom's room and checked the window, "it's fine," he told her and she followed him in, in the gloom she looked at Tom Cooper's bedroom."

"It used to be Coop's," Donald told her, "Tom's the man of the house now though, so, you know, he gets the big bed." She laughed a little. "Murph's over here," he showed her to his granddaughter's room, it was as she'd expected, full of books. They moved into the hall, "bathroom," he pointed, "spare room, well, it's still got all of Tom's stuff in it, he's just spreading it around. I'm at the end there, you saw the kitchen and the lounge downstairs. I guess we can't really do the barn right now." He trailed off.

"Can I see your room?" she asked.

"Knock yourself out," he led her to his door and opened it, she walked in and looked up at the book shelves, not as many as in Murph's room and not nearly so many with titles on the spines. She walked to the shelves and looked at the coloured blocks with interest,"

"What are they?" she asked and she pulled one out slowly, he watched her in silence, letting her look. They were photograph albums.

She looked up at him and smiled in sweet surprise. The house shook very slightly as the cloud hit it and Donald watched the dust lift from the floor and the walls. "Oh," he said and he shook his head, he opened a drawer in the cabinet by his door and handed her the facemask. "Just to be safe," he told her and she took it and put it on covering her nose and mouth. He left her in the room for a moment to retrieve a second mask and Carrie sat on his bed and looked through the album. Pictures of his relatives from way back, probably from before he was born, he had centuries of photographs shelved neatly.

"I guess it's pretty tragic, huh?" he returned with his own mask on and he sat down on the stool by the dresser and looked at her turning the pages. "Me living in here with all my memories."

"It's nice," she told him quietly but she didn't look up from the photographs.

"Which ones are you looking at?" he asked and she held it up for him to see. "That's my mother's family," he told her, "they came from England originally, Britain I mean, you know, Europe."

"Are these pictures of England?" she asked with interest.

"Some of them, yeah," he moved and sat down on the bed too, "this one," he pointed out, "all these," he turned the pages, "Every single town in Britain looked like that," he told her, "never more than three storeys to a building, isn't that funny for such a small place?"

Carrie closed the album, stood up and put it in its place, she sat back down and looked up at him sitting next to her, behind her, on the opposite side of his bed. "Donald," she said his name quietly, "You know I just want us to be friends, but, I mean," she looked down at her hands, he looked down at her hands too, "this is so stupid," she shook her head and spoke quietly to herself.

"I'm sure it isn't," he assured her.

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes crinkled in the corners though he couldn't see her mouth beneath the white mask, "I don't want any romance," she stressed, "I don't need that, but, but it would be nice for- for some affection, can I- can I hug you?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course you can, Sweetheart," he told her kindly. And with his permission she moved towards him on his bed and put her arms around him, he held her gently, a little awkwardly across the bed. "Come on," he let go of her "this won't do," he held her hand but stood up and walked around the bed to sit next to her, she put her arms around him again and he held her more comfortably by his side.

She was silent in his arms and she kept her eyes closed. "You've got to have contact," he told her gently, reassuringly, "the way you care for those kids, I'm sorry you're not allowed to hug them, that always seemed such a stupid rule if you ask me, I bet lots of them could do with a hug from you."

"Thanks, Donald," she said quietly, muffled through her mask and against his shoulder. "I wasn't sure," she let go a little but reached for his hands, he let her hold them, "I wasn't sure if you'd get it, if you'd let me."

"I get it," he said gently. "I really am sorry your mom left," he said quietly.

"I reminded her too much of him," Carrie said quietly, "it upset her."

"Some people are like that," he shrugged, "it's a real shame they are, especially if it means leaving someone on their own, someone who I guess hasn't been on their own before?" he tried.

She shook her head, "I was an Only Child," she admitted and she let go of his hands and put her own hands back in her lap, "so even though I've always lived there with them, I guess I was on my own a lot. So I am used to keeping my own company in that house, but- but it's been a long time since I had anyone- had anyone touch me, be affectionate to me," she said quietly and she looked down at the floor, "I didn't want to get a boyfriend just so I could be close to someone who I didn't really like. That seems to be what people do, anything rather than be on their own."

"I can understand why people do it," he admitted, "but if you don't like them to begin with, that is pretty bad."

"I think it's stopped. Outside," she said quietly, "nothing's moving anymore," she took off her mask and looked at the air in the room, the dust had settled once more. "Sometimes I feel like I spend all the time I'm not at school dusting the house," she smiled and looked up at him as he too removed his mask.

"That' because you do, no doubt," he smiled back, "it's what I'm in charge off here. It's the one thing Tom gladly lets me do."

"You cook too though, right?"

"Oh hell, where are my manners?" he closed his eyes, "are you hungry, Carrie? I never thought. It's dinnertime isn't it? Only I never made anything today because I knew Tom was going to the Dixons'."

"I'm ok," she smiled, "I ate at home, I always eat early, you know, 'cause of school."

"You sure?" he double checked.

"I'm sure," she smiled. There was a pause, "Lois Dixon's little brother told me Tom was going to theirs tonight," she admitted, "so I knew this would be an ok time to come. I should have written and asked, but, it seemed like a safe bet."

"You're always welcome, Carrie," he told her, "Tom and Lois- and Murph if she was here, they'd all be happy to see you."

"And you?"

"Of course, me," he shook his head and smiled, "of course me."

"Can I," she reached for his hand on the bed between them, "Can I stay the night?" she asked.

"Course you can," he held her hand, "Take your pick, Carrie, the spare room's full of Tom's old stuff or there's Murph's- full of her old stuff."

"I meant stay the night with you," she said quietly.

He moved his other hand to hers and patted it, held it gently, he frowned down at it, "Carrie, don't be silly," he said softly. "I know you're lonely, we both are, but look at you," he looked up at her, she looked back at him seriously, "you beautiful girl," he said sadly, "why'd you want to spend the night with an old wreck?"

"I told you, Donald," she said quietly, "I don't want romance, I don't want a boyfriend, just- just affection." She smiled a little, "I like you, I liked the boy who wrote that book and the man who wrote those letters, I- I thought we might both be grown up enough to know what friends sometimes need. And to be honest," she whispered, "I just don't think anyone else would understand."

"Ok sweetheart," he said softly, "but listen," he told her as she smiled gratefully at him, "I respect you, I won't romance you or pressure you or anything like that, hell, I'm too old for all that crap anyway, but I can't promise not to love you, ok?"

"Silly old thing," she whispered and she smiled and let go of his hands, moved closer, a little breathlessly she moved her face to his and she kissed him gently. Donald put his hands gently on her face and kissed back. She broke away and looked up at him as he held her face in his hands, he smiled at her, she smiled up at him and laughed a little, her face flushed a pleasing pink.

"You want another beer?" he asked her as he let go of her face, she shook her head. "Did you really come here for this?" he smiled in amusement and she nodded, "modern women," he shook his own head and she breathed and laughed.

"Come here," she told him and she moved back on his bed and sat up against the bedhead, she leant down and unbuckled her boots, bent and put them on the floor.

Donald stood up and walked to the door, he shut it and then sat down on the bed next to her, "I'll be honest with you, Carrie," he said gently as she put her arms around him, "things may not go exactly as you planned. I don't know how many men in their sixties, fuck, I mean, seventies," he swore, "sorry," he looked up at her, "well, exactly… How many old men you've slept with. But I can't make any promises."

"I just want to be here with you," she assured him. "Cuddles are nice," she smiled and she held him and they lay down on the bed together. Carrie held him down on top of her and sighed at his cheek at the feeling of being so close and up against another person, she felt him put his arms around her and she shivered and closed her eyes as he kissed her neck softly.

Donald felt how serious she was as her fingers dug into him, her leg wrapped itself around him and her arms held him down on top of her, he looked up from her neck down at her flushed face, he kissed her mouth gently and she kissed deeply back and her hands and her fingers pushed themselves through his hair and down over his shoulders.

Carrie moved her hands to her shirt, she unbuttoned it and Donald pulled his own clothes off, she smiled and giggled and he smiled too. She pushed her trousers and socks off, pulling off her soft shirt and her sports bra. Donald kicked off his shoes and pushed his trousers off, he lay naked on his bed, up against the almost naked schoolteacher.

"What's all this then?" he asked her, looking down at her underwear and he smiled as she smiled up at him and breathed heavily against his face, she put her arms around him once more and kissed him gently, softly, small kisses at his mouth. He touched her body gently, ran his hands down her soft skin, over her chest. He held a breast firmly as they kissed, his fingers played, tweaked at her sensitive skin, her breath shuddered at his face as they kissed. Donald pushed his hand further down her body, over her soft pale legs and the soft fair hairs, he gripped and stroked the skin as she held onto him and pressed herself against him.

Donald pushed his fingers against the thin grey cotton, he rubbed gently between her legs, firmly covered her with his large hand and massaged gently at the cotton and the tight muscles of her inside thighs, her body relaxed and tightened at his touch as he pressed and rubbed her through her underwear. Her breath shuddered and shivered as it left her body.

"Thank you," she whispered, he kissed her cheek and she stroked her hand over his stubbly face, over his strong arms and back. She pushed her hand between them and she touched him, felt him pressing against her leg, she stroked him firmly in her palm as he stroked her beneath his.

Donald pushed his hand over her small stomach firmly, pushed fingers beneath the elastic band of her knickers and touched the hot secret place, pushed his fingers through the curly hairs to the soft wet silky skin he sighed at her face and she shivered and smiled and kissed him gratefully. He rubbed and tickled her gently, she was very ready for him, he suddenly felt it too.

"Carrie, will you go on top," he asked her gently and she nodded and moved her hands away from him, she pushed her knickers off and they moved on the bed. She climbed on top of him and looked down at his face, smiled at him as she reached between them and pushed down on him, she sighed a little loudly at the relief she suddenly felt just from being with him, Donald put his strong hands on her and she leant down to kiss him, she kept her body and her face close as he moved her hips and she made love to him.

Donald was fit and strong for his age but it had been a long time since he had been so needed by a woman, he stroked and held her body firmly as she moved up and down on him and he felt harder than he could remember feeling as the beautiful and desperate creature squeezed and rubbed her soft body on top of him, but he knew he did not have the staying power he'd once had.

He moved her, pulled her up off him and she moved, sat up away from him as he came. Carrie moved off him, but moved her hand to him and gently squeezed and jerked as he gasped and closed his eyes, she lay down next to him.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he whispered, she shook her head.

"Don't be," she whispered back, "it was nice."

He pushed her hand away, "here," he whispered breathlessly, "let me," he moved down on the bed and moved his head to her legs and kissed her, pushed his large hands against her, pushed fingers into her and kissed and ran his tongue around the soft silky skin as his fingers played gently inside her.

Carrie sighed heavily and her legs rode up against his face as he kissed and teased her skin, she reached and touched his face with her long fingers, stroked them through his hair around his ear affectionately. Donald stroked his hand over her hip and her pale white stomach, held her to his face as he kissed her deeply and moved his fingers gently. Carrie watched his large hand and his strong forearm on her pale body and she stroked the dark hairs on the freckled skin, she had wanted to be held by those arms, to be crushed by the tall and impressive old man, to feel insignificant, to feel secure as he had always kept those close to him secure. But being held and being near him had not been enough and she was glad she had asked him to sleep with her.

There were things he was doing with his mouth that she had not experienced before, she'd known that he might not have been able to do anything and she had been prepared to be satisfied with hugs but he clearly wanted to please her and he was doing.

Carrie knew that his generation was the last of the sexually enlightened. When general publishing had ceased and the internet failed people had other things to think about and then people were too preoccupied to talk about it, to teach the right and wrong ways to do things, the men she'd been with had known how to have sex but they had not had much technique. The man who held and squeezed her with his face between her legs had already satisfied himself and yet he continued to pleasure her body.

Her body shuddered and moved against his lips, her thighs squeezed at his face and he felt her muscles contract around his fingers, she sighed and made small pained noises. He kissed and massaged her still, holding her body tightly as she gasped and came then he let go of her, released her slowly as she pushed his arm away. Donald sat up on his bed and looked down over her flushed face and neck, she shook and she breathed harshly but she smiled up at him.

"Do you feel better?" he asked her quietly and she nodded and reached for him, he lay down next to her and put his arms around her, held her pale cooling, shivering skin to his side, her face was hot as she pressed it to his shoulder then moved it up to his face. She kissed his lips lightly and touched his cheek with her cold fingertips, stroked her fingers over an eyebrow and down his nose, she smiled at him.

He smiled back, "Thanks for making it easy for me," he told her quietly, "it's been a long time."

"I- I didn't really feel I did that much," she admitted breathlessly and she laughed a little nervously as he laughed too.

He held her and rubbed her arm gently as she began to shiver as she smiled up at him. "This is a much more interesting night than I had planned," he told her calmly and a breath of a laugh left her nose as she still looked at him silently, "eight pm and I'm still awake, there's a turn up for the books."

"it's rare for me too," she whispered and smiled, "Friday night is my sleep the week away night, wake up at nine on Saturday and enjoy reading in my bed rather than getting up and going to school. I'm quite a boring person really," she hugged him tightly as her body got colder.

"Carrie you're cooling down like an ice cube," he rubbed her back as she shivered.

"Things were much hotter a minute ago," she whispered, "thank you. That's the first time anyone's done that to me properly."

His hands slowed and he looked down at her, he felt sad for her but he smiled anyway, she had enjoyed herself and she was happy, that's what was important.

"We should get our clothes back on," he told her, "it's not really bed time yet, come on, I haven't eaten even if you have, let's have another beer."

She nodded and he let go of her, Carrie sat up and found her clothes. She put them back on and felt warm once more in her flannel shirt. She looked at her reflection in the mirror on his dresser. Her thick blonde hair had been in a neat little braid that tickled the back of her neck, little of it remained, her hair was towseled and sticking out of the elastic band, she pulled it off and put it round her wrist, combing her hair with her fingers she straightened it as best she could and let it hang loose just past her shoulders.

"I always look disheveled," he told her as he tied his shoes, "any attempt to smarten this up would be futile." She smiled at him in the mirror and turned and looked at him. "You're really striking, Carrie," he told her, "your eyes are something else. Sorry. I promise that wasn't romance. Just fact." He stood up and looked down at her, "let's go talk about elephants or something."