Driftnet Read Free Page B

slipped his hands round to catch her breasts.
He held them gently for a moment before he rolled down her tights
and pants and freed her legs. Behind Rhona the water pounded into
the tub, hot and cold, like her thoughts. He sat on the chair and
pulled her onto his knee, stroking the back of her neck with one
hand while his other tested the water. When it was right, he turned
off the taps.
    ‘Get in. It’s
fine.’ She stepped into the water like an obedient child. ‘I’ll
give you a shout when tea’s ready.’ He left the door open when he
went out. She leaned over to shut it properly.
    ‘Don’t lock
it!’ he called. I’ll bring you in a glass of wine.’
    Rhona sat down
defeated, leaned back and closed her eyes.
    Sean came in
twice. First with the wine as promised and again with the bottle to
refill her glass. Rhona kept her eyes closed the second time,
although he knelt beside the bath so that she could feel his warm
breath on her face. Then the water parted with her knees, hitting
the sides of the bath in a wave of emotion, as he ran his hand
slowly up her thigh.
    This was what
it was like, she thought. To be primed. Made ready. Sean was good
at that. She pushed herself up and opened her eyes.
    ‘Okay now?’ He
was smiling at her, the dark blue eyes full of confidence.
    She stood up
and he handed her a towel and then the dressing gown. ‘Don’t bother
getting dressed,’ he said.
    Sean liked
women. He was comfortable in their company. But most of all he
liked to take them to bed. He played his saxophone with the same
sensual concentration he gave to sex. He would cradle it, stroke
it, press the right buttons and blow into it until it squealed with
pleasure. Recently Rhona had noticed a difference. She had begun to
suspect that Sean was not playing her any more, he was playing with
her, an entirely different thing.
    ‘Good?’ Sean
said.
    ‘Delicious.’
    ‘I put the
pasta in the fridge. It’ll do for tomorrow night.’
    Sean played a
regular gig in a club in the centre of town every Friday night. The
Ultimate Jazz Club was dark and intimate. On Fridays it was always
packed. The gig started at ten o’clock and didn’t finish till two.
Sean often stayed there jamming until sunrise. Rhona had loved to
watch him play, his knowing hands squeezing emotion out of the
golden instrument. She would sit there, just like the night they
met. He’d been booked to play at a police function at the club. At
the interval he’d come over to her table and asked if he could talk
to her. He was so straightforward, she couldn’t refuse. Besides,
she’d been having erotic thoughts about him all evening. She stayed
on till late, as the band wound down, playing soft soul music while
the crowd drifted off. After he’d packed up his gear, they’d left
together and they’d been together ever since.
    I can’t go back
to the club, she thought. Not now I know.
    They had
reached the coffee stage. Sean was up, whistling as he rattled cups
and spooned the freshly ground coffee into the machine.
    ‘I went to the
Art Gallery on Friday,’ Rhona heard herself say in a detached
voice.
    Sean didn’t
answer at first and she wondered whether he had been listening.
Often when he whistled he was miles away, planning a tune in his
head. Not this time. This time he heard her.
    He brought the
cafetière over to the table and poured the coffee. He was whistling
again, bringing the notes to a proper end before he spoke.
    ‘Ordinary
people go to art galleries here. I like that. It reminds me of
Dublin.’
    His voice was
unperturbed and soothing. He was not going to be drawn into a
sparring match. They lapsed into silence. Rhona fingered her
cup.
    ‘You were in
the Gallery on Friday,’ she said.
    ‘I was.’
    (Was that a
question or an answer?)
    ‘You were with
a woman,’ she said.
    ‘I was.’
    He took a sip
of coffee then placed his cup gently back on the saucer. He did
everything like that, his big hands moving in firm gentle