Chapter 20
Twenty
Major figurative painter. Check images carefully for appropriate use in classroom! How does Schiele convey intense, raw sexuality? Are the paintings ugly or beautiful?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
Aware Vinny was eyeing all food prep avariciously, they’d eaten, sitting side by side, at the kitchen work surface, keeping it all at a height even a bouncy spaniel couldn’t reach.
The combination of Brie and cured meats, along with the focaccia bread was simple but satisfying.
Callie had added a salad and Johnny had produced several bottles of good Merlot and two slices of cherry tart and some clotted cream.
As Callie ate, she remembered him making a pot of tea whilst she’d perched on the same stool, poised for flight, on that first Saturday.
It seemed a lifetime ago. Johnny had been a stranger then and, while she still didn’t know a great deal about him, she certainly no longer regarded him as a potential axe murderer.
In fact, feeling the warmth from his body as he sat next to her, all she could think about was how much he attracted her.
Her throat closed with lust and a sliver of olive went down the wrong way.
Coughing, she reached for her glass. It seemed criminal to waste the wine but she glugged some down.
‘You okay?’ Johnny asked, concerned. ‘Need a thump on the back?’
Their eyes met and Callie felt a great wave of heat rise. She shook her head, dumbly. Coughing again, she found her voice. ‘I’m fine,’ she said feeling anything but. Her face must be embarrassingly crimson. ‘Think I’ve had enough to eat though.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘Let’s take the second bottle and sit on the sofa.
Be more comfortable there.’ He took the Merlot and their glasses and put them on the low coffee table in front of the sand-coloured sofa.
Vinny followed him, glued to the back of his legs but dropped onto the rug in front of the French doors as soon as he realised there was no food.
The spaniel collapsed with a mournful sigh, nose resting on his front paws, eyes reproachful.
Callie sank down. Undecided if she was tired, relaxed, or strung out with sexual desire.
‘You all right?’ Johnny repeated.
‘Yes really. Just something went down the wrong way. Shouldn’t inhale my food with such indecent haste.’
‘It was all delicious. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, although all I did was open a few packets. We still haven’t eaten that delicious-looking cherry pie you brought.’
‘I couldn’t eat another thing. Maybe we can eat it later?
It was all exactly right for an evening as warm as tonight though.
I love lots of different things to pick away at.
Some of my favourite meals have been tapas or mezze.
’ He went on to describe a meal eaten on a roof top restaurant in the old town of Marrakech.
Callie had been about to explain that putting together cold cuts and cheese, along with some good bread, had taken little thought and had been a welcome change from throwing something dull but nourishing onto the table at the end of a long workday.
But she kept quiet. Tonight she didn’t want to be seen as the workaholic single mother who dished up quick pasta bakes.
She wanted to be the woman Johnny desired.
As he opened the second bottle of Merlot she listened, rapt, to his story of kofta rich with paprika and cumin, and sardines stuffed with chermoula, all eaten under the stars on a hot Moroccan night.
Dreamily picturing them lying on rugs and gazing up at a dark sky studded with stars, she promised herself she’d check Lakeland to see if they sold tagines.
Then she shook her head on a suppressed laugh.
She had a hot man next to her and she was thinking about cooking pots!
Johnny batted away an insect and rose to light the candles. They chased shadows around the walls and made it all impossibly romantic. Vinny grumbled so he took the dog into the garden. By the time they’d returned, Callie had downed another glass of red and made her decision.
Johnny flung himself down next to her and rested an arm along the back of the sofa. ‘Hopefully the candles will keep the worst of the midges off. It’s far too lovely an evening to close the doors. And sorry.’ He sipped his wine, a rueful expression playing about his well-defined features.
‘What for?’ Callie asked, surprised.
‘For boring you about Morocco.’
‘Nothing you could say would bore me,’ she said simply and honestly. ‘You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met in a long time.’
‘I am?’ He blew out a breath. ‘You flatter me but I really don’t think I’m particularly interesting.’
She leaned forward. ‘You’ve had the most fascinating life. Lived all over the world, seen so much of it. Seen and done things most of the rest of us can only dream about. It’s all so exotic, so glamorous.’
Johnny looked down, suddenly unsure of himself.
Placing his glass on the coffee table with careful precision, he said, ‘It really isn’t, you know.
Oh, I know it seems that way but it’s mostly living out of a suitcase, washing your boxers in a sink and then only when there’s a water supply, sitting around bored waiting for a story to break, then trying to cover it only to find your rival got there first.’
Moodily, he adjusted his wine glass so that it sat dead centre on a coaster depicting Monet’s garden. A muscle worked in his cheek. ‘And then there are the things you see which drive you to drink or insanity, or out of the job altogether. Trust me, it may look glamorous but it’s anything but.’
Callie’s compassion for him overwhelmed her. ‘I’m sorry for that. It must have been hard. I didn’t mean to be glib or dismiss what you’ve gone through.’
Taking the wine glass off her, he took her hands in his.
‘You haven’t. I don’t think you’ve got a glib bone in your body.
’ He paused, his mouth working. ‘One of the things I talked about with my parents this morning is seeking out some counselling, therapy or something. So I can work through the stuff that’s followed me home. ’
‘Sounds an excellent idea. Remember I said I don’t believe in bottling things up? Talking with someone properly qualified may make a huge difference. Some kind of psychotherapy, perhaps. CBT, maybe.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ He stared down at their joined hands.
‘I don’t think my parents understood how much it’s all affected me.
At Inigo’s christening party one of the waiters dropped a tray.
It went off like a rocket. I thought it was a rocket.
Jumped a foot. Dad looked at me as if I was mad.
I’ve also developed claustrophobia.’ He flicked her a glance.
‘Can’t bear small spaces. I can’t be in a room without knowing where the escape route is.
Have a window or door open if I can. Queues get to me too and sometimes I can’t deal with crowds. Bit weird.’
‘Not weird at all,’ Callie replied robustly. ‘It all sounds a completely understandable response to the things I imagine you’ve been through. And it can be worked on. You were okay at Twelfth Night, though?’
He shrugged. ‘I can control it some of the time. It’s unpredictable. Being out in the open air helped then. Exhausts me though.’
‘It must do. But I think it’s a really positive thing, to have decided to seek help.’
‘Hope so. This morning I finally had a long talk with my parents, explained it all, or tried to.’
‘How did they react?’
‘Surprisingly well. Jess was there, supporting me. Mum even googled some therapists.’ A smile twitched. ‘Likes to do something, does Mum. Be practical. I thought they might see it as weakness but I think, if anything, it’s brought us closer.’
Johnny was still holding her hands. His vulnerability made him even more attractive. It’s not up to you to save him, she reminded herself but she couldn’t help it; she was falling for him, for the whole man and if that included his issues then so be it.
She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed them tenderly.
‘I’m so pleased you’ve talked things through with your parents.
Admitting your difficulties must have been hard but I’m glad it’s brought you closer to them.
And I know your life has brought you all this pain, but it’s taken you to places I can only dream of.
Think of the things you’ve achieved. You make me feel so ordinary in comparison. I mean, what have I done with my life?’
‘Don’t say that, Calliope,’ he replied urgently, looking deep into her eyes.
‘Don’t ever say that. You’ve done the most wonderful things.
Your body has grown a child. You’ve raised that child on your own, become the best role model that little girl could have, built your career, kept a home going. You’re a hero.’
‘I’m no hero,’ she answered stoutly.
‘Oh yes you are. Calliope, muse of all poetry.’ Reaching in he kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Calliope.’ Her name was uttered on a long breath. ‘Tell me if I’ve got the wrong impression here but there’s something happening between us, isn’t there?’
‘Not yet,’ she breathed, too affected by the feel of his firm mouth on hers, to answer coherently.
It had been so long since anyone had kissed her like this.
Every nerve and sense was aflame. She forgot she was a woman of a certain age whose only fitness regime was walking to work, she forgot the marks childbearing had left as a legacy on her body, the threads of silver emerging in her hair.
All she could focus on was how good this felt and her decision of earlier; if Johnny made a move she’d go with it.
‘Not yet?’ He looked taken aback. ‘I’m so sorry, I have misinterpreted this.’ Releasing their hands he held his up in apology. ‘I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I’ve overstepped the mark. Let’s call this a night and forget this ever happened.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I’m not.’ She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him nearer. Was she too out of practice for this? ‘I only meant nothing has happened yet.’
‘But?’ His mouth hovered close again.
‘But I’d like it to.’ Pulling him in, she whispered, ‘I’d very much like it to,’ and kissed him hard.
He thrust a hand through her hair and pushed her back against the sofa. At the feel of his hard body against hers, at the weight of it over her, she let out a moan of arousal and stopped thinking altogether.
It was delicious. Kissing Johnny was delicious.
His mouth tasted of red wine and desire.
His body was taut and muscled and exciting.
And his mouth, when it found her breasts was hot and demanding.
An urgent beat set up inside. If she didn’t have him now, she’d explode.
She guided his hand to between her legs, bucking against him.
‘Calliope,’ he murmured, the sound coming in short breaths. ‘God, you’re driving me wild.’ He fastened his mouth onto her neck, nipping and sucking. ‘Are you sure?’
In answer, she reached down and unfastened his belt. It fell away, an erotic slither of leather. She began unbuttoning his fly, the feel of him thrilled her beyond belief. She felt reinvented, a world away from her life as teacher and mother.
A shudder rippled through him. ‘I feel about fifteen again,’ he panted. ‘Heavy petting.’ It made her giggle and he joined in. Resting his forehead against hers, he said, ‘Shall we go upstairs? I mean, I’m very fond of a sofa but it might be more comfortable.’
Clasping his face between her hands she gazed into his vivid grey eyes, made hot with desire. ‘Yes.’ Then she pulled him in for another kiss and all thought of her comfortable king-size bed was forgotten.
Someone thumped on the front door. Vinny shot into the hall, his paws scrabbling and sliding on the tiles, and threw himself against the door, barking furiously.
‘What the f–?’ Johnny came up for air.
‘Leave it.’ She pulled him back. ‘Kiss me.’
The knocking came again, a fist against the door hammering impatiently. Vinny let loose another volley of barks.
Johnny stopped. ‘They’re not going to go away. And Vinny isn’t going to shut up. It might be Grace I suppose,’ he sighed. Putting a hand through his hair and brushing it off his face, he flung himself off her.
Callie, looking at his state of disarray, felt her mouth twitch. ‘I’ll go.’
He held on to her hand as she rose. ‘Get rid of them quickly,’ he implored.
‘I’ll do my best.’ She bent over him and kissed him again, lost in the moment, only interrupted by yet another hammering on the door.
Callie took a minute to adjust her T-shirt and smooth her hair down as best she could but there was no hiding her hot cheeks and stubble-grazed lips.
Hurrying to the door, she restrained Vinny by his collar and pinned on a welcoming smile.
If Grace had come to collect her dog earlier than expected, she and Johnny could get back to what they’d started.
They had the whole night ahead. The thought made her dizzy with lust.
Opening the door, she gazed in blank shock at the person who stood there.
‘Finally! I thought you’d never let me in.’ Her daughter looked down at the spaniel. ‘And, Mum, why is there a dog here?’