Capital Sins (17 page)

'I won't
eat you,' Alan whispered as he helped Connie up off the chair by her arm.

'You don't
scare me.'

His
eyebrows
raised
mockingly and his black eyes danced
with hidden amusement. She felt dizzy as she stood up, and automatically leant
against Alan for a second. She felt his arms steady her while she regained her
sense of balance.

'Do you
want me to carry you? I could you know,' he said.

'I'm sure
you're as strong as you look, but I can walk,' she replied stiffly, and led the
way out without looking back at him. They paired off.
Tilly
and Gary walked in front, their arms around each other's waists, her head
resting on his shoulder. Connie felt Alan slide his arm around her own waist.

'I can
support myself, thank you,' she snapped.

He raised
his hands in mock surrender.

Gary looked
back at them over his shoulder. 'I should've bought some Bourbon, Al.'

'Don't
fret, I've got a bottle of booze in my room,'
Tilly
put in. 'I '
ope
you won't mind
drinkin
'
outa
mugs, boys
... '

'I don't
care how it enters me, as long as it goes down,' Alan answered and replaced his
arm around Connie. She Jet it
stay
, defeated.

The talk
died down as they reached the house and then, with her finger over her lips,
and with exaggerated hushing sounds,
Tilly
told them
to be quiet. But, trying to find her front door key, she emptied the contents
of her bag on to the pavement with a clatter. She giggled a little hysterically
and
hiccuped
.

'Give
over,' Connie hissed, looking alarmed as she stared up at the building for
signs of lights being switched on. 'You'll wake the whole neighbourhood.'

They all
helped to retrieve
Tilly's
scattered belongings, and
Connie fished in her own bag for her key.

'Move
over,' she commanded, bending down to peer with comical ferociousness at the
keyhole, 'let mat it.'

The front
door creaked as they pushed it open and crept inside like stealthy burglars.
Connie warily eyed the door on her right, but it remained shut, and there was
.no sound or movement from within. Feeling their way in the pitch blackness,
they groped their way noiselessly to the staircase and, gripping the hand-rail,
moved upstairs, trying to contain their laughter. Connie could feel Alan's hot
breath on her neck as he came up directly behind her, and somehow his very
closeness made her feel weak. Her legs trembled, her stomach tightened. He
seemed to sense it and softly, without any irony in his tone, asked her if she
was feeling OK. A little shakily she replied she was:

They made
it into
Tilly's
room without disturbing the household
and there they all collapsed weakly on to the sagging bed. Wriggling out from
under Gary's legs,
Tilly
crept over to a battered
coffee table and switched on a lamp that threw an orange glow into the room.

'Right,'
she announced gleefully, ''hang on and I'll find the booze.'

While she
filled cups from a nearly full bottle, Gary loped over to the record player.

'Mrs
Withers will hear,' Connie exclaimed,
then
stopped as
Alan put his hand over her mouth.

'No she won't,'
he said, but turned to his friend. 'Keep it down, Gary,' he said
authoritatively. 'We don't want to be the cause of having the little ladies
thrown out on to the streets.' He turned back to smile at Connie, and his
expression asked whether that was all right with her.

She smiled
back. Then, aware how close he was to her, sprawled on the bed, she edged away
from him.

He suddenly
bared his teeth and gave a low growl, making her jump. Alan fell back on the
bed and erupted into a fit of laughter. Connie glared at him in annoyance, and
then she made a face.

'Idiot,'
she told him.

'Should've
seen your face,' he gasped, and then they were quiet as
Tilly
told them in ungentle terms to shut their mouths.
Tilly
handed around the drinks and, for a while, as the music played softly in the
background, they chatted and exchanged jokes and stories, the men having many
lurid ones to tell. Then Alan stood up, rested his mug on a chair, and asked
Tilly
to dance. As they swayed to the music, Alan's hands
firmly resting on the girl's hips, Connie watched them, experiencing a feeling
she could only describe to herself as a rebuff. She looked at him closely as
the couple swung around, wondering if he would acknowledge her, but to her
disappointment, he was gazing deeply into
Tilly's
eyes as she spoke to him. When Gary slouched over to ask her to dance, Connie
stood up with a flouncing movement and clung to his neck. When the music ended,
Gary's forehead was shiny with perspiration as he stared down at her tilted
face and partly opened lips.

'You sure
do dance swell... Connie.' He recalled in time that the name was not
Tilly
. Connie smiled up at him, sweetly forgiving.

'You too,'
she murmured huskily.

Tilly
flipped the disc and, as the music began again, Gary made as if to ask Connie
to dance a second time, but
Tilly
wiggled her hips
over to him.

'
Ain't
you
gonna
dance with me? I
thought you
was
my guy,' she pouted.

They
danced, and Connie stared as the other girl started to do strange things with
her hips. Connie reached under the bed for her mug, found it, and tilted it to
her lips too quickly. The whisky flowed out and trickled down
her'chin
. She coughed and wiped her throat.

'You trying
to drown yourself, honey?'

She twisted
to see Alan smiling down at her. She shrugged and finished drinking until the
mug was empty.

'Would you
like to dance now?' he asked, seemingly unabashed by her having deliberately
ignored him.

She
shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

'If you
want,' she said airily, but felt a surge of excitement at the thought of his
holding her. She knew that her feeling for him was dangerous.

He didn't
hold her tightly to him, but gently, as if she were delicate porcelain, too
fragile to be manhandled. That got her; Connie wanted him to be rough, wanted
him to prove just how strong and masculine he was. She pressed herself against
him, grinding her hips against the tops of
his
thighs deliberately.

'What's the
hurry?' he said blandly.

She screwed
up her face, nonplussed, and wanted to hit him.

The other
two had stopped dancing and were sitting on the bed. When Connie glanced at
them a minute later, they were lying there, kissing. She felt embarrassed and,
for a while, she and Alan didn't talk. She listened to the music, humming to
herself, while she could feel the heat from his body warming her, smell a faint
musky sweat under his jacket. Connie closed her eyes dreamily, allowing herself
to relax in his arms as he rested his cheek against her head.

When Connie
next opened her eyes, she saw Gary lying almost on top of
Tilly
,
his hand inside her blouse. Startled, Connie stood still and Alan looked at
her, puzzled. Then he, too, turned his head.

'If they
keep that pace up,' he whispered, 'I don't think they'll
be
wanting
us around in a few minutes.'

'It's
crude.'

He cupped
her chin in his hands and her violet eyes turned on him.

'Let's get
out of here, Connie, what do you say? Where's your room, honey?'

'Opposite.
but
... '

'Come on,'
he ordered, taking her by the hand, but she hung back.

'We mustn't
... '

'Your
friend doesn't want you around, can't you see that!' Without further comment,
Alan tugged the unresponsive girl to the door.

'All the
same, maybe you'd better go,' she said feebly, not looking at him.

'And kill
the party? Gary would come with me, but he wouldn't want to,' Alan said curtly,
his eyes angry. 'What's the matter with you anyway?'

'Nothing ... nothing.'

'Then shut
up!'

She didn't
dare argue but trailed after him. They crossed the hallway, and Connie unlocked
her door. He went through first and she pressed back against the door once
inside, her heart beating uncomfortably, and stared at him with round and
worried eyes.

He roamed
around, looking at things.

'Neat,' he
murmured.
'Very tidy.
You'd hardly believe that anyone
actually lived here.' He turned to her. 'Are you always so perfect?'

'It's my
upbringing,' she replied, on the defensive, and went to sit on the bed. She
watched him pause by her dressing table.

'Everything in its place, and a place for everything, eh?
Compared to your buddy back there,
you're a proper little lady, aren't you?'

She didn't
say anything. He sat beside her. Alan picked up one of her hands and idly
smoothed the skin with his thumb. 'You're really still a kid, aren't you?' he
remarked, meaning it kindly.

'Why aren't
you at home with your folks where you belong?'

Roughly she
pulled her hand back. 'I don't have any. I've been in care all my life.'

He heard
the sourness and placed the palm of his hand against her cheek, almost
tenderly. He didn't reply for a minute,
then
traced
the contours of her face with his finger.

'Whoever
she was, I'd say your mother was a classy female, a real lady, perhaps.'

'What makes
you say that?' Connie asked, curious in spite of herself. 'How can you tell?'

'Bone
structure,' he said seriously. 'You've got a fine, aristocratic bone structure.
Comes with breeding.'

She
couldn't help smiling. He suddenly bent and kissed her, almost chastely.

'
Been wanting
to do that all evening,' Alan said.

'Did I say
you should stop?' she said levelly.

He
hesitated to see if she meant it, then pulled her to him. This time he held her
as if he would crush her bones.
crush
the very life
from her. She met his kiss willingly with her lips parted and ready for his
probing tongue which wormed past her teeth. They sucked at each other's mouths
feverishly, slowly falling backwards on the bed. She couldn't think straight.
She could only feel what was happening to her. Alan's lips left hers and worked
downwards to her neck, his left hand pressing her shoulders flat while his
right snaked up her dress to rest on her thighs. Connie moaned and, covering
his hand with her own over her dress, pressed it even harder against her, shivering
a little as he stroked the satiny skin.

'A good
bone structure isn't all you've got,' he murmured, nuzzling against her. She
felt him pulling at her pants, so arched her body until they were off. She
raised her head to look at him and saw his eyes feasting on her bare lower
half. She didn't feel shame, she wasn't conscious of thinking. Connie twitched
her hips and then he was stroking the soft downy triangle between her legs. She
shuddered, her head falling back on to the bed. Then she heard him speak and
weakly raised her head.

'
Wh
... what?'

' ... I
said, the American half of me is the randy half which makes me want to bury
myself in you as fast as I can, and the Japanese half tells me to take my time
so that I can appreciate all this loveliness before I do.' He laughed softly,
then
stopped as he heard her say:

'I thought
you were part Jap.'

'Did you.'
His voice had gone cold, but she hadn't noticed.

'Is it your
mother, or your father who's the Jap?'

She didn't
realise how it sounded to him.

'It's not
important
... '

'They have
weird-sounding surnames, don't they? What's yours, Alan?'

'Ho,' he
said shortly.

She echoed
it incredulously. 'Ho?
As in, ho, ho?'
Suddenly, in
her drunken state, it struck her as extremely funny and she burst out laughing.

'I don't
think it's so amusing,' Alan said crisply, but her laughter only grew more
uncontrollable.

'Ho, Ho!'
she gasped. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was convulsed until it hurt
and her sides ached.

'Shut your
damned mouth!' Alan said furiously. He pulled away from her and sat up.

Still
laughing, but now trying to check it, Connie reached for him. 'Don't be so
sensitive,' she said.