Tim Connor Hits Trouble (15 page)

‘What about loyalty? Solidarity between colleagues? We give more and more time and energy to our jobs and less and less to the people we work with. Henry has given half a lifetime to his job. We ought to try to help him, not conspire to finish him off.’

Not wanting to sound too pious he toughened his tone. ‘I don’t intend to see Henry shafted without at least letting him know what’s going on. We’ve become so obsessed with bloody targets and the rest of the paraphernalia that we’ve become desensitised to the consequences of our own behaviour. We think and talk within tramlines, we’re getting too frightened to speak our minds.’

Rachel’s voice was tight as she struggled to contain her annoyance.

‘Tim, you’re beginning to sound like Henry himself, full of impractical nonsense. Listen, Henry’s situation has nothing to do with the high ideals you’re referring to. The fact is he is unprofessional and dysfunctional. I regret raising this matter with you. I’d appreciate it if you would treat this conversation as confidential. Let those who know Henry well deal with it. It can’t possibly do Henry or, for that matter, you any good if you interfere.’

Tim was about to challenge this remark when Erica who had been sitting quietly, a tray of coffee across her knees, cut in.

‘Hey you two, there’s no need to fall out over this. Let me pour some coffee. I’d have offered it you before but I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘Thank you but I think I won’t. I have things to do as I’m sure you two do as well,’ said Rachel, giving Erica a reproachful look.

Erica looked crestfallen, almost contrite. ‘I hope you’re not upset, Rachel? After all it was you that wanted to meet with Tim.’ This was a different Erica than Tim was used to: almost a mirror opposite.

Rachel ignored the question. ‘As I said, I have things to do. I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll call you tomorrow, early if you don’t mind?’

‘Well, if you’re sure you need to go.’

Rachel had already picked up her bag and coat. Tim contemplated remaining in his seat as a protest, but thought that she might miss the point. The expectation that a man would spring to his feet when a woman leaves the room is one of the many social rituals feminism has changed. In the end it was the residual politeness of his northern upbringing that prompted him to stand up. ‘You can be too complicated,’ he thought, as, rising to his feet, he tripped over Erica’s Afghan rug, almost bowling into Rachel’s arms. Rachel accelerated out of the apartment.

Outside the door Rachel turned to face Tim and Erica. Tim braced himself for more verbals. She settled for a thunderous frown before marching off down the corridor.

Back inside Tim and Erica looked at each other. Simultaneously they took deep breaths and burst into laughter.

‘Jesus. Why was that so funny?’ Tim grinned.

‘It wasn’t really but it’s a hell of a relief to get it over with.’

‘Yeah, but why did you?’

Erica moved in closer pressing a finger to Tim’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. Relaxed now, she nuzzled up against his chest. The mood had slipped into intimacy.

‘I can never decide what you smell of. Almost neutral but there’s a suggestion of porridge.’

‘Porridge?’ Tim was not flattered.

‘Or rice-pudding maybe.’

He was even less flattered.

‘I doubt it. I did eat a lot of both as a kid but I don’t think the aroma could still be hanging on.’

‘I suppose not. It’s a nice smell anyway. Very you. Some men smell sweaty or worse.’

‘I can imagine. Spare me the details. What about women?’

‘They’re always fragrant. Like Rachel.’

‘Quite.’

He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her speculatively on the forehead. Feelings were stirring that he had not yet allowed himself to recognise. And if he did want more than lust and desire from their relationship he was not sure Erica did. He felt an unfamiliar pang of insecurity. It might help if he knew more about her relationship with Rachel, an issue they had previously steered clear of. Now he went straight to the point.

‘So what is it between you and Rachel?

Her reply was equally candid.

‘She’s my partner, well, a partner. My other partner that is, in case you think I’ve got a stable-full. I’d assumed you’d guessed. Didn’t you?’

‘More or less, but I wasn’t completely sure.’ He was determined to keep his cool. Erica sounded less defensive than he’d anticipated. He decided to press on.

‘So you’re bi-sexual?’

‘Yes, sort of, if you want to put a label on it. But my relationship with Rachel isn’t mainly about sex.’

‘So my relationship with you is mainly about sex then?’

‘Tim,’ she reached for his hand reassuringly, ‘you mustn’t get paranoid. I don’t know what my relationship with you is about. I know we started with a strong sexual urge and that doesn’t seem to have worn off. Anyway let’s focus on Rachel first, seeing you ask.’

‘Go ahead. Are you in love with her?’

‘Tim, that’s a bit simplistic.’

‘Sorry, I wouldn’t know.’

‘I’m not in love with her romantically, if that’s what you mean. She’s my best friend. And neither of us sees any point in putting arbitrary limits on our friendship although it’s not particularly sexual from my point of view. I mean my
motive isn’t sexual. Anyway I don’t intend to talk about that side of our relationship. It would be disloyal’

‘And I wouldn’t ask you. But, so what do you get out of it? Are you attracted to each other?’

‘Tim, you’re still going on about the same thing. Of course we’re attracted to each other but as people, not just as bodies… You’re the body expert,’ she added with a flash of annoyance.

Tim decided to ignore the jibe, suppressing the obvious retort that Erica was hardly lacking in that department herself. He wanted to hear more about Erica and Rachel.

‘She must be twenty years older than you or more.’

‘Yes. She was one of my lecturers, as you probably know. She was very kind to me when I needed someone to be. And she’s a bright, interesting person.’

‘So she was a cradle-snatcher. You still seem slightly in awe of her.’

The remark riled Erica. ‘Tim for a psychologist you seem naively willing to stereotype us. Do you think I haven’t thought about that side of my relationship with her? Well I have. I respect Rachel, but it’s a pretty equal partnership,’ she paused for a second before adding, ‘anyway, more than at first.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I’m just trying to understand where I fit in. It seems like you’ve manoeuvred me into a very particular role.’

‘How do you mean ‘manoeuvred’ you? Aren’t you enjoying yourself? I’m beginning to think you’re jealous of Rachel.’

Tim was half-inclined to back off. He wanted to get closer to Erica and he seemed to be achieving the opposite. But he needed to unload his feelings and at least he was getting some response.

‘I promise you I’m not jealous. There’s no point. Maybe I just want our relationship to open up a bit, perhaps see more of you, change the scenery a bit. After all I’m only here today because I invited myself.’

At the risk of annoying Erica he attempted some instant psychoanalysis.

‘Are you sure you aren’t applying Rachel-type control to our relationship? I know you see yourself as her equal now, but she’s been your mentor for a long time and not just academically. Maybe you’re imitating her behaviour without being aware of it. But you and I… I mean we could loosen up a bit?’

Erica’s irritation flared again; more intense because she saw some truth in Tim’s remark. ‘I thought you men are only interested in one thing? Especially you. You have a bit of a reputation you know. It preceded you to Wash.’

Tim flinched. Now he was annoyed.

‘Who dug that out? Rachel, I suppose.’

‘No. Leave Rachel out of it.’

Caught up in their conversation they had not even sat down again following Rachel’s departure. They stood starring at each other, stiff with tension, on the point of open anger. Simultaneously self-awareness dawned on them.

‘Christ, look at us. All set for battle.’ It was Erica who broke the spell. ‘Tim, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s forget about all this for now. It’s enough for one session. I’m going to get a bottle of wine from the fridge. Then I’m going to spoil you while we drink. Would you like that?’

He quickly agreed. He was in need of affection and it looked like he was about to get some. The change of mood was instant and total. ‘Being spoilt’ took the form of a leisurely massage to the gentle sounds of sitar-led music unfamiliar to Tim. He lay face down, closed his eyes and surrendered to relaxation. After several minutes Erica asked him to turn over. He watched her as she continued to massage him, his member on the rise.

Making love was not exactly the calm after the storm but they connected more tenderly than in their usual lust-fuelled explosions. Once inside her, Tim held back and kept holding back wanting to extend their pleasure and intimacy
as long as possible. Slowly the warmth and pleasure in Erica’s eyes intensified into fierce, shining desire.

Still, he held back before the rhythm of love took over, rapid and urgent. There bodies locked, immobile, rigid for a moment.

‘Now,’ cried Erica.

‘Aaa…’

‘Got you!’

‘Aaa…’

Her body closed over his quivering cock as they released together. Their eyes open to each other in blue on brown-eyed wonder.

Desire slaked, they drifted together half-conscious.

Tim slowly eased away rolling onto the soft carpet, reaching for Erica’s hand wanting to maintain intimacy. After a few minutes he moved closer again laying his head on her breasts.

‘Phew!’

‘Phew!’

‘Thank you, that was…’

‘It was…’

‘Beautiful.’

‘It was.’

Erica began to stroke Tim’s forehead.

‘Tim,’ she was hesitant as she continued to caress him.

‘Tim, I don’t want to go back to what we were talking about before but I just want to say something so we don’t fall out about it later.’

‘Ok. Go ahead.’ Tim was expecting Erica to say something personal, perhaps about her feelings for him or her relationship with Rachel.

‘Tim, this Henry thing… I’m more in agreement with Rachel than with you. She exaggerates, but basically she’s right. He’s not doing the job.’

Tim was also reluctant to start again on Henry. But somehow he had become the man’s defender.

‘Erica, I don’t know. Don’t you think this is partly personal?
Rachel and Swankie don’t like Henry. And it’s Henry that’s lost out. They’re banging him up really. I think he’s been through enough. I’ll talk to him, see what he has to say. Maybe there’s some solution short of him being kicked out?’

‘You can try but Henry’s pretty stubborn. It’s up to you. I just don’t want us to fall out about it.’

She gave his hair a gentle pull. Shifting his head from her breasts he wriggled up to look into her eyes. For once they were face to face, albeit at floor level.

‘I’ve got something else to tell you,’ Erica smiled slightly coy.

‘What’s that then?’

‘That was maybe the best sex I’ve ever had.’

‘That’s nice, but only maybe?’

‘Not only but also. It was so good I can’t wait for more.’

‘You don’t have to.’

Erica spread her long, Olympic class legs. Tim leaned back to get the full view. Abruptly she closed them again.

Tim groaned.

‘Surely a cat can look at a queen?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not you,’ she gave his perpendicular a friendly pat as she got to her feet. ‘Can you hold that for a couple of minutes? I just want to pop into the bedroom for a second.’

Tim got to his feet pacing the room, aroused and impatient for her to return. It was worth the wait. Erica re-entered in full erotic regalia, her breasts bursting proudly through a cup-less bra and her backside and crotch bare through cut-out leather leotards. In six-inch stiletto heels she was almost as tall as Tim. If she hadn’t been so drop-dead sexy Tim might have laughed. But desire overwhelmed any comedic impulse. The sheer beauty of her glorious body ensured that fantasy routed bathos. And that arse. You could travel continents and still not find its equal. Epochs must have passed without the appearance of quite so marvellous a bum.

Silently she walked to a low antique desk. Stretching
out her arms she touched its edge and bent over, her buttocks jutting high in the air. She spread her legs carefully, wobbling slightly on the stilettos, the perfectly etched muscles of her legs and rump clenching as she struggled to hold her balance.

The mind plays its own tricks. The phrase ‘Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth’ popped into his head. But perversely the ludicrous image intensified his lust -
ride a horse cock
. He gazed greedily on the smooth dipping contours of her bottom.

‘I’ll take you from the rear,’ said Tim redundantly.

‘From, not up, please,’ she said quickly.

‘Not an issue.’

He moved urgently towards her but curbing his lust began to stroke her upturned backside, feather light, barely touching. Erica felt as though static was crackling across its exposed surface. Her buttocks began to quiver, first one, then the other and then losing control, both together. Gripping the gyrating muscles, he eased his cock onto her warm, wet hole.

‘Oh… Ah. Fuck me! Don’t wait! Fuck me now!’

This was an invitation to which he was well poised to respond but still he played on the edge, teasing her. Erica was agonising for release. Finally she took the play away, dropping almost onto the full length of his cock. She shouted wildly, somewhere between ecstasy and execution. They bucked like animals, her rampant nates juddering like a pair of pistons, driving Tim to his roaring, cursing climax.

On the fuck/love spectrum this was off the scale at the fuck end.

Afterwards, sated and exhausted, they slept in each others arms. It felt to Tim as though some barrier had been shifted between them, not removed but jolted. It was a feeling beyond the intensity of carnal pleasure and Tim yearned not to lose it.

‘I wish we could be as loving and affectionate as we are
now even without making love, just sometimes. Do you think that’s possible?’