4 comments/ 11858 views/ 7 favorites Working, Waiting, Wanting By: Rex Siter Yorke Millen sat back, and viewed the letter on the desk in front of him. How, in the present circumstances, was he going to handle the next few months as temporary head teacher? Being deputy head was fair enough, the buck didn't stop with you. But now, he was standing in for Gordon Rafter, the actual head, who had suffered a heart attack just over a month earlier, and school problems were multiplying. He wasn't too concerned about the general running of Barnside Middle School. All of the staff were well motivated, if a little apprehensive, at this time, but they were most supportive. As he picked up the letter that confirmed the big problem he had inherited, there was a gentle knock at the door, and school secretary, Tina Lorder, poked her steely grey coiffure around it. "In the mood for a member of the Press? The Enquirer," she asked. Yorke frowned. The Enquirer was the local area newspaper, which, like any newspaper, was eager to latch on to any hint of bother. "What could they want?" he mused out loud."Did he give any clues?" "It's a lady," Tina said, and her lips tightened. "Karen Marking." That had him sitting up straight, his wife Carol's untimely death, three years earlier, instantly on his mind. "Oh, you said the Enquirer." Tina shrugged, her eyes admitting her own surprise, "Apparently, that's who she's with now." Discomforted, Yorke wondered what she could want. In no way did he fancy stirring up cruel memories. Karen Marking was the presenter of a television show doing a piece on drink driving, shortly after Carol's death. Without realising the trauma of that time was still with him, he had foolishly accepted an invitation to take part. He recalled sitting uncomfortably in the studio, mindless of the cameras on him, while this round faced, slender, young woman, outlined the circumstances of his wife being struck by a car driven by a drunk driver.. Yorke, with emotion building inside him once more, was only vaguely aware of Karen Marking asking him quietly, "Mr Millen, do you think that seven years was an adequate sentence?" On a shuddering breath, eyes down, he had replied, "Seven bullets in his sick brain wouldn't have been enough. Nothing would." That said he broke down completely, and was guided off air. What he did recall was Karen Marking's show of understanding and sensitive empathy. But now, successful television presenter to local newspaper seemed a strange career move, but burying the apprehension that old wounds might be opened, he asked Tina to send the lady in. The lady who appeared in his office was totally stunning. She, literally, took his breath away. His state of mind at the time of their last meeting had blunted any appreciation of looks. In a tight black skirt, white blouse, and maroon waistcoat style jacket she was captivating. The loose jacket could not disguise the generous thrust of her breasts. But it was the face he might have passed without recognition. The roundness had gone. Now there almost a gauntness about the cheeks. A couple of little lines at the corners of the eyes indicated that something stressful had overtaken her since their last meeting. But the smile on her full lips was as genuine as ever. For the first time in a very long time, Yorke experienced a surge of desire. "This is a surprise," he said, controlling his emotions, indicating a seat. "I thought it might be," she replied, hitching at her skirt as she sat opposite him, enabling him to appreciate a flash of shapely thigh. She asked how he was, and his reply was less enthusiastic than it might have been. As if detecting this she observed, "We don't seem to meet in the best of circumstances." "And you? What happened to television?" For the briefest moment her blue eyes clouded, "Can we just call it redundancy?" "They can't have found anyone better?" he said with applied charm. She shuffled before replying, "Well, let's say they thought so." Yorke pressed just a little further. Her reluctance intrigued him. "Given your ability though---the Enquirer?" She shrugged, "Jobs aren't all that easy to walk into." She was reluctant to talk about whatever had happened, and she changed the subject herself. "Anyway, it's a challenge. And that's why I'm here really." "What's on your mind?" Yorke asked, while thinking please not the despair of three years ago. Her blue eyes regarded him frankly, and her left hand stroked at the dark hair behind her ear, before she said, "Your school is in a testing situation at the moment. What with the closure rumours, and all." Such expressive blue eyes, that were able to dispense sympathy. The eyes of a highly desirable young lady. As she half turned her body, a blouse covered breast pushed out of the waistcoat, and Yorke wondered if it was just a good bra or did her breasts really have that pointed boldness? God, he had almost forgotten how pleasant such observations could be, but hardly the situation for such thinking. "Oh, yes, definitely testing." He forced his mind back on track. "It must be a nightmare for you. All the rumours. I was wondering—" " And here her eyes lowered briefly, "I'm surprised to find you so composed. I was expecting more grey hair—or even less hair." They laughed together, while an inner hand preened Yorke's ego, "Well, thanks for that much," he said. "By the same token, I may not have recognised you." "Maybe I don't handle stress that well," she sighed, and before he could initiate a follow up, she went on. "What I was after, Mr Millen, is your permission to write some in-depth articles about the school." "In depth?" "A few good human interest pieces— Parents, children affected . Concerns of the staff. Yorke wasn't too sure, and shook his head, "I don't know---what you must understand is that the school must maintain a certain image---I can't see—" " All very newsworthy." She broke in, holding up a hand of apology, before stroking the hair behind her left ear again. "This could help that image. After all, it's only rumours" Yorke sighed, and held up the letter that had remained in his hand, "More than just rumours now." "May I?"she asked, holding out a hand. Yorke shrugged. What harm it would do now? He handed her the letter. Watching her face for reaction as she read, he realised that he was watching because it was a good face to look at. Karen Marking's brow creased as she read, occasionally certain key phrases out loud, " –-closure is being considered----pupil numbers---" The wide eyes looked up at him, "What are your pupil numbers?" "At present two hundred and fifty five—but if parents take fright—" Again, he shrugged. She nodded, handed the letter back, "They now admit considering closure, but the earlier rumours must have stemmed from somewhere." Yorke's eyes widened. That's what he had been thinking. There was more to this young lady than just a pretty face. "Don't you think sympathetic articles in the local press might help?" Her voice was hopeful. Yorke was so aware of those vivid eyes on his face, "You think so?" She licked her lips, and why should that small gesture give him a buzz? "I have to admit that my first impulses were, career-wise, selfish considerations. I'm single, pushing thirty five. " "You don't look it," he said gallantly, but also truthfully. Was that a slight colouring of the cheeks, before she went on? "Rather old to be a cub reporter. I need a good project." She stopped and smiled, "Now I'm making it sound as though I'm begging." "Not at all. I quite understand how you would need that kind of lever." "Thank you. I was going to add that you'd see anything I wrote before publication. Does that sound reasonable?" It sounded most reasonable, and there could be some benefits for the school. It would be a reason to see more of this delectable lady. God, he hadn't felt like this since Carol. "You might provide the input the school needs," he said. "Would you like to make a start next week?" "Ideal," she said, "Thank you. You won't be disappointed. Can we shake on it?" And she stood up and held out a slender hand, which Yorke took, enjoying the delicate warmth emanating from it. "I won't take any more of your time," she said, and added, " I have some contacts. I can probe into Council matters without raising too many suspicions." The smile that accompanied that statement was bright, and lit up her face. Standing there she gave him another opportunity to admire that trim, slender figure. Already, Yorke was looking forward to seeing her again.. He told the staff about the letter, and there were some mumbles of concern. Then he mentioned Karen Marking wanting to talk to them and the general consensus was, ' Anything that helps the school.' Lying in bed that night, Yorke found his mind straying to Karen Marking's appearance, and the long lost effect it had on him. There was a sensuousness there that had not been applied, but appeared quite natural. Instantly, as he lay on his back his thoughts switched to Carol. So often he ducked away from such thoughts, because they were so painful. On this night they poured in, fuelled by what Karen Marking had roused in him. Carol had been a virgin when they met, and had only succumbed to his attempts at love-making when they got engaged. Her sexuality had been slow to develop. Deep kisses, and gentle caresses were the early precursors to intercourse. Yorke had to be very patient. In his mind she had come to life on that evening, several months into their marriage, when he had dared touch his tongue to her already stimulated clitoris. Her hot reaction had started a gradual fire inside her. After that she became more passionate, more demanding, more daring. He had loved her so much. She had even got to the stage where she would be the instigator of their passion. Standing at the bathroom sink one evening, cleaning his teeth, Carol, completely naked, had come to stand behind him. Then her warm hands had reached around his waist, plunged inside his pyjama pants and clutched his softness, while, chuckling, as she nuzzled the side of his neck. The softness never remained that way for long His eyes moistening, he rolled over in bed, and wondered whether he could dream that Karen Marking might free him from this lingering grief. ---------------------------------------------------------- Within days Karen Marking started on her interviews, and was pleased to find the staff welcoming and cooperative. She had already produced one general article on the school situation, and had been lifted by Yorke Millen's appreciation of, as he put it, "an article that was skillful and uplifting.". Seeing him on her first visit, had reminded her what a good looking man he was, and it was to good find that he now looked even better. Although she might not have admitted it, meeting him in his office, had produced a long withheld fluttering in her lower body. Surprising how often she unexpectedly met him as she moved around the school. Was that accidental? Less surprising was how good she felt when it happened. She had arranged an interview time with him on the Wednesday, and she had dressed coolly in white blouse and blue cotton skirt. His look had been appreciative, and she warned herself not to read too much into it. At that meeting they came to an early agreement, for as she sat down across from him, he had said, "May I start by saying Ms Marking, how pleased I am with the way you've handled this. " It sounded terribly pompous and formal. "Could you call me Karen? Everyone else does. And thank you, I'm enjoying the task" "Then you must call me Yorke," he responded , and any formality disappeared. "An unusual name." "My parent's nod at the place of my conception. In view of the Minster." Delighted at this relaxation, Karen had laughed easily. Then listened keenly as he told her how her own paper had published two separate articles on the subject of bullying in the school. Neither of them true. "Of course you did protest?" ""Yes, and to be fair the guy was sacked for not checking the story more thoroughly. But the damage was done. The school undermined." Karen pursed her lips, "And the irony is, I probably got his job." Then her face hardened, "But retractions attract less attention than juicy stories. No wonder you were cagey about me." She wallowed in Yorke's reassuring smile, "But what you are doing is more than welcome. I'm not cagey about you anymore" And she found herself almost wishing that he would add, 'Quite the opposite." But she was nevertheless aware of how their eyes held contact for longer than they might have. Could there really be some promise behind those brown eyes? "What you probably don't know is that we acquired a new editor in April. That's probably why there's been no reaction to me doing this story." She held up a set of papers clipped together, "I've brought this draft for you to read. It's the article giving the staff reactions." "No problem. Is there anything else?" "Well yes, I've been to talk to a Mr Raymond, in the finance department at the council." Karen was rather proud of having pushed this far. "Oh, yes, why him?" She shrugged, "I knew him from other assignments." "Any use?" " Nothing but the cash-strapped business for Councils. But then he mentioned that Midsdale school, closed just last year." "They did." "And they're building a factory right on that spot already." "Is that right?" "Yes, so the income from the land could have been considerable. Imagine how the Council could score if this school was to close." Yorke turned in his chair. "See out there," he said, pointing to the view out of the window. Karen saw the open school playing fields and then a wide stretch of cultivated fields up to the nearby Stanning village."It is a lot of land." "A gentleman named Scaley owns it. Applied for planning permission to build houses, and was turned down twice. Insufficient road access given as the reason." "Intriguing " "Not new ground, but worth following up on, Karen." Karen had a satisfied glow inside her as she was able to tell him, "Great, I'm glad you think so too. I have an appointment with somebody in the land office for Friday morning." She was sure his look at her was one of admiration. She had hoped he'd be impressed with this show of enthusiasm. "You really are true to your word, aren't you?" he said. She smiled briefly before admitting soberly, "I enjoy doing it." Later that afternoon before she left she decided to call in to see if he'd read her latest article. Entering the office she searched his face with hopeful eyes. Her heart leapt at his reaction, "Another superb article, Karen. I'm so pleased you are around." If that gave her a lift what came next really thrilled her. "Look, I'm keen to know what you find out on Friday." Karen gave a waft of her hand and a rueful smile, "It will have to be next week sometime. I've got a hectic few days coming up." Her blue eyes gave him an apologetic glance as she quipped, "Busy. Busy. So next Wednesday would be the earliest." Yorke thought about that for a moment, "I can wait a week. How about a pub meal next Wednesday? Early evening?" It felt like a flare had gone off inside her. Did she actually blush? She wasn't sure, but she was thrilled by the prospect. He could have met her here in school. Would her smiled acceptance be too obvious? It was as if he had awarded her Journalist of the Year. "The Blue Dragon convenient? Say six thirty? Just to talk it through." She could accept that last 'talk it through'. "I know it well." She told him, and left the building on a real high. Beware of over-reaction, madam. After Karen had left Yorke sat and pondered the significance of their meeting. School-wise her efforts were totally commendable. From a personal point of view being with her had been quite enchanting. The bright sunshine filtering through the blinds painted a tiger effect on the far wall, as well as across Karen's crisp white blouse. Disconcertingly Yorke found himself wondering how much of a tiger was locked inside her. Control yourself, Millen. She had a highly efficient look about her, yet she still looked most desirable. While looking at her as she had sat there, Yorke noted that his earlier observation about her 'gauntness' had been unfair. Now his impressions were of an attractive, high cheek-boned face, open and alert. With a pang it struck him that it was not unlike Carol's facial structure. Not the same delicate skin, but smooth and slightly freckled, and lit by the lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. He would look forward to the following Wednesday to see if she came up with any more information. And only that? Admit it, Millen, you want this connection to develop, don't you? This lady has touched you in a way that no woman has since-- since--then. He hastily got on with some paper work. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ On the evening of the following Wednesday, Karen Marking, locked her car. Her folder tucked under her arm, she was just a little excited, and looking forward to the evening on two fronts. First, she was hoping that Yorke would be pleased with the information she had. But she was looking forward to being with him in this less formal situation. She had spruced up with a little more thoroughness this evening. A long warm shower, a bit more fussing with her hair, and careful, yet minimal, make-up. All topped with a favourite lemon blouse, dark green cotton skirt, overlaid with a pale green cotton short sleeved jacket. The only annoyance was that she had been given a function to cover at eight thirty that evening. Some literary presentation in Tynemouth. She had cursed that it would cut into what might have turned out to be a more than interesting evening. She had been to the Blue Dragon with a couple of girl friends fairly recently, and liked it. She chose a table in the corner of the large room, recalling lessons learned about being too attracted to any man. Thank you, Mr Patrick Webber, lesson learned. She brushed that thought from her mind, reminding herself that this meeting was not a date, just a review of an agreed situation. So why was she wishing it was a date? Yet, as soon as Yorke Summers entered, smart in a navy blazer and blue open necked shirt, she felt that familiar shakiness in the pit of her stomach. Time with him recently, had added other suppressed quivers inside her. A wide, genuine smile of greeting, and he apologised for being late, as he sat down across the table from her. "You said six thirty, it isn't that yet. I was early," she reminded him. They talked briefly about the weather, as he slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, an action which she enjoyed watching. She wondered what he looked like with the shirt off, and quickly scolded herself.. "Should we order straight away?" he asked. "I'm as hungry as a bear," she admitted. "And it will take time." "Right, let's choose. What's good?" Yorke asked, picking up the menu. "I was here not long ago. The steak and kidney pie in ale, I can recommend." "I'll settle for that, then." "Make it two." Delighted that he had accepted her opinion so readily. Getting to his feet, he declared, " Two it is, and I'm buying." "Oh, I can't let ---" He held up a hand, "No argument. This was my idea." Just a little embarrassed at accepting so readily, she looked up at him gratefully. Once again enjoying what she saw. God, his eyes were so deep, yet so wide and honest. Stick to the business in hand, Karen. "Care for a glass of wine with it?" Plying me with drink, is it? "That would be ideal." And enjoyed the private double meaning in that. "I'm driving, but one medium white, please." Working, Waiting, Wanting What she had to tell would be useful to him, she hoped. She so wanted to please him further, remembering the pleasure his reaction to her article had given her. Just maintain his respect, be happy with that, she told herself, as she shrugged out of the green jacket. He arrived back at the table, set down two glasses of wine, sat down and remarked, "You suit lemon---or should it be lemon suits you." Having his eyes notice her like that was so warming. "Thank you," she said, and treated him to a special smile. Well, she hoped he would tell it was special. To cover her uncertainty she asked, "You'll be on holiday soon, won't you?" He nodded, "Just a few busy days away," And he laughed, "God, I wished you hadn't reminded me." "You don't look forward to holidays?" He shrugged, "Just so much to do between now and then." Time to start the action, she thought, as she reached down to her feet and came up holding the clear plastic folder containing papers. "I hope this interests you. Since that's why you're here." She was daring enough to allow her eyes to fix on his briefly, with the unspoken question, "Isn't it?" "Based on your visit last week?" he asked, and he was leaning forward clearly keen to see what she had found. "That and a couple of other enquiries." She reached into the folder and came out with a single sheet of paper. Now to find out whether she could surprise and please him. "Benjamin Scaley, builder. You mentioned him." "Yes, refused twice. Wanted to build a hundred houses." . Karen enjoyed the look of disappointment on his face She trusted she could remove that look."Do you know the rest?" She saw his interest perk up, just as a little red-faced waitress arrived with two steaming plates. The savoury aroma alone set her stomach rumbling, but she was just a little annoyed that a special moment had been disrupted. They were silent for a moment as they picked up their cutlery and began to taste the meal. "Good choice, Karen," Yorke said appreciatively. "I knew it would be," she replied, delighted that he agreed with her, but wondering how they could get back on track while eating. But he was obviously as hooked as she hoped he would be, for, resting his cutlery, he looked up at her. "What was the rest you mentioned?" She attempted an enigmatic smile as she said, "Scaley sold the land." Clear surprise showed on his face. "When?" "Roughly one year ago. Two million." How encouraging was it to see him forget about the food, and ask, "Who would pay for land that had no planning chance?" Oh, how she enjoyed the look on that handsome face, " A group called Hangford Properties." She watched him as, a puzzled look on his face, he ate in silence for a moment, clearly deep in thought. Emptying his mouth and taking a sip of wine, he asked, "Why would they want it?" Would he make the connection? She wondered. "Doesn't seem sensible, does it? I checked up on them. Got caught up in the 1989 nose-dive—but survived." Yorke was clearly intrigued, "But still came up with two million for land which---" He paused and the obvious question now sprang to his lips. "When did you say this happened?" Ah, here it was, the connection she'd hoped he'd make. She told him the date, and watched him eagerly. "Just before we became aware that the school was at risk," he murmured."God, this is so close." "So is that a connection---or what?" And she put on what she hoped was her best journalistic mask. But she could see that Yorke still remained a little guarded, unwilling to accept a total truth, "Taking a risk though. After all, closure was only a suggestion." She warmed to his brown eyes regarding her, as he went on, "But you, madam, have been a true snooper. What inside information would prompt buying land already refused planning permission?" Yorke finished his meal well ahead of her, and as she ate she knew his were eyes on her. She kept her head down, well aware that she was not a lady-like eater. Her father had once said. "You eat with all the voraciousness of a starved bulldog." She couldn't possibly know what Yorke was thinking, but had to admit that, on this one, he would have to take her as she was. She believed she had no false modesties, or pretensions. As soon as both plates were clear, she stacked them and took them to the bar. When she came back, Yorke observed, "With the school gone there would be much greater ease of access," ."And then some. A real Catch 22 situation. If they built houses on the land the school would grow. But they can only build if the school closes. Crazy?" And again he showed they were on the same wavelength, "Whoever purchased the land must have had some insight." "So they could make a gamble on the school closing." She was really enjoying their shared enthusiasm. "You have done wonderfully well. I'll follow up on it, I've spoken to so many Council officials, Leader, deputy leader, you name it, I've talked to them all. Now, just maybe, you've given me a loophole to dig at." Grateful at his appreciative words, she glanced at her watch, "I'm afraid I have to go." She so wanted him to go on. "That bloody function." "Right. I'll let you know what I find. How soon can we meet again?" "Well, I'm down in Yorkshire tomorrow, and that could expand to Friday," she said quietly, and here came a wonderful chance to bring him closer. Perhaps. And she looked at him with a look, which, she hoped was brightly challenging. "Are you a risk taker?" "Now what does that mean?" "Would you be against allowing me to prepare a meal for you? From my own kitchen," she said with mock grandeur. "Saturday, say? I know I'll be free then." "Oh, I don't want to be any trouble." Trouble? This was not going to be trouble. She didn't see herself as the best cook in the world but she could turn up a fairly presentable meal. Eating alone could become a bad habit, and here was a man that, for once, she was sure she wanted to share more than just a meal with. "Hey, there are times when I'm glad of any company at the moment." "Oh, thanks a lot," he laughed with a mock pout. "I didn't mean it like that," she giggled, touching his arm lightly. How daring was that? "I know. But what's the risk?" "My cooking," she said , with a grin. "I'd be happy to come. There's just one thing stopping me." "What's that?" "I don't know where you live." It was a delight to share another laugh. Karen was sure in that moment they were drawn closer together. Outside, they stood by her car in the warm evening air. He was standing very close, and Karen was sure she could feel the heat from him. Probably her imagination, but then unexpectedly, he had bent and kissed her gently on the lips. Before she could respond, he had stepped back saying, "I'm really very grateful for your help." As she drove away, Karen could still feel the tingle on her lips. Two more seconds and who knows what might have happened. Damn, this bloody function. Roll on Saturday. ________________________________________________ By the time Saturday came around, Yorke could hardly wait to tell Karen what he had learned in the intervening days. He had first gone on the internet to look up Hangford Properties. From that point his excitement had been almost uncontainable. That morning he'd had a long talk with the Director of Education, and now had to wait patiently for the outcome. Karen was the only one he could tell at this stage. He couldn't wait to watch the enthusiasm on that so stunning face. He had an encouraging feeling that this dinner invitation was more than just dinner, or school problems, but maybe he was misreading the situation. By the time he drew up outside Karen's neat detached house at precisely eight o'clock, rain was pounding on the car roof and leaping in arrow heads off the roads and pavement. Mr Ever-ready. No umbrella, no coat. Not even bothering to lock the car, he slammed the door behind him, and dashed for the cover of the shallow awning at her front door, the plastic bag, in which he had carried the wine, held in useless cover over his head. She opened the door before he reached it, and her mouth set in a little 'oh' somewhere between regret and humour. "You really caught it." "Too stupid," Yorke laughed as he stepped inside, shaking himself like a great Dane. "I knew it was coming---" He kicked off his shoes, which had splashed through several small lakes, handed over the wine and slipped out of his jacket, before loosening his tie. "Hang it there," she said, indicating the coat rack. "Are you all right otherwise?" A few spots on his trousers he reckoned would soon dry. He followed her into a good sized sitting room, neatly furnished in modern styles. A small suite consisting of armchair and two-seater sofa in tan leather. A couple of tasteful water-colours on the walls. and a table neatly set in one corner. Two places facing each other, and candles already lit. Karen wore a simple pale blue summer dress, above knee length, with a scooped neckline. It gave her a coolly competent look. Yorke resisted but admitted that it also loaned a quite delectable quality to her. As his eyes took in the room she asked, "Like to eat right away?" "Any time you like." Within minutes they were sitting at the table and she was dishing out chicken breasts in a smooth red sauce, with broccoli, baby potatoes and French beans. He sensed her eyes watching anxiously as he took his first bite at the chicken. The sauce had a most delicate piquancy that teased his palette. He told her, and she looked relieved and grateful, as she poured the wine. Over the meal they talked about anything but his reason for being there. The change in the weather, the news about refugees. He allowed himself two half glasses of wine. When it came to clearing up, he noticed that a good two thirds of the bottle had gone. Karen obviously enjoyed it. Her cheeks had taken on a full rosy glow. "Leave the dishes," she said, as he began collecting them. "We'll have a coffee. Or would you prefer something stronger?" "Coffee would be fine." As he settled into the easy chair he noticed a photograph on the windowsill. A young, handsome, fair haired man smiled broadly at the camera, high green hills behind him. Karen placed a tray on the small table between them, and, as she sat on the sofa facing him, her eyes studied him openly. "You're not going to keep me waiting much longer are you?" she said with a cautious smile. Yorke nodded, noticing her trim figure more closely. She curved in all the right places. Was his increased observation just because of the wine? He knew damned well it wasn't. But, picking up his coffee cup, he said, "Thanks to you, Karen, I was able to follow up on Hangford Properties on the internet. Found their website, on which the directors were listed. Littleson and Clarke, seem to be the top two. Nothing outstanding among the directors. Then I came across a page of what are called 'Associates', and running down that list I found one name that did bulge out at me." He stopped, took a sip of his coffee, and watched the way Karen hung on his every word. In repose her mouth turned down slightly at the corners. Sadly sensual, he would have defined it. But when she was animated it became highly expressive, and really quite fascinating. God, she was so good to look at. And better to touch, I'd bet, said a wicked voice in his head. "Go on. Go on," she urged impatiently. He gave her a smile and went on, "The name was Norma Evingstonly." "Unusual surname." "Isn't it though? But it happened to be a surname I recognised.This morning I had a long talk with Harold Murton, the director of education. Before I revealed anything, I asked if talk of school closure came from any particular direction. Almost without hesitation, he said it had been his deputy, along with a couple of other committee members. Just as I hoped." "And?" Yorke hoped his smile wasn't too triumphant. "The name of the deputy director is---Raymond Evingstonly. .Further checking and---they're brothers, Karen. That's all really. Murton has assured me he'll look into the matter most carefully and get back to me." "So it's wait and see? Oh, so close." She glanced at his empty coffee cup, "Another?" she asked, and when he thanked her and demurred, she added, "A whiskey?" "Well, if you are having something---but small. Half and half with water. I'm driving." But Karen was away immediately, and he watched the way her buttocks moved under her skirt but were her legs just a little unsteady? She came back with two tumblers, handed Yorke the whiskey and sat down again nursing a tumbler of clear fluid. "A gin lady?" "Vodka," she replied, and for the next fifteen minutes or so they talked through the various outcomes of what they had found. She stood up with her tumbler empty, "A top up?" she asked. "Not for me, Karen, thanks." And as she staggered slightly past the coffee table he added, "You know as much as anyone now, Karen. A little patience now, and you may score a big story out of it." When she returned and sat down with her recharged tumbler, her eyes seemed moister, less focused, a more shaded blue somehow. Leaning forward as she sat, her neckline drooped to reveal gentle curves. Yorke wondered about the sense in suggesting that she had maybe had enough drink. But as she placed her glass on the table she said, "I've never explained why I'm out of television." Was there a slur in her speech? He shook his head, interested, but wondering where this fit into the way the conversation had moved. Her head lowered, "Yorke, I'm thirty four years old. I'm no easy catch, but I've been around. I was married when I was twenty three. Just after I got my first job in television. I was assistant producer. He was a camera man. Ian Marking." Her eyes moved beyond me towards the window, and Yorke guessed who was in that photograph. "I adored him." Her eyes came back, wide to hold his, "He was killed in a car crash on the Alnwick by-pass. We'd been married just two and a half years." "I'm sorry," he said and meant it. It explained the empathy she had shown towards him during the time after Carol. "So I knew what you were going through, you see," she said, as though thinking in parallel with him. "Nothing could be harder to bear. I buried myself in my work. Flogged myself to the top---directing, producing. I was well in. But empty inside." "Then eighteen months ago I got involved with Patrick Webber, one of the company directors of Northern Television. Started after a party--- I was high as a kite. So was he. Succumbed that first evening in the back of his Merc. Exotic stuff, you see." And her attempt at a smile was only partly successful as her lips trembled. A tell-tale moistness flickered in the corners of her eyes. "You know, Yorke, I've told this to no one before. You don't mind listening?" He shook his head, but not certain inside. "After that night---well, to be frank, it went on. And he wasn't that great a lover." Her giggle held little real humour." I blamed long term celibacy." She paused, flicking at the corner of her eye, while he wrestled with the thought that he did not really want any further detail. "Eighteen months ago, we were alone in the office, It was late. Anyway, ---the managing director, Curtis Royston walked in---" Yorke thought for just a moment that her face was about to crumble, lips puckered, eyes squeezed closed and then came wide again. "You see, --- Patrick was married---only he was married to Curtis Royston's daughter. Oh, I'd known that---no excuses. Anyway, there was a scene. Then they cooked something up between them. He was found a post down in Yorkshire—and I was asked to submit my notice." "You could have fought that, surely?" "Unfair dismissal---well, I might have---you know, it was me who was riddled with guilt---isn't that crazy? Working TV always gave me a sense of remaining close to Ian---but it was gone. I'm sure Royston got to other companies. Nobody was interested. So, here I am, trying to get myself back into gear—and failing." Her head bowed, and her shoulders heaved, for a moment. Yorke thought she was weeping. But she raised her head, the blue eyes remained moist, while her hand pressed to her cheek as though desperately suppressing the urge. Then slowly she stood up, "I need a tissue. Silly of me, after all this time." Without thinking about it Yorke stood, stepped towards her and put, what he hoped was a comforting arm, around her shoulder. "The price of contentment always seems high, doesn't it?" he said, quietly. He was aware that she moved in closer, as though submitting to the comfort of his arm. Her forehead lowered to his shoulder. Her perfume was a delicate coaxing in his nostrils, as though gentle fingers were probing his senses. His own finger tips touched the smooth warm skin of her upper arm. Her arms rested lightly around him. For maybe a minute they stood like that, not moving. At last she drew back her head. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice lowered to a near whisper. "I didn't realise how difficult the telling would be." "Well, if it has helped at all it will be no bad thing. You had a bad deal." She sighed, "Another hard lesson learned." "Such lessons are difficult to value," he agreed, becoming more aware of her warmth radiating through the thin dress, and his long suppressed response. Her face turned up to his, the full lips slightly parted, a questioning in the eyes, and her arms tightened imperceptibly around him. Such a lovely looking lady. Warmly available, Yorke knew it. "Is there such a thing as mutual solace?" she asked, her breath warm on his cheek, sweet in his nostrils. "I'm sure there is," he replied gently, fighting the battle between the physical and the cerebral, trying to turn his body so she would not be aware of the effect her proximity was having. His kiss was intended to be warm, gentle as it had been outside The Blue Dragon, but very quickly her lips became more demanding, her tongue searching for his. Somehow she had twisted her body so that the hand that had been on her upper arm now covered her breast, so soft, so shapely. Yorke was too aware of her hips squirming against his rising erection. An unwanted voice was screaming warnings in his head. With superhuman strength he broke the kiss. "Karen, Karen," he gasped. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think maybe you have downed so much wine, that tomorrow you could regret this. You know too well that mistakes can be hurtful." Her hold relaxed, and it hurt him to see a shadow of disappointment cross her face. "Repent at leisure, you mean? Of course, you're right. And please forgive me---you see, I can be so selfish." His hands returned to her shoulders and he looked into her face, "If this is going to happen between us, I think it should be natural, and not drink induced." He noticed the deep breath she took before the lovely eyes looked back at him and admitted, "You're right.".She moved away from him to glance in a mirror over the fireplace, "Oh, I see it all now," she laughed easily. "That is hardly an attractive prospect." There had been a slight slick of eye-shadow, and her lipstick had smudged. "It's a very attractive prospect," he said soothingly, yet honestly. "One not to be taken lightly." "But one not to be taken." She looked at him regretfully before saying, "Would you excuse me a second?" Yorke nodded and sat down on the sofa again, trying desperately to cool down, and accept that he had done the right thing. He was just a little angry with himself at just how easy it could have been for him to go with it. Relax into it. But, in spite of his physical reaction, he was certain that there could have been guilty repercussions later. If it was going to happen between them he wanted it to be clear and mutual. Working, Waiting, Wanting But, there was no doubt now, he desired Karen Marking. A lady he would enjoy being with. How ironic was that, having just rebuffed her? When she returned, she had regained all her composure. Her face glowed, and the gentle downward curve at the corners of her mouth was highly suggestible. It was a feature that immediately changed with the wide smile she gave him as she sat down opposite. "Thank you, you were right. I succumbed once before because of drink. Now, tell me how I can help." It was good to see her switch into that high efficiency mode. As though she was shutting out their brief diversion. It was five minutes past eleven when they said their farewells at her front door. The rain had stopped, but trees and bushes seemed decked in amber, as droplets caught the yellow lamplight. Yorke reached out and gripped her hand in a tight, yet brief squeeze of gratitude as he thanked her for the meal and her involvement. The same yellow that decked the trees caused her eyes to take on a feral glow as she looked up at him. He could not define the expression on her face, if it was disappointment then he was both glad and sorry. But he risked bending to bestow the kind of kiss he'd given her outside the Blue Dragon. As their lips touched, there was a loud unearthly screeching somewhere behind him. Mutually startled, they each turned their heads, and laughed with some relief as two cats appeared on the shadowed lawn, face to face, backs arched. Almost by instinct Yorke made a cat scaring squawk that his father had taught him so many years ago. The pair disappeared. Karen's eyes turned to him again as she said, "There are two things for which animals are to be envied: they know nothing of future evils, or of what people say about them. " "That's very profound." "Voltaire—remembered from university." "Oh, maybe we could discuss that sometime," Smiling, Yorke placed his hands on the curve of her shoulders, "Can I make you a promise?" "Anytime," she said, with a fervour that pleased him. "If Murton comes up with the news we want to hear, I will take you out for a super deluxe meal." She gave him a sensuous up and under look, "Only if we skip the restaurant coffee, and come back here for---that." Her look was almost lascivious as she added firmly."And I'll only have one glass of wine." "Sounds good. Let's hope it's soon" It took five frustrating days. Yorke threw himself into all the tasks that were part of the end of the school year. Many of those tasks related to the beginning of the next school year but were essential, nonetheless. Burying himself in the work did not shake the promise of Karen from his mind. He had spent some time wondering what would have been the outcome if he had taken advantage of that momentary clinch on Saturday night. The fact that her judgement may have been suspect because of drink, had troubled him. Or maybe she really did want him. No doubt that since that moment he first saw her enter his office, he had wanted her. Why had it taken him so long to admit that to himself? Karen had phoned once to ask if there was any news, and he promised her that she would be one of the first to know. On the Thursday, she was actually in school, and just looking at her, efficient in her almost standard white blouse, he knew, knew without a doubt, that she was for him. By some magic of coincidence she had just come into his office to give her farewells when the phone rang. Holding his breath, Yorke heard, "Murton here. You all right, Yorke?" Yorke's heart was pounding, as he mouthed 'Murton' to Karen, and she, eyes wide, moved closer, and during the whole duration of the following conversation their eyes remained locked. "I'm fine." "Good. I have to tell you that the Council have checked all aspects of what you told me. And—your school is no longer on the closure list." His head nodding, a wide smile on his face, Yorke was able to convey that news to Karen without speaking. Karen, her eyes moist, reached out and gripped his free hand. "And Evingstonly?" "Suspended, but I don't think he'll be returning. You can have a happy break now." There were a few other comments, but as soon as Yorke put down the phone, Karen was in his arms, pressed against him, kissing him wildly. When they finally broke, Yorke said, "You started this. Now there's much to do. And you have an exclusive." "Hell,yes," she said, "I must get this in right away. It'll make tomorrow's edition, I hope." She hurried to the door. "And I have to get newsletters out for parents, and of course tell the staff." Just before she went out he called, "Would you be free Saturday night for that deluxe meal?" "Oh, I'm not sure," she laughed, paused and added, "I'm positive." "I'll pick you up at seven thirty." So it was that Saturday night, showered, and powdered, scented and gently made up, Karen had put on her snugly fitting blue satin dress that revealed her shoulders, and just a subtle amount of cleavage. She so hoped her appearance would please him, so determined that this would be a night to remember. She could hardly wait. Eagerly she watched for Yorke's Honda Civic to appear outside her house. Yorke had booked a table at the Club 25 on the Quayside, making it a very special evening. She knew this was a high class establishment, and as they settled at their table under low crystal chandeliers. Karen had to admit to him that she was highly impressed, and just a little stunned by his generosity. Delightedly, he was equally frank, "It was meant to impress you, but mainly it's because you deserve this kind of appreciation" Despite the elegance of the place, her eyes kept coming back to Yorke, elegant in his grey suit, with dark blue shirt and light blue tie, so cool. "I bought it specially for this night," he told her. "You look stunning. If the food's as good as your appearance---" She could have basked in his comments all night. Then the starter came and she had never had quail before. She wondered if she'd ever have it so deliciously done. The beef bourguignon they shared was just perfection. As they ate they talked lightly around a range of subjects. She really tried to be more lady-like in eating the delicious fare placed before her. And she knew, from the kindly smile on Yorke's face, that her struggle was futile. And they only had one glass of wine each. The smile on Yorke's face was mainly from the sheer pleasure of being there with Karen. It would be foolish to assume that he had not thought ahead to what might develop later in the evening. The prospect of having her in his arms was almost overwhelming. Once the meal was over, the waiter was surprised that they turned down the offer of coffee. Their smiles at each other at that moment, sent an invisible message flashing between the pair of them. Just sitting opposite her, looking into those blue eyes, dropping his eyes to the bare shoulders and the cleavage encased in the blue of the gown, had Yorke almost fearful that he might do something that would spoil this evening. As soon as they were in the car, Karen leaned against him, and Yorke did exactly what she was hoping. He turned, took her in his arms and their mouths came together, and they kissed passionately, their tongues searching each other. Yorke's hands were on her bare shoulders and she was longing to have them all over her body. She saw the bulge that had appeared in his pants and was sorely tempted to reach for it, but remembered he had to drive safely. Yorke drove the five miles to her front door with her hand clutching his thigh, just above the knee. It kept his libido ticking over nicely. After all the restrained encounters they had experienced, he was longing to possess her totally. His only fear was, that it had been so long, but he smiled at the thought that he might have forgotten how to do it. "Why are you smiling?" Karen asked, giving his thigh another squeeze. "That's exactly why," he told her, and briefly took a hand from the wheel to caress it over hers. For the whole journey Karen's desire had been rising, and the moment Yorke applied the hand brake at her front gate, she slid her hand across his thigh and onto that bulge. Yorke's instant reaction was to turn to her, and their open mouths came together, and tongues met up once more. Karen was ecstatic to feel his hand slide up under her dress and trace a smooth course along her thigh, until he was touching her soaked panties. Her hand fumbled for the zip on his pants, found it and pulled it down. At that moment Yorke broke the kiss. It had been his intention that their coming together would be a measured erotic process, with much touching, and long slow kisses. The second Karen touched him, and he'd slid his hand up to her wetness, he knew it just couldn't be that way. Karen's eagerness matched his own. "Too uncomfortable, " he growled, even in the dim light he could see the passion blazing in her lovely eyes. "Let's get inside." Regretting to be pulling away from her hand, which had only just touched on its firm objective, Yorke opened his car door and slid out. That brief touch of his so solid penis, allied to his fingers sampling her wet labia, had Karen longing to straddle him. But his words brought just a shade of calm. Muttering, "That's what I want, You inside—me," she opened her door, and hurried around to see Yorke removing his jacker and slinging it over his shoulder. All the way up the garden path they were kissing and clumsily fondling each other. At the door Karen fumbled in her handbag for the key. As she took a few nervous jabs to locate the lock, her other hand reached back and groped inside his pants, as she whispered, "Unzip me. Unzip me." With fingers that were all thumbs, and still carried the aroma of their recent activity he located the catch at the back of her gown and the ratcheting noise of the zips descent was one of the most sensuous sounds he had ever heard. Then they were inside. Yorke kicked the door closed, aware that Karen had already shrugged out of her gown, and she was instantly in his arms. Keen as he was, he was almost overwhelmed by her eagerness to find his erection, and her fingers closing round it and pulling it free of his pants made him grunt. He slid his hands inside her panties, and, as he was pushing them down she was moving in closer, guiding his throbbing penis to where it was demanded. He bent his knees slightly to facilitate her intentions, as their tongues fought each other in a wild kiss. Yorke's erection in her hands felt enormous, and Karen just wanted to have it inside her. Aware that Yorke had bent his knees, she was able to nuzzle his penis head along her eager labia, and as he made his first thrust, she released his penis and grabbed at his buttocks. Two sensations hit her at once; his erection piercing up into her eager vagina, and the vigour of his entry lifting her off her feet, as she was pushed back against the wall. As soon as Karen had placed the head of his penis deep into her labia, Yorke had only one thought, to push into her as far as he could. The sensation of gliding up to his very hilt in that luxurious, wet warmth, was increased by the knowledge that he had lifted her off her feet to slam against the wall, and he felt her legs wrap around him. She was totally skewered on his erection, and the twitching of her vaginal walls told him that it was all right for her. Karen was suspended in some kind of heaven, with Yorke deep inside her where she had wanted him to be since they'd met. A brief thought of Alan crept into her mind, but was immediately swept away as she thought she might be slipping down the wall, and Yorke's next delicious thrust rode her back into position. She squeezed her legs tightly around him, ensuring that the only movement he could make was a twitch of his hips. That penis inside her was everything she had imagined throughout the early evening. It filled her completely. Their kissing had been broken as they buried their face into respective shoulders. Yorke had listened for Karen's breathing to see if there was any telling increase to indicate an approaching orgasm. His concern stemmed from the fact that his scrotum was screaming to release and he knew that his time was already near, no matter how long he tried to withhold it. Then it was on him, the pulsing of her vaginal walls, his long term celibacy, and sheer desire, all caught up with him, and with a gurgled moan, he gave one massive final thrust, and felt his juices spilling up into the heart of her. Oh, God, it was marvellous. The moment Yorke's thrust had lifted her body further up the wall, Karen knew he was climaxing. Could she actually sense the flow of his sperm inside her? She rode with his pleasure knowing that she wasn't quite going to make it on this trip, but, nevertheless it had been a pure joy for her. As his diminishing penis slid out of her she lowered her legs to the floor, and sensing Yorke's legs giving way she went down with him so they were sitting on the floor, hugging close. "Too quick, wasn't I?" he whispered. "It's been longer for you," she said gently her hand stroking his hair. "Phew, that wasn't the way I meant it to be." Karen looked into his face in the faint light, "What did you want?" "Slow, sensuous—" She hugged him, "Oh, we've still got time for that. A shower now?" Stiffly they climbed to their feet, and Karen started to giggle. "What's the matter?" "All we've done and I've still got my bra on. Don't you like my breasts?" He laughed with her, "Don't know. Never seen them. Anyway I'm still in pants and shirt." She took his hand, and said scoldingly," Come on. Shower." Like an obedient schoolboy he allowed her to lead him upstairs. Just a couple of steps behind her, it was a treat to watch the sway of her bare buttocks as she mounted the stairs. As Karen led him into a large bedroom, she switched on a bedside light, so he could quickly view the major feature, which was the bed, all coloured cushions over a pink duvet. She led him through another door, into a fully tiled en-suite with a wide shower cubicle. As she entered she switched on the light. In the aftermath of their encounter downstairs, Karen was feeling warmly satisfied. Now she was eager for his reaction to seeing her fully exposed body, and was just as keen to see his. Crazily she'd held his penis in her hand, had it inside her but she'd never really seen it. She moved now to the shower cubicle, and turned on the spray, checking for temperature. When she turned back, Yorke was just standing looking at her, so immediately she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and let it fall. "There now," she said, watching the look in his eye. Yorke just stared in some wonder, as Karen stood there naked, yet without a trace of self consciousness. Flawless, he thought, her body was flawless, as he had guessed it would be. Her breasts, just a good handful, were proud and tipped with brown nipples. Her waist nipped in and flowed out to her hips in an elegant curve. The vivid black of her bush, topped smooth elegant thighs. "That," he told her,"is a sight worth waiting for. Perfect for stroking." As he took a step towards her, she held up a hand, "Aren't you just a little overdressed for the occasion." Smiling, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his pants, and watched as her eyes travelled up and down his body. "Quite well made," she observed lightly, "but am I prepared to let it rub against mine?" Within seconds, they were in the shower together. Soaping each other with sensuous enthusiasm, they laughed as Karen lowered the water temperature, and the spray cooled their heated bodies. Their hands slid easily over sudsy skin. Yorke's first touch of those elegant breasts had him telling Karen that his soaped fingers were on a slippery slope, but when he touched her nipples he heard the low moan in her throat. His hands glided over breast and down into her groin with delicately applied precision. Karen found sliding her hands over his skin was rapturous. Over his shoulders, his chest, down his back, over his buttocks, to linger there, before stroking his belly, and down to the softness of his genitals. All simply euphoric. They took there own pleasurable time in drying each other off. In the bedroom, Karen moved some of the cushions to one side, before lying flat on her back, while Yorke sat on the edge, enjoying once more, a view of her delectable body. Her legs were slightly parted, and from his angle he could now see the hint of pouting labia among the black pubic hair. So tempting he would have liked to plunge down there to exercise his tongue. But discretion was called for. Yorke leaned over her, "How would you like this to be?" "Good for both of us." "I could just sit up here and look at you," he admitted. "Having your eyes on me is thrilling, but we could kiss, and you may have noticed my breasts are rather sensitive to touch." And she gave him a cheeky grin, which he buried with a warm kiss. Karen had a few ideas of what she would like, but since he had asked first she would give him his way. Later she might apply a thrill or two of her own, for his sake. The kiss they were now involved in was deep and stimulating, as their tongues entwined. His fingers had been playing with her hair, and had trailed down her neck, to drift gently over the skin of her shoulders. Soon, her breasts were receiving his delicate attention, and she was already breathing hard. A magic touch as he favoured her nipples. His body was pressed close to hers, and she was aware of the gentle prodding of a rising erection. Something to look forward to. .It was the pressure on Karen's thigh that told Yorke his penis was coming back to life. The only trouble for him was the need to think back to what had pleased Carol. It was his only source of knowledge really. But this new found intimacy was making it easier to bear. He broke the kiss and laid his mouth on her bare shoulder. Skin this soft, this smooth, required being treated with some distinction. She was so eminently desirable. So, with his lips moving over her shoulder, and his hand caressing her breast, he told her that. Karen had been just lying there savouring his every move. If he not had a woman since his wife, he was being a most considerate lover. Her hands were moving down over his buttocks, just hinting at dipping into the crack. Bending her head slightly she kissed along his neck, very aware of the increasing pressure of his growing erection. She wanted to honour that sooner rather than later. Yorke too, was highly aware that his penis was almost fully erect now. Was it just the sight of her, the touch of her skin, or the fragile aroma that came from her.? He moved his lips over her breasts, such soft silkiness. His tongue tickled at her nipples, feeling them swell, and hearing her gasps of pleasure. Good. He took one into his mouth and sucked gently on it. Her intake of breath told him that she was well on course. Yorke's attention to her breast was so exquisite, and Karen knew that already a moistening had begun between her legs. She knew she needed to be touched there, and was delighted when Yorke allowed the fingers of one hand to stray down over her flat belly. Then he moved them so he was favouring her curves from breast to waist to hip and back again. God, he was good. It was as if he knew her actual needs. Next, his hand had moved to her inner thigh, where it moved back and forth with such gentle adulation. She was quite ecstatic with his movement, but in her mind she wasa screaming, 'Get there. Get there.' Yorke was tuned in to Karen's breathing, and knew that his latest moves were getting to her. His next step would be the tester. He glided his hand from the pure velvet of her inner thigh, so that it trailed through her pubic hair, played there for a few seconds before searching out the beginning of her labia. That set her really panting. Working, Waiting, Wanting Karen knew she could no longer just lie there. She had tried flexing her thigh against his erection, but could not get sufficient space. She needed to favour him. "Move round, Yorke. Turn so I can reach it." Yorke had been aware of Karen's thigh trying to stimulate his erection, and he was ready to succumb to her wishes. He moved his lips from her breast and down over her belly, and as he did that he twisted his own body so that his penis would be within her reach. Her fingers gently encircling it brought a happy grunt from his mouth. His face was directly over her pubic area, and he moved his two hands to part her labia. There was already plenty of moistening taking place down there, and how thrilling it was for him after all this time to gaze into that pink, roseate wonderland. Having Yorke's erect penis before her eyes was a new experience. She had held it in her hand, and it had been inside her, but this was her first viewing. Taking it in her hand, she knew it was invidious to make comparisons but it was pleasing to note that it was bigger than bastard Peter's. Also pleasing was the little grunt that had come from Yorke as she took hold. But what was he intending now. She felt his two hands parting her. He had to be so close to her clitoris. Oh, God, that was his tongue licking at her clit sending radiations of sensation through her whole lower body. An unstoppable squeal burst from her lips. Yorke had only gazed between her labia briefly before he spotted the tiny nub of her clit. He so remembered this moment from the past, and he dipped his tongue into her pink flower to lick that nub. Her squeal and twitch was magic. He licked more thoroughly and felt the tiny nub become erect, while the fingers of one hand explored the wetness around her vaginal opening. Tentatively he inserted one finger, and after their passion in the hall downstairs he found that two fingers had space in there. Then he was jerking with pleasure, as his penis was suddenly enveloped in Karen's mouth. Karen knew that Yorke's action down there was going to send her over the edge fairly quickly. His fingers were inside her, his tongue was ravishing her clit. She was compelled to bring him up to her pace. A little more time teasing his erection would have been good, but she had no hesitation in taking it completely into her mouth, and drawing it back and forth. Her tongue lapped at it on each draw back, and she loved the sense of power it gave her, as his thighs spasmed with each move. Then forward again, until the head caught at the back of her throat. But, oh, his fingers, his tongue. A channel of fire flowed up from her vaginal entry right into her very centre, and everything was beginning to pulse down there. Because Karen's mouth was so well occupied, Yorke could not tune in to any vocal clues of approaching orgasm. So, while his lips, tongue and fingers worked tenderly between her thighs, and his own head was full of the aroma, the creaminess and excitement of her, he made himself aware of her every twitch, every heave of her loins. And there was no doubt that such signs were becoming more and more frequent. When, on a couple of occasions, his fingers strayed from occupying her vaginal opening and wandered out of bounds, to touch the tightness of her anus, there was a definite shudder throughout her loins. It was becoming important, because the increased pace of her mouth working on his penis was building pressure in his scrotum. Time to bring her on for certain. His tongue which had been doing a little random strolling along the length of her crevice, needed to concentrate on her clit. He applied solid licks to that small trigger, before taking it carefully between his lips and gently sucking on it. He was tasting her, smelling her, wanting all of her. Karen was so close. She knew she had to warn him. Working his erection in her mouth was lovely enough, but his fingers, touching her so intimately, were going to drive her mad. It was then that his tongue began, lavishing fiercely on her clit, which was suddenly between his lips---he was sucking it. Exquisite sensations rocked through her body. Desperately she pulled her head back from his penis, and while grabbing it in her hand, gasped breathlessly, "York. Oh, God Yorke, Quick." And her hips, impulsively, pushed up at his face. That was all the encouragement Yorke needed, rising and twisting his body, he turned her so that he was looking down into her reddened face, suffused with passion. Quickly he rolled between her jerking thighs, reached for one of the cushions , and tucked it under her hips. Karen's eager fingers helped him place his iron hard penis into her entrance. Looking into her face, he plunged his full length into her, right to the cervix, he was sure. Apart from the wild passionate contact earlier, he had quite forgotten how comforting, how sensuous, how powerful that first entry could be. For Karen, Yorke's penis pistoning its way deep inside her was sheer rapture. She wanted this sensation to go on and on. As he drew back and thrust again, she knew that the cushion under her was allowing him greater penetration, and she didn't mind that at all. Her vagina was crammed with him. She was a lift shaft, and his erection was some great cylinder that her internal walls could grasp and pull at. Lifting her hips off the cushion she was sure she could urge him deeper. She found his lips hunting hers but she was unable to hold her head still, as she took all of him. His head dropped to her breasts, where his lips grappled with her nipples. Just added ecstasy for her. Then unexpectedly, his penis began to retract, slipping back down to her opening. Surely he hadn't cum? Oh,not yet. Not yet. "No," she growled desperately as she felt him right at the lips again. But just as suddenly his penis plunged into her grateful depths once more. And she knew she was about to orgasm. But she so wanted him with her. She moved every fibre of her being down there, as the fires flared. Yorke had made two major thrusts, had grunted at the way her hips rose to absorb more of him. Trying to kiss her was an impossible task, but when he lowered his mouth to her nipples he knew that this was good for her. Withdrawing as though it was over, he had practiced before, but didn't want to think about that. Not now, not with this wonderful body under him. He was delighted at the cry of despair as she thought he was done. In deep again was like placing his penis along an avenue of hungry little mouths, as her hips heaved into him. He sensed her increasing excitation and had no doubt that he was close. Yorke raised his body over her so that each stroke of his penis managed to caress her clit. Faster and faster he pushed, and for every stroke he made, she responded equally. His time was now. Karen was totally lost in the wonder of their mutual heaving and grunting. Madly, wildly, her senses all askew, she retained sufficient awareness to know that they were in the midst of a joint orgasm. He, pumping his fluid into her, she taking it all, her insides squeezing every drop from him, as though there would be no end. Her head tossing, but not her head, her face perspiring, but not her face, her body afloat, but not her body, as they all belonged completely to him.. Cumming for a second time in just a couple of hours, was no less frantic for Yorke. Those final thrusts had taken his head above hers, as his emptying into her had him moaning like a dying man. But it had been a bonus to hear Karen's gasps, with a final broken, angry seagull sound, that just filled him with extra joy. They lay side by side, absolutely still for a few minutes, regaining some measure of composure. At last, she murmured, "Hell, Yorke, I've never known---" Yorke leaned over her, and placed a finger to her lips, "Ssh,Karen, no comparisons---This was totally ours." "I'm so glad you think that." He kissed her warm lips gently, and said, "From saving the school, to reawakening my life. I trust you're proud of yourself." She half sat up and her eyes were looking at him frankly, from a face still showing the glow of their love-making. "I'll only be proud if I've reawakened your life to be my own personal property." Yorke gazed into those honest, pale blue eyes, as he assimilated the implications of what she had just said. "You really mean that?" Karen told him of the love that was blazing in her heart, and she kissed him tenderly. As she broke away Yorke whispered, "Then I'm trapped." Their lips came together once more, and it was good.