11 comments/ 14735 views/ 12 favorites Plain Jayne By: demure101 Carl Joliet had been an avid film buff. It might have been one of the reasons he'd courted and married Jenny James: though she was a simple girl from a simple family she'd reminded him of Jayne Mansfield, and that, some people thought, was reason enough for him. They had been quite happy together, and in the fifth year of their marriage Jenny had given birth to a daughter. Carl had insisted she be called Jayne. Jenny never knew why, but she thought it sounded nice, so Jayne it was. When she was born she was completely bald, thin and a little tall for a newborn child. She had big eyes and a pronounced squint. But she was a friendly baby who hardly ever cried and Carl and Jenny were very happy with her. Jayne turned out to be quite a precocious child. She walked when she was ten months old and she started to talk before she was one. She grew a shock of tawny hair; unlike in most children her squint didn't disappear. When she was almost four she taught herself to read, and at primary school she went through the curriculum much faster than her classmates. They thought Jayne was a freak. She didn't enjoy PE, her hobbies were too difficult by far, she liked books and had a lively imagination her classmates couldn't follow. The Joliets had an unfortunate taste in glasses, Jayne had freckles and it wasn't long before she was generally known as Plain Jayne. And you didn't play with Plain Jayne, you just called her names. Jayne noticed, and it hurt. There wasn't anything she could do about it, and she retired within herself, and so developed an imagination that was often somewhat quirky, especially in the field of contacts with others. Secondary school wasn't any better. She grew into an awkward, gangly girl with a tendency to drop or upset things, and her teeth were irregular. The fact that she excelled at school didn't make things any better. Although her classmates would have categorically denied the accusation, they were jealous of her achievements, and took it out on her appearance. The "Plain Jayne, Plain Jayne has goofed again" chorus that had plagued her primary school time was taken up again by her secondary school peers. Billy James, a complete dullard, was the worst. He found a satisfying compensation for his intellectual inabilities in making others suffer, and Jayne was an easy victim. One of the teachers, who'd heard the choruses, tried to help her by letting her give the right answers whenever her classmates failed; this was only adding insult to injury for the others. Jayne understood he tried to help her, but she knew it would never do. PE was torture, especially whenever there was a game in which they had to choose sides. Jayne invariably ended up being chosen last. The PE teacher thought it was her own fault - she wasn't competitive and she didn't show enough enthusiasm for his subject. He actually took over the Plain Jayne moniker; Jayne despised him for it, and it showed. Consequently she never managed to get a sufficient mark for sports. Her arts master was the only one who made her feel at home a little. He was a competent teacher who loved his subject and Jayne was quick on the uptake. He sensed it wouldn't do to make her stand more apart, so he never acknowledged her talents publicly, but he stapled special assignments to the work he returned to her, with written instructions and carefully worded assessments. He taught her a lot and really helped her develop her talents. It was with great relief that she left school with an impressive set of A-levels. She knew she could easily have tried for Oxbridge, but she just went to one of the less prestigious universities and completed her studies in record time at high academic excellence. Then she found herself a job. Life was lonely. Her parents died with a few years between them, and as she had always kept away from her peers she hardly had any social contacts at all, bar those that went with her job. Sometimes someone invited her to a birthday party out of pity for that awkward woman, and she always went, but she generally stayed on the periphery, exchanging a few words with whoever cared to talk to her for a moment; and whenever she found that the party was also visited by any of her former classmates she'd leave early. She had found herself a nice apartment in a quiet road near the station; it was roomy and there was quite enough space for her books and records, and a drawing table in a spare room. She loved cooking, and she wrote stories to fill the long hours free from work. She loved reading and often wondered what it would be like to make friends, but she'd learnt to mistrust people and contacts came hard. Then some day there was a new woman at the office, who was a little reserved, and who sensed a kindred spirit in Jayne. May was one of those people who simply didn't care for appearances, and she started talking to Jayne in a way she'd not known till then, naturally and unprejudiced, and it wasn't long before the two women had struck up a real friendship. When May got to know other people she noticed some of them felt some antagonism toward Jayne. One or two people actually asked her what she saw in Plain Jayne -- but she flatly told them off and after the first few no one tried again. Jayne loved her company, and May opened her eyes to all sorts of things she'd not experienced before. Carl and Jenny had raised her to enjoy classical music; May introduced her to punk and rock, and Jayne went on from there to develop an eclectic taste in popular music, ranging from scratchy torch singers to John Coltrane, and from Joni Mitchell to African pop. May also took her out to the pub, and they went dancing once or twice. That, though, wasn't really a great success. It did two things for Jayne: it showed her dancing and touching someone were nice and it also showed her she wasn't too enthusiastically accepted as a dancing partner. She'd grown morbidly sensitive to other people's reactions, and she felt each rejection keenly. May noticed this only too well. She tried to have other people around sometimes when Jayne came to visit her, and to coax Jayne into interacting with others, but progress, if any, was very slow. Then one afternoon while they were at May's place she got a visit from an old classmate of hers who'd had a crush on her in the past. They had dated a couple of times and found out they liked each other as friends but as nothing more. Since then George came to see her at irregular times. He had been one of her class's handsome boys, and he'd developed into a quiet, handsome man, who wrote articles for a magazine and designed websites for a couple of small companies. At school he had kept his own counsel, and he'd never participated in the pranks some of the less mature boys went in for. May really liked him. She introduced him to Jayne, and he sat down with them. May asked him about his work He told them something about the magazine he wrote for. Jayne listened with great interest. She hoped she could some time show a couple of her stories to him - perhaps she could even get one of them published. But she'd never ask him; there was the rub. Then May butted in and told George about Jayne's stories, and he asked her a couple of things about them. She found it quite easy to respond to his questions, and they eventually decided she'd bring a couple when she visited May next. He'd collect them there and let her know if he thought they were good enough. George quietly watched Jayne while they were talking. He liked her mouth, and he sensed her mind worked along lines similar to his own. Through the thick glasses he could see a couple of very nice, green eyes. He thought she seemed a little uncertain of herself; she moved a little awkwardly, but he liked her figure -- reasonably tall, medium-sized breasts, and no signs of anorexia or enthusiasm for catwalk models. Best of all, he thought, she has a nice voice. Hmm. Two days later George popped in again. May was always happy to have him around, and she made them some coffee before settling down on the couch. She drew her legs up under her and smiled at George, who sat across the room from her. "Jayne hasn't yet been in, so I don't have her stuff for you yet," she said. "I've read a few of her stories, and I think they're good." "She's very nice, isn't she? I never heard you about her. How do you know her?" "Oh, I know her from work. She is nice. She's very shy, though, much more than I, and I think she has no trust in people, really. They seem to call her Plain Jayne." "Plain Jayne? Oh, people are horrible! I think she looks nice. Did you notice her eyes? And she seems very intelligent." "Oh, she is. She's very quick in understanding things; she just doesn't seem to understand the way people interact. But she really is a good friend, and I do like being with her." May was silent for a moment. George was the first person she knew to say something positive about Jayne. "Lots of people seem to have to make snide remarks about her," she said. "What made you think she's clever?" "I don't know. Hmm. For one thing, she didn't simply drool when she heard about my work, and she didn't immediately tell me she writes, too, and could I please tell her what I think about it? And she enunciates well, and her questions are intelligent. And so is her face, whatever those nasties say. Does she have a boyfriend?" "You mean do you stand a chance?" George blushed. "No, of course not," he said. May didn't believe him for a moment. She'd known him too long, and his blush spoke volumes to her. "I don't think she has any friend at all," she said, "except me. She was bullied no end, I'm afraid, and it takes no genius to dream up plain Jayne. She's been told she is so often she really thinks she is, and no one would want her in a fashion magazine." "No," George said heatedly, "They wouldn't. Of course not. They never want faces with individuality in fashion magazines. They just want dolls. They all look the same and act the same. They think the same, too, I shouldn't wonder. That's why I don't read those bloody rags and why I like you. And Jayne has a real face, not a mask." May smiled a little grimly. "You know I don't think there's anything wrong with her. But when you hear you're ugly every day -- and that's what she did all her school days -- it doesn't really help your confidence too much. She told me there even was a teacher who called her plain Jayne in class." "Really? For crying out loud. Poor girl. Do you think she would let me take her out some time?" "Not if you do so out of pity -- she's very sensitive to that. And I have no idea if she'll let you otherwise. I think you'd better get to know her some more first." George nodded. He cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I came over more often? I'd really like to get to know her, you know." "I'd guessed as much, my boy. You're welcome. I'd hate seeing her end up as an old disappointed spinster." George blushed again. "I don't have any designs on her," he complained. "Then you'd better get them pretty fast," May said. "Honourable ones, please." George grinned. "Am I that transparent?" "George, I've known you too long to be taken in. Besides, the gentleman protests too much." "Yes, you're right," he said. "I think she's really nice." Jayne went through her stories. She thought most of them had obvious weak points but there were two that could stand her own critical inspection. She printed them and went through them with a pencil to take out one or two stylistic flaws and changed a word here and there. Then she printed and reread them again, and felt they would have to do. She put them in a folder and stuck the lot in her bag to hand them to May. When George came around again May had the stories on her table. "Jayne's stories are here," she said. "I've read them, and I think you'll like them. They're great." "I hope so," he said, and reached for them. "Do you mind?" "No, go ahead. Coffee?" George sat down to read Jayne's stuff. To his delight Jayne's English was flawless. There weren't any of the usual mistakes, her sentences had a natural flow to them and she left out anything the reader could fill in for himself. He was used to reading other people's work, and he always read things with a mental red pencil. Jayne's stories didn't need any. There were one or two things he'd have put differently, but he was fair enough to see her way was quite as valid as his own. On second thoughts, he wasn't even sure if her way of putting it wasn't actually more so. He was so immersed in it that he didn't register that May had put the coffee on the table. "Wonderful," he said when he'd finished reading. "You were quite right. They're great." "Good. Do you think you could use them?" "Oh, I'll give them to our editor tomorrow. He usually listens to me," George said with a grin. "He'd better. So, how is Jayne?" "As well as usual. Quiet. She promised to come around later this afternoon." "Could you tell me some more about her? You're her only friend -- what about her relatives?" May filled him in on Jayne's history. George sat listening and shaking his head. "Phew," he said. "It won't be easy to get her to trust me, I suppose. But I'm definitely going to make an effort -- and I can wait. She seems worth waiting for." "You were always Mr Handsome," May said. "People may laugh at you behind your back, or even to your face." "They can bloody laugh as they please, for all I care," he said. "I can't help my face; I didn't ask for it. I've always thought that nickname was silly. As if being handsome counts." "But it does. You know so well enough. And Jayne -" "Jayne isn't ugly at all. Perhaps she should have someone tell her to choose her glasses differently, but that's about it. She has personality, and a nice voice -- did anyone ever tell her that? And her eyes are nice, glasses and all, and perhaps she wouldn't make it to a girlie magazine, but she has a good figure. And I think the way she moves only adds to her charm. Besides, I expect she could teach me a thing or two about my own job." "You wouldn't mind? Oh, I expect not. You never were too competitive." "I usually feel things aren't worth competing for. Winning? Bah. I would mind being beaten to my own game by someone I do not respect, but that's about it. Most people can run much faster than I, jump higher, kick a ball harder -- some accomplishment." May smiled. She really liked George. He used to be quite different from the other boys in school, and he was different from most of her male contacts. "Well, Jayne's surely got herself a champion," she said. "Not before time either. Does she ever laugh?" George answered grimly. When Jayne came by they had finished talking about her. George had gone through her stories with a mental fine comb once again and decided they could be used the way they were, without any alterations. Jayne greeted May warmly, and said hello to George. She'd given him some thought at home, and decided he seemed intelligent. He looked at her in a way she couldn't place, but it was not the way she was accustomed to. Most men who looked at her just looked away again immediately, indicating she was a nonentity for them; her classmates had always treated her with a kind of sneering revulsion. George shook her hand, and held it just long enough to press it ever so lightly. He smiled at her. She tentatively returned his smile. It was the first time George had seen her smile, and the way her face changed and her eyes lit up made him feel very happy. Plain Jayne indeed, he thought. He told her he'd read her stories, and told her he thought they were excellent. He refrained from lavishing too much praise on them; if her mind worked along the same lines as his own it would certainly be embarrassing to be put in the limelight too much. "I can take them to my editor?" he said. Jayne nodded. "Do you think he'll see something in them?" she asked. "Oh yes, I expect so. He loves good English as much as I do." Jayne blushed. She was quite unused to being praised, and since she was very tuned to people's sincerity she sensed his praise was real. "Thank you," she said. George asked her about her hobbies and she told him she liked drawing, reading and writing, and that she loved listening to music. No, she didn't sing or play an instrument. She told him a little about her taste in music and George thought he recognised May's hand in it. After some more time George had to go. He took his leave and May saw him to the door. "Did you see how she looks when she smiles?" he asked on parting. "And I love it when she blushes. Beautiful!" He kissed May on the cheek and walked off. When May came back in the room she saw Jayne standing at the window, looking at George's disappearing form. "He's different, isn't he?" she asked. Jayne turned around. "Do you think he likes me?" May grinned. "I would say that's obvious." "Oh," Jayne said, as she went back to her chair and sat down. "Is it? I couldn't say." "Oh, you'll learn," May said. "Do you like him?" "I think so," Jayne said. "He doesn't look at me the way the others do, and he doesn't brag about things. Have you known him long?" "For ages. He used to be my boyfriend," May said. "We slept together a couple of times. We were never completely easy together - always a little restless - and so we called it a day. But I still like him very much. He doesn't brag, no -- he'd feel stupid if he did." "That's how I would feel. Is he good?" "As a writer, you mean? Oh yes, he is. And I've seen a couple of his websites, and they're brilliant. But he is always modest about them. He's disinclined to worry about anything he thinks unimportant, I think -- not as a kind of mental laziness, but more er -- well, because he wants to get his priorities right. I saw him angry only once." "Yes. Yes, that's good. He seems really nice." May recognised Jayne's statement for the praise it was. "We could go out together some time," she suggested. "Yes, that would be nice. Do you think he'll want to come?" May grinned. "If he doesn't I'll make him," she said. "No, nonsense. He certainly will, you can bank on that." They cooked together, and went to a concert that evening. It was good, but a little short -- barely one hour -- and they went their various ways afterwards. May immediately picked up the phone when she'd come home and called George to tell him Jayne had agreed to their going out together. "Oh wow! That's splendid. When shall we go?" "We haven't arranged things yet. Any preference?" "Tonight? Tomorrow? Doesn't matter, any time she likes. I'll be there." "You'd better be, or else. Oh, you know, she likes you, too. But do go slowly with her, won't you?" "You don't take me for an idiot, do you? I don't want to wreck things, have no fear." "No. But you're an unknown sort of person for her, you know." "I guessed as much. But thank you very much. Keep me informed!" "I certainly will. Be good." When Jayne came home she sat down and took up the prints she'd made of her stories -- but she had no head for reading them. She put them down again and sat thinking about the things she'd heard that day. May had ended her relationship with George because she'd felt restless... She didn't think she'd feel restless with him. Actually he was the first person apart from her parents and May she did not feel restless with, or unwanted. If only she could have a friend like May had had... She was twenty-seven now. She'd not even kissed anyone yet, let alone slept with them. The need to feel loved that she'd put away in the farthest recesses of her mind came back to her with a vengeance. Her mother had been the last person to cuddle her, and that had been how long ago? Twenty years? Longer? She didn't know. She couldn't even remember what it had felt like. Her constant defiance of the world at large suddenly seemed too heavy a burden. Plain Jayne She turned on the radio. The first song she heard was Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" which was bad enough; and when a couple of tracks later they played R.E.M. -- "Everybody Hurts" -- it was too much. She turned off the radio, went to bed and cried herself to sleep. To her surprise she woke up refreshed. The sad mood of the night before had lifted, and her first thoughts were about May's plan to have a night on the town together. She breakfasted pondering the idea and at work she was greeted by May with the good news that George had jumped to the idea. So when did Jayne think they should go? May made the arrangements; they were to meet at May's place that Friday night and they'd visit May's favourite discotheque. The only one who really looked forward to it without a slightly uneasy feeling in her stomach was May; the others both felt somewhat nervous to say the least. George had dropped in on May to unburden his mind and May had tried to make him feel at ease; she almost succeeded. Jayne bottled everything up, as was her wont, and she went through the rest of the week in a mixture of expectation and apprehension, with apprehension coming first, most of the time. But she was rational enough to tell herself nothing much could happen; she might only be disappointed once more. When Friday night came round they duly assembled at May's place. George was at least thirty minutes early. He looked immaculate in a new shirt and jacket and he had even polished his shoes, which May knew he hated. Jayne was right on time. She had done her best to dress for the occasion. It was not how May would have dressed, but it did suit her somehow. May was amused to see she'd even tried to put on some make-up; but she took her along to the bathroom and corrected her effort. "Oh, I am clumsy, aren't I?" Jayne said. "No, you're just not too experienced. I simply want you to look really nice. Can you turn a little to the right, please? That's better, thank you." When May had finished Jayne looked at herself in the mirror. "Yes," she said. "This is better. Thank you very much." The girls went back to the living room. "Anyone for some coffee first?" May said. "Not for me," George said, and Jayne shook her head. "Alright then. Let's go." The discotheque was getting fairly busy when they arrived. They left their coats at the cloakroom and went in. George ordered drinks and they stood together looking at the dancers while they talked and finished their drinks. Then May saw someone she knew and went on to the dance floor. George smiled at Jayne. "Come," he said. "Shall we?" "Yes please," Jayne said. George took her hands in his and led her onto the floor. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and she held hers around his waist, a little awkward at first -- but when she didn't feel the unwillingness in him she'd experienced when she'd been out on the floor before she let herself be taken by the movements and the rhythm and allowed herself to enjoy the moment. George felt over the moon. He loved the feeling of her body in his arms, of her breasts against his chest and the smell of her hair, and he looked into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back at him, a little less uncertain of herself than a week before. She let herself be led by him, and she caught May's gaze for a moment. May gave her a wide smile and nodded at her. Jayne closed her eyes, and tried to drink in the feeling of being in the arms of this man who seemed to accept her completely and who seemed to want her in his arms. She felt painfully happy, and rested her head on his shoulder, and she felt his face on hers. After a couple of dances they went off the dance floor for another drink and some more talk, and George put an arm round her shoulder. Jayne looked at his face. He was looking at the dancers, and he looked very happy. He sensed she was looking at him and he looked her way, and when their eyes met he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He moved his face a little closer to hers, and on an impulse she offered him her lips. George kissed her; to his surprise it made him tremble. He touched her lips with his tongue, and Jayne responded the way he'd hoped. Then a jeering sing-song voice said, "Now isn't that something? Mr Handsome and plain Jane! Plain Jayne, Plain Jayne has goofed again! Plain Jayne, Plain Jayne -" Billy James had got to know George vaguely from his nights out. He had always seemed a mild and self-effacing person, and Billy expected he'd retreat once again, so it took him quite by surprise when George wheeled round and took hold of his collar. "You miserable idiot. If you don't want your teeth knocked in you'd better get out of here fast. And I mean fast." He spat his words at him from between clenched teeth. Billy had seldom seen anyone so angry. George was so threatening it made him cringe, and he began to whine. "Don't you touch me! I will get the bouncer to throw you out!" Then he retched. George let go of him, gave him a push and turned round. Jayne looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and George's heart sank. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I will not have anyone insult you. The fool, the great big fool." Jayne put a hand on his arm. "Please," she said. "Let's go home." George put his hand on Jayne's and looked around. Billy was consorted out of the place by a tall man who grinned at George and put up his thumb. "If you really want to leave I'll come with you, and we'll have to find May," he said. "But that silly fool will not trouble us any more, and I would love to dance with you again." He put an arm round his shoulder. Jayne trembled. She'd been so happy -- and then the jeering had undone all that. George had championed her -- and he had been very angry. Maybe it helped -- but she'd always been unable to put up a fight. She wanted to flee and she wanted to dance with him again and -- Then she put both arms around him and cried. George stroked her hair and pressed her close. May materialised and asked him what had happened and he briefly explained. She walked over to a member of the staff to be told they'd thrown Billy out. He'd been a nuisance for quite some time, and they knew George for what he was, someone who'd never do anything. They'd figured that he must have been utterly provoked indeed. "He was," May said. "Thank you for solving things this way." She went back to Jayne and George. Jayne had stopped crying and she was just blowing her nose. Her eye make-up had got a little smeared, and she looked a bit puffy, but May saw with delight that she was looking at George with a smile, albeit a somewhat tearful one. Then George bent down and kissed her mouth. Good, May thought. "Jayne, come along. I'll have to do restore your make-up a little," she said. Jayne smiled at George again, and then she let herself be led to the ladies. May made her wash her face and then she made her up again. "You said George was never angry," Jayne said. "So that means that he finds me worth worrying over?" "Yes he does, and yes, you are. And don't you forget it!" They went back to George and they danced some more. Jayne really like dancing with George, but the incident had noticeably dampened her mood, and after some time they called it a day. The pavements were deserted, so they walked home three abreast, with George in the middle. Jayne kept looking at him whenever she could. After some time she sought his hand with hers. He felt her reaching for him and took her hand and softly squeezed it for a moment. They continued the rest of their walk hand in hand. Jayne lived nearest to the discotheque, so they dropped her off first. Just before she went in she turned around and quickly kissed George. Then she disappeared inside. "Blast," George said, and then he embarked on a tirade about the way people treated Jayne. May let him blow off steam, and the she said, "You did make a hit with her, though." "Did I?" "Yes. She noticed you find her important enough to make a fuss about." "But that -- I mean, anyone would. The puerile imbecile! Jayne's simply twelve echelons above him." "That's what you think. And I couldn't agree more. But for her it's completely new." George thought about it for a moment. "Yes. Poor girl," he said. Billy James, who for all his bullying was a coward at heart, had given his comrades a higly embellished version of what had happened. He'd been beaten within an inch of his life, and George -- man, you wouldn't half want to meet him alone at night. The result, contrary to Billy's hopes, was that the rest decided to leave George be - and his ugly slut as well. Halfway the next week George rang the bell at Jayne's place. He hoped she'd be in, and to his relief she was. She opened the door and her face that had been a little pinched when he saw her through the door broke into a wide smile when she saw him. "Hi George," she said. "Please do come in!" George put his coat in the hall and went with her into the living room. "I've just made some tea," she said. "Would you like some?" George nodded, and she went to the kitchen top get another cup. She'd remembered from their encounters at May's that he didn't take sugar. George looked around. There were a few unusual drawings on the wall, and a couple of traditional paintings, and the place was riddled with books. Most of them looked decidedly read. "Listen," Jayne said. "We were talking music at May's -- do you know this?" She pressed a button on the remote and a tinkling, high guitar filled the room, with a bouncy rhythm behind it. Then a man's voice with a couple of background singers filled out the sound. George thought he recognised Kanda Bongo Man, and said so. "Yes," Jayne said. "I've just got it today; I bought it online. It's nice, isn't it?" "Yes," George said. "I do like soukous." He smiled at Jayne, and they listened to the CD together. Then George opened his bag and took out a couple of papers. "Er," he began, "I gave your stories to the editor and they've been accepted. So I brought you some papers to sign." He explained the ins and outs to her, and they discussed what she'd better do, and what not, and then she signed. He gave her one copy and put the other back into his bag. "You know," he said, "there will be a concert by Oliver Mutukudzi this Friday night. He's from Zimbabwe and he is really good. Would you care to come?" "Is it like this?" she asked. "Well, in a way -- but the guitars are different, and the choruses -- there is quite a distance between Congo and Zimbabwe." "Oh," she said. "Can I? I'd love to. I never heard an African band play live." "Good. I'll get the tickets, and I'll collect you on Friday." George left and Jayne went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. While the water was getting on the boil she called May, and told her. "Look," she said, "I'd like to wear something nice. Could you help me go shopping tomorrow? I'm never too certain of what to buy." "Love to," May said, and she meant it. "I'll turn you into a fashion queen!" Jayne started to protest that that wasn't what she wanted, and then she realised May was joking. "We will get you nicely dressed, though," May said. The girls had a lot of fun the next afternoon. May had a good eye for clothes and she made sure that they suited Jayne's complexion and hair colour. Afterwards they shared a meal at Jayne's place, and Jayne played her new CD once again. "I hope tomorrow's concert will be as nice," she said. George picked her up about an hour early. Jayne wore her new dress and George complimented her on it -- he thought she looked smashing. Jayne loved it; she beamed at him and gave him a shy peck on the mouth. They went to the venue early; George wanted to stand close to the stage, to be able to see the artists well. There were a lot of different people there; about half the audience was African. Jayne said, "I never knew there were so many Africans in town." "I think most of them don't live here," George said. "Mutukudzi used to be one of the top three artists in Zimbabwe -- he probably still is." One tall African spotted George and came up to him. "Hi five!" he said and greeted George enthusiastically. George introduced Rigo to Jayne. They shook hands and Rigo gave Jayne a brilliant smile. "You like Mutukudzi?" he asked. "I don't know him yet." "Oh, then you're in for a treat, just you wait," Rigo said. Then he walked off. They waited for some time while the roadies finished laying cables and testing mikes, and then a man with a colourful hat and an acoustic guitar came on stage. He grinned at the audience and started to play, to be followed by his band members who came on stage after him. Jayne was mesmerised by his voice. The music had a different rhythm from her own CDs; it had a special lilt to it and almost immediately the audience stood swaying to the music, and lots of people began crowding the area in front of the stage. George put his hands round Jayne's waist and stood behind her. She found it impossible to stand still, and she moved to the music with her shoulders leaning against George's chest, smiling at the people on stage, mainly looking at that wonderful singer. George divided his attention between Mutukudzi, his two attractive backing singers and the most important person present, who was standing right in front of him. He nuzzled her hair and she look round at him for a moment and smiled. She put her hands on George's and decided that this was utter bliss, and she closed her eyes for some time to take everything in even better. Mutukudzi played for about ninety minutes. Then the band stopped. They were given such an enormously enthusiastic applause that they broke into a few more songs. Jayne leant into George again and to her own surprise she lifted George's hands to rest on her breasts. Blushing furiously she looked round to see if he minded but he smiled at her as if he liked it, so she kept him there. It made her feel hot all over, but it was nice. George loved it. He could feel her nipples against the palms of his hands, and he revelled in the feel of her body against his, soft and entirely at ease. The encore was over far too soon to their liking. The singer announced they'd play an old song, "Pindurai Mambo," to finish the concert and after six minutes or so the instruments stopped and the singers sang the chorus a cappella, the final "Mamboooo" ringing in their ears. "Fantastic," she said when they had left the venue with the CD they'd bought in the pocket of George's jacket. "Yes," George said. "He is wonderful, isn't he? Care to have a drink?" They went to a small pub in a back street that had a couple of wooden benches outside and sat drinking and talking in the warm night air. George kept looking at this wonderful woman who apparently liked him as much as he liked her. He loved her smile, and he wondered why on earth her parents had never let her have a brace -- it would have spared her a lot of misery, he thought. He didn't mind. He never cared for too regular faces, and he absolutely despised people who gave themselves airs because of their looks. Jayne, he thought, was the genuine thing. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't hear her question at first, and she had to repeat it. "Would you like to come to dinner on Sunday?" "Yes of course. I'd love to!" "Good," she said. "Shall I come round a bout five? Then I can help you cook." "You're welcome at five, but you don't have to help. I'll manage." When the pub closed George walked her home. He gave her the CD, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him hard. Then she released him and said, "George, this was wonderful. I am so happy when we're together -- it almost hurts." She gave him another short kiss and he saw there were tears in her eyes. Then she smiled at him, said goodnight and went in. That Saturday morning Jayne went to May. They had a long talk about men, and George, and Jayne, who had never spoken about such things with her parents, let alone with anyone else, asked her a lot of things she wanted to know. She wanted to make love with George but she was afraid to make mistakes, and it took May quite some reassuring to make Jayne realise that in love there are no such things. "George doesn't make any overtures, though," she said. "He's probably afraid to scare you off. I think he'd love to sleep with you as much as you would. He always was very gentle, and er -- I think he's waiting for the right moment." "Do you think he'd mind if I took the first step?" "Not he. I think he'll be delighted." Jayne nodded. "Do you think I'd better buy new underwear?" "George doesn't care," May said. "He will appreciate it, I suppose. But if it makes you feel less insecure I'd certainly do so. Do you want me to come along?" "Yes please. He really likes me, don't you think so?" "I know he does. He told me. He thinks you're beautiful. He actually came back two days after you'd first met to find out if he might stand a chance with you!" Jayne's face slowly turned into the happiest smile May had seen on her yet. "Oh," she said, "do you think he might want to stay with me?" "Yes. All the symptoms are there, and he is not the kind of person to go in for half-baked relationships." "You won't tell him we talked about this, will you?" "Jayne! What do you take me for?" They went shopping again. May made her buy something that was rather more daring than she'd have bought herself though much less so than May would have chosen. They made a nice afternoon of it, ending up in a tea shop for some tea and cakes, talking and giggling. When they eventually parted May wished Jayne luck. "You will be alright," she said. At first Jayne couldn't sleep. She kept tossing and turning and worrying if she could do things correctly, and if George would want to and if... Then she dropped off. She woke up early and gave her apartment a critical eye, but it seemed alright. She carefully made her bed, and went through everything twice. Then she sat down, had some coffee and laughed at herself. As if George would care. Still, she wanted everything to be perfect. That afternoon she prepared an oven dish that could take care of itself once she'd stuck it into the pre-heated oven, a leek flan with Edam and ham that was filling without being too heavy. She laid the table and opened a bottle of wine she'd bought to breathe, and then she put Mutukudzi into the CD player, sat back and closed her eyes. One more hour until five o'clock. George had made a copy of one of his own favourite bands for her and he rang the bell at a little to five. She opened the door and he took her hands and kissed her. "Hello beautiful," he said. "Thank you I could come." They went in and he gave her the CD. "One moment," Jayne said. "I'll have to stick the food into the oven." Then she came back with the wine and poured them some. George stood looking at one of the pictures on the wall. "Who made this?" he said. "I could use something like this for a client who wants a special site." "They're mine," Jayne said. "Wow! Really. Would you like working with me? It would please him no end!" Jayne nodded. "I think so," she said. "But it depends on who he is and on how many compromises I'd have to make." "Fair enough. I wouldn't want to make any at all." "Maybe we could meet together." She handed him his glass. "Cheers!" she said. George sat down with his drink and looked around the room again. You could see the owner was female, but the room was not overtly feminine; Jayne didn't go for pink upholstery and the few decorative things she had were well-designed pieces of art. He quite enjoyed sitting there. Plain Jayne "You have a lovely place here," he said. "Next time I'd like you to see mine; I'd appreciate to hear what you think of it." "Gladly. I keep thinking of the concert. I can see why he is popular -- even when you don't understand the lyrics." "Yes. Good music speaks to you regardless. I will remember our having been there for a long, long time!" Jayne blushed a little. The memory was certainly pleasurable; she'd loved feeling him touch her, and she still had the music in her head. When the food was ready they sat down at the table and Jayne cut the flan for them. George, who was usually rather indifferent to food, loved the smell it emanated. "Hmm, it makes my mouth water," he said. "I hope you'll like it," Jayne said and raised her glass. He certainly did, and when they had completed their meal with some ice cream they washed up and went back to the living room. George started to tell her something about an article he'd read that touched upon their mutual interest in writing and then he noticed Jayne didn't seem to hear. She sat looking at her hands and then she hawked and said, "I er -- can I ask you something?" George sat still and nodded. "Will you -- would you , er -- I loved feeling you touch me, er, and I keep looking forward to seeing you, and -" She was so nervous that she hardly dared say what she felt. Then she decided to take the plunge. "I think I love you, and I would like to be with you permanently, and I would like you to make love to me. Will you?" Her words came so fast they took a little while to register. Jayne anxiously looked at his face. Would he laugh at her after all? He didn't, he looked at her the way he'd often done before, the way she really liked, and he beamed at her. "I'd love nothing better," he said. "And I really admire you for making the first move. I er -- I'm afraid I fell in love with you straight away. May saw through me at once -- oh well, she does know me. You don't know how glad I was when you put my hands on your breasts." Jayne smiled. "I don't know what came over me," she said. "It just happened. But it was nice. Would you like to touch me again?" She got up and went to him, and she put her arms around him. He got up as well, and she took his hands and put them over her breasts, under her blouse, and held them tight while she sought his mouth. They stood together in the realisation they'd crossed an important line, immersed in each other. Then she said, "Please, make love to me. You'll have to teach me how..." George let go of her breasts and she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a big bed, a small wardrobe and a chair for her clothes. George noticed there was no mirror. I hope she'll get more confident about that too, he thought. "May I watch you undress?" he asked. Jayne nodded. She felt very tense; what if he'd dislike her body? But she saw to her great relief that he kept looking at her as if she were the most beautiful girl in the world as she carefully undressed and put each item on the chair. She had bought a set of white undies that was a little transparent and had a lot of lace, and George felt himself go half hard at the sight. When she was completely naked she looked at George intently. "You're as beautiful as I could ever wish," he said thickly, and then he undressed, too. Jayne looked at him naked. She'd never seen a naked man before, and she took him in eagerly - the shape of his chest, his belly, the hair over his sex, his half-hard penis hanging down over his balls. Then he opened his arms and she crossed the small piece of floor and stepped into them. He just held her close for some time and she tried to get accustomed to the feeling of being naked together and having someone cuddle her who liked her unequivocally. Then he smiled at her and took off her glasses. He folded them and put them on the bedside table, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her while he looked into her eyes. When she felt comfortable with the situation he led her to the bed by her hand and sat down on it. "I'd like to touch you all over," he said, "and I'd love it if you touch me." She sat down next to him and put out a hesitant hand. "I can touch anything?" she said. "Anything," George said. He bent over to kiss her, put a hand on her behind and softly massaged it. Jayne passed a hand along his chest. "Your nipples are much smaller than mine," she said. "And not half as beautiful," he answered. "Hmm. But I like touching them." She experimentally pinched his left nipple. "Ouch!", he said. "Oh, I am sorry," she said, but she smiled sweetly. Then she slowly moved down to his navel and then through the path of hairs to his crotch, while she kissed him intently. George moves a hand to her breasts. He stroked the soft underside, and then he went upwards to her nipple, and rolled it between his fingers. It became taut straight away, and he moved to the other breast for the same treatment. Jayne touched his cock. She wrapped her hand around it and lifted it, and to her surprise it seemed to move in her hand a little as it grew to its full size. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to, er -" He stopped touching her nipples and took her face in his hands. "My lovely," he said, "You should never be sorry for anything we do together. I loved your touch, and I hope you did, and whatever you do is wholly right. Always." He kissed her and smiled at her. Then he ran his hand down to her pussy. He cupped it with his fingers and slowly moved them back and forth, and Jayne felt her vagina going wet. Her pussy lips were swelling, and she enjoyed the feeling of his hand on her. It was decidedly better than touching yourself. When he slipped a finger into her she sighed deeply. She'd felt a little jealous when May had told her she'd slept with George -- not because of George but because it was an experience she'd never had -- and now it seemed about to happen to her, and with the one she loved, too. She touched his cock again and felt for his balls. They seemed to be loose in their skin, and she liked the feeling. She wrapped her hand around them. "Please be a little careful with those," George whispered in her ear. She nodded and softly rolled them in their sack. "I'd like to kiss your breasts," George said. Jayne leant back and looked at him while she stuck out her chest. George didn't think it was necessary but he appreciated the gesture. She'll get accustomed to it, he thought. He bent over her body and licked her left nipple. He made circles around it with his tongue and when he had made it wet he took it between his lips. She shuddered. It was a different feeling from what she'd expected, tender and exciting at once, and she put a hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair. He ran his tongue across the valley between her breasts to the other one, and started sucking a bit more insistently. "Oh, that's nice," Jayne whispered. She reached down and took hold of his cock again. She just held it and enjoyed the sensations in her breasts -- his tongue on one and his hand on the other. Then she moved her fingers a little and found it seemed to make him suck more eagerly. She smiled. So that was the way it worked. George found her pussy again with his free hand, and he parted her labia. He slipped in a finger again and moved it up and down, stroking the smooth inside of her pussy. It made her shiver with delighted anticipation. "Come," she whispered. "Can we make love now?" George stopped his activities and kissed her mouth. "It may hurt at first, you know," he said. "That's ok. There will be a next time, won't there? And then it won't hurt anymore. But I just want us to be physically close, and we couldn't get any closer than that. Please -- I want you so much." George sensed she was almost crying and he understood how important it was for her. He asked her to lie down on the bed, and he knelt between her legs. He briefly stroked her pussy, and used some of her juices to slicken his cock. Then he said, "Won't you guide me in?" Jayne reached for him and pulled him towards her opening. He felt the tip of his cock press against her and softly put some weight behind it. He sank in slowly, waiting for the moment he'd touch her hymen. When he pressed against it he said, "Are you ready?" She bit her lip and nodded. He moved back a little and then he pressed home. "Ouch," Jayne said, and she turned white. George stopped moving and waited until the colour came back to her face. He stroked her hair and whispered sweet nothings to her, and it wasn't too long before she smiled again. He felt her try and feel his cock with the walls of her pussy. "You're in me completely," she whispered wonderingly. "And it doesn't hurt too much anymore. Please show me how to do it!" He raised himself on his arms a little and kissed her mouth, and then he tentatively moved back and forth. When he saw that she didn't wince he went at it a little more insistently, and to his joy she instinctively parried his thrusts. She put her arms around him and pulled him close, and let herself go on the waves of desire that swept over her -- the desire to love and be loved, and the physical needs of her body that had lain dormant for so long. There was a sheen of perspiration on her brow and her breasts, and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in as deep as he would go. "Oh George," she said, "Oh George!" Then she needed all her breath to kiss him and to enjoy making love to the one person in the world she'd ever wanted -- long and hard, until she felt her orgasm wash over her, more insistent than any physical sensation she'd ever held possible. George, who had had a couple of lovers before, knew that this was what he'd always been trying to find -- passion, and peace of mind, and pure joy all rolled into one. "Oh my love," he said, and then he came as well, satisfying both their needs in spurts of joy. They lay together, happy, panting and very satisfied. "Did I do it right?" "You were fantastic," George said. "Did you like it?" "Yes," she said, and she kissed him enthusiastically. "Yes. Just give me a moment -- Then I'd love to do it again!"