The Necklace - The Dusky Club, June 1962 by Linda S Rice (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

her. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, he pulled partially out then slowly pushed in again. She opened her eyes, staring into his, and reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, softly moaning as he repeated his thrust. Wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his back, she urged him on.

But, he needed no urging as he began stroking back and forth inside her in a sensual rhythm. She flung her arms outwards, tilting her hips up to allow him to go deeper. He kissed and suckled her breasts as she clutched the hair on the nape of his neck. She met every one of his thrusts, feeling the spasms of her climax beginning deep inside her. She reached down between them to fondle his balls then screamed out his name as they both reached their peak. He collapsed on top of her, rolled them onto their sides, and smothered her face with soft and feathery kisses.

She ran her fingers through his hair once more as they looked into each other’s eyes, their chests heaving from the exertion of their first intimate encounter. As they began to caress each other once more, James’s manhood sprung back to life, and they enjoyed each other again, this time more slowly. Then, sheer exhaustion overcame them both, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

They slept and made love several times more through the late afternoon and night. Buttons paid little attention from her perch on the window sill.

Susan’s hormones sighed contentedly.

It was 10:00 in the morning on the ship when Lynn woke up. Even that was early for her, but she felt as if something was nudging at her brain and telling her to wake up. She needed a Diet Coke, and there wasn’t any in the cabin. She sat up, thinking to get dressed when she saw her iPhone, and thought she should check in on Susan. It was Sunday and would be mid-afternoon in England, around 3:00. When she turned it on, however, all she could see was a wooden door. She waited a minute then checked the volume to see if she could hear anything, but there was no sound. Then the phone picture changed to show a black and white cat sitting in a window. It was licking one of its paws. It looked just like Susan’s cat in the present named Checkers! What was Checkers doing back in the past, and what could the door mean? It certainly wasn’t Susan’s hotel room door. Where was Susan? Where was James?

A sick feeling came into the pit of her stomach.

Birds were singing outside the window when Susan woke up, feeling languid and satiated from an afternoon and night of lovemaking. She looked over at James, still asleep, his long lashes sweeping over his cheeks, his hair tousled on the pillow. Quietly, she got out of bed and slipped a wrapper on that she found hanging on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. Tying the belt around her waist, she silently padded out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Buttons silently followed, then pawed at the kitchen door to be let out.

“Oh, look, Buttons,” she said as she opened the door. “Here comes the sun!”

Sunlight was streaming across the kitchen table and floor as she opened the refrigerator to see what might be in it to concoct for breakfast. Ah yes, eggs, more than a dozen or so, in a large, blue bowl, a dish of butter, and a glass bottle of milk. Omelet or French toast? She looked in the cabinets for maple syrup but couldn’t find any. Then she spied the strawberries. French toast with some confectioner’s sugar and strawberries. Perfect!

She found the French bread they’d bought yesterday in one of the bags from the shop, pulled it out, and sliced half of the loaf. She then whipped a few eggs with milk and put some butter in the cast-iron skillet sitting on the stove. She sliced some strawberries into another bowl. She thought of going into the bedroom and waking James up but then laughed to herself as she knew what the outcome of that would be. And, she was really hungry and figured he would be too. They hadn’t eaten anything since their picnic the previous afternoon. She decided just to wait for him to wake up on his own.

In the meantime, she found a coffeepot and made some coffee. While it was brewing, she opened the back door and stepped down onto a small porch then down a step into a garden bursting at the seams with a variety of vegetables and herbs…tomatoes, lettuce, cabbages, squash, peppers, eggplant, oregano, basil, mint, thyme, sage and more. She pinched a leaf off a basil plant and sniffed it. Fabulous! She heard the back door open behind her and turned around. James was standing on the porch, squinting his eyes against the sun with a hand shading his eyes. He’d pulled his trousers on but was shirtless. He looked so handsome and sexy to her, his hair unkempt.

They both smiled at each other simultaneously, warm memories of the previous day and night still fresh in their minds.

“Morning, Luv,” he said, coming over and planting a kiss on her upturned mouth.

“Morning,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up into his eyes. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a flash if you’re hungry. Coffee’s already made.”

“That’s what woke me up, you know, the smell of coffee. I’d love breakfast. What are you making?”

“French toast with strawberries.”

“Mmmmm…sounds wonderful.”

He released her from the embrace, and they went back into the kitchen where she lit the gas burner to melt the butter in the skillet. The kitchen door was left open, and Buttons came back in, rubbing her cheeks against Susan’s legs. James ignored her.

“So, I guess I’ll find out how good of a cook you are,” he said teasingly.

“I’m excellent, you’ll find,” she responded, reaching down to scratch the cat’s head.

“You seem to be good at a lot of things.”

“That’s because I am, but you’re the real talent here, you know. Go over to the piano and play me a tune while I make the French toast.”

“Yes, my lady, as you wish. And why don’t you put that darned cat outside? She shouldn’t be in the kitchen while you’re cooking, you know.”

“She can be wherever she wants to be, isn’t that right, Buttons?” she responded, pouring a small saucer of milk and setting it on the floor.

James glowered at them both but went into the other room.

As she dipped the French bread into the egg mixture and placed it in the skillet, he sat down on the piano bench and randomly played bits and pieces of tunes. The French toast was soon done, and she added some salt to the remaining eggs and milk, then whipped them into scrambled eggs. They sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

“Wonderful,” he said, smiling over at her. “Best I’ve ever had.”

“Have you had French toast before then?” she asked.

“Never,” he said.

“Well, no wonder it’s the best then!”

As she was washing up the dishes, James went back to the piano and began picking out more tunes. As she raised her cup to take a sip of coffee, he began to play a tune that she knew so startlingly well that she gasped and dropped the cup on the floor. It was the beginning notes of “All My Kisses.” It had been her favorite song for fifty years. The fine porcelain cup shattered, and coffee went flying all over.

“Oh no, no!” she yelled. “Look what I’ve done!”

James leaped up from the piano bench, running over to her as she dropped down to the floor on her knees and began to gather the pieces of the cup.

She was trying to hold back tears but couldn’t quite do it. A large teardrop ran down her cheek, and she reached up with one hand to brush it away. James joined her on the floor, helping to pick up other pieces of the broken cup.

“Hey now, what’s this?” he asked, as he saw her brush away the tear.

“Oh, I just feel so bad breaking the cup. It’s probably one of your Aunt’s best or most favorite or…”

“No, now stop…” He reached up to cup her face in one hand. “She won’t care…It doesn’t matter.”

“But, I was so clumsy, and…”

She thought, “Oh...this isn’t about the cup at all...it was hearing that song!”

“It’s not important. We can always get her a new one if you like.”

“And where would we get a new one?”

“Well, we could go into Little Dippington,” he said. “We passed through it on the way here yesterday. It’s just a way down the road, and they have quite a few shops there. Auntie goes there all the time for most of her provisions. A lot of her friends live there.”

She sat back on her heels, then stood up and put the broken cup pieces in the bin.

“Okay, then, but first let me finish cleaning up this mess and wash the rest of the dishes. I’ll sweep up the rest of the cup shards now and scrub the floor when we get back.”

“I’ll go get the broom, and I’ll help you with the floor later.”

“Are you kidding me? Men don’t know how to scrub floors properly. Just get the broom...and don’t you dare scare Buttons with it,” she added, seeing James looking at the cat menacingly from the corner of his eye.

After the floor was swept and the dishes were put away, Susan went into the bathroom to wash her face and use the loo. When she was done, she looked into the mirror above the sink and stared silently at her reflection.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Oh! Why did you decide to do this and come here?!”

Hearing the beginning notes of her favorite song, the one she had cried herself to sleep listening to every night for years on end when she was a young teen, stung her to the quick. She put her hands up to her cheeks and took a deep breath. She wondered if James was just beginning to compose the song or if he’d finished just the tune but not the words. Should she ask him about it? Should she help him with the lyrics? No! No changing history! She’d just have to wait and see. She thought she might ask him to play it again...Her mind was swirling as she came out of the bathroom.

It was all becoming overwhelming to her. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be here. She’d been an out of control wanton the day before throwing herself at him and felt almost ashamed about it. Seeds of doubt were planting themselves in her mind. She wished again that Lynn was here. And, as an afterthought, she said, “He doesn’t even like cats!”

 

Chapter Eight

Little Dippington

The village of Little Dippington was less than a mile from Auntie Annabelle’s cottage, so James and Susan decided to walk. The morning was glorious, not a cloud in the sky, and it was warm enough, but not too warm to enjoy walking. They strolled hand-in-hand along the side of the country lane, taking their time to stop and pick wild flax and daisies along the way.

They arrived late morning in the village, and upon James’s insistence, went first to a shop that sold a variety of household items, including teacups, pitchers, cream pots and sugar bowls.

A bell tinkled above the door as they entered the shop