Chapter 17

Miriam and Gertie didn't show up at breakfast the next morning and we didn't see them again till the following day when we boarded the plane to go home. Their husbands looked a little sheepish, especially Myron, but when I winked at them they winked back at me. Everyone saw this, and everyone laughed, even Vic. Poor Vic. He had really taken a beating-and had given one too-and he was really feeling its effects.

Fortunately it was the last day of the tour and everyone was given as much free rein as they liked- within limits, of course. Shops, shows, clubs, and exhibits were on the list-each one specially chosen by us. We stipulated only one thing: be packed and ready with your bags in the lobby of the hotel at 8 a.m. the next day. Not one second later.

Everyone agreed readily enough and then dispersed. Vic headed straight for bed after telling the man at the hotel desk to ring our room at six o'clock. Our plan was to have a quiet dinner alone in the poshest restaurant we knew.

The doorman opened the door and I bounded outside, lightly tripping down the steps and into the sunlit streets of Copenhagen. For the first time in two weeks I actually felt free-of schedules, people, hotel rooms ... even Vic. A whole day to be my own woman-one whole day.

My first stop was at the hairdressers where I had my hair trimmed and set. I emerged feeling like a rejuvenated person-new haircut. I scoured the shops, looking for nothing in particular but wanting to buy everything I saw. The counters were heaped with so many lovely things that I'd never make use of and the racks were filled to overflowing with clothes I knew I'd never wear.

Eventually I settled on a silk scarf in a bold pattern of brown and tan. It truly was an expensive treat, but I consoled myself by saying that I hadn't bought anything for myself in a very long time. I knotted it around my neck and wore it out of the shop.

My destination was Baker's Park on the outskirts of the city. I don't know why I chose to go there; in fact the reasons never entered my mind. It was, in a way, a total escape from the tour; we hadn't mentioned it on our list.

It took quite some time to get there and by the time I arrived I was famished. I headed straight for the open air cafe and quickly ordered an enormous salad with black bread and cheese. And a glass of white wine. Immediately I .had regrets. The park looked shabby, almost as if the soul had seeped out of it. Lights were hung all around but being day time none were lit. A stand which they used to set off fireworks was empty and flags hung limply on the scaffolding. A few young mothers were walking with their children who were obviously being given a respite from a day at school. Groups of businessmen passed by, gesturing to one another and talking loudly.

Although my meal was surprisingly good, I ate it without relish. Not only had the soul gone out of the park, but it had also, quite suddenly, gone out of me. I kept on thinking how the day had started out so promising and now....

I decided to order another glass of wine. Perhaps I was tired-the last two weeks had certainly been hectic-and I only needed a bit of sleep.

Just as I raised my hand to catch the waiter's attention I noticed someone walking towards me. He looked familiar. Suddenly I realized it was Alex Sexton, Sadie Sharp's silent partner. I couldn't understand why he was here or how he had even heard about Baker's Park. Then it came to me: he must have found a glorified description of it in a travel book and therefore he had come to have a good look at it.

"Hello," he called out, "can I join you?"

"Oh yes, please do," I answered.

He walked over to my table and sat down. He saw my empty wine glass and without much ado he got the waiter's attention.

After our drinks were served I asked him what he

.thought about the park; I was pleased that his response echoed my own feelings. He said he was disappointed, but probably for reasons different than my own. "You see," he said, a sad smile on his lips, "I came to Copehagen fifteen years ago, on my honeymoon. We-my former wife and I-stayed in a hotel that wasn't far from here and we'd begin our day by walking in the park. I think it's better to leave things to memory."

I didn't want to probe but I could see that he desperately wanted to talk to someone. His wound was still fresh, just enough to hurt. We finished our drinks and began to walk along the paths, talking quite seriously. However, there was an undercurrent of gaiety in our words and we really did begin to laugh quite a lot as the hours wore on. Finally he suggested that we sit down somewhere, and after searching around for a few minutes we found a nice secluded spot under some trees. The light streamed in through the branches, catching the steely grey hairs that made him look so distinguished. When he put his coat down on the grass for me to sit on I noticed that he was. powerfully built, with very broad shoulders and chest and very slim hips. I estimated that he was about forty-five, but he gave a far younger appearance. His face was tanned and rugged, his nose thin and pointed, and his eyes a wonderful shade of blue.

It was only when he mentioned his wife did his whole manner change. She had obviously hurt him deeply, and although he had already been divorced a year, he still thought of her. This was one of the main reasons he had gone on the tour-to forget. Only today he remembered.

Sitting with him I suddenly felt very secure. When he saw me he must have recognized my loneliness. It's strange how loneliness comes upon you- even when you think you're most happy. He too seemed to sense this about the park. In the evening, he said, things were very gay in a silly, second rate way. Fun if you don't think about it. But during the day....

He bent over and kissed me, drawing me close to him and hugging me with his strong arms. He laughed when I gave him a passionate kiss and he kissed me again. "Let's make love," he said abruptly.

"Here?" I said, thinking how I hadn't made love outdoors for years and years.

"Yes here," he said brightly, standing up and unbuttoning his shirt.

I looked around-the park seemed deserted. I rose and he helped me off with my dress. I shook out my hair: that good feeling of the morning was coming back to me. He completed it by complimenting me on my scarf and I told him that I had just bought it this morning.

For a few minutes we stood there, looking at each other. I saw approval in his eyes and I was certain he saw it in mine. "You have lovely breasts," he said, reaching out to touch them. He brushed his fingers over them and I felt a shock of desire fun through me. Then he took me in his arms and helped me sit down on his coat. The grass felt cold and wet under my feet, but he was warm, very warm.

He lay on his side, his hands making tour after tour of my body. There was something so classic about his every action-so good. He bent down towards me and took my right nipple in his mouth, sucking on it deeply and drawing it out. Just as he began to do the same with the left one I felt his hand skirt down my stomach to my crotch, squeeze it, then begin to rub it gently.

His lovemaking was masterful: he seemed to know my most tender spots, where they should be licked or sucked or touched. He aroused me in waves and my passion for him grew with each passing minute. I ran my hands over his chest; his flesh felt taut and smooth. His prick nestled between his legs, and his underbelly was heavily tufted with dark hairs. I reached down for him, drawing him up with one hand and then with the other. Within minutes he was hard.

Suddenly he swung himself around, leaning on his side. He sought my moistness with his lips and licked me fully with his tongue. I could feel my blood beginning to turn cold and a moan escaped from me. He seemed to want to prolong my preliminary ecstasy and his tongue ran along the inside of my thighs, over my patch, around my clit, and along my lips.

I teased him with my mouth, sucking on his cock and following the outline of his stem with my tongue. At one point he pressed his hand down on my head> indicating that I should take him in more, completely. I did; the tip of his prick hit the back of my mouth and I took deep breaths then blew on it lightly.

Just when I felt I had reached the point that preceded orgasm he swung around, lay me down on my back, and entered me, swiftly and easily. Then he turned both of us over on our sides and we began to grind into each other, slowly at first and then faster and faster. He kissed my neck and ran his fingers through my hair; I shuddered. Then he murmured, "Beautiful, beautiful," and my heart leapt.

Our efforts were sure; our rhythm coincided perfectly. Still we went faster, plunging into one another, deeper, deeper....

Suddenly I cried out, "I'm coming, I'm coming." He didn't reply; instead he gasped and thrust into me, exploding in me at my first burst. We helped each other along, bringing each other up and over, up and over, quickly at first then more and more slowly. Soon we subsided, resting, for awhile, in each other's arms.

I dozed, and when I awoke I saw that it was almost sunset. I kissed Alex briefly, untangled myself from his arms, and got up and dressed. The air was sharp and both of us scrambled into our clothes. Then we walked out of the grove, our eyes squinting.

"Are you coming back?" I said when we reached the entrance to the park.

Alex shook his head. "Not now, not yet," was all he said.

I smiled, turned on my heel, and walked away.