Chapter 8

PRIVATE LOVING

Bruce's cottage was an electronic masterpiece. It was warm, cozy, and filled with everything a very rich young man could ever wish for. I think Bruce had never meant to marry, for there were, and still are, many deeply set bachelor patterns in his make-up. It is like the old English saying:

"Marry a man before thirty, no more, Or he is set for ever, sure."

And in a whole mountain of irritating things, Bruce was set. He was a square, a conservative, a bigot, went to church on Sunday, was a Rotarian, also a Mason, and liked to think of himself as controlling a small electronic empire-where there were only five people, but also five factories of machines making machines.

In this last part, the factory, I saw the real Bruce. He was not of today. He was somehow, part of something that was happening in the future. Bruce was the future. He had his automation factories. He had his new things that went into American rockets and helped take pictures of Mars and probe the heart of Venus. I was so surprised when I began understanding just a little of what he was doing.

Every woman who falls in love with a man has to think that her man is something very, very special. Because he is, always, to her. I started off by feeling completely the opposite about Bruce. Yet, I had fallen in love with him. It would have made no difference to me if he was nothing, if he had been a shoe and boot salesman. I would still have loved him. But when I started into his world, I knew it was something vaster and more exciting than anything I could ever have visualised as being the world of the man I loved.

"Won't be a minute, just see if there are any messages for me." Bruce had poured us each a brandy. I held my giant goblet and watched him. The room was small, with colors everywhere, and very old fashioned. But hidden away were many things.

"Hello, Bruce here, messages for me?" He had opened a walnut cabinet and switched on a dial.

There were messages for him-from many parts of the world. It was as if the world had arrived in this small room. Outside, in flat Lincolnshire, the rain might fall in solid sheets, but in here the world was as close as a switch on a dial.

"Are you a spy?" I asked as Bruce came back to me from his work.

"No, not me. I am neutral. At least, I am on the side of humanity. I think we have to have freedom, and I think we have to have, perhaps, more intelligence than we yet possess. I am involved; that is the word. I am involved with life, and people, and communications. In some ways I am a communications philosopher; that's what they tell me. I try and shape the world for safety, reason, and survival. That is one of my great worries, to see our world survive, to see it does not blow itself to pieces."

"You are thirty, Bruce, how can you possibly, well, I don't see how you can help-an enormous thing like that?" I stared at him.

"Communications! The handing out of knowledge, the path to the stars, the progress of people. I want us to be out of starvation, away from wars, clear of-sorry, I am off on my dialogue. It's impressive, and it's true, but-Diana, you are one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever met."

His large brown eyes stared at me. They were the eyes of a small boy, somehow.

"I love you," Bruce announced suddenly. "It is not a rational thing. All of my life I have been dealing with the rational beggarly behavior of the negative ion. I can see why I love you. It's to do with some kind of desperate beauty, some kind of damned sadness they have beaten into you. But, it's not pity, it's not feeling sorry for a wet dog. I am the victim, and I'm damned if I understand why I should be so greatly pleased at it. But having you here makes me very happy, stupidly so. I am not a stupid man. At least, I never have been until last Friday night. I expect plenty of men have told you this. It just, well, happens to be true in my case."

"Let's go to bed." I smiled. "I have a great deal to tell you, some time or other, and like this, Bruce, dear, it's very cold to say things, apart from each other."

"Yes, let's go to bed." Bruce stood up, placed his glass down carefully. I noticed how meticulous he always was. Bruce kissed me lightly on the cheek; then, holding my hand, he led the way to a very steep staircase.

"We've only one bedroom here. I had the place modernized as best as I could. Really, it's a bachelors pad, nothing more. You make me start apologizing for everything, damn it. Let's go to bed and see what it is all about!"

I sat on the edge of the bed and listened as Bruce spoke. He was undressing and seemed to be very slow at it. The sexual excitement I had always had to have was not there. It was some thing else, a kind of brooding happiness. I did not worry about tomorrow. Not that I ever have. Only once, yes, I did, when I had to escape from Sam in order to survive. Then I worried, because I loved Sam, and I knew it was the end of my marriage. I would have to tell Bruce all of these things, perhaps, one day. I do not know. It is always said that it is best not to speak of what was. Old loves and old affairs are something that meant a great deal. Time will not change the feelings that were then. The person who was involved in that loving, in that marriage, was another Diana. I knew that, and I decided there and then that I would never speak of it, only mention that I was divorced and that my marriage had been a disaster, for me.

Bruce came out in his pajamas. He looked too neat. I was amused as I spoke. "You seem to be set to sleep the night."

"Oh? Well, it might get chilly." He stopped and suddenly went a slight pink. "I am blushing, do you notice it?"

"Yes. What's it for?" I asked him very amused by his boyishness.

"I-love you. I think that's what it is." He sat down on the bed next to me as if to confess to me a whole list of wrong-doings, and loving me being the key one. Instead, we kissed, and I turned slowly towards him, opening my arms and holding him to me. I was waiting for something, and I was not certain what that something might turn out to be!

Bruce kissed me slowly, and then I slipped off my gown and lay in his arms, toying with the buttons of his pajamas. Bruce sighed, took off his glasses and turned out the light. He kissed my body slowly and deliberately, and I could feel he was unwilling to move beyond a certain point. But for once in my life I did not want to take the initiative, so I accepted his kisses, and held him close. He was gentle. It was nice to get to know Bruce. I was so intensely aware of everything about him. I could not see why. He was not that handsome, nor that tall. Nor had he swept me off my feet and carried me to some bed to plunge immediately into furious love making. Bruce was easy going, at peace with himself, and in no particular hurry to take me as a sex companion.

"I'll take these off; it's too darned hot!" Bruce announced and stripped his pajamas off at last. His naked body was nice and firm. It had a scent of talc and lavender, faintly. I kissed his shoulder as he put his arms about me and the sheet came over us.

Nothing more happened. I rested there, content, and in a while I slept. Bruce was holding me. I seemed to feel that Bruce was some solidity, some new world that could hold me and keep me forever. I was surprised to feel such a spring of gladness within myself to at last have reached such a safe harbouring. All the hot sexual flesh and the plunging cocks, the sexual orgies and the fierce hours of passion in my life were stripped and cast away. I was with Bruce, and I was his.

If he threw me out on the morrow, it was still all worthwhile. I could say that I had gotten to a point once where love was. It was simple. One loved a person, and the sex part was something else that was exterior and not of the two people holding each other this moment. But it was important. I knew I had to have him possess me some time or other. I had to experience what loving with Bruce was like. A woman is one third flesh, one third dreams, and one third reality. I loved Bruce, and needed him, and in true orgygirl Diana fashion, I needed his cock busy in me. But it was all a balance, and no single part of it more than any other part. In a way, I knew I had matured, and that love was something not of the flesh, but more of the spirit. At least, this love I had for Bruce seemed very much so.

"You terrify me," Bruce suddenly whispered to me out of the warm dark. His arms held me lightly to him. He kissed my nipples, first one, then the other. I sighed and felt a cool shudder run right down my spine to the tips of my toes.

"I terrify you, Bruce? Why?" I said.

"You are very beautiful. I never expected to run into a woman so full, and mature, and terrifyingly beautiful. I didn't think it ever happened."

I turned towards him and pulled his body right against mine. I could feel the hard stalk of his cock pressing against me. Desire was there, and it was like a slow fire that bubbles and smoulders and smoked and fumed and grew into an intensity that would eventually come and steal my breath and my heart away.

"Tell me all about it, Bruce, dear!" I kissed his forehead.

"I went to the musical party at Rouse Hall because I was free Friday evening, and I had been asked to come by several people. Then, I saw you. I saw you, and there was nothing else. I seemed to have got some kind of focus that only saw you. I saw your look, your hair, your eyes. I was stunned and could not make out who the devil you were. I was so positive I knew you. I thought you might be a television actress, or else someone I had met at a party some other place."

"I am-I was-an orgy girl. Diana ef the wild life. I am rather ashamed of it now."

"No, no, you shouldn't be. I think you have been frightfully hurt, somewhere or other. I'm not the sort of person who, well, I never let life hurt me. I got my first degree when I was eighteen. I owned my first factory when I was twenty-two. And now I have all of these things, and no one has ever intruded, before. But you are the opposite. You have run out onto the spears."

He was making me feel all jelly and wobbly and I wanted him to fuck and fuck and fuck and stop all this examining and thought. Life is not for thought. Life is for love. But I caressed his neck, stroked his back and arms, and I could feel his cock slowly pressing and throbbing against me.

"I love you very much," Bruce announced. "I don't think it frightfully fair, mind you. But there is nothing I can do about it. I have heard things like this happen to people. I always thought it was something to do with sentimentality, or else another kind of person. God, when it happens to oneself, it's pretty merciless, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, it is very cruel. I know. But I don't care. We can part tomorrow and never see each other ever again." I told him this as his cock came pressing and my leg rose up to allow it to slide and find me hot and excited for it. "Now, let's love; let's love and damn the whole wide world."

Bruce was hardly aware of what was happening. I was virtually forcing him to take me. I inched my leg right over; this let his cock slip closer and closer and then enter me almost without him being aware of it. I pulled Bruce right to me, and then we were so locked that he gasped in surprise.

"You must marry me, Diana. I am a terrible kind of moralist and I hate to do this without there being a reason. The reason for love I don't know, except to have a family. Can you have children, say five or six?"

I lay back, hot and wet and slowly wriggling my hips. His cock was large and fitted nicely. I was happy and my lower leg slid right beneath Bruce, allowing him to press right into my wide open legs and penetrate as fully and as deeply as he wished.

"There-this is love, Bruce. I love you. I never, never want any other man." I laughed and bit him on the shoulder.

"Oh, Diana f You naughty, naughty bitch." Bruce suddenly was fucking. He had awoken to the flesh and the desire at last. I was wild again and riding with him, digging my nails into him and letting his cock surge in and out of me while I crooned and played with his ears.

"Oh, Bruce, you have a lovely, lovely, oooh, ooh, lovely bed. I am glad you are you. I am, oooh, coming fast!" I was wide open for him. I suddenly accepted Bruce as if he was to be part of my life for ever and ever. I could feel his cock shooting and surging, and then I was snatched right with him, tightly, and kissing, and part of him as he was so truly part of me. It was an astonishing climax! It was a golden explosion. I had never, but most certainly never, had this kind of sexual orgasm before. I was shocked by it. I lay with my arms about him.

"I don't take the pill," I announced.

"Oh, that's good. The pill is dangerous. As I was saying, we ought to get married, and as soon as possible."

I was not listening to him. I was working out the dates and I was worried. Bruce had caught me on those couple of days of the month when I was certain to have to worry.

"What happens, dear, if I have a baby?" I asked him. "A baby would be very nice, if he was like you. I think I might prefer a girl though. I don't know."

Bruce sighed. "You talk on and on, and you don't listen to a single damned word I am saying."

"I can feel you getting hard again."

"Diana, you are a sex-mad bitch. I am asking you to marry me, and all you speak about-hell, if I didn't love you, I would throw you right out of my bed and out of my life."

"You wouldn't dare! And listen, tough guy, I leave tomorrow and I won't see you again, ever, not if you come crawling to my front door on your hands and knees." I was suddenly breathless as his hard cock was so suddenly back within me again. "Bruce, oooh, Bruce, dear, we must never, never meet again. It's fatal, this. It's bad for you and I love it and am ruined by it. Please, oooh, yes, yes, yes!"

That was the way the night went. It was wonderful. It was so exhausting. It was unique, and I refused to think that it could ever happen again. Bruce just stole into me, exactly as I wished him to. We loved and slept, and loved, and the rain fell down the night sky. But we just did not give a damn.

Weeks later I was very happy. I came out of the hospital after seeing Sir Peters and I seemed to dance lightly along as if walking on bubbles of air.

Petesie was going to find his life changed. He would have to slow down on his loving sessions. Without a prostate, Sir Peters was no longer in pain, but a little ashamed of himself as he still felt they might have castrated him. I chuckled at his worries, as the surgeon was so certain it had been a highly successful operation, and much overdue.

I paused in the sunlight and looked down Gower Street. I had parked my mini-car somewhere, and, like a muffin, I had been in such a hurry to make visiting hours, I had forgotten which direction I had to go and hunt for it in. But the sunshine was fine, and there was a flower seller on the comer of Euston Road, so I stopped and bought a great bunch of daffodils to take back to my apartment. I was happy, and damned well certain I was pregnant too. Perhaps that was why I was so happy. I laughed and worked out it was going to be an October baby, a Capricorn, and one certain of great success in this, our great, life. A flood of dreams and optimism was going through me. I knew my doctor thought I ought to have a husband to go with having a baby, but that was a problem I would have to look into some other time. It is best not to think too much. Thinking people, like Bruce, have the whole world to worry about. I was still determined to be a butterfly and have a baby butterfly along with me. It was all good for one. I hoped.

All I had to do was to find my mini-car and life would be good. I walked on down Euston Road, and people stopped to stare and smile at my mini-skirt and my bunch of golden daffodils. Then that damned Aston Martin came almost up onto the pavement. Bruce was back in town. I turned and fled up a side alley, cutting down through University College and back into Gower Street. I was not angry, just annoyed. I did not want to see Bruce again. I had gone from him that morning, and I had no intention of ever getting caught by him again. I loved him; perhaps he loved me. I still wanted to be free.

"Diana, can I have a word with you, please?" Bruce had cut through and was in front of me, standing there with his large brown eyes staring at me through those ridiculous glasses of his. "Listen to me. Get in my car. I'll take you anywhere you wish to go."

"I am looking for my car, Bruce." I stopped and made a bad mistake. I stared at him, and we could not help smiling.

"Hey there-orgy girl, I can't do anything without you," Bruce announced simply.

"Bruce, I have so many damned problems. I can't find my car. I have to get a husband for our baby-I mean-no matter. Sir Peters wants to marry me, and I love him and can't hurt the dear thing. Above all-you know what?"

Bruce stood by the Aston Martin patiently holding the door open for me. "No, Diana, what?"

"You upset me too much. You're too damned normal!"

"Get in, orgy girl." Bruce sighed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and entered the sleek black car.

"Diana," Bruce said quietly as we drove off to search for my lost mini-car. "We get married on Friday, have a honeymoon in Germany, be back here in one week for the defense conference. Tell me one thing-hey there, orgy girl, you listening to me?"

"Yes, yes, Bruce," I sniffed. "What is it?"

"Well, what do you say?"

I did not say anything. I was so happy I was weeping like a child in a great golden field of sunlight.