In The Name Of Love (15 page)

Finding her voice at last, she managed to say, "Beryl,
please call me Beryl."

The man was still holding her hand, and Beryl didn't want
him to let go, but then the girl spoke again and he released her hand to turn
to Elizabeth.

Beryl couldn't hear what they were talking about, because
the chatter from around her seemed to circle her head, muffling her ears. She
felt quite giddy with pleasure, and yet at the same time as she caught the
sparkle in the young girl's eyes while she chatted to the newcomer, she felt
the bile of envy rise into her stomach.
Why can't I be young and beautiful,
just like her?"

She'd had her hair and face made up especially for the
evening by Marion, her neighbour's daughter, before getting dressed in her new,
dark blue ball gown. Her hair had been coloured recently and tonight it
glistened as it hung in waves around her shoulders. Just the right amount of
makeup hand been applied by Marion, but extra lipstick had helped to bulk out
her naturally thin lips. Before leaving home, she'd admired her reflection in
the mirror, and knew she was ready to meet her promised beau.

She wasn't prepared for competition from this young girl
only half her age though, and she just didn't know how to cope. He face
reddened with anger as she saw Graham and Margaret Baines beaming across the
table at their daughter in deep conversation with this handsome stranger. She
saw his shoulders shaking with laughter at something Elizabeth said, and all
her prepared small talk evaporated.

The normal collection of people on her table at these
dinner-dances comprised middle-aged to elderly retirees, and the talk was
mostly of shopping, marriages, and deaths. She was confident that Grant Wilson
was interested in none of these, despite his close fitting suit and silk shirt.
The remnants of the soup course were collected, and the entrée was being set
out, but still he remained turned towards the young girl and engaged in quiet
conversation.

She just put a succulent portion of roast lamb into her mouth,
when he swung around to her and said, "What do you think of the meal, Beryl,
it's pretty tasty, isn't it?"

Unable to reply, because of the great lump of meat in her
mouth, she struggled to swallow it, but is stuck in her throat. She grabbed her
water and took large sips, and with some difficulty she managed to swallow the
meat. The young man, however, was once more turned towards Elizabeth and deep
in conversation. This was all going wrong, and she could feel her big
opportunity slipping away.

The desserts came and went, and while the coffees were
brought in, she saw the stage filling up with the 16-piece band hired for the
evening. The bandmaster tapped on the microphone and said, "Good evening ladies
and gentlemen. We start the music tonight with a slow waltz or two, followed by
a quickstep when Jane Reynolds will be your guest soloist."

Beryl joined in the clapping without much enthusiasm, and
watches as the lights went low and the music began. She stared mournfully at
her neighbour's back, and waited for him to get up and dance with Elizabeth.
Instead, he turned in his chair and beamed at Beryl.

"A waltz; this is my favourite dance," he said, gripping her
knee with his hand, "May I have the honour of this dance with you, Beryl?"

For a second she was frozen still from the sudden surprise
of his request and the warmth of his hand holding her leg. People didn't
usually dance until about the third or fourth tune, while Beryl often didn't
get a dance until they held a ‘lady's excuse me', when she would rush to get a
partner.

Tonight, she wasn't going to let her opportunity slip away,
especially with that hot young blonde next to Grant, so she got to her feet
with a bashful smile and she felt all eyes at the table looking her way. She
had never in her life ever been first on the dance floor, and as she led Grant
out, holding his hand in a tight grip for confidence, she blushed at the sea of
white faces looking her way.

Once on the dance floor, however, with Grant's arms around
her, all her worries melted away. The one thing in life she excelled at was
ballroom dancing, and in seconds they were gliding around the dance floor as if
they'd been partners for many years. In the first few steps, she realised Grant
was also an expert dancer, and she followed his lead to perfection.

Tonight,
she flew around the floor like Debbie Reynolds dancing with Gene Kelly, and she
didn't realise they were the only couple dancing until the song finished and
everybody started clapping. Many people were even giving them a standing ovation.

Looking around the room she saw Graham and his wife
clapping, while their young daughter was standing as she clapped and cheered.
There was a flash of light, and she saw the photographer from the local paper
taking their photo, and Beryl didn't even blush as she curtsied to Grant's bow.

They slipped effortlessly back into the next dance; this time with other
couples joining them. As his strong arm held her body on some of the more
complicated turns, Beryl felt happier than at any other time in her life, and
when he smiled at her, she almost fainted with pleasure.

They didn't stop dancing for over thirty minutes, getting
another round of clapping for their performance of the polka. Finally, she
said, "Grant, I'm really enjoying this, but I just have to have a rest."

"I'm so glad you asked, I was about to fall over from
exhaustion."

They laughed as she led him, hand in hand, back to their
table. She was pleased to see there was no sign of Elizabeth, but she was not
too concerned after the fantastic dancing with Grant she'd just enjoyed.

When she was halfway through her second drink, she noticed
Elizabeth returning to the table with her father, and guessed they'd been
dancing together. She took Grant's hand, and said, "Shall we?" and stood up, so
he had no chance to cry off.

She need not have worried, he didn't even glance towards
Elizabeth who smiled across at him, and in seconds she was in his arms once
again. A slow waltz started, and the lights went even lower, with the only
light on the dance floor coming from the spots of light from the spinning ball
above as it was caught by the coloured spotlights.

She felt his arm pull her body closer and she let her head
slip into the crook of his neck. Their bodies clung together as they swayed to
the music on the crowded dance floor, and she wanted the moment to go on
forever.

His lips brushed her cheek, then her ear as he whispered,
"It's getting too crowded now, how would you like to come back to my place for
a coffee?"

Don't let this opportunity pass, or you'll regret is the
rest of your days
. That is what her horoscope warned, so she said, "That
sounds great, Grant."

Her heart was beating as she waited for her coat, but then Grant
was by her side and took her elbow. There were a few taxis outside, and she was
surprised when he opened the door of the first one, and gesture her inside. A
local girl, used to walking and bussing, she'd never once been in a taxi.

She heard Grant speak to the drive, "Royal Oak Hotel,
please," and her heart thumped away so loud she was sure he could hear it. She
felt his hand take hers and give it a gentle squeeze, and she smiled at him, a
little unsure of herself now. She'd never had a boyfriend, even at school, and
she did not know what was expected of her.

As she looked at his face, she guessed he was about thirty,
so that's not so bad. Tonight, in this luxurious ball-gown and high-heeled
shoes she felt years younger than the thirty-eight years her birth certificate
showed, and so she squeezed his hand back in return.

The taxi drew up outside the hotel, and the doorman was
there to open her door and usher her into the lobby. She followed a few paces
behind Grant, as he walked up to the reception desk and collected his room key,
and was pleased to see the lobby was empty. Then they were in the lift, up to
the fifth floor, and walking hand in hand along the narrow corridor.

The hotel looked glamorous downstairs, but she saw it was
quite shabby now. Grant pushed open their bedroom door, and clicked on the
lights, and as she entered the room she noticed the old curtains, threadbare
carpets, and musty old eiderdown on the double bed. For the first time since
leaving the dance floor, she began to have doubts.

Grant went around the bed, turning on radio to some loud
dance music and then the lights, and gradually the room lost its gloom and
became almost cheerful. She stood at the bottom of the bed, and dropped her
handbag onto the nearby chair, unsure what to do next.

Her heart went to her
mouth as she saw Grant look her up and down as he walked slowly back to her. He
stood right before her, his face inches from hers and he said, "You are the
most beautiful woman I've seen this year." And then his lips were on hers, and
she found herself returning his kisses as his arms went around her body, pulling
her into a tight clinch.

His kisses were so warm and passionate, she felt herself
going weak at the knees, while her heart filled with love for this man who made
her feel so good. She felt his hands rubbing her shoulder, then up and down her
back until her grasped her buttocks with both hands and lifted her off her
feet. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and still their mouths
continued with the first and best kisses of her life.

She stiffened as she felt the tip of his tongue push between
her lips, and at first she tightened her lips to stop it, but then when she
relaxed a little, he was inside her mouth. His tongue exploring her teeth and
tongue, and as he let her feet back to the ground, she returned his kisses with
rising passion. She felt the hot glow in her stomach and let her tongue caress
and twist around with his.

His hot hands were on the naked flesh of her back, and for a
second she stopped her kisses, because he dressed was zipped up to the back of
her neck and she'd not felt him pull it down at all. There was a slight
pressure as his fingers pushed against her back, and then her body suddenly
felt loose and free. This time she heard the zip of her gown as it slid down to
her bottom, and she pulled away from his kisses to look into his face.

She relaxed as she saw his broad smile, and then his hands
were at her shoulders, sliding the gown down her arms, past her waist and down
to the floor. The rush of cold air made her glance at her breasts, and realised
he'd also undone her brassiere, which was now on the floor with her gown.

Before she could move, his hands cupped her breasts, strong fingers tweaked
nipples untouched by male hands, and as their mouths came together once more,
Beryl felt emotions coursing through her body she didn't know existed.

She rubbed her fingers through his hair as he kissed her
neck and then took each hard nipple into his mouth in turn. He was kissing,
sucking, licking and all the time caressing her breasts and body with his
hands. She felt his fingers at her girdle, and moved her hands to stop him, but
she was far too slow. In the blink of an eye, her panties, girdle, and
stockings were at her feet, and she realised that for the first time in her
life she was naked before a man.

A quick moment of anxiety fled across her face, but was gone
in a second when Grant said, "I've had my fun, undressing you, and now it's
your turn for fun, Beryl. You may undress me."

He stood before her, fully clothed, but with a warm
comforting smile upon his face, so instead of grabbing her clothes and rushing
into the bathroom – an idea that had paid her a fleeing visit – she reached out
and started to undo his tie with a bright gleam in her eyes. Her dream was
about to come true.

A handsome man had swept her off her feet, danced the
evening away with her, and was now waiting for her warm embrace. She intended
to make this moment last so it would be forever in her memory.

Next door to the room where Beryl was taking off Grant's
silk tie, two men were gazing into their room through a two-way mirror. Both
men had beads of sweat on their face, and both had loosened their neckties some
time before, but neither took their eyes off the scene unfolding before their
eyes.

Raymond Agnew was a fifteen stone, thirty-five year old freelance
photographer and apart from the two 35mm cameras around his neck, he held an
8mm movie camera in his hand. All the cameras were expensive, specially
silenced pieces of equipment that Ray had been using with some success for a
number of years.

He gave the movie camera to his reporter partner, Jack
Morgan, and gestured for his to continue taking selected scenes with it, while
he shot some 35mm photos using extra-fast film for the room-lighting next door.
Jack was busting for a fag, but could not risk the smoke filtering into the
room next door. Two years ago, when filming a politician with a local TV star,
they'd blown their cover when he lighted a cigar.

When Jack was hired for this job by Cyril Worthington, he
was paid half his fee in advance and told not to blow this one, or it would be
the last time he worked in the county.

Ray took a couple of great shots of Beryl from the side,
showing her breasts to perfection as she rubbed up against Grant's coat jacket,
before slipping it over his shoulders and tossing it onto the chair, covering
her handbag.

Then he zoomed in on her stubby fingers as she struggled with the
buttons on his shirt, and all the time Grant ran his hands up and down her body
until she quivered with excitement. The cameras clicked away silently as Grant's
shirt fell to the ground, and then they focused on Beryl's face, as she undid
his belt.

"I bet you a quid she goes down on him," said Jack, in an
almost silent whisper, wiping his face with the back of his arm.