The Dead of Night (23 page)

I shuddered. "Change the subject."

He suddenly moved a little closer and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, possibly even harder. It was so fresh, but I didn't know where it might end, or where I wanted it to end. Gradually his kisses changed from hard and savage to soft and teasing, making little light contacts with my lips in one spot after another. It was exciting. We did that for quite a time, then lay with our heads on each other's shoulders. His blanket had slipped down a bit, though I was making sure that mine didn't. I felt the smooth hollow under his collarbone, his skin warm and alive. I nudged it with my lips, making little murmuring noises to it, and rubbed my hands up his arms. I found a little pulse under the skin and concentrated on kissing that. He was humming quietly, I thought, but I wasn't sure if it was his skin or his voice. He played with my hair and the back of my
neck, stroking me with surprising confidence. With his long fine fingers he teased my hair out, unravelling a few knots and letting the strands slide across his hands.

"Nice hair," he said at last.

"It's so oily," I complained.

"I like it. It feels natural. It's sexy."

"Thanks." I laughed.

He must have taken that for encouragement, because he moved his hand down under the blanket for the first time, feeling for my shoulder blades. Oh help, I thought. What do I do here? Dad always used to talk about the thin edge of the wedge, and I was afraid that this was it. I didn't want to stop, but I thought maybe we should, and I thought I might regret it if I didn't stop him soon. But it felt so good. Damn him, I thought, how does he know what I like? I wondered if I was having the same effect on him with my hands, and I experimentally ran my fingers down his side as far as I could get, which wasn't very far. His skin seemed to come out in goose pimples as I touched him, which was quite exciting. I lifted myself a little and touched his left nipple. Steve had taught me that boys' nipples were as sensitive as girls.' Lee's were different to Steve's though. Steve's had been pale and wide, like fried eggs on his chest. I liked Lee's more. They were little and dark brown, like press studs. When I played with the left one it hardened straightaway, so I could strum it and tickle it with the tip of my finger.

"Ai, ai, ai," he said.

"Is that Thai or Vietnamese?"

"Neither. Universal."

"Ha."

My blanket was holding up at the front, just, but was well down at the back, as Lee's hands kept roaming. I lay still for a while, feeling guilty that I wasn't doing more but enjoying his touch too much. My skin had become so heated that I thought his hands would catch fire. I moved back off him a little, but couldn't help playing with his right nipple for a minute, just like I had the left. Then I ran my hand lower, in a long sweeping movement, kissing him warmly as I did so.

"Are you going to be able to stop?" I asked him.

"Sure, sure."

"You're a terrible liar."

By moving back off him that little bit I'd given him more room. Trying to look casual, he put his hand under the blanket that was just covering me at the front, at the same time kissing me hard to try to distract me. And I was easily distracted. I let him run his hands over my skin, thinking that what had been fair enough for him was fair enough for me. I rumpled his hair, feeling my face redden as he excited me more and more. Would I be able to stop? Would I want to stop? I already knew the answer to that, as I had done since he first came into the room.

"Oh God Lee," I said, but couldn't think of how I should finish the sentence. My own hands went further than they should have, down to his waist and beyond. It was as though they had a life of their own. The hell with it, I thought. I'll do it. Last time we'd been in this house I'd spent a lot of time wrapped in a tartan rug: that's when Lee had first called me a caterpillar, a "beautiful sexy caterpillar." Now, a caterpillar again, I was emerging from my cocoon of blankets. Lee's hands were at my
bum and he was rolling me over a little. I felt up inside his legs as high as I dared, but not quite touching everything. I sneaked a little look though. It was fascinating; such a wild looking thing, so greedy, so determined. I knew Lee was looking at me too, and I was a bit embarrassed. Not very, though. It was obvious that he liked what he saw, and I secretly enjoyed the effect I was having on him.

"Have you got a...?" I asked, turning my head away a little. I didn't want to say the word.

"A what?" he asked.

"You know, a condom."

"Oh no!" he groaned, "Ellie! Not that! Not now!"

"OK, OK," I said, "that's cool, just as long as you have the baby for me."

"Jesus," Lee swore. "Do you have to?"

"Yes! Can you imagine if I got pregnant?"

He sulked for a minute, then said, "I think Homer's got some."

"How many do you think you'll need?" I asked, giggling into my pillow. He started getting up.

"Wait!" I said. "What are you going to do? You can't just go and ask him for them."

"I'm not that stupid," he said, still grumpy. "They're in his wallet, and his wallet should be in his trousers and his trousers are in the bathroom, drying."

He disappeared out of the door, shuffling along in his blanket, and I lay there, smiling. I couldn't believe I was actually going to do it. I hoped I wouldn't muck it up and that it wouldn't hurt too much and that it would feel fantastic. I was nervous, but I was still aching all over with the need for him, the longing to feel him
against me again. His warm hands had felt fantastic. I gave a little laugh out loud, a laugh of amazement and disbelief and excitement. It seemed ages before he came back, but at last he shuffled in and flung himself on top of me, clutching a couple of the little packets in his hand. With a shy grin, trying to do it as modestly as possible, he got himself out from his blanket and in under mine. To feel our two naked bodies together, skin to skin, was the wildest feeling of my life. I thought I'd been fired up before, but now it was like sparks were shooting off me. Lee had calmed down with the walk to the bathroom, and had cooled down too, but I warmed him by rubbing against him, and felt him quickly react.

"Put it on," I said at last, nodding at his clenched fist.

He peeled one open and lifted himself off me, looking down so he could see what he was doing. I watched curiously.

"Don't look," he said, blushing and trying to put his forearm over my eyes.

"Oh," I said, "you're so cute when you're shy."

When he was ready I hugged him to me and nibbled his ear for a minute, before wrapping my legs around him. After that it went OK; not great, but OK. Lee got a bit clumsy, just from nerves I think, and that made me a bit nervous, which didn't help. I wanted to be the great lover, the perfect partner, and I got worried that I wasn't being that. By the time he was really in me he couldn't hold on any longer, and after that he wasn't as passionate; he just wanted to lie there and hold me.

I made him be a bit more creative, until I'd had enough too. I didn't know what I felt then: a mixture of
things. I was pleased that I'd finally done it without any disasters, sorry that it hadn't been better, wondering if I'd be completely different from now on. But I enjoyed the cuddling. For about half an hour we lay together, eyes closed, scratching each other's arms and backs with long slow lazy strokes, drifting in and out of sleep.

We were interrupted by a soft knock on the door and Homer's whisper. "Ellie! It's your turn for sentry."

"OK," I called. "I'll be there."

I waited a few more minutes, then eased Lee off me. I pulled up a blanket for covering, planning to go downstairs and get some dry clothes from my pack before I relieved Homer. But as I got to the door, I suddenly realised something. Homer had knocked on the door, then called his message through it. He'd never done that before. He always just crashed in and shook me awake. We'd known each other so long we didn't bother with too many polite customs. I turned and looked at Lee, lying there on the bed.

"Lee," I said,'"why did Homer knock on the door?"

"Eh?" he said, only half awake.

"Why did Homer knock? Why didn't he come barging in like he usually does?"

Suddenly he was awake. He looked at me guiltily. "Bastard," I said coldly.

"I couldn't find the condoms," he said. "I had to ask him."

I threw the door open and stormed out, spoiling the effect a bit by tripping over the blanket. I was furious. I didn't want Homer to know what we'd been doing. Once Homer knew, everyone'd know. The only good thing about Lee telling him was that it kept me awake
through my whole sentry- turn. I spent the time having imaginary conversations with Lee, telling him what I thought of him. Anger's good like that.

I calmed down eventually with Lee. I could see how it would have happened, his telling Homer, although I still wished he hadn't. But I quite enjoyed the way he hung about, looking so embarrassed and guilty, for a little while anyway. He deserved to suffer a bit.

All in all though, I felt pretty good. A bit sore occasionally when I moved the wrong way, but pretty good. I was watching myself all day, wondering if I had changed, if I was a new person now. But nothing magic seemed to have happened. In one way I was relieved, but in another I was sorry that I'd never be a virgin again. It was one of those steps: once you've taken it, there's no going back.

One thing that I hadn't expected was the sense of being alive that I felt all day. It was strange but nice. I think it was a reaction to all the death and deterioration that had surrounded us for so long. Now I'd done something positive and loving, that wasn't destructive. That made a big change from the way we'd been living. I know babies are a nuisance, and having them is meant to be eleven on a pain scale of one to ten, but I did have
a little daydream about maybe having a few, one day, in fifty years or so.

I just had a feeling that people like us had to keep life moving forward.

The time was to come though when I found myself doing something cold-bloodedly destructive again.

Fi and I were having a prowl that night through the streets of Wirrawee. We were heading for Fi's place. She wanted to see her house, to pick up a few things, and to make herself feel good (or bad) by walking through its deserted rooms. Fi's parents, being solicitors, had heaps of money, and they lived in the best part of Wirrawee, a big old house in a street of big old houses up on the hill. We didn't hurry to get there. We must have been in the mood to take risks. It was early to be out, but we wanted some fresh air. Although it had been raining all day again, and although the streets gleamed with puddles, it wasn't raining when we left the music teacher's house. The cloud was low and that kept the temperature up a bit. We sneaked along for a few blocks, going from garden to garden, so we didn't have to spend much time on footpaths. When we got to Jubilee Park we settled into the band pavilion and talked, looking out across the unmown grass and the weed-ridden flower beds. The first thing that was obvious was that Fi knew what I'd done with Lee.

"How'd you know?" I said.

"Homer told me."

"Oh, he would! I was so burned off at Lee for telling him. Anyway, I thought you and Homer weren't having too many intimate conversations these days."

"Mmm, well, it's not like it used to be. But we still get on OK. I don't think he's into long-term relationships."

"I hardly seem to have talked to him for ages. Most of my conversations are with you and Lee."

"Must have been a pretty good conversation with Lee this morning."

"Get out of it! It just happened, OK? Don't give me a hard time."

"Sounds like Lee gave you a hard time."

"Oh, excuse me!"

"Was it good?"

"Mmm, not bad. Some of it was fantastic. The actual, you know, was a bit awkward. It'll be better next time."

"So there'll be a next time?"

"I don't know! Well of course there will eventually. But I'm not saving that I'm going to do it every night."

"Did it hurt?"

"A bit. Nothing too terrible."

"It sounds so messy," said Fi, who always wanted life to be like a magazine. "Was there heaps of blood?"

"No! It wasn't, like, agony. Some of it, the first bit, hurt, and I was nervous, but after that there were some nice feelings. Lee didn't last long. But I still think it's better for the guy, the first time anyway."

"Are you sure it was his first time?"

"Yes! He didn't know much."

"Is he..." Fi went into heaps of giggles, difficult, as we were talking in whispers, surrounded by the damp quiet darkness. "Is he...how big is he?"

"I knew you'd ask that! I didn't get out a tape measure you know."

"Yes, but..."

"He's big enough, believe me. I don't know what the average is, but he'd be up to it."

We both got the giggles then.

At ten o'clock we snuck on up the hill towards Turner Street. It wasn't till we got to the last corner that we had any idea things had changed.

There were about twelve houses in the street and all had lights on. There were even four streetlights. Two houses seemed to have lights in every room but the others were only showing one or two. Fi stood there making little whining noises in the back of her throat, like a puppy that's been hurt. I couldn't believe it. It was like coming on a scene from Disneyland, or walking into Sideshow Alley. It seemed like a kind of fairyland. The only trouble was that for us this was no fairyland. This was dangerous. I pulled Fi back, and we retreated behind a tree.

"What do you think?" I asked her.

She shook her head, tears in her eves, a sob in her voice. "I hate them. What are they doing here? Why can't they just go back where they came from?"

We watched for nearly an hour. Occasionally a soldier came out of one house and went into another. We were going to move in closer and have a better look, but as we started we heard a vehicle coming up the hill. We ducked back behind our tree. A large, late model jaguar cruised past and turned into Turner Street. In its headlights I noticed something else: that there were sentries posted inconspicuously outside a couple of the houses. We were very lucky that we hadn't gone sneaking along there. The Jaguar stopped outside Fi's neighbours', a
brightly lit two-storey white wooden house with a high gable. As it stopped, a sentry came trotting out of the bushes and opened one of its rear doors, saluting a man in uniform who got out. Although this man wore jungle greens like everyone else, his peaked cap distinguished him from them. He was an officer, and we began to realise what the houses were being used for. This was the Executive Suite of Wirrawee. Snob Hill was still Snob Hill.