FULFILMENT

A Family Affair, a novel by Bernard Preston.

BOOK ONE (of three)

D. KLEIN-JAN

(Keywords: Fulfilment, Bernard Preston, A Family Affair, Ankle fracture, Ankle joint pain, Is homosexuality wrong?)

They drove quietly home enjoying the leisure of another day off from the hard office grind, their bodies feeling invigorated and pleasantly tired. Janet hadn’t yet told Santie about the first flutterings. She parked the car in the garage, while Santie let herself into the apartment, heading for the fridge, pulling out some drinks.

‘Water, juice for you?’ she called as she heard Janet letting herself in the door. They each drank at least a litre of fluid after their long rides, and especially after the triathlons. They had stopped sweating by then, and headed off for the shower.

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The treat of a long, undisturbed Sunday morning shower after their long rides, had become one of the highlights of their weekend, learning to take pleasure in the small things early in their shared life. Santie loved letting Janet shampoo her long hair, and there were few things that Janet enjoyed more than the good hard scrub that her flat-mate gave her with the loofa. They soaked themselves luxuriously in the hot water, taking their time. Without no deadlines, the shower was definitely one of those little luxuries that had become important to them both. They had changed the water-saving spout, for a showerhead that gave a very full and wide spray so there was enough water for them both. Santie finished her scrub and gently used the sponge to massage Janet’s shoulders, moving slowly down to her buttocks and legs, staying away from the private areas.

‘Mm, that’s nice,’ murmured Janet. It was usually her turn to finish the ritual, so she soaped and gently massaged Santie’s long curly hair and scalp. Santie was the bigger of two, only a centimetre or two taller but considerably heavier in the shoulders and hips. They both had finely tuned, handsome bodies with hardly an ounce of fat. The product of hard work, they boasted to their friends when they were complimented, jealously. Santie’s face and hair were covered with suds, her eyes beginning to sting from some shampoo that was seeping through the lids, so she lifted her face to the jet of water, eyes tightly closed. Her face, with a deeply contented look, looked momentarily ever so inviting to Janet. Impulsively, emboldened by the Grammy vision, she stepped on her toes and gave her friend’s soapy mouth a quick kiss. Long expected, the moment, when it finally arrived, was quite unexpected. She gave a little gasp, but by the time she had wiped her face sufficiently to open her eyes, Janet had turned aside and was washing her own face.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, only you looked so beautiful with your face up like that, all covered with soapsuds.’

Santie dropped her hands onto her friend’s shoulders and, slipping her hand behind Janet’s head, gently drew her face towards her. The second kiss was light and exploratory, but it rapidly gained momentum and heat as they embraced. After a few seconds they stumbled apart, both unsure, nothing said, and feeling rather guilty. They finished their shower, drying off first the excess water with their facecloths, and stepped out into the bathroom to begin towelling down their tired, sore muscles.

The architect who designed their flat had quite different ideas to most of his colleagues. The bathroom had large frosted north-facing windows to which they had affixed a large Blue Crane transfer after the second pigeon had broken its neck against the pane. It was a big room, the sun streaming in on their steaming bodies as they dried themselves. Janet started her usual routine of drying her friend’s thick black hair with a dry towel and within seconds they were again kissing and holding each other, hugging, their hands beginning gently to explore, waiting for confirmation, and then not so gently as their shared passion began to sweep them away.

Suddenly Janet started laughing, almost hysterically. They were standing in the bright sunlight streaming through the large window, quite naked.

‘And now?’ she exclaimed, sheepishly grinning at Santie.

‘To bed, of course.’

‘To bed?’ Janet giggled.

‘Yes, isn’t that where lovers go?’ Santie shyly took her friend’s hand leading Janet to her own bedroom. It was a cool room on the south side of the house, so Santie pulled back the duvet, and they slipped together, still quite naked, under the covers, both equally unsure.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Janet.

‘I don’t know,’ said Santie.

They both giggled again, embarrassed. ‘In that blue movie we watched, the woman grabbed the guy’s ding-dong, but I don’t think you’ve got one!’ They shrieked.

‘I tell you what,’ said Santie after a moment’s silence. ‘You do to me what you think you would like me to do to you, and then we’ll reverse it.’

‘Okay, but I read somewhere that we shouldn’t talk.’

‘That’s bullshit. Mm, maybe you’re right. So, who’s going to start?’

‘I will!’ said Janet. Reliving her fantasies, she slid her arm under Santie’s neck, tracing her fingers along her friend’s chin and then kissing her deeply, her tongue instantly probing. As she found approval, with her other hand she ever so gently ran her fingers with feather lightness down Santie’s spine, counting the bumps out aloud. They laughed. Santie ran her hand with equal lightness up Janet’s abdomen, achieving a reflex shiver of delight. Reaching Janet’s breast, she gently tickled the nipple, instantly producing a deep sigh of pleasure.

‘Lovers. Is that what you said?’ whispered Janet, feeling Santie’s breath warm on her cheek. Gently she slid her fingers from breastbone to navel and, as she started to traverse farther, she too was rewarded with a little tremor of the muscles. Moving on, her forefinger searching for the softer parts, before tenderly sliding on down the line of Santie’s inner thighs. Santie gave a deep sigh of pleasure. Feeling her lusts rise she squeezed Janet’s right breast fiercely.

‘Ouch, that hurts!’

‘Ooh, sorry,’ said Santie, slightly changing her position so that she could gently nuzzle one of Janet’s nipples. Janet’s fingers had found a wondrously pleasurable spot and, as she started doing things deep inside, Santie found the need and her pleasure swiftly building.

‘More. Faster!’ she cried, as exquisite sensations spread down her thighs and deep inside her body, like nothing she had ever experienced. As Janet’s loving touch moved faster and deeper, Santie found herself building towards the summit of a totally unknown new peak, a North Face until, with little cries of delight, she exploded with an arching of her back and soul, throbbing waves of pleasure assaulting the previously untouched sense. Whilst the ascent had probably taken the best part of half an hour, abseiling from the summit took mere seconds. Santie was quite unaware that, during her climb up the mountains of the Moon, soaring into a new unexplored vast space of nothingness, she had again given Janet’s breasts a torrid time.

‘My God, Jan, that was the most beautiful experience I have had in twenty-five years of my life. Thank you, my darling, thank you, thank you,’ she whispered, letting out a long sigh.

Finally she opened her eyes, finding Janet’s smiling face. ‘Was that good, or was it good?’ Janet demanded.

‘The North Face of the Eiger. Finally conquered. Oh, Janet,’ Santie gently wept into her friend’s neck, ‘surely that was much better than Lady Chatterley’s; it was just an avalanche of beauty. I wonder how soon can we do it again?’

‘My turn first, remember.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry. I am so selfish.’

While Santie climbed and succumbed to the cruel, sweet beauty of the North Face at the first attempt, it was several months before Janet reached the summit. Frustratingly for them both, Santie could reach three or more orgasms in an evening, but Janet found the mountain unassailable.

Whilst Santie was smitten with guilt, “What’s wrong with me, Janet? What am I doing wrong? Why can’t I bring you the joy you have brought me?”

Janet was filled with misery. She knew that it had nothing to do with Santie. Santie had been gentle and loving, she had even tried biting her and almost brutalized her, trying everything they had read or seen in the films, all to no effect. Janet even tried faking it when she couldn’t make it, but Santie was not to be fooled.

‘The reason is in me, Santie. It’s got nothing to do with what you are, or are not, doing. I have stuff to work through.’

‘What kind of stuff.’

‘You know. Is this all wrong? What will my parents think? How far will their unconditional love stretch?’

‘It’s definitely not wrong but, yes, your parents will be shocked, I suppose. That’s something I will be spared. How are you going to tell them?’

‘I don’t know and I’m frightened to go back there. I had lots of wonderful teachers at St Catherine’s, but when we’re together like this, I am haunted by one of my favourite teachers. Mrs McCann taught us to work through all sorts of compromising situations, but never this one. She would be shocked rigid!’

Neither of them fully understood the reasons but finally, for no obvious reason, Janet one night found that she too could fly to the Moon and play amongst the stars. She hadn’t consciously considered her demons, or confronted them; it was just a matter of time. Neither of them was quite sure who was more relieved. It was a supreme a moment for Santie too when finally she discovered their shared orgasm was much more than her own private rapture. Frank Sinatra’s rendition of the old classic became their theme tune and they sang it together every time they had finished making love. Always one ended: Please be true, to which the other would respond, In other words, I love you.

The heat, the passion and the excitement of their new discovery lasted several months. At every private opportunity they kissed and touched and clutched at each other, albeit with considerable doubt until Janet had dealt with her guilt feelings. Janet moved into Santie’s double bed and the long nights were a wondrous thing to the young women, so long denied that essential part of their being. They found great delight in circumnavigating the moment of exaltation, keeping each other on the brink, sometimes for an hour or more. Gradually, however it found its proper perspective, as they started reflecting on the new status quo.

After all is said and done, there are moments that change our lives, offering new promises and making us revisit and question the past. Janet sent out messages into the ether to her old school friend. I wonder where you are, Gwen. Thank you for preparing me for today. One revealing kiss on a staircase had been such a moment, quite unexpected, and had changed everything. Santie’s thoughts were less thankful. The moments in question that changed her life, the confrontations with pricks both great and small, left her shuddering and gasping for breath, and eternally grateful for the prospect of a new future.

‘What’s happened to us, Janet?’ Santie asked one Sunday morning after their usual ritual of cycle, ice cream and shower, but now enjoying the new dimension of their shared intimacy.

‘We’ve fallen in love, Santie. Can that happen? Is it allowed to happen?’

‘It simply has happened, Janet,’ Santie said, gently stroking her friend’s buttocks, evoking a little shiver of delight. ‘As to whether it’s allowed to happen, all I can say is “stuff them” to those who say it can’t or shouldn’t. The Sams of this world. The past few months have been the happiest of my life, Janet, and the last weeks the most glorious. I wouldn’t swap you for Brad Pitt!’

Janet rolled over onto her side, giving her friend a slightly weepy smile, and they embraced long and ardently. ‘I’m sorry it took me a while, but I had to work through a lot of stuff.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘I still think that promiscuity is very wrong, but since … since we are in love ,’ she gasped as Santie pressed her tightly against her. Hesitated, she finished, ‘What do you think of a sort of wedding ceremony?’

‘A wedding! That would be fantastic! But who would we invite?’ This more soberly.

Janet nodded. ‘I don’t know either. Probably it would just bring a lot of troubles. Shall we just make some pledges to each other?’

‘And rings!’ said Santie excitedly. ‘Shall we go next Saturday and check out a few jewellers?’

‘Absolutely! A pregnant women must have a wedding ring! Otherwise, what will everyone say?’

To the outside world nothing changed. Friends noted how contented and happy Santie and Janet were, suspecting that perhaps something was afoot, but nobody said anything. Sam held her tongue at the office, even after she noticed the simple gold ring on Janet’s fourth finger, and their work life continued as before. Janet told Sam she was pregnant, but decided there was little to be gained by blurting out the circumstances. Sam, had heard in any case what all the gossips had to say. Janet still worried a little about what she was going to tell her parents, but Santie of course had none of those nightmares. Although she continued to see Maggie and Bob occasionally and phoned them quite regularly, she made no contact with her father. She returned the occasional letter she received from him, unopened, having no desire to re-establish the relationship or to hear of his remorse and sorrows. It was eight years since she had left home, eight years that had utterly and irrevocably changed her. There was no going back, especially now there was Janet. And, for better or for worse, a baby.

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