Coming of Age

Once inside his flat he went straight into his bedroom and came out with a cotton kaftan to give her. Bernadette smiled weakly. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower to warm up the water. He brought in fresh towels and hung the kaftan on the back of the bathroom door.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said kindly.

Paul poured them both a scotch. He was not to know that she never drank hard liquor.

Bernadette came out of the shower wearing the kaftan and with her hair wrapped in a towel. She looked beautiful. She took the drink and sat on the lounge.

Paul found it hard to focus on what he wanted to say, and what needed to be said. She looked so desirable to him. He felt the warmth in his stomach and in his diaphragm and it spread into his shoulders, and down through his arms. He was conscious of this feeling and instantly reacted with scepticism. It must be the scotch kicking in, he told himself. Seamlessly he returned to the subject raised in the car.

"How it explains a lot is that it's now clear that Miranda set up that business in the driveway and had it filmed and planted the tape so her husband would find it. She used me to get back at him. It's obvious now," said Paul.

"Their marriage is corrupt, and has been the entire time I've known her, which is about two years," said Bernadette. "But its never been an issue before this." Paul and Bernadette spoke at length about Miranda and her outrageous indiscretions. Paul continued to talk about his part in the affair while coyly omitting any references to actual sex. It was left unsaid yet mutually understood. As was Bernadette's role in the whole imbroglio.

They were sitting on his lounge and Paul noticed Bernadette looked utterly drained of her usual fire. She had drunk three glasses of his whisky and she was heavily subdued. He wanted her badly. Usually, she was such an intense, high energy kind of woman and she often overwhelmed Paul but here she was on his lounge wearing nothing more than his thin kaftan and she was defenceless and vulnerable. She drew her legs up under her and turned on her side with her head resting on the armrest. Paul handed her a cushion.

"I'll order some take away from the local Indian," Paul offered, getting up and needing some space.

"I couldn't eat anything, but I love Indian, just for the record. But go ahead for yourself. Is it okay if I sleep on your sofa tonight?" she said, stretching her legs right out and settling in to it. "I'm completely stuffed."

"Be my guest," Paul answered and got a blanket from his bed. He considered her from the safety of his kitchenette as he waited on the phone to place his order. He noticed that his home felt different, full of warmth. He thought how she had sacrificed for him. Paul sensed that the worst thing he could do was thank her. Or hit on her. There was something permanent about her being here in his flat. As if she had always been here.

By the time he had ordered the lamb madras, the aloo matar and some dahl in a hushed voice he returned to the lounge room and found Bernadette asleep. Paul went over to his computer and started working. He had a short country tour approaching on the weekend and he needed to finalise accommodation numbers by email. When he finished he began surfing the net. He came across a site that specialised in his favourite big band, the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis band, and downloaded the track "The Raven Speaks". To check it, he played the file quietly through his computer speakers. When it had

finished he heard Bernadette stirring.

"Paul, get your trombone and play 'Caravan' for me." He was a little embarrassed and he laughed it off. He had chosen trombone at school, probably unconsciously, because it was not a instrument that was often used for soloing. Still, he would meet her request as best he could and the neighbours could get stuffed. Bernadette lay still on the lounge and smiled sleepily as he played trombone for her.

"Thank you, goodnight,' she said when he had finished and she closed her eyes. Paul leant down over her and kissed her on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams," he said. He was surprised at himself being able to respond to her in this way, it seemed natural enough without any of his usual tension. He went to bed wearing two sets of pyjamas for warmth because he had given Bernadette his entire bed covering. He eventually settled down but couldn't get to sleep for over an hour because he was afflicted with a throbbing erection that he wouldn't touch. He woke up with it and went straight to the bathroom. He noticed that Bernadette was gone. There was note on the kitchen bench that simply said, Thank You. The lump that he had in his pyjamas had now moved to his throat. He felt something for her. He was alone again.

And a deep indigo penumbra embraced Paul Nicholson's coming of age.

8.

All day Paul Nicholson struggled to concentrate on his work. He frequently found himself daydreaming about Bernadette in his cotton dress on his lounge the night before and he felt strange in his stomach and he became erect just thinking about her. He got all his school business done by midday then went to the offices of Mathers and Turner just after lunch.

"So the matter is sorted now," said Ruby Turner with a professional tone. "All the threats to your job by the persons of interest in this affair have been discreetly addressed."

"The husband has been dealt with by a friend of mine," Paul said.

"Yes, we've had the marital home under surveillance and noted the comings and goings of Madame Metale, or at least her in costume only," Ruby added laconically.

"It's very difficult. I don't know what to do about my friend, the one who dressed up," said Paul with an uncertain voice and aware that he was speaking outside the brief of Ruby Turner's involvement. He actually felt desperately in need of some advice. For her part Ruby Turner was not in the habit of getting emotionally caught up in the affairs of her clients. However, she was a woman.

"Women love symbolic gifts," she offered in her most reticent manner. Paul settled the account and heartily thanked Ruby Turner for all her good work. He went straight to a jewellery shop he knew in Chatswood and asked for help from the most mature sales woman in the shop.

"I'm after something for a special friend that carries the meaning of warmth, of fire," said Paul, beside himself with what he was hearing himself say.

"Amber," said the saleswoman immediately, and she began producing necklaces, pendants, earrings, bracelets and rings, containing the grainy and translucent gem. Paul had no idea how to choose a piece.

"A bracelet or ring is a piece of jewellery that a woman wears for her visual pleasure as well as to add grace to her appearance," said the sales woman helpfully. "A necklace adds elegance to a woman's appearance but it is something she sees out of the corner of her eye only, so she enjoys a vicarious pleasure from wearing it and sensing how people are reacting to it. Necklaces play upon the subconscious mind of the wearer. Also, they're worn on a highly sensitive part of the female body." Paul was amused that jewellery could have such a sensuous effect and recalled the abrasive experience of wearing the diamante dog collar as part of the Dolly Parton costume.

"I'll take the necklace please," said Paul without asking the price. It came in a soft velvet box shaped like a miniature treasure chest. He went straight home and called Bernadette on her mobile.

"It's Paul. How are you?"

"Yes, I'm okay, thanks for asking," answered Bernadette.

"I'm picking you up at 6 tonight and we're going for dinner," said Paul. Never in his life had he been so direct with a woman, on any level.

"I've got a meeting tonight," she answered. Paul's heart dropped. "But it'll be finished at 8."

At 7.55pm Paul parked in Smail Street and waited for Bernadette to appear. It was a little fresh outside and she appeared from the foyer putting on a jacket and she huddled for a moment with her colleagues to talk briefly in a group before they went their separate ways. Bernadette ran over to Paul's car and got in. He leaned over straight away and took her right cheek in his left hand and kissed her on the lips. She smiled warmly.

"It's roasting in here," she said, removing her jacket. She was wearing a floral print silk blouse with a deep neckline and a skirt.

"You look lovely," said Paul. They dined together privately, talked easily about work and shared observations. They both enjoyed each other's company and it was effortless.

At the end of the meal Paul said simply, "I want you to come home to my place and stay with me." She reached over and touched his left hand.

"Yes, I want to," she said simply. They talked continuously on the way back to his flat and then became silent when they arrived at his front door.

Paul led her into the inner sanctum of his bedroom. Not even his best friend Lachlan had been past The Door That Is Always Closed. Paul had prepared the room for Bernadette. He had picked up all the dirty laundry that had perpetually lain all over the floor. He removed the Ralph magazines that had fallen behind the bed and threw them out for recycling. He had vacuumed the carpet. He put fresh sheets on the bed and made up a second pillow using a cushion in a fresh pillow slip. That afternoon he had opened the blinds for the first time since he had moved in to the flat and opened the window and aired the room. When Bernadette arrived home with him the bedroom door was wide open.

It was a small room with a three quarter size bed in one corner. There was a built-in wardrobe down one wall and Paul had musical instruments and other audio equipment in the remaining corner.

"Have a seat," he offered, referring to the bed. "I have something for you." Bernadette sat on Paul's bed and was smiling self consciously. He stood in front of her quite closely and he reached into his pocket and produced the velvet box, and showed her the necklace as he removed it.

"Your hand," said Paul, taking Bernadette's hand and placing it on his left breast. He kissed her on the cheek then his arms moved behind her to fasten the chain around her neck.

"I was told it's the colour of embers," he said shyly. "I'm colour blind, so I wouldn't know."

"It's beautiful, Paul, thank you. It's a gorgeous gift." She stood up and kissed him. He opened his lips a little and responded. They kissed deeply for some minutes then Bernadette took Paul's left hand and put it inside her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra and Paul, aroused, lent down and took her nipple into his mouth. Bernadette threw her head back and fell back into the weight of his arms. He tried to remove her shirt but came up against an invisible zip. She helped him. Paul's member was hard and throbbing in his trousers and Bernadette was dilated and wet. Her breath was short and she unbuttoned his shirt and he took it off.

They were both still standing beside his bed unclothed from the waist up. There was a slight hesitancy. They were both breathing heavily and knew that they wanted this more than anything. They kissed more desperately as they both struggled with their shynesses. Then Paul said,

"Take off your skirt and let me watch you." Bernadette was breathing in short gasps and her hands were shaking as she worked the button and zip. Finally the skirt dropped onto the carpet. Paul saw her standing before him wearing just the lace bikini pants. She looked so vulnerable but Paul was captivated by her contoured body with muscular tones and womanly curves.

"You are beautiful," he said, slightly embarrassed. He unfastened his belt and somewhat awkwardly removed his shoes, socks and trousers while Bernadette waited and watched him. She felt a small trickle running down the inside of her thigh as he clumsily pared down to his cotton boxers. When he was done he laughed awkwardly and she joined in. They both said very little.

He put both his hands on her hips and slowly ran them over the small of her back and buttocks. Bernadette lifted both her arms and hooked them around Paul's neck to allow him full access to her contours. He kissed her neck and ears and the place where the amber gem lay on her chest. He removed her lace bikini and his hardness pressed against the seam of his shorts. Bernadette moved back away from him and laid herself out on his bed for him to come to her. He took a moment to fully take in the visual splendour of her womanhood. He removed the last remaining item of clothing and bared himself to her in all his overweight nakedness. Paul could see her eyes were intense with wanting him. He lay himself gently on top of her and she opened herself to him. They made love slowly.

And the sun set on Paul Nicholson's coming of age. And the moon rose.