As Time Goes By: Room 8 at Downie's Inn

(All the usual disclaimers goes here.)

AS TIME GOES BY:
Room 8 at Downie's Inn


It had been a beautiful Sunday in the country. Lionel had a thirty-six hour pass and didn’t have to be back in the Barracks until noon Monday. Jean had signed out for the whole day and didn't have to be back at the Middlesex Hospital until seven o’clock Monday morning. The weather was gorgeous and the sky was the perfect shade that exists only in paintings and memories. The trip to Buckinghamshire had been made in Lionel’s Austin 7 that was now parked next to Downie’s Inn where Jean and Lionel were having dinner.

When Lionel returned to the table, he sat down and poured more wine for them both and picked up his glass. Jean noted the look on his face and became concerned; he looked as if he were going to tell her something very serious. “Jean.” He gulped some of his wine. “Jean.”

“Yes, Lionel?” Oh God. He’s going to give me the push! Jean felt like crying.

He put his glass aside and took Jean’s hands in his and his voice dropped barely above a whisper. “I just checked and they have a room and it’s number eight and will you, I want to be with you, will you please stay the night with me here?”

It came out in a rush but Jean heard every word he said and turned a beet red. She ducked her head. “Yes. Yes, Lionel, I will.”

He hadn’t realized it but Lionel had been holding his breath waiting for her answer; he breathed out and a huge grin appeared on his face. He picked up her hands and kissed them. If anyone in the dining room had noted the young couple in the corner, they would have seen two faces flushed with embarrassment and wonder.

Lionel called the waitress over and ordered the first of what seemed like an endless number of cups of coffee for them both. Finally emboldened enough, Lionel paid the bill and took Jean’s arm and they walked to the staircase.

Lionel said “I’ll be up in a moment; I need to . . . do something first”. He gestured vaguely towards the front desk as he handed Jean the key to Room 8.

“Alright”, Jean said and walked to the first floor feeling a bit confused. She entered the room and noted its bed, wardrobe, and the patterned yellow wallpaper. Jean put the key on the dresser but made sure the door was unlocked so that Lionel would be able to enter. Taking her handbag she went into the bathroom. Setting her purse on the edge of the basin, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. I wonder if I’ll feel any differently in the morning? She removed her belt and hung it on the hook behind the bathroom door; her skirt, blouse and slip followed. Standing there in her underclothes, she was at a loss. Then stockings, suspender belt and underwear joined the rest of her clothes on the hook. She stood there, naked, with her arms clasped about her; she was a little bit cold, a little bit nervous, and yet full of anticipation. Jean looked at her body in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw. She cupped her breasts and her nipples immediately began to harden and a very familiar tingling began between her legs. Jean opened her purse and removed her hairbrush; she brushed her hair so that it fell smooth and neat.

Lionel entered the room and, not seeing Jean, panicked. Where is she? Did she leave? “Hello?” Lionel called.

Jean hadn’t heard him enter the room and his call made the hairbrush drop from her hand to the floor. “Hello” she answered so softly she barely heard her own voice. “Hello”, louder.

Hearing her voice, Lionel calmed down. She’s only in bathroom; of course. He stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his socks, removed his belt and trousers, unknotted his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. Lionel turned to put his clothes on the chair and was startled to see a man in the room; in a flash he recognized his own reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

Putting the brush back in her purse, she reached for the doorknob but hesitated. Her slip hung from the hook; she reached for it and put it on. Wearing it made her feel less vulnerable than walking naked out of the bathroom. Jean opened the door and crossed into the room. Lionel looked up and stood still even as his hands held his shirt open. A breath escaped him.

“Ah, there you are.”

“Yes, here I am”, she said. There was a moment of silence.

“What did you have to do downstairs?” she asked.

Lionel blushed and opened his mouth twice before he was able to speak. “I… I…I had to get something.”

They stood there, a few feet apart, not moving, hardly breathing. Lionel’s hands gripped his shirttails; Jean’s arms were behind her back, hands twined and clasped together.

I can’t believe we’re here, he thought.

Jean shivered and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m a bit nervous”.

“I am too”.

But the words gave him courage and he moved to Jean, taking her in his arms. She buried her face against his neck. Lionel’s response was readily apparent, straining against the tightly woven cotton of his briefs. Gently, tentatively, they kissed. They moved apart slightly, looking intently at each other, trying to read the other’s mind. Lionel wrapped his arms around Jean, firmly, and he held her close to him as they kissed again.

“I love you.” They repeated it over and over. They rubbed their bodies against each other, his cotton-bound erection poking her. He teased her silk-clad breasts, cupping them, running his hands across the nipples, squeezing them tightly; Jean slid a hand into his underwear and held him then began to stroke him, making him groan with pleasure. Oh, God please don’t let me fall over he thought as he removed his y-fronts. He gathered the hem of her slip and raised it to her waist, letting his hands linger at the warm, inviting vee of her legs.

“Don’t let go of me.”

“I have to, to get my slip off.”

With a few swift motions, he pulled her slip over her head and shrugged off his shirt. Lionel took Jean’s hand and led her to the bed. Their only experience with each other had been in the front seat of Lionel’s very small Austin 7. They’d touched each other beneath their clothes and had learned how to give each other pleasure with their hands. Now, their hearts beat faster as they explored each other’s bodies, touching, kissing, tasting. Jean was fascinated by his erection that moved of its own accord. A drop of fluid appeared at the tip of the knob and she bent her head to catch it with her lips. The unfamiliar taste pleased her and she let her tongue slide around the tip.

“I think I’m going to explode,” Lionel groaned. He fumbled for his trousers and withdrew something from a pocket. A French letter; he opened it and put it on. He slid down to lie next to Jean; there was a flutter in his stomach as he rolled over and on top of her. He held her breast and taking a nipple in his mouth he gently sucked; Jean moaned in pleasure and parted her legs. As Lionel entered her, Jean gave a small gasp and winced. Worried, he stopped. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and smiled encouragement at him and wrapped her legs around his waist drawing him in closer. A wave of excitement swept over him and he began to move within her.

“Oh, Lionel!”

“Jean!”

Instinct took over and he moved faster, thrusting in and out of Jean’s welcoming body. Soon, she began to enjoy the sensations and the heat that built up between her thighs and in her belly.

“Yes! Oh Yes! Aahh!” Jean cried out.

Lionel climaxed just as she began to shudder with pleasure. “Oh God! Aahh! Oh yes” Lionel echoed. “Yes!” he called out, over and over until they both lay still.

Eventually their breathing returned to normal, the sheen of perspiration that coated them both began to dry, and the hair at the base of Lionel’s neck curled as it dried.

“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.” He desperately wanted her to believe him.

“You didn’t hurt me. I just didn’t know what to expect.” Jean parted her legs and pulled Lionel on top of her.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispered, stroking her face, touching her eyes and lips; he brushed his face against her breasts, holding them, teasing them with his fingers and tongue. Jean sighed with pleasure at being touched so gently and lovingly. Lionel moved to the end of the bed and began kissing her feet and sucking her toes; she twisted in delight as a sharp blade of pleasure cut through her. Like Hansel he left a trail of kisses from her ankles to the top of her thighs and the silky hair that was wet with her pleasure. With his eyes closed, he slowly rubbed his face against her. “So soft” he murmured. Gently his tongue began to probe the sensitive flesh and she arched her hips to meet his open mouth.

“Deeper.”

Lionel smiled as she moved against him, her breath coming faster as his tongue went deeper. He found her clitoris and took it between his lips and sucked the tender nub.

“Yes. More. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” A wave of pleasure washed over her, her muscles contracting, her hips moving faster and faster against Lionel’s face. Lionel’s hands went under her buttocks and he pulled her even closer; she held his head tightly, pressing him deeper into her body. “I feel like I’m on fire. Oh Lionel, Lionel.” Faster and faster her hips moved and her stomach did a lovely somersault, and her vaginal muscles clenched and contracted and deep inside her the most exquisite pleasure released itself; she twisted and cried out in ecstasy, her body writhing in pleasure.

Lionel held her so close he could hear her heart beating. He murmured over and over in her ear, “O, my love, my sweet.”

“I love you, Lionel.”

Holding fast to each other, they drifted off to sleep.