Man Of Few Words

Chapter 85

We ate a civilised feast for two at my dining room table. The first time I've used it for eating in a long while. I refused to move the A-Team train set out of the way. In fact, I switched it on so that it was doing circuits around a big bowl of vegetable Pad Thai in the middle of the table. I switched it off after a few minutes though, as the whirring noise got a bit annoying.

After we'd eaten what seemed like half of all the food between two of us, Inge pushed her chair away from the table, leaned back and undid the belt and buttons on her jeans.

"I've lived for thirty seven years," she began before interrupting herself with a soft, almost silent burp, "And I've been slim that whole time."

She breathed out heavily.

"Until now! What have you done to me, David?"

I didn't answer at first. I was concentrating very hard on keeping a fart in.

I peered over at her plate. As I did so, the fart made a break for it. If Inge did hear anything, she ignored it. There was a single noodle on Inge's plate, covered in a thick coating of spicy peanut sauce.

"You haven't finished."

Inge picked up her fork and poked at the noodle with it,

"You eat it."

"I put my heart and soul into ordering that for you. It's yours!"

She wound the noodle around her fork, brought it up to her mouth, then suddenly flicked it at me. It stayed on the fork though, but she persisted, eventually managing to launch the noodle onto the top of my head, and spattering me with flecks of sauce into the bargain.

Neither of us laughed. The noodle slipped off my head and landed in my lap.

"You're dirty," observed Inge, quite correctly. "I want to wash you."

I smiled. "You think you can actually stand up?"

She said nothing as she slowly got to her feet, pulling her jeans up but not fastening them. Then she walked over to stand behind me and placed her arms over my shoulders and down the front of my body. From there, she kissed me on the top of the head.

"When you said you were going to wash me, I didn't think you meant sucking spicy sauce off the top of my head."

"I didn't," she said without laughing, but I hope she was smiling at least. "Come on."

She patted me gently on the chest, then took my hand. I was then lead to the bathroom and undressed while my ingenious bath ran itself. Inge washed me in the same way she had undressed me. Not like she was fussing over someone who couldn't look after themselves. Not at all. It was more ritualistic. It was a mutually understood statement of care and of intimacy. There was something unmistakably feminine in the way she touched me. It made me feel like a man. All despite the fact that, on the face of it, I was doing something that I hadn't done since early childhood – getting washed by a fully-clothed woman sitting next to the bath.

It was while she was very softly and very patiently drying me that I felt something like the beginning of an erection stirring. But it didn't amount to anything. I decided to ignore the instinct to be disappointed, and instead took it as a positive sign. If a woman can make me something like that even that faintly and momentarily, then I'm not ready to die yet.

Once I had been dried off and wrapped in a fresh, clean dressing gown, Inge undressed and took a long shower while I watched. Yet again echoing the night we spent at her place, there was no self-consciousness or awkwardness, but she didn't overtly put on a show either. She just seemed perfectly able to tune in to the voyeur in me. I've always thought that women are at their most sexy when they're not trying; when there's some little accidental occurrence that obsesses you for just a moment. And watching Inge shower was like witnessing a whole series of those little accidents. It was like she was somehow able to act them out on purpose. Again I felt a few stirrings deep within the dressing gown, but more than that I felt happiness. Happiness of a plain, uncomplicated kind.

I didn't dry Inge, but she did let me touch, kiss, and admire her wet, naked body for a few minutes before she complained of a chill and wrapped herself in warm towels.

She spent the night here. I hope she slept as well as I did. I vaguely remember hearing her leave to go to work, but I think she was careful not to disturb me. I've had that feeling of peace again all morning. If I refuse to fear the crash, perhaps it won't happen this time.