Adam took his hand from the wheel, and ran it slowly up Jenny’s bare leg, under her sheer, flowing skirt. He stroked her thighs, feeling her warmth fill his fingers and run into his palm. Jenny’s long blonde hair was loose, flying in the wind created by the car’s movement. It was a perfect day, the sun high and dazzling, reflecting off the crystalline blue sea far below them. Adam drove quickly and with assurance, the hired sports car weaving along the ribbon of road between the sea and the mountains. Jenny sat above him, on the back of the car, her feet dangling just above the leather seats. She was laughing, both at his behaviour, which she found outrageously wonderful, and at the pure intoxicating joy of her first days without inhibitions.
Jenny. She repeated the name to herself. She had always been Jennifer, had never considered shortening her name. However, she had never considered releasing her hair from its tight bun, or leaving her thick brown tights at home. Just thirty-two, she had aged before her time. Adam had changed all that. Tall, with brown puppy-dog eyes and a swimmer’s strong build, he exuded confidence. He was the son of the owner and director for whom Jennifer worked as a secretary. Adam noticed her, saw the beauty hidden behind the white make-up and the formal, old-fashioned blouses. It was Adam who had created Jenny. Slowly at first, with a suggestive comment, with good-natured flirting. He had taken her to an expensive restaurant, complimented her, charmed her, and, after returning her to her modest flat, kissed her softly before leaving.
Later he had taken her for picnics in the country, for walks by the sea. She had spent an evening in his penthouse flat; bright, modern, expensive, everything that Jennifer secretly desired. Gently he had peeled away her formal layers, encouraging her to change her thick glasses for contact lenses, and was rewarded with a pair of deep blue eyes that sparkled when she smiled. He had bought her modern clothes, as gifts, that replaced her dowdy working clothes. Later he paid for a trip to a beauty salon, where he persuaded her to layer her hair, to wear it lose around her shoulders, bringing a new life to her narrow face. When she herself bought a burgundy lipstick that showed off the fullness of her lips, Adam knew he had achieved his goal. He had made Jennifer young again, made her free and happy. He had created Jenny.
That evening, he came to her flat, and told her to pack, just a few things. When she protested, she learnt that he had arranged for a three week holiday, finally using her holiday allowance from the previous year. He drove her to the airport, and they drank champagne in the first class lounge, before boarding a plane to Mexico. They were now driving along the deserted and majestically beautiful Pacific coastline. They had no planned destination, no hotel room booked. Adam had left the maps with a confused Hertz salesman. For the first time in her life, this appealed to Jenny. Her daydream abruptly ended as Adam removed his hand from her legs, using both hands to swing the car from the road along a narrow track leading steeply down the cliff. As Jenny peered around the bend in the road, she saw a perfect cove of the whitest sand. With a tiny thrill of anticipation, Jenny realised that the moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Adam lay a blanket down on the beach and gestured that she should sit. She did so, feeling with surprise the silk on her calves. Not even the itchiness of wool would ruin this evening. The sun was setting over the sea as Adam sat behind her, there was a slight chill in the air, a relief after the heat of the day. He laid his legs outside of hers, pulling her to him, creating a cocoon into which she burrowed. Her newly-manicured nails gently scratched his forearm as it wound around her waist. She admired his muscled arm, the impression of controlled strength, the soft fuzz of dark hair around his wrists. His other hand caressed her side, brushing the outside of her breasts. The lightness of his touch, coupled with the slight chill in the air seemed to elevate her sensual perception. She watched, as if from a distance, as his hand encircled the fullness of her breasts, causing her nipples to harden beneath her scarlet bikini top. Jenny pressed back against him, happy for him to explore her body, happy to be taken. He stroked the top of her breast, pushing the material away as he ran his fingers across her milky flesh.
They did not hurry. How long they sat neither of them knew, but before Jenny moved, the sun had been vanquished and they were illuminated by the narrower, subtler light of the moon. The warm Pacific water had risen through their cove as he removed her bikini, tossing it aside before touching at last her naked breasts. He had licked a finger and run it across her nipple, the evening breeze drying it with a delicious coolness. Jenny sat in his embrace for as long as she could make herself wait, stretching an arm behind her to run her fingers through the wiry hair that ran down his chest in a fine line. She squeezed his thighs, the skin molten above the manliness of his hardened body.
