I awoke to sun streaming through cracks in the curtains in a dense emotional fog. I had slept the sleep of the comatose. Where was I? These were strange surroundings. The memories of the night before flooded back. I felt the warmth of the woman's body close to mine. She was curled up in the foetal position, her back pushed tight on my chest. It was Rosie. I would never forget
that
night.
I pulled away gently so as not to disturb Rosie who seemed to be sleeping the sleep of angels, her breathing slow and steady.
Where was the bathroom? I thought. I needed it badly. I lifted myself from the bed without making a sound. The cottage was arranged along a single hallway and the bathroom was adjacent to the bedroom. Like Rosie, it smelled of Chanel and expensive bath oils.
I decided to take a quick shower. I was sure Rosie would not mind. I tested the temperature of the water before climbing into the cubicle. It was steaming hot. I wondered about the time, the position of the sun in the sky suggested it was later than I thought. I let the water pour down on me, closed my eyes and imagined standing in a tropical waterfall.
In another part of the house, I could hear the sound of running water and a woman singing. Although a little out-of-tune and slightly off-key, the singing was as happy as the sun shining on your face on a warm summer's day. It was Rosie.
I was daydreaming happily when the noise of the bathroom door opening startled me.
"Good morning, John," said Rosie cheerfully. "I thought I heard you in here so I brought some clean towels.
"Come down to the kitchen and have breakfast when you're ready. And if you're not ready for breakfast, then I hope you're ready for me," she said jokingly.
"Oh Rosie!" I exclaimed and laughed. "You're incorrigible!"
"Huh! Incorrigible, eh? And you thought that I was just an old hen past her nesting date not so long ago!" she said, clucking like a hen for effect.
"That's exactly what I mean by incorrigible too. Will you ever forgive my stupid notions about older women? I am really so very sorry," I said.
"I know I got it completely wrong and you more than adequately demonstrated that to me last night," I apologised again and I meant every word.
I was scrubbing myself in a totally deranged way so that I could not remember which part of me I had washed and which I had missed. The thought of making love to Rosie had caused my cock to stand to attention again. I was worse than distracted and as I floundered about in the shower. Rosie stood there with a broad grin across her face.
"You do look as though you need help in there,' she said, 'but as I've already had one shower this morning I'll pass on that for now, wonderful though the opportunity might be."
With those words she left the bathroom wearing her bath-towel sarong and a silly grin. I heard her singing her way down the hall.
Her warm humour was infectious. I thought more about her work as a counsellor. She seemed like a natural healer.
Wrapping a soft peach-coloured towel around my waist, I made my way down the hall towards the smell of burning toast and what sounded like a comedy programme playing on the radio. I stopped to listen to the radio for a moment. It was the 'News Quiz', a programme that usually went out at Saturday lunchtime. It could not be that late, I thought. I had slept soundly but surely not for that long. But then thinking back to the night before, it
was
very late before we even thought of sleep. The memories of the night brought back that tingling in my loins again.
Rosie was cooking something at the hob in the kitchen. The kitchen ran across the far end of the house with French doors out to a beautiful wild country garden. The ceiling had been opened up to the sloping roof with old wooden oak beams crossed diagonally in the void.
"What's cooking, ma'am?" I asked. "Whatever it is, it smells delicious."
"I thought we'd have brunch seeing as it's so late," she said, beating gently at some eggs. "I'm making us some scrambled eggs and smoked salmon."
"Mmm one of my favourites and I'm ravenously hungry too," I said salivating at the thought of food. "What's the time anyway?"
"I bet you are. After your virtuoso performance last night, you
should
be hungry," she replied, "and it's about ten to one.
"So how about a good morning kiss at least?" she asked.
She put her head to one side and pouted.
"I'm waiting," she said.
I took Rosie in my arms and drew her close. She was wearing a soft towelling bathrobe. I still sported my wraparound towel. Rosie smelled of fresh soap and skin cream. I raised her chin gently with my fingers and looked into those lively blue eyes. I bent to kiss her. Our lips met, not in the hunger and wanton passion of the previous night, but in a soft and loving caress. Our tongues softly glided and stroked the other. In the gentleness, one could feel the longing of two souls joined in a moment, then the growing awakening of desire. The feeling of my tongue gently invading the warm softness of Rosie's mouth took me to that other place. My cock rose quickly in the warm sensuousness of the moment. I know Rosie could feel it as she moved to press her stomach against me, pressing firmly onto my hardness.
Our kiss ended and Rosie stayed in our embrace pressed tightly to me. She had closed her eyes and I leant to tenderly kiss her eyelids. I showered her face with the same small gentle kisses.
"Mmm that's so wonderful. I don't want you to stop," she said, "but I fear you must or the eggs will burn!"
"It's okay. Let's eat something. We can devour each other later," I joked.
"I'd rather have you anytime," she said, "but we do need to eat for energy and I need lots of energy right now."
Rosie finished cooking and we sat at the large rustic wooden table made out of old oak planks. Rosie's serving of our brunch was about as disorganised as my earlier performance in the shower. I could tell she was distracted and so was I. She recharged the toaster and I ate like a starving wolf. I felt incredibly hungry.
Rosie looked on in amusement as I scoffed what must have been my fourth slice of toast.
"Isn't it amazing?" she said. "How healthy good sex makes us feel.
"I feel like I'm glowing with wellbeing this morning. I feel happy, healthy and complete. I haven't had sex for years and last night I had the best sex of my entire life. It made me feel so good…like a whole person again."
She paused for thought.
"You know, I'm sorry to sound like the shrink-wrap I am, but Freud had it absolutely right. Living in some void of sexual repression does us no good at all. It makes us sick. If it doesn't drive us to do crazy things then it just makes us sick at heart. So what goes wrong?" she said.
"Rosie, I'm with you on that one. It's what I believe too but all sorts of things go wrong," I said.
"Either we live in aloneness like you, or else we get caught up in emotional double binds and twists and turns with our loved ones that just do us harm. We lose the plot, I suppose," I added.
"Have you lost the plot?" she asked.
"Yes, me too," I replied. "I've got caught up in that world where money and material stuff controls what I do both in and out of my marriage.
"And by the way, you weren't the only one to have the best sex of their lives last night. I did too."
I caught Rosie's eye and returned her smile.
