It was. He arrived with a woman and another man and they fell into intense conversation, only briefly interrupted by the ordering of food and drink.
‘A republican cell without a doubt,’ I said. ‘I kicked in some money to that cause. They’re probably eating it right now.’
Claudia laughed. ‘So you’re a republican. Well, well.’
I was onto my third glass of wine and emboldened. ‘I bet you are too. Admit it.’
‘Of course I am. I…’
It wasn’t the wine or the food or the atmosphere. Her every movement-the deft use of the chopsticks, the curve of her wide mouth, the lift of her heavy eyebrows-was having an effect on me. ‘Claudia, why…?’
In one smooth movement she put her chopsticks down and placed her right index finger over the slightly raised scar that runs from the left side of my chin up to my lower lip, the result of an uppercut delivered with a split glove by Clem Carter at the state junior amateur boxing titles. ‘No questions,’ she said. ‘Not now. Questions later. Drink some mineral water and eat some vegetables. The sambal’s a mite too hot for you.’
I gripped her hand and felt that it had a film of sweat on it like mine. I grinned at her.
‘We’re both sweating and the place is air-conditioned.’
‘It’s good for us. Clears the toxins from the system.’
‘Do you believe that?’
She laughed. More wisps of hair escaped. I wanted to tuck them back, and to touch that down running to her jawline.
We left at least one standard drink in the bottle, maybe two. We walked through the courtyard in front of the restaurant and sauntered up the main street towards the all-night parking station where I’d left the car. The cool air cleared my head and after a few metres I was alert and watchful. Claudia, walking very close, occasionally brushing me with her shoulder or hip, could feel it in me. ‘What’s the matter, Cliff?’
‘Just being careful. We’ve had a few incidents, remember?’
‘Mm. I was trying to forget all about it. All of it. But I suppose that’s impossible.’
Tentatively, I put my arm around her and squeezed gently and briefly. ‘Stay where you are as long as you can. I’ll do the worrying.’
She reached around and patted my chest. ‘Where’s the gun?’
It was back in the holster, near my left armpit. ‘Where it belongs.’
‘Have you used it much?’
‘No. As seldom as possible.’
‘That’s good. I hate guns.’
‘Me too.’
We reached the car park. It was one of the few places still around where you handed in your ticket and an attendant fetched your car. That’s why I’d used it. The Camry came up the ramp and I forked over some more money. The outing would be paid for by Cy Sackville who would in turn charge it up to Claudia. It presented me with a nice conundrum of etiquette that Emily Post probably couldn’t help with. I had more serious things to worry about, like where was this evening headed and how would my feelings for this woman affect the job I was supposed to be doing for her?
We didn’t talk much on the drive back to Kirribilli. Claudia asked if I minded her smoking in the car. She could have lit three at once as far as I was concerned and I almost told her so. She wound down the window and blew the smoke out discreetly. After stubbing the cigarette she opened the CD player and took out the disc.
‘Edith Piaf,’ she said. ‘Is this yours?’
‘It was in there when I picked up the car.’
She found the case in the glove box and laughed. ‘I remember this. It was a Nescafe give-away. You had to answer some dopey question. The first prize was a trip to Paris but they gave these away by the hundreds.’
‘Did you enter?’
‘No. I mentioned it to Julius. He said we could go to Paris anytime we wanted to. The next day he went out and bought a couple of Piaf CDs.’
She put the disc in the player and pressed the right buttons. The strong, vibrant voice filled the car as we turned into her street. I parked outside and she touched my arm.
‘Don’t turn off. I want to listen.’
Non, rien, rien
Non, Je ne regrette rien
‘You’ve got it all inside,’ I said.
‘Shush, this is better.’
Her head moved down onto my shoulder and we sat there on the looks-like-leather seats, listening to the music that evoked Paris in the rain and the incredible voice with all its hopeful spirit demolished by sadness and dashed hopes. By the end of the record her hand was lying between my legs, gripping my erection, and I’d cupped her right breast and was breathing in her perfume from her hair. It was probably French but could have been Serbo-Croatian for all I cared. There was a faint touch of mentholated tobacco in the mixture and there was nothing wrong with that either.
Somehow we got out of the car when the music stopped and somehow I remembered to set its state-of- the-art alarm system and steering locking device. We were joined at the knee, leg, hip and shoulder as we went through the security gate. In her high heels, the height difference between us was minimal and the arm I had wrapped around her was enclosing warm, firm flesh under smooth, silky fabrics. Rampant erections are rare events for men in their late forties, but I was having considerable difficulty in walking.
By unspoken mutual consent, we kissed before she used her card to get through the door to the building. She tasted of wine, spices, tobacco and that other flavour that you’ve either been lucky enough to encounter or you haven’t. I ran my tongue over her big, thrusting teeth and then I felt her catch my lower lip in them and bite gently.
‘Claudia,’ I said with the whisper of breath I had at my command.
‘Don’t talk. Just come inside and fuck me.’
I held her hand as we went up the stairs and suddenly there was a kind of innocence along with the erotic charge, which only made it all the stronger. We went straight into the bedroom-big and minimally furnished with a queen-sized bed. A dim bedside light. We kissed until it hurt and then started to take our clothes off. She kicked off her shoes and pulled down her pantihose. She wore a skimpy white lace bra and lace panties to match. When I had my shirt, trousers and socks off she advanced and slipped her hand inside my underpants. I groaned and had trouble standing.
‘I haven’t got any condoms or anything,’ I muttered.
‘It’s all right, I have. I like your cock. Do you want to fuck me?’
‘Jesus, yes.’
She worked the underpants down and freed my hard cock. ‘How?’
‘Any way.’
She unfastened her bra. She had a light tan but her full, brown-nippled breasts were white. I slid my hand down her rounded belly past her navel and felt the soft hair beneath. Then my fingers were probing into her, opening her and feeling the heat and moisture. Her pants slipped down but whether I did it or she helped I don’t know. Then she was lying on the bed with her legs spread, with her hand still on my cock, pulling me down towards her.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Soon.’
Soon was a long time in coming but I didn’t object. We did most of the things with our hands and mouth that are available to do. She was eager and it had been a long time since I’d fucked and we almost blew it several times but managed to delay the pleasure and slow the pace. Eventually she crouched over me and lifted my hands onto her breasts.
‘I want to be on top. Do you mind?’
I was incapable of speech. I shook my head. She got a condom from a drawer in the bedside table, opened the package and rolled it on. She was in control, holding me in the right position and at the right angle for her to slide down onto me. The sweetness and warmth of it made me close my eyes. It was like being bathed in honey.
