His hands came from her breasts, to glide down her chest, across her narrow hips to her thighs, her inner thighs. His hands pressed against her thighs, spreading her legs, opening her body more widely to his sight. His fingertips touched her, and caressed her flesh, and slowly the touch of him, the commanding touch of him, came up and further up until it touched her private place, and she felt her muscles tighten. Her head fell to the side, pressed itself against the sheets. She smelled him in those sheets. She smelled the manness of him. And she could smell the woman with the red hair. She could smell beneath her head the passions of her, the needs of her. She felt an almost instant hatred of her, an almost instant kinship with her. Did he command her, command her as she was commanded? Her dreams made such commands necessity. In her necessity he commanded her. He commanded her to respond. Her body responded with perfect obedience. Her. She put me off: she was just snowed under with lesson preparation and marking. I thought she was doing too much, but held my peace. After the third bridge night, with the kissing, I felt uncomfortable about it, having enjoyed it immensely, and decided I must see Penny. I needed her presence and her love to counter these erotic feelings. I wrote that night and posted it first class at the sorting office, asking to see her on Saturday or Sunday and to phone me to tell me which day. Friday 1 May 1970 There was no phone call on Friday, but there was a brief letter, more a note really, saying she was in the library all weekend and couldn’t see me. She had to get the work done, there was nothing she could do. On the Saturday morning, I wrote strongly that it worried me that so soon after our official engagement she had put me off going to see her for two weekends, I hadn’t seen her for three weeks, and I was getting frustrated and lonely without seeing her, in the full sense of the word.
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