Status Updates From The Edge of Beyond

'I knew it! There goes that chin again!' He kissed her, parting her lips beneath his, until her response became as warm and vital as he could wish. 'Darling, I think I'd better take you home.:'

She slipped her arms , beneath his coat, holding him very close. 'In a little while,' she pleaded.

She took a deep breath. 'I wanted to go to Nairobi to get away from you,' she confessed.
 
'Okay,' he agreed. 'I accept that. But why did you have to bolt from me? I thought we understood each other better than that?'
 
Rosalind screwed up her courage to sticking point. 'Because I'm in love with you,' she said.

'Not really,' Beatrice said in muffled tones. 'Only, I'm sure he thinks my marriage to Terry was odd and I haven't plucked up the courage to tell him about it yet. I never have told anyone!'

'He'll understand,' Rosalind assured her.

'Terry never let me into his room,' Beatrice burst out. 'He - he didn't like women. Certainly not me!... '

(is that an allusion that Terry was gay? Bravo to Ms. Chace in 1973)

'Sorry, love!' he said without pausing in the flow of his argument. His fingers curled round a lock of her hair and he played with it thoughtfully as he listened to the reply from another man. Rosalind held her breath, afraid that if she moved she would recall herself to his conscious mind, and he would bring this moment to an end.

The conversation went on literally over her head, punctuated by the long grunts of approval that are part of any African's speech. That, too, added to her sense of hopeless passion as she listened to. the cadences of Laurence's deep voice, understanding not a word that he was saying. Then to make a point he banged his hand down on the top of her head

Rosalind put her head back against Laurence's knee, revelling in the luxury of having a perfectly valid excuse for relaxing against him. Perhaps a man's shins were not the most responsive part of him, but the contact made her heart overflow with love for him and she felt soft and unusually mellow inside.

Rosalind lifted her chin. 'What positions?' she demanded.
 
He stroked her chin with a thoughtful finger. 'I'm taking you home, my girl, so don't tempt me to dally with you in the moonlight—'
 
'You always blame me!' she complained.
 
'You keep on leading with your chin,' he answered. 'The remedy is in your own hands. A proper submissive manner—'
 
'Don't!' she pleaded, unable to fence with him any more just then.

She needed time, a whole lot of time, before she saw Laurence again. She was very much afraid that she had fallen in love with him. Not the comfortable, cosy love of her imagination, but an allconsuming agony of need that she hadn't the remotest idea of how to cope with, especially not under Laurence's observant and arrogant gaze.

Rosalind didn't dare protest further. She wasn't at all sure about her own motives in wanting to delay the dance. If she shut her eyes, she was back in Laurence's embrace and his lips were seeking hers, and she was shaking inside as much now as she had then. She needed time, a whole lot of time, before she saw Laurence again.

'Perhaps you're not quite ready for the truth,' he went on. 'Is that it? Hurry up, Rosalind! You can lie and flirt all you please, but one day you'll have to admit that I'm the boss and that you like it that way!'

'I think you're a great deal too fond of having your own way!' she contradicted him

'You see,' he said, 'how pleasant it is to submit gracefully?'
 
She put her hand in his, annoyed with herself. 'It's only because I'm tired and not yet used to the climate!' she said hastily.
 
'Little liar!' he retorted.

She sat back on the canvas seat, feeling shattered. ... she was aware of a warmth, effervescent as champagne, that spread its way throughout her being. If sitting next to Laurence could have this effect on her, she would have to be very careful, she reflected. She no longer wanted to argue with him, or oppose him in any way. All she did want was that this warm glow should go on for ever

'That isn't quite what I meant,' he said dryly. 'I meant because I can't get along without you.'
 
'That'll be the day!'
 
'Don't underrate yourself, Rosalind. You pack quite a punch with that fair hair and those black-brown eyes.'

'My dear girl! What are you trying to prove? You were thin enough when you got here, now you look as though a breath of wind would send you flying!' He broke off, then went on, his voice very gentle, 'It would have spared you today in the hot sun.'

'I'm stronger than I look!' she answered.

He pushed his hat back suddenly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. 'Are we going to have another argument about it?' he drawled.
'N-no, of course not! Only, if I leave here now, these wretched beasts will be all over the place again!'

Laurence smiled. She thought he looked disappointed. She was shocked by the knowledge that he actually enjoyed arguing with her. How could he?

Beatrice's mouth tightened. 'It isn't working out, is it? Should I sell out, Ros?'
Rosalind thought of the birds she had seen at sunrise, and the clean, hot air at midday, and of the star-filled, velvet nights that haunted her with awakening desires she could not yet put a name to, and knew that she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay on any terms!

'I don't mind telling you,' Jennifer went on, 'though I'd appreciate it your keeping it to yourself, but I was beginning to wonder about Laurie and me making a go of things. After last night, though, I know I've got him just where I want him! He's mine, every last little bit of him!'

John, himself, drove badly, riding on his clutch, and accelerating and braking alternatively, without apparent rhyme or reason. She found herself driving for him, braking hard with her foot against the floor. It was a relief when they arrived at the Hollings front door.

She gave another stubborn lift to her chin and turned to face him, daring him to convert her to his way of thinking.

'All right,' he drawled. 'Fact number one! Any girl who leads with her chin as you do deserves what's coming to her.' He bent his head and kissed her hard on the lips. … It was a long, leisurely kiss that paid no heed to her indignant efforts to be free. And then she didn't want to be free.

She gave another stubborn lift to her chin and turned to face him, daring him to convert her to his way of thinking.

'All right,' he drawled. 'Fact number one! Any girl who leads with her chin as you do deserves what's coming to her.' He bent his head and kissed her hard on the lips. … It was a long, leisurely kiss that paid no heed to her indignant efforts to be free. And then she didn't want to be free.

They would have to come down and be rebuilt, she told herself, and wondered what it would cost to build with asbestos on solid foundations, even supposing she could find anyone to do it for her. (Ah the 70's!)

He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. Cross with him as she was, Rosalind couldn't help noticing how well kept his hands were. They were strong hands, tanned by the sun, with beautifully clean nails.

She tried to meet his eyes with a disinterest that equalled his, but she found she couldn't. The cool grey of his reduced her confidence to a quivering air of expectancy that she could only despise in herself.

Rosalind, with her fair, almost white hair, deep brown eyes and a skin that tanned easily, knew that she would never be beautiful, but her looks were sufficiently unusual for her always to have stood out in any crowd.