Fine Lines

Chapter Twenty-Two

The shadows were lengthening and the day had lost much of its earlier heat when I turned on to the street where Zeppo lived. I pulled into the first available parking space, edging in between a Citroen and a motorcycle.

“I think his flat is a bit further up,” Anna said.

“Is it? What number are we at?”

“Twenty-two. He lives at fifty-eight, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” But by that time I had turned the engine off. “Ah well. At least we’ve found a space.”

We left the car and walked the rest of the way to Zeppo’s flat. It was only a short distance, but enough to make my car difficult to pick out, I saw as we climbed the steps. I rang the doorbell. After a moment Zeppo opened the door, smiling.

“Come in.” He smelt crisply of cologne. I stood back and let Anna enter first. She wore a sleeveless white blouse that just hung to the waistband of her loose white skirt. When she moved, a thin brown strip of flesh was sometimes visible. Her tan had faded a little since she had returned from holiday, but the past week had been cloudless and hot, and she had clearly been in the sun that afternoon. Her skin was golden and glowing, and her hair gleamed with copper highlights.

I followed her inside. A warm aroma of cooking greeted us. Anna sniffed. “Something smells good.”

“That’s the furniture polish. We’re having sandwiches.”

I laughed, obligingly, and hoped Zeppo would hurry up and offer us a drink. I needed something to help me relax. Both Anna and Zeppo appeared perfectly at ease, but that was hardly surprising. Seduction was no novelty for Zeppo, and Anna was as yet unaware that this evening would be different from any other. I, on the other hand, was a bag of nerves.

With the end actually in sight, it had been harder than ever to patiently wait for the last few days to pass. Zeppo had called into the gallery the morning after our meeting and invited us both to dinner on Saturday. I had held my breath until Anna accepted, but the shock came from Zeppo, not her.

“It’s a bit of a farewell celebration, actually,” he had said. “I’m going to Brazil on Monday.”

That was news to me. “You lucky devil!” Anna said. “How long for?”

“Only two or three weeks. I’m modelling beachwear again. I wanted to do it in Blackpool, but they insisted on shooting in Rio, so what can you do?”

I had not known what to make of this at all. I confronted him later. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going away?” I demanded.

“Because I didn’t decide to until this morning.”

“You mean there is no modelling job?”

“Donald, you can be amazingly dense sometimes. That’s right, there is no modelling job. I was telling porkies.”

“Why? Why complicate things?”

“Why does it complicate things? If anything, it’ll make it easier. Give Saturday evening the poignancy of leaving. Parting is such sweet sorrow, and all that crap. Besides which, it’ll get me out of the way afterwards. Stop her from pestering me.”

“And what if something goes wrong? What if you don’t manage to... to...”

“To fuck her?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I will. Don’t be such an old woman, Donald.”

“I’m not being anything, except prudent. I don’t want to have to wait another three weeks, that’s all. Not now.”

“You won’t, I’ve told you.”

A sudden thought struck me. It had never occurred to me before, and I was horrified to think I had overlooked something so simple. “What if Anna can’t, though?”

“What do you mean, “can’t”?”

I had the feeling he knew perfectly well what I meant. I struggled for a delicate way of phrasing it. “I mean what if it’s... if it’s her time of the month?”

Zeppo cocked his head, smirking. “If you’re talking about her having a period, don’t worry. She won’t be.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because it’s Saturday.”

He said it as though that explained everything. I hesitated, unwilling to show my ignorance. But I had to ask. “What has that to do with it?”

“Come on, Donald. Even you must know that girls don’t have periods at weekends.”

He said it so seriously that for a moment I was unsure. It was not a subject I had ever had cause to acquaint myself with. Zeppo laughed delightedly.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Donald, I knew you were naive, but I didn’t think even you were that gullible!”

I stood there, stiffly embarrassed, until he had finished laughing at me. “I repeat, how can you be sure?”

Zeppo wiped his eyes, still grinning. “Because I saw she had a packet of tampons in her handbag ages ago, and made a note of the date. Unless she’s in the habit of carrying them around with her all the time, we’re well in the clear. And even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t necessarily matter. I tell you what, I’ll get you a sex-education pamphlet. You can read it before this Saturday, so you know what’s going on.”

His ridicule had stung, but been quickly forgotten in the face of my growing excitement. The scene I had imagined ever since I had seen Anna naked in the mirror would soon be a reality. All I had to do was wait a few more days.

Now, however, the waiting was nearly over, and the thought of what was going to happen in a matter of hours made me feel giddy. And, after the first drink, garrulous.

“You know, Zeppo, if anyone had told me you were a cook I wouldn’t have believed them, but that smells very good indeed. What is it?”

“Gambas a la plancha,” he said from the kitchen, from where sizzling sounds were emanating. “Or prawns fried with garlic, if you prefer. Followed by paella.”

I smiled over at Anna. “I take it we’re in for a Spanish evening, then. Actually, I was thinking about paella just the other day, and wishing I knew a good Spanish restaurant in London so I could have it more often. It never tastes the same when you cook it at home.” I realised my gaffe and immediately became flustered.

“Well, it never does when I try it, that is. I’m sure that yours is much more authentic, Zeppo. It certainly smells delicious. You’ll have to give me the recipe for it before you go on holiday. But you’re not going on holiday, are you, I was forgetting. I meant to work. Brazil.”

“Anna, could you just stir these while I take the bread through?” Zeppo asked.

“Yes, sure.” She went into the kitchen, leaving me sweating and confused in the lounge. Zeppo came out carrying a basket of cut French bread.

“More wine, Donald?” he asked, and as he leaned to take my glass hissed, “For fuck’s sake stop gabbling!”

He went back into the kitchen, and when Anna came out I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on to my face and drank a little from the tap. Then I sat on the edge of the bath and took deep breaths until I felt composed enough to face them again.

Zeppo was just bringing in the prawns. I sat down at the table, the three of us forming a triangle, and occupied myself with a piece of bread. I had no appetite, and my only lasting impression of the food is that it was hot. I burnt my mouth on the first forkful, and ate without taste or pleasure. But Anna was loud in her praise, so I joined in, taking care not to sound too effusive.

Luckily, that was no longer a problem. From being unable to shut up, I suddenly found myself with nothing to say. I smiled and laughed and otherwise responded to the conversation, but contributed little to it. It was a struggle not to constantly keep looking at my watch, and as the minutes passed the urge became stronger and I grew even more silent.

But neither Anna nor Zeppo seemed to notice. They had enough to say without help from me, and each listened raptly whenever the other was talking. Even I could not help but be aware of the frisson between them, and that part of me that was not anxiously watching the time felt a glow of paternal pride at being responsible for bringing them together.

Then the telephone rang. I jumped, jolted out of my trance, and spilled wine on my hand.

“Excuse me,” said Zeppo, and went to answer it. I dabbed at the wine, thankful that Anna did not appear to have noticed. She was watching Zeppo.

I forced myself not to stare as I heard him say, “Hello? Yes, that’s right. Okay... Yes, he is. Just a second.” He turned to me. “It’s for you, Donald. Somebody called Roger Chamberlain.”

I did my best to look surprised as I went and took the receiver from him. “Hello?” I said. The dialling tone hummed steadily in my ear. “No, of course I don’t mind. How on earth did you know where to find me?” I paused. The tone continued. “Oh, so I did. No, that’s okay. Is everything all right?” I glanced over at the table. Anna and Zeppo were studiously trying to mind their own business. “Oh, no! You haven’t! That’s awful! What have they taken?” Again, I paused. “And have they left a mess?” I sighed, loudly. “That’s terrible. I don’t know what to say.” In fact, I really was running out of ideas. The dialling tone was an unimaginative prompter. “Yes... yes... no... No, of course not. Yes, I’m sure. About an hour, okay? Yes, I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up and went back to the table. “Bad news?” asked Zeppo.

I sat down. “Yes, it was, rather. That was a friend of mine. He’s just got back from holiday and found he’s been burgled. It sounds like they’ve left his house in an awful mess, and taken almost everything that’s not nailed down. He’s in a terrible state.”

“Has he called the police?” Anna seemed suitably convinced.

“Yes. They’ve already been, but they weren’t very helpful, apparently. He wants me to go over. He had quite a nice little collection of watercolours, and most of those are missing, but what’s upset him even more is that whoever did it defaced the ones they’ve left. He wondered if I’d go over and see if they can be salvaged. You don’t mind, do you Zeppo?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you have to go straight away?” Anna asked. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Well, I suppose it could, but I think he would like someone to talk to. He lives by himself, and it must have been quite a shock for him.” I hoped Anna would not question it too closely, but I was flattered that she wanted me to stay.

“How can anyone do anything like that?” she said. “It’s bad enough stealing something, but spoiling what’s left...” She shook her head.

“Sickening,” agreed Zeppo. “Can you stay for dessert, or do you have to go now?”

I looked at my watch. The hands and numerals formed a cypher that meant nothing to me. Now that the moment had come, the time was unimportant. “I think I’d better. I told him I’d be there in an hour, and he lives quite a way away.” I had a sudden moment of panic, my mind a blank, as I waited for Anna to ask exactly where he lived. But she did not.

“I just hope they catch them,” she said. “Have they left any fingerprints?”

“He didn’t say.” I stood up, forestalling further enquiry. “I’d better go. Thanks for the meal, Zeppo. I’m sorry to have to dash like this.”

He stood up. “That’s okay. I’ll see you to the door.”

Anna began to get up as well. “No, don’t bother,” I said quickly. “You stay where you are. I’m disturbing everyone enough.” I bent and kissed her cheek. Her skin felt hot and taut. “Have a nice evening.”

She said goodbye, and I followed Zeppo into the hallway. “Proper little Olivier, aren’t we?” he muttered. Then, raising his voice, he opened the front door a crack and said. “Bye, Donald. I hope your friend gets his things back.”

“So do I. Sorry to have to go like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you later. “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Zeppo put his finger to his lips and firmly closed the door. I followed him back down the hall, careful not to make a noise. Before we came to the lounge, another door stood open. I went inside and Zeppo quickly pulled it shut behind me.

I put my ear against it. “What a shame,” I heard Zeppo say, and then his voice was cut off as he closed the lounge door. I listened for a moment longer, but could make out nothing but indistinct murmurs.

I relaxed for the first time that evening. I looked around the room. It was dim, a fabric blind covering the single window. A chair waited by the wall. Next to it was a low table on which stood a glass, a jug of water, and a bottle of brandy. There was also a small pencil-light, and an object I did not at first recognise. I moved nearer and saw it was a wide-necked cardboard bottle, the sort used by hospital patients to relieve themselves. I was impressed by Zeppo’s foresight. That was something I had not considered But then I saw the note underneath it. “You can use this for whatever you want. The tissues are on the dressing table.” When I realised what he meant I put the bottle down again, angrily.

I sat in the chair and examined the wall in front of me. There was a hole in it, several inches deep and large enough to accommodate my head when I leaned forward. It exposed a thin skin of plaster and wooden slats, and in this another, smaller hole had been made. It looked like a miniature letterbox. I peered through it, but could make out little in the failing light. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, I sat back in the chair and poured myself a small brandy.

So far, except for my earlier bout of nerves, it had all gone as planned. The telephone call had come as Zeppo had promised. He had ordered an alarm call from the operator for some point during the evening, but refused to tell me when. “You’ll only be counting down if I do. It’ll seem more natural if you don’t know when to expect it.” It had also been his idea to use a fictitious rather than real friend. “If you’re going to lie, make sure you can’t be found out,” he had said. I had bowed to his experience.

I looked at my watch, straining to read its face. Only a few minutes had passed, but the room was already noticeably darker. The window gave out on to the rear garden, where no streetlight would brighten it. Restless, I crossed over to the door and listened again. Anna and Zeppo’s voices were just audible, but I could make out nothing of what they were saying. I hesitated, and then opened the door an inch.

Immediately, I felt a sudden surge of deja vu. Unbalanced, I tried to shake it, but the feeling remained. For a moment I felt on the verge of identifying it. Then the sensation had passed. Disregarding it, I concentrated on listening to the voices in the other room.

“... of mine. But he came home while they were still in the house,” I heard Zeppo say.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah, but Alex lives in a world of his own, and went straight to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. So, like an idiot, he sat there sipping his Nescafe, while the rest of his house was looted!”

I heard Anna laugh. “You’re joking!”

“No, honestly. I saw him the next day. Apparently, he sat there for half an hour, and it was only when he went to the loo and saw that the front door was open that he began to wonder what was happening. And even then it wasn’t until he noticed his TV had gone that he realised he’d been burgled.”

“Didn’t he hear anything?”

“Oh, yeah. He said he’d heard all these bumps and thuds, but didn’t think anything to it. Just thought it was the house creaking! I told him he should either get a burglar alarm or move to a quieter house.”

They both laughed. Anna said something I could not catch, and I heard a chair scrape back. I tensed, ready to close the door, but then Zeppo’s voice came again, fainter than before. He was in the kitchen. I opened the door another crack, trying to make out what he was saying.

“... stupid. I knew I’d forgotten something.” I heard what sounded like the refrigerator door opening.

“What is it?” Anna asked. “Nothing vital, I hope?”

“That depends if you call champagne vital or not.” Zeppo’s voice grew louder as he spoke. “Personally, I think it is. It completely slipped my mind. I got carried away with the cooking. I thought we could celebrate my new job. Even if it is just for a few weeks.”

There was a muffled pop. “Whoa,” Zeppo said. There was a pause. “Mmm, that’s gorgeous,” said Anna. “Poor Donald’s missed out.”

“Ah, well. We can always save him a glass. Anyway, I’d better see to that paella. It’s probably stuck to the bottom of the pan by now.”

“Can I help?” I could not hear Zeppo’s answer, but presumably it was affirmative, because a moment later there was the sound of another chair being pushed back, and then both their voices became indistinct. I listened for a while longer, but apart from the occasional laughter, I could make nothing out. I closed the door and went back to my brandy.

I gave them time to return to the lounge, and then took up position by the door again. Muted noises were still coming from the kitchen. Then a dish clattered, and I heard Zeppo suddenly exclaim, “Owl That’s hot!”

“Put it under the cold tap.” Anna’s voice was more distinct now.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be a martyr. If I pass out, call an ambulance.”

“You’re very brave.”

“Don’t laugh. It’s worse than it looks.”

“It’d have to be, I can’t see anything.”

“I’ve got a low tolerance to pain.” A pause. “Is that enough for now?”

“Yes, that’s plenty, thanks. It looks wonderful.”

“Fresh from the tin.”

“If that’s from a tin, tell me where you buy them from.” She gave an appreciative moan. “God, this is delicious!”

“Thank you. But you can’t make it yourself like it is in restaurants, can you?”

They laughed, and I felt my face burn, knowing it was at my expense. My neck and back were aching, and I straightened, rubbing them. Careful not to make a noise, I carried the chair to the door and positioned it close to the gap. I sat down and leaned forward.

There was a hypnotic fascination in being able to eavesdrop on them. Innocent and banal as their conversation was, there was an illicit delight in being able to listen from the safety of my hiding place. Both my room and the hallway were in darkness now, and a thin band of light showed around the edge of the lounge door. I gazed at it, entranced. On the other side, Anna and Zeppo were intent on each other. I was a secret, third party to this moment of their private lives, and I gave myself up to the fantasy that neither of them were aware of my presence. I experienced a thrill of sheer, sensual pleasure, and for a few heady seconds had the wild impulse to take off my clothes and listen to them naked. But of course I did no such thing. I only stared, hypnotised, at the square outline of light, engrossed in the voices that came from it.

Plates were cleared, and then Anna gave a low groan. “Oh, God, is that as gooey as it looks?”

“Even more so.”

“You’re evil. I’ll have to diet for a month after this.”

“I doubt it. You’re not exactly fat, are you?”

“You haven’t seen me in a bikini.”

“No, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Uh-uh. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

I imagined Anna blushing in the ensuing silence. “More champagne?” Zeppo asked.

“I’d love some. Oh. Is that all there is left? We can’t have drunk a whole bottle!”

“Unless there’s someone under the table we must have. But don’t worry. There’s another in the fridge.”

“Another! You have been splashing out.”

“Well, I thought there’d be three of us.”

“Don’t open it just for me. I’m tipsy already.”

“So am I. We can keep each other company. Anyway, if we don’t drink it now it’ll go off.”

Anna laughed, low and throaty. There was another pop, louder this time.

“Look out, it’s a live one!”

Beyond the bright outline, I pictured the champagne being poured, rising then settling in the glasses. I could almost taste it, feel intoxicated with them.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

There was a minute hesitation before Zeppo answered. “I should think so.” A shadow of wariness was in his voice.

“Is Zeppo your real name?”

Another hesitation. “No. No, my parents weren’t that cruel. My surname’s Marks, with a K, so people started calling me Zeppo. As in the Marx Brothers. It sort of stuck.”

I heard Anna giggle. “It could be worse. At least it’s not Groucho, Harpo or Chico.”

“Yeah, I get called after the boring one nobody remembers. Perhaps people are trying to tell me something.”

“You’re hardly boring.”

“Thank you.”

Neither spoke for a while. Then Anna asked, “So what is your real name?”

Zeppo hesitated again. “Oh, you don’t want to know that.”

“Oh, I do. Come on, it can’t be that bad.” Anna’s diction was slightly slurred. There was a muttered answer from Zeppo, too low for me to hear. I had no doubt that was what he intended. But Anna had no such compunction. She burst out laughing.

“Crispin?” she exclaimed. “No! You’re joking!”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I just can’t imagine you as a Crispin!”

“Neither can I,” he said, drily. “My parents were religious. They named me after a saint. Of shoemakers, would you believe? The patron saint of cobblers.”

Anna was convulsed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped at last. “Does anyone actually call you Crispin?”

“No, thank God. I try not to broadcast it.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Does Donald know?”

“Probably.”

“What about your parents? Don’t they still call you that?”

“They don’t call me anything. They’re dead.”

I could feel the effect his words had on Anna. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The laughter had suddenly gone from her voice.

“It’s okay. No need to apologise. It happened a long time ago, anyway. I was only a kid.”

He seemed to be deliberately inviting questions. I wondered what he thought he was doing. “How old were you?” asked Anna.

“Thirteen. It was a car accident. I went to live with an aunt afterwards. I don’t think she liked kids. She certainly didn’t like me. I left as soon as I was old enough.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No, there’s just me. I used to wish I had some when I was younger. I was pretty lonely for a while. But I don’t suppose I have to tell you what that’s like, do I?”

I listened with disbelief. I wondered if he was doing it to spite me.

“No,” Anna said. Her voice was pitched very low.

“Is it still as bad?”

A small laugh. “Bloody awful, actually.”

“I know it’s different for you, with Marty being missing. But I can still imagine what you’re going through. You’ve just got to give it time.”

“Mm. I know. That’s what everyone says. But... oh well. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, go on. Please.”

There was a brief silence. “Well, I just... I just wish I knew what had happened to him, that’s all!” Her voice rose, close to breaking. “If the police came and told me they’d found him, dead, I could cope with that a lot better than this not knowing. I know some people think he’s just run off with someone, and sometimes I catch myself thinking that they might be right, that he might be still alive somewhere. But then that only makes it worse. I know he’s dead, but I don’t know how, or why, or if he suffered, or... or anything. It’s that I can’t...” Her voice finally broke. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I heard a chair being pushed back.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on.”

“God!” She sniffed, loudly. “I’m such a silly cow! I’m sorry. I’d better go.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“What a farewell party for you.”

“That doesn’t matter. I only used it as an excuse to see you again, anyway.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “I bet you wish you hadn’t bothered.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft; calmer. “I’m all right now. Sorry for being such a crybaby.”

“You’re not a crybaby.”

There was a long pause. “I must look a mess. I’d better clean myself up.”

“You look lovely.”

Another silence. It seemed to go on and on. Then Anna broke it. “Zeppo, I don’t...” That was all. I stared at the outline of light. Anna said, “Zeppo...” once more, so quietly I barely heard her, and then there was nothing. I waited, wondering what they were doing, hoping Zeppo had not forgotten himself. I was considering creeping out to listen more closely when the lounge door opened.

I leaned back from the crack, not daring to close my own door. I held my breath as I heard them cross the hallway and go into the room next to mine. Heart pounding, I quietly rose and made my way back to the adjoining wall, guiding myself by touch in the darkness. Hands outstretched, I felt the table and tentatively searched with my fingers for the hole in the brickwork. After a moment I found the smaller hole in the plaster. I stooped and put my eyes to it.

At first I could make nothing out. The room beyond was as dark as my own. Then there was a click and I flinched as a bar of light shone directly into my eyes. Blinking to acclimatize them, I peered through the narrow gap.

I was looking out over an enormous bed, sideways on. An imitation Tiffany lamp now provided a soft glow. Facing me was a huge mirror. It showed the wall behind which I was hidden. A stack of shelves fixed to it held plants, books and racks of cassettes and CDs. My spy hole was invisible amongst them. At the base of the bed were Anna and Zeppo.

She had her back to him. His hands were on her shoulders, stroking. He gently turned her around until she faced him, then lowered his head and softly kissed her mouth. Anna tilted her head to him, but otherwise stood passively. He kissed her again, still gentle, a mere brushing of the lips. His hands lightly stroked up and down her back. He began to kiss her more insistently, and when her arms hesitatingly went around him, he lengthened the extent of his caress until he was stroking the uppermost curve of her buttocks. But when she began to respond, he stopped.

“Anna... I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” His voice was low, husky. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You aren’t.” And this time she drew his head down to hers, arching herself against him. His hands ran up into her hair, pulling her head backwards by it, and then one of them went to the buttons at the back of her blouse.

One by one they came undone, revealing a deepening vee of brown skin under the white fabric. He slid his hands across her bare back, one of them sliding beneath the waistband of her skirt. She tugged his shirt from his trousers and began to unfasten it. Still kissing him, she pulled it off, and as she did he slipped the skirt over her hips and let it drop to the floor. It formed a pool of white around her bare legs. I stared at it. There seemed something familiar about the sight, and again I felt a faint, uncomfortable flare of deja vu. This time it brought with it an unaccountable flutter of unease. I hastily looked back to Anna and Zeppo, trying to ignore it. I wanted no distractions now.

Anna wore only a pair of brief white pants under the skirt. They seemed dazzling against the tanned darkness of her skin. Zeppo removed her blouse and eased them down, sliding them over the swell of her behind, and then she was naked.

She was even more splendid than I remembered. Her back was to me, and her spine arched in a deep, indented curve to the dark cleft between her buttocks. A whiter strip of skin, an echo of her bikini bottom, cleanly bisected them. Below it her thighs were strong and graceful.

Zeppo’s clothes joined Anna’s on the floor. She tilted her head back as he kissed her throat, his hands cupping her breasts. She hooked one leg behind his, and then he was lifting her, holding her by the buttocks as she wrapped herself around him. He turned, taking the single step that brought them to the edge of the bed, and as he lowered her on to it, I had my first sight of his body. His tan matched hers, a ruddy brown to her gold, but unbroken by any strip of white, testimony to the privacy of a sun lamp. He was taut and sleek, with no fat to soften the marked definition of muscle. His member was erect, surprisingly dark and, it seemed to me, abnormally long. I had a moment’s fear that it might prove impractical, and then his body came down on to hers.

She ran her hands across his back as he kissed her chest, and my breath caught when his mouth went to her breasts. His hands squeezed and cupped them as his lips encircled first one small, dark nipple, then the other. Then he was moving lower. More and more of her body was revealed as his own descended. His tongue laved her stomach, paused over her navel, then moved on. Eyes closed, she undulated slightly beneath him, hands twined in his hair. He eased between her legs, sliding down still further until his lower body was off the bed, and the dark patch of Anna’s pubic hair was visible under his mouth.

I watched, dizzily, as Anna moaned and offered herself to him. She opened her legs wider and raised her knees, obscuring all but the top of Zeppo’s head. Her hands left his hair and she stretched them above her on the pillow. Eyes closed, her head lolled towards me, an intense, almost pained expression on her face. She matched the almost imperceptible motion of Zeppo’s head with short, graceful movements of her hips. They gradually increased in tempo, and a small whimper came from her. Then another. Her head turned from side to side and she groaned, arching her back so that her ribs were clearly visible under the skin. Her breasts thrust out, tautly. She groaned again and suddenly reached down and with both hands pulled Zeppo’s head hard against her, grinding herself into him. His hands gripped the tops of her thighs, holding her as she began to buck and thrash about, and then in one smooth motion he pushed himself back up her body, between her legs, and Anna said, “Oh God,” as his hips came up to hers.

For a moment they stayed locked like that. Then their bodies were moving slowly and rhythmically together. Zeppo supported himself on stiff arms, his chest suspended above Anna’s breasts, lightly brushing them. Her legs were spread wide, knees raised, her heels digging into the bed as she pushed against him. Her eyes were shut tight, and each time their lower bodies met she gave a low moan. Her face was rapt, but Zeppo’s was expressionless as he watched her writhe under him. Her hands raked down his flanks, clutching his buttocks, and as her movements became more insist ant a sensation of heat began to grow in my groin. The two bodies began to smack together more violently. He lowered his head to her breasts, sucking fiercely. She wrapped her legs around his waist, almost doubling herself up under him. He lifted his head to look down at her, his face glazed with sweat and concentration, and increased his tempo still further. She cried out, throwing her head back and tossing it from side to side, and I felt the heat in my belly spreading. She cried out again and clung to his shoulders, and as her mouth contorted in a silent scream, I looked in the mirror opposite and saw a second Anna and Zeppo framed there and almost cried out myself as I was racked by a sudden hot spasm.

I closed my eyes, lost to it, almost fainting. Then it was ebbing, and as the tension left my limbs I sagged weakly back into the chair, and only at the last moment remembered it was still by the door.

I clutched desperately at the nearby table as I staggered backwards, almost knocking over the jug of water. I only just managed to retain my balance and froze, heart bumping, waiting for signs that I had been heard. But none came. Shakily, I went back to the wall and peered through the thin band of light.

Anna and Zeppo were still locked together, but now all urgency had gone. Anna lay limply, eyes closed, one hand gently stroking the nape of Zeppo’s neck. Her legs slowly slid down his until they rested on the bed once more. He lay between them, supporting himself on his elbows, looking down at her with a clinical detachment that contradicted the sweat coating his body. When Anna lazily opened her eyes and smiled up at him, he smiled back: when she closed them, his smile vanished.

I should have left then. I had assumed Zeppo had reached his climax with Anna, and that now they would separate, perhaps talk for a while and eventually sleep. I only wanted to linger until then, to see a rounded ending to what I had brought about. But a moment later Zeppo began slowly to move his hips again, and it was too late for me to leave. I had to stay and watch.

His face still held its same detached expression as his buttocks began to gently rise and fall with a slightly circular motion. He studied Anna’s supine body and face coldly, as though the actions of his lower body had no relationship with the rest of him. At first there was no response from her. She lay passively under him, and except for the hand that lightly stroked the back of his neck, she could have been asleep. Zeppo continued to move in the same unhurried, steady rhythm. For what seemed a long while nothing happened. Then Anna shifted slightly, a luxurious, cat-like motion. Giving a low murmur, she began to stir against him.

As if this were the signal he had been waiting for, Zeppo turned his head and looked directly at me. Without breaking or altering his pace at all, he closed one eye in a slow, deliberate wink.

The acknowledgment was like a cold shock. I drew back from the hole, and stood in the darkness uncertainly, almost giving way to the impulse to leave. But the urge to look back through the sliver of light overwhelmed it. Instead I fetched the chair from the doorway, sat down, and put my eyes to the gap again.

I caught them as they were changing position. Zeppo was sliding his legs under Anna’s, his hands behind her back, lifting her. She had her eyes open, smiling at him as they came up into a sitting position, facing each other. They kissed. Then Zeppo lay backwards until he was flat on the bed, and Anna was upright and astride him. She smiled.

“It’s my turn now, is it?”

“I’ve got to save my strength.”

Leaning over him, Anna began to move her hips. Her hair fell forward, curtaining her face. Her breasts swung. Zeppo reached up to fondle them, craning his neck to bring them to his mouth. She pushed him back down on to the bed and bent to kiss his chest. Lifting her hips, she began to edge slowly backwards. She slid gradually down the length of his body, her hair trailing across him, obscuring her. She moved until she was kneeling between his legs and her head was above his groin, and there she stopped.

Zeppo’s face, which had remained impassive, now held a flicker of animation. His eyes briefly shut, and he put his hands to Anna’s head in a gesture almost of benediction. Her hair still concealed what she was doing, but then, with a glance towards me, Zeppo moved it to one side.

The gross, slimy object was in her mouth. Her lips were stretched and distended as they conformed to its shape. Hands and fingers stroked and squeezed. Her cheeks hollowed and bulged as her face descended, engulfing more, then rose until the entire length of it was exposed. Her tongue circled, ran down the shaft to its base, then retraced its path. Her lips pursed to kiss the tip before suddenly covering it once more, slobbering over it like an uncouth child with a stick of rock.

I could feel Zeppo’s eyes on me. I looked away from the spectacle and saw that he was looking towards me with an expression of amused contempt. As if he knew I had chosen that moment to look at him, he gave a groan, and with both hands on the back of Anna’s head, slowly thrust his hips up at her. More of him slid into her mouth as he arched his back, holding her head in place. She pulled against his grip; waiting until he subsided before descending on him in a series of quick, gulping jerks. He groaned again, louder. But when his head turned towards me again, his eyes were still cold and controlled.

Abruptly, he lifted her head from him. Freed from Anna’s mouth, the thing slapped wetly back against his stomach. Kneeling up, Zeppo kissed her before urging her into a new position. She swung around until her feet were towards me, and at his coaxing lay back on the bed and opened her legs. I was directly opposite. The curly, almost black hair at the juncture of her thighs was entirely visible, and so too was the pink gash that bisected it. It glistened like an open wound, even more so when Zeppo put his fingers to it and spread it wide, exposing a glutinous hole. Then Zeppo pivoted until his crotch was once more in front of Anna’s face, angled her on to her side, and put his mouth to the raw oval of flesh.

He kept his head tilted so I could see what he was doing. His tongue lightly circled, then pierced its centre with a quick stab. I lifted my gaze to the mirror, and saw Anna inverted, her mouth on him as before. I looked away, back to Zeppo. His tongue and fingers stretched, probed, and manipulated. Heads busy between each other’s legs, they remained locked until Zeppo pulled away and knelt upright again. His face was flushed, and there was a new urgency to his movements as he helped Anna reposition herself on all fours. Kneeling behind her, he moved until they were angled obliquely away from me. There was nothing now I could not see. With one hand on her buttock, he guided himself into her with the other, permitting me to see every detail. Then, gripping her by the hips, he gave a brief glance in my direction and thrust into her. Impaled, she responded by throwing back her head, exposing the line of her throat. I stared at it, clutching at its beauty, but even that disappeared as her head sank down on to the bed and she whimpered, rocking back on her knees to offer her rump to him more prominently.

They coupled like dogs. Zeppo grunted each time he slapped against her with the viscous sound of disturbed mud. His hands gripped and clutched, pulling her back onto him. She squealed. Their rutting became more frantic. He no longer glanced towards my hiding place. His mouth hung open slackly, his grunts growing louder, and it was then I became aware of the smell. Rank and feral, it came to me faintly, but once noticed it was as pervading as rotting fruit. Suddenly the sense of deja vu returned. For an instant, my mind was taken to the dream, and I had a brief vision of another, similar scene peering through the crack of light in a partly open door, looking past the trail of discarded clothes, past the puddle of white silk on the carpet to the two naked, grunting figures on the bed, staring beyond the clutching white limbs to the faces... and then I had jerked my head away and was blundering from the room, fleeing from the strip of light and the awful, bestial noises. I reached the door at the end of the hallway and fumbled with the lock, unable to see in the darkness, but then I was outside and the noises were gone, and the night was cool, and empty, and quiet.

I stood on the pavement in front of the house, panting. A breeze chilled the sweat on my body, making me aware of how damp my clothes were. When I started to shiver I walked back to the car. I felt clammy and unclean. My clothes clung to me, sticky and abrasive. Every inch of my skin seemed sensitive to the slightest nuance of texture. The cool upholstery of the car greeted me like a balm, and I sat for a while without turning on the engine.

When I drove away, I went past Zeppo’s flat without looking at it.