Bill reached his hand down and patted Arlene on the butt. “Somehow I get the idea we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it,” he said. “For right now, bottom line is I survived. Most important, I learned, and not for the first time either, that God is there with us and He has His own plans for us.”
“And you know this how?” Arlene asked. She reached behind her and lifted her robe, moved Bill’s hand so that it was on her bare behind.
Bill kneaded her flesh gently. He allowed himself to enjoy touching her but he did not do anything overtly sexual. He found the juncture of her thighs and her buttocks and played there a bit then moved his hand up to the small of her back. He held her firmly against him, leaned in and kissed her, a gentle kiss at first, then an exploratory one. He felt Arlene eagerly kiss back so that their tongues met and played together.
Bill thought as they kissed. He recalled the second night in the workhouse when the tough came for him, when the tough asked him what he was in for, when without thinking he responded truthfully, saying it was for assault and battery. The tough asked him if it was his wife he beat up. Bill told him, no, it was a cop.
That wasn’t exactly true. The statement was true but the implication was quite incorrect. He didn’t beat up anybody. He grabbed the guy closest to him but others grabbed him from behind, knocked him out and carted him to the paddy wagon. They weren’t cops either. They were FBI.
Bill remembered. Bill would remember for his whole life. Bill would never forget. Bill could never forget. He could never forget any of it.
He’d put the tough in a quandary and the tough, maybe a real tough guy, was probably not too bright. He stood looking puzzled, as if in a dilemma. Bill remembered seeing him thinking, trying to decide what course of action to take next. Bill’s answer had caught him off guard, completely surprised him.
Luckily and most fortunately, the tough nodded, turned and walked away, his crew following behind him.
Later, locked in the workhouse, Bill had plenty of time to reason it through. If the tough went on and attacked him, he would be attacking someone who had fought a cop. That was bad etiquette. Then, in a different light, if Bill had attacked and beaten up a cop, maybe, Bill imagined the tough was figuring, maybe Bill could take him or maybe this guy he had approached would give him such a good fight that he might lose his status as the dorm tough.
That’s how it worked down.
Arlene’s tongue tasted good. His hand on her back kept her pressed tightly to him. He could feel her relaxing against him, felt her letting her body mesh with his.
“You going to tell me?” Arlene asked. “I’m interested in why you believe God is there with us.”
“Of course I’m going to tell you,” Bill said.
“Well?”
Bill moved his hand from where it was back down to where her thighs joined and met her buttocks. He pressed his fingers between her thighs indicating that she should spread them.
At first Arlene did not move her legs, but when Bill increased the pressure of his fingers, she took his hint.
“What?” she said.
“I don’t know,” said Bill.
“You want me?” Arlene asked.
“I don’t know,” said Bill. “I’m certainly thinking about it. You certainly are appealing. But no matter what, now isn’t the right time.”
He touched Arlene but only for a few seconds, just long enough for her to kiss him even harder and moan slightly.
