Joshua's Grace

Chapter 8 (2)

Grace though slumberous, had too much on her mind. She knew daylight would bring an inquest. And that worried her. Things were about to change. That really worried her. She had set out to seduce him and had succeeded. Succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. But the time to pay was fast approaching. Later this morning she knew she would be held to account for her actions. If only she could postpone that inevitable discussion.

Grace sat on the wooden steps hugging her knees as she gazed into the distance. Her blue cut off jeans left her knees and ankles bare. Her hair was damp from the shower she had recently taken and she was lost in thought as she stared unseeingly at the horizon. She had woken early, unable to sleep and worried about facing Joshua. He had slept soundly. And she had taken those minutes to watch him sleep. After a few tentative minutes she had stealthily climbed out of her bed and left him to sleep on.

The fact that it was barely six o'clock was a clear sign of just how agitated she was. Grace wasn't a morning person, never had been, and the fact that she had got out of bed without having to argue with herself, showed just how unsettled she was. She took a shower, rummaged in Sasha's room for a clean t shirt and shorts, because she didn't want to wake him up, and had made herself a cup of herbal tea before heading for the back door step. Strange how old habits never died. She remembered the last time she had felt this vulnerable and faced making a challenging decision. She had made it sitting on this very step. Then she had been flanked by her sisters. She was nearly twelve Briar was mid way between her tenth and eleventh birthday, and Sasha had just had her seventh birthday. Yet, at that age, the three of them had sat on this step and decided how they were going to tell their parents that Grace was going to take the bus to the school in Auckland.

They'd all been contributing to the long running drama about Grace's scholarship, but their lack of funds meant that Grace couldn't board. So she had come up with plan B. She and her sisters had talked about it, sitting on the back door step, they had talked through the plan and how to present it to their parents. And her sisters helped her to execute it. She had had butterflies in her stomach, wondering whether she really knew what she was doing then.

Now, almost two decades later, she was feeling the same. She felt vulnerable. All because last light she realised that she was no longer in control of her feelings. Realised that for her, the man sleeping in her bed was the one. The one she had dreamt of as a little girl, the one she had thought about as a teenager, the one she had waited for. The one she loved. And that scared her. She had grown up surrounded by love. Loving her sisters and parents, and being loved in return. But while she knew that she loved him, and she knew that he wanted her, she didn't have the faintest idea whether he loved her. But she knew that he had a disproportional view of responsibility. Of honour. Of integrity.

She should have told him. Earlier, much earlier, she should have told him. Too late for that now. Having spent time with him, she knew he would feel guilty. She closed her eyes, tried to visualise sitting here talking to her sisters, asking for advice. With a quiet laugh she opened her eyes. Sasha would tell her to get over herself and if the sex was good to just keep going! Briar would not doubt tell her to take the relevant precautions. Grace groaned. Too late for that now. They hadn't even used a condom. She felt like a naïve twit. But what had happened between them last night and the way it had happened, had been perfect. It had been more than she had been expecting. Her first orgasm was the most honest candid carnal miracle she'd ever felt. She had waited her whole life to feel so replete, to feel so magnificent. Even now, just thinking about it, she could feel her heartbeat escalate. He made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Without previous experience to count on, she had gone with her own imagination and learnt from his lead. She had always been a fast learner. And he was a good teacher, really good. She had reasoned that the touch that set her heart pounding, as if it had just worked through a marathon at a sprinters pace, would work on him too. So she had tasted with her tongue, raked with her nails and brushed with her lips. His response was electric. She could still hear his heart, feel his thrusts as he'd tensed and yelled and joined her in that bone melting climax. Just thinking about it was making her damp. She closed her eyes, saw his. She could remember exactly when his changed to register shock as he realised that she wasn't experienced. She knew he would make an issue of it, take responsibility, and probably subconsciously feel that she had misled him.