'The black man stepped back in the aisle and she let go of the handhold. He began buttoning his coat. She panicked. Was he going to get off with her? What if he was some kind of pervert? A rapist?' We must live close together. I'm in Dudley Gardens. I'll get off here with you. It's not far to walk.' He bent and stared out of the window. 'I think the rain has stopped.'Elizabeth's mind raced. He was so polite. And he didn't look like an axe murderer.' Are you all right, Ma'am?'She looked up at him and smiled, then glanced into the dark street. 'Yes, of course. But this is my stop, now'She rose and he stood to one side to allow her to squeeze past.The drizzle started again almost as soon as they'd left the bus and from his briefcase her companion produced the smallest folding umbrella Elizabeth had ever seen. Huddling close to get under it she felt his arm encircle her. She liked that. Apart from anything else it was sensible. Practical. But also enjoyable. Exciting even. She, Elizabeth. Morey stood behind her while she cleaned the dishes…close behind her, insinuating himself between her cheeks and rubbing slowly up and down while his hands reached up under her shirt to pinch her nipples.She was practically swooning by the time she was done. She had to force herself to stack the plates neatly in the drainer, then rinse and wring out the sponge and put it back in its holder—she had learned that much, at least—before turning to face Morey.Morey had slowly peeled the t-shirt up and over her head, leaving her naked. Then--being Morey—he’d let her stand there like that, panting, while he folded her shirt and hung it over the back of a chair, a process that seemed to Susan to go on for hours. But at last he turned back to her…looked her coolly up and down, enjoying her arousal……Then reached into the pantry, pulled her frilly yellow apron off its hook and tossed it to her. Then he went and sat down at the kitchen table. And waited.She’d served him breakfast like that,.
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