I have the radio on all day at home. For those in the UK, Radio 2, and on Sundays there is a show tunes programme The inspiration for this story comes from 'Cheek to Cheek' being played, hence the title and, apologies to Seven Dragons for, possibly, pinching something from her latest 'The Last Dance'.
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Jean leant against the door. Thank goodness, at last she had managed to get the doctor out of the house, his suitcase packed with everything he needed for a formal dinner dance.
He had been invited to a journalist's dinner, by, of all people Joy McDonald. Jean knew he didn't want to go, after all, Joy was only after one thing and he, for some strange reason that Jean couldn't fathom out, wasn't prepared to go there.
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Lucien drove more slowly than usual to Melbourne. When Joy had invited him to the dinner he had asked her if he could call her back in case there was something in his diary.
Jean had assured him that there was nothing keeping him from the engagement, even though she didn't want him to go. But why? She had no claim on him, other than the fact that she couldn't stand the woman. So she had had his dinner suit cleaned, his dress shirt was pressed and his shoes polished.
Lucien had no love of formal functions. Too much drink on offer that he was trying to reduce his consumption of, nosy and rather pompous newspaper men, in this case, trying to find the dirt on the participants. Urgh!
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Joy had been delighted to see him and he had to admit she looked rather...nice.
He had eaten a well prepared meal, from the starters of a light French Onion Soup, to the dessert of Raspberry Pavlova via Roast Lamb; nowhere near as good as Jean's he mused, and had drunk less because he was constantly being talked at and had to answer.
He had danced with Joy and some other women he didn't know but somehow the music was bland and his smile forced.
He escorted Joy to her hotel, the same as his and somehow she had engineered her room to be on the same floor as his. As he left her at the door to her room he knew she expected him to kiss her at the very least, and possibly make love to her, but as he looked at her he realised he had no desire for the young woman and made the excuse of tiredness and having to drive in the morning, 'Patients, you know'.
He saw her disappointment but knew she would have been more disappointed if he had taken her to bed. For Lucien without desire there would be no intimacy. He knew he didn't desire Joy, he liked her, as a friend, but no more; there was someone just a little out of reach for him.
He undressed and washed and changed into his pyjamas and got into bed. He lay on his back contemplating the ceiling. There was a flaw in the plaster, like a hair curl, like her hair curl; the side lamp threw a shadow almost like her figure, her form, slight and precise. He turned out the light and closed his eyes and sleep claimed him.
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The music soared, waltzes and slow foxtrots, and in his arms the loveliest of all women. They floated round and above the dance floor, oblivious to those around them. She smiled and laughed, threw her head back in joy and happiness and then kissed him, her naked body against his, soft, warm skin a body he took for his own.
He woke, breathing hard, and alone. A dream, only a dream, but what a dream! He'd give anything for that dream to come true.
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'Enjoy your evening, doctor?' She asked as she took the case from him.
'Pleasant, thank you, Jean.' He answered and went through to the surgery.
Jean unpacked for him and put the laundry in the basket and hung his dinner suit in the wardrobe.
'Oh well, doctor.' She muttered, 'I hope you know what you're doing.'
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The washing on the line, the patients admitted, a day like any other, but both were distracted.
He admonished Agnes for not looking after herself properly, prescribed medication and took blood pressures, but his mind was not on his work.
Jean burnt herself on the iron, daydreaming, she had to fold his pyjamas twice, making a mess of it the first time.
She shook her head, how long had she been standing by an empty board after turning the iron off. Looking at the clock she realised that surgery was over and the doctor would want his tea.
She laid the tray and made the tea, adding some freshly made sponge cake.
Outside the surgery door she took a deep breath and knocked.
'Come.' It was more of an order than an invitation.
He looked up as she entered and tried not to gasp. Even in that bloody awful apron over her blouse and skirt she looked gorgeous.
'Tea, doctor,' She smiled, and what a beautiful smile, it lit up the room, 'sorry it's late, I was distracted.'
'Thank you, Jean.' Courteous but cool. She turned to go.
'Close the door, please.' He told her. She looked at him, did he mean before she left or after. 'I need to speak to you.'
Here it comes, she thought, the dismissal, sack, call it what you will, he was going to tell her to go.
He stood up and went to her. He stood so close there was barely a hair between them. He passed one hand round her waist and the other round her shoulders, spreading his fingers up the back of her head. He pulled her too him and pressed his lips to hers.
She opened her eyes in shock, then gave in, and responded, melting into him, tasting his, by now dry mouth as he tasted hers. He pulled her curls, dislodging the pins that held them in place, and pushed her against the wall. She gasped.
'Oh, er,' He pulled away, ' Jean, I...er...'
'Will that be all, doctor.' She breathed.
'Er...yes.' he coughed, embarrassed, no, mortified, as she left the room. God, what the hell did he think he was doing, he'd practically taken her against the surgery wall, she'd leave, the tales, oh hell!
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Outside the room Jean touched her swollen lips and patted her curls. She hurried to the hall mirror and looked. Her lipstick was smeared her hair was out of place, but her eyes, her eyes shone. She smiled.
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Lucien sat down by his desk. He passed his finger over his lips and looked at the pink residue, her lipstick, he flushed like a girl. How on earth could he apologise for this? But she hadn't pushed him away, had she? He sat staring at the wall where he had pushed her, had he hurt her? He was stronger, heavier than her, he must have.
A knock on the door brought him out of his daydream.
'Yes,' his voice was sharp.
'Can I take your tray, doctor?' Jean, looking as composed as ever, curls back in place and lipstick repaired, entered.
'Thank you, Jean.' He tried to appear as if nothing had happened. She raised an eyebrow as she took the tray, noticing the cake was untouched and the tea cup had not been used.
'Dinner will be at five thirty as usual.' She announced.
'Right, yes, fine.' Why could he not string a sentence together?
She left.
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Dinner was a quiet affair, he pushed his meal around the plate and didn't talk.
She watched him, mildly amused, but how could she tell him she actually liked what he'd done to her that afternoon and if he wanted to repeat the incident she was unlikely to object. But she was his housekeeper.
Jean started to clear the table, no point in dragging it out, he wasn't eating and she had had enough. Lucien looked across at her.
'Jean?' He caught her arm, the doctor in him taking over. 'What have you done?'
'Oh, it's nothing,' she brushed it off, 'I caught myself on the iron, that's all.'
'Let me take a look.' He stood up, 'Did you cool it?'
'Probably, I can't remember.' she tried to pull her arm away, not putting much effort in to it.
He insisted on looking at it and dressing it, taking great care not to hurt her. When he had finished he helped her dry the dishes and then poured her a sherry in the living room.
Sitting across the room from her he swirled his drink. She was knitting, nothing unusual, but he had to speak to her. He tried to concentrate on the paper, but couldn't, he didn't drink his whisky. Occasionally he opened his mouth to say something but couldn't find the words, so closed it again.
Jean put her knitting away, and got up to leave.
'I'm going to bed, doctor,' she said quietly, 'unless you want me for anything else.' Deliberately phrased, wondering if he wanted her, really wanted her.
Lucien stood up and smoothed his hand over his head. Of course he wanted her for something else, he wanted to...
He cleared his throat, 'Good night, Jean.'
'Goodnight,' she said, adding very quietly, 'Lucien.' She took her glass to the kitchen and rinsed it out. He was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.
'Doctor?' somehow her voice was very low and very, very sexy.
He approached her, slowly enough for her to make good her escape, but she didn't move. He put his hand round her waist, his other hand again round the back of her head, crushing the curls, pushing his lips against hers. Feeling her mouth open he pushed his tongue inside and tasted her, sweet and warm. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing her leg up against his hip feeling his hardness through his trousers. His hands slid down to her bottom and lifted her up and she clung on with both legs. He carried her down the corridor to his room where he lay her down on the bed. She reached up and quickly undid his shirt buttons pushing the garment off his shoulders and pulling his singlet up revealing his chest, strong muscular, a light spattering of blond hairs.
He shrugged the singlet off as she pulled her own blouse off. He undid the zip of her skirt and slid it off as she undid his trousers, deliberately running her hand over his erection, becoming more excited herself. He lifted her slip up high, and she raised her arms so he could take it off her, leaving her in her bra and panties. He could see the moistness of her desire, but he needed her wholly as nature intended, wanted to taste her breasts, suckle at her nipples, it took no time for him to remove the hindrance and he took each neat small breast in turn, licking and sucking as she rose and bucked under him.
She reached down and pulled his undershorts down, wrapping her fingers round his length, hot and hard in her hand she gasped, all that was in the way was her panties and he removed them deftly, then pushing his fingers into her wet warmth. She urged him on and then pulled his hand out of the way as she guided the tip of his erection into her then pulling him down with her heels on his back until she felt him deep inside her.
He thrust, hard and urgent as she cried his name, begging for more, rising and falling as he ground into her. She saw stars as the orgasm overtook her and then felt him try to pull out,
'No!' She screamed, 'no, Lucien, please!'
She gripped him with her thighs, held him down with her heels until she felt his seed flood into her as she came again, and his cry of 'Jean, oh God, Jean!' pounded through her brain.
She held him there, their hearts pounding, gasping for breath until he softened and fell from her.
She rolled onto her side and looked at him. She was not embarrassed at their nakedness, she took her eyes down his form, strong, almost sculptured torso, long muscular thighs and between them much for a woman to want.
He in turn looked at the slight form of the woman who had just confounded all expectations. Neat round breasts, now scarred with the marks of his beard and his suckling, sweet flat stomach, surprisingly unmarked by childbirth, and an almost pretty rose of a belly button. Her slim elegant legs falling from the neat dark triangle between them.
He opened his mouth to speak but she put a finger on his lips,
'Shh.' She whispered, leaning over to kiss him, softly. then snuggling against his chest and closed her eyes, with a sweet but satisfied smile on her face.
He pulled the covers round them, and wrapped his arms over her drifting into deep and dreamless slumber.
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He woke to find he was alone in his bed and wondered if it had all been a wonderful dream. But the bed sheets and the lone strand of dark hair on the pillow told him it had all been very, very real.
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'Good morning, doctor,' she greeted him in the kitchen, 'scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, is that alright?' She smiled, it seemed to him a wicked, knowing smile.
'Lovely, thank you, Jean.' He smiled back and started to set the table for her.
Maybe things were changing, but the breakfast table was not the place to discuss night-time activities.
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Reviews and comments very welcome, especially as I have never written anything like this before. Have I gone too far? I may do more chapters, what happens next, but if I do I will take out the M element and change it to T rating. It's quite exhausting to write!