'No, I'm not sure. But she'll be sixteen in a few days. She'll soon be an adult. I don't want her to have these nightmares for the rest of her life. And what about college? How do you think she'll get on if she's still sleepwalking in her twenties?'
Katherine nodded. 'Where would you take her?'
'I don't know. Colorado maybe. I'll speak to a travel agent.'
'When?'
'She's due a week off soon, right? That thing they do in Maryland to save money in winter.'
'You mean Energy Conservation Week? I think the idea is to save the world's natural resources.'
'Yeah, whatever. It's the perfect opportunity. I could make it a birthday present. Just a few days, a week at most.'
'You're sure you're not just trying to get away from me?' she said, pouting.
Freeman walked over and knelt down before her. 'Don't be silly, Kat. I love you.' He kissed her on the lips. He could taste the brandy and Coke. She kissed him back, sliding her hand around the back of his neck and running her fingers through his hair. He broke away first. 'I'll always love you,' he said, his eyes shining with desire.
'I know,' she said. She kissed him again, harder this time.
The drive from the city centre to his house in Tuscany Road was always a major ego boost for Nelson. On the way up Charles Street he crossed North Avenue and its crack-houses, hookers and street beggars which typified Baltimore's urban decay, the image the city fathers tried so hard to gloss over by promoting its convention centres, Inner Harbour shopping malls and baseball stadium. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, North Avenue was where Nelson came from. He'd been brought up in a twobedroomed cockroach-infested row house close to the corner of North Avenue and Greenmount, one of five children, with a father who left when he was three months old and a mother who sold heroin to make ends meet. She was long dead, his mother, and so were two of his brothers, one of a drugs overdose, the other shot by a burglar high on cocaine. That was par for the course in Baltimore. What wasn't typical was the fact that Nelson had escaped from his background, had worked his way through college and graduate school and had started on a career path that was going to take him all the way to the top. There wasn't anything a young, good-looking, ambitious black male couldn't do with a Democrat in the White House and affirmative action the order of the day.
Further up Charles Street, between 29th and University Parkway, was Johns Hopkins University, where he'd studied with a vengeance, studied harder than anyone had ever studied before because he had something to prove and something to escape from. He'd spent more hours in the library than he had in bed, and when he wasn't studying he was flipping burgers at Burger King, washing dishes at countless restaurants and bagging groceries for overweight white suburban housewives.
After four years he left Hopkins with a BA, dishpan hands and student loans that kept him on a diet of beans and rice for a long time. It had also given him an appetite for work that stood him in good stead in the world of banking. He was always first at his desk and he made it a point not to leave if there was anyone else on the floor.
Nelson could see that Jenny was impressed by the large colonial houses shaded by leafy trees with two-car garages and lawns that needed ride-on mowers. He slowed down and drove the Jaguar up to his house. 'I love it,' she said as she walked up to the front door. 'How long have you lived here?'
'A couple of years,' he lied. He'd actually bought it just six months earlier and it was mortgaged to the hilt.
He unlocked the front door and ushered her in, switching the lights on as she walked into the hallway. She looked around appreciatively, put her bag by the door, and went into the sitting room. As always the room was immaculate he spent so little time there it rarely got untidy. There were two leather chesterfields either side of a fireplace with a gas fire that looked like it was filled with real coal, a steel and chrome shelving system which contained his stereo and CD collection, and a big-screen television. Nelson had seen the furniture in the window of a downtown store and had bought it as a job lot.
He'd even gone to the trouble of matching the thick-pile carpet to the colour used in the window display. 'Can I get you a drink?' he asked.
'Sure. What have you got?'
'I've got vodka in the icebox.'
'Great.'
Nelson went into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator. He had a bottle of Absolut next to his ice cubes, but in the vegetable chiller he saw something he thought Jenny might appreciate even more. He took the bottle of Tattinger champagne out and carried it into the sitting room with two long-stemmed glasses. She was standing by the window, toying with a vase of freshly cut flowers.
His cleaning lady replaced them every three or four days. 'How about this instead?' he asked.
'Terrific,' she said. 'Are we celebrating?'
Nelson popped the cork and deftly poured the champagne into the two glasses. 'Meeting you,' he said. 'It's the best thing that's happened to me for some time.'
'Sweet-talker,' she said, taking her glass. She raised it in salute, then sipped. 'Mmmmm, good,' she said. She looked at the fireplace. 'Does it work?' she asked.
'It's gas, but it looks like the real thing,' he said. He put his glass on the mantelpiece and knelt down on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire, turning the gas on and pressing the igniter button. Yellow and red flames flickered among the fake coals. As he straightened up he felt Jenny's hand touch the back of his head and then stroke his neck. He rested his cheek against her thighs and closed his eyes. She knelt down beside him and put her glass on the hearth and before he knew what was happening she was kissing him, her lips pressed tightly against his, her soft tongue probing between his teeth. He kissed her back, passionately, and his hands reached for her breasts, stroking them, teasing the nipples until they hardened. She broke away, gasping for breath.
'Do you have any pillows?' she asked.
'Pillows?' he repeated, confused.
She stroked the sheepskin rug, her scarlet nails highlighted by the white fur. 'I've never done it on a sheepskin rug,' she said.
Nelson grinned, unable to believe his luck. 'I'll be right back,' he said.
He rushed upstairs, took off his jacket and grabbed two pillows from his bed. He had a sudden thought and went through to his bathroom. He gave himself a couple of squirts of a minty breath freshener and from the top shelf of his medicine cabinet he took two Trojan condoms. He didn't like wearing them, but more and more girls insisted on it, until they got to know him anyway. He was halfway out of the bathroom door when he had another thought and returned for a third. He didn't want to have to break off for replacements if things went as well as he expected them to. He slipped the condoms into his back pocket.
When he got back downstairs, Jenny was standing naked by the fireplace, holding the two champagne-filled glasses. Her clothes were in a tidy pile on one of the sofas. 'What took you so long?' she asked, handing him a glass.
Nelson dropped the pillows on to the rug and loosened his tie with one hand as he took the champagne. Jenny clinked glasses with him. 'This is going to be the best,' she promised. She'd arranged her long blonde hair so that it hung over her breasts and almost to her crotch. It was the most erotic sight Nelson had ever seen – she was naked and yet at the same time hidden. His throat felt as dry as sand and he gulped the champagne down in one go.
Jenny picked the bottle of champagne off the mantelpiece and refilled his glass. As she moved, Nelson could see the triangle of soft blonde curls where her thighs joined.
He took his tie off and threw it on top of her clothes and began unbuttoning his shirt. He couldn't take his eyes off her body.
For the first time he saw a scar across her stomach, a slightly raised line that wound from her navel across to her left thigh.
It wasn't a clean surgeon's cut but jagged and rough as if it had been a long time healing. He found the scar suddenly thrilling.
He could picture her in a knife fight, eyes narrowed, crouched like a tigress.
'Let me do that,' she said, stepping forward. She undid his buttons, taking her time and scratching his chest with her nails as she worked, her eyes fixed on his. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. She took it from his hand and put it on the coffee table. Nelson stood behind her, and as she straightened up he cupped his hands around her breasts. She groaned throatily and leant against him, slipping her hands behind her back and between his thighs. He nuzzled his face in her hair.
Her perfume was intoxicating and he breathed it in. Her hands moved expertly, touching and teasing him until he felt he was going to burst.
She turned, panting as she slipped the shirt off his shoulders.
As it dropped to the ground he grabbed her and kissed her. He pressed his lips against hers as if trying to devour her, and as she sucked on his tongue she reached for his trousers and he felt her undo his belt and pull down his zipper. She did it tantalisingly slowly, kissing him all the while and moaning with passion.
Nelson ran his hands through her hair and down the small of her back. His hands felt rough against her skin as he caressed her firm buttocks. He felt his trousers fall around his ankles and then her hands moved inside his boxer shorts, holding his flesh for the first time. 'Lie down on the rug,' he gasped.
She laughed and did as she was told while he ripped off his socks and shorts. He stood over her, drinking her in with his eyes, as she moved her legs apart and smiled up at him. 'Like what you see?' she asked.
'Oh, sweet Jesus, yes,' he said, trembling. He dropped down on his knees, his arms trembling. He was surprised at the way he was reacting to her. He'd been with beautiful girls before, black and white, and it certainly wasn't the first time he'd had sex on the sheepskin rug, but she was turning him into a trembling jelly.
He was finding it hard to breathe and was sweating profusely.
He lay down next to her, licking and kissing her neck as his hands roamed over her body. His right hand moved over the scar. He could feel the raised line and he traced it across her stomach and over her thigh, then he moved his hand between her legs, trying to probe inside her, but she resisted, clamping her thighs together and denying him access. He tried to force her thighs apart but she resisted more; her leg muscles were like steel. Then she moved quickly, pushing him on to his back and kissing him again. She reached between his legs and held him, moving her hand faster and faster, until all he could think about was what she was doing and how good it felt. 'How does that feel?' she said, her voice shaking a little in time with her movements.
'It feels… unbelievable,' he said.
She moved slowly down his body, tickling the inside of his thighs with her fingertips as she allowed her hair to play over his skin. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hands. When he opened them again he had trouble focusing.