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Five Days
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Jennifer Green

Romantic Fiction



It was that smile that had first grabbed my attention in the club. We’d both been at the bar – she with two of her mates and I was there with my friend Gerry and his wife. I’d been their best man – what a great day that had been. They’d dragged me to the club under protest, saying I needed a night out. I’d been working quite hard getting everything in order before my stint abroad. I remember she’d caught me staring at her, and instead of getting a bit huffy and looking away she grinned and winked.  It was so quick that I almost didn’t believe it had happened. Any bloke who thinks they decide whether to initiate a relationship is fooling himself. You see, it probably takes women a couple of years to realise they are the ones in control. Little hints and signs they give off are what kicks a bloke into action. All the time the guy is thinking he’s taking the initiative when really, she started it – very subtly of course – after all they don’t want to bruise our egos!


Though I say so myself, I thought I looked pretty hot at the nightclub. I’m not what you’d call well endowed, but I’ve got some cleavage – and the halter top I was wearing showed off my assets pretty well. Well, half of my assets - the mini skirt and high heeled shoes did the rest. I caught lots of guys looking at me, but he was different. He looked cute, and was less cocky than the others. But best of all, he was embarrassed I’d caught him looking at me. I gave him my best wink – and I knew I had him as soon as I saw his double take.

Within five minutes the couple he was with were off dancing, and Jill and Claire were nowhere to be seen. I never did find out if they pulled. He bought me a drink and you didn’t need to have my psychology degree to read the body language. As we sat and talked like long lost friends, his eye contact was phenomenal without being creepy. I adored the way he brushed my arm, and even better than all that, was that he could dance!

The dancefloor was perfect for me to really give him the once over. Actually, he was worth more than one look. His sandy hair was cut fairly close, pretty much like most of the other guys in the place. Not surprising this close to Aldershot. His clean shaved face held a brilliant lopsided grin. When we danced close together in the slow numbers I could feel a hint of stubble. But more impressively I could feel solid muscles in his upper body. He clearly trained hard. I lay my head on the shoulder of his neatly pressed shirt – with my four inch heels I was almost his height. He nibbled my ears, fortunately avoiding the diamond stud earrings, kissed my neck and stroked my cheek. For my part, I gently used my nails on his back, and returned the kisses on his neck and chest. I’m normally pretty conservative and cautious, but I really felt like I wanted to drag him away and rip his clothes off.

He asked if he could take me home, though of course he knew the answer already. There was no way I was letting him go that easily. My mum and dad’s house was only a short distance away, so even with my shoes we agreed walking would be quicker than waiting for a cab.

As we walked back through the quiet streets, the cool air was clearing my head. His arm was round my shoulder and my arm rested across his back with my hand in one of his back pockets, so it was resting on his bum. Another of his many good features. Despite the frequent stops for cuddles and more of his brilliant kisses, he was the perfect gentlemen – well, comparatively speaking. He caressed my boobs through my top, but didn’t try anything else. Believe me that was good going! He got a lot further than any other guy on a first date with me! 

We stopped at my parents’ front gate, and kissed some more as I leant against the gatepost. The smell of dad’s roses just added to the magic of the moment. One thing I’ve learned – Jenny’s rule number 1, a guy who is a good kisser is almost certainly a good lover. The tragedy my now clear head was thinking over, was that I may never find out – in a few days I’d be leaving the country. Any such thoughts were banished as I heard him asking if I wanted to go out tomorrow afternoon. I had planned to start organising packing, but that could wait. With a final hug I unlatched myself from his arms, opened the gate and with my heels clicking on the path and my head spinning I got to the door. I turned and smiled, and for the second time that night I gave him my best wink.


It had been on Sunday in the country park when it had all come out. We’d been there about half an hour, and were watching mum, dad and a gaggle of kids throwing bread to the ducks. As they became more adventurous the quacking horde had jumped out of the lake and pursued their benefactors on land. The children laughed excitedly as the ducks surrounded them and fought over the crumbs. 

I had been thinking how to tell her and was about to blurt it out when those blue eyes fixed on mine and she quietly whispered:

“I’m going away on Thursday”

I remember staring at her, I guess my mouth was open – the noise of the squabbling ducks was a million miles away as I told her I was too. Holding hands, sitting on the grass by the lake we told our stories.  A six month secondment in the warm Californian sun at UCLA, and a six month stint in a different sort of heat - Dharfur Province, Afghanistan.

The worst side effect of all this was to reinforce the realisation that something special was developing between us. The rest of the afternoon passed in a series of quiet conversations, lingering embraces and a few tears.

“What happens now?” I asked as we sat outside her house in my car.

“I want desperately to make love to you, but I don’t think I can. I just couldn’t stand it not knowing if I’ll ever see you again.”

We held each other for what seemed like a lifetime, and with tears making the sapphire eyes shine even more, Jenny gave me a last kiss and headed for the front door.


What a crap three days it had been. Just my luck, to meet a guy I really clicked with just before he disappears for six months. Not that it would have made much difference, I was going away too – warmer climes beckoned

Jeff’s phone call had been as welcome as it had been unexpected. For three days I had felt like I was carrying a lead weight around. But there had been no pleasantries, no “how are you”s, he’d just blurted it out.

“Listen, I think I’ve fallen in love with you – and if we only ever do it once I want to make love to you.”

The arrangements that he’d find us a hotel and meet me at the station were concluded in seconds. It was my birthday and Christmas all at the same time. Mum and dad were a bit upset that I wouldn’t be at home for my last night, but they had seen how I had been since Sunday and how I was now, and knew it was the right thing.

The train journey was a bit of a blur, all I could think of was holding him in my arms again. The train pulled in, I unplugged my iPod and I helped a woman with a pushchair to get off the train. There he was looking just like I had imagined with that stupid, glorious lopsided grin. I wanted to do a Heathcliffe/Kathy scene and run to him and jump into his arms. But the students, mums, kids and assorted passengers emptying off the train ruined my film moment. But nothing was going to ruin today ….


I’ve read quite a lot of books, and there’s one cliché I’ve never really got – that’s when they say “his heart leapt”. What the hell does that mean? Well, the truth is now I know.  You see, that’s exactly what happened the minute I saw her get off the train.

As the blue, white and red South Western train pulled in I was standing by the exit. I had butterflies in my stomach, and was almost sick with anxiety. I found it hard to believe we’d only spent a couple of days together, well not even that. Which way would she come from? The front or the rear of the train? My head was swinging wildly left and right – any onlooker would have been thinking I was watching a rally at Wimbledon. Then, towards the back of the train, through a crowd of college students, people leaving work early and mums with pushchairs, I saw her. God, she looked terrific. Even more gorgeous than in the photo I took on my phone-camera three long days ago.

The short, spiky blonde hair was exactly the same as it had been – well let’s face it, when it’s that short you can’t change it very much. But the jeans and trainers she’d worn on our trip to the country park on Sunday had been replaced by a short denim skirt and some heeled shoes. Sunday’s white tee shirt had turned into a pink, sleeveless shirt/blouse thing that showed off her toned and tanned arms. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to work out she was definitely very fit – in both a literal and colloquial sense.

As she got nearer, I could see those flashing, bright blue eyes, and the noise of the crowded platform and the smell of diesel fumes from the train melted into the background as she approached me. I could tell I had a completely stupid grin on my face as she crossed the last few metres to where I stood. She dropped her overnight bag, reached up and put both arms round my neck and looked into my eyes with those flashing blue sapphires. Then she closed them slowly and reached up opening her mouth for a long, lingering kiss. As I held her tight, one arm round her waist and the other gently caressing her back, she smelled like a freshly bathed baby, with just a hint of what I knew to be Elle by Yves Saint Laurent. The kiss was like an electric shock running down my body bouncing off my feet and spiralling back up. It seemed to last forever, but eventually we slowly parted and opened our eyes. From six inches away she looked at me with a smug grin, and I wondered just what I had done to deserve this beautiful woman. Then it occurred to me that maybe it was a curse, because we both knew that tomorrow we would be snatched apart, just as abruptly as we’d fallen for each other.

“I think I imagined that kiss every five minutes since I got your call this morning – and none of the imaginary kisses came anywhere close to that!”

“Tell me about it”, was all my scrambled brain could think of to say. Then I pulled her towards me again for an action replay. By the time we’d moved away, the platform was deserted.

She clung onto me with both of her arms round my free arm as I swung her bag into the boot of my Golf. I asked her what she wanted to do. Go for a walk? Freshen up?  We’d known each other for such a short time that I was still unsure about her ideas and preferences. After all the only time we’d spent together was an evening at the club when we met, then Sunday afternoon and evening the next day.

“If we go to the hotel, do you think we’d ever get out again?”

“Probably not”, I grinned.

“Good, then let’s go!” and she kissed me lightly on the cheek, and got in the passenger seat.

I climbed into the car next to her – the pounding in my heart from the minutes we had spent locked together on the platform had just about subsided.  As I changed up through the gears on the short trip to the hotel, I let my hand gently brush against her thigh, until I eventually let it rest there. As I caressed the top of her tanned leg with soft, slow strokes, the question of if it was an all over tan mischievously sprang into my head. But I dismissed it, smiling to myself that I was just a few minutes from finding out. I slowly moved my hand to her inner thighs and her knees parted an almost imperceptible amount in some kind of auto response. Then the real response came as she clamped her thighs together, trapping my hand, which she then slowly moved away with the instruction to concentrate on the driving.

Once in the hotel room she looked at me and purred mischievously:

“There’s only one bed, where are you sleeping?”

“Oh I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight. I’ve a long flight tomorrow, I can sleep then.”

As soon as I said it I saw the shadow fall across her face.

The sadness and despair I felt that Sunday evening was in sharp contrast to the elation of how I felt now in the Travel Inn. We held each other and I slowly undid the buttons of her pink shirt….


I felt his hands slowly unbuttoning my shirt, and I tugged the hem of tee shirt to raise it over his head. We both wanted to do this slowly… after all the next fifteen hours was going to have to last us six months for sure, and possibly a lifetime.


The British Airways Club Class Passenger Lounge at Heathrow was a distinct contrast to the Departure building at RAF Lyneham. Passenger J Finch and Lieutenant J Williams both only had thoughts of their parting a few hours earlier. Jeff’s lopsided smile had echoed Bogey’s parting words in Casablanca, but somehow “We’ll always have Bracknell” didn’t quite compare to “We’ll always have Paris”.

Jenny looked around at the thirty odd men and women under her command. She wondered how many would come back in body bags, and if she would be one – if so, then at least she would have died knowing how it felt to love and be loved.

© Jennifer Green, 2007

©, 2010