Incognito

Jenny rubbed a shiny, wet circle in the steamy bathroom mirror.  A blurred vision of her face reflected back at her.  She scooped up a handful of expensive face cream from a wide-necked jar and spread it thickly over her face then, stepping into the bath she lowered herself into the warm, scented water.  It was her favourite fragrance, jasmine and roses.

Jenny knew he wouldn’t come before midnight and that gave her two hours of precious time to herself.  She moved sensuously in the water, smoothing the soft skin of her legs and thighs with her hands and letting the creamy bubbles lap around her breasts and shoulders.

The children were asleep now.  They’d been excited for most of the day. Not naughty—just bundles of energy, moving from one activity to the next, not able to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few minutes at a time. Jenny had thought they would never settle down for the night, but at last, after a milky drink, and a story, she had sung to them You’d better watch out, You’d better not cry, and Beth and James had succumbed to sleep.

In the bathroom Jenny dried her hair with a soft, warm towel, then went into the bedroom to finish it off with the hair drier, setting it on low, not risking the high setting for fear of waking the children. Tonight she wanted him all to herself.

The bedroom, warm and comforting, glowed in mellow candlelight.  Jenny slipped into her nightdress, diaphanous, revealing.  She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her long dark hair, pleased with her reflection, confident and excited. At the window she parted the curtains and looked out.  Earlier there had been a fall of snow but now the skies were clear and the garden moonlit.  She let the curtain fall back into place and went to lie on the bed to wait for him.

At midnight she heard his key in the lock and felt the cold draught of air that rushed in when he opened the door.  She heard the stamp of his boots as he knocked the snow off them and listened for the gentle thud as the door closed behind him.  He laboured up the stairs, hampered, no doubt, by the weight of his bag, and went first into the children’s bedrooms.

Jenny lay quiet and still, then the bedroom door opened and he came in.

‘Ho, Ho, Ho,’ he said when he saw her there.

She had placed a bottle of wine and two glasses on the bedside table but he didn’t touch them.

He undid the brass buckle of his broad leather belt and let it fall to the floor.

‘Hush,’ she said, ‘you’ll waken the children.’

The red tunic and baggy trousers made him look broader and bigger than he really was.  He sat down to pull off his boots but kept his eyes on Jenny.  Then he took off his tunic and trousers and blew out the candles.  He went to the window and threw back the curtains so that the room was bathed in pale moonlight.  Then he was beside her on the bed, his arms around her, his hands wandering about her body.  Carefully he removed her nightdress.

When he kissed her, she could taste the liquor in his mouth. Not brandy, or whisky—but something just as familiar.  His long white hair flowed over her, nestling into the folds of her neck.  He still wore his false beard and she laughed as she felt it scratchy against her cheek. The fabric of his underwear was rough next to her skin. She touched it with her hand and opened her eyes to see that he was wearing a long-sleeved granddad vest. The sight of it stirred her in a strange way.  She had not realised that Santa costumes came with their own underwear. She moved her hand downwards over the long johns.

‘You are still half-dressed,’ she said. 

‘Not for long,’ he replied.

Urgently he undressed and then they were in bed, under the covers. First came the pleasure and then the ecstasy.  His fingers touched her in places that sent flames rushing through her body. Again and again he caressed her, each time with new techniques and an expertise she had not known he possessed. His body was different tonight.  He seemed more mature, heavier, but none the less desirable.  

At last, she slept in his arms, peaceful, secure.

The children were awake before daybreak.  She wakened to hear their screams of delight as they opened their presents.  The bedroom curtains were drawn across the window and the room was in darkness.  Jenny sat up, adjusted her nightdress, and switched on the bedside light.

Gavin, her husband lay beside her.  His short, black hair contrasted against the white pillow.  He turned over, shading his eyes against the light.

Beth and James, clutching as many toys as they could, came bounding into the bedroom. They dumped the toys on to the bed and clambered up after them.

Gavin looked at her bleary-eyed. ‘Rough night,’ he said. ‘Didn’t get back till two.  You were sleeping peacefully so I didn’t disturb you.’

‘Where’s your costume?’ she whispered.

‘Left it at the club.  I came home by taxi.  I didn’t want to look silly dressed as Santa.’

Jenny heard the children’s voices as if from a long distance away.  She was looking at the pillow behind her. There, caught in the light from the bedside lamp, lay a long, silvery hair.