Territory (50 page)

She looked hurt, Kit thought. But she shouldn't be. He decided it would be best if he told the truth—well, some of it at least. ‘I've met a girl,' he said.

Aggie looked up from her lychees.

‘A girl from work, I don't really know her that well, and I'm not pretending she's the woman of my dreams …' That sounded a little derogatory, he thought. ‘Well, she might be,' he hastily added, ‘I don't know yet, but …' He grinned self-consciously, ‘she reckons she fancies me, and she's bloody good looking.'

Relief, mingled with a sense of her own foolishness, flooded through Aggie. He wasn't fed up with her, he didn't despise her. He was a young man with a young man's lusts, and of course he must move out of the nest she'd built for him. Foong Lee had tried to warn her and she hadn't listened. She'd behaved like an over-possessive mother.

‘Well, well, well,' she said with a suggestive smile, hoping Kit hadn't noticed her vulnerability. ‘I trust when you come up for air you'll visit me from time to time.'

‘Of course I will,' he said, ‘you're my best friend.' It was the truth and he meant it from the bottom of his heart. ‘You're the best friend I have in the world, Aggie.'

She glowed, it was all she needed to hear.

As Aggie started to hoe into her lychees and ice-cream, Foong Lee, watching from several tables away, breathed a sigh of relief. Catastrophe averted, he thought.

 

Kit was determined to find a place on his own. Most young people in Darwin shared houses and flats, properties for lease being in such heavy demand that rentals were high, but Kit was adamant. Perhaps because of his fear that flatmates might overhear the cries in his sleep, perhaps simply because of his lust for Lisa, or perhaps, as he told himself, because he needed the privacy to write.

Eventually his determination paid off, and he found a small downstairs bed-sitting room affair, tucked neatly between the stilts of an attractive old house in Lindsay Street, near Frogs Hollow. Bob O'Malley, retired builder, had built the little granny flat himself five years previously for his elderly mother, but the old lady had recently died, and Bob and his wife were keen to let it out.

Tess O'Malley was most impressed by the fact that their tenant was none other than Terence Galloway's son and she initially encouraged Kit to ‘come upstairs for a cup of tea whenever you feel like it'. He made it clear, as politely as he could, that all of his spare time was given to writing and she soon got the message and left him alone, thankful that at least he was a ‘quiet' young man. Kit revelled in his new-found independence.

The Friday after he'd moved in, he invited Lisa back to his place following the customary session at the Vic and she accepted with alacrity.

He let them in through the private side entrance to the flat, hoping that Lisa's loud giggles wouldn't wake Mrs O'Malley upstairs. Lisa was pissed again, but not legless this time.

‘What a cute place,' Lisa said, looking around at the open-plan bed-sitting room. It was a bit pokey, she thought.

There was a kitchenette at the far end, a sofa which pulled out to a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a rather impressive desk with two chairs by the windows. Only the barest of essentials, but the overall effect was attractive. Aggie had insisted upon donating the desk, which also served as a dining table, just as she had insisted upon Kit having the cushions, bedspread and curtains from his room at her place.

‘I bought them especially for you,' she'd said, ‘and they'll make the flat feel homey.' She was right, they did.

‘Is there a bathroom?' Lisa asked, she was dying for a pee.

‘Through there.' Kit indicated the door to the right of the entrance which led into a tiny bathroom. ‘The en suite,' Tess O'Malley had proudly announced when she'd showed him the flat.

He opened the bottle of riesling he'd bought the previous day in the hope that Lisa would come home with him and, by the time she'd returned from the bathroom, he'd filled the two wine glasses which he'd also purchased the previous day.

They sat on the sofa, clinked glasses and sipped.

‘How did you win your medal?' Lisa asked.

‘Eh?' Kit was nonplussed by the question.

‘Janice's dad says you're a war hero.' Kit looked blankly at her. ‘You've met Janice,' she prompted him. ‘My girlfriend who comes into the office sometimes, we have lunch together. You
know
,' she seemed a little frustrated that Janice didn't spring immediately to his mind, ‘Janice Rowlands, she works in the post office.'

‘Oh. Janice. Yes.'

‘Well her dad says you won a medal for bravery. Janice reckons that's fantastic.'

‘Oh.' Kit took another sip of his wine, he really didn't like white wine, he thought as he wondered how to change the conversation.

‘So what did you win it for?'

There was only one way. He put the glass down on the floor and stared at her intensely for a moment.

‘You're terrific looking, Lisa,' he said. It worked. She smiled, gave a gentle scoff and shook her head in that pseudo-self-deprecating way girls sometimes did when they wanted to hear more.

‘You really are, you're beautiful.' He studied the lustre of her hair and the darkness of her thick-lashed eyes and the fullness of her mouth. ‘Very, very beautiful,' he repeated softly as he ran his finger along the curve of her jawline and down her neck. He meant it, she was glorious, and he desired her immensely.

Kit Galloway had always had success with women. His unassuming air won them from the outset, he appeared completely unaware of the impact he had on the opposite sex. He was easygoing, friendly, non-threatening, and sometimes frustrating to women who expected flirtation. As a result, they were overwhelmed to discover, when he finally did make a move, that he was a skilful lover. He'd not worked hard to perfect the art of seduction, it came naturally to him. He was honest in his admiration. He genuinely loved women. He loved the look of them, the feel of them, the taste and the smell of them. He loved making love to women.

Lisa, mesmerised by his intensity, had been watching him study her. Finally she gave a self-conscious giggle, still unable to take her eyes from his as they wandered from her throat to her breasts. ‘I know what you're after, Kit Galloway.'

Kit gazed at the slight moistness he could see between the cleavage which pouted from the scooped neck of her T-shirt. It was a hot humid night. ‘Yes,' he said, and he took the glass of wine from her, placing it beside his on the floor.

Lisa was accustomed to chatting for a while before she did it. She was good at flirting. That was what a girl was supposed to do. It was part of the game. Then you pretended that you were taken by surprise, and it just happened. She was about to say something but suddenly he was kissing her, his tongue gently exploring her mouth, his hand caressing her breast, soft but insistent fingers finding her responsive nipple, and Lisa's rules of etiquette went out the window.

The white wine tasted different mingled with her saliva, Kit thought, it tasted womanly and desirable, and he could feel her nipple hardening beneath the thin lace of her brassiere. He knew that he'd have to keep himself in check, it had been so long and she felt so good.

They didn't bother to pull the bed out, they undressed each other and made love on the sofa.

At twenty-three Lisa Langello considered herself a modern young woman, it was the age of sexual liberation, after all, and she'd made love on sofas before, and on floors, and once in the backseat of a Holden. She and her friend Janice shared a theory that sofas, floors and car seats constituted ‘quickies' and were never as good as when a man wooed you properly, taking you out to dinner and then back to his place for drinks and intimate conversation before the ultimate seduction. ‘Well, it's polite for starters,' Janice maintained, ‘and it certainly gets you more in the mood.' Lisa had agreed. But tonight, as she felt herself teased beyond endurance, as every fibre in her quivered with a desire she'd never known, as she heard her animal moans of pleasure and felt her muscles contracting in waves of fulfillment, the theory's credibility was forever undermined.

They lay in a heap on the sofa, chests heaving, skin slippery with mingled sweat and then, when he'd recovered himself, Kit rose, pulling her gently to her feet, and kissed her.

‘I'll make the bed up,' he said.

‘Okay,' for once Lisa was lost for words.

They lay naked on the bed with just a sheet over them and she nuzzled herself into the crook of his shoulder, he loved the feel of her there.

As they lightly dozed off in each other's arms, Kit realised that he'd been lonely. He'd never really been in love. In fact he wasn't sure if he knew what ‘being in love' was, but he'd very much missed having a woman in his life. In his state of semi-sleep, he ran his fingers along the silken curve of Lisa's hip. So beautiful.

She raised her head drowsily and looked at him as he gazed at the ceiling. ‘What are you thinking about?' she asked.

‘You,' he said. And they made love again.

 

‘Not a good idea, Kit,' Nick Coustas warned.

‘What?'

‘Screwing a bird from work.' Nick was always direct.

Kit tried to ignore him, but Maxie's advice, although more tastefully voiced, was the same.

‘Girlfriends and work don't mix, mate, you should know that.'

‘We're just going out together,' Kit said, attempting to dodge the issue, but they were right and he knew it. In fact he was already in trouble. He and Lisa had been sleeping together on a weekly basis for four months now, and she was starting to suggest they move in together.

Kit had been taken aback when she'd first proposed the idea, but as usual he'd decided that honesty was the best policy.

‘I'm not ready to live with anyone, Lisa.'

‘Oh don't be silly,' she said, ‘I don't mean
live together
like
that
!'

‘Like what?'

‘Like a
couple,
you
know.
I'm not asking you to
commit
yourself or anything.'

Surely that's exactly what she was asking, Kit thought. They were sleeping together, after all.

‘It's just that I'm sick of sharing with that bunch of yobbos in Mitchell Street, and you're sick of this pokey little flat and we could find a really beaut place if we shared the rent.'

‘But I'm not sick of this pokey little flat.' He loved his pokey little flat. And he loved his independence.

‘Oh all right,' she said huffily, ‘
be
like that!' But minutes later she was snuggling up to him again. ‘I hate it when we fight.' He didn't know it had been a fight.

They made love and the subject was forgotten. Until a week later. And then the week after that. But Kit refused to give in, he could be very stubborn when he wished.

The fact was, Lisa did want a commitment. She hadn't really realised it until Janice had pointed out what a catch Kit Galloway was.

‘Terence Galloway's son! Jeez, Lisa, you're mad if you don't grab him. You said yourself, everyone at work reckons he's going places, and he'll get all of his Dad's money one day.' Janice had even told her she should get pregnant, ‘he'd have to marry you then.' But Lisa didn't go off the pill. She didn't want to get pregnant. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to get married, she'd always felt she was destined to be something more than a housewife. But she always listened to Janice, and if Janice said Kit Galloway was such a catch then of course she was mad if she didn't try to snare him.

 

‘This is Lisa, Dad. Lisa Langello.'

‘How do you do, Mr Galloway.' Lisa all but dropped a
curtsy. She'd been nagging Kit for ages to introduce her to his father, and he'd finally taken her along to Galloway Motors on a Saturday morning. She'd rather he'd invited her to dinner at the big house in Larrakeyah, but he said he didn't go there much himself.

‘Ah, you're the girlfriend,' Terence loudly declared as he took her hand warmly in both of his. ‘Hello, Lisa.'

Lisa beamed and nodded. So Kit had been talking about her to his father, that was good.

Terence had actually heard the news from Aggie who'd met the girlfriend a number of times.

‘A lass who works at the newspaper,' she'd simply said, ‘they've been going out for a good six months now.'

Terence had had the feeling that Aggie didn't altogether approve of the girlfriend. He could see why. She oozed sexuality. Aggie Marshall, dried up old prune that she was, would probably have preferred to see Kit with a scholarly, bespectacled type. Terence himself was surprised that Kit could attract a girl like Lisa Langello. What could she possibly see in him?

‘Why don't we come up to my office for a coffee?' he suggested and, without waiting for an answer, he led the way.

‘What a lovely office,' Lisa said admiringly. Office, she thought, it was a bloody movie set, no-one she knew had an office like this. Leather armchairs, mahogany desk, a bar in the corner, and what about the view! She wandered over to the plate-glass windows and looked down at the rows of shiny vehicles on the showroom floor. ‘Fantastic,' she said.

‘Yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?' Terence agreed, he liked it when people admired the showroom. ‘Business is doing very well at the moment. Booming in fact. The market's good. Sit down, Lisa, please, you too, Kit.' He gestured to the armchairs and they sat. ‘Coffee's on its way, anyone like anything a little stronger?' He crossed to the bar to pour himself a Scotch.

‘Bit early for me, Dad, coffee'll do fine,' Kit said.

‘Lisa? How about a champagne?' Lisa gave a breathless giggle, it wasn't even lunchtime. ‘Come on,' Terence urged, ‘it's not every day a man meets his son's girlfriend.'