CHAPTER VI : 95, QUEENSGATE.
Inevitably our lives, mine and Omar’s, intertwined much more intimately than before. We were in constant contact. Our comings and goings started intersecting from early morning to late evening via our rooms. We would not leave or enter without knocking next door. The only time we would not answer was if we were not in. The only time he would not answer, if he was in, was if he had a girl inside. The girl traffic was remarkable. He kept his strength through a careful diet and, unlike me, did some primitive cooking in his room on a gas ring and a frying pan. Thick steaks and liver with ready-boiled beetroot or ready-made potato salads he bought at the neighboring supermarket. He had a small refrigerator and a blender where we blended bananas and milk with sugar, for a thick delicious, nutritious energizer. And he did not neglect his vitamins.
One evening, having nothing better to do Omar and I went to a neighborhood cinema, the ABC Fulham. Cinema going was one of my interests and I kept track of the new wave of artistic films that were coming out from France, Italy and Sweden in the early sixties. Omar, on the other hand was as uninterested in the cinema as he was in reading books. Sometimes he came along to keep me company if he had nothing better to do. That day, in the intermission I saw Diana sitting a few rows in front of us with a young man. I prayed she would not turn around to see me but she did. At once she got up and came round to us. She ignored Omar, looked at me in anger and said, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, You should be ashamed of yourself, George. A gentleman would not act as you did. If you did not like me or did not wish to see me any more you should have had the guts to say so and not change rooms so I would be unable to contact you. Did you think I would beg to see you or spend my days sitting at your doorstep? You’re even worse than Reginald. She left and went to her young man. I did not utter a word. I just looked at her. I did not say I was sorry. With everyone looking at me I put on a defiant look to preserve my self-respect. Thankfully the lights dimmed and the main feature began soon after. The film was ruined for me. Omar did not comment on the incident but he must have come close to guessing the truth.
Omar was neither secretive nor particularly talkative about his affairs. Sometimes if the affair dragged I would get to meet the girl but sometimes even if it lasted longer than usual I might be deliberately kept in the dark. This was an indication that the affair was more serious than the one-night stands, one-week stands or even one-month stands. He needed to keep the girl, without publicity, all to himself. That was not the case with Carol. The affair dragged because Carol worked in one of the offices nearby and got into the habit of dropping in on us at all times of the day. She was a peculiar mix, a beautiful face on a plump, lumpy body. And a peculiar character, sociable and pleasant and sexually totally uninhibited. She made love with Omar as a matter of course on their first encounter and thereafter stuck to him and for a while at least, until he tired of her, she fulfilled his sexual needs as undoubtedly he fulfilled hers. I often wondered about this, it seems to be a fact that a man tires of the same woman after a time but does the woman also get tired of the man if he satisfies her completely? Perhaps the uninhibited, insatiable Carol was the ideal person to answer this question and we were familiar enough for me to ask but I never did. I met her because she used to come to our rooms and when Omar was not there used to knock at my door where a chat and a Nescafé or a cup of Darjeeling tea were always available. Omar, after a while complained that as far as he was concerned, she had become too much of a good thing. She was unquenchable and exhausting. He wanted to pass her on to me but true to form I was reluctant to get involved from day one with an expert. And it came to pass that one day, or rather one middle of the night I got a knock on my door. It was Omar in his pajamas and an annoyed expression on his face. She will finish me off, he said. I can’t take it anymore. What are you talking about? I asked. It’s Carol, I already banged her twice and she woke me up just now with kisses and caresses. She wants it again. I told her, I’m drained, love. Shall I wake up and send you George? Is it all right? She said, Okay. So here’s your golden chance. Get going. The condoms are on the bedside table. You’re crazy, I protested. He pushed me aside and jumped into my bed. I shut the door and stood for a while outside his. My heart was thumping. It’s true, it was my golden chance.
His door was ajar. I entered the room and shut it. The bedside lamp was on and the condoms next to it. Carol was under the sheets. She smiled and said, hi. I said, hi, and started removing my pajamas. When I was as bare as Adam in paradise with the apple in his hands but not yet in his mouth, I went to the bed, lifted the sheets and saw her plump naked body, chubby legs, pubic hair and droopy breasts. I eased myself beside her. Nice and warm, I said and embraced her. By now I was calm but unaroused. We were in each other’s arms. The bedside lamp gave enough light for me to see her face. It was the best part of her, absolutely beautiful. She was smiling, looking at me warily. I told her, you are beautiful, and gave a peck to her mouth. So are you, she said. I began moving my hands on her body. It was warm, soft and flaccid. Her breasts soft and unexciting. I kissed her again epidermically and she helped me by elaborating that unknown, wonderful game, her tongue teasing my lips, entering my mouth. It was not unpleasant but it was not arousing. We kissed for a while and I moved my hands between her legs. She opened them slightly but not completely and I touched moist genitals of whose configuration I was uncertain. She said, thank you darling, but it was for encouragement not from pleasure. I got the impression she did not like hands down there, only penises would do and mine was totally limp. She did not attempt to touch it. I kissed struggled and caressed but the bloody thing would not harden. Finally I gave up. I told her, sorry to disappoint you Carol. I don’t know what’s wrong. Probably the hour. She caressed and messed my hair and smiled. Think nothing of it, she said. Is it your first time? Yes, I answered. Not to worry. We have all the time in the world. I’ll give you plenty of practice. We relaxed after that and did not talk much. Slumber eventually sealed our eyes and we slept fitfully in Omar’s narrow bed like brother and sister until seven thirty when Carol got up and started dressing to get ready for work. I put on my pajamas and brewed a cup of tea for her from Omar’s stock of provisions and she left telling me, I’ll come to your room directly after work. An hour later I woke up Omar and reclaimed my room. How did it go? he asked with a smile. Disastrously, I answered. It will come, he said cheerfully. Stick with Carol. I wondered if he was happy for me or happy to be rid of her.
True to her word and maybe her needs Carol knocked at my door at a little after five. I was keyed up waiting for her. A little worried but also eager for another try. What put me at ease was that we both knew the score. She entered with a smile and we kissed on the cheeks. Sit down, I said. Tea or coffee? Some of that lovely Darjeeling would be super, she answered. I fussed about preparing the tea and we sat down to enjoy it with the usual small talk we were used to. Because I am not a talker I have become a systematic questioner. She came to London from a village in Wales and I asked her about her family and circumstances. It was the usual story of escape from a traditional and oppressive family environment to the liberating freedom of London. What about the future, marriage, a family? I asked. I don’t think about it, she answered. I live for the present. I work and earn my living, I have fun and I have sex. A lot of sex because I enjoy it. Tell me, Carol, they say women who have a lot of sex do not achieve orgasms or much pleasure from it and for them it is a never-ending quest for gratification. She laughed. Not for me, she said. I get my kicks all right. I am not very attractive. Oh yes you are, I cut in. No, my body is not sexy and a relationship does not last long with a man and I have learnt to make do with a rapid turnover of sex partners. I try not to get too involved in an affair so as not to get hurt. One has to adapt. Perhaps one day I might get lucky and find a man to love and marry. She smiled. Shall we get on with it, then?
We got up and started undressing. Shall I close the curtains? I asked. As you wish. I don’t mind either way, she said. I left them as they were. I needed to see her naked, standing, and close to me. She was not the pinup of my dreams but she was beautiful just then. Especially that face, a delicate contrast to her body. I embraced her and we began kissing with tongues slithering from one mouth to the other, with hands caressing and furtively, uncertainly, searching protuberances and clefts. And almost lost in the novelty of the tactile and transcendent enchantment of that human invention, the kiss, I felt a deliverance from anxiety and a rising presence between my legs. She felt it too, my dear Carol with her snug, hospitable body and pulled me to my bed. I put on a condom I borrowed earlier from Omar and we continued our love exertions until I was welcomed to a warm moist haven where after intense agony of bliss and movement I reached a groaning orgasm. Thus I lost my virginity at nineteen. I also lost my fear of sex but not my shyness and unsociability. That was to stay with me for a good part of my adult life. But I do remember dear Carol with gratitude and wonder how life has treated her. If I were to guess I would not say in the best possible way. She was good for easy sex but not gorgeous enough, nor educated enough, nor intelligent enough for sustained interest. I affirm this from my own experience. After that first time, for a while our sexual sessions were frequent and passionate but time and repetition frayed my passion and also, perhaps, hers, despite my improved technique and assurance in sex. Our meetings, which were solely carnal, diminished and finally expired without quarrels or recriminations. She had predicted as much.