THE ASTROMATES... Chapter 9...Part 2

A continuation of my book.

I stopped, then slowly turned to face Alex, who was now looking at me with that crafty smile. The way he spoke, the intonation, the intention of letting me know he had some secret information, drew me back to my seat. Alex nodded, knowing that curiosity had got the better of me. I trembled for his knowledge, in dire need to understand the meaning of a ‘Double Scorpio’ and the ‘Conjunct Thingymajig’! I sat down.
"What’s a ‘Double Scorpio’ Alex? And that thing about Sun and Venus Rising?”
Alex had won our little power struggle. He clasped hands behind his neck, leaned back in his chair and started his lecture.
"A ‘Double Scorpio’," he began, "Is when someone, who is born with a Scorpio Sun-Sign is also born when the Zodiac sign of Scorpio is Rising in the East at the time of birth."
"God knows what you’re on about, Alex. I have no idea unless you lighten the load."
"I’ll only tell you this, old bean. A ‘Double Scorpio means this lady has no pretensions. She is what she is. What you see is what you get. That, old boy, in a nutshell is all I can say about the subject, unless, of course, you’re prepared to take a years’ training. That is even before your tiny brain can begin to grasp the rudiments of Rising-Signs."
What a load of crap! Me, needing a year’s hard study! If it had not been for the lack of intellect, I would have gone to college! I secretly smile at my own joke, not intending to share it with the smug git who sat facing me. I still didn’t have a clue what he was on about, even though I wore my Worzel Gummidge ‘Thinking Head’!
"What about the Sun-con-something to Venus?" I asked, hoping for something more enlightening.
"Sun conjunct Venus, you mean?"
He knew what I meant, smarmy git!
"When the Sun is next to Venus in the First House, it suggests a warm and loving personality, someone with a real need to share in a harmonious relationship."
"Oh, goody, goody. At last we’re getting somewhere!" I exclaimed.
"Hold your horses, not so fast, old chap. Remember what I said earlier, about the Scorpio nature, the intuitive sense to psyche you out before play begins. Don’t go rushing in or you’ll get stung. The Scorpio female can act in a defensive-aggressive way if you move too fast, she’s quick to feel threatened."
I didn’t need to be reminded of anything. All I needed was to know Mary Whatsername had a warm, loving and responsive nature. I was into openness, especially when it came to Mary’s legs!
"Just give me the information, where to meet her and when and I’ll be on my merry way." I said, rising from the chair.
Alex shook his head sadly and sighed. He was a fine actor when he wanted to be.
"Her name is Mary Watkins. She’s thirty-nine years old and a widow."
"A widow, Alex? What does that mean?"
"What do you think it means? It means the bloody husband is dead, that’s what being a widow means!" stressed Alex.
"She’s not a black widow is she? Has sex with a partner then kills him?" I joked.
"You never learn, do you?" said Alex sadly.
I stopped my banter, seating myself on the corner of the desk, ready to learn.
"From what I gather." began Alex. "It appears the lady’s husband died in a motoring accident a few years ago. She was not too keen to go into any details, so don’t go pushing it, you understand? Be tactful."
Of course I understood! What did Alex think I was? I had no intention of talking about her partner’s demise while I was trying to get into her drawers. I could be very sensitive when I wanted to be. All I hoped was that this Mary was going to be a very merry widow!
"So where do I meet this Mary? The House of Horrors? Madame Tussuads? The Bloody Tower of London? Or shall I simply wrap myself up in a spiders’ web and post myself off to her?"
Now, you know me, I’m a joker, a clown. I can’t resist the ‘Mickey-Take’; it streams out of me like diarrhoea through an incontinent-pad! Alex dismissed my playful patter with a raised eyebrow, handing me the usual information along with the cash.
"Friday night. Eight o’clock." Alex reminded me.
"It’s lucky I like normal, healthy sex." I said as I left the office. "I wouldn’t fancy getting on this ladies’ back!"

Her shoulder-length hair was as black as a crow’s wing, curtaining a round pale face. Her eyes were of the deepest blue, seeming to have some hidden intensity, smouldering depths, reflecting the flames of the log fire.
We had met, as planned, in the snug little bar of the Pig and Whistle, a quaint little country-type pub near her home in Biggin Hill. Taking the seats by the fire, we sat, glass in hand, staring into the flames as the logs crackled. Mary was not as open and warm as Alex had predicted. To me, she seemed sadly preoccupied, lonely. It was hard to make any sense of her at all, as if some invisible barrier was drawn between us, a barrier I could not penetrate. I noticed her eyes had a strange and mysterious way of changing, one minute seeming sharp, riveting blue, the next, a soft deep velvety violet, so full of inviting promise.
"You have lovely eyes." I heard myself say.
Twat! Why did I have to say that!
"Thank you." she answered simply, her eyes deeply sensual.
I had no way of knowing how to break the ice. She did nothing to show either like or dislike, neither warm nor cold. She sat, drink in hand, her mind a million miles away. Perhaps she was psyching me out as Alex had warned me about, the Scorpio trick of reading my intentions. I tried to keep my mind as pure as possible and, not wanting to force any issues, I remained silent; feeling that, by just being there gave her some kind of comfort
"He used to go fishing." she suddenly said, her voice soft and throaty.
"Who?"
"My husband."
She was away, into her memories. The thought occurred to me that death and memories were definitely a Scorpion trait. More silence… Then…
"Sometimes he would take me. We’d sit for hours on the river-bank, just watching the tips of our floats, waiting for them to go under."
I stayed silent, sensing the melancholia, picturing the scene.
"We never caught much; at least, he never caught much when I was with him."
She laughed, a low, hollow, sound in her throat.
"He always seemed to catch a lot when he went on his own. I used to accuse him of cheating."
"He sounds like a good man." I said gently.
"He was." she near-whispered, reminding me he was gone.
I bided my time. It took a few drinks more and some fresh logs crackling on the fire before Mary began to thaw out, every now and again laughing her low pleasurable sound when I said something silly. She enjoyed a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from me, holding her head back so I could see the heart-pulse throb in her neck. Stubbing out the cigarette, she reached over and touched my arm.
"Do you like fishing?" she asked.
I had been staring into the flames. A log fire does that, sucking in the memories about nothing much.
"What was that?" I asked, coming to my senses.
She smiled, a wistful play on her lips, almost seductive, eyes violet and soft.
"I asked if you liked fishing?" she replied.
I turned my eyes away, looking back into the fire. The smouldering intensity of her gaze somehow embarrassed me, as if she could read my mind, knew what I really wanted from her.
"I’ve never been." I said, hesitatingly. "But I wouldn’t mind trying."
I thought it was a clever way of breaking into her defences and waited to see if she would swallow the bait.
"My husband used to say that fishing was the only time you could be with others yet still be alone. I suppose that’s why I enjoyed it. Loneliness gives you a sense of freedom, of being in control."
She again lapsed into silence and I could almost taste her loneliness, a security-fence. Perhaps self-control was the Scorpio’s inner sense of security, being with others meant a fear of losing control… Who knows? I decided to breach her defence and see if I could reel her in.
"Would you like to take me fishing with you? Teach me how to catch them? We could go where you used to go?"
I didn’t beg or plead with her, just simple and direct questions. At first she did not answer; instead, lighting up another cigarette, blowing smoke while she considered the proposal… Finally…
"If you like. But not where I used to go with my husband. (There was a need to keep deaths secret.)… There are other places."
The brandy and the heat from the fire had warmed her up. Mary seemed at ease with me, even to the point where she gave me a playful dig in the ribs when I told a risqué joke. See that, Alex, I thought, now we’re having little digs at each other! She was quite tall, nearly my height when she stood up to let me help put her coat on. I held her arm as we left and walked the short distance to her front door. By the time we had arrived, she was laughing at my silly jokes, digging me with a finger and I learned some swear- words, the like of which I had never heard before.
"Do you want to come in?"
I got the impression everything Mary said to me was some kind of challenge. She held the door open for me then suddenly walked off up the hall as if she didn’t care whether I went in or not.
"Close the door then, Richard." she called over her shoulder, as if knowing I would enter. I wanted to ask her if I could stay the night, wanting to know how long it had been since she’d had a shag and did she fancy me. I wanted to ask…
"You get a goodnight cup of coffee, then its goodnight, okay?"
Bloody hell! Was she a witch? Did she really read my mind? As if to read me even further, she said… "I’m not your bunk-up for the night, Richard."
She was direct, blunt and to the point, I’ll give her that!
"I had no intention… “I began.
Mary laughed outright, eyes sparkling blue.
"Of course not, Richard. You wouldn’t dream of asking for anything, would you?"