All Passion Spent by Bergotte (read with me .TXT) 📖

Jack was glad he was going out. He hated the trick and treaters calling at his door. And Rita was dressed to party in a black mini skirt and black top. She looked a picture to Jack who was a bit bemused by her antics. They drove in Jack’s car arriving at eight o’clock. The party had been well organised, with pumpkins, witches hats and all the paraphernalia of Halloween decorating the party room. Jack called to mind that the ancient Celts regarded Halloween as the final day of the year.

This was the time when people looked for signs of what the future would bring. He wondered what the future would bring to him and the woman with him. She had now developed a thirst for whiskey and insisted on drinking a glass as soon as they arrived. Jack took this in good spirit. Rita led him out of the room and into another building. She went downstairs to the basement and stood at a row of lockers. She produced a key, which hung on a chain inside her top and unlocked the door to one of the lockers. She opened it wide to reveal an assortment of clothes and odds and ends. She removed her top and her bra, thrusting them on to the top shelf. She took some strange kind of dark makeup from the shelf and applied it not only to her face but to her body also, in an attempt to look witch-like and menacing.
Jack looked a little embarrassed as he stood there next to this half-naked witch like creature. He wondered whether someone might come along and demand to know what the two of them were doing there. Suddenly, Rita hissed at him, “Suck my breasts!” Jack stood there motionless, unable to comprehend what she was demanding of him. She obviously expected him to obey whatever she commanded. He wanted to say something to her to ask her why she was in such a strange mood, but he was completely tongue-tied. She grew intolerant of his hesitation and pulled him towards her. She leant back against the door with her hands behind her head, her breasts jutting out tantalisingly towards the man standing in front of her. She raised her right knee and put the sole of her foot against the door so that Jack was in a semi-sitting position on her right leg.

She took hold of his hair with both hands and manoeuvred his head until his mouth was in contact with her heavy, swelling nipple. “Suck hard!” she commanded again, in an imperious tone of voice. He did as he was told and the couple swayed slightly for several moments. When he drew away from her he seemed to lose his balance and stumbled. He fell in front of the locker. Jack got up quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said as she began dressing again. She stopped and repeated the performance, demanding that he suck her other breast. He kept his balance this time. Jack and Rita said nothing to each other as they made their way back to the party. He was transfixed by what he had seen. He was lost for words. Yet he wanted to be with this strange young woman. When they reached the room the Halloween party was in full swing.

Jack could see a spinning ball suspended from the ceiling and a sophisticated disco outfit set up along one wall with an energetic DJ encouraging those present to dance. There were a few chairs round the sides of the room but mostly people were on their feet moving in time to the music, packed tightly together, like commuters on a crowded tube train, cheek by jowl. “Are you ready to party?” Rita asked him. “I don’t quite know what you mean,” said Jack, honestly. “We can dance,” she replied and started to gyrate in front of him. He made an attempt to copy Rita’s movements and join in with her. He felt foolish and self-conscious. But he was determined to make a go of it. For Rita it was soon time for another drink. Jack was driving, so he was restricted to mineral water and orange juice.

Rita, on the other hand, wanted to experiment with all the different kinds of spirits she could. The bar had no licence to sell drinks. The organisers had bought in a considerable amount of alcohol funded by the ticket sales. There were also a number of prize draws to boost the revenue. Consequently, it was easy for anyone like Rita, seriously intent on consuming a large amount of alcohol, to do so. Jack advised her on what she could have. He suggested rum and orange. Later he suggested rum and black. Rita decided to try some alcopops. Unused to any quantity of alcohol, the drink quickly went to her head. Rita thought she was ready for anything. She was keen for Jack to meet some of the other nurses that she knew quite well. She wanted to show him off to them, to convince them that her marriage may be over but she was going to win out.

Jack said his hellos to a group of four, huddled together in a corner, whilst Rita was invited to dance by one of the few male doctors present. Jack watched them as they moved on the improvised dance floor. The lights were low and the music deafening. He realised that unwittingly he had become involved in a sub-culture that was totally alien to him. His presence was a sort of incursion into a club culture of binge drinking and excess. He was fascinated by it. He liked to stand and watch Rita dance. It did not matter to him with whom she danced. He admired her beauty, her fizzing energy and bright smile. How it contrasted with the hollowed-out pumpkins which the party organisers had carved out. They now resembled grotesque faces, which were lit up by the candles placed inside.

At the end of the evening Jack was very tired but Rita said she could stay all night, but she wanted to be taken home. “When we get home I want to go to bed with you,” she told him. He agreed. He put his arm round her waist and practically carried the young woman across the car park. He opened the front passenger door and eased her into the seat. She managed to fasten her seat belt and sat waiting for Jack to join her. She put her head back and closed her eyes. After a few moments she fell asleep. Meanwhile Jack had retraced his steps. He had kept his wits about him all evening and tried to remember the names of the different hospital buildings and the general layout of the site. He found his way into the main building and found a security officer.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Yes sir,” replied the officer, “how can I help?” “A piece of paper and a pencil if you have one. I have an important message.” The security officer found a writing pad and worn down pencil and handed them to Jack without a word. He watched while Jack scribbled a brief message. “Could you please contact this man. It’s very, very important.” The security officer nodded his consent. Jack turned on his heel and walked quickly back to the car. The security officer looked a bit puzzled but when he looked at the message on the scruffy piece of paper he decided to act.

Rita scarcely noticed that he had been absent for ten minutes. She sat in the car in a drunken haze, eyes shut, dreaming of being with him in bed. When he finally sat in the driving seat beside her she mumbled some incoherent words to him and they set off. They had not gone very far when it was clear to Jack that Rita was going to be violently sick. His quick thinking saved them both a lot of trouble. He turned off the main road into Victoria Park, stopped the car and went round to the passenger door which he pulled open. Rita was sick on the grass. He put his hand on her shoulder as she retched violently for several minutes. When she was able to speak she said she was sorry. She told him she was not used to drink and tried to stand upright. She swayed in the night.

Jack caught her by the waist and led her back to the car. “Are you okay to go home now?” he asked. “Yes, I think so. I’ve got a horrible taste in my mouth. I need some water.” “We’ll get some at home and a strong cup of black coffee.” The car drew up outside Jack’s house. Rita wondered about Sally, whether she should tell her she had come back but it was far too late for that. No, she would stay with the long-suffering next door neighbour. When they got in the house Rita made herself comfortable in the living room, sipping at a glass of water, whilst Jack made coffee. “I think I’ll get a wash and get ready for bed,” she called to him, mounting the stairs. “Is it okay if I use your dressing gown?” “Yes,” replied Jack, trying to keep his nerve.

He heard the shower running and lit a gas fire downstairs. I’ve got to keep her warm, he thought. He sat watching the firelight and waited for her to come downstairs, though by now he was not at all sure what she would do. He became more and more despondent as he waited. The evening had not gone at all as he expected. He smiled grimly to himself as he thought of what he had been through, that somehow pleasure could be attained through suffering. He tried to remember what Shakespeare said, but could not. He went to his bookshelves and found the reference in Romeo and Juliet. He repeated the lines to himself.

Rita came down in his dressing gown and saw him mouthing the words. “What’s that you’ve got there?” “Romeo and Juliet,” said Jack, “I was just looking up something,” he said. “They both died didn’t they?” she asked rhetorically. His eyes moved from the page to look up at her. He replaced the volume on the shelf. He saw that she was clean with all the traces of a Halloween witch removed. She took the towel from her head and dried her hair with it. “Put me over your shoulder and carry me up to bed,” she suggested. Her voice was soft and tender. She had lost the hard, steely mien of a witch. Her black, brooding presence had been transformed into a vision of pale loveliness. Perhaps he had been wrong to judge her so harshly. Perhaps it was just play-acting.

She started to brush her long blonde hair, tilting her head on one side, so that it fell straight down in front of her. Jack found the motion of the brush hypnotic as he watched. “Don’t you like Halloween, Jack?” “Not much,” he confessed. “It’s only a bit of harmless fun. Nobody takes it seriously.” “Don’t they?” “Why don’t you like it?” “Tonight, you took on a different personality. You may have been having harmless fun,” he explained, “but I was frightened by what you became. I want to know which is the real you.” “We don’t know each other at all,” she said, dreamily. “You saw me tonight wearing a different mask, that’s all. There’s no real me. A person is like the layers of an onion. You strip away each layer. What is left?” “Nothing,” said Jack.

“Are we going upstairs now?” “Is your hair dry?” “Yes, fairly. Have you got a hairdryer?” “Yes.” Jack went to