by Kiki Archer
“I know, but it’s true! Lynda’s left Eddie.” She took a bite of her warm sandwich.
“Lynda Farrington?”
Andi chewed carefully and swallowed, delicately wiping a smudge of ketchup from her bottom lip. “Yes. She found out about his affair.”
“They got married after us, didn’t they?”
“Exactly. We’re proving those critics wrong. We’re the ones strengthening society.”
“Oh, no, not another speech, please.” Zara covered her ears. “How was it anyway?”
“What?”
“Your precious Twitter feed. The one that prevented our night of passion.”
“You prevented our night of passion by sleeping in the spare room.”
Zara flicked away the comment. “Come on, sweetie. I’m not going to give you another chance to tell me.”
Andi laughed. “If people didn’t know you, they’d think you were awfully mean.”
“I am. It’s one of my best points.”
Andi lifted her steaming mug. “What would you call your humour style? Deadpan?”
Zara actually laughed. “I’ll give you that one, sweetie. That was funny. Come on. Tell me. How was it?”
Andi took a long sip of the rich hot chocolate, savouring the sweetness as it trickled down her throat, wondering whether to start with the positive or the negative. “The majority were great. One in particular from John Elton.”
“THE, John Elton?” Zara was trying to furrow her brow, but nothing really moved.
Andi smiled and nodded. “It was indeed!”
“Oh wow! You should have told me!”
“It didn’t feel right, you were in the spare-”
“Okay, sweetie. Line drawn.” Zara fanned her face. “But seriously, wow! You should invite him to the next charity do. Could you imagine the pictures?”
Andi lifted the white napkin from her lap, patted her mouth, and placed it on her empty plate, which she slid into the centre of the table. “Yes, maybe. Anyway, he tweeted, as did a few high profile MPs.”
“Ooo, look at you.”
“You asked, Zara.”
“I know. I’m teasing. Come on, who else?”
“Annie.”
Zara’s dark eyes widened and her lips started to crease at the corners. “The bi-sexual singer?”
“Yup.”
“Oh wow, sweetie. It really was a big deal then?”
“You know it was,” smiled Andi, teasingly rolling her eyes.
Zara drained the last of her black coffee. “Did you get the usual crap from the bigots?”
“Well actually, there was one particular tweet that got me a bit worr-”
“Zara! Hi!” Melody Fickler strode, tits first, up to their table. “I thought I saw you!” She looked down at Andi. “Oh my goodness, I’m so excited! Please tell me you remember me?”
Andi smiled at the heavily made up woman. “It’s Melody, isn’t it?” They’d met a couple of times at Zara’s black tie events and Andi recalled her being slightly sycophantic on those occasions too.
“Yes, yes, it is!” Melody nodded eagerly. “I’m thrilled to see you guys. I’ve heard Zara mention this place a billion times, so I thought I’d check it out. But I never dreamed I’d have the pleasure of bumping into you here!” She looked around at the beamed ceilings and open fire. “It’s rather cute, isn’t it?”
Andi smiled, warmed at the thought of Zara sharing personal tit-bits with her work colleagues. “Would you like to join us?” she asked politely.
“Really? Wow, I’d love to!” Melody grabbed a spare wicker chair and scraped it next to Andi’s. “I’m sure I said it last time, but I really am a huge fan!”
“I paid her to say that,” said Zara, keeping her face straight.
“You didn’t,” giggled Melody, playfully bashing Zara on the shoulder. “You need to pay me extra, or start to give me a few more perks.” She widened her eyes at her boss.
Andi tilted the handle of her empty mug. “Drinks anyone?”
“Black coffee,” came the joint response.
****
Melody waited for Andi to disappear around the corner of the counter, before turning to Zara and slowly shaking her head. “You’re worse than I imagined.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, sweetie.”
“Come on then. What’s so important that forced me north on the Northern line, west on the Central line and then north again on the Bakerloo?”
Zara lifted her nose. “I detest the tube. Please get a cab next time.”
Melody frowned. “From Clapham? Now I know you’re taking the piss.”
“Far from it, sweetie. I need you available.”
“For what?”
Zara reached under the table and grabbed Melody’s thigh, riding her hand higher until it reached the warm spot between her legs. She squeezed. “For this.”
****
Andi let out a small gasp, quickly watching with apprehension as the drinks on her tray sloshed dangerously close to the rims of their oversized mugs. She tightened her grip, nodded politely at the fellow apologising customer, and completed the short walk back around the corner of the counter to the table by the fire. “Sorry, I just got nudged,” she said as she arrived. “There might be a couple of drips.”
“Who cares!” giggled Melody, patting the seat next to her own. “Sit yourself down and tell me what it was like going up against that monster in the debate!”
Andi frowned. “You watched it?”
Melody plumped up her breasts as she spoke. “Of course I did!” She nestled in closer. “I’m not a lesbian, you know me, as straight as they come, tie your husbands and sons up, and all that!” She paused, lowering her voice. “But you’re the closest thing I’m going to get to a celebrity friend.”
Andi shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Well, I mean acquaintance, obviously.” Melody maintained her eager look, wiggling her defined eyebrows for Andi to begin.
Andi gently blew some steam from her mug of hot chocolate, glancing over the rim at Melody, whom she assessed as naturally pretty, and certainly not in need of the shovel-load of makeup currently heaped onto her face. She wondered if Melody presented herself this way at work too. “I think it went quite well,” she said.
“You think?” Melody looked shocked. “Didn’t you see the Twitter feed? You got rave reviews!”
Andi took a tentative sip of her drink, thrown by the level of familiarity. “I didn’t realise you followed me on Twitter?”
Melody plumped up her breasts once more, as if trying to move them into Andi’s eye-line. “Are you kidding? Everyone at work follows the boss’s wife.”
“They don’t bloody follow me though, do they?” said Zara, twisting her body to the side and crossing her legs.
Andi leaned out and rubbed her wife’s thigh. “I like your twice monthly tweets. They’re ... oh, wait a minute.” She stopped at the sound of her chirping phone and reached under the table for her bag, quickly locating the noise and silencing it with gusto. “Andi Armstrong is on a day off!” It rang again. This time she caught sight of the caller name. “Oh, hang on, it’s Stella. I better answer it. She might be giving birth.”
“Why would she be calling then?” mouthed Zara, as Andi answered the phone.
“So, am I an auntie yet?” she grinned into the receiver.
“Auntie?” mouthed Zara. “Are you two related?”
Andi turned her back on Zara’s distraction and listened carefully. “Oh sorry ... Oh right, okay I’m listening ... He called you? I’m so sorry about that ... Right ... Well thank you ... Okay ... No, it’s fine ... No, thanks, Stella ... Yes I will ... It’s fine ... It’s fine ... You did the right thing ... I’ll make sure they remove your number as my contact point. Now get some rest! ... Yes, yes ... Don’t worry ... I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“And there we have it,” smiled Zara as she watched Andi hang up. “Life with the wonderful Andi Armstrong who said sh
e was on a day off.”
“Are you okay?” Melody asked. “You look flustered.”
Andi dropped her phone into her bag and pulled her coat from the back of her chair. “She’s not in labour, but there has been a delivery at work. Our police liaison officer’s been called.” She frowned, perplexed. “I didn’t quite catch it all, but it seems Jerry, from the front desk, signed for some post and packages this morning, but when he went to move them upstairs, he noticed a foul smell.”
“What sort of smell?” Melody was wide eyed.
“I’m not quite sure of the details, but due to the nature of our work we have to alert the police about any unusual deliveries.”
“And what’s this got to do with you?” asked Zara with her arms crossed and her face straight.
Andi stood up. “The package was addressed to me.”
Chapter Four
Andi pushed open the door to exit the Honest Sausage Café and was engulfed by a blanket of cold air, which didn’t help the shiver of regret and annoyance that was rushing through her body. The timing couldn’t be worse but her duty couldn’t be helped. Yes it was Saturday, yes it was a day off, but things like this had to be dealt with. She pulled her coat collar up around her neck and headed south towards Regent’s Park tube station, certain it wouldn’t take long.
Zara drained her hot coffee, adding to the heated thrill that was already searing through her stomach. The timing couldn’t be better and her urges couldn’t be helped. Andi’s early exit had made her own plan of escape completely superfluous. She pulled on her shearling coat and told Melody to do the same, guiding them quickly out of the café and hurrying them west through Regent’s Park, aware they didn’t have long.
Andi raced down the steps of the tube, towards the crowd of people who were filtering through the turnstiles, swiping and cursing, and swiping again. She reached for her oyster card and chose the smallest queue, checking her watch and thinking of Zara. Five stops to Waterloo, ten minutes tops. Half an hour with the police liaison officer, and back home for one o’clock. She pressed her card against the large yellow circle, dismayed by the pitiful balance displayed on the screen, annoyed at the further delay this would cause. She pushed through the metal barrier and headed left, reaching into her bag for her purse and joining the oyster card top up queue. She sighed with frustration, mentally adding an extra fifteen minutes to her journey time. Poor Zara, she thought, shaking her head with dismay.
Zara walked Melody briskly around the outer circle of the park, past the boating lake, and out towards St John’s Wood. Ten minutes to get home, half an hour of games, and the obligatory ten minutes of down time before she could politely ask her to leave. She looked at her watch. She could be done by one o’clock. Poor Andi, she thought, desperately trying to disguise her delight.
Andi boarded the escalator that was heading down to the underground station. She stood to the right and was brushed and nudged by the faster travellers who were whizzing past on the left. She needed a moment to plan. She remembered the wonderful delicatessens next to work. Some nice wine and a beautiful meal, heaped with apology and calls for forgiveness. It would be fine, she reasoned, moving left into the fast lane, hopping down the final few stairs and racing quickly to the platform on the right. She squeezed onto the heaving train.
Zara turned into Wellington Place and picked up the pace, tasting the thrill of seduction. She needed a plan. She’d keep it contained, confined to the front of the house and the informal reception rooms. That would be fine, she reasoned. Not betrayal; just compensation. Compensation for Andi’s desertion. She squeezed her fingers inside her black leather gloves, excited by the illicit deception.
Andi bent under an outstretched arm and shuffled to a pull-down seat next to the door, glad of the stable position before the surge of people at Oxford Circus. The train raced to a jerky stop and the doors sprung open again. People stepped out and bodies rushed in; pushing and shoving and squeezing too close.
Zara clicked the key in the lock and pushed open the door, pulling Melody inside and kicking it shut. She lifted Melody’s arms to the wall and kissed her hard, moaning as she pressed their bodies together, feeling the heat spread between their legs.
Andi fanned her face. The air was clammy and the smell was nauseous. A mixture of that distinctly metallic, tarmac-like, tube smell, combined with the overpowering stench of perfumes and stale body odour. It was difficult to swallow. She turned to the scratched plastic window and watched as the darkness of the tunnel rattled by.
Zara observed the aroused glow in Melody’s eyes as she kissed her deeper and caressed her harder, unbuttoning her shirt and sucking her neck, consumed by her rich perfume and soft skin, enjoying the rush of air as she pulled the shirt free; throwing it carelessly to the floor.
Andi braced herself as the door sprung open and another gust of stale air raced in. She held her breath. One final stop and she’d be there.
Zara moaned in arousal as the roles were reversed. Her turn to be pinned and caressed, squeezed into submission. She held her breath. Not long now and she’d be there.
Andi squeezed off the train and worked her way through the strange lull of the white bricked tunnels, up towards the surface and the clean, fresh air. She emerged from the ground and breathed deeply, pulling her coat in tight and staring anxiously at her tall work building and the daunting task ahead.
Zara loosened their remaining items of clothing, freeing herself from all other distractions. Manoeuvring their passion towards the black velvet chaise longue and staring greedily at Melody’s naked body and the appetising task ahead.
Andi pushed open the door of the glass fronted building and headed down the steps, towards the usually welcoming front desk, this time tainted by the sight of a uniformed officer and his serious stare.
Zara pushed Melody onto her back and straddled her stomach, staring once more into her fervent eyes, before twisting herself around and seeing her moistness. She bent her head and lifted her bottom, feeling kissed while kissing, and licked while licking. Both taking the other and moving in time.
Andi offered the pleasantries and listened with care, quickly guided to the package and its offensive contents.
Zara followed the rhythm and moved with intent, sucking and grinding, and bringing them close.
Andi walked to the package and bent her head forwards, gasping in horror and recoiling in shock.
Zara pressed herself forwards and arched her back up, gasping in pleasure and shaking in shock.
“Fuck.” groaned Andi.
“Fuck.” moaned Zara.
Neither fully aware of the enormity of the moment.
Chapter Five
Andi walked through the two white pillars and up the short path to their home. She reached into her bag for her keys and fumbled with the lock, finally twisting the correct key and pushing their glossy front door ajar. The two bulging bags from the wonderful delicatessens were weighing her down and making it difficult to fully open the door. What made it even more difficult was the sudden twang of the thick metal door chain as it pulled taut. It jolted her and her shopping backwards, causing the heavy black door to bang shut again. Andi sighed, completely at wits end. She had been as fast as she could, but it had literally been one thing after another. She placed the bags on the front step, adjusting them slightly so they wouldn’t fall and spill their contents. She looked at her watch. Zara must be fuming. She put her key back in the lock, twisted, and pushed open, more carefully this time. She pressed her mouth into the gap. “Zara, I’m back. The chain’s on.” She listened carefully.
Nothing.
She pressed her face between the door and its frame and raised her voice. “Zara, the chain’s on. Could you let me in, please?” She heard a definite scampering of feet. “Zara?” She used her toe to keep the door ajar and squeezed her arm into the space, looping it up and feeling for the catch. She’d tried this before, never to any success and she wondered, once again, why she thought she’d be a
ble to override a security system specifically aimed at stopping people doing just this. She tried all the same, patting her hand on the opposite side of the door and stretching in vain for the catch. Andi screamed out in shock as something grabbed her wrist. The grasp was firm but her initial alarm quickly subsided as she paused in recognition, slowly aware of what was happening. Someone was pushing something into the palm of her hand. She smiled and pulled her newly released arm back out into the cold. She opened her palm and looked at the scrunched up note. She flattened it out and started to read, hearing the thump of the chain banging free against the inside of the door. Andi studied the note.
To my wonderful wife,
I love you, no matter what. (Even when you leave me stranded alone on a Saturday)
Now follow your cute little nose. xxx
Andi lifted her bags of shopping back up off the step and pushed open the door, pleased to be out of the cold and inside their wonderfully aromatic home. The smell was rich and warming; a hearty greeting of bay leaves and thyme, simmering gently with winter vegetables in a beef and red wine bourguignon stew. Andi knew the smell. It was one of Zara’s specialities. She smiled with relief, dropping down onto the black velvet chaise longue and releasing the bags. She unzipped her boots and wiggled her toes, finding it hard to resist the temptation to lean back on the long chair and close her eyes. She rubbed her thumbs into the smooth velvet in an attempt to push herself back up and continue her task of undress, but paused as her left thumb hit a rough area. She looked down at her treasured chaise longue and spotted a small glistening smear. It reminded her of a snail’s trail. She licked her thumb and rubbed the offending mark, repeating the action a couple of times in an attempt to revitalise the smooth fabric. It didn’t really work, so she made a mental note to add it to her ‘jobs to do around the house’ list; the one that was already impossible to remember and long overdue.
Andi gave herself that final push up and took off her coat, hanging it on the old fashioned coat stand and reaching back down for the bags. She shuffled across the warm parquet flooring, down the wide hallway, praising once again their decision to add under-floor heating to all of their downstairs rooms. She used her left shoulder to push open the kitchen door and smiled widely at the image in front of her. Zara was standing at the white Aga oven, lightly stirring the simmering pot of stew. Her apron was tied tightly around her middle and her long black hair was pulled into a loose pony. She was wearing her cosy joggers, hooded top and bootie slippers. It was exactly how Andi loved to see her. Comfy, relaxed and seemingly stress free.
