Love at First Fight

by Mary Jayne Baker

  God, Ben, snap out of it! He’d fantasised about this since he was a clumsy teenage virgin, and now, finally, he was in bed with Bridie Morgan for real. She was right there under his fingers, his lips; no longer the sarcastic, prickly girl he knew but naked, beautiful and moaning as he caressed parts of her body he’d only ever dreamed about before. And… and he felt like he’d been reset right back to that trembling, inexperienced kid he’d been the last time she’d let him touch her.

  He sucked on a taut nipple, then ran his tongue around it. Bridie let out a little gasp of pleasure.

  Right. He could do this. He’d done it plenty of times, and he’d not had a complaint yet. She was enjoying it, see? Moaning, arching her back. He just needed to make sure this was the best sexual experience of her entire life, that was all. No pressure.

  ‘Hey, can I go down on you?’ he whispered.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ she whispered back.

  ‘OK, great.’ He flexed his knuckles. ‘I’m good at this.’

  ‘That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?’

  ‘Honestly, I’ve had loads of compliments. I’ve got a technique, I don’t just do that alphabet stuff. Grab a pillow and strap yourself in.’

  He was about to dive under the duvet when she put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Ben, wait,’ she said gently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Love, what’s up with you? You’re shaking all over, and I don’t know what that expression is in your eyes but it’s not what I’d call slumberous with desire. You look like you’re about to get stuck into some gardening. Why so determined?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re not though.’ She ran a tender finger over his cheek. ‘You’re actually nervous about this, aren’t you? Ben Kemp, afraid of having sex. That has to be a first.’

  ‘Not quite. It has happened once before.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Bride. It’s just… I cocked this up once for us already, didn’t I? I’ve got a feeling I’m only going to get one shot with you and I want to get it right.’

  ‘Why do you think you’ll only get one shot with me?’

  ‘I don’t know. Because I blew the last one, maybe.’

  ‘Come here.’ She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly. ‘I love you, OK? I want to be with you. You’ve got absolutely nothing to prove to me and we can take a million attempts to get this right if we have to. I’m not going anywhere.’

  He stroked her hair. ‘Yeah, I guess so. I’m being daft, aren’t I? Thanks, Bridie.’

  ‘I, on the other hand, have got a hell of a lot to prove to Messington’s most notorious ladies’ man.’ She rolled on top of him and grinned. ‘Brace yourself, Ben. I’m about to be the best you’ve ever had.’

  When Bridie woke up the next morning, she was still in Ben’s embrace. He was fast asleep, both arms wrapped tightly around her and his legs twined with hers.

  She lifted the duvet to peep at him. She’d never seen him fully naked before last night, not even back when they were teens. Bridie felt a zing of excitement and arousal when she remembered sitting astride those thick thighs, gripping his hair, calling out his name as orgasm took hold of her. Once she’d taken charge and helped him overcome his initial nerves, it had been just… wow. Ten years’ worth of suppressed lust crammed into one evening’s energetic lovemaking. She ached all over this morning, but every sore limb and muscle was so worth it.

  ‘Morning, new girlfriend,’ Ben whispered as he woke up, nuzzling her nose with his.

  ‘Morning, new boyfriend.’

  He blinked. ‘Shit, that sounds weird.’

  ‘I know. Still, we’d better get used to it, hadn’t we?’

  ‘Suppose we had.’ He glanced at George Clooney. ‘What do you think, can we take Georgie Boy’s blindfold off now?’

  ‘Not until you’re dressed. He gets very jealous.’ She planted a row of soft kisses along his shoulder. ‘Besides, who says I’m done with you?’

  ‘If I’d known you were this hot in the bedroom, Bride, I’d have snapped you up years ago.’ Ben ran one hand over the curve of her breast. ‘Do you know how much of a turn-on it is to hear you go all bossy in bed?’

  ‘I could sense you were a fan last night.’

  ‘I should’ve known there was a closet nymphomaniac hidden under that sensible, uptight teacher act. It’s always the quiet ones.’

  Bridie rolled on top of him. ‘You’re a bad man, Ben Kemp.’

  ‘Which of course only makes me more irresistible.’

  She shook her head, smiling. ‘And to think I thought the prospect of commitment might make you a bit less cocky.’

  ‘After my athletic feats last night? You must be kidding, love. I’m a god.’

  ‘Oh, you’re a god now, are you?’

  ‘Yeah, one of the minor deities, I reckon,’ Ben said, nodding. ‘Is there a god of multiple orgasms? If there is I’m probably that guy, but if he’s not available then I’ll take the one with the flying shoes.’

  ‘Comparing yourself to a god is definitely far too cocky, even if it is only the flying shoe one. That’s going to require a punishment, I’m afraid.’

  He trailed the back of one finger over her hip. ‘Go on then, make me an offer.’

  ‘How about you ravish me again? I bet you won’t enjoy that at all.’

  He pulled a horrified face. ‘God, no. That sounds like torture.’

  ‘I want to hear your screams though. Just so I know you’re getting a good, solid punishing.’

  ‘Ah, now you’re talking.’ He rolled her over and she giggled as he burrowed into her neck to nibble her ear.

  ‘Ben?’ she whispered.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Are we going to tell people?’

  ‘About our sex life? I’m not sure they’d want to know, Bride.’

  ‘About us. That we’re… you know, us.’

  ‘I don’t know. What do you think? It’s a bit early for those sorts of announcements. Plus, well…’

  ‘…they’d take the piss out of us something chronic after we both swore blind we hated each other and we were never going to settle down? Yeah, I know they would, the bastards.’

  ‘Let’s leave it till after the Sten thing, eh?’ Ben looked up to grin at her. ‘Right now, I’ll just settle for making you scream.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, you’ve got it backwards. You’re supposed to do the screaming. That was the arrangement.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see which one of us caves in first. Now then, where was I? Oh yes. Punishment…’

  Bridie wriggled pleasurably as he found his way back to the sensitive spot just behind her ear and his hand slid down between her thighs.

  Twenty-Three

  Meg shook her head. ‘I can’t believe Cal had Jojo Fitzroy over and he never told you, Hat.’

  ‘I know, serious error of judgement,’ Hattie said, sipping her bellini. ‘Everything’s woop-te-doo in paradise again now we’ve talked it over though.’

  ‘Not that. I mean, there was a celebrity in your house!’

  Meg was wearing the starstruck look Hattie had become used to seeing on the faces of her best friends whenever Joanna was mentioned – or two of her best friends anyway. Bridie, who’d known Joanna before she was famous, was thankfully immune.

  Hattie laughed. ‘Seriously, Meggy, that’s what you’re taking from this?’

  The prospective bride and bridesmaids had gathered at a cocktail bar near to a boutique owned by one of Sandra Leonard’s business contacts, where she’d booked them an appointment to try on some dresses. Hattie was currently filling Bridie, Meg and Ursula in on what she and Cal now fondly referred to as ‘our fight’ – although really, when she thought back on it, Hattie supposed it was more of a disagreement than a full-scale row. Still, she felt it deserved its status as The Fight all the same. It felt like she and Cal were a proper nearly married couple now they’d had one, like it was a rite of passage or something.

  ‘How come he didn
’t tell you?’ Bridie asked, detaching herself from the straw through which she was slurping some pinkish concoction called a Woo Woo.

  ‘Oh, he was just being a typical obtuse bloke, trying to paper over a little problem with a much bigger one,’ Hattie said, flicking a hand. ‘Sounds like he sort of got sucked into it. He thought Joanna was bringing her husband and they were going to catch up at a café or something. Then she turned up at his place, alone and bearing champagne, Cal panicked that I’d think there was something wrong and like an idiot decided not to tell me.’

  ‘Huh. I’ve had stories like that from exes before,’ Ursula muttered. ‘That’s why they’re exes.’

  ‘This is Cal though. Mr Nice,’ Bridie said. ‘I can totally see that happening to him. He’d be mortified at the idea of being rude and doubly mortified about potentially hurting Hattie. I bet he was in purgatory the whole time Joanna was there.’

  Hattie smiled. ‘Yeah, I think you’re right. And I do trust him. Her I’m not so sure about.’

  ‘Naaaah,’ Ursula said tipsily. Hattie suspected her mojito might’ve come with double measures of spirits. ‘She’s married to wossit. Conrad Benson. I mean, no offence to Cal, but that guy’s… well, he’s…’

  Hattie raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, Ursula? Something to say about my future husband?’

  ‘I just mean Conrad’s… well, buff. Has Cal got a six-pack?’

  Hattie considered this. ‘He’s got a two-pack.’

  ‘Plus Conrad’s off telly,’ Ursula went on. ‘And if she’s had enough of him, I bet she can take her pick of rich, famous hotties. Her boyfriend before Conrad was thingy, you know, that premiership footballer who does all the aftershave ads. Why would she be running up from Chester or wherever she lives to have a go at seducing Cal? For his two-pack and lovely personality?’

  ‘All right, maybe you’ve got a tiny smidgeon of a point,’ Hattie conceded. ‘But still, who turns up alone at an ex’s house with a handbag full of Veuve Clicquot?’

  Meg shrugged. ‘Famous people, probably. I bet they drink that stuff like pop. Jojo probably never leaves the house without a couple of bottles on her.’

  ‘You’re all loved up again now though, right, Hat?’ Bridie asked. ‘Enjoying being housemates?’

  Hattie smiled. ‘Yeah. The best part is, Cal feels so guilty about it that I’ve been getting some serious attention. Flowers, chocs, and, um, a few other treats, if you know what I mean, girls.’

  Meg nodded to Bridie. ‘One of us does, I reckon.’

  Bridie frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Ursula laughed. ‘Yeah, come on, Bridie, what’s his name?’

  ‘Eh? Whose name?’

  ‘It’s no good playing innocent. Whoever it is that’s been putting the spring in your step and colour in your cheeks this past fortnight.’

  Bridie flushed. ‘What? No he hasn’t. I mean, no there isn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, bollocks,’ Hattie said, grinning. ‘We’ve all noticed the signs since the new term started. Yawning constantly, swigging coffee by the gallon, humming to yourself, looking all moony over secret text messages we’re not allowed to see. I’d bet some serious money you’ve spent every night of the past two weeks getting laid.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft. Who would I be getting laid with?’

  Hattie shrugged. ‘You tell us. It’s pretty obvious you’ve been taking advantage of your new housemateless state to make a bit of noise with someone.’

  ‘Maybe I treated myself to a new vibrator to cheer myself up.’

  ‘All right, if that’s how you want to describe him. What’s he called then, this “new vibrator”?’

  Bridie stood up. ‘I’ll go get us another round. We’ve got time for one more before the dress shop lady’s expecting us.’

  ‘Not for me,’ Ursula said. ‘I’ll fall down if I have another one of these. I swear it’s ninety per cent rum.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Hattie said, holding up her still half-full bellini. ‘I’ve got plenty left. Besides, I don’t want to bloat up on fizzy stuff before the fitting. You and Meg go ahead though.’

  ‘What’s in a bellini anyway?’ Bridie asked. ‘I’ve never had one.’

  ‘Peach juice and prosecco, I think.’

  ‘Hmm. Sounds a bit sweet for my taste. Think I’ll stick with the Woo Woos.’

  ‘Because your new man’s sweet enough, right?’ Meg said with a grin.

  ‘Ha-terribly-hilarious-ha,’ Bridie said, rolling her eyes. ‘So that’ll be a tap water for you then, Margaret.’

  Hattie smirked as she watched Bridie leave.

  ‘Now there goes a woman who’s quite obviously spent the last fortnight being thoroughly made love to,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We did it, you two.’

  ‘You think it’s Ben?’ Meg murmured back.

  ‘I know it’s Ben. Cal’s been noticing exactly the same symptoms in him. Constantly tired yet grinning like a loon all the time, forever on his phone texting someone. Cal even found a love letter Ben had been trying to write to her.’ She glanced over at Bridie, who was smiling goofily at something that had popped up on her mobile while she waited for the barman to pour their drinks. ‘You see that look on her face? That, girls, is true love: I’d recognise it anywhere. I’m calling this a definite win for Team Cupid.’

  ‘Welcome, ladies,’ the proprietor said when they arrived at the dress shop. She glanced around. ‘Oh. No Sandra? I thought we’d have the mother of the bride as well.’

  ‘My mum booked the appointment, but she wanted to leave us to try the dresses on by ourselves,’ Hattie said. ‘I think she worries she might end up taking over things, with it being her job.’

  ‘Ah, so you’re the bride-to-be.’

  ‘Um, yes,’ Hattie said, flushing slightly. It still felt strange to think of herself as a bride-to-be – a wife-to-be – although she and Cal had been engaged for nearly four months now. It made it feel like it was really going to happen when she heard other people use the word.

  ‘Well, dear, you’ve picked a good day to come for an appointment. We’ve got a new Suzanne Neville range just in that I know you’re going to love.’ The boutique owner turned to the other three. ‘Ladies, feel free to look around and see what takes your fancy. Try a few things on if you like. I’m just going to steal your friend away to see what we can find for her, but I’ll have her back to you in a blink.’

  When Hattie had gone, Ursula fished out the price tag on one of the dresses and whistled.

  ‘These things cost a bomb,’ she said. ‘It was nice of Hattie’s parents to offer to buy them for us, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I wish I had rich parents,’ Meg said. ‘If Adrian ever pops the question, we’ll be funding the whole thing on a couple of teacher salaries. Hope you like the potato sacks you’ll be wearing on my big day, girls.’

  Bridie turned to another rail and started skimming through the dresses in their plastic covers. ‘I feel mega guilty having the Leonards pay silly money for something I know I’m never going to wear again.’

  ‘You might do, you never know,’ Ursula said. ‘Maybe your new man will want you to escort him to an embassy ball or something.’

  Bridie shook her head. ‘How many times? There is no new man except the one you lot have dreamed up for me. The only bloke allowed in my bedroom these days is George Clooney, as you well know.’

  ‘She’s really a terrible liar,’ Meg observed to Ursula.

  Ursula nodded. ‘I wonder why she bothers, don’t you? She knows we’ll find out who he is in the end.’

  ‘Do you two really lead such quiet lives that my non-existent love life is so fascinating to you?’ Bridie demanded.

  Ursula shrugged. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come on, let’s pick out a few of these dresses to try on before Hat comes back.’ She pulled out a silky red dress with a slit down the side and curled her lip. ‘Ugh, I can’t believe I have to wear one of these things. If God had meant us to wear dresses, he’d have invented lad
derless tights.’

  ‘Ooh, I love that!’ Meg dived forward to grab it from her before she put it back on the rail. ‘It’s just like the sexy red dress Jessica Rabbit wears. You should get it, Bride. You’re the only one of us with the tits for it. I bet your new man won’t be able to keep his eyes off you in that.’

  ‘He will because his eyes, like the rest of him, are entirely imaginary.’ Bridie shook her head. ‘No, it’s too loud to wear to a wedding. I think there’s some sort of rule about not being in red, and I’d just look tarty following Hattie up the aisle with a slit right up to my knickers. Anyway, we all have to match, don’t we?’

  Ursula took out a more conservative peach number, full-length and in a Grecian sort of style. ‘This look would be good on all of us, don’t you think?’

  Meg extracted a dusky pink off-the-shoulder gown. ‘I prefer this one. It’s classy but it doesn’t cover everything. Obviously we don’t want to outshine the bride but we still want a bit of sex appeal.’

  ‘Well I couldn’t care less, so I’m happy to go with either,’ Bridie announced. ‘Let’s try them on then.’

  They’d each visited the changing rooms and jointly decided Meg’s choice of dusky pink was their preferred style when Hattie reappeared from the back room, blushing all over her face. She was in a stunning ivory backless gown with a lace bodice and full-length sleeves. The chiffon and satin skirt clung to her curves before dropping to pool elegantly at her feet.

  ‘Well, what do you all think?’ she asked shyly.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Meg whispered. ‘Hat, you’re beautiful.’

  ‘Give over.’

  ‘Honestly. You look like Audrey Hepburn.’ She turned to the other two. ‘Doesn’t she?’