by L.H. Cosway
He watches me as I writhe against him. “What will it take for you to scream my name? Do you need my cock inside you for that?”
“Oh God, shut up!” I gasp.
He pushes my dress up higher, revealing my black lacy knickers. Then he goes down on one knee and presses his face to my mound. He runs his nose up and down, and I swear I could come just from that movement alone. Somebody knocks on the bathroom door and tries the handle a few times. Nicholas swears and removes his fingers from me, before standing up.
He runs the thumb of his other hand over my lower lip, and nips at the side of my mouth with his teeth. “If we weren't in the middle of my house warming party Freda I would so spread your legs and eat you out right now.”
I swallow a hard lump of saliva and breathe heavily. I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm full to the brim with need and emotion. God, what's the point of trying to resist him when I'm already half in love with him? Spending the best part of the last fortnight with this man, laughing and joking and getting to know one another has really done a number on me. I want him so badly it hurts. But I want all of him. Not just the sex. I want his smiles and his teasing, his smouldering looks. His sad eyes when he thinks nobody's watching. Most of all, I want his heart.
“We better go back out,” I say shakily, fixing my dress down. I take a step toward the door, but he grabs my wrist to stop me. He deftly swings me around to face him before pulling the top part of my dress back up. He has me so frazzled that I'd just been about to walk out into the party with one boob hanging out.
“Great fucking tits, Fred,” he says darkly. “I can't wait to suck on the other one next time.” He kisses me softly on the lips, his tongue snaking out for just a second. Then he goes to unlock the door, revealing Sean waiting on the other side. He eyes us both and laughs.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to take a slash,” he says.
My cheeks flame red as I hurry out, and Nicholas' laughter follows behind me.
Chapter Ten
Karaoke and Seduction
As I'm entering the living area I notice that Dorotea's eyes are on me. Shit! Did she see that I'd been alone in the bathroom with Nicholas? Her gaze is cool and a little hazy, so I can't tell whether she's mad or if she's just one of those stare-y-when-drunk kinds of people. When I first met her I thought she was cool as shit, now she's becoming something of an irritation.
Over the next hour I keep my distance from Nicholas. I actually can't look at him without blushing like a maniac. I sit with Harry and Sean for a while, as I lubricate myself with alcohol in order to numb how my traitorous body won't stop tingling all over. How is it that I manage to maintain my self-consciousness even when I'm half plastered?
Nora's still engrossed in her barman hunk, so I leave her to it. Soon most of the guests begin to leave, probably because a lot of them work at the club and have shifts to get to. Phil seems to have taken the whole night off though. He's currently walking around the apartment with one of Nicholas' platinum blonde wigs on his head, a lacy pink bra over his shirt and a bottle of wine clutched in his hand.
Harry and Colm say their goodbyes because they've got work in the morning. That leaves only me, Nicholas, Phil, Dorotea, Dorotea's friend, Sean, Nora and her barman left in the apartment. Phil hops over to the karaoke machine (which as it turns out belongs to him) and lifts the microphone to his mouth.
“Okay everyone, I know something that will spice up this shindig. How about we play a game of seduction karaoke?”
“What's that when it's at home?” I ask with a giggle, tipsy as you like.
“Somebody volunteers to be the judge and then we all have to sing to them and try to seduce them,” he explains and pauses to burp. “In the end the judge picks out who gave the most seductive performance.”
“Sounds like a ball of cheese,” I mumble.
“Great idea, I will sing to Nicholas,” Dorotea declares with relish, not hearing my comment and clapping her hands in delight.
Phil winks at Nicholas. “Well Miss Blue, do you want to be the judge then?”
“I'd love to Philip,” he replies smoothly, before taking a sip from his glass. I'm convinced he's looking at me every chance he gets, but I refuse to acknowledge him for whatever irrational reason. The wine voice in my head is urging me to go over and lick his face, but that would be surreal and I have just enough willpower to hold myself back.
Dorotea stands to make her way over to the karaoke machine, but Phil playfully pushes her back to her seat.
“Not so fast, love, I'm going to go first,” he chides, waggling his sassy “no no” finger in her face.
Dorotea huffs and folds her arms as she drops back into her seat. Phil straightens out his wig, which kind of suits him in a weird way, and messes with the buttons on the machine before the intro to a song begins playing. The lyrics to George Michael's “I Want Your Sex” start rolling down the screen and Phil begins swaying his hips from side to side as he jokingly sings to Nicholas, who's sitting comfortably before him with an amused look on his face.
When the song ends I stick two fingers into my mouth to give Phil an ear splitting wolf whistle and everyone claps for him. Dorotea slinks up to the machine and begins whispering in Phil's ear. He laughs and scrolls down his list of songs, searching for the one she's asked for. Once she's all set she shirks out of her white blazer and drapes it over the back of Nicholas' chair, revealing the cream silky blouse she has on underneath. She undoes a few more buttons and fluffs up her boobs. Nicholas laughs and shakes his head at her.
When her music starts playing I roll my eyes at the predictability of her song choice, “I Touch Myself” by Divinyls. She pouts her lips at Nicholas and leans over him so that he can see right down her blouse, as she sings in her deep Italian accent about how she doesn't want anybody else and that when she thinks about him she touches herself.
God, why does the Italian accent have to be so sexy? She's got an unfair advantage here. Although I do feel a little awkward for Nicholas when she levels her deep brown eyes on him and sings the line about thinking she'd die if he ignored her, because he kind of has been ignoring her tonight.
He claps politely and allows her to give him a peck on the cheek when she's finished singing.
“Okay, who wants to go next?” Phil asks, as he scans the room. I sink lower into my seat and focus intently on the glass of wine in my hand.
“Fred, how about you?” he says, when nobody else volunteers. Lovely. I let my gaze drift to Nicholas for a moment, and he looks positively delighted at the prospect of having me sing to seduce him.
“No Phil, I can't sing for shit,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“Oh come on, karaoke isn't about being able to sing. People with good voices who do karaoke just come across as show-off wankers. It's supposed to be funny!” he exclaims, strutting over and grabbing my hand.
“Funny eh? I thought the idea here was to seduce,” I mutter.
“That too,” he replies, and leans in to whisper, “sometimes when people think they're being sexy it's kind of hilarious,” he nods discreetly to Dorotea. It cheers me up that I wasn't the only one who noticed how corny she was singing that song.
“Oh go on then,” I answer, as an idea springs to mind. “Exactly how extensive is this collection of yours?”
“You'd be hard pressed to find a song I didn't have. I've got thousands,” says Phil.
I scroll through the artists list and grin when I get to W. The song I want to sing is right there on the screen. I grab the microphone and Phil hits play as I muster up my best British West Country accent.
When life throws you into uncomfortable situations such as being forced to sing in front of a room full of people, all you can do is resort to the lowest common denominator and take the piss. I place one hand on my hip, give Nicholas a cheeky grin and launch right into a rendition of “Combine Harvester” by The Wurzels.
Nicholas' face breaks out into a huge smile as I bop along to the beat, tur
ning from side to side like I'm doing line dancing. I tip my imaginary farmer's hat to him. By the time I get past the first verse everyone's pissing themselves laughing and singing along to the group “ooh ah ooh ah” bits. Well, everyone except for Dorotea, who either doesn't get the joke or just hates me having Nicholas' attention.
I tell him that I drove my tractor through his haystack last night.
I tell him that I threw my pitchfork at his dog to keep quiet.
I tell him that I've got a brand new combine harvester and that I want to give him the key.
I tell him that we'll have twins and triplets because I'm a man built for speed.
I tell him that he's a fine looking woman and that I can't wait to get my hands on his land.
By the time the song ends everyone is rolling around in hysterics. Nicholas isn't laughing anymore, he's staring at me with such tenderness that it makes me want to squeeze my eyes shut and blink to make sure that it's real.
He stands up from his seat and strides toward me. He cups my cheeks in both hands and looks right into my eyes for what feels like forever.
“You're adorable,” he whispers, just before his lips capture mine in a hot, deep kiss. I moan quietly when his tongue slides against mine.
“Well, I think we know who won this round,” Phil declares loudly.
I pull away from Nicholas just as I hear Dorotea shout, “Brutta! Vaffanculo!”
I don't speak a word of a Italian, but I've seen enough Mafia films to know she's said something along the lines of “fuck you bitch”. She's staring angrily at the both of us.
Nicholas pushes me behind him and steps forward. “Speak to her like that again and I'll throw you out of here,” he warns. Wow, for some reason I wasn't expecting him to stick up for me so fervently.
“What are you doing kissing her?” she demands, gesturing wildly at me with her hands. “I have told you I want you tonight and you do this!”
“And I told you I wasn't interested. It's not my fault you refused to listen.”
I guess you can't really argue with that logic. Dorotea stares at him for a minute before turning to assess me. “Why do you want her? She's fat.”
My panicked gaze flits to Nora, who's staring at Dorotea with her annoyed face on. Oh no, I can tell she's getting ready to pounce. We might call each other every name under the sun when we're hanging out in our apartment, but that's just good natured ribbing. Nora doesn't abide by anyone attacking me and I her. She gets up from her seat and stands in front of Dorotea.
“Don't fucking talk about Fred like that,” she warns.
Dorotea gives her a look up and down that is at once measuring and dismissive. “I say what I like, brutta.”
I step past Nicholas and pull Nora away from Dorotea. “Leave it Nora, she's just drunk.”
“Did you hear what she said? She called me a bitch in Italian. Who does she think she is?”
“I don't know, a hybrid of John Travolta and Tony Soprano maybe?” I make a joke to try and diffuse the situation.
Nora lets out a loud bark of a laugh. “John Travolta! Because of the suit, right?”
I nod.
“What did you say about me?” Dorotea questions. Her eyes have narrowed to slits.
I ignore her and glance at Nicholas, who has suddenly appeared beside me. “We're going to leave, things are getting a little hairy in here.” I say to him.
He strokes my cheek. “Don't go, if anyone should be leaving it's her.”
“I'm wrecked anyway, I want to go to bed. We'll talk soon though, okay?” I whisper.
“We will,” he leans forward and kisses the corner of my mouth. “And you're not fat, you're perfect,” he adds on so quietly that only I can hear. My heart melts just a little bit.
Nora exchanges phone numbers with the guy she'd been talking to all night and we head next door to our place, leaving a triumphant looking Dorotea in our wake.
She probably thinks that because we're leaving that she's won. I don't envy Nicholas' position right now, because he'll have to fend her off at some stage later on tonight I imagine. At least I hope he'll fend her off and not give in once she flashes her peachy boobs at him.
Nora throws her keys on the coffee table in the living area and plops down onto the sofa. I slip off my shoes, grab us both a glass of water and sit on the armchair opposite her.
“Here, drink this if you want to lessen your hangover in the morning,” I say, shoving the glass over to her.
She takes a long gulp, wipes her mouth with her wrist and eyes me with interest. “So, that was some hot kiss Nicholas gave you. It didn't look like it was a first kiss either. What haven't you been telling me Fred?” Great, I thought she'd be distracted enough by Dorotea's drunken outburst that she wouldn't ask me about the kiss.
I let out a short breath and don't even bother trying to lie. “You're right, it was our second kiss - I think. We had a bit of a fumble in his living room about two weeks ago, but we kind of got into an argument afterwards, so he's kept his hands to himself ever since. Until tonight, of course.”
“Oh my God, you secretive little slut. Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was embarrassed, and also because I was depressed over the fact that I can't have him the way that I want him.”
“Pfft, if a man kissed me like that I'd take him any way I could get him,” Nora replies.
“Yeah, yeah, you're a real sexual adventurer,” I roll my eyes. Similar to me, Nora is all talk when it comes to sex. “I just don't know if the subsequent heartache will be worth a night with him. He shagged Dorotea and now it's like he can't even bear to look at her. I'd be down in the dumps forever if that were to happen with me. The man is gorgeous, but he obviously has issues. The question is, do I want to put myself on the receiving end of them?”
“Just do it with him Fred. I can almost smell the hormones coming off you. You need to get it out of your system.”
This is Nora's drunken solution to my drunken worries. She takes a gulp of water before continuing, “Anyway, did you get a look at Richard? The guy I was chatting to all night? We're going out on a date this Wednesday. He bar tends at The Glamour Patch half the week, and works in The Button Factory in Temple Bar the other half. That's right around the corner from where I work,” she gushes.
“Very serendipitous,” I tell her drily. “The Button Factory though?” I scrunch up my nose in distaste. “That place is full of music snobs. Make sure you don't mention to him that your favourite album is Mariah Carey's Greatest Hits, or your burgeoning romance will be over before it's even started.” I joke. “He is hot though, you'll have to tell me all about what happens on your date.”
“Yeah, just like you told me all about you and Nicholas and your living room romp,” she says, raising a cynical eyebrow.
“I'm going to get some sleep,” I reply, ignoring her comment as I glance up at the clock. “I have to be up in three hours to bake.”
“Ugh, I'd hate to be you,” Nora chirps. “And by the way, my favourite album is “This is Me...Then” by J-Lo, so get your facts straight,” she adds on as I'm shutting my bedroom door.
I laugh and crawl into bed.
When my alarm goes off my head feels like a it's been pulverised with a meat grinder. I suppose it's my own fault for knocking back the wine like a housewife on her night off from the kids. I trudge my way through my morning baking routine and go to take a long, hot shower once the cupcakes are cooking in the oven.
I shudder just before I step under the spray, because I can still smell Nicholas' aftershave on my skin from last night. In a weird way, I kind of don't want to wash it off.
I towel dry my hair once I get out and stare at my tired eyes in the steamy mirror. The only thing keeping me going right now is prospect of slipping back into bed when I return from The Cake Shop.
The annoying thing is that after I've delivered the cakes I'm wide awake. I cycle back to the apartment with a tingling heart. I really want to see Nicholas, perha
ps because somewhere in the back of my mind I enjoy torturing myself.
I finally decide to give in to the temptation when I grab the ingredients for eggs Benedict and drop into his place to make him breakfast. He gave me a spare key last week so that I could get into his apartment and sort through his costumes when he was out. I still haven't returned it.
I send him a quick text message to let him know I'm on my way. He replies immediately with a simple, “Looking forward to it” and one of those winky faces. I've never fully understood the use of smileys in texts. I always end up using a frowning face when I should be using a vaguely annoyed one, or a smiling one when I should be using a shocked one. Anyway, with a bag of food in my hand I turn the key in the lock and step inside his place.
The apartment isn't looking great after last night's shindig. I drop the food on the kitchen counter and then walk over to the living area where I find Dorotea and Phil all tangled up and asleep on the sofa together. Dorotea's wearing Phil's shirt and he's wearing her blouse. I see the party didn't end after Nora and I had left, then.
I shake Phil by the shoulder to wake him and a second later he stirs and begins rubbing at his eyes. Dorotea groans and wakes up too.
“Fred, what time is it?” Phil asks, looking a little out of sorts.
I glance at the clock. “Almost ten. How are you feeling?”
“Like I just ate a bowl full of sand. Ugh, I'd be eternally grateful if you could rustle me up a cup of coffee.”
“I'll do you one better. I'm making eggs Benedict for Nicholas, do you want some?”
I allow my eyes to flick to Dorotea for a moment. She's currently running her hands through her dishevelled hair in a effort to neaten it up.
“Oh that would be wonderful,” Phil exclaims, his face instantly brightening. This is why I love cooking for people; it can magically transform a cranky person into a cheerful one.
Dorotea is looking a little sheepish. She hasn't yet said a word. I decide to put her out of her misery. “Will you have some breakfast too?” I ask her with a polite smile. I can't blame her for how she reacted last night. After all, Nicholas did sort of love her and leave her in the lurch.
