French Kissing

by Lynne Shelby

  What? I should be leaving for work round about now. I checked the alarm clock on my nightstand. Which had failed to wake me up. Because, coming in so late last night, I’d forgotten to set it. My head pounding from lack of sleep (OK, I admit it, and from the amount of wine I’d drunk), I forced myself out of bed, stumbled groggily across my bedroom, and flung open my door.

  An unshaven Alex met me in the hall with a cup of black coffee. ‘I thought you might need this.’

  ‘I do. I feel terrible.’

  ‘Yeah. Me too. Can’t think why.’

  I managed a weak smile. After our encounter with Nick’s parents, Alex and I’d shared a bottle of wine in a piano bar, before making the (rash) decision to go clubbing. Even on a week night, the queue to get into ultra-fashionable Club Attitude stretched around the block, but a flash of Alex’s white teeth and a few words in French to the hostess on the door, and we were ushered past the bouncers and inside. I’d dragged Alex straight out onto the dance floor (well, now I finally had the chance to dance with him, I wasn’t going to let him decide that what he really wanted to do was sit at the bar and gape at the celebrities in the roped-off VIP area), and the next couple of hours passed in a blur of flashing lights and pulsating music. It was only the thought of having to get up for work the next morning that made us leave the club before it closed.

  ‘I feel ghastly now, but I had fun last night.’ I said.

  ‘So did I,’ Alex grinned. ‘We should do it again, but maybe when we can sleep in the next day – sorry, Anna, I really need to get going. Not that they can’t start the shoot without me, but it looks just a bit unprofessional if I arrive late. Salut.’

  Stopping only to pick up his camera case, Alex let himself out of the flat.

  I swallowed a mouthful of black coffee, hoping that the bitter taste would clear my head. It didn’t. Neither did the shower, the aspirin, or the pint of water I drank, before I too headed off to work. I was well and truly hungover. But last night had been great. It’d been far too long since I’d danced ’til dawn (or ’til I’d missed the last train home and had to get the night bus), and I wasn’t about to start regretting my night out, even if I was paying for it now.

  By not blow-drying my hair, and doing my make-up on the train, I managed to arrive at Nova Graphics more or less on time, and with the assistance of several more black coffees, I got through the emails, phone calls, and meetings that made up my working day. Several of my colleagues said that they liked my new hair-do (‘Those waves really suit you, Anna’), which made me wonder why I ever bothered to get up in time to straighten my hair. I was still very relieved when 5.30 arrived, and I was able to switch off my computer, slip out of the studio unnoticed (before anyone tried to rope me into an after-work drink), and head for home.

  I was almost at the station when I heard Izzy calling my name.

  ‘You look ever so pale, Anna,’ she said, falling in beside me and matching her stride to mine. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m just tired,’ I said. ‘I didn’t get much sleep last night.’

  ‘Was Nick staying over?’ Izzy said, with a giggle.

  ‘No, he wasn’t,’ I said. ‘He’s out of town. At a conference.’

  ‘Were you lying awake pining for him? That is so sweet. When does he get home?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘So how are you planning to welcome him back?’

  I looked at her blankly.

  ‘Anna! You must let Nick know how much you’ve missed him. I recommend the traditional candlelit dinner for two, with champagne on ice and classical music, followed by mind-blowing sex.’

  Oh, for goodness sake, the man had only been gone a week.

  ‘I’ll give it some thought.’

  We came to a bus stop. ‘This is me,’ Izzy said.

  ‘I’ll see you Monday, then,’ I said.

  ‘Before you go,’ Izzy said, ‘there’s something I want to ask you. About Alexandre.’

  My heart sank. I’d only had four hours’ sleep, was still hungover, and had spent most of the day in front of a computer screen. I really couldn’t deal with Izzy’s unrequited passion right now.

  Izzy said, ‘I was thinking that you could invite me round to your place sometime, when he’s there …’

  Give me strength. ‘Alex isn’t interested in dating you,’ I said, heartlessly, ‘and throwing yourself at him isn’t going to make any difference.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be throwing myself at him. I’d just be reminding him of my existence.’

  ‘Izzy, you can’t force Alex to like you.’

  ‘I can try,’ Izzy said. ‘Oh, there’s my bus –’

  ‘Have a good weekend, Izzy,’ I said, making my escape while she was scrabbling in her bag for her Oyster card.

  I didn’t manage to get a seat on my train journey home, and by the time I let myself into my flat, the headache I’d had on and off throughout the day had returned with a vengeance. Half an hour later, lying in a hot bath, with half a bottle’s worth of bubbles, sipping a cup of camomile tea, and I was feeling a whole lot better. And hungry. Actually, I was starving. Probably because I’d had nothing but black coffee and dry biscuits all day (which was all I’d felt able to stomach). I’d make myself some cheese on toast, I decided, and then I’d go to bed and watch a rom com on my laptop, before having an early night.

  The doorbell rang. I ignored it. It rang again. It occurred to me that Alex might have forgotten his key.

  With a sigh, I got out of the bath, wrapped myself in a towel, trotted into the hall, and picked up the intercom.

  Nick’s voice said, ‘Anna. Hi.’

  ‘Nick? I thought you were in Manchester ’til tomorrow.’

  ‘I decided to drive back tonight. I thought I’d surprise you.’

  I felt a stab of annoyance. Nick never came to my flat without phoning first, unless I invited him. Why did he have to choose tonight to turn up unexpectedly on my doorstep, when all I wanted to do was relax.

  ‘Anna? Can you let me in?’

  I buzzed him in, and a few minutes later, let him into my flat.

  ‘How come you’re back early?’ I said.

  ‘I was missing you.’ Nick set his laptop case down carefully on the hall table. ‘I couldn’t face another night in a lonely hotel room. So I skipped the end-of-conference dinner, and drove straight here.’

  Nick never did anything on the spur of the moment, but he’d come back to London a day early just to be with me. My irritation at his arrival faded. Suddenly I was riven with guilt that I hadn’t flung myself into his arms the moment he’d stepped inside the door.

  Nick said, ‘You’re not dressed.’

  ‘No, I was in the bath –’

  I remembered what Beth and Izzy had said about welcoming Nick home. I didn’t have any champagne in the fridge, and there was no classical music on my iPod, but I could still be extra nice to him tonight. I smiled, and lowered my towel.

  ‘The water’s still hot,’ I said. Come and join me.’

  Nick’s eyes widened and his mouth actually fell open. Clutching my towel with one hand, I reached up and unknotted his tie with the other. Then, with a glance over my shoulder and another smile, trailing my towel behind me, I walked slowly along the hallway to the bathroom, and climbed back into the bath.

  After about five minutes, Nick came into the bathroom in his boxers.

  ‘Sorry I was so long,’ he said. ‘I had to hang up my suit.’

  So much for spontaneity.

  Nick pulled off his underwear, stepped over the rim of the bath, and cautiously lowered himself into the water, so that he was sat facing me. I leant forward, and we kissed. Somewhat chastely, I felt, considering we sitting in a bath together, naked.

  ‘So how was your conference?’

  ‘It was useful,’ Nick said, ‘How was your week? I hear that you and Alexandre met my parents last night.’

  Despite the warmth of the bath water, I suddenly felt cold. Was this why Nick had decide
d to come home a day early? Because he wanted to check up on me and Alex? Unbelievable.

  ‘Yes, we did,’ I said. ‘We’d stopped off for a drink on our way home from Beth and Rob’s, and ran into your parents in Piccadilly Circus.’ Keep it simple, Anna. No need to mention that you stayed out half the night dancing in a club.

  ‘Oh, yes, you said you were going to Beth and Rob’s.’

  ‘We had a good evening,’ I said. ‘Shall I wash your back?’

  Nick shook his head. Then he grabbed hold of my shoulders and kissed me again. Evidently, he’d decided that Alex and I could be trusted to visit an old friend – whatever his mother had said to him. I slid forward so that I was sitting with my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and his erection against my stomach. We kissed until the bathwater grew chill.

  ‘I think we should go into the bedroom now.’ Nick said.

  Ten

  I lay on my side on my bed, resting my head on one elbow, Nick lying close beside me, his hand straying over my rear. My empty stomach rumbled accusingly, but Nick didn’t appear to notice. He rolled me onto my back, and I opened my legs so that he could position himself on top of me. He shoved himself into me, and then he was pounding away, eyes shut, breathing hard, and I was holding him, my arms tight around him, noticing a new crack in the ceiling plaster, hoping that Alex’s working day had been better than mine, wondering what he was doing now, hearing Nick groan as he came –

  Nick sighed contentedly, and clambered off me.

  ‘I hope that was as good for you as it was for me,’ he said.

  ‘It was lovely,’ I lied. He’d only feel bad if I told him I didn’t come.

  While Nick relaxed back onto the pillows, I found myself unable to lie still. Restless and hungry, I got out of bed and put on an over-sized T-shirt.

  ‘I’m going to fix myself some cheese on toast,’ I said. ‘Would you like some?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ve already eaten,’ Nick said. ‘I stopped at a service station on the motorway.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  Nick yawned. ‘Take as long as you like. I’m going to sleep.’ He turned onto his side and pulled the duvet up over his shoulders.

  I went to the kitchen, grilled a couple of slices of cheese on toast, and carried my plate into the living room. Alex was sitting on the sofa, texting on his mobile.

  I said, ‘Hey, Alex.’

  He started. ‘Anna. I thought you’d gone to bed.’ His gaze strayed to my legs. Belatedly, I realised that my baggy T-shirt barely covered the top of my thighs. He said, ‘Is Nick here?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’ I sat at the dining table, pulling the T-shirt down as far as it would go.

  ‘I thought he must be,’ Alex said. ‘I saw his boxers on the bathroom floor. At least, as they’re not mine, I assumed they’re his.’

  ‘Yes, they’ll be Nick’s,’ I said, thankful that Alex hadn’t come home while Nick and I were in the bath, as I didn’t recall either of us locking the bathroom door. ‘Shall we discuss something other than my boyfriend’s underpants? How was your shoot?’

  ‘It was good – once the aspirin kicked in and I got over my hangover. I was photographing a writer. Verity Holmes.’

  I paused in the act of taking a bite of toast. ‘She’s my favourite author. I adore her books.’

  ‘I know.’ Standing up, Alex passed me a paperback, which had been lying on the sofa. ‘She gave me a copy of her latest novel, so I had her sign it for you.’

  I opened the book at the title page and saw the words, ‘To Anna Mitchel. I hope you enjoy reading my book as much as I enjoyed writing it. With best wishes, Verity H.’

  ‘Thank you so much. This is the first time I’ve ever owned a book signed by the author. Merci beaucoup.’

  ‘You’re welcome, mon amie.’

  He was standing next to the dining table, looking down at me, his dark hair falling over his forehead into his eyes, a soft smile playing about his full, sensual mouth. I smiled up at him, and found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips on my lips, his tongue …

  What was wrong with me? My boyfriend, with whom I’d just had sex, was in the next room, in my bed.

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased with the book,’ Alex said. Abruptly, he turned away from me, and sat back down on the sofa.

  ‘I – I’ll start reading it tomorrow.’

  Alex didn’t answer. He was studying his phone, apparently absorbed in whatever was on the screen.

  I swallowed my last few mouthfuls of cheese on toast, and said, ‘Bonne nuit, Alex.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Hugging my book against my chest, I went to the kitchen and deposited my plate in the dishwasher, before returning to my bedroom. The light from the street lamp outside, shining through a gap in the curtains, was enough for me to see that Nick had pushed the duvet down to his stomach and was now lying on his back, his arms flung wide. His eyes were shut, and his heavy, even breathing told me that he was asleep. Placing my new novel on top of my books-to-be-read pile, I sat on the side of the bed, and watched Nick’s chest rise and fall. I had a sudden compelling need to wake him up and tell him that I loved him, but contented myself with kissing his forehead very gently. Then I slid into bed.

  I hadn’t kissed Alex. I had no intention of ever kissing Alex. And even if I’d wanted to kiss him – if the thought of how it would taste and feel to kiss Alex had been anything more than just a momentary fantasy – he’d given no indication that he was interested in kissing me. Nick had nothing to worry about.

  Eleven

  Nick stopped his car outside my flat.

  ‘You can still change your mind and sleep here,’ I said.

  ‘Not tonight, Anna. If I’m getting up at four a.m to drive my parents to the airport, it makes sense for me to stay at their place.’

  When, a couple of weeks after he’d come back from Manchester, Nick had told me that his parents were going on a month-long Caribbean cruise, I’d been ecstatic. A whole month without his mother’s incessant demands for our presence at some dire gathering. I shouldn’t have been surprised when, the night before they were due to fly out to Antigua, Mrs Cooper decided that she couldn’t trust a minicab to turn up on time, and that Nick would have to drive them to Gatwick. Nick and I had been in a restaurant when she’d called. I’d assumed that my touching his thigh under the table would encourage him to make an excuse as to why he couldn’t just abandon his own (and my) plans for the night in order to act as her chauffeur, but as usual, he wouldn’t refuse a request from his mother. Even when she was leaving the country, that woman managed to irritate me.

  Through gritted teeth, I said, ‘Tell your parents I hope they have a wonderful holiday.’

  ‘I think you and I should book a holiday,’ Nick said. ‘A couple of weeks in the sun. Just the two of us.’

  ‘Really?’ Last year, he’d gone on a golfing holiday in Spain with some business associates (‘It’s such a good networking opportunity, Anna’) and I’d gone to Crete with a group of female friends.

  ‘Would you like that?’ Nick said.

  I thought of palm-fringed beaches and olive-covered hillsides, blue swimming pools and long cool drinks, bikinis and sarongs, Nick and I lazing in the sun or exploring narrow cobbled streets.

  ‘I would love to go on holiday with you.’

  ‘Great. I’ll see you on Saturday, and we’ll take a look at some of the online travel sites.’

  ‘You could come over tomorrow night, if you like.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m going out with the guys from my office.’

  Of course he was. Like he did every Friday.

  Nick kissed the side of my face, and then leant past me to open the passenger door. ‘Goodnight, Anna.’

  ‘Night.’ I got out of the car.

  He waited until I was inside my building’s communal hallway before driving off.

  I trudged up the stairs to my flat and let myself in. The lights were on and
I could hear music coming from the living room, so I knew that Alex was home. Whatever Nick might think about Alex’s continuing presence, I’d seen very little of him over the last two weeks – either he’d come in after I’d gone to bed or I’d been at Nick’s – but now, because of Mrs Cooper’s travel arrangements, I’d have the opportunity to spend some time alone with my friend. Just this once, Mrs Cooper was forgiven.

  I opened the living room door and went in.

  The first thing I saw was Alex’s shirt and jeans lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to an equally crumpled dress. Alex was sitting on the sofa in his boxers, his eyes shut, his long legs stretched out in front of him, kissing a woman wearing just a bra and a thong, who was sprawled on his lap.

  ‘Alex!’ I gasped. I couldn’t help myself.

  Alex’s eyes flew open, and he looked at me with an almost comical expression of surprise on his face. For what seemed like ages, but in reality was probably no more than a few seconds, I just stood there, frozen, unable to move. Then I turned and ran, slamming the door behind me.

  I went to my room and sank down shakily on my bed. I was hideously embarrassed to have witnessed a scene of such intimacy, and more than a little shocked that Alex had brought a woman back to the flat. Then I had to ask myself why I was shocked. A single, twenty-eight-year-old guy, especially one as attractive as Alex, wasn’t going to be short of offers, and while he might not want a relationship, while he might still be carrying a torch for his ex, that didn’t mean he’d taken a vow of celibacy. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been with a girl since he broke up with Cécile. He’d already slept with Izzy. Not that it was any concern of mine who he hooked up with.

  I realised that I could no longer hear music. A few minutes, later I heard the sound of an angry female voice in the hall, and the front door opening and closing. Then there were approaching footsteps, and a knock on my door.

  ‘Anna? Can I talk to you?’

  My face on fire, I said, ‘Come in, Alex.’

  He pushed open the door and leant against the frame. He was, I was relieved to see, fully dressed.

  ‘Has she gone?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. I called her a cab.’