by K. M. Liss
“A student card... some ID then?”
“I’ve gotta young person's ID card.” Finlay got out his wallet and placed it open on the counter, his ID card on display.
The manager cast his eyes over it briefly.
“And you, young lady?”
“No I don’t, sorry. I had all my stuff stolen a couple of days ago,” I said. It was actually four months ago, but whatever.
“Oh … shame 'bout that; 'appens a lot so I hear,” he said with a half smile of sympathy. “So... that'll be thirty five quid then. Plus a tenner deposit, returnable when you check out, subject to breakages.”
I signed the guest book while Finlay paid for the room, along with the deposit. The manager placed the door key and a set of two small towels on the counter between us.
“Make that four towels, mister. Big bath size ones if you please,” Finlay said pleasantly.
The manager raised his bushy grey eyebrows, like he'd never heard such an audacious request.
“That'll be another four pounds for the laundry, sonny.”
“What the fuck d'ya wash em in... gold dust?” Finlay muttered.
“I'll have you know, one pound per large towel is a very reasonable charge, actually, the driers are expensive,” the manager replied, holding his hand out. Finlay handed over another four pound coins, slapping them in his hand grumpily. The manager grabbed the two small towels and bent down, puffing and blowing, disappearing under the counter for a moment, and exchanging them for four larger ones.
I picked up the towel pile and cuddled it to my chest. It smelt fresh and clean and felt so soft and fluffy. I was so looking forward to wrapping myself in one of those towels and imagined my skin tingling and clean from my hot bath, nestling against the virginal snow white.
“Room's on the second floor, first on the right. I've given ya a quiet room at the back. Breakfast from seven till ten ... over there.” The manager flicked a chubby finger at a blue painted door labelled 'restaurant'. “Checkout at ten a.m. promptly or you will forfeit your deposit in full ... so be warned, the pair o' ya,” he said, turning his back and dismissing us.
I followed Finlay to the staircase.
“Wait over there a tick,” Finlay said, pointing at a chair to my side.
“No ... Why?”All I wanted to do was get up there and dive in the bath and laze on the bed. I didn't need him to set the scene, run the bath and turn down the duvet for me.
“Because I said so.”
“Oh, for Gods sake! You are such a control freak.”
“Fucking cheek! Who's payin' for this, grumpy-face? Gimme five little minutes, okay?”
“I know your five little minutes – more like half a fricking hour!” I huffed, folding my arms, pouting, and staring over his shoulder to avoid his smug, smiling face. But I could still see that blazing white smile rising. He cupped my chin in his hand and squeezed my cheeks.
“Ahh, poor little Princess,” he said in an annoying tone of voice, puckering his lips comically. “Not getting your own way again? So impatient, aren't ya? Promise to be back in five this time, Scouts honour.” He released me and stuck his hand up in the scouts salute.
I couldn't stop the smile. “I can't imagine you being a boy scout for a second, but off you go then. I guess I can remain dirty for another five minutes,” I said.
“Yeah... won't be long, your grubbiness.” Sniggering, he took the towels from me and raced up the stairs taking them two at a time. I sat down and twiddled with my hair, gazing around the dimly lit lobby trying not to catch the manager's eye. He was staring at me and it was making me feel very uncomfortable. Creep. I drifted off in my thoughts and daydreamed some more of my bath and the beautiful scent steaming around me. I'd had a few hot showers at the local swimming pool, but that cost a fiver each time. It was nearly two weeks ago Ribelle sneaked me in her room for a shower when Davi had gone into hospital for an operation. But rushing in and out of her shower didn't in any way compare to this. Lazing in a hot bath and sleeping in between clean sheets was a very special treat for me.
* * *
True to his word, in just a few minutes Finlay bounded back down the stairs and arrived in front of me full of grin.
“Oh my goodness, back so soon?” I said sarcastically.
“Yep,” he replied, ignoring my caustic wit.
He'd removed his coat, so I could now see his new hoodie.
“That's a really nice sweatshirt. Where did you get it” I zoned in on the logo. It was a Hollister. That stuff didn't come cheap. I'd been to that shop a lot in the past - when I had the money.
“It was a freebie from a friend.”
“Oh really? Must be a good friend giving away stuff like that?”
“It was kind of a bonus, and he's the generous type.”
“Very generous, I'd say...” I replied feeling intrigued, and wanting to know more about this generous friend of his.
“Well c'mon then,” he said with a warm smile, holding his hand out. I rose, slipped my hand in his and we ran up the stairs together.
He twisted the key in the lock and turned to me.
“Close your eyes... and no peeping till I say so, right?”
I closed my eyes as requested, smiling like an idiot and by this point getting far too excited for my own good.
He led me inside a few steps and then stood behind me holding my shoulders.
The warmth of his breath whispered in my ear. “Right … you can look.”
I opened my eyes and instantly I wanted to cry.
I didn't notice the room, or anything of my surrounds, because there on the bed was an angel. Not a real angel of course, but an angel shaped blue bottle of bubble bath, a matching angel soap and a baby blue bath lily. Next to that sat a blue and white polka dot gift bag. And to cap it off, a collection of blue tea light candles were glimmering on the beside tables.
He'd certainly excelled himself.
I was surprised, ecstatic ― and also very confused.
Finlay seemed to making a big fuss of me. I didn't know the reason why – and my heart didn't dare hope what this could mean.
“Fin … what's all this for?” I searched his face for some sign.
“You've no clue at all, 'av ya?”
“Nope.” I shook my head, my heart pounding and my mouth going dry with expectations I shouldn't have.
“I didn't think so. Does twenty four oh two ring a bell?”
Twenty four oh two?
I shook my head, frowning in bewilderment.
“Jeez! … Happy eighteenth birthday, Kate!”
My hand shot to my mouth. “Oh. My. God!” The twenty fourth of February! How the hell could I have not known the date? Actually, it was easy not to know. Every day was the same on the street - the Nth of Never. “I cannot believe you remembered my birthday and I didn't…”
“I'm very good with dates. Never forget a special one once it's in the grey stuff.” He tapped his head. He picked up the gift bag and handed it to me. “Hope it fits. I know you need it.” By the way he shuffled on the spot. I could tell he was a little awkward about it, whatever it was.
I peeked inside the bag and drew out my gift with a held breath. A black drawstring Nike bag lay rolled up inside, and also a black waist purse.
“Oh Fin ... thanks...” These were definitely very useful and much appreciated gifts, similar to those which I'd had stolen months before. But I spotted the Nike bag was stuffed with something else. I dropped the gift bag, drew open the drawstring and tipped the contents out on the bed. My eyes settled on the pack of three pairs of Brazilian brief knickers with hot pink lace edging and two matching trimmed black bras.” As I read the label, I saw he'd guessed the size about right too.
“I got black because ... well ... it's very practical, innit?... And I like black. A lot.” He smiled sheepishly, not meeting my eye.
“I love black too. They're beautiful. My God. I can't believe you've done this for me.” I picked up the underwear and fingered the soft silky fabric.
He couldn't have chosen a better present. My current bra and knickers were only fit for burning. I placed them reverently on the bed and turned to face him. “But how could you afford all this?”
“I bought those last week and Ribelle looked after 'em for me. Some girl shop was 'avin a sale up Bond Street. It's good stuff though, not sale trash.”
“Oh. Well thank you very much. For everything. And for remembering. It means a lot.”
“You're most welcome, beautiful.”
“I love all my presents. I promise I'll look after them.”
“Make sure you fucking do... no one's stealing them knickers or I'll spank ya bare backside.”
“Actually, I might like that.”
“You're just joking, right?” He said, but there was definitely a hot twinkle in his eye.
“Yeah. But I can tease you too, can't I?” Giggling, I threw myself at him and hugged him, banding him tightly within the circle of my arms. And at that moment, I truly felt happier than I'd felt for years. His arms slipped around my shoulders and he sank against me, relaxing, his head resting against mine. I drank him in, my senses alive and buzzing. I was intoxicated by his smell, his warmth, his strength and the hardness of his male body.
It was almost too much. And yet not nearly enough.
Finlay was like a drug to me. A lifesaving drug I couldn't do without. I was already so addicted to him, I could never let him go.
Because that would kill me.
Chapter 5
My bath over, I wrapped myself in a dry bath towel, which wasn't as big as promised and just about covered the essentials. I dried my hair with the tiny, underpowered hair-drier provided on the equally tiny vanity unit. It took a while, but I enjoyed the sensual stream of warm air running down my neck. I missed little things like this so much. Before I finished up, I let some water out of the bath, turned the hot tap on and added an extra generous slug of bubble bath under the stream of running water. Then I left the steamy comfort of the bathroom for the bedroom.
“All yours, don't be long Fin, I've left the tap running,” I said, sweeping through the cool air to the bedside.
Finlay was lazing on the bed reading a book, with both pillows scrunched up beneath his head. I'd got him into books. We were in the charity shop one day and I bought him one for twenty pence as a gift. He laughed at me at first and told me to fuck off, he wasn't wasting time reading stupid stories. Although I'd had to persuade him to start reading it, to his great surprise he enjoyed it so much he wouldn't put it down for hours. Reading was one of my greatest loves. Literature was what I'd been studying at sixth form college before I did my flit. I don't know how I'd have survived the streets without the escapism and fantasy that books provided. The library was where we both spent a lot of time. It was warm, quiet, safe had free water to drink and was full to the brim with literary genius. Unsurprisingly, it appeared Finlay enjoyed crime and thriller novels over my Jane Austin's, Shakespeare and my latest passion for Nora Roberts. His current book was a dog-eared Lee Child, and being devoured very swiftly, by the looks of it.
“That's a good book then?”
He closed it and tossed it on the side table.
“Yeah, wicked. So... enjoy your soak?” he asked, running his eyes up and down me in my short towel.
“It was an amazing bath and I smell like an angel – but to be honest I'm a bit miffed about the back scrub I didn't get.”
“Sorry 'bout that. Reacher got shot, so couldn't leave it, see...” he offered as an excuse.
“Fin, I called you three times. You said in a minute each time. In the end I had to get out 'cos the water was going cold. I was really looking forward to you scrubbing me up for my birthday.” I tried to sound a little seductive, rather than disappointed.
“Sorry. No concept of time, 'av I?” And he grinned and winked at me. Even when he was in my bad books, Finlay was completely adorable and I forgave him the back scrub instantly. I'd probably forgive him absolutely anything. I found myself grinning back. “Better get on with it, I s'pose,” he said, rolling up and stretching, making his manly animal noises I always found so appealing. Then he sauntered off to the bathroom, undoing his fly en route. I watched as he arrived in the bathroom, and leaving the door wide open, he dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, kicking them away. The black socks flew off soon after. He bent over the bath, giving me a very nice rear view as he turned the tap off and swirled the mountain of foam around. I couldn't tear my eyes away as he stripped off his new hooded sweat shirt and the black t-shirt underneath. As he dropped his boxers and hopped gracefully into the bath, he flashed me everything in the process. His cheeky smile and wink said it all. He knew I was watching.
“Nice ass,” I said, blushing at being caught out.
“Prime asset you mean?”
“Ewww. Thanks for reminding me of that.”
I walked over to the bathroom doorway and leaned against it.
“So you find gay sex disgusting, do ya?” he asked me.
“Some things.”
“That's 'cos you're not gay.”
“Do you find female bodies repulsive?”
“No, I probably feel the same way you do looking at naked girls and guys.”
“Hardly... I'm not turned on looking at naked women, am I?”
“Aren't ya?” he raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I was wondering if you could be a little bit bi - lots of girls are ya know?”
I held my hands up in protest.
“Well I'm not. So you can wipe that fantasy from your dirty little mind, okay?”
Fin chuckled loudly. I loved his throaty laugh. I actually wanted to suck it from his mouth at times. “So when did you realise you were homosexual, Fin?”
“Fuck... I dunno? Always, I guess. I was aware I was interested in boys quite young.”
He lay back arranging the foam around his lower regions and began to soap his arms with the angel bar.
Lifting the bar of soap to his nose, he sniffed the scent, closing his eyes.
“I love this bluebell stuff,” he said with a long sigh of satisfaction.
“It's actually hyacinth, look,” I corrected him, pointing at the bottle of bath foam, which was decorated with hyacinth flowers.
“Don't know one flower from the next. Apart from roses. And daffodils. That's about it.”
He was so sweet at times. I walked in, picked up the blue bath lily he'd bought and took the soap from his hand. I sat on the end of the bath behind him and lathered it up.
“Lean forward.”
I gently rubbed his smooth back with the soapy lily. I moved it slowly all over his broad shoulders and up into his neck and hairline. And then down into the water, skimming his ass. His skin was pink and smooth and his lean muscles were well defined underneath. It was heaven touching him, but at the same time I was torturing myself.
My hand stilled as my imagination stirred in ways it shouldn't.
His head swivelled round to face me. “Please don't stop.”
I was in two minds, wanting to continue, but feeling I shouldn't. But in the end I couldn't resist having my hands on him.
“Okay then. Wet your hair, I'll do your head as well.”
He leaned over and soaked his head with handfuls of water.
I poured a little bubble bath in my hand and rubbed it into his hair, foaming up a thick lather. I massaged his scalp sensuously, my fingers and thumbs rubbing in circular movements. My hands slipped down his neck, soaping all around the angles of his shoulders and ears and then up to his temples.
“Oh my God,” he groaned.
I leaned down and kissed his foamy cheek.
“I guess you like that?” I liked it way too much myself.
“It's actually giving me a hard on.”
I kept my eyes averted from the foam. I didn't want to see the evidence breaching the bubbles. Or maybe I did. My imagination was running riot. A delicious ache tugged at my stomach, and deep inside my vagina tightened, hard. Suddenly, I
couldn't take any more. What was I doing? Indulging in this kind of fantasy wasn't leading to anything positive, only adding fuel to my growing frustration.
”Ooops... I'd better stop there then,” I said, making light of it and getting up. “There...” I dropped the bath lily in his lap pointedly. “You can do your hard places yourself.”
I left the bathroom, half closing the door, partly for his privacy but more for my own good. “You have a nice time.” I stood outside taking some deep breaths of cool air into my tortured body.
“I'll be out in a sec. Don't like lying in the bath too long, it makes everything all wrinkly, don't it?”
I crossed the room and flopped on the bed with a groan, lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. I could hear him splashing about, humming something enthusiastically. I badly wanted to be in there, splashing in the bath with him, lying back with his arms and legs wrapped round me.
But thinking things like that was pointless. I was becoming obsessed with something I just couldn't have.
* * *
We lay in bed and it felt strange and awkward. We weren’t even touching, but there was something different in the air tonight. At least I felt there was. It was probably just hormones and an overactive imagination, or maybe the excitement of my birthday surprise and the occasion. All the weeks we'd been spooned up together in his sleeping bag, unable to move, like a pair of sardines in a can, I'd never felt this strength of awareness. But now, in our underwear, with space between us it felt so much more intimate.
He turned towards me and leaned up on his elbow, his fingers reaching out to twirl strands of my hair. His eyes were on mine, unwavering.
I sighed softly, thinking if only.
“Kate, can I ask ya something personal?”
“Go on then.”
“You've gotta answer me honestly, right?”
“I'll do my best.”
If he was going to ask me something about my past, I'd be very upset. I didn't want anything to spoil my birthday treat.
“D'ya wanna fuck me?” he asked me softly, placing his fingers on my arm gently. But the heat of shock that flooded through me was anything but soft and gentle. Oh my God – he was certainly direct – I hadn't seen that coming at all. My mouth opened to reply, but I didn't know whether to hotly deny it or admit that I did. He gripped my chin between his fingers, tipping my flushed up face to his. “Come on, Princess... you've thought about it, ain't ya? I've seen the way you look at me.”
