One Foot Onto the Ice

by Kiki Archer

  Marcus looked over his shoulder at the little girl. “Tell Madam Quinn what?” he hissed, crossing a rough bit of carpet and losing his balance.

  Daisy watched as Professor Ramsbottom rolled onto his side and lost his grip on the thin thing which flopped down onto the carpet. She pointed. “That.”

  “Just take it!” he shouted, trying to pull himself back together.

  ****

  The neck of the bottle swivelled to a stop in front of Jenna. “Right,” said Susan, eager to ask the first question. “What did you really—”

  Amber cut in. “You have to ask her if she wants truth or dare first.”

  “Oh, okay. Truth or dare?”

  Jenna smiled. “Dare.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Okay truth then.”

  Amber shook her head. “You can’t tell someone what to pick.”

  Jenna laughed. “No, I want a truth.”

  Susan nodded. “Fine. What did you really think of me at school?”

  Amber lifted her tankard. “I might go and join Marcus for some Burgundy if this is as raunchy as it’s getting.”

  “Hey, we always start off slow,” said Jenna, biting on her bottom lip and carefully composing her answer. “Okay, I thought you were quietly confident. I thought you were an intentional independent. One of those girls who enjoyed their own company. One of those girls who’d rather be head in a book than face in a crowd.” She nodded. “I thought you were a nice, normal, highly intelligent classmate.”

  “Were you good at sport?” asked Amber.

  Susan flushed. “You’re far too kind, Jenna.” She turned her attention to Amber. “But no, I wasn’t good at sport and I wasn’t as composed as Jenna makes out. I was shy, spotty, and I had no friends.”

  “You did,” said Jenna turning to Amber and narrowing her eyes, hoping she’d pick up on her annoyance at the sport question. She turned back to Susan. “You and Jennifer Grey were inseparable.”

  “She was a mute. Remember? She didn’t speak until we were fourteen.”

  Amber smirked. “What did she say when she finally spoke?”

  Susan nodded remembering. “She said, ‘I’m not a mute.’”

  Amber lifted the empty bottle and spun it with vigour. “Right, moving on from the mind-blowingly mesmerising mute anecdote, can we please liven it up a bit?” The bottle finally scraped to a stop in front of Jenna. “Right, truth or dare?”

  “Truth,” said Jenna again.

  “No, you always pick dares.”

  Jenna raised her eyebrows. “I thought you couldn’t tell someone what to pick.”

  “Fine,” said Amber, crossing her arms. “How many women have you had sex with? What is your current running total?”

  Jenna laughed. “You need to clarify the question. What do you call sex?”

  Susan fanned her face and glanced at the door. “Shall we lower our voices a bit?”

  Jenna leaned into the table and spoke quietly. “Sex with a man is easy to count. It’s that dreadful bit where he pops his tiddler into your woo woo.”

  Amber leaned in as well and whispered sarcastically. “Why are you talking like we’re three years old?”

  “Fine,” said Jenna, leaning back and speaking normally. “Vaginal penetration with the penis is what counts as sex between a man and a woman.”

  “Please!” hushed Susan, now completely red faced.

  Jenna leaned back in and smiled. “But would you say you’ve had sex with a man if you give him a Thomas Tank or a Barry Jones?” She took a gulp of beer. “He tickles your tuppy, does that count as sex?”

  “You’ve lost me,” said Susan, swallowing some beer in an attempt to cool herself down.

  “Thomas Tank, wank. Barry Jones, blow job. Tickling your tuppy means fingering your fanny. We were all doing it at fifteen, but our virginity was still intact.” Jenna paused. “Well no, mine wasn’t at fifteen, but you know what I’m getting at. What’s the one act with a woman that makes you classify it as sex?”

  Amber shook her head slowly and grinned. “Just give us the numbers. Let’s call orgasms when you’re naked with someone, sex, and let’s call everything else, experiences.”

  Jenna bit on her bottom lip and thought about it for a moment. “Fine,” she said. “In your terms I guess I’ve had sex with about twenty-five women and experiences with about fifty.”

  Amber nodded. “Yes, it shows.”

  Susan hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation with THE Jenna James.”

  Jenna laughed. “Come on then, Susan, tell us about your past.”

  Susan sighed. “It’s certainly not as exciting as yours.”

  “Give us your numbers,” said Amber. “I’ve had ten men, one woman,” she looked over at Jenna, “and I’m never going back.”

  “Good,” laughed Jenna, “because you’re starting to make me feel a bit uncomfortable.”

  “To men!” snapped Amber.

  Jenna took a long sip of beer, wiped her mouth and looked at her pink-haired colleague. “You can’t have drunken sex once with a woman and instantly change your orientation.”

  Amber narrowed her eyes teasingly. “You’re right, maybe we should do it again just so I’m sure.”

  Jenna turned to Susan, feeling she ought to explain. “Amber here’s a serial husband hunter. She thought she’d bagged a good one last year. He was a well-paid, fairly good looking banker. He came out to the slopes at Christmas, February and Easter.”

  Amber continued the story. “He came for the last week of the season too,” she sighed, “with his wife.”

  Susan shook her head. “And you’d been together?”

  “We were inseparable.” Amber reached over and placed her hand on top of Jenna’s. “Good job Jenna was here to soften the blow.”

  Jenna pulled her hand away and spoke to Susan. “We were drunk. It happened. I was comforting her. It was no big deal.”

  Amber folded her arms and huffed. “It was to me. You showed me how amazingly intense love making can be.” She quivered. “Mmmm, I still re-live the way you touched me.” She slowed her voice. “Kissed me.”

  Susan coughed lightly and pushed her chair back. “Right, well I think I’ll leave you two to it.” She stood up to leave.

  Jenna pulled on her hand. “No. We’re sorry. This must be uncomfortable for you, being so straight and all. You still haven’t told us about your men yet.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Jenna continued to tug on the hand. “Please. Just five more minutes. I feel like we’re getting to know each other all over again. I missed out at school. You’re such an intriguing woman.”

  Susan frowned. “Why am I intriguing?”

  “You just are. Now please, sit back down.”

  Susan gave in and pulled herself back into the table. “There’s nothing to tell. I kissed a boy once when I was on holiday with my parents. I was seventeen. He ran off and told his friends that I didn’t know how to do it properly.”

  “Oh bless you.” Jenna was trying not to smile.

  “It’s not funny. I’m awful at interaction.”

  “You interact well with me,” smiled Jenna.

  Susan paused. “Only because there’s no pressure. I’m fully aware that I’m not your type.”

  “How do you know?” smiled Jenna.

  “Jenna, are you trying to flirt with Susan?” joked Amber, not really joking at all.

  “No, just getting her to loosen up.” She looked back at Susan. “Come on. Who else has there been?”

  “I dated a guy called Bill at University. It lasted for a few months.”

  “Did you screw him?” asked Amber.

  Susan flushed. “We made love once or twice.” She shrugged. “Or we tried to. It was difficult.”

  “Why?” puzzled Amber.

  Susan fanned her face. “No, I’m not comfortable talking about things like this. I’m sorry, I’m hea
ding up.”

  Jenna scraped her chair towards Susan’s and took both of her hands. “Stay, please. We’ll keep it light and upbeat.” She smiled. “Please. You need to unwind from Marcus. Amber will pour us all another drink, won’t you, Amber?”

  Amber saluted her colleague and pushed back on her chair. “With pleasure,” she said rather sulkily. “But I can’t believe I’ve just met a twenty-six year old lady who’s only had attempted sex with one other human being.” She walked behind the bar and reached up to the tankards on the top shelf. “It’s not like you’re bad looking.”

  Jenna lowered her voice and leaned into Susan. “You know why she’s teasing you, don’t you?”

  Susan felt her heart quicken at the close contact. “Why?”

  “Because I like you. She feels put out.”

  Susan couldn’t meet the exotic eyes. “You like me?”

  “You’re complex. I like complex. I like finding the true person hidden under all of the layers.” Jenna reached out to Susan’s chin for the high zip on her lilac fleece.

  Susan looked down at the fingers, but didn’t move. “What are you doing?”

  Jenna eased the zip down one notch. “Peeling off your first layer. Addressing the issues you have with personal space.”

  Susan couldn’t move. She was barely breathing. She whispered the words. “I don’t have issues with personal space.”

  Jenna slowly pulled the zip down another notch. “Yes you do. You’ve already mentioned how tactile I am.” She let her fingers gently graze Susan’s neck. “Tactile is friendly.”

  Susan stammered. “Is this friendly?”

  “Tell me how you feel,” said Jenna, pulling herself even closer. “Be honest.”

  Susan kept her eyes on the floor. “Uncomfortable.”

  Jenna lifted Susan’s chin with her finger and got the eye contact she’d been searching for. “Don’t you mean intense?”

  Susan tried to ignore her racing heart and utter a denial, but nothing came out. She just stared; lost in the big brown eyes.

  Amber slammed the three heavy tankards on the table, sloshing frothy beer all over the place. “Oops,” she muttered.

  Jenna held Susan’s gaze for a moment longer before turning to Amber. “You are so obvious.”

  “So are you,” snapped Amber. She turned to Susan. “You do know she tries to bed every single female teacher she comes into contact with?”

  “I do not,” protested Jenna, turning her legs to the side and pushing her chair backwards.

  Amber continued to address Susan. “She does. She’s a player. She’ll play you, make you fall in love with her, and then move on to the next thing like nothing’s happened.”

  Jenna looked at Susan. “That’s not true.”

  “What were you doing then?” asked Amber, finally taking a seat and lifting a dripping tankard. “Looked like you were laying the groundwork to me.”

  Jenna shrugged. “I was testing my theory.”

  Susan reached out with a shaky hand and lifted her own drink. “My personal space issue?”

  Jenna pursed her lips. “Yeah sort of. Sorry, I was being an idiot.”

  Amber clicked her fingers. “Aha, you’ve told me about this before.” She looked at Susan. “She wasn’t being an idiot. She was trying to decide if you’re a lesbian or not. She has this test. She says it never fails.”

  “I do not,” said Jenna, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at Amber.

  “She does. She says she can tell just by getting really close to a woman if she’s a lesbian or not. She says it’s all about how they react.” Amber raised her eyebrows. “How did you react, Susan?”

  Susan was the colour of beetroot. “I should have listened to myself earlier and headed on up. I’m far too old for silly games, especially ones I’m not aware I’m playing.” She pushed her beer back towards Amber. “You two share it.” She managed to glance at Jenna. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jenna watched as Susan walked towards the door. “Hang on,” she shouted, jumping up at the last minute and racing over. She stopped next to Susan and spoke quietly, well out of Amber’s earshot. “You don’t want to know about my theory?”

  Susan shrugged. “Enlighten me. I’m used to being the butt of all jokes. What were you thinking? That a woman who’s only ever kissed two men must be desperate for any attention that’s thrown at her?”

  Jenna reached out and rubbed the sides of Susan’s arms. “Don’t say that, I feel dreadful.” She dropped her hands sensing Susan’s embarrassment. “I have a theory about connections.”

  “And?” Susan felt trapped between Jenna and the door.

  Jenna stepped in closer. “When you have an intense connection with someone there’s an invisible energy that only you two can feel. It makes your heart beat faster. It blocks out everyone else around you.” She paused and held Susan’s eyes. “It’s like a silent force, pulling you closer.”

  Susan was holding her breath, barely able to speak. “And?”

  Jenna stepped backwards and shrugged. “I was just seeing if we had it.”

  Susan looked at Jenna’s distance. “Clearly we don’t,” she whispered, reaching for the handle and opening the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Susan heard the door to the dining room click closed behind her and dashed up the stairs, away from the close contact embarrassment caused by Jenna. Jenna was playing games. Jenna was trying to show her up. Susan shook her head. The ever-so popular Jenna James was probably having a really good laugh right now with the super-cool pink-haired Amber. They were probably glugging from their tankards and daring each other to tell more truths. Truths that would no doubt be far more adventurous and explicit than anything she had to offer. Susan stopped climbing for a moment and held onto the long white banister, trying to process the events of the last five minutes. She thought carefully. Everyone gets nervous when someone’s in their personal space, don’t they? Everyone feels their heart racing when they’re spoken to so directly, don’t they? Everyone’s oblivious to their surroundings when in the presence of someone as charismatic and endearing as Jenna. Aren’t they?

  Susan sighed and looked backwards down Sylvie’s carpeted staircase. Maybe she should turn around and make the whole thing a joke? Maybe she should get right into Jenna’s personal space and then shrug off the lack of electricity, just like she’d done. She turned back up the stairs and continued to climb, only to stop once again as Jenna’s words jumped back out at her. ‘It’s because I like you. She feels put out.’ Susan thought back to Amber’s slight cattiness, which she had naturally attributed to the numerous Jägerbombs and beers. Not for a moment did she believe the assertive, funky ski guide could possibly view her as a threat.

  “Mon amie, here you are.”

  Susan jumped, startled by the shadow of Marcus at the top of the stairs. “You scared me. What are you doing loitering around up there?”

  “I’ve been listening out for you.”

  Susan pulled on the banister and finally reached her summit. “I’m tired, Marcus. I’m going to bed.”

  Marcus flattened his red striped pyjama top. “No, I need a word. Are you able to pop into my room for a moment?”

  Susan pulled herself level with him, instantly smelling the red wine on his breath. She stepped closer, waiting for the feelings she’d experienced downstairs with Jenna. Nothing happened, so she stepped even closer.

  “Susan?”

  Susan stood still, waiting for the tingles, the quick breaths, and the racing heart. Nothing happened so she stepped backwards and shrugged. “I’m not coming into your room.”

  Marcus pulled down on his moustache. “Sorry, the wine’s all gone. I needed a nerve-calmer after the little incident.”

  “What incident?”

  Marcus lowered his voice. “Sorry, but I’d rather we discussed this in my room.” He nodded at the row of doors running down the long corridor. “We wouldn’t want to wake the ladies.”

  “Fi
ne,” said Susan sharply, stepping past him and pushing open his bedroom door. She stopped awkwardly at the end of his bed and turned around. “What is it, Marcus? And please don’t close the door.”

  Marcus left the door slightly ajar and lifted a hand to his chin, pulling down on the slightly stubbly orange skin. “Someone knocked on my door earlier.”

  Susan folded her arms. “And?”

  “I was in the shower.”

  Susan shrugged. “And?”

  “Well, I thought it was you, coming to try the wine.”

  “So?” Susan was frowning.

  “So, I thought I’d spice it up a bit.”

  “The wine?”

  Marcus shook his head. “No, the evening.”

  “Why?”

  Marcus stepped forwards and took hold of Susan’s arms. “Oh, Susan, I just wanted to show you what I’m offering. I just wanted you to see me in a different light.”

  Susan decided to go with Marcus’s intensity, hoping she’d burst into life at the close contact. She looked into his eyes, noticing that they too had slight orange tinge to them. “What light, Marcus?”

  “A more adventurous, free-spirited light.”

  Susan didn’t know how much more she could stomach. The only sensation coursing through her body was one of revulsion. She stepped backwards, freeing herself from the unpleasantness. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I was naked. Wet from the shower. Hair slicked back.”

  “And someone knocked on the door?”

  Marcus nodded anxiously.

  “So what did you do?”

  Marcus bit on his bottom lip. “I sat in that wicker chair, splayed my legs, and told you to come in.”

  “But it wasn’t me.”

  Marcus was now frantically rubbing his moustache. “I know. I know. It was Daisy Button. I told her to come in. She saw me. She saw everything.”

  “What?” Susan was aghast.

  “I fell off the chair and onto the floor and I tried to crawl for the hand towel that I’d thrown to the other side of the room, but I slipped…”

  “Why did you throw your hand towel to the other side of the room?”

  Marcus stepped back into Susan’s personal space. “Because I thought it was you, mon amie. I wanted to be a devil and I was hoping you’d see my pitchfork and be my deviless.”