Chalet Girls

by Lorraine Wilson

  Thomas guides me upstairs and we step out onto the terrace, the cold night air assaulting us. I shiver. My fantasy of a man who’ll take care of me and defend me against the monsters under my bed seems really foolish. Am I doing the right thing?

  ‘Shall we go back to my place?’ He pulls me closer.

  ‘Sure, why not?’ I smile, my heart hammering. So Thomas probably isn’t going to be the guy who sticks around to help me slay monsters, but at least tonight I won’t be alone in bed and that might keep the nightmares away for a while.

  On the short walk back to Thomas’s flat he doesn’t bother to get to know me, but that’s fine by me. I will my body to respond to him when he gropes me in his apartment block’s lift, but I only feel numb as he runs his hands over my breasts, kneading them like they’re dough, tweaking my nipples so they hurt. And not in a good way.

  A shiver of fear runs down my spine. I ignore it. I‘ve got to get back to normal. I need this. I give him the benefit of the doubt and try to kiss him back with enthusiasm. I‘ve committed to this and I‘ll see it through. Like an experiment. As we enter his flat my fragile desire ebbs away and I‘m starting to think I‘ve chosen the wrong man to experiment with. The surroundings are cramped and bare. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the place needs a good vacuum. This is nothing like I imagined; it doesn‘t match Thomas‘s charming veneer. A veneer that‘s showing a good few cracks now he‘s confident of getting into my pants.

  A detachment creeps over me, a disconnected sensation that leaves me stone cold. Is it too late to change my mind?

  Before I can speak he pulls my dress up to my waist and is tugging my knickers down with one hand and undoing his flies with the other. Before I know it he‘s nudging between my legs without even bothering to warm me up.

  ‘Condom,’ I gasp and try to pull away, but his fingers are digging into my upper arms, gripping in a way I know will leave bruises.

  The forceful grip triggers a first flicker of real panic.

  ‘Oh, for fuck‘s sake.’ His handsome face clouds with irritation.

  It‘s the irritation that does it.

  ‘We need to use a condom,’ I repeat, resisting the urge to flinch, fuelled by anger that he‘s trying to make me feel unreasonable in asking for basic protection. I stare round at the grubby flat and realise he‘s making me feel grubby too. ‘Tell you what, let‘s not bother, if it‘s that much of a problem to you.’

  His cold, blue eyes glint maliciously and the grip on my arm tightens.

  Rage surges up in me so ferocious it practically chokes me. Never again.

  Never again.

  Even if I have to fight with tooth and nail and every trick in my arsenal, I‘m not going to let another man hurt me without fighting back. The rage gives me strength to wrench out of his grasp and pull my knickers back up.

  He follows me down the hallway as I make my escape. I can feel him behind me, his breath on my neck.

  I spin around and confront him.

  ‘Don‘t you dare.’ I hiss the words, one hand on my hip, the other pointing towards his chest. Rage still surges through me, spewing molten lava.

  Giving me strength.

  ‘You‘re a frigid bitch and you know what else you are?’ His upper lip curls.

  ‘I really don‘t give a flying fuck what you think of me.’ I barely recognise my own voice. My legs are trembling and I can feel the sweat trickling down my back. ‘But take one step further and I‘ll call the police. I‘m sure you‘ve left bruises on me they’d be very interested in seeing.’

  The red marks on my arms sting. For once I‘m glad I bruise easily.

  That halts him in his tracks but doesn‘t stop the stream of filth coming out of his mouth. I slam his front door on the words, trying to block my ears as I make my way down the stairs as fast as my shaky legs allow.

  Soon I‘m walking through the snow, wondering if tears can freeze on your face. It certainly feels cold enough. I stick to the darker side of the street, wanting to skulk in the shadows. Hoping to disappear into a giant black hole.

  ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,’ I whisper. This wasn‘t part of the plan at all. Am I so desperate for physical affection I‘m prepared to put myself through this?

  God, I don‘t think I even want to know the answer to that.

  I force myself to take a deep breath and focus. So, tonight was crap. But I have to put it behind me. I‘ve coped with far worse than this. Men much crueler than Thomas have tried to crush me and didn‘t succeed. I won‘t let them.

  I always promised myself if something like this ever happened again I‘d fight back, no matter what. My trembling fingers itch to ring Eva but she‘ll tell me to come back home. I can‘t do that, it‘s too awkward to be at Eva‘s and, anyway, I can‘t bear to be in London right now.

  I pause and squeeze my eyes shut so tightly I see stars. I have to get my emotions under control before I get back to Chalet Repos. You‘d think sharing a bunk room with three other girls would mean I felt less alone but it seems to highlight my isolation. I feel more trapped in my head than ever, without someone who gets me and knows how to draw me out.

  They all know each other; I‘m the only newbie. It doesn‘t help that I‘m so used to holding things back I struggle to connect with other people in a way that means anything. I‘m worried they think I‘m aloof and snobbish. I hope they don‘t. Maybe they could become friends in time if I really make an effort.

  I brush tears away from my cold cheeks. I‘m fine. I‘m absolutely, totally fine and my plan is going to work. I‘ll bloody well make it work.

  From: debbie.johnson@gmail.com

  To: beth.chapman@yahoo.com

  Subject: Having fun?

  Hi Beth,

  Long time no hear! Let me have all your news, please. Apart from the photos you posted online when you first arrived you’ve given me nothing.

  I really miss you. Mum misses you too and so does Mark. Did I tell you he’s got a new girlfriend? Emma is very bubbly. There’s just this one really annoying thing about her – she has this weird laugh, a bit like an asthmatic seal. But I suppose she’s okay really.

  Have you met any sexy ski instructors yet? Or future husband material?

  I know Mum says what you’re trying to do is anti-feminist, but I get it. If anyone deserves a rich man who wants nothing more than to take care of his wife, it’s you. You so deserve some good luck.

  Give me some decent gossip and I might tell you about the rubbish internet date I went on last Saturday.

  Love, Debbie xxxx

  Chapter 4

  LUCY

  ‘Think you’ll see your crush tonight?’ Tash elbows me as we make our way over to Chalet Amélie for Sophie and Amelia‘s engagement party. Unfortunately there are some parties it‘s impossible to avoid. Not without offending people anyway.

  ‘My crush?’ My cheeks flush, burning with embarrassment. Crap, I am so bad at hiding my feelings. Hopefully the dark will hide my blushes.

  ‘The very tasty Sebastien Laroche, of course, who else?’ Tash teases. ‘Unless you‘ve got something else to confess? Have you got multiple crushes you‘re hiding from me?’

  ‘Huh, as if.’ I snort.

  I’ve got nothing to confess. More’s the pity. I’m starting to wish I had. Not that I dare confide as much in Tash or she’d do her best to set me up with someone utterly unsuitable. I’m just not wired for casual relationships. They seem such a waste of time. I want to hold out for the right man.

  ‘Sebastien definitely likes you.’ Tash persists, watching me, presumably to gauge the effect of her words. ‘I saw the way he looked at you.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I stare at the ground, at the fresh, powdery snow we’re crunching underfoot. The flare of hope I feel at her words troubles me.

  ‘Oh, I think you know he likes you. You’re afraid of it, that’s all,’ Tash proclaims triumphantly.

  That’s all?

  ‘Hmm. When did you get so perceptive Tash?’
I grimace.

  ‘Ha, I’m right, aren’t I?’ Tash grins.

  I wish she wasn’t.

  ‘I expect he likes a lot of girls. He looks the type.’ I bite my lip. ‘I doubt he’s ever serious.’

  It’s confusing. On the one hand he’s almost definitely unsuitable, but he’s also my snowboarding idol and a free-riding God. Not to mention he’s bloody gorgeous and I’ve not been able to think about anything else but him since the night of the film festival screening. The skin on my hand still tingles when I think about him holding it. I’ve replayed the way he put my hand over his heart and how it made me feel a thousand times. How mad is that? I find it disturbing that a man can have the power to do that to me.

  The gesture was casual and yet at the same time intensely intimate. What does that mean? Probably that Sebastien treats physical intimacy with a casual disregard. So, he’s not right for me.

  Desire and fear race through me, competing for dominance, neck and neck. I don’t know which is going to win.

  ‘Just because he likes women in general it doesn’t mean he can’t like you in particular.’ Tash slips her arm through mine. She’s wearing a short asymmetrical jersey dress with chunky boots and she hasn’t bothered with her coat for the short walk between the chalets. Her trademark cat-like eye shadow makes her stand out from the crowd. She’s cool. Or whatever the cool word is for cool. I don’t even know that.

  I’m dowdy by comparison in my best dark indigo jeans and silky black top. I just don’t do glamorous. I feel most comfortable in my sports gear. When I’m skiing I’m in my element, it’s the only time I feel like I truly fit in.

  ‘Why would he like me, Tash?’ I blurt out. ‘I mean, I’m nothing special.’

  Tash stops dead on the path and turns to me. ‘Are you kidding? What do you mean you’re nothing special? You’re pretty, you’re a fantastic skier and a loyal friend. Also you don’t bullshit people. That’s pretty rare, you know. He’d be lucky to have you. Plus you’re really into the things he loves.’

  I smile and squeeze her arm. ‘Thanks, Tash.’

  I wish I believed it. Growing up with a hyper-critical mother who saw it as her mission in life to make sure I didn’t get ‘above myself’ hasn’t done much for my self-esteem. She once told Dad off for praising me for good test results at school, saying I’d get a big head.

  So, no matter how well I did, how many A grades I got or what team I made at school I never got more than a nod and a criticism that I could’ve done better. I should’ve got an A star or made team captain.

  ‘How long is it since you had sex?’

  Tash’s question catches me off-guard.

  My cheeks flame even hotter. Thank God it’s dark.

  ‘I don’t know exactly,’ I mumble.

  ‘Roughly then?’ Tash is like a terrier with a tuggy-toy. She’s not going to let go of this anytime soon.

  I sigh. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you’ve not hooked up with anyone out here that I know of.’ Tash has stopped on the path again and as we’re arm in arm she jerks me to a stop too. ‘Fuck a duck, you’re never a virgin?’

  The incredulity in her tone stings. I bite my lip and look away.

  ‘Really? I don’t think I know any other virgins.’ Tash seems genuinely astounded. ‘How do you get to your mid-twenties and keep your virginity? Because you’ve had boyfriends, right?’

  ‘Yes but … where I come from it’s very church-orientated.’ I jerk my chin up. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. ‘I used to belong to the church youth group. It was one of the few places my parents would let me go and that’s where I met my boyfriend. There was a lot of fuss made about staying pure for marriage.’

  ‘Really?’ Tash raises her eyebrows. ‘I can’t imagine it, but then I’ve never known anyone religious. At least I don’t think so.’

  She makes it sound like I’m suffering from a rare disease.

  ‘I’m not … well, I used to be, but when I got older I questioned things more. My beliefs are a bit more fluid now. I suppose that’s the best way to describe it,’ I sigh. ‘My boyfriend was more … rigid.’

  ‘I bet he was, all that time without sex.’ Tash laughs.

  I smile and roll my eyes. ‘Well, we did other stuff, you know. Just didn’t go all the way.’

  ‘So, what’s stopping you now?’

  ‘I think if I’ve waited this long I should probably save having sex until it’s perfect. I have to wait for the right man. I kind of fell into my first relationship. I said yes to the first boy who asked me out. Looking back, there was no way he was right for me.’

  ‘But it’s never perfect, Lucy. Life isn’t like that.’ Tash resumes the walk to Chalet Amélie. ‘If you want my advice, you need to get losing your virginity over and done with, preferably with someone you don‘t care about, because the first time is usually crap. If you don‘t sleep with multiple partners, how will you ever really know if you‘re a good match in bed with the guy you ultimately deem ‚perfect‘ to settle down with?’

  ‘Um, I‘m not sure I like that idea. I‘d rather wait for it to feel … right.’ I squirm beside her, half-relieved my secret is out and half-terrified this will be the catalyst for a change I‘m not sure I‘m ready for. But maybe I‘m hiding behind the excuse of waiting for it to be perfect before I commit to having sex. It means I‘ve never had to put myself out there or risk getting hurt. Also I‘ve never had to expose my sexual ignorance to anyone.

  She pulls a face. ‘You might find yourself waiting a long time if you‘re not prepared to compromise at all. Actually, thinking about it, Nate is pretty near perfect but he can still annoy the hell out of me at times. Sometimes you have to adjust what you think you want for what is actually right for you. Or for what‘s right in front of you.’

  Anxiety grips me as we approach Chalet Amélie. Any relief I felt at confessing my secret is overshadowed by fear of ridicule or even ending up the subject of a bet.

  ‘Tash, please don‘t tell anyone.’ My jaw clenches.

  ‘Of course I won‘t.’ Tash squeezes my arm. ‘I do think we should try and get you laid, though.’

  We?

  She lets go of my arm and walks ahead of me into the chalet.

  ‘Tash, no.’ I hurry after her, unease churning in my stomach. I really, really don‘t want to fall prey to one of her schemes, however well-intentioned she might be.

  When I leave the fresh, cold night air and enter the chalet after Tash a wall of warmth hits me. I hope she‘s going to drop the subject now we‘re surrounded by people.

  We find Sophie hiding out on the gallery and have to talk her into rejoining the party. It seems a shame some idiot from her past gets to ruin her engagement party. All the more reason to be very careful who you sleep with and wait for the right person. I head off to find a drink and bump into Rebecca in the crowd.

  ‘So, what were you arguing about with Tash earlier?’ Rebecca raises an eyebrow, clearly a seasonnaire on the scent of a secret. She‘s sipping a Kir Royale. I definitely need one.

  ‘Oh nothing much, it doesn‘t matter. You know what Tash is like.’ I avoid her gaze and look around to find a circulating waiter so I can grab a much-needed champagne cocktail.

  I can‘t believe I kept the secret of my virginity all this time and now it‘s been out five minutes I‘m already struggling to contain it. I might‘ve known it‘d be Tash who‘d winkle it out of me. She‘s too canny by half.

  Will she keep it quiet? I trust her, she‘s a good friend but not great at either keeping her voice down or being subtle. If she makes getting me laid one of her projects, well …

  I reach out for a glass of Kir Royale from the tray of a passing waiter and sip the blackcurrant bubbles with champagne kick, the warmth spreading down into my chest. Mum might think cocktails are the invention of the devil but my family drink whiskey like it‘s a religion, so I don‘t see why cocktails get such a bad rap. It‘s just one of the many things I‘m not allowed to question.
>
  Whenever I questioned anything as a child Mum would say ‚because‘ and her mouth would tighten in a way I learnt to dread. Religion was the main subject off limits, though. I once questioned why God wouldn‘t want me to use the swings in the village playground on a Sunday and Mum and Dad refused to speak to me for days. The worst part was the way they looked at me, as though I was the worst disappointment ever and I‘d been deliberately wicked when really I was just baffled. I‘d just wanted to understand.

  I sigh and swig back more of the cocktail. The girls out here would think I was nuts if I tried to explain the strict Presbyterian culture I grew up in. Tash clearly thinks I‘m some kind of alien or perhaps a cult survivor.

  ‘Salut.’ A voice cuts through my thoughts and I‘m being embraced before I can look up.

  When I do glance up Sebastien‘s large, sensual lips are already on my cheek. He kisses me enthusiastically on both cheeks and then directly on the mouth. I barely have time to register the casual intrusion of his lips and hint of tongue before it‘s withdrawn again.

  ‘Uh, hi.’ I blink. Did that … Is that … Okay, my brain has frozen, speech and thought resolutely refusing to obey me.

  ‘Where did you get to the other night? Come, come.’ He neither waits for, nor seems to expect, an answer but takes me by the hand and leads me away from an open-mouthed Rebecca. His hand is rough and large compared to mine. The contact is startling but by no means unwelcome.

  It doesn‘t occur to me to refuse. Why doesn‘t it occur to me to refuse?

  He draws me into a quiet alcove and pulls me down next to him on a small brown-leather sofa. The sofa is covered with the softest faux-mink throw I‘ve ever touched, it‘s so silky beneath my fingers. There‘s not much room, so I‘m pressed up against him, my thigh making contact with his. I‘m achingly aware of his close proximity and the corresponding flare into life of desire, deep inside me. It‘s like he‘s dropped a match onto a pile of dry kindling.

  I‘ve never felt a desire this compelling before. Going without sex honestly hasn‘t bothered me that much, but then I‘ve never met anyone like Seb before.