'I've slept with Harry.'
George hisses a breath on the phone. I've winded him I can tell. Admittedly it's heartless for me to just blurt it out, but I want a reaction and I've got one.
'What happened to playing by the rules?' he asks.
'Well, I wanted to make sure that I won, so I changed them and you'd be interested to know that it worked. When I get back he's starting to divorce proceedings. He's leaving her for me.'
'Don't count your chickens yet Leigh. Saying and doing it are two different things. I did give you six months. Don't rush it remember he's got to love you.'
'I believe he does,' I answer.
'Well, if he does then the money will be in your account and it's over.'
'And what about us?' I ask.
'Leigh, one fight isn't going to make me feel any different about you and I'm an arsehole.'
I smile as I offer forgiveness. At least we're alright. This game is nearly over and then we can get back to normality.
'Shall I drive down?' he asks.
I find myself starting to say yes, but then I stop.
'You know what no,' I say. 'I just want the weekend with by myself. Give me time.'
George sighs on the end of the phone and I'm hoping he will respect me enough to leave it.
'Okay. Tell your mum hi from me.'
I breathe out a sigh of relief. 'I will.'
To celebrate my homecoming, my mum cooks a weekday roast. It smells divine as she dishes it out. My mums cooking is the reason I love coming home and it's something I never inherited from her. I am just not that domesticated. If it goes in the oven or microwave then I'm fed.
I whine as my mum takes a full plate upstairs to my brother, but I only get a rolling of eyes from my dad. Sam is the baby and gets treated as such and it winds me up every time. But at least I get my parents all to myself while we eat and I take advantage, telling them all about my work.
'And what about you and George? Are you still friends?' my mum asks.
'Of course we are still friends. Why would you ask?'
'You know what I mean. He's a nice boy from a good family, you could do worse. Or is there someone else.'
'Mum, please don't do this again,' I whine. 'I am free and single and I wouldn't care if George was the heir to the throne me and him are not happening.'
'There's no need for that tone,' she chastises. 'I just want to see you settled. I was married with you and brother by the time I was your age.'
'Anne, leave her alone. She's just got different plans for herself,' my dad steps in.
My dad gives me a grin and my mum shakes her head at us both.
'Is it a crime to want the best for my daughter,' she says.
'No, but it is to nag her death,' I joke.
Now she smiles and the atmosphere lightens. It's always the same argument with us both. I know what she's after. Now Sam and I are grown up, she wants grandchildren and I know she's pictured those gorgeous grandchildren fathered by George. But it's not going to happen. For one, I am none too keen with being saddled with kids at my age. I just about cope well with them at work.
After dinner, I curl up on the sofa watching the Soaps, something I only ever do when I'm home. I have no idea what I'm watching, but it holds my attention for a short while. My dad is reading a paper and for once we're alone. These times with my dad always makes me feel safe and secure. I am very much like him in many ways. Easy going and dependable. Well that was until I got myself entangled in this game.
'So are you going to tell me what's really going on?' my dad asks.
The paper rests on his knee as he looks at me. I swallow hard the problem with being just like my dad is that he can always read me.
'Nothing is going on?' I answer.
'Leigh-Anne, you've not been home since Christmas. Is it George?'
'Why do you think George has anything to do with anything? Can't I just come home some time?'
'You are deflecting. You know you can talk to me.'
I get up and crawl on my dad's lap and hug him. Unlike my mum he's very aware and suspicious of George. In his mind George is too much of a smart arse who doesn't need to work. But then I am my dad's princess and any guy would never be good enough. I wonder briefly how he'd feel if he knew I was carrying on with a man near his own age. Flip his lid no doubt.
'I love you so much,' I say.
'Ditto,' he laughs. 'Now get off my knee and let me read this paper.'
My mum walks in as we finish laughing, carrying mugs of coffee. She gives us a suspicious look, but doesn't ask any questions. Always a Daddy's Girl and that is not going to change.
Slipping in my old bed feels so good as I sink beneath the freshly laundered duvet cover. The walls are still covered with my old posters of rock bands and movie stars. That was a lifetime ago and it already feels like I've changed. This thing is changing me. But then what sort of woman goes into this anyway. I am asking for trouble. Me and my ego. Just as my eyes start to close my phone beeps.
'Missing you already. Enjoy the break and don't forget me. Yours H x'
'I could never forget. Always Mine. L X'
I fall asleep with a smug smile on my face. The rest is just a formality. He's as good as mine and this six month thing is ridiculous. There's no time limit on love and if he does love me then he will be mine.
'But he can't keep you,' George reminds me in my head.
'If he leaves his wife then who says he can't,' I smirk as I drift on to sleep.
The following morning I'm woken abruptly by Eminem playing at an obscene level. Getting up, I bang on Sam's bedroom door.
'Hey, jerk off some of us are trying to sleep.'
The door is thrown open and there looking like some badly dressed gangsta rapper is my seventeen year old brother. There's faint smell of weed and body sweat coming from his room and I roll my eyes. His shaved head gives him a brutish look, but he's also very scrawny and couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, although he's like to think he's as hard as nails.
'Why don't you go back where you came from bitch,' he snarls.
'I am back where I came from dick,' I throw back.
Slamming the door in my face, the music is turned up louder and giving in I decide I may as well get up. My parents are out which explains the obscene level of my brother's music. I grab some breakfast and my phone starts to ring. The number is withheld and for a moment I consider ignoring it, but changing my mind I press the answer.
'Hello?'
'Hi,' comes the coy reply.
Grinning, I go to the living room and curl up on the sofa.
'What's with the withheld number?' I ask.
Harry laughs. 'I'm just being careful. I'm using another phone.'
'Oh,' disappointment fills my voice.
All what George said about counting my chickens seems to be founded. He does just want to keep me as his mistress. The girl he can fuck whenever he likes and still be able to go home.
'What I said still stands,' Harry says. 'I've just got to be careful, you understand that don't you?'
'Yes,' I manage to say. 'You shouldn't ring then. That would be safer.'
'Don't be like that. I've missed you.'
'I've only been gone one night.'
'One night too long. Did I wake you?'
'No I was up,' I answer.
'So all showered and dressed?'
The question brings a smirk to my face.
'Not yet, why?'
'Are you alone,' he asks.
Eminem is still playing loudly above me.
'Sort of.'
'Tell me what you're wearing.'
I look down at my fleece onesie and smirk. Not really sexy, but what he doesn't know won't hurt.
'I am wearing shorts and a vest. Very tight and very skimpy.'
I hear him take a breath.
'I'm in my office right now and what I wouldn't give to see you sprawled on my desk.'
'Would you prefer sir or professor?' I ask
.
'I think sir would do nicely. Not that you'd be able to speak once I'd finished with you.'
'You talk the talk sir,' I tease.
Mindlessly my hand circles my breast as I thumb my nipple and I find that I've sunk down upon the sofa.
'You know full well I can walk the walk,' he chuckles huskily. 'If you were here right now, I'd make you sit on my desk all open and ready for me. I'd then take off you panties and kiss and lick you until you were wet on my tongue.'
Unzipping the onesie, I start to stroke and probe myself. Groaning out, I hear Harry on the phone say my name in a breathy whisper.
'Are you touching yourself?' he barely croaks.
'Yes,' I breathe. 'Tell me more. I want more.'
'Tell me what you feel like first,' he breathes.
'I'm so wet and hot and it's all for you. Tell me what you're going to do to me.'
'I would make you orgasm in my mouth. Then while you're still hot and wet, I would sink my long hard cock inside you. Feel all your insides clenching and taking me. All of me.'
With both feet on the floor I am riding my fingers gently. I find I am matching Eminem's rapping rhythm from the music upstairs and the mere fact that I could be caught having phone sex in my parents living room drives me harder.
'More,' I manage to say.
I hear Harry's staggered heavy breathing and I can tell his suppressing his own sexual groans. Both of us in places where we could get caught.
'While sliding in and out so slowly I would suckle each breast, flicking your nipples with my tongue until you beg me...'
'Beg you to what?'
'To fuck you hard.'
'Then do it. Turn me over Harry, bend me over your desk and fuck me.'
'God I so want to,' he groans through gritted teeth. 'God help me Leigh, I want to fuck you right now.'
'Do me and do me hard,' I groan, my fingers working frantically.
'Leigh...sweetheart...'
I can hear that his motions are becoming frantic and I can imagine how thick and pulsating he must be in his own hands. How it felt inside me as he fucked me against Clair's desk.
'I'm coming for you,' I barely manage to croak. 'I'm going to explode all around you.'
'The let me have it Leigh-Anne.'
Reaching my peak, I cry out Harry's name and just as I hear my own as the phone drops onto the sofa. A moment later I hear my name again from the speaker and zipping myself, I pick it up.
'Are you OK?' he asks.
'I would prefer to do it for real,' I say.
'Maybe it can be arranged,' he chuckles. 'You know I've never done that before.'
'Neither have I,' I lie.
He doesn't need to know all my sexual encounters. If it's his first then it's mine too. My experience could put him off. But at the moment he's phoned me after just one night away. He's wrapped around my little finger.
'I need to go and clean myself up,' he says finally. 'Damn meetings. I wish I was there with you. When are you coming back?'
'Tomorrow,' I answer.
'I want to meet you,' he demands.
'I'll call when I get back.'
'Make sure you use this number,' he insists.
Again that uneasy feeling, but I've got to bury it.
'I will I promise.'
As I put the phone down the music suddenly goes dead and the front door crashes open as my parents bustle in. Talk about good timing. Getting up, I make my way to the kitchen where my mother is unpacking the weekend shop. Going to the sink, I wash my hands, before I offer help.
'Are you ok honey,' she says scrutinizing me.
'Yeah why?'
'You just look a little flush, maybe you're coming down with something.'
'I'm fine, I just slept far too well,' I lie.
'Are you sure?'
'Just leave the poor girl alone,' my dad mutters. 'If she says she's fine then let it be.'
I mouth a thank you to my dad who gives me a grin and a wink. Leaving them to it, I bound my way upstairs and into my room. It is then I catch a glimpse of my grin in the mirror. I am excited to be going back home, seeing Harry again.
Oh shit. This isn't good. I shouldn't be excited. Going to the mirror, I stare hard at myself. Sparkly eyed and excited flush. This isn't just post orgasm this is turning into something else. Something deeper.
'No' I snap at myself. 'Leigh-Anne Boorman, No, don't even go there.'
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Getting back to my own four walls was a welcome relief and I’ve missed calls from both Harry and George. I want them both to wait for me and I need to take control of the situation with Harry. If I see him straight away then I will fall under the spell that I'm trying to weave. Time away will make his lust hotter and the heart fonder I'm sure. But it will also give me time to cool down any feelings that are starting to emerge.
By late afternoon, after packing my stuff away, I am enjoying the peace and time to myself when a knock comes at the door. To my surprise it's Clair on my doorstep.
'Can we talk?'
I step aside as she enters my flat. She looks anxious and upset. She is such a controlled person in everything, but the woman standing in my flat is far from it. Not even a spot of make-up on. As for her clothes. It's as though she's picked up the first item of clothing she could find and thrown it on. This, the same Clair who wears designer no matter what day of the week it is.
'You okay?' I ask.
'I just want to talk to you about George and me,' she says.
'You know you're both free agents. Go for it. You don't need my permission,' I say.
She slumps down on the sofa and I see she's fighting tears.
'It's just sex, that's all he keeps saying,' she mutters.
And there it is. The reason for the loss of control, because that's what George does. He takes it from you and claims it as his own.
'And you want more?'
She nods her head and now tears are falling down her cheeks. Admittedly, I’m a little surprised that she's fallen for George and I wonder how he's managed to work her round to his way. But then wasn't I doing the same thing. Doing something in order to please George.
'Then stop seeing him,' I say. 'Or give him an ultimatum.'
'You make it sound so simple,' she answers.
'Well it is really.'
'Is that what you do?' she asks.
She gives me a strange look. An unsettling look.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean is that how you keep Harry Cobain interested?'
I’m sure shock registers on my face.
'I'm not sure...'
'Come on Leigh. Don't even try and lie about it. It's me.'
'I suppose there's a lot to be said for pillow talk,' I snap defensively.
'I told you not to do this.'
'Are we talking about me or whether you've fallen in love with my best friend that you're screwing?'
'I don't need to tell you that he loves you,' she says.
My initial anger subsides as I sit down beside her.
'I know he does, but I don't love him. You know this. I'm no threat.'
'I can't believe we are arguing over men,' she laughs after a moment.
'George has always been a dick. He may be my best friend, but just be careful Clair.'
'The same goes for you. This thing he's got you into is not going to have a happy ending,' she warns.
'I have it fully under control,' I say.
'Really, because when I saw you both together in the studio, you didn't look like a woman playing along.
'What did I look like?' I ask.
'Like a woman who is infatuated. He's a very good looking man and I get it, but now you look like a woman in love and that's a different fire to play with.'
I would be lying if I said that Clair's words haven't got to me a little. She's of course wrong. I admit that I lust after Harry, but to love him is just over the top. We have a sexual connection, but I could never love him. Apa
rt from the sex, he is not really my type. I could walk away from him anytime I wanted. In fact, by ignoring his messages is proof that I am still the puppet master in this.
'I'm not in love, Clair,' I say firmly.
'I hope you prove me wrong.'
Once Clair leaves I carry on trying to get myself ready for the week ahead. I have so much work to catch up. Emails to answer, invoices to post. It seems leaving Clair in the state she’s in wasn't a good idea. Soon, I find my phone with a message waiting for me.
'Are you home? Missing you. Yours H x.'
I put the put phone down and ignore it. I should leave it for tonight. But an hour later the message is resent and I can't resist any longer. I hate saying this, but I miss him and I need his contact. It's like being away from the sun too long. You crave it.
'I am,' I answer. 'I've had stuff to catch up.'
No sooner has it gone then the phone rings.
'I'm still at work,' Harry says.
'All work and no play,' I answer.
'Exactly, so do you want to play?'
I smile at his question and give my answer. If he only he knew that the game has already begun with him at its centre. With a promise that I will be there in an hour I begin my preparation. If he wants a fantasy then I was going to give it to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
I check myself over as I stand outside his office door. Dressed in a short pleated tartan skirt and white blouse, I've gone for the good old punky school girl. Considering where he's waiting it seems apt. Plus, it would serve as a reminder of his own youth.
My walk up to the uni and then the walk has been a nerve wracking one. Making sure I'm not noticed by anyone that knows George and also the corridors on a night are as spooky as hell. But soon I am Harry's door and raising a hand, I knock.
'Come in.'
Putting on my best coy face, I drop my coat on his secretary's desk and enter the office of a Dean. I try and hide my awe at its size and grandeur. There is smell of polished leather, malt whiskey and old books. The walls are filled with bookshelves, with titles I hardly recognise. Finally my gaze lands on Harry, sitting behind his desk.
Wearing a smart dark brown blazer, tie and shirt, he's the image of power. I feel warmth run through me as our eyes meet. Blue against brown. Clashing and consuming the other. My hands are clasped behind my back as I lower my eyes to the floor. Waiting patiently for his command. Just like a good student.
The Boleyn Effect (The Boleyn Ending) Page 12
