‘Get in here and taste this, Janie!’ called Sally. ‘I reckon we could live on shepherd’s pie and Chardonnay all week!’
Janie glided into the kitchen, and Sally whistled.
‘I told you it would suit you better than me. You look like a princess. You even hold yourself better when you’re wearing that.’
Janie flicked her hair over her shoulder like a Hollywood starlet and blew Sally a kiss. Then the two of them bent over the bubbling, meaty mixture on the Aga.
‘This reminds me of Paris,’ said Sally, slurping on her wooden spoon. ‘Jonathan and I went to this restaurant one evening, and they invited us into the kitchens. He knew the chef, or something.’
‘A friend of Mastov, perhaps?’
‘Very likely. My God, very likely. That Mastov has fingers in all sorts of pies. As I’ve already discovered.’
They laughed, and Janie watched while Sally mashed the potatoes.
‘We ate so much in Paris, but the food and wine was so good it just made me feel full and horny, rather than full and bloated. It’s no wonder we had to shag at least three times a night.’
‘Don’t make out you’re suddenly some sort of gourmet,’ objected Janie, helping to fork the buttery mash over the meat. ‘It was just his incredibly long dick that kept you at it, you said.’
‘How do you open these old-fashioned oven doors, then?’
Again they bent over in front of the Aga, Janie holding the heavy door open while Sally heaved the enormous pie dish inside. Warm air wafted out of the oven at the same time as cold air whistled over their backsides.
‘Two Thin Ladies. I like it.’
Sally cursed as she slammed her finger in the door. Janie knocked her head against a cupboard as she straightened, leaving a dash of white undercoat on her hair.
A tall, fair man dressed in impeccable tweeds and cashmere was leaning in the doorway, arms folded and looking them both up and down. Suddenly Janie felt quite girlish and awkward.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ exploded Sally, turning on the kitchen tap full blast to run water over her finger. ‘Does no one ever knock around here?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied the visitor calmly, stepping into the kitchen and shutting the wind and rain out. He walked past her and untied the big bow at her back so that her pinafore fell limply down in front of her. ‘Cute butt, as ever. This the new style of television chef? Linguini in lingerie? Knocking it up in knickers?’
It was the first time Janie had ever seen Sally lost for words. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, and then she yanked the pinafore over her head and hurled it to the floor.
‘Just what the fuck –’
‘Language, in front of ladies,’ he said, stopping in front of Janie. ‘You always did have a mouth like a sewer. Now then, let’s remember our manners. Good morning.’
He took Janie’s hand, twirled her round once, then kissed her fingers, watching her all the time with navy-blue eyes. Janie couldn’t see past his shoulder, but she could hear Sally making rude puking noises. The man just smiled, still holding Janie’s eyes, and he waltzed her slowly backwards into the sitting room. The silk floated round her legs and, although she couldn’t dance like Sally, her body felt fluid as she moved. He twirled her round again, and her arms flew out as she spun.
‘I didn’t think you’d leave those mean streets totally of your own accord, Sally. Now I see how you were persuaded to come out to the country, to the back of beyond,’ he called out, lowering Janie down on the sofa and walking over to the CD player. ‘And now I’ve seen your delectable friend, it’s no wonder you never brought her to meet the lads in the City.’
‘She wouldn’t want to come to the City to meet odious creeps like you. I wouldn’t want her breathing the same air.’
Janie had seen Sally riled, but never like this. She was motionless with fury, her fists clenched by her sides, her small face tight with loathing.
‘But your friend – sorry, your name?’
‘Er, Jane. Janie.’
‘Jane, you look as if you could perfectly well choose which air you breathe, without Sally’s protection. She’s just a little upset, that’s all.’
Sally sprang at him then, unable to contain herself. She literally wrapped her fingers and nails round his neck, her bare legs round his middle, and hung onto him. Janie jumped back. Sally was drawing blood from the man’s cheek.
‘Sally, what’s going on? You two know each other?’
The man laughed, a deep, cold laugh, and unpeeled Sally’s frantic limbs from around his ribs. He tossed her easily over to the other armchair, where she landed on all fours like a cat.
‘The devil. We were talking of the devil,’ spat Sally, brushing her hair off her face. ‘And he’s appeared. How did you know I was hiding in this cottage?’
‘This is Jonathan Dart? The man from Paris? The bastard who shafted you?’
They didn’t answer her. They were now too busy circling one another. Or rather, Sally was stepping round him as if he might scorch her.
‘Maddock told me where you were. We got talking in the pub last night. He told me all about it, in fact. I knew, from his description of what this floozy was doing with a paintbrush, that it was my Sally. Nothing’s secret, or sacred, around here. Although I didn’t recognise the description of the “posh bitch” who was here with you. I gather you give great head, Jane.’
‘What paintbrush?’ asked Janie, glancing round at her decorating stuff.
‘You’ll have to show her. Cracking stuff, apparently, so Maddock told me.’ Jonathan winked at Sally, and she raised her fists again.
‘You two must have business to sort out,’ Janie muttered, standing up and elbowing her way round Jonathan, who had barely shifted his position in front of her, despite the attack from Sally. He caught hold of one of Janie’s wrists.
‘Business can wait. It can always wait, can’t it, Sally? I’ve seen something I’d far rather explore.’
‘You can keep your hands off Janie for a start!’ screamed Sally, launching herself at him again.
‘Hello? Anybody there? I was just looking for – whoa, cowboys, what’s going on in here?’
As Jonathan lurched sideways, Janie saw her farmer entering the room, pushing his glasses up his nose and tipping his cap back on his head. Her stomach lurched and she kneeled up on the sofa where she’d fallen in the scuffle. She found it was impossible not to move seductively in the negligee, and already Jonathan’s dubious attention had flattered her into life.
‘It’s you!’ she breathed, at a loss for anything else to say, and Jonathan and Sally both stopped fighting. Sally dropped off his shoulders like a discarded wrap, and skidded across the room. The two men looked huge, and she looked tiny.
‘It’s like bloody Piccadilly Circus here today!’ she cried, delighted. She pulled on the farmer’s sleeve, and he came to stand by the fire. ‘Come in, come in. Just in time to interrupt actual bloodshed. Perhaps you could get rid of this reprobate for us. He’s not welcome.’
‘It didn’t look like that to me,’ the farmer remarked, taking off his glasses to polish off the steam. ‘Looked like you were all getting on famously. What’s going on, Jonathan?’
‘Nothing, Jack, all under control. Did you know you had wildcats for neighbours?’
Janie and Sally gaped stupidly round. The aroma of shepherd’s pie began to permeate the room, and somebody’s stomach rumbled. Both the men started to laugh.
‘Do you mind if I find my way round your drinks cabinet?’ the farmer asked Sally. Janie fumed. It wasn’t Sally’s drinks cabinet. ‘I think we all need to start again.’
‘Well, I’d be very glad to start again,’ Sally said loudly, leading him into the kitchen to find some wine. ‘Just not with Mr Dart, here. Can you get rid of him for me? I swore I’d kill him last time I saw him.’
‘Not my place to get into your argument. In any case, I couldn’t possibly chuck him out of here. For one thing, it’s not my house. And for
another, it turns out we both own properties close by, which makes us neighbours. Life in the country is known for its hospitality. I’m sure your friend told you all about that when she came back with the logs last night?’
‘Do you know, she didn’t say a word when she came back with the logs. Why? Did you bump into each other last night? What happened?’
He started to reply, but they must have moved to the other end of the kitchen, because now Janie could barely hear what they were saying, and, anyway, Jonathan was sitting beside her on the sofa and looking at her again with those unwavering eyes. He placed a hand on her thigh.
‘Do you mind? I adore the feel of expensive fabric.’
The silk wrinkled up her leg, ruffling over her fine hairs, and she caught her breath.
‘You know him?’ asked Janie. ‘The farmer?’
‘In the end everyone gets to know everyone else around here, even us weekenders.’
‘That’s just what he was saying.’
‘That’s Jack. He’s just bought the farm over the way.’
Janie tried to crane past him to look into the kitchen and hear what they were saying in there, but she could only hear muffled voices and then the familiar sound of Sally’s throaty chuckle. She might as well have had a megaphone to tell the world, I’m on the pull here.
‘Let her get on with it. He’ll have trouble resisting if she’s got the throttle out, believe me. But she’ll be crawling back in a minute. Did you hear what I just said?’
‘Yes, you said Jack. Ben’s friend, Jack? Ugly Jack? Jack from my childhood?’
‘Could be. He was saying he used to play around here as a kid. Said he’d bumped into an old friend just yesterday. Was that you?’
For some reason Janie’s eyes welled up. The pictures jerked across her mind’s eye like an old cine film. Not the wigwam fantasies, although she could ‘Jack’ those up easily enough, but the real pictures: the grubby boys and the irritating little girl always trying to join in.
‘Pushed you around, did they, as kids?’
She turned her eyes on Jonathan. He was too smooth and sophisticated for Janie’s taste, and had seriously damaged Sally’s prospects, but he had a way about him that was hypnotising. She understood how he had got through Sally’s defences. He seemed to be looking right into Janie’s mind; perhaps it wasn’t so difficult, particularly if Jack had already told him all about their escapades as kids, and their adventure in the hay barn, but to have five minutes of this man’s total attention was mesmerising.
She heard a scuffle and a cough in the kitchen and, as her eyes darted sideways to see what was going on, Jonathan caught her chin in his hand and kept her face in front of him.
‘Little boys are all the same. That’s how I know. They can be smelly and horrible, especially to little girls.’
‘He said he knew me, when I met him yesterday. But I didn’t recognise him. I thought it was just a line.’
‘If I’d spent my childhood climbing up trees and scampering across cornfields with someone like you, I wouldn’t forget, either. So he’s not such an idiot.’
Jonathan’s fingers were gentle on her face, and Janie couldn’t turn away. She shifted on her legs, and it brought her closer to him. The silk of the negligee moved across her skin, echoing his fingers, and rustled. He heard it, too, because the hand that was on her thigh tightened, and moved slowly upwards, taking the material with it, up towards her hip and baring more and more of her leg.
There was silence from the kitchen now. Despite the warmth that was stealing through her under this man’s fingers, Janie wanted to know what they were doing. She didn’t want Sally getting her paws on Jack. She heard the kitchen table leg scrape on the flagstones, and the sound of a wine bottle being put down on the counter.
‘She’s playing a game to annoy us both,’ Jonathan hissed, again reading Janie’s mind. ‘Both of them want both of us but, you see, their plan is about to backfire.’
Janie relaxed a little, and turned back to him. While he had been speaking the silk had rustled all the way up and over her hip, leaving it pale and gleaming in the dull wet light. He left the material draped there, and let his hand wander further on, underneath it, over her warm stomach, across to the other hip, then back to her stomach, where it paused. Janie tensed, staring at his face but seeing, from the corner of her eye, his hand spread across her hidden skin. She arched away from him slightly and, as one breast brushed against his cashmere sleeve, her nipples sparked into life.
‘That’s more like it,’ he said. ‘You may look like some uptight princess, but you’re hot, aren’t you? A little like Sally, but you keep it well hidden.’
As if in answer the kitchen door swung shut, either kicked that way or blown by the draught from the back door. Now they were completely separated from the other two.
Janie didn’t want to think of Sally’s little tits pressing against her farmer; pressing against Jack. He was Janie’s Jack. She’d seen him first. She wanted him to fuck her again. She didn’t want him entering that soft golden bush and groaning over Sally’s triumphant little body.
‘She doesn’t want me to have you, either, you know, but we’re going to teach her a lesson. It’s not why I came here this morning, but it’ll work just as well to bring her to heel.’
‘What do you mean?’ Janie had one ear cocked towards the kitchen while his words purred into the other ear.
‘I mean they’ll be more interested in us once they see how well we’re getting on without them.’
‘We should just use each other, you mean?’
His even features opened into a smile and, although Janie could see it was the smile of a man used to getting his own way, her own mouth started to curve up in comprehension. She liked the sound of her own voice, saying something so calculating, cynical, almost. She was learning to play this game. Learning either to pretend to be someone else, or learning to let loose the cooler Janie lurking just beneath the surface.
‘Honey –’ he chuckled ‘– tell me, is this really such a chore?’
All the while his fingers had never stopped swiping and stroking across her hips and stomach, never going higher or lower. That entire area of her skin was alive and singing with his touch, and warm, as if it was accustomed to this attention. Her body relaxed, folding into itself, but her mind still kept darting through that kitchen door.
‘Don’t look so anxious,’ urged Jonathan. ‘Can’t have that kind of tension when I’m around.’
No wonder he’d gotten inside Sally’s knickers quicker than you could say ‘elastic’. He was like one of those horse whisperers. A woman whisperer. He got them where he wanted them. But she wouldn’t wait around for the nasty side of him. She just needed him for this moment, to transport her away from the image of Sally wriggling up to Jack, teasing or even mocking him into submission, seducing him so that he had no choice but to ram up inside her.
‘What are they doing in there?’ asked Janie.
There was definitely something, a groan or a sigh, and they both heard Sally’s high giggle – the one that signalled she was in for the kill.
‘Not making apple pie, that’s for sure,’ remarked Jonathan.
Janie frowned, turning her face this way and that, but Jonathan just kept on watching her, and surreptitiously pulled the silk garment up her body so that more and more of her became visible.
‘She’ll have her tongue down his throat by now,’ Jonathan crooned. ‘She’s not always known for her subtlety.’
Janie’s lips parted in dismay, but he prevented her from speaking by brushing his dry lips across her mouth; not exactly kissing her, but leaving his taste on her lips to silence her, and it worked. He had an expensive, sharp smell about him that spiked the air around them both. Janie closed her eyes, and tried to persuade herself that it was just the two of them on the sofa, just the two of them in the cottage.
‘He’ll be making a feeble attempt to push her away, get back in here, but he’ll be getting hard,
despite his desire for you. She’s very skilled at that.’
Jonathan dropped his hand from Janie’s face and brought it to her hip, so that now he had both her hips cradled in his hands. Despite her jealousy Janie’s own body couldn’t help responding to the constant sweeping of his fingertips. That fidgety warmth that she had felt yesterday, listening to Sally’s story, was back in earnest, the little muscles around her fanny tightening involuntarily and a definite moisture slicking from inside her.
‘And she’ll be unable to wait for long, once she’s turned on. She’ll be creaming herself by now, I expect, especially knowing that we’re next door, that we could barge in at any moment. She’ll be rubbing herself up against him. He may be resisting still, but it won’t work. She’ll see that he’s a bit of a gentleman, a bit shy, not like me, and she’ll make him touch her, feel her wetness through those French knickers, which, incidentally, I bought for her in Paris.’
‘What a naughty thought!’ gasped Janie, biting her lip and shifting on the sofa without realising what she was doing. ‘Wearing a gift from you while she’s making out with him.’
‘Honey, you’re getting the idea. A quick learner.’
‘And this negligee is not mine. It’s something she was given –’ Janie couldn’t resist adding her own little piece of spite ‘– by another man, last weekend.’
‘Really?’ It was Jonathan’s turn to be put out, but only briefly. He smiled again. ‘Better and better, though I can’t imagine her wearing it. While you look as if you were born to drift about wearing white gossamer.’
Just then one of the kitchen chairs fell over with a crash. There was an exclamation from one of them, followed by the heavy double thump of bodies falling onto a wooden surface.
‘Didn’t take them long, did it? She’ll have just removed that lovely underwear. Perhaps she’ll be fingering herself; men like to see that. She won’t be able to wait, though, and nor will he, not once that cute bush of hers is on display. Any man with red blood in his veins would be unable to resist her powers of persuasion, and she’s on a mission this morning.’
Country Pleasures Page 11
