The Red Collection

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘What is it, my love?’ he asked. His expression was kind and far more tolerant of her hesitation at this crucial moment than any of her previous lovers would have been.

  ‘Um, well, you’re human now … we need …’

  ‘Protection?’ His eyes twinkled.

  ‘Well, yes. I’m sorry, I mean, I don’t …’

  Robin drew her back into his arms, close and sweet. ‘Don’t worry, sweet Lois.’ His breath was a whisper against her ear, and, as she nuzzled him, she realised that, very faintly, he still smelt of lavender. ‘If you don’t have condoms, there are plenty of other ways to give each other pleasure. I have the imagination of two men now, remember?’

  ‘Well, actually,’ she began bashfully, ‘I was sort of half hoping for a holiday romance when I packed for this trip.’ She pursed her lips. ‘There are some condoms in the bedside drawer.’ She pulled back a little and looked up at him, with a little smirk. ‘Although we can still do some of that other stuff first, can’t we?’

  ‘With pleasure, my love.’ His lips began the process that his hands and his body would soon complete, beginning the journey down her body, tasting lightly and sampling her skin with his tongue. ‘With the greatest of pleasure,’ he murmured, looking up at her, his odd eyes twinkling as he kissed the gentle curve of her belly.

  Epilogue

  The sky was bright, the sun was high and the air was warm. It was summer already, a gorgeous June day, when just a week ago it had felt like deepest winter.

  Lois squeezed Robin’s hand as they strolled contentedly on the beach. They were barefoot in the surf but the rolling water held no fear for them. A short while earlier they’d taken a swim, frolicking happily.

  ‘Look!’ Robin gestured elegantly to a large chunk of driftwood a few yards away and, following his eye-line, Lois saw a pair of birds perched together on its highest branch.

  They were billing and cooing, preening each other, a perfect picture of mutual devotion and affection. Lois squinted, in the sun, and wondered if her eyes were deceiving her. The two birds looked vaguely familiar, and very much like the gull-like form her Robin had taken before he’d found this new body, lately vacated by the unfortunate Edgar.

  ‘They could be us,’ she observed, as the birds continued to canoodle, despite the presence of two humans so close by.

  ‘Not us,’ replied Robin, turning to her, an odd expression on his broad handsome face. His hair was gold-tipped now, and it shone in the morning sun. ‘But perhaps someone we know … and the one he longed to be with.’

  ‘Really?’

  Lois’s astonished exclamation finally disturbed the two lovebirds, and they took to the skies above the bay, whirling and wheeling, their glossy wings seeming to entwine as they soared in an aerial ballet of sheer exuberance.

  ‘Looks like they’re making love, doesn’t it?’ observed Robin, smiling as he watched their play. ‘Shall we go back indoors and do the same?’

  Lois looked up into his eyes, smiling back at him. The blue one was bluer and the brown one browner now that, more and more, he became the natural resident of his brand-new body.

  ‘I’d love to, Magic Man, I’d really love to!’

  Tugging on his big warm hand, she led the way towards the path.

  Buddies Don’t Bite

  1

  ‘DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!’

  Teresa Johnson trudged into the cosy, softly lit kitchen and flung her bag across the room, grimacing at the thought of her mobile and her PDA in a thousand bits, but in no mood to really care all that much.

  ‘Idiot!’ Avoiding a damage inspection, she headed for the fridge. First things first, she needed wine. Then a think.

  Yanking open the big old refrigerator door, she stilled herself, closed her eyes, breathed deeply. Tantrums were pointless. And so was breaking things. Whether that be her wine or milk bottles, or the ones containing Zack’s peculiar ‘iron shake’.

  ‘Chill out … chill out …’ Reaching in for her Chardonnay, she wondered for the hundredth time what was in those dark-brown vacuum-sealed bottles lined up on the middle shelf. She’d opened one once, and it’d made her cringe. The heavy earthy raw-meat smell had been disturbing. Poor old Zack having to drink that mucky stuff for every meal. She didn’t envy him his anaemia and food allergies.

  Almost overfilling her wine glass, she teetered over to the refectory table and slumped down in a chair. Her anger was all but gone now and dim disappointment felt like a low pressure front.

  ‘So what’s it to be, Teresa?’ She took a long slurp of wine. ‘To wedding or not to wedding? Is it nobler in the mind to stay at home like a cowardly, boyfriendless reject? Or to take arms against a sea of smug marrieds and lovey-dovey couples and get laughed at because I’m a loser?’

  ‘Talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, my dear, didn’t you know that?’

  Wine went everywhere, and Teresa’s chair rocked on its back legs. She braced for impact with the hard kitchen floor and the thump of pain – then she found herself upright with her heart pounding fit to burst.

  ‘Zack, for Christ’s sake, don’t sneak up on me like that! I hate it when you creep around and I don’t hear you!’

  She’d definitely felt her chair going over, but now it was four square again, and she was on her feet. And there was Zack, her tall, dark and handsome landlord, mopping efficiently at the spilt wine on the table with squares of kitchen roll.

  Teresa glanced at the bottle, disorientated. Even allowing for spillage there was plenty left. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t imagining things.

  Zack had put in one of his famous appearances right out of thin air.

  And now – domesticated yet still manly – he was cleaning up her mess and making her ears burn with guilt. ‘Oh, God, Zack, I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t yell … it’s your house and you’re entitled to creep about if you want to.’

  ‘No problem. I’m just sorry I startled you, love.’ With his usual deftness and elegance, her landlord made short work of the clean up operation, and in what felt like a split-second, he’d poured her another glass of wine and was nodding for her to sit back down again.

  Not for the first time, Teresa decided that it was a criminal waste to live every day with an unusual but desirable man like Zachary Trevelyan – and not be anything more than good house buddies. His narrow elegant face was alight with pleasure, even though he’d just been soundly bellowed at. What normal man would suck up such abuse and still smile?

  ‘Better now?’ Before the words were out, he was sitting down opposite her.

  ‘Yes.’ She was. It was always better to be looking at Zack than not looking at him. She loved his beautiful calming stillness that was such a contrast to the spookily swift way he sometimes moved. What would be even better was for him to move swiftly in her direction, take her in his arms and kiss her – instead of clearly observing the boundaries of their respective personal spaces.

  In the interests of long-term house harmony and cordial landlord/tenant relations, Teresa always squished down hard on the temptation to think of Zack in ‘that way’. But it was hellishly difficult when even after six months of friendship and platonic cohabitation he still did the maddest, hottest things to her hormones.

  He was far from her usual type.

  The accursed Steve and various assorted men who’d preceded him, had all been healthy, tanned, gym-buffed and metrosexual, and Zack was as far from that as it was possible to be.

  The word ‘Goth’ always sprang to mind when she looked at him. Tall and lean and vaguely etiolated, he had all the characteristics of a typical night dweller, which wasn’t at all surprising, considering he suffered from photophobia and sun sensitivity on top of his other problems. And yet his pallor captivated her. As did the stylish gauntness that seemed to suggest his bones were just a bit too big for his skin.

  The lean sharp lines of his cheekbones and his jaw conferred on him a louche romantic glamour that reminded her of those sexy silent movie
stars who dressed as sheikhs and wore eyeliner. Couple that with the kind of dark curly hair that could have looked like a yokel on anybody else, but suggested wild Byronic decadence on him and the most hypnotic blue eyes, the colour of a rare antique perfume bottle.

  Teresa surreptitiously clenched her teeth. If exotic Zack had shown even the slightest hint of a whisker of a glimmer of interest in her, there would have been no need to go out with substandard men like Steve anyway.

  ‘Come on, love … what’s the matter? You can tell your Uncle Zack.’

  Slipping into ‘therapist’ mode, Zack crossed his long lean arms in front of him, and then settled into a perfect waiting tranquillity. Playing up to his own gothic image, he was wearing a loose frilled poet’s shirt, half open down the front to show a tasty wedge of his smooth hairless chest.

  Teresa stilled too. She’d whirled into the house in a maxi state about a micro drama, and now, after five minutes with Zack, she could barely remember what had been bugging her.

  Looking into his clear blue eyes, she felt a low internal thud deep in her body.

  This was the man she’d wanted to go to the wedding with, not Steve. It had never really been Steve. He was just a substitute and she almost felt sorry for him, despite the fact he was a rat. She’d only started dating him because Zack, her dearest friend, was off limits.

  She’d fancied Zack, despite his peculiarities, ever since the first moment she’d set eyes on him, one night in a local coffee house. Then, as now, he’d offered sympathy – that time over her losing her flat when her previous housemates decided to sell up. They had been total strangers and yet he’d offered her the hospitality of his big rambling house and without thinking twice, or even once, she’d accepted.

  Her fingers prickled with the desire to reach out, unwind those strong arms of his, and coax him to rewind them around her. She wanted to kiss his sweet red mouth, push her tongue between his lips, and find out if those large, white teeth of his were really as sharp as they sometimes looked. She wanted to rip his shirt all the way open and kiss his chest – and maybe his neck too. Perhaps she’d nibble him a bit? She often seemed to find herself imagining that. She wanted to peel off those tight black jeans that clung to his lean legs like liquorice – and see if the astonishing bulge she sometimes saw there was as magnificent as it was in her fantasies.

  ‘Teresa?’

  Zack’s voice sounded shaken somehow, as if he had sensed her thoughts but wasn’t sure he liked them.

  ‘It’s the wedding. I can’t go!’

  ‘But I thought you were looking forward to it?’

  ‘I was … I love weddings …’ Her mind filled with flowers, smiling faces and the sheer sentimental joy of romance. ‘But I was looking forward to going with someone … and not being part of the usual cattle market.’ Zack’s serious sculpted face bore a strangely wistful expression and she had a feeling he understood her perfectly. ‘I was … um … expecting a hot, sexy, romantic weekend.’

  ‘So what’s happened?’

  ‘Steve and I have split up … well, technically he dumped me. I think I might have come over a tad soppy over the whole wedding thing and scared him off. So he bailed.’ She shuddered, not because of the loss but at what she might have let happen. Encouraged. ‘Unfortunately, though, because he’s a friend of the groom, he’s still going to the wedding … with someone else.’

  Zack’s eyes were steady, thoughtful and heart-breakingly blue. ‘Mmm. That’s awkward.’ He was as still as ever, but she could see him weighing up her options.

  Suddenly, tears welled up, but they were nothing to do with Steve or the wedding. They were for something wistful and glorious that she’d never, ever have. A proper romance with pale and beautiful Zack.

  ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’

  In another burst of freakish speed, he was in the chair beside her now, his powerful arms wrapped around her. And it felt so good that their unspoken boundaries were suddenly meaningless.

  In Zack’s cradling hold she was safe and cherished. He held her lightly but like a rock, like Superman to her Lois, he was so strong. In her mind, she flew back to a precious moment a few weeks ago. Another instance when he’d breached his personal space for her. She’d caught a virus that was going around and had nearly passed out. And sweet Zack had swept her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her all the way to bed.

  Unfortunately, when he got her there, he’d left her with a hot water bottle, a selection of painkillers and decongestants and a steaming lemon drink – rather than climbing beneath the covers and giving her the sexual healing that she longed for.

  But those moments of being swooped up off her feet and carried as if she weighed nothing at all had been exquisite, despite her congested sinuses and her headache. And being held now was equally sublime.

  ‘You could still go, Teresa.’ His hand was cool against her skin where he smoothed her hair away from her face. ‘You’re stronger than you think. Why not go anyway and show everyone how fabulous you are? Have fun and just be there for Lisa.’

  You’re so right, she thought. I will go. Why not?

  Peering at him, blinking, she smiled a grateful smile, and then opened her mouth to speak – and brought forth insane words she’d never intended to utter.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d come with me, would you? I mean … not a “date” or anything? More a friend-type thing, really. You wouldn’t have to be outside in daylight. The wedding itself and the parties and whatnot are all either indoors or held in the evening.’

  Nothing about the way Zack held her altered, but he was staring at the table, his pale profile intense, almost graven. A single jet-black curl dangled against his brow like an inverted question mark.

  What have I done? Teresa thought. Now I’ve spoilt everything by opening my big mouth. But before she opened that big mouth again, knowing it was futile to even attempt to repair the damage, Zack spoke first.

  With his customary measured grace, he unwound his arms from around her, pushed back his chair and stood up. Then he clasped his hands together, rubbing the fingers of one hand against the back of the other, studying them fixedly as if he’d never seen them before. Teresa couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d run around the room, shouting and breaking things.

  ‘OK … why not? I’ll go with you. I’ll even be your “date”, if you want me to.’ His rather sultry red mouth curved into a smile.

  What?

  Teresa’s jaw dropped, and the cosy familiar room suddenly seemed almost alien. This was studious Zack who worked from home writing scholarly historical treatises and never, ever went out during the day. This was Zack, who only ever ventured out at dusk, or at night, for long walks around the city streets. That was how she’d met him, in the coffee shop that night, and he’d been there for her then, just as he was now.

  But this was different. This was amazing. Without thinking, Teresa leapt up, lunged forward – and kissed him.

  And promptly forgot about weddings, and weekends, and perfidious weasel boyfriends.

  Zack’s lips were soft and cool and velvety. Twice as luscious as she’d imagined and a hundred times more provocative. They were quiescent beneath hers at first, almost innocent, and deep in her groin pure lust kicked, and kicked again. There was something uniquely seductive about a man who was untouched, who was shy and pure. One of her deepest and most secret masturbation fantasies was to seduce a young sweet virgin man. It was an impossible dream when most men were sexually active well before they were even supposed to be. But even so, the magical idea of it still burned in her imagination.

  And Zack’s beautiful motionlessness played right into those dreams. He simply accepted the kiss, but there was thrilling latency to the lush supple contact. The urge to hurl her weight forwards, wrestle him to the kitchen floor and accept the consequences raged through her.

  But then, inside, something intangible tipped over.

  Arms like steel bands closed tight around her, and his tongue gently presse
d between her lips, demanding entrance. She let him in, loving the strange coolness of the moist and mobile pressure.

  Her arms came up, hands roving over his hard back beneath his thin cotton shirt. And the touch of that was cool too, like woven cobwebs sliding over marble.

  Although she’d lived with this man for months, she very, very rarely touched him. She’d almost forgotten the shock of his cold skin when they’d shaken hands to seal their house-sharing agreement, but now his hurried talk of poor circulation came back to mind.

  But there was nothing wrong with his circulation today. Everything about him was active and hungry and full of life. Where before he’d been diffident, he was vibrant and eager now. Where before he seemed to be holding back, now he’d opened wide the gates.

  Tugging at each other, they were suddenly on the kitchen floor just as she’d imagined, kissing like maniacs. Zack threw one long lean leg across her, and acquainted Teresa with that star turn of all her erotic daydreams.

  This is demented. I’m kissing my landlord and he’s got a hard-on, she thought.

  Unable to contain herself, Teresa surged against him, rocking shamelessly against Zack’s sturdy erection. So much for keeping their distance and observing ‘friends only’ no-go areas. Her outburst had re-engineered the parameters. There wasn’t anywhere that she couldn’t venture now.

  He had the most glorious backside. Tight and hard and round like a brace of ripe apples. And when she grasped it, he growled in his throat in a most astonishing way. Deep and fierce, like the call of a jungle animal, it bounced off the kitchen walls and filled her ears. If she hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth, Teresa would have said, ‘What the fuck is going on?’

  But their tongues were dancing and she felt like growling too.

  Deep in her belly, a famished hunger was gnawing at her. It was a long while since she’d had good sex. A real, hard, long wonderful fuck. She’d held back with Steve, and had been hoping this weekend would be their romantic first time. But now, she thanked every lucky star in heaven that she hadn’t succumbed.