Thrills and Spills (Not Quite Eden Book 3)

by Dominique Kyle

  We were packing the races in – two in a weekend if we could manage it. I was finding it really tough. All the local drivers would just head straight for me to show off their nerfing skills. Sometimes it felt like a rodeo. But I didn’t have any major accidents and my points total just kept on rising. And I was getting truly hardened to the aggression. Jo was beginning to find it exhilarating. She celebrated a win or otherwise good result as though she’d got it herself.

  On the way back one time I said suddenly, “I’ve just realised that I didn’t feel naked this time.”

  She gave me a weird look.

  “I mean that every time we’ve set off without the men I sort of felt vulnerable and naked and missing some protection, but I didn’t today.”

  She glanced in her mirror and indicated to turn right. “Actually, you’re right, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling but I’ve been trying to suppress it because I know I shouldn’t feel like that. But it’s gradually wearing off isn’t it?”

  I figured we were a giant psychological step nearer to my business proposal being viable.

  It was one of those weekends where Pete and Paul were having to stay away in the Beast so I just went home to the flat. Saturday night, but both Quinn and Kes were in the flat with their feet up.

  “What no gig?” I queried.

  “Nah, Oz has got his ‘A’ levels going on and he asked us to knock it on the head for a while, and I can’t say I’m bothered – since Thrills and Spills started it’s a bit like a rugby scrum at every gig. Though the venues love that of course. So I’ve got Mariah here for the night.”

  “Where’s Siân?” I asked Kes.

  “Girl’s night out,” he yawned. “And I can’t say I’m bothered as she’s knackering me out with all her kinky sexual demands!”

  “Ooo, do tell all!” Quinn begged salaciously.

  I glanced at the level in the whisky bottle at their side. Nearly through. Oh well, might be fun if they were in this mood. I reached for a glass, filled it, and threw myself into the free armchair.

  “But she’s hardly ever here Kes, so you can’t be hard at it that often,” I cavilled, kicking my boots off.

  He looked a bit coy and attempted to tap his nose but kinda missed. Nearly rat-arsed already, I surmised.

  “You can’t stop now, Kes,” Quinn pursued. “I want to know what she’s making you do…”

  “You are so not a normal older brother!” I flicked at him.

  He smiled naughtily at me.

  Kes was hiding his face in his hands. “Ok, if you really must know – she gets really turned on by dangerous sex!”

  “What, like on a tightrope?” Quinn frowned.

  “Without a condom?” I hazarded.

  “No you idiots – sort of outdoors or anywhere where there’s a danger of someone walking in or seeing you or where you really didn’t ought to be doing it-”

  “Like where?” My brow was wrinkled.

  “Supermarket aisles, department store changing rooms, hospital corridors, graveyards, um – where else have we done it?” He paused to rack his memory.

  “You’ve really done it in all those places?” Quinn marvelled.

  “And you can – um – perform under those circumstances?” I queried delicately, given that I’d recently found it almost impossible to achieve an orgasm in a private car with the odd headlamp going by.

  “Mostly,” he said cheerfully. “At least, I can now I’ve got used to her insistent demands to do it different every time…”

  “I hope she’s not photographing selfies of all this for her Facebook page and reporting every sordid detail like she did with that Beck guy,” I observed drily.

  Kes blanched a bit. “No, I’m sure she’s grown out of that sort of thing now…” He said. But he sounded a bit uncertain all of a sudden. “And anyway Facebook takes down nudie photos…” He pointed out after a short pause. He flapped a dismissive hand. “And anyway, it would all come through via the feeds so someone would have told me.”

  Quinn and I exchanged glances. I knew Quinn would do the decent thing and check up on his friend’s behalf.

  “So you now, Eve,” Kes waved his glass in my direction.

  “Me what?” I said defensively.

  “Tell us a sex secret.”

  “I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this guys, I’m half a bottle behind you two!”

  Quinn looked slyly sideways at me. “Go on, tell us something about you and Pete.”

  I felt myself blushing. “Oh no I’m really very boring…”

  “Come on Eve, I told you mine,” Kes protested, “you’ve got to give us something.”

  “Is he good in bed?” Quinn quizzed.

  “Yes of course he is!” I said indignantly.

  “Why of course? How can you tell when you’ve never slept with anyone else?” Quinn needled.

  “Um, well, I never don’t have an orgasm…” I blurted out. “He um – always knows what to do…”

  It took a moment for them both to disentangle the grammar, and then both boys looked at each other and then me. My cheeks burned.

  “That’s a bit of an intimidating standard to live up to, don’t you think eh Kes?” Quinn observed, “Unless you’re just-”

  “Just what?” I challenged dangerously.

  “Um, just the sort of girl who finds it easy to achieve an orgasm?” Quinn skirted carefully.

  “Which is what sort of girl exactly?” I launched.

  “So Quinn,” Kes diverted attention back to my tormentor. “Your turn! What are you going to tell us?

  Quinn settled back in his seat and smiled smugly. “What do you want to know?”

  There was a short silence. Kes and I looked at each other.

  “Actually Quinn, I’m not sure I want to know anything at all,” Kes concluded.

  “Nor me,” I said quickly. He looked infinitely smug then, his green eyes lashing triumphantly. “No wait,” I said slowly. “Here’s one. Who did you first ever do it with?”

  His face changed a bit and the colour fluctuated in his face in an interesting swift tide of red.

  “Yes, Quinn,” Kes jumped on the bandwagon. “That’s a really good one! Well done Eve! Even I don’t know that. You’ve kept that a fine secret all this time. So who was it? Spill ‘em!”

  “What about you two?” Quinn deflected.

  “You know about us,” Kes protested. “That’s boring! Eve had Pete and I had your sister…”

  “But how was your first time?” Quinn looked straight at me.

  “Fucking painful,” I said. “Fucking, fucking painful…”

  His eyebrows raised interestedly, “Really?”

  “Yes, so if a girl ever tells you it’s her first time, you be really careful…” I suggested.

  “So wasn’t Pete?” He queried. He seemed to keep trying to find out something negative about Pete’s performance.

  “No, Pete was absolutely wonderful, but you still have to actually physically shove it in there, don’t you?”

  He lowered his eyes from mine then looked across at Kes. “And you Kes, how was it for you?”

  “Actually quite painful as well,” he admitted.

  “Really?” I said, both surprised and curious.

  “Yeah, my foreskin got thrust suddenly back and I wasn’t expecting that and it really hurt.”

  “Ok,” I said, storing that up. I looked back at Quinn. “Don’t think you can get away with it by diverting attention. Who was it?”

  He just looked at me.

  “When was it?” I tried.

  “When I’d just turned fifteen,” he admitted.

  “Do we know her?” I prompted.

  “Maybe,” he was giving nothing away.

  “Older or younger?” Kes joined in.

  “Older,” he supplied. His green eyes flickered warily.

  “Sixth former?” Kes hazarded.

  Quinn shook his head, the rest of his body language unusually motionless. I stared at
him, my eyes narrowed, someone he really didn’t ought to have been with, I thought. Someone he’s not willing to admit to even now… His gaze stared me out, defying me to work it out.

  “So how was it?” Kes gave up trying to force a name out of him.

  “Bloody brilliant,” Quinn announced with a self-satisfied smile.

  I groaned. “Might have known, Kes. And he’s never looked back since. I’m off to bed guys, happy drinking!”

  I saw Kes reaching for another bottle tucked down the side of the settee. He was well gone. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember anything of the conversation tomorrow morning. Unfortunately Quinn was unusually sober for that amount of whisky. Maybe he’d kept a lid on it in case Mariah needed him in the night. I retreated to my room. Hmm, interesting revelations though… I was so going to find out that secret of Quinn’s one day!

  A groaning Kes crawled out of bed about midday on Sunday. Mariah was already crawling around on the floor herself and he nearly tripped over her.

  “Mind out!” Quinn snapped.

  Kes sat down at the kitchen table while I made him some coffee. He had his head in his hands. Finally he said thickly, “I feel like I might have said something I didn’t ought to last night, guys… Did I?”

  Quinn and I exchanged a swift glance. “No Kes, nothing that I remember…” I lied.

  Quinn plucked Mariah off the tiled floor and looked at me. “Will you help me get her back again? She really wriggles now.”

  “Guess I need to go and see little bro,” I sighed. “Ethan, what sort of name is that?”

  “The name my mother was going to call Mariah if she was a boy,” Quinn revealed.

  “So she’s inveigled into my family instead has she?” I started to rehearse the Quinn names in my head. Adam, Siân, Liam, Declan… she clearly had a bit of a thing about am and an sounding endings.

  Dad and Pauline seemed very happy and the dog was leaping around me ecstatically when I arrived.

  “Calm down now Mr. Cuddles!” She admonished.

  I still had no idea what the pooch was actually called – I’d never heard her call him the same thing twice in a row. But basically, as long as the mutt wasn’t shagging my leg, that was a bonus.

  I did my duty over the carry cot. He still looked fairly ugly to me. Like a little Buddha. Like one of those fat wrinkly Shar Pei puppies. (I had to google them when I got home to find out what breed I was thinking of).

  “He’s put on loads of weight,” I observed deciding to avoid wrinkly puppy observations.

  “That’s all my lovely rich breast milk,” she said smugly.

  “What does it taste like?” I asked curiously and completely inappropriately. But then that’s me isn’t it, open my big mouth…

  “Ask Jack that,” she said promptly.

  “Dad?” I looked accusingly at him.

  He went bright red. “Sort of rich and sweet – just like milk really.”

  “Unless I’ve been eating curry,” she trilled.

  “Do all husbands have a taste of their wife’s breast milk do you think?” I speculated.

  Dad harrumphed embarrassedly. “Probably…”

  “So anyway, how are you both?” I thought it politic to change the subject.

  “Ooo, I must tell you this, petal,” she said enthusiastically. “Since you showed my garage on TV I’ve had so much interest! Dolls House and Miniature Scene Monthly want to feature it and want me to write an article on how I did it, and I’ve had two commissions already!”

  “Blimey,” I said faintly. Dolls House Monthly – who’d have thought such a thing existed? “Would you like me to bring it back so you can take close-up photos of it and such like,” I offered. “You can look after it here for me until I have kids of my own to give it to…” Phew, what a relief!

  “Ooo, would you petal? That would be really helpful! And your online fanzine want a photo too!”

  “What online fanzine?” I queried, startled.

  “Oh surely you know about that, flower? It’s called ‘U’d betta beliEVE it’ – Get it? They collect all the information they possibly can on you!”

  I stared at her. “That sounds a bit creepy!” I said.

  “Oh no petal, I think most of it is just made up!”

  “Even creepier…” I grimaced. “That’s just weird…”

  I had an ordinary week. We’d come to a compromise at the garage. If someone came in and had a job done and they wanted my autograph, I’d sign their car with a permanent marker. Otherwise I wasn’t playing…

  On Thursday I straightened up after signing a purple mini and said to Jo, “I’m done now, I’ll see you up at the barn…” We’d agreed to look over the shale car in readiness for Belle Vue since it was a while since it had had a run out, and we couldn’t remember what condition we’d left it in. If nothing else it probably needed an oil change.

  “Ok, I’ll be about half an hour yet…” She said in pre-occupied tones.

  I arrived at the Satterthwaites’ but no-one seemed to be about. Sue was probably down with the horses and Paul’s car wasn’t there. I went to the barn to start work, then noticed that Pete’s car was parked outside. I hadn’t expected him to be home yet. He wasn’t in the barn, so I jogged towards the house. This was a bonus, half an hour alone with Pete before Jo arrived to be po-faced about our canoodling as she called it. All was quiet in the house. He must be upstairs. I went to his bedroom and just as I went to open the door I heard some giggling from the other side of it. I froze. And even worse, I was pretty sure I knew that giggle. But of course, it didn’t mean they were up to anything. If a girl was in there they could just be chatting… It could be one of Sue’s horse girls. In a family home one often took friends of the opposite sex perfectly innocently to one’s room – it was the only place for private conversation. Except that the house was deserted right now, so what was wrong with the kitchen? I considered just walking very quietly away, but then I’d never know would I? I gathered all my guts up and pushed open the door.

  They didn’t appear to notice at first. Pete was on top of her – in bed – naked. And then she turned her head and looked at me. Her dark blue eyes, so like Mariah’s, glimmered with satisfaction at me, and she smiled triumphantly. I just turned round and ran. Ran down the stairs, out of the house, got on my bike and drove as fast as I could away. Away anywhere. It began to rain really heavily. I drove and drove and then I just got to an unfenced part of the moors and I threw my bike down in a muddy layby and ran into the heather.

  I sat curled up in a ball. My head jammed on my knees. My arms tightly wound round my legs. And I rocked. I was in complete shock. I felt like my insides had been ripped out. I was shaking. I felt freezing cold and my teeth began to chatter. I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to throw up. The rain heaved it down in a sideways slant and I knew I had to get up and drive home but I didn’t feel capable of doing it. I was soaked to the skin and I knew I had to get home.

  In my pocket, my phone started buzzing. I felt clumsily for it. Jo. I pressed the green button with my freezing, shaking fingers.

  “Where are you, Eve? I expected you to be here. I’ve been waiting ages for you! Have you broken down somewhere?”

  “Jo,” I said. And then I began to cry. Sob.

  “God, Eve, what’s happened?” She asked concerned. “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know where I am, I’m just out on the moors somewhere. I wasn’t paying attention!”

  “Ok,” she said calmly. “Tell me what’s happened? Have you come off your bike?”

  “No,” I said. I wiped roughly at my face. “I came back to your place but no-one was around but then I saw Pete’s car was there so I went up to find him in his room and he was in there having sex with Siân Quinn!” I sobbed.

  There was a complete silence. “Are you sure?” She said at last.

  “Of course I’m sure Jo! I know what sex looks like and what Siân Quinn looks like!”

  “Ok, ok, so
rry! It’s just I can hardly credit it of my brother!”

  “Well it’s true!” I said a trifle hysterical by now. “Do you think I’d make a thing like this up?”

  “No, no, of course not!” I could hear she was walking now as she spoke. “I’m looking outside now,” she said, “And his car doesn’t seem to be here now.” There was another silence. Then she said, “So are you out there on the moors in this rain?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to stifle more sobs. “I’ve been sitting here for about an hour now. I don’t know what else to do!”

  “Ok, what you need to do is go back home and get out of your wet clothes and get in a hot shower, and I’m going to ring you up again in half an hour and if you’re not home by then, I’m coming out to look for you. Ok?”

  “Ok.”

  “Promise me that you’re going to get up right now and go back to your bike and drive straight home?”

  “Ok,” I said abruptly and rang off.

  She rang back immediately but I didn’t answer it. She was right though. I needed to get home before I was so frozen stiff I wasn’t safe on the bike. Completely on remote, I stumbled back to the bike, hauled it up and kicked the stand out. I picked up the helmet which I’d thrown onto the ground upside down and was now full of water like a goldfish bowl, tipped it out, jammed it soggy and wet over my head, threw my leg over the bike and turned the key in the ignition. I turned back the way I’d come and found to my dismay that it was going to mean passing by the Sattertwaites’, so I took another sign to town down a winding back lane and eventually found my way onto a road I recognised.