by Laura Kemp
‘Not much,’ Em said, shaking her fringe and examining her reflection in a hand mirror. ‘Is it straight? Because I don’t think it’s straight. You can’t see this eyebrow but you can see most of the other one.’
Letty peered hard at her friend. Fuck! Frankie had ballsed it right up, which was very odd. Normally she had a steadier pair of hands than a blinking surgeon. Em’s usual style of fringe was Mary Quant but this was Mary Quirky. Although, hang on, she thought examining it intently, it was really lovely in a kooky way.
‘It’s not straight, no,’ she said, tilting her head, ‘But… I like it. Actually, I love it. It’s edgy. Still angular, like you like it, but it looks great.’
‘Okay.’
Bloody hell, Letty would’ve had a screaming fit if this had happened to her but Em was satisfied. This was one of her most lovely features, she would take your word for it; there was no fishing for compliments.
‘Funnily enough, I feel a bit skew-whiff,’ Em said as a flicker from the electric storm lit up the room.
‘How’s that then?’ Letty said, returning to her nails.
‘Simon Brown wants to move in to help with the baby.’
‘Right. And how would that work?’ It was quite an offer – above and beyond his duty – Letty thought, wondering if there was anything more going on which Em hadn’t picked up.
‘He’d have two weeks of paternity leave, so for that he’d be here all the time. Then a few months until I get the baby into a routine. Separate bedrooms. He’d do the cooking and washing. I’d really wanted Mum to help but she’s going away just before the baby’s due. Floyd will be around but I need someone who’s experienced, and it seems as if Simon Brown is my only option.’
Ah. It sounded that he was just trying to honour his role as the father. Poor love, Letty said to herself, she must feel so alone. ‘Don’t forget we’re all here. We could all take a fortnight off in sequence so your first six weeks are covered and by then you’ll have settled in.’
Topping up her glass with some fizzy water and refilling Letty’s glass, Em said: ‘That’s so kind. But it’ll be the blind leading the blind! I’m a godmother and I love kids, but babies, well, they’re completely different. At least Simon Brown has been there, done that and got the sicky T-shirt with his six-year-old daughter. What do you reckon about his plan?’
Letty wondered if Em was actually seeking some kind of validation, permission even, to take him up on it. Perhaps Em had a gut feeling to do it but didn’t yet trust it.
‘Honestly? I think there’d be nothing better than you and him doing this together. It’s natural to worry now about the effect it might have on you if he did move in when the baby comes. But I suspect when the time comes, you’ll both be preoccupied with the baby. Besides, you get on still, you might not be together but you’ve got a good relationship.’ She thought of Lance, who was finding it very hard not seeing Eddy every day. ‘And Simon is the father – you’re going to know one another for the rest of your lives now, so you have to consider him, build bridges. And kids need their dads. Dear God, they need their dads.’
Look how her dad’s absence had affected her life. Yet she’d never try to find him: he didn’t have the right to be part of her life now. It was too late but how she’d wished it had been different.
‘But I’m scared,’ Em said in a tiny voice. ‘What if he hurts me all over again when he leaves?’ Then she cleared her throat and smoothed her lap of creases. When she spoke she was her usual contained self again. ‘No, I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. I’m going to do this alone. I have my interview to think about and Simon Brown is a distraction. He is my rival. I have only known him a few months. I cannot put my life in his hands.’
This was standard Em, she was trying to protect herself, and Letty didn’t blame her.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps he’s doing all of this to distract me, so he gets the manager’s job… would someone do that?’
‘I don’t think so, babes,’ Letty said, frowning at her friend’s neuroticism. ‘He’d have to be a totally nasty piece of work to do that and he doesn’t seem the type.’
Em sighed. ‘I just wish I could rope off my private and professional lives, like I used to be able to. Like he can.’
‘It’ll all work out, babes,’ Letty said, ‘I refuse to believe otherwise. I mean, who’d have thought it’d work out for me and Lance?’
Em looked down at her thickening stomach and gave it a rub. ‘I saw the midwife the other day. She said I should think about a home birth. It’s all the rage these days. But Mum did that with me and Floyd, which is a good enough reason not to do it.’
‘I’d demand all the drugs and a curtain at the neck so I didn’t have to see any of it,’ Letty said, firmly.
‘Well, I fancy a nice sterile birth in a hospital with gas and air. Are you thinking about reproduction then, Letty?’
Letty reeled back in shock – truly it wasn’t something she’d thought of. ‘Christ no! I still can’t believe we’re together, properly together,’ she said. ‘It’s weird enough to have a bloke there the next morning! But I’m really looking forward to having his son to stay once Lance has finished baby-proofing the flat, which by the way has completely ruined the look of the place. It’s all gates and contraptions to stop fingers getting trapped. But it’s going to be lush to see Lance as a dad. It’ll be good training for me when you want some baby-sitting.’
Smiling, Em reached out her hands.
Letty felt a burst of love for her: she was doing so well for someone who found the unknown so terrifying.
‘Oh, come here!’ Letty said, leaping out of her chair to cwtch her.
‘That’s nice,’ Em said into her ear. ‘But I meant I was ready for you to do my nails…’
‘I know!’ Letty squealed. ‘I KNOW!’
At the Same Time… Lesson Four
Frankie
Marching a fraction ahead of Floyd, Frankie was all of a dither.
‘Talk about making it obvious,’ she’d said when they stepped out into the muggy night.
‘You’re being absurd. They wouldn’t guess I’m your teacher just because I’ve come with you to the shop.’
She’d stomped on for a bit, realizing that yes, he was probably right. But she felt all spiky and confused about her reaction to the news that Sasha was coming home – and for her physical flush in Floyd’s company. Surely she didn’t have a crush on him?
She had to think straight. She had no right to a breaking news heads-up on Floyd’s ‘relationship status update’. They had a professional agreement, that was all. And what she was feeling for him wasn’t real. It was that ‘trans-thingy’ Floyd had told her about. Transference, that was it, ‘an unconscious redirection of feelings from one person to another’, he’d said, when he’d told how one of his patients fell for him. Frankie had simply diverted and projected her feelings for Jason onto Floyd. That was all.
Feeling calmer, steadier now she knew where she stood, her feet slowed down so Floyd could catch up. ‘You must be so happy Sasha’s coming home,’ she said, trying to make amends.
‘She wants to get a place together,’ he said. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
‘There you are, your very own happy ending,’ she summarised, because saying it out loud steeled her for what she had to do next – end their arrangement.
‘It’s just I never thought she’d go for it,’ he said.
The thunder that had been in the distance crashed overhead – if there was ever a sign that a higher being was giving her a nudge, that was it. ‘So… we need to call all of this off.’
‘Yep, looks like it. Definitely. Absolutely,’ he said, nodding ferociously.
They walked in silence for a bit.
‘The thing is, though, she’s always bloody late. Never on time for anything so it could be ages.’
Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Right, so you don’t know when she’s back?’
‘Nope. She’
ll just turn up at some point, if she does at all. So there’s no real rush if you, er…’
‘Oh, right.’ Oh my goodness, she thought, he’s so lovely he’s willing to help me right up until the last possible minute.
‘And you’re doing so well,’ he said, brightening up, ‘I really think the next few lessons are vital, you’re almost there. Jason will be putty in your hands.’
‘It’d be a shame to throw it all away, I s’pose.’ She made it sound like she wasn’t that bothered because she didn’t want him to feel an obligation but inside she was jumping for joy.
‘And we can combine some of the modules to speed things up. Like Dressing Up and Erotica, we can do those two together, plus Sex Toys and Bondage are virtually the same thing anyway. I’m hoping we can fit Orgasms and Talking Dirty in amongst them too.’
‘That leaves us with three lessons because you’ve missed out Something Risky,’ she pointed out, wafting the neckline of her skater dress because it was such a warm night.
‘Right, so we should get a move on, then.’
‘Cool,’ she said, happy that they’d settled it.
‘So, er, how about now?’ he said, chirpily.
‘Now?’ she said, swallowing a scream and peeking at him quickly as they walked. Floyd was smiling broadly at her. He actually meant it!
‘Why not? Time is of the essence,’ he shrugged.
‘Okaaay,’ she said, laughing with nerves. And excitement. But then she began to see with new eyes. There was no way they could just stop and do anything here. They were on a busy road, there were people dressed up on their way to the waterfront and there were CCTV cameras everywhere.
Floyd clearly couldn’t have cared less as he began. ‘So, lesson number four. Risk in the sexual context is about the buzz of possibly getting caught,’ he said, ‘but it’s also about taking things out of the bedroom and into the public arena to make it feel adventurous. It’s a common fantasy and one which is fairly easy to act out in a park-’
‘In the park? But the park’s for picnics...’ Frankie squeaked.
‘On the train-’
‘I just like a nice coffee and one of those baguettes, I do.’
‘Or in the office.’
‘Office? People put their bums on desks and things?’ she said, horrified.
‘Er… yes.’
‘Oh. Right. Is it planned, then, like, do you go out with the intention of doing it? Because don’t you have to make sure you’re wearing the right clothes?’ she said, worrying because she had pants on and surely you shouldn’t be wearing any.
‘It can be or it might happen spontaneously, like, you’re out together and you feel… aroused and you just want that girl right now,’ he said in his loud lecture voice. Frankie looked around to check no one could hear. ‘For example, say I was feeling that about you…’ he said, touching her arm to indicate that yes, indeed, he meant her.
Frankie laughed then apologized when he gave her a stern look.
‘So, as I was saying, we’d be walking to the shops, as we are, and then we’d have a flirt – some teasing, a bit of a giggle, a bit of ooh-la-la lingering eye contact…’
‘Got you,’ Frankie said, with complete attention.
‘Then I’d take your hand, like this…’
Frankie’s whole body rippled with pleasure; she adored holding hands. Jason had always been a bit shy to do it in public, in case his mates saw him. So doing it now made her skin tingle. Floyd’s touch was warm and steady and their hands met perfectly, despite their gaping difference in height. She didn’t care if anyone saw them – she’d develop a hobble if they bumped into somebody, but it was dark enough to feel safe but thrilling at the same time.
‘Then I’d be imagining how it would feel to kiss you, to press against you, to feel your bumps squashed against me…’ His voice was softer now and she turned to him, biting her lip. Floyd blinked slowly, his intense eyes checking to see if she was feeling it too.
She gave a small nod and he continued.
‘Maybe,’ he sighed, ‘you’d do some… touching.’
Frankie began to throb as she saw the scene in her mind. His grip became firmer and her heart was there in her groin.
But they’d reached the shop! Going inside, Frankie felt fizzy and heady – buying groceries was the last thing on her mind but if he went back empty-handed the girls might twig. So she grabbed at random bars of chocolate before fiddling around in her purse for a note, then waited outside for Floyd. But he couldn’t come soon enough – she was dying to get to the good bit. When he stepped outside, he too had a hungry look on his face and they walked quickly, their glances smouldering, tripping over themselves to go wherever it was they were going to do this.
Rain began to fall in heavy, loaded drops and the streets became deserted. Floyd had ditched his glasses and his eyelashes were gleaming. Her chest felt shiny and her hair was now a mess of dirty blonde ringlets. Swept up by the anticipation, she couldn’t have cared less.
‘What now?’ she said, urgently, feeling nervous excitement. They weren’t touching but an electricity bounced between them, as if their anticipation was tangible.
‘Soon,’ he said, picking up the pace and holding his bag in front of his groin – Frankie felt a wild shot of lust go through her as she saw his shorts were straining.
Using a fob key, Floyd opened the glass door to Em’s block of apartments and took Frankie by the hand into the wide hallway. How many times had she passed through, not stopping to soak in its minimalist, modernist style? Now she noticed the muted lighting which fanned erotically up the matte dark grey walls. On the right, there was a winding industrial-style metal staircase which made her feel raw. At the back was a bank of steel rectangular letter boxes. And on the left, the wall was an entire mirror in front of which sat an armless creamy leather loveseat.
Floyd threw his bag then hers onto the petrol-coloured slate floor. ‘Ready?’ he said, hoarsely, pulling her towards him.
‘What if someone sees us?’ Frankie whispered, resisting his tug, holding onto the thrill of their charged longing. ‘Em and Letty are just upstairs, what if they come down, what if someone walks in?’
‘That’s the point.’ His voice was like gravel, coming from somewhere deeper than his chest.
She knew they didn’t have much time, so quickly, Frankie took it all in again. The hallway could almost be watching them. Anyone could walk past the door. There were people above them oblivious to what was about to happen – and the thought thrilled her. Just then, she caught sight of her reflection. She hardly recognized herself: it wasn’t just because she was sodden from the rain, in fact she hardly saw that at all. What struck her was her tousled hair, ripe lips, excited eyes and shining skin. Frankie shivered and stared up at Floyd with hungry eyes. Instinctively, they moved together. He picked her up, she drew her legs up around his waist and they began to kiss. Tenderly, slowly, at first, making the fantasy they’d shared real. He carried her to the stairs, where he placed her onto the coiled end of the bannister so he could free his hands.
‘Anyone could see us,’ she whispered, turned on by the thought. And then she gasped as she saw her and Floyd in the mirror. She was the voyeur.
‘Can you feel the danger?’ he breathed.
She could and they got lost in each other. Frankie was floating in a deep luxurious velvet to the soundtrack of the downpour outside. All of the hurt and humiliation and doubt was starting to be erased. In its place was a delicious, insistent and overwhelming pulse – holy moly, it was the same feeling she’d had when they had covered the sixty-nine. Was this how an orgasm began? In the mind?
But there was no time to find out. A door slammed high above them, making them seize up. Then footsteps gradually got louder, echoing Frankie’s disappointment: she could’ve gone all the way tonight.
‘Custard creams!’ Frankie said as they recovered themselves and played at searching through their bags when a woman appeared and went past them unaware.
>
‘That was close!’ Frankie whispered, on a high from the experience.
‘Too close,’ Floyd said, white-faced.
‘So I’m guessing that getting off on the thought of getting caught is an entirely different matter to actually getting caught.’
‘Correct. Safe to say, you get an A star for that assumption.’
‘You know, Floyd, it’s down to you! You’re ever so good at this. How you manage to act all of this out, it’s so clever. And if it’s like this with you then I can’t imagine how it’ll feel with Jason!’
Floyd opened his mouth, thought about it then shook his head. She didn’t wait for him to explain because suddenly she was aware of the time.
‘Come on, we better go,’ Frankie said, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘They’ll be wondering where we are.’
Em was on standby with towels, making sure they stayed on the doormat so they didn’t drip on the floor.
‘You took your time,’ she said, making a grab for Frankie’s bag. ‘Did you pop to Cadbury’s HQ? Wow. You seem to have bought the entire shop. Apart from my Caramel. But thanks.’
Then she turned her attention to Floyd’s carrier and began rifling through it. ‘Pesto, beef burgers and a Tex-Mex sauce? Interesting combo.’
‘It’s a, um, a fusion cuisine sort of thing,’ he snapped, before swiping it off his sister and heading to the kitchen.
Frankie was grateful for the hair towel so she could hide beneath it and breathe. The pride she felt at nailing the lesson in risk was gone; now she felt guilty that she was doing this behind Em’s back. It’s just that she wouldn’t understand, Frankie truly believed that. But it still felt a betrayal of sorts.
As she resurfaced through a tangle of curls, she heard Floyd saying: ‘You look hot!’
Whirling round to confront his indiscretion, Frankie smiled at the thought of whipping him with her towel. But he hadn’t been talking to her. He was grinning into the screen of his phone. She felt a stab of jealousy that he had been talking to… who?
