Christmas Blue at Flynn's

by Angela Verdenius

  “You took off when everyone arrived and didn’t come back.”

  Yawning loudly, Phoebe stretched luxuriously, little blue paws stretching out, toes spread.

  “Okay, you came back after the lights went out, pawing at my window and acting all alone and deserted.”

  “She was at the bottom of my bed.” Ben crunched on a chip, took a sip of Diet Coke. “Must have disappeared after I fell asleep.”

  Without a care in the world, Phoebe rolled onto her side.

  “Mind you, I did the same.” Flynn sighed. “I ran away.”

  He crunched another chip. “You’re not going back home?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “They’re your rellies.”

  “Believe me, I know. And it’s only the first full day. Can I seek sanctuary here for a little while?”

  “Flynn, you can stay here as long as you want. My home is your home and all that.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Does that include your chocolate?”

  “Might be a price on that.”

  “I’ll pay it. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it. Anything.”

  Kiss me. “Bring me some of that cake you baked.”

  “Aw.” Her face went all soft. “Ben.”

  “And the Melting Moments.”

  “You really like my cakes, don’t you?” Pleased, she took a sip of Diet Coke.

  I eat your dry cakes just to see you smile. “I’ll eat anything you bake.”

  “Sooo sweet.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.

  Holy shit, he felt the brush of her soft lips right down to the soles of his big feet. One touch and his toes were curling into the worn carpet.

  Drawing back, she smiled at him.

  He smiled back.

  They just kept smiling at each other.

  Then it started to get a little…odd. A slight blush tinged her cheeks and she glanced away. He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee to hide the stirring of his arousal.

  Crap, he’d made her feel awkward with his stupid look. Had his expression been lustful? Stunned? Wistful? Desperate? Pleading? Whatever, he better fix this moment by doing something heroic.

  Ben quickly ripped open the bag of chocolate. “Here.”

  Too bad the bag tearing alerted Phoebe. Eyes big, claws out, she was up and streaking over their laps.

  “Holy shit!” Ben yelled as those claws dug into his upper thigh dangerously close to his donger.

  Definitely fixed the arousal, but it put his fear meter up to a hundred and ten. Thousand.

  “Crap on a stick!” Flynn’s arm jerked, the Diet Coke splashing out onto her t-shirt.

  The chocolates flew into the air, Phoebe took off at their simultaneous exclamations, and they both bounced upright, Ben clutching his family jewels in instinctive protection, Flynn’s arms out to the sides.

  “Damn!” She stared down at her t-shirt.

  Ben pulled out the waistband of his shorts to check his manhood was still intact, though the slight sting was on his upper thigh and nowhere else. Thank goodness. “All good.” Releasing the waistband, he glanced ruefully at Flynn’s chest. “Wearing your drink, huh? I tell you, that…” His words trailed off.

  He couldn’t help it. His eyes may have bugged a little. He shouldn’t stare, should look away - a gentleman would look away - but he couldn’t. Not yet.

  Because Flynn’s t-shirt had just gone see-through thanks to the spilled Diet Coke, and her lovely breasts in the white bra were on display for him to admire. And salivate over. Especially when the bra was revealed to be thin and he could see the faint outline of her nipples. Like little strawberries.

  God, he had a sudden desire to feast on strawberries.

  Strawberries were suddenly his new favourite fruit.

  “Ah, man!” Ruefully grabbing her shirt, Flynn pulled the sopping material away from her body. “That little twerp just went and…Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you - are you all right?”

  “What?”

  “Um…”

  Dragging his gaze up, it hit him like a rock when he saw the uncertainty on her face. Shit, he’d been gaping like some kind of lecherous drongo. Gaping at her boobs.

  So not cool. “Oh - I - that won’t stain will it?” Oh, that’s so lame. Could you be any more of a dick?

  “Um…no. Possibly.” Those sweet cheeks flushed. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Right.” Dropping to his knees, he quickly started gathering up chocolates. “Sorry about that.”

  There was silence for several seconds, and just when he was thinking she might leave, Flynn knelt beside him to help gather up the chocolates.

  “No, I’m sorry. Phoebe and crinkly bags and paper are a recipe for disaster.”

  He managed a smile. “I should have remembered.”

  They both sat back on their heels, their hands full of chocolates that were starting to melt.

  Flynn still held her shirt out from her boobs with one hand. “I guess I better go and change.”

  “Before it stains,” he added. Lamely. Again.

  Pushing upright, she glanced around. “Where’s Phoebe?”

  “Probably shot right back home.” Ben chuckled like everything was right with the world and he hadn’t just been caught staring at his friend’s breasts.

  “She’s so naughty sometimes.” Flynn walked around the sofa. “I’ll just put this in the bin and wash my hands. Don’t want to get chocolate all over everything.”

  He’d like the chocolate all over her. He’d like to lick the chocolate off her hand. Wrist. Arm. Shoulder. Down to those breasts, lick that yumminess right off the tips of those tantalising nipples and - Stop it!

  Managing not to let his tongue hang out and make panting noises, he followed her, but while she washed her hands in the bathroom he used the kitchen sink. When she returned, she was smiling and as chirpy as usual.

  “That Phoebe.” Laughing, she shook her head.

  Laughing along with her, Ben manfully kept his gaze above her shoulders and his still half-aroused donger out of sight behind the kitchen bench.

  “Ah well, I can’t hide here forever.” With a sigh, Flynn walked to the front door. “I have rellies to feed.”

  Using the tea towel in his hand to hide his perky pecker, Ben followed her outside, stepping off the veranda to walk her to the front gate, loath to let her go, knowing he had to, figured he’d pushed the boundaries a little further, however unwittingly, than was comfortable between friends.

  Flynn seemed to be back to normal for which he was grateful. His cock-up - both meanings, actually, though she didn’t know that - hadn’t damaged their friendship. If he couldn’t have her as a lover, he’d take whatever he could get. Friendship was better than nothing.

  Partway down the path, she hesitated and started to turn back, only to have her attention caught by something at her home. Ben glanced over to see Archie and Gramma standing on her veranda, their faces going from stern to grim.

  He followed their line of vision to Flynn’s wet t-shirt which she was still holding out from her chest.

  Didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were thinking.

  They might have been disapproving, judging them wrongly, but all he could think was …I wish.

  ~*~

  I wish.

  With a sigh, Flynn rolled over in her bed.

  Phoebe rolled with her, her snore a lot louder than was right for a small, dainty cat.

  I wish my wet t-shirt had been for other reasons. I wish the sight of my small boobs had made Ben go on fire with lust. I wish he’d torn my shirt off and thrown me to the floor. Gently, of course, because I’m not into discomfort, but still manfully took me to the floor and had his wicked, wanton way with me. I wish Gramma and Archie had been accusing correctly instead of bloody mistakenly wrong.

  Another sigh.

  Finally, as the clock hand ticked past the two o’clock mark, she slipped from the bed, crossed the floor and
sat next to the window. Through the security screen a gentle breeze blew, the curtains moving lazily.

  Pulling the curtain back, she gazed out at the window directly opposite, the window to Ben’s bedroom, fantasising about what he looked like lying in his big manly bed, in his manly boxers, his manly chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took, his manly lips firm and so kissable just the thought had her licking her lips.

  Dreamily, she rested her elbow on the windowsill and pulled the curtain back further.

  It was only slowly, so very slowly, that she became aware of several things.

  One, she wasn’t alone.

  Two, someone else was at the window.

  Three - hells bloody bells! Someone was at her window staring ghoulishly in at her!

  Flynn screamed the house down.

  Chapter 3

  “Well.” Gram smeared Vegemite over her toast. “Didn’t you cause a ruckus last night.”

  “This morning. Two in the morning.” Smothering a yawn, Flynn dabbled the tea bag in the mug. “And it wasn’t a ruckus.”

  “You woke Archie.” Gramma shook her head. “And me. And Gram. And Ben. Before you knew it, we were all standing out there in our nightclothes trying to explain to the cops why Dax was walking around looking like something that crawled out from a grave.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Dax drawled from where he stood at the kitchen sink chowing through a bowl of cereal.

  “Uh,” Flynn grunted.

  “Had the neighbours coming out in their jarmies to check out the blue happening over here.” Gram shook her head. “Embarrassing.”

  It wasn’t the best of nights. One minute she’d been all dreamy, the next Dax’s white face had loomed up outside her window scaring the living crap out of her. Seriously, who expected a white death mask to be at their window at freakin’ two in the morning? And he’d had the nerve to laugh. She glared at him.

  “Hey.” He held up the spoon, ignoring the dribble of milk that trickled down to splat onto the kitchen bench. “I was being quiet. You were the one mooning at Ben’s window-”

  “I was not mooning.”

  “Then screaming the place down-”

  “I was a little freaked.”

  “Then ogling Ben in his boxers as he came hurtling over the fence-”

  “I was not ogling.” I so totally was ogling. Phwoar!

  “Then you’re standing there in his arms-”

  “He was trying to comfort me.” I was in his arms. Phwoar!

  “The cop car came screeching around the corner with sirens blaring-”

  Couldn’t argue that, so she didn’t.

  “Then you had to try and explain why you screamed and who I was and-”

  “Stop.” Flynn’s forehead dropped onto her folded arms. “We get the picture.”

  “Did you see Rocky come over?” Gram grinned, smacked her lips. “Made my granny knickers-”

  “Joy!” Linda snapped before turning her attention to Flynn. “Sit up. Your hair is almost in the butter.”

  Fort several seconds Flynn contemplated telling Gramma that hair in butter meant she had instant flossing material but doubted she’d find it as funny as Ben would, so she straightened with a sigh. “You’re right. This is all a storm in a tea cup.”

  “Speaking of cups,” Gram said. “Did you notice the way those old tighty-whitey’s hugged Rocky’s massive-”

  “Joy!” Linda yelled.

  “Gram!” Dax and Flynn yelled.

  “Geez,” said Gram. “Talk about tightly wound.”

  Giving her head a quick shake to drive all disturbing memory of Rocky in his tighty-whiteys racing across the road holding a baseball bat, Flynn stood up. “I thought we could all do some Christmas shopping, have a look around town, call in at a café for some lunch. Check out a museum or something.” She smiled brightly. “Check out a movie? There’re some great Christmas movies on at the moment.”

  “Night of the Christmas Dead?” Dax suggested.

  “Not quite what I had in mind.”

  “Sexy at Christmas?” Gram queried.

  “What?”

  “Sorry. That’s on my computer. Forget I said anything.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Flynn!” Gramma admonished.

  “Sorry. Cripes.” Flynn tossed the butter into the ‘fridge and grabbed a cold Diet Coke.

  “A little early in the morning for that, isn’t it, dear?” Gramma took a sip of her tea.

  “You’d think so, but it looks like it’s gearing up to be one of those days.” At everyone’s blank look, she popped the tab, took a deep drink, placed the can back in the ‘fridge. “Okay, I’m good to go. So let’s clean up and go, people!” Feeling better as the cold fizzy popped happily through her system, determined to forget the debacle of hours ago, Flynn dumped the dishes in the sink.

  Within half an hour they were all trooping outside. As they all squashed into her little car, Dax’s knees sticking up in the air because his legs were so long and the car so small, Flynn breathed a sigh of relief. At last something was going right.

  She was even able to ignore Archie’s sour expression as his looked up from spraying his roses for aphids or whatever else had dared to touch his precious flowers.

  Okay, that was a little unfair, he had a lovely garden and was rightly proud of it.

  Concentrating on cheerful chit-chat, her grip eased on the steering wheel as they drove to the shopping centre.

  The shopping went surprisingly well.

  Right up until she noticed her group dwindling.

  Dax was the first to disappear. She looked around and he was gone.

  “He was heading to the music place,” Gramma said. “Muttering about some Gothic Rock.”

  “Okay.” Flynn started to backtrack.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find Dax.”

  “He’s a big boy, I don’t think he needs us to hold his hand. Let’s keep wandering.”

  They wandered a bit further, got separated by a crowd of tourists, and by the time they’d passed Gramma had disappeared.

  “Wow,” said Gram. “Is the air suddenly lighter?”

  “That’s not nice, Gram.”

  Gram just grinned.

  “Where is she?” Flynn peered around.

  “Off in some dress shop, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Hey, for ninety five years she’s managed to bring her fin above water, she’ll be fine.”

  “Gramma’s only seventy four, and are you insinuating she’s a shark?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything.” At Flynn’s stare, Gram shrugged. “Hey, if the jagged teeth fit…”

  Dropping onto a nearby wooden seat, Flynn tipped her head back to study the ceiling. “What is it with you and Gramma?”

  “That sheila has no sense of humour.”

  “She does.”

  It was Gram’s turn to stare.

  “Sometimes,” Flynn mumbled.

  “The woman couldn’t tell a joke to save her life. Probably why she’s attracted to that grumpy old bloke on the other side of the fence.”

  Flynn sighed again.

  “It’s true,” Gram insisted. “You saw her circling him as soon as she spotted him.”

  “Will you stop with the shark innuendos?”

  “They’re joined at the flipper.”

  Flynn rubbed her eyes, bit her lip. Tried not to laugh at that mental picture. It was pretty funny.

  Gram perched on the edge of the wooden seat watching the crowd. Today she wore brightly flowered pants, a tank top with a bright sea shell over each saggy boob, and cat’s eye sunglasses. All sass was Gram. Lived life the way she wanted to and loved it. Had to admire that.

  “Now Rocky, he’s a man. Likes to live on the edge. Think we might get it on soon.”

  Maybe not so much admiration.

  “Is there somewhere I can buy condoms? Not that I could get pregnant, mind you, but a woman�
�s got to be careful.”

  Flynn barely suppressed a shudder.

  “Hey.” Gram poked her in the side. “Don’t be such a prude. Do I shudder at the thought of you and Ben getting it on?”

  “Gram!”

  “Geez. You must get that from Linda.”

  “I’m not a prude.”

  “In that department we’re polar opposites.”

  “You’re not a swinger, either.” Dear God, please don’t let her grandmother be a swinger.

  “How would you know?” At Flynn’s horrified expression, Gram snorted a laugh. “I wasn’t a swinger, I was faithful to your Gramps until the day he died. But that was some years ago and I’m a woman with needs.” She looked around. “Is there a sex shop nearby?”

  “You can get condoms from a chemist!”

  Several people passing glanced at Flynn. One woman pulled her little boy to her other side.

  Cripes.

  Flynn pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why not go to a chemist? Why a sex shop?”

  “I want edible condoms.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack, which is what Rocky’ll have when we try out the edible condoms.”

  “Holy cow.” Flynn closed her eyes.

  That was a mistake. When she opened her eyes, Gram had disappeared.

  “Oh for…” She stood up. “How could she disappear? I just closed my eyes for a few seconds.”

  No, definitely gone.

  Not sure what to do, she peered around. The shopping centre was huge. If she started a search she might by-pass them, and considering she didn’t have a clue where two of the three had gone that might be a bad choice. They might never find each other. Maybe she should stay put and just wait for them.

  Deciding they couldn’t possibly be long, Flynn sat down again.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  By the time half an hour had passed, she was starting to steam.

  By the time a full hour had passed, she was into a boil.

  Then she spotted a familiar purple-haired head and a sleazy black-haired head. Could it be…? As she squinted, they came nearer. Yep, that willowy body poured into a tight, very short dress, and the overly-muscled body squeezed into a tank top and red shorts with the eye-wateringly bulging crotch - that just couldn’t be real - belonged to Cousin Sally and her boyfriend, Sid. They were laughing and talking to another young couple.