by Amiee Louise
He fists his cock in his hand as I stare at him, taking every inch of him in and committing his perfect form to memory, as if I'll never see him again.
"I'll get a complex if you keep looking at me like that, beaut."
He smirks wickedly, and I bite my lip nervously. He stalks forward, until he is hovering above me on the bed.
"Don't be nervous, I'll show you how long I've waited for this moment."
He reaches down and strokes my hair.
“I’m going to make love to you, the way I should have all those years ago.”
He moves forward until he is straddling me, and I reach for his fully erect cock. I stroke it in my hand and he growls.
“Fuckkk! That feels good.”
I smile, and he throws his head back in pure ecstasy.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, stop, I’m not going to last if you carry on.”
I pull my hand free and reach over into my drawer to take out a condom. Remy cocks his eyebrow.
“Always prepared?”
He smirks, and I nod.
“You never know when a hot guy might drop by!” I say sassily, and we both laugh.
“Let me know when this hot guy drops by, I’d love to meet him.”
He winks cheekily, and he takes the condom from me, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth. He rolls it down onto his erection, and I lick my lips at the sight of his length. He is at least seven inches and the thick, angry veins running down his shaft make it a thing of beauty. He settles between my legs, and he pushes forward to enter me. As I adjust to his length, I moan softly as he moves gently in and out. The truth is, I haven’t had sex for a whole year. The last time I had sex was with Sam, before Freddie was born and before my life was turned upside down. I will myself not to think of the last time and enjoy the moment, here and now, with Remy. My childhood sweetheart, my rock, my saviour, my guardian angel.
“Oh God, beaut, you feel amazing,” he growls.
I mewl softly as he moves in and out at a painfully slow pace. This isn’t fucking, this is making love. With every thrust, he drives me higher and higher towards my orgasm.
“Rem,” I whimper, and he increases his thrusts, expertly swivelling his narrow hips. I am moaning and panting, as his pace quickens with every slow, deep drive. “Oh fuck, Remy.”
With one brisk move of his cock, I feel my orgasm explode from me.
“Fuck, Remy...Oh shit, I’m going to come!”
He pushes his cock into me to the hilt as I scream out. My orgasm floods through my whole body, making me quiver as he explodes into me at the same time.
“Let go, come with me, beaut.”
As he finds his release, he whispers “I love you.” I tangle my fingers in his long brown tresses and pull him closer to me, unable to say the three words he desperately needs to hear. I press my lips to his, and as I relish the feel of his soft lips on mine, he coaxes my mouth open and his tongue strokes mine. His kiss is so tender and so gentle it makes me want to weep. The last time he kissed me it didn’t feel this good, this...right. I need this. I need him to take away the heartbreak, the feeling of loss, the sad, miserable truth of my pathetic life. I'm returning to London after a whole year of living with this kind, beautiful, caring man in a place where the sun shines all year round. I'm trading that for the dull, cold, wet weather of Camden, London, England. The place that should be and has always been home to me. The American dream was good while it lasted, but I'll always be a London girl at heart. Home is where the heart is, right?
42
Peyton
When I wake the next morning, Remy is still sleeping next to me, and his soft snores filling the otherwise silent room. I swing my legs out of bed and pad to Freddie's nursery as quietly as I can, trying not to wake him. I don't do goodbyes, not after last night. I can’t, and I don't want to taint what we shared with the threat of goodbye.
I check on Freddie, and he is still sleeping too. I take advantage of the silence, and I use the en-suite bathroom. I shower quickly, brush my teeth, and leave my hair to dry naturally. I wrap a towel around myself and walk quietly through the house into my room. I dry off and pull on some clothes, opting for a black, white and red skull print strapless sundress. I pull my red Converse on and reach for my phone. I dial the number I need and walk out onto the deck, taking in the glorious ocean view for one last time. The early morning sun is reflecting off the turquoise ocean, creating an ethereal shimmer, as if the ocean's surface were covered in millions of diamonds.
“This better be good, honey, I was just about to be ravished by Channing Tatum!”
I laugh as Joel’s voice, thick with sleep, fills my ears.
“Good morning to you too, babe. I’m sure you can put Mr. Tatum on ice, because I need a favour, please?”
He chuckles softly.
“What can I do for you on this fine morning, honey?”
I pause before I begin to ask him.
“I need you to take me to the airport, please, Joel,” I ask him nervously, and he sighs.
“Are we losing you to London, sweet cheeks?” he says in his soft, American twang that has become familiar to me.
“I’m afraid so, babe. I’m sorry. Look, something happened between Remy and me last night. I’ll explain when I see you, but I can’t do goodbyes, Joel. I just can’t. I need you to take me and Freddie to the airport.”
I hear the creak of his bed.
“Of course. Anything for you and the little guy. Did you do the nasty with Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding?”
Joel chuckles wickedly, and I giggle girlishly at his question.
“A lady never kisses and tells!”
He snorts.
“I’ll have you singing like a fucking budgie by the time Aunty Joel is finished with you!” he says dramatically and we both laugh. “Right, honey, I’ll grab a shower, and I’ll come get you. You bet your fine ass the coffees on you though. Be ready, hugs.”
I hear the phone click off before I say goodbye, and I start to think how much I will miss the life I have become accustomed to, here in Santa Monica, and the friends I am about to leave behind. I think of the man, who is currently sound asleep in my bed, unaware that the woman he is madly, deeply in love with is about to leave him without saying goodbye. Fuck me, I’m such a bitch. It has to be this way, I can’t allow him to see me before I leave. There are too many reasons why I should stay and continue my life here. However, there are also equal reasons why I should go. One being the fact that Remy told me he loves me. I wish to God I could say it back to him, but I don’t love him the way he loves me.
I have that to explain to him, but I can’t do it in person because I’m a fucking coward. I can’t write it a letter because there’s too much I have to say. While I am inwardly warring with myself, I hear the sound of Joel’s car pull into the driveway. I rush into the nursery to grab a sleeping Freddie and our luggage. I strap him into his carrycot, trying desperately not to wake him up. I take Freddie outside and see Joel in his electric pink Chevy Camaro SS convertible. Every time I see him driving it, it makes me miss my car desperately. He is in the driver seat, wearing a white vest, sunglasses and his blonde hair is perfectly styled.
“Beep, beep bitch!” He laughs. “Your carriage awaits! If I had a hat, I’d be sure to tip it!”
He winks animatedly, and he steps out of the car to give me a hand. He takes Freddie, and I go back for the rest of my luggage. As I grab the handle of my suitcase, I look up to see Remy’s tall, looming figure, standing in the doorway. Fuck.
He is wearing only a pair of grey Calvin Klein boxer shorts, the light grey of the boxers contrasting with the bronze of his skin. He has his hands on his hips, and the look in his eyes all but breaks my heart.
“You were just going to leave, without saying goodbye?” he asks incredulously, and I shake my head.
“I’m not good with goodbyes, Rem,” I say, with a slight waver to my voice.
He hangs his head and laughs bitterly.
> “And you think I am? Fuck me! I know last night was a one-time thing, I was under no illusion that we were going to walk off into the sunset together, but I at least deserved some sort of fucking goodbye.”
A tear slips free from my eye, and I angrily swipe it away.
“This is exactly why I don’t do goodbyes, Remy.”
He stalks forward, still wearing just his boxers and he stops in front of me. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and pulls me to him, enveloping me in his arms. It takes everything I have to hold it together at the feel of his strong, familiar arms around me.
“I’m not pissed, beaut; I’m hurt, so fucking hurt. If you’re going to go, just go,” he whispers flatly in my ear.
Remy releases me from his warm embrace, and I feel bereft as the torrent of tears I’ve been holding back, burst free. He kisses my forehead tenderly, turns around, and walks away.
The twenty-minute drive to the airport is filled with my quiet, inconsolable sobs and Joel’s whispered words of sympathy and reassurance. He pulls up outside LAX, and he helps me with our luggage and Freddie, who is now wide awake and smiling his cheeky dimpled grin, reminding me so much of Sam. Joel towers over me and looks into my eyes.
"It's been an adventure, sweet cheeks, even though you weren't who I thought you were. You've been such a good friend to me, to us all."
His voice shakes, and I swallow back the lump that has formed in my throat. I'll never forget the friends I made over this past year, and I hope we'll always stay in touch. He pulls me into his arms, and I hug him tightly.
"Don't you dare cry, you'll set me off. We won't say goodbye, just...see ya later alligator. And you bet your lily-white ass, that if I'm ever in London, I'll be sure to look you up."
He pulls away and winks, with tears in his eyes.
"You'll always be welcome, babe, and thank you, for everything."
He takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
"It's been a pleasure, Peyton. I know if you could have told me you would have, and I'm sure B and Henley will understand."
He plants a kiss on the back of my hand.
"And I'll be damn sure to keep Mr Tall, Dark and Brooding warm for you!"
He winks, and we both laugh.
"Now go, before I start sobbing like a big girl! Don't be a stranger, sweet cheeks."
He kisses me gently on the lips; I pick Freddie's carrycot up and pull my luggage behind me.
"Love ya, Joel."
I blow him a kiss, and he sobs softly.
"Right back at ya, sweet stuff. Now go and don't you dare look back."
I smile to myself and walk into the airport, away from the life I’ve built for myself for the past year. I'm going back to the life I left behind, diving in at the deep end and back into the unknown.
I am settled in my seat in economy bound for Heathrow airport, London. After take-off, Freddie fell asleep, and I am sitting here contemplating what the fuck I'm going to do when I get back to London. Will I get my job back at Saint Sinner? Will the people I left behind be different with me? Will the press be waiting for me when we land in London? Those are the thoughts that linger in my already crowded mind as I drift off into a fitful sleep somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I am woken by a flight attendant, just as we’re landing at Heathrow. My stomach somersaults at the thought of being back in the U.K. I grab my hand luggage, Freddie’s carrycot, and wait until the plane is virtually empty before I start to make my way down the aisle. As I step off the plane and back onto British soil, the thought that dominates my overactive brain is, welcome back to London, Peyton. It's been a while.
43
Peyton
I hail a local taxi outside Heathrow to take me back to my old flat in Camden. The journey takes an hour, due to the rush hour traffic. As we pull up outside my flat, I pay the driver and jerk the keys that Sam gave me the last time I saw him out of my pocket. I make my way apprehensively into the building that houses my old flat. Jimmy, the doorman from Sam's old building in Greenwich, is on the concierge desk. He tips his hat, and I nod as I head for the lift. I drag my luggage and Freddie's carrycot inside. The lift stops at my floor, and I can't help thinking that something is familiar, yet so different. I walk to the door and unlock the large white reinforced door to my flat. Home. The place where I felt safe, my sanctuary, looks so… different. I push open the door; it looks as if it has been knocked into the flat next door too.
The living room is larger; the kitchen is filled with brand new state of the art appliances, including a cooker, microwave, kettle and a coffee machine. It looks so much more open and lighter. As I take in the large, empty space that was once my old flat, I break down. I let the tears that have been building up inside of me fall down my cheeks in large rivers of sorrow. I slide down the wall and onto the floor, unable to bear the weight of the sadness I feel crushing me any longer. I put my head in my hands, and I sob. I sob harder than I’ve sobbed in a long time, gut-wrenching wails of utter despair. My life as I once knew it, is gone. The clean, bare walls and the empty space that I once called home is just another shell. A cold, stark shell.
I hear a soft tap on the open door, and I look up into the shocked eyes of my neighbour, Danny Debonair, as his alter ego, Debs. He is dressed in full drag, wearing a short, red, sequinned dress, which makes his long, smooth, tanned legs look amazing and put mine to absolute shame. He has thick makeup on, smoky eyes, red lipstick, a long, thick, dark brown curly wig, perfectly manicured, blood red nails and six-inch, red glittery stilettos. He looks like a million dollars, and if I didn’t know he was a man dressed as a woman, I would genuinely think he was a real woman. His pouty red lips form a perfect 'O' shape, as he takes me in.
“Fuck me backwards, baby girl.”
His high pitched but soft voice, only makes me cry harder.
“Oh, come here.”
He sinks down to the floor next to me and pulls me into his lean arms.
“Shhh, I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright,” he soothes and strokes my hair gently.
He looks at Freddie’s carrycot on the floor next to me and cocks his perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“Fuck me, we’ve got some catching up to do.”
I look up at him and offer him a watery smile.
“I’ve missed you, Debs.” I choke out, and he cups my face in his manicured hands.
When he is in drag, he likes people to call him by his drag name.
“I’ve missed you too, so much. Now, are you going to fill Aunty Debs in on what the fuck is going on and why you look like you’ve lost a tenner and found a pound?”
He smiles softly.
“Why are you not mad, Debs?”
He strokes my hair with his hand and kisses me on the forehead.
“Because a certain little gossip whore called me and told me that you were alive! Must be those pregnancy hormones, but she couldn't wait to fill me in on all the gory details.”
He winks, and I smile. I might have known Ruby would have called him.
“It’s all such a huge fucking mess, Debs. I’ve messed up so epically, and I don’t know how I’ll ever make it right.”
I sob softly, and he shakes his head.
“I think we’re going to need something strong for this conversation, baby girl.”
He reaches into his red patent clutch bag and pulls out a bottle of vodka. He unscrews the lid and winks, offering me a sip.
“I never go anywhere without this, babe, liquid courage. It’s five-o clock somewhere in the world!”
He smiles warmly as I take a long pull on the vodka, and I relish the burn of the smooth fiery liquid as it slides down my throat, instantly warming my stomach. I offer the bottle back to Debs, and he takes it, screwing the lid back on.
“Good girl. Now come on spill, tell Aunty Debs everything. And don’t you dare bloody miss anything out.”
He winks, and I lean back against the wall. He slings his arm around me in a gesture of comfort, and I
begin to fill him in on the past year. Leaving nothing out, I start to tell him about J.D, the fucking evil, despicable things he did to me, getting away from him to protect me and my son, Remy, rebuilding my life in Santa Monica under a new identity, giving birth to Freddie, and everything that happened in between, up until I was temporarily reunited with Sam. I choose to leave out sex with Remy. That's a story for another time.
