Another Summer (8 page)

The inn was packed when Evie got there.  Local Goths and surfer dudes mixed with old hippies and trendy types from town.  The stage had been built in a new extension but it was still her honeymoon inn and it was weird being back there.

She’d fallen in love with Joe there and had believed they were going to live happily ever after.  And now, here she was meeting Jake.  Was she out of her mind?  She didn’t even know what to call it, whatever it was she was doing.

Hardly a love affair.  Not yet anyway.  And hardly likely to become one, when they only had a week.  It could be nothing but a passing moment, nothing to do with reality.  But how she wanted that one perfect week.  And if she was going to behave like a different person, at least she looked the part.

The corset felt like fancy dress, the perfect disguise to hide behind, although it was straining to contain her boobs.  But when it got the attention of the overworked barman, she was pleased she’d been brave enough to abandon her everyday clothes.

She was nervous and wanted a vodka but made do with tonic and lime as she’d promised to drive Jake home.  She may be sleep deprived but she wasn’t deluded.  She knew the evening wasn’t going to end with a peck on the cheek but she’d stopped being shocked by how much she wanted that.

She wondered where he was.  Was she meant to hang about until he spotted her?  Which wouldn’t be easy in this crowd.  It seemed the band had quite a following.  Their logo, Morgan Run was daubed like graffiti on the drum kit and a fair number of T-shirts.  There was a buzz of anticipation and she hoped they were as good as Jake obviously believed. 

As she squeezed her way to the front, the lights dimmed and the cheers tingled up her spine.  The first three on stage were a lethal combination of looks and swagger.  But when Jake strode out, he nudged them into a different league.

His skinny black jeans were sprayed on the muscles of his thighs, his white shirt fastened by a single button at the waist.  His cuffs were undone, wafting in the lights as he caressed the saxophone, eyes closed against the glare.

Then he sang solo and a hush fell over the crowd as he stood alone in the spotlight, his gentle voice haunting in the rustling silence.  He seemed lost in some rapturous world away from the noise and the drunken adoration.  Evie stood transfixed by his mouth and the thought of what it was going to do.

He played again, the most poignant saxophone blues she’d ever heard.  She wanted him so much she could barely breathe and she ached to reach out and touch him.  He opened his eyes and looked into her soul.  Then he smiled, just once, before he disappeared.

She felt dizzy and tried to laugh at herself.  What was she, sixteen again?  It was only a song and he was a performer.  He got paid to make people feel like that.  But she still wanted him.  It was a terrifying cocktail of guilt and excitement.

She made for the ladies.  But the corridor was crammed with gorgeous young girls, all tanned in tight little dresses.  A sudden commotion and there he was, basking in the attention.  Still playing to the audience, he tugged on the ends of a towel he’d slung around his neck.  The white shirt was damp, clinging to the honed contours of his chest.

“Jake, you didn’t call.”

“Sorry babe, been busy.”

“Can I have a photo, Jake?”

“And me?”

God!  She needed a drink.  And the spiky shoes were killing her.  But she was trapped in the crowd and had to stand there and watch as he was grabbed by two insistent blondes.

His hand dangled against one girl’s breast as she snuggled into him, kissing his cheek for the photo.  He grinned down at her top, so tight it was almost transparent, as the other girl’s hand made a play for the button on his jeans.

Evie shrank back into the shadows.  He could have any of those girls on a plate.  Probably already had.  And here she was, doing nothing to resist while he reeled her in like a fish on a hook.  What must he think of her?

She made it to the ladies and wished she hadn’t bothered when the harsh lighting did nothing for her confidence.  She looked every year of her age.  And she’d been drooling so much she’d licked off all her lipstick.  Who was she trying to kid?

“Why are you hiding in here?”

He leaned against the door, arms folded, legs crossed in a rock-star pose of arrogant amusement.  Wishful thinking, she reminded herself.  He hadn’t made the big-time yet.  But it took major concentration to get the top on her lip gloss and back into her bag.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?”

He leaned closer, trapping her with a proprietary arm on the wall.  She could smell the maleness of him.  Could see the beads of sweat still clinging to his skin.

“Don’t mind about that shit.  Goes with the territory.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one!”

“Only if I get lucky with you.”

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it?  I’m not some toy you haven’t played with yet.  If I had any sense, I wouldn’t still be here.”

“Yet here you all, all sexy and mad.  And I’m loving the outfit.”

He was sizing up her boobs.  She wanted to cry with anger and embarrassment as she tugged at the edges of the sheer lace jacket.  Damn it!  What had possessed her to buy the thing?  It was clearly a size too small.

He brushed his hand over hers, his fingers trailing deliberately over the swell of her breast.  She closed her eyes, knowing she was being played.  But she missed her chance to walk away. 

“I have to play another set.  You’ll wait, yeah?”

Wait for what, she wondered.  More humiliation?  She’d had a lifetime of that already.  What was so different about Jake?  But she only had to look at him to see that.  

Twenty minutes?” he coaxed, a finger brushing her cheek.  “You promised me a lift.”

Then he kissed her, sealing the deal with challenging persuasion.  The kiss deepened into a spark of promise.  When she opened her eyes, he was gone and she knew she wouldn’t be leaving without him.

After another storming set, he came out looking for her.  He had a bottle in his hand and he wanted to drive.

“Look, water.  Not very rock and roll, I admit, but I never drink when I’m playing.”

She wished she’d had that vodka as she settled into the passenger seat, acutely aware of Jake’s hand on the gears beside her thigh.  They’d opened all the windows but it was still stifling, the air heavy with the threat of rain.  Robert Plant’s vocals scorched around the car.

“This is a great track.  Smacks you right in the gut.  I’d never have pegged you as a Led Zeppelin fan.”

“It’s my husband’s CD.  Have it, if you want?”

“I’d have his voice.  Who else can sing like that?”

“I thought you were pretty good.”

“Good enough for a contract and a shed load of money?  That’s what Ibiza’s about, a showcase.  Only five more days.  I can’t wait.”

She closed her eyes.  Didn’t want to think about him leaving.

“Can you believe this heat?” she sighed.  “There’s going to be a storm.”

“Not yet, though.  There’s time for a walk on the beach.”

“In these heels?”

“So, take them off?”

He was already turning off the road, tyres crunching onto the verge by a gap in the arching hedge.  There were dunes and rocks.  Then lovely damp sand for her aching feet.  He grabbed her hand and started running towards the froth of the midnight sea.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Is that a bet?”

The water was icy.  She gasped but he held her firm from behind, nuzzling the back of her neck.

“You’re looking good, babe.”

She laughed.  “Half drowned, you mean?”

“Don’t tempt me!”

She ran out and he caught her, hooking his foot round her ankle.  They kissed as they fell onto their knees, half laughing but greedy for each other.  His thumbs found her nipples, stroking them free of the corset.  They peaked at once.  Her whole body was aflame.

“Either you’re liking that, Mrs Marsh, or it’s the cold sea air.  You want more?” he teased.  “Like this?”

His mouth was feasting on her nipples, her neck, her mouth.  His fingers were twisting some magic into her hair.  When he placed her hand on his jeans, he was rock hard. 

“You want me to come in my jeans?  You up for this?”

“You mean now, on the beach?”

But the crack of thunder decided for them.  They were drenched in seconds.

“Bloody hell!” he laughed, wiping his face.  “Talk about a cold shower.”

They ran back up to the car.  He took off his shirt, dried his face and passed it to her.  She almost drowned in the smell of him.

“You are one sexy woman,” he groaned.

He circled her waist, squeezing up her ribcage until her breasts spilled over the cups of her corset.  She was shocked at herself leaving everything bare for his eyes to feast on.  But she wanted him to touch her again.  Ached for his mouth.  Yes, like that.

“Car’s nice and dry?”

She felt breathless, excited and terrified of her inability to resist him.  What was happening to her?  She’d almost had sex on a public beach.  But the car was parked on the road.  She moved his hand, kissed it as she adjusted her clothes.

“A nice dry bed will be better.”

“Spoilsport!”

But he pulled on his shirt and started the engine, sliding into gear, just as a car passed by and pinned them in the glare of its unforgiving beam.

In only minutes, the rain was so fierce it slashed across the windscreen.  The wipers were hopeless but Jake was confident at the wheel, frowning in silent concentration as the headlights sliced through the darkness.

Relieved she’d let him drive, she closed her eyes and imagined the night ahead.  Would he tease her with his hands and tongue?  Or would he be quick the first time, too eager to wait?  What would he feel like inside her?  She’d never had anyone but Joe.

The morning after the Drydens’ party, Evie was sure she was going to die.  Her mouth tasted foul, almost furry.  Why had she drunk so much champagne?  She’d let Joe undo her clothes, touch her, do things!  And then she’d thrown up all over his shoes.  She prayed she wouldn’t have to see him again for the rest of her life.

“Feeling a bit fragile?”

“You?  Why are you creeping up on me?  Go away!”

She was horrified to see him on the beach.  She’d only come down for fresh air to try and clear her head.  But he sat down next to her on the rock and tried to share his can of coke.  The thought of it had her stomach heaving.

“Hey, you’re not crying?”

She turned away, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her old purple cardigan.  Had he come down there just to laugh at her and make her feel even worse?  But out of the blue, he gave her a hug.

“Sorry about last night.  I should have warned you champagne can be lethal.  I wish you wouldn’t cry.”

His warm hand on her waist was disturbing.  Afraid her breath might be horrible, she took a gulp from his can.  Then she remembered the old clothes and the smudged remains of last night’s make-up.  But it didn’t seem to be bothering him.

“I know you’re a virgin but don’t worry about that.  It’ll be fine.”

She cringed, too mortified to ask him what he meant.  She took a deep breath and managed to stop crying.  She looked enough of a wreck without making it worse.  He kissed her on the cheek but she was too embarrassed to even look at him.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

She shuddered.  “Can’t even think about food.”

“Trust me, you’ll feel better.  I stole it from the Drydens so it’s bound to be good.”

She hadn’t noticed the droopy wicker hamper.  He’d packed bacon rolls wrapped in foil, a flask of tea, a couple of ripe peaches.  When they’d finished and she’d rallied a bit, he chucked a ball of foil back into the hamper.  

“I heard your grandmother’s going to the wedding?  Thought you might want some company while she’s away?”

Her stomach flipped.  “Aren’t you going?  I thought that was why you were here?”

“Me?  I don’t know any of them, apart from Steve.  I had other reasons for wanting to get away from York.  So, should I come over to yours on Saturday night?”

“She’ll actually be leaving on Friday, taking the extra night so it won’t be such a rush for her.”

“So, it’s a date then, yeah?”

He didn’t seem to need a reply.  He just kissed her cheek again, packed up the hamper and left her.  By the end of the week she was sick with nerves.  What if he didn’t show up?  What if he did?  He hadn’t even said which night he meant or what exactly he was expecting them to do.

He surprised her on Friday afternoon.  She looked up from making a sandwich, saw him watching her and almost cut off her finger.

“You couldn’t make me one of those?  It’s scorching outside.  Let’s have them on the grass.”

He sat cross legged, his jeans fraying over bare feet as they ate their picnic.  He’d brought cider, so cold she could feel it bounce off the top of her head.  She was nervous and knocked it back.

“Nice garden,” he said.  “But I wouldn’t fancy being stuck here for weeks.  Bet you can’t wait to get home to Newcastle?  What will you be doing after the summer?”

“Everybody’s hassling me to make plans.  It’s kind of assumed I’ll go into teaching like my gran and my dad.  But I’m not that keen.”

She didn’t want to remind him she hadn’t even done her A-levels yet.

“It’s your life, you have to do what you want.  I  never knew my dad but I’m sure he wouldn’t want me down the pit like him, even if it was still up and running.  In the meantime, I’m not rich boy Steve.  I’ll be heading back to York to get a job before the next lot of students can start cherry-picking.”

“But not yet?”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  She was just starting to relax with him and he was the only person who’d been on her side over the teaching thing.  And she’d never known anyone who looked like him.  His T-shirt clung to his chest.  She wished he’d take it off.  She wanted to look at him properly.  To touch him.

“No, I won’t be going quite yet.”

Like the other day, the cider had gone straight to her head.  She put down the bottle and lay down in the grass, so cool against her hot skin.  He lay down beside her and kissed her.  She closed her eyes.  Was it always so lovely when you kissed people?

She felt his lips on her shoulder, pushing aside her red top.  Then her bra strap was slipping down her arm and his mouth was on her breast, his tongue on her nipple which was somehow bare and waiting.  She couldn’t speak as he took off her top and her bra, stopping her trying to cover herself by holding onto her hands.

“Don’t you know how lovely you are?”

His free hand traced across her breasts, teasing her nipples into aching peaks until her insides flipped over.

“Feel what you’re doing to me.”

She didn’t think she was doing anything but when he cupped her bottom and pulled her against him, she could feel the hardness in his jeans.  She rubbed herself against him, making him moan in pleasure as his hand slid up her leg and inside her pants.

His fingers probed, toying with the wetness she hadn’t known was there.  She could hardly breathe as she felt herself gather around him.  He pulled her denim shorts down, kissing his way down her belly.  Kissing there.  She jumped.  Hadn’t known he would do that.  Hadn’t expected the tremors, the heat.

His clothes were off.  How had he managed to do that?  She couldn’t focus on anything but his fingers.  On her fingers, now round him as he slid up and down in her hand, getting bigger and harder.

“You’re okay?” he groaned.  “You’re sorted, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply and she could only gasp as he clutched her knees and pushed himself into her.  He was big.  Scared she would tear, she tensed a bit, her fingers digging into his shoulders.  But as he moved, slowly at first, she opened herself, raised her knees to take him in, wrapped her legs around him and found herself matching his rhythm until a hot wave started to build. 

She lifted her hips, opened her legs to take more of him but just as she started to sense a peak, he grunted and collapsed on top of her, panting for breath.

“Baby, wow!  That was something else.”

“It was?”  She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question.

“Your first time.  Don’t worry.  You’ll get better.”

She wondered what she hadn’t done, why she felt so flat and disappointed.  She got up onto her knees and reached for her clothes but he was quicker, tossing them aside.

“No, you don’t.  I like looking at you.”  He pushed himself up onto his hands, taking a drink from the bottle as his eyes scanned over her naked body.  “You are fucking gorgeous, do you know that?”

Feeling wet and uncomfortable, she tried to stop thinking about covering herself up and took her first real chance to look at him.  She was fascinated by the way he was all soft now, flopping onto his thigh.  It had been so big, so hard only a minute ago.  Without thinking, she ran a finger over him.  He quickened at once.  Kissed her.

“You want to go again?  Give me a minute.”

The sun was relentless as they faced each other, still on their knees in the grass.  She watched him rolling her nipples until they were swollen and aching for his mouth.  She saw his fingers slide inside her, round and round, his thumb doing something magic until at last she fell back, gasping at the wave.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

She felt buoyant, subtly altered, as if every atom had been scrambled then re-assembled.  She wanted to thank him.  But he was already inside her riding his own wave.

“I’m glad it was you,” she said later.  “My first time, I mean.”

“Me too.”

They did it again, during the night in the big old bed, their clothes tossed carelessly onto the floor.  As she drifted into the glow of sleep, she wondered if this was how it felt to fall in love with someone.  If it were possible for the loving to keep on getting better every time.  She didn’t realise it was already over.