London Calling (18 page)

Once inside, I was overwhelmed with all the feelings the week had thrown up – where Lucy was concerned, over-ridingly lust. I took her hand and hauled her up the stairs at speed, stopping only in the kitchen on the way to put the flowers in the sink. Neither of us said a word.

As the water cascaded over my fingers Lucy was right beside me and my blood plummeted down my body to where I needed it most. I drew in a short, sharp breath. Sensing this, Lucy leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth. I turned off the tap, tightened my grip on her hand and led her to the bedroom.

Once in, I threw my dressing gown off the back of the door and pressed her up against it. I slid my tongue into her mouth and felt cold metal under my fingers as I grasped for her belt. I was in a hurry and she knew it.

Within moments my fingers were buried deep inside her, slamming her up against the door. There were no pleasantries, no small talk. This is what we’d both been thinking about all week long.

“Fucking hell Jess…” Lucy said.

She stopped me so she could get out of her jeans, then took my hand and pushed it back in, looking directly into my eyes. I gulped – this was incredible. As I felt her very core I could feel her sinking deeper into me, spreading her legs as far as she could so I could take her further. I felt her body tense, her hand tighten around the back of my neck and then she threw her head back where it cracked against the door. She opened her eyes in pain and winced.

“You okay? Shall I carry on?” I said. She opened her eyes fully.

“You fucking better.” A wry smile.

A few moments later she gripped my fingers tightly, coming against me still half-clothed. I stilled my hand and held her tight, then ran my tongue up her exposed neck. She breathed out heavily. I kissed her lips and guided her to the bed.

***

Kate arrived home just as I was coming for around the fourth time that day. The clock showed 18:34 as we heard the front door slam and Kate’s footsteps come up the stairs. Lucy reached up and covered my mouth, as she travelled up my body, her tongue having done its work, her fingers now doing the talking. She kissed my inner thighs, my stomach and breasts as she ascended, finally lying down beside me just as Kate knocked on my door.

“Jess? You home? Have you managed to…”

“Yes, but don’t come in…” Too late. Kate poked her head around the door.

“I was just wondering…” she said. Her eyes widened as I pulled the covers upwards.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” she said. She was grinning as she shut the door behind her. Lucy moaned under the covers while I just laughed.

“And that’s why I’ve got my own place,” she said. “Will we be all over the front page of the Lesbian Gazette now?”

“I think we’d make a gorgeous front page if we were, don’t you?”

“Beautiful,” she said, kissing me. “But we will have to face her in a minute you know.”

“A minute? Can’t it be two? Perhaps ten?”

“Perhaps ten.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I can move right now,” I said. We kissed again and I breathed out heavily. I seemed to have been doing that a lot today.

“So that was…” I paused and cocked my head to one side. “Was that what you had in mind when you came to pick me up today?”

“It went pretty much exactly to plan.”

“I’m glad.”

“I didn’t plan to have my jeans round my ankles until around an hour into it but I’m not complaining.”

I kissed her again. I couldn’t stop. Lucy moved closer into me and I lifted my arm so she could rest her head on it.

“I missed you,” she said.

My heart lurched.

“I missed you too.”

“Your going away this weekend is terrible timing too. My cousin leaves tomorrow and then I have a whole big empty bed.”

“Can you keep it that way till I get back?”

“I dunno, there are normally hordes of women queuing up at the weekends. What’ll I tell them?”

I thought for a moment.

“Tell them… Tell them things have changed and you’re a one-woman kinda girl right now.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled.

“I should tell them that?” she said.

“Definitely.”

“Okay then, it’s decided.”

She gently ran her hand up and down my torso.

“Same goes for you too you know.”

“Hmmm?” I said, enjoying the feel of her.

“With the women. I mean, you should tell them the same.”

I grinned broadly. “You got a deal.”

“And anyway, I think it’s me who should be more worried, right? After all, you’re going to Brighton, the UK’s gay capital, while I am going to be mostly in my lounge.”

I closed my eyes, thinking I would much rather be in her lounge – I hadn’t even seen it yet.

“I might be in the gay capital but I’m there with a bunch of straight women on a hen weekend, remember? Trust me, it’s more likely men will be throwing themselves at me than women. And that’ll be fun.” I made a face and she laughed.

“I’ll just have to send you a picture of my breasts to remember me by then won’t I, just in case you fancy a change from the norm.”

I smiled at her and kissed her lips. “I think you being in my bed for the past few hours might give me a more vital memory of you. And then next week, no hens, no cousins, just us. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds perfect.”

She slipped her hand behind my head and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss. After a couple of minutes we came up for air, my senses jumbled as tended to happen with Lucy I’d noticed. She gave me a heated stare and rolled on top of me.

“Now, after I fuck you one final time, what are you cooking me for dinner?” It was official: I’d found my perfect woman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Friday arrived way sooner than I wanted and after hastily packing my weekend suitcase and getting a tube to Victoria train station, I looked around for Julia and the rest of the hen party. It didn’t take too much effort seeing as they were all already wearing feather boas that her sister and chief bridesmaid Lisa had kindly bought us. As I walked up, Lisa was also handing out train tickets, with instructions that as soon as we got on the train it was time to start drinking.

Julia gave me a massive bear hug of excitement when I arrived amid the clutter of a Friday morning. Today it was a mass of late commuters, discarded papers and perplexed tourists, their heads cocked towards the massive overhead departures board.

Once on the train, Lisa managed to commandeer two opposite tables so we could all sit together. The talk turned to other weddings and also what Tom was doing for his stag. The answer was a trip to Dublin which included paintballing and go-karting. I shook my head as I realised my two normally sane and rational friends had fallen head-first into the stag and hen traps of Dublin and Brighton.

Still, at least I wasn’t being dragged on a week to Ibiza as Lisa had first wanted and Julia had vetoed. Glitter and tack she could take no problem; clubbing till dawn was not at all her style. The conversation was in full flow on the other table when Julia leaned over to me.

“So did you see her?” She adjusted her feather boa so it sat neatly on her breasts.

“Lucy?”

“No, Wonder Woman,” Julia said. “Yes, of course Lucy.”

I nodded.

“And?”

“I did exactly as you told me and got laid.”

“Hurrah! Does that mean you’re going to be texting under the table the whole weekend?”

“Probably,” I grinned.

“Well good,” she said, squeezing my arm. “I’m just glad you didn’t blow me out to spend the weekend in bed.”

“That thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Liar,” she said. An audible pause.

“What’s that look for?”

Julia pursed her lips. “I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t think you’re going to be very happy.”

“What?” I didn’t like the sound of this.

“Well… I did try to keep it from her but it wasn’t very easy.” She paused. “The thing is, Ange is maybe turning up tomorrow night.”

I groaned and put my hands to my face.

“But only maybe.”

“And you let me get on the train…” I said.

“She… well… I’ve started working with her on a case and she’s a laugh.”

“A high-pitched laugh?”

“She’s not that bad,” Julia said. “Well anyway, I’ve been talking about the hen do and she’s down in Brighton this weekend visiting a friend, so she said to text her where we were and she’d pop in for a drink. She won’t stay all night, just for one. It’ll be fine,” she added, as much to reassure herself as me. “Anyway, we’re all adults here aren’t we? And it’s my hen do so no fighting.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be fighting. I’ll be hiding in a corner and hoping her mate isn’t too butch,” I said.

“Mind you, a dyke fight would make a good story wouldn’t it?” Julia smiled a little too gleefully.

“I can’t believe she might be coming,” I said. “This means I’m going to have to get really drunk now, you realise.”

“I would hope that was a prerequisite for the weekend anyway.”

As if on cue, Lisa stood up from the table opposite and produced a bottle of Cava, a tube of plastic wine glasses and proceeded to fill them.

 “Here’s to a great weekend girls!” she said. She held her wine glass aloft.

“Cheers!” said everyone.

And just like that, the weekend was off.

***

The hotel Lisa had booked for the occasion was on the seafront, halfway between Brighton and Hove. As was customary in Brighton, even though it was a balmy day in London, here the wind whipped around you in great galloping swirls.

Nevertheless, our rooms had curtains that swished and were comfortingly beige, decorated beyond the point of neutrality. Julia and I were paired to share and both flopped on our respective beds when we arrived, already knackered from the short train ride.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we buggered off to France for a couple of days now?” she said. Her eyes were staring at the ceiling.

“Sure it’d be fine,” I said. “So long as everyone could still get pissed.”

“Thanks, you know how to make a girl feel special.”

“You’re not the first woman to say that.” I gave her a wink.

Julia twisted herself semi-upright on the bed so she was now leaning on her right elbow, chin cupped in her right palm.

“Talking of which – I know you sorted out one lady last night, but did you do the other?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “I was sort of busy.”

Julia made a face. “Well you’re not sort of busy now.”

With that, she sprung off the bed, unzipped her suitcase and produced her laptop.

“There’s free wi-fi here, so do it now before we go out.”

I sighed heavily, to which Julia furrowed her brow.

“I’m going round the rooms in hostess fashion. I’ll be gone for at least half an hour. So start writing.”

With that, she disappeared and I was left alone with a laptop glaring at me. Sometimes I hated Julia and her ‘seize the day’ zeal.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The following morning I was back in the same bed, lying flat, feeling the spot in my hairline that was now fully blossomed. I hadn’t slept brilliantly, remembering too late that Julia snored like a navvy, especially after a bucketload of champagne. Being that it was her hen weekend I couldn’t complain but I had made a mental note to buy some earplugs today.

I plucked my phone from my bedside table and wrote Lucy a good morning text, wondering what she was doing today. Thinking of Lucy gave me goosebumps and I smiled as I pressed send. Julia turned with the grace of an elephant and squeezed open her eyes.

“Tippy tappy tippy tappy. Can you text a bit quieter please?”

“I’m a noisy texter, what can I say.”

“I’d hate to have sex with you,” she said.

“Bang go my plans for later.”

She stuck out her tongue.

“What time is it anyway?”

“Early. 8.30.”

“Oh god – what you doing awake? Apart from texting your girlfriend…”

“I get up at stupid o’clock these days, my body’s used to being up at this time.”

“Well be stricter with it. Tell it to go back to sleep.” With that she turned over and pulled the covers up over her head.

I left Julia to it, pulling on my jeans and sweatshirt as quietly as possible and heading out onto the seafront for a morning walk. A beautiful day was dawning over the south coast, the sun sitting low in the sky, gearing up for its starring role later in the day.

At close to 9am the seafront was already bristling with warmth, joggers pounding the concrete alongside pensioners with their yappy dogs. The white shelters that were scattered along the beachfront gleamed in the sunlight and the sea sparkled with energy.

As I walked along past the pier with its rundown feel, past Kemp Town which was yet to wake from its slumber and as far as the marina, I shared my thoughts with the sea.

I’d obeyed Julia yesterday and sent Karen a short, sharp email. After a week pondering I was still no closer to the perfect reply and even putting fingers to keys had brought me out in a cold sweat. I hadn’t given much away, just saying the UK was going well and if we ever did meet again, I’m sure we could be civil.

I wasn’t going to send her an invitation to visit, which I think she would partially expect. No forwarding address, no love sent back, no apology accepted. I just told Karen that coming home had been the right decision and I was happy – without her, if she read between the lines.

I strode purposefully back along the gently baking seafront, feeling the sun’s warmth tingling on my skin. I made a mental note not to bring a jacket out later as I felt the first bead of sweat trickle down my back.

Walking back past the pier I heard Punch & Judy start up their regular sparring match to a group of five enthralled kids sitting cross-legged, necks cricked upwards. I slipped down onto the seafront, walking past the bars tucked under the arches, past the deserted volleyball court, past the market stalls just setting up.

By the time I returned to the hotel it was nearly 10am and there were definite signs of life in the dining room, although none of our party were there. I patted myself on the back once more for drinking water and pacing myself last night. As I’d pointed out to Julia, it was a marathon not a sprint but she’d just told me to bore off.