Random bullets, p.11
Random Bullets, page 11
Put off by her traumatic evening with Doug, Claire had rather overdramatically begun to fear she might die a spinster. That was until James quietly infiltrated her life. After their meeting, life began to look rosier. She resolved never to disclose her experiences with Doug to her new love interest. Even she could scarcely understand why she’d acted so violently and stabbed a fork into the back of a man’s hand as though she was about to flip over a beef burger on a barbecue.
She smiled sweetly as she looked deep into James’ blue eyes that peeped from under his floppy blond fringe. All memory of her recent debacle with the ghastly groper, drunken Doug, immediately vanished. She wiped Doug from her mind and snapped back into the present.
‘So, what did you get up to at work this afternoon?’ James asked Claire. ‘What do you actually do in the advertising agency?’ He thought work would be a safe subject to discuss. Claire was looking so attractive, virginally pure, that she was making him feel tongue-tied.
‘I was painting some ugly guy in watercolours for his company’s report. I tend to handle the illustration side of any advertising work that comes in. It could be photographic, computerised, or hand-done artwork,’ she said. ‘I’ve worked there a few years, and it’s a fun company to work for, apart from my boss being a bit of a bloody ogre. I’m happy enough there, though. They’re mostly a great bunch of people.’
Her relaxed attitude, sprinkled with mild expletives gradually served to relax James. He soon discovered he was revealing personal details he usually avoided discussing.
As they finished the last morsels of their delicious meal, he said, ‘I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I live at home with my mother. She suffers from multiple sclerosis and, as dad left us both a few years ago for another woman, I feel it’s my duty to be there for her … she’s nobody else to care for her. Mum’s fairly independent, so I’m not too worried to leave her on her own tonight. She says she can cope, but I wanted to be company for her after dad moved out to be with his tart.’
‘I think that’s a wonderfully unselfish thing to do and nothing to be ashamed of. Says a lot about you.’ Claire smiled at him warmly.
‘She’s been nagging me to move out, because she doesn’t want to hold me back from making a life of my own. She’s not wheelchair-bound, but uses a stick, which she hates; mum’s always been such an independent, strong woman. Her house is near to a tube station, so it’s convenient for work. There seems no reason to move out just yet,’ James said, feeling himself blushing after hearing Claire’s kind words about him.
‘My parents are boringly normal and still happily married over in Bournemouth. Like you, I’m an only child and they’ve spoilt me rotten,’ she said.
‘You don’t come across in the least bit spoilt, I’m delighted to say,’ said James. ‘Can’t stand princesses.’
They’d swapped over to drinking red wine after their thirst had been quenched. He was feeling pleasantly mellow as a light breeze wafted through their matching fair hair. As he gazed at Claire, he felt a strong urge to kiss her, but knew kissing her would be pushing his luck too far. Their conversation flowed easily as they talked about their past lives, but at the back of his mind, he was pondering how he should act at the end of the night.
He looked at the pale slick of pink lip gloss on her perfect mouth. Can I risk giving her a quick kiss on the lips before we set off for our respective homes?
She caught him staring at her lips; being perceptive, she knew just what he was thinking.
As their perfect evening was drawing to an end, it was Claire who slightly raised her head and kissed James as his tube arrived at the platform. A warm feeling flooded through her, as she watched his smiling face as he waved her goodbye from inside the airless tube which then swallowed him up inside the dark tunnel. She seemed to be floating on air as she walked to the opposite platform to wait for her tube to arrive.
She normally felt disgusted by all the dead skin floating around in the underground for her to inhale, but her mind was too occupied with thoughts of her magical evening with James to be depressed and disgusted by her surroundings. His lips felt so soft and warm. Can’t wait for tomorrow when I can see him again, she thought, as she cannoned her way through the rattling dark tunnels towards her small cosy flat in Camden. Wish James had been bold enough to ask me for my mobile number. I’d have loved to receive a text from him while I lie in bed. Bet he sends the most wonderfully soppy texts. No way I’d ever offer my number to him without him asking me for it. Hope he works up the courage to ask me for it tomorrow. Please, weather, be dry tomorrow lunchtime.
As Claire looked through her bedroom curtains the next morning, she was relieved to find the sun was beating down with barely a cloud in the blue sky. Perfect conditions. She set off to shower. Refreshed, she slid a sleeveless light blue, loosely fitting dress over her slim body, then slipped some flat, blue, open-toed sandals onto her bare feet. Her damp hair dripped onto her thin dress as she ate her cereal. It’ll soon be dry in this heat. She took extra care with her makeup that morning, and squirted her favourite perfume onto her slender wrists and neck. He’ll love this smell.
Over in his Battersea home, James’ mother said, ‘You’re looking extra smart today. You smell nice too. I reckon there’s a female involved somewhere.’
‘Oh, shut up, mum. You’re making me cringe,’ James said affectionately. ‘Actually, I did meet a great girl yesterday in the park near work. She works up the road from me. We got on really well when we went for a meal last night.’
‘Hope that was gravy on your shirt and nothing more revolting.’ His mother had noticed a brown stain on his shirtfront when he’d placed it inside the washing machine that morning.
‘Yes, it was my overenthusiastic eating of steak and ale pie. Claire was so sweet; she never even mentioned the splodge to me. I was mortified when I looked in the bathroom mirror last night. Squirted some stain remover on it. I’ll wash it tonight.’
‘I’m sure I can manage to switch the washing machine on. I’m not completely useless.’ His mother felt useless most of the time.
‘Up to you mum.’ James grabbed the pack of sandwiches he’d made, plus a bottle of still mineral water. He stuffed them into a carrier bag, lightly kissed the top of his mother’s greying head, then shot out of the door to work. ‘Might be back late. It all depends on how it goes with Claire.’
‘That’s my boy!’ she yelled after him with a giggle.
Although the young couple eagerly looked out for each other on the way into work, they were disappointed not to bump into one other. The morning dragged, but eventually lunchtime arrived, brimming over with promise. They’d agreed to meet at one o’clock at the same bench they’d sat on the previous day.
Damn it, the bench’s already taken, thought James, who’d been clockwatching all morning. Claire was nowhere to be seen. He anxiously looked around the park in case she was sitting elsewhere. He walked to the closest empty bench, perched nervously on it and waited in a nervous sweat.
Oh, God, maybe she’s changed her mind and wants to avoid me. He scolded himself for being overdramatic.
Sure enough, five minutes later, he saw a smiling Claire enter the park through the wrought iron gateway, looking like a blonde angel entering through the Gates of Heaven. He smiled broadly and waved.
‘Sorry I’m late, but I had to finish off an airbrush illustration. The joys of deadlines,’ she said apologetically, sitting demurely next to him on the bench. ‘You smell edible, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Must be my new aftershave. If we’re handing out compliments, so do you … Issey Miyake? Yes, I thought so. That’s a lovely dress, too.’
‘Enough! Enough! We sound like a mutual appreciation society,’ Claire joked, as she unwrapped her shop-bought pack of sandwiches. ‘They’re egg and bacon, my favourite.’
‘Don’t make me jealous. Mine are home-made cheese and pickle. This time, I’ll try not to drip pickle on my shirt like I did last night.’
‘Oh, you noticed it then. Didn’t like to mention it last night.’ Claire laughed. They chatted in the sunshine, nibbling their sandwiches and glugging bottled water.
‘Don’t like the look of those big black clouds drifting this way.’ Claire pointed to their threatening trajectory across the sky.
The weather had been unusually warm all week, with a close, thundery feel in the air. They ignored the smattering of large plops of rain and the rumbles of thunder, because they wanted to continue their chat. They were so engrossed with each other, they failed to notice the other people were scurrying away from the park. By the time the downpour arrived, it was too late for the couple to escape from the park without getting drenched, so they huddled under a spreading tree.
‘Is it safe to be under a tree when there’s a possibility of lightning?’ Claire said, soaked to the skin.
‘There’s only thunder so far, so don’t tempt fate.’ James had other things on his mind than being killed by lightning.
Claire’s skin was clearly visible through her dress material. He had no problem getting a drenching if it meant he could enjoy such a glorious, unexpected view. As they huddled under the tree, waiting for the worst of the shower to disperse, he bravely bent down and kissed her glossy lips, long and hard. He could feel her smiling with pleasure as they kissed, their tongues exploring the secrets of each other’s mouths. It was not the most practical place for their passion to ignite, but ignite it did.
Once they’d come up for air, Claire whispered, ‘I feel like we’re castaways on a tropical island. Everyone else has wisely legged it from the park.’
They instinctively moved around the thick trunk of the tree to stand on the side furthest from the distant street, seeking a more private hiding place. As the deluge of water fell on them, he ran his hands up her bare, wet thighs, expecting to meet resistance at any moment; it never came.
She knew her inviting response to his seduction was very different to her fork in the hand reaction to Doug, two weeks earlier. The crucial difference was, she desperately wanted James.
As the thunder crashed around them, Claire leant submissively against the rough bark of the tree trunk as he looked deep into her eyes and slid her dress up above her waist. She moaned and sighed as his fingers ran freely over her body.
Almost on cue, the thunder and rain died away. As they waited until the brief shower ended, they looked at each other and laughed with a tinge of embarrassment over what they’d just done.
‘You don’t think anyone saw us, do you?’ she said, pulling her dress back down and looking around the park as though waking from a dream.
‘It’s a bit late to worry about that, but I’m pretty sure nobody saw us. You shouldn’t look so gorgeous. It’s totally your fault. Couldn’t resist you … that’s not usually like me,’ James said, wondering where this bold man had suddenly sprung from, one bold enough to indulge in public heavy petting with a girl he’d only dated once. He usually worked much slower with women. Must’ve been the influence of all the electricity in the air or something. Whatever it was, I liked it. His heart raced deliciously as he remembered how her body felt.
‘It was wonderful and let me assure you, I don’t normally go in for performing sex acts in public either. It felt like I was in the middle of some gothic fantasy movie. Heaven knows where it would’ve all ended if the sun hadn’t come out as suddenly as it’d disappeared,’ she said as they walked back to the damp bench.
‘That’s British weather for you. Thank you, British weather! You played a blinder!’ James exclaimed loudly, not caring who heard him. He was giddy with happiness. ‘We might as well sit on the bench as we’re both soaked through.’
Claire looked down at the front of her dress and gasped. ‘Oops! Never realised this dress turns transparent when wet. Mind you, I’m glad it does, so long as it’s only you who’s looking. What a mind-blowing experience … I’ll never forget it.’
‘Simply got to see you this evening after work. Are you free? What’s your mobile number?’ James said. They were all too aware their action-packed lunch hour would sadly soon be over.
‘Yes, I’m free again tonight, although I can’t promise sex in a thunderstorm again.’ She grabbed his mobile and deftly tapped her phone number into it. ‘There’s a great bistro near me. We could go there if you like.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ James smiled as he realised that if the bistro was near her flat, there’d be a good chance he’d be spending the night in Claire’s bed.
They headed back to their offices, with Claire self-consciously trying to hide her body, which was still visible through her wet dress. Her awkward embarrassment made James chuckle, until Claire punched his arm playfully to quieten his laughter. They briefly kissed before Claire walked up the steps to her office.
Once inside his workplace, James sent a text to his mother. ‘Mightn’t be home tonight. Got a date. Are you well enough to be left alone?’
‘Don’t be soft. Of course, I’ll be fine. Don’t feel too bad today. Enjoy yourself xxx,’ his mother texted back.
‘Oh … I intend to,’ James thought, wondering if steam was rising from his wet clothes as he sat at his desk reading a disappointing manuscript from an aspiring young writer.
James and Claire watched their office clocks even more avidly that afternoon. Texts were zooming to and fro between them, mostly referring to their thrills under the tree. They both managed to quit work early and rushed out of their buildings, meeting halfway on the busy pavement. With a brief kiss, they dashed down the stairs to the underground station and caught the tube to Camden. James was disappointed to see that her dress had dried out.
They decided not to bother heading for the bistro, but rushed immediately to her small flat. Without any discussion, as soon as the door closed behind them, they headed for her bedroom, grabbing a couple of glasses of red wine to take in there with them. They ignored the wine, so great was their haste to finish what they’d started under the dripping leaves in the park.
‘Really need some of that wine,’ she eventually said, clambering off the bed and padding across the carpet to retrieve the glasses. They sat naked on the bed and sipped it, chatting contentedly as if they’d known each other for years. By the time that they’d finished it, James wanted her again, much to Claire’s surprise and obvious delight. I seem to have bagged a sexual athlete, she thought, as James expertly flipped her over onto all fours.
They suddenly realised how ravenously hungry they were, but this time it was for food. ‘I know I mentioned we should eat at the bistro, but not sure I feel up to getting dressed up again to go out. I’m exhausted, but very, very happy. Fancy a takeaway? There’s a great Indian restaurant I know who deliver. I’ll give them a ring if you like, unless you prefer Chinese?’ Even ringing the takeaway restaurant felt like too much of an effort for her.
‘Indian food’s perfectly fine by me. I’ll eat anything,’ he said with a wink. James was feeling lightheaded from so much unaccustomed sexual activity and lack of food.
They slowly pulled their clothes back on. While James sat in her living room, Claire rang through their food order with the Indian takeaway, then made two welcome mugs of tea in the galley kitchen at the end of her living room. She switched on her iPad in its docking bay and switched it to shuffle, hoping her new lover would approve of her music library selection. The comic tones of ‘Yes, we have no bananas,’ a tune from the distant past, boomed out.
‘What the devil’s that?’ James said in mock horror, as Claire doubled up with laughter.
‘It’s a long story. I bought that song on iTunes to make a Vine; one of my little hobbies.’ Claire rapidly switched the iPad from shuffle to a safer U2 album. ‘That’s better, unless you have an aversion to U2 of course.’
‘U2’s fine. ‘Yes, we have no bananas’ would’ve been fine by me too. My music tastes are varied,’ James said.
They chatted easily as they enjoyed their Indian meal, all barriers down. James stayed the night, after double-checking that his mother was feeling well enough for him to sleep at Claire’s. In the morning, they made love again, showered together and set off for work. It was a far more rewarding journey than usual; for once they were travelling together to their offices situated so conveniently close to one another.
Without having to state the fact, both parties knew they wanted this new relationship to progress and endure. There were no troublesome exes to contend with, nor interest from prospective rival lovers, so the way was clear to be happy ever after. His mother was extremely understanding, even eager, for her son to move into a new flat with Claire.
With them both being in well-paid jobs, James and Claire rented a bijou, neat flat near to where James had lived with his mother, so the invalid never lost his valuable support. She appreciated Claire’s easy, open personality and was delighted when the young couple announced their engagement. The flat was more convenient for Claire, as it was much closer to work than her old place in Camden.
They enjoyed a more exciting social life as a couple than they’d ever experienced as singletons. They ate out at the plethora of London restaurants, leapt around at music venues, travelled to music festivals and spent idyllic holidays in Ibiza and Kos.
Over eighteen months later, Claire was surprised to discover she’d accidentally fallen pregnant. At first, Claire and James were shocked. They worried that a baby might not be a wise idea when both wages were needed to pay the mortgage. After much discussion, they worked out a plan. Claire would work freelance from home, because her illustration skills were sufficiently in demand for her to command a high fee for her work.
‘My boss says she’ll still use me when I’m settled into a routine with the baby. If we squirrel away money each month until I’m ready to pop, we should survive for a few months, until I can spare the time away from the baby to start illustrating again. I can use the spare room as my studio as well as the nursery. It’ll be a squeeze, financially and space-wise, but needs must. We can postpone the wedding for a while until we can afford it. The baby comes first, when it eventually arrives. I’m only a couple of months pregnant, so we’ve got a few months to tighten our belts. Dare say my belt will be left in the wardrobe once my bump expands,’ Claire said as James nodded.
