by Lesley Jones
“No one’s saying you’re gay, baby. She just wants to kiss you. D’ya want her to kiss you? Don’t think about it. Just go with what you feel.”
He pulls me to sit between his legs, and I lean back against his chest. I turn my head and look up at him.
“I want her to kiss me.”
What the fuck? Where did that come from? I close my eyes in embarrassment. It’s not really that I want her to kiss me. I just have this strange desire to know what it feels like.
“See, just doing, not thinking, sometimes it’s good, Georgia. Like I keep telling ya, just go with it.” I open my eyes and look at him. My inhibitions have gone, all of them, floating away on the waves and swept out into the Pacific Ocean. I feel in control but out of control. He kisses me gently on the mouth, cupping my jaw in his big hand. “Don’t do anything you don’t wanna do; just go with it, baby. I’m here and I’ll keep you safe.”
He leans back on the blanket we’ve been sitting on, then pulls me down next to him; he leans over and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck as his hand travels from my hip, up my side, his thumb resting and rubbing over my nipple. He pulls away, pushes himself up on one elbow and looks down at me. I’m flat on my back now looking up at him, and I feel like I’m floating. Skye is on the other side of me, her fingers gently brushing over my cheek and my lips. She looks up at Roman.
“She’s so beautiful.”
“I know,” he whispers and looks back down at me. Desire spikes through me; I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I’ve never been attracted to another woman, and I don’t even think I am now, but I’m here and it’s on offer. I just want to see what it’s like. Just a kiss, just one kiss. Her mouth comes down softly onto mine, and she tastes sweet, like cherry Chapstick. Her lips are so soft, and I’m completely still at first while she moves her mouth over mine. Her tongue flicks out and runs along the seam of my lips, then pushes in; her mouth is firm but gentle, forceful but not at all rough. I open mine and our tongues tangle for a few seconds until she pulls away. Her eyes look down my body, and I move mine to meet Roman’s. He gives a small smile and runs the backs of his knuckles over my cheek.
“You okay, baby?” I nod. “Feeling horny?” Am I that obvious? I nod, and he gives a little chuckle. “Shall we head inside? Go to Skye’s room? Don’t think, just answer.” I nod instantly, and he leans in and kisses me gently on the mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers.
Skye stands without saying a word. Roman pulls me up and my head spins; everything is still glowing silver, and for a few seconds, I have a strange fascination with my own hand. Roman grabs the hand that’s not silver and sparkly and we head inside the huge house.
The house is noisy as we walk through; the sounds of music, talking and laughter are distorted, sounding almost like they are in slow motion. I look down at my feet, making sure they are connecting to the floor as I hold on to Roman’s hand, as we head up some stairs and towards the back of the house, which overlooks the beach.
Roman leads me into a room, which has a soft, reddish glow to it. There is a large bed with voile drapes hanging around it from a canopy in reds and oranges, and there are posters on the wall of naked men and women. I stare for a few seconds, as they seem to be moving. There’s more voile covering a set of timber doors that open onto a balcony; the doors are open and the sheer fabric is blowing into the room. It looks stunning, ethereal. I reach out my hand to touch the fabric, but it’s further away than I think so I move towards the doors. Roman grips my hand.
“Hold my hand tight, baby; it’s not safe out there while you’re like this. D’ya understand me? Don’t let go of my hand, Georgia.” I nod my head and follow him out onto the balcony.
The view is spectacular. If only I could take a picture of what I could see. The water is silver, with a rainbow of colours bouncing from its surface; every person on the beach has a silvery glow coming from them. I turn to Roman.
“I’m totally off my nut.” He throws his head back and laughs loudly, and out of nowhere, Cam pops into my head. Cam and his big laugh; Cam, my Tiger. I feel a little tug at my heart. I brush it aside, put it away to think about when I’m not so fucked-up, but it won’t stop. My heart feels a little strange because of the images I have in my head; Cam and his twirling chair, his desk, his office, the way he took control, the way I didn’t have to think, the way he called me Kitten.
“I miss Cam.” Roman turns and looks at me.
“Who’s Cam?” I try to focus as I look at him; everything I look at pulses with colour, and it’s hard to concentrate or focus on any one thing. “Who’s Cam?” he repeats.
“Cam, my Tiger. He saved me, you know, when Sean fucked around with Whorely. Cam saved me. He saved me from me, and I loved him but I didn’t. I didn’t get it; everything in my head was messed-up, but he helped fix me and I loved him. I think I still do.” I frown and tilt my head as I try to focus on Roman’s eyes. “Can you love two people at the same time? Can you truly love someone with everything you are but still love someone else, still fuck someone else behind their back, because you love them too? Is that possible, Rome? Can that happen?” I sway as I look at him. I don’t know his reaction to what I’ve just said because his face is just a blur to me now, and to be honest, I can’t even remember what it is I’ve just told him. He says something but his words are distorted, and I think I just laugh. He pulls me in for a kiss, then leads me back into the bedroom and over to the bed. I sit on the edge as he kneels in front of me.
“Where’s Skye?” I ask.
“She’s taking a shower. Nothing has to happen here, okay. I want you to know that. If you don’t wanna do anything, then don’t.” I reach out and gently touch his lips with my fingertips. “You touch her and I’ll fucking kill you.”
He shakes his head and laughs.
Cam.
Again.
Cam’s in my head again. Why, why is he here, why now?
“Hey, this is for you, baby, all for you. I have no interest in Skye, believe me; I just want to make you happy. I want this to be all about you.” I nod my head at him, not sure whether that’s the right gesture, but I do it anyway. He pulls off my flip flops and pushes me back on the bed; my skirt has an elasticated waist, and he pulls that down and off my body. He sits back on his heels and looks at me. “You are so fucking beautiful, Georgia; so fucking beautiful.” He leans in and kisses me, right over my clit through my silky knickers. I bend my knees, bring my feet up to the bed and open my legs wider; his hot breath between my legs is driving me insane, and I desperately want him inside me. He pulls away and stands up, pulls off his T-shirt and unbuckles his jeans, sliding out of them and his boxers at the same time. I attempt to take off my top, but my co-ordination isn’t great so he does it for me.
Skye comes out of the adjoining bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. She’s carrying a tray and puts it on the bedside table; it has three lines of coke on it.
“You okay with this, George?” Roman asks. I’m in a strange woman’s bedroom, almost naked, and I have God knows what drugs floating around my system. I’m probably about to embark on my first-ever threesome, and he’s asking me if I’m okay with a line of Charlie? I smile at the pair of them.
“I,” I say to anyone who wants to listen, “I’m just fine and dandy. Bring it on; whatever you’ve got, bring it.” Roman looks at me with a frown and brings the tray over to the bed. We take turns vacuuming up the white powder, and my heart rate instantly accelerates. Something inside my head is screaming at me to stop; this is wrong, it’s too much, too much drink, too many drugs, too much sex and it’s all too soon, but I carry on regardless. I want to be brave and I want to be fearless. I’m sick of being scared of life and whatever shit it has left to throw at me; nothing can hurt me more than losing Sean and Beau. So bring it on. Let’s do this shit; let’s drink and snort and fuck… I wipe my nose and pull Roman towards me. I need sex, really badly.
He lifts me up the bed so my head is rest
ing on the pile of pillows and cushions, then he pulls off my knickers and lays beside me. Skye pulls off the towel she has wrapped around her and climbs onto the bed naked. I’m aware of how feminine she smells, soft and flowery. I’m aware of every movement she makes as she eases closer to me on the bed, although I can’t actually focus well enough to see her; all I see is colour. Skye is a sparkling mass of pinks and lilacs and Roman is blues and silvers; the colours merge and then separate, merge and separate, and anticipation and arousal build in my belly as they get closer. I can feel Roman’s erect cock digging into the top of my hip. There are hands and lips on me, but I don’t know whose; fingers slide inside me and it feels good. Then there’s a tongue on my clit and I reach down, and I know it’s Skye’s head between my legs but Roman’s fingers inside me. I arch my back, and she licks and sucks me with more force as he adds another finger. My heart rate suddenly accelerates and feels like it’s pounding in my ears. My vision slowly comes into focus and I watch as Roman brings his head down to take my nipple into his mouth; he strokes himself as he watches what Skye is doing with her tongue on my clit.
He pulls his fingers from my body and slides off the bed, sitting back on his heels beside me, watching, and I don’t like it. I hate it. All that’s running through my brain is that Cam wouldn’t like this; he wouldn’t like me doing this, and he wouldn’t like that Roman was watching.
I don’t quite know what happens next; it’s like a wave of panic rushes over me. I don’t like this; I don’t like what’s happening. I want it to stop.
“No!” I hear myself call out. I try to close my legs, but Skye holds them open. “No, Rome, tell her no.” I scramble up the bed, and Skye sits up and looks at me. Her face is wet and I suddenly feel disgusted with myself.
Roman’s at my side. “Calm down, George. It’s okay. What’s wrong?’ I don’t know exactly what’s wrong, but I don’t want to be here anymore; I want to leave.
“I want to go home.” He nods.
“Great, just fuckin’ great.” I hear Skye say. She climbs off the bed and stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I watch Roman as he gets dressed then helps me on with my clothes. I’m still unsteady on my feet as he helps me stand; the colours have stopped bouncing off every surface now but I still feel like I’m completely out of myself. “You okay? Can ya walk back to the truck?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I… I just want to go home.”
“Stop saying sorry, George. Tonight was all about you, whatever you wanted, whatever you wanted to do. You’ve had enough, and that’s fine; now it’s time to go.” He kisses me. “You ever done anything like that before?” I shake my head, feeling embarrassed now; what the fuck was I thinking? “Well, it was fucking hot, let me tell ya. Watching her do that to you was fucking hot, so thanks, thanks for that. I’ll never forget it. Next time I’m away and haven’t seen a decent-looking woman for months, I’m gonna play that on a loop in my head to help get me by.” He kisses my cheek. “You sure you’re okay walking?”
I nod, but I’m not actually sure. I grip his hand tightly and let him lead me back the way we came. We collect our stuff from around the fire and head back to the truck. I feel dizzy and lightheaded, tired but wide-awake, and my mind is suddenly very clear. I want my bed. I want to be left alone in my bed with my thoughts. I have no idea why, but Cam keeps popping into my head and it’s pissing me off.
Roman starts the truck, and it occurs to me that he’s done quite a lot of drugs tonight.
“You okay to drive?” I ask him.
He nods. “I probably shouldn’t drive, but I’m okay. If I’m not, I’ll pull over and we’ll sleep in here. I didn’t have any of that joint, remember; the trippy stuff you had? Just the coke.” He pulls out of his parking spot and onto the road, and I have to laugh at his statement.
“Just the coke. Well, that’s fine then; you’re full of coke but you’re just fine to drive.” I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know where the words are coming from; he’s done nothing but look after me and now I’m being a complete bitch. He swings the truck into a layby.
“Shall I stop? D’ya wanna stay here? Whatever you want, George.”
“I want to go home. I want my bed.”
“Well, the only way that’s gonna happen is if I drive us there. This ain’t London, George; the cab drivers are all in bed at this time, even on a Saturday night.” He leans in, takes my chin between his thumb and index finger and lifts it so my eyes meet his. “I shouldn’t have let you have that coke; I’m sorry.” I feel like the bitch I am; I’m behaving like an arsehole and he’s the one apologising.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m being a bitch; I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He licks his lips and shakes his head. “The coke, that’s what’s wrong with you.”
“I’ve done coke before, Rome; I’ve been doing coke since I was twenty. You do remember who I was married to?” My heart hurts as I say those words…
Was married to.
Sean, I was married to Sean.
I still am married to Sean.
Except Sean’s dead and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life right now. I appreciate what Roman is trying to do, and he has helped me, massively. He’s proved that I can feel again, pleasure, at least.
“Well, George, am I driving or are we sleeping in the truck?”
“Just drive,” I reply. He kisses my mouth, pulls back out onto the road and we drive home in silence.
I decline Roman’s offer to come in. I apologise for my behaviour and explain I just want to be on my own. I’m not actually sure I do; I don’t know what I want, and I’m not sure of anything. My body is exhausted, but my heart is racing because of the coke.
I take a shower, pull on a pair of sleep shorts and a vest and take a couple of Valium to try and calm my heart rate. I know I shouldn’t drink with them, but they’re only a low dose, so I should be fine. I pour myself a glass of wine, and then go and sit out on the balcony. It’s almost four in the morning, but I know I won’t sleep if I go to bed, and I’m hoping the wine will relax me and undo the effects of the coke. I light a cigarette and make a conscious decision, there and then, that I won’t touch that shit again. I don’t like the person I become when I’m taking it. My face burns with embarrassment as I think about what I did earlier, what I let her do to me, someone I don’t even know. I’m pissed off with myself and Roman; he shouldn’t have let that happen, but then again, neither should I.
I stretch my legs out and rest my feet on the chair in front of me, but I’m twitchy; my heart and brain still racing. I go inside and find my phone; I have a number of text messages from Jim and Ash, apologising for their antics Friday night. I smile to myself as I read them and pour myself another wine while scrolling through all my messages until I find the one I want. I put my phone down on the table, drink my wine and light another cigarette. Other than the weed I’ve smoked lately, I’ve barely smoked the last couple of years. I’ve either been pregnant or trying for a baby, but since I’ve been in Australia, I haven’t stopped. It’s living on my own that does it. I’m not allowed to smoke at my mum’s; she just won’t have it. We all sneak out to the studio when we’re together, but if it’s just me, I don’t bother.
Just me.
On my own.
By myself.
That’s my life.
Alone.
I go back to the kitchen and bring the wine bottle back to the balcony. I pour another glass, emptying it, hoping the contents will help me forget the fucked-up circumstances of my life, just for a few hours.
I sit myself down in the chair. Drugs, smoking, drinking; the first two I need to stop completely. The last one I need to cut back on, and I will. Once I’m back in England, I will, but in the meantime, I light another as I sip my wine. I feel more relaxed now; in fact, I feel quite pissed. I’ve drunk almost a whole bottle of wine in less than an hour…
“Bad Georgia; bad, bad,
Georgia,” I say aloud, then giggle to myself. The Valium’s obviously kicking in as I’m starting to feel fuzzy. I pick up my phone and look again at the message I received on my birthday; our conversation had been cut short by Sean’s flowers arriving, and I hadn’t gotten back to him since. I put out my cigarette and text one word…
Tiger
I check the time; it’ll be almost six on a Saturday evening in England. He’s probably busy, or he might be at football; I know he likes to go and watch West Ham play when he can. He could be with a woman; my stomach rolls and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed at that thought. I light another cigarette to try to calm myself. My phone vibrates on the table, and I give out a little girly shriek as I jump, then giggle to myself. I smoke the rest of my cigarette before picking up my phone and opening the message.
Fuck, Kitten.
How are you, baby?
I burst into tears, finish my drink, and then go and climb into bed.
I’m a mess
I stagger into the bathroom, get the toilet roll and bring it back to bed with me. My phone buzzes.
Where the fuck are you?
Are you safe?
Do you need me?
Do I need him? Fuck, I don’t know what I need. I’ve just had one of the most fucked-up nights of my entire life and believe me, living the life I have, I’ve had some pretty fucked-up nights. I’ve gone out with one man, had my Mildred licked by a woman and now I’m home, texting a different man. A man I fucked while still married to my now-dead husband. What is wrong with me? I don’t want to be a bad person. I want to make good decisions; I don’t want to hurt or use anyone, but it’s all I ever seem to do. I wipe my running nose on the back of my arm as my phone rings. It’s Cam’s number, and I don’t know what to do. If I don’t answer, he will worry and probably get on to Bailey, and that will cause a whole other shit storm.