Lin shook his head. “I don’t fancy it.” He finished the bowl of cereal and picked up a piece of toast, taking a half-hearted bite, washing the morsel down with a drink of coffee. An idea flashed to mind. He spoke casually. "Why don't we stay local and visit Scarburn, take a walk around the old town?”
“There’s no point, Linsy love, because the planning office is closed on a Saturday and even if it wasn’t we wouldn’t be going. It’s far too early in the chapel proceedings for anyone to have yet submitted plans for inspection, let alone for them to be available to Joe Public.”
Lin flared, “how did you know that’s where I was thinking of going?”
“Because I know you better than you know yourself. I’m warning you, put thoughts of contacting the planning office out of your mind. As residents we’ll get a letter outlining what purpose the chapel has been bought for in due course.”
“No harm in being ahead of the crowd.”
“Let it drop.”
“I suppose we can always lodge an objection if it is going to be a restaurant. I could put the wind up fat Harry and get him onside. I'll tell him a new restaurant will likely affect his takings, especially if it does lunches and applies for a licence as well.”
David made no effort to disguise his annoyance, utilising what Lin referred to as his posh Eton voice, cold and precise. “I’m beginning to think I’m talking to myself here, Linval, and I’m more than tired of it. No Scarburn. No planning office. No more chapel talk. How about we visit my mother for the weekend? She's been complaining she hasn’t seen us for months.”
“By us she means you, and I’d rather trap my dick in the zip of my jeans than spend the weekend being viewed down the length of her nose.”
“Not the most polite or charming of pronouncements but fair enough seeing as she doesn't speak very highly of you either. Let's go to Northallerton for the day then, visit Coopers and get some sea urchin paste; you said you were running low. We could also stock up on those gorgeous Catalonian anchovies they sell and some black olives. We could have coffee and a snack at Bella's afterwards."
"I did an online shop at Coopers and," Lin's voice grew strident, "how many times have I told you I'd rather have coffee at McDonalds than patronise Bella's Tea Rooms. It's a bloody pretentious, overpriced, overrated snob shop. They charge eight pounds, eight pounds, for a lump of cheese on toast, justifying it by labelling it as Welsh rarebit. Rare my arse, it isn't even good cheese, it's mass produced pap. Their cakes are factory fodder too; all fancy dressing and no flavour. How they get away with calling them homemade is beyond me. It bloody amazes me that folk actually queue up to get into the place. It's like queuing up to get fucking mugged."
"All right, calm down. I'm sorry I mentioned it." David blew out his cheeks. "How about we go to the cinema?” He almost added, ‘or dinner out,’ but stopped himself. Lin was a nightmare to take out to dinner at the best of times. In the circumstances taking him to a functioning restaurant would be like rubbing salt in a wound and everyone would pay for his pain.
“I’m not in the mood.” Lin dropped the remains of the toast back on his plate and put the tray on the floor next to the bed. He lay down, curling on his side.
Putting his coffee cup on the bedside cabinet David laid on the bed, also curling on his side, facing Lin's back. Propping his head on his left hand, he used his right hand to stroke intimate little circles on Lin's bare thigh. “What are you are in the mood for?”
David's closeness and the warm, soap fresh scent of his skin, underscored by the musky tang of male pheromones, caused a reaction in Lin’s body. He quelled it.
“Nothing.”
“How about I work on getting you in the mood for something?” David’s caressing hand edged higher.
“I’m not interested. I was ordered to sleep anyway.”
“Sex will relax you." David placed a kiss at the nape of Lin's neck, moving up towards the base of his ear. “It will improve your mood and sense of well-being and therefore help you sleep much better.”
“You’re only thinking of yourself.” Lin clamped a hand to his neck, blocking the kisses. “Your cock rules your life. Sex mad and selfish you are.”
“I admit to not being entirely altruistic, but you enjoy sex as much as I do. I can’t help finding you irresistible.”
“Cheap flattery will get you nowhere, least of all where you want to be, between my legs with your piston stoking my hole.”
“Care to lay bets on it?”
“You can lay bets wherever you like, David dear, but what you’re not going to lay is me. I’m not feeling amorously inclined towards you. If your little friend John Thomas is desperate, then go read him one of the horny little cock stories you used to publish by the drove. You can shake hands with him afterwards.”
“I don’t think I care for the way you said ‘little’ friend, besides you know how much I hate playing solitaire.” His voice took on a beseeching note. “How can you not feel amorous towards me after the romantic breakfast I served you?”
“Without effort believe me.”
“Will you feel more inclined if I serenade you with the rose clenched between my teeth?”
“No, though I might smile if you get a thorn stuck in your tongue, like Tony did last Valentine's Day."
“You’re not a nice man, Linsy.”
Lin glanced over his shoulder. “Still want to fuck me?”
“Yes please.”
“Tough.” Lin turned away again.
"I'll take you by force, make you my sex slave. You'll call me Master and kneel naked at my feet. You won't be allowed to wear clothing ever again, apart from a collar with my initials on it." David slipped his hand under Lin's t-shirt. "I'll hogtie you, spank and whip you, make you orally pleasure me and then I'll fuck you long and hard until you're begging for mercy."
“I’m not playing." Lin did his best to ignore the sensuous caressing of his back. "I'm not going to be won over or turned on with sordid sex talk. Knowing you it's probably plagiarised from one of your arse totty books."
David's hand moved around to his chest. Fingers toyed with his nipples, pinching them into hard little nubs before moving down his belly to his groin, stroking the length of his cock through his underwear. "Go play with yourself. I mean it, David, stop it." He squirmed, trying to contain a moan of pleasure as a tongue began a gentle trace around the shell of his ear. “Did you hear me, stop it, don't do that, or…what the hell are you doing?” Lin rolled over to glare at David.
“I’m stopping as requested.” David, straight-faced, lay on his back, hands locked behind his head. “Far be it from me to force my obnoxious, unwanted attentions on…OUCH!" He let out a loud yelp as an elbow jabbed his ribs. He started laughing and then ouched again as the elbow struck a second blow.
“You’d better finish what you started, David Jordan, and you better be damn good.”
“Trust me." David grinned. "I’ll be better than good. I'll be fantastic, as always.” Pulling Lin into his arms he smacked playfully at his rump.
Lin snorted. “What was it Mae West once said, an ounce of performance is worth pounds of promises.”
“She also said, a hard man is good to find.” David guided Lin’s hand to the crotch of his black jeans.
“My, my.” Lin fluttered his eyelashes and gave one of his rare full smiles. “Looks like I found me a good, hard man. You could poke someone's eye out with a pole like that. Now remember, darling, in the words of the great lady, anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.”
Red Sky by Morning
Eight
David studied Lin's face as he slept, smiling as he thought of the sex they'd shared. Lin was a vocal bed partner. He whimpered, moaned, grunted, begged and yelped during intercourse. It was adorable.
He touched Lin's hair with a gentle finger, some of his pleasure diminishing. Lin might be sleeping, but he wasn't completely at peace. His mind was still working away, evident from the faint frown lines on his forehead
and around his mouth. No doubt he was worrying about who had bought the chapel. Why wouldn't he accept that it didn't matter?
Carefully sliding his arm out from beneath Lin's shoulders he got out of bed, making his way to one of the guest bathrooms to shower, so as not to disturb him. He re-dressed and went downstairs.
After reading another round of business emails and replying to the most urgent, David glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder before clicking on his favourites list and selecting an item. He printed it off and hurried to the kitchen, closing the door with stealth.
He paused. It was ridiculous. He was acting as if he was about to do something illegal and obscene rather than a bit of experimental baking while a certain someone was out of the picture. Though in his own defence, it had to be said, Lin did view anyone using the kitchen, besides himself, as a criminal offence.
Consulting the printed sheet, David began a happy gathering together of ingredients. He was looking forward to baking without Lin poking his narrow little nose in, interfering, criticising and trying to take over at every stage.
Twenty minutes later he had a tray of white chocolate and raspberry muffins all ready to slip in the oven. He viewed them with a proud paternal eye. Whoever would have thought the heady world of empire building would pale into insignificance compared to the satisfaction gained from making cakes?
His happy pride suffered a slight setback as he opened the oven and realised he’d forgotten to light and preheat it. Setting the cakes aside he ruefully remedied the oversight. Lin would have had something to say about it. Fortunately, what the chef didn’t see, he couldn’t comment on.
Humming the theme tune from The Archers, he set about washing up and returning the kitchen to Lin's exacting standards while he waited for the oven to heat. Job done he filled the kettle and plugged it in to make what he considered was a well-earned drink, deciding on coffee for a change. He's just spooned granules into a mug when what sounded like a hammer blow landed on the back kitchen door.
“Sorry, Mr Jordan.” Jeff grinned from the threshold, his bulk blocking out light from the open door. “Didn’t mean to mek you jump.”
“Morning, Jeff. I'm making coffee. It’s only the instant variety, but you’re welcome to join me?”
“Aye, go on then, ta, just a quick one. I called by wi’ these.” He held out an elegant bunch of gladioli, the bottom buds just opening to reveal petals of a rich coral hue. “First of the season. You won’t find any in the shops yet, and none as fine if you did. Gladdies are my speciality, won prizes with them I have. ”
“They’re lovely, Jeff.” David looked puzzled. “But Saturday isn’t usually your day for selling at this end of the coast?”
“Nay, Mr Jordan.” Jeff settled himself on a kitchen chair, laying the flowers on the table. “Ah’m not selling. These are to replace them sunflowers I sold you. Mr Larkin complained they were infested with black fly.”
“Mr Larkin,” said David smoothly, “was mistaken. The sunflowers were beautiful. They didn't last as long I would have liked due to this heat, but they were fine. These will be a welcome replacement and of course I’ll pay you for them.”
Jeff shook a dismissive paw. “Naw, naw, my pleasure. Call them a return for all the tea and coffee I’ve supped here.”
He leaned conversational forearms on the table. “I reckon Stanes is going to be teeming wi' even more folk today. The car park at the top of the bank is already filling up. I'm going to set up a stall later, see what I can flog. That storm has been good for business. Harry at The Golden Lion reckons he’s sold more beer in the last few days than he has in the last fortnight.” He grinned, showing a set of even white teeth. “George and Seth aren’t faring too bad either. They’ve practically had folk fighting over their catch, and had plenty of free pints from others wanting to hear about their part in the happenings.”
“They deserve it,” said David seriously as he put the coffees on the table. “God knows what Lin and I would have done if they hadn’t happened along. I doubt I’d be chatting to you now. My foot was lodged solid under those boulders and the wet sand underneath was sucking it down further. Lin would never have been able to shift them alone. We'd have both been flattened if George and Seth hadn't come to our aid.”
Jeff nodded, “aye, they’re good blokes. They were chuffed with the stuff you said about them to that fella from the local gazette. Seth’s missus cut the story out and put it in a frame and Harry is having one framed to hang up in the bar.”
He took a sip of his coffee, his huge hand holding the delicate china mug between a finger and thumb, pinkie raised in the air. “Will you be opening today, take advantage of the extra custom? Lucy will be disappointed if you don't. I saw her in the pub last night. She was doing a bit of bar maiding for Harry. She told me she prefers waiting tables in here than wiping tables in the Lion. I can't say as I blame her. There's some blokes have no manners when they've got drink in them. Bloody disgrace the things they say in front of a bonny lass.”
David shook his head, “I’m afraid Lin’s still feeling off colour.”
“I thowt he looked proper sickly when I saw him out this morning. Mind you he would’ve looked even sicker if he’d stayed on the beach any longer. I told him. I said that hazard rope’s there for a purpose, Mr Larkin. You shouldn’t be going under it. Them cliffs are still dangerous. I was right an’ all. Another big chunk of rock come crashing down not long after he walked off. Gave Florrie and me a helluva fright it did. It crashed down on the Devil’s steps, right where Mr Larkin had been standing not two minutes before. It would have killed him stone dead.”
David felt his skin pale and grow cold at this snippet of news.
Jeff, unaware of the disturbance he’d wrought in his audience, prattled on. “I think the council ought to be doing something more than they’re doing. I phoned them up. I told ‘em they ought to ban people off the sand altogether. We don’t want some day-tripper's bairn straying under the paltry tape they’ve strung up and getting squashed like a fly. They said they had some folk coming out later this morning to assess the situation. Whatever that means.”
As soon as Jeff departed, David washed the coffee mugs, staring sightless into the garden, his inner eye focussed on something less pleasant than the view through the glass. He returned to the snug, using his grim mood to begin sorting through some business papers and VAT returns.
Red Sky by Morning
Nine
Lin woke a little before noon, recognising the change in the call of the gulls as soon as he surfaced. Their cries were less strident, more remote, as if they were following the course of the sun as it climbed higher in the sky.
He lay for a few moments, eyes closed, enjoying the summer heat pooling around his naked body, still languid in the aftermath of sex and sleep. He allowed his mind to paint a pleasing picture.
Maybe David might be persuaded to open The Venus for Sunday afternoon tea. It wouldn’t be quite on a par with offering evening dinner. Morning coffee and afternoon tea, no matter how elegant, would never have the same prestige as dinner, but it would be better than nothing.
He would offer fresh crab and smoked salmon sandwiches and some simple shellfish dishes. He had some tiger prawns in the freezer. They'd go nicely with a green apple and sweet pepper sauce, served warm over salad. For the sweet-toothed he would serve up traditional cream teas with scones, and fresh strawberries. He'd add lavender and a pinch of fresh black pepper to a batch of scone mix for a fragrant and delicious twist. It was the kind of fare Sunday pleasure seekers looked for in summer.
Opening his eyes he put a hand to his mouth, chewing at his thumbnail. He’d show any rival he was a force to be reckoned with when it came to producing a meal, be it high tea or dinner. They’d have to rise very early in the morning to better him.
Cheered by the mental composition of his menu, he got up, showering and dressing before padding barefoot downstairs to the kitchen to optimistically check what he had in the store
cupboard and what he might need to buy.
He halted, a sour expression creeping across his face as he viewed the tray of muffins sitting unbaked on the counter top, while the oven blazed away to no purpose. He couldn’t turn his back for five minutes without David metamorphosing into Stane’s answer to Delia Smith. He’d be buying football clubs next and teaching lessons on how to boil eggs and make toast.
He walked over to the counter intending to poke a finger into the cake mixture and taste it. David's voice made him jump before he could complete the mission. He hadn't heard him enter the kitchen.
“I see you’re up. Do you feel better for having a sleep?”
“I see you’ve been playing in my kitchen.”
“Our kitchen, Lin. I’m as entitled to play in it as you are.”
“The difference being,” Lin folded his arms, “that I don’t play.” He nodded at the tray of muffins. “There’s too much mixture in those cases. They won’t cook evenly and you do realise they don’t put themselves in the oven. You have to do it for them. I know we live by the North Sea, but it doesn’t make the gas any cheaper because it has less distance to travel.”
“I’m well aware of that, thank you, Linval,” David’s eyes darkened to their deepest shade, almost black. “I got sidetracked.”
“What else have you been doing, besides playing Betty Crocker in my kitchen?”
“Accounts for The Venus.”
Lin’s mouth shaped itself into a sneer and snotty, injudicious words tripped off his tongue before he could bite them back. "There can’t be much to account for, not for a bistro that never opens. I don’t know why you bothered.”
There was a blur of movement. Lin got a fright as his wrist was seized and he was towed towards the kitchen table at a stumbling speed. Pulling out a chair David sat down on it, placing his right foot on its rung, elevating his right knee, so that when Lin found himself sprawled over it, his feet were raised clear of the floor in a most undignified manner.
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