by Morgan Rouge
“Well! Maybe we can come to an understanding if the men thing doesn’t work out?”
“We would make the perfect couple, Pony”
“It’s true. I will keep you on the back burner!”
“Thanks, Pony!” Bry responded sarcastically with a smile.
Bryony meanwhile had opted for a small black dress with a high neckline and a medium hem which just graced above her knees. She wore no necklace as she felt it would interfere with the neckline. Instead, she had opted for a pair of long and thin earrings with diamante in them. To finish it all off, she had straightened her hair and wore a small and delicate hair band to keep her hair off her face and emphasize her ears. With a small black clutch, Pony commented that she looked sophisticated and sleek.
“You are so gorgeous tonight!”
“Well, maybe I will keep you on the back burner, if you are lucky Pony!’”
They laughed together, locked up and headed into the centre of Glasgow: where all the best restaurants, bars and clubs were.
So they had ended up in Illusion, a swanky restaurant and bistro on cool and hip Bath Street. Illusion was known for its enticing range of delicious burgers. Bryony had their supreme burger with extra french fries and onion rings, whilst Pony opted for a bloody double beef burger with tomato and mushroom sauce. They lay back in the comfy sofas afterwards, finishing their soft drinks before moving on to the wide selection of small clubs which played a range of different types of music. They opted for cocktails which they felt made them look even more sophisticated than they already did. Daiquiris, cosmos and martinis later, they were dancing and soaking up the loud pop music which DogHouse had opted to play.
“Bryony! This should help take your mind off Hamish!”
“Pony, I had done until you said that!”
“Bryony that is definitely a lie: I have seen that pining look on your face: you can’t stop thinking about him, can you?”
“Not really, Pony”
“Look at all the fine men here Bry and you choose to still be thinking about that...”
“Complete hunk? I know, how awful of me!” Pony laughed at that, throwing back her head in to show her full enjoyment of her.
“What about that one over there?” Pony pointed at a tall man wearing jeans and a shirt with black shoes and a pair of sideburns. He was talking to someone else who Bryony couldn’t quite see.
“I don’t know, I can’t really see!”
“Well, we are going to have to get a little closer, say gee to chat to them!”
“Pony! Really? Do we have to?”
“Umm, yes, I command it!”
“What are we going to say?”
“Well, you should definitely mention your criminal record, don’t go into any details. They will think it sounds hard and will want you to protect them!”
“Really?”
“No! Of course not!” They both giggled at that under the intoxication of the alcohol and the loudness of the music, “come on!” continued Pony who began to drag Bryony across the dance floor, moving closer and closer towards the two men who they couldn’t properly see.
Pony was certainly not a wallflower. She regularly offended people with her honesty, asked or not. Pony felt it was too short a life to be dishonest or shy about telling the truth and so quite often it got her into trouble. Bryony meanwhile was the quieter of the two and often helped Pony out of her sticky situations, explaining clearly what Pony actually meant in order to stop full on fights which Pony never intended to happen.
So Pony sauntered over to the two men who stood in the corner of the bar chatting. As Pony had her by the hand as they walked through the thick and dancing crowds, Bryony walked behind her and so she couldn’t see very much in front of Pony, instead choosing to trust her instincts.
“Why are you two stood here talking instead of choosing to dance?” Bryony came out from behind Pony before she could say anything. Looking at Pony, she had one of those cheeky and playful grins which men seemed to fall. Bryony looked over at the men and gave a start. One of them was really tall, maybe in his thirties and had a quiet and shy smile. He had clearly been a little shocked by Pony’s entrance and yet also found it entertaining and, yep, very attractive. Hook, line and sinker, thought Bryony.
“We were just admiring you two dancing on the dance floor”, he smiled, playing with Pony. So, Pony had someone to chat to, thought Bryony. Casually, Bryony looked across at his friend and gave a start. Stood there, smiling at her in a casual t-shirt and jeans with black shoes was Hamish.
“Hey Bryony” he said quietly. Pony’s radar had been watching all along, she piped up.
“Wait, you know each other?” Hamish’s friend was also equally confused by this,
“Yeh, Pony this is the man I work for, Hamish and this is my flatmate Pony” They all shook hands as Hamish said.
“And this is my flatmate, Phil and a,” he stumbled around for the correct word “colleague, Bryony”. Bryony felt so relieved that he had told Phil a small lie about where he knew her from. She didn’t want her criminal record spoiling her weekend.
“So, shall we buy you two ladies a drink?” said Phil, loudly.
“Why not?” Pony replied “You can get the first round in”. They started talking straight away to each other, too quietly to be heard over the music.
Bryony turned to Hamish, who smiled at her “You look beautiful tonight, Bryony” he said, almost inaudibly. Bryony felt instantly shocked at Hamish: she had no idea he was charming, she thought he was almost entirely moody.
“Thank you Hamish” she responded.
“‘I’m not in the mood for small talk Bryony, why don’t we dance?”
“Sounds good to me, Hamish”. Luckily neither of them had drinks and so they wandered off, leaving Pony and Phil to get to know each other at the bar.
The music was intoxicating. Playing all the up to the minute hits and also a couple of oldies was enticing even more people to the already full crowd of people dancing. Friday night in Glasgow always seemed to have that feel, thought Bry ‘hedonism without a care in the world, not even remembering anything about their long week at work’.
Bryony and Hamish danced, letting their bodies go in tune to the music, showing all their best moves to anyone who was watching and in particular each other. Bryony smiled, almost in a relieved fashion: Hamish was a good dancer. She smiled, there was nothing worse than a man who couldn’t dance, who couldn’t find his way around the dance floor. If he looked awkward or as if he wasn’t having any fun Bryony found that the most cold-inducing aspect she could think of. No, a man had to have rhythm. If he didn’t have rhythm she was not interested. Luckily for Hamish, he really knew how to dance: he even had all the steps.
Slowly they danced closer and closer until Hamish took her hand and began to twirl her, hold her close and dance around the dance floor. She looked up at him, slightly in awe of his commanding dancing. He was the man and could just move her around as he pleased: she was helpless in his grip, yet felt that his dancing was helping her to follow him and also make her a good dancer. His strong masculine grip on her body was extremely difficult to resist and she felt full of the moment. Every so often she would maybe make a wrong step and she would end up almost knocking into him, perhaps an elbow would hit him or an arm would flail out. Every time this happened, although she was slightly embarrassed, she was at the same time thankful of the fact she could feel how strong and solid his body was. There wasn’t a bit of him that wasn’t muscle, smiled Bryony to herself.
As they waltzed around the dance floor, with a twirl here and there, she enjoyed every time his hand returned to her body. She didn’t know if he meant to or not, but his hand slid across her body, across her small waist until it stopped, just a little above her hips. The music went down a notch and Hamish responded by pulling her closer to him, the music picked up and he was throwing her around like she was his little doll and she could do nothing about it.
“Where did you..
.?”
“Shh!” he responded, with a smile on his face, looking down at her, his gaze meeting hers for slightly too long. He wanted to enjoy the moment, not talk and prattle on about boring details, she felt, he was out and just wanted to dance. Her thoughts entirely.
Next to her, she could feel someone familiar and looking around she saw it was Pony with Phil. Bryony could see that, whilst he wasn’t such a good dancer as Hamish, Phil still had the moves and Pony was enjoying the moves. Her ponytail had gone and instead her long and flowing hair was wild and beautiful flicking all over the dance floor, wherever she and Phil chose to go. Phil clearly had a good sense of humor. Bryony knew that if Phil had failed to make Pony laugh, he wouldn’t have had a chance. She was thankful that Phil had pleased Pony because it meant she could spend more time dancing with Hamish.
They danced all over the dance floor and for a long time, soaking up the atmosphere and the heady music which the DJ was choosing, expertly. Not one word was spoken as they danced, enjoying each other’s company, smiling, laughing and generally having a good time. They didn’t drink anymore, instead feeling as though they had had enough, and instead just wanted to soak up every bit of dancing which they could.
After a couple of hours, Pony began to yawn, “I’m tired” she said, to which Phil responded almost immediately
“Why don’t we go somewhere quieter to chat?” he clearly didn’t want Bryony’s flatmate out of his sight, in case she wasn’t real or in case he never heard from her again.
“Sure, I know a cozy bar just round the corner” said Bryony and with that they left.
Five minutes later they were in a quiet French-themed bistro, with a selection of little red booths with a small and cozy table. They agreed that a large bottle of sparkling water would be good. In the corner there sat a small jazz band, piano, double bass and violin. Their quiet and mellow music was relaxing, encouraging free and easy conversation. Few people were in the restaurant, just a couple of cozy couples, drinking wine and laughing on shared experiences.
“I’m so thirsty from all that dancing!” said Pony, lapping up the water as it came.
“So, are you two sisters?” Phil asked Pony
“No, we are just old friends. We live together. And you two?”
“The same. We grew up in the same area and it seemed fitting to move in together when we worked in the same area”. Pony and Phil’s conversation continued whilst Bryony and Hamish sat in silence. Bryony looked over to where the band were playing: there was a small space in which to dance. If only...
“Bryony?” Hamish said suddenly
“Would you like to dance?”
Bryony smiled.
“Yes” she responded.
And so Hamish offered his hand and they walked slowly and in anticipation to the dance floor. Taking her into a waltz hold, they slowly moved around the floor, taking in each other’s scent. Bryony could feel everything about him: his warm breath on her neck and her ear, the sigh of his chest, his hand softly placed on the small of her back, his swaying as he danced, the smell of his showergel (perhaps kiwi, or tropical fruits?) still present on his body.
As the music continued, she could focus on nothing else but him: he seemed so addictive, she just wanted to remain here forever, dancing with him next to her. She closed her eyes and imagined them far away, the only two on a tropical beach, the smell of tropical fruits, of coconut, passion fruit and kiwi all in the air, of the gentle reflex of the sea, undulating in and out, the whisper of the wind.
She could feel him getting closer, her body nearer and nearer to his, his to hers, the movement of his hips now so close to hers as to be almost unsightly in public. But she didn’t care, his ear so close to hers, moving closer and closer, she slowly laid her head on his shoulder. He responded by bringing his body closer, his grip bearlike and commanding.
Slowly he turned his head to hers and allowed his nose to touch her hair, ever so gently, which cascaded down her back. She could hear him as he breathed in her scent: what could he smell? Her shampoo? Her light perfume she had worn for the evening? Her mind was blank, all she could think of was Hamish and of course Hamish’s body. His body closer to hers, she suddenly had a thought
‘He doesn’t actually hate me, he likes me!’ she smiled at this. Just as well because however much she had tried to ignore it, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him for days and days.
‘Where did you...?’ Bryony began, only to be stopped by Phil.
‘Hey, mate Pony and I are going to head, she needs to go back home and I am up early tomorrow’.
‘Okay, no worries Phil. We can join you too?’ He said, asking the question to Phil, but looking at Bryony, she responded with a nod. ‘Let’s go’. She mouthed to Pony.
With a smile at Hamish, Bryony hailed down a cab and jumped in with Pony. Bryony smiled gently to Hamish as the taxi drove away and she saw he too had a similar smile, one of enjoyment, one of interest.
In the taxi and at home she barely heard what Pony had to say, so preoccupied with Hamish was she. If only they had not gone when they had, maybe he would have kissed her. And, Bryony admitted, that would have been heaven!
How could she try to stop thinking about him? She knew all weekend he would be all she would think about. She closed her eyes to remember his scent, his fine, strong, taut body. She imagined him kissing her, his strong full lips pressed hard against hers, their mouths slowly opening, her undoing the buttons of his shirt, he slowly unzipping the back of her dress. She imagined them, back on the beach, slowly walking up the path to their small villa, made of rushes and sand. He licking her neck, tasting her mouth, cupping and rubbing her breasts, trailing his hands lightly down her body, smiling and laughing as they both undressed each other and fell onto the large and comfortable bed, with white linens.
As she fell asleep, she imagined them talking, laughing, running and then dancing the evening away. She wanted that reality now but she was going to have to wait until at least Monday for that to happen. She didn’t have his phone number and neither did Pony have Phil’s. She would just have to wait.
How was she going to survive the weekend when all she could think about was Hamish? She knew it would take a considerable amount of effort to not think about him. She was going to have to go shopping tomorrow: that make all the world’s ills better.
Chapter Seven
Hearing the sound of her flatmate’s key in the lock made Pony jump up from the kitchen table where she was decorating a vase in various tones of pink and white to run to the door and open it. She had been thinking about Hamish and Bryony all day: had they kissed? Had they spoken? What had they got up to?
The tension had been unbearable. She had considered Bryony. Bryony was a beautiful, friendly and wonderful person who always tried to see the best in others. Bryony, however, had not been entirely successful in love. In Pony’s opinion she was always far too trusting of men, believing the best in them, allowing herself to be taken for a ride. There were a few men in Glasgow who, in Pony’s mind at least, ought to have a contract out on them, such awful men that they were. David, Connor and Harry all ought have been fatally hurt by someone: indeed, Pony was surprised none of them had been hurt before. She didn’t like to remind herself of the details of each because it made her want to hurt them and boiled up lots of unwanted feelings within her. No, focus on the lovely Hamish instead.
And how wonderful was Hamish? Pony had carefully watched him as he spoke to Bryony. She had considered his body movements, his eyes. From her side of the bar, she could tell that he liked Bryony a lot. He watched her face, her eyes, her body as she walked: he was clearly in to her. Every time her hand went to her ear, his hand went to his ear, too. When she laughed, he laughed too. Admittedly, they had not spoken much except at the end of the night, but by the way that they had spoken over a quiet drink, Pony had learnt a lot from Hamish.
Of course, it was not just body language and indeed being attracted to Bryony’s fabulous
body. He was also interested in what she had to say. As she told him stories, and laughed and joked with him, he seemed genuinely interested. Indeed he seemed far more interested in hearing what she had to say than giving anything away about himself.
And, finally, he was gorgeous. Bryony deserved to be with someone who made other girls go ‘wow’. And ‘wow’ he was. Tall, slender but muscular, a calm face, a mouth set ready to smile, a laugh which was contagious, a smile that melted every negative thought you had ever had. Biceps to make anyone drool and an ease of style which appeared effortless but nonetheless, well-chosen.
In addition to all these wonderful qualities, he also had a friend who was also hot. And she too had her own good news along with Bryony’s when she came in. Phil had been flirty texting her all. She was a little concerned: was it impractical for two sets of flatmates and friends to date? As she owned this flat and Hamish owned theirs, it perhaps wouldn’t be so bad, not much swapping would have to occur!