Some Like it Hot

by Amanda Brobyn

  Darren sucked on the end of his water bottle, taking long slow pulls until his thirst was satisfied. It was hot in the chalet and the humidity from the water wasn’t helping. He wiped the lid with his towel, offering it to Roni who looked in need of a little rehydration.

  Oddly enough, she took it and wrapped her lips around it, supping in short bursts. She could barely believe it. There was a time not so long ago when she couldn’t even entertain shaking his hand, and there she was wrapping her lips around something his lips had been on.

  Roni groaned loudly. The lustful release echoed tantilisingly and she recognised the symptoms that she had experienced the other day with Peter rising to the surface. Now was certainly not the time.

  “Sorry?” Darren asked as he withdrew the water bottle from her stubby fingers.

  “Erm . . . nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh, okay. Right, we’re going to try one more technique, Roni, before we call it a day.”

  Inside, Roni felt her heart sink. The joy of having life around the house was heavenly and she thought about the few people who had actually experienced the joys of The Tudors with its splendid architectural design and imposing characteristics. Suddenly, her home didn’t feel lived in. It was lifeless just like she was – only today she felt full of the joys and remarkably relaxed with Darren, not at all imtimidated by his presence – after the initial shock of seeing him in his swimming trunks, that was. She was glad they were not speedos.

  Darren slid into the water and took Roni’s hand, leading her away from the confinements of the side. She hopped from one foot to the other beneath the water to keep up with him. Her breasts bounced unsupported, their soft flesh glistening with tiny drops of moisture.

  Darren stopped in the centre of the pool, turning to face her.

  “Turn around please, Roni.”

  “Turn around? But I’m facing you . . .”

  “You need to turn away so you have your back to me,” he explained patiently.

  Darren manhandled Roni, physically directing her away from facing him to standing with her back to him. He placed his hands on her waist which had been sucked in by the tightness of the swimsuit and she flinched at his touch, freezing as his long fingers extended themselves around her torso, holding her firmly in place. Darren pulled her further back towards him and she could feel the heat exuding from his body penetrating her back.

  “I’m going to hold your waist just like I am now, and I want you to slide down slowly until you’re lying on your back with your head resting in the water. Okay?”

  Roni nodded as she took in his assertive direction and he witnessed her nod of acknowledgment from behind. The fine hairs sitting just below her neckline had started to dry and frizz up and Darren noticed how its colour was different to the rest of her hair – blonde tips and dark roots.

  Roni did as she was instructed, she had no choice. Peter had rarely been cross at her or dominant in any manner of speaking, but this was undeniably important to him and she was doing it more for the man she loved than the woman she was herself – whom she didn’t love. And love him she did, she just needed to tell him more often.

  “A little further, Roni, we’ve got to get you lying on your back in the water . . . drop back a bit more . . . I’ve got you. You need to be floating so you can look up at the ceiling.”

  As Roni slid further into the warm waters, Darren’s hold on her waist loosened and his hands slid further north over her indulged ribcage. Roni ignored the tingling sensation she felt as she concentrated hard on following his instructions.

  “A little more and you’re there. I’m going to hold you under the small of your back in a minute, just to keep you afloat – I want you to experience the joys of being able to float in the water whenever you get tired, staring out into your very own sky.” He laughed as he pointed to the circular velux with its plastic ivy hanging down.

  Roni went for it with gusto, in a last attempt at bravery. She had never tried so hard in all her life. Her head banged against Darren’s stomach as she flung herself back, butting it with some force, and she slid clumsily into the water with an accelerated pace that took him by suprise. Darren’s hands slid upwards as he tried to retain his grip on the smooth material but his hands simply slid over the slippery wet lycra, stopping at the base of her breasts.

  Roni let out a bloodcurdling yelp. “Waahhh!”

  Using his position of strength, he lifted her from the water until she was standing, as before, safe on her two feet, before he casually released his clasp unperturbed.

  Roni stayed with her back to him. She couldn’t look at him, not just yet. Her nipples had hardened to his touch with the closeness of his hands to her breasts. She had wanted him to pull down her bra-cups and plunge right in. But she was disappointed with herself for the ungraceful climax when it had all been going so well. Perhaps too well, but she’d overdone it at the end as she aimed for the big finale.

  “Do you want to try that once more?” Darren touched Roni’s shoulders and turned her around to face him.

  She turned reluctantly.

  “We didn’t quite get it right, did we?” His laughter echoed throughout the chalet, bouncing back at them, stealing centre stage.

  Roni’s arms were folded high across her breasts. She couldn’t risk Darren seeing her rock-hard bullets, couldn’t have him knowing his touch had turned her on so. He was here in a professional capacity and here she was, a married woman who had made her marriage vows and meant every word of them. Adultery was for other people, not Veronica Smyth.

  Roni recalled the day she had first met her group of friends at Jude’s charity bash. Hazy as the night was, she still remembered Sophie reading out the first question of what was to become the first of many, only they didn’t know it at the time. ‘When does adultery become adultery?’ Roni stood in a daydream as she reminisced about that evening. She stiffened remembering her own response to the question raised. ‘Just thinking about it . . .’

  She dropped her tightly folded arms and bobbed across the heated water, aiming for the tiled steps. She had practically committed adultery because she was thinking about it, had been since she met him in fact.

  Roni had to call it a day to collect herself.

  As Darren watched her abrupt departure, he knew something had happened which had disturbed her. He just didn’t know what although he had his suspicions.

  “Maybe next time then?”

  “Mum!”

  Anna sprinted across the schoolyard, eager to see her mother who she had missed more than she’d expected.

  She flung herself into Jude’s welcoming arms where she was held tightly and Jude kissed her forehead repeatedly, rubbing her back gladly. Her baby was home.

  Tom beamed at his mother, lugging their wheeled cases behind him, struggling as the skis, flung over his shoulder, swayed dangerously, eager to wipe someone out.

  “Go and help your brother before he kills someone, darling.” Jude beamed at her beautiful daughter who was almost as tall as she was and as gangly.

  Anna had been stopped when she was fourteen by a headhunter for Models NW but Jude had refused to see her daughter lose out on her childhood and had pointblank refused for Anna to pursue modelling as a career. ‘If you’re still interested after you’ve graduated from university, Anna, I will support you all the way, but education comes first.’ Jude had meant every word of it. For a moment it had felt like the same pattern emerging as she exchanged mother/daughter advice. Just as her mother had advised, intervening with prominent words when Jude announced she was going back to work as soon as the twins turned one. Her mother’s words had gone down like a lead balloon, but Jude had elected to accept her advice because her mother knew best. She only ever had her best interests at heart.

  Likewise, she was advising her daughter to study, head down. But of course Jude knew it was a little different. Anna was a child, a beautiful, academically gifted teenager who was dependent on her parents for both financ
ial and parental support, whereas Jude had been married with two children and was financially sound from both the large inheritance her father had gifted his only child and from her husband who even in the inception of his career had all the promise of making partner and his salary reflected this promise. She had never doubted him nor the correctness of his decisions, but it was clear to see whenever she looked back that Clive and Hattie had been in cahoots of some description, unanimously deciding what was best for her and without, it seemed, the need to consult her.

  At the time it never dawned on her to question them. Her mother had always been there for her, waiting patiently at the school gates come rain or shine, teaching her to bake, how to garden and how to enjoy all there was to enjoy about life. And Clive was the breadwinner, her partner, her lover and the father of her precious children. It never occured to Jude that children of working parents could grow up to be as harmoniously balanced as those whose parents were at their beck and call. Until now.

  Anna’s suitcase lay open on the white, voile-drapped, four-poster bed and Jude began to unpack her belongings which had been flung together and dumped in carelessly. Not a single item was folded. Instead it seemed like Anna had punched the clothes in, leaving them broken and twisted, creased to smithereens. She stopped unpacking.

  Anna lay on the bed next to her mother, her head resting on the pillow for support as she focused her attention on the pink Nintendo DS.

  Jude saw the fresh altitude tan of her daughter. She smiled to see the white around her eyes from where the ski goggles had been. She was almost panda-like.

  Anna had only to look at the sun and her skin changed colour. Tom was the only fair one in the family but he too carried the regal look which Anna had been gifted with. They were not identical twins, they couldn’t be because they were of the opposite sex, but it was clear that they were brother and sister.

  Jude remembered that she had a pile of tenders to sift through in order to select both the architect and the building firm. Sophie had told her clearly that it was part of her role now and she must just simply assert herself in making any necessary decisions. But sometimes Jude had to be reminded that she was now a working woman – undercover as it was – because she simply wasn’t used to the discipline of it.

  Her heart leapt with excitement as she thought about the finished salon. More so, how she wanted to delight Sophie as a way of repaying her. And delight her she would.

  “Anna, come off that thing please, darling, and unpack your suitcase.” Jude tapped her on the knee gently.

  “Sorry?” Anna immediately closed the pink lid and gawped up at her mother. “Unpack?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Jude stood to leave Anna’s girly bedroom with its princess-like poster bed draped with soft pink voile. Her walls were covered with High School Musical posters with a large poster of Troy placed just above her pillow.

  Anna set about pulling garments from the case, hurling them in various directions aimlessly and Jude had to forcibly stop herself from taking over. She wasn’t sure that she had ever asked the kids to take control of their own belongings before. She had done everything for them. It was only when it came to money and education that Jude really put her foot down. Money was something which simply should never be talked about – that was all too crude – and education was as vital as taking in oxygen. The rest Jude was so relaxed about she was almost horizontal.

  As she left the mayhem of Anna’s bedroom, she headed downstairs giggling mutedly. She wasn’t sure which had tickled her the most – the natural incapabilities of her daughter, soon to be sixteen, or the dawning realisation that she had absolutely mollycoddled her children since the day they were born and had never thought to question it.

  There were lessons to be learned by all of them and Jude was suprised by how long it had taken her to see it.

  Helena took the transaction slip from the elderly woman hunched in front of her. She glanced at it before dumping it in the bin beside her.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs Patterson, it’s signed in the wrong place. Can I get you to sign another withdrawal slip, please?”

  This time Helena marked a large X in red ink as clear as day and she watched the lady sign obligingly.

  “Thank you, Mrs Patterson. It’s easily done, isn’t it?” Helena took the slip without making eye contact and tucked it away into a hole in the desk, where the slips would be collected after the bank had closed, and archived – somewhere.

  She counted out the money from the cash float which was kept in a locked steel box in the top drawer of her desk – the keys were strapped to her at all times – clipped to her waistband.

  Helena recounted it for the benefit of the customer who watched the proceedings with little interest. She handed the cash over. “Will that be all for you, Mrs Patterson, or can I help you with anything else today?”

  The old lady stuffed the cash deep into the bottom of her bag, zipping it carefully and closing over the clasp. She was safety-conscious in this modern, crime-filled world. It wouldn’t do to be careless.

  “Yes, thank you, dear.” She prised her overweight body from the grey covered chair using her two walking sticks, before hobbling out.

  Helena did not see her out, she couldn’t. The banking hall was too busy. Once more she scanned the long queues before leaping up and making a beeline for a single gentleman who didn’t look a day under ninety. She took his arm gently.

  “Follow me, sir.”

  Nathan followed her around the box-sized flat wearing a thunderous look. “You’ll be back, you always are,” he scoffed.

  “Not this time, Nathan.” Helena continued packing her stuff into the tatty suitcase she had used since she was a student. It didn’t feel that long ago – probably because when she looked around she still lived like a student.

  As she glanced around her, Helena bid a mental farewell to the place which had held her shackled on and off for the past six years.

  “I’ve cancelled any direct debits that covered the bills to this place, Nathan, so you’re on your own now. I did it for six years and you never contributed a penny so you’ll have to learn the hard way.”

  Nathan was speechless. She had never gone this far.

  “What the hell did you do that for?”

  Helena picked up the ice-cream maker which Sophie had bought her last Christmas. It was her one indulgence, her favourite gadget and she used it regularly – as a meal replacement.

  “I’m out of here, Nathan – for good. I keep telling you but you’re not listening as usual. It’s no longer you and me . . . it’s you and you.”

  She stomped into the bedroom, wrapping her favourite gadget in a handful of clothes to protect it from damage, placing it in the only remaining gap of her suitcase. She pushed down on the dirty black squared canvas, zipping her wordly goods away. There was little else she had to take. The flat came fully furnished, so nothing bar the accessories belonged to either her or Nathan. All the electrical appliances belonged to the landlord, the same for the cheap, mismatched furniture, cushions too. The towels and bedding she would leave, they might remind her too much of Nathan. She took what was rightly hers and only hers. The rest was history. At least, it would be soon.

  “This is the end. Sorry, Nathan.”

  Helena dragged the case off the bed, taking a last look around the room to make sure she had forgotten nothing. She didn’t plan to be back. She had gone further this time than ever before and behind his cocky arrogant exterior, it was clear to see that Nathan was a terrified shade of ashen.

  “You can keep whatever I haven’t taken with me. I don’t want anything that will remind me of you,” Helena told him matter-of-factly, dragging the case down the narrow hallway. She opened the front door with a hurried twist of the scuffed Yale lock, then threw her single door key at Nathan who caught it with a surprisingly fast reflex for someone who was in a general state of lethargy.

  He stared down at the key, gawping at it angrily, and Helena wat
ched as his hand clasped itself tightly around it into a fist. She saw the colour of his knuckles change from red to white as his skin stretched. His face did the exact opposite and Helena knew it was time to leave.

  “Goodbye, Nathan, and good luck with your board games.”

  As Helena closed the door behind her she heard the key being hurled against the inside of the apartment door. It pinged loudly and Helena could already see in her mind’s eye the dent it would have put in the cheap material. She was glad to see the back of the place and while it wasn’t ideal living with Sophie, she was only too pleased that she had somewhere to go. She had accepted Sophie’s offer for the first time.

  Helena allowed the case to drop clumsily from stair to stair as she left the building. She chewed away on her bottom lip in distraction as she tried to erase those thoughts which – if allowed – would eat away at her ferociously. Yes, she had done it again today even though she’d promised herself that she would only do it on that one occasion. But this one wasn’t planned. It had just happened. She needed to make a clean break from that loser and she needed the money that went with it. But she would definitely never do it again.

  She meant it this time.

  As the first hint of darkness fell across The Firs it sent Jude deeper into the soporific state she had been in for the past hour or so. She had completely lost track of time as she pored over complex tender documents, scoured catalogues crammed with retro-styled furniture and collected samples of paints and snippets of wallpapers from various outlets.

  Jude was loving it, every single moment of it, and she felt alive and full of purpose. She rubbed her eyes, straining to see in the dimness which had closed in fast. The only light was coming from the outdoor lantern which was bright enough to land an aeroplane. Jude stared out of the living-room window at the yellowness which oozed from its diamond-shaped Victorian glass. As she continued to watch its static rays, Jude felt her heavy eyelids blinking rapidly as she tried to stay awake. She couldn’t stop now, she was already behind on the project because it had taken her the guts of a week to firmly decide if she should pursue the task without the permission and support of Clive. But each time she had thought about turning Sophie down, her gut flipped over and her chest tightened and Jude knew that an opportunity like this one might never cross her path again. It was too good to be true. But it was true.