The Vintage Cinema Club

by Jane Linfoot

  He only looked away when she collapsed on top of him, but this time she recovered faster, and pushed herself up to sitting. She began to fiddle with the buttons of his jeans.

  He sat up abruptly, and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Jeez, I need to go and see if I can find a condom.’ He gave a grimace. ‘Although if there is one it’s probably out of date.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’ve got some.’ Deftly she slipped off him, crossed the room, and dug in her bag. Thank you Luce, for always making her carry her emergency supplies. She flipped a foil pack in his direction. ‘They’re Luce’s, not…’

  He cut her off in mid-sentence, with a half laugh. ‘Right now I don’t care whose they are.’ He met her half way back across the room, pulling her dress up and over her head in one easy movement.

  Her pants and bra hit the floor a moment later, and she watched as he peeled off his jeans, shuddering as she saw the size of him.

  As he pushed her down to sitting, the velvet of the sofa crushed against the skin of her back. Then he stood in front of her, and took her hands in each of his, and placed one on each side of her.

  ‘No touching, and definitely no kissing,’ His voice was little more than a grating whisper. ‘Not until it’s over.’

  She looked down at his dark scrambled hair, caught the shadow of the tiny scar on the side of his cheek as he parted her knees, slid his hand upwards, to where her thighs met. He was on one knee in front of her now, dragging her hips into position, gently nudging her clit with his dick, teasing.

  ‘Steady…’ He put a hand on her arm, and caught her eye. She stared, unable to look away from the intense, inky darkness of his gaze. He held her eyes there, welded to his, widening, for what seemed like forever. Until she was completely still.

  And then he slid into her.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she heard herself cry out. She lay back on the feather-bed softness of the sofa, and gave herself up to the twist and grind of pleasure, closing her eyes tightly, to concentrate on the chaos overtaking her. She opened them, as she heard a low growl lodging in Xander’s throat, took in the beautiful grimace spreading across his face, and as he gave one final push, she let him take her with him. Whoever said the female orgasm lasted twenty five seconds had to have been underestimating. Xander let his head fall against her neck as she slumped. And then, only then, did he begin to kiss her.

  33

  Thursday Night/Friday Morning, 12th June

  Subject: RE: *waving from the beach*

  Hi Olls,

  Pleased to hear you’re having a fab time. Just to let you know Ruby’s so thrilled with your cards. She can’t stop talking about them – that and her latest obsession with falabella ponies!

  *waving from Matlock* Luce & Ruby xx

  34

  Thursday Night/Friday Morning, 12th/13th June

  XANDER & IZZY

  The Pink House

  Caveman, out of practice

  It seemed like a very long time later when Xander pushed his arm out from where it had gone numb underneath a sea of curls, to squint at his watch. He had no idea how he’d feel about this later, but he’d face that tomorrow. Right now, he knew it couldn’t have been any other way.

  ‘It’s two thirty, is this the part where I carry you up to bed?’ He was uncertain of how she’d react on all counts, but he’d float the idea and see where it got him.

  ‘Thanks for the offer.’ She rubbed her eyes blearily. ‘But I can easily walk.’

  He found himself smiling, uncontrollably, as he ignored her protests and scooped her up. Even as he had spoken the words, and now, clasping her body tightly against his, he realised that this was what he’d been wanting to do, ever since he had carried her across to his car, the night he’d found her in his skip. As he swung along the hall with Izzy in his arms, and turned up the wide stairs, he was filled with a curiously certain sense that this could be all he was ever going to want. Except that was crazy. He could never let that happen. He wiped that thought, and concentrated on her tangled hair flopping, the way her pale knees bent in the crook of his elbow, the burn of her fingers as she dug in, to cling around his neck.

  Something in the way she curved her naked body into his told him he was carrying her to his bed, and not to another bed, in a room of her own. Downstairs, when he’d picked her up, he’d been thinking of the sheer comfort of falling into a deep sleep, with her tucked in bed beside him. But now, fifteen stairs later, he was screamingly aware of the sensuous friction of her skin on his own, the irresistible way her flesh yielded in his fingers as he carried her, and the thump of his growing erection, as it rose to bump the dip of her bottom, with every step he took.

  This whole thing had taken him unawares. Out of practice didn’t begin to cover it. He hoped he had some condoms in his bag upstairs, because they were damn well going to need them.

  35

  Friday Afternoon, 13th June

  LUCE & DIDA

  Vintage at the Cinema

  Bits and bobs

  ‘So Izzy’s looking for three more daybeds?’ Luce fiddled with the post it note announcing the fact. ‘Her getting stuck in that skip turned out well for our cause, even if it means no child this side of Paris is going to be able to have a French bed because they’re all in a pink house near Ashbourne. I was hoping I’d see her today, to ask how she’d got on with her building site visit.’

  ‘There’s a bit of a news blackout on that.’ Dida looked up from her laptop. ‘She rang me first thing this morning saying something about Chou-fleur breaking down, and asked me to cover this afternoon so she can work at home, which was fine as I was planning to be here in any case. She sounded a bit flustered’

  Luce gave a laugh. ‘Let’s hope that’s a good sign. If a hot guy like Xander was lusting after me like he’s lusting after her, there’s no way I’d leave him sitting on a chaise longue.’

  Dida gave a shrug. ‘Izzy definitely deserves some down time.’

  Luce smiled at Dida’s euphemism. Down time? Occasionally Dida really showed her age.

  Dida carried on. ‘Well, my news is that I’ve almost finished our Vintage Cinema Club business plan, and I’m about to email it to the Enterprise Manager at the bank, so he can process the loan application whilst I’m in Italy. How about you, have you emailed Ollie yet?’

  Luce gave a shamefaced grimace. ‘I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t sleep, and I thought, what the hell, and the next thing, I’d written one and pressed send. Serves me right for taking my iPad to bed, I’d never have done it in the cold light of day.’

  ‘Yay, well done for that.’ Dida’s whoop turned into a sympathetic smile. ‘And now you’re waiting for a reply?’

  ‘Yep, checking my phone every five minutes as we speak. Nothing yet though.’ Luce shook her head. ‘Hey, see that guy over there by the brass bed, he’s Mr Browntree, our Susie Cooper collector, who told me on his way in he’s got an interest in Art Deco too.’

  Dida stretched forward to see, then belted backwards so fast she knocked three standard lamps flying. ‘Crap, you have to be kidding?’

  Luce jumped to catch the tumbling display. ‘Is there a problem?’ A bit of a rhetorical question, judging by Dida’s agonised grimace.

  ‘That’s David Browntree, my obs and gynae man. What the hell’s he doing here?’ Dida had taken temporary shelter behind a decoupage screen.

  ‘At a guess, I’d say he’s buying lovely things, and bringing us much needed takings.’ Luce couldn’t help but be amused. ‘Even gynaecologists will have interests apart from…’

  ‘Enough!’ Dida’s squawk silenced Luce, then her chest puffed out, as she dragged in a deep breath. ‘When a guy prods your bits and bobs with your knees hooked in the air it’s bad enough, but facing him across the counter, knowing what he’s seen…I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can do that.’

  Despite her giggles, Luce entirely understood. ‘Fine, you go and hide your fanny upstairs in the bridal room. You’ll have plenty of time to
finesse the business thing, because he’s usually here for ages. I’ll text you when he’s gone, okay?’

  Luce didn’t get a reply, because Dida was already half way to the stairs, and as she turned back to the shop, it was to find Xander arriving at the counter.

  Raking his fingers through his hair again, rocking up, cool as you like, in a suit too, despite the warm day. Could a guy be any more of a hot mess? And smelling divine too, not that Luce was sniffing on her own behalf here. Izzy had to be totally bonkers if she was passing this one up.

  ‘Hi, can I help?’ Another smile that Luce had to rein in, for all the right reasons.

  The way Xander bit his bottom lip only went to accentuate that gorgeous wide mouth of his. Mentally Luce was shaking her head, hard, holding up her imaginary hands in despair. How could Izzy not?

  He tilted his head on one side. ‘Izzy in?’

  ‘Nope, sorry.’ Luce watched the light fade in Xander’s eyes as he took in her reply. But no way was Luce going to allow Izzy to throw away a five star hottie, who was so obviously into her. ‘You’ll definitely get her at home though. You know where that is don’t you?’ She suspected that was another rhetorical question.

  ‘Great, thanks. Albert Street?’ Xander turned to leave.

  Of course he damn well knew. ‘Number eight.’ Luce called after him with that detail, just to make it look as if she needed to, even though she knew she didn’t. ‘She’ll be working down in the basement, go in through the garden, off the back lane.’ Luce hoped he’d got all that.

  One hot guy, for Izzy. On a plate. And if Izzy blew this one, Luce was going to blow her top.

  36

  Friday Afternoon, 13th June

  IZZY

  In the kitchen, at home

  Pattern repeats

  Izzy, hunched over her sewing machine, in the sun squares at the kitchen table, next to the open doors, was thanking every lucky star in existence that Dida was standing in for her at the cinema. No way could she have faced Luce after everything that had happened yesterday. She was finding it pretty hard to get her own head around it, in fact she was doing her best not to think about it at all, because whenever she did for a teensy second she melted, just because of the whole awesomeness of it all. Then she went hot with shame, then cold in case someone should find out, then sweaty rivulets started running down her back. And she had no idea what those rivulets were about.

  Xander had woken her abruptly at six thirty with a shake, and presented her with a mug of coffee, and her clothes in a neatly folded pile. Definitely a guy who got things done. And more fool her for imagining it could have happened any other way. Problem was, she didn’t even know how the etiquette of the one night stand thing went. Any hope of being woken slowly, with a snog, went right out of the window.

  This morning he was already dressed in a suit, and champing at the bit to head off to a meeting. He must have been up for hours, because her van had already been collected by a tyre company, and Xander had apparently organised for it to be returned to her later, at home. Almost before she’d had time to open her eyes, let alone wake up, he’d zoomed her back into town, and left her standing on the pavement outside her house, whilst he disappeared into the sunrise, in a proverbial cloud of dust.

  She’d dived in the shower, and rushed off to the cinema, and the refuge of the Luce-free morning shift. Once she’d got home again, Izzy had got straight on the phone and tracked down the three day beds she needed. Now she was losing herself in the mindless repetition of making bunting. Coupled with the fatigue, which made her feel like she had needles sticking in her eyes, the kites and spots and stripes of the bunting fabric should have been enough to bring her brain to a halt. But somewhere between the flags, the scissors, and the ironing board, rogue thoughts were creeping through. She never leapt into bed with strangers, but worse, Xander was such an arrogant know it all, and he annoyed the hell out of her.

  She told herself to concentrate on the pattern repeats…

  The trouble was he was one hell of a good kisser, not to mention all the rest. Talk about divine shagging. Which she definitely wouldn’t be, especially not with Luce, who would no doubt try to prise it out of her if she got so much as a whiff of what had gone down. And last night hadn’t been a mistake, whatever she pretended. She’d done it because she’d desperately wanted to, because her body wouldn’t take no for an answer. She should have known better than to stay in an empty house with him. If she’d had a sensible bone in her body, she’d have called for a twin in a Corsa to airlift her out.

  Spot, stripe, kite…

  She should be feeling mortified, yet she wasn’t. Xander was heart-stoppingly, sizzlingly gorgeous, and it had been earth shattering, mind boggling and amazing. But that had to be the end of it. Here she was now, desperately making bunting after rushing back from the cinema, then tomorrow first thing she had to check out a house clearance, then she was back at the cinema again. Every second of her waking hours, and more, were already spoken for. Where in hell would she find time to fit in even the occasional date, let alone something more? As for letting a guy into her life properly, men inevitably wanted to grab control, and she couldn’t have that. Good kisser or not, she was going to have to let this one go. Plain, stripe, kite.… .

  In fact, given it was already mid-afternoon, in everyday dating land, she would already have entered the hell known as ‘waiting for the next call/text’, although now come to think about it, she wasn’t sure Xander even had her number. Maybe she needed to take the initiative here, and get in touch with him, just to tell him she wasn’t up for anything more of course. A kind of thanks but no thanks would at least be polite. Civilised.

  A hammering on the glass door cut in above the clatter of the sewing machine.

  Damn. She could do without interruptions.

  Triangles of bunting floated in front of her eyes as she staggered towards the door, then they cleared to leave something so much worse.

  ‘Xander?’

  Her stomach plunged to somewhere near her knees, kick-starting her heart as it passed. What the hell was he doing leaning on her door frame, his hands in the pockets of his impeccable jacket, with a face like a storm?

  ‘Van still not back yet? I’ve told them to put on new tyres all round, by the way.’ He strode past her, and into the kitchen, leaving her blinking.

  She hurried after him, steering him past the ironing board, and pushed him to a halt, with his back against the sink. Her heart was thumping now with a different kind of panic. ‘I can’t afford all new tyres.’

  ‘The old ones are full of nails from the building site. It’s my fault, I’m happy to take responsibility, I’ve covered it.’ He was sounding incredibly matter-of-fact, and focussing on a spot in space, six inches above the top of her head.

  She wasn’t sure she was comfortable with him buying her tyres. ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Anyway, I’m here to talk about last night.’ His voice was brusque, his expression unexpectedly grim.

  It hadn’t been that bad had it? She pushed to get in first. ‘I hope you don’t think I always put out on a first date, because I really don’t.’

  He hesitated, fiddled with his belt. ‘I know we watched films, but really, it wasn’t a date…’

  ‘What?’ She felt her eyes widen. She hadn’t seen that coming.

  He rubbed his thumb on his jaw, ‘The thing is, I want to put things in context, so there aren’t any misunderstandings.’ He paused, and drew in a breath. ‘Last night wasn’t what I do either so it’s only fair I explain. It isn’t that I don’t respect you as a person because I do, and it isn’t that I don’t find you attractive, because you are. Very.’ The corner of his mouth jerked a little bit sideways, as he hesitated. ‘But my lifestyle doesn’t allow for commitment, and I’m more sorry than I can say, but I’m afraid it can’t happen again.’ The tension lines around his eyes relaxed once he’d got that lot out, as if he were relieved to have said his piece.

  She gawpe
d back at him. Maybe this explained this morning’s high speed eviction too. At least he’d pussy footed around enough to avoid calling what was obviously a sodding huge mistake, by its proper name.

  She waited a few seconds, for the whoosh of shock to pass, and her anger to kick in. ‘Thanks for that. I’m pleased you feel that way, because if you’d been polite enough to let me finish, I’d have pretty much said the same thing first. So that’s alright isn’t it? I’m pleased we both know where we stand.’

  So why the hell did she feel like he’d smacked her in the face?

  He turned slowly, disentangling a stretch of bunting from around his ankles. ‘Anyway, I hope this won’t affect our working relationship, or the outstanding work at The Pink House. I’ve got a lot on the next few days, so I’ll trust you with a key for the front door.’

  Izzy’s eyes widened as he tossed it down on the table. Just like that. Chilled to the point of ice cold. At least that might explain why she was shivering hard enough to make her teeth chatter.

  Except maybe she shouldn’t be feeling as angry as she was, because the slight tremor of his voice gave the suggestion that he wasn’t as completely in control as he was pretending. True, he had given her the hundred percent knock back, but for an arrogant git, if she stopped to think about it, he’d somehow surprised her, by choosing the most respectful words, and emphasising that he did find her attractive, and making this all his fault not hers. What’s more, he did sound and look sincerely sorry, and not in a wimpy way. Something about the dark pools of his eyes made her heart screw up in her chest, to the point that it physically hurt her.

  ‘Okay.’ So that was that then. She really was off the hook here, but who’d have thought she’d have felt so deflated, when she’d just got exactly what she’d thought she wanted.