A voyaging catamaran is resting in the water. Her name is CARLA, written in big bold blue letters, contrasting with the white of the bow. Freddie is busy on the deck, scrutinizing the tension of the shrouds, and giving his sheets and guys a once over. He waves at me as soon as he makes out my silhouette approaching the boarding steps.
‘You made it! She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Come on up!’
Something about his childish grin and unabashed excitement unexpectedly mollifies me. By the time I have reached the deck, my anger has abated and it’s with a mixture of curiosity and interest that I meet him.
‘You named it Carla? Seriously?’
‘Her. Named her. It’s stick-on lettering. I can have it removed and replaced with my next girlfriend’s name any time, don’t worry. I need to get us out to sea. You can have a wander. I left your phone and stuff in the guest cabin. Are you hungry? I picked up some food.’ He nods in the direction of the galley.
I flinch at the mention of the word girlfriend. I don’t want to be anybody’s girlfriend for a while yet.
I make my way down the stairs and look around. The interior is traditional, panelled in luscious mahogany. The saloon sports a state-of-the-art entertainment system, large comfy settees and a compact bar complete with wall-mounted spirit dispenser. The owner’s stateroom is surprisingly spacious: light floods in from the skylight and the portholes. It is the only room which looks lived in on the boat. There are two more guest cabins. One of them is crammed with Freddie’s things – board games, fishing equipment, boxes of books. The other one has a freshly made-up bed with my phone, wallet and keys neatly stacked on the duvet, which I recover promptly.
The galley is stainless steel and fully equipped with modern appliances. My common sense begs me to force Freddie to turn back to shore, but I can’t help feeling a little excited at the prospect of an adventure. I text Emily and Lola.
‘Won’t be coming home tonight. Am with Freddie. What the hell. x’
I peek into the bags of shopping on the kitchen counter – smoked salmon, fresh bread, cheeses, grapes, two bottles of rioja, and my favourite bar of Cadbury bubbly, which he must have noticed I keep in my drawer. I slice the bread, plate up the rest of the food, and take everything upstairs on a tray.
My week was exceptionally good workwise, thanks to Freddie. I now feel inclined to enjoy my weekend and not let bitter memories of Ben spoil it. My mood lifted, I uncork the red wine and serve it in two small tumblers.
‘How do you know I like chocolate with red wine?’
‘It might sound stalkerish, but I’ve been watching you. Just kidding. Everybody loves chocolate with red wine.’ He jams a slice of smoked salmon with some brie between two chunks of bread and bites into it. ‘Look around. Isn’t it great?’
It is quite windy on deck, but the sun is setting down, and the sky is a glorious shade of pink, blending with the silver rolling waves in the horizon. The sea is calm and endless; the shore quickly fades away. The serenity of my surroundings soothes me into a respectful silence. I glance at Freddie. His face is relaxed and content. I can tell he’s in his element out here on the water.
‘How long have you been sailing?’
‘Forever. My dad used to take me every opportunity he could, for as long as I can remember. He showed me the ropes. He would go on fishing trips with his mates and I’d tag along. I like it here – it’s so peaceful. We’re going to sail around the Greek Islands, you and me.’
‘Really? Who says?’
‘I do. I checked the holiday chart. We can both take a week off at the end of September. High key love the Caribbean too. You’d go crazy for it. December would be a good time. We could go just after Christmas if you wanted to spend it with your folks.’
Freddie making plans for both of us seems sweet and silly. I don’t have the heart to disillusion him at this moment. Freddie feels like a plaster over a bruise – useless but reassuring somehow. I fold my legs under myself and rub my arms. ‘It’s a bit chilly up on deck. Shall we retreat to the saloon?’
Freddie gives me a quick peck on the forehead before I can protest, picks up the tray of food and makes his way downstairs.
He settles me in the lounge with a cup of tea, my Cadbury bar, and a velvety throw over my lap.
‘I have something to show you.’ Freddie hands me a leather-bound folder.
Dozens of drawings on tracing paper come spilling out when I open it. Some are only palm-sized, some are ten inches wide, some fill the A4 page. I leaf through them in amazement. A few intricate flower sketches, a thorny rose wrapped around a feather, a 3D butterfly, the silhouette of a flock of birds in the moonlight.
‘What are these?’
‘Cover-up tattoo designs. I’ve been working on these since last Sunday, staying up late at night. You didn’t make things easy for me this week either, piling work on me.’ Surprisingly, he seems bashful.
‘They must have taken you hours! They’re gorgeous! You did all these for me?’
‘I’m not finished. I wanted to show you the word FREDDIE spelled in different fonts. I thought you might want to get my name tattooed.’
I burst out laughing, ‘You’re priceless. I honestly love them. I’m astounded. You’re an exceptional artist! You could have a career doing this.’ I pause at a sketch of a shooting star, and trace the outline with my index finger. ‘I appreciate the time and effort you put into them. Thank you, Freddie.’
‘You’re welcome. I wanted to make you feel better about it. See? There is hope. You could also just have some words instead. I might go for citius altius fortius for my cover-up.’
‘I know that one. Faster stronger higher. I’d like a quote too, but these are beautiful. I could have both! A design with a quote underneath. Oh! This one.’ I pick up a cherry tree blossom sketch with Japanese calligraphy.
‘It’s very you, I think. Feminine and pretty. Wait, I’ll show you how it looks on a shoulder.’
He removes his T-shirt and lets me place the drawing over his shoulder blade.
‘You need to consider I’m taller than you, so in comparison the design will look bigger on your back.’
I reposition the sketch on his back so the cherry blossom tree trunk hides the two-letter tattoo F U. ‘It could work!’
‘Your fingers are freezing!’ Freddie exclaims when I touch his skin as I flatten the tracing paper over his back.
He suddenly turns to face me and wraps my cold hands in his.
He edges closer to me, his face intense.
‘Carla, do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to see you every day, walking around the office, oblivious to me? I struck up a conversation with you once, but you took no notice of me whatsoever. I never wanted to try too hard because I knew you had a boyfriend and you two were college sweethearts. But on Saturday, when we met in the club, you poured your heart out to me about Ben.’
‘I did?’ I only have a vague recollection of discussing Ben with Freddie. A fair bit of the night, including the trip to the tattoo parlour, is still hazy.
‘He’s not worthy of you. All the stuff you said, how you’ve been together for years but he’s still not sure whether you’re the one? You deserve better than that. Ben, unless he’s crazy, will beg you to come back. Do not make that mistake. You told me how many times you guys broke up and started over again. You can’t be his whim, the safety net he runs back to whenever he changes his mind. How long will he keep playing that game? Hell. If I were him, I swear to God, I would never let you go.’
Freddie pulls me into his arms and whispers earnestly, ‘I might come across as brash or cocky, but it’s not who I am at all. I’m quite insecure. I still can’t believe you were mine for a night. You, Carla. I’d give anything, anything, for that night to last a lifetime. You think I don’t know you, but I do. You’re beautiful inside and out. You’re an achiever. You’re kind. I’m sorry if you’ve heard it all before. I fell for you the first time I saw you. It was at the mud run you got the who
le department to do for Save the Children. You held off to cheer the girls who were lagging then sprinted in the end to catch up with the guys and came second just behind Matt. You were covered in mud, but you were unbelievably gorgeous. I handed you a bottle of water after the finish line, you gave me a hug and laughed at the dirt you left on my shirt. You had me right there and then. You had me the way nothing ever had me before. The earth could have opened up and swallowed me I wouldn’t have known. Because I was all yours from that very second. I don’t show it, but I feel so vulnerable when I’m around you. Like I’m wide open and you could shoot an arrow straight through me if you wanted to. God knows I didn’t ask for this. Fall for the prettiest, brightest woman in the office, obviously taken, and out of my league. How stupid.’
He gently cups my face. ‘Men are always afraid to sound cheesy, right? I am now, both afraid and cheesy, but I need to ask you to give me a chance. Please. I like you, Carla. I want you. I want to be with you.’
Being in his arms feels so good it must be wrong. It is wrong. Like the last drink, the one for the road, you shouldn’t have had. It tastes so exquisitely sweet, until it turns into a raging hangover the next morning.
I sigh, ‘It’s not a good idea. There’s no way it’s going to work. You’re so much younger than me. It’ll only end in heartache. Can’t you see that?’
‘You’re scared because you’ve been hurt too many times in the past. I’m different. You know it. It feels so right when we’re together. The way your body fits with mine. The way we have a laugh when you let your guard down.’
I avoid his gaze. He compels me to look into his eyes. I could lose myself in them. An ocean of molten chocolate and gold. I wish I could swim in it and let its waves cover every inch of my skin and penetrate my pores until we’re one. My part of me wants him to stop talking. Another part of me wants to keep on telling me how much he wants me. Gosh, I hope he can’t read my thoughts.
‘I’m touched by your attention. But it’s just been so quick. I don’t know where I am right now, Freddie. It might just be an infatuation.’
His thumbs slowly trace feathery light swirls on my lips and cheeks, each one making my will falter.
‘Stop pushing me away. Let me show you what we could be. I proved it to you this week. The way we work together in the office – we understand each other, I know what you need before you can even articulate it. We’re a brilliant team. You and me, deep down, you know it could be something great. Look, I’m sorry I forced your hand to join me on the boat. I would never want you to do anything against your will. You mean too much to me, Carla. You can stay in the guest cabin tonight. I would hate to think you’d only sleep with me under the influence.’
His scent, his hands on my skin, the proximity of his bare shoulders, make me dizzy. Throwing caution to the wind, I meet him with an eager kiss. ‘Shut up, Freddie. You are a bad influence.’
I push him back on the sofa and sit on his lap. I’m ready to unleash a week’s worth of sexual frustration. Freddie unbuttons my blouse, his movements deliberately slow. He pulls my bra down, freeing my breasts. My nipples are already pert with desire. His hands roll over them, alternating rough and tender strokes, making me writhe and moan. He hoists my skirt up and without preamble pulls my thong to the side and starts to rub down my mound, slick with anticipation. He clutches my hair and pulls my head back to rest on his shoulder, exposing my neck, where he leaves a trail of passionate kisses. I thrust my hips, hungry for more of him.
‘Just fuck me, Freddie, please,’ I implore him, panting.
Freddie fumbles with his shorts for a second and obliges me. I gasp at the first thrust, relishing the full extent of his length inside me. I grip his thighs to steady myself and take a deep breath.
He takes hold of my waist with both hands and plunges me onto him. He lifts me up and down effortlessly, his pace unforgiving. I lose my bearings, overwhelmed by the exquisite sensation of him filling me up. Every jolt brings me closer and closer to the point of no return. I’m coming, yes, I’m coming. Harder than I ever have before. Free-fall, stars bursting behind my eyes, calling out his name as I pulse around him
Chapter 13
Flaming Giraffe
Flaming Giraffe
Ingredients
60 ml Kahlua
30 ml butterscotch schnapps
30 ml 151-proof rum
Pour the Kahlua into a double shot glass.
Add the butterscotch schnapps.
Float 151-proof rum on top and set on fire.
Blow out before drinking
Louise
Monday. Fernhill Grange Spa. 9 am.
I’m back at the spa. This is dreadful. It is like coming back to your daytime job at the chippie after being kicked out of boot camp on The X Factor – almost there, but not quite there yet.
‘Hi Louisa! How are you feeling? You were out for a while! They had to call in temps to cover you.’ Emma drops her voice. ‘Nikki told us about you-know-what. Penicillin?’
‘Uh huh.’ I hesitate, wondering if penis-ailing might be the latest in-vogue sexual practice.
‘Oh, are you allergic? They put you on a month’s-worth of antibiotics then.’ Emma leans in and whispers, ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. My cousin had syphilis too. The nooky ban the doctor ordered to prevent her infecting partners drove her nuts. Just be careful not to mix alcohol and antibiotics.’
Isn’t syphilis a disease like HIV or hepatitis? Bloody Emily, is that her idea of a joke? She could have just told Nikki I had come down with a common cold or stomach flu. I can’t trust my own sister to handle something as straightforward as calling in sick for me. No wonder Chris, the gym supervisor who always flirts with me, wasn’t his usual chatty self this morning. Knowing Emma, the whole of the gym and spa staff think I have syphilis by now.
‘Anything I can do for you, just give me a shout.’ Emma taps me reassuringly on the shoulder, then wipes her hand discreetly on her tunic.
Great. I’m going to be treated as a leper by my colleagues until I publicly announce I’m in the clear.
‘Indeed, Emma. As you’re kindly offering, I’d like to swap my weekends with you. I know you have the kids and all that, but I could really do with spending more time with my mother, who works full-time Monday to Friday. She’s a real comfort to be around, and I do feel a little knocked sideways by this illness,’ I murmur as if I was ready for the hospice.
‘Sure, I can have Dave, or his mom, look after the kids until you get better. I’ll speak to them, and I’ll ask Nikki to change the staff rota.’ Emma nods, all understanding.
‘Thanks so much, Emma, I really appreciate it.’ I beam.
This fake syphilis business has its upsides! I can have my weekends free again – and possibly some time off for a few imaginary surgery visits.
I check my messages once more. Nothing from Nick. What did I expect? That he was going to pursue me? What a waste of time the trip has been. At least it cost me naff all. Nick is more than an infatuation, though. I like him. If only he gave me any sign of interest. He’s the first man I’ve ever met who can resist my charms. Better move on and sign up to the next Entrepreneur Meetup. That pretending not to drink business was getting me down anyway. I’ll make sure my next target is a drinker – and a meat eater.
It’s already time for my first client.
Great. I can just tell she’s a talker. I show her to my manicure station and don’t bother to offer her a beverage. I know from experience hydrated people talk more.
‘So, what are we having today?’
‘French, please. I’d like the cuticles tidied up but not messed with. Pushed back is OK, but no cutting please. Nails filed in one direction only, square with rounded edges.’
‘Choose your colours.’ I bluntly order her.
The lady gets up to leisurely examine the nail polishes on the wall rack. She finally picks up three shades of pink and inspects the label on one of the bottles. I enunciate loudly, �
�I recommend Wedding Bubbly for a pink nude and Mountain Snow for the tips. In your own time.’
‘I was checking the label for triphenyl phosphate. I love my manicures, but I’m wary of the chemicals in them. Roughly 50% of nail polishes have TPP. Your body can absorb it through your nails, believe it or not. It’s been linked to disrupting hormones. Have you heard about formaldehyde, toluene and dibutyl phthalate? They’re called the Toxic Trio.’
Yada yada yada.
It’s fine with me if the client is going to talk nonsense during her allocated appointment time instead of having her nails done. I’ll just have to rush and botch the job – no big deal.
She finally chooses a salmon nude and a pearly white. She waffles on as I set to work.
‘I just love to get some pamper time before going on holidays. I trawled around all the shops this morning, desperately looking for a pair of black wide fit sandals. Impossible to find. I sometimes buy a bigger size to be more comfortable when there’s a model I fancy which doesn’t come in wide fit, but there are limits to what you can purchase. You don’t want to be walking around in clown’s shoes!’
Great – my client is a big-footed verbally incontinent soggy mop who is going to bore me to tears in the next thirty minutes.
‘I still need to buy a kaftan. Can’t find my old one anywhere in the house. I can’t go away without a kaftan, can I? With it on, I always feel like I’m really on holiday.’
If she discusses underwear next, I will throw the nail varnish at her head.
‘I’m flying tomorrow, see? 10 am flight from Gatwick. What about you – are you going anywhere nice this summer?’
‘No, I’m not going away,’ I mutter gruffly to discourage her from making further conversation. Never again to Abu Dhabi, in any case.
#Toots Page 19