by Sam Cullan
Chapter Fifteen
“Damn, I left my towel at the chapel.” Will was rummaging in the back of the Rover.
Alice was waiting impatiently by the house door, doing a poorly choreographed, cross-legged jig accompanied by a series of facial contortions that most sentient beings would interpret as a sign of great discomfort.
“Will!”
“Hang on, the shopping's all over the place.”
“I'm gonna wet my pants.”
“Again?” Will smirked.
“Just give me the keys.”
Will lobbed the keys at Alice, whose hands were clasped firmly between her legs. She glared, but wasn't about to start a fight when her bladder was threatening suicide. Bending down to scoop up the bundle, she made her feelings fairly clear.
“Asshole.”
“Not right now, dear.”
Alice fumbled with the lock. “Will!”
“No, you don’t lift the handle to unlock it.”
“Stupid door.” Alice flung the door open, darted inside and muttered more obscenities as she realized she needed to shut the front door before she could get into the bathroom. “Stupid house.”
Will was grinning. “Don't forget to take your knickers off.”
Alice smiled, not because she thought his remark funny but because knickers was such an odd word. She let out a loud sigh as her bladder was finally able to relinquish the aftermath of three pints of strong ale. She rarely drank before she met Will, never dark beer, and she'd wanted to pee since just before a bloody zebra and a mad monk with conjunctivitis had scared the wits out of her. She'd done well to hold it in this long, and the relief she now felt eclipsed the relief of escaping a gruesome death.
“I'll need a change of clothes.”
“Oh, you haven't …?”
“No, but some of us change daily, not weekly.”
“You can wash them here if you want. I'm not driving to Broadford tonight.”
“OK.” Alice had no desire to leave the house, which was warm, dry, light, and free of wild animals and serial killers.
Alice joined Will, who was stocking the fridge with beer and wine. “Can I get a beer?”
“May I have a beer.”
“If you want.” Alice smiled.
“I meant ...”
“I know what you meant. I promise to study your peculiar brand of English harder.”
“My brand? I'm English - this is England.”
Alice laughed and stuck her tongue out. She didn't even have to tell him how easy he was to wind-up. Will responded with his tongue, with which he tried to assault her nose. Alice was too quick for him.
“You're so funny. Can I keep you?”
“As long as it's in the manner to which you've become accustomed.” Will quite fancied being a kept man, especially if his keeper was a gorgeous, young, blond millionaire. He considered dropping to his knees and pleading, but decided to play it cool. Pleading was a last resort, and he'd refrain from playing that card for a day or two.
Alice looked around the kitchen, which had barely been used since she arrived – just the odd cup of odd coffee or pond tea. For a man who didn't cook much, he sure knew how to mess up a kitchen. The surfaces were strewn with empty jars, cartons, bottles and plates. She found the washing machine, crammed into a space between the oven and sink.
“Does it dry?”
“No. We can hang things on radiators.” Will normally dried clothes outside, but at this time of year the meagre hours of sunshine and damp air meant that was a futile exercise and his solution was to avoid getting them wet too often - by not washing them too often.
“Are the radiators on?”
“No, but they heat-up quick.”
It wasn't very cold in his house, even without heating. He'd rather throw on an extra sweater than waste money on gas and electric.
“Do you have anything I can wear?”
“You won't need clothes when the heating's on.”
“If you think I'm gonna sit here stark naked ...”
Will smiled and flicked his tongue. “You can borrow a shirt and shorts. I don't have any dresses, not in your size.”
“OK, might as well do it now.”
Will led Alice to his wardrobe - a teak and plywood, faux-deco, 1950s relic from his parents' house. It was crammed with all the clothes he possessed, and he picked out an unworn, neatly folded white T-shirt, and chequered blue/green boxers - which he'd worn only once because he generally liked to keep his dangly bits under control. Alice was happy with the choice, but seemed reluctant to change.
“I'd like some privacy.”
Will had been waiting in anticipation of the pronunciation, and his patience was rewarded. “Priv-uh-see.”
“It's pronounced private, so it's privacy.”
“It's from the Latin privatus, and the French say privé.”
“You really need to get out more.”
“How do you spell your middle name?” Will was on a mission.
“Huh?”
“Humour me.”
Alice just wanted to change out of her damp, muddy, smelly clothes. She sighed, “Aitch-a-”
Will interrupted, satisfied with today's lesson. “OK, just checking. If you'd said haitch I would've spanked your ass. Nothing makes me angrier than people who say haitch. They should all be shot.”
Alice detected not a hint of jest, and grasped the opportunity, “Haitch-hey-”
Will swung a palm at her backside, but Alice was anticipating it and the momentum took him past her swerving body into the wardrobe. Alice howled. Will clumsily staggered to his feet and removed a pair of grey underpants from his head.
“I actually agree with that - apart from the shooting bit.” Alice then tried unsuccessfully to smother her howling laughter.
“Good. Well, I'll leave you to it.” Will grabbed a shirt and shorts for himself, thinking it'd be all he needed if the heating had to go on, and slunk downstairs. Alice, experienced in quick costume changes, was only ten seconds behind. “Err, priv-uh-see?”
Alice walked backwards up the stairs, her protruding tongue mocking Will. He quickly changed, realizing he'd forgotten underwear and the shorts were baggy. Sod it. He stuffed his clothes in the washing machine, and Alice, who'd been watching anyway and had already sneaked up on him, pushed past.
“Don't want you handling my privates. Or should that be priv-ets?” She forced her bundle of laundry in the drum.
Will tutted. “You need to spread them out a bit.”
“Well, mom does most of my laundry.”
“How old are you?”
“I'm a busy gal.” She teased the garments apart, until Will was satisfied. “Right, you can turn it on. My mom ...”
“I got it,” Will frowned - he was now talking like her, “I'll do it.”
Alice left him in charge of the machinery and slumped in the sofa, suckling an Old Bob. She'd acquired a taste for the hoppy stuff - a fact that had not escaped Will. He opened a bottle of red.
“Not beer?”
“Not enough for both of us.”
“Aww you're good to me. What's that?”
“Californian Zinfandel.”
“Let me try.”
Will reluctantly passed the glass, but held on tight to the bottle.
“Mmmm not bad, I could drink that.”
“I've no doubt you could, but this is mine.”
“Fight?”
“OK you win.”
“You're no fun!”
“I've had a tough day. Make that three days, or is it four? Not even sure what day it is.”
“Aww, have I messed up your boring life?”
“It needed messing up.” Will smiled through tired eyes.
“Well, I expect a lot from my fans.”
“I'm thinking of cancelling my membership.”
“Shame, I only sleep with fans.”
“It can wait 'til morning.”
“Budge up, I want to stretch out.”
/> “Would you rather I sat on the floor?”
“Yes.”
“Tough.”
Will budged up and Alice swung her legs onto his lap, her head on the cushioned velour arm. Will shifted so he could almost face her, and rested his legs on the table. It was quiet, and he enjoyed it. He also enjoyed looking at her legs, which he considered shapely. They looked smooth - the fine, fair hairs were barely visible even if she didn't wax them. The smooth, pale complexion was consistent from crotch to toe, and he remembered her saying she wasn’t a sun worshipper. Will quite liked tanned skin, but he didn’t like wrinkly old leather and thought she was sensible to avoid too much exposure.
Alice caught him staring. “What?”
“Nice legs.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“About the only part of me that hasn't aged.”
“You're not that old.”
“You could've left out the that.”
“Sorry - you're not old.”
“I am.”
“Dork.” Alice stuck a foot in his midriff. “You're only as old as the woman you feel.”
Will nodded - it was true. He felt 22 when he was feeling her, but when he wasn't, and thought deeply about the situation, he felt even older than his 44 years. It was a conundrum, and he knew he wouldn't always be feeling so in-tune with her. He stroked her tiny foot, marvelling at the complex shape and simple beauty.
“Mmm that's good.” Alice shut her eyes and allowed him to gently massage her feet. He pushed his thumb into the sole of her foot, and guessed from her deep breathing and the occasional sigh, that she didn't mind. For ten minutes he worked his magic on her feet, his strong hands forcing the tiredness and tension away. She lay still and quiet, her soft, pink lips locked in a broad upward curve. Will slid a hand over her heel and squeezed the tendons. Sensing no objections, his palm cupped her calf. It was firmer than it looked, though not quite a dancer's, and he enjoyed pressing his fingertips into the muscle.
“Oh that's good, you should do this for a living.” Alice squirmed and emitted a tiny squeal of delight, as if to back up her statement.
“Tell me when you've had enough.”
“I will, Will.”
Will lifted her legs and ran his fingers from her heel to the back of her knee, watching for a kink in her smile. There was no sign of discomfort, so he continued to explore the back of her thighs, which was something he'd been wanting to do since he met her. His fingers brushed the bottom of the shorts, and he toyed with the idea of slipping accidentally inside them.
“Out of bounds.”
“I wasn't ...”
“I know, but you thought about it.”
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.”
“I can read your mind.”
Will had forgotten she could read his mind. Witch.
Alice hadn't moved or opened her eyes, so he deduced it was not a serious breach of trust. Five minutes of leg stroking passed, and he'd done all he could from that position.
“If you want more, you'll have to move.”
“I'm good.”
“OK.”
“I'll do you sometime.” Alice was reading his mind again.
Will's eyes lit up. “My back. My back really needs a massage.” He suffered from constant pain and knotted muscle.
“OK, later. Promise.”
Alice pushed her feet into Will's crotch and laid her arms across her belly. Will had never seen her so relaxed or felt so close to her, and he resisted the urge to move even though he was starting to feel discomfort in his back and legs.
“Comfortable?”
“Not really.”
“Move.”
“Where?”
Alice moved her legs apart and pointed to the gap. Will looked bemused.
“I can't fit in there.”
“Boasting again?”
“I mean ...”
Alice got up. “You get comfortable and I'll fit in with you. Unless you want to go to bed.”
“Gotta wait for the washing.”
“Do it tomorrow.”
“Can't leave it in the machine all night, it'll stink.”
Alice had no idea if it would stink or not, but bowed to his superior knowledge of laundry. She got up and waited while Will positioned himself. He settled, lying with his legs outstretched and his back against the arm, which he bolstered with cushions.
“Where am I going?”
Will pointed gleefully to the gap between his legs, and Alice squeezed herself in, lying back with her head on his chest.
“Comfy?”
“Not as comfy as I was.” She was content to use Will as a big, secure cushion and pleased when he wrapped his arms round her, but didn't want to let him know how pleased. She wriggled and settled into his embrace.
“You've not said much since we got back.” Will was thinking back to the apparition, wondering if it was a trick of the light, or a side-effect of the beer-and-fear concoction.
“Trying not to think too much.”
“I don't believe in ghosts, but ...”
“I know. What did you see?”
“Well, it was pale, greyish. It looked like a man, maybe a monk. It had red eyes. It seemed to be in a hole - I only saw the top half.”
Alice shuddered with the realization that he'd seen exactly what she'd seen, and it wasn't just a trick of the light, or her over-active imagination. “Same here.”
“So is that good or bad?”
“Good - I'm not nuts. Bad - there are ghosts. Good - there might be an amulet.”
“I don't think he'd part with it, and what use is a ghostly amulet anyway?”
Alice hadn't thought of that. “I didn't think of that. Was he wearing it?”
“Don't remember.”
“Maybe his spirit is in the amulet, which is buried underground.”
“Sounds like a good reason not to take it. Unless you want to share your apartment with a murderous monk.”
Alice didn't need a lodger, murderous or not. “He'd be a lousy house-mate. Bet he can't operate a washing machine”
Will tried logic. “We've both read the same stuff, so maybe we did just imagine it.”
“Was there anything about his eyes in the research?”
“Hmm, not sure.”
“Why did we both see red eyes?”
“He died in a fire.”
“Maybe.” Alice had done enough thinking for tonight, and snuggled into Will.
“We have to go back.”
“We will, Will. Tomorrow.”
“In daylight.”
“Absolutely.”
“I need my towel.”
“I need a cuddle.”
“I can manage that, but don't fall asleep.”
Alice snored.
“I know you don't snore.”
“Shut up, and be quiet.”
“Same thing.”
Alice stuck her tongue out. Will tried to lick it with his but only succeeded in slurping over her nose, which Alice found neither amusing nor erotic. She wiped her nose and blew a kiss through puckered lips. Will spotted some slurp on her nose and wiped it away with a gentle stroke of his thick index finger. Alice took hold of his finger and licked it, before pushing into her mouth. She sucked it hard and opened her eyes in time to see Will's jaw drop open. She stared into his eyes as she teased him, then wrinked and withdrew it, smiling innocently.
“You're the Devil.” Will thought she'd taken the game a suck too far.
“You're the Devil, I'm all sweet an' innocent. Just fancied a lollipop.”
“Devil Woman.”
“Is that a lollipop in your pants?”
Will shifted uneasily, embarrassed. “You know what you are?”
“A bad girl?”
“P.T.”
Alice had heard the expression, though no-one had called her a prick-tease to her face. She was secretly very flattered that men found her attractive, but rarely was the feeling mutual. She didn't really fancy Wil
l's body – not all of it anyway, though he had nice arms and legs - but she fancied his mind, and began to wonder if Will was the sort of guy she'd experiment with, if only temporarily. If she didn't care about his feelings so much she might have taken the game to the next stage, but she needed to be one hundred percent sure neither of them would regret it. It didn't stop her shifting her butt up onto his bulging shorts, and she imagined what it would feel like inside her. She was comforted knowing Will would be up for it - if, and when, she was sure. She found her hand slipping under the waist of her shorts, and quickly withdrew it. She could - would - deal with that later.
“This is uncomfortable.”
“Gee, make your mind up.”
“I mean, being so close to …. but not quite … it makes me feel uncomfortable. Not to mention frustrated.”
Alice smiled. She rolled over and lay on top of him, her thighs on his thighs, her belly on his, and she parted her legs to allow him some breathing space. “Is that better?”
“Hardly - now it can move around.”
Alice giggled. “Shall we just fuck and get it over with?”
Will was a little uncomfortable with her plain talking. “No.” He would have, gladly, but he figured her horniness was down to factors unrelated to her sexual desire or love for him.
“Do you want me to sort that out?”
“NO!” Will felt dirty now, and not only because he was in need of a shower. If there was to be any orgasmic action, it would need to be mutually agreed and mutually satisfying.
Alice had anticipated the answer, but not the forcefulness. “Sorry, I'm a bit mixed-up tonight.”
“I know - it's fine. Cuddle?”
“Sure.”
At that point, the whining from the spin dryer stopped and Will breathed a sigh of relief. In one minute, he'd have an excuse to break away from the temptress - something his weakening will power would struggle with. Click. “Washing's done.” Will almost threw Alice onto her back, leapt up, adjusted his shorts, and gleefully pulled the damp clothing slowly from the drum.
Alice curled up on her side and slid a hand inside the baggy boxers. She was moist, but she'd known that. It felt good, but she knew it would feel better if the hand wasn't hers. “I'm off to bed, do you mind?”
Will didn't mind at all. He needed to cool off. “Fine by me. You can warm it up.”
“Not sure it needs warming up.” Alice visited the bathroom while Will carefully arranged the laundry on racks that attached to the radiators.
“Night.” Alice didn't want Will to associate bed with anything other than sleeping - or she was trying to convince herself it meant nothing sexual need happen.
“Night.” Will didn't want Alice to think he was planning to jump her.
Alice climbed the stairs and crossed the miscellaneous rugs scattered across the bedroom floor, enjoying the fluffy pile between her toes. She got into bed and snuggled under the covers, quickly realizing she was far too hot. Maybe Will turned up the heat, to get me naked. Whatever the reason, she couldn't sleep with a shirt on. She pulled off her top and snuggled back under the duvet. Darn it. Might as well go all the way. She pulled down her boxers and flung them over the end of the bed, where Will wouldn't spot them. Stretched out on her tummy, grinding her hips into the mattress, she thought how very comfortable it was without clothes restricting her movements, or making her sweaty bits more sweaty. Maybe I should become a nudist. Or is it naturist?
She was so comfortable, she didn't really care what Will thought, felt, or got an eyeful of. This was all about her and she knew Will would understand that. It was how he was, and she was beginning to get it - the freedom of doing what you wanted, as long as nobody got hurt. Well, somebody got hurt tonight, but that was their fault for being dirty, lecherous creeps.
Alice was pushing her crotch into the bed and realized she was in danger of making a wet patch. She decided to wait until Will was asleep - it would be fairer on him, and quite exciting for her to do it next to him without him knowing.
Is that bad? Nah. Just do it, Alice.