It was the smell that hit Kate as she opened the door. It wasn’t altogether terrible, but there was sharpness to it. She wondered if Sarah and Andy had changed their plans and decided to stay home, but realised there were no cars on the drive. It was all quiet, so she ushered Amy upstairs.
“Do your teeth and I’ll come and run you a bath in a minute,” said Kate to a weary Amy, who simply nodded and went upstairs.
Kate went into the kitchen and surveyed the devastation. It looked like closing time on market day, when everything that’s left ends up scattered everywhere for someone else to clear up. The oven was on and it appeared to be the source of the smell, which was considerably stronger in the kitchen. She opened it tentatively and was hit by a wave of smoke. She switched off the oven and opened the window. What was going on?
As she walked towards the stairs, she saw that someone was in the living room. There, on the sofa, lay Tim, wearing her favourite Cath Kidston apron and sound asleep, an empty wine glass on the table next to him. There was a second where she was pleased and relieved that it was Tim, but that feeling passed at lightning speed and left her feeling livid. How dare he break in and cook? She felt the anger bubble up, but she had to contain it just until she’d got Amy into bed; then she could deal with Tim, reclaim her apron and kick him out.
Amy was almost asleep in the bath, so did not complain when Kate suggested that she make it just a quick one tonight as it was school tomorrow. She was soon dried off and into pyjamas. Kate kissed her goodnight and suspected that she would be asleep before she had closed the door. Kate metaphorically rolled her sleeves up and thought through what she was going to say as she went downstairs. She strode into the living room ready for a confrontation, but Tim was gone.
“Wine before dinner?” Tim said smoothly. Kate spun around. Tim was leaning against the kitchen doorway holding out a glass of red wine. “I’ve cooked,” he said, failing to contain the pride in his voice.
“No, you’ve burned,” said Kate, marching over to the cooker and releasing another cloud of smoke.
“Bugger! How? I followed all the instructions.” When the smoke cleared, Kate grabbed the oven gloves and removed her cast-iron casserole dish and placed it on the granite top. They both looked at the strange bubble-burping mass with its thick, black skin.
“Was it a casserole?” she asked,
“Yes. Is it dead?”
“I’m afraid so. Had it been in there long?”
“About two hours.”
“With no lid and on at two hundred and twenty!”
“I wanted to cook you a meal to say sorry and to explain.” He looked contrite, but Kate was still furious about the spoiled weekend away, the ridiculous gifts and now this.
“That hasn’t gone exactly to plan, has it?” Kate’s attention was suddenly drawn to Marmalade, who sauntered into the kitchen, jumped onto the table and left a trail of wet, red paw marks. Kate gasped and rushed to her. Tim saw an opportunity.
“It’s okay, let me sort her out.” He grabbed a cloth from the sink and went to wipe Marmalade’s front paw. She thought it was a game and tried to grab the cloth.
“Where is she bleeding from?” asked Kate, grabbing kitchen roll. Tim paused.
“It’s not blood, Kate, she’s fine. It’s tomato juice from the conservatory.”
“Oh, right.” She was still very confused as to what he was talking about, but she saw that he had avoided an opportunity to lie and come across as the hero, which was a good thing.
“I should probably get going.” Tim sensed this was not going to be the panacea he had hoped for.
“No, I think there’s some tidying up to be done.” They both looked around the kitchen, “and apparently there’s tomato sauce in the conservatory.” On cue, Marmalade licked her front leg and then proceeded to try to spit out a tomato pip and shake the remainder off her paw.
“Tomato juice,” corrected Tim before registering the irate look from Kate. “Yes, of course. Um, where to start?” Kate reluctantly handed him back the apron and a cloth and left him to it. After 30 minutes she found Tim on his hands and knees in the conservatory, wriggling his bottom as he tried to wipe up the tomato.
“Did you throw them at the cat?”
“No!” Tim was shocked that she’d think that. “I dropped them through the window.”
“Because?”
“It’s a long story. Look, I know I’ve ballsed up… yet again. How can I say I’m sorry?” Kate thought for a bit.
“I don’t think you need to.” She knew Tim was never going to change. They’d had an odd friendship and Kate wanted to hold onto that, even if it was going to hurt her.
“But I have to.” Tim stood up, the apron looking as though he’d murdered someone. He took Kate’s hand and she snatched it back, but she sat down next to him all the same.
“Come on, Kate, anything you want, you just have to say and it’s yours.” There was a long pause as Kate stared out at the garden in thought and Tim stared at Kate.
“I’d like to stay friends,” she said.
“I’d like that, too. I’ll always be there for you, Kate. I know you don’t believe me, I’d think you were mad if you did. But I do mean it. If you need anything, I’ll be there.” It was a good speech; she couldn’t place it, but it sounded good. “You must come to the villa another time.”
“Maybe.” Kate smiled, even though she thought it was never going to happen. She’d been caught once; she wouldn’t let that happen again. Tim wasn’t at all his usual relaxed self, he was sitting up very straight and kept looking around the room. Marmalade appeared and made straight for him, leaping onto his lap in an effortless bounce. She walked around in circles, flicked up her tail and gave him a close-up view of her behind. Tim grimaced. Marmalade settled down and started to rhythmically purr and knead her claws into Tim’s knees.
“Ow,” said Tim flinching. “Thank God, it’s stopped. Oh, no it hasn’t! Ow and again. What’s with the rhythmic needles of pain?”
“It’s what they do,” explained Kate.
“What were you? A medieval torturer in a past life or one of the Krays?” he said to the cat.
“You can stroke her. She’s friendly. She likes you,” offered Kate amused. Tim stroked her and she stood up again and paced around in a circle.
“You do that when you’re being friendly. Christ, what do you do when they piss you off?” he addressed Marmalade, who promptly settled back down, facing Tim this time, and proceeded to bury her claws in his scrotum by way of silent reply.
Sarah finished her lemon mousse and relaxed on the bench, looking once again at Amy’s framed picture. “I’m impressed, Mr Shaw, you sure can cook. Who knew?”
“I live on my own and I like food. Don’t tell anyone, but I sometimes watch Saturday Kitchen.” He looked a little shy all of a sudden and started to clear the table.
“I’m shocked!” Sarah said in mock horror as she screwed up her face as the Fleurie and the sweet aftertaste of the lemon mousse met in her mouth. “I hate that bit, I always forget.”
They’d had a great evening. They had just talked and talked about everything and nothing, but they hadn’t talked about them or last night’s kiss. Sarah checked her watch – it was nearly eleven.
“I’ll need to get a cab before midnight or they’ll sting me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Andy looked hesitant. “So that’s the kitchen diner,” he indicated with a sweep of his hand, “and you’ve seen the hall. Would you like to see the living room?” Sarah followed him through to a large room painted in neutral shades. It had a simple fireplace with a huge wooden beam above and a log burner beneath. Two chunky burgundy sofas sat facing the fire and a lone, matching chair, pointed half at the fire and half at a large flat-screen TV. A cream rug lay on the polished wooden floor in front of the fire. As Sarah sat down, Andy switched on his music system as he went past and some swearing rapper blared out.
“Sorry!” he said, switching it to something more mel
odic. Sarah cackled with laughter. He sat down on the sofa next to her, took a deep breath and turned to face her.
“Sarah?”
“Yes,” she said.
“When I kissed you…”
“Technically, I think I kissed you.” Sarah grimaced at her correction, as now really was not the time.
“Right, um, so when we kissed. I liked it,” Good grief! Is that the best you can do? thought Andy, dismayed.
“I liked it, too. I like you.” Sarah paused, feeling as awkward and unsure as Andy, “A lot.”
“You do?” Andy looked genuinely surprised and she loved that about him. She saw the tension in his shoulders disappear.
“Yep, really, I do.” There was a moment when Sarah heard church bells ring, but she shook her head and tried to stop the wine from taking over.
“So, do you want to try the kissing thing again? I’m sorry, I sound like an idiot.”
“You don’t and it’s okay.” She reached out a hand and touched his arm. They both followed it with their eyes. “We could uh…” she didn’t spell it out, “you haven’t shown me upstairs yet.” She knew she was being a total floozy, but she wasn’t hurting anyone and she was due a bit of fun. Andy’s smile spread really slowly as he stared at her.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, I’m very interested in DIY,” she grinned, with a tilt of her head, which made it swim just a little.
“Okay, give me two minutes.” He kissed her quickly, half on the lips, as he jumped up and dashed upstairs two at a time. Left alone, Sarah wondered if she was sure about having sex with Andy. She figured it would be okay. She liked the closeness, even with Shaun – it was never like the films, but she expected that was the same for everyone. Her mother had warned her, “It’s all hype. You’ll be disappointed and you’ll need tissues.” As it turned out, that was actually quite good advice. Andy reappeared, still beaming his beautiful smile and took her hand.
She followed him silently upstairs, but as they neared the top a thought struck her.
“Do you have tissues?” she asked, Andy looked taken aback, but he laughed.
“Ever the romantic. Yes, in the bedside drawer.” He stood behind her, rested one hand on her shoulder, then leaned into her ear and whispered, “From this moment on, it’s all about you,” and he opened the door.
Sarah was glad that Andy had a steadying hand on her, as she wasn’t expecting to see what greeted her. Loads of twinkling candles in small groups were dotted around a good-sized bedroom, their vanilla scent mingling with the perfume of the roses that were placed in small vases. A huge bed with cushions took centre stage and the room was flanked by floor-to- ceiling wardrobes.
“You can go in,” Andy said softly, “if you want to,” he added quickly, still unsure. Sarah stepped inside and ran her fingers over the ash wood of the wardrobes.
“Nice finish! Do you do flat-pack?”
“No, but I do made-to-measure.” God, thought Sarah, that sounded so sexy! Who knew DIY could be a turn-on? Sarah started to feel her confidence return and in two steps she was on the bed.
“Ooh, I love your lamp-shadey chandelier thingy.” The words squeaked out. Was that nerves or too much wine? Probably both. Andy joined her on the bed and then, very gently, he was kissing her. She felt a melting sensation, as if she was just going to liquefy down to nothing, like the candles. Damn! He was good at this. Andy continued his gentle but commanding kisses and then she felt his fingers in her hair and she figured that was her cue to get involved. She reached for his trousers and started tugging at the belt. Andy stopped kissing her and slowly took her hand as he shook his head. His eyes bright and sexy.
“No, I said it’s all about you.” He let her hand drop.
“What does that mean exactly?” Sarah said, propping herself up on an elbow and killing the moment slightly for Andy. He looked a tad exasperated.
“It’s not a question-and-answer session. Please, just trust me. You can stop me at any time, okay? It’s fine to change your mind.”
“Are you into something a bit kinky? ‘Cause it’s okay. Well it might be okay. I’d just like to be forewarned.”
“Sarah, there is no kinky stuff. You just need to relax. I just want to focus on you having a good time.”
“So what shall I be doing?” she asked, her brow furrowing. Andy’s eyes widened, this was not going the way he’d rehearsed it in his mind.
“You’ll be enjoying it. Now shut up, take your clothes off and get into bed,” he said, as he tried to tickle her. Once they were down to their best underwear they slid under the cool white-cotton covers. They kissed some more: long, gentle, exploring kisses as their bodies felt the warmth of each other. Andy leaned away and gently stroked Sarah’s cheek. She opened her eyes slowly.
“So, that was starters. Are you ready for the main course?”
“I’ll have the sausage, please,” she said with a giggle. Andy couldn’t help but laugh, although this probably wasn’t the oh-so romantic moment he’d hoped for. Here we go, thought Sarah, brace yourself and she quickly thought she shouldn’t be so unkind; men couldn’t help it, that’s just the way they were programmed. Kissing, shagging, snoring.
“You really are gorgeous, Sarah. You have a frightful gob on you, but you’re amazing. Now, close those beautiful eyes.” Sarah stared at him. She wanted to ask why she had to close her eyes, but apparently it wasn’t a question-and-answer session.
“Close them,” he whispered, as he leaned over and kissed each eyelid, and she automatically closed them. She felt him throw off the duvet. She felt his warm breath against her cheek and then small, soft kisses were placed slowly along her bottom lip. Her mouth had now fallen open and she was aware that she was breathing heavily. The trail moved painstakingly slowly to her neck and then to her ear, “Please relax, Sarah, trust me.”
“I do,” she breathed and the church bells chimed in her head again. There were more soft kisses and then there was nibbling, sending an alert to her nether regions, which until then had been in deep hibernation. Andy took his time and very gradually took his trail of kisses to her breasts. She giggled involuntarily and opened one eye. Andy gave her a stern look and she closed it again. Andy tugged at her nipple through her best lace bra, whilst his fingers gently circled the other. This was a revelation – Sarah had always thought that they weren’t that sensitive. Shaun had squeezed them in the past, but it had always been a little too hard and it certainly hadn’t had the effect this was having. This was unbelievable; apparently her nipples were directly wired to her girly bits. She realised that her back was arched, so she quickly returned it to the bed. Wanton hussy, she thought, as she smiled to herself.
Andy saw her smile and it gave him the reassurance he needed to continue. She was happy and that was all that he wanted out of tonight. Andy’s kisses moved slowly to her tummy button.
“If you laugh at the stretch marks, I’ll burn your bum with a candle,” she said, still keeping her eyes closed.
“You’ll set off the smoke alarm if you do, and I’ll have to stop.”
“No, don’t stop.”
Andy relentlessly traced kisses all over her body until she thought she could stand it no more. He was now near her shoulder and he whispered, “Turn over,” which she did in a flash. If he likes it doggy, that’s fine, Sarah thought, although she’d never liked it that way with Shaun. It had felt even more impersonal than it usually was. Sarah’s thoughts were pulled back to the moment when she smelt a strong waft of vanilla stronger than the candles.
“I’m going to use some oil,” said Andy softly. Sarah was about to joke about lubrication and then decided against it. She was aware that she had killed a couple of moments already this evening with her sharp tongue. He undid her bra. Then she felt Andy’s hands on her back, sliding over her shoulders. She felt the warm oil on her skin as he proceeded to give her the most amazing massage, which went on and on. Andy was sitting astride her, his warm legs pinning her to the b
ed, his firm hands sweeping over her body. He moved himself further down and snuck his hands under her pants and started to massage her bottom. Although a little surprised, she found she liked it.
“I bet they don’t do that at Fancy what’s its name Hall Day Spa,” she muttered. He worked his way down both hips and then up her inner thighs. Her back was arched again. Total hussy! How did she not know she was doing it until her arse was stuck up in the air like a sleeping policeman.
Sarah wanted sex more than she’d ever wanted it in her life before. Andy was kissing her neck. “Sit up now,” he breathed and she shot up quickly, keen to oblige, but very close to knocking him out with the back of her head. He slid off her bra and concentrated his attention on her breasts, which merrily sprang back to attention.
Sarah didn’t know how much of this she could stand, but was keen to find out. Andy shifted a little and she felt the cloth of his boxers at her back and there was something very interesting being restrained down there. Andy tantalisingly slowly slid his hand down her stomach and into her pants. Oh, sweet torture, this should be illegal, or at least very heavily taxed, it’s that good, she thought, as a small moan escaped.
Her body didn’t know which way to move; her left nipple was about to go into orbit like an errant firework and her groin wasn’t hers to control at all – someone must be operating it by remote control because she certainly couldn’t control its writhing. Something was happening the like of which she’d never known before.
“Ready?” gasped Andy.
“For what?”
“Dessert,” he smiled against her ear and the expelled air sent another shiver through her, all heading in one direction. Andy looked at her for a moment, kneeling there, softly panting. He’d done that to her and he was amazed; this was a first for him.
“If it’s anything like the lemon mousse, then yes please.”
“I didn’t get these tips from James Martin, but I think it’ll be on a par. Turn around and open your eyes.” Sarah opened her eyes and blinked as they quickly adjusted to the flickering candlelight. She couldn’t stop herself throwing her arms around Andy’s neck and pulling him to her.
It Started at Sunset Cottage Page 31