by Lizzy Grey
“And lose out on a free lunch?”
He laughed. “Hungry?”
“I am, actually,” she said as she sat down.
“So am I.” He passed her a menu card. “Choose away.”
“I think I’ll have the prawn salad and a strawberry and banana smoothie,” she told him without having to consult the menu.
“Good choice.” Lifting a laptop bag from the floor, he slid his laptop inside and closed it, before placing it on the vacant chair beside him. “I’ll go and order.”
She watched him as he wound his way through the tables to the counter. He was cute. Trying a bit too hard but if he’s been out of the whole dating scene for years she couldn’t blame him for that.
Her mind then swung back to Stephen. How was he getting on with his mother? Mrs Connor was just about bearable in one of her rare good moods, but get on her wrong side and the rest of the Connor family back home in Cork would be sure to hear every last word. And not via the telephone.
“Okay?” Jack returned with their smoothies, passed one to her, and sat down. “You seemed miles away.”
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”
“So where are you from?”
“Hackney.” She stirred her smoothie and licked the straw. “You?”
“Hampstead, but I’ve just bought an apartment in Leefield Mews.”
Extremely expensive and exclusive. “Very nice.”
“Yes, it is.”
“These look delicious.” She saw their salads approaching. “Thank you.” She smiled at the waitress who placed their plates on the table in front of them.
“Yes, the food is always good in here. Look.” He leant forward. “Can I see you again?”
“Do you never work? You’ll get the sack.”
He shrugged. “Only if I choose to sack myself. Please?”
“I could buy you lunch tomorrow?” she found herself offering.
“Here?”
“If you like?”
“Okay.” He gave her a grin. “Same time?”
She nodded and they began their meal. Twenty minutes later, they left the sandwich bar together and stood rather awkwardly outside on the pavement.
“Thank you for lunch, Jack.”
“No, thank you. I actually look forward to lunchtime now.” Bending forward, he kissed her lips, slowly licked them, then kissed her mouth. “Tomorrow,” he whispered and walked away from her.
Bloody hell. Bloody hell, that had been...what..? Too much, she decided but put it down to him being out of the running for years. She leaned against the wall of the sandwich bar, watching him turn the corner at the end of the street, before turning away.
For the first time since she and Tommy moved into the apartment, Stephen wasn’t home until after Tommy had been put to bed. He went into Tommy’s bedroom and kissed him goodnight before joining Becca in the living area.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, reaching for the remote control and muting the volume on the television as he sat down on the sofa opposite her.
“Yes, I have, thanks.”
“So?” she urged. “What did your mother say?” Or do?
He grimaced, making her heart sink. “I’m not going to lie to you, Becca. She wasn’t happy.”
She rarely is. “And your dad?”
“Dad was shocked. But happy for me.”
“So now what? Are they willing to meet Tommy?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?” she echoed. “They either want to meet him or they don’t.”
“Becca, be reasonable. It’s been a huge shock for them. I’m going to give them a couple of days to let the news sink in and then ring them.”
“Okay.” Picking up the remote control, she restored the volume on the television. “I got the job, by the way.”
“That’s great.” He gave her a grin. “Congratulations.”
Even though she was fifteen minutes early, Jack was waiting for her outside the sandwich bar the following lunchtime.
“I thought I was early,” she began.
“I didn’t want to waste a second. Look.” Taking her hand, he led her a little way along the street. “I want you so badly you wouldn’t believe. You can tell me to get stuffed, that you’re not cheap and all that, but I’ve thought about nothing but fucking you for the past twenty-four hours.” He stopped to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. Jesus, what the hell must you think?”
“I think you need to find yourself a prostitute,” she snapped. “Try looking around King’s Cross Station.”
“Oh, what?” he retorted. “You’ve been giving me the come-on all along.”
“Wrong. You’ve been coming on to me all along. Now get stuffed I’m not that cheap.”
Turning, she rushed away from him down the street. She let herself into the apartment building and, ignoring the lift, she ran up the stairs and opened the door to the apartment. Throwing her coat and handbag onto the hall floor, she went straight into the living area, only to find Stephen – who she thought would have been at work – and a middle-aged woman with dyed black hair, admiring the decor.
“Oh, this is lovely, Stephen.”
“Thanks. Yes, it did turn out pretty well.”
“I’m definitely going to get my apartment done like this. It’s huge… Oh, my God.” Sensing that she and Stephen weren’t alone, the woman whirled around.
“Shit,” Stephen began. He seemed to be completely at a loss. “Becca, I, er…”
“Hello, Stephen. Fucking your way to the top, I see.”
“Becca, no, Barbara isn’t my chief inspector.”
“So this is Becca?” Barbara asked him. “Maybe now..?”
“No,” Stephen shouted and Becca saw Barbara jump. “No way. Absolutely not.”
“Who the hell are you, Barbara?” Becca demanded. “I’m the mother of Stephen’s five-year-old son. I moved in last week. Am I a bit in the way?”
“Becca,” Stephen began again. “Becca…”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sod you, Stephen. Don’t let me stop you fucking around. It never has in the past.”
Snatching her bag and coat from the hall floor, she left the apartment, ran down the stairs and out onto the street. Around the corner, Jack was still standing where she had left him, smoking a cigarette. She slowed to a walk and he glanced at her in surprise.
“Give me that.” She indicated the cigarette.
“You smoke?”
“Maybe. Where’s your apartment again?”
He stared at her in bewilderment. “Leefield Mews.”
“Okay look, I’m not bonkers, I just want you to fuck me.” She drew on the cigarette and started coughing. No wonder, she hadn’t smoked since she was sixteen. “You can do that, can’t you? It wasn’t just you being the big I am?”
“No, I can do it.” Taking the cigarette back, he drew heavily on it himself.
“I hope you’ve got condoms?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Well, come on, then” she urged. “I haven’t got all bloody day.” They walked to the ground floor apartment and he let her into the hall. “Where’s the bedroom?”
“Along there.” He pointed. “On the right.”
“Get the condoms, then.”
“Yeah.” He went, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite get his head around all this. “They’re in the bathroom, I won’t be a sec.”
She went straight to the bedroom and began to strip. It was a real bachelor pad with grey walls, a black wooden sculpture hanging on one wall, and shiny grey wardrobe and matching chest of drawers standing along another. The floor to ceiling curtains were black, faux grey and black silk covers were on the bed, and the carpet was grey, too. It must have cost a fortune but, God, it was grim. There wasn’t a feminine touch anywhere. When Jack came into the room, she was naked.
“I want to undress you,” she announced.
“Oh, okay…”
He stood meekly beside the bed with a packet of condoms in his ha
nd while she stripped him. He was a bit hairy – oh, yuck, he had a hairy back, too – and he didn’t have a bad body, but he was no Stephen. She managed to hide a grimace. Don’t think about Stephen, he has Barbara now. By the time Jack was naked he had an erection but it wasn’t as big as Stephen’s had been. She rolled her eyes. Enough with the comparisons, Becca, she ordered herself, nodding to the condoms.
“Go on, then, put one on.”
“Yeah.”
She sat on the bed watching him struggle a little with it. He clearly hadn’t done this in quite some time. “Now kiss me. I don’t care where.”
“You like being in charge, don’t you?” he asked, climbing onto the bed. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
“I do.” She lay down, opening her legs. “So get on with it.”
He climbed over her, taking a nipple between his lips, sucking then pulling at it. “These tits are real, aren’t they?”
“Of course they’re bloody real,” she retorted, feeling her nipple tingling as it hardened.
Jack massaged one breast while he kissed and sucked on the other. "Mmm," he murmured as he played with them. "Mmm, they're beautiful."
He thrust into her and began pumping far too fast with no rhythm whatsoever. Her breasts were flopping up and down uncomfortably and while the sex wasn’t meant to be romantic in any way, it wasn’t supposed to be laughable either. She sighed, closing her eyes, and concentrated hard on shutting everything out except the man on top of her.
“Hey?” he gasped suddenly, rolling off her. “Who the fuck is Stephen?”
Her heart lurched. “Stephen?”
“Yeah, Stephen. My fucking name is Jack.”
“Stephen is no one.”
“Yeah, right,” he gave her a humourless laugh. “You screamed his name when you came.”
“Well, I won’t the next time. Okay?” He didn’t reply. “You don’t want a next time, then?”
“Of course I do,” he snapped. “Let me bloody recover will you?”
“I have to go soon so make it quick.”
“Well, look at me this time and try to remember my name, yeah?”
“Jack or John?” she enquired, watching as he got off the bed and walked out of the room.
“Jack,” he shouted, presumably from the bathroom. “Just Jack. ”
“Okay. Just hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”
“Neither have I.” He re-appeared a couple of minutes later at the bedroom door, complete with an erection.
“Impressive,” she lied. “Come over here and lie down.”
“I want to be on top.”
“No, you don’t. I want to be on top this time.”
“You mad bitch,” he grunted, as he did as he was told. “I’ll have you under me the next time.”
“Yeah.” Taking a condom, she ripped open the packaging and did the honours herself.
“And what’s my name?” he added.
“Just Jack?” she suggested.
“Excellent.”
Straddling him, she pushed her breasts into his face one at a time, making sure he spent time licking and sucking on each nipple. That felt good and she pushed down onto him. She leaned back and steadied herself with her hands on his thighs then began rocking back and forth over him while he watched. She rode him gently at first, but as her orgasm grew close, she picked up the pace. She was rising all the way up off him, then plunging down onto him, her behind slapping against his thighs and riding him as hard as she could. She ached for more, knew he couldn’t provide it, and pushed the other name who could, firmly to the back of her mind.
She felt herself coming as he bit a nipple hard enough to hurt. It was only a nip, and he only did it once, but it was enough to push her over the edge. She dug her nails into his shoulders and pressed down on him hard. She collapsed on top of him, trying to catch her breath, as wave after wave washed over her.
He stayed perfectly still inside her before sitting her up, licking her breasts, and reaching around her to grip her behind. He pulled her to him, slamming hard into her, both of them letting out grunts with each thrust. He held her so tight she couldn’t move. All she could do was hold onto his shoulders as he rammed her onto him. Feeling helpless, she felt herself coming again.
“Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack.” She repeated his name over and over again. It had to work. Thankfully, it worked for him and drove him on, but she had to consciously think of it each time otherwise she would have chanted that other name again. “Shit,” she finally screamed, just managing to slip from St… into Sh… in time.
“Shit?” he gasped, pushing her away from him. “Brilliant. Better than Stephen, I suppose. What time do you have to go?”
“What time is it now?” she gasped, and he reached onto the floor for an iPhone.
“Half past twelve,” he told her.
“In fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes, eh?”
“Yeah. Excuse me, I need the toilet.” Sliding off the bed, she went into the bathroom and leant heavily on the sink. “Fuck you, Stephen,” she whispered.
“You okay in there?” She heard Jack’s voice and him getting off the bed.
“Yeah, fine.”
She returned to the bedroom and found him throwing the packet of condoms onto the bed. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her mouth, the taste of cigarettes almost making her gag. Lifting her up and slamming her back against the wall, she instinctively wrapped her legs around him, as he slid into her in one quick thrust.
“I’ve always wanted to try this,” he informed her with a grunt. “Who’d have thought it would be today?”
She grabbed his shoulders for support as he thrust even harder this time and held her hips and her back against the wall in an iron grasp. She was trying to keep up with him, trying to hold on, but she knew she was painstakingly close to coming. She buried her face in his shoulder trying to silence her cries as her orgasm ripped through her and he came with a violent shudder against her.
“Jack. Jack. Jack,” she panted. “Oh, God, Stephen.”
“Stephen?” Jack repeated. “Are you married to him or what?”
“No, I’m not. Put me down now.”
“You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?” He adjusted his position and her back slid uncomfortably down the wall. She gasped, thinking he was about to let her fall. He wasn’t going to hurt her, was he? Get out of there now, Becca, she told herself. Keep calm and just get out of there. “Who is this Stephen?”
“Someone I used to know.”
“Someone you still want to know, more like,” he muttered.
“I have to go now,” she insisted. “Please put me down.”
“Go where?”
“None of your business. Now put me down.”
“Fine.” He put his hands around her waist and let her drop into a standing position. “I want to see you again. You’re quite a fuck.” He grinned as she retrieved her clothes from the floor and quickly began to dress. “Even if you do have a bit of a problem with names.”
“You were starting to hurt me.”
“And so were you,” he replied. “Jack is one of the easiest bloody names to remember. I do want to see you again. The more we see each other, the more chance there is that you might actually remember what it is.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. I’ve always wanted to try out ribbed condoms,” he added conversationally. “We could give them a go. What do you think?”
“Ribbed condoms are naff.” She did up her coat. “Ordinary does me just fine.”
A grin began spreading across his face, making her stomach constrict with disgust. “So you will see me again?”
“I might,” she lied, just wanting to get out of there.
“Ring me.”
“No.” She put the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and head, hoping he couldn’t see her hands shaking. “If I do decide to see you again, I’d prefer to meet you at the sandwich bar.”
; “Oh, yes, your new job.”
“Yes, my new job.” She walked along the hall to the front door, fighting the urge to run. “I’ll see how things go.”
“I’ll see you, then.”
“Yeah.” Opening the front door, she went outside and pulled it closed.
Out on the street, she clapped a hand to her mouth before running into an alleyway on wobbly legs and throwing up. Shaking and shivering, she was forced to sit down on the ground. Wiping her mouth, she exhaled an uneven breath.
Look at you, she told herself. You’re disgusting, dishevelled and sitting on the street beside a pool of vomit. People will think you’re a wino and it bloody-well serves you right. What the hell have you just done? No. Ask yourself that later, just get away from here. Using the wall, she climbed to her feet, ignoring a curious stare from a passer-by and quickly walked away.
To her surprise, Stephen was watching television when she arrived home with Tommy. What was he doing here when he should be at work? Ignoring him, she went to the kitchen and made Tommy a ham sandwich. Then, going straight to the bathroom, she peeled off her clothes and stood under a too-hot shower, scrubbing herself almost raw.
What the hell have you just done, she asked herself. Why did you let yourself be used like that? Were you so desperate for sex? She was a single mum and she hadn’t thought of herself as attractive anymore until meeting Stephen again and because there was no trust between them she had become angry, reckless and desperate.
The sex with Jack had been good. But sex. No. Not sex. Making love with Stephen had been…she couldn’t think of a suitable word to describe how infinitely better it had been. She let the hot water beat down on her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her family were right. She was a slag.
Returning to the kitchen twenty minutes later, feeling and hearing her empty stomach rumbling, she made a ham sandwich for herself. She went out onto the roof terrace, hearing Stephen follow her, and sat down at the table with her plate.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he began.
She laughed harshly, picking up her sandwich. “Yeah, right.”
“Well, I am.”
“What if I’d been coming home with Tommy?” she demanded. “How do I tell him that Daddy can’t explain why there’s a strange woman in the apartment?’”