by Kait Jagger
‘Oh my days, it’s like a bloody Paco Rabanne advert,’ Kayla exclaimed, elbowing Nancy in the ribs and nodding in his direction.
Jem, bless her, immediately jumped up and threw herself at Stefan as he approached, her tartan Vivienne Westwood minidress riding up until Nancy gave it a swift tug from behind.
‘Hello, Jem,’ Stefan said, putting his arm around her, to the apparent fury of Kayla, who struggled to her feet and extended her hand.
‘I’m Kayla, Luna’s very best friend.’
‘Ah yes,’ Stefan said, pulling her toward him and kissing her first on one cheek, ‘the budding star…’ then the other. Kayla threw Luna a quick oh my fucking God look as she sat back down. Nancy, meanwhile, stayed right where she was on the sofa, till Stefan held out his hand to her, saying, ‘You must be Nancy.’ She extended hers regally, and he bent to kiss it. ‘Luna tells me you’re the hot one in your group.’
‘You what?!’ Kayla shouted, giving Luna a little shove as Nancy smiled sweetly and replied, ‘My reputation precedes me.’ Then Stefan clapped his hands together and said, ‘Ladies, what can I get you to drink?’
‘Okay,’ Nancy laughed to Luna. ‘You can keep this one.’
The girls gave Stefan their orders, pointing him in the direction of their waiter, who was standing near the bar. Luna, meanwhile, who’d stood up as soon as Jem pounced on Stefan, was starting to feel a little awkward. She was on the verge of sitting back down in her armchair when Stefan put his arm around her and enquired, ‘And you, Luna?’
‘I’ll have the same as them,’ she replied, and was then taken completely unaware when he swiftly pulled her toward him and planted a kiss on her mouth, giving her a quick private swipe of his tongue for good measure. He smiled down at her, his very best honeyed smile, and strolled off towards the bar.
Luna sat down. There was a three-second silence at the table, followed by an eruption of screeches. She sunk in her chair and covered her face.
‘Seriously, you’re going to have to stop,’ she moaned. ‘You’ll scare him off—’
‘—and he’ll never shag me again,’ Kayla continued, mimicking Luna’s voice so mercilessly that even Luna laughed until tears started to form in the corners of her eyes.
An hour later, Stefan was sat on the sofa between Nancy and Kayla, having answered every last one of their questions about The Triad with what struck Luna as extraordinarily good grace, knowing as she did how he felt about his television past. He’d asked Nancy about her agency and exchanged notes with her regarding the perils of starting a business. He’d quizzed Kayla about Cats and her fellow cast members…in short, he’d been the perfect, um, boyfriend. Not that Luna was ready to think of him that way.
‘Lou, you’ve got to bring Stefan next Friday,’ Kayla shouted, turning to him. ‘You can come, right?’
‘I would love to come, but I think I may have another commitment in Stockholm next Friday night. I’ll check…’
‘Fuck me, you’re not going to let me down, are you?’ Kayla demanded. ‘You have to come. Tell him he has to come, Luna.’
Luna widened her eyes at Stefan in the silent universal my friend is drunk, ignore her code.
‘I will try very hard to come, Kayla,’ Stefan assured her.
At that point their waiter appeared with the glass of still water Luna had asked for, squatting next to her and Jem and smiling at Luna. ‘So, do you manage to get your bike off road very often?’
Then she and Jem, who was on the verge of complete drunkenness, started asking him questions about what a nice boy like him was doing in a place like this, and did he have any plans for the future. The sort of thing that had been their party trick for years now: asking silly, drunken questions of unsuspecting victims.
When Nancy imperiously demanded the bill, their waiter was just writing on the back of Luna’s hand the names of two villages at either end of a long stretch of straight, little-travelled B-road west of Reading.
‘You have got to try it,’ he said. ‘I promise you, you’ll get up to 120 and not even feel it.’
Luna nodded, and he stood up, clasping her shoulder briefly. And then he was off to get the bill.
She and Jem exchanged looks and Jem made a beatific face. ‘Aww, diddy,’ she observed, to which Luna immediately rejoined, ‘Wasn’t he just the diddiest little thing?’ They cracked up and hugged each other, Luna smiling over Jem’s shoulder at Stefan, who missed it, having turned away from her at the exact same second to say something to Nancy.
‘Come on, my wee tartan baby,’ Luna said. ‘Come sit on granny’s knee.’ Needing no further prompting, Jem hopped over and deposited herself on Luna’s lap, another old party turn of theirs. Stefan finally looked in Luna’s direction then and smiled at the two of them. And Luna smiled back.
He insisted on paying the bill, over the not-very-convincing protests of her friends. Feeling slightly guilty that he’d been landed with a multi-hundred-pound tab, Luna paid the tip, which she walked over to their waiter while Stefan went down to get his car from valet parking.
Somehow the four women managed to descend the staircase to the street without falling or disgracing themselves, stopping for a communal loo visit halfway down. They emerged onto the street to see the valet attendant handing Stefan the keys to the Lamborghini, which Kayla immediately went to covet while Nancy and a slightly swaying Jem discussed where they should go next. Luna, meanwhile, yawned into the back of her hand; suddenly it felt like it had been a long, long day.
Stefan, who had been watching her, walked over and put his mouth next to her ear. ‘Come home with me,’ he murmured. ‘We don’t have to go back to the Dower House. My apartment is ten minutes away.’
‘Okay,’ Luna acquiesced immediately. She leaned into him and rested the flat of her hand on his firm stomach. ‘Thank you for coming tonight, and for being so nice to my friends.’ He kissed her forehead and took her jacket and helmet from her hands, then announced, ‘I am sorry to say, ladies, that I am taking Luna with me.’
There followed some good-natured protests, along with a few nudge-nudge wink-winks to Luna from Kayla. And then a series of hugs and kisses, Luna kissing each and every one of her friends full on the lips.
‘Ah, it’s that time of the night,’ Nancy observed warmly. ‘I’ve missed this.’
‘You’re a lucky, lucky man,’ Kayla said, slinging her arm around Luna’s neck and pointing at Stefan. ‘Best kisser I know, this girl.’
‘Happy, happy memories,’ Jem concurred, before punching Luna hard in the shoulder.
Luna was still rubbing it a few minutes later as they drove through the City.
‘For such a sweet person, Jem really can be a violent drunk. This is going to give me a bruise.’ She leaned back in the leather upholstered seat, half-closing her eyes.
‘And you, Luna? What kind of drunk are you?’
‘Well,’ she said, placing her hand on his knee. ‘As you may have guessed back there, I have a reputation for being an affectionate drunk.’
‘So this is all good news for me,’ he said, briefly clasping her hand before shifting into second.
‘Very good news, provided I stay awake,’ she said.
They crossed over Tower Bridge and shortly thereafter pulled into a basement car park. Luna required some help getting out of the sports car’s passenger seat, but otherwise she managed the walk to the lift pretty well, only swaying into Stefan’s side once, and being rewarded with a clasp around the waist and a quick pat on her Gore-Tex-clad bum. There were eight floors on the elevator display, but Stefan inserted a key and pushed the P button at the very top.
‘You’re not in the penthouse, are you?’
‘It’s an investment property I bought with my father. We share it when he’s in town.’
The lift exited straight into a large living room fronted by floor to ceiling glass windows.
‘Good heavens!’ Luna exclaimed, taking in the view of St Paul’s Cathedral and the London skyline. She took
a step towards the windows, then looked down at the limewashed wooden floor and stopped. Lifting her knee up to her chest, she tried to pull off one of her boots, quickly losing her balance and hopping sideways into Stefan. He steadied her and she held up a hand. ‘No, I’m alright.’ Then plunked herself down on the floor to wrest her boots off. Standing again, she tugged at the waistband of her biker pants and asked, ‘Is it alright if I take these off?’ only to have Stefan laugh and reply, ‘Be my guest, Luna.’
Inserting her fingers under her braces, she pulled them over her shoulders, careful this time not to lose her balance as she lowered the trousers to the floor and kicked them off. She had a pair of black thermal leggings on underneath, a matching set with her shirt.
‘Very nice,’ Stefan observed, admiring the way the leggings sat on her backside.
‘I know,’ Luna agreed. ‘I was saying to Nancy earlier, these were actually damned expensive. Seamless, see?’ She pointed to the absent seam on the hip. ‘Do you think I could have a glass of water?’
‘You can,’ he said, walking towards the fridge in the immaculate open plan kitchen. Luna, meanwhile, tiptoed over to the window, looking down to see the Millennium Bridge and the Thames below. She turned around and surveyed the apartment. For some reason, she’d pictured it done out in various shades of charcoal, grey and graphite, but it was surprisingly colourful, with an expensive-looking cherry red Scandinavian sofa, two reclining armchairs with wooden arms and brightly patterned cushions, and a lovely sky blue, roughly knotted rug.
‘I have to say, I’m surprised by your taste in furniture,’ she said, hastening to add, ‘I like it.’
‘I can’t take any of the credit for it,’ Stefan said, handing her her water. ‘My father chose everything in here.’
‘I think Sören has the best taste of any man I’ve ever met,’ Luna said earnestly, taking the glass from him and draining half of it away.
‘A lot of women feel that way,’ Stefan said.
Luna pointed to her glass. ‘Is this more of that Swedish water?’ Stefan started to nod and she continued, ‘Because I like it. This is the still, right? Do you get it flown in specially?’ She took another sip. ‘I mean, you could say it was an extravagance, but this stuff really is good.’
Stefan laughed and said, ‘I think in addition to being an affectionate drunk you are also a talkative drunk. I like you like this.’
Luna finished her water and, loath to leave the glass on the spotless maple coffee table, walked to the kitchen. ‘Are you saying I don’t talk enough when I’m sober? Because I feel like I talk a lot.’ She opened the cupboard under the sink and extracted a sponge.
Stefan sat on the arm of the sofa and replied, ‘I like you when you’re sober too, of course. I like the way you consider your words, the way you can be…reserved.’
Luna squeezed a liberal amount of Fairy into her glass and ran the sponge briefly under the tap.
‘I see why your friends think you’re the quiet one,’ he added. ‘Of course, they’re so loud…’
Luna half turned her head to him, revealing a smile in profile. ‘I know. I’m sorry. My ears are still ringing.’ She plunged the sponge into the glass, swirling it around.
‘But I could see them tonight, trying to make you laugh, holding themselves out for your approval. I think it is your good opinion they value most of all.’
Luna looked down at the sink, surprised by his insight. She ran the sponge around the lip of the glass. ‘You’re nice to say that,’ she said, turning on the tap again. She thought she heard Stefan make a noise, a vexed little noise, but the water drowned it out.
She put the glass under the tap to rinse it and Stefan remarked somewhat archly, ‘I do have a dishwasher, you know.’ Luna placed the clean glass upside down on the draining board and turned around, leaning back against the sink. He was looking at her strangely, and suddenly the mood in the room seemed a shade cooler.
‘I know. I was just…’ Luna trailed off. ‘What?’ Really, his expression was odd, almost annoyed, though at what she wasn’t sure. She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
He opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly debating with himself. Then he looked at her left hand, where the waiter had scrawled the details of that B-road. He took the hand in both of his, holding it delicately, reading it. She was on the verge of explaining what the waiter had written when Stefan said quietly, ‘I am not used to the way things are between us.’
Luna frowned and shook her head. She didn’t take his meaning.
‘Last night, when Augusta phoned you. Of course, I didn’t know it was Augusta. And there was something, something about the inflection in your voice, a softness. “That sounds lovely,” you said.’ Stefan looked her straight in the eyes and she quelled slightly inside. ‘And then,’ he continued, ‘you and Jem were talking to that waiter tonight…’ Luna began to understand and shook her head, but he went on, ‘And I know, I know, Luna, that you were just being friendly. Even if you were flirting with him, why should it matter to me? It doesn’t matter.’
He dropped her hand and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I am not a jealous man. I’ve seen enough jealous men to know I never want to be one. Yet I find I am…possessive of you.’ He placed his hands on his knees, as if he was afraid to touch her.
Luna was at a loss. She didn’t like jealous men either, and she’d had absolutely no idea about Stefan’s feelings the previous night. But she knew what it was to hear tender words and to wish they were for her, and her alone. There were many things she could say to him, about how her own feelings for him also surprised her, and that the reason the waiter had been attracted to her that night – for he had been, she knew it – was, paradoxically, because of Stefan. Kayla had been right to say she was glowing. Stefan had made her so, and had thus rendered her more attractive to other men.
But, as Stefan had said, Luna was reserved. These things were hard for her to say. She pushed his knees apart with her hands and stood closer to him, pressing against the arm of the sofa. She reached for his cheek, careful to use her right hand.
‘But this,’ she paused, running her hand down his cheek, then moving it to her chest, then suspending it between them, her fingers wavering slightly. ‘This is for you. Only you.’ Her words sounded both overly revelatory and insufficient, to her ears. But they seemed to have the desired effect on Stefan, who visibly shook off his mood.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is serious talk to end a girls’ night out. What would Nancy say?’
‘She’d say you were killing my buzz.’ Luna screwed up her mouth, trying not to smile.
‘What can I do to make it up to you?’
‘You could make out with me on your father’s sofa,’ she suggested.
‘I could, absolute I could.’ He took her hand and laced her fingers with his, then stood and pulled her with him onto the sofa. She loved these moments, just before he kissed her, the anticipation building in her. Stefan put his arm around her and she put her hand to his collar, reaching her fingers inside and stretching them toward that lovely bit of nape where his hair was shortest. He brought his mouth to hers but didn’t kiss her, rubbing her nose with his instead, eyes half closed. Then he kissed her briefly, softly. And again. And again. No tongues, no teeth.
Warming to his task, he continued in this way, changing only the angle of his head against hers. She found herself enthralled by him, awaiting each kiss, receiving it, then waiting for the next. Her breathing adapted to accommodate it, her chest stilling each time his mouth pressed against hers, then rising anew when his lips withdrew. And it was the slowest, sweetest thing on earth, kissing Stefan Lundgren like this. Eventually she pulled her knees up on the sofa and curled herself into him, chest aching with some unspecific emotion.
He brought his free hand to her ribs, feeling them rise and fall, and she did the same to his. He reached up to the side of her breast and his lips stilled on hers, his hand
exploring, then pausing speculatively. Luna drew her lips away from his. ‘Conclusive proof,’ she murmured, ‘that I wasn’t on the pull tonight.’ Wriggling away from him, she lifted her thermal shirt to reveal a black sports bra underneath. ‘See?’ she said winsomely. ‘Knowing that I wasn’t going to be seeing you, I wore utilitarian underwear.’
‘I’m gratified, Luna. And very much looking forward to getting your underwear off.’
‘I need a wee,’ she announced. He grinned and pointed toward his bedroom down the hall.
His en suite bathroom was everything she could have hoped for: walk-in shower; massive steel bath; shiny, slightly iridescent tiles; and stainless steel taps that appeared to turn on at the slightest brush of her fingers. She heard him enter the bedroom while she was on the toilet and shouted, ‘Do you have a spare toothbrush?’
‘Use mine,’ he replied, so she did, retrieving the toothpaste and brush from his shaving kit. She picked up a bar of dark green soap and sniffed it – it smelled fantastic and she was sure it was another Swedish import. She washed her hands, scrubbing somewhat ineffectually at the writing on her left hand, then opened the bathroom door while she was brushing her teeth. Stefan came in and at first it felt…weird, him standing there weeing while she spat her toothpaste into the sink. But then she reminded herself that he was Scandinavian, after all, and besides, she liked the way the waistband of his briefs peeked out from his trousers, the way he flexed his buttocks while he weed. She reached out her hand to run it along one of them, and he said simply, ‘This is not something you should do when a man is taking a piss. All kinds of potential consequences.’
Laughing, she headed into his darkened bedroom and quickly stripped off her sports bra, leggings and boy shorts. Then she launched herself into his bed, which was massive, but thankfully close to the ground. By the time Stefan emerged from the bathroom, she was sitting chastely under the covers. He slid in next to her and again she marvelled at just how hard his thighs were. This was the first time they’d been in bed together like this, pressed together, just holding each other, and she marvelled, too, at the newness of it, her breasts against his chest, her knee between his legs.