by Dale, Lindy
Seemingly unperturbed by what I supposed was the disgusted look on my face, Johnny pulled a flat red box tied with shiny green ribbon from the small backpack at his feet. He held it out. “For you, my sweet.”
“What’s this?” I glanced down at the box. It was quite large, with a gaudy red bauble perched on top of the bow. I was almost too afraid to look inside.
“I thought you might like to join the rest of the world. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Christmas. You’re meant to be happy.”
It was a sweet gesture, and not one I’d expect from a man who spent his Saturdays pummelling other men into the mud and then drinking beer with them afterwards. But that was Johnny for you. One minute he was behaving like a five-year-old and the next he was being very sweet and genuinely charming, so much so that at times he could pass for a man who cared a damn.
“What have I done to deserve this?”
“Nothing. You never do anything. You’re just you. Bitch from hell—”
A small smile tugged at the edges of my mouth. That much was true. I had been a bit of a cow lately — okay, so I was a cow most of the time. But I was a woman in a man’s world. I’d been let down by the one man who meant more to me than anything. I had a lifetime mistrust of men that had hardened my heart to the point where it was easier to be brash and rude and keep people at arm’s length than it was to let them in.
“—Happy Christmas.”
I softened at the gentle smile on Johnny’s face. It was one I rarely saw and it made me realise I probably could be a little nicer to these people I called my friends; loosen up a little. Johnny was always there for us. As a friend he was the best — loyal, kind, funny. Maybe I should try to be more like him?
Eww. Had I just thought that?
“It’s kind of you. Sometimes you must even surprise yourself with such bursts of generosity. What’s inside?” I pulled the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid.
“It’s just a bit of a laugh.”
I held the gift — a t-shirt that matched Johnny’s — in front of me, my eyes taking in the words and image printed on the front.
Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is enough wine to get me through Christmas. Please.
It was like he’d read my mind and despite the fact that it was an utterly ridiculous gift, it seemed to have achieved the desired result of making me lighten up. I felt rather more buoyant than I had two minutes ago. To know that there was one person in the world who had gone out of his way to make me smile made me feel warm inside. And a bit gooey.
I never felt gooey.
I folded the t-shirt and put it back in the box. Then, leaning over, I kissed Johnny’s cheek and gave his knee an affectionate rub. “Thanks. You didn’t have to go to the trouble, but thanks.”
Johnny’s hand reached down and came to rest on top of my own. Suddenly, his eyes were gazing intensely into mine and I noticed flecks of grey within the vivid blue. I’d never paid that much attention to his eyes before. They were quite beautiful.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, his stare reaching a place inside me I hadn’t known I possessed. I wished he’d stop. It was unnerving.
“Why?”
“You’re off your game. Normally, you’d have called me a degenerate fuckwit by now and hit me with my own present.”
“Normally you’d be behaving like one.”
Johnny looked around the room and raised his glass to our boss. “I’m on my best behaviour. New job and all that. What’s your excuse?”
“I hate Christmas.”
“Whoa. Big call. T’is the season to be jolly.” He cocked an ear to the music and chuckled at his own joke. Then he stilled. “Look, I know how shitful this time of year is for you. That’s why I got you the present. I thought it might give you a laugh.”
That was one way of putting it.
“But if I’d known I was gonna get such a positive reaction — as in lip action — I’d have bought you the matching bra and knickers. I can see you in red fur.”
And there was the real Johnny Jones.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“So a shag’s out of the question, then?” His voice was no more than a deep and raspy whisper that sent tingles of desire through my body, unlocking a feeling I’d buried a long time back. His blue eyes began to twinkle with something rather dirty and lustful and for a minute — only a minute — I was almost tempted.
Then I remembered it was Johnny.
Lothario of the highest order. Man to never be trusted.
I straightened and removed my hand from his knee. “You never let it go, do you? Tell me again how you managed to weasel your way into my workplace? There’s at least twenty big name law firms in town, and you choose mine.”
“Maybe I couldn’t stay away from you any longer.”
“Or maybe no one else would have you.” I snorted.
Johnny shrugged. “Want another drink?”
I watched as Johnny handed a couple of notes to the barman who took the glasses away and replaced them with filled fresh ones. Johnny’s hands were smooth and large and for a fleeting second my mind began to drift, wondering how they would feel on my body.
Eww. Ugh. Stop! I was doing it again. I couldn’t be having lewd thoughts about Johnny’s hands. It was well, eww. Grabbing the t-shirt from the box, I jumped off my stool.
Then I saw that twinkle in his eye again. “You were perving on my hands.”
Now, he’d think I wanted him. Which I didn’t. Okay, I did but I wasn’t willing to own it just yet. It was Johnny, for God’s sake.
“Don’t be ridiculous… I’m, er, going to the toilet to change into this top.”
“Bet you were wondering what I could do with them,” I heard him call after me. “How about I come to the toilets and show you?”
“How about you don’t.”
Clearly, Johnny forgotten that Millie had ended up pregnant with twins after her and Sam’s little adventure in the toilet a few months back. I had no intention of becoming the second victim. Ignoring his guffaw, I raced for the safety of the toilets.
*****
A short while later and feeling more in the Christmas mood, I sat back down at Johnny’s side. He’d lined up two tequila shots for each of us and a red wine chaser.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“If it means you’ll stop acting like the bitch from hell.” He picked up his tequila. “Bottoms up.”
I followed suit, quickly sucking on the lime afterwards. Not that it stopped my throat from burning like hell. I think it may actually have lost all feeling.
Johnny picked up the second shot. “Slammer,” he noted. “Tequila with a touch of lemonade. Swirl, swirl, slam and skull.” He demonstrated, following the act with the smile he reserved for unsuspecting girls on a Saturday night. Luckily, I was not unsuspecting. I copied, feeling the warm sting of the tequila in my throat and the buzz moving to my brain. If we kept it up at this pace I’d be on my ear in ten minutes. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Two bite sized squares of Christmas chocolate and a few hors d’oeuvres didn’t constitute a meal that would soak up alcohol.
“Better now?” Johnny asked.
“Much. I had a bit of a sore throat until I drank that. I think you’ve cured it.”
“Anything for a damsel in distress.”
I gave Johnny a look, picked up my fresh glass of wine and took a sip. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he meant that, that he was being nice to me. I decided not to comment.
“What do you think?” I indicated the shirt, which I’d attempted to nullify the silliness of by tucking it into the waistband of my black pencil skirt.
Johnny nodded in approval. “Looks hot.”
“It’s a little tight.”
“I ordered it that way on purpose—”
Of course he had.
“— It’s a shame for the world not to see your tits. They’re gorgeous.”
Just when you thought he was bloody no
rmal.
I punched him in the arm and he winced as if it hurt.
“Hey, did you get your email from Kirby about the Secret Santa?” Johnny asked, giving his arm a rub.
I had. Kirby had been right onto it after we’d parted ways earlier in the afternoon. She’d sent out emails to all the gang, complete with photos showing her pulling names from a hat to prove she hadn’t rigged the draw for gifts. A bulleted list of acceptable and non-acceptable items including ‘like, no rugby merchandise for girls’ and ‘no gift vouchers because they’re like, totally, a cop-out’, had accompanied the message.
“I did.” Funnily enough, I’d drawn Johnny as my Secret Santa, though I had no clue what I was going to buy a man who had everything except a woman. A blow up doll, maybe?
“Who’d you get?” he asked.
“It’s meant to be a fucking surprise, you fool. How did you ever get a degree?”
“Now, that’s the Mel I know and love.” Johnny took a glug of wine. He swivelled on his stool to face me. “I adore dirty talk in a woman. Swear at me a bit more. But say it like you mean it this time.”
“Idiot.”
“More.”
“Fuckwit.”
He leant close. “Jesus, you’re good. I’m getting hard.”
I glanced briefly at his crotch, then rolled my eyes realising that was exactly what he’d wanted me to do.
“Ha, got you.”
“You’re insane, you know that?”
He stopped acting the fool. His hands rested on my knees again. “Only for you, Mel. I’ve always been a fool for you. For some reason your stubborn little head can’t seem to process the fact.”
I let it slide, concentrating instead on our boss on the other side of the room, who appeared to be wearing someone’s boxer shorts on his head while dancing to some Christmas tune I’d never heard. It was a timely reminder. Johnny didn’t mean it. Like everyone else, he was caught up in the spirit of the season. Wasn’t he?
“So what, exactly, is it you hate so much about Christmas?” Johnny asked. “I know I’m probably opening up some deep dark can of worms no bloke wants to know about, but every year it’s the same. You’re worse than a kid without presents.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Well, I know it can’t be family, seeing as how you were spawned from the devil. Come sit here on Uncle Johnny’s knee and I’ll see what I can do to cheer you up.” He patted his knee and gave me a wink.
Draining my glass, I placed it on the bar. What the hell. It wasn’t like Johnny hadn’t felt me up a thousand times already without being asked, was it? What harm was a grope with permission. A cuddle would be nice. And Johnny was a great cuddler, if nothing else. He made you feel as if you were wrapped in a cocoon of safety when you got in his arms, like he was going to protect you and never let you go. I lessened the space between us and perched-leant myself against him. His big strong body moulded against mine. His hardness seemed to fit perfectly against the parts of me that were soft. It felt warm and nice and I relaxed, letting myself enjoy the physical contact. God, he felt good. A little too good, in fact.
“This is the best you get,” I joked.
He didn’t reply but I could feel his heart thudding against my chest. He gazed into my eyes as his arms wound round my waist. His hands splayed over my back and became still, like he had no clue what it was he was meant to do now I was actually in his arms. He blinked twice, very slowly and swallowed. Seemingly, the small gesture had rendered him dumbstruck.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
He swallowed again. What the hell was wrong with him?
Then, before I could say ‘mistletoe’ he pulled me closer and put his lips to mine.
At first, I was taken aback. The shock of his movement made my reflexes jump but then, as his lips moved on mine, I began to enjoy it. I wriggled against him and he held me tighter. His tongue slid into my mouth.
Shit. I was doing exactly what I’d sworn to myself I would never do again. I was kissing Johnny and I was bloody well enjoying it. In fact, I wanted more. A lot more.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“STOP!” I pushed him away, gasping for breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“You have to stop.”
“Why?” His face seemed upset, like the world had suddenly come crashing down at his feet, like the bloody Western Force had lost the grand final of the Super 15, after the siren and by a point. Not that that would ever happen. The Western Force would never make it to a final.
“I… I…” I didn’t know what to say.
Johnny leant into my ear. “Didn’t you like it? Personally, I thought we were doing pretty damn good.”
Oh God. How did I tell him that it wasn’t what he was doing that was the problem? It was who he was. How could I tell him that?
“You know I did,” I whispered back, afraid to admit it because I knew it would go to his head and he’d never let me forget it.
“Then what’s the problem?”
And that was exactly what I kept asking myself. The problem was, I just didn’t like the answer.
3
“You’ve got to help me,” I hissed into the phone.
“What’s up?”
I had Millie on the other end but she sounded distracted. I didn’t know that she’d be that much help.
“I just kissed Johnny. Again. What am I going to do?”
Millie sighed. I could hear noises in the background. Sam muttering something. Then there was a giggle. Oh my God, were they having sex? I was in the middle of a crisis and all they could think about was shagging. The girl was already extremely pregnant. And they were married. Married people didn’t have sex.
“Are you bonking?” I asked, cringing inwardly that she might answer truthfully.
There was silence on the other end of the phone and then a stifled titter. “No! Don’t be… be silly. Ouch Sam! Stop it! Tell me what’s wrong?”
I could feel my eyeballs reaching the ceiling. “I. Kissed. Johnny. We pashed like there was no tomorrow. At one point, I even considered inviting him back to my place. And I never do that. My house is my refuge. Nobody’s allowed there.”
“And the…. And the problem is?” Millie spluttered.
I was totally convinced she hadn’t heard a word I said.
“The man shoved his tongue down my throat, Millie. And I liked it. I bloody liked it. In fact, I liked it so much I thought I was going to have an orgasm right there in the middle of the bloody bar.”
More silence, then, “Hmm. Totally understandable. Johnny is a very good kisser.”
That wasn’t the response I’d expected.
“Pardon me?” I was starting to get a little bit short with her but it was her own fault. I mean, how could one multi-task sex and a deep and meaningful conversation? Something was bound to suffer and that something appeared to be the answer to my predicament.
“You heard me,” Millie replied. “Johnny and I kissed way back when. And he was good. Veeeeery good — no, babe, nowhere near as good as you— but still good. I absolutely get where you’re coming from, Mel.”
I hoped that was Sam she’d tossed that little aside to because I had no recollection of ever making out with Millie. We were rugby women, yes, but we didn’t go around performing homosexual acts for entertainment. Not even after three bottles of champers each. We did have some standards.
“But he’s Johnny. As Kirby would say, ‘he’s, like, a total sleaze’.”
Millie groaned. “Then why did you kiss him?”
“He bought me tequila. You know it makes me flirty.”
“And?”
“I was depressed about Christmas.”
“And?”
God, she was good. I’d never need to go to a therapist with Millie as a friend. She could draw the most minor things out of me without me even knowing. “Alright. He’s hot. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Thank you. Now, the question is, what
are you planning to do about it?”
Well, I certainly wasn’t going to go back out there and kiss him again. I couldn’t give in to these feelings. Not with Johnny. It’d be like a red rag to a bull, an invitation to a stalker. I’d never get him off my back. And anyway, if I did do it and — God forbid — we began some type of ‘relationship’; I’d never be able to trust him. As soon as my back was turned he’d have his tongue down some other poor girl’s throat. It was the way he rolled. Use ‘em and lose ‘em had always been Johnny’s motto. Not that I’d ever seen him actually use or lose anyone but, well, you know what I mean. Johnny chased anything in a skirt. He simply wasn’t that good at catching them.
“Nothing,” I replied at last. I sat up straight on the lid of the toilet, satisfied that I had made my decision. “That’s what I’m going to do. Nothing. I’m going to go back out there, get in a taxi and go home to my bed. Alone.”
“But he likes you, Mel. He does. He’s not good at showing it, that’s all. Underneath all of that crap that comes out of Johnny’s mouth, he’s the sweetest guy. He has a heart of gold.”
Wow, I knew Millie and Johnny had always been good friends but since when had she been blowing the trumpet in the I Heart Johnny parade?
“In fact, he’s a big bear,” she continued. “All loud and rumbly on the outside but once you let him in, he’s more the playful teddy. A big marshmallow really. Mind you, he’s going to need an awful lot of re-training. I think he’s worse than Sam used to be.”
“Yeah well, I won’t be re-training him. I had a teddy when I was a kid. I’m too old for toys.”
“We’ll see.”
I could almost hear Millie smirking into the phone. Either that or Sam was sucking on her big toe.
*****
By the time I got back to the bar, I think Johnny had gotten the hint that we were never going to take this beyond the occasional kiss. And I don’t know why, but I felt a little let down by his reaction. Okay, a lot let down. He couldn’t even wait five minutes before he’d flown off like a Bower Bird to his next new and shiny thing, completely forgetting he’d been trying to pash me into next week only minutes before.