by Jaid Black
“Thank-you for a memorable weekend, Tina.” He cleared his throat. “I shall always look back upon it fondly.”
Valentina’s light green eyes clashed with his. He thought for a stunned moment that she looked a bit sad, but then a moment later a beautiful smile was fixed on her face and he decided he’d been imagining things. “So will I,” she said softly.
Unable to resist, Neil reached across the space that separated them and kissed her gently on the lips. She kissed him back, sweeping her tongue inside of his mouth, brushing against his own. And then, almost as if by magic, she had retreated from the Lexus and was gone.
Neil watched Valentina walk into the hotel feeling more lonely and miserable than he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Chapter 7
“You look as though somebody just killed your best friend.”
Neil’s head shot up at the sound of his friend and colleague’s voice. Seated behind his desk inside of his office at the university, he waved a hand at the empty seat across from him, indicating he could sit there. “Good morning, John. I haven’t seen you since you left on holiday to Rome. How was the trip?”
“Brilliant.” John Hastings, outfitted in the same sensible lecturer’s attire of tweed trousers, formal shirt, and suit jacket that Neil was wearing, nodded toward his friend as he shrugged his trousers up at the knee and took a seat. “I’m teaching a class on Roman law this term so the trip will come in handy. I spent a few days touring the legal libraries there, seeing the antiquities firsthand. It was excellent.”
Neil thought it sounded vastly boring in comparison to the three days in Eden he’d spent, but declined to say as much. No use in detracting from John’s fine mood just because his own had been in the sewers for the past three Tina-less days. “I’m glad you had a terrific time then.”
“As am I.” John studied his face for a moment or two before saying anything else. He threw a hand toward him as he nestled further into the seat. “Ok. What gives?”
Neil looked up. It occurred to him that he probably appeared to be somewhat distracted. Not that he wasn’t. “What do you mean?”
John sighed. “Come on, man. I’ve known you since we went to university together. What’s going on? Why do you look so depressed?”
“I look depressed?” he asked, hoping he seemed surprised.
In reaction, John merely sighed again.
“Alright, alright,” Neil said, doing a little sighing of his own. He pushed the gold-wire spectacles up the bridge of his nose and regarded his oldest friend. He shook his head, trying to downplay the situation a bit. “It’s a woman.”
“A woman?” John studied his features curiously. “Margaret hardly seems the sort to bring a man low. No offense to the mouse, but I—”
“I’m not speaking of Margaret. She dumped me a week ago as a matter of fact.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned in closer to Neil’s desk and grinned. “The mouse worked up the nerve to dump you, eh? Do tell. And whilst you’re at it make certain you tell me of this other woman.” His grin was infectious. “I want details.”
Neil shook his head at his friend’s curiosity, but gave him the detail he sought. He told him about meeting Valentina in Jenners department store, about Margaret calling an end to their relationship that very afternoon, and about having worked up the nerve to follow Valentina Jason-Elliot up to Strathy Point.
Twenty minutes later, the story having been brought to a conclusion in front of the Balmoral, John steepled his fingertips together and regarded him. “I’m amazed,” he confessed.
Neil snorted his agreement. “As am I.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I had the nerve to follow her in the first place let alone—”
“That’s not what amazes me.” John grinned. “Though it does set one back a bit.”
Neil looked at him quizzically. “Then what precisely is it that you find so amazing?”
The expression on his colleague’s face indicated that he should already have known the answer. “That you let her walk out of your life so easily, of course. You didn’t even attempt to see if things could have gone further.”
“For what reason, John?” He chuckled self-depreciatingly. “I’m hardly a man that leads an exciting lifestyle. Can you imagine someone like Valentina Jason-Elliot, given all I’ve told you about her and her life, being happy in the long run with a lecturer of mathematics?”
“And why the bloody hell not,” John answered incredulously. “Not a damn thing wrong with that.”
“It is boring,” Neil said distinctly, over-enunciating each word. “I am boring.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Let us discuss this no more. I’m trying to simply push last weekend’s events from my mind and continue on as before.”
John sighed, shaking his head slightly. “If that’s truly your wish...” His voice had been inflected as he’d spoke, indicating he didn’t really believe Neil wanted it that way.
“Of course I don’t wish for it,” he bit out, “but neither am I prone to indulging in an overactive fantasy life.”
“It sounds to me like you’re scared.”
“I resent that! I am not scared!”
“No?” John’s brow drew together disbelievingly. “Then pick up the phone and give her a call.”
Neil didn’t know what to say to that. He glanced toward his desktop and began absently toying with two paperclips laying atop it. “I’m certain she’s busy,” he mumbled.
“Uh huh.”
His nostrils flared. “I am not scared,” Neil gritted out. “I am merely...realistic.”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh bloody hell but I wish you’d quit saying that!”
John scooted closer to the desk. “You know what I think?”
“No. But I’m certain I’m about to be made privy.”
“Don’t be so sarcastic, Dr. Ross.” John inclined his head succinctly. “I think you’re letting the fear that a larger than life writer couldn’t possibly entertain the notion of falling for an ordinary lecturer of mathematics rot your brain. What you’re forgetting, however, is that she’s just a person like anybody else.”
“Thank-you for that riveting commentary on my sordid mental state. I shall cherish it always.”
John sighed, standing up. “Hey I tried.”
Neil watched him walk away feeling decidedly wretched. It hadn’t been necessary to snap at his oldest friend simply because they weren’t on agreement in the matter of Valentina Jason-Elliot. “John?”
“Yes?” He turned around and regarded him.
“Thank-you.” He smiled. “I shall think on your words.”
“You’re welcome.” John grinned as he opened the office door. “Let’s just hope you take my advice and give her a call.”
* * * * *
Later that evening inside of his flat Neil stared at the phone broodingly, sensing it was his fate to pick up the damn thing, also sensing he’d hate the outcome of having done so. “Shite,” he muttered as he reached for the receiver and pounded out the number to the Balmoral on the keypad.
“Balmoral. How may I direct your call?”
He cleared his throat, already feeling nervous even though he was currently only speaking to one of the hotel’s staff. “Valentina Jason-Elliot’s room please.”
“I’m sorry but that’s a blocked line. I can only put the call through if your name is on her list of approved callers. What’s your name, sir?”
Neil sighed, his heart plummeting. “Neil Ross, but I’m certain I’m not—”
“I see your name. One moment and I’ll put the call through.”
Neil was too stunned to react. He wasn’t given any time to adjust to that potentially telling piece of information either for a moment later a certain Georgia peach was drawling over the connection, her smoky voice giving him an instant erection. “Hello?”
Neil opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out
.
“Hello?” she asked again.
Neil’s mind flew in a thousand different directions as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse for having called, and hopefully one that didn’t sound overly pathetic. He cleared his throat. “Tina? This is Neil.”
“Hi Neil!”
Was that excitement he heard in her voice? He shifted in the chair restlessly, his erection broaching painful. “Something occurred to me after I dropped you off at the hotel a few days ago and I was hoping we could discuss it.”
“Oh? And what was that?”
Yes—what was that? he asked himself grimly. He’d never been very good at winging it, so to speak, but at the moment he supposed he was performing even less stellar than usual. “We uh...we...”
“Yes?”
“We didn’t use any manner of protection.” Hey, come to think of it they really hadn’t. He warmed to his topic, deciding it was the perfect, plausible excuse to call. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to assure you that I am in sound health with no manner of disease at all.”
Valentina gasped. “My god I can’t believe it slipped my mind! I’ve never behaved so recklessly in my entire life,” she said as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “Thank-you for letting me know. I’m sure that eventually I would have realized it too and worried. Oh and by the way, it’s the same with me. I have a clean bill of health too.”
Well, Neil thought gloomily, there was the end of that conversation. “I never doubted it.”
“I guess I should also have mentioned that I’m on the pill, so there’s no worry that I’ll become pregnant either.”
Neil wished that news cheered him up, but he found that it only served to make him feel that much worse. “Excellent.” He sighed, unable to think of a damned thing else to say. He decided that if he could work up the nerve to call her again he’d come prepared with crib notes the next time. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I should go then.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Thank-you for calling.”
“Certainly.” He fidgeted with the phone cord. “Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.”
Neil hung up the phone feeling a curious mix of excitement and depression. Excitement because he’d spoken with her again, depression because he now knew with all certainty that she wouldn’t be pounding on his door pregnant and demanding he do the honorable thing and marry her any time soon.
Goddamned, bloody, fucking birth control pills.
Chapter 8
Valentina sat inside the Ballast tent that had been erected within the boundaries of the Edinburgh Festival with the other Ballast authors, signing autographs and doing her best to sell copies of The Scream. Her head shot up when her peripheral vision snagged a pair of camel tweed trousers, but was disappointed when she found them attached to a blonde-haired man instead of one certain dark-haired man she couldn’t seem to let go of. The stranger was handsome, but he wasn’t Neil.
It had been four days since he’d called, a week since she’d last seen him. Unfortunately, time wasn’t helping to ease her sense of loss at all.
“I was hoping I might get an autograph.” The blonde man smiled down to her. “I’ve already got this book, but what the hell, another copy won’t put me in the poor house.”
Valentina grinned. “Glad to hear it. Who do I make it out to?”
“John Hastings.” He smiled, watching her eyes for a reaction. “I’m a friend and colleague of Neil Ross’s.”
He wasn’t disappointed. Her light green eyes widened fractionally, tellingly he thought, before she returned her gaze to the book. “And how is he doing?” she asked a tad too nonchalantly as she scribbled onto the book.
“Like shite,” he said bluntly.
Valentina’s head popped up and John grinned at her. “So if there’s even a miniscule chance that you’re feeling the same, perhaps you should give him a call.”
She searched his eyes hopefully. “Did Neil send you here today?”
“No.” Her heart fell with John’s admission. “Truth be told I live just around the corner and decided to come out for a wee stroll. When I saw the Ballast tent I figured I’d pop in and say hello.”
She sighed, handing him the autographed book. “What makes you think Neil wants me to call him?”
“As I said, he feels like shite. Has ever since the day your little—”he cleared his throat—“rendezvous came to an end.”
“Really?” She nibbled at her lower lip as she regarded him.
John chuckled. “Yeah really.” He looked at his watch then glanced back to her. “If you can take a few minutes break, I’d be happy to buy you a drink and tell you all about it.”
Valentina grinned, rising to her feet. “You’ve got it.”
* * * * *
“I’m stunned.” Absently swirling her White Russian around in the glass, Valentina met John’s gaze. “I’ve been walking around depressed for an entire week thinking he didn’t want heads or tails to do with me. And now you show up and tell me it’s because he thinks he’s boring?” She shook her head, mystified. “If there is one thing Neil is definitely not it’s boring. Where did he get an idea like that?”
John chuckled as he set his glass of wine down on the pub’s tabletop. “Men are notoriously odd creatures. We can’t seem to help it.”
She grinned at that, feeling more lighthearted than she had in days. “I owe you big time. If it wasn’t for you I never would have known any of this. Neil didn’t seem at all inclined toward wanting to see me again which is why I didn’t push the issue.”
“And now?”
Her smile was slow and full of mischief. “And now I’m going to prove to Dr. Ross that he’s anything but dull and sensible.”
John raised his glass of wine in salute. He grinned. “I’m afraid when all is said and done I’m going to have to press Neil for details.”
She toasted him with the White Russian. “They should be good ones. I have a flair for the dramatic. Can’t seem to help it.” She chuckled. “It runs in the family.”
Chapter 9
Neil pushed his gold-wire spectacles up the bridge of his nose as he took to the lecture hall. His eyes swept dispassionately over the bevy of students, noting at once that he had a full house of thirty of more. He opened his briefcase as he arrived at the podium and retrieved the class roster from it. “James O’Donnell.”
“Present.”
“Marion McKenna.”
“Present.”
And on he went for another thirty or so names until he reached the end of the list. “Have I missed anyone’s name?” he asked as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose again.
A hand went up in his peripheral vision. “Mine.”
“And your name?” he asked as he looked up. “What is your—” His breath caught in the back of his throat when he realized who his visitor was. But she wasn’t behaving as though anything out of the ordinary was happening. Hell she wasn’t even acting as though she recognized him, a fact he didn’t care for at all.
Valentina was dressed in a wantonly tight shirt that showcased her impressive bosom and the outline of her nipples, as well as a tight little skirt that came up to the tops of her thighs. The completely white ensemble was finished off with a pair of high heeled shoes, shoes that would put her close to his six foot frame in height while standing. “What is your name?” he asked as calmly as possible.
“Valentina Jason-Elliot.”
“Fine.” Why was she here? he asked himself. What was she doing? He pretended to record her name. “I’ve added you to the roster.”
It took supreme effort, but somehow or another Neil managed to commence his lecture. Turning to the blackboard he began scribbling out names and dates, giving the students a brief history of mathematics. Well, he thought grimly as he continued to scribble, if she hadn’t thought him a complete and utter bore before this moment, she no doubt would after hearing him pontificate on the usefulness of calculus to the sciences.
&nb
sp; “And so,” he droned on as he returned to the podium and continued his lecture, “the way for differential and inferential calculus was paved by Sir Isaac Newton...” His lips kept working, spewing out dates and facts, but his mind was in turmoil and because of that fact his eyes flicked toward the one causing it.
Neil watched in fascination and shock—unable to do anything to stop her, unable to call attention away from himself—as Valentina slowly parted her thighs, revealing the fact that she was wearing no panties. Wet, bald flesh glistened from the first row of desks and he had to look away to keep from making a fool of himself. His penis was so stiff he feared it might explode.
He continued his lecture, not moving away from the podium this time for fear a student might see his erection. “Following Sir Isaac Newton’s thesis on...” He deserved a medal for his fortitude, for being able to resist looking at her, he thought to himself.
But, of course, Neil could only take the suspense so long. He had to know what she was up to, had to see for himself what she was now doing. Against his will, his eyes strayed once more to Valentina’s desk, widening upon their discovery.
She was playing with herself. Right there at the desk. Right across from him as he lectured. It occurred to him that she had planned her seating well, off to the right as she was, for she was able to reach down and masturbate her glorious cunt without making any but him the wiser.
Blood-red fingernails slithered around her labial folds, opening them wide for his inspection. She drew her swollen clit between her index and middle fingers, poking it out for him to see, as she began to work it around in a circular motion. Her light green eyes were glazed over as she looked up at him, boldly meeting his gaze as she sat there in the lecture hall and masturbated.