Moved

by K. M. Liss

  The only way we can avoid this moving on, is if one of us leaves the bar, and pretty soon.

  And that ain't happening.

  Up till now, we've never had much of a chance to pursue things. Just snatched minutes to chat when the bodyguard was otherwise occupied, and a quick hug hello and goodbye, here and there.

  There's one thing I know for certain. He's way more than just interested in me.

  He's no angel, I know that. He's had more than a few one night stands and short term flings since I've known him. But unlike Mason, he has normal relationships, with normal looking women. He was with Rea for two months, although that ended a month ago.

  “We're gonna pay for this,” he says with a rueful smile.

  “For what?” I reply innocently.

  “For standing next to each other, flirting like this, and stopping on the double yellow lines. It's not allowed, is it?”

  His eyes have taken on a deeper serious look, and the smile's gone.

  I'm staring and breathing hard, my eyes locked onto his.

  “I don't care,” I whisper.

  And suddenly, we both know we've crossed over that line.

  He picks up my hand and rubs it softly, all over, like he's examining and committing it to memory. As if it's something precious. My brain goes into visual and stroked meltdown.

  “Kaydee... come with me.”

  I don't have a clue what he just said. My mind isn't working after the hand orgasm.

  My hand is still in his as he walks out of the bar and around the side alleyway. My heart is pounding like mad as he stops and pulls me to him, around the waist.

  “I've put this off for far too long. It's decision time. You or Mason,” he says as his mouth touches mine. His serious words make their way through to my fogged brain and they swirl in the hazy mist of lust.

  Like everything else about him, his kissing is off the scale. My stomach flutters wildly and my feet leave the ground.

  He groans against my mouth, which sends me somewhere so hot and fuzzy, I almost lose consciousness. He pushes me back against the wall.

  His tongue sweeps across mine, back and forth in a smooth gliding action, and I can hear myself moaning, and making strange gasping noises, that I just can't control.

  My hands slip up and around his neck and then across his head. He pulls me closer and takes a handful of my side swept hair, wrapping it around his wrist. He pulls at it and moves my head to the side.

  His mouth trails down my neck, and after that, time and the world cease to exist.

  I don't know how long we were there, or exactly what happened, but it was magical, and beyond that.

  We're brought back to reality by a tall red bus swooshing noisily past the bar, stopping a little way ahead at the bus stop. We both come up for air and gaze at each other in shock.

  “My God Kaydee... I've chosen you,” he says softly, tipping my chin up with his finger and kissing my nose.

  “I'll go along with that,” I reply, my chest heaving madly in reaction.

  “Let's keep it quiet. For a few days, hmm?”

  “It's probably best,” I agree.

  A few weeks may be even better. I need to build up a lot of courage before we come out.

  He puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me inside. My eyes sweep around the bar. I'm grateful Sandy isn't here yet. It saves having to explain our entrance together.

  Nat turns his head sideways as we walk up to the bar.

  “While the cat's away, eh?” he jibes.

  “You've seen nothing and know nothing, understood?” Jackson says pointedly.

  “Sure, you know me. Discretion's my second name,” Nat replies with a snigger, returning his attention to Chloe, the mini-skirted barmaid, whilst taking a long swig from his beer bottle.

  I'm not keen on Nat. He has unkind eyes and a mean looking mouth. I'm pretty sure discretion's not his number two quality or even in the top ten.

  Jackson hands me my drink and I sip fast, trying to warm the sudden chill that has descended inside me.

  I'm having negative feelings about this now. Like I'm cheating. Cheating on Mason. Of all the men I could choose to be with, I've chosen the one he clearly has problems with me dating.

  Jackson brings me out of my deeply reflective moment.

  He gives me a tight hug, sensing my concern.

  “It'll be okay. He'll get used to it in time.”

  He's obviously thinking ahead. Time means some kind of a future.

  My misery is instantly replaced with a smile to match his. A future is good. It's one of the must haves on my ‘seven essentials’ list. It seems we have passion as well. Two out of seven is a good start.

  I find it strange that Jackson doesn't seem at all upset, for a guy on the brink of losing his best pal. Perhaps he knows something I don't?

  “I've been wondering something, about Mason,” I begin. “Why d'you think he's the way he is. With women, I mean? Uncommitted and obsessed with the same types?”

  “I'm no shrink, but if you want my opinion, I'd put it all down to his teenage years. His mum up and leaving that day. And the way his dad was after that. I think that kinda kicked it all off.”

  “I didn't know about this. And what about his dad, how was he exactly?”

  “Uncontrolled. Bad tempered. Drinking heavily. Bringing lots of different women in the house all the time. I don't think Mase got a lot of guidance, love or attention from anyone. He used to come ‘round to ours a lot. We were a normal, boring family. I guess he needed that.”

  I smile inwardly at the thought of Jackson's family being anything but normal or boring.

  “You think he has a real fear of commitment because he was abandoned by his mum?”

  “Look, I really don't know. But maybe that, and witnessing the flow of women in the front door and out the back. It became the norm I expect. Perhaps the blonde thing is safe to him. His mum was dark haired, quite a stunner, slim and tall, as I recall. But after her, his dad messed around with a lot of floozies from the local pubs. Mainly blondes. They weren't particularly nice women, just something to fill the gap in his life.”

  I'm beginning to see Mason as a completely different person. A victim, and broken in some way. It hurts my heart to learn about this bad time in his life. Having been through my parents' divorce, I understand only too well. My parents' divorce had been World War Three. They'd argued over everything, including me, non stop.

  If I hadn't felt such a mad ― never before experienced ― wild fever, in Jackson's arms... and didn't like him so much, I might stop this thing between us developing any further.

  Because, now I know more about him, I don't want to hurt Mason. He's my friend and my cherished dance partner. And I care about him. A lot.

  But not quite enough to say no to Jackson, it would seem.

  Love and war and the end of friendship springs to mind.

  Chapter Three

  I'm having my second wine when Sandy arrives with her other friend Ella, her boyfriend Sam, and the new guys. I attach myself to her side and then chat non stop about nothing in particular. Mainly to divert her attention away from Jackson, who's standing next to me, and now striking up a conversation with new guy number one, who looks like he's into fitness and health too.

  But Sandy's a sharp cookie and not fooled for a minute. She's intuitive with a capital I.

  “How long have you two been here?” she asks suspiciously.

  “Well I got here ten minutes ago,” I lie. “I'm not sure when the others arrived.”

  “Yeah, right. Well, this should go down well,” she says, sarcastically.

  Obviously I'm not a good liar. And she's sharper than a cookie, more like a sword.

  I come clean.

  “Okay, okay... I've been here a while. We kinda got together, outside,” I whisper in her ear.

  “It's none of my business, actually,” she huffs.

  “Sand... don't be off...” I start.

  “I'm not off.
”

  “Yes you are. “

  “Look, if you want to shag his best friend, go and do it. Only please don't rub my nose in it, because I'm just about dying for Mason to shag me.”

  “Maybe this is your chance. If we break the friend taboo, perhaps the way is open for you to move in on him. But remember, he's not boyfriend material. Just a bit of fun.”

  She looks at me considering her enhanced prospects, her tasty booty bonus on the back end of Jackson and I, and smiles a wicked little smile.

  “Oh yes...” she says slowly, linking her arm through mine. “When are you gonna tell him, soon I hope?”

  I swallow nervously at the thought. “Soonish. But not tonight. I want to enjoy myself first.”

  She snorts loudly and then breaks into a laugh. “I'd love to be a fly on the wall when that happens.”

  But it's not funny. None of it is.

  We all head off to the party, at tennish, by foot. It's a fifteen minute walk, and we follow Ella who seems to know where she's going. Jackson and I drop behind the rest of them by a few yards and he pushes me into a shop doorway for a hot kiss refresher.

  Our tongues twist together in rapture. In ten seconds my knickers are drenched and I'm just about out of my head with desire. Kissing has just been elevated to a whole new level. It's now an erotic art form. My legs have started to lose their ability to support me, and I reluctantly push him away with a groan.

  “We really need to get going... We don't know where this party is, do we?” I point out, gasping.

  “I'm more than going right now,” he replies with a chuckle, hugging me so tight I can barely breathe. “But you're right...” He releases me from the bear hug and takes my hand. “Come on then, before we lose them...”

  We walk quickly, catching the others up as they turn off the main road and down a side street. Then we turn right, then left, finally arriving at Wellington Place. Number 6.

  A tall, mid thirties redhead lets us in and we hit the kitchen, after struggling through the heaving throng.

  The whole party thing knocks my senses cock-a-hoop.

  It's noisy, hot, smoky, and full of people misbehaving. One way or another. The air is blue, literally, verbally and physically. The blue LED lights strung everywhere give it an unearthly feel. I'm not sure what's in the thick, strange smelling, smoky atmosphere that's invading my nostrils, but I can guess. Jackson shoves a pint glass of wine in my hand. I look at the manly glass of red, unimpressed.

  “No wine glasses, sorry,” he says loudly, above the din of the techno beat, thumping though the whole house and vibrating every cell of my body.

  I take a big sip and then another. I need to get in the mood. Because suddenly, I'm not.

  Sandy and Ella are doing the sidestep shuffle together. There's not much room for anything more expressive. I put my arm around his waist and he draws me in, my face against his neck. I close my eyes and drink in the feel and smell of him. He strokes my hair and smooths my ass with his palm. I open my eyes and catch Nat watching us with an evil smirk. I give him the evils back, narrowing my eyes and frowning.

  Jackson moves away and takes my hand leading me out to the hallway, which is marginally less crowded and noisy. He turns and starts to lead me up the stairs. I tense up.

  What the hell is he thinking?

  I'm not going upstairs to a stranger’s bedroom. I'd need to be a lot more drunk than this to even contemplate it.

  “No way, I'm not going up there...” I protest.

  “I was planning on resting up on the stairs for a minute, that's all.”

  “Oh, that's okay then,” I sigh with relief. He's such a nice guy, thinking of my well being.

  He sits down and stretches his long legs out and leans sideways on his elbow. I sit down with him, although it feels more like lying down with him, actually.

  He brushes my face with his finger, running it around my lip and over my stud.

  His face draws closer slowly, and his tongue licks at it. My eyes close as he teases me gently. His hand pulling me close, cupping my behind. I can feel his dick, rock hard against me.

  “This is all rather intense...” I say, reeling with highly aroused pleasure flooding through me.

  “You think so?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of my mouth.

  “You don't?” I pull back and look at him, upside and downside, pointedly. He looks pretty intensely aroused to me.

  “I don't think we've got anywhere near the intense part yet. We're warming up nicely though.” I can't help but smile at him, matching his naughty grin. “Ummm, Kaydee? I'd like to take you out on a dinner date tomorrow, if you're free?”

  “I'd like that.”

  “Any preference?”

  “Very expensive, but whatever.”

  “Ha ha... of course. Anyway, I don't do cheap seduction.”

  He grins again and his eyes crinkle up with amusement. I grab his head in my hands and move myself across him, wrapping my leg over his.

  I want to warm up some more.

  We're not participating in the party going on around us, preferring to enjoy our own private one instead. We laze on the stairs, almost oblivious to the couples traipsing up and down it, squeezing past and lurching against us, in various states of drunkenness.

  His fingertips sweep up and down my arm and across my bare shoulder. “I've wanted you for such a long time. I've been dying to touch you like this,” he says against my ear, his lips trailing a path of fire as they navigate my neck. I raise myself up and look down at him. My mouth is suddenly dry. I come to a rapid decision.

  “Shall we go?” I suggest. I don't care if I'm being too easy or fast with him. He knows I'm not that kind of girl normally. And I suddenly need him, now, desperately. I haven't been with anyone for over a year.

  The long slow seduction date tomorrow seems a long way off and I don't want to wait. The pint of wine is fuelling my desire for him to a critical point and I'm tipping over the edge of something...

  He's up on his feet in a second, and taking my hand, he pulls me off the stairs, opens the front door a few feet away, and steps outside. He squeezes my waist and kisses me on the doorstep.

  “Mine?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it's gotta be.” I laugh, and kiss him back.

  We turn and start to leave, our faces still stuck together in a smoochy kiss.

  But we don't get far, because blocking our path of exit, leaning against the gate, is Mason. The gatekeeper is crashing us, and, I sense, about to ruin our private party.

  He's taken it all in, and knows what we've been doing, and what we are going to do now.

  No doubt about it.

  No one says anything. We just stare at each other.

  He puffs at his cigarette like a maniac and then throws it on the floor in disgust.

  “Couldn't keep your hands off her, could you bro?” he spits at Jackson with venom, moving forward.

  “Any particular reason why I should?” Jackson snaps back. “You've never actually laid it out for me. Just because she dances with you doesn't mean you own her.”

  “I can give you a couple of good reasons. Kay's special and she's off the Jackson must fuck menu.”

  “Why is that exactly? Because she's on yours? Think you might fancy a brunette snack for a change?” he replies nastily.

  They square up to each other. Tempers and nostrils flaring.

  Mason's dead if this kicks off physically.

  My head goes hot and then cold and then swims.

  Oh no...no... This can't be happening...

  I try to calm them down... pushing my way between them.

  “Look Mase. I'm capable of making my own decisions about who I see,” I say in my best calming voice. He backs off and bites his lip and his eyes find mine. It's an intense look.

  “No you're not,” he begins. “Your track record isn't that great, is it? Not based on what you've told me. And this decision will be yet another bad one to add to the list. Kaydee please... Belie
ve me, you don't need someone like him,” he gestures, nodding over my shoulder to Jackson, hovering close behind me.

  My stomach is churning with something I'm not sure of. The way he's saying this and the look in his eyes. I'm overwhelmed. Because if I'm not mistaken, he cares very much about me, more than he's letting on. Which makes the whole thing even worse.

  Then they both glare at each other again, shutting little me, the piggy in the middle, out. The heat and bad vibes are building by the second.

  “Who the hell are you to judge me?” Jackson says, his rising voice dripping with derision. “You with your pack of quick fuck girlfriends. That's fucking rich. My intentions are none of your business, anyway, got that?”

  “They're not girlfriends. Just women I see. You know that because you do the same thing from time to time. And I know you haven't got it in you to be faithful to her. You know you don't. I remember Jane, your 'latest and greatest love'... to quote you, verbatim... and Emma and Rae after that.” Mason pokes Jackson in the chest, much too hard. “You cheated on them all, didn't you? You're not good for her. She's just blinded by your looks, that's all. Leave her alone Jackson. She really doesn't need you in her life.”

  My heart is beating like a drum and a rising panic and confusion takes me over. I turn and run away, tears about to spill down my cheeks. I'm naturally over sensitive. Far too sensitive for my own good. Jackson catches me up and grabs my wrist. I shrug him off, angry and full of disappointment. I don't know why, because it's not like we're serious or anything, we're hardly even together yet. No promises have been made between us. How could they be at this early stage? He doesn't know what I'm looking for or what I want and need from him.

  He's done nothing wrong at all. Yet.

  But I get the feeling he will.

  Despite my rejection, he pulls me in and hugs me, and I dismiss all my concerns momentarily, as I sink into his comforting male bulk, with a shaky snivel and a sniff. Over his shoulder I see Mason watching us, from the gate, looking brooding and so angry he's about to explode. He finally stalks off in the opposite direction, kicking the low brick wall and shouting, “Fuck her to hell, what do I care,” very loudly, so I can hear every word.