“Seventh Heaven, please,” Kema told the driver as he laughed at our outfits. “You’re going to love it there, Neve. Have you ever been to a gay bar?” Gay bar? My face was all the answer she needed and she roared with laughter. “Oh, you’re in for an eye-opening experience!” The others all nodded in agreement and shared stories of their respective first times. I was sure they were winding me up with some of their tales. But, if they weren’t, I felt safe in the company of this motley crew who had quickly become my friends.
After paying our entrance fee at the door, we were shepherded into a dim hallway, our only guide the thumping music coming from a room on the other side of a double doorway at its end. When we reached the doors, Kema flashed us all a huge smile.
“Ready, everyone?” She threw open the doors and my eyes struggled to adjust to the flashing lights of the space beyond. Entering this underworld, my senses were assaulted. Some faintly-recognisable disco tune was blaring, the lights blinking and turning in time with its rhythm. Everywhere I looked were people: people in fancy dress, people in fetish gear, people in next to nothing.
“Close your mouth, Bella,” Mickey joked, grabbing my hand and creating a path through the crowd. And that was when the smell hit me: a combination of sweat, face-paint and rubber. “Millie’s over by the DJ, see?” I looked over to the DJ’s booth and saw a silver afro waving both arms. Feeling more confident now I knew the direction we were heading, I noticed how many of the revellers were male. Naively, I’d thought a gay bar would be a more equal balance of gay and lesbian but I was wrong. Not that I was complaining as many of the men were gorgeous – and semi-naked. Opting to smile and make the most of the position I found myself in, I greeted Millie with a grin.
“I didn’t know you were coming, as well!”
“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you? It’s going to be amazing!” She took a drink from one of the people stood with her, some of whom I recognised. “You and Mickey look too cute!”
“Thanks. I didn’t realise they had cats in space.” Millie wore a silver leotard, tights and ears. Even her cat nose and whiskers were silver to match the giant afro she had teased her hair into.
“I’ll take that as a compliment! Fancy a dance?” Without waiting for my reply, she pulled me into a tiny space and started dancing. It had been ages since I last danced and I had forgotten it felt so liberating. With the state of some of the other dancers, there was no way people were going to waste their time looking at me. I let the beat move through my veins until I had tuned out almost everything other than its rhythm.
Other than stopping for a bottle of water, I spent the whole night dancing. Sometimes Mickey joined me, sometimes Millie did, sometimes PVC-clad strangers were my dance partners. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so free. Everyone around me was focused on enjoying each other’s company; I swear I had never seen so much kissing and touching in one place.
It was a room filled with promise. And I loved every moment I spent in that space.
“It’s time to go, honey,” Mickey shouted as he grabbed hold of my hands. I let out a petulant sigh but was wise enough to leave with them.
Emerging from the darkness of the club entrance into the pre-dawn moonlight, I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so happy.
His hands gripped my waist, tugging me to him. My back moulded to the hard plane of his chest and I leant my head against his shoulder. As his hands moved down the curve of my hips, I felt a tingle of electricity jolt through me. Holding me so tight I could feel the denim of his jeans through the gauzy material of my dress, he nudged my head to one side. Raining a line of kisses on my neck, he rendered me incapable of rational thought.
I pushed my hips back into his, desperately trying to increase the contact between us. I felt his tell-tale response which caused a flush of heat to pervade every part of me. I groaned and felt his kisses turn to light nips, his teeth grazing my skin and leaving a millisecond of cool dampness in their wake.
Craving more, I turned in his arms and he pulled me even closer than I was before. His hands were now on my bum, holding me so close I swear I could feel every line, every ridge of him. When I looped my arms around his neck, he picked me up, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist.
“Hold on,” he muttered into my neck, gripping me tightly as he walked us over to a nearby wall. Leaning back against it, he continued to hold me against him as his mouth searched out mine. His tongue was soon doing battle with mine, his stubble lightly grazing my skin. Now able to feel him pressed between my legs, the front of my dress bunched up at my waist, I needed him to hold me in place or I would have become a molten puddle on the floor. When he started gently thrusting at me, my knickers offered no protection from the friction he created. I heard the wanton moaning coming from my throat in time with the movements of his hips but didn’t care who heard. As the pressure of his mouth and hips increased, I tipped over the edge.
“Jake!” I screamed before everything went black.
The dream wakes me up with a raging hard-on. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I don’t want the dreams to stop. They take away the pain, if only for a few unconscious minutes. I remember every detail: the taste of her skin, the weight of her as I hold her, the feeling of heat between her legs. Home. The only place I want to be, but can’t.
Knowing nobody else will be up this early, I grab a shower and help myself to calm down. Will I ever get to a point where she isn’t the sole focus of my dreams, my fantasies?
I’m waiting outside Liam’s house well before eight, dreading a day of working with him. Bill usually assigns me the jobs which only need one person as he knows he can trust me to get on with it and do a good job. However, today needs two of us so here I am, waiting for the twattish Liam to get his arse into gear and at least pretend to do a day’s work. I’m sure Bill only gave him the job as he’s his grandson and he doesn’t want him spending his days collecting dole money and lying on the sofa. So today I have to babysit him and try to get him to do some work. Great.
As expected, Liam finally walks out the door ten minutes late. Also as expected, he is dressed more for a night out than a day of hard work. Skinny jeans and Vans are hardly appropriate for turfing and digging a new border. Desperate to just get the day over with, I grunt hello as he gets into the van and pull away.
By lunchtime, I’m beyond pissed off. All Liam has done is drink tea and flirt with the homeowner, a lonely thirty-something with nothing but time on her hands. He even sat with her watching me lay the new lawn. He decides to ‘pop out’ for his lunch, which I know means he will spend the next couple of hours at a local pub, arriving back in time to collect the payment for the job.
After downing my sandwiches and a drink in the van, I make my way back to the garden, determined to get the new border sorted as quickly as possible so I can ditch Liam and get another couple of lawns mowed. Closing the side gate behind me, I’m surprised by the change in view. Lying on a sunbed, dressed in just a red bikini top and very short shorts, is the homeowner. Whether she is looking for someone to talk to or something more, I’m not interested. Fearing her ridiculous clothing in bloody October means she is in the mood for more than talking, I put my earphones in and studiously avoid looking at her as I make my way to the section I’ll be working on.
I swear it’s less than five minutes before she is tapping me on the shoulder, her body angled to show off her curves. With a sigh, I pull out my earphones and look at her, barely masking my annoyance.
“Can I get you a drink?” Even her voice is annoying.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” I say and replace one of my earphones before she continues talking.
“Please, just a drink and a chat.” As much as I want to be rude, I know Bill would be disappointed in me if I messed up this contract. “I have Coke, water, tea, something stronger if you fancy it?” Really?
“A Coke would be great, thanks.” I give in for the sake of my job.
“Come on, then. Y
ou can wash your hands whilst I get it sorted.” She leaves me with no choice but to follow her ass-wiggle walk back to the house.
Before I’ve finished washing my hands, I feel her press against me from behind. And, as much as I wish it didn’t affect me, the feel of her tits against my back is enough to make me hard. I’m only human. She slides her arms around my waist and presses closer to me.
“You feel amazing, Jake. It’s been so long since I touched someone. Since anyone touched me.” I spend a moment too long debating how to get out of this with my job and her dignity intact and, in that split second, her hand moves lower, until she is gripping me through my jeans. Shit.
“Umm, I’m sorry, umm, I need to finish the garden,” is all I can say.
“Don’t worry about that. You can come back tomorrow. I’ll pay extra.” As she speaks, she is rubbing me, coercing me, trying to get my cock to take over my brain. Of course there is a moment where I consider the idea of a meaningless fuck. It feels like years since I was last with Neve. Neve.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, pulling myself away. “I have a girlfriend. It wouldn’t feel right. I’ll take the drink outside.” Somehow, I slide myself away from her and go outside, deciding not to plant the myrtle I had brought with me, today like every day.
I dig like a man possessed.
I am.
By Neve.
I always will be.
Unable to sleep, I put my hands behind my head and watch the orange-hued shadows play on my bedroom ceiling. I replay the scene with the client earlier and wonder if that’s all the action I’m going to get in the future: offers of sex from desperate women that one day I end up accepting.
I can’t see a life for me with anyone other than Neve, so I guess I know the answer. Maybe that will be easier? No hassle, no emotions, no love. Who am I kidding? That isn’t what I want. Who would?
Thinking about making love to Neve brings all of me to life again. What I wouldn’t give right now to have her here with me. To have her hands touch me. To feel her heartbeat next to mine as we come down together. To look into her eyes and smile at her, both of us amazed by the beauty of what we’ve just shared.
What the fuck have I done?
I was awoken by the ping of a text. Just about managing to read it through scrunched-up eyes, I saw it was a message telling me I had a delivery to collect from the porters’ lodge. Remembering the last one has been the dress from Garrett, I sighed and felt none of the usual excitement at receiving a delivery. The second ping told me it was a ‘fresh’ delivery and they advised immediate collection.
My attempts at tidying myself up were little more than tokenistic and, after popping to the shop next door to pick up some orange juice and cereal, I reluctantly made my way to the small hut which served as the central post office for campus. As soon as I saw the smile on the porter’s face when I showed him my ID, my heart sank. When he returned, I couldn’t see his face, hidden behind a huge bouquet. Yes, it was beautiful, all delicate white flowers and tissue paper, but I knew who it was from. Garrett.
“Do you have a wife? A girlfriend?” I’m sure the porter thought I was making a move on him, judging by the embarrassed blush on his wrinkled face.
“Yes. Yes, I have.” I forgave him the second or two it took him to remember that fact.
“Here you go. Give her these,” I said, removing the card I didn’t want to read. “I don’t want them.” The old man was immobile, unsure of what to do. “Please. It would be a shame to waste them. They look expensive.”
“That they do. They’re from that posh florist down Church Street.”
“Well, there you are then. Take them home to someone who will appreciate them.” Not really giving him much choice, I walked out.
Ironically, Garrett’s flowers made me think of Jake. He had never bought me flowers, saying he couldn’t understand why people would want to display something that is dying. Plants are filled with life. Cut flowers are already on their journey to death, cut down for the selfish pleasure of others.
When he had told me, it had reminded me of what Atticus Finch says about killing mockingbirds: that it is a sin to kill something which only brings joy to others. Jake’s true wisdom was what angered me when he implied he wasn’t clever enough, wasn’t good enough. His decision to take the apprenticeship instead of going to uni was nothing to do with intelligence; he had similar grades to Flynn. It was a shame that he couldn’t see what others saw in him. What I saw in him.
Gulping down orange juice, I steeled myself to open the card, expecting a smarmy apology. Instead, it was a simple request:
What? Did he really think that, after his behaviour, I would just follow his order? There was no way I was going to start all of that again. I had learned my lesson.
I spent the rest of the day in the library, breaking up the studying with a few text chats. By the time I was ready to leave, I had arranged another evening at Seventh Heaven with Mickey and a visit home the following weekend. Smug at my productivity, I left the building, intent on an evening of laundry and loud music.
But there he was. Garrett. Leaning against the wall. Not actually blocking my way, but there was no way of avoiding him. I squared my shoulders and faked confidence.
“Hi,” I said, whilst passing him.
“Neve, stop,” he replied, reaching out to grab my arm. I pointedly pulled it from his grasp and took a step back before looking at him.
“What do you want, Garrett?” Even he must have picked up on the not-hidden-at-all sigh in my voice.
“Did you get my flowers?”
“Yes.” Maybe it wasn’t time to tell him that the porter’s wife was probably admiring them on her dining table as we spoke.
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“Because I didn’t want to. I don’t want to.”
“Why? Because you think I’m a dick? I know I went about it all wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I don’t want to lose you, Neve. You mean too much to me. Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.” The annoying whine of his voice gave me courage.
“I’ll tell you what you have to do. Leave me alone. I’m not interested. I told you that. We could have been friends but you’ve ruined that now.” His face twisted and I was glad we were somewhere so public, even if it meant there were inevitable eavesdroppers milling around.
“Please, Neve.” His voice dropped until only we could hear it. “Please. I’m begging you to change your mind.” He took my hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I’ll take it slow. I promise. I know we will be so good together.” Each cliché made the bile rise on my throat, and I couldn’t believe I had ever found him attractive.
“No. I’m. Not. Interested. Goodbye.” I pulled my hand from his and walked away from him.
“You’ll regret this.” I heard his closing words and a shiver ran through me.
“I don’t know what to do now, Cass. I’m such a fool.”
“You don’t think he would do anything bad, though?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. Remembering what he had been like the night at the beachfront, I knew there was a sinister side to him, one which was reluctant to be anything less than the one in control. And whilst, like many girls, I had read my fair share of books with hot and sexy alpha guys, this reality wasn’t living up to the fantasy.
“Maybe you should tell campus security?”
“Tell them what? There’s a boy who wants to go out with me and he bought me some flowers? There’s nothing else to tell. Maybe it’s just in my imagination.”
“That’s bullshit, Neve, and you know it. What about your personal tutor? If you’re scared, you have to tell someone. Promise me you will.” I knew her concern was based on her own experience last year; after all, if she had told someone the first time Rob attacked her, things might not have panned out the way they did. But this wasn’t anything like that. Garrett was annoying, but he wasn’t going to attack me.
“Okay, I’ll talk to them this week,” I p
romised, sure she couldn’t see my crossed fingers within the Skype screen. “Can we talk about something else now?”
“Are you feeling down? Could do with a pick-me-up?” Cass’s sing-song voice was an abrupt shift in mood.
“Umm, yeah, I suppose so. Why?”
“I think it’s open-the-box time!” Her smile beamed at me across the miles of ether. My facial expression belied my incomprehension. “The box! You know, the box I gave you when you came home!” I looked over to the corner of my room at the said box, sitting next to the pile of pebbles.
“Oh, that box!”
“Yes, that box. Now hang up, open the box and follow the instructions. Ring me back in ten minutes and we can start.” Her strange instructions were followed by the monotone of a disconnected line.
I sat the box on my bed, wondering what I would find inside. After carefully unwrapping it, I took off the lid and smiled. Inside was a selection of items intended to give me a reminder of home and, especially, time spent with Cass.
I put the rainbow-coloured socks with toes on; we always joked that socks were the only thing we could share, given the difference in our sizes. I lit the vanilla candle, breathing in the scent Mum always chose for home. I put the family size bag of Minstrels to one side, ready to enjoy whilst watching the DVD which was the only thing left in the box: Ella Enchanted. Just seeing the cover took me back to being ten years old again. Cass and I had gone to see the film at the cinema and had become obsessed with both the film and Hugh Dancy. I swear the only DVD we watched for close to a year was that film. We knew every single word; I had even written it out as a script in an old exercise book somewhere. I grinned and picked up my phone.
“You absolute frickin’ superstar!”
Cass and I hit play at the same time, watching the film in synchronisation, even across the miles which separated us. We sang along together, swooned over Prince Char and cheered on ass-kicking Ella. Just like the old days, we muted the final, cringe-worthy song and dance number.
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