“I never do this,” she says under her breath. “Why do I never do this?”
She finishes her drink, and steps carefully down from her bar stool. “Come on,” she says, watching as I swallow the rest of my beer. “Dancing.” And I have to push through the crowd to keep up with her.
*****
I’ve never done this. I’ve never given someone else control of an evening. I’m always two steps ahead of the girl I’m taking home. Keeping close to my flat. Steering her to the places I know. Controlling the conversation to make sure she feels connected. Relaxed.
This is different. This is wild. Ketty wanted to dance on tables, and here I am, watching her dance on stage with the band as the packed club heaves around me.
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, and waved until the singer pulled her onto the stage. They’re dancing together, two blonde-haired skinny-jeaned girls under the bright lights, the crowd cheering them on.
It’s too loud to make myself heard. I elbow my way to the edge of the room, find a seat on an empty table, and watch.
She’s with me. This wild, untamed force of nature is my date this evening.
I couldn’t hope to control her.
Everything she does, she does with pride and determination. Every time she makes a mistake, she fixes it. Chin tilted up, back straight, defiant against the world. She knows what she’s worth, and she won’t let anyone take that from her.
And tonight …
Tonight she’s mine.
This isn’t Penny. This isn’t Emma. Ketty is gunpowder and passion and sparks. She’s dangerous. Unpredictable.
She’s in charge, and she’s enjoying herself. She’s dropped her armour. She’s dropped her uniform, and her usual tight control.
I’ve taken her away from Bracken, and work. I haven’t mentioned the Home Forces. I haven’t tempted her with secrets or shown up her inexperience. I’ve shown her London, and I’ve shown her what she can be.
She grins, searching the crowd for my face as she dances. I hold up my drink and pump my fist in the air, and she laughs when she sees me, swaying her hips and beckoning me to the stage. I hold up my glass and she shakes her head, turning back to the singer as they stamp their feet in time to the music.
The band plays their final song, and the singer drapes an arm round Ketty’s shoulder as she takes a bow. My ears are ringing as I push against the crowd to the front of the stage to find her, and she’s breathless as she steps down to meet me.
She’s blushing, her hair tangled, the roots dark with sweat.
“Dancing,” she says, catching her balance on my shoulder, and grins.
Close
It’s cold on the Embankment, after the heat of the club, and Ketty shivers, pulling her coat tight around her and fumbling with the buttons. It’s after midnight, and usually I’d be steering us back to my flat, but this is Ketty’s night. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s in charge.
We walk along the river, and she’s quiet as she looks out across the water. She’s pushed her hands into her pockets, and she’s walking without limping. I wonder whether she’ll pay for that in the morning.
I have painkillers. Nothing we can’t handle.
I realise how much I’ve enjoyed this evening. How much I’ve appreciated Ketty’s enjoyment. The look on her face as she danced on the stage. As she looked round the market at Somerset House. When I glance at her, she’s smiling.
Time to move this along.
“What now, Dancing Queen?” She slows her steps, and looks at me.
My heart stutters. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
I have to leave this up to her. I have to let her be the predator.
I want to take her face in my hands. I want to kiss her and whisper in her ear. I want to find a taxi and take us both home.
I know Lee wants results. He wants answers, but that’s not what I’m thinking about in this moment. I’m thinking about blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles. I’m thinking about curves and scars, and letting Ketty lead.
I’m thinking about her breathless smile as she stepped down from the stage. About the buttons on her blouse. About the scar on her knee.
She stops walking and turns to face me. I realise I’m smiling.
This is it. This is the moment when Ketty Smith lets her guard down. The moment she lets me in.
Slowly, she reaches for the collar of my coat, tightening her fists around the bunched fabric. Her eyes meet mine, dark blue under the lights along the river, and she steps closer, pressing against my chest.
She kisses me.
She kisses me, and it takes my breath away. All the times she’s mocked me, all the times she’s stood up to me, and all the times she’s pushed me away are flashing through my mind and I’m kissing her, finally breaking through her defences.
I can’t afford a mistake. I can’t afford to forget myself. I pull away, and look into her eyes.
“Is this OK?”
She nods, impatient, and pulls me back. This is real. This is Ketty’s decision – her choice – and she’s chosen me.
Slowly, I lift my hands to her face, pushing my fingers through her hair as her kiss grows more urgent. She smells of sweat and apple, and I want more. I run my hands over the back of her neck, her skin hot under my fingers. She gasps as I push under her coat, under the collar of her blouse, pulling her closer.
I can feel her hands, shaking against my collar. Her breath against my cheek. I break away, tracing the line of her jaw until I can whisper in her ear.
Until I can make her understand.
“So, Dancing Queen,” I breathe. “Your place or mine?”
Her hands tighten against my collar. She’s breathing fast, her cheek pressed to mine, her body arched against me.
She’s mine. She’s made her choice. I’m holding my breath, waiting for her answer. Letting her lead.
I’m thinking about scars. I’m thinking about her curves, under my fingers. I’m thinking about talking this wild creature to bed, and my heart is hammering.
She shakes her head, once, and straightens her spine. I cradle her face, gently, with both hands.
She’s about to give me her answer. She’s about to tell me what happens next.
She pulls back, but I follow, breathing in the scent of her hair, and for a moment she stands with me, her breath hot on my neck.
And then she steps away. She puts both hands on my shoulders and pushes me back, shaking her head. The look on her face is … what? Anger? Fear?
I can’t tell.
I can’t afford to lose her now. We break apart and I lift my hands in front of me.
“OK,” I make myself say, catching my breath. “OK.”
She pushes her fingers through her hair, watching me. She runs her hands under the collar of her coat, under her blouse, her eyes on mine.
She’s tracing my path across her skin. Watching me, her eyes wide.
She wants me. She’s taking a moment, but she wants me.
I reach out, taking her face gently in my hands, but she steps back. She shakes her head, pushing me away, her face clouding, as if she’s just woken up.
As if she’s just realised what she’s doing. What we’re doing.
“No,” she says, her voice unsteady. “I’m done. I’m going.”
I can’t believe I’m losing her. I can’t believe this is it. This is her choice.
“What did I do?” I sound ridiculous. I sound as if I don’t care.
She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says. “I just …”
She stops, staring at me. Lee was right. She’s not a clueless recruit. She’s not one of the Home Forces girls. She’s dangerous, and she’s determined, and I’ve underestimated her.
I have to bite back a laugh. I’ve done everything I could think of. I’ve stepped back and followed her lead. I’ve put myself in her hands. I’ve given Ketty all the power, and she’s walking away.
She’s looking at me, watching my face
as I try not to laugh, and it’s not attraction I see in her eyes. It’s disgust. With me? With herself? I can’t tell. But I know I’ve lost my chance with Ketty Smith.
“I’m going home,” she says. “Good night, David.” And she turns away, the warmth of her body dissolving in the cold air.
I stagger forward, catching myself on the railings at the edge of the path. Her shape is a silhouette, a shadow walking away from me in the dark. As I watch, she lifts her hands again, tracing my touch. Her hair shines gold in the streetlights as she pushes her fingers back, under the collar of her blouse.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles, out of reach.
Curves and scars that I’ll never see.
I was wrong. I’ve never owned Ketty. I’ve never owned her scar, or her loyalty. She’s never given me power, and I don’t know how to take it. She’s a predator, and she knows how to defend herself. She knows I’m dangerous, and she’s made her decision.
For the second time I’m watching Corporal Smith walk away in the dark. I’m thinking through what happened, wondering what went wrong.
And for the second time, I’m walking home alone.
Advice
Lydia is laughing as she puts a mug of black coffee in front of me, and sits down across the table.
“Let me get this straight,” she says. “All your tricks. All your smooth talking. All this weaponised gorgeousness …” She points a finger at my face, grinning. “None of it survived contact with the girl from the RTS?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to be sitting here. I don’t want to hear my failures outlined by Sergeant Wheelan, but I do need the coffee.
I haven’t slept, and Lee is expecting my report in twenty minutes.
I don’t know what I’m going to tell him.
“Just so I’m clear.” Lydia waves a hand to keep me quiet. “Last time you failed to tempt Bracken’s girl with your charms, you called Private Penny to be your consolation prize.” I shrug, and take a sip of my coffee. “Which …” she says, pointing at me again, “led directly to the Penny-dumping drama.”
I can’t help groaning.
“Lydia. Do we have to?”
She gives me a sunny smile. “Oh, yes, David,” she says, clearly enjoying every word. “We very much have to. I need to know everything.”
I roll my eyes, and wrap my hands round my mug.
“So instead of walking away, instead of admitting defeat, you decided it was time to try again with the delicious Corporal Smith.”
I hold up my hand. “Lee,” I say. “Lee decided.”
“Ah, yes.” She nods. “I had forgotten that your conquests are mandated by the brigadier.” She clasps her hands together on the table and gives me a disconcertingly accurate impression of an excited schoolgirl. “It’s so romantic!”
My head hurts, and I feel as if my skull is full of fog. I give her a hard stare, and she laughs again.
“So. Let’s see if I can piece this together. You went out. Carefully chosen bars? A path that accidentally passed your front door at a strategic moment?”
I shake my head. I might as well play along. “Not this time.”
She nods, smirking. “Trying new things, David? I approve.”
“Steering her towards my place didn’t work last time. She doesn’t like being told what to do.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” She’s still smirking. “So, what did you do?”
I take a breath. “I let her decide.”
“Bold move.” She nods. “And how did that work out for you?”
I think about the evening. Ketty, dancing on the stage. About walking along the river at midnight.
“She kissed me,” I say, and take a sip of coffee.
“She kissed you?” Lydia puts her mug down, and clutches a hand to her chest. “Was it passionate? Did the earth move? Did the stars fall out of the sky?”
She wants me to react. She wants me to confess. I can feel the colour rising in my cheeks, so I shrug, and she squeals.
“She kissed you, and it was breathtaking.” She tilts her head and looks at me. “So how did you end up walking home alone? What did you do wrong, Corporal?” She waves a hand at me. “This is supposed to be your superpower – tempting girls to do everything you want them to do.”
I stare at the mug in my hands. I’ve been asking myself this question all night. I did everything I could think of. I let Ketty decide. I followed her rules, and I gave her a night away from work.
And she kissed me. She kissed me. I didn’t force her to do anything.
But I remember the look in her eyes as she pushed me away. Disgust. Anger. As if she was waking up from a bad dream.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why she changed her mind.
“She’s not a girl,” I say, looking up at Lydia and pushing my mug away. “She’s definitely not a Home Forces girl, and I have no idea how to work with that.”
Lydia gives me a sad smile. “You’re right. You don’t.”
I shake my head and force myself to stand up. I need to get back to the office. Lydia sits back in her chair, watching me.
“It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” She says, quietly. I run a hand through my hair, and wait for her judgement. “You don’t know how to work with feelings, David. You have no idea what to do when all this means something – when you actually like the person you’re trying to sleep with.”
“Don’t tell me,” I say, holding both hands up in front of me. “I’m in trouble.”
I’m expecting her to laugh, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t need to tell you, Corporal. You already know.”
“So I should walk away.”
She shrugs. “If she’s too much for you, yes. Go back to picking up girls from the mail room.”
I’m snapping at her before I can stop myself. “She’s not too much …”
Lydia raises an eyebrow. “Then figure it out. Give her another chance. She obviously likes this …” She waves her finger at my face again. “Why not find out what else she likes? What she wants from you?”
I shake my head. I don’t have time for this.
She catches my sleeve as I walk away. “Lose the training wheels, David,” she says. “Try a grown-up relationship, for once.”
I pull my sleeve out of her grip. I don’t need Lydia telling me what to do. I shouldn’t have told her about last night.
“Good luck with the brigadier,” she calls after me, and I’m sure she’s smiling.
My head is aching and my face is burning as I head for the door.
*****
“So?” Lee sits behind his desk, arms folded. “You look as if you’ve had a busy night.”
One coffee wasn’t enough. The ache in my skull is getting worse, and the dark circles under my eyes are advertising my lack of sleep.
He thinks I’ve been up all night with Ketty, and I haven’t figured out what to tell him.
He watches me, waiting for a reaction. He’s waiting for my report, but it’s all I can do to stand up straight. My thoughts are lost in a fog of exhaustion.
And suddenly, he’s laughing.
“Again, Corporal?” He asks, but there’s no humour in his voice. “Your charms failed again?”
I nod, my face hot. “Yes, Sir.”
He taps a finger on his desk, watching my reaction. Making me wait.
“Explain something to me,” he says, eventually. “I want information from the mail room, and it takes you two days to bed a pretty little girl and bring me everyone’s secrets. I want information from the transport office, and it takes you two days to bed someone’s secretary. I want information on catering for meetings, and you have it for me the next day.” He looks up at me. “What’s the problem here, Corporal? What is so difficult about getting Bracken’s babysitter drunk and distracted, and showing her a good time?”
I clear my throat, but all I can manage is a whisper. “I tried, Sir. We …”
He waves a hand to
stop me. “I don’t care. Whatever you did, it didn’t work. She’s outsmarted you, and you have nothing to give me. Nothing to show for your efforts.”
“No, Sir.”
“I don’t think you understand, Corporal,” he says. “I warned you not to underestimate Katrina Smith, and here you are. I told you she wouldn’t make this easy for you, and you decided that you knew better. I told you she wouldn’t appreciate manipulation, and I can only assume that you …”
“Sir,” I say, and he glares at me. “I didn’t underestimate her. I didn’t manipulate her. I took her out for the evening and I let her decide what to do.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And how did Bracken’s decorative assistant choose to spend her evening?”
“Drinking, dancing, exploring London. She enjoyed herself.” I can’t find the words to explain what happened – to explain that I did everything right. “It was going well. I thought she would … we would …”
The look on his face derails my protests, and my face feels as if it’s on fire.
“She did what she always does!” He’s shouting now. “She looked after Bracken, and she kept the rest of us from getting too close. She knows she’s only here because of him, and she’s his guard dog as well as his babysitter.” He shakes his head. “She intimidated you, and you backed off. I ordered you to find out her secrets, and you were too frightened to follow through.”
“Sir, I …”
“Sit down, Corporal.” He waves a hand at the chair next to me. “This isn’t over. We need a plan.”
He watches as I take a seat.
“Romance isn’t working. Alcohol didn’t win you any prizes.” He smirks. “Any other secret weapons in your arsenal of seduction?”
I’m doing my best to ignore his remarks, and I’m thinking about the first time I met Ketty and Bracken. About Lee’s comments.
“You said something, Sir. When she first came to London. Something about offering her what she needs …”
Balancing Act Page 15