Perhaps.... Perhaps

by Dale, Lindy

  Chapter 15

  The next Monday morning Flora stood in front of the full-length mirror, once again, having her eyes assaulted by a lack of matching underwear. Well, that’s just fabulous, she thought, turning from side to side and hoping she was dreaming. Not only had she gone and mucked things up with Luke but while he had been kissing her neck, the mysterious undie stealer had paid her another visit and this time, she had left a note remarking on Flora’s taste in knickers.

  Scornfully, she scowled at the pink undies and blue bra in the mirror. How dare this person invade her ordered world and steal her things! How dare they dare to leave her pretty notes on handmade paper! It would never do. It made her feel dirty to realise this pervert was rating her knickers. Heavens knows what else they had seen.

  And what about she and Luke? The suggestion that they should ‘just be friends’ was as ludicrous as the idea of a blue bra and pink undies belonging together. Cross, she tutted at her reflection in the mirror. She could not be friends with Luke because, well frankly, she was desperate for him. So desperate, it was bordering on an obsession. And another obsession was the one thing she did not need in her life.

  ****

  At morning tea, Flora did meticulous circles of the oval. Edge to edge, corner to corner, just the same as every other time she was supervising the yard. Nobody would have noticed anything untoward in her behaviour as she munched her apple around it’s perimeter from skin to core, the way she always did as she scanned her eyes across the playground. The children only saw her face, trained with astuteness on those Year Sevens who caused havoc on the adventure playground. None of them would have guessed that hidden behind her sunglasses and wide brimmed hat, Flora’s mind was not in the playground at all. It was rooted in that tragic place between realities and dreams. And unfortunately for her, the dreams were winning. Luke…. in his smoky suit jacket…. Luke…. naked…..they were wonderful fantasies. Brooke could have sat on poor Eloise and squashed her senseless for all Flora knew or realised.

  A cricket ball sizzled past her nose. ‘Sorry Miss,’ Troy Bannister yelled, as he dashed past her, running between the wickets. Flora didn’t respond, she didn’t even hear him.

  Maybe I should tell him I’ve changed my mind, she pondered, stepping in a hash brown flung in the direction of the bin by Samuel as he flew past. Abhorred, she bent down to pick it up and flicked it into the bin, cleaning her hands with a tissue from her pocket. A girl was allowed to change her mind. Wasn’t she? She was sure other people did it all the time, even if it wasn’t the type of thing Flora did. Her decisions were considered, made, left no room for error and certainly never gone back on.

  So, she had changed her mind that much was certain, but what if Luke wasn’t interested anymore? Could she handle another rejection? Of course she could. Anything would be better than dreaming about him every night and never knowing.

  ‘MISS OWENS!’

  Flora looked up. She had been lost in her thoughts. The bell had gone and she was standing in the middle of an emptying oval, alone and holding a browning apple core.

  Troy Bannister stared at her queerly. ‘Are you alright Miss?’

  God. She was losing it.

  ****

  At lunch Flora found a quiet place to think at her desk, in her classroom. With the excuse that she had tonnes to do - an absolute lie that everyone would see right though – she had managed, with success, to avoid eating in the staffroom and was sitting, munching her daily salad and pondering the situation at hand. It was a matter of time, she knew, before Luke or the girls would wonder where she was and start asking questions. She needed answers.

  ‘What are you doing hiding in here, like some sort of monk?’

  Flora’s shoulders dropped. It seemed the time had come. Reality was standing in front of her and it was wearing a lovely Cue skirt and Witchery shirt.

  ‘Are you in a snip with us? Is it because we made fun of you on Saturday night or something?’ PJ perched herself on the edge of Flora’s desk trying, unconvincingly, to look consoling.

  Flora sighed. ‘No. Frankly, I don’t care if you make fun of me anymore.’

  ‘Are you premenstrual?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what the bloody hell is wrong? You look like Miriam told you she’s coming to live at your house.’ PJ’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! She hasn’t put you on probation over that Barker cow has she? Carmel warned you to watch out for that witch!’

  ‘It’s nothing like that. I’m … er…. um …. snowed under. You know how it is,’ If anybody knew the consequences of lack of preparation it would be those two.

  Louise folded her arms. ‘Don’t believe you. You’re pissed off because Luke came out for dinner with us and tried to crack on to me. You’re hiding from him, that’s why you’re eating in here.’

  Flora winced. That one had hit the nail a little to close to the head. ‘I’m not, I tell you, I have a dreadful headache and if I have to listen to one more conversation about leg waxing or the state of the curriculum I think I’ll go insane.’

  She sunk her head into her hands as if to demonstrate her misery. She did have a headache, largely brought about by the fact that she had become so obsessed that Luke might pop in, she had spent the entire day calling Olivia by the name Matilda and the two didn’t look anything alike. She had glued the children’s work upside down into their scrapbooks, and marked correct sums that were not - Not unless 6+6 had suddenly become 14. She was feeling displaced in her own environment and more than a little confused.

  ‘Someone’s been nicking my undies,’ she confessed at last, hoping that the revelation would throw them off the true scent.

  ‘What? From your clothes line?’ Louise looked shocked. Surely that couldn’t be the entire reason.

  ‘Yes. If I lose another pair, I’ll be doing a Britney by next week.’

  ‘Now that I’d like to see,’ Louise laughed. ‘No wonder you’re stressed out. Your knicker drawer must be an absolute shambles. How are you coping with wearing mismatched underwear?’

  Flora glared at her. Mismatched underwear was the least of her worries. ‘It’s not funny, Louise. I’ve been getting these queer notes, too. First, one on my windscreen and then one pegged to the line where the missing undies should have been.’

  ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Just this term.’

  ‘What’re you going to do?’ asked PJ.

  Flora pursed her lips, her shoulders lifting and falling to expel a deep sigh. ‘I guess it’s like the Police told you with the break in, there’s not much I can do.’

  ‘But some weirdo is watching you.’

  ‘Hmm.’ And she, in turn was practically stalking Luke, so where was the sense.

  Lack of further information forthcoming, PJ decided to change the subject. ‘Dylan wants me to move in with him.’

  ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ She’d seen the rosy glow in PJ’s cheeks the last few days, but that still didn’t make it right.

  ‘I know you don’t like him but he isn’t mean, really. Well, not all the time.’

  Flora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘He puts you down and he calls you fat.’

  ‘It’s only because he cares about my health.’

  ‘He doesn’t care two hoots about your health,’ Louise said. ‘He wants someone to pick up his socks because he’s too lazy to do it for himself. You don’t have to settle for second best, you know, there are lots of lovely men in the world and you’re only twenty nine.’

  ‘But I love him.’

  ‘Yes, Sweetie, we know you do,’ Louise soothed. ‘But the question is; does he love you?’

  ‘Who’s in love?’

  In unison, the girls’ eyes flicked towards the classroom door where James, Year Six, was hovering. How long had he been listening? Flora wondered. If he had heard anything he would be bound to go and spread it around, she was positive. He might have looked cute but he was fast earning a reput
ation as odd in her mind.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here, James?’ PJ asked, confirming Flora’s own thoughts. ‘This is a private conversation. Are you following us again?’

  James lifted his hand, waving a syllabus in their direction. ‘I wanted to return this to Flora and I couldn’t find her in the staff room so I figured she’d be here.’

  PJ walked over to the door and snatched the book from his hand, dismissing him. ‘Well, you’ve returned it now. Bye James.’

  James didn’t move.

  ‘Was there something else?’ PJ demanded, which even in her despair Flora found faintly amusing. PJ was behaving as if he was invading her own personal space.

  James looked from girl to girl. ‘I wanted a word with Flora but it can wait.’

  ‘Okay. Well, off you go then,’ said Louise, hopping off the desk and all but shoving him out the door. ‘Honestly, he is such a loser,’ she added to his retreating back. ‘You should’ve never been nice to him. He’s like a lovesick puppy.’

  ‘I used to think he was sweet,’ Flora admitted, as she took the book from PJ and filed it back into its alphabetised place on the bookshelf where she kept her educational texts.

  ‘Mmm. If you like the serial killer type.’

  ‘Flower?’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Suddenly, Louise looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry I took Luke the other night, but honestly, I thought you weren’t interested.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Can we get over it then and go shopping after school. I saw this cute top in Alanna Hill.’

  Flora shook her head. Louise would never change.

  Chapter 16

  ‘You’re not seriously going to go back to that dance class, are you?’ Flora could almost hear PJ saying the words and envisage the teasing look on her face as she rhumba’d her way around the dance floor the following Friday evening. She didn’t know why she’d gone back and judging from the look on Enrico’s face as she wiggled past, he was in the dark too. There he was, poor fellow, clapping the beat and barking directions at the back of her head to no avail. She’d been doing so well until then, improving every week. But all had been shot in the foot. She couldn’t seem to concentrate.

  Frustrated, Flora tried to count the steps in her head. Enrico’s reaction that night had caused her to come to the conclusion that she was not the natural dancer she dreamt of being. For if she were, she would never have let her current predicament affect her so. There was a major flaw somewhere in her performance and she knew exactly where the problem lay. Oh, she could keep the rhythm and dance on her toes like Enrico had shown her. She did not stomp like an elephant on Prozac - as he’d remarked to the girl beside her - and she knew how to hold her frame. Yet somehow, when she looked in the mirrors that surrounded the studio, she was not seeing that magical transformation that Baby experienced in Dirty Dancing. In fact, she looked more like a gawky jellyfish with an oyster shell stuck in it’s belly. It was Luke’s fault, of course.

  You see, Luke was there too, trotting around the floor like some Latin God in his black pants and white open necked shirt, making her all hot and bothered. His moves were so practised and smooth that every time he swung by and smiled in that new ‘friendly’ way, she forgot what she was doing. And if that wasn’t enough of a distraction he was practising his rumba with someone else. A someone who was extraordinarily pretty and was thrusting her bosom at him at any given opportunity. Flora was so incensed she couldn’t concentrate. How dare he!

  Watching him from the corner of her eye, Flora heard the groan of agony reverberating inside her head and building to escape from her lips. For the last three nights she had woken up in a cold sweat, or was it a hot flush? She had dreamt that Luke had been dancing around the bed - while she was in it - doing a sort of sexy rumba strip tease. He had ripped his white shirt from his body to reveal a hard, hairless chest and then proceeded to crawl on top of her, writhing to the music of Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. His lips had set her body on fire as they’d pressed into the hollow at the base of her neck and under her hairline. His fingers had assumed a life of their own, tickling and tempting her in her dreams. With erratic breath Flora had woken, sitting bolt upright in bed and throbbing all over. She had not been able to sleep for the remainder of the night or the two nights that followed. Even yoga breathing and visualisations had not helped. Luke’s body and Luke’s lips had managed to insinuate themselves into her calming state, too. Now it looked as if he was trying to torture her in real life.

  For a while the evening went on this fashion, until Enrico declared, ‘Let us swap.’ He looked forgivingly at Flora’s partner as he said it; perhaps wanting to give the poor guy a break from her fuddled feet.

  ‘Why don’t you two dance together, instead?’ he suggested, thrusting her into Luke’s embrace as if he knew what she’d been thinking about two minutes before. ‘You will be perfect.’

  Overcome by jitters, Flora stared up into Luke’s dark chocolate eyes. Yes, they would be perfect. Her dream was confirmation of that. She only hoped he still thought so.

  ‘So. Fancy meeting you here,’ she said as they began to move. It sounded pathetic, she knew, but it was the best she could muster without drooling at his feet.

  ‘Fancy.’

  ‘Funny how we keep turning up in the same places,’ she remarked, stepping on his toe and realising how bad she was at multi-tasking when he was present. In any other situation speaking, dancing and counting the beats in her head would have been a doddle but Luke and his soft lips and hard body addled her brain. ‘People might think you’re following me.’

  ‘The same could be said for you.’

  Spiritedly, he threw her into a dip and gazed down into her eyes. A slow smile played against his lips and Flora felt herself blush. How dare he imply that? She had been doing no such thing. She was a very sensible girl. Except in her dreams, it appeared.

  ‘I’m not following you. I enrolled for this course a long time before I met you.’

  Luke twirled her under his arm and pulled her to him. ‘Pity. Because I’ve been following you all week. It hasn’t been easy either, you keep on hiding. I was beginning to think you meant what you said last weekend about us never being together.’

  Oh bugger, thought Flora, her bravado flying out the window. He hadn’t had to say that. And losing what little coordination she’d had before, she trod squarely on his undone shoelace causing him to lurch towards her, unable to regain his balance because he was holding her hands. A tangled mass of arms and legs, he landed on the parquet floor with Flora on top of him.

  Bugger.

  Enrico raced to the CD player to stop the music. The room, that a moment before was coiling and twisting under the chandelier, came to an instant halt. Everyone was staring at Flora lying on top of Luke’s warm chest, which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, she decided, except that her skirt was around her shoulders and her mismatched underwear bared to the world.

  ‘So…. I…um, er, I don’t suppose you’d want to follow me to my place for a coffee?’ she whispered, too scared to look along the expanse of chest and into his face.

  ‘Under the circumstances, I think it might be wise but only to avoid further embarrassment, of course.’

  ****

  With the moonlight streaming through the open window, Flora stood in the doorway and watched as Luke flicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head without undoing the buttons, just like in her dream, except without the music. His shoulders were strong, leading to a bare, firm chest that was just as she’d imagined it would be and his left nipple was decorated with a small gold ring, the very last thing she would ever have expected. From there her eyes traced down his tight toned torso. He was magnificent.

  ‘Come here,’ he groaned, and Flora stepped towards him. ‘You’ve no idea the torture it’s been, watching you all week.’ Gently, he placed his hands on her waist and she quivered. ‘You’re all I think about, day and night.’

>   ‘What? Not dancing or school?’

  Luke’s lips bent into the smallest of smiles. Then as slow as slow, he skimmed them across her naked shoulder, nuzzling as he peeled her top from her body, moaning as he caressed her bare flesh with his mouth. ‘Definitely not dancing,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you could do with some practice, you know,’ Flora teased, trying not to let his lips entrance her. ‘You’re not as good as you think.’

  With their own mind, her hands crept up to his neck and onto the soft skin at the nape. The heat under her fingers burnt and made her quiver.

  ‘At what?’ he growled and threw her to the bed beside him, trapping her in his arms.

  Flora wasn’t quite sure of the answer. It didn’t matter anyway.

  For the longest while they lay quiet, staring into each other’s eyes in the semi darkness. Flora could see what he meant about torture, the wanting was the most exquisite agony. The hunger on his face had mesmerised her, the longing in his arms as they wound around her was more than she could bear. His lips on hers were almost too much.

  ‘I don’t think we can be friends,’ he whispered, as his finger sketched the outline of her arm and up to the muscles of her neck, scorched with wanting.

  Her stomach tightened. What did he mean?

  ‘I think we can only be lovers.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flora moaned into his shoulder, unable to believe the dream was real. Lovers was so much better than friends.

  ‘And I think we should start right now.’

  Tossing her bra aside, he covered her body with his. His dark eyes smouldered as they delved into the depths of hers. His lips rushed over her skin, scalding and wet, like nothing she’d felt before. His fingers trailed between her breasts and down her stomach. Sighing, she felt herself begin to drown in the pleasure as his hand skated along her thigh, edging away her skirt and knickers. His mouth and tongue tickled her ever so gently, licking and sucking until the tingling on her skin increased with every moment, and shot around her body, like sparks of electricity coursing through her. The ring of gold on his chest scratched at her side as he moved, causing her to arch with desire. Then, he was inside her and she could feel the surge of power as he thrust, the pleasure of release, the desire to have him again.