by Julie Caplin
She felt pleasantly weary and oh so relaxed. A day to remember. She would definitely do this again.
‘This was a good thing to do, thanks so much for inviting me,’ Lucy smiled at Hekla. ‘I should make more time for this sort of thing. I ought to have my nails done, get a haircut.’
Hekla whipped out her phone. ‘My sister’s best friend is a hairdresser in Hvolsvöllur.’ She was already busy texting. ‘We can call in on the way back this afternoon.’
Before Lucy could change her mind, it seemed she had an appointment arranged.
‘Thanks,’ she said, leaning back in her chair. ‘And for today. I feel so relaxed and my bruises don’t hurt as much. My shoulders were so knotted.’ A fact she knew thanks to Alex’s careful kneading of the tense muscles there. ‘That water fountain thing has done them wonders.’ She’d spent ages under the torrent of water that poured into one of the pools. ‘They were killing me.’
‘Because you’ve been spending too much time at the computer.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘There’s always so much to do.’
‘And it’s a good place to hide from the film crew.’ Hekla’s stock in trade amused eyebrow shot up again.
‘There is that.’ Lucy tried to be deadpan and failed, as she added, ‘I can’t wait for them to leave.’
‘Not long now. They leave the day after the Icelandic evening.’ Hekla grinned, ‘Which is going to be a huge success. Half of Hvolsvöllur is coming, since you invited the Mayor. Everyone wants to come to the hot ticket. It’s going to be a very busy night and a good evening. You have Freya telling the folklore tales.’
‘Yes, hopefully the camera will be focused on her and not me running around like a lunatic.’
Another frown from Hekla.
‘Crazy person,’ explained Lucy.
‘Ah, yes. That man Bob does seem to like filming you,’ said Hekla thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ added Elin. ‘He’s always watching you. And the Clive man is so irritating. Always talking with too much enthusiasm. He’s such a phony.’
‘But not creepy like Bob.’ Brynja wrinkled her nose. ‘Has he been bothering you?’ she asked with sharp-eyed insight.
Lucy was about to shrug it away but instead nodded grimly, ‘Yes. He knows about the film. He’s been threatening to tell the new owners. He wants me to film a video with him.’
‘Gross,’ said Elin, indignant fury dancing in her eyes.
Hekla mimed being sick.
‘I’ve managed to stay out of his way and they’ll be gone soon. Now who wants coffee?’ Lucy folded her arms over her chest making it clear the subject was closed.
Bob the cameraman was lurking in the corridor when they returned, heading towards the laundry, in a flurry of conversation, snow dusting their hair, carrying bags bulging with their wet costumes and soggy towelling robes.
‘I’ll put them in the wash,’ volunteered Lucy pulling her robe out of her tote bag and steadfastly ignoring Bob. ‘Thanks so much for organising today, Hekla. It was brilliant.’
‘Been somewhere nice ladies?’ he asked.
‘The hot springs at Fontana,’ said Elin, with the sort of polite smile that was reserved for difficult guests.
‘Nice.’ He grinned. ‘All the single ladies.’ He did a brief imitation of Beyoncé sticking her bottom out in a misguided twerking move.
‘Oh Bob,’ Elin lowered her voice in a breathy voice, before saying ‘you bad bad boy,’ and promptly slapping the builders bottom hanging out of the back of his jeans, so hard, a resounding clap echoed down the corridor. Bob’s head shot up, his eyebrows dancing like caterpillars on speed. Startled and unsure, he shot her a wary look realising that the two other girls had circled him, like a pair of worrying hyenas and somehow he was bundled through the door into the laundry.
Now Elin was doing a sultry exaggerated walk round him, feet crossing her legs with that model walking a tightrope gait, stripping off her coat and dropping it the floor.
‘What do you think girls? Do you think we should take this pony out and ride him hard?’
Bob’s eyes bulged, Lucy swallowed back a giggle realising that Brynja had her phone out and was filming the whole scene.
Elin, standing a good few inches taller than him, pressed up against his side, pushing her breasts forward as she ran her fingers over his pudgy face before pinching his ear lobe hard between her fingers as she whispered something in his ear. One hand dropped to below his waistband to cup himself protectively as he turned white.
‘I hear you want to make a video,’ she said loudly.
Bob swallowed, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape.
With one smooth move, Elin pulled off her top.
‘Now you Bob.’
Glassy-eyed and sweaty, he stared at her.
‘Come on, join in the fun,’ said Elin tweaking the bottom of his t-shirt. Slowly he pulled it over his head.
Then Hekla stepped forward and pulled off her top, shameless and statuesque in her balcony bra.
Bob didn’t know where to look, his head bounced back and forth between Hekla and Elin.
‘Your turn again Bob.’ Elin nodded towards his belt buckle.
‘Do you want a hand?’ she asked, making an obscene gesture with her own hand.
Lucy pressed her lips hard together. Elin was ruthless, ignoring the terror beading sweat onto his brow. Already she was tugging at his belt.
‘I can…’ Bob batted her hands away.
‘What are you waiting for?’ She’d undone the buckle and was pulling at his zip.
She and Hekla were crowding him now.
‘I … I … I don’t think this is … is a good idea.’ He wriggled out of reach, hands clutching at his trousers, darting a miserable look at Brynja who was holding up her phone, as if realising with his camera man’s inner vision how ridiculous the tableau must look. Two gorgeous blonde beauties with a short, tubby little man.
‘The thing is Bob,’ said Elin. ‘We think it is.’ She put a hand on her hip and thrust her breasts under his nose.
‘I don’t think I want to,’ he sounded whiny.
‘You don’t want to.’ Elin swung her head around to look at the others, like a tribal leader about to demand a sacrifice.
‘No, I don’t,’ he went to grab at his t-shirt, the flabby folds of flesh concertinaing over his waistband. Like a matador with a cape, Elin swiped it out of reach. ‘Give me that back.’
Lucy felt a touch uncomfortable as Elin baited him.
‘That’s enough.’ She looked at Brynja and nodded.
‘So Bob,’ Lucy stepped forward. ‘Perhaps you know how it feels now, to be at someone else’s mercy. Not very nice is it. It’s not just a bit of fun is it?’
He turned bright red, scrabbling his way into his t-shirt.
‘I didn’t … I was … I was joking about making a video. You must have … you must have misunderstood.’
Hekla, Elin and Brynja had lined up, their arms folded looking at him with icy disdain.
‘Ah, right. I misunderstood. Well that’s fine then,’ said Lucy. ‘I think we understand each other now. But just to be sure, perhaps we can agree that if you show my video, I’ll show yours.’
Bob swallowed hard, nodding vehemently as he backed away towards the door, his eyes shifting every now and then to Elin as if she were a cobra that might strike at any second.
When he reached the door, Elin gave him a feral smile and a cheeky wave and wink.
Depending on how fast he shot down the corridor in his escape, Bob may or may not have heard the shout of laughter that went up exactly five seconds after he’d departed.
Chapter 25
Feeling relaxed, loose and just a little triumphant after the run in with Bob, Lucy pottered around her room, lighting candles with a big smile on her face. Spa days should be compulsory she decided or at least hot tubs, no, make that hot tubs in the snow.
She glanced outside, fat flakes were tumbling down in a whirlwind
of white, bright against the dark night sky, remembering with a quick shiver their icy touch on her skin in the spa pools. Touching the cold glass, she looked up at the blur of feathery snow falling thick and fast, almost mesmerised as they landed in silent defeat, melding seamlessly into the blanket already covering the wooden decking. Her reflection looked ghostly as it hovered against the snowy backdrop but she knew she looked so much better than when she arrived, despite the fine collection of bruises she was sporting.
Dressed in a comfy sweatshirt, leggings and Hekla’s cashmere socks, she’d abandoned the idea of make-up. If she didn’t treat this like a date, then she couldn’t possibly feel disappointed if it didn’t turn out like one. ‘Let’s have dinner tonight,’ wasn’t like a date, was it? A date was going out. Doing something. Alex was looking after her because he felt responsible for her accident and because that was the sort of thing Alex did. Or so she told herself…
But if you were organised, you’d put a bottle of wine in the fridge just in case and nick a couple of nice glasses from the dining room because you never knew when you might need those. And you had a fire because on a night like this, with a snow storm raging outside, it was the obvious thing to do and not necessarily romantic. She eyed the flames dancing like fierce devils in the wood burner and the healthy stack of logs which would last the rest of the evening and forced herself to sit down with a book, not that she read much. With the fire and the snow to look at, she was quite content curled up on the sofa watching the fascinating juxtaposition of fire and ice, her left foot tapping a little every now and then.
‘Dinner is served,’ said Alex, whirling in with a tray when she opened the door to his knock. ‘Wow, this looks nice. That snow is really coming down. I’m glad I don’t have to go anywhere tonight. Clive and co are not happy. They were hoping for more northern lights footage but they’re not likely to see them in this.’
Lucy stepped back surprised by his unexpected info dump. Nervous Alex was kind of cute.
‘Something smells good,’ she said, touching his arm wanting to put him at ease.
‘Phew, I wasn’t sure what you liked.’ He gave her a sheepish smile, and deposited the tray covered in small covered dishes on the coffee table in front of the sofa. ‘So Kristjan has given us little taster dishes of everything on tonight’s menu.’
‘A carpet picnic,’ said Lucy, clapping her hands. ‘And I have wine.’
‘Perfect.’ They exchanged identical grins.
It was easy then; for them to fuss with plates and cutlery, for Alex to open the wine and to sit on the floor facing each other across the coffee table. Easy to make small talk about the food, and not at all cheesy when they fed each other mouthfuls of the different dishes, a salty, fish chowder, sweet, marinated pork, slivers of rare steak, twice cooked chips, roasted tomatoes in balsamic and rosemary, greens tossed in butter and glazed carrots with cumin seeds. OK, it might have been a tiny bit cheesy with the twinkly eye meets and exaggerated care with which they held out their forks.
‘How were the hot springs?’ asked Alex as they took their wine to sit in front of the fire on the sheepskin rug.
‘Hot and cold. A bit weird in the snow but the place was fab. Quite smart and trendy. And the girls were on great form.’ Her eyes suddenly twinkled. ‘We had some very interesting conversations.’
He chinked her glass. ‘I don’t think I want to know. Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ She paused. ‘I told them about the video.’
Alex watched her carefully. ‘And.’
‘They wanted to see it.’
He winced.
She laughed. ‘No, do you know what, it was the best thing. I should have done it a long time ago. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I’ve built it up in my head. They all thought it was bloody hilarious. They don’t have the same hang ups about nudity and sex as we do.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ teased Alex. ‘I’m a proud kilt-wearing Scot.’
She raised both eyebrows hinting at what he might wear beneath his kilt … if anything.
‘And I’m no telling you, Sassenach,’ he said broadening his accent, his eyes darkening with mischief.
‘It’s like a massive load has been lifted. And I didn’t appear as naked on camera as I thought. Chris had some decency. My memory of the night got muddled with the actual footage.’ Although the girl’s complete unabashed approached to nudity today had made her think. There was no way she was never going to be as uninhibited as them, but there was a case for challenging that internal censor, the one suggesting her body was something to be ashamed of. Something that should be covered up and kept in the dark.
‘Ah, well he must be alright then.’ Alex’s words were edged with the sharp touch of what might have been jealousy.
‘I didn’t say I’d forgiven him,’ said Lucy, her cheeks dimpling at him. ‘I feel so much better. One day I might even show it to you.’
‘Only if you want to,’ said Alex, his voice quiet, ‘but I promise you I won’t go searching for it.’
‘I know,’ said Lucy. He didn’t need to tell her that.
‘So now you can tell weasel man, Bob, to take a running jump and impale himself on the nearest iron railing.’
‘That’s a bit bloodthirsty,’ said Lucy. ‘The girls had a much more satisfying solution,’ and she told him what they’d done.
‘Serves him right,’ said Alex when she confessed she felt a little bit sorry for him. ‘He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.’ He pulled her to him and put his arm around her waist easing both of them back against the front of the retro padded leather armchair.
‘Perhaps not but two wrongs don’t make a right. I didn’t take any pleasure humiliating him. Maybe because it was too close to home, I know how it feels. That awful sense of powerless. Knowing that someone else has done something, other people know and you have absolutely no control over the situation. I never want to feel like that again.’
Alex squeezed her waist and dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘I hope you don’t have to.’
Sitting next to him in the golden glow of the fire, comfortably full with food and sipping at her wine, she closed her eyes, feeling the solid warmth of him next to her. Contentment settled and she laid her head on his shoulder, happy to gaze at the somnolent effect of the flames ebbing and flowing around the burning logs hissing and popping in the burner.
She shifted and winced at the twinge in her back.
‘You OK?’ asked Alex. ‘How’s that shoulder?’
‘Just starting to stiffen up again.’ With a wriggle, she twisted left and right, sucking in a sharp breath as her body protested. ‘My muscles hurt more now than they did the first day, but the bruises are starting to ease.’
‘Want me to put some balm on?’
Despite his matter of fact tone, Lucy’s mouth went dry.
‘That would be good.’ As he stood up to retrieve the jar, she turned her back to him.
When he returned, dropping to the floor to sit behind her, she heard the squeak of the thread of the lid on the jar, and smelled the lavender.
She crossed her arms in front of her, pausing. With a deep now or never breath, in one determined fluid move, she pulled her sweatshirt and bra vest top over her head. There was a sharp inhalation behind her as she exposed her bare back. Portentous silence held them in its grip, punctured by the dragon’s hiss of the fire.
Alex’s fingers, butterfly wing soft, skimmed the top of her shoulder blade. She held her breath as he explored every inch of skin with painstaking thoroughness. Her heart hummed when his palm flattened to stroke down her back in a slow, smooth possessive sweep. A pause. His hands slid down her sides, feeling their way, finger to rib, finger to rib, finger to rib, before coming to come to rest on the soft curve of her waist. Holding her with the delicacy reserved for precious china, she felt him lean forward. She stiffened in anticipation, aware of pinpoints of warmth of the fire on her upper back, the outline of his shadow blocking the heat. Then the touch of his
lips, the brush of his hair flopping forward against her back. His mouth moved over her shoulder blade. Soft lips and the tiny tingling abrasive prick of stubble. Mmm, she writhed flexing her shoulders. In response Alex trailed his mouth down, peppering her bruise with tiny fluttery kisses before moving with languid ease across to her spine. Time melted away.
The touch of his tongue. She arched her back in sinuous response. Her skin tingled as, with his mouth on her, he traced his way down.
Fingers tightened on her waist, a subtle pressure that relaxed as soon as his mouth resumed its deliberate exploration of her spine, lips working slowly, slowly down, exploring and tasting every indentation of her spine. She purred, arching her back in a supple curve, inviting Alex to follow. He licked her skin. It jolted her. The warm liquid honey of lust pooled between her legs. She groaned as he slid his hands up her sides, skirting her breasts, running over her shoulders to lift her hair where he pressed a long gentle kiss on the nape of her neck.
She lifted her arms and bundled the hair up on top of her head leaving her hands there. Against the snow and the dark, she could see herself in the glass, breasts proud and pert, the nipples pebbled and almost painful with want. Lifting her chin, her eyes met Alex’s in the reflection shimmering in the window. They stared at each other, his eyes dark and focused, hers womanly and proud, the erotic image imbuing a curious combination of feeling sensual and safe at the same time.
She watched in the reflection as he began to unbutton his white shirt, their eyes never leaving each other’s. With a swallow, she gazed at his broad shoulders and the hair-dusted, brawnier than she’d expected, chest. Everything about Alex on the outside always seemed so smooth and urbane, but this contrast as he shimmied the shirt down his arms made her heart beat a little faster. Oh boy, kill her now, when he pulled her back against his warm, firm chest, his arms wrapping around her, she sighed, all her muscles relaxing. For once she felt feminine, fragile and deliciously protected and she didn’t care one bit. If this was heaven, she was taking it. Bound against him, the hair of one arm teasing the underswell of her breast and the other clasping her possessively around the waist, she felt safe to let go, relinquish all the control for a change.