.
.
.
.Somewhere after midnight.
.
She closed the door to the flat, and shut her eyes. Not quite silence as there was a hum from below as Luigi tried to convince people they needed to go home. The door was solid and cool against her back. In her nostrils remained a smell of something unknown. If she had been a nurse Alex would have recognised the smell of slow death, hot and cloying and distinct with a sour top-note. Her arm came up to her nose and she sniffed the sleeve of her coat; the smell was there too, thick and stagnant. She ripped the coat off and dropped it to the floor. Regrouping herself she left a trail of clothes to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the too hot water stream over her body, powerful darts stabbing at her face, tempting rosacea.
She tried not to think of his face as she had walked away with Keats. 'Guv' She'd been calling him that a lot lately. He was no longer Gene, he was the Guv. Like she was building a wall between them. She couldn't remember the last time they'd been close; when conversation hadn't been a battle of wills, both of them bewildered and defensive, wondering how they had tumbled so far from each other.
It wasn't as if she even completely trusted Jim anyway. He was a means to an end. To get her back to Molly? Maybe it was time to start trusting him; to go for Mr Right for once. All her life she had made the same mistakes, hopelessly attracted to bad boys, and now Gene was turning out to be the baddest of them all.
She towelled herself dry and put on a clean nightshirt; imagining a relationship with Jim as she poured herself a large brandy; concerts, the ballet, fine dining with someone who would know which cutlery to use. Maybe it would turn her life around.
She thought of her mother as she slid between the sheets.
Because I love her and I'm not absolutely sure she knows that.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Mum she mouthed, thinking of all that she had lost.
Her mother came to her in her dreams; a young and serene Caroline with all the hard edges removed. Use your brain Alex she urged, Be careful.
Alex rolled restlessly in the large bed, her mother disappeared and she was suddenly in a strange place under a black and stormy sky, lightening cracking and splitting something unseen in the distance, huge heavy raindrops soaking her, freezing her.
Keats held an umbrella over her, shielding her from the storm, Do we need to talk?
I need a towel she replied.
He produced a crimson towel that wouldn't dry her however hard she rubbed, the crimson dye bled onto her skin everywhere it touched, vermillion blotches on her hands legs and face.
It doesn't work she looked up into his face, his dark eyes.
Rub harder he urged, watching as she began rubbing her skin off and blood mingled with the dye.
It hurts! she wept.
No gain without pain, you know that Alex he sounded unconcerned.
A white light tinted with gold chased the storm and Keats away and she felt a hand on her naked stomach. She had stopped bleeding and the sun was drying her flesh. The hand stayed on her stomach for a few moments and she grew calmer. As her breathing slowed the hand moved away.
Please! she whimpered, put it back.
The hand returned, caressing gently, soothing her while at the same time not being nearly enough. Where there was one hand there was usually another so where was it and why wasn't it on her?
Her arousal was instant and she moved the hand down in a zigzag across her hipbone and onto her pubic hair, opening her legs while firmly guiding the hand in between them.
There was resistance, No! I'd be taking advantage; you'd hate me in the morning.
Gene? Once more she turned sharply in the bed but this time hit something warm and solid. She sighed deeply in her sleep. Uptown girl, downtown man.
Bloody hell! Gene, sounding miles away, was insulted, These ruddy women with such high opinions of themselves.
Alex clutched the hand and put it between her legs again. This time it stayed long enough to feel the moisture it had provoked. But it moved away again tantalisingly.
For heaven's sake! she was getting very cross, why come here if you won't touch me? You can feel what I want so why won't you give it to me?
Because you're asleep…
And you're a figment…
Am I?
Yes, a bloody construct…I was right all along… and I hate you anyway …
I'd better go this isn't …
No!
Settle down then, you tart…
You make me feel like one…
Yeah I'm good at that…
Good at what?
Making people feel the wrong thing…
She turned back over in the bed and the hand stayed on her stomach. Something fleshy and stiff prodded her lower back; she arched into it, pulling the hand from her stomach to her left breast and holding it there.
Stop it he sounded distraught.
Why the hell are you here then?
To comfort you- to comfort me- fuck knows.
I need something stiff inside me…
You'll get it if you don't stop wriggling…
All talk and no action… she increased the pressure, take me from behind…
Knew this was a mistake; me and my big ideas…hellfire woman… lay still!
She moved the hand back down her body, forcing it into the flesh, guiding it between her legs, Stroke me…
She gave a tiny cry as the fingers entered her and stroked her slickness.
You do need something stiff inside you-Christ you're soaking…
I need you…
She felt her body being lifted slightly as an arm went underneath her. She stuck out her arse, pushing it onto his cock.
This is torture… he tried to pull away, having second thoughts.
Just take me you useless lump…
Your pillow talk leaves a lot to be desired…
Put your cock in me now you gorgeous man; is that better?
Oh sod it…you sure?
Yes!
He entered her smoothly, clamping both hands onto her breasts as he began to fuck her. Her nipples were bullet hard under his fingers. Feeling him inside her she clenched her internal muscles to hold him.
Hellfire Bolls- you work out even down there?
Just shut up and fuck me harder…
You'll regret this in the morning…
You'll regret it now if you don't do as you're told…
I love bossy women…
She moved his hand to her clit and his fingers worked on her as he shoved into her with his cock, breathing heavily, the moisture between their bodies creating a rough friction that was not unpleasurable.
And I love men with long fingers and large friendly cocks… she sighed blissfully as he stroked her into earth shattering orgasm. She was vaguely aware of a huge rush of emotion from behind her, of panting, and a strangled sob, and of her name being whispered with tremendous love. She felt content, replete and so, so tired. Her pillow was cool under her cheek. She slept peacefully. The hands disappeared. The cock disappeared. The warm solid mass disappeared. But the white light tinted with a golden glow remained to comfort and protect her.
.
She woke to a harsh winter light in early morning, clutching at the muddle of dreams still loitering in her head. Hells bells- Gene! She had dreamed that they'd had sex. Her eyes widened as she thought of it. She could only remember snatches. She turned in the bed; the unoccupied pillow had an indentation on it. Her fingers reached out and plucked a single pale coloured hair from the pillow; was she going grey or was it a blonde hair?
oxxo