A SHORT STORY

HUNGRY

Watching the hands on the clock tick slowly round as I spoon out their mashed potato and gravy. Imagining her hands on my body. Needing the feel of her warm breath on my neck. I clear the plates and dish up apple pie and custard.
‘Not hungry?’
‘I ate earlier.’
Stomach churning with a different hunger. Aching; wanting her mouth, her skin, her eyes.
‘Good telly night.’
‘I’m going out, round Annie’s. I said I would help her streak her hair.’
Fingers crossed behind my back. Untruths. We would not be playing hairdressers.
Washing up takes most of the space there is left to fill before it is time.
‘I’m off then. Don’t wait up, we might watch a video. Have a girls night in.’

Tension mounts and my skin begins to prickle. Only four streets over. Past the Red Lion, where this began. A party, we got drunk on tequila slammers. Mellow and happy. A cuddle in the ladies. Annie held me a bit too long, too close.

Something inside me sang.

E-mails the next day. Apologies, Blame the drink but I knew. Had wanted it to go on, wanted her to kiss me, there, in the pub loo. Hang being caught out.

Walking to Annie’s house, thinking, breathing deeply. Must calm down, be cool.

Is this me?

We met at the theatre; she did the lighting for productions. Once, I helped her out, up there in the dark, she leaned close, her hair brushing my shoulder as she showed me the sequences. Did I know then? We talked at half time and started to know each other. Over the last weeks she seemed to be there at every turn.
She lives on her own, happy with her divorce, her independence, she never loved him really.
Married for form’s sake, expected. No kids, just a cat and a bowl full of stupid fish.
She called one Ronnie, after him.
Nearly there.Heart bumping against my shirt. Am I insane, do I want this?

Yes.

‘Hi, I’ve brought some wine. I thought, I need to unwind. Bloody awful day. Kids fighting after school and the dog was ill. That's a nice smell.’
‘It’s patchouli, the oil burner. I’ll get some glasses. Relax; I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to! Sort out some music if you like.’
A pile of CD’s, I choose some soft soul. Amber coloured candles spill light on the honey walls. Annie appears from the kitchen holding two glasses, puts them down, dips a finger in the wine and traces her mouth with it. Her tongue follows, licking the wine.
‘Mmmmmm, good choice. Should go well with the main course.’
Hands me a glass and I down it in one.

‘Annie, I’ve never done this before. We haven’t even spoken about it, I…………’
In one smooth moment she is by me. Holding me, stroking my hair, looking into my eyes.
‘Shhhhhhhhhh. I could tell, in the pub, that you were hungry. Even before, in the theatre. I wanted you but I needed to be sure.’

She leans in and it begins.

Kisses, soft as rose petals, brushing my lips. Her hands on my hips, pulling me close. I am falling; I am flying. Her lips more urgent. Hands on the back of my neck, trapping me to her. Stroking my face, sliding down my arms, nails raking, buttons flying.
She sighs.
‘So beautiful. Look in the mirror. See, all flushed and needy.’
She’s standing behind me. Reaching round, holding my breasts. I lean back, twist my head to find her mouth again while she strokes and pinches, flicking and teasing.
Fingers snaking down my belly. Kneading flesh, seeking, greedy for my secrets.
My eyes are closed, my breath is ragged.
‘Oh little one, Annie wanted this so long. Come and sit down here with me let's slow down. We have all evening.' She fills the glasses and I fill with growing passion.

This stop, this breather, my nerves are screaming.

I take a deep breath and start to pull her t-shirt over her head. Naked underneath, I cannot stop myself from drinking the sight of her. From realising her arousal. Tentative at first I touch, I bow my head to taste. A sigh escapes her and she lifts my head, holds my face in cupped hands.

‘Yes?’

‘Yes.’

I spread the toast, Marmalade for one and Marmite for the other. Tea in one hand, I stir his porridge.
‘How’s the hair?’
‘What?’
‘Annie’s hair, you were going to streak it.’
Imagining her hair, spread out on the white carpet. Her hands gripping my shoulders.
‘Oh, she chickened out, we just had some wine and watched a video.’
‘Nice woman. Shouldn’t be on her own. Can’t you fix her up with someone at the theatre?’
I smile.
‘Maybe’