The Hot Floor (7 page)

Even with the dustsheets over everything and the soap swirled over the windowpanes, I knew what she meant. There were windows on every side of the room letting in a diffuse light. While for most retail businesses those large windows might mean lost display space, we made lots of pieces designed to hang with the light behind them, so they were perfect for us. Shannon had planned a rigging of white-painted dowels which we could set at different heights depending on what we’d made, and then hang the pieces off those.

“This floor is going to be the showroom. I think Shannon’s going to man it to begin with, but she’s talking about getting an assistant if things really take off. Don’t think she’ll be able to cope with the traffic noise for too long.” It really was noisy here, the bridge’s steel super-structure somehow magnifying the sound of the cars and lorries rumbling over it. I led the way to the stairs. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Denise was scratching away at the window soap with an acrylic fingernail. “I want to see the view.”

“Come downstairs, then. They haven’t covered the windows on the next floor.”

The top floor of our strange little tower was at street level, but as you went down, you ended up underneath the span of the bridge. This floor had pretty much been completed already, as it was only to be an office with an adjoining break room so it didn’t need the same level of finish as the one above. Rippling reflections from the water below shimmered across the ceiling and the upper halves of the walls. Denise walked from window to window, cooing over the view.

“I can see the swans, look!”

I rolled my eyes. “You can see them all the time out of your windows at home. Unlike mine. All the wildlife I ever get to see is the junkies on their way up to the crack house on Thomas Street.”

Denise pouted. “Poor little princess, locked up in the attic and pining away for her handsome prince.” Her eyes gleamed wickedly. “Or
princ-es
. Tell me something, what are those two really like in bed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turned away from her to try and hide my red face. “Look, you can see our building from here.”

Denise ignored my pointing finger. “Bullshit. You’re not seriously telling me you haven’t been getting it on with those two, are you?”

“Have you heard anything through your ceiling?”

“Nooo… But you know about the bedsprings, so maybe you’ve been doing it somewhere else. Like the sofa, or the shower, or up against the kitchen counter.”

I leant my forehead against the glass in an attempt to cool it down. My fantasies had been in overdrive imagining just those kinds of scenarios, especially now I could set them in an accurate rendition of their flat, dodgy retro furnishings and all. “I wish,” I eventually said. “But they have rules about three-ways. No one they’ll see too much of outside of the sex. That counts me out.”

“Aww, baby, tough break.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather have them as friends, given the choice.”

“Rea-lly?” Denise’s carefully shaped eyebrows shot up incredulously. “I thought men were all meant to be ruled by their little brains.”

“You’ve obviously been hanging out with the wrong blokes.”

I could feel Denise staring at me as I gazed down on the dark green water. She was quiet for an uncharacteristically long time. Next thing I knew, she’d planted a lipstick-scented kiss next to my mouth.

“I don’t think so, sweetie,” she said softly. “Now why don’t you show me the hot floor?”

There wasn’t a huge amount to see in the new studio other than a big, empty space with a bare concrete floor and white-painted stone walls, but Denise rhapsodised over the glass doors leading out onto a deck over the river Avon. We were on the north-facing bank with tall trees to the south, so what with the shade of the bridge and the water outside, it should be as naturally cool as a glass-blowing studio could be for most of the day.

This time of day, though, the late afternoon sunlight slanted in and warmed things up to pretty damn toasty. I had a feeling I’d be heading home just as sweaty from here as I did from the current studio. At least here, though, home was only over the bridge, up to the traffic lights and thirty yards down the London Road. I timed our walk back after locking up the studio. Three minutes door to door, and that included a minute waiting for the lights to change.

Denise opened the front door and strode over to the pigeon holes. “What’s this,” she teased, pulling a familiar-looking handwritten note from my one. “Another love note from upstairs?” She made a kissy face as she handed it over.

“Um.” I scanned the invite to an evening of Kerplunk. “They want me to come up and play Kerplunk later.”

“Is that a euphemism for some kind of bumfoolery?”

“Den!” I sniggered. “You know the game, don’t you? The one with the tube and the sticks and the marbles?” Her face remained blank. “It’s pretty old, but we had it when I was a kid. Rai’s a sucker for just about anything from the seventies.”

“That would explain what he sees in old man Evan, then.”

“He’s only thirty-four.”

Her lips moved as she did the maths. “Yep, he’d have been born in seventy-eight, then. Possibly seventy-seven. So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Evan’s age?” Denise gave me the look, and I sighed. “I’ll turn them down, won’t I? I’ve already said I’m coming over to yours.”

“Damn straight, you are.” Denise said it like she’d never doubted it for a minute, but I could see she was relieved.

Wish I could say I was, as I trudged up the stairs to my flat. I mean, I loved Denise like a sister, but plaiting her hair and painting her toenails was not the stuff a boy’s dreams were made of.

As I reached Rai and Evan’s floor, I heard the insistent bass line of some kind of industrial drum and bass. There’s no way Evan would be playing that with Rai at home. I had been planning to make my excuses on the way down to see Denise later, when I was freshly showered and full of minty goodness, but I figured Evan wouldn’t turn his nose up at the glassblower’s uniform of sweat and soot smudges.

I had to rap pretty hard on the door before it opened, but I was rewarded with a warm smile from the big man himself.

“Ey up, Josh, how’s things? You up for games night tonight?”

“I’m really sorry. I’ve promised Denise an evening with her.”

Evan’s smile crumpled at one edge. “Rai’s gonna be disappointed.” He stretched and took a deep breath. I wondered if he could smell me. I really should have waited for that shower first. “Mind you,” Evan continued, “I’m sure I can think of summat to keep him happy.”

His smile turned downright filthy, and I groaned inside. Just what I needed. An evening spent listening to the two of them getting it on while I plaited and painted and downed enough gin to dull my hearing. Would Denise think it weird if I turned up wearing earplugs?

I’d completed a grand total of five plaits and was working on my sixth, sitting on the sofa with Denise on the floor, by the time the noises began. Rai must have been yelling his head off for us to hear him over Lady Gaga playing at full volume.

“Not again!” Denise twisted her head to scowl up at the ceiling.

“Keep still, will you!”

“Sor-ry.” Denise was still and quiet for a record thirty seconds before she started up again. “You found out what it is they’re doing up there yet?”

“Just having a relationship, same as any other couple.” If you could possibly compare the two of them to anyone else. As far as I was concerned, they were special.

“You know what I mean. In bed. Is it kinky shit, or are they just really noisy?”

“I haven’t asked, and they haven’t said.” That wasn’t strictly true—there had been hints, but nothing I’d want to share with Denise.

“I thought you blokes were always showing each other photos and films of you getting it on.”

“You blokes? You mean gay guys?”

“No, men in general. But it’s harder for straight guys to get girls to pose for pictures.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but if they have a dirty-picture library, they haven’t shown it to me.” I tied off the end of the plait perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. Denise turned round and folded her arms on my bony knees. “Bet you wish they had.”

“Not really.”

Denise grabbed her remote for the stereo and muted the sound.

Oh God, there it was. No pounding springs today, but Rai was gibbering incoherently. I could hear Evan’s voice but not the words, thankfully. Sounded like he was giving commands or something. My dick started to perk up.

I grabbed a cushion and pulled it over my crotch.

“Definitely kinky,” Denise announced.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You’d like to, though, wouldn’t you?”

“No.” Yes.

“Liar!”

How’d she read my thoughts like that? I groaned, and then Evan groaned, and then a sharp sound rang out that could only be a hand slapping down on flesh. Rai whimpered, and another spank shot through the air.

“I don’t think I can listen to this,” I found myself saying.

“You used to enjoy it.”

“Yeah, but that was before they became good friends. It feels kind of… I dunno, seedy maybe. Now that I know them. Does that make sense?”

“Not really. I think you’re just jealous.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, my face heating.

“Which one are you jealous of, though?”

If I was going to be honest… “Both of them.” But jealousy was the wrong word. It was more like a futile longing that squeezed my heart painfully, a deep sorrow that I’d never be able to share in that intimacy they had. And not just the sex, but the kissing and the cosy, comfortable coupledom.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad. Poor baby.” Denise rested her cheek on my knee and gave a sympathetic smile—one of those that seems to turn down at the edges.

“I think I’m going to have to go now. It’s been a long week, and I could do with an early night.”

Denise looked like she was about to argue, but then she nodded. I had been there for two hours already, so it wasn’t like I was ducking out insultingly early. And okay, it was still light outside, but that was summer for you, right?

Of course, it was way too hot and stuffy in my little room to relax, even once I’d stripped naked. I decided to have a soak in the bathtub instead. If I kept the water lukewarm, it would still feel cool in comparison to the overheated air.

I grabbed a fresh pair of boxers, my keys, and looked both ways before scurrying across the landing with my towel wrapped around my waist. It would be beyond mortifying to be caught with my scrawny body on display by Vern and whoever his latest squeeze was, but fortunately, he was still out. As I slid the bathroom door bolt home, I vowed to myself that my next flat would be a proper one, not divided by communal areas.

Technically, this wasn’t a bedsit, as Vern had his own toilet and shower in his flat, but because of the building layout and the plumbing, that’s where my bathroom had to be. A tiny, windowless cube with a struggling ventilation fan, a bare lightbulb and a wonky mirror tile stuck on the wall over the sink. The shower was one of those plastic things that attaches to the taps with a rubber hose, and the shower curtain was a disgrace. I was almost tempted to buy a new one, but who knew how long I’d be staying in this dive?

I supposed I should count myself lucky I even had a bath—albeit a scuffed plastic one in avocado green. It had metal handrails fitted in each side and a textured base, which was an absolute bastard to keep clean. Rai would probably appreciate its retro value, but to me it just looked permanently dirty. Ah well. It kind of went with the peeling vinyl floor tiles—complete with cigarette burns—and the cracked beige wall tiles with the crumbling, mildew-stained grout.

I turned on the taps and tried not to think too hard about what might be going on downstairs. My bathroom was over their bathroom, so unless Rai and Evan decided to move things there, I figured I was safe from overhearing the rest of their shag-fest. Or spank-fest. Maybe a spunk-fest…

As the water slowly filled the bath, I sat down on the toilet seat and leant back. The cistern was cold and clammy, but it cooled my skin, which had to be a good thing. My thoughts swirled back around to those two men.

What I wouldn’t give to run down those stairs and burst in there. I’d dive between them and offer myself up to be… Would I want to be spanked? I’d never tried it before. Never even had any desire to, but Rai had sounded like he was getting off on it. My knob decided it liked the idea and plumped up, although was that a response to the idea of Rai getting spanked, or to the idea of me getting spanked? Hmmm…

The bathtub was only half full, so I stood up and leant one arm on the towel rail. The dodgy floorboard under my foot creaked alarmingly. I swear, that thing was getting worse. I lifted my arm up behind me and took a deep breath.

Thwup.

The sound of my palm hitting my flesh didn’t crack like what I’d heard earlier, and it didn’t really hurt. Was I doing it wrong? Or was it impossible to get the right angle on your own arse?

I tried again with a bit more force.

Slap.