Substitute (18 page)

He put down the bag on the step and she caught up with him, fiddling with her key. ‘Well, thanks again, you did well,’ said Nathan.

Alexia smiled and looked down shyly, pretending she was searching for her key on the ring. There were only two keys; it was quite a performance.

‘Romy has some competition,’ he joked, the humour strained. They both knew this was difficult.

‘Let me help you with that.’ Nathan took the key ring from her and looked at the two keys. He picked one and put it in the lock. It turned. Right first time – of course, thought Alexia.

He handed her the key ring; as she took it, their fingers touched. She felt it. Did he feel it too? The electricity? The undeniable jolt?

She looked up into his face. Unreadable again. He seemed troubled, but what …? She couldn’t tell. He was so close to her; again so, so close. For a moment, for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he leant towards her … He
was
leaning towards her. She looked in his eyes. Did she see wanting there? Was it her own want she saw in his eyes?

He was inches from her, his head bent. She thought he might – just might … Then he stopped.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Alexia. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

Back down the rollercoaster! She was dismissed, yet again.

He turned away and walked back to his car. Alexia stood and watched as he got in and pulled away down the street. He didn’t look back.

In the flat, Alexia almost deflated onto her bed. She had dropped her case in the hall and dragged herself into her room. It was only midday and she was exhausted. The strain of the last few days had wiped her out and she lay back and closed her eyes.

The memory of Nathan in the car clung to her, like the smell of his aftershave.

She went over their conversation. ‘It’s not
him
I want!’ she’d blurted. Did he know what she meant? She felt her need for him was so clear, so transparent, how he could
not
know?

‘I know where you live,’ he’d said. Did he know because he knew where Romy lived and, by extension, her? Had he looked it up because of the trip? Or did he just wonder where she lived? She could only hope.

She had a few answers after their journey, but so many more questions.

She lay back on the bed, still holding her coat. She was clinging to it like a teddy bear. She had taken a step towards him by being so bold in the car. But had it got her anywhere? Did she know any more about the man, really know? About how he felt, what he felt about her? Did he feel anything? He’d kissed her, and today, just now, she thought he might kiss her again. But then the memory of Blondie crashed in on her fantasy. She remembered the rumpled bed. Blondie got a lot more than a kiss.

She let out a small, frustrated scream and pulled her coat over her head, covering her face as if that would blot out the swirling memories.

She lay there, for how long she didn’t know. But she must have fallen asleep as the next thing she remembered was being shaken gently and a faraway voice.

‘Alexia … Alexia, hey … You with us?’

She opened her eyes to see Romy sitting on the bed.

She mumbled then lifted her head, blinking to try and clear her blurry vision.

‘Well, hello. Welcome home. What the hell did you get up to that you’re sleeping in the middle of the day – or shouldn’t I ask?’

Alexia sat up, completely disorientated.

‘What time is it?’

‘Six-thirty. So – what happened?’

Alexia was groggy.

‘Oh … Give me a minute …’ She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She felt as if she had slept for a year.

‘OK, well, I’ll make you a cup of tea. That should help …’ Romy went to the door. ‘But then I want to hear
all
about it!’

She disappeared into the kitchen and Alexia heard her fill the kettle.

Alexia changed out of her clothes and put on a long nightie and a thin dressing gown. She was so tired she couldn’t bear to wear anything tight. She padded into the living room to find a hot, steaming cup of tea waiting for her.

Romy shouted from the kitchen, ‘I’ve made some casserole, just rice with it.’

‘Great,’ said Alexia, as the realisation hit her that she hadn’t eaten all day.

She took a long swig of the hot tea and felt it bring her slowly back to life as it made its way down.

‘I’ll just have a quick bath before dinner if that’s OK?’

Alexia went into the bathroom and ran the water. The cure for all ills, she thought, remembering how Richard had made her ready for the tub last night.

She spent half an hour in the bath hoping the hot water would shake off the cloak of sleep that hung on her. Sleeping in the day left her feeling drugged. But the lapping of the warm water on her skin made her dream of Nathan even more. She pressed her hand to herself to try and still the ache. She cupped her pussy and squeezed her legs, hoping it would silence the demanding hunger. But she found herself rubbing and tracing her fingers against her clit. ‘Oh stop it!’ she said out loud, and stood up with such speed, she spilled half the bathwater onto the floor. She breathed a heavy, desperate sigh of frustration and anger and grabbed a towel to wipe up the mess. She trudged into the living room.

Another heavy sigh escaped her as Romy came into the room with two large bowls of steaming beef stew with two forks.

‘There you go,’ said Romy, handing her a bowl and cutlery.

They sat on the sofa, and Alexia started to eat. The casserole was delicious as always; Romy was a good cook, her Italian mother had seen to that. But Alexia felt as if she were trying to put rocks in her stomach. She was so tense, so miserable, she could barely swallow.

‘Now I know something’s wrong,’ said Romy. ‘You always like my
Spezzatino di manzo
!’

Romy put down her bowl, picked up Alexia’s teacup, and walked out. Alexia loved the way her friend’s North London accent would suddenly morph into Neapolitan whenever she broke into her mother’s native Italian. She returned seconds later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She poured and gave Alexia a huge glass.

‘Drink!’ It was an order, which Alexia dutifully obeyed.

‘Can we watch some TV, just for a while?’ she asked.

Romy was about to protest – she was still waiting to hear about the trip – but Alexia shot her a pleading glance. She needed to blank out for a bit longer.

Romy picked up the remote and reluctantly switched on the television. They watched a succession of dreary soaps. Alexia wasn’t really concentrating, letting the parade of arguing actors pass in front of her, one programme running into another.

After an hour and a half Romy could wait no longer. She snapped the TV off and sat facing Alexia, her arms folded. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’ Alexia had helped her demolish a bottle of wine and they had started on a second.

Slowly, Alexia relayed most of the events of the weekend to Romy, neglecting to tell her how turned on she’d been at the orgy, or what had passed between her and Tony that morning. That was too painful, and Romy didn’t need to know.

‘Bloody hell! I’ve been on those trips, but I’ve never seen that – well – never been invited … God, the tabloids would have a field day with all that!’

‘You’re telling me!’ said Alexia.

‘So did Tony organise it – the girls – or did he just let them get on with it …?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Surprised he didn’t join in!’

Alexia flushed. She hadn’t told Romy what Tony had done to her as they watched.

‘Alex?’

‘Well, he did try it on …’

‘I bet he did. Weren’t you tempted, even just a little?’

Alexia didn’t know how to answer. ‘It – all happened so fast …’ She took a large gulp of wine.

Romy studied Alexia for a moment. ‘And what about Nathan?’

Alexia stopped drinking.

‘What happened with him? Anything?’

Alexia thought for a moment. ‘I – I don’t know. It’s hard to tell …’

‘Mmm. Well, something happened.’

‘In the car, on the way home … I managed to tell him about the party – the bathroom.’

‘God, you didn’t tell him Tony was with Phillipa, did you? She’ll kill you!’

‘No! I didn’t tell him who it was, just that it wasn’t me.’

‘Well, that must have been a relief. At least he knows now, knows you aren’t Tony’s bit.’

Alexia looked at her friend. ‘Yes,’ she said weakly, ‘he knows now.’

Not Tony’s, thought Alexia. She very nearly was, so very nearly. She still couldn’t get him out of her head. She could still see his eyes in the mirror, feel him pulling her hair, feel the desperate, exquisite pleasure of him smacking her, him playing with her, looking at her intimately, playing with her until he could finally …

‘Yeah, now you might get to fuck him!’

‘What?’ Alexia was shocked.

‘Nathan. You might actually – you know, get off with him.’

Nathan! Of course, they were talking about Nathan. For a horrible moment, she thought Romy was reading her mind. Alexia shivered. Nathan. She needed to be near Nathan.

‘He said if you weren’t well enough to go to work tomorrow then I’d have to go to the tennis bash with him, the one with Jim Brooker,’ she said, desperately hoping her friend would oblige again with a sudden cold.

‘And you would like me to be poorly again?’ asked Romy.

Alexia blushed. Romy laughed.

‘Oh you are so funny … Look at you, you’re as red as a tomato!’

Having Romy point out her tendency to give herself away with maidenly blushes really didn’t help.

‘OK, why not? All in a good cause.’ Romy gave a little fake cough. ‘I think I can feel a relapse coming on … I think I should go to bed …’

Alexia laughed. Romy was a good friend; infuriating at times, but definitely a good friend.

‘Right, well, I definitely am off to bed. I was up most of the night with Nicky. God, he can go like a train … I need a night off!’ She leant over and kissed Alexia’s cheek. ‘You better bag that white whale, Captain Ahab, and quick. I can’t keep taking time off.’

She got up.

‘Where’s Richard?’ asked Alexia, not anxious to be left alone.

‘Oh, he’ll be back soon. He’s been working at the bar tonight. See you in the morning,’

‘Night!’ shouted Alexia as Romy disappeared into her room.

She put on the TV again and watched some American crime drama. She wasn’t really sure which one; they all merged into each other. At least it’s not
Moby Dick
, she thought.

An hour later, she heard the key in the door and Richard came in.

‘Well, hello, little lady!’

She was so pleased to see him. Warm, cuddly, safe Richard. She marvelled at how safe she felt with him. They had been so intimate, and yet he still seemed like just a friend.

He walked up to her and put his arms around her, planting a huge kiss on her mouth. ‘You look beat,’ he said.

‘You could say that,’ Alexia replied, and exhaled.

‘Wanna talk about it?’ he asked.

She shook her head.

‘OK then, no talking …’

‘There’s food in the kitchen,’ said Alexia.

‘Nah, just ate – but I’ll have a glass of that if there’s any left.’

Richard walked into the kitchen and she followed him, nursing her own glass. He poured himself a generous serving. He drank appreciatively.

The light in the kitchen was dim; only the under-cupboard lights were on, and they cast an intimate glow in the small space. There was a lamp on the table and it lit up Alexia’s face as she sat down.

Richard looked at her.

‘Well, who switched the light on?’

‘What? Oh, I think Romy must have …’ She looked at the lamp.

‘Not that,’ said Richard, ‘You!’

Alexia blinked. She didn’t understand him.

‘I don’t know what happened on that trip, or maybe I should say I don’t know
who
happened, but somebody turned a light on inside of you that wasn’t there before.’

Alexia was shocked. Did she look so different? And if she did, why? Because of who? Nathan? Tony? Or the footballers and their Bacchanalian orgy? Perhaps all of them. Perhaps the trip had changed her, woken up the sexual being inside her.

‘Whatever it was, whoever it was, I like it,’ said Richard. ‘Come here.’

He took her by the hand and pulled her to standing. He moved her around so her back was against the units and he could look at her with the light behind her, framing her.

‘Yes siree,’ he said in corny American slang, ‘I sure do like it.’

She felt his hands on her shoulders as he looked deep into her eyes.

‘Not sure you’re gonna need any more lessons.’

Alexia looked at him. He was probably right. She felt a pang of regret.

She moved her hand to his groin and felt he was hard.

‘Well, perhaps just one more?’ she said.

Richard smiled. ‘Sure thing, ma’am.’

He dropped to his knees and pulled up her nightgown. The familiar blonde triangle greeted him, the quivering pink lips nestling, waiting for his attention.

‘I think maybe some revision …’

She heard Richard’s voice, thick and low. She parted her legs for him, and felt the heat of her own wetness as she exposed her pussy to the air.

This feeling of nakedness, of openness, was something she needed. Only weeks ago she would never have dreamt she could be so wanting, so free; now she craved it.

He puckered his lips into a perfect O, then he blew very gently into her curls. She felt the breath dancing on her clit and a delicious tingle ran through the nerves.

‘That tickles!’ She laughed. He laughed with her.

‘Just checking for cobwebs – but it doesn’t look like they’ve had a chance to gather over the past couple o’ days!’

She slapped him gently on the side of the head, and heard him laugh.

‘No, my beautiful little pussy,’ he continued, ‘she’s been getting some attention.’

Alexia’s thoughts flashed back to that morning, of bending over the sink, of Tony’s fingers ramming into her, of him pushing the bullet against her, making her come, then getting ready to fuck her …

Then Nathan. Nathan’s voice in the background. What if he had walked in on them? The thought made her head swirl and she gave a little moan.