Teach Me Dirty (27 page)

Miss Monkton grabbed Mark after the panto, and Lizzie grabbed me.

“Urgh,” she said. “Crappy show. Good set though, great painting, Hels Bells.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

She pulled me to the side of the aisle as everyone filed out. “Sorry I haven’t been too chatty, it’s just, things with Scottie, they’ve been so hot. You know how it is.”

My tummy niggled at the distance between us. “Sure. I know how it is.”

She grinned. “But I’m cool now, for the holidays. I’ve got so many plans for us. I thought we could maybe go hang out in Hereford, go shopping. We haven’t done that in ages. Maybe catch a couple of films, too, head out for a pizza.” She squeezed my hand. “Got Christmas money through early from Nan, so it’ll be my treat.”

My heart dropped. “Sounds great, but I, um… I’ve got some plans already… with, um…”

Her eyes flicked away at my words, over towards Mark. I followed her gaze and he was still caught up in Miss Monkton’s monologue. He ran a hand through his hair and his curls bounced against his collar. Gorgeous. He had a Christmas tie on, in reds and greens, and his shirt didn’t even have any paint on it.

Lizzie broke my trance. “You, um, planning on seeing him much, then?”

I took a breath. “As much as I can…”

“So, that’s like a lot, right?”

“I just… I don’t have long, before we go… not really.”

She shrugged. “I guess our BFF bonding time just got a little screwed, then, right?”

“No… I don’t mean…”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Hels. I get it. You want him, and it’s Christmas, and you’re not gonna be around.”

“I will be around…”

She groaned. “You won’t. You totally won’t.”

And I felt so bad. “I’ll make time…”

“I don’t want you to
make
time, Hels. If you want to be there then be there.”

“But you…”

“I’ll survive. I’ve got Scottie, right? Things are really hotting up, too. It’s the real deal.”

I smiled. “It is?”

She nodded. “Totally. He’s crazy about me, have to keep telling him to cool it off, I mean, who wouldn’t be, right?” She grinned.

“Of course he is, you’re amazing.”

“Just hang out with me a bit, yeah? If you want to. I’d like that.”

My heart hurt, with guilt. Lizzie practically lived at ours over Christmas these past few years. Like a piece of the furniture. I took a breath, for myself. She had Scottie.

“Of course I will.”

***

I packed an overnight bag. A proper overnight bag, with a few days’ worth of clothes, and hair products, and my phone charger and everything.

And then I got Dad to drop me at the train station and pretended I was nipping up the line to Oakwall, where Harry Sawbridge lived.

I felt so guilty as I waved Dad away and joined the straggly little crowd on the platform, but that soon disappeared when Mark’s car pulled into the car park. I threw my bag in the back and slipped into my seat and I was beaming.

“Ready?” he said.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”

I gabbled on and on throughout the journey up to his, my mouth running with everything and nothing. He listened and laughed, and smiled, and my stomach rolled over with nerves as he pulled onto the lane up to his. I watched the twinkly lights approach in the distance, and gave a big sigh as he pulled up outside.

“Home sweet home,” he said, then reached in the back for a shopping bag. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“You have?”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s not your Christmas present.”

Christmas present
.

My heart was on fire.

He took my bag from the backseat and I followed him inside, and it was magical. The fire was already burning in the grate, and he’d filled the place with tinsel and fairy lights. And candles. So many candles. He dropped my bag on the sofa, and the shopping in the kitchen, then started lighting them up.

“I haven’t had decorations since Anna. Seemed little point. But now…”

“It’s beautiful.” And it was. It was so beautiful.

Holly and mistletoe hung from the ceiling beams, and there was a real tree in the corner of the dining room, decked out in reds and golds and flashes of white.

And then I noticed the table. It was clear of canvases and laid for two.

“You’re cooking?” I smiled. “For me?”

He beckoned me into the kitchen and rustled in the shopping bag. I laughed as he pulled out the box of potato waffles.

“What the lady wants…”

“I love you, Mr Roberts.”

God, how I loved him.

He fired up the oven, and put the dinner on, chicken breasts and waffles and baked beans on a low heat in the pan, only stopping when my fingers slid around his waist. I pressed myself into his back, breathing in the scent of his shirt, and he twisted, and pulled me under his arm and tipped my face up to his.

“I thought you’d be hungry. It’s been a long day.”

“I am…” I said, and my voice didn’t sound like mine. I took his hand, and guided his fingers to my lips. He swallowed as I sucked his thumb into my mouth.

“Christ, Helen. It drives me crazy when you do that.”

I smiled as I nipped him, and I felt his breath quicken.

“I’m so hungry, Mr Roberts…”

I dropped to my knees and my heart was racing. I wanted to hide my nerves, wanted to appear confident, but my fingers were dithery, and they fumbled at his belt.

“It’s ok,” he said. “Take your time.”

He was already so hard, and his cock looked so big as it stood before my eyes. I pressed my lips to the shaft, pinning it against his belly and he groaned. I wished I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t want to be a stupid kid anymore, didn’t want to keep being useless at everything. I remembered what he’d shown me as I guided him to my mouth, sucking him in, just a bit, my lips tight and tongue soft. It worked. He took a step backwards until he was pressed back against the worktop and he took my hair in his hands.

“Good girl… fuck, Helen… that’s so nice…”

I found a rhythm, and I kept to it, and this time I didn’t try and force him into my throat. I just enjoyed the taste of him, enjoyed the hardness of him in my mouth, and the way he tensed and pulsed and rocked into my movements.

“Helen, look at me.”

I didn’t even realise I had my eyes closed. His eyes were dark with excitement and they set me alight.

“You are so beautiful, Helen.”

It made my heart soar.

His balls felt heavy in my hand, and the hair tickled my fingers, and I liked it. I liked the way they moved as he rocked his hips, I liked the way he smelled as he held me tight to his belly and asked me to open wide for him.

I liked the way he angled my head and pushed his way into my mouth.

I loved the way it made me feel when he got too excited to be gentle. I loved the way he groaned at the gurgles my mouth was making.

“Good girl… Fuck, Helen, you’re such a good girl…”

I loved being his good girl.

I wrapped my arms around his thighs  and gave my all to him, and he took me that way until his breath was ragged and his legs were tense and I could feel him tighten in my mouth.

“We can stop…” he breathed. “Wait until after…”

I pulled away, and it left a string of saliva between my lips and his cock and it transfixed me. I shook my head.

“I want it now… I want you to come in my mouth… please…”

“You’re sure?”

I didn’t need to answer, just opened wide and stared up at him.

“Then let’s see if we can do this properly this time, shall we?”

He stroked my hair and stroked his cock, and I stayed statue still, watching him play, watching the bulging veins as his cock strained, waiting and wanting, with the nerves fizzing around my belly.

“Get ready, Helen…”

I was ready. More than ready. I gripped his thighs and stretched my mouth as wide as it would go.

He gave a couple of little grunts, and his thighs tightened, and his fingers twisted in my hair and held me still. He pressed his cock to my bottom lip, and it jerked and quivered, and a flood of thick salty cum filled my mouth. It didn’t taste nice in the way that things usually taste nice, but I loved it, loved the feel of it on my tongue. I smiled when he spurted again, and he lost control, pushing his cock between my lips and coming some more.

“Show me,” he said and I opened wide for him and his cum dribbled over the corner of my mouth and the smile on his face made me love him even more.

“Swallow,” he said, and I did, straight down without hesitation and his cock twitched again before my eyes.

“Clean me, Helen.”

I sucked him. I sucked all the cum from him, and I licked him clean.

He thumbed the dribble from my chin into my mouth, and I sucked that, too.

“You’re amazing,” he said, and pulled me to my feet.

I startled as his lips found mine, and he kissed me deep. Kissed me with the taste of his cum still in my mouth, and it felt like love, true love.

“That was wonderful,” he breathed, and the world was full of that wonderful man, and his wonderful touch.

And then the baked beans boiled over.

Mark

The girl was a wonder. A spirited, vivacious little parcel of devilment. It was in her eyes, shining deep, this
need
awakened within. Her sweet little soul was dancing with mine, her toes poking mine under the dining table as I spooned baked beans onto her plate.

I uncorked a bottle of red and she tilted her head from side to side.

“Me and Lizzie usually have it fizzy.”

I choked back a laugh. “This is a fine vintage. I think you’ll like it.” I poured her a glass and she swirled it around and gave it a sniff as though she knew what she was doing.

“Fruity. Smells nice.”

“A great accompaniment for potato waffles, it comes highly recommended.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m loving you, Helen, I’d never mock you.”

Her cheeks blushed red and her lips parted. Magical.

“I’ve never had candlelight waffles before.” She smiled and held up her glass. “Thank you.”

“What are we toasting? Candlelight waffles?” I held up my glass.

“To a beautiful Christmas, Helen and Mark,” she said, and suddenly the girl in her was gone again, and a young woman stared at me through pretty dark eyes.

“I’ll toast to that.”

I’d be a liar if I said the meal was the finest I’d ever tasted. It was bland and processed, and entirely unimaginative, but it was worth it to see the enjoyment on Helen’s face.

“What’s your very favourite food?” she asked.

I had to think. “I’m partial to a really decent calamari. When we go to the seaside, I’ll show you.”

“When we go to the seaside?”

“I imagine you do want to go, yes?”

She dazzled me with a smile. “Which beach?”

“Anywhere you want.” I paused. “And Aberystwyth, of course.”

She took a breath. “You’ll come and visit?”

“If you want me there.”

“You’ll really come?” Her eyes were glistening, and it amazed me. Something so simple yet it seemed to mean so much.

“I’ll really come.”

She reached a hand across the table, and I ran my thumb across her knuckles. And then she whispered, so quietly I could barely hear her. “Come with me... for good.”

I nearly choked on my baked beans. “Sorry?”

She regretted it as soon as the words were out of her mouth, I could tell, she shook her head and pulled a face and went back to her dinner. “That was stupid, forget it.”

“We have a deal remember?”

She nodded. “I know. I remember what I promised. I just… I got carried away.”

I squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t leave here. I’ve grown into this place and it’s grown into me.”

“And Anna…”

I shook my head. “Not just Anna. It’s the soul of the place, the soul of the land here.”

“I understand.”

I hoped so. I took a sip of wine and went for a subject change. “What’s my favourite little artist’s favourite colour?”

“No!” she said. “Don’t even make me. That’s like choosing a favourite kid. Not that I’d know.”

I fixed her in a stare. “Maybe you will know, one day. Do you want kids?”

She shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

She looked away. “On whether they’re yours.”

It sucked the air from my lungs. “Helen…”

She put her cutlery down. “You said to be honest, that I could tell you anything.”

“You can.”

“So, that’s my answer.”

“And it’s a beautiful answer, I’m very flattered.”

“I didn’t say it to flatter you. I said it because it’s true. And you aren’t flattered. You’re scared.”

“Scared?”

She met my eyes. “Your shoulders are stiff, and your jaw, too.”

“And that’s because I’m scared?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe not in the way you assume.”

“Forget it,” she smiled. “It’s another stupid comment. The waffles must be going to my head.”

But I was considering it, and that’s what scared me, not the idea itself, but the fact the idea didn’t seem absurd. I felt ensnared by something out of my control, compelled by some longing stronger than me, stronger than reason and sense and professionalism. It wasn’t loneliness. It wasn’t lust, either. And it wasn’t some fantastical need for escapism, because everything that made my heart pound was all right there, right in front of me.

“I’m not scared that you want that,” I said. “I’m scared because I’m not so sure I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m over twice your age, Helen. The better man in me still wants to see you leave. That better man wants you to disappear into a better future for yourself.”

“Why is that the better man?” Her eyes quizzed me. “What makes the man who wants to leave me, more noble than the man who cooked me waffles even though he doesn’t like them? Both men are kind, both men want me to be happy, no?”

“Yes, Helen, that’s most definitely the case.”

She shrugged. “Then I like the waffle man much better.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You do, do you?”

She nodded. “So do you. You just seem to want to make yourself feel crappy over it.”

“It’s all for you. I don’t want to see you set your ambitions so low.” My breath was harsh. “You should head for the horizon and chase your dreams and never look back.”

Her pretty eyes darkened. “How do you know my ambitions are low, just because you’re in them? Every dream that’s
ever
mattered to me has you in it.” She swigged her wine, and her heel started its tapping. “You don’t understand.
Every
dream.”

“Every dream?”

“I’ve known I wanted you since I was twelve years old.” She looked beyond me to the Christmas tree. “Every place I dreamed of going, you were there. Every future I imagined living, you were there. Every painting I ever displayed in my imagination, I dreamed you would be there, too. Every time I wanted to do well, I imagined you would see me do it. I can’t run far away and chase my dreams, because they are wherever you are. I don’t
want
to paint if you’re not there to see it. I don’t
want
to succeed if you’re not there to be proud. And no matter how big my dreams get, or how high the bar gets set, or how big the stage is, none of it means anything to me unless you’re there, too.”

“Helen…”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that. I get it, I get the
one day you’ll know better
stuff, and I’m done with it. People have been telling me my whole life that I don’t know what I want.
You’ll get over it, it’s only a stupid crush, that’s fantasy, Helen, fantasy. Get your feet on the ground. Do something other than painting, think about boys your own age, think about
real
life.
And they were wrong, because this
is
real life, and I’m here with you, and I’m still painting, and I still want the same things I did all those years ago when I first knew I wanted them, so don’t dismiss this as some flaky thing that I’ll grow out of. Because I won’t.” Her eyes were burning hot. “I know what I want. And I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I would never mean to patronise you that way.”

“Nobody ever means to patronise me that way.” She forked waffle into her mouth, and then she sighed. “Do you think I’ll grow out of art?”

I shook my head. “No. Never.”

“Do you think I’ll change my mind about wanting to be an artist?”

“No, you have talent, Helen. Real artistic talent.”

“I’ve known I wanted to be an artist since forever. I always just knew.”

“I don’t doubt that, Helen.”

“So, I
can
know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I
can’t
know who I want to share it with?”

I smiled. “Point taken.”

Her passion flooded my senses, and it was inspiring.
She
was inspiring.

“How old was Anna when you met her?”

The question hit me in the gut harder than I expected. “Anna was nineteen when I met her.”

“Do you think she’d still want you now, if she was still here?”

I met her eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, then. Maybe
I
know what
I
want, too.” She forked her beans onto her remaining waffle and her hands were shaky. “I can feel how much you loved her, and how talented she was, and how pretty she was.”

“I did love her, and she was talented and beautiful, yes.”

“Did you think
she
should run away and dream bigger?”

The question caught my breath and turned my stomach. “No, Helen, I didn’t think that at all.”

“She was only a year older than I am now.”

I laughed a low laugh. “You’re tying me in knots.
I’m
older than I was when Anna was nineteen, that’s the difference.”

“Are you a different man? Do you want different things?”

I weighed up her question. “No. Not in any way that matters.”

“So, don’t do it, then.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t do what?”

Her face was so sad. “Don’t cast me away because you think it’s the
right
thing to do.” She looked at her plate.

“Helen, look at me.” But she didn’t. I waved my fingers until I had her eye. “I’m right here, decorations and waffles and burnt beans. All of it. I’m all in. We’re well beyond the
right
thing to do.” I held up my hands. “I’ve been reprimanded sufficiently.”

She laughed, but it was nervous. “I didn’t mean to tell you off.”

“You had your points, you made them well. I’m sorry I patronised you. I won’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your waffles.” She nodded at my plate. “They’ll be cold.”

“I like cold waffles.” I smiled.

“Your nose is getting bigger, Pinocchio.”

“It’s not my nose that’s growing, Helen.” I dropped my cutlery as her eyes widened, and my voice lowered in tone. “Have you finished your dinner?”

She scooped up a final little fork of beans, then nodded. “Thank you, it was lovely.”

I reached for her plate and placed it on mine before I pushed them both to the side. And there was us, in the silence, just a flickering candle between us.

“Show me your breasts, Helen.”

She gave a little gasp, and there was the slightest hesitation, but she slipped off her cardigan and pulled her top off over her head. She unhooked her bra as I watched, and let it drop to the floor beside her chair. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and she gasped again and couldn’t take her eyes from the candle as I lifted it from its stand. I idled it between my hands, enjoying the way her gaze followed the flame.

“Sit up straight, put your hands behind your head for me.”

She put her hands behind her head and her beautiful little breasts stood proud. I got to my feet, and she gulped, her breasts rising and falling as I made my way around the table. I reached between her legs and she flinched, but my grip was on the chair, turning it to face me.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

She gave a little whimper as the first splash of wax hit across her breasts. It dripped so beautifully, hardening into a creamy line along the curve of her flesh. And her nipples had hardened too, the sweetest pale pink all puckered and tight. Slowly I decorated her, holding the candle close enough to her skin to make it glow, where the wax would be at its hottest. She squirmed with ragged breaths, but she didn’t move her hands.

“Offer me those sweet tits, Helen. Show me they’re mine.”

And she did. She pulled her shoulders back and stared into my eyes and offered me those gorgeous little tits like a precious gift.