The New Neighbours (40 page)

Behind the bar, Jane banged glasses angrily into the sink. She didn't mind the ragging, the noise, the drinking games, provided they didn't get too out of hand, but she did mind them risking her licence, her livelihood with under-age drinking. She looked across at Chantal who was still standing inside the door, looking most unsteady. “Here, Ben,” she said, “didn't you see that Chantal girl over there? You know she's under age.”

“No, sorry,” Ben lied. “There's such a crowd in tonight.”

“Nor did I,” Jane muttered angrily, “and now look at the state of her!” She sniffed and then said, “Look, Ben, Joe and I'll finish up here. You go now and make sure that child gets home. She lives next to you, don't she?” Ben nodded. “OK, well none of them others is going to look after her, they're all out of their minds. You go and take her home.”

Ben was happy enough to knock off work early, but he didn't want to be responsible for Chantal. He'd seen her in the crowd, but he had turned a blind eye to the odd rum being added to her coke; after all she wasn't his responsibility, and Jill was waiting for him in her car. He nodded to Jane. “I'll see you tomorrow lunchtime then,” he said, and disappeared out through the door before Jane could change her mind.

Outside there was a crowd of students milling about on the street, noisy and laughing, and as he emerged he heard Mad's voice calling, “Party at our place. Come on, everyone invited. Back to the Madhouse. The beer's on my dad!” There was general cheer and people began to move off towards Dartmouth Circle, most of them the usual crowd, but some hangers-on as well. Jane was right; no one was taking any notice of Chantal. She was still holding onto the door post, but Ben was determined it wasn't going to be he who took her home, he had other fish to fry… in Fish Street!

Ben grabbed Dan by the arm as he emerged from the gents. “Hey, Danny,” he said, “take that kid with you. Chantal?” He nodded back to the pub. “Jane in there is furious she's been drinking, and is afraid she won't make it home and the police'll find her.”

“You take her,” Dan said cheerfully. “I'm looking for Mad.”

“Mad's gone on ahead,” Ben told him, “to let everyone in. I can't take her, I've got to go back inside and finish clearing up. Come on, mate, it isn't much to ask, it's hardly out of your way is it? We don't want Joe to lose his licence for allowing under-age drinking, do we?”

“Oh, all right,” Dan turned to Chantal. “Come on kid, let's get you home.”

Ben watched for a moment as Dan took Chantal by the arm, pulling her along the road, and then hurried back round the corner where Jill was waiting patiently for him in the car. He slipped into the passenger seat beside her and gathered her into his arms. As always, her response was immediate, and their kisses were passionate and demanding.

“God, I've missed you,” Ben said when they finally broke apart. “I haven't seen you for over a week.”

“Yes you have,” teased Jill, “you saw me this afternoon.”

“Yeah, across the pitch. Big deal! What were you doing there anyway?”

“Looking for you, of course. I haven't seen you for a week either.” Jill laughed. “So I brought the children to see you play rugby. You looked quite hunky even among all the other hunks.”

“Oh, I did, did I? Come here, woman.”

Jill strained against him, her body beginning to quiver at his touch.

“You taste of wine,” Ben said at last.

Jill giggled. “Not surprised,” she said, “I've had one or three. Feel a bit squiffy.” She twined her arms around him again and put her lips to his ear. “Ben,” she whispered, “it's not very comfortable in here, and rather public, if anyone chose to look in. Let's go somewhere else. Somewhere warmer. Anthony's not at home tonight.”

“Well, we aren't going to your house,” stated Ben firmly.

“No, no. I'm not suggesting that we do.” Jill ran a hand along his thigh, to stroke the bulge in his jeans. “Just saying that I won't be missed if I stay out, that's all.”

“You will be in the morning,” Ben pointed out, trying to ignore her roving hand.

“I'm not shug… shuggesting that I stay all night—” Jill was having trouble with her words and she began to laugh again. “Just that we go somewhere more comfortable now. Let's go to your room.”

“We can't,” Ben replied, “everyone's gone back there.”

Jill snuggled against him. “To your room?”

“No, stupid, to the house!”

“We could shneak in, we could shneak in and lock your door and nobody'd even know we were there.” She continued to stroke him through his jeans, and the bulge under her hand told him that he wanted her as much as she did him. “And I wouldn't have far to go in the morning!” She touched the side of his face delicately with the tip of her tongue and he groaned.

“Come on then, but I'll drive, you're in no state. Come on, change places.” He got out of the car, but Jill insisted on scrambling over from the driver's seat and ended up in a tangle round the gear lever. “I've had too much wine,” she announced, as they disentangled her.

When at last they were ready to drive home, Ben drove very carefully. He had no wish to be stopped by the police; even though he hadn't drunk more than a pint all evening, he wanted no questions asked as to why they were together.

When they reached Dartmouth Circle, Jill said, “Better leave the car on the road.”

“Don't you want to put it in the garage?”

“No, opening the garage door might wake Isabelle. Don't want her to know what time I got back, do we?”

Ben drew the car quietly to a standstill. Jill still felt very squiffy,

“Don't bang the car doors,” she instructed, and when she got out herself she shut the door with elaborate care.

They walked round the Circle, not touching, until they were outside The Madhouse. The front door stood open and light spilled out on to the path. There was no one there, but music was thudding from the open windows of the uncurtained living room above, and the noise of shouts and laughter echoed down the stairs and out into the Circle.

“Come on.” Jill took Ben's hand, and, pulling him behind her she crept on tiptoe through the open door and scuttled down the passage to his room at the back. Once safely inside, Ben turned the key and even before he turned round, Jill was behind him, her arms round his waist, rubbing herself against him as she struggled to undo his belt. The music above them thudded its base notes through the ceiling, but Ben and Jill hardly heard it as they struggled with clothes and shoes and the fact that Jill's legs kept folding up underneath her. At last they were on the bed, naked and entwined, and as Ben began to thrust and thrust again, the only sounds they heard were the sounds of their own coupling.

Chantal hadn't realised at first that the coke tasted funny, and by the time she did, it didn't seem to matter anymore. She didn't feel sick like she had at Mike's New Year's Eve party with the disgusting Oliver, she felt very jolly and bright, and a lot of what she said was witty and made the others laugh. Still by the end of the evening, she found she was a bit woozy. Her head wasn't spinning, but she found it a bit difficult to focus. There had been a dreadful moment when Mrs Hammond had turned up from somewhere, but luckily she hadn't said anything, so that was all right, and then another, when Mrs Short had seen her and blown her top. Still, that had been at the end of the evening and she hadn't actually done anything about Chantal being there. She knew she was much later than she was supposed to be, but she'd just have to hope Mum was asleep when she got in. Mum had been going out to the theatre with some people, but she hadn't expected to be late.

As they all poured out into the cold darkness, Chantal shivered, and waited by the pub door. She had hoped to walk home with Dean, but he seemed to have some bird with him this evening. She didn't particularly fancy Dean, he wasn't her idea of a hunk at all; she much preferred Dan, but she'd regarded Dean as an anchorman, the one who had suggested that she come with them in the first place, and she was pretty fed up that he no longer showed any interest in her, and was already wandering off down the street, his arm casually over Pepper's shoulders. Someone was shouting, “Party at Mad's house. Come on, everyone, party at Mad's,” and Chantal realised that she was going to have to let go of the door post and walk if she wasn't going to be left behind. Then Ben turned up from inside and persuaded Dan to look after her, and the evening took a distinct turn for the better.

At first Dan had just said, “Come on then,” but as she had stumbled behind him, he'd turned round and put his arm round her to give her some support. The whole crowd was streaming towards Dartmouth Circle, but Chantal and Dan were the last. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Ben, he must have gone back into the Dutch to finish clearing up.

As she was still a bit unsteady on her feet, they made fairly slow progress, but then Chantal realised that Dan was no longer towing her along as he had been at first. He still had his arm round her, giving her support, but his hand was very gently squeezing her breast. She could feel his fingers through the material of her coat, and the flat of his palm as his hand moved. It made her catch her breath, and for a moment she stopped walking. His grip on her tightened and he bent his head and kissed her forehead. Chantal didn't look up at him, but she didn't pull away either. Slowly they started to walk again, but all the time Chantal could feel his hand, moving, pressing, fondling, and she found herself wishing that his hand was inside her coat. As they passed a dark shop doorway, Dan paused and then drew her into its shelter.

Dan was surprised himself that he was taking advantage of the opportunity Ben had thrown at him. He fancied Chantal all right, and had from the first moment she had appeared at the Madhouse in her mini skirt and skimpy top, but he wouldn't have done anything about it, made no effort to accept the invitation she seemed to be offering, if she hadn't been handed to him, as it were, on a plate. Now he had his arm round her and could feel her pressing against him, kissing her was just too much of a temptation to resist.

In the sheltering darkness of the doorway, he turned her to face him and murmured, “You are a very beautiful woman, Chantal. Did you know that? And very sexy!”

“Am I?” To her own ears Chantal's voice sounded rather squeaky, but Dan didn't seem to notice. He undid her coat and slipped his hands inside, running them down over both her breasts, which seemed to thrust themselves towards him of their own accord.

“Mmm,” he murmured into her hair, “beautiful.” One hand slid round her back and pulled her towards him, while the other cradled the back of her head, as he began to kiss her.

Chantal felt herself go limp against him. She had never been kissed like this in her life; she wasn't sure what to do, but when his tongue probed her mouth she obediently opened her lips and tasted his tongue with her own. She could feel him moving his hips against her now, and it was the most exciting feeling. Then his hand moved again, sliding down from her breast, over her waist and hips to caress her thigh. All the while, his mouth was roaming hers, so that she could hardly breathe, but she could feel his hand on her thigh, tickling and stroking. And she felt her skin quiver and contract under his touch. He felt it too and laughed even as he was kissing her. With practised dexterity he slid his hand up under her mini skirt and cupped her between the legs, one finger probing and stroking. Chantal tensed, but the teasing finger continued to move deliciously, lazily until with a smooth flick it was inside her tights, inside her panties and moving against her burning skin. She tried to pull away, to catch her breath, but Dan held her firmly against him for another moment of exciting touching. The he released her and she sagged away from him gasping.

“There you are my beautiful baby,” he whispered. “That's how it'll feel, only better, much better.” He threw his arm round her again as they had been before and pulling her out of the doorway said, “Come on, let's go.”

Chantal stumbled along beside him, as they headed on to Dartmouth Circle. She felt completely light-headed. She'd been shocked by what Dan had done, but she hadn't wanted it to stop. She felt slippery between her legs as she walked, and wasn't sure she liked it. His hand was back in its position over her breast, still holding her, still smoothing and squeezing, so that her body was still completely aware of him. When they finally reached Dartmouth Circle, they could hear the music thudding out from the Madhouse. As they approached, Dan saw two people get out of a car parked a little way along the road. Dan paused and pulling Chantal into his arms again, kissed her, but watched what was happening over her head.

It's Ben, he thought, with that woman from over the road. Dirty bugger! Dan watched as the couple slipped into the student house, and then released Chantal, and taking her arm led her across to the party. Chantal held back for a moment, glancing at her own house. It was in darkness, but the garage door stood open and the garage was empty. Mum wasn't home yet, and Annabel must be in bed.

“Well, are you coming or not?” demanded Dan harshly.

Chantal looked up at him, and pulled free. “I don't know,” she said.

“Suit yourself.” Dan moved towards the Madhouse.

“Dan, wait!”

He stopped but didn't turn round. Chantal went up behind him and said, “What about Mad?”

“What about Mad?”

“Well, I mean…” Chantal hesitated, remembering his kisses and the delicious thrill of his hands on her body.

Dan shrugged. “Come to the party or not as you like, it's up it you.”

“I'll come.”

Dan made no comment, but walked in at the front door and Chantal followed him. They went upstairs to the living room where the music was blasting and apart from a few energetic types, most people were crashed out on the chairs with cans of beer in their hands. The air was thick with smoke, and Dan soon detected the sweet smell of pot. He didn't smoke much, but enjoyed the odd spliff.