Walking Shadows (15 page)

Giant posters were plastered along one wall of the hostel's rec-room, promoting the latest Safe
Sex campaign aimed at tourists and those who sleep with them. They were not the most subtle things
in the universe; even less so in the current context. Evan and I exchanged sheepish glances as we
walked to the lift past the billiard tables and swarms of excitable backpackers. Like we still
weren't sure if we were really going to do what we were very obviously planning to do.

Evan had paid for a private room rather than a dorm, thank the stars. All bets would have been
off if we'd ended up in a public forum for enlightened Scandinavians.

We stuck with the pretence of me drying off - he gave me a clean shirt and turned his back while
I stripped off my damp top and pulled on the pale blue cotton button-up shirt instead. On the
bedside table I noticed a little bowl of condoms
- compliments of the house, apparently, according to the folded sign next to them with more of the
Safe Sex for Tourists campaign bumph.

"I'm sorry about," he gestured at the room. "I'm on a budget and I wasn't
expecting to have a guest."

If he'd stayed in a nice hotel on the off-chance he'd have company I would have been much more
bothered. I told him so.

"You don't think it's, ah, tawdry?"

"I'm reading this as spontaneous, not tacky."

"Spontaneous. Yes." Evan pulled me close.

The kiss was fantastic. The feel of his lean body was too, and his big knobbly-knuckled hands
splayed across my back, one sliding up through my hair, holding my mouth hard against his, the other
down to my backside, holding our hips together even harder.

A tiny bit of my brain gave a final what-do-you-think-you're-doing-young-lady? before it gave up
with a happy sigh. After not only the last two days, but the whole last year, it was intoxicatingly
good to be with someone tall and lovely who liked and wanted me. Someone who knew and understood
about vampires and the dark but didn't need to talk about it. We'd met only met two hours ago, yet
it felt like we knew each other in all the important ways.

The clean shirt I was wearing fell beside my discarded top, followed soon by his shirt, my bra,
shoes, jeans… everything. The bed was, of course, a terrible hostel bed. I can't say that we
noticed anything but each other's taste and touch and voice.

I'd always been with guys my own age before. Evan was wonderfully different; more assured, less
frantic, behaving like the sensuous kisses and lingering touches were a main event all by themselves
instead of merely a necessary prelude. He made me feel like I was beautiful, that I was worth all
the attention.

Evan had a newish scar across his ribs, long and narrow and still faintly pink, indicating months
rather than years since he'd earned it. I ran my fingers along the ridge, then across his back. It
didn't bother me. We all have our scars somewhere, inside or out, and if he didn't mind my body then
I certainly had no problems with any part of his long, slender, muscular physique.

He had an enticing way of gasping and arching his back when I ran my tongue across his nipples
and my blunt fingernails against the inside of his thigh. I liked the way his large hands felt
sliding along my hip, over my breasts, cupped against the back of my head when he kissed me.

The time arrived for frantic at last, with my legs wrapped around his hips and his mouth hot
against my throat. I wasn't quite with him - almost but not quite. After a moment to catch his
breath - made longer when he kept kissing my neck and collarbone and cheeks and forehead - he
shifted alongside me, one long leg draped over mine. He slid one hand over my belly and thighs, and
then between my legs.

It wasn't like my ex then, either, half irritated that I'd failed to cross the finish line with
him and rubbing so firmly that it felt like he thought if he pushed hard enough a buzzer would go
off and he'd win a prize. This was slow and sexy, still main event, still wonderful.

Afterwards, I might have felt embarrassed about my surprisingly vocal enthusiasm, if Evan hadn't
been grinning at me like the smuggest cat who'd caught the tastiest canary on the whole damned
planet. I laughed breathlessly instead.

More kissing. Then he spooned behind me with his arms wrapped around me, hands linked with mine.
I snuggled against him with a contented sigh. Maybe it was older men. Maybe it was just Evan.

I wondered if I should tell him that was the best sex I'd ever had in my life.

He was stroking my forearm with his thumb, dropping kisses onto the back of my neck. I reached
back to run my hand along his thigh.

"I don't usually do this, you know," I said at last.

"Nor me," said Evan, "I'm a bit surprised at myself."

The sound of his voice was lovely and I wanted to keep hearing it. "Do you surprise yourself
often?"

"Sadly, no. Though there was this one time, in Berlin, in 1989 when the Wall came down. I
ended up on top of that wall with a friend of mine, chipping at that damned concrete with a
penknife. There's no describing the atmosphere. We felt like anything could happen. The world was
changing in front of our eyes."

"Yeah, I saw that on TV," I said. "My dad had been there for a tennis tournament
the previous year, so I took his trophy to school next day for show and tell."

Evan's expression, I soon realised, wasn't
mock
horror. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four." Or I would be soon, so it totally counted.

"I, I thought you were older."

"I'm well legal." I prodded him in the ribs. "How about you?"

"Ah. Forty."

More than I'd thought, but not by much. "You're legal too then."

"I suppose I am at that."

"You're not regretting me already, are you?" The moment the words were out I held my
breath, afraid it could be true.

"Oh, certainly not." Evan shifted down the bed to kiss
my arm, then lower still to kiss my bare hip. I smoothed my hand over his short hair, pausing to
fondle his earlobe, then continued running my hands over his triceps and across his back.

He smiled at me and nipped my thigh. So I tickled him. Things got sillier from there. At one
point I was fending him off with a pillow until, with a slither of poorly tucked-in sheets, Evan
slid right off the bed and onto the floor with a startled 'oof!' I heaved myself across the mattress
to look at him in the tangle of bedding on the floor.

"You okay?"

"For a man of maturing years who just fell on his bare arse, I'm doing very well."

"I could kiss it better for you."

"I bet you could."

"Here." I wriggled further across until, half off the bed, I leaned down and blew a
raspberry on his belly. He grabbed me and wrestled me the rest of the way onto the floor while I
laughed even harder.

I stopped giggling long enough to catch him looking at me like I was made of gold dust. "I
like it that you laugh so much," he said.

"You're not all worried that I'm not taking you seriously enough?"

"Not at all. I'm delighted that you fail to take me seriously at all. Sex should not be
solemn."

"Good sex is far too much fun to be solemn." I was mostly in his lap now. "Oh,
lookee here, we've awoken the sleeping giant!"

Evan roared with gratified laughter and tumbled me to the floor beneath him for a while before
the hard surface sent us back to the more forgiving mattress.

Afterwards, sated and relaxed, we fell briefly asleep. I felt shielded. I felt happy.

I never learn.

I woke from the mini-sleep feeling remarkably unabashed about this wild fling.
Certainly it was too soon to call it anything else. One thing was clear - the old cliché
about sex being a life-affirming act was utterly true. Death, undeath, all of it, vanished in the
now of gasping breaths and skin on skin.

But after the
now
comes another now, and another, and before long we're thinking ahead of
the now to
next
and
later
and
tomorrow
.

Not that it made me sad. The sun, angling warm again through the high window, fell across our
bodies and made me feel contented and strong.
Next
was Kate and Oscar coming home. Then I
could deal with the darker stuff - the threat to Gary.

Evan moved sleepily beside me as I stretched. Gently, I untangled myself from his arms and went
into the bathroom tucked into the corner of his plain room. I chucked the used condoms in the bin
there, went to the loo, then showered. If Evan heard me and wanted to join me, that was fine
too.

He didn't. I heard voices while I was drying so I knew he was awake. The exchange was too quiet
for me to hear anything except snatches, and then only Evan's distinctive low voice.

"There's enough for now," he said at one point, and then, "I'm seeing the agent
first thing tomorrow, I'll get the keys then." Finally, sounding cranky, he said: "That's
none of your business." Both voices became inaudibly low, so I waited until the sounds ceased
before cautiously opening the bathroom door.

"Is it all right to come out now?"

Evan's troubled expression vanished in a smile. "Relatively speaking. No-one here but us
chemists." He had pulled his jeans back on and was standing by the window, shirtless, pale and
lovely.

And of all things,
this
was when I felt shy.

"Um. Can you pass me my…?"

He'd come over all awkward too, scooping up my knickers and bra and handing them to me before
making another pass to collect my jeans and shirt. "Here you go." I dressed in the
bathroom then came out to look for my shoes.

"Who was that?"

"When?"

"A minute ago. I heard voices."

Evan frowned. "Oh, my cousin. We're travelling together."

He didn't sound like he wanted to talk about it. I remembered the irritated comment I'd overheard
and decided not to pursue it. I wasn't ready for this warm, fuzzy feeling to go away yet.

Evan busied himself with stacking our few dishes. "I'd really like to spend the afternoon
with you, Lissa, but I made an arrangement with my cousin."

"That's fine."

"No it isn't." He placed his hands on my waist. "I want to spend more time with
you. Today. Right now. But I can't."

I stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "Seriously. It's fine." And seriously, it was.
"You're not leaving the country yet, are you?"

"Not for a while." The skin around his eyes creased with amusement. "What are you
doing tomorrow?"

"Working, alas," I told him. "Well, not really alas. I love my job."
Reluctantly I moved away from his hands to swoop my bag off the floor. I fished around for my pen
and notepad and wrote down my mobile number. "In case you're at a loose end. Call and we can
meet up. Though you'll probably be sightseeing." I tore the page out and handed it to him.

"No, no," he protested, folding the paper and sliding it into his wallet, "I'll
call, I prom…"

"Don't!" I blurted, startling us both with the vehemence of the interruption. I tried a
less hyper approach. "That'll lead to all sorts of expectations and then if you don't call I'll
be all glumface and I don't want to spoil today. I like you. I had fun. It's okay if this is all
there is. I'd love to see you again, if you want to, but don't promise."

"All right." He fished a card out of his wallet, flipped it over and borrowed my pen to
scribble a number on the back. "That's the number I'm using. In case you have to get in
touch." He tucked the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans while I slipped the card into
the flyleaf of the book in my bag.

We came together again for a quick kiss, then a much longer one.

"I really do want to see more of you," he said at length.

"Good."

We dithered a bit more around goodbye. He picked his shirt up from the floor - the shirt I had
been wearing earlier - slipped it on, and was tucking it in when I gave him a final farewell peck on
the cheek and departed.

On the way home on the tram, the person sitting opposite me gave me a conspiratorial grin. That's
when I realised I was singing 'Cheek to Cheek' under my breath. Good lord.
He'd better
call.

The tram deposited me back in the city and I hummed more Irving Berlin tunes on the way home. The
sight of Gary waiting at the foyer door only inspired a dance step or two as I reached him at the
end of 'Steppin' Out With My Baby'.

"You sound happy."

"That'll be 'cause I am," I told him with a grin.

"It's… I don't see you like that often. It's… you kind of fizz." He furrowed
his brow at me. "Has something happened?"

No way was I getting into the salient parts of this morning's activities. "I went
shopping."

"Oh. I've got something for you."

"I've got some things for you too."

Gary's brow creased in bewilderment. "What for?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Coming up?" In the lift I finally noticed that he
was wearing the T-shirt I'd given him for Christmas, sans the tropical shirt. "Fits you well,
that," I observed.

He smoothed his hands self-consciously over it.

Upstairs I pranced to the sofa and pulled things out of my bag while Gary did the usual shuddery
threshold-crossing. When he had recovered, I showed him the startlingly-studded collar I'd bought
for Oscar, then the things I'd chosen for Kate.

"And these are for you!" I gave him the notepad followed by the drawing. He regarded
both like he'd been hit on the back of the head with a blackjack.

"Don't you like them?"

"Yes. Um. Yeah, I do. Thanks. But, it's, why?" His expression was plaintive.

"I wanted to."

"But yesterday. After Ballarat." It clearly was not computing. Gary fished into a
pocket and pulled out a little parcel of tissue paper. "I found this for you. To apologise. For
yesterday. I remembered Mum had them."

The intrusion of Ballarat and what had happened there brought a shadow into my sunshine.
Momentarily, the memories threatened my mood, but I thought of kissing Evan after the rain, and
sunshine won.