She Needs a Montage!

"Yeah, it's a he." He was trying very hard not to look pleased with himself, but it was cute in his oh-look-I'm-a-knight-in-Youtube-armour-how-very-awkward way. "I talked to the guy at the shop and he said he should be all right to go in with Tarquin...just have to keep an eye."

I slid my hand beneath the rat's soft belly and brought him up to my chest. He was a wriggly ball of nerves and I could feel his little heart beating, but still...so cute. So cute!

"I've already named him," said Linc. "I hope that's ok."

"Depends what you called him."

"Safety Dance."

"What?" I tried not to giggle; it'd shake the poor thing around. "What the hell?"

"Because he can dance if he wants to. He can leave his friends behind." He came up behind me and his chin brushed the top of my head. "That's pretty much what happened in the shop; he wouldn't stop prancing about...and then he was on his way here."

"Very poetic," I grinned. "Hello...Safey."

I lowered the baby rat back into his box; I needed to clean all of Bruce's scent out of the cage before I introduced him to Tarquin.

"So. Saturday," said Linc.

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

"I...um. I wondered if you wanted to do something. You know, rescue you from the rampant shagging that's probably going to go on."

"When you put it like that," I laughed. "What were you thinking of? You're not actually suggesting that we go to yours, are you?"

"Would that be bad?"

None of us have ever been to Linc's flat. It's like our own personal folklore; we never had any reason to go, and then it turned into something of a joke. Linc lives in a tent...in a monastery...with his lesbian aunts...

"No, just...I'll never live it down," I said.

"I could cook something. I do cook stuff." He cocked his head. "We could watch a film."

I folded my arms; why had I gone all coy?

"Ok. Ok then. What should I bring?"

"Dessert," he grinned, "the gooier, the better."

"What are you talking about?" Tom demanded, his key still dangling in the lock. "Sounds filthy."

"I'm going to Linc's flat tomorrow," I announced. "With pudding."

Tom glanced between the pair of us and narrowed his eyes.

"Are you two shagging?"

I don't know which one of us blushed harder, but the room was suddenly like a furnace and his words were steam pouring off the coals.

"No!" we said in unison.

Tom groaned in disgust.

"I give it a week, tops."

****

Sleep did not come easily that night; when the dawn seeped beneath my curtains, it was unwelcome and prickly.

There was the ever-present spectre of Craig the Vile Betrayer and his third-rate Whore of Babylon. I still wasn't sure what to do about that, or what to feel other than...floaty in a lost, empty way.

I did my best to feel lonely too, but I'd moved the rat cage into my bedroom to make sure that Tarquin didn't claw Safey's eyes out in the night. On the plus side, they got on amazingly and had a proper, squawky little gay rat party. On the downside, I could see what Tom meant about being kept awake. (Beats listening to Olly and Chan, mind).

Work could not be avoided again. I briefly considered a "purging" breakfast of Jägermeister but one sniff put me off. I had Rice Crispies instead.

When I got in, Mila looked me up and down and poured me a strong coffee.

"Go on," she sighed. "What's happened now?"

"He's got a new girlfriend. Already," I mumbled.

She tutted.

"Already, eh."

She didn't say anything else, and I was immensely grateful.

I had another appointment with Keith and Elizabeth that morning, and I managed to get through it without wishing seven plagues of STDs on them every time she wiped a crumb from his mouth, or they both laughed together. It was the little things that got me; the echoes of an intimacy I'd lost and could never piece back together again. After seeing Craig with her in that pub, the shards were too small.

While I was waiting for them to choose a design, my phone lit up with a text.

Pasta ok tonite? Linc

I found myself smiling as I typed back.

Anything without broccoli!

Whats 4 pudding then? he replied.

Brownies x

My phone vibrated again.

Ill b telling Tom thats an anal sex reference

"Miss Frost? I think we've chosen," said Elizabeth.

My cheeks were still flushed as I hurried over. Keith pointed to a three tiered concoction with butterflies made of Belgian chocolate.

"Ooh. Very nice," I breathed. "I have loads of fun making the butterflies, you know. We pipe them out in really soft chocolate and add the details with pins..."

"It just looks so yummy," Elizabeth laughed. "Don't you think so, lover?"

"Whatever you say." Keith patted her on the arm and shot me a knowing look. "I'm more of a cheeseboard kind of guy."

"The excellent thing about this cake is that it doubles as a dessert for your reception," I said, "so it's a bit of a cost-saver, too."

"Whatever. It looks delicious. Can we get the butterflies in white chocolate and butterscotch, as well?"

I tugged out the order book from beneath the desk.

"Sounds like a plan."

By lunch time, I had all the paperwork signed and ready to go. There was a glow of satisfaction in it and I can't tell you how relieved I was, that I could feel it beneath the crappy McCrappishness of recent days.

"Bailey?" Mila swept the door open, her face pinched. "That Craig is asking for you at the counter."

I dropped my pen and it landed with a dull thud on the carpet.

"No way."

"Yes way." She straightened her apron in the way she always did when she felt awkward. "It's lunchtime...by all means, go and talk to him, but please don't have a tiff in the shop."

"Um." I placed the pen back on the desk slowly. I wasn't sure what I was going to do; just going out there and looking at him again seemed an exhausting idea.

Get yourself together. Game face. Tekken face!

Ok.

Craig was leaning against the cupcake counter in his work suit. Even in the refracted sunlight, he looked tanned and Mediterranean and, ugh...handsome.

"Hey." He jerked up straight. "Bailey."

"You haven't forgotten my name, then." There was an acidic edge to my voice that I don't think either of us was expecting.

"Of course not...look. Can we go round to the park?" He nodded towards the door. "I need to explain a few things to you."

"Yep, you do." Thud thud thud. I'm not old enough or fat enough for a heart attack, right? "I'll get my coat."

It was the first time ever that Craig and I had left the cake shop together without holding hands. It was surreal. I felt like should be able to just lean over, press my palm into his -- where it belonged, didn't it? -- not stand this ridiculously measured distance away. We spent the two minutes' walk to the park in a haze of unwieldy pedestrians and heavy, unspoken words.

Finally, we found our usual bench and it creaked as we sank back on to it.

I couldn't look at him.

"Go on then," I said. "Do your explaining."

"I'm sorry that you had to find out about me and Samantha like that." He sighed. "I should have been honest with you last week, Bails."

"Yes. You should."

"The truth is...we met through work, a couple of months ago. There was just something there, between us, I --"

Oh God. I'm really not sure I want to hear this.

Look at the turf, look at the turf.

"Did you cheat on me?" I croaked.

Silence. Craig swallowed. It seemed like hours melted into themselves before he opened his mouth.

"Yes."

Deep breath. Aaaand another. Look at the turf.

"For how long?"

"About two months."

I couldn't see him cringing, but I could hear it.

Two months. Two months, he was fucking me around.

"You shit," I whispered.

The tears were surprisingly cold on my cheeks.

"I was trying to spare you this --"

"No, you weren't -- you were trying to spare yourself," I spat.

"Bailey, please -- "

"No. No please." I snapped round to look at his shameful, pitiful, cowardly wince. "You...you tosspot wank-bastard fucktarded nonce captain!"

At that moment, a couple of pensioners walked past with a cocker spaniel and their mouths dropped open like their tongues were bowling balls.

"That...that was impressive," he said finally.

"You're impressive. Impressively a twat." I put my face in my hands. "I can't believe you lead me on for two bloody months. You let me go on holiday thinking that we'd come back engaged -- "

"I know, all right? I know what I did wrong." He tugged at his hair. "I just...I'm so sorry, Bailey. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. A lot of good that does now." I kicked at a stone in the grass and it went sailing into the river, skidding across the surface and splitting it open. "I bet you make the effort for her."

"I don't know what you mean," he snorted.

"In bed." Dude. I'm on a roll. "I bet you last longer than five bloody minutes with Samantha."

Craig turned the brightest shade of beetroot I've ever seen on a man (well...on a man's face).

"Christ, Bails. That's low."

"That's low? I'm low?" The laughter spluttered from me in jagged chunks. "You have no fucking idea, do you?"

The ground was suddenly a lot further away.

I'm standing up, I'm ditching his ass! Hell yeah!

"Where are you going?" he called.

I glanced back over my shoulder -- he was still a jaunty shade of plum.

"Away from you. Have a nice life." Wait, wait. I turned. "Oh, and I faked it. Every single time!" I bellowed across the park.

Craig twisted away and pretended not to know me.

As I trotted out, I almost went smack-bang into Samantha. She glared at me from beneath about seven layers of mascara and I leered back triumphantly.

"Every. Single. Time."

****

Confession time: yes, I was a bad-ass at the park. I was the Jin Kazama of Uncomfortable Truths. I also spent the afternoon sobbing over the sugar craft swans I was making, and it was a relief when five o'clock rolled around so I could sort myself out with a cold shower.

Three hours later, I was on Linc's doorstep with an inappropriate amount of cleavage on show, and I wasn't entirely sure why.

I also couldn't decide what made me more nervous: the aftershock of the day's adrenaline still curdling in my veins, or the fact that I was about to see Linc's mythical flat.

I rang the doorbell. It was a very normal doorbell -- no Phantom of the Opera, no Super Mario theme. Hmm.

"Me answering the door to you, huh," he said, half-smiling. "Weird role reversal."

I propped myself up on one arm against the frame.

"I should probably linger here for a minute and wiggle my eyebrows then, mmm?"

"Or you could give me the brownies and I'll see you on Monday."

"That's just mean."

He stood aside, gesturing, and I crossed the threshold into...drum roll...Linc's flat!

I heard Olly's voice, then: I want regular updates by phone. Wait, no -- a video tour. I bet he's got a blow up doll. Or a blow up sheep. Or a real sheep, a dead one --

"Are you coming in, or what?" said Linc.

"Of course." I draped my coat over the wire stand (which looked suspiciously civilised) and followed him into the sitting room.

I was all prepared to start my spoof voiceover, but --

"Candles," I managed.

He shrugged in the milky light.

"That's what they're called, yeah."

There must have been a hundred tea lights dotted about the little room; across the fireplace, along the bookshelves, on the coffee table. Four surrounded an antique globe.

"Just to confirm," I said, "you don't always have the place tarted up like this?"

He laughed.

"Believe it or not, it generally is this tidy. The candles, though...those are for you."

"Like, a joke?"

"No."

I put the brownies down on the coffee table and wondered whether it was safe to look at him yet. I'm not sure why the idea felt dangerous; it just did.

"Anyone would think that you were trying to seduce me, Linc." I was talking to the carpet.

"I think...I think maybe I am." He nudged my shoulder gently. "Is that ok? If it's not --"

"Craig came to see me today," I croaked. "At work. We talked about a lot of stuff."

"Oh." He gulped.

"I kind of got a new perspective on things."

"I can put the lights on, if this is as inappropriate as it seems like --"

"No!" I lunged at him before he could flip the switch and landed against his chest with a dull thud. "That's not -- "

"You didn't make up with him?"

"Oh Gosh. No." I swiped my cheek with the back of my hand. "It's just, if you put the light on, you'll see..."

"Bails. You retard." He wrapped his arms round me then and there was nothing experimental about it, not like his words. My hands slid up to his shoulders in the slow mash. "Why're you crying?"

"'Cause you're being so nice to me. All this. He never did anything like this..."

Now Linc's forehead melted against mine.

"Yeah, but he's...what did Olly say? A tosspot wank-bastard..."

"...fucktarded nonce captain." I wiped my eyes again and my fingers brushed his cheeks; they were so close, and they felt so warm. "Trust me -- that's pretty accurate."

"Well." He swallowed. "I think I'd accurately like to kiss you, now."

Silence. The air between us seemed to swell until the words on my tongue burst.

"Go on, then."

Have you ever tried to kiss somebody when you're both grinning like idiots? The taste of his breath -- cool, earthy -- hit me first, then his lips, smooth and firm. We eased back until I was straining against the wall and he was stooping, breaching our difference in height to coil his tongue around mine. He finished with a slow lick of my collar bone and a satisfied, excited beam.

"Why didn't you do that to me ages ago?" I said. "Are you just taking advantage because I'm all vulnerable?"

He inhaled against my neck.

"Because it took this long to grow some balls. And...possibly."

"Oh. Ok then." Another kiss; slow, delighted. "I approve."

"So...shall I go cook?"

I glanced around at the dancing lights and the tall chunk of man-flesh that was apparently now mine. Mi-hi-hine.

"I'm not very hungry."

"Oh, thank fuck for that," he laughed. "Me either."

I can't remember quite how it happened but we were suddenly on the floor, squirming on top of his sheepskin rug. I was on my back and he was beside me, over me...everything. I kept finding new spots on his neck that I hadn't kissed or licked or bitten, and I found he smelled different -- and wonderful -- everywhere. His hair had that sharp, salty air of the sea in the summer, and his skin was softer, sweeter. When his palms splayed across my breasts, I moaned against his mouth.

"I thought you weren't a noisy girl," he teased.

"I didn't mean to be." I'm blushing. Again. Am I fourteen?!

"No...no. I like it. Bailey." He grazed his teeth along my bottom lip. "I want to do that thing for you."

"The thing..?"

"You know." His voice dropped, all low and breathy in my ear. "I want to make you come."

"Oh." Oh oh oh.

"I mean...we don't have to do anything, and I understand, you know, with Craig..."

Oh yeah. Him.

"I feel like I want this. I mean, other stuff...emotional stuff, it's there but..." I tugged at his collar gently. "I want this. I want you...I just don't want you to be disappointed."

"I won't, I won't." He pressed his face against the swell of my breasts and kissed a fizzy path to my mouth again. "Look at it like this, ok? I'll do whatever you want, for as long as it feels good. I'm your willing slave."

"Now there's a risky thing to say," I giggled.

"I mean it. I trust you."

Oh, oh.

It's not that I never noticed that Linc was a bit gorgeous. The thing is, though...none of them have really been beaten by the ugly stick; not him or Olly or Tom. I just got a bit anaesthetised since they'd never come on to me and I never thought I was that much to look at. It's why Craig had so much power. He probably still has a tiny bit.

But now...the way Linc was looking at me sent three quarters of the blood in my body below the hem of my knickers.

I'm panting. He's undressing me with those long, shapely fingers, and I'm panting. In the dark. With candles. This is awesome with a side of fuck-yeah fries. I'm not sure I deserve this, really...

"Hips up," he smiled. Down went my jeans; off came my sandals. I was lying there in my underwear and his fingertips traced the edge.

"I've imagined you like this hundreds of times." He teased my nipple through the purple lace. "Wait...does that sound creepy?"

"Depends. Was there also a midget?"

"You keep the midget talk for when I'm trying to stop...stop myself from coming inside you..."

Ow, those words. We both groaned aloud at them like they were weighed down with blood and magic.

"Take your clothes off, Linc. I want to see you."

"I did promise to do what you said, huh."

I'd seen him almost naked plenty of times; at the swimming pool, on holiday. I knew he had a slender, defined chest. I never took the time to notice how his shoulders broadened his silhouette, though, or how oddly graceful his long legs were.

There was one part of him I'd never seen, but suffice to say...as it nudged at his belly so proudly, it was definitely befitting of a guy his height.

He bent over me on all fours, filling his hands with my hair and kissing me breathless. He unclasped my bra with shocking skill, and then that warm mouth fed slowly on my nipples, each taste eliciting a sigh.

Below that hemline, I tightened like a vice. I know it's a rubbish simile but for every stroke along my breasts, my pussy pulled inward, contracting out again in a sharp, pleasing ache...I don't have words for how good that felt. It wasn't just the sensation, either; my confidence in him was growing. He knows what do, he can do this for me. I can do this for me.

Before long, his fingers moved to my thighs. He started on the outsides, just dappling the tips along in shivery paths as he sucked on my nipples; then the heels of his hands circled inwards, spreading me out and stroking the sensitive skin there. My hips rolled up as they did.

I hadn't realised, before, how much pleasure I could get just from my breasts. Each time his mouth left one peak, the other swelled in cool air and searing anticipation. All the while, the lace of my knickers got stickier and I longed to feel his fingers there. His mouth. His tongue. Jesus.

I'll do whatever you want, for as long as it feels good.

"How long do you have?" I murmured, surprised at the sound of myself.

His reply was muffled by flesh.

"Long enough."

Now the hands massaging my inner thighs crept upward...he was going to play with me. Going to tease. I knew it from the way his eyes glinted in the darkness and the nimble brush of each digit on my skin.

He caressed my pussy through the lace, at first. He stroked the lips, sought out my clit with the pad of his thumb. I knew he could tell how wet I was.

When he sat up, leaving my breasts so neglected, I yelped.

"That's more like it," he grinned.

"Linc...!"

"I'm going to touch you...lots of ways...and I want to know exactly how it feels." He pulled at the gusset of my knickers. "I'm going to make you noisy, babe."

I nodded and closed my eyes; I couldn't watch him.

He used both thumbs to part me, the lace barrier still thin and gluey between us. I whimpered before I could calculate the volume of it,, and again as he opened me. In...and out. And in. My clit took a good, aching stretch with each ministration.

"Good?" he whispered.

Another whimper.

"And this...?" Now he lifted the gusset so it wedged between the bare lips of my pussy; it scraped over the plump flesh there as he lowered and raised it. "Do you have any idea how delicious you look?"