Дэвид Муди - Strangers

She moved along the bar, closing the gap he’d opened between them. Eyes locked. He focused on the sounds of her breathing. He could smell her. Almost taste her…

‘I’m staying here tonight,’ he said, screaming at himself to shut up but unable to stay silent. He felt awkward and clumsy… dirty. ‘I’ve got a room upstairs if you want to…’

She didn’t give him chance to finish. She lifted herself up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then again. He felt her arms wrap around him. Then once more, with even more passion this time. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, slightly rough but completely perfect. And he reciprocated, no longer able to hold back. They kissed harder now. Full-on.

Jeremy broke away and glanced around. No one here. No one watching. She took his hand and led him over to the corner of the room. He tripped over a chair, only just managing to stay upright, the sudden unexpected movement almost bringing him to his senses. Almost . He was thinking he should definitely stop this, that this was just about the worst thing he could possibly do on every conceivable level, and yet he couldn’t do anything but go with everything this girl was doing. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.

‘I don’t even know your name,’ he said between kisses, the girl still chewing his bottom lip.

‘Heather,’ she said, pushing him back onto a leather-padded bench behind a table in an alcove. The bench was too narrow and he slid off, crashing onto the floor and sending the table and another couple of chairs flying. He cracked his head back but the pain faded into insignificance compared to what this perfect girl was doing to him. He’d never done anything like this before, not ever. And Christ, it felt so good and so right… inevitable. He fumbled with his fly but she was already there and their fingers fought to be first to unzip him. He could feel her feather-light touch now, and the sensations were almost too much to stand. Lips still locked, limbs still entwined, she pulled out his dripping cock and guided it between her thighs. He grabbed at her jacket and unzipped it, revealing her completely naked body beneath it. Why isn’t she wearing anything? The question rattled around his head for the briefest of moments until he realised he didn’t care. Was this a set up? Something to do with Scott? Some unfathomably crazy local tradition? Was she going to rob him? Frame him? Kill him? No, she was just going to fuck him.

His fully erect cock slipped deep inside her and they fucked harder than he’d ever fucked anyone before.

Scott was still in bed, sleeping off the combined effects of the scotch Jeremy had brought around last night and the absolute fucker of an argument which had continued long after he’d gone. Michelle had almost drunk all her wine and she felt like finishing the last dregs this morning, rather than sober up. Her head was pounding, both as a result of the booze and how hard Scott had hit her this time. He’d slapped her right across the face back-handed, hard enough to loosen a tooth. She swallowed down a bilious sob: a nauseating mix of hangover and fear. Getting back into something resembling the drunken state she’d ended up in last night seemed like a good idea, an easier option. Far easier than dealing with the inevitable aftermath this morning.

Same old routine , she told herself, checking her face in the mirror for marks. Different argument, but the same old routine .

She didn’t know how much longer she could keep repeating this cycle, but equally she didn’t know how to get off. The pressure builds, his behaviour gets worse, then he hurts me . That time he punched her in the face and knocked her out cold, that time he shut her hand in the door, that time he grabbed a handful of hair and smacked her head against the wall… she was his release valve. Hurting her made him feel better. But when he told her he was sorry and begged for forgiveness, she believed him. Every bloody single time she believed him.

She decided she’d enjoy the early morning silence for a short while longer, then go and wake him up for work. He’d be full of apologies and remorse again, no doubt, blame it on the booze or on her or on Jeremy… anyone but himself. It’ll never happen again, I swear , he’d tell her like he always did.

She knew what Scott was. She’d known it for a long time. It still made her laugh that she was the one getting help! Her counsellor had been helping her identify her own faults and start working through them so she could better deal with Scott’s. The pills, the therapy… all necessary because there was a part of her which still wanted this to work. Needed it to work. She had loved Scott to begin with – honestly, genuinely – and maybe she still did. She still believed there was a chance she could get those feelings back despite everything he’d put the family through. This move, this house, this place: all just temporary setbacks. That’s what the therapist had said when she’d told him she was moving away.

The house was in a real bloody state. An absolute bloody pigsty. It pissed her off how it was all left to her again. The division of labour in this family was so bloody unfair. She gave, they all took. No, wait… that was unfair. The girls helped when they could, regularly looking after George so she could get on with everything else. This morning, though, this kitchen seemed to perfectly sum up hers and Scott’s relationship. She worked hard to keep it clean and comfortable, he’d just come along with a sledgehammer and knocked a fucking huge hole in the wall.

Jeremy might have had his faults, but at least he’d tried. He’d been pretty good around the house, actually, and had enjoyed cooking. But even that had caused issues because when she wanted something quick and easy out of a packet to feed two hungry kids, he’d wanted to cook a wholesome three-course meal from scratch. They’d learnt to adapt to each other and everything had become a joint effort. Shame, then, that the spark had been snuffed out somewhere along the way. They’d ended up more like brother and sister than lovers. Looking at him last night, she struggled to remember what she’d ever found attractive about him.

It’s got to be me. It must be something I do. I must be the one who always messes it up. I never give them what they want. Jeremy wasn’t happy, Scott’s never happy, the kids are always complaining… it must be me.

She’d started around the house too fast and too early this morning, and Michelle had already peaked. She’d been up for less than an hour, but she was ready for bed again. I’d love to spend the whole bloody day in bed , she thought. Let them fend for themselves .

There was a pounding noise outside, and it wasn’t helping her head. It sounded like a helicopter, hovering over Thussock in the same way the motorway police used to buzz around the M42 and M5 back home near Redditch. This morning it was a constant, irritating, migraine-inducing noise which bored into her brain and refused to go away. She hoped it wouldn’t wake the others. She walked around the ground floor of the house, looking out of all the windows, seeing if she could spot it.

She was staring out of the kitchen window, looking up into the blue sky overhead, when Jeremy appeared at the glass. She jumped back with surprise and cursed him as she tried to catch her breath and calm her nerves. What the hell was he thinking, creeping up on her like that? And what was he doing here anyway? Christ, Scott would go mental if he caught him. He’d arranged to see the girls today, but not until later. She marched outside to deal with him.

‘You scared the crap out of me, Jeremy. What the hell are you doing?’ He just looked at her. ‘We agreed you’d pick the girls up after school, didn’t we?’