Grandmother had always been a bit… well, eccentric. Victoria thought she was crazy. Then, again, my posh and proper sister thought I was crazy as well. Myself? I thought she was kind of cool. I should mention that she wasn’t always a pleasant woman. Daddy and Aunt Dianne had often spoke of the pranks she used to play on them as children, many of them mean-spirited. Still, she and I had always gotten on. Perhaps I’d just been too young and naïve to see the stories she delighted in telling me for what they really were. Lies. Oh, but such wonderful lies, ones that she’d insisted were true tales of things she’d witnessed or experienced herself. I ate them up like candy floss. Even now, my childhood a thing of the past, I remembered most of her stories verbatim. Tales of a strange and wondrous lands that she’d claimed to have visited in her youth.
Or maybe it was just the rebellious streak we had in common.
“You’ve got that look,” Joey said, snapping me back into the present.
Joey Bibb, boyfriend extraordinaire, who had accompanied me all the way from London on a whim when I’d received word that Gran had passed. Of course, typical of my arsehole family, no one had bothered to tell me until three months after the funeral. When I’d asked what was going to happen to all her things, I’d been informed that it was all being sold at an estate sale giving me exactly one weekend to go through whatever had been left behind by my family and see if there was anything I wanted to hang onto. Mostly memories. Maybe a picture or two, if they’d left any. Oh, and some of her books. She’d loved books. One of the guest bedrooms, in fact, had been made into a miniature library, one that I’d spent hours browsing through as a child. Nothing of value, at least monetary value, so I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the family claiming them.
“I thought it would be bigger. Posher, at least,” I mumbled, half to him, half to myself.
Gravel crunched under the tires as we drove carefully up the drive. Weeds had sprung up everywhere. From the looks of things it had been a long time since there’d been anyone to tend to the yard or, for that matter, the house itself.
“Could use a coat of paint,” he said with a slight frown, stopping the rental car near the front porch and turning off the ignition, emphasizing just how quiet it was. All the sounds that seemed like a soundtrack of my life in the city were conspicuously absent giving the place an eerie feel. For the first time I understood the phrase ‘too quiet’.
“Want to look around the outside first or go in?”
“Not sure,” I shrugged, fiddling with a stray lock of purple hair that had been plaguing me ever since Knott’s End. Exasperatedly I tucked it back behind one ear before exiting the vehicle. Each step disturbed the silence, the small rocks under my boots shifting with each step. I felt like an intruder, although I’d been here at least a dozen times before. The last, however, had been a dozen years ago. I’d been ten and still living at home. Not yet the black sheep that I had become at sixteen…
Turning slowly around, taking in the distant hills, the edge of the wood, the clouds lingering in the sky, Joey, and then, once again, Gran’s house.
“In. Hopefully it’s not a mess,” I said, glancing back at Joey again, drinking him in. God, he was good looking. Athletically lean, high cheek-bones, a perpetual smile settled in his dark eyes and on his lips, a mop of black hair. Not that there wasn’t more to him than good looks. Besides being the guitarist in Sinister Arcade, he was also quite clever and, best of all, his sexual appetite matched mine, a rarity, in my experience. Perhaps I should be more embarrassed about that but, quite frankly, I’m not. Oh, and he made me laugh. I think that was what attracted me to him most. There wasn’t a lot of laughter growing up. My family was much too serious.
“I’ll deal with bears or wolves. Spiders, though, and I’m out of here,” he joked, moving to my side, one arm behind me, his hand resting comfortably on my arse, coaxing a chuckle out of me, my hand slipping into the pocket of his leather jacket out of habit.
“Pussy.”
“Is that an offer, B? Maybe we should check out the bedroom first.”
I should mention that he called me B more often than not. Short for Beks which was short for Rebecca.
“Or you could just take me on the bonnet,” I retorted, swiveling, my chin tilting up to kiss him. “Nearest neighbor is miles away…”
“Tramp.”
I replied with a sharp burst of laughter, pushing him away, watching his eyes, making sure I had his full attention as I pulled my tee over my head and tossed it at him, revealing a black lace bra underneath.
“Be kind of fun, you know,” I purred, swaying my hips seductively, before leaning over the car’s bonnet, quickly unbuttoning my jeans and wiggling them and my panties past my hips and half way down my thighs. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.”
Another thing I loved about Joey? He knew when to talk and when to simply take action. Without a word he had his jeans undone and was pushing his hardening cock into my ready pussy. I bent over farther, balancing on my elbows, pushing my hips back as I tried to force him deeper.
“Fuck my nasty little fanny, baby,” I half moaned, mouth hanging open as I pushed harder, his laughter seeming even louder in the silence surrounding Gran’s cottage.
“Just want my cock wet enough to stuff into that tight little bum of your, Beks.”
“Fuck,” I managed, meaning it as a protest, as he rammed himself into me, his hips slamming into my arse, pushing me against the fender. I lost my balance and ended up with my tits pressed against the vehicle. Not that I cared. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me, but right now I was craving it rough.
“Slut,” He murmured appreciatively as he pulled out. I could only imagine what he saw; my pussy opened like a flower, dripping with desire, his cock coated with my honey, my hand reaching beneath me to finger my clit.
“Animal,” I groaned, left cheek sliding across the bonnet, gasping as I felt him press the head of his cock against my pucker and begin to push. I pushed back, trying to relax, not that it mattered. He was slick enough with my juices to do the job without any help from me.
“Going to fuck that tight little arse, baby. Fill it up with cum.”
Digging his fingers into the flesh of my hips, be punctuated his words with hard thrusts, his cock swelling even bigger inside me. God, it hurt, but the pleasure I was getting outweighed the discomfort. I began grinding my fingers against my clit, desperate to get as much pleasure as I could before he made good on his promise. That was how the game was always played with us. If I wanted to come, I had to do it before he blew his wad inside my ass. Otherwise, I’d have to wait…
“Goddamn, B,” He grunted, pushing into me so hard that my feet left the ground. I felt him tense as he shot his load deep into my bum, filling me with hot cum. Shite. That meant my orgasm was on hold until I could seduce him a second time.
We stayed like that for a short while, his cock slowly diminishing within my ass, allowing his cum to drip into my panties and jeans. Eventually, he pulled out, releasing what was left of his spunk. Had I been more of a proper English lady, I would have lamented that I was going to be walking around with cum soaked pants and panties for the rest of the afternoon. Giggling, I contemplated removing them and exploring the house in my bra. It was a short lived, if tempting thought.
“Fucker,” I growled, mock-angry as I dressed, his cum wet on my thighs, pussy and bum.
Grinning back, he gave my backside a playful smack before grabbing my wrist and twisting me around so I was up against him, gazing up into those delicious, chocolate colored eyes of his moments before he kissed me passionately, our tongues sliding over each other as he cupped my arse with one hand and mauled my boob with the other.
“I can never get enough of you,” he whispered into my ear as we both came up for air. I replied with a sassy little smile and another kiss.
“Best not forget that, lover. Now, how about we take a look inside? It’s supposed to be still furnished. I bet we can find a bed.”
“Why? Tired you out? Kind of early for a nap, B,” Joey teased. Appropriately enough, I hit him, although it wasn’t nearly as hard as he deserved.
“Arsehole.”
oOo
The keys were in the flower pot like Daddy had said. Not that I had a problem with a breaking and entering, but this was easier. Of course, none of them were labeled and it took several tries before I had the front door unlocked. It creaked open like the hinges needed a good oiling. Suddenly feeling a surge of emotion, I stepped through the door way into a world both familiar and strange.
My memories of the place were over a decade old. Things had changed since then, or so I assumed. My over active imagination might have been at fault as well. Still, I recognized it as the home of my Grandmother. Gran, I’d called her in my youth. That word fit her well, I thought. No airs about it, or her. Besides her whimsical and fascinating tales of other lands, it was her laughter that I remembered best. The phrase joi de vivre had been created especially for her…
“Bit dingy,” Joey commented, more to himself than to me. Nodding in return, I ran my finger over the rim of the umbrella stand set beside the door, gathering a faint layer of dust for my troubles. It had lain dormant since her death. That much was obvious.
“It seemed bigger when I was a kid,” I mused out loud, drawing a chuckle from my boyfriend.
“Perhaps it’s because you were smaller?”
“Perhaps,” I smiled softly in agreement, taking a long pause and soaking in the room.
It was quaint, and only an English cottage could be. It felt almost lost in time, not just because of my childhood memories, but because of the décor. I’d never really paid attention before, but it could easily have passed for something from the turn of the century; the last one, not the current one.
Taking a few steps in, the heels of my boots muted on the well-worn throw rug covering the entry way, protecting the polished hard wood floor from punks such as me, I felt as if I’d entered another time, one of posh tea parties and cakes and buns and all that crap.
Some of the paintings were missing. Probably hanging on my sister’s, and her prick of a husband’s, walls by now. I knew, without even looking, that the jewelry and good china would be cleaned out. I didn’t care. I was more interested in the less obvious treasures.
“Looks like it’s been gone through,” Joey observed, rifling through a drawer in a writing table against the near wall.
“You think?” I answered sarcastically, pausing in front of the china cabinet, my reflection staring back at me from the glass insert.
I hadn’t bothered putting my top back on. The weather was nice and I’d never been all that modest even in public. Here, where it was just the two of us, I hadn’t given exploring in my bra a second thought.
“Lucky bastard,” I grinned over my shoulder. “You have a hottie for a girlfriend.”
No false humility there. At 22, I looked fit. Nice bum, perky tits, hair a vibrant purple. Tasteful, at least in my opinion – my family would have said different – ear, brow, and nose piercings. A couple of tats, one of Joey’s band’s logo, something I’d designed myself, on my right bicep, and a sleeve of what could only be described as a gothic garden on my left; thorny vines decorated with a variety of roses, dark winged moths and butterflies, a predatory looking caterpillar, and, if one knew were too look, a cruel smile beneath a pair of cat-like eyes, something from a half remembered dream that I’d latched onto as a troubled youth.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Insatiable prick,” I managed as he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, covering my mouth with his, effectively silencing me, swapping tongues as he cupped my bum and pulled me against him.
“Not fair,” I pouted breathlessly, pushing him away. “Some of us haven’t gotten any relief.”
“Poor little Beks. Say please,” he teased.
“Fuck you.”
“Close enough.”
Before I could protest, not that I would have, he’d grabbed my hips and man-handled me over to the writing table, setting my bum on the edge before roughly yanking down my jeans, yet again. I might as well have left them off.
“Pervert.”
“And proud of it,” he said with a grin, letting me undo his jeans and pull them down around his thighs, his thick cock springing free and slapping my thigh.
That was the end of the conversation. It’s kind of hard to talk when your boyfriend stuffs his cock up your twat and starts pounding away at you. Best I could do was get out a series of grunts and groans and, eventually some impassioned moans that may, or may not, have resembled ‘fuck me harder you mad bastard’.
I’m not sure who was humping who. I had my legs wrapped around his thighs as he gripped my bum, thrusting into my dripping wet pussy without finesse or tenderness. It was pure animal lust and it was heavenly. This time, I came first, biting into his shoulder, my nails raking down his leather covered shoulders and upper back as my cunt tightened around his cock and I let out a wordless cry of ecstasy. It seemed like only moments later when he shot his load deep inside me and I climaxed yet again, my back arching so that our bellies were smashed together, breathlessly clinging to him for support, forehead on his shoulder.
“Insatiable tart,” he breathed, his heart beating against my breast.
“Love me?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Arsehole,” I said fondly, smiling, my arms tightening around him, eyes closed in post orgasmic bliss.
I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, neither of us willing to break the spell. Long enough that the edge of the table began digging uncomfortable into my bum, causing me to squirm, his cum leaking around his softened cock to the floor.
“Your Gran was still alive, she’d kill us, B.”
I didn’t say anything right away, feeling my smile go a little sad at the thought.
“Wish you could have met her.”
“Me too. She sounds brilliant, everything you’d said. Sorry.”
“Thanks. We should umm… get back to it.”
“Don’t think I can, at least for a bit. The old solider’s not standing at full.”
“Not what I meant,” I growled, smacking him one, both of us grinning like idiots as we untangled ourselves. This time, I didn’t even bother putting my jeans back on. Just my panties, still sticky from our earlier tryst and smelling like sex.
For his part, Joey tossed his jacket on the sofa, and pulled his pants back on, much to my disappointment.
“At least take your top off. Give me a bit of eye candy.”
“As her majesty wishes,” he grinned, complying with my wish, his tee-shirt joining his leather jacket, giving me a chance to ogle his abs. God, he looked good.
“Round three?”
“Fuck you, arsehole. I want to finish up here before it gets dark. Pretty sure I don’t want to be driving around these back roads in the dark.”
oOo
The ‘library’ was just as I remembered it if you ignored the light patina of dust over everything. It looked like nothing had been touched, not surprisingly. I was the only one in the family who’d ever taken an interest in reading simply for the joy of reading. Daddy read all the financials, of course, and Victoria read all her fashion and gossip rags. As for Mother, she seemed content with those stupid Harlequin romances that I loathed. So yeah, the only member of our family not to attend University was, in some ways, the best educated. Go figure.
“We should have rented a van, B, if you’re thinking of nabbing all of them.”
I didn’t bother with a reply. It was pretty obvious that I hadn’t been thinking this thing through. In my defense, I’d just been told my Gran had died, that I’d missed the funeral, and that everything was going to be sold off in about a week. I hadn’t even had a chance to do much crying. I kind of felt like doing a little of it right now, though as the reality of it hit me. Even though it had been forever since I’d even talked to her, I felt a huge emptiness in my chest.
“Fuck, Joey. I should have made an effort, you know?”
His answer was perfect. He simply pulled me into his arms and held me tight, kissing the top of my head as I cried silently against his bare chest. Not sure how long it went on, but eventually I ran out of tears and even felt a little better.
“Thanks,” I whispered against his warm, salty wet flesh.
“Yeah, well, you know.”
Again, the perfect answer. Scrubbing the tears from my lashes and cheeks, I did a slow three-sixty, surveying the book filled shelves that lined the walls. I have envisioned, for some reason, a few hundred tomes. More like a few thousand. Maybe Gran had gone a bit overboard since the last time I’d visited? It was, quite frankly, overwhelming.
“Where do I even start?” I wondered out loud.
“Picture books. ‘Specially ones with naked women in them,” Joey suggested unhelpfully.
“Remember when I told you I love you? I take it back,” I shot back, trying to keep an amused smile from making an appearance.
“What are you looking for, Beks?” He asked, his voice earnest.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Stuff I want to save, I guess? Anything personal.”
That was the thing. I really had no idea. Without much thought, I stepped over to a random shelf and started browsing the spines. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to how they were shelved. Novels alongside history. Books of art sandwiched by autobiographies. It was a mess, really. Here and there I pulled something out that looked interesting and set it on the floor behind, while Joey, bless his heart, did the same on the wall to my right. Minutes passed quickly, turning into an hour, and then two, the pile of books growing slowly, my brain growing numb as well.
“Could use a bite,” Joey said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Going to go grab some chips out of the boot. Want anything?”
“Sure, whatever. Get the biscuits too, would you? And water.”
“Be right back.”
With that, I was alone. Not that I minded. Pausing, I went over to the pile that Joey had been building, smiling at his idea of interesting. Some of them were spot on, which gave me a little bump of joy. Best boyfriend ever. Like the books on Fairy Tales, something I’d always had an interest in. Curious, I picked up one and thumbed through it, smiling at the illustrations illuminated by the light from the single window in the room. They looked familiar, though I couldn’t place the artist. Setting that down, I chose another one at random. Scandinavian Myths. Thor and Loki and all that. I should mention that Joey loved reading comics. He’d probably picked this one because of the Marvel Movies.
I began to thumb through it and a piece of paper slipped out, fluttering to the floor, landing face up. A Photo taken about twelve years ago. I recognized it. Me and Gran out in the garden, dirt all over my frock, smiling like a lunatic, a trowel in one hand. I felt my eyes moisten again as I retrieved it and carefully slipped it back between the pages for safe keeping.
“Tea time,” Joey announced from the doorway, drawing my attention. “No tea or jam, but I got Cheetos. Even better, right? Brought a couple of sandwiches in, too. Figured it would be nice to have a sit down for a minute.”
“’Cause you’re awesome like that,” I said, earning a grin in response.
“Exactly.”
I made a mental note to give him the world’s best blow job before the day was done. I would have done it right there and then, but my stomach started protesting, reminding me that it had been ages since I’d put anything in it. I suddenly realized I was famished.
Laugh all you want, but it was kind of romantic, Joey leaning back against a wall of books in just his jeans, wolfing down Cheetos and a ham and cheese, while I leaned up against him, his legs to either side of me, in just my underwear, content as I nibbled on a cucumber sandwich, making a point to keep my pinky outstretched for the sole reason that it made me giggle.
“Poshest tart in all of England, you are,” he jested, earning him a playful elbow in the ribs.
“You just ruined your chances for a blow job later,” I retorted.
“Worth it. Besides, you love giving me blow jobs. Figure you’ll forgive me eventually.”
“Hate you.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, kissing the back of my head and slipping one arm around my waist and pinning me against him. We stayed like that, content and happy, for far longer than I’d planned. Even might have napped a little while he held me. When my eyes finally fluttered open again I could tell by the light from the window that several hours had passed.
“Shite,” I murmured sleepily, rubbing at my face with the palms of my hands. “How come you let me do that?”
“Been a rough week. Figured you needed it.”
Groaning, I made my way to my feet, giving my hair a quick comb through with one hand. “Back to work, slave.”
I yelped as he gave my arse a playful slap before once more sorting through books.
“Cut your balls off you ever do that again.”
“Worth it… Hey, Beks. Come check this out. Looks like a journal…”
With an almost solemn gesture he placed the book into my hands, his eyes meeting mine, a hint of excitement in them.
“Your Gran’s, B. Bet it’s got all sort of dirty secrets in it.”
“Should I have a look?” I asked, looking for a genuine answer. After all, reading someone else’s journal wasn’t something you took lightly, even if that person was dead. What if she turned out to be a burglar, or a serial killer or, even worse, a conservative.
“What if you find out she listened to Robbie Williams?” Joey mirrored my concerns with an exaggerated shudder.
“Bite your tongue. This is my Gran we’re talking about!” I retorted, taking a swipe at him with the flat of the leather bound book.
“Bit funny for you?”
I nodded, caressing the cover of the book with one hand, wondering if it held any secrets or if it was just recipes and stupid day to day stuff. Honestly, I kind of hoped that there were bits about me in it. Favorable bits, hopefully…
“Could be she used to party with The Clash, you know. That’d be something.”
Nodding, Joey’s words not really reaching me, I opened the notebook to the first page tentatively, a little knot of uneasiness in my belly. It was all there in black and white. Helen Newton. Feb. 67-Nov. 67.
“Bit invasive,” I muttered, slowly turning the page, turning myself so that my back was to my boyfriend, only half aware of gnawing at my lower lip as I perused her first entry.
“Fuck me. Gran was hippy. Listen to this.” I thumbing through the pages, reading bits of her life chronicled in a neat script, unable to keep a bit of a smile from creeping into my voice.
“Talks about snogging boys, smoking pot, and… fuck. Dropping acid at a Pink Floyd concert?” It was hard to imagine my sweet, very English Grandmother tripping out to psychedelic music with a bunch of dirty hippies.
“Check it, Joey,” I went on, pausing on one of the April entries. “By chance, ran into George Harrison at the Marquee. Bit awestruck. Wicked sense of humor. Quite Gracious. Got pissed. Ended up sleeping with a bird I just met, a first! And then; Plans to meet Alice again tonight. If mum and dad ever find out!”
“Christ. Your Gran was a todger dodger!” Joey said with a laugh. “Did you know?”
“One girl doesn’t turn you into a dyke… I mean, if it did…” I felt myself blushing, recalling my little fling with Lizzy last summer. “And no, I had no idea. She never talked about anyone before Grandad.”
“Don’t worry, Beks. I think it’s kind of hot. Just funny to think about, right?”
“A bit,” I said, slowly leafing through more pages, not really reading anymore, not sure I wanted to uncover any other secrets, not that that one was so bad. “Kind of cool, actually, to know that Gran was kind of wild. Maybe that’s where I get it from. Must skip over generations. Can you imagine my Dad doing anything like that?”
“Yeah, actually, I can. Just imagine him snorting coke off some stripper’s tits, B, while taking it up the bum.”
“Ew! I exclaimed, almost dropping the journal, half bent over with disgusted laughter. “Going to have to scrub my brain out now.”
“Hey, dropped something, B.”
I glanced down, noticing it almost as soon as he’d said it. An envelope on the floor. Kneeling, I picked it up, turning it over, looking for some clue as to its contents. It was blank, as well as sealed.
“Letter from someone?” I mused out loud, catching Joey’s shrug from the corner of my eye.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be a few thousand quid. Or a treasure map, even.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” I murmured, contemplating the wisdom of taking a peek. Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound. I carefully worked it open using the tip of my purple painted fingernail.
“Photos. Damn. Check these out. Pretty sure it’s Gran when she was my age.”
I felt Joey’s presence behind me, acutely aware of how long his fingers were as they settled on my hips, his cheek brushing against my ear as I shared the photos with him one by one. There must have been a dozen or so.
“Your Gran was a looker.” He grunted as I planted my elbow into his ribs.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Yeah, she kind of was, right? Damn. Check it. She’s smoking a joint! Wonder if that’s that bird with her. Alice. Think they were all taken here, too. Looks like out back in the garden.”
I kept going, recognizing a couple taken inside the cottage with that girl again as well as several guys I didn’t recognize, until I got to the second to last picture, a little gasp of shock slipping out.
“The fuck?”
I found myself staring, opened mouth, at a very strange scene. Gran in bell bottomed jeans and peasant blouse on an obviously windy day, judging by her long blonde hair, being flanked on one side by the chick we’d pegged as Alice and on the other by…
“That’s a freaking huge cat, B. More like a leopard or something…” Joey sounded as awed as I felt at the sight of the huge cat, fur so black it was almost purple, pressed up against Gran’s leg, its eyes gleaming.
“Panther, maybe? Not really sure. Looks like about 35 stone. Look at its mouth, though. It’s… grinning.”
I shuddered. It wasn’t quite normal looking and it gave me the creeps. I could imagine it looking straight out of the photo and at me, judging me and finding me wanting. Chalk it up to an overactive imagination, perhaps, but it felt real to me.
Almost hypnotically, I revealed the very last photo, feeling a wave of shocked disbelief flow through me. It looked like it was taken moments after the other. Same background, same lighting, nearly same pose, only this time, the giant cat was missing or, rather, most of it was missing. It’s unsettling grin and too intelligent eyes remained.
“B? That’s photo shopped, right?”
“Yeah, has to be. Sure.”
Only, in our hearts, we both knew better. The picture had been taken in 1967, after all. It was all too real. Eventually, I broke the silence before it had grown too uncomfortable, pushing the photos back into the envelope and closing Gran’s journal on them.
“Kind of like your tat, B…” Joey trailed off, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Could use a fag, I’m thinking.”
“Yeah, kind of… Grab my clothes while you’re at it?”
“I’ll fetch them for you. Be right back.”
I watched Joey until he was gone from sight and then turned to the window, approaching it cautiously and pressing my nose against the thick pane, arms folded across my tummy. Peering out into the garden and, beyond that, beyond an overgrown brick wall, the woods, I thought back to when I was a child. Gran had tales about talking animals out in the woods. Kind of like the Thousand Acre Woods, but her tales always held a bit of danger in them. Oh, Pooh had his woozels and huffalumps, but they seemed rather comical, even at the time. Nothing at all like the creatures that had bled out of her stories into my dreams as a little girl…
“Fucking Christ!” I exclaimed, feeling a hand on my shoulder, heart pounding against my ribs as I spun and backed away.
“Just me, love,” Joey said with a laugh. “Got your things. Grabbed you a Pepsi, too. And hey, it’s growing late and we’re not even close to being finished here. Fancy staying the night? Not sure how I’d feel sleeping in your Gran’s bed, but there might be a guest bed, right? Worst case, I’ll let you have the sofa and I’ll take the floor.”
“Such a gentleman,” I snapped back, still cross at him for putting a scare into me.
“Do my best,” He returned, his words full of sincerity.
“Damn, Sorry. Just sort of an emotional day, Joey. Didn’t mean to bite your head off.”
“Wouldn’t mind you doing other things with it, though,” he said with a wink and an exaggerated leer. Seemed only one way to respond to that. I smacked him one on the shoulder before taking my clothes from him and hurriedly dressing. I know it was just my imagination going, but it felt like I was being watched. I felt a prickling at the back of my neck as I pulled my top over my head, of half a mind to draw the curtains. Thing is, we kind of needed the light…
“Don’t suppose you brought a torch?”
“In my kit, B. Want me to fetch it?”
“Right now I want you to hold me. We’ll go get it and the rest of our gear in a bit. I don’t want to alone right now.”
He held me for a bit. It was nice. Comforting. Like I’d said, he was a sweet guy, at least to me. Could be a bit of an arse to just about anyone else, but me, he always treated like I was special.
“Love you,” I murmured, turning up my chin so that I could kiss him.
“Love you too, Beks,” he whispered into my mouth, kissing me until, finally, reluctantly, I pushed him away. “Torch. And might as well bring everything else in, too. Figure staying the night’s a sight better than driving through the dark.”
While he was gone, I picked up where I’d left off in Gran’s journal. From the sound of it, it as a wild year. Concerts, drugs, hitch hiking, and Alice. I got the impression she was pretty much infatuated with the girl. I pulled out one of the photos again – one of the ‘normal’ ones that didn’t include a disappearing panther – and studied it. Like Joey had said, Gran had been a bit of a looker. For that matter, so was Alice. Classic beauty, really, with curling blonde hair and blue eyes and a real nice figure. I could definitely see the attraction, at least physically. I turned to the last page, curious to see where it ended. Not well, apparently. Bit of a row, it sounded like, and a break up. Sounded like my Gran was a bit devastated by it all. Apparently Alice went back home, wherever home was.
“Like to find the next one,” I mused out loud.
“Next what, B?” Joey had returned
“Journal. Wonder if it’s in hidden somewhere as well. This one kind of ends on a downer.”
“I’ll start looking. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”
“Yeah, I’ll work this wall. Might be others too…” I mused, starting to browse the spines, intent on finding a similar looking notebook…
oOo
It was getting dark outside by the time we’d covered pretty much every shelf in the library without any success. Soon it would be pitch black with no city lights and no moon to shed any illumination down on the cozy little cottage. Nor inside, either. We’d found out fairly early on that the electricity had been turned off. We were already operating by torch light, which was, to be honest, kind of fun.
“Let’s explore a bit, Beks. You’ve been cooped up in here for hours now. At least let’s see if there’s a bed.”
“You just want to fuck, admit it.”
“Yeah. Can you blame me? Hottest bird this side of the Atlantic. Of course I do.”
“Only on this side?” I made a face at him.
“ScarJo. Sorry. But you got to admit.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. Anyone else?”
“Nope. That’s it. None of the rest hold a candle to my Bekka.”
You see why we’d stuck together through thick and thin? Through good times and bad? Joey was my guy and I loved being his girl.
“You’ve got that look, B…”
“Let’s go find a bed. I want to fuck your brains out. Hell, bed, sofa, chair, floor, doesn’t really matter. I want to feel you inside me.”
In the end, we found a spare bed room with a made up bed. Neither of us wasted any time tearing each other’s clothes off. After that it was just one crazy tangle of limbs and laughter and groans and moans until finally, we were both spent. Naked, I curled up against him, my backside to his front, his arms wrapped around me protectively in the pitch dark of the room.
“Too bad we don’t have the dosh to buy the place,” I mused, my eyes drooping closed, almost purring in his arms. “Make a nice little get away.”
“Make a great rehearsal space, too. No neighbors to worry about knocking on the walls of the flat. Me and the lads could play as loud as we wanted.”
Normally, I would have smacked him round the noggin about then. Tonight, though, I was too tried and too much in love to bother. Tomorrow, though, would be another day. With that thought fading as fast as it had come, I drifted off to sleep, the ghost of a smile waning on my lips…
