Memory Four
MEMORY FOUR
GRANT
For once, I didn’t sit on the edge of my bed and count exactly what was wrong with my life. I didn’t ruminate on my brood of children or the death of their mother or how the fuck I was going to sort my life out or find a school for Max.
I thought about a woman who wasn’t my wife. A woman who hadn’t been my childhood sweetheart.
A woman who had curves my hands itched to touch, whose hair would look amazing spread out across my pillow, whose lips I wanted to hear say my name.
I’d spent the day trying not to stare at her, to avoid looking at how her shirt didn’t hide the swell of her tits or wonder how it would feel to run my hand up her leg, under the short skirt she wore.
Not. Very. Professional.
Plus she was talented. She concentrated on every word said, took it in, understood it and worked it so it suited her argument. She was feisty and passionate and didn’t seem afraid of anything.
There was no way she’d be interested in me. I had baggage and a history that had to be the biggest woman deterrent ever, even enough to put some socialites off my inheritance.
But there’d been a conversation at lunch time that I’d overheard between Marie and Dessy about Marie’s date. It didn’t seem like she was interested in anything more than a night to blow off the cobwebs, or at least that was how she’d phrased it.
So I was taking a chance. I was only here for a couple of weeks. Marie was based in New York. There was no way anything serious could happen, so it wouldn’t matter to her that Max didn’t have a school and I was one nanny short of a simple life, or that I was a crap father.
That last was going to be resolved as soon as I got home.
But right now, I was in New York City. I was still young and definitely single and I needed to move on and find something to make me smile.
I showered and shaved, finding a shirt and pants that didn’t scream lawyer and sprayed on some aftershave I’d picked up at duty free and then headed over to the bar I knew Marie would be at.
Unless they’d moved on.
Unless she’d taken him back to her apartment already.
I was going to walk in there and look like a complete fool.
She was at a table with a man who seemed to have stepped out of a knitting catalogue, his blazer thrown over one shoulder, a pale blue polo shirt fitted to his torso. I doubted his hair would move in a hurricane, but it might be set alight if he came within whispering distance of a naked flame, such was the level of hairspray.
The bar was typically American in its size and layout, vastly different to the pubs in London. I wasn’t a huge drinker, apart from whisky at the end of a long day on occasion, and a really decent bottle of red wine with a meal, but I ordered a beer, knowing the exact moment when Marie realised I was there.
I turned around and saw her looking at me straight away, her eyes narrowed, her date still talking as if he didn’t realise her attention was no longer on him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” She mouthed the words at me.
Her date asked her something, probably the first thing he’d asked her all night or maybe I was being really fucking mean about him. She pecked a kiss on his cheek and headed over to me, every man and some of the women taking a good look at her.
She was stunning, her skirt tight, showing off her arse, and her top skimming over her tits, teasing enough so that the semi I was concealing felt uncomfortable.
“Why are you here?” She tapped the bar with her fingernails as she looked me up and down. “You look less lawyer-like.”
“I’m not just a lawyer.”
Her eyes glimmered and I saw a smile start to spread. “You finally realised that, did you?”
I took the hit. “Yeah, just about. How’s your date?”
She glanced around to where Mr Cardboard Cut Out was still sitting, checking his reflection in a mirror he was holding.
I frowned at her. “Seriously, how’s your date?”
Marie’s eyes darkened, her expression irritated. “I think he’d prefer to be out with a blow-up doll that’s modelled on himself. Shall we go?”
“Go where exactly?” I was happy to follow her anywhere because she looked like the best decision I’d made in a long time. “I need details.”
“Somewhere the whisky tastes of peat.” She tugged at my shirt. “But there’s a condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t talk about work and tomorrow we don’t talk about this.” Her small fingers undid the top button and then the next.
“I can work with that. What about him?”
Marie glanced back over. “He’s no longer necessary.” She gestured to one of the bar staff. “Marla, I’m heading out to the Irish bar with my colleague. My ex-date will pick up the tab.” She pushed a note into the tips jar.
Marla nodded, looking me up and down and smiling. “You upgraded your date.”
Marie shook her head. “He’s a colleague. A lawyer.”
“Shame you have the no-lawyer rule. Although you might want to break it for this one.”
I realised what it was like to be a woman in a bar with men who were eating you with their eyes. Marla was definitely imagining what I looked like naked and I wasn’t sure how good I was with that.
“We have another day tomorrow of working against each other, so that’d be a no. Catch you later.” Marie swung round, not even glancing at the ex-date.
“See you later, Irish girl!” Marla yelled as I followed her. “I’d break my no-lawyer rule for that!”
Which I supposed was a vote of confidence.
The Irish bar we ended up in was exactly like I expected an Irish bar to be like in New York. The range of whiskies was impressive, including some rare bottles that I hadn’t seen before or tried, so I ordered a double of one of those, not surprised when Marie ordered the same.
“We can argue about who pays afterwards.” She tucked another note in the tip jar. “Thanks, Jack – keep them coming!” Then she headed to one of the empty tables at the back, away from the ceilidh band that was playing.
“We have work tomorrow.” I needed to remind myself of that. I didn’t want to go into agreeing the finer details of the settlement tomorrow with a hangover.
“We do. So we’ll call time at eleven and head home then. Where are you staying?” She sipped the whisky, her eyes closing while she savoured the taste. “Good choice.”
“Thanks. I’m at the Hilton. Do you live near?” I wanted to know more about her, find out something about someone who wasn’t me, who wasn’t connected with my life.
She stretched out, reminding me of a small cat, all grace and nimbleness.
“About two minutes from here. I’ve got a loft apartment which my father hates but I love. It isn’t in the best block, which is the bit he doesn’t like. He’d rather I was somewhere more upmarket.”
“Poor little rich girl, hey?” I was playing with fire teasing her.
“Et toi, Grant Callaghan. How much do you inherit? The problems we children of old money face.” She shook her head. “I used to wish I’d been born into a normal family, that I’d had a Saturday job and needed to work through college. I hated other people being envious, especially because if they saw what my summers were like in Ireland, they’d be shocked.”
“What were those summers like?”
“Wild. Barefoot and sandy. We pretty much lived on a beach with the sand dunes and cliffs, sleeping on bunkbeds and climbing trees. Have you been to the west coast of Ireland?”
“No. I believe it’s beautiful though.” Maybe not as beautiful as she was, her blue eyes full of laughter and fun and brimming with life.
“It is. It’s my favourite place. You should take your kids there for a holiday. I can put you up in the house we have there, just near the coast. It isn’t posh or fancy, but it’s real. They’d love it.”
I nodded, not sure how I’d manage. “I’ve never been on my own with the four of them.”
“Well, there’s something you need to sort out. They’re your kids, Grant. Be their dad.” She sipped her whisky again. “I’m sorry. I’ll save the lectures.”
“I think I probably deserve those lectures.”
A shrug, timed with a new song from the band. “Dance?”
I laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t - ”
“Yes, you do. No one here cares that you’re a hot shot lawyer with more money than sense. No one’s looking at you because they’re all drunk with their own lives. Don’t make me dance alone.” She stood up and headed over to the makeshift dance floor not even looking back to see if I was following.
I didn’t dance. I didn’t do much other than wallow in my own misery and work endless hours because I didn’t need the money. I followed her anyway, watching as she smiled and laughed with people she passed, finding a spot on the dance floor, and joining in some Irish dance that made me want to fall over just watching it.
When she saw me, lingering at the end of the dancing, she lunged for me, dragging me into the melee, her hands burning my skin as soon as they touched me, her hair floating wildly around her as we moved.
“It’s really simple,” she spoke close to my ear. “You just shift any which way you want as close to the beat as you can, but remember, no one cares.”
I cared. I cared right now about how I was feeling, wondering when was the last time I felt this free. I cared about not losing this feeling now I’d had it.
Marie’s arms went round my neck as the song changed, a slower tune about a lover who’d lost everything. Automatically I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close to me, wondering when was the last time I felt this close to someone.
Maybe never. Maybe when Rachael and I were young and sneaking around our parents – or so we believed. They were pleased when we got together and encouraged us to get married as soon as possible.
We were too young.
“What are you thinking? Martians can see the frown on your face right now.” She lifted a hand to smooth out the lines on my forehead.
“You’re so complimentary.” I pulled her a little closer, her breasts pressing against my chest.
“I’m truthful. So if I ever do compliment you, you’ll know I’m not blowing smoke up your arse.” Her fingers grazed my face on the way down to my shoulder.
“Do you think you’ll be complimenting me much in the next few days?” My hand went higher up her back, cupping the back of her neck.
“Eleven days. Is that how long you’ve got left here?”
“Eleven days. Twelve nights.” Suddenly it didn’t seem long enough. “I’m wondering how I can fill those twelve nights?”
Her head tipped up to look at me. “Tours of the city. No doubt you’ll need to work. Late night shopping. Maybe a show on Broadway. Maybe a show off-Broadway. You’re in the city that never sleeps.”
“And you’d rather be on the West Coast of Ireland.”
“I’d rather be in a bed.” Her hand was untucking my shirt from my trousers.
“Doing what?” My cock was hard. The whisky – not enough to cause whisky dick, thankfully – had dulled any inhibitions. I’d spent the last day studying the woman now in my arms, wondering what it was like to hold her, kiss her.
Fuck her.
I wondered how she’d taste on my tongue and how she’d say my name when I made her come. I wondered what it’d take to impress her and make her want more.
“Not sleeping.” Her eyes danced. “But you’re a lawyer and I’ve sworn off lawyers.”
“Can I ask for your reasoning behind that? I’d like to present my case.”
Luckily she laughed. “I don’t want to talk about work outside of work. I don’t want to be my father.”
The song changed, more upbeat now, so I took a punt and swung her round on the dance floor, finding some skill from somewhere.
Marie laughed, making me look better than I was by being much more competent at this.
“I don’t think you could ever be anything but you.” I pulled her back close to me. “I promise I won’t talk about work. I don’t know what else I have to talk about, but it won’t be work.” Was I trying too hard?
She stilled, her arms back around my neck. The rest of the dance floor carried on around us. “We could just not talk.”
“Then what do you propose we do?” My hand stopped on the side of her body, in exactly the right spot for my thumb to graze the underside of her breast.
“Take me back to your hotel and I’ll show you.”
Bar tab paid, her hand in mine as we navigated our way through streets that were testament to the city that wasn’t going to sleep any time soon.
The concierge opened the door of the hotel for us, the receptionist recognising me so my key was ready for me to grab, the buzz running through my veins having nothing to do with work for a change and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.
We were the only people in the lift, the doors closing shut at exactly the same time I kissed her, her back to the lift wall, our hands greedy as they covered new ground.
She tasted of the whisky we’d drank, her lips soft, her mouth demanding. The kiss lacked finesse but no one was scoring it based on that. She pulled at my shirt, loosening it from my trousers, her hands undoing my belt buckle. Then she was touching my chest, sliding upward across skin that hadn’t been touched like this in so long.
My kisses were greedy, desperate to not give her any reason to stop. It wasn’t that it had been too long – although it had – it was her, this woman who was so full of energy and wit and intelligence.
And understanding.
The lift gave a concerning jolt and came to a stop, the lights flickering off and a dim emergency light coming on with a buzz.
“You’re not going to panic on me, are you, Callaghan?” Marie started to undo more of my shirt buttons.
“I think we should distract ourselves.”
“We should press the emergency button.”
Neither of us did because our hands we already occupied, mine exploring the tits that had tortured me all day, undoing the buttons on her top and finding a bra with a front clasp. I undid it smoothly, which would be a cause for celebration later, and then my mouth was on her neck, kissing and nibbling on soft skin down to her breasts, while my hand explored between her legs, pushing her skirt round her hips so I could cup her sex, feeling the warmth and her dampness seep through the lacey material.
A moan from her told me I was doing good.
“What happens when the power comes back on?” I asked quietly.
“We stop any chance of being arrested and leg it to your roo – oh, fuck, that feels good.” Her head tipped back, eyes closed.
My fingers were toying with her clit, then teasing at her entrance, enough to make her hips buck, trying to urge me on.
“Patience is a virtue.” I licked one of her nipples, wondering how long I could be patient for.
"Patience is overrated." She threaded her fingers through my hair. “Not to put you under any pressure, but I need at least half a dozen orgasms.”
“Just a reminder that we’re in a lift which could start up any second.” I dropped down to my knees, hooking my arms under her so I could grasp her bottom with my hands. “Be a good girl and keep the noise down.”