Chapter 11
Thomas insisted on walking me home. After saying goodbye, I headed straight for the shower, turned the dial to hot, and stood underneath, so the steaming water would scald away the memories of what we’d done.
Eleanor’s comment about me needing to feel the sting of pleasure with someone was coming back to haunt me. I groaned. If I’d known her good-looking cousin was a master vibrator wielder, I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near me with that thing. But it was too late now. What was done was done.
To his credit, Thomas had kept up a steady stream of commentary, asking if what he was doing was OK. I supposed he was worried because I’d said I had a sexual phobia and didn’t want me to freak out. I don’t know why I’d said that, but after Ben left me, I felt anxious about going on dates and it leading to sex. So I’d assumed I had now had one.
I had appreciated Thomas’s concern, but part of me wished he would be quiet and let me fantasise about Jeremy. However, when he’d absently shifted the thing into the apex of my thighs, I discovered that having a large vibrator between my legs was immensely pleasurable. I’d let out a strangled gasp.
‘Whoops, sorry about that,’ Thomas apologised, hastily moving it away.
‘No, it’s fine. You can keep it there,’ I said, trying not to sound overly eager.
‘Well, if you insist.’ He moved it back and began making small stroking movements, centring it on a certain spot. My eyelids fluttered closed as I felt a pleasurable warmth travel up from between my legs and swirl around my solar plexus. A small moan escaped before I could help it.
Recognising I was feeling amorous, Thomas said, ‘Shall I kiss you? It might make it feel less clinical ...’
‘OK,’ I agreed, more conducive to the idea of snogging him.
Thomas lowered his lips to mine, and we kissed while he continued stroking me with the vibrator. He was a good kisser, not sloppy and didn’t try to ram his tongue down my throat, which I appreciated. Kissing him was actually pretty great, and he was obviously enjoying it too from the small noises he was making in his throat. As the kissing and vibrating went on with no traumatic effects (only enjoyable ones), I found myself automatically stroking his bare chest.
My hand dropped lower, feeling his washboard abs, and lower until I accidentally touched his member, which was warm and stiff. Embarrassed, I drew my hand away, but he said, ‘Feel free to go there.’
Then he added, ‘Or not. I don’t mind.’
‘Maybe I should take off my clothes too,’ I said, avoiding his eyes.
He shrugged. ‘Sure. Just tell me if at any point you want me to stop.’
I soaped my body thoroughly twice, rinsed, turned the water off, and reached for a towel. I buried my face in it and let out another groan as visions of Thomas steadily going through his checklist invaded my brain. At no point had I told him to stop. That was because everything he’d done had felt really good. Placing the vibrator so it buzzed away between my legs, he’d nibbled my earlobe, then sucked my nipples; and it was fantastic. And I’d participated by stroking his length, which he assured me felt equally as good. It was all so good, in fact, that things progressed to the point that we’d spontaneously climaxed. Afterwards, as we lay there, coming to our senses, Thomas had quipped, ‘Well, that was fun.’
At the time, it had been fun and strangely freeing since there was no pressure or expectations involved, but now I wondered what the hell I’d done. I felt guilty, like I’d somehow betrayed Jeremy, which was ridiculous. He was probably off having his own orgasms and not giving me a second thought. Or was he?
It was well after midnight when I’d finished drying my hair and was settled in bed, wearing a clean camisole and knickers. Idly, I glanced at my phone on the nightstand and saw there was a message from ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’. My heart sank, then, confusingly, lifted.
After Thomas had walked me home, there was the inevitable discussion about exchanging numbers. He’d wanted to put his in my contacts, but I hadn’t wanted him to see what I’d named him. So to get out of that dilemma, I’d confessed I already had his number and messaged him so he had mine. Now he’d sent me one back.
TTTE:Hi, I had a great time tonight. I know I said that before we did stuff, but just to reiterate it. Hope you’re not freaking out because of your sex phobia. Let me know you’re OK.
I supposed if I didn’t reply, he’d think I was freaking out. He did sound like he genuinely cared about my well-being. Either that, or he was worried I’d tell Eleanor that he’d seduced me.
Me:Hi, no, I’m not freaking out. Well, a little. But it had been a while, so to be expected I guess.
TTTE: I didn’t ask about what happened because I didn’t want to pry but for the record what your boyfriend and sister did to you was pretty shit.
Me: Yes it was. But perhaps tonight was exactly what I needed to get back on the horse as you said.
TTTE: Any chance you’ll need more practise?
Me:Let me sleep on it and I’ll get back to you.
***
A man who wanted me for my body rather than my heart was better than no man at all, I reasoned. Besides, I needed to be on top form sexually to entice Jeremy. I had to have moves, and Thomas was willing to teach me his. There didn’t seem to be any catch that I could see; emotions weren’t involved. He was simply in it to have some fun and to ‘help a girl out’. Once that fun was over and the girl was brought up to speed, I assumed he’d move on to someone else. Of course, it went without saying that Eleanor wouldn’t be privy to this arrangement. He said as much when I called him the next morning, and we arranged for him to drop by my flat in the late afternoon.
‘Er, you’re not going to mention this to Eleanor, are you? I’d prefer it if she didn’t know.’
‘I wasn’t planning on it. She said she didn’t want details if I met up with you anyway.’
‘Good.’
So our rendezvous took on a clandestine air. It was quite exciting. I’d never been anyone’s naughty little secret before. I tended to be the one finding out about other people’s naughty little secrets.
Even though it was Sunday, being the owner of an e-bike shop meant that Thomas said he often needed to work weekends to give his staff time off. However, he could take his pick of bikes. When I opened the door to his buzz just after 4 p.m., he was in a tight black muscle T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts, propping up a shiny red bike.
‘Do you mind if I bring it inside? It’s brand new. If I chained it up, it would probably get nicked in five seconds.’
‘Of course.’ I stepped aside as he wheeled it into the hallway.
As he passed by, I caught the pleasing scent of spicy deodorant and light sweat, and my stomach flipped nervously. He had the kind of larger-than-life presence that tended to command attention. I couldn’t help checking him out as he propped the bike against the wall, appreciating his athletic body. He turned and saw me watching him.
‘Hey.’ Thomas came over and kissed me on the lips without any preamble. His confidence was reassuring. He wasn’t going to play hard to get. He knew what he was here for and what would be happening.
Checking out my white jeans and blue cotton shirt, he said, ‘You look nice. No disguise today?’
‘No, that didn’t work. The guy I was stalking saw right through it.’
Thomas grinned and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Can I grab some water before we ... ?’
‘Sure,’ I said, leading the way to the kitchen.
I filled a glass with water at the sink, and he leaned against the counter next to me, sipping it and stroking my arm. I shivered involuntarily at his touch. ‘So no ill effects after last night? No rocking in the corner, night terrors, or anything?’
I shook my head. ‘I slept like a log.’
‘Good. I knew I’d cure you.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe you have. Maybe you haven’t.’
He finished his water, put the glass down, and moved closer so he was pressing me up against the counter. ‘No?’
My heart beat faster seeing his face at close range. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes half lidded. ‘You smell nice,’ he said. ‘Like strawberries.’
‘You do too, like a pine forest.’
Thomas chuckled. ‘You really have a way with words.’
He leaned in and kissed me, his tongue slowly caressing mine. I felt the stir of desire between my legs for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.
When we broke apart, he said, ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day. There I was, amongst the bike parts when I wanted to be amongst your parts.’
I giggled at that.
He lifted me onto the counter, and caught up in the moment, I hooked my legs around his waist. But then I realised that we were making out in my kitchen, where I cooked my meals.
‘What am I doing?’ I said aloud as Thomas proceeded to unbutton my shirt. He pulled the cup of my bra down to gently suck on an exposed nipple.
‘I don’t know,’ he murmured. ‘But I don’t think you should stop.’
***
Thomas seemed content to continue in the kitchen, but I suggested we move things to my bedroom. Since I’d changed the sheets, vacuumed, and dusted every single inch of it (even the top of the wardrobe and skirting boards) while waiting for him to come over, it seemed a waste not to.
Not that he cared about dusty architraves. The only cobwebs he seemed interested in clearing away were mine.
After a similar interaction to last night’s (except that Thomas nimbly used his fingers instead of a vibrator), again, I willingly succumbed to his expert touch. I was surprised that I felt so comfortable with him, or maybe it was because I knew I couldn’t get hurt. My heart belonged to someone else. Even if he could manipulate my body in pleasurable ways, love was always going to be off-limits.
After pulling on his boxer briefs and using the bathroom, Thomas walked around my bedroom, looking at things, while I lay in bed with the sheet pulled over me. I watched him trace the titles on the bookshelf, finger the midnight-blue silk runner with silver stars covering the dresser, and pick up my cat ornament and peer closely at it. I twitched a little, not used to having someone inspect my personal stuff. Eventually, he sat on the side of the bed. I wondered if I should provide tea, coffee, or juice now the deed was done.
‘Do you live alone?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘How come?’
‘I prefer it. Do you?’ I hadn’t thought to ask him before.
‘No, I have a flatmate.’
‘Oh. Guy or girl?’
‘Guy. I don’t see him much. He usually stays at his girlfriend’s place.’
‘Ah.’
He looked at me and chewed his bottom lip. ‘Should I go? I mean, I don’t want to. But if I’m in the way ...’
I hitched the sheet higher. ‘You don’t have to go. We can chat as well as ... the other, surely.’
‘True. Fancy a cuppa? I’ll make it.’
‘OK, yes, thanks.’
‘How do you have it? Let me guess—white, no sugar.’
‘Actually, white with half a sugar.’
He snapped his fingers. ‘I’ll have to remember that.’
I wondered how many cups of tea he was planning on making for me during our short acquaintance.
Lying there listening to the sound of him humming in the kitchen as he sorted the tea was quite soothing. I thought I should probably get dressed or at least put my knickers on, but I couldn’t be bothered. My limbs and other bits felt lovely and relaxed after his attention.
Thomas brought in two mugs of steaming tea and went to place mine on top of Mercy’s memoir, which was on my bedside table.
‘Don’t put it on there!’ I screeched, flinging out an arm to stop him.
‘Wow, OK.’ Thomas stood there holding the tea, looking startled.
I snatched the green book up from the table and held it to my chest. ‘Sorry, it’s just really old, from an archive. A hot mug of tea on the binding would be extremely damaging. You need to put on white gloves to even read it.’
Thomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘If it’s so old, why have you got it here in the first place? Shouldn’t it be at your office?’
‘I’m kind of doing a private reading. It’s OK. I’m being careful with it.’ I opened my bedside drawer, pulled on a pair of white gloves, and put on my owl-rimmed glasses.
Thomas groaned.
‘What?’
‘You look like a hot librarian.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Whatever. Now listen, this is what’s happened to Mercy so far. It’s fascinating.’
I filled Thomas in on the backstory while he sat on the bed next to me with his legs crossed at the ankles, sipping tea.
‘So what’s this guy Jasper’s deal?’
‘I don’t know. But now he’s invited her to dinner, and she got all excited about it, but it’s a mean trick. He’s turned up with this awful woman, Arabella, instead ...’