20. Catriona
Twenty
Catriona
“Come’ere.” I bump my bottle of beer against Eric’s. “Have you seen Gemma lately?”
We’re in the small back garden of his parent’s two-bed townhouse, a couple of roads down from my childhood home.
It’s three days since I introduced Eric to my co-workers.
Two days since the latest incident with Rian.
I’ve tried to push that to the back of my mind.
Thinking of it only makes me confused, frustrated, angry and…
I mean, my boss made me lick his fingers!
I should find it disgusting, perverted and…
and my nipples should absolutely not harden and tingle at the thought.
Yeah, what about that ruler?
I never imagined pain could feel so good.
Never imagined giving a blow job could turn me on so much.
But it wasn’t just the act of giving the blow job – it was the way Rian controlled me, demanded it of me, punished me.
I’m a strong and independent woman – I should find it degrading.
Why does my lower abdomen tighten whenever I think of myself on my knees in front of him, him fisting my hair, deep, growling moans filling the room – growls that I caused?
And then the timbre in his tone that seemed to strum my aching nipples when he said good girl.
Yesterday – or rather, the day after the evening before – was awkward, to say the least. I found it difficult to meet Rian’s eyes, and I got the impression he was trying to avoid me.
I know it wasn’t because of what we did.
No, it was because of the moment we shared just before I left. It was too tender, too emotional.
Yesterday wasn’t any less awkward with Trevor constantly hanging over my desk, trying to ask me out.
He’s always been friendly, but it annoys me that it took seeing I have breasts under my jacket for him to show any serious interest. At least Rian didn’t approach me because of my looks or the way I dress.
After Trevor’s third attempt to ask me out, I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I don’t date colleagues.
I hope more than expect that will be the end of it.
“In fact, yes, I have seen her…” Eric’s face brightens.
“Well, go on. Do tell!” I wave my hand in front of me, trying to disperse the smoke from the BBQ that Patrick and my uncle guard as if it’s the Book of Kells.
“We may have gone for drinks yesterday…”
I know all about the date. Gemma was so excited about it that the whole office knew.
She’s asked me a hundred times if it for sure – for sure – was okay to go on a date with Eric.
I couldn’t be happier about it, but mixed with sadness knowing Eric will soon be on his way again, leaving Gemma behind.
“Right?” I prompt.
“Who is Gemma?” Mum butts in, pursing her lips while her brown eyes are open wide. Her brown shoulder-length hair dances as she moves her head back and forth between Eric and me. I’ve gotten my fair complexion, blonde hair and blue eyes from my father.
The only things I’ll ever have of him.
“Gemma who?” my aunt, Eric and Daniel’s mum, asks and coughs a little too loud.
“Ach, stop giving out,” my uncle shouts. “The smoke isn’t that bad.”
My aunt rolls her eyes behind the back of her husband, and I try to withhold a laugh. My gran isn’t as discreet, she cackles loudly from the garden chair, her beer clutched in one hand, and her other arm linked with Daniel’s.
“Whether it’s from smoke inhalation or you fellas burning the garden down, I’d say I’ll meet my husband today,” she calls out and makes the cross.
“With such lack of faith in your son, I’d say you’ll never meet Da,” my uncle counters. “You’ll end up in hell while Da is living it up in heaven.”
“You think your da is in heaven?” my gran scoffs, and I almost choke on my drink. “I could tell you stories…”
“And we don’t want to hear them,” Mum screeches. “Please let me have a good memory of my daddy, even if it is a fake one. Now back to this Gemma lass.”
I may be interested in hearing tales about my grandad, but I indulge Mum and explain, “Gemma is the girl Eric took on a date yesterday.”
“You were on a date? So that’s why you look like you haven’t slept all night but still have a grin on your face!” Mum winks.
“Alison!” my aunt gasps theatrically and slaps Mum’s arm. “Are you insinuating that my son has spent the night doing sinful things while unmarried?”
“Well, if he’s anything like his grandad…”
“MUM!” both Mum and my uncle scream while gran chuckles in delight at having got a rise out of her children.
How I love my family. We’re probably extra close because there are so few of us – we’re not one of those big Irish families.
And also extra close as they all rallied around Mum twenty-four years ago.
Choosing to raise a child as a single mum is no joke in Ireland, even these days.
Being close doesn’t mean we don’t do whatever we can to take the mickey out of each other.
And Eric is getting his share as he’s interrogated about his date.
I enjoy the ribbing until Mum asks, “So where did you meet this Gemma girl?”
“She’s one of Cat’s colleagues. I joined her team for a pint there the other day.”
“You were out with your colleagues?” Mum shifts her focus to me, her eyebrows raised.
“Um, yes.”
There’s a pause and I find it hard to hold her gaze. “Just be careful, Cat. You know what I always say, don’t mix work and pleasure. It can get messy.”
“I know. It was only a drink.”
“Still, be careful.”
I nod in agreement, all chastised. “I will, Ma.”
Mum takes a deep breath through her nose and forces a smile on her face. “Speaking of work, Cat, have you looked into moving to another department?”
Shit!
“I’ve made some enquiries. We’ll see if anything comes of it,” I reply evasively.
“You’re looking for a new job?” Eric asks and tilts his head to the side.
My mother answers before I have a chance. “She isn’t getting along with her new line manager. He’s a bully, if you ask me.”
My heart warms at Mum’s protectiveness, but at the same time a wave of shame washes over me.
“Is that right?” Eric’s voice has a sarcastic edge. “I’ve met her boss, and if you ask me, Catriona gives as good as she gets.”
“That’s my girl!” Mum pats my arm. “Don’t let anyone walk all over you!”
My cheeks heat and guilt sours my stomach.
Mum has always been so proud of my work ethic and drive.
If she finds out what I am doing with my boss, she’ll be so disappointed.
She’s imprinted in me, from an early age, that I should only get to where I want to be on my own achievements.
“How can you be proud of your success if it isn’t your own doing?
” she would say, and I know it all comes back to her own experience with my father.
Who was my mother’s boss. Mum thought she’d won the lottery of a fairytale future when he singled her out. It turned out to be anything but. I don’t ever want to repeat her mistakes.
A burst of flames from the grill has Daniel squealing. He jumps up from his seat and seeks refuge behind me.
“They’re burning the house down!” he screams.
“They’ve got it under control,” I reply calmly. “Look, the flame is gone already.”
My twenty-six-year-old cousin peeks nervously over my shoulder, his fingers nipping at my sleeves.
“What would you do if they lost control of the flames?” I continue.
“I would walk calmly out and not run,” he instantly replies. We often go over emergency procedures, and I am very pleased with his answer. “And…and I would take the dartboard,” he continues.
I snort. “You would what?”
“The dartboard,” he says matter-of-factly, pointing at the well-worn board on the fence. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent with Daniel in front of it.
“Daniel, if it’s burning around you, you shouldn’t pick up anything. Just walk calmly out,” I lecture.
“I will walk calmly out. And not run. With the dartboard.” I know I’ll never win this argument, so I just laugh and pray my uncle and Patrick will keep the BBQ under control.