B007XKEWAE EBOK (3 page)

She turned to face Fulton and he felt his heart catch in his chest. Her eyes pierced his soul and there was something like a predatory gleam behind them. Fulton’s body started to react at the dark promise behind that gaze. She licked her lips and stepped closer to him. The scent of her perfume provoked his nostrils. His head swam as he felt heat wash over him.

"I didn't invite you to come with me because I needed a jacket," she whispered.

Fulton was about to speak when Francesca put a finger to his lips. At that moment the lift arrived and Francesca pulled him inside by the front of his shirt.

She pressed the button for her floor and the lift moved up after the doors slid closed. Francesca tumbled into him as the lift jerked into motion. Her arms wrapped around his body. She tilted her head back to look into his eyes and Fulton
had
to lower his lips to hers.

They were still kissing when the lift stopped and the doors opened. Francesca capered around him and drew him along after her. They entered her flat and she smiled at him enticingly.

"I'm afraid that there isn't time for us to get back to your friends before midnight," she said mock apologetically with a mischievous little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and large chocolate eyes.

"They'll manage without me," Fulton replied, looking at his watch. It was less than ten minutes to twelve. He couldn't work out where the time had gone.

"If you want to see them you can go out on the balcony. If you yell they might hear you and you can still see the New Year in together." She tossed him a can of lager and showed him to the ledge.

They were six floors up but Fulton scanned the crowd for his friends. Francesca sidled up beside him and put her arm around his waist. Fulton was having no luck spotting the others. There
were just too many bodies down there for him to locate three individuals who might not be stood together.

"Over there," Francesca said pointing.

Fulton looked where she indicated and sure enough there they were. Fulton pulled out his telephone and keyed in Karl's number again. He watched his friend answer and told him where to look. He saw Karl talk to the other two and all three started casting around.

It was Dylan who eventually noticed the pair waving on the balcony and he gave the other two a nudge. Lewis took the phone from Karl's hand.

"And what have you been up to you naughty boy?" he said doing his best to sound like a puritan.

"Ye'all are condemning yourselves to hellfire and eternal damnation," he drawled impersonating a preacher from one of the southern United States, complete with a ridiculous attempt at a southern American accent.

Fulton smiled as he said. "You just wish it was you up here."

"Not at all," Lewis replied. "Not that I wouldn't, mind you. But I prefer the ladies of a somewhat blonder persuasion rather than the brunette babes. I can't be doing with having to worry if they might have brains as well as looks. Besides I got that blonde's phone number and we're going to meet up tomorrow."

Fulton heard Dylan say "Two minutes to go," in the background.

When it got to eleven-fifty-nine the crowd started counting down from sixty.
Others came out onto their own balconies in the surrounding blocks and chanted along with the countdown.

They had reached thirty when Fulton turned to Francesca and said "You don't seem terribly excited."

"I've seen plenty of new years," she said but when they reached ten she joined in with them all.

The countdown reached zero with raucous cries of happy New Year all around. Lewis, Dylan and Karl crowded around and shouted down the phone at Fulton who shouted right back toasting them with his can. The blonde girl went over to Lewis and kissed him fully much to his friends' amusement. Francesca took Fulton by the waist of his trousers and pulled him inside. He blushed involuntarily when he heard whistles and
cries of "Go on, son," before he flipped closed the cover of his mobile and severed the connection.

Francesca drew him along and pushed him down into a plush settee. She twirled away and stopped on the other side of the room. She hit the play button on a stereo and an Irish woman's voice sounded from the speakers, it might have been something by the Corrs but Fulton wasn't sure. Francesca pirouetted back towards him. Leaning forwards she rested her hands on his knees and they kissed.

Fulton put his arms around Francesca and pulled her on top of him. She clutched him with her own arms and with surprising strength, she dragged Fulton along with her and tumbled to the carpeted floor. Francesca moved her
hands over his chest and pulled his shirt up out of his trousers to run her nails over his skin. She was lying on top of him and she pressed her body against his, gyrating erotically.

They caressed and rolled around the carpet. Francesca had Fulton's shirt off in no time and licked around his pecks. Fulton had his own hands running over Francesca's shapely frame.

"Do you work out?" Francesca ask
ed between running her
tongue over his muscles.

Fulton struggled to keep enough of his breath from escaping in gasps to respond. "I do a few martial arts. Keep myself in shape and able to look after myself, you know."

After a couple of minutes, with the two now smouldering, Francesca pushed
herself up and gave Fulton a mischievous wink.

"I'll be back in a second," she said heading for the bathroom.

"I'm not going anywhere," Fulton replied breathless with passion.

He watched her walking away and she wiggled her hips as she noticed him watching.

Fulton pushed himself up and walked over towards the bathroom himself. He looked in on the bedroom. Saw pressed white sheets and matching curtains but little else. This matched the Spartan furnishings of the rest of her flat. The living room contained a pair of settees a small table and a stereo on a shelf next to some CD's. A modest television sat in one of the corners. There were no photographs, ornaments or other
decorations around. There was none of the usual array of paraphernalia people used to turn a house into a home.

Fulton looked across the hall and saw the bathroom door remained open. Inside Francesca stood with her head over a basin of water, splashing the liquid on her face washing away makeup. On the wall above the sink were the remains of a broken mirror. It was cracked in a spiral pattern, like someone had punched it in the centre.

Francesca raised her head and dried her face off with a plain towel. She still looked rather pale even under the indoor lights. Fulton was going to ask her if she was all right when he noticed her reflection in the shattered mirror. Instead of her exquisite image, the reflection appeared as an abhorrent mask. Her
mouth contorted to admit long pointed fangs. Her eyes were malformed under a thick sloping brow that met an upturned nose with flaring nostrils. Looking at her almost in profile Fulton could see that Francesca's face didn't match that reflected back from the mirror.

"How do you do that?" Fulton said.

The eyes in the mirror moved and locked on him. Francesca growled and turned to face him. As she turned her face morphed and contorted so that it matched the countenance he had seen in the mirror.

"I didn't think you were a shallow person," Francesca said. "Were you only after me for my looks?"

Fulton faltered and just remained staring at, whatever he was staring at.

"Why can't people look beyond appearance and see what's on the inside?" she continued.

Fulton regained his voice. "I think it's what's on the inside that put me off this time," he said.

"Ooh. You've got fire. I like that in a man. Come on lover boy why don't we finish what we started?" She shook her head and her features melted back to their beautiful shape. She raised her hand and Fulton felt his gaze drawn up with it to her eyes.

With a huge effort and tremendous force of will that was so difficult it caused him physical pain Fulton tore his eyes away and ran from the room. He might know some martial arts but he wasn't about to test them against
that
. He didn't stop to retrieve his shirt or coat, so he ran
out into the cold night air topless. The lift doors were already open on this floor and Fulton barrelled inside hammering the button for the ground floor. The doors seemed to take an eternity to slide closed and Fulton expected to see Francesca appear at any moment.

The lift started to move down. The indicator said it was on the third floor when a thud shook the tiny box. Something heavy had landed on the roof. Fulton looked up as the lift passed the second floor. There was a crash and a fist punched through the back left corner of the roof. The hand groped around, taking hold of the broken corner it started tugging the metal away. Peeling the roof back like a foil lid on microwave food,
now that wasn’t a pleasant thought
. Fulton backed into the opposite corner
and hammered some more on the lowest button, as if it would make the lift travel any faster.

A hole almost wide enough for Francesca, the whatever she was, to fit through had been opened by the time the doors opened again. Fulton hit the highest numbered button he could see before darting out. He didn't wait to see the doors close before he ran out of the block. He stumbled on the kerb of the road and got his feet tangled in some discarded paper streamers.

The alcohol and shock to his system at seeing what he had seen had totally destroyed his sense of direction. He couldn't remember which way he had came from the square. But he knew if he could get back there where there were plenty of people he would be safe. He
had no time to stand around deciding which direction to go so he ran off to the left. If he took the next left after that he should be heading around the other side of the block and that was roughly where the square was. At least he thought it was.

Fulton hazarded a glance over his right shoulder but there was no sign of his pursuer. Fulton's feet kicked up dirty rain water from numerous puddles but the rain that had stopped earlier had yet to return. The needed branch off to the left came and he turned down it.

There she was, waiting for him halfway down the street. The celebrations in the square could be seen in the background but there was too much noise for anyone to hear if Fulton called out. Not that he could think of
anything to shout that wouldn't make him sound like some mad drunk or druggie.

He faltered to a halt before turning on his heels and fleeing back out of the street. He ran straight on over the road not caring about the risk of being hit by a late-night traveller. He just wanted out of this mess. Fulton tried to loose himself in a series of side streets. Ducking aside he ran into another block of flats. One of the third floor flats had the door open and Fulton saw signs of a party inside. Techno music filtered down to his ears and different coloured lights pulsed in time with the rhythm. Running past the lift with a grubby out of order sign, Fulton pounded up the stairs. Covered in graffiti and smelling vaguely of urine Fulton knew he was heading into one of the less prosperous neighbourhood blocks.

His breath coming in ragged gasps and his thighs burning, he passed the second floor. Fulton was turning around the corner to take the last flight of steps when he ran into Francesca again. He bounced back as she stood her ground and had the wind knocked out of him. Impossibly strong hands fixed themselves on his bare shoulders.

Fulton lifted his chin up to stare his captor down. Maybe to spit in her face. His malicious intentions fell away when he looked into her rich coffee eyes. All thought of fight or flight drained out of his body and not even the memory of it remained with him.

Francesca raked her nails exquisitely over his naked chest. She let one of her hands trail lower down and Fulton let out a gasp of pleasure. She
guided his hands to her own form as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers loose. Fulton fumbled with the catch at the neck of her dress and she shrugged the garment off.

Lowering her head Francesca put her lips to the side of his neck. He let out a moan of pleasure as her teeth broke the skin. Dizzying desire and gratification pulsed through him as his life was drained. Francesca pulled away and sliced into the skin above her left breast with her own nail and pushed his head down to the bloody wound. He lapped gladly at the congealing viscous fluid.

Her hold on him was the only thing keeping him vertical as all strength left him. She enveloped him in her embrace and their bodies were pressed intimately together. Fulton was pushed between a
concrete wall and Francesca's flesh. Both were equally cool against his skin. Fulton let his hands discover all of Francesca's form while she reached down again, guiding that part of him so that he could enter her.

             
"Oh sorry," a female voice gave an embarrassed giggle.

"You should get a room," this was the young woman's partner speaking.
             

Francesca released him and Fulton slipped boneless to the floor.

"And who are you to tell me what to do?" Francesca said.

It was too much of an effort for Fulton to keep his eyes open. He just leaned the back of his head on the rough concrete wall where he was slumped. He
let the lids of his eyes just droop down and listened to the encounter.