Eighty Days White (6 page)

‘Come, sit down,’ he added, pulling the seat next to him out. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’

He had barely looked up before one of the bartenders hurried over to take our order.

‘I’ll have a whisky sour,’ I said, feigning confidence and ignoring the look the waitress gave Leonard as she asked him if he’d like another round. She called him ‘darling’ and brushed her fingertips against his for a moment too long as she handed him back his change.

At my choice of drink he had raised an eyebrow and tried but failed to suppress a smile. I wasn’t even sure what a whisky sour was. I’d once overheard Liana ordering one when she was out on a date with a third-year student that I knew she had been trying to impress in her own, nonchalant way. It had arrived with a bright red cherry floating on the top of the glass and I remembered how inviting Liana’s mouth had looked as she had taken the sugared cherry between her lips and pulled the stalk off with her fingertips. The third-year student hadn’t stood a chance.

I hoped that I might be able to mimic a similar effect, but
when the drink I arrived I was too shy to attempt to be sexy and just left the cherry floating like a lost buoy.

Our knees brushed as I hoisted myself onto the bar stool. I always felt so small sitting up high, like a child with my feet dangling in mid-air a foot or two off the ground. Leonard was easily over six foot and lounging comfortably.

‘Would you prefer to sit on one of the couches?’ he asked politely as I squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

‘Sure,’ I replied breezily, eyeing the sofas with some trepidation. Two enormous leather monstrosities sat in the front of the bar area, with a sleek glass table the size of a small island between them.

Leonard picked up his jacket and folded it over his arm. I lost my balance briefly as I tried to stretch my leg out to reach the floor and he caught me by the elbow as I almost fell against him.

‘Not accustomed to whisky?’ he asked as he pulled me upright.

‘Not accustomed to bar stools,’ I replied. ‘I prefer to sit closer to the ground.’

There was an awkward moment when we reached the couches and it became apparent that we could not sit either on opposite ends or on opposite sofas, as both of those options would put us so far apart we would need to shout or have a conversation in semaphore. Instead we would have to sit directly alongside each other with the rounded edges of the cushions pushing us even closer together, practically snuggling like a real couple.

From this angle I was able to study his profile. Square jaw, not a hint of stubble, and a recent nick from shaving that I felt a sudden desire to press my lips against. He had
the slightest flecks of grey hair running down behind his ears and in the lock that fell stubbornly over his forehead. It occurred to me that he was older than Liana’s father. Her parents had been teenagers when they had her. I was glad that my parents had me late, and my own father was in his late fifties so at least I did not have that comparison in my mind’s eye.

‘How was America?’ I asked him.

‘Fine,’ he replied. ‘The travelling isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. The inside of chain hotels is the same the world over.’

We continued to make small talk and he quizzed me about my life in London and how I had ended up in the city working in a music shop after growing up as I had in suburban Berkshire. Eventually I found myself relaxing and opening up to him in a way that I hadn’t before with anyone else.

Leonard was a good listener. And it made a nice change from most of the men I dated who talked endlessly about themselves. Partly, I knew that was my fault as I had a habit of encouraging others to talk to draw attention away from myself, but it was still nice to speak to someone who was actually interested in me. The real me. Not my bad-girl exterior or the good girl that was hidden beneath it, but the whole package: Lily. He was the first person I’d met who didn’t ask me about any of my tattoos. Few things annoyed me more than being asked what my teardrop tattoo meant and why I had got it.

Afterwards, I realised with a sharp stab of shame that he had barely talked at all, other than to ask me questions. I had nattered on all evening.

Briefly, as we wound down for the night, I thought he might ask me up to a room that he might have booked in anticipation of bedding me, but instead he volunteered to walk me to the Tube. He first offered to pay for a taxi, but I told him that I enjoyed walking through the city at night, so instead he escorted me to Tottenham Court Road station and kissed me goodbye on the cheek. He laid a hand gently on my waist as he did so.

I waved goodbye with a skip in my step. Walking away from him, it occurred to me that our evening had left me feeling lighter, as though some burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Someone understood me at last.

As soon as I arrived home, I emailed him. I was afraid that if I waited any longer, I would lose my nerve.

So nice to see you. Shall we do it again soon?

He was only in London for two more evenings, so we met up again the very next night. This time he took me to dinner in Chinatown, and we ate honey-glazed spare ribs and crispy fried seaweed in a restaurant on the corner of Newport Place and Lisle Street. We stayed until all of the other tables were empty and the waiters seemed on the verge of throwing us out. Once we’d worked our way through the extensive menu we ordered more and more bottles of beer.

By my third or fourth (or was it my fifth?) Asahi, I was simultaneously merry and depressed. Leonard would shortly be taking a flight to another international destination and I would be left to my ordinary life in London without him. He would only be gone for a week, to a conference in
Berlin. But still, the differences between us and the fact that our relationship was so odd and so far physically unconsummated meant that Leonard was like a butterfly in my hand. If I closed my eyes for a moment, I might open them again to find he had disappeared entirely. The thought made me blue.

The bill was presented between two fortune cookies. His was empty. Mine just said,
Stop searching.

‘What on earth does that mean?’ I said.

‘I think the waiters just didn’t like us,’ he laughed. ‘You’re not superstitious, are you, sensible Miss Lily?’

‘I’m not very superstitious. But I’m not always sensible, either.’ I screwed up the piece of paper with its italic font and tossed it into my bag.

A chill was in the air as we stepped out onto the narrow cobbled street with its rows of red flags and lanterns winking in the darkness. I huddled into the collar of my biker jacket.

He hadn’t brought a coat along and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets to keep them warm.

I leaned towards him, and took one of his hands in mine.

‘Shall we?’ I said, stepping off the kerb with my hand linked with his, as if this added contact was nothing.

We walked like that through Soho, past the sex shops and the parade of coffee bars and noisy clubs, and briefly I thought of Liana and wondered what she would say when I eventually confided in her about Leonard. Until then I would hold this moment, and his hand, tight, like a secret.

His whole body tightened when I kissed him.

‘Oh, Lily,’ he said, breaking away from me. ‘I can’t kiss you now. You might regret it in the morning.’

‘I won’t. I know that I won’t.’

I tried to kiss him again and he caught my chin in his hand.

‘Believe me. It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. More than anything.’

‘Then why not?’ I asked. I was hurt now, and rejected, and I wanted to stamp my foot.

‘You should be with someone your own age. This is crazy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have met with you again. This is my fault entirely.’

‘I don’t want someone my own age,’ I insisted. ‘I want you.’

‘Lily … Go home and sleep. Then talk to me in the morning.’

He kissed my cheek lightly and then turned and walked away.

That night I slept fitfully and not before sliding a hand under the covers and between my legs and orchestrating a blissful orgasm. Alcohol dulled my senses and always made my climaxes harder to reach, and as the wave of pleasure that I strained for seemed almost in sight but still torturously far away, I imagined Leonard’s hands caressing my breasts and his tongue rasping against my nipples and the sound of his voice whispering terrible things into my ear and the heat of his breath against my skin. I came hard, thinking of him.

In the morning I felt somehow as if he knew what I had been thinking of as I had touched myself under the sheets the night before.

I rolled over and reached for my phone to check my emails as had become my habit since we had begun corresponding. Now I looked for Leonard’s emails before I thought to do anything else, and on the rare mornings that I didn’t receive one something felt at odds, as if I was wearing shoes with no socks on underneath.

His name flashed dark in my inbox and I smiled as I clicked on the message:

?

Just a single question mark.

The images that had soothed me to sleep flashed back into my mind.

I replied.

I still want you.

And pressed send.

His reply came just a few minutes later.

Come to the hotel.

He sent a cab to pick me up and within thirty minutes I was speeding across London and towards his hotel room. I felt every eye was on me as I strode past the concierge’s desk and to the elevator, quickly stepping in and pressing the button to the fourteenth floor as Leonard had directed.

A ‘Do not Disturb’ sign was hung on the door, though it was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open and stepped inside.

Leonard was sitting in a white chair by the window, waiting for me.

‘Close the latch,’ he said. His voice was hoarse. ‘And come here.’

I did as he instructed.

‘Lily,’ he said slowly, as if my name were a benediction. I stood between his knees, facing him, and he leaned forward and traced his finger along my jaw. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ I replied.

‘That you are.’

He took me into his arms and lifted me into his lap. I nestled against his chest. Then raised my lips to his and kissed him in the way that I had been longing to since I had first set eyes on him.

His mouth was firm against mine, but his kisses were patient. He didn’t push his tongue straight down my throat in the way that the boys I kissed at university parties and nightclubs did, and neither did he begin to fumble at my bra as though my breasts might evaporate into thin air if he didn’t get a glance at them immediately.

Leonard continued to cradle me in his arms and kiss me softly until I became restless, and I took a handful of his hair in my hand, tipping his head back and biting his lower lip gently.

He pulled me away and laughed.

‘No need to be so feisty,’ he said. ‘I’m not flying out until eight tonight. We have all day.’

‘Fuck me,’ I whispered.

Last night’s climax had barely taken the edge off the deep well of desire that seemed to have been building up
inside me for a lifetime. My pussy throbbed and all I wanted was for Leonard to fill me until there wasn’t any room for anything else. I didn’t want a single thought or feeling to cross my mind besides the sensation of him deep inside me. Cock, fingers, I didn’t care.

‘Please,’ I said.

‘Be careful what you wish for. You might regret it.’

‘I won’t regret it,’ I replied firmly.

‘Oh God, Lily, the things you do to a man …’

He stood up with me still in his arms and laid me down gently on the bed.

‘But I’m not going to fuck you yet,’ he said, ‘even if you do want me to. Patience, my darling.’

I tried to sit up to pull him back towards me, but he pressed his hand against my chest and pushed me back down onto the bed. Then he was lifting up my skirt and peeling down my knickers and I forgot where I was and all the things I wanted to say as soon as his tongue flicked lightly against me and his finger slid into my pussy.

‘You’re so tight …’

‘More,’ I begged. ‘Please.’

‘All in good time,’ he replied.

Then he was lifting my T-shirt over my head. ‘Arms up,’ he instructed, as I wriggled to get out of my clothing.

He didn’t bother to unclip my bra at the back. Just pulled the cups down so that my breasts spilled out. He pulled and twisted my nipples in his fingers until I gasped.

‘Too much?’ he asked. He had curled up alongside me and was running his hands over my body, closely observing the way that I tensed or twitched or moaned in response to his caresses.

‘No, not too much, more,’ I said, and he squeezed harder.

No one had ever actually asked me what I liked or what I wanted before, and Leonard’s interest in my pleasure was extraordinarily freeing. It was also the first time that I could recall going to bed with someone in broad daylight and without a drop of alcohol to lubricate my senses and lower my inhibitions. But his obvious desire for me and his confidence must have affected both of us because I couldn’t have cared less how I looked or what Leonard thought of the things that turned me on.

He laughed when he noticed how I responded to his words.

‘You like it when I talk dirty? I never would have guessed.’

‘I love the sound of your voice,’ I replied.

It was true. Leonard could have read the newspaper out loud to me and even each syllable of the money matters section when spoken in his throaty tone with its edge of humour and hint of lasciviousness would have made me arch my back and squirm against the bedspread.

‘I want you to come for me.’

His voice deepened when he said this and his fingers found their way lower down, where he experimented until he discovered the exact rhythm that would drive me over the edge.

He leaned forward and scooped me tighter against him so that I was caught in his embrace as I began to tense and reach the cusp of an orgasm.

‘That’s it … Once you’ve come for me, Lily, I’m going to fuck you. But not before then. Do you want to feel my cock inside you, filling you up?’