Erotic Refugees (10 page)

Kajsa’s sliding hand also
reached its destination, sending an intense burst of pleasure
through Rob. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her
feet. She kissed him hard, shoving him up against the wall and
knocking over one of the chairs with a clatter. Robs shifted his
hand inside her top, then down the back of her loose skirt, bending
over a little so he could keep on moving down and around.

Kajsa groaned. She kissed him
hard, practically a bite, and dragged him to the other room where
they fell in a heap on the sofa, kicking and pulling at clothes
until most of them were off, or out of the way, or simply
ignored.

Kajsa flopped down beside him
with her back pressed against his mostly naked body. As Rob's hands
slid around her she grabbed one of them and shoved where she
thought it should go. She muttered something and parted her thighs,
and Rob was pretty sure what was required of him, and happily
provided it. He could not help a groan of his own as he closed his
eyes and sunk into her.

Kajsa made the neh neh neh
sound she only produced when especially excited. It was deliciously
familiar to Rob, like the tang of her sweat and the perfect fit of
their bodies. He moved urgently and she grabbed his buttock with
one hand, pressing even deeper into her. Rob bit at his lip until
he was sure there was blood there. He held his body back, pressing
down, holding his focus.

Kajsa's final neh! lengthened
into a shrill whine and Rob, who was waiting for this moment with
keen interest, allowed his body to do what it so badly wanted to.
As Kajsa stiffened he cupped her breasts, gritted his teeth and
kept the motion going for a good many seconds longer. His vision
sparkled on the edges with tiny white stars and he spat out a huge
grunt of relief.

Rob inhaled a gulp of air and
lay back on the sofa, suddenly remembering why he came to Kajsa's
place so often. She rolled over, panting, and lay beside him, a
tight fit on the narrow sofa. Her heart hammered against him while
her hand wandered once more and did a lazy circuit of his pubic
hair. Sunlight sparkled from a cluster of crystals hanging in the
window, and Rob wondered how many neighbours had seen it all
through the wide-open curtains. The thought made him grin.

“
You know what I have in
the fridge?” Kajsa said after a while. She sat up, reached for the
bathrobe hanging on a chair and pulled it on.

Rob propped his hands behind
his head. “An ex-lover's head?”

She ignored that. “Here, I can
show you.” She made her way to the kitchen, with her bathrobe
mostly open. Rob heard the fridge opening, and then heard her feet
slapping on the wooden floor as she returned with something that,
for a brief terrifying moment, did actually appear to be a
head.

But he knew he needn't worry
any more. Kajsa was fine, everything was cool between them. All
back to normal.

“
It's lamb, I bought it
today! I was going to fix it for Sunday, but I thought I can do it
now instead, won't take more than a couple of hours.”

Rob's gaze shifted from the
lamb to Kajsa and back again. Go on, a tiny voice said in the
depths of his head, hang out with the girl for once. Lamb is very
nice, after all, and she's not that bad, is she? You could do a lot
worse.

But the cold stone walls of
Malone’s were calling loud and strong, and if he showed too much
interest in Kajsa, maybe she'd start to get those … ideas.

“
Not tonight Kajsa. I
mean, it's really nice of you, and I do like a bit of lamb, but I
have to get back home and—”

“
Oh fucking damn it,
Rob!” She slammed the frozen leg of lamb to the floor where it made
an impressively loud boom. She dashed to the kitchen, slammed
something there and returned with, oddly enough, a slip of paper.
She slapped it down on the coffee table and punched Rob on the
shoulder, nodding at it.

Rob sat up, feeling more naked
than he liked, and unfolded the note. On it he read: “If Rob tries
to fuck me and leave right after I will throw him out. For
good.”

Kajsa glared at him, with more
passion than he suspected she contained. She closed and belted her
bathrobe, with the clear indication that it would not be opened
again in a hurry.

“
Um,” Rob said, and
licked his lips. “But I thought it was cool. You know, I call you
when, you know, and you call me—”

“
I call you?” She leaned
over, her hands on her hips and her cheeks pulsing red. “When have
I ever called you for just sex, Rob? When? I have sent you a text
maybe two times—two!—to ask you to do something simple and short,
like have a walk or go to a movie, but no, not you, not Rob, you
were always too busy! Doing your important fuck-bloody
things!”

Rob, still mostly naked, was
beginning to fear for the safety of his softer parts. He stared at
her dumbly as he moved a hand slowly into a defensive position.
That done, he sat up.

“
Kajsa,” he began. And
then he realised, as pathetic as it was, that he had nothing to
follow it up with.

Kajsa spun around and stomped
back into the kitchen. At lightning speed Rob pulled on as many
items of clothing as he could find, not caring about petty details
such as socks and underwear and which way the right way around was.
Right now it was about survival, pure and simple.

When he passed the kitchen she
was there, gripping the sink with white knuckles. She didn't look
up as Rob scooped up his shoes and leather jacket.

“
Look,” he said from the
hall, but realised that was all he had to say. He stared at her
stupidly, his mind a blank. “Um…”

“
Get the hell out Rob,”
she said. “Just go.”

The way she said it—flat and
controlled—made his mind up for him. And although he knew he'd burn
for eternity if there was an eternity in which to burn, and a place
to burn in, he turned around and simply scarpered. He bolted down
the steps two at a time, with his pubic hair poking through the
open fly of his jeans. Behind him, shaking the entire building, the
door to her flat slammed shut.

Rob hurried around the corner
and leaned against the wall, red-faced and struggling for breath.
Well that was it for Kajsa then. Which was maybe for the best, as
now he could rid himself of the guilt about seeing her, and she
could get out there and find a guy who might actually want to hang
out with her.

He glanced around the corner,
just to make sure she wasn't following. He watched for a few
minutes, just to make very sure she wasn't following. She
wasn't.

In a very strange kind of mood,
Rob turned and headed home. He had walked for ten minutes before it
occurred to him to close his fly.

Malone's was hopping. Rob
didn't really know any of the people there but on Friday nights
that didn't matter. He was on a nodding basis with enough patrons
to pass the time, and somebody he knew properly was sure to show up
eventually.

He was sitting at the bar, with
a hundred-crown note raised in his hand and an expectant look on
his face, when his phone rang. He dropped the money and pulled out
the mobile. Oh. It wasn't Kajsa (which was just as well, because
she was the last person he wanted to hear from). And it wasn't Andy
or Eamonn or even Eoin. No, it was the mother of all phone calls.
It was, in fact, his mother.

Rob stared at the mobile. What
was the woman doing, calling him on a Friday? Didn't she know what
happened on Fridays? And did she realise the position she'd put him
in, calling him in a bar? Because he couldn't be seen talking to
his mother in a bar.

It would be like that day in
school when she appeared in the corridor, pushed her way through
his classmates and delivered the lunch box he'd forgotten at home.
He could still feel the creeping shame of it. No, there were no
mothers, not in schools and most definitely not in bars.

“
Can you watch that seat
for me?” he asked the lady in the denim jacket who was perched on
the next seat over. She gave him a lingering glance and a slow nod,
and Rob filed her away in his “possible shag when drunk” column
before hurrying out.

He leaned against the wall
outside Malone’s and pressed the green button.

“
Well about time,” his
mother said without an introduction. “I thought you'd never pick it
up!”

“
Ye don't pick up a
mobile,” he said, and then decided to abandon that line of
reasoning. Old dog, new tricks and all that.

“
So Robert,” she went on,
“what have you been doing with yourself lately?”

And then, before he could
answer, off she went with her morbid litany of the dead and
wounded. Rob made the standard noises of affirmation, idly scuffing
his shoe against some raised cobbles as he listened. “Huh,” he
said. “Really. Imagine that.”

But it had been a quiet month
in Caherciveen. Not many people had died, and the number of grossly
miss-formed babies was way below average. They were probably saving
it up for the autumn rush, when there'd be a ferry wreck, a ten-car
pileup, and a disease that deformed only Gaelic footballers and
very cute puppies.

“
Mmm,” Rob said to all of
it. He fished out a cigarette with one hand and lit it as quietly
as he could. “Mmm, did he now. Did he.”

Eventually she paused for
breath and Rob steeled himself, ready for his interrogation. Oddly
enough, it never came. Instead things took an unexpected turn.

“
I suppose Karen's
contacted you?”

Rob stiffened. “Um, what?
Karen?”

“
Oh Robert don't act
stupid now, she's on her way over soon, she's packed and
everything! I told her to call you, didn't she call you? She should
have by now. Just call her, won't you? Do you have her number—hold
on, here it is…”

“
Mom, I'm standin'
outside, I don't have a pen, and anyway I have her number, on my
mobile—”

But all to no avail. His mother
reeled off the numbers and Rob repeated them back to her, one by
one, consigning each one directly and uselessly to the void.

“
You have it now
Robert?”

“
Yeah, I got it.
Cheers.”

“
Good then. Well, I won't
keep you, you're probably out living it up somewhere.”

That was abrupt, her finishing
up so quickly like that. A possible reason for that occurred to
him. She must have found out that calling to a mobile in another
country cost a fair bit more than calling a landline. A handy
loophole, if ever he needed it. Onto the “remember” list it went,
right beside denim jacket lady.

“
Absolutely, I'll call
her before Monday, ye can count on it!”

She put the phone down at her
end and Rob stared at the glowing end of his cigarette. Karen was
coming here already? He hadn't even started looking for a place to
put her! Well, to be honest, he never thought she'd make it this
far, but now that she'd packed actual suitcases, it looked like
this whole thing might happen. Rob knew there was a spare mattress
in the basement, and a place for her to put her toothbrush, but
those were the full extent of his preparations.

It was terrible timing though,
right when he needed to work on the website. He'd never get a thing
done with her around, and he had to, he just had to, if he wanted
to avoid being a bloody code-monkey for the rest of his days.

Feeling he had to do something,
he sent her a quick text message.

So you're packed, on your way?
What's the story? When you arriving?

That would have to do for the
moment. He stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and straightened
his belt. Now it was time to procure that pint and see if the denim
lady was still there, and still in the mood for smiling at him.
Possibly, if things went well, from underneath. Or even above. Rob
wasn’t fussy.

Before putting the mobile away
he scanned the screen, but saw no missed calls or new messages. Not
from Eoin, or Andy, or Karen, and most definitely not from Kajsa.
He shoved the mobile into his back pocket and headed back into the
warmth and buzz of the bar.

No messages, that was fine.
Just how he liked it. It sure bloody well was.

Rob's phone beeped as he was
heading up the stairs to his apartment at two-twenty in the
morning. It was from Karen. As he read it he came to a full stop
with his feet on two different steps. He shook his head, not sure
if his confusion was due to his current state, or to the contents
of the message. So he read it again, slowly, muttering the words to
himself.

Be seeing me in few weeks.
Mother might have different ideas. Play along? If she asks about
me, put a cork in it, not lie, just play along. Please? Promise?
All fine. Cya soon!

He pressed his free hand
against the wall. Play along? How so, and with what? What
“different ideas” did she mean? And what was all that about lying
to the mother, she who should on no account be lied to?

He pulled out a cigarette and
staggered on to the door of his flat, wondering just what his
distracted sister was playing at, and how he'd manage to stay out
of the firing line if the mother found out about it.

Or, more precisely, when.

Chapter
13

Eoin sat out the last Friday of
June in the office and watched the desperate women swarming on
Diamond Date. They were really biting and Eoin had rarely felt so
popular. In a few short hours it would be the weekend and they were
all trying their best to fix a Friday evening date, just so they
could all avoid feeling like complete losers.

The Friday Frenzy was what Andy
called it. Standards were being dropped right across the board and
Eoin suddenly found himself running three simultaneous
conversations with women who all looked pretty good. It was
unprecedented, and as he worked on another mail to Majblomman02 he
wondered what they saw in him specifically to warrant this sudden
burst of pre-weekend attention.