JAMESCarrying a tray with tea all round, I find Michael and Ben in the back 'garden'. A great swathe has been cut through the tangle of briars. Both are hot and sweaty.Ben scowls as he sees me, but Michael brightens, taking a mug from the tray. "Ah great, thanks, James."Ben nods, barely polite, but takes a mug anyway.I glance up at the sun, beginning to beat through the last traces of the morning mist. "Perhaps I should have brought something cold.""Nah...." Michael waves a beer can at me. "Just had one. Not a good idea to have another while we're still waving machetes and axes around.""Have you seen Charlotte?"Michael nods back to the house. "In her room, I expect. She said something about revision for her exams."So, I go in search of my mermaid.Not in her study....She should be working. Exams next week....Where is she?She's nowhere in the house, so I wander back outside, bypassing Michael and his sour-faced brother.I don't see her at first, but
CHARLOTTENaked from the waist, I lie there, curving my arms over my head, displaying myself in the way I know he likes. For long seconds he sits, simply looking at me, his lean features gentle, the breeze ruffling his dark hair a little."I want to see all of you." His fingers tug at my buckle, easing leather from steel. The zipper rasps down, then double-handedly, he tugs at my jeans, hooking fingers into my panties as he does so, taking them too. Arching up on bare soles, I lift my hips and my clothes pull away, leaving me naked for my Master.Again, I stretch, presenting myself, pulling my waist taut. Lifting my hips and one knee a shade, I ease a thigh just a little open. Not wide, but enough to suggest........ To invite....He sits upright beside me, blinking slowly as he looks down the length of my body. One hand strokes me; from my stomach, curving over waist and breast to where the nipple nubs in the slight coolth of the breeze. With thumb and forefinger, he picks
The phone rings and Al stares at it listlessly. It could be the most uninteresting thing in the world.Relentlessly, it rings, the sound echoing from the walls of the shabby apartment.Taking a long breath, he stands, moving to the phone. He moves slowly, the clothes hanging from him."Al?""Eve?" He comes alive. "Eve? Oh, thank God. At last...."Her voice is flat. "Al, I've not called to have a conversation with you. I've called about Shelley. This isn't working. I can't cope with it anymore. She misses you and the boys and her friends too much. She wants to come back to you....""Of course she can come back. Eve.... Are you going to....?""No.... Will you take her?"*****"We'll make it work, Dad. Don't worry." David claps his father on the shoulder, looking nervous but determined. "Stephen and I both want her here. We'll do everything we can to help...." He turns to his brother. ".... Won't we?"Stephen nods decisively, a solid, comforting presence. "Absolutely.
The following day, Stephen calls Shelley. "I've got a present for you. Come and see." He takes her by the hand and she toddles with him to her bedroom. "Here you are." He points to the wall. Mounted on a card and with a hand-written tag below, Shelley's butterfly sits in its frame, protected by glass, a long pin through its thorax."Like it?" he asks. "It's still just as pretty isn't it?"She nods but looks down, her lip trembling. "I'll tell you what," he says. "I know you're still upset, about well.... Mummy going, and Daddy being poorly and everything. And I know you didn't think we'd be living in a new house, but why don't we make your bedroom all pretty too? We can make it just how you like it and then it's your special place.A smile breaks through. Looking up, "That sounds nice."*****It's a big shop. And Shelly has never been in a shop like it before. A thousand enormous tins stand on shelves, in lots and lots of different colours. She didn't know there were so many
CHARLOTTEMy Master's phone rings. He pulls it from a pocket glancing at the screen and raises brows, looking surprised."Yes, James Alexanders? Oh, hello Fiona, what can I do for you?"He listens for a moment, then frowns. "I thought I'd paid all those.... What's the reference?" Flipping open his laptop, he taps at the keyboard then peers at the screen. "Ummm.... No, I don't seem to have that one. What was it for? Oh, right, yes, no problem. Can you e-mail it across. That's right, yes. No, I'll pay it now while you're on."He snaps fingers at me, pointing over at his jacket... "Charlotte, my wallet." Pulling out the wallet, I open it to take out his card, holding it up for a second for him to see."Yes, that one."Passing the card to him, I leave him reeling off a number into his phone.But what has caught my eye, is a photo, creased and clearly old, tucked into a plastic window.The face in the photo is of a woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Dark-eyed and with a
JAMESIt's a relief to come to work. There's a lot to be said for having a senior position, people all around who understand you, work you enjoy and not constantly having some interfering bastard peering over your shoulder.I could do without all the paperwork though....I survey the pile of files, reports, applications for permission and other crap on my desk.I remember when I used to design bridges....Richard enjoys this stuff....Each to their own....I check my watch. I have a meeting on-site within twenty minutes.Would this be useful for her?I tap on my phone. "Charlotte, I'm going on-site to talk with Sam Callaghan. We'll be looking at the latest ground surveys on B-site. Do you want to come?""I'd like to, but I'm in a meeting myself. Do you need me there right now?""I can hang on for five minutes. I'll wait by the main entrance."I head for the elevator, throwing, "I'm going on-site, Francis," behind me. "I'm not expecting to be in again today.""
A figure steps down from the bus: Central Station - Barnbridge. She's a pretty girl, but she wears a dowdy print dress. In a style that was fashionable twenty years ago, now it makes the wearer look as though she is destined for spinsterhood or a life as a librarian.The girl looks around, her brilliant green eyes alight with excitement, darting here and there, picking out busy people, fashionable skirts and blouses, jeans cut low at the waist and tight at the thigh, and trendy sneakers in bright colours.Smiling delightedly, she sets out, following the crowds. A roadside stand is serving something that smells of sizzle and onions and she orders a large one, paying for it from a handful of notes curled up in a pocket. The stand owner raises a brow as he sees the money this young girl is carrying.She doesn't care. She's rich. She's never had so much money to spend. Seeing brightly lit windows and neon lights, she walks along, eating her burger. Nothing has ever tasted so good as
CHARLOTTEI'm scratching my head, writing a report for my next student assessment....Analysis of corrosion fatigue fractures in a cyclic degradation environment....The sample I'm supposed to analyse is the breechblock from the testbed in a proofing yard. It's not easy to examine because the damn thing weighs nearly twenty pounds and every time I try to move it, I end up nearly pulverising one finger or another........ when my office phone buzzes."Hello, is this Mrs Summerford? It's Kirstie down in Reception. Your brother-in-law's here for you.""Thanks. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."I can't say I'm sorry to leave the mysteries of corrosion fatigue behind. It's making my eyes water.In the lobby, Ben's waiting for me, his ass parked on the reception desk next to the new girl I'd noticed over the last few days."Hi, Champ," he says, giving me one of those smiles of his that, when he delivers them, lights up the room and makes him look a lot more like his br