hand against the wall behind his head and dips her head so she can kiss him. If they shower together it will save time and she can drop Jeremy back at his flat before the rush hour traffic begins, unless he insists on travelling back there by bicycle in which case she can probably have sex with him again and still have enough time to pop into Marks & Spencer to pick up something for her dinner.
Jane’s boyfriend Philippe Noir has square feet with a high instep. His fingers are rectangular. His hands, like his feet, are slightly moist, even in the cold weather. He has full lips, which is supposed to be an indication of sensuality, although he displays none of this when in bed with Jane. When they first spent time together, Jane would bring pots of strawberry fromage frais or vanilla ice cream to bed and leave them where they were easily to hand in case Philippe should feel the urge to slather her body with it and flick it away with his thick pink tongue. He preferred to finish eating the food – one spoon for you, one for me; he has always been fair about sharing it – while she grasped his cock and said ‘umm’ a lot to get him in the mood.
Philippe likes to keep abreast of developments in the competitive docu-soap world and schedules their love-making so that there is plenty of time to sit up in bed, find his designer glasses with thick rectangular frames wherever he has discarded them, and switch on the TV for the next edition of a rival’s work. The thing about Philippe is that he doesn’t really have to try very hard as he has a good job and could always get another girlfriend if he wanted one.
Since Jeremy insists on getting himself home on his bicycle this afternoon, Jane has enough time to have sex with him again. She lies him on the floor, ties him to the wooden feet of the bed by the wrists with a pair of her knickers (she makes a kind of slip knot with the leg holes), tucks a cushion under his arse so he doesn’t get carpet burns, and tips some of the most delicious contents of her freezer over his body and licks it off. Jane often eats in restaurants with friends so there isn’t much to choose from but she manages to take Jeremy through the full range of emotions using a tub of frozen blackberry yoghurt, a bottle of frozen but still viscous Absolut vodka and a tray of ice cubes. He wobbles a little unsteadily on his bicycle when the time comes to leave, but whether this is due to the alcohol or the sex, Jane couldn’t say.
Chapter Twenty-One ~ Wind Chimes
Sheila wakes groggily to a terrible thumping sound. She is not sure at first whether there is someone at the door or whether the noise is inside her head. Since Roy ’s disappearance she has been suffering from headaches. Unless she rests, the headaches get worse and eventually she has to close her eyes to bright lights and spots of colour that she sees jumping across her vision, even though she knows they are not there. Her sister would say it is stress.
‘Sheila?’ Her sister is at the door now, calling her name. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. The woman has fists of steel. ‘Sheila?’ Bang, bang, bang, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Bang, bang, bang.
Sheila waits until her sister has gone. The phone starts to ring but she doesn’t answer it. Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . After five rings it rolls over onto the answer machine.
Sheila gets out of bed and checks the message, in case it is not from her sister. It is, though. Above her head, on the table where she keeps the phone, there hangs an unusual wind chime made from re-cycled cutlery that she bought recently from Covent Garden Market. When the tines of the forks strike against the bowls of the spoons and the blades of the knives, there is a very pretty ‘ding’ sound.
It is rare that a breeze stirs within Sheila’s flat as she prefers to keep her windows closed against the traffic noise. However, the primary purpose of the contraption is
Jane’s boyfriend Philippe Noir has square feet with a high instep. His fingers are rectangular. His hands, like his feet, are slightly moist, even in the cold weather. He has full lips, which is supposed to be an indication of sensuality, although he displays none of this when in bed with Jane. When they first spent time together, Jane would bring pots of strawberry fromage frais or vanilla ice cream to bed and leave them where they were easily to hand in case Philippe should feel the urge to slather her body with it and flick it away with his thick pink tongue. He preferred to finish eating the food – one spoon for you, one for me; he has always been fair about sharing it – while she grasped his cock and said ‘umm’ a lot to get him in the mood.
Philippe likes to keep abreast of developments in the competitive docu-soap world and schedules their love-making so that there is plenty of time to sit up in bed, find his designer glasses with thick rectangular frames wherever he has discarded them, and switch on the TV for the next edition of a rival’s work. The thing about Philippe is that he doesn’t really have to try very hard as he has a good job and could always get another girlfriend if he wanted one.
Since Jeremy insists on getting himself home on his bicycle this afternoon, Jane has enough time to have sex with him again. She lies him on the floor, ties him to the wooden feet of the bed by the wrists with a pair of her knickers (she makes a kind of slip knot with the leg holes), tucks a cushion under his arse so he doesn’t get carpet burns, and tips some of the most delicious contents of her freezer over his body and licks it off. Jane often eats in restaurants with friends so there isn’t much to choose from but she manages to take Jeremy through the full range of emotions using a tub of frozen blackberry yoghurt, a bottle of frozen but still viscous Absolut vodka and a tray of ice cubes. He wobbles a little unsteadily on his bicycle when the time comes to leave, but whether this is due to the alcohol or the sex, Jane couldn’t say.
Chapter Twenty-One ~ Wind Chimes
Sheila wakes groggily to a terrible thumping sound. She is not sure at first whether there is someone at the door or whether the noise is inside her head. Since Roy ’s disappearance she has been suffering from headaches. Unless she rests, the headaches get worse and eventually she has to close her eyes to bright lights and spots of colour that she sees jumping across her vision, even though she knows they are not there. Her sister would say it is stress.
‘Sheila?’ Her sister is at the door now, calling her name. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. The woman has fists of steel. ‘Sheila?’ Bang, bang, bang, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Bang, bang, bang.
Sheila waits until her sister has gone. The phone starts to ring but she doesn’t answer it. Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . Ring ring . After five rings it rolls over onto the answer machine.
Sheila gets out of bed and checks the message, in case it is not from her sister. It is, though. Above her head, on the table where she keeps the phone, there hangs an unusual wind chime made from re-cycled cutlery that she bought recently from Covent Garden Market. When the tines of the forks strike against the bowls of the spoons and the blades of the knives, there is a very pretty ‘ding’ sound.
It is rare that a breeze stirs within Sheila’s flat as she prefers to keep her windows closed against the traffic noise. However, the primary purpose of the contraption is
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