terms
from Florence. But maybe they'd been symptomatic of a
struggle with sexuality.
Piers seemed unoffended. I suppose, looking the way he
did, all hair and rings and androgynously sexy, it must be
something he got asked a lot. "No. I'm not. There is
someone, but it's all kinda difficult at the moment, you
know?"
I stood beside him and together we looked out of the
window. "Life, eh?" But I had to admit that he made me feel a
tiny bit better; he might be beautiful and well connected, but
he still wasn't happy. I could manage to be miserable without
any of those advantages. "Better get home. Grainger's been a
bit off-colour lately and he's not too hot with the litter tray, so
I don't like to be late."
"You won't come for a drink, then? Maybe some food, say
thanks for coming to look at this place?"
"Wellll, all right, Grainger can cross his little furry legs for
a bit longer. But you are absolutely not to order any wine,
okay?"
"Yes, ma'am ." Piers executed a very smart salute. His
mood seemed to have switched from forlorn to cheerful in
nanoseconds.
"And we can only go somewhere that won't mind my
jeans, I haven't got anything to change into. Oh, and Piers,
have you got anything to put on over that T-shirt?"
"Yes, ma'am, sure thing, ma'am. Why?"
105
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
"Oh, nothing, it's just that every time you move it's
distracting."
"Yeah?" Slowly and deliberately Piers stretched his arms
upwards, straightening out his spine and rolling his shoulders
backwards, until his T-shirt moved up his torso, over the
waistband of his jeans revealing, inch by inch, bare flesh
studded with dark hair.
"Piers, you are such a poser." I turned away quickly so he
wouldn't see that I was enjoying the show. "Come on, stop
flaunting yourself and let's go."
"Sure thing." Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Piers led
the way out of the flat. We ate in an Italian restaurant and
chatted until they closed the place around us. I was surprised
by just how much I enjoyed myself.
Next morning I woke up with the feeling that I'd done
something I ought to regret. I padded out of the bedroom
with my towel, heading for the bathroom. At least it was early
enough that I could have a shower before work.
As I passed Florrie's bedroom door, I heard Grainger give
one of his plaintive murp 's on the far side of it. Somehow,
and I could be almost positive I'd left the door open, Grainger
had become shut in.
I flicked the door and Grainger ran through my legs. To
check that he hadn't already downloaded last night's Whiskas
onto Florrie's duvet, I put my head around the door, only to
pull it back so fast that I nearly got friction burns from the air
molecules.
Piers. His T-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the floor,
the boots he'd worn were propped up near the door. He was
106
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
sprawled face down, and very obviously naked, across
Florence's bed.
Oh bloody hell. Now I remembered what I'd done. Piers
and I had been laughing hysterically coming up the stairs,
recreating a scene from an old TV sketch show that we'd both
treasured. He'd asked if he could stay over to save himself
the drive home, and I, desperate for the loo and the comfort
of my duvet, had agreed.
I peered cautiously into the bedroom again. I was so used
to seeing Florrie, duvet tucked up to her chin, that seeing
Piers angled, arms above his head, one leg bent and the
duvet—well, it certainly wasn't covering much of his body, put
it that way—was very strange. As I watched he stirred, one
hand twitched and he made to roll over, at which I withdrew
very smartly and went and had a very noisy shower. With
singing. There was going to be absolutely no chance of him
still being spread-eagled nude when I came out of that
bathroom.
[Back to Table of Contents]
107
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
Chapter Fourteen
I sat on the Exeter train opposite a man who was clearly
very
from Florence. But maybe they'd been symptomatic of a
struggle with sexuality.
Piers seemed unoffended. I suppose, looking the way he
did, all hair and rings and androgynously sexy, it must be
something he got asked a lot. "No. I'm not. There is
someone, but it's all kinda difficult at the moment, you
know?"
I stood beside him and together we looked out of the
window. "Life, eh?" But I had to admit that he made me feel a
tiny bit better; he might be beautiful and well connected, but
he still wasn't happy. I could manage to be miserable without
any of those advantages. "Better get home. Grainger's been a
bit off-colour lately and he's not too hot with the litter tray, so
I don't like to be late."
"You won't come for a drink, then? Maybe some food, say
thanks for coming to look at this place?"
"Wellll, all right, Grainger can cross his little furry legs for
a bit longer. But you are absolutely not to order any wine,
okay?"
"Yes, ma'am ." Piers executed a very smart salute. His
mood seemed to have switched from forlorn to cheerful in
nanoseconds.
"And we can only go somewhere that won't mind my
jeans, I haven't got anything to change into. Oh, and Piers,
have you got anything to put on over that T-shirt?"
"Yes, ma'am, sure thing, ma'am. Why?"
105
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
"Oh, nothing, it's just that every time you move it's
distracting."
"Yeah?" Slowly and deliberately Piers stretched his arms
upwards, straightening out his spine and rolling his shoulders
backwards, until his T-shirt moved up his torso, over the
waistband of his jeans revealing, inch by inch, bare flesh
studded with dark hair.
"Piers, you are such a poser." I turned away quickly so he
wouldn't see that I was enjoying the show. "Come on, stop
flaunting yourself and let's go."
"Sure thing." Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Piers led
the way out of the flat. We ate in an Italian restaurant and
chatted until they closed the place around us. I was surprised
by just how much I enjoyed myself.
Next morning I woke up with the feeling that I'd done
something I ought to regret. I padded out of the bedroom
with my towel, heading for the bathroom. At least it was early
enough that I could have a shower before work.
As I passed Florrie's bedroom door, I heard Grainger give
one of his plaintive murp 's on the far side of it. Somehow,
and I could be almost positive I'd left the door open, Grainger
had become shut in.
I flicked the door and Grainger ran through my legs. To
check that he hadn't already downloaded last night's Whiskas
onto Florrie's duvet, I put my head around the door, only to
pull it back so fast that I nearly got friction burns from the air
molecules.
Piers. His T-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the floor,
the boots he'd worn were propped up near the door. He was
106
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
sprawled face down, and very obviously naked, across
Florence's bed.
Oh bloody hell. Now I remembered what I'd done. Piers
and I had been laughing hysterically coming up the stairs,
recreating a scene from an old TV sketch show that we'd both
treasured. He'd asked if he could stay over to save himself
the drive home, and I, desperate for the loo and the comfort
of my duvet, had agreed.
I peered cautiously into the bedroom again. I was so used
to seeing Florrie, duvet tucked up to her chin, that seeing
Piers angled, arms above his head, one leg bent and the
duvet—well, it certainly wasn't covering much of his body, put
it that way—was very strange. As I watched he stirred, one
hand twitched and he made to roll over, at which I withdrew
very smartly and went and had a very noisy shower. With
singing. There was going to be absolutely no chance of him
still being spread-eagled nude when I came out of that
bathroom.
[Back to Table of Contents]
107
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
Chapter Fourteen
I sat on the Exeter train opposite a man who was clearly
very
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