Looking Out, page 13
Natasha wanted to say, Let’s just do it, get it out of the way and my thirst satisfied. She knew her need was animalistic, but, god, she wanted him inside her. It had been far too long and the angst she’d thought long suppressed was rising up at a fast rate. But she didn’t want to have them burn out too quickly, either, so did her best to quell the raging heat and frustration.
‘Come on, there’s plenty of time for that later,’ he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips, releasing her and rolling away.
She reluctantly got up and willed the hum of unresolved sexual tension to leave her by telling herself she had him to look forward to later.
‘Let’s check the place out. There are walking trails. You brought sensible shoes, didn’t you?’
‘I did. You told me to, remember?’
‘Great. Come on then,’ he said, bending down and untying his recently discarded shoes, slipping them on and retying them.
Natasha went over to her bag and retrieved her sneakers and wide sun hat.
‘Cute, got to protect that beautiful face of yours,’ Jesse said as she placed her hat on her head. He led Natasha by the hand through the empty corridor, past the reception desk and outside. ‘It’s got a great vibe, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes. Thank you so much for this,’ she said with a long sigh as she took in the rural surroundings and fresh air.
‘Thank you. So, feeling okay, then?’
‘Yep. All good. But perhaps stop asking me that; it makes me a bit jittery about the fact I am okay. If that makes any sense?’
‘Okay, duly noted,’ he said, nodding. ‘You just tell me if at any time you’re not, all right? And I’ll stop badgering you.’ He paused to turn and cup her face before kissing her briefly. They carried on walking.
Natasha allowed herself to be led at a slow stroll. What she wanted to do was skip, throw her hands in the air, twist her body around, release the unspent energy trapped inside her. Express the contentment and joy she was hoping to hold on to.
Chapter Eighteen
Having heard the doorbell, Mitchell closed the lid of the laptop with a thud and a deep sigh. He’d been having a good run but that had just ended with a steep loss. He was glad to be forced to get up and walk away, for his attention to be diverted from dwelling on it.
‘Oh, hi, Monica. Natasha isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for,’ he said, instantly lighting up inside at seeing Monica on the doorstep.
‘Oh. Okay. I just missed her at the shop. I got there right after closing time, but it’s already locked up and the lights are off. So …’
‘I’m afraid she’s not here either. Was there something particular you wanted? Can I help?’
‘No. I was out and about, and thought I’d try catching up with her.’
‘Would you like to come in? I’ll put the kettle on. Or, better yet, I’ve got a half-decent bottle of red begging to be opened.’
‘Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?’
‘Not at all. I could do with a distraction, to be honest.’
‘Okay. I won’t have any wine, but a cup of herbal tea would be lovely. Will Natasha be back soon? Is she somewhere with the girls?’ Monica said as they made their way down the long hall.
‘No, Natasha’s actually gone away for a couple of days. And the kids are off in the Barossa for a birthday weekend with friends,’ he said.
‘Oh. Right. Is that where Natasha is too?’
‘Um,’ Mitchell said, more to himself. He was glad he was leading the way and could pretend he hadn’t heard her. ‘Right, take a seat,’ he said as they entered the kitchen. He carried on to the bench that held the tea- and coffee-making accoutrements. ‘Peppermint?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Great. I think I’m actually in need of a coffee.’ Mitchell put the machine to work and was glad of the noise, which made not talking the best option. What should I say about where Natasha is? The truth? ‘Biscuits?’ he said and ducked into the pantry without waiting for Monica’s answer. He wouldn’t mind a sugar hit. He put the tin on the bench in front of his guest and took the lid off.
‘Yum, these look awesome. Did you make them?’ Monica said, putting a hand in.
‘I did. They’re oaties,’ he said.
‘Yes, I see. I love them.’
‘Great. Well, help yourself.’
‘How’s your day been?’ Monica asked after Mitchell had delivered two mugs and taken a seat. ‘How are the markets?’
‘Frustrating.’ He laughed in the hope of avoiding more discussion on the topic. ‘How did everything end up with your plumbing that other evening?’
‘Fine, thanks. All sorted. I really appreciated your offer to come and help. So, thanks again for that.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m always around, so don’t hesitate to call if you ever need any help. Any time.’
‘Thanks.’ Monica smiled at him.
He experienced a wave of affection for her. He’d always liked her – thought her quite brave for remaining single and all that entailed, which he’d never say, because that would be patronising, wouldn’t it? Previously, he’d felt protective over her, more like an elder brother, which he knew she didn’t have. Perhaps that’s why he’d subconsciously taken on that role, even if Monica wasn’t quite aware of it. But now something had shifted inside him slightly.
‘So, where’s Natasha again? Off with one of the others?’
‘No.’ Mitchell could tell by the slight rise in pitch of her voice that she was wondering if she’d been excluded from something. That was another reason he was protective over her – she’d experienced a lot of bullying in her life and was quite insecure as a result of being left out, rejected, abandoned, et cetera. Or so Natasha had told him. They’d had plenty of conversations at netball and various barbecues and the like over the years, which had sometimes become quite deep and which he’d really enjoyed, but he’d never let on that he knew of the stuff she’d been through. Now he hastened to reassure her as best he could.
‘She’s off with her new boyfriend, actually.’
Shit! The words were out before he could stop them.
‘Sorry, what?’ Monica looked genuinely shocked. Was that at him saying it or at the news of Natasha having a boyfriend? Mitchell couldn’t tell.
He took a deep breath and the time to sort out his next words. ‘Natasha and I are at a bit of a, um, crossroads. She wants more than I can give her at the moment, so she’s gone off to see if there’s anything deeper with this guy she’s met. Jesse is his name.’
‘Oh. Sorry, I’m a bit stunned. Mainly that you seem so calm about it,’ Monica said.
‘I don’t think being otherwise would help the situation – probably make it much worse, in fact.’
Monica nodded. ‘Yes. I suppose. So, is she going to move out? Are you splitting up? Are you technically separated?’ She was frowning, clearly having difficulty getting her head around the news. ‘Sorry about the barrage of questions – you don’t have to answer. I’m just being nosy. I’m a bit shocked, to be honest.’
‘It’s okay. We haven’t decided what we are yet or where we’re at – playing it by ear, as they say. But the girls don’t know anything. We’re wanting to see for a bit before we broach that. So I’d appreciate you not saying anything to them. Or anyone, really, I suppose.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, no problem.’
Mitchell could see Monica was rattled. He wondered why Natasha hadn’t told her friend her news and whereabouts herself.
‘So, you didn’t know about this Jesse guy, then?’ he ventured.
She immediately blushed the colour of pale beetroot. ‘Well … Um …’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘you don’t need to say – break your confidence with Natasha or anything.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it,’ Monica said, her flush immediately subsiding.
They concentrated on consuming their drinks and several biscuits in silence.
‘I heard she had a customer at the shop who sounded a bit flirty. But I didn’t know it would be as serious as, well …’ she waved her hand, ‘… you know.’
‘Yes. Well, it is. Or so it seems.’
‘Are you okay?’ Monica asked a few moments later, looking at Mitchell carefully, her face scrunched up in concern.
Mitchell felt his heart swell and warmth flow through him. ‘Thanks. I’m okay, at this point.’ It’s almost the least of my problems right now.
‘If you need to talk about it, feel free to call,’ she said, blushing again. ‘I know it can’t be easy. To be honest, I’m a little pissed off with her,’ she blurted and her face went an even deeper shade than before. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I appreciate it, Monica. But please don’t let it ruin your friendship.’ Though by the look on her face, Mitchell thought if it hadn’t been ruined, their friendship might have been irrevocably altered already. ‘The cliché of all clichés, “it’s complicated”, about sums things up at this point.’
‘Yes, I can imagine. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Thank you, but no. As I said, we’re just going with the flow right now.’
‘Well, I’d better keep going,’ Monica said a few minutes later when she’d drained her mug. She stood up. ‘Thanks so much for the cuppa and bikkies.’
‘Thanks for dropping in. It’s been a nice interlude to an otherwise … um … weird day,’ he said, walking her to the front door.
He was surprised when, out on the porch, Monica threw her arms around him. He held on tight for a moment before releasing her.
‘Seriously, I’m here for you, if you need a friend,’ she said, giving him a warm smile. ‘Just call. You’ve been so good to me all these years.’
Mitchell smiled back at her. He wanted to ease her clear discomfort, but didn’t quite know how. If he was better at all this communication stuff, chances are they – he and Natasha – wouldn’t be at this point anyway.
Chapter Nineteen
‘God, I really do feel like the luckiest man alive right now!’ Jesse said, dropping Natasha’s hand, which he’d been holding while they walked, and skipping forward so he was in front and facing her. He grinned.
Natasha found herself mirroring Jesse’s expression. His buoyancy was infectious too. He stopped and she allowed herself to stumble into his chest, letting out a giggle as she did. He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up off the ground and gently swung her around before kissing her hard on the lips then carefully placing her down again.
‘What fun! Thank you,’ he said, picking up her hand again and carrying on along the gravel path towards where they could see a seating area was set up beneath the canopy of a weeping pepper tree.
‘Thank you,’ she said. She noticed him check his watch and his face clouded slightly. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘No. Well, nothing you need to worry about.’ He pecked her on the lips and gently pushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face.
They walked on, even slower than before. Natasha was wondering why when he spoke again.
‘Ah, good,’ he said, when, up ahead, a young woman appeared from behind the tree carrying a large wicker basket. She began shaking out a red and white checked picnic rug, which she then laid down on the grass in front of the timber seat encircling the base of the tree.
‘This looks perfect. Thank you so much,’ Jesse said to the woman when they arrived.
‘My pleasure. Enjoy.’
‘This looks amazing,’ Natasha said. She beamed at the woman, who returned her smile before nodding and hurrying back the way she’d come.
‘For you, my dear,’ Jesse said, indicating the laden rug with a wide spread of his arms and a bow.
‘Why, thank you,’ Natasha said. Her heart soared. When had anyone taken so much trouble, just for her? She found herself thinking about the early days of her and Mitchell, but couldn’t recall any mind-blowingly romantic gestures such as this. Though there’d been plenty of great and fun times. Mitchell was a steady, practical man not prone to going off that script. And that was okay – it had served them well. Except she was rather enjoying this. As Natasha sat down, she tried to shake the comparisons – it wasn’t healthy or helpful, was it?
She was startled from her reverie when the cork in the bottle Jesse held out popped loudly, and let out a gasp and then a laugh. They both turned to follow its trajectory and heard it land in the dry leaves not far off.
‘Whoops,’ Jesse said, grinning broadly.
Natasha and Mitchell always made sure to keep hold of a cork so that there was no chance of damage. Oh, well, let it go, she thought. Literally. She smiled to herself. She couldn’t – well, shouldn’t – judge someone on whether they let a cork go or restrained it.
‘For you,’ Jesse said.
Natasha accepted the glass he held out to her and waited with it raised while he poured a glass for himself before putting the bottle back in the cooler of ice beside him.
‘To us,’ he said, tilting his glass and tapping hers.
‘To a wonderful time away,’ she said. ‘Thank you,’ she added, kissing him.
‘One of many, I hope,’ he said. ‘And hopefully for longer next time.’ They leant back on the pile of colourful pillows stacked against the bench seat.
Could life get any better than right now? Natasha closed her eyes for a moment to bask in the feeling while trying to commit it to memory and prevent it drifting away. Jesse was quiet beside her. She took a long sip of wine and looked up into the sky, which was a perfect, clear and brilliant mid-blue. There were a few fluffy white clouds and she focussed on one – staring, turning her head this way and that, analysing – looking for discernible formations to point out.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘Doesn’t that look like two mice on a seesaw – one on either end?’
‘Huh? What?’
Natasha felt Jesse shift position beside her.
‘The cloud. I said, doesn’t that look like two mice on a seesaw?’ She pointed again.
‘I heard what you said.’ He was frowning and staring in the direction of her finger. ‘Nope. Sorry. Can’t see it. Just clumps of clouds to me,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And a beautiful woman. But she’s right here beside me, thank goodness, not way up there.’ He stretched to put his glass down out of the way, before kissing Natasha and gently prising her glass from her grasp to place it beside his.
Natasha’s momentary disappointment in Jesse’s dismissal of the clouds – she and Mitchell always spent ages on their observations and convincing the other of different depictions – was quickly replaced by the tugging of desire as Jesse pressed himself to her and his tongue began to probe her mouth.
He groaned, the sound reverberating through her and matching her own ardent expressions of satisfaction as he placed his hand on the button of her jeans. Natasha was shocked to realise that if he went further, she wouldn’t stop him, despite their sort of public location. She’d never even been skinny dipping! But whatever Jesse was opening up in her, she liked it.
‘Oh, god,’ she groaned as he leant all his weight on her. She could feel the bulge in his pants. Hot pokers of electricity merged with the throbbing, which was becoming painful.
And then he let out a frustrated gasp of remonstration and disappointment, and rolled off her. ‘Sorry,’ he said, shooting her a slightly sheepish grin.
‘Oh, don’t be,’ she said.
‘Are you flirting with me?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, all in good time. As much as it pains me to say that,’ he added with a laugh. ‘But let’s not waste this.’ He stuck the knife into the wedge of soft cheese, cut a chunk, placed it on a cracker and held it out to Natasha.
She accepted the offering, taking the opportunity to pretend she was shifting in order to get more comfortable on the cushions and rug, when in actual fact she was trying to ease the pulsing.
Gradually they settled into their picnic and the conversation flowed freely – mainly about how lovely it was, both the weather and the setting. The silences were easy and companionable.
‘What a perfect day,’ Natasha said with a drawn-out sigh. All that remained of their picnic was a collection of crumbs and empty vessels.
‘Mmm.’
If she’d been with Mitchell, Natasha would have undone the button of her jeans to relieve the a-little-too-firm feeling resulting from all she’d just consumed.
Keen to shove the thought away, which served as an uneasy reminder of her comfort and familiarity with Mitchell, and how new and different things were here and now, Natasha began gathering up the empty plates.
‘No, leave them,’ Jesse said – a little sharply to Natasha’s ear, causing her to tense slightly. ‘Honestly, when I booked, they said they preferred everything to just be left,’ he added more gently this time.
Natasha relaxed. She set down the small stack she’d already collected.
‘Shall we head back?’ Jesse said, stretching out a hand to Natasha, who accepted his grasp and got to her feet.
Natasha began to fizz again beneath the calm, slightly dulled sensation flowing through her from too much food, plenty of sun and a few too many effervescent alcoholic bubbles.
‘Now, please feel free to decline, but what would you say to a back and shoulder massage from yours truly?’
‘Sounds perfect to me,’ Natasha said, slinking against his arm like a purring cat. A part of her was again yearning to just get the sex over and done with – pierce the unresolved buzzing tension. Yet she also wanted to stave it off, not surrender to it just yet.
Back in their room, they each took a turn using the bathroom and then Jesse laid a towel on the bed.
‘Right. Top off and lie down,’ he said. ‘You can leave your bra on if you like. Up to you.’
Natasha hesitated, but left it in place and lay down quickly in order to quell the spasm of lust that had bolted through her. She could feel the heat and electricity jumping between them again as he threw a leg over her to put a knee the other side of her hips, the bed rolling her slightly towards him as he got settled in his position.
