Calling All Dentists (Calling All... Book 2), page 15
Hi babe, can’t wait to see you later. Don’t wear too much tonight cos I feel like ripping it all off you and shagging you senseless. Sorry about that, lol, love Andy xx The message sent a new surge of excitement through her as Emma began to reply.
Ditto, yes please, that would be very nice. Can’t decide what to wear, but will try to keep it to a slip-on (off) number! Lol Em xxx
Actually my last message sounded terrible, sorry, don’t usually talk like that. I’ll rephrase it…I want to make mad passionate love to you again! Andy xxx
Is that what you’ve been doing then? Em xxx
What? x
Making mad passionate love to me…
Yes, what about you?
Yes. Em xxx Now Emma really felt emotionally charged, excited to the extreme – in love maybe? Ridiculous, she’d only known him a week!
Peering in to the full length mirror, Emma was pleased with the way she looked. It had taken some time, several cups of coffee, a few hair pulling moments, some cursing and lots of dressing and undressing. But now she was ready and she looked pretty hot, by her own standards.
Wearing a black pencil skirt, just above her knees, black stockings (of course), a sparkly red, low cut top that she’d had for so many years she didn’t care to remember, but it always looked great on the appropriate occasions, and three inch, black patent shoes. She hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be too icy outside, especially as they were walking to Andrew’s local pub. Pulling on the matching black jacket, she took one last look and smiled to herself. She looked pretty sensational, she decided, knowing deep down that the ugly truth was well hidden. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in twists and curls and just for a moment she thought she looked a bit like her teenage idol, Tulisa – in her younger days as a pop star.
Have a nice evening darling. Dinner at 2pm tomorrow (if you are in a conscious state to make it) Mum x
Emma dialed the number for the taxi, there was no way she was going to risk driving home in the morning, still intoxicated.
Locking her front door, she jumped in the taxi and left with the familiar flutter in her stomach and hope for the best evening of her life, ever.
Chapter 13
He smelt so delicious and the crisp white shirt reminded Emma of the first night they’d met. “You look stunning. Are you really all mine?” he whispered, softly touching her lips with his.
“Yes,” she replied, leaning back over the kitchen worktop and responding to his lips. They spoke through joined, partially open mouths, “Are you all mine as well?” she asked, breathing heavily.
“All of me… every inch of me,” Andrew said as the sexually charged exchange became more fervent. “I want you so much,” he whispered, holding her around the waist with one arm. His dark eyes of desire burned into hers.
Emma couldn’t resist… it was impossible… she kissed him softly. She reached down to his crotch, unzipped his trousers and took hold of him.
Carefully sliding her knickers down over her stockings, she leaned right back on the work top and waited for him.
Fully dressed, the lovers frantically expressed their desire for each other. Fast and reckless the moment was over quickly and they both sighed and shuddered as the ultimate ending came.
Returning from the bedroom Andrew had changed his ruined trousers. “How’s that?” Standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms outstretched half-mast he also wore a smirk on his face.
“Very handsome,” she replied and then smiled. “Do I look ok?” she asked, brushing her hair down with her hands.
“Beautiful,” said Andrew, as he poured two glasses of wine. “We’ll have these and get going shall we?” His face was still slightly flushed from their energetic, intense burst of fornication against the cupboards, in the kitchen. Emma nodded and smiled, she was totally obsessed with this man. He was compelling and full of passion like no one she’d ever known.
Their short walk to the pub was relatively silent, apart from the ever-increasing whisper of the strengthening wind. Emma held on to Andrew’s hand the whole way in a heavenly dreaminess. It was bitingly cold so Andrew lifted his collar up around his neck and sped up the pace. Now and again he gently squeezed Emma’s hand, looked down at her and winked.
As they approached the large public house, situated on the corner of a crossroad, Andrew stopped and said, “Right, let me warn you before we go in…” Emma’s eyes widened, “Dean and the boys are quite boisterous. They’ll all fall in love with you and they’ll probably try to chat you up. That’s what they’re like, so just ignore them ok.” Andrew leaned over and kissed her, “Don’t worry, they just go over the top sometimes but I’ll keep an eye on them.” Emma felt slightly uneasy but nodded and smiled just the same. “They’re bloody good though. Hope you’ll enjoy it.”
It was ten to nine and the pub was heaving with mainly young people, dressed in sparkly and glittery clothing. The ambient warmth, the buzzing, jolly atmosphere and low lighting made it feel welcoming as Emma followed Andrew, still holding his hand, to the crowded bar.
Over on the far right, the band were tweaking their instruments and checking their equipment under the spotlights. Andrew pointed to a man leaning over a huge speaker, “That’s Dean, bending over,” he said, “They kick off at nine o’clock – we’re just in time. What would you like to drink?” Andrew had pushed forward to the bar and the barmaid looked up and flicked her head and eyebrows upwards slightly as if to say what do you want?
“A Baileys please.” Emma smiled as Andrew let go of her hand to reach in to his pocket for his wallet.
Collecting the change from the barmaid, Andrew tossed it in to his pocket, along with his padded-out wallet, which Emma had noticed earlier, during the throes of passion over the kitchen worktop. She guessed that he wasn’t short of money – not that that had any bearing on their budding relationship. Emma wasn’t a gold digger and would much prefer to be penniless and in love, than rich, sick and tired.
“Let’s go over and I’ll introduce you quickly, before they start,” said Andrew, pulling her out from the crowds and the bustle by the bar. A throng of spectators had already begun to mingle around the small, step-up stage. “That’s Frodo, on the drums,” said Andrew, pointing again as they drew closer.
“Frodo? That’s a funny name.”
A short, dumpy man with tight brown curls teetering on the top of his head could just be seen climbing over all of the electrical wires on the stage before he almost disappeared behind a huge set of drums, centre stage. “Oh,” Emma giggled, “I can see why he’s called Frodo now.” The man, now peering over the top of the smaller drum on one side, did indeed look remarkably like he had just stepped out of, The Lord of the Rings. “What’s his real name?”
“Lee.” Andrew almost shouted over the increasing noise of people talking, the juke-box music playing on the far side of the lounge bar and the general sounds of glasses chinking and jangling in a very busy pub. As they reached the front of the stage, Frodo caught sight of Andrew and put his thumb up in acknowledgement. The two guitarists had strapped themselves to their electric guitars and plugged them in when Dean looked up and noticed Andrew, standing tall, amongst the spectators.
‘Hello mate!’ he mouthed, from the stage. Andrew raised a hand and moved closer to the step, with Emma in tow. After a quick exchange of greetings and handshakes, Andrew put his arm around Emma’s shoulder.
“This is Emma,” he said proudly, smiling up at Dean. The electric guitars started to screech and ping as the two men on either side of Dean tested the volumes and their equipment. Dean leaned over the stage and held a hand out to Emma. Reaching up, she smiled and shook his hand and then he leaned over further and kissed it. Emma smiled again and laughed off her shyness. Then Dean crouched down and spoke in to her ear, over the loud noises coming from behind him.
“’Old on to yer teef luv,” he shouted and then laughed out loud, “Got yerself a gud man there.” Then he stood back up and grabbed the microphone, “Are… you… ready?” he shouted to the crowd before winking at Andrew.
Cheers and roars echoed around the lounge while Emma stood motionless, gawping into the distance, stunned into silence, as the room seemed to close in on her and vanish. The distant, faint hum of the lively band could just be heard as she sank deeper and deeper inside herself. Andrew stood by her side and eagerly started to jigger up and down as the band began to play. Unable to move her eyes from Dean’s face, for fear of a tear welling and falling, she was frozen to the spot and the lump in her throat started to swell. What did he just say… about my teeth? She questioned herself, she questioned her hearing. Jolting from her moment of self-torment, she realised she’d been standing there like one of the Queen’s Guardsmen, perfectly still and vacant looking. Everyone around her was moving, dancing and swaying. Andrew was oblivious to her sudden predicament as he twisted his feet in rhythm with the music.
Tapping him on the arm, Emma shouted, “I’m just going to the ladies, I’ll be back in a minute.” She forced a smile and turned around to fight her way through the growing, writhing crowd of merry people as she headed for the toilet sign which she could just see over in the far corner.
Luckily, Andrew hadn’t heard what Dean had said but Emma could still not believe her own ears. What did he mean? Had he instantly noticed the poor condition of her gums and her loose teeth? He couldn’t have… or was this just one of those horrible nightmares and she would wake up in a minute? Maybe, from the top of the stage, he had a bird’s eye view of the inside of her mouth as she smiled and laughed at him.
Rushing past the now almost empty bar, Emma had to get to the toilets quickly and have a look in the mirror. She hoped and prayed there would be one in there and as she opened the door, she saw that there was and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Two women stood by the double sink unit, chatting, laughing and generally preening themselves in the long, rectangular mirror. Emma briefly smiled as she walked over to the first toilet cubicle. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and then looked up to the ceiling, blinking away her tears while she waited for the women to leave. She couldn’t cry – not now – Andrew might notice and then it would all come flooding out – her big secret about her failing gums would be exposed, in more ways than one.
Regaining some composure and having checked the way she looked (which turned out to be just the same as she had when she left home), Emma headed out of the toilet before it became obvious that she’d been missing for a while. She’d obviously misconstrued the comment made by Dean, turning it into a demon’s taunt, made up by her own insecurities. She needed another drink to wash away the constant nag in her mind that was turning her in to an anxious and uptight mess. “Want another drink babe?” Andrew’s calming voice brought Emma to her senses. “Thought you’d left,” he laughed as he joined her and slipped his arm around her waist again, directing her back to the bar.
“Let me get these,” she said, shakily.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m taking you out remember.” Andrew pulled a twenty pound note from his wallet and waved it over the bar. “Are you ok? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” He smiled and squeezed her in a one-armed hug.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. She really wanted to smile at him; he really did make her feel better. Toying with the idea of telling Andrew what Dean had said, Emma knew that it could highlight her issue if she brought the subject up. It could make things a lot worse for her or it could make Andrew realise (if he hadn’t yet), that she had such a big problem with her self-image. Emma imagined that she would be a toothless old lady by the time she was thirty and that probably wasn’t a good advertisement to start off a beautiful new relationship.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Andrew was slightly puzzled by Emma’s vacant look. “Oh no… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I just said… I mean about…” Andrew hesitated for a moment, “I mean the bit about you just seeing… a ghost. I mean, what with your grandad. What an idiot I am.”
“Oh no, I’m fine honestly. I’m sorry. I suppose I was just daydreaming a bit. Come on,” she said, smiling genuinely as she squeezed his bottom, took hold of his hand and pulled him away from the bar with a sexy glint in her eye. She had to get over this blip – she’d probably misheard what Dean had said and she had to believe in that thought. It was New Year’s Eve and she was going to enjoy herself with the most handsome man in the building, if it was the last thing she did.
Returning to the gathering of merry party-goers, Emma held on tightly to Andrew’s hand as they moved around to the side of the stage. The band played on loudly and vigorously. They jumped around on the spot and with all the equipment on stage there was absolutely no room for error or any wrong footing. Emma watched intently as Dean sang with so much fervency, that it sent shivers through her.
“That’s John,” shouted Andrew, pointing to the guitarist on the left, “And Terry.” He pointed to the other man, strumming his instrument like some sort of mad man. Emma tried to appear pleased to see them. Terry continued to strum violently, shaking his head around and bending his knees and then flicking his head back and looking up to the ceiling.
An hour of music, the odd ‘bad’ joke and three quick drink breaks later, the band paused for an intermission. Sweaty and thirsty, they headed off to the bar for a much needed glass of Coke. Andrew took Emma’s hand and pulled her over to the bar, “Come and meet them all. Want another drink?”
Terrified by the thought of Dean’s words or anything the other three might say to her, she reluctantly trailed behind Andrew nervously. She really needed another drink and if this was all going to go ‘tits-up’, she would rather be drunk when it all came out. She could always walk out of the pub and hail a taxi home if things really got too much.
“John, Terry… Frodo. This is Emma,” said Andrew, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. The trio nodded and smiled as each one greeted her (politely) and raised their eyes at Andrew. Dean hadn’t turned around from the bar and was busy chatting to the young girl who was serving him.
“How the hell did you manage to pull a gorgeous chick like her?” asked Frodo, looking Emma up and down and grinning.
“Well you know how it is Baggins, you’ve either got it or you haven’t, and in your case, you haven’t.” The men laughed and teased Frodo as Andrew, once again, gave Emma a reassuring smile.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Emma shyly, “Just nipping back to the ladies.” She had to escape, she had to check her appearance again (she was becoming obsessed) and she needed the toilet anyway. Andrew gave her a puzzled look but nodded to her and then turned back to his friends, so Emma scurried away as fast as her heels and the alcohol would allow.
The evening wore on. The drinks ran out on several occasions but each time their glasses were topped up, either by Andrew’s wealthy wallet or by the compliments of the band’s running tab behind the bar. The men in the band re-enacted their hectic routine of jumping about like children on pogo sticks and Emma drank, then drank some more.
The short conversation with the band men earlier had been menial but luckily Emma hadn’t been the topic of their conversation as first feared. Even Dean had not said anything else to her but she did notice him staring at her chest at one point, which made her feel very uncomfortable. It was plainly obvious by listening to them, that the band members clearly loved to talk about themselves, all of the time. Only once had she managed to buy the drinks, much to Andrew’s protests. “It’s only fair,” she’d insisted, but it was purely a means of escape for Emma and another chance to check the mirror in the ladies toilets, before going over to the bar. She was well aware that she had a huge problem and her crazy mirror-obsession was taking over. She had to stop it and soon.
At one point Andrew had dragged two bar stools around to the side of the stage so they could sit and watch the band. A makeshift dance floor had been created by a semi-circle of people dancing around the stage. Several of the women were dancing awkwardly in a very drunken state. Emma jumped off her stool as the band began to play one of her old, favourite songs. “Shall we dance?” she asked, feeling her inhibitions beginning to melt away. Andrew obliged with a wide grin and took her hand.
How is it possible to dance with someone and feel like you’ve just had sex with them? And in public, thought Emma as they returned to the one stool that hadn’t been taken up by somebody else. Their dancing, at the back of the crowd, had been sensual to say the least. Admirers watched on the sides as Andrew held Emma in one arm and they writhed and twisted and twirled in perfect formation to the bands version of, ‘Crazy’ by Gnarls Barkley. Andrew’s kiss, at the end of the song was sexy and long but perfectly polite in public. An elderly man, who was sitting over in the corner, began to clap his hands together as Andrew slowly pulled away from their kiss and stared deeply into Emma’s eyes. She was sure that some of the other, elderly spectators might have given a round of applause too, by the pleased looks on their faces – but they just smiled and nodded instead.
The time was ticking ever closer to midnight and the band were drawing to a close. It was approaching 11.30pm and the buzzing hype in the lounge was growing. “Shall we have one more drink before the clock strikes,” said Andrew, clearly tipsy by the way his eyes were glazed and weary, “They’ve got Buck’s Fizz on the house at 12.”
“Yes, sounds like a plan,” slurred Emma, feeling quite drunk as well. Dean’s words of earlier had become a distant memory and one that Emma really didn’t care much about anymore, now that the alcohol had warmed and numbed her.
