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We lay panting, my clammy chest against her back. We lay panting until she giggled, and I laughed, too.
She rolled under me, wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.
“I’ll take this over ladies who lunch any bloody day,” she said.
I kissed her over and over, all the way through getting dressed and making our way back to the shutters.
I was grinning like a fucking lunatic, couldn’t fucking stop myself, didn’t ever want to stop myself, until I heard the engine.
I’d already committed myself, already engaged the catch.
Oh shit.
Eleanor slipped out of the driver’s seat, shot me a smile that dried up as soon as Jodie stepped out from the garage.
I could have fucking died when the women clocked each other. They stared for a couple of seconds, neither saying a word, not to each other and not to me either.
Jodie fastened up the last of my overalls, then leaned in and kissed my dirty cheek. I wrapped my arm around her and gave her a squeeze.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Darren Trent,” she said.
She stared at Eleanor Hartwell all the way to her car, a strange little smile on her face, and Eleanor looked like a slapped arse, her lips pursed and her cheeks bright pink.
She watched Jodie slip into the driver’s seat. Glared as Jodie did her lipstick in the rearview.
“Another client?” she said. “I thought Mondays were busy, Trent? You told me Mondays were a no go!”
I smirked at her.
“That’s not a fucking client, Eleanor,” I said. “That’s my fucking missus.”
I let her pick her own jaw up from the floor.
I dashed into town to grab Nanna’s pills with a big ’ole smile on my face.
Porsche-bitch had seen a different woman staring back at her today. Not the dowdy, defeated, meek little shell of myself she’d dismissed as nothing, oh no. Today she’d seen me, and she’d balked. I’d seen it in her eyes, in the purse of her fake pout. No amount of money, no posh car or Botox or expensive makeup could bring me down, not anymore.
I knew he wouldn’t fuck her. Not right then, not there, not with his balls freshly emptied and my sweaty hand prints all over that Audi. Not even for the sake of the money. Maybe I was naive. Maybe I was being stupidly optimistic. But, no. I just knew it.
Porsche-bitch wouldn’t be getting anything from Darren Trent. Not today.
A small victory, but I enjoyed it. Bigger battles were on the horizon, a whole assault course of issues with our names written all over them, but I pushed those aside and sang along to the radio, enjoying the knowledge that I’d put myself out there and he’d wanted me right back. Enjoying the sensation of my well-fucked pussy, too. I was still full of him.
Shit.
Probably nothing to worry about. I tried to remember the purple shaded ovulation dates on my period app – I’m sure I was safe enough.
The traffic was godawful and the queue for Nanna’s pills was long – the woman behind the counter was busy for an age, yapping on about athlete’s foot to some old guy who wouldn’t stop asking questions.
I checked the time.
Late.
Shit.
I raced back to work and Lorraine pulled a sour face at me.
“Nice of you to show,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said. “Nanna’s pills took ages. I’ll make up the time.”
Ten minutes, it was only ten minutes.
She took it out on me all afternoon, and it was unlike her. The whole thing was off.
I grabbed her by the arm when there was a lull in customers.
“Have I done something?” I said. “I mean, I know I was late, but you seem…”
She stared at me for ages and then she sighed. “Sorry, Jodie, it’s just… I’m concerned.”
“Concerned?”
She put a hand on her hip. “I thought you were past all this running around after Darren Trent. I thought you’d moved on. I hoped you’d moved on, for your sake.”
My cheeks burned, the memory of bailing from the taxi, drunk, ignoring Lorraine’s efforts to deliver me back to mine.
“I’m not running around after Darren, we’re just… exploring our options.”
She slapped her hand on the counter, and it took me aback. “Exploring your options?! With that fucking loser? He’s nothing but a player! He’s a fucking disgrace!” She caught herself, shook her head. “Sorry, Jo, I just… I didn’t want to say anything…”
My heart dropped. The expression on her face said it all.
“What?” I said.
She let out a sigh. “I tried to book my car in for some tyres last week, and do you know how long it would have taken him to fit me in?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Three weeks,” she said. “Three weeks for some poxy tyres. You know why?”
“I guess they’re pretty busy…”
“Busy fucking anything with a pulse. I had to go into town in the end. Seriously, Jodie, he should remember he’s got a business to run down there, should try putting his dick back in his pants every now and again and getting some real work done.”
