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Chapter 26
Leyna
Despite the fact it’sa dreary Monday morning, and I’m doing paperwork in the department with Lorna breathing down my neck, I’m finding it hard to concentrate. Not because of Lorna, but because my mind keeps going back to the weekend, to Jack, to everything we shared and agreed would remain locked up in that one weekend only. A little time capsule of need and lust and so much pent-up desire. I think of everything we shared and would never share again.
I had no idea that when I turned up on Friday night for a private session with Jack that it was going to turn into anything, let alone the most amazing weekend ever. My insides start to tingle every time I remember all the things we did to each other. The flashbacks arepotentthis Monday morning.
Flashback—in the kitchen.
Flashback—in the loft.
Flashback—in the bedroom.
I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. I’ve had boyfriends but there’s something about Jack that’s wild and mysterious. I think of Jack like I think of a Marc Chagall painting, a bit of whimsy but ultimately elusive.
I loved studying Chagall at uni. Art historians could never agree on the meaning of his paintings, of his symbols. Picasso once said, ‘He must have an angel in his head,’ referring to the images and symbolism that appeared otherworldly—they couldn’t be explained. There was no rhyme nor reason to any of it. Perhaps that’s my problem. I’m searching for clues where there aren’t any.
Jack just is—and that’s what makes him so enticing.
Jack and I never discussed how we would behave at work, so I can only assume that we’re going to pretend like nothing ever happened, just like it used to be. Only now, it was nothing like it was before. We had that weekend of debauchery, a blur of images bursting with excess, and it would take everything I had to sit here at my desk and pretend that I was the calm, quiet, innocent girl Jack seemingly used to think I was. I sit at my desk and all I can think about is Jack: Jack’s face, Jack’s shoulders, Jack’s smell... I must be delirious because I swear I can smell his cologne—
Suddenly Lorna is off her tits. ‘Leyna? Leyna! Professor Stanhope is here! For goodness, sake! God, that girl. Sorry Professor. I think her head might fall off if it wasn’t attached!’
I bite my tongue. B-I-T-C-H. I swallow down the bile that threatens to consume me.
I see a look I haven’t seen before cross Jack’s face. ‘Sorry to bother you, Leyna. Could you give me a hand with these lecture notes?’
He’s here—in the flesh. ‘Photocopy machine acting up again?’ I try to play it cool—because the weekend never happened, or, at least, that’s what I keep saying to myself. I walk with him down the hall, only too pleased to be out of that dreadful office for a few minutes.
I walk into the small photocopy room first and he follows behind me. The door swings shut behind us. He puts the papers in a stack and hits the copy button.
‘Oh, it’s working again,’ I say.
In two strides he’s pressed up against me, lips on mine. He kisses me with an urgency that is rooted in the forbidden, illicit nature of what we were doing—what we should not be doing.
‘Oh,’ I sigh into him. ‘There was nothing wrong with the machine, was there?’
‘I needed to see you alone.’
We’re both standing with his back hard up against the door. We cannot get caught like this. He probably wouldn’t get fired, but I certainly might. And with the way Lorna’s been acting recently, she’d be the first to throw me under the bus. The excitement of the moment, of getting caught in such an indecent position, titillates both of us, it seems, from the way Jack is ravaging my mouth.
‘I thought we weren’t...’ I try to say. ‘I thought it was only for one weekend...’ His mouth is hard and needy against my own.
His hands travel all over my body. One hand slips under my skirt and caresses my backside over and over.
‘Flower, you listened...’ he moans quietly into my ear. ‘You’re not wearing any knickers. You’re such a good girl.’ It’s like he’s delirious. ‘Besides, that was your rule, Leyna.’
