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But there’s something that feels strangely intimate about plaiting Rori’s hair and listening to her steady, quiet breathing.
I tie the band to the end of the second plait and let my hands rest softly on her shoulders. Her eyes open and her fingers come up to hold the long French plaits resting effortlessly on her breasts.
Her fingers graze mine as they rest on her shoulder and even though I’ve been touching her hair, the minimal contact sends a jolt straight through my bloodstream. Her fingers flinch away, almost as if she feels it too, and I take that as my cue to step back.
Rori stands and walks over to the mirror to look at her new French plaits and a small smile, a genuine one, lights up her face as she twists her neck to get a better angle of the back view.
“Thank you,” she says, the shyness dissipated, and right then and there I realise there’s no way I’m going to be able to let this girl go.
I don’t know where she’s come from or who she is, but there is absolutely no force I won't fight to have her.
Iwake up late, the sunlight filtering in through a crack in the curtains, and I look over at the clock on the table to see it’s just past midday. I haven’t slept so long in years. I usually fall asleep in the black of the night and wake up at the crack of dawn, ready to move on for the day.
The bed is the comfiest thing I have ever slept in. Even back home I never had the comfort of a bed like this. The five pillows that felt like feathers to sleep on surrounded my head all night, and the huge cream duvet drowned me in its folds protecting me from anything and everything.
I stretch my arms above my head and push myself further down the bed, burying myself under the covers, never wanting to leave or face reality. I still have no idea who Dax really is and I know this won’t last past today, but I don’t want to speed up the inevitable if I can help it.
My French plaits sit over my shoulders and breasts, and I fiddle with them again and think back to last night. I haven’t let anyone touch my hair in many, many years. I always had it in a plait on my shoulder to keep it tidy and close, so I could grab hold of it first before anyone else could.
But Dax was so gentle and completely unexpected, plaiting my hair and teaching me softly how to do it. Sure, I didn’t know him, but any man who would willingly do a woman's hair couldn’t be all that bad, could he?
After I’d admired his work in the mirror last night, he plated up a delicious pasta dish and I’d never felt so full in all my life. I helped myself to seconds without embarrassment because who knew when the next time I’d get to eat would be.
I asked him about his mother and how she taught him to cook. He told me that his mother used to be a chef, but she’d died when he was eleven. His father died years before that, but he doesn’t really remember how or who he was.
I offered my sympathy because I know all too well how empty the hole feels when you lose your parents, but he told me not to be sad and that he’s always lived with his cousin and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else anyway.
He asked me about my parents, so I told him what I’ve always wanted to believe. That they’re great people but are currently travelling the world now that they’re both retired. I realise there are plot holes in my story, as it makes no sense why they’d leave their eighteen-year-old daughter alone, but he doesn’t press and I’m grateful. I might not remember them well, but I believe they were great people, regardless if they left this world without me. I just wish I were as great a person for them to have wanted to stay.
It was easy to listen to Dax. He didn’t push for answers because he didn’t give much back, but I felt like I knew enough about him to not totally disregard him. He’d been kind and comforting, and I know not to let my guard down with anybody, but there’s something about Dax that has me softening.
I turn over onto my front and bury my head under the masses of pillows and bite my lip as I think back to last night, the room bathed in shadows and darkness, completely silent all but for the small, breathy groans passing through the walls.
I’d jumped out of bed and pressed my ear tightly to the wall to hear the deep pleasure escaping his lips in the dead of the night and felt myself going wet at his grunts. Remembering it, I slowly rub my front up against the bed and bite my lip, picturing Dax pleasuring himself last night. I don’t know what he was thinking about, but some sick part of my mind hoped it was me he thought of.
My knickers dislodge themselves as I rub up on the sheets and the soft material rubs gently on my clit and I almost moan out loud. But the thought of getting caught makes me pause and then the thought of what I am ultimately doing makes me stop altogether.
What the fuck, Ror!
I kick the covers off myself in haste, jump out of the bed, and pull my knickers out awkwardly, then fix my plaits back on my shoulders. I look at the messy sheets and anger burns through me at the loss of release between my legs but also at myself for wanting that release.
I punch the bed in frustration and shout loudly, hating myself for feeling that way, for allowing myself that pleasure.Nothing good will come from it.
I stop my punching and jump when the sound of a phone rings out loudly through the apartment. I pause and look at the closed bedroom door and wait for Dax to answer it. Cursing again, I open the curtains as I think about what his reaction must be to the crazy stray he brought to his place last night who’s now screaming for no reason.
The phone stops ringing but then instantly starts up again, and I quietly open my door and look down the hallway. There’s no sign of life and Dax’s bedroom door is wide-open, the sunlight pouring in from the windows, so I timidly step out of my room and walk towards the phone ringing on the wall.
I stare at it whilst it rings and wonder if I should answer it. Quickly looking around again, I realise Dax must’ve left. There’s no one here, and his shoes are gone from the shoe rack by the door.
The phone stops and I contemplate my situation in silence.
He’s left me?
I quickly run to the door but discover it’s locked and I start to panic, looking around for a key, when the phone makes me scream out loud as it rings for a third time.
I walk over to the phone on the wall and cowardly pick it up, raising it to my ear without saying hello.
“Good morning, Birdie.” Dax’s familiar voice hums down the phone and for a split second I forget he’s locked me in his place.
