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His fingers were at the side seam of her dress searching for the zipper when he remembered they were in her shared stairwell. He let go abruptly and she staggered, her heels ticking on the tiles. She swiped her keys up and the lock turned, a click, light. Then her hand at his belt. She dragged him forward, through the doorway, onto a wooden floor, closing the door behind him, then opening it again and leaving him. Tap, tap, tap, tap across the floor, and back again. His forgotten gear, rescued and dumped somewhere inside now. There was a wall behind him, a doorway to his
left. Tiles on the wall; a bathroom. He pulled the tie out from around his neck, stuffed it in his pants pocket, moved across the doorway and the wall ran out.
“Georgia.”
Her hand to his and she was in his arms again.
“Bathroom is behind you. Left is the kitchen, right in front is the lounge.”
He was only interested in one room. Perhaps it was a studio, a bedsit. “No bedroom?”
“Yes.” The catch in her voice; a hiccup of nerves.
“Show me.”
She drew him forward, another click, a soft glow, a rug over the floorboards and his hands on her breasts. He toed off his shoes. Found the tag end of the zipper. “Show me you.”
He worked the zip down, his hand shaking, needing the other one to pull the fabric taut. Then his hand was through to her waist, but he got more fabric, not skin, did the thing have lining? He moved his hand and she was gone. “Did I tear it?”
“No.” Said sharply. A veil over the mood.
“What’s wrong, baby. Am I going too fast?”
“No.” Less edge. “Yes.” A jumper on a window ledge; considering the options.
“Georgia, talk to me.” Now he was on the ledge too.
A trickle of muffled, misplaced laughter. Her face in her hands. He found the side of the bed and sat, then lay back, eyes closed, head spinning. No idea what he’d done to make her withdraw again. Then her hand to his chest, the slither of fabric, she straddled his lap. He brought his hands to her silk covered hips. The zipper was undone still, that lining or whatever it was stopping him from feeling her skin.
“I don’t want you to undress me.”
Did she mean to stay in the dress? There was a lot of fabric to work around.
“I have very unsexy underwear on.”
“What?” Oh, no fair. Naked was his favourite underwear, he’d have to teach her that.
“This dress, it was either no underwear or a scuba suit.”
“Scuba?”
“I’m wearing this all-in-one bodysuit so there are no visible lines.”
He laughed. It came out of him with the violence of a shout and echoed in her annoyed gasp. She tried to scramble off him but he flipped them so she was on her back; he leaned over her. “All night I’ve been thinking you were naked under that silk.” He bore down on her, a kiss to her neck. “Drove me insane, thinking about it. Thought you’d done it on purpose.”
“Let me up, please.”
“I don’t care if you’re wearing a scuba suit or a hessian sack.”
“Oh.” Some of the starch in her crinkled.
He dragged his open mouth up to her jaw, turned her head and found her lips. He kissed her until she was limp, pliant in his arms, then he rolled them again. “You are my award tonight. There wasn’t a hetero man or a gay woman in that ballroom tonight who didn’t envy me you.”
“That’s not pos—”
“Shut up. We can do this one of two ways. One, you undress yourself and meet me on this bed. Two, you let me undress you, scuba suit and all. I vote for two, but you get the decider.”
All he got was her stilted breathing. He shouldn’t have told her to shut up. He shouldn’t have dictated her choices. He flopped down on the bed beside her.
