You Don't Own Me(103)
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I see what I have never seen before. I see how bad it really is. How stupid and vulgar and truly ugly and cringingly embarrassing it is. What was I thinking bringing her here? She is too grand for this gaudiness. I want to usher her out immediately and rip it all up.
Slowly she turns to look up at me and I swear I stop breathing. Her shoulders come up as she is about to be sick, but instead of being sick, her mouth trembles. I’ll be damned. She is trying not to laugh! I don’t know what is worse. That she should think it hideous or laughable.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ I say brusquely.
She grabs my arm. ‘No, no, I think it’s great. Really.’
I look at her curiously. Is she serious?
She gestures around her. ‘Everything all at once like this. I’ve just never seen it before. That’s all.’ She becomes serious. ‘But in fact, I should have expected it. It’s you. You say it like it is. There’s no pretense. No veneer of what is socially acceptable. It is what it is. A room for sex. If someone gets brought here, they’ll know without any doubt what you want from them.’
She walks into the room, heads for the bed, and sits on the edge. She pats the space next to her and strangely I don’t feel my cock rise to the occasion. Instead I feel a horrible feeling in my gut that even just sitting on that bed would somehow contaminate her.
She pats it again and smiles slowly.
I walk over and sit next to her. She climbs into my lap. My cock forgets its reservations and stirs to life.
‘I was thinking of dismantling this room,’ I say.
‘Why? I like it. We can have funny sex here.’
‘Funny sex?’
She draws away from me. ‘Yeah, like when you bang your head on the headboard, laugh, and then have sex anyway.’
‘Right.’
‘You’ve never had funny sex?’ she asks incredulously.
‘I guess not.’ And judging from her description it’s not something I’m going to rush to try either.
She tilts her head to one side and I feel something inside me melt. Shit, I’m done for. This woman has me all tied up in knots. She tries to tickle my midriff. I’m not ticklish. Her fingers move to my armpits. I shrug. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re really not ticklish?’
Her expression of incredulity is adorable and I laugh.
‘There you go,’ she says laughing and pushes me backwards towards the bed. She puts her palms on either side of my face and brings her open mouth to mine. Ah, the kiss. This is not me kissing her. This is her kissing me. Soft. Her mouth is so soft and sweet. Smelling of mojitos and sugar and Layla. My Layla.
It seems that I like funny sex after all.
What part of her flesh have I not tasted? Her smell adheres to my hands and nails.
TWENTY-TWO
Layla
‘Congratulate me. I’m an aunt,’ I shout excitedly into the phone.
‘Brilliant. How’s the mother?’ BJ asks.
‘She’s fine. Now ask me how the father is.’
He laughs. ‘How’s Jake?’
‘Freaking out. You should see him. He’s so crazy about his baby he won’t even let anyone else carry her. I had to elbow him out of the way to even look at her.’
‘So everyone is happy.’
‘Yeah, everyone is really happy. I’ll send you a picture of her. She’s got hairy ears, but ma says even I had hairy ears when I was born and it will fall off.’
‘You still have hairy ears.’
‘Quit it or I’ll send you the pictures where she still has cottage cheese all over her body.’
He bursts out laughing.
‘Layla,’ my mother calls from behind me.
‘Got to go, Maddie, I’ll speak to you later, OK?’ I say and quickly cut the connection.
‘Are you staying for dinner?’ my mother asks. She is so happy she is glowing like it’s Christmas morning. This is her first grandchild and an event she has been praying for ever since Jake turned 21.
I touch her hand. ‘Might not be a good idea, Ma. I have to work tomorrow. I’ll come back on the weekend.’
‘Are you leaving now then?’
‘Yeah, before the traffic gets heavy.’
‘Do you want me to make you a sandwich before you go?’
‘No, I’ll go and say goodbye to Jake and Lily and be off.’
‘Lily is sleeping. Poor thing is exhausted.’
‘Fine. I’ll just go say goodbye to my brother and my niece then.’
‘Come and see me in the kitchen before you go. I’ve made some food for you to take back.’
‘OK,’ I say and run up the stairs of Jake’s house. I stand at the door of the nursery transfixed by the sight of Jake bent over Liliana’s cradle.