By Laney Cairo Chapter 1 Lisa jumped down off the bus ahead of Belinda, wobbling slightly on her heels, and giggling as ...
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By Laney Cairo Chapter 1 Lisa jumped down off the bus ahead of Belinda, wobbling slightly on her heels, and giggling as she grabbed at the bus shelter to balance herself. Belinda was more graceful, she was so tall she could only wear kitten heels, so leaping on and off buses was much easier for her.
Lisa straightened her skirt, slung her bag over her shoulder. “Do I look all right?” “Gorgeous,” Belinda said truthfully. “And me?” Her skirt was more modest than Lisa’s, but anything shorter than her knees made her look like her legs went all the way up to her armpits, so Belinda was stuck with wearing A line skirts, while Lisa could get away with a denim mini. “Hang on,” Lisa said. She touched the edge of Belinda’s lip with one delicate fingertip, and nodded approvingly. “Let’s go shop.” Of course, what Lisa actually meant was ‘let’s go shop lift’, since neither of them had any money, but it counted as the same thing. They were right across the city from their own homes, no one would recognize them, and Lisa was already pushing her way through the late afternoon crowds, ignoring the stares she was getting as she made her way into the shopping centre. *** They wandered around, trying on cosmetics, spraying themselves with perfume, tasting all the freebies that were on offer in the supermarket. Belinda loitered outside the Body Shop while Lisa went in to steal some moisturizer, and found herself watching a portrait man in the reflections in the glass. He was old and scruffy, and she wondered what his life was like. It must be boring, sitting on a folding stool in a shopping centre, sketching strangers in exchange for a few pounds, being nice to old women and little kids. Not that Belinda’s life was happy or anything. She suffered through school, had no friends apart from Lisa, and spent all her time lying to her mother. The portrait man wasn’t sketching anyone, he was just sitting there, sketchpad on his knees, doodling, and it took her a moment to realize he was staring at her. She flicked her skirt a little, giving him a glance of thigh, and moved across to gaze in the window of Monsoon, pretending to be coveting the gypsy skirts there, but actually watching the portrait man out of her peripheral vision. He wasn’t really unattractive, with shaggy blonde hair down to his shoulders, and a couple of days’ growth of beard on his face. He looked tanned, as though he’d been somewhere that actually had summer, and when he stretched, his legs were long and lean in denim. Belinda kind of liked older men, at least at a theoretical level, so she turned her head and smiled at him flirtatiously. He smiled back at her, and she lowered her glance for a moment, then looked at him again and licked her bottom lip. She was good at this, at teasing the straight guys, it was the only fucking fun Belinda ever got to have, and it wasn’t like she could follow through, was it?
Lisa strolled out of the Body Shop, kissed Belinda’s cheek and slid her arm through Belinda’s. “C’mon, let’s go share an ice cream.” Belinda kissed Lisa carefully, so as not to smudge her lipstick, and nodded. They could afford an ice cream between them, and still have enough for the bus fare home. *** Lisa lived with her mum in a council flat, one of the huge towers that surrounded London, and so many people went in and out of the flats, all day and night, that they never worried about anyone spotting them. Of course, the lifts rarely worked, but they both took off their sandals and ran up the fourteen flights of stairs without any problems, just being careful where they put their bare feet. They were breathless by the time they got to Lisa’s floor, and Belinda leaned against the wall, panting, while Lisa searched her handbag for the key, both of them giggling. Lisa’s mum wasn’t home, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she was, since she knew about them both. Belinda tossed her bag on the tiny table and flopped down on the couch. “Argh, look at the time!” she said. “Mum’s gonna kill me.” “You can have the bathroom first then,” Lisa said. She sat down beside Belinda on the couch and opened her handbag. “What did you get?” Belinda undid the clasp on her own bag and rummaged around in it, then dropped a handful of things on the coffee table. “Lip gloss, some mousse, and some really cute clips. What about you?” “Moisturizer,” Lisa said. “A waxing kit and some tweezers. Not bad, either of us.” *** It didn’t take long to wash the makeup off, pack all the clothes away in the bag Isaac kept in Lionel’s bedroom, and put his school uniform on again. He could hear Lionel and Mrs. P chatting through the closed door, no raised voices or anything, so it looked like it was a good day for Lionel. Isaac still smelled of perfume, but if his mum noticed, she’d assume it was his sister’s, or that Isaac had been making out with a girl. The truth would certainly never occur to her, never in a million years. His sister Susan knew, unfortunately. She’d caught Isaac stealing her clothes, but since he knew that she had a stash of Es in her room, they were even. He wouldn’t tell, and he’d cover for her if she came home trashed, but he wasn’t allowed to touch her things. Didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes give him tops she didn’t like, or makeup, so it wasn’t too bad an agreement after all, even if the thought of the red jersey dress she had hanging in her wardrobe did torment him.
He let out a deep breath, ruffled his hair in the mirror so it didn’t look styled anymore, and opened the bathroom door. Back to the real world. Lionel’s mum was putting the kettle on when Isaac stepped into the main room. “Hello, Mrs. P.” “Hi, Isaac,” she said, smiling unsteadily and pushing the sherry bottle behind her a little further. “I’m going out Sunday, to the footie, if you want to come over. You can stay Saturday night if you want to, as well.” “Thanks, Mrs. P,” Isaac said. “I’ll ask my mum. She’ll want to ring you, if she agrees.” “Claire worries too much,” Mrs. P said. “I’ll tell her you’ll be fine here.” Isaac shrugged. His mum was well aware that Lionel’s mum was a drunk, but sometimes he persuaded her that it helped Lionel if he stayed over. He really hoped she’d let him this time, he and Lisa could spent the evening doing each other’s faces, and waxing their legs while they watched MTV. *** “Go on,” Lisa said, holding out one of her miniskirts. “You’ll look stunning in it.” “Are you sure?” Belinda asked, running her hands down her newly waxed thighs. “It won’t make me look too tall?” “Well…” Lisa said, considering Belinda’s legs. “Guess it might, but blokes’ll be falling over themselves to get a look anyway. You’ll have to be careful about tucking though.” Belinda shrugged. “Double undies,” she said. “That’ll do it. And can I borrow a pair of flats from you? So I’m not too tall?” “Sure,” Lisa said. “If I can borrow your eyeliner?” *** If the bus driver’s reaction was anything to go by, the borrowed miniskirt was a success. The bloke was sufficiently distracted he gave Belinda an extra pound in change, which was a real win. She smiled sweetly at him and slipped the coin into her handbag, and made a point of sitting in an aisle seat and crossing her legs, just to make sure he got a good look in his mirror. They got off at the same place as during the week. It’d be crowded, being a Sunday afternoon, and it was only their second time there, so it’d be unlikely anyone would remember them. They’d just make a point of hitting different shops this time, that’s all.
It was Belinda’s turn to do the Body Shop, while Lisa loitered outside, and Belinda slipped a bottle of Rose Musk into her bag, used the body lotion tester, and strolled out of the shop rubbing the lotion into her hands. Lisa was standing right in front of the portrait man’s display, and she waved to Belinda, calling out, “Come and look!” The portrait man smiled at Belinda and went back to the sketch of a young mum and her kid that he was doing. Belinda slid her arm around Lisa’s waist and looked where Lisa was pointing. “That’s you,” Lisa said, and it was. There was a line sketch, uncolored, of a girl in a patterned skirt and peasant blouse, with short hair, just a simple profile, and it was definitely Belinda. Belinda smiled widely and blushed under her foundation. The portrait man glanced up at her and said, “Glad you like it.” “Thank you for drawing it,” Belinda said, making sure she kept her voice husky. “It’s lovely.” The man smiled at Belinda and said, “Come back in ten minutes, okay?” *** Belinda and Lisa barely made it into the Ladies before they both dissolved in giggles, and Belinda glanced at herself in the mirror over the sinks. “Oh fuck. My face is a mess.” “Here.” Lisa opened her handbag and took out tissues. “Put some more lippie on, and fluff your hair up. You’ll be fine. You’re in public, it’s not like he can grope you or anything. I’ll stay here, and you can just run back here if he creeps you out.” Belinda nodded. “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?” *** The portrait man smiled at Belinda and said, “Sit down, that way I can look like I’m working.” Belinda sat down on the folding chair, acutely aware of exactly how short her skirt was, and she smiled back at him. “What’s your name?” he asked, reaching for his sketchpad. “Belinda.” She blushed again. “I can’t afford to pay you for this.” “No charge,” he said, and Belinda blushed again. “I’m Nathaniel. Nice to meet you, Belinda.”
Belinda glanced across at Nathaniel’s display board, where the sketch of her was pinned. “You’re very good.” “It’s hardly the career as an artist that I’d planned,” Nathaniel said ruefully. “Though it does have benefits. Would you like to come out for a drink when I’ve finished here?” Belinda almost fell off the canvas chair she was perched on, and she was sure she was spluttering. A man was asking her out! An adult man! “Oh,” she said. “Um, I’m here with a friend.” “The pretty girl with the black hair?” Nathaniel said. “She’s welcome to come along too; I’ll buy her a drink as well.” “I’d love to,” Belinda said. Nathaniel’s eyes tracked down Belinda’s body, over her push up bra clad chest, and down to her bare thighs, making Belinda shiver all over. “Thank you,” she said, standing up while keeping her thighs together, and Nathaniel stood up, too, and showed her the sketch he’d done. It was a lovely drawing of Belinda, the way she wished she looked, pretty and soft and glowing, and she bolted for the Ladies, too flustered to even say goodbye, her borrowed sandals flapping on the tiled floor of the shopping centre. *** “Well?!” Lisa demanded as Belinda burst into the Ladies. “He’s taking us both for a drink!” Belinda cried, and she grabbed Lisa’s arms and jumped up and down on the spot, startling the old lady who was washing her hands beside them. “Both of us?” Lisa smiled broadly. “Really?” Belinda nodded, and glanced at herself in the mirror. “Look at me! I’m a wreck.” *** The pub was packed, and Nathaniel took hold of Belinda’s elbow, guiding her through the press of bodies. Belinda kept her hand wrapped securely around Lisa’s wrist, so as not to lose her. “Over here,” Nathaniel shouted over the noise, as he led the two girls to a quieter corner of the bar, and found a table in a booth that a group of people were just leaving.
Belinda slid into the booth, Lisa on the opposite side of the table, and Nathaniel said, “What’ll you both have?” Belinda glanced at Lisa, and said, “Tequila Sunrise, please, Nathaniel.” Lisa nodded. “Yes, please.” The trick was to order a large drink, to disguise the size of their hands. Lager was too male, so a large mixer was safest. “Sure,” Nathaniel said, and he headed towards the bar through the crowd. Lisa leaned over the table and squeezed Belinda’s hands quickly, giggling. “This is so exciting.” Nathaniel was back in a moment, two glasses of orange stuff with umbrellas nestled against a lager. He grinned at the girls and slid in beside Belinda. “There you go,” he said, smiling at them both. There was music playing, bad 80s music by the sound of it, and Lisa had just sipped her drink, and was giggling again, when a young man leaned over the table and said, “Wanna dance?” to her. Lisa glanced at Belinda, and said, “Oh, yes.” Nathaniel smiled conspiratorially at Belinda as Lisa slid out of the booth. “Do you like your drink?” “It’s lovely,” Belinda said. Nathaniel slid a little closer and put his arm around her shoulders. “Good.” His voice was low and husky, and Belinda’s heart was pounding in her chest. They were the same height, and when Belinda smiled nervously at Nathaniel and fiddled with the umbrella in her drink, he smiled back at her reassuringly. “We’re in public,” he said quietly, and she almost couldn’t hear him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. “Oh!” Belinda said. Nathaniel’s hand cupped the back of her neck, and his lips moved against hers. She didn’t know what to do… She’d kissed a couple of girls at school, when it had become unavoidable, but this was a man kissing her, and it was unbearably exciting. His tongue flickered against her lips, and she opened them, and he tasted of lager. Then his hand left her neck, slid down her arm, and came to rest on her knee, just as his tongue pushed slickly into her mouth.
She ached, fucking ached, deep inside, and her cock was straining against the two layers of Lycra holding it in place, and she kissed Nathaniel back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her tongue into his mouth, too. Nathaniel’s hand inched up her thigh, exploring the skin, and the feeling of being touched by someone else was painfully arousing. If she didn’t stop him soon, as his fingers pushed between her thighs, parting them a little, he was going to find out that she wasn’t quite what he expected. Belinda wrenched her mouth off his and grabbed his hand. “Stop,” she gasped. “It’s okay,” Nathaniel murmured against her ear. “I won’t touch you there then.” His hand moved, slid across her thigh, around the outside, and up under her skirt at the back. “Better?” he asked, and Belinda gasped. Nathaniel chuckled, and his stubble brushed against her ear. “I won’t hurt you, little girl,” he whispered. “Why don’t you try touching me?” Nathaniel kissed Belinda again, more gently this time, and Belinda tentatively lifted her hand off Nathaniel’s neck and very carefully lowered it into his lap. She was so turned on that her hand was shaking, that she could barely breathe, barely think. Fuck, she had no idea what she was doing, but she pressed the palm of her hand against the worn denim. Nathaniel moved a little, stretching his legs out, and her fingers found his cock through the material. He was rock hard, and he moaned into her mouth. She pressed harder, trying to work out how to touch him. There were people all around them, some of them were probably watching, and Belinda didn’t care. She’d been dreaming of this for years, of a real man wanting her, of being kissed until she couldn’t breathe, and it was finally happening. There was a hand cupping one of her buttocks, squeezing it through the double layer of Lycra she had on, and Nathaniel was moving his hips a little, pushing his cock up into her hand. Belinda wished she was brave enough to undo Nathaniel’s jeans and touch him properly, but she wasn’t. Bravery was something Nathaniel didn’t seem to be short of, and his fingers pressed against the crack of her ass, pressing hard and rubbing in circles, and even with the compression of the underwear, it was driving Belinda crazy. She was eighteen, getting her first taste of real action, she really had no chance of not coming, not with that sort of provocation. Belinda squirmed a little, hugged Nathaniel tight with the arm around his neck and groaned loudly against his mouth. She could feel come seeping through her clothes as she slumped against Nathaniel, breathing hard. He held her tightly, kissed her gently, and stroked her back carefully, whispering reassurances to her. “Shh. Just rest… No rush… Was that good?” “I think I’m embarrassed,” Belinda said against Nathaniel’s neck.
“Don’t be,” he said soothingly. “That was beautiful. It’s been a long time since I made someone come like that. You’ve done wonders for my ego.” Belinda smiled shyly, and Nathaniel kissed her, just lightly. “Now sit back and enjoy your drink, babe,” he said. “Then I’ll see you and your friend to the tube station or bus stop.” The Tequila Sunrise melted down Belinda’s throat, and she felt dizzy and light-headed, but that might have just been the warmth of Nathaniel’s arm around her shoulder, the way his hand cupped her elbow, holding her close. She was miles away, smiling beatifically, when Nathaniel leaned his head a little closer. “Would you like to come dancing with me? One night during the week?” There was come cooling against Belinda’s belly, Nathaniel was probably old enough to be her father, and he didn’t know that most of the time she was Isaac, but right then none of these things seemed like reasons to say ‘no’. “I’d love to.” “Good.” Nathaniel’s eyes twinkled at Belinda. “I’ve only got a motorbike, so wear something you can ride pillion in.” Belinda bit her lip, then licked the lipstick off her teeth. “Can I get you to pick me up outside Lisa’s place?” she asked. “I rather think you want to avoid my mother.” “I dunno,” Nathaniel said, chuckling. “Is she as cute as you?”
Chapter 2 Getting out of the house on a weeknight wasn’t going to be easy, but Isaac followed Susan into her room when she came in from Uni. “What?” she said, and Isaac crossed his arms and bit his lip. “I’ve got a date. Tonight. No way will Mum let me go, so I’m just going to disappear. Thought I’d better tell you.” “Oh fuck you, Isaac.” Susan sat down on the bed. “And when Mum finds out, I’ll have to put up with her carrying on like a bitch for the evening. You’d better fucking come home and deal with her. Don’t you fucking dare stay out all night or she’ll call the fucking cops.” Isaac deliberately let his gaze drift across the room, to where there was a ducting vent, and Susan pursed her lips unhappily. “She’s gonna fucking kill you,” Susan said. “Now get out of my room.” *** Mrs. P tipped her head sideways and studied Belinda’s outfit. “Can’t wear jeans dancing,” she said. “Can’t wear a skirt on a motorbike.” Belinda looked down at her jeans. They really were very ordinary. Lisa shook her head. “What about tights? Under a skirt?” Belinda and Mrs. P. both shook their heads. “Tacky,” Belinda said. “Hang on,” Mrs. P said. She put her glass of wine down and opened her wardrobe door. “Somewhere in here…” She began to toss clothes onto the bed. Lisa shrugged and leaned closer to Belinda. “She won’t let me touch her clothes.” “Too right,” Mrs. P said. “You’re my son. Belinda is most definitely someone else’s problem.” The pile of clothes grew on the bed, until Mrs. P triumphantly held up a black shawl. “There you are, hon. Put it in your pocket, and when you get there, tie it around your hips.” The material was silky, and the shawl had a deep fringe along two of its edges. Belinda wrapped it around her hips and knotted it. “Wow, thanks,” she said. “That’s gorgeous.” ***
Belinda was cold, even with her corduroy jacket done up all the way and the shawl stuffed into a pocket. She hoped Nathaniel wasn’t going to keep her waiting too long, because hanging around the front of the block of flats was just asking to either get attacked or arrested. She actually heard his motorbike long before she saw it, a steady poppop noise making its way through the maze of streets. Relief washed through her when a rusty old beast pulled up at the curb, and the rider took his helmet off and beckoned to her. She ran over, smiling broadly, and Nathaniel turned the bike off. He swung his leg over the motor to stand up and hug her. “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Good to see you again. Here, put my spare lid on.” He helped her wriggle the helmet on, and buckled it under her chin, and for the first time Belinda was deeply relieved that her mum made her keep her hair relatively short. There wasn’t a hair style alive that would survive a helmet, and at least cropped hair wouldn’t actually be any messier for it. Nathaniel hopped back on the bike and kicked the stand off, and Belinda slid onto the space behind him on the seat. “Hold on tight,” he called over his shoulder, and his hand slid down Belinda’s thigh, drawing her closer to him, as she wound her arms around his chest. The bike started first go, so it must have been in reasonable condition after all, and Belinda found herself shouting with delight as it pulled away from the curb, the motor getting louder and louder with each second. Nathaniel’s leather jacket smelled of sweat and exhaust fumes, and it was wonderful to be so close to him, and even more wonderful to finally feel like she was getting to be a teenager, going out with someone inappropriate, sneaking out of the house. Fuck, she wasn’t going to worry about what would happen tonight, about how she would tell Nathaniel she had a penis; she was just going to have fun. *** The ride into the city only took a little while, and Belinda was disappointed when Nathaniel pulled the bike up onto the verge, amongst a row of parked cars, and turned it off. “Hop off,” he said, and Belinda reluctantly let go of him and swung herself up onto the footpath. She took off her helmet, and undid her jacket, then fluffed her hair as well as she could. The shawl wound around her waist, and Nathaniel nodded approvingly at her. “Very nice.” “You look good, too,” she said as Nathaniel undid his jacket and shrugged it off. He was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt, with boots, and Belinda just wanted to see him naked, right then. “C’mon,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go dance, before I decide I need to do something else instead.”
There was music pounding in the building, and Nathaniel handed over a couple of bills at the door, and they both got their wrists stamped. He took her jacket and helmet, and put them into the cloakroom with his own. Belinda hadn’t brought a handbag, not when she couldn’t rely on having somewhere safe to keep it; instead, she had some money that Lionel had given her, for a taxi home if she needed it, a lipstick, and the house key. The key and money were inside her boot, for safe-keeping. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, a club perhaps, but when they stepped into the main room, it was well lit, and full of people stomping their feet and clapping their hands. “Line-dancing!” she said, grinning at Nathaniel. “I can’t believe you do line-dancing!” “Sure do,” he said. “Just watch the person in front of you, and do what they do.” It was easy! Right foot, kick. Left foot kick, turn through ninety degrees, clap and swing the hips. Absolutely simple, and it took all of thirty seconds to pick up. Belinda grinned widely at Nathaniel beside her, and he grinned back. Her shawl swung, flicking around her; her boots were just like everyone else’s, and she was singing along, the noise more than enough to cover her voice. They danced like that, different steps every couple of songs, dead simple to pick up each time, and Belinda found that she was sweating and her legs ached, and she felt absolutely wonderful, especially whenever she caught Nathaniel glancing at her appreciatively. He bought her a Coke during the break, and they went and stood out on the footpath, in the cool air. Nathaniel’s arm was around her waist. He was sweaty, too, his T-shirt was damp when she touched it, and he smelled incredibly sexy when she buried her face against his chest. “Having a good time?” he asked, chuckling and stroking her sweat damp neck. “Fucking fabulous,” she said. “I had no idea it could be so much fun.” *** The motorbike wobbled a little when Belinda perched on the seat, but Nathaniel held her and the bike steady. They were both sweaty and laughing, and the crowd from the line-dancing club milled around them, but Belinda didn’t care, not when Nathaniel was kissing her the way he was, half chuckling still, his hands sliding in under her jacket. “Come back to my place,” he said, between kisses, and one of his hands was working its way up under Belinda’s T-shirt, rough fingers making her shiver a little.
“I can’t,” Belinda whispered. She reached behind her and pushed his hand away from her bra strap. There was a streetlight overhead, and Nathaniel’s face was gentle in the yellow light. He pulled his hand out from under her clothes and traced one finger along her jaw line. “Don’t be scared. Nothing’s going to happen.” Nathaniel’s fingers drifted down Belinda’s neck, traced up to her ear, a harmless touch that was making Belinda crave things she had only read about. She could tell Nathaniel, now while they were in public, knowing that he probably wouldn’t lash out at her with witnesses around, or she could delay the inevitable and try and keep his hands off her body, just so he would keep kissing her. “Nathaniel,” she whispered, as his mouth latched onto her neck and sucked. “Things are... complicated.” “I like complicated.” He took her hand and pressed it against the front of his jeans. “Feel?” His cock was a solid ridge, through the denim, and Belinda pushed the palm of her hand against it. She could have sworn she felt it jump, through the layers of material. “Please?” he whispered, and someone wolf-whistled from further down the street. Belinda was just as hard, so turned on she could barely breathe. She wanted this desperately, needed this, had to do it, and she said, “Yes.” He lived in a rented room in a shabby house, up two flights of stairs that smelled of cabbage and boiled mince, where there weren’t any lights on the landings, but his room had a lock. Belinda leaned against the wall beside the door while Nathaniel searched for his key. It was a tiny room, with a single bed, a table and chair. There was a kettle and an electric element on a shelf, and a hand basin next to the table. He shared a window with the room next door, since someone had obviously partitioned up what had once been a decent-sized bedroom. There were sketches all over the wall, lovely charcoal drawings, sparse and beautiful, and Belinda felt like she could spend hours studying each one. She perched on the edge of the unmade bed. Nathaniel lit a couple of candles and turned off the overhead light. “That’s better,” he said, sitting beside her and putting his arm around her. “Here, why don’t you lie down; we’ll be more comfortable.” Nathaniel stretched back on the sheets and blankets, and patted the bed beside him. Belinda bit her lip, and smiled shyly, then lay down beside him. “That’s better.” He lowered his mouth to hers. If the kissing before had been good, in the pub and propped on Nathaniel’s bike, it was nothing to this, now that they were alone. The combination of Nathaniel’s mouth and the feel of his body next
to hers exhilarated Belinda. After a long, slow, wet kiss, Nathaniel lifted his mouth off Belinda’s and sat up a little to pull his T-shirt over his head. He had a thick mat of chest hair, dark and luxurious to touch, and when Belinda rubbed her fingertips over his nipples, he moaned quietly. This spurred her on, giving her courage to touch him, running her hands over his chest, then when they kissed again, she ran them over his back, too. He was strong and muscular, hair on his back as well, and Belinda wished she had longer nails to scratch him with, but long nails weren’t an option, so she settled for dragging what she had over the skin of his back. “Do you want to touch me?” His voice sounded so husky against Belinda’s ear that her stomach muscles fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered, and in the shadows she could hear the sound of a zip being undone, then he took her hand, and Belinda closed her eyes and whimpered. He was big, really big, and his skin felt so smooth and soft, slipping over the hardness underneath. Belinda curled her hand around his cock and stroked him gently. He groaned, against her lips, and kissed her again. It was all so fucking perfect that Belinda began to suspect she would come just from this, like she had at the pub. They were both moaning now, over the slipslide of Belinda’s hand, and Belinda couldn’t have stopped Nathaniel, even if she’d wanted to, not when he unbuckled her belt and undid the top button on her jeans. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. He slid the zip undone, carefully and slowly, and she was suddenly desperately aware that things were about to go wrong. The dancing had untucked her, and her cock was lying up across her belly instead of in her groin where it belonged, and there wasn’t any way Nathaniel could have missed it, when he eased the front of her jeans open. “So pretty,” he whispered. He trailed his finger up the length of her cock, through the lace and satin of her underwear. “So pretty.” Belinda gasped, doubly stunned by his words and the sensation of being touched. Nathaniel chuckled a little. “How about I please you, little girl?” His cock slipped out of her hand as he moved, then Nathaniel’s mouth was pressing wetly against the lace, and he dragged his teeth along the length of Belinda’s cock. “Oh, fuck,” Belinda groaned, then had to grit her teeth from crying out. Nathaniel was doing obscene things to her, with his tongue and teeth, all through her best underwear, and it might just be even better than she’d imagined.
She could hear a radio playing, and someone talking in either Urdu or Hindi nearby, and the ceiling of the room was flaking and blotched with mold, and the satin and lace were soaking wet against her skin, from where Nathaniel’s mouth was working over her cock. One of his hands slid up her belly, under her T-shirt, and she didn’t try and stop him, not now, and his hand slid over her bra, and rested lightly over the cup, his fingers stroking the lace. It was all too much, too fast, too soon, and Belinda had no chance of holding back. It felt so fucking unbelievably good, and she groaned deeply, probably too loudly, and her hips bucked reflexively, and she came blindingly hard. Nathaniel lowered himself back on to the bed beside Belinda, and kissed her. “Will you do something for me?” “Yes,” Belinda breathed. “What?” “Just hold still, babe,” Nathaniel said. “I just want to…” He lowered himself over Belinda, so his legs pressed against hers, and his cock jutted against her belly. Belinda held still, somewhere between delighted and scared, and Nathaniel reached down between them and fiddled for a moment with her underwear, lifting it away from Belinda’s belly, and sliding his cock in beside Belinda’s. “There,” he said, taking his weight on both arms, looming over Belinda. He began to rock his hips, dragging his cock backward and forward through where Belinda had come. Belinda groaned and gripped onto Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Can you come again?” Nathaniel asked, sounding strained, and Belinda nodded. She was eighteen, recovery time was not an issue, especially with a gorgeous man rubbing his cock against hers and groaning between kisses. The bed creaked with each rock, and thudded against the wall, and Nathaniel’s weight was pressing Belinda further and further up the bed, so her head was pushed against the wall, too. They were both moaning now, moaning loudly. Belinda scraped her nails down Nathaniel’s back and wound her legs around his, trying to increase the friction, and it must have been working, because the feel of Nathaniel’s cock, ramming against hers as his thrusts became harder, was explosively good. No one had told her about this, that a man could do this to her, make her ache and burn and feel like she was about to die, just from the unbearable joy of it all. Then Nathaniel shuddered and jabbed, and there was something hot and slippery spreading over her belly, and Nathaniel was moaning loudly. Belinda came again, sharp and sudden.
She felt weak, lying there in Nathaniel’s arms, like she was wounded in some way that she couldn’t see, but he was crooning to her, singing perhaps, and she couldn’t make out the words, just knew it was for her. The come on her belly, and soaking into her jeans, was cold now, and clammy, and Nathaniel pulled a blanket over them both, gentle hands against precious skin. She made a sleepy sound, and Nathaniel said, “I think I should take you home, Cinderella.” She wanted to stay, more than anything, but it just wouldn’t be worth the grief at home. She’d be in enough trouble as it was, for going out on a school night. “I have to turn back into Isaac,” Belinda said. “Can’t go home like this.” “Isaac?” Nathaniel said. “That’s a beautiful name, too, but I think Belinda is my favorite.” Belinda creased her brow in thought. “I can’t take my underwear home.” Nathaniel’s fingertips brushed over her bra, a delicate touch. “You can leave them with me.” It sounded obscene. “Wash your makeup off in my sink, and then I’ll drive you home commando.” Belinda flushed, and not at the idea of leaving her bra and knickers with Nathaniel. She rather liked to imagine what he might do with them, in his tiny room and rumpled bed. It was the process of changing that she found so personal, even taking her face off in front of Lisa was difficult. “How about I go to the bathroom, downstairs, and give you some privacy?” Nathaniel said. “And you can just leave your things on my bed, for me to look after.” “Thank you,” Belinda said, and it came out as a whisper. “For everything.” Nathaniel’s fingers drifted across her belly, where their come had pooled. “You’re welcome. A girl as beautiful as you needs looking after.”
Chapter 3 Washed as clean of makeup and come as he could manage, denim chafing against bare skin, Isaac clambered off the back of the bike, slipped the helmet off and handed it to Nathaniel just as the front door of his house swung open and light fell down the flight of stairs. Claire peered and Isaac couldn’t see Nathaniel’s face behind his visor, then the motor revved, and Nathaniel was gone, taillight disappearing down the street. “Isaac?” Claire called out, and Isaac walked across the pavement and found his feet dragging up the stairs. “Where have you been?” Claire asked, her voice icy. “And who was that on the bike?” Isaac went to step past her, intent on getting to the bathroom as quickly as possible, and she reached up and slapped him, hard, across the face. “Don’t you dare ignore me,” she said. “Answer my question, though by the way you smell, it’s obvious you’ve been with some slut; you stink and you’ve got lipstick all over your face.” Susan was halfway down the stairs, chewing her lip anxiously, and Isaac shrugged at her briefly, before he turned to face his mother, who was possibly angrier than he had ever seen her before. He rubbed at his face. “I was losing my virginity,” he said. “So sorry I didn’t ask your permission first.” He took the stairs two at a time, up past Susan who was nodding approvingly, to the safety of his room. First thing he did was take the shawl, buried deep in his jacket pocket, and stuff it into his school bag, ready for the next day. He grabbed his track suit, the closest he was prepared to get to pajamas, and locked himself in the bathroom. Isaac could hear Susan, voice raised, hopefully in his defense, and he turned the shower on, just to cover the noise. He was wearing a T-shirt borrowed from Nathaniel, Leicester University it read, faded and sagging, and his skin was fragile and pale when he peeled the T-shirt off. His jeans were a mess, but he could hide them in his room until he could do a load of his own washing. But his face was rubbed raw from Nathaniel’s beard, and he had bite marks on his neck, faintly tender under his fingertip when he touched them. Someone banged on the door sharply, and Isaac stepped under the shower and reluctantly let the water wash away the last traces of what had happened. ***
The door to his room opened, letting in a crack of light, and Isaac sat up in bed. “Shh,” Susan said. She closed the door again, and when Isaac flicked on his reading light, she settled on the end of his bed. “You all right?” she asked quietly. “Was it bad with Mum?” “Wasn’t good,” Isaac said ruefully. “She guilt-tripped me big time.” Susan nodded sympathetically. “I just wanted to make sure you were coping,” she said in a low voice. “He didn’t hurt you?” she whispered. “Did you make sure he used a condom?” “We didn’t do that,” Isaac whispered back. “So you don’t need to worry. He was really kind and gentle, just lovely.” Susan patted his knee, and Isaac realized how sentimental he sounded. “Be careful,” Susan whispered. “Don’t let him break your heart. And don’t have unprotected sex.” Isaac could feel his face burning with embarrassment. “Please,” he whispered. “I’ve already been lectured about that tonight.” “So, are you going to see him again?” Susan leaned forward and wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself. Isaac shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope so.” The door to Claire’s room creaked, and Susan gave Isaac’s knee one last squeeze. “Sleep well,” she said, and Isaac’s door opened a little. “Susan?” Claire asked. “Just telling off Isaac,” Susan said, clambering off the bed. Isaac turned his light off and lay back under the covers, a huge grin on his face. He suspected he wasn’t going to sleep at all, and that was fine because that gave him more hours to remember being with Nathaniel. *** Lionel glanced up at Isaac and said, “Lawhead,” when Isaac sat down beside him at a table in the dining hall. “Perkins,” Isaac said, and he pushed a paper bag across the table to Lionel. “My mum asked me to give this to you, for your mum.” “Sure.” Lionel bit into his sandwich and shoved the paper bag into his lunch box.
Isaac took out his sandwich, too, and ate a corner of it gloomily. “Got into shit with Mum,” Isaac said. “A lot of shit.” Something like envy pricked at Lionel’s face for a moment, and he said, “Nice bites. Was she hot?” “Very,” Isaac said. “Wanna hang out this afternoon?” Lionel packed away his lunch. Isaac shook his head, and Lionel wandered off. They didn’t dare hang out together at school, not when both of them lived in fear of discovery. This way, if one of them was busted, the other had some hope of surviving. *** The pound from the bus driver on the weekend wasn’t enough to buy a return ticket to the shopping centre, so Isaac raced home after school, tossed his bag onto his bed, and rushed downstairs to haul his bike out of the shed. He needed to get out of there before his mum came home from work, and he wouldn’t mind betting she was planning on getting home early to make sure he came straight home from school. Obviously she thought he couldn’t be trusted. She was right, of course. *** Isaac chained his bike to a railing outside the shopping centre, resisted the urge to tidy his hair, and plunged into the afternoon crowds, hoping desperately that Nathaniel would be there that day, that he hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth completely. He was there, bent over his sketchbook, drawing two elderly women, one fat, the other painfully thin. Isaac had to remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to loiter outside of Monsoon this time, so he made himself wander up to the CD store and flick through the bargain bins. He really would have preferred to be dressed, not wearing a faded school shirt, tails hanging out, and grey flannel school pants with scuffed knees, but he hoped Nathaniel wouldn’t mind too much. The woman beside him was obviously a store detective, and Isaac memorized her face, just in case, and when he glanced up again, the old ladies were paying Nathaniel, so he resisted the urge to steal anything and tried to walk as casually as possible back to Nathaniel. Nathaniel smiled at him, and he looked so damn sexy that sitting down on the wobbly canvas chair was something of an imperative. “Hey, Isaac,” Nathaniel said, and his voice was all low and rough, making Isaac swallow all of a sudden.
“Hi, Nathaniel. Hope it’s all right to come here.” “More than all right,” Nathaniel said. “Since I can’t easily come and see you.” He was sketching, pencil darting across the page, his eyes on Isaac’s face, and Isaac could smell him clearly. He smelled of sex and warmth. “Did you get into much trouble?” Nathaniel asked. “Last night?” “Yeah,” Isaac said. “Heaps. Got lectured by my mum, who thought I was out shagging some slut, and then by my sister, who knows.” “Ah.” Nathaniel sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “I got lectured by the bitch in the room next door, something about noise traveling through the wall. Let’s get out of here.” *** Nathaniel had a storage lock-up at the shopping centre, no more than three feet wide, just big enough for the canvas chairs and his display board, and the pair of them. Nathaniel closed the door, pressed Isaac against the metal paneling, and kissed him. It smelled weird, down there, with flickering fluorescent lights and the faint scurrying of vermin, and there wasn’t a lot of privacy, since the door didn’t lock from the inside and every sound echoed around the subterranean room. Isaac gasped when Nathaniel pulled away and rummaged around in one of the cardboard boxes. “I got these for Belinda,” he said, pressing a worn plastic bag into Isaac’s hands. “Oh God, shoes!” Isaac pulled the bag open and sighed. They were beautiful: pointed toes, two inch spike heels, not new, since Isaac could see the wear on the soles when he turned them over. “Thank you,” he breathed, “thank you so much.” “Try them on,” Nathaniel said, and Isaac bit his lip and grinned, then kicked his school shoes off without unlacing them. He dragged his grey socks, baggy and probably not smelling good, off his feet. The concrete was cold and damp beneath his feet, and the fluorescent light flickered ominously, but he bent down and slid his feet into the shoes, holding his breath. The shoes were stunning, fitting well enough not to crush his toes, and he hiked his school pants up to see them against his waxed legs. “Oh fuck,” Nathaniel whispered, and he dropped to his hands and knees and pressed his mouth against Isaac’s ankle. His hands slid up Isaac’s calf, caressing, and he licked the top of Isaac’s foot,
long wet stroke of his tongue. Isaac closed his eyes, moaned, and leaned back against the tin wall behind him. “Is that good, little girl?” Nathaniel asked huskily. He knelt up and took Isaac’s shoe-clad foot into his hand, making Isaac clutch at the wall for support. When Isaac made himself open his eyes and look down, Nathaniel had shoved the sole of the shoe into his groin and leaned forward to press his face against front of Isaac’s school trousers. “Please,” Isaac whimpered. Nathaniel’s fingers unzipped him, and it didn’t matter that he was wearing glow-in-the-dark-Phantom boxers, because he could grind his shoe into Nathaniel’s crotch and make him moan. When Nathaniel freed Isaac’s cock from his boxers, Isaac felt like he would come at any moment, just from the anticipation. Then Nathaniel licked the head of his cock, slowly and wetly, and curled his hand around the shaft, and they both groaned. Someone was there, in the basement, humming to themselves and clattering, and Isaac bit at his cheek to keep himself quiet as Nathaniel leaned forward and slid his mouth down Isaac’s cock. All it took was that one suck, and Nathaniel’s other hand squeezing his balls, and Isaac came. He’d spent the night in a haze of sexual reverie, and the day at school hadn’t been much better, wound up by anticipation and longing, and he just let go. He was stunned, as much as if someone had actually hit him, so fucked that it took him a minute to realize that there was something decidedly kinky happening down below. Nathaniel’s cock was dark purple, and the head was bright shiny against Isaac’s foot, and he watched entranced while Nathaniel jerked at his cock roughly, breathing loud. The goods lift ground and whirred, ascending back to the real world, and if Isaac didn’t get fucked really really soon, he thought he might not be able to bear to keep on living. Come slid over his foot, hot and wet, down between his toes, and Nathaniel’s groans undid him, making him grab his own cock and wank himself fast and hard, splashing come over Nathaniel’s shirt and onto the dank concrete floor. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. Nathaniel wiped some of his come off his shirt and pushed his fingers into his mouth and sucked them, and the lift clattered and creaked, back down to the basement. *** It was still daylight when Isaac pushed the side gate open and wheeled his bike down the side of the house to the shed, and he managed to get all the way indoors and up to his room before the clanging in the kitchen stopped and Claire appeared in the doorway.
“Where were you?” she demanded, and Isaac lifted his head from where it was buried in his pillow. “I went for a ride to the shops,” he said. Her face softened, and she sat down on the edge of his bed, where Isaac was sprawled face down, and patted his back. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore,” she said. “You’re so distant.” “You don’t know me, at all.” Isaac buried his face again, muffling his voice. “Go away.” “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Claire asked, and Isaac pulled the pillow over his ears. He did not need this, not right then. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Isaac was so close to just blurting out that he was a cross-dressing poof, shagging a man old enough to be his father, but he had enough commonsense not to, and it was a smart move, because the next moment his mum was back into ice-bitch mode. “Don’t come running to me for help,” she said, standing up. “You’re going to have to cope by yourself.” His door closed solidly, not quite loud enough to count as a slam, since Claire would never do something as rude as slam a door, and Isaac rolled over and closed his eyes. He was tired, he had barely slept the night before, and the bike ride had been hard work, but he was so unbelievably glad he'd gone. Nathaniel had bought him shoes, from a charity shop Nathaniel had said. Belinda and Lisa had never dared go into a charity shop to buy stuff, perhaps it was something they should do... His mind filled with visions of discarded satin nightgowns and he closed his eyes. *** Belinda shifted her feet and tried not to look too much like she was waiting for someone. Across the car park, someone wolf-whistled her, and she turned her back on them slightly, just on principle. The bike was easier to hear this time, now Belinda knew what it sounded like. Nathaniel pulled up at the curb and turned the motor off. He pulled his helmet off and shook his hair out, and looked at Belinda approvingly. “Hey, gorgeous.” He swung his leg over the tank, stood up and wrapped his arms around Belinda. Belinda melted against Nathaniel as he kissed her, wound her arms around his neck and hung on tight.
“Hey. You okay?” “Bad week,” Belinda said. “Apart from the wonderful parts.” “How long have I got you for tonight?” Nathaniel asked, tucking a curl behind Belinda’s ear and touching her clip-on earring, making it swing. “All night,” Belinda said. “If you want me to stay? I told mum I was planning on further sexual adventures, and she either let me go, or I was going to do it at home.” Nathaniel burst out laughing. “Good girl. How did she take that?” Warmth filled Belinda’s belly at Nathaniel’s casual words, and at the rich sound of his amusement. “Icy silence,” Belinda said. “There’ll be repercussions, no doubt. So what are we doing tonight? Line-dancing again?” Nathaniel’s finger trailed around Belinda’s neck, and then down the line of buttons on her red blouse, pressing between her breasts. “I was hoping we could stay in my room,” Nathaniel murmured. “Get a takeaway curry and some lagers, and that you’d let me draw you properly.” “I’d love that.” The anticipation made her cock stir. “I’ve got some things with me this time.” Nathaniel’s hand curved around Belinda’s bra cup, through her blouse, regardless of the people walking past or curious eyes watching out of the block of flats. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 4 In Nathaniel's room, the bed was made, the clothes had been picked up from the floor, and there was a box on the bed, carefully tied up with pink ribbon. Nathaniel said, “That's for you.” Belinda sat down on the bed, eyes wide with delight. “Really?” Nathaniel sat beside her and stroked a hand down her back. “Really. Open it.” The ribbon pulled undone, and Belinda could tell it was an ordinary box, the kind that supermarkets throw out, carefully covered in plain white paper. The top lifted up, and whatever was inside was wrapped up in pink tissue paper. Tears stung Belinda's eyes, and she wiped at them carefully so as not to smudge her eyeliner. “Thank you,” she said. Susan had given her things before, but this was different; this was a gift from her lover. When Belinda undid the tissue paper carefully, there were stockings and a suspender belt, and in another package, a silky full slip. “Thank you,” she whispered. “They're beautiful.” The slip was worn soft, obviously not new, but still a lovely pale lemon color, trimmed with lace, and Belinda lifted it to her face reverently. The belt and stockings were new, the stockings still in their packet, flesh-colored and delicate when Belinda took them out, ready to be clipped onto the pink belt. “Not as beautiful as you,” Nathaniel said. “Would you like to put them on? With your shoes?” *** Belinda felt like a princess, or a supermodel, settling the stockings over her legs, so glad she'd waxed the weekend before and was still smooth. Nathaniel knelt and carefully clipped the stockings onto the belt, running his hands over Belinda's legs and up over her buttocks. She let the slip settle over her head, and it fell down against Nathaniel's face, a flutter of delicate material. She was too turned on to try and tuck her cock away, to get the full effect, so the front of the slip didn't sit right, but when Nathaniel pulled the fabric tight across her hips, so the ridge of her cock was obvious, she decided that wasn't a bad thing after all. Nathaniel opened the small chest of drawers, and in a drawer by themselves were her bra and knickers, carefully folded. Her new shoes rested beside them. The stockings were heaven against her legs, the whisper of friction when she moved was unbelievably good, and her feet slid into the shoes easily. She was taller than Nathaniel in heels, but when he stood up and stepped back to study her, there was so much approval on his face that she didn't feel uncomfortable about it.
"You look amazing." Nathaniel’s voice was husky and raw, and his cock strained at the front of his jeans in a way that made Belinda harder just looking at it. Belinda held out her hand, wishing that she could have worn nail polish and jewelry, just this once; Nathaniel took her hand and helped her walk unsteadily across to the bed. She sat down, and crossed her legs, admiring her calves and ankles, elegant in the shoes, and Nathaniel knelt beside her and ran his hand carefully down her thigh. "So beautiful," he whispered. The silk slid up her thighs, exposing the gap of skin between her stockings and underwear. Nathaniel's fingers pushed the slip higher, and Belinda lay back on the bed. She felt glamorous and gorgeous, and Nathaniel pressed fervent kisses to her thighs, then to her balls through her knickers, making her cock ache. She didn't know what was going to happen, what they were going to do, just that Nathaniel had freed her cock from the lace and Lycra over it, and had pulled her slip down again and was rubbing the silk across her skin, a light touch that would have tickled, if it didn't feel so good. It was slippery, slithering across her skin, when she reached down to stroke herself, and when she glanced down, there was moisture leaking from her cock, staining the silk. "Oh," she whispered. Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt off, and then stood and stripped the rest of his clothes off. When he stood beside the bed, looking down on Belinda, it was the first chance she'd had to really look at him. He was gorgeous, lean and broad-chested, and his cock... He was rock hard, foreskin pulled all the way back, and Belinda sat up and slid down the bed, then leaned forward and tentatively took the head of his cock into her mouth. She must have done something right, because Nathaniel moaned, and spread his legs a little. He tasted like he smelled, sexy and warm, and his hand stroked Belinda's back, rubbing the silk across her skin, making her feel voluptuous and desirable, reassuring her she was doing the right things. His balls were heavy in her hand, bigger than her own, and he made appreciative noises when she cupped them gently at the same time as she sucked the head of his cock. "Babe?" he whispered. "Stop… Feels so good..." Belinda lifted her head, and looked at Nathaniel. Her mouth felt wet and slick. "Did I do something wrong?" "No, sweetheart." Nathaniel guided Belinda's chin up high enough to be able to kiss. "I need you to stop, because there's something else I really want to do." Belinda's jolt of fear must have shown in her eyes, because Nathaniel stroked her cheek gently. "Don't be scared, remember I said I wouldn't hurt you? I want you to fuck me..."
*** "Touch me," Nathaniel whispered. Belinda squeezed lube, like clear toothpaste, onto two fingers and reached down. She used the other fingers to guide herself. She was floundering, if she was honest with herself, and she was going to have to trust Nathaniel to talk her through this. He was on his side, back to her, legs sprawled open, pillow clutched to him, sweat welling up on his forehead, his back, his ass. Belinda was drowning in a potent combination of trepidation and blind lust; in all her imagined life, it had never occurred to her that someone would want her to do this; she'd always thought it would be her. But it wasn't, and her fingers rubbed over Nathaniel's ass, fumbling around, acting on instinct alone, and then she found the right place, and eased one fingertip in. Nathaniel was tight, clenching around her finger, but she pushed it in steadily, hoping it was the right thing. There was no way her cock was going to fit in there. Nathaniel moved restlessly, shifting his legs, and his breathing quickened. "More," he gasped, and Belinda wriggled her hand, sliding a second finger in alongside the first. "More!" he said again, and Belinda began to get the idea that this was a damned good thing to be doing, that it must be feeling fucking fantastic for Nathaniel because she could see his arm moving jerkily as he stroked himself. "More!! Please, beautiful, gimme more." Three fingers made Nathaniel thrash around on the bed, especially when Belinda jammed them in hard. There was presumably some kind of technique to this, but she couldn't imagine how much noise Nathaniel would be making if she actually knew what she was doing. He was grunting, pushing back on her fingers, kicking out at the wall, and Belinda figured it was time she showed some initiative, so she slid her fingers out again, wiped her hand on the blanket, and fumbled around for the condoms that Nathaniel had put there, ready. Rolling one on took some concentration, her hands were shaking so much, and she felt like her cock was about to explode, she was so turned on. She hitched her slip up higher, out of the way, and squeezed lube onto her cock, spreading it over the latex. Her shoes were gone, kicked off, but the stockings were like velvet on her skin, and when she slid a leg over Nathaniel's, trying to get into position, he moaned and rubbed his leg against hers. She felt she should say something, but she had no idea what a person said at a moment like that, so instead she rocked her hips forward, hand wrapped tightly around her cock, her cock slipping over Nathaniel's skin in the lube. It wasn't until Nathaniel reached back between them and curled his hand over hers that she found his ass, and she had to push really hard to get the head of her cock inside. “Fucking hell,” she groaned, and she shoved the rest of her cock roughly into Nathaniel, completely blown away by the sensation. He was insanely tight around her, like a hot wet fist clamped down
on her cock, making every single nerve ending in it scream with ecstasy, and they both started yelling when she pulled back, then pushed in again. Nobody had ever said to her that fucking someone in the ass was the best thing you could possibly do with the human body, and it was a dreadful oversight, because it was unbelievably, unbearably good. Coming left her breathless, slumped against Nathaniel’s back, and he groaned disappointedly when she pulled out. “Shh,” she whispered against his neck. “I’m just changing the condom, not stopping.” New latex, new lube, and sliding in this time was easy. Belinda felt like she had far more control, both over herself and what she was doing to Nathaniel, enough control to even try changing angles, then rolling Nathaniel face down with his legs spread wide, her knees in between them. This time she could slow down, drag out each thrust and slide, learn to move against the rock of Nathaniel’s hips, as he lifted them to meet each stroke. It was so much better, so intense, and she tried to memorize each moment, every sound that Nathaniel made, every single sensation. One of his hands was clamped around the back of Belinda’s thigh, holding her close, her slip was bunched up between them, a delicious reminder, and Nathaniel was whispering her name now, over and over, urging her on. She managed to hold back, not come her brains out until after Nathaniel had tightened beneath her, fingers digging into her thigh, his voice filling the tiny room. Then, when he’d slumped down onto the mattress, Belinda slammed her cock into him, over and over, before collapsing down herself, sweat-soaked, exhausted, and exhilarated. “Pull out gently, babe,” Nathaniel whispered. Belinda lifted her weight off him and pulled back. “Oh fuck, I hurt you,” she said, looking down at the sagging condom. Nathaniel rolled over and pulled her down into his arms. “You didn’t sweetheart, at least not much.” He smoothed her slip down, his hand lingering on her hip and side. “Next time, perhaps you could go a bit slower, right at the beginning, that’s all.” Next time. Nathaniel had said there was going to be a next time. She smiled contentedly and curled up beside him. There was going to be another time. ***
When Nathaniel had pulled clothes on and gone for curries, and to the liquor store for lagers, Belinda knelt up on his bed and studied the sketches closely. There were scraps of words, too, scrawled haphazardly across the sheets of paper. “The stillness of past love,” she read aloud. “Of places not to be.” There was a sparse beauty to the words that matched the landscapes. Some of the sketches were of places familiar to her, at least in the gentle swell of the hills and the settled shape of the trees. Other sketches were of mountains and enormous lakes, sea shores and cliffs, not of the worn land she knew, and she wondered how far Nathaniel had traveled, and where he was heading this time. The key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Nathaniel kicked it shut behind himself and put the carry bags on the table. Nathaniel took the takeaway containers out of the bag. “It’s all right, you can look.” Curiosity made Belinda ask, “Are you, like, gay? Have you got a boyfriend?” Nathaniel shook his head and smiled at her. “I like complicated women, like I told you, though possibly not usually as complicated as you are. Here’s your vindaloo.” Belinda took the container Nathaniel held out for her. She must have looked perplexed because he sat on the bed with his own meal and shrugged. “Not gay. Bent I’ll accept.” Belinda nodded. She was familiar with the idea because Lisa identified as transsexual, and as a heterosexual woman, but would probably never manage to be accepted as straight. Belinda took a chunk of naan bread and dipped it into her curry and ate hungrily. “Sounds reasonable.” She wanted to ask him why he was doing portraits in a shopping centre instead of being a real artist, but she had a feeling that it might be a bad question. “What about you?” Nathaniel asked. “What are your plans for your life?” Belinda crossed her legs, deliberately sliding the stockinged surfaces against each other, just for the frisson it gave her. “Survive school without being outed and beaten up. Get out of home as soon as possible. Try and work out how to be me. Mum wants me to go to uni, but I know it’s not going to happen. I really don’t know what I’m going to do, perhaps go to Brighton or Manchester, find somewhere I feel safe.” The room was small enough that Nathaniel could reach out and stroke her foot. “I hope you find that, Belinda.” *** The drawings of her made Belinda’s heart lurch. Nathaniel sketched her stretched out on the bed, propped up on his pillows, slip pulled up to show her thighs and suspenders, and there was peace to
it, to staying still and not worrying about hiding and acting. That combined with the lager and the tingling satisfaction of the sex to make her feel relaxed and content. When he showed her the sketches, silk draping over her thighs, outline of her cock heavy against the folds, small round breasts swelling the slip out at the top, shadow of a cleavage, she hugged him tightly, almost in tears. “When did you know I was… different?” Belinda asked. “How could you tell?” His hands were large on her back, sliding down and cupping her ass. “I draw what I see,” Nathaniel said. “And I could see you. I tried to tell you, just so you’d know it wasn’t an issue, but I don’t think you realized that.” They lay in the darkness for a long time, talking quietly, and Nathaniel told her some of the places he’d been, the people he’d met. And in turn Belinda told him her secrets, things she’d never even told Lisa, about how she survived, and the dreams she had. His arms were warm and safe around her.
Chapter 5 It was the rustle of pages that woke Belinda, making her stretch and smile at the unaccustomed warmth beside her. “Hey,” Nathaniel said gently, and Belinda burrowed her face against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Want some coffee?” “Yeah,” she said, and she discovered the wonder of having someone to rub her early morning hardon against. “Later.” Nathaniel chuckled and she could feel him dropping his book onto the floor. “Like that, huh?” he whispered. He slid down the bed a little. It was very much like that. She was naked, apart from the rumpled slip, and she couldn’t decide which was better to rub her cock against: Nathaniel, or the silk. It took a little rearranging, but she managed to get the silk between their bodies, and it all just became perfect. Nathaniel was kissing her, touching her, rubbing their bodies together, too, and it was all so fucking perfect. “Please?” she whispered against his lips. “Please, what, love?” Nathaniel murmured. He was pressing her beneath him, his body heavy and solid and warm, making Belinda hang on to him tight. “Fuck me,” she said. “Right now, I can’t wait any longer.” “Are you sure?” Nathaniel whispered against her ear. “It’ll probably hurt…” “I’m sure.” If this all slipped away, if Nathaniel got on his bike and rode away, she’d regret forever not having let him fuck her, and she wanted it so desperately that breathing was difficult. “Okay.” Nathaniel lifted his weight off her. “Roll over, babe.” Belinda gasped when, after she’d rolled over on the narrow bed, Nathaniel slid her slip up over her buttocks and kissed the back of her thighs, and then her ass. When he spread her buttocks and licked slowly up the crease of her ass, Belinda cried out, a mixture of embarrassment and delight, then the feeling hit her, sliding into her, and come was soaking into the sheet beneath her, without her being aware that she’d come, only that something amazing was happening to her.
She was stretched, thin and fragile, and something slid into her slowly, something sharp and hard, and for one moment she panicked that Nathaniel was fucking her without a condom. Then the feeling twisted and curled, and she realized it was his finger inside her. Sharp, hard feelings shot through her, more than she could bear, then she cried out, partly in pain, partly in disbelief, and a volcano erupted inside her body, and God, it felt like Nathaniel had his whole fucking hand inside her, and it was so fucking good. She thrashed around on the bed, shouting and yelling. The sensations were suddenly gone, and Nathaniel was sprawled across her, rummaging around beside the bed, his cock a steel bar across one buttock, as big as a fucking tree… The lube was cold on her ass, slippery and cold, then Nathaniel was pressed over her, heavy and groaning. There was a feeling of pressure, and it just kept growing and growing, cold and implacable, and something enormous thrust into her ass. She flailed around, and sweat slicked her back. Nathaniel groaned against her ear, and it was absolutely fucking perfect. He was all the way in now, and it hurt and felt like she was being torn apart, but none of that mattered; not when there was heat ripping through her, and Nathaniel was so close to her, right there, inside her, holding her tightly, squashing her into the mattress, pulling back then sliding into her again. There was a moment, and she wasn’t sure when it was, when it stopped hurting and started feeling amazing and raw and honest, and she wanted to come so desperately, but her body wouldn’t let her, not with something so big inside her. Nathaniel gasped, “Oh God,” against her ear, and she could feel him coming, so close to her. He groaned and slid out slowly. It was then, when the intrusion was gone, that her body let go, let her come, writhing and twisting on the bed, sobbing and shouting and banging her fists against the mattress. Nathaniel held her tightly, helping her find her body again, her mind even. “Shh,” he whispered, and he rolled her over and wiped her face. She clung to him, so in love she couldn’t even begin to speak. *** The lift lights were on, so Belinda decided she was too happy and relaxed to walk the fourteen flights of stairs, and that she’d take a chance on the lift. Her body ached, deep inside, and it made her grin even wider. She’d never felt so good, and what made it better and better was that the slip had been rinsed out in Nathaniel’s sink and hung on a hanger to dry, in front of his window. When it was dry, he’d fold it up carefully and put it in her drawer.
The idea that she had a drawer of her own, in Nathaniel’s room, made her laugh out loud, scaring the kid that got into the lift with her, but she could afford to ignore a brat, she could ignore anything. The door to Lisa’s flat was closed, and Belinda rapped on it quietly, hoping that if Mrs. P was asleep, it wouldn’t disturb her. Belinda hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, and the door opened. Lisa looked like shit, eyeliner streaked down her face, skin red and blotchy from crying, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Belinda.” Then the door was wrenched open and Isaac’s mum pushed Lisa aside. “Get inside this moment, Isaac,” she snarled. “And wipe that stuff off your face.” Belinda crumpled, at least inside, and her eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready to deal with her mother, but she couldn’t see any other options, not when Claire wrenched the bag off her shoulder and rummaged through it. “That’s disgusting.” She slapped Isaac, hard enough to make him gasp. Lisa sobbed and bolted for her room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Isaac alone with his mother, and a worried-looking Mrs. P, who was standing in the hallway. “They’re my things,” Isaac said, and he grabbed the bag back off Claire. “Leave them alone.” He’d always known that one day he’d have to make a stand, and it looked like this was the day. “You look like a whore,” Claire said. “Some cheap slut who lets some brute on a motorbike have his way with her. Did he pay you?” It was anger that was making Isaac’s eyes spill tears down his cheeks now, he was beyond humiliation, beyond shame and embarrassment, all the way up to furious, and he wanted nothing more than to hit his mum, really hard, just once, but he didn’t. It was Mrs. P who moved, throwing the front door open. “Get out, you bitch. Leave Isaac alone, he’s just trying to live his life.” “And you’ve been encouraging him in this perversion, haven’t you?” Claire picked up her handbag. “You and your son.” “There is nothing wrong with my son, or yours,” Mrs. P said, and Isaac could have hugged her. She slammed the door shut behind Claire and wrapped her arms around Isaac. “You can stay here, Belinda. Just while she calms down.” Isaac sat down suddenly on the couch and curled his arms around himself. He felt physically ill, like he’d eaten something off, and Mrs. P smelled of stale alcohol, and staying on the couch would be bad, no matter how kind she was sober.
“I need some money.” He looked up at Mrs. P. “Just enough for a bus fare.” *** Nathaniel wasn’t in his room when Belinda got there, and Belinda realized too late that he would be at the shopping centre working, but she didn’t have enough money left to catch another bus, so she put her bag, the one she kept at Lisa’s place, down and squatted down herself. She would wait. People went past, and they all looked poor and lonely: an old woman with a birthmark on her face, a girl not much older than Belinda, wearing black velvet and a dog collar, a woman in a sari, and none of them so much as glanced at Belinda, just stepped over her legs and bag. She sat there for a long time, long enough that her stomach was grumbling, and she might have drifted off, too, because when Nathaniel squatted down beside her and said, “Hey, Belinda, love,” it made her jump. “Nathaniel,” she said, and Nathaniel kissed her gently. “What’s happened?” he said worriedly, and he stood up and unlocked his door. “Come in, babe, and tell me about it.” He put his canvas bag of artist’s supplies down on the table, and closed the door. Belinda sat on the bed, her pathetic bag of possessions beside her feet. “Mum was there, at Lisa’s place,” she said, then she couldn’t stop herself from crying. Nathaniel sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “That must have been difficult,” he said, and she clung to him. “You can stay with me, love,” he whispered, and he kissed her forehead. “While things get sorted out.” “Thank you,” Belinda said, sniffling a little, and Nathaniel hung on to her tightly. *** There were ramen noodles for dinner, and left over lager from the night before. Belinda had stopped crying and made her face up again, and the world was beginning to feel a little less scary. Nathaniel took her empty plate from her and stuck it on top of his in the small sink. “I have to go make a phone call,” he said. “There’s someone who can help you, and I don’t think she hates me, and she should be home by now. You going to be all right by yourself?” Belinda nodded. “Yeah, think so. How can your friend help? Can she get me a job?”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “But she might be able to get you somewhere to live.” Belinda looked around the room after Nathaniel had left. He was right, of course, she couldn’t really stay with him. The room was tiny, there wasn’t room for both of them, and she’d only just met Nathaniel, it wasn’t fair to just move in on him… She was deeply engrossed in her thoughts, running through a mental list of places she could go to for work, where questions wouldn’t be asked, when there was a knock on the door. It wasn’t Nathaniel, he’d taken his key with him, and Belinda leaned against the door and said, “Who is it?” “It’s Susan,” a woman’s voice said, “I’m looking for Isaac.” Belinda flung the door open and wrapped her arms around her sister, squeezing her tightly. “Susan!” she said. Susan disentangled herself from Belinda’s arms and stared at her closely, and Belinda realized that Susan had never seen her with makeup on before. “Wow, you look great.” Susan put the carry bag she was holding down. “I brought you some things, and this.” She opened her wallet and took out a sheaf of notes, and Belinda gasped. “Where did you get that? You haven’t got any money.” “It’s Mum’s,” Susan said. “Her hidden cache. I stole it; you need it far more than she does.” There was a hundred pounds there, at least, and Belinda took it gratefully. “How did you find me?” she asked, stuffing the money into her sneaker. “Lionel rang me, he sounded really upset. He said Mum had been a total bitch to you, and that he was pretty sure you were with your boyfriend. And he gave me the address.” Belinda nodded. “I gave Lionel the address here, just in case Nathaniel turned out to be an axewielding maniac.” She squeezed Susan’s hands. “Thank you so much.” “I found your passport,” Susan said. “You’ll probably need that if you don’t have your birth certificate, which I couldn’t find. And I brought you some ordinary clothes.” Susan looked at Belinda and frowned a little. “That shirt looks better on you than it did on me,” she said sulkily. “That’s not fair, Isaac.” “Belinda. My name’s Belinda.” Susan nodded slowly. “All right, I’ll try and remember. Belinda.” She shrugged. “I’m so sorry, but Mum was inevitably going to freak about this, there was no way around it.”
Belinda nodded. “I’d realized that, too. It would have been good to have managed to finish school without her finding out, but at least Nathaniel will help me, too.” Susan looked around the room, at the single bed, the slip hanging from the curtain rod, and sink full of dishes, and her smile was less sincere. “Take care,” she said. “I’ll always help you. You know that, don’t you?” “Yes,” Belinda said. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.” A key slid into the lock and the door opened, and Nathaniel stopped in his tracks. “Um, hi,” he said. “I’m Susan,” Susan said, standing up and holding out her hand. “Isa…Belinda’s sister.” “I’m Nathaniel.” Nathaniel shook her hand. “Good to meet you.” “I’m going to go now, Belinda,” Susan said. “Please call me, if you need anything.” Belinda stood up and hugged her sister. “I will,” she promised. When Susan had gone, Nathaniel hugged Belinda, just held her tight. “My friend was home. She said we can go around tomorrow evening, have dinner with her, and she’ll see what she can do for you.” *** The house Nathaniel parked his bike outside of was one of the large, previously luxurious, houses in Surbiton that had been subdivided into little flats, and Belinda straightened her top nervously. “You look fine,” Nathaniel said, smiling reassuringly at her. “And don’t worry about Dessie; she’s about as non-judgmental a person as you could imagine.” Belinda nodded and ruffled her hair a little, to make up for it being squished by the helmet. Dessie lived in the basement flat, down a flight of concrete steps and through a subterranean courtyard that was completely overgrown with creepers in pots. A large white cat appeared from the foliage and wrapped itself around Belinda’s ankles. She bent over and stroked the cat. Dessie proved to be a large black woman, full-busted and big-hipped, and she hugged Nathaniel tightly as soon as she’d opened the glass door to her kitchen. “Nathaniel, darlin’,” she said, and when Belinda stood up, the cat in her arms, Dessie hugged her, too, though not as ferociously. “You must be Belinda,” she said. “C’mon in, and bring Bastard with you.” The cat in Belinda’s arms meowed, presumably in response to its name, and it leapt out of Belinda’s arms as soon as the door closed behind them.
The flat was cluttered and cozy, and the kitchen smelled exceedingly good, of spices and comfort, and Bastard dove straight into the rubbish bin, where Dessie extracted him forcibly and tossed him towards the living room. “Go watch some TV, Nathaniel,” Dessie said. “And Belinda can watch me cook and tell me what’s been going on.” “Beer?” Nathaniel said hopefully, and Dessie threw a piece of carrot at him. “You know where the beer is,” she said. “Now shoo.” She slid the door to the living room closed behind Nathaniel, crossed her arms and looked at Belinda. “Nathaniel’s a darling,” she said. “But he is not without faults, not the least of which is his ability to freeload. Now, I figured you’d both be hungry, so I’ll chop veggies and you tell me everything that’s been going on.” “Can you really help me find somewhere to live?” Belinda asked, taking the carrot that Dessie held out to her. “Could be,” Dessie said. “I work for the Kingston Council, in the Housing section. We keep some emergency accommodation for people who we consider to be at risk of homelessness.” Belinda nodded. “My mum found out yesterday…” she started, and found that she couldn’t go on. “Oh, sweetie,” Dessie said. She put her knife down and wrapped her arms around Belinda. “You have a good cry, and then you can tell me about it.” Dessie was so comforting, solid and capable, patting Belinda’s back, and Belinda found that she was crying, and it was all too much. So much had happened, so fast, and she just wanted to go home, wanted to be in her own room, and not be dealing with any of this. Eventually she wiped her face on the paper towels that Dessie handed her, and Dessie said, “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Belinda nodded, and while Dessie went back to chopping, mascara smudges on her T-shirt, Belinda leaned against the sink and began to tell her everything. When she’d finished, Dessie smiled and said, “If you’re willing to go into a high rise block, like Cambridge Gardens, I can probably get you somewhere in a few days. It won’t be fancy, and it probably won’t be clean, but you’re homeless, just eighteen, queer, and you’ve been the victim of physical abuse. You could only be higher priority if you were disabled as well.” Belinda said, “Huh? No one has abused me.”
“Does your mum slap you often?” Dessie asked. “Has she ever actually beaten you with a strap or a belt? Has she ever bruised you?” “Oh, fuck,” Belinda whispered. “Thought so,” Dessie said. “No one can force you to go back into that situation, so the Council will have to step in. Now, why don’t you go have a cuddle with Nathaniel and watch some TV, and I’ll get dinner in the pan?” *** Nathaniel was sprawled across the couch, Bastard on his lap, booted feet on the coffee table, and he held a second lager out to Belinda. “Here you are, babe.” Belinda curled up on the couch beside him and buried her face against Nathaniel’s chest. Nathaniel’s free hand stroked Belinda’s neck, and Belinda said, “Why did you and Dessie break up?” “Ah, good question.” Belinda took the lager and drank some, and Nathaniel smiled at her. “Well?” Belinda asked, and Dessie stuck her head around the open doorway. “Because,” Dessie said. “No matter how charming he was, he was basically a shiftless bum who thought that my flat looked mighty comfortable.” “Really?” Belinda said, looking at Nathaniel with curiosity. “Unfortunately, that might just be true,” Nathaniel admitted. “And the food here is damned good.” “And he’s a freakin’ pervert,” Dessie called out from the kitchen. “I’d noticed,” Belinda called back, and she leaned forward and kissed Nathaniel on the mouth, making Bastard swat her with its claws.
Chapter 6 The room was in darkness, and there was a TV playing something Bollywood next door. Nathaniel’s mouth slid down Belinda’s neck, a slow wet trail, and his hands smoothed down her slip. Belinda breathed out all the way, and the next breath in was sharp, stinging her lungs. She wasn’t used to this yet, the way Nathaniel could make her feel, how much she could want this. He bit at her nipple, through the silk, and she gasped. “Please,” she whispered, as he loomed over her in the darkness. “Tell me,” he murmured against her ear. “Tell me what you want…” “Make me come,” Belinda said. “Right now.” She couldn’t wait another moment, needed this, the feel of saliva and teeth through silk, the grunt and twist, a moment of oblivion. Afterward, Nathaniel stroked her thigh through her stocking, and she kissed his hip and rested her head on his belly, content for the moment. *** The flat Dessie arranged for Isaac was more of a bedsit, one room with a kitchenette in the corner, a fold out bed, and a cupboard, with a tiny bathroom in another cupboard, but he didn’t have to share it with anyone, except presumably Nathaniel on occasion. Nathaniel was cooking, or more accurately reheating, and the room smelled of one of Dessie’s marvelous meals, lots of chili and coconut. Isaac spread the clean sheets, also from Dessie, across the double bed. He could hear the neighbor’s TV, and there were decidedly loud thumps coming from the flat above him, but he’d stayed at Lisa’s often enough to know all about the noise in a big block, and he actually couldn’t give a damn, not right then. He threw the comforter, from a charity where a friend of Dessie’s worked, across the bed, and then flung himself onto the bed laughing. “Hey,” Nathaniel said. “Wait for me.” There was another solid thud, and Nathaniel sprawled across the quilt beside Isaac. “What about dinner?” Isaac asked, rolling over so Nathaniel could kiss him more easily. “Turned it off,” Nathaniel said. “We can eat later.”
They kissed, mouths slipping and sliding, and Nathaniel’s hand slid under Isaac’s T-shirt, rubbing across his ribs, almost tickling. “Um,” Isaac said, when Nathaniel moved his mouth to Isaac’s neck. It was feeling good, what Nathaniel was doing, but apart from some eyeliner, he wasn’t dressed at all, and he wasn’t sure how Nathaniel felt about that… “What?” Nathaniel murmured. His fingertips found Isaac’s left nipple and rubbed across it gently. “Do you want me to, you know, put some things on?” Isaac asked, and God, what Nathaniel was doing felt good, making Isaac all shivery and tingly. “Do you want to?” Nathaniel pinched at Isaac’s nipple, sudden and sharp, making Isaac gasp. Fingers left his nipple and slid under the waist of his jeans, found his cock. Isaac groaned. “Is that good?” Nathaniel whispered, and Isaac yanked at the fly of his jeans, undoing them quickly and pushing them down a little, then reached for the front of Nathaniel’s. Solid flesh strained at the front of Nathaniel’s jeans, reassuring Isaac more than words could have. There was room on this bed, room to sprawl, and Isaac slid Nathaniel’s cock into his mouth and pressed two fingers against his ass, not hard enough to slide them in, just enough to make Nathaniel squirm and moan around Isaac’s cock. Isaac took a moment to scoop up some of his saliva that was trickling down Nathaniel’s cock, then he pushed his fingers in, just a little, mimicking what Nathaniel was doing to him. This time, this time he was going to pay attention, he was going to take some time, he was not going to go to fucking pieces the instant Nathaniel touched him, no matter how good it felt. It took work, given the combined assault of hand and mouth, but he managed, managed to push his fingers in a little deeper and do that twist thing, and he must have done something right because Nathaniel jerked against Isaac, rolling a little on the bed, kicking one foot out and shouting. Suddenly confident, Isaac pushed harder, sucked harder, followed Nathaniel across the bed as he rolled onto his back, made him yell and swear and thrash around, and the taste of come filled his mouth as Nathaniel’s fingers dug into his thigh hard. He felt smug, and it must have shown when he flopped down onto the mattress beside Nathaniel, stroking his own cock hard, because Nathaniel laughed and hugged him. “Fuck, that was good.” Nathaniel crawled down the bed and unwrapped Isaac’s fingers from his cock and licked the top. “Let me,” he said. ***
The nail polish was deep red, what Lisa called cocksucker red, and Belinda painted the next toe nail carefully, glancing up to nod approvingly at Lisa. “Open or closed?” Lisa asked, unbuttoning the next button on her top. “Closed,” Belinda said, tipping her head sideways critically, examining her toes. “Unless you’re going to paint some shadows in.” Lisa sat down, newly waxed legs stretched out on the carpet. “God, you’re so lucky to be out of home.” Belinda shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, even if I do have to work at McDonald’s, just to survive.” “And you’ve got Nathaniel,” Lisa said. Belinda glanced up at the walls of the flat and smiled. There were sketches of her, both as Belinda and Isaac, over most of the walls. “Yeah.” “Where is he?” Lisa asked. “Thought he mostly lived here?” “Just like Dessie predicted,” Belinda said. *** Isaac was almost asleep, curled up alone under the comforter, feeling vaguely disappointed that he was sleeping alone for the first time since he’d left home. It wasn’t that Nathaniel had said he was coming over, in fact Nathaniel had very deliberately said he might sleep at his room that night. It was just that he wished Nathaniel was there. The people in the flat on one side were having sex, and not very successfully by the sound of it, and the people on the other side were arguing, with considerably more vigor. They were making enough noise that Isaac almost missed the quiet tap at his door. He rolled off the bed, flicked the light on, and peered through the spy hole, hoping it wasn’t the strange guy from the floor below who had taken a liking to Belinda. Nathaniel waved at him, and Isaac took the safety chain off, opening the door. “You’re naked.” Nathaniel had a wide grin on his face. “I like that.” Isaac closed the door and locked it again. “Good. You know, I’m always naked under my clothes.” Nathaniel’s fingers curled over one hip bone, pulling Isaac closer to him. “I know,” he said huskily. “It’s something I think about a lot.” “Where have you been?” Isaac asked, clambering back under the quilt and sitting up in the bed.
Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed. Isaac could smell cologne or perfume on him, and he found he was jealous all of a sudden. “Seeing an ex,” Nathaniel said, grinning and rummaging through his jeans’ pockets until he found his wallet. “But,” he said, flourishing a scrap of paper, “she had a check for me. Seems she finally sold a timeshare she’d bought when we were together, and I get a chunk of the proceeds, just for having endured her company for two years.” “Is it much?” Isaac asked, grinning back at Nathaniel. “She seemed to think so, but she wouldn’t voluntarily give me the pickings of her nose. What do you say to us going over to Amsterdam for a few days? We could take the bike on the ferry, ride around a bit.” Isaac swallowed, and blinked, and Nathaniel’s hand was gentle on his scalp. “Hey,” Nathaniel said in a low voice. “There’s no need to cry, babe, not over something like this.” “Sorry,” Isaac said in a small voice, and Nathaniel hugged him tightly. “You don’t need to decide, not right now,” Nathaniel said. “Let me get undressed and brush my teeth, and you can curl up next to me and go back to sleep.” Isaac nodded, and Nathaniel kissed his forehead and stood up. *** The headset crackled and hissed, and Isaac straightened it a little and put on his faceless McDonald’s drone smile and said, “Hi! May I take your order?” The stink of the grill grease permeated everything - Isaac’s hair, his skin, the vile uniform - and the clatter from the kitchen was deafening. He got paid the price of two burgers an hour, almost enough to get by on, but it wasn’t enough, not right at that moment. “Lawhead, you faggot,” the kid in uniform said. “I’ll have a Big Mac, large fries, and a cheeseburger.” Isaac hit the buttons on the till, took the money, gave the kid from school his change, and tried to remember that he wasn’t allowed to hit anyone. “So,” the kid said. “Heard that you were expelled because you let some old guy fuck you.” “I left school.” Isaac grabbed the two burgers and the pack of fries from the rack behind him. “Have a nice day, fuck off and die.”
It was getting old, really old, and the school year couldn’t finish soon enough, even though Isaac didn’t go anymore. Maybe, when school was over, his class mates would get bored and stop coming into McDonald’s and insisting on being served by him. *** Nathaniel sat cross-legged on Isaac’s bed, and counted out the Euros. “That’s for our ferry tickets, and for the bike,” he said. “Mull, and food in Amsterdam. Two nights in a youth hostel. Petrol.” Isaac looked down at his long painted nails. Pink nail polish this time, delicate and deliberate, a fuck-you to the shift managers at McDonald’s who wouldn’t let him wear diamante hair clips to hold his stupid cap on. Nathaniel caught one of Isaac’s hands and lifted it to his mouth to kiss. Isaac felt his cheeks getting hot, and Nathaniel sucked the tip of one finger between his lips. “Want to be Belinda now for me?” he whispered. “I’ve always wanted to fuck on top of a pile of Euros.” Isaac colored further and nodded. “Give me a few minutes,” he said. “Put your new clothes on.” Nathaniel flopped back on the bed, arms behind his head, wicked smile on his face, and Isaac nodded. Belinda had more clothes now, from charity shops and discount warehouses, not quite a wardrobe full, but enough that she no longer had to wear the same thing over and over. There was a slinky black dress, slit up one side, a full skirt that went well with her peasant blouse and made her feel very Doris Day, but it was the blue velour that she liked best. It was understated and made her feel glamorous and mature. She smiled at Nathaniel and took it and her underwear into the tiny bathroom to get changed. She was getting good at this, pulling stockings on, slipping into satin knickers, pulling a dress over her head, and painting lipstick on quickly. When she opened the bathroom door and slipped her red heels on, Nathaniel was sitting up against the pillows, jeans open and cock in one hand, and he beckoned to her with the other one. “Come here.” He picked up one of the Euros and held it out to her. “Will this buy me a kiss?” *** The money stuck to Belinda’s skin, and Nathaniel tucked a twenty Euro note into Belinda’s knickers and freed her cock, making both of them moan. She knew what he was going to do, he was going to suck her, do things with his tongue and teeth, make her moan and shudder until she came. Then he was going to fuck her, as slowly as he could, and whisper to her, mouth against her ear, until neither of them could bear it any longer, then he’d make her come again, this time while he was buried deep inside her, and it would feel better than anything possibly could. Then he’d come too, maybe inside her, maybe he’d pull out and take the condom off and come in her mouth…
“Fuck,” she whispered, and Nathaniel’s fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady while she came. *** Someone whistled appreciatively and Isaac looked back over his shoulder and smiled at the bloke. He felt fucking fantastic, and the grin on Nathaniel’s face made it obvious he felt the same way. In Amsterdam, at night, Isaac found he was bold and brave. They were window-shopping, strolling through the crowded red light district, and he discovered that he loved the attention. He was made up, wearing Belinda’s face, jeans and her peasant blouse, undone at the front to show his flat smooth chest, and his kitten heels clicked on the paving stones. This was an alternative that had never occurred to Isaac, to be so blatantly and publicly open, and he loved it. “I don’t ever wanna go home,” he whispered against Nathaniel’s ear. “Can we stay here forever?” “Sure,” Nathaniel said, and his arm tightened around Isaac’s waist, then slid into the waist of his jeans at the back to toy briefly with the top of his g-string. *** They did leave Amsterdam, of course, however much Isaac wanted to stay, to ride the bike south, down the motorway, fast, really fast, and he hung onto Nathaniel tightly, singing to himself inside his full face helmet, and he didn’t feel nervous about the future, not with the way Nathaniel had made love to him the night before, in the tiny youth hostel room, on a bed that creaked, while Amsterdam partied outside their open window.
Epilogue He didn’t get a seat on the tube, but that was fine. He’d learned not to wear heels to and from work, so his feet weren’t aching in his sneakers, and his work shoes were safe in his tote bag. It was only a few minutes from the tube station to the shop, and Clarissa had beaten him in. The lights were on so he tapped on the closed glass door. They air-kissed, avoiding smudges, and Isaac went out the back and hung up his fake fur coat and changed his shoes, then touched up his face. “Want me to put the new stock out?” he asked Clarissa, who was counting the float into the till. “Thanks, doll,” she said, and Isaac dragged the carton of rubber wear out on to the shop floor and picked up the hangers, and began to put each outfit up on the rack. He still lived in the flat, it was close to the train station and cheap, and no one bothered him. Work was good, he could be Isaac, the way he wanted to be. Nathaniel was gone, had left the year before, gone to the US, and it had taken Isaac a while to get back on his feet, but he’d survived, and life was sweet again now. He saw Lisa often, especially now she’d left home and started to change, and Susan too, when she wasn’t traveling. Clarissa opened the door of the shop, and the little bell tinkled. “Latte, darling?” “Sounds good,” Isaac called back. Clarissa took a handful of coins from the jar beside the till and headed out for coffees. Isaac hung up another rubber skirt.
Crossing the Line Copyright © 2006 by Laney Cairo All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78685. Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press: Single Shot electronic edition / June 2006