Climbers Part 5: Leash

Kate padded barefoot into the lounge, adorable in his too-big jumper and jogging bottoms. Alex was sitting behind the coffee table in the centre of the curl around sofa. Set out on the table was a veritable feast compared to the scraps she salvaged from the food bank at the supermarket. An enormous pizza, slices of toast smothered with baked beans, a mug of tomato soup, and dessert: lemon yogurt brimming with chunks of banana. There was an empty soup-stained mug and plate with crumbs and bits of chutney on it which she took to be the remnants of his rations. She burst into giggles when she saw the state of his face.

He gave her his best shy look, ‘What is it?’

‘You look so funny!’ she said, falling about.

He tried to keep a straight face. He loved it when she smiled. She made him happy.

‘What makes you think I look funny?’

She ran an index finger over her upper lip, from dimple to dimple, stroking her fine hairs, ‘You’re wearing a soup moustache.’

‘A what?’

‘A silly soup moustache,’ she chuckled, ‘It makes you look so old! Like me to lick it off?’

Before the young man could object, she’d joined him on the sofa, and drawn his lips to her lips with her slim hand. He felt her lips part, her mouth open, he felt the tip of her wet tongue lick the smear of soup off his lips, felt his resistance crumble, as she aroused him: opening his mouth to hers, letting her tongue slide into his mouth – for their very first kiss.

For a moment, afterward, neither of them could speak, such was the frisson, the euphoria swelling in their hearts, the thrill of scintillation coursing through their bodies, their love.

It was Alex who broke their silence, her spell, admitting, ‘I’ve never kissed a girl before.’

She squeezed his hand, so as to reassure him, ‘I wanted to thank you for all this,’ she said, waving her hands over the food, ‘for being so kind to me. I couldn’t find the words. So, I thanked you in the only way I could. I left my love in you.’

No-one had ever spoken so lovingly to him. She’d left her love indelibly stamped in his heart: life without her would be unbearable. He felt her release his hand, sat, and watched her eat every single morsel. He told the girl his name was Alex Baird. She said her name was Kate just plain old simple Kate. He studied her face: the girl was clearly embarrassed.

‘I don’t have any other names,’ she said, standing, ‘I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed, Alex.’

That night, he dreamed of holding Kate in his arms as they stood on the sandy beach: she wearing just her roses dress, he sporting his gaudy Bahama beach shorts, peeling the dress off her, letting her pull off his shorts, kissing her as they lay naked in the sand. The games she’d play for him in his secret room: dancing round her pole on the podium wearing just her leash, her studded kitten collar and laced-up black leather girdle. The games he’d play with her, his stray damp kitten, as she danced and stripped for him in the heat of the night.

The dream changed to a sun-bleached veranda, the stifling, steamy heat, his body dripping wet, as he lay inert on the lounger watching Sarah and Kate writhe naked on the splintered wooden floor. He tossed and turned, his body pouring sweat, caught in a flooded torrent of unbridled, lustful, desire. His pyjamas were soaking wet. Frantically, he pushed back the sodden duvet with his clammy feet, and peeled them off.

He felt her touch, felt her climb into his bed, her warm nude body curling into the foetal position, cowling his buttocks. He heard her softly whisper, her breath, tickling his hairy neck.

‘I couldn’t sleep. Can I sleep with you?’